Lost in Time

MARCH 2014 - WASHINGTON DC

The sun has barely risen, and the chill of spring is still in the air. Sam Wilson leisurely continues his jog around the grounds of the Smithsonian, half aware of the footsteps behind him. "On your left." The jogger passes him, and Sam continues along.

He's passing in front of the Lincoln Memorial when he hears footsteps again. "On your left." The jogger warns once more.

Sam huffs, "Uh-huh, on my left. Got it."

The sun has fully risen by the time Sam reaches the front of the memorial again, those same footsteps behind him. "Don't say it." He warns. "Don't you say it!"

"On your left," Steve smirks, passing him for the third time that morning.

"Come on!"

In an attempt to catch up, he rounds the pool and picks up his pace, unable to catch the super soldier. Instead, he collapses underneath one of the trees to catch his breath, which is where Steve finds him after finishing his last lap. "Need a medic?"

Sam laughs. "I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran, like, 13 miles in 30 minutes."

"I guess I got a late start," Steve says.

"Really?" Sam looks up at him. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap." Silence falls between them. "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

"What unit are you with?" Steve asks, pointing to Sam's sweatshirt.

"58th Pararescue. But now I'm working down at the VA." Sam holds out his hand so Steve can help him stand, introducing himself. "Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers."

"I kind of put that together," Sam admits. "I saw you in those interviews with that Shield scientist, Clara. She's a nice girl." He regards Steve for a moment. "Must have freaked out you, coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

Steve sighs. "It takes some getting used to." He shakes his hand. "It's good to meet you, Sam."

He steps away, but Sam calls out to him. "It's your bed, right?"

"What's that?"

"Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there, I'd sleep on the ground, use rock for pillows, like a caveman." Sam explains. "Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like..."

"Lying on a marshmallow." Steve finishes for him. "Feel like I'm gonna sink right to the floor." Sam nods to confirm his thoughts. "How long?"

"Two tours. You must miss the good old days, huh?"

"Well," Steve smiles softly. "Things aren't so bad. Like you said, Clara's here working at Shield, so I'm not alone. The food's a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot, trying to catch up."

Sam smiles too. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack," he suggests, and Steve takes out his notebook. "Everything you missed jammed into one album."

"I'll put it on the list." He writes it under Rocky (Rocky II?), joining the long list of other suggestions people have given him to look into, such as Disco, Thai Food, and Nirvana. His phone buzzes, alerting him of a Shield mission. "All right, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run." They shake hands once more. "If that's what you want to call running."

Sam scoffs. "Oh, that's how it is?"

"Oh, that's how it is."

They both laugh as they release their handshake. "Okay. Any time you want to stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know." Sam tells him, and Steve nods.