Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: I've been absolutely overwhelmed by all the alerts, favourites and reviews I've got for this story – in just one night as well! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story, even from just the first chapter, so I hope this one doesn't disappoint. This is mostly a filler chapter, but I think it helps set the scene for some of the things that Dahlia has done for S.H.E.L.D (in a more domestic sense).
Hopefully this chapter has all 'S.H.I.E.L.D' typos corrected :)
Chapter Two
Dahlia leant back against the far wall of the gym that was hidden beneath S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and just watched. The man – apparently Steve Rogers, Captain America, who had been preserved in ice for the last seventy years, but she was yet to believe that – seemed unaware of her presence, completely focused on the steady stream of punches he was administering to a punching bag that hung on the right side of the room. A line of similar looking training equipment was set out to his right.
The punches were well placed and firm, his fists clenched tightly. She was sure if the punching bag was actually a human being, they would be whimpering, curled up into a protective ball, by now. The attacks increased in force, in speed, in numbers as if he were working out all the issues he had in one fail swoop. He hit the bag with more force that should have been possible for a human to build up, sending the bag flying off its hanger and sliding across the floor heavily. The small beads that tightly packed the punching bag leaked from the fist shaped wound. Dahlia arched an eyebrow – okay, so maybe this whole super serum story was true after all. The blond relaxed his arms to his side but still remained tense. He wiped the sweat from his forehead before reaching for another bag.
It was then that Dahlia decided to speak up.
"You know, they work better if you don't, you know, break them," she advised.
The blond turned around quickly, body crouching in a defensive position instinctively. His eyes narrowed at her slightly. "Who are you?"
"I'm Dahlia Griffiths, and you're Steve Rogers right?" she took a step forward.
"Yes, that would be me ma'am," he answered, eying her closely, "You work for Nick Fury?"
"I wouldn't say I work for him, no, but close enough I guess," Dahlia shrugged, "Either way, he asked for me to come down and see you; must have thought I'd be able to help you."
"Help me with that?" he snorted.
"Well, according to what Fury told me, it's been nearly two months since you were found and thawed out, and you've spent the whole time either working out here, or locked in your room," Dahlia started, "I don't have to be a psychologist to know that isn't normal behaviour."
"Maybe I like working out," Steve suggested shortly.
"Well, I like cookies and cream ice cream but I know too much of it isn't good for me," Dahlia retorted. She sighed slightly, "Look, I don't want to be rude. I can't begin to understand what it would be like to one minute be in the 1940s and then the next, be in a completely different world and told it's 2011. Anyone would have a hard time adjusting to that kind of change. But the fact is, you're stuck here and you're going to have to get used to the changes in the world one way or another."
"I don't want to get back out into the world," Steve replied sharply. He continued in a low voice, "I can't…"
Dahlia raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, I'm not going to force you."
He looked surprised. "Really?"
"Yup, it's your decision, I can't force you to do anything – I mean, look at you," she gestured at his physique. "But I still don't think it's healthy to be stuck down here all the time, especially not by yourself. It must get lonely."
Steve shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine, really."
"Nope, I've decided. I'm going to visit you," Dahlia announced with a bright smile.
Steve blinked. "Um, what?"
"I'm going to visit you," she repeated slowly, "I don't have much to do these days anyway and I've been asked to spend some time with you anyway. I'll having Fury off my back and you'll have something better to do than punching massive hand shaped holes into unsuspecting punching bags." She hesitated, her confident demeanour dropping as fast as it appeared, "I mean, as long as that's okay with you. I don't want to intrude or anything."
"No," Steve spoke quickly, taking a step closer to her, "I mean, no, its fine. I, um, well; I would appreciate someone other than Fury to talk to. The man's not one for conversation."
Dahlia laughed. "Now that's an understatement." She sat down on the edge of a wooden bench. Her hands clasped the seat and she leant forward on them eagerly. "So, tell me about America in the 40s."
Dahlia dozed in the helicarrier, only managing to catch winks here and there. It was a relatively smooth ride but being strapped upright in a seat wasn't exactly the most comfortable of positions to try and sleep in. Either way, she was grateful to the agents onboard for keeping the noise down to a minimum, although she was sure that was probably to do with Coulson rather than a goodwill gesture. It wasn't much but it helped.
One time, as she faded from sleep, she found a cover wrapped around her shoulders. She made a confused noise at the back of her throat, too tired to form coherent sentences. She lifted her arms, which felt like lead, to examine the soft fabric that surrounded her. A hand rested on her crown, a thumb brushing comfortingly across her forehead, and she smiled sleepily at the familiar feeling.
"Go back to sleep, Dahlia," the voice whispered soothingly, "You look like you need it."
She made another noise, this time of agreement, before the darkness of the dream world claimed her once more.
Dahlia smiled softly, eyes drooped, as she remained curled up on the sofa in S.H.I.E.L.D's rec room and watched Steve's reactions. Despite his reluctance at first to experience the 21st century, he had been amazed and eager to learn more about the future. She was starting small and building up slowly, as to not overload him with more information than he could handle, which was why she had decided a Disney movie day was a good place to start.
It was something light hearted, nothing too shocking in any of those stories, and was a right of passage for every child in the modern era – at least in Dahlia's opinion. And she had enjoyed watching them with him, enjoyed that she was showing him something new. She liked reminiscing about the times when she had watched these for the first time, with his sister, and Steve seemed just as interested in those memories as he did the actual movies.
But still, she was knackered. She felt like she hadn't slept in days and she could feel her eyes beginning to flutter closed during Aladdin and Jasmine's big duet number. She tried to stay awake, she really did, but the combination of the soft pillow beneath her head and warmth of the cover she had wrapped around herself (because apparently S.H.I.E.L.D couldn't afford to keep the central heating on all night) was too much for her. Her breathing evened out and her body relaxed as she fell into a slumber.
Steve glanced away from the television screen, intending to ask by Jasmine doesn't seem so surprised about ending up in China (because, as far as he remembers, the distance between the Arabian Desert and China seemed pretty far to him, even if you were riding on a magic carpet), but stopped himself as soon as he realised his friend had fallen asleep.
Because that's what she was, his friend. He hadn't intended for that to happen. In fact, since he'd woken up in the 21st century, he'd pretty much resigned himself to the knowledge that everyone he knew was long gone and he would spend the rest of his life in S.H.I.E.L.D's custody, but of course, Fury couldn't let him suffer alone. He had to send someone to try and coax him out of his "man-cave", as Dahlia called.
He was grateful to her, because she seemed to be the first one that was more interested in what he wanted, about how much he wanted to know about the world now. He was glad she had convinced him out of the gym and into the rec room; glad that she showed him history books about the war he had been fighting in, and brought him new gadgets to try and work out (he especially liked the Xbox 360 she had shown him a few weeks ago).
Dahlia snuffled in her sleep, and tried to close the distance between her body and the back of the sofa. Smiling fondly, he reached out to place a hand on the top of her head – like he remembered Bucky doing to him all those years ago – and brushed a strand of her fringe out of her closed eyes. She made a strange noise at the feeling, her face screwing up slightly with confusion.
"Sleep Dahlia," he mumbled as soothingly as he could manage, "You look like you need it."
A/N: This is more of a chapter to show the close relationship that had built between Dahlia and Steve – I'll probably show more of this later, but because their relationship is kind of important in this story, I thought I'd share.
Next chapter: landing on the S.H.E.L.D aircraft base and Dahlia meets Dr. Bruce for the first time. And because you've encouraged me, chapter 3 with be posted right on the heels of this one!
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