Changes (A Prequel to "Through, Together")

No Rest for the Wicked

The lights on the Coney Island ferris wheel were red. All red. Steve guessed that it was some attempt at romantic ambiance, but to him it just looked like blood. It cast an eerie glow over everything, painting the world in a hue that belonged in Halloween shops. He stood on the ground, looking up at the ferris wheel with his hands in his pockets. It wasn't moving. Far up, at the very top swing, sat a woman. She had perfect brown curls, perfect red-painted lips; perfect brown eyes.

Peggy...

Steve had told her to wait for him. He told her he'd meet her there, and they'd get back to that life they both knew they wanted. And there she was. Waiting. All Steve had to do was walk up to the ferris wheel, push that big red button, and bring her back down to him. It was simple, really, but he couldn't do it, because the rest of Coney Island was a mess. There was garbage all over the place and dumpster fires burning; adding an intense heat to the already red-soaked world. He wasn't even sure who had caused it all. He supposed it didn't really matter. Pointing fingers wasn't going to do any good. Facts were still facts. There was a mess, and it needed cleaned up.

Peggy turned her head and looked down, all those dozens of feet, at Steve. Her red lips curled into a smile.

"Steve!" She called out to him.

He didn't answer.

"Steve?" She looked confused. "Steve..."

"Steve. Steve, wake up."

Something jostled his shoulder.

Steve's blue eyes opened wide, accompanied by a quiet gasp that brought him back to the land of the living. He focused in to see a familiar face hovering above him. He saw red hair where he once saw brown. Green eyes looked down at him with concern that reminded him of the eyes he'd seen in his dream. It was quickly fading, though. Chased away by the present.

"Nat..." he slowly sat up. "What is it?"

"We've gotta move," she said. She stepped away from the bed and tilted her head to the side, watching him curiously. "Were you dreaming?" She asked.

"Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck in a further attempt to chase the sleep away. "Yeah. Must've been."

"What about?"

"Don't remember." He said. Peggy. He thought dismally. Always Peggy.

At least, it'd been that way since the fallout. Since Tony and Bucky and the Sokovia Accords and Sharon. God. Sharon. What a mess. Steve felt like he'd failed Peggy in some way. Even though she was gone, he felt he owed it to her memory to keep this... dream of hers alive. She'd put so much faith in S.H.I.E.L.D. In the greater good. Camaraderie and togetherness. Steve felt like he'd smashed it all to hell. There were pieces everywhere. The Avengers were those pieces, scattered across a chess board, and he had no idea how to pick them all up.

Natasha didn't seem to buy his lie, but she didn't say anything about it. After all, who was she to knock someone for keeping secrets? Her whole life had been built upon them. Only recently was she coming to terms with the whole "honesty" thing, and some days it was still a struggle. She couldn't fault Steve for wanting to keep something close to the chest. She knew him, and knew how to read people, well enough to know that he was full of shit, but that didn't matter right now. It wouldn't have been fair, anyway. She'd barged into his room without so much as a knock. Regardless, they had bigger fish to fry than dissecting his dreams. She got back to business.

"Ross has his headhunters looking for us," Natasha said. "We can't let them come sniffing around here."

"Right," Steve grumbled as he stood up. "We wouldn't be very good houseguests if we brought an army to our host's doorstep."