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Maggie Jacobsen was twenty years old when Pearl Harbor was attacked. She did her best to help the war effort, even though it was just her and her old Da at home outside Spokane. They had a victory garden and she grew the sweetest carrots in the whole neighborhood. She won a prize for them, spring of ‘43. When she saw a flyer for a one-night-only performance of Captain America and the chorus, she curled her hair just right and put on her only pair of silk stockings--she’d been saving them for a special occasion.
 
On February 12, 1944, Maggie Jacobsen gave birth to a healthy baby girl in Boulder, Colorado, where she’d moved six months before. She names her Judith Eleanor and only hesitates a second before giving the girl her own last name.
 
“Where’s your husband?” a friendly nurse, younger even than Maggie, asks. “Bet he’d do anything to hold his beautiful daughter.”
 
In the background, the radio broadcasts a news update, talking about Captain America’s heroic sacrifice. Maggie swallows. “He was a soldier,” she says. “He died on the front.”
 
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A year and a half later, Maggie meets a new soldier, this time home for good. His name is Seth Broward, and he is kind and funny and treats her like she is the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t have a motorcycle, but he lifts a squirming Judith high above his head so she can see the parade over the crowd, and Maggie feels like her heart might explode from how much she loves him.
 
They are married six weeks later.
 
Seth is a wonderful father, first to Judith and then to the two more children they have, Thomas and John. Judith doesn’t even realize he’s actually her stepfather until she’s 17, and even then it’s John who brought it up in an argument. She turns her questioning eyes on Maggie, who just smiles sadly. “He was a soldier. He died, in the war.”
 
That night, Seth knocks on her bedroom door and sits at her desk, his black hair now salt-and-pepper. She is acutely aware, suddenly, of how he was growing old. “You know...you’re my daughter. In every way that matters. When I met your mother, she had already had you, and I wanted you both in my life. It wasn’t that I wanted her and put up with you or anything like that. You’re my girl.” He wouldn’t look at her, like some happenstance of biology would negate the years he spent wiping her tears when she scraped her knee or teaching her how to fix a car and climb a tree and win at poker. Like she was the one here with the power to hurt him.
 
Judith reached out, gave him a long hug. “You’re my dad. I love you.”
 
-------------------
 
In the winter of ‘65, everyone in the house except Judith comes down with a bad case of the flu. She spends days boiling soup that no one can keep down and dishing out medicine. John ends in the hospital for three nights, his case is so severe. He pulls through, but the doctors warn he may have weak lungs for the rest of his life.
 
While she’s sitting in the waiting room--everyone else in the family still confined at home--she sees a young resident doing a bad job of trying not to look at her. She smiles at him, tiredly, and he blushes and runs off so quickly he almost walks into the door. He comes back a few minutes later, though, with a cup of real coffee from the doctor’s lounge, which he hands over to her.
 
His name is Richard Michaels, and he’s from Saint Louis, Missouri. He wanted to be a psychiatrist, but they’d put him on rotation in the E.R. He wanted to move home as soon as his residency was finished, but didn’t know if he could. He said he missed the muddy brown Mississippi. He plays saxophone and teaches her the basics of how to play, too.
 
They date for three months before he proposes.
 
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Judith thought the war in Vietnam was a stupid idea that was only hurting people, on both sides. She took a job at an ad agency in St. Charles, where she and Ricky had moved once his residency finally finished. The ad agency asked her to keep her views of the war to herself, which she did (mostly), but she wasn’t all that surprised that they let her go when she told them she was expecting, either.
 
Her little brother Thomas didn’t see it the same way she did, of course. He wanted to do his duty and help protect freedom. He signed up for the service the day he turned 18. Maggie had cried when they put him on the train to basic, and cried again when he left for active combat. Judith, now out in Missouri, didn’t even get to say goodbye in person, just a quick phone call, barely audible over the hooting and shouts of the others waiting for their turn at the payphone.
 
The telegram they’d been dreading comes three days before Judith gives birth to a healthy baby boy. When the nurses ask what name they should give him, it’s Ricky who clears his throat and says “Thomas.”
 
-----------------
 
Tommy never misses a day of class in elementary school. Neither does his sister Jen, who comes along three years later. Judith doesn’t think too much about it until one of the ladies at church asks if they’ve had chicken pox yet. “No, I don’t think so,” she said.
 
“Well, you should keep them home this week, then. There’s a case going around, and kids as old as Tommy suffer mightily with it, you know.”
 
Judith mentions this to Ricky that night, to see what he thinks. After all, he may be a psychiatrist and deal mostly with matters of the brain, but he knows a little bit about the body too.
 
Ricky looks at her with a strange expression, like he knows something that he can’t tell her. “Normally, I’d say Trudy is right. But I think our kids will be fine. They’re strong.”
 
Judith knew they were strong--Tommy was the star player on their soccer team, and Jen’s ability to leap in ballet class had the teachers regularly commenting in awe. But...strong kids got sick too. “But John was strong too, and now his lungs are all messed up.”
 
Ricky sighed. “If you want to give them the week off, I’ll back you up.”
 
The kids had a great time during their impromptu vacation.
 
---------------
 
Judith’s father has a heart attack. The funeral is big and warm; he was loved. Jen won’t let go of her hand and keeps asking why Pa-Pa had to go to heaven. Judith says she doesn’t know, at first. Then she says it’s just what happens to everybody some day, but that you shouldn’t be scared of it. Just make sure you use your heart lots until then, like Pa-Pa did.
 
Jen asks if she means exercise. Judith smiles through her tears and says no, she means loving people. Although a little exercise won’t hurt.
 
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She's thirty-eight and has no grey hair. Her mother had a streak an inch wide at this point. Her face is totally unlined, either from worry or joy. The ladies at the church ask her what kind of moisturizer she uses at night.
 
She lies, tells them it’s something experimental a friend of Ricky’s has her trying. She doesn’t want them to know she doesn’t do a damn thing and still looks like a college freshman, twenty years and two children later. She wonders when her outsides will start to reflect her experiences, just like her husband’s do, his thinning brown hair peppered and a bit of pudge at his sides. She loves him just the same, thinks he’s just as handsome. In some tiny moments, though, she’s a bit jealous that he can so easily show the world the years he’s earned by the laugh lines around his eyes.
 
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In November ‘84, Judith notices a bloodstain on Ricky’s handkerchief when she’s doing the laundry. When she asks him about it, he just shrugs, not meeting her eyes.
 
“It’s nothing,” he says sharply, then goes out back for a smoke.
 
--------------
 
It’s not nothing, but Judith doesn’t find that out until six months later, when he collapses at work and the nurse calls her to come in. By that point, it’s stage four. He keeps smoking until he can’t get out of bed at the hospice anymore and the nurse takes away his matches.
 
When he finally goes, it’s peacefully, in his sleep. Judith feels hollow. He was the best man she’s ever known; her other half. How can she go on without him?
 
And yet, she does.
 
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Two years later, Tommy buys a motorcycle with money he saved working at the burger joint downtown. Judith hates it, but he promises to always wear his helmet, and she remembers Ricky’s voice telling her the kids were strong, so she lets it go. She’s already fighting Jen about a too-old-for-her boyfriend and what she suspects might be illegal drugs, and she can only handle so many battles at once.
 
He does wear the helmet. It’s probably what saves his life when a drunk driver runs him off the road and into a ravine.
 
The doctors say there’s damage to his spine. That there is a very real chance he may never walk again.
 
Two months later, he’s walking; a month after that, he wins a 5K race. The doctors can’t explain it.  Neither can Judith, and she doesn’t care. When they ask her about it, she just says, “He’s strong.”
 
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Two weeks after Tommy comes home from the hospital, her doorbell rings and she finds a man she doesn’t recognize standing on her stoop, wearing a long leather coat inappropriate for the weather and holding a badge that looks almost too official to be real. She lets him in, makes him some tea, and answers a few questions.
 
It’s mostly about her parents, especially her mother. She doesn't mind at first, but when the questions get intrusive, she tells him to get stuffed. No, she doesn't know her biological father's name. Seth was everything she could ever want in a father, and it was none of his business, no matter what his fancy government ID said.
 
She shows him to the door in a huff. Tommy is just coming in as he leaves, and the man gives him a polite nod and a meaningful look. Once the front door is closed, Tommy’s brow quirks.”Who was that, mom?” he asks.
 
She sighs. “Nobody, Tommy. Don’t worry about it.”
 
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Her littlest brother, John, makes it to forty before complications from whooping cough and a compromised immune system take him out. Who even knew that whooping cough was a thing anymore? His wife sits alone and stone-faced at the funeral, clearly drugged to the gills on anti-anxiety medication. Judith wishes she were surprised when she hears about her overdose two years later, but she isn't.
 
----------
 
Judith knows something is wonky. She’s forty-seven, but her daughter looks the same age as she does. Judith’s hair is still spun gold, even though her mom's had been solid gray by forty. She doesn't have any wrinkles in her forehead, and she barely has a hint of laugh lines at her eyes. Her joints don’t ache in the rain, and she still can bicycle as far as she could in college without losing her breath. Her stomach is still flat, her breasts still high. Her friend Trudy at church says she could be a swimsuit model. People ask her if her son is her brother all the time.
 
At the supermarket, she stares at the hair dye shelf for fifteen minutes before she grabs a platinum set. She adds a few subtle streaks of platinum, scattered throughout so that they mimic white. Three months later, she adds a few more.
 
It was surprising how half a head of white hair and a face scrubbed clean of makeup meant people started perceiving her as fifteen years older.  Which was still ten years younger than she actually was, but it was a start.
 
------------
 
Her mother Maggie is in a care facility, only a few miles away, because her health is too fragile for her to live alone and she said she didn’t want to live with Judith and a live-in nurse both. Judith visits once a week, but her mom seems happy as a clam, always spreading gossip about who's dating who (with the female-male ratio of an old folks home, things can get quite cutthroat. While her mom never seemed interested in a new romance, she absolutely delights in following the sordid tales that others were making). It takes Judith way longer than it should to realize that her mom's mind isn't all there anymore. She keeps slipping up on little details, telling stories that Judith knows for a fact never happened. She hides her wince everytime her mother calls Judith by Jen's name.
 
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Five weeks after he graduates from university, Tommy says he's taken a job in the DC area, using his new linguistics degree for something classified. He buffs up like he's spending a lot of time in the gym, and his once-regular calls become more and more irregular. He never says exactly who he works for, but she gathers it's some kind of government contractor or something. Once, when he was visiting and met her for brunch, she notices a gun tucked under his arm.
 
She doesn't say anything about it.
 
-----------
 
Jen stays in town for university and then her masters’ degree and takes a job teaching at a private school on the other side of town. Unlike her brother, she’s never been terribly restless and seems interested in what’s beyond the horizon only when the weather is predicting storms. She gave up ballet in high school, but she still loves dance and even starts teaching modern dance on the side.
 
The string of boyfriends Judith doesn’t approve of drops off sharply after she turns 22, and after that Jen never says a word about dating anyone. Because she seems happy, Judith doesn’t meddle. She’s never believed you need a partner the way some women her age do, and she raised her daughter to know her own way and follow it. So they get brunch a few times a month, and Jen tells her about her classes, English and dance, and the musical performances she spends so much time attending.
 
Judith is convinced that Jen is a close personal friend of the manager for every stage in Saint Louis, and once or twice a year, she lets her daughter drag her to some special event where they inevitably go backstage. Judith has met some wonderful young people that way, and she almost never has to go into how she’s not Jen’s sister. She’s quite proud of the world Jen’s built for herself.
 
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Jen doesn’t marry, but she has a little boy when she's 34. The boy is adorable, all golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. He's named Seth after his great-grandfather, even though he doesn’t look a thing like him.
 
When he's seven, Judith takes him to DC to visit his Uncle Tommy, and they go to the Smithsonian while he's at work. She laughs when Seth stands next to the picture of Steve Rogers before he got the serum. He has the same chin, and when she tells him it's time to go, his face sets in a muleish frown that could have been copied right off the picture next to him. She takes a picture of it and sends it to both her kids. Jen just sends back a smiling emoji; Tommy calls her and gives her this weird speech about not putting the picture on social media because of privacy. As if anyone cares that her grandson is the spitting image of a young Steve Rogers.
 
But she listens, anyway. She's known for a while now that something about her family isn't...normal. She keeps that thought tucked away, and puts Seth on the phone so he can tell Tommy all about the museum.
 
----------
 
She's frantic when the news shows the helicarriers crashing into DC, but Tommy finally picks up the  phone and assures her he's fine, that he'll come out to see her as soon as he can but that he has to go right now.
 
He shows up four days later driving a car she doesn't recognize with another man she doesn't know. They both have bruises on their faces and walk like they're stiff. She doesn’t ask what happened, just hugs her son tightly, starts to to get fresh sheets for the guest room before her son, eyes down and a faint blush on his cheeks, tells her she doesn't need to, that Simon would sleep in his room. The way he says it, shy and defiant at once, says everything.
 
Judith pauses, then turns and gives him a hug so tight she's probably bruising the bruises. "I love you," is all she says, before pulling back patting his cheek once. He's still blushing, but he smiles and meets her eyes. "Love you too, mom." She's so, so proud of him.
 
Tommy and Simon sit around doing nothing for two weeks, just healing up and making very little nuisance of themselves. They’re adorable to watch together--always teasing and joking, with a palpable bond of trust. Two nights in, Simon confides, over a midnight mug of hot cocoa, that they’d been together three years. Met at work and their chemistry had been instant. They hadn’t said anything to her for “security reasons.” Given what she’d seen on the news about the rubble they were still sorting through in DC, Judith could only guess what that meant.
 
She asked about his family, and his face grew cold. “They know about me,” he said softly. “Made it clear they didn’t want to know about him.”
 
Judith’s face tightened. What kind of parent did that to their child? But she knew that some--many, maybe--did, and that nothing she could say would fix it. So she just reached out and placed her hand over his on the table. “Well, this is your home now too. With all its joys and responsibilities.”
 
Simon had smiled back gratefully, then, seemingly uncomfortable with the emotions, said he was going to try to sleep again. He gave her a hug on the way out, though.
 
A week later, the boys were starting to get antsy--she can tell they're both used to a lot more activity than they're currently getting--so she has them put in a raised flower bed in the backyard. It keeps them busy for longer than she expected; apparently Tommy forgot all the handyman skills his father taught him, and Simon never learned any in the first place. So while they're shockingly effective at wielding power tools, especially without proper safety gear, they also have to go back to the store

three times

because they forgot to measure twice before giving her a heart attack with the chainsaw. Then they forgot to add gravel for drainage, so they have to dig back out all the dirt they'd just poured in.
 
She'd feel guilty about all the extra work they’re doing, except that they're both laughing, even while they throw clumps of rich loam at each other. That evening they come inside covered head to toe in dirt and sweat, and both are smiling wide. She shoos them towards the bathroom to wash up and doesn’t even try to hide her fond smile when Simon’s elbow in the side is met with a quick kiss from Tommy, right there in the middle of the hallway.
 
They’re so sweet she could get a toothache, and she doesn’t mind one bit.
 
Her daughter Jen lives across town, and she usually drops Seth off twice a week so she can teach a night class at the community college. Judith likes it--her grandson is great. Smart and funny and very, very stubborn. The first time he comes over after Tommy and Simon arrive, Simon is in the living room doing some sort of computer maintenance on the old desktop she has collecting dust in the corner. He takes one look at Seth and his eyes widen in panic and what looks like recognition. Judith wonders if he's not good with kids. Tommy comes back in and gives his partner a meaningful look, then squeezes his shoulder lightly.
 
There’s something definite about the gesture, but Judith isn't sure if that means she can look forward to more grandchildren or not.
 
Two days later, Jen’s car is in the shop and they catch a ride with her daughter's new neighbor, Kate. The next week, Kate drops the boy off by herself, and there's this weird silent communication thing that the girl and Tommy do at the door while Seth shoulders past, complaining about his teacher.
 
When the door closes, Judith gives him a long look. "She your ex or something?" He looks up at her, taken aback.
 
"What?"
 
"It's clear you've met her before."
 
He looks trapped, just like he did when he was fifteen and she caught him with one leg out the window after curfew. "She's...she's a friend of a friend, you could say. I met her a few times back in DC."
 
“Hmph,” was all she said.  There was clearly more to the story, but he also clearly didn't want to talk about it, and since he was more than forty years old now, she figured he deserved some secrets.
 
Jeez. Judith was nearly seventy now, and she still had to dye her hair to keep herself looking even as old as her son. He probably got carded at the bar still himself. Good genes, she thought to herself, then purposefully set that thought aside.
 
----------------
 
After a month, her son and his partner are still there, and the new neighbor Kate was surprisingly nestled into her daughter's life. Judith has an inkling that something is not as it seems. Both Tommy and Simon conceal their weapons when they go out, but she spots them often enough when jackets go on and off to worry.
 
When she confronts him about it, his eyes are full of knowledge and guilt. "Look, mom, it's....I don't want you to worry about it. It's just a precaution." he pauses, his jaw setting determinedly. "We'll probably be here another month."
 
Well, if they're going to be here that long, they might as well stay the extra week for Thanksgiving. She gives in to fate and just tells Jen to invite Kate over, too. She doesn't say it's because she's her bodyguard, she says its because the poor girl must be lonely out here with all her family still up in DC.
 
They have a lovely day, her children and grandchild and their secret bodyguards. One of whom is also her son-in-law in all but name. Truth be told, she's a little fond of Kate, too. Has been ever since that lunch a month ago when she saw her covertly slide an extra cookie over to Seth with a look that said, keep it a secret.
 
After Thanksgiving, Tommy and Simon leave, as promised. They tell her they've bought a house outside Providence, Rhode Island. She almost believes them. Kate sticks around another month, although she's in and out during that time. Apparently she got a new job in DC. She promises to write. Judith hugs her when she leaves.
 
-----------------
 
After thirty-one years, Judith had retired from her job as a layout artist at the ad agency. They gave her a four-foot-tall framed print of her most successful design, a toothpaste ad featuring the Arch gleaming in the sunlight, along with a lot of hugs and well wishes. She promised to stay in touch, and secretly worried that she’ll get bored. Her friends at church who have already retired tell her she’ll be busier than she was before.
 
It sounds like a joke; but by that fall she has a four-star garden, a regular volunteer role at the local women’s clinic, and dinner with her grandson twice a week. She decides they were right. She doesn’t really mind it.
 
----------------
 
Her mom dies that winter. It’s peaceful, and she was ready to go. The funeral is oddly full of joy, and all of her mother’s friends at the nursing home make it a point to tell her how wonderful her mom was, what a blessing she had been in their lives. Jen helps her clean out the little apartment Maggie had been living in, taking only a framed picture of a sailboat and an old afghan for herself. Judith takes the boxes and boxes of journals back to her house, along with a few pieces of china from her childhood. Most everything else gets donated.
 
She can't help but be curious, so when she starts to miss her ma, she opens the journals, skipping around in time from last year to her own childhood to what her mom had to say about her only daughter's wedding.
 
Then, curious, she backtracks to the time before she was born, reading about her mother's childhood, about her grandmother’s death in '31. About how she felt when the news of Pearl Harbor hit. About going to see a USO show, her hair done up just right. About a man she met there, handsome and brave. How he lifted a motorcycle over his head with one hand. How he took her out for drinks after the show.
 
The journal skips two weeks shortly after that--unusual for something that was a daily ritual--and then when it starts again, the handwriting is smaller and tighter than normal, the typical stories completely missing and instead the pages just contain a wall of feeling. Of fear, uncertainty. Judith checks the date, but she she already knows in her gut what she'll see. Sure enough, eight months before her birthday.
 
Judith closes the book and stares at the wall. She will be sixty-nine next week--she's far, far too old to be shaken by learning something like this. She’s known for a half-century that the man who raised her wasn’t her biological father, but she’s never let that fact spin anything else in her mind. She's lived her whole life without this knowledge and it never harmed her a bit. And yet...
 
She wonders if she can track down this USO performer, find out what happened to him in the end. Except she already knows that she can--she saw him on the news just two days ago, looking even younger than she does.
 
But should she?
 
She hides the journals in her closet and doesn't get them out again. She doesn't say a word to anyone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ten days later, there's a knock on her door and it's a woman with red hair and a deceptively open face. Judith recognizes her from the news, too. She steps aside without a word, shutting the door firmly behind the woman but not offering to take her coat. She doesn't want her here, but she can't have the conversation they're about to have on the front porch, either.
 
The woman looks carefully at her face for longer than is polite. Judith wonders what she reads there. Who she sees.
 
"So, you know then?" the woman asks quietly.
 
Judith shakes her head. "There's nothing to know. It was years and years ago. Just leave well enough alone."
 
The woman frowned slightly. "You know, if I found out, others could too. It was buried in the files, but it was there. JARVIS alerted me to it, but we're not the only ones looking."
 
"And whose fault is it that those files were laid out for everyone to see? How did you find us? I didn't even know until a week ago." Judith snapped back. She could feel her face flushing with anger. "Stay out of our life."
 
The woman huffed out air but didn't break eye contact. Her hand moved slightly, as if to reach out for Judith. Judith was sure it was a calculated gesture, just as surely as the fondness in her eyes must be. "You know, when you're angry, you look just like him."
 
Judith reared back as if she'd been slapped. "Why are you here?"
 
"When your son had the accident, the hospital ran some tests on his blood. The results showed anomalies that were referred to Howard Stark, who put the pieces together. Right now, the only ones who know are JARVIS, I, and a dead man. But it probably won't stay that way for long."
 
Judith felt something cold settle in her stomach, a realization she didn't know she'd known. "That's not true. My son knows. I don't know how he knows, but he does."
 
The woman looked away. "The director probably told him. He's a good man, your son." The tone of her voice spoke of experience.
 
"Do you know my son?"
 
The woman met her eyes again, as if that would make Judith believe her. It didn't, but she wanted it to. "We've met a few times. We have...acquaintances in common." A long pause. "He's never met him, in case you were wondering. I suspect Thomas went out of his way to make sure that was the case."
 
Judith finally turned away, stopping out of the entryway and into the kitchen. She had put the kettle on before she realized it, but then she kept her face turned towards the window, watching the woman lean against the door jamb.
 
"Why are you telling me these things? Why did you come here?"
 
The woman hesitated for a moment. "Lots of reasons. Firstly, to make sure you had protection in case someone finds out who shouldn't. Partially, because I thought you should know--I would want to in your shoes.  A little bit just because I wanted to meet you."
 
That made Judith look over at her sharply. The woman shrugged. It would have looked sheepish on someone less confident. "He's my friend. I wanted to know what you were like."
 
Judith forced herself to maintain eye contact. Swallowed. "Does he know?"
 
The woman laughed. "He doesn't have a clue."
 
"Are you going to tell him?"
 
"Not unless you ask me to. Will you?"
 
There was a long silence. The kettle whistled and Judith jumped. She felt a tiny irrational sting of annoyance when the woman didn't so much as flinch at the sudden sound. But then, she'd managed not to flinch in the face of much worse.
 
Judith didn't trust her, but she found herself being honest anyway. Not like the woman wouldn't have been able to read it right off of the set of her shoulders anyway, if the rumors were true. "I don't...I don't know." She distracted herself by measuring the tea and pouring the water into the pot.
 
The woman opened her purse and pulled out a small envelope. She grabbed what looked like a business card as well, then placed them both on the counter. "Here. It's what little I could find about his parents without actually telling him why I wanted to know. Just in case you were curious. And his number." A pause. "Mine's on there too. If you want me to do it, just let me know. Or if you need anything."
 
Judith didn't say anything.
 
"It was nice to meet you, Judith. Take care." The woman turned and walked away. The front door clicked softly a moment later.
 
It took her three hours to approach the papers on the counter, where, sure enough, there were two numbers written on an otherwise blank card and a sealed envelope with her name written on it in a sloppy hand. She shoved the envelope in the box with the journals without opening it. She looked at the card for a long, long time, trying to decide what to do with it. Eventually, she programmed Natasha Romanov into her phone under "Natalie" then shoved the card in the back of the kitchen junk drawer.
 
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That spring, Seth broke his arm playing basketball. Except by the time they got to the ER, it turned out it was only a fracture. The doctor still made him wear a sling for weeks, despite Seth insisting he was completely fine a week later. His mother complained to Judith that SHE was never this difficult, and Judith reminded her that she had never been sick a day in her life, so that wasn't all that hard.
 
She had to sit down when she realized that was actually true.
 
Kate showed up again for a few weeks after that, claiming to be on vacation or something. Judith didn't even listen to her nonsense cover story, just gave her an extra large serving of cake after dinner and told her to stay in the guest room, since Seth and his mom were staying there anyway.
 
Kate accepted, and they shared a look that meant they both knew far more than they were willing to say. It was nice, in a way, to have someone in the house who understood.
 
------------
 
In April, Judith started to feel like she was being watched. At first it was just at the grocery store and the bank, but soon she got the feeling in her own kitchen. She started drawing the drapes across the glass door in the backyard, something she'd never done. She flipped the blinds closed on the small window by the sink, but then she had to turn on the lights at two in the afternoon because it was so dark.
 
After two days of this, she weighed her options. It was probably nothing. Just an old lady's nerves. But...she opened her phone, took a deep breath. Dialed.
 
"Romanov."
 
She froze for a long moment. "This is...this is Judith Michaels."
 
A short pause. "Hold on one second, Sally." a brief mumble of voices as she clearly excused herself from the room. "Ok, they can't hear. What can I do for you?"
 
Judith started to back off. "It's...I'm sure it's nothing, I just...I wasn't sure, and you said..." her nervousness was uncharacteristic, which only made her more uncomfortable.
 
Romanov's voice changed, becoming both friendlier and more commanding. It was a neat trick. "What is it?"
 
She sighed. "I think someone is watching me."
 
There was silence for a beat, then Romanov spoke, calm and controlled and somehow completely terrifyingly. "I'll be there in an hour. Are you at home? Are Jen and Seth there?"
 
Judith was shaking her head. "No, they're at school. I haven't talked to them at all." She heard some faint clicking, like Romanov was texting on another phone.
 
"Ok. I'll tell 'Kate' to go meet them when school gets out for surprise ice cream or something. She'll make sure they're out of the way. Can you go someplace normal and public? Maybe the library? That's perfect, actually, it's right next to the police station."
 
"I...yes. How long should I stay there?"
 
Romanov was still typing, it sounded like. "Until I get there. Just sit somewhere where lots of people can see you and act like everything's fine. Because, you know, it is." She said the last bit with a surprising amount of chipperness in her voice, and Judith smiled slightly.
 
"Ok. I'm going now. And....thank you."
 
"Don't mention it." The phone rustled, like it had been placed in a pocket or something, but it didn't hang up. Judith could hear faint voices in the distance. "Rogers? I've got an errand to run.  Rain check on that spar?"
 
There was a much quieter reply. "Everything all right?"
 
"Sure. I'll be back in time for dinner."
 
"Call if you need backup."
 
"I'm appalled you'd think I'd need it."
 
A warm laugh. It reminded Judith of Tommy. "Go. We'll see you later."
 
Judith wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard that or not, but she hung up before she could hear anything else.
 
Judith already had her shoes on, her jacket and keys in her hand. She grabbed her purse, then, after a moment's thought, slid a steak knife into it. She didn't really think it would matter if worse came to worst, but better to be prepared.
 
She tried to drive the way she normally would--five over the limit, except in school zones, where it was ten below--but nerves kept inching up her speed. She arrived quickly and walked in. She paused for a moment at the library doors but realized the sensors were checking for barcodes, not metal. She went in.
 
She looked around. It had been a few years since she'd been in a library, since Seth started going to school and she didn't take him to Story Time anymore. It was more or less laid out the same way, with a large and colorful kids area dominating the right quarter of the library, a bank of computers in the center, and shelves and desks spaced throughout the rest. As it was a weekday afternoon, there were a few patrons, mostly in the kids section, but there were a few people her age as well, and two college students who looked seconds away from falling asleep on their laptops.
 
She pretended to browse the shelf with a good view of the doors, but all she saw was a mom with sleeping twins enter, their father coming in behind them. He doesn't sit next to them in the kids zone, though; he grabs a magazine and sits in a chair with its back to the bookcase. His baseball cap is pulled low over his head, his bulky hoodie unzipped in the heat.
 
She finally grabs a book off the shelf without looking and places herself in a chair of her own, with clear views of the desk, the kids area, and the dad, just like Romanov had told her. She opened the book and tried to read.
 
After a moment, she laughed; there was an echo that the books swallowed. She'd grabbed a biography of Captain America.
 
She tries to read, but the words aren't sticking, so she flips to the middle section, where there are photographic plates. She sees black and white photos of an old apartment block, a group photo in a church of a first communion. A sketch, drawn by Rogers, of his mother. Judith stares at that one for a very long time. It actually looks a lot like her daughter, if Jen's hair were blond and curly instead of brown and straight; she even had the same dimple in her cheek.
 
Finally, she shook her head and flipped the page onward. Here were the familiar photographs of Steve Rogers at boot camp, of the amazing change afterwards. She turned past the pictures of the USO tour without looking, to arrive at the stills from his time in the Howling Commandos. The photograph of him and Barnes was striking in how happy they both seemed.
 
She glanced around the room, but Romanov wasn't here yet. The mother with the twins was packing up--one of them was getting fussy, it sounded like. The father didn't move, just kept reading his Newsweek maga---
 
Judith looked down at the book, still open to the picture of Barnes and Rogers. She looked up. Between the ball cap and the magazine, practically only his cheekbones were visible, but they were the identical to the ones on the page.
 
She looked down again so he wouldn't notice her staring. Her mind was spinning circles.

What was in the water in Brooklyn back then, anyway?

She forced herself to turn the pages at regular intervals, but she wasn't even trying to read anymore.
 
She looked up in time to see Romanov walk through the doors, dressed like she'd just come from yoga class with a giant bag slung over her shoulder. It probably did not have yoga gear in it. Judith moved her arm to wave when she noticed Romanov tense up. She wasn't looking at Judith, either; she had eyes on the man, who had also tensed up, visible even from here.
 
Judith stayed put. Romanov walked right over to the man and grabbed the collar of his hoodie, pulling him up and around the corner of the bookshelf so they were out of sight from the front desk. Although Judith hadn’t seen a gun, she suspected least one of them had one in hand, not that she could see them to find out; she could make out some faint whispers, a few words coming through. Her hearing had always been good--she probably wasn't supposed to hear even that much.
 
"...doing here?"
 
"...wanted....she's safe...know."
 
"Are you....them?"
 
"NO!...can't...won't tell him."
 
"He's.....for you. They both have."
 
"...him...back off. I remember....at that."
 
"...misses you. Not even I...miracles...remember how stubborn..little...can be."
 
A huff that could be a laugh. "Yeah. Fair enough."
 
"...scaring her."
 
"I didn't mean to! I just wanted to...her."
 
"Well, ....work. Come...?"
 
"What?!"
 
"Come on."
 
A muffled yelp, then Romanov pulled the man out from between the shelves and started marching him towards Judith. He had a panicked look on his face. Romanov just looked determined.
 
Honestly, Judith had expected more real violence; she wasn’t sure if she’d been watching too much sensationalist news, or if they were purposefully keeping it toned down for her. Either way, she was grateful to be wrong. At least so far.
 
Romanov forced him down into the chair next to Judith and kept him there with her hand still on his neck. She smiled sunnily at the librarian, then turned back to look at Judith with a strange smirk on her face. "Introduce yourself." Even though she looked at Judith, she was clearly talking to the man.
 
"Christ, woman, let go of me." She doesn't. "You know, I was going to apologize for shooting you, but now I'm not so sure it was a bad idea."
 
Romanov huffed, shook his neck slightly. "Which time?"
 
He looked up at her sharply. "What do you mean, which time? When you shot me in the f---" he glanced guiltily over at Judith. "--the face." He paused. "Did I shoot you another time?"
 
Romanov just looked at him. "Quit stalling."
 
He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and looked at Judith. His gaze was unnerving. "Ma'm, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm James Barnes."  He stuck his hand out.
 
Judith looked at it for a moment. She'd guessed, but...none of this could be happening. This was crazy, even more crazy than her life normally was. She didn't take his hand.
 
"Judith Michaels." She let a bit of steel creep into her eyes--she hadn't spent forty years battling the good old boys club at the ad agency for a place at the table without learning a few tricks, after all. "How--you know what, never mind the how. Why are you following me?"
 
He held his hand out awkwardly for a moment, then let fall back onto the chair. His face looked a little guilty. "I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay and all that." He paused, jaw clenching a little. "On his behalf, as it were."
 
Judith narrowed her eyes. "Did you tell him?"
 
Barnes' eyes widened. "What? Why would I tell him? We're...we're not exactly speaking at the moment, ma'm. And I figure that's your decision on whether or not you want him to know."
 
"Then how did you know?"
 
He wouldn't meet her eyes. "The files. I was looking for something else, but...When I found it, I couldn't not check on you."
 
Judith glared at Romanov. "This is YOUR fault, you know."
 
Romanov just shrugged. "It had to be done."
 
Barnes leaned forward a little, meeting her eyes with an earnest look. "Look, ma'm, I apologize if I made you nervous. I just wanted to make sure everything was fine. Now that it is, and I know you have backup like this fine lady--ow, Romanov, that hurts!--like this excellent agent here, I'll get out of your hair. I really did just want to make sure you were okay."
 
Judith paused. "Thank you." She held up a hand to show she wasn't finished. "Look, if you find yourself 'needing' to come by again, actually knock on the door and just let me know. I'm not totally oblivious to the fact that her overprotectiveness is actually reasonably warranted. I don't want anything to do with--all that--but I am aware that it may end up coming to me. But don't stalk me again. Or my family."
 
Barnes nodded twice, holding her gaze.
 
"And...when you see him, don't tell him about me? You're right, that's mine to tell or not, as I decide."
 
Barnes gave a dry ironic laugh. "No problem, ma'm. When you see him, return the favor? I'll be the one to decide if I'm ready to talk to him."
 
Judith prickled a little. "When? What makes you think I'll ever see him?"
 
One corner of his mouth tipped up and his eyes got a little distant, clearly trapped in some kind of memory. "Ma'm, you're the third generation of Rogers I've had the privilege to meet. Not a one of you could leave well enough alone. You’re cats, every last one, and I mean that mostly as a compliment."
 
Judith stiffened. It was the first time anyone had actually said it aloud. "I'm not a Rogers. Never have been."
 
Barnes snapped back to the present, meeting her gaze with a rueful grin. "Maybe not, ma'm, but you've got the same furrow in your brow that Aunt Sarah would get when she scolded me for not washing the dishes properly, so do with that what you will."
 
He paused. "I'm leaving. I won't bother you anymore. It really was great to meet you, Mrs. Michaels."
 
He shrugged his left shoulder in a way that looked unnatural, and Romanov's hand slid off his neck like water. He stood, nodded once at Romanov, then started to walk off.
 
"James!" Judith called, in the quietest voice she could.
 
He paused, looking back.
 
"Take care."
 
He nodded, then tipped his hat at her before turning back around. She blinked, and he was gone.
 
Romanov gave a loud sigh and slumped down into the chair he had just vacated. "Holy hell. What am I gonna tell Steve?"
 
Judith looked sharply at her. "You'll tell him nothing. You promised."
 
Romanov looked over, her shoulders still tense. "Not about you, Judith. About how I just

ran into the Winter Soldier at the library

and then

I let him walk away

."
 
Judith didn't know what she was talking about. She was fairly certain she didn't want to, either, but she had no doubt Romanov could keep her mouth shut if she wanted to. She smirked. "I thought you were a spy."
 
That got Romanov's attention. "Oh, burn!" she said. That was something she'd heard Jen say before. It still sounded stupid to Judith.
 
"You don't have to tell him anything, I mean. If he asks, you just had to get coffee with a friend of yours."
 
Romanov quirked her eyebrow. "Are we friends?"
 
Judith looked at her measuringly. Like Judith, Romanov had the air of being much older than she looks. Despite everything, she liked her. "You know, I think we could be."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Memorial Day was coming up, and Tommy and Simon were planning to come out for the whole week to visit, which means Saturday Family Barbecue. Seth manages to invite his two best friends without asking Judith, as well as their attached parents and younger siblings, so Judith decides they might as well go all in and invite the neighbors too (one side, a couple ten years younger than her with two grown children that will not be attending, and the other a family with three elementary-aged kids and a labrador). Simon swears he can grill a steak fit for a god and won’t hear of anyone else touching the meat, but he’s more than happy to cede the sides to Judith and Marie the neighbor.
 
Judith is on the phone with Jen, talking about whether they should get paper plates or just use the china she has, even though it’s mismatched, they should have enough for twenty people--
 
“Twenty-one” Jen interrupts.
 
“What?” Judith asks. She counts again. “I thought Jayden’s Dad wasn’t coming.”
 
Jen sighed. “He’s not. I’m bringing a friend, Mom.”
 
The way she said “friend” did not make Judith think it was a friend. “Jen, are you dating someone?” She asks.
 
Jen hesitated for a moment, and she was probably flashing back to all the fights they’d had over her boyfriends when she was a teenager. Judith knew she should butt out, apologize for prying, but she didn’t. Finally, Jen spoke up, her voice softening. “It’s really new, Mom, and I don’t want you to make a big deal of it or anything yet. But he makes me happy, and I don’t want to blow it. So just...don’t, okay?”
 
Judith pursed her lips. It hurt that her daughter didn’t want to talk to her about something that was obviously making her happy, but she understood. She hadn’t make things easy before and this was a natural result. “I won’t, honey. I promise.”
 
Jen’s voice was still hesitant, but hopeful too. “He’s...his name is Mark.” The whole story came spilling out quickly--he was an accountant, divorced, with a daughter Seth’s age living up in Chicago with the ex-wife. They’d only met a month ago when they literally ran into each other at the coffee shop, spilling coffee all over both of their suits.
 
It sounded like a movie. Her voice was sparkling when she told it. It sounded like Mark was a far cry from the twenty-eight-year-old drummers and roadies that Judith had so fervently disapproved of seventeen-year-old Jen spending time with; the way she talked about him was different, too. Happy and content and optimistic.
 
Judith told Tommy and Simon about it over dinner, expecting them to be just as thrilled as she was that Jen had finally found someone suitable--not that they were there yet, she kept reminding herself, Jen wouldn’t stop emphasizing that they were taking things slow--but Simon just shot Tommy a meaningful glance and asked casually, “Mark, you said his name was?”
 
Two days later, she figured out what that exchange was all about when Natasha Romanov called her cell phone.
 
“Hi Judith! Happy Memorial Day!” she said, as if they were friends who always just called each other to say hello on minor holidays.
 
“Is...you too. Is there something wrong?” Judith fumbled.
 
“No, I just wanted to tell you to have fun at the party tomorrow. And tell Tommy not to worry, Mark checks out. He should keep his shovel talk to a standard overprotective big brother this time.”
 
Judith felt ice in her stomach. “What do you mean, ‘checks out’?”
 
Natasha’s voice was breezy and a little distracted. “I mean, he is who he says he is. Jen can really pick ‘em--for an accountant, he sure does fill out a suit well, and the daughter is utterly adorable. So don’t sweat it.”
 
Judith sat down. She was shocked and angry. “When I told...James...not to stalk me and my family, that didn’t mean I wanted you to do it instead, you know. Our privacy matters; you don’t just get to pick it apart whenever you get curious.”
 
“Hey, this is just a favor for a friend. It’s not like it was my idea.” Natasha sounded a little taken aback; Judith was getting a little bit better at reading her, and thought that the surprise was only mostly fake.
 
“Who?”
 
A pause, and for a moment Judith felt like a schoolteacher waiting for a kindergartner to decide whether or not she was going to rat out her friends.
 
“Tommy.” Apparently, she was. Judith was both relieved and furious, her ire shifting away from Natasha like a spotlight sliding off a statue.
 
“I’m sorry, I’ll have to call you back, Natasha; I need to go have a conversation with my son.” Judith hung up before she could respond, dropping the phone on the table with a definitive thunk as she marched into the kitchen where Tommy was washing the lunch dishes.
 
“Thomas Benjamin Michaels!” she started. There was a clatter as a spoon dropped to the counter, Tommy spinning around to look at her with wide eyes. “What the hell are you doing, spying on your sister like that?”
 
His gaze sharpened as he recognized what she was talking about. Natasha hadn’t been lying, then. He held his hands up, still covered in soap bubbles. “Look, Mom, things are--”
 
She cut him off. “What? Things are complicated? Because of...because of who we are? No. That is EXACTLY why I didn’t want anything to do with that. Your sister has an ordinary life and she likes it that way; don’t go bringing your work and your guns and your secrets into her world. She doesn’t want them and she doesn’t need them. Neither of us do.”
 
That set him off--he was angry, now, too. “That is exactly why I HAVE to do it, Mom. You’re not watching out for this stuff. Neither is she. If I don’t, something’s going to slip through one of these days, and then my guns aren’t going to be enough to protect her, to protect you. And I am NOT going to let that happen. If that means I have to do a background check on every single person she meets, I’m going to, because I know what’s out there, Mom, and I have been on clean up at too many crime scenes to let that happen to her.”
 
Judith didn’t respond. He’d never talked about what he actually did at work. She knew he kept in shape, she knew he carried a weapon, but somehow she still imagined him in an office, translating coded messages or something. Not...not what he was clearly implying now.
 
His voice softened. “Mom, I don’t want you to worry. I know you don’t want anything to do with all that--it’s why I’m so careful to keep my ears and eyes open, so we can catch anything long before it gets anywhere near you. Or her.”
 
Judith felt tears well up in her eyes, but she didn’t let them escape. She didn’t look at him, either. “I just...I...”
 
Tommy hugged her. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m sorry you found out and it upset you. The whole point was so we wouldn’t have to bother you, so she could have this good thing and none of us had to worry about it, you know?”
 
Judith squeezed him tight. “I suppose. Except for worrying about normal stuff, like if he’s going to break her heart.”
 
Tommy laughed lightly. “Yeah, except for that. But isn’t it tradition for me to give him some kind of talk about that? I mean, would it be weird if I didn’t?”
 
Judith pulled back, arms holding his elbows as she smiled up at him. His dark hair was a little wild, at at that moment he looked so much like Ricky her heart ached. “You know, please don’t. She’s old enough to look out for herself, and I’m pretty sure my...overprotectiveness when she was in high school scarred her for life already.” She paused. “He checks out, by the way. Apparently the daughter is adorable.”
 
Tommy smiled back. “See, it’s probably even less intrusive than a normal person’s Facebook stalking. How’d you find out, anyway?”
 
Judith paused. Now it was her turn to choose whether or not to rat out her informant. But Natasha hadn’t hesitated very long before pointing to Tommy, and she surely knew how that conversation would go. So she only felt a tiny bit guilty when she said, “Romanov called me.”
 
Tommy looked surprised, pulling back and rolling his eyes a little. “Seriously? That--I asked ‘

Kate’

to run a standard check when she had time. Not call in an Avenger. Jeez. He’s definitely clean, then. She probably scared his elementary school librarians into giving up his first grade reading records or something.” Then Tommy looked at her, eyes calculating the same way Natasha’s did. “You talk to her often?”
 
It was disconcerting for it to be her son scrutinizing her, reading her body language like a housecat watching a robin outside. Looking for lies, for weaknesses.
 
“I…not often.” She wasn’t actually sure why it felt like a lie. Since the incident with Barnes, they’d spoken exactly once, to confirm that her shadow had gone. They weren’t friends; they were barely even friendly.
 
Tommy watched her face and didn’t say anything. Finally, he just pulled her in for another hug, then turned back to the dishes. He was not as casual as he was pretending to be when he started speaking to her again, making sure to look out the window.
 
“She’s...I’ve only met her a couple of times, but Simon worked some missions with her a few years ago. She’s a good friend to have.” The pause was weighted, like he was carefully measuring his words. “It’s not just that she’s an Avenger,  you know. She’s probably his closest friend in the world--I mean, who's still alive and isn't suffering from dementia and/or brainwashing. Currently, anyway. Wow, I just realized how much that sucks. My point is. If you get close to her, there’s a very good chance you’re going to stumble right into him, one of these days.”
 
Judith blinked. “I won’t. We’re not friends.”
 
Tommy rinsed a plate. “If you say so. Just...make sure you know what you’re signing up for.”
 
-------------
 
When she finally got back to her phone, there was a text message from Natalie:

Don’t be too hard on him, he means well. GTG--big party tonight.

Judith quickly typed a reply, then hesitated for a long time before pressing send.

Have fun.

A moment later, she typed another one and sent it before she could second guess herself.

And thanks for looking out for us.

------------
 
The barbecue was going well--the neighbors had brought over a sprinkler toy, so all the kids were screaming happily and running around the spray in the back corner of the yard, while Simon and Kevin, the dad from next door, hovered protectively over the grill. The one time someone (Tommy) had tried to touch it to check on the coals, Simon had body checked him and then stood between him and the grill in very threatening manner, spatula held up like a weapon. He looked like the actual secret agent he was. Tommy backed off with a laugh and Simon’s shoulders shifted, then suddenly he was back to being the relaxed computer programmer he told the neighbors he was.
 
Mark turned out to be as handsome as Romanov’s quip had lead Judith to believe, tall and only a hint of gray in his brown hair. He was very personable, but the thing that Judith liked most was how he seemed to be completely attuned to Jen, body angling towards her even when he’s in conversation with others. He wasn’t clinging or demanding attention, just attuned to her like a sunflower is the sun. When their eyes locked, it was like they spun their own little universe for just a moment.
 
Judith hid her smile when Jen brushed a hand across Mark’s shoulder in passing and he smiled without looking up. Judith was pretty sure Tommy and Simon no longer had the award for cutest couple in the family.
 
Judith herself was playing Spades at the patio table with the older couple from next door and Angelique, Jayden’s mom. She and Angelique were winning, too, when the doorbell rang, barely audible through the open kitchen door.
 
She went through the house and opened the door, her cards still in hand. She hadn’t seen the man in over twenty years, and the years looked like they had not been kind to him, but she still recognized him. He was down an eye but wearing what might have been the exact same coat as the last time she saw him, asking about her parents and about Tommy.
 
Now, she had a much better idea of what that was about. Him being here was only bad news. She spoke preemptively. “No. Go away.”
 
The man looked a little taken aback at her tone, then smiled slightly. Judith did not like the familiarity that smile implied.
 
“Mrs. Michaels, it’s good to see you. I need to speak with your son.”
 
“No,” she said again. “It’s a holiday. Go away.”
 
“With all due respect--” he started.
 
“Everything okay, Mom?” Tommy called from the end of the hallway. She heard the hint of worry in it, the preparedness, like he’d storm up to the door at the slightest hint of a problem. She hoped to god he wasn’t actually wearing his gun right now, with all these kids around.
 
“It’s fine,” she called back, even as the man leaned to the left to call over her shoulder.
 
“Agent Michaels, a word.”
 
She glared at him, but Tommy was behind  in a second. She could feel the tension he was projecting.
 
“Sir, what--you CAN’T be here. What’s...” Tommy looked at Judith. “Let him in, Mom. At least to the hallway. He can’t be seen standing on our door stoop.”
 
Judith didn’t know what that meant, really, but she stepped back until the man could step inside. She slammed the door behind him and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”
 
The man looked at her. “I just need a quick word with your son and Agent Gallagher. Something’s come up.”
 
Tommy frowned. “Mom, could you go get Simon please?”
 
Judith didn’t want to leave, but Tommy’s tone was serious. She nodded, went out back, and approached the grill. Simon looked up and must have seen something on her face. “What’s wrong?”  
 
She moved close enough that no one else would hear. “There’s someone to see you and Tommy. Trenchcoat and one eye.”
 
Simon swore under his breath and handed her the spatula. “I’ll be right back.” He was gone before she could protest.
 
She looked around, then handed the spatula to David, who looked a little confused. “We’ll be right back,” she said, then went back into the house as casually as she could. She could hear their voices from the front long before she got there.
 
“He built WHAT?” Tommy’s voice was almost strangled in his attempt not to actually shout.
 
Simon sounded both pissed off and dangerous. “Goddamn Stark. I knew he was an arrogant asshole, but that is really something else.”
 
The man’s voice was even. “We can yell at him later. I intend to. But right now, I need you both on alert here.”
 
Simon sounded surprised. “Here? But don’t you need us on standby at the--oh, shit. It’s based on JARVIS. Romanov said she found out through him.”
 
“Exactly. I’ve called in Carter, she’ll be here this evening. Keep your eyes open, gentlemen--if this gets ugly, it’ll get ugly fast.”
 
Judith rounded the corner. “What’s going on?” All three men froze.
 
Tommy said, “Nothing?” as if that would have worked, even without the question on the end.
 
Simon’s attempt was better. “Problem at work. We’re handling it.”
 
She glared at him. “When you have problems at work, they end up on breaking news. What is going on?”
 
“It’s classified.” That was a no-nonsense tone from the man, but he was standing in her house and she wasn’t going to let him pull that kind of stuff on her. Her blood was all but boiling when she hissed back.
 
“Then summarize.”
 
The fond smile again made her want to hit him, but it also made him start talking. “There’s an...enemy situation that is currently being addressed by the Avengers, but until that is fully resolved there is a possibility that the information relating to you and your family has been compromised.”
 
That took a moment to sink in, but when it did, she felt herself go pale so quickly her head hurt. “What do you mean, compromised?”
 
He almost looked sympathetic. “We don’t have any reason to believe they would act on it, but the...enemy combatant probably knows who and where you are.” He paused. “Maybe you should all go on a camping trip for a few days, just until this is all sorted out.”
 
Tommy reached out and gripped her arm. “Mom? Are you okay?”
 
She felt hollow, but not panicked. She assumed that would come later. She patted his hand. “I’m okay.” She looked at the man. “So that’s your advice? Just lay low and hope for the best?”
 
He looked affronted. “Ma’m, you’ve made it perfectly clear you want nothing to do with us, or else I’d tell you we could bring you to one of our safehouses. We’d do that anyway, like it or not, if we believed this was anything other than a precaution. Agent Ca--”
 
“Kate,” Tommy interrupted.
 
“Kate will be here in a few hours to provide additional support that we, and let me emphasize this,

we do not believe you actually need

. This is entirely precautionary.”
 
She sighed. “So, what. I’m supposed to go sit down next to the neighbors and eat a steak and act like everything’s normal?”
 
The man looked like he was biting back a response along the lines of ‘this is what you get for sticking your nose where you’re not invited,’ but he doesn’t say it. Instead, Simon jumps in. “We can say you’re not feeling well, have everybody go home. Or I can fake food poisoning from yesterday’s sushi if you don’t want to lie about it.” He paused. “Or we can sit down with the neighbors for a steak and act like everything’s normal.”
 
Judith sighed. Normal was what she wanted. “Let’s go have some steak.”
 
Simon offered her his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman and started to escort her down the hallway, pausing briefly to nod once at the man before he escorted her outside, even pulling her chair out for her at the table. Her cards were still clutched in her hands, bent at the bottom from where she’d gripped them too tightly.
 
“It’ll be fine. Promise,” Simon whispered before going back to the grill and immediately flipping some of the steaks.
 
Tommy came out a minute later, squeezed her shoulder, then ran out to the kids and started instigating some sort of activity that involved a lot of screaming and running and, not coincidentally, wearing them out much faster. It didn’t miss her attention that it also put him close enough that he could react if something...attacked.
 
She didn’t like paying attention to things like that. She didn’t want to be measuring distances between protectors and protectees in her mind.
 
She turned back to the game, trying to make a smile that didn’t look fake. “Sorry about that. Whose turn is it?”
 
------------
 
The steaks were, in fact, delicious, even though Judith expected not to have any appetite left at all. It was one of those hazy twilight times where everything was warm and golden; it should have been a perfect day. The neighbors with the kids excused themselves shortly after everyone finished eating, as the youngest two had literally fallen asleep where they sat. That seemed to be the cue for all the ‘extra’ guests to make their excuses, and half an hour later the only people left in the yard were Judith, Tommy, Simon, Jen, and Mark. Seth had gone inside to change out of his swimsuit and not come back out, but the sounds of the video game inside carried clearly.
 
Tommy cleared his throat, said something about mosquitoes and suggested they move inside.
 
The neighborhood had been sprayed last week--there were no bugs at all, not even lightning bugs. But she knew the backyard was too open, and hated that she knew it. So they resettled inside at the kitchen table, drinking lemonade and casually chatting. Simon in particular did a great job of carrying the conversation, relating workplace mishaps that seemed so commonplace Mark was nodding along as if he had a story or two just like it. She wondered if these were lies, or if being a spy or secret agent or whatever he was still meant that people stole leftovers from the communal fridge and Reply All’d at inopportune moments.
 
Eventually, Mark said it was time for him to go. Jen and Seth were staying over, but Mark was driving up to Chicago tomorrow to spend the rest of the holiday weekend with his daughter. Jen walked him out, which gave Tommy and Simon a perfect chance to talk--nominally with Judith, but their dialogue had too many missing pieces for her to follow.
 
“Was he serious?” Simon asks.
 
“Even if he wasn’t, it was a good idea. Holiday weekend, won’t even look suspicious.”
 
“Yeah, but where can we go that’s secured? All our safehouses are compromised.”
 
“Not all of them. I took a cue from the Bartons a few years ago. It’s less than three hours from here.” Tommy looked smug.
 
“What? You know about the Bartons? Nobody knows about the Bartons.” Simon’s confusion was genuine.
 
Tommy’s smugness radiated off of him. “Clint knows about the Bartons. And Clint knows about me. Seemed fair to him, I suppose. How do

you

know about the Bartons?”
 
“We’re getting sidetracked. Tonight?”
 
“No, let’s go first thing in the morning. Give Kate a chance to get here, anyway.”
 
Tommy turned to Judith. “Mom, we need to tell Jen.”
 
She jerked. “No!”
 
Tommy shook his head. “She needs to know, at least in the context of why we’re going on a surprise camping trip.” He paused. “You don’t have to tell her who he really is, unless she asks, but she needs to know. I kept quiet before but I’m not going to now. So either you tell her a little and let her choose whether or not to ask the rest, or I tell her everything in one go.”
 
Judith knew he was right, but she’d held out against this for so long, just pushed it aside like it doesn’t matter. But she can’t do that anymore, and she knows it. She sighs. “I’ll do it.”
 
After a moment, Judith speaks. “I don’t want to tell her about Kate, though. Jen considers her a real friend. I don’t want to take that from her.”
 
“Okay. I’m pretty sure we can keep covering that for a while longer. But Kate might want to tell her. She likes Jen, too, you know. It’s not just a job for her.” Tommy pats her hand.
 
Simon scoots his chair back and goes into the living room to play Mario Kart with Seth, giving them privacy and ensuring that Seth won’t walk in at an inopportune moment. Judith and Tommy just wait, lemonade condensation dripping onto their hands.
 
Jen comes back in with a huge smile on her face, her hair slightly rumpled. “Mom, thanks. For...for being cool with him.” She sighs a little. “I really, really like him.”
 
Judith finds herself smiling back. “I know, honey. I like him too.”
 
Jen looks at the two of them and apparently senses their tension. “What’s wrong?”
 
Tommy nods to the vacant chair and grasps Judith’s hand. “Mom has something to tell you.”
 
Judith took that as the encouragement she needed. “It’s...it’s about your grandfather.”
 
Jen looked puzzled. “About Grandpa Seth? What is it?”
 
Judith shook her head. “No, not--you know that Grandpa Seth was my stepfather, right? This is about my...my biological father.” First time she’d said it. It was both easier and harder than it appeared.
 
“Mom, what is it? You’re scaring me.”
 
Judith reached her other hand out to her daughter. “He was involved in the war, in some classified stuff that nobody really knows about, but there’s a chance it was passed on to me, and through me, to you. It’s not dangerous, it’s not important, but apparently there are some….some

villains

who might try to find us because of that, because of what we might have inherited.”
 
Tommy jumped in. “We’ve got people handling it; it shouldn’t be a real issue. But...we’re being overly cautious now. We should go away for the weekend.”
 
Jen looked worried, but not as shocked as Judith had expected her to. She looked down the hallway into the living room, where her son’s sandy blond hair was visible near the TV, then reached out and touched Judith’s own white-dyed hair. “It’s him, isn’t it? Steve Rogers?”
 
Judith couldn’t speak. Tommy answered instead. “Yeah.”
 
Jen just nodded, like a part of her had already known. “Am I going to miss work on Tuesday? I’ve got a shit-ton of meetings.”
 
Tommy smiled at her. “If we do, we’ll have a lot more on our plate than a few boring meeting minutes to read. It’ll be fun, just like when we were kids! Except, like, with cell phones so we can play music.”
 
Jen laughed. “Okay, man, but I’m DJ. You’ve got terrible taste in--” her phone rang. She looked down, answered quickly, mouthing

Kate

at them.
 
Judith could hear Kate’s side just as well as Jen’s, even though she probably wasn’t supposed to. She imagined that Tommy probably could, too.
 
“Jen! I managed to get this weekend off, I’m in town. Doing anything fun?”
 
Jen looked at them. Tommy mouthed

invite her camping

. She rolled her eyes at him, but she did. Kate’s excited ‘Yeah’ would probably have been audible even if they hadn’t all had enhanced hearing.
 
------------
 
Kate showed up at 6 the next morning with large coffees for all the adults and an enormous chocolate shake for Seth. Jen frowned but didn’t tell him not to drink it, even though they were all going to be trapped in the car shortly for a few hours. Judith still didn’t know where they were going exactly, but Tommy promised she’d like it.
 
They were on the road by seven, and by ten-thirty they were pulling up in front of a gate well off the paved road. Simon hopped out to open it, then came back to the window to ask “combo?”
 
Tommy smiled slightly and gave him an intimate look. “You know what it is, Si.” Simon smiled back, and he had the gate open in no time, pulling it shut right behind them. They drove on for about five minutes before pulling up in front of a log cabin in a clearing. It looked like a film set it was so picturesque, complete with porch swing on the wide wraparound veranda and the stack of firewood off to the side.
 
Judith looked askance at Tommy, who just grinned. “Bought it a few years ago; after the thing in New York I got a helluva bonus and decided to do something useful with it. A buddy of mine helped me set it up so it’s totally untraceable. Nobody has any idea this place exists, let alone that I own it.”
 
“It’s nice, Tommy. You picked a good one.”
 
It didn’t take long for them to get settled in the cabin, four bedrooms sparsely but comfortably furnished and the pantry full of non-perishables. There were solar panels, so they didn’t even need a generator.
 
Seth was extremely excited to investigate the creek behind the cabin and the tadpoles that he found in it. Jen complained about there not being any cell phone service, although she still hooked her phone up to the sound system and picked out tunes for them. Given the way that Simon and Tommy kept glancing at their own phones, Judith suspected that the cabin might get

specialized

cell service.
 
Simon claimed to be a city boy--Judith was slightly disconcerted to realize she had no idea what city he’d grown up in, and wasn’t entirely sure she’d get a straight answer if she asked--and that he was in charge only of indoor things, which mostly meant the kitchen. Kate laughed and said she wanted to go for a short walk--

checking the perimeter

, Judith thought--and Tommy hauled out some fishing rods, grabbing his sister and hauling her down to the creek with her son, who shouted excitedly when he saw the poles. Judith helped Simon get everything inside ready, all the dust covers neatly folded away, before taking a glass of water out onto the porch swing and watching her kids and grandson laugh as they hauled up a tiny little fish, probably less than eight inches long, silver belly flashing in the sunlight. After a while, Kate came and sat next to her but didn’t say anything. Judith appreciated the companionship.
 
It was a wonderful way to spend the weekend, forcibly cut off from the outside world with just the cicadas and Jen’s tunes and their own laughter in their ears.
 
Which was why they didn’t hear a thing about Sokovia until they got back early Tuesday morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Judith had dreaded Jen asking questions about Rogers, but she only brought it up once, a week after the surprise camping trip.
 
“Mom,” she asked hesitantly, keeping her eyes on the cutting board in front of her. “Does it bother you? About Rogers, I mean?”
 
Judith didn’t know what to say. Did it bother her? She felt a lot of things about it, mostly along the lines of if-I-don’t-think-about-it-it-can’t-affect-me, but did it bother her?
 
“I...I just don’t want things to get complicated. It shouldn’t matter--your grandpa Seth was the only father I ever needed, you know? It was too long ago for us to bother stirring the pot now. Better to just let it be.”
 
Jen looked up at that. “Bullshit, mom. You’re scared of this. I can see it, I just don’t understand it. What about this is bothering you so much?”
 
She didn’t really know, but she tried to explain anyway. “I don’t want him interfering with our lives. I don’t need a father and I am so much older than he is anyway, and I don’t want him to bring all that nonsense into my life. I LIKE being ordinary.”
 
Jen looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and touched Judith’s hair softly. The blond was starting to show at the roots again--she needed to pick up another box of dye.
 
Jen’s voice was soft. “Mom, are you afraid because you think he means you aren’t going to get old?”
 
Judith paled and turned away. It was something she hadn’t even let herself acknowledge, but she was. She had already started to attend funerals regularly--it was no longer just car accidents and cancer and bad luck; now it was heart attacks and plain old age. Tommy and Jen still looked young, but it wasn’t nearly as striking as her. Jen had deeply etched laugh lines around her eyes, and Tommy even has some salt-and-pepper at his temples now. She didn’t want to be the last one standing, and she was…she was terrified she’d outlive everyone, her friends, her children, everyone. That one day she’d be standing there alone three hundred years in the future, still hunting for a box of hair dye to hide her agelessness.
 
Jen’s arm came around her and she leaned into it. “It’ll be okay, mom. You don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to--I don’t care either way. But...I think you’d feel better if you weren’t carrying this fear alone.”
 
Judith let herself lean against her daughter for a long time. “I’ll think about it,” she said. Jen just squeezed her shoulder lightly in answer.
 
--------------------
 
Once Jen brought it up--and then, just as gently, dropped it--Judith found herself thinking about it almost obsessively. She’d stare at the mirror for long hours, looking for wrinkles. She wondered if she’d notice a genuine gray hair even if she had one, but she looked anyway. She started clicking on news articles that had his name in the headlines. She is beginning to see occasional smiles in the accompanying photos, although it’s mostly still solemn frowns. She wonders how Natasha can be so fond of someone so serious, or if he just acts like this for the press. She wonders if he’s different off-camera.
 
She wonders if he worries, like she does, about outliving everyone you knew. He’d already done it the once.
 
-------------------
 
She accidentally bumps into Natasha Romanov at the craft store one warm Thursday morning in June, for a given value of accidentally. Natasha didn't even try to pretend she really came all the way to Missouri for a pair of knitting needles. "Judith!" She cried in the bright chipper voice that seems to be making fun of itself. "I haven't seen you in ages! Do you have time to catch up over lunch?"
 
Judith found herself smiling slightly, even though she wondered what was wrong now. Natasha never did anything without a reason. Honestly, it was one of the things Judith trusted most about her. "I can squeeze you in, I suppose."
 
They ate at a quietly trendy boutique brunch place that claimed to serve "authentic fusion eastern European fare". Judith was not sure what that was supposed to taste like, but her soup was absolutely delicious. She made a mental note to search for a variant recipe when she got home.
 
She found herself answering Natasha's gentle queries cheerfully, and from the outside Judith was sure they looked like two college friends, now in that hazy zone between thirty-five and fifty, catching up on each other's lives. She talked about Seth's soccer team and how happy Jen was that school was out for the summer--no one appreciates summer break like teachers. She talks about a minor drama at the bridge club, and how she's thinking of taking on less volunteer work over the summer so she can spend more time on the garden. Although Natasha carefully ensures that Judith carries the weight of the conversation, she throws in little tidbits here and there; a humorous recounting of her unnamed colleague (a thinly veiled Tony Stark) and his dramatics over some question about building permits at their new location, about a friend who's due to have a baby any day now. Apparently Natasha has a trainee or protege that she's worried about--it sounds like the girl might be suffering from culture shock or something. Natasha carefully steers clear of anything related to Rogers, and there seems to be another 'he' she talks around delicately the same way Jen used to talk around a drummer who'd broken her heart.
 
Judith doesn't think they're close enough to pry, but she wants to.
 
When no real revelations have come up by the time they're dawdling over coffee, she decides to ask. "Since we're taking time for lunch, I doubt whatever it is is terribly time sensitive, but aren't you going to tell me what the disaster is this time?"
 
Natasha tilts her head, smiling slightly. "No disaster. I just wanted to say hello."
 
Judith raised her eyebrow and gave her a look.
 
Natasha laughed and took a sip of coffee, but Judith still heard her mutter "Jeez, so that's where Tommy gets it." That offhand comment that she was probably not supposed to hear--actually, strike that, Romanov almost certainly knows how good her hearing is; she was definitely supposed to hear it--was settling, a casual reassurance that not everything about her life is filtered through the shadow of a man she's never met.
 
She smiled back at Natasha, who set down her cup carefully and met Judith's eyes. "Really, nothing's up. I just wanted to chat."
 
When they left the restaurant, Natasha hesitates for a moment before pulling Judith into a quick awkward hug. She barely has time to return it before the other woman is walking away, perfect red hair glinting in the sun.
 
"Call me!" Judith calls after her before she can think about it. "We'll have lunch again sometime."
 
Natasha turns her head to smile without stopping. "Sure thing!" And then she's at the corner and gone. Judith knows if she followed her she wouldn't see a thing.
 
-----------
 
One morning, when Judith takes the trash out, she thinks she sees a shadowy figure watching her from the neighbor’s shed. When she turns and looks fully, she sees it’s just a cat.

Cats, every last one of you

, she thinks of Barnes saying.

Never could leave well enough alone.

She wonders whether if Rogers knew, if he’d lurk like a cat, watching.
 
Given his past M.O., he’d probably barrel in like a lion, she thinks, and make a mess of everything that was working just fine like it was.
 
Still. She wonders.
 
------------
 
For the Fourth of July, Judith invites the kids over. Jen and Seth are going to the big show down by the river, but Tommy and Simon agree to fly out for the weekend, "pending emergencies, you know how it goes."
 
On July second, Simon calls Judith. "I'm so, so sorry," he says. His voice has an ironic teasing edge.
 
"Why?" She asks.
 
"Tommy was talking to Sharon, and I'm not sure how it happened exactly but now all the CD kids are going to show up in your backyard on July 4. I was too late to stop them."
 
That...that did not actually explain much, as far as Judith was concerned. "What? What are CD kids?"
 
Simon huffed. “The...shit, I can't believe they actually gave themselves a stupid name, like they're ten-year-olds in a secret club or something. The "Commandos Descendants". They do this every now and again, get together and someone always brings at least two bottles of whiskey and then suddenly it's all remember this story my granddad told and could we reenact it with today's explosives, and it's an embarrassment to anyone who knows any of them. And if you think talking Tommy out of something once he's made his mind up is hard, I dare you to go up against the combined will of the CD kids on anything related to Independence Day. I would sell tickets to see that argument."
 
Simon doesn't usually ramble, and his voice was both faintly stressed and deeply fond. Judith imagined it would be a little like Ricky's golf retreats, although it sounds like this is more likely to involve semi-intentional explosions than a bunch of doctors getting drunk at a lodge on a country club.
 
"They're welcome to drink out by the shed, but no demolition. I am drawing the line at anything over sparklers."
 
Simon laughed. "Judith, you are an angel. I will tell them that in exactly those words." he paused. "I'm planning on hiding out inside the house myself. We sane folks can stick together."
 
"Sounds like a plan."
 
She assumed the CD kids would provide their own beverages, but she bought extra bratwursts and a veggie platter just in case.
 
----------
 
When the doorbell rang at 1pm, Judith started to get up but Tommy raced ahead. "I'll get it!" he tossed back at her. He had been bouncing around the house all day, excited like a little kid.
 
He came back a moment later, with--"Kate?" Judith asked. "I didn't know you were coming!"
 
Kate smiled and gave her a quick one-armed hug before going into the kitchen to put the ice cream cake in the freezer. "Tommy swore up and down that we had your permission to come. As long as we didn't bring sparklers."
 
Judith chuckled. "It was more nothing bigger than sparklers, but I'm glad to hear he passed on the message. Can I get you something to drink?" She barely restrained herself from asking the obvious question--if they were the descendants, that meant Kate was...who?
 
"Oh, just a glass of water. I can get it." Kate smiled that adorable one-sided smile. "You can ask, you know. You of all people can ask."
 
So Judith did. "So which famous lunatic are you related to, then?" It was bordering on rude, but she and Kate understood each other. And based on what Simon had predicted, lunatic was probably the appropriate word.
 
Kate smiled. "Peggy Carter is my aunt." She paused slightly. "Well, great-aunt, technically. I lived with her and uncle Danny for two summers when I was in high school while dad and mom were off doing research in the desert. Nobody knows outside of the CD and our family. I kept it quiet the same way Tommy did--so I could be judged on my own merits."
 
Judith patted her arm and tried to take that in. She didn't know much about Peggy Carter aside from the sensationalized radio programs and ‘inspired by’ biopics, none of which meshed with what she knew of Kate as competent, calm, and razor-sharp.
 
"You do her proud, you know. Even if nobody else knows it."
 
Kate smiled back, then quickly changed the subject. Judith wasn't surprised--from what she knew of Kate, she didn't handle sappy very well. Case and point, the subject she switched it to, a play she'd gone with Jen to see the last time Kate was in town, was all about how overly sentimental the production had been. Judith had already heard Jen's review of this particular performance, and it was along similar lines, although Jen focused her critiques on the costuming and what she called "cheap choreographic tricks" to carry the emotional weight. Great minds think alike, she supposed.
 
The next guest to arrive was a girl who looked so young she could have been one of Jen’s students. She had pixie cut hair and an odd style that reminded her of something from those steampunk cosplayers she saw on the news. The girl carried herself with the same control that Kate did, though, aware of her own strength in a way many women far older than her weren’t. Her bright blue eyes sparkled and she called Judith “ma’m” before helping herself to a beer from the fridge. Kate called her Rikki-tikki-tavi, which was a great nickname or a terrible real name.
 
A moment later, a middle-aged Asian man came in and introduced himself as Johnny Morita, shaking her hand warmly. He stopped midway through a complement on the house when his eyes zeroed in on ‘Rikki-tikki-tavi’s’ beer.
 
“Rebecca, are you even old enough to drink?” he asked sternly. He had the air of an educator.
 
“I am the survivor of a planet-wide ecological apocalypse in another dimension. I barely made it through the portal alive. We don’t worry about drinking ages when the world is literally on fire, you know.” The girl grinned and took a sip of the beer.
 
Judith knew what that meant--the girl was definitely not old enough to get into a bar legally. Apparently Johnny knew that too, because  he reached out and gently plucked the bottle from her fingers. She didn’t resist, although she did pout a bit.
 
“That’s a no, then. How about a nice soda instead?” He said, placing the half-finished beer next to the sink. Judith grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and handed it over.  
 
Tommy came bouncing in and swept Johnny up into a hug. “Morita! I haven’t seen you in ages. So glad you could make it out here. How’s New York?”
 
Johnny returned the hug tightly. “Sweltering. Although you’d know that--I heard you and Gallager got a place up in Massachusetts, it’s not any better up there this time of year.”
 
Judith had their mailing address in Rhode Island, actually, but she wasn’t going to point that out. It could be that SHE had been given the fake address, after all. She hadn’t seen the house other than on video chat, after all.
 
Tommy turned and re-introduced his friend, “Mom, this is Johnny Morita. We were in the same class at the academy. He kicked my ass at half the athletics events, then bailed a week before graduation to become a, get this, a principal at this gifted school out in Queens. This guy is the best.”
 
Judith smiled. She hadn’t seen Tommy this cheerful in ages. She was glad he was happy and that his friends felt welcome in her house.
 
The last guest to arrive was a handsome young man who introduced himself as “Antoine Triplett, ma’m, but please call me Tripp.” He didn’t shake her hand, but only because his hands were full of bags--what looked like a paper bag from the hardware store, another from a costume store, two bags from the liquor store, with two hula hoops slung over his shoulder. She offered to take some if off his hands, but he said he’d just take it directly out back because it’d be safer.
 
Judith must have given him a concerned look, because he chuckled slightly. “I meant safer to keep the whiskey from Rikki--she’s sneaky. There’s not even sparklers in here, I promise.”
 
Judith laughed in response to his infectious grin and held the doors open.
 
--------
 
Two hours later, Judith was helping Simon plate the brats off the grill. It was, not coincidentally, also a relatively safe distance from the horseplay at the back of the yard. The hula hoops had been covered in painter’s drop cloth and then painted to resemble the famous shield. Based on the shouts she was hearing, the paint was now dry and “Stage 2” was about to begin.
 
“You don’t want to know what Stage 2 is,” Simon stage whispered.
 
Judith shook her head fondly. “I’m pretty sure we’ll find out.” She raised her voice slightly. “Food’s up! Save the next part for after you eat.”
 
They ate like they were famished, but soon enough Stage 2 was underway. Simon and Judith sat at the table while the others constructed some sort of obstacle course involving lawn chairs, garden hoses, wheelbarrows, and a plastic skeleton (from the costume store bag). Then they ran it, tossing the oversized hula hoops like frisbees and yelling at random points.
 
Rikki, as she preferred to be called, ran up to the table laughing and holding out her phone. “Simon, will you record this? Cap would love it.”
 
Judith stiffened, and Simon’s face tightened slightly, although you’d have to know him well to see it. He responded to Rikki without any tension in his voice, though. “Rik, you know he’s not the same man you knew.”
 
It sounded like something he’d said before.
 
Rikki’s smile dropped immediately. “You think I don’t know that? That I’ll probably never even get to see him again, even though he’s alive and well here, unlike back home, and that even if I did, he wouldn’t know who I was? It just slipped out, alright? Just...Just take the damn video.”
 
Simon took the phone, his voice apologetic. “Sure thing, Rikki-tikki-tavi.”
 
Rikki groaned at that. “I cannot believe you all call me that now.” She smiled again, dark mood tucked away but not entirely gone. “Thanks, Simon.” She gave him a brief one-armed hug then ran back to the others, calling for them to throw her the shield before she was even half-way there.
 
Simon looked over at Judith, opened his mouth to explain. “She--on her home world, she was mentored by her version of Steve Rogers, even worked with him a little. He was basically her only family by the time things got really bad. Apparently he shoved her through the portal himself then closed it to keep the whatever-it-was on their side. She misses him.”
 
Judith’s heart went out to the girl. She hinted at the tragedy she had faced, but overall she seemed almost unreasonably chipper. “How long has she been...here?” She asked.
 
Simon sighed. “Maybe...half a year? She slipped through when there was still rubble being pulled out of the Potomac; it took us a while to find her.”
 
A holler from the back drew their attention. “Are you recording this?” Tripp asked exasperatedly. He was clearly feeling a bit of the beer they’d been drinking, although his reflexes still seemed knife-sharp.
 
Simon laughed, held the camera up higher. “I am now!”
 
-------------
 
After the frisbee obstacle course came something like a dance-off, except instead of dancing it was increasingly ridiculous feats of strength and balance. Currently Kate was balanced on one hand, a beer can held in the other and her legs trying to kick ping pong balls  that the others launched at them. Rikki was laughing so hard she couldn’t even stand up, and Tommy and Johnny were tossing ping pong balls like there was no tomorrow. They had apparently renewed an old rivalry related to beating an old record currently held by “that asshole Barton.” Tripp was doing something with the radio and insisting they had to pick up the pace.
 
Simon took a slow sip of his fortified lemonade. “You know,” he said conversationally to Judith, “the sad thing is, half of them aren’t even drunk.”
 
Judith looked out at them. Kate and Morita were definitely not fit to drive, but Tommy had always been able to hold his liquor ridiculously well, and Tripp had slowed down a lot once the game started in earnest. Rikki may have stolen a sip or two from a temporarily unattended bottle, but definitely not more than half a beer in total. They were all giddy as school children nonetheless.
 
“I’m glad they came,” Judith said.
 
Simon looked over at her. “Yeah, me too.”
 
-----------
 
Over the next few weeks, she found herself thinking about Rikki at odd moments, wondering what she was doing with herself, if she was adjusting well to having everything she knew ripped away from her. She had liked the girl immediately and wanted her to be happy, to be building something here. Clearly the other universe’s Steve Rogers must have cared for her a lot, to push her through a portal and then close it against whatever the danger was; Judith wondered if the girl was finding that kind of family here.
 
“Where does Rikki live?” She asked Tommy one night on the phone.
 
“Mom--” he huffed in frustration. “That’s classified.”
 
Judith frowned. Why would that be classified?
 
“What are they doing to that poor girl? She should be in college, making friends and building a life, not holed up in some secret hideaway talking to no one but secret agents.”
 
“She’s not---Mom, look. She’s fine, but I can’t tell you where she is, okay? Just trust me. Given the circumstances she’s doing the best she can. She’s not locked away, although there are days I actually think it might be better if she was.”  Tommy’s voice was exasperated, at both Judith and Rikki, she thought. But also fond.
 
Judith had a thought. What if she was living with Tommy and Simon? When they’d first gotten their house they’d given her a video tour and she remembered an awfully large number of guest rooms. It would explain why he didn’t seem worried about her in the least.
 
“Is she staying with you?” Judith asked.
 
“Wh--Mom, you have got to stop hanging out with Natasha, it’s creepy. No, Rikki Barnes is not living in my house. Anymore.”
 
That...explained a lot. She HAD been living there, but had moved out, probably recently, and she was related somehow to James Barnes, who had introduced himself with a rather similarly charming smile. Maybe a granddaughter? Who knows, especially since it was another dimension’s James Barnes. But the girl had mentioned missing Cap, not Bucky...maybe her Bucky had actually died all those years ago and she had never met him. Maybe...
 
Judith drew her thoughts back to the conversation. She sensed pressing for more information would not get her anywhere useful right now, but she wanted to make sure Tommy understood how deeply she was concerned for the girl’s well-being, more emotionally than physically. “Okay, I won’t ask, but you better invite that girl to Thanksgiving dinner, and I will not accept excuses.”
 
“Sure thing, Mom. Simon probably already mentioned it to her. She’ll be there.” Tommy wasn’t laughing but she could hear the smile in his voice.
 
-------------------
 
She had always known that Natasha Romanov was significantly more than she appeared, and had suspected it was not just more, but in ways you wouldn’t even think of, since the second time they met. But the first time she realized it was something they had in common was when they were chatting on the phone, as had somehow become a biweekly ritual.
 
Natasha had told Judith she was cleaning a gun while they talked, but held the phone with her shoulder rather than put it on speakerphone. Spy habits, Judith assumed. It explained why she was only partially focused on the conversation, something Judith would never have imagined a year ago and now just sees as a sign she is letting her guard down, just a tiny bit.
 
Judith was talking about a traveling exhibit that would be opening up at the museum soon and how she wanted to take Seth to see it because of the piece of the Berlin Wall. “I want him to understand what happens when we build walls.”
 
“He should definitely see it, even though the effect isn’t really the same when it’s just a four-foot wide section; it barely casts a shadow, let alone one as long and grim as that damn slab of concrete could in January,” Natasha said absently, faint metallic clinking in the background.
 
Hold up. Natasha’s tone of voice was that of someone who still had a vivid sense-memory of the wall in its original location. But it had come down in ‘89--she couldn’t have been more than five years old. If she had actually seen it--possible, Judith supposes, given what very little she knew of the woman’s past--she certainly hadn’t been old enough to feel the mundane, exasperated annoyance she was presenting. If she recalled it at all, it should be because it had connected to a strong emotional memory, like fear. Even a woman like Romanov felt fear, even if it didn’t control her, and certainly she would have at five.
 
“Natasha,” Judith said carefully, “Did you see the wall before it came down?”
 
Natasha’s attention must still have been on the gun, because she sounded distracted in a way she never did. “Yes, I had a few missions there over the years, always in winter for some awful reason. You’d think it would be better than Russia in winter, but n--shit.” Her voice abruptly stopped as she realized what she’d given away.
 
When they first met, Judith would have assumed that the ‘accidental slip’ was entirely intentional. While that was still a possibility, the silence felt too awkward for her to believe it without doubt. Judith wanted to say something reassuring, but she wasn’t sure what to say, what to ask. She wanted to know, badly, how old this friend was, what she’d seen...how much they had in common. But she also knew how she would feel is someone poked into her life that way, even someone she trusted.
 
She made a joke, instead. “Guess forging the paperwork is cheaper than hair dye in the long run, huh?”
 
A long pause, and then Natasha laughed. She sounded surprised. “Judith, I’m glad we’re friends,” she said. “You get me.”
 
Judith was much more touched than she expected to hear that. “I’m glad we’re friends too.”
 
----------------
 
All of the important people in her life knew about her relationship to Rogers, and they all knew her feelings about it well enough to never, ever mention it. And somehow, that thought made her wonder about it more and more. What was he like? What would he think of her, of the life she’d chosen to live? What would she think of him, were she to meet him?
 
She knew Natasha adored him, that Rikki hero-worshiped him, that Simon respected him. Kate never said a word about it--she was good like that--but her body language said she too had thoughts of the positive variety about him whenever his name came up in conversation or news coverage. She knew Tommy

hadn’t

met him, but probably only out of respect for her wishes at this point.
 
She found herself pulling the box of diaries out of the closet and into the corner of the bedroom, where it sat, unopened, for another week. Finally, she pulled out the one from ‘43 and read through it one hot August afternoon, all the way from the night of the show through her own birth.
 
She closed the book, watched the birds outside the window until long after the sun had set.
 
The next morning, she pulled out her phone.  “Natasha? I’m not ready to meet him yet. But...I think it’s time he knows.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was breakfast at the compound and the Avengers were sprawled out in the common room with mostly-empty breakfast dishes on every surface. There was currently a hot debate going regarding whether the Terminator or War Machine would win in a fight.
 
Rhodey was, perhaps unsurprisingly, rooting for the Terminator.
 
Nat was holding her coffee cradled to her chest like an infant when her phone rang. She took one look at the caller ID and her face froze in the pleasant expression that fooled everyone outside the compound and practically no one inside it. “Hold that thought, Rhodes.” She set the cup down and moved to the hallway. Which was unusual--she typically took calls from the Bartons in front of everyone, and nobody else seemed to call her unless it was for work, which she also took in front of them.
 
“Everything okay, Nat?” Steve called after her.
 
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’d tell you if it were an emergency.” The door swung shut behind her before Steve could reply.
 
He looked around the room, but no one else seemed the least bit concerned. “Who could be calling her this early if it's not an emergency?” He asked anyway.
 
Vision spoke without looking up from the tablet he was leaning over with Wanda. “I believe it's your daughter, Captain.”
 
Silence.
 
“My what?” Steve’s voice had the level calm that most sane people found frightening.
 
“Your…” Vision looked up and finally seemed to sense the sudden tension in the room. “You know, I have no idea who it might be. Could be anyone, really. The possibilities are all but infinite.”
 
Vision was a terrible liar.
 
Steve crossed his arms and didn’t even try to stop himself from looming. “Vision, what do you mean, my daughter?”
 
“You know, it's not really my place to say anything, and there's not really anything to say….”
 
“Vision. Explain. Now.”
 
Wanda butted in. “Leave him alone, Steve. Look. It's complicated, and it was a long time ago, and she didn't want to tell you, and it's her choice to make. Let it go.”
 
He turned his icy glare on her. “Wanda.” It was a command.
 
She didn’t back down. “No. She didn't want you to know, and I'm going to respect her wishes. You should too.”
 
Steve could feel his nerves fraying. A high note hit under his voice, not quite pleading but close. “It sounds like I have a right to know just as much as she does, whoever she is. So talk.”
 
“Steve, look. It really doesn't matter. It was so long ago and--”
 
“Wanda--”
 
Natasha’s cool voice broke in from the doorway. “She's seventy years old, Steve. She doesn't need you waltzing in and making a mess of a perfectly fine life.”
 
There is a long, long pause.
 
Steve looked at Nat, his voice almost pleading. “Natasha, you need to explain what you're talking about right now.” He pauses. “Please. Just tell me.”
 
Steve and Natasha don’t break eye contact, but they both hear everyone else stand up and go out through the sliding doors onto the patio. He feels a bit betrayed that they’re abandoning him, but also grateful that this discussion will be going down without an audience.
 
Natasha gives him a long look, then sighs, looking away. “You know that USO tour, when you stopped in Spokane? The girl with the pretty curls? Turns out you left her a present.”
 
Steve gaped.  “What?”
 
Natasha looked at him but didn’t move from her spot in the doorway. “Steve. Don't sweat it. Everything turned out more than fine for both of them. She's known for years, she has your number. I made sure of that. She isn’t ready to meet you, but she wants you to know about her and that she’s just fine. That you shouldn’t worry, she always was.”
 
Steve’s mind just couldn’t seem to accept what she was saying. His voice probably showed his confusion, but it felt like he was hearing it from underwater. “What? But...the serum made me sterile.”
 
Natasha's head whipped back. “Who told you that?” Steve didn’t say anything, and as usual she knew what he meant anyway.  “Stark Sr. Of course. He's a liar. If anything, it's the opposite. Did you know the samples SHIELD took while you were thawing were still viable, even after seventy years encased in ice?”
 
That snapped him right back into the moment, quickly processing exactly what that meant. “They--they took

samples

of that? SHIELD did? Why?”
 
Natasha just smirked at him. He could feel himself blushing.
 
And then a thought occurred to him that had him so upset he could actually feel the red on his cheeks turn ashen. “What did--how can you know if it was SHIELD or--they could have done…” He trailed off, sickened by all the possibilities of what Hydra could have done with his sperm samples.
 
Natasha was in front of him now, her voice concerned. “No, Steve. I promise Hydra didn’t get their hands on it.”
 
Steve didn’t feel reassured. “But what if they did? How can you know?”
 
She reached out, hesitating a moment before lying one hand gently on his forearm. “Steve, they

didn’t have it

. I checked.” She paused. “I checked

all

the files, and it never happened. That’s how I learned about Judith in the first place. All the samples were destroyed in the lab. Coulson watched it happen to make sure.”
 
Steve felt like the world was spinning. “But...the girl--from the war, the baby, you said her name is--”
 
Natasha smiled fondly. “Judith. She’s 70, a retired advertisement illustrator who loves gardening. She claims to like her life to be ordinary, but she’s got a nose for lies almost as good as mine and when she’s mad she frowns exactly the same way you do. She’s...she’s great.”
 
Steve is pretty certain he’s not really processing this conversation on a deep level, but that it would hit him later. “You sound like you know her.”
 
Natasha nodded twice. “I do.”
 
Steve frowned faintly. “But she doesn’t want me to know about her? Why not? If I’d known I would have…” He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done exactly, but he had a duty and he would have stepped up to it without hesitation. “Helped her.”
 
Natasha’s lips twisted a little sadly. “Help her? Steve, by the time you were out of the ice, she had already started pulling her social security checks. She’s had a good, full life already. She doesn’t need anyone’s help.”
 
Steve’s frown stayed in place. “Well, what about her mother? I definitely owe something to…” he could picture the girl’s face clearly, absolutely beautiful eyes, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name. Which made him feel pretty awful.
 
“Maggie Jacobsen, as you would have known her, married in ‘46 and had a long, long life. She died in 2012, in her sleep.” Natasha paused. “If you want to go visit, I can tell you the cemetery.”
 
Steve felt...sad. He’d thought she was nice, but he hadn’t really felt anything strongly for her, having only known her a few hours. Still. He’d never even gotten a chance to do right by her. He wished he could have.
 
He could feel his thoughts racing as he tried to process all this information. He knew he needed more information, but he felt too overwhelmed to even know what to ask, let alone how to interpret whatever answer Natasha gave him. He settled for something simple.
 
“I thought you said she--Judith--” the name sounded strange on his tongue. “If she didn’t want me to know about her, like Wanda said, why would you tell me all this?” Natasha respected people’s privacy almost fanatically, except for when she didn’t respect it at all.
 
She smiled at him. “I just got off the phone with her asking me to tell you about it. Vision’s blabbermouth moment couldn’t have come at a better time.” She paused. “She says she’s not ready to meet with you yet, so don’t go flying off the handle and get me in trouble, okay?”
 
Steve met her eyes, an odd feeling in his stomach. Both hopeful and nervous. “Yet?”
 
She smiled. “She said not yet. Which, knowing her, does mean eventually. But you’ve got some time to process it, to figure out what you want to say.”
 
Hah. Steve could barely get his head around the idea, let alone figure out what to say. He didn’t think he was ready to meet her, either. They were in agreement on that, at least.
 
“I’m...I’m going to go for a run.” Nevermind he’d already run twenty-two miles before breakfast.
 
Natasha reached out and squeezed his arm fondly. “Don’t burn through your shoes, okay?”
 
He smiled wryly at that. “That was

one time

…”
 
------------------
 
A day later, he cornered Natasha in the hallway when no one else could hear. “Nat? I know she doesn’t want to meet me yet, and that’s totally fine, but...do you think I could write her a letter?”
 
Natasha looked at him for a long time, then flipped his hair once, fondly. “Sure. Write the letter. I’ll get it to her.” She smiled devilishly. “But just so you know, I’m reading it first.”
 
Steve laughed, but honestly, he hadn’t expected anything different.
 
-------------

Dear Judith,

I hope this letter finds you well. Ms. Romanov has assured me that this letter falls within the boundaries that you have set, but if I’ve intruded by writing this, I am sorry.

I never expected to have any children. Growing up, my health was...not the best, and not even my mother truly expected me to live to thirty, I think. My best friend’s family was large, and rowdy, but my own was just Ma and I. After...well, a great deal of what happened during the war is still classified, but I had been informed by what I believed to be a reliable source that, as a result of the experiments conducted on me, I would be unable to father children. I am explaining this only because I want you to know that when I...awoke, I didn’t look for you not because I didn’t care but because I had no inkling you existed. I hope things were okay when you were young--my Da died the year I was born, as you may already know. I remember what it was like to see my Ma worn out putting food on our table, at the insults other kids would lob at me that I’d pretend not to hear. I wish I could say I would have been there if I’d known, but...well, my story is well-publicized, and glaciers don’t yield when you have a prior engagement.

I know only a little about you, which Ms. Romanov told me: that you worked in advertising for many years but are now retired, that you love to garden. My mother always wanted a garden, but living in the city as we did, the best we could do was a plant or two on the windowsill. She didn’t tell me where you lived, or if you married or had a family--I believe she thinks that is your right to tell or not. I won’t pry where I’m not invited--lord knows I hated that when Ma or Mrs. Barnes did that to me--but I’d like to know anything that you’d like to tell me. Mostly, I’d like to know if there is anything I can do for you, and if you are happy.

I have every intention of honoring your desire for privacy, but if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to contact me.

Ms. Romanov says that you have my phone number, and that you are welcome to write a letter which she will deliver. (Fair warning: I have every reason to believe she will read the letter before delivery. I apologize, but we can’t always choose which bad habits our friends have.)

I wish you all the best.

Yours sincerely,

Steven G. Rogers

Judith looked across the table at Natasha, who was calmly pouring a cup of tea as she sat in Judith’s kitchen, looking as if she belonged there. Judith could feel tears in the corners of her eyes.
 
“He really doesn’t know what to say, does he?” Judith asked.
 
“Not one bit.” Natasha confirmed. She had clearly read the letter.
 
Judith sighed softly. “I don’t know what to say either, to be honest. But...this effort? Writing the letter? It says a lot.”
 
Natasha nodded. “He’s like that. Even when he doesn’t know which way is up, he’s...steadfast.”
 
Judith smiled slightly. “Mom’s diary said the same thing.”
 
“Are you going to write him back?”
 
Judith took the teacup Natasha handed her and stared into it for a long time. “Yes. Someday.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jen has a conference at Cornell University for Fall break, and instead of asking Judith to watch Seth, she suggests they both come along; after all, the fall foliage is supposed to be spectacular, and when was the last time Judith went on a real vacation?
 
It sounds lovely, actually. Judith has never been to upstate New York, but she’s seen it on TV. She does a bit of googling and finds more than enough things to keep her and Seth occupied during the day while Jen is in meetings.
 
They ask Tommy to come out as well, but he mumbles something about a business trip to California; it’s not delivered particularly believably, but his regret at missing them is genuine.
 
Some days she wonders how that boy survives as a secret agent.
 
The flight up is completely uneventful, and Judith is immediately charmed by the architecture of Ithaca, all intricate woodwork awnings and balefully cute windows, much of it about the same age as many of the buildings in St. Louis but dramatically different in style. Their second day there is bright and chilly--perfect autumn weather--and Judith and Seth pick up a thermos of piping hot apple cider before hopping in the rental car to cruise around looking at the fall colors. They take every back road they can think of and get pretty thoroughly lost. They stop at a mom and pop pancake house for a snack and Judith tries to teach Seth how to read a paper map while they wait for their meal.
 
(She has her phone in her purse and knows how to work the Maps App perfectly well. But true map-reading is practically a lost art, and she’d like Seth to know how.)
 
Seth has excellent spatial recall, but no patience for physically backtracking along the faint lines in her worn atlas. The waiter smiles fondly as he brings them their drinks, but the only thing he does is point out the window to their left and say, “that’s North.”
 
Seth frowns for a moment, then rotates the map on its side.
 
Her purse starts ringing. Seth looks up, eyes narrowed. “Gram, you said the battery was dead. That’s why we had to use this old

paper

map.” He says ‘paper’ like she says ‘cat litter’.
 
Judith’s mouth tips up as she reaches for the phone. “Sorry. I thought it was.”
 
It’s Natasha. She briefly debates letting it go to voicemail, but opts not to. It could be important.
 
“How’s upstate treating you?” Natasha’s voice is cheerful and relaxed. Not an emergency, then.
 
Judith looks at the cozy diner, at the riot of color outside the window, at Seth still frowning at the map and mouthing one of the more difficult to pronounce place names. “It’s absolutely lovely. I’m so glad we came.”
 
Natasha gives a small chuckle. “You’re quite a ways from Ithaca, you know. Did you mean to go halfway to Jersey?”
 
Judith smiles and sighs at the same time. It was a reaction only Natasha could inspire. “How do you know where we are? We don’t even know where we are, exactly.”
 
The door behind her opens, and Seth looks up. His eyes widen immediately. “Gram!” he hisses. “Look!”
 
Judith turns around, and Natasha is standing in the diner doorway, phone still pressed to her ear. She’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans, casual but definitely recognisable.
 
She comes over to the table, hanging up as she walks. “Saw the car outside. This place has good apple pancakes.” She hesitates a moment, as if waiting for permission. Judith stood and gave her a quick hug, then gestured for her to sit in the booth, next to Seth. Natasha just looked at him, waiting for him to cede the territory.
 
Seth’s eyes were still huge. “Gram, that’s--that’s…”
 
Judith smiled. “This is my friend Nat. Seth, say hello.”
 
Seth’s eyes got even bigger when Natasha solemnly offered him her hand. “Hi Seth. It’s nice to meet you.” He reached out slowly, his hand visibly shaking as he shook hers quickly before pulling his hand back. He did his mom proud, though; his response polite and audible. “You too, ma’m.”
 
He scooted to the side, and Nat sat next to him, leaving him plenty of space. Seth looked at Judith and mouthed “Black Widow!”
 
Judith ignored it.
 
Natasha looked at the map spread out on the table, then at Seth. “So, we’re twenty miles from Norwich, and six from Cooperstown. Find us yet?” Seth immediately looked at the map and started drawing triangles with his fingers. He clearly didn’t want to disappoint the Black Widow. It kept him occupied while the waiter, who obviously knew Natasha, came by and asked if she’d like her usual. After a quick glance for Judith’s nod, Natasha agreed.
 
Judith was getting used to Natasha appearing in surprising places, but this seemed extra unusual. “So you just happened to be in the neighborhood?” she asked jokingly.
 
Natasha smiled. “I was. Honest. The ’office’ is only a few miles from here. I’m supposed to pick up a cheesecake here on my way in--it’s a birthday for someone who won’t admit it’s his birthday. You know how it goes.”
 
Judith smiles. “Because it’s a big one?”
 
Natasha sighed theatrically. “It’s not a milestone or anything, but given the amount of grief he gave--our friend with the summer birthday--he’s afraid we’ll prank him in retribution, and he’s dealing by not keeping his feet on the ground long enough to say hello, let along listen to us warble ‘happy birthday’ off key.” She paused. “The raspberry swirl is our secret weapon.”
 
“Our?” Judith asked.
 
“Second in command’s job is to support the boss, after all.” She smiled like a shark. “Especially in a prank war.”
 
Seth jabbed at a spot on the map. “Here! This is us, I remember that curve over there. There was a waterfall on the left!”
 
Natasha looked at the map. “You’re good, kiddo. You should be my navigator sometime.”
 
Seth looked up. His eyes had mostly returned to normal size, but he was being unusually shy. “Miss...did you really fight robots in Sokovia?”
 
Natasha glanced briefly at Judith before answering. Judith wasn’t sure if she’d been looking for permission, and if she had, whether or not she’d found it. “I did.”
 
Seth’s eyes widened again. “And...and you know Iron Man? And the Hulk?”
 
Judith caught a flicker of something across Natasha’s shoulders, like they tightened for a fraction of an instant. Her voice didn’t show whatever it was, however. “I do. What do you think about New York? Are the leaves turning the same colors as at your house?”
 
Seth liked science, so he was happy to spend a few minutes explaining about the different kinds of trees and the fact that they were farther north, so the leaves hadn’t changed yet back home, and didn’t notice at all that Natasha had been incredibly heavy-handed as she redirected the conversation. Judith, however, did, filing it away in her mind for consideration later.
 
Their food arrived and Seth stopped talking. Mostly.
 
“RHish ish amashin,” he mumbled around a gigantic bite of apple pancake.
 
Judith swallowed her sip of coffee. “Seth. Manners.”
 
“Srry,” he said, still chewing.
 
Natasha laughed lightly before taking a bite of her own.
 
When the door opened again, Judith didn’t think anything of it. At least, not until Natasha froze, fork held out and her mouth open slightly. Her eyes darted to the left and right as if looking for cover. Judith wanted to turn around, but she also didn’t. Something that could visibly freeze Natasha was something serious.
 
As the footsteps walked toward the table, she could tell by their weight they were from someone large. Judith felt a buzzing in her ears--she knew what was about to happen and it couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t--it couldn’t--
 
A voice from behind Judith and to the right confirmed her suspicion. “Hey, Nat, I didn’t realize you were meeting someone. Introduce us?” His voice was friendly, impersonal and even, just like in the news reports--not at all like the teasing warmth Judith had accidentally overheard that one time on the phone.
 
Seth looked up. “Holy crap!” he said. “It’s you!”
 
Natasha just looked at Judith. Her face was clearly panicked. Her fork hadn’t moved. It would have been comical in any other circumstance.
 
The voice was more worried this time. “Nat? You okay?”

Judith steeled herself. This was not going away. She looked up, flicking her hair aside so her face was clearly visible. “Captain,” she said. It was the least personal thing she could think of.
 
Seth sounded like he was hyperventilating as he talked to himself. “Holy crap, that’s Captain America! Like really Captain America! That means she really is the Black Widow for real! Holy crap!”
 
Judith didn’t look away from the Captain’s face. In person, he looked more relaxed, although the frown lines were somehow deeper as well. He was studying her questioningly. He clearly saw something he recognized but couldn’t quite place. He probably thought she was a reporter who’d interviewed him once or something.
 
She just waited.
 
When it clicked, it was obvious. His face turned totally pale and he actually reached behind himself to grip the back of the chair from another table.
 
He looked at Natasha, who still hadn’t moved the fork. “Is this--this is--” he looked over at Judith. “Ma’m.”
 
Judith huffed once, in surprise and relief and humor. She gestured to the seat he was holding, and he swung it around and sunk into it almost automatically. She held out a hand. “Judith, please.”
 
It was surreal, like watching the scene from underwater. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears and her grandson still mumbling to himself as he panicked about meeting his heroes in his second-best shirt.
 
“Steve Rogers, ma’m. Judith, I mean. It’s...I’ve wanted to meet you.” He looked incredibly young at the moment.
 
Judith found herself smiling in genuine warmth. “You too. I mean, this is quite a surprise, but it’s good to meet you as well.”
 
She dropped his hand and moved to clutch her coffee cup more to have something to hold onto than because she was planning to drink anything. Her eyes dropped to her hands. They were shaking. She glanced back up. He was watching her, eyes still wide and face still pale. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally saw Natasha’s fork move, back down to the plate, food still on top.
 
That broke the spell, and the Captain glanced over at Natasha, then past her, to Seth. Judith felt lucky she had been watching at that moment, because his mouth opened and he literally gaped like a fish.
 
In the back of her mind, a hysterical voice said that Natasha would be able to get ahold of the security footage later so she could see these two identical looks of awestruck amazement combined with a hint of horror.
 
It was Natasha who spoke. “Cap, this is my new friend Seth.”
 
The captain just transferred his look to her for a moment. She made the universal head bob for “Come ON, get it together,” and that seemed to shake him out of it. He held his hand awkwardly across the table.
 
“Nice to meet you, Seth,” he said sincerely.
 
“Holy crap, Black Widow just called me her friend,” Seth said at the exact same time.
 
There was a moment of silence, then everyone started laughing except Seth. Rogers kept his hand out, though, and after a moment, Seth shook it quickly. That got him fond smiles from the whole table. He ducked his head and fiddled with the edge of the folded map, avoiding their eyes. Everyone else just sat in awkward silence, eyes darting from face to face and flicking away quickly before actual eye contact could be made.
 
Unsurprisingly, it was Natasha who spoke first. She firmly believed in lampshading, Judith knew. “So this is awkward.”
 
That got a stilted laugh out of Rogers and a sarcastic response. “Um...yeah.” A guilty glance at Judith had him flushing. “Not that...I mean, not that I’m implying it’s your fault or anything...It’s just that I didn’t...I hadn’t expected…”
 
Natasha cuffed the back of his head fondly and he closed his mouth abruptly, glaring at her. “Stop talking. We all know why this is awkward, and that awkward doesn’t mean bad. But you’re not helping.”
 
Seth looks up from the map he wasn’t reading. “Why is it awkward?”
 
Natasha looked caught, but she was quick on her feet. “Because Cap here forgot he had to carry a birthday cake back on his motorcycle. So he’s hitching a ride with me.”
 
Seth looked skeptical. “Why would Cap be in charge of picking up the cake? Shouldn’t he have, like, people for that kind of stuff?”
 
That got a genuine laugh out of Natasha. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s got me.” She looked shrewdly at the other two. “Hey, want to come help pick out War Machine’s birthday cake?”
 
Seth’s eyes again became saucers as he nodded frantically. In under a minute, they were both across the diner, staring into the pastry case, leaving Judith and the Captain sitting at the table awkwardly.
 
He spoke up. “Do you live...I mean, I swear I had no idea you were here when I walked in, I didn’t mean...Natasha said you wanted space and I wasn’t going to break that trust, but I really wanted to meet you too, and I just...I’m...How are you?”
 
Judith looked at him. He was so young, younger even than Tommy in so many ways. She was still scared, but not, surprisingly, of talking to him. “I’m fine, as I’m sure Nat told you,” and then after a moment, all the things she knew he meant to be asking but couldn’t find the words for. “We don’t live around here--we’re just up for a change of scenery.” She took a deep breath. “With his mom. She’s a teacher, here for a conference. I’ve a son, too, but he’s out in California at the moment.”
 
His eyes widened, although it shouldn’t really have surprised him.. It reminded her of Seth. She looked over at the case, where the cashier was now boxing up some sort of dessert and Natasha had her wallet out.
 
“Look, Seth doesn’t...he doesn’t know about any of this and I’d like to keep it that way for now. It’s not that I don’t want to talk more, just…” she trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.
 
Rogers was nodding, though, and his expression was one of understanding. “Of course. Of course, I’m sorry that I upset you. I really didn’t know you were here.”
 
Judith shook her head, reaching one hand out to brush his forearm without thinking about it. “It’s not upsetting, that’s not what I meant. Just, he’s young.” She paused for just a moment, not long enough to think through the consequences of her actions. “We’re here for three more days. Saturday, I’ll be free in the morning. If you want…”
 
“Yes,” he said simply. Solidly.
 
Natasha was back at the table, placing one manicured hand on his shoulder. She did an admirable job of acting like she hadn’t heard the tail end of that conversation. “Okay, Cap, we’ve got to get going.”
 
He looked at her and they had a silent conversation while Seth wriggled back into the booth. After a moment, he nodded, looking back at Judith. “Ma’m--I mean, Judith. If you’ll excuse me.”
 
Judith nodded back. “Of course, Captain. It was nice to meet you.”
 
Seth looked up, surprised and put out. “You’re going? Already?”
 
The Captain addressed him directly. “Sorry champ, but duty calls.” It was such an out of date thing to say, but he did it charmingly.
 
Seth looked panicked. “No! I mean, will you give my your autograph before you go? Please?”
 
The Captain smiled, then winced when Natasha hit him on the forehead with a ballpoint she’d procured from somewhere. “Hey!”
 
Natasha was fond and unapologetic when she answered. “Your artist’s handwriting, if you please, not that scribble you put on the paperwork.”
 
He huffed at her, but his hand was slow and steady as he moved it over the map Seth shoved at him, and when his hand pulled away she could see it was a crisp, old-fashioned copperplate even clearer than her mother’s had been. Seth’s mouth was open slightly, but he had enough presence of mind to turn to Natasha and demand her signature too, which she did with a smile. It was legible, but just barely. Rogers gave her a hard look as she stood up, but she just smiled sunnily at him before grabbing his arm and pulling him up from the chair.
 
“Nice to meet you, Seth. Take care of your Gram. Bye, Judith.” She said, still holding Rogers’s arm.
 
Rogers looked between Seth and Judith awkwardly. “It was...I’m honored to have met you both.” He said formally. Natasha rolled her eyes.
 
Judith smiled. “Same, Captain.”
 
She looked at Seth meaningfully, who did his best at a polite goodbye. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Captain America. Thanks for saying hi!” a pause. “Bye, Ms. Natasha. I hope your plan works out for War Machine.”
 
Natasha gave a fond smile and a slight wave with the hand holding the cake box, then forcefully pulled Rogers away toward the door. It was a bit comical, given how much smaller she was than him, and reminded Judith of when Natasha pushed Barnes into the chair at the library years ago. Judith wasn’t sure if it was her strength or her strength of will that let her guide these recalcitrant giants so easily. The woman was something else.
 
Rogers gave them a last unreadable look before the door closed behind him.
 
Judith sighed and set her coffee cup down. Her hands started shaking, so she put them in her lap so that Seth couldn’t see.
 
“Gram,” he said seriously, still looking at the map. “Did that really happen?”
 
She laughed once, a bit hysterically. “I’m pretty sure it did, Seth. I don’t believe it any more than you do.”
 
In the car on the way back to Ithaca, Seth wouldn’t let go of the map, not even when Jen called and he talked a mile a minute about what had happened.
 
Eventually, he held the phone up to her ear so she could talk without taking her hands off the wheel. “Mom wants to talk to you.”
 
Jen’s voice was even, but concerned. “Mom, are you okay?”  
 
Judith took a deep breath. “I’m...honestly, I’m not sure, but I think so. It was mostly a surprise.”
 
“I can imagine. Jeez, of all the places in the world…” she laughed. “Seth says you’ll be back in thirty minutes. We can talk more then. Or not. Whatever you want.”
 
Judith smiled. “Sure thing. Love you. See you soon.”
 
Seth hung up the phone and went back to ignoring the gorgeous foliage outside the window in favor of staring at his newly autographed map some more. It gave Judith time to process the fact that yes, that really had happened. Just like--actually, almost exactly like Tommy had warned her it would. But...it hadn’t been bad. Awkward, yes, but not bad. Had all that avoidance been her making a mountain of a molehill?
 
Honestly, she didn’t think so. A few years ago, when she found out, she hadn’t been ready, not at all. Now was different. She wasn’t sure why, but it was.
 
Saturday, though. Her nerves might set in once she’s had a chance to actually process it, but right now she just felt curious. Well, apprehensive and curious, but more curious.
 
After so long dreading this, it was a good feeling.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Judith didn’t make it the meeting with her biological father on Saturday.
 
Not because she was avoiding it, or because he cancelled to go save the world, but because on their way back to the car from breakfast Saturday morning, two men with guns shoved Judith, Jen, and Seth into the back of a stereotypical white unmarked van and drove off.
 
The men clearly knew what they were doing; they quickly tossed both Judith and Jen’s purses out the window, then used zip ties to fasten all three sets of wrists behind them. Seth’s eyes were huge and scared, and Judith edged as much of her body in front of him as she could without it looking like she was doing so. It ended up being only a shoulder, but he leaned into her, drawing a bit of moral support from it at least, she supposed. She locked eyes with Jen, who looked scared but also calm. Her eyes flicked to the two gunmen then back to Judith, her chin shaking slightly, just once.

Don’t do anything stupid

, she was saying.
 
They were going over fifty miles an hour without seatbelts; Jen had a point, even before you factored in the guns. Even though her family seemed more durable than most, she was not going to risk those sorts of conditions. The way things could go wrong far, far outnumbered the ways they could go right. So she just sat quietly, watching the two men from the corner of her eye so she could try to get a read on their interpersonal dynamics. She didn’t have any other kind of weapon in this situation. It’s what Natasha would do.
 
They made a few turns before the driver (a dark-haired man in his early thirties, with a large bruise on his cheek, cold brown eyes, and a posture that said he meant business) hissed at the other two to blindfold them. They used sleep masks to do it, the gaudy cheerful puppy dog print almost hilarious in its juxtaposition to the seriousness of the situation. Judith wondered if they’d picked them up at the corner store beforehand--if they usually didn’t bother to blindfold their kidnap victims.
 
The part of her that thought about

why

they wouldn’t need to blindfold kidnap victims was silenced almost immediately.
 
Once blindfolded, she felt even more attuned to the sounds around her and the physical sensations of the van movements. They made a number of turns, both left and right, as if to ensure no one was following them. Judith stopped trying to map it mentally and instead focused on the changes--well-cared for asphalt turned quickly into what felt like a backcountry highway, full of winding curves the driver took at what were probably excessive speeds (but not so excessive a cop would pull them over). They only stopped once, at what must have been a stop sign. After a while, the road texture changed again, the sounds of tires crunching under hard-packed dirt almost loud enough to drown out the tapping of the left gunman’s foot, which had barely stopped the whole time they were driving.
 
Once she noticed it, it stuck out like a parrot among a flock of pigeons--these men were far too professional for something like nervous tapping. Especially in the face of threats as laughably undangerous as Judith, Jen, and Seth. She tried to remember what his face looked like, but mostly she just remembered the gun, a shiny gray thing looking nothing like what you saw in the movies.
 
They probably drove for about forty-five minutes before the van slowed down and seemed to enter some kind of garage or tunnel. Less than five minutes later, the van stopped and the back doors opened. The gunmen pulled off their blindfolds, and the man on the right told them to get out. Judith blinked for a moment, but her eyes adjusted surprisingly fast to the bright lights of what looked like an underground loading dock, all grim concrete and far more lights than any parking garage ever had.
 
The driver was waiting by the open doors, gun in hand, and Jen got out first, moving slowly and calmly. She stood unmoving next to the driver until both her son and her mother were out of the vehicle. “You okay, Seth?” she asked quietly, seeming to ignore the men with guns.
 
Seth looked at her, eyes red. He’d probably been crying softly in the van. He met her eyes, though, and his voice was level when he responded. “Not really, mom.”
 
Jen took a step forward and leaned her shoulder against his. “I know, baby. Just hang in there.”
 
Judith honestly had no idea how Jen was acting so calm. Judith herself felt about two seconds away from a nervous breakdown.
 
Judith jumped as one of the men slammed the van door behind her. The same man who’d ordered them out of the van said, “follow me” and started walking. He seemed to be the leader, Judith thought. The other two jerked their guns slightly when nobody moved, and that got Judith walking faster than anything.
 
They walked through a sterile white corridor with numbered doors spaced here and there, turned a corner, then went through a series of sliding doors that reminded her of a supermarket, except that they weren’t transparent. Maybe some kind of airlock. The last set of doors opened into some sort of medical facility, half lab equipment she didn’t recognize, with a few gurneys scattered throughout. There were five people in lab coats working.
 
One of them, a young woman with a friendly face, came over immediately and started talking to the lead man. “You’re here already!” She said cheerfully. “Have them sit over there, and untie their hands. They need to stretch them out and get the blood flowing again before I can take any samples.”
 
The man nodded curtly and gestured with his chin at one of the gurneys. Jen walked over as directed, Seth and Judith following. One of the other men--the driver, Judith thought--used a knife to cut the zip ties binding their hands. Jen immediately enveloped Seth in a hug, running her hands up and down his back as he clutched at her. Judith found herself rubbing her wrists and looking around cautiously.
 
Judith knew very little about modern medical equipment, so she had no idea what she was looking at. One of the screens near the back was displaying a pattern that looked like what TV shows used to show DNA matches, all gray-and-white bubbles overlapping in a wild pattern. The lead kidnapper was talking quietly to the woman; his body language said he was fond of her. Her body language, which had been open a moment ago, was suddenly closed off, but she was still smiling at him. The other two kidnappers just stood nearby. The third man--the one who’d been tapping his foot and had yet to speak--seemed particularly uncomfortable.
 
After a moment, the woman grabbed a rolling tray table like you see in the dentist’s office and moved over to them. Judith looked at the tray and saw several needles and vials--it looked like a pretty standard blood sample kit. She noticed the vials were already printed with labels showing a number as well as a logo, some sort of octopus.
 
The woman looked at Judith first. “Right now, we’re just taking a blood sample. Your arm, please.” Judith didn’t move.
 
The woman met her eyes; despite her smile, there was a flinty hardness to it. She waited a moment, then spoke again, harsh and commanding. “Roberts, her arm.”
 
The third gunman--Roberts, Judith supposed--grabbed her right arm and held it out firmly, hands at wrist and just below her elbow to keep her immobilized. She thought about struggling, but from the corner of her eye she could see how close the other two men were to Seth and Jen. She let the woman slide the needle in--surprisingly gently, given her harshness a moment ago--and waited until the vial was full. She covered it with a cotton swab and even placed a tiny bandaid over the needle mark, just like they were at the clinic.
 
“See? All done,” the woman said cheerfully. She gestured towards Jen next, who held out her arm calmly.
 
The first time Jen objected to something was when the woman pointed at Seth. “No,” Jen said firmly and evenly.
 
Everyone looked at her; clearly, she’d been pegged as least likely to make trouble, and it took them by surprise. Judith wanted to smile--if they’d seen her as a teenager, they’d know that “unlikely to make trouble” not a description that applied to her daughter, not when she thought something wasn’t right or fair.
 
The woman stared for a long moment, then leaned her head to the left slightly and met Jen’s gaze. The battle of wills was all but palpable.
 
The woman spoke, quiet and even. “We

will

be taking the sample. You can make this as traumatic as you want to, but it won’t change the result.”
 
Seth was the one who cut the tension, stepping forward and holding out his arm as he pushed the sleeve up. “Mom, it’s okay. They already took yours--it’ll be fine.”
 
Jen looked at him and shook her head, but he just set his jaw and lifted his chin. Judith’s heart ached for how brave and serious her grandson was, how he stepped up in what he perceived to be protecting his mom, even when she was protecting him.
 
Behind her, Roberts let out a deep breath and shifted slightly, like he was shaking his head. “Jesus,” he muttered. “It’s like a goddamn time machine.”
 
That confirmed what Judith had assumed--that this whole thing was not a run-of-the-mill kidnapping, if any kidnapping could be considered such. That it was about Rogers, because of course it was.
 
They’d pay for it. She wasn’t sure how yet, but they would.
 
She also wasn’t sure how they’d get out of this situation, but she suspected seeming to cooperate was their best choice, at least for now. Only the driver still had his gun out. If it were just her, she might have tried something heroic and stupid--she was more than willing to take advantage of people’s tendency to underestimate an old woman--but everyone in that room except Seth knew that the only thing they had to do was imply a threat to him and she’d fold like a house of cards. So she waited, anxious but still, while the woman took Seth’s blood and gently dabbed at the wound with a cotton swab.
 
“See? Not so bad,” she said to him. She put a bandaid on his arm, not plain like Judith and Jen’s but brightly colored--red, white and blue in a familiar set of rings around a star. The lead kidnapper looked at her flatly.
 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked.
 
She smiled back at him, a bit of a bite in her humor. “It’s funny. You know it is.”
 
The man just shook his head and jutted his chin out towards the driver, who prodded Judith with his gun and said, “This way.”
 
They went through the maze of hallways again before entering a room that looked like some sort of lobby, complete with an uncomfortable-looking couch on one side. A young man was sitting behind a desk with several computer monitors on it. There were several doors off the room.
 
The young man jumped up when they entered, and his expression was a little panicked. “Sir, there’s not--they’re all occupied.”
 
The lead kidnapper looked unimpressed. “They can share with her. Which one’s she in?”
 
The young man did not look much less panicked. “Are you su--I mean, not that I’m questioning you or anything, sir, it’s just that she’s already made two attempts to escape and she’s only been here nine hours.”
 
The man frowned. “Which. Room.”
 
The young man gulped audibly. “Two, sir. I’ll buzz you in.”
 
The second door lead them into a room about ten feet by twenty, divided in half by a set of bars, behind which was a girl standing there looking at them. Not just any girl, either.
 
“Rikki?” Judith blurted out before should could think about it.
 
The girl looked at her sharply, then tipped up one corner of her mouth when she recognized her. “Mrs. Michaels! Didn’t expect you here. Food’s not so good--1 out of 5 stars.”
 
Although she was smiling and joking, there was something incredibly dangerous about the way she was standing. Even Judith could sense it. So, too, could the driver, it seemed. He rested his hand on his now-holstered gun as he spoke with thinly veiled hostility.
 
“Stand five feet back from the door, and don’t move.”
 
Judith suddenly realized where the bruise on his face had come from.
 
Rikki didn’t move, just tilted her head to the side like a bird. “Or what?”
 
You could almost feel the rage flair up as he unholstered the gun, although he kept it pointed at the floor.
 
“Or your cousin’s foot gets a hole.”
 
The silence was deafening and nobody moved. Then Rikki started to laugh. It was an incredibly eerie sound that echoed off the concrete walls.
 
“The only reason Tommy won’t kill you,” said said evenly, “is because Simon is a quicker shot.”
 
The man glared at her but didn’t speak, instead gesturing with the gun at her. She docilely stepped back and put her hands up, not moving or taking her eyes off the man as he stepped over to the number-pad on the wall. He pressed a button and spoke into it--it must also act as an intercom. “Open it.” He then typed in a code quickly. Judith missed the first and last numbers, but saw the middle as 47656. She committed it to memory.
 
There was a loud buzz and a green light flashed, then the door to the cell slid open. The man gestured with his gun at Judith, and she walked in, stopping next to Rikki. Jen, still hugging Seth to  her side, followed behind them. The man pressed the button again and the door slid shut. Only then did he put away his gun.
 
“Best get some sleep,” he said gruffly, speaking for some reason to Jen. “Docs won’t need you for another ten hours, but after that you may be up for a while.” Then he and the other guards left, the door closing loudly behind them.
 
Rikki let out a loud sigh and dropped her hands. “Jesus, I hate that guy.” She looked at Judith. “They’re listening to everything we say, there are cameras. So, just…”
 
Judith and Jen both nodded. Don’t assume they had any sort of privacy or talk about anything they wanted kept secret. Rikki looked at Jen, then Seth. She smiled, this time warm and friendly. “So I’m Rikki. Sorry we didn’t meet before at the fourth of July party.”
 
Jen looked a little confused but held out her hand. “Jen.”
 
Rikki nodded. “I know. Tommy talks about you all the time, kept threatening to ship me out there to straighten me up. You’re the most kickass teacher in Missouri, right?”
 
Jen huffed an odd laugh at that, but the confusion cleared up from her eyes. She had obviously put together some of the pieces--pieces Judith was still missing. Jen squeezed Seth’s shoulders, then tugged him forward.
 
“Seth,” she said calmly, with a note to her voice that only people who know her would recognize as the prank voice, “meet your cousin, Rikki.”
 
Seth looked up at Jen for a long moment, then smiled conspiratorially before turning his gaze to Rikki, who had crouched down in front of him, hand held out. He shook it and his voice was not subtle in its wryness when he spoke. “Hey, cousin Rikki!”
 
Judith did not really understand what was happening, or why they were here, or why Rikki was here, or how they were going to get out. She was abruptly and completely overwhelmed. She sank down on the dingy futon mattress that served as a bed and covered her face with her hands.
 
A moment later, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” Rikki said hesitantly, “don’t worry. I’m working on a plan right now, and even if that doesn’t pan out as soon as Tommy knows we’re gone he’ll bring hell itself down on their heads. Just sit tight--everything’s to be fine.”
 
Two more hands appeared on her back, one small and both warm. “Yeah, Gram,” her grandson said cockily, “listen to my cousin. She’s cool.”
 
Judith huffed once, halfway between a sob and a laugh.
 
Jen spoke, too. “Mom, it’ll be fine. Just you wait.”
 
Judith nodded into her hands and leaned into her daughter’s side for a long moment. Eventually she lifted her head, but otherwise didn’t move. They all sat there quietly for a long time, waiting for what came next.