STEVE ROGERS SAT ON THE STEPS OF THE BUILDING, WATCHING AS THE BOYS PLAYED BASEBALL IN THE STREETS. HE WASN'T SURE OF THE RULES, BUT HE HAD A FEELING THAT MOST WEREN'T EITHER. They mostly shouted at each other and threw the ball, the batter always being careful not to hit it too far away, lest it crash into someone's window or into a car. Steve wasn't allowed to play with them, he shouldn't have even been outside. But he wanted to watch, so he went out.

He watched as the boy went up to bat. He didn't know the boy's name, but he had always loved watching him. He moved with a sense of pride, holding his head up high, his back straight. He seemed to swagger up to the makeshift plate as he took his position. He lazily hit the ball and started to run, laughing as the boys shouted, trying to get him out.

Steve watched in awe as he ran, his body swift and agile. He was so fast that he took the time to stop and mock the other boys, posing and making faces, before rushing off to another base, nowhere near getting out. He jogged towards home, finishing with a proud grin.

He sighed and motioned for the game to continue without him, making his way towards the sidewalk, grabbing one of the various soda bottles and taking a swig. Steve watched as he opened it with ease, taking a long sip.

The boy turned around, feeling someone was watching him, and caught sight of Steve. The latter immediately looked down at his feet, afraid of what would happen now that he was caught. He closed his eyes as a shadow fell over his small frame.

"You want a sip?"

○ ○ ○

Steve woke with a start, his alarm clock blaring. He reached over and turned it off before staring up at the ceiling, trying to chase the remnants of his dream. He couldn't remember any of it. He sighed and reached up to rub his face, stopping when he felt moistness on his cheeks.

He didn't remember crying. He wasn't surprised, though. There was a time when, more often than not, he would cry himself to sleep, plagued with memories and terrors, awake or asleep.

He sighed and reached over, picking up the phone that Sam had helped him get before he moved back to D.C. He raised an eyebrow when he found a flurry of notifications popping up on the small screen.

Two texts and a missed call from Sam, three texts from Tony, two texts from Wanda, and one text from Clint. He decided to tackle them all backwards, starting with Clint and ending with Sam, especially since he was going to have to call him back.

The text from Clint was standard, something that he had almost been expecting. Every few days or so, ever since they had come out of their more extensive hiding, Clint had offered Steve a place to stay at his farm. Wanda was staying there as well and if he ever needed to find someplace else, the farm was always open.

Steve sent his regular response of gratitude, but declined the offer, letting his former teammate know that he would keep it in mind.

The two from Wanda were regular check-ins on how he was doing, asking if he was still alright and if he was still safe and comfortable at his job. He smiled and let her know that, yes, he was doing alright and asked the same of her.

He waited a few minutes before he checked the texts from Tony. Overtime, the two had returned to amicable acquaintances, Tony being the one to let Steve and the others know when it was safe to return. He was also the one to help both him and Sam in the effort to find Steve a job and an apartment in Brooklyn, something Steve always said he could never afford.

The texts weren't anything shocking—they almost never were—just him checking up and asking if he still couldn't persuade Steve into accepting a better phone than the burner that he had been using for so long. He also asked how the job and apartment were treating him and if he needed something better.

He replied quickly, thanking Tony for what he had done already and telling him that, no, he didn't need anything more, nor was he ready to accept anything drastic like a better phone just yet.

He didn't bother reading Sam's texts and just went straight into calling him back; he could let Steve know what he had sent if it was that important.

Sam picked up after the third ring. "You need to go outside."

Steve climbed out of bed, walking towards his kitchen area. "Good morning, how was your night?"

He could hear Sam rolling his eyes on the other end. "I'm telling you, Steve, you need to get out. Not just for work, but for, you know, pleasure. Go out for a run, what happened to that?"

Steve sighed. "I didn't have to worry about getting caught before, Sam. Remember, to a certain extent, we're still on the run."

"The public's forgotten all about that," Sam argued, "And it's not as if they're actively searching for us. They're not, they have other things to worry about. Just try and go for a run. Central Park, you'll love it."

"I've been before," Steve said, pouring himself some orange juice, "I'm not that old, Sam."

Sam laughed on the other end. "I'll talk to you later, Steve. Go out. Breathe some actual air. You can still live your life."

"Thanks, Sam. Stay safe." The line clicked dead and Steve set his phone down on the counter, turning to look around.

He had to admit, this apartment was worlds better than what it had been before, way back when he lived with his mother. This was a studio apartment, one room, but it was enough to fit a bed, a sofa, and a fridge, so he had nothing to complain about. Despite his insistence, Sam and Tony bought him a TV, telling him that he had to keep up with the times some way, newspapers barely existed anymore.

At the thought of his friends, Steve sighed, looking towards the door leading out into the hall and into the real world. The world that he had, for some time, been a part of. Ever since Germany, it was as if he was fresh out of the ice again, everything foreign and scary and new.

He looked out the window by the head of the bed, squinting at the sun that peeked through the blinds. He should go outside. It would be good to go for a run again, he hadn't been out on one in a while.

After changing into a pair of jogging pants and another shirt, he headed out, barely remembering to grab his keys, Metro card, and phone on the way to the door. He still had to get used to living alone again.

He hopped on a train, hoping that he didn't draw too much attention to himself. He held onto one of the railings, avoiding eye contact with any of the other passengers. He saw some of them fiddling with their phones and he glanced down at his own burner cell; maybe he would take up Tony's offer, it would make public transportation easier.

After nearly an hour of standing around, they finally reached his stop. He climbed out with all the other passengers, following the crowd up the exit stairs and out into the busy sidewalks.

He looked around, trying to remember which way Central Park was. It had been a while. He started to walk, looking around at the various buildings and street signs, remembering how he had felt the day he had woken up from the ice.

He continued to walk, slowly wishing that he had a phone that he could use for GPS; Tony had taught him how to use a more modern one back when they were all still on good terms.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, he found his way into the park. He had to stop for a few moments, just before going in, needing to prepare himself. It had been a while since he had been able to go for his usual jogs again. He missed having Sam with him as a workout partner.

After taking enough time to get used to the change, he began to run. He started at an easy pace as he always did, not wanting to exert too much effort when still getting back into the groove. He avoided eye contact with most, happy to just appreciate the scenery around him, dodging couples and families and other joggers whom he easily passed.

He had been running for a while when he stumbled upon a few baseball diamonds. Normally, he wouldn't have spared them another glance, but the shrieks stopped him. He was about to break into a sprint to help, his heart jolting, only to realize they were of laughter.

"Run, Leo, run!"

Steve raised an eyebrow and slowed to a walk, eyes on a particular game. No one seemed to be following any sort of rules other than the generic 'run when you hit' rules, all of the kids laughing and shouting. Among the kids was a man, about Steve's age, with blond hair and glasses. He didn't seem dressed to be playing the game.

"Hey!" the man shouted, looking past Steve. He turned and saw a little girl sitting on one of the benches, looking particularly dejected.

He stepped to the side as the man ran past him, mumbling a quick 'excuse me' before coming up to her, crouching down and staying a good few feet away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "Why're you all alone?"

She glanced at him nervously and shrugged. Stranger danger. Steve eyed the man warily, unsure if he should tell him to back off.

"Would you like to join our baseball game?" he asked, motioning towards the group of children all playing.

"I'm not good at baseball," she mumbled, still not looking at him.

"A lot of us aren't," he said, "We're not a team or anything, we just started playing."

"Why?" she asked, "How? At school, we have to break into teams and everyone picks people. No one really picks me."

Steve huffed a soft laugh to himself. He could sympathize with that.

"Well, you know what?" the man said, "All of us playing were last to be picked too. All of these kids were sitting here looking all sad like you and I don't like that. I don't like kids being sad because I'm old and only I get to be sad."

She laughed quickly, finally looking at him. He smiled at her, then glanced towards the game where the other kids were calling for him to come back.

"Would you like to join?" he asked, "My name is Rhett, by the way, I'm a teacher at Brooklyn Elementary."

The girl looked around before turning back to him. "You're a teacher?"

He nodded and pulled out his wallet, showing her an ID. "My name is Rhett Reiser. Where's your parent?"

"My mom left me here for a bit," the girl explained, "She said she was coming back, but I don't know when."

Rhett frowned loudly, glancing towards Steve, the two of them sharing a look. "Well, until she gets back, it's best if you stay in a large crowd. Even if you don't play, just stay where someone will notice you, okay?"

"Okay," she said, hopping down and letting him lead her towards the baseball diamond. She waved towards Steve quickly. "You're a teacher, right? I like my teachers and dad said I should trust them. My name's Emily."

"Nice to meet you, Emily," Rhett said, his voice muffled now that he was moving away from Steve, "Would you like to bat?"

Steve would have run off. He wasn't fully trusting of this Rhett man quite yet—he wanted to make sure Emily was getting home safe—but he felt secure enough to be left alone. However, there was something that made him stay. It took him a moment to realize it, but he found it in the way Emily's face began to light up as she went up to bat.

If someone had approached him like that when he was younger, it might have made his entire year. Always stuck to the sidelines, being brought in for a game with the promise of no one making fun of him or messing with him would have changed his life.

He wanted to witness something he always wanted.

He moved to lean against one of the lamp posts, watching idly. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to relax; he felt tense so he probably looked the part as well.

The game continued in no particular order, Rhett coaching both sides and keeping the peace. He was part of the game as well, standing in the back of the line, letting the kids go in front of him if they wanted. He often cleaned his glasses on his button up shirt, letting some of the kids try them on.

When he went up to bat, Steve was floored.

He moved with a sense of easy pride, clearly in his element. There was an easy swagger in his step, exaggerated as he was playing with younger kids. He made a few faces, jogging slowly so that they could catch him if they managed to grab the ball, reaching down to touch the base with his hand instead of just his foot, ruffling the hair of whatever kid was guarding the base.

There was something so familiar about the way he held himself, the smile on his face.

He continued to watch for a few more rounds, ready to leave just as Rhett took a break. He watched as he picked up a water bottle, taking a few sips. When he caught a few of the kids watching, he crossed his eyes before unscrewing the black lid and pouring half the bottle onto his head, causing all of them to descend into uncontrollable giggles.

Steve laughed as well, shocked by how far the man would go to make kids smile. His own smile dropped as the man turned to look at him, having heard his laugh.

He ducked his head and continued to run, not looking at the man as he passed. He didn't want to be recognized and he definitely didn't want a fight.

"Hey!"

He froze and took a deep breath. He shouldn't have stayed. He slowly turned around to look at the man, hoping he wouldn't be recognized.

Rhett smiled and held out his water bottle, shaking it slightly.

"Want a sip?"

He stared at him a few moments, blinking. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"A sip," the man repeated, moving to get closer to him, stopping when Steve took an involuntary step back, "I don't see you with a water bottle, figured you might wanna stay hydrated. No need to collapse."

"Oh," Steve said softly, "I-I'm okay. Thank you."

"Aw, c'mon," Rhett said, pushing up his glasses, "Don't wanna be have you passing out from dehydration on my conscience."

Steve, unable to say no a second time, relented and took the bottle from his, savoring the cool liquid traveling down his throat. He sighed contently and gave the other man a grateful smile, handing it back.

"Thank you," he said, moving to continue running.

"Of course," the other man replied, "Take care, yeah?"

Steve nodded silently and turned and continued to run, the baseball team still fresh on his mind. He considered telling the story to Sam in a last ditch effort to get the man to stop worrying about him so much.

Unbeknownst to him, Rhett didn't immediately go back to the game with the kids. Instead, he made his way towards his phone which was in his satchel and dialed the first number in his emergency contact.

"Hello?" a groggy voice greeted, clearly having just woken up.

"Nicky," Rhett breathed, his heart now finally beginning to race, "I think I just saw Captain America."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 08.26.17 )

So here we are! The first chapter of Rhett's story and I am so excited because I love Rhett so much.

I don't have much to say either than I hope I wrote Steve okay. Also if I ever get something about his past wrong, please tell me (politely) because I don't wanna get something wrong about it, you know?

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!