In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

In the Stars

Unsurprisingly, Steve was right. I made one speech and suddenly, spending entire days cooped up in my house felt wrong. I had lived my entire life with a sense of duty to help people; I rekindled it by Steve's push. I spent enough time letting the mourning of my powers, my family, my dream life consume me. It was time to start being productive with my grief and answering the call to action I always held in my soul.

Steve worked with Natasha, Rhodey, and I to assign me a job. With an agreement from the United Nations, it was my duty to spend time traveling to capitals for three months every year to spend a week with the World Leaders and help to bring organization and peace to the people. I helped where I was asked to, I compromised where I could.

I never could have visited all one hundred and ninety-five countries that made up the United Nations. I set foot in every continent, I visited the capitals of every country I could. I sent countless postcards home to Steve, as I had never been gone for that long. Being stripped of my portals meant relying on the Quinjet, which was faster than the average plane, but was a drastic change compared to the speed of my portals. I didn't see Steve for three months while I was off helping other countries deal with the political and social aspects of the Snap.

For once, the wars stopped. Nobody would have ever imagined such an event like the Snap would bring such widespread disgust to the idea of more loss, but it did. Instead, countries focused domestically, uniting what people remained, trying to protect them, and strengthen bases.

I helped out wherever I found it necessary. If I ran into people who asked for help, I did what I could. I went to Steve's therapy group sometimes to hear peoples stories and be reminded that the world is vast. Our world held millions of people, just like us, but who are normal and hurting and trying to move on. My power situation may have been abnormal but my grief was not.

I saw the world while I worked. I saw the landmarks I had always wanted to visit, I spent time in the Eiffel Tower and visiting the home that my mother once lived in,  I was rowed down the Seine River by a kind gentleman, I saw Big Ben, I flew over the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China and the Pyramids of Giza.

I visited the Acropolis of Athens in the middle of the night, I snuck up and stood in the center, looking up at the night sky, the constellations. I felt the moonlight shine directly on me, felt the breeze of the wind across my skin.

I was never one to believe in a God. I barely believed in fate or the concept of destiny. I didn't think philosophically about anything in my life because I didn't feel there was a point-- no matter what, life ends. I never thought deep into it because there would never be an answer. The few moments I believed in fate, it in Agamotto. He told me it was fate, before the universe, before Infinity Stones, before him, even, that I would become his successor. I had believed him and it didn't come true.

I stood in the center of this citadel, admiring the Greeks faith in Gods, admiring their love for beings whom they would devote their lives to that barely cared of them. I would never share it. The person who was my equivalent of a God had failed me. I didn't believe in much of anything making sense. Nothing in my life was going to have a deeper meaning than that of just being the tragedy of life. My life had become defined by my tragedies, as I had.

Steve shared my concept. His life was defined by his tragedies, but our difference was that he did something with all of it. He continued to fight. He adapted. He never loved my time, in comparison to his home of the 40s, but he loved the people he was surrounded by. He loved the concepts of modern technology. He loved me. I saw him as my inspiration, my driving force behind why I had to keep fighting my own personal fight.

Even if I found no reason, no explanation for anything that had happened in my life, the tragedy I went through, Steve was my hope. My hope for peace, for love, and, maybe, for an answer to all of the tragedy. Maybe it would be our life together that would make this pain worth it all.