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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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."

"Of course. I won't be long." She starts to head to the open door, and then pauses, and turns back toward Steve for just a moment. "I... Thank you. You didn't have to help me. You still don't, and... I appreciate it."

With that, she starts off down the hall to the room, and closes the door gently behind her after stepping inside. It's kind of a shame she's too tired to really appreciate it. The room's huge, and beautiful, with a beautiful view - of mountains rather than New York, presumably some kind of hologram Olivia's not curious enough to investigate, but it is pretty.

There are clothes laid out on the bed - black slacks, a white blouse, underclothes... The outfit's more familiar to her than the other Olivia's wardrobe, actually - that's somehow more reassuring than the lack of amber or zeppelins here. This isn't home, but it's not the universe she was running from either. The rest she can deal with. A little of the tension eases from her as she shrugs out of Steve's jacket and walks to the bed to collect the clothes.

"If you would prefer an alternative color palette, you need only specify," JARVIS says, sounding as clinical as always. "The bathroom is located through the door on your left. I have informed Captain Rogers he may wait for you in the sitting room - through the door to your right. It has hall access."

Steve is in fact there, standing and looking 'out' one of the holographic windows with his hands clasped behind him in parade rest. He looks every inch the young soldier, even in khakis and a button-up blue shirt. Even though there's a wall between him and Olivia's temporary bedroom, he can't help pointedly keeping his back to her door. It just seems rude to do otherwise.

Besides, the view is nice. It reminds him of the view out the window of one of the SSR planes, flying low during sunrise over the Baltic... Steve sighs, amused at himself, and gives a little shake of his head. "Wake up, Rogers. You're in the middle of New York City with someone who can... teleport. You have other things to think about."

Edited 2011-09-18 23:18 (UTC)

Olivia starts a little at the voice of the computer, and glances to the ceiling as she answers, "Um... that won't be necessary, this is fine. Thank you."

She strips out of the damp, clinging clothes she got from Liberty Island the instant she reaches the bathroom, hurling them to the floor with maybe a little too much force. She doesn't want to look at them, never mind wear them, for a second longer than she has to. It only takes a minute after that to towel herself off, dress properly, finger-comb her hair into something a little more presentable.

She pauses in front of the mirror before heading back out of the bathroom. She still looks like hell, but she's been worse. There's no trace of the marks that had been drawn on her face, though she can't stop herself from scrubbing at her forehead with her fingers anyway as she turns and crosses the room to the opposite door.

Olivia stops just outside the doorway when she sees Steve by the window with his back to her. "Mr. Rogers? Or would you prefer Captain?"

He startles, much the way she did at JARVIS, and then looks immediately sheepish. "Captain is fine, ma'am. Miss Dunham - Agent Dunham, sorry. Do those- does everything fit all right? Do you need anything to eat? I can ask JARVIS to call someone."

Steve gestures to one of the couches, taking a seat on the one opposite, across the low coffee table. "If you need anything while you're here, don't hesitate to ask him. There are only a few full-time residents in the mansion and the place is fully staffed twenty-four hours a day, so..." He coughs. "Tony doesn't believe in doing things half-way."

Olivia takes the offered seat, back straight, hands clasped in front of her. "Everything's perfect. And no, I'm not hungry, but... I wouldn't mind some tea."

She sighs a little, and looks down at her folded hands on her lap. "I'm grateful for your help and... all of this," she says, with a gesture to the clothes, "but I'm hoping I won't be here long. I think I'm needed back in m- where I come from, as soon as I can figure out how to get there."

Steve opens his mouth, but JARVIS beats him. "Do you have a preference, Agent Dunham?"

"Earl Gray for me, please," Steve says. He unconsciously mimics her position, leaning forward slightly when she talks. "It's my job, Agent Dunham. It's what I'm here for. But you're welcome."

He's silent for a moment. "I'm going to guess it's not as simple as a plane ticket to Boston. Do you mine starting with who you work for and going from there?"

"Earl Gray for me too, thank you."

She draws a breath, and laughs shortly at his question, shaking her head. "No, I don't a plane ticket is going to help much. Unfortunately." Explaining who she works for, even what they do... that's easy, at least. Getting him to believe her may not be, but she'll see how well he takes it. She might be breaching all kinds of confidentiality agreements in telling him, but Broyles can take her to task for it later, if she ever makes it back home.

"I work for the FBI, in Fringe Division. It's a task force that investigates the things other people can't explain. Unusual experiments, impossible technology, people with strange abilities... parallel universes..." She watches his face closely as she speaks, watching for absolutely any reaction - recognition, disbelief, whatever she can read that might give her a hint as to how to proceed, how much and what to tell him.

He rubs a hand across his lips, processing what she's saying without a hint of disbelief. "When you asked if I'd heard of Fringe Division, I honestly hadn't. If you're FBI, I should have. I haven't." He settles back on the couch, still sitting ramrod straight. "More than that, what you're describing sounds a lot like SHIELD."

For his own part, Steve is trying to figure out how much he should pry. How much she's willing to disclose. "Agent Dunham, if I said you're not from around here. Would that be... accurate on more than one level?"

Edited 2011-09-19 01:44 (UTC)

"I hadn't heard about Fringe Division until I was recruited to it. But you're right, I don't think it exists here. In any form."

She presses her lips together, trying to find the simplest way to phrase this. It's not easy - she doesn't often get the chance to talk about any of this with anyone who doesn't already know all about it, and there are so many background details, so many frankly insane concepts to accept... Fine. She'll go with the very simple version.

"Very accurate. A friend of mine was taken to a parallel universe. I went to get him back, and... I did, but the other version of me went back with him. I got stuck there, and..."

Spent three months just trying to remember who she was while God knows what went on back on. It scares her to think about what the other Olivia could have been doing while she was on the other side.

"They were gonna kill me. The alternate Fringe Division. I was trying to get home, but... I don't know. It went wrong somehow. I shouldn't be here."

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