Steve Rogers (captain_srogers) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-07-30 05:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, steve rogers, ~peggy carter |
Who: Steve and Peggy
Where: their cottage
What: what else, feels
When: Tuesday predawn
Warnings: discussions of war and death, minor representation of PTSD
Open: no
Steve didn't know why the footlocker showed up, and he really didn't know why he'd opened it when it did. He knew what would be in it, all of the same things that had been in it last time and then all of the other things he never really wanted to see but couldn't get rid of either: the DVDs about him, dossiers on the Commandos and everyone else he'd known in the war, his dog tags, the uniform he'd worn in the battle of New York, still torn and bloodstained, the old books and drawings and everything that had been in his footlocker when he'd 'died'. It was all the mementos of war and battle and death that he never wanted to remember but that sat on his shoulders every moment of every day.
It seemed though, that once that box was open he couldn't stop, so he was sat in the middle of their living room, a small light on the side table casting only faint yellow light over the room, black and white videos playing on the television while he looked through old files and sketchbooks, his dog tags slung back around his neck. His fingers shook as he sifted through old, yellowed pages covered in pencil drawings of his long dead friends, cartoons of happier moments they'd had to focus on so they wouldn't think of killing and loss. He was so focused on the things in his hands, so lost in the visions of the past, that he didn't notice the tears, and didn't notice anyone else moving around the small home.