'Ha, ha. Yes, let's all laugh at the girl in the hospital. Some superheroes you lot are.'

Saying anything is pointless because: 1) Éowyn is my first name; and 2) They are the Avengers, what could I possibly say to stop them?

This, however, doesn't prevent me from muttering under my breath and plotting my revenge. I'm a patient person. It'll be served extra frosty.

By the time Doctor Saunders has finished up, their laughter has died down. Once she leaves the room, the group begins to dissipate.

Nat- whose full name I discovered is Natasha, Clint, Tony, and Bruce apparently are all staying in Stark Tower. This sounds like a dumb idea to me. I mean, it's kinda like saying, "hey, here we are! If you want to get rid of us, we're all in the same place at the same time!" But I'm not a superhero, what do I know? Nat and Clint leave with just a nod of their heads towards me, and a verbal goodbye to Steve.

I just faintly smile at them. I still think they're scarier than a Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

Bruce is polite, saying how it was nice to meet me and that he hopes my arm will get better soon. He's adorable and my favorite of the four so far.

Tony invites me to the tower with more seriousness than Bruce had, making me think that maybe he isn't joking. He said something about it being like a "thank you for your progress in modernizing Cap." He doesn't give me an opportunity to respond though before he leaves.

"Ready to go?" Steve asks me.

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

The taxi ride home is silent, which I'm grateful for. I'm exhausted and I don't think I could string a sentence together with a needle and thread. When we arrive, Steve sees how tired I am and gives me a hand out of the car. He puts an arm around my shoulders and walks slowly with me up the stairs to our apartments.

After I fumble with my keys for a bit and manage to unlock my door, I hesitate. "Steve..."

"Yeah, Anne?" he prompts softly beside me.

Keeping my eyes on the door, I ask, "...Would you think I'm being paranoid if I asked you to check my apartment before I go inside...?"

Steve rests a hand on my shoulder. "Course not. I'll just be a second." He lets himself in, leaving the door open. Sweeping through, he checks every room, corner, and shadow and double checks the locks on my windows. Even though I haven't been able to open them since I've moved in. Once he finishes, he calls, "all clear."

I meet him in the entryway.

"If you need anything at all, just call me, okay?"

I nod with a tired smile, keeping my arm tucked to my chest. It's starting to throb distractingly and I should probably take some ibuprofen before I go to bed. "Thank you again, Steve, for staying with me and making sure I was okay."

He brushes it off. "Like I was going to leave you to bleed-out in an alley. What kind of friends have you had before that this would be surprising?" he teases, trying to keep things light.

I smile a bit more but I'm too tired to think of an answer. Instead, I glance uncomfortably around my empty apartment.

"Say, I have tomorrow off. Would you like some company?"

Looking back to Steve, I say, "That would be great, thank you." I eye him in playful suspicion. "You know, you're going to leave me severely in your debt, Rogers. I'm getting a little nervous about what I'll owe you when you come to collect."

He smiles back, looking a little happier that my response is tongue-in-cheek. "I'm a gentleman, I would never take advantage of a lady. Besides," he adds with gentle seriousness, "a lot of what I've done hasn't been just for you. I want to make sure you're okay for my sake almost as much as yours." Steve absent-mindedly brushes back my hair and my heart flutters- 'Hm. That's new.' -"It's what friends do for each other. Better get used to it." His expression slips back into playfulness. "I suppose I'll have to sit through some silly show of yours though, won't I?"

"It's what friends do for each other. Get used to it." I mimic back to him. "Besides, 'Stargate SG1' is a great show. It'll suck you in, just you wait."

He laughs. "Now something tells me that you will owe me for this."

≈o≈

I ended up sleeping in the next morning and since my arm throbbed with my every heartbeat, I moved a bit slower. Steve comes by a bit after eleven with lunch. It's some chicken thing and a salad. Our meals tend to be a lot healthier when Steve picks them.

We watch TV while we eat; Steve occasionally asking about what was happening and I answer as best as I can remember. He seems to laugh more with it than at it, so I classify it as a win.

After the third episode, he sighs a little. I don't think I was supposed to hear it. I can tell he needs to say or ask something that he doesn't want to.

"Go ahead, you're in a safe place, Steve," I tease as I stop the DVD.

He shoots me a playful glare before saying, "we need to talk about what you said, you know, at the hospital last night."

"Yeah, I kind of figured this would come up today." I grab one of my throw pillows and loosely hug it in my lap. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, how did you figure out that, that I'm-" he hesitates.

"Captain America?" I finish for him.

Steve shakes head slightly. "I'm still not used to saying it around you, I guess."

"It wasn't that difficult, actually."

He looks a little offended.

"Let's take a look at the evidence, shall we? People who shouldn't have a connection with you – my dad's friends – know you on sight, call you 'Captain', and seem to know a lot about you. After the reappearance of Captain America, you start disappearing on a frequent basis, going out to who knows where, never saying what you're doing but never gone consistently enough to indicate that you've started another term of service with the army. I'm pretty sure you've cracked at least three smart phones just by tapping them too hard. Then there were the pictures of Captain America in the newspapers; you may wear a half-mask, but your mouth and jaw are obviously the same and I'm pretty sure your body shape isn't exactly common. And let's not forget the weightiest piece that really made me suspicious: Iron Man knew exactly who you are. 

"So I started digging a little. I do work in a library, you know. We have a lot of historical information in our archives that we haven't converted onto microfilm yet. Some of that information is in the form of photographs. I recalled from stories my dad would tell me that Captain America joined the Howling Commandos sometime in WWII before he went MIA. So I searched for anything I could find that was related to them. I found some vague articles from the papers in the States, a couple of personal letters from some of the members to their families which didn't help much, and, finally, in a musty old box where it didn't belong, a photo. Just a second." I get up from the couch and go into my bedroom where I pull out a box from within the dark recesses of my closet. I quickly remove the lid and delicately take out an old photo in its protective, plastic sleeve.

I sit back down on the couch and hand the photo to Steve. I'm actually a bit nervous. This is someone from his past, someone he had to leave behind. They were obviously very close. I have no idea how Steve will take it.

He stares at it with unbelieving eyes, silent. It's like he isn't here anymore but back in that picture. I look from his face back down to the photo.

It's black and white and a bit distorted from age. But the subjects are plain to see. There's Steve, in his original Captain America uniform, but without his mask. He's wearing the biggest smile I've ever seen on him and his arm is slung over the shoulders of the second person. The man next to him is a bit smaller, with dark hair. He's dressed in some casual clothes from the forties and he's holding a sniper rifle in his hands. His grin is wide enough to compete with Steve's, but there's a cocky confidence in his that is missing in Steve's. They both look a bit dirty and disheveled, like they'd just finished a successful mission.

I sit with him quietly for a while, not wanting to break the silence.

'Should I not have shown him the picture?... I didn't mean to make him sad..."

"You can keep it, if you want." I say softly. "The contents of the box weren't catalogued, and besides, I don't think anyone would argue."

Steve finally looks away from the photo to look me in the eye. His blue eyes are wide from memories. He quickly throws an arm around me and pulls me tightly to his chest. The movement surprises me. My bandaged arm is caught between us and the couch and my other hand is pressed against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Anne. Whatever you think you owed me before, this more than covers it." The sincerity and depth of emotion in his voice makes my eyes water. I've never seen him so vulnerable. I try to rub his shoulder but I'm sure that my actions are more awkward than comforting. After a moment longer, Steve pulls away.

"Who um, who was he?" I ask as gently as I can. I know his name. Someone had written "Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes" on the back. But I want to know who he was to Steve.

"My best friend." He answers immediately. "He saved my scrawny skin when we were growing up, more times than I can remember."

"You were scrawny?" My natural instinct is to joke in these types of situations. I'm not very good at straight up comforting.

Steve gives a small smile, looking back at the photo. "I was a lot of things before um, before what happened- I'll tell you that story some other day. I was scrawny, weak, sickly. No military branch would take me, no matter how many times I tried. But Bucky always had my back. Always stood up for me, looked out for me. He saved my life too, several times over; stopping bullies before they went too far, getting me medicine I couldn't afford. He never left me behind. "

"He sounds like a great guy," I say before thinking how lame that must sound.

"He was the best man I've ever known," he answers with conviction.

"From what you've told me about him, it sounds like you two are a lot alike. I'm sure he'd be proud of you."

Steve smiles sadly at me but doesn't say anything.

"Is, is there any chance that...that he might still be alive?..." I ask hesitantly. "I know that that was a long time ago, but there are still some WWII veterans around today...maybe..." I trail off as Steve shakes his head.

"I watched him fall. Even after everything they did to me, it still wasn't enough- I still wasn't enough to save him."

I don't know exactly what he means, but I understand enough. Steve saw his best friend die. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I-I can't even imagine...I'm so sorry..." I squeeze his hand, holding on for moment before I let go.

We sit in silence again. He still looks so lost. I'm probably making a mistake, but I don't know how to help him, so I say, "you know that you're going to have to tell me eventually how you went from scrawny, weak, and sick to this," I gesture to him, "and how in the world you're still so, well-preserved. I mean, at best, you're what, like eighty-five? You don't bathe in the blood of beautiful young women or anything, do you?" I gasp playfully. "Don't tell me you're a Dúnadan, blessed with long life like Aragorn?!"

His smile seems to lighten almost against his will.

"If that's the case, you certainly have him beat 'cause you look fine." I choke. "I-I mean, you look okay, you know, 'not bad' kind of fine. Geez," I pull at my collar, "way to jump to conclusions." My laugh is the epitome of awkward.

I hazard a glance at Steve to see that his smile has grown to a smirk. "Oh, I think I know exactly what you meant."

'I'm a mess. Is my face actually in flames? Because it certainly feels that way.'

"Oh, be quiet." I backhand his shoulder only to immediately shake my hand out. Steve just laughs. "For crying out loud! I thought Stark was supposed to be the Iron Man!"

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A/N: I feel legitimately guilty for using that gif...I could've used some gooey/warm/fuzzy feelings gif of Bucky and pre-serum Steve...but I'm pretty sure the ghost of Emperor Palpatine was whispering in my ear for that choice, twisting my emotions for the dark side, convincing me that the tears of fangirls are sweet. Anyway, hail Hydra.