Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, was lost. Unfortunately this wasn't the first time, or the second. Although the blonde had grown up in New York City, the sheer busyness of the place made it almost alien to him, not to mention the people, who were so different from those in his time that he was almost constantly lost or confused as to where he was going. The fact that he had been too proud to ask S.H.I.E.L.D for a guide, or 'handler' as they called them, probably made his situation even worse.

Steve made an exasperated noise in his throat as he turned down yet another unrecognisable street a headache starting to form at the back of his skull. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and made his way down the street, searching for a tourist booth or maybe a police station. He found neither, and turned a corner, strolling into a wide street, the Brooklyn Bridge to his right and an unrecognisable building to his left.

Steve frowned at read the sign over the gilded doors 'UNITED STATES MISSION TO THE UNITED NATIONS BUILDING' wait the untied nations? Nat had informed him about that organisation, although he didn't know much more than that they were formed to achieve world peace after world war two was over, and that if you asked Fury about them, he had quite a few swear words to describe their leaders. Maybe he could find directions, or even better, a S.H.I.E.L.D official, inside.

He was just about to enter the building when a pair of burly security guards blocked his path, one holding out a hand 'identification please sir' he stated formally. Steve swallowed. He didn't have his passport with him, and his drivers licence was non-existent, not to mention it would have been at least sixty years out of date. His brain worked furiously to formulate a reply, and he was just about to launch into a long story about his wallet being stolen when a man with a shock of white hair pushed past the security guards, coming face to face with the world war two legend.

The white haired man frowned and shoved his way past Steve, muttering something along the lines of 'get out of my way, arsloch' it only took Steve a moment to recognise him after he heard that accent, the one whose sneering words had haunted his nightmares long after the accident on the train. He observed the man walk away from him, unsure of why he wasn't bursting with rage right at this moment. He wondered idly why the man hadn't aged, and what on earth he was doing at the United Nations, there wasn't more than one super solider, right?

He decided almost unconsciously to follow the man, who was making his way towards a sleek black Volkswagen at the edge of the car park. Steve studied the man carefully. He looked different from the last time he had seen him, less tired but also more haunted and gaunt looking, definitely skinnier, with more prominent cheekbones. His white hair was long and scraggly, contrasting with his lavish suit.

He had pulled out a phone at this point, having forgotten completely about Steve.

The man was just about to open the door of his spotless car when Steve snapped. Hew grabbed the significantly smaller man and shoved him against the side of the car, snarling as the man whipped around, and with surprisingly strong reflexes, kicked Steve's legs out from beneath him and sent a kick to his chest. Steve gasped and lay there for a second, out of breath, but grabbed the man's leg with one strong hand and pulled him down, punching him in the stomach twice and grasping him in a crushing choke-hold. The man struggled for a moment longer, snarling and scratching and biting, but even he knew he wasn't as strong as he used to be. He let out a tired sigh and went still.

Steve loosened his grip slightly, shoving the man into the car and ripping the seatbelt out in order to tie his hands up. He made sure the man was securely tied into the passenger seat before getting into the driver seat and putting the keys in the ignition.

The man shot him a glare as he started the engine and let out a stream of harsh words in German. Steve ignored him and drove the car out of the car park and down the road, marvelling at the fact that neither security guard had noticed the scuffle.

The car journey was entirely silent, save the radio Steve had turned on about half way through the drive. The only cds in the car were either weird German rock or classical music, loads of Bach, Mozart and Chopin.

Steve wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with his technical prisoner, he certainly hadn't thought this through and he didn't even want to think about the consequences of kidnapping and assaulting a UN official, if not someone more important. He arrived at his apartment just before dusk, and smuggled his silent prisoner into his flat, disregarding calls and messages left by tony and Bruce asking him out for dinner with them and Clint, who was back from a quick recon mission, something about a drunk Englishman with a machine gun and government secrets.

Steve ignored these tales and tied the still-silent German to a chair, becoming slightly unnerved by how complacent he was. Was he planning something?

He hoped not. The super solider had very few weapons in his home, and he wasn't even really sure how to work his iphone yet, because tony had absolutely insisted that getting something that was easy to manage, like a flip-phone, was completely out of

the question.

Steve turned his attention to the albino German in front of him, who was observing him quietly with a faint grin on his face. Steve noticed two or three of his front teeth were filed, and his tie had fallen off in the fight, revealing an ancient iron cross on a black cord around his neck.

'Who are you? Steve asked suddenly'.

'Actually, what are you?

The albino grinned, his scarlet eyes boring into Steve's own.

'If I told you that, I would be giving away secrets, ja?. Trust me, you don't want to know, human'

Steve swallowed. Something about the man's piercing gaze unnerved him and he wasn't sure what to reply. Steve sifted through the man's wallet, coming across an ancient-looking sketch of a small, serious-looking blonde boy. He held up the picture

'Who's this?'

The man gave a slight shrug

'That's my bruder, Ludwig. He's a good boy'

'Why do you want to know?'

Steve narrowed his eyes. 'This drawing is at least an hundred years old, what are you hiding?'

Steve had a feeling that if the man could move his arms he would have raised them over his head in an innocent position. 'I don't know why you're trying to get me to admit I don't age, you already know don't you? you met me seventy years ago and i'm still the same age? You know, the day I killed your little boyfriend? You remember that don't you?

Steve moved across the room so fast even the albino didn't register it until he was right in front of him.

'shut the fuck up right now if you know what's good for you' the blonde hissed into the German's face. The man laughed and shook his head. 'You're so like Ludwig I don't even know where to start! Say, do you have an Italian boyfriend too? Or maybe you're too scarred after the last one died…'

Steve struck out and slapped the man across the face, snapping his head back and sending his white hair fanning across his pale face, now marred by an angry red mark. The albino shook the blow off with a shrug and continued talking. 'so what's your name freund? Im Gilbert Beillschmidt if you really want to know, and I like small birds and annoying angry Americans like you'

Steve took a deep breath and ignored the man's chatter. 'why did you kill him?' he asked quietly. The albino-Gilbert-frowned and bit his lip.

'It was war mein freund. You killed many friends of mine you know. You can't expect me to spare yours if you're going to go ahead and murder battalions of soldiers, most of which don't even want to be there.'

Steve nodded. It made sense, but he still couldn't forgive Gilbert, and he was positive Gilbert felt the same.

'I didn't know, you know.' The German said softly, his voice distant, as if he was remembering something tragic.

'My brother knew what they were doing, about the camps the murders. I was never told y'know. They put me in charge of weapons and soldiers and making sure men didn't piss their pants when faced with certain death. I didn't ask about how they kept the war machine going. How the roads were still built and the labour came cheap when no one had a job and nearly everyone was dead or fighting. My brother was different during that time. He was….wrong. Both him and that man kept me in the dark and I never knew until it was over, I only dealt with killing those who killed us., ..Not all those innocent-'he choked back a slight sob and composed himself.

Steve stood there, unaware of what to do. Gilbert raised his head and looked Steve right in the eye, his moment of weakness forgotten. 'Did you know I have a tracker? As if someone as important as the awesome me would go anywhere without being able to call backup. I activated the signal about an hour ago, the FBI or whatever you Americans call them should be here in a few moments, captain.'

He grinned at the look on Steve's face, and pulled his hands out form behind his back. They were free of their bonds and Gilbert got to his feet a little shakily as Steve put up a defensive stance. , Gilbert walked right over to Steve and stood there for a moment, swaying for a moment before crashing his head into Steve's, knocking the man to the ground.

A leather boot was placed over his chest carefully, before being rammed straight into his gut. Steve coughed and a dribble of foaming blood escaped his mouth.

A swinging kick was sent to his face, and moments later he was unconscious.

When the super solider awoke he was surrounded by armed officials, all pointing their loaded standard issue rifles at him. Tony bounced on the balls of his feet nervously in the corner and muttered something about Steve Really Fucking Up This Time.

He moved to stand up but the nearest armed guard yelled at him to stay down or he would shoot, only to be interrupted by a tall, well-built blonde man hauling him to his feet and dusting him off.

'Guten tag Herr Rogers, I am Ludwig Beillschmidt. We are going to have a lot to talk about if you want to get out of this alive'

idk about this chapter but whatever i'll post it. the opinions expressed in this story are not mine, they're just how i think the characters would feel and react to these situations.

yeah so review if you like it and if not please tell me why, i want to do anything i can to improve my writing