Chapter Five

Emily bolted out of bed, startled out of her deep sleep by a loud pounding on the door. She quickly grabbed her glasses from the desk beside the bed and strode across the room, tripping on a box and slamming her shoulder into the wall with a loud "fuck!" slipping from her mouth. "What is it?" she asked, rubbing her shoulder and squinting at the bright light of the hallway.

"We need you to come up right now," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stated.

"Why?"

"Captain Rogers is conscious." Emily's eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

"Right, of course. I'll just get changed."

"Ma'am, Director Fury wants you up there right now."

"Well he's going to have to wait until I at least put on a bra," she snapped, closing the door quickly and flicking on the light. The small room was suddenly illuminated as she stumbled across it, reaching for the uniform Dr. Thompson had dropped off two days before and stripping off her night clothes. As quickly as possible (without causing runs), Emily pulled on the stockings and did a few lunges as she pulled on the discarded bra and buttoned the off-white shirt with shaking hands.

A quick glance in the mirror caused her to pause and let out a groan of frustration. Black eyeliner was smeared under her eyes and her hair looked like a rat's nest. For the past three days, she'd been camped out in her makeshift office, leaving only for the occasional meal break, shower, or meeting. Once, she'd gone to see Captain Rogers in the re-acclimation room, but had left after a few minutes. Seeing him unconscious, lying so still, was unnerving.

"Dr. Harthorn," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent called again, pounding on the door.

"Just a minute!" she snapped, quickly swiping away the eyeliner and running a brush through her hair. From her purse, she retrieved a piece of mint gum and began chewing it while pulling on the skirt and hunting for the damned tie. When she'd located it under her dirty shirt from the day before, Emily put on the heels, slamming her hand on the desk when she nearly fell. "Ready," she said, pulling open the door with the undone tie hanging around her neck.

"This way," the man ordered, taking the lead. Emily fell in behind him and tried to do the tie before giving up and focusing on tucking in her shirt. "In here." He threw open a door and stood aside for her to enter, snapping it shut behind her promptly.

"Holy shit," she breathed. Sitting on the medical bed looking rather frazzled was Captain Steve Rogers. His blue eyes snapped in her direction and then he frowned before turning his attention back to Director Fury.

"Dr. Harthron," Dr. Thompson said, walking over to her. "If you would join me over here."

"What happened to the re-acclimation room?" she asked, her gaze still trained on the Captain as the psychologist gently pushed her into an empty chair in the corner.

"Damned baseball game," he muttered, obviously angry about something. "Well, our grand plan to reintroduce him was ruined. Captain Rogers is fully aware of his situation."

"What? I thought…"

"Yes, well-"

"Dr. Thompson," Director Fury called. The British man gave a little sigh and strode over to where Fury, Rogers, Coulson, and the medical doctor were standing. Emily once again caught Captain Roger's attention and she gave him a weak smile. For something to do, her fingers once again attempted to do the tie again before, angrily, she pulled the material from around her neck and laid it across the arm of the chair. Instead, she turned to eaves dropping on the quiet conversation being had, ignoring the gentle throbbing in her shoulder and hand.

"-Astonishing that your muscles did not atrophy while you were unconscious," the doctor said. "You seem to be in perfect health."

"Now, I would like to set up a meeting for at least once a week to discuss your progress," Dr. Thompson said after. "I will help you process what has happened."

Emily surreptitiously studied the Captain. He looked…lost. There was no other word to describe it. His eyes, while flicking towards the person speaking, were unfocused. His broad shoulders were hunched, and he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world. Wide hands clutched his knees, as though the feel of the fabric would root him in reality. A sense of incredible sadness seemed to emanate from him.

Settling back into the chair, Emily rested her head in her hand and felt her eyes drooping. She'd been planning on at least a two-hour nap and had been woken up with less than 30 minutes. When was the last time she'd slept a full night? Was it last Thursday? No, she'd gone out to have drinks with the Department. Friday, her parents had been over late celebrating…so Wednesday. Eight days ago.

"Dr. Harthorn," Coulson said. "Dr. Harthorn?"

"Yes?" she said, snapping to attention. Coulson smiled slightly and held out a hand, which Emily grasped and stood up. Fury was watching her, his one visible eye narrowed. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"Have you slept at all?" Dr. Thompson asked when she joined the ring of men.

"Not much," she admitted, giving him a small smile. He shook his head and turned to Captain Rogers.

"Dr. Harthorn will be helping you with your day-to-day life," Fury stated. Captain Rogers nodded and looked at the five people standing around him, his eyes finally landing on Emily.

"Look," he said, his voice somewhat gruff from lack of use. "I appreciate the offer to help me, but I think I'd like to give this a shot by myself." Emily's brown eyes turned away from Captain Rogers' steady gaze and met the psychologist's. Dr. Thompson turned to Emily and gave her a somewhat smug look, motioning slightly with his hand.

"You sure? A lot's changed," Emily said after another prodding look from Thompson.

"Yes ma'am," Rogers nodded. Emily felt her heart ache as she met his gaze. While to the others he may have seemed calm, she had seen the defense before. It had been the same with her fiancé when he'd come back from Iraq. Her hand twitched as she fought reaching out to him.

"Captain, perhaps you should meet with Dr. Harthorn, at least in the beginning," Coulson offered. There was a silent stand-off until Fury ended it.

"Dr. Harthorn will be available for any questions that you might have. You should meet with Dr. Thompson, however."

"Very informal. We can even meet for drinks, if you prefer," Thompson added.

Emily's heart sank. Sure, she hadn't had high hopes about helping Rogers with the transition, but then again he was an excellent primary source. Talking to him would have given her answers to questions she hadn't even thought of! And now, now there wasn't even the promise of that. The captain nodded.

"I need the room," Fury stated. Emily looked at Coulson, who nodded and walked to the door, motioning for the three doctors to exit.

"Coffee, Dr. Harthorn?" Thompson asked.

"I don't think that's working for me anymore," she answered as they walked into the hallway. As they exited, Emily turned and looked at Captain Rogers again, still in disbelief that he was alive. Coulson nodded to Fury, gave a small smile to Rogers, and closed the door behind him.

"What you saw outside," Fury said, crossing his arms, "is just a taste of what's to come. It's a strange world out there, Cap."

"With all due respect, Sir, I've seen strange."

"I've read the files," Fury smirked. "Hydra was advanced, but this is different. If," he said, recognizing the slightly frustrated look on the Captain's face, "you insist on doing this alone, you will have support. Dr. Harthorn, though…young," he finally said, his tone not implying confidence, "would be a valuable tool for you."

"I'll keep her in mind," Rogers said.

"There's a lot we need to talk about, but there's time for that. We've set up a room for you. Your personal belongings were stored off site but they're being shipping in as we speak. If you need anything, find Agent Coulson, Dr. Thompson, or myself."

"Thank you," he said, pushing himself off of the table. Fury held out his hand, and Rogers shook it.

"Welcome to the future."

OOO

"Are you sure I'm not hallucinating?" Emily asked as she settled in the cafeteria chair. "Because I'm pretty sure I just imagined Captain Roger's being alive."

"You need sleep, girl," Thompson stated. He shook his head as he examined her, noting the deep bruises under her eyes.

"I'm sure your motor skills are diminished," Dr. Kingston added before taking a sip of his coffee. The medical doctor had finally introduced himself.

"Maybe," she said coyly, wrapping her throbbing hand around the cold energy drink in front of her.

"I can give you something to help you sleep if you need it," Kingston offered.

"I'm in the zombie stage of sleep depravation right now. All I need is someplace to lay down, and a long stretch of uninterrupted time," Emily smirked. "I have a feeling that I might get that, since the Captain doesn't seem to want my help."

"He'll come 'round," Thompson assured her before reaching across the table and taking the drink from her hand. He read the name and frowned.

"Monster? 'Helps fight fatigue, improves mental performance and focus, motivates you to work, I mean play, harder, so good you feel pretty damn good'? Dear god, that sounds awful."

"They're horrible for you," Kingston agreed.

"It's liquid Sweet Tarts," Emily stated, reaching for the can. Thompson leaned back in his chair and placed it in the trashcan. "Hey!"

"Sleep," he ordered. "You need your full mental facilities. And if you continue to push your body like this, you will be of absolutely not use to us."

"I'm fine, Dad," she pouted. Sure, she knew that she needed sleep, but now that she'd actually seen Captain Rogers awake, Emily felt the need to power through the rest of the information in those boxes.

"Young lady," Dr. Kingston leaned forward, folding his hands on the table and furrowing his white eyebrows, "if you do not return to your room and sleep, I will be forced to hospitalize you for exhaustion. I can already tell that you've not been eating," Emily wrapped her arms around her somewhat shrunken stomach, "and you haven't been taking care of yourself. As Chief Medical Officer, I'm ordering you to sleep. And eat something."

"God," Emily muttered. "Fine. I'll sleep. Goodnight…day…whatever." She stood up quickly and pushed the chair in before turning and exiting the room. The dramatic effect was lessened somewhat when her ankle rolled slightly, causing her to stumble. Blushing furiously, she continued to walk out, pausing to get her bearings, and then turning right.

"These kids," Kingston shook his head, "they all think they're invincible."

OOO

"I'm twenty-seven," Emily said to no one. "And they're treating me like I'm a kid." She had to stop again and figure out where she was. Groaning in frustration, she stomped her foot and leaned against the wall, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "It's right from the cafeteria, immediate left, three corridors up and left…"

Her hands dropped when she heard footsteps coming from behind her. As embarrassing as it would be, she needed help. "Excuse me," she called, looking down the hall to the right. The footsteps paused and Emily walked towards the person. "Could you-" she turned the corner. No one was there. "Alright, maybe you are hallucinating." Shaking her head, Emily walked back to where she had been and looked around.

"Dr. Harthorn?" Emily shrieked and jumped.

"Oh my god, you scared me," she said, pressing a hand to her racing heart. Coulson smiled. "Were you just…" Her eyes darted to the blonde man beside him.

"Dr. Harthorn," Rogers said.

"Hi," she squeaked. Em watched him for a moment before realizing she was staring.

"You were saying something?" Coulson prodded.

"What? Oh, nothing," Emily shook her head and gave him an embarrassed smile. "But I'm kind of lost."

"Office or room?" Coulson asked.

"Room," Emily's eyes shot to the silent Captain. "I've been threatened with forced hospitalization if I don't sleep." Rogers frowned and Coulson shook his head before motioning for her to precede him.

"Kingston is serious." The three walked in silence for a while, with Emily falling behind the two men.

"What are you a doctor of, Dr. Harthorn?" Captain Rogers asked.

"History," she replied, looking up from the floor. "World War II, specifically."

"Dr. Harthorn," Coulson said, stopping and motioning to a door. "This is you. Oh, and you left this." He pulled the discarded tie from his pocket.

"Thanks," she smirked, opening the door and tossing it into the room. "So I'll see you around, I guess."

"Doctor," Rogers nodded.

"Emily," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand. He smiled slightly and shook hers, his hand engulfing hers. The emotion didn't reach his eyes.

"Steve." Coulson's eyes darted between the two.

"Get some sleep, Doctor," he ordered. Emily gave him a mock salute.

"Yes, Agent Coulson. Thanks for the help," she said and stepped into her room, closing the door quietly. Emily took a deep breath, flicked on the light, and kicked off her shoes.

"OH MY GOD!" she mouthed, knees nearly giving out. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" She spun in a circle, hands covering her eyes. And tripped over her open suitcase. Sprawled across the floor, Emily shook her head. "Oh. My. God. I need to sleep."

OOO

"This is it," Coulson said, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He pushed it open, turned on the light, and stepped back. Steve stepped in and looked around. The furniture was minimum: a twin bed, a dresser, a desk, bedside table, and…

"What's that?" Steve asked, pointing to the slim box on top of the dresser.

"A television," Coulson said, walking over and picking up the remote next to it.

"Really?" Steve said. "I saw one at the World Fair in '39, but it was nothing like this." Coulson looked at the younger (or was he older) man and smiled.

"Technology's gotten slimmer and smaller. Except televisions. The bigger the screen the better. Want me to show you how to work it?"

Author's Note: You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you? So I hope you like how I wrote this. I've been agonizing over whether or not this fits with the story. Also, while I have gotten to the point of complete clumsiness when running on only a few hours of sleep, I haven't gotten to the point I've had Em get to. That being said, I have done the shoulder slam, desk hit while tripping over things in my room when running out the door to work (late).

So let me know what you think? And THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews and alerts =] It makes me so happy to open up my e-mail and see them all.