You know you're a geek when you're inspired to write a fan fiction by history class...

We're (finally) in the World War 2 chapter in history. And in one of our lectures, the topic of Concentration/Labor/ Extermination Camps was brought up.

It, of course, inspired me to write this.

Warning: This story contains dark and morbid scenes from a Concentration Camp. There was nothing good about them. I try to write honestly and sometimes it gets a little... Rough.
There are also scenes of panic attacks/PTSD.

Please read at your own risk.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT agree with Steve when it comes to Germany. I agree with him when it comes to Nazis, but not Germans in general. And if he seems a little racist, well, it happens in war. I don't condone it, but I do recognise it.

Also, Todeshaus is a fictional camp. I didn't want to mess with the history of any real one.

Please read and let me know what you think.

God bless,
Jamie

~TH~

Steve Rogers hated Germany. Really he did. He hated being there. Hated the memories that pulled at him. Of course, a large Hydra base was set up there. Of course, they had important information about Loki's staff that just had to be gotten in person. Of course, as leader of the Avengers, he had to go.

But he was Captain America. He was fine. Always was. So he fought, trying to block out the memories of so many similar battles. He caught himself before calling his teammates by the wrong names. The Commandos were all dead. Well, except for Bucky. And there were days where he wasn't sure which was worse.

He tried to remember that these Nazi's weren't the same ones he fought seventy years ago. There was just... Something. The base felt so familiar.

The battle only lasted about an hour before the victory was theirs. Tony was able to get whatever information he needed out of the base. There were no major injuries. It was great. It was good. They could go home now.

He shuddered at the memories clawing at his brain.

The Iron Man suit plopped down beside him, causing him to jump. The faceplate flicked up and Tony turned a suddenly concerned gaze to the Captain.

"Hey, you good Spangles? You're looking a little pale."

Steve plastered on his best Captain America smile before turning to Tony. "Just ready to get back home."

Tony nodded. It was no secret that Steve had had a hard time ever since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. He tried to hide it. Tried to act like everything was fine, but it wasn't and he was getting worse. The worse it got, the harder it was to hide.

"Let's start back to the quinjet," Cap said after several awkward moments of silence.

Natasha lead a freshly de-Hulked, redressed Bruce to where Tony and Steve were standing. Clint and Thor were quick to join the small pack.

The German police showed up, nodding to the Avengers before going to arrest any surviving terrorists. Germany taking down Hydra. What a twist in fate.

He started walking towards the waiting quinjet which was about five miles away. It was the only place clear enough to land without being spotted. All the while, he tried not to be bitter. He really did. He knew it wasn't all of the German's fault. He knew that many people went along with Hiter as simply a means for survival. But so many had died. So many good men, some he would even call friends, had died at the hands of ruthless German's who were even more brutal than necessary. He knew all of Hydra wasn't German. Here in the twenty-first century, he'd met American Hydra operatives for crying out loud. But the resentment still flared up. Still made him angry in a very un-Captain America way. Forgive and forget, right? Easier said than done.

With every step he took, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into his past. He found himself looking around at his teammates, trying to remind himself of who he was with and what year it was. He really hated Germany. It played too many tricks on his mind. And he could have sworn that he'd been down this path before.

He was snapped out of his thinking (brooding?) by the sound of Clint's voice. "Where are we anyway?" He asked from somewhere behind him.

"Uh," Tony answered, "it looks like we're about twenty miles out from Hamburg."

Steve froze, eyes widening.

"Why won't the Krauts just surrender?" Bucky complained good-naturedly. "I mean, that's the third Hydra base we've taken down in the past week! Surely they're starting to get the idea!"

Gabe laughed lightly, "Hey if they did that, we'd be out of a job!"

"I'd be willing to take my chances," Dum Dum responded.

Jim smiled knowingly, "And we all know the Captain is ready for the war to end. The sooner it ends, the soon he and Agent Carter can finally be together."

Steve blushed as the Commandos 'oohed' at the idea of their Captain and his girl.

"Where are we anyway?" Bucky asked, still smiling in a boyish way.

Dugan glanced around him, "I'd say about twenty miles out from Hamburg."

"Cap?" people were crowding around him.

"Cap, can you hear me?"

"Steve?"

The voices kept coming, but he didn't respond. He felt his breathing become jagged. An awful ringing in ears.

His body reacted without his consent. Pushing past his team he began to run through the forest. It took his frazzled mind a moment to realize where he was going. And as much as he hated it, he couldn't stop himself.

The sound of gunshots caused the playful banter to stop. Each of the Commandos dived behind trees. But there were no bullets. The shots weren't being fired at them.

"Let's go," Steve said, leading his small group towards the gunfire.

He reached the end of the treeline. Stopping abruptly at the sight before him. The tall barb wired fence had fallen in certain areas. The gate was crooked and pushed in and he could see rows and rows of falling down wooden buildings. Todeshaus. The place that haunted his dreams during the war. Haunted his dreams even now.

The men stopped at what they saw. Men, women, and children lined up against a fence. Bodies falling as the gunfire reached them. Then it stopped just as suddenly as it began. The German soldiers began kicking the bodies into a shallow ditch before them.

Steve slowly, numbly walked in through the gate. He went over to a long patch of ground near the left edge of fencing. Large rocks and boulder sat in a line, the only tombstone for the hundreds of bodies lying there.

He wasn't sure who charged first. It very well could have been him. He felt blinded by rage. These were civilians. These weren't soldiers. These weren't enemies. These were German citizens.

With a loud cry, he knocked in the gate. Gun in one hand, shield in the other. They caught the German's by surprise. They never expected Allies to come charging in.

There were only about two dozen Nazi soldiers still in the camp. They must have been shutting down or relocating. Even then, it was a miracle all eight Allies came out alive. But when it was all over, the Commandos were still standing. The Germans weren't.

They found their way to the line of dead bodies. They were all wearing the same black and white striped outfits, with a patch of David's Star over their hearts. Jews. All Jews. There had to be hundreds of them. All dead.

The Commandos were more gentle in their burying. They placed the bodies in the holes and covered it back up. When that was done, large stones were placed over the newly dug graves. It was the best they could do to commemorate the horrendous loss of life.

The air smelled of death. There was much debate over whether the dead German soldiers should be buried. Eventually, it was decided that it would be easier too simply burn the bodies, though Steve suspected the outcome was more another form of revenge than morals. And there was a crematorium already there. Recently used. The smell of death increased.

Steve turned and saw a metal building. The metal building. Somehow he found himself standing in the doorway. He was frozen in place. He couldn't move. His breathing was coming in short, choking gasps.

"Check for any records you can find," Cap said quietly pointing to what looked to be an important building. "Try to find a list of names. So families can be informed." If any of the families were still alive. The Nazi's were nothing if not thorough.

Steve left his men to do what he asked, while he turned to one of the only two metal buildings in the camp. The other, being, the currently in use, crematorium. He held his shield in front of him, tightly gripping the gun in his other hand.

A little way in, there was a room to his right. The room gave him a dark feeling, but it wasn't until he stepped in that he understood. There were tools. Disgusting and evil looking tools. Much cruder tools that Hydra used. There was blood staining the floor and large chains haphazardly placed around the room.

He was so in shock that he didn't see the man hiding under the table. The man suddenly lunged at the Captain with a scalpel in his hand. Cap regained his sense, bringing up the gun and shooting the man directly between the eyes. The man, clearly a scientist, fell dead at his feet.

He saw a folder on the table. For a reason he couldn't explain, he picked it up and shoved it in his jacket before he backed out of the room. Now breathing heavy, he continued to walk through the building. He found cells. Dark, dirty, and thankfully empty cells. Until the last one. And he never would have noticed if it wasn't for the small noise picked up by his enhanced hearing.

There were two little girls. Twins. They looked like they couldn't be more than five. One of the girl's eyes met his. They were afraid. They were afraid and they were sick and they were hurt.

Feeling a sudden wave of panic, Steve pulled on the rusted, barred door. With some effort, it opened. As he entered the cell, one of the girls began scooting backwards, dragging the other one with her.

"Ich bin ein Freund. (I am a friend.) " he said, placing his shield on his back and putting his gun away. "Ich werde dich nicht verletzen. Ich will helfen. (I won't hurt you. I want to help.)" He said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

"Du bist ein Amerikaner? (You are an American?) " One of the girls asked. Something that looked remarkably like hope crossed her face.

Steve nodded, "Ja, ja, Amerikaner. (Yes, yes, American.)"

"Meine Schwester ist krank. Du musst helfen. Sie liegt im Sterben. (My sister is sick. You have to help. She is dying.)" The girl cried out desperately.

The Captain approached them as gently and calmly as he could. "Oben, (Up,)" he says to the girl who had been talking. The other girl appeared to be unconscious. She was so still. He leaned down to make sure she was even breathing. The faint flutter of breath met his fingers as he bent down.

He picked up both girl, one in each arm. They were so small. Then he very quickly exited the building. He pressed the girls tightly into his shoulders as he ran through the gate. There was a hospital in Hamburg. If he could just get the girls there. Then maybe, by some miracle, they would both live.

Then two would have lived. Two of what, hundreds, thousands?

He slowed when he reached the edge of town. Both girls now appeared to be unconscious in his arms. He prayed they were just sleeping. He knew better than to hope.

The American captain dodged around buildings until he reached the hospital. Taking a deep breath (there was a very good chance he wouldn't make it out of this alive or at the very least, uncaptured) he entered the hospital.

The nurse's eyes widened. She looked as if she was about to call out in alarm.

"Diese Mädchen brauchen Hilfe! (These girls need help!)" He said before she could call out, "Bitte," he whispered.

The nurse stood for a minute as if unsure of what she should do. She never took her eyes off of him. "Hans!" She had clearly made her decision.

Steve closed his eyes against the fear that was beginning to overwhelm him. But it didn't matter. he needed to get these girls help. Whatever the cost.

An elderly looking man rounded the corner seeming surprised, but not angry, at the sudden presence of an American. "How old?" The man said with a thick accent, motioning for the girls to be passed to him.

Steve shook his head, then stopped remembering the folder in his jacket. He pulled it out, seeing it was the girls' official file. The Kamnitz twins, age... "Twelve, zwölf," he muttered in disbelief.

The Doctor nodded before carrying them both to a back room. The nurse turned to follow, then looked back at Steve, "Gehen," She said shooing the Captain out, "Go, go,"

He did as he was told, sprinting back to the camp where he had left his men. He returned in record time due to the way the serum allowed him to run faster. He was still met with concerned and slightly panicked looks (mainly from Bucky) when he returned.

Steve heard people behind him. He still hadn't moved from his place in the doorway. The air smelled like burnt flesh. Like death.

"Cap, what-"

The sound was cut off when Steve suddenly sprinted towards the fence, fell to his knees, and vomited. He stayed there for several minutes, gagging even after there was nothing left in his stomach.

Someone was beside him, rubbing his back. He didn't respond. His brain was still buzzing, trying to differentiate between then and now. He was so confused.

"What year is it?" He mumbled to himself, not really expecting an answer.

"It's 2014, buddy." The surprisingly gentle voice says.

He turned his head slightly to the side. "Tony?" He whispers, his throat feeling almost as raw as his emotions.

"Yeah, it's me."

Huh. When had Stark gained bedside manner? And when had he taken the suit off? He was just wearing it a couple of minutes ago.

He looked behind him and saw the rest of the Avengers. Clint and Natasha had moved back to the tree line, while Bruce and a very confused Thor stood next to the horrible metal building.

"They called them concentration camps," he heard Bruce say slowly, trying to explain to Thor where they were.

"Extermination," Steve correctly quietly,

Tony looked at him, confused.

"It was an Extermination Camp. All Jews, all dead. They killed hundreds of them at once. Just lined them up and shot them. Made them dig their own graves first. Todeshaus. Appropriate name. They literally called it 'Death House'." He paused finding his breathing becoming difficult again. "Couldn't, co-couldn't stop them. Too late. Watched them die. And the experiments." He choked, "What they did to people, to children."

Just the memory of this place mad it impossible to function. He really hated Germany.

When they got back to the Allied base, he read the file. It was stupid of him, but he had to know. It made him sick. Bucky had thought he was dying when he found him puking everything he'd ever eaten. There were just no words to describe how horrendous everything was.

Then he did something he hadn't done since joining the Army. He requested a break. Not long, just a couple of days to regain his bearings.

Colonel Phillips very adamantly refused. Steve nodded in understanding. He was needed. He was Captain America. He just wasn't sure if he could perform.

He skipped dinner, opting to just go to bed. Most of the Commandos skipped. None of them spoke. Some things are just too terrible to discuss. He was surprised when Colonel Phillips entered his tent later that night. He was paler than Steve had ever seen him, that's when he noticed the file clutched tightly in the man's hand. "You and your team are to stay here until further notice." Was all he said before leaving.

The underlying tone was still there. "Take all the time that you need." Steve internally translated. But somethings didn't just go away. If he was supposed to wait until the nightmares left, he never would have gone out again.

Steve wasn't breathing. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought he was having an asthma attack. Fortunately, he did know better, not that it changed the outcome.

"Hey, hey, Cap, Steve. I need you to look at me. Got it? Look at me and breathe."

It wasn't working. It just played over and over again in his mind. The death. So much underserved death. And he had been forced to watch.

"Bruce!" He heard someone, Howard? (Wait, that didn't seem right) call out.

Why was it always this place that haunted his memories? This wasn't the last camp he liberated. Maybe that was it. This was the one he couldn't save. The people he couldn't liberate.

He was pretty sure he was going to pass out. His lungs spasmed, not taking in any oxygen. He felt gentle hands turn his face.

"Steve, I need you to look at me. Come on, focus."

The light tap on his face was what he needed to pull him out. "Bruce, " he rasped, eyes still unfocused.

"That's right, now I need you to breathe for me. Come on, breathe."

He tried, he really did. But it was all just too much. He began clawing at someones, Bruce? Yeah, Bruce. He began clawing at Bruce's chest, trying to make him understand. Needing him to understand.

The hand on his back moved to his shoulder, holding firm. But he couldn't... He had to...

Pushing the hands away, he stood up. He must have stood up too fast because the works started to spin. Still trying to push air into his lungs he took a couple of steps forward before losing his balance.

His knees gave out, but something warm and soft surrounded him. Clinging to the minuscule comfort, he felt his battle with consciousness coming to a close. He couldn't breathe and couldn't think. He really, really hated Germany. He just needed...

He heard people calling his name, but couldn't make himself respond. Then everything went black.

~A~

Todeshaus. It seemed even larger than before. More people. Thousands of them. All standing still. No fight left in them. Awaiting their deaths. They saw him coming. They looked at him, hope shining in their eyes. Then the shots rang out. And they were dead.

Just like that.

All of them were dead.

He couldn't save them.

Any of them.

They were dead.

But their eyes.

Their eyes were still open.

Staring at him.

Accusing him.

Half living skeletons rose from the shallow graves. They were coming for him. For revenge. He couldn't save them.

He sat up panting. Something was around his face, he tore it off in a panic. He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. An oxygen mask lay on the floor of the... Quinjet. Yeah. He was on the quinjet.

"2014?" He whispered to no one imparticular.

"2014," Bruce replied picking up the oxygen mask.

He felt tremors go through his body. All he could do was breathe, allowing the cold sweat to soak through his uniform.

A warm body moved beside him.

"Captain," it was Thor's deep, comforting voice, "you can not blame yourself for those you were unable to save."

Steve doesn't respond, still breathing heavy and allowing his mind the wrap around everything that had happened.

Another body scoots up against him, "It wasn't your fault." Comes the sweet feminine voice of Natasha. "There was nothing you could have done."

"We're sorry Cap, " Clint said quietly from the row of seats across from him

This causes him to look up. Sorry? What reason did they have to be sorry? If anyone should apologise it should be him. He was the one who...

"Yeah," it was Tony now standing in front of him. "We should have realized something like this would happen. We just never thought-"

"No, no, I'm sorry, " Steve interrupted, "I shouldn't have, have, have.." His words trailed off.

"You're allowed to break Steve," Natasha said, pressing closer to him. "You're allowed to have problems, but you need to tell us." Her hand was rubbing small circles on his back as she spoke.

Steve nodded. It was all he could do.

They stayed huddled around him for the rest of the trip, trusting Jarvis to get the home. No one moved, no one spoke.

It was just Steve's heavy breathing.

When the quinjet landed, Steve left without saying a word. He ignores the others' attempt to stop him and went straight to his room.

He sat on his bed silently, fingering his mother Bible.

He just wanted to forget. Forget everything. Forget the camp. Forget the ice. Forget about everything that had happened to Bucky. Forget that his best friend was trying to kill him. Forget everyone was dead. But he couldn't. He knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, he would be back there. Back in that stupid camp. And if not there, on a train, or stuck in ice, or falling from the Triskelion.

He wanted to forget. Wanted to forget so badly. But some things, some things, get seared into the memory. Some things are there and never leave. Some things, like Todeshaus, haunt you forever.

Some things, you just can't forget.

~TH~

I know it's not an extremely happy ending, but what can you expect? How can there be a happy ending to something so dark in our world's history?

I currently have this marked as complete, but if I missed something you would like to see, let me know. I'm open to writing more of this story.

Thank you so much for reading. Please comment and let me know what you thought.

God bless,
Jamie