Disclaimer: I do not own the world of the MCU or its characters.

A/N: I am a horrible person but this plot bunny refuses to stay in its cage. Please, read and enjoy.

BZZZZZ

BZZZZZ

BZZ –

"Alarm Off."

Morning Routine:

Brush teeth

Wash face

Change into Gym clothes

Run the stairwells and hallways of the facility

Hour long session in the simulator

Return to room and shower

Breakfast in the cafeteria

Sophia bit into her bagel, watching as the Agents mulled around, drinking coffee, chatting. Most knew her and they waved or nodded their heads politely.

None stopped to join her. They never did.

Afternoon Routine:

Read the paperwork

Determine the category

File in correct folder

Repeat

"How's it going over here?"

Sophia looked up at Agent Wilford, a balding, middle-aged man with a round belly and a red face. She had tried to convince Agent Coulson to throw a Christmas Party one year with Wilford as Santa but Coulson wouldn't go for it. Sophia gave him her best smile. "Same old same."

Wilford nodded, moving away from her desk. "Keep up the good work."

The smile fell as Sophia turned back to her computer, placing her chin in the palm of her hand.

Evening Routine:

Dinner in the cafeteria (avoid the mashed potatoes at all cost!)

Study

Sleep

Sophia stood in her room, dart at the ready, tongue peeking out from between her lips as she focused on the dart board in front of her. Closing her eyes, she threw the dart, only peeking at the sound of the thunk it made in the wood. Grinning, she hurried forward, running her fingers over the words she had carved into the board.

"Mythology! My favorite."

Her evening routine was probably the most interesting part of her day. Sophia had been born with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Any book, documentary, file she could get her hands on was stocked and stuffed into most of the drawers and onto most of the desks and shelves in her room, organized in a way only she could truly understand. Every evening, she'd let chance pick the topic and she'd research it, sometimes learning something new and others simply refreshing what she already knew. With no one else to talk to, she learned and she researched and she figured, one day, she'd become a walking, talking encyclopedia and she was okay with that.

This was her day, this was her routine which she had followed since she could remember, give or take a few things. It hadn't been likely, at a younger age, that she could read the complicated files she had to read or the books she chose to explore. Sometimes she had a tutor come in, keep her up to date with the curriculum she was sure other (normal) kids were studying. Back then Coulson had visited more, hadn't been as high ranking as an Agent as he was now. Every time he visited her room in the SHEILD facility, he'd bring a new book from a place he had visited, things he knew she would be interested in. When she turned 18, that's when they decided she could work, that she could be an 'Agent', though she never really felt like one.

What she felt like was a prisoner.

Sophia would never voice this. SHEILD had, after all, given her a home, named her. She didn't know much about her past expect that her mother had died in childbirth, her father not in the picture. For all she knew, she could have been born here in this facility. She was grateful….

But that didn't stop her from wanting to go on missions, from wanting to be a part of something. When she had asked Coulson once to bring her along he had given her that sad smile of his. "Director Fury thinks it would be too dangerous."

"Dangerous for me?" Sophia had asked, angry. "Or dangerous for other people."

Coulson, never one to beat around the bushed had nodded his head. "Both."

Now, staring up at the ceiling of her room, Sophia wondered what Fury thought her capable of. She was good with a bo-staff, her choice of weapon, and had good aim with a gun, though she knew it wasn't perfect. She knew multiple languages, so it wouldn't be hard to blend in. She could do espionage.

Maybe it was because of her –

Sophia sat up in bed, realizing she couldn't sleep. This would certainly throw her off in the morning but at that point she just couldn't stomach the thought of being in her room. Quickly, she changed into another set of gym clothes and set out to run the halls and stairwells again.

Her room was on the twelfth floor so she usually would jog down the stairs to the first before running the halls on each floor, making her way back up. It was late, which meant the halls were silent besides the occasional hum of a machine or a computer. Sophia breathed deeply, letting her feet carry her across the tiles, through a stairwell door and up the stairs.

Repeat.

"Routine is good," Fury had told her once during one of the infrequent times she saw him. "Routine keeps you safe."

Routine keeps me bored. Routine keeps me trapped. Routine keeps me –

Sophia's footsteps came stuttering to a stop at a sound that was unfamiliar at this time of night. She rounded a corner, finding herself outside of the gym doors, her brow narrowing in confusion. Most Agents tended to use the gym early in the morning or towards the middle the day. Then again, Sophia was never out this late so who was she to say really. Curiosity getting the best of her, she pushed open the door quietly, peeking inside.

There was a man inside, dressed in brown gym pants, a dark t-shirt stretched taut over wide shoulders. From where she stood at the door, she could see the muscles in his arms, contracting as he lay into a punching bag with determined and furious strikes. She couldn't say how long he had been down here, but he seemed to have a good rhythm already, no sweat.

He was someone Sophia didn't know and Sophia knew everyone.

She knew she should go back to her room, pretend she hadn't been spying but she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. The echoing latch caught the man's attention and he grabbed the bag, stopping it from swinging as he turned towards her. Sophia clenched her hands together, wondering what on earth had possessed her to enter the gym; she was horrible at meeting new people. Trying her best not to make herself seem as awkward as she felt, she gave him a broad smile. "Hello."

Way to go, Sophia.

He nodded at her, eyes wary. "Ma'am."

Blue eyes. Muscular. Blond hair. NEW.

"You're Steven Grant Rogers," Sophia blurted out. Every fact she knew about him ran through her brain: his birthday, his prior illnesses, his mother's maiden name, his teammates. . . All of it sat on the tip of her tongue, begging to burst from her mouth but she bit down on her bottom lip.

He gave her an amused smile. "Most people just call me Steve."

"Right. Of course."

"You got a name?" he asked, after a few moments of her fidgeting with her fingers.

"Oh! I mean yes. It's Sophia Doe. I guess they figured it would be rude to call me Jane. . . . Like Jane and John Doe," she added at his raised eyebrow. "They're names you give to someone when you can't identify them otherwise."

"Oh."

Real smooth, Sophia.

"I ramble when I'm nervous," she said, by way of explanation, tugging on one of her dreadlocks.

Steve met her gaze again as he unwrapped up his hands. "Why are you nervous?"

"You're amazing. The lengths you went to, where you started from. . . . Your story is incredible. . . . And I'm awkward," Sophia added when she realized he was blushing slightly.

"I've, uh, never seen you around before," Steve said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"I tend to keep to myself. I embarrass myself less that way." The amused grin grew slightly larger on Steve's face. Sophia returned the smile, clasping her hands behind her back. "I should let you get back to your workout."

"Isn't that what you came down here to do."

Sophia felt the smile falter on her face and she took a step back. "I'm not allow – I don't like the gym, so I just run the stairwells."

She wasn't if Steve noticed her slight slip but he didn't say anything, just nodded his head. "It was nice to meet you, Ms. Doe."

"Just Sophia is fine or Sophie or Soph is sometimes what Coulson calls me. It was nice to meet you too," she inserted quickly when she felt the beginnings of another ramble. "If you're ever in the cafeteria, I usually sit in the far-right hand corner. Breakfast and dinner."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do!" Before she could say anything else ridiculous, Sophia eat a hasty retreat.

Steve hesitated outside of the cafeteria, not sure why he was here. Since he had woken, he tended to only travel between his room and the gym, not wanting to deal with the people staring at him though. Part of him, though, felt it would be rude to ignore Sophia Doe's invitation.

She was an odd girl, woman. She had to be in her early twenties though she acted much younger. Tall and lanky, almost fragile but lean, though he still couldn't imagine her as an agent. She seemed to be constantly nervous, if last night was any indication.

And what had she meant by 'not allowed' in the gym? He had noticed the start of that sentence that she had quickly changed but didn't want to pry, but he knew she had been about to say 'not allowed'. Surely a tiny thing like her couldn't do as much damage as he did. He had already gone through a lot of punching bags, two this week alone.

Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed the door of the cafeteria and strode in, headed straight for the food line. He could feel the stares and hear the whispers but he kept his head down, getting his food and paying the cashier at the end. He turned, his eyes roaming until he found Sophia Doe.

She was sitting, far-right hand corner just like she said she would be. She had weird hair, he remembered, like tons of kinky braids, a few dyed purple. Not a bad weird, just different from what he was used to girls' hair looking like, but it seemed to suit her. Right now, those braids were piled up on top of her head in an oversized bun, the few that she had dyed purple hanging down around her face. Her chin was propped up in the palm of her hand while her other hand stirred her oatmeal lazily with a spoon. He wondered how long she had stayed up after she had left him in the gym. She looked tired . . . but she also looked lonely. It was a resigned type of loneliness though, as if she was used to this. Steve noticed that, even though some called out her name and said hello, the Agents avoided walking in that direction.

Steve walked over to her, feeling eyes following him but he ignored it still, placing his tray on the table in front of Sophia, causing her to look up, her large, brown eyes going wide. He smiled at her as he sat down. "This seat taken?"

She shook her head, a smile slowly growing on her face. "Never."

She didn't say the word like she was sad, just as if it were a fact. He didn't want to show her pity though; as perky as she was, he didn't think she'd appreciate his pity. So instead, he dug into his food, and she went back to her oatmeal, looking a bit cheerier than she had when he first walked in. He thought maybe she just needed some company, which he figured wouldn't hurt him to have the same.

It was a start.

A/N: As I said, this is a plot bunny but it's turning into an incredibly big one. I have plans for this and I hope you enjoy the mystery that is Sophia Doe. I plan to update this every Saturday and, I solemly swear that I will be updating Playing with Fire (Harry Potter) and my other Marvel story as well. Thanks everyone!