May 8th, 2049
With it being a beautiful spring day I decided to take my father's vintage motorcycle out for a spin instead of the more practical Audi parked in the driveway. Days off like today didn't happen very often now that I was officially Captain America. Since the bike was so special and I didn't want anything to happen to it I usually kept it covered and put away. But every now and when a day like today came around, the urge to get onto the open road was too overwhelming to resist. Dressed for riding I zipped up my civilian leather jacket, grabbed my helmet and my keys. It would be a bit uncomfortable to be dressed so warmly on a hot day, though avoiding potential roadrash was a much better choice in my mind than worrying about sweat stains.
Petting my black cat Westley who was winding through my legs wanting to come with me, I shoo him out of the way so I could open the front door. "Not today, Wes. I've got somewhere in mind that's too far away for you to be in your carrier." His plaintive meow has me crouching down to scratch under his chin. "You can't sweet talk me, mister. It's too hot out. The answer is no. Stay inside and an enjoy the cool air with Buttercup." With a flick of his long tail Westley growls lowly as he pouts on his way to the living room to do as he was told.
Exiting quickly I stood here for a moment on the wrap around porch letting the sun warm my face for a moment. Listening to the wind rustling the leaves of the trees as I take a centering breath. The peace and quiet of the countryside was nice. Unlike Avengers now and in the past, I didn't both live and work at the Avengers Facility otherwise known as the Compound. Instead I lived in the two story house my father had built three miles down the road that I'd lived in for a good part of my life. This meant I didn't have to bother with sneaking out when I wanted to take off on days like today.
Because as much as I loved my team and got along with my fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who worked at the Compound, there was simply no privacy. There was always someone asking where I was going or with whom. So nosy. Sure I understood that it came from a place of love and caring. But sometimes I just wanted to take off without being monitored. Which was hard to do nowadays.
Making sure to lock up, I make my way off the porch and around to the side of the house to the detached garage. Where the only things inside were some sealed bins of stuff leftover from my parents that didn't fit in the attic that I couldn't part with. Along with tools and my dad's shiny black Softail Slim. Taking the dust cover off I fold it up and set it on the spotless workbench with a grin on my face.
A smile never failed to come to me at the sight of the old girl. The Softail was one of the few things that I had left from my father that I had always loved and taken care of. Learning how to keep it in good repair with help from my uncles Tony and Bucky. And the second I was old enough to ride it, I had gotten my motorcycle license. Though I'd snuck off on the back roads up at Tony and Pepper's lakeside cabin more than once before then.
Slipping my helmet on I sling a long jean clad leg over the saddle of the bike and shift it upright to start the engine. The loud rumble has my heart racing ready to get on the road. Like it always does when I ride. Cranking the throttle a few times just for the hell of it brings a grin to my face. Easing the bike out of the garage and out onto the paved driveway.
As I do I see Wes sunning himself in his favorite spot on the plush bench that sat in the front room window alongside my older and just as beloved orange tabby, Buttercup. Both of them enjoying the sun while remaining cool in the air conditioned interior of the house. I loved the spoiled little ball of black fur. But man did he ham it up when he didn't get what he wanted.
Shaking my head I wind my way down the quarter mile to the main road. Then I opened her up. Taking off further up north where the highway would eventually take me to my aunt and uncle's place. Checking my mirrors and looking ahead to gauge that I had the road to myself, I shot off at full speed. It wasn't very law abiding of me as Captain America. However, after hearing about some of the stories of the things my father had gotten up to in his day I didn't let something as little as speeding hold me back now and then.
The drive to the Stark's lake side cabin was a long one, though it was one I enjoyed immensely, especially in the fall. It gave me plenty of time to think things out or to just blank my mind of everything overwhelming me at the time. Whichever was needed. From what my extended family has told me, it's something my father also liked to do. It was nice. It gave me some kind of connection to the man I don't ever remember meeting. There might have been a million photographs of me and my namesake before he died, but those were locked away along with most of the pictures of Steve Rogers. Before the end it had been too hard on my mother to see his face everyday. Especially the aged version.
Unlike my mom the feelings I held for Steve Rogers were complicated. On one hand I ate up every bit of knowledge about him that I could get my hands on. Of course I ignored the media stories and history reels unless they were written or interviewed by someone who actually knew the former Captain.
No, I preferred talking to the people who did know him. The people who loved him. Flaws and all. And then once I became captain, I read through every report typed up in his own hand. Learning from his mistakes and sharing in his victories in this small way.
Then again. On the other hand I held a lot of resentment towards Steve Rogers. He'd abandoned my mother to go back in time to go to live the life that he felt had been stolen from him with another woman. And while Veronica 'Ronnie' Stark had been understanding, though rightfully heartbroken, I didn't get it. If it was me I wouldn't have allowed him to take off without the knowledge of how I really felt about him. I wouldn't have spared him an ounce of my pain so he could live guilt free without me.
Granted my mom hadn't known she was pregnant at the time, though she had a feeling something was off at the time. If she had just sat him down and told him how she felt. To see if he felt the same way or at the very least give him the chance to be there for me as I grew up. If she had given into that feeling and taken a pregnancy test then the both of them would have...
While I understood my mom's thinking, I didn't agree with it one bit. Right up until the day she died Ronnie Stark had never once allowed a bad word to be spoken about the love of her life. Not even from her own daughter.
There had been a period of time in my early pre-teens when I hated being told how much I looked just like the man who'd left me and my mother behind. I hated being forced to smile while people went on and on about how wonderful a man he was. To have sacrificed so much for everyone else and blah, blah blah. So when I was twelve at the peak of my hate I'd gone out and gotten brown colored contacts to look more like the Stark side of the family. To hide the ocean blue eyes that were the mirror of my fathers. I also stopped wearing any of the colors red, white or blue in my version of pettiness. Choosing instead to wear black, silver and more black. I guess you could call it my emo phase.
Even now as an adult I had a hard time being compared to him. Though not as much as before. It was more like it hurt my heart. And there was still long held anger that I doubted I would ever be able to let go of. But when my mother passed away it had all seemed pointless to hate him when deep down I knew I loved him. Like I said, complicated.
When my mom died, with the encouragement of my uncles and aunts, I started therapy and worked out a lot of my issues regarding my father. For the most part anyway. Enough for me to eventually join S.H.I.E.L.D. after I finished college. A request that was in my mom's will. I go to and finish college. then I could follow in my parent's footsteps. However, I was sure her hopes had been that I would one day take over as head of Jarvis International Finance and help Morgan run Stark Industries rather than follow the path they took becoming an Avenger. Wanting both, Morgan and I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. after our respective graduations. Quickly working our way up the ranks like any new recruit rather than just expected to be given a spot on the team.
The both of us wanted to earn our way. Not have it handed to us. Nepo babies we weren't. Not that Director Maria Hill would allow us do it that way. She didn't believe in favoritism. Or at least not blatant favoritism. Besides, it was important to my cousin and I to do it the harder way. As well as knowing it would only have our fellow agents resent us in the long run if we didn't put in the time like they had. Respecting your fellow agents and eventual leaders was vastly important.
After S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intense training that led to me heading up the S.T.R.I.K.E. team for two and a half years until I was promoted to Captain when Bucky told me he was ready to retire.
I was the fifth to take on the infamous title.
First of course was my dad. Then Sam. No one talked about John Walker. Preferring to skip over the man who sullied all that Captain America stood for by outright murdering a man in cold blood with my father's beloved shield. Then it was Buck and now me.
After the disaster that was John Walker, uncle Sam had taken on the mantle for nearly a decade when he'd had to step down due to personal reasons. Using his love for her and Steve, Sam then convinced uncle Bucky to take the job. Knowing at that point I would one day want it and wanted the title to be held by someone we all trusted. Also knowing Buck having the serum slowed his aging down he would eventually be the one to pass the red, white and blue shield over to their best friend's daughter. Which, after initially refusing the title several times, Buck had been the second longest to hold it after my dad.
I've been captain now for about a year and a half. And in that short amount of time I took to the promotion full tilt. But the ghost of my father kept pushing its way to the forefront of my mind distracting me from my job. So after a meeting with Director Hill I put in a temporary request for leave.
Not for long mind you. Just long enough for me to figure a few things out.
One of those things being heading out to talk to my uncle about whether or not he'd be willing to help me.
With what you ask?
Using the time machine I knew he had stashed away at an undisclosed location. For a one time use to go back and meet my father face to face. To my thinking, I reasoned that if I could just meet him. Talk to him one time. Then I would fulfill my greatest wish and would then be able to move on. Get my head back in the game so I could do my job with a clear head and a clear heart.
Spotting the turn off I take it. Twice as long to drive down as my own driveway, this one was even more shaded by the surrounding forest. The quiet even more so with no neighbors in a five mile radius in any direction. Coming up to the side of the front porch I took a deep breath as I parked. Gripping the handlebars of my motorcycle as I kill the engine. Still straddling the bike I attempt to give myself a pep talk.
I could do this. It was just a simple conversation after all. I mean, who wouldn't try to do everything they could to meet their dad if they had this chance? After going my whole life having never met the man, growing up with stories about him, it would stand to reason that I would not only idolize the man but would also want to see him face to face.
Being honest with myself I've been a coward for far longer than I'd like to admit to. Thinking about asking my uncle for months now. Ever since Christmas to be specific. And while Tony wasn't the only one who might understand where she was coming from, he was the only one who could help me fulfill my life's greatest wish. If my uncle said no I was determined to make my counter arguments, and if he still said no. Well there wasn't any shame in outright begging. And if he still said no.. Well, then I would have to let it go once and for all. It'd be hard but I would do it.
Swallowing roughly I set the kickstand as I took off my helmet. Shaking out my long ebony tresses as I swung my leg over to stand up and then set it on the seat. I hadn't even taken two steps when the front door of the Stark's cabin opened. Standing there was my aunt with a wide smile on her beautiful face and her arms open wide. Ready to give me a warm welcoming hug. "To what do we owe the honor of having the very busy Captain America herself gracing us with a visit?"
"Hey Aunt Pep." Quickening my stride I race up the footpath and then the front porch steps right into Pepper Stark's embrace with a guilty grimace on my face.
It had been months since I'd been able to do anything more than a weekly check in phone call. Before I took on the mantle of captain I would come out here every weekend for Sunday dinner with Morgan. But I just didn't have the time, though now I didn't have any excuse with the break from my duties.
"Before you lay into me. I know and I'm sorry it's been a while. I've been trying to wrap some things up before I took a brief sabbatical from the team." I say, kissing her cheek.
Keeping her hands on her niece's shoulders Pepper leaned back to worriedly scrutinizes Stephanie's beautiful face. Seeing the tension tightening the skin around those ocean blue eyes and the half as bright smile had the older woman worried. Knowing all of the hard work Steph put into becoming Captain America it had Pep even more concerned that she was now taking an unexpected break. Brushing some stray strands out of her eyes, Pepper asks, "Is everything okay, hon?"
Waving away the older woman's concerns out of habit as I take a step back out of her hold. "Oh yeah. Everything is fine. I just needed to take a little breather, ya know. Recharge the batteries so I don't burn out." My aunt was always worried about me and her daughter ever since we had joined S.H.I.E.L.D.
Leaning back against the railing I pull the elastic off my wrist to toss my hair up into a messy bun. Peeking around her shoulder, I asked after my uncle's location to avoid the woman's eyes that could spot a lie with just one glance. It had to be a mom thing cause my mom had the same look. "I actually really need to talk to Tony. But I'd love to hangout for a bit once I'm done. If you guys aren't busy with something else, that is."
Arching her strawberry-blonde brows as she folds her arms over her chest, Pep narrows her blue eyes on me even more. "That depends. Is this Avengers business or personal business?"
"One hundred percent personal. I swear." I hold up a hand like the boy scout I never was. "Remember, I'm off the clock. That means no Avengering for me until I go back." I tack on with earnestness when Pepper eyes me with that suspicious expression.
I knew and understood my aunt's concerns when it came to my uncle. It's why I was only seeking him out to talk. I didn't want or expect Tony to come with me to the past or anything. His age wouldn't allow for it anyway. Though she would never say that to his face. For being seventy-nine Tony was still pretty spry and was as sharp as ever.
Seeing the seriousness in her eyes, Pepper slowly nods as she tries to gauge what was really going on. As much as she loved her niece there was no way she was letting anyone drag her husband back into that whole mess. Tony was too old to be jumping into one of his suits. Flying and fighting whoever decided to pop out of the woodwork this time. Tipping her head to the left she lets Steph know where he was. "He's out in the shed tinkering on Morgan's suit with whatever new modifications he's cooked up."
"Okay, cool. Well I'll make sure to drag him outside for some fresh air then. A walk around the lake will do him some good." Talking as I walk backwards I attempt to try to keep my tone light. But Pepper wasn't having the cagey way I was behaving one bit.
"Stephanie-"
Coming to a stop on the last stair I huff out a deep breath. "Aunt Pepper," I cut the older woman off and for once instead of getting upset, Pepper listens when she hears the desperation in my voice. "I swear on my mom; my being here has nothing to do with Avenger or S.H.I.E.L.D. business. I just need to talk to Tony about some personal stuff regarding my dad."
Now that did surprise the older woman. Stephanie didn't talk about Steve much. Sure she went through phases of wanting to know about him. However she usually used being out here as an excuse not to talk about him. Pepper really did understand why.
Steve Rogers was a touchy subject for everyone who knew him and hadn't agreed with his decision to go back to the 40's what with Ronnie having been pregnant with Steph and all. So for her niece to willingly come to talk to Tony about him it meant that this was important. "Lunch will be ready in half an hour. I'll expect both your butts at the table. Don't make me come out there to get you two."
Relieved that she wasn't going to push for more answers I nod eagerly. "For sure. I'll have us inside and washed up before then. Promise."
A light smile spreads across Pepper's face at that. Guard finally down she asks, hope in her tone, "Are you going to stay the night or will you be headed back after lunch?"
I knew Pep wanted to know whether or not she needed to get my room ready or to prepare some food to go regardless of what I said about staying after my chat with Tony. Pursing my lips I cock my head to the side as I shrug. "Full honesty? I'm unsure at the moment. I guess it all depends on how well this talk goes."
Both understanding and not exactly what she meant, Pepper nods and waves her off. Watching her niece attempt to stroll casually whe it was clear Steph was anxtious to talk to her husband had her biting back a smile. Though it fades a little as she turns to go inside to finish up lunch and set a third place setting at the table. When it came to talking about Steve Rogers it could go either way for her husband and her niece. They both had a complicated love/hate relationship with his memory so things could go one of two ways. The first being, Tony would spend hours talking about him telling Steph whatever it was she wanted to know. Or the more often it was the second option. He would shut down and refuse to say a word. It all really depended on if the memory of his baby sister cropped up to sweeten or sour his mood.