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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: A Way to Pretend

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂. ─ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆  

𝟐𝟒 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

             Thursday, Lizzie's only break of the week, ended up becoming the day that she braved up and had Sharon drop her off at Sunrise Senior Living retirement home. They had yet to stop and see their Aunt Peggy since moving, aside from when they arrived in D.C. and helped her rearrange her new room to her liking. From then on, the Carter girls stayed away. Not purposefully, but every attempt they made to go see her ended up with something else jumping in the way instead. Lizzie hated herself for it, but what she hated even more was the guilt in not wanting to step into the room at all. She was dreading the moment she would have to walk in see her aunt laying there in such a vulnerable state. Peggy Carter did not give up, and Lizzie wasn't ready to see her in a position that forced her to.

There was a nurse at the front who helped sign her in, and she quietly muttered the name of her aunt as not to disturb the group of senior citizens playing chess in the corner. Everyone had yet to figure out the reason why Aunt Peggy was insistent on being close to the HQ of S.H.I.E.L.D. so far away from the strains of her family spread out across different continents. She could have found a place in New York, or London, or anywhere but here. Lizzie had bets that it was her hoping Steve would come see her. As far as she knew, he still hadn't come face-to-face with her yet. 

Aunt Peggy never pushed him after his return. None of the Howling Commandoes did. Lizzie had been there the day that Sharon came home with her last year when word of Captain America's survival was all over the news. By that point, the Alzheimer's had reached its first stage and she had to quit working. That didn't stop her from rushing to figure out everything she could about his return. Through everything, though, she never once overstepped the boundary of reaching out to him first. That was something Lizzie would always admire her for. 

Walking into her aunt's room on that Thursday morning, she found that that admiration did not die one bit. It did, however, morph into a sick feeling when she saw how frail Aunt Peggy looked laying in the facility's bed. Lizzie felt oddly frustrated, knowing that she did not deserve to be in a place like this―she was Peggy Carter. Through the wide range of emotions that hit her upon entrance into the room, the one that stuck was a growing happiness. She missed her aunt. There was so much she didn't realize she wanted to talk to her about until then.

Aunt Peggy glanced up, and the premature fear that she would not recognize her struck suddenly. Dad said she had been getting worse, her memory declining more rapidly and some days were better than others. She didn't understand all of it, but she tried. Then, to Lizzie's complete relief, Aunt Peggy grinned brightly and her hands instantly went to her heart at the sight of her. Lizzie released the breath of air that she was holding.

Today was a good day. 

"Elizabeth!" 

Lizzie's feet were taking her instantly to her aunt without question, unable to stop the tears that were beginning to brim in her eyes. Aunt Peggy looked happy, despite it all, and her age lines showed no fault to her character. When she got to the side of her bed, Lizzie curled herself down to Aunt Peggy's level so that she could give the woman a large hug. Only when she felt hands push down on her shoulders to bring her closer, stronger than Lizzie expected, did she let out a loud burst of laughs and pull away reluctantly to look at her aunt. 

"Hi, Auntie Pegs," she said, smiling as she sniffled away the tears in her eyes. 

Aunt Peggy reached for her cheeks, her lips pursing in worry as she brushed away the fallen tears that had escaped. "Why are you crying?" 

"I just really missed you." Aunt Peggy's face softened considerably at her words. She ushered her into the seat by her bed, and Lizzie took it without question, scooting closer so that she could lean half of her body against it. "I'm sorry I haven't visited until now. Sharon and I tried about a million times, and I know it isn't an excuse―" 

"Oh, don't bother yourself with concerns like that, darling. I've had plenty company since coming here. News travels fast with my former colleagues, and all of them have mouths on them...besides, from what I hear, you have been quite busy lately," the pointed look that her aunt gave her was so signature to her person that Lizzie could only fluster at the topic of her recent occupation. "Come on then. Out with it. Tell me all about how it's been. Nick only gives me so much when I ask, and I suspect there's more to the story than he's been telling me." 

Lizzie shifted around, trying to figure out where she was going to start with everything that she wanted to tell her. Should she break the ice and go right into talking about Steve? Or should she mention the fact that she can actually see her muscles when she looks in a mirror? Or that Agent Sitwell was teaching her about 'quick change' in her spy training? Maybe she'll tell her that Sharon was currently telling her about the pressure points in the human body that can knock someone on their ass. Or that Carson was showing her (in secret) how to make a bomb out of a pen―she'd get a kick out of that one.

"Well, um..." she hesitated, her mind rattling with different stories "...it isn't Disneyland." 

Aunt Peggy stared at her for a moment before there was a series of choked laughs that escaped from her chest. Lizzie instantly reached for the cup of water that was by her side, and she helped her aunt drink some to get rid of the cough built into her laughter. Only after she took a few sips did Lizzie pull away, setting the drink back down and catching the glint of a smile still present on Peggy's face. 

"I beg to differ if you are a spy, but I can understand the lack of appeal you may have had upon entering for the first time. It certainly was my Disneyland," Aunt Peggy reasoned, and her eyes shined with amusement down on her niece. "It will change for you over time. It already is. You have been learning. Growing. I see it in the way you hold yourself now." 

Lizzie unconsciously glanced down at herself in surprise. "Really?" 

"Of course. You've always been strong, but I can see that in more than just the physical now. Your sister has been training you, hasn't she?" Lizzie nodded, confirming what her aunt already suspected. Peggy's features stretched in pleasure, nodding off to herself. "Good. There's no one better to teach you what you need to know. No one who will push you harder than her. What else have they been telling you over there?"

And so that began the long conversation of explaining to her all of the different fun facts that she had learned from Monroe, who her aunt was eager to meet (although Lizzie knew that if Monroe ever got the opportunity to meet Peggy Carter, he would probably go into anaphylactic shock―strong women intimidate him). She laughed at the different ways Carson went about teaching her technology and other infiltration tactics, and that Dum-Dum  would be proud of her. The conversations with Sitwell made her quiet, paying attention to the information  that she was being told to ensure that it was correct. 

Finally, to the anticipation of both of them, Peggy's resolve softened on her great-niece. "I can see it in your eyes how much you are trying to hold back on talking about him. Go ahead. It's alright. I am just as eager to listen as you are to tell."

Lizzie gnawed on her bottom lip, anxiously trying to figure out the best way to begin talking about him. Before she could even get a single sentence out, tears were starting to well up heavily in her eyes. "Aunt Peggy, I'm scared." 

"Of what, sweetheart?" 

"What if he hates me when he finds out what I'm doing? What if he never wants to talk to me again because he thinks everything is a lie? I can see it in his eyes that he really, really likes spending time with me, and I like spending time with him. He reminds me so much of Dad, and it helps when I miss home. I think I remind him of someone, or maybe he just likes that all of the conversations we have are about stupid things, not adult things―but I don't want to ruin that because eventually SHIELD isn't going to need me to be friends with him anymore, and then I'll have to leave, and I don't know if they're going to let me say goodbye...I don't know if he'll even want to say goodbye..." she sniffled, wiping away the tears that were falling. "I don't want him to hate me, Auntie Pegs. I want to be a friend he can trust, but I don't know how to do that when he doesn't know me." 

"Sweetheart, you are underestimating how much he cares for those closest to him," she soothed, her withering hand going up to wipe away some of her tears. "He could never hate you. No one could. There is too much love in your heart."

Lizzie shook her head, her throat swelling again. "But I'm lying to him. I feel...like I'm betraying him somehow. I know you believed in me―that you thought I could do this, but Aunt Peggy, I feel terrible―" 

"No one is asking you to be someone that you are not, Elizabeth," she said, her hand falling down to grip as tightly as she could onto her niece's. "Perhaps you have told him a different story to protect yourself, or a different name―" Lizzie flinched at that and her aunt noticed instantly. "What? What is it?" 

"I messed up," she admitted quietly, blinking away another set of tears on her eyelashes. "I...I haven't told anyone. Sharon doesn't even know, but...I wore one of the jersey's Dad made for me when I was younger. I didn't even think about my name being on the back―" 

Aunt Peggy's face fell, and she stiffened. "Carter?" 

"No, no. No," Lizzie instantly denied, waving her free hand around. "No. The one that says MJ." 

"And what did you tell him?" she asked quietly. 

"That it meant Mike Junior, which is still bad. I know I used Dad's name, but it was the only thing I could think of besides saying that it came from you." 

Aunt Peggy relaxed at her explanation, the concern washing out of her infamous Carter eyes that Lizzie had inherited. Then, a hint of pride started to twinkle in them, and her aunt smiled softly at her niece. "I am so proud of you, Lizzie." 

"What?" she looked taken aback, staring at her in confusion. "But I messed up―" 

"And you found a way to fix it. You thought quick, in the moment. The Elizabeth I knew a few months ago would have blundered all over her words and confessed in an instant. You are using the information that SHIELD is teaching you." 

Lizzie flushed, frowning down at their intertwined hands. "But I need to be better." 

"And with that mindset, you will be...but not until you forgive yourself for being human. I have encountered agents older than you, with more experience, that have mucked it up much worse. Myself, included. Not a one of us believed that you would not slip-up once or twice in this, Elizabeth, and that is not because we did not trust you, but because we know how compassionate you are," Aunt Peggy said, squeezing her hand again. "And I can promise you, darling, that he sees that, as well. He will understand. I will make sure of it...but I truly believe that you are the only person capable of helping him." 

"Why?" she muttered, swallowing the sob in the back of her throat. "Why me? I know what Fury said―having a teenager would help him adjust to the twenty-first century...but you could have found anyone―" 

"And they would not have been you. I have always seen so much of him in you, Elizabeth. Your bravery and your honesty. Your strength and your compassion. The way you have always led your teammates..." Aunt Peggy smiled sadly at her, tears burning in her eyes as well "...you may be so much like me, but you have all of the pieces of what makes him an incredible person inside of you, as well. He recognizes that. All I wanted for you and him is to find a friend in one another. You have done that."

"At what cost, Aunt Peggy?" 

"I'm afraid that answer can only be said when the time comes...but MJ..." Peggy's eyes crinkled with love and amusement at the use of the nickname "...remember that this experience is not meant to put you at odds with yourself. Learn, and listen...and never forget that being strong does not mean you must sacrifice your softness. You make this world brighter, but never forget that darkness exists as well..." she brought her niece's hand to her lips, kissing it affectionately. "Be his light, but do not allow anyone to take it from you either."  

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃. 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ─ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟑𝟏 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑

"You know what I think is rude? When Halloween falls on a weekday. I mean, who wants to wake up for work and school after spending the entire night eating their way into a sugar coma? It's insensitive. They don't even consider it a holiday." 

"Right. Insensitive. Because surely there aren't worse things that could be happening in the world than having to go to school tomorrow."

Lizzie shot a scowl at Sharon from across the room, her eyes finally moving away from the little trinket that she had in her hand. Despite Thursdays being her 'off' day for S.H.I.E.LD. training, she usually always ended up back at the Triskelion one way or another. Today, she decided to go bug Sharon and Carson. The latter let out an excited yelp when she saw her walk through the door, shouting "Baby Carter!" as soon as the door behind them was shut. Although she had only a few interactions with the woman, the comfortability that she shared with her was instantaneous. Maybe it was because she was Dum Dum's daughter. 

Carson glanced up from the keyboard that she was working on, looking between them for a moment with a grin. "Hey, buzzkill. Halloween is supposed to be the best unofficial holiday out there. Stop ruining it. Baby Carter, what are you doing tonight?"

"I don't know, actually," Lizzie said softly, her face dropping as she went back to twiddling the toy Carson gave her. "It was always my favorite holiday besides the Fourth of July. Dad used to let me invite a few of the girls from my softball team over, and we would do a scary movie marathon. He's a dork, and he would always dress up as Michael Myers every year and try to scare us while we were watching the movies...so not that, I guess." 

Sharon looked up from the documents she had her head in, focusing on the way Lizzie's posture sunk deeper into the desk chair as she remembered their father. Her lips turned down into a frown, and she caught Carson's eye from across the room. Both women had grown so used to the bubbly energy from the young girl that seeing her in any other state hurt. Sharon dropped the documents completely, and the sound made her sister glance up from Carson's little toy once again in confusion. 

"Why don't we have one tonight?" Sharon offered, hoping to lift her mood. "You and me. I can run by the store and grab some candy. I'm sure they'll have marathons on all night." 

"I can dress as Michael Myers and climb up your fire escape to scare you while you're watching 'em if you want," Carson added, making Sharon shook her a look that the blonde immediately shrugged at. "What? I'm being generous. I wouldn't do that for everyone. Also, it's rude to make plans right in front of someone without inviting them."

"I figured you would end up weaseling your way into it regardless of an invitation." 

"And you would be entirely right, but I still appreciate being thought of. I'll come through the fire escape if you want our friendship to be inconspicuous. I know you're ashamed of me...and try not to accidentally end up in Captain Rogers'," Carson hummed with a bit of a smug smirk. "I'd be more than willing to show him some of my costumes―"

"Carson!" 

Both women stopped their bickering at the sound of a giggle, turning away from one another and in Lizzie's direction to see her grinning brightly. They shared in a silent victory by smiling, as well. Lifting up her little sister's spirits, Sharon found, was just as important to her as teaching her how to be strong. 

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂. ─  𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐄

𝟓 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑

"I learned about you in History class yesterday." 

Steve and Lizzie had developed a habit. Studies show that it takes approximately 66 days for something to stick, and they had managed to do it in half that time. Most of it had to do with Lizzie's personality, and the fact that she was 99.9% sure that Steve would follow her to depths of hell just because he wasn't entirely sure how to say the word 'no' politely to her. Maybe she used that to her advantage early on by forcing him to go to the little coffee shop across the street from Starbucks (that never got any love for the very reason of the Starbucks). She'd found that it was cheaper, and they had breakfast sandwiches and crepes that reminded her of the ones in Brooklyn. It was also ironically named Liberty Cafe, and she stole the moment with a cheshire grin in his direction.

And so that was where they usually found themselves after their morning run before she headed off to school. Lizzie's side of the table in the corner of the cafe (ironically right next to a picture of a black-and-white American flag) was cluttered―it always was. Her usual order after burning calories doing Satan Sharon's cardio training consisted of: a cup of ice water that was refilled every five minutes, a vanilla latte with no whip cream, a bowl of fruit, and a classic crepe with syrup. Sometimes a sandwich. Steve would get a cup of black coffee (refilled every twenty minutes) and a bowl of oatmeal, reading the daily newspaper while she played on her phone. Their routine was set now, and the nice waitress, Martha, always grinned when she saw them walk in at exactly seven o'clock sharp. 

Steve's eyebrows raised curiously as he sipped the coffee. "Find out anything interesting?" 

"Not really," she said, shrugging, as she forked another blueberry. She usually made a face out other fruit with the bananas and blueberries. "Your life is a bit boring. I fell asleep a few times." 

"Ouch," he huffed, his hand going to his heart. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement though and he took another drink. "You should respect your elders, you know. We built the country that gives you coffee."

"False," she held a finger up to him. "It was originally exported from Ethiopia to Yemen, and some guy noticed his goats getting jacked up on coffee beans and thought it was a good idea to introduce it to humans...pretty sure the British colonized it too, so I guess if we're going with the Old World―" she paused when she saw that he had sat back in his seat, watching her with a twisted smile "―what? I said you were boring. I never said the good bean juice that makes me nice does."

He shook his head, raising in hands in surrender. "I was going to say you're a pretty smart kid, but I thought the compliment might boost your ego." 

"Yeah, you're right. It's been boosted. Narcissism is floating above my beautiful brain now."

His brow twitched slightly as he thought back on what she said before. "...good bean juice?" 

"Was s'posed to be funny," she mumbled defeatedly with the excessively large strawberry in her mouth. "Ma told me I was funny when I was kid and it went to my head. Been a walking nightmare of dry humor ever since―"

"Refill?" 

Steve and Lizzie looked up from poking fun at one another to see that their waitress, Martha, was standing over them with a pot of coffee and a jug of water in her hands for each of them. Lizzie nodded enthusiastically, and she rolled her eyes when Steve politely said no after his fourth cup. Just as Lizzie went to thank the woman and reach greedily for the basic component of her going to the bathroom every twenty minutes, the woman smiled down at them. 

"You know, I've been meaning to tell you two this for a while, but it's real nice to see a dad and daughter taking the time to spend time together. I rarely see it much anymore. Everyone's always in a rush, going to that place across the street, and fiddling with those phones all the time. You guys brighten my day every day I see you," the older woman said with a soft smile, nodding at them.

Steve went to correct her. "Oh, we―" 

"―think the exact same about seeing you," Lizzie interrupted, smiling at her. "Besides, your coffee and customer service is a lot better than that atrocity across the street." 

Lizzie felt like she was betraying Starbucks, but kindness beat coffee-loyalty. Martha laughed loudly, her green eyes winkling under the rising sun. "Well, I really appreciate it. I hope the two of you keep coming to see us here." 

"We look forward to it every day!" 

Lizzie smiled and watched as Martha returned back to her job, moving around to take care of the other tables with older fellows wanting their black coffee. She turned to look at Steve to see that he was raising his eyebrows at her, a softer expression dawning on his face than when they had been joking about her ego. She shrugged, picking up her coffee to talk another big gulp. Why would she care if Martha thought Steve was her dad? She thought it would be pretty cool to have two awesome dads like him and her father.

"What? Scared of people thinking you have a crazy daughter?" 

Steve's smile grew, and like she noticed he did often, he shook his head and glanced down at the table for a moment to hide it. "You would be the one with a boring dad." 

"Dads are always boring, you wouldn't be special..." she excused with a wave to her hand. Then, at the topic of conversation, she paused. She pursed her lips, one dimple showing as she twisted her fork in her hand. "Can I ask you a question?" 

"Sure." 

She swallowed hard, stabbing a piece of strawberry. "Do you ever want to have kids?" 

"After meeting you? Never," he said instantaneously, making her shoot her head up with narrowed eyes and the hint of a smile on the edge of her composure. He smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes like before, and he glanced down at his half-full bowl of oatmeal. "I did. At one point in my life. Settling down and getting married, having kids, it all felt like it was something too good to be true...then I found―" 

Steve stopped himself, his face flattening and showing no affect. Lizzie felt like someone had reached into the cavity of her chest and ripped out her heart because she knew exactly who he was thinking of, and she regretted everything. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to―" 

"No, no. It's alright," he soothed, meeting her eyes to calm her panic. They were sad, Lizzie noticed. She wished she wasn't getting so good at knowing that look on him. "At one point, yes. After waking up...I'm not sure. Feels like those dreams died with me when I went down...and this really isn't a conversation I should be having with a thirteen-year-old." 

She leaned forward, confused. "Why do you think that?" 

"Because..." he hesitated, frowning deeper at her. "You're just a kid yourself." 

"Teenager...and you've got to talk to someone. Not to be that person, but it isn't like either one of us have made many friends since moving to D.C. Everything I've read about in books says that keeping things to yourself is a sure way to end up with some serious sadness," she said, trying to ignore how her teeth wanted to grit because she was keeping so much from him. She knew that sadness. "Besides... if it helps, let's just say I'm your practice for the future. I'd say you've done a pretty good job of babysitting me so far. Katie's anxiety has been significantly reduced now that she doesn't have to play mom all the time to me. My chances of getting kidnapped on my runs have lessened, too. The two of you are very good at co-parenting."

Steve watched her for a few moments, gauging the amount of truth and genuineness to what she had just said. It astonished him, really, and the surprise showed in his face. "You really don't see me as him, do you?" 

"Who?" she asked in confusion, and when he pointed at the flag on the wall, she let out a loud 'oh...' and slowly processed his question. When her nose wrinkled and she shook her head, she'd found her answer. "No. Not really. I mean, yeah, I know who you are. I get spiel on you from my teacher every day―he's in love with you, by the way―but I guess I've never really seen you as him. I don't know. I wasn't lying when I said you were just Steve to me. Maybe it would be different if I saw you in your costume―" she saw his lip curl up at the word "―oh, sorry, sir. Uniform...but no. I really don't. I think it might just be denial though because saying I'm eating a crepe with Captain America sounds a bit like saying I'm eating a corndog with the president." 

His lip quirked up yet again and he glanced down at the mug in his hands, shaking his head. "You're a really good kid, you know that?" 

"Teenager," she corrected again, and then she paused to smile at him. "I try. You're a good babysitter, too. And friend. I know I can be a bit of a handful―" 

"A bit?" he interrupted incredulously. 

She sent him a scowl that could not contain her amusement. "Okay, rude. You weren't supposed to agree with me...I just―you've gotta lot of options out there for friends...and I guess it's nice that, even though I really didn't give you an option, you still haven't ran away screaming yet that the teenagers of this generation are crazy."

"Not crazy. Different," he corrected, then squinted when he saw her glance at her phone. "Maybe self-obsessed. What is so interesting on that phone that it can take up so much of your attention anyway? Every where I go, you all are always glued to it. I'm worried your neck is going to be permanently craned." 

"Your old man is showing," she said pointedly before looking down at the phone in her hands. They hadn't really talked much about technology or social media, aside from the surface level where she helped him figure out how his new TV worked. It had mostly been pop-culture. Pursing her lips, she flickered her attention away from her iPhone and to him. "How much do you know about social media?" 

"Like the news?"

She cringed. "No. Well. I mean, technically yes, but no. You can use it for the news but it's mainly to interact with people." 

"Why can't you interact with them in person?" he asked, confused. 

"Aside from the fact that they live in a different city than me?" the realization dawned on him and she shrugged, looking at the screen again when she got a Snapchat. "I don't know. It's easier communication. You guys had those rotary phones back in your time, didn't you?"

He nodded, then hesitated. "I never had one. I couldn't afford one, but yes."

She made a point to unlock hers and bring up her phone screen. Thankfully, her lock and home screen pictures were just a pale blue background with the quote "Slow progress is still progress" on it. Kept her humble. Her apps were all categorized in the little boxes so that the quote still showed, but all she had to do was click on the one labeled 'social media' to show him the plethora she had collected overtime. 

"So, there's a lot of social media, which is basically just a place for teenagers to post pictures so their crushes will like and comment on them―yes, I am one of them―" she interrupted for him, shooting him a look "―but it really depends on what you're looking for. There's a lot of different kinds. For instance, my generation uses Instagram and Snapchat. Sometimes, Twitter. They are the more trendy, immediate ways of talking to your best friends. Your generation uses Facebook. As in, they make their kids pull up pictures from Aunt Sandy's fiftieth birthday anytime they come visit them in the nursing home..." then she paused, frowning at herself and shooting him a look. "Sorry, was that insensitive?" 

"I...have no idea what you just said." 

"Want me to order you some hearing-aids online? I can get it shipped in two days. Amazon Prime is great," she explained excitedly, grinning at him. Steve opened his mouth, but had nothing to say, so he shut it again and watched her light up again when she talked. "These are called apps―" 

"Like appliances?" he asked in the same manner as before. 

She decided to let him have that one. "Sure, or applications. Basically, all of these little pictures bring you to different programs and corporations―" she saw his eyes furrow in confusion already so she pressed on her Instagram "―and when you press it, it will bring up the program. Kind of like a website...you do know what a website is, right?" 

"Yes, MJ. I know what a website is." 

Lizzie ignored the tug in her gut at her nickname and continued on. "Just checking, Gramps. Essentially, all of these little things take you to different platforms like websites that can be used to talk to other people―see, this is my best friend, Taylor―" 

Lizzie suddenly stopped talking, an alarm bell going off in her head saying 'ABORT! NO, LIZZIE!' very loudly. She swallowed hard when she realized that she had given him another piece of information about her she shouldn't have. Steve noticed, he always noticed, but he thought the teenage girl grinning in the picture was the reason and that she just missed her. He decided to move on for her, clearing his throat and taking her out of her panic. 

"And everything is just in that little picture?" he asked. 

Lizzie glanced up at him, blinking away the anxiety she felt, and nodded. Play it off, you idiot. "Yeah, pretty much. I do think it's screwing up some kids' social skills, don't get me wrong, but the science and psychology and creativity behind it all is pretty cool...I don't know. You can look at the bad and the good in it, I guess. I just think it's easier for you to see the bad because you haven't really had the chance to see all of the good."

Before they could continue their conversation any longer, they were interrupted by the sound of a loud crashing echoing throughout the small cafe. Lizzie only had the time to blink in shock before Steve was gone from his seat across from her, now standing like a human shield in front of her chair with an arm raised to keep her back. As his eyes scanned the room for a threat, heart racing erratically, he was unaware that Lizzie had been unconsciously doing the same thing from behind his back. Her hand was raised to her necklace, ready to press the panic button Carson made.

"Oh, damn you!" came a curse from behind the counter of the cafe. "Stupid thing, always falling."

Lizzie watched, her adrenaline spiking all over the place, as their waitress, Martha, came back up from the behind the counter with a shattered coffee pot in her hands. Realizing they were alright, she let a shaky breath escape and released her right hand, which had been clutching the back of her chair tightly in preparation to run. When had she become so paranoid? She supposed that answer came around the same time she started working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and small crashes had the potential to be deadly explosions or gunshots.

Then she noticed that Steve was still standing stiffly in front of her, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Swallowing hard, she slowly inched her arm forward until she was able to touch his, and he instinctively coiled around and made her flinch in surprise. The worst part was that he saw it. Lizzie watched him closely. Something was missing in his eyes, and she could tell by the emptiness of his face that he had disappeared―left somewhere, in some state of mind, he did not want to be. When he noticed her flinch, his face twisted into one of confusion, and he flickered his attention from her to Martha cleaning up the mess a few times to gather his surroundings.

"Steve..." she said. Carefully. She didn't try to touch him again. "Are you okay?" 

It took him a few more seconds to recollect himself, and she waited patiently with one hand ready to jump up quickly and the other seated awkwardly in her lap. But she never took her eyes off of him, and she could feel a relieved exhale escape when the light started to return in his eyes. He nodded slowly, glancing down at his hands a few time and flexing them to relieve them of their tight fists, before he looked back at her. Lizzie was surprised to see the concern from earlier dance in his eyes again. 

"Are you alright?" he asked instead of answering her question. "I'm sorry. I..." 

She looked at him with pure confusion. "What are you apologizing for?" 

Steve stayed quiet for a second, his mouth tight-lipped. He didn't know. He wasn't entirely sure what he was sorry for, but the apology still came out. Maybe he was sorry because he could see the flicker of fear in her eyes―or that he had ruined their conversation. He didn't know, but it was hard enough to think with a million thoughts ringing dangerously in his mind, and with the way his palms were sweating and his heart was racing, he had to apologize for something. 

Lizzie hesitated before slowly pushing herself out of the chair, being mindful of not taking any fast movements like she usually did. "Do you want to leave?" 

"No, no..." he instantly protested, shaking his head, but she could still see the delirium in his behavior and responses. "We can...stay." 

His actions alone made the decision for her. Lizzie turned around and started to carefully collect their belongings from the table, grabbing her keys and phone in one hand and Steve's book. She fiddled around with her phone to grab a twenty out of her case, thanking Sharon for giving her an allowance. As she did this, Steve continued to look around the cafe with careful eyes, and only when there was a hesitant hand on his arm did he turn back down to the short girl standing anxiously in front of him. 

"Come on," she said, giving him a comforting smile. "I need to get ready for school anyway." 

She didn't. 

Steve nodded, swallowing the dryness in his throat and putting his hands in his pockets. "All right." 

That Tuesday morning in the cafe was never talked about again. Steve had eventually shaken out of the state he was in by the time they got to their apartment complex, but she could still tell the effect that it had on him. His shoulders were tense, ears pricking at every sudden noise on the streets and being more mindful than usual of where she was beside him. She would appreciate the gesture if she wasn't so concerned. When she had finally gotten back home, an hour and a half before she was due at S.H.I.E.L.D., she ignored Sharon's questions when her older sister saw the blank expression on her face.

What she did do was grab her laptop and search one thing on Google: How do you help someone with PTSD?

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Author's Note: 

Hi, I'm back! It's been a looooong time coming, but I finally felt inspired again to write this. It helped that I started another MARVEL story to get me in the mindset. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!  CA: TWS officially begins in the beginning of January, but I wanted to make sure that I was giving him and Lizzie enough time beforehand to build a friendship and have Lizzie learn some things at SHIELD.

With that said, I had a question: what would you like to see more of before we get into TWS plot?  More training with Sharon or Sitwell? Monroe? Aunt Peggy, Carson, or Fury? Maybe even her family. I want to make sure I'm developing ALL of these relationships, not just hers and Steve's, because they are all important to the plot of TWS when the time comes for me to start writing for the movie. 

As always, let me know what you thought of the chapter! Getting feedback helps me get chapters out faster when I know people are enjoying it. I'm talking to you, ghost readers--even the smallest comment helps validate the story and makes me inspired to write more for Lizzie. 

Thank you guys!   

In the meantime, totally go check out my new Bucky Barnes fic.