CHAPTER 2

Steve was furious. The only sounds in the stairwell were his boots hitting the metal as he stomped up the stairs to his base of operations. The Captain didn't make mistakes. The Captain took care of his people. And all of that was blown to hell because of some stranger with the most infuriating smirk he had ever seen. He knew the rest of the team was following behind but he was stuck with a single-minded focus. If only it had been a raid gone wrong but this was a complete fucking disaster.

Bruce jumped to his feet as soon as the door was thrown open with a bang, "What happened? We weren't expecting you for another hour…." He took a wary step back at the look of pure fury on Steve's face. "Who's hurt?"

Steve tossed his head back towards the rest of the group, "Thor has some pretty serious burns and Bucky got clipped in the leg. Take care of them now. Everyone else with me."

"Steve c'mon," Bucky protested. "It was barely a scratch and Natasha already bandaged it."

"No," Steve shot him his no nonsense look. "You're going to let Bruce check you over and then we're all going to meet up in fifteen."

"Sure thing," Natasha stepped forward with a nod and started pulling Bucky after Bruce.

Steve turned away and took a few deep calming breaths and then decided that wasn't enough. He left everyone to his or her own devices and took the stairs down to the club below. It was fairly packed for this time of night but Steve was only focused on making it to the bar.

He clapped Dum-Dum on the shoulder as he passed; exchanging a few words about the going-ons of the night and then finally made it to the bar where Peggy and Darcy were mixing up drinks.

Peggy took notice of him first, pursing her signature red lips, as she looked him up and down. She said a few words to Darcy, who responded with a wave of her hand as she continued flirting with a customer, before she headed to his end of the bar, "What happened?"

Steve's shoulders finally dropped for the first time since they left the warehouse, "It was a total shit show."

She didn't say anything, just poured him a double and slid it across. Steve smiled bitterly and downed the whole thing in one go. Peggy waited patiently for him to continue, "Hydra was there like we thought but someone beat us to the punch. I don't even have the slightest idea who this guy was Peg but he'd practically taken down the entire warehouse before we got there. And he was wearing some kind of contraption that glowed blue and shot out…well something. I barely managed to get a warning out to the others before the whole place was exploding around us."

Peggy kept silent while he ranted, letting him blow off steam before she responded, "It's not your fault Steve." He allowed his head to drop and let the soft lilt of her British accent wash over him. "You did what you could. You got your people out and you're not going to give up. So go back upstairs and make a plan; you know what to do."

"Right…" He took another moment to collect himself before finally lifting his head up with a small smile. "Thanks Peg."

Her lips quirked up as she reached forward and squeezed his hand, "Anytime."

This is what he loved about her; Peggy Carter was a straightforward and passionate woman. She never let him get away with something stupid and called him out on all of his crap. She was one of the only people he trusted enough to confide in.

"Catch you later Cap!" Darcy called out as Steve walked away. He shot her a wave over his shoulder reassuming his role as hardened mob boss but privately his smile did grow a bit bigger after that.

Feeling refreshed and determined after his talk with Peggy, the first thing he did was track down his sketchbook and charcoals. He needed to find out who the guy with the glowing hands was. He clearly wasn't with Hydra but beyond that, they knew next to nothing and Steve didn't like open variables; especially ones that could throw a wrench in his plans.

He must've lost track of time when Bucky knocked on the door, "C'mon Steve, everyone's waiting."

Steve stared at him in surprise, "Oh uh right. How's Thor?"

Bucky leaned up against the doorway, casually crossing his arms, showing off his metal one, "You know Thor? He has to be on the verge of death to act like anything other than a Viking." Steve snorted and shared a look with Bucky. "But the doc fixed him up and he's got Jane hovering over him right now so he's doing pretty good."

"Alright good," Steve felt a huge weight lift off his shoulder at the news. Everyone here was family. If one person was hurt, they all felt it. "I'll be right there."

"Okay," Bucky mock saluted him and left. Steve watched him go and noted he was lacking a limp which was another weight off his shoulders.

Steve turned back to stare down at the picture in his hands. He took a moment to simply study it. The face staring back was just like he remembered: handsome lines that made him look so young despite the goatee carefully guarding the hardened interior. Then there were the eyes. His drawing failed to express the bright intelligence that shined through the dark brown depths. He remembered clearly how they seemed to stare right through him. Steve had an artist's eye. The man was attractive and the man knew it. Steve had realized the same thing back in the warehouse. He also couldn't help but be impressed by him either. He was skilled and intelligent. Even when he was trying to charm Steve, he never lost focus.

Steve shook off the memories of that lithe body pressed against his, buzzing with a coiled inner strength. Now was not the time. Everyone was gathered in the small communal room they used for briefings and meals. As soon as Steve entered the room, they all drew to attention.

When it was just he and Bucky trying to survive the orphanage, he never thought he'd have anyone depending on him. Most of the time it was Bucky taking care of him, pulling him out of fights and working extra to pay for doctors. And when Bucky enlisted, Steve worked tirelessly to be able to join him. Before he knew it, he was leading his own team.

Then Bucky got injured and Steve followed him back to the States. They were struggling to find their place back in the civilian world when all of a sudden they were collecting one stray after another until they had a whole ragtag group relying on him as they worked to keep their neighborhood safe. It still blew him away that these people had such trust in him.

"So what's the deal Cap?" Clint asked, slumped down in his chair with his arms crossed. He was trying to come off as nonchalant but Steve could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Simply put? We were late to the game," Steve stood in front, his eyes meeting each and every one of them. "I came across someone who was wearing some complicated pieces of tech I'd never seen before. He was the one in charge of the explosions."

"He knew what he was doing," Natasha interjected in her cool strictly analytical tone. For as long as Steve's known her, Natasha Romanov was never anything but professional and focused when there was a job to be done. She was proficient, skilled, and deadly. Steve owed her his life several times over. "I counted only three charges but they were strategically placed to cause the most damage."

"So it's possible they're another enemy of Hydra's that we just haven't come across before," Sam mused, always the optimist and voice of reason for the group.

"Yeah but we can't exactly let them run around screwing with our plans," Clint pointed out. "We've been working on this for months."

"So we track them down," Bucky reasoned with a shrug. Clint opened his mouth to argue when Steve intervened.

"Exactly," Steve agreed and then held up his sketch. "This is the man from the warehouse. I want everyone going to ground and seeing what they can come up with."

"I have some favors I can call in," Natasha announced, striding out of the room without a word from anyone, phone already in hand.

"Clint, talk to Coulson when he gets back. I want to know if this guy is on the police's radar," Steve instructed.

"Right away boss," Clint snatched up the drawing and practically bounced his way out of the room.

"Bruce," Steve waited until the man looked up from the tablet he was scribbling on. "Pass the information onto Jane if you could. See if she can hack into security cameras in the area. I saw him heading north so have her check the subway terminals."

"Sure thing Steve," Bruce gathered up his notes and left.

Bruce was relatively new to the team. Steve saved him from an army general who was trying to ban all of his research and framed him for stealing grant money, all because Bruce was dating his daughter.

Steve and Natasha were able to make some of the false evidence disappear but still no university would touch him. Steve helped him get supplies to run his experiments and in return, Bruce helped patch up the group from time to time.

"Sam, Buck," Steve stopped the two from leaving. "Natasha, Clint, and Coulson should have this under control. We can't afford to lose any ground with Hydra. Take Dum-Dum and his boys and go on patrol, check some of their hotspots and make the regular rounds. Call in Sif and the Warriors Three if you need backup."

Buck studied his face closely and then sighed, clapping Steve on the shoulder, "Don't worry punk, we'll figure this out."

"Thanks. Now get out of here," Bucky snorted and shook his head. "Sam, make sure he eats will ya?"

"Will do Cap," Sam promised. "I don't want Natasha coming after me."

"Oh shut up," Bucky swiped at his shoulder but Sam dodged with a laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes as he watched them leave with a fond smile. Once he was left to his own devices he made his way up to the roof. He needed his own time to think. There was too much going on for him to be able to focus on patrols, even though he usually enjoyed them but he trusted Sam and Bucky. They could get the job done.

He kept a special spot on the roof for times like these. It wasn't much, just a lawn chair, a spare blanket, and the best view of the city around. Steve often found himself up there drawing for hours, sorting through his thoughts and just giving himself the chance to breathe without all the pressures of his job breathing down his neck.

His time in the Army definitely took its toll. He'd wake up in the middle night in a cold sweat to the sounds of machine guns or he'd be out on patrol with Bucky but instead of dealing with common criminals it was like dealing with the terrorists who were torturing his best friend all over again. Steve was so frustrated with how often he'd get lost in his mind, stuck in another time or place, struggling to keep up with the real world.

It's how he came across Sam Wilson. He was a PTSD counselor and ex-paratrooper who had set up a clinic by some of the homeless shelters to help get vets back on their feet. But then a few developers trying to get the rights to the buildings in that area, hired someone to break in and completely trash the place. Sam didn't have the money to rebuild and was forced to terminate his lease. Steve heard and took him in and let him use the gym they owned next door to keep his meetings going. And if Steve could be found sitting in the back every now and again no one said anything about it.

The flashbacks had become less frequent and slowly, with Sam's help, Steve was finding himself again. He knew that the rest of the team sought out Sam on occasion and every time he heard Natasha laugh more easily or watch Clint willingly climb down from the vents; Steve knew that Sam Wilson was always meant to become part their family.

Eventually Steve got lost in the sounds of his city, the one he was born and raised in, and the one he was always fighting to protect. It was just him, the stars, and the steady hum of noise that never went away no matter the time of day. It was home. And it never ceased to soothe his troubled heart.

When he was here, he was free. He didn't have to be constantly put together, be the Captain everyone expected him to be. He could focus on everything that got stuck in Steve Rogers' mind. He could get lost in the fading memories of his mother or reminisce about all the trouble that he and Bucky used to get into. He could spend time re-evaluating his morals and what he was doing. Sometimes he'd come up here when he was too ashamed to be around everyone else. All he wanted to do was protect the people he loved and keep the community safe. Sometimes that was as easy as lending some money to those who needed it. Other times it meant going dark, and doing whatever it took to stop those who wished to do harm on his turf.

It wasn't an easy life, being the Captain of the Howling Commandos and the just-a-kid-from-Brooklyn Steve Rogers but he managed.

By the time he came back to himself, Natasha was sitting in the spare chair beside him, content to stare up at the stars in silence. He wasn't surprised that she'd snuck up on him. Natasha had a way of making herself disappear when she didn't want to be found.

Natasha came to them as a packaged deal with Clint. He didn't know much about her past, which was probably the way she wanted it to be. All he knew was that she once danced in the Russian Ballet while being used as a pawn by her government and then she came across Clint and they were inseparable ever since. If any one asked about it the two would glance at each other and answer in complete unison, "Budapest."

"So…this is about more than Hydra," She stated, gesturing to the sketchpad still sitting in his lap.

Steve glanced down and was surprised by the drawing in front of him. He'd drawn another picture of the stranger from the warehouse. This time he had drawn out that aggravating smirk, offset by his perfectly trimmed goatee, like he knew something that Steve didn't. At the time it infuriated him but now, as he studied his own drawing, there was something almost endearing about it.

"Not really," Steve answered, running a finger along the outline of the man's jaw, smudging the charcoal. "Have you found anything?"

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow but she let the matter drop scoffing, "Of course I did. But I'm waiting for Coulson to confirm it."

"Alright," Steve trusted Natasha. She had a talent for information. If there were something she thought important to know, she'd tell him.

They sat in silence content to settle in each other's company. Natasha was the one who unexpectedly broke it, "You have to sleep Steve."

He let out a slow sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, "Is everyone back yet?"

She shot him an unimpressed look; she clearly saw through and was insulted by his attempt to change the subject, "Sam and Bucky are still out. Clint went home with Coulson. Peggy's already closed up downstairs. And Thor is cuddled up with Jane in medical."

"Someone needs to be up and ready in cas-"

Natasha cut him off, "Get some sleep Steve. I'll keep watch."

"I can't…." He admitted in a whisper. Natasha was silent but it wasn't judgmental. She had more demons than anyone. "We were so close Nat…"

She took a deep breath and thought over her words carefully, "I know."

"They're getting bolder, finding more allies and putting more politicians under their thumb," He continued. "They're too connected for the police to handle and eventually they'll have the entire city in the palm of their hands. We've seen how they work, what they're capable of and we can't…"

He was breathing heavily by the end of his speech and he was ashamed to feel so helpless but Natasha allowed him to talk it out, lending an ear without any strings attached. She understood just as well as he did what it was like having to be two people. She saw both Steve and the Captain just like he saw both Natasha and the Black Widow.

"Alright," Natasha stood and nudged him in the shoulder. "Let's go spar and then you're going to bed. Understood?"

He stared up at her with a relieved smile, "Thanks Nat."

She brushed him off and gestured for him to follow, "Anytime." Steve thought that was it but then she turned to look at him over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye, "And Steve? We'll find your boy. Maybe then I won't catch you mooning over drawings."

She left him blushing in her wake. Steve shook his head and followed and decided that he wasn't going to grace that with a response. Hydra was what mattered; that and having his family by his side.