The next morning, I wake up wondering why I'm sleeping on the couch. Then it all comes flooding back to me. The Comic-Con, Loki, Captain America... I remember it all, down to the last detail.

Needless to say, I missed my chance, but that's hardly my main concern. Nobody else had the privilege of missing their chance. As far as I know, the Captain and I are the only survivors. To confirm my suspicions, I fumble for the remote and turn on the news channels.

"A crazed terrorist by the name of Loki of Asgard attacked the New York Comic-Con last night and, out of approximately ten-thousand attendees, left no known survivors. According to our sources, Loki took hostages of all of the Comic-Con's visitors at nine PM. The last news from inside the building was that the famous Captain America was entering. Neither he, nor Loki, have been seen since." A very official-looking man appears on-screen next to the reporter. "We have with us Phil Coulson, an agent from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division to tell us a little bit of what's going on in the eyes of the government."

"Ma'am," Coulson begins. "There's not much that I'm permitted to say, but I can guarantee you that we're doing everything in our power to find both Loki and Captain America. Thank you." The man leaves, unwilling to say anymore.

"Well," I tell the TV. "You can stop looking for Cap. He's right here." I pause, contemplating my own words. If the government is really on the hunt for Cap, it's not going to be long before they can pick up where he is. Who knows what they would bring in? It could be anything from a nuclear weapon to the Incredible Hulk. I do not want that mess in my apartment. "Oh mercy, he's right here."

I run to my room, where Cap is still sleeping like a rock... or in his case, a block of ice. I grab his shoulder and shake him violently. "Captain, wake up. Come on, Cap, you can't leave me alone to deal with this! Please wake up!"

He has no reaction. Is he dead? There's only one way to find out...

I lean next to his ear, and muster up the loudest scream I have. "AMERICA!"

His eyes shoot open and he falls off of the bed, spewing obscenities. "What was that about?"

"Listen, buddy, if I had known you were a rock, I would've glued some googly eyes on you and called you Jimmy, but we don't have time for that now."

The Captain stares at me. "Who are you?"He looks around. "What am I doing here?"

"Hey, chill, alright? Well, you've already done that... Calm down, I mean. You remember what happened last night, don't you?"

"Does it have anything to do with the throbbing headache I'm experiencing?" He looks down. "Or the fact that I'm still in uniform?"

I sigh. "Memory loss must be so confusing. Why don't you come to the kitchen, you can get yourself some cereal, and I'll do my best to explain things. Quickly, if you don't mind. You have to get back to your people, or they're going to come looking for you here."

Cap nods and follows me to the kitchen. "The cereal is in the cupboard over there," I inform him, and seat myself at the table, waiting for him to get his food.

"I never did catch your name," Cap reminds me.

"Abby Brandon," I inform him. "And yours is...?"

"You can call me, Steve," he informs me, opening the cupboard. "Whoa..."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing..." he assures me. "It's just... that's a lot of Cinnamon Toast Crunch..."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, that... I'm doing an experiment of how many days I can have it for breakfast without getting sick of it. I'm up to two months. That stuff is like crack."

Steve looks back at me. "Right... I'd hate to be rude, but do you have any cereal that's not real sugary?"

"No, I live alone," I point out.

Steve shrugs, fixes himself a bowl, and sits down in front of me. "So, what exactly happened last night, Abby? Tell me the story."

I hesitate a moment. "It's not a great one..." I begin, and tell him the entire story. As I get to the part where he jumped in, remembrance lights up in his eyes.

"And after I got knocked out?" Steve pushes me to continue. "Did Loki escape? What happened?"

I pause. "Loki--" I start. Just retelling this bit is tying knots in my stomach. "He killed them..."

I don't want to look up to see Steve's face drop, but I can feel his heart break. He stands up abruptly, and begins pacing. Eventually, he speaks again. "All of them?"

I nod. "Except you and me..."

"That's not right," Steve continues. "I was built to protect people, but instead, ten thousand die because of me."

"It's not your fault," I assure him. "Or if it is, it's every bit as much mine. Don't blame yourself when somebody else does something wrong. It was up to them, not you."

"But I could have protected them," he insists. "I should be dead instead of them..."

"Believe me, I know how that feels..." There's a knock on the door. "I'll get it. Don't do anything stupid until I get back." I walk to the door, sort of embarrassed that I'm still in my pajamas.

When I open the door, a man who looks scarily like Mace Windu with an eye patch stands before me. "Ma'am, I am Director Nick Fury of SHIELD."

He is interrupted by Iron Man blasting the door off of its hinges and grabbing me by the throat. "I want answers. Now. Where is he? And if you even try to tell me that you don't know what I'm talking about, I'll--"

"Stark," Director Fury scolds, "leave the civilian alone."

I push his arm off. "Yeah, Stark. And just for your information, you can pay for that door with your billionaire-ness."

"Ma'am, we're interested in the whereabouts of Captain America or Steve Rogers. We've traced him as far as here."

At that moment, Steve walks in, his bowl of cereal in his hand. "Abby--" He sees his two accomplices and freezes in his tracks.

"Gentlemen," I announce sarcastically, "it appears you've caught me."

Director Fury speaks again, "And where have you been, Captain Rogers?"

"Unconscious, but alive thanks to her," Steve announces.

"Care to elaborate?" Director Fury asks, but it's fairly evident that it's no request.

"Well, why don't you all come in?" I invite "We're having a party over sugar cereal and white milk. Telling stories, doing drugs, lots of fun."

"I think we'll take you up on that offer, ma'am, if you don't mind," Fury tells me.

"Not at all. The more the merrier, right?" With that I march to the kitchen to be followed by the three. Fury asks me to relay my story once more, which I do, though it pleases me none.

"So, wait a second," Stark interrupts. "You stood up to Reindeer Games... Do you have a death wish?"

"Yes, actually, but that's not important. I've yet to see the check for my door..."

Stark sighs and whips out a checkbook seemingly out of nowhere, but for all the damage he does, he probably has a compartment in his suit specially built for it.

"Miss Brandon, you say that Loki asked you to join his army? As a leader?" Fury interrogates.

"I know as much as you do at this point," I remind him. "I don't know what he was thinking. It doesn't make sense to me either."

"And after that he just let you go? With Captain Rogers?"

I pause. "Actually, I don't think he knew about that last part. No offense or anything, Steve, but he probably thought I was incapable of hauling your dead weight around and didn't even worry about it."

"It seems unlikely to me," Fury says.

"Sir, I don't know what else to tell you. The last thing I remember about yesterday was crashing on my couch and wanting to forget the whole thing..."

No one says anything for a while, but then the Director stands. "We'll leave you alone now, ma'am. We apologize for the trouble."

I shake my head. "No trouble, except the door..." I glare at Stark.

"Real sorry about that," Stark apologizes, but it's less than sincere. "This should cover it." He hands out a slip of paper to me.

I read the check and almost choke. It's worth ten-thousand dollars! My first thought is, What kind of door do you think I'm getting? Luckily, I hold my tongue and slip the check into the pocket of my pants. "Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you very much."

Before walking out what's left of the door, Steve glances over his shoulder. "Thanks again."

"No problem," I assure him.

By the time they're completely gone, I feel as if I've run two marathons in a half-hour. Reliving the whole experience was not high on my priority list today, but now that I've done it, there's no way I'm going to work. I call in sick, but it's hardly as though anybody cares. Yesterday was the biggest tragedy the world has seen in years. And I was at the heart of it. In fact, I met the man who caused it.

Loki spared my life, and I don't know why. It's driving me crazy just thinking about it. There has to be a reason. A maniac like him doesn't just get a sudden mercy-streak. I hate that there's a possibility that I'm playing right into his hands. Nevertheless, whether I am or not, it still feels like he's breathing down my neck. Even in the safety of my own home.