Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of its characters.

Continuity note: In my head, this takes place post CA:TWS during 1x20, "Nothing Personal," in the time between Hill's departure and May's arrival, so Ward is still gone and Fitz is still fully functional.

Phil Coulson wasn't used to cheap motels - not anymore, at any rate. He'd spent more than his fair share of time in them when he was a field agent, but once he'd moved up to become SHIELD's top analyst, he'd abandoned motel rooms with dark carpets and blackout drapes for offices and meeting rooms with plush carpeting and walls of windows.

Now, there was no more SHIELD to analyze for, and he was back in a motel room that hadn't been updated since at least the eighties, judging by the bland décor, with his team.

The word made him pause. Were they a team? Himself, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, and Skye? And what about Melinda May, if she ever came back after he'd all but kicked her out, and Antoine Triplett, who'd joined them only because circumstance made it the best choice?

Coulson thought about what they'd been through and decided that yes, they were - still - a team. A new team, to be sure, with Grant Ward's betrayal still fresh and Triplett's presence causing some friction as he settled in to his place, but a team nonetheless.

But teams have goals, Coulson reminded himself. What's our goal, other than to survive? Well, and take down John Garrett and his cell of Hydra infiltrators - that was a given, even if Maria Hill had intimated that it was more of a vendetta than an actual mission. Whatever it was, once they'd accomplished it… what next?

A knock on the hotel room door interrupted his thoughts, and Coulson crossed to open it. "Forget your keys, Fitz?"

"I'm not Fitz, so no."

Coulson stared at the tall, blond man before him, and a memory flashed unbidden in his mind.

"I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially. I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping. I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really, it's just a... just a huge honor to have you on board."

He hadn't been that embarrassed since … best not to think about that now. Coulson shoved the memory aside in the face of Steve Rogers - Captain America - the man who'd been his hero all his life - the man he'd been lying to, if only by omission, for two years. The man who shouldn't know he was alive.

"How'd you -?" Coulson began, then stopped, unsure what he was asking.

"I asked Maria Hill for a favor," Rogers answered. "She suggested I contact you. When I told her séances had a dubious reputation even in my day, she said one wasn't necessary. Now I know why."

"I'm sorry," Coulson said, almost automatically. "It wasn't my choice."

"Living?" Rogers gave a lopsided grin. "Wasn't mine, either. Welcome to the club."

Coulson laughed once, startled, then remembered his manners and stepped aside to invite the other man in. "What do you need?"

"A hacker."

Coulson frowned as he closed the door. "I wasn't up on everything, but I know you were working with Romanoff. She's -"

"In the wind," Rogers finished. "Hill - Maria - tells me you've got the best hacker she's ever seen on your team. I'd like to borrow him for a little while."

"If it's for a mission," Coulson began, but Rogers was shaking his head.

"It's personal."

Coulson studied the other man for a moment, but his choice was never in doubt. His hero needed help? He'd give it, rules and consequences be damned.

"I'll get her."

#

Skye had never been a fan of British humor, but she hadn't objected when Simmons found a marathon of Are You Being Served? on one of the motel's crappy cable channels. The show seemed to amuse Simmons and Fitz, and Triplett hadn't objected, so Skye sat quietly surfing the information that had turned her world upside down, again. All of SHIELD - well, most of it, she amended - laid bare for the world to see and, maybe, to use against her and this small band of people she'd come to call family in such a short time.

A dysfunctional family, and right now a broken, incomplete one, but a family nonetheless.

The thought made Skye pause, the words and images on the screen meaningless as she examined that conclusion. Were they family, still? After Ward's betrayal - and that hurt was too fresh to look at - and May's departure?

Skye glanced at her companions. Fitz seemed to have been shaken the most, not just by Ward but by the obvious affection between Simmons and Triplett, but at the moment, he and Simmons were laughing at the show, occasionally throwing in what Skye could only assume were other references from it that she didn't understand, and both of them appeared more relaxed than they had in weeks. Skye couldn't help smiling at that as her glance slid to Triplett.

Triplett met her gaze, and she started, only to relax when he, too, smiled and nodded toward the other pair. He got it, Skye thought. He understood that they needed some normalcy now, even if at the moment normalcy was defined as "bad British comedy."

A knock on the door brought all of them to their feet. Triplett had his gun drawn before Skye could set her laptop aside. Triplett glanced at the other three, then moved quietly toward the door, carefully avoiding windows.

"Who's there?" Triplett demanded.

"Coulson."

Skye relaxed at the familiar voice, but Triplett didn't. Instead, he reached to open the door with one hand, keeping his gun trained at the door with the other.

"I can't blame you for being cautious." Coulson stood, hands loosely at his sides. "But it's just me."

With a last glance at her and the others, Triplett nodded and stepped back to let Coulson in. "What's up, boss?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Coulson said. "But I need to borrow Skye."

The sound of her name made her eyebrows lift. "Me? Because SHIELD isn't hacked enough already?"

"It's a favor for a friend," Coulson told her.

"Must be some favor," Skye said, glancing at Fitz and Simmons. They'd relaxed when they saw it was Coulson, and now Simmons muted the television.

"It's some friend," Coulson countered.

Neither Fitz nor Simmons looked concerned, so Skye shrugged. "Sure. What do they need?"

"He didn't say. But you can ask him yourself. He's in my room." Coulson held up the key.

"You just said you can't blame us for being cautious," Triplett put in. "Who's this friend?"

"Someone I trust. Completely."

"You trusted Garrett. And Ward." There was no accusation in Triplett's voice, and Skye marveled at that. "Why is this man different?"

Coulson met Triplett's gaze. "Hill sent him."

Triplett appeared to relax, though his expression remained dubious. "That'll have to do." Then he turned to Skye. "You want me to come with?"

Skye appreciated the offer, and was tempted to take him up on it. Something in Coulson's expression changed her mind. "I'll be fine, Trip."

Coulson extended his key. "Take your laptop." Then he caught sight of the television. "You couldn't find Doctor Who?"

#

Skye slipped the key into the lock on Coulson's motel room door, then paused. She'd be foolish not to be nervous, even if Coulson and Hill had vouched for whoever waited for her inside. She adjusted her laptop under her arm, rested her free hand on the gun Trip had insisted she strap to her hip despite Coulson's protests, then awkwardly turned the handle.

The door swung open, and she saw a tall blond man paused in the space between the bed and the bathroom, where he'd obviously been pacing. A large, awkwardly shaped bag rested on the bed. For a moment, he looked startled, and Skye thought she saw a flash of embarrassment, but he recovered quickly enough that she couldn't be certain.

"You're Coulson's friend?" She winced internally as soon as she said it. She shouldn't have said anything that might tip off an imposter.

"Steve Rogers," the man said, and offered his hand. "You're Coulson's hacker?"

"Skye." She shook his hand, though she had to let go of her gun to do it. Then again, even Trip couldn't object to her shaking hands with Captain America. "Though I prefer the term hacktivist."

Steve's brow furrowed. "Hacktivist?"

Skye pushed past him, letting the door swing closed on its own. "Hacker and activist, all rolled into one. Civil disobedience and protest by hacking and sharing secrets."

"Some secrets should be kept."

"Three helicarriers in the Potomac suggest otherwise." Skye felt a surge of pride at her tone. Almost as dry as Coulson's.

"That's not -" Steve sputtered. "It wasn't supposed to -"

"Relax," Skye told him as she opened her laptop and connected to the motel's absurdly expensive Wi-Fi service. "That was the absolute best hack ever. Makes anything I ever did look like kinder, gentler hacking."

"Technically, it wasn't hacking, because we were inside SHIELD when we did it."

"If that's how you want to look at it," Skye said with a shrug. "Fine with me. Either way, helping you is a pleasure. What do you need?"

"Anything you can find on an assassin called the Winter Soldier. Natasha says he's a ghost, so there may not be much, but I'll take whatever you can find." He crossed to the pack on the bed, withdrew a manila folder, and offered it to her. "This is what I have so far."

Skye took the file and flipped it open to be greeted by a photo of a man in some kind of cryonic sleep chamber, judging by the frost around the porthole framing his face. Clipped to the lower corner of that photo was an old, sepia-toned photo of the same man, only in dress uniform from, Skye guessed, World War Two. While she glanced through the rest of the file, Steve summarized what he knew about the man.

"His name is James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky. He was captured in '43, and Hydra's scientists experimented on him. I got him back, but he fell from a train in '44. I thought he'd died." Steve's voice sounded hollow. "Until recently. Natasha told me he'd worked for the Soviets for a while, and managed to get me that file. Now - I have no idea where he is. I'm pretty sure he pulled me out of the Potomac, but then he just disappeared."

"You're trying to save your friend," Skye said, pulling her phone from her pocket. "Assuming he's that Bucky Barnes."

Steve chuckled. "Well, I'm that Steve Rogers, so it's a good assumption."

"Why do you want him back? If he did all these things, I mean," she nodded at the file. She couldn't read the Cyrillic alphabet, but the photos told her all she needed to know.

"That wasn't Bucky." Steve was certain. "He was tortured and brainwashed into doing those things."

"My friend wasn't. Or I don't think he was." Skye scanned several photos of Barnes using the app on her phone, and was startled to feel a hand, warm and heavy on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I've had people I trusted turn on me, too." He paused. "It's both easier and harder that way."

"Harder, I get." Skye couldn't look at him, not if she wanted to stay calm and not cry, so she focused on the task at hand, uploading the images to her laptop. "Why easier?"

"Because they had the choice," Steve said simply. "They bear the responsibility for what they chose to do, and they'll face the consequences of their choices and deserve what they get. Bucky had no choice, but he'll be horrified at what he did when he wasn't himself. Even though it wasn't his responsibility or his choice, he'll carry the guilt for what he did. He doesn't deserve that."

The images uploaded, Skye opened the code for a search program she'd written a few weeks ago for a SHIELD mission, back when there was still a SHIELD to have a mission for. "Do you think people like that - people who chose Hydra - deserve a second chance?"

He was quiet for a long moment while she typed, and finally she gave in to the urge to look up at him, to try to read his answer in his eyes. When she did, he took a breath.

"I think it's not up to me to decide that unilaterally," Steve said, and Skye wasn't sure why she should be surprised that he'd been thinking about his answer all this time. "I think that some people do, but I think that's something that each of us has to decide for ourselves."

"Not all do, though."

"No, not all."

Skye turned back to her keyboard, unable to ask this next question if she were still looking at the intensity that was Captain America. "Would you give the person who turned on you a second chance?"

"Maybe later, when it's not so fresh." Steve chuckled and added, "See? I'm not some perfect paragon of virtue."

"You wouldn't have had as much influence if you were," Skye said absently. It took her a few more lines of code before she noticed the quality of their silence had changed. She glanced up at him again. "Surprised?"

"A little. I mean, the guy who had the most influence over the last couple thousand years was perfect."

"He was also crucified for it. Not sure that's a stunning endorsement for perfection."

Steve gave her a puzzled expression. "Odd way of looking at it."

"Maybe, but it's also true." Skye turned in her chair and met his gaze. "You're just a guy, doing what he can for what he believes is right. You gave your all for it, and if you made mistakes along the way, that doesn't detract from the rest. It just means you're human."

A thought hit her, and Skye grinned at him. "Even if being human annoys the spit out of you sometimes."

Steve laughed. "Sometimes."

The laughter lingered in the air for a moment before Skye said, "Okay. I've set up a program to scan security feeds for your friend's face and alert you to any matches greater than sixty percent. If we still had access to SHIELD computers, it'd go faster. As it is, it'll have to run in the background."

"Background of what?" Steve sounded puzzled.

"Whatever else you're doing on the computer. Kind of like the SETI at Home program does."

"SETI?"

"Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence."

"They already found us, if New York was anything to go by."

"Point," Skye admitted. "But SETI dates back way before that, back when home computers first had enough capacity to run it." A thought occurred to her. "You do have a computer, right?"

"I have access to one," Steve said, and Skye supposed that amounted to the same thing.

"Do you happen to have a jump drive so I can give you the program?" She'd have to make a supply run soon, Skye thought. Limited resources was one thing, she'd worked with those before, but certain things, like a handful of empty jump drives, were essential.

"You can email it to me," Steve said. "Captain dot Rogers at Captain America dot com. Don't look at me like that. Coulson set it up."

"Not the address," Skye said. "Just - you know how to use email?"

"I even text sometimes," Steve said, his voice dry. Then, "We didn't have the technology back then, but we weren't stupid. What do I need to know to run the program?"

#

Two and a half episodes into Are You Being Served?, Jemma said, "Skye's been gone a long time."

Coulson looked at her. "Not that long."

"Over an hour," Jemma said. "Do you know what can happen in an hour?"

"The universe was created in less than a trillionth of a second," Fitz pointed out. "An hour could see the creation of almost five quintillion universes."

"Thank you, Fitz," Jemma said. Then she focused on Coulson. "We should check on her."

"Skye's fine," Coulson said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

"You don't know that," Jemma retorted. "He could be hurting her. Or he could've taken her somewhere."

Then again, he'd never been that good at reassurance. "He wouldn't. Yes, I do know that."

Trip glanced over at him. "How about calling her? That lets your friend keep his privacy, but it should reassure Jemma."

"How would we know she's not saying what he wants her to say?" Jemma demanded. "Just a check, to be sure she's all right, that's all."

Coulson saw that the others agreed with her, and he had to admit that if he were in their shoes, he'd feel the same.

Just tell them it's Captain America with her, and they'll relax, he told himself.

Like they'll believe that without seeing it, he answered.

"If you must," Coulson said.

"I'm best with weapons," Trip said. "I'll go first. You stay behind me." He looked directly at Jemma when he said it.

"I will," Jemma promised.

"We all will," Fitz added. "You might need this."

Trip took the key Fitz offered him and drew his Glock from its holster at his hip. He looked at Coulson once more. "You good with this?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?" Coulson asked.

"No," Jemma declared.

"Then I'm good with it." But that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy their reactions when they realized just who they were doubting.

#

Skye had never been a fan of selfies. Besides being the ultimate expression of narcissism, they tended not to mix well with secrecy, which had been her hallmark with the Rising Tide as well as now with SHIELD. Today, though, she wished she had the guts to take one of her and Steve Rogers.

She still sat in the chair at the desk, but he'd moved to lean over her, one hand braced on the desk, the other resting casually on the back of her chair. Skye knew the pose was just so he could see her laptop screen more clearly, but still his closeness, and the intimacy of working on a shared project, allowed her to believe for just a moment that he wanted to be this close to her, and that the wanting wasn't an act, as it had been with Grant Ward.

Way to ruin that fantasy, Skye.

"Why couldn't you use Howlingcommandos for the password?" Steve grumbled.

"Obvious, much? Besides, this shouldn't be too bad. Americarocks, just replace the I and the O with numbers."

"Because that's not obvious?"

"How many people would expect you to use modern slang in your password?"

Steve's chuckle was interrupted by the door slamming open and a sharp command. "Don't move."

Steve tensed beside her, but that voice was familiar, and Skye risked turning her head. She frowned when she saw … "Trip? What are you doing here? And will you put that down before you get hurt?"

"Before I get hurt?" Trip didn't lower the Glock he held. "When you're the one all alone with a perfect stranger?"

"Not a stranger," Skye retorted. "And not perfect, either. We established that, right, Steve?"

"We did." Steve had turned his head only enough to see who'd burst into the room, though in this position, Skye thought her head and shoulders blocked most of his view. Even without touching him, Skye could feel his tension, and she suspected he'd already planned half a dozen ways to get them out of this.

"It's okay, Steve," Skye said. "Put that away, will you?"

Trip still didn't lower the weapon. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Seriously, didn't Coulson say he could be trusted?"

Finally, Trip lowered the weapon, and none too soon, as Jemma Simmons pushed past him. "Well, yes, but you were gone so long."

Jemma's movement allowed Skye to see past Trip to - Coulson? She frowned at him, and his expression shifted slightly, the barest upturn of his lips.

"Sorry," Coulson said, and Skye saw that he was looking past her to Steve.

Steve straightened. "A team should look out for each other."

Then Skye had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud at Trip's expression as he holstered his weapon.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Trip said. "My grandfather would roll in his grave if he knew I drew down on you."

"No, he wouldn't." Steve crossed behind Skye's chair to offer his hand. "He'd yell at me for getting so caught up in what I was doing that I wasn't paying attention to anything else."

Trip frowned, but took Steve's hand. "How do you -?"

"I see the resemblance. Gabe was a good man, and I'm proud to have served with him …?"

"Antoine Triplett. Trip, to my friends."

"Captain?" Fitz repeated, and Skye thought she hadn't seen that much hero-worship in Fitz's expression ever before, even when he looked up to Ward. "As in … Captain America?"

"Steve Rogers." He offered his hand to Fitz, who took it mechanically. "And you are?"

"Fitz. Leo Fitz. It's an honor, sir."

Steve turned to Jemma next, offering his hand to her as well, his smile not faltering when Jemma could only stare at him. How does he manage that? Skye wondered.

"Can I have your blood?" Jemma asked finally.

Steve glanced toward Skye. "Is that some modern slang I don't know?"

"No," Coulson answered, stepping fully into the room. "She's a biochemist. Captain Rogers' blood is off limits, Simmons."

"But we could reverse engineer Doctor Erskine's formula from it," Jemma protested. "We could finish what he started."

"Without Doctor Erskine's insights, that project could've gone terribly wrong," Coulson said.

"It did." Steve's words made Skye look at him, much as the other agents were doing. "Look up Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull."

"SHIELD handbook," Trip said. "Chapter One."

"Really?" Steve asked. "What's in Chapter Two?"

"Didn't you read the handbook?" Coulson asked.

"I just found out there's a handbook."

Coulson looked as though he wanted to splutter, and Skye had to look away before she laughed at him. "In the field two years, and you haven't read the handbook. Fury's slipping. I'll have a copy sent to your apartment in DC."

Skye glanced at Steve, but he didn't even blink. Coulson could send whatever he wanted to that apartment, Skye thought, but Steve wouldn't see it for a while. But Coulson seemed to expect Steve to say something, and even on such a short acquaintance with the man, Skye knew he wouldn't want to lie to someone he considered a friend. It was up to her, then.

"It's ready," she said.

Steve raised an eyebrow at the jump drive she offered him. "Thought you didn't have one of these?"

"I asked if you did. I never said I didn't."

Steve took the drive with a rueful grin. "Teach me to be more specific next time." Then he sobered. "Thank you."

She couldn't say it was nothing, and saying "you're welcome" sounded too formal, so Skye settled on, "Good luck."

Steve gave her a nod, then picked up the awkward bundle he'd dropped on the bed earlier - his shield, Skye assumed - before making a round of farewells and vanishing into the night.

Skye watched him through the window as he climbed onto his motorcycle. "Wonder what he'll do this time."

"This time?" Fitz said. "What do you mean, this time?"

"Last time, he single-handedly brought down Hydra's main base in Italy. And rescued nearly four hundred men."

"I don't understand," Jemma said. "Last time what?"

Skye looked at the rest of them, not surprised when Coulson nodded. Of course he'd get it. For the others, she said, "The last time he went after Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."