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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Olivia blinks at the jacket for a moment, a little startled by the immediate offer, and then smiles a little awkwardly and takes it with a nod of thanks.

"I... appreciate the offer, but I don't know how much that will help," she says slowly as she pulls the jacket on. She doesn't know what universe she's in now. She doesn't know if she's going to flicker back in a few seconds, or a minute... though this feels stable, solid, in a way her other jumps didn't. She's still half-tensed, waiting for the other universe to come crashing back in around her, but there's no sign of it so far. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Oh- of course." He holds it out, starts to explain how it works, and then cuts himself off. She knows what it is, which is more than he could say for himself the first time he saw a cellular phone. She probably doesn't need to know how to use it.

"Do you mind my asking what's wrong? I might be able to help." Him, or Thor, or Tony, or Bruce or Jane or any number of people at SHIELD. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers."

Edited 2011-09-18 01:15 (UTC)

She starts to dial Peter's number the instant the phone's in her hand, her heart jumping a little despite herself. She knows he probably won't answer, but that doesn't stop her from hoping.

As the phone starts to ring, she holds it to her ear and glances back at Steve, hesitating for a second before he answers. Giving him her name if she's still in the wrong universe could be dangerous. Then again, standing out on the street, dressed like she is, when the police and Fringe Division and the army probably all know her face is dangerous enough as it is, if she's not home. Introducing herself isn't going to hurt at this point.

"Olivia Dunham. I just was trying to get home, but it's... complicated."

She was about to say something more, but then the phone clicks as someone picks up, and all her attention is fixed on that. "Hello?" It's a man's voice. Deep. Unfamiliar. Not Peter. Olivia hangs up without answering, and offers the phone back to Steve with a pained smile.

"Thanks. Um... this may seem strange, and maybe insane, but please, just... On September 11th, which buildings were attacked?" Yeah. She definitely sounds crazy. But she already looks - again - like she just escaped from a mental institution, and he still seems willing to help her. One question probably won't change that.

He can accept that explanation. He can even accept the question without too much hesitation - its strangeness for him comes from the rise and fall of buildings he's never seen, ones that mean so much to his country. "The World Trade Center. Would you like to get off the street?"

Tentatively, he takes a step closer as he takes the phone back, holding up his hands again. "I promise, wherever you're from, whatever happened, I don't want to make it worse."

Edited 2011-09-18 01:58 (UTC)

That answer makes her falter for a second, and wonder if maybe she dialed the wrong number. As if she's ever wrong when it comes to numbers, but if this isn't the other universe, if the World Trade Center isn't still standing... why doesn't Peter's number belong to Peter?

She swallows hard, folding her arms around herself and hunching her shoulders a little, and gives Steve one more long, measuring look before answering with a little nod. "Yes. Please. I just need a little time to figure out what happened. ...and maybe a change of clothes, if you can manage it."

He nods, very slowly and very gently moving to put an arm around her shoulder, prepared to move away if she shows the slightest sign of discomfort. "That's no problem. Excuse me one second."

He dials up his handler again, the gentleness suddenly snapping to commanding formality. "Yes, I'm fine. I need you to get me directions from my current location to the mansion- no, to the mansion. Actually, send a car, please. Thank you."

As soon as that's done, he stuffs the cellular phone into his pocket and looks down at Olivia. "It'll probably be about five minutes. Are you cold? Should we go inside?"

Edited 2011-09-18 02:59 (UTC)

Olivia's too bemused at the arm around her shoulders to tense or pull away. As far as she can tell, he really is genuinely interested in helping her, with no other obvious motives. On the one hand, that alone is unsettling. Then again, it's also kind of a relief, after all she had to go through to get Henry and Broyles - hell, even Peter, back at the beginning - to help her.

That change in tone does make her tense a little, involuntarily. He's definitely military. Not such a concern if she's in her own universe, a big problem if they're in the alternate universe, and if they're somewhere else... she doesn't know. The best she can do right now is be ready to run if whoever shows up doesn't look friendly, or if anything seems off.

Who is she kidding? Everything about her situation is "off", and it has been for a long time.

She glances up at Steve again, and shakes her head with a tight smile. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." She pauses, and then asks, "You mentioned a mansion. Where is it, exactly?"

"Uh. Eight-ninety, Fifth Avenue. You're in New York City." He guides her gently over to a bench and sits himself. The worry hasn't left his face. "It's where I live - me and my um..."

Steve frowns at the sidewalk, trying to figure out what to call the Avengers. "My teammates."

He focuses back on her, acutely aware of their surroundings - and how tired and drawn Olivia looks. "Ma'am. What happened? I hope you don't mind my saying so, but that..." He nods toward the spot she appeared. "That doesn't happen every day."

Another frown. "...To other people."

"Your teammates," she repeats a little dubiously - but she doesn't protest being led to the bench, and sits down beside him with a weary sigh.

She lets out a soft laugh at his question, and glances down at her hands for a second before it occurs to her that she should be watching the street instead, and her head jerks back up. "It doesn't happen to me every day either. Just... Things have been a little strange for me lately. Stranger than usual." She glances over to meet Steve's eyes for a second. "Have you ever heard of Fringe Division?"

He shakes his head. "No ma'am. Miss Dunham."

Considering his clearance level, if this Fringe Division was US government, he'd know about it. So they have to be foreign or illicit - either way, potential bad news. A black SUV squeals around the corner and he's up, hand on her shoulder, and himself squarely between Olivia and the vehicle in a trice. He relaxes a moment later as it rolls to a stop and his handler tumbles out, looking like she woke up from a nap when she got his call. He grins.

"It's all right." He looks down at Olivia. "It's okay. She's with me. She's here to pick us up. Agent Glass, Olivia. Olivia, this is Agent Glass. She's my primary contact with... Well, it doesn't matter."

Steve offers Olivia his hand. "You can tell me what happened after we get you safe and cleaned up."

Olivia lurches to her feet too, the instant the car comes into view. Steve's hand on her shoulder steadies her a little - as does the fact that he places himself between her and the car, allowing her to be sure of exactly what he's doing and keep an eye on the car. She's still calculating, in the back of her head, her chances of actually getting away if she turns and runs now, if she'll have better luck going along with them and trying to get a weapon later, if Steve's with them or just really unlucky to get pulled into this with her...

She doesn't exactly relax when he confirms this is the car he called. Her eyes flicker to Steve's outstretched hand, and then back up to his face. "No offense, Mr. Rogers, but it matters to me. Who are you?" She glances to Agent Glass as she does, including her and presumably the rest of whatever organization they're with in the question.

"Um. Captain America." He can't blame her for being wary, particularly when it sounds like she just got away from the black-SUV types. "Agent Glass works for SHIELD, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We aren't this Fringe group - we protect people."

Steve stays with his hand out, solid and patient. "I promise you. I won't let anything happen to you. Please, let me help."

Olivia stares blankly at him for a long minute, trying to decide if he's joking - but something in his eyes reminds her of Peter, or Charlie, steady and honest and absolutely trustworthy.

You have to trust someone here, she thinks.

And then, a moment later, He just said he was Captain America.

That's when she starts laughing, soft and high and with an edge of hysteria to it that suggests she'd be crying if she weren't fighting so hard to hold it together. She presses her hands to her face and takes a few deep breaths, regaining composure a little bit at a time.

"Sorry. God, I'm sorry. I'm fine, I swear..." Olivia closes her eyes for a second, takes one more slow, steadying breath, and lowers her hands.

After another pause, she takes Steve's outstretched hand, since it seems like he's just going to keep standing there offering it until she does. "Okay. We can go."

He holds on to her and puts his other arm back around her shoulders, giving the SHIELD agent a little nod to say that everything's fine. He's still worrying- he can't help it. Olivia seems to be in pretty bad shape. Once they're safely installed in the back seat and rolling toward the mansion, he relaxes enough to look her over.

"If you need medical attention, we can take care of that, too," he says gently.

Agent Glass keeps trying to steal glances at the back seats during traffic lights and crowded moments, but before long they're rolling up in front of the city block designated the Avengers Mansion and the press is snapping photos of the vehicle and trying to see who's at the gate.

JARVIS's voice comes over the little thing with the star on it - OnStar, Steve remembers.

"Please identify yourselves."

Steve clears his throat. "Steve Rogers and two guests."

"Voiceprint accepted. Welcome back to the neighborhood, Mr. Rogers. How long will your guests be with us?"

"Thank you." He's as oblivious to that reference as he is to most. "Agent Glass is just dropping us off. Olivia Dunham will be staying... Um, I'm not sure how long."

"Olivia Dunham, please identify yourself for voiceprint recording."

Olivia shakes her head a little at the offer of medical attention, and manages a tight, slightly strained smile. "That won't be necessary, but thank you. Thank you for helping at all." And she didn't even have to point a gun at him or guilt trip him into it. Imagine that.

She pretends not to notice Agent Glass glancing back at the two of them, focusing instead on the city passing by outside. There's no sign of any of the quarantine zones she remembers along their way, no zeppelins in the sky overhead... It looks just like her New York should. That almost makes it worse. She was so close to finding her way home, so why didn't she? What did she do wrong?

The voice from the OnStar snaps her out of her thoughts, and she glances toward it, and clears her throat at the request to identify herself. "Agent Olivia Dunham." The title comes with her name out of simple habit. She winces and bites her lip when she realizes it, but it's a little late to take it back now.

"Recording accepted. Welcome, Agent Dunham."

Agent Glass tenses. "Captain-"

"Agent," he replies, somehow sounding more calm rather than less. "JARVIS is opening the gate."

She isn't happy, but she doesn't argue, rolling up the drive that fronts the soaring white building. It looks more like a castle than a mansion. They stop at the front doors, positioned carefully behind a screen of bushes and hidden from the street. Steve climbs out and trots around to open Olivia's door before Agent Glass can get there and glare at the woman.

"Agent Dunham," he says, indicating as best he can that he's not bothered by her title. She's still in trouble - and if this is all just a very elaborate, convincing ruse, it's not like she'll have access to any sensitive material in the residential areas of the mansion. Besides, he has trouble believing a spy would let something that significant slip. "We'll set you up in one of the guest rooms for the time being."

...Of course, that means he needs to remember how to find them.

"Thank you," Olivia murmurs as she steps out of the car, a little annoyed with herself for letting it slip out like that. She doesn't think it needed to say a secret, and she probably would have told him before long, but it probably would have helped if it came along with the rest of the story.

"I promise I will explain. Everything." Or at least whatever part of "everything" is necessary to understand who she is and what she's doing here. "It's just... a very long story."

"So's mine." He smiles at her again, then leans into the SUV to thank the scowling agent at the wheel before closing the door firmly between Olivia and Agent Glass. She's probably off to report this whole thing to Coulson, but as long as Agent Dunham is inside the mansion before the man shows up, there won't be much he can do - SHIELD or not.

Steve leads the way up the stairs, repeating his name and letting JARVIS prick his finger to confirm his identity before the front doors open into what's still the biggest foyer Steve has ever seen. Columns framing a red carpet across a marble floor, the grand stairway at the end winding up to balconies overlooking the room on either side.

He feels a little like he has to explain. "This was Tony's mother's house, then a museum. Tony redid the place before we - the Avengers, I mean - before we moved in."

Steve hesitates, then says, "JARVIS?"

"Sir."

A little helplessly: "...Where are the guest rooms?"

"Bored with your suite already, Steve-o?" Tony comes trotting down from one of the galleries, focused on the touchpad in his hands. "You could have just said someth-"

He sees Olivia and stops short, looking from Steve to her and back again with a kind of affronted incredulity on his face. "...Do you have any idea how many bets I'm about to lose?"

Olivia manages not to stare as they step inside, but her eyebrows do shoot up in surprise. Even hearing the word "mansion", and seeing the outside, this is... not what she expected. Whoever these people are, the kind of resources they have - resources not even dedicated to their actual job - is insane.

"Uh-huh," she says slowly, wondering if she's supposed to know who Tony is. She'll ask exactly who the Avengers are once they've had a chance to sit down and talk.

Her attention snaps from the foyer in general to Tony as soon as she hears his footsteps coming down the stairs. She folds her arms over her chest, pulling Steve's jacket a little more tightly around her, and gives him a cool smile. "I don't think you are, actually. Unless you've been making some very strange and incredibly unlikely bets."

Tony just raises his eyebrows. "What exactly were you two planning on doing tonight?"

"Nothing!" Steve is pink all the way to the ears, covering his face with one hand. "Tony, can you please show a little respect. She's here on business."

"Yeahuh." The engineer gives them a cockeyed look. "Definitely dressed for b-"

"Agent Dunham," Steve says, cutting Tony off before he can get any further. "This is Tony Stark. Tony, Agent Olivia Dunham."

"You have a type," Tony says. "JARVIS! Have someone bring a set of clothes that would fit a woman... five-eight, five-nine. Hundred thirty pounds give or take ten." He looks back down at his touchscreen, clearly starting to lose interest. "Let's get her set up in the honeymoon suite."

"Of course, sir."

Steve looks like he's in pain. He feels a little bit like he's going to be sick and makes a mental note to point himself in Tony's direction. "I'm sorry," he says. "For him. Really, really sorry."

The man in question comes over and gives Steve a light clap on the shoulder. "Wait until I've done something worth apologizing for, ducky."

Olivia's smile turns into a hint of a smirk, more amused than anything else. "It's fine - I've met worse. At least he's managed not to call me sweetheart so far."

She's not going to comment on the honeymoon suite. It looks like if they stand here much longer, Steve might actually die of embarrassment, and Olivia has the feeling she might need him. So instead, she simply nods to Tony and says with just the barest hint of sarcasm, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome, Agent Dunham," Tony says, matching her tone note for note, a twinkle of amusement on his face. "I like her, Cap."

He gives Steve another clap on the shoulder. " All right, it's decided. You have my blessing, Rogers. Go, eat, drink - maybe not that last one - and make merry knowing that your team leader is satisfied with your choice of twenty-first century companionship. Agent."

He salutes Olivia and turns toward one of the doors on the first floor, talking to JARVIS. "I'm just saying the adamantium plating sacrifices speed for security - if we have to double-up on quinjets, then we double up. One for speed, one for situations where we have to go in hot. Oh-"

Tony waves one hand at the pair near the doorway. "Guest rooms up the stairs and to the left. Have fun, kiddies."

Steve is trying very hard to find something to say. Either that or melt into the ground. That would work equally well. "I wasn't- I didn't-"

He crosses his arms and huddles in on himself a bit, unable to look at her. "I really, really didn't bring y- He. He's Tony."

Olivia bites back another smile at Steve's awkwardness.

"It's fine." She spares one glance in Tony's direction as he walks off, and then back to Steve. "I know the type. So..." She gestures to the stairs. "You want to lead the way, or...?"

She'd say she could probably find her own way if he'd rather be elsewhere, but she doubts he'd actually let her go off on her own - and she can't blame him. If some woman fell out of nowhere in front of her, dressed like she is, Olivia wouldn't let her wander off either.

"Oh. Yeah. If you'll-" He gestures and leads the way up the stairs, keeping his head ducked low and trying very, very hard not to flail. "He's a bit like his father that way. Tony is, I mean. Howard - the older Mr. Stark - he always made time for... you know. Colonel Phillips used to say he didn't make time for women, he made time for work."

Steve makes a helpless little gesture, ambling down one of the soaring wings of the mansion to a hall labeled "GUESTS" in five different language. "Oh. I guess- JARVIS? Which room is-"

One of the doors half-way down the hall swings open. "And that... would be it. I'll wait out here, if that's all right. Just. Let me know when you're ready to talk."

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