Chapter 15: The Son I Never Knew

AN: this one is going to dig into those little details of the time in between Steve crashing the plane and waking up. Secrets are going to be revealed and Steve is going to learn about some things that will make him question things he never thought to question.

Edit note 3-10-21: I am so sorry it took this long to update! I changed jobs when I would have updated last time in October and I suddenly had no desire to work on it for 6 months. Again Sorry! Writer's block sucks!

On to the fic

When Peggy had told Steve to live his life, Steve tried. He really did. His days were spent working with SHIELD doing missions and the occasional press conference, which Steve absolutely hated just as much as he did in the forties. The bright flash bulb flares were replaced with the quick flashes, and shutter clicks of modern cameras, but Steve still felt like he was a dancing monkey standing on a stage. He'd flinch ever so slightly if they came to close and flashed those cameras in his face, and for a brief second he was on the front again, before the world righted and he was back on stage. Steve always felt like he was on stage, never once did he have the chance to take off the mask and shed the image that was carefully crafted for the world. Only at home did he have the chance to be himself, if only for a little while and when he went on the town. He'd dress in the most inconspicuous clothes he had and go for a ride, taking in the sights seeing the monuments and memorials before he'd inevitably find himself wandering through the many buildings of the Smithsonian. Every time he went, he'd go to a different exhibit, but he would find his way back to the exhibit about him and his team. He'd stare at their pictures and the video clips of them for a few hours, staring the longest at Bucky's little corner and special memorial, before sitting down to watch Peggy's interview and eventually going home.

Home felt colder and emptier ever since Andrew had become a full-time agent. His little boy rarely came home any more, spending most of his time at the office or on the road, and when he did it was merely a stopover to get some rest before the next assignment. Those stopovers, brief as they were, felt as if they breathed life back into Steve. He'd take Andrew out to diner usually to their favorite dinner, an old '50s style retro joint that reminded Steve of home and had the best milkshakes in the DC metro area, and they'd sit down and talk. Once they'd caught up, they'd go home, sit down together on the sofa, where Andrew would curl into Steve's side, after Steve would switch on the Hi-Fi with his favorite record, and simply talk about his concerns and worries.

"Sometimes I think it's all too much, ya know," Andrew said, his head tucked into Steve's chest. "The more I work these cases, the more I pull on those threads, the more I see just how bad it really is." He signed and Steve looked down to see a look of quiet despair on his son's face.

"It can't be all that bad," Steve said. "You're there. You have your team, and a whole group of people who are willing to help you deal with those few corrupted agents or officers. You're doing good work, Andrew. It's just gonna take some time." Steve pressed a kiss to Andrew's crown, and laid his cheek on his head with a contented smile. Moments like these were few and far between but Steve cherished every bit of them.

"It's not that, Ada," Andrew said, then let out a frustrated sign, "it's the… contempt, the disrespect that we get, as if we're the bad guys. It's hard sometimes… to not be trusted like that." Steve sighed and pulled Andrew up to look him in the eye.

"Andrew, listen," he said, "You have a difficult job. You have to investigate people that might be corrupt, might be murderers, or on the take. Those kinds of people are going to be suspicious, distrustful, and hateful. You're sticking your nose into their business, and they don't like it, because they're scared that you might find out the truth. In my experience, people that are scared of… well, the cops, they usually have something to hide. And people who are scared can become desperate and sloppy. They make mistakes, and it's those mistakes that you have to find and use against them. People that have broken the law, even cops, will try to hide it, bury it, or disguise it. It's your job to find the buried bones, the skeletons in the closet, the dirty money, and make sure they are brought to justice." Andrew smiled and chuckled. "What," Steve asked.

"It's nothing," Andrew said as he wiped away the tears in his vision, "you just always know what to say." Andrew looked up with a sly smile, "you sure you don't have this stuff written down somewhere?" Steve chuckled and mock swatted at Andrew's head. The younger man ducked away with a cheeky grin, and Steve pulled him back in for a tight hug.

"It's gonna be okay, Andrew," Steve said after a moment of silence.

Steve's visits to the Smithsonian tended to be long roaming walks around the complexes before turning back to the Air and Space Museum. Even before he knew that they were going to set up some exhibit about him and his team, he was always drawn to the planes and space capsules. It seemed like something that Bucky would have loved, and so Steve thought it quite fitting that the Captain America exhibit was there.

This time he had gone right to the exhibit, not wandering, no leisurely walk around the grounds, just right there. Bucky's part of the exhibit was getting an update, after Steve had seen some errors on his first walk around, and Today was the day the exhibit reopened after the changes were completed. There were a lot of kids and their parents at the exhibit, as was usual, but there were also groups of kids in what appeared to be on a class trip. Steve had to smile at the novelty of a class trip. Most of the kids were in grammar school ages, but there was one group that had kids ranging from pre-teen to high-school student, and they were being led around by a very familiar face. Steve grinned as he walked up to the man. Even if he had to blow his cover, it would be worth it to talk to his old buddy.

"Howlett," Steve said as he came up to the man. He was wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans, with what he came to learn were called biker boots. His hair was still as dark as he remembered, combed back to frame his face, and his face covered in a few days of growth, especially at his jaw, giving him those classic side-burns that came all the way down to his chin. In his mouth was clenched a long cigar, unlit but still gipped between his teeth in the way he always did when he was irritated. The man turned and cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him, and Steve grinned. "Logan Howlett," Steve said, "my God, it really is you! How ya doin'?"

"do I know you," Logan asked, and Steve's smile dimmed a little but didn't fade, before he took off his hat and brushed down his hair into some semblance of what it used to look like.

"It's Steve Rogers," he said, "Captain Rogers. We fought in the War together." There was a look of confusion before a glimmer of recognition and memory flashed through the brunette's eyes.

"Captain Rogers," Logan said with a grin and pulled Steve in for a hug. He sniffed Steve's collar before he pulled back, "yeah, it's you." Steve grinned and laughed. "You still wear that damn aftershave." Steve's grin turned downright cheeky as he looked Logan up and down.

"You're one to talk," Steve shot back with a smirk, "I don't think you've changed your look since the War." Logan nodded his assent, but couldn't help but salvo back.

"It's a good look, why change it?" to this Steve could only laugh and pull his old buddy in for a hug.

"Professor Logan, we're gonna be heading to the displays," a young boy said, and Steve pulled back to look over at a youngster in his mid-teens, possibly around 15, still going through his growth-spurt if the gangly coltish look about him was any indicator. He had dark blond hair and blue eyes, and for a moment Steve thought that he was looking at a younger version of his father, before he blinked and saw the differences. It seemed that he wasn't the only one that noticed the similarities, only the boy seemed to realize just who his chaperone was being affectionate with, when his eyes widened to saucers and his jaw dropped open. Steve smiled warmly and pressed a discrete finger to his lips to have him stay quiet and calm. After a few seconds to gaping like a fish, the boy nodded and looked at Logan with wide awed eyes. "You didn't tell me you knew Captain America, professor," he said quietly.

"Professor, Logan," Steve said to his old friend, and to his amusement Logan actually looked uncomfortable at this. This fact also made Steve's teasing grin even broader, much to the elder man's chagrin.

"I work as a teacher at the Xavier's Institute," the man answered.

"He's the best," the boy exclaimed, and Steve turned back to his old comrade with a raised eyebrow, "he teaches us survival techniques, and trains with the older and younger kids in self-defense classes." Steve turned from his old friend to look at the boy again. He had the same giddiness in his eyes that Bucky used to have when taking him to some new science fair, or reading about some big medical breakthrough that would change medicine. He also had Steve's own quiet determination about him, and something else that reminded Steve eerily of his father.

"Oh, he does, does he," Steve asked, side eying his friend. Logan rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, before Steve smirked and looked back at the boy. "Steve Rogers," he said as he held out his hand to the boy. The teen grinned and grasped Steve's hand in his own, a surprisingly firm grip.

"Joseph," he said. The teen gave him a cheeky look and suddenly Steve was seeing his father again, grinning cheekily at his mother, before Steve blinked and the image was gone. "You wanna give us the dime tour?" Steve heard Logan snort in suppressed laughter, as a startled smile pulled on his lips.

"You know what," Steve said as he turned to look at the propaganda littering the walls and thinking about his old team, "why not. It'll give us some time to talk and Logan and I to catch up. Whadda ya say, Howlett, you up to telling these kids the real story of Captain America and the Howling Commandoes?" Logan just rolled his eyes, but the fond smile on his face belied his true feelings on this matter.

"Yes," the teen cheered as he leaped for joy, crowing some major victory before composing himself with a blush. "Um, I mean, lead the way, Captain Rogers." Steve grinned.

"Just Steve, kid," Steve said. "Joseph, is that your full name. My son said there were a lot of Run-aways at the Institute. He used to go there." Logan looked at Steve with a curious look on his face, but Joseph answered first.

"Actually, it's my first name," he said, "It's Joseph Arthadan Rogers." Steve felt himself stop short, his smile faltering as he looked at Joseph with a critical eye. "What's his name," he continued, oblivious to the shock he just delivered to the man he obviously admired. "Maybe I knew him."

"He's before your time," Steve said numbly. Joseph laughed, and he sounded just like Bucky.

"I'm actually a lot older than I look," he said, turning to look at Steve, "Something about my biological parents being not quite human. Professor Xavier thinks that they might be Numenorean."

"Biological parents," Steve asked. There was a tremor in his voice, hesitation and hope.

"Yeah," Joseph said with a light blush. "I live with my foster parents up in Westchester County. My mother gave me up when I was a baby, I've lived with them ever since. They're graduates at the Institute." Steve stared at the boy with a growing weight in his chest, examining the boy's every feature, cataloguing everything that he said and how he moved.

"My, uh," Steve started then cleared his suddenly dry throat, "my son's name is Yasha." Joseph smiled again and Steve felt himself go numb. That was his father's smile, those were his eyes. Steve pointed out one of the displays and told the un-edited version of the story, before Joseph spoke again.

"Yasha's my brother, ya know," he said, and again Steve's world came to a screeching halt. His head snapped over to look at the boy with wide eyes. Joseph blushed and snorted in repressed chortles, "not my real brother, but, ya know. We have a Big Brother Big Sister program at the school, for those kids who have issues; and trust me; a lot of them have issues. It helps the more volatile be grounded, have a stable relationship with a sibling figure. A lot of them had their families reject whole sale, not just their parents, but siblings too. having one of them kids that came from a stable home as a surrogate sibling gives them a bit of that relationship back that they lost." He looked at Steve and saw the shocked and lost look in his eyes. He raised his hands placating, and reassured him. "It wasn't like that for Yasha," he said. "Yasha came to the school from a good home. I suppose you know, being his dad and all, about him being … different." Steve nodded. "Well, Yasha had a stable home, but mentally he just needed a little help. He was engineered to be the perfect soldier, to be submissive and all that but still authoritative enough to give orders. Getting over those mental hurdles of being nothing and just a weapon were hard, but I like to think that me, being his brother and talking to him, kid to kid, the way adults can't; I like to think I helped." He looked at Steve with those big blue eyes, pleading for reassurance, and Steve found that mound of dread and suspicion easing a little in his chest.

"You did," Steve said, and couldn't help but smile at the thought of his son. "Yasha's a good egg. He has his issues, but he's pretty stable, I'd say." Joseph grinned widely his whole form practically glowing with incandescent joy. His dad used to smile like that; Steve thought before he cleared his throat and smiled at the teen.

"That's great," he said. "We still talk sometimes. He mentioned that his Ada was alive and that he met him a few years back, right after the Battle of New York. I guess that'd be the reason he knows you're alive and all." Joseph chuckled weakly and cleared his throat. "He was my first, you know, surrogate brother. We're real close." Joseph's face became soft and pensive. "Always were, like real brothers. When he started looking older than me, it got a little hard to be the older brother figure; but somehow, I think he still looks up to me as a big brother." He chuckled and looked at Steve with a wry smile.

"And I still do," a voice said from behind. Steve and Joseph turned to see Yasha with a broad grin pulling across his face and a suspicious sheen to his eyes.

"Yasha," Joseph said with a grin and rushed to hug his brother, while Steve stood dumbstruck by the image of the pair. Joseph looked so much like him, and Yasha, while he looked less, Steve could still see the similarities. It was enough to place a suspicious kernel of thought into his mind, and have it take root. The two pulled apart and grinned at each other. "I didn't know you were in town. When did you get here?" Yasha simply grinned.

"Not that long ago," he said, "brought you something I thought you might like." Yasha pulled out a nondescript white box marked with a single black "s" on the top. Steve had no idea what it was, but Joseph obviously does because he gasped and grabbed the box right out of Yasha's hands.

"Is this what I think it is," he asked, and tore into the box, opening the lid to find a thin plate of glass and metal resting inside. "It is!" he practically squealed with joy, reverently taking the device out and into his hand, where Steve realized it was a phone. "The new Stark razor SX," he breathed and looked up at Yasha with childlike wonder. "Where did you get this? It's not supposed to come out for six months, and the waiting list is like five miles long!" Yasha grinned.

"I have a few connections," he said with a cheeky grin, "plus, Stark owes me a favor. I mentioned my little brother absolutely loves Stark tech and he gave me this. The only thing he said was to tell him if there are any issues that you find that need to be fixed." Joseph nodded with wide awed eyes before he turned to Steve with that same childlike wonder. Steve warmly returned the smile.

"You like tech," Steve asked numbly, hoping Joseph would talk to him more as they wandered around the exhibit. Joseph grinned and Yasha let out a snort.

"That's an understatement," Yasha said in humor. Steve looked over at his son with a questioning eye. "Joseph is a technopath, like my brothers." Steve's brows shot to his forehead as he looked back at Joseph. The boy looked a little sheepish but was by no means cowed.

"You didn't think I went to the institute just because my parents did; did you," he asked. Steve shook he head a little, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Frankly I don't know much about the school," Steve said as he glanced over at Yasha, "but everything I heard is nothing but praise." Joseph smiled softly.

"Yeah," he said with a nostalgic tone in his voice, "it's the best." To this Logan, who had quietly let the small family get to know one another, let out a snort. "But then again, I am a little biased."

"The kid's been there longer than any other of the students save the Team," he said with a rumbling chuckle. "It ain't no question that he's biased. But he's got a lot of good reason to be there." Steve looked back at his old buddy. "Come on, bub, he's been at the school longer than even me. He's a good egg, but with his gifts; even the Professor as trouble keeping him in line." Steve looked back at Yasha and saw a slightly guilty look on his face as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Joseph's face looked more akin to a kid who'd had wet the bed and was embarrassed to admit it.

"Just what kind of gifts do you have, Joseph," Steve asked with a hesitant yet encouraging tone.

"I … I'm a …" Joseph said haltingly before he stopped and looked at Steve, "telepathy," he finally said, "I'm a telepath." Steve's face was carefully blank as he absorbed the information. Joseph rubbed the back of his head bashfully and looked up at Steve with the eyes of a kid hoping to see approval in the eyes of a hero. Steve's face softened into a warm smile as he remembered Steven and his gifts.

"What else," he asked and turned toward a bench to sit down, guessing by the look on his face, Joseph and Yasha had a lot more to say. Joseph sat down to Steve's left and Yasha took the open spot beside the young boy.

"I've always known I was different," he said in a small voice, "even from the other kids at the institute I was different." He looked down at his lap and continued, "I age slower, which could be put down to that part of my genetics, but I'm also a lot stronger than a kid my size should be. That could also be the elven genetics, I'm not saying that it isn't a factor but it doesn't explain it all. I'm fast too, not a speedster but on par with Olympic runners, but I don't tire out as quickly." He looked up and saw that Steve's face was carefully open with interest, but otherwise blank. "I hardly ever get tired like the rest of the kids, and my metabolism burns really hot, but I don't sleep more than four or five hours a night." Yasha snaked his arm around Joseph's shoulder and pulled him close, giving him a gentle squeeze. Steve saw the grateful look in Joseph's eyes when he looked over his shoulder at Yasha, and Steve quickly realized that the two boys were likely as close as real brothers; just like he and Bucky had been. A lump appeared in his throat as he saw himself in Joseph and Bucky in Yasha's dark hair. The scene could have been any one of a number of times his old friend had comforted him when his anxiety got too much, and Steve had to blink away tears blurring the image in front of his eyes.

"What else," Steve asked softly as he laid a hand on Joseph's knee. The boy looked up at him his eyes wide with a look of joy and relief as if Steve had given him the moon just for a nightlight.

"I'm smart too," he said, and blushed. Yasha and Logan both let out a simultaneous snort.

"Smart he says," Logan grumbled.

"He's more than just smart, Ada," Yasha said and turned a look of playful teasing on the younger boy, "Professor Xavier had him tested. Joseph's IQ is on par with Stark's." at that, Steve's brows shot to his hairline.

"Tony," Steve asked in clarification, and the elder nodded. "Well, no wonder you love Stark's tech so much." Steve grinned as he teased, but Joseph just beamed; his relief palpable. Suddenly the boy's stomach seemed to end their conversation for them, when it let out a disgruntled growl. Joseph blushed and Steve just smiled. "Ya know what," he said, "I'm gettin' a little peckish myself. Why don't we head over to the commissary and grab a bite. My treat," Joseph grinned and pulled out his old phone to send off a text to his folks, while Yasha just nodded with a knowing smile. Steve looked at his old war buddy with an expectant look on his face.

"What the hell," Logan said, "I could eat." He stood up and cricked his neck before giving Steve an expectant look. "Lead the way, Captain." Steve grinned back, a shock of warm running through him at the honorific.

"Will do, Sergeant," Steve said and led the group off to get lunch.

Steve stared at the plastic cup that he held in his hands, carefully placed inside a plastic bag. He thumbed over the lip through the plastic as he thought about the boy who'd drank from it; the boy who had his father's smile, and Bucky's laugh. He felt a stab of guilt over the fact that he had all but stolen the boy's cup for a test. He didn't know why he was doing it, but something inside him screamed that that boy was his son. He didn't know if it was the smile or his determined nature, or the way he and Yasha looked so much alike together that it was obvious they were family, even if you couldn't see it until they stood side by side; but Steve knew, and he was determined to know the truth. Steve didn't have many friends in the forensics department at SHIELD but the one he had was a sweet tempered lady that Nat had tried to set him up with, before they agreed to just be friends. Beth was a top tier forensics scientist that specialized in DNA extraction from field samples. You wouldn't think that SHIELD would need a specialist like her, but apparently they did and she was it. For once Steve was glad that someone owed him a favor, because this wasn't something Steve could just take to a regular paternity clinic for testing. Beth would be discreet and thorough, and would destroy the samples after she was done for his safety and hers. All he had to do was get over the fear churning in his gut and actually knock on her door. The image of Joseph and Yasha laughing and joking together as they ate flashed through his mind, and as it did so too did the image of that hopeful smile on Joseph's face. Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself before he opened his eyes and knocked on the door.

The woman that answered was a petite brunette with a square shaped face framed by perfectly quaffed finger wave curls. She slightly resembled Peggy in the shape of her face and layout of her cheekbones and lips, and Steve could understand Nat's thought process that he might like her. But Steve could never forget Peggy, not while she was alive, and while Beth looked like her she was not Pegs. Beth looked up as Steve with a startled yet please smile.

"Captain Rogers," she said, her accent all American with a slight New York drawl, "what can I do for you?" Steve sheepishly held the cup in his hands, reluctant to give it up, as he looked down at the innocuous piece of plastic.

"I need a favor, Beth," Steve said with quiet desperation in his eyes, "and I need it done discreetly; off the books." Beth looked down at the cup in his hands then back up at Steve's face.

"Okay," she said, "whadda ya need?" Steve flashed her grateful smile, as he held up the plastic bag with the cup inside.

"I need you to run a DNA test on the lip of this cup," he said. Beth took the plastic bag from his hands and turned it over in her own.

"Okay," she said, "and what sample am I testing it against?" Steve looked back at her with a determined glint in his eye and set to his jaw.

"Mine," Steve said, and Beth looked up at him in shock. Her mouth opened a closed several times before Steve continued, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Fury." Beth nodded before she carefully took the sample over to the table and began to prep her equipment. "how long will it take?" he asked as he watched he swab the lip of the cup with a sterile swab and cap it shut, protecting the sample as she took a second swab, before pulling out two more.

"A few hours," she replied, "I'll need your spit." Beth held out the two swabs and carefully approached the captain. Steve dutifully opened his mouth as silently ordered and let Beth swab his cheek twice before she took the samples over to her table. Beth looked over her shoulder and gave the nervous Captain a warm smile. "If you want I can give you a call when it's done?" Steve shook his head after a moment of quiet thought.

"No," he said, "I'll stay here." Beth smiled and gave him a nod.

"Okay," she said and returned to her work. Steve settled down into one of the computer chairs by her desk and folded his hands in his lap to wait. A few hours later, Steve was holding the only copy of the paternity test Beth made before she wiped the system and burned the samples; giving Steve back the cup. It was all there in medical jargon and code: Positive paternal match, and suddenly Steve had a new son.

Contacting Joseph to tell him was simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing he had to do in his life. It was easy because the kid had given him his contact info after they had finished lunch, and it was hard because he had to suddenly shatter everything the boy had ever known to be true about himself. Picking up the phone just to talk to the boy was hard; making the effort to ask to meet was even harder. Steve didn't want to put the kid in danger, and he would. If it ever got out that Andrew was Steve's son, he would never be safe, that's why Andrew's records were sealed and all his personal info was classified. Steve couldn't imagine how much danger Joseph would be in if someone ever found out the truth.

Steve's first instinct was to bury the information and tell no one. He knew that was impossible. Because Beth knew, and eventually someone else at SHIELD would find out that she had wiped the data from her drive and start digging. It wasn't that Steve didn't trust SHIELD, he did; it's just, sometimes they asked him to do things that didn't quiet sit well with him sometimes and sometimes they would use knowledge like a sword against people, and that sit even less well with him.

So instead of burying information, Steve took a deep bracing breath and manned up. He picked up his private cell; the one Híraklion gave him, and sent Joseph a text.

To Joseph: Hey, can we talk?

From Joseph: yeah, sure. :D

From Joseph: What do you want to talk about?

Steve bit his thumb nail for a minute before he shot back an answer.

To Joseph: Not on the phone.

To Joseph: Can we meet in person?

To Joseph: There's something I need to talk to you about.

From Joseph: sure. Where do you want to meet?

To Joseph: the National Mall, there is a park just past the reflecting pool I run past sometimes.

From Joseph: Ok.

To Joseph: How's 10 am sound, tomorrow?

From Joseph: sound's good.

From Joseph: actually, could we meet up earlier? We could have breakfast or something. I've got a schedule my folks want me to keep.

From Joseph: is 8 am ok?

To Joseph: perfect. ;) see you then.

Steve put down his phone a put his head in his hands. He never felt more like a louse in his life.

TBC…

End Note: sorry to cut this off. I wanted to do a big reveal scene where Steve told Joseph, but I felt like that would just be tacking it on when this has a better feel. I already ticked off some of the boxes for this chapters outline and I really want to get started on the next phase of the story. This was lighthearted enough with some serious undertones that would flow more from this chapter to the very much more serious and darker chapters to come.

So, again sorry about the delay, I've been working. Yes, Working! Some of us have to when the world's lost its collective marbles. Sorry that was mean. I write when I feel like it and for a while I didn't, and this mess only made it worse. If the lockdown didn't happen maybe I would have done some more but it did and I didn't, so please be nice to me.

Next chapter, reopening old wounds, and digging into Steven's dark past.

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