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Steve didn’t think it would be this cold this high up. Sure, it was the middle of winter. Sure, it generally got colder the higher he flew, but this? This was like he’d gone to Antarctica or something.
The rattling behind him threw everything back into focus. Right, the bombs. The bombs he was going to blow up. To save everyone. To win the day. For Diana. Steve adjusted the grip on his gun, turned back, and aimed.
His hand was shaking.
But, surely that wouldn’t matter, right?
He kept pointing the gun.
Crap.
He twisted back, and steadied himself. What a joy of a situation. Back when he joined the war, he knew he could die. When he became a spy, he knew he could die. He even almost did. Then Diana came. She saved him. He didn’t deserve her, but she saved him. But there was no Diana now. She was off being completely, utterly, unbelievably amazing.
God, all that talk with her about ‘doing something’ in this war. He didn’t dreamof doing something like this. His father probably didn’t either, when he suggested it. Was he really about to do this? Sacrifice himself? Do the noble thing?
Steve took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
He’d made that decision before he even got on this plane.
Once again, he turned back. He opened his eyes, now ready to shoot the—
Wait.
Where did the bombs go?
“I’ll get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do,” came a tinny female voice.
Steve twisted around, frantically looking all around him. He wasn’t in the plane anymore, and he wasn’t sitting down either. Whatever he was on rumbled and shuddered, and he had to grab onto a railing to hold his balance. There was so much noise. He looked out though the man-sized hole in the window and saw…daylight? Wasn’t it meant to be the middle of the night? He must’ve been on a different plane – a plane that looked to be absolutely massive.
How could he have gotten in a different plane?
“There’s not enough time,” another voice responded, male this time.
There was someone else here?
“This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York,” the other man continued.
Steve peered around a column and saw a blond-haired young man sitting in front a bunch of levers and gauges and some other things he’d never even heard of before. He was dressed in mainly blue, with streaks of red and white. His clothing looked padded and sturdy, was meant to be armour?
“…I’m going to have to put her in the water.” His voice was mournful, but also accepting. Steve recognised the tone.
“Please, don’t do this. We-we have time. We can work it out!” The woman’s voice was cracking.
“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die.” The man paused. “Peggy,” he said softly. “This is my choice.”
There was no response from the woman.
The man got out something from a pocket and placed it gently on one of the gauges. Steve couldn’t see what it was from here, but the man was gazing at it. Then he gripped the controls and the plane began to tip.
Steve thought this would be as good a time as any to say something, and took a few steps forward.
“Hello?”
Everything stopped.
Literally.
They were still angled downwards, but they weren’t descending. The wind had stopped blowing. There was complete silence. Steve thought the man was frozen too, until he turned around.
“What’s going on? What-what are you doing here?”
The man seemed just as surprised to see him as he was.
“I don’t know,” Steve replied. “One minute I was on a plane. Next thing, I’m on a…plane. A different plane, was what I meant to say.”
“Then you’re not a Nazi.”
There was an unspoken question there, Steve knew that. But a nazi? What on earth was that?
“Nazi?”
At that, the man stood. He wore a white star on his chest. The whole red-white-blue scheme was starting to make some sense.
“You know, Nazis? The Germans? The war?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here, and say you’re American?”
The man straightened. “Yes. My name’s Steve Rogers. Or you might know me as Captain America.”
Steve almost laughed. Captain America? What a name.
“Well, Mr America, where I come from, we just call them Germans. Not Nazis,or whatever.”
Steve Rogers, or Captain Rogers, blinked at him in disbelief. “It isn’t just a name we call them. They’re a political party, remember? Albeit a fascist political party.” At Steve’s blank stare, Captain Rogers continued, a step towards him with every sentence, though his words were laced with surprise. “Their talk about the ‘master race’? Their acts of genocide? Have you even heard of Hitler?”
Steve shook his head. “News to me. But whoever they are, they sound…horrible.”
He felt uneasy, no, absolutely sick. Surely he would have heard of something like this. News would’ve travelled. Was America fighting a completely different war to them? Why wouldn’t they disclose something like this?
“I don’t know who this ‘Hitler’ guy is, but right now, I’m trying to save some innocent people from Ludendorff. Or was trying, anyway.”
“Ludendorff?” Captain Rogers put a hand to his chin. “But he was…no. No, that can’t be right. He’s dead.”
“You know already? How could you? No Americans fought with us.”
“Trevor, he died. Years ago. Before I was born.”
“Before you were…what?”
What?
If Ludendorff was killed so many years ago, did that mean…? Was he in the future? With Diana and her awesome power, he was ready to believe anything.
“What year is it?” Steve asked.
“Nineteen forty-five.”
“Nineteen forty—”
A breathless laugh escaped Steve. Forty years. He was nearly forty years in the future. And they were still fighting. He never wished for a drink more than at this moment. Truly a war without end.
“But Diana said she would…”
Did she fail? Or did Ares…?
No.
No. Steve didn’t even want to finish that thought. Diana was powerful, probably just as strong as Ares. There was no way that she’d let him win.
Steve’s eyes began to water. “Shit!” He put his hands to his head and took a deep breath. “So, is that it, then? Is this war-to-end-all-wars never going to fucking end?”
A soft breeze pushed through the hole in the window. The plane trembled slightly, and Captain Rogers put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“If you’re from where I think you’re from, it’s going to be okay.”
“Okay? Okay? We’re been fighting a war for forty years and you say it’s ‘going to be okay’?”
“Forty years? What? No, Trevor!” The plane was shuddering now, and the breeze was turning into a blast of air. Captain Rogers looked at the controls, then turned back to him. “Trevor, we win.”
Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
“We win,” he repeated. “Germany signs the armistice for peace at the end of nineteen-eighteen. Your war will end. I mean,” Captain Rogers cracked a smile, “it’s twenty years until the next war, but it’s going to be okay.”
The war ends?
Steve smiled in return.
He couldn’t quite feel the hand on his shoulder. Captain Rogers was blurring out of view. He blinked to clear his vision, but that made everything fade faster.
Steve Trevor was back on the plane. His plane. His gun was aimed to the bombs again, but it wasn’t shaking. He couldn’t help but laugh.
The war ends. Diana wins. She’ll live.