The doctor at the VA claimed that he would only need to use the wooden replacement crutch for a few days, a week at most.

That had been three weeks ago.

Peggy had, unsurprisingly, been a saint through it all. She'd taken several days off to take him to the doctors. She'd help him around, chuckling at his stubborn refusal of using the replacement crutch. She'd been increasingly patient with his shortening fuse - pain wasn't known for improving moods.

Truthfully, it was Eva and Harvey who were getting the short end of the stick.

Both six year old Eva and four year old Harvey understood why their father used a crutch. Harvey had asked once if it was "because papa got tired." Daniel had smiled at his youngest, and explained that no, that wasn't why he needed the crutch. Harvey had been more than happy with that answer, but Daniel had decided that at four and two, his brilliant children would probably be able to understand the concept of a prosthetic. So, he had rolled up his pant leg and unstrapped the unwieldy wooden leg - something he had never done outside of the comfort of either his or his and Peggy's bedroom. The two had been fascinated by the clunky attachment. Peggy had entered the living room just in time to hear Harvey ask when he would get have one.

Daniel had gently pulled his son into a hug, pressing a kiss to his brown curls. "Hopefully never."

So both his daughter and son had noticed the difference as soon as Daniel had returned from his appointment.

It was Eva who asked "was something wrong, papa?"

"No, Tigger," Daniel had replied, using the nickname from his daughters favorite book. He had levered himself to his knee with his new crutch, before opening his arms for a hug.

His very serious daughter had ran into his embrace, throwing her arms tightly around his neck.

Now, both Eva and Harvey were cautious around their father.

Daniel had never been the type to yell at his children - he found that a tight lipped look worked just as well. But in the period since that appointment, he had been yelling at them more and more.

Daniel hoped he never had to feel the heartbreak that accompanied the quivering lower lip of his daughter again.

Eva had gone running into his and Peggy's bedroom nearly three hours earlier. His wife had been working on her hair and chatting animatedly with Harvey when Daniel had yelled at Eva - he'd heard that with the brief swinging open of the door.

Daniel had only heard the bedroom door open three or four times since then.

Pushing himself out of his armchair, Daniel limped over to the wall, using it in lieu of his wooden crutch - which he had, of course, left in the bedroom.

As he approached the shut door, he heard the sound of his two children giggling along with their mother. He almost thought twice about impeding on their fun, but he was intent on apologizing to his daughter.

Knocking lightly on the door, Daniel called, "is it alright if I come in?"

Instead of getting a verbal answer, he heard the patter of small feet against the carpet. The door was swung open, and before he knew it, he was being gently tugged to the bed by two messy, curly haired children.

"Papa, look!" Harvey exclaimed, gesturing with his free hand to the area next to Peggy on the bed.

There his crutch lay.

His previously dull brown crutch was covered in three colors: red, white, and blue. The parts painted by the different hands were noticeable - the part toward the bottom had the excited chaos that most of Harvey's art showed, while the top showed the deliberate strokes of a brush that Eva had recently begun using. The part in the middle had sweeping spirals of red and blue, with small white stars in the center of each.

"Do you like it, papa?" Eva asked, holding his hand slightly tighter.

"Like it? Tigger, I love it!" He exclaimed, taking the last few steps to the bed and sitting next to the piece of art. "It's beautiful..."

"Eva explained that you weren't feeling very well," Peggy said lightly. "As she put it, 'that's the only reason papa would yell!' So, she thought that maybe if you had some help from Captain America you would feel better."

"I thought that if we painted it red, white, and blue, Captain America would understand that you needed his help," Eva explained, still gripping her father's hand. "But then mama explained that you didn't really need his help because you can do anything. Well... she didn't say anything, but I could tell it was what she was thinking. After all, of course you can do anything! But, I still thought it might brighten up your crutch. So we decided to go ahead."

Daniel simply nodded, not trusting his voice. He gently patted the spot on the bed next to him, waiting as Eva crawled up.

"Eva," he started once his daughter was focused on him once again. "I'm so sorry that I yelled at you. I want you to know that I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at myself and at the doctor, and that's my own fault. I shouldn't have raised my voice to you. I hope you can forgive me, Tigger."

"Of course I forgive you, papa!" Eva exclaimed, all but rolling her eyes.

"Good," Daniel murmured. "Can I have a hug?"

Instead of replying, Eva through her arms around her father's neck. Daniel squeezed back briefly, before gesturing to his wife and son to join.

Daniel got back his usual crutch the next day. The doctor had smiled upon seeing the wooden crutch that had been meant as just a temporary. Instead of explaining to Daniel that he was supposed to give the crutch back, he simply gave the man the aluminum crutch and let him keep the red, white, and blue one.

Daniel never got rid of the crutch, and neither did Peggy. It sat in the hallway closet for years, usually taken out for the fourth of July and a handful of other holidays.

But, whenever Daniel needed to have his day brightened, he would look at the painted crutch and be unable to stop smiling for the rest of the day.