8. Sins Of The Father 7

TO: capt.rogers@sheild.org, capsicle@stark.com
FROM: b.fulton@rogershouse.ny.gov
SUBJECT: Invitation for 50th Year Anniversary

Dear Captain Rogers,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brenda Fulton, and I am the director of the Rogers’ House Museum. I understand that you are a busy man and get many such requests, but I was hoping that you might make some time for us in your schedule. We are celebrating the founding of the museum and would really love it if you could be there for the celebrations, which are happening on October 19 this year.

I know you have been to the Rogers Memorial Wing at the American History Museum at the Smithsonian, as well as the Rogers Memorial Theater at the WWII Museum in New Orleans, but I admit disappointment that you have not managed to make it by. I’m wondering if perhaps no one has let you know we exist?

The Rogers House Museum was founded in 1962 by Howard Stark, who bought your Brooklyn flat just after your disappearance in 1944. Well, actually, he didn’t buy the flat, he bought the whole building. I’m sure you are very familiar with how the Starks operate.

Since then we have maintained your flat in as pristine condition as possible, recreating the aspects of it that had suffered neglect while the building sat vacant during Stark Senior’s renown search for you. The rest of the house has been turned into a hands-on interpretive historical exhibit about Brooklyn during the Depression and War Years; we get roughly 20,000 students through here every year. It’s very popular, despite our low profile.

Even if you are unable to participate in our 50th Anniversary celebrations (flier attached as PDF), please feel free to stop by anytime to visit. If I am not available, any of our volunteer docents would be thrilled to show you around (no really, they would be *thrilled*). Of course, I too would enjoy meeting the legend whose history we guard and share every day, so I hope to meet you soon.

Sincerely,
Brenda Fulton, MLS, CA
Director, The Rogers House Museum
Brooklyn, NY

Everyone stopped when Steve threw the flier on the table. Group dinner had more or less become habit a few nights every week, and everyone was sitting around eating—-except Pepper, who was in Japan; and Tony, who was still filling his plate in the kitchen (because after several weeks he finally figured out no one was going to do it for him).

Steve folded his arms and stared at them.

Bruce picked up the paper. “Oh. Well, sure, we can go. That’s what you’re asking? For all of us to go? Because it’s been a while since I went there, but for the 50th Anniversary party, I could go.”

“This some kind of group date?” Clint grabbed for the paper, read it, and sighed. “Man, that does not sound fun. It’s not like the place changes.” He passed it over to Natasha, who wrinkled her nose before passing it to Coulson, who barely glanced at it.

“Thank you, Captain, but I already bought my ticket for the event several months ago. Looking forward to it, especially the presentation by the great Captain America scholar Professor Stan Lee…” Coulson trailed off, and everyone went on alert.

Probably because Steve could feel his anger building. He knew it was obvious, his pale skin never doing much to hide his temper. “My apartment? Everyone here has been through my apartment?”

Stark finally walked in with his plate full of food. “Have we? I mean I built this place, of course I’ve been through it.”

Clint reached over, snagged the paper and handed it to Stark, who read it, rolled his eyes and sighed. “God, I forgot about that place. Yes, sure, we can throw some money at it, really give the anniversary party some sparkle. Red, white and blue fireworks. I’ll have Pepper fix it all up. Happy now? Dinner?” Tony pointed at his plate.

Steve picked up the paper. “They turned my home into a museum and not a damn one of you bothered to tell me.” He crumpled up the flier and tossed it onto the middle of the table before turning and walking out.

---

Steve opened the door to Coulson, which was not much of a surprise. When it came to Captain America, most of the Avengers tended to let Agent Coulson do the heavy lifting outside of an actual mission or movie night.

Phil held up the crumpled flier. “Can we talk?”

Steve waved him in. They sat down in the living room, Steve on the couch, Phil in one of the chairs.

“First, I owe you an apology. I assumed that during your briefings to catch you up on 20th Century history, you were informed about the Rogers’ House. I further assumed that your lack of interest in visiting it was due to not wanting to see it. These were all mistakes on my part.” He gently placed the crumpled flier on the coffee table and smoothed it out flat.

Steve leaned back, crossing his arms, not intending to make it easy for Phil. “You’ve been there?”

Phil blushed in the way he had whenever his Captain America fascination was brought up. “Several times. It is a…a mecca for Cap fans.” He looked purposefully anywhere but at Steve.

“It was my home.” Steve looked at the flier, which was decorated with a nice ink sketch of the brownstone.

“It hasn’t changed, much. I’m sure you will see things out of place, but it is pretty close to how it was found when the building was re-opened in 1960, right before Howard Stark established it as a museum and donated it to the State of New York. Mostly they just dusted it.”

“The rest of the building is proper museum.” Steve sighed, because he wasn’t even sure what his point was anymore.

“An award winning historical museum, yes. Countless school children go through it and learn a lot about American history under the guise of learning more about you. I have been very impressed every time I went there.”

They sat in silence for a long time, Phil allowing Steve to process the whole thing. Finally Steve uncrossed his arms and rubbed his face. “I want to visit it.”

Phil picked up the flier. “Consider it done. I’ll arrange it with Director Fulton and let you know when.”

Steve nodded as Phil let himself out. At the last second, Phil turned around. “Steve?”

Steve looked over at him.

“I know it is disconcerting to think of thousands of strangers staring at your former home, but someday I will find a way to make you understand just how important your life, your leadership, has been to so many of us. You were and are a role model and if we can instill just a fraction of your good qualities into children’s lives by letting them see where you slept in 1939, then I think it is a price well paid.” He turned and left.

Steve sat on the couch for most of the night, watching the lights of the city flicker far below him, wondering what people would think of their hero if they knew half of the truth about his life before the serum.