Can't Forget

You know you're a geek when you're inspired to write a fan fiction by history class...

We're (finally) in the World War 2 chapter in history. And in one of our lectures, the topic of Concentration/Labor/ Extermination Camps was brought up.

It, of course, inspired me to write this.

Warning: This story contains dark and morbid scenes from a Concentration Camp. There was nothing good about them. I try to write honestly and sometimes it gets a little... Rough.
There are also scenes of panic attacks/PTSD.

Please read at your own risk.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT agree with Steve when it comes to Germany. I agree with him when it comes to Nazis, but not Germans in general. And if he seems a little racist, well, it happens in war. I don't condone it, but I do recognise it.

Also, Todeshaus is a fictional camp. I didn't want to mess with the history of any real one.

Please read and let me know what you think.

God bless,
Jamie

~TH~

Steve Rogers hated Germany. Really he did. He hated being there. Hated the memories that pulled at him. Of course, a large Hydra base was set up there. Of course, they had important information about Loki's staff that just had to be gotten in person. Of course, as leader of the Avengers, he had to go.

But he was Captain America. He was fine. Always was. So he fought, trying to block out the memories of so many similar battles. He caught himself before calling his teammates by the wrong names. The Commandos were all dead. Well, except for Bucky. And there were days where he wasn't sure which was worse.

He tried to remember that these Nazi's weren't the same ones he fought seventy years ago. There was just... Something. The base felt so familiar.

The battle only lasted about an hour before the victory was theirs. Tony was able to get whatever information he needed out of the base. There were no major injuries. It was great. It was good. They could go home now.

He shuddered at the memories clawing at his brain.

The Iron Man suit plopped down beside him, causing him to jump. The faceplate flicked up and Tony turned a suddenly concerned gaze to the Captain.

"Hey, you good Spangles? You're looking a little pale."

Steve plastered on his best Captain America smile before turning to Tony. "Just ready to get back home."

Tony nodded. It was no secret that Steve had had a hard time ever since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. He tried to hide it. Tried to act like everything was fine, but it wasn't and he was getting worse. The worse it got, the harder it was to hide.

"Let's start back to the quinjet," Cap said after several awkward moments of silence.

Natasha lead a freshly de-Hulked, redressed Bruce to where Tony and Steve were standing. Clint and Thor were quick to join the small pack.

The German police showed up, nodding to the Avengers before going to arrest any surviving terrorists. Germany taking down Hydra. What a twist in fate.

He started walking towards the waiting quinjet which was about five miles away. It was the only place clear enough to land without being spotted. All the while, he tried not to be bitter. He really did. He knew it wasn't all of the German's fault. He knew that many people went along with Hiter as simply a means for survival. But so many had died. So many good men, some he would even call friends, had died at the hands of ruthless German's who were even more brutal than necessary. He knew all of Hydra wasn't German. Here in the twenty-first century, he'd met American Hydra operatives for crying out loud. But the resentment still flared up. Still made him angry in a very un-Captain America way. Forgive and forget, right? Easier said than done.