A/N: My reviewers are my favorite people on earth. You guys are the bomb. This one's for you!
"A few observations and much reasoning lead to error; many observations and a little reasoning to truth."
~Alexis Carrel
"What do you mean, 'You don't feel like talking about it?'" Carmen said somewhere between a yell and a hiss, slamming down a meal tray.
Avery winced and glanced nervously around. It was mid-morning, so the first few waves of customers had already piled into the McDonald's. She desperately hoped that it was too busy for anyone to hear her excited friend, but she noted with dismay that a few customers had already looked up. Besides the fact that she hated having people stare at her, Avery really didn't want anyone else to know that Captain America had been there. He had obviously been undercover, and she would never reveal him just to assuage her lovesick friend's curiosity.
"Carmen, shush," she whispered. "I just don't want to talk about it here, okay?" Or anywhere, she finished silently.
She started toward the kitchen door, hoping the conversation would stop there.
Carmen, however, scampered after her, tripping over herself in desperation. She ignored Avery's not-so-subtle attempts to close the door behind her.
Both girls filed into the kitchen, where practically every surface was stainless steel. A giant wash tub in the corner was next to the typical 'Employees must wash hands before returning to work' sign. A huge freezer hummed at the back of the room, where the other totally unhelpful employees were sitting on the floor, talking amongst themselves.
"But- Avery-" Carmen gasped indignantly, stepping in front of her.
Avery shook her head and pressed her lips together, stepping around the smaller girl. She began dumping the next round of freshly cut fries into the vat of bubbling oil, jumping back a little when it gave a particularly loud hiss.
Sensing she wasn't getting anywhere, Carmen changed tactics and put on her best 'kicked puppy' expression.
"If you can't tell me what he said to you, can you at least tell me what his name was? I know you recognized him from somewhere."
Avery heaved a frustrated sigh and spun to face her. "Why does it matter?! You're probably never going to see him again! And he probably has a girlfriend!"
Carmen flushed crimson. "You don't know that. You don't know any of that."
A beat passed, and Avery went back to preparing the food. The silence that filled the room made her hope she hadn't crushed Carmen's fragile dreams too quickly. It was easy to forget that she was younger, and way less thick-skinned.
Carmen suddenly picked up an empty potato sack and started whacking Avery with it. Avery let out a cry of surprise.
"Now. tell. me." The sack practically cracked like a whip as Carmen wielded it.
"Ow! Pfft, Carmen, stop! Stop!"
Between whacks, Avery actually considered giving the poor girl a name for her mystery crush. But, she told herself, Carmen wasn't stupid- it wouldn't be long before she put two and two together and realized only so many people named "Steve" looked exactly like a certain superhero.
She bit her tongue, and made the split-second decision to lie again.
"I don't know his name, okay?" she pushed Carmen back, snatching the sack out of her hand and putting it back on the counter. "I think he works for my dad; I've seen him around his office before."
Avery mentally patted herself on the back. Her lies were getting smoother.
Instead of being deterred, Carmen's eyes lit up and she grabbed Avery's shoulders. "SO ASK YOUR DAD! He'll know his name!"
Avery face-palmed. Voice muffled, she replied in monotone, "If I ask my dad what his name is, will you please get back to work and serve the line of six billion out there? I can't do everything by myself."
She gave a vague gesture to the tiny window in the kitchen door, through which a line of customers stretching out to the street was visible.
"Uh oh," Carmen said, eyes a little wide. She turned back to her friend. "Deal."
Righting the comically big pink barrette in her hair, she trotted toward the door. As she pushed it open, she turned back to Avery and said, "Don't think I'll forget, Avery Belton. Because I won't." She jabbed an accusing finger.
Avery smirked and raised an eyebrow. "As long as you promise not to beat me with a sack again."
Carmen snorted and finally passed through the door. Avery turned back to the countertop. The smile fell from her face as she continued feeding potatoes into the slicing machine.
True, she was a little pleased her lying skills had improved, but she still felt guilty about deceiving her friend.
She told herself that the lie was definitely for a greater cause. In her own way, she was helping the Captain by not letting word get out of his general whereabouts.
It wasn't long before she was distracted by the demanding customers outside that had multiplied far beyond what Carmen could handle.
When Avery's shift ended, she grabbed her keys, deposited her headset in the back, and shrugged her employee vest off at the door. She caught a glimpse of Carmen finishing off an order at the front when she pushed the door open.
Her beat-up Camaro was waiting for her in the back parking lot, and she gratefully plopped down in the front seat, exhausted from being on her feet all day.
Her nose wrinkled. She pinched the collar of her shirt and pressed it to her nose, then flinched back at the strong scent of greasy food. She would never get used to smelling like musty french-fry after work.
With a mighty huff, she ruffled her hair with her fingers and fired up the engine. She slapped the radio on and found a good channel before driving her way through the lot and out onto the busy streets.
Ironically, amidst the hectic traffic, Avery felt at peace for the first time since her siesta on the roof, before...well...
She tensed up again, her temporary contentment spoiled. She wasn't going to lie to herself. The exact intentions of her unpredictable visitor still had her on edge- and, quite frankly, terrified her.
He had thought she was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but she made it clear enough that she wasn't. His easy acceptance of that fact wasn't what bothered her.
What bothered her was that he stayed long after his questions had been answered. He had even asked her a personal question about how often she went up on the roof.
What could an assassin- one that had no interest in killing her- do with that information?
Unless, she realized, he didn't believe her like he had implied, and he still thought she was a threat. How could she possibly convince him that she really was just a civilian?
Her neck prickled with unease as shards of her bloody nightmare flashed before her eyes.
Maybe she wouldn't be able to convince him. Maybe he would kill her anyway, even after she had helped him at his weakest. She reminded herself that she still didn't know anything about him.
She but her thumbnail while she navigated through the traffic. When one of the lights turned red more abruptly that she was used to, she slammed on the breaks, thrown forward by the inertia of the car.
She couldn't remember the last time she had been caught by this light. It almost never turned red.
Scanning her surroundings, she observed the area in greater detail for the first time. The street was lined by various office buildings, and a handful of neatly-manicured trees peppered the sidewalks. Heat was radiating off the asphalt in visible waves, the city finally losing its mid-morning cool. A number of people in professional wear traipsed up and down the crosswalk, going to and from their jobs.
A knock on her window made her start. "Gah!" she said, head whipping to her left.
An Asian man in a blue vest stood there, smiling, holding a brochure with a picture of the Capitol building.
Avery took a settling breath and rolled down her window. "Hi," she smiled back at him.
"Hello," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but do you happen to know which way the, uh..." He fumbled with his pamphlet and flipped through a few pages. "...Ah, the National Museum of the American Indian is? I'm a little lost."
His English was perfect. Avery had expected him to have a thick accent- D.C. got a ton of foreign tourists around this time of the year. In fact, one of Avery's favorite childhood pastimes was sitting on benches with her dad around the city, watching the tourists pointing in awe at just about every building. They both got more than a few laughs at other peoples' expense.
That being said, Avery did love other peoples' enthusiasm for learning about the United States. She thought it was awesome.
"Sure," she said good-naturedly. "Let's see..." she looked around again, trying to get her bearings. "Um. If you go straight on this road-" she stuck her hand out the window and pointed- "and then take a right, you should be able to see it. You picked a great museum to visit; that's one of my favorites."
She glanced back at him, and saw that he wasn't even looking where she indicated. Instead, his unusually calculative stare was fixed on her, as if he was memorizing her face, her demeanor, her mannerisms. As soon as she made eye contact, he smiled again.
It suddenly seemed fake.
An uncomfortable sensation spilled into Avery's stomach, like liquid lead was filling it and weighing her down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the light turn green.
"Thank you very much," he nodded and backed up.
"No problem," she said warily. She quickly rolled the window up and sped down the road.
When she looked in her rearview mirror, she glimpsed the man not going down the street as she had directed, but standing still on the sidewalk.
He watched as her car drove away.
"Weirdo," she muttered, trying to comfort herself.
At the next stoplight, she locked the doors. But by the time she got home, she chalked his odd behavior up to cultural differences, and she forgot about it.