A Funny Thing Happened During The Battle of New York

xxi.

~A brief note before we jump into things. Canon is going to start being diverged from, so for the purposes of this story, PEGGY CARTER is not alive, she died old and happy the end. That is all ~

Thank you as always for comments etc they give me life.

Hope ya'll enjoy

Linz~

Something big is about to happen, well is happening. I don't even really know. This day has been.....insane, to put it lightly. Honestly...I'm a bit freaked out. This morning seems so far away, but it's only been hours since Steve and I got on his motorcycle and headed to the Smithsonian.

Stepping into the Captain America exhibit with the subject of said exhibit was a strange experience. Especially since the aforementioned subject was trying desperately not to be recognized.

I'd never understand how putting him in a baseball cap worked so well at blending his larger than life presence into the crowd.

Steve held my hand tightly as we moved through the crowd. My eyes scanning the giant mural on the wall above the entrance. Steve in his uniform saluting proudly with the flag behind him. The artist's rendering was beautiful, but it seemed so cold, so different from the man I had come to know and love.

Here he was a symbol, not a man, and I suddenly realized why he seemed so uncomfortable. As we traveled further into the exhibit, it seemed more and more like a memorial, and a message...of patriotism maybe? Of honor for his acts for the country? Maybe.

But as I looked into the glass cases filled with belongings from his past encased there like a shrine to a living person, I squeezed his hand tightly in return.

Towards the back of the exhibit was a section dedicated to the Howling Commandos. I'd learned about them in school, briefly, as all kids did when the subject of WWII was breached in class. I stared at the clothing, worn by Steve's long gone comrades in arms and felt him tense beside me. I turned to see what had made him suddenly seize up and was met with an eerily familiar face.

I vaguely heard the recorded voice talking above the noise of the crowd.

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."

I stared at the picture displayed above the placard that held the birth and death dates and other important facts about the man. Steve had mentioned him before, a few times, the first at our trip to Coney Island. Something was needling me though—something in my head—something that when I tried to reach for it, it skittered away.

Something about the eyes seemed to draw me in.

"Wren?" Steve asked next to me. "You ok?"

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath and gasped out, "He looks so familiar."

Steve smiled sadly, "That's Buck. I'm sure you've seen a few of the sketches I've done of him."

Something screamed inside of me that that wasn't it, but I shoved that voice away.

"Yea that must be it." I nodded and tugged Steve's hand away from the man who's eyes were haunting me from beyond the grave.

The next area had a screen set up with a video playing of various interviews with what looked like Steve's contemporaries. When a dark haired bombshell of a woman popped up on screen, Steve's body froze jerking me backward. His grip on my hand tightened just short of painfully, and I glanced from him then back to the screen.