Captain America asked no more questions.
They flew over ice fields, over the ocean, over land.
The lights on the ground grew denser and denser, going from dots to patches, from patches to a sea. New York spread out beneath them, skyscrapers rising in clusters, neon flashing, electronic screens pulsing against the night sky.
Ian landed on the roof of a building and let go of Captain America's shoulder. Captain America stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking down over the city.
He saw Times Square, those massive electronic screens playing ads, their colors vivid, their brightness glaring. He saw the skyscrapers. The Empire State Building was still there, but many taller buildings had risen around it. He saw the streams of traffic, packed tight, like a glowing river.
"New York has changed," Captain America said.
Ian stood beside him.
"So have you."
Captain America turned to look at him.
"I haven't changed. I was asleep."
"That's good, then."
Captain America looked at Ian.
"You still haven't told me your name."
"Ian. Ian Kent."
Captain America turned the name over in his mind, but couldn't remember where he might have heard it before. He looked at the city, at all the things he couldn't understand.
"Let's go," Captain America said. "Take me to see this fun you were talking about."
Captain America stood at the edge of the rooftop, shield in hand, the night wind tugging at the hem of his clothes and mussing the short hair that had been sealed in ice for seventy years. He looked at Ian, and in those blue eyes was something that wasn't confusion, wasn't wariness, but the patience of an old soldier waiting for orders.
Ian looked at him.
"You're not suited to go see the fun right now."
Captain America frowned