T MINUS ONE HOUR
CLEVELAND, OHIO
The neighborhood had once been suburban, but now it was run-down and tired. The decorative trees were overgrown, the pavement was cracking, and when the breeze wasn't blowing, the stale air carried an ever-present bite of cigarette smoke.
Steve and Natasha holed up in an abandoned lot, peering through binoculars behind cover of overgrown bushes.
Steve had watched as a tiny compact car pulled into the cul-de-sac. He'd winced as it crunched the tail light of the car in the driveway. He'd hardly dared to blink as a figure in gloves and a knit cap stepped into the house, and now, all he saw were yellowed window blinds.
"Nothing's moving." He sighed and sat back, and the dead grass crunched underneath him. "I kind of wish I'd bugged them."
Natasha was fine-tuning some small device in her hand, but she paused and looked up. "You didn't?"
"I didn't think of it until now." He didn't mean to get defensive, but he scowled anyway. "Neither did you."
"I thought of it, Rogers." She went back to tuning the device. "It's just not my argument. I figured I'd respect their privacy."
"When would you even have had the chance to bug them?"
"I'd find a way."
He peered through the binoculars again. Nothing. He sighed heavier this time.
Natasha's voice was low. "What are you gonna do if something goes wrong?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly enough. "Charge in there, I guess."
She chuckled. "Classic Steve."
He didn't laugh. He barely even smiled.
The next thing he felt was a thin hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said seriously. "It's gonna be okay."
He sighed. "I know." His eyes narrowed. "I hope so."