America's Soldier

Found

I have been searching for Steve for over a year now. Every time I think I get close, he slips away again. Sam, bless him, has been by my side every step of the way, a shoulder to cry on and the best support to keep me going I could ask for.

We've been going on tips from what's left of SHIELD and a couple of the Avengers. We've also set up some of our own surveillance, and those in combination have gotten us closer and closer as the months pass. Tony has probably been the most helpful, he's the one who knows the most about how much this means to me (besides Sam, again). He's provided us with top-notch intelligence from all over the world, and transportation to get where we need to go.

We didn't go to Sokovia. We're not Avengers, and they handled it without us. It's a shame the Wanda girl died before we got to meet her, but we were halfway across the world and there was no time for us to get there. Also, mind control, not really my thing.

Right now, we're staking out a club. I don't know why, but he seems to be attracted to places with lots of people and dancing. It makes it hard to find him, which, I guess, is the point. 

Sam is on the dance floor, I'm at the bar. Steve can't get drunk, but I know he likes to drink, and I can't dance, but Sam has some moves. So I'm sipping on a bright blue drink, I've already forgotten the name, and chatting with a guy who seems like he's into me. Sam and I are going strong, but he's okay with me keeping up a cover during nights like these. 

There's a bit of a scuffle on the dance floor, and a bouncer has to step in and carry a woman out kicking and screaming. Another takes a guy off to the side, and a member of the bar cleaning staff rushes in to sweep broken glass off the floor. The music continues, and once the dancing kicks back up I turn back to the guy, taking another sip of my drink. A little too salty for my taste, but just strong enough for me to get a bit of a buzz.

"So," I say, trying to remember where we left off in our conversation, "what do you like to do in your free time?"

My mind's a little fuzzier than it should be for one drink. I just barely lean back as the guy on the other side of the one I was talking to fucking decks him. I nearly fall out of my seat with the change in my balance.

Something's wrong, but I can't think right. I feel dizzy and a bit sick. I glance at my drink and then at the guy who punched the one chatting me up.

Steve?

He gets up and steadies me, glaring down at the groaning guy, now on the floor.

"He drugged your drink," Steve says. I blink, and then lean over, retching a little. "Whoa, there. We need to get you medical attention. Where's your boyfriend?"

I make a vague gesture towards the dance floor and Steve darts off, telling the bartender to phone an ambulance and leave the drink where it is. 

I puke on the guy on the floor before he gets back.

Sam rushes over to me as soon as Steve finds him, and by then everything's fuzzy and I don't know what's said.

I remember sirens, and police, and EMTs. I remember Sam and Steve both being by my side. I remember asking Steve not to leave. I don't remember an answer, but I do know that he's there in our hotel room when I wake up.

Apparently the treatment for whatever I was drugged with was given to me, and then I was sent home to be kept under observation. My senses aren't back to normal when I wake up, and I've got a splitting headache, but I know what's going on now. I don't feel like I was just drugged, more like I got a bad hangover and I'm still a little drunk.

I notice Steve eating breakfast. He glances over at me and nudges Sam, who turns and rushes over to me immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, concern lacing his every word.