Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or Disney (isn't that who owns them now? P: ) and I certainly don't own everyone's favorite Captain. First Avengers/Captain America fanfic! Please review!

The Best Way to Meet Your Hero

Steve had been minding his own business that day, heading down the highway on his motorbike after visiting some friends down south. He hadn't even been dressed for action, and his shield was packed away with his uniform back at home in NY.

Darkness, however, was a nearly infallible cover for evil. A car pulled up beside him and before he knew it, he was being pelted with Hydra bullets from all sides.

It was a legitimate kill attempt.

Trying to think through the blur of pain from at least three bits of lead lodged in him somewhere, he leaped off his still-moving bike and threw it up against the side of the first car, causing it to smash and roll across the median. That left him exposed to three other vehicles, with assassins still firing at him from every one. He hit the ground hard, rolled under the smashed vehicle, and hauled himself up through an opening in the ruptured underbelly.

The dazed driver was easily robbed of his gun, which Steve immediately aimed and started shooting at the other cars' tires. Gunning the engine and tossing the man through the jagged window, he took off under cover of the van, heading toward the next exit. Once they got to civilization, Hydra would have to abandon the attack or be recognized.

The wrecked vehicle, however, couldn't match the speed of the other three. They shot out his tires and cornered him off within seconds, causing him to crash straight into them from the side. He felt the steering wheel hit him full on in the stomach before he was launched straight through the broken windshield and skittered across the dash before his feet hit the ground.

He staggered toward one van and then toward the other. Miraculously, the crash appeared to have killed both occupants.

It had also totaled both vehicles, meaning he'd have to walk to get help.

Groaning, he pulled out a light from his pocket that he usually carried and shined it along the road, flashing it back to scan the woods surrounding. His eyes narrowed when he spotted it. There WAS a house, back there among the trees. His legs wobbled underneath of him. He'd been shot how many times? Five? Ten? The wound in his stomach, caused by the steering wheel, was ironically the worst one of all. He wasn't sure he could make it, but he could at least try.

He was halfway through the woods when he collapsed for the second time, finally unable to go any further. His ears buzzed. Suddenly, he heard shouting, happy shouting, like kids or teens running around in the dark.

Then the shouting got closer. He could vaguely hear the footfalls and a splash in what must've been a tiny brook.


WHAM! A foot caught his midsection and somebody stumbled over his limp body, landing full on the face.

Wide-eyed, the teenaged girl caught sight of him and scrambled to her knees, turning around to face him with her flashlight. "Nani! Jose! It's a freakin' burglar!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Steve tried to raise his head as she inched her way back in fear. "No, it's okay," he gasped out, making her flinch. "I'm not a crook—just a soldier."

She regained her confidence surprisingly quickly. "Oh," she replied. "Uh, then why are you out here?" She noticed he was struggling to rise and her eyebrows bent forward in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he rose up one elbow only to clutch his stomach with a barely muffled scream, collapsing again and breathing hoarsely, trying hard not to scare her by crying out again.

She was, however, sufficiently scared. "Oh gosh," she gasped, getting a glimpse of the wound he himself hadn't seen yet. "I don't know what to do. What should I do? I'm—I'm gonna call 911, okay?"

"Yeah, that might be—a—good idea," he panted trying to put himself in the least painful position, and one where he could still see her face.

A tall boy of about the same age suddenly ran up. Seeing the Cap, he stopped short, gawking. "Whoah, is he a dead guy?" he asked in a slightly panicked-sounding voice.

"Just get your phone and call the freaking ambulance," the girl snapped at him, shoving her square glasses further up on her nose. She then knelt down beside Steve, moving into a position so that his eyes were forced to meet hers. "What's your name?" she asked, with surprising gentleness after the way she'd spoken to her friend.

"Steve," he managed, barely. The edges of his vision were starting to blur, even noticeable in the darkness.

"Mine's Kay," she informed him. "I'm gonna take care of you, okay?"

Steve nodded.

"'Nani, gimme your shirt."

The boy smelled it before pulling it up over his head and handing it to her. "It's sweaty."

"We're all sweaty," she retorted.

He began talking to the emergency dispatcher over his cell phone.

Carefully, Kay's small hands pried Steve's away from the wound, pressing the shirt into it quickly enough to prevent any large spurts of blood. "Keep breathing," she told him gently. "Now hold that there," she replaced his hands, "And just focus on breathing. I'm gonna tie this around you. Sorry, I know it hurts."

"They're coming," he heard the boy say, although he couldn't see him. Other voices began surrounding them, too, as the other kids gathered around. Steve focused on Kay, watching her dark eyes and her mouth as it moved, as she kept talking to him.
"It's okay, Steve. They're almost here. You're gonna be fine."

His eyes grew heavy from the amassed pain. He could faintly hear the others shouting instructions. "Don't let him fall asleep, Kay!"

"Wake up!" she shouted in his ear. His eyes flew open again. "Hey. Tell me about yourself. You have any family around?"

Numbly, he just shook his head. "No family. All dead."

A look of horror for a moment crossed the face of the girl who was currently surrounded by her own, extensive family. She took his hand and squeezed it. "God help you," she murmured in reaction. He started falling unconscious again. "Hey, hold on, Steve! Talk to me!"

"I can't—I can't think, it hurts to—"

"Can you sing?"

He calmed for a moment. Could he sing?

She began humming softly, a tune he couldn't remember the words to but still recognized. He tried to join her, but it came out as more of a choked warble. Still, she kept singing until the ambulance arrived and the paramedics came running through the woods to get to them.

As they pulled him onto a gurney, his hand slipped out of hers. He finally dropped into unconsciousness.

It was four weeks later when Steve, finally healed, made his way back to the property where he'd been rescued. When he knocked on the door, a short, middle aged man answered the door and immediately looked him over head to foot with wide eyes. "You're that guy," he stuttered delightedly, with a wide smile despite his heavy accent. "That guy—Captain America!"

"Um, yeah," Steve replied, surprised he recognized him as THAT rather than as the strange man who'd collapsed in his backyard several weeks ago. He stuck out his hand as the man ushered him inside the house. "Steve Rogers…is Kay around here by chance?"

The other man shook it heartily. "Yes! Yes! Katherine?" he called up the stairs.

Soon, the dark-haired girl came bounding down the stairs, two at a time in a casually blundering fashion. She shoved her glasses back on her nose. "Are you calling me, Papa?"

Her father just gestured to Steve.

When she saw him, Kay's mouth dropped wide open. "You're Captain Steve Rogers," she grinned a few seconds later.

Steve just smiled. "And I believe you're the young lady who saved my life a few weeks ago!"

Her face went blank for a moment. "I did?" Suddenly it seemed to dawn on her. "That—that was YOU?! Oh, my gosh."

Steve laughed. "I just came to say thanks," he told her. "You're one of the bravest girls I ever met, that's for sure. How old are you?"

"Fourteen," she replied, a proud smirk working its way onto her lips.

Her father, smiling, moved forward to interrupt for a moment. "Sir," he addressed Steve, "you might not understand—all the way. My daughter, she is great big fan of yours."

Steve's eyebrows went up. "A fan, eh?"

"I want to be a soldier," Kay kicked the back of her own shoe. "Army surgeon. When I'm older."

"Bet you didn't expect to start so quickly, did you?" Steve grinned at her.

"Not really," she grinned back. "I guess you're all healed now?"

"Yeah. Benefits of genetic engineering. I heal pretty fast," he explained.

Her face clouded over then. "But—you really don't have any family?"

"No," he smiled sadly. "But I have a whole lot of friends. I hope I can say I just made another one?" he held out a hand.

She smiled broadly and took it. Then, stepping back, they both saluted each other at the same time—and laughed.

"See you 'round, Doctor Kay," he headed out the door.

"See you Captain," she waved, grinning ear to ear. Maybe, in four years or so, she actually would see him!