usavatar | I WAS MADE TO HIT IN AMERICAAAA

I WAS MADE TO HIT IN AMERICAAAA

He should know not to go out at night by himself. Not because he's in any danger - Captain America in New York City on a less-than-average day doesn't have much to worry about. But because, almost without exception, he gets lost. Steve tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and squints up at the buildings around him, ignoring the college student who staggers by, stops to stare at him, and bursts out laughing before moving on.

He's used to that, too, by now. Apparently dressing conservatively these days isn't a reflection of care for the resources of the country, or a side-effect of living life as a soldier for two years - it's just "dorky." At least he doesn't feel like someone's taped a sign to his back, not since he asked Darcy - Agent Lewis - why he kept getting that reaction.

Of course the fact that she had to explain what 'Because you're a dork' meant didn't really help his... street cred. He chuckles to himself, only a little ironic, at managing to use both terms in one train of thought.

A few streets later he's getting very confused. Usually he's able to find at least one familiar street or landmark to point him in the general right direction, at least until he finds a cab to get him the rest of the way back to the mansion. He's done this enough in the months he's been here that his assigned SHIELD shadows don't pop a vein unless he's not back by morning - in this case, though, that's probably working against him.

Finally Steve sighs and digs into his pocket to pull out his cellular phone. He looks at it for a moment, smiling to himself and wondering what Howard would make of all this. Tiny phones with tinier batteries and communicators and jets that don't need runways to take off.

Well, for all Steve knows, Howard invented most of it. He still hasn't been able to bring himself to look at history texts to see how his friends lived out their lives. There's something too much like admitting he's never going to see them again in doing that.

He flips the phone open gingerly, poking the tiny buttons with his pinky because he's not sure how else to manage the thing, and dials in what he's fairly sure is Darcy's number. Agent Lewis's number. He could try calling someone else, but she's friendly, in her own way. She doesn't treat him like a loaded gun waiting to be pointed at the next Big Bad Guy.

Steve lifts the phone to his ear with a frown. "Uh. Hello?"

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She goes still for a moment, looking stricken. That... is not any answer she expected, and hearing it hurts - it's so close to her own situation, but so much worse. Even if her world's out of reach, at least she knows Peter and Walter and Astrid and Rachel and Ella are all still out there, living their lives. He would have lost everyone he knew, and by the time he woke up...

They'd be gone. The world would have moved on without him. It wouldn't be his world anymore, even if it was the same universe.

"I'm sorry." It's half a whisper, but heavy with sympathetic pain. I'm sorry doesn't cut it, never would, but it's all she can think of to say.

Me too, he thinks. He says, "Thank you," just as quietly as Olivia.

He doesn't realize he's tightened his grip on the cup until it shatters in his hands, little bits of glass and hot tea pouring over his fingers and spattering his pants and the floor. Steve winces and reaches for a napkin to pat lightly at the stains. "Sorry - I didn't- that's not the first time that's happened, don't worry about it."

Edited 2011-09-19 06:49 (UTC)

Olivia jumps a little, sets her own cup on the table and leans forward in concern. "God, are you okay? What... Did you say you've done this before?" Because that's totally normal.

...she should really stop expecting anything to be normal, the way her day had been going. Or the way the past three years have gone, for that matter.

"Yes," he says, and sighs as he starts picking bits of glass up from the soggy carpet. "When I'm not paying attention most of the time. Oh, um."

Right. There's also... that, which she doesn't know about. "I'm... I was kind of part of a special program, during the War. Most of it's pretty classified."

Edited 2011-09-19 22:15 (UTC)

"Huh." Olivia takes a moment to contemplate that, and then lets out a wry laugh and shakes her head a little. "It sounds like your life's been about as weird as mine... which until now I would've said wasn't possible."

And it's especially strange that of all the people in all the universes, all the people in this city in this universe alone, it's him she appeared in front of, when they have so much in common. That can't be a coincidence...

"Can I help you with that?"

"Considering the fact that I used to be a ninety-pound, five-nothing asthmatic-" He flashes that cockeyed little grin. "Yeah, life's been pretty strange."

He waves her off, going down on one knee to finish picking up the pieces of broken cup. "No ma'am, I've got it- thank you." He inspects a piece of glass with a sigh. "I hope this wasn't special. But I suppose Tony knows better than to give me special, breakable things at this point."

Steve looks up at Olivia from his position on the carpet, studying her carefully. "You said these drug trials were done when you were a child? What happened to the people you crossed over with? You don't have to answer."

This time, Olivia doesn't sit back - she braces her forearms on her thighs, folding her hands in front of her, and stays leaning forward like that so she can speak to him more comfortably with him crouched on the carpet.

"They died." There's no hiding the guilt over that. Saving Peter hadn't been their job, their responsibility, but they did it anyway, because she asked, and because Nick trusted her and the others trusted him. They died. She lived. There's nothing fair about that.

"I guess the crossing took too much out of them. I don't know why it didn't affect me the same way. William Bell - one of the men who did this to us, he said that I'd always been the strongest of the group, and crossing over like that might have been my gift. But... I don't know. Maybe I was just lucky."

"...I'm sorry," he says, and it's as sincere and heavy as her own apology. He gets up, piling the glass on the tray. "I- Well. I lost someone, back in the War, a good... My best friend. I know what it's like. Asking yourself why."

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to lift himself out of the fog of memory and guilt before it can take both of them. "Would you like a tour of the public access areas? I'm afraid I can't take you to the training facilities or anything, but I can at least help you find your way around while you're here."

Grateful for anything else to focus on, Olivia nods and rises to her feet. "If you don't mind playing tour guide, I'd love to have a look around. At least it'll save you from leading me around for the rest of the week while I wait for Dr. Foster."

And it'll give her an idea of where she needs to run, if this all goes bad somehow. There was a time, not that long ago, when that kind of suspicion and paranoia didn't come as second nature to her. Olivia desperately misses it.

He's opening the door to the hall when JARVIS says, "Captain Rogers, Agent Coulson requested I inform you he is on his way. He would like a full debriefing upon arrival."

Steve grimaces. "Thank you, JARVIS."

The captain stands holding the door and doing his best to look reassuring. "Agent Coulson is a good man. He'll probably take a little convincing, but I'll stay with you." There's an implied I won't let him do anything that Steve doesn't feel is strictly necessary, but he knows what shell-shock looks like, and Agent Dunham seems to be functioning on strength of will alone at this point. She doesn't need extra reasons to be twitchy.

Olivia's not entirely reassured - explaining her situation again, to a governmental agency she's not part of, isn't something she's exactly eager to do, but she understands the necessity. Under other circumstances, she'd probably be the one doing the questioning.

She nods tightly, trying to at least look nonchalant. "Thank you. I take it he's Agent Glass' boss?"

"He is." If Steve really thinks about it, he's fairly certain Agent Coulson is second in command only to Colonel Fury. He's certainly never met anyone else who can give Coulson orders, at least. Coulson is just one of those existences no one questions. He's everywhere, doing everything, and trusting most people to help or get out of the way.

Mostly get out of the way.

Steve shuts the door to the sitting room and leans down very slightly to make sure he has Olivia's eyes on his face. "Whatever happened to you before, it's not going to happen here."

Edited 2011-09-20 05:38 (UTC)

She doesn't answer at first, just studies his face with as little expression as she can manage. Finally, she says evenly, "I believe you mean that, Captain. I really do. But I know what good men can do when they think there's no better option, and..."

A nervous smile flickers for just a moment, then fades, but she keeps her eyes locked on his. "I hope you'll understand that it's a little hard for me to trust any of this, even if I do believe you have good intentions."

His expression goes hard, but it's clear the iron in it isn't direct at her - he's thinking back again, his eyes seeing Schmidt above the flaming remains of a factory, the soldiers held prisoner there turned loose on their guards. Steve's voice stays gentle, but there's absolute solidity in his tone. "I do understand. But I promise, as long as you're here, no one will take you anywhere you don't want to go or do anything to you that you aren't willing to do. I won't let them."

Steve blinks, coming back to himself, and gives her a little nod that somehow manages to look like a salute. He picked that one up from Howard. "If you'll follow me, there's a fitness area near the pool and a steam room, if you'd like to relax after you speak with Agent Coulson."

Olivia returns the nod with an almost military stiffness, but there's real gratitude in her expression. She meant it - there's no reason for it, just instinct and the sense of absolute sincerity he exudes, but she believes he means every word. It's just that whatever authority he has here, there's got to be someone else in this place with just as much who might have different ideas about what to do with someone like her.

"Well, I don't know how likely it is that I can relax today, but... lead the way."

He gives her a worried look, trying not to walk too quickly or stay too close. "You should try, regardless. Adrenaline and nerves won't hold you up forever."

Steve knows that as well as any soldier - just like he knows the minute she slows down enough to actually relax she'll probably crash and sleep for who knows how long. She's bound to be better of for it.

Down the guest hall, back through the foyer to the opposite wing - the one he's at least more familiar with. It's all done in marble and dark wood and shades of red and gold. "Most of what you'll need for the day- to-day is on this side of the building."

"I'll be fine." Her tone's a little more clipped than she meant it to be, but she's never been terribly good at accepting concern about her own wellbeing. She will be fine - she's made it this far, and the worst, she hopes, is behind her.

Olivia trails along behind and to one side of him, studying what she can see of the layout with a certain intent focus that suggests she's committing it all to memory - and that she's focusing on that for the moment because it keeps her from worrying about other things. "Am I going to need a map for this?" she asks after a moment, glancing back to Steve with a faint smile.

"You might." He sighs. "You can ask JARVIS for directions- I still have to sometimes. It's more confusing than the citadels. Er- the military defense bunkers, the ones in London."

He shoots a quick look down at her, feeling a little strange about mentioning things like that. The rest of the Avengers, most of SHIELD - they don't think much of it at this point. At public appearances it's pretty much expected. He's gotten used to talking about his past like it's normal, not having to censor himself or worry that he'll flip the switch of someone's sympathy just by referencing what he knows. Talking to Olivia suddenly feels a little like his first months back in the world.

Edited 2011-09-21 00:36 (UTC)

It is strange, hearing him talk about things that long ago like... well. Like he lived through them. But Olivia has a pretty high threshold for strange, and she doesn't comment on it.

"The computer system - JARVIS? It can hear me anywhere in the building?"

"He's an AI," Steve says. "And he can, yes. He tracks all life signs within the mansion." Steve opens a heavy oak door marked 'pool' and stands holding it. "Tony takes security as seriously as -"

Steve stops himself before he says 'everything else' because that would be a very backward way to put it. "Well, he's very serious about it."

"Of course it does," Olivia murmurs, mostly to herself, as she steps through the door to the pool with a little nod of thanks to Steve for holding it. If Massive Dynamic ever built a mansion, she imagines, this would be it - though probably with a lot more random screens and unsettling angles.

Mercifully the pool is not Olympic-sized, so that's one less thing to be embarrassed about. It does, however, have and overhead skylight that can be opened during good weather, which has resulted in several birds roosting in the high corners of the space. He frowns up at them and makes a mental note to ask the cooks to put out seed when it starts to get cold.

"The doors across the pool lead to the locker room, steam room, and general fitness equipment." None of the Avengers really use these areas to train. Their training takes place in what Tony has mockingly started calling 'the danger room', in imitation of a set of plans for a similar space someone tried to pitch him months before. As though he wouldn't insist on building his own, entirely classified, entirely off-limits to anyone but the Avengers, Coulson, and Nick Fury himself.

Olivia tilts her head back to study the skylight - and the birds - for a moment before taking note of the doors at the other side of the pool. "You said this used to be a museum?" she asks as she turns back toward Steve. "'Cause... it really doesn't seem like it."

"Uh." She scratches the back of his neck, grimacing a little. "It was Tony's mother's house before it was a museum, if I'm not mistaken. When it got converted, I don't think the public had access to certain parts of it. At least Tony made it sound like he had to fix a lot up before anyone could live here."

Steve wonders, briefly, what kind of museum it was before Tony reclaimed the place. "...But you're right, it doesn't."

"You seem... I don't know, uncomfortable with it somehow," she comments. The grimace, the way he's almost apologetic talking about it... "How long have you been staying here? Since you woke up?"

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