when the day is long and the night is yours alone

[ex_enlisted288]

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: House #18, Village Environs
WHEN: Late November/Early December
OPEN TO: Steve + Bucky, Steve + You
WARNINGS: PTSD and associated triggers

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[ House #18; Closed to Bucky ]

[ The illness afflicting half the village brought more than a debilitating fever and hallucinations with it. It brought memories, visions of people that Steve hasn't thought about for a long time. That he hasn't let himself think about, frankly, because going down those particular lanes are not conducive to fighting a war.

He went into the ice as a soldier. He came out as a revered national icon, twisted into some legendary figure whose weight he has no idea how to carry. It doesn't stop him from carrying it, because that's what Steve does, but he's occasionally thought it would be a nice thing to set down. One of those five-minute breathers they allowed in basic before the drill sergeants kicked everyone's ass back into gear. He hasn't thought about Lehigh often either, but that's mostly because of the computerized Zola and all the revelations (and maybe some lies) that led him to bring down SHIELD.

All that swirls around in his head now. There's no enemy to fight here, outside the wildlife and whatever the Observers have planned. No enemy, nobody to train, and sometimes Steve thinks that it might be better for the village if he just wandered off one day and never came back. It'd leave a space open for someone more acclimated to this kind of life. Someone better suited to helping the other villagers, instead of a down-on-his-luck former supersoldier. And the problem is that most of this is subconscious. He's not wandering around looking for a good place to commit suicide. Or trying to shut himself off from other people. (At least not anymore.) He's just pushing forward, taking things one day at a time, and struggling not to suffocate under it all.

And then, after everyone has endured the three-day fever and recovered enough to escape the hospital and go home, Steve starts having nightmares. Like the nightmares he used to have every night after they thawed him out. He still has them frequently, but it's been more 'couple of times a week' steadily, and now it's every damn night. He watches his mother die, he watches Bucky fall, he watches helplessly as two people he cares about try to kill each other in Siberia. He watches himself lie down in the superplane, shield clutched against his chest, and wait to freeze to death. Every single night, it's the same jumble of images and emotions.

Then one night he wakes up screaming, trying to fight his way out of the covers, and tumbles out of bed. His body lands on the floor with a distinct thump. ]

Ow! dammit -- son of a fucking bitch. [ at least it's a quiet string of curses? ]


[ Village, Early December ]

[ Without the serum-aided healing, Steve is not bouncing back from the edge of death in a mere week or so. He's stuck on the longer way around to getting better. This means he's taking walks in the morning, instead of runs, and keeping to more well-populated areas. Like his house. Or the Inn. Or the schoolhouse. He might even drift by the forge a few times to see what's going on.

The point is that Steve has to take it slow in order to heal up and get back to his normal self. And moving slowly tends to make him grumpy. (No, really, ask Bucky. He'll tell you stories of Steve's shorter, younger sick days.) The point is also that he probably wouldn't mind a little distraction in any of the places he frequents. If it's anywhere near his home, though, be prepared to share his attention with Martin, the ragdoll cat who actually runs the household. ]