To The End [Steve Rogers]

6 - Needing a Push

Jessica blinks rapidly to clear the glossy need for sleep from her eyes. Her mind suddenly fills with the memories of only hours before. It's in this moment that she realizes that she shouldn't be surprised to see Steve standing before her.

"I know I said I would explain..." she starts.

Running abruptly into her is as jarring to Steve as it is Jessica. He looks behind her at the slate gray doors like he's about to say something but rethinks it. Instead, he says, "I was just coming to see if you were alright. Your arm..."

Steve trails off, noticing her perfectly functioning wrist. She matches his gaze, flexing her muscles self-consciously.

"How did you—?"

Jessica suddenly notices the amount of agents in the hallway. Most are chatting amongst themselves just as everyone else has done as they passed, but Jessica can't help but feel exposed at the sight of them.

"Come here," she whispers.

A janitorial room sits across from the infirmary, though she didn't know that before now. Steve gazes down the hallway, hesitancy written on his face as she holds open the door.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya, Rogers," she jokes after a second.

He tries to hold back his smile, but the edges of his lips turn up anyways, "That's not really the concern."

Steve steps inside behind her. Her fingers slide along the wall for the light switch, which in turn reveals a much bigger utility room than she had previously expected.

He stays by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, "Can I ask why we're hiding in a closet?"

"You should know by now," she replies, "we SHIELD agents are crazy about our secrets."

He looks around the room at the shelves of cleaning supplies, "This seems like more than a secret."

She examines their surroundings as well. It's only fitting that she would hide them in the corner of a dimly lit, barely visited room to talk. It vaguely resembles her powers—shoved aside and kept secret. It's better this way.

"I'm sorry for what I did," Jessica apologizes. "I wasn't being careful."

"Had I known, I wouldn't have tried to stop you," he admits, "but I'm sure there's a reason that you didn't tell me."

She doesn't say anything and as they have so many times today, her eyes find a spot on the opposite wall to focus on.

"This isn't what I wanted," she mumbles.

"Jessica, you don't have to tell me—"

"Do you remember what we saw?" She interrupts him, "The memory I stole from you?"

Steve recalls the pharmacy and the old car. His friend, a face he hasn't been able to see clearly in decades, emerging from the door. It was so realistic, almost as if he was there living it all over again.

He feels himself nod.

"Which means you remember what happens afterwards," she says. "The feeling of weakness, exhaustion. Only because I touched you for a second." Her hands fold over each other uncomfortably as she holds them against her. "Any longer and I could have..."

It's difficult for him to not immediately fill the silence that comes after her words. She's scared of herself and of the things she could possibly do to others.

"That's why you do interrogations. Something happened in the field," he concludes.

Her eyes close and she leans her head back against the wooden shelf. A low, shaky breath escapes her lips. From across the room, Steve swears he can see a small silver tear run down her cheek.