Chapter One
"I'm sorry, you're going to have to wait out here." The words. The dreaded words he had feared he might hear. Steve Rogers stood watching the double doors swing closed, watching the gurney race down the hall carrying his heavily pregnant wife, taking her to a place he couldn't go.
A nurse showed him to a waiting room, told him she would keep him updated as soon as she knew anything. He didn't want to wait, he wanted to be there, holding her hand like he had been before everything suddenly took a turn for the worst.
Pacing in the lobby, he found he couldn't stand still. They had called Phil, Clint, Tony, and Bruce the moment she had gone into labor, but they weren't there yet. Trying to sit down, trying to breathe, he stood back up and paced the room again.
It had been almost two years since they had been married. They had gone through hell, through danger unknown, and he loved her more than he could love anyone else, ever. It was so strange to think that the one thing that neither of them expected to happen, was. A baby, a child. They had created life and it was killing her. The indestructible Sera Rhett Aubrey, S.H.I.E.L.D's very own Deadeye Sniper was in trouble, and he blamed himself.
Pacing, he came to a stop, staring out the window as the world outside became dark and cold. He stared at his reflection, didn't see much of a change from that first day that seemed so far away. That first day he remembered after... after the last day of his old life.
He remembered the room, the strange room that was a trick, that was meant to keep him calm but he knew was wrong. The radio was all wrong. In that instance he knew it a lie and made his escape, his escape into the future, a much changed world.
Nick Fury was there, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, coaxing him away from the armed men that surrounded him and into an awaiting vehicle. He asked him then if he wanted to return to the staged room. Steve refused. Fury showed him to a safe facility, where he could take in his new surroundings without being overwhelmed. That was where he met her. He sat down upon his bed in his clean room and she came to the door. Her hair was darker then, a dark red-brown color. She peeked her head in through the doorway. "Captain?" she asked.
He looked up, caught in the strangeness of his situation, the nostalgia that ate away at him.
"Sera Rhett Aubrey," she introduced herself and he stood, remembering his manners, to shake her hand, a firm, calloused grip.
"Captain Steve Rogers, Ma'am," he replied.
"You can call me Sera, Captain," she assured him. "Fury told me to introduce myself. I'm supposed to be helping you get used to this crazy new world. So if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm staying right across the hall til you're ready to move out of this box."
From down the hall, he heard, "Sera!" and she rounded quickly saying, "Si—" her word breaking off when she saw whom addressed her. She frowned. "I thought you were someone else," she grumbled. That was the first time he met Hawkeye. Sera introduced them. "Cap, this is Clint Barton," she said when he was closer.
The two shook hands and Hawkeye added, "The fiancé."
"Really?" Sera said to him, "You really think mentioning that is necessary."
"You seem to forget," Clint smiled and then looked to the man from the past that stood before him. "It's nice meeting you, Captain," he said and shook his hand. "We're doing dinner at six in the mess. Up for it?"
Taking a slow breath, Steve Rogers made to refuse, but Sera said, "Honest, the food isn't that good but I could use better conversation than what's-his-face," and motioned to the man at her side. The slightest smile surfacing, even though he didn't have any feeling of happiness, he agreed to join them for dinner.
The hall was full of S.H.I.E.L.D agents, all wearing the same black outfit. Sera, however, was dressed in plain clothes. When he spoke his observation, she replied, "I'm supposed to follow you around. If you decide you wanna take a tour around town, I can't stop to change. If you wanna go, we go."
Steve watched her, eyes narrowed. "Just like that?"
Sera shrugged, "I'm not on fieldwork," she replied.
"Why you?"
The slightest frown slid across her lips and was gone in an instant, returning to a smile. He noticed rather quickly that the smile she gave to him wasn't one she usually had. "Would you prefer a different tour guide, Cap?" she asked, taking a bite of the much too-plain tuna sandwich on her plate.
Shaking his head, he replied, "I think I'd just rather stay in today."
"Yeah," she told him, "There's a staircase down the hall from your room, take a right and another right and you can make your way up to the roof."
There was little conversation after that. He stared at his food and even the conversation between the two across from him had become quiet. It wasn't an angry silence, only the feeling as if there was nothing to say. Finally, excusing himself, he bussed his tray and left. Sera's directions stuck with him as he returned to his room, and instead of going inside, he followed her words, making his way to the stairs that led him to a door and the open roof.
A quick gust of wind shut the door behind him and he found himself staring out at the New York skyline. He wasn't too close, but the buildings all around were still tall and intimidating. He knew then why Sera had sent him up there. First, it was easy to see what his world had become. Second, because it drove home the fact that if he ever wanted to feel at home again, he was going to need help. The noise was deafening. Cars honking, planes in the air, doors closing, cell phones. His head was spinning. The air was thick, heavy around him. He couldn't breathe.
"Easy Cap," he heard and spun around. Sera stood by the open door. "You're gonna throw yourself into nostalgia-city. Last thing we need is a depressed Captain America."
He stared at her from ten feet away. He felt his anger rising, but it wasn't because of her, he knew that, and desperately tried to keep his feelings shuttered.
"Hey," she said suddenly, softly, "we've got a game room downstairs if you're up for table tennis or something."
He wasn't sure how, but she could see right through him, like she already knew him, had known him, for quite some time. Another gust of wind kicked her dark hair forward and she rushed to tie it back. The color was much too similar to the woman he had left in the past, the woman he had been set to dance with one day. "Is that your real hair color?" he asked.
She appeared taken aback. Brow raised, she cleared her throat and replied, "No. I... don't see how that's relevant, Sir."
"There was that other woman, when I woke up..."
"Oh!" she said quickly and shook her head, "No. No. This was left over from my last field-mission with Clint. Director Fury told me once that I'm too noticeable otherwise." She pulled at a strand of wavy locks. "This isn't even my real hair."
"It's a wig?" he asked.
"A weave," she replied. "I usually keep it til I get sick of looking at myself in the mirror." Shrugging, she added, "Change is good sometimes."
Leaving the roof, he followed her down to the game room, and when they started a slow game of ping pong, he asked, "You said field work. What exactly do you do?"
"I'm a murderous, conniving, undercover operative, more partial to sniping from a distance than doing the up-close spy stuff." The ball she tapped across the table bounced past him as he stared back at her. "You missed," she said plainly, watching him.
"You're a sniper?" he questioned.
"One of the best S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer," she told him and then pointed to the ball with the paddle. "Is it your shot or mine?"
"They put you out in the field?" he asked.
Dark brows furrowing, Sera replied, "Something wrong with that, Cap?" with the slightest smile surfacing.
"No," he shook his head, "I just didn't think a pretty dame like... woman... woman like you would be a soldier."
"A Marine," she replied.
"A Marine," he repeated, mouth slightly open.
"Recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.," she added. "Two tours overseas and the last two, going on three years with S.H.I.E.L.D." Striding past him to pick up the fallen plastic ball, she added, "I assure you, Captain, I am no helpless dame."
He understood perfectly. Sera was there, not only to show him the new world, but to protect him from the evils. He was beginning to think her first statement, her words to describe herself, were not an exaggeration. Fury had given him the boogeyman to protect him from the new world taking advantage of him on his way to rehabilitation. But looking at her as she moved around the table to strike the ball with the paddle, he couldn't see her as an intimidating figure. She was wearing blue jeans and a pair of black flats. Her gray, long sleeve blouse sitting close to her skin with a loose, scooped neckline. She was slim and a head and a half shorter than him. By the looks of her, he wondered if she could even hold the recoil from a rifle. He began to wonder if she were bluffing. And then he remembered the callouses he felt when they first shook hands. She didn't have a soft touch.
"Earth to Cap," he heard and returned from his thoughts. "You gonna play? Or am I playing fetch with myself."
Shaking his head, he replied, "I guess this has never really been my game."
"Okay Star-Spangled Man. What is your game?"
He had barely started playing and felt again that he didn't care. The world was catching up with him again. He felt tired.
"Look," she said, setting down the paddle. "There's a little place I know of outside of here."
"I thought you were supposed to get me ready for going out into the world," he replied.
"Yeah, supposed to be a few months," she told him with a shrug, "but my guess is that if I leave you alone, you're going to go sit in your room and think. And if you're not going to talk with a psychiatrist about this whole deal, then you're probably like me and just need something else to think about."
"And we're just going to be able to walk right out of here?" Steve asked.
Sera smiled, a mischievous look that he took to instantly. He was ready to follow.
She gave him few directions, told him to be ready in an hour, to wait in his room. He waited, pulled his leather jacket tighter at his shoulders. A vent shaft in his room suddenly fell open and Sera slid through, flipping out and dropping herself gracefully to her feet. "You should be able to fit in there if you bring your shoulders in," she told him, rubbing her shoulder.
Watching her skeptically, he wanted to refuse, wanted to stay where he was supposed to. Then, she reached up and pulled herself into the air vent. "Come on, Cap," she said softly. "It's a jail break."
It was too late to back out, she was there, leading him out of a place that he probably could have just walked out of if he were determined to, but sneaking out was a good way to keep his mind occupied.
Ahead of him, Sera was quiet, moving through the vent with little noise. He couldn't see much, but could smell the dirt on the bottom of her flat shoes. Even though she was dressed nice, it didn't stop her from using her body as a duster and cleaning the vents while moving on her stomach.
He looked over her shoulder to see a fan ahead, but before she reached it, her body angled down and she disappeared down a sloping metal square. "Sera!" he whispered harshly.
A loud clang sounded from the bottom. He looked down into the darkness and heard a whistle. Asking himself why he was doing this, he followed, trying to keep from shouting as he slid down the vent and out into the light through a hinged vent. Caught by his arm and wrenched around to a ladder that stretched the length of the brick building, he found himself gripping the side bars of the ladder, pressed against a body as his feet tried to connect with the bars.
Sera still held to his arm as one of hers held them, wrapped around a rung and kept them steady. His cheek sat pressed against her outer thigh, and at the realization, his heart jumped into his throat, heat rushing into his face. "Alive down there, Cap?" she asked and he looked up to find her blue eyes full of focus.
He pulled away from her leg, cleared his throat. "Good catch," he replied shortly.
Releasing his arm, she replied, "Glad I caught you. Usually it's just me playing escape artist. Wasn't sure if I could support your weight."
Steve tried to keep the surprise out of his face, tried not to show any anger at her lack of forethought. Shaking his head, he settled for descending the ladder. It ended six feet above the ground and when he dropped down, he stepped back to give her room. As she reached the last three rungs, she extended her arms to get ready for the drop and that's when he saw it, a red splotch on the forearm of her knit gray blouse, the arm she had wrapped about the ladder.
Quickly he stepped forward, placing hands at her waist and supporting her weight as he lowered her to the ground. He felt every muscle tense in her body, ready to fight or flee. When she stood steady, he released her and she casually turned to face him, though he knew better than the pleasant, "Thanks," that she gave him.
"Your arm," he said. She looked down as if she hadn't even noticed.
"I'm bleeding," she replied, brow raised. He wondered if she really hadn't noticed.
Gently, he reached out, pulling up her sleeve up to expose the small cut in her flesh. It didn't look bad. A slice in her skin, roughed flesh around it, and then slowly came the blossoming of a bruise. "You should get this looked at," he told her.
"I'll clean it up when we get there," she told him and, with a sling of her hand, her sleeve dropped back into place. "Shouldn't cause a problem."
"But you're bleeding," he said, showing more concern.
A smile broke across her face and she fought to hide it. "It's not the worst injury in the world," she assured him, "It'll be fine for the twenty minute walk."
A twenty minute walk was an hour out of the way, but he was much too distracted by what the world had become, and by the way she took his arm in hers and they strode like lovers down through the Brooklyn streets. While he looked about, the obvious tourist, her gaze continued forward, a lovely smile upon her face as she stepped with a lovely bounce. The softness of her touch held any apprehension away. Her presence was comfort enough to ease his mind, even though he knew under the gentleness she gave him, there was the strength to support his weight.
At the end of their trip stood a beaten building with the word "gym" written on the front in big letters. Once upon a time there were lights inside the letters, but now the glass was broken, cracked. She released his arm, her hand sliding down to take his as she led him inside. A stairwell led up at their right, but to their left sat a pair of heavy glass doors. She pulled one open and he followed her.
From the threshold, she shouted, "Charlie!" her voice sharp and high pitched. Uncharacteristic of her usual no-nonsense self. He could only stare.
From around the corner, in a back, office came a man, short, dark of skin, hair receding into small gray hairs. "Woman!" he shouted back, cranky and old. "Don't you ever call first?"
"Call?" she replied with a question. "I just did. And you heard me."
"With your phone!" he complained.
"Oh..." She stared at him and a comical sense crossed her face as she asked, "What's a phone?"
"Girl!" he warned her.
At the tone in the man's voice, Steve's hand tightened on the woman's. She spoke quickly then. "Say, Charlie, you still got that place up top?"
"Not for you, troublemaker," the old man told her with a straight face.
"Good," Sera shot back, "I didn't want it anyway."
Old Charlie looked the man beside her up and down. "What's this?"
"Riff-raff," she replied with a shrug. "To the point." With these words, the whole atmosphere changed.
Charlie nodded. "I was supposed to have somebody coming to check it out this morning," he said with all civility, striding back through the doors they had just passed through and into the hall. "Still looks about the same as when you were last here," he added as they followed him to the stairs and up to another door.
Door opening, a small loft lay ahead. The walls were red brick, the bed bare, a queen-sized mattress. Dresser and desk were both pale, cheap wood, and an old television sat upon a table made of cinder blocks and plywood.
"You're right," Sera said, "Looks about the same. I made that entertainment center."
"Classy," Charlie muttered. He turned to Steve then, whom still held Sera's hand, and said, "Rent includes three keys. One to the front, one to the room, one to the gym. Utilities paid."
"It's the best you'll get," Sera told him. "And the better part is that you're now on payroll so it really doesn't cost you a dime."
"Where exactly do you work, Sera?" Charlie questioned.
"We're models, Charlie," she told him and the man laughed, guffawed. She grinned and told Steve, "Take a look around."
It was better, he had to admit, than the room he was stuck in with the other members of S.H.I.E.L.D. Closer to the city, able to get out when he wanted. He was a grown man, capable of caring for himself. And if he were unsure, there was always Sera to guide him. He had been reluctant to release her gun-calloused hand, but he did. It was simple, cozy, stress free. And downstairs sat what he wanted, what Sera had brought him for, the boxing ring, the punching bags.
"If it gets me out of that box," Steve said finally, "I'll take it."
"Good to hear," Charlie told him. "I'd rather have a friend of Sera's up here than some complete stranger." He turned and began to walk away saying, "I'll get your keys."
"That easy?" Steve asked.
"When you know the right people," she told him. "Now..." she looked around. "I guess you need a few things."
Shopping had never been one of his favorite past times, and now it was downright frightening. People packed stores, they were too big, too full. He followed Sera and was much too overwhelmed. Anxiety slid up into his chest, made his throat tight. Holding a pillow in her hands, Sera turned to him and whacked him across his arm. Everything fell away. Quickly his focus returned to her. "What color do you like?" she asked harmlessly, as if she hadn't just hit him in the middle of a store. A woman further down the aisle tried not to watch them, tried not to giggle.
"I guess... I'm partial to blue," he replied.
"Of course you are," she smiled.
When she smiled, when she pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, when she was much too serious for helping him pick out linens, he wanted to stand close to her. At times, he found himself at her back, reaching above her to pick something from a top shelf to give it a closer look and he would have to remind himself she was engaged to be married to another man. Quickly, he would give her distance.
Overall, he didn't know what he was doing in the store. He left most of the choosing to her. Before they left the store, Sera admitted, "Honestly, I don't know a thing about decorating, so when you didn't know, I just got you what I have, but in a different color."
When they returned to his new apartment, she helped set up toiletries and put blankets on his bed. He tried to help, but she was in one place and quickly in another. He barely had time to put cold items into his refrigerator. With all the strange new foods and brands, he stuck with minimal raw items. They had even picked up a set of pans and cooking utensils. When he finished, he turned and found her laying upon the long seat fashioned into the window sill. She had set her head upon a cushion, her eyes closed.
A stirring deep in his stomach made him turn away. He hated that feeling, hated that he felt he was moving on too fast, hated that everything he knew was gone.
Sera suddenly awoke, sat up so quick that she nearly fell to the floor. "Sorry!" she said quickly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep!" Her apology was so sincere that it drew a smile to his face. There was a part of her she didn't show too often, but he had seen it a few times already, her consideration for others, her embarrassment, her easy sincerity.
Again, he suddenly saw the red spot on her sleeve, the spot of blood that had browned as it dried. "Your arm," he said softly.
She looked, shrugged, and said, "Forgot all about it."
"What about lockjaw?" he questioned seriously.
"Vaccinated," she replied.
"Descombey," he told her, "1924."
She stared at him and then rubbed her head, realizing that the discovery had been during his lifetime. Rising to her feet, a moment of discomfort passing, she said, "So tomorrow morning," changing the subject, "I'll bring what you have left in your room and then we'll look at getting you some new clothes."
He nodded, replied, "I won't go too far tonight. It's late." Then he quickly said, "I should walk you home."
"That's sweet," she said, "But really, I'm fine walking back."
"It was an hour getting here."
Stepping back, she pulled open one of the light, gauzy blue curtains at the window where she had been sleeping. "I live right down there. Third building after the light. You can see it from here," she told him.
Walking up beside her, he followed where she pointed to.
"That fifth floor corner window, that's mine," she informed him and she added, "Don't be chivalrous, Cap. I'd rather you be here where I know you're safe."
"And how do I know you're safe?" he questioned. He turned to look at her, much too close for a man to be to a woman betrothed to another.
However, she didn't flinch, only said, "I'll turn on the light when I get up there," as if it were the only answer she could give him. "If," she began again, "you don't like it, I'll just lock you in your room and you'll have to wait until I get up and come get you in the morning."
He smiled, starting to believe that little she said was actually a bluff.
"Or this," she suddenly suggested and pulled a little rectangle from her pocket. She poked it, prodded it, and then waited for it to ring.
"Is that a phone?" he asked, staring at the object.
Behind him, on the desk, the phone without a rotary dial began to ring. He jumped and turned to face it. "Pick it up," she told him. Reaching out, he took the handset, placed it to his ear. "Now," she replied, setting her tiny phone to her ear, "you can walk me home."
He stood, dumbfounded, watching her leave. She waved from the door, closing it behind her and he heard her voice at his ear. "Sera?" he asked.
"I can hear you fine," she replied. He could hear the smile in her voice. He wondered if she enjoyed this too much, his bewilderment. "There's a lot to see in the world, Cap," she informed him, "Technology's come a long way, from small portable phones to space travel. Don't rush yourself, though. You're a man out of time and it's a scary place."
He looked out the window, watched her step out onto the sidewalk, wave behind her with one hand, the other hand holding the phone securely to her ear. "You tell me it's a scary place," he replied, "and walk outside, at night, by yourself."
"I kill people for a living, Cap," she told him, chuckling, "there isn't a soul on these streets that could scare me. It's kind of you to care, I do appreciate it, but you really don't have to worry about me."
"It's difficult to do, Miss."
"I'm not trying to change you Cap," she told him, "the world needs more men like you so don't think that's what I'm saying. Remember, I'm here to protect you, not the other way around."
He watched her enter her building, could hear her feet tapping on the steps as she ascended to her apartment. He listened to the key turn in the lock, the door shut behind her. Then she turned on the lights, the window she had pointed to came to life. She strode to the window, waved back at him, and said, "Good night Cap. I hope you sleep well outside of your box."
"Coming over for breakfast in the morning?" he offered.
"If you're cooking, I'll be there."
"See you at seven."
He hung up the phone, watched her draw her curtains, turn out the lights. Exhaustion settled over him and he only kicked off his shoes before laying flat on the mattress. Reaching over, he turned out the lamp that provided all the dim light in the room and sighed. Alone, without a distraction, the past came back to him. He pulled his pillow over his head and closed his eyes tight, tried to shut off his brain. The empty feeling that had subsided in Sera's presence roared back into existence and it was almost too much to bear.
Suddenly, his phone rang. Relief hit him and he jumped from his bed, crossing the room to grab the receiver. "Hello?" he asked.
"Cap?" Sera's voice came through. "I left my number next to your phone. If you need anything, anything at all. Can't sleep, can't figure out how to work the television, whatever, just call me. Okay?"
The concern he heard in her voice then was reassuring. He said, "Okay." Sera was there for him, to help him. There had been times he had wondered if she really cared about what he had gone through. When she had left, as abruptly as she had, he assumed that other than duty she was done with him. She had gotten him out into the world, that had been her job, her task. He wondered if she had intended to write him off as fine. But that phone call, before the final good night, told him he wasn't going to be alone. With her help, he was certain he would be able to pull through, even if it was only for a little while, a distraction until he could move on.
Sera Rhett Aubrey, S.H.I.E.L.D's Deadeye Sniper, was his guardian angel.