Prologue
When people tell the story of Captain Steven Rogers, they tell one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice. He was the Hero of the ages, defeating the evil that had swallowed the land in smoke and death, insidiously spreading its hatred that seeped into the very air we breathe. He stood up for what was right when so many were lost and afraid. He was a symbol to the nation, a True Hero of the world, his story was written in the stars like Hercules and Odysseus. Heroes in this day and age only die if people stop telling their story, and his was published far and wide so no one would forget the name — Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America.
Of course, if you were to get his true thoughts about the whole thing, he’d say it was all bullshit.
When he was Chosen, he thought it was blessing. Finally, he could fight the good fight. He could slay the beast, protect the people, right what was so terribly wrong in the world. His Fairytale was setting up to be one of the Greats, was what they said, but not in so many words. You would jinx the end if you praised the Hero too early. Folks were more superstitious in those days, you see. As they still should be. He’d completed the first two of three trials — as was the proper number for trials, although some unlucky fellows got more and there is a reason we didn’t hear about them, as they never end well — and everything was set to onto the third. He readied his shield and spoke words to his fellow men.
He told them, with this final battle, we will strike down a supreme evil.
He told them, follow my lead, for we will right the wrong in this world.
He told them, we must stand and fight, for the light must always banish the darkness.
No one, however, told him that his story had been doomed from the start. He was not acting out a Drama — he was spiraling downwards to a Tragedy.
His best friend and right hand man, Bucky Barnes, fell. Bucky knew in the beginning, was probably waiting in the afterlife to tell Steve ‘I told you so’. He’d seen through the Heroics, the fancy clothes, the fame. He knew, and Steve didn’t take him seriously, not when it mattered most.
Bucky told him, you were always great and they want to take advantage of that.
Bucky told him, this is a bloody war and war destroys good men.
Bucky told him, don’t burn yourself out just to keep the rest of the world warm.
He didn’t, however, listen to Bucky’s good advice and oh, he paid for it, dear Gods in the Heavens, did he pay. Pain beyond the burning of a thousands suns exploded in his chest as he watched Bucky fall to his death, nothing he could do except watch as the light in Steve’s world was snuffed out.
Agent Peggy Carter, dear, sweet, amazing Peggy, found him later trying to drink himself away in a bombed out pub. Bucky’s death had caused a supernova that had burst and had completely expanded in his chest, making it impossible to breathe. It was still crackling at the edges, searching out and trying to cling onto that very last scrap of hope that maybe, maybe Bucky would be okay, that any minute now he’d come sauntering through the gaping hole where the door used to be.
Peggy told him, you had made your choice to stand against the injustice of this world.
Peggy told him, he had made his choice to stand with you.
Peggy told him, now you must make your choice on how to go on.
He didn’t, however, tell her that the supernova that had burst collapsed down at her words, shrunk itself to the pit of his stomach, leaving him completely hollowed out but so, so incredibly heavy. He gazed at her and imagined, just for a moment, coming home to her. Marrying her. Having a family. Trying to continue on in this cold dark world that had stolen Bucky from them.
He loved her. Gods, did he love her, he thought as he watched the icy water come closer and closer to the windshield of the Valkyrie.
They said, a symbol to the nation.
They said, a True Hero to the world.
They said, a man worthy to walk amongst the Gods.
He wanted to scream. He was never any of that, not without his best guy and girl at his side. Because everyone loved to celebrate what they won. Nobody liked to talk about what they lost.
And when Captain America woke up to a new world, one that had turned on without him and Bucky, Captain America was called on to save them. Captain America could never ignore the cry of so many people in pain, so many frightened, powerless people, so of course he went to help.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Captain America always came and fought the good fight.
Steve Rogers always left after, weighed down by a thousand memories, unsure what the good fight was anymore.
There were many differences between what Steve presented to the world and the Captain of long sung Heroes, but there was one glaring similarity: neither had a home they could return to.
Maybe, Steve needed to learn that home wasn’t something that came to you. It was something you made.
Oh well. He had the rest of this story to figure that out.