Rogers, S.

Shakespeare's Lemonade

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Friendship

Summary: Steve was told his family was dead, wiped out in a single day, while Callen believed he would never know what happened to his. Turns out they were both wrong or just plain lied to. With the lines being blurred between what's true and what isn't, Steve and Callen will have to trust each other to save themselves and their friends when they have no one else to turn to. And along the way, they may just discover what they've been missing.

Pairings: past Steve/Clara, Callen/Natasha, Kensi/Deeks, Tony/Pepper

A/N: Thanks to ncisduckie and Autumn Fury for help with this. There is some AU stuff in this story because of timing, so you have been warned.

Prologue: Langley, Virginia, 1975

Steve Rogers moved through the halls of the CIA headquarters almost unnoticed. He was not exactly inconspicuous, but it was dark, and late in the evening. He was trying very hard to walk slowly, not to show how anxious he was to hear news of a certain operative in Romania. Steve was not sure if anyone knew the nature of his relationship with Clara Callen, but he wasn't going to make it more obvious if he could help it.

He had always liked Hetty Lange. She was like the cool aunt everyone wanted to visit on summer vacation. If anyone would keep Clara safe, it was Hetty. Steve wasn't worried. He did wonder what would happen when the CIA found out about the kids though. As far as he knew, Clara hadn't told anyone. He hadn't either.

There was one light on in the tiny office as Steve stood in the doorway. The woman herself was actually a bit younger than Steve in years, but she had lived more than he had. Her short brown, hair was perfectly in place as usual, and her mouth set in a line.

Steve tried to act casual. "Back from Romania already, Agent Lange?"

She looked up as if she hadn't heard him come in, but he knew she had. "I did not go." Her voice was low, and Steve could hear the tone of regret.

Though a strange ominous feeling came over him, he still didn't understand. "Why not?"

"The mission was aborted. By the time I was able to check on Clara's whereabouts... I was too late."

"Too late?" That was ridiculous; Hetty never failed at anything. "Has she gone into hiding again?"

Hetty shook her head. "I am not supposed to share this information, but I know you were here friend."

Steve found it difficult to speak. "Were..."

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, Captain Rogers, but Clara Callen is dead." Hetty looked down at her clasped hands on the desk. She didn't say any more.

Steve had to hold back all the questions that threatened to spill out. He wanted to demand to know how it happened, why no one saved her, and where his children were. But he couldn't say those things to Hetty. She didn't know that he had been in Romania until a few years ago. She didn't know that he had been there since before Clara went back and that he was instrumental in her being assigned there in the first place.

"She was all alone." It was vague enough to be a mere regretful sentiment. But that wasn't what he was going for.

"There were two children." Hetty didn't beat around the bush. "No one knows where they are now."

Steve masked his horror with surprise. "What about their father?"

Hetty shook her head. "We don't know who he was. We're still looking into it."

Steve nodded and left without saying anything else. He would find them on his own. He wouldn't give away the secret he had kept so long if he didn't have to.

New York City, the next day

Nick Fury and Howard Stark met Steve at a small cafe in Manhattan. He hadn't told them why, but it had been so long since he made contact with S.H.I.E.L.D, and they were rightly concerned. In the last 30 years, Howard had gotten married, had a son, and helped start S.H.I.E.L.D and begun Stark Enterprises. Steve hadn't talked to him much since they found him in the ice about 10 years before. He wasn't upset with Howard for any reason, but they didn't have much in common, and with Peggy gone, there wasn't much to keep them on the same continent for long.

Fury was new to Steve. He had heard his name, and some of his reputation, but if Howard thought he would be of some help, Steve figured it couldn't hurt. S.H.I.E.L.D was known for their discretion after all. Anything Steve said wouldn't leave their table.

There was no small talk. Steve had always been very straightforward, and he had lost a bit of his shyness over the years. He got right to the point as he sat down in an empty chair.

"My wife is dead." There was no emotion, no catch in his throat.

Howard stared. Fury made a point of looking impassive. Steve waited for a response to help him decide how much information to share.

"You're married?" Howard didn't hide his shock.

"I was. She was murdered on a beach on the Black Sea."

Fury raised his eyebrows. "And you're telling us this because?" His voice remained even, flat.

"Because she had been undercover there for years," Steve said. "They were supposed to pull her out two days ago, but the mission got canceled at the last minute, and now the CIA has no idea where my children are."

"You have kids?" Howard made no effort to appear any less than baffled.

Steve glared at him, if Steve could glare, that is. "You are no one to talk."

"Yeah, well..."

Fury leaned forward in his chair. "What is it you want us to do?" he asked.

Steve put his hands on the table. "If the CIA can't find them, I don't have anyone else to ask."

"Oh, so we're your last resort?" Howard said, crossing his arms. "That's nice."

"Don't take it personally. At least I told you the truth."

"Lying to the CIA? We are brave, aren't we?"

"Just find them." Steve stood up. "Then you can consider us even for that little incident in Saigon."

"I was fine." Howard stood up and reached to shake Steve's hand. "But I will find them."

Steve shook the outstretched hand. "Thank you."

Over the Atlantic Ocean, two days later

Steve followed Howard through the corridors of the noisy flying machine. It resembled and aircraft carrier, but not quite as big.

"What did you call this thing?" he asked, raising his voice over the din of engines.

"Hellicarrier," Howard responded. "It's kind of a prototype, but it works."

"So my fear of it falling out of the sky is completely unfounded?"

"Battle fatigue?"

"They're calling it post-traumatic stress now, and no."

"Well, no one would blame you."

"It seems that the mind heals just as well as the body."

The two of them ducked through a doorway that was much like what one would find on a ship or submarine. They came into an open room full of machines and monitors. Fury was standing beside one of the technicians in the chairs. Hearing the two men come in, he turned to face Steve as they approached.

"Captain Rogers, we have managed to track down the ones you were looking for." His voice was emotionless, flat. "I'm afraid they were killed along with Clara Callen by Comescu family."

Before he had a chance to feel anything, any shock or pain or anger, Howard's hand was on Steve's shoulder, and he barely whispered "I'm sorry." Then there was nothing.