AN: Welcome to the next installment. Sorry for any story followers out there- I haven't updated in a while. I tried my hand at symbolism in this chapter, I can say that this is one of the most elaborate things I have written in a while just in terms of diction and imagery. I hope you like it!

Steve's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he was confused as to where he was, but suddenly he remembered. Whammy's House, he thought. With the strange alphabet soup and the rather soft-spoken boy who reminds me of myself.... He fought to sit up, finding it much easier to manage than before. He pressed his right hand lightly against his bandages, gleeful when he discovered that there was only a dull ache remaining where searing pain had once been. He put his socked feet onto the ground firmly and stood up, holding onto the arm of the couch to steady himself.

The room was smaller than he thought it was lying down. Most of the room was taken up by the bookshelf. Steve walked over to it and examined the books, running his fingers across the spines. He recognized a lot of them, and they were classics such as Of Mice and Men, The Canterbury Tales, The Scarlet Letter, Romeo and Juliet, Fahrenheit 451, and 1984. The child he was saved by couldn't have been much older than ten... yet he read this sort of material?

Then again, Steve was born more than 70 years ago... maybe children were just this smart nowadays. But he doubted it. There was a sort of mature air surrounding Light that he rarely saw in children anywhere. Light was caring... but it also seemed like he was empty.

A light sound broke through the cloud of Steve's thoughts and he turned towards the door to Light's room, which was slightly ajar. He make his way over to the entrance, and identified the noise as piano music. It was soft and entrancing, and Steve appreciated the music for a few moments before opening the door to see who was playing.

He looked out into a dark hallway. The hallway was much colder and not as welcoming as Light's bedroom. It was painted a generic white with black door trims. Doors much like Light's lined the hallway, save for an arch a few meters down his left, leaving an opening into another room. The room that the music was coming from.

Steve made his way down the hallway, his feet making only the slightest of noises. He peered around the wall into the arched room and gasped lightly at the large, ornate library. Endless amounts of books lined the shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling. And to his left was Light, sitting at an old upright piano, playing calmly from a tattered, yellowing music book on the stand in front of him.

Light didn't stop playing, but Steve knew he was aware of his presence by the slight pause in the music, like a record skip. Steve ventured into the room further. It seemed like a marvelous place to read. The room was lit minimally, not by electricity, but by candlelight, which seemed dangerous to Steve, but they were placed in eaves along the wall, well away from the books and paper. The smell of the library was slightly dusty, as if it wasn't used often, but it also smelled faintly of pine and old paper. It made Steve relax.

Steve didn't disturb Light, who looked calm playing the piano, and let the music cloak him as he instead maneuvered through the tall shelves, looking at the books. It seemed as though there were tomes on every subject in the world, and he noticed that the books were in various languages; some were even in Latin. He was surprised at the extensive collection the orphanage was blessed with.

He turned around a bookcase and almost tripped on a pile of books reaching about a meter tall. He looked down at the boy beside the tall pile of books. The boy was wearing glasses that were taped about the middle, and he was so engrossed in the book he was currently reading (it was in Spanish, Steve noted) that he didn't notice Steve's presence until a few moments after he had been standing there.

The green eyes of the bespectacled boy were both confused and surprised. "H-hello," he said nervously, in a quiet voice.

"Hello," Steve said politely, sitting down next to him. "What are you reading?"

"Don Quixote," answered the boy, his eyes brightening with the prospect of discussing books with the man. "It is regarded as one of the best works of literature ever written in the Spanish language."

"I'm guessing you know Spanish?" Steve asked, impressed.

"Yes. I know English, Spanish and German," the boy answered. "I'm learning French."

"That's impressive. How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

Steve smiled appreciatively. "My name is Steve Rogers. What's yours?"

"Je m'appelle Jared," he introduced himself.

"It's nice to meet you, Jared."

"Likewise."

A comfortable silence existed between the two, Jared observing Steve carefully as his fingers stroked the pages of his book.

Steve took the opportunity to look closely at the boy. He was skinnier than a kid his age should be, but his bright green eyes were lively and his dark blond hair was well-kept. Occasionally, a flicker from the candles above would cause his glasses to create shadows on his cheeks. But, as soon as the shadows came, they were gone and replaced with his bright expression.

"Are you new to Whammy's? You seem a little old to be a student here. Or are you a volunteer?"

Steve pondered the question, and the library suddenly seemed more empty. He had only been here a short while, but already the kids were growing on him. Perhaps it was the sentiment that they were more intelligent than he was, and they seemed much more mature than the adults he had met (ie. Tony). He answered after a few moments' pause.

"I don't officially work here but... I could volunteer every once in a while."

Jared's face lit up. "Really? That's great! All the adults here are so stuffy. They lock me out of the library when all I really want to do is read. None of them listen to me when I talk about my books, except you."

Steve gave Jared a smile. "I'm glad you are happy."

Jared smiled back, gave Steve a short hug, and then turned back to Don Quixote, immediately becoming enraptured in the pages.

Steve felt a warm feeling bubble up in his chest as he smiled and stood up slowly, weaving his way through the bookshelves until he ended up back to the open space where the piano was located. Light had stopped playing momentarily, and Steve realized that Light's pause was what was making the library seem more cavernous than before.

Light was staring silently at the music before him, his long fingers ghosting the ivory keys in an imitation of playing. This continued for another few minutes before Light stopped, took a breath, and started. He only made the slightest of mistakes every once in a while, and, despite that, the music was delicate and dark. It surrounded Steve and gave him chills down his spine.

Once the song was finished, Steve stood, as if in suspended animation, oblivious to Light turning towards him and fixing him with a curious, auburn stare.

"Mr. Rogers?" Light asked lightly, causing Steve to jump back into reality. I've been spacing out so much lately... probably just from blood loss.

"I apologize, I was just thinking," Steve said weakly. Light's emotionless face didn't change, but something in his chestnut eyes grew softer.

"You should be resting," he chided gently.

"It's fine," protested Steve. "I heal faster than the average person, so..." he trailed off.

"Why?" Light asked.

Steve hesitated. "...I don't get hurt easily...," he said sheepishly. He didn't know how to explain it.

"That's fine," Light said politely.

"Um, Light?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a phone I can use?" Steve asked. Tony and the others were probably having an aneurysm by now.

"There's one in the hallway, three doors down," Light answered. Steve nodded in thanks and turned to leave the room, before he heard Light's voice add, "Be careful of what you say, Mr. Rogers. The conversation is recorded."

The phone's ring permeated the silence at Stark Tower. Tony immediately jumped up to get it. He was sick with worry. He had already eaten three bags of pretzels and was working on his fourth, for goodness' sake!

"Hello?" he answered as soon as he picked up the receiver.

"Tony?" Steve's voice answered from the other side.

"Steve! Do you realize how worried we are about you? Tasha and Clint left an hour ago to scour the city again, Thor is actually depressed, Bruce is on the verge of hulking out any moment now, and I had to deal with my A.I getting hacked and a rude kid selling pretzels! I'm a wreck!"

The remaining Avengers got up immediately and crowded over by the phone as soon as they heard it was Steve. Tony pressed the speaker-mode button as Steve answered.

"I'm sorry, Tony. Some of the Chitauri got me pretty bad, and I fell into the forest. I couldn't move because of how I landed."

"Are you still there?" asked Bruce.

"No. I was about to be attacked by coyotes, but a boy saved me and fixed me up at the orphanage he lives at."

"Orphanage?!" Tony said, in surprise. Clint and Natasha entered the room, looking completely beat from their search. Once they saw the others huddling around the phone, they joined them. "Are there benches by it?"

"I don't know. I was unconscious when he brought me here."

"Who is 'he'?" asked Natasha.

"Light. He's the boy who saved me. You guys won't believe how smart these children are. Light plays the piano and there's another boy, Jared, who knows three languages and is working on a fourth." Steve's voice sounded excited to share the news.

"Which orphanage is it?"

"Whammy's House," Steve answered.

Tony looked at the others as he responded. "We're coming to get you. See you in a bit." He hung up abruptly and picked up his jacket. "JARVIS, tell me the directions to Whammy's House."

"Yes, sir."