I can't believe this story has over 1k reads and 100 votes! It means so much to me! This story is only up one month today, the 23rd August so happy one month anniversary and thank you for all the support. You guys are marvellous x

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Steve's PoV

He lay there, staring at the plain white wall in his room, watching the city lights dance across the paint. The rain that thundered against the roof blurred the lights together, merging the colours and creating something beautiful. Steve lay there, on his marshmallow of a bed, begging for sleep to consume him, pleading for his exhaustion to take its hold and pull him into a deep, restful sleep, but it didn't happen.

The Captain had tried reading, but had given up. His brain wouldn't focus on the words. His eyes would skim the pages, but his mind wouldn't register what he had just read, resulting in him rereading the first three pages of the same book for over an hour.

As he watched the glow of the city waltz on the wall as the sound of rain drew quieter. He sat up, turning so his feet touched the floor as he let out a sigh. He ran this hand through his hair, his eyes flickering towards the window. He stopped, hand midway through his blonde hair as he noticed it.

The skyline was brightening.

Steve jumped up from the bed, rushing to the cabinet that Howard had so kindly stocked for him. He snatched a sketchbook and pencil from it, before dashing back to his room, grabbing one of the kitchen chairs as he went. He positioned the chair in from of the window, before throwing it open. He was instantly hit with a sharp, cold wind, the smell of petrichor rushing into the room. He opened the black leather bound sketchbook and couldn't resist, holding it under his nose, breathing in the familiar, welcoming smell the pages emitted. As a smiled tugged on his lips as he sat on the chair, leaning the book against the window sill and got to work.

He started with the buildings, focusing on the general outline of them for the moment and adding everything else he could see as the skyline got brighter. The rain clouds began dispersing gradually, allowing more light to break through the gaps. As the sky changed colours from a dark grey-blue to a lighter blue-pink, Steve began shading. He added shadows and tones to the pictures, slowly bringing the picture to life. Finally, as the sky broke the horizon, Steve added it in, along with some final shadows and the glints of light reflecting off the buildings. He finished it off, adding in clouds and as much colour to the sky in the drawing as possible, but still managing to capture its beauty, even if he was only using a dull pencil.

He smiled proudly down at his work, feeling that sense of satisfaction that he only got from drawing. His eyes moved back to the skyline, the real one, watching as the city, his city, was basked in sunlight. Steve folded his arms, resting them on the window sill as he leaned forward slightly. After a few moments, he rested his head on his arms as the sky continued to change colour. Slowly, as the world around him woke up, his eyes drooped closed, sleep finally taking over.

-
He ran through the forest, seeing bodies drop left right and centre as they attacked the base. They had been sent on a mission against Hydra and both sides were struggling to defeat the other.

Bombs went off every few seconds, the constant sound of guns firing filling the cold air, leaving a terrible ringing in the Captain's ears. Dirt and debris rained down as they ran, dodging trees and bullets alike.

He fired his gun, over and over again. His mind focused, letting his lungs fill with the sharp frozen air as he pulled the trigger, his hand steady and unwavering.

He whipped his shield in front of him as he saw a Hydra agent up a tree to his left. The shield collided with him, knocking from the high branches to the frozen earth with a thud. Steve didn't check if he was still alive, he would risk everyone's lives by doing so. Instead, while his morality was screaming at him, he collected his shield and kept going, not giving the man a second glance.

Captain America led sprinted through the dark forest, the Howling Commandos by his side, dodging enemy fire and sending back plenty of their own.

Steve was flanked by Dugan and Falsworth, Jones, Morita and even Dernier, all spread out from his left to his right. The only one he couldn't see was Bucky, not from his peripheral view. He assumed his friend was behind them, maybe even up on a hill or in a tree somewhere, taking out the enemy from higher ground.

"He's not dead," Steve thought to himself as he threw his shield again. "He's around here somewhere."

Gun fire filled the air, killing and wounding men on both sides. That noise had been so constant for so long, if started to feel as normal as the sound wind blowing through the trees, the sound of laughter at a party, the sound of bird's chorus in the early morning. Of course none of these men had heard any of those sounds for quite some time. This was a war after all.

This battle wasn't a matter of who was the strongest side or who had the best aim, not to them at that moment. It was about the amount of prayers you could say before you joined the others on the hard soil. It was the amount of people you could save before you couldn't any more. It was about trying to win this goddamn war before you lost every single person you ever cared about.

War wasn't what they had made it up to be. It wasn't a blast. It wasn't anything, but soul destroying. They couldn't feel proud of themselves for winning a battle or fighting for their country, not when they were surrounded by the ghosts of their friends you had lost and the men they had killed or watched die. They lost who they were, becoming empty shells of their previous shells, one fallen pal at a time.

It was hell on earth.

Steve ran, dodging roots and trees and managing to keep going. Suddenly a bomb went off just ahead of him. The force sent him flying through the air along with the debris. He landed with a hard thud, his fall made worse by the impact of the frozen, leaf covered ground. Even as his body connected with the earth, he knew something wasn't right. He sat up as quickly as he could, gritting his teeth against the ringing in his ears, before grabbing his gun and standing up.

He stumbled around the area, looking for the commandos but they were nowhere in sight. He turned around, his eyes scanning everywhere, but he couldn't see them. The ringing in his ears quietened down as he rested against a tree, trying to figure out what had just happened.

That's when he noticed it.

The gun fire. It had stopped.

Steve looked around the tree towards where the Hydra agents had been, but there was no sign of them. He rounded the tree, moving towards the enemy line, gun raised. There was no need. It was empty. There was no one around, no guns, no ammo, not even a sign that someone had been there.

He started to moved deeper into the forest, unsure of how to react when he heard something. He raised his gun, ready to shoot whoever or whatever it was. Then he heard it again.

A groan of pain.

Steve's breath stuck in his throat as his feet guided him towards the noise as quickly as they could. He kept his gun raised, in case it was a trick, but judging from the wails that he could hear, no one could fake that.

He weaved his way through trees as the noise got louder steadily until the Captain rounded another tree and he saw what was making the noise, or whom. The slight made bile rise up the back of his throat as he dropped his gun and shield in shock.

It was them. The Howling Commandos. His friends. All lying on the solid earth, their bodies mangled as they stared blankly at nothing. Their limbs were bent at awkward angles, their faces paling rapidly as the crimson blood that covered them began swimming down the slight slope towards his feet.

He heard another whimper, quieter this time, but still there.

Captain Rogers had to do the unthinkable. He quickly moved from man to man, rolling them over and checking for a pulse. Their bodies were smashed to pieces. Bones protruding from their skin, stab wounds on their chests and a random bullet wound here and there. Every time there was no heart beat, Steve let a strangled cry escape his lips, before closing the eyes of his dear friends. He moved through them as quickly as he could, saying a simple goodbye to each of them; Jones, Falsworth, Morita and Dernier.

Finally he made it to Dugan. Steve crouched down beside the Sergeant, seeing his eyes flickered from the sky above them to him, his breathing extremely shallow.

Steve quickly assessed his injuries. Both his legs were broken, leaving them bent at extremely awkward angles and he had a deep stab wound to his lower abdomen. He had lost a lot of blood. Steve looked around for something he could use to help his friend, but there was nothing. Steve felt so helpless as he looked down at the man's agonised expression, tears in his eyes.

He took Dum Dum Dugan's freezing hand in his own, squeezing it tight, causing Dugan to look up at him again, tears pouring down his face.

"Everythin' is gonna be okay," he said soothingly, trying to convict both himself and his dying friend.

"C-Cap?" Dugan choked out.

"Y-Yeah, Dum Dum? What is it?" Steve leaned closer to his friend so he wouldn't have to strain himself.

"P-please Cap. Please. Ju-just get it over with," Dugan replied, tears flowing down his face. "Make it stop. Please," he managed through sobs as he looked up at the Captain.

Steve knew what he was asking him to do. How could he do this? He didn't want to kill his friend. How could he live with himself after that? The look in Sergeant Timothy Dugan's eye begged him, pleaded him to do it. He didn't want to suffer anymore. Steve took a deep breath. He would do it. He would do it for his friend and he would learn to live with it.

Steve nodded his head, tears falling down his face.

"It's okay, Sergeant. I-I'll take the pain away."

Dugan smiled up at him gratefully, another tear rolling down his face.

Bang.

A shot rang out in the forest, but Steve hadn't moved for his gun yet. The Captain froze, watching his friend's eyes unfocus as a stream of blood poured from the hole in his head, a trace of a smile still lingering on his lips.

Steve's body finally reacted as he jumped up, whipping around, ready to kill the Hydra agent who had shot Dugan. But the person he saw, made his knees give out, landing him back in the blood sodden earth as he stared at the man before him.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes stood in front of him, gun still facing towards the man he had just shot, his friend.

Bucky wasn't dressed as he was with the commandos. Instead, he wore the black uniform of "the ghost" when they last met in the USSR.

The ghost's eyes moved to Steve, startling him as he spoke.

"You could have saved them you know," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Why didn't you?"

Steve watched as his best friend pointed the gun at him, an evil smirk on his face as pulled the trigger.

Bang.

-
Steve woke with a fright as he hit the floor. He lay there for a moment as the last images of the lifelong best friend left his mind. He groaned slightly as he pushed himself up, resting his back against the icy wall, before bring his knees to his chest and hugging them tight. He felt a lump form in the back of his throat as he tried to stay calm.

"It was only a dream," he thought to himself, trying to convince himself, but it didn't stop the pain.

He sat there, tears falling down his face as the pain of the dream washed over him again. The room was quiet apart from the sobs that racked through Steve's body and the city outside his open window.

-
His eyes flickered open slightly, confusing him to where he was for a moment. He lay on the floor, curled into a ball, his head using his forearm for a pillow. He sat up slowly, shivering as he realised the window was still open.

Steve couldn't remember falling asleep. All he could remember was the heartbreak that his dream has caused him.he stood up slowly, taking a few deep breaths as he leaned his hands on the window sill, looking out across Brooklyn.

Despite the fact that the window was open all night and it was practically below freezing, his room felt stuffy and lacking in fresh air.

He looked at the clock and sighed. It was 7:30am, much too early for a Saturday morning. He groaned, knowing he couldn't go back to sleep, not if he was going to have another dream like that.

He grabbed his pencil and sketchbook, closed the window and quickly changing from his sweatpants into warmer clothes. He walked into the kitchen, placing his supplies on the table before grabbing his favourite leather jacket from the coat rack. He threw it on, grabbing the book and keys before heading to the door. He opened it and stopped.

"Pencil," he thought to himself.

He walked back to the tables, picking up the pencil and putting in his pocket for later as he moved back towards the door. His eyes passed the coat rack again, but this time he saw something that made him do a double take.

It was a coat. A black dress coat. Her black dress coat.

Steve swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat. He had almost forgotten that he had gone back to Murphy's and collected their after saying goodbye to her. He sighed. He'd give it to Peggy when he saw her next, whenever that may be.

He breathed in a deep breath, peeling his eyes away from the coat as he stepped out the door.

-
Steve walked a few blocks, the cold air causing him to tighten his jacket around himself as he watched his breath hang in the air.

When he arrived at his destination he sighed with relief, a small smile forming on his face. He still knew his way around.

He headed into Prospect Park, his hands deep in his pockets to avoid the freezing wind. He already knew the place he wanted to sketch. He had been there countless times before, but for some reason had never drawn it.

Finally he heard the sound of running water, telling him that he was close. Another few steps and he could see it. He smiled as he neared the bridge and small waterfall, welcoming the sense of familiarity.

He followed the path, the gravel crunching under his foot, until he was standing in the middle of the bridge. He placed his hands on the icy metal railing as he looked out over the water. He felt peace wash over him as he pulled his sketchbook out of his pocket, leaning it on the railing before grabbing his pencil and starting to sketch.

He drew the view before him, focusing on the curves of the rocks, the sharpness of the grass on the banks and the glint of the sun reflecting off the surface of the water. He used shading to try to capture the speed of the small currents as they made their way to the serenity of of the lake.

He stayed there, losing track of both time and himself as he sketched.

When he was finished and happy with the waterfall, he moved on, sketching other things; from trees to a couple sitting on a bench with their backs to him. He felt almost normal again, as if the weight of the war and its memories were lifted off his tired shoulders for a short time.

Steve decided that it was time to head back to his apartment when his hands were gone numb. There was no point in staying out when he couldn't hold his pencil.

He made his way back to the apartment, leaving the tranquility of Prospect Park behind. He walked slowly, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, once again, for warmth, taking in the parts of Brooklyn that had changed or been forgotten.

As Steve neared his apartment, he began thinking about it. This was his hometown and the apartment was his, but for some reason, it didn't quite feel like home. It was as if something was missing, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He loved the apartment and his neighbourhood, but he still couldn't get rid of that niggling feeling in his stomach.

Steve pasted a woman dressed in a warm coat and woollen hat before he climbed the outer stairs to his building. As he opened the sore he heard a soft thump. He turned around to see that the woman had fallen. The Captain hurried down the steps as she struggled to get up and fell again. He rushed to her side, bending down to help her up.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you okay? Are you hurt? I saw you fall an-" Steve stopped as he saw the woman's face. Her familiar beauty made his breath hitch in his throat. "Peggy?"

***

If you weren't sure, Petrichor is the smell of earth after rain (thank you Doctor Who).