My appreciation to all the readers who've put this story on their favorites and alerts list, and also the readers who posted reviews, including FinallyFallingAllOverAgain, GhibliGirl91, AoiKuroNekoSan, Penny Tortoiseshell, LEPrecon, tardiswing, Arrows the Wolf, Katya Jade, and blown-transistor.

For those who asked about the pink post-it note with the –P-, if you saw Iron Man I, that was how Pepper signed the note on the Mach 1 arc reactor with the stand that said 'proof that Tony Stark has a heart.'

Thanks for reading…

X

Chapter 21

"Pankration," Bernice read aloud. The sign looked newly painted, a dark-brown-and-gold logo that looked like two Olympiads wrestling on one side of the sign, the same two figures engaged in martial arts kicking on the other. She glanced at the pink post-it note and confirmed it was the correct address. The ancient door and windows appeared to be real glass, not Plexiglas like most store fronts in the area. White café-style curtains blocked the goings-on inside from casual view, but could be overlooked by standing on tiptoe. The sidewalk was cracked and stained, but the building had a neatness about it that contrasted with the rough neighborhood. She pushed through the door, a small bell chiming her arrival.

The sound of grunts and laughter greeted her ears as soon as she stepped inside, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the change of lighting. Two men exchanged punches in a boxing ring. Others engaged in fitness activities involving gym equipment and weights. The old-fashioned kind. Not the fancy Nautilus equipment Bernice used at the Stark Industries fitness center. The floor was rubber tile, long past its useful life, but the walls and ceiling had been freshly painted. On the far wall, a partially completed mural depicted the same two ancient Greek Olympiads on the sign outside, a drop cloth and ladder propped to one side as though the artist would come back and finish the work soon. The entire gym smelled of paint, sweat and disenfectant.

Laughter caught her attention. At the rear of the gym, a group of teenagers ribbed a skinny Hispanic kid wearing DDP (Dominicans Don't Play) gang colors hanging off a pair of rings suspended from the ceiling. Beneath him, a second boy wearing rival Asian Boyz blue gang colors steadied the kid as he dangled, trying to pull himself up.

"C'mon, Lupe!" half the kids said. "You can do it!"

"Get that scrawny 'spic ass of yours up on them rings," the other half hooted.

Bernice noted it was the supposedly 'rival' gang which was cheering the skinny kid on. The kids wearing the athlete's own gang colors were the ones ribbing him, but the ribbing appeared to be good-natured.

"Can I help you, miss?"

An elderly Hispanic man squinted at her with an enormous grin. Several teeth were missing in the front of his mouth. The man was small, but wiry, with the knobby knuckles and elbows you might see in somebody who had done hard physical labor their entire lives.

"I'm looking for Steve Rogers," Bernice said. "I'm a … friend."

"Ah," the old man said, his grin growing wider. "Didn't think you were here to sign up. We don't get too many ladies in this place." The old man pointed to the gang kids who had caught Bernice's interest. "He's over there."

Bernice ignored the curious stares. Most of the men who worked out here appeared to be prize fighters who were long past their prime. She moved towards the group of boys, noting the kid on the rings had pulled himself up and raised his feet to balance level with his waist. Both groups of boys cheered and the skinny kid dropped to the ground. It struck her how much the boys mannerisms and colorful clothing reminded her of a flock of exotic birds. She adjusted the bag she carried slung over one shoulder, wishing fervently she'd brought her own sketch pad to capture the images on paper.

"See? All it takes is determination and lots of practice," a voice called over the cacophony. Steve's voice. "Eight hundred and eighty-eight times it takes for the average person to master a new physical skill."

"Some of us take more," the skinny kid, Lupe, said.

"If it takes more, it takes more," Steve's voice said. "What's important is that you never give up."

"Steve, Steve!" the boys clamored. "You do it."

"Yeah, Steve!" one of the older men in the ring shouted across the room, spitting out his mouth guard. "Put your money where your mouth is, hotshot! Let's see you do it!"

The older men laughed, in on some inside joke. Bernice hung back, not wishing to interrupt whatever class Steve was teaching.

"How can I refuse?" Steve's voice called from the throng. "Boys. You'd better give me some room."

The boys stepped back, giving Bernice a glimpse as he stepped onto the stack of mats, his back turned to her. He leaped to grab the rings and pushed them out to the side in a pose reminiscent of a crucifixion statue, triceps bulging as he held his own body weight using nothing but the muscles in his arms.

"Iron cross!" one of the boys yelled.

"Show Lupe how the L-sit is supposed to be done!" several of the boys shouted.

His back muscles rippled like a stallion running a race as he pulled the rings closer to push his torso up, his form more steady and perfect than any Olympic gymnast Bernice had ever seen on the television. His legs came up in a perfect 45 degree angle, the move the skinny kid had tried a moment before, and held the pose, and then moved his legs even further up, as though he were a vice, to touch his ankles to his nose.

"Aw, man!" the kid in the Asian Boyz color shouted. "That's too easy for you! Show us what you've really got!"

"Guzochy!"

"O'Neill!"

"No … Deltchev!"

"Deltchev! Deltchev!"

Bernice had no idea what the boys shouted out, but she stared, memorizing the way his muscles rippled as they forced his body to assume each pose so she could draw it later. Steve hung horizontal to the ground, as though her were about to do a push-up, and slowly moved both feet together backwards to rear up into a reverse handstand. He held the pose, then swung around faster several times, then moved his legs into a straddle to touch his ankles to his wrists, holding the pose while the boys cheered.

"Nakayama!"

"No … Balandin. Steve. Do a Balandin!"

Shit! Bernice didn't even know guys could be that flexible. She couldn't help but notice the firm shape of his ass, the way his muscles rippled beneath his sweatpants as he held, then released the pose, swung around, then moved back into the position that was parallel to the floor. Bernice forgot to breath as he held a position that defied gravity, as though he were floating weightlessly above the floor in a relaxing nap. He then moved both legs backwards up into a handstand, giving her a marvelous upside-down view of six-pack abdominals clearly visible through the sweaty wifebeater plastered to his chest. What struck her was not how difficult the moves he did must be, but the expression of utter peace upon his face as he held the pose.

"Van Gelder!"

"No … Jovetech!"

"Jovetech! Jovetech! Jovetech!" the boys began to chant. Behind her, the older men had stopped what they were doing and were chanting as well.

Steve suspended himself between the rings parallel to the floor as though laying on a board, did several push-ups mid-air, then moved his legs back up behind him again into the handstand. He lowered himself, still upside-down, all the way down so his arms were pressed tightly along his ribcage, his shoulders below the rings, then forced out the rings so his arms were parallel in an upside-down iron cross. He then forced his perfectly stiff form up even further back into the handstand.

"Jovetech!" the boys cheered. Even the older men cheered, many of them dropping their weights so they could clap.

Steve released the pose, swung around the rings several times so fast he was nothing but a blur, and then let go of the rings, somersaulting three times mid-air before landing upon the mats as lightly as a cat. Bernice realized that she was panting heavier than Steve was! She held her breath, her face flushed as she tried to convince her heart to stop racing.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you any sport is for sissies," Steve said, oblivious to Bernice's presence. He high-fived the boys, some of whom had boxing gloves and head guards. "All that matters is you give it your best shot. Lupe … good job! I'll see you all next Saturday."

"You gonna be here?" the skinny Hispanic kid, Lupe, asked.

"You know how it is," Steve said, bumping fists with the kid. "Work. If the bossman calls, I've got to go running. But if I'm not here, Rodriguez will give you sparring lessons. Don't let his age fool you. He's still the fastest welterweight in Brooklyn."

The boys trailed out of the gym, leaving Steve standing on the pile of mats. He looked up, meeting Bernice's gaze, and froze. A puzzled expression danced across his face. Surprise. Hope. Disappointment. Her heart fell as he donned that serious expression she was used to seeing him wear and leaned down to grab a towel, muscles rippling beneath glistening skin as he wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Bernice," Steve said, wiping sweat off his hand as he stepped forward to greet her. "This is a surprise."

"I … um …" Bernice stammered, trying to force herself not to pant like a dog in heat. Crap. Crap. Crap. Her mouth opened and shut, no sound coming out as she felt as though she wanted to faint. Words failing, she grabbed the bag she'd brought with her and shoved it towards his chest.

"My, um, grandmother," Bernice blurted out. "She wanted you to have these."

Steve took the bag, his hands trembling in a way they hadn't while he'd been defying gravity upon the rings. He opened it and saw the sketch pads. He swallowed, his exhalation audible as he slid the dirt-stained notebooks out and opened the first one. His eyes had that same sorrowful look she'd noticed the first time she had ever laid eyes upon him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. Her grandmother must have told him she had these, because without even going through them, it was obvious he knew what they contained.

"There's … um … pictures," Bernice stuttered, pointing to the crumbling scrapbook at the bottom of the stack. "Of your … um … grandfather. I didn't realize … my grandmother … you look a lot like him, you know?"

Steve opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it. A muscle twitched in his cheek, that same unreadable expression her uncles had whenever they had more to say and would not say it. They stood there, two strangers who had nothing in common now that Bernice had delivered the package.

"Well … um," Bernice said, feeling embarrassed. "I just … um … gotta … go." She gave him a sheepish little wave and turned, deriding herself for her foolish fantasies. She had wished there would be something to talk about with the stranger who had taken down an alien invasion, but the only thing they had in common was her dead grandmother. She nodded politely at the gym manager and yanked open the door to the outside.

"Bernice?"

Bernice froze, not sure she had imagined him calling her name.

"Would you …uh…"

Steve moved towards her with surprising speed, an awkwardness to his gait she had never seen before.

"Um … would you like to go get a cup of … uh … coffee … or … something?" His voice trailed off, as though he expected her to say 'no.'

Bernice looked up to meet his eyes. Such brilliant, blue eyes. They were filled with indecision and … fear? She remembered something her grandmother had once said about him. 'He has no idea how to talk to a woman...'

Steve was shy!

Bernice didn't know how to talk to drop-dead gorgeous superheroes, but she did know a thing or two about coaxing her geeky, reclusive artist friends out of their shells. At this point, what did she have to lose? She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, and gave him her most reassuring smile.

"Sure," she said, pretending she was speaking in the matter-of-fact tone her grandmother had used whenever she was ordering everybody around. "I'll wait while you go get cleaned up."

Looking as though he had just dodged a bullet, Steve gave her an embarrassed smile and called over the gym manager to show her around. He raced up a rickety set of stairs, two at a time, to go get cleaned up. Rodriguez showed her the facility, his toothless grin wide as he introduced her to the other athletes and showed off improvements they were making to resurrect the gym from the dead. Pankration was an ancient Olympic competitive sport. The modern-day equivalent would be mixed martial arts. The partially completed mural, it turned out, was being painted by Steve.

Bernice's eyes drank in the feast his talent was bringing to life upon the wall, his art every bit as beautiful as he was. His talent would compare favorably to any student at the New York Institute of Visual Arts. It finally dawned upon her why her grandmother had wanted her to bring her superhero friend the notebooks after she was gone.

They actually had something in common!

X

Note: Many think of male gymnastics as a 'sissy sport,' but it is one of the most physically demanding sports on the planet. This is an Olympic year, so be sure to watch the men compete and have fun oogling their muscles bulge as they swing around those tiny rings. A Van Gelder and a Jovetech are two of the most difficult physical maneuvers in the world. Any man that can perform –those- moves would be physically capable of swinging up into an alien spaceship and taking out an entire squadron of bad guys!

For some serious eye-candy –until- then, you can see these named moves at:

www +dot+ youtube +dot+ com / watch?v=-U_mgXrYbY&feature=related

(replace +dot+ with a dot and close up the spaces … foolish fanfic net weblink restrictions!)

Plankation was a competitive martial arts-type sport practiced from the earliest Olympics until the newly Christianized Byzantian emperor banned it around 393 AD. Only men were allowed to attend. Most events were competed naked as the loose-fitting togas of the time were not conducive to grappling. Other than leather wrappings wrapped around combatant's knuckles, the sport was fought no-holds-barred. The only rules were no mayhem (biting off chunks of flesh when you bit your opponent) or poking out their eyes. Since this occurred quite frequently in the heat of things and athletes occasionally died, two judges equipped with canes would beat whichever opponent got carried away until they released the 'illegal' hold, but would not stop the fight. Plankration also served as a training method for the army. One famous athlete defeated a heavily armed champion in a contest before Alexander the Great using nothing but his Plankration holds.

When the Olympics were revived in 1896, all of the ancient sports –except- Plankation were included as events. There has been some movement lately (given the rise in popularity of mixed martial arts) to revive the ancient sport as an exhibition event, but thus far, the International Olympic committee has declined.