You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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Impossibly enough, New York became that much more busy, and crowded during the daytime. The whole metropolis nearly busting at it's seams, about to split open. Everyone trekking along their own paths, thousands of yellow taxi's moving along the intersections, car horns going off every other second. So much was going on at once.
The roads were constantly at a standstill, deadlocked with traffic as far as the eye could see. The blaring volume from vehicles, millions of people, and city life made you crave silence in a way that you never knew before. The intensity, and level of sound so buoyant, and shrill that it almost reminded me of the airstrikes that I went through during the war.
The skyscrapers felt like they were leaning in, about to devour you whole, and puffs of white smog ascended from the steam grates. Flocks of pigeons native to the island dove down throughout the buildings, and landed elegantly along the powerlines.
Even in the daytime the sky looked muddled, and blurry. The white clouds creasing together with the pale blue atmosphere above.
Last night we ended up not going to sleep at all, the being in a coma like state for seventy years, astonishingly enough, made me never tired.
The second it began to get bright out Steve, and I left the Avengers Tower, and we've been exploring ever since. With me the mixture of a tourist, and a traveler, admiring the new world yet judging it as well, and Steve my loyal guide. Filling me in on all of the events, incidents, major life changes, and phenomenons that occurred after 1945.
Combing through each day, year, and decade with the dexterous knowledge of someone who has been a historian for a long, long time. His brain snatching up all of the information that I had missed like a sponge, and dispensing each one. I listened intently, completely enthralled like I was a child, and he my teacher.
So much had happened that my head literally hurt sucking in all of the info, but I didn't mind. It was captivating just listening to Steve ramble on ceaselessly, and even amidst the colossal chaos that was New York, my main focus was on him.
He was smiling through his words, thoroughly enjoying a brief window of opportunity away from the own chaos that he had to deal with. I could see it, although his blue pools remained lively, his smile remained bright, and his friendly effervescence hadn't dwindled out that there were layers of stress intertwined. The strain of being a hero, a protector, the feeling of constantly looking over his shoulder prepared for what "maybe" each day, every minute... It must be a lot of pressure, and if I could be his window away for just a little while then I was glad.
Steve was one of the few people in this world who deserved peace, happiness, and love. Three things that get stolen from him continuously.
He told me about everything, trying to dwell on the happier, exciting topics like how Howard Stark did end up creating a flying car even though his creation at the Stark Expo in 1943 failed. He also told me about the Avengers, and tried, undoubtedly for my sake to make everything a glass half full thing rather than half empty.
