The sounds of peeping monitor are aching in my beat of the heart. I am alive. Every time it is tougher and tougher to believe that.

I slowly open the eyes and find myself in a completely white room. A white coverlet, white curtains, white shelves, even flowers in the vase are white too.

In a moment this contrast catch my eye — the white room and a bright-red lipstick on her lips. She's wearing an office suit that fits her unexpectedly well. Piercing grey in the hair softly lies on her shoulders. First wrinkles appeared on her face.

I swallow and turn my head giving her a sign. The woman immediately gets up from a chair and darts to me.

"Where am I?"

The woman, who turns to be Peggy, warmly smiles at me and takes my hand.

"You're in New York. In a hospital. You're okay."

She lowers her gaze as if feeling afraid to ask something.

"Izzy..."

"What is it, Peggy? Just spill it out."

"Were you really in captivity... all these years?"

"Yeah, all these years. But, not really how you think."

The woman sharply recoils, a professional hesitation flickers in her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

I got up on the elbows in the bed and looked around the room. Since I was let out the last time, many things have changed.

"What year is it? What happened?" I ask without answering her question.

"Seventy fourth," Peggy replies mechanically shaking her head. "But..."

"I need to see home."

"You are, probably, kidding me," she said getting up and pacing in the room. "You were at Hydra since forty fourth all this time and the first thing you want to do is visit home?"

"Yeah, imagine it," I snapped suddenly. "You know, I didn't really have a chance to send them a postcard saying that I can't come back from the war."

I sit and try to move the legs. The knees, that are seen outside the hospital shirt, still hurt and are covered in bright purple blurs. Below I see red bruises.

"I'm going now."

"Okay," Peggy gives up. "I'll drive you. Just promise me. When we get back, you'll tell me everything."

She impressively looks at me from behind the perfectly shaped brows.

"Everything."

"Good," I sigh. "Promise. And now, find me some clothes."

She walks out of the room carefully closing the door, and I notice a security guard at the entrance. They don't seem to trust me. Well, I don't blame them. They will have even more reasons for this when I'll tell Peggy everything.

The memories flash behind my eyes: screams, pain, dead soldiers, bodies, blood. I sharply bend in half closing my eyes and covering my ears with the palms. But nothing can save me from my own demons. They live deep in my head and nobody has ever got a possibility to expel them. Well, almost nobody.

Peggy quickly comes back with female long trousers and a blouse of not my size. I realize that has already forgotten what it feels like to wear normal clothes. The last thing I remember is a warrior costume. Completely black to cover myself in the darkness.

I wear it fast and we go out at the street. In the first second I get stunned, people were running at the streets hurrying for their own business. The clothes haven't changed much, but something is different. Now I completely lose the confidence in my strengths, I get scared to be alone in the crowd. And their looks at my huge bruise at the chin only make this feeling worse.

A beautiful red auto, that fit Peggy so much, quickly carries us through the streets leaving only the gas behind. I sit with my head at the back of a leather chair and look in the window. Now, when I'm free, I don't really believe it. I guess, that's why I can't react truly. It's like falling into a shock when no joy, no sadness is possible. And until I get out of that shock, I won't be able to feel life again. Every second it feels like in the next moment another soldier will jump out of the corner and will hit me at the ribs because they had a cold coffee in the morning.

Peggy is silent all the road, like the words couldn't form in her head. I understand her. After spending thirty years in a cell, you learn to save the words until you really need it. But I get a feeling like my mood will come back soon. For Isabelle Brittain to be upset for a long time? My brothers would laugh at me. Or no, probably, we would all laugh together. With Peggy and everyone who came back.

I suddenly feel like I want to know everything, to ask her what has happened, but I don't have guts to. Has Steve become world-famous? How is Howling Commandos? Do they remember him? The last question I want to say especially strong, but I can't. The time is not right yet.

Finally, the car stops near a small greeny house in the center of Brooklyn. I peer in the windows hoping to see familiar faces. The heart skips a beat when I get out of the car and run on the porch.

But Peggy's voice stops me.

"Izzy, wait! I don't think you should go inside..."

"What are you talking about?" it seems to me, that I nervously smile.

"This house no longer belongs to your family," she says without a smile. Peggy didn't say it out loud, but her eyes... oh, her eyes were speaking by tlemselves. "Look in the backyard."

Something inside me suddenly breaks. I harshly dart from the porch and run to the backyard already knowing what I will find. And I still don't believe it, just can't.

Yes, I spent thirty years in captivity, I was tortured, was made to do things I'm afraid to talk about, but my family is the thing I was not ready to lose.

And I lost it anyway.

My legs bend, I feel pain in the knees when they meet the grass. Three gloomy graves look at me — the mother and brother-twins. Everything I had. My world, my love. Destroyed.

The shroud of tears appear in my eyes, lips shatter, I cover my mouth with the hand, I don't have any strength anymore.

I don't hear Peggy's steps at all. I feel only the warmth of her hand on my shoulder.

"How?" I breath out. "When?.."

"Fred and Mike in the beginning of the forty fifth. Just a little bit until the end of the war. And your mother... I guess, she couldn't bear their loss. And then, you didn't come back, and she just died from sorrow."

I remember mother's face, warm and kind, her brown eyes — just like my own. And dark curls falling to her shoulders. People used to say that I'm her copy, because the fragile figure, the eyes, the face, the hair's color was the same for us. Even the voice was alike.

"I could have saved her," I stop crying. "I was alive. Alive! And she didn't know it! Damn it!"

I sharply hit the ground with my fist. I don't care if anybody hears. Who can live in this house anyway? It belongs to my family — belongs to me.

"Come," Peggy whispers kindly getting me up on the legs. "Come, I'll help you."

She takes me to the car and we head back.

"Maybe, if you tell me, you'll feel better?" she says. "You'll see, you just need to rest. Just get back to normal."

I feel practically nothing, just stare at the window and keep silent. Emptiness is the one thing that's left inside me. Nothing else is there. My family is dead.

A/n: how do you like the story so far? It also will contain some references to "Agent Carter" tv-show and future marvel movies.