He ran faster than most men could imagine, still his breath was steady. The breeze of nighttime was relaxing on his face, and kept him going. He had to get away now, before-

"Steve! Steve, is that you? Stop!"

-Damn it! The voice, far too familiar, belonged to no other than the infamous Anthony Stark. But right now, he wasn't the usual playboy that he was known to be. He was Ironman on duty in the dirtiest parts of New York. A place Tony hated more than Nick Fury on a Monday morning, but he had to keep looking. Maybe tonight he would finally get him back home?

Steve ignored Tony and continued ahead. He had no desire of talking to him or any of his former teammates. Not right now or anytime soon.

This night hadn't been much different than most, but this time some flying smartass saw him. It wasn't like Steve had done anything wrong.

In fact the opposite. An apartment building had caught fire and because it was the cheap part of town, no one expected help for at least half an hour. Steve had tried to keep away, he really had, but in the end his strong sense of justice and need to help others when nobody else did, took over.

When he was done getting the shocked people out of their former home, he heard a fire truck in the distance. Slowly, so that on one noticed, he simply walked away. He had a special someone waiting at home, and God did he need sleep…

That was when the noise caught his ear. The sound of something racing through the air, like a small jet or an airplane. Steve knew better than to believe that, and began speeding up a little. Tony called him out, and he gave it his all to keep going unnoticed.

When he finally stepped inside his rundown-flat, locking it securely after himself, he sighed heavily and leaned his full weight against the door.

This time, it had been close. Far to close. Tony had nearly caught up with him, more times than he liked to count. He held the tears back, and tried to focus.

It had been so tempting to just stop and let Tony get to him. To talk back, explain why he had kept his distance for so long. He couldn't. How in the world did you explain THAT, without sounding like a total maniac? Until he could get a better explanation himself, he just had to leave the Avengers alone.

He missed his friends awfully much, but what choice did he have? He ran his hands through his golden locks. Damn it.

The quite sound of blankets being removed got his attention back on track. He slowly went into the living room. On the worn out sofa a small face looked right back at him, eyes sky blue, much like his own. The pitch black hair like the darkest of night, just before the sun rose for another day.

"Hey Daddy. Morning now?" –a groggy voice asked, and the little boy rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Steve couldn't help but smile. The only thing saving his sanity for the last couple of years, had been him.

It always would be. He stretched his fingers and nuzzled the toddler's wild hair.

"No, not yet. Just go back to bed, Lucas, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."

Lucas looked doubtful at him, and pouted.

"Promisssess?"

"Yeah. I promise."

Lucas still looked suspicious, but did as he was told and laid back down.

Steve sat down in the only armchair in the room, too tired to sleep. Instead he recalled how he ended up like this; in a rundown apartment smelling like an alley, with a boy barely 2-years old, hiding from all and everything he knew.

It had been just before his mission. The mission, just a few days before he fought Red Skull, before he forced the air plane into the ice and… and…

Well, it had been a great day. A warm one. His friends all celebrated that they only needed to destroy the headquarters of Hydra to be done and, hopefully, end the war. All had been out late to dance and drink, except him.

Steve sat for himself, all alone, not wanting to be found in an old tavern utterly destroyed by a bomb, they had been too late to stop. Glass and bricks lay all over the floor; no one had tried to clean the mess yet.

He starred irritated at his glass of lukewarm beer, sitting on the only unscratched chair left.

It wasn't fair. He had lost his best friend, Bucky, and he couldn't even drink himself under to forget it, not even for a second. Damn serum… He had taken a shot anyway, of cause, it didn't work. It had only emptied his pocket a little more. Not that it helped him to sit here and feel sorry for himself, Bucky wouldn't have appreciated that either.

He had decided to get back to base and get some sleep before tomorrow, the mission would require all his focus when he felt slightly dizzy. Funny, he thought. Is it an after effect of the alcohol, or… He tried to sit up which proved more problematic than expected… (he almost fell to the floor, only his dulled reflexes keeping him upright) What was happening?

He didn't have to wait for long to get the answer.

Firm steps from the former entrance could be heard, and Steve's head swayed to the side for a better view of who was coming. Not that it helped much, his gaze was getting fuzzy.

It was not someone he knew, that much was clear. Whoever it was wore a uniform, mostly in black and green. The skin was pale, the hair the darkest shade of black Steve had ever laid his eye upon. The figure was tall, and with elegant almost lazy steps the slender body, definitely male, approached him.

Now, the stranger only a few meters away, he could see the green orbs looking right back at him. The stare so intense Steve feared it would burn a hole through his chest.

"Good afternoon Steve Rogers, or do you prefer Captain of America?" The voice was unique, unlike anything Steve had heard before.

The male looked young, maybe in his late twenties, but he sounded a lot older. Wiser. The smirk on his face told you that he knew something you didn't, and it made a shiver run down Steve's spine out of discomfort.

"How do you know my name?"

The stranger chuckled and kneeled down in front of Steve, who tried to move away. He couldn't. His body denied him the power of moving of his own free will, he couldn't even look away from the stranger. His glance was too strong.

"Who doesn't? The mighty Captain America, protector of the less fortunate ones. The Soldier." The tone of the man in front of him sounded mockingly. As if he was telling a bad joke.

Steve finally broke free from the stare, only to have the stranger grapping his chin and forcing it back.

"Don't", he warned. No threats was necessary, the danger was in the word alone. The charming smile from a second earlier was far gone, his thin lips forming a barely visible line. He removed his smooth fingers, leaving Steve with a feeling of ice sinking into his skin where the stranger had touched him.

"What are you?"-Steve spat, glaring daggers into the chest of the man. The stranger smirked again, as if the situation amused him.

"Don't you worry yourself with details like that. You'll know soon enough."

The stranger raised his right hand and pointed at Steve's forehead. Steve looked confused at him, where after the man began mumbling something strange. To Steve it sounded like rubbish, but at the same time ancient and meaningful. Not that it made sense, but that was what he thought afterwards.

After that, everything went into darkness, and he only remembered fragments about what happened that day; the strangers surprisingly muscular arms wrapped around his waist, his voice, his demanding eyes and deceiving lips. Hands touching… Where they definitely shouldn't be touching!

He woke up in his own bed back at the headquarters, alone. He didn't hurt anywhere. The serum, making his body heal faster than any regular man, made sure of that, but he felt broken. As if something dear had been taking away from him by force. Something he didn't know he had, and he now felt vulnerable without.

His day went on in a haze, and when Steve looked back everything came to him in glimpses.

Invading the last Hydra base, Schmidt/ Red Skull, the blue cube of pure energy disappearing through the metal plane, his last words to Peggy… The crash…

Anyhow, he remembered waking up in a place looking like a hospital room, but he knew it wasn't. The radio beside the bed was on, and a raspy voice reported about an ongoing baseball championship. A match he had been at. The realization of being in the 21th century hit him like a train. It had all been so surrealistic the first couple of weeks.

Nick Fury convinced him to keep on fighting to protect Earth, his home. And so he did. But not alone.

On the road he meet the mysterious 'Natasha Romanov', a professional assassin, and good looking too with her crimson shoulder-length hair. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, the best archer Steve knew, and a true genius. Bruce Banner, the Hulk. A surprisingly nice guy, but being the complicated person that he was Steve hadn't talked much to him. Anthony Stark… Did he even have to explain himself? Steve could be naïve sometimes, but when it came to Tony… That guy seriously got on his nerves. He was rich, and used a lot of his time bragging about being a clever playboy. He was a good man deep down, but it was often hard to get it forward into the daylight. (Almost as if being friendly damaged his image or something…) Thor… Well Thor being Thor, was close to be a fitting description of the Asgardian prince. Polite, a little straight forward, aggressive at times but his intentions were for the best of mankind.

Then that guy turned up out of the blue. He, the only one he had been relieved to leave in the 20th century, now stood there in front of him.

No words were able to describe how he felt. Shocked, sad, uncomfortable, scared, angry, longing, confused, painful… His insides were a mess, so he locked it away in himself.

The Asgardian, Thor's brother Loki, didn't say anything about the incidence, just smiled that creepy smile of his. Constantly.

Steve had to use all of his self-control not to march right in front of him, and demand some long deserved answers. It would only make the others ask questions that he by no means wanted to reply.

After the Avengers, and himself too, learned to do some real teamwork New York was safe once more, Thor caught Loki.

They kept him custody for a night before Thor would return him to Asgard for a proper punishment. No one was permitted to visit him.

Steve had done it anyway, naturally. How could he not?

Loki had been sitting on a bauble with his arms crossed, looking utterly bored when Steve approached him. He didn't even flinch.

He had taken his time to get things right so he wouldn't mess this up. He talked slowly and precise, hoping it would help. When he felt like he had said what he should, he waited for Loki's reply, which never came…

He tried to keep calm. Maybe the Asgardian hadn't heard him, maybe the force field in-between them absorbed some of the noise?

He began over again, louder, but it was the same result.

In the end he got agitated.

"You..! Why can't you just answer this and leave it be? All I want is to understand why and then I swear to leave you alone. Tell me!" Just before Steve closed the doors behind him, he heard a soft chuckle. If he had been unsure whether Loki had been the guy from that day, then he wasn't any more.

"What a compliment it is to know that you missed me somuch. Did I really make you feel that good, dear captain?"