Author's Note: To everyone who's read my previous story We Can Be Found, this is the collection of one-shots that I promised. Timeline includes any time during and after We Can Be Found (after The Avengers) up to during Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

To anyone who hasn't read We Can Be Found, I would encourage you to go do so. The basic background for this universe is that all the Avengers live in Avengers Tower and Steve Rogers has adopted a seven-year-old girl named Christy.

Enjoy this first one-shot, more should be posted semi-soon. I plan to start my sequel to We Can Be Found soon, so this will probably be on a back burner unless an idea strikes or is suggested. Feel free to suggest ideas. Please!

The title for this chapter comes from the song "The War Was in Color," by Carbon Leaf. It takes place somewhere around chapter 12 in We Can Be Found.

Lookin' At Life Through My Own Eyes

Chapter One: The War Was in Color

It was a normal Saturday morning and Steve and Christy were watching TV. The History Channel, to be exact. It was a documentary of World War Two, in black and white. Christy rubbed at her eyes.

Steve noticed. Concerned, he asked. "Are your eyes okay, baby?"

Christy nodded. "Yeah, they're okay; it's just hard to focus when the screen's in black and white. It makes everything look faded."

"Faded…" Steve whispered. So it affected Christy, too, though not for the same reason it affected him. All the documentaries of the War years, his time, were dull and faded; black and white and gray. "World War Two" was synonymous with faded photos and blurry, popping film.

But he remembered a world of vivid color; of blues and greens and reds and purples—all the colors he still saw today! It wasn't like color was a recent invention, after all.

It wasn't fair that all his daughter—all anyone—could see of his time was faded, washed-out images that made everything seem so far away.

He could still see Peggy's fire-red lipstick and brown curls; Bucky's ocean eyes and smiling face. True, everyone's uniforms had been olive drab, but the trees were the same bright green as today.

Blood had been red. And the snow had been blindingly white.

It was real. It happened. It wasn't a movie or a book or a fairy tale.

And it was less than a year ago…

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. He switched off the TV and walked into his room; crashing headlong onto his bed.

Christy sat on the couch, stunned—though only for a moment. This wasn't exactly unusual. Ever since their talk, her first nightmare in the Tower, Steve had kept his promise. She had seen him cry, and she had seen him not cry, but simply sit with a dead look in his eyes (that was scarier).

But usually, there was always Aunt Tasha or Uncle Clint or someone grown-up to talk her dad out of his sadness. Now, there was just her.

She waited. Uncle Clint said waiting was important, because it gave people a chance to calm down. Then, she walked to her dad's room and knocked on the door.

Steve cringed when he heard the knock. Christy; he'd completely forgotten about Christy. But he didn't want his daughter seeing him like this, so he cried out, "Christy, don't come in right now…I need…I need…"

He couldn't even finish the sentence. His voice broke. Christy, of course, pushed open the door.

She took one look at him, and went for the Kleenex box in the room's connected bathroom.

"Don't cry; it'll be okay." she said quietly.

Steve sighed. "I don't know about that." Christy sat down next to him and looked up with earnest blue eyes.

"It gets better! It starts to not…not hurt so bad." she whispered. "And then you start doing stuff and laughing and it doesn't hurt…" her face crumpled up. Steve instantly pulled her into a hug.

"Aww, baby." he said thickly. "We're nothin' but a couple 'a broken messes, ain't we?"

"I don't mind bein' a broken mess, as long as I'm your broken mess!" Christy said firmly.

They stayed that way for a long time, Steve gently rocking his daughter back and forth. Finally, she whispered:

"So why were you crying?"

Steve started to speak, but then remembered the advice Coulson had given him—to not let Christy get away with ignoring her feelings. "You first."

Christy sighed impatiently. "I miss mommy. But what about you?"

"The war was in color." Steve said. Christy looked up, confused. "Leaves were green and the sky was blue and Peggy's lipstick was red and so was the blood…" he trailed off. Christy frowned.

"Go on, I know what war means. People die."

Steve snorted. So much for Natasha's and his unspoken plan to keep Christy semi-innocent. "And so was the blood that fell from the soldiers who died." he whispered. "And so was Red Skull." he added, with a bit of venom.

They were silent. Then, Christy asked. "What color were Bucky's eyes?"

Steve felt his heart clench. He bowed his head.

"They were blue and green…like the ocean on a good day." he sighed. "You don't need to hear this, baby."

"But I want to!" Christy was looking stubborn now. "If you tell me, then I can see in color, too!" She gently picked up the framed picture of Peggy on his nightstand.

"What color was her dress in this picture?" she asked.

Steve glanced at the image. "It was navy blue. Her lipstick was red like fire." he grinned. "It suited her. Her eyes were hazel and her hair was just a couple shades darker…"

"I can see it!" Christy sounded as happy as Christmas morning. "I can see it in color!"

They looked through more pictures and as Steve told the stories and added color to the dull "canvases" of the black-and-white shots, the ache in his chest began to grow less and less.

"Thanks, baby." he said softly, as Christy ran her finger over an image of him and Bucky.

"No problem." she whispered back. "You look so serious in this picture, and Bucky looks like he's tryin' to figure somethin' out. I wish I could have met him."

Steve smiled sadly, trying to push back the pain that flared up at Christy's words. "He would've loved you. Would've spoiled you rotten. And you would've loved him."

Christy nodded, but she could sense her dad's shift in mood, so she changed the subject. "So...what was happening in this picture?"

Steve stared at the image, trying to call back the details.

"Well, I think we were somewhere in Germany, and…"

He could feel Christy lean into his side. And little by little, the hurt began to die.

When Clint sent him a link to a show entitled World War II in Color, Steve figured he knew who to thank. Christy helped him look up episodes online.

They watched the first episode together, curled up on the couch.

The footage was still a little faded. But that was alright.

Because at last, people could know what he already knew and see what he already saw in his memories.

Because the war was in color.

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