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𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝑂 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒?
☀︎︎
The darkness around him dissolved into bright daylight. Edward was on the floor again, his hands scuffed and feet feeling like he was floating on air. His head was spinning, the gravel in front of him looking as if it was next to his nose and far out of reach at the same time.
Edward closed his eyes, acclimatising himself to the pounding in his head. He looked up, already knowing to expect something different, to somehow be somewhere different. The towering structures of the new york city skyline had been replaced with the view of a single large building. Large, iron gates stood behind him, separating him from a busy road beyond, where skinny cars similar to the ones parked on the New York streets zipped past at speeds matched with lightning. Edward observed the street signs, the coloured backgrounds reflective, far different to the plain ones he remembered. He was in Washington D.C now.
His thoughts of Peggy, which had stuck with him before he'd been transported through whatever that dark swirl of colours had been, left the minute his head made contact with his arms that sprawled across the ground. The panicking picked up minutes later. What the hell was happening? One minute he was face first in the dirt, running from a man who looked exactly like Howard Stark, the next he was wandering around New York with no exact idea how he got there, and now he was in Washington for the first time in his life.
Steve Rogers. Captain freaking America was still alive.
God, he wished Peggy was here to see it, no matter in what obscure timeline he was in. In his short lifetime, Edward had only ever known two people who would always have the answers. It was no surprise to anyone that it was both Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. He'd only met Steve a handful of times, but he was his idol, as he was to many people during the war and as it appeared, now too.
Edward staggered to his feet and ran his hand through his hair, feeling the dirt and grime that already stuck to the ends of each strand. Unsurprisingly, nothing was familiar. There was no sign he could recognise or building he could place. So, he walked forward, rounding around the back of the enclosed area, searching for anything that could help.
If the stacked wheelchairs that he could see through the windows and the bowling green was anything to go off of, Edward had found himself in a retirement home. The garden was neatly trimmed, the furniture expensive and precisely placed, and around the small patch of grass that snaked around the flower beds, a small, chained fence held a no intruders sign, backing the iron fence that was hidden by a rim of tall trees.
Edward stopped by the flower beds, with no clue on what to do. The patches of pansies and large daisies reminded him of his home in England, where his mother would plant flower borders, only to be messed up again by Peggy and his older brother Michael. But that was unimportant. Dwelling on the past was pointless, as he'd once been told by Steve. It was what you do and who you are today, that mattered.
As he stepped across the grass, picking a single pansy flower, shouts echoed from in front, their voices reaching his ears angrily. Edward's head snapped up, eyes widening as he found two men hurrying toward him, both wearing some sort of matching uniforms.
"You can't be here, young man. Come here," they ordered, but Edward was already stumbling backwards.
The gates were shut, closed securely with a key code on the other side. He closed his eyes as he scurried away, trying to will his body to make him disappear again in the ways he'd done twice before. But no change came. The gravel still crunched under his quick feet. The other two times, he'd been falling, Edward remembered with a start. Without another second to think, he was propelling himself forward, throwing his arms out wide to catch him on the other side.
With a thud, Edward fell straight to the floor, the shouts of the men still behind him. It hadn't worked.
He needed Peggy. He needed Steve. He needed someone who could help him figure out whatever futuristic mess he'd managed to tumble into. All he knew, was that this reality was not his, no matter how familiar the town names were. He didn't even know what year it was, and by the looks of it, he was definitely somehow not in 1947 anymore. And Captain America was alive. He needed to find Steve. If anybody knew where his sister was in this existence, it would be Steve.
Edward felt his balance shift. It was as if a rope had been tied around his knees, trapping his movement, stopping him in his tracks. Yet, he was still moving, travelling forward at a speed far quicker than he'd been running. His arms were flailing, circling in their sockets, moving slowly despite his speed, like a spoon through thick treacle. It felt dark as if he'd been covered in a cloak, keeping in the cold, and at the same time, he could see everything clearly, like a reflection in a perfectly still lake.
This time, as if he'd known what was happening before it came to be, Edward stopped himself upright, standing firmly on his feet, his hands safely by his side. The floor anchored him, instead of cushioning his heavy fall. For a moment, Edward blinked against the harsh light and caught his breath. He could hear footsteps, alerted by his sudden appearance. He glanced around for a way out, for some sign of where he'd escaped to, but came up with nothing but a blank wall, a floor to ceiling glass window looking out across a vast field of green opposite.
The footsteps drew closer, stopping abruptly by the door. Edward froze, eyes travelling to land on the bulk figure of a man. He saw the broad shoulders, the dusty blonde hair, the clean-shaven face. He recognised the bright blue eyes with the hinted flecks of green, eyes that Peggy had loved. Edward noticed every inch of the man's face and paled. It was like looking at a ghost.
"Steve?" Edward blurted out, and at the sound of his voice, the man seemed to recognise him too.
