Sometimes, being me isn't too easy. Sometimes I just need to clear my head, not even clear it. Fill it. Fill it with the information I'm missing, fill it with the things that I don't know. So in a way, when I'm stressed, I learn. I haven't needed to do it since I escaped. Well, that's how I got into that pickle in the first place, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong. Now I'm battling with myself to decide whether or not to go with my gut which is telling me no, or with my head who is screaming yes.

          I'm suddenly snapped out of my day dream when the waitress places down my plate in front of me. For a moment, I had forgotten that I was even at a restaurant. My thoughts begin to settle when she begins talking. "

"Do you want the bill?" she asks.

I stutter my words as I blink and look up, "Yes, yes of course, thank you" I respond.

          As she trots off, I stare down at my plate, then at the wall where a clock hangs. Time really does fly when your day-dreaming. I got here at midnight and it's now nearly 2 o'clock in the morning. How could I let this much time get away from me? After I eat and pay, I'll take a walk. I don't eat much and completely over tip the waitress. When I saunter out the door, I pull my hat over my eyes and as an added precaution, I whip on some sunglasses. Even if it's the wee hours of the morning, you never know who might be out.

           Once I turn the corner, I can spot the Washington Monument in the distance. It's such a beautiful building, it's not even really a building, it's just a tall slab of cement with a pointed top. But it means so much more than that to people. I wonder how people can see a simple object as something more symbolic? The walk I decide to take is not a short one. For some reason I feel myself being pulled towards that pointed slab of cement. Time passes and I start to see streaks of red and orange colour the sky. I wish that the sun would never rise all the way, so that I could stare at it all day long. But something isn't beautiful because it lasts.

          I slowly creep up to my destination and sit on a small hill, a little ways from the monument. The sky is still coloured with red and orange, so I decide to lie down and enjoy it's beauty while its here. I take off my hat and sunglasses and lay them next to me. I link my fingers in behind my head and just stare up to the sky. My eyes feel so heavy, so I let them close, but I don't sleep, instead I listen to the noises of the dawn. The crickets quietly waiting for their shift to finish, the cool wind that makes the trees rustle and..."On your Left"? I sit up after I hear the phrase several times. I look towards the sidewalk that circles the water near the monument to see two men jogging. Actually one man's jogging, the other looks as though he's sprinting?

           He'll be slowing soon. I think to myself as I watch the blonde pass the other man. The blonde is well built, tall and that's about all I can see from my current vantage point. The other man has short dark brown hair, dark skin and I believe facial hair. They're are both quite amusing. My previous thought of the blonde slowing down has not happened yet, he still keeps the same pace.

Who is he?

          I'm oddly enthralled by the blonde. Not because of looks or athleticism, but the aura that he projects. There is no real way for me to articulate it but there's something, something that makes me want to know more about him.

          Even more time passes as I watch the two continue running. I become so oblivious to the lapse of time that I don't notice the red and orange vanish from the sky and be replaced by light blue and white. Then, in the distance I notice that they stop slowly and begin to walk towards a green patch near the road. I can't let them leave without knowing their names. I suddenly get up from my spot and start to sprint.

          Luckily I get to them before they have a chance to leave. I begin to walk when I'm about 400m away and can clearly see them. I duck behind a tree and pull on my hat again. I feel like a stalker. However, I did just watch them run for half an hour, so I'm definitely passed stalker. I lean against the tree and listen as they talk.

Now I'm eavesdropping too, I'm a real lunatic.

"What unit are you with?" The blonde asked pointing towards the other man's sweat shirt.

They're army? That's the only explanation.

"38th Para Rescue, but now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson" the brunette said reaching out his arm, from his spot where he was sitting.

"Steve Rogers" the blonde said as he helped Wilson up.

          Steve Rogers, why did I know that name? Where have I seen his face before? I've seen it, I just can't place it. Then I recall the papers, I remember the headlines now. It was just after I got out, I was in a bar and his face was on the news, he's an Avenger. That means...he works for SHIELD.

He mentioned him before, the war hero, his idol. Now I knew that I needed to know more about Steve Rogers.

          The two continued talking, mentioning something about their beds and sleeping on rocks. I kind of blanked, as I was trying to focus on how I was going to get more information on Steve Rogers. I knew what I had to do. A moment later a black sports car pulled up and the voice inside made a joke about picking up a fossil. I like her sense of humour. The next moment, Steve Rogers was stepping in and they were zooming off down the street.

Wilson starts to walk towards the crosswalk, so I make my move. Stay calm, who are going to be?

"Sam Wilson?" I ask, Sam turns around immediately and gives me a sideways glance, probably because of my accent, then he gives me a little smirk, great.

"That's me, don't wear it out. Who are you?" he says, a cheeky grin planting itself from ear to ear.

Name, name, what's your name? "Meagan Perry, reporter. I'm writing this column for the post about Veterans Affairs and a friend of mine told me to come talk to you" I lie convincingly and whip out my phone to 'take notes'.

Wilson buys it.

"What would you like to know?" he says with another cheeky grin. This guy is either flirting, or really likes smiling, I think to myself and return his grin with a smaller one.

"Well, what does it feel like when you have to listen to everybody's stories all day? How do you carry that burden?" I ask.

He begins to ponder my question before he responds.

Our conversation continues in question answer format, until I stealthily pop in a comment about how he met Steve Rogers.

          Sam was extremely helpful, giving me plenty of information to go on about Mr. Rogers. My next step was to find out why everyone thought this man was so amazing. I bid my fair wells to Sam and in the end I got his number if I had anymore 'questions'. I felt bad about lying to Sam, but I had to do what I had to do. So I cross the street and hail a cab. I'm definitely not walking all the way home, my legs are killing me!

I step into the cab and watch Sam glance at me through the window and once again smile at me, he is definitely flirting. Wonderful. I look to the cabbie as he asks where I'm heading, I give him the address and he smiles.

"You're from England?" he asks, referring to my accent, I nod and sit back in the seat, then I steal a glance at myself in the rear view mirror.

My grey eyes stare back at me as a wisp of my bleach blonde hair dances in front of my face. My slender nose and rosy cheeks compliment my face and give me a more mature look for my 31 years of age. Why am I doing this? All this lying, just to find out about a 95 year old super soldier. I need a life, well this is my life. I can't be employed because of well, that's another story and my family thinks I'm well, that's another story too. I've never been good at making friends and well I'm just a little odd.

All my day dreaming, made me oblivious to the fact that we were in front of my apartment. I pay the cabbie and hop out, I stand there for a second. I'm going to have to leave soon, that's too bad, I like Washington. That's why I need to know about him now, so that in a week, I'm not too far away to find out.

I use the elevator to get to my floor. Once the elevator dings I step out and turn left and go down the hall until I'm at my apartment. I turn the key in the lock until there's a click, I push in my door and place my stuff on my kitchen table. My apartment doesn't really have much in it, a mini fridge filled with take out, my duffle bag of clothes, some keepsakes, odd furniture that doesn't match, my luxury sleeping bag and my trusty laptop. Why do I even bother settling in a place when I know I'll have to leave. It's better that I move around more, so that I know they won't find me. Or at least I hope they won't.

I sit down at my kitchen table, pull out some leftover sushi, grab my laptop and let my fingers fly.