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shieldborneGod's righteous man, Ultron had mocked to his face a few years back. Pretending you could live without a war. Steve had to acknowledge he wasn't wrong. The vision Wanda pulled out of his head, it wasn't wrong either. He is half strung-out, bone-weary, combat fatigue personified. Half of him wants to go home.
The other half? Will never be able to stop fighting, because that means having to face what's left.
Visiting the Nexus has only driven that point home, in some ways. No matter how much people encourage him to expand his horizons, take time to relax and recover, to be Steve Rogers, he's restless and adrift there, friendly with everyone but not, in the end, all that close to any. But there is one idea that's caught at him relentlessly since his arrival there, and that's the inescapable visual of kids fighting wars.
Most of them probably don't see it that way. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Men, just doing what they can, what they innocently assume any good person would do. Every time he thinks about that, it hurts. And he has plenty to do in his own world, collecting the proliferating alien weaponry across the planet, breaking up and hunting down remnants of HYDRA, and ducking the law. But here there's an opportunity for something more, something gentler, something that's not fighting and might, in the long term, keep people from ending up in the psychological catch-22 he's gotten himself into.
There's no Nexus real estate office, but there are people who have a clear idea of what land and buildings can be claimed and what can be done with them. Steve has somehow, through funds scraped together, favors called in, and contacts made, become the proud owner of what was once some kind of diner or restaurant. The building is a decent size, two floors, with a lot of the appliances and furnishings still inside it and still working. Including a jukebox, which is what he's looking at right now, outside the front of the building. He's got most of it taken apart and spread neatly on blankets on the grass, and he's methodically cleaning it bit by bit.
The long term plan is a safe house he can set up for the costumed-hero types here that have nowhere else to go if something goes wrong. The kids, specifically. He won't be able to be here all the time, himself, but he can put it together and give what he can. Fill it up with food and medical supplies, maybe put in some bunks, some security--
Well, the plans are still evolving, but it's something.
The other half? Will never be able to stop fighting, because that means having to face what's left.
Visiting the Nexus has only driven that point home, in some ways. No matter how much people encourage him to expand his horizons, take time to relax and recover, to be Steve Rogers, he's restless and adrift there, friendly with everyone but not, in the end, all that close to any. But there is one idea that's caught at him relentlessly since his arrival there, and that's the inescapable visual of kids fighting wars.
Most of them probably don't see it that way. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Men, just doing what they can, what they innocently assume any good person would do. Every time he thinks about that, it hurts. And he has plenty to do in his own world, collecting the proliferating alien weaponry across the planet, breaking up and hunting down remnants of HYDRA, and ducking the law. But here there's an opportunity for something more, something gentler, something that's not fighting and might, in the long term, keep people from ending up in the psychological catch-22 he's gotten himself into.
There's no Nexus real estate office, but there are people who have a clear idea of what land and buildings can be claimed and what can be done with them. Steve has somehow, through funds scraped together, favors called in, and contacts made, become the proud owner of what was once some kind of diner or restaurant. The building is a decent size, two floors, with a lot of the appliances and furnishings still inside it and still working. Including a jukebox, which is what he's looking at right now, outside the front of the building. He's got most of it taken apart and spread neatly on blankets on the grass, and he's methodically cleaning it bit by bit.
The long term plan is a safe house he can set up for the costumed-hero types here that have nowhere else to go if something goes wrong. The kids, specifically. He won't be able to be here all the time, himself, but he can put it together and give what he can. Fill it up with food and medical supplies, maybe put in some bunks, some security--
Well, the plans are still evolving, but it's something.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 06:08 pm (UTC)This is different.
This is the same earnest honesty that the papers love and Steve swears he isn't when he's feeling particularly bitter toward himself. Natasha nods.
"That's why you have me around. Pays to have a different set of skills on hand." She knows he values her. Whether he should or not Natasha's never sure she'll see eye to eye with him. If the tables were turned and it was up to her to save Steve, he'd trust her to do it.
Would she? Even if she has already? It's difficult to know where she'll fall one day to the next.
"Good." Seems that much has gotten through to him at least. And doubly good that no Lokis are welcome here. That's the best news she's heard all day.