28th December, 1945, Côte d'Azur, France.

The first thing she felt was warmth. It was dancing on her skin, holding her still. It was comforting and disconcerting.

Her eyes opened, unwillingly, unbidden – and they took some time to focus, a moment to realise that fluttering of shadows on the high, arched ceilings, were patterns from leaves. She could hear rustling from the trees that must have been around her.

The sun lit the room fully, the gauzy curtains drifting lazily, and the cotton sheets over her body were softer than anything she could remember.

She couldn't remember anything.

The realisation was enough to panic her, send adrenaline and fear crashing through her body, enough to make her leap from the too comfortable bed, and back into the nearest corner, knocking over a tall base with a loud shattering sound. She flinched, hands flying up instinctively. The shine of silver from her hands made her pause, looking at the inch-long claws protruding from her nail-bed.

"Hey! Hey – whoa, it's okay!"

The loud voice from the doorway made her startle again, pressing back against the wall and dropping into a defensive position.

His face was creased into a worried frown, hands out placatingly. The man in the doorway was shorter than her, not immediately threatening, and inordinately familiar. Familiar.

"Listen, I figure you know maybe, two or three people here, max. it's always good to have friends so, I uh, I figure…" He was panting – but he looked sincere, underneath the smirk and bravado.

"You want to… be my friend?" She was still new to the language, new to the country, the idiosyncrasies of a people she didn't understand. But she had never had a friend before.

"Ah… yeah. But don't make it weird." A smile. A handshake. A friendship.

"Howard?" she asked, a lump of emotion suddenly choking her. Howard Stark let out a relieved puff of air. She stepped off the wall, still disorientated. "How – I mean, what-?"

He caught her into a tight hug. She was used to sudden displays of affection from the man – but the way he was holding her now felt almost desperate. She raised her arms to bracket him, resting her cheek briefly against his hair.

"Howard – is she awake-?"

A female voice now, but this time, she could place the name instantly.

"…You must call me Peggy. You saved my life, Adeline. I won't forget that."

Peggy stopped dead in the doorway, and gave a tremulous, watery smile. "Oh, Adeline." Howard stepped back, allowing the two women to meet in the centre of the beautiful room. "I'm so glad you're alright." Peggy murmured.

Adeline felt almost complete.

But then-

"Steve." She pulled out of Peggy's embrace. "Where's Steve – I –" it was like being slapped in the face, the force of her memories returning like a physical blow, and she stumbled backwards.

"Please…" Steve's face was red raw and frantic. "Hold on, please. If you fall, I can't – I won't – I need you."

The energy was building beneath her, as a desperate Schmidt clutched to leg, trying to survive – but dragging her down with him – the energy source building in its momentum. She wasn't healing and the wound in her chest was killing her.

"The world needs you more. Stop the plane. Finish this." Their hands were slipping, wet with blood and sweat, and Adeline grew heavy with exhaustion.

"NO! I can hold you, I can pull you up – just give me a second to catch my breath-"

"We don't have time." Her voice was gentle, her heart was full. "I love you, Just-Steve."

And then she was falling, spinning towards the earth, as the sky lit up around her.

Peggy and Howard exchanged a worried look. Howard cleared his throat. "Listen, Ads – about Steve-"

"Is he back on the field already? He must be." She was rambling a little, "He's got to be. Is he angry at me? Where-"

"Steve didn't make it." Peggy's voice was hard, as final as stone sealing a grave and Adeline just shook her head.

"You're lying." She smiled at Peggy. "They've done this to me before, you know. Hydra. They tell me someone is dead. But they are not." Howard sniffled quietly.

The sound made her turn. He was crying quietly, and now, she could see the tears in Peggy's eyes. A horrible sort of realisation lapped at her. "No. No. No, tell me… please." She sunk to her knees, shuddering. "Please! Tell me you're lying!" she screamed.

Peggy shook her head, the first tear spilling prettily down her cheek. "He couldn't land the plane. He had to put it in the water – Adeline I'm sorry."

"We looked for him, we're still looking for him – but it's been months now, and we only found you from tracking the energy signature-"

Adeline tuned Howard out, standing on shaky legs. She crossed to the window, and as the breeze blew back the curtains, revealing the costal town sprawled beneath them, the crystal waters, white sand and clear sky.

It should have been stormy and desolate. It should have ugly; it should have been destruction and pain; because Steve was dead.

Adeline bowed her head, crying silently.

Steve was dead, and was not.

Adeline lingered at the dock, staring at the ship that would be her home for the next week and a half. Howard had insisted that the boat was 'the only way to travel, darling,' and Adeline felt no particular desire to separate herself from her friend, so she had followed him.

The ocean was smooth, deceptively pretty; sparkling with promise.

She didn't remember her time beneath the waves, didn't remember being lifted from the crushing depths, Schmidt's energy source pinned to her chest.

She didn't remember how she had gotten through the past months.

Again, emotion threatened to engulf her, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She could picture him there; in her memories. He was smiling and warm. He was happy.

"Commander?" There was a light touch to her shoulder. Turning, she met the earnest brown eyes of Thomas Caverly. He looked concerned.

She looked him over – a force of habit now. The now twenty-year-old still looked remarkably doe eyed, despite the years of combat he'd seen. He had a small scar on his temple, from their time on Gold Beach, and his right arm was still stiff in the cold weather – or so he told her – but he was alive. He was alive, and he had been happy to see her, his whole family were. She still wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up joining her, how she had agreed to have him stay on with her. She smiled at him. "I'm alright, Tommy."

He looked appeased, and turned back to the boat, looking queasy. "I ain't ever been on a boat before." He said nervously.

"That's not true." Adeline laughed slightly. "I seem to remember we met on a boat."

Thomas quirked a shy smile. "They was more death traps then boats."

Adeline snorted, ignoring the phantom memories. "That they were, Tom, that they were." She rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him slightly. "We should board before Howard falls off."

Thomas looked up to the deck – where Howard and Maria were standing – both of them waving frantically, Howard tipping dangerously forwards over the guardrail, a glass of champagne in his grip. Maria gave him a less than amused look, before rolling her eyes conspiratorially at Adeline. She smiled again.

She and Thomas walked up the gang-plank and joined their two companions, and Adeline turned back to the crowd, spotting Peggy and Phillips instantly. They were surrounded by her comrades, and the Howling Commandos weren't cheering like the rest of the crowd. But they were smiling, and as she watched – they raised their hands in unison, saluting her one last time. She nodded to them, snapping one last salute as the ship was released from the dock. She would see them again, but for now, the wound was too fresh.

Perhaps there was pain, and sorrow – but there was also hope, friendship; and an opportunity to forge a new future.

Adeline turned her gaze to the horizon, feeling Howard settle into her side comfortably, Thomas grip nervously at her shirt sleeve, and Maria smile at her.

America awaited. The land of dreams and freedom.