In The Middle, Somewhat Elevated | An Avengers Fanfiction |

Chapter 4: Artifact

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

Romanoff uncrossed her arms and shrugged, just a hint of eagerness on her face. "Just show me how to use the scepter."

"And then I can go home?"

Her lips pursed as if in disappointment. She wanted me to be someone else, I realized. Everyone wanted me to be someone else. And I was just me, an ordinary person. I was no hero. All I wanted was to get out of this mess in one piece.

"It's a little more complicated than that," she said. "I'm not exactly in charge of those kinds of decisions."

"Director Fury is," I said. It all came back to this mysterious man who was detaining me, convinced I was evil but was too busy to actually talk to me himself. I felt a flare of anger towards him.

"If he wants me to show you how to use Loki's weapon. I want answers."

This seemed to surprise her. "What kind of answers?"

"I want to know why they are saying I'm not human. And I want to know what exactly Loki is telling you guys about me. And why Coulson was asking about my family. And what is Director Fury planning to do with me. When he will let me go."

"Seems reasonable," she said after a moment of consideration. "Give me a minute."

As she left the room, I felt a real ray of hope for the first time since this all started. Finally, I had a little bit of control of what was happening. I had a bargaining chip.

The next time the door opened Steve Rodgers walked in. I felt myself withdrawing at the sight of him, resentment stirring in my gut. He didn't seem to notice and gave me a friendly smile.

"They look good on you." He gestured to the sweatshirt and pants he'd let me borrow. I looked down at myself in disbelief. They drowned me. He was just trying to put me off my guard.

"What are you supposed to be?" The words, filled with bitterness and sarcasm, spilled out of my mouth before I could even get a chance to think about what I was saying.

He looked down at the silver star on his chest, the red and white stripes across his middle, and then looked up at me as if surprised I didn't already recognize him from the costume.

"Captain America," he said with the tiniest hint of a shy smile.

This took me aback. I'd seen Walter's collection of Captain America stuff: cards, comics, action figures. I didn't know much about the character, but I did know he was fictional. There wasn't really a superhero soldier that helped defeat Nazis. That was just an urban legdend.

But why would a grown man dress up in costume? And, as far as I had seen, everyone else wasn't laughing at him. I stared at him. He was a huge person, tall and extremely muscled. If anyone looked like a superhero, Steve Rodgers would be the guy.

"Like..." I said eloquently. "for real?"

His smile grew and he chuckled, looking almost embarrassed. "The one and only."

'Wait wait wait. You..." If I was going to believe this guy was the real Captain America, then I had to believe he was..."You're like a hundred years old."

His smile fell, and I felt a little bad for my lack of tack. "Sort of," he conceded.

"You have to meet Walter. He is seriously your biggest fan. You're his, well, his hero. But how are you alive? You look so young," I babbled.

Steve winked at me. He actually winked at me. I hadn't been winked at by someone under the age of seventy my entire life. I blushed and hated myself for it.