AN: I realized that this story was moving a little slowly so I threw some stuff in this chapter that'll hopefully speed things up a bit. Next chapter will be from Steve's POV. Just a note, I know in the movie Coulson is the one who tells Steve about Bruce, but I realized that after I wrote this and I really liked the conversation Waverly and Steve have about the Hulk, so I decided to keep it. Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy. Please review and give me some feedback.

I own nothing.

Chapter Four:

Waverly was sitting cross-legged on the couch. After they had put away their groceries, Steve had offered to make dinner. Waverly was a little uncomfortable, after all she was there to help Steve, not the other way around. But, giving the man food poisoning wasn't about to help anything. So, Waverly sat on the couch with her laptop cradled on a pillow in her lap. The TV was on, but the volume was low so the roommates could talk. Their current discussion, Facebook. Well, actually, the internet in its entirety.

"It was actually first developed by the military," Waverly said. She scanned the Wikipedia page on the screen in front of her. "I thought you'd find that interesting."

"What was it used for?" Steve asked from the kitchen.

Waverly looked up from her computer. Steve's back was to her and he was stirring something on the stove. Waverly was immeasurably thankful that stoves were something that had been around in the 40's. If she had had to teach Steve how to use an oven… well the fire department would probably have been involved. "It was a way for all the different agencies to stay in contact," she answered. "It was actually in its early stages during World War II."

Steve nodded. "I was a bit busy around that time."

"The real internet boom was in the late eighties, early nineties," Waverly continued. "That's when computers finally became small enough for people to own in their homes." Waverly clicked on a picture of an ancient looking desk top. She held her computer up and turned it toward the kitchen. "See?"

Steve looked over his shoulder, holding a wooden spoon to his lips. "Mm hmm," he mumbled.

"The ones the army first used were bigger than your apartment."

Steve set his spoon down and came into the living room. "You gotta stop that," he said. "It's yours too."

Waverly laughed. "Technically, it's SHIELD's."

Steve made a face of agreement and then returned to the kitchen. "So, how did they get them to be so small? Like yours."

Waverly placed her computer on the coffee table. "I have no clue. But just like everything, as time goes on people find ways to make things faster, better, smaller." Waverly put her laptop in sleep mode and then joined Steve in the kitchen. The room was small and with Steve's muscles taking up most of it, Waverly ducked around the soldier as she pulled plates down for dinner. She was just finishing up setting the table when Steve asked the question she was dreading answering.

"What did they do to make people like me better?" The soldier was not looking at her, his eyes focused on the simmering pot and wooden spoon before him.

Waverly let out a sigh. She had been warned of this. She had been prepared. Of course, she already knew about Bruce Banner; who didn't? Aside from what the media released to the public, Waverly also knew much more about the doctor. She, after all, compiled his file for Agent Coulson. But still, Waverly knew Steve would be the type of person to assume some of the blame for what had happened to Banner.

"Waverly?" Steve questioned. He finally looked up at her.

"Well," she said, her mind reaching to the corner of her mind that had this information tucked away. "As you well know, when Erksine was killed, the secret to the serum went with him. But when legend spread of what you did, you became a legend. You were the first super hero. People searched for you after you took that plane down. Years and years were spent looking for you. You brought hope, made people feel safe." Waverly paused trying to discern the look on Steve's face. It was an odd mix of modest embarrassment and disappointment. There was a flicker of sadness too. And pride. "When a lot of people gave up on looking for you, scientists thought it would be easier to just replicate the serum. Erksine's formula was roughed out pretty easily. It was common knowledge that vita rays were involved. But the exact mixture of chemicals, the exact ratio of serum to vita rays could never be figured out."

Dinner sat forgotten on the stove as Steve listened intently to Waverly. The part of the story she wanted to tell least was coming up. And she knew Steve sensed it, even before he asked, "What happened, Waverly? What happened to the scientist that did it?"

"His name's Bruce Banner." Waverly went back in the living room to retrieve her laptop. She typed quickly into Google and brought up Banner's picture. Showing Steve, she continued, "The guy's a genius. But something went wrong." Waverly turned the computer back to her. She quickly typed something else into Google. A picture of the Hulk popped up. "It wasn't pleasant to say the least," she said, swiveling the laptop back around so Steve could see.

Waverly watched Steve's eyes widen. He bent lower over the laptop to look at the picture. The Hulk was perched on a half-destroyed building, a car door swinging from his free hand.

"He becomes what the people called 'The Incredible Hulk.' He's got all the super strength you do. Even more to be honest. He can jump like nobody's business." Waverly closed the computer and placed it on the counter. "But he struggles to control himself in this form. Anger triggers the change."

Steve turned silently back to the stove and finished up dinner preparations in silence. Waverly slumped in her seat and studied the captain's back. She could tell he was struggling with his own inner demons.

"He lived," Waverly said, trying to sound comforting. "SHEILD keeps an eye on him. We make sure he's in a stable condition. He's in India, right now, helping the people as a doctor. He hasn't had an… episode for over a year now."

Steve nodded but didn't look relieved. "I shouldn't have put that plane down." The soldier's voice was a quiet mumble.

"What?" Waverly asked, a tad confused. How did they get back on the subject of the plane?

"I should have found another way. If I hadn't been frozen in the ocean for seventy years, that doctor wouldn't have done what he did to himself." Steve's grip on the wooden spoon increased to the point that the wood split in his fist.

Waverly had dealt with instances like this before. Her brother was an assassin. He had come home from several missions with guilt hanging over him. Sure, he usually kept himself detached from his emotions when he was on the job, but there were exceptions. Like the time he brought back Natasha. So, Waverly rose from her seat and joined Steve at the stove. Still a tad uncomfortable with the soldier, she awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself," she said. "Banner knew the risks. You're not to blame for any of this." Waverly knew that Steve's post-traumatic stress disorder was probably contributing to his feelings of guilt. She reached across the counter and grabbed his bottle of Prozac. With her free hand, she tugged at the broken spoon in Steve's hand. He released his grip and she traded him the spoon for his Prozac.

"Take it," she said. "And let's eat. I'm starving. Whatever you made smells great." Waverly gave Steve a reassuring smile before she tossed the broken spoon into the waste basket underneath the kitchen sink.

Sitting back at the table, Waverly heard Steve sigh and the click of a pill bottle being opened. "It's spaghetti," Steve said after he gulped down his prescribed dosage. "That's about the only decent thing I can make."

Waverly's stomach growled loudly as Steve dropped a spoonful of noodles onto the girl's plate. "Well it looks great."

Steve served himself and then set the pot of homemade spaghetti sauce in the middle of the table. Waverly spooned the sauce on her plate and mixed it into the tangle of noodles. She dug eagerly into the meal, before Steve had even sauced his own plate.

"Oh wow." She said, hiding her full mouth behind a napkin. "You're doing all the cooking. This is good!"

Waverly was pleased when a delighted chuckled escaped the soldier's lips, no matter how soft it was. "Well, thank you."

After engulfing half of her plate, Waverly slowed her rate of spaghetti intake so she could resume her discussion of the internet with Steve. She had just finished explaining Facebook to him when they had finished their meal. Waverly was cleaning up the dinner mess, placing soiled pots and plates into the dishwasher.

"But what's the point of it?" Steve asked from the table. He was sipping on the remainder of his milk, watching Waverly over the back of his chair.

Waverly laughed. "Honestly, there really is no point to Facebook." She shut the dishwasher and turned the device on. "I mean, it's a way for people to stay in touch."

"Don't people use the telephone anymore?"

Waverly gave a shrug. "It's all about virtual communication now. Everything's either online or texting. But, aside from that, Facebook isn't all that great."

"And the guy who made it is a millionaire?"

"Yup."

Steve shook his head. "A million dollars just for making something that people don't even need?"

Waverly joined Steve back at the table with a box of Oreos for dessert. "Some people are obsessed with the site. They check it nonstop throughout the day. I never got real into it, though. I mean, I creep on it but that's about it."

"Creep?"

"Facebook stalking." Waverly explained. "It's when you look at other people's profiles and see what they're doing, who they're talking to." At Steve's raised eyebrow, the girl continued. "It's not as weird as it sounds. It's just something people do these days. Like, if I met you at a club or something and I was interested in you, I would probably go home and type your name into Facebook and look up your profile. If you put enough on your page, I could know all about you without having asked a single question."

Steve shook his blonde head once more. "Just something else to eliminate actual human interaction."

"Yup, pretty much."

Steve took an Oreo, still looking baffled by the concept of Facebook. "I just don't understand, though. The guy made millions of this. Shouldn't… I don't know… that kind of money should be for something like what Erksine did. Something worthwhile."

"I agree," Waverly said, taking a cookie as well. "If we paid doctors and scientists and engineers the way we pay actors, singers, athletes, and Mark Zuckerburg, there would be so many world problems we could solve."

"Maybe your generation can change that," Steve said.

Waverly sighed, then let out a laugh. "My generation? You mean ours. You may have been born in the 1920's but physically, you're still 23 years old."

"Then maybe we can change it."

Another laugh escaped the female agent's lips. "Yeah sure. As soon as we dig the earbuds out of everyone's ears and rip their thumbs away from their cell phones. We might have to shut down Facebook too, while we're at it."

Steve shrugged. "If I am as big of a legend as you say I am, I think I can have some influence over people. When I'm back in this world, I plan on making a difference again."

Waverly locked gazes with Steve. The intensity in his blue eyes showed how committed he was with that statement. She knew he'd do great things for this country, whether or not he was employed by SHIELD, once he had adjusted to his new life. Waverly just hoped she would be able to teach him everything he needed to know. Steve said something about showering before he went to bed, but Waverly was too lost in her own thoughts to hear it. As Steve's back retreated from the kitchen, she called out a nearly forgotten, "Thanks for dinner."

Waverly heard Steve call back, "You're welcome," before she heard the click of the lock on the bathroom door. The shower turned on and Waverly cleaned up their dessert. The agent then vanished into her room to finally finish unpacking. The job was slow, her thoughts weighing her down. Steve had such a good heart and he was so troubled by everything that happened. Waverly wasn't anything special. She wasn't a psychologist, she wasn't a scientist, she was just a secretary. How could she be expected to detangle Steve's web of confusion and help him adjust?

As Waverly finished putting her clothes away, she had a comforting thought. Fury wanted you for this job. He must think there's something you can do for Steve.

Waverly wasn't sure what time it was when she finally gave up unpacking and went to bed. She was, however, strikingly aware of what time it was when she woke up. It was far, far too early. Glancing at the clock, Waverly saw that it was three in the morning. She sat up in bed and stretched before realizing what had caused her to be awake at such an hour. She had heard screaming. Waverly jumped from her bed and bolted from the room.

Steve's bedroom door was closed, but light peeked out from the crack above the floor. It was Steve who had screamed. Waverly's slippered feet padded to a stop outside the soldier's door. She knocked gently, aware of the sound of rapid breathing.

"Steve? Are you all right?"

Waverly listened while Steve calmed himself and brought his breathing back under control. A moment later, he had opened the door. The soldier was dressed in plaid flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. The shirt was drenched in sweat and clung to his muscles.

"I – I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" Steve seemed rather flustered. He rubbed sweat off his forehead and looked awkwardly down at Waverly. He didn't meet her eye and a slight flush painted his cheeks.

"It's okay," Waverly said. "What happened?"

Steve let out a sigh through clenched teeth. Waverly could tell his was struggling with something and was feeling embarrassed. A hand nervously ruffling his hair, Steve answered. "I – I had a nightmare."

Comprehension dawned on Waverly's face. She sighed and leaned against the hallway wall. He was having flashbacks of the war. It was his post-traumatic stress disorder acting up. Dealing with his nightmares was a battle Steve needed to face on his own; Waverly was just here to acquaint him with modern times. But, that didn't mean she couldn't help him out a little. Waverly thought back to the days when she was a little girl and had nightmares about being kidnapped. Always kidnapped. The dreams had haunted her throughout much of her childhood. Despite being a no-holds-barred assassin, Clint had quite the soft spot for his sister and helped her through her nightmares. Waverly still remembered what the archer had done when she woke him with her screams. "Come with me," she said to Steve.

Waverly led Steve into the kitchen. She flipped on the light and started pulling things out of the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Hot chocolate," she answered. Waverly turned on the stove and placed a pot of water to boil. "It's what my brother always gave me when I had nightmares. It'll help you sleep."

Waverly sat at the table beside Steve. She wanted to ask what Steve's dream was about, but knew better. So instead, she sat silently and waited for Steve to do the talking.

Steve wasn't about to talk, though. He stood suddenly from the table and stalked from the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Waverly called after him.

"To the gym," Steve answered shortly.

"Steve, it's three A.M."

"The manager gave me a spare key." Steve pulled a gym back from the closet near the front door and slipped his boots onto his feet. "He said I'm there enough. I might as well lock up for him a few nights."

Waverly huffed but bit back an annoyed retort. Abandoning the hot chocolate, she followed Steve into the living room. "Is that what you do every time you can't sleep?"

"Yes." Steve grabbed his keys and opened the door.

"Steve, you can't deal with your nightmares like this." Waverly put her hand on the door and closed it again. "I'm supposed to be helping you. You can't run off to the gym every time you have a nightmare."

Steve wrenched the door back open but gently pushed Waverly to the side. "I don't need to be treated like a child."

With that, the captain stepped into the hallway and shut the apartment door behind him. Waverly gritted her teeth and leaned her back against the door. Yeah, confessing that you had woke up screaming from a nightmare seemed childish. Sure, hot chocolate seemed childish as well. But, Waverly thought, sometimes that's what people need. Plenty of war veterans suffered from recurring nightmares. Steve's case was slightly different in the fact that he didn't fight the known villain of World War II, Hitler, he fought Red Skull and not many people knew that whole story. And, due to the fact that Steve had essentially been in suspended animation for seventy years, his case was much different from most soldiers. Still, there had to be something that would help him deal with his problems.

Knowing it was a huge violation of the soldier's privacy, Waverly ventured into his room. The light was still on. The room was stark white and void of any sort of personal touch; except for the gleaming shield propped up in the corner of the room. Steve's sheets had been thrown on the floor, no doubt due to his nightmare. On the bedside table, an open envelope with a letter spilling out bathed in the lamplight.

Waverly briefly wondered who'd be writing to Steve. The thought never occurred to her that Steve may very well be writing the letter to someone else. Ignoring the knot in her stomach that screamed at her, Waverly further violated Steve's privacy and picked up the piece of paper. Sitting on the bed, she began to read.

Peggy,

I wish I had had the time to thank you for everything. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish all that I had done. You and Dr. Erksine were two of the few who believed in me from the beginning. I appreciate everything that the both of you sacrificed, not only to help me, but to help the world. My only regret is that I never told you how I felt about you. We made a date to go dancing. I wish I had been able to make it. I think I finally found the right partner. Where ever you are, I hope you are happy.

~Steve

Waverly heaved a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair. She set the letter down, switched Steve's light off, and returned to her room. Waverly slipped off her slippers and slid back into bed. Reading the letter Steve had wrote bothered her, she wasn't quite sure why. She felt sorry for Steve, but a nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her there was more to it. Waverly plucked her phone from her bedside table and quickly typed herself a note. Using her resources at SHIELD, Waverly would find out who this Peggy was. Maybe this Peggy would unlock some of the secrets of Steve's past and help Waverly better help the soldier.