2 – Flight Nerves – May 10, 2012

The week went by slowly, and Aspen felt as if every day, every final, dragged. It didn't help that everyone was talking about the Battle of New York as it had been dubbed. She'd heard more girls swooning over the superheroes and heard more far-fetched stories of epic one-on-one battles with the Chitauri. It was all she could do to just keep walking.

"…and that's when I grabbed the alien's laser gun and blasted like four of them before they could get any closer," a junior boy in her biology class was staying when she walked in for her final. A group of giggling girls surrounded him. "It was a close one, but they obviously had no idea what they were doing."

Aspen tried not to roll her eyes unsuccessfully.

"Ooh, I was saved by Captain America," one of the girls said, looking as if she might swoon. "I was trapped in the bank when he rescued us."

"The guy's a legend. My dad collects his trading cards. I wonder if I could get him to sign them…"

Aspen was suddenly reminded of Coulson, a thought that made her want to leave the room.

"Hey, Tolvar, what happened to your face?" the boy who had been puffing himself up asked, seeing her injuries. "Were you there?"

"I was in a car accident," she said. "Nothing serious."

"Did you see the action though? It was incredible!"

Aspen tried to keep her anger in check. People had died. What did this boy know?

"I was lucky to see it up close-"

"Lucky?" Aspen asked, her voice low and dangerous. She had their attention now. "Lucky? People died. I was down there. I saw some of the worst of it. Yeah, it's cool that there were superheroes like Iron Man and Thor and Steve down there-"

"Who's Steve?" one of the girls asked.

"Never mind," Aspen grumbled.

"Steve Rogers – that's what Captain America's real name is," the boy put in. "You sound as if you know him," he added, turning to Aspen.

"I just read about him," Aspen said. "I told you, I was in a car crash."

"But you just said you saw the worst of it-"

"Just drop it," she practically growled.

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop asking."

Aspen turned away from them, ignoring the giggles of the girls. She was saved the next moment when the teacher arrived with their finals.

When Thursday evening finally came, Aspen drove to Steve's apartment after her last final. She'd talked to Clint the night before, setting him up with the GPS locaters. He'd wished her luck, lamenting that he couldn't be there too. He seemed to be doing better with work to keep his mind off of things. Aspen could still see a haunted dullness to his eyes when he thought she wasn't watching him, but she'd seen several genuine smiles and gotten a few laughs out of him. She hadn't slept well that week, waking up to several nightmares involving Chitauri and explosions. Without Steve there, she'd lain awake for hours before giving up on sleep and rereading over her school notes and sometimes the letter her mother had written to her – the one she'd found in the puzzle box.

Now as she pulled her car over to the curb and got out, she felt a rush of excitement. In less twenty-four hours they would be boarding a plane for Portland and she would be that much closer to finding out the truth. She had made a mental note of everything her parents had left for her, packing only the address with the coordinates and the floppy disk. The letter and bark were locked safely away in her office at SHIELD.

She knocked on Steve's door and was admitted a second later. The kitchen smelled like food, and she looked around in surprise. "Are you cooking?" she asked. She set her school bag down next to the door and entered the kitchen.

"Er, yeah. Trying to anyway." He had a box of pasta out on the counter and a pot on the stove. The pot was currently overflowing with bubbles. Aspen grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred it, lowering the temperature a hair. "It was supposed to be done by the time you got here." He shrugged sheepishly which made Aspen smile widely.

"You're cooking dinner for me?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's not going to be anything special. I just thought after such a long week and with all that excitement, you deserved something…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"No one's ever cooked dinner for me," she said, feeling touched. "Thank you."

"I hope you like spaghetti. Besides toast, that's about all I know how to cook."

"Sounds amazing. Do you have sauce?" She dug around his cupboard.

"Er…" He fumbled around in a grocery sack that sat on his kitchen table. "I seem to have forgotten that."

"That's alright, I know how to make it from scratch," she assured him. "It's a family recipe my aunt used to make when she wasn't too drunk to cook."

"How is your aunt doing?" Steve asked her as she got out the ingredients to make the sauce. Fortunately he had everything she needed.

"A lot better. We talk regularly now. After New York she even offered to fly up, but I told her it was all right. She stopped drinking and took a position at the local college teaching biology. I think she's really enjoying that. She left the whole science scene after what happened with my parents, but we're working on getting her to forgive herself."

"Did you tell her that your mom called?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'm not sure how she'd react. She's doing so well…"

"How are you holding up?"

"As well as I can. I'm anxious to get going." She turned the heat up on the front burner, stirring her sauce until it began to thicken. "It's hard not just jumping in. Having to wait a week was torture. You should have seen me in my last final. I'm pretty sure my classmates think I have fleas for how much I was squirming in my seat."

Steve chuckled. "Well you don't have long to wait now," he said.

"Tomorrow. I'm so excited and yet so scared. I don't know what to expect. I called the company that handled the deed of the Sunflower House, and they said it's in rough shape. It's not livable anymore. I'm just afraid any clues have been erased."

"Your parents were – are – smart. They'll have hidden anything well and in a place that wouldn't get destroyed over time."

"You're right. This is going to be like a Nancy Drew mystery!"

"I actually know what you're talking about!" Steve said excitedly. "I read the Hardy Boys books when I was younger."

The stove buzzed, and Aspen drained the pasta in the strainer. "This was supposed to be me cooking for you," Steve said woefully.

Aspen grinned. "It's alright. It's the thought that counts. You could pour drinks and put out plates and silverware."

"Right. I hadn't gotten that far." He cleared the table and set it while Aspen mixed the sauce in. She served the pasta onto two plates, and they sat down to eat. "This is way better than what I would have come up with," he admitted.

"Well I'm no Shakes at cooking, I just had to fend for myself a lot growing up. I got to be a pro at making Macaroni and Cheese more interesting."

"Did you like growing up in Arizona?"

"Not really. It was hot and dusty. I was used to the lush forests and mild climate of Oregon. I don't remember a whole lot about Portland, but I remember really liking it."

"But you never moved back?"

"No. I was recruited by ARTIFACT straight out of high school. I incorrectly thought that Joseph Danners and his organization were going to be my ticket to learning more about my parents and my past. I should have known it was too good to be true."

"I think sometimes we tend to forget to be cautious when someone offers us information about someone we love. If you hadn't joined ARTIFACT, you might be wondering to this day what you might have learned from them."

"You're right. I like to think that everything up to this moment happened for a reason," she said. "Even what happened with Loki. Sometimes pain is necessary to learn a lesson. I feel like I've come out of it a stronger person."

"I feel the same way about the war. It was horrible, and I still have nightmares about the deaths I saw, the deaths I was responsible for…but in the end, I think I came out a better person. I learned what it means to truly fight for what you believe in, for what you believe is right. I've lost, and I've learned to move on. It's just hard when it's really been over sixty years, but for me it's only been a few weeks." Aspen nodded. She forgot sometimes how close his past still was to him. "After I woke up, Fury sent me the files on the men who helped me take down Hydra during the war. They're all dead. Everyone except Peggy."

"That must have been a shock."

"It finally made it all real."

"How did you meet?" she asked. "If it doesn't hurt too much to talk about it," she added hastily.

"No, it's alright. When I was in Italy trying to sell war bonds, I heard that soldiers had been captured by Hydra. My friend Bucky was one of them. I convinced Peggy and Howard Stark to fly me behind enemy lines and set out to free the prisoners."

"By yourself?" He nodded. "Did you ever think you might not come back?"

"It crossed my mind, but I would do anything to get Bucky back and the other men. I was able to free them. We returned to the camp, nearly 400 men."

"Who most likely would have died if you hadn't gone after them."

Steve looked bashful. "Just doing my duty."

"And following your heart. What happened after that?" she encouraged.

"I picked a group of men to help me take down Hydra. We were called The Howling Commandos. There were seven of us including Bucky and me. We managed to take out several Hydra bases and eventually gain access to the lab where Schmidt was hiding. They were some of the best men I knew. I wish I'd had the chance to tell them that."

"You saved their lives and they chose to follow you into extreme danger. I think they knew how much you appreciated them." Aspen smiled. "I think it's just instinctual to want to follow you. I know the feeling."

"Before the war, before the serum…no one would ever have followed me. Except maybe Bucky, but he was usually too busy getting me out of fights – me being the punching bag."

"I can't believe anyone would do that to you," she said in an outburst. "But I suppose bullies existed back then too."

Steve smiled at her. "If I'd known you back then, maybe they would have thought twice before bullying me."

"I would have come to your defense," she told him. "They wouldn't have known what hit them. Literally."

Steve chuckled. "Probably not."

They chatted for awhile longer about the war, and Steve seemed more comfortable bringing up his past. Then Aspen told him about the conversation she'd overheard before her Biology final. "It's like they just have no idea about the reality of violence. Kids play violent video games all the time, watch violent movies, but he just made up some cock and bull story to make himself a hero. They don't realize what really happened – how many people really died."

Steve frowned. "That really bothered you."

"It did. The girls were giggling over you, you know. I guess one of them was trapped in the bank when you stepped in to save them." Steve's ears reddened a little. "I thought she was going to swoon."

"I don't know why…" Steve looked down at the table, looking flustered.

Aspen regretted embarrassing him. "They're just caught up in the whole superhero thing. I know you for just being you though. That's what matters."

He looked up at her, blue eyes warm. Aspen smiled under his gaze, wondering just what it was that he was thinking at the moment. He didn't reply though and a moment later they cleaned up together, washing and putting away the dishes. "Thanks for this," Aspen said, turning to Steve as she folded the dishtowel. "It was nice. Just what I needed."

"I'm glad." His eyes shone as he looked at her. Aspen kept folding the towel, suddenly not knowing what to do with her hands. "I should-" she said at the same time Steve asked. "Would you-"

He blushed. "Go ahead."

"I should get home to pack," she said. "I've been packing and repacking all week."

"I was going to ask if you'd like me to meet you at your apartment or if you wanted to pick me up tomorrow."

"I'll pick you up and drive us to the airport. I'll be here at 8:45."

"I'll see you then." He walked her to the door where she retrieved her school bag. A twinge of excitement and nerves twisted her gut. She turned back to look at him. "It will be fine," he assured her, reading her thoughts. "Whatever happens, we're in this together."

If anything could have made Aspen feel better, it was that. On impulse, she pulled him into a hug. His arms went around her instinctually without any of the awkwardness from the beginning of their friendship.

"Tomorrow," she said pulling away. "For better or for worse."

…

Steve heard the knock on his door at 8:45 sharp. He grabbed his duffle bag and opened the door. Aspen stood there, dressed in jeans and a tan leather jacket. Sunglasses were shoved up on her head, tangled in her light red curls. The blonde strands stood out, and he wondered if they were natural or if she'd somehow colored them. On her suggestion, Steve had donned a more casual, modern outfit unlike his usual slacks and button up shirts. He had a blue T-shirt that was a little tighter than he was used to and a pair of jeans that she had told him were purposely worn looking (a concept he couldn't quite grasp). He'd replaced his usual shoes with a pair of sneakers. He shoved his Brooklyn baseball cap onto his head and grinned at her.

"How's this?" he asked.

"You look like a natural!" she said, beaming. "No one will suspect a thing."

He locked up his apartment and followed her down to her car. He noticed she wasn't driving her usual black Audi. "Where's your car?" he asked.

"I borrowed this one from SHIELD. It's a little less conspicuous," she told him. It was a black Acura. Steve was beginning to recognize car brands though he had no idea which was better than another. He climbed into the passenger's seat after tossing his bag in the backseat. Aspen had only packed a duffle bag too, he noticed. They were quiet on the drive to the airport, both nervous though they tried not to show it to the other. Aspen parked in the parking garage by the airport, and they shouldered their bags. She led him into the building which was huge and unlike anything Steve had ever been in before. She stopped at a small machine similar to a computer where she printed their tickets. Steve watched, fascinated. He curbed his questions and let Aspen lead him to the security checkpoint. She'd warned him about these, and he was prepared when they had to take off their shoes and belts and stand still while the guards waved wands over them. Steve kept his mouth shut when he wanted to ask what the guards were looking for. He'd heard about 9/11 and the preceding security measures. SHIELD had set him up with a driver's license changing his date of birth to 1986 instead of 1918 to avoid suspicion. The guards said nothing if they recognized the name.

They finally passed security and grabbed their bags again, lacing their shoes up. Aspen found their gate and they sat waiting with the masses of other people flying out that morning. A news report was playing on the TV above their heads, and Steve was nervous to find they were reporting on the battle of New York again. Footage showed a distant shot of himself dressed in his red, white, and blue uniform. He pulled his hat down lower over his face.

Aspen noticed and glanced up at the TV, frowning. "Just act like you have no idea what they're talking about if anyone says anything," she told him. "At least you don't have your shield with you. That would be a dead giveaway. Also it would have sent those metal detectors into a frenzy."

"It wouldn't fit in the bag."

They waited for half an hour before their plane began boarding. Aspen handed him his ticket. "Just hand it to the woman at the door," she said. "Our seats are toward the back of the plane." He nodded, getting up to follow her as their row was called. He handed over his ticket as the woman working there gave him a smile and wished him a good flight. The plane was tight, and he felt a little claustrophobic as he followed Aspen back to their seats. An anxiety started to build, and he found it hard to breathe. They stowed their bags in the overhead compartments above their row. Aspen gave him the window seat and sat next to him, strapping herself in. There were three seats per row, but they were crammed in, and Aspen's leg was pressed against his. He took comfort in her closeness, trying not to feel nervous. The last time he had been on an aircraft, he realized, he had taken it straight into the Arctic and ended up frozen for sixty-seven years. No wonder he felt nervous. He tapped his fingers on his leg. After the battle in New York, he shouldn't be feeling a little jittery over a plane flight.

"Sky Mall. A staple in any airplane experience," Aspen said, diverting his attention. She pulled a glossy magazine out of the seat pocket in front of her and flipped it open. "A whole magazine with things you never knew you needed. Like look at this portable ice cream maker with a Panini grill attachment. Eat canned beans no more while camping. Or these solar toads that light up your yard like little fairies lights."

He smiled at her humor and found himself forgetting his nerves as she took him through the entire magazine with commentary. The seat next to them was taken by an elderly woman who started knitting immediately without a word. When the plane began to move, Aspen paused in her commentary. Steve hadn't realized he was clenching the seat arm as the plane gained speed, but he felt Aspen place her hand over his and glanced down at her. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he relaxed.

"Planes have gotten a lot safer in the last sixty years," she assured him as the plane left the ground.

"It's not that, it's just…the last time I was on a plane…" he trailed off, but Aspen's eyes widened in understanding.

"Of course," she said softly. "The Valkyrie." She squeezed his hand, and he felt a little better. "That's not going to happen again," she reassured him. "We've got a long flight ahead of us. We're stopping in Denver to get on another plane before heading to Portland. Should be about 8 hours with the time in between. We're in for a long day, but we'll be okay." He nodded, trying to calm his nerves.

"It's silly. I know the same thing isn't going to happen."

"It's not silly. You don't have to make excuses," she told him. "Oh, I forgot to give you this." She pulled out a leather cord bracelet and handed it to him. It was a dark color and had a golden token on the top. It was a compass, he realized, etched into the metal. A couple of silver beads were braided in. "The tracking device is in one of the beads. Clint has all our information, so if anything happens, he'll know. I've set it up on my phone. Let me do it on yours."

He handed his phone over and pushed the bracelet onto his right wrist. He liked it. It was small enough that it wouldn't draw attention, and the compass was perfect. Aspen handed back his phone.

"All set."

"Thank you," he told her.

"Let's just hope everything goes smoothly."

They had gained altitude now, and Steve glanced out the window. He could see New York City fading into the distance, the cars as small as toys. He could see the span of the destruction better from the air. He felt Aspen lean over him to look out the window. "It looks worse from here," she said as if reading his thoughts. He found himself suddenly distracted by the smell of her shampoo as her red curls fell over his shoulder. He brushed the thought aside as she leaned back in her seat. She sighed. "I wish we were there already," she said impatiently. Her green eyes were tinged with worry. "We gain three hours going across the time zones, so it will only be about three in Portland when we arrive."

"You want to go home right away," he said.

She turned her eyes on him. "At least to see the house. Then we'll find a hotel. We can start searching tomorrow. I have a feeling we're both going to be pretty exhausted when this flight is over."

…

The rest of the flight wasn't bad. Aspen kept up a steady stream of conversation, and Steve learned more about her than he had known before. They were careful to not mention anything aloud that would sound suspicious to the other passengers like facts about World War II or SHIELD. Aspen seemed to be in her element as she spoke about college and the friends she was getting to know better in her classes. He could tell how much she loved having something normal to talk about. When he had first met her, there had been a lingering sadness in her eyes, but now they danced with life when she spoke and when she laughed, her entire face laughed along with her mouth. Halfway through the flight, Aspen had drifted off, her head resting against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was surprised by how comfortable she was around him. They'd hit it off at once, but they'd only known each other for a little less than a month. He felt the same way around her though. There was something safe, something reassuring about her presence, and she seemed to feel the same way about his. He lay his head back against the seat, letting it rest lightly against hers and shut his eyes.

When the plane began its descent in Denver, they both awoke. Steve was feeling uncomfortable again. Memories of taking the Valkyrie down invaded his mind, and he found himself tensing again. Aspen didn't say anything as she took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. He shut his eyes and focused on that. When the plane touched down on the airway, he found that he was only slightly shaken. Aspen's reassurance had driven the fear away. He hadn't realized he would feel that way. The Valkyrie was part of the past, but to him it was a not so distant memory.

They waited until the plane was fully stopped at the gate and got out, grabbing their bags and heading into the airport. He could feel the heat radiating through the tunnel that led from the plane to the airport. They had an hour layover, so they ate lunch at a little restaurant in the airport and looked through several of the stores before finding their new gate and awaiting the arrival of the plane. Aspen had gotten quieter, and Steve summed it up to nerves. When she turned to him and said, "I think we're being followed," he tensed, fighting back instincts to look around them. "Two men, two o'clock, four o'clock. They were on the first flight. They're trying too hard not to look at us."

Steve casually stretched, peering over at one of the men. The man met his eyes and then looked away, feigning disinterest. "I don't recognize him."

"Me neither. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

"Go with your instincts," he told her.

"I should have accepted Fury's offer of a SHIELD escort," she said.

"He wanted to send someone with us?" Steve asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"He said we should take a Quinjet, but I didn't want to do this SHIELD's way."

"We'll be careful," he assured her, but he was feeling nervous now too. The older woman who had sat next to Aspen on the plane was sitting a few seats away, still knitting. Maybe it was just a coincidence that the two men were on the same flight. The one he had made eye contact with sat a few rows away, pulling out a newspaper and scanning it.

Steve was relieved when they were allowed to board. This plane was smaller than the last with two seats on one side and three on the other. They were on the side with two. This time Steve let Aspen have the window seat. He pulled out his sketchpad as soon as the plane was in the air and continued working on something he had started right after New York. Aspen peered over at what he was drawing.

"Wow," she said, and he felt a surge of pride. "Who is that?" She leaned over to get a closer look. The pen drawing depicted a scene from New York. A girl leaned across an overturned taxi, taking a child's hand to help her.

"Can't you guess?" he asked. She frowned, looking confused. "It's you," he told her finally. "Clint told me about how you saved all those people who were trapped behind the taxi."

"Oh!" She put a hand to her mouth, looking surprised that he would draw such a thing. "It didn't quite happen like that."

"You don't like it?"

"Of course I like it!" she amended. "I just mean, I wasn't all that helpful. I just sort of ran around crazily and the Chitauri chased me."

"Well, whatever you did, a dozen people lived because of it." He smiled at the look on her face. "You don't give yourself enough credit. In fact, whenever we got together – the Avengers, that is–" he lowered his voice at this "–you always edged away like you weren't a part of it, of us."

"That's because I'm not," she said quickly. "I'm not a hero."

"Why not?" he asked.

She looked up at him in consternation. "I'm just not," she replied.

"Well, I think you are," he said. "And I'm Captain America, so that settles the matter."

She gaped at him for a moment as if she couldn't believe he'd just used that as justification for taking his word. Then a smile broke out over her face, and she began to laugh. She clutched his arm, trying not to make a scene. "I guess that settles it," she said between laughs. "I've never seen you embrace your title like that before," she added when her laughter had subsided.

He grinned. "I have to use my authority where I see fit. But in all seriousness, you could have stayed out of it, but you came. You fought because your friends' lives were on the line, because you thought you had a chance of stopping Loki. You put your life in danger to help strangers. That's a hero, Aspen."

She blushed, looking down at her hands. "Is that really how you see me?" she asked quietly.

"It is."

She was quiet for a moment and then, so softly he could hardly hear her, "Loki said the same thing. When I spoke to him that morning before he left with Thor."

"He called you a hero?" Steve was surprised. He had come to the understanding that Aspen had felt something toward the demi-god, but he hadn't seriously considered that Loki had felt something real for Aspen. Maybe he had been wrong. The bite of jealousy he tasted surprised him.

"He said that because I'm willing to fight for good that makes me a hero. That was my definition of a hero – someone who fights for good. I didn't mean myself."

"Maybe he's less crazy than I thought," Steve said.

"He's not crazy," Aspen defended quickly. "Just," she softened her tone, "misunderstood?" Steve bit his lip, not wanting to argue with her on the subject. "I know no one else is going to see it that way. I guess I just understood him. He lost his family like me, was looking for acceptance. He just went about it in a destructive way. He didn't think asking nicely was going to get him anywhere. He all but admitted he had feelings for me too." She wouldn't meet his eyes. Steve realized he was clenching his pen so tightly that his knuckles were white. He loosened his grip. Aspen noticed the motion.

"Well that I can get," he said.

Aspen finally looked up at him. "What?"

"I can get why he would like you," he completed his thought, his cheeks warming at his words. Aspen blushed too and looked away again. "You were the only one who kept giving him second chances." Aspen frowned, and he realized that hadn't come out sounding right. "I mean, you're the one person who tried to understand him, to help him."

"And came out looking a fool for it."

"I don't think that," he told her. When she didn't look at him, he touched her arm. "Hey, you know I'd never think that about you."

"I know," she said, but she still wouldn't look at him. He wanted to kick himself for upsetting her, but he knew her emotions were on overdrive right now what with everything going on in her life. He sat back and let her be. Finally she turned and looked at his drawing. "Will you finish it?" she asked quietly. He smiled.

"Of course."

"I wonder if I'd look good in a cape…"

Steve grinned. "There's only one way to find out." He continued sketching, adding in a flowing cape that cascaded around the sketched Aspen. He watched as her grin grew. Finally he finished and handed the drawing to her. "What do you think?"

She nodded resolutely. "I'm putting a request in," she said. "You get your shield, Clint gets his bow, I'm getting a cape."