I woke up to the sound of a car engine humming in the background and voices whispering. My eyes fluttered open, and I glanced around warily. I was in the backseat of a sedan, and Steve was upfront with Natasha, who was driving. Where the hell had she come from?
"Uh- where the hell are we and what happened?" I demanded as I sat up in the seat. They both turned in surprise, not realizing I was conscious. Nat focused back on the road.
"I dug us out of the ruble and carried you until I knew we were far enough away from the camp and the STRIKE team that showed up. I called Nat for a ride. We're back in D.C.," Steve explained. He was covered in dirt and looked exhausted.
Then I remembered the building falling on top of us and something hitting my head. Taken down by a rock. I groaned and tossed my head against the seat, gasping at the sharp pain when I did.
"Son of a bitch," I cussed, touching the back of my head. There was barely any blood, so I'd probably be fine. It just hurt like hell.
"Watch your language," Steve teased. I narrowed my eyes at him and clicked my tongue in disapproval. Nat snickered and turned onto a residential road. I glanced around in confusion.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"A friend's place. We just have to park the car away from the house in case it's found," Steve relayed. Natasha parked the car and we all climbed out. It was still dark out with the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, so we wouldn't be noticed easily.
"You have friends?" I joked, falling into step next to Steve. Natasha was on his other side.
He scoffed, "That's rude. Natasha is my friend. Aren't you?"
"If that's what you want me to be," she smirked, shaking her head at us. Steve grinned down at me in triumph, and I rolled my eyes dramatically at him.
There was a loud crash somewhere behind us and we all jumped and turned. There was nothing there. We picked up the pace.
"It was probably just a raccoon," Nat suggested, looking over her shoulder again. I nodded, and we kept silent the rest of the way, too paranoid to make any more noise.
Finally, we went down a small alley and into someone's backyard. We had made it. Hopefully, Steve's friend wouldn't turn us away. We all crammed onto the steps and Steve knocked cautiously.
A tall, dark-skinned man opened the door and peered at us all curiously. He had a well-kept, short beard and goatee, and dark eyes that looked as if they had seen too much. There was sweat on his forehead as if he had just gotten done exercising.
"Hey, man," he greeted.
"I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low," Steve told him quietly. You could hear the guilt in his voice for even asking.
"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," I informed him, pressing closer to Natasha. The man paused, staring at each one of us in turn. I didn't know what he saw. Dirty, beaten-up victims that needed help? Or cunning fugitives that would just drag him down as well? Either way, he let us in.
"Not everyone."
We scrambled through the sliding door, and he locked it behind him, checking that no one was watching and dropped the blinds.
"The name's Sam Wilson," he finally introduced himself to Natasha and me.
"Natasha Romanoff," Nat said as she crossed her arms against her chest, taking in her surroundings. I chuckled internally at her intentional lack of social skills.
"I'm Melanie Stark," I greeted, offering my hand. He took it and we shook briefly. He eyeballed Steve and grinned before glancing back at me.
"Where are you hiding all these ladies' man?" Sam joked with him, "The famous super spy and a Stark? You hang around an interesting group." Steve chuckled and shrugged his shoulders in a what-are-you-gonna-do type of way. Natasha and I exchanged a glance and rolled our eyes in unison.
Sam led me and Steve to a spare bedroom that had a bathroom attached so that we could get cleaned up. Natasha had managed to swipe clothes for us and handed over the bag to Steve. Sam left us alone and shut the door behind him.
I went in first and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, which was covered in cuts and blood. Honestly, I looked like the walking dead. I grimaced and stripped down to get in the shower, careful not to rub the cuts too hard and make them bleed again.
Once we both had showered, Steve helped me clean the cut on the back of my head with a first-aid kit to ensure that it didn't get infected. When he was done, he plopped next to me on the bed, looking cute with his wet hair spiked up everywhere from towel drying it.
"You, okay?" he asked, holding onto my hand.
"I'm fine. It's just... everything they created and worked for was a lie. Everything we've worked for is a lie," I said solemnly. It was all I could think about. Steve knew who I was referring to.
"Maybe, but we can't let that deter us from doing what's right. We have to figure out Hydra's plan and stop whatever it is. You're still you, and I'm still me. That hasn't changed, no matter who we were technically working for," he reassured me. I nodded silently. His optimism was admirable and one of the things that I adored about him. I couldn't help but feel that something had shifted; I just couldn't quite grasp what.
"Thank you, once again, for saving my ass," I smirked up at him, changing the subject.
"Anytime, baby," he gave a small smile and leaned down to kiss me softly. There was a knock on the door, and someone cleared their throat. Busted. It was Sam.
"I made breakfast. If you guys...eat that sort of thing," he told us, cocking an eyebrow in interest. I jumped up and pulled Steve with me. I was starving, so we followed him back to the kitchen. Natasha was leaning against the counter, lost in thought.
Steve had told her everything that happened in the bunker and she, in turn, had informed Sam while we were cleaning up. She was devastated by the truth; I could see it in her face as she stared off into space. Before I sat, I reached out and embraced her. She allowed it and even returned the gesture.
"So, the question is: who in S.H.I.E.L.D could launch a domestic missile strike?" she asked as soon as Steve and I sat. It wasn't surprising that she would shove her own feelings aside to jump right into the dilemma at hand.
"Pierce," I sneered. I knew there was something sketchy about him.
"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world."
"But he's not working alone, Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star," Steve added. No one had yet to touch any of the food, but I wasn't going to wait any longer. I piled food onto my plate and consumed it faster than humanly possible.
"So was Jasper Sitwell."
"So, the real question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D officer in broad daylight?" Steve huffed.
"The answer is... you don't," Sam said, dropping a file in front of Steve.
"What's this?"
"Call it a resume."
I picked up the file curiously and pulled out a picture of Sam and another uniformed man in Afghanistan. Nat leaned over my shoulder and perked up in interest.
"Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you," she realized, impressed, before turning to Steve, "You didn't say he was a para-rescue."
"Is this Riley?" Steve asked as he looked at the picture. I had no clue who Riley was, but figured it was someone Sam had lost from the expression on his face.
"Yeah," Sam replied sadly.
"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use, a stealth chute?" Natasha inquired.
"No. These," Sam smiled a bit and handed the file to Steve. It was a classified project called "Falcon". There was another picture in this file. This one was of a set of high-tech wings. I whistled, impressed.
"I thought you said you were a pilot," Steve said in astonishment.
"I never said pilot," Sam argued, grinning back at him.
"I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason."
"Dude, Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in."
"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?" Steve finally asked, giving in.
"The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall," he informed us cautiously. Steve glanced between Natasha and I. Nat shrugged her shoulders and I nodded simply.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Steve announced.