They all looked at me differently now, but I didn't blame them for that. I was a widow and widows got a wide and cautious birth, even when they don't blow their brains out after their husband's death. That little episode didn't make it past the room it happened in, and none of them asked me who Morte was, two things that I was extremely thankful for. The only one who wasn't walking on eggshells with me was Chester. He understood needing to keep busy, that any moment of pause could lead to a downward spiral there was no coming back from. He knew what I needed.

"How's the claw healing?" Chester asked as he eyed me from across his desk.

I held my fist up and let my claws pierce through the skin, showing the fully healed bone. "You know, I've never broken one of them before," I mused. "I half expected it not to grow back."

He gave me a pointed look. "I've seen you grow entire limbs back, Eleanor," he reminded me. "It'd be stupid if that didn't grow back."

I scoffed out a laugh and let my arm drop back to my lap. "My genetics never claimed to be smart. Why am I here, Chester?"

Chester watched me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "We need to discuss the future of the Howling Commandos and your place with them."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm discharging you."

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"Technically you've outranked everyone on the team since the beginning, but you also aren't technically enlisted in the Army either, you're SSR," he explained. "And since we can't have an Agent running a team of Commandos I'm discharging you and re-enlisting you. Welcome to the U.S. Army, Lieutenant Colonel Rogers."

"L-lieutenant Colonel?" I stuttered out. "How-how is that-"

"By the end of the last war you were a Major," Chester interrupted. "With several metals, if I remember correctly. You've been at this war since it's beginning, seems only fair that you get a promotion."

"I don't-"

"It wasn't a question. You are officially the CO of the Howling Commandos whether you like it or not."

Johann Schmidt was dead and Hydra fell with him. I wasn't naive enough to think that they were gone completely or for good, but they were wounded and it would take time for them to recover. And time was something I had in abundance. The one person I couldn't wait for was Klaus. An end to the war was fast approaching and I knew we didn't have much time left.

"You need a new suit."

Startled I smacked my knee on the table and sent my coffee cup rolling. "Fuck, Howard," I cursed, uprighting my the cup and shuffling the papers away from the spill.

Howard appeared by my side with a shop rag, throwing it over the coffee. "Sorry, El, thought you heard me come in," he apologized, helping me gather up the other papers.

"Why are you here?"

"Like I said, you need a new suit," he answered.

"Why the fuck do I need a new suit?" I demanded. "Nothing's wrong with the one I have now."

"It's not made of leadership material."

A frustrated growl left me as I resisted the urge to hit him. "Now is not a good time to be making jokes, Howard," I told him. "Give me a good fucking reason and I'll consider it."

He let out a sigh of his own. "I was serious, El. Your suit is fine but it doesn't make a statement like Ste- like Captain America's," he caught himself. "If you're going to lead the Howlers through the end of this war you're going to need-"

"No," I interrupted with a glare. "The Captain America suit wasn't military appropriate and you know it. It made him a fucking walking target."

"I thought that was the point?"

"Not for the covert missions we'll be going on," I argued. "Howard, Captain America was a PR stunt-"

"Captain America was a symbol," he interrupted this time. "He needed to be bright and loud, and recognizable. He needed to be a target."

A spike of anger ran through me and I turned towards him. "I am not replacing Captain America. I am not becoming the new symbol. I am not-"

"I'm not asking you to!" he snapped as he stepped closer, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders. "Jesus, El, is that what you think we're doing? Replacing Steve?"

I let out a harsh breath and shook my head. "We're not talking about this."

"That's fine, El," he soothed, dropping the pitch of his voice. "We don't have to talk about it, I won't make you do that, but you have to know that none of us are trying to or will ever replace Steve. Okay?"

My eyes watered and I forced myself to look away. "Okay,"

Howard nodded and dropped his hands back down. "I know that you don't like bright and recognizable," he continued, "but I also know that you like making statements. Because you're dramatic."

I couldn't help the huff of laughter that left me at that. "I'm not that dramatic."

He gave me a pointed look. "El."

"Fine."

His smile widened slightly. "So with that in mind, I've made a few sketches."

Majdanek was discovered by the Red Army in July of 1944. The horrors found there set a new edge to the war, and those who were unfortunate enough to see them first hand would be haunted by it for the rest of their lives. News of the inhumanity traveled like wildfire through the military but it took us nearly a full year to catch wind of another one, this time the Red Army giving us a heads up before they took Auschwitz.

It was a rare thing during a war to feel completely justified in a death. More often than not it comes down to killing someone just so they don't kill you first. There's no malicious hatred to it, no vendetta or revenge to spur you on. It's pure human survival and with that comes guilt, but this was different. With the smell of burnt flesh in the air mixed with the screams of the prisoners, I had never felt so justified in my life.

It took little over an hour to gain complete control of the camp, the Nazis either going down fighting or surrendering when encountered. The prisoners who were able took offered weapons and assisted in containing the guards, none of us questioning it when a shot went off.

Broken glass and bullet casings crunched under my boots as I made my way across the yard, my attention locked on the last untouched building. According to the prisoners it was the doctor's office and barracks, a monster by all rights, but he was also 'a man of many curiosities'. The familiar scent of sterile metal greeted me as I forced open the front door, surprised to find the inside nearly untouched. Much like the Hydra basements the smell of antiseptic and fear leached from the walls, getting stronger and stronger the further I got down the hallway. Following my nose I headed down the other hall, this one only having one doorway, light spearing out through the crack. With each step, a spike of fresh fear joined the old.

Someone was in that room and they were very afraid.

Taking care to make my footsteps a little quieter as I neared the door, reaching out slowly to flatten my hand against the wood and press it open. "Hallo? (hello?)" I asked. "Ich bin ein US-Offizier. Ich bin hier, um dir zu helfen (I am a U.S. Officer. I am here to help you)," I continued, slating myself through the doorway and peering into the room. A flash of metal caught my eye before I was thrown back into the door jam, a searing pain shooting from my shoulder. Looking down I saw a rather impressive butcher's knife embedded in the muscle there.

"Bleib zurück! (stay back)!"

My attention snapped up to the far corner of the room, spotting the huddled young boy and then the pane of glass beside him. Continuing past the glass I took in the room behind it, my stomach rolling with each medical tool, contraption, and torture device I came across, all sat within what appeared to be a sterile operating room.

"Oh, that sick fucker," I mused, absently pulling the knife from my shoulder and dropping it to the floor. "Liebling, hat er dich verletzt? (darling, did he hurt you)?" I asked as I looked back to the cowering boy. "Hat der Arzt dich verletzt? (did the doctor hurt you)?"

Wide grey eyes stared up at me with shock while the smell of fear slowly turned to one of confusion. "Wer bist du? (who are you)?" he asked, those eyes darting from the knife of the floor to my shoulder. "Warum bluten Sie nicht? (why do you not bleed)?"

"Wenn Schmidt ein Interesse an dir hat, dann sind wir gleich (if Schmidt has an interest in you then, we are the same)," I told him. "Du bist anders, oder? (you are different, right)?"

He gave a small nod.

"Deshalb hat er dich genommen. Weil du anders bist (that's why he took you. Because you are different)."

He nodded again.

"Ich bin auch anders (I am different too)," I offered, gesturing to my healed shoulder. "In mehr als einer Hinsicht (In more ways than one)."

"Did he take you too? (did he take you too)?" he asked with a shaky voice, glancing over his shoulder towards the medical room.

My stomach twisted at the implications. "Ja, aber nicht so, wie er dich nahm (yes, but not as he took you)," I answered. "Es tut mir so leid, dass ich nicht früher gekommen bin. Um dich vor ihm zu retten (I am so sorry I did not come earlier. To save you from him)."

Tears welled in his eyes and he began to shake harder. "Ich hätte ihn töten sollen (I should have killed him)," he struggled out.

"No," I said, taking a step closer to him. "Nein, das ist nicht deine Verantwortung (no, that's not your responsibility)."

He shook his head harder, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Ich konnte nicht - ich konnte nicht - was er von mir wollte (I could not-I could not-what he wanted from me)," he sobbed out, his hands coming up to knot in his hair. "Meine Mutter! Meine Mutter! (my mother! My mother)!"

I took another step towards him, hands raised in surrender with comforting words on my tongue when a flash of metal once again caught my attention. Looking back to the operating room I watched in awe as every piece of equipment either contorted or flew around the room. "Holy shit," I breathed.

His sobs had become a gut wrenching keening, the fingers in his hair knotting tightly as he struggled to keep himself from falling apart completely.

Knowing this could quickly get worse I stepped closer and lowered myself to my knees before him, my hands palm up in my lap. "Liebling, ich brauche dich, um für mich zu atmen (darling, I need you to breathe for me)," I said, attempting to make my voice as soothing as possible. "Du wirst in Ohnmacht fallen, wenn du so weitermachst (you'll faint if you keep this up)."

He struggled to do just that, his small frame seeming to shake harder with the effort. "Das ist, was er wollte! (this is what he wanted)!" he exclaimed. "Warum ist es jetzt so einfach? Warum?! (why is it so easy now?! Why?!)"

My heart broke as I watched him fall apart and I knew what I needed to do. Tugging the glove from my right hand I reached out and brushed my fingers across the back of his hand. The usual overwhelming wave of pain and fear came over me, but I managed to push it down. "Alles, was Sie tun müssen, ist zu atmen (all you have to do is breathe)," I told him, remembering back to all those nights I had told Steve the same thing.

With the plaguing emotions now muted he was able to pull in a steadying breath, his bloodshot eyes continuing to well with tears but they were no longer tranche. "Wer bist du? (who are you)?" he whispered out.

"Mein Name ist Eleanor Rogers (my name is Eleanor Rogers)," I told him as I shifted a little closer, my other hand coming up to brush some of his hair away from his face. "Wie heißen Sie? (what is your name?)"

"Erik. Erik Lehnsherr," he answered, blinking away tears as he looked me over. "Er hat über dich gesprochen. (he talked about you)."

The knot in my stomach twisted. "Was hat er dir gesagt? (what did he tell you?)"

"Dass du ein Tier bist, aber er liegt falsch (that you are an animal, but he is wrong)," he answered with a sniff. "Er ist das Tier (he is the animal)."

I pulled in a steadying breath and gave him a small nod. "Ja, ist er (yes he is)," I agreed. "Komm schon, Liebling, lass uns dich hier rausbringen (come on, darling, let's get you out of here)."

Erik hesitated for a tense moment before accepting my offer, unfolding himself from the corner and into my arms.

There comes a point in everyone's life when they're forced to stop and look life in the face. Whether that happens by their own volition or by coercion of a friend, the outcome was usually the same. A mental breakdown or denial.

It was a little after two in the morning when I made it out of debriefing, opting to get it out of the way instead of waiting until morning like the fellas. The last month had been a blur of Intel and missions, none of us stopped long enough to notice how hard we'd been pushing it. This was the first time we'd been back to HQ since Auschwitz and I was already getting antsy.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come back."

I resisted the urge to groan at the sound of Howard's voice. "I'm tired, Howie, can we do this tomorrow?" I asked, turning to face the genius as he walked up behind me.

"Nope," he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked me over. "How'd the suit do?"

Howard had designed a total of 15 new uniforms and I had only liked one of them. It had been the last one he showed me, reluctantly so, but I had instantly fallen in love with it. Made entirely out of black fabric and leather it was the perfect combination of both Buck's and Steve's uniform. The front fastened like Buck's jacket had, a blacked out star nestled between the buttons on the chest. Vertical stripes ran around the torso under my bust like Steve's had, the American flag design still recognizable despite the black. The gloves were Steve's and the boots were Buck's, and while I refused to replace anyone it was still nice having them with me.

I gave him a soft smile. "It did beautifully," I told him. "No one called me Captain America but they also didn't question my authority. I think the black scares them."

"I'm pretty sure you're the one scaring them, not the suit," he corrected. "But it's working? Nothing to adjust?"

I shook my head as I fiddled with one of the buttons. "No. No, everything's perfect. Thank you again, Howie."

He waved me off and shifted his stance. "Happy to do it, El."

I cocked an eyebrow as I watched his shift stances again, a nervous quality twinging the air. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

Howard shifted once again as he cleared his throat. "I, uh, I deciphered part of Dr. Erskine's notes."

Anything positive I felt towards this conversation went straight out the door and I felt my hackles raise. "What?" I growled.

"No, hold on," he said, holding his hands up in defense. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?"

"It's about Steve."

Now it was my turn to step back from him. "What?"

"I'm sorry, El, but I had to check," he apologized. "The math worked out but it didn't make sense, so I had to check."

I pulled in a deep breath and looked away from him, scanning the room to make sure we were the only ones there. "Howie, please."

Howard had paled several shades and looked close to throwing up. "It's possible that Steve survived the crash."

"Explain," I demanded, surprised by how steady my voice was.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "We know that Steve put the Valkyrie down in the Arctic, either in the water or in an ice field, but unless he was seriously injured it wouldn't kill him. Suspended animation. You know what that is, right?"

I thought for a moment before nodding. "That's how bees survive winter, right?"

"Yes! Yes, they freeze and then thaw out completely fine. I-I don't know if that's what will happen to Steve but it's 100% possible," he rambled, starting to sound a little frantic. "El, he can hibernate too. Did you know that? His metabolism can slow down near to nothing. I don't know how Erskine did it but there isn't much that can kill Steve. He's-he's almost as resilient as you are."

I hadn't realized that I was shaking till Howard took hold of my hands.

"El, I've already got a crew looking for him," he told me. "They're not going to stop till we find him."

I shook my head. "I-I have to-"

"You have to finish the war," he interrupted with a firm voice. "You can't take off now, but I promise, El, I'll take care of everything till you can, okay? Both Steve and Bucky would want you to see it through the end. You owe it to them, to the Commandos."

Tears burned in my eyes as I thought of the implications of his discovery, the thought of Steve being out there overshadowing everything else in my life. "I don't know if I can do this," I admitted, my voice wavering. "With Jimmy and Vic still gone, and Klaus in the wind, I don't think I can do this. I don't know if I want to."

"I know, El, I know," he soothed, abandoning my hands and pulling me into a hug.

I wound my arms around him and did my best not to squeeze too tight. "It's getting harder to move, Howie," I told him. "Everyday the weight gets heavier and heavier. I-I don't know if I can keep doing this."

"It'll keep getting worse if you don't stop and let it catch up to you," he mused, pressing a kiss to my temple as he rocked us back forth. "You need to sit still for a little while and let us help you with it. You don't have to go at this alone."

I shook my head the best I could. "I have to be strong, Howie. Steve's gone and I have to be strong."

"You don't have to be strong for me, El," he reassured. "Let me do that for you, okay? Let me take some of the weight."

For the first time since the plane went down, I let myself truly be still. With Howard supporting me I let it all catch up.

April 12th, 1945: President Franklin D. Roosevelt dies of a cerebral hemorrhage in Warm Springs, Georgia.

April 28th, 1945: Italian insurgents capture Mussolini, murder him, and mutilate his body.

May 1st, 1945: Adolf Hitler commits suicide in Berlin.

May 5th, 1945: The German army signs an unconditional surrender.

July 26th, 1945: Allied leaders meet in Potsdam, Germany to send an ultimatum to Japan. Japanese military leaders ruling the government issue no surrender.

August 6th, 1945: The United States drops an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, killing 75,000 people instantly, and injured more than 100,000.

August 8th, 1945: With still no surrender from Japan, the Soviet Union enters the Pacific war as promised in Yalta, defeating Japanese forces in Manchuria.

August 9th, 1945: A second atomic bomb is dropped on Nagasaki.

August 10th, 1945: Tokyo asks for peace on the condition that Emperor Hirohito will retain his throne. The Allies accept.

September 2nd, 1945: A formal surrender ceremony is conducted in Tokyo Bay on the U.S. battleship Missouri. World War 2 officially ends.

September 3rd, 1945: Captain Steven Grant Rogers remains M.I.A.

"You're packing already?"

The roar of celebration from the hotel lobby had drowned out all other noises, making it disturbingly easy for Timothy to sneak up on me. His sudden appearance in the doorway had me jumping, the stack of books in my hands tumbling to the floor. "Jesus, Dum Dum," I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest.

His mustache twitched into a reluctant smile as he made his way into the room. "You must really be out of it if I can startle ya," he mused, crouching down to gather up the dropped books, glancing at the titles as he stacked them. "Everything okay, darlin'?"

"I'm leaving with Howard today."

He paused and looked up at me. "Yeah?" he asked. "Where ya goin'?"

I swallowed hard and glanced away. "To look for Steve."

Timothy watched me for a short moment before nodding. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"As long as it takes."

He nodded again and pushed himself to his feet. "When ya leaving?"

"0100," I answered, giving him a small smile as I took the books from him. "I was gonna come find ya fellas when I was done packing," I explained, turning back to my duffel bag and shoving the books inside. "Have a few drinks. Say goodbye."

"You'll keep in touch, right?" he asked, one of his ridiculously big hands resting on my shoulder. "You won't just disappear?"

It was my turn to pause. "Why would you think that?"

Timothy let out a long sigh, a painted look on his face. "Darlin', it's been almost a year since we've heard anything from your brothers," he reminded me. "And-and I know that you guys do that, take off when things get complicated, but please don't. Not this time. We've been through too much shit for us to just scatter."

I abandoned my duffle bag and turned to him, my arms shot up to wrap around his neck as I pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Timmy," I said. "I'm not going to disappear. I promise."

He hugged me back with a tightness that surprised me. "Us Howlies gotta stay together, darlin'," he told me. "Especially now."

I nodded against his shoulder. "I know, but this is something I need to do."

"I'm not saying 'don't go', I'm saying 'come back'," he reassured, running a hand up and down my back. "And we're going to be here when you do. Hopefully with that numbskull Rogers in tow."

"You and the fellas can read him the riot act when I do."

"We're gonna do more than that," he grumbled. "He's gonna learn to fly a plane and he's gonna take some geography lessons."

A snort of laughter left me. "Jesus, Dum Dum."

Timothy chuckled and tightened his arms around my waist, lifting me off my feet. "We love ya, darlin'."

"I love you guys too," I said before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Let me finish packing and I'll meet you guys for those drinks, okay?"

Timothy set me back to my feet and took a step back, scanning the room with a cocked eyebrow. "You know, if I help ya we could get to those drinks a hellofa lot sooner."

Unable to deny his logic we started packing up the room together, Timothy strategically handling Steve's things so I wouldn't have to, the poor man blushing an alarming shade of red when he stumbled across a sketchbook full of nudes. That had set a rather light note to the rest of the packing, a note that carried us through to the pub where the Howler's greeted us with cheers. We toasted to everyone there and everyone who wasn't, told stories of the lighter times and reminisced about the darker, and by the end of the night, I felt a little bit better about leaving. Howard showed up after a few rounds to see where I had ended up, joining us for a few rounds before insisting at 0500 that we needed to leave or we'd miss the ship. Goodbyes were tearful and promises of keeping in contact were made, all of us wholeheartedly intending to do just that.

"I had your things moved like I promised," he said as we made our way down the street towards the docks. "Are you sure you want to bring everything with you?"

I nodded with a smile. "He'll want his things when we find him."

The smile Howard gave me broke my heart a little. "You're awfully optimistic, El, it's kind of disturbing."

"If I'm not optimistic then what's the point?" I countered. "I can't go into this thinking we're not going to find him. I can't. I'll sabotage the whole thing if I do."

He nodded in understand and threw an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side. "You're right. He'll want his things when we find him. Hell, we know he won't fit in my clothes."

My laughter mixed with those of the revelers.

First off, I want to give a big thank you to Christmas 95 for helping me out with editing and brainstorming on this chapter. Much to my enormous pleasure and gratitude she'll be continuing to help me out, so head her way and check out her stuff. She's an amazing writer and a great friend so give her a shout out.

Secondly, this is the closing chapter of the Captain America part of this story. For those of you who followed me from the old story you already know that Forever Vigilant will make it's way through the other Marvel movies and various TV shows.

Next up is X-Men: First Class!

I'm not sure when I'll get the first chapter of that part up but it will be continued on this thread, so don't worry about missing anything. If you're following this story then you'll get the update when it goes up.

Thank you to y'all for putting up with my sporadic updates and for sticking with me through the dry spells. I hope this chapter can hold you over till I can give you more.

-Alya Kihaku

P.S. I still hate the line break glitch on this format -_-