The Arctic was brutally cold.
Even with the military-grade cold-weather gear SHIELD had provided, I could feel the temperature biting through every layer. The wind cut like knives, and visibility was limited by constant snow flurries.
We'd established a base camp two miles from the excavation site—a collection of heated tents, equipment shelters, and the massive drilling rigs needed to extract the Valkyrie from seventy years of accumulated ice.
"Temperature's holding at negative forty," one of the engineers reported. "We're making good progress on the ice removal, but we need to be careful. If Rogers is alive in there, we can't risk damaging him with the extraction process."
I stood in the command tent with Coulson and Barton, watching drone footage of the excavation on monitors. The Valkyrie was massive—Howard Stark's flying wing, frozen mid-crash, a testament to Steve Rogers' final mission.
"How long until we can access the interior?" Coulson asked.
"Another eight hours minimum. The ice around the cockpit is particularly dense. We're using thermal drills to avoid structural damage."
"Keep working. I want Rogers extracted as soon as safely possible."
Barton looked at me. "You ready for this? If he's alive, if we wake him up, it's going to be chaos. Man's been frozen since 1945. Everything he knew is gone."
"I'm ready. Done research on temporal displacement trauma, adjustment protocols, psychological first response. I'm as prepared as I can be."
"Good. Because no pressure, but you're talking down a super-soldier who might wake up thinking he's still at war with HYDRA."
"No pressure at all."
The next eight hours were tense. I reviewed everything I knew about Steve Rogers—his history, his personality, his relationships. The man who became Captain America was motivated by duty, loyalty, and an unshakeable moral compass. He'd sacrificed himself to save millions.
If he was alive, if we woke him, he deserved respect and compassion, not just clinical assessment.
"We've reached the cockpit!" came the call over the radio. "Preparing for interior access!"
Everyone in the command tent rushed to the monitors. The drone cameras showed engineers carefully removing the final layers of ice, revealing the Valkyrie's cockpit.
And there, still strapped in his seat, covered in frost but remarkably preserved, was Captain America.
Steve Rogers.
He looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. The shield was beside him, that iconic vibranium disk that had become a symbol of heroism.
"Life signs?" Fury's voice came through from SHIELD headquarters.
"Scanning now," the medical officer on-site responded. "This is... this is incredible. I'm picking up a heartbeat. Faint, but there. Body temperature is near freezing, but there's metabolic activity. The super-soldier serum—it's kept him alive. In some kind of hibernation state."
"Can we revive him?" Fury asked.
"Theoretically, yes. But we need to do this carefully. Controlled warming, medical monitoring, ready to intervene if his system goes into shock. We're talking about a man who's been frozen for seventy years."
"Get him extracted. Transport to the medical facility immediately. Carter, you're on the first contact team. If he wakes up hostile, you talk him down."
"Understood."
They extracted Steve Rogers with extreme care, the entire process taking another four hours. He was transported to the medical facility we'd set up—a heated, sterile environment where doctors could work without risking his exposure to extreme temperature changes.
I watched through observation windows as they began the warming process. Heated blankets, IV fluids, careful monitoring of every vital sign. It was delicate work, balancing the need to revive him with the risk of shocking his system.
"His core temperature is rising," a doctor reported. "Heart rate increasing. Brain activity showing on EEG. He's... he's coming back."
"Prepare sedatives," the head physician ordered. "If he wakes up panicked, we need to keep him calm until orientation."
"Sedatives might not work on the super-soldier serum," I pointed out. "And restraining him could make things worse. Let me try talking to him first."
The doctor looked skeptical but nodded. "Fine. But stay back until we confirm he's not hostile."
Steve Rogers' eyes opened.
For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, confused and disoriented. Then awareness hit, and he bolted upright, ripping the IV from his arm, looking around with the alertness of a soldier expecting attack.
"Captain Rogers," I said calmly, staying visible but not approaching. "My name is Alex Carter. You're safe. You're in a medical facility."
His eyes locked on me, assessing for threats. "Where am I? Where's—" He looked around frantically. "The plane. I crashed the plane. Where's—"
"You did crash the plane, Captain. In 1945. You've been in the ice for a long time. We're here to help."
"1945?" His expression showed confusion, then alarm. "What year is it?"
I took a breath. This was the moment. "It's 2011, Captain Rogers. You've been frozen for sixty-six years."
The words hung in the air. I watched as Steve processed them, his face cycling through disbelief, shock, and finally, dawning horror.
"No. That's not—that can't be—"
"I know it sounds impossible. But it's true. The super-soldier serum kept you alive in a state of suspended animation. We found you three days ago and revived you."
He stood, unsteady but trying to maintain composure. "Peggy. I need to find Peggy. And Bucky, the Howling Commandos—"
"Captain Rogers, I need you to listen to me." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "I know this is overwhelming. I know you have people you care about, people you need to know about. But right now, you need to focus on staying calm and letting us help you."
═══════════════════════════════════════
[Crisis Management - Active]
[Emotional Support - Active]
[Smooth Talker - Active]
CP Cost: -70
Steve Rogers Status:
Extreme disorientation
Identity crisis
Grief response imminent
Super-soldier physiology (enhanced emotional regulation)
Core personality: Duty-focused, needs purpose
Approach:
Acknowledge his feelings
Provide structure and purpose
Give him agency and choices
Be honest about losses (but gradually)
Success Probability: 71%
═══════════════════════════════════════
"You're telling me everyone I knew is dead or old," Steve said, his voice strained. "That I've been gone for seventy years. That the world moved on without me."
"Yes. And I'm sorry. That's the hardest truth you'll face." I took a step closer, carefully. "But you're not alone in this. There are people here who want to help. Who understand what you've sacrificed."
"Understand?" His laugh was bitter. "How could anyone understand?"
"You're right. We can't fully understand. But we can support you through this. Help you adjust, give you time to process." I met his eyes. "Captain Rogers—Steve—you saved millions of lives when you crashed that plane. You're a hero. That doesn't change just because time passed."
He was quiet for a long moment, visibly struggling with emotions. "I had a date. With Peggy. We were supposed to—" His voice broke. "She's gone, isn't she?"
"I don't know her current status," I said honestly. "But yes, if she's still alive, she'd be in her nineties now. I'm sorry."
Steve sat back down heavily, the weight of reality crushing him. For a moment, he just looked like a lost young man, not a super-soldier or a legend.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked quietly.
"Right now? Take it one moment at a time. Get your bearings, let the medical team make sure you're healthy, and then we'll figure out next steps together." I pulled over a chair, sitting at a respectful distance. "You don't have to face this alone, Steve. That's what I'm here for. To help you adjust, answer questions, be a friendly face in all this chaos."
"Why would you do that? You don't know me."
"No, but I know about you. I know what you did, what you sacrificed. And I know that heroism shouldn't be rewarded with isolation and confusion." I smiled slightly. "Plus, it's literally my job. I'm a consultant for SHIELD—the organization that found you. I specialize in helping people through impossible situations."
"SHIELD?"
"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. It's... complicated. I'll explain more later. For now, just know they're the good guys. They found you, brought you back, and they want to help."
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll trust you, Alex Carter. For now."
"That's all I ask."
The next few hours were delicate. Medical tests confirmed Steve was in remarkable health—the serum had not only kept him alive but maintained his body perfectly. Physically, he was the same man who'd crashed into the Arctic in 1945.
Mentally and emotionally was another matter.
I stayed with him through the examinations, providing a consistent presence. Coulson briefed him on the basics—the world situation, major historical events, technology advances. It was overwhelming, and I could see Steve struggling to process it all.
"The Soviet Union collapsed," Steve repeated, disbelief evident. "We won the Cold War?"
"Eventually, yes. Though 'won' is complicated. The world's different now, Captain. Not necessarily better or worse, just... different."
"And HYDRA?"
"Thought to be defeated after the war. But SHIELD maintains vigilance." I exchanged a look with Coulson, both of us knowing the truth about HYDRA's infiltration that wouldn't be revealed for another few years. "The fight for freedom continues, just in different forms."
Steve absorbed this, then asked the question I'd been dreading. "What about the Howling Commandos? Bucky Barnes? Did any of them make it?"
Coulson pulled up files. "Most of them lived full lives after the war. Dum Dum Dugan died in 1975. Jim Morita lived until 2003. Gabe Jones passed just last year at the age of ninety-two. They were heroes, Steve. They never forgot you."
"And Bucky?"
"Sergeant James Barnes was killed in action in 1945. Before your final mission. I'm sorry, Captain."
Steve's face showed old grief resurfacing. He'd known, of course. But hearing it confirmed after waking up made it fresh again.
"He was my best friend. Since we were kids."
"I know. And I'm sorry you're having to grieve all over again."
We sat in silence for a moment, letting him process.
"What about Peggy?" Steve finally asked. "Agent Carter?"
Coulson hesitated, then pulled up a recent photo. An elderly woman, still elegant despite her age, in a wheelchair at what looked like a SHIELD ceremony.
"Margaret Carter, now Director Carter, retired. She's ninety-one, living in London. She founded SHIELD alongside Howard Stark after the war. Spent her life continuing the mission you started."
Steve stared at the photo, emotions playing across his face. "She's alive."
"Yes. And I'm sure she'd want to see you. When you're ready."
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that." He looked at me. "How do you come back from being dead? How do I face her after all this time?"
"Carefully. Honestly. And knowing that she's probably been grieving you for seventy years. Seeing you alive will be a shock, but a good one."
"Maybe." He stood, restless energy needing an outlet. "I need to move. Need to do something. Sitting here thinking about everything I've lost is..." He shook his head. "I need a purpose. A mission."
═══════════════════════════════════════
RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED
Steve Rogers (Captain America)
Affection : 35/100 [Respectful Trust]
Status : Grateful for support, tentatively trusting
Type : Fellow hero, Avenger candidate
Notes:
You handled his revival well
He appreciates your honesty and respect
Sees you as stable presence in chaos
Will likely lean on you during adjustment period
Core Avenger relationship established
Progress Notes:
Successfully prevented hostile reaction
Provided emotional support during crisis
Established yourself as trustworthy ally
Seeds planted for genuine friendship
═══════════════════════════════════════
"That can be arranged," Coulson said. "SHIELD has plenty of missions that could use a super-soldier. But Captain, I'd recommend taking at least a few days to adjust. See the world as it is now, process the changes, before jumping back into combat."
"I've been asleep for seventy years. I don't need more rest." Steve's voice was firm. "What I need is to be useful. To fight for something again."
"Then we'll find you something to fight for," Fury's voice came from the doorway. He'd arrived while we were talking, his one eye assessing Steve with tactical interest. "Captain Rogers. Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. Your country thought you were dead. Turned out they were wrong. Welcome back."
Steve straightened instinctively at the authoritative presence. "Director. Thank you for bringing me back."
"Don't thank me yet. The world you woke up to is complicated, dangerous, and in need of heroes." Fury stepped closer. "We've been working on something. Called it the Avengers Initiative. A response team for threats beyond normal capability. You're at the top of my recruitment list."
"Avengers?"
"Heroes. Enhanced individuals. Exceptional operatives. Bringing them together to protect the world from threats too big for conventional forces." Fury pulled up a holographic display showing images—Tony Stark in the Iron Man suit, Thor wielding Mjolnir, Bruce Banner's file marked "HULK."
"Earth's Mightiest Heroes," Steve said softly, recognizing the concept. "That was always the plan. Howard talked about it once. A team for the impossible missions."
"Exactly. And I want you leading it, Captain. Once you're ready."
Steve looked at the display, at the faces of people he didn't know yet, and I saw something shift in his expression. Purpose. Direction. A reason to exist in this strange new world.
"Tell me about them," he said. "Tell me about these Avengers."
The next week was intensive.
Steve was given quarters at SHIELD headquarters—comfortable but spartan, which seemed to suit him. I was assigned as his primary adjustment consultant, helping him navigate the 21st century.
We started with the basics. Technology—smartphones, computers, the internet. Modern culture—music, movies, social norms. History—the major events he'd missed, the wars, the changes, the progress and setbacks.
"It's overwhelming," Steve admitted one evening. We were in his quarters, going through news articles on a tablet. "The world moved so fast. I feel like I'm constantly playing catch-up."
"You don't have to learn everything at once. Take your time. Ask questions. It's okay not to understand everything immediately."
"When did you become such an expert on helping people adjust to impossible situations?"
"Practice. I've talked down people manifesting superpowers, evacuated a town during a robot attack, and helped a Norse god deal with losing his worthiness. You're actually one of my more straightforward cases."
He smiled slightly—the first real smile I'd seen from him. "I suppose being frozen for seventy years is pretty straightforward compared to robot attacks."
"Exactly. You're just dealing with temporal displacement. Easy."
The smile faded. "I had dreams while I was frozen. Or maybe memories, I don't know. Peggy, Bucky, the war. It felt real, but wrong. Like watching a movie of my life from the outside."
"That sounds disorienting."
"It was. Still is." He looked at me. "Thank you, by the way. For being here. For helping with all this. You didn't have to be patient with all my questions about modern life."
"It's literally my job. But also, you deserve support. You gave up everything for your country. The least we can do is help you adjust."
═══════════════════════════════════════
RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT
Steve Rogers
Affection : 35 → 52/100 [Friend - Trusted Ally]
Status : Genuinely grateful, forming friendship
Trust Level : 65/100 (High)
Progress Notes:
Week of intensive support built solid foundation
He sees you as stable, trustworthy presence
Appreciates your patience and honesty
Beginning to open up emotionally
Likely to be long-term friend and ally
Note: Steve Rogers doesn't trust easily, but once he does, it's absolute. You're building something genuine here.
═══════════════════════════════════════
By the end of the week, Steve was functional if not comfortable. He could navigate a smartphone (grudgingly), understood the basics of modern technology, and had begun physical training to test his abilities after the long freeze.
"The serum's still working perfectly," he reported after a session with SHIELD trainers. "I'm as strong and fast as I was before. Maybe faster—they didn't have equipment this precise in the forties to measure everything."
"That's good news. Means you're ready for active duty when you feel prepared."
"About that." Steve paused. "Director Fury mentioned the Avengers Initiative. Bringing together exceptional individuals for major threats. He wants me to lead eventually."
"And what do you think about that?"
"I think I need to meet these people first. Understand who they are, what they're capable of. Can't lead a team I don't know." He looked at me. "Fury said you work with some of them. Tony Stark, Thor. What are they like?"
"Tony's brilliant and complicated. He's got an ego the size of Manhattan, but he uses his genius to protect people. Thor's... well, he's a god, but he's learning humility and genuine heroism. Both are good men under the surface, even if they don't always show it."
"And you trust them?"
"With my life. They've proven themselves when it counts."
Steve nodded slowly. "Then I'll trust your judgment. For now. But I'll make my own assessment when I meet them."
"That's fair. Trust should be earned, not assumed."
It was mid-February when Natasha finally returned from Moscow.
I met her at the SHIELD facility, and she practically tackled me in the hallway, kissing me deeply despite the professional setting.
"Three weeks," she muttered against my lips. "Three weeks without seeing you. That's too long."
"Agreed. But you're back now."
"And you've been busy. Coulson briefed me. Captain America? Alex, you've been helping Captain America adjust to the 21st century?"
"Someone had to. And apparently, I'm good at helping people through impossible situations."
"You are. But still." She pulled back to look at me properly. "How is he? The reports say he's adjusting well, but reports don't tell everything."
"He's struggling but coping. Lost everyone he knew, woke up in a world he doesn't understand. But he's strong. Resilient. He'll be okay eventually."
"Has Fury approached him about the Avengers?"
"Yes. Steve's interested but cautious. Wants to meet the team before committing."
"Smart. I'd be the same way." She took my hand. "Come on. Let's go home. I want to hear everything, and I've missed your apartment."
"Missed my apartment or missed me?"
"Both. But mostly you."
Back at my place, we settled into familiar comfort. I told her about Steve—the careful revival, the emotional support, the week of intensive adjustment. She listened with her typical sharp attention, asking questions, assessing the situation.
"You've done well with him," she said finally. "Building trust with Steve Rogers isn't easy. The man's been betrayed and lost too much to trust quickly. But he clearly trusts you."
"I try to be trustworthy."
"You are. It's one of your best qualities." She was quiet for a moment. "Fury's going to activate the Avengers soon. Within the next few months. When he does, things are going to get complicated. Dangerous."
"I know. But we'll handle it. Together."
"Together," she agreed, curling closer. "I like the sound of that."
We spent the evening reconnecting, and for a few hours, the complications of gods, super-soldiers, and world-ending threats faded away. It was just us, normal, together.
Exactly what we both needed.