A/N: A big thank you to MG and XxAlexMarihaReyesxX for their reviews, and thank you to all of you who've favorited and followed this story. It's been wonderfully encouraging to hear back from the readers! I want to keep going with this story very much, and seeing the support it's starting to build is very reassuring to this insecure author, lol. It's very much appreciated. :)
As always, please read and enjoy.
He was absolutely unprepared for what was waiting for him behind that door.
Steve fought back the smirk that was threatening to curve his lips, acutely aware of the small, anxious brunette that was right behind him, peeking around his shoulder, her fingers curling tightly into the back of his jacket. Boy, he hoped that she wasn't going to make that a habit. It made him feel like an over-sized teddy bear she was too timid to keep from hiding her face behind.
And from the fleeting glimpses he'd caught of what he thought to be her real personality, timid wasn't even in the ballpark.
Which really made her reactions since waking up all the more disturbing. Kinda funny, sometimes, but mostly disturbing.
He glanced down at her, half-tempted to just pull her around him and set her firmly in front, make her see that there was nothing to be afraid of. He had dismissed the thought as soon as it had occurred to him. Bullying her wasn't going to get them anywhere, and it sure as hell wasn't going to do anything for him other than make him feel like crap. So, he stood in the middle of the doorway, scanning the room for boogeymen while simultaneously keeping an eye on his charge to make sure she didn't try to run for it again.
"I don't see anything," he remarked to her, striding into the room and dragging her behind him.
"It was here," she murmured, almost too softly for him to catch. She pointed around him towards the small black television squatting on the dresser. "It was in that, but then it...moved."
He hummed noncommittally and stepped closer to the television. As he moved, their reflection slid across the screen and he felt Ellie jump behind him with a sharp intake of breath. He tried to hold back a laugh, a snort escaping his nose.
"That's a reflection, Ellie."
He clearly wasn't very successful at hiding his amusement, since she leaned stepped out from behind him, eyes flashing, although they were still wide.
"Re...reflection?"
"Yeah." He stepped towards the television and tapped the thick screen, his nail pinging against the glass. "See? It's like looking into water and you see your own face looking back at you. Nothing that will hurt you."
She looked doubtful, but edged closer to him, curiosity seeming to begin to win over her trepidation.
"But...it...it followed me," she gestured to the closed bathroom door. "It was in there." Then she pointed at the doorknob behind them, frowning. "And it was there, but darker, smaller."
Steve leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.
"Reflections do that. That's what makes it a reflection. You move, it moves at the same time. You're looking at yourself moving, see?"
He half-turned and lifted his hand in a small wave. His image in the screen did the same. Then he turned back around and pointed at the door. "Watch." He repeated the motion towards the door as she followed his line of sight.
"I...see," she said, but he thought she still looked uneasy. He waited as she seemed to process this new information, glancing between the television and the door. When she met his eyes, it was with uncertainty. "But...why?"
He frowned at her, lost.
"Why what?"
"Why..." She was quiet for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, which he figured meant that she was thinking hard about something. She pressed on. "Why is the reflection here?" Her fingertips reached past him to touch the cold smoothness of the t.v. screen hesitantly.
He bit back the groan that was building in his throat, scrubbing a hand across his face. This was going to be the equivalent of going around his elbow to get to his ass. Lifting his head, he rapped his knuckles sharply against the screen.
"We call this a television. When you turn it on, it plays moving pictures."
He scooped up the remote that was resting neatly on the top of the set while gently tugging on the sleeve of her blouse to pull her back a little. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was completely confused, but he forged ahead, hoping that the explanation he had in mind would answer her questions, or at least make her comfortable enough in the room that she wouldn't fly through the door like the hounds of hell were after her every time someone came by. Without warning, an image of Ellie dashing, wide-eyed and flushed into the waiting arms of Nick Fury rose unbidden in his minds eye, and he had to fight himself again to keep from laughing, his lips twitching madly. At her curious glance, he cleared his throat and pressed the red power button on the remote. The screen flickered for a brief moment before bright color burst across its surface. It was a musical from not long after the war. He remembered watching it after Stark, of all people, had recommended it as a 'classic'. Seven Brides or something like that. It had been a pretty entertaining film. He'd enjoyed it, actually, although he'd never admit it to that jackass.
Steve glanced at Ellie from the corner of his eye, watching her watch the screen, her eyes round and her lips parted. She seemed awed, even intrigued, and thankfully, completely unafraid.
"I can't tell you everything about how it works, but, basically, the screen is reflective so that, when you turn on the television, you can see the picture."
As he gestured, she stepped forward, her fingers reaching out and brushing against the vibrant, whirling colors. Couples were line dancing, spinning and smiling as they moved across the unfinished floor of what was eventually going to be a barn. Her other hand came up, fingers curling around the edge of the television as she peered around it, at it's back.
"This are the people within?" she asked, a breathless quality to her voice as her eyes rapidly tried to follow every movement made on the screen.
"No. There's nothing in there but electronics."
She turned around to look back at him quizzically.
"E...elec..tronics?"
He grinned at her, lifting a finger to tap at the base of his throat.
"Yeah, larger versions of what you've got there on your neck. They project the picture up onto the screen there so that you can see it. And these," he moved back towards her, reaching around her arm to flick his finger against the base of the t.v. "These are called speakers. When I touch this button, you can hear the sound of the picture."
He demonstrated, turning up the volume and suddenly the cheerful, fast-paced strains of a guitar, a fiddle, and the stomping feet of the characters burst out of the television, startling Ellie, who jumped back with a squawk of surprise. She couldn't get very far though. As soon as she started to back up, she bumped into Steve, who automatically put his hands on her waist to steady her. She jerked her head back to stare up at him, grey-green eyes wider than he'd seen them yet (and he thought that was a feat in and of itself). He tried, he really tried, not to laugh, but it was just too comical to see her with her legs tangled around themselves, off-balance, and with probably the goofiest mixture of fright and incredulity on her face that he couldn't help it.
It bubbled up from his belly, a rough chuckle rushing past his lips as they curved into a wide grin. Her brows drew together in a fierce scowl, but it only proved to be fuel for the fire. The harder she stared at him, the harder he laughed. She started struggling against him, trying to find her balance again so that she could push off and stand on her own, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but all she could manage was to scrap the slick soles of her still new boots against the cheap carpet. She had no traction, and when she tried to heave herself up and away from him, she only ended up tangling her feet further, pushing more of her slight weight against his chest. He could sworn that her grunt was one of indignation. Still chuckling, Steve tightened his hold around her waist and gently lifted her up.
His amusement faded altogether at how light she felt, and while part of that could be blamed on her small stature, he knew that it had a lot more to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten anything since that afternoon, which was the first meal she'd had in a few centuries. Setting her down on her feet just to the side of him, he ignored her glower, instead asking,
"You hungry?"
She opened her mouth, probably to deny it, but then suddenly shut it with a snap, and nodded.
He leaned down a little closer to her, dipping his head forward to catch her eyes with his. "Are you gonna be alright in here by yourself for a minute?"
Her gaze darted towards the closed bathroom door for a second, and he saw her swallow hard. Then she nodded again, sharply. Patting her shoulder, he moved past her, shutting the door behind him and strode up the hall, his strides long and rapid.
He fished around in the front pockets of his jeans as he took a left into a small vending area, pulling out a few crumbled bills and some change. He fed the money into the machines, pulling out a couple of cokes, some cold sandwiches, and several bags of chips. Junk food, but that might actually be good for her at the moment. Juggling the food stuffs around in his arms, he quickly walked back down the hall, fumbling with the doorknob around one of the soda bottles before managing to open the door, kicking it shut with the heel of his boot.
Ellie was sitting in the middle of her little bed, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, her chin resting comfortably on her right knee. He shot her a crooked smile as he set everything down neatly on the little desk in the corner.
"That doesn't look very comfortable," he commented lightly, watching from the corner of his eye as she shifted a little.
She didn't reply, staring at him when he crossed the room and offered her a simple ham and cheese, along with a cold bottle. Carefully, she reached out and took them from his outstretched hand, eyeing them quizzically. She lowered her knees, then scooted to the edge of the bed. Picking up his own roast beef sandwich, he settled into the desk chair, leaning back and stretching out his long legs. Cradling the chilly drink between her knees, Ellie slowly unwrapped the sandwich, sniffing at it uncertainly. Then she took a tentative nibble.
Steve raised his eyebrows, his roast beef still half wrapped as he watched her. "Does it pass inspection?"
Swallowing, Ellie frowned for a minute, looking down at the sandwich hard before glancing up and nodding slowly.
"It is...good."
"Good," he replied with a smile, then took a huge bite out of his own sandwich.
They ate in relative silence, Ellie eating much slower, as if she felt a need to taste every bite that passed her lips. He could relate. The first meal he'd had after waking up was a twelve-ounce sirloin, three huge helpings of fries, and the biggest bottle of coke he'd ever seen. He'd never eaten so meticulously in his life. Hell, he'd damn near licked the plate. And he still took his time whenever he got his hands on a good bacon cheeseburger.
When she'd finished, he showed her how to open the bag of potato chips. He'd given her a bag of original, figuring it was better to start slow. She'd been hit with a lot over the last couple of hours. Presenting her with the sheer amount of options she could have just concerning food would have probably overwhelmed her, if her reactions so far had been anything to go by. Better to hit her with that later, when she'd had a little more time to adapt.
He wasn't even sure he ever wanted to teach her how to change channels on the television.
That was when a disturbing thought struck him, and he froze, the lip of his coke bottle barely touching his lips. His gaze traveled to the bathroom door, now slightly ajar. From this angle, he could see the simple corner shower, a concrete and tile half-wall rising up on the near side, like ones you'd find in a locker room. The shower head was small, the single tap beneath it a small, clear plastic knob. There was a soap dish in the corner, a thick, white bar still neatly wrapped in its package. His gaze slid to Ellie, who was quietly munching on the potato chips. She had crossed her legs at the ankles, the toes of her left boot scraping lightly against the carpet as she plucked another chip out of the bag.
Was he going to have to-
No...Agent Hill had to have shown her how that worked. She had to. He suddenly swallowed hard and lowered the bottle to rest against his thigh, twisting the cap between the fingers of his other hand.
But what if she hadn't?
A blush started to creep up his cheeks.
She must have. They'd been in that room a long time. Or it had seemed like a long time to him, standing in the hall, watching the minutes crawl by on the clock hanging on the opposite wall. Explaining clothing couldn't have taken up as much time as they had spent in there. Sure, it had been something like a changing room, but there were probably shower stalls in there...somewhere. Steve scowled to himself. Even if she hadn't, he'd just have to ask her to.
Shaking away the discomfort he felt at that turn of thought, he cleared his throat. At the sound, Ellie looked up, one cheek bulging. The sight made him smirk. She dipped her fingers into the bag, coming up with greasy crumbs. She licked her fingers greedily, sucking on each fingertip as her eyes glanced around for another bag. Steve picked one up from the desk and tossed it to her. She caught it deftly, tearing it open quickly and pulling out a handful.
"Nice to see a girl who likes her food."
She tilted her head at him, brows drawing together as she chewed.
"Why would I not?"
He shrugged.
"These days, people seem to have a love-hate relationship with it."
That only made her frown harder.
"Food is food. You eat, you survive. Why would you attach yourself to your meal?"
Steve's smile widened.
"You know, that's a good question." He jerked his chin in the direction of the now empty snack bag. "Done for now?"
She nodded and he got up, taking the sandwich wrapper and crinkled plastic from her hands and depositing them in the waste basket. After demonstrating how to untwist the cap of her soda, he watched her take a sip, chuckling when her expression lit up with pleasure at the taste.
"You like it?" he grinned, his hands on his hips.
She nodded eagerly, taking a long pull of the dark soda before lowering it with a hum of approval.
"What is it?" she asked, looking up at him with bright eyes.
"It's Coca-Cola, but most people just call it 'coke'."
She held the bottle up, squinting at it under the artificial light. "Coke." she repeated, then took another sip.
"Take it easy, now, that stuff tends to wake people up. And you need to go to sleep soon," he cautioned her.
At his words, she exhaled heavily, glancing down at the flat pillow at the end of the bed. Her bottom lip disappeared as she held the bottle loosely between both hands, her thumb absently tracing over the textured patten near its bottom. He was torn between chuckling and sighing himself.
She was so easy to read.
Or maybe, it was just that he knew well enough what she was thinking because he'd had the same.
Steve reached out and touched her arm. "Hey." She turned to look up at him and he tried to keep his voice even and reassuring. "I know it's the last thing you want to do, but...it's really what you need to do." Something flashed behind her eyes then, something he couldn't really put a finger on, but by the way her features tightened, he figured he'd said the wrong thing.
Her next sentence confirmed it.
"I do not need you to tell me what to do." Her voice was cold, colder than the condensation he could feel brushing his knuckle from where his hand hung at his side, his fingers bumping against the coke in her lap.
He gave into the urge to sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"Look, I'm not telling you that because I think you're child that's stayed up too late past her bedtime." Her eyes flashed again and he had to bite back the second exhalation building in his throat. It was like playing a roulette wheel, you just never knew what you were going to get. And he was getting tired of walking on eggshells.
He hadn't been this bad, had he?
Deciding not to answer that question, he sat down on the bed next to her, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs, bowing his head. God, he didn't want to talk to her about this, to anyone, about this...but he needed to. His lips almost quirked; talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
"Ellie...believe it or not, I know what you're going through, what your body's going through." He could almost feel her skepticism, and it made him falter. It wasn't so much that he was worried that she wouldn't believe him.
There was so much that she didn't know, couldn't know, and he'd been there. She would understand, better than anyone, what he'd experienced. He couldn't bullshit her. She would know, because she was sitting right there, living the same thing. It was almost like watching himself relive it, except it wasn't in his head, it was right here in front of him, and it was now. The doubts, the low-simmering fear, the acute sense of loss that barely dulled as the months rolled by...the more he thought about it, the closer to the surface it crept. Without even saying anything, just by existing, she was a constant reminder of the hell he thought he'd pretty well put behind him. And she was living it too. So then it became less about the fact that he understood her.
She would understand him.
And frankly, that scared the hell out of him.
"Do you remember what I told you up on the roof? About seeing the same thing you did when you opened your eyes?" His voice was gruff, more like a rough mutter than anything else. He cleared his throat again. "Well, I did because-"
A touch at his elbow made him inhale sharply, and he jerked his head up to meet her eyes. Her expression was unreadable, but there was an empathetic look in her gaze that made his throat tighten.
"We are the same...are we not, Steve Rogers?" she murmured softly.
He took it back. She already understood.
"Yeah. Yeah, Ellie, we are."