CH 35: Captain America
The life of Steve Rogers was a strange one. Then again, he was Captain America, so perhaps that came with the territory. Waking up after spending seventy years frozen in ice and discovering that the world had moved on without him was certainly strange. Learning that the organization he had chosen to trust had been infested by HYDRA, the very enemy he had fought during the war, was stranger still. Yet somehow, even those experiences failed to compare to the realization that, in another timeline, he and Peggy Carter had a daughter, and that daughter was alive in this world.
For the last month Steve had been occupied almost entirely by the HYDRA situation within SHIELD. Thankfully an AI named Cortana had provided enough information to expose Alexander Pierce as one of HYDRA's leaders and pressure numerous governments into removing him from power. SHIELD had survived, which was more than Steve could say for Fury's original contingency plan. In that version of events, they would have abandoned the organization altogether. Things were far from over, of course. They were already preparing operations against HYDRA facilities in Sokovia and elsewhere, but at least now they could see the enemy clearly. Fury had also used the opportunity to separate the Avengers from SHIELD's direct authority, restructuring them into an independent organization that could work alongside SHIELD without being controlled by it. Steve understood the necessity of that decision. If another situation like this ever occurred, the Avengers needed to be able to act independently, even against SHIELD itself if necessary.
As he stepped out of the car alongside Natasha, Steve found himself looking at a large snow-covered mansion situated on the outskirts of New York. Natasha had accompanied him because Fury currently needed every ally he could get, and Lex Everhart was exactly the kind of person SHIELD couldn't afford to ignore. Powerful individuals were one thing. Powerful individuals with a history of helping people were another entirely.
As they entered through the gates, the first thing Steve saw was quite a sight. A very large dog—or at least Steve assumed it was a dog—was chasing after a black-haired girl who floated through the snowy garden while tossing fish into the air. The creature was enormous, large enough that Steve briefly wondered if it belonged in a zoo rather than a household. On the opposite side of the garden another girl hovered lazily above the snow while firing glowing constructs from her eyes, carefully melting patterns into the white surface below and turning them into decorative stars.
Steve stared for a moment.
Natasha seemed considerably less surprised.
Before either could comment, the girl making stars noticed them and immediately flew over, landing lightly in front of the pair.
"You must be Steve and Natasha. Sharon doesn't know you're coming, so wait here a minute and then I'll take you inside."
Before Steve could even respond, she had already darted away.
A few minutes later the front door opened and a young black-haired man stepped outside.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you, sir."
Lex extended his hand with a respectful formality that Steve found somewhat amusing.
"Hello. You must be Lex. I've heard quite a lot about you."
Steve accepted the handshake.
"All good things, I hope."
The smile on Lex's face suggested he already knew the answer.
"Indeed, Mister Everhart," Natasha replied from beside him. "SHIELD has been keeping track of your activities. Your operations in Greece and Japan attracted quite a bit of attention."
Lex blinked.
"Oh. I didn't think you guys would know about Japan."
Steve glanced toward Natasha.
"What happened in Japan?"
"Lex and his team dismantled an organization called the Hand."
Steve nodded.
"A criminal group?"
"A cult."
Steve nodded again.
"Okay."
Natasha's expression remained perfectly serious.
"A cult that had effectively infiltrated and controlled most of Japan."
That finally made Steve stop walking.
"...Most of Japan?"
Lex rubbed the back of his head.
"When somebody else says it out loud, it does sound a little ridiculous."
Natasha didn't look convinced that "a little" was the correct word.
Eventually they entered the mansion itself.
The interior was warm, bright and overflowing with Christmas decorations. Lights hung from railings and walls, ornaments occupied nearly every available surface, and a massive Christmas tree dominated one side of the room. Despite its size, the mansion didn't feel empty. Quite the opposite. It felt lived in.
"Moving on," Lex said as he led them deeper inside, "I hope you already know about Sharon."
Steve nodded.
"She's in the kitchen baking something right now, so I was hoping you could surprise her."
For the first time that day Steve felt genuinely nervous.
"I don't know if that's appropriate."
Lex looked back at him.
Steve hesitated before continuing.
"I'm not her father. The man who raised her, who was there for her entire life... that wasn't me. Maybe to her I'm just somebody who happens to have the same face and name."
Natasha immediately shook her head.
"Come on, Rogers."
He looked toward her.
"You're acting like she hasn't spent months wanting to meet you."
"That doesn't make me her father."
"No," Natasha agreed. "But you're also not some random stranger."
Steve fell silent. Part of him knew Natasha was right. Another part still wasn't entirely convinced.
.
Lex led them toward the kitchen, and as Steve stepped through the doorway he immediately spotted Sharon standing near the counter. She had a pair of headphones over her ears and was quietly singing along to a Christmas song while kneading dough, completely unaware that she had an audience. A light dusting of flour covered her hands and part of her sweater, and for several moments Steve simply stood there watching. The resemblance wasn't really physical, at least not in the obvious ways people tended to focus on. It was the smaller things that caught his attention. The way she concentrated on what she was doing. The slight furrow of her brow. The unconscious habits that appeared whenever she focused on a task. They were tiny details, insignificant on their own, yet somehow familiar enough that Steve found himself staring before he even realized he was doing it.
Lex noticed his expression and quietly reached over to pause the music. Sharon immediately turned around, already halfway through a complaint. “Hey, why did you—” The words died in her throat the moment she saw who was standing there.
For a few seconds neither of them moved.
Steve watched the exact moment recognition hit her. The irritation vanished first, followed by the confusion, leaving behind an expression that seemed caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. Sharon's eyes moved slowly across his face as though she were trying to convince herself that he was actually there. Not a photograph. Not a story. Not a possibility she had spent months thinking about. A real person standing in front of her.
Steve felt oddly nervous under that gaze. He had fought aliens, gods and armies without hesitation, yet somehow this felt far more intimidating. Maybe because there was no training for this. No mission briefing. No shield to hide behind. Just a young woman who, in another life, should have been his daughter.
“Hi...” Steve finally said, breaking the silence.
Sharon opened her mouth to answer, only to find that nothing came out. She had always understood the reality of the situation. This wasn't her father. The man who had raised her, who had been there for birthdays, school events, scraped knees and all the countless moments that made up a childhood, had lived an entirely different life. She knew that. She had accepted it long ago. Yet standing in front of Steve Rogers made that distinction feel far more difficult than it ever had in theory.
Because he wasn't merely similar.
He was Steve Rogers.
The same eyes. The same smile. The same awkward sincerity that somehow survived despite everything life had thrown at him. Even the way he stood felt familiar. Sharon could practically see echoes of the father she remembered reflected in every small movement.
Her vision blurred slightly as tears threatened to form, though somehow a smile arrived before they could fall. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, moving almost cautiously as if she feared the moment might disappear if she moved too quickly.
“Can I hug you?” she asked softly.
Steve's expression softened immediately.
“Of course.”
The answer had barely left his mouth before Sharon closed the remaining distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him first, and a moment later Steve hugged her back. Neither of them said anything. There simply wasn't anything that needed to be said. The kitchen fell quiet around them as they stood there, holding onto a connection that should never have existed and yet somehow felt completely natural.
When Sharon finally stepped back nearly a minute later, her eyes were slightly red but the smile remained. Natasha had been watching the entire exchange from the doorway and looked far too pleased with herself.
“Well,” she remarked, folding her arms, “you two definitely look like a father and daughter.”
Neither Steve nor Sharon argued with her.
Eventually Sharon turned toward Lex. The gratitude in her expression was impossible to miss now, stripped of the surprise and emotion that had overwhelmed her moments earlier.
“Thank you.”
Lex blinked. “For what?”
“For this.” Sharon glanced toward Steve before looking back at him. “This might be one of my favorite Christmas gifts.”
Lex exchanged a brief glance with Natasha and couldn't help smiling. The actual surprise hadn't even happened yet, but looking at Sharon's expression, he found himself wondering whether it might have been smarter to spread things out instead of cramming everything into a single evening. Then again, some gifts were worth waiting for, while others became memorable precisely because they arrived when you least expected them.
The others quickly realized that this was probably a conversation years in the making. Natasha gave Steve a small nod before moving toward the living room, while Lex quietly ushered everyone else away. Even Kara, despite her obvious curiosity, refrained from making any comments. Within moments, the kitchen and adjoining sitting area had been left entirely to the two of them, the sounds of the rest of the house gradually fading into the background as everyone gave them the space they both clearly needed.
Sharon and Steve eventually settled onto a sofa near one of the windows. Outside, snow drifted lazily across the garden while warm light reflected against the glass, creating a comfortable contrast to the winter evening beyond. For a few moments neither of them seemed entirely certain where to begin. There was simply too much history between them and, somehow, none at all.
“So, how was it?” Steve finally asked. “Your life? That world?”
A faint smile appeared on Sharon's face as she considered the question. “Hm... I don't really know where to start. Everything was amazing. Everything was great.” Her gaze dropped briefly toward her hands before old memories began surfacing one after another. “I lived with Mom and Dad. Things were difficult at first. HYDRA wasn't completely defeated and Dad would sometimes disappear for months at a time dealing with one crisis or another, but he always came back. No matter how bad things got, he always came back.”
The smile softened as she continued. “Living with them, I picked up a lot of their habits. Mom hated it whenever Dad left his shield lying around the house. Dad would promise he'd stop doing it and then immediately forget the next day. And with some of the Super Soldier Serum's effects passing down to me, I was already stronger than most people growing up.”
Steve chuckled quietly, the image immediately forming in his mind. “I can imagine.”
“So eventually I became a superhero too.”
A warm smile appeared on Steve's face at that. There wasn't even a trace of surprise in his expression, only the sort of fond amusement that came from hearing something he had already expected. “Of course you did.”
Sharon raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Steve looked at her for a moment before shaking his head. “It means I'm trying very hard to imagine Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers raising a daughter who wouldn't spend her life helping people.” His smile widened slightly as his gaze drifted away for a second, perhaps imagining that impossible life. “And honestly, I can't.”
Sharon laughed softly, though something in her chest tightened at the same time.
There was no teasing in his voice, no joke hidden beneath the words. He said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though becoming a hero had never really been a choice for her at all. Somehow that simple certainty felt more meaningful than any praise he could have given.
“So I never had a chance?”
Steve's laugh joined hers. “Not from the sound of it. If anything, I'm impressed you waited until you were grown up.”
From there the conversation began flowing more naturally. She told him about holidays, family dinners, arguments that had seemed world-ending at the time but became funny years later, and countless small moments that never would have appeared in history books. Steve found himself listening to details of a life he had never lived, yet somehow every story felt precious. These weren't tales about Captain America. They were stories about a father, a husband, and a family.
Eventually Steve leaned back slightly and shook his head. “You know... when I first woke up, I spent a lot of time thinking about what would've happened if I'd made it back that day.”
Sharon remained quiet, allowing him to continue.
“I imagined a lot of possibilities. Most of them probably weren't realistic.” A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at her. “But seeing you... seeing you, I'm happy that somewhere out there, some version of me got to live that life.”
The words carried far more weight than they initially appeared to. Sharon could hear the happiness in them, but she could also hear the loss beneath it. Not bitterness. Not resentment. Just the quiet ache of someone looking at a road they never had the chance to walk.
“Do you regret it?” she asked softly. “Not coming back?”
Steve fell silent for several seconds before answering.
“Of course I do.”
The response came without hesitation.
“I regret a lot of things. But if I had the chance to go back and do it all again, knowing what HYDRA was planning, I'd still make the same choice. Too many people would've suffered if we hadn't stopped them.” His gaze drifted toward the falling snow outside the window. “What's strange is that in your timeline I apparently managed both. I fought HYDRA and still ended up building a life. A family.” He laughed quietly, though there was little amusement in it. “Looking at it now... maybe I should regret it more than I do.”
Sharon didn't interrupt. Steve rarely spoke this openly.
“In the end,” he continued, “the thing I regret most isn't missing out on history. It isn't the years I lost. It's that dance with Peggy.”
The confession was so simple and so honest that Sharon felt her chest tighten. After a moment she lowered her eyes.
“How is she?”
Steve immediately understood who she meant. Sharon had never tried looking into this world's Peggy Carter, and part of him suspected it wasn't because she lacked curiosity. Sometimes not knowing was easier.
“I never looked,” Sharon admitted quietly. “I didn't want to know.”
Steve nodded in understanding.
“She's holding on.” A warm smile appeared on his face, one filled with both sadness and affection. “I visit her every few days. Some days she remembers more than others. Most days she doesn't remember much at all.”
The sadness was there, but it wasn't the whole story.
“But you know what?” he continued. “Meeting her for the first time every time is still... kind of wonderful.”
Sharon smiled at that.
It sounded exactly like something her father would've said.
The conversation continued for a long time after that. Not as Captain America and a hero from another timeline, nor as symbols burdened by history, but simply as two people sharing pieces of a life that somehow connected them both. Steve listened to stories about a daughter he should never have had, while Sharon listened to the man who could have been her father under slightly different circumstances. For the first time in a very long while, Steve wasn't speaking as Captain America, an Avenger, or a soldier carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was simply sitting on a sofa a few days before Christmas, listening to stories about a life he never lived from a daughter he should never have had, and somehow that felt more important than any mission waiting for him tomorrow.