When Sparks Fly

Baltimore

I meet Sam at the airport just in time, running up to him while he sits on a bench with his hands folded together, "hey, sorry I'm late."

"Yeah, a few more minutes and I was gonna leave without you."

"Does he know we're coming?"

"Absolutely not."

Sam picks up the shield before he and I board the plane. During the long flight I take some time to sleep, something that had always fascinated Steve. If we'd go on missions together during the blip he would always ask how I could sleep on the way to and from a mission. Honestly, to do the things we do I have to seperate myself from it most of the time. Even if we are killing bad people, we are still killing people. When Sam and I land the streets of Baltimore are dark but there are still a few men playing basketball on the street. As we walk past them I recognize one as Isaiah's grandson, Eli, who tries to stop us as we walk by, "whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you're doin? Where are you goin?"

Sam stops, "we're going to see your grandfather."

Eli pauses for a few moments, thinking about whether or not he should tell us where Isaiah is, "alright, he's in the back."

"Thanks."

"I'll be back there."

"Yeah." 

As we walk away the two continue their game, but as we approach the Bradley house Sam's confident strides becomes timid and small. When we stop in front of the house he takes a deep breath and sighs. "Hey," I place a hand on his shoulder, to which he responds by looking over to me, "you're making the right decision."

"I hope so."

I start to walk up the stairs to the house, "come on, before you lose your nerve."

Sam and I walk around the house, seeing that there lights on in the back. When we come into the light Isaiah is watering some plants, looking up to us, "is that what I think it is?" Sam walks over to Isaiah but as he starts to unzip the shield's cover Isaiah protests, "mmm-mmm. Leave it covered. Them Stars and Stripes don't mean nothin' good to me." Isaiah just goes back to watering his plants.

Sam puts the shield back at his side, but as he does I step up behind him and take it, leaning it against the fence, "we need to understand," Sam turns from me and the shield to Isaiah.

Isaiah puts down the hose he is using to water the plants, "you understand." He then bends over and picks up a bag of soil, something that should be hard for a man his age. "Every black man does, most women too. Whether you two wanna deny it or not..."

"Don't do that bitter old man thing with us."

"If you ain't bitter, you're blind." Isaiah points to me, "she's the only one of us who can see and doesn't have to be bitter."

"Look," I shake my head, "maybe this is because I'm a woman and I'm white, but I don't get it and I know Sam doesn't either." Isaiah stands and looks over to me, "what went wrong?"

Isaiah looks up to me, "I used to be like you, both of you, until I opened my eyes, until I saw men in the Red Tails, the famous 332, fight for this country, only to come home to find crosses burned on their lawn."

"I'm from the south," Sam shrugs, "I get that."

"But you were a Super Soldier like Steve," I shake my head, "you could've been the next..."

"The next? What?" Isaiah narrows his eyes at me, but not in a way that is demeaning but rather impatient. "Huh? Blonde hair, blue eyes, Stars and Stripes? The entire world's been chasing that great white hope since he first got dosed with that serum."

"Steve did not put you in jail," Sam shakes his head.

I sigh softly and hang my head, understanding  now what went wrong, "no, the idea of him did."

"What?"

Isaiah nods and motions for us to follow him, "come inside, I want to show the two of you something." Isaiah leads us inside and, of course, I grab the shield before we go. We walk into the living room where Sam and I sit on the couch while Isaiah grabs something off of a shelf, putting a chair across the coffee table from us.

As he sits Isaiah hands me two photos of a woman, they are old and probably taken in the 60s or 70s, "she's beautiful."

"Yeah," Isaiah nods, "she died while I was in jail. They, uh, never let a single one of her letters get to me." Isaiah puts a hand on the box he hand gotten and opened, "they locked them in this box."

"They told her you were died."

"And after a while, she was gone, and, uh..." Isaiah pauses holding back tears, eventually he manages a deep inhale, "sorry."

I shake my head and lean across the table, placing a hand on Isaiah's, "you have nothing apologize for."

"You wanted to know what went wrong?" Sam and I just nod to answer Isaiah's question, "a handful of us for shot it with different versions of that serum, but they don't tell us what it is. They tell us it's tetanus. They sent us on missions, even thought the others weren't stable. Some of started dying off. Then a couple of the boys get captured on a mission. I heard the brass talkin' about blowing the POW camp to hell to hide the evidence. But those were my men. My brothers. Not evidence. So I bust out of the facility one night and I brought them boys back. Not that it made a damn bit of difference. It wasn't long before it was only me left. And what did I get for saving their lives?" Isaiah lifts his shirt and shows us a large scar on the right side of his torso.

"They locked you up under the pretence of treason?"

"They never told me, but for the next 30 years, they experimented on me, trying to figure out why the serum worked." Isaiah shakes his head, "there was a nurse. She took pity on me. Made up some fake reports, something. She had me declared dead. That's who gave me this." Isaiah picks up the letters and hands them to me. The bundle in heavy and thick, there are at least twenty small letters wrapped up. "My God!" Isaiah takes a trembling breath, "I loved her so much."

"Mr. Bradley, um..." Sam shakes his head. "We gotta do something. We gotta tell somebody."

"No, leave me dead. My name is buried."

"But the world's different now."

"No, it's not," I shake my head, "otherwise they never would have given John that shield."

"We know people," Sam looks over to me.

Isaiah scoffs, "man, that's why you're here? You think things are different? You think times are different? You should listen to her, they ain't. You think I wouldn't be dead in a day if you brought me out. You wanna believe jail was my fault because you for that white man's shield. They were worried my story might get out. So, they erased me. My history. But they've been doing that for 500 years. Pledge allegiance to that, my brother. They will never let a black man or a woman be Captain America. And even if they did, no one with self-respect would ever wanna be."

Sam grabs the shield before we leave Isaiah alone. When we get onto the street he stops me, "you know people who can get Sharon pardoned, you must know someone who can help him."

"Sam, I think we should just let him live his life," I shake my head.

"What do you mean?"

"He and who knows how any others were used like lab rats and then when he tried to save his men, his friends, his brothers he was put in jail and experimented on some more."

"Hey," Sam starts to get a little heated, "that experimentation is why you're here."

I almost yell back at Sam, "and if I know that was the reason I wouldn't have taken the serum." I look around the quiet street to make sure we haven't woken anyone and that no one felt the need to call the cops again. "Isaiah has been through enough. But I may know a way to get his story out without anyone finding out he's alive."