Sometimes, for no reason at all, Captain America disappears. Most of the time he reappears after a week or so, but once his vanishing act lasted a whole month. Most of the time the media doesn’t even bother reporting on it, but during the longer stretches, conspiracy theorists go crazy. He’s been captured! they speculate on Twitter. Fox News collectively scrunches their noses, bemoaning the utter irresponsibility of the so-called Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Some reporters are bold enough to go to the Avengers for answers, but they always come up empty. The lucky ones get Tony, who sends them on their way with a Scotch and a polite, but firm, no comment. The reporters foolish enough to try to question Natasha quickly retreat, grateful to still have all of their limbs.
Eventually, they give up. Captain America is an important man, a busy man, and the world supposes that he’s on a mission overseas or protecting them somehow.
But while the Captain is AWOL, somewhere in Brooklyn, Steve Rogers wilts around a Brooklyn brownstone, listless and glassy-eyed. He doesn’t eat much, barely sleeps, and while he haunts the small apartment, guilt threatens to eat him alive.
“I should be doing something,” Steve mumbles on a particularly bad morning. He’s fucking useless is what he is, moping about like this. He can’t even get out of bed, and the tabloids have been clamoring for his reappearance.
“You’ve done enough,” Bucky says firmly, laying down beside him and allowing Steve to pillow himself on Bucky’s chest. “Let someone else take care of it for a change.” Bucky knows that Steve wants to argue. The world needs Captain America, is the go-to excuse to keep on fighting when he’s clearly not well.
Yeah well I need Steve Rogers, Bucky said the night before, settling his hand on the back of Steve’s neck. So the world is going to have to fucking deal with it.
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