Steve sat on his couch watching Airplane!, one of Becca's favorite movies, and scratching Sandy's belly as the dog lounged contentedly with her head in his lap.

"Surely you can't be serious?" said Ted on the screen.

"I am serious," Becca quoted along with the doctor. "And don't call me Shirley." Then, she laughed. The line cracked her up good every time.

Of course, Becca wasn't really in the apartment with him. Steve had no idea where she was. She had been MIA for over five months, ever since Thanos had transported her into the future. If that's what had really happened, which wasn't a certainty. But judging from the mad titan's words and the orange glow which had surrounded Becca before she disappeared, he was almost sure.

The second month had been the hardest. Most people would probably think it'd be the first month, but Steve had been so busy between attempting to find a way to get to Becca without using the Time Stone and helping rebuild New York that he didn't have time to be alone with his thoughts. But when Tony and Bruce hadn't been able to make progress with any of the data they'd managed to collect on the Stones before the Infinity Watch had hidden them, and with Thor and Dr. Strange no longer alive to offer assistance in the understanding of other realms and magics that might explain time travel, Steve was left without any leads.

He had tried to fill up his days and nights with work, staying on construction sites long after crews had gone home, until finally Bucky had dragged him away. They had fought – Steve throwing several punches he soon after regretted – but in the end, he agreed not to push himself past his limits anymore. He agreed because Bucky reminded him that he would be no good to Becca like this, and also because Bucky had seemed worried.

However, when Steve was alone in the apartment, he was reminded that Becca should be there with him. He had started packing away her things, just so he wouldn't have to look at them, but it felt too much like he was moving on and forgetting about her. He wasn't ready to forget. He wasn't giving up. She was his wife, and Thanos had gone after her because of him. He would bring her home.

A knock sounded on the front door. Steve paused the movie. The heavy thud of metal on wood was familiar, so he opened the door without concern about who was on the other side. He got up from the couch, glad as usual to see Bucky. The apartment felt less empty when he visited. Even Sandy gave a happy bark when Steve opened the door, and butted her head against Bucky's leg to be petted.

But when Steve saw Bucky's expression, the lighthearted ribbing that had popped immediately to mind died on his tongue. Bucky looked grim, a frown carved so deeply into his face that Steve wouldn't have believed him capable of smiling if he hadn't seen it plenty of times. There was a sadness there as well, haunting his wide blue eyes. He was standing straight, too straight, like those time back when he had still be overwhelmed by his past but wanted to convince Steve otherwise.

"What's wrong?" Steve questioned, holding the door wide so Bucky could come inside.

Instead, Bucky tilted his head back toward the hallway. "Come on." He patted Sandy's head once and turned without further comment, expecting Steve to follow.

Which Steve did, grabbing his jacket, locking the apartment, and hurrying to catch up. "What happened?"

Bucky shook his head, jamming a finger against the elevator button. He was holding two bouquets of roses, which puzzled Steve.

"Where are we going?"

"Green-Wood," Bucky answered dully.

Visiting the Brooklyn cemetery would explain Bucky's mood and the flowers. They had already gone to a funeral there after the battle with Thanos to bury one of his nephews and three grand-nieces. Steve wondered if Becky had finally passed on. She had been fighting a losing battle with cancer when last he'd heard.

Steve asked, "Who is it?" but Bucky only shook his head again. If he didn't want to talk, Steve wasn't going to make him. He put a hand on Bucky's shoulder to give him some kind of support. Bucky winced like the touch had hurt him, but he didn't move away.

The ride over to Green-Wood Cemetery took longer than it would've before the war. There was still so much work to be done around the city. Whole neighborhoods had be destroyed, parts of the subway system collapsed, streets unsafe for buses to drive on. Bucky didn't say a word the whole way, and Steve kept an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

They walked through the gates of the cemetery, Steve following Bucky's lead until he stopped in front of a gravestone. It looked much like the other gravestones in the line, polished grey, rounded top. The inscription was simple. Rebecca Read. February 5, 2013. Beloved friend.

Although Steve didn't recognize the name, he accepted the bouquet Bucky offered and laid it before the gravestone. Bucky stared at the name for a long moment, until Steve lightly rubbed his arm, at which point he braced himself and pulled a manila envelope out from his jacket. From inside, he took out another envelope, this one letter sized, and held it out.

His name was on the front, and it was in Becca's handwriting. Steve snatched the envelope from Bucky's hand. He flipped the envelope over, excitement flooding through him. On the back was written "To be delivered June 2017." The envelope had already been opened, and he eagerly took out the letter and unfolded it.

Dear Steve,

I love you. I miss you. I've tried writing this letter way too many times, but it never ended up sounding right, especially the opening. So I finally decided that I should just start with what's the most important.

I'm sure you're wondering what happened to me after Thanos used the Infinity Stone. He sent me back to 1941. Crazy, right? It certainly seemed crazy to me at first. But by some small bit of luck he dropped me in the same city. I didn't know what was going on, but to get anywhere I knew I needed money. All I had worth anything was the engagement ring you bought me. I didn't want to give it up, but you convinced me that you wouldn't mind. You. Yes, I met you. We became friends, and then more than friends.

But of course, you don't remember any of this. That's my fault. There was a man I met from way, way in the future who could selectively wipe your memory by injecting a compound into your brain I was afraid that you knowing me would make the future different, that something bad would happen to the world, but mostly to me. You didn't want to get the operation, but we tricked you. It was selfish. It was wrong. I went to stop it, but I was too late. I'm not saying that means you shouldn't blame me. I just want you to know that I couldn't let that happen to you again. I guess this is me being selfish. I don't want you to think badly of me, but I know you have every right to feel betrayed. I also know you'll forgive me. Let yourself be angry first. Let yourself be sad. And then let me go.

I've lived a full life. Sure, there were times when I really wished I could go back, but I moved on. I worked in the library, and once the world finally figured out that women are good for more than staying behind the scenes and making babies, I was able to get back into advertising. I might've made a few well placed investments to ensure I wasn't broke. You're the love of my life of course, but I found love again. It never got serious, but I wasn't lonely. I found friends. I boarded with a family, and over the years the Legates sort of adopted me as the hip and totally awesome aunt. I'm content. I promise.

So don't waste time looking for me. What happened isn't your fault. You don't owe me anything. We had over four years together, and while they weren't the easiest four years, I still think of them fondly, and I hope you will, too. Don't let the name change fool you; I'm proud to be your wife. I will always be proud to be your wife, just as I know that you will always be proud to be my husband. But I give you permission to be proud to have someone else at your side. Maybe a metal-armed, blue-eyed dreamboat? Just saying. Be happy, Steve. That's all that I need you to do for me. Be happy. Oh, and take good care of my movie collection. You know it's my baby.

Love always,

Becca

Steve didn't remember meeting Becca in the time she had written about, but he did remember a procedure done on his brain with a scientist he hadn't seen before or since.

He knew immediately that he had to find her. He wasn't going to let Becca go no matter what she said. He had to at least see her and… and suddenly he remembered where he was. Becca had mentioned a name change.

"No," Steve wheezed, like he'd been punched in the gut. His brain scrambled for another explanation. Maybe the letter was fake. Someone could've forged it.

His fingers shifted against the letter, and the corner of what looked like a newspaper peaked out from behind. He placed it on top. The newspaper clipping had yellowed with age. From the size, this article wasn't a front page story, but it had a bold headline proclaiming "Miss America?" Beneath was a picture of him during his USO tour in which he and Becca were smiling at each other.

It was too much. The article proof with that smile of Becca's he loved so much. The letter, it sounded like Becca and the handwriting was a match. Steve knew the letter was real as surely as he knew why Bucky had brought him here.

Steve cried, tears falling on the letter before he tucked it safely back into its envelope. As he looked at Becca's gravestone, he sank to the ground. She should've come to him. She should've told him what would happen. He could've saved her. But now she was dead. He slammed a fist into the ground twice, tearing up grass, and felt immediately guilty for desecrating her grave.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, patting the grass back into place. "Hell, Becca I'm sorry."

Bucky was on the ground beside him, his eyes glassy. He wrapped a comforting arm around Steve's shoulders as Steve had done for him earlier. Steve leaned against him as he sobbed for Becca and the life they'd never have. He didn't know how long he cried. He stopped when there were no tears left.

After Steve had calmed, Bucky spoke to him quietly. "When the letter came to Stark Tower, Stark did a background check to be sure the letter was authentic. Looks like Becca managed to buy herself an identity, but it left traces he could follow. He explained when I ran into him, and I went to visit the family. The Legates. They had a lot of good to say. I think she really was happy."

Steve nodded. "Good."

"They made copies of some photographs. I don't know if you…"

Steve hesitated, unsure if he was ready to see Becca aged. It had been difficult visiting Peggy. But he decided, "I'd like to see them." He needed to see the proof that she was as content as she'd said.

From in the manila envelope, Bucky took out a stack of photos. The top one was black and white, Becca looking slightly older, face turned away from the camera setting a birthday cake in front of a group of children. Another photo in faint color, Becca one of many dancers. Another, Becca with a family – the Legates he assumed – on a picnic. Bucky explained the stories behind the photos, and Steve watched her grow older, lines forming on her face, skin beginning to sag, grey hairs appearing and being dyed away. And slowly, he got this strange feeling like…

Steve took the last and most recent photo from Bucky, which showed Becca on her hundredth birthday. And peering closely at the photo, he had a bittersweet realization.

Becca sat on the park bench, dreading the moment when she would have to stand up. Park benches were not made for people who had by some miracle managed to survive past one hundred. The wood was hard, and she'd been sitting her for hours every day for the past two months. She knew she had the year right – 2012 was burned in her memory as the year of the alien invasion – and the location, but she wasn't entirely sure of the month or day. Or she was pretty sure it'd been 2012. Her mind wasn't what it used to be.

Then, Becca saw him and her breath caught in her throat. It had been over 70 years, but Steve looked the same. Of course, he did. He'd been frozen in ice as most of her life went by. She instinctively patted her hair, but realized she was being ridiculous. She was an dumpy old lady. Older than him. God. He walked right past her without so much as a look, much to her disappointment. However, he sat on the bench next to hers and took out his sketchbook.

Although Becca had been waiting to see Steve – compelled by nostalgia or some need at the end of her life to finally put her past to rest – she remained unsure of whether or not to approach him. She hadn't approached anyone so far. Not her family, whose house Becca had parked across the street from years ago to watch until someone knocked on her window to ask if she was all right while she sobbed. Not Ally, who had stood at the counter of her favorite coffee shop, bouncing her head along to the music on her iPod and not once noticing her best friend sitting at a nearby table. Not anyone else Becca had visited. She was no one, a shadow, a ghost. And the weirdest part was seeing herself.

Becca glanced down the walkway. Her vision wasn't the best but – there she was. Pacing back and forth in front of tree, leaning on it, waiting in agitation for her dealer. She'd like to go smack herself and tell herself to lay off the pills. But she wouldn't interfere. Her younger self wouldn't listen anyway. She'd been convinced she wasn't a drug addict. Nothing but a cold dose of reality would snap her out of her addiction. Well, reality and Steve.

And here she came, stalking down the walkway. Her younger self met her eyes for a split second, and passed on. Why sit with the old lady when there's a hottie on the next bench? Becca smiled as her younger self struck up a conversation with Steve. By being completely nosy, of course. Two people meeting who thought they'd never see each other again. The universe worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes in shitty ways, but sometimes in the best ways.

Steve shook his head as her younger self walked away, but he was smiling. Becca decided seeing that smile was enough. She had seen him, had felt the comforting warmth of her love for him. It was time to get back. She had a little apartment in Brooklyn next to Jenny Legate, who insisted on looking in on her practically daily. For being a young adult, Jenny acted like more of a little old lady than Becca did. Becca pretended the visits bothered her – she could, in fact, take care of herself fine – but she enjoyed seeing Jenny.

Of course, getting up turned out to be a problem as Becca had anticipated. She leaned on her cane. Okay, one, two, three. She heaved, straining to get to her feet. Pain shot through her back. Nope. Try again. One, two, three. No. She sighed. That's what she got for sitting here for so long. She'd rest a couple of seconds and try again.

"Ma'am?" Becca jerked her head in Steve's direction. He was looking right at her. "Would you like some help?"

Becca blushed. Oh this just figured. "No. No, I'm all right. Thank you."

Okay. She was going to get to her feet, and show Steve that she was fine. One, two, three. Becca heaved and almost made it. Almost. Goddammit.

Steve's legs appeared in her vision first, then his hand. Becca looked at it, feeling a flash of resentment. She could've gotten up on her own eventually. Still, she took the help.

His hand in hers, it was like a long forgotten memory. She wouldn't have been able to describe how his hand felt only seconds before, but now she couldn't believe she had ever forgotten. With his support, Becca got to her feet.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," replied Steve, and when he dropped her hand, Becca barely kept from reaching to take it again.

Becca had a million things she wanted to say, and she knew she couldn't say any of them. That's why she'd written them in a letter to be sent to Stark Tower after Thanos was defeated. She would have sent it to their apartment, but couldn't for the life of her remember the address.

So Becca said the first thing that popped into her head. "It's a nice day." The weather? She hadn't seen him for 70 years and she was going to talk about the weather?

"It is," Steve agreed.

After a moment passed in silence, Becca realized this could only get more awkward. "Well, I'll be on my way. Thanks again."

She turned away, and got three shuffling steps before Steve offered, "Can I walk you home, ma'am?"

"I'll be fine."

"I don't mind."

"Stubborn," Becca murmured, but with affection. "Okay, but I'm warning you, once I get some momentum going, I can get up to the speed of a pretty spry turtle."

Steve grinned. "I'll try to keep up."

Becca lead them towards the subway, thinking of topics to keep the focus on Steve and prevent him from asking about her. And yet… this was an opportunity. A chance to say goodbye. He had a really good memory. When the right time came and he figured out what had happened to her, she could give him this moment to look back on, and she could have this one moment to hold onto. She could have her peace. So she thought of the best way to nudge a conversation in the right direction.

"You from around here?" she asked.

"I'm living downtown," Steve replied. "But I grew up in Brooklyn."

"Well, Brooklyn's where we're headed."

Steve took her arm to help her down the subway stairs. "Yeah? You lived there long?"

"Since '41." Okay, nothing direct enough to be obvious. Subtly was key. Becca casually went on, "You know, Captain America's from Brooklyn." She felt Steve tense. "Maybe you remember him from a history class?"

"Uh… yeah." Steve couldn't feign casualness quite as well, but bless him, he tried. "Sounds familiar."

"I got to meet him back when he was just Steve Rogers. He had a smart mouth, but he was sweet underneath." Becca gave him a mischievous smile. "And cute, too," she added, at which Steve looked adorably bewildered. Only Steve would get the pleased kind of flustered at an old lady's recollection of him as cute.

"You think?"

"Oh yeah. I had a big ol' crush on him," Becca continued with a laugh. If anyone at that time had a gigantic crush it'd been him. Not that she had noticed. Not that'd he'd even recall. Her laughter died. "'Course I don't think he'd remember me."

Steve was peering at her thoughtfully. "Did you live in my neighborhood?"

A slip up. Becca let it go as if she hadn't noticed. "No, but I'd see him around from time to time."

"Huh."

At the bottom of the stairs, they put their MetroCards through the turnstiles – Becca had a sudden flashback to little Steve hurrying in front of her so he put enough coins in the slots to pay for both their fares – and walked towards the correct platform.

"Lord, how rude am I?" Becca said abruptly, not wanting Steve to think too hard. She didn't need him to remember her that well. Not yet. "Here I am prattling on about Steve Rogers, and I didn't even introduce myself." She had to stop and leaned on her cane to hold out her hand. "Rebecca Read." She paused for a second, but then used the name she hadn't heard in years. "But I prefer Becca."

Steve shook her hand. He seemed to be debating, but said his real name "… Steve" like an omission of guilt.

"Well. Small world." Becca sighed for effect. "It's too bad you aren't Steve Rogers. I'd have liked to say something to him if he'd ever come back."

"Like what?"

This was it. This was her moment. Becca gathered her thoughts together. All these years, all her feelings summed up to this man who thought she was a stranger. Who had no idea that the wedding ring she still wore was the one he would one day put on her finger . Who had no idea how much she still love him. "That I'm sorry. That he meant a lot to me. That I know he's had it hard, but I also know he can find it in himself to be happy again."

Steve looked at her, and looked. And something in his expression softened. "I think he'd like to have heard that."

"I hope so."

Becca patted his arm and kept moving down the platform because if she didn't do something, she was going to start crying.

They didn't speak on the platform or on the subway car. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but easy, like it had always been. Becca allowed herself to just enjoy him sitting beside her, to savor this one last bit of closeness she'd thought for a very long time she would never have again. He helped her up from her seat on the subway car – and she allowed it this time for the rush of his strong arms holding her.

Out on the platform in Brooklyn, however, Becca noticed him looking uncertainly at the exit. That's right. He hadn't visited for a long time once he'd come back. Well, she wouldn't make him if he wasn't prepared to face his past.

"You head on back," she assured him, and lied, "My building is right up those stairs."

"Are you sure?" Steve checked. "I can –"

"No, no. I won't have you paying to come back in." Becca took his hand. She would've liked to press a kiss to his cheek, but didn't think she could managing hopping up on her toes like she used to. "Thanks for walking me home. It was nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Maybe we'll see each other again."

Steve smiled, but he didn't look like he believed her, and Becca got a strange sense of déjà vu. "Maybe."

"Goodbye, Steve."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Read."

"Becca."

Steve's brow furrowed, but he corrected himself. "Goodbye, Becca."

And with that, Becca walked away, letting go of her emotions, allowing the tears to fall down her cheeks, but she smiled because she knew that soon Steve would again run into the young woman who needed him as much as he needed her. And they would fight. And they would love. And they would realize that they could live without each other, but in the end, they would never forget each other. Not really.

Author's Note:

PREQUEL ANNOUNCEMENT!

So that is the end of Becca and Steve's relationship. Their story has come full circle, but that does not mean the series is over. I will be writing a third part to this series: To Stand Unshielded. This story will be taking place during and after the events of The Winter Soldier. It's going to be dark and gritty, and I'm excited to get started. However, since I still need to finish nailing down the outline and completing story research (and the holidays are crazy), I will first be putting out another collection of one-shots. Moments Together will be a collection of fluffy, fun one-shots with Steve and Becca, each featuring other MCU characters or some of my OCs. Thanks again to all my readers for their support.