a truck-sized block of concrete to keep them steady.

※No,§ Seven says shortly. ※And that＊s pretty telling, huh?§

Steve just smiles grimly and vows to never ever let the shield out of his sight again when he gets back. He＊ll get Tony to glue the damn thing to his hand if needs be. SJ coughs again, letting go of Steve＊s shirt to cover his mouth, eyes wide and uncertain.

They all fall quiet; the only sound is their boots on the rough concrete and the asional cough from SJ. They press on regardless, pushing through the increasingly thick mist until Steve can barely see Seven anymore, walking only a few feet away, visible only because of the bright colours of his uniform.

They walk so far that Steve is certain they must have passed the place where he appeared, deeper into the mist than he was before. His side aches and throbs in phantom pain, recalling the agony of the injury that sent him here. He ignores it. Keeps going.

There＊s a rustle, a soft sigh of noise. A breeze picks up, ruffling Steve＊s hair and swirling the mist around them in tight eddies. Steve halts, looking around.

※That＊s not normal,§ he murmurs. Seven steps backwards, his shoulder bumping Steve＊s. He doesn＊t reply, and another stronger gust of wind pulls the mist around them again, cool fingers tugging at their hair and clothes-

'Go back, Steve Rogers. This is not the way home.'

Steve whirls around, heart pounding in his chest. ※Did you hear that?§ he asks, but Seven is already stepping forwards whole body tense and ready to leap into action.

'This is not the way home. Not here, not yet.'

※Hello?§ Steve shouts as the faint voice drifts through the mist again, distant and muffled. ※Who＊s there?§

※Who is that?§ SJ breathes. ※Steve?§

※There!§ Seven barks, and Steve whips around just in time to see a dark shadow shift in the mist, the faint silhouette of what could be a person. Seven is off before Steve can get a word out, vaulting over the crumpled remains of a car and lunging forwards, and damnit, that's exactly what he'd be doing if he didn't have SJ to think about-

Another shadow moves in the periphery of Steve＊s vision and Steve spins around to try and catch it, SJ gasping at the sudden turn. ※Wait!§ he bellows at Seven, but he＊s gone, chasing the first shadow, or is it the same one moving too quickly to properly track-?

'You are here to learn, Steve Rogers,' the voice whispers, curling around him like silk, the word learn echoing and fading. 'Here to learn, here to see.'

※See what?§ Steve shouts out, and the shadows flits past on his left this time, closer than before.

'Too many wars, too many battles,' the voice whispers, and it＊s repeating itself, layer upon layer of voice threading through the air, wrapping around him and curling away, distant and too close all at one. 'When you learn, we will send everyone home.'

※What do you mean, home? Back to life?§

'You go back to your life when you have learned, Steve Rogers. The others go back to where they have earned the right to be, their place in death.'

And all at once the mist erupts in front of Steve, layers upon layers of blinding colour whipped up like a tornado, and he cries out and instinctively throws a hand up in front of his face. The wind is now tearing at his hair and clothes and SJ is clutching him so tightly, and he has to step forwards on one foot, bracing himself against the sudden storm, the deafening roar of the wind. He manages to open his watering eyes and he spots countless images dancing in front of him, like a thousand screens have been thrown up around him. Some tower above them like the buildings behind, some are no bigger than a sketchbook. Their edges are indistinct, the sound blurred and echoing like they＊re underwater, the movements within speeding up and slowing down uncontrollably, and in the centre of each one is a Steve Rogers, a different Steve Rogers every time-

Through streaming eyes he spots himself in a blue uniform standing with Tony and Clint at a table, laughing and leaning forwards, blond hair hanging in his eyes as Tony throws his hands up in the air. The image twists and is snatched away, and then through the rush of wind and colour there＊s another Steve in olive military dress, dancing with an aged Peggy Carter and beaming at her like she hung the sun, moon and stars. Another younger Steve, leaping into a river with a Bucky who can＊t be older than fifteen, hollering and whooping. A navy blue Steve lying on his back on some grass, with a Tony Stark next to him, head on Steve＊s stomach and fingers linked lazily together, faint smile curving his mouth. A Steve walking hand in hand with a blond woman, grinning as she swats him on the back of the head with a sheaf of files and then pulls him in for a kiss.

Back to their real place in death, the voice repeats in his ear, and Steve staggers back a step in the force of the wind, boots scraping across the concrete. Metal screeches and concrete groans; debris flies through the air around them and he puts a hand on the back of SJ's head, wildly hoping nothing hits them. He forces his eyes to stay open though, and he sees a Steve in jeans and a T-shirt hefting a child up into his arms, rolling his eyes at a blond woman across a kitchen table; another walking slowly and alone through a snow-filled forest; a Steve in full Captain America gear pressing a Tony up against a metal wall, catching his mouth in a kiss; a Captain America sitting in a booth in a diner, crammed in with the rest of the Avengers and falling asleep with his head resting on Natasha＊s shoulder as Clint steals his fries.

"No," Steve chokes out, and he can barely stay upright anymore, keeping his eyes open is absolute agony but he can't look away. He holds his free hand in front of his face to try and shield his eyes from the worst of the wind, and he can feel it tearing at his hair, cold and stinging. SJ is screaming, and still the imagese, the glimpses of a thousand other worlds.

There's the distant sound of swooping airplanes, roaring engines, and Steve sees himself in modern army fatigues, howling with laughter as a Bucky in the same modern military dress half struts, half staggers across sandy ground, a beer in his hand and slopping all over his wrist; now it's a Steve Rogers in civilian gear next to a Tony Stark in casual attire, and they＊re walking through a corridor and there＊s a small kid between them, clutching their hands and swinging his feet up off the floor; a Steve in nothing but a pair of sweatpants leaning across a bed to kiss Tony, popping himself up on his fists and laughing against Tony＊s mouth as Tony grabs his dogtags and pulls him close -

And then the images are gone, wrenched away as if someone has pulled a power-line somewhere. The wind dies and the mist crawls back in, covering up the landscape around them, and Steve is gasping and sinking unsteadily to his knees, SJ still in his arms and clinging to him like he＊s never going to let go. He＊s sobbing into Steve＊s shoulder, coughing and gasping, chest rattling.

※I saw Bucky,§ he cries, and Steve raises a trembling hand to hold his head close. ※Steve, I want to go back to Bucky and Tom and the others, we were, we were in the p-park behind the orphanage, I could see them-§

※I know, I know,§ Steve tries to say, tries tofort him. God, it＊s not just him that＊s not meant to be here, all of them have been plucked from their own spaces across the multiverse and shoved into this place for some reason, some goddamn reason that he doesn't know. All these versions of him should be in their own afterlives, with the people they loved-

※STEVE! SJ!§

He jerks his head up as he hears Seven＊s voice, distant and indistinct.

※Here!§ He shouts back, clambering unsteadily to his feet. ※Seven! We're alright, over here!§

※Don＊t move!§ Seven bellows back, and then Steve hears him approaching, sees his silhouette form and break in the mist. He＊s pale and shaking, looking like he＊s just been knocked six ways from Sunday.

※Did you-§ he asks, voice hoarse. He scrambles over, concerned eyes on SJ who is still gulping in unsteady breaths, coughing every time he breathes out.

※Yeah,§ Steve replies, and he hitches SJ up and runs a hand up and down his back. SJ shifts as close as he can possibly get to Steve, his wracking sobs turning to shuddering breaths as Steve holds him close.

※We＊re not meant to be here,§ Seven says violently. ※None of us.§

Steve nods, feeling a lump in his throat at the distraught expression on Seven＊s face. Steve notices he＊s got his wedding ring clutched in his fist, the chain swinging freely and glinting in the pale grey light. God, there＊s no chance he wouldn＊t have seen a version of him with Tony, and his heart must feel like it＊s been torn out, realising that he＊s here and not with Tony in his own afterlife, in his own heaven or whatever the hell those places were-

Steve takes a steadying breath in,poses himself. ※So,§ he says, voice rough. ※Seems it＊s not just about getting me home anymore, is it?§

Seven＊s hand 每 the one holding the ring 每 jerks up slightly, his knuckles tightening. ※No,§ he says, somewhere between determined and distressed, and he＊s got that look on his face that Steve knows all too well. ※Not anymore.§

Tony stands next to Steve＊s shoulder, reaches out and gently touches his shoulder. ※I＊ve-§ he begins, clears his throat roughly. ※I＊ve got to go back to the tower. Paperwork, and legal stuff, and things I don＊t care about. You know, the usual. Barton＊s staying here, and I＊ll be back when I＊ve done with the whole multi-nationalpany thing.§

He has no reason to linger, but he can＊t make his feet move. He stands there uselessly besides Steve＊s bed, eyes on Steve＊s face, not wanting to leave even for the night because if he leaves and something happens-

Breathing out hard through his nose, Tony shuts his eyes andposes himself. He forces his eyes open and then without thinking about it, leans forwards and presses his mouth to Steve＊s forehead. He

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