Chapter 53
New York, United States
July 2011
Steve was late.
He’d gone for a run and gotten lost. The city had changed a lot in the last sixty years and his old landmarks were gone, some street names had changed, and he got back to the Tower forty minutes after he’d intended. So here he was, showing up at the tail end of the meeting instead of the beginning. He could only hope Tony was still here.
Steve slipped in the back door.
Voices were coming from the open, well-lit room to the left. They swam into clarity as Steve approached.
“...think it’s getting worse,” he heard a woman say. “A cop pulled me over last week, thought I was drunk. I saw a plastic bag on the road and swerved.”
Steve leaned against the door frame and counted twenty-four people sitting in simple plastic chairs. An African American man in his twenties was leaning on a lectern at the front. The woman who was speaking leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. As Steve watched, she gave a helpless laugh and shook her head. “I thought it was an IED.”
“Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back,” said the man up front. “It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be a suitcase or a little man-purse? It’s up to you.”
A pleasant ding came from a little plastic device sitting on the lectern.
“That’s all for today,” the leader said. “Thanks for coming, guys, I’ll see you Wednesday.”
The gathering broke up into smaller individual conversations, the shuffle of feet and clothing, and the sound of chairs being dragged and put away. Steve spotted Tony through the group, speaking awkwardly but politely to two older men in the back corner.
“Two celebrity visits in one day,” someone said. “I’m honored.”
There was a hint of amusement in the man’s voice that instantly made Steve like him. He held out a hand.
“Sam Wilson,” the leader said.
“Steve Rogers,” Steve replied.
“Yeah, I kinda guessed that,” Sam said with a grin. “Here to pick up Iron Man?”
“He’s not Iron Man today,” Steve said with a glance at Tony. “Just another guy who’s been shot at too many times to sleep easy at night. Not a soldier, but… He’s got PTSD. It got bad enough that we had to strongarm him into coming.”
“I hope we can help,” Sam said. “How about you? Sleeping easy?”
Steve snorted. “Not particularly.”
“It’s your bed right?” Sam asked.
“Huh?” Steve tore his gaze from Tony (he was just hoping that conversation didn’t devolve) and back to Sam.
“Your bed. When I was over there I slept on the ground, used rocks as pillows. Like a caveman. Now that I’m home-”
“It’s like sleeping on a marshmallow,” Steve agreed. He recognized something about Sam. They were both soldiers, scarred by what they’d done in service to their country.
“How long?” he asked.
Sam watched two women stack the last few chairs. “Two tours. We all got the same problems, man. Guilt. Regret.”
“You lose someone?”
“My wingman, Riley,” Sam said, and didn’t elaborate.
Steve nodded once. “I know what you mean,” he said.
Sam held out his hand again. “Well, thanks for dropping by. Come back around sometime, yeah?”
“I’ll do that,” Steve said, and shook Sam’s hand. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Yeah, well.” Sam shrugged. “It helps me too, you know? I’m actually headed down to D.C. for about a month or so, there’s some VA talks in the Senate I’d like to be there for.”
“High profile,” Steve commented. “See you around then.”
Sam nodded and headed back to the last few people in the room.
Tony finally broke off his own conversation and rejoined Steve. They left together and climbed in the car.
“You no-showed,” Tony said at last.
“Got lost running,” Steve said. “Didn’t have a phone with me. How’d it go?”
“Intense,” Tony said. Steve didn’t look over; he knew Tony’s eyes would be fixed out the windshield and his face would be blank. “But… it helped. I guess.”
“Good,” Steve said softly.
They rode in silence until the lights of Avengers Tower came into view.
Home. When had Steve started to consider this place home?