I Loved You First | Not Easily Conquered ▸ [STUCKY]

Ch. 2

1962

...Another guest of note spotted at the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner was  Colonel Rogers, pictured above, with the lovely Mrs. Rogers on his arm. After President Kennedy greeted the couple, Colonel Rogers spent the majority of the evening speaking with longtime friend Howard Stark...

(Brooks, Kelly. "A Night At The White House." The Washington Post 28 Feb. 1962. Print.)

--

"And do you agree with that, Colonel Rogers?"

Steve shifts in his dress uniform, hugely uncomfortable at these events, as always. When he hears his name he snaps back to attention, searching in his memory for the thread of conversation. "Absolutely," he replies. He abruptly feels again the annoyance he had managed to shake off a second ago. "I'm all for safety in schools, Congressman. But I'm just not entirely sure how hiding under a desk will save my daughter's life in the event of a nuclear attack."

He's met with a kind of gobsmacked silence. Steve looks past Ervin's shoulder in the hopes of catching Peggy's eye, but she's speaking quietly and intently across the crowded ballroom with Howard Stark and John Dulles, the Secretary of State.

"The duck and cover films are about reassurance and safety, Colonel," says Vice President Johnson. His tone is almost stern and certainly impatient. Steve is pretty sure it's actually about politics and placation, and is opening his mouth to say just that when a hand claps down hard on his shoulder.

"Jokester, isn't he?" asks Stark's voice. "That's fatherly instinct for you. His baby girl is his entire world. Give us a minute, boys?"

Stark steers Steve out towards the balcony doors just as Julie London steps up to the microphone to sing. There is a smattering of applause before the piano starts to play. Steve shakes Stark's hand off the moment they're far enough away from the crowd. It's so cold out that the balcony is empty, snow dusting the rails and the White House lawn. He rounds on Stark the second the doors close behind them.

"The hell was that?" Steve demands.

The sleazy smile Stark was wearing inside drops instantly off his face. He tugs irritably at the cuffs of his tuxedo and brushes snow off his arms. "You're a national icon, pal," says Stark,  "And we're at the biggest White House gala of the year. You can't just go around saying shit like that. Look, I'm all for speaking your mind, but save it for the board room, will you? Jesus Christ."

"You know, Stark, it amazes me how little you seem to care about the fact that your own country is facing a threat from a bomb you created," Steve snaps, thoroughly fed up.

"Aw, Rogers," Stark demurs, clutching sarcastically at his heart, "It's sweet how you give me all the credit."

"Is nothing serious to you?" Steve asks, truly wondering. This horrible limbo they're living in reminds Steve of that blurred time in his memory of the weeks before the carnage at Pearl Harbor. Nobody knew what was coming, but there was something terrible in the air all the same.

Stark fishes in his pocket and after a moment lights up a cigarette. Its cherry ember glows brightly in darkness. "Sure I take things seriously. You have any idea how much money I donated tonight? Talk about a dent."

Steve, by some incredible miracle, manages not to sock him in the jaw. "Do you have any idea what will happen if we keep telling our kids that the best way to deal with a nuclear attack is to bury your head in the sand? The potential for damage is enormous, not to mention the collateral that would result-"

"I know it's news to you, but not everything can be solved with a couple of tanks and a gun." Stark is angry now; good, thinks Steve. "Jesus, Cap. Pull your head out of your ass. Times are changing. This is bigger than a war. This is bigger than any war. The technological advancements we've been making in the last two years alone as a result of this conflict will change the world."