S teve thought he would stop by the VA and follow up on seeing what he could do to help Sam impress his friends. He needed to connect with some regular people. All he ever saw were S.H.I.E.L.D. colleagues and people from his past. Seeing the film of Bucky and Peggy had made him sad. Seeing Peggy in person had made him even sadder. He was feeling adrift, and Sam had reached out. That meant something to Steve, so he went looking for Sam and found him running a support group for vets working through post-traumatic stress.
“The thing is, I think it’s getting worse,” a woman was saying as Steve got to the doorway of the meeting room. He saw Sam standing in front of a group of people in rows of folding chairs. Sam was listening as the woman continued her story. “A cop pulled me over last week. He thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”
Steve leaned against the doorway, not wanting to intrude.
“Some stuff you leave there,” Sam said. “Other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase, or in a little man purse? It’s up to you.”
He wrapped up the meeting, and as the group dispersed, he walked up to Steve. “Look who it is—the Running Man.”
Steve nodded at the now-empty room. “Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense.”
“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret...” Sam trailed off.
“You lose someone?”
Sam nodded. “My wingman, Riley. Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. Until an RPG knocked Riley out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said. It was all you could say.
“After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”
Steve looked around at the meeting room, the files Sam was gathering...all the regular stuff for a regular job. “But you’re happy now, back in the world?”
“The number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, yeah.” Sam grinned. “Are you thinking about getting out?”
“No,” Steve said. Then he corrected himself. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”
“Ultimate Fighting?” They both chuckled. “Just a great idea off the top of my head. Seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”
That was the problem, Steve thought. He didn’t know.