Monument Park was crowded that afternoon. Steve, Liz, and Pops had entered the park on the east side after walking a few blocks south from the nearest metro station. This area, in particular, was teeming with "bikers" (men and women with a certain affinity for leather and denim clothing who enjoyed riding motorcycles, Steve found) that were representative of the Vietnam War veterans.

"Your father used to ride with them in the Rolling Thunder motorcade every year when he was home to honor the 'Nam vets, P.O.W.'s, and M.I.A.'s. I think they had it yesterday," Pops said to Liz as they ambled past the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. There was a line of people stretching as far as the eye could see down the path, waiting to pass through the memorial and pay their respects. A grass field on the other side of the path held a sea of motorcycles parked in neat rows.

"I remember," Liz began to smile next to Steve, "Dad took me along in his sidecar once. It was so loud. I loved it."

"I wish I'd known about it," Steve said, eyeing a classic black Harley Davidson with a blue flame paint detail, "I would have brought mine down." Steve had been doing more walking than riding lately. He found that he could often get to and from where he wanted to go more quickly by walking or through public transportation than idling in the often crowded city streets with his motorcycle.

"You have a bike? Why have I not seen it?" Liz asked Steve, sounding both a bit shocked and excited. Her eyes seemed to twinkle.

"It's been garaged behind our building. The city traffic is terrible," Steve replied.

"We'll need to do something about that," Liz smirked.

They came upon the Lincoln Memorial standing prominently in front of them. Off to the west, Steve could see S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Triskelion towering on an island in the Potomac River. Steve was familiar with the building due to his weekly sessions with Doctor Garner taking place there.

"I remember when they finished that building," Pops said as they turned east towards the reflecting pool, "I can neither confirm nor deny having been inside." Steve had trouble determining whether or not Pops was joking. You needed a certain level of clearance just to get within a stone's throw of the entrance to the bridge that connected the island to the mainland.

The sun beat down on the calm water of the reflecting pool, shining brightly. As they walked along, Liz became quite interested in a family of ducks gliding across the surface. The tiny ducklings swam haphazardly around their parents, who were trying to keep them in line. When they reached the far side of the pool, Steve smiled as he watched Liz laugh at the ducklings exiting the water and shaking their tail feathers as they waddled along into the grass.

"The World War II Memorial doesn't look that crowded. Have you seen it yet?" Liz asked Steve as they approached the stone enclosure.

Steve came down to this area to run almost every day on the circling pathways throughout the park, but he had made a point to avoid this particular monument. He was not sure if he was prepared for what he might find inside. Steve had lost count of how many times he had circumvented these walkways in favor of outer routes.

"No, I haven't," was all Steve could bring himself to say.

"Well, today's your day. It's one of my favorites," Liz smiled and hurried to catch up to Pops near the northwest entrance of the stone oval. Steve followed her, trying to hide a worrisome expression.

Steve caught up to Liz at the entrance, who seemed eager to give him a tour, "The outer wall of the memorial is made up of pillars inscribed with the names of the states and territories active during the war," she explained as they walked past. They then entered a grey stone plaza containing a large fountain, "We came in backwards," Liz explained as she guided Steve over to the long western wall opposite the fountain, "But this is my favorite part. It's called the Freedom Wall."

Steve found himself in front of a smaller, still, and clear pool of water. Behind the pool was a wall filled with gold stars. It was so wide that Steve actually needed to turn his head to be able to see each end of it in the distance as they moved to the middle.

"There are four thousand and forty-eight stars, each one representing one hundred Americans who lost their lives during the war," Liz led Steve to the center where he could easily read a long, angled stone wall at his feet in front of the pool inscribed with the words:

HERE WE MARK THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

"But in the middle, there is one more star that's different than the others," Liz pointed with her finger along her eye-line to an out-of-place circle amidst the sea of stars in the center of the wall. Steve focused in on it and saw that the circle did, in fact, have a star on it. He realized then that it was not just a star on a circle. It was a star on a shield. My shield...

"Do you see it?" Liz asked excitedly.

"I see it." Steve's voice was barely above a whisper. This was precisely what he had gone to great lengths to avoid: his own memorial, the next worst thing to an actual tombstone with his name on it. Steve glanced down to find a small bronze plaque near his feet with the same symbol of the shield at the top. His body began to tense involuntarily.

"It's Cap's shield," Liz sounded excited to point out the shield to Steve, her voice lifting in adulation for the man who had carried it. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see that Liz was looking at him with a smile.

Steve, however, was concentrating on the tiny embossed words above his shoes. There were several paragraphs describing Captain America's role in the war. As he read, he came upon a mention of the loss of his best friend, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. Steve's memories of that terrible day flooded into his mind. He still blamed himself for Bucky's death. If I hadn't been so reckless... Steve cut off his thought process as he felt a lump begin to grow in his throat, and any hope of maintaining his composure vanished like the wind being knocked out of his lungs. As a result, he deepened his breathing noticeably.

"Steve?" Liz asked gently.

Steve did not look at her, instead prying his eyes from the plaque and focusing them back on the small shield on the wall in front of him as he took another deep breath. Steve felt a hand slide into his tentatively and knew that it belonged to Liz. The lump in his throat began to subside, and his breathing steadied after a few more breaths. At that moment, a voice was heard from his opposite side.

"Might I have a few moments with the lad, Sunshine?" Steve looked to see Pops standing next to him. Liz seemed to hesitate before she responded.

"Sure, Pops," she said after a moment. Steve felt Liz squeeze his hand gently before letting it go and reluctantly walking away. He felt the breeze cool his own palm. Missing the warmth that had just been there, Steve placed both hands in his pockets as he trained his eyes back on the small golden shield across the pool among the thousands of stars.

A few moments passed before Pops spoke again, "Did I ever tell you how close I was to fighting in this war?" It seemed to be a rhetorical question meant to preface Pops' story, so Steve did not respond. "I was a month shy of eighteen, and for the better part of the year prior, I had been trying to convince my parents to let me enlist early to no avail, as I needed their written permission. My father had already gone and come home missing a leg, you see. But by God, on my eighteenth birthday, I was going to march right down to the Induction Center and register my name whether they liked it or not. But before I could do it, the Third Reich fell. I suppose I should thank you for that, Captain Rogers."

Steve snapped his eyes to Pops. He stared for a moment before responding softly, "You know?"

Pops smirked back, an expression that seemed to run in the Dolan family, "Yes, I know. Agent Hill disclosed that information when we were discussing your accommodations."

A dozen questions were running through Steve's mind, "You're S.H.I.E.L.D., then?" He should have known better than to think that Fury and Hill would have entrusted him to anyone but one of their own.

"Officially, I'm retired. But off the record, yes. Part of the very first generation of agents. They recruited me out of the army a few years after I did enlist. I was originally tasked with data analysis of potential threats and proposing defusement strategies. Eventually, that evolved into managing a team of field agents," Pops spoke softly, but Steve sensed the pride that Pops had for his work as an agent.

"Does Liz know?" Steve asked timidly.

"That I'm an ex-secret agent, as it were? Mostly. That there's more to you than you've let on? I haven't told her. But what's there to tell? It seems to me that you're turning over a new leaf, or trying to in any event," Pops said nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry... I— I have no idea what I'm doing," Steve admitted, feeling even more guilty for his lies of omission; foolish even. Pops had been playing along the whole time for Steve's benefit. Though on some level, Steve felt relieved.

"Not many young people do," Pops offered supportively.

A soft laugh escaped Steve's lungs, "You realize I'm older than you?"

"A technicality I'm choosing to overlook," Pops chortled.

Steve's gaze ventured back down to the bronze plaque at his feet, continuing to read about Captain America paying the greatest price by sacrificing himself to save countless lives.

"It should go without saying," Pops began after a moment, "But had it not been for you and your team, this wall would have been much, much longer; and we might very well be flying the Nazi flag; or worse, flying Hydra flags. I can see that you're struggling with many things — and who can blame you — but you should be proud of who you are and what you have accomplished.

"Your actions during the war touched the lives of more people than you realize. Me and my family included. The adventures of Captain America were bedtime stories that I told my children. And Liz's father passed those stories on to her. She idolized that persona growing up, after her father passed away. You were her hero when she had none."

Steve looked up at the small golden representation of his shield on the Freedom Wall once more, "Is that really who I am, though? A hero?" He voiced the question with which he had been struggling for the better part of the past year, "Or is that what I was engineered to be? The side effect of a lab experiment?"

Pops responded almost immediately, "Certainly it's better than a mere pretty poster boy," he began jokingly. Steve knew he was referring to the time Steve had spent in the USO and allowed himself a smile. Pops continued, "But, the way that Carter told it, you had the heart of a hero long before the serum was even a viable idea. The serum just gave you the ability to act on it with the hope of success."

"You knew Peggy?" Steve asked as he thought back to the day that Liz had fixed his washing machine. They had ended up in her apartment after the onset of Liz's asthma attack, where Steve had found the drawing she had made of Captain America. Liz had told Steve a similar story that she had heard about himself, a story that had obviously meant something to Liz, judging by the look of admiration that had been in her eyes. Perhaps it was true.

"I thought you knew," Pops turned to Steve, "Carter is the reason that S.H.I.E.L.D. exists; she helped found it. I reported to her directly during my tenure as an agent."

Steve had not been privileged to that information. Though admittedly, if he had finished reading the dossiers that Doctor Garner had provided him earlier that week, Steve probably would have found it in Peggy's file. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the guilt he felt over how he had willingly left her and his friends behind, though Steve found solace in the fact that Peggy went on to live her life and continued making a difference. Steve felt a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his ruminations.

"Steve, if I have learned anything about you in the time you've been staying with us, it's that you have a heart of gold. If there's anyone who deserves a second chance, it's you, and it's yours to do with what you will. Just don't waste it dwelling on what you cannot change." Pops patted Steve on the shoulder before turning away from the wall. "Let's find Lizzie. I think it's time we get back. My stomach tells me that it's about time to light up the barbecue."

Steve smiled again and followed Pops through the plaza in search of Liz. They found her outside the front entrance to the memorial on the east side, speaking to a vendor offering a variety of American flag-motif items for sale from a small mobile cart. As they approached her, Liz turned to them wearing wayfarer-style sunglasses with a striped and star-spangled pattern splashed across the frames, smiling brightly.

"This sun is killing me, and I needed shades. What do you think?" She asked both of them.

"They're very..." Steve thought for a moment smiling at her enthusiasm, "Patriotic."

"I was going to say ridiculous," Pops quipped, stifling a laugh as he ambled ahead.

"For five bucks, I'll deal with a little ridiculous!" She called after him, following. Steve met her stride as they walked together, losing ground on Pops in front of them. Steve took a moment to don his own aviator sunglasses. After a moment, Liz broke their silence, "I'm sorry about before," she began cautiously, "I thought you'd like seeing—"

"It's not your fault," Steve cut her off, "I'm the one who should apologize."

Steve watched as Liz shook her head, auburn hair shimmering from light to dark and back to light in the sun, "Don't worry about it," she smiled at him. Steve imagined her green eyes glinting beneath the dark lenses of the sunglasses she now wore. He smiled back, then looked down the pathway in search of Pops.

"How is he always that far ahead of us?" Steve questioned with a laugh, a bit amazed.

"I'm wearing heels. What's your excuse?" Liz jabbed playfully. At that moment, Steve saw her wobble as the sole of her shoe slid over a stray pebble. "Oh, for God's sake!" Liz exclaimed as Steve caught her hand.

"Apparently keeping you from falling face-first into the pavement," Steve laughed.

"You're such a snarky punk!" Liz was laughing in spite of herself as well.

"You're welcome," Steve smiled, keeping Liz's hand steadily in his as they tried to catch up with her grandfather.

* * *

Upon returning home, Pops had granted Liz permission to change into more casual, less accident-prone clothing and shoes before they started dinner. Steve took the opportunity to freshen up himself. The afternoon sun combined with traveling via crowded public transportation left him feeling in need of a clean shirt. Steve had already changed his white undershirt, and as he was pulling a new button-down out of his sparsely stocked closet, his eyes wandered to the floor. He looked at the round metal disc that he had hidden there days ago.

Steve returned the shirt hanger back to the closet rod and bent to pick up the shield by its worn, brown leather straps. The weight of it was all too familiar as he turned the shield over in his hands so that the scarred star and stripes now faced him. He looked at it, contemplating. Steve thought back to Pops' words from earlier and all that he had experienced that day. As his eyes shifted across the vibranium, Steve's mind drifted to one of the last conversations he had had with Bucky before Steve had been chosen for Doctor Erskine's super-soldier program: the night of the Stark Expo of 1943. The two of them had gotten into a heated debate over whether or not it was wise for Steve, just a scrawny and sickly kid from Brooklyn then, to get mixed up in a war.

What had I said then, Buck? Steve thought to himself, remembering, "... There are men laying down their lives! I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me." You still thought I was trying to prove something. And you might've been right about that, Steve mused, Well, look at me. I really got nothing to prove now... Steve slid the shield on his arm and turned to look at himself in the mirror mounted to the wall above his dresser on the adjacent wall. For the first time in a while, the image did not make him feel bitter.

"Hey, Steve!" He heard Liz calling from the front of the apartment. He had left the door open while he waited for her. Steve scrambled to tuck the shield back in his closet and pull out that clean shirt.

"We're bringing up food if you're hungry!" Liz added. It did not sound like she had entered the apartment, instead calling from the threshold of the front door. Steve quickly buttoned up his shirt, tucked it in, and walked out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He grabbed his brown leather jacket from the closet in the living room in preparation for the seasonably cool evenings they had been having lately as he chased Liz up the stairs to the roof.

* * *

During their rooftop dinner, Steve quickly found that Pops was the "Master of the Grill," as he had proclaimed himself to be. He watched intently as Pops flipped hamburgers and hot dogs effortlessly as he instructed Steve on the ways of being a grill master. Liz, however, had been preoccupied with her smartphone through much the evening, becoming increasingly tense as time went on. Steve shared a knowing look with Pops. The two of them had confirmed in the past that Liz became this way when she was currently in contact with Jason. Steve had half a mind to take the device from her and throw it off the roof.

Steve helped the Dolans clean up after dinner, putting away a folding table and some chairs inside of a short rooftop storage unit and bringing down leftover food. Pops had retired to his apartment for the evening when Steve made a final trip to the rooftop to see if anything else needed to be done. He found Liz sitting on top of the storage unit facing the now setting sun, looking over the cityscape. She looked more familiar to Steve now, having changed into a black zip-up hoodie, jeans, and sneakers before dinner. Liz sat with legs criss-crossed beneath her, forearms propping her hunched shoulders above her knees while Liz absentmindedly picked at her fingernails. The striped and star-spangled sunglasses Liz had bought earlier that afternoon were perched on top of her hair, which was now drawn back into its usual bun.

"Does anything else need to be brought in?" Steve asked as he approached her.

Liz looked at Steve and smiled, "No, we got everything. Thanks for the help."

"Of course," Steve replied. His leather jacket was taking up the seat next to Liz on the storage box, so he shifted it back as he sat down next to her. Off in the distance, Steve could just make out the Washington Monument's silhouette to the south against a yellow sunset. Next to him, he heard Liz's phone vibrate. Steve watched as she pulled it out of her pocket and frowned at the screen.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked before he could think twice about it. He already knew the answer.

Liz sighed and pocketed the phone once more, "It's been a long day..." she trailed off. Steve looked at her waiting for her to elaborate. Liz must have read his expression because she continued, "A bit of an emotional day, you know... And some people just aren't making it any easier."

"You mean Jason," Steve probed, looking back out to the sunset. A certain degree of animosity had leaked into his tone.

"Yeah," Liz said softly, "He knows that today can be tough. Says he just wants to check up on me, but I know he's just using it to try and worm his way back into my life." Liz's tone had grown colder as she spoke, causing Steve to glance back at her and watch her expression. The yellow-orange sunset reflected off Liz's green eyes, adding fire to a determined gaze, "I don't trust people easily. I trusted him, and he broke that trust. There's no coming back from that. And the fact that he's using my Dad as, like, bait. It just—" Liz cut herself off and closed her eyes.

Steve watched as she took a deep breath and exhaled, holding the dog tags that hung around her neck gently in one hand. For a brief moment, Steve lost himself in the play of the golden light of the setting sun against the profile of Liz's lightly freckled facial features. In her relaxed attire, Steve found her no less pretty than in that fancy dress. He only wished that there was something more that he could do to remedy her frustration and pain. He hated seeing her upset. But Steve knew better than anyone that you can not take away someone else's pain, no matter how much you wish you could.

"From what I've heard about him, it sounds like your father was a good man," Steve offered after a moment as consolation.

Liz opened her eyes and looked at him. A small smile grew on her lips, "I think you would've liked him. He could give Pops quite a run for his money."

Steve smiled back, "Sounds like you're a lot like him."

Liz looked back out over the backlit skyline, "I wanted to be just like him. I wanted more than anything to join the Air Force and be a pilot like he was."

Steve was surprised at this, "What stopped you?"

"You mean besides the fact that I'm too short, blind, and asthmatic? No, that pretty much sums it up," Liz laughed. "They wouldn't take me, so I decided I'd do the next best thing. If I couldn't fly, I'd design stuff that could."

Steve had heard mention from Pops about Liz's Aerospace Engineering degree from a prestigious university in the past. He sympathized with her and could relate better than anyone to being rejected by the military's physical requirements. Steve remembered what it felt like to feel trapped in his frail body, unable to do many things that everyone else seemed able to do with ease. He had tried so hard to convince himself otherwise, but deep down, there was always a part of Steve that had wanted to prove himself as capable to others. Steve wondered what had seemed to staunch that need in Liz.

"What happened to change that, if you don't mind me asking?" Steve approached delicately. Liz thought for a moment. She seemed to be working out a response. A breeze kicked up, and Steve watched her shiver. Immediately, he reached for the leather jacket that had been discarded behind him and wrapped it around Liz's shoulders.

"Thanks," Liz smiled, a pink hue appearing on her cheeks as she slipped her hands through the oversized armholes. Steve noticed her fingertips barely made it past the cuffs at the end of the sleeves. "To answer your question," she continued, "Family. Gran had gotten sick during my last year of school, and when she passed away, I knew I didn't want to leave Pops here all alone. I was needed here, and I don't regret making that choice."

Steve reflected on that for a moment. He wondered if his mother had not passed away so soon if he would have been so willing to enlist. "I think I would've done the same if I had been in your shoes," Steve admitted, "but there was no one for me to leave behind when I joined the Army. My mom passed away a few years before, and I never knew my father. He died in combat before I was born." Steve found it cathartic to share that with someone who had experienced something similar.

He felt Liz slide closer to him and place her hand on his forearm nearest to her. He looked at her and saw an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, Steve... Now I know what you meant— earlier when you said I didn't have to go through things alone. I'm sure they would've been proud to have a son in the Army."

They sat in comfortable silence, looking out as the now orange sky began to darken to red. In those moments, Steve contemplated telling her the truth about himself, I should tell her, he thought, but I don't know how to do it without sounding insane, or worse: that I've been lying to her. Steve thought back to his conversation that he had with Pops in front of the Freedom Wall. What does it matter? An internal struggle began. Steve thought about the answer to his own question for a few moments. Because whether or not I want it to be, Steve realized, that shield is part of who I am.

Steve turned to Liz suddenly, "I think I want to go back."

Liz looked up at him with a confused expression, "What?"

"I think I want to go back into the service," Steve explained. Liz looked at him for a moment. He watched as her green eyes shifted back and forth between focusing on each of his blue ones.

"That's a big decision, Steve," she began slowly. Steve detected the worry in her tone. Liz continued, "What makes you want to go through with that? It seems kind of sudden."

Steve thought for a moment. The entire day he had spent with Liz and Pops seemed to be leading to this point. All he had seen and learned of others' sacrifice and dedication... Steve could do more. It was in his power to help as many people and prevent as many lives from being lost as possible. And in truth, he would be honored to have that responsibility.

"I had an offer, before I came here," Steve began, thinking back to meetings he had had with Fury and Hill regarding a program they were calling S.T.R.I.K.E., "To be part of a specialized team that would help keep a lot of people safe... Keep other families from losing people like we have."

"That is a tempting idea, but it's also dangerous. You're not Superman, you know. Which we still need to watch, by the way." It seemed like Liz was trying to force herself to smile.

"No, I'm not Superman," Steve agreed, hoping that the smile he gave her would bring out Liz's genuine one. His smile remained as Steve silently continued in his own mind:

I'm Captain America.

* * * Author's Notes * * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Thank you all for being so patient with updates. Unfortunately, my day job has been taking up most of my time and energy as of late, but even when I don't have the time to physically write things down I'm thinking about and planning outlines for future chapters!

As always, I want to thank whimsymuse for being an amazing beta reader. They have been my kick in the pants to write and a great person to bounce ideas off of.

Votes and comments are always very much appreciated! I love to know what readers think :-)

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