Music is "Ashes" by Madi Diaz.

Picture is Grant Barnes.

·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Same Mistakes

After we get back from a walk down memory lane, it's almost sundown. To clear his head, Steve heads to the nearest gym in downtown Brooklyn. Having a similar train of thought, Grant and I put on some running clothes and jog around the block surrounding our Manhattan apartment. It's something I do often to clear my own mind, and every now and then Grant tags along. He prefers to be in a library or museum, but sometimes he attempts to follow my speed.

For me, running is therapy. When the air rushes in and out of my lungs, every fiber of my body on fire, I feel as if I finally might outrun my past. Good and bad, the memories haunt my every waking, and sleeping, moment. So I keep pushing myself, throwing myself into harms way to help someone else. I can't die. I know that now. Why not do some good with it?

"Slow down!" Grant shouts, slowing to a stop behind me. He places his hands on his knees, bracing himself. "Not everyone is a super soldier!"

I chuckle, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Grant nods with heavy breathing. "I hate exercise. I hate it."

"I used to as well," I reply. "But then I got faster. Now I feel like I'm flying whenever I run."

We start to jog again, slower this time, side by side. We weave through the busy streets of Manhattan, seeing the large skyscrapers pierce into the sky. We even spot Stark Tower from the ground. "So are we gonna ignore the fact that you woke up screaming and in a cold sweat last night?" Grant asks, tearing my eyes away from the big, ugly building. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Bucky again?"

I turn my attention to the path ahead. "It's always either Bucky, Steve, or Germany. Always those three."

"So was it Bucky last night?" he presses, sensing my hesitation.

I nod. "Yes. It was a memory at first, a good and happy one. It was Rose and Dum Dum's wedding. I had finished dancing with Peggy. She cheered me up, gave me a pep talk. When I turned around, everything faded to grey. Bucky..."

We cross the street, heading back towards the apartment. "You can tell me, Mom," Grant insists in a gentle voice. "I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to protect me."

I give him a thankful look and a small smile. "I know, darling, but it was only more of the same. My subconscious mind telling me that I left him to die. I could have survived the fall."

"Your nightmares used to scare me so much when I was little," Grant says a few minutes later. "I was only a few years old when I came to live with you. For a long time, you would lock your door a night and scream in your sleep. I remember being so scared that someone was hurting you. I remember thinking I'd lose you like I lost my parents."

"Oh, Grant," I sigh sadly.

"I remember the first night I saw you have a night terror," he continues. "I was six. I think you forgot to lock your door, so when the screaming started, I went into your room. I saw you thrashing around, sweating, screaming and crying in pain. I ran to your bed, jumped on, and started shaking you. I screamed, 'Momma, Momma, wake up!'"

"I remember."

"When you finally did, you hugged me to your chest and cries for what seemed like hours. I remember being scared, but I knew everything would be okay because you were awake. I knew from then on that I would come every time you had a nightmare. I would protect you from your dreams."

We stop in front of the apartment entrance. I turn to Grant with a loving eye. "I never locked my bedroom door again."

Grant tightens his red bandanna that keeps his jet black hair out of his eyes. "I remember, the next day, I asked you what you dreamed about. You put me on your lap and pulled out pictures of Bucky, Steve, Peggy, Aunt Rose, Uncle Dum Dum, Colonel Phillips, Howard Stark, and the rest of the Commandos. You told me stories about the war, about your friends and family, about your husband. You told me about Captain America, Lady Liberty, and their famous Howling Commandos. You told me you had lost your best friend and your husband a long time ago, and that you had nightmares about how they died almost every night."

I shake my head, running a hand through my blonde ponytail. "I can't believe you remember all this."

"I never forgot. I think you're part of the reason I love history so much. You lived it. I have an eyewitness to the past century as my Mom." He laughs, dimples popping out on each side of his smile. "I have the coolest Mom in the world."

I pull him in for a tight embrace. "I have the coolest son in the world."

Grant pulls back with a shy smile. "So don't be sad. You have me, Rose, and Peggy. Now you have Steve." He grins mischievously singing the Bob Marley tune, "'Don't you worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little thing is gonna be all right!'"

I shake my head as he continues to sing "Every Little Thing." We both head into the apartment. On the other side of the door, we spot Steve with a handful of folders. Grant immediately stops singing, sensing the tension in the room change. Steve doesn't turn as we enter. "They keep making the same mistakes," he sighs, exasperated, as he flips through one of the files. "The same damn mistakes."

I walk over to him, glancing over his shoulder with caution. "Steve, what's wrong?"

He tosses a folder to his left. It falls in front of me. It reads as a classified S.H.I.E.L.D. file. "Where did you get this?"

"Nick Fury. He came to the gym."

I scoff, crossing my arms in frustration. "I told him to leave you alone."

Steve turns towards me. "He talked to you?"

I nod. "Yesterday. You were in with Peggy. He wanted our help on some daft quest for a mad man. I told him you needed time to recover."

Steve gives me a stern look, and his voice elevates slightly. "That wasn't your call to make."

"I did what was best for you. You have been out of the ice for, what, a week? You can't just hop back onto the battlefield."

He opens the folder beside us, pointing an angry finger at a picture of the Cosmic Cube that Schmidt used back in the day. "Howard fished this damn thing out of the Arctic back in '45. He's been tampering with it ever since, and now S.H.I.E.L.D. is, or was. It was stolen."

"Loki?" I ask. "Fury told me, but that's all he told me."

"Did you know Howard found the Cube? Did Rose? Did Peggy?"

"I didn't, and I don't know. Does it matter?"

"We died for this," Steve says, tapping the photograph. "They made a mess out of things, and now we gotta go clean it up again."

"Surely, S.H.I.E.L.D. has other people," I insist. "Let them deal with their own messes."

Steve pauses. "I want to do this, Emma. I need to. The Red Skull did horrible things with that Cube. I have to make sure no one ever touches it again. Not Fury, not Stark, not anyone. And if this Loki figure is as dangerous as Fury's file says he is, we'd be better off if he's behind bars." His eyes look to the file again. "Fury also said that if I helped him, he could get you and Grant your citizenship back. He promised he'd wipe all your records of what you did in the past. You'd be a free woman."

I throw my hands into the air in frustration, walking away from the kitchen counter. I rub my temples. "There's the truth," I breathe.

"It's all the truth, Emma Jane. I don't lie."

"And maybe I like living in Paris!" I shout, turning around with a cross look on my face. "France is my home now, just as New York was so many years ago. It's Grant's home, it's where he has friends and a life. We're happy in France. What makes you think we'd want to move back to America? Their politics are a mess. Their government is a disaster. Their politicians care more for themselves than the people they represent. America is a sinking ship, Steve! They would rather lock up people like you and me rather than face the unknown! The Captain is crying, 'Abandon ship!' It's time to get off the boat before we're pulled down with her."

"Then we help them become better!" he retorts. "When the country you love is sinking, you don't abandon ship. You grab a bucket. And I know you must love France, but can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't like to live in Brooklyn again? See Rose every day? See Peggy as often as you like? Visit Rossi's and St. Gabriel's? Stroll through Central Park and visit Coney Island? Be near Bucky's resting place?"

I turn away, knowing he's right. "Of course I would."

"Then let me do this," he whispers, walking over to me with a gentle demeanor. He places his hands on my arms, reassuring me. "It's just an alien prince who stole something powerful. I can get rid of the Cube and get my friend back." He smiles. "Two birds with one stone. I can't do this without you, Emma. You're the closest thing I have to family now. You and Rose and Peggy. Please, don't make me lose you, too."

I place my hands on either side of his face, sighing in surrender. "All right, but I'm doing this with you. Just like the good old days."

Steve smirks. "I don't remember you being quite so angry in the good old days."

I roll my eyes. "I aged, Steven. You would be surprised what makes you angry when you're ninety-four."

·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·

The next morning, after Steve told Fury we were both in for the mission, the Director sent his best man to pick us up. His name is Phil Coulson, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. He's a very polite man, but the moment he saw us I thought he was going to faint. As the three of us climbed into the aircraft Agent Coulson calls a Quinjet, he shakes both of our hands with vigor. "It's such an honor to meet you both. I'm a huge fan of everything you've done."

I nod in reply. Coulson shows us to our seats. Steve and Grant sit on either side of me. I tried to keep him at home or visit his aunt, but he's determined to visit the organization his mother and aunts created. "If you're going, then I sure as hell am going, too."

On the way to the S.H.I.E.L.D. mobile base, that's what Coulson referred to it as, he gives us some reading to do. Instead of being paper files like the ones Fury gave Steve at the gym, these files are digital. Lucky for Steve, I know a thing or two of digital files. "Fury said you should read these to get caught up on the other people we're bringing in." He gives us a friendly smile. "So far, we're getting Tony Stark, Agent Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, and Bruce Banner on this. Stark you know, or know of. Agent Romanoff is one of our best."

"Russian?" I ask, looking at the picture of a beautiful red-head woman. Her birth name is listed as "Natalia Alianovna Romanova," clearly Russian.

Coulson nods, leaning against the side of the Quinjet. "She used to be KGB. Thanks to a fellow agent, she works for us now. She's known as the Black Widow, the Chyornaya Vdova in Russia."

My brows pull together. "Chyornaya Vdova. I know that title."

Grant gives me a look of suspicion. "Your Lady Justice days?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. I need to go through my personal files and put two and two together. Perhaps this Natalia Romanova can help me do that."

"She's the best at what she does." Coulson's smile falters. "The agent who recruited her, Agent Clint Barton, is missing. Loki kidnapped him when he took the Tesseract."

"The what?" Steve asks.

"The Cube. That's what we're calling it now. 'The Cosmic Cube' seemed a bit...presumptuous." Steve and I nod, looking through the information. "Maria Hill is as talented an agent as Romanoff and Barton. They're in the same class of agents, the highest level of security clearance. Only a select few others are in that class, including myself and Agent May." To our confusion, Coulson waves his hand. "You don't know her yet."

Steve points to the file on Bruce Banner. "So this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on us?"

Agent Coulson nods in agreement. "A lot of people were. You were the world's first superheroes. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

I press the play button on the video attached to the file. It shows a giant, green monster tearing a jeep apart. "Holy freaking Christmas cake," I mumble under my breath.

Steve comments, "Didn't really go his way, did it?"

"Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking."

Steve looks confused, turning to me. "He's a genius," Grant offers an explanation. "Our generation's Albert Einstein."

Steve nods, giving a thankful look to Grant. "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you both, officially." Steve and I smile at Coulson. "I sort of met you, Captain. I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

Steve looks at Coulson in slight amusement and discomfort. He stands, stretching his legs as the Quinjet slows. We must be getting close to the mobile base. I give my oldest friend a teasing grin. Coulson amends his statement as Grant snickers beside me. "I mean, I was...I was present while you were unconscious from the ice." The middle aged agent sighs heavily, adding, "You know, it's really, it's just a...just a huge honor to have you both onboard."

Steve looks out the window, his expression serious. "Well, I hope we're the people for the job."

Agent Coulson looks at him in surprise, reassuring him with, "Oh, you are. Absolutely!" Steve gives the agent a thankful expression. After a moment, Coulson glances back to me. "We weren't sure you were coming, Mrs. Barnes. I hope you don't mind that we prepared a uniform in case you did."

"A uniform?" I inquire. "We're going to help you take out an interstellar thief, nothing more. Why would I need a uniform?"

"Just in case things get messy," he shrugs. "Fury insisted. Besides, if you decide to come back on a more permanent basis--"

"--That won't be the case, agent. I can assure you."

Agent Coulson nods. "It's up to you, but like I said. In case things get messy, you'll want something that makes you stand apart."

"Why would we want that?"

"Because the world is going to need heroes after what they're about to find out. Just last week, a handful of Norse gods from legend almost leveled an entire city in New Mexico. I was there. We were able to keep that quiet, but this? Whatever Loki has planned?" Coulson shakes his head. "We might need Captain America and Lady Liberty again."

Coulson turns to talk to both Steve and I. "Uh...we've made some modifications to your uniforms. I had a little design input. The theme is still the same. They only offer more protection than the ones in the 40s did."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Aren't the stars and stripes a little...old fashioned?"

"It's like I told Mrs. Barnes," Coulson replies. "Everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old fashioned."

With a nod in agreement, Steve looks towards the window once again. "Emma, Grant," he sighs, waving us over. "Getta look at this."

Grant and I get up from our seats. Through the window, we see a large aircraft carrier floating in the middle of a large body of water. It's much more advanced than anything we had in the 1940s. I turn to see Steve's jaw almost on the floor. "Impressive, right?" Coulson grins. "It's called a Helicarrier. We have loads of them."

"I know what they are," I respond, turning to the friendly agent. "My sister-in-law, Rose Dugan, designed and engineered them."

We land one of the two runways. This runway has direct access tot he hanger at the rear of the massive battleship. The four of us exit the Quinjet, instantly surrounded by the noise of a working crew. If I close my eyes, it almost sounds like our time in the World War.

Agent Coulson leads us along the runway towards a familiar red-headed woman. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, strolls up to us. Her red hair curls around her chin, and her smile pulls to the corner of her mouth.

"Agent Romanoff," Coulson greets, "Captain Rogers, Sergeant Emma Barnes, and her son, Grant Lécuyer."

Grant interrupts, "I'm a Barnes. Always have been. Now I can call myself that without getting strange looks."

Coulson nods. Steve turns to Natasha Romanoff with a police nod. "Ma'am."

Natasha replies with a casual, "Hi." She turns to Agent Coulson. "They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace."

Coulson nods, and Steve replies, "See you there." He walks away, leaving Steve, Grant, and I with Natasha. We start walking towards the railing of the ship.

"There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon." She smirks. "Did he ask you to sign his Captain America and Lady Liberty trading cards yet?"

"Trading cards?" Steve asks, surprised.

"They're vintage. He's very proud."

Another man begins to walk towards us. He has curly, dark hair and a nervous expression. He doesn't seem to notice us as he keeps walking out of the way of other people.

"Doctor Banner!" Steve exclaims, offering a hand in his direction. 
 
The nervous doctor walks up to us, a small smile on his face. He shakes his hand, still nervous. "Oh, yeah. Hi. They told me you'd be coming."

I offer my hand as well. "Emma Barnes. It's a pleasure, Doctor Banner."

Bruce Banner shakes my hand, nodding politely. "Likewise, Mrs. Barnes." He turns to Grant. "And you are...?"

Grant extends his hand, following our lead. "Grant Barnes. I'm Emma's son."

As Bruce shakes Grant's hand, he looks back and forth between Grant and I in surprise. "Oh...oh! Okay then."

"Word is you can find the cube," Steve comments.

Bruce wrings his hands together, glancing around the Helicarrier. "Is that the only word on me?"

Steve offers a polite smile. "Only word I care about." Bruce gives the both of us a thankful look. "Must be strange for you, Captain, all of this."

Steve takes a moment to look around the Helicarrier, taking in the sights of the agents jogging behind their instructor. "Well, this is actually kind of familiar."

Natasha folds her hands behind her back. "Gentlemen, you may wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breathe."

The Helicarrier to shake, alarms going off. The large turbines pick up speed, kicking water into the air. "Is this is a submarine?" Steve asks.

I grin to myself. "Not quite."

The boys head even closer to the edge, peering over the railing to watch. Natasha and I remain behind. She leans over to ask, "They have no idea, do they?"

I lean back, grinning as I reply, "No idea at all."

Natasha smirks, her full lips pulling into a signature look. "Perfect."

Doctor Banner groans, continuing to wring his hands together with anxiety. "Really? They wanted me in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?" The Helicarrier begins to lift out of the water, moving up not down. Steve and Grant watch in awe of what Rose created. Bruce laughs in disbelief, a terrified smile forming on his face. "Oh, no. This is much worse!"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Come on, boys. We'd better head inside." She and I turn to leave. Grant hurries to my side. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to stay outside, Doctor."

"I don't think the Other Guy would like that. Wait for me!"

END CHAPTER SEVEN: The Same Mistakes.