Ch. 7

The next few hours were a blur of activity. Steve took the ambulance with Sam to the hospital while Alma stayed behind with the swarms of local police to make sure that all of their attackers were processed properly. Steve didn't want to have Alma out of his sight, still not fully trusting her, but the police were insistent that at least one of them stay behind to help process all of the wounded and beaten thugs. Alma grabbed his phone, programmed her number in it and told him to call her in a few hours when she should be done with the numerous police interrogations.

Once Sam had been stabilized, Steve called and left a message on her phone. He idly wondered if she would even bother calling back. Perhaps she was in the wind. She had been right. Having him and Sam follow her had blown her cover and put her danger. For all he knew, she was half-way to any number of exotic destinations.

Steve winced when he thought about Sam. From the beginning, he had proven to be a selfless friend, taking him and Natasha in when Hydra was after them, helping to bring down the hellcarriers, coming on this mission to find Bucky. And how had Steve paid him back? Letting him get shot.

Steve replayed the gunfight again and again in his head, berating himself for not covering Sam better. He had spent so much time fighting with his shield as a defensive weapon, it had been hard to adapt to leaving it behind. When they were trailing Alma, Steve hadn't thought he'd need it, and so it was safe, back at their hotel, completely useless to him.

He spent the next hour pacing the wide halls of the hospital. Whenever he sat down to try to figure out his next move, the images of Sam bleeding on the dirty concrete or Bucky falling to his certain death in the snow would replay themselves in his head. People had put their trust in him and he had failed him.

His mind went back to Bucky and he shuddered to think at what his friend had been through. Steve held out hope that there was still a shred of his old friend in there. His memory was hazy, but he was sure it was Bucky that had fished him out of the Potomac, had saved his life. If that was true, it meant that there was still a chance to bring him back.

00000

Steve was surprised when he went back to the main waiting room and saw Alma curled up on one of the large chairs, fast asleep. She looked strangely younger when she slept; her hard edges softened. She seemed more delicate, more carefree, the weight of her life and her work lifted in sleep. He almost hated to wake her up, to see the anger and mistrust once again burn in her eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to startle her.

She awoke and stretched, a look of concern on her face. "How's he doing?" she asked hesitantly.

"Good. Out of surgery. They got the bullet out. With a little physical therapy, he'll be as good as new. He was lucky." Steve tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he knew that it looked forced.

"I am truly sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. I really didn't want anyone to get hurt," she insisted, guilt dripping from every word.

Steve shrugged, sitting down next to her in the padded chair. He had wanted to lay into her, still angry about the ambush, but seeing the wretched look on her face, he resisted, deciding to change the subject instead. "Who were those men?"

"They were Moreno's guys. Arturo Moreno. I spent a year undercover in a big sting investigation against him. He was selling a drug that mimicked the effects of your super-serum, to an extent."

"To an extent?" he asked.

"They would make someone feel like they were as strong as you are, but they weren't. Weightlifters, runners, long jumpers, everyone loved the feeling. Feeling strong, feeling powerful. The problem was, it wasn't real. People pushed themselves too far, tore their own tendons away from the bone, split their own skin trying to do things their bodies just couldn't handle. But, it was addictive. No one wants to feel weak. Everyone wants to be Captain America," she said ruefully.

Steve winced. He knew just how addictive it was. For years after getting the serum, he had nightmares where somehow the process would reverse itself and he'd wind up a sickly, shrunken weakling again. The years of pain and sickness he endured as a child and teenager were never far from his thoughts. He could understand, better than anyone, the lengths that someone would go through not to feel that way again.

"What happened?," he asked.

"After all those months of investigation, we eventually got him. We went through the court system, convicted him, and sent him away for years."

"Then, why is he out?" Steve demanded, his anger flaring.

She shook her head and gave him a disgusted look. "You, Rogers. All past S.H.I.E.L.D. convictions are suspect now. Thousands of criminals are pleading their cases all around the world, saying that is was really Hydra railroading them, manufacturing evidence against them. Everyone I've ever put away will be let loose on the world. Ten years of work thrown away. Ten years of my life wasted."

"Oh," Steve said softly.

"So, you see why I wasn't your biggest fan when I met you," Alma said quietly.

"And now?" Steve asked hopefully.

"You're growing on me," Alma said lightly. "You did save my life a couple of times. However, I have to point out, I wouldn't have been in danger if not for you."

Steve smiled, at least she was warming up to him somewhat.

"So, are you still up for getting the information from Pavlov?" she asked briskly.

"Yes," Steve said firmly.