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He's a wing down and a man short. Sam knows that all that keeps him hanging with the likes of Mystery Man and Captain America are the wings and without one, he's got to ground himself before he becomes more of a liability than a help. If you'd told him last month that he'd be staging an air assault against S.H.I.E.L.D and their souped up helicarriers, he'd have told you that you were insane and given some recommendations for good psychiatric care at the VA but Sam isn't laughing now and he's thinking that he's the one in need of good psychiatric care.

But damn, it feels good to be fighting the good fight again and it feels even better to know that Captain America himself is depending on him. It feels better than flying sky high with nothing but a set of metal wings strapped to his back and Sam had been pretty sure there was nothing that compared to the exhilaration of that.

Except this.

He takes a landing that isn't so much graceful as functional through one of the blown-out windows of the Triskelion and starts pulling at doors, trying to find the best escape route. Since most of the good guys are technically Hydra's guys at this point, Sam's not sure who to trust. He wrenches open a utility door that looks promising; maybe it heads down an old, unused maintenance hallway and he can find a way out without tripping all the guards from here to Arlington.

The decor doesn't seem to match the door. Instead of the utilitarian metal and concrete that's the hallmark of most government buildings, this one leads to plush carpeting and warm, cheery decor. It looks like a damn vacation compared to where he just came from and Sam cranes his neck to see around the corner as best he can, hoping he doesn't get shot while he's pulling his worst Roadrunner impersonation. That would be a damn mess. Rogers would probably try to spin it during his funeral that he died a hero but he thinks at least Romanoff would be snickering in the background. Can't get anything past her. He doesn't get shot (this time) and decides that maybe it's worth the risk. The halls seem empty of personnel, friendly or not, and maybe it's a chance to get the hell out and get somewhere that he can coordinate back with his team.

He likes the sound of that, being part of a team again, and grins to himself as he carefully works his way down the hall, trying to look as nondescript as possible. That's a little hampered by the twisted, broken wing attached to his back but maybe anyone he runs into will be so damn shocked that they won't notice he's only half a bird right now. Maybe.

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"I'm Jemma Simmons, with..." She pauses, because she's not with anyone, not any longer. How exactly does this work? What happens to the business cards, to the networking she's done? "Well, I suppose it's not SHIELD anymore," she says finally. "We managed to get our team out in time, though...not all of us were uncompromised."

"Damn. That's hard," Sam says but it feels a little empty because how do you comfort someone who just had her whole world turned upside down?

"Well, promise you, I'm one of the good guys. Maybe we'll just get a new team name, right?"

She doesn't know if she trusts anyone at the moment (outside Fitz), but the truth is that Sam Wilson seems to be a likely candidate for someone who can be trusted. After all, if Captain America is on his side, then she can't really protest that. "It's such a shame," she says, mournfully. "I had just gotten used to reciting the acronym when someone asked what it stood for."

"Are you considering joining up, then?" she asks curiously.

"I'll volunteer, if they want me," Sam says. He's always been willing to volunteer to do something hard - it's how he'd ended up in the Air Force to begin with. Steve inspires him to be the best he can and to take pride in something and it's hard not to want to help him.

"You guys have any kind of official set up here or what?"

"It's really only Fitz and I here," Simmons admits, which has been rather helpful at the same time as it's been frustrating to be without full resources. "We have a room set up with some tests. There was a time I could go back and get additional resources, but I'm afraid that time is over, now."

"Yeah I wouldn't recommend that," Sam says. He speaks from first hand experience on that and doesn't want Jemma getting hurt trying to get some computer or something.

"Your department get hit hard with the HYDRA thing, then?"

Simmons' face goes blank at the same time that her eyes water slightly, a combination of the stoicism and the hurt she's been fighting with since everything happened. "One of our team members turned out to be HYDRA, hiding under our noses the whole time." She hadn't wanted to believe it, but the evidence had been too damning.

"Always seems to come out of nowhere," Sam agrees. He doesn't have as much experience with it as, say, Steve but he as a soldier and private citizen liked to think of SHIELD as the good guys and not a bunch of hidden snakes.

"Well, if I have anything to do with it, we're going to clean house and get the HYDRA out and the good guys back in. I'm sure there's more of you than them anyway."

"I'm not so sure about that, but I'd like to think it's true," Simmons says with a nod of her head, feeling a little off-kilter, still. "We're hiding out in a motel, and it feels a little like we're being hunted by the government. When I joined up all those years ago, I hadn't thought of myself as a fugitive. I hardly have the cardio endurance to be on the run."

"We can work on that. I've been training with Captain America," Sam says, flashing a broad grin at Jemma. If there's anything he is good at, he's definitely good at PT when it's not compared to a super soldier.

"I mean, if you want. Makes me feel a lot less helpless."

If she's allowed to work with both Sam and Sif, then she might become a fiercesome warrior to be reckoned with. "Can we please start at the very, very beginning, where you might start with a lazy child?" she suggests hopefully, given that she's not an athlete by any means, if her failed field exam is any inclination.

"If you think that's what you can handle, sure," Sam says, skeptical.

"But you're probably not that bad. Nobody can be that bad."

"I'm pretty bad," Simmons promises because her physical stamina really isn't something to marvel at. "I'm a scientist. I spend my days looking down a microscope. Ask me to take a look at an eye chart from a distance away," she boasts heartily, "and I will have no problem with that."

"Well, we can start slow. A little cardio, a little strength training. Maybe a little hand to hand? Just enough so you can defend yourself," Sam decides.

There's no point in turning her into a super soldier or anything but everyone should have a few skills just to keep them safe if something comes up.

She wished that she had known those sorts of things a few weeks ago, not that she would really know what to do with skills like those. "Well, anything you can offer me is more than I've ever been given." After all, it's hardly as if she's come very far and she would like to be better. Not May or Coulson or Hill, but better.

"Maybe you and the Lady Sif could train me together?" she suggests hopefully, thinking it would be a marvelous display.

"She's here? Yeah, sure," Sam says, his eyes lighting up a little at the prospect of meeting one of the famous Asgardians. He's relatively new at this whole superhero gig and he doesn't know everyone yet. It's going to be fun putting names to faces, that's for sure.

"If she wants to train with a punk like me, that is."

Simmons smile is broad and without worry, now, so happy to be in a position to learn and improve. It's enough to make her forget about the issues at home and she's exceptionally pleased to have someone as wonderful as Sam Wilson giving her the chance to train and work with them. "So long as you both promise not to get so caught up in proving your worth to each other that I get forgotten," she insists.

"Not a chance. First and foremost, there to train you," he promises. The idea of training someone who isn't a superhuman is kind of appealing, honestly, because there's no real keeping up with Steve and even Natasha has higher level training than Sam ever got in the Air Force.