"You and your memories, those that exist in your mind, the time spent with Howard, are another form of his existence, the most solid memento left after his death."
"Therefore, I should be grateful to you, for you can keep on living, and I can't, so, until I die, I can see the traces of his existence in you…"
Steve was no longer able to control his tears, his deep blue eyes shattered into a vast ocean, between the ebb and flow of the tides, the light was as lustrous as pearls born from clams.
The two were silent for a while, and then Tony stood up first, saying,
"Originally, when Professor X built the dream base of the Luminous Alliance, he marked our dreams at that base to facilitate pulling us over every night, so we can follow his markers to the base of the Luminous Alliance."
"Once we reach the base of the Luminous Alliance, we can also find Shiller's dream marked by Professor X within the base."
Seeing that Steve still remains silent sitting on the chair, Stark no longer attempted to explain, he closed his eyes, releasing his consciousness and looking for the potential pathways.
In a quiet moment, the room walls faded away, the light became brighter, tiles were laid, a sofa fell from the sky, and in the blink of an eye, they arrived in the reception room of the base.
Stark sighed in relief, "Thankfully, thanks to magic, I just need to provide direction and navigation, this is all very stream of consciousness."
With that, he said somewhat incredulously, "So, what kind of monsters are actually able to move freely within dreams?"
"Is this a transfer station?" Steve finally asked.
"Exactly, let me find if there are any markers...," Stark closed his eyes, concentrated, and began to feel the structure of this dream. After a while, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Found it."
But then, he furrowed his brow, opened his eyes, and looked into the air as if scanning something, he said, "...what are all these?"
"What's wrong?" Steve came up to ask.
"I found some probable pathways that might lead to other places..."
"Isn't that good? We can head over directly."
"The problem is, there are no signposts."
Stark sighed, "Professor X might have another way to distinguish these pathways, after all, I don't know the principle behind mutants' psychic abilities, but in any case, I can't figure out where these paths lead to."
"Are there many paths? Can't we try one by one?"
"We could..." After Stark finished speaking, he paused for a moment, then said, "Let's try the first one."
With a "whoosh", they were back in Stark's dream space. Stark shook his head and said, "It seems we're unlucky."
When they returned to the reception room of the Luminous Alliance, Stark chose the second path. After disappearing again, they appeared in a museum.
As soon as Stark landed, he saw an old rifle in the display cabinet in front of him. After going over, he found that it was a bit too rickety, and it was hard to determine its model based on its exterior alone.
He lowered his head to read the introduction on the display counter, which said,
"Bode Smith, 18, from a farm in Michigan, loves sweets, dreams of taking his mother to New York, is obsessed with the newly issued firearms..."
At first, Stark couldn't figure out what the gun inside had to do with the introduction until he saw some blood on the base of the gun in the light of the display case.
His fingers paused on the introduction panel of the display table. Taking another step forward, there was another display table, on which lay an old notebook. The panel read:
"David Petrov, an excellent engineer, a drunkard with a loud voice, likes to hum Soviet songs while fixing tanks..."
Further ahead, there were countless display cases filled with all sorts of junk: keys, belts, glasses, towels, and even thermometers. No real-world museum would house these things.
But beneath each item, there was a corresponding name and some disjointed and unsystematic records, probably describing favourite foods, family members, or biggest dreams.
Turning a corner, Stark saw Steve staring at the things inside another row of display cases. Upon reaching Steve, Stark saw a pair of gloves in the glass cabinet, with delicate finger parts that didn't seem masculine.
Lowering his gaze, Stark saw the name "Peggy Carter" engraved on the display case's introduction panel.
"...Once, we sat on the stoop in front of the garage, talking. She mentioned her childhood dream of becoming an artist, but in those days, few people encouraged girls to work independently."
"I promised to paint her a picture. She didn't believe me because I didn't seem like someone who could afford paintbrushes and paints, and we didn't have those things in the military. So, I burned a piece of charcoal and sketched her fixing a tank."
"She was thrilled. She desired the painting, but she didn't have the money for it. So, she gave me a pair of gloves. I knew I was smitten when I looked at her."
Steve laid his finger on the glass of the display case and then looked up at row after row of display cases, saying, "Perhaps many people believe I should have been utterly devastated after seeing Peggy for the last time..."
"However, besides the initial grief over death and parting, I felt somewhat relieved. She had a big family and was incredibly happy. She was lying peacefully on her deathbed and even managed to see her lost love before she passed. This in itself was a blessing."
"And so many others..." Steve glanced at the items in those glass display cases before he spoke, "I can hardly remember how they all died. But, among the owners of these relics in my memory, less than one in a thousand died peacefully."
"Some died from gunshot wounds, others from shrapnel lodged in their chest, and others, still from dysentery or hypothermia. I wasn't present when they died, only got a message from somewhere far..."
Steve surveyed this museum and then spoke:
"Tony, I must apologize for my impulsive defense of Bucky. But this is not about excusing myself. When I heard of Howard's death, I felt numb more than anything."
"I've heard too much news like this. On a certain date, in a certain year, someone I had crossed paths with on the battlefield died."
"They may have shared a trench with me, swapped bullets, covered each other while lighting a cigarette or even saved my life. But when they died, they left nothing behind."
Steve took a deep breath, looked up at the displays above, and said,
"Maybe you're right. Those times are gone forever."
"My existence...is proof of their contributions to the world's peace. I suppose that's the world's final mercy for an old soldier..."
Stark closed his eyes. He felt the edges of his lashes getting wet.
The man before him had borne the unbearable weights of death and separation and not just once but a million times.
Stark's sigh slowly faded into the dream space. In the dim light under the lamp, their shadows cut the long museum hallway, lined with display cases, in half. Steve stood at one end and Stark at the other.
No one heard the dull "thud" as the tilted balance restored its equilibrium. Iron Man and Captain America stood on the same side once again.