(no subject)
The last thing Steve remembers is crashing his plane into the Arctic, hearing Peggy's voice say his name one more time before being enveloped in cold and static. He remembers the rush of freezing water through the broken glass of the aircraft, the shock of ice seeping through the leather of his uniform, the stiffness in his limbs and joints, the rush of adrenaline keeping him awake for so long, and the terrifying epiphany that he may not die.
And then, he remembers nothing.
---
"You gonna be okay, Cap?" Nick Fury asks him in the middle of what has to be Times Square.
"Yeah, I just-- I had a date," Steve replies, because he can't think of any other way to describe how he'd already made peace with the fact that his time was done. Now, he's in the future, living with the fact that he let Peggy down. He let everyone down.
---
"Take that away, and what are you?" Steve spits at Tony, Howard's son. Howard, who he let down and who was nothing except there for him.
Tony does not even blink as he responds, face closed-off from emotions. Soon, Steve will be able to tell how stung Tony is when that expression pops up, but for now he lets his lips curl into a snarl and turns sharply, stalking out of the room.
He does not like the future.
---
Here is the secret that nobody knows:
Cap does not like the future.
Tony can't really blame him, because more than half the time he doesn't like the future himself. But, he also has the weight of thousands of innocent souls on his chest and the sense to know that his company, his father's company is what made the future into what it is. So, maybe Tony actually just hates himself. He tries not to think about it too much.
But Tony can see that Cap hates the future from the glazed over look in his eyes that he gets when he sees a computer or a television and from the way the smallest things set his temper off. And, he can see the brief shock of recognition before the dull sadness in Cap's eyes whenever they meet on chance in HQ.
So, maybe Cap doesn't hate the future. Maybe he just hates Tony as much as Tony hates himself.
He figures he deserves it.
---
XVII (I do not love you...)
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.