Hi Readers! I decided to start a new story about the potential hidden women in Cap's life that started right when Winter Soldier was taking place. I hope you enjoy this little Prologue! Please feel free to comment/favorite/follow!
Marylin could remember the first time she saw Captain America. Freshly out of college with a significant contract being drafted up for the Smithsonian, Marylin found herself walking to Grand Central Station to catch the Accela Train to Washington D.C. with nothing more than the extremely large backpacking pack that she was trying to maneuver gracefully through the busy lunch rush. The typical New York City noise along the street suddenly changed as a scream of terror began to sweep through the streets. People started to point to the sky when suddenly a beam of light shot up from Stark Tower and began to expand, creating a hole that allowed aliens to come down to Midtown.
Without hesitation, Marylin grabbed her camera from the top compartment and began to move through the streets, trying to get a better look at what was coming after the civilians. Grey creatures began to sweep through the sky, and Marylin snapped photo after photo. Soon other people started to combat the grey figures in the air. The classic red suit made an appearance shortly followed by a singular quinjet landing right in front of the terminal. Three figures stepped out but before Marylin could get a good look a flash of lightening distracted her. A man came flying down, dressed in silver and red armor. He met up with the three people who exited the quinjet and where now stood huddled, devising a plan. While Marylin knew it wasn't wise to continue to stand right where a battle was going to be fixated, she couldn't help but stay when she finally saw him.
Captain America.
Growing up Marylin remembered reading the comics about how a boy from Brooklyn who by the time he was assumed to become an adult had lost both his father and his mother. But never did she believe Captain America himself would actually stand to fight in the 21st century. But in true patriotism fashion, he was decked out in his red, white and blue suit, and taking the lead with his new comrades. Smiling to herself, Marylin raised her camera and began taking photographs.
Now, Marylin wasn't a paparazzi. In fact, the reason why she was going down to the Smithsonian (which she figured the train would probably be delayed thanks to these new invaders) was that, during her time at New York University, Marylin studied Business and Photography. The dream was to be able to open up her own studio and maybe be able to print more candid shots in a museum one day. However, her time at NYU proved to be more challenging than she expected and Marylin traveled the globe. Semesters abroad in South Africa, Japan, Italy, and Brazil provided her ample opportunity to reach out to the local communities and begin a blog with stories about the people she came across and would photograph. The blog got enough of a following that the Smithsonian and National Geographic both started to reach out to her in regards to her talent and plans after graduation. The Amtrak train was to take her straight to DC where she would sign her life away to become a photographer for the Smithsonian while also being allowed to continue her original tours scheduled by National Geographic. It was literally every photography students dream job straight out of college.
During the duration of what would be later coined "The Battle of New York," Marylin began to document the event. Dodging building debris, alien ships, and the superheroes themselves, the soft shutter of her camera rung out over the cries of battle. Besides taking the time to document the kindness and ferocity of these superheroes and police officers, Marylin extended help where she could. Her knowledge of New York's subways helped shelter many people evacuating from the buildings in the mists of the war zone.
By the end of the Battle, as Iron Man came crashing down into the arms of the Hulk, Marylin's kinky hair was pulled from her tight bun waving everywhere. The light freckles on her cheeks were shiny with sweat, but her camera's memory stick was almost entirely filled with what she was sure were authentic shots of today's small and large victories.
The first day she met Steve Rodgers was very different than the day when she first laid eyes on Captain America. While the public made a common mistake to mold the two men together, Steve Rodgers' temperament couldn't be further from his alter ego's persona.
It was announced within her first three months of working for both major companies that there was a need to document the superheroes, specifically starting with the oldest serving one; Captain America. Historians began to pour in explaining how to set up the timeline of the Captain's exhibition. It took almost a year to complete the exhibit, and when Steve Rodgers was emailed in regards to his willingness to discuss his past and create videos for the exhibition, he politely declined via a handwritten note sent in the mail. Marylin couldn't help but smirk when she saw the sight of the historians geeking out over his perfect penmanship in the simple letter.
However, the exact day Marylin saw him she almost missed him in the crowd. Working at the Smithsonian had its perks and on January 9th, 2014, she decided for her lunch she would pick up food in the Air and Space Museum's café and walk through the exhibit of her childhood hero. She nearly spilled her lemonade all over a small kid when she bumped into him. Trying to apologize, she realized the boy wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead, he was looking ahead at a man.
The man was adorned with a simple blue baseball cap, leather jacket, and jeans. He was quietly raising an index finger to his mouth and gave the boy a soft smile. Her eyes widened while she recognized the features of this man. There he was, Steve Rodgers himself. He noticed her suddenly, offered her a more forced smile which she replied with an awkward wave with the lemonade. His smile became genuine at the gesture, and he turned to walk away.
The image of his forlorn look as he turned away made Marylin want to go after him while also giving him all the space he could ever ask for. The emotion sparking the memories of the children who grew up in the foster homes with her mirroring the same bleak sentiment while waiting for an answer about where they would go next.
Quickly Marylin found a trashcan and dumped her lunch in there and moved to the exit of the exhibit. She was sure Steve would want privacy while going through the memorial to his life and legacy, but she was also convinced she could provide him with some comfort before he left the Smithsonian for the day. It took him almost 2 hours to experience his own life before walking out of the exhibit, and towards the bench Marylin found herself waiting on. She was staring at her phone, trying to answer emails while he moved to sit next to her.
"Listen, I'm sure you are a huge fan, and I appreciate you not making a scene in the middle of that exhibit. Is there anything I can do for you? Tony once talked to me about selfies being popular with the fans?" Steve trailed, looking to Marylin for some sort of recognition but all Steve could see was the confusion etched across her face.
"Hi, Steve. I mean… I'm a fan, I guess. But I'm actually here to show you some pictures I have of you." Marylin immediately recognized her mistake when Steve's posture tensed and a stern look came across his brow. "Oh my gosh. I don't mean… Sorry… My name is Marylin Joyce Smith. I work here at the Smithsonian. I'm also a photographer for the National Geographic. It is my job to take photos but also maintain photographs here in the collections. But, I wanted to, if you were up for it, show you some of our private collections. You know, photos that didn't make it out to the exhibit because they were too personal."
Before Steve could open his mouth, Marylin began talking again. "I know you sent that really nice handwritten letter to the historians but I just want to let you know this isn't part of their work and I mean, they are a bunch of snots anyways, and I was only called in to consult about imaging-"
"Ma'am. I appreciate it. I would like to see them if you don't mind. By the way," he extended a hand towards her. "I'm Steve Rodgers. But you can call me Steve."
A broad, genuine grin stretched across Marylin's face as she grasped Steve's hand.
"Pleasure to meet you."