Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Once Upon a Space-Time Continuum (Rogers x reader)

The first time that Steve saw the words across the marquee of the old abandoned theater in Brooklyn, just a few doors down from his apartment, he was walking home from the grocery store, bags in hand and going about his day as usual. Nothing should have drawn his eyes to it; it was the middle of the day, the bulbs had long-since burned out, and the letters in the message showed signs of wear as clearly as the crumbling bricks of the building's façade.

But today, somehow it was all he could see as he took the few final steps home, his eyes drawn to the words that took the length of the display, as if they were written solely for him to see, though he knew that was an impossibility. As he read them, it dawned on him that he hadn't consciously noted this building before.

It's possible we just missed each other

With hesitant feet, he passed it by, entering his apartment with keys in hand and allowing the door to shut behind him as he stood lost in thought. Stories built in his mind of all of the scenarios that could have played out around that one sentence; variations of missed opportunities in love, work, and life that it could have been, and it made him sad to think of those that he himself had missed in his 70 years lost.

But why did this time catch his eye when every other time that he passed it hadn't? Was he really meant to see it this time? Was someone trying to get his attention?

He dropped his bags on the counter top and hurried back downstairs, taking the steps three at a time on his way to the sidewalk and back to the old building. He stood for a moment and considered his next move, if he even had one. Moving now from window to window, he brushed the dirt away from the glass to see inside, finding a stack of marquee letters just behind the door. With a look in each direction and seeing no one in view, he gave the rusty door handle a sharp pull, breaking the lock and allowing him entry. Laying the letters out across the dusty floor, he put together his own message and brought them outside.

Carefully removing the letters that were hung, he set them aside to place his reply against the glass. He didn't know if anyone would answer him, or why he was even bothering to do this, but something inside of him told him that it was the right thing to do. Once he had his message in place, he jumped down from the roof that held him above the marquee and reviewed his work.

I'm sorry that I missed you but I'm here now

He sat on the small ledge against the window that held an old movie poster, it's words so sun faded and worn that he couldn't even make out what it was anymore. Steve waited there for hours, so long that he lost count, all the while not knowing what he was even waiting for. When the sun had set and the night air chilled his skin, he finally returned home, feeling like a love sick idiot over someone that had never even existed.

The next morning, he took his usual route past the same theater, making his way to grab a coffee before catching the train into the city just as he did everyday. He told himself not to look, to keep his eyes ahead and steady, but he couldn't help it. His eyes darted immediately to the marquee, but the sun was creating a glare that stung his still-weary eyes that already burned from a listless sleep. He brought his hand up to shield them, and when his vision cleared, his mind only became more clouded by what they saw.

You weren't there

A chill ran through his body and his breathing labored, shocked and staring as if he had seen a ghost. With a trembling hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Tony, mumbling something about how he wouldn't be in today and closing the line before he could offer any explanation to the man on the other end.

Just as he had done the day before, he wrote out a message and hung it as quickly as he could, barely taking the time to be sure that he had all of the letters he needed. Panting and filled with nervous energy, he paced back and forth in front of the theater for hours, waiting for someone to answer him.