“He’s not,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice even. He couldn’t. It threatened to crack at every syllable. “I’m not anything. Never was meant to be anything at all, but I had to be real stupid and try to follow you to war, didn’t I? A lot of real good people make up the symbol of hope. I just wear the clown suit and carry the shield.”

He wasn’t close enough to reach out and take off the mask, but he wanted to do so. Badly. He pressed forward on a throbbing foot, the weird rubber sole of his shoe sticking to the dirty floor.

“Stop sassing me, Buck.”