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Chapter Text

Steven Rogers sat on his bed in his room in Avengers Mansion, staring at an image of a man he hadn’t seen in sixty-five years. The man’s stark blue eyes and chiseled jaw mirrored his own. His expression was serious, although it had always been that way. Unlike Steve, the man’s hair was reddish-brown instead of blond. Steve had already read through the file that Fury had given him, memorizing every minute detail.

The man was Douglas Rogers, Steve’s younger brother.

XXXXX

            Europe. Early 1943. Everyone kept talking about how the war was going to be over by Christmas. Just as they had in previous years. This particular evening, Steve and the Howling Commandos were preparing to confront the Red Skull once and for all. Tensions were high and everyone had decided to head to the nearest bar to blow off some steam.

            That evening, the bar was completely packed. Steve could barely walk without bumping into American, British, French, or soldiers from the numerous other countries involved.

            “I’ll get the next round,” said Steve, already pushing his chair away from the table.

            “See, that’s why you’re the best,” said Dum Dum Dugan with a grin. “To the Captain!”

            The other Howling Commandos echoed the toast before draining their mugs. Steve collected as many as he could in both hands, before making his way to the counter. A tall, thin man with black hair stood behind the bar.

            “Can I get a refill for all of these, please?” Steve asked, sliding each tankard across the counter.

            The bartender looked from the mugs to Steve.

            “I’ll see what I can do,” said the man with an Italian accent. He took two cups at a time to the open keg in the back.

            “Must be nice, getting all the good missions,” said a familiar voice.

            Steve whipped his head to where he heard the sound of the voice. He found a man with auburn hair sitting at the bar and holding a mug of what Steve assumed was beer.

            “This isn’t a glory-seeking mission,” Steve said, feeling his anger rise to the surface.

            Douglas scoffed as he downed the rest of his mug. “Could’ve fooled me.”

            The bartender soon reappeared with both tankards full, before grabbing two more and returning to the keg.

            “What we’re doing is extremely dangerous,” Steve continued, trying his best to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I haven’t purposely-“

            “But you have!” Douglas said, slamming his empty mug on the counter. “You’ve deliberately kept me from the front. All so you can get the glory.”

            “That’s not what I’ve been doing at all,” Steve said, shaking his head.

            The bartender reappeared once again to deliver full mugs, before taking the last two cups and going back to the keg.

            “Whatever, you say, Captain,” said Douglas, rolling his bright blue eyes. He then shifted his gaze to the bartender. “Hey barkeep, can I get another round over here?”

XXXXX

Steve gently brushed his thumb over the edge of the sepia photograph.

“I’m so sorry, Douglas,” he murmured. “I promise, I’ll make things right.”

Chapter Text

Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Douglas Rogers trudged through the tiny kitchen, the spacious dining room, and into the living room. Sitting in his favorite red recliner, he placed his can of Budweiser on the nearby coaster. He then grabbed the remote and turned on the television. A female reporter with light tan skin and long brunette hair spoke.

            “In breaking news, an apartment building on the corner of East Fifty-Seventh Street and Third Avenue burned down. The builder’s owner is currently uncertain of how it happened but the investigation is ongoing. However, sources say that Captain America was on the scene.”

At that moment, an image of the red, white, and blue vigilante appeared on TV. He held his iconic circular shield, looking ready to spring into action.

            Douglas glared at the screen as he opened his beer, before taking a long swig.

            Of course, he was there, he thought.

            When Captain America had initially been unfrozen, Douglas thought he was going senile. But, as the days turned into weeks, and more news outlets covered the Captain’s return, Douglas had been forced to accept the inevitable truth. Now, instead of disbelief, his blood just boiled.

            “Sources say The Captain helped save everyone from the flames, including some of its youngest residents,” the reporter continued.

            Just then, the image of Captain America was replaced by a little girl with dark brown skin and dark pigtails. In her arms was a charred teddy bear.

            “He jumped through my bedroom window and he saved me,” said the little girl, her expression bright and cheerful.

            “Is there anything you’d like to say to Captain America, young lady?” the tan-skinned male reporter asked, bending down and placing the microphone in front of her.

            “If he’s out there, wherever he is, I’d just want to say thank you,” the little girl said. “Thank you so much.”

            Of course, he jumped through that window, Douglas thought, taking another swig of beer. Leave it to him to make saving a kid heroic.

XXXXX

            Italy, 1942. Sergeant Douglas Rogers had been put in charge of holding some local villages. His superior officers wanted him to report to Captain America about the state of affairs within the area.

            As he paced back and forth in his tent, he ran a hand through his hair. He desperately needed to cut it, but he hadn’t had the time nor the energy to do so.

            They said he would be here around 1300, thought Douglas. What’s taking him so long?

            His hands clenched into fists as he kept pacing. There was a desk in front of him with a map spread across the surface. Just then, the tent flap opened and Douglas stood at attention. The man who entered wore a red, white, and blue spandex costume complete with an ‘A’ on his forehead and wings on the side of his head.

Recognition hit Douglas like a truck, even as he did his best to maintain his composure. Despite the costume, Douglas recognized his older brother.

            “Sorry I’m late,” said the star-spangled man.

            “Steve, is that you?” Douglas asked.

            Steve drummed his fingers on the handlebars of his motorcycle as he waited at a four-way stop. He was surrounded by other vehicles on all sides. A million questions raced through his mind as he waited for the light to turn green.

            After reading Douglas’s file, he decided he was going to try visiting his brother. Although it had been several decades, Douglas was one of the few people he had left from his old life. From his life before The Avengers.

            Will he even recognize me? Steve thought. Does he even remember me?

            Just then, the light changed from red to green and Steve removed his foot from the break. He slowly turned left and onto a street with picture-perfect houses. He parked near a charming white house surrounded by a white picket fence. As he grew closer, he smiled upon seeing a man with salt and pepper hair pushing a young blond boy on a tire swing in the front yard.

            That must be Douglas’s son, Mark, and his grandson Evan, thought Steve.

            He removed his helmet and placed it on one of the motorcycle handlebars before walking toward the house.

            “Hello, sorry to bother you, sir, but does a Douglas Rogers live here?” he asked.

            Mark moved away from the tire swing before shifting his gaze to Steve.

            “How do you know my father?” Mark asked.

            I can’t exactly tell Mark the truth about my relationship with his father, Steve thought. He wouldn’t believe me.

            “He and my grandfather served together,” he replied. “My grandfather spoke very fondly of Douglas. I came because was hoping to pay my respects.”

            “Well, it’s nice to know that Dad still has army buddies even after all this time. Let me go inside and ask him,” said Mark. He looked back at Evan now.  “I’ll be back outside in a minute, buddy.”

            As Mark turned and walked up the front porch steps, Steve inched closer to Evan.

            “How old are you, young man?” he asked.

            Evan slowed his swinging as his blue eyes, Douglas’s blue eyes, moved to Steve.

            “Six,” he said quietly.

            He’s so shy, thought Steve. Just like I was at his age.

            “Six is a good age. What grade are you in?” he asked.

            Evan dragged his feet against the ground, bringing up dust as he slowed his swing even more.

            “I’m in kindergarten,” he answered.

            Just then, Mark reappeared with Douglas, who limped close behind.

            Must’ve been that wound he acquired in Korea, Steve thought.

He shifted his gaze to his brother. Douglas’s reddish-brown hair had turned gray and his clothes looked freshly pressed and immaculate.

            Mom always instilled a sense of neatness in us, thought Steve.

            Mark led Douglas downstairs and toward the fence. As Douglas grew closer, his steel blue eyes, a mirror of Steve’s own, zeroed in on him.

            “This is the man, Dad,” said Mark, gesturing to Steve.

            Mark returned to pushing Evan on the swing while Douglas stared at his brother. Standing up a little straighter, Steve was about to extend his hand when Douglas’s brows furrowed and a serious frown formed on his face. He turned the full force of his glare upon his older brother.

            “You’ve got some nerve coming here,” said Douglas. “Paying your respects? That’s rich.”

            I don’t know how much Douglas has told Mark and Evan about me, thought Steve. And I don’t really relish having this conversation in front of them either.

            “I just wanted to talk, Douglas,” he said.

And it was the truth. If there was anything Steve had learned from his time in the ice, it was that he would never again take his relationships for granted.

            “I don’t know how you fooled my son, but I won’t be so easily duped,” said Douglas, his body going rigid as fury blazed in his eyes. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

            Without another word, Douglas turned and walked back toward the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Mark’s brown eyes widen. Steve then shifted his gaze back to Mark and nodded.

            “Thanks for your time, sir,” he said, before walking away.

            Steve tried not to let the sting of Douglas’s rejection hurt him. But even as he got on his motorcycle and drove away, his younger brother’s words cut deeper than any physical wound he’d ever received.

            I’m so sorry, Douglas. I hope someday you’ll change your mind.

            “Dad, what the heck was that about?” Mark asked, turning around to look at Douglas.

            You wouldn’t understand, Douglas thought, watching his older brother ride away out of the corner of his eye.

            He could feel the weight of his son’s gaze on him as Douglas stood on the front porch. With one hand, he reached toward the front door.

            “What’s wrong, Grandpa?” Evan asked from the swing, twisting toward Douglas.

            Damn, I can’t very well ignore Evan, thought Douglas.

            He turned to look at Evan and Mark.

            “Grandpa’s just tired, Evan,” was all he said.

            Shifting his gaze back to the front door, he opened it and entered the house.

Chapter Text

Steve rode back to Avengers Mansion, parked his motorcycle in the garage, and walked through the elaborate front gates. As he grew closer to the front door, Janet Van Dyne opened it and smiled at him.

            “So, how’d it go?” she asked.

            If this had been almost anyone else, Steve would’ve given a vague response before giving an equally ambiguous response.

            I can’t lie to her, Steve thought. She’s such a ray of sunshine. The Avengers are better for having around.

            “Not as well as it could have,” he replied, upon reaching the front porch. “Are the others home?”

            “Tony and Thor are out on patrol, Psyche is at work, and Hank’s in his lab,” Jan replied, opening the door wider. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

            She moved out of the doorway as Steve entered the mansion.

            “Thank you,” he said with a sad smile on his face.

            “Welcome back, Sir,” said Jarvis.

            “Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve said, mentally reminding himself that he was speaking to someone, even if they weren’t physically present. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the training room.”

            He could tell by the concerned expression on Jan’s face she wanted to object. Instead, she simply nodded.

            “I understand,” she said.

            He walked past her and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh.

            Where did things go so wrong, thought Steve.

XXXXX

            Lower East Side, Manhattan. 1925.

            The apartment Steve, Douglas, and his parents lived in was barely large for them. Their mother, Sarah Rogers, stood near the stove as she cooked breakfast. Their father, Joseph Rogers, sat on the couch listening to the radio. A young Steve and Douglas played with their new train on the bare rug near the couch.

            “But I want to make it go faster,” Douglas whined.

            “And I want to make it go slower,” Steve said.

            The remote control sat between the pair.

            “Quiet boys, I’m trying to hear this,” their father snapped, as he reached over to turn up the radio.

            As the newscaster droned on, both boys reached for the black remote control at the same time. Douglas’s hand touched it first, and he yanked it away from Steve. Steve cried out and their father reached down and smacked both of them on the side of the head.

            Steve knew better than to react, so he just held his head. From his place on the rug, he could see tears appear in Douglas’s eyes.

            “That’s enough boys,” their father said. He snatched the remote control from Douglas’s hand and put it in his pocket. He then turned off the radio, pushed off the couch, and stood up. “If you two can’t play nice with it, then you don’t get to play with it at all.”

            Their father stomped out of the room and down the hallway, opening and slamming his bedroom door closed.

            Their mother turned to them with her brows knitted together and a frown marring her face.

            “I’m so sorry, boys,” she said. “Are you both all right?”

            She looked between them now as Steve turned to his brother.

            “I’m sorry, Douglas,” he said.

            Guilt filled him as he reached for his younger brother. Tears appeared in Douglas’s eyes and he furiously wiped them away with his arms.

            “Whatever, I didn’t want to play with this stupid toy anyway,” Douglas said.

            He quickly stood up and rushed past their mother and down the hall. Steve walked toward his mother, who bent down and stretched out her arms.

XXXXX

            “Steve, are you ok?” Jan asked.

            Pushing past painful memories aside, Steve stopped walking and turned around. As he looked at Jan, he noticed that her brows were knitted together and a slight frown marred her face.

            “I’m sorry I was lost in thought. What were you saying?” he asked.

            “I said if you ever need or want to talk, you know where I’ll be,” Jan replied.

            “Thank you, I appreciate it,” he said. “But this is something I need to deal with myself.”

            With that, he turned and resumed walking toward the training room.

            On the other side of the city, Douglas Rogers sat in a doctor’s office beside Mark.

waiting room. The room was small and square with an examination table and two armchairs and one stool.

            “What the heck is taking them so long?” Mark asked, lowering his paperback into his lap as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’d think with how much they hassle patients about being on time-“

            Just then, the door opened and a blonde woman wearing dark scrubs and a white lab coat entered the room followed by a young brunette nurse carrying a clipboard. Douglas recognized the brunette nurse, Sophie, as the same one who’d performed his physical exam earlier.

Mark stood up and walked toward the women while Douglas remained seated. He was too damned old to stand up every time someone significant entered the room and besides, his back was especially aching today.

Besides, the bastards are just going to talk about me like I’m not here anyway, Douglas thought.

            “Hello, I’m sorry for keeping you both waiting,” said the blonde doctor. “I’m Doctor Doyle.”

            “Doctor Doyle, Nurse Sophie, so good to see you,” Mark said, shaking Dr. Doyle’s hand.

            “Please, let’s all be seated,” Dr. Doyle said, gesturing to the nearby chairs and stool. “I figure you all have been waiting for long enough. Douglas, how are you feeling today? Nurse Sophie says you lost some weight.”

            Shit, they actually want me to participate in this, thought Douglas. I wasn’t expecting that.

            “Well, I haven’t been feeling any different lately,” he responded.

            “No changes in appetite? Stress level? What about exercise level?” Dr. Doyle asked and to each question, Douglas shook his head. “Very well. I’m going to check your breathing, is that alright?”

            Douglas nodded. “That’s fine.”

XXXXX

            Forty-five minutes later, Mark and Douglas sat in the car as Mark pulled out of the parking lot.

            “Well, Doctor Doyle seems to think you’re in perfect health,” Mark said. “That’s good.”

            “I was a soldier, Mark, we can’t afford to sit around and get fat,” Douglas replied.

            Mark cast him a sideways glance and Douglas noticed his son sizing him up.

            What’s that look for, he thought.

            “While it was a while ago, there are some things you just don’t forget,” he added. “Your mother, bless her, knew that.”

            Douglas’s wife, Winifred, had been understanding when it came to some of Douglas’s struggles. She’d been the patient person, the saint, Douglas had never been. Sadly, she’d passed a few years ago and shortly thereafter, Douglas had moved in with Mark and his family.

            “Yeah, mom was always so patient and understanding,” Mark answered.

            “She truly was,” Douglas agreed.

XXXXX

            New York City, August 1945.

            The city was sweltering, with everyone who was able to drive going to the nearest available shoreline. Douglas went a few miles to one of New York’s numerous beaches. A merciless blast of heat hit him as soon as he opened his motorcar door.

            Douglas ran a hand through his hair, which was practically sticking to his head. At that moment, he spotted an ice cream stand with on one in line yet. His stomach growled and he made a beeline for it, however, he abruptly stopped as soon as he bumped into a woman with short brunette hair.

            “Hello, I’m very sorry, could I cut in front of you for a second?” she asked, her gaze soft and sincere. “It’s just that-“

            “Sure,” said Douglas, without giving it a second thought.

            He took a step back and a beautiful smile appeared on the woman’s face.

            “Oh my goodness, thank you so much,” the woman replied, as she stepped in line in front of him.

XXXXX

            To this day, Douglas still hadn’t known what had possessed him to say yes. Maybe it had been her smile or her desperation. Either way, he’d never regretted his decision.

            I wish you were here, Winnie, he thought as he watched the buildings pass by out the window. I could really use your advice.

Chapter Text

One week after his initial meeting with Douglas, Steve rode his motorcycle through the streets of New York City. The early afternoon sun shone brightly as birds chirped and people hurried to and from their lunch destinations.

            Despite the heavy traffic, everything looks quiet so far, Steve thought as he reached a four-way intersection.

            He drummed his fingers along the handlebars while waiting at the red light as cars penned him in on either side. Once the light turned green, Steve waited as the other cars rushed ahead before he turned left. As he drove by a bank, he immediately heard gunshots and screams.

            Sounds like a robbery in progress, thought Steve.

            He pressed his motorcycle’s brakes, parked close to the building, and rushed inside. As soon as he opened the door, where he found a group of hostages lined up against one wall while the robbers coerced the bank tellers to stuff money into bags. All five of the burglars turned to face him.

            “I’m only going to say this once, friends, surrender,” Steve commanded.

            In his peripheral vision, he spotted Mark and Evan lined up with the other hostages. Evan’s blue eyes were wide, either in fear or surprise, Steve wasn’t sure.

            Shoot, Douglas’s son and grandson are here, he thought. Oh well, that can’t be helped now. I need to be careful.

            The bank robbers all shared a look.

            “Get him!” the leader shouted.

            The leader kept his pistol pressed against the back of the brunet bank teller’s head as the other four removed their guns and made their way toward Steve. He slid his shield off his back as they grew closer.

            “Have it your way, then,” he said.

Steve threw it into the air and ran toward the closest burglar. His shield flew through the air and knocked three of the robber’s weapons out of their hands. Steve punched the nearest thief, a man wielding a pistol, in the face. The man grunted and dropped his weapon, which Steve kicked in the opposite direction.

He extended his hand and his shield returned to him, which he held in front of himself as the other three robbers regained their pistols and fired at him. Steve kept the shield upright as the weaponless burglar ran toward him. Steve slowly angled the shield toward the man while keeping it slant, so that bullets didn’t hit him. The weaponless robber grunted as Steve’s shield knocked him to the ground.

            One down, four to go, he thought.

            He then tossed his shield again, and this time, each thief dropped their weapons. Steve caught his shield and followed up by kicking one robber in the knee. The second robber grunted as he slid back, while Steve followed up by smacking the other two in the face with his shield.

            “Boss, this guy’s kicking our asses here,” the remaining burglar said, partly looking over his shoulder at the leader. “We need your help!”

            “Keep him busy,” the leader shouted. “I’m almost finished here.”

            “Your leader’s right, you are almost done,” Steve replied.

            He swept one leg beneath the lone robber’s heel, and the man fell on the ground beside his colleagues. Steve kept his shield at the ready but moved it just enough so the thief could see his face.

            “I would stay down if I were you.”

            “Got it,” the man said.

            “Good,” Steve said with a nod.

            He then shifted his focus to the leader, who now had an arm wrapped around Douglas’s grandson as he held a gun to the young boy’s head.

            “You take one more step, and the kid dies,” the leader said. “Walk away now, and he lives.”

            Damn, he has Douglas’s grandson hostage, thought Steve. But I can’t let him get away with murder.

            “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he replied, before turning his focus to Douglas’s grandson. “Son, you might want to duck.”

            Steve then threw his shield and Evan did as he was told. Steve’s shield sped through the air and bounced off the wall behind the lead robber.

            “Huh, you-“

            The lead burglar grunted as the shield hit him in the back of the neck and he dropped his weapon. Douglas’s grandson quickly ran in the direction of his father, who heartily embraced him. Steve then caught his shield before he walked toward the fallen robber.

            “I told you to surrender, and you didn’t,” he said. “Everything that’s happened thus far is your own fault. Soon enough the police will be here, so why don’t you surrender now before worse things befall you and your crew?”

            The man glared up at Steve as he slowly raised his hands.

            “We surrender,” he rasped.

XXXXX

            Twenty minutes later, Steve had all the would-be bank robbers tied up and lined up on the wall opposite the former hostages. He stayed inside the bank until the police came before he went to check on the former hostages. As he made his way to the EMT vehicles, he spotted a vehicle that he knew belonged to Excelsior News.

            I wondered when they would show up, he thought. Hopefully, I can leave before they try shoving a camera in my face.
            Even back during his Army days, Steve had never been one for the press. He appreciated the job they did, he believed in free speech, but he didn’t feel the need to speak with the press. He felt his work should speak for itself, so why draw additional attention to it?

            Steve shifted his focus back to the EMT vehicle as Jane Foster examined Evan. Mark sat on the other side of his son and he turned to Steve.

            “How’s he doing?” Steve asked.

            “So far, I don’t see any major injuries,” Jane Foster replied. “Evan’s going to be just fine.”

            “Thank you so much,” Mark said, looking between Steve and Jane. “Both of you.”

            “You’re welcome,” Jane replied. “You two are cleared whenever you want to leave.”

            “Come on, big guy, let’s head home,” Mark said, as he grabbed Evan and picked him up, before putting Evan on the ground.

            “Thank you for saving me, sir,” said Evan.

            He looks so much like Douglas, thought Steve.

            He smiled and bent down to Evan’s level. “You’re more than welcome, young man.”

            “Would you like to have dinner with us?” he asked.

            “I don’t know, that’s up to your dad,” Steve replied.

            Evan looked up at his father with a pleading expression. “Hey Dad, can we invite Captain America to dinner as a thank you? Please?”

            Shoot, I didn’t mean to get in between father and son like this, Steve thought as he looked up at Douglas’s son with a sheepish expression.

            “If it’s okay with the Captain, it’s okay with me,” Mark answered.

            Evan then turned his puppy dog eyes to Steve, who laughed. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

            “Yeah!” Evan said, pumping his fist into the air.

            Steve slowly stood up and grinned as Evan began to run in circles.

            “Hi, I’m Mark Rogers,” Mark said, extending and shaking Steve’s hand. “What time works best for you?”

            “Anytime that works for you works for me,” Steve answered.

            “How does tomorrow night at six o’clock sound?” said Mark.

            “Sounds good,” Steve said. He then held out his hand. “I’ll see you at six, then?”

            “See you at six,” Mark replied, shaking Steve’s hand. “Thanks again, Captain.”

            Once the men pulled their hands away, Steve spotted the press beginning to swarm the scene and he partially turned to Mark with a grin.

            “Time for me to take my leave,” Steve said. “I look forward to dinner tomorrow night.”

            He then turned and hurried toward his bike.

            Douglas woke up from his nap on the living room couch just as the front door opened. He opened his eyes to find Evan had thrown the front door open, with Mark close behind.

            “Evan, what did I say about opening the door like that when your grandfather is trying to sleep?” Mark asked.

            Damn, Evan reminds me so much of Steve and I at his age, Douglas thought.

            He watched as Evan’s face grew stormy and the young boy crossed his arms over his chest.

            “Not to,” he answered.

            “That’s right,” Mark said, before shifting his focus to Douglas. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

            “It’s fine, I should probably get up anyway,” Douglas replied. He slowly sat up, adjusting the blanket on his lap. “What time is it?”

            Mark removed his phone from his pocket and glanced at the time.

            “It’s just after three o’clock,” Mark answered.

            Evan’s demeanor became lighter as he ambled toward Douglas.

            “Hey Grandpa, guess what?” He stood near Douglas, his eyes bright and full of life.

            Douglas knew if he didn’t guess, Evan would continue asking. It was a game they’d played, ever since Evan had first learned to speak.

            “What’s that, champ?” Douglas replied.

            “Dad and I saw Captain America at the bank and he saved me,” Evan replied. “And ‘cause of that, he’s coming to dinner!”

            Douglas pushed aside his disgust of his older brother for the time being for Evan’s sake and forced a smile on his face as he ruffled Evan’s hair.

            “That’s great champ.”

            “It is, isn’t it?” Evan answered. “I’m gonna tell Mom now.”

            Evan quickly raced toward the doorway leading to the dining room.

            “Buddy, Mom’s going shopping with friends, remember?” Mark replied. “She won’t be home for a while.”

            Evan stopped just before the doorway and turned to his father and Douglas.

            “That’s ok, I’ll tell her when she gets home,” he said.

            Without another word, he shot out of the room like a rocket. Douglas laughed softly while Mark sighed and shook his head.

            “So, how did this happen again?” Douglas asked, shifting his attention to his son.

            “We went to the bank and just as we reached the front of the line, robbers came and ordered everyone but the teller against the wall. Shortly thereafter, Captain America came and one of the robbers held Evan at gunpoint,” Mark replied. “Without Cap, well, I don’t know if Evan would be here.”

            Leave it to Steve to play the hero, Douglas thought bitterly.

            Outwardly, he nodded. “Well, sounds like he had perfect timing.”

            Lucky timing was what Douglas wanted to say, but didn’t.

            Mark nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

            “So, when is the Star-Spangled Hero coming to dinner?” Douglas asked, as he pushed the blanket off his lap and slowly stood up.

            “Tomorrow night at six,” Mark answered.

            Oh joy, thought Douglas.

            He didn’t particularly look forward to seeing his brother again, let alone over dinner. Then again, he had saved Evan and the boy seemed rather eager to invite over his favorite hero.

            “Sounds good,” said Douglas as he turned and began walking toward the doorway. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be outside.”

            “Just be careful and ask if you need any help,” Mark said.

            I’m not an invalid, dammit, Douglas thought. Just because I’m at ‘such an advanced age’ doesn’t mean I’m helpless.

Chapter Text

Once his patrol ended the following afternoon, Steve entered Avengers Mansion and raced upstairs, taking them two at a time.

            I need to hurry if I want to be on time to have dinner with Douglas and his family in an hour, he thought.

            “Hey, Cap, where are you going?” Ant-Man asked.

            Steve paused and turned to find Ant-Man and Thor standing beside one another at the bottom of the stairs.

            “I have dinner with some friends in an hour,” Steve replied.

            “In that case, have fun,” Ant-Man said.

            “Indeed, enjoy your evening, Captain,” Thor added.

            “Thank you,” said Steve.

            He turned and resumed his way upstairs. Once he reached the bathroom, he pulled his mask off and opened the door. Quickly, he closed the door and grabbed two blue towels from the bathroom closet.

While I know this dinner is for Evan, I hope Douglas doesn’t make a scene, thought Steve.

            In his home across town, Douglas sat on the couch and read an extremely old and worn paperback beside Evan, who was practically vibrating beside him. Ever since Evan had announced yesterday to the entire family that Captain America was coming to dinner, he’d been moving nonstop.

            Not to mention the constant countdown, Douglas thought. My older brother, coming to dinner.

            “Hey, Grandpa, do you know—“ Evan began with a wide grin.

            Fortunately, at that moment, Mark entered the room, which saved Douglas from having to respond.

            “Evan, buddy, I think Grandpa knows how long until Captain America comes,” Mark said gently. “Why don’t you watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse until he gets here?”

            “I don’t want to,” Evan replied, throwing his head back with a deep groan only six-year-olds could make.

            In so many ways, he reminds me of Steve and I when we were his age, thought Douglas. Except Mom or Dad never would’ve let us whine like that.

            And to be fair, neither did Mark.

            “Well, maybe you could help your mother set the table,” he suggested. “I think she could use it.”

            “Okay,” Evan groaned. He pushed himself off the couch and stood up. With a dejected air, he hung his head and trudged to the kitchen.

            Mark sighed and shook his head before taking Evan’s place on the couch.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he would be this belligerent,” Mark said.

            “Don’t worry about it, it’s not every day Captain America comes to dinner,” Douglas replied.

            Even if the person he considers a hero is the brother who screwed me over, he thought.

            “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” Douglas asked. “I feel bad just sitting here like this.”

            Mark waved away his comment. “It’s fine, Dad. I think Isabella and I have everything covered. And with Evan helping set the table, we should be ready when he arrives.”

            Just then, the doorbell rang and Douglas’s anxiety spiked.

            That’s him, he thought. Impeccably punctual as usual.

            After a hot shower, Steve shaved and went to his room to put on a fresh costume. As he stood before the full-length mirror, he pulled his hood over his face and glanced down at his shield, which rested on his bed.

            Should I take it? Steve thought. It’s not as if I’ll be fighting Hydra or anyone else tonight.

            On one hand, he wanted to be prepared in case anything should happen. Yet, on the other hand, he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was anticipating trouble.

            Maybe it would be best if I left it in the armory here? thought Steve.

            He picked up his shield and carried it down the hallway, bumping into Tony at one point.

            “I thought you were going out to dinner tonight?” Tony asked with a raised brow.

            “I am,” Steve replied. “I’m just dropping off my shield at the armory.”

            Tony appraised his fellow Avenger, and Steve held the other man’s gaze.

            “Okay, well, have fun,” Tony finally said.

            “Thanks, you too,” Steve answered.

            He resumed walking, taking the stairs two at a time before walking down another corridor.

            This place is certainly sizable, Steve thought as he entered the armory.

            He walked past containers that held countless different Iron Man armors of various colors. When Steve reached the pedestal meant for his shield, he placed the circular object onto the support.

            “Jarvis, can you lock this place once I’m gone?” Steve asked.

            “Certainly, sir,” Jarvis replied.

            “Thanks.”

            It was still a little unnerving to speak with someone who wasn’t physically there, but as with all modern technology, Steve was growing accustomed to it bit by bit. After he left the armory, he heard Jarvis’ voice once more.

            “Initiating armory lockdown.”

            Steve went to the garage where his motorcycle was parked and put on his helmet.

            “Jarvis, what time is it?”

            “It is currently five thirty, sir.”

I should have just enough time to get there, Steve thought.

            “Thank you,” he said.

            “You are most welcome, sir. And have a pleasant evening.”

            “Thank you, Jarvis,” said Steve.

            He got on his bike and slowly backed out of the garage, with Jarvis opening the door. Steve revved the engine and took the same route he’d previously taken to Mark’s house.

One of the benefits of the Super Soldier Serum was his photographic memory.

            I bet Douglas wishes I didn’t, he thought.

            Truthfully, he was still reticent about eating anywhere other than Avengers Mansion, but he had been invited and felt obligated to go.

            Hopefully, Douglas won’t make a scene.

            Steve slowed down as he reached the familiar four-way intersection, turning left at the green light down the same street. He spotted the familiar picket fence surrounding Mark’s yard. He parked in the same place as before, placed his helmet on one of the handlebars, and walked toward the front gate.

            “You can do this,” he murmured, reaching for the front latch. “It’s just dinner.”

            Steve walked through the front gate and rang the doorbell. Upon hearing Evan’s voice and hurried footsteps, a smile slowly spread across Steve’s face.

            “That’s him!”

            “Evan, remember what we’ve told you about running in the house?” Mark replied, his voice as measured and calm as usual.

            Steve’s smile grew wider as the door opened, revealing Evan and Mark. Evan stood in front of his father, with Mark placing a firm hand on Evan’s shoulder.

            “Hey, nice to see you again,” said Mark as he mirrored Steve’s grin.

            “Hello,” Evan greeted, craning his neck to look up at his Dad. “See, I told you he would be here.”

            Mark laughed softly. “You were right, buddy.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before opening the door wider. “Why don’t you come in?”

            Mark and Evan stepped back to allow Steve inside. The smell of cooking meat and mushrooms filled the air and drifted to his nose.

            “Thank you,” said Steve.

            In his peripheral vision, he spotted Douglas rise from the couch. As the brothers locked eyes for a moment, Steve spotted the pure, unadulterated rage in his brother’s gaze.

            He’s irate, but I didn’t do anything to purposely upset him.

            Douglas pasted a smile on his face, and there was a brightness in his eyes that hadn’t been there moments ago as he walked toward Mark and Steve.

            “This is my father, Douglas,” said Mark, gesturing to his Dad.

            “Douglas Rogers,” Douglas said, extending his hand toward Steve. “And you must be this Captain America I’ve been hearing so much about.”

            I’d almost forgotten how good Douglas was at burying his emotions just below the surface, Steve thought.

            “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his brother’s hand. “I heard you served in World War II and Korea. Is that correct?”

            Thanks for the files, Fury.

            Douglas nodded as the pair dropped their hands. “That’s correct.”

            “Dad usually doesn’t talk about his military experience,” Mark said sheepishly.

            Just then, a brunette woman wearing a green blouse entered the room.

            “Dinner is almost ready,” she said by way of greeting. Her face lit up as her gaze focused on Steve. “And you must be Captain America.”

            “Yes, ma’am,” Steve answered with a nod.

            “Isabella Rogers,” she said, and the pair shook hands. “It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. Our Evan has spoken about no one else since your daring rescue.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Douglas and Mark look at him. Unlike Mark, Douglas’s gaze was searing, and Steve ignored it for now.

            “I was glad to help,” he replied.

            “Well, we appreciate it,” said Isabella. “Would you like anything to drink before we eat, Captain?”

            “Just water, thank you,” Steve replied.

            “Of course, I’ll be back.”

            She turned and left the room. Evan looked up at Steve with bright blue eyes, the same eyes he and Douglas shared.

            “Hey, Cap, do you want to come upstairs and see my room?” Evan asked.

            Steve smiled. “Sure, pal, why don’t you lead the way?”

            “Okay.”

            He turned and raced to the doorway.

            “No running,” Mark reminded him.

            Steve smiled as he watched Evan slow down and his shoulders slump.

            “Okay,” he grumbled.

            “We’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” said Mark.

            “Thank you,” Steve replied, before following Evan out of the room. As they reached the square dining room, Steve looked down at Evan. “So, tell me, how old are you?”

            Douglas’s rage simmered just below the surface as he watched Evan and his brother leave the room. However, he knew how much his grandson had been looking forward to meeting his hero, so he kept it tamped down.

            That lying, good-for-nothing traitor, Douglas thought. I wish I could give him a piece of my mind.

            “You okay, Dad?” Mark asked, casting a sideways glance at him.

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Douglas replied with a tired sigh. “I could use a drink, though.”

            “Wine or something stronger?” Mark asked with a wry smirk.

            “I think I’ll stick with wine this evening, thanks,” he answered.

            “Coming right up.”

            Both men walked out of the living room and into the dining room. From the dining room entryway, Douglas watched Isabella look at the oven.

            I had my reservations about her, but she’s a good fit for Mark. They work well together.

Isabella looked up, and a smile lit up her face when she spotted Mark.

            “The meatloaf should be ready soon,” she said.

            “Thanks,” Mark replied. “By the way, would you mind pouring us some wine?”

            “Sure,” she said, going to fetch some glasses. “Here I thought Evan would never stop bouncing.”

            Mark laughed softly. “I know. Hopefully, by expending all that energy, he’ll sleep well tonight.”

            “Let’s hope so,” Isabella remarked.

***

            Lower East Side, Manhattan, 1926.

            Douglas and Steve heard the angry stomping long before they saw the recipient. Both boys immediately stopped what they were doing and ran down the long hallway. Douglas opened the door to their shared bedroom and almost closed it before Steve could enter. However, as soon as he saw his older brother’s pained expression, he held it open with a sigh.

            “Hurry,” said Douglas.

            As soon as Steve was inside, Douglas slammed the door shut, and the two boys hurried to the closet on the left side of their room. Once again, Douglas opened the closet door, and both boys crammed inside before Douglas slid it closed again. They listened as the front door opened and slammed shut.

            Sometimes, I wonder how Dad didn’t break the damn door, Douglas thought.

            The boys listened as the footsteps stomped through the living room and down the hallway. Douglas’s heart threatened to burst from his chest as sweat coated his palms and forehead.

            “Welcome home, dear,” said their mother.

            “Where are the boys?” their father asked.

            “They were just here. What’s the matter?”

            “Where are the boys?” their father growled.

            “You’ve been drinking again, I can smell it on your breath,” their mother replied.

            “Dammit, Sarah, where are my sons?” their father shouted.

            Incidentally enough, I don’t remember what Dad was so pissed about.

            “I will not allow you to hurt my children,” their mother answered. “Whatever problem you have with them will be settled peacefully, and without hitting them.”

            “Douglas, you’re squishing—“ Steve began, before Douglas clapped a hand over his older brother’s mouth.

            They waited and listened as their father’s footsteps retreated and he slammed the door once again. After a few seconds, their mother spoke up.

            “Alright, boys, he’s gone. You can come on out now.”

***

            Of course, the drinking is what finally killed him. Which is why I vowed to myself that I would never become a drunkard like him.

“Dad, are you okay?” Mark asked, his expression one of concern as he moved to stand beside Douglas, holding two glasses of wine.

“I’m fine. Is one of those for me?”

“Sure is,” Mark replied, handing one of the glasses to Douglas.

“Speaking of drinks, I should bring the captain his water,” Isabella said. She placed her glass on the counter and went to grab another glass.

            “Well, Evan, this is a swell room you have here,” Steve said.

            The room was small, and various posters and pictures hung on the four walls. Steve noticed that all of the pictures were hand-drawn. He walked to the closest one, which was of Captain America.

            A slow smile spread across his face. “Did you draw this?”

            Evan nodded.

            “The line work is very good.”

            “Thanks.”

            Steve turned to Evan, whose cheeks were red and his gaze focused on the ground.

            “Is this where you do your drawings?” Steve asked, pointing to the nearby desk.

            Evan nodded again. “Want to see what I’m working on right now?”

            “Sure.”

            He reminds me so much of myself when I was his age, Steve thought.

            He followed Evan to the desk, bending down to the ground as Evan rifled through the drawers. After a moment, Evan pulled out an image of three figures; two of the people were tall, while the third was short and stood between the other two. Thus far, only pencil lines had been drawn.

            His proportions need work, but that will develop with time.

            “This is my Dad, me, and you,” Evan said, pointing to each figure in turn.

            “This is very good, Evan.”

            Evan beamed. “Thanks.”

            Just then, Steve heard footsteps approach the room.

            “Can I come in?” Isabella asked.

            “Of course.”

            The door opened, and Isabella stood in the doorway with a glass of water. Steve noticed Evan hurriedly stuff the picture back into his desk.

            “Here’s your water,” she said.

            “Oh, thank you,” said Steve.

            He walked across the room in a few short strides and took the glass from her.

            “You’re welcome. I also wanted to let you both know that dinner will be ready soon.”

            “We’ll be there,” Steve replied.

            “See you then.”

            She closed the door, and Steve turned to Evan.

            “What else do you like to do for fun?”

            “Well, I have a whole bunch of toys in my toy box. Want to see?”

            “Lead the way.”

            Steve followed Evan to the center of the room, where a wooden toy box painted with little green turtles sat beside a bed. The sheets on the bed matched the turtles on the toy box.

            “Who are these guys?” Steve asked, pointing to the turtles.

            “The Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles.”

            Not wanting to ask further questions, Steve nodded. “I see.”

            Evan opened his toy box and pulled out four turtles with colored headbands.

            “Here they are. This is Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo, and Leonardo,” he said, pointing to each in turn.

            Steve raised a brow. “They’re named after figures from the Renaissance?”

            Evan looked up at him as he cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?”

            A slow smile spread across Steve’s face. “Something you’ll hopefully learn in history class. Now, how do we play with these Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

            For the second time, Steve heard footsteps at the top of the stairs and coming toward the room. Turning his head, he watched the door open and Mark stand in the doorway.

            “Dinner’s ready,” he said.

            “Let’s go get something to eat.”

            Evan put the figurines away, and all three made their way downstairs.

            “Hey, Cap, can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course.”

            “What do you think of the drawing I showed you?” Evan looked up at Steve with an earnest expression.

            “Evan’s constantly working on his drawings,” Mark added. “He doesn’t let anyone see them until they’re done.”

            “I see,” Steve said. “In that case, I would suggest working on your proportions.”

            Douglas sat at the table as he sipped his wine, lost in thought. His gaze immediately went to the hallway as Mark, Evan, and Steve entered the room.

            “To be fair, drawing humans is complicated,” Steve said. “It will take lots of time and practice, but I would recommend any art books you can find.”

            “We take frequent trips to the library,” Mark replied.

            “That’s a good place to start,” Steve answered.

            As Mark, Evan, and Steve settled at the table, Isabella removed the meatloaf from the oven and onto the hot pad in the middle of the table. The steam drifted across the room, and despite himself, Douglas’s stomach grumbled.

            “Dinner is served,” she said. “Mark, would you be willing to cut it up?”

            “I’d love to,” Mark replied.

            Douglas watched his older brother as Mark went to the kitchen to grab a knife. He felt some small satisfaction in watching the Captain squirm.

            That’s right, Steve, Douglas thought. You’re in my house now.

While Mark cut up the meatloaf and divided it amongst the people present, Steve shifted his gaze away from Douglas and toward Evan.

            “So, Evan, besides drawing, what other things do you like to do for fun?” Steve asked.

            “Well, when it’s nice outside, sometimes I like to ride my bike,” Evan replied. “But sometimes, there are boys who pick on me and tease me.”

            He hung his head, and Steve was familiar with the feeling.

            It’s always the shy, quiet kids who get bullied, Steve thought.

            “I’ve told him, he has to stand up to those boys,” Douglas chimed in. “Or else they’ll never leave him alone.”

            For once, I agree with Douglas. When was the last time that happened?

            “Your grandpa’s right, Evan,” he replied, and Evan shifted his gaze to Steve. “You don’t have to fight them. But you should stand up to them and then, they will see how strong you are and respect that.”

            “Yeah, it’s just hard, I guess.”

            Steve stole a glance at his brother, who nodded once. Douglas immediately looked away and began eating his meatloaf. Steve mirrored his brother’s actions and did the same.

            “How do I stand up to them?” Evan asked.

            He took a bite of his meatloaf, looking at Steve expectantly.

            “Well, it starts with how you carry yourself,” Steve replied. “You should never look down or look away from these types of people, because they will sense it as a weakness.”

            “Right.” Evan nodded.

            Douglas listened as Evan spoke to his older brother, who, to his credit, also engaged Mark, Isabella, and Douglas in their conversation.

            Curse how polite he’s being, Douglas thought as he chewed his meatloaf.  But then again, Mom would be proud.

            The weight of that thought settled in his gut like a giant knot, and he hid his discomfort by taking another bite of meatloaf. He averted his gaze from his older brother, who, as usual, noticed.

            “Is everyone finished with dinner?” Isabella asked.

            “Yes,” Mark answered at the same time Douglas replied, “I’m full.”

            “Yes, Mom,” said Evan.

            “Yes, thank you,” Captain America replied.

Just as Isabella pushed her chair away from the table, Mark stood up. “Allow me.”

He quickly moved around the table and collected everyone’s plates. As usual, there was no meatloaf left.

As always, Isabella’s a great cook.

Mark carried the pile of dirty dishes to the counter and placed them near the sink.

“Thank you, dear. For dessert, we have apple pie,” Isabella said. “Would anyone like some?”

“Me, please,” Evan replied.

“I’ll have some,” said Captain America.

“I’ll have some as well,” Douglas added.

“Mark, the pie should be in the bottom center of the refrigerator,” Isabella said.

“Bottom center, got it.”

Mark went to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out the pie.

“Smells great, honey,” he said.

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells,” she replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, Douglas watched his older brother’s expression. Steve and Douglas briefly locked gazes before looking away again.

“I think I’m going to refill my glass,” he said.

“Could I have a refill as well?” Steve asked.

“Of course,” Mark replied.

He grabbed Steve and Douglas’s glasses, refilled both with water, and brought them back to the table.

“Would you like me to cut the pie?” Mark asked, looking at Isabella.

“Thank you, dear,” Isabella replied.

Mark went to the kitchen and grabbed a cutting knife before slicing the pie into five even pieces. One by one, he slid a piece onto each person’s plate.

“I’ve been meaning to ask this, Captain, but as you pointed out earlier, you and Dad served during World War II, and we were wondering if you two had met before?” Mark asked.

Douglas bristled, hiding it as best he could by taking a drink of water. In his peripheral vision, he watched Steve fidget in his chair.

What is he thinking right now?

“To be honest, I worked with many soldiers during my time,” Steve replied, folding his hands together. “Although I never fought directly with him, your father, like many men during that time, was a soldier of honor and integrity. He served with honesty and dedication.”

Shit. Does he really mean that? Or is he bullshitting for their sake?

Douglas felt the weight of Mark and Isabella’s gazes.

“I was just doing what needed to be done,” he answered. “For my country, and everyone trapped under the Nazi’s boots.”

            “He’s always so modest; he never talks about his service,” Mark added.

            “Most soldiers don’t,” Steve answered.

            Douglas watched his older brother’s face as he stared at the table. He noticed the brief look of sorrow that crossed Steve’s face, only to be quickly replaced with a smile.

            What was that look for? Douglas thought.

            Steve took a bite of pie, doing his best to ignore Douglas’ occasional glares. One way or another, he would need to talk with Douglas. However, he didn’t want to do so with the rest of the family present.

            “This is a very good pie,” Steve said, looking at Isabella. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good pie.”

            “I’m glad you like it,” Isabella said with a bright smile. “It’s very popular here.”

            “Mom makes the best pie,” Evan chimed in.

Steve heard Douglas scoff, which his younger brother transformed into a cough.

            “Are you Ok, Dad?” Mark asked, turning to look at Douglas.

            “I’m fine, just a tickle in my throat,” Douglas quickly replied.

            It’s time to end this once and for all.

Steve pushed his chair away from the table and slowly stood up.

            “Douglas, could I speak with you outside for a moment?”

            “When you’re done, could we—“Evan began.

            “I don’t think so, young man. It’s time for you to start getting ready for bed,” Isabella replied.

            “But Mom!” Evan whined.

            “Evan, your mother’s right,” Mark added. “Tomorrow is a school day, and it’s important that you get enough sleep.”

            Steve turned to Evan as the young boy pouted, bending down to his level.

            “I know it seems like we didn’t get much time together, but I had a lot of fun,” Steve said. “And maybe, we can do this again, if it’s alright with your parents?”

            Evan looked over at Mark and Isabella, who both nodded.

            “Of course,” Isabella agreed. “Captain America is always welcome in our home.”

            In his peripheral vision, Steve watched Douglas finish his water and stand up.

            “I’m ready whenever you are, Captain,” said Douglas.

            “Thank you for showing me your drawings,” Steve said. “They were very good, and if you keep practicing, I know you’re going to get even better.

            Evan nodded, but kept his overcast expression. Steve smiled at the young boy.

            “Can you promise me something?” he asked.

            Evan’s expression lightened, and he looked up at Steve. “Yeah?”

            “Promise me that you’ll stand up to those bullies,” Steve answered. “Don’t fight them, but use your words.”

            “I’ll try.”

            “Good,” Steve said. He extended his hand toward Evan. “If I don’t see you later, it was nice meeting and spending time with you.”

            “You too,” Evan said, taking and shaking Steve’s hand.

            Reluctantly, Evan pulled away, pushed his chair away from the table, and left the room.

            Steve stood up, focusing on Isabella. “Thank you for dinner, it was delicious.”

            “You’re most welcome,” she replied with a sunny smile.

            Steve turned and followed Douglas out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out the front door.

            “Alright, you’ve been glaring at me since I got here,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Out with it.”

            “You have some nerve coming into my home,” Douglas began, jabbing a finger at Steve as he shook with rage. “I told you to leave and never come back.”

            “I didn’t force this dinner to happen, Douglas,” Steve replied, holding up both hands in surrender. “I happened to be driving by one day and—"

            “Dammit, what the hell do you want from me?” Douglas snapped.

            For the first time that evening, Douglas actually looked at Steve. Steve held his younger brother’s fiery gaze.

            He sighed. “When I woke up, I didn’t know if anyone I knew from before was still alive. Through a friend, I was able to receive information that you were, and while I know things didn’t end in the best place before, I was hoping to fix that.” While his gaze softened, Douglas’s didn’t. “I know you’re mad at me for what happened back then—"

            “Damn straight.”
            “But I did what I did to protect you,” Steve continued. “So many of the ordinary soldiers I served with lost their lives, and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

            Steve watched Douglas as his younger brother sighed, closed his eyes as if he was somewhere else, before opening them again.

            “Winifred used to say the same thing.”

            It was said so softly, Steve was almost certain he hadn’t heard it. Until Douglas’s expression softened and he released a heavy sigh.

            “Even on her deathbed, she would remind me that you did what you did to protect me,” Douglas murmured. His expression softened as he held Steve’s gaze. “She would’ve been thrilled to meet you.”

            “What happened to her?” Steve inquired.

            “She died a couple of years back from cancer.”

            “I’m so sorry, Douglas.”

            “We’ve outlived most of our generation by now,” Douglas shrugged. “Evan showed you his drawings, huh?”

            “He did,” Steve nodded. “They’re very good. He has a lot of potential.”

            “As soon as I first saw him draw, it felt like watching you at the kitchen table all over again,” Douglas replied, with a far-off look on his face.

            Steve’s gaze drifted to the row of houses across the street. “Have you told Mark and his family yet?”

            Douglas shook his head. “Winnie was the only one who ever knew. I figure they deserve to live normal lives.” A small smile spread across his face. “Evan would go nuts if he knew.”

            Steve’s smile mirrored Douglas’s. “He would.”

            Just then, Steve’s Avengers ID card began beeping. He removed it from his costume and found Tony’s helmeted face staring at him.

            “Cap, we’ve got a situation. What’s your ETA?”

            Steve glanced from Tony to Douglas.

            “I’m on my way,” he replied, before sliding his ID card back into his costume. “Duty calls.”

            “Duty calls,” Douglas mirrored. “Good luck.”

            “Thanks,” Steve replied.

            He turned and walked off the front porch, feeling lighter than before.

            Douglas watched as his brother hurried through the front gate, hopped on his motorcycle, and drove away.

            And just like that, he’s gone.

            The front door opened, and Mark joined Douglas on the front porch.

            “Did he just take off?” Mark asked.

            “He left to deal with a situation,” Douglas answered.

            “Darn, I was just going to ask him if he wanted any of Isabella’s pie to take home.”

            “Something tells me he’ll be back.” Douglas turned to the front door. “I think I’m going to hit the hay early.”

            “Good night, Dad,” Mark said. “I hope you sleep well.”

            “You too, son,” Douglas replied.

            He entered the house, walked through the living and dining room, and upstairs. Briefly, he paused at the top of the stairs and listened, just in case Evan wasn’t really asleep. When he didn’t hear any noises, he resumed walking to his room.

            Kid wore himself out preparing for Steve’s visit, Douglas thought. Hopefully, that means he’ll actually sleep tonight.

            He stopped at his door and opened it.

            “Damn, I’m more tired than I realized,” he murmured.

            He turned on the light, got dressed, and shuffled to bed before turning the light off again. As he lay in bed, he replayed his conversation with Steve on the front porch over and over again. Douglas closed his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, slept peacefully.