The day was April 7th, 1865. You quietly sat sewing next to Mary Todd Lincoln. You were one of her closest friends and confidantes. The two of you would sit together most days while President Lincoln was in meetings and the like. Another reason that you were so close to Mrs. Lincoln was because your husband, Steven Rogers, was a Captain in the Union army assigned to protect the President. Your husband was almost always accompanying Mr. Lincoln to meetings and stood next to him at all of his speeches. He always carried a red, white, and blue metal shield with him to use as a weapon and protection. You respected what your husband did, but since you were expecting your first child, you were always afraid that he was going to get injured or even killed. You stared out of the window absentmindedly for a few minutes before Mary caught your attention.

"(Y\N)...(Y\N)! What are you doing, dear?" Asked Mary, staring questioningly at you with your hand holding your needle frozen in the air. You shook your head and looked at her.

"It's nothing. I was just thinking about the future." Mary looked interested and started to put away her sewing.

"Please tell me what you were thinking about. I do love to hear the aspirations of others especially those considerably younger than myself." You smiled at her.

"Mrs. Lincoln, you mustn't talk as though you are so very old. You still have many good years ahead of you." Mrs. Lincoln laughed.

"My dear, there are several years between the two of us. I am an old woman whose children have long ago grown into men. You are just expecting your first child and are still young enough to dream of your future. Now, what were you thinking about." You gazed out of the window a moment longer.

"I was thinking over an idea I was planning on telling Steven about. I worry so much about him everyday, Mrs. Lincoln. I'm always afraid that I will be told that he is dead. Believe me, Ma'am, he loves protecting your husband, but I'm still worried constantly."

"What is your idea?" Asked Mrs. Lincoln. You took a deep breath.

"I think that Steven and I should move back to Massachusetts. I want the two of us to have our own land and animals, and I don't want to raise our children in the bustling city. I want them to be able to grow up humbly like the two of us did. I hope I don't sound rude, Ma'am. We love our life here, but we've been living like this for two years. It's hard for me to live like this." Mrs. Lincoln stood up from her chair and came over to where you sat. She placed her hands on one of your own.

"Dear, I think of you as though you are my own daughter. I had 4 boys and lost 2, never to have a daughter. I cherish having you here, but if you feel like it is time for you and Captain Rogers to go, I respect your decision. I'm sure that my husband will too. He relies very greatly on your husband for support and protection." You nodded your head as she spoke, relieved at the way she responded. There was a noise near the door to the parlor (where you two were sitting). The doorknob turned, and Steven and Mr. Lincoln walked into the room. Mary went back over to her chair, Mr. Lincoln sat in the chair next to her, and Steven sat next to you on the settee. As Steven sat down, he leaned his shield against the settee.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln, (Y\N)." Said Steven smiling. When he said your name he took your hand in his. Mrs. Lincoln nodded to him.

"(Y\N), Captain Rogers, I have something I would like to discuss with Mr. Lincoln if you wouldn't mind leaving early today. We'll see you both in the morning." Steven and you both nodded. He turned to you.

"Would you like me too help you stand up, Dear?" You nodded your head and smiled. You felt slightly puzzled though. You wondered why Steven had called you "Dear" when he usually didn't use such affectionate names for you when you were in the company of others, and you wondered why Mrs. Lincoln was asking the two of you to leave for the rest of the night. She had never done that before. Steven helped you to your feet, and the two of you left the parlor. The two of you then walked down the street to the small house where you lived.

"I wonder why Mrs. Lincoln asked for us to leave." You said as Steven helped you sit down on a chair in your small parlor. He sat down on a chair next to you after placing his shield against the wall.

"I haven't the slightest idea, but I don't mind. In fact, I was wanting to talk to you."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He shifted in his seat a little.

"I know that I'm not supposed to share some of the information that I know with others, but this time, I have to tell you what I know." You looked questioningly at him and took one of his hands in your own.

"Steve, if you need to keep the information confidential, I understand." He shook his head.

"No, I need to tell you. Do you remember hearing about the 'Secret Service' that the President was considering?" You thought about it for a moment.

"I remember hearing about something like that, why?"

"President Lincoln had decided to create the Secret Service division to protect him."

"What about you? Aren't you good enough?" Steve chuckled.

"If a group decided to attack the President, I wouldn't be able to take them all at the same time. I'm only one man."

"Yes, but you are my man." You looked down at your hands which were now intertwined with both of his and took a deep breath . "What are you going to do if the Secret Service is doing your job?"

"The President wants me to lead the division." You let silence fill the room. "Aren't you happy, (Y\N)? We get to stay in Washington." You looked up at Steve.

"I don't want to stay in Washington." you said with tears filling your eyes. He looked surprised.

"I thought that you liked living here." He said trying to get you calmed down.

"Steve, I hate that every day someone may try to kill you. I don't like having to worry about if you'll be here to see the baby's birth. It scares me, Steve." He was silent. "I want to go back to Massachusetts." you said quietly. He nodded his head.

"I wish that you would have told me sooner, Dear. I don't want to make you worry. You know, I heard Lieutenant Barnes talking about going back to Massachusetts. Maybe we could be neighbors." You were surprised.

"We can go home?" Steve smiled and nodded his head.

"If it will make you happy."

--------------------------------------------

The next day it was decided that Captain Roger's final day of protecting the President would be April 14th. Then the Secret Service would take over. The night of the 14th, the President and his wife were going to go to a musical entitled Our American Cousin at the theatre. Captain Rogers' final job would be to accompany the President to the show.

-------------------------------------------

It was the night of the musical. You were rushing around your and Steven's room trying to finish getting ready. You were wearing a blue gown, black shoes, and a pearl necklace and earrings. Steve came into the room to check on you.

"(Y/N), are you sure that you should go? I don't want you getting to anxious or excited." You turned to look at him wearing his brown suit that perfectly accented his eyes. You walked over to him and took his hands in yours.

"Steve, I'll be perfectly fine. Besides, I wouldn't want to miss your last night as the protector of President Abraham Lincoln, now would I? Who knows. Something big may happen tonight." Steve leaned down and gently kissed you. When he had pulled out of the kiss he stood there for a moment staring into your eyes.

"I certainly hope not." Sadly, Captain Rogers' hopes did not come true.

-----------------------------------------

It was midway through the show when the shots rang out. People started yelling and screaming from down in the audience. A crazed actor, John Wilkes Booth, had shot the President. You and Mrs. Lincoln sat clutching each other and sobbing. You looked up to try to find Steven. Many men had gathered around the President, but your husband wasn't one of them. Your husband had gone after the killer.

Running down the empty alleyway next to the theater, Steven could hear the taunting yells of the killer.

"I've killed him! I've killed the President!" The actor yelled as he ran through the streets. Steve was building up his speed as he ran faster and faster towards the direction of the voice. Then he finally saw the man running as fast as he could down the stone pathway of the street. Steve could tell that the man was running out of steam as he began to slow down slightly.

"When are you going to give up, Shield man? I've killed the man you were supposed to protect!" Booth then started to blindly shoot behind him. Steve held up his shield and deflected one of the stray bullets.

"I can do this all day." Was his only reply. He then threw his shield so that it hit the back of the man's head. He fell forward and crashed to the ground. Steve jogged up to him to check his pulse. Still beating, but faintly. Steve heard a noise behind him and turned to see two policemen.

"What happened to him?" asked one who was very tall and red headed. Steve stood up.

"I hit him in the back of the head with my shield. He's knocked out." They both nodded their heads. The second policeman, who was a short brunette, started to take down notes in a journal. "What is the situation back at the theater?"

"It doesn't look good, Captain. He's not expected to make it. I'm sorry." Said the red head. Steve looked down at the body of the killer. The two policemen picked him up between them and started down the alley towards the police office. Steve felt like a traitor. The President had died while he was supposed to be protecting him. He then remembered that you were still at the theater, and he ran back.

--------------------------------------

You were quietly sitting next to Mrs. Lincoln who was weeping the loss of her husband. You were staring at your hands when Steve finally came into the balcony. There was still a group of doctors and others gathered around the President. Steve came over to kneel by you. He looked as though he had been crying.

"Are you ok?" He asked you quietly. You nodded your head and swallowed.

"He wanted to know where you were a few minutes ago." You both looked over to the swarm of people. "He wanted you to know that he doesn't blame you for it. He doesn't want you to blame yourself either." Steve stood up and walked over to Mrs. Lincoln who still sat weeping.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry for your loss. I know that there isn't anything I can do to console you now, but I captured the shooter. He is in the custody of the police now. I'm so sorry that this happened to your husband. He was a great man, and I was proud to serve him." Steve bowed and walked back over to you. Just as he made it back over to you, you felt funny. Your eyes widened when you realized what had happened. Steve noticed that you looked surprised.

"What is it, Dear?" He asked anxiously.

"My water just broke." You said as calmly as you could. Steven practically jumped out of his skin. He was worn out from having chased the murderer, but then, all of that tiredness washed away as he was filled with the thought of soon being a father. He helped you up and down the stairs of the balcony. He then carried you the two blocks to the nearest hospital. His thoughts from earlier in the night of being a traitor were gone.

----------------------------------------

Many hours later, after a long and painful labor, you sat holding your beautiful baby daughter in your arms. She was asleep, the tiny fingers of her right hand curled around one if your own. Steve quietly walked into the room. He quietly stares down at the little bundle in your arms.

"It's a girl." You said to him. His face brightened, and he smiled cheerfully down at his little girl. "Would you like to hold her, Papa?" He smiled and nodded his head. He sat down on the bed next to you and took her carefully from your arms. He held her as though she was a fragile china doll. He looked down at her proudly and kissed the top of her head. He looked up at you.

"What are we going to name her?" You looked over at the baby then up at Steve.

"How about Sarah Grace Rogers?" His face lit up again.

"After my mother." He said quietly. You nodded your head and saw a small tear fall from Steve's eye. He looked at you again. "It's perfect, and she is too." He handed her back to you.

"How are you doing?" You asked him. When he had first come in, he had still looked grave from the night before. He sighed.

"As good as can be expected. The President is dead, but I now have a daughter. I feel as though it is bad that I am happy on a day like this, yet, I feel bad that I'm not giving my daughter the attention she deserves. I feel torn, (Y/N)." You shifted Sarah to your left arm and put your right hand on Steve's knee.

"What do you think that the President would have wanted you to do?" He took a deep breath.

"He would have wanted me to enjoy the day of my firstborn's birth." He gave you a weak smile.

"Then you'd better do what the President would have wanted." Steve leaned down and kissed you.

"I can't wait to go home." He said.

"Me either."

The End
----------------------------------------
2482 Words
----------------------------------------

I mean no disrespect for the assassination of Abraham Lincoln by writing this. The majority of this story is fiction.

I hope you enjoyed it! :)

{Originally posted and written in 2016}