Why am I starting yet another story? Purely because the new movie for this genre is coming out, and I'd like to have this published and available to read for everyone. At least, the first couple chapter published.

Standard disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel or Avengers or Captain America. My OC and this plot are the only things I lay claim to.

Many thanks to my beta, Amodestpoet, who had such faith that I would eventually be posting this story, he even made a reference to it in one of his. Love ya, buddy!

Forewarning for this chapter: I am not a survival specialist and neither are my characters. If they do something wrong that an amateur would do, please forgive them. If it's something that Captain America would darn straight know better, then please review or even better, send me a PM. I can't learn from my mistakes if I don't know they exist.

That being said, please read and enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Lessons from Huxley

"Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead."

-Aldous Huxley

Three weeks in Alaska wasn't long enough.

High mountains and rolling hills between them.

Tall trees and wide expanses of prairie between the wide forests.

Fishermen dotted the rivers he passed as he drove down the long highways. Steve had heard the salmon were running this time of year, and he'd seen the evidence of it himself. The first time he ate out, he'd ordered a salmon dish and it tasted nothing like any of the fish he'd eaten before.

When he'd told that to the waitress, she just laughed and told him, "That's the wild Alaska difference."

And now, he was flying out in a small propeller plane to check out the mountains from above.

It was a small plane, but even so, it wasn't filled to maximum capacity with passengers. In fact, it was just him and one other individual. A young woman he'd bumped into for a brief moment while climbing into the aircraft.

She'd giggled and blushed and wouldn't look him directly in the eye. Not until he'd settled into his seat and they were both waiting for the pilot to finish his flight check and take off.

When he'd brushed past her, the first thing he noticed was that she smelled like smoke. Not cigarettes or even charcoal, but the distinctive smoke that drifts off a wood fire. A person only ends up smelling like that when they are sitting around a campfire or an outdoor fire pit. Sometimes it's to keep warm, other times it's to keep an eye on the food roasting over the flames.

The second thing he'd noticed was her jacket. Steve was certain that at one time the fabric was a bright lime green. Now, though, it was dark and almost a pea green. Patches of it seemed to retain a semblance of its original coloring, while other patches were simply smears of dirt. She'd taken it off after she found her seat, and folded up the fabric in her lap.

Normally this was a sign of an outdoorsy person, but everything else about this woman indicated that she clearly wasn't.

Her blond hair was pulled back with only her bangs hanging over her face and framing her cheeks. What little of her face he'd seen showed flawless makeup. Her pieces of jewelry all matched, and the yellow of her blouse was flattering with her skin tone. He was a little surprised by her choice of shoes, white sandals matching the white lace of her skirt.

The skirt stopped at her knee, and Steve found himself staring at her legs a little too long. He couldn't help, but marvel at the definition of her calf muscles. Romanoff had legs like those, but Steve figured that came with the territory for an agent like her. While he couldn't be totally certain that the woman next to him wasn't a trained assassin, he was pretty sure the toned characteristic of her legs came from a totally different source.

Over all, her entire body appeared slim once she'd pulled the jacket off.

When his eyes finally flickered up to her face and blue eyes caught green, he found himself pleased by the mirth that settled there. She smiled at him too, and Steve couldn't help but smile back.

The woman fidgeted for a moment, picking at the skin surrounding her nails until she finally built up the courage to break the silence.

"I've always wanted to do one of these flights." At Steve's questioning look, she added, "One where I was actually flying in between the mountains, instead of over them like the commercial flights do."

He nodded his understanding. "I've heard it's an incredible sight."

She grinned. "That's what I'm counting on."

Silence fell again.

Once more the woman was left looking around, waiting for the pilot to take off. Finally, her gaze fell on the soft coat folded up in her lap. She grimaced, held it up.

"This thing has seen better days."

Steve chuckled, "It certainly looks well worn, ma'am."

Shrugging, she told him, "It's really a perfect jacket for Alaskan summer weather. Not too warm, and surprisingly lightweight. I could have picked a better color than a bright green, though."

"Is that what color it is?" Steve squinted at it.

She gave him a sheepish look and nodded her head.

Steve realized his question might have been slightly insulting. "Well, it still is green," he tried, "just not bright green."

"From all the dirt and smoke stains, yes I am aware," she informed him dryly.

He could feel the heat building in his cheeks and neck.

She caught the blush and wondered what caused it. She opened her mouth to speak or spout of some other random statement, but the pilot chose that moment to finally speak.

"Alright lady and gentleman, we are about to embark on a lovely journey through some Alaskan mountains. Please keep your seatbelts buckled at all time, with your tray tables and seat backs in their upright and locked positions."

Steve frowned while the blonde laughed. He vaguely remembered the phrase from his flight out to Alaska. Vaguely.

The grey-haired man continued, "My name is Rick, you may call me Rick or Captain or Captain Rick."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Captain Rick. I'm Juliet," the blonde offered with a soft smile. She glanced at Steve out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm Steve," he said, catching the hint.

"Good to have you folks onboard, Steve, Juliet," Rick responded with a nod aimed in each of their directions.

And with that, he set the plane into the beginning motions of take off.

Sighing happily, Juliet settled back into her seat. She sneaked a look at Steve.

The blond man was as relaxed as she was, and calmly gazing out the window. When she'd first saw him, the wave of his side parted hair and brilliant blue eyes made her breath stick in the back of her throat and the woman running the desk had given Juliet a knowing look.

After that, Juliet had to work up the courage to look the man in the face again. Which, of course, wasn't until both of them were seated on the small plane.

She looked around again. The plane really was small, smaller than she had anticipated when booking the sky tour. Not that she was afraid of heights or flying, but common sense does kick in at some point paired with that annoyingly useful survival sense. Clearly, her senses were not functioning up to par today.

It wasn't long after the bouncy take off that Juliet forgot her nerves. Instead, she was nearly plastered to her window, drinking in the fantastic views slowly, oh so slowly, drifting by.

When she spared a moment to look up, her left hand lashed out to hit Steve on the shoulder. "Steve, look look look!"

He jumped when her hand made contact with his shoulder, head turning in alarm. Quickly, he caught sight of the eagle hovering just over their line of sight and far closer to the plane than he would have expected. The creature was beating its wings in a steady and strong fashion, absolutely unhurried despite the plane passing beneath it. It was near enough that Steve would make out some of the definition of the feathers adorning it's underbelly.

Grinning, his uttered, "Wow," drew a flash of a smile from the woman seated next to him.

"Just look at him," she breathed. "Isn't he just gorgeous?"

Steve's eyes flicked to the awed woman before almost lazily gazing back at the bald eagle. "Yes, ma'am. He's beautiful," he agreed. "Though, how can you be so sure it's a male?"

She giggled. "I can't be, but it would be just like a man to show off like this."

"Oh really?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised. "I've seen a fair number of women showing off in my time, ma'am."

Juliet rolled her eyes, "But look at him. If that isn't the bird version of a strut, I don't know what is."

At that, Steve found himself agreeing. The animal certainly did look proud, even when it suddenly veered off and left the two human observers wanting.

Juliet leaned back in her seat and Steve too settled back. "Well, I'd say that just made this flight worth it."

"Glad to hear it!" Rick barked from his seat in front of them. "We don't often get a sight like that."

"Really?" Juliet asked, surprised and not at the same time. She shook her head in wonder.

"Yeah," Rick told her. "You folks are lucky the weather is looking so good too. We've got a couple of clouds up ahead, but nothing big."

"Gotcha." Juliet responded. "Awesome."

"So, you folks been in Alaska long?"

Juliet's eyebrow rose at the question, but Steve was the one to verbally respond.

"How do you know we don't live here?"

Rick chuckled. "You, my man, have got the worst poker face I've ever seen this far west. And that is saying something."

Steve frowned. "What does that have to do with it?"

Juliet leaned over and stage whispered, "He means you've been too awed by your surroundings to have been living here for any amount of time."

"That's right," Rick agreed. "And you, missy, need to rethink your choice in footwear."

Steve laughed out loud.

"Hey!" Juliet tried to glare at the man, but it was a weak attempt at best. "I'll have you know I have sensible shoes packed in my bag." She lifted the overly large purse onto her lap.

The captain snorted. "Right… What else have you got in there? Your knitting for Christmas?"

"How…? Thanksgiving actually, though good guess." She truly seemed to be impressed as Juliet tucked her bag back under her seat.

"What?" Steve asked a little incredulous as he began to laugh.

Rick was quiet for a moment. "You are kidding me aren't you? You really have your knitting in that bag?"

"Along with my sneakers and a pair of clean socks, yes."

Steve couldn't stop himself from shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?" Juliet asked a little defensively. "The sneakers are in case I need them, and the knitting is in case I get bored."

"Bored?" Rick nearly roared. "Were expecting to be bored on my flight?"

She tried to placate the offended man. "No, no. Not on your flight. Before your flight, like when we were waiting for you to finish your pre-flight safety checks and whatnot."

He eyed her over his shoulder. "I didn't see you pull out no knittin'."

She shrugged. "I had Steve to talk to."

Rick snorted again, shook his head.

Juliet shared a look with Steve and cracked up in a fit of giggles. Neither man could help, but follow her in chuckles.

Unnoticed by either of his passengers, Rick shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed a hand against his chest with a wince. The nose of the plane drooped for a bare second before Rick jerked back into action. "Sorry folks, don't think that chili dog at lunch is agreeing with me."

Juliet winced sympathetically and said, "Yeah that kind of food is always great at the time of consumption."

"Sometimes not even then," Steve mentioned.

The trio chuckled again and the cabin fell into a comfortable silence shortly after.

Juliet allowed herself to get lost in the sights of the mountains around her. She wished she'd thought to get a disposable camera to replace the camera that she'd lost the day before. The views from the plane were just incredible.

She could even see some definition to the trees.

Juliet frowned.

She couldn't see that kind of definition earlier. Were they dropping lower, or was the ground rising to meet them?

"Hey Rick," she spoke up. "What's the elevation of this area?"

Steve glanced at her as if he was thinking along similar lines.

Both waited for an answer.

Just as Juliet was saying "Rick?" again, Steve had unbuckled his seatbelt and was shaking the pilot's shoulder.

Confused and not a little bit alarmed, Juliet watched as Steve's hand disappeared around the man's think jacket collar.

He met her wary eyes. "Do you know CPR?"

Even as she nodded yes, the blond man was hauling the older one out of his seat and into the small space between the seats.

As Juliet opened Rick's thick jacket in order to better feel his chest, she asked Steve, "You think you can fly this thing?"

"I can try."

She resisted the hysterical urge to give a Yoda impersonation. Instead, she focused her energy on beginning CPR as she had been taught only a few months before. Dragging her hands down his chest to the appropriate spot and lacing her fingers together, she began the chest compressions. C-A-B as she had been told by the instructor.

Chest compressions to get the blood circulating, something only recently found to be more important to start first instead of the other two steps.

Completed chest compression led to Juliet checking the aging pilot's airway. Once she'd confirmed it was clear, she carefully breathed two breaths into the man's non-functioning lungs.

"Come on, come on," Juliet muttered as she started the cycle again, trying desperately to ignore the shaking of plane as it hit some unknown turbulence. "Jesus, please. Please." We need You desperately.

When her stomach suddenly dropped, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Steve?" She cried. "We going down?"

"How's the pilot?" He called back instead of answering.

She shook her head, forgetting that he couldn't see her. "Nonresponsive." A sob bubbled up in her chest. Her movements gained an edge of desperation to them.

In the front Steve swore to himself.

"Leave him. Strap in." The bark of his command cut through her building panic and she scrambled for her seat.

"We going down?" She asked again, even though the answer seemed obvious.

He didn't look away from the instruments in front of him. "I'm going to aim for a lake."

He heard her voice again, but tuned her out, tried to keep his focus on what was in front of him and not the dead and frightened civilians behind him. The pattern and lilt of her words were familiar though.

As the plane continued to go down, Juliet's voice rose in volume and force. She was calling out, crying out for something or someone. Steve didn't know which, didn't care to listen long enough to find out.

Her seeming monologue didn't end when they first skimmed the water and lost a wing, not even when they rolled a full turn, but rather was cut short when they slammed into the surface of the lake and the cabin filled with the sound of rushing water.

Steve acted first, wrenching himself out of the pilot's chair and rounding on the woman who was gaping like a fish in her seat. Moving quickly, he knocked her hands aside, to which she let out a pained hiss as he quickly undid the buckle of her seatbelt. The water was just starting to hit her waist and was still rising.

He turned and faced one of the large front windows. The plane was sinking quickly and the water was cold. Cold as ice, only this time he was awake and wasn't alone. Steve lifted one foot and kicked at the large window. The glass crumpled under the strength of Captain America. A torrent of water followed.

When he was facing Juliet again, he found that the woman was standing and attempting to haul Rick up off the floor. She slipped under the pilot's weight and the flow of the water hitting her ribcage.

Juliet lost her grip on Rick's shirt as she pulled herself up sputtering. A strong arm banded across her sternum and helped her regain her footing. A firm voice spoke in her ear.

"Once the cabin fills up, we'll be able to swim out of here easier."

The water was starting to flow over her shoulders as Juliet nodded. "I can swim. You get Rick?"

Steve nodded. He knew there was little chance that Rick would make it, but a small chance was better than no chance.

Juliet tried to keep her breathing steady, but jeez, the water was cold. It felt like it was literally stealing her breath. She trudged as well as she could, as near as she could to the window. Steve fisted a hand into Rick's jacket as his body floated next to them.

And just like that, their heads were under the water.

The flow of the water was considerably weaker now with the pressure equalized between the inside of the plane and the outside. Not wanting to waste any time, Juliet made for the open window as soon as she realized she could swim without being pushed back by the water rushing in.

Her left arm refused to work right, but she utilized all her remaining limbs, aiming for the sun she could barely see shining through the surface. It was far harder than it should have been.

Once again, she felt Steve wrap an arm around her middle as he made his way for the surface. Relief flooded through her when her head finally broke the surface and took in a deep breath. The man didn't let her go, he kept pulling her and she tried to kick and swim as best she could to keep from dragging him down. She headed for the line of trees and didn't stop kicking until her knees hit the muddy bank.

She still felt Steve's hands on her as she crawled up the bank. For the moment, her focus was on getting out of the frigid water. When the touch of his hands suddenly disappeared, Juliet waited until she was out of the water before she began to look around wildly for the man.

He was swimming back towards the shore when she found him, the prone body of Rick being tugged behind him.

Juliet threw the heavy bag still on her back onto the muddy bank and sloshed back into the water. She got up to her knees before the first gust of wind hit her and the shivers became suddenly noticeable. With only one useful arm and the fingers of that arm already starting to cramp up, Juliet knew she wasn't going to be much help when Steve got Rick to shore.

When the blond man finally pulled the older pilot's body onto the muddy bank, Juliet dropped into position by the man's graying head. She cleared his airway, while Steve fell to knees next to the man's rib cage. He repeated the same moves that Juliet had done on the plane, with the same result. Juliet performed the emergency breathing at the appropriate times, but it was no use.

Rick never took another breath.

Eventually, Steve pulled Juliet up and away from the dead man. She let him, mind too shocked and numb to properly and emotionally process everything that had happened.

When she set down hard on a warm surface and hands warmer than her own began to rub her arm vigorously, Juliet forced herself out of her reverie. She forced herself to focus.

"Steve?" Her voice cracked.

"Yes?" He asked.

She could feel the muscles in her shoulders shaking, along with her stomach muscles. Juliet wasn't too sure her voice was going to be working for much longer. "Water… freaking cold." Another gust of wind hit her and she held back a pained cry as the wet cold of her blouse cut through her body.

"I hate to say this, ma'am, but –"

"Bag," she cut him off.

He frowned at her.

"B-bag." She insisted, pointing behind him.

Steve turned and saw the soaking bag. Sighing, he stepped away from the chilled woman to grab it.

He was surprised by the weight of it and was reminded that she had both shoes and knitting stashed in this bag.

A glance at her feet confirmed that she was in fact still wearing her sandals.

"You want your shoes?" he asked, opening up the bag. "We really need to get you warmed up first."

"No…" came out her choked whisper. "No shoes… emer-emergen-gency blanket. Small box."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he began to dig through the bag in earnest. He found the small cardboard box containing the emergency blanket and wasted no time in ripping it open. Unfolding the thin metallic plastic, Steve approached Juliet with the purpose of wrapping it around her shoulders.

"No, wait." She said. She tugged at the hem of her blouse. "Too wet. Too cold."

He opened his mouth to speak and settled for turning around. "I promise, ma'am, I won't look more than necessary."

Juliet would have chuckled if another gust of wind hadn't stolen her breath from her. She really would have chuckled the pain in her shoulder wasn't getting so much worse.

"Steve, I – I can't move my-my arm. Need your help," she told him. She wondered if she was blushing.

He faced her again, this time much more hesitant in his movements.

"Please," she whispered. This was no time for modesty, unfortunately.

She was a bit mollified by the blush spreading across Steve's cheeks. At least she wasn't the only one embarrassed by the situation.

"Alright," he said, tone much softer than it had been before. "Your left arm, right?"

She nodded.

Steve carefully arranged the emergency blanket behind her so she could grab it quickly when the wet clothing was no longer in contact with her skin.

"Ok," he said, voice still soft and calming.

Juliet wondered who needed to be calmer, her or him.

"I'll help you take your blouse off, then you are going to cover yourself with that blanket while I take a look at your shoulder, ok ma'am?"

"S-sounds good-d." She tried to smile at him.

Very gently, he began to lift up the fabric on her right side.

A/N: I have been to Alaska in the summer, and I have to say that I absolutely loved it. I am really looking forward to going back one day. Eventually.

And no, the next chapter is not going to be any sort of steamy. This is merely an instant of practicality over modesty, 'cuz hypothermia is no joke. I've been cold in the field before and I was miserable. However, I had to luxury of a warmish jacket and shelter only a short hike away. Juliet... does not. Wet clothes making you colder? Get out of the wet clothes.

I hope you all enjoyed this first segment. Any thoughts? Wants? Desires? Hates? Let me know. :)

-Spirit