Played by the Enemy || Captain America || Book 2

Chapter 24: Found Waldo

Before arriving at Wheaton, I managed to check in on Adelaide and Sam as well as Lewis, but all three of them practically had the same things to say. SHIELD is on lockdown, and a search warrant for Natasha Romanoff and Steven Grant Rogers has been put out. Nothing on me yet thankfully, and Adelaide – being the resourceful yet scary little sister she can be – has been able to hold off inquisitive agents wondering where I've been, informing them that I've fell ill. Apparently, an 'Agent 13' also backed up her story, even though I can't recall having met an Agent 13.

Of course, Tony Stark – being the nosy bastard he is – has left twenty two voicemails and thirty eight text messages, much to the amusement of Natasha, Steve and I. With no small amount of effort, I eventually managed to placate him and make sure he stays out of this, not wanting to condemn him to the fugitive life like the three of us. As far as I know, Tony wasn't involved with the fall of SHIELD and rise of HYDRA, so even though his help would be greatly appreciated, he simply can't get involved, not if this is to turn out like it did before. I can't afford to Barry Allen the timeline again.

Walking around the former military camp feels... nostalgic, for some strange reason. I've never been here before, not once, and somehow it still feels familiar.

Whenever I'm not surveying our surroundings, out of curiosity or to check for incoming hostiles, I cast a glance over at Steve, who looks like he's seeing a ghost everywhere he turns. I smile sadly at the sight, knowing that the soldier in him will always long for this. Long for everything back in 1940's. Long for war.

Huh, I guess that's the biggest difference about us. I can recognise that I love what I do, that despite trying to be normal, I really can't live without fighting and action. Whereas Steve, a man most thinks fight for peace, is actually a soldier who never wants to come home from war. I can acknowledge that I can't leave that behind now, but he has yet admit to himself that he can't either.

"Finding the access point in this place will be like trying to find Waldo in the Sistine Chapel," I snark as we walk, earning a light chuckle from the super soldier and Russian assassin.

Natasha ambles along on an elevated bit of concrete which is the entrance to a building, Steve and I walking alongside her on the dirt ground. A few feet behind the super soldier, I observe him with a watchful eye, not having really known this part of him. The part of him he left back in 1945. The only time I saw it was briefly at the Captain America exhibition, but outside of that, he seems to keep it locked firmly away.

"This camp is where I was trained," he laconically explains after a while, confirming my beliefs and what I had read at the Smithsonian.

Natasha seems only mildly interested, more so focusing on her phone as it reads for any signs of human life in the vicinity. "Change much?"

Steve pauses, coming to a stop and staring absentmindedly into the distance. "A little."

I stop a few feet from him, watching him most likely relive a memory. Another sympathetic smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and even though I feel bad about doing so, I cross the few feet between us and stir him from his reminiscing, knowing that he needs to be fully aware should something pop out at any given moment. "From what I remember reading at that exhibition on you in the Smithsonian, you were quite the soldier, even before the serum. Threw yourself over a dud grenade, wasn't it?"

A short, wistful laugh can be heard after he drags himself from his reverie. "Didn't know it was a dud at the time. Looking back on it though, probably should've known it was. No commanding officer would throw a working grenade at his troops like that."

"But you jumped on it, nonetheless," I point out. "See? Told you that you were Captain America before the serum." I lightly punch his arm in a playful manner, earning another little laugh from the soldier in return. Natasha, however, gives us an update on the situation at hand before he can respond.