swashbuckler:

( Cut for torture ).

Steve woke up screaming, thrashing in his bedsheets.  Panic fled quickly, responses honed from two years living in a warzone taking over as he instantly accessed where he was.  His bedroom at Avengers Mansion.  He remembered now.  He'd decided to crash here rather than head back to the empty apartment.  It just wasn't home when Anya wasn't there.

He stared down at his right hand, covered with its synthetic coating of flesh.  He flexed the fingers, cybernetic relays transmitting feedback and other data straight to his brain.  Most of the time... he could almost forget it wasn't real.  He could smile, put back on the role of the smart-alex, forget that he had been a soldier instead of a super-hero, forget what he had done and what had been done to him.

Most of the time.  What a lie that was.

He stared at the clock.  2:43 in the AM. 

Faux-flesh covered fingers sought and found his cellphone.  Odds were Anya would be up in the lab anyway. 

He dialed his wife.