This is the last update in good old 2012. I'm gonna miss you *sniff*. 2013, here I come :)

I should probably quit that year-nonesense... :D Happy New Year to all of you!

Jane nearly dropped the tablet when she heard Stark's voice from behind.

"So, Josie, what does the spectrometre say?"

She turned around and reminded herself to stay calm. How often had she already reminded him he was to call her Ms Foster?

Stark had been at the lab for two weeks now. He and Banner were good scientists, she didn't doubt that. But while Banner was a nice, quiet person that didn't talk too much (and if he talked, it was very interesting what he had to say, whether it was scientific or just smalltalk), Stark was his total opposite. The man behaved like he owned the place, like they all should be glad he didn't throw them out. He was a pain in the ass, and Fury clearly thought so, too. The director had visited them the day Stark and Banner had come. True, the two men had found out that the Bifrost was apparently healing (but Thor had told her so, too) and that it was at approximately fifty percent power already, but nothing more. Fury had left five hours later and they hadn't heard from him ever since.

"Hey." Banner stepped next to her. "Just look at this for a moment and tell me what you think."
She looked at the graph he was showing her.

"I mean, I think we can exspect the Bifrost to be fully healed by thursday." Banner said.

Thursday. Thor's day. It was tuesday, so there were three more days to go.

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"So, Captain, where exactly are you living now?" Hill asked.

""In the apartment you had for me."

"Okay..."she changed the file.

Rogers, my office, now. Fury's voice came over the speakers.

Hill nodded. "It's okay, you can go, Captain."

"We've come to know the Bifrost has fully healed, so Thor can – and surely will – return. I've thought of the Avengers assembling there, so you have to go there, too. I know you are not living in the Tower anymore, but until I hear you want to quit, you will stay the Captain of the Avengers. That includes going to New Mexico now, even if you don't like it."

"I understand, sir. It's my duty as a team leader." Steve said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Good. You are taking off here together with Miss Potts, because Barton and Romanov, as well as Stark and Banner are already at the site, and I'd like to have Potts around to control Stark a bit."

"Yessir.", Steve answered obligatory.

"And, Captain: I would really like it if you would give it a try. During a battle, the Hulk is nearly completely useless when it comes to strategy, and so is Stark and Barton and Romanov. They may be agents, but they usually fight on their own or in a small team containing just them. The only one that could match you concerning strategy would be Thor, and he has two world where he has to be. I am afraid that weren't it for you, the team would be a completely failure. I have to relay on you, Captain. Do you understand?"

Steve bit back a smile. It was nice of Fury to think that. "Of course, sir. Thank you for... uh, pointing that out."

"Good God, take a compliment when you get one, Captain. But I'm serious. I'd rather have any of the others leave the team than you.", the director said gravely with the hint of a smile. Then it vanished. "Now get out of here. I've got work to do, and unless you have to tell me something important, you are disturbing me."

"Yessir.", Steve answered with a small salute. He decided he liked the director.

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The Bifrost was not as impressive as Steve had hoped. When he and Pepper got off the plane, he wasn't even recognized by his team members. Then Bruce stepped in, together with a woman with brown hair, probably the Foster woman Fury had talked about.

Banner lifted his gaze from the tablet and spotted the Captain looking quite uncomfortable and lost around all the gadgets.

"Steve!" he called out, and the blonde turned around.

"Dr Banner!"

They shook hands. Why didn't he call him Bruce?, Steve wondered shortly.

"Steve, this is Ms Foster. She's the leading scientist in researching the Bifrost site. Ms Foster, this is Steve Rogers, our leader."

"Hey. Yeah, I've heard about you." Foster smiled and Steve somehow felt even more uncomfortable. She was a pretty woman, but she was Thor's girlfriend.

Then Tony interrupted.

"Hey, did you really move out?" He stared at Steve. The soldier froze. Great. What was he going to tell Tony? That his complete asshole-ness spoiled living in the tower?

"Anthony, I told you you will not discuss that with Steve. That is his own decision, and you are by no way interfering with this!" Pepper stepped next to Steve and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking pretty angry.

"Hey, that's my tower, so I-"

"But I own 12% of it, and with these 12% I forbid you to do as much as think about that matter." she shot back.

"Gentlemen!" Fury stepped up. When had he arrived? "And ladies." he corrected himself. "I think we should step outside, as the Bifrost is about to come to life any moment now."

It hadn't been such a big deal after all. The Bifrost hadn't started such a big storm like it had the first time. So Tony was unimpressed and told everybody that wanted to hear it (and those who didn't) that he wasn't impressed.

Thor had landed, looking pretty much the same, and when Jane had wanted to hug him, Fury had said they should all go inside. Or rather, he had commanded that they should get the hell inside!

So here they were. Jane looked as though she was going to kill Fury any moment, Natasha and Clint stood in the corner, acting as though they weren't there at all. Tony was grinning and half paying attention to Fury, half to his phone, and completely ignoring Pepper.

And Bruce... well, Bruce was looking Bruce-ish.

Fury pulled up a screen and began tapping.

"So, Thor, there is some stuff I need to have you up-to-date to. That's why I want all of you back to New York City."

"Sir -", Jane began, but Fury didn't let her speak.

"Miss Foster, you can go with them, as well as Miss Lewis. I'd really like that, just to make sure nobody will blow up the city. That'd be a paid holiday for both of you."

Turning to all of them, he added: "We need to talk about the Avengers some other time, as I am on a tight scheldue. I set a meeting for friday next week, seven o'clock in the morning. You are not going to be late, understood? Thank you, then, that was it."

The director turned around, his leather coat flowing behind him, and left.

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Steve had stayed quiet while they flew back immediately after the director had dismissed them. He pretended to sleep and hurried back to his flat the moment they touched down at the airport. It wasn't right, he knew that, but he didn't want to be in their presence when they all discovered that he had moved out.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and locked it right behind him. A precaution. The apartment was high-tech: lights went on and off, detecting movements, the heating was turned up or down so that it was always a nice 75°F. All just another reminder of being in the wrong time.

Night was falling and New York was still lit up. He felt cold.

He should have given Tony one more chance, maybe. It wasn't his fault Howard had searched all his life for him, Steve. It had been Tony's only chance to build himself this defense, this snarky, sarcastic, idiotic, mean, arrogant behavior.

Actually, Steve thought, it was his fault. If he had tried something, like securing the steer so the plane would have dropped on its own, he could have searched for a parachute, could have saved himself.

Howard wouldn't have searched for him and found the Tesseract instead; Loki couldn't have used the Tesseract to try to rule the world; the world wouldn't have been in need for the Avengers; Phil would have been still alive.

He showered and crawled into his bed. He never shut out the nightly glow of the city. It reminded him that he wasn't alone. It helped him fall asleep, but once he was alseep, the nightmares would come. Every night it was different, yet similar. Sometimes he saw his old friends dying, sometimes he was attacked by things he could never remember... or it was the Chitauri again. Sometimes his friends just fell down somewhere and he couldn't move – being immobile happened often, actually. The dreams were often about Bucky dying again, and sometimes the Avengers, or Fury, or Tony, all grossly malformed, were attacking him.

He would awake, surrounded by darkness, sweating, panting. He wouldn't go back to sleep then. After a hot shower – he never showered cold – he would make hot coffee and probably sketch. Or he would sit there in the dark and stare out of the window.

It was the same, this night. He woke up abruptly. It was three-seventeen, he had fallen asleep at about half past ten. Nearly five hours of sleep – it was probably the longest time he had ever slept withought waking up this century. It wore out, sure.

But ever since he got out of SHIELD intensive care where they would give him strong medicaments to give him his sleep, he never slept longer. He couldn't.

Steve stepped into the shower. All the time he had been in the 21st century, he felt more and more sleep-deprieved. How long was it now? Four months, five, six? Or was it just two? He didn't know. Time suddenly didn't matter anymore, since every day was the same.

He dried himself and let the towel drop. The room was warm, foggy, but it was somehow so far away. This world was kept behind a transparent curtain, leaving him alone in his shell. It was not only the technology, not only how people nowadays were, not only that his friends were dead... it was everything. Everything was wrong.

Steve stretched his arm and swiped over the mirror to see his reflection. His hair was a mess, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

He started looking through the files that had been in the envelope Fury had given him the day he had moved into the apartment. His friends, back then... and then this stamp. "DECEASED". "DECEASED". Color red, like blood.

Peggy's file was last. Its stamp was different, though. "RETIRED". Along with her current address.

She is alive!, Steve thought bitterly. She is alive, seventy years older, probably married.

He glanced over to the phone. He was Captain America, he was a hero (he had just watched the forties' video material about him) – couldn't he just phone people, old friends... people he was in love with? Was he in love with her? Still? Was she still in love with him? Probably not. Not after seventy years, right?

She wasn't. She couldn't be. So he wasn't going to phone her. She was leading her own life, and he... well, he would try to save whatever was left of his.

That was what always went through his head when he looked through the files. And he did that quite often. A reminder, yes. A painful one, true. But sometimes it was all that kept him sane: looking at the faces of his friends and missing them.

*~This is the edited version of the story. It contains minor changes but does not change the general happenings.~*

A bit more of Fury-niceness here :)