Chapter Four "Never Slow Down"

By morning, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still ominously gray. When Steve got up, he found a well organized collection of prescription bottles on his desk along with all of the instructions on when and how to take them. Next to this was a scrap of paper covered in Tony's handwriting: "Glasses and insoles will take a few days."

Steve couldn't remember Tony ever leaving him notes before. Now he had two in three days.

As he got dressed, Steve was glad this would be the last time he had to wear other people's clothes. Though, he was considering keeping one of Natasha's sweatshirts, if only to tease her.

When he walked out into the living area, Steve smelled bacon and coffee. Sam was in the kitchen, just finishing a batch of pancakes. Clint, Natasha, and Wanda were sitting at the table while Vision sat in the living room reading a book.

"Figures you'd show up just in time for food," Sam said as Steve joined them.

"Do you actually not know how to make anything else?" Steve asked, remembering the first time Sam made him and Natasha breakfast.

"I like pancakes," Sam said in a serious voice. "You can make breakfast if you want something else, you know?"

"No, he burns things," Natasha said, shaking her head.

Steve stared at her with a betrayed expression. "She lies."

"Not about food."

"I can confirm this," Clint said. "It's the only thing she doesn't lie about."

Steve sat down across from them as Sam brought out the food.

"So you boys are going on a shopping trip?" Natasha asked as she dished up her plate. "That is so cute."

"I mean, I could just keep stealing your clothes," Steve said. "But I think it's starting to confuse people."

"Yeah, you guys just look so much alike," Clint said.

"Maybe if she'd stop wearing heels, you could tell the difference." Steve looked at Natasha with a smirk.

Natasha shook her head. "I don't think it would help."

"He's gonna hold onto that one inch he's got on you," Sam said. "Maybe we should buy platform shoes."

"And watch me break my ankles, nice," Steve said.

"If you wanted me to teach you to walk in heels, Rogers, all you had to do was ask," Natasha said.

"I think I'll just be short, thanks."

"Well, it's good to accept your shortcomings," Clint said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"You would know," Steve replied, refusing to dignify the pun with so much as a smile.

Wanda shook her head as she stared at her food. "Sometimes, I can't tell if you all like each other or not," she said.

"The second we stop being horrible to each other..." Clint said, "... run."

"Yeah, they're mean to everyone they like," Steve said.

Sam stared at Steve. "They?" he said in an accusing voice.

"I am always nice."

Clint snorted in laughter. "You literally made fun of me for being deaf yesterday," he said.

"Oh, that's cold," Natasha said. "Even I don't go there."

"I had to get a head start on the short jokes," Steve said.

"In other words," Sam said, looking over at Wanda, "he's not the nice one."

Wanda leaned forward. "So who is the nice one?"

"Clearly me," Clint said.

Steve and Natasha both laughed.

"Hey, Vision?" Sam called across the room. "Are you the nice one?"

Vision looked up from his book. "'Nice' is a rather useless categorization," he replied.

"Ouch," Steve said. "Now nobody wants it. It's probably you, Sam."

"Yeah, okay," Clint said. "If it's not me, it's Sam. He feeds us."

"Oh, it's definitely me," Sam said. "Nobody else would put up with this kind of nonsense."

Vision walked over to the table. "If nice is equivalent to kind and nurturing, then yes, it would be Sam."

Natasha gave Sam a serious look. "You're the mom friend," she said.

"Damn it," Sam muttered. "I was trying to avoid that."

"You shouldn't have let us in," Steve said shaking his head. "And what did you expect? You're taking me shopping."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I regret every decision I ever made."

~A~

As Steve slid into the passenger seat of Sam's car, he realized something he hadn't anticipated.

"I like your car better now," he said.

"Why's that?" Sam asked, starting the engine.

"More leg room."

Sam shook his head as he started down the long driveway. "You enjoy that," he said.

"Is there a reason we're going all the way to the city?"

"More options, better food... and I figure you wanna get out of the house for a while."

"Yeah, I never thought such a big place could feel so crowded," Steve agreed.

"You never did move back to Brooklyn."

"I guess things just got busy, and it was easier to stay with the team."

"But you got a choice now." Sam glanced over at Steve. "You could have a normal life."

Steve shook his head. "Not until I find Bucky," he said. "Even then... it's not like I can just go back to art school and pretend all this never happened."

"Why not?"

"Because this is my life. I don't have anything else."

"And you think you never could?"

Steve looked down at his hands as they rested in his lap. "I know I never could," he said.

"Man, that's bleak," Sam said. "There is more to life than saving the world from nazis and aliens."

"You sure about that?"

"Well, there must be, cause I'm pretty sure they'd make potato pancakes out of you now."

"That's good, you worked in potatoes and pancakes. Quality insult."

Sam chuckled. "Gotta balance out all that nurturing."

"I'm sure Vision meant it in the nicest possible way."

"No, he meant it in the most literal possible way. Niceness isn't a thing, remember?"

"Okay, so you're like a mom. Moms are great. Maybe we're all so dysfunctional because we don't have any."

"How old were you?" Sam asked.

Steve knew exactly what he meant. "Eighteen," he said. "Not as young as some."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know what I'd do without my mom. I should take you to meet her. She's great."

"She must be if she puts up with you."

"I will turn this car around, Rogers, so help me..."

"All right," Steve relented. "What about your dad?"

"He died when I was fifteen. He's the reason I joined the military."

"I guess mine was too. I never knew him, but..."

"What, never?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"He died before I was born. Mustard gas."

"And you wanted to be just like him?"

"Well, not exactly. I had a lot of other reasons."

"Must have if you thought you'd even live through boot camp."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"The great mystery of our time."

"I don't know why I talk to you." Steve sighed and stared out the window.

Sam scoffed. "Tell me I'm wrong. Go on, I'm listening."

Steve shook his head and said nothing.

"That's what I thought."

~A~

The headache had settled between his eyes as Tony stared at the screen in front of him. He still couldn't make sense of it. Dr. Cho had no insights, but this wasn't her field. No, they needed Bruce.

Tony sighed. He didn't have time to worry about that now.

A knock on the glass doors, disrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see Natasha coming into the room. He didn't have the energy for this now.

"Any progress?" she asked, looking at the neatly organized file boxes—a sharp contrast from her previous visit.

"Not really," Tony replied. "I mean, I could BS something, but you'd see right through that, wouldn't you?"

Natasha ran her fingers along the edge of the desk. "Anything you need?"

Tony didn't respond for a moment because the question threw him off. "Coffee," he finally said.

She nodded once. "You haven't tried out your new espresso machine yet, have you?"

"I was waiting for a special occasion."

"Sleep deprivation seems like a good enough reason." Natasha walked over to the lab coffee station where the pristine espresso maker sat unused since last Christmas. It had been a gift from the rest of the team to Tony and Bruce because of all the time they spent working in the lab.

Natasha worked quietly, not asking any more questions or telling Tony what she thought he should be doing like he had expected. A few minutes later, she came back over to the desk with two large mugs of cappuccino.

"I made yours a double," she said. "Wet."

Tony took the cup and noticed the minimal amount of foam on top. It made for more caffeine. He shook his head. "The world must be ending if you're being nice to me," he said.

Natasha gave him a mock offended look. "Now why would you say that?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Is this supposed to be a lesson?" he asked.

"I don't know, is it?"

"You think treating me differently is gonna make me see reason?"

She shook her head like she had no idea what he was talking about. "You said it, not me."

"It's not the same. You know it's not the same."

"Yeah, I do." She looked into her cup. "But I figure if I can't stop you from obsessing over this, I might as well help you."

"This for real? You being helpful?" Tony took a sip of his coffee. It was amazing.

"It's been known to happen."

"Okay, what do you know about human enhancement?"

Natasha looked Tony in the eyes with an expression that scared him more than usual. "More than I ever wanted to," she said.

~A~

Walking through the city with sore feet and ill-fitting clothes took Steve back in time. He could almost ignore the neon lights and advertisements on every surface.

Sam had a list of places to visit that he had researched online before coming, and Steve appreciated having a plan. They started with dress clothes which would be the hardest part.

"I don't know why you don't just stick to casual," Sam said as they searched through racks of clothes. "Seems like it'd be easier."

"Yeah, and go through life looking like a kid in hand me downs," Steve said, frowning at the label on a pair of slacks. "We're either going to have to find another store or a tailor."

"I put tailor on the list," Sam said. "Just in case."

Steve smiled in spite of the bleak prospects. He knew he was lucky to have Sam around.

After a few hours, they stopped for lunch. Steve felt a stabbing pain settling behind his eyes. Not to mention everywhere else.

"You look a little pale, man," Sam said as they sat down to eat at an outdoor cafe.

"More than usual?" Steve said.

"Yeah, and that's saying something."

"You'll get used to it."

Sam shook his head. "Do I have to?"

Steve shrugged. "Your choice, but it'll be easier on you if you do."

"How exactly are you going to track down your amnesiac friend if a bit of shopping wears you out?"

"First of all—" Steve held up his finger. "—that was not 'a bit' of shopping. Secondly… they have cars over there."

"Nothing slows you down, does it?"

"Why would it?"

"Most people would take some time to recover from… all this."

"I'm not most people," Steve said. "I can't afford to slow down, take a break. If I stop now… maybe I never start again."

"No excuses, huh?"

"Too many. I can't let any of them stop me."

"Is that a philosophy you developed in the bad old days?"

Steve stared out across the street for a moment. "I learned it from my mother," he said. He didn't usually talk so much about his past, but Sam had a way of getting him to open up. "She always said when life beats you down, you have to get back up. If you don't, you'll just stay down."

"You ever think maybe that was metaphorical?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's a general principle."

"And what did Bucky say?"

Steve was surprised that Sam asked about him. "He said I liked getting punched."

Sam smirked. "You know if he hadn't destroyed my car, we might get along," he said.

"He wasn't himself."

"We'll see."

~A~

The Soldier sat on the floor of a dark room. Only a small lamp on an end table, lit up the books, photos, stolen files, and blank paper on the floor in front of him. He held a steaming cup of tea.

Steve. The Soldier remembered the name. The face. The voice. He didn't know how he remembered.

And his own face stared back at him, smiling, barely recognizable. A shadow of a life that was stolen from him.

The Soldier sipped his tea. He would figure it out.