05 May 2012
1150 hours
Unknown Location

Hours later, they were sitting in a SHIELD on-call room. She just stared at him. The angry look had been lost long ago and now she just clutched her dog tags and the blanket they'd given her up to her chest. Her deep brown eyes, so full of emotion, looked out of place on her sad face. She was sitting on the couch and wouldn't let him get any closer, so he sat in a chair by the door.

He just studied her. He hadn't been able to get a good look at her in the Cadet Chapel, but he'd gotten a good sense of who she was in just those few moments of talking in God's house. She was a soldier, like him, with a strong belief in God and country. She had demons. Everyone has demons. And Lord, did she care for others, even those she'd only just met.

She didn't look like a soldier, though. She'd taken down her long, dirty blonde hair from its tight confines (regulation for women, hair couldn't touch the collar while in uniform but she'd pulled it down in frustration) and it hung in waves down around her waist. Familiar, piercing brown eyes stared him down in an intelligent way. She was pale and didn't wear makeup, which showed the large freckles all over her face.

She hadn't said anything since the operatives had come for him. He insisted on taking her with him, at least to stop her crying and to be able to explain things. So far, she hadn't asked a single question. She's in shock. "You can ask me anything. I've been authorized to tell you whatever you want to know." Not that he knew a lot in the first place.

She blinked and shook her head a few times. "Authorized?" she asked under her breath. This seemed to turn a switch in her. She turned her angry but intelligent eyes onto him in more than the sad, lifeless gaze she'd been giving him for an hour. "You had to be authorized to tell me somethin'? Where the hell am I?"

"Please calm down, Joan," he sighed as he flinched at her curse. She apparently did that when she was shocked and angry.

"Don't—don't you dare," she whispered, deadly serious. She stood up when he said her name. SHIELD had taken her prosthetic to get it repaired, so she stood on one leg, still looking strong even while balancing. The pant leg of her uniform hung limp on the right without the prosthetic to fill it out. "You...you're Captain America and I told my name to Steve. Steve, who needed a friend in a chapel. Captain America can call me Captain Phillips and that's about all."

Steve just clasped his hands together and couldn't look at her. "Well, then, I'm just Steve right now, ma'am. And you're confused and you want answers."

"You're the Steven Rodgers? Born in 1918, served in World War II with my grandfather?"

That was when it clicked. Steve could see Colonel Phillips in her cold, molten brown eyes. He could see the leadership there. He could see the strength and willpower the old man once had, packed into this young woman. Even the voice was similar—that slight southern drawl that got thicker the angrier she got. He felt a tear at his heart when those once-friendly eyes stared him down, burning for questions while somehow remaining cold to him.

It physically hurt to look at her. Last Steve knew, Colonel Phillips had been alive and well, sitting next to Penny in that control room. Everyone he knew and loved—gone.

He just nodded. Joan sat back down and didn't bother to cover up her leg. Steve found it beautiful—it was a sign of strength, of protecting one's country. He knew that many wounded soldiers found it a burden, an embarrassment, a weakness. But she could do anything anyone else could do.

"I miss him," she said softly, looking away. Her arms were crossed under her chest, which amplified her gorgeous breasts—he knew he shouldn't be looking, but he was a man and she'd since taken off her ACU jacket and was just wearing a tan t-shirt underneath, baring her arms and giving her more shape than the baggy jacket. He blushed and looked away, rubbing at the back of his head. "He was a good man. He died when I was ten. He spoke about you. A lot, actually. It was kind of embarrassin'. He'd tell me stories of this runt kid who wanted the world to be sunshine and rainbows and threw himself over a dummy grenade to save his fellow soldiers."

Steve looked up to her, then. She was smiling a little, her eyes distant as she remembered the man that he actually knew. That he'd spent time with, who'd given him orders, who'd worked with him on the destruction of so many Hydra bases that Steve had lost count. (Not actually—it was twelve.) Has it really been seventy years? It was only two weeks for him. "Sounds a lot like the woman who'd throw herself over a cadet's body to save her."

Joan Phillips shook her head and stared at him again. There was blood on her clothes but she hadn't wanted to change. She looked a little out of place in her uniform. A dame like her? She should be pampered and loved, not sent to the battlefield. "To try to save her, you mean." He had nothing to say to that. "What were you doin' in the chapel last night, huh? Why did those—those—"

"Aliens." He still had a hard time believing it.

"Aliens—attack West Point?"

Those questions were a little harder to answer. West Point was one of the most heavily-fortified military training centers anywhere near New York and the portal. The aliens had decided to attack the nearest stronghold—which explained their presence. A few had gotten out of Stark's perimeter and West Point and its students had gotten the brunt of the alien force. "Do the math. Military stronghold and a group of beings who wanted to take over the earth..."

It clicked in her brain. "They wanted to take out the soldiers and we were closest. Damn it...they were just kids." She put her head in her hands and didn't speak for a long time. He didn't think he'd be able to give her much more information or be able to get anything out of her. Steve sighed and stood up, getting ready to leave, when she said, "That doesn't explain why you were at the Cadet Chapel."

"Used to go there when I was a kid. My dad went to West Point before being deployed to the 107th. He'd take me there sometimes but was always upset because the Old Cadet Chapel had been taken down to build the new one. I only ever knew the new one and I needed...something, I guess. I was about to fight the battle of the century and all I could think to do was pray."

Silence for a long while. Then, "The old chapel's by the cemetery," she said softly, "or it was. Not sure if anythin's still there anymore, actually." Steve wanted to do nothing more than hold her. He didn't know this woman, though—she'd just prayed with him the night before. From what he'd seen, she didn't much care for coddling. She looked up to him, her face completely void of emotion—rather professional actually—and asked, "What is SHIELD?"

Steve racked his brain for the acronym. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, I think."

The woman's face was dry. "That's a mouthful."

"Still not sure if that was right, actually."

"Okay, and what does this mouthful do? What does it mean? I'd like to think that as a Public Affairs Officer I know all there is to know about government organizations."

"It's top-secret, I think."

"Oh, yeah?" She raised a thick, shapely eyebrow and looked a little sarcastic. "I didn't realize that when Captain America was unearthed that a top-secret organization would keep him hidden from the rest of the world. No offense, but you're not exactly a threat to the United States of America."

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be offended by that in all honesty, ma'am. I don't know much of anything. It's only been two weeks since I woke up. For me, it's only been two weeks since 1945."

Steve was used to pity in the eyes of people he passed. Joan's eyes weren't full of pity—rather, they were intrigued and surprised. "Two weeks?"

He nodded and leaned against the door frame, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Yeah. I've been trying to incorporate myself into your time but it's a little different than what I'm used to."

The woman who seemed more confused than him seemed to be wracking her brain. "'Isn't lovin' God and goin' to church kinda...old-fashioned?'" He remembered asking her that the night before in the Cadet Chapel. "God, you weren't kiddin'. The world has changed a lot, Rogers. Goin' to church has gone from lovin' God to making it more 'modern' and 'fun' so that people actually show up. People don't treat the stars and stripes like they used to, either."

"You treat them right. And you go to church to go to church," he said before he could stop himself. Her chocolate brown eyes had crinkles in the corners because she was smiling at him this time. This was the first time he'd seen her smile. Her teeth were white and straight against her pink, petal lips. "I mean..."

"No, you're right. My grandfather always told me to trust what was in my heart and respect people and objects with the pride that has been instilled in them. The flag is just an object—a large piece of polyester, in all honesty—but it's a symbol that's worth somethin', that means somethin' good. You—you're just a man who wants to serve his country and help people, but you're also a symbol. A symbol of somethin' great." A pink tint covered her cheeks then. She bit a chapped lip and smiled up at him.

Steve could see why she was a PAO. She was smart, eloquent, and knew what the heck she was talking about. Plus, she was Colonel Phillips' granddaughter—that had to count for something. That man could inspire a pill bug. "Well, I wouldn't say any of that."

"Don't be modest on me now, Rogers. My grandfather didn't just believe in you because of the serum. He believed in you because of who you were as a human bein'. He kept a picture of you as a little runt on his mantle until the day he died—because you were more than just the superhuman body you were given."

Steve could feel his face light on fire. She's seen me from before the serum? "Oh, yeah?"

Joan looked smug. "Literally every time I saw him, he had some kind of lesson involvin' you that I had to learn. I had to grow up to be just as good as you—because bein' the sixth kid with five older brothers, you have to learn how to defend yourself and grow up strong. Strength doesn't mean anythin' in all honesty. You can be strong and still hurt people. But he taught me that you couldn't be a bully—you have to stand up for yourself, for others, and for the little guy."

He blinked in shock. She was like a little female clone of the old man, but with a better temperament. He thought briefly back onto her grief-filled tirade and put that towards dehydration, hunger, and confusion from just waking up. He'd felt the same way two weeks ago when they'd thawed him out in the middle of New York City.

Her stomach growled and she placed a hand to it. "I'm starvin'. I haven't eaten for a good twenty-four hours probably. Not sure what time it is. Is there any way...?"

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten. He'd specifically asked to be put on her debriefing and he was supposed to make sure she was comfortable, fed, and treated well. That, and keep an eye on her. Apparently, she was a high-risk issue, being an officer in the military connected to so many news resources and outlets. She had connections that even SHIELD didn't have, which was saying something. "Yeah, of course! I was supposed to..." Steve just shook his head, his mind still reeling from the past few days, and asked, "What do you want?"

"A burger. A big one. With bacon. A lot of bacon."

Steve blinked at her a few times before laughing. He'd had shawarma the night before but that'd been the last thing he'd had, too. His metabolism went four times faster than the normal human being's. But that didn't mean that a burger didn't sound like the best thing in the world to him. "Yeah, that sounds good. Any suggestions?"

"Well, I need to know where we are before I can give a suggestion."

Steve wondered if he was supposed to tell her that. They'd retreated to the Hub. He wasn't actually sure where it was, but it was definitely classified. She'd passed out in the humvee that they'd taken survivors away in and woke up in the on-call room with Steve standing right outside the door. "I, ah..."

"Let me guess...that's top-secret, too? Or you don't know?"

A knock sounded at the door. Joan stood up and dropped the blanket, standing at attention rather well for only having one leg. Steve stood up and didn't have to say anything before the door opened to show Maria Hill standing there. "Rogers," she said with a nod to him before she looked at Joan. "Phillips. You're welcome to two phone calls to alert your family as to your safety." She tossed a black box to Joan who caught it easily. "Then, we need to ask you a few questions."

"I'm not answerin' anything until I get my burger. With lots of bacon. Bacon heals the heart," she said casually as she opened the telephone—which was confusing to Steve because didn't telephones need cords?—and lengthened some kind of antenna. "Also, where's my leg? I don't really like hoppin' everywhere. Some new clothes would be nice, too. Lastly, I'd really like some Diet Coke. I'm in withdrawal here."

"I'm not your personal manservant," Hill said with a glare. Her deadly eyes turned to Steve who actually took a step back from her piercing gaze. "Weren't you supposed to take care of her? You asked for this debrief."

Joan, who'd been dialing the telephone and now had it up to her ear, raised an eyebrow at Steve who couldn't help but blush. "I wasn't sure of what I could tell her. Also, not sure where food is. You didn't` exactly hand out a map of this place."

"She's high-risk for information, not a prisoner. She can know pretty much what you know." Which wasn't much, thanks to all the secrets they kept. I still need to talk to Fury about Hydra and the secrets that SHIELD is keeping from me.. "And there's a cafeteria right down the hall."

"Are there burgers?" Joan asked loudly before Hill slammed the door with another glare. "Sheesh. Just wanted a—Mom? Mom, I'm fine, please, calm down—"

Steve could hear a woman's frantic voice on the other line loud and clear. "Joan Margaret Phillips, where on God's green earth are you, girl?! I was worried sick! Your brothers have been frantic—where are you?!"

"I'm not sure, actually. I'm bein' debriefed by an organization called SHIELD. You know what that is, Mama? A top-secret organization that I don't even know about. I'm about to call Daddy to check and see if he knows what's up." There was silence on the other end of the line for a while. "Mama?"

"Be careful, Sweetheart. Don't go diggin' your nose in places it don't belong."

"What? You know what, it doesn't matter. I'll figure it out. Can you get word out to the boys? None of them were in New York so they should be fine. Mom."

"Joan, Sweetheart, I've gotta go. Kenton is calling."

"Ask him about SHIELD—! Dammit." Joan closed the cordless phone and bit the tip of the antenna a little. Her mind seemed to be moving at a mile a minute as she bent her leg a few times to stretch it out. Steve shuffled from foot to foot, a little uncomfortable about listening in on her conversation. Joan's eyes met his and she huffed a little before she sat down. "Sorry. I don't kiss my mother with that mouth, promise."

Steve knew it was old-fashioned to not use curse words in that day and age. He was a little flattered that Joan would try and shield him from that. "It's not my place to judge, ma'am."

"Please. It's Joan."

"...Joan." He was confused, seeing as how she'd yelled at him earlier about using her first name. But he didn't question it.

The woman cleared her throat. "I'm gonna call my dad, now. He might have some answers for me. If, I mean, that's okay with your top-secret organization."

Steve chuckled a little and stuck his hands in his pant pockets—he'd changed hours before into a pair of khaki pants and a button-up, the only clothes he felt comfortable wearing. He was a little surprised that she wasn't calling a significant other. "I'm not sure if you noticed when the agent came in, but I'm not really the know-all on SHIELD."

"Really?" she asked with a sarcastic smile as she opened the phone again and dialed a number. There was a long moment of a ringing sound before a woman picked up the phone. "This is Captain Joan Phillips calling for General Chester Phillips." She lost some of her southern twang when she was talking professionally over the phone. There was a lot of arguing on the other side of the line.

Steve felt a pang shoot through his heart. Colonel Phillips named his son after himself... He had the urge to meet this General—see if he was as good a man as the Colonel had once been. And he had to have been, to have raised a daughter like Joan. And a few sons, apparently.

"No, I don't care if he's in a meeting. You pull him out and tell him that I'm in a room with Captain America in a SHIELD safe house and see what the President says, then!" There was a long silence on the other end of the line before a gruff, southern voice asked, "What?" "Dad, a lot's been going on—"

"Good God, Joan, where the hell have you been?" Joan's face turned to flame as her father started describing 'the hell that the White House had been in the past two days.' "Aliens, gods from other worlds—you said you're there with Captain America?"

Joan's eyes met Steve's in an understanding glance. "Yeah. Steven Rogers is standin' right in front of me. We had a nice long talk about Granddaddy Chester." Her twang returned full force.

"I bet you did. Listen, if you're with him, then you're with SHIELD. They're a good organization. Your grandfather helped start it, actually—"

"Wait. You knew about SHIELD? You knew about Captain America being dug out of the ice and you didn't tell me?"

"No offense, Joan, but you're good at your job. One word from me and the whole world would know about SHIELD. And you'd never keep Captain America a secret. Knowing you and your C/O, you'd want you to make Rogers the face of the military. I guess it isn't much of a secret anymore so none of that really matters. I may need your help to start informing the public on the truth about everything that went down."

"What else don't I know? Am I adopted, too? That'd just put the icing on the cake. It wasn't your place to keep Captain America a secret. He's a national treasure meant to be shared with the world! Do you know how much morale he'd give the US? It's my duty to tell the world about this—"

"You aren't gonna be able to say a word, baby. At least a word that they don't want out in the open. SHIELD will make you sign a contract and you'll be under a lot of scrutiny from them for a while. Have they debriefed you yet?"

She didn't answer the last question and went on a little bit of a rant. Her southern drawl got even heavier when she got angry. "I wouldn't be surprised if I've been watched my whole life, actually..." There was silence on the other line. "Y'know, I was being sarcastic, Dad! Are you telling me that they've hounded me since I was born?!"

"Protection, baby. Protection for you and our family. We've got an impressive lineage that needs protecting." Joan looked so angry that she wasn't even talking. Steve took the time to stop listening to her father explaining things to look through the drawers in the room. There had to have been some kind of clothing in there. Anything was better than her blood-spattered uniform.

"Oh, yeah? Well wait until I get my hands on my computer. Once I get authorization, it'll be all over the news. This can't stay quiet, Dad, the world needs to know—"

"SHIELD protects the world from what it can't handle, and it can't handle half of what's happened recently. That's why I was talking with the President—"

"How do we explain aliens and gods to the world, then?! Tell me how that makes sense!"

Steve ended up finding a grey SHIELD t-shirt made of some silky material and a pair of black workout shorts. Both seemed a little big but he was sure that Joan would appreciate being out of her uniform for the time being. He laid it out for her while she argued with her father just as there was another knock on the door. Sparing a glance back at the furious woman, Steve opened the door to see an agent he'd never met before holding out the strange metal leg that Joan had been wearing earlier the day before.

It was metal all along the curved structure. It didn't look anything like a leg, but, when he bent it a little, it bounced. He could see how well it would work in comparison to some of the "life-like" fake legs he'd seen before. He laid the prosthetic down on the table and glanced up to Joan who had closed the phone and was sitting with her head in her hands.

"Here are some clothes. I'll head down to the cafeteria and see what I can do about that burger and Diet Coke." Whatever that is...

Joan stood up and shook her head. "No, I can't make you do that. You've gotta have something better to do that wait one me."

He could think of worse things than taking a beautiful woman to get some food. "Not really, no."

She grabbed the clothes that she'd been given and her leg—along with a few pieces that looked confusing to put on—and motioned her head to the bathroom. "Give me five minutes to clean up a little and I'll head to the cafeteria with you. Big guy like you's gotta be hungry, too."