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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?"
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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"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."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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She nods tightly, trying to at least look nonchalant. "Thank you. I take it he's Agent Glass' boss?"
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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."
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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."
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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."
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"Well, I don't know how likely it is that I can relax today, but... lead the way."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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"The computer system - JARVIS? It can hear me anywhere in the building?"
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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."
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"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.
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Steve wonders, briefly, what kind of museum it was before Tony reclaimed the place. "...But you're right, it doesn't."
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He prefers not being watched around the clock, or having to attend the mandatory counseling sessions. "Well, it seemed like a good idea. I just..."
Steve clasps his hands behind him and shifts automatically to parade rest, trying to put his finger on what makes him so uncomfortable about the place. "It's. More than I've ever had. More than anyone I know has ever had, or wanted. I just feel like... certain aspects of this place... Not that I'm ungrateful, but I think certain expenses could be put to better use."
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"I think I understand. Not that this place isn't incredible, but it's..." A little much. And empty - as if a place this big could ever be anything but. "I could imagine living here either."