I woke up, shivering. I was in my room, and I could hear the wireless in the background. Everything felt normal, except the last thing I remember is falling into something cold. I stand up and hear something leather hit the floor. I rub my eyes and pick it up gently. It was my journal. Smiling gently, my hand opened the cover. I loved the sound it made, like leaves drifting in the wind. I read the first entry, a little disoriented.

'Saturday December 10th, 1932.

I hate Brooklyn. It's one of the dullest places I could ever imagine living in. Dad's as isolated as ever, always poring over some plans for a car. I can't believe he's acting like this! Mum only died a month ago and he's acting like nothing happened! It's as if he doesn't think it happened – like I moved in out of choice! I miss Buxton. At least there I could just go outside and wander in the fields. I keep seeing these two boys at school. They're always together and the smaller one keeps getting beat up. If I could try and get past the bullies, maybe I could help him. But the bullies are boys, and boys and I don't mix well. At all.'

I grinned. I remembered that. I was fourteen at the time and boys terrified me. Since it was a short extract I decided to read the next one. That was before I remembered a little more of what had happened before right now. I'd been running, sprinting even. I was trying to get to something and it was futile. That's when I froze in my memories. Literally. I shuddered. I could hear voices. They definitely weren't my father's.

I read the next entry nervously.

'Monday, December 12th, 1932.

Ok, maybe Brooklyn isn't so bad. I never thought I'd actually say this, but I have friends! I stopped the bullies. They "Didn't want to hit a girl" and walked off. The smaller boy, who I now know as Steven Grant Rogers, thanked me. It had been nothing really, but I'd saved him from being totally beaten to a pulp again. The larger boy, James Buchanan Barnes, seemed impressed by my show of courage, so he asked me if I wanted to go around town later. "My dad doesn't really bother too much about me, so it'd be nice to get shown around." The boys looked a little shocked by my accent, so they asked me if I was British. Of course, I nodded. They told me I could just call them Steve and Bucky, instead of James and Steven, as I'd been calling them up until that point. I think I'll go read for bit.'

"She's finally stable." One of the voices said.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally and psychologically, we haven't checked." Another voice said.

I stood up and looked around. No. This wasn't right. My alarm clock was always on the left side of my bed, not the right. I gulped as I realised something. My father had been declared Missing In Action. Who the heck was talking that was in my house? I dropped the journal and looked around for a weapon. My eyes locked on the drawer by my bed, but it wouldn't open. I looked around, agitated.

"Miss Alice Williams, please calm down." I heard a man say.

"Who exactly are you? And where the hell am I?" I ask, my voice barely shaking.

"We'll have time for that later. But for now, come with me." He says, as a panel in the wall slid open.

I must have looked shocked, because the man explains, "You mustn't have had stuff like this in 1945 then, had you?" he asks. I shook my head.

"I'm Director Nick Fury. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. The world's changed a lot." He says. He had an eye patch and he looked very serious and stern.

I picked up my journal carefully. "It's not 1945, is it?" I ask quietly.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "No. it's 2014."

I look at him. "Was Howard Stark right? Are there flying cars?" I ask eagerly.

"No…"Fury says. I sigh.

"What happened to me?" I ask.

Fury looks at the journal. "It's best if you read that first." He says. I nod.

He shows me out of the room and I sit down in a boardroom. A few people filed in, a man with black hair and glasses, who seemed to know exactly what was going on, a man with dark brown hair and a beard, who seemed to be poking fun at the other man. There was a woman with red hair walking with a guy with an ashy-blonde spiked mess of hair. He smirked at me and I frowned. Then a tall, strong-looking man came in, wearing a chequered flannel shirt and a brown leather jacket. My eyes widened as he came in. "Steve." I whispered. He looked at me as if he didn't know me and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Everyone settled down. I was sat across the table from Steve and he looked me up and down, looking confused.

"This is Alice Williams. It's best if she finds out most of what happened to her by herself, but you should all introduce yourselves." Fury says.

The man with the black hair and glasses smiled. "I'm Bruce Banner." He said with a smile. I nodded a little, disoriented and confused.

"Tony Stark, genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist at your service." The man with a beard says with a smirk. Steve shot him a glare.

"He's a self-centred toaster, like his machines." Steve muttered and I smiled a little.

The red-headed woman looked at me. "Natasha Romanoff." She says simply. I liked the way she addressed me. It was calm and relaxed.

The only remaining person I didn't know smirked at me. "Clint Barton, Hawkeye. I'll be assessing your shooting skills." He says.

Steve looks at me. "I'm-" I interrupt him.

"Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America." I say quietly.

He looks shocked. "How did you-" he says. I stand up.

"Known you since we were fourteen. Saved you several times." I say, walking out of the room. Steve watched me and I heard him speaking to Nick. "Who is she?" he asked.

I looked back for a split second, before running back to the room I'd woken up in and curling under the quilt with my journal. I had some reading to do.

'Tuesday, December 13th, 1932.

Today was Interesting. Steve was getting beat up again, but I got in front of him and got punched myself. I reacted badly and punched back. Last time I hit the principal's son. I've got detention every day after school for two weeks now. I guess I deserved it. Steve's being really apologetic, even though I've told him I'll be ok. Some of the other boys started talking to me. I didn't like it, but I was too afraid to tell them so. That was when I put Bucky in front of me. Then they left me alone. Bucky and Steve don't try to make me talk or do anything I'm uncomfortable with. We mainly just sit and I read and they talk about other things while making sure the guys don't get too close. I return the favour and get in the way when the bullies are trying to get to Steve. It's a good system really. I guess I should sleep now. I'll write in again tomorrow.'

I finished reading and sat up. We'd mutually saved each other from embarrassment on a daily basis and he didn't even know who I was. A small tear trickled down my face.

"I don't think she's emotionally stable yet. We'll leave her for now." I hear Nick say, and Steve's voice replies, "But who is she?"

"I think the next few weeks will bring a lot to light about you both. You should probably rest, New York was only last week." Fury replies.

Steve sighed and walked away. Fury did the same. I curled my knees up against my chest and read another entry.

'Tuesday, December 27th 1932.

Dad took my journal while I was on detention. I wasn't allowed to talk to Steve or Bucky outside school and it was horrible. I wasn't even allowed to read. I had literally nothing to do. It was honestly torturous. Christmas was nice. Dad didn't bother me much, just put my presents outside my room and went back to reading his plans. It was great. I got some new clothes, a few books, a few other miscellaneous things and an orange.'

I finished reading and sighed. I was going to have a long night reading this.