By early June, the streets surrounding the United Nations building in the city had been mostly cleaned up, repairs for it and the Assembly Hall well underway. Aided in part by the recovery crews employed by SHIELD, and even a few agents of Stark Relief, it was anticipated that the area would be fully finished with by the end of the summer. That was the latest projected time, and while the members of the organization were not totally happy with it, they did appreciate the fact that it would be done at all. In the meantime, they would be meeting at other secure locations to attend to the business of the world.
The able-bodied Avengers also helped with the reconstruction efforts where they could, staying true to their promises they had made over a year prior to the sad events. There was a rotation, with one member switching out every few days, speaking with survey crews and fielding questions from the U.N. representatives that were still in the city.
Steve, while he was unable to go himself due to his injuries (and then his doctors' strict instructions to stay back and actually allow himself to heal), monitored the efforts, pleased to find that his team, his friends, were remaining active. As it had turned out, Bucky had been running almost nonstop since it had started, incorporating himself with the SHIELD agents on-site and even cycling up to Fury to make personal reports and assessments. He'd certainly come a long way from the surly, lost man he was three years ago, he mused as he turned over another report, the shuffle of the papers across from him drawing his attention up from his desk. Maria Hill was there, having declared that the day would be spent in catching him up and formulating the plans for the coming months. Understanding precisely what she was alluding to, he agreed, and so the captain and base director got to work.
A call came in the afternoon, following a check-up with Chapman on the secondary team's status, of aircraft in the vicinity. When radioed, the flight crew indicated that the Secretary of State was aboard, requesting a meeting at the base director's earliest convenience. Rogers and Hill shared a look, the blond man raising an eyebrow in silence. Maria shook her head slowly; she was not aware of the secretary's intent on coming, and would have certainly warned them all if she had. Sighing (though later, her assistant would assert that she had groaned) she gave permission for the jet to land, and would meet with the secretary in her office. It was far too late to request the rest of the team be present for the meeting, but Steve was not about to let Maria face the man alone. Picking up the papers and setting them aside for later, he moved with her, sounding the general warning to the others over the comm line as they went.
Adjourning to her space, the captain chose to stand, back ramrod straight and his arms crossed. Seating herself behind her glass-and-metalwork desk, Hill folded her hands atop it, the chairs on the opposite turned out and ready for the new arrival. Soon enough, the muffled ring of heels in the hall heralded the man's arrival, the assistant holding open the door for him and allowing him to bypass her. Another glance passed between the two as Ross looked back at the assistant and bade her to go. Discreetly, the young woman let the barest flicker of irritation flash over her face, with it caught by the former soldier and spy in the room as the secretary faced forward again.
"Captain Rogers, Ms. Hill," Ross greeted them when the door was shut, his face a stoic mask as he dipped a nod. Smoothly, he sat at Maria's silent invitation, her answering nod followed by Steve's. The briefcase in his hand was set beside a leg of the chair, no doubt filled with papers and proposals of his own.
"Secretary Ross," the captain replied verbally, his tone as neutral as possible. After their last meeting months ago, it was best to maintain careful control. Mainly because the fellow could make him lose it rather quickly. "What brings you out here?"
The stoic expression started to melt, a hint of smugness bleeding through. "Just wanted to let you know that the Sokovians have approached us to hold Zemo for his prison terms at our facility."
The captain's lips thinned even as he tipped his chin up. It was hardly surprising that Sokovia would want to transfer Zemo to a maximum security prison; their own facilities were not up to par, not for what was required of the man's sentence. Last he had heard, he was being held indefinitely at the Hague, but clearly that had changed. For her part, Maria took the news placidly.
"Good, he'll be secure there, if you all can agree," she conjectured, sitting forward in her seat. Her bright eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction as she looked at the secretary, her gaze running from the pressed suit he was wearing back to the self-satisfied cast of his features. "However, I suspect there's more to it than that. After all, we do have a representative you could've gotten in touch with to relay the news."
The contentment in his form faded slightly then, a flickering glance shot down to the case at his feet as he shifted in his chair.
"Yes," he conceded, another uncomfortable shuffle making him sit up straighter. His eyes closed briefly, and the expression on his face shifted to rancor for a few seconds. Focusing on the base director, he coughed once and informed her, "I—we—wish to reopen discussions regarding the Raft with you."
The captain's eyebrows rose, not a little shocked by his words. He had figured that Ross would maintain his stance to the bitter end, that he would only have more demands for them and vitriol to spew. It was something else entirely to see him there, proverbial cap in hand and looking for a compromise.
If Hill was just as surprised as him, she did a better job of hiding it. "Unless the conditions of your previous offer have changed, we can't agree to anything you propose."
Now Ross was looking as though he were chewing on tacks, a single fist clenching along the arm of the chair as he cleared his throat.
"Things...have changed since then. The news of the construction and opening of the facility have not gone over as well as we had hoped." That was putting it mildly. Since its unveiling that winter, the secretary had been met with harsh criticism and internal inquiries about the Raft's existence. On the whole, it had been deemed necessary, as he had concluded, but his participation in the enterprise was met with reticence. Whispers and mentions about his experiments years ago, his brutal treatment of those in his employ during the the attempted recreation of the super-soldier serum, were surfacing frequently. And that hadn't even touched the media speculation. His blood boiled at the thought, but he managed to keep his frustration in check as he continued to speak. "The legitimacy of the endeavor has been called into question, by many groups. I wish to rectify that. And, like it or not, it would serve your purposes to use it, too. People like Zemo cannot be held in a typical prison, no matter how draconian the legal system is in the home countries of the offenders. There is a great need for the Raft, especially nowadays."
Rogers exhaled slowly; it was all he could do to mute the scoff it had almost become.
"I won't disagree with the need, but the motives aren't exactly something I can get behind. That we can get behind," he stated firmly, meeting the ex-general's baleful gaze. He'd had enough of understatement and banter. Striding forward, the blond man bluntly laid all the cards on the table. "We're not idiots, Ross. What, and who, you really built that prison for is not lost on any of us. You want our endorsement so badly? Cede control totally to the United Nations and the World Security Council, and remove yourself from the management of the facility. Before they choose to take action themselves. If you are truly concerned with the safety of the world, with the safety of the people who inhabit it, then you should be able to do that much, don't you think?"
The last question was given with a mocking tilt of the head, the bright blue gaze narrowing further as Ross sat slack-jawed. A few seconds passed, with mottled red flooding the secretary's face, and the man fully glared at him.
"You can't—" he started, his steam gathered and ready to launch a verbal assault at the captain.
"Neither can you," Steve broke in, the last of his patience drawn upon. "But you did, anyway."
"At the expense of the taxpayers and by whatever other means you utilized. And in international waters, no less," Maria concurred, albeit in a calmer tone.
"We had permission," the secretary retorted, his jaw set mulishly as he attempted to cling to the shreds of his dignity. Spotting the minute shift of his gaze, Steve allowed himself to scoff that time.
"But not the approval that matters," he intimated, having heard the rumors of the lower levels of government that the ex-general had to coerce, the lower members who had supported him having no great reputations. It had gotten the job done, but not in the way the fellow wanted. Not in the way that involved support from the world's elite task force. Ross clenched his teeth, choosing to say nothing instead of admitting the truth. After letting the silence hang for several seconds, the captain murmured, "Again, if you really care about the world, part of which you helped make the way it is, you will do this. Otherwise, you're right; I can't do anything about it."
"You need us, Rogers," the ex-general retaliated, a hand flapping in the air. "If you refuse, that leaves you with the risk that the Sokovians will put Zemo somewhere less secure. He could get free, and then what?"
Ross's jaw snapped shut, the confirmation of Sokovia wanting the Avengers to support their decision coming out all too easily due to his rage. With his placidity in a death grip, Steve felt the blood in his face heat up exponentially.
"Then we'll find him again. Hopefully before the King of Wakanda does. I've heard the justice system there is a lot more clear-cut than in other places, and as internalized as the country is, if T'Challa gets to him first..."
The declaration was left hanging, allowing the ex-general to fill in the gaps for himself. Exhaling sharply, the older man tightened his fist for a long moment, loosening it as he let the anger drain from his face.
"What you're asking for...if I choose to entertain your notions, how would it be explained to the public?" he queried, squinting at them both. If they wanted that solution, then they had to provide the answers as well. To that, the captain lowered his hands, resting them along his belt.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to spin the story to come out in your favor. You've done it before," he said, the not-so-oblique reference to the past causing the other man to bristle.
"Call it a gift to the world, at the nation's behest," Hill interjected, doing her best to stop the confrontation from turning into a physical brawl. Though the 'gift' would engender plenty of paperwork and motions, it would be better for all involved if the changes could occur. Particularly if Ross could pretend that he was being magnanimous about it. "I'm sure you'd be compensated well for your generosity."
A beat of silence, then two, ticked by, and Ross let out an exasperated moan at the steely gazes directed towards him.
"Never go into politics, Captain," he grumbled aloud, reaching down to fetch up his briefcase.
Steve hummed under his breath. "Believe me, Mr. Secretary, I know where my strengths lie."
Occupying himself with checking the latches, the older man shot a glance to the base director. "You do know that I will be keeping a close eye on everything done with the Raft, if I surrender my wardenship?"
Maria inclined her chin, tapping a button on her desk to summon her assistant. "We wouldn't expect otherwise, sir."
Blinking, the secretary continued through the motions of preparing himself to leave, rising from his chair without ceremony. As he pivoted on his heel, Steve let him get a foot or two away before speaking again.
"I will tell Hawley to expect your call."
Stopping, Ross glanced over his shoulder at him, his eyebrows rising. "I didn't agree to anything."
"I know. I also know you will call her, regardless of that," the captain answered, his tone almost placating. "Better that she knows ahead of time, either way. Have a safe flight home, Secretary Ross."
The door swung open, the young lady on the other side smiling politely as the ex-general gave clipped nods in farewell to the captain and director. The clack of his shoes was followed by the clicks of her heels as she guided him back towards the exit and his jet. Left in the quiet for a second or two, Hill exhaled in relief before shooting a significant look at the captain.
"Sure you don't want to reconsider your position on politics, Rogers?"
That made Steve laugh, though there was very little humor in it.
"Oh, definitely not. I have other things to take care of right now," he pointed out. Staring off in the direction that Ross had gone, he wondered, "Think he'll agree?"
"We'll see," she responded, a thumb tapping against the glass desktop. Chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment, she exclaimed, "Convoluted as it is, Ross actually is trying to help protect the world. Maybe he'll see what's necessary to do that, now."
Inhaling deeply, Steve could only lift a shoulder in response to her tepid optimism. Perhaps a resolution could be reached, Rogers mused privately as he bid farewell to Hill himself, going back to his office to attend to the reports waiting for him. Maybe, for once, it would be alright. They would know soon enough, and in the meantime, he had work to do.
xXxXxXx
A midweek meeting was called, all the active Avengers in the room for the first time in days. The business of the last month had to be reviewed, bases to be touched and matters to be settled. Steve sat at the head of the table, his bright gaze lingering on each teammate, each friend, as Hill passed around sheet with the topics they needed to go over listed upon them. Sam had returned the week prior, his sling exchanged for a wrap as he went through the necessary therapy for his broken collarbone. As he chatted idly with Lang, the older man leaned back lackadaisically in his chair, just an inch or two from falling backward. With one hand extended towards him, Wanda otherwise was focusing on fixing the collar on the Vision's sweater with the other, her green eyes sliding to scarlet and back as she did so. Shaking his head, he glanced at Bucky and Natasha, the pair of them in low-voiced conference as ever. However, he did catch his friend's hand slipping below the edge of the table, not to return even after Hill called them all to attention. Just another meeting, though he knew better than to really consider it as such.
First on the docket was the progress being made in the city. While Hill herself could not speak much on the matter, she did report that construction was moving ahead, with clarification on several actions deferred to Bucky. The ex-assassin had stated that some of the United Nations members had approached him with the idea of further expansion, or at least to assign some elite guards to be part of security from that moment on. Fury was contemplating the proposal, while Bucky asserted that they should get used to what they had already before attempting any more changes. The urge to laugh sardonically was quelled, shoved down as it bubbled in Steve's chest. From there, it moved onto Ross's compromise, and the ultimatum that had been thrown down. Given how things had happened the first time around, the team was more than pleased with the idea that the Raft could soon be under new management and provide them with a better option for detainment. Maria, tapping a pen against the table, shifted conversation back to team alterations. With Rhodey's resignation processed and accepted, Stark had called in, saying that he was willing to take his place. At least, on a part-time basis, as he was still mired in the middle of a few crucial deals for Stark Industries and keeping an eye on Parker's progress. Another assessment of the kid's abilities was called for, and he would be up by the end of the month to check in with them. Time wound down, with Steve contributing very little to the proceedings, preoccupied as it was.
Soon enough, though, Hill was asking if there was any further business to discuss before breaking, her bright gaze darting to him, and so he stood, clearing his throat.
"Everyone...after the events of last month, I've had time to think about the direction this team is going. The direction I am going," he began, the well of nervousness cresting little by little in his chest. "And while I still believe we are ultimately heading towards the same goal, my path has been changing."
"No kidding, Daddy-to-Be," Wanda teased lightly, comfortable enough with her position to do so nowadays. Snickering, Steve shot her a smirk and pointed a finger at her.
"Exactly." Glancing to his right, he tipped his head towards Maria and indicated, "I have spoken to Hill and Fury about alterations of the team's structure for the future."
Unable to help himself, Sam snorted. "Seems to be an ever-present theme today."
Steve's smirk turned into a rueful grin, and he sighed.
"For a reason. After a lot of deliberation, I have decided to step down as a field leader." The ring of shocked expressions staring back at him were almost unnerving. He didn't blame them for it; when he first considered the option all those months ago, he had known that the idea was not going to accepted so easily. Not that they took his service for granted, but it was clear that they did not think he would ever step down from his position in such a way. However, it wasn't as simple as just walking away. There was more to it than that. After allowing the words to sink in for a few moments, Steve coughed and continued, "I'll be accepting a different role in the coming months. Instead of being Captain America, I'll be a commander. More of my time will be spent here working, and not in the field. With exceptions being world catastrophes."
Leaving the organization entirely was the opening option, to persuade Fury and Hill to see things his way and for compromises to be reached. It had never been his intent to just cut ties and walk away, not without something to ease the transition. It had been his stipulation to Fury when he had balked at the idea, when he had tried to dissuade him from pursuing the course. Either a promotion to a less combative role inside, or to let him go. His life was changing, his priorities were changing, and for once, he did not want to be the one to bend. He had given so much to the world, to the Avengers; they could afford to give back, at least in that regard.
"So you're leaving us, yet not leaving us," Scott muttered, walking through what was happening out loud. Not to say that he was unintelligent or anything, but it did help him clear up any possible confusion he could have with it all.
"Not except for a few weeks of paternity leave, which is within my legal rights as an employee here according to my contract," Steve finished, his hands resting on his hips. Silence descended upon the room, the ticks of the clock on the wall practically echoing in the space.
"Commander Rogers," Bucky said, giving his friend a long look as he applied the title.
"But...what about...?" Lang tried to ask, gesturing wide for a moment. Picking up on his train of thought, Natasha cut in.
"Captain America has existed for decades. It's more than just a title; it's become an ideal," she stated calmly looking at each of the team members assembled. Comprehending nods were given, and she spiked an eyebrow at him. "Are you really gonna let that die?"
Rogers shook his head at that, his back stiffening as he glanced around the room.
"No. Believe me, there's nobody who understands the importance of the title more than I do. And it isn't going to die, not on my watch," he stated firmly. The others stared at him, curiosity at how he would accomplish such a thing after surrendering the title in the first place in their eyes. Holding up a palm, he told them, "There will still be a captain, a field leader. Ultimately, I am allowed to choose my successor, but...I couldn't pick just one. I want you all to vote on the choice, since you will be working with the person."
The youngest Maximoff sat forward, inclining her head. "I can agree to that. Who are the candidates?"
For a second or two, Rogers paused, his dramatic leanings extending the moment. Raising his chin, he eventually found the gumption to tell them.
"Sam Wilson, and James Barnes." If the initial announcement had them shocked, the second one had totally stunned them. Or, at the very least, it stunned the two men in question. Sam and Bucky gaped at him, the wonderment and startled looks on their faces plain. Slowly, Steve dipped his head in a nod, confirming that he had indeed chosen them. That in the end, he thought that both his friends deserved the role. Murmurs from the remaining team members filtered into his hearing, and he was forced to press on. Inhaling deeply, he insisted, "Both of them have proven themselves able and worthy of taking up the mantel of Captain America. You have time to discuss it all. I would like an answer no later than July 1st."
Deadline given, Steve adjourned the meeting, leaving them all in a state of contemplative shock. One that did not melt in the slightest even two days on. Among themselves, the team had decided to hold their own discourse on that Friday, after they took some time to consider everything Rogers had put to them. The afternoon sun of the day could not filter into the interior room, all of them filing into Natasha's office to do so. Once the privacy controls were on, and Tony Stark had been connected to her wall screen (with the upgrade in his status, he was entitled to sit in and contribute on the decision), they all looked to one another. They were no closer to a decision than on Wednesday, and could not simply pick.
"So, should we do this by secret ballot, or—?" Scott suggested, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. On his end, Tony tilted his head, eyeballing the ceiling just off-screen for a few seconds.
"It'd be a little difficult to do all the way out here, but sure, I'm game for that," he agreed, with Wanda nodding as well from her perch in one of the visitor's chairs. The Vision stood behind her, one hand placed along the back of it and his electric blue eyes scanning from one person to the next. Bucky and Sam shared a glance, both feeling a touch awkward at their futures being discussed in such a way. Barnes shifted in his stance beside Natasha, and Sam stared down at the toe of his boot as he squirmed in his chair. The red-haired ex-assassin shook her head, hooking a thumb into a pocket on her jeans.
"I think the two of them should decide," she proposed instead. In her reasoning, a vote could end up being split, and could extend the decision beyond the period in which they were given to decide. As well as that, the fairness of such an endeavor would be called into question, especially when it came to member loyalty. Impartiality could be achieved, but she did not think it likely. Not with everything that had come before. Shrugging her shoulders, she announced, "I can be an Avenger, regardless of who is in charge on the field. I have worked with both, and am willing to do so, no matter who it is."
Stark's eyes ricocheted between her and Barnes, the intensity of it burning them both.
"Just because you can, Romanoff, doesn't mean we will," the billionaire muttered darkly. Though significant progress had been made since that fateful day in December, it was safe to say that Barnes and Tony were not friends. The evidence of the change in the ex-assassin was undeniable, his quick action in taking command and taking care of those affected in the last month supplemented by his mission work and repentance prior. Like a certain missus had said, it was not about forgetting the past, but moving on towards forgiveness that mattered. Still, it was obvious that they were barely friendly acquaintances, and no matter what was decided, it would likely remain that way.
"Tony, we cannot allow previous biases to color our decisions. That is why Ms. Romanoff suggested another course," the Vision remarked, his accented voice at once steadying and off-putting. Stark's gaze darted to him, and his mouth clamped shut as an eyebrow rose ever-so-slightly. Picking up on the physical cue (he was doing so well after a year of life, he thought to himself), the android pointed out, "None of us is a saint, not even me, and to act otherwise is foolish."
For a long moment, the billionaire looked to them all, his chosen teammates. Each one had blood on their hands, as well as he. Spying the brief flicker across his irises, Natasha inclined her chin, drawing his attention again.
"Sam and Bucky need to figure it out," she said, her tone gentling. A glance flashed sideways, a small smile granted when Sam looked up at her. Deftly, her hand unhooked from her pocket, sliding into Bucky's and squeezing it. "I'll abide by whatever's decided."
The others murmured in agreement with the proposal, and after chewing the inside of his cheek for a long moment, Stark huffed out a breath.
"...Fine. You better go, then," he said, flapping a hand at both Barnes and Wilson to get to it.
The two men looked at one another before silently exiting the room. The unspoken agreement for them to maintain the quiet until they were out of earshot was upheld, even as they made their way to an embankment of windows in a far hall. Sam took to pacing a patch of carpet, while Bucky settled his hip along one of the panes, his arms crossing and his brow furrowing in thought.
"Wasn't expecting that," he breathed after a few minutes, attempting to clear the reeling in his mind. It had been there since the moment Steve had announced his intentions, his choices for his replacement, and it had not abated in the slightest. Of all the things he had expected Rogers to plan for, he had not thought he would deal with anything of that caliber. He was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that part him would like nothing better than the chance to prove himself further. However, there was always his past to consider. It would follow him until the day he died, and it would be moronic to ignore it in the face of this opportunity. He did not consider his friend to be an idiot in the slightest, but somebody had to question his wishes, and if it had to be him, then so be it. Wilson's hands slid into his pockets, and he snorted.
"No kidding."
Barnes met his dark gaze, commiseration in their forms for a moment. Tapping a thumb against the pane, the rhythmic click of the metal soothed some of the whirlwind inside.
"How do we decide this?" he asked, wishing that his girl had not bucked the choice onto them. Making them choose between themselves seemed almost cruel. Particularly as he could barely fathom making the choice in the first place. "Sparring match, best of three gets it?"
The joking nature of his last words barely elicited a smile, from Wilson or from himself. It was the best he had to offer, though, at that moment. Sam's pacing went on for a bit, long enough for Barnes to actually stare out the window. The bright green of the trees and the grass met his gaze, the blue of the sky beyond marred by a few clouds here and there, and he exhaled slowly.
"Or..." Sam began, picking up the thread, "I rescind my nomination."
His pacing came to a full stop just as Bucky's head swiveled to look at him. It had happened so fast, it was a wonder that he did not have whiplash afterward.
"What?" he stammered, unable to believe what he had heard. Wilson was giving up his chance? Letting him take it? He couldn't process it, even as the other man nodded.
"You heard me. Dude, think about it for a second," he implored Bucky, his dark gaze unyielding as he pinned him in place with it. "Whether anybody else realizes it or not, you have been working towards this since the day you got away from HYDRA. Probably before that, too."
"There was a contingency, during the war," he confessed quietly, the long-buried memory rising up from the dregs of his mind. The planning room in London, the long face of the colonel and the stern expression of Agent Carter as Rogers explained the importance of having a reserve in case he died on the job, it all floated up then. Coughing, he murmured, "If Steve had...he would've passed it onto me. But that was then."
"And this is now. Bucky, look at your progress," Sam said, asserting his position on the matter. He knew it would be a hard sell, and so was prepared to do whatever he could to make the other man see his side. He knew that Barnes's self-worth would always, invariably, be tied into his identity in some way. It was best to point out the positive aspects of it, so he could see why Steve had ultimately chosen him as a candidate again. "Look how far you've come. You still have work to do, but you've already done a lot. You've stepped up, proven that you can do this. We've seen the reports, dude. Who did command fall to when Steve was down? Not me."
"You were unconscious..." Bucky tried to point out. He knew what Sam was trying to do, but there was merit in having Wilson take on the mantle of the captain. His loyalty, his courage...his stubborn ability to overlook the flaws when the attributes needed attention, they were good qualities. In his mind, Sam more than likely deserved it over him. However, instead of being allowed to continue, the other man cut him off.
"It was not me, or Natasha, or Stark. Fury didn't take control, and neither did Hill. It was you." Despite his own injuries and recovery, Sam had kept himself informed on the aftermath of the attack. Word had reached him of Barnes's efforts, his insistence as acting as the go-between, of actively participating in the rebuild wherever he could. Sighing low, Wilson scratched at his neck, ready to finish the argument. "No matter what you think of yourself, or your past, you have earned this. Now, I'm not gonna say I don't think the idea of being the guy on top isn't appealing, but ultimately, I don't need it. You do."
Stormy blue eyes stared at him as he strode forward, clapped his hand on the fellow's left shoulder. Every word that followed hit him hard and fast, but Sam refused to relent until he had said his piece.
"I'm the Falcon, and damn proud to be that. You were the Winter Soldier, but that isn't you any longer. You need this. You need to be the captain now, and not the soldier."
With a final tap, Wilson removed his hand, the finality in his tone permeating the air. While the honor and prestige would have been something he could take on, Sam was honest enough with himself to know that it was more than that. Being Captain America was more than a title, like Natasha had pointed out. It was about the person within rising to the challenges facing them, no matter how weak or broken they were, and choosing to fight for the right, anyway. As it was, he was already fighting well enough as himself. He honestly did not feel like he needed it. Not the way Bucky did. Minutes stretched as they stood there, miring in all that was left unsaid, the churning of the minds increasing with each passing second.
Finally, after coming out of his own musings, Bucky looked at Sam again, taking a deep breath before answering.
"...But could you stand taking orders from me?" he wondered, the barest hint of a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. Sam finally cracked one in return.
"What do you think, old man?" he retorted, snickering to himself as Bucky grumbled under his breath. When the joviality petered off, he extended his hand out to him. Taking it, Barnes shook Wilson's hand, the decision made and the deal sealed. The pair of them returned to Natasha's office, telling them the news. Stark had stared at them both, inevitably declaring that he would accept it, but only because it meant he could keep a closer eye on Barnes than before. The others were less opposed to the decision, and once they were all agreed, the two sergeants left again. Turning the corner, they could see through the walls of Steve's office, spying him at his desk with his phone coming down from his ear. Noticing them after a few minutes, he beckoned them to enter, the seriousness of their expressions matched by his.
"Guys?" he asked, blond eyebrow spiking, and Barnes inhaled sharply, preparing to take the plunge that would bring him into newer territory.
xXxXxXx
Holly hummed under her breath as she stretched out on the couch, another round of pregnancy yoga finished that Friday evening. She had never been terribly partial to the exercise before the baby, but she reckoned she had to do something to keep herself limber enough and in check. It was quite a step down from her efforts two years prior, with the batting cage sessions and the jogs on treadmills, but it was safer for the little one that way. And better overall, given how much she was prone to eat in one sitting with him. The doctors Watson and Cho had thought that her increased appetite was above the average pregnant mother's, agreeing that it was most likely due to baby seemingly inheriting part of his father's metabolism. (It was either that, or she was being a pig, but they were polite enough not to put it that way.) Still, when it was all over, she was glad to be collapsed in the cushions, flicking the television off and swiping away the sweat on her brow. Having moved onto the seven-to-nine months portion of the DVD, it wasn't like going for the super-advanced poses of typical yoga, but she was carrying precious, heavy cargo. Her mat was kicked to the side, the chair she had used for balance pushed in front of the record player, and the coffee table was still flush against the entertainment system. Taking a swig out of her water bottle before dropping it onto the floor, she hiked up her shirt to cool off as she scrolled through her phone.
No new messages, no new emails. She did tap into the apps to double-check, lingering on a few specific ones. A tiny smile graced her lips as she looked at Kay's return message, her excuse for not coming out and joining her that time being an evening out with Sam. She didn't begrudge her friend that; the pair had finally started to work out the kinks that had stalled them in April, and were much happier because of it. Besides, she promised to bring her a treat the next time they had lunch together at the office as an apology. Not really necessary in her mind, but Holly wasn't about to turn down offered food. Beneath that was a string of texts from Sarah, confirming that the hook-up on her end was successful, and that Holly would be able to tap into the bachelorette party shenanigans the following night. Due to her going on maternity leave at the end of the next month, Holly was neck deep in projects at the base on top of making finishing touches to her novel. It would be nearly impossible for her to get away, and so she had been forced to make an alternate plan in regards to planning Sarah's hen night. With the help of her friend's fiance, they were able to get a web-cam hooked up and ready for part of the events. She couldn't make the trip down to Virginia for the weekend, for the dinner and the bar they would hit, but she would be on tap to man the games at her hotel room. That, and to watch Sarah's face when the male dancer showed up (she hoped it would measure up to the price she'd paid to hire the guy for her best friend). Chuckling to herself as she pictured the visual, it took her a moment to notice Steve watching her. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a small smile playing over his lips.
"Steve?" she squeaked, sitting up and pulling her shirt back down (it was aired out enough, and she didn't like any extra attention to be paid to the stretchmarks now littering her skin). As was common in their lives, she had beaten him home after work. Given the message he'd sent her earlier, she'd assumed he would be back much later than he was. Swinging her bare feet onto the floor, she raked a hand through her messy hair, the sweaty ponytail tightened after she dropped her phone in her lap. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I got that," he murmured, smirking slightly. It faded after a moment, his blue eyes staring at a point over her head. Eventually, he shook his head, as if forcing himself back into the present. Coming forward, he stepped over her crumpled mat and sat down beside her. Meeting her curious expression, he relayed, "They, they decided. On who will become field leader."
Her eyebrows inclined. So that was why he'd stayed on later at the base. Most likely had to get things prepped and ready for the days to come. There was going to be a mountain of paperwork involved, as well as meetings with the secondary team and Hawley, and the lawyers would have to be contacted due to licensing (all the team members had rights now, earning an income off of their "brands." Most of them chose to donate a good portion of the excess to charities, her husband included), and other matters. Having been told this, Holly was surprised that Steve and the others would be starting much earlier than anticipated.
"Already?" she muttered aloud, her brow furrowing as she pondered it. "All of them came to an agreement?"
Steve's eyes flicked away, a small grimace upon his lips for a brief few seconds.
"Well, if not total agreement, they at least came to an understanding," he explained. Though Tony had shown marked progress in his dealings with them, it still took convincing to accept the choice made between Sam and Bucky. Not as much as it would have taken several months ago, if he had presented the plans then, but some. For his part, the billionaire had declared himself as part-time, and that their choice was theirs, in the end. He would stick around to make sure that they never regretted making the choice. It would be tough to forge ahead as a team, but he would not stop them.
"And?" Holly prompted him, his silence stretching on too long for her liking.
"It's Bucky," he breathed, his voice still airy. The shock at the rapidity of the decision had not quite worn off. Little by little, the situation was dawning on him, the plan coming fully to fruition in reality as well as in his mind. Leaning back into the couch cushion, he sighed. "At the end of the month, he'll be Captain America."
"That's...it's...it's hard to picture, the title belonging to somebody else," she stated plainly, a finger coming up and trailing over the scar on her forehead. Steve would no longer be the captain. The Star Spangled Man with a Plan was passing the shield onto someone else, officially. Even though she knew of the endeavor before he put it to the team, it still was a lot to take in. Gently, he clasped her hand, pulling it away from her scar and resting it in her own lap.
"It will be a little strange for awhile, but it's for the best," he said, firmness in his tone. She looked at him, studied his face for any flickers of hesitation or doubt.
"You sure?" she wondered, not for the first time. It was another thing he would be giving up, and not just for himself. However, he held her gaze, dipping his chin; he had considered it worth the cost that time.
"Yes."
They sat in the quiet that followed for a minute or two, with Holly reaching out and idly picking a couple stray hairs off his shirt. Her lips began to shape into a smile as she did so.
"Well, if anybody is due for a promotion, I would think it would be you," she declared when she'd finished her task, earning a snort from him. "After waiting for one since 1945."
"If you wanna get technical, it's been since '43," he retorted, the memory of the day of his true promotion coming through for a few seconds. Turning his mind back to the present, he went on, "It's certainly one way to look at it. Even if it's just a non-military rank change."
That was true; as far as his standing in the army went, he would remain a captain. For a moment, he imagined how Colonel Phillips would have reacted to his artificial title. Gruff muttering and an eye roll no doubt, before sending him out on a mission and pointedly calling him by the rank he himself had bestowed upon him in Italy.
"Just a rank change," she mumbled, shaking her head. It was more than that, but as they were both aware of that fact, she decided not to push it. Instead, she shrugged and said, "You'll still be there."
"More importantly, I'll be here." He tipped her chin up with a finger, tapping the skin lightly as their gazes locked. "Think you can put up with me on a more regular basis?"
Holly squinted at Steve thoughtfully, tilting her head to the left and struggling to suppress a grin.
"Dunno. What's my incentive if I do?"
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, taking a moment to consider the answer. Playfulness lit up his irises when he looked back at her.
"Well, I love you. Is that enough?" he asked, his gaze warming further as it ran over her. Taking a hand in his and lacing the fingers together, he shrugged when she did not answer right away. "If not, I'll throw in being around to take out the garbage more often."
"Sold," she blurted immediately, sealing the deal with a peck on the lips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Chuckling as he held her close, he felt the smile curving her lips as she pressed a kiss against the column of his neck. Resting her head in the crook, he caught the muffled murmur as she continued, "Your first offer was more than enough, by the way. Love you, too."
Wanting to sink deeper into her embrace, he was caught off-guard when she suddenly withdrew. As her hands stabilized along the edge of the couch and she did the two-part shuffling push up, he spiked an eyebrow.
"Where are you going?"
Mentally cheering herself for performing the action so swiftly, she grinned over her shoulder at him as she walked towards the arch and into the kitchen.
"Gonna get the top tier from the freezer," she said, the matter-of-fact tone of it making the eyebrow spike higher. Making her way to the appliance, she began to rifle through the frozen meals and vegetables within. In a small, airtight container in the back, was the top portion of their wedding cake. It was saved for a different purpose entirely, but she could not think of anything better to commemorate the moment with. Pulling it out, she removed the lid and began to shake it a little to loosen it as she raised her voice. "Granted, we'll have to wait until it totally defrosts, but I think it's worth it."
She caught his muted, humor-filled scoff, wriggling it free to put on a proper plate as he called out, "Even though our anniversary isn't for another ten days?"
Inwardly, she gave him brownie points for that, bringing the plate over to the island and resting it on top. Tugging on the plastic surrounding the confection, she gingerly placed it on the plate and examined it. The tier was devoid of decoration, save for the drops of icing ringing it. A soft grin danced over her mouth as she spotted the slight indentation on it, where the topper bearing their initials had sat. Tapping a thumb against it, the iciness of it pierced her for a second or two.
"Trial run, to see if we'll need to pick up something else for the day of," she began to explain, leaving the frozen cake to thaw on its own. Returning to the living room, she went behind the sofa, resting an elbow on it and trailing a finger along a cushion. Canting her head, she also confessed, "But also celebration. A beer after dinner isn't enough, I think, and we don't have any other treats right now. And...and you're doing this for..."
She trailed off, the sentimentality of the moment finally catching up with her. Swallowing hard and willing herself not to give in (she had cried more often in the last four months than she had in the last four years, and frankly she was tired of it), she failed to notice as he rose from his seat, maneuvering around the furniture and stopping behind her. One forearm laid over her collarbone, drawing her back against him as his palm cupped over her shoulder. The other hand traced along the swell of her stomach. It lingered there for several moments before rising up, reaching the flyaway hair by her ear and tucking it back.
"Alright, top tier it is, sweetheart," he conceded, nuzzling into her hair for couple seconds before pulling back. Mildly, he suggested that they kill the time in separate pursuits: he would scrounge up some dinner, and she would get in a good shower that she clearly needed. Swatting his arm, she stuck her tongue out at his teasing smile as she went to do that, a chuckle or two floating down the stairwell as she headed for the bathroom. The stray tears that had wormed their way up into her eyes fell with the hot water, washed down the drain. Cleaned up and changed into something less...sweaty...she meandered back to him, where two plates were loaded with leftovers at the table, the air conditioning clicking and blowing to fend off the rise of the early summer heat. It took all of their time in dinner and a few hours for the cake to defrost enough for them to cut off a couple of sections—aided in part by precise and careful heating in the microwave. Once they'd hacked off their pieces, they stood at the counter, staring down at the confection and wondering silently who would start. Glimpsing him out the corner of her eye, she nodded once before driving a fork into the cake, bringing out a small chunk to begin with.
"Happy pre-anniversary, and congrats, Commander," Holly toasted, holding out her loaded utensil out towards him with a smile. The touch of his new title being added made him duck his head briefly, and she giggled. "To many more years."
"To the future," Steve returned, raising his fork and tapping it gently against hers. Salute made, they both indulged. All in all, it wasn't bad for being frozen for almost a full year (and slightly microwaved, but still), and so he dug in for another bite. Chewing around his renewed mouthful, he mumbled, "You're still gonna have to wait for your gift, by the way."
"Oh, crap," she groaned playfully, rolling her eyes at his smug grin and taking a second bite for herself. In that way, the evening passed, both man and woman looking ahead to the days to come.
A/N: To the future, indeed...
Just a friendly reminder that the section with Secretary Ross was written with little understanding of world politics and bureaucracy. I understand that what is being requested of him would generally require several motions, months of debate, and mountains of legal actions to consider, but this is just the beginning of the process. And with a little wheel-greasing, the whole thing could be expedited. Just take it all with the sense of suspending your disbelief, as ever.
Bucky becoming Captain America has been the plotted endgame since the beginning of this story (since the end of The Eleventh Hour, truth be told). And while I respect the fact that some will not agree with that, in the end, it will not change as far as this universe is concerned. This is Bucky's redemption, and he will finally step over the threshold to become more. And Steve will become Commander Rogers...taking inspiration from the Secret Avengers, there, though not in respect to taking the field like he used to. It's also my headcanon that Steve got a true promotion after rescuing the troops at the factory. I don't recall at this moment if that is ever confirmed in canon (other than the one that was bestowed upon him for his stage days), but given that he's called Captain Rogers on occasion, I think that is the case.
Next chapter, we get to see both him and Bucky take on their new titles. ;-)
With the tone of this chapter, it probably is raising a few questions in your minds. One of which is probably: are we getting close to the end? And another being: is Holly gonna have the baby already?!
I'll level with you guys—the answer is yes, to both of those questions. The end is coming very soon to By First Light, in roughly three chapters or so. Holly will be having the baby before this is over, as well. However, I will tell you that...I don't intend this to be the last story for the growing Rogers family, nor the changing Avengers.
Yes, a fourth installment is planned, wherein the plot is going to be a lot looser, sort of like interconnecting one-shots that will take place over the first year of Holly and Steve's son's life. The plot will be looser due to the fact that I have been going for two years (with very few breaks) and working out lines and connecting them, and frankly, I need to relax a bit. I intend for it to be a lighter load, though I don't intend to sacrifice effort or anything on my part. It will be more along the lines of family/friendship, with romance, drama, and action thrown in on occasion. Essentially, it will be more slice-of-life in nature than anything else. It will center on Steve and Holly, and their little boy, but I will not neglect the others while I'm writing it. Seriously, I intend to include the Avengers of this expanded universe, too. That's in prep mode at the moment, but I wanted you all to know that it is coming. Title is pending; I'll have more info to impart later on that and other things.
Lastly: I hope you're all doing well. I know some of you have started a new semester as school recently (whether it is secondary or post-secondary), while others have gotten busy with your lives for various other reasons. I sincerely hope each and every one of you is okay, and if not, you are finding a way through it to become okay. I do care about you guys, truly.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.)
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!