Avengers: Shifting part O1

Steve Rogers breathed heavily; his vision had begun to swim as he struggled to concentrate on the task ahead of him. He gripped the gear tightly, staggering as he tried to control the aircraft that had tried to destroy the world. Muscles ached with fatigue and tiredness, having taken down an entire army. The Captain shut his eyes briefly, trying desperately to remain strong, being the poster boy of his country now.

"I have to put it in the water."

"No," the man's girlfriend answered in that usually calm, accented voice of hers, yet he could sense the urgency and fear lacing the edges of her voice, "we have time to work it out!"

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere!" Captain America shouted out, feeling a panic rise in his throat, yet a sense of relief as he glanced down at the radar. The blinking screen alerted him to the feeling of loneliness, which made his plan seem fool-proof. Yet, it wasn't in his bodily favor, though he didn't have much time to chicken out. "If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die!"

Steve stared out at the windshield, the ship tearing apart clouds and the air as it glided gracefully through the sky. A knot appeared in his throat, the young man struggling to stay brave and strong. Trying to stay the soldier that he was, the one that only wanted to help other people and not himself. Hands trembled quietly on the gear, which he quickly tried to silence by gripping tighter on the metal, feeling it misshapen to form around his fingers in response to the strong muscles squeezing.

"Peggy," Steve's voice attempted to harden, in an attempt to calm her and himself, and the British woman that he felt feelings for, "this…is my choice." He heard no response from her, and suspected that she finally gave up on trying to talk him out of the suicide mission. Looking down at the controls briefly, he examined the full dashboard of the machine he was operating, then paused, reaching deep into his pocket and pulling out a black and white photograph, placing it on a small glass-covered meter, taking the last look at her face. Aware that he would never see her again, he took her in for a few more seconds before staring straight ahead once more.

Swallowing the last of the fear present in his chest, he set his mouth in a straight line, pushing the gear down and forward forcefully, the ship quickly changing its direction towards the ground and began to nosedive. The wings cut the air, and he heard the whistling of it in his ears, and he struggled to keep the powerful and knowing force about him. It was hard. He was afraid.

Steve quickly said, "Peggy I just wanted to tell you that—" he did not finish, realizing that the transmission was turned off, now completely void of contact. The man's eyes slid closed, arms shaking as he felt the ship smash into the water.






Steve gasped, eyes snapping open as he panted, waking up in a startling way. Sprawled out on the floor and in a puddle of his own sweat, he felt himself quivering like a leaf. Muscles twitching as they tried to move and coordinate correctly, he breathed in deeply, forcing himself into a sitting position, breathing deeply as he attempted to calm himself.

How many times had he kept having nightmares that startled him awake? Too many to count on his digits, he was aware of that. It was crippling, his fear of the past. Shaking violently as a cold chill from the window snuck under his loose shirt and tickled his sweaty skin, he wrapped his powerful arms around himself.

Steve looked around the dark room of his bedroom in his simple house. Many would consider the style old-fashioned, but to him, it was perfect and familiar. The shadows ran long across the wood floor, reaching out towards him like monsters of the unknown. He shook, holding onto himself tighter. The man felt like he was a wreck when the sun fell, and yet he wasn't sure why.

The Captain suddenly felt uncomfortable in his own home, and he swallowed, quickly locating the phone in his peripheral vision. He gripped it tightly in his hands, a dull throbbing in the backs of his eyes and his forehead. Shutting his eyes briefly, he breathed in and out and focused on his respirations. Once he felt a bit better, he dialed a number on the phone.

Holding the phone close to his face, he paused as he heard it ring. Aware that the time was unruly to be calling people, he continued to wait, hoping that luck was with him. It was when Tony answered him with a tired grunt.

"Tony." Steve answered with a sigh, breathing out deeply as he crossed his legs, pulling the quilt from the bed over his shoulders to try and defend himself from the chill. "Hey, do you think I could stay at your house for a bit? I'm sorry to just invite myself over like this...really? Thank you Tony..."






"Come on now Steve." Tony gave a loud sigh, walking into the gym. He was assaulted with the smell of sweat and old leather, making his nose wrinkle in response. Shaking his head, he leaned in the doorway of the gym, watching the super soldier punch the punching bag as if it were his worst enemy. "You've been in this gym all night. Come on, let's go out and get some fresh air."

Steve panted heavily, narrowed eyes focused on the sand-filled punching bag, brutally assailing the object. The only evidence of the Captain hearing Tony was a quick shake of the head. He seemed intently concentrating on something unknown to the other male in the room. Punch after punch the bag received, the man organizing and releasing all of them.

"Hey, come on now." Tony grunted, stepping forward and approaching the well-muscled soldier. "There's a bar in Manhattan I want to go to. And you're coming with me."

"I don't drink." Steve said, panting heavily as he continued to try and get out his frustration. Tony pursed his lips, not taking no for an answer. He stepped closer to Steve.

"Well too bad. I'll kick you out if you don't--" he paused, jumping back as Steve punched it with amazing power, knocking it off the hook and causing it to break as it hit the floor and slid across the tile, stopping at the wall. "Is this what you want to do all night? Destroy punching bags?"

Steve finally stopped, rubbing his hands and breathing heavily, looking towards Tony. He gave in, nodding quietly, his face flushed red from exertion. Vessels that carried blood throughout his body and the tendons were visible along his body, pulsating as they struggled to keep up with his actions. Sweat beaded down his body in little rivulets, painting his body a pink as it worked extremely hard to return his systems to a state of balance. There was an expression in his eyes that Tony couldn't catch, his eyes fogged over by tears, yet he just assumed there was dust in them from the sand from the bag.

Tony placed a hand on one of Steve's broad shoulders. "Come on Glory boy. Go take a shower and clean up. I don't want you destroying anymore of my property."
Steve stared at Tony for a few heartbeats, his expression not wavering as he gave a nod. "Alright..." he choked out, strained slightly as he stepped past Tony and to the door to head to the showers.

Tony turned to watch him, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. "Hey glory boy." Steve glanced over his shoulder at him. "You alright? Looks like something's eating you." he rolled his eyes when he saw the look of confusion cross his face. "It's a joke, Cap."

Steve shook his head, feeling another stab to his already ruined mental state. "I'm...fine..." he shook his head once more, running a hand through wheat locks. Moving towards the showers once more, he didn't bother to look at Tony again, though he could feel his stare at the back of his head.

Steve stepped into the shower room, tossing his sweat stained shirt in the corner where the laundry basket was. His pants followed, though his belt and gloves stayed carefully in a pile by the fresh clothes someone must have left him. Not really caring who did that, he walked into the stall, turning the water on cold. His skin jumped slightly, and he felt himself trembling. Not from the low temperature of the water raining down on him, but the stress and anxiety plaguing his mind.

Resting his head against the stall, Steve closed his eyes as he turned the heat up suddenly to scalding hot, trying to wake himself up. He succeeded in making his back bright red and painful, and the backs of his shoulders and rear-end. Breathing heavily, he aimed on calming his body, temples feeling as if they were slowly squeezing the side of his head. Groaning quietly, the captain moved to rest his head on the side of the stall, trying to calm himself.

Images of swirling ice and freezing water hit him, and he instinctively trembled more, feeling a cold feeling. Yet, fire clawed underneath skin, scratching and ripping apart anything it touched. Fire and ice fought against him, inside him, having a duel against equal strengths, no winner to appear. The shower suddenly didn't seem like a relaxing place anymore.

Quickly, Steve turned off the water and stepped out of the stall quickly. He dried his body with a soft fluffy towel, making sure to get most off the moisture out of his hair, knowing he was going out with Tony. The man wasn't excited, but decided to humor him. Maybe he was actually being nice now. Hastily putting on jeans and a checked shirt, the war vet finished cleaning himself up before stepping out of the shower. Once completely ready, he went to meet Tony by the front door.