While everything appeared strange and bright, Steve knew his city. This was Manhattan. There was no way he wouldn't know New York. They ran north up 7th avenue until they reached the metro station on W 48th street. Whichever train was coming didn't matter, as long as they got away from those men and the large black cars.
The woman holding his hand was laughing. The sound of it, the clear delight in her face, made him smile a bit. But there was still confusion in his blue eyes. Confusion, and loss.
"This... This is New York?" It came out as a question, no matter how much he knew the city. The radio broadcast had been a lie, the room he'd woken in had been a lie. Was it all a lie? Was this a nightmare, still? The last thing he remembered...
He shuddered, and stopped remembering. He didn't want the memory of the water creeping in, the freezing cold water, numbing his legs as he--
His hand clenched hers, tightly for an instant, then springing open as he got control of his strength, not quite letting go but cradling her hand in his like delicate glass. "I'm sorry," he breathed, as though struggling to speak. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"