April rode in a vehicle line akin to a convoy. Three black SUVs, driving from Manhattan to DC. The two agents in the front were silent, and so was she.
She let her fingers mindlessly card through her bag, flipping comic after comic over. She stops on one that catches her eye.
The comic adaptation of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, stares back at her. She slides it out, making sure it is unseen by the prying eyes of the agents.
She flips open the book, the colorful graphics staring back at her without moving.
April quickly snaps it closed and shoves it gently back in her bag. There were two years before she had to worry about Hydra coming out of hiding within Shield.
Unless she said something before then.
Which, April decided she wasn't going to do. Unless something drastic happened. She shakes her head to rid herself of her thoughts.
The eyes of the agents met hers in the rear view mirror. The one in the drivers seat placed his hand on the center console, and began to tap his fingers.
April could vaguely recognize it as Morse code, but nothing more. The other agent tapped back. She looked away.
Testing. Brain scans and strength tests and on and on and on. That's all that happens the first week. April, stuck in a cold lab, wearing a skimpy hospital gown. She had no idea where her things went.
And oh how she longed for her sweatshirt, which was warm.
"This is not what I was expecting when I was dumped into the MCU, of all places," April mutters to herself.
"What was that?" A new voice speaks from across the room. She can feel the blood draining from her face, and she looks up. The man, in a black leather trench coat, strides commandingly across the room.
"My name is-"
"Nick Fury. Sorry, director Fury," April interrupted. The man's face showed barely the faintest sign of surprise, but she could still see it.
"Anyway," he started again, "we're officially done with the preliminary tests. You're getting sent to your new apartment."
April stood, wrapping her arms around herself. Goosebumps rose along her arms, and she fought down a shiver that was forcing its way through her body.
"Apartment? Where?" she asks, stepping forward. Her bare feet made barely any noise as she moved across the tile.
"Somewhere safe, under the watchful eye of a trusted agent," he explains, turning on his heel, and walking out the door. She trots after him, but stops as the back of her gown starts to fall open.
"Wait! Who? Where? Please, I want answers!" April crys out. The door closed behind the director, and she was alone again.
Her chin bumped against her chest, and she sighed, eyes burning with frustrated tears. She found the padded office chair and sat down. It was the warmest chair she could find.
"Miss, if you could follow me."
She jumped at the voice. April looked up to see one of the scientists standing in the doorway, holding her bag and clothes, neatly folded in a stack.
"The Captain is waiting," he said, voice dropping into a more compassionate tone. Standing, she walks over, accepting her items back, and slinging her bag over her shoulder so it rests behind her.
"Captain? What Captain? Am I going to be able to change into my clothes? Did you look through my stuff?"
The scientist looks behind him, his face displaying annoyance. She stops talking, and keeps walking. She slips her bag off, and hops on one foot as she slips into her jeans, then puts her shirt on underneath the gown.
With a huff, April tears the gown off and shoves it into the trash. The scientist, who continues to display a wide range of facial expressions, now looks to her amused.
April frowns at him.
He points her into a conference room, and she enters, but he does not follow. She sits, and pulls on her socks and shoes.
Then she waits.
April is unsure of how long she waits. So she sits and flips through one of her comic books, without taking in any of the words.
It was the first Civil War, she thought. Flipping back to the beginning, she confirmed. With a sigh, April closed it and put it away.
Her phone had no service in this building, so all she could do was wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Finally, the door opened.
"I apologize for the wait, I got held up in a meeting."
She looked up, and her jaw fell open. Captain. The scientist kept referring to a Captain.
And there he was, blond hair and blue eyes. Defined muscle peeked out from behind his tee shirt.
"My name is Steve Rogers, I'll be keeping my eye on you for the foreseeable future," he explained.
April could hardly breath. She pointed a finger at him weakly.
"I uh... I know who you are," she said. He quirked an eyebrow, and nodded his head for her to follow him. April stands, and does.
Down to a cold garage, where he slings a leg over his motorcycle. She stops.
"No."
"Get on the bike," he says. She crosses her arms, and frowns. With a shake of her head, he sighs.
Standing, he walks toward April. He sticks his helmet, his uniform helmet on her head. If she weren't so damn stubborn, she would probably find this to be one of the coolest moments of her life.
But, to April's concern, he is in no mood to argue. He grips her hips, and she gives a yell. He lifts her up, and sets her down on the back of his bike, then swings on in front of her.
Starting the bike, she yelps and grips his shoulders tightly.
He takes off, down the bridge, and she scrambles to hold on tighter. He reaches up with one hand, moving her hands around his middle.
"Hey, hands on the handle bars!" April snaps, but does take his offer of securing herself around his toned middle. He chuckles and returns his hand.
She recognizes the building instantly.
"I didn't realize I would be your neighbor, Captain Rogers."
He shrugs as he pulls his bike up to the curb. April stumbles off and yanks the cowl from her head, which he stuffs in his saddlebag.
He stands and begins walking. She has to move faster than she normally would to keep up. By the time she reaches the second floor of the building, she is panting.
The Captain turns around and hands April a key.
"You are in that one. I'll see you first thing in the morning," he says, pointing at the door with the number three hanging on it.
She nods and watches as he walks down the hall, and slips into his own apartment without another word. So she does the same.