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breakinglight11Forever Captain:
“Boulder in the Stream”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “It’s been seven years since Steve Rogers retired to the midcentury after returning the Infinity Stones. By 1954, he’s built a contented new life as Grant Carter, Peggy’s husband and stay-at-home dad to two great kids. But he’s never been able to shake his fears of what his presence here will do to change the progress of the timeline. Or— perhaps worse —that he has no power to affect the course of events at all.
A direct continuation of “His Part to Play.” A more plot-focused adventure story.”
Previous chapters:
1. Glimmer
Chapter summary: As he looks into some strange signs outside Peggy’s new SHIELD office, Steve recalls the only other time he’d been called back into action in the seven years since his return to the midcentury.
“Boulder in the Stream”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “It’s been seven years since Steve Rogers retired to the midcentury after returning the Infinity Stones. By 1954, he’s built a contented new life as Grant Carter, Peggy’s husband and stay-at-home dad to two great kids. But he’s never been able to shake his fears of what his presence here will do to change the progress of the timeline. Or— perhaps worse —that he has no power to affect the course of events at all.
A direct continuation of “His Part to Play.” A more plot-focused adventure story.”
Previous chapters:
1. Glimmer
Chapter summary: As he looks into some strange signs outside Peggy’s new SHIELD office, Steve recalls the only other time he’d been called back into action in the seven years since his return to the midcentury.
~~~
2. Siege
Forgoing the cab for now, Steve made his way on foot. The skyscraper in question was only about six blocks away in total, and tucked back from the edge of the street behind shorter buildings. He moved briskly but not hurriedly, taking the walk as an opportunity to formulate his plan. He knew he was limited in how he could approach— he was in street clothes, and carried nothing beyond wallet, keys, and penknife in his pockets —but somehow he was going to have to find out what had happened on that window ledge.
It was probably nothing, of course. Just a window washer, or a repairman inspecting the masonry on the building's façade. Maybe an adventurous bird watcher whose binoculars had bounced an errant beam of sunlight. But the proximity to Peggy, her work, her covert office, was enough to get his hackles raised. And in his very particular experience, there were only so many innocuous reasons why someone would step out on the ledge of a skyscraper aiming instruments at something blocks away.
Though he tried to keep in training, he'd been lucky enough that nothing had called upon him to use it in a long time. He was a civilian now, with the raising of his children as his paramount priority. All his choices since his arrival had been to permit himself to never raise a hand in violence again. But histories like his and Peggy's were the kind that trouble seemed to follow, and he knew he would never completely escape the possibility that it would find him again.
Since arriving in 1947, he'd seen anything resembling real action only once. It had been shortly after James was born in late 1953, when Peggy had cut her time off short when one of the long-term operations she had set up had gone south. One of her embedded agents had missed his last two checkins, and when she looked into things, she found his primary safe house compromised and raided. With such clear danger to both her operative and all their work up to this point, she felt she had no choice but to lead an extraction— even so soon after giving birth. So she had to swing back into action, and Steve would be responsible for Elizabeth and the new baby on his own until she came home.
Things went uneventfully at first. An infant and a toddler together were a big job for just one person, but he had friends and neighbors who kindly lent him a hand. The Jarvises were delighted to mind Jamie for a few hours, or their neighbor friends Don and Rishun Hayward would have Elizabeth over to play with their daughters Keiko and Sakura. But it was on the evening of the fourth day that Steve discovered something was not right.
He didn't always sleep much when Peggy wasn't home to crawl into bed with; sometimes if he was occupied with something, he wouldn't bother at all. It was by pure luck that this was one of those evenings, when he'd been on a good run with sketching that took him well past midnight. Then he'd settled in with a book in the living room while he was listening for the baby, who was still waking up to be fed in the middle of most nights.
It was just before 1AM when he first began to notice it. It was faint, and not frequent; he would not have perceived it if not for his super soldier hearing. It was no more than a rustling of the foliage outside in the yard, drifting in intermittently through the open window. At first he thought it was nothing, the stirring of animals, or the wind. But when he began hearing it over and over again, it was clear it would have taken an army of raccoons, and there was no chance they would have been that quiet.
Steve put his book aside and took steps toward the front window. Then he stopped, as the old instincts kicked in. He reached to turn the table side lamp light low, then approached the window from an angle that pressed him in against the wall. Hidden from outside view, he peered into the darkness of his front yard, scanning for signs of anything out of the ordinary.
He remained there for some time, watching, waiting. All was still for a long while, without even a night bird to break the silence. But Steve's patience was rewarded; the tale was told in the shifting of leaves and branches, the sound of careful steps on earth. Senses less keen than his would have missed them. Men of different experience would not have known what they meant.
Steve went from window to window, taking care to remain out of sight, assessing the perimeter of his house and yard. Whoever they were, they were good, keeping themselves out of sight of the house. But the signs of covert approach were there for one who knew how to look for them— the car parked a little ways down the street that belonged to none of the neighbors, the new leaves shed by the trees that had been climbed to traverse the fence. There was no doubt about it, someone or several someones were ensconced in various hiding places to scope out the house, and all he could do was hope he could scope them out first.
His brain raced as he worked his way methodically through this reconnaissance. What could they possibly be after? Had his identity been discovered? Had Peggy been targeted through her work? Or— his blood ran cold at the thought —had his children been identified, as the offspring of a super soldier they were?
In his time Steve had faces sieges, ambushes, more than his share of opponents who outnumbered him before. He knew how to handle himself. But his children were here in the house now. He had no idea what capabilities were closing in around him here. And whether they were the target or not, the kids would be in the line of fire. He could take no chances about them.
Still taking pains to keep out of sight of the windows, Steve made his way to the kitchen to pick up the phone.
Carefully he dialed, held the receiver to his ear, and waited. It rang four times, Steve's teeth setting tighter with each one. Finally on the fifth it picked up, and a bleary male voice came over the line. "Hello? Hayward residence."
"Hi, Don, it's Grant," Steve said evenly. "So sorry to bother you at this time of night."
"Grant?" Don echoed, coming into sharper focus. "Is everything okay?"
"Rishun wouldn't happen to be around, would she?"
There was a pause, as Don took that in and processed it. "Yes. I'll put her on."
A few moments passed, Steve gripping the receiver until his knuckles turned white. Then Rishun's voice at last came through. "Grant? What's going on?"
"I hate to trouble you this late," he said. "But I think I've found that lost cat of yours."
There was no lost cat, which was enough for Rishun to catch on. "Something's wrong."
"That's right. But I'll have to bring him back tomorrow. It's just me in the house, and I don't like to leave the children."
"My God. Are they in danger? Do you need help?"
"Yes, I think that would be best. If it isn't too much trouble."
"I'll be there. Hold on just a little bit longer."
Relief washed over Steve, but he did his best to keep it out of his voice. "Thank you, Rishun. I really appreciate it. Goodnight."
He laid the receiver in the cradle, and breathed deep without making a sound.
~~~
Next chapter: 3. Backup
2. Siege
Forgoing the cab for now, Steve made his way on foot. The skyscraper in question was only about six blocks away in total, and tucked back from the edge of the street behind shorter buildings. He moved briskly but not hurriedly, taking the walk as an opportunity to formulate his plan. He knew he was limited in how he could approach— he was in street clothes, and carried nothing beyond wallet, keys, and penknife in his pockets —but somehow he was going to have to find out what had happened on that window ledge.
It was probably nothing, of course. Just a window washer, or a repairman inspecting the masonry on the building's façade. Maybe an adventurous bird watcher whose binoculars had bounced an errant beam of sunlight. But the proximity to Peggy, her work, her covert office, was enough to get his hackles raised. And in his very particular experience, there were only so many innocuous reasons why someone would step out on the ledge of a skyscraper aiming instruments at something blocks away.
Though he tried to keep in training, he'd been lucky enough that nothing had called upon him to use it in a long time. He was a civilian now, with the raising of his children as his paramount priority. All his choices since his arrival had been to permit himself to never raise a hand in violence again. But histories like his and Peggy's were the kind that trouble seemed to follow, and he knew he would never completely escape the possibility that it would find him again.
Since arriving in 1947, he'd seen anything resembling real action only once. It had been shortly after James was born in late 1953, when Peggy had cut her time off short when one of the long-term operations she had set up had gone south. One of her embedded agents had missed his last two checkins, and when she looked into things, she found his primary safe house compromised and raided. With such clear danger to both her operative and all their work up to this point, she felt she had no choice but to lead an extraction— even so soon after giving birth. So she had to swing back into action, and Steve would be responsible for Elizabeth and the new baby on his own until she came home.
Things went uneventfully at first. An infant and a toddler together were a big job for just one person, but he had friends and neighbors who kindly lent him a hand. The Jarvises were delighted to mind Jamie for a few hours, or their neighbor friends Don and Rishun Hayward would have Elizabeth over to play with their daughters Keiko and Sakura. But it was on the evening of the fourth day that Steve discovered something was not right.
He didn't always sleep much when Peggy wasn't home to crawl into bed with; sometimes if he was occupied with something, he wouldn't bother at all. It was by pure luck that this was one of those evenings, when he'd been on a good run with sketching that took him well past midnight. Then he'd settled in with a book in the living room while he was listening for the baby, who was still waking up to be fed in the middle of most nights.
It was just before 1AM when he first began to notice it. It was faint, and not frequent; he would not have perceived it if not for his super soldier hearing. It was no more than a rustling of the foliage outside in the yard, drifting in intermittently through the open window. At first he thought it was nothing, the stirring of animals, or the wind. But when he began hearing it over and over again, it was clear it would have taken an army of raccoons, and there was no chance they would have been that quiet.
Steve put his book aside and took steps toward the front window. Then he stopped, as the old instincts kicked in. He reached to turn the table side lamp light low, then approached the window from an angle that pressed him in against the wall. Hidden from outside view, he peered into the darkness of his front yard, scanning for signs of anything out of the ordinary.
He remained there for some time, watching, waiting. All was still for a long while, without even a night bird to break the silence. But Steve's patience was rewarded; the tale was told in the shifting of leaves and branches, the sound of careful steps on earth. Senses less keen than his would have missed them. Men of different experience would not have known what they meant.
Steve went from window to window, taking care to remain out of sight, assessing the perimeter of his house and yard. Whoever they were, they were good, keeping themselves out of sight of the house. But the signs of covert approach were there for one who knew how to look for them— the car parked a little ways down the street that belonged to none of the neighbors, the new leaves shed by the trees that had been climbed to traverse the fence. There was no doubt about it, someone or several someones were ensconced in various hiding places to scope out the house, and all he could do was hope he could scope them out first.
His brain raced as he worked his way methodically through this reconnaissance. What could they possibly be after? Had his identity been discovered? Had Peggy been targeted through her work? Or— his blood ran cold at the thought —had his children been identified, as the offspring of a super soldier they were?
In his time Steve had faces sieges, ambushes, more than his share of opponents who outnumbered him before. He knew how to handle himself. But his children were here in the house now. He had no idea what capabilities were closing in around him here. And whether they were the target or not, the kids would be in the line of fire. He could take no chances about them.
Still taking pains to keep out of sight of the windows, Steve made his way to the kitchen to pick up the phone.
Carefully he dialed, held the receiver to his ear, and waited. It rang four times, Steve's teeth setting tighter with each one. Finally on the fifth it picked up, and a bleary male voice came over the line. "Hello? Hayward residence."
"Hi, Don, it's Grant," Steve said evenly. "So sorry to bother you at this time of night."
"Grant?" Don echoed, coming into sharper focus. "Is everything okay?"
"Rishun wouldn't happen to be around, would she?"
There was a pause, as Don took that in and processed it. "Yes. I'll put her on."
A few moments passed, Steve gripping the receiver until his knuckles turned white. Then Rishun's voice at last came through. "Grant? What's going on?"
"I hate to trouble you this late," he said. "But I think I've found that lost cat of yours."
There was no lost cat, which was enough for Rishun to catch on. "Something's wrong."
"That's right. But I'll have to bring him back tomorrow. It's just me in the house, and I don't like to leave the children."
"My God. Are they in danger? Do you need help?"
"Yes, I think that would be best. If it isn't too much trouble."
"I'll be there. Hold on just a little bit longer."
Relief washed over Steve, but he did his best to keep it out of his voice. "Thank you, Rishun. I really appreciate it. Goodnight."
He laid the receiver in the cradle, and breathed deep without making a sound.
~~~
Next chapter: 3. Backup
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