Ch. 22
Steve woke up, his neck aching from being bent over. He head was fuzzy from the lack of sleep, but he couldn't help but grin. He'd had another dream about Alma and although he couldn't for the life of him remember any of the details, he did remember that it was incredibly pleasant.
He looked dully around the room before it registered where he was. Alma's room. He glanced over at the unmade bed and saw that it was empty, a hand-written note lying on one of the pillows. He stood up from the chair he had been slumped over in and his back protested as he leaned over to grab the paper. He flicked a glance over to the alarm clock, giving a little sigh when he saw the time, well past ten. He was going to have to get a decent night's sleep sometime soon.
As he read the sloping, gentle curves of her writing, he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It was hardly a declaration of love, but the tone was kind and sweet. He neatly folded it and stuck it in the pocket of his sweats, patting it in an odd gesture of affection. His stomach growled and he decided to head down to the café nearby and get something to eat.
He went to his own room and changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotten knit shirt. After a moment's thought, he transferred the note to the pocket of his jeans. As he tied the laces of his boots, his eyes rested on his cell phone. He had a message on his voicemail.
"Hey, man, get your tail over here. They're springing me early. I don't want to eat another hospital lunch."
Steve smiled, glad that Sam was finally recovered enough to be released.
00000
Steve took the metro to the hospital, walking the few blocks from the metro stop. He figured they'd just take a taxi back to the hotel. The rental car was still at the waterfront, but Steve was wary of going back there and claiming it. He didn't want to chance running into Pavlov's men before he'd met with Alma and formulated a plan.
By the time Steve arrived, Sam was waiting in the lobby for him. Steve shook the hand of the current bodyguard assigned to protect Sam, dismissing him.
"So are you ready to blow this pop stand?"
"You have no idea. I need to get this prescription filled at the pharmacy next door," Sam said.
Steve peered at the piece of paper in Sam's hand, nodding quickly. "Okay, how are do you feel?"
"Actually pretty good. They switched my pain meds, so I'll be more alert, less sleepy."
"That's great," Steve said, relieved his friend was on the mend.
"How'd last night go?" Sam asked.
Steve looked around, making sure that there was no one nearby to overhear them. "Alma was right. It was a set-up. Pavlov knew who I was. He just wanted to nab me to reverse-engineer the super-serum. We escaped the boat, just barely." Steve swallowed hard. "And I found out why Alma's been having such a hard time forgiving me," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Why?" Sam asked.
"She was in the middle of an undercover op and when I released that S.H.I.E.L.D. data, it blew her cover. And the people she was investigating . . . They tortured her . . . . for days. She was unconscious when we reached shore and I thought she'd been hit, so I looked for the bullet wound. When I saw her arms . . . her stomach . . . they were covered in bruises and cuts and . . . " Steve's voice trailed off, not able to continue.
Sam shook his head and winced. "Ah, man, that's rough. No wonder she's been so angry."
"We talked about it . . . later on at the hotel. I hope . . . I hope someday that she'll be able to forgive me."
"Where is she now?" Sam asked.
"When I woke up this morning, she was already gone. Left me a note, saying that she'd be back by noon. I figured we'd just meet her back at the hotel."
"Sounds like a plan. Let's grab my prescription and we'll head back there," Sam said.
00000
An hour later, they were back at the hotel. It took longer than they had anticipated at the pharmacy and Steve was anxious that Alma would arrive back at the hotel and find that he was gone. He tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail.
"She took over my room," Sam observed wryly once they walked inside the hotel room.
"Uh . . . . yeah, sorry about that. We'll figure out rooms later on," Steve said vaguely.
"Hey, man. It's fine. No need to worry," Sam said, dropping his duffel bag on Alma's bed. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. She wrote that she'd be back before noon and it's a quarter past already. I'll try to call her again," Steve said.
He took out his phone, calling her number again, smiling when he saw that it was going through this time.
"Well, if it isn't Captain America," a smooth voice replied.
Steve's heart sank. It wasn't Alma on the other end of the line.
It was Pavlov.
"What are you doing with Alma's phone?" Steve asked severely.
"A better question is what I am doing with Alma," Pavlov replied and Steve could practically hear his smirk over the phone.
"If you hurt her in any way . . . ," Steve threatened.
"Spare me your empty threats. This is what is going to happen. I expect you to surrender yourself at my estate. Come alone. Unarmed."
"Release her," Steve said.
"Not a chance. I saw the way you looked at her. Emotional attachments are a liability in your line of business. I would have thought you'd learned that lesson by now. You got into this whole mess in the first place because you are trying to track down your best friend. Well, you're going to join him in his fate. You'll make an excellent Winter Soldier," Pavlov said cruelly.
"What guarantee do I have that you won't hurt her?" Steve asked.
"You have none. But she's not what I'm interested in. You are. If you come, and are compliant, I'll have no incentive to harm her."
Steve's mind raced. "Alright. I'll be there. Two hours."
"See that you are," Pavlov said before hanging up.
"Was that who I think it was?" Sam asked.
"Yep."
"What are we going to do?" Sam asked.
Steve strode to his room and retrieved his shield and Captain America uniform from under the bed, setting them on top of it. He smiled. He was going to get his big raid after all.
"You and I, we're going to save Alma," Steve said firmly.
Only, that's not exactly what happened.
