"Some days she felt like she was swimming in lies, treading water in a sea of deception. One day, surely, she would drown in her own secrets."
*~*~*~*
Venetia Sarafian was never like other women. Rather than sitting back and thinking of how she coul...
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"Pearson pitches a curve ball, high and outside, for ball one. So the Dodgers are tied four to four. And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand new game again. Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field. The Phillies have managed to tie it up at four to four. But the Dodgers have three men on. Pearson beaned Reiser in Philadelphia last month. Wouldn't the youngster like a hit here to return the favor? Pete leans in. Here's the pitch. Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo. Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher's gonna wave him in. Here comes the relay but they won't get him. Pete Reiser with an inside the park grand slam."
The man opened his eyes to the sound of a sports caster describing a baseball game on the radio. His head pounded as he sat up in his bed, glancing around the room he was in he vaguely recognized it as a hospital room. But something wasn't right, something that he couldn't place his finger on. He narrowed his blue eyes as he looked towards the radio, recognizing the game that was being described, as though it were currently happening.
His gaze shifted to the door when it opened, a young woman with long curly dark hair made her way inside, offering the man in the bed a smile.
"Good morning," she greeted him, closing the door behind her before checking her watch. "Or should I say afternoon?"
"Where am I?" The man questioned.
"You're in a recovery room in New York City," the woman informed him, as though it were obvious. The man only frowned as he continued to listen the game on the radio and glanced out the window at the talks buildings surrounding the one he was in.
"Where am I really?" He asked her again, not believing what she said.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," her brows furrowed slightly.
"The game," he nodded towards the radio as he rose to his feet. "It's from May, 1941. I know, 'cause I was there. Now I'm gonna ask you again. Where am I?"
"Captain Rogers..." She whispered as she pressed a button on the small remote in her hand, silently signaling others outside that she needed help.
"Who are you?" Steve questioned her, his voice hard. She didn't answer as the door opened behind her, men making their way inside. Panic coursed through Steve's veins as he charged at the men, easily sending them flying through the walls.
He stepped through the wall of the fake room, looking around him in confusion, seeing a picture of New York buildings set up outside the false windows.
"Captain Rogers, wait!" The woman yelled after him as he rushed towards the nearest exit, desperate to get away from the strangers. "All agents, code thirteen! I repeat, all agents, code thirteen!"
The woman's voice rang over the PA as Steve rushed out into a hall, finding various men and women dressed in suits standing around, going about their day at work. Many of them rushed his way at the sound of the woman's words, trying to stop him. He pushed them aside with ease, racing out of the building and onto the street.
He ran out into the middle of the road, continuing to run down it between the cars, not giving it a second thought. Before long he found himself standing in the middle of Times Square, staring around at the large monitors and TVs that decorated it with wide eyes, never having seen anything like it before.
"At ease, soldier!" A man ordered as cars pulled up around the man. Steve spun around to find an older man dressed in all black with an eyepatch standing in front of him. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly."
"Break what?" Steve frowned, confused as to what was going on.
"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years," the man informed him. Steve's eyes widened as he looked around him, trying to process what he'd been told. His breathing quickened, struggling to comprehend that he had slept through his entire life. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I just..." Steve nodded, his mind racing back to the last conversation he'd had. The promise that he had made to Peggy. "I had a date."
"My name is Nick Fury. These men here will take you back to my office, we'll be able to talk more about everything there." The man gestured to two men behind Steve. The blond only nodded, allowing the two men in suits to lead him to one of the cars.
Nick Fury watched at the super soldier was led away, well aware that the older man's head was likely spinning to try and take in what he had just been told. Trying to process the fact that the life he had been living-- the world he knew-- was gone. The black clad man turned to head back towards his own car only to find a pair of his best agents-- Phil Coulson and Maria Hill-- standing behind him.
"Are you going to tell him?" Coulson asked Fury, his gaze bouncing between Steve and his boss. The agent couldn't help but feel in awe as he stared after the soldier, having grown up hearing stories about the famous Captain America. "About her?"
"What is there to say?" Fury raised a brow at the younger man. "It's not as if she's here to meet with him."
"No, but she's still alive." Coulson reminded him. "She would be able to help him adjust to the new time better-- Provide him with a familiar face."
"We don't even know where she is," Hill pointed out the flaw in her coworker's plan. "Do you really think it's smart to get a super soldier's hopes up after everything he's been through?"
"At least it'll give him hope," Coulson insisted.
"No one tells him about her for now," Fury cut their bickering short with a shake of his head. "Not until we've located her and brought her in. Even if we find her, she's not gonna make it easy to bring her in. You know that as well as I do, Coulson. That's never been the way Sarafain has played."
