a promise.

The Avengers Initiative was founded on the idea that a group of extraordinary people could unite to combat the foes that no individual could face alone. There was a need for them, when they first came together that day in New York. And there is a need for them now, here in Darrow. Perhaps not immediately, not today, but eventually that time will come. The events that took place here a couple of weeks ago impressed that need upon Steve.

He doesn't know what will happen next. But he's lived in Darrow for long enough to know that there will be something. There always is. The best that they can do is be prepared. And for that to happen, they need to get organized. He doesn't call them together right away, however. He figures they could all use time to themselves. He needs it, certainly, to get his bearings back after losing his abilities. He imagines that Banner will need time to readjust as well. And although neither would ever admit to it, he suspects that Stark and Romanoff could use the extra time to settle in.

After enough time has passed, he reaches out. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE, reads the text message, because he couldn't resist. Below the call to action are instructions to meet at his place.

Eventually, there are three Avengers trying to make themselves comfortable in his living room. He jumps right in, no point in keeping them waiting. "I called you all here today because it's become clear to me that there is a need here in Darrow for the Avengers. By now we've all seen for ourselves the sorts of strange things that occur in this city. I want us to come together, to get organized, and to be prepared the next time that something happens."

draw it, scratch it, say it.

He doesn't get a lot of time to himself anymore. That doesn't bother Steve at all, not when he's had so much to be happy about. But sometimes, he doesn't know how he manages it, dividing his time between the pursuit for Bucky, his investigations into HYDRA, his efforts to bring together the Avengers, his job, his friends, and Lucy. He thinks back on the days when his life here was more or less quiet, often dull. It used to be that he had to work at keeping busy. That's not the case anymore. He prefers the life that he has now. It may be hectic, but it's also full. Still, when the opportunity for a small stretch of quiet presents itself, he seizes it.

Sunday, early afternoon, following a long jog and a shower, he heads out to the boardwalk alone. He brings with him his now neglected sketchbook. He isn't taking summer art classes, but he thinks he might return in the fall, and he doesn't want to be completely rusty. First, he walks, taking in all that there is to see, waiting for inspiration to strike. But instead of inspiration, what grabs him is the sight of young man sitting alone on a bench, hunched over an open book, scribbling away. At first, Steve thinks that he might be writing, but as he nears, he begins to make out the larger shapes of a drawing.

"It looks like we had the same idea," he says as he comes to stand at the end of the bench. He taps the cover of his sketchbooks. "Mind if I sit?"