The Pursuit of Liberty

AN: Thanks for reading! Most of you are coming over from Doctor Patient Confidentiality, and for those of you that are, this is set eight months after that. To everyone else who hasn't read Doctor Patient Confidentiality: it's not necessary to read that. You'll just understand Cori better if you do.

I'll admit, I'm apprehensive about writing for Steve. He's wildly different than Bruce, and is largely a mega-gentleman. It'll be weird (this premise, itself, might be weird) but bear with me! The beginning might be slow, too.

Prologue: A Hairy Situation

"This is Officer Schwartz. We've got a situation on the corner of Ann and Bayard! Repeat, we've got a situation on the corner of Ann and Bayard!"

Pepper frowned as the latest episode of Sesame Street was cut off. In exchange for Fury giving Tony and Bruce "indefinite suspension" to raise their children, he demanded that they stay sharp by aiding the local community. Complying meant that Stark Tower received wiring to decode radio frequencies and patch the local police through in times of need. This, apparently, was one of those times. Sorrel and Julienne whined, sad to see the colorful puppets disappear to accommodate a glowing, spiking line mimicking the caller's volume.

"Describe the situation." demanded Steve, absently picking up an abandoned shake toy as he moved towards the TV. Julienne reached out for the bee-shaped toy, babbling at him. Steve stooped to deliver the toy, grinning slightly at the chubby face topped by hopelessly messy dark brown hair with streaks of auburn. Stark had to be in some kind of agony knowing his son liked him, but Steve couldn't think about that right now. People needed the Avengers, and he'd somehow been identified as their leader by the press.

He assumed it was because of the shield and suit, which screamed leadership because it resembled the American flag. Certain words, like 'leadership' and 'power' were subconsciously related to the color scheme. Because the color scheme was affixed to him, made for no one else to where but him, Steve accepted the role of leader. With Bruce and Cori raising Emery, and Stark juggling a company and twins, Steve was happy to oblige.

"It's the dognappers again. We have them caged in a warehouse, but they're returning heavy fire."

"What kind of fire?" asked Steve. With his shield, he was fine. He asked for the benefit of the other officers. Vibranium could deflect anything – it could in World War II, anyways – and he didn't want to redirect a lethal force onto others. Muffled gunshots could be heard through the TV; he watched the green line rise slightly to account for the noise.

"We're not sure. A small team stormed in, but they rushed out swollen and red."

"Sounds like some kind of medical terrorism." noted Bruce as he gently untangled Emery's hand from his hair and fixed his crooked glasses.

"In bullet form, maybe. This is under the assumption that it was caused by bullets. They could've made a device that disrupts the body's natural circulation patterns to the point where intense swelling is instantaneous." pointed out Tony as he moved to stroke his beard, picking a piece of crusted baby food out as he did so. Sorrel didn't really like keeping her hands to herself. If he'd found baby food in his hair, then Julienne would've been to blame for the crusted food.

"I don't know what it is!" admitted Schwartz. "I've called six ambulances. It's unsafe for my men to go in there. We need backup!"

"I'm on my way." Steve cut the communication, moving to get his uniform from a nearby room. It was a bit difficult, with one baby walker to bypass, a jumping swing, and Pepper sitting in the middle of the floor, but he managed it.

"Let me go with you." Coriander stood, tucking a bottle of dissolvable baby food puffs between the couch cushions in case Emery wanted more. He seemed pretty entertained, playing with Bruce's hair. She smiled briefly at the two. "I can dismantle tech if they have it in the building." she reminded, tapping under her left eye with two left-hand fingers.

Emery whined, unhappy with the idea. He stumbled forward, clutching the collar of Bruce's purple shirt in a death grip as he wobbled to his father's left leg. Being a week shy of nine months old, Emery didn't have the ability to walk. Following his mother was quite the task, and he let out a short gurgle of disapproval. Bruce gave Cori an encouraging wave, trying to distract Emery by shaking the snack bottle.

The cherubic little face scrunched at the sight of the rattling thing. Cori took a few more steps towards Steve, realizing her window of opportunity. Bruce was finally paying her back for staying up with Emery two nights ago when the Hulk was needed to disconnect a collection of crashed cars in upper Manhattan. Coriander almost made it into the hall, Steve leading the way, until she stepped on a malleable orange block that squeaked. Emery took his toothless mouth off the canister to survey the area.

Despite the mess of lose curls threatening to obscure his vision, Emery could tell his mother wasn't on the couch. He squawked angrily, gumming the snack lid a bit harder. Emery turned a pale green within seconds. Steve could hear the plastic snack can crinkling against the tiny fists. "Stay here with him. I'll be fine." assured Steve, flashing Coriander a thankful smile before she peeled away to return to her son.

Content to see both of his parents, Emery quieted instantly. Emery crawled carefully over to Coriander and sat in her lap. Bruce busied himself by trying to de-warp the snack container. He and Coriander decided that one parent would be home with Emery at all times – when possible – because Bruce knew what it was like not to have parents around. The scientist in him was beginning to think Emery had Hulk's natural ability to tell when people were or were not present, as no eight month old could be that aware, or experience distress for an extended amount of time like he tended to.

He was happiest with both parents around, though he smiled at everyone. Steve grinned slightly as he passed the couch, catching Emery's attention as well as Sorrel and Julienne's. Bright colors tended to do that. Especially the white. "Steve, are you sure I can't-?" began Cori.

"I'm sure." Steve cut her off. "Stay with Emery."

"But it's weird to send just one Avenger into battle. We're the Avengers, not Avenger!" she frowned. Coriander panicked when any one hero went solo, not just Steve. It was almost unnatural not to see the team together.

"I'm not just an Avenger," Steve teased, "I'm a captain, too."

Bruce chuckled, partly because of Steve, and partly because Emery tried to eat a fistful of Coriander's short hair. His bemused son found it impossible, and spent the next few minutes just watching her dark hair slip through his fingers. "Be careful, captain." Pepper instructed, freeing Julienne from the bouncing swing to set him on the ground with Sorrel. They immediately started for the small explosion of snacks Emery had unknowingly coaxed from the plastic container.

"Yes ma'am." Steve grinned brightly, unwavering under Pepper's light glare. She admired Steve's old-fashioned manners, but knew she'd told him not to call her that. Now that she had children, well…it made her feel old. He'd told her once that he called her 'ma'am' out of respect, and because of the fact she seemed to be the "mother" of the Avengers. Pepper kept the tower running, from the smallest of tasks to handling the groceries Thor needed to survive.

Though she liked the Avengers, Pepper didn't want to remember her job of looking after a top-secret group of people that liked to act like rowdy animals half the time. Clint, Thor, and Tony were usually to blame. Bruce and Steve were the buffer, but only somewhat effective against a Norse god, billionaire playboy, and expert marksman that could evade them like a bird. "Get going, soldier." She flashed him a lazy smile, a few freckles disappearing in the lines of her face. Steve gave her a small salute before heading out the door with his shield preparedly wrapped around his left arm.

"Buh-buh." whispered Julienne, testing out the word as he waved 'bye-bye' backwards, hand facing himself instead of outwards. Pepper giggled, chasing an unclaimed puff around with her finger. Julienne found the puff and managed to grab it before Sorrel. With a grunt of surprise, Sorrel sat on her bottom for a few minutes. There was no puff to chase after, and now she didn't know what to do.

Climbing across mom like a fallen log was fun and time consuming.

Steve was happy to find Ann and Bayard totally blocked off. That minimized the chance of civilians getting hurt in the crossfire. It also meant most of the men would go home to their families unscathed. The six ambulances Schwartz mentioned were nowhere to be seen; Steve could only assume they'd already removed the affected. Nine armed men stood defensively behind several police cars, guns firing through shattered windows. He held up his shield to deflect oncoming bullets, hoping the criminals could see his iconic weapon.

He hoped it made them run, too. If they did, they would likely drop their weapons and could be apprehended without incident. "What's the situation? I hear it's the dognappers again." Steve inquired of the closest officer, blue eyes taking in the loose border of police cars.

"It is." said the officer. "We've had confirmed sightings on the poodle from Queens, a mastiff from Yonkers, and a beagle from Harlem."

"How were the sightings made?"

"This warehouse is old. Outdated when you look at some of the others. Some neighborhood kids have been using it as their hideout. Took off running when they saw guys inside unloading noisy dogs and packing heat."

"Do we know how many are inside?"

"Six men. The number of dogs is unknown. Kids didn't get a good look."

"I'm going in." Steve decided. Holding his arm perpendicular to his body, he charged the warehouse. The wooden door gave easily, splitting open against his weight like a busting seam. Shots echoed in the medium-sized warehouse. His shield rumbled as it repelled the bullets.

Once his blue eyes could make out four of the six men, he threw his shield. Steve smirked happily, coolly, as his shield bounced off wood and metal. All four of the men fell to the ground. Some cursed the Avengers and some just moaned. Confident in his unusual genetics and returning shield, Steve advanced on the men curling in on themselves.

Each one had a different gun, he noticed. Steve kicked the nearest one away, not wanting to give the similarly dressed men a chance to retaliate. Every gun was small, but he could see several larger weapons at the back wall now that he was closer. The larger guns were generally bulbous with a narrow tip. Heavy damage with a precise shot, Steve thought. He grabbed the nearest man by the front of his black sweater, wondering if he was too concussed to talk.

The man he'd grabbed was bleeding, Steve could tell. Part of the mask was darker and wetter than the rest of his face. "Tell me about your operation!" commanded Steve. This hadn't been the first dognapping occurrence; it was the seventh in two months. He wasn't totally versed in modern crime, but knew this was a bizarre crime ring.

Show dogs were being stolen from their owners in all parts of New York, but were returned a few days later. Owners noted no real difference besides sluggish behavior and missing collars. Tony's initial theory of blackmailing the owners for money was debunked when the first batch was set free. Their safe return also shot down Bruce's theory of selling the dogs in the black market. It had the police scratching their heads, too.

This was their first real break in the cases. Steve was determined to get something for them. The man gurgled something unintelligible and Steve released him, reversing his crouch to analyze the area for the remaining two men. All gunfire had ceased, leaving him to wonder why. Had the other two made a run for it?

Not likely, he told himself as he crept around three of the cages to search for concealed pockets of space. The dogs were all suspiciously quiet, but breathing. He assumed they'd been drugged to keep from drawing more attention. Only two dogs had a collar on, which he found odd. It looked to be made out of leather, or some kind of black felt studded with little white gems.

Knowing it qualified as evidence, Steve used his shield to bust the cage's lock. He crouched down to weasel into the cage and remove it from the sleeping mastiff. Rogers grunted softly, unaware that the dog would be too much dead weight for one hand. After a few minutes of skittish checking for enemies and trial-and-error maneuvering, he'd found a way to hold onto his shield, free both hands, and put enough of his body into the cage to lift the dog and grab the collar. A biting pain set his right leg on fire, and Steve ripped himself out of the cage.

He ignored the fact that he cracked his head against the iron ceiling as he stood to face his attacker. It was one of the missing two men. In his hands was a longer gun, thinner than the ones he'd seen at the back. Steve growled at the man, slinging his shield out with a simple flex of his torso. The man was stunned, to say the least, since he'd been hit at such a close range.

Before his shield could come back, Steve felt three more pinches at his back. Clearly the last criminal was behind him. Glaring angrily, Steve rushed at him. Only the cowardly struck a man from behind. His plan was to punch the man in the jaw and send him flying right into the police's arms, but something was wrong.

Steve felt…woozy. Tired, like he'd trained all day without a break. He was close enough to brush the man's jaw with his knuckles, but found the action impossible. The man gave a laugh, planting his combat boot in his chest and kicking him over. "It was never about the dogs." revealed the man, "they're just our mules."

"Then what…what…what is this about?" demanded Steve slowly with his thickening tongue, rolling to his side. Something was wrong with his vision. His eyes traveled slowly from his arm, across the floor, and up to the man. The blue in his uniform was apparent, but he couldn't see the red.

"Liberty." chuckled the man, firing at Steve one last time. Steve could hear the gun click – much louder than before, which startled him – and tried to lift his shield defensively, but couldn't. It was too heavy. He was tired…so tired. Pain exploded in his upper chest; Steve unleashed a shallow hiss as he felt blindly for the object. A long needle led to a glass chamber half-full of white liquid.

He pulled an identical dart from his leg. Though his body moved slowly and heavily, Steve knew he needed to act fast. Something bad was in those darts and he still had three in his back. I have to get out of my uniform! Steve threw one glove down and pulled off the other as he kicked a boot away. His fingers numbed as he tried to unbuckle the chinstrap of his helmet.

It was too complex to undo with his foggy mind and clumsy fingers. He peeled off his suit before trying to tackle it again. Feeling his high metabolism fight the drug gave him hope. The muscle spasms and twinges of pain told him his body was recovering. Captain pressed his helmeted face to the floor, letting his body rest as the dizziness and pain fought for dominance within him.

The pain was inconvenient, but nothing he couldn't bear after the Super Soldier serum. Once the pain evaporated and the dizziness subsided, Steve stood. "Oh fuck." mumbled the guy who'd shot and walked passed him without a care. Steve growled, proud to see him so startled. Fueled by a culmination of instinct and determinism, Steve chased after the man.

Why do I feel low to the ground? Is it the distance? No…it couldn't be. Maybe my brain's still recovering.

The criminal unwittingly ran into the police cars sprinkled around the building. Alright, we got him! Yes! Steve cheered mentally, jumping up and down as the policeman wrestled the man into handcuffs.

"Bridges, watch out! Rogue dog!"

Steve yelped as the warning shot buried into the nearby concrete. He froze. The yelp hadn't come out human at all. Leaping towards the closest car, Steve stood on two legs to see the reflective window. I'm a dog! I've been turned into a dog! Steve wanted to scream, but a long yodeling howl came out instead.

What do I do? What do I do? I HAVE A TAIL! Steve quit pacing in circles once he noticed the slender thing above the area where his hind legs met his backside. It was long, ended in a tip, and was rigid with shock. Seeing his canine features explained a lot. He growled – at least that came out right, he thought – and wondered what to do. Nothing to cause them panic, that's for sure! He eyed the dark guns warily, knowing they were black despite the fact he saw them as a dark gray.

His ears were especially sensitive to the loud noise, and he'd wanted to run when he heard it. He didn't, though, because he knew the police would never hurt him. At least…they wouldn't if they knew it was him. Sure that the sight of his uniform would straighten things out, Steve ran back into the warehouse to retrieve a piece. Several police officers were already inside, collecting the wounded men and his uniform.

"Back off, dog!" snarled the man handling his uniform, catching a red glove that threatened to fall. Steve knew he shouldn't be mad with them, but growled in annoyance. His canine rumble wasn't appreciated, and the officer reached for his gun. Disappointed, Steve pointed his head to the floor and whined.

"Wait, no! Don't tell it to go. Look, it's wearing Captain's helmet!" said another. Steve perked up. Was he? He hadn't even registered the feel of it on his head as he raced after the man. There's hope! He thought, listening to his tail smack the ground as it wagged.

"Why does he have Captain's helmet?"

"Dunno." shrugged another.

"Maybe he got out and Cap put it on his head to protect him." said a third as he shouldered a semi-conscious guy and started towards the front door.

"Maybe." agreed the second.

"Regardless of what he's done, we need to keep the pieces together. We'll wait an hour. If Captain doesn't come back, then we'll give this to Stark."

I AM Captain! Steve thought exasperatedly.

"Sounds like a plan. Now…c'mere boy."

If they take this, I'll have nothing! Steve panicked, backing away from the man. He needed to keep the helmet until he figured out what to do. Someone would make the connection sooner or later…right?

"You moved too fast! Way to go, Freeman!" heard Steve as he tore out the ajar door and raced away from the scene. He doubted the police would abandon the area to find him, and allowed himself to relax once he hit the busy streets of Manhattan. Hunger assaulted him, courtesy of his accelerated metabolism. People scowled at him as they streamed past, comments ranging from 'Move, dog!' to 'You need to be on a leash!'. Their disapproving looks made him feel like he was standing before yet another man and being denied entrance into the army.

He gave a small whine at the thought, not liking the memories.

Steve separated from the busy streets by following the pavement leading to a restaurant. That was a mistake, he quickly learned. People flocked inside with their food, thinking he'd steal some (and he would, as dishonorable as it was), and drew the attention of a worker. At first glance two metal pans didn't seem intimidating, but Steve learned otherwise. His inner soldier was embarrassed as he bolted from the restaurant, startled by the resonating metallic bang chasing him.

When he tried a different restaurant two streets over, he lucked out. A child gave him some French fries and part of a hot dog bun before he got popped in the nose by the mother. Steve immediately backed off, aware that the women wanted him gone. If I listen, and they leave, maybe someone else will give me food! Steve's new tail wagged at the thought. An attendant caught wind of him after a few servers saw him lingering at an empty table, and Steve prepared to run.

Suddenly, "Here boy! C'mere boy!"

Steve's ears perked up. He didn't want to move his eyes from the woman with the broom, but he needed to know who called him. Her hair was gray, meaning it was a color his canine eyes couldn't decipher. She had visibly blue eyes and pale skin. Encouraged by her hands slapping against her knees, Steve trotted over.

At least his two extra feet were good for moving quickly and lightly. She scratched him under the chin, something Steve didn't think he would like. His leg began to kick against the ground; she giggled. I hate this new body! He growled, listening to the noise become a two-toned rumble. Rogers hated the newness, but really, really liked the scratching.

It was like a cold shower after a long workout. Actually, it carried the same kind of pleasantness that giving the irretrievable flag of seventeen years to his platoon leader brought.

"Is that your dog?" the young woman put a hand on her hip, her other wrapped around the broom. Steve looked up to the woman who'd returned to her seat. She hesitated for a moment, lips twitching in the beginning of a grin.

"Of course."

"Where's his leash?"

"It broke when we went for a run earlier." she lied. "I think he knows I eat here, though. Must've come to find me."

"I don't see you here that much." sniffed the employee. Steve ducked his head, hiding against her medium-length skirt. This is going to go bad, he feared. They were going to be found out, he'd have to run, and no one would know he was actually Captain America.

"Well, I don't always sit to eat. I'm beginning to remember why." smiled his savior coolly. Steve's head rose at her bold choice of words. The girl didn't have a drop of venom in her voice, but Steve could tell that last part wasn't meant kindly. He did a quick circle, putting himself at her left so he could see the other woman's face. Priceless, but well deserved. Steve straightened with pride and relief as the woman left them alone.

His fake owner was something to be proud of, after all. "Here you go." she pinched a piece of bread off and tossed it to him. Steve was surprised to find it taste like pumpkin. "You're a good boy." Steve bowed up at the center, allowing her to rake deep trails through his short fur. That felt good, too.

"Want to come home with me?"

Until I figure out what to do, yes. Steve raised an arm – paw, he corrected himself – to put thankfully on her leg. She was petite, shorter than his human self – even smaller sitting down – and probably wouldn't take kindly to him standing on two legs to put a paw on her shoulder. It might actually hurt her…or scare her. The last thing he wanted to do was scare off his fake owner.

If she left, he'd really be screwed.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." she laughed, tugging playfully on one blonde ear. Steve accepted several bits of pumpkin bread before another person came out to see them. He tucked himself between the girl's chair and the table in case this person intended to chase him off, too.

"Hi, sorry to disturb you. I'm the manager and I've come to understand that one of my workers may have touched a nerve. I came to apologize. To make up for the incident, can I offer you a coupon?"

"I'm not truly mad, but it's nice you came to sort things out. I'd like the coupon. You guys have really awesome pumpkin bread!" his fake owner laughed.

"Thank you." smiled the man Steve could only see in shades of gray. "May I have your name for the coupon? I sign them now to cut down on the fake ones. Believe it or not, those are growing in popularity."

"That's a shame. It means they want your food." she joked. "But, my name's Liberty, to answer your question." Steve's head snapped up at the name. He was sure one of the warehouse men said something about "liberty". If it was about this Liberty, or liberty in general, he couldn't be sure. It was still liberty, and still plucked his keen senses like a guitar string. You could be in trouble! We have to get you home! No time for food. Follow me! Steve darted forward a few paces, unhappy to see his fake owner still sat at the table.

Liberty and the manager were clearly amused by his sudden movement. Steve gave a low grumble of annoyance. He trotted back over to Liberty and placed his paw on her leg. She scratched his ears and the back of his neck as the manager scribbled down information. When he went back inside, and Steve had her full attention, he put his paw on her leg again.

This girl just wasn't getting it!

At least she knew he was enjoying the scratching. Steve felt like happy enough to melt into a puddle after the day he'd had. The manager came out with her coupon moments later. Finished with her pumpkin bread and milk, Liberty forked over eight dollars for the meal and lightly pinched a handful of the dog's fur between her fingers. She'd never been allowed to have dogs in her old home. To find one so well-behaved like this one was a gift. Her heart ached for his sad blue eyes. It was almost sin to leave him alone in the wake of that employee's wrath.

He seemed very relaxed. Trusting, at the very least. The restaurant, All about the Dough, was walking distance from her apartment on Sullivan Street. She was ready to get home after a long day of rehearsal and betted her newfound pup wanted downtime, too. Liberty thought the pup looked sad with his strangely blue eyes and the way he kept himself wrapped around her leg.

If she didn't know better, she'd say he'd just lost his friends. "C'mon, pup-pup." Liberty rubbed his side fondly, noting the half-hearted wag of his tail. Steve hesitated at the steps of her apartment building, noticing that it was upscale. Surely a place like this wouldn't allow dogs!

"C'mon, pup-pup!" called Liberty again, patting her legs. Steve reluctantly complied. "No one will chase you away here." promised Liberty as she ruffled his short hair. "My grandma owns the building." revealed Liberty as she opened the door for the dog and followed behind him. I should be opening the door for you, Steve frowned at himself.

He would, but paws made that hard.

She guided him to an elevator, glad to find it vacant, and chose the fifth floor. Steve counted the doors, grasping onto any remaining sense of humanity in his new body. Processing things as an intelligent human would keep the hysteria at bay. Keep his mind focused and ready to think through this new issue. Liberty lived in 518, and unlocked it for him.

Liberty's apartment was easily twice the size of his now-useless apartment. SHIELD gave it to him because they understood that not everyone wanted to live with Tony Stark. It was still available for when he needed to break away from the group, but stood largely abandoned. Probably dusty. Very unlike the posh room he'd just entered.

Her apartment had no sprawling glass windows to capture the whole city, but Steve didn't mind. He was grateful that she chose colors he could see! Liberty's home was furnished in white, blue, beige, and caramel. She had a décor that was fairly relaxed, something Steve appreciated after being surrounded by Stark's sometimes – often – unnecessary extravagance. The door opened into a white carpeted living room that connected to a kitchen at the right.

Across the living room – decorated with a sapphire blue couch, brown coffee table, and a few hanging pictures – was a thin hallway leading into darkness. Steve assumed her bedroom was in that direction. "We're home!" Liberty threw her hands out, not really expecting a reaction from the dog. She was rewarded with a long stare. The girl sighed and took her red hair down from the sloppy bun, running her fingers through the curls she'd inherited from her mother.

"Feel free to play…lay down…do whatever you want. Just don't eat my stuff." Liberty told the dog as she flopped onto the couch. It was nice to get off her feet after enduring hours of proper singing posture. Now that he was safe, in a place people wouldn't dare intrude to find him, Steve allowed the fatigue to seep into his bones. Today had been a long day, to say the least. He pried the helmet off his face at last and let it tumble to the floor, curling up beside it.

His new body was strange. The restrictions were even odder, and frustrated him. It was nearly as bad as being seventy years behind on the time. I could use a pick-me-up, Steve regretted to tell himself. Petting would have to do for now.

It went against his personal preference of learning about a woman first, but Steve let it slide. Liberty's hands were like magic across the back of his neck and left side. "You're a cutie!" she smiled, hand flowing up from his side to his ears as give one an affectionate rub. "I wonder if you have a name. Or if someone's looking for you. You kind of look like a Sampson to me."

Steve, he corrected reflexively. You're in the ballpark, though. Try again.

"Actually…you kind of remind me of my aunt's dog, Lucky. I think Lucky was a labrador, too. I don't know if you're a labrador, but you look like a labrador."

I'm an Avenger, actually. My name is Steve, not Lucky. I am lucky though; you saved me from that broom. Thank you. He snuggled his head against her hip and climbed higher into the space between her loosely curled arm and left side.

"I should give you a name that plays off your white coat." said Liberty, absently threading his left ear through her fingers.

Call me Steve.

"Judging by your…um…position on the couch, I can see that you're male." Liberty observed a bit awkwardly. It wasn't a habit of hers to note the gender of animals. She couldn't help but notice, though, because the dog was snuggled against her. His long, lean legs were partially tangled in hers. "What about Marshmallow? I can call you Marsh!"

Steve, he insisted. Because he couldn't communicate as a human in his current situation, he gave a low, disapproving hum.

"Casper, you know, like the ghost?" she received another deep blurt.

No, Steve. My name is Steve Rogers.

"What about Cotton?"

Don't worry about it right now. Steve gave another deep hum and rolled over slightly so she could pet his stomach. Just pet me.