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Some nights, Steve still sees him.
They're always on the helicarrier, like they were so many years ago.
Sometimes, they yell at each other. Steve screams that he's a failure, and when he wakes up, he doesn't know whether he was talking to Tony or himself.
Other times, Tony's working in the engine room and Steve comes to sit with him. They chat easily, laughing, like nothing ever happened between them. Morgan often shows up in these dreams, standing in the corner silently. He tries to invite her over to join their conversation, but she shakes her head solemnly.
Steve finds it hard to sleep nowadays. He finds himself lying awake for hours, wishing he had done something differently. In the darkest nights, he wishes that he had died instead of Tony. Tony had a child, a wife - a life. Steve has nothing. No one would miss him. After the whole Accords ordeal, he doubts he would even have a public funeral.
Some nights, Bucky comes to sleep with him. Shaking, they curl up together in silence and close their eyes. Bucky's arms are the only place Steve can find peace nowadays. Touch-starved, Steve often thinks that if a stranger came on to him, he would accept, just to feel the warmth of another human being again. Just to feel close to someone.
When he's in bed with Bucky, he feels like he's lying with a ghost. It reminds him of the ice.
Once upon a time, he thought he was finally recovering from the ice. From the chill of the Arctic in his bones. But although that used to be nothing but a recurring nightmare, now he lives in it every day.
Everyone around him is frozen. Bruce spends all his time locked up in his lab, watching koi fish swim around in an installed pool. Once upon a time, Bruce was recovering too. He can't harness the Hulk anymore - all anger has left him. All passion. All he has left are his fish, flitting around in dazzling shades of red, blue, and green.
He hasn't seen Thor in a year. Not since he left with the Guardians. Whenever Steve looks up at the night sky, he thinks of Thor and how he was brave enough to reject his duties and follow his heart. Sometimes, Steve thinks of using the time machine to go back to Peggy. Deep down, he knows he could never do it. He couldn't leave this timeline, forgo his responsibilities. Leave behind Bucky. But God, he wants it so desperately.
He hasn't seen Clint in a long time, either. Last time he went over, they had a lovely family barbecue and the kids showed him their archery skills with shining eyes. The moment he'd arrived, Laura had drawn him into a tight hug and didn't let go of him for a long time. Thank you for Clint, she'd said. I'm not the one you should be thanking.
One day, he went over to see Pepper. He brought a big pie and a casserole along with him. This was technically breaking his no relationships rule, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for her, left alone in a role meant for two.
"Steve," she exclaimed, her voice animated although her eyes were tired with a weariness beyond her age. "I didn't expect you."
"I hope I'm not intruding," Steve said, holding up the food. "I brought food."
She brightened. "Oh, thank you! Please come in."
Thanking her, he walked inside. The house was almost exactly the same as it was when he first saw it, except for a few minor differences. The shoe cupboard was empty of any men's shoes; the sofa didn't have a pair of welding goggles slung carelessly over it; the room didn't smell like cologne and engine oil anymore. A lump formed in his throat. When he cleared his throat, it didn't go away.
"I'll get this in the fridge," Pepper called as she walked to the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable in the living room. Are you staying for dinner?"
"No," he said quickly. "Just dropping in. How is Morgan?"
“Ask her yourself.”
A small head poked out from behind the wall, with intelligent brown eyes and dark hair. A bright blue bracelet shone on her wrist – the exact color of Tony's arc reactor. When she crept slowly towards him, he could see that she was wearing little pink socks.
"Hello, Morgan," Steve said gently. "I'm Steve."
Quietly, she sat on the sofa beside him. She stared at him intently, but didn't say anything. Not distrustful, but not trusting, either; a state most people seemed to be in these days.
Just when he was beginning to deliberate whether she was mute or not (had he ever heard her speak?), she said, "Daddy told me about you."
Steve's heart stopped. At least it felt so. "What - what did he say?"
She looked down at her hands, folded neatly on her lap. "He talks when he thinks I'm sleeping. He said you're a good person. You're stupid but funny and nice."
That wasn't what he was expecting. "I'm... stupid?"
"You scare him. He puts you in time-out so you're safe but you run away."
There was a lot to unpack there. Tony had always said that his primary goal was to ‘protect our noble captain’, but Steve had always assumed that he was mocking him. You think you're funny, Stark? He had asked bitingly during one of their earliest fights. Tony had blinked innocently and said, actually, I do, Cap.
The need to be protected was one of Steve's vulnerable spots; after a childhood in which he constantly needed to be protected, he couldn't stand it when people acted like he was weak now. Tony must have known that, so naturally Steve assumed he was mocking him. But looking back on it, was that really it? All the times Tony had pulled him aside in private and told him quietly, I think you should sit this one out, Cap… Steve suddenly felt sick.
“And you have pretty eyes,” Morgan added before Steve could muster a reply.
He gave her a watery smile. "You think I have pretty eyes?"
She frowns and says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "No, he says that. You have pretty blue eyes like the sky."
His mouth went dry and the smile slid off his face. He could hear his heart beat in his ears. This was too much. He wanted to tell her to stop talking, but she went on.
She lowered her voice like she was telling him a secret. "I think he misses you."
"Oh." Steve took several breaths. He had to get out of here. He stood up abruptly. "It was lovely meeting you, Morgan."
Just then, Pepper came into the living room. "Steve?"
"I'm sorry," he said, "I have to leave."
"Are you sure? You just got here-"
"Yes," he said.
It was a short walk to the car and he got in the driver's seat without turning on the engine. When he was sure that no one was watching, he buried his face in his hands and started sobbing.
-
A few weeks ago, he ran into Scott Lang. He was in the supermarket, buying several packs of chocolate.
"It's my daughter's birthday," he said. His voice was soft and sympathetic. "Listen, Steve, why don't we go for a drink?"
Automatically, Steve moved to refuse, but Scott insisted until he finally agreed.
"Know any good bars?"
Scott exhaled sharply. "You think I'm letting you drink any alcohol? That's going to get destructive real fast, Steve. If it hasn't already. We're going for coffee."
The nearest coffee shop was a quiet, reserved yet comfortable place. There were vases of flowers on all the tables, each one different. Their vase was full of gardenias.
"What do you want?" Scott asked, inspecting the menu. "They have a mean strawberry milkshake-"
"Just a black coffee," Steve replied.
Scott shrugged easily. "You're missing out." He signaled for the waitress to come over and ordered a coffee, along with a milkshake for himself. The drinks arrived soon after and Steve settled to drink - in silence, as always.
"What are you doing nowadays?"
"Nothing," Steve said, hoping that Scott wouldn't pursue the subject any further.
Scott leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest, fixing Steve with an intense stare. "Talk to me, Steve. I get the feeling you haven't talked to anyone in a long time."
"What makes you think that?"
Scott picked up his milkshake and peered into it before taking another sip. He put it back down on the counter and leaned back again. "I can list so many things. Wanna test me?"
"Go ahead."
"Firstly, I talked to Sam, and he said that you refuse to attend any VA meetings. He also said that you rarely pick up his calls, which is also what Clint said. Then there's the fact that you haven't been seen in public for a long time, and you don't have any family you could be talking to." His face softened. "There's no shame in loneliness. We're all feeling it."
A part of Steve wanted to spill out all his feelings to the man in front of him, confess all his nightmares and his dark thoughts and the fact that he hasn't slept properly since... Thanos. Scott would probably listen; he could even offer some advice. Steve could slowly take down the walls he had built around himself.
Instead, he said, "I'd really prefer if we didn't speak, Mr. Lang."
Since that day, Steve has felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, but he can't bring himself to call Scott and apologize. It seems that he can't bring himself to do anything these days.
He can't risk it. He just can't risk letting another person in to see them leave. Bucky, Peggy, Tony... one way or another, they all left in the end. Forget romance - he can't even fathom the possibility of friendship. He just can't deal with another heartbreak, especially coming from a friend.
A week ago, he met up with Bucky.
"I miss you, Steve," Bucky had said. "It's been 3 months."
Steve cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was small and unconvincing. "I've been really busy."
Suddenly furious, Bucky slammed his hands on the table. "Doing what, Steve? Ignoring me? Ignoring all of us? Moping around feeling sorry for yourself? Natasha would want you to move on. So would Tony. They died for a better world, and you're stuck here wasting it."
So many things he wanted to say. I'm sorry, Buck. Forgive me. You're my brother, I love you.
Instead, he turned around and left.
Bucky is right. He's wasting this life. He doesn't deserve to live. Natasha deserved to. Tony did. What did Steve ever do, besides hurt the ones around him?
"So much," Wanda Maximoff had said, five days ago. When Steve didn't know where else to go, he went to her. She’s living with the X-Men now. To be with her father, she told him when he first showed up. Magneto was apparently living in the mansion now, helping them re-build their lives. Life is too short for grudges, Charles Xavier had told Steve once. He had clearly let go of his. "You've accomplished so much. Helped so many people."
"That wasn't me," he said. "That was Captain America. What has Steve Rogers ever done?"
"Don't you get it?" Her accent came through strongly. "None of that was Captain America. Captain America died back in the 1940s. This was all Steve Rogers."
And because Steve is an idiot, he walked away from another friend.
-
Three days later, Magneto was still on his mind. Steve had never met him, but he heard countless stories about the man. But there was only one thing stuck on his mind.
He found himself knocking on the door to Xavier's mansion again. A boy he didn't recognize opened it.
"Captain America?" he asked uncertainly.
"Steve," Steve corrected him. "Is Magneto here?"
The boy paused for a second, looking him over. "Why?"
"I have to speak to him."
Another pause. Then: "He's in the garden."
Barely five minutes later, Steve was in the garden, wondering what possessed him to come here. Magneto was working in the garden, hacking at the dirt with a metal tool. His face was covered in dirt and sweat, and the tank top he was wearing stuck to his glistening skin.
"Magneto?" Steve said tentatively, nervous. He wasn't sure how to address him. Magneto? Sir?
Magneto threw down the tool and turned to face him. His hair stuck to his face and his steely eyes were mildly curious. "It's Erik. I'm not that man anymore." He paused, then added, "You should understand, Captain."
Steve narrowed his eyes slightly. "Alright, Erik. Then you should call me Steve. I'm not that man anymore, either."
"There are worse things to be than Captain America."
"There are also better things."
"That we can agree on," Erik agreed. He wiped his hair away from his forehead. "What do you want?"
"I have a question," Steve said carefully, only now realizing how risky this was. If the question came across as provoking… there were very few people Steve was genuinely afraid of, but someone who could draw all the iron out of his blood was definitely near the top of the list.
"Depends on what it is," Erik said. He seemed interested.
Every bone in Steve's body was screaming at him to walk away. But he couldn't. Not now. He couldn't go on like this - he needed an answer. Erik was the only person who could help him.
"It's been a year since Thanos," Steve began. His voice was sturdy, but a little thin. "And I-" his voice cracked. That wouldn't do. He started again: "I just - I keep thinking-" he cut himself off again. He took a deep breath. He needed to get this out. "I keep thinking - no, I know it's my fault. Tony, I mean.”
It was no use. He couldn't say it.
Erik, however, understood. "Are you trying to tell me that you think what happened is your fault?"
Steve nodded. He felt very small. "I wanted to know - how do you forgive yourself?"
"And you came to me."
"Yes," Steve said. Quickly, he added, "I didn't mean to offend you-"
"No," Erik interrupted. The curious look in his eyes was replaced with something darker. "You're right. I've done many bad things, Steve. Beyond what you could comprehend. And I'm sorry to tell you that I can't answer your question, because I've never forgiven myself. But I can tell you that as much as you came here because you think we are alike, you are completely wrong. We are nothing alike. You have nothing to forgive yourself for. Tony made his choice, Steve. There was nothing you could do."
"But-"
"No buts," he added sternly. "I spent a long time thinking of excuses. Thinking of why I was always right. That didn't change the fact that there was no one to be blamed for my actions but me. And there's no one to be blamed for Tony's death but him."
Steve's eyes were watery now. He felt like an astounding weight had been lifted off him. "I just wish I could have changed it."
"I know," Erik said quietly. "There's a lot of things I wish I could have changed too. But you can't change the past. All you can do is focus on a better future."
"Is that what you did?" Steve asked.
Erik looked over at the mansion where little kids were playing, and where Charles Xavier was sitting in a wheelchair, watching them peacefully. "Yes. And it's time you did that too."
-
Last night, Steve saw Tony again. For the first time, they weren't on the helicarrier. Instead, they were in a music hall, lively music playing as couples ddancd around them. The lights were turned down low, perfect for a slow dance. This was his Peggy dream, but it's Tony he was holding in his arms.
"Not expecting this, were you, Cap?" Tony asked, a small smile playing at his lips.
It wasn't like he had never imagined dancing with Tony, holding him close, all their troubles and problems forgotten, but he had never imagined it like this. This was reserved for Peggy, but she was a long-lost dream and he had left her behind in the past, where she belonged. Her place was never with Steve.
"No," Steve said. "But it's a pleasant surprise."
That seemed to surprise him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Dreams were the only place Steve could ever trust himself to be fully honest. "I always wanted to do this."
"Then you should have asked."
"I wasn't sure you would accept."
Tony gave a bittersweet laugh. "For you, I always would have accepted."
His use of past-tense stung. "I'm sorry."
When Tony spoke, his voice sounded vaguely like Erik's. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Steve sighed and shook his head as the song changed into something slower, more anguished. It wasn't dancing music, but they went on anyway. "Tony- the Accords, Sokovia, Serbia... I have everything to apologize for. We both know that."
Tony closed his eyes and pressed his face into Steve's shoulder, allowing Steve to draw him closer. "Now's not the time to discuss any of that."
"Then when?"
"Someday," Tony said, "it will all leave you. You'll find peace too. But only if you let it go, Steve."
Steve's voice was thick and choked-up. "I don't know how to do that."
"It'll come to you," Tony said gently, looking up at him with wide, understanding eyes. "Just let it all go. Let me go."
It was all clear to him now. The room seemed to get brighter, warmer. Welcoming. Everybody melted away until they were the only ones left, dancing in the light. Steve didn't need to say anything; they understood each other perfectly.
"Let me go, Steve," Tony said one last time as the room collapsed in on itself and everything went black.
He understood now.
-
Today, Steve goes to see Scott. When he knocks on the door, it's opened almost immediately. Scott Lang stands there, wearing a scruffy t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Behind him, Steve can see the living room, where Cassie is sprawled across the sofa, next to her mom, Parker, and Hank Pym.
"Steve," Scott says, surprised. His expression sours. "Or should I say Mr. Rogers."
"I'm sorry," Steve says, a familiar twinge of guilt and shame coursing through him. "I messed up. I know that. I'm not asking you to forgive me-"
"Oh, shut up." Scott laughs and pulls Steve into a tight hug. "Drama queen." Steve hugs him back, pushing any worries that he might be ambushed by ants to the back of his mind.
"Is someone stealing my boyfriend?" A teasing voice comes from behind them. "Hey, Steve."
"Hi, Hope," Steve stammers, blushing. Why do I always get into these situations? "I swear I wasn't-"
"I know, I know." Hope rolls her eyes and nudges Steve's shoulder playfully. "Don't take everything so seriously, Rogers. Besides, if anyone's going to steal my boyfriend, it's going to be Wilson."
"That's true," Scott agrees, taking her hand. He turns to Steve and smiles warmly. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Steve smiles for the first time in a year, and says, "Yes."