Disclaimer: If it's familiar, it's because it's not mine. Because if it was mine, it wouldn't be familiar.

Steve didn't mind reporters most of the time, but this one really was too much. She was just so persistent, not to mention clueless about the damage she would do, however unintentionally.

That was why Steve was here playing cat burglar, despite all the red flags in his mind telling him that he shouldn't be here. Normally, he'd listen to those red flags. But he couldn't. Not this time. There was too much at stake here.

He forced the window open and slid into the office. The house was silent and he could only hope that she wouldn't wake up and find him here. Shining his flashlight around, he found what he was looking for: her camera. It was at times like these he wished he had some of his new companions present, but he knew how to do this much. But after fiddling with it a little, he realized that seeing others do it a few times had not prepared him for replicating the task. He didn't care what Stark said: modern technology was complicated. He pressed at his earpiece. "Sam?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" The response startled him, sounding much louder than it was.

"I found the camera, but can't turn it on."

"Just start pushing buttons."

"I have been."

"Then take the card. At least she won't have the pictures."

He did so. He hadn't wanted to actually take anything, but Sam was right: it was the only way to destroy the evidence. After slipping the memory card into his pocket, he turned on his heel to make his exit out the window.

"Cap?"

"Yeah?"

"Might want to take more than just the card. Her computer, phone, anything the pictures might be on."

"What are you talking about, why?"

"I'll explain when you get back. And hey, might want to make it quick. I've got movement here."

Steve exhaled and looked around the office again. He already felt bad about the memory card. "You better have a good reason for it," he muttered as he reached for the laptop on her desk. There was no sign of her phone, but after a moment, Steve realized with a wince that it'd probably be in her room. He opened the office door to peer into the hallway. His only relief was that the house was small, meaning that the reporter's room would be easier to find. It was, in fact, the next room down, judging from what he saw through the open door.

She was sleeping with her back to him. Her nightstand was, thankfully, on the near side of the room. He crept in, lifted her phone, and slunk back out with hardly a sound. Back in her office, he pocketed her phone and tucked her laptop under his jacket.

"Cap, you coming?" came Sam's voice from the earpiece. "I've got five goons coming out."

Steve gave the room another once-over before he took the camera for good measure. His exit out the window wasn't the stealthiest, but there was no indication he had been heard. He eased the window shut.

"If we want to get in, we have to do it fast."

Steve pressed at his earpiece again. "I'm coming, Sam." Then he ran off into the night.

xXx

Two mornings later found the reporter puzzling over the return of her possessions and an anonymous note that read, "We apologize for the loss of your break-through story, but you'll find a better one." Taking up her camera, sure enough, the photos she'd taken of Steve Rogers undercover were gone. They were, however, replaced by a selfie of Captain America and the Falcon in front of an inferno, one that she realized represented the HYDRA warehouse that had burned down the night she had been burgled.

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