This chapter is actually getting uploaded earlier. The thing is that I'll try to get a chapter up on Sunday, but if I get them done before that I'll upload them then. Doesn't really make sense to just let it sit on my computer for another couple of days. If I get chapter nine done by Sunday (which I sort of doubt, but who knows) I'll upload it then, but if not… well, enjoy early chapter.

What I find kind of amusing though is that this chapter is over 11K words, and is 20 pages, and this story was supposed to have shorter chapters than the others, because it was supposed to basically just be an introduction story.

Oh well… I'm not complaining. See the end for an author's note with slight spoilers for this chapter, and a sort of contest? Thing? (I don't actually know)

As per usual I own nothing. Thank you all for favoriting/following (over 1K hits aaaaaah) and please, please, PLEASE review. I feed off of feedback. (Pun not intended, but totally awesome)

Adara.

Chapter Eight:

1941, Location: Brooklyn, NY

The night he had gotten accepted into the Army, Steve remembered running home clutching the sheet of paper to his chest. He also remembered leaning against the door of the apartment he shared with Bucky wheezing as his lungs told him exactly how stupid he was for running.

And then, sitting on the bed and staring at the slip of paper that basically contained his future, he wondered how in the hell he was going to explain this to Bucky.

The answer to that was that he wasn't. Bucky would more than kick his ass if he found out that Steve had finally gotten accepted into the Army. And with his best friend shipping out bright and early first thing tomorrow morning, that wasn't how Steve wanted to say goodbye. Because if—God forbid—something were to happen to Bucky overseas, their last conversation wasn't going to be a fight about him.

Bucky wasn't home, not that Steve even slightly expected him to be, because it was his last night in the city and there were two girls that had wanted to go dancing with Sergeant Barnes and heaven forbid he disappoint two lovely ladies. So instead of waiting, and havening to worry about Bucky seeing through his lie, Steve decided that it would be best if he just tried to get some sleep. Not that he'd be able to get much because every time his eyes drifted to the folded up piece of paper grasped tightly in his clammy hand his heart would start that nervous/excited flutter all over again.

But at least he could pretend, and then when Bucky did finally climb up that rickety fire escape and jimmy open the window that Steve almost always left just cracked open for his friend, he might actually have drifted off into a restful state. And if not Steve would just make himself as still as humanly possible and hope for the miracle that was Bucky Barnes too tired to notice the difference.

Steve hid the piece of paper in-between a few blank sheets of his sketchbook, tucking it back into place on his nightstand before getting ready for the night. The sheets were cold from the day; the weather was still rather mild and there was no point wasting money on the heat if it wasn't cold. Steve pulled them up over his boney shoulders, a shiver running down his spine. Whether it was from the temperature or his own tumultuous emotions he couldn't tell, but in all honesty he suspected it was a combination of the two.

Furtively his eyes found the sketchbook, knowing that the sheet of paper was protected safely inside. He could imagine it almost perfectly, the 1A stamped clearly in the corner, done by the precise hand of someone who had dedicated their life to the precision and toil of scientific work. Part of him wanted to clutch it into his heart, to keep his eyes on it at all times to make sure that it was real and that it wasn't just some figment conjured up by his desperation.

But it was real, and he had made it! He just… there was absolutely no way he could tell Bucky.

His friend had the decency not to admit it, but Steve knew Bucky didn't actually think he'd make it long in the Army. Between the weak heart, the bad lungs, impaired vision and hearing… hell, there was a whole laundry list of reasons why Steve Rogers shouldn't have made it past six, let alone into the military. And whenever he'd start talking about enlisting, insisting in that bull-headed, stubborn-stupid way of his that he could make it, Bucky would just get this quietly pained look on his face.

Almost two decades of taking care of someone created habits that were hard to break.

That was why, a couple hours later, when Bucky did end up climbing that rattling fire escape and slid the door open, Steve lay in bed as still as possible. He didn't respond when his friend shook his shoulder gently, pretended to be asleep as Bucky told him in drunken snippets about his night, even though his hearing was as honed as it had ever been and his senses were on red alert.

Because he and Bucky had gotten really good at dancing around each other. And sometimes a lie was better than the truth.

IOI

September 06, 2011, Location: 19th Street, Brooklyn NY

Two things woke Steve up that night, both moving slightly in tandem. One was Chauncey pawing and barking anxiously at his door, which was odd because typically the dog slept with his owner in her bed. But as the dog's insistent barks drew him out of his sleep Steve became aware of another sound, one that created greater cause for alarm.

The smoke detector was going off.

Steve sat up quickly in bed, shoving the covers off and jerking to his feet. The closer he got to the door, the stronger the smell of smoke was and Steve pressed the back of his hand hesitantly against the panel of the door. It was cool—relatively—prompting him to grab the door handle and jerk it open. The apartment itself was swathed in darkness, unsurprising at this late hour, except for the smoke trickling thickly out from beneath Nicole's door. The hall glowed in orange light that spilled out from the crack and this time when Steve tested the wood it was hot to the touch.

Chauncey whined nervously, running back and forth from Nicole's door to the entrance of the apartment.

There was a sharp crack of someone beating at the door of the apartment just moments before it flew open. A man came rushing in, wavy reddish-brown hair looking barely combed through as he zeroed in on where Steve was standing. "Captain Rogers, what's the situation? I heard the alarm going off on my way out."

The first thing that Steve wanted to know was what kind of person was on their way out at three in the morning?

"The fire's in Nicole's room, the handle is too hot to touch." Which was the precursor to the red haired agent slamming his booted foot so hard into the door that it splintered the hinges.

The wall of smoke that came after had the blonde shielding his face, peering into the room. The fire spread from the bed to the desk and window, singing the drapes and leaving soot trails to blacken the walls.

Steve rushed in fearing the worst, prepared to grab Nicole and carry her out of the room into the fresh air before she burned or suffocated. Except… the fire had almost completely engulfed the bed and it was—Nicole was swathed in flames and none of it was burning her!

Her sleeping face looked heartbroken, terrified, but unharmed.

"Nicole!" Steve had no idea what was going on, no idea how or why it looked like the fire was coming out of her body, or how she was still asleep, but he would figure it out later when their apartment wasn't in danger of burning down.

"Move Cap!" The man came shoving past, a pot full of water in his hands. Steve watched in surprise as the agent tossed the water on his friend, the effect instantaneous.

There was a hiss of steam as the liquid almost instantly evaporated, followed by a startled shriek of pain and surprise as Nicole sat bolt up in bed. Her eyes sprang open with a flash, wild and unaware and zipping back and forth like lightning, before they suddenly widened in horror.

"Putain!" As soon as the word was out of her mouth the fire all just… disappeared.

The red haired—red hair?—woman was left dripping wet and panting in her bed as she stared at her knees, completely unresponsive to the two men in her room. Steve wanted to check on his friend, to demand an answer to what in the actual hell that was, but the presence of a complete stranger had him guarded. So instead the blonde positioned himself so that he was partially blocking Nicole from view as he regarded the man. "Thanks for that, I guess."

The man shrugged, pot hanging limply in his fingers. "I'm agent Cameron Klein, I live just down the hall. I heard the ruckus, and responded. Coulson's already been called and he's sending a vehicle to take Dugan down to the bank for a medical examination and debriefing."

Klein looked between Steve's tense posture and where Nicole was still sitting on the ruined bed, her clothes singed and patchy but otherwise whole before easing back towards the door. "I'll just go… deal with the others."

Steve watched the red haired man depart before turning to his friend, worry evident in his eyes. It was impossible; she had physically been on fire and yet she was absolutely fine. Physically at least; if the expression on her face was anything to go by, Nicole was very definitely not okay right now.

He had a lot of questions. What had happened? How had it happened? Why wasn't Nicole hurt? Whether she was going to be alright? And how had her hair gone from short cropped and purple to elbow length and red in less than eight hours?

Questions that would have to wait because her boss wanted them at the Bank for medical examinations and hopefully they would be able to make since of what had happened. First thing was first, he needed to get her out of the remains of her bed before it gave way and she got hurt.

"Come here." He offered softly, hand gently going out to touch her shoulder. Nicole gave a startled jerk at that, eyes lifting up to him and burning orange—another thing to deal with later—before she visibly swallowed and swiped at her cheek. The movement left a trail of soot, interrupting the tears that had started to create tracks down her face. Her entire body was tightly curled up, muscles shaking to the point where Steve wasn't entirely sure she could willingly unbind them and after a half a second of deliberation he knelt down and carefully fitted her arms around her.

Nicole was heavier than he had been expecting, though he suspected it had something to do with her being almost completely dead weight at this point. Still, for someone who had lifted up a motorcycle with three fully grown women on it, her body wasn't too difficult to carry to his room. Chauncey followed behind on his heels, eyes trained on them intensely and ears perked forward. Nicole barely moved as Steve set her down on his bed, not even registering that her dog had jumped up beside her as he went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Steve wasn't sure if any of her clothes had survived—the fire hadn't looked like it'd spread to the dresser yet—but he figured it would be better if she had something whole to wear.

Had the fire department been called?

It was a SHIELD building, Fury had told him that right off the bat, and as far as he was aware there had been no outward indications of damage. The window hadn't shattered though the glass was definitely blackened. And there were no sirens to be heard in the night… was it possible that SHIELD already had this entire situation under wraps? Of all the impossible things he'd seen tonight, Steve was willing to believe it.

He turned back to his friend, still clutching her knees numbly and silently crying. There had been no disguising the tremors that wracked her body as he'd carried her, or the way her lower lip was quivering and this was honestly a side of Nicole that he had never seen before. She was traumatized and terrified, and he'd caught glimpses of it beneath her mask over the past couple of weeks but now the mask was completely shattered.

Not for the first time since waking up in the year 2011, Steve wished that Bucky was here. Because Bucky had always been the one that could make a crying girl smile just by saying the right things while Steve stood there awkwardly. And it was hard to comfort his friend when he had no idea what was wrong, just that whatever it was it was deep and painful and cutting deep inside of her.

"Nicole?" His use of her name was gentle, curious as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, and it seemed to reach her on some level because she was looking at him again and her eyes were kind of focused on his face.

"Agent Klein said a car is on its way to take us down to the Bank." He informed her, still using the same soothing tone. "Do you want to change before they get here?"

Nicole looked from the clothes in his hands and back to his face, breath leaving her lips in a haggard gasp. She seemed to be pulling herself together, the expression on her face tightening and hardening as her body slowly relaxed. "Yeah. Uh… thanks."

Her movements were slow and jerky, legs moving as though they were rusted and old as she pushed onto her feet and took the clothes from his hands. She paused then, indecisive and unsure before turning towards the bathroom. Waiting long enough to give her dog a reassuring pat on the head Nicole disappeared behind the closed door of the bathroom. He heard her moving around inside as he sank into the spot that had just been vacated, reaching out tiredly to pet Chauncey. He whined softly, head dropping onto Steve's leg with a groan.

Steve was… well, exhausted was putting it kindly. His entire body was high strung and tense, his mind processing everything a mile a minute and yet he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep. Not that he'd be able to with the acrid stench of smoke still clinging to the apartment, or the unanswered questions ricocheting back and forth in his brain. So sleep would have to wait.

Instead he found himself moving back into the wreckage that was Nicole's room. Looking past the smoke and heat damage that painted menacing pictures on her walls and ceiling, he was able to start taking inventory on everything that had been lost. Her bed was completely gone, all fabric burned away so that all that remained was the metal frame and the blackened springs. The nightstand next to it was in little better condition, a fragment of a picture and the hollowed out shell of her alarm clock almost perfectly in place.

The only other piece of furniture that really was affected was her desk; the books stacked messily and crumbling into ash, as well as all of the papers she'd shoved out of her way. There were ceramic and glass bowls cracked and shattered from the heat, pens melted to the surface and her computer… the plastic case and screen had started bubbling and blistering to the point where Steve highly doubted that there was any way to salvage it. Other than that, however, her closet was relatively unscathed, as was her dresser.

"Fuck." Steve looked over his shoulder at that word, muttered in disappointment as Nicole came up behind him. Her eyes seemed far too old for her face, scanning the corners of her room with a bone deep weariness.

The woman looked small in his clothes, they seemed to be swallowing her whole, and Steve had never seen his friend look so frail before. And to the blonde that seemed wrong; Nicole was always vibrant, larger than life, even when she was angry or upset. Now she just seemed half her size and for the life of him Steve couldn't figure out how to help, how to make it better.

"It… could have been worse." He offered, the words falling flat from his lips.

Nicole made a small humming noise in the back of her throat, gaze distant and far away as she drifted over to her desk. Steve watched as, with very gentle fingers, she slid open the top desk drawer and rifled around inside. The interior contents seemed to have fared far better than anything else, they were probably salvageable, but Nicole only seemed interested in one thing. Of all the things he could have imagined her taking out of her desk, a smudged bracelet wasn't one of them. It looked to be made out of bronze, inlaid with red stones and teased and twisted with dizzying swirling patterns. It was a lovely piece of craftsmanship and when she slid her hand through the center to secure it on her wrist, the stones seemed to glow briefly.

Steve heard the footsteps long before Agent Klein hesitantly knocked on the door. Both of them turned to look at the man, who was casually gesturing to the doorway as though nothing was out of the ordinary. "Car's waiting downstairs to take you to the Bank."

Nicole nodded, brushing past both of them and operating completely on autopilot as she grabbed her coat and pulled it on. Chauncey followed behind dutifully, aware of the somber mood to the point where he didn't try and take advantage of the fact that he wasn't being leashed. Steve watched her go, every muscle in his body tensed to follow but… there were questions that he needed answers to first.

"Look, Agent, thanks for that." He shrugged, thinking back to the way that Klein had seemed to know exactly what to do.

Klein shook his head, fingers making an attempt to smooth his hair back. "No problem, Cap. It's been quite some time since we've had an incident like this with Dugan."

"This has happened before?" Steve asked anxiously, pinning the man with an intent look.

Klein shifted under his regard, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It has yeah. Not very often, she's usually got a pretty tight cap on her abilities but—look, with all due respect, this isn't my tale to tell and I do have to get going. You want any more information you're going to have to take it up with Coulson, or Nicole herself."

The man shifted for the door, not even slightly surprised when Steve followed. "SHIELD will have a team out first thing in the morning to start cleaning up the damage done here. Dugan will probably end up staying at the Bank under observation until she gets the all clear. The car's still waiting if you want to ride over with her. I'm sure Coulson will want to debrief you as well."

The soldier took over in him and he nodded briskly, pulling on his own coat and a pair of boots. By the time that Steve made it down to the car waiting outside of the building, Nicole was half way through a cigarette with Chauncey on her lap. The redhead was looking out the window with an unseeing expression that he easily recognized. Her body may be in the present, but her brain had checked out a while ago. If it had ever really checked in after the nightmare she'd been having.

She didn't respond when he sat down beside her, flicking the ashes off of the glowing end of her cigarette. The man in the front seat, sandy haired and dressed in a tactical suit, pulled out onto the street proper as soon as the door was shut, his eyes locked straight forward and his face completely serious. Steve hadn't seen him around before, either in the apartment building or at the Bank, and yet the man gave the impression that he had been through a lot.

"You know," The driver drawled absently into the silent car. "Smoking is bad for you, Dugan."

"Fuck off, Barton." The woman replied easily, though she did flick the butt out the window. Smoking had always been the societal norm to Steve; even if he didn't do it for health reasons, just about everyone else did. Even Bucky would typically be found out on the fire escape enjoying a smoke more often than not. Of course he'd done it outside out of consideration for Steve's lungs, but there was never any real escape from the thick clouds that hung in just about every bar and building.

It had seemed to have fallen out of popularity since then, but this was the first time that—other than a few commercials on the television—Steve had ever actually heard that it was bad.

Every time Nicole had lit one of her cigarettes, Steve had just shrugged it off assuming it was still common. Evidently, according to Barton, such was no longer the case.

He pondered that briefly, in the way that outside stimuli can become an almost absurd distraction in the face of a crisis, as they drove in silence. Periodically Nicole would clench her hands into fists, or clasp them together tightly, but she never made a noise. She had managed to scrub the soot off of her face, but her eyes were still darkly bruised and red rimmed.

The Bank was remarkably quiet when they pulled up, not to the parking area or the front but rather the back door, and for some reason Steve had expected there to be a team waiting outside to do… something. Anything. He wasn't sure, but to him it seemed like more of a response was needed when a woman had physically been on fire without being burned.

But for the few people that actually were still in the facility that late at night however, it was business as usual. Barton didn't even bother getting out, as soon as they'd gotten clear of the vehicle he was on his phone and speeding off again. A few people looked up as they stepped through the back entrance, doing a quick double take here or there, but for the most part they just went about their work.

Nicole ignored them, she ignored everyone as she clutched her dog to her chest and walked along the back wall. Chauncey was much more active than before, ears swiveling and perking as he looked back and forth. A man was waiting for them, the man that Steve could only place as Nicole's supervisor, Coulson.

He was dressed almost pristinely in a suit, not a wrinkle or stray crease to be found. His brown hair was parted in a straight, off center line, and though his face looked like it was almost serene. There was no mistaking the concern in his gaze when he noticed the agent approaching, his hand reaching out to close comfortingly on her shoulder.

"We've got Dr. Maurer waiting downstairs." He offered reassuringly, his voice low as the man drew the woman down the hall.

Nicole nodded numbly, looking up at her SO and biting her lip. "Phil, shit, I'm really sorry. I thought I had it handled, but I was having a nightmare about—"

Coulson cut her off swiftly, the unspoken words peaking Steve's curiosity. He followed a few steps behind the two, absolutely quiet with his hands in the pockets of his coat and listening in very closely.

"I'll expect a full debrief as soon as you get taken care of by Maurer. Dr. Cross wants to talk to you too, she's waiting with him." Coulson looked briefly up at the elevator when it opened, blue eyes narrowing on the few individuals that were standing inside. They quickly left under his scrutiny. "The insurance will easily handle any personal losses as well."

"Thank you." It was a short ride, the silence broken only by a few shuddering gasps from the redheaded woman as they approached the medical floor.

When the elevator doors slid open, the response was more of what he was expecting. Dr. Maurer, with his green eyes and thinning grey hair, hurried over to them. Any uncertainty that the man might have exhibited the first time Steve had met him was long gone now, replaced by an aura of assurance and calm that the blonde wished more doctors had possessed. Quick hands had Chauncey out of his owner's grasp and pressed carefully into Steve's, and then Nicole was whisked away.

"Right this way, dear. It's going to be quite alright, I'm just going to run some standard tests." He offered her, giving an almost play by play of what was about to happen as Nicole was led to a closed off room.

Steve was suddenly left alone with Coulson, the man stealing glances over at him and trying to be very inconspicuous about it. He remembered Nicole mentioning that Coulson was a huge fan of his, and even though the agent was outwardly acting incredibly professional, Steve could practically feel the excitement threatening to burst free.

"So…" Steve began, making a preemptive attempt to steer the conversation to the events of the night.

"Hm?" Coulson cleared his throat, eyes widening slightly before he quickly schooled his features. "Ah, right. If I could get your account of what happened? I am aware that Agent Klein was the first to respond on the scene."

They ended up moving somewhere more private, an empty office that Steve suspected belonged to Maurer as he began a succinct summary of what happened. He started with being woken up by Chauncey—who was sniffing everything and anything he could reach since being set down—to Klein bursting in and kicking open the door.

"Now, look. I know that the smoke was pretty thick and everything but I know what I saw sir." His brows furrowed into a sharp v. "Nicole was on fire. Her bed is little more than the frame and the springs, but she's absolutely fine. Never mind the fact that as soon as she woke up it all disappeared, or the fact that her eyes were orange and her hair is now longer and a completely different color."

"What is going on?" Steve pinned Coulson with an intense glare, falling almost completely into his Captain America persona. It fit comfortably, like an old jacket, and it had been a long time since he'd used that tone of voice.

For his part, Coulson only looked mildly impressed and not at all intimidated. He took the time to flip off his audial recorder, tucking it into his pocket before looking back up at him. "What has Nicole told you about her reasons for joining SHIELD, Captain?"

His frown turned even sourer at that, expression even more foreboding. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Coulson had an infinitely patient look on his face, leaning back against the desk with a stack of files in his hands. "Humor me, Sir."

"Well," Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She said it was because of her grandfather, following in Dum Dum's footsteps."

A fleeting smile passed over Coulson's face at that answer, and his blue eyes shone with barely masked amusement. "That is part of it yes. When she was six years old, Nicole was involved in an… incident at her elementary school. There was a fire at her school, it started in the boiler room where she was hiding, and Nicole walked out from the flames almost completely unscathed."

His eyes widened in surprise at that, attention fully on the agent.

"We're still not entirely sure what happened, or how, but after that… well, Nicole developed certain abilities. Mutations in her genetic makeup that affect her cellular structure. Made the cells fireproof. I've seen something similar to it in one other case, but not nearly to the strength of Nicole. She's completely fire-proof and heat resistant, generally stronger and hardier than most humans." Which explained why she had been able to hold her own when they fought and he had stopped holding back.

Coulson stood up. "But what's really phenomenal is the fact that she can physically manipulate fire. Conjure it, control it, with her mind and sometimes subconsciously. We haven't figured out how, or why yet, but when she uses her abilities it changes her eyes to the orange you described. SHIELD became interested, and while we wanted to recruit her into Science and Technology—she's more than capable as a biochemist—she decided to go into Ops to follow in Dum Dum's legacy."

Steve was speechless. His first instinct was to call Coulson a liar, because what he was describing sounded downright impossible. But then so were most of the things he'd seen tonight.

So was the idea of a rail thin, asthmatic kid who was colorblind, partially deaf and sporting a laundry list of other medical issues from the 1930's being a super soldier living seventy years later.

He found himself much more accepting of the impossible since meeting Abraham Erskine.

"So, that's why tonight happened the way it did?" He asked the man instead, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes absently landed on the dog that was leaning against his leg.

Before Coulson could get the opportunity to answer, his phone rang. The tone was a few chirps, strictly professional, and the man pressed a finger to the device in his ear. "Coulson, go ahead."

"She's in a stable condition, shaken up but otherwise fine. Laura is finishing up with her if you want to come on in." Steve heard Dr. Maurer's voice as though the man was with them in the room. Not that he was supposed to over hear the conversation, but it was a little hard not to with the improvements that had been made to his body.

"Thanks, Liam." Coulson nodded. "We're on our way."

As he disconnected the call, Steve found himself on the receiving end of those sharp blue eyes. "I can only tell you the science of what happened Captain. If you want the reason why, you'll have to ask her yourself."

Coulson gestured towards the door, allowing Steve to exit first as he followed behind. They retraced their steps to the room Nicole had been led to. As soon as he realized where they were heading, Chauncey slipped past the two men by dodging between their legs. Coulson looked down and grimaced at the orange hairs that now stood out against the crisp black of his suit, looking like he would prefer nothing more than to pick each one off with tweezers. Chauncey ran through the cracked door, launching himself right onto the tall bed.

It was surprising; for a creature with such short legs, he sure could jump high.

They paused just outside the door; from their vantage point Steve could see Nicole sitting up in the bed, legs crossed and her hands resting meditatively on her knees. Dr. Cross was sitting in the chair beside her bed, one arm braced soothingly against the woman's shoulder and the other resting just in front of her lap. They appeared deep in conversation as Nicole absently dragged her fingers through her dog's fur but her expression seemed more focused.

He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but after a few more seconds Nicole cracked a thin smile and shook her head. Dr. Cross laughed softly then, reaching out to pet the dog who was absolutely soaking up the attention before pushing to her feet.

"I'll see you on Thursday." The psychologist assured the redhead, turning to the door. She paused just outside the door where they were waiting, drawing her hand down her face.

"So?" Coulson prompted, earning a tired smile from the doctor.

"She feels bad about what happened—unsurprisingly—and it was definitely a flashback to the incident at her elementary school. We're doing a follow-up meeting on Thursday, but I think she's going to be alright." Dr. Cross adjusted her glasses, smiling at Steve. "Captain Rogers."

He nodded at her politely. "Doc."

Coulson cleared his throat once more, drawing their attention back to him. "I'll need your full report by five tomorrow."

Steve watched as the woman gave a thumbs up, already pushing the door open all the way and heading inside as she left. He was surprised to find Nicole watching them both, a distinctly unimpressed look on her face as they both walked in. "You know I could hear you perfectly, right?"

"Do you want to run me through what happened?" The recorder was out once more, pointed to the woman who took a deep breath. Her report was much more in-depth than his, no doubt because she had more insight as to the how's and whys. Steve tried not to listen when Nicole began describing her dream, he tried not to hear the way her voice shook, but it was impossible to tune it out.

Agent Coulson listened silently, asking a few questions when he needed further elaboration but for the most part they went through her debriefing in a quick, efficient manner. She had done this before, and it showed in the methodical way that the words came out of her mouth. Nicole was disassociating herself from what the events; he recognized the tactic because he'd used it before.

"Alright," Coulson sighed, flipping off the device. "I have everything I need. There's an open bunk waiting for you, and I'll have a crew out first thing in the morning. You still planning to go to DC?"

"We don't have to, if you're not up to it." Steve interjected hurriedly, looking at his friend. Nicole lifted her shoulders in a shrug, rubbing Chauncey's belly.

"Might as well; the hotel is already booked and paid for, and we have the appointment. It's not like we have a reason not to." She answered honestly.

Coulson clicked his tongue at her answer, checking something in his file. "Alright. I'll get this report typed up and ready for Fury tomorrow. Just get some rest, Nicole."

"Phil," He stopped at the doorway, "I'm sorry for making you get up at this ungodly hour. I know I fucked up."

The older man gave her a warm smile, and it would be impossible for Steve to miss the way those blue eyes flicked up to him. "It's not a problem. Just get some rest."

With that it was just the two of them—three if the dog was included—and Steve looked over at his friend. "So… do you want to talk about what happened, or do you just want to head to bed?"

"I kind of just want to head to bed," Nicole sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "But you deserve to know what happened. What did Phil tell you?"

"Just the basics; there was an accident at your school and that was how they discovered you had some sort of special cells that kept you from getting burned. That it allows you to control fire?" He eased himself into the chair that had just recently been vacated by Dr. Cross, resting his hands on the arms. Steve did his hardest to try and appear as small and unimposing as he used to be able to, folding himself up in the chair and watching her carefully.

Nicole snorted bitterly at that, her eyes troubled as she focused entirely on her pet. "Kids can be cruel, Steve. Very cruel. I didn't have a dad when I was that age, and you'd think that it wouldn't be that big of a deal but… when you're different, it wasn't good. Suffice it to say, I was pretty heavily bullied and I tried to stand up for myself."

Her words were laced with something dark, something pained, and something so personal that Steve found he had to look away for a moment. "When I was six, well first grade sucked. I was waiting for my grandpa to pick me up, he always picked me up on Fridays, and it was the same three… they chased me down to the boiler room and I just remembered that I was so tired of being hurt, so tired of being scared. I just wanted it to stop. Everything got hot, and it kept getting hotter and the next thing I knew I was being thrown up against the wall after a loud boom."

"People died, Steve." The tears were falling down her cheeks again, and she hastily tried to wipe them away. "A child died and it was my fault. The other two, they had burns all over their bodies, they were hospitalized for months because of me. That was how I discovered what I could do; by killing a kid."

His heart tugged painfully in his chest at the pure agony in those words; twenty years of guilt compounded in one single moment. It was something he could relate to, because it was the same sort of guilt he'd been carrying ever since he'd lost Bucky.

"I will never forgive myself for that. Or for the fact that because of me my mother had to quit her job and move across the country. Everyone keeps telling me it was an accident, I know that I had no control over what happened, but it still hurts." She gestured weakly. "Anyway, after that I was sent to the Quarry—down in Georgia—and that's where I learned how to control my abilities. What happened tonight, I haven't done anything like that in over a decade, okay? I had a nightmare about that day though, it's what's been bothering me for these past couple of weeks, and I guess it just got out of control."

"It won't happen again, I promise you that Steve. And I'm so fucking sorry that you had to witness that. You probably think that you got stuck with the mentally unstable one and—"

"Don't." He growled, interrupting her as he stood from his chair. A set of startled brown eyes flew up to his face, the woman's mouth gaping open. "You do not have to apologize for that, and I absolutely do not think any less of you. Nicole, you are my friend and what you went through as a kid was horribly and traumatic."

He settled on the edge of her bed, gripping her hand. "You're allowed to have bad days, and fuck anyone who tells you differently, okay? Granted, the spontaneous combustion is new for me, but after what you went through… I understand. And you've been there for me during this entire experience; like I said, the road goes both ways."

He might not have known what to do before, but moving almost on instinct Steve pulled the redhead into a tight hug. Just like when he'd told her about when he'd met Bucky and she'd practically launched herself at him like a cannon ball of comfort.

Nicole immediately relaxed into the embrace, her arms locking around his back and gripping tightly as she hid her face in his shoulder. "Thanks, blondie."

They stayed like that for a little while, until Nicole pulled back and reached into her pocket to check her phone. It was already pushing daybreak, and they would need to hit the road before too long if they wanted to make it to their appointment on time. "Are you sure you don't want to reschedule?"

She shook her head, pushing onto her feet with bravado as she dragged her hand down her face. "On such short notice? I can't guarantee when we'll get in for another appointment. It's only a four hour drive, let me get a quick nap and a cup of coffee and I'll be fine."

"Alright." He cracked his back and stretched out his cramped muscles. "Let's hit the barracks then."

Nicole let out a huff of air that could barely be considered a laugh, watching him speculatively. "You know, you don't have to sleep in the bunks. I'm sure we could scrounge you up a private room."

The blonde leveled a dry look at his friend, lips pursed slightly and eyebrows raised. "Yeah, no, I'll be fine. I've shared sleeping space plenty of times Nicole, it'll be like old times."

This time she gave him a real laugh, scooping up her dog and heading out of the room. Steve followed her lead, he had no idea where the barracks were at the Bank. As he walked behind her the blonde couldn't help but ponder the events of the night. He was glad that Nicole had opened up to him about what had happened, but more than that she wasn't bottling it up anymore.

One thing that he had learned, from growing up with Bucky but mainly through the war, was that sometimes the lie was good but eventually the truth would need to come out.

IOI

September 06, 2011, Location: I-95 S towards Washington, DC

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Nicole questioned for what had to have been the thousandth time since they left the Bank. "I can drive."

"So can I." He added patiently, which should have been obvious considering the fact that he had been driving since they'd left almost an hour ago. "Relax. I have directions, and I've gotten more sleep than you."

"But… ugh. Okay, just don't crash." Out of the corner of his eye Steve watched Nicole settle back down into her seat, pushed all the way back before she lifted her feet to put them on the dashboard.

He reached out to swat at them, making his friend hiss in surprise before she dropped her feet. "I'm not going to crash. And keep your feet off of the dash."

"Yes, mother." Nicole grumbled, hiding her face behind the collar of her coat as she yawned.

Steve looked over at her, a slight smile on his face. Nicole was curled up in her seat using her coat as a blanket, arms crossed underneath it and clutched close to her chest. SHIELD had delivered the bags they'd packed for the trip, both undamaged and only mildly smelling of smoke providing both of them a change of clothes after using the facility showers. She was no longer wearing a spare set of his clothes, rather a knit gray sweater and a pair of blue jeans and he had since had the opportunity to change out of his pajamas.

They'd needed an early start to make their noon appointment with Dr. Pisani, meaning that they'd only gotten a few hours of sleep since arriving at SHIELD. He'd only gotten a few hours of sleep, because Nicole had been tossing and turning above him when the darkness had finally claimed him and her bed had been neatly made by the time he'd woken up. Which was why Steve was insisting on driving the four hour trip.

Her brown eyes were turned out the window, the dark circles even more prominent in the harsh light and he recognized the look on her face. She was dwelling.

"We actually stole a tank once." He said, letting the words fill the car. The traffic was starting to decongest the farther they got away from the city. "Well, we stole plenty of tanks."

"What?" Her attention was fully on him now, and Nicole had pressed her spine into the corner between the door and the seat.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, letting one hand hang casually out the window of the SHIELD car that they'd borrowed. "Well yeah. It was… I was liberating the HYDRA camp in Krossberg. Over three hundred men were captured from the 107th to be put to the labor camps."

"I remember Papou telling me about this." The redhead added, bringing a smile to Steve's face.

"Yeah, well, he was one of the ones that actually took the tank. I unlocked the first cage, the one that Dum Dum was in, and handed the keys. I needed to find Bucky." He could still remember the looks of disbelief from the men as he busted them out of their cells, especially when he took out the HYDRA agent holding the keys. "And they practically rioted on their way out; grabbing weapons, getting a little pay back."

He'd been looking for Bucky, and then trying to avoid the Red Skull, too busy to notice what the other men had been doing. Steve had expected them to follow his directions, to make their way into the forest and head away from enemy lines. He hadn't expected that they would steal grenades, or a truck, or a tank, and really he should have because it made perfect sense.

"Anyway, we were getting ready to stop for the night, the HYDRA base was completely destroyed and any of their survivors scattered to the wind, when it was time to set up guard shifts. And Dum Dum just settled himself at the main gun on the thing and looked at us. 'I dare those jerry bastards to try and sneak up on me. I'll have one hell of a surprise waiting for them.' He just hunkered down with a bottle of bourbon and waited." The car was silent as he finished his tale, completely silent, and Steve chanced a look over at the other passenger.

Nicole still had her face turned towards him, her seatbelt unbuckled and her knees drawn close to her chest. Her body was mostly hidden under the drape of her jacket, but her face was completely serene and asleep. A smile curved her lips, as though she had fallen asleep right in the middle of his story, which Steve didn't doubt in a second. She had to be exhausted—he was a little tired himself—and so he didn't begrudge her the rest. Instead he turned the radio on and returned his attention to the road.

Things had changed, so many things had changed, but it was good to know that for all of the sweeping advances in technology, the new references and the huge shift in the way of living, some things remained the same. Such as the traffic flow going in and out of New York; sure the cars were different, but the motions were all the same. And they were all familiar; Bucky usually drove whenever they went on long car rides, but some—such as the trip up to his Uncle's cabin—they would split the difference.

Bucky would get really uneasy whenever Steve took the exit out of the city, mostly because his hearing wasn't the best and shit, Stevie, there's someone right behind us watch your blind spot! After a while the constant bitching would get to be too much and Steve usually let his friend get them out of the heavy traffic. But Steve loved the open road, the silence of it, because it would give him time alone with his thoughts and the scenery.

Mostly because within twenty minutes of driving Bucky would be out like a light and it would be just him and his brain.

So this, this definitely wasn't anything new, and he used the time on the road to catch up on some of the music of the time period. It… it wasn't all bad, but he noticed that the music was heavily repeated and catchy. Still, after about half an hour he turned the radio off and just let his mind wander.

His thoughts turned to the events of last night. Coulson had found someone to keep an eye on Chauncey—Steve wasn't sure but he thought that the agent had left the dog with Barton—for the two days that they would be gone, and true to his word workers were already repairing their apartment. And Nicole could control fire. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it, but the proof was irrefutable. Right before they'd left, she'd shown him. She had conjured a small ball of flame no bigger than a golf ball and passed it back and forth between her hands.

She could control fire without being burned and not even SHIELD could really explain why. Only that her cells had some sort of special mutations to keep her from burning. His first thought had been that they'd tried some sort of experimentation on her, something in an attempt to recreate the serum in his body, but both Nicole and Coulson had assured him that such was not the case. That her grandfather would have raised hell if somebody had tried experimenting on her at that age.

So it remained an unexplained phenomena, studied every time there was an anomaly—like last night—with the hopes of shedding some light on it.

What they did know was that she could control it and she typically kept a very tight lid on her abilities.

To Steve, that was enough; he trusted Nicole and God knew she felt guilty about what had happened.

"Flurghaburbur." Her lips curved into a slight frown as her positon shifted, long legs unfolding from their bent up position to sprawl out in front of her. He felt a trickle of unease as she tensed, but it passed when her body moved into a more comfortable spot and she relaxed again.

Steve trusted her, yeah, but that didn't mean he completely ignored how dangerous she could be.

Nicole was simply catching up on some sorely needed rest, and he didn't disturb her until they pulled up to the parking garage. Nicole jerked awake as soon as the car slowed to a stop and the teller asked for their money. Steve was in the process of pulling out his wallet when the redhead reached across his chest to hand over a black credit card, still rubbing her eyes.

"I can cover it." He protested weakly, once the woman had disappeared to run their payment.

Nicole shook her head sleepily, frowning in slight confusion. "It's a work expense, goes on the work card. Are we already there? I can't believe I slept the entire way. What time is it?"

"It's eleven twenty, and yeah we're there." Steve wisely refused to mention the fact she had needed the nap.

"Here's your parking permit, just put that on your mirror, and here's a map of the surrounding monuments. Have a great trip!" The parking attendant offered cheerfully, passing back the credit card as well as a blue piece of plastic with the number 1056 written across the front and a pamphlet with a map as well.

Nicole tucked her card back into her wallet, smiling brightly as she snatched the map from his hands as well. "Thank you!"

"We should check out the Smithsonian Zoological Park." She mentioned as Steve began the arduous search of finding an available parking space. "They have pandas and lions."

"Yeah?" He questioned absently, eyes scanning the rows of cars.

"There's a spot up there on the left." Nicole pointed to an area between a green minivan and a red pickup, not looking up from the map. "And yes."

They took a few moments of stretching from the long ride as Nicole pulled her coat back on and buttoned it up. As she did so, Steve watched her pull out her phone and check it with a focused look before her gaze snapped back up to him. "Okay, so Pisani's office is at the Museum of American History; not far, we're just gonna run over to 7th street and follow it up to Constitution Avenue. Short walk, we've got plenty of time."

"You really plan out everything, don't you?" Steve joked, earning a half-hearted shove from the woman. "Let's get moving."

"It's in my job description, Blondie." They hurried down the flight of stairs and out the main exit. It was a little crisp for early September, but there were still plenty of people out and about; mostly tourists with flashing cameras or their noses shoved into their own maps.

"So what should I know about Dr. Pisani?" Steve asked as they maneuvered around a group of school children, over half of which looked far too bored with whatever their guides were telling them.

Nicole scoffed at that, running her hand through her hair and shoving the strands out of her face with a distasteful expression. "Well, I've met him a few times and he's always been an ass to me. Granted, that was because I tried—on multiple occasions—to tell him that the exhibit he spent most of his life putting together was wrong. Actually, I had to get Dr. Hartmann to make the appointment with him; his office refused to deal with me."

"So, you know, expect more than a little bit of condescension on both of our parts during the meeting." Her expression turned thoughtful then, lips pursing. "Other than that, I'm sure he's a very nice man. And he's put a lot of effort into the Captain America exhibit."

"An exhibit that is apparently way off." The blonde noted sourly.

Nicole lifted her shoulders in a 'what-can-you-do' gesture, swooping down to pick up a discarded bottle and toss it into the nearest recycling bin. "It was more a matter of available information. The government needed Captain America to be a symbol not only to the American people but to the world. Would you want people knowing that the man they idolize as their only successful super soldier started out as a little shit head who had more arrest records than he had common sense?"

"Hey, I had plenty of common sense!" Steve growled playfully, nudging his friend. "And all of those arrests were completely justified."

"Uh-huh." Nicole laughed, eyes drawn up to the passing busses. "But you get my point, yeah? Some people still think that you were just used as a propaganda device, an attempt to sell more bonds."

Steve thought about that, about the comics and movies they'd had him make, the performances he'd had to do as Senator Brandt's dancing monkey. After he'd actually put together the Howling Commandoes though, the film crews had been following him around and at least they were showing real footage. Still, he could see how people would think that he was just propaganda; most days he couldn't even imagine that everything Dr. Erskine's formula had done to him was real.

"Now, as for your meeting." Nicole's words brought him back to the present as they began ascending the steps of the museum. "I can sit with you or I can wait outside, whatever's easier for you. Take as long as you need, or as long as you can, and if we need to spend more time in the capitol it'll be easy for me to extend our hotel stay."

The Smithsonian was full of people, even for a Tuesday, and Steve instinctively pulled his ball cap further down his face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nicole tense as a huge group of people came shoving past, her eyes sharp and uneasy. "Will you be okay with staying longer?"

The question was utterly sincere, and he didn't want anything to happen that would end up causing his friend any more grief. She smiled thinly at him, heading up to the main information desk. "I'll be fine blondie. Been in much worse situations."

They waited in turn at the information desk, moving through the lines until they were standing on the opposite side of the desk and looking at a young man with a rather prominent nose.

"Welcome to the Smithsonian Museum of American History." The man's voice was cracked and monotonous, no doubt it had already been a very long day for him. "How can I help you?"

"Hi! We're with SHIELD and we have a noon appointment with Dr. Pisani but we're not entirely sure where to go." What amazed Steve about the woman beside him was how absolutely casual she could be even when she was horribly uncomfortable. And there was something infectious about her friendly attitude because he saw the attendant turn more to her, a small smile on his face. "Do you think you could help us? Or give him a call?"

"Uh, sure. I'll see if he's in right now." The young man lifted his phone, peering at them curiously as it rang. "Hi, this is Information. I have a couple people that say they're from SHIELD? According to them they have a 12:00 with Dr. Pisani?"

Nicole gave Steve a thumbs up, nails clicking a steady 4-beat pattern along the lacquered desk as they waited, her eyes trailing after a couple of kids.

"Alright, thanks Connie, I'll let them know." The man turned back to face them, letting out a breath of air. "Okay, if you two are fine with waiting here Connie—Dr. Pisani's intern—is on her way down to come get you."

"No problem," Steve nodded. "Thanks."

They moved to the side so that the next person in line could come, Steve arching an eyebrow as he watched a mother tugging her son out of an exhibit gently. There was nothing particularly odd about the scene, save for the fact that there was no mistaking the fact that the little boy was sporting a brand new backpack that was designed to look like his shield.

"Yeeeeah, I might have failed to mention the fact that there's Captain America souvenirs in the gift shops." Nicole followed his gaze with a sheepish expression on her face. "And I may have received a few of them as gifts over the years. Anyway, when Ms. Jenko comes to get us just hang back and let me do the talking. She's been with Dr. Pisani for a few years now, she'll probably recognize your face instantly if she gets a good look at it."

"Alright." On instinct Steve pulled his cap down just a little farther even though he didn't need to, a sly smile curling his lips. "But souvenirs, Dugan? What were they?"

"Shut up pretty boy." The redhead growled defensively, though there was no real heat in her words. "I was a kid."

Steve quickly lifted his hands in surrender. "No, I mean I find it somewhat flattering. But tell me; better or worse than Coulson?"

"Oh!" She gasped in surprise, a challenge rising in her eyes. "That's it. As soon as there are no witnesses I am so going to kill you!"

"I'd be concerned," He drawled, taking a subtle step back, "but we both know you're too big of a fan."

She leveled an unamused glare at him, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed slightly but the glitter of mirth in her eyes counteracted any severity in the expression. "I hate you."

"Mhm. The paraphernalia says differently." Steve couldn't help but laugh at the undignified squawk, clutching at his stomach while she gestured impotently at him.

"Ahem." A voice deadpanned, belonging to a waif of a woman carrying a clip board with her shiny black hair pulled into a sharp ponytail and glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Steve swung his attention to her, but her hazel eyes were locked on Nicole in an expression of distaste. "Agent Dugan."

"Connie." Whereas the intern looked cold and aloof, Nicole was filled to overflowing with warmth that Steve knew was added unnecessarily. Judging by the redhead's face, Nicole felt the same way towards Connie that the thin girl felt towards her. "So glad of you to come collect us."

Connie looked down at her clipboard, scribbling something down. "This had better be good. Dr. Pisani has too much on his plate as it is, he doesn't need to deal with you. Again."

Nicole's smile turned downright predatory at that, glee making her eyes seem just a little brighter. "Believe me sweetheart, he's gonna love me after this."

The woman made a disbelieving click of her tongue, gesturing for them to follow as she led them away from the main area of the museum to a small stairwell. Steve followed quietly behind, more than aware of the fact that the small woman kept trying to steal looks at him from the corner of her eyes. Steve cut a questioning look at Nicole, who rubbed at her chin and looked down.

"Okay, so," She began very quietly, nervously looking over at Connie. "You remember how I told you they weren't really that fond of me?"

The black haired woman's spine stiffened at that, though she didn't comment. "Well, the last time I tried to speak with Dr. Pisani—a couple of years ago—things devolved into a shouting match and I said some things I probably shouldn't have."

"What your colleague means is that she insulted the doctor's heritage, gender, as well as how he went about earning his degree." Connie amended severely, the disapproval plain.

Steve let out a low whistle, looking at his friend. "Dang."

"Okay, yeah, but." Nicole held up her hands in surrender, holding open the door for him to go through. "In my defense I—okay, no, I was just being very childish."

"Very childish doesn't even begin to cover it, Agent Dugan. How someone of your personality managed to become employed—let alone stay with—a government organization is beyond my comprehension." Connie added snidely, making Steve press his lips together in a hard line.

Yeah, she may have been immature—she still was immature, sticking her tongue out at the woman's turned back—but Nicole was only trying to defend him. Steve wasn't sure if he should feel impressed or disappointed, but suddenly they were at a wooden door with a frosted glass window and the name Dr. Daniel Pisani, PhD scrawled right in the middle with gold embossed black letters. Connie rapped her knuckles lightly against the door frame before poking her head in.

"Sir, SHIELD is here." They couldn't hear the answer to that, but what the woman said next gave him a feel for the response. "Yes, sir, it's her."

Connie turned back to face them, her hand still on the doorknob. "He's ready for you. I should hope you'll remember your professional decorum this time."

Nicole saluted with a smirk, holding her hands up in a peace keeping gesture as she stepped into the office. Steve turned to face the young woman, looking her directly in the eye to nod his thanks as he followed his friend. He watched her eyes widen in recognition, her mouth dropping open to form an 'o' of surprise, but before she could say anything the door was shut between them.

The man that could only be Dr. Pisani sat at his desk, fingers folded neatly on top of a cleared space in the otherwise cluttered area. There were books stacked on the shelves to the point of overflowing, papers burying the rest of the space and various objects tucked around. Steve's eyes were drawn to a display of different minerals, beside which sat a fossil of what looked like… it was a trilobite, he was almost certain he recognized the three lobed creature from when he was in school.

Judging from Nicole's description of the man, Steve had been expecting Dr. Pisani to be a severe man, with a beak nose and sharp features, beady eyes and a habit of rubbing his hands together not unlike a shifty scientist from those old films. The man watching them couldn't be any farther from that; he had to be only 5'4 to 5'5 with a head of well combed white hair and round, warm facial features. He was wearing a bright blue button-down dress shirt, with black slacks, red suspenders and a tie with a design of dinosaur bones on them. All in all, he was absolutely nothing like what Steve had expected.

There was no mistaking the dark look his gray eyes leveled on Nicole as she stepped into his office.

"Agent Dugan." His voice was light and almost raspy, it sounded like he actually laughed a lot. "What a… surprise. I was told I was being sent an expert on Captain America, not an amateur."

Only a deaf monkey would be able to miss the condescension and hostility in those words, and his first instinct was to immediately jump to his friend's defense. Just like whenever Bucky would talk himself into some shit—or vice versa—and Steve would end up getting his ass kicked trying to defend his best friend. It didn't matter if Bucky was right or wrong; Steve had his back either way.

But when they were alone, then he could lay into Buck about how many different kinds of stupid he'd been. Granted, in that instance it was more often Bucky jumping to his defense than the other way around.

Still, Steve remembered when Nicole had explained that it was as much her own fault as it was the doctors so he remained silent. He was more than willing to let her hash out the details of their meeting while he tried to get his bearings. They were going to go look at the exhibit, to see how the rest of the world had perceived the life of Steve Rogers and Captain America, and that would take some mental preparation.

He'd been contemplating that fact on the drive to DC, as well as the night before and he still wasn't sure if he was ready.

"Relax, d7oc, I did bring you an expert. And believe me when I say you'll be thankful I did." Nicole was practically bouncing on her heels, the excitement evident.

"Your friend, I presume?" Dr. Pisani emerged from behind his desk, approaching Steve who still had his face mostly hidden. "Hello, I'm Daniel Pisani. You're SHIELD's expert on Captain America?"

"I am sir." He extended his hand, using the other to reach up and tug his cap off of his head. "Captain Steve Rogers."

Pisani reached out to shake his hand as he spoke, eyes widening and sputtering at the name. The shorter man—and Steve had been right in his height estimate—looked up in disbelief. But as Pisani looked at him, Steve saw the recognition. There would be no way that a man who had spent most of his life studying Captain America wouldn't recognize him.

"I… this is impossible!" The man hissed, tones rising in near panic.

Nicole had a horribly smug expression on her face. "Not impossible, doc. Just highly unlikely."

IOI

A/N: Okay, so as you can see we have the bones of Nicole's origin story established through flashbacks and exposition. As I'm sure some of you have already suspected by now, she's going to join the Avenger's Initiative. Which means that I need a superhero name for her.

And that's where you guys come in!

So far, I've only really got Blaze and Hellfire as suggestions (and they're great suggestions) but if you guys have any ideas let me know in the reviews or PM's. I'll pick the one I think fits her best.

So, we need criteria yeah? Obviously something based on her powers of fire (including, but not limited to, heat resistance, fire manipulation and the ability to fly a-la-Ironman) or something based on her Asgardian background—which will be explained fully… someday—and a bird motif. I have the costume design in the process and as soon as it gets done, I'll upload it to my tumblr.

Guys, give me some suggestions because I am in hardcore need of some help with this.