Before his time – Later than you think.

Chapter 1

He was cold when he woke, cold enough to shiver even with the abnormal body temperature he now had. Opening his eyes was a small battle, his eyelids feeling as if they were sealed shut somehow. Taking stock of himself, he couldn't find anything truly wrong.

Well. He still had a few cracks in the ribs and a flurry of bruises all over, but nothing outright broken. Nothing that would really hinder him.

Cracking his eyes open he looked around.

His breath puffed in the air every time he breathed out so Steve quickly began breathing through his nose instead of through his mouth. It would keep him warmer. The ship he was in was wrecked. Nothing was in order and most things were broken.

The hull seemed to have held for the most part however, something Steve was thankful as he heaved himself to his feet. The shield, star still painted on went on his arm without trouble, though one of the straps was in bad condition. Well… both of the straps were but one was halfway to coming loose, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Looking around again Steve noted the ice coating everything. Everything that wasn't stuck to something had been overthrown, cargo in disarray. Looking over the instrument panel Steve's heart leapt into his throat as he remembered the compass he had placed there.

'Peggy.' His thoughts flashed to the memory of talking to her. To looking at her picture and listening to her voice as she told him not to be late, the tremor in her voice she couldn't suppress. He was glad though. Steve had held on to the voice, it had carried over a little of her strength and he had gotten the courage to do what had to be done.

Walking forward, careful not to slip on the ice coating the floor, Steve let out small sound of relief when he could steady himself against the chair in the front. His legs really didn't seem to like it when he walked. 'They'll have to deal. I'm not sitting down again.' He though. Knowing he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon if he sat.

Brushing the snow off the control table in front of him Steve carefully began looking. In the end he found the small compass on the floor, under an inch of ice. Thankfully he'd been able to smash up the ice with his shield and carefully extract the compass. Peggy's picture had taken a turn for the worse, the paper not able to withstand the elements the ship had managed to fight.

The small portrait was still recognizable as Peggy though, which was good. Steve didn't know how long he'd been out for but maybe he could still make it back in time for that date. Damn it. The war. How many people had died? Had the camp been over run? 'Bucky…' Steve shook his head and turned his thoughts to the other Howlers instead.

He had to get back.

Looking around Steve began taking an actual inventory of what he had. The ship hadn't been the most stocked to begin with and the ice covering everything wouldn't help. Stretching his memory he recalled some kind of crates stuffed into the back of the plane. That would be a good place to start looking for something useful.

So walking over to the door in the back it was, unfortunately the plane had crashed nose down. Which meant that while it had helped Steve get to the front of the ship it worked against him now.

Second problem was getting the door open. It opened into the room so there was no use trying to tackle it open. Braising a foot on the wall Steve grabbed the door handle with both hands and pulled.

"Fuck. Fucking God-damned piece of scrap, OPEN!" With the last heave the door moved for him, giving up a pitiful sounding whine as it did.

"Yeah." Steve gasped for breath and the cold air stung his lungs. "There we go." Ignoring how the air current made him shiver in the suit Steve pressed on.

He found a knife, stuck in the back of the Hydra goon he had killed on deck. A handful emergency rations, a gun. A few scraps of fabric. The rope frayed under his hands as he tried lifting it from where it was hooked on the wall. The small chain hanging from the roof he yanked loose and wrapped up tight.

The fabric went around his hands and one of the larger around his face. The difference it made was negligible at first but it would help against the wind. The knife went into an improvised sheath he made out of reluctantly donated leather curtesy of previous named dead Hydra Goon. Yes, Steve gave him capital letters now, seeing as he'd been helpful.

Then again it wasn't as if the man did it on purpose, or was really aware he'd provided it… 'Focus.' Steve chastised himself, galley humor wouldn't be getting him anywhere.

So. Fabric: One piece wrapped around his face, one around each hand. A fourth made a small pouch and was filled with the rations and the fabric that was left over. One last piece went to securing the thing to his belt. The shield was on his arm. Compass in his pocket. Chain around his back. Gun in his belt.

He'd have to travel south. Look for somewhere with people. Grab a place on a boat or plane and get back to the front.

Taking stock again Steve ate as much as he dared from the rations. Forced himself to heat a handful of snow, sure it was damn cold, but better than dehydration. Hopefully his metabolism was enough to keep up even in this climate. Feeling bad about it Steve decided to liberate the Hydra Goon from his uniform. The leather would help against the wind and snow.

Looking around again Steve nodded. His legs felt better and there would be no use waiting around here. Carefully Steve checked the compass taking a moment to just look at Peggy's picture and imagine her voice telling him 'You're late' again. He smiled. Then he checked which way south was, climbed out of the wrecked ship and began walking.