She stood in the darkness by the empty lot. There wasn't even a wire fence, just high weeds, yellow in the haze of a flickering street light stood at the end of the cracked footpath.
She double checked the address in the text Tony had sent. She hadn't got it wrong. The crumbling buildings on the other blocks didn't look any more promising. They might have been projects some decades before.
Nearby she saw that there was a pick-up truck, a classic, some kind of Ford Coupe from the '50s. A trailer sat slumped in a pothole behind it. It looked like it had been a long time since it was properly hitched up behind the Ford. She knocked tentatively at the rusty door of the trailer. Her heart was beating a little faster.
"Hello?"
There was no sound from within.
She tried a second time with a more confident knock and a louder voice.
"Steve?"
There were a few more beats of silence before she heard a voice from inside, "you can come in, it's not locked". The voice sounded like that of a man who was sober, so she dared to open the door and look in.
Inside it was gloomy and dusty and she was met by the fragrance of old street food rising from the debris of takeout packaging scattered over every surface. Except the cot in the back, which just had rumpled sheets. Not the military corners she might have expected from an "old army friend" of Tony's. An old newsreel was playing on a small radio, " … on the air with the March of Time! This is the National Broadca-". The radio clicked off.
The man had been lazing by an open window in a worn recliner that was faded like the loose khaki t-shirt he wore. As he stood up across the trailer from her, she saw just how tall and exceptionally well built he was. The shirt and sweatpants didn't hide that. The loose fabric simply draped over the curves of his muscles as the light that shined through the window from the street outlined them.
"A friend said to come to you. I… um…"
He moved towards her and she tensed, shuffling back towards the doorway.
He reached out and tapped on the light switch next to her. Now she could see his face clearly, the parts not masked by his beard. She found herself stunned for a moment as she looked up at him. His face was still but tense. His eyes were pale and piercing as he stared at her. There was a slightly downward curve in the expression of his mouth. Because he looked so ragged — longish dirty blond hair framing his face and beard — his fine features took her off guard. She stared into his eyes just as directly as he was staring into hers. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt there was a dangerousness about the seriousness in his eyes and his intimidating physique. But there was a deep sadness cast over him. He looked exhausted by the world.
Then she recognised him.
"Oh, you're… I'm sorry, I didn't come to bother you."
His voice was rich and its tone was matter of fact. "I know why you're here. Tony called and said you were coming."
There was a silence while she awkwardly stared at him with her mouth slightly open. Then she collected herself. "I don't want to be here any more than you want me here," she said quietly.
He could probably see that she was telling the truth. Even though she was trying to look friendly, she knew that behind her dark eyes there was an emptiness. There were shadows under her eyes and she wasn't any better put together than him.
"I don't want to admit it, but I'm scared," she shrugged one shoulder, looking away from him to escape his steady gaze.
His expression softened a bit. After a moment he sighed and seemed to consider helping her. He ran his hand over his tired face. "Where do you need to get to?"
"It's not that far. I mean it shouldn't take too long to get there. An hour, maybe…" She looked him over and at the state of the place. "You don't seem to have much going on." She tilted her head as if to say, so why not? "I'll order in," she offered.
"Alright." He didn't even grab his keys, just his jacket and phone and calmly walked to the door where she stood and he gestured "ladies first".
She nodded and stepped back down onto the footpath.
He swung the door shut behind him. It didn't close properly but he ignored it. She looked back at the door questioning him with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't worry about it," he said, obviously he couldn't care less if something happened to the trailer or whatever was in it. "Which way?"
"My car is over there."
She hadn't said anything to explain her situation. Hadn't said anything much at all while she was driving, actually. In his experience, people in need of help usually felt obliged, often relieved, to explain their problems. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him.
"So who are you afraid of?"
"I'm just scared," she said evasively.
"How can I protect you if I don't know what I'm up against?"
"It's nothing that would challenge someone like you."
"Someone like me," he echoed with a wry smile.
"There aren't many like you, are there?" She said rhetorically. He saw her smile for the first time. It transformed her face, giving her dark eyes a sort of mischievous glint.
Just then a passing car sped up beside them. It screeched as it sped off ahead and out of sight. Her foot came off the accelerator and her grip on the steering wheel turned her knuckles white.
"Are you ok?" he asked, seeking how startled she was. She took in a shaky breath and put her foot back down, "yeah, I'm fine."
She knew that didn't sound the least bit convincing, but for the time being he didn't push the question and she was grateful for that. He just asked if she would prefer it if he drove instead.
"Okay," she said.
o o o o o o
He walked a few steps behind her as she approached her front door, surveying the street. The porch light was on, he supposed she had left it that way. As he came to stand close behind her he noticed the tremble in her hand as she unlocked her front door. She ducked in quickly and almost slammed it behind him. It locked automatically and she went straight to the security panel on the wall, but she didn't disable it, she re-enabled the alarms.
She turned around too quickly and bumped into his chest. He took hold of her arms to steady her as she apologised.
"Can I take your jacket?" asked Steve.
She was confused by the question for a moment,"oh, of course– no you're my guest, let me take yours."
"Please", he insisted, and when she nodded, Steve moved behind her to slide it off her shoulders smoothly without touching her. He hung their jackets by the door and followed as she led him into the living room.
He let his eyes wander the room. There was an original Victorian fireplace and mantel with a large flat screen TV mounted above and built-in bookcases either side, packed full of books. He made a mental note to take a closer look at the titles. Books could tell you a lot about a person.
Her place looked like it had been really nice, once, expensive too. Now it was homely but neglected. Not that he judged her for that. Nonetheless, the overstuffed sofa was pretty inviting after the months upon months of being holed up in that dank trailer in his self-imposed isolation.
She dropped her keys onto a teak sideboard and must have caught his look, "please sit."
He sunk down into it and couldn't help but sigh and close his eyes. He heard her snicker at him as she left the room. "I guess that's where you live now," she called out. He could hear her washing her hands in a bathroom down the hallway.
"Wild Horses…" he smiled as she reappeared.
She obviously got the reference to the Rolling Stones' song but for some reason her face fell. "That's quite a modern reference for someone of your vintage"
He narrowed his eyes at her, "we just met and you're calling me old?"
She bit her tongue and smiled as she crossed the room past the kitchen island and took two tumblers from a shelf.
"I've picked up a few new things along the way," he said.
"Hopefully not too much," she said as she looked inside the fridge for some drinks.
His eyebrows shot up, "you're going to have to qualify that comment".
"Let's just say some things haven't improved with time," she said, throwing an expired bottle into the trash.
"Equally vague."
"But, true!" She said in a singsong voice.
"OK, yes," he conceded, "I think you're referring to specifics, though, whether you want to mention them or not."
She brought over a bottle of lemon lime and bitters with the glasses. "Well, a lady doesn't speak of such things," she said in a prissy voice.
He shot back, "don't lay it on so thick."
There was a twinkle in her eye, and she was suppressing a smile, obviously not saying the comeback that had instantly come to mind.
In his head the voice of Tony Stark said, "That's what she said!" He often thought of Tony — when he did occasionally think of him — as the devil on his shoulder. Steve mentally rolled his eyes, then wondered if that was the sort of comeback she had thought of, so he started analysing the expression on her face. She swallowed and actually blushed, then turned her face away, hiding behind her long dark hair. Despite himself, he found her demure reaction cute, and the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly in amusement.
She changed the subject, "sorry, it's this or tap water."
"Thanks, this is good."
"What kind of food do you like?" she picked up her phone.
"You don't have to order anything, it's fine."
She glanced at the front door nervously. When she spoke it was without conviction, "it'll be OK, we have to eat. There's really nothing here. What do you feel like?"
"I'm easy, nothing fancy. You pick."
"Alright, let's spin the wheel and see where it lands. You choose the movie."
"You want to watch a movie?"
"It might take a while for the food to get here. I don't think I'm much good for conversation right now, to be honest. They're in that cabinet."
She's stressed out. Perhaps the distraction would be good, he thought. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the DVDs she had.
"They're in chronological order," he said looking back at her, bemused.
"A pleasant surprise?"
"A Trip to the Moon. Metropolis, Modern Times…"
"You can skip a few decades."
"I already did," he joked, "Notorious?"
"Nazis in south America. A bit close to home perhaps?"
"Can't be as bad as Iron Sky." At her blank look he elaborated, "Nazis on the moon."
She snorted, "classic."
o o o o o o
"He was quite a boy. They really don't make 'em like they used to," she sighed dreamily as Cary Grant cast a cheeky smile at Ingrid Bergman.
"No, they don't," he agreed, with a half cocked smile.
"Hey!" she pretended to slap his shoulder. All he felt was the movement of air her hand stirred.
The food was laid out over the coffee table and they both ate sitting on the sofa facing the TV.
"Mind if I ask, why did you want to come back? You obviously don't feel safe here."
It took her a while to answer, "I don't feel safe anywhere anymore. I don't want to wake up somewhere strange. At least if I can sleep I'll wake up knowing where I am – home."
"Fair enough." He saw the intent look in her eyes. He wiped his hands and sat back, regarding her.
"You know what I'm going to ask," she said.
Eventually he said, "you want me to stay." His voice was resigned.
"I want you to stay. Please."
"If you explain what's going on," his tone didn't leave any room for negotiation.
"Alright," she said slowly, "I will. Just not tonight."
o o o o o o
Steve stretched and slowly got up, careful not to make a noise that would wake her as she slept with her arms and head on the armrest of the sofa. Another movie was still playing.
He walked to the window and pushed aside the curtains to look out at the street. It was quiet and empty, except for the distant bark of a dog.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Tony.
Tony's voice on the other end was smug. "Need my help already? I thought you'd be able to handle a simple escort mission."
"I just want to know what I'm supposed to be protecting her from," he said in a hushed tone.
"So she hasn't told you… um… yeah, don't worry it's nothing extraterrestrial. Just your regular suburban babysitting job."
"Whoever is after her has her shaken. If she's a friend of yours why isn't she staying at the Tower?"
"She was. That's where she came from tonight. She wants to be in her own home. Couldn't talk her out of it. It's her choice. Look, I'll give you twenty bucks and the key to the snack cupboard."
Steve sighed, "this better be worth my time."
"I thought nothing was worth your time anymore," Tony shot back, taking a dig at him.
Of course Tony would take the cheap shot, he thought. Steve just shook his head and hung up.
He closed the curtains and looked back at her, so exhausted she'd passed out draped over the sofa like a ragdoll. If I was actually the babysitter I'd have to pick her up and take her to bed… As the image played in his mind he thought where that act could lead the two of them. He shut down the thought quickly.
Wow that train of thought took off like a runaway car. Geez, train metaphors, I am a hundred years old.
He went and looked in the kitchen cupboards and fridge. She wasn't kidding. There was next to nothing. The bathroom didn't have any first aid kit either. He dialled the Tower, "J.A.R.V.I.S., I need supplies."
"Will that be in addition to the package en route?"
"Package?"
There was a knock at the door. On the security monitor Steve saw a large cardboard box sitting outside on the porch as if it had appeared there by magic.
"Your package has been delivered," said J.A.R.V.I.S..
Steve frowned and hung up.