Mister Rogers ⍟ || Steve Rogers

7

Steve's embrace wasn't where I came to. I awoke lying flat on my stomach, sunk into the cushions of a leather couch. I didn't know who had saved us, or more importantly, if they were on our side. I stayed still, my eyes closed, and listened to my surroundings.

"I know you're up," I heard Steve. "It's okay. We're safe."

I opened my eyes and turned my head. Steve approached me, holding a glass of water and a towel. He knelt in front of me, nursing the glass carefully to my lips while his other hand compressed the warm cloth against my forehead where the rock had hit me.

"Natasha will be here soon," said Steve, catching the question on my face. "As for where we are right now..."

"I've started the water, she'll probably want to wash up," said an entering man. Sam Wilson. He noticed I was awake and offered a smile. "Hey. I, uh, readied you a shower."

I sighed, relieved to see a familiar face. "That sounds perfect, Sam."

I shut the bathroom door behind me, immediately peeling off my dirtied tank top and dropping it into the sink. My leggings remained intact. I would keep them to wear.

For the sake of time, I cut my shower short. I changed back into my sports bra and leggings before leaving the bathroom, my wet hair falling wavy behind my back. I took the towel with me, patting my hair dry.

Upon reentering the living room, I observed Natasha, Steve, and Sam's heads turn in my presence.

Natasha gave me a quick once-over. "Word of advice: stop trying to get yourself killed, Jones."

"I was trying to help him pry out the shield," I defended.

"It didn't really work out well for you," admitted Steve.

"No, really?" I asked.

He chuckled. "I appreciate the gesture. Next time, let me handle it, alright?"

"Next time? I am never fugitive-ing with you again, Rogers," I said, raising my eyebrows at him.

"We'll see about that," he teased.

I bit back a smile, rolling my eyes. "Still, I'd say we were somewhat successful. We still have the hard drive, don't we?"

No one argued. Sam cleared his throat, "I uh, made breakfast, if you guys eat that sort of thing."

As we gathered in the kitchen, Natasha questioned, "Who at S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?"

Steve's head shot up immediately, turning in Natasha's direction, "Pierce."

"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world," Natasha joked.

"But he's not working alone, since Project Insight was on the Lemurian Star," I added.

"So was Jasper Sitwell."

"So, the real question is, how do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?" Steve scratched his chin as he thought.

Sam left the table and returned with a manila folder, dropping it in the center of the table.

"What's this?" I stood up from my seated position and picked up the folder. Steve did the same, moving closer to me to get a better look.

"Call it a resume," Sam said.

Natasha watched us as we looked through the papers standoffishly. I passed her the items we had looked through. "Is this Bakhmala?" She looked up at Sam, her brow furrowed, "The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?"