cap_ironman | FIC: A Dream Pang 1/1 G

Hey, all! I'm new, and this is my first time posting fic here. I've done some artwork, but I haven't actually posted a fic. So I thought I would. Here it is, yo.

Title: A Dream Pang
Author: Jonic Recheio
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,479
Summary: "There was only one man in particular he'd come here to honor, and he wasn't hidden away under apple-green grass and golden sunlight."
Author's Notes: Ye-ah, the poem in the beginning was acutally added afterwards when I was hunting through my computer for a title that just would not come, dammit!--and I wound up finding the poem and deciding that it worked. Thus, on it went. Anyway, if you don't think it works, tell me and I shall never attempt to do it again. Oh, and if you notice any typos or mistakes, feel free to point them out. I dunno exactly how to fix them in the same post, so adding that information would also be helpful. Thanks!

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew away;
And to the forest edge

You came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter,

Though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
'I dare not--too far in his footsteps stray--
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.

Not far, but near,

I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide.
But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes,

And you are here for proof.

- “A Dream Pang”, by Robert Frost

~*~

It was a bright, sickeningly pleasant type of day, the type that just seemed out of place with reality. It was the Hollywood picture of perfection, with the best lighting for wedding photos or candid family snapshots. That’s not what Tony was currently thinking about, hands forced deep into his pockets and head bowed. A light breeze trickled by, gently ruffling his hair and tugging softly at his clothing. His white dress shirt was vaguely transparent, black slacks contrasting harshly with it and his surroundings.

The only other splotches of darkness were the shadows cast by trees and pure white headstones. Tony supposed this was the best light to view Arlington in, the best picture to honor the courage of these brave, fallen men. There was only one man in particular he’d come here to honor, and he wasn’t hidden away under apple-green grass and golden sunlight. The breeze kicked up briefly, flicking pieces of hair into his eyes and wrinkling his clothes.

Despite all of the picturesque scenery, Tony couldn’t banish the air of misery that permeated the place and his mind. He stood in the shadow of a great man, or rather, the memorial to one. He’d stood in the shadow of this man since the day they’d met. He’d never lived up to it, never deserved it. Not then, and most certainly not now. He wasn’t even worthy of the common man, but standing here, in this place, that pain was distant, blurred.

The man he loved was dead, the only thing remaining of him carved from stone and mortar. A cold, dead monument for a cold, dead world. Tony knew it was bleak in the face of things around him, but he didn’t care. He’d loved and lost and decided that it wasn’t worth it to love at all if this was what it cost. He’d never stop paying for what he’d bought with his soul.

He blew out a breath, lifting his head to stare up at the perfectly sculpted stone. He hadn’t come here to honor Captain America—the world did that for him. No, he’d come here to honor Steve Rodgers, the man that time forgot. Most were simply grateful for the return of the country’s symbol of hope, wielding that iconic piece of metal yet, in the same motion firing a gun. The public may have been able to reconcile that, but Tony couldn’t.

Tony felt his eyes water from the sting of the whispery breeze brushing his face as he stared up at the statue. They all thought this was where his body had been laid to rest. Tony knew better. This masterpiece of modern art, a headstone for Captain America, was not where Steve Rodgers belonged. Steve was where no one would find him. Tony liked it that way.

A burning brand of water slipped down his left cheek and Tony absently reached up to wipe it away. He blamed it on the wind. Steve had died years ago. He was past crying over it. Truly, he was. He didn’t wake up shuddering and screaming, drenched in sweat and tears, from dreams anymore. He didn’t lie awake at night fantasizing about strong arms and warm hands. He didn’t see a bright, blue-eyed smile in every dark corner. That’s what he told himself, so that had become the lying truth.

“We won,” Tony swallowed; his voice was chipped, cracked, tired and rusty from disuse. “We found the answer, Steve. They’re gone, banished. The world is rebuilt and lives sown back together.”

He stopped, head bowing again as he fought the tightness in his chest and the lump in his throat. This was all just wrong! Why did things have to be this way? Why couldn’t life be like a fairy tale, where everything got reset at the end and everyone galloped off into the sunset happily ever-after? He wanted that, desperately. It was his turn to get the happy ending that everyone else seemed to have obtained.

He wasn’t fixed.

He was still broken.

“But I—” Tony choked on his emotions, lifting his head to gaze at the impassive stone again. “—I’m not fixed, Steve. I can’t be, not now, not ever. Not without…” he swiped angrily at his eyes, feeling oddly betrayed by the tears. His next words were barely a whisper. “…not without you.”

The cold, unfeeling stone didn’t have an answer for him, but Tony hadn’t expected it to. The last time he’d been here, he’d been shown a possible future that had made him sick with envy. A perfect world where everything had worked out, where he’d gotten every deep, dark, wretched desire of his greedy, damaged heart. Instead, he was left with the detached, indifferent hatred of the shattered world he lived in now.

He wasn’t a part of this place, not really. He was a ghost, a specter inhabiting a lofty tower that none could scale. The only one who could was gone, lost, forgotten.

Time, like the breeze, had gently danced by with no regard for the people and the places it had touched, affected. He was drowning in a sea of his own depression. The sun glared slightly over the top of the monolith, warming Tony’s tear-dirtied face and creating a glow in his shirt. This place would have been picture perfect if he wasn’t part of the landscape.

“Are you so lost that you have to come here?”

Tony jumped, an aborted sound of shock stalling in his throat as he whirled around to face the source of the carefully spoken words. Disbelief, shock, desperation, joy, and relief all pounded through his veins at once, rounding his eyes and tugging his eyebrows up towards his hairline. His hands fell slack at his sides, fingers twitching as he stared straight ahead, gaping like a retarded fish.

His eyes were lying to him, they had to be. This couldn’t be real, wasn’t real, was too impossible to be real. He wasn’t seeing this, couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t allow himself to believe he was.

“I—” Tony stopped, voice dropping out from under him. He swallowed quickly, several times in succession. “You know I am or you wouldn’t be here.”

That received a soft, indulgent smile. “No, I don’t think so. They told me this was where I’d find you, so here I am.”

“Steve…?” Tony’s voice was soft desperate, holding a painful, childlike hope that played at Steve’s heartstrings.

Steve, who stood there with the breeze gently ruffling his hair, the sun warming his skin and putting an impish, cheerful light into his honest blue eyes. His arms were crossed over a simple, black, military issue shirt that went depressingly well with his drab, olive-green pants. His lips pulled up into a subtle smile, giving character to a face Tony was sure he’d never see outside of his midnight dreams. He was still waiting, hanging from tenterhooks, for the world to implode.

“Last I checked,” Steve replied, padding closer to Tony and closing the distance.

Tony was too stunned to flinch away. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? I have to be.”

Steve rolled his eyes skyward in fond exasperation, the smile on his face widening. “No, Tony, you aren’t dreaming. You know better than that, anyway.”

“Things like this don’t happen to me,” Tony’s voice was hollow with resignation, eyes downcast and locked on the base of the stone monument looming over the both of them.

Steve sighed softly; pulling Tony’s loose, unresisting form tightly against himself and into his arms. Steve rested a hand on the back of Tony’s neck, the other over his shoulders as Tony’s arms swung limply in the air. Steve turned his head, burying his nose in the fine, dark hair pressed up to his chin. He could feel Tony’s shock and misery as if they were standing on his shoulders and screaming in his ears. He pressed a tender kiss to Tony’s head.

“They do now, Tony,” Steve whispered softly, tone as reassuring as he could make it; “they do now.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

::goes bats and flips out:: You quoted! OMG!!!(I don't normally say that, by the way). No one has done that before! You are blessed. I know I should feel sad that I made you sad, but well, that was kinda the point so I can't really bring myself to do it. ^_~

Thank you muchly for taking the time to review.

FIC: A Dream Pang 1/1 G

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