The serum would end up killing Steve, precisely because it was keeping him alive. Steve hadn’t been able to get wounded enough on the battlefield, hadn’t been able to die of natural causes, and hadn’t even been able to age. He was one hundred and seventy-seven years old—or a less impressive one hundred and seven, if you took away the seventy years he’d spent under the ice—and he still looked like he’d looked on the day of Erskine’s death. The only thread that bound him to this world was the serum; hence the serum would be the cause of his death when it finally took mercy on him and decided to let him go.
Which was soon. It had to be.
Mature, Interstellar!AU, angst. I haven’t seen the movie, and now I honestly don’t think I want to, because it couldn’t possibly pack a punch like this fic. Seriously, it’s one heartbreak after the other as Steve finds himself suddenly pulled back into life by a last ditch attempt to save humanity, along with Bruce – and a silent, withdrawn guy named James Chekov. Who Steve sometimes calls “Bucky” without knowing why… Oh, my heart!