"Corporal Harris, good to see you again."

At first, Evangeline thought she might've been dreaming when that sentence left Colonel Phillips' mouth, that maybe she'd hit her head a little too hard after being launched from the back of that Hydra motorcycle. But there he was, the old coot, standing at the entrance of the camp when she and Buck returned a few minutes after Steve. Nothing had changed about him since the last time she saw him, he still had that wrinkled face resting at a permanent frown, still wore the same uniform and kept the same monotonous tone of his voice.

He extended an old, worn hand in her direction and she gave it a firm shake.

"Good to be back, sir," She replied as a smile crossed her lips; she could've sworn he'd done the same. But any sign of happiness on the colonel's face was erased before she could fully confirm it. "I'm excited to get back to work on the front lines."

"Well, if Mr.Stark's whimsical reports about you aren't works of fiction, then I'm just as giddy," The old man responded. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me to my tent." It wasn't a request; Evangeline walked after the colonel with Bucky tagging not too far behind as Phillips led her to the center of the camp where his desk and type-writer sat beneath a tent, the headquarters of their camp operation.

She could recall the last time she'd been there, the day she was put on temporary leave. With its grimy brown and green canvas walls and the multiple wooden chairs placed before the heavy desk, it was as if nothing had changed since then. Taking a seat behind his table, Phillips gestured for Evangeline to sit as well. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bucky and Steve floundering a few yards away at another nearby tent, pretending to hold a conversation and acting casual despite the woman knowing otherwise. Angie smirked.

Those dorks.

"I believe-" Phillips slid a case onto his desk, bringing her attention back to the conversation, and opened it to reveal a weapon she was all too familiar with. "This belongs to you?"

There Catastrophe sat, smooth and sleek from being cleaned and polished, her barrel as shiny and pristine as ever. How they managed to recover it from Azzano, Evangeline would never know. How she managed to be in such good condition was a mystery to the woman as well. Despite the wave of joy that washed over Angie's soul at the sight of her gun, the soldier was still hesitant when it came to actually removing Catastrophe from her black foam encasement. Her fingertips hovered over the pistol's grip for a sacred moment before the explosive human recoiled and her fist fell to her side.

"It won't bite."

"I know that," She retorted a little too quickly for Phillips' liking, but he kept his mouth shut on that topic. The woman let out a slight huff of air, knowing that her boys were still watching from the corner of her peripheral vision, but inwardly cursing their presence instead of laughing at them this time. "I'm sorry, I know what you mean, colonel." He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

"Then what's the issue?"

"Nothing, I just..." She sighed, then raised her hand for a second attempt, her gaze finding its way to the ground. Gently grazing the rough surface of Catastrophe's grip, her fingers wrapped around the weapon's handle and lifted her from her case. "This is just a bittersweet taste, that's all." 

The last time she'd held Catastrophe in her hand, she and her soon-to-be fiancee had been taken captive by Hydra. The last day she'd kept this weapon close was the day she'd experienced the worst possible physical pain any human could ever feel. "That day-"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, kid," The tone of Colonel Phillips' voice shifted from one of aged impatience to one of deep understanding. The woman looked up and saw that his usual gruff expression had been replaced with the look of a parent or teacher, the way the annoyance in his eyes transformed into a kind of concern she'd never witnessed of him before. "Look," He let out a low grunt as he got to his feet, like every other old person she'd seen during her days at the diner. "I won't make you keep it if the memory is too much for you-"

"It's not," Evangeline cleared her throat. With a snap of Phillips' fingers, one of his soldiers jogged into the tent, a belt in one hand and a holster in the other. Evangeline took the objects from the young man with a nod of thanks before standing up, sliding the long piece of leather through the loops in her pants and attaching the holster to it. "I'll be alright, just need to get used to it again. I haven't shot a gun in weeks."

"Rogers can take you out for some target practice," Phillips' common annoyed demeanor rose from the dead and he began to busy himself with paperwork scattered across his desk. "Send Barnes here when you get the chance, I need to discuss a few things with him." In an instant, the old coot was back to his old ways. He flipped through letters, signed papers, and efficiently forgot Evangeline's existence altogether.

"Yes, sir," With a wave of her hand, she saluted the colonel before turning to jog over to her guys. "And like I said before, sir, it's good to be back."

**********

Steve was more than happy when Evangeline brought up the idea of honing her rusty shooting skills. Though he felt a little guilty at the thought, Steve didn't mind the fact that Bucky would be busy talking to the colonel about certain affairs during the time spent away with his girl. The knowledge of being alone with her put a spring in his step; he practically skipped from the barracks to the truck they'd be taking on their little excursion.

Their choice of location for target practice was a meadow not too far away from camp, but far enough from the action to prevent distraction to their own troops. It was a place Steve would occasionally go in his free time when he needed a break, just a quiet place to be alone with his thoughts and his journal. Sometimes Bucky would come along as well, but the meadow was truly Steve's alone. And he was more than willing to share it with the woman in his passenger's seat.

"I'm not as rusty as you'd think, buddy," Evangeline checked Catastrophe's chamber after loading it a full clip. Steve let out an unbelieving chuckle as he drove the truck down the dirt road, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. The last time he'd driven a car, he was fourteen years old on a dare from Buck that he couldn't calmly navigate an old taxi through the alley behind Mama G's diner. Of course Evangeline was completely against it, but Steve had been a puny little runt with a lot to prove.

"Sure, you aren't," Steve pulled the truck over and put it in park.

"Oh yeah?" She smirked. "Willing to make a bet?"

"You know I don't gamble, doll," It was the first time he'd ever called her that, but they didn't dwell very long on that subject. "Especially when I know the other person has no chance of winning."

"That the perfect time to make a bet, moron," Evangeline shoved his shoulder with a laugh and the two got out of the car, slamming their doors shut and walking around back to pick up their targets from the truck's rear. "How about this: if I make a bull's eye on the first shot, drinks are on you. If I miss, I pick up the tab." The woman grabbed a wooden crate full of glass bottles from the car's tailgate.

"With odds like that, how can I resist?" Steve countered and grabbed a crate of his own. A couple yards away sat an old wooden fence; that's where they'd set up shop. As Evangeline took the lead, a mischievous smile on her face, the captain couldn't help but eye her up and down as he followed, mentally punching himself in the face yet again for keeping his love for the spunky woman hidden.

This was going to be a long day.