Two Months Later

"I don't want to stay here anymore." To actually tell Fury what I'd been thinking ever since I realized Steve was alive and well was an amazing feeling.

"Is that so? And where are you expecting to stay?" He wondered. He sat behind his desk, leaned back in his big black leather chair.

"With Steve." I replied like lightening. Steve had promised the first day he saw me here that he'd get me out. Told me that he'd bring me back to his place and home school me, and help me figure out how we could find and get through to my brother. It was all I could ever ask for.

"Uh huh. So, is that your plan? Move away from here with Steve. And then what?"

"I don't know. Then we'll find my brother."

"Maggie, I appreciate the fact that after 70 years you still want to find your dead brother, but--"

"He's not dead." I cut in. "Bucky isn't dead."

Fury ignored my interruption, choosing to continue as if I'd said nothing. "But, we still don't know what happened to you. You need to remain under our supervision."

"Steve lives like, a block away! You could walk over for dinner and see that I'm going to be doing fine!" I argued.

"Maggie--"

"Fury."

***
If not obvious at first, I was the one to win that particular battle. We were interrupted by my personal favorite agent, Phil Coulson, who made it clear that Fury was needed elsewhere. Fury told me I could have a trial stay, where I got to stay with Steve for a month. I'd be monitored, and I had to come in every other day for testing, but it was better than nothing. Steve picked me up from the faux-hospital room that had come to be my home over the past couple of months. On the way home he explained that Fury had had to leave our conversation early because of something called the Avengers Initiative. It was something that Steve, or rather, Captain America, was part of. A group of heroes fighting to protect and/or avenge the earth. Steve said Fury had been called in by the council to "evaluate" the group, which is why we got to leave when we did instead of having a drawn out conversation on what would be best for me.
We arrived at his apartment a few minutes later. I was extremely excited, probably because it wouldn't feel so... hospital-y. Steve unlocked the door and let me through to see the place he called home.
"Okay, so your room isn't completely done yet, but, I'm working on it. Wanna get some dinner and then check it out, or check it out and then grab some food?" I laughed.
"I wanna see the room!" I exclaimed. Steve grinned.
"Of course you do. Come on." He led me down the hall. "That one's mine." He pointed to the door at the end. Then he gestured to the one on the right. "That one's yours." He walked ahead of me to open the door and let me in. It was amazing to be able to look and see a room that was actually mine. It had its own television in it, which Steve promised wasn't a big deal, and also something called a laptop computer, which I'd only recently learned about. There was a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, a desk. On the walls were posters and photographs of Uncle Sam, Rosie the Riveter, Frank Sinatra, Mickey Mouse, Eleanor Roosevelt, my brother and I with Steve, and other familiar faces from when I was growing up. It looked comfortable and warm and inviting. I grinned, turning to hug Steve's torso.
"Thank you, Steve!" I murmured into his chest.
"So you like it?" He joked.
"It's amazing. Thank you!" I pulled away and grinned at him, looking back to the picture of Bucky, Steve and I. I was just a little girl, eight years old or so, hanging off of my laughing older brother. Steve and Bucky were grinning, obviously laughing. We were in front of Annie's Diner, the place we always went, and in that moment it was like everything would be alright. My child self didn't realize that things would change so drastically in such a short amount of time.

Notes

Sorry this took so long to get out!