Thanks for half-dozen or so reviews and requests for continuations. Not as many as I wanted, but here's Part 2, because this story is kinda writing itself thus far. Read and enjoy! Also, I love reviews. PLEASE review. Please?


Part 2

"Someone's watching you." Rebekah doesn't look away from the view of the clouds out the window of the helicarrier.

She shrugs. "He's always watching me. Doesn't quite trust me yet, I expect."

"Why wouldn't he trust you?"

"Because I'm new. Haven't proved that I deserve to be here," she sighs.

"But you two know each other, don't you? At least that's what he told me."

Rebekah turns to look at her companion, confused, and is shocked to find herself staring at the very man she'd thought was the topic of their conversation. "Captain Rogers. Um, who—" Realization dawns. Clint. Hawkeye. "Right. Agent Barton. Yeah, we've met before, but that was years ago."

He frowns. "It seemed like you two knew each other better than that."

She purses her lips. "Cap, you seem like a good guy. Don't look for answers you'll wish you hadn't found."

She turns to go, and he follows her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to pry. Who did you think I was talking about?"

"What? Oh, no one. Have you had lunch?"

"It's three in the afternoon. You haven't eaten lunch yet?" He's watching her again, she can feel it, but this time, she can also feel the concern in his gaze, and it's unnerving.

"Um, no. I guess I just lost track of time," Rebekah checks her watch just to be sure. Somehow she's spent four hours staring out that window. People must think she's mad.

"Would you like some company?"

"That'd be great," she smiles, and he slows his strides to keep pace with her until they reach the mess hall and he steps forward to open the door for her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, ma'am." He's wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscle-y forearms, and Rebekah has to force herself to tear her eyes away from them. God, what is it with her and arms? She steps past him and he motions to a table and pulls out a chair for her.

She stares at it skeptically. "I still have to get my food, Cap."

"I'll get it for you. What do you want?"

She shakes her head and heads back toward the kitchen. "Come on. I've got backstage passes."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just follow me." She pushes through the swinging doors before he can get to them and holds it open just long enough for him to step through behind her. She grins at the cook who's lounging in the back corner of the kitchen. "Hey, Martin. I'm just gonna grab a bite. Need a break?"

"Sure thing, Becky. Just clean up when you're done. I'll be back in an hour to start on dinner."

The Captain watches Martin go and frowns down at Rebekah. "Are we supposed to be back here?"

She smiles up at him. "First rule of a joint like this? Make friends with the cooks." She begins rummaging through the refrigerator. "Want anything?"

"No, thank you." He leans against the counter and watches her move around the room.

Within a matter of minutes, she's made herself a sandwich, poured herself a glass of juice, and is perched on one of the counters with her plate balanced on her lap. "So tell me about yourself, Captain Rogers."

"Steve. You can call me Steve."

"Alright, Steve. Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" She can tell he's uncomfortable, and she's not sure why. He's the one who's always staring at her.

"Vital statistics. Medical records. Favorite bands and movies. Whatever you want to tell me. Although I should tell you I'm here not only to help Dr. Banner and Jane but to help out in the infirmary if I'm needed, so I can access your medical records pretty easily."

He chuckles. "Well, there's not much to see there, anyways. Had a procedure done a few… decades back, got frozen in ice for a while, slept for a really long time, and that's really all there is to tell as far as my medical records go. Vital statistics… I'm 6'2", 220 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, born in Brooklyn on July 4, 1920... All of my favorite musicians are from when I was young—you know, Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, and quite a bit of Classical music. You know, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and Mozart and such…"

Rebekah's face lights up. "You… like Bing?"

"Sure. He's great. You like him?"

Rebekah grins. "I love him. There's no one better. Except maybe Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin…"

He shakes his head. "Who?"

"Oh, that's right. They were… between your time?" She giggles. "You'll have to come over some time and we'll listen to them."

"Come over… to your room?"

She narrows her eyes at him for a moment, then softens. "Trust me, Cap—Steve. There's nothing wrong with it. No one would ever think you were up to any mischief."

He pauses, then, "Well, if you're sure it's alright…"

"Of course it's alright. When are you free?"

"How about lunchtime tomorrow?" he suggests.

She smiles brightly. "That sounds perfect."

The metal doors creak open softly and Agent Barton steps in. "Captain. Fury's looking for you."

"Oh, alright. I'll be right there." The Captain flashes a smile at Rebekah. "Lunch tomorrow?"

She grins. "Lunch tomorrow."

"I'll see you then, ma'am."

"See you then, Steve." She waves as he disappears out the door and down the hall.

"What are you doing, Becks?" Barton flashes Rebekah a disapproving look.

She shrugs. "I'm not doing anything. He offered to keep me company since I hadn't had lunch yet. He's a nice guy. That's all."

Barton nods, clearly still unconvinced. "I see."


So there it is. Part 3 coming soon. REVIEW PLEASE! =) And thanks for reading!