Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Douglas Rogers trudged through the tiny kitchen, the spacious dining room, and into the living room. Sitting in his favorite red recliner, he placed his can of Budweiser on the nearby coaster. He then grabbed the remote and turned on the television. A female reporter with light tan skin and long brunette hair spoke.

"In breaking news, an apartment building on the corner of East Fifty-Seventh Street and Third Avenue burned down. The builder's owner is currently uncertain of how it happened but the investigation is ongoing. However, sources say that Captain America was on the scene."

At that moment, an image of the red, white, and blue vigilante appeared on TV. He held his iconic circular shield, looking ready to spring into action.

Douglas glared at the screen as he opened his beer, before taking a long swig.

Of course, he was there, he thought.

When Captain America had initially been unfrozen, Douglas thought he was going senile. But, as the days turned into weeks, and more news outlets covered the Captain's return, Douglas had been forced to accept the inevitable truth. Now, instead of disbelief, his blood just boiled.

"Sources say The Captain helped save everyone from the flames, including some of its youngest residents," the reporter continued.

Just then, the image of Captain America was replaced by a little girl with dark brown skin and dark pigtails. In her arms was a charred teddy bear.

"He jumped through my bedroom window and he saved me," said the little girl, her expression bright and cheerful.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to Captain America, young lady?" the tan-skinned male reporter asked, bending down and placing the microphone in front of her.

"If he's out there, wherever he is, I'd just want to say thank you," the little girl said. "Thank you so much."

Of course, he jumped through that window, Douglas thought, taking another swig of beer. Leave it to him to make saving a kid heroic.

XXXXX

Italy, 1942. Sergeant Douglas Rogers had been put in charge of holding some local villages. His superior officers wanted him to report to Captain America about the state of affairs within the area.

As he paced back and forth in his tent, he ran a hand through his hair. He desperately needed to cut it, but he hadn't had the time nor the energy to do so.

They said he would be here around 1300, thought Douglas. What's taking him so long?

His hands clenched into fists as he kept pacing. There was a desk in front of him with a map spread across the surface. Just then, the tent flap opened and Douglas stood at attention. The man who entered wore a red, white, and blue spandex costume complete with an 'A' on his forehead and wings on the side of his head.

Recognition hit Douglas like a truck, even as he did his best to maintain his composure. Despite the costume, Douglas recognized his older brother.

"Sorry I'm late," said the star-spangled man.

"Steve, is that you?" Douglas asked.

Steve drummed his fingers on the handlebars of his motorcycle as he waited at a four-way stop. He was surrounded by other vehicles on all sides. A million questions raced through his mind as he waited for the light to turn green.

After reading Douglas's file, he decided he was going to try visiting his brother. Although it had been several decades, Douglas was one of the few people he had left from his old life. From his life before The Avengers.

Will he even recognize me? Steve thought. Does he even remember me?

Just then, the light changed from red to green and Steve removed his foot from the break. He slowly turned left and onto a street with picture-perfect houses. He parked near a charming white house surrounded by a white picket fence. As he grew closer, he smiled upon seeing a man with salt and pepper hair pushing a young blond boy on a tire swing in the front yard.

That must be Douglas's son, Mark, and his grandson Evan, thought Steve.

He removed his helmet and placed it on one of the motorcycle handlebars before walking toward the house.

"Hello, sorry to bother you, sir, but does a Douglas Rogers live here?" he asked.

Mark moved away from the tire swing before shifting his gaze to Steve.

"How do you know my father?" Mark asked.

I can't exactly tell Mark the truth about my relationship with his father, Steve thought. He wouldn't believe me.

"He and my grandfather served together," he replied. "My grandfather spoke very fondly of Douglas. I came because was hoping to pay my respects."

"Well, it's nice to know that dad still has army buddies even after all this time. Let me go inside and ask him," said Mark. He looked back at Evan now. "I'll be back outside in a minute, buddy."

As Mark turned and walked up the front porch steps, Steve inched closer to Evan.

"How old are you, young man?" he asked.

Evan slowed his swinging as his blue eyes, Douglas's blue eyes, moved to Steve.

"Six," he said quietly.

He's so shy, thought Steve. Just like I was at his age.

"Six is a good age. What grade are you in?" he asked.

Evan dragged his feet against the ground, bringing up dust as he slowed his swing even more.

"I'm in kindergarten," he answered.

Just then, Mark reappeared with Douglas, who limped close behind.

Must've been that wound he acquired in Korea, Steve thought.

He shifted his gaze to his brother. Douglas's reddish-brown hair had turned gray and his clothes looked freshly pressed and immaculate.

Mom always instilled a sense of neatness in us, thought Steve.

Mark led Douglas downstairs and toward the fence. As Douglas grew closer, his steel blue eyes, a mirror of Steve's own, zeroed in on him.

"This is the man, Dad," said Mark, gesturing to Steve.

Mark returned to pushing Evan on the swing while Douglas stared at his brother. Standing up a little straighter, Steve was about to extend his hand when Douglas's brows furrowed and a serious frown formed on his face. He turned the full force of his glare upon his older brother.

"You've got some nerve coming here," said Douglas. "Paying your respects? That's rich."

I don't know how much Douglas has told Mark and Evan about me, thought Steve. And I don't really relish having this conversation in front of them either.

"I just wanted to talk, Douglas," he said.

And it was the truth. If there was anything Steve had learned from his time in the ice, it was that he would never again take his relationships for granted.

"I don't know how you fooled my son, but I won't be so easily duped," said Douglas, his body going rigid as fury blazed in his eyes. "I've got nothing to say to you."

Without another word, Douglas turned and walked back toward the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Mark's brown eyes widen. Steve then shifted his gaze back to Mark and nodded.

"Thanks for your time, sir," he said, before walking away.

Steve tried not to let the sting of Douglas's rejection hurt him. But even as he got on his motorcycle and drove away, his younger brother's words cut deeper than any physical wound he'd ever received.

I'm so sorry, Douglas. I hope someday you'll change your mind.

"Dad, what the heck was that about?" Mark asked, turning around to look at Douglas.

You wouldn't understand, Douglas thought, watching his older brother ride away out of the corner of his eye.

He could feel the weight of his son's gaze on him as Douglas stood on the front porch. With one hand, he reached toward the front door.

"What's wrong, Grandpa?" Evan asked from the swing, twisting toward Douglas.

Damn, I can't very well ignore Evan, thought Douglas.

He turned to look at Evan and Mark.

"Grandpa's just tired, Evan," was all he said.

Shifting his gaze back to the front door, he opened it and entered the house.

Hello Again, Loyal Readers! I hope everyone had a nice, relaxing holiday and was able to partake in good food and good people whom they care about. As usual, I had initially intended to update this chapter some time ago but life got in the way.

As always, if you're enjoying this story, please feel free to leave a like or comment. They're the best paycheck I have!