This is set the Sunday evening during the reunion weekend and follows the chapter "All Things End," just after everyone has retired for the night.

Once Megan was asleep, Steve slipped out of bed and padded to the darkened living room of his apartment. "Jarvis, did you have any luck getting some information about the person who sold the story?"

"You underestimate me, Steve. Luck was not necessary. I've sent the results to your tablet."

Steve nodded once as he sat down on the couch to read. He whistled softly when he saw the balance in her checking account was thirty-seven cents. "Setting aside the numerous laws you broke finding this all out…this is even worse than I feared. "

"Indeed. The entire situation is unfortunate. I might add, however, that the laws you refer to were written by humans to apply to other humans."

Steve froze for a moment, then slowly looked toward the nearest camera. "You're exploiting a loophole. Technically, since I asked, I'm the one responsible, and that loophole doesn't apply to me."

"Yet I have the power to disregard any and all of your requests, making the responsibility for my actions solely my own."

Steve slumped back in his chair a bit, curious about what else Jarvis might say.

"I am somewhat surprised you are troubled by this, given your own history."

"I'm not troubled at all. I'm just reflecting on what terrible examples Tony and I are when it comes to the rule of law." Steve shook his head, mostly to himself. It was so easy to ask Jarvis for information and not wonder or worry about how Jarvis got them the answers. He'd need to think about that more later, maybe when he could actually trust society to work the way it was supposed to. "What's her employment history?"

"Takira Brown has worked at the same hotel since she turned eighteen. She and her late husband had two children together. Sophia is ten years old and her brother Ethan is eight. Sophia, is currently a patient of Sloan Kettering Medical Center. Her lower right leg was amputated late last week after she was diagnosed with primary bone sarcoma in her right tibia. She is expected to make a full recovery once her treatment is complete."

"What's sort of medical insurance does her mom have?"

"I'll get to that in a moment. Takira filed a protection from abuse order against her husband four years ago, which he appears to have respected, insofar as I see no police reports form Takira regarding the matter. He died under questionable circumstances two years ago."

"Is there any good news?"

"The hospital is working to connect Takira with various agencies to ensure Sophia receives a quality prosthetic that will be upgraded as she grows to adulthood."

"What's the insurance situation overall?"

"Inadequate, especially considering the payments required to continue insurance coverage now that Takira is no longer employed."

"So, we have a single mom who's survived domestic abuse trying to make ends meet while her daughter is fighting for her life. She gets behind on the rent, fears eviction, has no safety net, and sees the memory book in a hotel room. It's not a scandal that will hurt anyone, but if she calls the tabloids who have probably reached out to her in the past, she figures she can at least get the rent paid. Except she got caught and now has no job, increased medical costs, and only a few more weeks in her home."

"It seems to be a reasonable scenario that fits with the facts we know."

"Jarvis, if I pay her past-due rent tonight, will that stop her landlord from initiating eviction proceedings?"

"Probably. Shall I have a courier deliver a money order?"

"If you can arrange it, I'd appreciate it. Take the money out of my account. And pay the rent for the next six months while you're at it. I want to make sure their housing situation is stabilized while I figure out what else I can do. Actually, can you move five thousand into her checking account? She might have other late bills we don't know about."

"I'll do so at once."

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as memories of his own sickly youth flooded his mind. "Is anyone in the kitchen still awake?"

"Of course. Cleaning up after a large event takes time."

He nodded to himself. "Ask them to pack three heated meals to go. I'd bet my last dollar that Takira is eating out of vending machines. If someone can drop me off at the hospital, I'd appreciate it."

After promising Happy he'd call him when he was ready to go back to the tower, Steve slung his shield over one arm, then took the stack of food from Stark's most trusted body guard and headed inside the main doors of the Sloan Kettering Medical Center.

"Sir, visiting hours are over," the guard informed him from his spot near the metal detectors. Steve wondered what his mother would have thought about the need for such a device inside a hospital.

"I understand. But I also know that there's a time for bending the rules and this is one of those times. I'm here to visit Sophia Brown and speak to her mother Takira. They've had a bit of a rough day." He gave the guard his best Captain America smile and stepped through the scanner. "Are we agreed that I can take dinner up to the ladies before it gets cold?"

The guard's brow furrowed. "The shield…."

"That's the nature of vibranium, son." He held up the food again.

"Right, of course. Do you need me to look up the room number?"

"Already have it. Have a good night."

"Ms. Brown?" Steve asked respectfully as he stepped into Sophia's room. Sophia was sitting up in bed, using the bed table to hold her paper as she drew a picture. Takira was slumped in the chair at her daughter's bedside, a garment in her lap. The basket of supplies at her feet spoke of mending, though Takira's hands were idle.

Sophia gasped as she recognized Steve. "Captain America?"

Takira stiffened, then slowly turned her tear streaked face towards him.

"Hi." He lifted his hands to draw attention to the takeout containers and smiled. "I brought dinner. Even when hospital food is good, there's a rule that you're not allowed to like it."

"What are you doing here, Captain America?" Sophia had none of her mother's hesitation. She had her pencil stashed in the tray drawer and her papers moved to under her pillow before Steve could get to her bed. "Is that your shield?"

"It sure is. I heard your mom was having a bit of a rough day and figured I'd stop by and see if I can help."

Takira's body language said she wanted to sink into the floor. Steve ignored her and continued. "It's just boring grown-up stuff, Sophia, and nothing you need to worry about. Mind if I put the shield on your bed? Go ahead and hold it if you want. We'll only get in trouble if we start tossing it around"

He set the stack of take-out boxes on the tray and started opening the containers. "Do you like pasta? Or do you want beef pot roast? Silverware and napkins are in that bag. Pick what you want, Sophia. I'll eat whatever meal your mom doesn't want." He looked at the food again and faked surprise. "I forgot to bring drinks. You both okay with water?" Sophia nodded. "Ms. Brown, if you'll show me where the beverage kiosk is, we can bring drinks back here for all of us."

"Of course." She stood up stiffly, placed the mending her basket, and gave her daughter a fond look before turning to Steve without making eye contact. "This way."

They walked down the hall in silence. Steve following Takira with watchful eyes. She took the first plastic cup from the stack and was unable to quell the shaking of her hands. Steve covered her hand with his own. "I'm not mad," he told her softly. "I know what desperation looks like. Your rent's all caught up and there's a cushion in your bank account. We can talk details later, but it's going to be okay."

Takira's tenuous hold on her composure disintegrated and she covered her mouth with her hands, sobbing quietly. When Steve touched her shoulder, she fell into his offered hug. "Shh. It's okay."

"Why?"

"Ma and I used to have to stuff rags into the cracks around the windows to keep the snow out, and even that didn't protect me from chilblains. I know what it's like to go to bed hungry and wake up even hungrier, not knowing if there'd ever be something more than boiled cabbage to eat. I know what it's like to be sick in bed watching your mother work when she's bone tired and worry that she'll one day collapse and not get up. I know what it's like to survive in a world that won't give you a fighting chance no matter how hard you try. Once you know those things, you never forget them." Steve took a breath against the flood of memories. "I can't make your daughter healthy. What I can do is make sure you're not so worn out from trying to make ends meet that you break your own health. I can ease her fears that you'll collapse and leave her without an anchor. She and her brother need you."

Back in Sophia's room, Steve kept the conversation going, mostly by asking Sophia an occasional question and then listing to her ramble her way through answers. It often amused him to watch parents listen in horror as their children openly shared details about their family lives that they never envisioned being shared outside the walls of their own home. A father's habit of leaving a bathroom overly smelly, the fact that mom had let some checks bounce when she was sick in bed and had not put her paycheck on direct deposit… it all came out as the kids rambled.

Fortunately for Takira, Sophia was most interested in relaying chatter about her friends at school and the stray cat Takira had firmly denied them permission to adopt.

"Have you given this cat a name?" Steve finally asked when Sophia took a breath and actually ate some of her dinner.

"Mama calls him Scamp. He's black with a white belly and white feet, sort of like a penguin. So, if we adopted him, I think I'd name him Penguin."

"What does Ethan think?"

Sophia shrugged. "He calls him Spot because he has a white spot on top of his head. Penguin is a much better name. It's more sophisticated. I'll show you because I drew a picture of him." She looked around on her bed, then turned to her mom. "Where's skebook?"

"It might be in the drawer here," Takira said, setting her plastic silverware aside to get up and look in the bedside table.

"Skebook?"

Sophia looked at him as if he were the most clueless person on the planet. "It's short for sketch book, which is way too much of a mouthful to say all the time."

"I see." He'd have to remember to share that nugget of wisdom with Natasha.

Sophia opened to the page where she had drawn a decent likeness of a cat sitting on a step. "See? He has a spot on his head."

"He does indeed look like a penguin. Or a panda. You did a good job drawing him."

"His head doesn't look right, but I don't know why."

"May I show you a trick? I'll need to draw on the opposite page to show you, but I won't mess up your picture."

"You draw?"

"All the time. When I was a kid, I was sick all the time. We didn't have television back then, or even many books for me to read. So, I spent my time drawing. Even now, I carry a small sketch book almost everywhere I go."

"Can I see it?"

"Maybe some other time. I left it in my apartment this evening. If I'd known you liked to draw, I would have brought it with me."

"Here," Sophia said, handing over her pencil.

Steve got out his phone and pulled up a photograph of a cat. "It's always a good idea to have a reference picture to get the proportions right. Do you see how this cat's head is pretty much a circle?"

"Uh. Huh. That's what I started with."

"I noticed. Now draw a light line down the middle of his face and then again across the circle from left to right. If you look at the photograph and draw those same lines, where will the nose be?"

"Way below the middle. I had it too high in my drawing."

"Exactly. Here, if you draw a smaller circle in the bottom half of your big circle, you'll see that the nose is in the middle of that smaller circle. And if you split the center lines of that small circle into six parts, going both across and down, you'll have a better idea of where to put the mouth, too. 1" With a few strokes of his pencil, the cat's face appeared. "If you have a hard time seeing it, you can use this app I found called Sketch Grid." He tapped his phone's screen a few times and the cat's face was now covered in a grid with the edges of the face pressed tight against the gridlines. "See? You can count squares and get a sense of how to divide up the space."

"That's so cool!"

"Even better is that you can do the same thing with tracing paper and a ruler. You don't have to have a fancy gadget like this to make a grid. All you need is a picture, and you can find all sorts of pictures in library books. No matter how sick I was, my mother always managed to get me some books from the library to use for reference when I was trying to draw something for the first time. I also cut pictures out of the newspaper and put gridlines on those. With practice, you might not need to draw so many gridlines, but you'll still see them in your head."

"That is so cool! Mama, did you see what Captain America showed me?"

"I did. It's very good advice."

Steve laid the pencil down, heart warmed by memories of his mother helping him see proportions more clearly. "Have you always liked to draw, Sophia?"

Sophia nodded. "Mama designs clothes, but I like to draw animals." Sophia looked up from the page where she was drawing a new cat beneath her first picture, taking care to use the trick Steve had shown her. "Maybe Captain America can find your citizenship papers, Mama. Then you can open your shop like you always dreamed of."

"I'm sure the Captain has better things to do—"

"What do you mean?" Steve said, holding up his hand to gently stop the protest.

"Papa burned all her papers proving she's a citizen. It's why she's stuck working at that sucky hotel."

"Sophia!"

"Sucky isn't a bad word, Mama."

"It's not a nice one, either."

"I've heard worse," Steve assured them. "I'm more interested the part where you're stuck."

"Papa burned all of mama's paperwork the last time they had a fight." Sophia explained. "He beat her really bad that night. That's when we left."

It took tremendous effort to keep the anger he felt from showing on his face. If he hadn't already known about it from Jarvis, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to keep his expression blank. Sophia needed to feel safe above all else. "That must have been very frightening," he said in the calmest tone he could manage. "You both deserve to be respected and loved. People that love you are supposed to take care of you, not hurt you on purpose."

Sofia nodded. "That's what they said at the shelter, too. Mama got a straining, retrain, I mean a stay away order."

"Restraining order?" Steve offered gently.

Sofia nodded. "That's it."

"Do you miss him?"

She shrugged. "No. I never liked him much. My brother Ethan does, I think." Sophia shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. He died in a cab accident two years ago. Problem solved."

"I see." Steve nodded to himself, watching Takira blanch out of the corner of his eye. "Where is Ethan staying?"

"With the neighbors. Mama usually sleeps here and calls him every day. I hope we can go home soon."

"I imagine once you've healed a bit from surgery, you'll do your chemotherapy treatments as an outpatient. That means you'll only have to visit the hospital on treatment days. You'll be home the rest of the time."

"I'd like that."

"It's not going to be easy. Chemotherapy can make you feel really weak and sick. But it means you'll be healthy when it's all over with." He pulled his tiny notebook out and turned to a blank page and looked once more at Takira. "Tell me about these papers you need to get replaced."

With patience, he teased the story out of her. Her own father, a U.S. citizen, had abandoned his family early in her life, not long after Takira and her late mother had moved to the states from Jamaica to be with him. Though legally a U.S. citizen herself, she had no way to prove it without spending money they didn't have to track down documents she was uncertain she'd find. That was going to complicate her efforts to secure employment going forward.

As they talked, Takira's hands were busy with the mending she had set aside when Steve first arrived. It turned out she was supplementing their income by doing basic alterations for a growing client base. She had dreams of designing and selling professional clothing for women who didn't have the physique of modern models.

"Show him your design book, Mama," Sophia prodded as Steve listened to their story.

"I'd love to see your sketches if you're willing to share them," Steve added.

Takira reluctantly retrieved the thin book from beneath the clothing in the basket and handed it over.

"Bring it here and I'll show you my favorites," Sophia demanded, reaching for the volume.

Smiling at the girl's enthusiasm, Steve sat on the edge of the bed and let Sophia flip through the pages, opening it to show a drawing of a flowing dress suitable for Sophia to wear. "Mama said she'd make this one for me once I get home from the hospital. We'll have to hunt for a nice fabric with a similar pattern, but she knows a store that should have something. Look at this business suit she came up with. The sleeves have little cutouts to let the shirt sleeves show. She said it's a way to add color while still conforming to business boring. I think Pepper Potts should get one, but Mama said she has rich people designers to go to. Anyways, after we saw your girlfriend Megan on TV, Mama and I played a game where we each drew a dress for her. The left page is Mama's and the right one is mine."

"Your design is very colorful," Steve said diplomatically as he saw the striped disaster Sophia had drawn. "Megan loves bright colors, but I'm not sure she'd be happy with that many stripes, probably because she doesn't have the same artistic vision you do."

"Stripes are awesome."

"I agree. Most of my uniforms have red and white stripes on them. This one, on the other hand, I think is something Megan would definitely wear." He pointed to the drawing Takira had done. The cut of the short-sleeved dress was modest but bared one shoulder while the frothy skirt that had a slit on the opposite thigh. The background color of the fabric was a jewel-toned seawater, with a pattern that made him think of both Caribbean islands and Native American tribal artworks.

"Maybe someday Mama can sew it for her."

"I think Megan would really appreciate that. Thank you for showing me." Closing the book, he stood up. "It's getting late and you need to get your sleep. It was nice meeting both of you."

"You're leaving? You never asked what's wrong with me."

"That's because there is nothing wrong with you, Sophia. I like you the way you are."

"But I don't have my leg anymore."

"That sounds pretty tough to deal with, but it doesn't mean you're broken. It means you're going to live a long life and be healthy now that the cancer is gone."

"It's not the same."

Steve sat back down, looking her in the eye with deadly seriousness. "No, it's not the same. It's hard, really hard. What you need to remember is that it's not the most important thing about you. When I go to bed tonight, I'm not going to be thinking I met a girl with one leg. I'm going to be thinking about Sophia the artist who likes to draw animals. She's really smart and doing her best to keep up in her schoolwork even though she's missing her brother, her friends, and sleeping in her own bed. I'm going to be thinking about your nice smile and good manners and how kind you've been to me. I'll be telling Megan about this friendly young lady who has a mother who loves her and that I met them both when I visited them the hospital when she was getting better after some scary surgery. I'll be thinking that I can't wait to see what amazing things you do as you grow up.

"Your body doesn't define who you are. People who focus on your leg and don't see you are not worth your time. They'll just hold you back." As he spoke, he put her finger on her chest just like Dr. Erskine had done to him. "This inside, who you are, is what is most important. Promise me you'll remember that."

She nodded solemnly.

As he stood up, Steve looked at Takira, who had tears in her eyes. "Do you have business plan?"

She shook her head and whispered, "Only dreams."

"Start thinking about the details." He handed her his card. "You need anything you call me." Smiling, he gave one to Sophia, too. "If you think your mom should call me and hasn't, you can call me yourself. It will go to voice mail, but I will get the message. I'll do what I can to find out how to get your paperwork in order. Good night, ladies."

Back in his tower apartment, Steve shared his new findings with Jarvis. "Is it possible for me to become a business partner that supplies money but doesn't really get involved? That way, Takira can run things the way she wants."

"The term is silent partner, and yes, that is certainly possible."

"What do I need to do?"

"I would advise you to arrange for Takira to have a business mentor as well as have a lawyer draw up a partnership that protects both of you."

"In other words, we need to throw money at the problem."

"That is Mr. Stark's typical approach."

"Can we be more creative? Are there any colleges in the city that have students who could help Takira as an independent project they do for credit? She needs business advice and mentoring, as well as extra hands to do the required sewing. The way I see it, we might be able to give some students a unique opportunity to help launch a business while helping Takira out, too. I know Pepper would help, but I don't want to get in the habit of running to her every time I have business-related questions. Do you think you're up to the challenge of doing this with me?"

"I'm almost insulted by that question, Steve. While I admit there are aspects of the business world I still find puzzling, mostly due to the erratic behavior of some people, I also know my limits. I find this to be an intriguing project and have no doubt I can find the right people to contact on your behalf."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"I must insist on obtaining legal counsel for both of you. I have learned from watching both Ms. Potts and Sir that a well-crafted legal document prevents a multitude of problems from developing."

"I'm not going to argue. I know that's how things work these days and I want to make sure Takira is protected. Moving on, how do we get the documents Takira needs to prove her citizenship status? While we're at it, we should get new birth certificates for the kids, too."

"If you let me scan your notes, I'll make some inquiries and see what I can do. I suggest we also help them apply for passports so Takira and the children are free to visit Jamaica in the future."

Steve nodded his agreement. "Is there anything you need me for?"

"You have done enough. You looked into a situation no one else would have considered investigating and found a significant problem we can address. For now, I suggest you retire to bed and enjoy the few remaining hours in the weekend. I have observed that Megan sleeps more soundly when you are beside her."

"That's not very subtle of you, Jarvis."

"I blame Sir's example."