Author's Note:

Hello fellow fangirls and fanboys!

My sincerest apologies for posting so late. My daughter was sick and needed some serious TLC. If anyone of you discover a cure for the common cold you'll make millions.

Fortunately our dear captain cannot catch cold so he could wait a week or so. Unfortunately i do not own Captain America, his superior healing powers, or anything else affiliated with the marvel universe. I also do not own anything that Elda is a fan of, including but not limited to Doctor Who.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I do enjoy hearing from you all. I do have time, now that the illness is over, to start another story. I have one in the world of Narnia. But I am open minded to a lot of fandoms. So if there is a story that you are particularly interested in reading, let me know and I'll see what I can do. I can pair almost anyone. Please PM me for ideas.

In the mean time let us return to Steve and Elda. I believe he was about to punch some one. •

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"Woah!" A young woman jumped back and raised her hands in defence of the flying fist. Her face was hardened in concentration. She looked quite different from her official S.H.I.E.L.D. identification photo but she was still recognizeable as Agent Griselda Wentworth.

"Captain Rogers?" Her eyebrow raised and she ran a hand through her short and spikey red, yellow, and black hair, "Is there a reason you're in my bedroom?" She should have looked startled at having a fist swung at her face or even angry at having her privacy invaded, but her pale lips were quirked in a grin and her blue eyes seemed to laugh at him as she relaxed her stance.

"Um, I was just, uh," He blushed slightly feeling like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Your room was painted..." He dropped his hands and searched for a way to explain himself.

"They painted your apartment?" She glared at the decore, "And apparently saw fit to move my belongings here. They have no sense of privacy and personal space. Mindless worker bees, the lot of them." She stepped around Steve through the door.

While she entered her room and pushed the window wider Steve took the opportunity to get a better look at her. She was pretty in a fierce way but that could have been attributed to her having hair like fire. Her posture was perfect and she carried herself with purpose. Her jeans and graphic tee gave her a casual appearance that softened the sharpness that she radiated.

"What is so important about a police box?" He gestured to the swirl of color on her shirt.

She looked down at her shirt and sneered at him. "Staring at my chest, Sleeping Beauty?" His face warmed in a blush, "It's a TARDIS. You know from Doctor Who...?" He shrugged and she rolled her eyes, "Alright, grandpa, you're telling me you've never heard of Doctor Who? The TV show?"

He shuffled under her condescension, "I haven't really gotten a chance to watch much television and what I have watched doesn't intrest me." He tried to shrug indifferently, "It seems to distract people from reality."

She smiled almost to herself, "That's kind of the point; not having to deal with our own issues. We don't have to think about how horrible reality is. TV shows and movies have happy endings. Life doesn't always." Her eyes seemed to droop and her shoulders sagged under an apparent bought of depression.

Steve stared at her. She was right and more than that she seemed to have a solid grip on her sanity.

"What?!" She snapped at him. He had accidentally thought out loud. "Why on earth would you think I'm crazy?" She glared up at him, "I'll have you know, Captain, that I am the most sane person you will ever meet."

He stepped back from her and lifted his arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, hoping to explain, but the door slammed in his face.

"Agent Wentworth?" Steve knocked on her door gently a few hours later. A grunt on the other side was his only answer so he pushed the door open, slowly. "Agent Wentworth, I was going to go get a burger. Would you like to go along?"

She was curled up on a large conforming cushion with an old leatherbound book in her lap. The smell of paint had mostly disapated and was replaced with a faint vanilla and mint. At the mention of food she dropped the book to the desk and straighten up. "Are we walking or driving?"

"I haven't seen much of the modern New York, how about we drive?" He would have prefered his motorcycle but she seemed like the type of girl who would hate sharing a seat.

"Sounds good. We'll take my car." She snatched a set of keys out of a fishbowl, grabbed his arm and started to drag him out the door and down to the parking garage.

She dropped his hand just inside the garage and turned to face him. "I owe you an apology for shouting and slamming your door." She lifted her hand to silence his protest. "I'm sure to someone as straight laced as you, my fashion and choices of decorations are wild and crazy. You probably thought that you were getting a lunatic. Please accept my explanation and forgive me."

Her big eyes pleaded with him with such sorrow that he couldn't help but nod. "There is no need to be sorry ma'am. Let's forget it ever happened." His graciousness was rewarded with the young woman's bright smile. Agent Wentworth turned away from him and nearly bounced through the garage.

"There she is." She pressed a button on her remote and a large black sedan roared to life. "2007 Cadillac. They don't normally have remote starters but Nic owed me a favor" She explained before he could ask. "She's pretty but not stuck up and she has a great personality." She motioned for him to sit 'shotgun'.

The interior was as different as the interior as possible. Purple seats were covered with red lace. All of the metal pieces were gold and the leather stearing wheel, arm rests, and panelling were blue with silver glitter. If the colors had been bright Steve would have become dizzy. But as the colors were dark jewel tones, he felt as if he had entered a palace. The seats were incredibly comfortable and soft symphony music played from the green glowing radio.

She had obviously put a lot of work into her vehicle. No wonder she was proud of it. She probably thought of it as a friend. "You talk as if it's a person." The words were out before he could stop them, he inwardly cringed at his implication that she was confusing reality and fiction.

He glanced at her but she was smiling and patting the dashboard, "If you treat your car like a baby, she'll take care of you for a long time. I even named her to help me remember to care for her. Snow White, meet the Magic Carpet." She buckled her seatbelt and pushed the car into gear. "So, where do you wanna get those burgers?"

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AN Well things seem to be going smoothly so far. Don't they? Don't forget to review.