This is Steve's perspective during "Much Ado About Nothing" (chapter 68) in Roots and Anchors.

To Steve's delight, it was surprisingly fun to window shop with Megan and her parents. There was no set itinerary, no item they had to find. Rather, it was an excuse to enjoy the evening air and let the conversation meander as aimlessly as their feet. Often, there was more than one conversation going on. They'd start on one shared topic, then Megan or Kathy would spot something and break away, continuing their conversation with whomever stayed close. Steve and Greg trailed along, sometimes chatting with each other, at other times trailing after one of the women. It was a complex dance with no pattern or rules he could discern. The only constant was that they always ended up back together, either admiring a purchase, commenting on something they'd seen, or discussing where to go next.

It felt right.

During one interlude, Steve found himself following Kathy while Megan wandered ahead and Greg stopped to chat with a shopkeeper. "Megan plans to set you up tonight so you ride back to her place with me," he told her softly as he watched her pick up a chunky necklace that had caught her eye.

"Does she now? I'm not surprised." Kathy smiled to herself then laid the necklace back with its neighbors on the display board. "My only question is why you are telling me rather than playing along."

"I don't know how well you respond to being manipulated, even by your daughter."

"You've been on the receiving end once too many times."

Steve nodded, though her reply wasn't a question.

"Since Megan expects your cooperation, how did you plan on foiling her attempt if I said no?" Kathy looped her hand though his arm as they walked. It was nice to be touched with casual affection, especially by someone other than Megan. It made him feel connected to the world in a way he'd feared he'd lost when he first woke up in this strange new world. The social norms had changed during his years in the ice and he never initiated contact, other than the universally acceptable handshake, for fear he'd somehow cause offense.

"One option would be to put you in a cab and follow you back. Another would be to make sure you and Greg end up closer to your car than we are to my bike by the time we're ready to leave. Megan means well, but it's your call."

Kathy nodded and seemed to be satisfied with his answer. "Well, she's not wrong. But motorcycles terrify me, to be honest. She lectured me at length yesterday about why riding with you is extremely safe."

Steve didn't try to hide his grin. "Megan thinks you'll just talk yourself out of it given a chance. It's why she's setting you up."

"Well, you're both right. But I'll play along and let her think she's getting away with something. This can be our secret."

Steve nodded as he shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "If her jacket doesn't fit you, you can wear mine and put hers in the saddlebag. Her helmet may not fit right, but it will keep you legal. I promise I won't put the bike down while you're on it."

"Why do I need a jacket at all? It's summer."

"Even hitting a bug when on a bike can sting. I'll heal a lot faster than you will if it comes to that. But she's planning on arranging it so you have her jacket before she darts off with Greg and leaves you stranded with me."

"It's a good plan. But I'm glad you gave me the choice." Kathy smiled mischievously and continued, "Of course, I may see what I can do to make it a bit more challenging for her."

"I won't say a word," he promised. Kathy's comment took him back to his days with the Howling Commandos.

"What are you smiling so wistfully about?" she asked, pulling him out of his reverie. "You looked like you were somewhere else."

Steve nodded, though the warmth in his chest didn't fade with his return to the present. "Gabe, Morita, and Bucky had prank wars and often recruited me to help things go smoothly. You and Megan tonight? Just like old times."

"Give me an example."

"Well, there was a period where a lot of pranks revolved around messing with dress uniforms. Some of the top brass got it in their heads that we needed to have a lot of publicity, so there were reporters coming through on a regular basis to photograph us and write article for the papers back home. Naturally, the ones in charge wanted to sell a good story, not tell the truth about what the war was like, so they wanted us all spiffed up in in dress uniforms. They didn't want the Howling Commandos photographed all muddy and tired. One time, Gabe snuck into Bucky's tent about a half hour before we were to report and moved all of his pins to the opposite side of his jacket and reversed the laces on his shoes from the top to the bottom. I don't remember how he got Bucky out of his shoes long enough to do it, but he managed. Getting the pins in the right spot is a huge pain. Doing it under a time crunch is even worse."

Steve felt his smile broadening as he remembered Bucky's colorful curses when he'd discovered the state of his uniform jacket. It didn't remove the constant ache of grief, but it did muffle it for a moment. It was hard to accept the fact he'd never see them again.

"Did Bucky figure out who did it?"

"Oh, yeah. Then he paid Gabe back by hand-sewing the tie-sides of his extra skivvies to the side seams. It took Gabe a couple of hours sitting next to the campfire to get all the stitches out. Buck didn't sew very well so the stitches were all over the place and in no sort of order."

Kathy laughed at the mental image Steve painted for her. "From the sounds of it, they were careful to keep their pranks silly, not dangerous."

Steve nodded. "It's why Colonel Philips didn't try too hard to put a stop to it despite all his yelling about it. Boredom can wreck morale right quick. The boys were always careful with their targets. No one ever messed with weapons or essential gear. Even the backward laced shoes were functional in a pinch." He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. "I miss 'em."

"I'm sure they missed, you, too, after your plane went down. By then, you'd become a family."

"I'd give just about anything to see them again," he admitted, so softly he wondered if Kathy could even hear him.

She squeezed his arm as they walked to let him know she'd heard him just fine. "With everything else that's happened in the last few years, I'm starting to think just about anything is possible. Tony Stark might just invent a time machine and you'll get your chance to do just that."

Steve started to disagree, then stopped himself. He was tired of given ten dollar bills to Nick Fury.

"Until that day comes, you need to start writing these stories down. Memories are a funny thing. They're malleable. Record them before they change."

Steve looked down the street, seeing the Howling Commandos huddled around a campfire while Dernier complained in very colorful French about the smoke getting in his eyes. "Megan says I should write a book." He thought for a long moment, then discarded the idea. "I'm not a writer." The streets of Georgetown came back into focus, and it hurt.

"It doesn't have to be polished prose. You don't have to publish it. But you need to capture the good memories before they're lost."

He shook his head slowly and shifted to shield her from a pedestrian who was paying attention to his phone and would have run right into them if Steve hadn't intervened. "Remembering hurts too much."

"Worse than not being able to remember them at all?" Kathy waited a moment for that to sink in and then switched tactics. "Don't you owe them that much?"

He stopped and looked at her for a long moment. "You do that guilt thing really well."

Kathy let one corner of her mouth turn up. "I'm a mother. It goes with the territory. Just promise me you'll think about it."

He knew the battle was already lost. "Okay."

The next half hour had Steve so amused that his sides hurt from holding back his laughter. Kathy did a masterful job of sticking close to Greg and making sure Megan never had a chance to get her stepdad alone. Megan, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly bold in her attempts to separate the two. She managed to pass her leather jacket to Steve when she insisted she had to try on a truly hideous blouse that she ended up not buying, saying it had looked better on the hanger. She 'forgot' to take her jacket back from him, so he ignored Kathy's knowing look and folded it over his arm.

Megan's chance finally came when Kathy took pity on her daughter and stopped in front of an antique shop, mulling over whether or not a particular side table would look good in her living room. Megan swooped in, took Greg by the arm, and dragging him off to get his opinion on some potential gift for Steve.

"That was fun," Kathy told Steve, softly as she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the table in the window. "Is she even pretending to show Greg something?"

"Not unless it's in a store two blocks back," he said, watching Megan hustle Greg back towards the car. She permitted herself one backwards glance and gave Steve a smug thumbs-up.

"Trying on that blouse was an act of desperation. I nearly bit through my lip trying not to laugh. Let me have her jacket."

Steve held it for her while she slipped it on and zipped it up.

"It will do," Kathy decided. "What should we do with my purse?"

"It will fit in the saddlebag."

After they secured her purse, he handed her Megan's helmet and helped her adjust the chin strap. He got on the bike and helped Kathy sit down behind him, taking time to show her where to put her feet.

"Just so you know, Stark put radios in our helmets the last time we were in New York. They're voice activated, so just talk normally."

"I'm glad you told me so I didn't shout to be heard and blow out your eardrums."

"That's kind of why I brought it up," he told her and turned on the bike. The engine purred beneath them.

"I'm surprised it's so quiet."

"I don't like noisy bikes. It seems like just another way of showing off. Put your arms around me and hold on. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

He could hear the nerves in her voice and felt the tension in her arms as she held tightly to his waist. "If anything makes you nervous, just say so."

"I will."

Steve smiled to himself and smoothly guided the bike out of the parking space into traffic. Within a few blocks, he felt Kathy relax a bit behind him. "Relaxing is fine, just don't loosen your grip too much in case I have to maneuver around someone not paying attention."

They drove a bit before Kathy broke the silence. "When did you first ride a motorcycle?"

"That would be when I stole one from the Nazi base we invaded when I had to make a quick escape. The building was set to blow and I'd been delayed a bit getting out. I scooped Fallsworth up on my way. There we were, going full speed down a washed-out dirt road with him shooting our pursuers and complaining the entire time about my lack of driving skills. So the first thing he did when we got back to the camp was tell Stark he needed to get me a real bike and not the inferior pile of scrap metal we'd made out way back on. The next time Stark caught up with us, he gave me the bike you saw in the Smithsonian. It came in handy more than once."

"When did you get this one?"

"Right after the attack on New York. Tony gave it to me. His father pretty much abandoned him in his search to find my plane, so I avoid talking about Howard any time Tony's around. I guess he knew about the bike his dad outfitted for me and decided to do him one better. He didn't explain, just handed me the keys and said to get out of his tower. The building was too modern for a fossil like me to be hanging around in it."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. We got off on the wrong foot from the beginning. I couldn't figure out why he was so hostile when his father had been so helpful. Now I know it's more complicated because of their history. He can be so infuriating while he's doing something nice."

"It must make it difficult to work with him."

"Not in the field. We argue enough the rest of the time to make up for it."

"And yet he flew down here from New York when you were hurt just to deliver pain medicine."

"That's Tony. Have you ever driven by the Lincoln Memorial at night?"

"No."

"Do you want to? It's not too far out of our way."

"Go ahead. Riding with you isn't scary.

"I'm glad."

Steve took her on a slow tour of the National Mall before heading south over the Potomac towards Megan's apartment. "Hold on tight," he warned her, breaking the pleasant silence. "We've got a driver up ahead who is having some difficulty staying in his lane. Drunk or texting is my guess." He dropped into a lower gear and added as much distance between them as was safe, but given the traffic, other vehicles quickly cut in front of him and filled the space.

"There he goes… hold on!" he said sharply as he saw the driver in question run a red light and t-bone another vehicle, pushing it half-way across the intersection. The three cars ahead of Steve's motorcycle slammed on their brakes, but Steve gunned his engine and slipped around them, parking his bike on the edge of the road. "Get up on the sidewalk and keep your helmet on so you're not identified or hit in another pileup," he ordered as he threw his own helmet down, and darted to the accident scene.

The offending driver got out of his car, swearing loudly at the woman he'd hit. Steve caught his arm and the guy spun around, taking a swing at Steve, who easily sidestepped the blow and spun the man around so he was leaning up against his own car, his arm twisted behind his back. "Be a dear and fetch the duct tape out of the right hand saddle bag," he called to Kathy. He saw her move to comply and turn his attention back to the idiot he was holding upright.

"I have rights!" the guy shouted before launching into a profane litany of Steve's offending traits.

"Let's review them: you have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney, free of charge if you can't afford one. And finally, you have the right to sit down and shut up before I lose my temper," Steve snapped, taking the tape from Kathy and quickly using it to secure man's wrists behind his back. "I'm sure the police will go over your rights again as soon as they get here and place you under arrest."

He turned the man around, wincing a bit at the smell of alcohol coming off his breath. The guy tried to kick him, so Steve held him up by his shirt while using his own foot to knock the guy's knee forward so he collapsed. Once the man was on the ground, Steve wrapped his ankles together and held up the roll of unused tape. "One more word out of you and I'm taping your mouth shut. Please, give me a reason."

With that, he tossed the tape back to Kathy and pushed the sedan away from the victim's car. The driver side door was smashed in, but it wasn't terribly difficult to pull off of its hinges. Steve leaned the door against the front fender and returned to check on the victim.

"Miss? Are you hurt?" he asked gently, restraining her when she tried to get up. "Stay put. There's an ambulance on its way." He'd heard two different bystanders calling 911 or he'd have asked Kathy to call the accident in. "Are you hurt anywhere you know of?"

"What happened?"

"The other driver ran a red light. My name is Steve. What's your name?"

"Beth," she whispered. "My chest hurts. And my left arm."

"That's probably from where the seatbelt caught you," he told her, checking her pulse on her neck. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he turned it on and used the light from the screen to look at her pupils. They seemed to be the same size. "I don't see any sign of a concussion, but you need to get checked out when the ambulance gets here. Your wrist looks swollen. It might be sprained or broken." Gently, he felt for any protruding bones and found nothing out of place. "At least you didn't rearrange the bones. If it's fractured, it's probably just a hairline break. But an x-ray will tell you for sure. Try not to move that arm around until then. Tell me, Beth, do you always plan for Saturday nights to end with a bang like this?"

That got him a small smile. "No, this was rather unexpected. I never saw him coming."

"I know. He's not in full contact with reality at the moment. Is there someone you want me to call for you?"

"My boyfriend Dave. Phone's in my purse."

"May I?"

"Go ahead. I know it's best for me not to move around too much just yet."

Steve reached across her and picked up her purse, then set it at her feet while he felt for the phone. "Do you have a security code?"

She gave it to him and he found Dave in her contacts, placing a call just as the first officer arrived on the scene. As he waved the officer over, he left a brief message, including his own cell phone number, then memorized Dave's phone number so he could update him once he knew what hospital Beth was being sent to.

"I heard two people call 911," he said giving the officer his full attention. "Is an ambulance on the way?"

"Yes, sir. Does she have any injuries?"

Steve shook his head. "None life threatening that I can tell, but Beth agreed to stay put until the medics check her out. She's complaining her chest hurts, which might be from the seat belt. Her left wrist is either sprained of broken. No sign of a concussion yet, but she needs to go to the hospital for an exam by a doctor." He gestured to the driver he'd taped up. "This individual was going about forty when he hit her. Before the accident, he was having a tough time staying in his lane .I was behind him and dropped back to give him room. There were three cars between us when he ran the red light and hit her." He reached into his wallet and pulled out the S.H.I.E.L.D. business cards Megan had insisted he start to carry. "If you need me to give a statement later, you can reach me at S.H.I.E.L.D."

Two other patrol cars pulled up, followed almost immediately by an ambulance. "Sorry about rearranging the wreckage like that. I was focused on making sure Beth was okay," Steve said a bit sheepishly as the other officers started moving the bystanders back and making room for the ambulance team to approach.

"It's quite all right, Captain. At the very least, it will make my report more interesting to fill out."

"I appreciate your understanding," Steve said, shaking hands before moving to where the head medic was examining Beth. "What hospital are you taking her to?"

"George Washington University."

"Beth? I'll call Dave from my phone and let him know that's where you are. You take care now."

She smiled wanly at him. "Thank you, Steve."

He smiled back, unreasonably pleased that she didn't seem to recognize him.

As he walked back to his bike, he left a second message on Dave's phone and took his helmet from Kathy. She'd apparently picked it up for him while he was dealing with the drivers. He put it on and swung his leg over his bike, then took her hand while she got on behind him. "Are you okay? He asked her as he started his bike.

"I'm fine. This is going to be all over the internet, isn't it?"

"It already is. I counted at least a half-dozen camera phones. I give it a half hour before someone online suggests you're not Megan. This could get interesting."

"I sent Megan a text explaining why we're running late. She said to tell you hot pie is waiting for us, but we need to pick up ice cream. Find a convenience store and I'll run in while you stay with the bike."

Steve pulls out and threaded the motorcycle around the accident scene and past the bystanders who had gathered to watch the first responders do their jobs, "You're shaking. Are you sure you're all right?"

"It's just a vicarious adrenaline rush. It all happened so fast. Why'd you rip the car door off instead of just going around to the passenger side?"

"It gave me an outlet for my anger that didn't involve snapping that guy's neck. He could have killed someone tonight. More importantly, it gave the E.M.T.s easier access in the event she was gravely injured. Unfortunately, I wasn't really thinking about how much attention it was going to attract."

"I think it was probably for the best," she said, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"You haven't seen the internet feeds yet."

"I don't need to. Maybe most people won't stop to think about what it means that you'll stop at an accident scene and help out, but some of them will. You lead by example and you've got a commanding presence when you need to lead. I noticed even the first officer on the scene was deferring to you, and he probably didn't even realize why."

Steve nodded, then realized she probably couldn't tell. "I noticed it, too." He sighed. "I miss being able to blend in. Aren't there any boundaries any more?"

"There might be a few, but they're hard to find. I don't like it, either. Something precious has been lost with all this technology, but I don't see any way to get it back."

"We can bomb ourselves back to the Stone Ages," Steve suggested, trying to lighten the mood. "That would work."

"I like my microwave and I have no interest in giving up central air conditioning, either."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Live your life as you see fit and ignore the rest. It's out of your control."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s P.R. department disagrees with you."

Kathy laughed at that. "It's a government agency, Steve. Of course they have layers upon layers of bureaucracy as well as idiots making policies that have no bearing on the real world."

"Did you know that there are some in the military who argue that Dr. Banner and I are actually property of the U.S. government?"

"That's appalling. Maybe you need to stop being so nice and start pushing back. It's clear they want to use your image to sell policy. Use the media to beat them at their own game and get your own message out. You can't let people in the government tell you how to live your life. You've earned the right to tell them to take a long walk off a short plank if they try to control you. I'll bring the shark bait."

Steve, honey, we need to talk. I'm trying to finish Roots and Anchors. You can't keep demanding center stage like this, not even to show off your motorcycle. Stop acting like Tony. Look at the description above. Do you see how it says COMPLETE? That is your cue to do the unthinkable and follow orders. That means there will be no more four AM suggestions about what else you want to talk about. You may like being awake at that unholy hour, but I need sleep. Clear?