I could still remember the very first time I saw him.
It was in passing at the gym, in the halls and cafeteria. I'd heard of him long before I'd set eyes on him and even then, I'd expected something else.
For all the hype I'd expected a bit more.
I was never really around long enough to put my finger on what that more was when he'd woken up from the ice. Shield kept me busy. They made sure I was gone more than I was anywhere else. Normally that was great. It kept me busy. It helped me make things right. It helped me not think, not remember. If I stayed busy I didn't have to think about the past.
Then I met Steve.
It wasn't exactly a name you'd picture belonging to a super soldier.
Yet, it worked. It would pop up in my head at the weirdest most inopportune times and the more I saw him, spoke with him, was around him it became more present. It'd been seventeen days since the Battle of New York and it bounced around my head like a ping pong ball.
Tomorrow I had to go to France for work so I'd given up.
Between the briefings, meetings, briefings, strategy meetings, appointments and more meetings we hadn't had any time alone. Every elevator seemed to be full of people. The gym was never empty and we weren't stupid. He was watched all the time. I had quite the impressive list of enemies. If I wanted to have something that was just mine I would have to wrap it up safely, put it in a special place and hide it.
I wasn't in love.
I doubted I was capable of that particular emotion.
But there was something more when we were alone in the gym together, or when the cafeteria was empty at two in the morning. When we could talk to one another without people milling around looking at us like something to be put behind a locked door and observed.
When I heard the lock turn in my small dark apartment, I sat up straight as if I'd been shot. It woke me from a dead sleep. That noise sent me barreling out of bed before I could think twice. I didn't turn a light on as I tripped hurrying out of my bedroom, heart pounding in anticipation.
I knew it was him.
A little atomic clock that shone numbers on my ceiling told me it was very close to three in the morning. I didn't care what time it was, it could have been any hour of the day.
Another lock slid, echoing loud as a gunshot.
I tripped over a pair of shoes and swore loudly when my shin hit a piece of furniture.
Oh that hurt!
Bright stars erupted into my vision as pain fire-worked in my lower leg. Profanities were many as I stumbled over to the door of my apartment. With a few swipes I got the four chains off as the last deadbolt slid out.
When I yanked the door open Steve slid in and I peered down the hall to see if anyone appeared, if any doors opened or otherwise.
"I circled your block a few times and took the stairs up here. I didn't see anyone out there," came his voice inside my apartment. "I tried to come before tonight but I'm being followed. I don't know by who though. I think by someone at Shield."
Everything seemed to be clear so I shut the door and started to flip locks.
I turned and threw my arms around him, squeezing him tightly as I wished I could have days ago. My arms wrapped around his waist. I buried my face in his coat just to take in the feeling of him being alive. When his arms wrapped around me I closed my eyes.
We'd talked since New York.
We'd gone to most all of the same meetings and briefings and appointments. We rode back on the same plane. We'd grabbed food at the cafeteria and went to the gym. But it was different when you knew that people were watching, observing, enemies could be anywhere. It was hard to be your true self when most people knew you as your codename.
"Will you be in France long," he breathed against the top of my head eventually.
I didn't want to let him go.
I didn't want to give up that unconditional comfort that expected nothing in return.
But I did, I had to let go of him. So I plastered on a tired smile, loosened my grip and glanced up at him after I reached over to turn the lights on in my small but modern apartment. It had come fully furnished and my only contribution had been a few things in the fridge and closet. I could leave it behind at a moment's notice.
"A week or two. I'm not sure. You want some coffee? A beer? A bottle of water?"
He told me he was fine and a little bit of disappointment hit at the thought he'd leave as soon as he came, when he unzipped and shed his coat that pesky feeling evaporated. I could go for a bottle of water myself and headed that way. Into the open space that was the kitchen, dining area and living room with a view of the capitol that was my most recent domicile.
He was already sitting down in a chair that looked impossibly small for his frame when I was done.
"You doing ok? Any more nightmares?"
I grabbed a box of crackers from the counter that I'd noticed he'd liked as I made my way to my spartan dining room table. Not that I was neat or anything. I just didn't have much of anything in my life outside of my work. My apartment was just a place for me to sleep and do laundry.
He caught the box from the air when I tossed it, reflexes clearly on pointe.
In response to his question I made a face, "Eh…they've calmed down over the past few days. I think staying away from the TV and twenty-four hour news cycle has helped. Are you sleeping?"
It did not escape my notice that he immediately opened the box and grabbed a few crackers. "Same…that Shield doctor wants to send me to a counselor to make sure I am ready to go back in the field."
I made a face and he nodded in agreement.
"Just make something up. I told him I was dreaming about flying on a unicorn over a fully fixed up New York City. Get creative. I swear…if that guy knew what I really dreamed about he'd run out of his office screaming."
A look of complete understanding crossed his face as he again nodded. "Like flying alien centipedes flying through a major metropolitan area, killing people, ripping it apart like a school diorama?"
"Yeah leave them out when you go see him," was my suggestion. I gave him a smile that I hoped was supportive and reached across the table to put my hand on his. He didn't pull his hand away or act embarrassed. Instead he put the box of crackers down and covered my hand with his. I wasn't good with this kind of stuff. It wasn't exactly taught to girls training to be assassins. Since he was from another time entirely I felt comfortable in the knowledge that it would be new territory for him too.
"Fury offered me a position in shield."
I perked right up at that piece of information.
His hand stayed on mine and gave it a squeeze, "I took it. I'll start training this week."
If that didn't give me a weird feeling of something fluttery and unfamiliar. Seeing more of him would be a good thing I lied to myself. Having him as a friend I saw more often was what I wanted, I continued to lie to myself. I may not have been current on the intricacies of friendships, but I knew friends didn't hide their friendship when out in public. Friends didn't pretend they were just colleagues and sneak off to see one another, they didn't hide the extent of their friendship from the people around them.
And yet, I couldn't help but feel like a little child who'd found something precious and hid it so it wasn't taken away and destroyed, or used against me.
Steve cupped my hand between both of his and brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment then gave my hand another squeeze. "I'm glad you're here. I've missed you."
"I missed you too."
His breath was warm against my fingers and then he let my hand go back to the table, but I entwined our fingers to keep that touch, that contact.
"It was weird pretending to not know you," he confessed. "But it's kind of nice to just be Steve."
He had no idea.
"I can't believe you actually called me ma'am." Then, for no other reason than I was curious, I asked, "What'd you think of Bruce?"
His eyebrows met as he considered my question.
So as not to be too weird I was about to ask his impressions of Tony and Thor, but he spoke up almost uncomfortably.
"I've never seen anyone quite like him. Back when…before I went in the ice…I never pictured a scientist surviving that catastrophic of an accident, or turning into a big green rage monster. It takes a minute to get used to, that's for sure." Then he tilted his head and as if taking a peek into my mind he asked, "He's the guy Fury has you following and keeping tabs on? To be sure he doesn't…go off into space like Thor?"
Quietly I nodded, Steve was the only person I had ever confided in and that was one of the things I shared. I'd never had any issue following someone around before in my years working for Shield. But there was something off-putting about following Bruce around the globe. He hadn't asked for what happened to him, he never wanted to become Hulk.
"He's spending time with Tony in New York? Right? That should give you some breathing room."
A breath came out a little quicker than I'd expected but I agreed. "Yeah, they're bro-ing it up now so that'll give me some time."
His eyebrows rose in a silent question.
"Guy time," I explained, then pulled my hand free so I could open my bottle of water. "You sure you don't want something to drink?"
He shook his head then glanced out at the vast bounty of my apartment. Something on the tip of his tongue. When he eventually looked back at me I was ready for his question.
"Would you mind if I slept on your couch?"
It was not the first time he asked.
Because he was that old soul he quickly added, "If not I completely understand. It's late. You probably have an early morning."
I gave him my most disapproving look, "Steve you're being ridiculous. You know where the hall closet is. Grab a pillow and blankets." Upon seeing that hint of relief and knowing how he felt about staying at the Shield dorms, I continued as casually as possible. "You know you're free to stay here while I'm gone. If anyone asks just say you're house sitting for me."
He sort of sagged into that poor chair.
Something spurred him to look back my way and ask, "Wait…what's wrong with ma'am?"
