Okay, so this story got over fifty views in just one week and you guys are seriously the best things ever. Like this makes me so happy, you don't even know! I love you all so freaking much! :D

Anyway, without further ado here's the second chapter, and as always let me know what you guys think!

Adara.

Chapter Two:

1945, Location: Somewhere over the Arctic

"You know I still don't know how to dance." There was a half-smile on his face as he pulled the compass out of his pocket, flipping open the lid and setting it on the panel right above the radio. He wanted hers to be the last face that he saw before the end.

"I'll show you how." Peggy had tears in her voice then, though she was trying so hard to hide them. She was trying so hard to be strong for him when she didn't have to be. He was alright with this, he really was because there was somebody waiting for him.

I'm sorry that you had to wait for me Buck, I know it was supposed to be me and you until the end of the line. Hopefully you won't be too mad that I missed my stop.

"I'll show you how, Steve." Peggy almost sobbed, "Just be there."

The ground was coming up closer. He wish that they'd had more time. That they had the time to go out dancing, that there could have been something more than just a quick kiss on the jeep.

"We'll have the band play something slow." He promised, voice coming out so calm. So peaceful. "I'd hate to step on your…"

The radio went out at the first jarring impact, sending him jerking from his seat as the plane dived nose first into the ocean. When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, there was always collateral damage as made evident by the compass that went flying before knocking into the far wall. The water crashed in through the broken windshields, the strengthened glass not enough to keep the greedy fingers of water at bay.

Everything was so cold, and he clung to the memory of Peggy's warm features, the intensity of her eyes, for as long as he could manage. Those eyes were the last thing he saw when the water swallowed him whole and the darkness claimed him.

Then there was nothing.

IOI

June 22, 2011, SHIELD Base: The Bank, Location: New York

Something was wrong. Everything looked right, god knew he'd been in enough hospitals to know what they looked like, but there was still something wrong. He just… couldn't put his finger on it. The bed was perhaps a little more comfortable than he'd been used to, but then he'd been sleeping on military cots and hard ground for the past couple of years now. Was it… was it the fact that he was alive? Because he had definitely not been expecting that.

When the plane had crashed into the ocean he'd thought he was a goner for sure and yet here he was, it was sunny out, and he was alive and breathing.

"Philly's have managed to tie it up four to for, but the Dodgers have three men on…" Wait. That sounded familiar. An image came to mind then, the sight of crowds cheering at the stadium, a huge hotdog in his hand, Bucky beside him with that big goofy smile on his face.

Oh god, Bucky. It hurt to think of his best friend, and he immediately shied away from that train of thought. Sitting up, he pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes until he saw stars exploding behind the closed lids.

Focus on what was important; why was the radio on and reporting on a baseball game that he had been to years ago?

Where was he?

"Good morning." Blue eyes snapped up at that, landing on the frame of the woman who had just walked in. She was dressed like an army nurse, long red hair curling around a pretty face with bright red lipstick. There was something off about the way she walked though, an unspoken tension in her frame an uneasiness in her steps. And those heels she was wearing… a woman on her feet wearing high heels all day? They would have to be killing her by now and she didn't even look a little uncomfortable. "Or should I say good afternoon?"

"Where am I?" He demanded with a slight growl, not missing the way her eyes darted to the door for a split second as she seemed to steel herself. His first thought was HYDRA, but he didn't want to just attack an innocent dame until he had a definite answer.

"You're in a recovery room in New York city." She answered easily, batting long lashes at him and giving him a disarming smile. There was something hauntingly familiar about the nurse, the way she walked closer to his bed with her hands resting leisurely at her side. Something about the set of her eyes, and the curve of her nose.

But he didn't believe her. "Where am I really?"

The nurse seemed thrown at that one, a mildly panicked look on her face for all of one heartbeat before it cooled into that still polite, innocent expression. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

So. She wanted to play the dumb card then.

"The game; it's from May, 1941." The color drained from her already pale features at that, making them appear even more sallow. "I know, because I was there. Now I'm going to ask you again, where am I?"

He was out of the bed then, advancing on the woman. In her heels she was almost as tall as him, and she refused to cower beneath his glare. Any other circumstance and he might have been impressed by that, but as her fists clenched at her side he just felt angry. He didn't know where he was, what had happened, or how long he'd been unconscious.

And he had a date to keep.

"Captain Rogers, I need you to calm down." Her tone switched completely, the breathy sighs hardening into something much sterner. It only set him off further.

"Now, I'm gonna ask again; who are you?" He snapped, looking behind her as the door opened and two armed individuals stepped in. He tensed, body falling into a defensive stance as he prepared to strike. He wouldn't hit a woman—hell he'd do what he could to protect her from the fight that was about to go down—but the men behind her were fair game.

They came forward, and they were easily thrown back. The hole that he punched through the wall with their bodies revealed a long, dark hallway filled with more of them. His attention cut to the brown eyed nurse, who was watching with an impressed look on her face and—surprisingly—annoyance.

"Captain Rogers, wait." He didn't bother to listen to her, long strides taking him to the doorway before the men could recover. He did hear an annoyed swear in the background. "I fucking knew this shit wasn't going to work. All agents, code 13. I repeat, all agents code 13."

As soon as those words came on the overhead speakers he picked up the pace. His legs pumped with a strength that he still hadn't gotten used to, not really. Not even after those few years of pushing the enhancements of Erskine's serum to the limits. He still couldn't corner well, and ended up crashing into a crowd of stunned people, most of them wearing nice business suits. It didn't matter, they didn't matter, he just needed to get out.

He needed to figure out his location and then he could go from there.

"Captain Rogers!" At the harsh tones of his name he gave himself one chance to look back, surprised to find the nurse from earlier chasing after him. Her shoes were nowhere to be seen now, and her hair was streaming out behind her.

That was the only look he was willing to allow himself, and turning his attention back to where he was going, he ran harder. He saw a door, the word exit displayed overhead in bright red letters and a thread of hope filled him. Steve latched onto that hope, clutched it greedily to his chest and narrowed his eyes on that doorway. He had to run faster.

As it happened, he ran out the front door.

It was warm outside, a sweltering heat that was as familiar to him as the scent of the city around him. So, the red haired nurse hadn't been lying and he was in New York. Small comfort that, he still didn't trust anyone right now.

Booted feet slapped against damp pavement—it had rained recently—but he paid it little mind. He could barely feel the rebounding force against his shins and knees as he ran. He wanted to get to familiar ground, he needed to get to high ground, just somewhere where he could stop and take stock of everything.

Cars beeped angrily at him—nothing new in the city—but when he allowed himself to pause right in the middle of the road to glance at them… there was something wrong. He had never seen cars that looked like that before, they were too sleek, too rounded to belong in his time. And yet they were so commonplace that they had to be the societal norm. He ran farther down the street, faster, arms and legs working like pistons as his lungs gathered as much oxygen as they could manage to push him forward.

The people crossing the street, on their bikes, with their umbrellas, didn't seem to really notice him at first. In fact, his existence was only acknowledged if he drew near. It was as though the chaotic thoughts and actions going on around him were infections, and the civilians could pick up on them as soon as they were in close enough proximity.

He was turning to Times Square, and there were… screens everywhere? This… this wasn't New York! At least, not like he had ever seen it before. The silhouette was compellingly accurate, even if everything looked wrong. His legs slowed, eventually stopping, and he spun around in confusion. Blue eyes drew in everything that he could manage, mind trying to process what he was seeing.

He had gotten beaten up in that alley once, but now it was chalked full of garbage, so much so that it was forcibly overflowing from the dumpsters and into the street itself. The scenery kind of looked like one of those cheap dime-store paperbacks that Bucky had been so fond of reading. The science fictions ones where the hero would go to sleep and then wake up in the future.

A small fleet of black…cars…surrounded him then, more men in suits pouring out of them to box him in. He eyed them warily, sizing up the chances of taking them and escaping if he needed to. He needed his shield, needed to find Peggy. She would be able to explain everything to him.

"At ease, soldier." He whipped around, a little over 180˚, to find a dark skinned man standing in front of one of the cars. He was dressed all in black, the hem of his long coat ending right at the start of his boots. They sized each other up, two blue eyes meeting one deep brown as the man stepped forward. He seemed relaxed, more than slightly exasperated, as though all of this was normal to him.

Well, that was fantastic for the man in the trench coat, but he was barely holding everything together at this point.

"Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly." The one eyed man's voice was low, it was sincere, and he took that as a small comfort all things considered.

He tried hard to control his breathing, eyes darting around as fear started to worm into his heart. A tone of voice like that? There was something the man wasn't saying. Something big.

"Break what?" He demanded. A crowd was forming around them, the other people in suits doing what they could to hold it back. So they weren't just here to contain him, they were also here to control the crowd.

The man's face was impassive, coolly impassive, but he could have sworn he saw sympathy in that one blink. "You've been asleep Cap. For almost seventy years."

His first instinct was to call the man a liar, but he knew that it was true. He wasn't sure how, he wasn't sure why, but through some miraculous feat of science, Steven Rogers was just like the main character in one of those sci-fi novels. He had fallen asleep thinking he was dead, and woken up in the future. It was the only way to explain the cars, to explain how New York was so different and exactly the same. He didn't want to believe it, but… there was no way to deny it either.

And he was surprisingly handling it very well.

"Are you gonna be okay?" The man in black asked, genuine worry in his voice now.

Steve said the first thing that came to his mind. "Yeah… Yeah. I just… had a date is all."

"I told you it wouldn't work." The red headed nurse was calmly pushing her way through the barrier of men in suits, the slightest dotting of sweat on her brow as she padded up to them in completely bare feet. The bite of concrete into the unprotected soles of her feet were ignored, if she even felt them at all, and he felt the weight of her eyes on him.

"Captain Rogers." The man in the coat ignored her for a moment, though Steve noticed that his lips pinched slightly. "My name is Nicholas Fury, I'm the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We call ourselves SHIELD for short. The woman beside me is one of our better agents, Nicole Dugan."

Dugan. As soon as Fury—for some reason Steve could only associate the man with his last name—said her full name something clicked in the back of his mind. The woman was familiar to him because she was somehow related to Dum Dum.

"Captain." She inclined her head to him, reaching back to gather the long mess of tangled curls and pull it up into a messy bun.

Steve felt color rising to his face as he watched her, suddenly feeling ashamed for his earlier behavior. "Ma'am. I apologize for my earlier behavior. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Scare me?" One eyebrow arched in skepticism. "No, your reaction was quite expected actually. You'll have to try a lot harder than that to scare me."

Oddly enough, he didn't doubt her for one second. She had the sort of bearing of someone who wouldn't be afraid to lay a person out flat just for looking at her wrong.

"Agent Dugan is the granddaughter of one of your former teammates, Cap, Timothy Dugan. He was one of the co-founders of SHIELD, and Nicole has followed in his footsteps." Fury confirmed his suspicion, and as he said it Steve could see the resemblance even more. Her eyes were different, but way she sized him up with them weren't.

"Agent Dugan also feels like we should be having this conversation in private. Not, you know, in the middle of the street." And the smart mouth was classically Dum Dum.

Steve saw the first flicker of actual emotion go across Fury's face, and it was irritation at the woman beside him. For her part, Nicole didn't seem to mind in the slightest. In fact she appeared to be entirely absorbed in brushing out the wrinkles of her skirt.

"Look, I still don't know if I should trust you people." He growled, eyeballing the two of them warily. Fury met the distrustful glare easily, but the woman… she glowered right back at him. She was so like her grandfather it would almost be hilarious if the situation wasn't so surreal.

Was Dum Dum even alive? The rest of the Commandos? God knew Colonel Phillips had to have passed away by now, but what about… what about Peggy? Steve wasn't actually certain if he wanted to know the answer to that question.

"By all means, Captain." Nicole drawled, her words heavily flavored by a slow, southern accent. "Stay here and try to sort it out yourself. Honestly, I think it would be hilarious to watch."

Fury cut her a surprised look, but remained quiet as she stepped forward. Her advancement was met by him taking a half step back before he realized what he was doing and forced himself to remain still. She poked him once in the chest, an accusing jab of the finger as her other hand fisted on her hip in a movement that was characteristic of all women when they were angry.

"You're scared, you have no idea what's going on, I get that. But here's the thing, you need SHIELD right now. We're the only ones who can help you get a grip on this situation. Or not, but you won't last long here without valid paperwork, or any money." She shrugged, as though she genuinely didn't care what he did. Steve felt he was going to give himself whiplash trying to follow her back and forth moods, and his brow furrowed in sudden anger.

She was angry at him? Because he didn't trust some government agency that had lied to him right off the bat?

"Now listen here." Steve began, mouth opening as he prepared to give the woman a piece of his mind. She spun on her heel and walked away from him, the complete dismissal filling him with a sense of righteous indignation.

The blond followed her to the large SUV, glowering as she continued ignoring him.

"You can't just—" He began, only to have her open the door and slide to the far side.

"I'm sorry, the agent you're trying to reach is not listening to you right now. If you would like to finish this conversation, you can a) get in the car and come back to base or b) kiss my happy ass because I just chased after you down a filthy street barefoot and in a skirt."

He should have just walked away. It was the smart thing to do, it was obvious that she was doing this intentionally to rile him up, but if he walked away it would mean forfeiting the argument. Steve had done that before, he knew how to pick his battles contrary to popular belief, but there was something so utterly infuriating about the woman that he couldn't walk away.

Before he had time to think better he was sitting beside her.

Steve saw Fury's fleeting smirk as he positioned himself in the driver's seat, a nod causing the rest of the agents to spring into motion and return to their own vehicles. Whereas the one eyed man had managed to school his features back into an expressionless mask, sitting beside him Nicole was quite obviously pleased with herself. He didn't need to be a genius to know that he had been played by the woman, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Allow me to apologize for my words, Captain. I'm not actually that big of a jerk, honestly." She murmured, her words kind like they had been when he had first woken up. It was disarming, how easily she switched between emotions, and it made him nervous.

Was she being sincere? Could he trust her?

She was Dum Dum's granddaughter, sure, but that didn't necessarily mean much. If Fury was to be believed however, his friend had helped found the organization she worked for. Did that mean they could be trusted? A lot had changed over the years, and as he sat in the vehicle he let that information sink in.

He had been asleep for seventy years. Seventy years of his life gone, the world passing him by, in what had only felt like minutes. It was a terrifying thought to know that he had just been lying there, as peaceful as though he was taking a nap, and all that time had gone by.

It was enough to make his brain want to explode.

"Who else founded SHIELD?" He needed to distance himself from that line of thinking, there would be time to process that later.

"Howard Stark, Colonel Phillips, and Peggy Carter." Nicole answered beside him, her eyes turned outward to watch the scenery go by. He hadn't thought that he'd ran this far from the base, and was slightly impressed that it had only taken her a few minutes to catch up with him. "Grandpa didn't exactly help found the organization per se, but he was one of the earliest members."

The building that they pulled up to looked surprisingly like a bank—it was The Bank, as Nicole explained as she climbed out of her seat—and this time they weren't going in through the front door. Instead the vehicles—all neatly in a line—pulled into the garage right below the building.

"Captain, if you would accompany me to the SHIELD medical facilities, we need to get our doctors to check you out. We can do a full debriefing there." Fury offered with a sweeping gesture to the elevator doors. Agent Dugan was already waiting inside, hands clasped behind her back in a full parade rest fashion.

A closed metal box? Perfect for an ambush, even if it was going to be only the three of them. He didn't know if he trusted it.

"I don't bite, Cap." Nicole smirked, a knowing expression on her face. "Much."

The almost predatory look in her eyes made his face flush with color, and he bowed his head as he ducked inside of the elevator. He missed the look that Fury gave the woman, missed the responding shrug of her shoulders as she suddenly became very interested in her nails. The button for the fourth floor was already lit up, causing Steve to arch a curious brow when Fury leaned forward to hit the button for the ninth.

"Agent Dugan will not be accompanying us, Captain. Your debriefing will be completely private." The man explained at that. Steve wasn't sure why he felt so relieved by that small tidbit of information but he was.

"Nope, I'm going to change out of these god awful clothes." The redhead agreed, arms splaying out wide behind her to grasp the elevator railing as the pulleys jerked into motion and they went flying upwards. The elevator ride lasted only a few seconds before a tinny voice announced the fourth floor. Nicole stepped through the entryway, pausing slightly when the Director reached out to stop the doors from shutting.

"Agent Dugan, I will be seeing you in my office. We need to have a discussion." The man informed her, his words incredibly stern. Her face lost a few shades of color at that before she nodded briskly.

"Understood, Sir." Seemingly satisfied Fury leaned back with a much more relaxed poise. The silence stretched between them, awkward and unsure on his behalf but comfortable for the other man. Steve was considering how best to break it when the voice came again, and they reached the ninth floor.

"This way, Captain." Fury took a left, a right, and then another left. This was a different floor than the one he had been on when he'd woken up; he hadn't needed to take the stairs to get out the main door. The fact that this was somewhere completely new was evidenced by the change in wardrobe. There were still agents in black from time to time, but they either wore armored uniforms, or black under suits. The majority of the individuals on this floor were wearing scrubs or white coats though.

"Dr. Maurer." A tall, lanky figure looked up from a battered brown clipboard and back down before doing an obvious double take. Mossy green eyes widened in astonishment as they took in Steve's figure, and he immediately felt uncomfortable.

"O—of course Director. Right this way."

IOI

If there was one thing that Steven Rogers could claim with utter surety in his life, it was that he absolutely hated hospitals. Whether it was an actual building, an army medical tent, or just a medical bay such as this one, he hated them all. They brought back uncomfortable memories of a scrawny kid who could barely manage to draw in a breath between body wracking coughs. Memories of his mother, looking almost as thin, and so much more tired as she would smile reassuringly at him and smooth down his hair.

And as he leaned down over the bed he'd been forced onto, deftly lacing up his boot strings, he couldn't help but lament upon the fact that he could never seem to get away from the places.

"We have living quarters set up for you Captain, an apartment in Brooklyn. Everything has already been furnished, clothes and everything. SHIELD is in the process of looking into your finances and getting your personal documents squared away. You've more than earned quite a bit of back pay while you were on the ice." Fury was listlessly flipping through his file, everything about his posture claiming disinterest, though Steve suspected that the man was picking up every single minute detail.

"That's… great." He shrugged, a frown on pinching at his lips as he jerked the other boot back on. "When can I get back into the field?"

He wanted to work, he wanted to do… something more than Fury's prescribed rest and relaxation. The doctor said that he would probably need time to adjust, both physically and mentally to everything that had changed, but he didn't think he would be able to stand going from an active warzone to having nothing to do. Not when everything had changed so much.

"Well, now that depends on a lot of things Captain. Right now we need you to focus on getting brought up to speed. On coming to terms with everything that has changed over your time spent under. You've also more than deserved a bit of vacation time, but if you really do want to jump right back into the midst of things… you'll have several sessions with a SHIELD therapist, as well as a certified historian. Both of these people are going to do their absolute best to get your head back into top shape." Fury answered, making him grimace.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't need to see a therapist. My head is fine." Fury snapped the file closed, the sudden noise loud enough to startle his gaze upwards. The impartiallook was gone, wiped clean from features that were now watching him in a manner that was reminisce of Colonel Phillips. It was a look that was telling him to shut up and listen.

"Captain, you were frozen for seventy years. Now it might not feel like that to you right now, but at some point that knowledge is going to hit you. And when it does I don't want it to be while you're in the middle of a mission. So you will be required to visit a therapist, and until that therapist deems you fit for active duty, you will need to adjust to civilian life." Steve wanted to argue, god he wanted to argue, but he recognized when he was receiving a direct order.

Still, a small part of him wanted to tell Fury exactly where he could stick his therapist and just go off on his own. Steve Rogers wasn't a person who had ever particularly enjoyed asking for help, and chose to avoid it as often as he could. But… these were extraordinary circumstances.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to get a little bit of help adjusting to the 21st century.

"Understood, sir." There was nobody telling him that he had to like it though.

Fury studied his features for a second, his one eye sweeping over with such clarity that it felt as though he were being spread out on a dissection table. Did he have that effect on everybody?

"I'm glad you're willing to cooperate Captain. Now, you will be living with a SHIELD agent, until you get better adjusted at least. This agent will be your liaison to SHIELD; anything you need from us, you can go to them for. If you'd like, the relationship can remain purely professional but I hope you'll recognize the potential for friendship here." He took a step back when Steve dropped from the bed and onto his feet, straightening up to his full height of 6'2" with a scowl on his face.

"So I'm getting a babysitter." Fury inclined his head slightly at that, the barest of shrugs.

"If that's how you want to look at it, yeah." There was a slight rustle of the curtains behind him.

"And how else would you have me look at it?" He demanded, arms crossing obstinately.

Fury had the expression of a man who had seen that look before, many times before, and couldn't be bothered to give a single damn. "I would prefer you think of it as having a friend, Captain. Someone who is looking out for your best interests and doesn't want to see you getting hurt."

"A babysitter." Aware of the fact that he was actually beginning to sound like a petulant child, Steve pushed back the stubborn part of him that was demanding he continue to argue. "Who is this agent?"

When the curtains shifted to reveal the agent he assumed would be his new housemate, his jaw dropped, as did his stomach.

"Try not to look so scandalized, Captain." Nicole Dugan smirked, coming to stand beside Director Fury. Had it not been for the features of her face, he probably would never have recognized her. She was dressed almost entirely in black from her long-sleeved shirt to the dark calf high boots and everything in between, looking much more comfortable than she had in the skirt and heels. The clothing changed her entire posture as well; Nicole stood with a professionally deadly air; the hand on her hip said that she was unconcerned with her surroundings but the wide stance and tension told a different story. The woman was ready to strike at a moment's notice.

But what he was really confused by was her hair. She had gotten it all hacked off from a length that had gone down her back, to where the longest strand barely grazed past her cheek. Half of it was shaved, and the rest was swept to the left, where the strands were perfectly straight and… purple. A bright shade of royal purple.

"Sir?" He turned to Fury for confirmation, the man looked as though he had seen this all before, and Steve wondered if anything ever phased him.

"We figured that with her history with you, Agent Dugan would be the most opportune choice." She flashed him her most winning smile then, but Steve was not moved by it. This wasn't right; he couldn't just move in with a woman…

Nicole followed the expression on her face, the smile dropping and her features turning very serious. "Captain Rogers, eh, Steve, I need you to level with me here."

It was an odd turn of phrase, but something about her expression had him inclining his head ever so slightly towards her. "It ain't right."

"Sir, I am aware of the… social norms of your time but I assure you that it is quite common for a man and a woman to live together when they don't have any relations. And while that may seem very odd to you, there are practical reasons as to why this arrangement has been decided upon." She paused, sharing a look with her boss and only continuing after his slight nod. "The truth of the matter is Captain, you're a strong guy. One who's been through a hell of a lot these past few… years? And while you may not intentionally mean to harm anyone, should that occur I have the best chance of stopping you."

He gave her a skeptical look; she may have been an agent of this SHIELD organization, she may have been Dum Dum's granddaughter, but Nicole Dugan didn't look particularly threatening. She was also very human, and Steve could splinter a tree just by punching it, let alone a human. So the thought that this girl could handle him in a fight, especially if it was one he was really trying in…

"You'll have to pardon my skepticism." He snorted, causing her to narrow her eyes.

"Fine," Nicole shrugged, "So long as you'll pardon me for kicking your blonde ass if it comes to it."

Fury had a look on his face, one that said he was wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into with this.