"Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"

"Nazi Germany." He smirks, knowing full well he's feeding into Nat's amusement of him being anything other than purely virtuous. But just as quickly as we fled the scene, his eyes snap to reflect back the urgency of the situation, like the lifespan of his confidence would be disastrous if it lived more than two seconds.

"And we're borrowing it," He shoots her a now humorless look. "Take your feet off the dash."

Her eyes peer over her shoulder to find me in the backseat, hoping to see me just as entertained as she is. Slowly taking one foot off the dashboard before the other, she flashes him a playful grin, thoroughly pleased with every little reaction she can get out of him.

Leaving the apple store had been more difficult than expected. We knew as soon as we accessed the data on the drive our location would be sent out to those hunting for it, so we took our chances on our trigger friendly acquaintances not opening fire in a public mall. They fortunately didn't spot us, or blow anyone up, thanks to Nat and Steve hiding between each others lips. How convenient for them.

We weren't able to get much from the drive. The data was encrypted with an algorithm that kept recoding the information with each of Nat's attempts to break the firewall, but we were able to get the location of where the very algorithm is being launched from.

I really doubt they minded the idea of a little road trip, considering the spirit of their kiss still lingers in the air.

You could certainly tell it was their first time showing each other that much affection, which took me by surprise. With the way they act with each other, you would think they were just married and awaiting their first kid. Yet somehow, within the first second their lips finally collided, Nat became less confident, less herself, like she has indulged in something exceedingly foreign. Something she deemed forbidden for herself.

And him. The man who suddenly has my complete interest. He was hesitant, understandably taken back by the sudden gesture necessary for the mission, but hesitant in a way where he felt any move from then on would cost him his red, white, and blue stripes.

He pulled her close like she was a glass doll, wrapping his hands around her waist gently like she would break under his touch. Perhaps the illusion of boyish innocence was enough to cast the thought to everyone in our surroundings, but something in him showed me the absence of that ignorance.

It's intriguing to realize you've just cracked the spine of a book that you thought had been read to its entirety ten times over. I have yet to determine whether he is more scared of himself or for himself, especially when dealing with her.

He holds way more than he chooses to deal out. I don't know if he has realized that yet.

The beautiful delusion of civilization is molded and promoted within a pair of ocean blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. Isn't that scary? The trust he is given. The responsibility. The authority that is begged to be in his hands. His name alone radiates a respected purity that lures citizens into followers before they even have a chance to distinguish choice from submission. He holds that beautiful thing even the most cynical hate to love.

The chance for redemption. A way to live, nonetheless unapologetically.

But does he believe in what he is?

There is extraordinary power in that shield of his. It's branded symbol and shear strength. Yet he uses it sparingly. Maybe he has seen what he is capable of and found it replusing. Maybe he values the comfort of others over his full potential. Maybe he thinks she will bring out that darkness he wants to keep hidden. He doesn't trust himself like others do because maybe he knows just to what extent he can ruin it all.

Either option is of pure intent and I can't help but laugh. There's only one reason I would be angry with such light and its because it holds potential for something I cannot fall.

True power.

She speaks after a few minutes, probably realizing she's been smiling at him for a little too long. "Alright, I have a question for you, which you do not have to answer, but I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it-"

"What, Nat?"

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

He laughs breathily, working through the forwardness and slight embarrassment. "That bad, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying-"

"No, I didn't. I just wondered how much practice you've had-"

"You don't need practice-"

"Everybody needs practice."

He sighs into a smile, keeping his focus on the road ahead of him. "It was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm ninety-five, I'm not dead."

Satisfied enough in the answer, she sinks into the seat and relaxes her shoulders. She rolls her head lazily to face him as her eyes scan every detail of his face once more.

"Nobody special, though?"

His smile falls slightly. Not necessarily somber, but softer. "Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience."

Her eyes pave a smooth path between his eyes and lips before ensuring a momentary lull in conversation, rolling her head to the other side to look out the window. Watching the passing trees, she brings her finger between her teeth, biting down on the nail as she gets lost in thought.

There is a lot she could say right now. Her words would be sure to comfort him. Stories of loss, triumph, regret. She has lived lifetimes in just her childhood. They have more in common than one may think, even if they seem to be each others polars. Don't polars always have the most in common, though?

But it is for just that reason that she has kept her lips sealed all this time, uttering no truth of her past or anything too intimate.

It ruins one's sense of self to know they share ideals with those they choose to fight against their entire life. They work hard to differentiate from the morals of those marinated in sin. It's paralyzing, even demoralizing when they acknowledge they are in some parts the enemy.

She will argue that she is protecting him because of that, but we both know why she won't let herself open up. She holds him so high to an esteem he would never consider himself worthy of. And at the same time, she believes herself so destructive like any wrong word would shatter everything he is. His light is something she longs for deeply, even though she would never admit that. She thinks herself undeserving of his compassion. For his sake.

So imagine my surprise when she stares to the trees a little longer than she should, seemingly contemplating whether or not she would share a genuine part of herself.

She meets my eyes in the wing mirror at the end of her last thought. I couldn't say what my expression looked like, but it was enough for her to make her decision. She rolls her head back over to the drivers side, her usual calculating look taking over her brief moment of malleability.

"Well, that's alright," Her voice overly asserts itself in attempt to mask herself again, "you just make something up."

"What, like you?"

Her face falls for just a second before she shrugs the comment off. "I don't know. The truth is a matter of circumstances, it's not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I."

"That's a tough way to live."

"It's a good way not to die, though."

Steve meets her gaze, almost mad at himself that he holds a sense of understanding. "You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."

She smiles.

Her lips curl effortlessly. The absence of force makes it almost vulnerable, like she allowed herself to just be without being. She gleefully drops her mask for a white flag, like she had given up everything for a moment. Just for his trust.

She speaks softly, almost a whisper, as she keeps her eyes locked on his profile. "Who do you want me to be?"

It's like all the air has been sucked out of the car. He lets the moment have it's silence, like he is appreciating every second of the question he has probably been wanting so shamefully. The opportunity to ask her to be more than she is. To stop making it so hard on him to want to be someone for the people rather than someone for himself. Perhaps if she were like him, not an assassin with her own code of morals, he would be less tempted to let himself go. But it seemed like in that moment, he wouldn't want to be sitting next to any other version of this woman. Maybe he had grown to like her nasty wit or her mischievous unpredictability. Maybe he had accepted her as an unchanging being.

As another second passes, I would bet millions on just the way he looks at her with such despair, that he had acknowledged the 'darkness' in himself not synonymous with utter destruction. It seems like he mistakes power with darkness. As much as I hate to admit it, there is power that is suitable enough for a reign. Not all power is corrupt.

Maybe. Just maybe.

He turns his head as if he had just made a life decision. "How about a friend?"

Protecting him once more, and to keep a silent concern she has never expressed before, she has hoped she had nothing to do with influencing any change in him.

"Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers."

At the end, they are both able to see themselves in each other. She wants to change, not necessarily to my surprise, but she does not want to change him in the process.

I bring my fingers to my temples, applying a lot more pressure than is necessary. I'll blame the painfully silent moments in the conversation for this headache. Or maybe it's because I just spent the last five minutes psychoanalyzing these two because of my own boredom. Maybe I'm trying to compensate for the loss of the one I loved to pick apart. How is it that the only truly interesting person I knew killed himself? It's not fair.

Sorry for my loss indeed.

I reach the buttons of the radio from the backseat, drawing a barrier between the two. I don't think my presence has ever been more apparent than it that moment, and that's saying something to the ruins of empires.

... ... ...

Our road trip didn't go over too well.

The door in front of us opens with more confidence than it should have and surprisingly didn't shut right in our ash and blood covered faces. The man stands there just looking at us for a good five seconds.

"You all look like shit."

Steve extends his arm to shake the guys hand. "Hey Sam, I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low."

Skipping all niceties, Nat steps in front of Cap to take back the control she feels she lost. "Everyone we know is trying to kill us."

He smiles down at us, probably not intending to show how entertained he is by the sight, but nonetheless it shows he's a willing participant in whatever game he's becoming involved in.

"Not everybody. Come in."

Steve ushers us in as he looks over his shoulder to make sure we weren't followed. If we had any reason to doubt why we were on the run before, that was gone. We were being hunted like animals.

I need to find a way to redeem points for all the enemies I make.

I start to shake as much dirt as I can off of me before i enter further, but my sneakers have already left a trail. I smile weakly at Sam. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." He speaks through a slight laugh, obviously amused. "Here, let me."

Before I could answer, he's down on one knee unlacing my shoes. Nat rolls her eyes to solidify this as one of the most patronizing experiences I've ever had.

"Does Steve do this for you?" I mouth, quickly getting a flip of her middle finger.

Sam stands up and meets me eye to eye, still smiling that almost arrogant smile. "That's better."

"Are you gonna clean them too?"

He laughs. "I can't be too nice. You might fall in love."

"Nice is a little bit of a turn off." I brush past his rather broad frame to meet Cap at the large dining table. He's been on high alert since we left the base in Jersey. Not looking to waste any more time, he sits down and prompts us all to do the same.

"Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He was the brains of HYDRA that should have died with the fall of the organization. But apparently he is very much alive. And so is HYDRA."

We all take our settle down in our seats with him at the head of the table, like he was briefing us for our next war.

"When Nat, Safiya and I tracked down the location of the drive's algorithm, we found the doctors mind had been preserved. He is the algorithm, existing in a series of computers. For years, he's been building a new HYDRA."

Sam shuffles in his seat. I have no knowledge of who is really is other than a guy who can untie a shoe in under two seconds, but he must have been familiar with HYDRA and their history.

"A new HYDRA? Did they come back just because they heard you're alive?"

Nat speaks before Steve goes to talk. "HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. They didn't account for the fact that if you try to take that freedom away, people will resist, especially when you have a red, white, and blue super soldier mascot leading the protest."

If Steve's face didn't tense as much as it did, we would all have bursted out laughing, but his stone cold expression sent our amusement right back down our throats.

Nat clears her throat and continues. "They found that humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After World War II and the initial fall of HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded and the doctor jumped on board. The new HYDRA grew from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s first day as a beautiful parasite. For seventy years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed."

Sam persisted with his suspicions. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. operates the complete opposite of HYDRA. How did that work?"

"HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity would finally be ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. They are using Fury's Project Insight as a cover for whatever they are planning. He described it as some kind of "purification process". Probably a missile strike knowing some of the details of the project."

Cap comes off the back of his chair to engage back in conversation. "Before we could get any further, we were tracked again by HYDRA operatives and they basically tried to blow us up."

"So essentially global oppression?" Sam crosses his arms around his chest and takes a deep breath in.

"Safiya will agree it's not necessarily a new concept." Nat smirks, putting all eyes on me. "And now I'm even more glad she's here. Not only does she get off on this shit, but it's her speciality. If anyone can take down a reign like this, it's her."

Sam's sportive look was quickly in tact when he looks to me. "What are you? James bond or Blofeld?"

I bite down on my cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of a laugh. "Maybe someone in between. And what are you?"

"I was a boy scout when I was younger."

"Thank you for your service."

He grins as he stands, making his way to the kitchen. "Here's my resume so to speak. Give or take a few famous skills." He winks as he drops a computer in front of Nat.

She gives a puzzled look as her fingers apprehensively start to type. "Why would a boy scout need to encrypt his resume?" She peers her eyes over the computer. "It has more blocks than the drive."

Steve leans in closer to the computer, as if the fresh eyes of a 95 year old man would be able to catch something she couldn't. "Can break through?"

"That's insulting."

Nat quickly moves her fingers across the keyboard, extinguishing any firewall in her path.

Suddenly, her eyes grow wide, having cracked through in record time.

"Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?" She turns to Steve amused. "You didn't say he was a para-rescue."

Having recognized the mission, I couldn't help but get a little excited. "I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use, a stealth chute?"

He comes back to the table with a file, reluctantly placing it in front of Steve. "No. These."

Steve studies the paper for a few seconds before sliding it over to me. They're a fucking pair wings.

Mechanical, obviously, but I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Then again, they could do as much damage as said in that resume, I'd wear them too.

"I thought you said you were a pilot."

"I never said pilot."

Steve shakes his head to himself before throwing himself back in his seat. "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."

He smiles grudgingly, still unsure of his decision to involve him. "Where can we get our hands on one of these things?"

"The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall."

Steve brings his eyes to me and Nat, alternating between us both for reassurance. I shrug my shoulders, not seeing any real obstacles. We must have had the same reaction because he laughed and closed the file like it's a done deal.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

... ... ...

After a few stories about Sam fighting people as a bird--I'm sorry--Falcon, as he so incessantly persists, we all start to head to bed.

Nat immediately passed out in the back bedroom and Sam went to his office, leaving Steve and I in the dining area. I move to the kitchen make tea, shamelessly rummaging through the cabinets. After the day we had, I didn't have energy to consider any invasion of privacy or something.

There was a silence in the room that made me unsure of whether to speak or leave. We are still strangers to each other, but he saved me today. Put value in my life. All of that stuff. That's enough to be okay, right?

I decided to stay with intentions of breaking the silence and the ice.

"Want a cup?"

He looks up from his own thoughts, almost thrown off guard at the fact there was someone in the room.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

I make two cups and set one in front of him, settling into the seat across the table. He smiles as he grabs the handle, bringing it up to take a sip. "I didn't take you as a tea drinker."

"Oh?"

"I'm still convinced you and Natasha operate on motor oil."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I thought the same thing about you."

There was a silence again that maybe lingered a little longer than it should, but then again I couldn't blame him. Before this, we weren't necessarily on the same team. This is weird. It's safe to say we were on the complete opposite sides, but that didn't really matter now. At least not to me. But then again, the traitor doesn't really get to decide that.

"Thanks for today. Helping me out, you know, saving me and all."

Nice.
Not awkward at all.

He looks up from his cup, almost surprised that those words came out of my mouth. "You didn't need me to help. Neither of you did."

"No, I did. I can't take a bomb to the face as much as I would love to say I could." It hurt me a little to admit. "You did save me. You put value on my life and that is currency I don't know how to spend."

He smiles weakily, as if he felt any expression would be a injustice to his true feelings. "You're underestimating yourself."

"So are you."

I bring my spoon around the rim of my cup a few times, stalling a conversation I know we need to have. For my sake and his. I give a soundless sigh before initiating again.

"There was one time where Nat had to make a call. One that could rub people the wrong way."

His head slowly raises to bring attention to my voice, but my eyes stay focused on the tea in my hands.

"I was held at gunpoint, surrounded by over 500 weapons, really having no escape plan. I was kind of screwed. I was about to surrender when Nat walked in. She looked around and saw the situation, but none of them saw her. It could have been a perfect surprise sweep. She could have saved me. But she chose to walk away. And I praise her for it."

I look up to meet his gaze, one slightly confused but not at all repulsed.

"She was able to save over 1000 trafficked girls that day. Most of them were under the age of 8. If the guards hadn't been preoccupied with me, they would have noticed her and all of those girls would have been sold, raped, and killed within the next week. She made a call, one absent of emotion in the best way possible. That's how she works."

He shifts in his seat rather uncomfortably. "I don't understand. And how are you not dead?"

"I figured it out. That's not the point, though." I took a sip and placed it down slowly. "You may have made a different call, but in our world which is similar to yours, but also worlds apart, our type of calls are what have kept us safe. Sometimes, it is better to have no one and be nothing than to have so much to lose."

I continue despite his apparent uneasiness.

"She did what she had to do when something had to be done. And the call was for the right reason. You two have different ways of going about things, but your end goal is always the same. Right now, she's on a path to reform herself and it's actually working. That's something a lot of people don't get the chance to do. She wants it bad enough whether or not she admits it."

His head hangs a little lower, like he has struggled with the weight in this argument for a while. "I trust her. I tell myself I trust her. Maybe those are two different things." He shakes his head to himself. "I want to trust her."

"It's a difficult adjustment, but It's obvious to see that she is trying. It scares me, because she is acting more emotional. We don't do that. At least we don't try to. The last time she did--she spared someone who shouldn't have been spared." I quickly brush past the memory. "This is uncharted territory for her to do this on an everyday basis. I'm afraid to leave her again, but I need to after this and I hate to admit it Mr. America but I need your help on Project Nat. It's teamup time."

To my surprise, he laughs a little in response.

"Be patient with her, please. Trust her. I've never seen her try so hard with anyone else."

He smiles like he hadn't meant to, moving his head down and lifting his cup up to his lips. "Before we team up, you have to forgive me for being sent to kill you."

"You didn't kill me so I think we're okay."

"Touché."

The silence this time is much less awkward. It's almost a comfort I could bask in for a little, but of course, I would never allow myself that luxury. Besides, the silence would only bring me to my own problems. God forbid I have to think about them. Yet, if it were up to a certain god, he would torture me with them every second. It seems he already is.

I continue to stir my tea, but this time I have more ammunition to speak. "I have a question and you don't have to answer it--"

"Is it really so hard to believe that wasn't my first kiss since 1945?"

"No, no that's not it." I speak through a laugh that falls a little too quick for his comfort. "We don't have to talk about it, but you may have some insight no one else does."

He leans off the back of his chair, seemingly more interested. "What is it?"

"The tesseract..I know it's first significant surfacing was in World War II as HYDRA's secret weapon. You fought against it."

He tensed up a little, the muscle in his jaw flexing to keep some composure. "I did. It should be destroyed in my opinion. It should have been before it even got a chance to show a second time."

There was an unintentional silence. My fault. I take a much needed breath in.

"Why do you think he wanted it?"

It takes him a few moments to realize who I'm alluding to, but his face shows no relaxation in the revelation. "Loki? I feel like that's clear."

"I think he wants it to be that clear." I blurt the words out like I had been holding them in for years. "From my understanding it was taken from Asgard a long time ago. He could have come for it any time since then. Why now? And did he even use it to its full potential?"

"I don't believe I've seen it's power at its full potential, but he did a hell of a lot in New York." He looks deeper into my eyes than he ever has. If it wasn't him I would think it was intimidating. "Are you trying to find a defense for him?

"I'm trying to understand it. The timing of it all seems to concern me more than his plans for whatever power trip he was on."

"Timing?"

I lean back into my chair and bring my hand gently under my chin. "It all feels off. His plan..the way the world is right now...I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something."

He finishes his drink before speaking. "I wouldn't stress yourself over it. He's gone and the tesseract is locked away somewhere in Asgard. I don't think there's anything out there stronger than this new HYDRA right now."

I conjure up a smile. My mind goes back to the reappearance of the Aether, to Odin's library, to him, to the kiss.

Too far.
Get it together

Steve is not that naive, but I should have considered how late we started this conversation. With that, he stands up and takes both of our cups into the sink.

"Get some sleep. We have more breaking in and entering to do tomorrow." He gently placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you by the way."

I nod as he pulls away to start making up the couch. I find the bathroom and take a quick shower, noticing after that Sam had threw in one of his long shirts with a note on top.

"I didn't see anything.
Find me if you wanted me to."
-Falcon, nothing else

My eyes roll instinctively, but can't help the laugh. I find the back bedroom and crawl in next to Natasha. The feeling of this bed right now could never be replaced. I can't remember the last good sleep I've had. I can't even remember the last time I slept in general.

I pull the blanket over my shoulders, but the resistance from her end was ten times stronger.

"If you take my blanket I will literally smother you with this pillow."

Despite my life, I tug again, but I'll admit a little gentler. "Sweet dreams."