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It was Mrs. Walker who answered the door when he knocked. Steve smiled down at her when she cautiously looked out. A look of startled recognition crossed her face and then-
She shut the door in his face.
Steve leaned on his cane. Well. That hadn't been the response he'd been expecting. He'd been reaching up to knock again when the door swung back open. Mrs. Walker's face was a bright, deeply embarrassed red. Her shoulders hunched and the young lady couldn't quite make herself look him in the eyes. She talked to his chin instead.
"Mr. I, I mean Captain. Captain Rogers, I'm so sorry-"
"It's fine," Steve assured her. "Perhaps I should have called first." He gave the poor lady another smile and her lips nervously twitched as she tried her best to return it. "May I come in?" Her eyes darted back in and then back to him.
"Yes. Of course. Please." Steve shuffled up the steps and looked around at the comfortable home he was led into. Inside there was a decent sized couch and TV. Pictures of the Walkers lined the walls - several wedding ones; a few where the couple were clearly on vacations. "I-" Mrs. Walker reached up and ran a hand through her dark hair. "I'm sorry, sir. If I'd known you were coming... Would you like tea? Coffee?"
"Tea, please," he told her. She nodded at that. Her eyes flickered again from him to a set of stairs that led upward.
"Is there anything else I could do for you?" Mrs. Walker asked him.
"I'd like to speak with your husband when we've finished with the tea," Steve told her. She paled. His heart went out to the poor thing. "Merely a conversation, that's all." she didn't look the slightest bit reassured. The young lady swallowed and then stepped forward.
"Please." Her voice was low and beseeching. "John - he's been through so much these past few weeks. We just lost Lemar. Please, just give him a few more days."
"I'd just like to speak with him, ma'am," Steve repeated his intentions. He chuckled then, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm a bit too old now to try anything more than that." Mrs. Walker didn't laugh. She continued to look like death warmed over as she guided him into the kitchen and quietly set about making the tea.
Chapter Text
John sat on their bed, eyes tired as he scrolled through comments. He'd been aware of the #NotMyCap hash tag. Someone had made and starting using it on his very first day of being the Captain. John had been a bit upset to discover it but he'd decided to ignore his naysayers. He'd been confident that he'd be able to win them over with time. Then Lemar had been murdered and he'd-
He'd gotten revenge. At least the start of it. Lemar's other killers were still out there, but he'd need time to heal first. His broken arm wasn't helping. John sneered down at his cast. Wilson and Barnes. They really had almost gotten him. But no. They only cared about the shield. Not him. Not Lemar. All anyone cared about was the god damn shield. He'd disgraced it, people were saying. Tarnished Captain America's legacy and bloodied something he'd never deserved in the first place.
John put the phone down before he accidentally broke it. Closed his eyes as he sat back. Olivia would be back up soon. Thank God he still had her. She'd stood by him, been there for him when no one else had wanted to go near him. If she'd turned on him too... John turned away from the thought. She hadn't. She- The flooring creaked just outside their bedroom and John looked up. Olivia peered in at him. She was tense, worry set deep in her face.
"Liv? What's wrong?"
"It's..." She hesitated. Walked into the room and came up to his side so she could touch his arm. "It's Captain America." John's stomach dropped. Oh. For a moment he didn't move. Captain America. Here. In his house. Any other day John would've been ecstatic, but now-
"Did he say why he's here?" Olivia shook her head. John could guess. The shield. He'd killed someone with it. Publicly. Captain Rogers... He probably agreed with everyone else. Probably didn't think John was worthy of it any more. The only problem was that John didn't have it. Wilson and Barnes did. The man turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Olivia stayed close as he stood. "I'll..." He cleared his throat. Straightened his shoulders. "I'll go see him, then. Where is he?"
"Down in the kitchen." Olivia said. John took another breath and slowly let it out. All right. He could do this. Just go down and tell the Captain that he didn't have the shield any more. It'd be quick. Maybe. If the Captain didn't corner him and tear into everything he'd done under the man's mantle. John shivered. Olivia caught the move and reached down to take his hand. She was warm; soft. John focused on the feeling. He could do this. Together, they headed out to face Steve Rogers.
Chapter Text
The Captain was sipping at something warm when John entered the kitchen. He hesitated before sitting down at the table. Olivia joined him.
"It's- it's... good to see you, sir. Captain." God. John wanted the floor to swallow him up. The Captain smiled. It sharpened the wrinkles around his eyes.
"You can call me Steve," he said. "The both of you can."
"If..." John rubbed at the back of his neck. "If this is about your shield, I- I don't have."
"I know," the older man told him. He knew? Then why was he here? "I heard about what happened on the news." John’s stomach pitched downwards.
"I. Um. I take it that you… Didn’t like what you saw.” God. Was Captain America going to call him a traitor to the shield? He didn’t want Olivia to hear that. She’d already had to put up with so much. “Liv,” he started, his voice low. The Captain held a hand up to stop him.
"We can talk about that later."
"Later?"
“Son,” Captain Rogers sat straighter. “What kind of a man do you really think I am?” What? “Your friend,” his voice went gentle, “what was his name?” John felt a lump settle in his throat. He turned aside to clear his throat. When he turned back those blue eyes were still watching him in expectancy.
“Lemar.” John managed it. “His name is- was Lemar Hoskins.” Olivia squeezed his hand.
“Tell me more about him. The news coverage didn’t say much about the kind of man he was.”
“He’s the best, Captain Rogers,” John immediately replied.
“How’d you meet him?” the Captain asked.
“It’s.” John swallowed. Managed a smile as his wife gave him an amused, sad look. “It’s a bit of a story.” When Captain Rogers nodded for him to continue, John did so. He could still picture that day so clearly. “We were on patrol on the southern side of our base. God, it was hot out…”