UNKNOWN GUEST

#24 Boys in Brooklyn

The morning sun was just starting to make its presence known, casting a golden-orange glow across the horizon of the capital city. The air was crisp and calm as I set out for my usual run along the waterfront. As I picked up my pace, I spotted a man helping an older gentleman. The guy in gray shorts gave the old man a thumbs-up and said, "Okay, dude. Carry on."

I jogged closer, my eyes widening in surprise. It was Sam Wilson—Uncle Sam! I couldn't believe my luck. He seemed to notice me as I ran up alongside him, narrowing his eyes in what seemed like mild annoyance. He clearly hoped I'd run ahead, but instead, I kept pace beside him.

He sighed, finally stopping his run and turning to me with a frown. "You got a problem, dude?"

Breathless, I shook my head. "Nope. Is there any?"

He sighed again. "Then why are you following me?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, I just moved here last month. I'm out for my morning run and I see a new face. Figured I'd say hi."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't be your business."

I wasn't ready to let him go just yet. As he started to leave, I called out, "Ain't you Sam Wilson?"

He stopped and looked back at me. I continued, "58th Para-Rescue?"

His expression hardened, and I realized I might have hit a nerve. "Who are you, boy?"

I extended my hand with a friendly grin. "Jason Roberts. SHIELD."

Sam eyed my hand for a moment before shaking it firmly. "How did you know about me?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Not a big deal. Heard about the mission in Afghanistan. Your unit."

His face tightened, and I could see the shift in his demeanor. Oh crap, I shouldn't have mentioned that. His pilot had died in that mission. He sighed, turning away. "Get a life, man."

But I wasn't ready to let it end on a sour note. "See you around, Mr. Wilson!"

He didn't respond and just walked away, leaving me standing there. Well, that was quite the introduction. Not exactly the warmest, but it was a start.

I headed back to my apartment and took a quick, refreshing shower. The steam was still lingering in the bathroom as I walked into the kitchen, where I was hunting for some eggs. Instead of finding breakfast, my gaze landed on the calendar on the counter. It was the 22nd of July.

A jolt of realization hit me. I had to remind Dad about today. He might remember, but I wanted to make sure he didn't miss it. I slipped into my black suit, grabbed my keys, and headed out of the building.

The morning air was crisp as I walked to my father's place. When I arrived, I knocked on the door, the sound echoing lightly in the quiet hallway. After a moment, Dad opened the door, looking a bit puzzled.

"Jason? What are you doing here this early?"

I hesitated for a second, trying to figure out how to phrase it without coming off too blunt. Finally, I said, "Cap, it's the 22nd of July. I thought... you'd be going to Brooklyn."

His eyes softened, and he looked at me with a mix of nostalgia and regret. "How can I? I missed so many years."

I offered him a reassuring smile. "You still have many years to go."

He didn't seem convinced, so I tried a different angle. "Your parents must be waiting for you, Cap."

He gave a resigned nod, still looking unsure. "How did you find out?"

I had to come up with a convincing excuse, and quickly. "SHIELD has a file on you visiting that cemetery a few times before you went into the ice."

Dad sighed, understanding dawning on him. "Give me a minute. Come in."

He stepped aside, letting me in as he went to get ready.

About an hour later, Dad and I landed in New York and caught the Metro to Brooklyn. The journey through the busy city streets was filled with the usual hustle and bustle, but we were headed somewhere specific: the old cemetery on the hill.

As we approached, the cemetery's age was evident, with old, weathered headstones and a general sense of quiet that only comes with age. It wasn't a particularly lively place—more like a sanctuary for those who had lived long and full lives. People in their 60s and 70s wandered among the graves, so seeing two younger men in black suits drew a few curious glances. Dad, despite his real age being over 90, looked like he was in his 30s, and that contrast made us stand out even more.

Navigating through the narrow, uneven paths, we finally reached the far corner of the cemetery where Dad's parents were laid to rest. It was dusty and a bit muddy, with the headstone barely visible under layers of neglect. Dad found a stick and a branch lying around and used them to brush off the grime. We worked together for a bit, with me doing my best to help without getting in his way.

Once the area was somewhat cleaned up, I stepped back to give him some space. Dad took a deep breath, his expression softening as he looked at the gravestones. There was a moment of quiet between us, just the two of us standing there. I could tell he was lost in thought, reminiscing about the past and perhaps sharing a silent conversation with the memories of his parents.

As we made our way out of the cemetery, the sky was a blanket of gray clouds, though it wasn't raining. The air was still and quiet, fitting for the reflective mood. Dad spoke softly, breaking the silence. "My father passed away when I was just 9. Then, after 7 years, my mother also went in her sleep, exactly on the same day as his, July 22nd."

I could tell it was a heavy moment for him. "Thank you for coming with me," he added.

I gave a small nod, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I figured you might need some company."

Dad glanced up at the overcast sky and sighed. "Yeah, I used to come here with my best friend. Bucky."

I smirked, teasing a little. "Cap, are you trying to say I'm like a friend to you?"

He rolled his eyes playfully. "If you're okay with hanging out with a 90-year-old grandpa."

I could only smile. It was clear he was asking me to be more than just an Agent he works with; he wanted a friend he could rely on and trust. It was touching, though I had to hold back tears.

As we walked, an elderly couple passed by. The woman gave us a friendly smile and asked, "Who are you visiting, young men?"

Dad returned the smile. "My parents."

She then turned her attention to me, noticing Dad. "Your son is accompanying you, I see."

Dad's eyes widened in surprise, and before he could correct her, the couple continued on their way. I couldn't help but chuckle at Dad's astonished face. "Don't think people see you as my grandpa."

He shook his head with a grin. "Yeah, I guess not."

We continued down the path, sharing a quiet laugh. It felt like we were forging a new connection, the "Brooklyn boys," navigating this moment together.