Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Recovery and Secrets

We walked maybe fifteen feet down a hallway before stepping into a room with a couple small round tables each surrounded by five chairs. Two of the chairs were occupied on first appearance by the muscled blonde man I'd seen in the bunk room earlier and a man I recognized immediately but hadn't yet met, even though I knew quite a bit about him.

When we entered the room, Stark opened his fat mouth again. "Hey, Thor." The man with the hammer and blonde hair turned to face us. "Flitterflutter here needs a ride to New England. You can fly, right big man?" Stark gave Thor a hearty slap on the back.

"So can your fancy suit, Stark," A man spoke up from the corner. He was wearing a longsleeve blue shirt that pulled tight across well worked muscles and a pair of pleated khaki pants and brown shoes like a grandfather dressed for a casual Sunday afternoon after church.

"My 'fancy suit' needs repairs and a huge tune up after last night's little....issue."

"Got hit by a pigeon again?" the man in blue muttered under his breath.

"Turn around and say it to my face, Rogers," Stark snapped back.

Rogers stood toe to toe with Stark.

I cleared my throat and they both backed off to face me. "You girls finished? Because I have business to attend to and need a ride."

Stark glared at me for a second before punching Rogers in the arm. "She's your issue now, Cap. Have fun." He left the room, grinning triumphantly, and I tipped my head at Rogers.

"So you're Steve Rogers. Captain America. The Captain America. The one that defeated Red Skull and freed a full battalion and a half from a Hydra base behind enemy lines because a friend needed his help," I said. Rogers nodded simply, expression changing. "You're the man my great-uncle raved on and on about."

I paused, "He said your eyes were brown." That took him off guard. Perfect. I walked past him. A slight brush from my shoulder made encouraged him to keep his eyes on me.

"Your uncle? Who's your uncle?" he asked.

"My Grandpère's halfbrother."

"What was his name? I might remember him," he prodded. I shrugged and sank into a chair. "Please." He seemed almost desperate to hear a name. I partially understood. He needed to hear a name he recognized, the name of someone still alive from his own time period.

"Phillipe Devant?" I told him softly. The sadness in his eyes was overwhelming and I almost thought he might start crying. He shook his head. "If it helps any, he says he was one of the prisoners captured by Hydra and kept at the base. Said he saw you single handedly wipe out an elite Hydra escort planned for Doctor Zola. Said all he could do was stand and stare at the man who won the war." I stopped to let that sink in before continuing. "He always ended his speech by saying you were a hero to remember. A hero that would last as timeless through the ages. Guess he was right. And here I am sitting in the presence of that hero. Uncle would have a heart attack if he was here now."

I let my gaze rove around the room again before returning it to Steve Rogers. When Rogers sat across from me, I stood and did a lap of the room. Before I could start a second lap, Clint came in. "Stark told Fury and Fury told me. Get what you need. We're going to Maine. You too, Cap. Fury wanted some accountability."

Rogers nodded and stood again, going to a compartment in the wall and waving us out. "Let me suit up and I'll meet you guys there."

Clint led me from the room and told me, "Wait here. I need to suit up as well. Who knows what might happen after last night."

"What happened last night?" I asked, remembering Roger's dig to Stark.

He hesitated. "We kinda got attacked by a flock of man eating pigeons."