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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: 456 Hints

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂.

𝟐𝟓 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

Elizabeth Carter, for the first time ever, beat Sharon Carter in a race around National Mall, and she could not be more indifferent about it. The celebratory boasting that Sharon had been expecting never came, and Lizzie barely noticed that she'd even beat her sister until she glanced over her shoulder to see her falling behind. Cue hint number four-hundred and fifty-six that there was something going on with Lizzie, still. Sharon had tried everything, but there was still a little raining, dark cloud over her head. Her usual humor was just empty, sarcastic remarks and Sharon was unsure of what else she could do.

They were on their walk back to the apartment, the Monday morning bleary and slow to wake across the entire city. Their start time was later today―eight o'clock instead of five-thirty―because Sharon had decided to take a sick day for the two of them (no, S.H.I.E.L.D. did not exactly have 'sick' days unless you were shot or dying, but one short explanation to Fury and they were cleared). So they picked up the routine that Steve left Lizzie with―walk to the Mall, run, head to Liberty Cafe, and then head back to the apartment complex to get ready for their day. Except something threw a wrench in their already piss-poor day when Lizzie received a text message from their mother.

"I'm disgusted. I hate them."

"Lizzie, they're our family—"

"No, they're abominations to our bloodline. Why is Ma insisting that they come down here to D.C. too? I can guarantee you Aunt Peggy would rather deal with assassins than have them infest her sanitary air. You hate them. Dad hates them. Ma hates them. She called them Satan incarnates last Christmas, and now she wants us gather around a senior living home table and eat jello and dried turkey together? Absolutely not. I'd rather be burned at the stake. Let Tituba curse me. It's better than seeing the demon spawns awaken to burn Earth to the ground and use us as human piñata sticks to do it."

Lizzie loved her family. They were her favorite people on Earth, and there was absolutely nothing in the world that she would not do for them if they asked for it. At least, on her Dad's side. She had been blessed with a medium-size family thanks to her Aunt Peggy having two kids, both of whom gave Sharon and Lizzie a total of nine cousins altogether. All of them were spread across continents (besides Grandma Ruthie), so the only time that they really got to see each other was over FaceTime or at their annual family reunion every three years. Last year, it was in London. However, her love stopped on her dad's side.

Her mom, Sophia Carter, had a much smaller family. She had a brother, Uncle David, who produced two children of Judas with his evil girlfriend of fifteen years (he was afraid of commitment, her mom said it was because he was the baby of the family). Lizzie tried to love them, but it was very difficult. So difficult that even her mother had to hide her despair when they came to visit―which was rare. Like, once every eight years and only when forced to, rare. To hear that her mom was trying to invite them down to D.C. to visit Aunt Peggy (who wasn't even their aunt, and who disliked them more than cyanide poisoning) was surprising.

"You're being dramatic."

"Most days, I would agree," she argued, turning around to face Sharon. She was walking backwards on the sidewalk now. "But not this time. This time, my dramatics are entirely within reason."

"Dad's not going to bring them, Liz. He's already talking to Mom about it―"

"―why did she even think it was a good idea? Forget the fact that they are incumbents for Lucifer, we're not even going to be spending actual Thanksgiving together, and I highly doubt Kaylee and Cooper will want to spend their break chilling at Sunrise Senior Living with the geriatrics playing bingo."

Sharon sighed, her attention on the path ahead of them so that Lizzie didn't run into anyone while she walked backwards. "You know I don't like them either, but you're sounding like a five-year-old right now. I'll call Dad again and let him know having them here might compromise our mission...or something. Can we try and have a good day today, though? Please? If you're going to keep acting like this, I'm going to drag you to school."

"The looming threat of the apocalypse makes that kind of hard to do."

Sharon stopped walking altogether, only a few blocks from Liberty Cafe and Lizzie halted soon after. The sisters stared at each other for a few seconds, Sharon undeterred and wearing the 'Spy Sharon' face that was empty of all emotion. The effects of it were instantaneous, and Lizzie shrunk down a few inches in defeat. She didn't flinch when a man in a suit brushed past her, muttering about them standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but only stared dejectedly at her older sister.

"This isn't about our cousins or Thanksgiving, Lizzie," Sharon stated rationally, her hands going to the sides of her hips. It only made Lizzie shrink further because that was the Carter pose. All of them did it. "I know it's been a rough week―"

Lizzie's face fell more. "More like a rough month."

"How're you doing after Barton left?"

"I'm sad," she admitted honestly, glancing down at her hands. "Probably won't see him again—at least until graduation. Forgot to tell you, I invited him..." Sharon looked at her sharply "...what? He got me a brand new compound bow. It's so pretty! What was I supposed to do, bid him adieu and say 'see ya at the S.H.I.E.L.D-hundred-year-anniversary party!' He's a nice guy, Share. He taught me a lot in just a few days. It just sucks getting attached to someone and then having to say goodbye."

"There is it."

"What?"

"Why you've been so upset all month," Sharon started to move again, grabbing her little sister's elbow so that she would get out of her frozen place and walk too. Lizzie stayed quiet. "The longer this goes on, the worse you're afraid you're going to be hurt when you say goodbye. I know I said it would probably be a few weeks, and it's been nearly two months, but the process has been more complicated than Fury and I expected―"

Lizzie scoffed under her breath. "You mean I've been more complicated."

"That's not what I said. I meant, there's a lot going on right now. Fury hasn't been telling me a lot, but there's been some tension stirring between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the World Security Council―"

"The supervisors of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Essentially," Sharon nodded, then her eyes flickered around cautiously.

Lizzie didn't miss it. "Sharon. What's going on? Carson's been more chaotic than usual. She thinks that it's weird that all of you have been sent here at the Triskelion―which, by the way, I did say that at the beginning of October―so is it? Is there something going on? Because everyone seems to think there is."

"We can't talk about this at the apartment, okay? "

"What? Why can't we―" she stopped talking, her feet pressing against the pavement again to stop her walk. She looked at her sister with narrowed eyes. "Sharon... you've got to be kidding me!"

"Lizzie, you know I can't―"

Lizzie's eyes widened and she stomped over to her sister, grabbing her arm and hissing under her breath. "You couldn't tell me that our apartment has been bugged? I didn't think that was a thing with agents! Jesus Christ, Sharon, are there cameras in my bathroom too?"

"No, Lizzie, listen to me. I don't know if it's been bugged. I just...I don't trust talking about this there, or anywhere that isn't a public place. Okay?"

Sharon had a new look on her face. One that was not worn often, or else Lizzie would have been able to recognize it, but the tone of voice that she used suggested something very bad that Lizzie was not entirely ready to accept. She was still in disbelief, so when they finally got to Liberty Cafe, she just flung open the door and walked begrudgingly to their ('their' being hers and Steve's) usual spot. Sharon followed quietly until they ended up at the table by the American flag. The second that their chairs were pulled out, and they sat down, Lizzie stared at her sister blankly.

"You told me to trust this organization, Sharon. Aunt Peggy―"

Sharon shook her head, interrupting her. "I believe in this organization, Lizzie. I believe in Fury. I believe in what Aunt Peggy's vision was for S.H.I.E.L.D....but something is going on right now, I'm not going to lie to you. Carson has a higher level clearance than me―she has access to information I can't touch―and she's worried. Even I'll admit that it is odd that Fury is sending us all to headquarters without an explanation. I wasn't convinced until Barton came to town...I can't tell you everything that's going on, Lizzie. Not just because you're a level one, but because―"

"―what? I'm a kid?" Lizzie hissed under her breath. "You know that's a load of shi―Martha! I thought you would be home sleeping by now."

Martha looked more exhausted than usual, bags under her eyes and her grey hair showing more than usual. Still, she smiled gently at Lizzie. "Took some overtime. Christmas is coming up. Want the usual today?"

"Yes, please."

"And for you?" she turned to look at Sharon, whose face was flushed from their discussion. "You look like you could use a nice cup of coffee, sweetheart."

Sharon smiled kindly up at her, nodding. "Please. I'll just take the same as her."

Martha nodded, her eyes flickering between the two of them, before she walked away without another word. Normally, she would have stuck around to talk to them about how their morning was going, but the tension between the sisters was palpable. Lizzie waited patiently until she was out of hearing view, thankful that the cafe was not busy (like it ever really was) before she turned back to Sharon with a scowl.

"You and Fury are making me get him to trust something I don't even trust myself anymore," Lizzie said blandly. "How is that right, Sharon? How are you going to tell Aunt Peggy that her dream is actually just manipulative and secretive?"

Sharon frowned. "Lizzie. We've always been that way. I've just tried to hide you from the parts of S.H.I.E.L.D. that aren't spy training on Tuesdays and learning how to box other days...there's a reason why you're an associate. There's a reason why I try to protect you. Not everything we do is simple―it's complicated, but the world is messy. We're trying to make it better. We're only here to help people. That's what we have always tried to do, and we need Captain Rogers―"

"You just said something is going on."

"And until I know what, you aren't going to worry about it," Sharon refuted sternly. "Carson is working to find out what it is. I just...you deserved to know―"

Lizzie's looked at her like she was insane. "Know? Know what? You haven't told me anything, Sharon. If this is just a tactic to get me to stop pushing your buttons on enjoying my training―"

"That's not what this is, Lizzie. I just...I need you to be careful, alright? With what you tell anyone. That includes Monroe and Sitwell."

Lizzie scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at her sister. "I'd say I'm fine in that department. So this just gives me another thing to keep from Steve? That the organization he's joining may actually be untrustworthy?"

"I never said that."

"You never argued it either. It was implied."

"Lizzie. Can we just enjoy breakfast please?"

Lizzie stopped, frowning even more at her sister. "I don't want us to be like this, Share. I know you have things you can't tell me, but don't keep things from me either. Not if the only reason is because you think I can't handle it. I can."

"This is bigger than you proving yourself worthy. You have to understand―"

"I understand your job. I know the bad parts of S.H.I.E.L.D. you try to protect me from. I hear it all the time from Ma...but this has never been about 'proving myself.' I just want to do something. I want to be better. I want to help people."

Sharon's lips pursed, and she stared at her little sister for a few seconds with a distance in her eyes forcing them miles apart. "You sound like him."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They were quiet for a few minutes, Lizzie fumbling around anxiously with the napkin set out on the table and ripping it to pieces to make her version of a heart. The action was unconscious, a quirk she had ever since she was little, but Sharon still watched closely―noticed, like she was trained to, every physical and nonphysical thing her body was telling.

Lizzie's posture was different. The noticeable slouch she had at the beginning of October was gone, and her little sister held herself up straighter and tighter. Her body was turned slightly, up against the wall so that she could keep her eyes on the entrance, and every so often, Sharon would notice her flicker her eyes up instantly when she heard the little bell signaling a new or exiting visitor. Her fingers were split, callouses and small cuts in the tips and larger ones where her softball glove had rubbed the last nine years. Sharon knew she was hiding bruises on her ribs and the back of her calves (something that made her nearly cry about the first time she hurt her little sister) but she showed no indication of pain.

But Sharon also noticed the dark circles under Lizzie's eyes―the hyperactive tension―the anxiety―the irritability―the second-guessing―the fear―everything that came with the 'progress' of her S.H.I.E.L.D.school. Everything that Sharon remembered having when she started training at thirteen with her Aunt Peggy, and everything she felt again when she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. at eighteen.

Sharon's phone went off, alerting both of them to the sound, but Lizzie didn't mind it much and returned to glancing around the cafe with interest. Because it was later in the day, it was busier. She could tell that Martha was working way past her capacity, and the teenage girl standing behind the counter was on her phone barely paying attention to the orders. Three veterans sat at the long counter in the front, four teenagers her age were sitting in the corner (probably skipping class), and there were some other stranglers around here and there.

"―oh whatever, dude! You couldn't get a girl if you tried! Your mom's the only one you talk to and even she avoids you―"

Lizzie's hands stopped messing with the napkin, her eyes staying attentively on the entrance to the door but paying close attention to the overheard conversation between the teenagers.

"It's not―that's not―" the smaller of the boys stuttered, his face flushing as he messed around with the plate of pancakes in front of him. He was skinny, messy hair matting his head, and a pair of glasses were stuck up to the bridge of his nose. "It isn't like that. I could get a girlfriend―"

"Ha! Oh, come on. I say this because I'm your friend―you need to get a life...or contacts―"

Sharon smiled softly down at her phone when she read the message sent from Fury.

ROGERS CAME IN AT ZERO-SIX-HUNDRED HOURS.

TELL MINI-CAP SHE CAN START BUGGING HIM AGAIN. THE MISSION WENT SOUTH. HE MIGHT NEED SOMEONE. CLEARED WITH PSYCH EARLIER. No threat.

Her head raised, happy to tell Lizzie the news, but she blinked in surprise when she heard the chair in front of her scrape across the tile floor of the cafe. Lizzie was up and out of her seat, her face displeased up until she got over to the table of teenagers―three boys, and one girl―all talking loudly with one another. Two of the boys looked up immediately, their eyes widening in surprise, and the girl just smiled kindly her way with tired eyes. The last one, the boy with the glasses, was too busy looking down flushed at his plate to notice her.

"Hi, I'm MJ," she introduced herself, giving them a smile not genuine to her true one. A nickname that could be used in her real life and alias was probably the safest bet. "I saw you across the cafe, and I was just wondering if I could get your number? I really like the Avengers, too, and I always love hearing people's thoughts on them―"

The other boy who had been talking, bulkier but still pimple-faced and blushing, raised his eyes at her. "Hi...uh, MJ? We weren't, uh, talking about the Avengers, but you can have my number―"

"―yeah, you can have mine too!" chimed the other tall and lanky boy, grinning over at her.

Lizzie paused, blinking at them, and the girl at the table rolled her eyes. "She wasn't talking to you, you fuckin' idiots. Neither of you are wearing an Avengers shirt."

The quiet boy finally looked up, his face no longer red but confused when he fell into reality from his distracted state. Lizzie was already looking at him, one of her real smiles coming out when she noticed him squinting through his lenses see her. Then, the flush returned, creeping all the way down his neck as he glanced down at his shirt to see the Avengers displayed.

"Oh," was all he said. Then he swallowed hard and looked back at her. "Who's, um, who's your favorite?"

The question sparked her interest and she smiled even wider. "Depends on the day. Right now, I'm a big Hawkeye fan but I've always been a softie for Cap. What about you?"

"Uh..." he frowned, thinking about it.

"Mine is Black Widow," said the bulkier one, grinning eagerly with interest.

The girl next to him rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, it's your dick's too."

"I like Thor," the quiet boy finally said with a hint of a smile.

"Oh, me too! I like them all, really. Iron Man is pretty high up there for me too. I like him as Tony Stark more, though. Do you have a phone? Maybe we can exchange numbers and talk a little more about it."

The boy's eyebrows shot up and he nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It wasn't the most expensive, one of those phones that slid to show the keyboard, but Lizzie didn't pay close attention to it. She just smiled eagerly and took a step closer, exchanging numbers with the boy and blatantly ignoring the dumbfounded looks on the buffoons' faces at the table. His glasses fell down past his nose, and she found it endearing, even when she acknowledged the slight shake of his hands from nerves―everyone had them.

"Thanks, Shawn," she said with another kind grin his way, noticing his name in her phone. "I'll text you, yeah? I've got to go before my sister yells at me."

He nodded, pushing his glasses up impulsively with the side of his hand. "Yeah...yeah, okay. Have a, uh, a good day, MJ."

She sent him a parting grin, her eye catching on the girl at the table and just barely noticing the wink that was sent her way. Lizzie smiled back kindly at her, noticing that she was pretty and probably way too nice to be around the two overconfident jocks, but their exchange was momentary and she was giving them a final goodbye as she returned back to her table only a few feet away.

Their food was at the table when she arrived, Sharon already cutting into her crepe, but she stopped when Lizzie casually sat back down at the table and took a drink of her coffee. The air was calm for a few minutes, neither one of them speaking as they started their breakfast, but Lizzie could tell that something was sitting on the tip of Sharon's tongue and the longer she went without saying it, the more impatient she got to hear it.

"What?" she asked in between her intake of blueberries.

Sharon shook her head earnestly. "Nothing...MJ."

Lizzie felt something stick in her heart because she knew what her sister was insinuating, and in the back of her mind, couldn't help but think about how proud her Aunt Peggy and Steve would be of her. She helped out the little guy―and she happened to find him more admirable than the likes of someone like those boys or Aaron.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂. ─ 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊

"It sounds like someone vomited and that just became your playlist. You go from The Foundations to Eminem―"

"I'm eclectic."

Lizzie defended her choice of music on their way back to the apartment, rolling her eyes at her sister as she shuffled through the playlist on her phone. One headphone was blaring music, and the other was (barely) paying attention to Sharon as she talked. As she scrolled through the song choices, her sister took a peak and snorted at the different genres she'd built up over the years. Specifically, how her shuffle went from 'Build Me Up Buttercup' by The Foundations (one of her favorite songs in the world) to 'Lose Yourself' by Eminem (ironically the song she played a lot when running her eight miles).

Sharon's nose wrinkled after she caught another name. "Rainbow Kitten Surprise?"

"They released a new song. It's really good. It's called 'American Hero' and they basically mention Steve―" Lizzie pressed the song to play it instead, and she threw her other earbud up at her sister. "―it's not Journey or TLC so you might hate it."

Sharon hummed and they listened to the song, walking closely together on the way home. Lizzie mumbled the lyrics under her breath, smiling slightly at the different aspects that reminded her of Steve. Sharon, on the other hand, wondered how much the lyrics related back to Lizzie's own passions and desires―to be an American Hero herself―and found herself looking at her sister again. Her mood had changed significantly after breakfast, like a light had switched inside of her, and Sharon knew it had to do with the boy back at the cafe. Not even him, but the act of what she did so impulsively.

"It's good," Sharon said matter-of-factly, then her lip twitched. "I still think Journey is better."

Lizzie shrugged. "They're in here somewhere too. And the Beatles. I think I've got Count Basie and Eddie Grant too."

'Electric Avenue' was another one of her and Sharon's favorite songs.

They walked past the little corner stores just before their apartment complex, and Lizzie paused at the bottom of the steps right when 'Chocolate' by The 1975 came on. Peaking from the side of the building was a very familiar motorcycle, and she felt the spike of adrenaline and electricity course down her spine when she realized whose it was. Her body was spinning around before her mind caught up to it, and Sharon stood there already smiling at her with crossed arms. Then, without warning, Lizzie squealed eagerly and ran up the steps (without any falls but she did rip the earbud out of Sharon's ear quite aggressively).

The two flights of stairs spiraling up to their doors felt never-ending, and she did have that feeling of using her hands to bear-crawl up the stairs a few times just go to faster, but she ignored the urge and felt thankful that her calves were stronger than ever (bruised but strong). And then she was bounding down the hallway, and then her fist was―VERY AGGRESSIVELY―knocking on the door to Apartment 4B so that even the people up at 9E could hear it.

She heard the chain sliding hesitantly, and she all but bounced up and down with impatience until the door swung open, and then she was pretty sure she jumped up (because the one-foot height difference was a thing)―and the words "YOU'RE BACK!" were shouted very obnoxiously, and at one point she heard her Fitbit clang harshly against something strong―but she didn't care because she was very much aware of her superhero babysitter wearing Under Armour being back home and being back to spend time with her.

"MJ?" was muffled over the grey hood of her sweatshirt, and she felt arms wrap around her back and take her off the floor (or maybe she was already up off the floor from the jumping, she didn't know but she was definitely not touching anymore).

Steve and Lizzie hadn't really noticed until that moment just how intertwined their lives had become. The separation for eleven days was the real determinate―especially when they had grown so accustomed to the other's presence, and the routine, that being away from it only let the reality sink in. Steve Rogers was undoubtedly becoming Lizzie's very best friend, and perhaps her childhood hero was more of a D.C. father-figure to her now, and something was very unsettling to her about just how much she had grown attached―because she knew what was coming.

Steve did not see the bond until all of the weight, and the fight response, and the flashbacks to the mission gone wrong with Natasha halfway across the world disappeared the second he realized it was his kid hugging him. His shield was still attached to his arm, locking her into his chest, from when he believed that the knocks were an intruder like the one from Istanbul. He didn't realize it until he was seeing how pretty some of the cities were in Europe, and acknowledging briefly that she would have loved to see them―when he told Nat about his babysittee and she just smiled, listening to the kid that had given Steve a little hope.

"You're back!" she cheered, and then they finally separated enough for her to get a good look at him.

He smiled softly at her, unconsciously taking in her appearance and feeling like she had growth another three years on him while he was gone. "Hey, kid. Been causing much trouble without me?"

"Always," came a reply from over their heads, and they both turned around with smiles to see that Sharon―or Kate―was standing back at their door with one of her own. Her eyes raised to meet Steve, and the similar flicker of adult tension in the air wafted. Steve's eyes were more attentive on the older sister. "Good to have you back. She's been making me go running with her, and my shifts at the hospital are about to be times longer with the holidays coming up...nice shield."

Sharon noticed what Lizzie hadn't been paying any attention to, and she glanced down at Steve's arm to realize that the harsh sound had been her Fitbit hitting his shield. She frowned. He'd never done that before―he always usually knew it was her. Then, she returned her stare to his face and finally noticed. Just like she was so good at, both in general and with the man in front of her. The features on his face sunk in, hollowing out and showing his exhaustion in the only way it knew how―because, physically, he could continue for hours. Mentally, Lizzie wondered how many days ago he checked out. His blue irises were dim, only showing flickers of emotion when they looked down at her or at Sharon, but different. Barton had stayed longer. Which meant the mission didn't go as planned. Which meant Steve needed someone.

"Whatcha doin' right now?" she asked him casually, giving him a grin.

He looked down at her, then his shield, and then back at his apartment with pursed lips. "Nothing. Shouldn't you be in school right now?"

"Took a sick day," and when he looked at her with narrowed eyes, she brought her fist up to her mouth and gave her best attempt at a cough (Academy-Award worthy). "Real sick."

"Convincing."

She jutted a thumb back at Sharon. "'Was enough to get her to think so. I think there's a pretty wicked game of softball going on at the Mall in an hour or two. Did you know that they have coed leagues playing there all the time? All those little bulletin boards we ignore―apparently there's a sign-up sheet for all of these different games, and it said all are welcome, including free agents and captains alike...guess what, pal? That's us! I just need to shower and change because I smell like a dumpster in Brooklyn, but after that we can go...."

Lizzie continued talking, moving with her hands as she talked, and Steve's attention moved only momentarily away from the kid who thawed out so much of his heart. He caught a glimpse of her older sister down the hallway, leaning against their own apartment door and watching the side of Lizzie's face with an adoring, relieved smile. She let her eyes rise to his, and they shared a small moment of understanding, saying―yes, she makes me just as happy. Maybe they were coparenting without even knowing it.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂.─ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋

Lizzie was unsurprised at how quickly they were able to fall into a routine. Although it was not their usual one, they still maneuvered around her day off and his first day back. However, there was some level of difference to their usual interactions―both of them were holding in something, and they were far too kind to put their baggage on the other. Lizzie, in some sense, was already trying to work around how she could rant to him about all of her problems without telling him that the real problem lied in them―in her being around him, and him not knowing who she was. Steve tried to find reasons not to talk about Bucky, and about Peggy, with a thirteen-year-old, but Istanbul triggered something in him that he could not run from.

They were walking around their usual pathway at National Mall, waiting for the softball game to start. Even though she said she wasn't going to play (because she didn't sign-up in time), Steve noticed that she was wearing a dirtier pair of shoes and a hoodie with yet another nickname of hers on the back―Blindspot, that time, and her brief explanation came from how she played centerfield and acted as everyone's blindspot on the field. Now, they were just looking at all of the monuments they passed constantly without ever taking the time to notice.

Lizzie noticed that Steve's legs were leading them in the direction of the National World War II Memorial off their usual path, close to the fountain that was beautiful when it was dark out. She didn't say anything, though, and followed silently alongside him. They stopped at the two walls depicting different pictures of the war, from physical exam to homecoming, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. A chill ran down her spine.

"Did you lose someone in the war?" he asked softly to her side, his eyes catching every single image on the left wall before turning to the right.

Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie into her palms. "My uncle and Grandpa. Pops died in Vietnam, though. Service runs in our family. What about your family?"

She had been too caught up in thinking about her Uncle Michael and Grandpa Nick that she didn't even pay much attention to her polite response. Then, she internally cringed as soon as she realized what she had asked. She read about him, she knew his family and history, and just how upsetting the question might be to him. However, she was surprised that he didn't tense up like usual when she asked about his past. Instead, he smiled softly and glanced down at his feet.

"My father was killed in action before my mother even had me, so I never really knew him to mourn him. Didn't even have a picture to his name," he explained quietly, and they were walking away from the walls to get closer to the Freedom Wall. "Lost her before I was eighteen. She worked in a TB ward, and she ended up getting what she was trying to heal―still helped 'til she couldn't anymore. She always put others first."

Lizzie's lip pulled down, revealing a dimple. "You must get it from her, then."

Steve looked over at her, and she returned the glance to see something written kindly in his face, tracing the lines of 'thank you' without ever needing to speak aloud. She wondered what he was thanking her for. They were quiet for some time, taking in all of the weight that the Memorial held and paying their respects. They walked around the Freedom Wall, Steve's heart holding the pain with every star honoring the lives lost―4,048 stars representing 100 Americans each.

"They fly in veterans every year to come here to see the memorials dedicated to their service," she announced gently as she came across another large plaque set in the side of the Wall. Under it were names she recognized.

THE UNFORGETTABLE SERVICE OF THE HOWLING COMMANDOS

Two golden stars were underneath the title, and Lizzie sucked in a deep breath that never really disappeared when she realized who they were for. Unlike the others, these were labeled―the first, Steve Rogers with a small picture and biography about his service as Captain America. The second was a name she recognized in passing in history books, in lessons, in Fury's briefing.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

There was a picture and a biography as well, but Lizzie was focused more on the man that was next to her. Steve's face was a reflexion of many emotions, but there was somehow none at all too. But the pain was palpable. That much, she knew. Words were not suited to help, so she did the only thing she could and reached for his hand, holding it tightly in both of hers and leaning her head on his arm. When the response was instantaneous, and her grip felt like his lifeline to the twenty-first century, she felt her heart shatter even more.

"Should have put Bucky. He'd have wanted his name in there somewhere," he muttered, snorting softly under his breath. Then he glanced away from the plaque, his eyes moving to look at all of the stars that were joining his friend's. "He never wanted to win a war―never wanted to join, that was always my hope. My dream. He helped me get there, changed it to become his own too, and he stuck with me 'til the end of the line."

Lizzie's fingers flexed, tightening if possible.

"You remind me of him, y'know. He would've gotten a kick outta you. He had a sister your age, Rebecca, and always said she was the reason he joined the army, just to get away from her―" he started explaining, swallowing down the feelings in his chest as he finally talked about his best friend "―but he always took care of her. He was always the one good with kids. I never...they never liked me. Babies cried around me, I'd thought Rebecca hated me for the longest...but Bucky was good with them. He was great with everyone."

Steve's cleared his throat, and she wished she could fix the start of tears that were glistening in his eyes. Frozen in time for too long, and desperate to finally fall. "The first time I met you, he's who I thought of. He's always there, always with me...but I feel him there a little more around you. God must've thought one of him wasn't enough, so they gave me him as a teenage girl―"

His chuckle caused a grin to stretch across her face. "Your worst nightmare, yeah?"

"Oh, you scared the shit out of me, kid," he decided, smiling and shaking his head. He looked down at the ground like he always did before turning to her. "You're an awful lot like him, but you're a lot of yourself too...I can see him laughing down at me, though―telling me that the only friend I could find was eighty years younger than us―"

"Hey, the best kind of help you're gonna get is from a teenage girl, Steve," she said, leaning off him and shrugging. "We may seem like we don't have our shit together, but we're all pretty determined in our own ways―plus, I was raised in Brooklyn. I'm sure I could show Bucky up."

"That'd be somethin'. He'd probably call you Teenie, that was his nickname for Becca..." and then Steve was gone, lost in his thoughts and still holding onto her, taking her with him.

Lizzie stayed with him, and she silently remembered all of the things she had learned about PTSD―don't pressure your loved one into talking, do normal things, let them lead the conversation, manage your own stress, be a good listener―be patient.

"I woke up thinking I would be that kid from Brooklyn again―hoping, I guess, I'd wake up and be him again. Have my shit life back, the easy one where I was dying before I was even born. That I'd have Bucky back. That I'd have..."

He stopped again. This time, Lizzie stopped too. Because somewhere deep down, somewhere far in her chest, she knew what stopped him. And she had to prepare for the word that would come out of his mouth next.

"That I'd have Peggy."

Lizzie's fingers instinctively curled, and she tried to control the shape intake of air that was threatening to come out of her mouth, but it was hard―it was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Standing there, with him, bearing the stones of his past and the pain of her mission and wondering how deeply they would bruise her. She pressed her lips together, hoping he did not notice any oddness, but not caring anymore if he did―because, God, she was hoping he could just figure it out.

"I see a lot of her in you, too," he decided blandly, almost like the words were more difficult to get out that the ones for Bucky. He frowned, glancing at his shoes. "You were asking me about kids, a few weeks ago―if I ever wanted any...I did. With her. Wanted all of it...and I think if I had been given that opportunity, I'd want them to be exactly like you."

The trigger was instant. Lizzie's eyes welled up with tears, her throat constricting and holding back the sob so that it would not escape her, but she was too late. They fell quickly, much too quickly for one hand to catch, so she reluctantly let go of his in order to wipe her face. His head raised to her immediately, taking in her red face and quivering lip, a concern spiking in him that he had never felt before―paternal, in a sense.

"Emily?" he asked, and that triggered another bout of tears. He stepped to face her, frowning. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

She shook her head, trying to control all of the tears and the snot and everything else in between that was escaping her, but she couldn't. Finally, after a few minutes of Steve anxiously standing there, trying in any way to comfort her without knowing the true reason, she calmed down. The tears still fell every so often, and her hoodie sleeve was soaked now, but she could see through blurry vision and talk now.

"I'm sorry," she croaked out, sniffling again and wincing at the horrible sound of her voice.

His lips fell further. "Don't apologize. Are you alright?"

She nodded this time, and she curled her arms protectively around her this time, blinking with wet lashes as she glanced around the Memorial. Anywhere but him, her mind was telling her, but that became unavoidable and she finally met his eyes. Nothing but concern shined in them, concern for her, and she wished that she could just tell him everything now. She chewed on the inside of her jaw, trying to ignore the second round of tears, and gave him the most honest look she had even worn before.

"I want that life for you, too, Steve."

His concern eased and his features soothed out. "MJ..."

"After everything you did, the last thing you deserved was to wake up in a completely different era with nothing but history books telling you what happened. You. Didn't. Deserve. That―and I wish that I could give you back your life with Bucky and...Peggy, and I just..." she stopped, clenching her jaw when she felt another wave of emotion hit her in the face. She shook her head, and blinked at him with blurry vision. "I care about you, Steve. You mean a lot to me―you've been a friend, and a mentor, and a babysitter, and I think I've spent more time with you than anyone but my own parents―and I don't...I never want you to think that you're alone in this world, okay? I know you can't go back. But...I hope that this new place gives you a few reasons to stay. I hope it isn't miserable, and that you can find people like Bucky and Peggy again. I want you to be that happy again."

There was a few moments of silence between them. Steve carried the honesty and the pain in her words on his back, listening and feeling them. Finally, he pulled her into a hug that was bone-crushing, lifting her up again so that she could cling her arms around his neck like a child―in that moment, she didn't mind being one. She needed her parents, she wanted her mom and her dad to hug her and tell her it was okay, but Steve was all she had. He was more than enough.

"I found one," he muttered, muffled through her jacket once again, and squeezed her just a bit more to make his point known. Then, with some more reluctance, he finally released her and gave her a grin that came so far-and-few between. "Come on, I want to see you play, Blindspot."

Unbeknownst to him, her heart was breaking into pieces. Hint 457: the pile of shredded pieces of napkin were not just a heart, they were hers.

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Author's Note:

And my heart was breaking, too. I adored this chapter for so many reasons, but it really did ruin some section of my soul because I just want Lizzie to be alright. I hate doing this but it's part of the story and all will be revealed soon when TWS comes.

What did you think about the conversation Lizzie and Sharon had about SHIELD? Shit! Is! Starting! We're really into the pre-TWS now so we're at the home stretch!

Also, LIZZIE AND THE BOY WITH THE GLASSES. I was tempted to make it Peter but it didn't work. If anything, it was foreshadowing. I can't wait to get into their first interactions it's going to be GREAT.

And, of course, what did you think about the scene with Steve and Lizzie? They're finally reunited, and Steve has finally opened up to her about Bucky and Peggy. I truly hope the conversation felt real, because sometimes I find it difficult to take in Steve's person so hopefully the authenticity of that was valid. The ending scene really hurt me, though, but it's true. Lizzie is this mix of Peggy, Steve, and Bucky, and it wasn't my intent but that is how it turned out.

As always, let me know what you thought about the chapter! How do YOU think Steve will react when he finds out the truth? And here's an interesting question: what part do you think Lizzie will play in TWS (because she is involved)!

Thank you so much! I'm so in love with this story and so happy to have found the inspiration again.