Dear Readers,

Change of plans I am going to be changing the main pairing from Captain America x OC to Q x OC. I am going to be making this a coming out of the closet story for Captain America. I won't reveal his real (canon) love just yet. So for all of you who are against a gay Captain America, you were warned.

Anyway, just sit back, relax, and READ!

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Q POV

"May I ask for your name?" I questioned

"Silouette."

"Pretty name."

"Thanks."

"Is there any meaning there?"

"I wouldn't really know." She intoned dryly.

"Your parents won't tell you?"

Silouette glanced around the small café nervously. Her fingers twitched. Suddenly, she snatched up a napkin from the holder. Quickly wrapping her 2 untouched muffins in it and slipping them into her pocket. She hurriedly stood and leaned toward me.

"Not here." She hissed.

I jumped up as she strode out the door. Slipping my laptop into my bag and grabbing my tea, I rushed out after her.

Glancing around, I finally spotted her at the end of the street. Shades adorned her face and the hood of her coat was pulled down low over her eyes. She stood unnaturally still as she leaned up against the worn lamppost. Pulling my hood up, I briskly marched over to her. She continued to stare straight ahead as I approached, or as far as I could tell with the sunglasses.

"Walk with me." She said as she began to walk again.

I fell into step next to her. This girl was officially crazy, intriguing, but crazy.

"I haven't smiled, laughed, or even sung in six months. I don't talk to people unless I have to. That's why this is such an unusual event." She supplied.

"Why?" I asked bluntly.

"I like you. Very straight forward."

"Thank you. I pride myself for it."

"Have you ever heard of the Cedar Plague?"

"No, ma'am."

"Hmm. I suppose not. A small village in the Scottish Highlands. Completely remote. No one stood a chance." She mumbled

"This plague, it has no cure?"

"Only itself and death."

"Said village, everyone caught it?"

"My brother and I were the only ones who managed to avoid it."

"What happened to your family?"

"They were the last ones to catch it. It's a quick death. Most die within a hour of catchin' it." She spoke softly as though their ghosts were listening.

"What are the symptoms?"

"Most usually pass out at the start of the infection. They wake up about 20 minutes later. When they do wake, they say it's like your whole body goes numb, completely paralyzed. Only a few were able to talk during it. The rest is just like slowly driftin' to sleep." Her voice faded out.

I pondered this in silence as we walked along.

"Silouette, I called.

She turned to look at me.

"What happened to your brother?"

When she replied, her voice was constricted with unseen pain and grief.

"Towards the end of the epidemic, a doctor in town thought he had found a cure. My brother and I volunteered for his experiment. My brother had to drink this fluid, bathe in it and inhale a gaseous form of it. Mine was a little cruder. He strapped me into this rope harness and channeled a special form of plasma into it. I passed out during the initial -err- zap; I guess you'd call it. When I came to, my brother was wake and really pale. I walked over to see what he was looking at. While I'd been out the Cedar Plague had gotten to the doc. My brother, he kept twitching and jumping at everything. My big brother had never been skittish a day in his life. He said I looked funny, like something was there that hadn't been before. I asked him why he was so jumpy. He couldn't explain it.

We got scared and ran home. No one answered the door. We were too late. Every last one of 'em was gone. We had no reason to stay. We packed what we dared, buried them, and ran off. A few weeks after, I started to noticing weird things happening to me. He twitching and jumping had stopped, but my unique qualities were only getting worse. One day I just decided not to risk it, so I wrote my brother a letter while he slept and disappeared."

We continued to stroll down the dreary streets and I began to wonder whether or not I should introduce her to Bond. After a few minutes of silence, she and I started chatting casually. She gave off an obvious impression of fiery strength and *sigh* sarcasm. But never once did she laugh or smile. I wonder what she meant by sing. It was obviously important to her. I began to see many similarities between her and the notorious 007. Both were emotionally traumatized and scarred. Both using sarcasm and bitterness to cover it up and evade it. Both obviously not ready to give up working and stop fighting. Both also trapped in eternal youth. From her description of the incident, I can deduce that she won't age and neither will her brother. After that bio-bomb explosion in the Congo, that left Bond looking like he's 25 again, I doubt he will either. Lucky Bastard.

They're so alike it is impossible to tell whether they would be best friends or best enemies. Bond will think I'm a fool for trusting this mysteriously beautiful creature, but I can feel it in my bones, that she is telling the truth. She needs a friend and I'm willing to be it, even if I might want more.