Disclaimer: Marvel is not mine. Avengers is not mine. If you think it is, please get therapy… Yes, I'm a snarky writer. I love you all, my sweeties! But yeah, not mine, so don't sue me!

Prologue

Captain Steve Rogers felt as close as he could like he was home. He'd been back in New York City for a while. SHIELD, of course, had him provided with an apartment, furnished and all in the style familiar to him. When he woke up that morning, he realized he needed to grab a few things at the store. It was almost November. It had been coming for a while, windy during the day and getting threateningly cold at night. He got out of bed and headed for the shower.

So he went through his normal routine. He hadn't ever gotten out of the habit of getting fully dressed before sitting down to breakfast. Studying the paper during breakfast, he saw a special listing for an event at the Central Park Zoo. He looked out the window at the sun shining out of a blue sky on a gorgeous day. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured today couldn't be a bad one for a walk.

Downing the rest of his Cheerios and the other half of his orange juice, he looked around, found his bomber jacket, and headed out the door.

There had been a blessed event at the Central Park Zoo – the large female snow leopard had birthed twins. Today would be the first day they would join their mother on display for the general public. Steve had never really been an animal person beyond the usual family dog. But seeing those two little gray fluffballs with their bright blue eyes tumbling around… He absolutely couldn't help standing about with the rest of the crowd going "ooh" and "aww!"

The seal tank was the only bit of the zoo that looked anything like how he remembered it. Even that had been cleaned up quite a bit, and now the sign on the side of the tank said "sea lions." Just a little while ago, he hadn't really known there was a difference. One of them in particular sat up on the big rocks, basking in the autumn sun. Steve found himself very reminded of Tony Stark, laughing as he turned away to go look at the penguins.

At the bottom edge of the tank, the viewing portion, were several small children and a couple in their twenties. The young lady had her hand pressed against the glass, looking at the fella with a sassy grin. Steve watched the guy put his hand to the glass as well. Out of curiosity, he touched the glass himself, yanking his hand back at how cold it turned out to be! Soon, the children surrounding the couple all looked at each other and joined in the competition. On the inside, the penguins watched the people in curiosity.

Next up, he came to the polar bears. Now this he had never seen before. He only remembered bears in the circus and they were never this… silly. The two in the enclosure seemed to be a mother and baby. The baby bear had his behind pressed up against the glass. As he scooted his backside up and down, he looked back there as if confused about why it still itched! After a while, the mother cuffed the small one about the head. She leaned down and nudged him over to a rocky little outcrop to show him how things were done. Steve couldn't help laughing at that one either.

After a while, a group that seemed to be a school group moved in on his chosen path. Not really in the mood to deal with a load of ill-behaved schoolchildren, Steve decided to vacate the area. He passed by, however, one of the strangest creatures he figured he'd ever seen. The sign on the side of the little aviary said this thing was called a "kakapo." At first, he had to tilt his head to make sure he was really seeing it. Bigger than a football, violently green, very, incredibly fat, it was a bird – a parrot to be exact! And it had the funniest little face, almost like a kitten in a large bird's body.

Shaking his head, he turned and headed for the exit with the kakapo bellowing after him, apparently excited by something. So, on he went, through the exit gate, past the young lady calling "Have a nice day!" Central Park opened up in brilliant color before him. He picked a path lined with glowing maple trees and started down it, his hands in his pockets and his red scarf up around his neck.

Up ahead, he saw a hot dog stand and his stomach growled.

The New York City autumn left nothing to be desired. Brilliant colors, a lovely breeze, and the sedate pace of an unhurried crowd… Steve had always been fond of that. Central Park had always been the one place where not everyone and their brother seemed to be in a constant hurry. For a good long time, he had settled on a park bench, just watching people go by. It still boggled his mind how much fashions had changed. Would he ever get used to it? Particularly the ladies' clothing…

Some people went by with dogs – a large, fluffy sheepdog stopped to sniff his knee and snuffle at him. Many couples went by holding hands. It wasn't quite time to cause mischief yet, but he'd heard people talking about Halloween. One girl screamed that she did not want to be Snow White. A crowd of nicely-dressed young ladies went by, speaking loudly of a coming party. Steve wondered if it might be the costumed soiree he'd gotten an invite to. Stark likely had another over-the-top showpiece in mind.

He got up and headed for his favorite fountain. It had always been a great place to watch the sun go down. Sighing a bit, more out of contentment than anything else, he leaned on the wrought-iron railing. The sun slowly descended over the New York City skyline. In the lavender bit of the eastern sky, tiny white star-dots appeared. The evening crowd had started to thin out, presumably to crowd into every eating establishment in the city. Steve hadn't really been hungry since that hot dog in the afternoon.

But he did push himself up off the railing and turn down another trail. He felt the urge to wander, just to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Oddly enough, he couldn't exactly put his finger on what he wanted to think about. But the park had always been equally beautiful at night. As long as he left before too terribly long, he'd probably avoid the crowd who caused trouble. He continued on down the trail, seeing no one in the immediate vicinity.

But then, twenty minutes later… He heard a deep, short, sharp noise. What was that? A golden mutt on a dirty blue leash sat next to one of the most forlorn-looking people Steve had ever seen. He wouldn't have stopped if she hadn't looked so young. His unavoidable "good guy complex" kicked in and he approached the rickety park bench. The girl didn't pick her head up off her curled-up knee.

"Hey… hey, miss?" he called, tilting his head see her face. A load of dark, dark brown hair obscured his view. "Miss? I need you to answer me – are you okay?"

She startled visibly, but she lifted her head to stare at him with haunted golden-green eyes. They looked very much like the front of a magazine cover Director Fury had given him… an Afghan girl. But this girl didn't quite look Arabic. She did have olive skin, but it had paled from lack of sun exposure. She did not look happy at his presence, tilting her head and narrowing those eyes. The dog seemed to tense beside her.

"You a cop?" she demanded, her voice a bit raspy.

He shook his head and stuck his hand out as a sign of good faith.

"No, ma'am, not a cop," he told her. "Just saw you and got a little worried. Can you tell me what you're doing out here?"

She continued scrutinizing him – he put his hand down.

"Why?" she asked, her voice still rough. The dog bristled at him. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

He nodded, keeping his responses careful.

"No, you've got every right to be here, I know that," he agreed with her. "Just concerned, that's all."

The girl looked up at him and seemed to find nothing worthy of distrust in his face.

"Mind if I have a seat?" He gestured to the place beside her on the bench. She nodded at the place, giving her consent. The dog calmed down a bit. "You look like something's on your mind. Where're you from?"

She continued to stare at him, as if trying to find some reason to run away.

"Georgia," she said shortly, rubbing the dog behind one ear.

Steve nodded, looking the girl up and down. She wore a lavender shirt with a beaten-up Hello Kitty logo on the front of it. He had never understood the 'skinny jeans' thing, nor why she wore a pair of bright pink ones. On her feet was a pair of worn gray sneakers with wide purple shoelaces. Having whacked the sleeves off of her black hooded sweatshirt left her shivering. Beside her and the dog sat a hunter-green bag with Mickey Mouse on the side.

"I knew a girl in Georgia once," he told her. This seemed to win him some points, because for the first time, she smiled at him. Then she coughed. "So, tell me, how old are you?"

And the smile vanished, the look of distrust firmly back in place as she scooted away from him on the bench.

"I'm twenty-five," she said, a little too quickly.

Steve smiled, but he did raise an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, really I'm twenty-one," she corrected herself, smiling at him through slightly scruffy, self-cut bangs.

Good-natured smile still in place, Steve looked her over again.

"Really?" he said, acting surprised. "For a gal who's both twenty-five and twenty-one, you look awfully sixteen to me."

And her cheeks turned flaming red – even the dog looked as if he had been caught for something.

"Okay, fine, I'm eighteen," she ground out.

He shook his head, the smile not leaving his face.

"… next month," she acquiesced.

Steve's smile widened and he re-offered his handshake.

"So, what's your name?" the girl asked him as she shook his hand.

Steve gave her his best military handshake.

"Captain Steve Rogers," he told her. "U.S. Army, not a cop."

Her golden-green eyes lit up, chasing out the distrust of him introducing himself as a captain.

"I'm Angel," she told him. "Angel Odell."

She and Steve dropped hands and he stood up.

"Well, I really should call the police so they can get hold of your parents," he informed her – immediately, her hand went into her giant purple bag. "But relax, I'm not going to do that."

Angel stared at him with her eyes narrowed once again.

"So what are you going to do?" she inquired, keeping her hand inside the dirty lavender messenger bag. Her key-chains rattled. "I really should go find a hotel room or something."

Steve shook his head. The wind picked up. A few pattering sounds told him it had started to rain and it would reach them soon with the wind. Angel tried to pull her useless hoodie closer around herself. The dog curled up on the ground.

"Under the circumstances, I think it'd be safer if you came back with me," he told her, taking off his jacket and draping it on her shoulders. "You can bring your friend."

She dropped the jacket on the bench, looking pale.

"No, I really would rather not…" she snapped.

Steve picked the jacket up and firmly put it back on her.

"Angel, I promise," he insisted. "I won't hurt you."

She got up, still studying him.

"So long as I don't have to go back…"