Sarah's POV
"Okay mom. I'm at my apartment now and need to put my groceries away. See you this weekend." I ended the call as I got to the top of the stairs and tucked my phone in my pocket. I guess I shouldn't really have been surprised to see Steve waiting for me; I figured we'd be having a conversation of some sort the moment I heard his voice over the coms earlier.
I had my keys in my hand, along with some groceries, my duffle bag over my shoulder. Steve had showered and changed into sweatpants and a tight Under Armor shirt already, his hair still wet, making it look more light brown than blond. He was leaning against my door, arms crossed and head down, but he straightened up when he heard me at the top of the steps.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I think we need to talk, Sarah," he said quietly, eyes meeting mine.
I nodded, "Come on in, Steve." I reached around him and unlocked my door. I moved past him and set the groceries in the kitchen, gesturing for him to come in. "Sorry about the mess, I'm still unpacking yet."
He stood in the living room, looking around while I went to hang up my suits, taking a minute to pull my hair back and change into shorts and a tank top. I guess the air conditioning wasn't programmed right yet since it was at least 85 degrees in my small apartment. I tinkered with it and got it working, but the thermostat was broken, so I made a mental note to tell Mr. Jones about it tomorrow so it would get repaired properly.
"Have you eaten?" I asked Steve as I walked back into the kitchen and pulled a couple beers from the fridge.
"No, not yet. I just got home a little bit ago."
I opened my beer and handed one to Steve, gesturing for him to sit down at the table so he wouldn't be in the way. He looked like he was lost in thought as he watched me unpacking the grocery bags and start cooking. Since it had been kind of a long day, I was making my favorite food, fajitas.
I pulled up a playlist on my phone and with a couple taps had it coming out on surround sound. Adele was my go-to on days like this. I'm a pretty positive, cheerful, person, but I have my odd down moments, too. I looked at Steve surreptitiously while I cooked, waiting for him to start talking, but he didn't. I don't think Steve realized he was watching me the whole time, like he couldn't get enough of me. After I thought about it, I didn't really believe it was Sarah he was seeing.
I plated up the food and set it on the table, rousing Steve from his thoughts. His startled eyes met mine and I gently said, "It's fine; just eat and then we'll talk." I knew he wasn't expecting me to feed him or anything, but I was starving. I hadn't eaten much for lunch and that seemed like a long time ago.
"What is this?" Steve asked as he picked up his fork and stabbed at the spicy chicken.
"Fajitas. They're my favorite Mexican dish," I said around a mouthful of food. "It's kind of spicy, though." I warned him. Can't say I didn't warn him. Sure enough, he took a quick drink when the heat sank in. I giggled, not very nice of me, but at least they weren't as hot as I would normally make them.
"So they are. It tastes good, though. So where are you from, Sarah?" he asked before taking another bite.
I decided that he needed to know who I was so he could separate me from Peggy in his mind. I took a swig of my beer, starting to tell him about Sarah Evans.
"I was born in a small town in South Dakota. Most people out East don't even know the state exists, so the details aren't important. We moved a lot when I was younger, but when I was 12, we moved to New Jersey so I could go to a better school. It was great, I loved living in a college town; there's always something to do. My dad's a history professor and my mom's a nurse, so they were able to make it work so I could go to Princeton."
"For high school?"
"No, for grad school. I graduated college early and got a full ride scholarship for as long as I attended." I went back to eating for a bit while he thought that over.
"So you went to college when you were twelve?" He was struggling to wrap his mind around that. I knew that wasn't the norm for most people, but it was for me.
"Yep. I was 10 when I got my undergrad degree, actually. I spent a couple years at Princeton until Agent Gregg said I could finally come to the Shield Ops Academy full time. Ops wouldn't take me officially until I was 14. I could've went to Sci-Tech sooner than that, but I was content to stay at Princeton until I was old enough." I looked up to see him studying me closely.
"How old are you, Sarah?"
"17 - no wait, I'm 18 now. My birthday was a couple weeks ago; I forgot about it with everything that was going on. How old are you?"
"Physically, 25. Biologically, 93. Natasha gave me a cake with 94 candles on it when we became friends after New York even though it wasn't my birthday."
"94 individual candles?" I laughed at the thought of that many candles on a cake. I can only imagine - the heat would've been sweltering. "Did you make a wish?" I teased, and instantly wished I could take it back as I watch emotions flit across his face. I cursed my stupidity; I'd hit a nerve again. I looked down at my plate, the smile slipping from my face.
"I did." He finally answered, his voice rougher than before. I glanced up to see him looking at me, but I was almost certain it wasn't me that he was seeing right then. "I'm still not sure if you're my retribution or my reward."
I raised my eyebrows at his apparent belief in that. "Steven Rogers, I sincerely believe that you are the last person on this earth deserving of retribution." My fervent statement focused his eyes on me. "I don't know if you believe in God anymore, but the God I believe in is a loving God, not a vengeful one. You're still a good man, Steve – 67 years in the ice didn't change that."
My face flushed when he didn't answer. I quietly finished my food as he put his thoughts in order; my outburst had surprised him. I tossed the empty bottles in the recycle bin and rinsed off my plate and the frying pan, tidying up as I waited for Steve to finish. I poured myself a glass of Coke and pulled a bottle of Captain Morgan from under the sink, adding a solid dollop to my glass. I turned and looked at Steve, raising the bottle so he could see it, but he shook his head.
"I don't mind it, but I can't get drunk." I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "The serum that they gave me. For some reason, it doesn't matter how much I drink, I won't even get a buzz."
"That's some side effect," I said slowly, and he nodded. "So where's Steve Rogers from?"
"Brooklyn."
"And Captain America? Sorry I didn't recognize you when I first met you. I wasn't aware you had an apartment in this building."
"It's all right; I'm still not used to people knowing who I am." He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "It's still strange to me how often I get approached for pictures."
"Better you than me. I prefer to avoid the spotlight. Will you tell me your story, Steve?"
"Are you sure you want to hear it? It's kind of a long story."
"I've got time; besides, I'm kinda getting the feeling I should probably hear the whole story from you."
I took his empty plate from him and rinsed it off, setting it in the sink for later. I went into the living room, turning down the music until it was barely audible while Steve settled on the end of my couch. I plopped down on the other end, tucking my feet under me, my hands wrapped around my cold drink and ready to listen. I was somewhat familiar with the basic story; his miraculous revival had been all over Ops and social media after the Battle of New York.
"I haven't really ever told anyone my whole story," Steve stalled, searching my face carefully.
"I'm not just anyone," I smiled gently, not pressuring him further. I wanted to know how I fit into his story, but at the same time, I didn't. I was afraid in a direct comparison, I would be the one coming up short.
"No, you are most certainly not." His brow furrowed as he lost himself in thought. I waited patiently; this wasn't going to be a brief conversation.
Finally, he started to tell me who Steve Rogers was, starting with when he first started trying to enlist in the army. His voice was wonderfully rich and deep. The cadence of his words was different from modern speech and his phrasing was more similar to that of my favorite classic novels than everyday conversation. It took a while for him to get it all into words; even then, I got the sense that he was telling me more than I was meant to hear. I listened attentively, committing his words to memory because I didn't think I would ever hear him tell this story again.
The sheer amount of obstacles pre-serum Steve Rogers had to overcome to even make it to becoming Captain America, scratch that - to make it to adulthood - was astounding; the fact that these impediments never broke his spirit, even more so. There was a reason the nation adored him. He was a living legend, an embodiment of America's fighting spirit and determination.
I finished my drink and sat the empty glass on the coffee table. The AC had brought down the temp enough for me to be cold now, so I just grabbed a blanket from the arm of the sofa behind me and wrapped it around myself, not wanting to disturb Steve. If he stopped now, he might never finish this story.
I heard the anguish in his voice as he told me about how he'd lost his best friend to a Hydra attack. I was sure that Bucky's death was part of the reason why he didn't try to find another alternative to crashing that plane only days later. He'd promised Bucky that they'd be together until the end of the line; but Steve had missed his stop. I knew he regretted not having closure with Peggy, but the survivor's guilt he felt was even stronger than that. Pre-serum Steve must have had an incredibly strong sense of duty for it to have been amplified like that.
"And the next thing I remember is waking up in this time. They tried to make my recovery room seem like I was still in the 40's, but there were a couple of things that were just, I don't know, off, I guess. I broke out, running into the streets to Times Square, and that's when I met Nick Fury."
"And started saving the world all over again." I finished for him, "But this time from aliens."
Steve nodded. I got up and grabbed a couple bottles of water and turned off the AC. When I got back into the living room, Steve was holding my blanket, looking at it with a bemused expression. I handed him a bottle of water and he shot me a grin. I looked at my blanket and burst out laughing when I realized it was my ratty old Captain America one from when I was a kid. My best friend, Jace, was a huge Cap fan and always got me something Cap themed for my birthday.
"Not trying to make this even weirder, but you should know you were my favorite hero when I was a kid, Steve. You're part of the reason I wanted to join Shield."
His laugh was a little rusty, but it was a real laugh. He finished the water quickly as I settled the blanket around my shoulders again and let my hair down to cover the goosebumps on my neck.
"Are you cold?"
A little. The thermostat's broke, so I'll have to tell Mr. Jones tomorrow so he can get it fixed."