97.

Upstate New York

October 28th, 2011

After a few weeks of isolation in the Retreat, Steve gets out the phone that Shield issued him, messes with the buttons, accidentally opens the internet application, and then finally does as he initially hoped – calls Fury.

"Captain Rogers?" Fury answers immediately, the phone not even having rung more than three times.

"Morning, Director Fury. Do you have time to talk?" Steve asks hesitantly.

"If I didn't have time for you, Rogers, in this time of your life, I'd give you permission to deck me yourself," Fury replies. Steve's eyebrows rise. Fury doesn't sound angry, not at all, but he almost sounds offended that Steve would insinuate such a thing.

"Um, sir, well, I was wondering if I could relocate?"

"From the Retreat?" Fury asks.

"Yes, sir. I'd like to come back to the city. It's my home." Steve thinks for a moment. "Frankly, it feels a little strange to still be away from it when there's hardly a reason to be. I think being back somewhere more familiar might be better for me."

Fury is a silent for a moment, so long that Steve wonders whether their connection cut out. "It's a little lonely up there, isn't it?" Fury asks then, with an undertone to his voice that suggests he speaks from experience.

"Yes, sir. I'm not used to the quiet."

"Understood," Fury says. "If you think you're ready then I won't be the one to stop you."

"Thank you, sir."

"You want familiar?" Fury pauses, but not long enough for Steve to answer. "How familiar are you willing to get with your new living arrangements?"

Steve pauses. "I'm not sure I quite know what you mean…"

"There's an option for you living-wise, but the apartment isn't actually new to you. You've lived there before. It's in your name, it was never changed," Fury says vaguely.

"The apartment I lived in with Bucky and Isabel? We rented that, and even then, my name was never on the rental agreement," Steve ponders.

"I believe it wasn't, but that was changed. Looking at the property's history, James Barnes added your name to the rental agreement on June thirteenth, nineteen-forty-three. Only two days before he shipped out for the war, I believe?" Fury informs Steve. "The responsibility for renting the apartment was indeed one-third yours after that date."

"Bucky never told me."

"I should say it was likely just a precaution. Howard Stark bought the apartment outright and put it in Miss Barnes' name when she returned from the front, allowing her to live rent-free and own the property. He wanted Barnes to be able to live comfortably and without stress, but he also wanted to ensure that the apartment didn't transfer into someone else's hands when Barnes decided to move who would simply turn it into some tourist museum. He didn't think you'd want that. Even after Barnes went missing, the apartment was still in Stark's name. After Howard passed away, the apartment was inherited by Tony. When we found you alive in the ice, Stark instantly transferred the deed of the property into your name. It's yours now, and you'll own it outright. So, what do you say, Captain? Do you want your old apartment back?"

Steve considers it for a long while, and Fury waits patiently, not saying a word. Steve can only hear his quiet breathing on the other end of the line. He doesn't even type or rustle paper. Every fiber of his concentration is on Steve.

"I think I'd love it, sir."

The Shield car drops Steve off out the front of his old apartment.

He gets out and goes to the trunk, hosting his duffle bag of clothing and possessions onto his shoulder, and the other bag, which carries the shield inside it, over his other arm. He closes the trunk and pats the back of the car, and the driver pulls off from the curb.

Steve looks around at the familiar-but-not-familiar streets. He recognises the neighbourhood, he does, but it's like it's had a major facelift. A lot of the old buildings have been replaced, and those still standing have been re-painted and remodeled.

He's found himself once again in the suburb of Fort Green Park, where Isabel and Bucky had begun renting their first apartment and where Steve had moved in the same night, despite telling himself he wouldn't impose on them and didn't need to live with them to get by. Maybe he wouldn't have needed to move in with them financially speaking, though it would have taken him a long time to get to a stage where he was financially stable. It would have been the loneliness that would have killed him, and his apparent inability to look after and maintain his own illnesses. Of course, none of that would have mattered, since within a year he took the super-soldier serum and became Captain America, and never returned to the apartment or Brooklyn again. Until now, that is.

Steve looks up at the familiar building. The brownstone looks almost exactly the same, though it's definitely been cleaned and repaired over the years. The store below is still a bookshop as it had been back in their time. It's been restored since then, obviously, boasting a new sign and larger windows. The inside looks much more modern, playing on the industrial, rustic theme that has taken over Brooklyn. He peers in the window and thinks he may even see a coffee shop at the very back. So very… what was the word Clint used when Steve had mentioned moving back to Brooklyn? Hipster. Whatever that meant.

Steve moves away from the shop to the small door leading up to the two apartments over the shop. Steve tries the door, but it doesn't budge open. It's then that he notices the intercom that's been built into the wall beside him. He wonders why they'd need an intercom for the apartment building. Then, he remembers what else Fury had said, about how Tony had lifted the no-renting ban his father had placed on the property. He'd recently allowed the young girl who owned the bookshop below them to rent apartment 1A, the apartment below the one Steve had previously lived in that used to be lived in by Mr and Mrs Turner, their landlords. So, there was someone else who lived in the building with Steve. Steve's glad, because it makes it feel more realistic.

Perhaps, if Tony had some improvements added to the building, the apartments inside have also been renovated? Part of Steve hopes they have, at least for the girl living in 1A – the apartments weren't exactly the Ritz when he'd lived in them, and he highly doubts a lot of their aspects would live up to the quality required of the apartments of today.

Another part of him hopes its exactly the same.

Steve uses the key Fury gave him and opens the main door, stepping inside. The lobby is still tiny as it used to be, a small mailbox bolted to the wall beside him. There isn't, of course, anything in the slot for 2A. Steve hurries up the two flights of stairs to the landing of their apartment, the top floor of the building. The window at the end of the hall has new wooden panelling. The hallways still have the same layout, but the wallpaper has been torn down to be replaced by a crème paint and the floorboards have been stained, or even entirely replaced, Steve can't really remember. Last time he was here he was colour blind with terrible eyesight.

Steve pauses in front of the front door, staring at the familiar wood. That hasn't changed, and it gives him a funny flipping feeling in his stomach. He thinks he might be sick. He thinks he might scream.

He puts the key in the lock and forces the door open, the door stuck in the frame. He almost falls inside with the pressure he has to put on it. He catches himself and stands upright, looking around. Everything in the apartment is exactly the same, so much that Steve sucks in a breath when he walks in. It's like stepping back in time, like a time capsule. Steve lets his duffle and shield fall to the ground with a thud and a metallic clank, his jaw going slack.

Everything is much more colourful than it ever was. Thanks to his new eyesight, gone is the relatively greyscale world of his past, replaced with bright and energetic colours, just like the new films Steve watches on the television. The kettle is a steel grey, the toaster a bright red, the couch a deep emerald green, the stack of books on the shelf a rainbow of colours on their spine. It's more colour in a home than Steve has ever seen, and he drinks it all in, soaks it up like a drug.

The couches, the kitchen, the floorboards, the wallpaper, the bookcase, the beds – every piece of furniture is where it was left. The furniture is covered with clear plastic covers to protect it from damage and everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, an amount that would have killed Steve before the serum. It looks as though it hasn't been touched since Isabel was last here, and perhaps that's the case. Though, Steve assumes that Peggy must have returned at some point to move herself out, and the Barnes' must have come at some point to take some of their more personal belongings, and perhaps at one point it was a crime scene. But the building had been owned by Howard Stark once Isabel disappeared, and he obviously decided to do nothing with it.

Steve walks into the kitchen and runs his hand along the wood of the counter top, coming up with a black dusty hand. He walks slowly through the living room, his feet clicking on the floorboards. He runs a handover the plastic-covered sofa, over the bookcase in the corner, over his art easel that still stands in the other corner.

The door to Bucky's room is open, and most of the room is empty. A few of Bucky's possessions remain, but mainly it's just a stripped bed, wardrobe, desk and a few posters on the wall. Steve stands in there for a while and just looks around. It almost looks familiar, almost looks like Bucky will walk in any second and ask Steve why he's standing there like a doofus.

The door to Isabel's old bedroom is closed. Steve's hand hesitates on the doorknob. He takes a deep breath and then pushes, the door opening with a protest from the hinges. The walls are still white, the bed still made with the same quilt Isabel always used but it's a dirty, yellow colour now. He opens the wardrobe and only a few of her dresses are still there, the ones that are damaged and old and warn – he assumes that maybe Becca took the rest. He opens her vanity and there's her makeup, her mascara and foundation and all her red lipstick colours lined up neatly. Next to them are all her letters from the war, to Bucky that she forgot to send and from Bucky, from her parents, from Steve. He runs a hand over the yellowing paper and then shuts the vanity drawer.

Steve turns back to the bed and lies down on it carefully, coughing when a puff of sixty-year-old dust billows up around him with his weight. He still lies there, however, on the hard bed amidst the few pillows. He stares up at the ceiling, at the crack that stretches from one end to the other along the white roof, at the mass of cobwebs in the corners that stretch all the way down toward the floor and attach themselves to all of the furniture.

Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out the compass. He'd reluctantly let Clint take it for a few days when Clint asked, and when he'd returned, the smashed glass inside had been repaired, the picture untouched. Steve smiles down at Isabel and she smiles back, and for a moment, it's almost like she could walk through the door as well. Almost.

Clint waits a few days before he comes to see Steve, this time as a friend rather than as a colleague. He wants to give the man out of time a few days to settle into his old but new apartment and adjust to the shock of it all.

When he arrives, he presses the intercom on the wall of the building, standing under the alcove to escape the pouring rain outside. A few minutes pass and then Clint hears the fumble of the intercom as Steve presses the button and speaks into it.

"H-hello?" Steve asks, loudly into the intercom. "Am I doing this right?" He asks himself, quieter then, his finger still on the intercom.

"Hey, Cap. It's Clint!" Clint replies, humour in his tone. "You're doing it right. Can I come up?"

"Sure, I just–" There's a rustling as Steve tries to work out how the intercom works. Steve sighs in frustration, a usual sound for him lately. "I'll just come down and let you in."

"There should be another button next to the one you're holding right now to talk to me. Press that and the entrance door to the lobby should unlock for a few moments for me to come inside. I'll see you up there."

Steve must do as Clint instructs because the door makes a loud buzzing sound and when Clint pushes on it, it opens. Clint hurries up the steps, a six-pack of beers in his hand and knocks on the door to Steve's apartment. Steve answers a few moments later, and Clint's eyebrows rise at the sight of sweat glistening on Steve's forehead, how his cheeks are flushed slightly red.

"Did I catch ya at a bad time?" Clint asks suggestively.

"N-no," Steve protests, his cheeks heating up even more. He steps aside and ushers Clint into the apartment. "I'm cleaning up," Steve explains, pointing to the mess behind him.

Steve is, indeed, cleaning up. The apartment is in a horrible state. Steve's been moving the old, worn, dirty, dust-filled furniture around, working out what to throw away and replace. Most of the furniture, including the bedframes, have been moved into a tall pile at the back of the living room. It's hard for him to get rid of it, to let go of his past, but he knows most of the furniture is unusable now after so many years of misuse and neglect. It's all old and was old when Steve and the Barnes' had purchased it for their property – they never had much money and furniture wasn't a necessity compared to warm clothing, food and the electricity bill.

There's a large cardboard box as well and it's filled with old kitchen supplies and dinnerware that's seen better days.

"I, uh, have a lot of stuff to replace. Most of the furniture was ruined when we got it, and it's been nearly seventy years, so…" Steve trails off. "When I came in there was so much dust. I've cleaned it all up and dusted away the cobwebs that were everywhere. Killed a fair few spiders as well. The wallpaper was a sight, so I've been tearing it all down," Steve says, pointing to the piles of old, mouldy wallpaper in another cardboard box. "I heard paint is the way to go now, anyway."

Clint looks around in astoundment. "You've been busy," Clint allows. "Why didn't you call? I would've come and helped. I love a good renovation job."

"Oh, I didn't want to bother you," Steve insists.

"Nonsense," Clint says, waving his hand in a nonsense sort of manner. "Well, I'm here now and I brought beer. Let's get into it. We can go to the hardware store later, if you want. Gonna have to get some paint and maybe some other tools. And you're going to need to go furniture shopping."

"Are you sure?" Steve asks, but his voice is hopeful. He had no idea how he was going to do any of that himself.

"Cap, I renovated my entire house from the ground up. Let's do this."

Steve and Clint work for a good week renovating the apartment.

The physical work, of lifting and assembling furniture and of painting the walls and of staining the floorboards and replacing cupboard doors, is good for Steve. He likes to be active and to use his body in ways he never could before. He feels accomplished when he finishes a task, when he can stand back and look at the wall, freshly painted and lacking any marks and mould and dirt.

The work is also good for Steve in it keeps his mind active and busy and away from any horrible thoughts that might threaten to pop up at any moment. Going to the hardware and the furniture shops gets Steve out of the apartment and into the world, and it is quite eye opening for him to how much things cost now.

He almost has a heart attack at the price of the bed, but Clint reassures him the purchase will pay off.

"You got the money, Cap. I think after everything you deserve a comfortable bed."

It turns out Clint really does have a great eye for home decoration. He helps Steve pick out a nice colour for the walls, buys the stain to put down on the old floorboards that are in need of a facelift, takes Steve to buy all new kitchen appliances and dinnerware, and then helps Steve pick out all new furniture that is brand new and durable, but also vintage-styled, a nod to the world Steve came from. Personally, Steve thinks it's perfect – it's the perfect balance between the modern and the old, paying homage to Steve's past without sacrificing the way he's evolving now as he adjusts to the twenty-first century.

When most of its finished and they've managed to get the seventy-year-old mould out of the shower that Bucky never managed to rid of like he thought, Steve and Clint stand by the front door and look in at their handiwork. They managed to keep all of their old books and records and intricates and place them around the room. The records are stacked in a crate in the corner. They never had a record player back then, couldn't afford it, but the records had been what Isabel had been collecting since she was a teenager. Steve thinks maybe he might buy a record player so he can listen to them. He thought he saw one at the electronics store.

Steve feels a smile growing on his lips at the sight of the freshly painted walls, new furniture, new curtains hanging over the windows in the bedroom. A new flatscreen television, courtesy of Clint, hangs above the fireplace. The room smells fresh and new and like paint. Steve takes a deep, steadying breath.

Steve jokes that perhaps Clint got into the wrong business.

"Trust me, Cap, I'm better with a bow and arrow," Clint replies with a smirk.

Steve smiles fondly at the archer. "Thanks, Clint. For everything," he says sincerely.

Clint waves him away. "I won't even hear it, Cap. Come on, I brought another six pack today. Let's have a beer."

Clint and Steve sink into the new couch with a sigh and raise their beers to their lips, gulping it down. It's been a long and hard few days of physical work, but the pay off is worth it. They sit in silence for a moment in the living room in front of the new television that's bolted to the wall, but they don't turn it on.

"You know," Steve says easily. "You don't have to call me 'Cap'. You can call me Steve."

Clint looks at Steve with a bit of surprise. "But you outrank me, by far. Calling you 'Cap' is the most informal way I can address you without getting in shit with Fury."

Steve frowns. "I'm only Captain in the army, and you aren't army. I don't outrank you at all. And, well Fury doesn't have to know," he says. "Besides, my ego isn't so big that I need you to call me by my rank every time you talk to me. I'm not that big-headed. Steve is just fine."

Clint barks out a laugh then. "I'm going to tell Fury you said he had a big head."

"No, I didn't," Steve gasps.

"Well, not directly," Clint allows. "You're maybe the only person who's allowed to call Fury anything but 'Director'."

"Really?"

"Uh huh," Clint murmurs as he lifts his beer to his mouth again, tipping it back. "Maybe not once I tell him what you said. Good luck, Steve."

"Whatever," Steve huffs out a laugh.

Steve smiles, a funny feeling of belonging blossoming in his chest. To be able to joke and laugh, a few weeks ago would have felt like an impossible achievement. But now it comes easy. Sitting in his old apartment with its new fixtures, it feels… oddly easy.

Steve still isn't quite sure how Clint feels about him. Maybe the man finds Steve annoying and clumsy and stupid for not knowing all these things, but he doesn't give any indication. Steve doesn't know what Clint thinks, but he'd go as far as to say Clint is his first friend since he woke up. He likes Fury and Coulson, but Clint is different. He doesn't have to teach him or mold him into anything, but he chooses to help. They just talk, and Clint shows Steve around and helps him when he needs it.

Clint seems like a trustworthy person, and like an honest person. There's been some things Steve's been wondering for a while now, particularly about Tony Stark. The man is a bit of a mystery – Steve's never had the chance to meet him yet, but already Tony has changed Steve's life massively. He signed the deed to pass this apartment over to Steve without ever even meeting the man. Steve can hardly imagine it. Though, he wonders whether Tony grew up on stories from Howard about him and the Howling Commandos. Perhaps Tony feels like they already know each other.

"Do you know much about Tony Stark?" Steve asks quietly, looking at Clint. Howard's son.

"Stark? I've only met him once when he burst into Shield headquarters needing to talk to Director Fury about some new invention. We said hello and shook hands, but that was about it."

"Yeah, but what's he like?" Steve pushes.

"It's nothing you can't find on Google," Clint assures him. "But he's a celebrity. Very well-known. Everyone knows Tony Stark. He owns Stark Industries, and he used to manufacture weapons, but he stopped after an… incident with buyers. Anyway, he's got a brilliant mind," Clint says easily.

"Like his dad," Steve says, almost a whisper. Clint tilts his head questioningly. "I knew his father. He was a good man."

"Oh, don't go there. Everyone knows Stark doesn't like to talk about his old man."

"Why not?"

"Howard Stark may have been a good friend to you, but I'm not sure he was a good father to Tony," Clint says easily.

"Oh," is all Steve can say. It's strange to think of Howard being a dad and having a kid, and for that kid to be even older than what Steve is now. But it's even more uncomfortable that Steve can easily imagine him being a bad father.

"Stark's got more issues than both of us combined," Clint says. "Just take my advice, Steve, and don't go there."

In the following weeks, Steve gets snatched up to be the face of some campaigns and ads and endorsement for the United States Army. He isn't entirely sure what he's getting into, but when he finds himself on the set forced into a replica uniform of his outfit from the war, standing in the blinding light of the cameras and being bossed around, it reminds him of all the filming he did whilst on the USO Tour and with the Howling Commandos. He never much liked that stuff; he wasn't Captain America for the fame, but to save the world. But if filming footage promoting war bonds and posing for photographs was an essential part of that, he was willing to do it.

Steve isn't entirely sure how necessary it is for him to film a fitness challenge video for high school students, but he does it because Fury asks him to. He follows the director's instructions and moves they way they want him to, lecturing the students on fitness and detention and the importance of patience (something he's never had all that much of).

Clint comes over the next day with a pizza and a dog he says is called Lucky, but Steve's never seen before, and gives Steve shit about it for the first hour of their first watch of Indiana Jones. Clint then finds out about the endorsement campaigns when the ad comes up on the television, and he starts up about that too. Steve's just glad they aren't in high school for Clint to see those videos.