Chapter 2 [Arctic Crash Site]

A thousand miles to the north, bitter wind billowed across the endless ice flows. Freshly fallen snow skittered across those surfaces. The faraway stars glittered in their dark backdrop but remained too far away to heat this barren place.

For life itself, it would be a tomb…

And for one person at least, it seemed to be such….

The Valkyrie command ship still lay broken across the icy plain. The impact had crumpled the wings and struts. The chill, despite Hydra's constructive genius, had wormed its way into the command deck.

Off to the side, Cap lay comatose. An icy film had formed around him. His breathing had slowed to an almost stillness. His heart rate followed that. If not for the Super Soldier serum, he'd be dead….

His body had other ideas however. As fast as frostbite would form, his skin would regenerate itself. His metabolism remained in a state of hibernation to contain hunger and pain. The cuts and bruises from his fight with the Red Skull had already healed. The quest for survival was underway.

His mind fought to remain sane staying in a dreaming state. And so it was….

[Cap's Dreamscape]

"Hey, Steve, you going to work on this or what?" a familiar voice bade. "Come on!"

Steve opened his eyes and looked around in surprise. Instead of being onboard the crashed ship, he found himself in a market store. His shoes almost glided over the varnished floors. He could see rows of canned and bottled goods. His nose picked up on the delightfully familiar smells of freshly cut prosciutto and salami. The eaves were a familiar brown above his head.

He grinned. He never tired of Emilia's Market. The war was done and behind him. He was home.

An elderly portly Italian man tapped him on the shoulder. "Steve? You okay? Don't make me call su signora again."

"Sorry, Signor Stallone. My mind was off fighting the war again," Steve apologized before assessing his situation. "Makes you realize how lucky we are."

"Ah si! That we are! That we are!" Stallone concurred with a hearty belly laugh. As with the neighbors, he'd worried that Steve's war experiences had left him scarred. He had seen the younger man struggle to adjust back to Brooklyn following his return from France. However they all found that a gentle nudge was enough to put him back on track. "But the neighbors, they are going to brain us if we don't have that sausage for their sauce, no? Maybe you might stuff some more links for me?"

"Sure. I'll get right to it," Steve apologized before hustling toward the back room. While he really didn't care for the feel of the pork, he could get through the task the quickest of the employees there. He removed the bowl of ground pork from that morning from the icebox.

Sure enough the spices in it aromatically informed him that all was ready.

"That's more like it!" he exclaimed and went to work stuffing it into the sausage casings before tying off the ends. For a good hour he pressed on in this fashion. Finally when the last bit of meat was gone from the enormous metal bowl, he stood back and admired the pile of sausages several dozen deep. "That should keep the neighborhood in stock for a couple of days anyhow."

"Now that is what I am a talking about!" Stallone cheered and clapped his hands. "Steve, my boy, you certainly can produce! This makes me happy!" He helped Steve get the sausages into the icebox. "Why don't you wash up? You have done good day's work. Peggy waits."

Hearing her name brought a warm smile to Steve's lips and made his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. The war had been Hell all right but it had brought her to him. "She'd want me to help you clean up, Signor."

"Not today. My Louisa and your Peggy—they have big feast planned. You go home and get changed. We will see you tonight." Stallone rubbed his shoulder as he had since Steve was a little boy.

Steve's mouth watered knowing how Signora Stallone could cook. "You will for sure. Can we bring anything?"

"You already are. Steve, we are familia of choice, my boy. You and Peggy—you survive the war. You bring back my country's good name from the depths. We owe you," Stallone reminded him. "And before that, you were a good boy always."

This is why I fought. I know that now. Despite the bullying and the beatings, Steve did have great memories of the old neighborhood. "Gratze."

"My pleasure. Now shoo!" The storekeeper pleasantly motioned him toward the sink where he could wash up.

Steve did so and then hung up his apron on the hook in the backroom. He made his way out of the storeroom and toward the front of the store. There he stopped and beheld a radiant sight.

Peggy watched him. Her eyes sparkled in the warm summer sun. Her dark brown hair rustled in the Brooklyn breeze. Her white blouse and dark skirt combined simplicity and tradition. A smile pulled at her rouge colored lips. "Good evening, my Captain. Have a good day?"

"The best. And you?" He kissed her on the cheek and gazed into her eyes.

"As always, I make the best of it. The neighbors and I had a wonderful high tea this afternoon. I really must get that cannoli recipe," she indicated.

"You're going to make me fat," he teased her.

"I highly doubt that. Still I do need to make sure that we live well. I can take time for that. Now can't I?" She inspected him and nodded. "You always did pass muster, Steve."

"Thanks."

"When you aren't late." She smirked mischievously.

He rolled his eyes at their little joke. "Let's get ready for dinner and you can tell me all about your volunteer work too."

Her eyes lit up. She squeezed his hand as they headed up the street. "Be glad to." She glanced up at the setting sun and smiled at him.

He sighed contentedly. This was all he wanted and ever needed….Ever needed….

[Arctic]

Steve's mouth twisted ever so slightly into a smile. He had some form of Paradise to wait on.

Now if only a rescue would come…..