te and blue. disappointment curls thick and heavy through his gut, and as his careful eyes slowly sweep the area again, he realises he has no idea where he is.

he＊s surrounded by mist, thick and imprable. he can see the broken concrete around him, the shattered remains of a car to his right. a broken lamppost leans across the street. he can see the shadows of buildings around him, grey and towering in the gloom.

he reaches up and pushes his cowl back from his face, hand lingering on the back of his head as he takes in his surroundings. it reminds him of a winter dawn in new york long ago, when he and bucky had been out in the fog at some godforsaken hour of the morning, before the rest of the city had stirred. it doesn＊t feel right though. it＊s too quiet, too still.

belatedly, he looks down at himself to check he＊s in one piece. his uniform is filthy, and it＊s covered in dried blood which is never a good sign. the fabric on his right shoulder is ripped, and as he lifts his arm he spots a ragged, blood-edged hole in his side and he remembers.

the robots, the battle, the call to assemble. the fight, the metal bar, the blood.

oh god.

he scrabbles at the tear in his uniform and stops dead as he sees nothing but clean skin beneath. that＊s not right 每 he knows he heals quickly but he had a damn metal stake shoved into his chest and now nothing? not so much as a bruise?

he looks up and around again, starting to feel panic working its way through his chest, because the pieces are slowly merging together and the only conclusions that he can draw are a) that he＊s been lying there on the ground for at least a week and something terrible has happened to new york whist he＊s been knocked out and healing, or b) he＊s dead.

※hello?§ he calls out, voice sounding muffled under the oppressive fog. ※anyone?§

he holds his breath, waiting, hoping, praying. the silence stretches out and out, and the mist seems to thicken around him, the whole world shrinking and stretching away. letting out a shaking breath, steve tries not to let the panic and grief he can feel overwhelm him. fingers trembling, he reaches up to press his palm to his forehead, breathing more rapidly. oh god, the team 每 where are they? do they know what＊s happened to him? hang on, does he even know what＊s happened to him? he shivers as the mist swirls ever closer and inexplicably thinks of red and gold armour at his side, and his chest clenches as he remembers tony＊s panicked face, because it was tony as his side when he, when he-

※hello?§

steve gasps in shock at the sound of a voice nearby. he lowers his hand and tries to call back, ignoring the voice in his head that warns him that he should wait to see if the voice belongs to a friend or an enemy.

※hello,§ he tries, voice catching in his chest. he clears his throat roughly, tries again. ※hello?§

footsteps approach, swift and hurried. a shadow stirs in the fog and steve contemplates getting up, but his whole body feels shaky and not as strong as he knows it should be. hedging his bets, he stays where he is on his ass on the concrete, hands planted either side of his hips and body tense as he waits. he keeps his eyes fixed on where the light shifts and darkens, the shadow sharpening into the clear silhouette of a man, tall and broad-

and steve promptly stops breathing for the second time in one day, as the figure finally appears from the mist.

it＊s him.

steve stares, mind drawing nothing but blanks because it＊s him who is advancing through the fog, expression worried and determined. his own face, his own body, but he＊s different 每 he＊s wearing a dark navy suit, so dark in the gloom that it looks almost black. the star is still there on his chest, but it＊s a faded grey, discreet andpletely unlike the gleaming silver of his own. his hair is short, practically a buzzcut and what the ever-loving hell is going on?

※damn,§ he hears himself say, and his doppelganger jogs over and drops to his knees beside him, just like tony had done when he＊d been lying on the damn floor bleeding everywhere. he looks concerned but not at all shocked to find a copy of himself sat on the floor in the middle of fucking nowhere, and now steve＊s internal monologue is turning a shade hysterical. ※are you-§

the double reaches out to grasp his shoulder, right where the tear in his uniform is. steve gasps and jerks back, partly because he can＊t wrap his head around the fact he＊s being touched by himself, and partly because of how cold the double＊s fingers are. steve＊s head swims as he watches his own face turn confused, a frown causing a cleft between his eyebrows. the double sits back on his heels, running a hand over his brutally short hair.

※you＊re not dead,§ he says uncertainly.

steve gapes at him, and when he speaks his voice sounds strangled. ※am i meant to be?§

the-other-steve nods. ※if you＊re here, you should be dead,§ he says matter-of-factly, but he still looks unsure. ※what happened?§

※what 每 what happened?§ he repeats, eyes dropping to the ground and darting back and forth as he thinks, remembers, tries to work out what the hell he should be doing. ※i - i got stabbed by a robot 每 and tony was there calling me a fucker, and then i＊m here, and you＊re 每 you＊re me, how have you-§

he scrambles even further back away from his double, ignoring the flare of pain in his aching limbs. ※you＊re not real,§ he says adamantly. ※you can＊t be-§

the-other-steve laughs, short and clipped. he runs a hand over his mouth, still sat back on his heels. ※we all say that when we first get here,§ he says, but then the serious look rolls back over his features. ※though you＊re the first to get here and not actually be dead.§

※we?§ steve manages to say. ※we?§