Ch. 14

The second Steve walked into his apartment, he went straight over to his laptop and fired it up. He logged onto his email and grinned when he found a slew of messages waiting for him from Stacy. There was one with the subject heading "First Date" and as he clicked on it, the message read simply, "The Happy Couple". Attached to the email were the photos of him and Stacy, as well as a few of Monica and Erica in their Captain America T-shirts. All three women were posing oddly in one photo that was named "Charlie's Angels", which Steve didn't quite get, but he was sure he could ask Stacy about it later.

His smile got wider as he opened up the other emails and attached photos that she had sent. First was one at the Big Bad Voodoo Daddy concert. The more he looked at the photo of her, the more she really did seem like an incarnation of Rita Hayworth with green eyes. He remembered how he almost didn't go to that concert and a shiver of fear went through him. What would his life be like now if he hadn't taken that leap?

He looked through the rest of the photos, ignoring the fact that he really should go to bed. He saw the babysitting ones and he grinned at seeing Stacy cradling the tiny infant. He opened the photos from Michael's bowling birthday and his own surprise party. He thought back at how overwhelmed he had felt when he came back that afternoon and had seen his entire apartment decorated by his friends.

He clicked through a few more of the summer photos, his smile growing with each one. One afternoon, he had gone with Monica and Stacy and the kids they were nannying to the Central Park Zoo. He remembered fielding questions the entire afternoon from the children who were fascinated with the Avengers. His favorite photo of that day was of him and Stacy in front of the sea lions, his arm draped over her shoulder, hers slipped around his waist, leaning into him. However, if he were honest with himself, he spent the most time staring at the beach photos of Stacy, mesmerized by his own private pin-up girl.

It was the first time he'd seen most of the photos. One thing he'd been warned about time and time again by S.H.I.E.L.D. command was the problems inherent in modern social media for their line of work. One slip-up and the enemy could have information to use against you. Steve had no Facebook account. His only email address was from work. He was very careful to ask his friends not to post pictures of him. Luckily, given that he insisted on wearing his helmet on mission and whenever he had public appearances, he rarely had to worry about the general public recognizing him and hounding him for photos.

As he scrolled through the pictures once again, he chastised himself for waiting so long to ask Stacy out. He'd been so consumed with the fear that she'd either reject him outright or that they'd break up and he'd go back to living like a hermit. He could see now that those fears were baseless and he couldn't believe he'd been so overly cautious.

He stretched and yawned and saw that it was past midnight. He really needed to get to bed soon. He had to pack and be ready by seven.

00000

"How'd the big date go?" Natasha asked him as he hopped into the helicopter the next morning, slinging his duffel bag in with him.

"Actually, it was wonderful." Steve grinned as he remembered the date.

She nodded coolly and didn't comment. He couldn't help but notice that of all his friends, Natasha had been the least enthusiastic about him and Stacy. He knew it wasn't jealousy. It was an open secret around S.H.I.E.L.D. that she and Clint were together.

Agent Barton was on an extended sabbatical after The Battle of New York. After what Loki did to him, Clint had a hard time recuperating. He was able marshal himself enough to fight the Chitauri in New York, but afterwards, he spun out of control. S.H.I.E.L.D. had pulled him from active duty and sent him on a long vacation to an undisclosed location. Steve knew that Natasha visited him whenever she wasn't on an assignment.

It bothered Steve that Natasha was so skeptical of Stacy. He noticed that she'd make off-hand comments about her from time to time that, while disguised as casual conversation, had a biting undertone. He hadn't wanted to say anything about it since he valued their working relationship so much. Natasha was a superb agent and one of the few people he relied on without question in the field. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize their work together.

So, he kept his mouth shut and just went over the mission specs Natasha had emailed him as she piloted the helicopter. Once again, S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lead on some Hydra facilities and they seemed rather hopeful. He looked over the team that she had assembled and nodded at the choices. Natasha had an innate ability to know which team members would work well in each situation. Most of the names were familiar to Steve and he felt like they would be effective together.

00000

Later on that day, after a myriad of meetings aboard the hellcarrier, Steve and his team were assigned a plane and began the long flight down to Chile. There were some indications that the Hydra was in the region, so there was a big push to send a team down there to investigate. There was a time that Steve would have leapt at the chance to go on a mission, but he had to admit, he almost resented being called away from New York.

Once they had landed in Santiago, Chile, the real mission planning would begin. Natasha had a few local assets she could contact and pump for information. Steve had no experience with undercover work and contented himself with reviewing the files of his teammates and organizing the most effective strike force for when they found the facility. Their plane served as their base of operations as well as their transport.

When he finally got a few moments to himself, Steve sat down in the middle of lounge area of the plane at large conference table used for debriefing. He opened his laptop and started it up. He knew he'd have more privacy in his bunk, but the wifi was acting up, constantly cutting out. There were a few other agents there on their laptops, obviously having the same problems with their internet connection. He had to grin. Here he was in the future, but there were still glitches here and there.

He noticed another operative, Agent Montero, a few seats down on his side of the table, obviously talking to her family on Skype.

"Te amo, mi amor. Cuídate," she said.

"Tú también, mi vida," came the reply. Steve assumed it was from her husband.

She sighed and tapped the touchpad to hang up. She closed her laptop and began to stand.

"Um, excuse me, Agent Montero?" Steve began.

"Yes, Agent Rogers?," she replied with a smile. They had been assigned a few missions before and Steve had the opportunity to get to know her a little bit.

"I was wondering if you might be able to help me."

"Of course," she said.

"I'm trying to set up Skype with someone back home, but I'm not quite sure how to go about it."

"Oh, it's easy." She grinned and walked over to where he was sitting. "I can walk you through it."

"Thanks; I appreciate it."

She showed him how to download and install the program as well as how to set up his account and find Stacy's username. Steve was surprised at how simple it was, but he was relieved that he had asked for help. Even the easiest of tasks sometimes went pear-shaped when it came to technology.

"Thank you," Steve said as they finished. "Um . . . Just one more thing. I have a question."

"Sure. Fire away."

"How do you do it? Have a family and be an agent?"

She stiffened and the tension was palpable in her voice. "Are you asking that because I'm a woman?"

Steve's eyes widened, feeling chagrined that he had offended her. "No, no. I'm asking since you seem to really make it work. I just started dating someone and it could get serious. Actually, truth be told, I hope it gets serious. It's just . . . I know a lot of agents who don't believe that our line of work mixes with family life."

She smiled in relief at his reassurance. "Well, the truth is, it doesn't work for everyone. However, S.H.I.E.L.D. is actually one of the better agencies when it comes to family leave and sabbaticals. They understand that they can only push their operatives so far. When my kids were little, I worked fewer assignments or did analysis from home. My husband and I have worked out a way that I can do what I do best, but still be there for my family. It's a compromise, but it's better than the alternative."

"The alternative?" Steve asked.

"Some people marry themselves to the job. Everything else, be it family, friends, love, a social life, is secondary. Then, they wake up at age 60 or 65 and realize, quite frankly, that the job doesn't love them back."

Steve nodded, glad that he had talked to her. "Thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome. Any time," she said with a smile as she stood and walked over to collect her laptop.

Steve peered at his laptop and noticed that Stacy was on-line at the moment. He clicked the icon with her smiling face and tapped his fingers as he waited for her to pick up.

"Steve!" she nearly shouted, a wide grin on her face. "I'm so excited to see you. How are you?"

She was sitting up in her bed, hair up in a ponytail, wearing an oversized blue sweatshirt. Steve realized that with the time difference it was almost 11 p.m. where she was and she must have been getting ready for bed.

"Good. And you?"

"Fine. I missed you this morning. I hate having to work out by myself."

"I . . . . I've missed you, too," Steve admitted.

"So, how's work?"

Steve frowned. "I really can't say."

"Okay, okay. I get it, Mr. Secret Agent; what can you talk about?" she asked impishly.

"I really liked those photos you sent. Thanks," he replied.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked them. So, when are you coming back?" she pouted.

"Stacy . . . I wish I could tell you, but I can't." Steve felt self-conscious having the conversation out in the open, but he knew the connection would be severed if he tried to relocate to his room.

"It's fine. Um, anyhow. What about the Halloween party?"

"What about it?" Steve asked.

"Well, what time does it start? Is it a costume party? What are we going to wear?"

"We?" he repeated.

"Well, we're going to have matching costumes, right?"

Steve stifled a laugh. Bruce was right, once again. "Sure, if you'd like."

"So, what do you want to go as?"

Steve thought back to something she had said a while back. "Don't you have that nurse's uniform?"

"Yeah, it's vintage, from the 1940s. I've been dying to wear it."

And I'm dying to see you in it, Steve thought.

"So, what are you going to wear? One of your old dress uniforms?" she asked.

"Um, I don't think so. It doesn't feel right to wear them to a costume party."

"Yeah, I can understand that. What about that suit you wore to the Big Bad Voodoo Daddy concert? That would work."

Steve nodded. "There's something I should tell you." He was a bit nervous about his upcoming confession.

"Okay."

"When he invited me to the party, Tony told me that the party is going to be full of celebrities. The entrance fee will go towards the New York City rebuilding fund."

"Oh, wow."

Steve took a deep breath and forged ahead. "So, there's a silent auction. For the fund. A while back, Tony asked me if there was anything I could contribute. At first, I couldn't think of anything."

He paused for a while, trying to choose his words.

"Go on," she said supportively.

"Um, well. I like to draw and I had some sketches. He saw them when he came over once and suggested I donate them. You know, to help charity."

"Steve . . . . what were they sketches of?" she asked in mock sternness.

Steve looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes. "You."

"Me? Why me? Why would you sketch me?"

He looked up and stared at her through the screen. "Because you're beautiful."

Stacy began to blush, the color spreading across her cheeks as she looked down, obviously a bit overwhelmed. "Oh, that's so sweet."

He saw Natasha out of the corner of his eye. She was waving to him from across the room. "Sorry, but it looks like I've got to go."

"That's okay. Call me anytime."

"I will. I promise. Good-bye."

"Take care of yourself. Bye," she said, blowing him a kiss before hanging up.

Steve's wallpaper came up on his laptop after he closed the program, the beach photo of Stacy. A junior level one agent walked by, spied the photo, and let out a long wolf whistle. "Now, isn't that a fine piece of" he began.

"Son, if I were you, I'd seriously re-evaluate the end of that sentence," Steve interrupted, his fury barely contained as he turned and stared daggers at the operative.

"Yes. . . yes, sir," the agent replied shakily before scurrying away.

Steve shook his head as he closed his laptop and walked over to Natasha for yet another planning meeting.

00000

The next few weeks were frustrating beyond belief. Once again, Hydra seemed to be one step ahead of them, vacating their facilities throughout both Central and South America just as Steve and his team were about to sweep in. Luckily, by using advanced bomb detection, his team avoided any casualties, but Steve was beyond exhausted. He knew he was pushing everyone too hard, but the fruitless searching was driving the entire team to the edge.

His only relief came in the form of his Skype calls to Stacy. She would tell him funny stories about her day or their friends and he could almost forget the worries he had over his continually failing mission. At night, in his bunk, he'd listen to his IPOD, blaring Harry Connick Jr. or Michael Bublé, with his eyes closed, imagining her swaying to the music with him.

00000

One afternoon, Steve walked into the lounge to see Natasha and an operative from the tech team sweeping the rest of the agents with an advanced version of a hand-held security wand.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I finally got some good intel. It looks like Hydra may have coated one of our operatives, without their knowledge, with a tracing compound. That's how they've been able to track us and evacuate before we get there. The tech team modified this security wand to detect the chemical," Natasha explained.

"Any sign of it so far?" Steve asked.

"No, we're just finishing up. We'll need to test you as well."

Steve nodded and assumed the standard position for a security check, feet shoulder width apart and hands out. Agent Tran traced the outlines of his body and stopped when the machine beeped near his right hand.

"What does that mean?" he asked her.

She gave him a tight smile as she checked his other hand and the machine didn't go off. "It looks as though someone swabbed a surface that they knew that you would touch. The chemical won't come off with soap and water. You'll need a chemical solvent to remove it."

Steve looked down at his hand, horrified that he was in some way responsible for the failure of their mission. "I . . . I didn't know."

"Look, it's fine, Steve. Hydra's been playing us for months. But, we can use this to our advantage," Natasha said.

"How so?"

"Our next lead is for Guatemala."

"And?"

"We're going to send you away on a wild goose chase. Hydra will follow you and we'll be able to catch them with their pants down. So to speak," Natasha smirked.

Steve hated the idea of leaving his team behind, but he couldn't argue with her logic.

"So, how long will Hydra be able to trace me?"

Natasha gave him a small smile. "A week, maybe less? We should finish up before the end of the month. When we get back to New York, I'll send a tech team to your apartment with the solvent to remove the chemical."

Steve nodded. "Okay, I'll pack up."

00000

For the next few days, Steve crisscrossed the globe, crammed in economy seating on questionable airlines, surviving mostly on peanuts and pretzels handed out mid-flight. He lost count of how many time zones he crossed and sleep was just a dim memory. He'd only stay for a day or two in any one country, then he'd receive an encrypted email from Natasha and dutifully jump on yet another jet bound for who knows where.

He didn't even bother trying to Skype Stacy, having a hard enough time checking his emails in one foreign country after another. Instead he'd call and leave voicemail messages in the middle of the night. Stacy would return his calls, but his phone would usually be off since he was on yet another flight. She called it "playing phone tag" and he grinned at the phrase.

He couldn't stay in any of the usual S.H.I.E.L.D. safe houses, since their locations would then be exposed to Hydra. He ended up staying in a baffling range of hotels set up through S.H.I.E.L.D. Some were five-star accommodations with turndown service and mints on the pillow. Others were rat-infested dives with beds that had actual springs poking through the mattress.

Finally, he got the okay from Natasha that he could return to New York. Their team had successfully raided a Hydra weapons plant outside of Guatemala City. Thanks to the Night-Night guns, they were able to capture the majority of the scientists alive and they could be assured of finally getting some quality intel from the upcoming interrogations.

00000

Steve finally arrived at his apartment the day before the Halloween party. He was beyond exhausted. Every muscle ached from the cramped airline seats and shoddy beds. He dropped his duffel bag on his bed and contemplated sleeping for the next 24 hours straight.

He looked up at the clock and realized that if Stacy were following her usual schedule, she would have just entered the gym. He grinned and walked the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up. He quickly changed his shirt and left his apartment.

He saw her on the elliptical, earbuds in her ears, singing along to some song as she bounced along. He just stood there a minute, drinking the sight, not realizing until that moment how much he had really missed her.

He came up and touched her lightly on her arm and she faltered, nearly falling off the machine from the surprise. She ripped off her earbuds and smiled at him, yelling "Steve!" happily, before hopping off the machine. She launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

He stood there a while, enjoying the feeling of her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the feeling of her cheek against chest. He held her loosely in his arms, running his hands up and down her back, drinking in the sweet scent of her perfume.

"I missed you so much!" she declared when she finally looked up at him.

"I missed you, too," he said before bending down and kissing her lightly.

"You looked so tired. Are you alright?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

Steve took a deep breath, trying to stave off a yawn. "Just a lot of travel."

"You don't look like you're up to working out. Maybe we could just have a quick cup of coffee at your place?"

"Yes, definitely."

00000

"So, did you bring me back any souvenirs?" she teased as she settled on the couch next to him, a cup of decaf coffee in her hands.

"No, sorry. I didn't have much time for shopping," he said ruefully.

"And no postcards, either, I take it?"

"Sorry." He shook his head once again and managed to look remorseful. He understood how frustrating it must be for her to not know where he was or what he was doing for weeks on end.

"You look all sore and achy. Are you okay?" she asked.

"Like I said, just a lot of travel."

"Okay, you're in luck because giving excellent backrubs is one of my many skills." She leaned over and took the cup from his hands and placed it on a coaster on the end table next to the couch. "Go ahead and sit down on the ground in front of me."

"What?"

"I promise you, you'll thank me for it afterwards."

Steve shrugged and went over and sat on the ground in front of her, knees bent, arms wrapped around them. She leaned over from her position sitting on the couch and began massaging his shoulders through the thin material of his T-shirt, her thumbs stroking away at the tense muscles.

After a few moments of heaven, she said, "Lean over a bit," and he quickly complied. Her hands traveled down the length of his back, focusing on the areas on either side of his spine. The pressure was perfect, not too strong and not too light. She slowly worked her way back up to his shoulders.

"Lean back again," she instructed and after he did, her hands kneaded down the length of both arms, before returning once more to his shoulders. Her thumbs slowly rubbed the muscles on the back of his neck, applying just right amount of force. She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, her short nails sending shivers down his spine. Then, she leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "See, I told you that you'd thank me," she breathed into his ear.

Before he could reply, she stood up and grabbed her coffee cup. She headed over to the sink to wash out her cup.

It took a moment before Steve could form words. "Thanks . . . um . . . Where did you learn to do that?"

"I told you I had mad skills. Would you believe church youth group?"

"Church sure has changed over the years," he replied as he leaned back against the couch.

"Well, look, you get a bunch of fifteen year olds together, all drowning in hormones. It was a G-rated way to paw at each other. We'd have these long trains of people sitting on the floor, giving a back rub to the person in front of them. Then, someone would yell 'switch' and you'd turn around and give a backrub to the person behind you."

"At church?" Steve asked as he stood up.

"Well, I mean, not during service, but during the mid-week youth group meeting. Like I said, we were teenagers. The trick was sitting in front of your crush," she confessed.

"And did you?"

"Oh, yeah. I totally did," she admitted.

"Who was he?" Steve tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

"My crush when I was fifteen? His name was Ricky." She smiled in remembrance and then shook her head to clear her thoughts. "You know, I should probably get going. I've got early morning recess duty. You look exhausted. If you want, I can just take the subway home."

"No. I want to give you a ride home."

00000

A half hour later, they stood in front of her apartment door. "So," Steve started, trying to act casually as he faced her, holding her hand, "Do you . . . do you see him now? You know, Ricky?"

"Are you jealous, sweetie?" she asked gleefully, as she swung their hands back and forth.

"No . . . maybe a little," he confessed.

"Well, not to worry. He's married with a kid, living in Oregon. I haven't seen him in over five years. Don't worry, babe. I'm all yours."

He leaned down slowly and kissed her fiercely, possessively, both hands tangled in her hair. "All mine," he murmured in her ear.

"All yours," she repeated with a wink after a moment and then turned and opened the door to her apartment. Erica and Monica were there and he couldn't escape the inevitable catching up session that followed. After a few minutes, Stacy politely suggested he go home after he had stifled yet another yawn as his sleepiness returned. He made his good-byes, told Stacy he'd see her the next day for the Tower Halloween party, and left the apartment as quickly as he could.

As he descended the stairs toward the front door of the building, the same thought went through his head again and again, She said it. She's mine.

Author's Notes-

1. Rough Spanish translation-

I love you, my love. Take care.

You, too, my life. (can also be translated, my love).

2. Yes, I know I said that we'd get to the Tower Halloween Party in this chapter, but this chapter began to grow and grow and I figured you'd rather have a 4,500 word chapter in six days than a 7,500 word chapter in two weeks.

I promise that we'll get to it in the next chapter.

3. By the way, I want to take a moment and especially thank the reviewers. Some of you have written such lovely things that I have seriously wanted to cry. This is my most ambitious story yet, and your sweet encouragement is what has made it possible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.