A/N: Sorry this is late. I had a problem uploading to Doc Manager. I was just a child during the times they talk about here. Some of this is research and some my childish impressions.

Marching Forward

Steve gave a watery smile. "You knew Gabe?"

"I marched with Gabe, Jim Morita, too," Brown confirmed.

Steve frowned. "Marched? In the Army?"

"In the Civil Rights Movement," Brown said. When Steve looked blank, Brown gave Leslie A Look. She threw up her hands. "I don't know why everyone thinks that I should bombard Steve with history. He's been in town less than a week. He needs to know how to find food, how to get around and where he can exercise safely," she said pointedly. "We're going to work on using the Internet soon. Then he can start looking things up for himself. I did tell him about the Dodgers and Jackie Robinson, so he's been updated a little on PC terms."

" 'Black,' not 'colored'," Steve said obediently, figuring Brown wouldn't mind.

The old man just nodded. "That's a good place to start," he admitted. "It's practical. You always were practical," he said to Leslie, who curtsied.

Abe explained a little about the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s and told Steve about the protest marches he went on.

"Gabe used every bit of his fame as a Howling Commando to push for equal rights," Brown said. "One reporter asked if he wasn't ashamed to use your name, the name of a dead hero, to promote his cause. He reminded them that you put together the Howling Commandos, the first racially integrated Army unit. He said if you were still alive, you'd be marching right along with him."

Steve's voice was choked. "I would have. Gabe was my friend. I hated to see him and Jim treated like something less than the rest of us."

"We did some good," Brown said. "There are still racial tensions in the U.S., but it's so much better than the old days."

"Not that you didn't take advantage of prejudice," Leslie joked.

Brown gave her a wicked grin.

"Mr. Brown was one of SHIELD's best undercover agents," Leslie said. "He has the most successful operations in SHIELD history."

"Only because I did it for so many years," he said modestly. "That Romanoff girl is beating my yearly average. She'll pass me someday."

Leslie laughed. Abe had always kept track of his stats, as if he were a baseball player.

"He started with SHIELD the year I was born," Leslie said.

"I was only 17 when I started," Abe told Steve, emphasizing he wasn't as old as Leslie made him out to be.

"He specialized in playing servants back in the late '50s and '60s when black servants were common and commonly disregarded. He played hotel bellhops, restaurant waiters, railroad conductors, house servants — White House servants! He saved the president's life once, so subtly that even the Secret Service never knew."

"And morning coffee was only five minutes late," Brown said proudly. "The president didn't even notice."

"Abe collected information without even needing to hide. He was a legend when I started with SHIELD in 1980."

Brown chuckled at the memory.

"He tried to trick the new girl," Leslie said. "He pretended he was the janitor."

"She spotted me right away," Abe said. "Nearly a hundred enemy agents, mob bosses and traitors had overlooked me, but she identified me immediately."

"It was his bad luck that I'd started my job by filing personnel records," Leslie said dryly. "Now you tell me, how come I never heard about this boxing club?"

Brown shrugged. "You can't teach an old spy new tricks. You didn't need to know, so I didn't say anything. Now you do, so you're here. I inherited the place from my uncle a couple of years ago. He had a nice pension, so he didn't need to make a profit. He ran it as a place where the youngsters could hang out after school. Instructors come in, teach the kids discipline and self-defense. They have connections with other boxing programs if kids seem really serious or really talented. When I took over, I added a private, after-hours club for agents who need a place to let loose and don't need a lot of fancy equipment. Nicky said that's just what you're looking for. Got a few frustrations to let out?"

Steve let out a sigh. "Yeah. I've got to warn you, I'm liable to break things."

He told Abe about puncturing the punching bag and breaking the gym equipment at the residence. Abe just nodded as if this was business as usual.

"Nicky gave me an account to draw on for replacement equipment." Abe pulled a key out of a drawer. "This is the key to the storeroom where I keep the heavy bags. If I'm not here when you come it, you can collect it out of this drawer. I'll make sure we have extra bags in stock at all times. Break as many as you need to."

"I'll clean up after myself," Steve promised.

Abe just shrugged. "It's not a problem. I've got a bunch of teenage boys to do my bidding. It's good for them to work hard."

"In a roundabout way, you were responsible for me getting into SHIELD, captain," the old man said thoughtfully. "If you hadn't picked him for the Howling Commandos, I never would have heard of Gabe Jones and he was my idol."

"Because he was a war hero?"

"No, because he was a college man," Brown said. "I was determined to go to college. I worked every night busing tables at a restaurant and went to college during the day. Then one night, I was putting on my clothes to go home when the police came and told me I didn't have a home to go to. A Christmas tree fire had destroyed our apartment building. Three families were killed, including mine. The rest of the neighbors, all people I'd known since I was a kid, were scattered. In these days, they'd bundle me off to Child Services because I wasn't 18, but it was looser in those days. I had a job and people offered me clothes and a place to stay. So I was left on my own. My uncle was a journeyman boxer at the time, traveling from hotel room to hotel room, boxing on the undercard. He didn't have a place for me, even if I'd wanted to give up my college dreams, but I got by."

"That's so sad," Leslie said sympathetically. Brown waved the sentiment away."

"It was a looong time ago," he pointed out. "I didn't tell you to get pity, but to show how alone I was. I lived in DC and the steakhouse where I worked was frequented by many important people. I overheard something that, well, it sounded like treason to me. I didn't know who to turn to. My boss, Mr. Hartley, was a good man, but not an important man. I didn't know if he could help me, but I was considering telling him when Gabe Jones and Dum-Dum Dugan and Jim Morita came into the restaurant…"

It was better than a newsreel when the three Howling Commandos walked into the restaurant — for one thing, they were in living color. Big, bright and loud, that was young Abe's first impression.

They were all dressed up in their uniforms with medals shining, because they'd been at some important meeting.

Dugan was insisting the restaurant had the best pork chops in the city and he wanted some, but Gabe and Jim weren't sure they'd be welcome. Segregation was under fire at the time, but rich white folks still didn't want to eat with coloreds.

"I'm an old black man," Brown confided in Steve. "I can say 'coloreds'."

"Noted," Steve said gravely.

The maître d' hustled over to greet the guests. He was nervous. He didn't know what to do with a celebrity black man, and a few regular customers were scowling from their tables, so he passed the buck and called the manager.

Mr. Hartley was from California and a true Christian. He didn't hold with segregation, though it was prevalent in D.C.

"Mr. Robertson," he chided the maître d' gently, but loud enough for all the customers to hear. "We don't turn away war heroes. Gentlemen, this way."

Dugan started to balk when he led them toward a table at the back, but Jones and Morita hustled him along. They appreciated the compromise and didn't want to cause the nice man any more trouble. He wasn't the owner, only the manager.

"I'd rather sit here," Gabe said firmly. "It's quieter back here."

"Though you'll take care of that," Morita teased Dugan.

One couple left in a huff, but another approached politely and asked for their autographs — all their autographs, so it seemed that everything evened out.

Abe realized this was his chance. These men had worked for an intelligence arm of the Army during the war. They could be trusted and they knew people.

The trio ate heartily (with Dugan praising the pork chops). When they left, young Abe took a chance and followed them. He almost ran into them outside, because Dugan had stopped to light a stogie.

"You need something?" Dugan eyed him suspiciously.

"He's just a kid, Dum Dum," Morita said easily. "Probably wants Gabe's autograph."

Abe looked around to make sure no one else was close, then he told the men what he'd overheard.

"They listened, all three of them, and didn't treat me like a kid telling wild tales. They promised to investigate and, a few months later, there were some scandalous arrests made."

Steve absorbed the information about his friends like an eager sponge. Leslie approved. This way, Steve heard about their lives before he saw the big "Deceased" stamp glaring from the official files.

Abe continued: "One day I was waiting at the bus stop after work. It was 1 a.m. and no one else was around. A roadster pulled up next to the bus bench with a white woman driving. I figured she was lost and going to ask directions, but she looked straight at me and said, 'Mr. Brown. My name is Margaret Carter. Gabe Jones thinks I should offer you a job.'"

"Peggy," Steve breathed.

"I was flabbergasted," Abe said. "All I could say was, 'I have a job.' She smiled at me and her eyes were sharp, but kind. 'Get in and let's talk while I take you home,' she said.

"SHIELD was a small operation in those days," Abe explained. "Miss Carter was one of the top agents and took it as her mission to make sure SHIELD was not made up entirely of lily white men."

"And pretty female secretaries, recruited by Howard Stark," Leslie put in, getting a grin from Abe.

"Miss Carter recruited diversity — women, blacks, Hispanics, Asians, old folks and kids like me. The investigative arm of SHIELD was square-jawed white men, mostly veterans. That's what people expected. The rest of us were the covert squad — the ones who infiltrated; the ones who listened. Heck, half the investigators didn't know we existed. Not until they got to Level 4.

"I joined her crew. I stayed in the job I had, but I listened with more intent. I worked for SHIELD part time and they paid for me to finish college." Abe snorted. "Then I went back to doing all the menial jobs I'd hoped to avoid by going to college! Up until the mid-'60s when the stereotype changed from 'humble servant' to 'angry black youth' and people stopped treating me like furniture. Then I infiltrated Civil Rights movements, trying to sort honest protesters from foreign agitators and protecting protesters from lynchings." He shrugged. "Anyway, I'd been working for SHIELD for 20 years when this little lady came along."

"I'm honored to meet you, Mr. Brown," Steve said sincerely. "I'd like to hear more about your adventures. I have a lot to learn. And I'd like to hear more about Gabe and anyone else that I knew."

"Dugan made a career with SHIELD. Gabe and Morita left after awhile, because they thought they could do more good in more visible roles. Gabe became a professor at Howard University. Jim taught high school in Fresno and ran for office, climbing from city council to Congress. They both openly supported the Civil Rights Movement, promoting peaceful protest and condemning violence on either side. Gabe was in Memphis when Dr. King was assassinated."

"Who?" Steve asked.

Abe glared at Leslie who glared back. "Less than a week," she reminded Abe. "Once he knows his way around in this time, we'll start the catch up lessons."

Abe nodded that this made sense and told Steve, "Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was a Baptist minister and a leader in the Civil Rights Movement. He led peaceful protests and public marches and was willing to go to jail for his beliefs. He was assassinated in 1968. His death led to outbursts of violence and some terrible riots that he would have deplored, but there was also a great outpouring of love and sympathy."

"His name is respected these days," Leslie said. "His January birthday is a national holiday."

"I'd like to learn more," Steve said.

"We'll look him up in our internet practice," Leslie promised. "You have to hear some of his speeches to appreciate him."

"Free at last," Abe murmured. Then he shook himself away from his memories. "Come, let me show you where everything is. You can try out a punching bag or two." He gave a big grin. "I want to see you break something."