Author's Note: This story is the result of my thinking about how it would have been difficult for Steve to entirely leave his identity as Captain America behind.

Content warning: a description of domestic violence.

Hero

Chapter 1

Evenings were Steve's favorite time of day. The evening, after Peggy returned home from work, was their time as a family as he and Peggy and their little Sarah ate dinner together as he told Peggy what he and Sarah had done during the day. Today was no different. He had told Peggy about the latest commission he had finished during Sarah's nap and then about the time he and Sarah had spent at the nearby park, taking advantage of the beautiful weather, interspersed with Sarah's frequent interjections, most of which were even comprehensible words now–and all of which convinced Steve that their daughter was clearly brilliant and would grow up to be quite as clever as her mother.

Steve glanced up at the sound of Sarah's peal of laughter, his favorite sound in the world, his entire chest filling with warmth as he watched Peggy dancing with Sarah to the music playing on the radio–well, Peggy was dancing and Sarah was attempting to copy her, with limited success, but whatever the case, they were both enjoying themselves. He was distracted in watching this scene and was making more of a mess than usual as he washed the dishes from dinner but oh well, he would worry about the additional splashes later.

This scene, this moment, was one to treasure, with Sarah giggling and Peggy laughing, her eyes bright. Peggy's day at work today had been better than it had been yesterday, not that Peggy had said so outright. Peggy did not mention her work much in front of Sarah, although they knew that Sarah was still too young for it to matter, but Peggy was too good of an agent not to be careful. She wanted to get into the habit of ensuring she didn't say too much about her job in front of their daughter for when Sarah would eventually be old enough to understand. But by now, Steve could tell, could read how Peggy's day at work had been in her expression, the set of her shoulders, when she returned home and yesterday, her lips had been a little tight at the corners with irritation and there had been tension in her stance, all of which spoke of some frustration. She had relaxed after she had returned home, though, and then they had been distracted because yesterday, Sarah had been in one of her thankfully-not-very-frequent fractious moods when "no" was her favorite word. Today, Sarah had been restored to cheerfulness, much to his relief, and Peggy was equally happy as she played with their daughter. It was his favorite sight in the world, these two people he loved more than life enjoying themselves.

He was startled from his thoughts when the doorbell rang and Peggy too looked over at him, surprise plain on her features, forestalling his question of whether she was expecting anyone.

"I wonder who that is."

"One of the neighbors, I suppose," he guessed as he shut off the water and dried his hands. "I'll go see." Peggy teased him sometimes for being paranoid but one of the few things he generally insisted on was that he always be the one who answered the door. Not because he expected trouble–and any trouble he might expect would almost certainly not involve ringing the doorbell anyway–but he'd been fighting for too long, had grown too used to looking over his shoulder, that even after four years of peace with Peggy, he could not entirely shed his old habits of caution.

He paused only long enough to slip on the glasses he always wore when out in public before looking through the peephole, relaxing a little as he saw that it was just a small, young woman, although he couldn't see enough of her face to identify her. He opened the door and recognized her. The young woman was one of the secretaries at the SSR who worked with Peggy and who had become something of a favorite of Peggy's because she had proven herself to be smart and hard-working. He had only met her a couple times but he had spoken to her on the phone more often, albeit briefly, as she often answered the phone when he called the SSR office in order to reach Peggy while she was at work.

"Donna, right? This is a–" he broke off as she looked up and he got a better look at her face from the light spilling out from the house to see the discoloration around her eye that was the beginnings of a bruise, a split lip, to say nothing of the tears welling in her eyes. "My God, what happened? Are you all right?" He took a quick step forward, one hand reaching out to help her, but then froze as she flinched back, the instinctive reaction sending a chill through him.

He retreated back into the house, turning his head to call, "Peg, it's for you," before he turned back to Donna Simms and made a gesture with one hand, although he carefully did not move forward. "Come in. Peggy will be out in a second." He made his voice as gentle as he could manage it.

Donna still hesitated, appeared to be thinking about fleeing entirely, but fortunately, Peggy joined them at that moment, Sarah in her arms.

Steve quickly reached out for Sarah, lifting her into his arms, as Peggy approached Donna.

"Why, Donna–" Peggy broke off abruptly as she too saw Donna's face and then her manner immediately changed, softened, as she stepped forward to place a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Come inside. You shouldn't be standing out here. What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Peggy ushered Donna inside, closing the door behind them, and on a little gasp, Donna finally spoke, "Oh, Agent Carter, I–I shouldn't have come, shouldn't be intruding on your home, but I–I couldn't think of anywhere else to go and–"

"Nonsense," Peggy interrupted her. "You're not intruding. Come and sit down, and tell me what happened."

Steve watched as Peggy gently steered the young woman into the family room and onto the couch while Steve, with Sarah held securely in his arms, quickly ducked into the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit along with a wet washcloth to use as a cold compress, returning to the front room and handing them to Peggy.

That done, he retreated into the hallway, lingering out of Donna's line of sight but where he could still see into the room. Donna's instinctive reaction, her flinching away when he had approached, had told him perhaps more than Donna realized and he didn't want to risk possibly making her nervous. He still… forgot sometimes, even now, how much taller and broader he was than almost all other men in this time and more than that, Donna's reaction to him had given him a bad feeling about what had happened. He had also been in too many fights himself, both before and after becoming Captain America, not to recognize the signs of it in others. He could tell when a black eye was caused by a punch. He had no reason to believe that Donna being beaten had anything to do with the SSR per se or that it might affect Peggy but either way, he needed to hear what had happened.

Peggy gently placed the cold compress against Donna's eye and she flinched back from the cold with a little hiss but then lifted her hand and held it there herself.

"Who did this?" Peggy asked, her tone mild.

Donna sniffled a little, tears welling in her eyes. "Jerry."

The name meant nothing to Steve but he could see from the sudden tension in Peggy's form that it did mean something to her. "Your fiancé did this to you?"

Every muscle in Steve's body locked in shock and a surge of anger. Donna's own fiancé had hit her? In his arms, Sarah gave a little whimper and a protesting wriggle and he belatedly realized that his arms had clamped too tightly around her and he forcibly relaxed his muscles to loosen his hold, smoothing a comforting hand down her wavy blond hair as he made a few soothing murmurs in his daughter's ear. He began bobbing up and down on his feet to keep Sarah entertained and quiet because he didn't want to miss hearing the rest of Donna's story, did not want to make Peggy retell such a story to him later. Although it occurred to him that Peggy was hardly likely to appreciate his regard for her sensibilities.

Donna dissolved into tears, accepting the handkerchief Peggy handed her as she sobbed into it for a few minutes. "I'm sorry. I–"

"It's quite all right," Peggy assured her. "Tell me what happened." Her voice was still gentle but there was just a thread of command in it and it worked, had Donna straightening a little.

"I–Jerry and I had plans to have dinner together and we did but Jerry was in a bad mood from the beginning because he'd had a bad day at work, had lost out on a big commission to one of his main rivals in his office. And I tried, I did try, to cheer him up but nothing I said seemed to work and then when we were done eating, he excused himself to go wash his hands. I was just waiting for him outside when a couple fellows came up and asked me for directions so I told them. I–I was only being polite and helpful, I promise I was–"

"Of course you were," Peggy responded soothingly as Donna's voice rose.

Donna subsided a little as she went on, her voice trembling at points. "But then Jerry came and found me talking to them and he–he made something of a scene and I pulled him away to try to calm him down. He–he said he would see me home so we got into a taxi and he–oh, he was so angry and started saying all sorts of things, terrible things, about how I'd been flirting with those men and was that what I did the moment he turned his back. I was trying to explain, telling him what happened, but he–he wouldn't listen. And when we got out of the taxi at my place, I was just about to go up the stairs when he–he pulled me around to the side alley. I thought–" Donna paused, blushing, but then went on, more tears welling up, "I thought he wanted to… to kiss me. The alley is useful for that, private, you know. Oh, I shouldn't have said that." Donna broke off, looking mortified.

"Don't be silly," Peggy reassured her, sounding just a touch dry. "I wasn't always married. I remember what those boarding houses were like."

"He–he hit me," Donna admitted, her voice now barely above a whisper. "I–I cried out but he–he only seemed to get angrier… he hit me again. I–I fell… but when he came toward me again, I–I ran. I didn't think. I just wanted to get away. I got into a taxi and… came here. I–I don't know why but I–I just wanted to go somewhere where he couldn't find me and this was the first place I could think of. I–I was just so scared," she added, her voice little more than a breath.

Steve inwardly flinched a little at this last admission. He had, absurdly, moved to cover Sarah's ears immediately after Donna's first mention of being hit–he couldn't bear the thought of his little daughter hearing such a story at her age, at any age, really, but he was all too aware that he could not hope to prevent Sarah from hearing about violence in the world as she grew up. But not yet, please God, and Steve could only vow with everything in him that he would do everything that he could possibly do to ensure that Sarah never experienced violence in her own life.

"You're safe here," Peggy promised. "You'll stay here tonight, of course, and we can simply go in to work together tomorrow morning."

"Oh, Agent Carter, thank you. I'm sorry to intrude like this."

"It's not an intrusion. Don't say anything more about it," Peggy directed, some crispness entering her voice. Her voice softened as she went on, "Has he ever struck you before?"

"N-no," Donna faltered, hesitated, and then admitted, her voice rather shaky, "not really. I–it was just a slap, once, months ago and afterward, he apologized again and again and promised it would never happen again and he was just so sweet and I–oh Agent Carter, I did love him. I believed him. He–he'd had a bad day and had a headache and I–I was talking too much, I guess–but he was sorry for it. He said he was!" Her voice broke as she dissolved into more tears.

In his arms, Sarah stirred and turned to look at Donna and he paced quietly down the hallway, retreating back into the kitchen, still bouncing a little as he did so to keep Sarah quiet.

"Mama friend sad?" Sarah ventured, her voice small and a little uncertain.

He drew back a little to look into her face, smoothing a hand down her hair. It occurred to him that this was almost certainly the first time Sarah had seen an adult crying. "Yes, a little," he temporized gently. "She got an owie so she cried, like you do when you fall down."

"Mama help," Sarah offered with so much confidence in Peggy it made his heart swell in his chest.

He pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "Yes, sweetheart, mama will help. Mama always does."

Sarah nodded, patting his cheek with one small hand, which he decided to interpret as an attempt to comfort him, sweet girl that she was.

"It's all right," he murmured. "Mama will take care of it."

She gave a little sigh as if satisfied with that assurance and settled her head against his shoulder with that same boundless trust she had just shown in Peggy, never doubting that either he or Peggy could solve all the ills in her world. He brushed another kiss to her hair and tightened his hold on her a little as he paced and continued to bounce. His precious daughter. Not for the first time, he was overwhelmed at the sheer force of the love he felt for her at times like this. Becoming a father had expanded his world, changed everything in ways he hadn't known were possible, amazing him every day with the depth and strength of the love and protectiveness he felt for his daughter. He could only hope and pray that he could live up to the faith his daughter had in him.

He waited a couple minutes until he could tell from the growing laxness in Sarah's body, the evenness of her breaths, that she was growing sleepy, as she often did when he paced with her in his arms, something about the motion seeming to make her drowsy.

He walked slowly back down the hallway to where he could once again see into the family room, hear what Donna was saying.

She was sniffling a little, her voice shaky, as she said, "-tonight, he was just so… angry and… mean… he was so different… He scared me."

She looked down at her hands–looked down at, Steve realized, the ring on her finger, the symbol of her engagement to this brute of a man who had hit her, frightened her. A brute and a bully who needed to be taught a lesson.

Donna looked back up at Peggy, her expression almost beseeching, making her look rather childlike, although she was, Steve knew, only a handful of years younger than Peggy. It was a look of such uncertainty, such vulnerability, that Steve rather thought it would make many men almost come to blows for the privilege of helping her cross the street. The sort of look that would make many men imagine themselves as some sort of white knight riding up to slay a dragon. The appeal of the helpless, the proverbial damsel in distress, was not one that Steve himself had ever understood but he knew other men well enough to know that it was a very real thing. The appearance of weakness could, he knew, bring out both the best in people, their protective instincts, just as it also brought out the worst in others, the bullies who preyed on apparent weakness.

"I–I can't marry him now, can I?"

"That's not a decision I can make for you," Peggy answered, her voice calm, so much so that Steve knew that many people would think she was unaffected by this whole story but he knew Peggy well enough to recognize that her outward calm was a sign of how angry she was. She showed her irritation and her frustration readily enough–his Peggy was too direct and straightforward not to–but he had learned that when she was angriest, in a way that was intense and personal, she became outwardly very calm and very cold, encased in ice as it were, and when that happened, woe betide the object of her wrath. Steve sometimes thought, half wryly, that it was fortunate for the world that his Peggy was too kind and too much a force for good to ever really lose her temper for an unworthy reason.

Donna looked down and twisted the ring on her finger, a few tears falling onto her hands. It was a long minute before she managed, her voice low, "I–I don't think I can. I–I know I promised I would but I just… can't." She sniffled again and managed in a muffled voice, "And he broke his promise too. He said it would never happen again, that he would never hurt me, but he–he did…" She choked on a sob and covered her face with her hands for a couple minutes. It was a little while before she lowered her hands. "I can't marry him," she said, her voice very low but there was certainty in it now. She had made her decision.

She looked up at Peggy, her eyes wide and distressed again. "But oh God, how can I tell him? I–I don't want to see him again. He–he'll be so angry when I tell him and I–I can't–I'm so scared–"

Steve had already taken an almost involuntary step forward when Peggy answered, "You won't have to see him again. S–my husband will tell him. And he'll ensure that Jerry never bothers you again."

At another time, Steve might have smiled at this example of how well he and Peggy understood each other.

Peggy turned. "Darling, can you come in here?"

He knew perfectly well that Peggy had known all along that he was there, listening in, but Peggy was preserving the fiction that he hadn't been listening to spare Donna's dignity. And in keeping with the fiction, he waited a few moments before he walked into the room to join Peggy and Donna. "What is it? I was just about to put Sarah to bed." He caught Peggy's look and realized he might have overdone the innocent act. He was not, as Peggy teased him sometimes, a good liar.

Fortunately for him, Donna was, he saw, too distressed to really notice or think anything of it if she did.

"I'll take care of putting Sarah to bed tonight," Peggy volunteered. "Donna and I want to ask you to do something for Donna."

"Of course, I'm happy to help." That, at least, required no acting.

Peggy glanced at Donna who let out a breath and managed, her voice not entirely steady, "I–I want to break off my engagement but I don't want to confront Jerry, that is, my fiancé, to his face. He–he frightened me." she paused, hesitated, glanced at Peggy, and then went on, "Would you–could you–Agent Carter said that you would go talk to my fiancé and–" She broke off, her expression crumbling a little. "Oh, but I can't ask you to do this! I–I hardly know you and Jerry is very strong and he might–he'll be so angry and he might hit you too and I can't ask you to take such a risk."

Steve kept his expression blank, did not meet Peggy's eyes. He knew that for all his height, he would hardly appear at all the sort of man who could handle violence, especially considering he was still carrying a sleepy Sarah, curled up against his chest. And of course, Donna knew of him only as a house husband and likely assumed he was very meek. As most people did, he knew; he'd been subjected to more than enough mocking comments on the subject to know that but such opinions mattered even less to him than the hagiographic treatment of Captain America that he'd never cared for either.

"You needn't worry about my husband. He can take care of himself. He was a soldier in the war, you know," Peggy spoke up.

"I think I still remember some of my combat training," Steve supplied with as much bland reassurance as he could muster. "I'd be happy to talk to this Jerry on your behalf."

"Are you very sure?"

He met Donna's eyes and for the first time in a while, felt his jaw setting in the way it usually had when he had been acting as Captain America. "I'm sure," was all he said.

He felt Peggy's look but for once, did not meet it, kept his attention on Donna, who gave him a rather shaky, uncertain smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carter."

"Not at all. Where can I find Jerry?"

Donna told him Jerry's address, which was outside of the city itself, he was rather relieved to note–if relieved was the word–so it would take less time to get to than he had initially expected.

He nodded. "I'll leave right now."

Donna hesitated and then slipped off her ring and held it out. Peggy accepted it, standing as she did so. "I'll walk him out. You can relax now, Donna. You're safe and this will all be over soon."

Peggy accompanied him to the front door and they accomplished the handover with the ease of months of practice, with him passing Sarah into her arms without disturbing her too much. Peggy crooned soothing murmurs into Sarah's ear, brushing a kiss to their daughter's hair, with a depth of tenderness he'd never seen in Peggy before she'd become a mother and that never failed to make his heart stutter in his chest. Sarah nestled her head against Peggy's shoulder with a sleepy little sigh, her blonde hair mingling with Peggy's much-darker curls, and he was struck all over again by the wave of tenderness that swept over him.

He ran a lightly caressing hand down Sarah's wavy hair. "You know she's going to wake up the moment you try to put her in bed and demand a story," he reminded Peggy, unnecessarily, as this was becoming one of Sarah's nightly tricks.

Peggy's lips twitched. "Yes, I'm aware." She handed him Donna's ring and he dropped it into his pocket before he picked up the car keys.

"Steve, I–"

"I know," he interrupted. "I was going to volunteer, if not insist, myself. I hate bullies, you know. I'll be back in a while."

"Do you know where you're going?"

Whether he knew the directions was not, he knew, what she was really asking, more if he had thought over what he was going to do. His lips curved a little. "Don't worry. I still have my compass." His compass, with her picture in it. Even now, almost four full years after he had returned to Peggy, he always kept his compass with him, knew he always would. It was something like his lucky charm, his personal talisman.

Her expression softened at the mention of his compass. "All right. Be careful."

Now, he flashed her a quick, real smile. "I was a soldier, remember?"

She returned his smile. "I remember. Go get him."

The words triggered a flash of memory, of a car speeding after Schmidt's jet, the wind rushing past their faces, her lips soft and warm against his. He met her eyes, saw that she had remembered the same thing–and they both moved at the same moment, their lips meeting for a fleeting second, past and present seeming to mesh for an instant.

And then he drew back, gave her a quick salute, and left the house.

~To be continued…~