The cold Artic breeze blew through Steve's face as he winced through the pain the breeze gave him. The plane he was flying was moving rapidly, it was headed straight toward New York City. Loaded with bombs that could kill a whole entire race in hours. The thought haunted Steve as he tried his best to think of plan to get rid of the bombs.

 "Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?" He called into the speaker.

 A male voice responded, only to be interrupted by a voice he knew too well.

 "Captain Rogers, what is your—"

 "Steve, is that you? Are you alright?"

 Hearing Peggy's voice sent a wave of relief over Steve. But he couldn't rest yet.

 "Peggy, Schmidt's dead!"

 "What about the plane?"

 He bit his lip as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation he was in.

 "That's a little bit tougher to explain."

 "Give your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site."

 He noticed Peggy's tone, desperate and worried. A tone Steve never heard from the fearless Peggy Carter.

 "There's not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

 Steve couldn't just land anywhere. The bombs were dangerous and needed to be destroyed one way or the other. And Steve was the one to do it.

 "I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do."

 "There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

 The words sounded bitter to Steve as he spoke them. But it was the only way for the safety of the people. He didn't want to be selfish and just land the plane. He wasn't made for that, there was more he needed to do.

 "Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out."

 There was no time; the plane was halfway through the world. Time was running out fast. He knew the idea was a life or death decision, which meant never seeing Peggy again, but Steve knew it was the right thing to do.

 "Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice."

 He took out his compass out of his suit pocket. Inside, was his only image of Peggy. His eyes looked at the black and white photo, her brown curls that complimented her red lips. Steve held the plane controller tight and steered the plane toward the Artic water.

 "Peggy?"

 "I'm here."

 "I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."

 A small smile crept on Steve's face as he pictured them dancing together, laughing and having a good time. If only the moment would become real, come into reality.

 "All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

 "You got it."

 His heart was beating rapidly as the plane grew closer to the ice. With all his heart, he wished there was some way he could see Peggy again. To feel her soft brown curls and red lips.

 "8:00 on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

 Her tone was demanding, a normal thing for Peggy. It took him awhile to respond back, trying his best to uplift the mood.

 "You know, I still don't know how to dance."

 "I'll show you how. Just be there."

 The plane ride grew rocky due to the harsh Artic air. Steve took in a deep breath as he responded.

 "We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your—"

 Steve jumped up from his bed, realizing where he was. He wasn't in the plane, exchanging his last words with Peggy before going into the Artic. All of that passed the experience happened seventy years ago. He ran his hand through his blonde hair as he opened the curtains to his room. The world he had saved was different now. He wasn't sure how he was going to update to the lifestyle of the newer world. His stomach let out a small growl as he walked around his apartment. Only to have met Grace, she managed to get him a place to stay. She was his only friend now, and he didn't want to rely on her too much.

 He knew this wasn't going to be a very easy adjustment, being asleep for seventy years has its perks. Steve felt a bit homesick; longing for the world he knew and loved. Most importantly, he wanted to see Peggy. He often wondered if Peggy ever got married to another man. The man would be Howard, the famous Howard Stark. The thought seemed bitter to Steve, knowing that Howard was a good friend of his. But the past has been done, and there was nothing Steve can do about it.

 He thought of walking around the city again, continuing his sightseeing. Before he left his apartment room, he dressed himself in the clothes he bought the day before. His mind thought of Grace again, her actions toward him. She acted differently than most ladies Steve known. Possibly, that was the way women acted these days. She was very amusing, the way she panicked when her hot chocolate spilled on him. Quite a character, Steve thought.

 The weather was cold, like the day before. Steve didn't mind as he rubbed the sleeves of his leather jacket. The tall buildings were very intimidating, as he walked around the Brooklyn block. He wanted to find a way to travel into the city but was too afraid to grab a taxi cab. He gathered all his courage as the car stopped aside him. Before stepping into the car, he made sure he had some money to pay the driver. During the drive, a tall building he had passed by caught his eye. He asked the drive politely to drop him off near the building.

 "Thanks." He thanked.

 The driver gave him a nod as Steve handed him the money. He was amazed by the building and his curiosity was killing him. One look wouldn't harm anyone. Steve just wanted to look to see what was inside. Inside, was a huge room filled with people typing on some strange box. He felt out of place, as people start to notice his presence. Before leaving, he spotted a brown haired woman near one of the strange boxes. The woman looked familiar to Steve as she turned to his direction.

 Grace.

 She smiled brightly and started walking toward him.

 "Hi, what are you doing here?" Steve asked.

 "I work here, what are you doing here?" She responded.

 Steve didn't know what to say as he continued to look around the room. What job was this? Why were people typing on small boxes? Grace noticed his confusion and directed him to one of the desks.

 "Steve, this is called a computer. It's like a type writer in a way, but more advanced."

 The woman by the desk looked up at Grace in confusion. She then turned to Steve and raised her brow before looking down at the "computer". The description still didn't make any sense to Steve. He thought of it has a typewriter with some sort of a screen attached to it. He watched Grace grab several papers and arranging them into her bag. She then led him outside the building, out in the cold New York air. She looked different, her attire looked more professional.

 "What-what... What do you do?"

 "I'm a journalist. I write stories for the New York Times."

 "Ah, I see."

 "Did you get a good night sleep? How's the place working out for you?"

 Steve smiled weakly, "It's not too bad. I really would like to thank you for that."

 Grace returned his smile, "It's no problem."

 Interrupting their conversation, a man burst in between them, almost knocking Grace off her feet. Without hesitation, Steve quickly grabbed Grace before she hit the ground. Instead of a relaxed look Steve was looking for, Grace's face was in panic. He looked down, and saw something was missing from her arms. The man who caused the accident was running off in full speed with Grace's purse. Steve started to run after the man, leaving Grace behind. His adrenaline kicked in and he felt his body releasing some of the energy. This reminded him of the time when he chased after the HYDRA spy that killed Dr. Erskine. There he was, chasing after another criminal. With all his strength, he grabbed the collar of the man. The man seemed to be shocked that Steve managed to catch up to him.

 He threw the man on the ground, his eyes searching for Grace's purse. The man lay motionless on the cold ground as Steve searched. Police sirens started to sound as many of them arrived at the scene. Grace appeared in one of the cars, rushing over Steve. He remained silent as the police gathered the criminal, handing Grace her purse afterwards.

 "Thank you. Before we go, sir, what's your name?"

 "Steve Rogers."

 "Thank you Steve."

 The past was happening all over again. His mind was full of different thoughts on the incident. Steve knew one thing for sure; he was wide awake to the world. Seventy years of sleep, that's enough for a man. 

A/N : I'm sorry if this chapter is really bad, I honestly had not idea what to do with this chapter, I promise the next chapter will be better. Thanks for putting up with me guys . (: