A/N: Okay, first off, I'm so, so very sorry about keeping you guys waiting so long! Starting a story over winter break is a horrible idea, and I should have known that it would be impossible to keep up with it while balancing all my other responsibilities and projects. Lesson learned!
Second, I'd like to thank ErinKenobi2893 for the suggestion—I took it and ran with it. Without your idea, this chapter would have been very different, and probably not as interesting.
Onward ho!
As they wended their way through the crowd, Steve instinctively tried to turn his face so he'd be less recognizable. At every footstep he cringed, waiting to hear a shout of "Look—there he is!" and to be inundated by a seething crowd.
He told himself to relax, and reassured himself that he was in no danger of being recognized. 'Trust the tech', Stark had said to him, when he'd given Steve the Photostatic Veil.
Easy for him to say. He understands it. I have no idea what the stuff is half the time, let alone how to use it. I wish…I wish—
As always, though, he couldn't allow himself to finish the thought. It wasn't healthy, dwelling on the past, feeding his bitterness by yearning to change things that couldn't be changed. He was here and now, and he had to accept that.
The slap of tennis shoes on the floor behind him brought him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to see the girl—Andrea Blake, he remembered—trotting after him to keep up with his longer strides, with a look that was half excitement and half nerves on her face. Her poster was rolled up and stuck under her arm. Wisps of blonde hair escaped from under her baseball cap and straggled over her wide blue eyes, making her look younger, less sure of herself.
He found himself smiling a little as he looked at that hat. New York Giants—he'd been to one of their games, back in the day. Bucky had been the one to buy the tickets. Steve had protested, saying a football game wasn't worth wasting money on, but Bucky had just laughed him off. They'd ended up having a great time—something that had haunted Steve for years afterward. Every time he'd make a prediction, in all certainty that he was right, Bucky would simply grin and ask innocently, "Remember that football game?"
He felt his smile falter as his happiness turned to a painful stab of grief, like a knife twisting in his gut. Bucky. He missed Bucky.
"Hey, what's your name?" Andrea's question jolted him out of his thoughts.
"Mike Parker." That was the name on the badge, anyway.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder to see her nervously fingering the brim of her hat. Why was she nervous? His eyebrows drew together for a second, but then he kicked himself mentally as understanding suddenly dawned on him. Of course she was nervous—she was young, and female, and alone.
You're a damn idiot, Steve.
"Cap was thinking about meeting you somewhere less…crowded. Like a restaurant or something. SuperCon's a little loud for his taste."
Andrea snorted, a small smirk appearing on her face. "I don't go for crowds myself."
Even as she spoke a blush spread across her cheeks like wildfire, and she fell silent. Well. Looked like he had a shy one on his hands. He wondered, if she was so shy, why she'd stood in the middle of a sea of cheering people and held up an enormous sign for all to see. Kid must have something to prove.
His thoughts turned back to the sign's message: You saved my sister's life. Huh. When? How? Who was this sister, and why hadn't she come to meet him as well? He would have thought that if someone unknowingly saved your life, you'd at least want to tell them so in person.
"You still back there?" he asked.
God, his voice sounded weird. He'd never get used to the Photostatic Veil's voice disguise. Every time he spoke he felt the urge to look over his shoulder and try to spot the owner of the strange voice.
Use of the device was strictly off-limits to anyone outside of SHIELD's elite inner circle of agents, but since Stark had had a hand in developing it, he'd told Steve he should have a say in who got one. 'Never know when you're gonna need it,' he'd said. Steve doubted he'd have ever considered the possibility that it would be used for this particular escapade.
How was he going to pull this off, anyway? He hadn't really thought it out back in his dressing room—just donned a security uniform and stuck the Veil on his face. It hadn't crossed his mind how (or where) he was going to transform from security guard to Steve Rogers once they left the convention.
He was still thinking about it when they arrived outside, and waited for a taxi at the curb. Andrea glanced up at him, an expression of worry flashing across her face.
"Where are we going?"
"Cap wanted to meet you at a restaurant," Steve replied. "He said to let you pick which one, and I'll call him to tell him where to meet us."
Andrea's tight eyebrows smoothed, and she smiled—still tentative, but it was the first real smile she'd given him. "Well, there's this one noodle shop in Chinatown I like."
"Is it quiet?" he asked, already thinking of dozens upon dozens of people, all looking at him, pointing, talking…
"I guess." She shrugged. "It's pretty small."
When a taxi stopped for them, Steve had Andrea give the address of the noodle shop to the driver. As they wended through traffic, there was silence in the car, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. Steve had to smile to himself. He sure hadn't chosen a talker. This kid was as introverted as they came. He wondered just how much courage she had had to muster to hold up that sign. It wasn't like she'd been charging across a battlefield amid mortar fire, but still—he knew bravery when he saw it.
"So," he said finally, breaking the silence, "who's this sister Cap saved?"
"My older sister, Aimee," Andrea said. She reached up and started running her fingers through a lock of her hair. Nervous habit, probably.
"Why didn't she come?"
The hair-fussing intensified. "Personal reasons."
"Ah." He knew better than to push the matter further. From the way she said it, he thought he knew what 'personal reasons' meant.