Chapter One: Second Meetings

The vast halls of one of the many SHEILD centers were like a labyrinth to those not familiar with them. My light boots made no sound as they connected with the tiled floor of the hall. My steps were silent and quick as I made my way to the meeting Fury was holding in one of the conference rooms; the meeting I was informed about roughly seven minutes ago.

Rounding a corner, I willed open a set of double doors to reveal the exact conference room I was searching for. The director stood at the table and glanced at me with his one good eye. Director Fury was a dark man of average height though his carriage somehow made everyone shrink in his presence. His black leather duster blended in with the rest of his clothes and boots giving him the look of one large shadow. Perhaps that was what made the newer agents fear him on sight; the image of a shadow gliding through their lives barking orders and harsh words if met with the failure to comply. Nick Fury was nothing soft.

"Agent Fyres, how nice of you to join us," irritation and sarcasm mixed in his voice.

"How nice, indeed, no thanks to you," I fired back taking my usual seat. Fury ignored my comment and picked up a remote. The overhead projector flickered to life as Fury brought up a presentation.

"As most of you know, a man was discovered in the arctic sometime last night and if you didn't know- now you do. Now normally this wouldn't be a concern of SHIELD but his clothes and matching vibranium shield lead us to believe that he is the super-soldier engineered by Dr, Erskine in the 1940's." A chorus of whispers went around the table as I clenched my teeth nervously. The projector showed various pictures of a muscular blonde man caged in ice at various stages of defrostation. "Now he has been thawed out and is staying with us for observation. After these 70-something years it has become evident that another serum is not a likely but we can't exactly let him go out into this new time. Those of you here are going to observe him, monitor him, and try and get him to assimilate as quickly as possible. We are not a babysitting service." Fury looked around at us, his hard gaze unwavering; practically daring us to voice an inquiry. When he met none he continued, "That is all. Now go and do your jobs."

Everyone hurried to gather their things and rid themselves of the imposing director. One brave soul, a small Korean woman, addressed him. "What is his name?" Fury glanced at the photos and answered.

"Steve Rogers."

Days had gone by and I tried to leave my room as little as possible after given the assignment of assimilating the super-soldier. I admit I was childish about avoiding the assignment as I had subjected myself to telling others I was ill and snuck around during the night to restock my fridge but I couldn't bring myself to actually go and speak with the man out of time. But Fury was having none of that.

A week after the meeting, my door opened and the director entered, his signature long coat billowing behind him like a living shadow. His face was stern like usual but there was a deep anger there that he rarely turned on me.

"How are you Andy? You look well. You look pretty damn well for someone who hasn't left their room for practically a week. What is this I hear about you not seeing Rogers like I ordered?" His words came out in a rush as his temper flared. I had no answer and I didn't deny his accusations and remained silent. Realizing I wasn't going to fight him on this he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Look, he isn't listening to anyone really, he's stubborn, confused, and he won't talk. We need that silver tongue of yours, Fyres."

I nodded. "Alright. I shall be there shortly." I spoke low but Fury's trained ears heard me as he gave me a curt nod then left.

After a short shower I dressed in my usual attire which consisted of black trousers and a deep purple tunic. I admired the swirling silver decals that ran across the durable fabric before I pulled my almost-black hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. A once over in the mirror deemed that I was decent and I left to visit the soldier.

The walk to where the captain was kept was not as long as I hoped. Upon entering I found that the room was decorated in the style one would find in the 1940s complete with war posters, light fixtures and a boxing ring. There was even the dull wash of sepia all over the room from the light bulbs. Every detail was to the "T" but something about it just seemed off, as if the furnishings themselves knew they were imposters. The sound of Fury's voice brought me out of my haze and back to the present.

"I've brought someone new today, Mr. Rogers." The man in question was across the room facing away from us as he beat the punching bag in front of him.

"It's been a week already. Can't you see that I'm fine?" The soldier beat the bag with more enthusiasm, an obvious sign that he was not fine but rather angry.

"You've been asleep for 70 year, cap. It's expected that you experience shock and mild PTSD. We are trying to help you!" Fury motioned me closer and I took hesitant steps forward.

"I'm fine! I don't need a shrink or a doctor or a scientist. I. Am. Fine!" With one last punch, the bag broke off the chain and flew a couple yards away from the blonde. He sighed and went to retrieve the dead weight as Fur smiled placed me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders.

"But you see, Agent Fyres is none of those things. Her skill set is much more… unusual… But she was once stranded in an unfamiliar world. I figured maybe you two could relate to one another."

The captain kept his eyes on the ground as he walked back and reattached the bag. It was evident he was ignoring the SHIELD director. The older man gave me a push and I walked up behind the soldier. My voice was uncharacteristically quiet as I spoke, "There is a difference between pity and empathy, Captain." The man whipped around, his blue eyes wide as he stared at me. The cerulean eyes searched my face then my eyes as his breath caught. Taking a careful step forward he found his voice. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Andy?" I gave a small but genuine smile.

"Hello, again, Steve."