Steve's Diary

May 11, 2012

Dear Diary,

Nick Fury has been trying his hardest recently to get me to 'fit in' with modern society, though, I don't see any point in that.

I'm technically old now, so shouldn't I be retired, anyway?

—————

It's 4:27am and I can't sleep. Hell, I can't remember a single day since I was risen from the dead that I slept more than four hours.

I'm at the gym, though, as that's always where you'll find me at this hour. I was told I was asleep for 66 years, I think it's safe to say that I need to catch up on all that lost time by staying up as long as I can.

Well, everyone who's watching after me says no, Captain Rogers, don't do that, it's not good for you. The Hell do they know? Modern medicine can't be that far off from what I grew up knowing, right?

Though, this is my solace now. This is the only place I can be all alone in the middle of the night and not be bothered by anything other than my unavoidable thoughts. I've tried literally everything and, well, it's evident at this point that I can't drink the thoughts away.

It is said that the brain consistently remembers only two things about any given event: the emotional peak, and the end. What, then, if they are one and the same? Surely the memory that lingers will be stronger for it, as I well know... but I'm supposed to have two separate memories to cling to and, instead, I only got one. One, because my brain decided (without me, mind you) that this one given instance - an instance that lasted merely five minutes, which is ever-so-obviously a fraction of all the time we ever spent together - got to be the most important. How could it possibly be fair that I don't get to reminisce or harp on any of it but the bitter end?

This unbearable frustration, in fact, is exactly why I do what I do.

I'll stand in front of a punching bag, just as I'm doing now... fully clothed, because there ain't no damn way you'll catch me in here in simply my underwear (because that's what I sleep in)... and I'll wait. I won't punch the bag until a thought I can't stand meanders it's way into my skull.

First, it'll be something simple... but that only lasts so long until it's unbearable.

The world has changed so much-

Jab, cross.

I've been gone for nearly 70 years-

Jab, cross.

I can't even see Peggy as she was-

Jab, cross, side.

I still can't even believe I'm home-

Uppercut, uppercut... uppercut.

And, Bucky-

Uppercut.

Bucky, he's-

Uppercut, uppercut.

He's gone-

Uppercut.

I let him die-

Uppercut.

It's all my fault and-

Uppercut, uppercut.

I'll never see him again-

Uppercut.

How could I be so-

Uppercut.

Useless?

Uppercut.

Stupid?

Uppercut.

Bucky!

Punch, straight away. The chain snaps, sending the bag flying across the room and tossing sand all over the floor.

"Trouble sleeping?" Nick Fury asks me as he walks in. I look over.

I start unwrapping my hands and look away from him. "I slept for 70 years, sir. I think I've had my fill."

"Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world," he replies, walking towards me.

"When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."

Or who I lost.

"We've made some mistakes along the way. Some very recently."

"Are you here with a mission, sir?" I asked, wanting to get to the point.

"I am."

"Trying to get me back in the world?"

"Trying to save it," he replies, handing me a folder.

Save the world, huh? From what, ending? That's not even something I pay attention to anymore, as it's already ended for me many times and began yet again in the morning.

I take the folder anyway. The paper has TESSERACT written across the top in big letters. SECURITY LEVEL 7, it says on the other side. "Hydra's secret weapon," I say.

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you," he continues as I look through the rest of the papers. "He thought what we think. The tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

I put everything back just as I'd found it and handed the folder over to Director Fury. "Who took it from you?"

"He's called Loki. He's... not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in," he told me. "The world has gotten even stranger than you already know."

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me."

"Ten bucks says you're wrong," he said. Hell, I only want one Buck. "There's a debriefing packet waiting for you at your apartment. Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?"

I was already walking away with my bag and a massive punching bag over my shoulder. "You should have left it in the ocean."

—————

Ok, so, eventually, I said yes to his offer and I don't know exactly what that means or how long any of this is gonna take.

Dear God, what the Hell did I just get myself into?

~ S. Rogers