A Different Kind of Deceit

Mornings were never easy for Charlie. They were routine, but they were never easy.

At five, and five on the dot, she would wake up. Not because her alarm went off, but because something in her head hated her and wanted her up three hours before she had to go into work. And no matter hard she would try to go back to sleep, it would be futile. She was up for good. She would drag herself out of bed, literally, using the end table by her side. She would get up and shuffle into the bathroom where she would have a small shock at her ragged appearance in the mirror. Every morning she looked liked she was pushed into a tornado, regardless of how lifeless she was when she slept. Forcing her hair to cooperate by soaking her head in a shower, she would let it dry itself as she made herself look appropriate.

She would have a glass of orange juice and a peach and by the time she was done, she would have an hour and a half left before she had to leave. So she would take apart her gun, clean it, reassemble it, reload it, and then stretch. And she would stretch until thirty minutes before she had to leave.

The thirty minutes that followed her morning routine were where the chaos started.

Everything she needed would manage to disappear. She'd have to hunt down her car keys, which were always in one of three spots but never seen until all three spots had been overturned six times each. Then the shoes she wanted to wear would go missing and she'd have crawl into her closet, hunting them down, and maybe kill a spider or two who decided to make their home over a SHIELD agent's sneaker. Her wallet would wind up in the freezer, every morning, and yet every morning, she would look everywhere else before checking the damn freezer. How it always turned up there, she did not want to know. After searching, and finding, all of her needed items, she would leave in a huff and have to narrowly avoid Miss Patsy living next to her who would stand outside her door watching, and trying to talk to, everyone who left for work. And unluckily for Charlie, having to go in the opposite direction as usual in order to pick up Steve Rogers meant having to walk past Miss Patsy.

So, when Charlie had finally reached Steve's apartment, her outfit was a tad on the disheveled side, having ran up the stairs instead of waiting at the elevator. The elevator was Miss Patsy's accomplice. Everyone in the complex said so.

Steve opened the door fairly quick after Charlie had knocked. The look on his face told her he had gotten little sleep, and it was true. He came to hate his apartment room overnight. It was harsh and unforgivable. Nothing in it reminded him of what he knew, what he was used to. It was quiet, save for the movements of his new neighbors, and he was unsure of how to work most of the appliances in the kitchen, let alone the gadgets placed throughout the house. His apartment was not a comfort zone.

Charlie was becoming a comfort zone. She was someone to talk with and as long as there were more things for him to notice about her, it kept his mind from straying. She didn't understand what he was going through, but she knew she never would. He needed that normalcy.

He eyed her appearance in front of him, sleeves of a forest green hoodie shoved to her elbows, a red shirt ruffled and slightly raised from running, and her blue jeans with worn edges at the bottom. So this was her casual. "Morning," She mumbled, nodding her head in greeting as her panting came to a slow end. He returned her nod with his own as she stepped to the side. "Ready to leave?"

. . .

Finding a department store had been a challenge in its own right. Unsure of what Steve wanted and needed, Charlie wanted to stick with the simplest option, being the mall. It was large and it had a variety of stores and there was bound to be something Steve would find he wanted. But the mall was also one of the most terrifying places.

Charlie liked shopping. She wouldn't deny it. It was relaxing to forget about work and assignments and Fury and Clark's next conspiracy theory for an hour, and focus solely on the trivial aspects of her life like clothing. She never went out of her way to buy a lot, but she had fun with herself. Even she did not like the mall. It was crowded, regardless of the time of day, and many of the girls wandering the stores were as shameless as the vendors begging them to view their products. Charlie liked quiet. She liked peace. She didn't like fashionable World War III.

So Charlie had come up with a new plan.

Pulling up to Macy's, Charlie could see the recognition dawning on Steve's features and she knew her decision had been a good one. The two climbed out of her car and looked up at the building in front of them. It was large, with the Macy's sign in bold, obvious letters above the front doors. "Macy's is still around?" Steve remarked in pleasant surprise as Charlie reached his side.

She nodded, a small grin tugging at her lips. "One of the few that survived the past several decades."

They walked inside (Steve insisting she go in first, again) to see the layout of a large department store. Signs were hanging from the ceiling directing customers to areas of the building, each section a different category of product. A woman at the counter nodded to them in greeting and the two returned it as they walked along the smooth tiling floors toward the back of the store.

The men's section of the store had a wide variety of clothing. Shirts of several colors and patterns hung from racks, as well as a good sized selection of jeans and pants. Charlie slowed in her steps, falling in line behind Steve to let him take lead. His eyes scanned over the area, fingers flipping through shirts and pants. Once Charlie had caught sight of the sizes Steve had been picking out, as well as the style of clothing, she began her own search for articles to hand him.

Examining a plaid shirt before pulling it off the rack, Steve glanced toward Charlie. She was flipping through shirts, content with the task she'd given herself. He watched her for a moment, thinking over what to say to her. Earlier in the day, he'd made up his mind to ask her about SHIELD. He never heard of the organization before he 'woke', and little information had been provided so far.

Steve walked toward Charlie with a small number of shirts and pants in his hands. Reaching her, he stopped and looked to the clothing she was shifting through. After a moment, he leaned in and mumbled in her ear, "I want to know more about SHIELD."

The woman gave a small jump at the proximity of his voice. She looked over her shoulder, glancing up at the Super Soldier standing behind her. As she flipped through a few polo shirts, she nodded. "Okay, erm, where should I start with that?" She asked him with uncertainty.

Resting an elbow on the top of the clothing rack in front of her, Steve scanned over their surroundings. No one was there, save for another man at the end of the section. "How about why they were looking for me?" He questioned, turning back to face her.

Charlie's eyes drifted above the clothes as she stared mid-air, thinking over her answer. With a small shrug, she replied, "Well, Howard Stark started looking for you after… You know. Two decades later, he founded SHIELD, and from there, SHIELD started searching." Charlie trailed off for a moment and sighed, looking around with the same suspicion as Steve. "Director Fury doesn't tell us a lot of things. I can only assume Howard Stark searched because you were his friend. I believe SHIELD's motives are more to do with the Super Soldier serum."

Steve watched as a woman walked by, waiting for her to pass. Brows furrowing, he looked to her with a new thought crossing his mind. "You said SHIELD works with super humans. Are there more people like me?" A flicker of curiosity and hesitance passed through his eyes – how many Super Soldiers were walking around as he spoke?

Pulling a shirt off the rack, she held it up toward Steve's form. He blinked a few times, processing her movements, before lowering his arms and standing straight. Charlie nodded her head in faint approval before glancing up toward him. "Not like you, exactly. More like people with certain abilities outside of the norm, or people whose bodies reacted to accidents in a… Surreal fashion," She mumbled her last words, lips tugging downward.

She ignored his look of interest and turned, walking to another clothing rack. Steve was hot on her heels, following after her quickly. "What do you mean?"

With another sigh, she turned and looked back up at him. "For instance, there's Doctor Bruce Banner. A few years ago, he was working on gamma radiation. There was an accident and… He transformed. Tore up the facility. He changes when he loses control of his anger," She explained to him, trying to keep it brief. She wasn't so sure Banner was a subject SHIELD would like her explaining to Rogers, who looked disturbed by the details she'd already given him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned. He was well aware Charlie was leaving out certain details, and it unnerved him. "And SHIELD watches him?" He asked her, raising a brow.

She nodded, returning his serious expression with her own. "We do our best to," She replied. Before he could speak again, she tossed a pair of pants into his abdomen. He grabbed at it on instinct, looking down to examine the clothing. When he looked back toward her, she jerked her head into the direction of the changing rooms.

Steve walked into one of the stalls inside the hall of dressing rooms and Charlie sat onto one of the cushioned seats against the wall, her view blocked by the stall door. Crossing a leg onto a knee, she leaned back and made herself comfortable. Steve, changing inside the stall, paused before he slipped a shirt over his head. He glanced to the door as though he could see through it to the woman waiting for him. "Howard," He began loudly, trailing off with a deep frown, "Is he…"

Charlie had looked up from her lap toward the stall door when she heard his voice. Pressing the back of her head against the wall, she answered, "He died, 1987."

It shouldn't have surprised him. It had been seven decades since he last saw Howard Stark, but Steve still felt remorse. Just how much more did he miss while he was gone? Slipping his arms into the sleeves of another shirt, he debated over the next question. Was it something he really wanted to know? "Did he have family?"

He wasn't sure Charlie had heard him, until her voice echoed in the dressing rooms. "A wife, and a son. His son took over Stark Industries. You'll probably be seeing a lot of him soon. Always all over the news. His wife's passed." He nodded, though she couldn't see it in the stall, and tugged the shirt off his torso. Charlie sat, not speaking afterward, listening to the faint ruffling of Steve's movements. She looked around her, taking in the clean walls and the security camera in the corner. With a small sigh, she glanced back to the stall Steve was in. "If there's anybody else you want to know about, feel free to ask."

There was more movement in the stall before Steve flipped the latch of the door. It began to sway open, allowing Charlie to see hesitant eyes. "If I remember correctly, I've already asked about her," He muttered in response, grabbing hold of the clothes he tried on.

Charlie hated the expression on Steve's face. It made her feel as helpless as he looked. He was holding himself together better than she thought she ever could in his shoes, but his weaknesses still showed through the cracks. Staring him in the eyes, Charlie hoped she appeared to be as sincere as she was. "I'm… I'm doing my best to find her, Rogers," She told him.

Steve looked away, tilting his head in a slight nod. "I appreciate it." And he did. He needed to know what happened to Peggy Carter, how she lived the rest of her life. He may not have been back long, but he could already tell Charlie would be more a help to him than Fury would be. As he left the stall, Charlie stood and they left the dressing rooms, walking down the smooth isle between clothes sections. Faint pop music played in the background, a song neither Steve nor Charlie recognized. For Charlie, it was just low enough to ignore.

A gentleman about Charlie's height with broader shoulders walked past the two of them, nodding his black haired head to them in greeting. Charlie returned the nod with one of her own, not seeing Steve at her side do the same. Her hand brushed against her hip as he passed them, her back going straighter as she felt the grip of her gun through her hoodie's cloth. She kept her hand there as they walked, not daring to glance back until they were further down the isle.

When she did look back, she spotted the man meeting with a female customer, who hugged him with a content, familiar smile on her features. Charlie let out a small sigh of relief and a bit of embarrassment at herself. She wasn't in Marrakesh anymore, or watching over Selvig. She was shopping, a task that would have been deemed normal for anyone else. On the other hand, she was shopping with a legend who was supposed to be dead. Even if he had only been in the country for four days, awake for only two of those, SHIELD couldn't assume no one else knew of his 'return.'

This brought Charlie into another thought process – was she even allowed to be taking Steve out in public? It wasn't a topic that came up when Fury was speaking with her the day before and she had automatically thought it was okay, considering he told her Steve was in her charge. He needed clothes. He couldn't live with nothing but the khakis, combat boots, and SSR shirt SHIELD put him in, and she wasn't about to send agents out for clothes shopping. It was humiliating enough for her to do it.

She nodded to herself, choosing to believe the excuse she came up with, before glancing toward the man she was with. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed he wasn't at her side any longer. Turning back, she found Steve standing still, his attention focused in on something else. Charlie walked back toward him and, once at his side, followed his eyesight. Her attention was led to what looked similar to a bomber jacket. It was made of dark brown leather that looked clean and of high quality, with a single strap buttoned across each shoulder and a pocket over the left breast.

Charlie's eyes shifted from the jacket to Steve, whose mind seemed to drift away to another place as he stared at the clothing item. "You like it?" She asked him, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

Steve gave a subtle nod of his head that she almost would have missed if not watching him as closely as she was. "I had something like it once," He muttered under his breath. It was an answer he didn't mind if she hadn't heard. It linked to memories he didn't want to relive, but all the same, he clung on to them.

Motioning to the jacket with a shrug of her shoulders, she replied, "Then get it."

The words seemed to bring him out of his state of mind, as he turned to look down at Charlie with a start. He glanced down to the clothes in his hands. It wasn't as much as he was sure Charlie had accumulated in her closet over the years, but the tennis shoes, and the several pairs of jeans and shirts to last him two weeks were more than he expected anyone to offer him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know who the offer came from. It had bugged him all morning. He watched her for a moment, debating over it before asking her, "Whose money are you spending on this?"

Charlie appeared not to be phased as she said, "Mine. So technically it's SHIELD's." The corners of her lips twitched upward with a playful grin, but Steve wasn't having it.

With the shake of his head, he lifted his hands to emphasize the folded shirts laying in them. "You shouldn't be buying my clothes," He told her.

Brows furrowing, Charlie asked, "Is that another forties thing?"

At first, Steve was surprised she sounded as bold as she did bringing up his time. Upon looking at her closer, he began to see a soft touch in her eyes. Was she not trying to insult or poke fun at him, but instead make a point over money? "It's about respect," He answered with a firm tone, trying to show her he was putting his foot down on the matter.

Charlie rolled her eyes and Steve could have sworn he saw her shoulders easing, as though she was becoming more relaxed. "So it's a man thing," She scoffed out, ignoring the chuckle that came from a woman as she passed by the two, obviously overhearing the debate. Charlie did, however, lean forward to mumble to Steve, "SHIELD's going to be reimbursing me later, so stop worrying about it. You'll need a jacket. Get it."

Steve continued to look at her before shaking his head one more time and walking past her. He could hear her huffing in frustration before turning to follow him, and he felt the smile pull at his lips at his victory. He marched along the isle and it didn't take long to see the check-out counters near the doors. Feeling a hand push into the right side of his chest, he hesitated in his walk and looked down. Charlie stared up at him from his side, her brows raised in a dull expectancy. His own brows furrowed, until he noticed her wiggling her fingers. A plastic card shifted in between them, silver and shining under the fluorescent lighting.

He took hold of the card and she let go of it, crossing her arms over her chest. "If they ask you to sign, just put down Charlene Strauss," She informed him with a tone more gentle than what he'd heard from her before.

Gazing down at the card, which was engraved with Charlene L Strauss underneath a series of numbers, Steve turned his eyes back toward Charlie. He tried to understand what she was doing by giving him her card, when it clicked far more sudden than he thought it would. She was letting him pay for his own purchase. Granted, it was still her money and her card, but he would not be standing at a counter with a woman paying for him. He almost felt embarrassed by the fact she knew this had crossed his mind, realizing how insulting it could have sounded, but the look on Charlie's face told him she didn't mind. Maybe she even understood.

He nodded, looking at her in a newer light, before finishing his walk to the registers. He piled his clothes onto the nearest empty counter top and the woman behind the register almost dropped her jaw. He was buying an entire wardrobe, after all. Her eyes darted up to Steve, lingering on the SSR shirt he was wearing, before smiling across the counter at him and mumbling a small hello. He smiled at her in greeting as she began to scan the clothes in front of her.

He watched as the number on the register's screen went higher and higher, the ball in the pit of his stomach growing with it. Then and there, he decided he would pay Charlie back, be it with helping in chores or earning some money however SHIELD would let him. This made him hesitate. It was obvious enough SHIELD wanted to keep tabs on him, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. Did they need him for something? He hoped he was paid for whatever it was – not to be vain, but to be able to afford his own things. Financial stability. Things weren't cheap. In fact, they were incredibly more expensive than he remembered. His shoes alone were forty dollars!

"Scan your card, please," The woman spoke as she bagged his items, causing Steve to blink his way back to reality once more by the sound of someone speaking to him.

Shaking his head at himself, he looked down at the instrument in front of him. It was squared off, with a small screen in the middle and a slit running across the top of it. A part of him panicked, until he saw the informational drawing across the plastic surface. He flipped the card around in his hands, holding it up near what he assumed was a scanner of sorts to compare the images. Glancing up, he gave an embarrassed smile when he saw the woman watching him with an odd expression. "My, erm… Wife's," He commented, shaking the card for a bit of emphasis.

The employee nodded her head but the look on her face told him she was simply choosing not to question his confusion. Flipping the card over once more to match the image over the slit, Steve dragged the card through it. Seconds later, the screen changed to a blank line, with Name written over it. Just as Charlie had instructed him, he wrote in her name and hit the okay button he noticed in the corner. The woman pressed a few buttons on her register before a receipt was printed out. She tore it out of the machine, handing one to Steve as she smiled, "Have a nice day, Sir."

Steve nodded to her, grabbing the two large shopping bags together in one hand. Turning, he headed to the doors where he saw Charlie already waiting for him, her hands clasped together behind her back as she was leaned against the wall. Once he reached her, she looked up toward him as he handed her card back to her. She took it, saying as she did so, "Hopefully SHIELD will get you your own card soon." He nodded, hoping just as she much as she was that he would get his own.

The two walked out of the store, Steve holding the door open for another woman and Charlie on the way out. Outside the store, they headed across the parking lot toward Charlie's sedan. His eyes were glued to the car as they approached it, when something rough smacked him in the face. He stopped walking to catch the plastic shopping bag, eying it in confusion. He looked up, glancing across the top of the car to Charlie, who was walking to the driver's door as though she hadn't just thrown a bag in his face. He turned his head back down and opened the bag, peering inside it. With a surprise, Steve pulled out a brown leather jacket.

As Charlie climbed into the car, slamming the door closed behind her, it all started to fit together in Steve's mind. She didn't give him her card so he could feel somewhat independent. That may have been part of the reason or simply a bonus, but it wasn't the sole reason for it. No, Charlie had given him her card just to occupy him with the card slot at the register. Thinking it over, Steve realized that the amount of time it took to purchase all of his clothes and figure out how to work her card was more than enough time for her to slip to the back of the store, grab the jacket, and purchase it without him even suspecting anything. She wasn't at his side at the register, and that had nothing to do with giving him some space.

He dropped the jacket back into the bag, tossing all of his bags into the back seat of the car before getting in as well. In the passenger's seat, Steve looked over at Charlie with a blank look across his face. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be annoyed or amused; frustrated or flattered. She ignored him as she cranked the car and adjusted her rear view mirror. Turning her torso and laying a hand on the back of Steve's seat so she could back out of the parking space, Charlie made eye contact with the man.

"You shouldn't have done that," He said, watching as her eyes moved away from him to the back window of the car.

Her answer was quick and simple. "If you're not going to get what you need to prepare for the weather, I am," She told him as she backed the car out of the space.

Steve looked to his lap where his hands were interlinked together. No longer could he hold it. A smile pulled at his lips again and he let himself go with it, his chest vibrating as he chuckled. With a small shake of his head, he glanced out the window, mumbling, "You're a stubborn woman, Ma'am."

Putting the car in drive, Charlie turned the wheel around as she glanced to Steve from the side of her eye, smirking all the while. "Job requirement, Rogers."


As of now, this chapter is the last complete chapter I have written. The next is almost finished, but I wanted to give a heads up that I may not be updating as frequently after today. Thank you guys for reading (and special thanks to those who've reviewed!) I really appreciate it.