Every reaction that came from her only made Steve more confused, and surer still that something must've happened, something must be terribly wrong. He caught the near sob that she choked out halfway up her throat and swallowed back down, and his expression bled with worry, eyebrows knit, his face alone asking all the questions he didn't voice.

It took her a moment, but finally, she answered. And at first, it made no sense. Sure, he wasn't supposed to survive. But he was here now, so he must have. Right? He was only human, after all. Her myths —her realities— couldn't go so far as to bring a man back to life, could they?

And yet, here she was, saying just that to him. That to all effects and purposes, he was dead for a long time, and now... he wasn't. Somehow. And it was all because of her. Because she went to some insane epic lengths just to have him back.

Feelings welled up in his chest, conflicting, loud, overwhelming. He tried to breathe but it choked halfway down his throat in a near sob, and he moved his hand to her upper arm, holding on, fingertips of his other hand brushing lightly against the hair behind her ear.

(Her hair was caught up into a neat, perfect ponytail, too. That was also strange and unexpected.)

"How long has it been?"