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Sam has never been the best with idle time. He's always wanted to be on the move somehow, be that as an active duty officer or just running around the Mall and being in the hotel makes him a little stir crazy. While he's aware that the current HYDRA situation means he probably shouldn't try to go make himself a hero back home, it leaves him a little at loose ends otherwise.

So he decides to start exploring doors. Some of them are easy enough to figure out - Disneyland is always a classic. Some of them are a hell of a lot more complicated and he's not sure why he decided heading into an unknown jungle was a good idea but now he's deep in the thick of it, the canopy of trees making it where he can't get a good idea of his bearings. The door is long gone, far behind him, and ahead of him is...well shit.

"That is a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are supposed to be dead." Except, apparently, not when you choose the random jungle door and end up in Jurassic Park.

(Sam isn't going to be surprised if someone tells him that it is Jurassic Park. His life is just weird and strange enough for something like that to be an every day occurrence.)

The dinosaur in particular is a T-rex and he thinks, if he keeps very still, maybe he can get out of this one alive. Still, that being said, he wishes he had his wings and some firepower to help even up the odds.

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Simmons had only been opening the door to go to the lab, she had only been going to the lab, but suddenly she is opening a door right on what looks immensely like a dinosaur that she had assembled the bones of, as a child. "Sam!" she cries, frozen in place with her eyes wide open. Her hand is frozen on the door and she gives a panicked little sound. "Do you have a plan? Or should I keep standing precisely where I am and hoping men with very big, very fiery guns are somewhere near?"

"Don't move," Sam yells back. The last thing he wants is for Jemma to get hurt just because he decided he needed a little more excitement in his life.

"What the hell are you doing in here anyway?"

"I opened a door!" she yells at him, all the panic pooling in her eyes, which meant there was an abnormal amount of panic lingering in her eyes right now. She's stuck where she stands and feels like this is as bad as Hydra, all over. And she'd just got her hair done and cut. This is the very last place she wants to be eaten alive.

"Honestly, zombies and now dinosaurs, am I slathered in barbeque sauce and I've not noticed?"

Sam needs a moment to think. Actually, he needs more than a moment but he thinks a moment is about all he's going to get. Somehow, he needs to make the dinosaur think he's in a place he's not and that's going to involve some creativity.

There's birds all over the jungle and the one thing about birds is that they're very easily startled...and with very little effort. He picks up a rock and aims it toward where a whole slew of birds are roosting, causing them to squawk and rise up in flight. The t-rex turns and Sam cuts across to Jemma as quick as he can. Maybe he can do a 4 minute mile but that's on a track, not cross country, and this is a little slower than he wants.

"I've got you. Now, while he's distracted, we're going to get the hell out of here. Follow me." He thinks if he can circle around behind the t-rex while it's distracted, they can get out of here and get to somewhere safer. There's other dinosaurs around, he's sure, but he'll settle for not being face to face with the giant toothy one for the moment.

Simmons is being rescued quite a lot lately, which is something she should probably object to. First Fury, then Bobbi, and now this. Honestly, it's like she's plastered a sign on her back that says 'yes, please, I am in distress and require your aid.' She gives Sam a distressed look. "What's going to happen? Are we about to be eaten? Where do you think we can go?"

"We need to get back to the door. For now, though, I think we should try to keep as low a profile as we can so that we don't bring any attention to ourselves. The T-rex can't be the only thing out here who wants to eat us."

Sam isn't so much worried about himself as he is Jemma and he wants to make sure she stays safe. He knows enough about her to know that she might get...distracted by the prospect of some scientific research and he doesn't anticipate getting back to the door without stopping for something.

"Yes, of course it's not the only threat, there are any numbers of predators roaming about this period," she rambles, which is supposed to be making herself feel better, but the trouble is that it's only beginning to make her feel much worse. "I think maybe we should talk about the herbivores, don't you?"

"Maybe you ought to tell me everything you know about it," Sam says. He thinks this might serve two purposes - one, he'll know exactly what he's up against if they run into some of the local, unfriendly wildlife and two, it might distract Jemma so she's not scared.

"Knowledge is power, right?"

"Well," she says to begin, even though she's not exactly an expert on this period of the Earth as she'd turned her attention to alien technology rather than that of history with the dinosaurs in mind. "The primary thing about herbivores that I truly adore at this moment is that none of them want to eat us," she points out, voice a touch brittle with the stress of their situation. "I always fancied the brontosaurus' my favourite. Did you have one? A favourite?"

"I like the flying ones. Pterodactyls?" Sam thinks that's the correct name but luckily for him, Jemma's got at least a hundred IQ points on him and she can correct him if need be. Sam has no doubt in his mind that she's going to be able to run circles around him mentally.

"I've always liked to fly, I guess."

"Oh, well, that's good," she says, fixated on thoughts of this instead of spending all of her time searching around for a door. "You know, they're probably still roaming around the earth to some degree. Not the pterodactyls likely, but some of the more ocean-based creatures that existed at the same time. Even if life died out, the conditions at sea would have been primed for continued evolution..." She glances upwards. "No flying out of here, then, I suppose?"

"No wings," Sam says ruefully. "I'm still trying to get them repaired. It's a slow go, since we don't have all the resources of the US government here." And, well, that situation is complicated back home too - the hotel is a lot more stable.

The humidity in the jungle is cloying and Sam is already breathing heavily. He doesn't know how far they should try to circle around before making their way back to the door - neither of them have supplies for a long stay.

"Want to try to find some water? We can see if the door is safe and make our way back afterward."

"We should look for a flowing source of water, like a river," Simmons says, taking in her environment with great wariness, given that she worries that it's only a matter of time before something ends up jumping out of the trees. "Something stagnant might attract more of the dinosaurs, which means that our safety could be compromised."

She wipes away at the sweat on her forehead, knowing that they will need water soon. "I don't suppose you have a canteen or is that property of the US government, too?"

"No canteen but we can drink from some of those broad leaves," Sam says, plucking one off one of the trees as they walk by. "It will do well enough and we can use our hands, too."

Sam doesn't know if Jemma's ever been out in the field before but he has and he thinks jungles are probably better than deserts water wise.

"Right, yes, okay," she agrees, and thinks that this is definitely more field-work than she had ever wanted, even after Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD and forced her into a more active role (though it's not their fault, it's hers, because of how she was around Fitz, because of the way he acted around her). "Have you seen any structures?" she wonders. "We could seek safety out in one of them."

"Provided the wildlife hasn't broken in," Sam says. He's not entirely sure there's not other types of dinosaurs perfectly capable of that kind of thing and he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a nasty surprise. "We can make for one of the observation stations," he says, pointing one out on the horizon. "Wait it out, double back to the door? Sound good to you?"

"Observation station will be in a good position, and there will be doors," she agrees, feeling like she's clinging onto that notion as desperately as she possibly can given the likelihood of rescue. "That, or I suppose I'll have to be glad that I managed to put my will in order," she tries to joke in a whisper, though it comes out rather wary.

They don't have a lot of time to make decisions or stay out in the open but Sam reaches for her hand and squeezes it quickly before dropping it to start heading toward shelter.

"You've got this, Jemma. We're going to hike over there, set ourselves up good to see everything and we're going to double back when it's safe. Got it?"

She reaches out once he's let go of her hand, tightening her grip on it for just a moment longer because she needs that sort of reassurances. Then, though, she screws up all her courage and nods, ready to walk in his shadow and do whatever it is he instructs. "Okay," she agrees. "I'm ready. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

And maybe she'll stop wandering through doors that want her dead, eventually.

Sam is pretty impressed with her nerve. He's battle trained and battle tested but Jemma is a scientist. It isn't a normal thing for her to be in harm's way and, if it is, maybe it shouldn't be. Nobody should be thrown into the crazy shit he's been thrown into since coming to the hotel unless they signed up for it specifically.

"Let's do this thing."

She nods, trying to throw logic and reason and calm to the wild. She won't survive if she keeps thinking about how much she'd rather be anywhere else but here, which is what she's learned in this mess with Hydra. Creeping onwards, she gets ready, telling herself over and over that they're going to the Observation Area and she's going to see if they can fashion some defense -- or better yet, find a door. Creeping a little faster, she thinks she's ready to start a run, because it's quiet enough around her.

She can do this. She's got Sam to help her, and she can do this. Really! It's just...immensely terrifying.

"Run," Sam whispers harshly. He wants to bring up the rear and let Jemma go first - maybe she'll have a chance to get into shelter if he's covering her six. "I've got you. Just run for it!"

She lets out a small sound, but then her brain shuts off and she does exactly what he's saying. She runs, runs like she's had to far too often, but it's possible that carnivorous dinosaurs are a tad worse than Hydra, but only barely.

So she runs, and only when she sees a structure does she stop to desperately pant and try and catch her breath. "I'm not really," she gasps, "field-ready."

"You're doing fine," Sam insists. She really is. She hasn't gotten hurt and they've covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time. "Let's just hide out for a little while until it's safe to make a break back toward the door and the hotel."

She hates that she is doing fine. She remembers when she was awful, beyond awful, at this, and no one cared because it's not what she's meant to do. Breathing wheezily, she calms her mind of those thoughts again, sliding her back up against the nearest hard surface. "What I wouldn't give for a night-night giun right about now."

"Yeah? What's that do?" Sam could use a little levity at the moment and he thinks Jemma probably could too. Maybe there's some humor to be found in the fact that they've escaped with their skins for the moment and aren't looking death in the face just yet.

"It's pretty much exactly what it proposes to be," she admits, given that they might have been creative in the inventing of it, but when it'd come to names, they'd sort of fallen down on the job. "It's a sedative gun, that can render someone unconscious without actually huting them in any permanent way. Comes in incredibly handy."

And it would help with dinosaurs quite a bit!

"Yeah, too bad we don't have that. Next time, though, right? I'm sure you want to get in here and do research." Sam has a bit of a thing for Jemma, which he doesn't think is going to be shocking to anyone, and wishes she had the same thing for him. It doesn't seem that's the case but he's pretty hopeful anyway.

"Don't mind coming back in here once we're geared up for it."

"If I could ensure that I had a perimetre fence under my control with the ability to shock and incapacitate, then I would absolutely love to do research," she confirms with a slow, eager nod of her head (tinged with terror). "I've grown a little wary of field shenanigans," she confesses. "Proper precautions are very yearned for, nowadays."

"Well, that's kind of a specific request," Sam says, laughing a little. "Still, we've got sometime. I guess you could make a list of everything you need and we could figure out how to get it? There's enough scientists around. We could figure it out."

"I'm a very specific woman in dangerous situations," she replies, trying to keep light and levity in the air. Her smile is definitely subdued, of course, nowhere near where it ought to be as she regards him. "I'd settle for getting home in one piece right now."

"I'm going to get you back," Sam assures her. "You can trust that, right? That I know what I'm doing?" Sam has spent most of his adult life on one battlefield or another, helping the injured. He thinks he can get them out of this in one piece.

She nods quickly, because she has a lot of trust in certain people. It's probably a mistake what with Ward betraying them, but Simmons always has learned the hard way. "I do, I do trust you," she vows. "Which, I hope you won't take as an opening to betray me. I'm fairly sure I can only take one of those a year."

"Uh, no. My closest friend is Captain America," he reminds her. "And that's pretty much guaranteed to be loyalty all the way. I went through the same thing, the whole HYDRA thing. I'm not going to betray you, Jemma."

"Have you met Phil Coulson yet?" she wonders. "I think he might be rather jealous of your friendship with Captain Rogers." They'd had to listen to all that for a long, long time. "Of course, my idols tend far more towards Agent Carter," she shares, a dazed and fond look on her face. "She's amazing," she shares with a bright grin, happy to hear that she's not going to be betrayed.

"And thank you for saying. I know it might be a lot to ask to hear aloud, but after what we went through, it doesn't hurt to check."

"I bleed red, white and blue," he promises. "And I'm going to get us out of here. Agent Coulson's going to have to just take a backseat to my claim to Captain America fame for the time being."

Sam scans the horizon and sees the t-rex has headed off in the other direction. "Jemma, we should make a break for it. Run straight from here to the door. Don't look, don't stop, just run. I'll be right behind you."

She doesn't like running and if she gets out of these antics alive, Jemma is going to institute a no-running policy that generally covers all areas of her life. She feels like that's really the only possible way things will work because she is so very tired of running. Still, dinosaurs are only slightly less to be reasoned with than Hydra agents and when Sam gives her the signal to run, that's exactly what she does, bolting for the door.

When she gets there, she draws it open and sees the sweet and lovely carpeting of the lobby. "Oh, thank God," she hiccups, staring for Sam. "Hurry! Through here!"

Sam basically throws himself through the door and when he crashes through, he rolls awkwardly on his shoulder. "Shit," he hisses, but the pain is nothing when he's more concerned about Jemma.

"You good, Jemma? Everything okay?"

"I think..." With another haul of breath, she lets her back hit the wall so she can slide down, trying not to think about how much she would have liked to see some of the dinosaurs if they hadn't been attempting to eat her. "I think I can't breathe," she admits, even if she's panting and wheezing, thinking about getting in shape now more than ever.

Sam chuckles a little. "Nothing like a little dinosaur circuit training to get your heart rate up, right? Just a light workout."

"I really want to stop having my workouts come from near-death experiences," she says, a bit glumly considering how frequently they come, now. Honestly, it's a bit unfortunate that she's gotten to the point where she's begun to expect it, now.

He almost closes the door without going through.

There is a moment, hand braced upon the knob, wherein he takes half a step back, none of this of interest or his business. He is certain it is Wilson's back he can see up ahead through the trees, but Wilson is Rogers' friend, not his own, and he ought to have taken more care. There are monsters lurking behind some of these doors, the fact is well known.

(There are monsters lurking in front of them, too. He may be one of them.)

Something stops him, however, before he's pulled the door shut: A tug, barely there at the back of his mind, shaped like the disappointed face of Steve Rogers.

Sighing through his nose, he props the door open with a convenient branch and slips silently through into the brush. He is a shadow as he moves closer and then drops into a crouch behind a tree. The animal's hide is thick and he really should have brought something more powerful than his sidearm.

Sam hears something. It's difficult to tell what it is but he has enough training to be able to discern that this something is a hell of a lot bigger than a bird and a hell of a lot smaller than a T-rex.

That, of course, leaves a lot of room in between for Very Bad Things and Sam isn't exactly looking to be caught off guard. What's he going to do? He doesn't have a weapon and his only escape mechanism is being blocked by a giant dinosaur with razor-sharp teeth. He thinks for now, the best thing to do is to wait and try to appear as non-threatening as possible. Not interesting, not a threat, nothing to see here.

Stealth has never been his thing. Sam has always been more about playing the hero.

A moment more he waits, crouched low in the foliage, eyes sharply scanning the area around all three of them: Men and lizard. Indecision twists low and sickly in his stomach, the feeling of it entirely wrong. He was crafted to be decisive, to be ruthless, not to second guess.

He came up with no less than six different ways to get them both safely out of here from the first ten seconds he was through the door. That isn't the problem. It's whether Wilson will let him.

He has no idea what Rogers may have told his friend since DC, can't know whether it would make any difference if it did. His intuition fails him in a lot of things in this new identity, but he feels certain of this: Were it him in Wilson's place, he wouldn't trust himself.

The Rex isn't interested in his internal debates, however, and swings its massive head closer, spurring him into motion. He stands slowly, right hand splayed before him in silent instruction to Wilson: Don't move.

Of all people he expected to see in the middle of the dinosaur jungle, Winter Soldier isn't it. Sam isn't sure whether or not he should trust the guy isn't going to try to take him out but when caught between a T-Rex and an assassin, choices are few and far between. Damn.

He stands stock still except to nod once, a quick bobble of his chin, just to let him know he got the message loud and clear.

Standing as still as Wilson is, the creature might as well not see him at all, its lower jaw coming within scant feet of the top of Wilson's head as if he were no more interesting than the foliage. If it's sighting by scent, it's no better at that than seeing.

If he can slip back into the shadows, he should be able to move swiftly and silently to a position far enough removed that discharging his sidearm will provide Wilson the distraction he needs to escape. He takes one slow backwards step and is dropping into a crouch again when the sun pushes through the gray clouds and reflects off his left arm like a beacon.

There is little time to do more than shout roughly at Wilson to run before he himself is running away from the door, dodging around tree trunks as the jungle behind him explodes with pursuit.

Sam doesn't need much encouragement to run. Whether it's death by T-rex or death by Super Soldier, he's not really interested in either prospect. While Steve's a good friend, sometimes he wonders if he's worth all the hassle he's brought into his life.

(Answer? Yes.)

Sam runs like hell for the door and something stops him and makes him turn back. Is Barnes coming through too?

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