96.
Upstate New York
October 12th, 2011
Steve spends a lot of his time sitting in silence.
But even in silence, it's far from it in his head. He can still hear the bombs and guns and bullets and cries and laughter and clinking of whiskey glasses and tapping of Morse code and crinkle of maps. He can still feel the wind in his hair and smell the freshness of the forest and feel the coldness of the snow in his bones.
It feels like it was only yesterday, and to him, he guesses it was.
But it wasn't yesterday. It wasn't even last year. That was seventy years ago. Those memories are long gone, and the people who shared those memories with him are gone as well. Or if they're still around, it was so long ago that their memory fails them. And now Steve is lost in a world that has moved on without him. Those feelings he knew are gone. The people he knew are gone. The things they did and the reasons why they fought are gone. And while some of Steve's reasons for fighting are glad to be rid of, he wouldn't mind getting back his original reasons for fighting – his family.
Fury has sent Steve to live in a small retreat for a few weeks while he adjusts to this new, modern world. Fury had explained about the house to him, shown him exactly where he was, explained how to use everything inside it and then left a personal phone number for Steve in case he needed it. Then, the man had made his leave, and Steve had been all alone.
Steve spent the first night in his temporary accommodation outside the cabin, sitting by the edge of the small lake a few meters from the back door. He sat on the wet dirt and watched the ripple of the water, basked in the warmth of the setting sun, watched the sun move below the horizon and gazed into the reflections cast on the water, at the beautiful array of colours presented to him.
It was dark before he realised, lost in his thoughts, but he hadn't minded. He'd laid backward on the dirt and looked up at the open night sky, looked at every star above him, watched as the moon made its way higher and higher above him. He'd fallen asleep right there in the cool night air, just like he had in the forests of Europe. Except he'd been woken up the next morning by a Shield agent coming with clothing and necessities for him rather than by one of the Commandos as he'd been entirely expecting. But the agent, who introduces himself as Clint Barton and has a cheeky sort of smile, turns out to be quite a nice fellow, and Steve decides instantly he likes him. He doesn't make Steve feel stupid or coddle him. He just comes every second day with a few bags of groceries for him, answers any questions Steve has, and then leaves again.
Fury calls every third day or so, the small brick of a phone ringing when Steve least expects it, making him jump in surprise. It takes Steve a few moments to answer it, and sometimes he presses the wrong button, but eventually he gets used to using the small device. Just like a radio with more buttons. The man always sounds sympathetic and understanding as he asks how Steve is going and listens to Steve's stories about his mundane adventures in the log cabin. Steve knows he's probably boring Fury to tears, but he can't help but ramble. The things in the cabin are so different and exciting, and the things that they do, which Fury is probably well aware of, are intriguing. Steve can hardly believe some of these things have been invented. And Steve, well, he also misses being surrounded by people and being able to talk with others. Fury and Agent Barton are really the only contact he's had since he's woken up, and he latches onto their presences. He wishes he could talk to and meet more people. But even if he had a lot of people to speak with, he wouldn't know what to say, anyway.
The log cabin safehouse isn't terrible. Steve's never lived in anything but a tenement so the space he has is nice. The heater doesn't rattle and clunk when he turns it on, and it isn't even a radiator – it comes out through a vent in the flooring and it moves through to every room, and Steve can turn it off in certain rooms or make it warmer in others. It's fascinating, and Steve spends a good hour fiddling with it before he gives up.
The bed is comfortable, maybe even a little too soft, like he's going to sink through to the floor beneath him. But it's warm and safe so he can't complain.
The living room has a few couches, which are kind of uncomfortable but nothing worse than the couch that was in their apartment that Bucky dragged up from the dumpster. There's also a bookshelf, fully stocked, which keeps Steve entertained. There's another screen on the wall here, too, without a typewriter (which Steve has now learned is called a keypad, and the screen is a television for watching moving pictures). On another visit, Clint explains how the television works and how to use the remote, and then goes on to explain about television shows and how they are aired in weekly installments just like the radio shows Steve used to listen to were, except now they have pictures and acting to go with them. Steve's yet to turn it on.
There's also a "computer" in the corner on the desk. Steve turned it on and logged in with the credentials Shield provided. He was slow at typing, since he's only really ever used a typewriter a few times and doesn't have the practice. But the keys are much easier to type, and if he presses the wrong key, he doesn't have to start a new page or white out the letter, wait for it to dry and then type over it again; he can just backspace it. Incredible. He works out how to see the footage from the security cameras lining the property, but he doesn't venture any further as it had all been a little confusing and overwhelming, even with the instruction manual he's been provided.
The kitchen is fully equipped with a fridge, sink and microwave. They had fridges in the forties, but Steve's Ma could never afford one, and he'd never had one until he lived with Isabel and Bucky and they'd all pooled some of their savings to buy one. Even then, theirs had been old and banged-up and never got cold enough to work properly. It's amazing for Steve to be able to open the fridge to a stocked amount of fruit and butter and meat and cheese, foods they savoured in his time. He can pull things out and eat them whenever he wants and it isn't off, isn't warm. And he does. He eats and eats trying to keep up with his metabolism. Clint eventually starts bringing three bags of groceries instead of two.
Steve only cooks the things he knows, even though there's a cookbook on the counter for him, unread. It's one of the things he can do without help and without explanation, and it makes him feel empowered. It takes him a moment to work out the stove, which he doesn't have to light with a match and is only a ring on a ceramic slate that heats up, but once he gets it, no one can stop him. The food is familiar, though he has the ability to spice things up a bit by introducing ingredients they couldn't afford in the forties. He hangs on to that familiarity with both hands and refuses to let go.
The one part of the kitchen Steve has trouble with is the microwave, and for a few days it stumps him. He stares at it for a few minutes each time he attempts to use it, fiddles with the buttons, watches as the glass plate inside turns on its axis, the bowl on top of it twirling like some sort of music box to the whir of the microwave. Luckily, on Clint's second visit to see Steve, he stops Steve from microwaving a bowl covered in aluminum foil, and then goes on to explain the dangers of metal in a microwave.
Steve begins to wait for Clint's arrival so that he has someone to talk to other than sitting wallowing in his own thoughts. Steve doesn't know if Clint even likes him, but Steve likes Clint and his company. Clint seems like a happy person, always smiling and laughing and joking. It's a nice change from Steve's own thoughts.
And each time Clint comes to visit, he stays a little longer. It starts when he brings them something to eat for lunch, and then proceeds to him showing Steve some music, and then he rocks up with a handful of movies for them to watch together so he can begin Steve's "education". Steve is grateful for the help, but more so he's grateful for the distraction.
Clint stays a little longer each visit.
Steve decides he can get used to modern-day music.