Steve looked up when he heard Agent Hayes calling his name from the cabin, turning to see her leaning against the doorway. "Lunch is ready!"

He closed his sketchbook as he stood, tucking it under his arm. Agent Hayes left the door open, allowing the smell of food to waft out into the fresh air and engulf Steve, reminding him of how little he'd eaten in the past day. "That smells delicious."

"Glad you think so, because I'm no chef." Hayes teased as she stacked three pork chops onto a plate, along with a massive slop of mashed potatoes and green beans. "Hopefully, it's cooked enough for you. My cooking talents started and ended with baking cookies with Mom."

"Yeah? I saw there were cookies in the box." Steve gestured toward the pantry as he sat at the table, laying his sketchbook on the chair next to him. "I don't suppose you'd help me learn to cook?"

Hayes turned her head just enough for Steve to catch her grin as she dished up her own meal, "Yeah, that's actually on the list Fury gave me."

Steve stiffened, not realizing his handler had a to-do list, "A list?"

"Yeah, there's things he wants to make sure you learn and understand. So you can survive in the modern world." Hayes explained as she sat her own plate down across from Steve. He waited for her to elaborate; brows raised expectantly as she picked up her knife to begin cutting her meat. She lifted her bright hazel eyes to his and set down her silverware, "I can show it to you after lunch. It isn't a secret. It's basic stuff. Cooking. Laundry. Taxes. He just wants to make sure that you know how to take care of yourself, since so much has changed."

"Mmm," Steve hummed as he cut through his own pork chops carefully, slicing the steak knife through the three of them together, "I guess that makes sense."

He focused on cutting up his lunch, creating little squares until he finally shoved a bite into his mouth. His gaze shifted up instinctively and he saw Agent Hayes watching him as she ate. Steve didn't comment on it, instead choosing to devour his food. It was the best meal he'd had in years, and that wasn't counting his time in the ice. "This is delicious."

"I'm glad you like it." Hayes told him gently, "The doctors who got you out of the ice were worried how your body would react to being jump started after such a long time of suspended animation. They suggested you not eat too much until you'd been awake several hours. Now you can start going back to normal."

"I've gone longer without food." Steve admitted, realizing his plate was empty and he'd wolfed down the rest of his meal while she was talking. "Thank you though."

She smiled, but her eyes looked sad, "It's what I'm here for." She sighed, stabbing her fork into her pile of beans with precision of a trained killer. "So, where do you want to start? We have as much time as we need. We can go over things at your own pace. If you want more time to just… process, I get that. Let me know when you're ready to talk and what you want to talk about."

Steve nodded, going back and forth between his options in his head. He could go back to sketching by the lake until dinner time, but he felt bad leaving his handler to cook and clean while he wallowed in self-pity. He also didn't want to be taught like a schoolboy. He was an adult, and he didn't want to check boxes on Agent Hayes's list until she could release him into the wild.

"Could we maybe just talk?" Steve suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter and grabbing his plate, "You did the cooking, I'll clean up."

"I can do it-"

"I'm sure you can, but I'd like to help." Steve stood and his chair scraped loudly, causing Agent Hayes to flinch. "Sorry!" He yelped, backing up and hitting the counter.

He felt flustered, but Hayes just stood and carried her plate over to the sink, keeping her eyes locked onto him as she set it down and grabbed his, "How about I wash and you dry? For Captain America, you're kinda clumsy."

"In my defense, I haven't moved in almost seventy years." Steve released the plate and grabbed a towel from the counter, "So, where you from?"

"This isn't about me, it's about you. Where are you from?" Agent Hayes avoided his question easily, but he just snorted in response. She looked up at him as she began to run the water and rinse off the plates, "What?"

"You really going to tell me you didn't read anything about me? SHIELD doesn't have any files on Captain America?" He punctuated his moniker bitterly as she handed him his cleaned plate.

Agent Hayes shrugged, "Just because I read your file doesn't mean I can't make casual conversation."

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine. How am I supposed to trust someone I don't even know?"

She shrugged, handing him the second plate to dry, "You haven't seemed too worried about it yet. You haven't even asked for my first name."

Red colored Steve's cheeks as he realized she was right. He hadn't even bothered to ask what her first name was, he'd just gone about his day without a care about who was tasked to take care of him. "I'm so sorry."

"Well now you're going to have to earn it." She bit back playfully, and Steve's face burned from embarrassment as he waited for her to tell him what she wanted from him. "Show me your sketchbook, and I'll consider telling you my name."

Steve set down the dried plate as Agent Hayes continued to wash their silverware. He picked up his sketchbook and flipped it to the page he'd chosen to draw on, twisting his lips thoughtfully before handing her the pad. Steve studied her reaction, noting how her eyes worked diligently and her mouth twitched as she studied every detail of what he'd drawn, "This is really good."

"My fingers are stiff. It'll be better once I'm-" Steve paused, unsure what exactly he was trying to get back to, "a little more myself."

Agent Hayes traced her fingers over the drawing, then handed it back to Steve firmly, "Los Angeles. The suburbs."

Steve raised his brow, smirking at the woman beside him, "Were you gonna be in pictures?"

"Movies? No, I grew up there. Got out of dodge at sixteen when I joined SHIELD." Hayes answered with a chuckle, "I don't think I'd make a very good actress."

Steve gazed down at his sketchpad, momentarily distracted by the flaws in his drawing as his mind began to drift away. He suddenly realized he was ignoring Agent Hayes and being rude, "I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't need to apologize, because you're experiencing something nobody else ever has? Yeah, that sounds pretty fair to me." Hayes replied with a shrug. "You can go back to drawing. You still have a few more hours of sunlight left. I'll make dinner around seven."

Steve looked through the open window at the lake, wanting nothing more than to situate himself on its bank and draw until he forgot everyone he knew was dead, "Why are you so nice to me?"

"It's my job. Also, I want to get to know you. It's one of the reasons why I asked to be your handler." She muttered shyly, using her foot to scratch behind her opposite leg. Steve noticed how her stance was stiff, nervous almost, and he waited to see if she'd say more. She didn't.

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't been particularly nice to you. I'll do better."

"I haven't found you mean." Hayes answered, pushing away from the counter, "You still haven't told me where you're from."

"You still haven't told me your name." Steve answered as he moved to the door, hoping she'd give him at least that before he took some more time to himself.

The corner of her lips pulled up a little, but she ducked her head before Steve could see her smile grow, "The answer to your question is the same as the answer to mine."

Before Steve could ask her to clarify, Agent Hayes strode to the bathroom and closed the door, giving Steve the space he needed to clear his head. He blinked slowly, replaying her words in his head until realization brought a boyish grin to his face.

He grabbed his pencils and left the cabin, choosing to walk the perimeter of the lake instead of sitting in the same spot. He stopped when the cabin was in the background of his view and sat down, stretching out his long legs and squinting up into the sun.

Steve flipped to a fresh page and began to sketch his new angle, taking the time necessary to do a good job. He was enjoying his solitude now, because he knew his companion had a job to do, and he didn't want to make it difficult. Steve found his handler easy going and comfortable to be around.

Steve ignored time as it passed by, both bitter and thankful that it didn't seem to affect him anyway. What did it matter if he spent ten minutes or ten hours? Steve didn't know if he'd even age. He hadn't thought about the effects of Erskine's serum while he was fighting. He did what he could and pushed himself to his limits, because that's what everybody needed from him, but he never considered the lingering side effects.

"You hungry?"

Steve looked up to see Agent Hayes standing in the doorway, tying an apron over her SHIELD uniform as she yelled across the water, "What do you want to eat?"

Steve chuckled as he closed up his sketchbook. He debated telling her about his advanced senses, and the fact she didn't have to scream at him, but part of Steve didn't want to correct her. "Whatever you're cookin!"

She smiled as he approached, and Steve had to actively try not to laugh at how ridiculous she looked with the dirty white apron over her skin-tight catsuit. When he reached her, he pressed his lips together tightly in an effort to hide his grin, but his bright eyes betrayed him because she sighed, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Your apron doesn't match your uniform." Steve said simply, allowing his smile to meet his glistening eyes, "You look out of place."

"Well, there are strict guidelines about assets and their handlers. Especially in the beginning stages. I was instructed to be as professional as possible, but above else, my job is to make sure you are comfortable."

Steve nodded, considering this. She seemed to be reciting rules, and it sparked an idea, "How many assets have you had before?"

"You're my first." She admitted, turning from Steve to lead him inside. She called over her shoulder as he followed, "I'm very good at undercover work. I assimilate well. I'm great at blending in and becoming part of the crowd." She paused as she opened the fridge, leaning her neck back and allowing the man a better view of her face, "I thought that's what you'd need. Someone to help you assimilate. Plus, all the reports said you were nice. I thought you might be a little more… patient with me."

"You are much more patient than I anticipated you'd be. I'll admit, after meeting you in the elevator yesterday I was a little worried-"

"That I was intense." Hayes offered, looking away from Steve to study the contents of her fridge. "If it's any consolation, I kinda thought you might be intense, too. Especially after throwing two grown men through a wall. The dress was a power move on my part."

"So, now you're supposed to wear your uniform when you're around me, Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, it's preferred, at least for a little while-" She stopped mid sentence and looked to Steve with a grin. His brow was raised, to ask if he was correct, but he didn't think she'd look so elated to be called by the wrong name. "Yeah."

"It's nice. I like it." Steve said honestly, relaxing a little as he leaned against the counter.

Brooklyn snorted and grabbed a bag of lettuce and some tomatoes out of the fridge. "It's kinda dorky. At least I got Brooklyn. My little sister got Dallas."

"Dallas?" Steve felt his smile grow as his handler began to open up to him. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-two."

"How old are you?" Steve asked, realizing he didn't even know how old the woman he would be living with was. She smirked, and crossed her arms as she pulled a knife out of the drawer and began to slice up the tomatoes. Steve realized he may have crossed a line and began to stammer, "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Twenty-six. Same as you. Kind of." Brooklyn answered easily, "You were born in 1918?"

Steve nodded once as his smile dropped a little. "Yeah."

"And you went into the ice in 1945?"

"Yeah. It was March I believe."

"So, you never got to your twenty-seventh birthday." Brooklyn said quietly as she placed the little tomato squares into a bowl before turning on the stove. "The fourth, right?"

"Of July, yeah." Steve answered, twisting his mouth thoughtfully.

Brooklyn smiled to herself as she placed a beef patty into a skillet and began to heat it up, "This isn't as awkward when I pretend I don't know the answers, right?"

"It's easy to know everything about me. I guess I didn't realize how much of my story was out there for the public to see." Steve admitted as he tugged on the corner of his leather jacket. "I wasn't really that open about my life. I had a job to do."

"Everybody wants to know the story when a hero dies. Often times they aren't as interesting until they are a victim of tragedy." Brooklyn picked up a flat utensil and started chopping up the beef. "I'm making tacos. It's a little lighter of a meal than lunch, but if you're still hungry, I'll make s'mores for dessert." Steve took a step closer and she cocked her hip to lean her weight against the stove, "To be clear, I'm making s'mores either way, so, don't think it's an inconvenience to still be hungry."

"Can I help?"

"Sure!" Brooklyn stepped to the side so Steve could sidle up beside her to prepare dinner. She handed him the utensil and Steve waited patiently for directions on what to do. "Chop up the meat as it cooks. Make sure its all nice and brown. Everything else we just toss into the shell and we eat."

"Alright. I can do that." Steve said as he began chopping up the meat, his gaze occasionally flitting to Brooklyn as she collected a bag of cheese from the fridge, "So, you have a younger sister, Dallas, and you're from Los Angeles."

"Yup. You know me now. More than most." Brooklyn answered quickly, tilting her head and causing her long hair to spill over her shoulder, "I read your files. I know your birthday and I know your father's name, and I know you never met him, so we don't have to talk about all that if you don't want to. If you do, I'll listen. I know a little something about not having a family."

Steve's shoulders tensed, and he looked away from Brooklyn, not wanting to upset her, "I'm curious, but I don't want to talk about that now."

"Good, because I don't either." She breathed out, "What do you want to drink? I got milk, and the tap water is good. I didn't know if you liked booze, so I didn't get you any, but I can grab something when I go to the store next."

"I can't get drunk." Steve admitted, remembering his conversation with Peggy after he'd downed everything he could get his hands on in an effort to dull the pain of losing his best friend. He felt heavy as the memory of Bucky falling appeared in his mind. Steve felt his knees wobble a little. He jut his free hand out to steady himself as he forced his mind back to reality. "I- I need to go for a minute."

Brooklyn took the utensil from Steve's hand and he considered grabbing her just so he could hold onto someone who was still alive, "Go. You're okay. Let me know if you need me."

Steve nodded and darted toward the bedroom, closing the door, and falling to his knees so he could just sit on the floor and breath. He couldn't fall. He wasn't in the mountains; he was in the woods. He was grounded.

His chest rose and fell as he leaned forward, pressing his fingers to the wooden floor as he tried to catch his breath. The sun was disappearing, and Steve wanted to lay down and go to sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would wake up back home. Or maybe he wouldn't wake up at all.

"Steve?" Brooklyn's soft voice called through the door and he pushed himself back onto his butt and grabbed his mouth to keep from snapping. Steve needed to be alone, but he didn't want to scare her. Brooklyn was all he had.

The door popped open ever so slightly and Steve grit his teeth as his instinct to scream at the woman began to erupt, "Agent Hayes…" His voice was deep in his chest as he glared ahead, but from the corner of his eye he could see the woman lean against the doorframe with a pitying expression. Steve raised his head and snarled, "Leave. Now."

"I'm not afraid of you. I'm here to help."

"I don't need your help. I don't need anybody's help, I cheated death, and it's so much worse than I could have imagined. Get out, and leave me alone."

Steve waited for Brooklyn to react to his warning, waiting to see if she'd cry or run away, but she just smiled sadly and sighed, "Okay. I'm here when you're ready."

The soldier rolled his eyes and leaned against the side of the bed, clenching his jaw as he stared away from his handler. She closed the door and let him sulk alone. It wasn't her fault. She didn't give him flashbacks.

She was here to help him deal with them.

But Steve didn't want to deal with the memory of his best friend's death. He didn't want to deal with hearing Peggy's voice for the last time, and he sure as hell didn't want to deal with freezing his life away.