![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Out Of Nowhere
Dec. 29th, 2018 11:42 pmInspired by http://digdipper09.tumblr.com/post/181521693367/updogonline-historycultureeducation-my-dad-on that I made sad because I'm still me.
He wakes up and there's white.
It's not soft, or textured in ways that would scream an interior magazine's poster. It's not pearl either so the possibility of it being his own bedroom gets ruled out.
It's stark. Sterile. Antibacterial white that means nothing good.
He blinks for exactly 45 seconds of pause before getting up. The bed is firm, unforgiving, and starched. His haunches don't sink in and he doesn't feel his palms pressing into the mattress with ease.
Hospital then, he notes and then comes the wall behind the lone chair in the corner, pushed to the edge in a stilted hurry by whoever was occupying it earlier. The wall is bare and ordinarily he wouldn't find many things odd about it but the chair -
The chair catches his eye and Steve never goes wrong in things that should catch his attention. It's old, he can tell by the edges of the armrest and the chipped edges of one of the legs. It's unpolished since it was first created, the first coat of paint still fading.
It's not right. It shouldn't belong, he realises and Steve can feel his entire body coming alive.
The entire room shouldn't exist. It's not right for his memory.
Where was he? Hospital, he checked.
When was he? 2014, his memory said.
The chair didn't belong in 2014 in a hospital with too stark white ceilings and terrible thread-count bedspreads.
Who was he? Steve Rogers, Captain America, Co-leader of the Avengers -
The Avengers. They weren't there. They were always there if he was in a hospital. One of them, any of them. Sam. Tony.
Tony. Tony would never have allowed Steve to be in a hospital without some ridiculous gift or balloon to greet him when he opened his eyes. Tony doesn't let him brood.
Something is wrong. He's alone and in a hospital and Steve can't find anything out of place for an old world but he doesn't belong. He doesn't belong in this world even though he could be from here.
His eyes move to the bedside and there's a small table. Vase with a single flower. Water. Paper.
Newspaper.
He picks it up, unfolds it and stares.
Moon landing. Men walk on the moon, it says in an out-of-fashion headline font. Moon landing is the headline of the day.
He's lost. His brain checks the corners, the ads, the scent. It's not new. It's old and used. He's old.
What has he missed now? Where was he this time? Why? Why why why -
He's aware of his nails digging into his palms, the paper crumpled in one fist but he can't unclench. He's gone. He's out of time again and he can never find where he should be, can never be where he's supposed to be, cannot see home.
The air is thin even though his lungs are made stronger and he wants to curl back into the hard bed when there's a sound. And then two. Then an angry cacophony that is - it's -
"-for one second that I'm not suing the life of you!" Tony thunders to someone trailing after him, eyes flashing cold even as he barges in, "In fact, tell Nick he has an hour before he deals out consequences or I promise the Avengers will do worse! Now get out!"
The person behind him never even comes in and Tony doesn't bother looking back, locks eyes with Steve.
And then he moves. Walks. Firmly, quietly, and without moving his gaze.
"You see me?"
Steve nods, his heart still beating too fast but he can nod. He can find control, find controlcontrolcontrol -
"You know me?"
Steve nods and this time Tony moves closer, within reach, a hand away. Steve can reach out and catch. Be caught.
"You got any words, Steve?"
Steve inhales through his teeth and he can do this. He can't but he has to. He will.
"Was this a prank?" the words are spaced well and clear. His insides are still a mess but his voice is working.
"SHIELD rookies took it as a challenge," Tony says looking ready to fire his arsenal at SHIELD but calm, efficient for Steve, "Your first day in the 21st century became a bet."
"We won?" Steve asks because he can remember now. They had been in a mission and he had taken a hard header and had been running on fumes. He must have been brought to rest at SHIELD'S medical wing.
"The world's still spinning," Tony says and this is good. Tony being calm is good. Steve wants to rip into SHIELD and he will if the Avengers don't first but Tony - well, he could destroy them in ways they still don't understand.
Steve does though. He is learning to. And he knows that Tony will do it for anyone, but especially him.
He's learning a lot of things.
"Let's go home?" Steve asks because he needs it now, he needs to remind himself that he has a home. A home that wasn't what he planned but what he found, made, liked. He has a home of people and the panic in his brain registers that.
"Waiting on you, Cap," Tony says casually because he knows that this won't leave Steve's mind for a while. This will take some time. But as long as he has them, his team, his family - Steve has somewhere to be. Somewhere to go back to. People.
He gets up and walks with the new century.
He wakes up and there's white.
It's not soft, or textured in ways that would scream an interior magazine's poster. It's not pearl either so the possibility of it being his own bedroom gets ruled out.
It's stark. Sterile. Antibacterial white that means nothing good.
He blinks for exactly 45 seconds of pause before getting up. The bed is firm, unforgiving, and starched. His haunches don't sink in and he doesn't feel his palms pressing into the mattress with ease.
Hospital then, he notes and then comes the wall behind the lone chair in the corner, pushed to the edge in a stilted hurry by whoever was occupying it earlier. The wall is bare and ordinarily he wouldn't find many things odd about it but the chair -
The chair catches his eye and Steve never goes wrong in things that should catch his attention. It's old, he can tell by the edges of the armrest and the chipped edges of one of the legs. It's unpolished since it was first created, the first coat of paint still fading.
It's not right. It shouldn't belong, he realises and Steve can feel his entire body coming alive.
The entire room shouldn't exist. It's not right for his memory.
Where was he? Hospital, he checked.
When was he? 2014, his memory said.
The chair didn't belong in 2014 in a hospital with too stark white ceilings and terrible thread-count bedspreads.
Who was he? Steve Rogers, Captain America, Co-leader of the Avengers -
The Avengers. They weren't there. They were always there if he was in a hospital. One of them, any of them. Sam. Tony.
Tony. Tony would never have allowed Steve to be in a hospital without some ridiculous gift or balloon to greet him when he opened his eyes. Tony doesn't let him brood.
Something is wrong. He's alone and in a hospital and Steve can't find anything out of place for an old world but he doesn't belong. He doesn't belong in this world even though he could be from here.
His eyes move to the bedside and there's a small table. Vase with a single flower. Water. Paper.
Newspaper.
He picks it up, unfolds it and stares.
Moon landing. Men walk on the moon, it says in an out-of-fashion headline font. Moon landing is the headline of the day.
He's lost. His brain checks the corners, the ads, the scent. It's not new. It's old and used. He's old.
What has he missed now? Where was he this time? Why? Why why why -
He's aware of his nails digging into his palms, the paper crumpled in one fist but he can't unclench. He's gone. He's out of time again and he can never find where he should be, can never be where he's supposed to be, cannot see home.
The air is thin even though his lungs are made stronger and he wants to curl back into the hard bed when there's a sound. And then two. Then an angry cacophony that is - it's -
"-for one second that I'm not suing the life of you!" Tony thunders to someone trailing after him, eyes flashing cold even as he barges in, "In fact, tell Nick he has an hour before he deals out consequences or I promise the Avengers will do worse! Now get out!"
The person behind him never even comes in and Tony doesn't bother looking back, locks eyes with Steve.
And then he moves. Walks. Firmly, quietly, and without moving his gaze.
"You see me?"
Steve nods, his heart still beating too fast but he can nod. He can find control, find controlcontrolcontrol -
"You know me?"
Steve nods and this time Tony moves closer, within reach, a hand away. Steve can reach out and catch. Be caught.
"You got any words, Steve?"
Steve inhales through his teeth and he can do this. He can't but he has to. He will.
"Was this a prank?" the words are spaced well and clear. His insides are still a mess but his voice is working.
"SHIELD rookies took it as a challenge," Tony says looking ready to fire his arsenal at SHIELD but calm, efficient for Steve, "Your first day in the 21st century became a bet."
"We won?" Steve asks because he can remember now. They had been in a mission and he had taken a hard header and had been running on fumes. He must have been brought to rest at SHIELD'S medical wing.
"The world's still spinning," Tony says and this is good. Tony being calm is good. Steve wants to rip into SHIELD and he will if the Avengers don't first but Tony - well, he could destroy them in ways they still don't understand.
Steve does though. He is learning to. And he knows that Tony will do it for anyone, but especially him.
He's learning a lot of things.
"Let's go home?" Steve asks because he needs it now, he needs to remind himself that he has a home. A home that wasn't what he planned but what he found, made, liked. He has a home of people and the panic in his brain registers that.
"Waiting on you, Cap," Tony says casually because he knows that this won't leave Steve's mind for a while. This will take some time. But as long as he has them, his team, his family - Steve has somewhere to be. Somewhere to go back to. People.
He gets up and walks with the new century.
