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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
2. Siege
Chapter summary: Steve prepares to defend against a strike team invading his home, with the help of his capable neighbor Rishun Hayward.
“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
2. Siege
Chapter summary: Steve prepares to defend against a strike team invading his home, with the help of his capable neighbor Rishun Hayward.
~~~
3. Backup
In the time he waited for Rishun, Steve attempted to maintain the impression that nothing was amiss in the house. He threw on the hi fi in the living room and left the side lamps burning, on the chance of holding them off a little longer if they were waiting for him to go to bed. Then he swept upstairs to look into the children's rooms. Jamie was still conked out with his belly full of milk from his first feeding of the night, and Elizabeth was flopped on her belly in a tangle of blankets, snoring softly around her thumb. His first impulse was to snatch them into his arms and carry them off with him, but forced himself to think things through. Based on his observations of the perimeter, the assailants were still in the process of making their approach. The kids would be safest if he could cut them off before they made it to the second floor. So with a deep breath, Steve marshaled himself to leave the babies where they lay.
He was in the hallway heading for the stairs when he heard a click and soft steps behind him. Steve could have jumped out of his skin, but he clamped down and turned to see Rishun, emerging silently from the darkness behind him. "Grant. It's me."
He heaved a relieved breath. "Oh, thank God."
"I knew something wasn't right— nobody calls at one AM about a nonexistent cat. But you have an entire strike team reconnoitering your house!"
Steve nodded grimly. "Yep. Five operatives."
"Six operatives."
He cocked his head. "Two in the car, one in the hedges, two at the back fence?"
"And one in the tree in the side yard."
He blew out through his teeth. "Damn it, missed that one." He paused, regarding her. "You managed to slip past them?"
He heard her chuff softly, amused. "I'm a bit out of practice. But recon used to be my specialty. Do you know what they're after?"
He shook his head. "No. But I'm not going to waste any time trying to find out."
Rishun nodded. "What do you need?"
"The kids. We have to get them out of the house. But I don't know how to get past the strike team without them noticing."
"Understood— leave the children to me."
He eyed her. "Are you sure? Getting a little girl and her baby brother out of bed and keeping them quiet?"
Despite the seriousness of the moment, he could see the corners of her mouth turn up in the dark. "Grant, I have two toddlers. Compared to a church or a toy store, this is nothing."
That was enough to get him to laugh. Then her expression hardened. "But what are you going to do?"
He set his jaw. "I'm going to draw out the strike team."
Returning to the ground floor, they assessed the situation as quickly as they could. There were at least six agents, if Rishun's assessment was correct, with possibly more they could not detect. Clearly enough to storm the house and overwhelm the inhabitants within. By this point the phone line had been cut, as a quick listen on the receiver revealed, but even that was instructive. "That proves they're not spying. They're coming for us."
Given the stealth of their approach, they doubted the team planned to come in guns blazing. The neighborhood was settled closely enough that they could easily draw attention to themselves, and it would have been a very large undertaking to control every possible witness. They probably intended to infiltrate rather than assault— to capture or kill while the house was asleep. It was best, then, to convince them that their approach had gone unnoticed, so they would be unprepared for any defenses Steve could put up.
Then they turned to the issue of the breaching of the house. As a suburban home it was not designed to be defensible, with its many large windows and doors leading into the front, back, and side yards. Good tactics suggested to funnel the onslaught into as few points of egress as possible, but they had no way to seal off everything. They had to make a best guess as to which ways they might use and prepare accordingly. When Rishun had approached the house, the assailants had not been in the side yard to the east; there was no street-level egress there and the least amount of cover.
"How did you get in?" Steve asked.
"With the trellis," Rishun said. "I climbed it into Beth's room— don't worry, I didn't wake her."
At the moment, Steve was more concerned about the trellis as a weak point. "Perhaps," Rishun conceded, then grinned. "But only if they've got somebody under a hundred pounds. And if they've got any kind of gear on them, they don't stand a chance."
"Do you think you could get the kids out that way? If you had to?"
"Do you have a sling to carry the baby?"
"In the cabinet in the nursery."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Then I think I can make it work."
"Good. Now go on, we'd better move." He began to pull furniture away from the walls, dragging it at odd angles into the walkways in the house. "I'll hold them off as long as possible."
Rishun glanced around the perimeter, biting her lower lip. "Are you sure, Grant? That's six against one."
"I know what I'm doing, Rishun. Believe me." He breathed deep and paused to look her in the eye. "Please, whatever happens— just make sure my kids are safe."
Solemnly she nodded. "I promise."
He reached out and gripped her hand. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She squeezed his fingers tightly, then released. "People like us have to stick together." With that she turned and silently made her way to the second floor stairs. As she passed through a sliver of light cast from the other room, dimly he took note of the jumpsuit she was wearing— military-issue canvas with quilted leather at the knees and elbows. Very much like the one she gave to Peggy, when she'd needed something for fieldwork during her first pregnancy.
When she was off, Steve went to work. He circulated around the first floor, pulling the shades and turning off each remaining light in turn, like a man preparing to go to bed. Once in darkness he turned to the furniture as he had elsewhere in the house, pulling it just far enough out of place to disrupt the flow from room to room, before hefting the polished maple toy chest. He'd made it himself just a few months ago when Elizabeth and Jamie's toys had gotten to take over the living room. But now he took all those toys he'd so carefully put away and spread them all over the floor.
Having thus readied the living room, he moved on to the kitchen. He shoved the big kitchen table into the gap between the counter and the rest of the room, barricading it with the chairs. He found the big steam iron and plugged it in by the stove, cranking it up as high as it would go. He yanked out the big jug of ammonia from the cabinet and tossed it beneath the table with a pair of oven mitts. The broom cupboard was raided for every mop and sweeper inside, so as to slide the long handles through the stair railings across the steps to the second floor. He pulled out the silverware drawer in its entirety, casting the forks and knives throughout the ground level like birdseed. Finally he went to his study and flicked on one lonely, solitary reading light— the one light he permitted to stay on in the house.
He listened carefully over the quiet hiss of the heating iron, for sounds from the second story, from the yard outside. The faint sounds of approach were clearer now; they would be attempting to breach soon. There was just one thing left to do.
The only guns they kept in the house were Peggy's service sidearms, and she had taken them with her when she'd gone. He briefly considered the kitchen knives, but they needed sharpening anyway. At last he dashed out the door to the garage, which had grown a bit cluttered with junk in recent years and which Peggy was after him to clean out. Buried in one corner was a very nice and very unused set of golf clubs, a birthday gift from Howard despite his marked lack of interest in golf. He selected the heavy driver, tugged off its little knitted cover, and tucked it up under his arm before slipping back into the darkened house.
He had only moments before he heard the locks cracking and the windows prying open. Breathing deep, Steve dove behind the barricaded table in the kitchen. He balanced in a crouch, hefted his weapon, and waited.
~~~
Next chapter: 4. Onslaught
3. Backup
In the time he waited for Rishun, Steve attempted to maintain the impression that nothing was amiss in the house. He threw on the hi fi in the living room and left the side lamps burning, on the chance of holding them off a little longer if they were waiting for him to go to bed. Then he swept upstairs to look into the children's rooms. Jamie was still conked out with his belly full of milk from his first feeding of the night, and Elizabeth was flopped on her belly in a tangle of blankets, snoring softly around her thumb. His first impulse was to snatch them into his arms and carry them off with him, but forced himself to think things through. Based on his observations of the perimeter, the assailants were still in the process of making their approach. The kids would be safest if he could cut them off before they made it to the second floor. So with a deep breath, Steve marshaled himself to leave the babies where they lay.
He was in the hallway heading for the stairs when he heard a click and soft steps behind him. Steve could have jumped out of his skin, but he clamped down and turned to see Rishun, emerging silently from the darkness behind him. "Grant. It's me."
He heaved a relieved breath. "Oh, thank God."
"I knew something wasn't right— nobody calls at one AM about a nonexistent cat. But you have an entire strike team reconnoitering your house!"
Steve nodded grimly. "Yep. Five operatives."
"Six operatives."
He cocked his head. "Two in the car, one in the hedges, two at the back fence?"
"And one in the tree in the side yard."
He blew out through his teeth. "Damn it, missed that one." He paused, regarding her. "You managed to slip past them?"
He heard her chuff softly, amused. "I'm a bit out of practice. But recon used to be my specialty. Do you know what they're after?"
He shook his head. "No. But I'm not going to waste any time trying to find out."
Rishun nodded. "What do you need?"
"The kids. We have to get them out of the house. But I don't know how to get past the strike team without them noticing."
"Understood— leave the children to me."
He eyed her. "Are you sure? Getting a little girl and her baby brother out of bed and keeping them quiet?"
Despite the seriousness of the moment, he could see the corners of her mouth turn up in the dark. "Grant, I have two toddlers. Compared to a church or a toy store, this is nothing."
That was enough to get him to laugh. Then her expression hardened. "But what are you going to do?"
He set his jaw. "I'm going to draw out the strike team."
Returning to the ground floor, they assessed the situation as quickly as they could. There were at least six agents, if Rishun's assessment was correct, with possibly more they could not detect. Clearly enough to storm the house and overwhelm the inhabitants within. By this point the phone line had been cut, as a quick listen on the receiver revealed, but even that was instructive. "That proves they're not spying. They're coming for us."
Given the stealth of their approach, they doubted the team planned to come in guns blazing. The neighborhood was settled closely enough that they could easily draw attention to themselves, and it would have been a very large undertaking to control every possible witness. They probably intended to infiltrate rather than assault— to capture or kill while the house was asleep. It was best, then, to convince them that their approach had gone unnoticed, so they would be unprepared for any defenses Steve could put up.
Then they turned to the issue of the breaching of the house. As a suburban home it was not designed to be defensible, with its many large windows and doors leading into the front, back, and side yards. Good tactics suggested to funnel the onslaught into as few points of egress as possible, but they had no way to seal off everything. They had to make a best guess as to which ways they might use and prepare accordingly. When Rishun had approached the house, the assailants had not been in the side yard to the east; there was no street-level egress there and the least amount of cover.
"How did you get in?" Steve asked.
"With the trellis," Rishun said. "I climbed it into Beth's room— don't worry, I didn't wake her."
At the moment, Steve was more concerned about the trellis as a weak point. "Perhaps," Rishun conceded, then grinned. "But only if they've got somebody under a hundred pounds. And if they've got any kind of gear on them, they don't stand a chance."
"Do you think you could get the kids out that way? If you had to?"
"Do you have a sling to carry the baby?"
"In the cabinet in the nursery."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Then I think I can make it work."
"Good. Now go on, we'd better move." He began to pull furniture away from the walls, dragging it at odd angles into the walkways in the house. "I'll hold them off as long as possible."
Rishun glanced around the perimeter, biting her lower lip. "Are you sure, Grant? That's six against one."
"I know what I'm doing, Rishun. Believe me." He breathed deep and paused to look her in the eye. "Please, whatever happens— just make sure my kids are safe."
Solemnly she nodded. "I promise."
He reached out and gripped her hand. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She squeezed his fingers tightly, then released. "People like us have to stick together." With that she turned and silently made her way to the second floor stairs. As she passed through a sliver of light cast from the other room, dimly he took note of the jumpsuit she was wearing— military-issue canvas with quilted leather at the knees and elbows. Very much like the one she gave to Peggy, when she'd needed something for fieldwork during her first pregnancy.
When she was off, Steve went to work. He circulated around the first floor, pulling the shades and turning off each remaining light in turn, like a man preparing to go to bed. Once in darkness he turned to the furniture as he had elsewhere in the house, pulling it just far enough out of place to disrupt the flow from room to room, before hefting the polished maple toy chest. He'd made it himself just a few months ago when Elizabeth and Jamie's toys had gotten to take over the living room. But now he took all those toys he'd so carefully put away and spread them all over the floor.
Having thus readied the living room, he moved on to the kitchen. He shoved the big kitchen table into the gap between the counter and the rest of the room, barricading it with the chairs. He found the big steam iron and plugged it in by the stove, cranking it up as high as it would go. He yanked out the big jug of ammonia from the cabinet and tossed it beneath the table with a pair of oven mitts. The broom cupboard was raided for every mop and sweeper inside, so as to slide the long handles through the stair railings across the steps to the second floor. He pulled out the silverware drawer in its entirety, casting the forks and knives throughout the ground level like birdseed. Finally he went to his study and flicked on one lonely, solitary reading light— the one light he permitted to stay on in the house.
He listened carefully over the quiet hiss of the heating iron, for sounds from the second story, from the yard outside. The faint sounds of approach were clearer now; they would be attempting to breach soon. There was just one thing left to do.
The only guns they kept in the house were Peggy's service sidearms, and she had taken them with her when she'd gone. He briefly considered the kitchen knives, but they needed sharpening anyway. At last he dashed out the door to the garage, which had grown a bit cluttered with junk in recent years and which Peggy was after him to clean out. Buried in one corner was a very nice and very unused set of golf clubs, a birthday gift from Howard despite his marked lack of interest in golf. He selected the heavy driver, tugged off its little knitted cover, and tucked it up under his arm before slipping back into the darkened house.
He had only moments before he heard the locks cracking and the windows prying open. Breathing deep, Steve dove behind the barricaded table in the kitchen. He balanced in a crouch, hefted his weapon, and waited.
~~~
Next chapter: 4. Onslaught
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