After the thirtieth lead that turned out to be nothing, Steve began to fully appreciate how Jilí must have felt all those fruitless years of searching for Alice.

After turning down Fury's offer to go to Europe, Natasha had given Steve a file with a picture of Bucky's frozen face inside it, and warned him not to pull on the thread. As if she thought he'd do anything else. She'd then kissed him on the cheek and said You know, I get it. Not being able to move on. It's okay. And he'd known she wasn't just talking about Bucky.

So Steve and Sam began their search for Bucky with a decades old Soviet file. They learned bits and pieces about the Winter Soldier Program as the weeks turned into months, but they couldn't find a trace of Bucky himself.

Despite Sam's reassurance and good humor, Steve couldn't help but blame himself. When Alice had gone missing, he'd gone down in the Valkyrie before the search really began. And now he had a real chance at finding Bucky, a fresh trail, and he was still useless. He wondered if he was cursed to lose everyone he loved to nothingness.

As the search stretched on, Steve mostly avoided the public eye (Natasha had warned him to lie low after her testimony following the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.). But one welcome part of the chaos was that the Avengers had found their way back together. It became clear that HYDRA had not all been wiped out with the fall of the Triskelion; pockets of HYDRA agents and commanders had survived across the globe, and began causing their own unique brand of trouble.

It was good to be back with Tony, Thor, Bruce, and Clint, and once Natasha came back from her sabbatical it felt as if everything had come together. They seemed to work better as a team each time they came together, and in their off hours in Stark Tower Steve got to know them better as people. Bruce was an excellent cook. Clint spent half the time snoozing on the couch, and they all had a great time teaching Thor about Midgardian customs. Thor had returned to Earth after a debacle involving his brother, Dr Jane Foster, and something called the Aether, which Thor didn't seem completely able to describe.

Sam bowed out of most Avengers missions, saying he was perfectly happy to stick to the 'missing person investigation', but he got on well with everyone else (even though he seemed a little bewildered by Thor).

Sam and Natasha had silently agreed to keep Alice a secret, as Steve had known they would. They didn't even talk about Bucky with others unless Steve brought it up first. It wasn't that he wanted to keep Alice a secret from his other teammates, but he just didn't know how to bring it up. After the Triskelion it had just slipped out, but most of the time he spent with the Avengers was on mission, or vegging out at Stark Tower. So a mixture of awkwardness and not wanting to rock the boat kept him silent.

Dear Steve,

… I realize I have more friends than I thought I did - either people I met through Jilí or just people I ended up chatting to while trying to escape my uncle and his gilded cages. The Anschluss has brought us together - some are still rightfully distrustful of me, but mostly there's a good group of us working to keep people safe.

Yours,
Alice

Mid 2014

The asset had learned his own name: Bucky Barnes. The name felt strange, like wearing a uniform musty with age, but he didn't have anything better to call himself. He wasn't an asset any longer.

In amongst learning about himself and his past, he kept coming up against a problem. The facts were wrong. Whenever he read the stories about his past life, most of it called to old memories and helped him remember, but there was something missing. Someone.

He'd felt it when he went to the museum a few days after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell - after reading the memorial for himself he had turned, searching for a sign or a room that just wasn't there.

But after months of blankness and searching for the missing piece, he'd finally put it together. A snatch of a memory had returned in the midst of a migraine: a young girl with pale hair sitting on a stone step on a winter day, surrounded by five jeering boys. The girl's chin jutted out and her hands had curled into fists in her lap. Bucky followed the memory, wincing at the memory of being punched in the face and the skinny blonde boy - Steve - being shoved into a puddle. And finally he recalled a name: Moser.

He finally had enough to research her, and when he did it all came rushing back. Alice. Reading comic books in the back room of her stepfather's tailor shop, tossing rocks in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, her tearstained face at her parents' funeral, the furtive glances she and Steve used to shoot at each other. The way she'd looked, sweaty and soot-stained after a battle.

The world seemed to know her secrets these days, save for two important things: how she had died, and who she had known. Because Bucky remembered her arms around him, her gleeful smile as she said Steve and I got married. He'd called after her: What? And she'd just blown him a kiss.

Bucky doubted the memory for a long time. But more and more memories came back - Alice as a girl with watchful eyes and a wicked mind, as a bodiless voice on the radio, and as a woman with steel beneath her skin. Her place in his memories was undeniable. And yet she was missing from every story anyone told about him.

He recalled that she'd been shrouded in secrecy even when he knew her. Maybe the truth had never come out.

Dear Steve,

Seems like only yesterday I was twelve years old, staring up at Brooklyn Junior High and terrified I wouldn't make any friends.

Though he didn't appear much in public these days, Steve did get back in touch with the young academic Amaya who'd asked him about life in the 30s and 40s for her thesis on Alice. She'd since published the thesis - Steve had read it, and it was about as complimentary as you could get in an academic paper. He'd written to congratulate her, they'd exchanged a few emails, and when he went back to D.C. to clear out his apartment they'd caught up for another coffee.

Amaya had a fine filigree silver ring on her ring finger when she showed up, and when he congratulated her she went bright red.

"Yes, thank you! My girlfriend, ah - how are we, on the gay thing?" she enquired, her head cocked. "I don't want to shock any 1940s sensibilities, even though you and I both know that Brooklyn wasn't exactly the deep south."

Steve couldn't help but smile. "We're all good on the gay thing. Congratulations, Amaya."

Once they had their coffee and were seated, Amaya burst out with: "I'm already working on another paper." She was marginally less nervous this time. She hadn't brought up the whole bringing-down-S.H.I.E.L.D. thing, which he thought was very generous of her. "My thesis focused on the Siren's role in the Propaganda Department - bureaucratic and political connections, that sort of thing. But I'd like to branch out more, maybe look closer at her music, or at her specific missions with the SSR."

Steve smiled. "Have you ever thought about writing a book?"

"Oh, absolutely," she nodded. Her knee bounced under the table. "I have to get more established, though. But I can definitely see myself writing a book about her, and maybe a few other female spies. Historical girl crush, you know?"

"I know," Steve said, then hid his face by sipping his coffee.

"And I thought, you know, if you're willing-"

"You'd like to ask more questions?" He preempted.

"Yes, if that's okay? Your stuff about the atmosphere in occupied Germany was really great, and your experience performing on the front with the USO? Priceless." Her eyes gleamed. "It would be mostly email, but if you were in town and available then some recorded sessions would be great. If you're able, I mean-"

"I haven't been indicted yet," Steve said with a hint of a smile. "So that should be fine. I've got some other… projects going on, so I'm not often free, but I'd love to help out where I can."

"Thank you," Amaya breathed. "You really have been so helpful. May I ask… why?" The tips of her ears burned. "Because I've asked around, and while you've responded to other historians you haven't really given them as much time as you have me."

Steve finished his coffee, thinking. "I guess I'm just a fan of history being told right."

So in between fighting with the Avengers and searching all over the world for Bucky, Steve occasionally helped Amaya with her research. There were other scholars who wrote about Alice, of course, but he'd come to trust Amaya. He'd liked the way she wrote about Alice: respectful, thoughtful - not worshipful, but as if she were a real human being. Seeing Alice treated as an interesting historical phenomenon made Steve uncomfortable.

And once the academic world began to realise that Amaya was putting out work referencing none other than Steve Rogers, she began to get the recognition she'd been working for. She and Steve ended up with a long email chain, and met up a handful of times over the year. He even put her in touch with Jilí, who was more than happy to correspond with the eager young researcher.

But one afternoon in late 2014, as he and Amaya sat in a practically empty diner in downtown D.C., Steve slipped up.

Amaya was quizzing him about his time in Italy: the mood on the front and the missions the SSR had undertaken. Steve was just back from busting a HYDRA base with the Avengers in South America and had just downed a pot of tea, so he felt sleepy and relaxed. Perhaps that was why he slipped.

After hearing about the 107th Tactical Team's raid on the HYDRA occupied town in Tuscany, Amaya went off on a tangent talking to herself, as she often did.

"Okay, so…" she flicked through the pile of papers she seemed to carry around everywhere. "That was February of 1944, so I can definitely work that into this paper on the Siren's Italian performance tour. She probably assisted with the intelligence for that one, since from what I can tell, Italy is where she really started going after HYDRA. And then she would've been back in France the next month, I think-"

"No, she didn't leave Italy until April," Steve said through a yawn. it wasn't until he'd finished the yawn that he noticed Amaya had gone still.

"How'd you know that?" she asked, her fingers frozen on her papers and her brow slowly lowering as she peered at him.

Steve stalled. Wide eyed, he thought of something to say. Maybe I must've read it somewhere-

But it was too late. "Wait, you knew her," Amaya breathed. Her eyes went wide.

Steve floundered for a moment longer before he gave up. "I, yes. I did."

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, and their server's head jerked up from where she'd been nodding off behind the counter. "You've said some other things that made me wonder, and the fact that you even spoke to me in the first place… Wait, how did you know her?" But Amaya didn't leave him space to answer. "The SSR? No, of course, Brooklyn. That must have been the same sort of year period, you're about the same age, and…" she flipped back through her notes. "What school did you go to, again?"

The corner of Steve's mouth ticked up. "Brooklyn Junior and Senior High."

Amaya's mouth dropped open.

Steve went on: "Started freshman year in homeroom 3B, two rows across and seven seats up from Alice Moser."

Amaya slumped forward in her chair, her hands rising into her hair. "I am… an idiot."

"No you're not," Steve laughed. "It's not something we really spread around back in the day for - for obvious reasons. And it seems like every historian since then missed out on it too."

She blew out a long, overwhelmed breath. "You knew her." Her eyes seemed to glaze over. "What was she… what was she like?"

"Amazing," Steve said without hesitation. "Everything you've said that she is… you're right. Smart, brave, kind…" he looked away and shook his head. "She was my best friend - as well as Bucky - growing up, and…" he shied away from telling the whole truth, "one of our most important allies in the war."

Amaya straightened. "You worked directly with her?"

He nodded, almost smiling again. "Eventually, yeah. It's sort of a long story."

She bit her lip, glanced down at her papers as if lost, and then looked up again. "Is this something you'd be comfortable with me sharing?"

Steve shrugged. "Keeping it secret is just a habit at this point. It can't hurt anyone if it gets out now. I'm fine with it." And Bucky might see it, he didn't tell her.

"You realize this is going to be the biggest break of my career," Amaya told him seriously. "If you'd rather tell this to a more established historian, or hell, a journalist, I would completely understand-"

Steve shook his head. "If anyone can tell this in a way that gives Alice ownership of her own story, then it's you. There's a reason I reached out to you in the first place." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character." His head cocked. "Not as good as Alice, but still."

Amaya drew in a breath and leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "I cannot express to you how excited I am right now," she breathed. "Tell me everything."

January 2015

Amaya was right. With the revelation that Captain America had known - had been friends with - the Siren, she established herself overnight as one of the most groundbreaking historians in the academic and public consciousness.

After a few months of interviews and emails, Amaya published her academic paper concurrently with a couple of more publicly accessible newspaper articles. The one that ended up in the New York Times was titled 'A Voice on the Radio: The Forgotten Connection Between World War II's Most Famous Soldier and Most Infamous Spy'.

Steve was on a mission in India when the paper and articles were published, so he didn't experience the shockwave that rippled through the public. He'd already had a chance to read the articles though. He'd signed off on them wholeheartedly.

In his interviews with Amaya he had chronicled the history of his relationship with Alice, though he had somewhat undersold the exact nature of what their relationship had become. In the article he and Alice came off as friends, but mostly as allies - kind of like his relationship with Howard, or his tactical team.

Steve told a few stories from their childhood, which Amaya had weaved into her article alongside context for the time. He told her about the radio Alice fixed up, and how they used to send each other morse code after school. He told her about Alice's budding singing career (I was there for her first ever public performance in front of our small church gathering), the struggles her family had faced, the Rockefeller Christmas tree lightings, and the time they'd seen Louis Armstrong perform live at the Roseland Ballroom. Some of these were stories he had told her before (without telling her about Alice's part in them), and when he revealed the whole truth she looked like Christmas had come early.

He told Amaya how Ulysses had become something like a code word between them, based on the Joyce novel they'd read together in class, the president whose tactics Steve had read, the Roman name for Odysseus, and the butterfly. He told her how it had been a calling card and a reminder for the course of their relationship.

Amaya included quotes from him throughout the article. The one that affected him most reading it back was in the section about the Siren's apparent support of the Nazis. Steve's words read: "I became Captain America thinking that my friend had become a Nazi. I didn't tell the SSR about it, but it… definitely affected me. I felt like I needed to go over there and make things right."

Following that, the article described how they'd worked together in the war. The missions Alice had been a part of, both as Al or as herself, her connections with local resistance groups, and the battle against HYDRA she'd been a part of. Steve had elaborated on the documents that had been declassified in the '70s, pointing out where Alice had actually been in the field and met with his team.

After a few interview sessions, Amaya had brought up Alice's disappearance. They discussed the evidence available, and the work that had been done to look for her.

"What do you think happened?" Amaya asked, her voice gentle.

Steve had swallowed. "I don't know. I try not to think about it, a lot of the time, because I know… whatever it was, it was bad."

She had nodded, her eyes soft. "I'm sorry."

Steve came back from his mission to find the public (and especially the academic community) buzzing with interest. Not only was this a shocking historical fact laid bare, but it was also the most Steve had revealed about himself publicly since arriving in the future. Amaya was dealing with calls and emails left right and centre (when Steve called her she picked up the phone in a flood of overwhelmed tears), but soon got her head above water.

Steve ignored all other requests to interview. He'd said everything he was ready to say. And he wasn't ready to deal with more people (perhaps less understanding than Amaya) to ask him questions about Alice. Amaya had done it right.

Excerpt from article 'Shock revelation about Captain America and the Siren changes the shape of history', in The Washington Post, January 15 2015:

… the publication of the paper has, once again, forced historians and the public alike to change their understanding of the Siren's story. Both Alice Moser and Steve Rogers' legacies have been affected by this revelation, in ways which we may still be yet to understand.

… has led to a public spike of interest in the First Avenger, notably reclusive before this bombshell interview.

… the most poignant revelation, as many have pointed out, is this: the Siren vanished in 1945 and was despised by the world for almost thirty years, until she was revealed as a war hero and martyr in the 70s. But now, alongside her role as a spy, agent, rescuer, and hero, the public has now gotten to know Alice Moser as a friend. We have learned about her often-forgotten childhood days in Brooklyn, and about how when the time came for war, Alice Moser stepped up at the cost of her friendships, legacy, and life.

Steve's teammates either didn't notice the flurry of interest the articles had caused (Thor), made passing comments about it (Tony: "You saw Louis Armstrong live and you didn't tell me?"), or gave him a small smile and a knowing look (Natasha and Sam).

Once more the world's understanding of Alice shifted and resettled. And toward the end of January, after following up a lead in England with Sam, Steve travelled to Berlin for the first time in his life.

A local historical group in the city had set up a small event by the river Spree in Tiergarten, near the area where Alice had last performed. There was a table with cookies the group had baked, a collection of old photos and records, and a few film cameras covering the event. Steve showing up came as a surprise to everyone.

He showed up in jeans, boots, and a jacket for the weather, a far cry from the uniform most were used to seeing him in. He'd forgone his usual baseball-cap-disguise. After the initial excitement of his arrival he mostly mingled, and shook hands. But finally one of the overeager German journalists got him to say a few words.

"We're all here today because it's been seventy years," he said heavily. "Seventy years since Alice Moser went missing, last seen just over there." He nodded in the direction of the park, which was the site of the performance hall that had been demolished in the 50s. The river glittered as it slid past. Steve drew in a breath. "I know it's a long shot," he went on, "but I'm not the last person around who remembers those years. If you're out there - I don't care what side of the fight you were on, but if you know something, please come forward." His voice threatened to crack, so he drew in another breath and measured his expression. "Alice deserves to rest in peace."

Dear Steve,

… I'm sorry I didn't choose to come back. I dreamed about it, you know. I got on a boat back to New York, and you and Bucky and Tom were waiting for me at the port. You all looked exactly like you did when I left, even though I know you must be different. I held you all so tight my arms hurt. And then you took my hand and you led me back home.

I felt so lonely when I woke up. And the only reason that dream isn't real is because of this awful choice I've made. I can't go. But I've decided that when this craziness is over (because it must be over soon - other countries won't let Germany keep doing this forever. Or the Germans will realize that this is a pointless task and will give it up), I'm coming back. I'm coming back to Brooklyn. I'll buy Matthias's tailor shop and get it up and running again, and I'll sing on the radio, and I'll go to the pictures with you every Saturday.

I'll see you then.

Love,
Alice

Later that day Steve got a message from Alice Johnson, who'd been in close touch with him since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. (she'd lost a lot of faith after hearing about HYDRA). The message simply read:

Just saw you on the news, Steve. Thank you. I never met my aunt but I know that wherever she is, whatever happened - she'd be proud of you.

Steve hoped that wherever Bucky was, somewhere out there, that he would see this and remember.

April 2015

Then came Ultron.

Steve had a moment - just a night, really - when he thought it was over. They'd taken down the last of HYDRA, there were no other major threats facing the world, and… he didn't know what came next. The thought was frankly terrifying. He still had to find Bucky, of course, and he wanted to maybe ask Tony if he could look into Alice's missing persons case too. But other than that… when he looked into the future he saw blankness.

That night, in the midst of the party in the tower, Steve recalled sitting with Alice behind a church in France. She'd been quiet for a long time before saying I'm worried I won't know who I am, without the war.

Steve had promised her they'd figure it out together.

Alone, he wasn't sure.

But then: Ultron.

The monster Tony made attacked them in their own home, and then they found themselves trying to hunt it down across the world. In Johannesburg, one moment Steve was fighting, and the next his mind was gone in a flicker of red light.

The world seemed to slow. He wasn't in his uniform anymore - he wore his old green Army dress uniform, his head bare and his tie loosely knotted. He blinked, looked around, and found himself in an old dance hall. He didn't recognise it, but it felt familiar. Indistinct music crooned out of an unseen radio. Lights glittered.

All of a sudden a hand landed on Steve's shoulder.

He flinched and whirled, only to see Bucky standing before him. His heart ached - this was the Bucky he'd once known, wearing a smart dress uniform, hair clipped short, a grin on his face. Bucky squeezed Steve's shoulder.

"War's over, pal," he smiled.

Then Bucky flickered, shifted. A chill of ice filled the air and Bucky's eyes went dead, his hair grew out over his shoulders, and the hand gripping Steve's shoulder was suddenly made of metal.

Steve opened his mouth. A second later the cold-eyed Soldier faded, leaving Steve alone.

Steve let out a shaky breath.

Fingers brushed his forearm, making him spin again. And this time his heart jumped into his throat, because it was Alice. She wasn't Al or the Siren, but his Alice: she wore a dark green tartan dress, and her smile made his heart pound.

"You can go home," Alice said with a note of song in her voice. Then she seemed to blur at the edges. Steve reached out, unspoken words stuck in his throat, but when his fingers brushed her skin she dissolved like smoke. He turned, staring, but she was gone.

Then a distant beat registered in his ears. He paced forward, chasing the noise, and soon another figure appeared before him in the empty hall. This one didn't make his heart ache with loneliness.

This figure was himself. But not the version of himself he saw in the mirror every day. This was a small, narrow-chested young man with floppy hair and shaking arms. The small man pummelled a sandbag over and over as if trying to draw blood, though the sandbag hardly moved. Steve circled, keeping his distance, until the boy's face came into view. It had been some time since he'd seen that face, but he recognised the look upon it instantly. This boy looked completely and utterly lost.

The boy threw one last ineffectual punch into the sandbag and then looked up, meeting Steve's eyes. Panting, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

Steve opened his eyes to Clint shaking his shoulder, his voice high with panic.

"I'm okay," Steve mumbled. He shook his head to clear the visions of ghosts. "I'm okay. Where's… where's Bruce?"

The world went into meltdown after the disaster in Johannesburg, and Clint took them to a farm in the middle of nowhere. He introduced them to his family.

Steve felt large and awkward in the home, watching Clint hug his children.

"Sorry for barging in on you," he managed to get out, the first of them aside from Clint and Nat to address the small family. Bruce still seemed empty-eyed and hunched in on himself after his catastrophic Hulk-out.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead," Tony said drily, "but we were busy having no idea that you existed."

Steve watched, stunned as Clint and Natasha kissed children on the head and chatted with Clint's wife Laura. Beside Steve, Thor trod on a Lego house. Steve found his gaze drifting, landing on random things throughout the room: a family portrait on the far mantlepiece, books in the bookshelf, a throw rug on the couch, a half-eaten piece of toast on the table. The house was filled with a warm, contained chaos, unlike anything Steve had seen or had for… decades.

When Thor stormed out, it was a welcome excuse to rouse himself and leave the room.

"Thor?" he called.

"I saw something in that dream," his friend called over his shoulder as he strode off the balcony and onto the lawn. "I need answers. I won't find them here."

Steve drew in a breath. You and me both, he didn't say. A moment later Thor swung his hammer and was gone.

And Steve found himself alone on the balcony of a beautiful, white-painted country home, surrounded by rolling hills and a garden filled with flowers.

He turned to walk back inside.

Isn't this what you wanted? came the ghost of his own voice from his dream.

His gaze dropped. He drew in a breath, two, and then turned to walk out into the sunshine.

Dear Alice,

… I'm sorry about my last letter. I was panicked when I wrote it, I didn't mean it to come across the way it did. I guess I understand what you wrote about feeling powerless - there's really nothing I can do to help you, is there?

After almost begging Clint to give him something to do, Steve ended up cutting a pile of logs into firewood for the house. He'd gone inside briefly to change, but it made his skin crawl. He felt claustrophobic inside, which didn't make sense, but he suspected it had a lot to do with the dream the Maximoff girl had given him. He understood why Thor was so rattled.

He finished turning one log to splinters, then looked up, squinting in the sun. He thought about his dream, and about the life he'd pictured for himself after the war. I could've had something like this. He thought he might've been happy: a family, a quiet house in the countryside with a tractor and a pile of firewood.

Steve didn't think he was jealous of Clint, not really, but he hadn't had a lot of moments to stop and reflect on his disappointed hopes since he woke up in the future. From the minute he found himself in Times Square, his heart pounding at the strangeness of it all, he'd known that all his old dreams were gone. But this place made it all feel a lot closer. And more painful.

Clint, married with kids, Tony with with Pepper, Thor with a kingdom to serve, Natasha and Bruce falling for each other… Steve couldn't help but feel, once again, like an old man running out of time.

But then, as he looked back at the house, he smiled.

Alice would've hated this.

Not the having a home part - he knew that was what she'd wanted after the war. But she would've hated living in the middle of nowhere, remaining a secret. He knew deep down that Alice would never have truly been able to step away from the action. He supposed they had that in common.

After that realization, Steve felt more at ease. The Maximoff girl might have made him confront the darkest, loneliest parts of himself, but she'd also allowed him to see Alice and Bucky's faces again, and to hear their voices.

When Tony wandered up with another axe, Steve was happy to work beside him in companionable silence.

Until Tony broke it. "Thor didn't say where he was going for answers?"

Steve strode over to pick a new log. "Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things. I was kinda hoping that Thor would be the exception." He regretted the words as soon as he said them - that wasn't fair, he had as many secrets as the rest of them. He supposed it might be coming from a place of guilt. Just like Clint had hidden his family from them all, so had Steve.

His eyes landed on Clint helping his son to measure a bit of wood on the balcony. He was good with kids.

"Yeah, give him time," Tony sighed. "We don't know what the Maximoff kid showed him."

Steve brought his axe down on the log, splitting it apart. "Earth's mightiest heroes," he reflected. He shook his head. "They pulled us apart like cotton candy."

"Seems like you walked away alright," Tony said with a different note in his voice.

Steve paused in setting down his new log, and looked up. "Is that a problem?"

Tony peered at him with those dark, intelligent eyes. "I don't trust a guy without a dark side." He swung his axe down at his log. "Call me old fashioned."

Steve almost blinked in surprise. He'd never seen Alice as his dark side. But he supposed Tony didn't really know what he was asking. Steve wondered what Tony's dream had been.

"Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet," Steve told him.

Tony's brows drew together. "You know Ultron's trying to tear us apart, right?"

"Well I guess you'd know," Steve muttered. "Whether you'd tell us is a bit of a question."

Tony had forgotten about the firewood. "Banner and I were doing research-"

"That would affect the team," Steve replied hotly. He set down his axe.

"That would end the team," Tony urged. Steve sidestepped him to pick up another log, his temper rising. "Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the 'why we fight'? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?"

Steve tore apart his log with his bare hands, sending splinters flying and the two halves thudding to the ground. It had the desired effect: Tony fell silent, bemused.

Steve faced him with a grave expression. "Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die." He looked into Tony's eyes. "Every time."

Clint's wife came up and interrupted them with a request, and the tension eased. Before he walked off, Tony looked back at Steve and gave him a single nod. Steve wasn't sure what it meant. But he knew that no matter how much they argued or pushed each other's buttons, they were on the same side.

"Don't take from my pile!" Tony called back, pointing at his smaller stack of firewood. Steve couldn't help but smile.

After that, Steve couldn't face cutting more wood. It had been an outlet, but his disturbed feelings after the dream had gone cold. Instead, when the sun turned a deep orange as it approached the horizon, he went to sit on the edge of the balcony, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes on the distant forest.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there before someone dropped down beside him.

"Beer?"

Steve looked up to see Clint sitting beside him, offering a condensation-covered bottle. He nodded, and took the beer. Wouldn't do much for him, but he still drank it for the taste, and to feel normal. Thor's Asgardian liquor had been a nice change.

Clint settled beside him, sipping occasionally from his beer, looking out over the farm. Steve could just hear the riotous noises of children from inside the house, and clinking dishes, but mostly he focused on the sound of the breeze through the grass. Clint's presence was a reassuring steadiness to his right. Maybe...

When Steve opened his mouth he felt as if there were hot snakes churning in his gut. "I dunno… if Nat's told you this already, but…"

Clint turned to look at him. "I don't know what this is about, but Nat isn't in the habit of spilling other peoples' personal business. Unless they're a target." His voice was low. He seemed to sense the secret tangled in Steve's throat.

Steve smiled. "So I guess she didn't tell you about Alice, then?"

Clint's face creased in confusion.

"Can't fake that," Steve sighed as he saw the expression. He tipped his head back, looking up at the orange and pink sky. Where to start?

"This a girl of yours?" Clint guessed.

"Guess you could say that. She's my wife."

Clint's mouth dropped. "Damn, I thought I was the only one with a secret family."

The comparison made Steve's heart ache. "I… we were only married for a few months before she… went missing, but we'd known each other since we were kids."

Clint fell silent, listening.

"I guess you know the name Alice Moser?" Steve asked.

For a few moments Clint stared blankly. But then his eyes went wide. "Holy - you were… she and you…? The Siren?"

"Yes," Steve said simply.

For a few more moments Clint seemed to reel under the knowledge, his eyes darting. But then he seemed to collect himself: he drew in a breath, let it out, then met Steve's eyes again. "Damn. Okay." He cocked his head. "Tell me about her?"

And Steve did. Like he had with Natasha and Sam in his hospital room last year, he quietly told Clint about the girl who had been by his side in his childhood, who he'd written to for years without a hope of seeing her again, and the woman who had risked everything to protect the innocent. The woman he could not get out of his head, even seventy years later.

As the air began to cool around them and they'd finished their beers, Clint blew out a breath. "I'm so sorry, man. You deserved to have longer with her."

"I was lucky for the time we had," Steve replied softly. "But… yeah. I'm ninety six, and I knew Alice for… fifteen of those years. I wish I could've… could've…" his head dropped, and Clint set a hand on his shoulder.

"I know man. I know."

They sat silent like that for a long time. Eventually Laura came out to tell them that dinner was ready, and they had a surprise visitor. Steve pulled himself together, drew himself tall, and shared a glance with Clint. Together, they walked inside.

They regrouped themselves at the farm, and began pushing back again. They brought the Maximoff twins on board in South Korea, and back in Manhattan Tony and Bruce (with a little jumpstart from Thor) brought an entirely new being to life. Finally the struggle brought them to Sokovia, where a gruelling, heart-stopping battle culminated in an entire city rising through the cloud layer into a pale, lonely world. And an impossible choice.

"Impact radius is getting bigger every second," Tony told Steve over the comms. "We're going to have to make a choice."

Steve stumbled to a halt amidst the rubble, his chest rising and falling. Civilians rushed through the misty surface of the city around him, their faces written with fear.

"Cap, these people are going nowhere," Natasha said. "If Stark finds a way to blow this rock-"

"Not 'til everyone's safe," he said firmly.

She turned to stare at him. "Everyone up here, versus everyone down there? There's no math there."

He didn't meet her gaze. "I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it."

"I didn't say we should leave." He finally turned to look at her then, seeing the warm, sorrowful look in her eyes. "There's worse ways to go," she said. She looked out over the landscape of clouds stretching on for miles ahead. "Where else am I going to get a view like this?"

Steve's gut clenched as he followed her gaze out to the endless sky. Is this how you felt at the end, Alice? he wondered. What did you see before you went? Did you feel the same - like it was worth it?

"Glad you like the view, Romanoff," came a crackly, familiar voice over the comms. "It's about to get better."

The sifting clouds before them suddenly broke apart as a metal behemoth rose through them: a helicarrier, glinting in the sunshine and rumbling with a dozen engines.

Over the comms, Fury explained how he'd uncovered the old helicarrier and gotten it running, but Steve could barely hear him past the surge of hope that rose in his gut.

"Fury, you son of a bitch," Steve grinned.

"Ooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Steve's grin spread, and he looked around. Alright. Here we go.

Dear Steve,

… I saw people whose faces I recognized smashing windows and setting fire to buildings. I saw others retreating to their homes with tears on their faces. The air tasted like smoke, and firelight glinted off the smashed glass on the street, making it look like a river of flames.

I fell once, and landed hands-first on the broken glass. I've gotten it all out, but I'm writing with bandage-swaddled hands now. Feeling the glass dig into my skin that night made it all suddenly, startlingly real.

I got back up.

When the dust settled in Sokovia and Ultron had been completely eradicated, they built a new Avengers Facility. Pietro was dead and Bruce was gone, casting a shadow over them all. Steve hoped that wherever Bruce had gone he could find peace with himself.

And as they looked to the future of the Avengers, they took on new recruits: Sam, who'd finally been convinced that he was good enough to join, Rhodey, Wanda (who even in the depths of her grief had proved to be a kind, sensitive young woman), and the Vision.

Tony wanted to step back to spend time with Pepper, and so Steve found himself the leader once again. It felt right, but he also knew that this was just one more way of keeping himself busy. Ever since the Battle of New York he'd been desperate for a mission: S.H.I.E.L.D., then HYDRA, and now running the Avengers.

But what a distraction it was: with Tony's vision and resources, Steve's people sense, and Natasha's contacts, they ended up with a bustling facility uniquely set up to handle not only world security, but also to be at the forefront of scientific thinking.

And Steve decided it was past time to confide in his teammates.

On the day Thor decided to return home, Steve and Tony flanked Thor as they walked him outside, cracking jokes about Mjolnir and the Vision.

"I'm going to miss these little talks of ours," Thor said wryly, gripping Tony's shoulder briefly as they made their way outside.

Steve cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then found his pace faltering until he came to a stop just outside the door to the facility.

Tony and Thor, a few paces ahead, turned.

Tony's eyebrow quirked. "Something on your mind, gramps?"

Steve resisted a glare. He looked at Thor. "I know you've gotta leave and all" - Thor had already explained his theory about the Infinity Stones - "but I just… I think as a team, we've gotta try and be honest with each other." He swallowed. "Clint brought us to his family, which was a big show of faith, and I just…" he looked away. Why was this always so difficult to say?

Thor cocked his head, eyeing Steve. "You wish to tell us a secret?"

"Not a secret," Steve said automatically, then scratched his head. "I mean, yeah, I guess you could say it is."

"Bet you he's gay," Tony said in a mock-whisper to Thor.

Steve chuckled and glanced down. "No, actually. I'm, uh… married. To a woman," he clarified.

"Shut up," Tony said.

Thor's eyebrows had climbed up his forehead. "When did this happen?"

Steve furrowed his brow. "Um, about seventy years ago. Our seventieth anniversary would've been last August, actually."

Tony seemed to have taken Steve's initial announcement with a flat surprise, but at that comment his eyes shadowed. "She's dead," he said. It wasn't a question.

Steve drew in a breath. "Yes. Very probably."

"Very probably?" Thor questioned. He frowned. "I thought… I know you are an exception, but I thought that humans did not live very long."

"No, you're right," Steve acknowledged. "There's just been no concrete answer to what happened to her." He looked at Tony, who seemed to be thinking very hard. "Alice Moser."

Tony's eyebrows lifted and he let out a breath. "Damn. Sorry, Cap."

Steve and Tony didn't often express a lot of sympathy for each other, so this took Steve aback for a moment.

Thor was still frowning. "I don't understand - what happened to Alice Moser?"

Steve lifted one shoulder. "We don't know." The whole conversation had a dull ache burning in his chest, but after recounting the story a few times now it felt manageable. "She vanished back in '45. There one day, gone the next. Lots of stuff back then was shrouded in secrecy that we still don't have answers about. Best guess is…" he looked out across the Facility grounds, his gaze going distant. "She got caught. Captured, killed. And they didn't want to admit that they had a spy in their midst, so they kept it secret." He swallowed thickly.

Thor nodded slowly. "I am sorry, my friend." He reached out to grip Steve's shoulder. "Losing a loved one is a pain that never leaves, and I know how it can tear a soul apart. I don't know how it must be to still have no answers. I hope one day you will find some."

Steve smiled weakly. "Anyway. Just wanted to tell you both. Wasn't much point in keeping it to myself any longer, and it's the sort of thing you're supposed to tell your friends."

That made Thor smile warmly. Tony's face did something complicated and rapid before it settled on a scowl.

"All this time I've been calling you a hundred year old virgin and you're married," he said, sounding almost disgusted.

"Sorry to disappoint," Steve smiled.

Thor returned to Asgard, and Tony returned to Pepper. Steve stayed.

"Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book," Tony said as his car rolled up. "Build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up."

Steve couldn't help but smile. Privately, he thought that the only person likely to blow up his farm would be Tony himself. "The simple life."

Tony looked up, his face somehow softer after the truth Steve had just revealed. "You'll get there one day."

"I don't know," Steve replied. "Family, stability… the guy who wanted all that went into the ice seventy years ago." He glanced down. Went into the ice knowing that his wife and best friend were gone. "I think someone else came out."

Tony nodded, his eyes searching, and stepped toward his car door. "You alright?" he asked a few moments later.

Steve nodded, his face clearing. He might not have the people he saw himself spending the rest of his life with. His best friend might be out in the world somewhere doing who knew what and recovering from decades of brainwashing. He might never know what happened to his wife. But he looked out at the Facility he and Tony had built, bustling with soldiers and staff and the promise of positive change for the world, and he nodded.

"I'm home."

Got to head to work now. Take care of yourself. I'm really glad you're okay.

Yours,
Steve.

A few months into training up the new Avengers, Steve called Amaya.

"Hi, Steve," she said when she picked up. "Haven't heard from you in a while, how are you doing?" Very considerately, she didn't bring up the you-blew-up-a-city-in-midair thing.

Steve swallowed guiltily. Ever since Amaya's big article got published he'd been meeting with her less and less. He enjoyed her company, but he was no great secret-keeper and he couldn't quite stomach the guilt of still hiding things from her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he said honestly. He didn't give her an excuse. "Look, a while back you promised me you'd do Alice's story justice, and that you'd always be honest with me. I think I… I think I ought to return the favor. Can you meet soon?"

She didn't hesitate long. "Of course. This weekend? I'll drive up to New York."

They met at the cafe below Stark Tower, the one Steve had visited a few times before the Battle of New York. Amaya had grown into her own skin these days - she still talked a lot and fussed with her notes, but he didn't see the self-doubt he'd sensed in her back when they first met for coffee in D.C. He knew she was doing well for herself, what with her new wife and her healthy academic career. She'd gone from the article about Alice and Steve knowing each other to newer and greater heights, and he knew she was currently working on a book about the resistance in Austria during the war. She'd been learning German to help with her research.

He and Amaya spoke about her latest book and about his work for a while, until Amaya finally folded her hands together and laid her warm brown eyes on him.

"Okay, spill," she said. "I've known you long enough now to know when you've got something on your mind. Whether it's something you want me to publish, or something you want to tell me in confidence, go ahead."

Steve smiled into his coffee. "You don't miss many tricks these days."

"Experience from working with reticent nonagenarians," she winked.

He set down his coffee and collected his thoughts. "You're right. I've been thinking recently about… about all the secrets in my life. And the secrets I lived with for years. I don't think I'm very good at secrecy, in the end." Amaya listened patiently. "Alice had… so many secrets. She told me all the ones she could, since she didn't keep secrets for the fun of it. But she saw their value. And only a handful of other people know this, but… I was one of her secrets."

Amaya leaned in, her coffee forgotten. "What do you mean?"

Steve reached into the pocket of his jeans, then set a small object on the table between himself and Amaya.

Steve's mother's engagement ring lay on the dark wood, gleaming in the early winter sunlight. The Smithsonian had returned the ring and a few other personal items to Steve last year after he told them either to give them back or he'd break in and steal from them again.

Amaya stared down at the simple gold and diamond ring for a few seconds before she sucked in a breath in a sudden gasp.

"I never got the chance to give Alice this," Steve said softly. "I promised… after the war, I promised I'd give her this ring. Make it official." He chuckled under his breath. "More official."

Amaya was practically buzzing with curiosity now but she stayed silent, her fingers white around her coffee mug and her gaze watchful.

Steve touched the ring, turning it slowly on the table. "I think I'd known it for years. But then, at… at that seige I told you about at Soives" - he swallowed and shook his head - "she fought with us. And I've never had a battle like it since, where I was fighting for a whole town of people but all I could think about was her. Afterwards we went to go get a Jewish family hiding in the next village over and I realized that I never wanted to leave her side. We'd been dancing around it so long…" Steve let out a long breath. "I mightn't have done anything about it, I was… I wasn't brave. Not like Alice was, anyway."

His eyes prickled. "The family was hiding in this little churchhouse, and the priest who'd been protecting them married us - in French. Mine was still patchy, I didn't understand half of what he said." He chuckled wetly, and Amaya's low, soft laugh kept him talking. "We didn't tell anyone besides Bucky, though I'm pretty sure Alice also told her handler, Otto. Before we said goodbye I gave her a drawing of this ring as a promise." Steve picked up the ring and turned it, letting it catch the light. "I… I never got to give it to her." His throat closed up and something about the ring, and the memories, had tears rising irrepressibly to his eyes. "Sorry," he croaked.

He finally looked up, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw Amaya sitting across from him, quiet tears streaming down her face. His chest shuddered.

"You loved her," Amaya said softly, her eyes red. She said it with the tone of discovery, the tone of one who had been telling a story for years which had finally become complete.

Steve nodded, still holding his mother's - Alice's - ring. "I still do."

Love,
Alice

Article "Captain America, Time, and the Keeping of Secrets: How One Grad Student Became The Breaker of Long-Forgotten Truths"by Peter Xavier, The Times, November 2015:

When Amaya Reyes put out her latest popular-history article, the world knew better than to ignore it. In recent years, Reyes has established herself not only as an incisive, well-written historian, but also as the trusted confidant of none other than the First Avenger, Captain Steve Rogers. Since her first research thesis, in which she relied upon first-hand accounts of Rogers's time in Europe, researchers the world over have been green with envy at her ability to gain and keep the trust of Captain America.

At first, it appeared Captain Rogers was only supplying Reyes with contextual details of the 1940s and 1930s to supplement her research - which since her undergraduate years has been focused primarily on the Siren. But it appears that Reyes proved herself a trusted recipient of the truth, and in time Captain Rogers revealed to her that not only had he known of the Siren, he had actually known her, as a childhood friend and later as a war ally. This knowledge that two such famous war figures were so closely connected took the world by storm.

But it seems we still did not know the whole truth.

This month, Amaya Reyes (who is on track to complete her PhD by 2017) published a new article: "The Siren's Husband".

It seems that most revelations about the life of the Siren come as a massive shock and a cultural reshift for the world, so one would think we would be used to it. But no one was prepared for Reyes's (or rather, Captain Rogers's) latest revelation: on a late summer night in wartorn France, a young man named Steve Rogers exchanged wedding vows with a young woman named Alice Moser.

Reyes's article, blending Captain Rogers's own words with historical contextualisation for the events that surrounded the secret relationship and wedding, describes a story of a childhood love which became an enduring, deeply-felt bond that tied America's greatest war hero to the Germany's most infamous spy.

Captain Rogers is understated in his account of the time, clearly holding back, but the romance and tragedy of his relationship with Alice Moser is striking: "I never felt more myself than when we were together, those brief windows of time during the war," he is quoted in Reyes's paper. "The last time I saw Alice we didn't say goodbye, because we'd already done it so many times. I watched her go, and I never knew that it was the end."

Rogers expanded on the account of their "friendship" he had given previously, retelling stories from his childhood that Amaya Reyes treats with a deeply-held care and warmth. Rogers spoke of how he and Moser had sent each other coded radio transmissions while still in junior high school, exchanging the word 'Odyssey' as a kind of calling card which followed them into adulthood.

Reyes also includes a scan of a letter apparently sent from Moser to Rogers in October of 1938, describing a conflict Moser had with her uncle after he demanded that she perform a song for the Nazi Propaganda Department, which had led to her being essentially imprisoned in her uncle's house. The letter is a startling look into the mind of the ever-elusive Siren, and it makes her disgust and defiance against the Nazis plain. In her own words Moser grapples with secrets, lies, and her own morality.

The letter also appears to mark the beginning of her first foray into 'spywork', and perhaps the beginnings of her resistance network throughout Europe. She details a plan to agree to sing for the Propaganda Department, but to use the opportunity to smuggle three Jewish men out of Austria and to safety. She wrote: "All this time I've been wondering how I can theoretically have all this power as an internationally famous singer, but be almost powerless when it comes to helping my friends. Speaking out against the things happening in Austria and Germany would only have me shunned, or even arrested. But this… this is power that none of my friends have."

The letter also illustrates the tender, affectionate relationship between Moser and Rogers, long before their marriage in 1944. Moser writes of her sorrow that she might be making Rogers worried, and apologises for not fleeing back to the States when she had the chance. She describes a future in which she can return to Brooklyn to be with Rogers, and her family.

The letter is signed "Love, Alice".

Accompanying Reyes's article's online publication came a short recorded interview with the Captain himself, a rare accomplishment. Rogers is one of the most photographed Avengers, but he rarely does video interviews. It isn't a professional recording by any means: a five minute recording from a smartphone, as the Captain speaks warmly about his wife, and why he had kept the secret for so long.

"Those few who knew about it while I was still in the ice decided to keep it secret out of respect for her - for our - memory. And they didn't want Alice to become 'Captain America's Wife'." Rogers pauses here, a smile on his face. "I suppose she is, technically, but if anything… I'm the Siren's husband."

One of the biggest uproars yet followed the publication of "The Siren's Husband". Rogers has assured that this is the last secret he had yet to tell, and with the completion of the often-rewritten story of the Siren, the world is still coming to grips with it. Amaya Reyes will unquestionably become one of the best-known historians of the twenty first century, a well-deserved role given her empathy and care in telling the story of the woman she admired, and that woman's husband.

The Captain has always been a tragic figure, a man out of time, but now the world has learned that he is also a widower. What was once a story of battle and heroism has become a tragic wartime romance that has captured the hearts of historians and the public alike.

The Siren, for her part, always a figure shrouded in history and secrets, has become clearer than ever: a brave, intelligent woman who not only hid her heroism from the tyrants she surrounded herself with, but who also hid her love for their greatest enemy from them. A woman who married the man she'd known as a small, asthmatic boy, the boy she'd seen become a man wielding a painted shield as he stormed into battle.

Reyes has told the story of a husband and wife who both gave their lives to ending a war and protecting the lives of the innocent. Now, with all the pieces of the story in their place, the world can finally see the Siren as she was.

A few days after Amaya's article went up, Steve found himself sitting in the Facility common room, surrounded by Avengers.

It had been a big few days. The day Amaya's article first went live Steve had kept himself busy rigorously training his new recruits, until their phones could no longer be ignored and they broke for the day. Steve had had to leave the Facility for a while to escape the stares (not so much from his teammates, who already knew, but from everyone else).

He'd gone to visit Peggy in D.C., who had held his hand while he read Amaya's article out loud to her, and cried. He'd called Jilí, who picked up with a "hello, is this the Siren's husband?", making him smile.

He had watched the world react to his last great secret.

The shock and the sympathy, he expected. But some things still took him by surprise. People wrote tributes to Alice, posted photographs of her all over the internet with words of pride and support. Almost seconds after Amaya's article went live someone updated Steve's Wikipedia page to read Spouse: Alice Moser. The Smithsonian must've gone back over all their records because they finally realized that the young, pale-haired girl in Steve's childhood drawings was Alice, and made a big announcement about it. They announced that they were going to restructure their Captain America exhibition (which was going on a worldwide tour next year) to include a whole extra segment about Alice.

And in Brooklyn, people left flowers at Alice's statue. Steve didn't visit because he knew it would be surrounded by people, but he watched photographs pour in of the statue in the shady grove becoming gradually swamped by a riot of bouquets.

On the third day someone left a life-sized version of Steve's shield at the base of the statue. For whatever reason, it was that photo that finally brought Steve to tears.

After some time to let the knowledge that the world knew settle in, he'd returned to the Facility to find pretty much everyone waiting for him. To congratulate him.

Natasha had gripped his shoulder for a moment when she found him and smiled enigmatically. It was enough. Sam had reeled him in for a hug before going into therapist mode to make sure he was doing okay. Vision simply looked at Steve with those knowing, empathetic eyes and said thank you. Steve was met with pats on the back and congratulations, as if he'd only just gotten married instead of just announced it publicly. Even Tony dropped in for one of his occasional visits, bringing Clint with him.

They had a team dinner, discussing the article and poking fun at how Steve had kept the truth of his marriage secret from them for so long. Wanda asked about Alice, and Steve told them about her. Talking about her with his team made her feel realer than she had in years. As if he could turn around and spot her there, smiling at him.

"Y'know, I never would've pegged you as being into spies, Rogers," Clint said as he knocked back a beer on one of the comfortable orange common room couches. Beside him, Natasha rolled her eyes.

Steve frowned thoughtfully. "I never really thought of her as a spy. Well she was, but… it's complicated."

"Care to try explain?"

Steve thought about it, running a hand over his chin. His teammates and friends watched him, some still finishing dinner and others nursing drinks. He'd forgotten how many of them there were now: not just that original six from the Battle of New York.

Finally, he let out a breath. "Alice had to learn how to blend in," he said, thinking of their childhood. "Because she learned young that if you stuck out, you got kicked down. Her mom was a white ethnic Austrian, see, and her step-father Matthias was African-American. So Alice learned to avoid notice. She didn't do it out of cowardice, though." He leaned back, and sensed his teammates listening. "She knew what made people tick. And she couldn't stand by when she saw something wrong going down - we had that in common. But I'd go in head first, usually with Bucky behind me, and Alice would…" he smiled. "She was more quiet. And usually more effective. I used to say that she was like a bird of prey hiding behind the clouds, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

"Sounds like a spy," Natasha said with a hint of a smile.

"Well she was, I suppose," Steve acknowledged. "Spies aren't normally known for their kindness, though - no offence" - Natasha and Clint grinned - "but that was Alice's strength. That's why I…" he cut himself off. Swallowed. "Alice used to say that her attachments made her vulnerable: her connection to me, and Bucky, and her brother, and even her handler. But she also said they were her strength. She told me that having us reminded her of the real version of herself, behind the constructed personality. She was a good person, who did everything she could to hide it." He looked away. "Of course, it could be that's what got her killed."

A long silence passed.

Finally, Tony spoke. "Y'know, I feel like I'm getting to know her. And I…" his eyes darted, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable with expressing a genuine feeling, "I can see how you two would've been good together. Sounds like Alice Moser helped give us the Steve Rogers we all know and… and put up with." Wanda chuckled. "So," Tony went on, lifting his whisky tumbler. "Here's to Alice."

For a few moments all Steve could do was stare, his eyes wide and his heart thudding unevenly in his chest. But then Natasha lifted her glass, and Clint lifted his bottle, and soon they were all raising their drinks in the air to a woman they'd never met.

They were waiting for him.

His chest aching, Steve lifted his drink to join them. When he spoke his voice was soft, but the words were amplified by the voices of every single one of his teammates:

"To Alice."

Dear Steve,

If it does come to war, I know I can't ask you not to enlist. So I'll ask you now to take one goddamn minute and think. Think about what you're throwing yourself into, think about the consequences. Think about what I'd say. Then decide. I think that's the most I'll get you to agree to, so I'll leave it there.

I'll offer you the same promise.

Yours,
Alice.

To Alice!

Steve's motivations in AoU were stupid, sorry not sorry Joss Whedon. Allow me some creative license. As I've said, this rendition of the MCU is going to be quicker paced and a bit more AU than in The Wyvern.

And thank you all for your well wishes on the move! I'm now safe and thriving in the (surprisingly) sunny UK :)

Reviews

Guest: I'm so glad you liked it! And yes, it was fun to ruffle Sam's feathers a bit with that last revelation :) Nat has a healthy respect for fellow spies, even the historical ones! Thank you :)

Guest: Thanks! To be completely honest I forgot all about those letters, until a reviewer a few chapters ago reminded me that Alice had saved a box of her letters and I had to be like 'oh yeah, what am I doing with those?' But I really like the way it turned out :)

Teaanddoctorwho: All the feels! Hopefully this chapter was even more feelsy ;)

CookieWorkout: Trust me, you won't have to be stuck in anticipation for too much longer! Hopefully this chapter answered your question about Age of Ultron ;)

AceCookie: You are too kind, as usual :) Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Guest: I can't wait to show you what happens next! I promise you won't be left in anticipation too much longer. I love Nat and Steve's friendship too, I had fun writing those two :) Thank you!

MakayWha: So good to see you back for another chapter! The plot does indeed thicken… and will thicken even more next chapter ;)

CaptainLoki: Thank you lovely, I'm so glad you're still enjoying my twists and turns :) Steve for sure is a heartbreaker, he's so earnest and heartfelt in the way he feels things. Can't wait to show you what next chapter has in store!

MsMoe9: Thanks so much! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be along before you know it!

GuestPrime: Yes, Steve still has the letters to remind him of how things used to be! Thank you again for another lovely review :) Hopefully you enjoyed Amaya in this chapter too! And yes I love Nat and Steve's relationship, they're excellent friends. As for where Alice is... patience! (I know, I know - but I promise things are happening soon ;) )