"Agent Bishop, I think we found it."

Lifting her amber eyes away from the monitor, May now 22, turned to her fellow agent Carson. The man was bundled from to toe in the standard and required SHIELD thermal jacket and weather googles for the harsh arctic elements.

"Are you absolutely sure?" She questioned with hesitation.

He nodded assuredly.

"Yes. The men picked up a figure on their scanners 40 clicks from here. They've started excavating the site and by all accounts, it's the Valkyrie."

Her lips pursed together, holding back her racing heart flutter and flipping in her chest. Could this actually be it? Could it really be? For the last few years they've been searching for this, that's what she was told when she entered two years ago after her four years of training and six years of school. Though not a field agent she was stationed to the archive area of SHIELD aka historical; nothing like what Peggy said it would. But, May made the best of it, besides what was the point of having this knowledge if she never used it.

Bracing the elements, she follows Carson across the icy terrain, pushing back against the wind, and like before…she remained unaffected. Reaching the buried WW II advanced bomber plane, where two other agents stood outside operating the equipment as two others were inside looking around. She grabbed the walkie contacting them.

"This is Agent Stark, report your findings."

It took a moment for a response.

"Nothing yet. We've surveyed the hanger, entering the cargo."

Her heart raced, she was sure the others could hear. If this was it…if it was then…Oh Coulson would be thrilled. Her excitement pinched her on lips.

"Anything now?"

"Negative."

Her heart sunk, to quickly spring back up.

"Wait. Hold on…" there was a pause for a moment, "We have a shield. I repeat. We have a shield."

She threw her arms up, happy tears nearly ran down her face. Her contained smile burst on her face. This was great news. If her father was here, he'd be over the moon.

"Copy! Extraction team is coming to assist and SHIELD will be notified," May gestured to the two agents to call it in and call the extraction team. "I'm coming down."

Before there came a response she jumps down without the leaver, a bold and ludicrous move. The drop was cold and shot, she would have slipped easily on the ice surface but landed well. Despite the slight sting in her ankles. She didn't care. Crunching the snow under boots, hurried over to the location. Within seconds she arrived and her eyes, widening twice their size, set on the red, blue, and white well preserved shield of vibranium and the most prized: The body of Steven Rogers, Captain America.

Coulson owed her a drink for sure.

Despite not being affected by the cold, May relished in comfort of dipping into the hot waters of her sink tub. A pleased sigh escaped her parted lips, it was good to be back home. After weeks to nearly months down in the arctic, it was good to be back in the civilization. Back in her one-bedroom, two-bath loft apartment in Queensbridge, New York. Top floor, overlooking the area. She'd barely been back for a week and almost forgot what a nice bath and bed felt like. Letting the warm water envelope he, relaxed. Closing her eyes blocks everything out and submits herself to the tranquil silence. As her mind, body, and soul transcended, a heavy foot figure entered through the front. Tossing their SIG Sauer P226, Glock 19, and other gear on the clean stainless island; kicking off their boots, and throwing their bulletproof vest on the plush blue sofa, instead of hanging it up walked across the open kitchen across the spacious living to the archway leading to a small hall that had to choices.

Left or right.

They go right, leading to the one and only room. A queen bed in the center, with mint green bedding. Nightstands on either side, with a picture of the couple on the right side. A few hung around the room, above the headboard a large picture of the Stonehedge, why, it was her choice. A large window allowed light in and overlooked the neighborhood. On the bed, they find May's issued SHIELD untraceable cell, that lit up. An incoming message. She was being called in. Picking it up, holding it at eye level knew the screen wouldn't unlock. SHIELD's phones worked that way. What her assignment was, only May would know.

A bit ticked, they just returned from a mission and hoped for…personal time. Tempted to hide it, or better throw the phone against the wall, didn't get the chance.

May stepped out wrapped in a towel, surprised to see them. "Brock? When did you get here? What's wrong?" She noticed his scowl and knotted brows.

Her eyes drop to the phone and instantly knew. Normally she'd throw herself on him whenever either of came home and the rest would commence. But, she walked over and took the phone from him, unlocking it through face recognition. Not even giving Rumlow a peck on the cheek, she turned away denying him the chance to see what it was about.

"What does it say?" He queried, hoping she'd tell him.

She flashed a sweet coy smirk, "Sorry. Can't tell you. But they need me ASAP."

He sat on their bed, "Right now?" He reached out grabbing her by the wrist, began pulling her towards him. Towards the bed. Kissed the inside of her hand. "You can spare a few minutes," he whispered, pulling her closer. His hands drop to her waist and began slithering in-between the slip.

As inviting and invigorating as the touch was, and the small moan that slipped from May's lips. She couldn't.

Quickly she pulls away, "Sorry. I have to go." She shakes it off, quickly walking to their shared closet.

Rumlow frowned harder than stone. Every word sprung in his mind he wanted to say. He needed a cold shower. Within minutes May came out dressed in casual flared tan pants, white fitting sleeveless blouse accentuating her petite, slender-crvaceous frame, tan slip-on. Her hair was thrown back into a mid-ponytail. Slipping her phone into her pocket grabs her clutch, gives a wave to Rumlow, and leaves.

Car key. Ignition. Gas. Within a half, an hour May pulled into SHIELD's underground parking. In another five she was in the elevator and two minutes after she stepped off finding Fury there.

Straight-faced as ever.

"You're late." He berates, walking off.

She followed down the hall. Keeping his pace as he filled her in.

"You've got a new assignment. That requires your expertise. You make others feel comfortable right? That warm personality of yours."

May rose quizzed brow. "My division deals with archives. Historical things. That's my expertise. Not making others feel comfortable, I'll take the compliment."

"That's not Trish said, heard you make the best chocolate chip on this side of the east coast."

"Director Fury, where is going?"

He didn't answer and steps into another elevator. She does the same. He pressed a lower level. A very lower level. Her stomach dropped with the elevator, just as she opened her mouth, Fury handed her the file he had in his coat.

"Be quick."

Opening it, her eyes zip through. Popcorning to words that were important. She found a few and right then realized what this was about. Her heart raced, the moment she finished the elevator opened. Fury stepped out, she followed into an area that looked like a prop set on a movie that tried to resemble the 1940's, which was broken.

"What happened?" She questioned out loud, staring at the broken and splintered board.

"Your assignment," was all Fury said and stepped over the mess into the 'room'.

May leaps over it and into 1940's hospital room and there sitting on the bed. Awake. Thawed. Filled with pain and anguish, her new assignment.

Steve Rogers.