Of Meetings and Run-ins

5 months earlier

Steve

The best place to be in New York for a superhero was on a bench in the middle of Central Park. This bench, in his humble opinion, was the optimal place for people watching. No matter the time of day, rain or shine, everyday tourists, the elderly, couples, friends, photographers, artists of all different backgrounds and histories passed by his bench. Despite the fact that he was now in a world that had transformed unimaginably from the time he was born, the people in and out of central park had always been the same. They still walked or biked with purpose. No matter the year, there would always people that took the time to enjoy the sun burning bright above their heads, the green of spring grass, the blooming of flowers and the smell of freshness in the spring air.

Most of his days were spent hidden behind the tinted glass of Stark Tower reading— he read about technology, history, and culture changes— with decades missing from his experiences, he knew he would never be able to fully understand the way the modern world functioned. But as one of the many in Central Park, Captain Steve Rogers was slowly integrating himself back into the society of the 21st century.

The familiar feel of the park was not the only reason he enjoyed sitting in his spot. Nature kept the attention elsewhere it masked his identity more than anything ever had even when he sat in plain sight. On the paved and crowded streets and restaurants throughout New York, there was always a vigilant eye out for celebrities. Paparazzi existed to increase his anxiety of being followed all the time, escaping them was a feat he could only manage with Tony Stark's personal AI. The film caught on personal camcorders (a fantastic creation) during the fight with his fellow Avengers had leaked many of their identities. Yet, so long as he was in the park, he was as close to invisible and shadowed by the trees anyone could be.

This day seemed to be no exception… until a plastic Cannon Camera lens cap rolled right up to his feet and snapped him out of his daydreaming.

Steve's blue orbs stared at the black thing for a few seconds before he reached down to pluck it off the ground. As he did so, brown boots stopped before him, the thumping of the feet pausing as the person's weight shifted back and forth with camera in hand.

Lifting his view up after examining the small round item, Steve found a young woman standing tentatively, her gaze remained on the black cover and her chest rose and fell lightly. Her mouth was open slightly and her cheeks a shade of pink. Contrasting to her pale skin, a pastel blue dove-printed dress made her pink flushed cheeks stick out under the rays of the sun.

The first word to tumble out of her mouth was an abashed and a bit loud: "Sorry!" At the same time, sheepish smile crossed her lips. "It got away from me- I-" she looked him in the eyes and then stopped speaking for a second, her eyes narrowing as he assumed she recognized him. When she blinked, she took a breath spoke again, this time calmly and with more confidence. "It fell from my pocket and, as my luck goes, landed perfectly to roll away before I noticed it was down the hill." Motioning the grey paved path that lead up toward one of the bridges of the park and then motioned the trek the item took to his feet. She ran a hand through her hair, shifting it all to one side and gripping her camera tighter with one hand.

Steve ran his finger over the brand name on the cap before offering it back. "It's okay. Here."

Just barely brushing their fingers she took it back from him and then looked around the park. "Thanks." She said, as if an afterthought as her mind took in the surroundings. The area they were in was relatively uncrowded. The wind picked up and the trees swayed feeling good on her warm skin. She looked behind him, and then behind herself searching for something he couldn't determine.

The Captain watched her facial expressions as she took in the smaller details of the area. She seemed to narrow them at the bench he sat on, and then at the lamp post a few feet away. She considered the sky and the blooming bushes turning pink. The way she observed the area was peculiar and unlike anything he had seen before. A sense of wonder and realization of the beauty of their surroundings seemed to distract her for a few moments. Then she flipped her eyes back to his. "Hey, would you mind if I took a picture of you? From, like, behind you?"

In almost surprise, Steve rose his eyebrows. Did she recognize him or was she just truly wanting to take a photo of a stranger?

"I know it's weird," almost as if reading his mind as she began to ramble "some random girl wanting to take a picture. But you're just sitting in the perfect place and I don't want to run off behind you and be a creep by taking your picture without your consent." The Avenger considered her argument, despite not being sure by what she meant when she called herself a 'creep' but in the end, he nodded his head lightly.

"Go ahead—but, do you want me to like, pose?"

"No! You're perfectly fine as is you can just keep looking at people or the plants or whatever it was you were doing. It'll only take a minute. Two, tops."

Once more, Steve Rogers nodded his head and then watched as she gave him a grin and jogged around the bench to the field behind him. When she slowed, he turned his head back to the bridge that she had motioned to. The people had suddenly gone missing, a quiet pause in the motion that surrounded central park on a constant basis. Behind him, his supernatural senses could pick up on the camera's lens clicking shut for at least three pictures. Then he could hear the woman shifting her body and moving to the side a bit more. A few birds dropped through the trees, and he watched as they swiveled around each other with light, joyful tweets.

She would have snuck up on him if he couldn't hear the clicking of her boots coming around on the pavement to his right. When she was close enough, he looked to find her grinning. With thumbs up, she said "all done. Thanks! Sorry for disturbing you." He nodded his head and looked her a little closer in the eyes. She still said not a word on his identity, her lack of extra acknowledgment forced him to believe that in her eyes he was no more than a stranger. It was odd, being a stranger to someone. It was refreshing.

"It was no trouble M'am." She let out a laugh and her muddy brown eyes, like her shoes, twinkled in the light.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of your Sunday."

"You too."

With a flutter of her blue dress, she walked back over the bridge with a grace that only women seemed to have. Her feet skipped across the ground and she stared at the scenery at the peak of the bridge, lifting the camera to her eyes and taking a photo of something off in the distance. With a final glance when she finished, her hand passed a small wave in his direction before she descended down the opposite side of the bridge. After that, Steve thought nothing more of the curious brunette in the pastel dress.

The days passed by normally, most of Steve's time was split between walking around New York and between the libraries in Stark's tower. While he was given a tablet to read anything on digitally, he still preferred the feel and smell of bound books. For his sake, and for Bruce's Stark tower had an impeccably organized floor stacked with books. With the help of JARVIS he had an endless book list to get through. Already he had gone through a variety of text: classical, scientific, and historical. It would take probably another year before Steve will have read even a tenth of the books that Stark had in the single building and even longer before he would need to request a book.

Every night, Pepper, the Co-CEO of Stark Industry, had something cooked for the whole team. At least, everyone who was in the Tower at the time. The people often changed. Bruce and he were always there, as they had no other place to go. But Natasha and Clint had a tendency to disappear for weeks at a time on SHIELD business. Thor split his time three ways, home, Jane, and the tower. When Jane was in town with her co-worker, Darcy, most of their time was spent time with Pepper.

Even after weeks of living in the tower, Steve felt out of place. Technology ran through the walls and Tony's extravagant tastes left some spaces feeling cold. With an entire floor to himself and an open schedule he often found himself a bit homesick for the tiny apartment, he shared with Bucky when they lived in Brooklyn. Weeks after waking up, he received files on his barbershop quartet from the Second World War. Most had died of old age. Peggy had died even earlier. After the war she got married and proceeded to have a few children, also becoming a founding member of SHIELD at the same time. He was only proud to have known the woman who had practically built the modern national and international security of the world.

On that particular Thursday, Steve's heart finally led him to the side of town he had put off for months. Home. Thought it couldn't really be called that any longer. Most of the buildings had boarded up windows and glass littered the streets. In other areas, it was hard to even tell the way things used to be. Modern hotels and restaurants stood in the place of the small brick and stone buildings from his memories. The bowling alley was now rows of apartment buildings, the Cinema turned into a market store. Even his own home had become nothing but a boarded up building. In a way, his disappointment and homesickness built up with every step. As if on repeat, memories of playing on the streets with Bucky, or going to the hot dog stand that sat on that corner. Even memories of the park—now refurbished and protected—and the Hooverville's that lined it when he was younger. Today, the time was known as 'the great depression,' but even in the 30's they had been calling it 'great'.

Steve found himself passing the building that his serum had been administered in. It, like his home, was boarded up with wood and keep out signs. The glass was broken in certain places and spray paint lined the walls spewing vulgar words of disrespect. There were not any kids on the streets, not anymore in New York—it was too dangerous. Sure, in Queens and on the outskirts and rural areas there were a few, but kids were generally horded in their houses, playing in virtual worlds Tony had called 'video games'.

Things had changed. He passed only two stores that he recognized, and even then, they were much more modern, much less like they used to be.

Then they didn't. As Steve turned onto a street back toward the city, he found himself staring at a small building, less modern than the ones surrounding it. The street had a larger population, more door to door shopping and smaller restaurants. Down the road, he could see one of the many entrances to Central Park. The door was a pastel red colour and it just seemed like a place that he would have visited growing up. No neon open sign and it held a dignity compared to the buildings around it. A sign in the window read the heart-breaking words of 'Going out of Business.' But the hanging name reaching toward the streets—the same name that haunted him since he woke up, stood in front of him.

PEGGY'S

He couldn't leave without going in.

Taking the few steps to the door and stepping in, his eyes focused on the first thing he saw. The Vintage black and white and sempai photos that lined many of the walls. The smell of books and wood. The relaxing feeling of his own childhood and his life prior to becoming what the serum made him. It took him back—"Hi? Can I help you?" The young woman around a corner spoke up, peaking her head above the desk in the front.

Steve almost jumped at the sound of her voice, not seeing her originally when he walked in the door. For a moment, he thought about what she asked but then shook his head with a small smile in response. "I'm just looking around."

She let out a small laugh, and then she let out a gasp. "Hey. You're the guy from central park." She stood up from her spot beside the box to get a closer look a few steps closer to him. "The one I took a picture of on the bench."

From there he immediately recognized her. The young woman in the blue dress who had chased the little black cap on her camera when it rolled right up to his feet. This time though, she wore high wasted shorts with suspenders and a pair of glasses rested on her small nose. Her eyes were, despite their dark depths, bright in laughter, shining with her smile and straight white teeth.

In response to her question, Steve just nodded his head.

"Small world. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask I'm the only one here. Name's Eleanor" Without bothering him anymore, she looked back down to the collection of items surrounding the box, shifting her position to start fitting them back in again.

The Captain walked past her and further into the store itself. About a quarter of it included normal, touristy things regarding New York and its surrounding attractions, the rest of the store had more of a—he hated to say it—vintage look. Things were already beginning to get put into boxes. Steve walked around the room a bit, looking at some of the more classic things, the wood carvings, the art, the old grandfather clock in the corner and 30's radio. There were baseball hats lined up on a shelf on the wall from the Yankee's every transformation of the changing cap style.

It took about twenty minutes for Steve to make his way through everything, looking at many of the items with a fondness, as well as with a homesickness. They didn't make things with longevity like this any longer. As he got closer to the front of the store again, he saw the woman as she packed the boxes with gentle fingers and a small smile. Her hair was braided into a ponytail that rested on her shoulder.

Despite being to her side and ten feet away, she looked up, probably feeling his gaze. When her eyes met his, she pushed up the black rims of her glasses and sat back on her heels. Her eyes were attentive, waiting for him to say something.

"Um, sorry. I… I uh, I was wondering—who's Peggy?" Steve choked over his words a bit, as he always tended to do around women in the 40's. Even in the modern day, he didn't know how to properly address an independent woman without his cheeks turning pink.

Eleanor, as she had said her name was, laughed lightly standing up straight and grabbing a photo from behind the desk. "She was the owner's wife actually. She passed away early in their marriage, just after he started this place—he always told me that she loved New York." She handed the photo to him. He should have expected it to be the woman he once loved. Smiling in the photo with a man he almost recognized himself. The elder man wore a military uniform, so chances were that at some point he had actually worked with him. Peggy on the other hand, beautiful Peggy Carter was in a wedding gown that nearly broke his heart. She was so happy though, her hand laced around the man's elbow. As if she felt a need to add in, the modern lady before him spoke up once more. "She was a beautiful lady. They met during World War Two. I think they were both officers actually."

"Where is the owner?" Steve asked curiously, glancing around the store for emphasis on searching for another person.

"He… he passed away at age 94 a few weeks back. His kids decided they didn't want to keep the place, so I said I'd stick around till closing."

"They had kids?"

"Yeah. Three, a son and two daughters. And Mark here died with five grandchildren and one great-grand child."

Despite the heaviness in his chest, Steve smiled.

"When do you close?"

"Four weeks. June 20th." She touched the box with her foot. "It'll be sad, I do love this place. But sometimes we've just gotta move on. Right?"

Steve pondered her words for a few seconds before nodding his head. Walking back and grabbing the radio that he had passed, he brought it to her and motioned it. "Can I buy this?" She lit up with a smile that made the world seem a bit brighter. He handed it to her to take with her behind the front desk and followed her around, watching as she handled it with care

"Of course! It still works actually—I was cleaning it yesterday." She walked over to the cashier and typed in a password. "Ten dollars flat."

Steve handed her the money in cash from his wallet. Not making a comment like he had on inflation like he did the first time he went shopping.

"I was worried we'd have to donate it… pshh. Who am I kidding, I probably would have taken it myself to add to my already crowded apartment" She laughed and put it in a box with wrapping paper. "Because we're closing, all deals are final. Is that okay?"

"It won't be a problem." Steve watched her as she touched the radio with care one last time before closing the box and sliding it across the table. Taking it into his hands, he gave her a soft smile. She gave one back and nodded her head. "It was nice to meet you again, Eleanor."

"Yeah! You too—uh-"

"Steve."

"You too Steve. Have a nice day!" She grinned and gave him a kind wave, almost a replica of the one that she had given him when she reached the top of the bridge earlier that week. With a chuckle he couldn't suppress, Steve nodded to her with all the politeness he had. Exiting the shop he stepped down the two stairs and looked at the building. He stared at the red lining, remembering Peggy in the dark red dress and her exemplified red lipstick. In his mind, he could see her running the store at its peak, in its glory and taking care of three children.

She was happy at least. He had to remind himself that, looking at the box in his hands with a small smile. In the window, he could see the motion of the single inhabitant in the store as she took a few things off the shelf of the display and replaced them, retreating to her boxes for packing.

It was, quite possibly, time to move on. In the depths of the captain's head, he felt the voices of his past wishing him well as he turned toward the park once more. His heart, almost seemed lighter as he made his way toward his new home. His new future.

Eleanor

Back in the store, the young woman sighed at the picture that sat on the desk next to her, Mark and Peggy's grinning faces made her heart swell. They were reunited wherever they were, she knew they had to be. Now it was her job to finish their last touch to the modern world, their classic and homey items, the leftover legacy that they had placed.

Eleanor was disappointed. She couldn't conceive the reality that their kids were so ready to close the shop and all of its glory. To sell the classic collector's items and rid themselves of many of the photos that had been left behind of their great ancestors. Lucy, the youngest of the three, but well into her fifties had stopped by and gone through anything they wanted. She had settled the agreements and told Eleanor to take anything she wanted after they closed with a motherly fashion. But still, there were many things that had been left behind, that Eleanor would never be able to keep. Things that would be left behind or given to people that wouldn't understand their significance to the elderly couple laid beside each other in Queens.

She finished packing two more boxes before closing at 7:00. The streets were emptying out in the area, and leaving any later would be too dangerous for her on this side of town. She had four more weeks of true stability before looking for a new job became a new priority. Living in New York was rather expensive, and while she had enough saved up for a few months, it was about time to move on. Move on. Move forward toward the unknown that fate seemed to have laid out before her.