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Here's Chapter 6 for you awesome people!

I didn't move as he whispered my old nickname. No one but my parents and my old neighbour, Ms. Carter ever called me that. Then why did he?

I had no idea who this man was, and I was fighting the urge to blush as he stared intently at my face. I was well aware that my permed red tinted hair was a mess, and my normal red lipstick was more than likely smudged. I groaned inwardly.

But this man didn't seem to see any of it. He looked at me like I was the most amazing, beautiful person in the world, and I could feel the heat off cheeks and I knew I was probably as red as my lipstick.

I glanced sideways at him again. He had dropped into the chair next to my bed, and exhaled slowly. He was still staring, but his eyes were sad. They looked old, too, much too old for his face. They looked like they had seen so much pain and suffering, that I could only imagine. And, considering the amount of pain I had been through, I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

He sighed again, and I turned my head, to get a proper look at him through my half closed lids. His eyes were still sad, his shoulders slouched in defeat. He looked like the weight of the world was crashing down onto his two well muscled shoulders. He looked so young, too young to have gone through any of the pain his body language was suggesting. Or maybe I was just looking into it too much. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said laughing softly yet sadly at the same time. "You looked like someone I knew."

I waited for him to continue. It sounded like he had been holding it in for quite a while.

"Her name was Peggy. Peggy Carter. She looked a lot like you, but she was around in the 40s, like me." He smiled. Either this guy was completely of his nut, or else he had and amazing time machine that had just transported him straight from 1940s America. I presumed the first.

"She was a handful of fire, she was. She saw me kissing another girl once, and she waited until I was trying shields with Howard, and when I asked her opinion, she picked up a gun and shot it at the shield until it clocked out and then she said, "Yes, I think it works." And walked out. Just like that. She was lovely though. The first woman I could hold a conversation with." He smiled and stared into space, seeing something I couldn't.

His voice was soothing and my head was screaming at me to give up and sleep. I let it win. I only heard random words after that. "Bucky," "World War 2," "Captain America," – I did a double take on the last one. From what I could gather from my semi conscious state, he had said he was Captain America. Captain America! Alex had piles of comic books on this guy back home in Vancouver. But I was too out of it to think about it anymore. I let sleep take me, still listening his war stories.

-x-

I woke with a start in a dark room to the sound of snoring. I shook my head a few times, trying to remember where I was. Then I remembered. I was still being held hostage by one half of the Avengers for my "silence". I looked to the chair that had occupied Steve the last time I was wake, my eyes adjusting to the dark, only to find it held an obviously tired Clint Barton; his head had lolled back and he was snoring loudly. I quickly scanned the room, looking for a door or any other sign of exit. My eyes fell upon a door at the far end of the room, not unlike the one Tony, Bruce, Clint, Natasha and Steve had all exited and/or entered. I couldn't find that door.

As quietly as I could I crept towards the door, careful not wake Clint. Thankfully, he was out for the count. I sprinted the last few meters to the door yanked it open and bolted inside, closing it softly and locking it. I gave a sigh of relief as my back slid down against the door. I looked around, the lights had come on as soon as I had entered, and it was empty. Empty of people. Not of furniture. I gave a gasp of amazement as I took in my surroundings. Most people would call this room a bathroom. I called it a palace. It was massive! For a bathroom at least. The bathtub alone was the size of several couches pushed together. I hugged my knees to my chest. It was cold in here, but there was no window, nothing that could help me escape. I suppose I had escaped Clint, so that was some comfort.

"Is there anything I can help you with, miss?" A posh British accent, very like how my own used to be before I mastered American, called out, its voice echoing off the walls. I nearly jumped out of my skin with shock.

"Please don't be alarmed, miss," the voice continued, "I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark's Artificial Intelligence, at your service, miss."

"You're a robot?"

"I would like to think I am more than just a robot, Miss Carter, but feel free to refer to me as you wish." The AI answered politely.

"Quit the formalities, JARVIS. Just call me Chrissie, and I'll call you..."

"Jarvis will suffice perfectly, mi-" he corrected himself, "Chrissie."

I smiled at his slip up.

"So, Chrissie, if you don't mind me asking," he was still incredibly formally even without calling me "miss," "aren't you're sleeping quarters in your room and not in this cold bathroom?" he questioned.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but, I, um-"

"I understand perfectly, Chrissie." And the tiles beside me on the wall slid back to reveal cushions and blankets. In amazement, I took them out.

"How did you-"

"I am extremely well prepared, Chrissie." Jarvis replied to my stuttering in a smooth voice. "I suggest you get some rest, you might want to be well rested for tomorrow."

Too tired to ask what was happening what was happening tomorrow, even though I knew he would still have probably answered my question anyway, I curled into a ball on top of one of the blankets. Jarvis dimmed the lights.

"Sleep well Chrissie," he whispered.

"Thanks Jarvis," I yawned as I drifted off to sleep.

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