Another chapter, and hopefully a few more in the works with some semblance of an update schedule. Things get properly interesting soon so the story should advance at a quicker pace as of now.

Thank you to TortoisetheStoryteller for reviewing and to all those who added this story to their alerts or favourites.

Just out of interest, would people be interested in more history lesson scenes between Cora and Steve, because I was worried that everyone would be bored of them and so haven't included any this chapter, but I could at a later date/ add in some one shots of museums if people were interested?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters aside from my own OC. The rights of the other characters belong to Marvel and its affiliates.

Enjoy!

They hadn't made it too Brooklyn. While Steve would not have struggled with the distance, thanks to too long being pent up in offices and underground, he knew Coraline would have faltered long before getting close. Part of him was glad for that. While the spur of the moment idea had been a good one, every step closer to his old stomping ground was heavier underfoot. He wasn't sure he was ready to see those streets again. The New York he had burst into just a week or so ago had changed so much that nothing was familiar, and so nothing aside from his own memories could cause the sick feeling in his stomach that reminded him he was out of his time. Brooklyn, he had been informed from the tour guide and map he had brought on Coraline's behalf, was relatively unchanged since he had last walked its streets, and so he could be sure of the sick feeling following him around if he showed her the haunts of his youth.

Coraline either hadn't noticed or hadn't minded. She had been content to wander around the city, pointing out things from the guidebook and pretending at least to herself that she was just another tourist exploring the streets. That illusion was shattered however by their comfortable silence being interrupted by the Captain's phone going off in his pocket, causing them both to jump in the process.

He had sworn under his breath and then looked slightly abashed as he saw her smile at it. His expression turned from slightly embarrassed to boredom, and then very quickly to a mixture of anger and agitation.

As he ended the call, Coraline folded up the guidebook and looked at him concernedly.

"I have a mandatory psych eval in ten minutes," he offered as an explanation.

"Oh, did they tell you about it before?"

Steve just gave her a look.

"No," she sighed again cursing all that was S.H.I.E.L.D, "Of course they didn't."

"I'm sorry to be leaving you stranded here Miss Quinn," The Captain appeared flustered but she waved him off.

"I'll be fine, do you know your way back to the Triquetra or do you need the map," said map was waved noncommittedly.

"I should be alright. I really am sorry, I would have walked you back but there was no compromise on timing and I'm on a short enough leash as is is…"

Steve trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. Coraline's touch on his arm bought him out of his agitated thoughts.

"Don't worry about it, it's only a couple of blocks and besides, I've taken up enough of your time today. Go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve lingered for a few seconds before another beep from his pocket had him strolling briskly down the street and back towards the S.H.I.E.L.D base. Coraline watched him go, still clutching the guide book and with the sudden realisation that she had no money and no feasible way of getting back into the Triquetra.

Well crap.

aAa

She had made it back into the S.H.I.E.L.D base through the simple method of walking briskly, avoiding the main hub of agents gathered at the reception, and then accidently bumping into a lab coated physiotherapist who had been looking for her anyway.

Fast forward two hours of painful prodding and more signed forms signalling her consent to have experimental but 'definitely proven to work without known side effects for all field agents who had had it' drugs injected around her shoulder and also generously lathered on top, and Cora was flexing her fingers of her now slingless arm as she walked back towards her bunk.

Whatever she had signed too was working, however dubious the colour had been. Nothing should be that green, but equally the pain in her shoulder was almost gone and apart from some light exercises and appointments too far in the future for the historian to want to think about, she had been cleared to use her arm again. All in all, considering that only that morning she had been staggering down a corridor running on half sleep, it wasn't too bad of a day.

Obviously walking around New York with the Captain was another highlight.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He was polite and friendly and down to earth at moments, but enclosed and quiet and almost gruff at others. Not that Coraline could claim surprise about this. She didn't need to be a psychologist to know about shell shock, PTSD and a myriad of other quirks and qualms that came with rehabilitation from war. She'd skipped the module on it, a second year one analysing diaries of soldiers who'd come back from the Front, but her friend's had been filling her in on it of an evening, while she'd explained the module she'd skipped it for right back. Granted the history of Stark Industries weapons manufacture hadn't been as interesting for them, but it did mean that Cora could know a little of what to expect from the Captain.

And it wasn't like she was exactly a stranger to PTSD either.

Either way though, knowing or not knowing, it didn't make it any easy to judge what he thought of her. That being said, she had seen a glimmer of normality, of a man letting his guard down when they'd walked and talked about nothing in particular, and it was that smidgen of trust or friendship or goodness knows what that had her sneaking back past the rabble at reception and following her little tour guide back in Manhattan's depths.

aAa

"Morning!"

Steve was greeted by Coraline opening the door before he'd even set his hand on the doorknob. He crooked an eyebrow at the historian in front of him, who smiled in return before resettling a bag on a shoulder he noted was absent of the black sling he'd grown used to seeing.

"Morning," he replied cautiously.

The woman in front of him now was nothing like the Coraline he had seen any of the mornings previously. Her eyes were bright with mirth and a hint of the trouble she'd glowed with when explaining about the bunker. Her clothes were relaxed – a t shirt and jeans compared to the white shirts and presumably standard issue trousers she'd worn before. And she was smiling, which was a change indeed.

"How do you feel about the Natural History Museum?" She grabbed his hand as she all but dragged him out the door.

aAa

Coraline had done some negotiating. Actually she had done a lot of negotiating resulting in money and clothes and an all access pass to any museum in Manhattan.

At first Steve had been apathetic about trudging in and out of galleries about things that outdated even him. But the historian's enthusiasm was nothing if not infectious and so as the days went on he began to look forward to Coraline brandishing tickets to whatever museums were on the day's agenda, and paid closer attention to her often sarcastic commentaries about the subjects of the exhibits they saw.

"Divorces became so easy under Lenin's social policy that you could send someone a postcard saying you were breaking up and that was it. My aunt would have been a strong advocate for that policy if only it wasn't in the USSR," when walking through a Russian History exhibit about social change.

"Pretty much all America and Russia were doing during the Cuban Missile Crisis was pretending their crappy marbles were amazing while secretly hiding the good ones because they didn't actually want to trade," as she tries to explain the Cold War over sandwiches in the museum's café.

"We don't have to do this exhibit today," said softly as she guides him past an aeronautical display of WW2 jets.

They'd wasted five days like this. The exhibits had been varied, and in the case of the Museum of Modern Art, down right bizarre, but by the Friday of Week 3 of the America Chronicles as both Steve and Cora had dubbed them over coffee in a quiet corner of the Children's Museum of Manhattan, the pair had settled into the most normal routine S.H.I.E.L.D saw fit to allow.

And slowly but surely the awkward pauses and concerned looks from both parties turned to barely muffled laughs in art galleries over strange artwork pieces, in jokes littering what had been small talk and the concerned looks turning upwards into the beginning of affection.

It was odd, Coraline mused as she walked towards the next museum on the day's hit list with Steve chivalrously slowing to keep pace with her, that this friendship kindled out of necessity had gone beyond the realms of polite laughter and hidden smiles. She had been ready to leave America and all that S.H.I.E.L.D added to it as soon as she was able to, but now, just perhaps, she might consider staying, if the Captain making comments on the window displays they were passing happened to be there too.

aAa

How odd, an agent cloaked in shadows trailing the pair from a distance mused as he watched, that the historian and the Captain had developed an attachment after only a few weeks of contact. How inconvenient, he sighed as he reported back to his superior while watching the historian elbow the soldier for making a bad pun, that this attachment would stand in the way of what was to happen next.

Not overly confident about this chapter but more interesting stuff is coming next, as the cliff hanger alludes to.

As always, please do tell me what you think of this. All opinions, good or bad, very much appreciated!