I ran into the room and made a beeline for the microphone. One of my brother's friends stood behind the chair, the general next to him. Peggy was in the seat, talking to my brother. I could hear him talking to Peggy and I through the radio system. He sounded strong, like he always was, but he was afraid. "There's not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down."

"I'll-I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do," Peggy stammered, frightened. Not much frightened her, and that this did scared me.

My brother answered back instantly. "There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York." There was a pause of about five seconds as he steeled himself to speak again. "I gotta put her in the water."

"No!" I murmured, realization dawning on me. "Steve, please don't do this. W-we have time. We can work it out." I was in tears. In the last few months, I had lost everything. I couldn't lose him too.

"Katie, right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Katie," his voice cracked. "This is my choice." I turned away, my hand pressed against my lips as an icy fear gripped my heart. "I love you, Katie," he said.

"I love you too," I whispered, loud enough that he could hear me.

"Peggy..." Steve said.

Peggy leaned forward in her chair, as if she would be closer to him in doing so. "I'm here."

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance," he said. I choked and pressed my hand over my mouth, tears beginning to fall down my face. Peggy was silent for almost ten seconds as she composed herself enough to speak.

She slumped forward, despair in her eyes, "All right. A week next Saturday at The Stork Club."

The Stork club. It had been destroyed months before. I closed my eyes. Steve's breathing sped up. "You've got it."

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?" Peggy asked gently. I could see the fear and love in her eyes, and I understood. She was in love with my brother, just as he was in love with her. She was crying, and he responded a few seconds later.

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," he said. I clenched my jaw, fighting back a sob. I was supposed to teach him how to dance. We never got the chance, but I was supposed to teach him for Peggy.

"I'll show you how," She said softly, a pleading note in her voice, "Just be there."

There was a break again, and I stood frozen as I waited for him to respond. "We'll have the band play something slow," Steve said, and I moved forward to tell him I loved him one last time, to thank him for taking care of me, for being my rock. "I'd hate to step on your—"

His voice cut off, giving way to static. I froze. My heart stopped as I stared in shock at the microphone my hand was inches from touching. H-he can't be gone. He can't, he—

"Steve?" Peggy said, her voice catching. She tried to say his name again, but nothing came out. " Steve?" she choked.

I felt my heart begin beating again. "Steve!" she cried.

I was in too much shock to cry his name; I couldn't move. My brother—he couldn't be gone. It's impossible. He promised. He promised he wouldn't leave me.

Peggy began sobbing silently, and I turned and ran, not sure where I was going.

I stared up at the ceiling, the memory of that awful day playing in my mind. Cool tears fell down my face; my restrained hands could not wipe them away. The only light came from the glowing blue computer screens and from the shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window.

I walked around in a haze, not sure exactly where I was going. I ran into people several times, not paying any attention as to where I went. I passed groups of men laughing, small groups of women talking quietly about their husbands or loves.

I felt numb. I had no one to talk about. My parents are dead. The man I love is dead. My brother is dead. I have no one. No one is left.

I could feel my emotions building up behind the façade I held, and I sped up. Now I remember. The door. I have to get outside. I have to see the sky.

"Katie!"

I ignored the one pursuing me and began running. The footsteps behind me sped up, so I did as well. My legs ached, my lungs burned, sweat poured down my face, blurring my sight. The pain felt good; and rage fueled my flight till I reached the doors.

It wasn't until later I realized that it was grief, not rage, that spurred me on.

I shoved the door open and stood in the icy air, letting its cool fingers turn my sweat and tears to ice. I heard more voices behind me, and I began sprinting again, not knowing where I was going. What did it matter? I was alone. There was no one left to help me; no one left to care. So I ran.

I didn't know how long I'd been down there; it could've been a week; maybe more, maybe less. No one came to visit me, and I hadn't had anything to eat or drink in a long time. I had an IV drip, though. I hadn't had to go to the restroom, either. It's unnatural, like what happened to me before. Like I am. I'm not natural: I was almost a hundred years old, but I hadn't aged a day in over seventy years.

My wings were pinned down just like the rest of my limbs, my normally white feathers now limp and dirty. I hadn't felt the wind in forever—that was the worst. When Steve crashed, the thing that kept me sane was the sky. Seeing it—knowing that it was there. I had been on a mountain, closer to the sky than, at the time, I had ever been.

But now that I had wings… the sky was a part of me. It's a part of who I am. So being away from it for so long, well… it was almost worse torture than the pain of receiving my wings was.

I stared up blankly at the ceiling as the door slid open. I didn't want to see anyone, and I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I hated being weak, so being strapped down, helpless, was humiliating and terrifying. I closed my eyes as the intruder dragged a chair over to my table to sit down next to me. I shivered a bit—partly from cold, partly from fear.

"Your cuts are healing up pretty well," Bruce said, "But they're pretty deep still, so you shouldn't do anything to overexert yourself till they heal."

I didn't move. Is this some kind of joke?

"Your wing," he said, lightly running his hand over the primary feathers of my left wing, "was broken when the lightning hit. I'm not completely sure how; maybe a brick or piece of shrapnel hit it… do you know?"

I didn't answer. Not out of spite—my voice gave out days ago from screaming. Though if I could speak, I don't know if I'd want to.

"Katie," Bruce lowered his voice as if sharing a secret, placing his head next to mine. I could feel his breath on my skin. "Stark contacted S.H.I.E.L.D."

My eyes snapped open, and I strained against my bonds, my heart racing like a bird's.

"Hey—hey, calm down," he said quietly, placing his hand on my shoulder and looking around nervously. "He didn't get through to Fury. He's busy with some new recruits; he said something about a plane crash. No one was hurt, but he still needed to check it out." He stopped for a moment to let me take it all in. "The point is that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know about you yet."

Yet.

"Here's the tricky part," he said, "Now, Stark wants you locked up till S.H.I.E.L.D. can answer her call, but Thor and Steve helped me to convince him to loosen the reins a bit. However…" he trailed off as if unsure how to continue. I raised my eyebrows at him. "You'd have to wear these," he said, reaching under the table and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. They weren't normal; a blue light hung about them, making the lines on Bruce's face stand out in sharp contrast against his otherwise smooth skin.

I recoiled, trying to get as far away from the cursed weapon as I could. Not that I could go anywhere. "No," I breathed, my throat burning. H.Y.D.R.A. had made these. I would know them anywhere. I managed to breathe out the name of the organization, the sound a raspy croak.

"H.Y.D.R.A.?" Bruce repeated, looking down at them, frowning.

"Tesseract—" I gasped.

He looked down at the cuffs, the look in his eyes displaying his disgust for them.

"You don't have to wear them," he said, looking angry at himself for suggesting it. I didn't move. I needed to be free. I think he knew that, too, because after a few seconds he spoke up. "Will you... will you wear them if I have the key?"

I nodded, and he slowly undid the leather tie on my wrist, snapping the cuffs on snuggly before doing the same with my right hand. I moved to sit up as he undid the restraints on the rest of my body. Once I was free, he helped me off the table, but as soon as my feet touched the floor, my knees buckled, and he stood supporting me as I struggled to find my footing.

"You're covered in blood," he stated softly. He brought me to a bathroom attached to the lab. He undid the cuffs, telling me that he'd put them back on after I showered.

"There's a shower in here; there are towels, and a fresh change of clothes for you," he said. "You okay?"

I nodded and slowly made my way into the bathroom. After locking the door and peeling the blood-stiff clothes from my body, I maneuvered my way into the shower, turning it on hot and lying down on my side on the tile. As I lay there, eyes closed, I remembered my fiance and how he would take me to our special hill, where we would lie beside each other and look up at the stars. As the warm water washed over me, washing away the stains of death, I remembered how he held me in his arms, how he promised never to let me go. I could almost feel his arms around me, holding me close to his chest. I could hear his voice.

His voice, fading away as he fell away from me. I remember how he fell—I was there, I couldn't do anything, I—

I made a strangled, choking, gasping noise as tears began falling down my face to the bottom of the tub. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could have done, but I blamed myself for his death every day.