Her mother quietly crossed the porch and sat down at the table, her smile sad and her eyes wet.
"Ma, what's wrong?" Shynear asked.
Her mother waved her off with a quiet click of the tongue. "Your father used to sing that song to you.”
Shynear felt her heart race. They never talked about her father.
“You two really understood each other,” said Ma, continuing on without any notice of Shynear’s heart. “Most times he was the only one who could get you to go to sleep." Ma grinned at her next and said, "I remember the day you were born, we were Dr. Rosing's office because we didn't make it to the big hospital, and the first time he took you in his arms, he opens his mouth like he wants to ask a question. But then he closes it again. Your Dad, everybody thought he was a little strange--even me. He acted like he had these traditions and this culture, but it was nothing like I had ever heard of. Your grandparents and I didn't want to put him down though, because we knew a thing or two about not being believed about our own traditions.
"So anyway, he looks like he wants to say something, so I ask him what. And he wants to know if he can take you outside for a minute. It's a tradition in his family, to take you out to look at the stars, or something like that. Well, Dr. Rosing says that as long as we keep you swaddled it's fine, so your grandparents help me out of bed and we all go outside. And the dawn had just begun--it was beautiful the way it just lit up the sky. And your father said some words over you like a blessing, and so your grandfather had to say one too. Then we all go back inside so you can I can rest a little, and I can feed you."
Shynear titled her head to one side. "So, he just wanted to show me the stars?"
"Well, no." Her mother waggled a finger at her. "I asked him if that was all, and he said traditionally at least one of a child's names came from the first star they saw. And you reached your fat little hand out to what he called the first star of the morning. In his tongue that was Shynearaian." Ma shook her tongue and clucked again. "He said that he didn't want to give you a bad name, and so he would let me decide. Well, I said that I like Shynearaian just fine, it sounded so pretty the way your father said it. And well, he wanted you to have my last name since his was so strange, so I figured it was a fair trade."
"That's a nice story," said Shynear, resting her chin on her hands. "I never knew that's how you came up with my name."
"How'd you figure we did it?" asked her Ma.
"I always sort of thought scrabble tiles," said Shynear, gently.
Ma threw her head back with a deep laugh at this, nearly toppling her chair over.
"Anyway," said Shynear, standing, "your version is better." She learned over and kiss her ma on the cheek before she went back into the house for a set of mugs and the coffee pot. Two mugs in one hand and the coffee pot in the other, she came back out onto the porch and settle them down. "I've been thinking about him a lot, lately, you know?"
Shynear woke as the sunlight hit her face. The morning cool of early spring hit her bare feet as she slid out of bed and into a pair of house shoes. The sunrise, Shynear observed, colored the sky with a generous array of hues from the golden color of the sun, stretching to the deep blue of the lingering night sky. Shynear had a sudden urge to paint it, though she seldom painted anymore and she had never considered herself to be very good.
She wrapped herself in a sweater and slide through the open window to the balcony. "This is a hell of a sunrise," she said, leaning against the balcony railing. She said it to no one in particular, but liked to think her grandparents might be listening. Her Ma would be here any moment, so she didn't bother with more words. She probably could have spoken sonnets for the dead--Grandma, Grandpa, her father. But Shynear didn't get much peace and quiet these days.
The front door slammed. "Shy! You up, baby?" Her mother's voice rang through the house like a new church bell--always too early.
Sighing at the sunrise, Shynear called into the house, "Down in a second, Ma!"
As she dressed for the day, Shynear could her mother and Richard, Ma's boyfriend, talking. Richard must have been leading the conversation--he was always the quiet sort, contrasting to her mother's boisterous nature, like a cloud on a sunny day. Shynear strained to hear what they were saying, though she didn't know why she bothered. He was talking about the house again. It was all he seemed to talk about when Shynear was around these days. Shynear finished lacing her boots and tossed on a jacket. She made no attempt to keep quiet as she trod across the squeaking boards into the hall. The conversation went quiet.
By the time Shynear got downstairs her mother was alone in the kitchen.
"Good morning. Richard didn't want to stay for breakfast?" Shynear asked, striding from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen.
"Morning, and no," said Ma. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Shynear, kissing her daughter's cheek and letting hers be kissed in return. "Happy Birthday, Baby."
"Thanks, Ma," said Shynear, letting her Ma squeeze her tight.
"Now," said Ma pulling back and tapping Shynear's shoulder. "There's apple pie and egg casserole for breakfast on the porch."
Shynear smiled bright. "My favorites." She bumped their hips together as she took down plates and utensils. "You're not buttering me up for anything are you?"
"It's your birthday," said her mother, waggling a finger at her. "Everyone deserves a little butter on their birthday, free of charge. I am waiting for the coffee to brew. You go out and cut the pie. I'll just be a minute."
Shynear stepped out onto the porch, where her mother had laid out the pie and casserole, along with two plates and two sets of utensils. She helped herself to a large slice of both and sat down. Shy hummed a song as she took a bite of her mother's apple pie, which made her hum a little happier. Something about the way your mother made food--she had friends that said the same, that nothing tasted as good as when your mother made it. As Shynear took a bit of the casserole next, she began to feel like someone was watching her. She turned to the porch door way and saw her mother standing there.
An Insight As Of Late:
Rewriting shit is really a great way to make your writing better. Like, I've written a resume, cover letter, and fic chapter lately. I've had to rewrite each of them like three times. And they're all a lot better now. It sucks to rewrite things multiple times, but they're better now.
@levynite and @ignescent (who it’s not letting me tag) helped me come up with the main character’s name and @afearsomecritter came up with the current title. This is an idea I got reading a post about Lois McMaster Bujold’s work. And I’m just going with it so far.
The cool, calm air of the morning still permeated the Librarian's house as Rizana sat next to her window and watched the sun rise over the harbor. The light hit the water, illuminating to a deep blue green from the distance. Rizana knew up close you could actually see down several feet, if not the bottom in places. She would rather be down on the water today, fishing, rather than riding all day to the capital.
"Rizana!" her mother's voice sang through the house and drew Rizana's attention to the door. Mother pushed open the door and greeted her with a smiling face.
Rizana thought she and her mother looked quite alike, which was fortunate, because her mother had always been described as a great beauty, even into her older age. Rizana thought that her laughter lights around her mouth and eyes, and the grey hairs streaked through made her look even lovelier.
Mother reached out for a hug, pulling her close. "I was hoping you hadn't slipped out yet."
"The porter and guard aren't here quite yet," said Rizana. She pulled back and gave her mother a smile as well. "I'm glad of it. I never sleep well before traveling. I was hoping to breakfast so I might have something to keep me going."
"Well, cook has something on if you'd like to come down," said Mother, running her hands through Rizana's loose, dark hair. "But I have some things to give you first."
Mother had in her her hands a sealed letter and a pouch. She held out the pouch first, which Rizana took without hesitation. Rizana undid the strings of the pouch and shook it to slide the contents onto her hands. Three long strings of stones slid into her hand gold stone stacked on sky blue stones stacked on sea blue stones. "They're beautiful," said Rizana, clasping them around her neck and turning toward her mirror. They stood out delightfully against her green dress. Rizana imagined that they would stand out even more against the royal red.
"Your father gave them to me," said Mother, with a dark grin. "When I had told him we had made you."
"Mother!" Rizana turned back to her, her face frozen between horror and delight. "Will he think well of you giving them to me?"
Mother leaned forward and kissed her forehead with a laugh. "Your father will be delighted to see you wear them, I'm certain. And the letter is for him as well -- a result of our meeting a few months ago."
The turn of phrase confused her at first, but given their conversation a moment ago, it clicked into place for her. "A child?" Rizana asked, unable to keep herself from grinning. "A sister?"
Mother laughed again. "You would think you wouldn't be so excited, given how many sisters you have."
"But not one all of my own!" said Rizana. Her smile darkened as she gave the matter a moment's more thought. "Mother, are you sure you ought to be having a child? Have you spoken with a midwife?"
"I think I'd know a thing or two more about having a baby than you would my girl," said Mother leveling her with a dark look.
"You're nearly fifty is all I'm saying. Most people wouldn't have a baby after thirty."
"Rizana!"
"Alright!" she held up her hands, and then held one out for the letter. "I'll be sure to give it to him, Mother, I'm sure he'll be delighted."
"He usually is," said Mother with a wink. "The man took it as a challenge to have as many daughters as he could. Now, come and break your fast, the porters and guard should be here soon." Her mother linked their arms together and they walked arm in arm to the dining room.
Despite being their home, and not an official part of the library, books still lined a great number of the walls, where their were not wall hangings and a great many windows that let the sun light that bounced off the sea water into their home. The library had been designed in a similar manner when her mother had commissioned an older building to be remade for the library. The building (it could not be determined if it had been a castle or a manor house or both in turn) had a tower attached that had not been much good for the purposes of storing books, and so with Rizana on her hip, mother moved into the tower as the librarian's home.
It was sometime after dawn had fully hit the harbor when the porters and guard finally came for her. It had given the household, and Rizana, plenty of time to move her things to the entry hall, and to eat a fulfilling breakfast. When they finally arrived, Rizana saw why they were later than normal. A new captain stood at the head of the porters and two other guards.
"Rizana, Caiara's daughter?" he asked her.
"Yes, indeed," said Rizana, tilting her head to the side. "And who might you be?"
"Captain Willes, ma'am," he said, clapping his heels together with a bow. "Your normal escort, Captain Phylim, has retired, and I was assigned to you in his stead."
"Well, I'm sure if the king or the general assigned you to me, you will do your job to perfection," said Rizana, nodding to them. She stepped to the side and held out an arm to the front hall. "Please enter."
Captain Willes and his two guards stood the side and allowed the two porter to take Rizana's trunks to the carts. Rizana kissed her mother one more time, and they bid each other good-bye. They would see each other again in a month and week or so, but it always felt so long when she was at court. She hoped that which ever of her sisters were housed with her were ones she could stand so the time might pass a little faster.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Rizana looked up to see Captain Willes riding beside where she sat in the cart.
"Just thinking," said Rizana, looking to him. "Are we making a caravan with any of my sisters along the way?"
"The Lady Nariah's daughters," said Captain Willes.
Rizana didn't bother to stifle her groan. No one knew how Lady Nariah did it, but she had born two sets of twin daughters as well as a set of twin sons for her own husband. Further, all six children had been born within six years and were all incredibly close. Their closeness tended to annoy everyone around them as they had little room in their conversations or activities for anyone else, even when in forced quarters like travel.
"Everyone has had that reaction," said Willes, with a small smile.
"You'll soon see why," said Rizana, rolling her eyes. "Have you been in my father's service long, Captain?"
"A few years," said Willes with a shrug. "I had only just earned my captain's stripes when Captain Phylim retired."
Rizana snorted at that. "I hope your first assignment goes well then."
They rode in silence from then on. The role of the wheels underneath her and the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves soon sent Rizana to sleep. One of the porters woke her mid-day to have her drink some water so that she did not dehydrate from travel. They had to spend the first night on the road, but the second night allowed them to stay at an inn
whelp, I shouldn’t have started another fic, but here I am. I saw King Arthur: Legend of the Sword this weekend and it spoke to me.
When she's born, they call her Arthur.
Uther worries for his wife, his queen, and his kingdom as she labors. It's a hard one, he can hear all of the midwives murmur as they go in and out of the room. Vortigern sits by his side--at first he had tried to make his older brother laugh, telling jokes, asking when his nephew would be old enough for the hunt--but has since gone quiet with his own worry. He loves Igraine, too, as a brother should, and he worries for Uther's soul as well, what would happen if his wife falls and his heir dies. So now they sit, quiet, holding hands like they haven't since they were boys.
(Uther knows it not, but a dark part of Vortigern knows exactly what he would do if sister-by-law and her child perished. He knows exactly how to push Uther to the very edge.)
Igraine gives a long scream and then nothing. A baby cries but Uther cannot hear any sound from his wife and he rises to barge into the door. A midwife appears and holds him back. "She lives sire, but we need to make sure of it," says the midwife. "So you need to let her rest."
A second midwife appears and pulls his arms up so that she might settle a baby there.
"What is it?" Uther asks.
"A bub, your majesty," says the lass with a smile.
Her smile and her candor chokes a laugh from his belly.
The elder midwife only rolls her eyes. "You have a daughter, sire. A strong girl, too, well formed and bright eyed." And then they shut the door in his face, and Uther finds himself reduced, again, to waiting.
His daughter looks up at him her eyes bright and blue.
"Didn't everyone say it would be a boy?" Vortigern asks, looking them both over. "The midwives, the mages, everybody."
"Wishful thinking it would seem," says Uther. He wraps his furs around her, tucking her into his chest. He can feel her small heart pumping strong and true. "What's done is done."
Vortigern shrugs at this. "Maybe Elsa will grant me a son."
(That was not to be either. Elsa began her labor a few days after Igraine's, nearly a fortnight too early from all the stress. Still, her labor was not as difficult, and she too brought forth a daughter. Catia was not as hearty, but that was to be expected of an early born babe.)
The child appears content to share his warmth and to sleep, at least until she gets hungry. A wet nurse appears at the baby's cries and suckles his daughter, and then Uther takes her back. Eventually the midwives dismiss him to sleep in his own bed. Uther takes the girl with him. He rocks her when she cries, holds her close as they sleep, even helps to clean her mess and bathe her, though the wet nurse is much better than he at such things. Igraine still lives after three days, though she still needs rest, and the girl is ever at his side where ever he goes.
"Is it seemly of a king to carry around his child, like...like..." Vortigern struggles for words.
"Like a father?" Uther asks with a raised brow as he sits at the head of his table.
Bedivere and William snort from where they sit in cahoots, hiding their smiles behind coughs.
Vortigern rolls his eyes at them. "Something to say, good sirs?"
Bedivere nods. "Well, she will be king one day, will she not? Where better to learn than at her father's side?"
A baron sneers at him. "A woman cannot be king, Sir Bedivere."
"Would you rather a foreign prince who will take your lands and tax you for the privilege of letting him take the king's seat?" Sir William asks, his voice slick as cooked fat. "I'd much rather a woman be king than someone who doesn't speak or language or respect or ways, or may even depose our barons if they should not like them."
The baron considers this. "I only mean, should she have a brother, he will inherit before her."
(She will not. Igraine is much too weakened to bear another child, this the midwives will tell Uther. Igraine will offer to be put aside, to take the girl and go to a convent. Uther will say no. They keep the secret until their dying day, no one questioning why the queen has not yet born a son, for the princess is but four years old then--and children take time.)
Five days after she is born, the midwives at last say Igraine is rested enough to see them both. She smiles so brightly at him when he enters with their daughter in his arms. "I asked to see her, and they said she was already attending council meetings."
"Best to start young," says Uther, smiling at her as he leans forward to kiss her lips. They are chapped from her illness. "Otherwise it takes an age to learn to sit still for so long."
"Let me hold her then," says Igraine when Uther is settled. Uther passes the babe over, and Igraine rocks the child and hums a sweet tune. "Have you thought of a name?" Igraine asks as she keeps her tears at bay.
"We agreed on Arthur, did we not?" Uther asks.
"When everyone said we were having a boy," said Igraine, rolling her eyes. With one hand she undoes her shift and lowers it down so the girl may suckle.
"So?" Uther leans back in his chair as he watches Igraine with their child. "She will be king one day. She needs a good, strong name to hold her up."
Igraine hums at the thought. "She might hate us for it," says Igraine.
"We'll teach her to love it," says Uther. He takes Igraine's free hand in his own and squeezes. "Just as we'll teach her everything else."
Igraine’s smile lights fire in his soul. “Very well,” she says. “But if she hates it, it’s on your head, Uther Pendragon, not mine.”
Arthur whines when they must leave her mother, because the midwives say she needs rest again. Uther settles her with something that begins to resemble ease. “I think you’ll be a fine king one day, my darling,” he says, pressing a kiss to the girl’s forehead as he walks on his way. “You’ll be a fine king indeed.”
Years later, as he feels Excalibur pierce his back, turning him to stone, Uther watches his daughter float away, and he thinks the same, “One day, my darling, you will be a fine king.”
We were watching the literal total eclipse of the heart video. And I remembered that I once started a novel based on the actual lyrics of Total Eclipse of the Heart...so it’s a vampire novel set in the early 80s (no, really, Total Eclipse of the Heart is a song about vampire lovers). Anyway.
Lili saw the open door from down the hall as she approached with one bag full of groceries, one bag filled with booze, and a final bag filled with books. She huffed, wondering who had the audacity not only to break in, but leave the door wide open and put on one of her records.
She set her bags down before looking in, just in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Inside, she saw two men, both of whom Lili recognized. Thom, who lived across the hall, bustled around her kitchen, his shoulder length hair pulled back into a bun on his head. He pulled a stoneware dish out of the oven and placed it on the counter and then looked up at her with a smile. “Need any help with your bags?” he asked.
He didn’t wait for a response, merely stepped out into the hall with her and took the large bags of food and booze. Thom hummed as he began to put away the bottles and fresh groceries in their proper places. Lili wanted to ask how he knew where they went, but decided against it. Instead, she took the bag of books and began to unpack them onto the desk in her living room. As she did so, she passed the second man who occupied her apartment.
This man Lili only recognized from photos. He sat at table a decanter in one hand and a bottle of 1886 Merlot in the other.
“I was saving that, you know,” said Lili as she finished unpacking the books. The man looked up at her and blinked. He looked a distinguished fifty, Lili decided, his hair and beard well groomed with only a touch of silver in each. The eyes, though, they gave everything away. His eyes were too dark for a normal, human man.
As she finished with the books, Lili crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You know, popular film will have you believe that vampires will open your balcony doors at night and try to jump into bed with you so they might suck you blood. Really,” she said, crossing the room to close and lock her door, “they’re mostly nuisances. They break into your apartment and fix dinner with your dishes and decant your wine.”
“I’ll match the bottle, if you like,” said the man at her table.
Thom muttered something about having done the dishes already, but did not break off from his bustling.
Lili waved him off. “I suppose it is the point of fine things, is to use them. And there will always be more wine.”
He poured a glass and handed it to her. “Oh, certainly, as long as there are people to drink it there will be more wine.” He poured himself a glass and tapped their two together.
“And what are we toasting?” Lili asked.
“History, my dear,” he said with a wide smile, so much that she could almost see his fangs. “As if there is anything left to toast.”
“Sir Henry thought you might be more comfortable in your own apartment,” said Thom. He pulled the roast out of the stoneware dish he had used to bake it in and set it down one a cutting board. “And you know me,” Thom said as he began to slice up the roast, “I love food.”
He had already placed a bowl of potatoes and carrots to the side, as well as dish of potatoes and one of gravy. Lili reached over the table and took the bowls from the bar and placed them on the table, around a loaf of bread that had yet to be cut. “Thank you,” he said, as he passed her a plate of roast carvings. “Now, where are you plates.”
Lili directed him to the plates and silverware. “Is this my last meal then?” asked Lili settling down in a chair opposite Sir Henry.
“Not as such for you, my dear,” said Sir Henry who began to serve up each plate. “There is the matter of turning you, but there are new laws of course. These days we typically wait until someone has aged to about thirty. To ensure their brain has matured.”
“No more child vampires, like me,” said Thom, winking at her. Thom appeared to be in his early twenties. Not a child by any means, but still not the age of Sir Henry.
“But Thomas and I are here on a personal as well as government matter.” Sir Henry passed her a plate of food. “A matter of setting the record straight, as it were.”
“Oh,” said Lili, as she took the plate of food. “You’ve come to ask about Ashland.”
“Yes,” they said as one.
Thom set about cutting the bread while Sir Henry made up another plate of food. Thom placed a piece of the sourdough bread on her plate.
“What do you want to know?” Lili asked as they passed food among each other.
Sir Henry waved her off. “First, let us eat. It has been a long day for us all, and the sun only just set.”
There was a pause as they each began to cut into their meat and food. Lilli had to admit, as she ate, that Thom was an excellent cook. “Thank you,” she said. “For the food.”
“Oh, you are most welcome,” he said, taking a bite of the roast. “But tell me, what did you think of the latest film?”
“Which one?” Lili asked.
“You know...” With a giggle he flashed his fangs.
“Oh,” she said. “That one. Descent, as far as vampire films go. Had a few problems as far as film in general. And I don’t think it quite replaced The Vampire Lovers in my heart.”
Thom jerked his head to Sir Henry, who was taking great interest in his food. “Sir Henry dislikes the vampire film on principle.”
“I simply choose not to endorse that which takes guesses at our nature.” Sir Henry thoroughly chewed a piece of roast. “Excellent fare, Thomas.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Dinner lapsed between banter, inquisitions of work and other topics of conversations until they had all finished eating. Thom twitched when Lili told him to leave the last round of dishes in the sink.
“And when was the last time you fed?” Sir Henry asked, as Thom fidgeted taking up an occupation in Lili’s desk chair.
He proceeded to pull up a folding table, on top of which was a typewriter, and mess with the typewriter’s settings. “I’m fine,” he said, not looking up at Sir Henry.
“That is not what I asked, Thomas.” Sir Henry turned to Lili with a sigh. “My dear, since Thomas cannot seem to asked, would you be so kind?”
“Certainly,” said Lili. She settled her glass of wine down onto an end table. Moving the folding table out of the way, Lili straddled Thom’s lap and began to unbutton her blouse.
“You don’t have to,” said Thom, though his hands slid onto her hips, holding her in place as he spoke.
“I’m offering,” she said, moving her hair to one side, that she might clear away the last of his obstacles.
For his meager protests, Thom did not hesitate. His fangs grew long and sank into her neck with ease. It felt almost less painful than some shots. He suckled at her, drawing the blood from her and gulping it down in large mouthfuls. Lili felt him go still, almost slack, save for his suckling and the growth of his penis between his legs.
Sir Henry came over after a minute or two and began to run his hands thru Thom’s hair and over his shoulders. “Now, now, Thomas, leave some for her.”
Thom suckled for a second more before he pulled his mouth away from her neck. Lili jumped as he pulled his fangs out, something one never quite got used to. They both sat still for a moment, catching their breaths. Then, Thom, with his fangs still drawn asked, “Bathroom?”
Lili stood with a groan, and pointed him down the hall. “First on the right, you’ll know where you’ve come to it.”
“Thanks,” he said, slowly standing as not to jostle the bulge in his trousers.
Lili stumbled a little as she moved to return to her couch. Sir Henry caught her, guiding her until she could sink down with the cushions around her. “Thank you,” she said.
“Let me get you some water.”
Lili squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to get her head to stop swimming. She tried not to flinch as Sir Thomas moved around her kitchen, banging the cabinets as he searched for a glass. Once he had found it though, and filled it, Lili did not hear from Sir Henry again until he reached out for her hand saying, “Be careful, it’s quite full.”
Lili opened her eyes and drank deep from the water.
“Do you have any iron?” Sir Henry asked.
“There are supplements in the bathroom,” said Lili, as she managed to open her eyes. Thom stood before her in a moment holding the bottle in front of her. “I hope you washed your hands.”
“Of course,” he said, doling out a horse pill of iron.
Lili took it, swallowing with the water. Her head was beginning to clear, and she didn’t feel quite so weak as she had a moment before. She still closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing, making sure that her dinner didn’t want to come up after giving up her blood.
When she heard the winding and ting of the typewriter, Lili opened her eyes again. Sir Henry had taken up residence in her arm chair and had a field journal on his lap with a fountain pen in his hand. Thomas had taken up his folding table again, and poised himself over the typewriter, ready to go whenever Lili was.
“So then?” Lili asked. “What is it exactly, you wanted to know?”
Sir Henry pursed his lips. “I suppose,” he said after a moment, “for Thomas and myself we are looking for some closure. There is also...an administrative need to discuss what happened to you. Given that there was both the death of a vampire and a hunter, we do need a record for our annuls.”
“Very well,” said Lili. She shuffled herself forward to get a fresh glass of water. Thom, swooped in and took her glass from her before she could stand. “Where would you like me to start?” she asked as she watched him go to the kitchen. “I’m not exactly sure how to tell this story?”
“Like any other,” said Thom, returning her glass, now filled. “Start with the beginning, go on to the middle, stop when you find the end.”
“Ah but where does this story begin?” Lili asked. “Does it start that night the both of them died? Does it start when he awoke from his shallow grave? When he was turned? With the first turning?”
“Well, we already know how those last two went,” said Thom.
“Tell us where the story begins for you, my dear,” said Sir Henry.
Lili took a long drink of water, then nibbled her lip as she thought. “We, my mom and I, moved to Ashland in late December the year before. She had just left my dad—at the time I thought it would be best to go with her,”
“Was it?” Sir Henry asked.
“I don’t know—even after all this time, I really can’t say. In the end, it’s what I did, and there’s no changing that.”
Thom clicked away at his typewriter. “So the story starts when you and your mother moved?”
“Not really,” said Lili. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened for the first few months. Mom-taught—I went to school and got a job myself,. Really I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until my senior year started.”
Thom paused in his typing. “So that’s when it starts?” he asked, pulling his paper free and running through the typewriter a new sheet of paper.
Lili thought for a moment more. She nodded. “Yes—that’s when it started. August 15, 1983.”
Probably the most surprising thing is Caitlin is a dog person. It was Barry's first official hang out session with Caitlin and Cisco. They had decided it was easiest to make some food at Caitlin's place (since she had the best kitchen) and watch the new releases from the library. But the grocery store near Caitlin's house was next to a PetsMart. So, when Caitlin saw a dog she immediately stopped to pet it (after asking the owner's permission, of course).
"Hello, baby!" said Caitlin to the dog. "Hello! Oh, aren't you just beautiful!"
She was a beautiful dog, thought Barry--a boxer or pit bull or a mix with a marble brown and black coat. She waggled her tail as Caitlin showered her with complements and scratched her behind the ears.
"If Caitlin gets to pet dogs, I want to play with the cats," said Cisco, tugging on Barry's sleeve. "C'mon, she's gonna get distracted by every dog along the way."
"Dogs are better!" said Caitlin as she called over her shoulder.
"You wish!" said Cisco as he walked toward the PetsMart entrance.
This PetSmart had the door to the cat room open, though all of the cats were in their cages. Cisco eagerly gravitated to the cats, sticking his fingers through the bars to run his fingers through their fur. The cats responded by purring delightfully. "I love cats," said Cisco, as he held his hand in place so that one cat could rub themselves all over him. "I'd get Papaya a sibling if my building would let me."
"Papaya is your cat?" Barry asked.
Cisco beamed at him, pulling out his phone in two seconds flat. "She was being really cute last night so I've got some great pictures of her--lemme show you." Papaya is an average house cat with a tawny, striped coat that looks golden in certain lights.
"So, does she like papayas or does she just look like one?" Barry asked, watching the cat with slight amazement.
"She was more orange when she was younger," said Cisco, still swiping through the photos of Papaya laying on him or playing with string of feathers attached to a stick. "My brother Dante named her and wanted to keep her, but my mom is allergic to cats, so she came home with me."
Caitlin wandered in somewhere mid montage and asked, "Just how many pictures do you have of your cat?"
"Less than your imaginary dogs." Cisco winked at Barry and then stuck his tongue out at Caitlin.
"It's not my fault my building doesn't allow dogs bigger than 25 pounds," said Caitlin, crossing her arms over her chest. She dramatically twirled on her toes and stalked out of the cat room, Barry and Cisco following after.
"I keep telling you to get a Wheaten," said Cisco.
"And when one comes to the pound, I most certainly will," said Caitlin. She glanced back at Barry who was following them, an amused smile on his face. Caitlin hung back and took Barry by the arm. "Barry, which animal do you like best?"
Cisco grinned at this and took Barry's other arm as they walked out of PetSmart and back toward the grocery store. "Yeah man--come on, settle the debate for us."
"I don't know how much help I would be." Barry shrugged. "Corvids are my favorite animal. I just have building restrictions like you guys, and really, they do a lot better in the wild instead of being owned."
"Corvids?" said Caitlin and Cisco at once. Then they both scrunched up their noses and shook their heads as if they couldn't believe they'd spoken in tandem. This, naturally, transformed into a face making competition, which left Barry laughing.
"Corvid is a meat eating bird?" Caitlin asked after she and Cisco stopped making faces.
"Black birds," said Barry, smile still on his face. "And blue jays, technically. But blue jays are assholes and black birds are the best. And their omnivores, really. There's a whole flock of them near my apartment that knows me. I think my place is on the way to Caitlin's if you want to see them?" Barry knows it's weird, offering to introduce a flock of birds to his new friends. But Caitlin and Cisco just shrug their assent before the three of them go shopping for dinner.
After they stacked the groceries in Caitlin's hatch, Barry directed her to the park near his place, where he knew the rooks flock. Rooks don't get enough love, in Barry's opinion. Really, they're just as amazing as all of the other corvids, and it takes a few minutes of Barry standing in the park before one of them comes up and lands on his outstretched hand. Barry recognized the bird as Midnight, who eagerly took the berry that Barry offers him and cawed at Barry like he's a little upset. "Yes, I know," said Barry, stroking his feathers. "I'm sorry I was gone so long. I brought lots of food though."
The flock came out to greet them as Midnight cawed and flapped his wings. Barry saw a few of the other birds he knows well like Charcoal and Noir they're a little wary though, because Caitlin and Cisco are new humans that they don't know very well. Barry introduces them, showing them how to feed the birds berries and the proper way to stroke feathers.
"I thought this was going to be all creepy," said Cisco, as he ghosted his finger along Jet's wing. "But they're super nice."
"Told you, corvids are my favorite," said Barry, with a small shrug--he had to keep it small since he had a bird on both shoulders. "And they remember you. Once you help a corvid, they see you as a bird for life."
Caitlin giggled as Ebony rubbed against her. “Well, now that we’ve made ourselves immune from The Birds, we should probably go make dinner.”
They gave their goodbyes to the flock and set out back to the car. Barry, feeling a little pepped up from visiting his favorite birds set a reminder to come and visit them soon.
“Okay Barry,” said Cisco as they buckled in. “I have a very important question for you. Star Trek or Star Wars?”
“StarGate,” Barry retorted, making Cisco and Caitlin laugh.
He felt his shoulders relaxed and thought for the first time since he woke up that maybe things really would be okay.
So for camp nanowrimo my theme is work on the Flash fanfictions that I have going and I have actually made some head way on The Perils of Localized Time Reversal and Power and Compassion. I also started a new fic, On File WIth IA, about how Barry’s life would have changed for the better if he knew criminals. Today, I decided not to write any of that. Instead, I had an idea for a part of this Austrailia!Arrow AU that I’ve been working on, on and off for about a year or so.
Yea.
It’s basically a softer world au, so there’s no undertaking, no plan to cripple the chinese economy--and Olivia Queen moves to Australia to go to university after realize that her life is in a horrible downward spiral. A few years later, after meeting Slade Wilson, becoming his nanny, getting custody of her sister, and moving in with the Wilsons, this scene takes place:
It seemed like a random afternoon when her parents arrived at their front door. Of course, Olivia wasn't there to see them in, otherwise things might have gone a little differently.
Instead it was Grant who answered the door. He casually leaned across the frame and said, "We're very happy with our religion, thank you, but you folks have a wonderful day." He had seen Olivia do this a number of times and it always seemed to work.
The man and the woman simply scowled at him though. "We're actually here to see Olivia and Thea Queen."
"You're going to have a tough time of it, then," said Grant, shrugging gently. "Thea's studying at a friend's house and Olivia is not to be disturbed right now."
"Young man," said the woman, frowning at him. "We are Olivia and Thea's parents. We have been reliably informed that they live here, and I would like to see my daughters now."
"That's all well and good," said Grant with another shrug. "But I've no idea who you are--s'not like Liv and The's parents have ever shown their faces here before. For all I know you're serial killers and want to chop me up and eat me."
Both of them huffed and muttered, "I've never!"
But Grant refused to move and let them in. He realized that they both looked enough like Olivia, if not so much like Thea, that Grant could tell that it was them. And if he cared to, he could have probably looked up a picture of Robert and Moira Queen on the home computer. But he didn't care to. Not after these people had all but forced Olivia out of their lives with their bad behavior and had abandoned Thea here not long after. They never called, they never wrote, and he knew Liv hated talking to her parents about anything.
But then Thea came walking up the drive and froze in her place. Grant tried to motion for her to go round the back so he could slam the door in their faces, but then Thea said, "Mom? Dad?"
Moira and Robert turned, still frowning to see their youngest daughter standing before them.
"What are you doing here?" Thea asked, her face pale and her hands shaking a little.
"Your sister is getting married," said Moira, as she walked forward to embrace her youngest daughter.
Thea, stiffly, pulled her arms around her mother. "But that's not for another few months," said Thea. "Why are you here now?" She pulled away from their hug and took a long look at her mother. "You're not taking me away from here," said Thea after a moment. She pushed passed her mother and then her father, and then only paused to say, "And you're not talking Olivia out of marrying Slade. She's too in love with him for that to work."
Grant rolled his eyes as Thea worked her way inside and went to her room. "Well, I guess you can come in after all."
"You did say Olivia was here?" asked Robert as he stepped inside the house.
"I said she was not to be disturbed," said Grant. "Water?"
"If you wouldn't mind," said Moira. Her face was blank, almost like Grant wasn't really there, or at least wasn't really a person.
Grant dug out two glasses of water and filled them half full of ice before pouring water over them. The Queens accepted them without thanks, but drank deeply out of them. Grant almost wished he had had the chance to pour a diuretic or a laxative in them.
"Where is Olivia, then?" asked Moira when she had finished with her glass. "I'm sure she'll see us whether she wants to be disturbed or not."
"She's in their bedroom," said Grant simply with a shrug.
Neither of them bothered to ask which one it was--all of the other bedroom doors were open. They simply walked back into the house and, without knocking, opened up the bedroom door. He supposed they expected to find Olivia sleeping. Grant knew they definitely did not expect to find Olivia and Dad mid-fuck, but Grant was okay with it. Especially watching both of their faces as they opened the door--both of their carefully controlled expressions went bug eyed and slack jawed as they took in the sight before them.
"Jesus Christ!" Grant heard Olivia scream. "Don't just stand there, close the door!"
Robert quickly reached out and did just that. They had both gone as pale as Thea had been before and stood helplessly before the door. Grant snickered under his breath, and he could see Thea in the doorway of her room, doing the same.
It took a few minutes--Grant knew his parents well enough that they were considering going out the window and going for ice cream. But the door opened, and both of them emerged fully clothed. Slade stalked passed the Queens, going straight for Grant. Grant might have been afraid, because Dad very nearly had his angry face on, if it weren't for the full grin that broke out when he got a little closer. Still, Slade shook his finger, "You don't use your family for a con, you here me? Or at least give us some warning." Dad leaned a little closer, dropped his voice and said, "I'd be more angry but the looks on their faces were really fucking funny." Pulling back and raising his voice he added. "Now go to your room and think about what you've done, young man."
Grant saluted. "Yes, sir, commander, sir." Unable to keep the grin off his face, he sauntered down stairs to his room, but left his door open so that he might strain to listen at the conversation.
Olivia stared down her parents, grateful that she had showered this morning. She wished she didn't have to face her parents at all, but facing them with three day old mom hair would have been worse. As it was, the pregnancy hormones were making her weird, and Olivia had been slightly grateful she had not wanted to puke all day. Enough so that when Slade had asked if they could have sex she had been on board--excited even, because they hadn't since they found out she was pregnant almost a month ago.
Jan wasn’t angry. Angry wasn’t wordy enough for how she felt right now. She was livid—she was pissed—she was—
HOW COULD TONI KEEP SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM HERE? Thought Jan. she was just getting over finding out that Toni was Iron Man during a press conference, and come to find out that Toni had been harboring Captain America. How long had Toni been harboring Captain America? Why couldn’t she just trust her best friend with a freaking piece of information now and then?
“Jan?” Steve asked.
They had sped out of the parking garage during her angry, inner monologue and were now cruising down the street at five over the speed limit. Jan might have been vexed, but she was not getting a speeding ticket because of Toni Stark (and if she was, Toni was paying the fine).
“Yes, Steve?” Jan asked, eyes on the road and in her mirror looking for cops.
“Are you okay?”
A quick look in his direction revealed Steve’s big blue eyes wider than normal.
Jan deflated. Stick a pin in her—she couldn’t manage being that irate, that intensely, that long. “I just…Toni used to tell me everything. Not that you being Captain America was her thing to tell!” As the words spilled out of her mouth to reassure Steve, Jan realized that she meant them. More than that, it was the absolute truth. Steve’s secrets hadn’t been Toni’s to tell.
“You’re worried that the two of you are growing apart,” said Steve, as he looked down at his hands.
“Yes,” said Jan. She kept her eyes on the road, but she desperately wished that she had her own way out of focusing on the conversation. “I’m sorry, teenage angst bullshit is the last thing you need right now. You have your own stuff going on in your head, you don’t need mine.”
Steve smiled at her. “Your teenage angst bullshit is actually kind of refreshing from my own troubles, so no worries there. I was actually just thinking about Bucky and I. I was wondering: if Bucky and I had lived through the war and come home, might we have grown apart? And…well, how amazing it might have been to even have that chance.”
“You put that into an interesting perspective,” said Jan, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Toni and I are lucky to even have the chance to grow apart, but it doesn’t change the fact that I miss my best friend. I know I can’t blame her for it, and I don’t, I really don’t, but she hasn’t been the same since she came home from—” Jan bit her lip as she cut herself off. She glanced over to Steve who had leaned forward to hear what she had to say. “Sorry, now I’m about to spill Toni’s secrets.”
“We should probably leave those for her to tell,” said Steve with a nod. But he stared at the space just passed Jan’s shoulder for a minute, even as he said it. “Anyway, have you talked to Toni about how you feel? Because I don’t know how it normally works between you two, but with me and Buck, nothing ever got worked out until we had some words.”
“‘Have some words.’ Like we eat soup with words in it—actually that’s a thing.”
“It is?”
“They make noodles in the shape of letters and call it ‘alphabet soup,’” said Jan. She slowed to a stop as they hit some traffic. “But where do I even begin?” she asked turning to him.
“That’s up to you and Toni,” said Steve. “With me and Bucky, something was usually slammed or broken, but I don’t recommend that.”
Jan nodded, eyes focused back on the road as the cars began moving. Just talk to Toni. Talk to Toni later after SHIELD wasn’t here breathing down their neck. She could do that—she and Toni could literally talk about everything under the sun, why shouldn’t they be able to talk about Jan’s feelings? And she really shouldn’t be too angry about Toni not telling her about Steve. If Jan were Steve, recently back from the dead, Jan wouldn’t want Toni talking about it either. Actually, Jan had to admire Toni’s resolve. Usually she had to tell someone a secret she knew. It was usually Jan, but sometimes Toni told—
“OH MY GOD!” Jan hit her breaks just a little too hard, and she and Steve vaulted forward. The car behind them honked, but nothing rammed into her bumper. As Jan edged forward into another standstill, she turned to Steve and asked, “Did Pepper know about you?”
Steve studied her face for a good few seconds before he answered, “No.”
Jan grumbled, as she tapped the accelerator. “Captain America is a lying liar who lies. History teaches us nothing, once again.”
Steve snorted and turned away, trying to reign himself in. Jan saw in the reflection of his window Steve couldn’t contain his smile. Well, at least she could still make people laugh, even if they didn’t always confide in her.
Jan focused on the road as the traffic cleared. She made it to Stark Tower in excellent time.
Toni arrived at the Tower before anyone else and wanted to pull her hair out. Fortunately, Pepper, the goddess among all mere mortals and other beings who walked the earth, had either foreseen her plight or been texted by Agent Agent, and had sent food ahead. Pepper deserved a bonus. Pepper deserved for Toni to get her f’ing life together so Pepper didn’t have to play personal assistant as well as CEO.
So Toni had the delivery kid take the food into the living room, and leave it on the mini table there. She thought it best to avoid her actual dining table as there was still a chunk missing out of it.
She was spreading out the food when Jarvis announced, “Agents Coulson, Romanoff and Barton have arrived, Ms. Stark. Shall I let them up the elevator?”
“I suppose we must, go ahead, J.” Toni got to her feet and met them at the elevator when it opened.
“Ms. Stark,” said Coulson. He was holding a large bottle of Arizona Tea. “We brought the beverages since Pepper said that you would be kind enough to provide us lunch.”
Romanoff carried two bottles of cola, one in each arm, and Barton had three bottles, juice and cola, which he quite literally juggled.
“Thank you,” said Toni, remembering her mother’s lessons on etiquette. “Won’t you please come inside?”
Coulson waited until she was finished to cross the threshold, like the suspicious person that he was, and waited for a moment. Toni realized he was waiting on her, and so turned and led them into her living room. Barton was the first to pick at the food—as soon as he had set down his drinks he was on it in an instance. Coulson slapped his hand away.
“Ow!”
“Barton, help Ms. Stark get silverware and glasses.”
“I should probably help too,” said Romanoff. “I don’t think Clint could handle… well he probably couldn’t handle glasses.”
“Rude,” said Barton as he rose to his feet again.
Toni noted, as she walked back toward the kitchen, how well Barton and Romanoff obeyed Coulson. It was like he was their dad or something. But Coulson was like, thirty, and Romanoff and Barton were her age (roughly speaking that is. Toni felt confident that Romanoff was older, and Barton had to be younger than them—there was no way he acted this immature out of anything other than impetuous youth).
Romanoff balanced four glasses, leaving Toni the last two and Barton to get the silverware. Barton, at the very least, had the presence of mind to handle the silverware by the right end, and not juggle the pieces as he had the drinks. They followed Toni back into the dining room like ducklings (and my, that was an odd picture), just as JARVIS announced that Steve and Jan had returned.
“What happened to your friend, James?” Jan asked, taking his arm to walk down the promenade.
What had happened to Bucky, Steve wondered. Had they ever found him like they had found Steve? Had he woken up in another recovery room in New York? Or somewhere else? “I don’t know for sure,” said Steve with a hard swallow. “But he was presumed KIA.”
Jan said nothing at that, but rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry that he’s not here with us.” There was nothing more than that—no overly sympathetic statements or false hope. Just a small piece of regret that Steve had felt since Bucky had fallen.
“Thank you,” said Steve. “It was some time ago, so I’m getting used to the idea, but…”
“Things aren’t the same without him, I understand,” she said with a nod. “Tell me more about him, and point out a shop you want to go in when you see one.”
Steve was perfectly content to talk about Bucky and how they had grown up together. He also saw nothing wrong with just owning four sets of clothes, but from what Tony told him, that was not how things were done these days. But he also knew nothing about shopping these days or what the fashion was, so he said, “I’m happy to tell stories, but I’m a little hopeless when it comes to shopping, so you might have to lead the way on that front.”
Jan grinned and tugged him along.
She kept him talking as they went into a few stores. Steve insisted that he didn’t want to abuse Tony’s hospitality, so he wouldn’t be buying too much today. He and Jan had different definitions of too much. It seemed like every store they went into, they came out with a large bag full of clothing. Many stories were for both sexes as well, so Jan bought a few things here and there for herself. But mostly, she made Steve try things on to see how they looked. If they passed Jan’s inspection, and Steve liked them, they were bought.
They were nearing the end of the promenade when Steve saw a store that he was really interested in. The shops were mostly clothes related. But a few had been about other things—a bookstore, a candy shop, a store full of electronic devices. Toward the end of the promenade was a store just full to bursting of art supplies.
“Can we go in there?” Steve asked, pointing it out to Jan.
“Sure,” she said. “And then we have got to stop for lunch, because I think I’ve outdone myself.”
Steve smiled at her and agreed. As they looked through the various art supplies, Steve eventually settling on a packet of colored pencils, some oil pastels, paper, a package of ganesha paints and the brushes to go with them, he couldn’t help but think that for his second day in the future, things weren’t turning out so bad.
This was, of course, before the SHIELD agents got the drop on them during lunch.
He and Jan walked back to the car arm in arm, happy with the morning’s progress. Jan asked if he wouldn’t mind trying a café near Stark Industries so Toni could join them for lunch and maybe bring Pepper with her. “Pep works really hard, so occasionally she lets us treat her to lunch.”
“Sure,” said Steve.
Before they get going, Jan texted Toni to let her know where they would be going. Steve didn’t quite know what texting was, but it seemed like it was sort of like sending a telegraph through the phone, and it was received much more quickly. He liked the idea of texting—it must have made communicating so much easier.
They drove to the café, though they had to park in a garage a few blocks away. Steve didn’t mind—as he liked getting out in the air and just taking his time. Jan engaged him about any old thing like, what was his plan now that he was out of the army.
“How’d you know I was in the army?” he asked.
Jan shrugged. “Just the way you talked about some things, I took a wild guess. Plans?”
Steve had no idea—maybe go back to school if he could manage it.
“Toni’s good about helping with things like that,” said Jan, as she nodded. “She started a whole new scholarship through her mother’s foundation just for veterans, for them to either get a technical or a collegiate education.”
“Really?” Steve asked. “You know what I’d really like to do?”
“What’s that?”
“I’d love to be an art teacher—maybe older kids or even little ones. Just show them that they can express themselves in so many different ways, you know?”
“That’s great!” said Jan. “And not be cliché or anything, but you really can do anything that you want, Steve. Toni will definitely be there to help you any step of the way that you need.”
They get to the café in a short time. Jan asked for a table for four. She really is a master of conversation, Steve thought as they looked through their menus. Never an awkward pause, never a touchy topic of conversation. Jan’s excellent at reading people.
It’s not until after they order that the SHIELD agent approached.
“Captain Rogers,” he said without delay, taking a seat at their table.
Jan must have seen the way Steve tensed, because she turned to the man and said, “Excuse you, but that seat is taken by someone else. Leave now.”
“Ms. Van Dyne, this does not concern you,” said the agent. “I would remove yourself from the situation before my tactical team arrives.”
“Oh you’re a SHIELD lunk, are you?” she asked.
The Agent turned and stared at her, opening his mouth, but Jan beat him to the punch. “Oh please,” she said. “The Van Dynes might not hold as much sway as the Starks, but we fund enough to know about SHIELD. And if Steve is staying with Toni that means that she’s probably worked something out with your director, which means you are overstepping your bounds. Leave.”
The SHIELD agent looked Jan right in the eye. Jan didn’t back down. “Well, Ms. Van Dyne, do you know what it takes to get a tactical team approved? Any offensive act must be cleared by a senior agent, all of whom are direct reports to Director Fury. I have one waiting on standby. My recommendation to take cover still stands. Captain Rogers,” the Agent turned to him, “if you come with me, there will be no need for me to use that tactical team.”
Steve steeled himself and looked around. There were certain folks in the café, even those across the street or loitering around the newsstand nearby. They all had the sort of rigid posture he recognized in other soldiers. But as he looked around, he saw a man in a suit strolling toward them—sun glasses on, and gun holstered under his jacket. This one had a different sort of posture. “You’re really willing to hurt all sorts of people just to get at me?” Steve asked.
“People don’t have to get hurt,” said the SHIELD agent. “If you just come with us.”
“I understand,” said Steve, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But I just want you to take a good look at the ultimatum you’re offering me. Implying that you don’t care if others get hurt just to get to someone, just to complete a mission, isn’t a good path to walk down.”
The SHIELD agent only rolled his eyes. “Save the morality speech. You are the one who went AWOL.”
“You’re not the military, and I went down defending my country and the world,” said Steve, as he stood. “And I already said, do what you need to. I’m not going to be the cause of innocent people getting hurt.”
The man in the sunglasses had arrived, and to Steve’s absolute surprise, he said, “That won’t be necessary, Captain.” And then he pointed his gun at the SHIELD Agent’s head. “Stand down, Agent Sitwell, you are in violations of direct orders from Director Fury.”
“Fucking called it,” said Jan.
“Yes you did, Ms. Van Dyne,” said the new agent.
“Fucking hell, Coulson,” said Agent Sitwell, his hands raised. “You can’t just come in here and reverse a tactical strike.”
“I can, and I am,” said Coulson, with a small shrug. “I’d really like not to shoot you, Jasper. So radio to cancel the strike and I can take you into custody to Director Fury. And then we can talk about what the World Council is going to do to you when—”
“The council’s the one who gave these orders,” Sitwell hissed. “They don’t want Captain America to be seen as a danger to the public—as a madman who goes and puts people in danger.”
Coulson only shrugged again, and Jan looked at Steve with open mouth shock. “He looks fine to me. Cancel the strike, Jasper. Or you can talk to the Widow and the Hawk about it. Or Iron Man’s almost here, you can talk to her.”
As he said the word widow a woman with blood red hair took the last seat at their table and gave Sitwell a nice smile. “Hi, Jasper.”
And that was all it took. The man touched something in his ear and spoke in a normal tone of voice. “All points, stand down, wait for extraction by other SHIELD agents.”
All of the men and women Steve had seen before relaxed visibly. Coulson holstered his gun, though made no move to restrain Sitwell. “See, Jasper, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Just as Coulson spoke, what Steve could only describe as a robot flew down from above and landed in the street. The robot was red and gold, and a faceplate opened to reveal Toni Stark inside. “Jesus fuck, what happened here?” she asked.
“It’s handled, Ms. Stark, though I’m glad you could join us,” said Coulson. “You suggested, last night to Director Fury that he needed to compromise. I was going to drop by the tower later to talk terms, but seeing as you’re already here.”
“Of course Nick sent Agent Agent to get on my case.” Tony did something and the robot—the armor—she wore began stripping off of her. It folded itself neatly into a suitcase, and Toni stood before them wearing a soft looking black long sleeved blouse and trousers. Her hair, still pinned back in the bun, looked slightly messier now. “Fine, but no business until after lunch. Steve, Jan I hope you haven’t ordered, because I get the feeling we’re about to be asked to leave.”
“We were still deciding,” said Jan as she rose from her seat. She took out her wallet, but unlike all the other times she had paid for something that day, she pulled out cash and handed the terrified waitress behind her a one-hundred dollar bill. “Sorry for the trouble,” she said and the waitress briefly nodded. “Toni, Steve and I parked the car in a garage down this way. I assume, Agent Coulson, that you can meet us back at Stark Tower?”
“Us, Ms. Van Dyne?” Agent Coulson asked, eye brow quirking over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Yeah, if you think I’m butting out of this you clearly didn’t do your research,” said Jan. “Toni, it’s fine if they meet us back at the tower, right?”
“I’d prefer my territory to theirs so yes.”
“The you and whoever else can meet us at Stark Tower,” said Jan. she reached out and took Steve by the arm again leading him away. “Toni, you need to fly or catch a ride with Agent Coulson here I have too much shit in my car.”
But even as Jan led him away, Steve could ell she was angry with Toni over something.
Toni looked over her shoulder to where Jan was standing in the threshold of the entertainment room. She stuck out her tongue
Jan only grinned at her. “So, who’s the mystery man, who’s tall and broad shouldered?”
Toni slipped off the back of the coach and straightened her skirt. “For now, let’s say that he’s a friend who needed my help and needs to remain anonymous. And thank you, for going out to get that, I didn’t want to leave him by himself.” She had crossed the room to where Jan stood. Toni took the packet of clothes from Jan’s outstretched arms.
“Never a problem for me to go shopping,” said Jan, taking Toni by the arm. “Are we up for a little Netflix or shall I leave you be the night before the big board meeting?”
Toni rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly a big board meeting—just a progress report really. And as long as you don’t mind if I get pulled away sometimes I don’t see why we can’t do a little be of binge watching. Just let me give Steve his clothes, and I’ll meet you in the media room.”
“Shall do,” said Jan. She smiled at Toni as they split off in the hallway, Jan heading toward Toni’s room, and Toni headed toward Steve’s room.
The door to the bed room was open as was the door to the bathroom. Toni still gave a knock on the bedroom door before she poked her head in. “Steve?” she asked. “Steve can I come in?”
Toni heard a small gasp and water sloshing around in the bath. “Just a second, Toni,” he called back after a moment.
“Ok,” she said. Toni pulled the main bedroom door shut—she had a feeling Steve might be a little startled if he saw her just standing there. Steve took another minute or two but then he opened his door wearing the shield issue tee-shirt and pants. “Hi,” she said.
“Evening,” he replied.
“My friend Jan went out and bought you some clothes,” said Toni presenting him with the two bags Jan had given her. “She got you some essentials and after my board meeting tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we can go out and get you some other things.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve said, but he took the bags. He looked inside and his eyes went wide. “There’s at least four sets of clothes in here! And pajamas!”
Toni saw no problem with this. When she had had her first major growth spurt, her mother had taken her out and gotten her at least twenty different outfits. Then again, Steve had grown up during the great depression, and then during a time when people did have fewer sets of clothes. “It’s okay,” she said. “A lot of clothes are mass produced now, so they’re much cheaper and more readily available.”
“Oh,” said Steve. “So department stores are more common?”
“Much more common,” said Toni with a nod. “And if you don’t want to go shopping tomorrow, we can just go out and tour the city. Or we can stay in or do whatever you want.”
Steve smiled at her, and Toni’s stomach fluttered the same way that it did when Jan smiled at her. “Thank you, Toni. You’re being real swell about this.”
“I try to be as swell as I can,” said Toni, trying to match his grin. “And Jan’s staying for a little bit, so if you want to come watch movies with us, you’re welcome to.”
“You can watch movies at home now?” Steve asked. At Toni’s nod, his smile widened. “I think I’m going to like the future.”
“You want a minute to finish drying off and change?” Toni asked. “I can wait to show you to the media room?” As she said it, she was glad that she had told Jan to go there instead of her bedroom where they watched movies together when they were in Malibu. She didn’t think Steve could handle being in a woman’s bedroom—at least not during his first night after waking up in 2012.
“Yes, alright,” he said, nodding emphatically. “Give me a moment.” Steve closed the door, though not all the way. Toni waited twiddling her thumbs as he began to change.
Don’t you dare look through that crack, Toni thought to herself as she raised her head. Steve had already put on a pair of boxers and was slipping on a pair of khaki colored jeans Jan had bought for him. He looked good—body taut and rippling with muscle—not like a body builder, not even like many athletes with a similar build to Steve. Toni had to remind herself that Steve was only twenty-one. Over the next decade of his life, he would probably become broader, be able to put on more muscle. But right now his body still held a slight slenderness to it, where every muscle had a purpose, nothing was over worked.
Toni jumped as Steve turned with shirt in hand, catching her eye. She rolled so that her back was against the wall and covered her face in her hands as it grew bright red.
She heard the door open and peaked out through her hands as Steve leaned on the frame. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to linger in doorways?” he asked, but there was a grin on his face. “Or did you father teach you that that’s the best way to collect scientific data?”
“I’m sorry,” said Toni from behind her hands. “I swear I wasn’t spying.”
“Just getting an eyeful?” Steve asked, wriggling his eyebrows at her.
“Oh my God,” she said, covering her eyes again.
Steve only laughed—not a mean laugh just a chuckle. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” said Toni, pulling her hands from her face. It still felt like she was red, but she managed to look him in the eye. “Shall we go watch some films?”
Steve stepped out of the door way and offered her his arm. “Lead the way.”
Toni took his arm and willed herself to return to a normal color. It didn’t work, because when she entered the media room, Jan looked up from the tablet and asked, “Toni why is your face so red?”
“She got an eyeful is all,” said Steve.
Jan looked Steve up and down before she turned back to Toni. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t really even see anything!” Toni protested.
“You saw enough to make you blush,” said Jan, jumping up from her seat. “Toni Stark’s a peeping tammy—I’m posting that to the internet, don’t you think I won’t!”
“I think you won’t if you don’t want the entire scientific community to know your deepest darkest secret.” Toni raised a single eye brow as she watched Jan’s jaw drop.
“You wouldn’t dare,” said Jan.
“I would too,” said Toni. “Don’t think I wouldn’t,” she said, mimicking her friend.
Jan flopped back down on the coach, sticking out her tongue.
Steve laughed. “Toni, will you introduce us?”
“Oh, if you insist,” said Toni. “Jan this is Steve, Steve this is Janet.”
“Call me ‘Jan,’ Steve,” she said. “Are you watching movies with us?”
“No, I’m just in the habit of escorting women who peep on me.”
Toni went red again despite herself.
Steve only grinned. “I’d be delighted to join you ladies, if you’d let me.”
Jan patted the couch, eyes going back to the tablet. “Pop a squat, you’re the guest, so you get to pick first.”
Steve’s grin fell off his face. Toni was pretty sure it fell off the face of the planet. “I don’t really know what’s playing…”
“That’s okay,” said Jan, looking up. “Toni has Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime. I’m pretty sure she has things that are still in theaters. And there’s older stuff too.”
“Maybe something in black and white?” Toni suggested, as she flopped next to Jan, pulling Steve along with her. “You like the older movies, right Steve? Have you ever seen Sabrina?”
“Ah, no,” said Steve. “But really, I’m fine if you want to watch it.”
Jan looked between the two of them for a moment, lips drawn to a pout. “Seriously Steve, you can pick a movie. As long as nobody’s head gets chopped off or someone’s forced to run their eyeball into a nail,” here she paused to glare at Toni, “I am down for whatever.”
Steve wondered what watching movies had to do with keeping secrets, but figured the turn of phrase must have changed. He also realized Jan was not going to let it go. “Ah, how about The Wizard of Oz, then?”
To his surprise and relief, Jan lit up. “OMG, yes!” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen that since I was a kid.” Jan used her thumbs and hit something on the screen to bring up a keyboard. She typed directly onto it, and her words appeared in a box with a little spyglass next to it. She pressed a box on the keyboard with the word “Enter” on it, and a tiny movie poster came up on the screen. She pressed her finger against the movie poster and then brought up other symbols on one side of the screen so that a projector light went on, and after a moment it began the opening reel for The Wizard of Oz.
Steve watched and tried to keep his jaw hinged in place as it all took place. Suddenly he was in Kansas, watching Dorothy on her farm. Jan didn’t seem to notice his odd feelings, but Toni placed a hand on his and squeezed. When she went to move it away he squeezed back to keep her in place.
Jan paused the movie as Dorothy relaxed against a hay bale and the music swelled. “Steve, how do you feel about singing along with movies?”
“Fine?” said Steve. He knew most folks found it annoying when people talked during movies, but he had never heard of someone singing along.
“Has Toni ever sung for you before?” Jan asked, a grin adorning her face. “If not you totally need to ask, right now, partly on my behalf for Toni to sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’”
Toni only rolled her eyes and got to her feet. She stood next to the projection, and Jan squealed, hitting a button that made the word [MUTE] next to another unfamiliar symbol appeared on the screen. As she hit play, Toni began to sing.
Steve had first seen the Wizard of Oz when it premiered—he had been fifteen, and he had thought that he had never heard someone sing so swell as Judy Garland. He remembered that feeling now, as he watched Tony screen, her face only slightly illuminated by the glow of the screen. It only was for a minute or so, but he wondered what else Toni Stark had up her sleeve. Haven knew, she hadn’t learned that all from Howard. When she finished with a final trill, Steve clapped, Jan joining him after a moment.
Toni did a little curtsey, sliding onto her seat next to Steve, feeling her cheeks flush again.
The three of them watched The Wizard of Oz and then started a TV show that Jan had been begging Toni to watch. They got through two episodes before Jan declared that Toni should go to sleep because she had a board meeting to get up for in the morning. Toni rolled her eyes, but sadly had to agree.
“I think I’ll stay here for a little while,” said Steve. “That is if you don’t mind. I took a nap in the tub earlier, and I’m not really tired.”
Jan handed him the tablet and made noises about going to the bathroom.
“Will you be okay?” Toni asked, making sure to keep her voice down even though Jan was out of earshot.
“I’ll be fine.” Steve tried to grin at her, but it was nothing like the face he had made earlier when he caught her outside his room. “Do you have an encyclopedia that I could read, or some history books?”
Toni frowned, but took the tablet. “You can read on here, or keep it up on the projector, but here—in this bar right here you can type in different places you want to go on the internet.” She typed in the address for Wikipedia. “This is a public edited encyclopedia so you may encounter more bias than you normally might, and some of the information is inaccurate, but it’s a good jumping off point and a little easier to navigate than some other online encyclopedias.”
She held it out for him to see. Toni clicked the box with the hour glass, and said, “Type whatever you want to know in here, and then you’ll be able to access whatever the encyclopedia says. Just…search with caution, I guess? A lot’s happened in the last few decades.”
Steve took her hand and squeezed it, like she had earlier that night. “I’ll be alright, Toni.”
Toni frowned, but nodded. “Okay, well Jarvis is hooked up to every computer interphase in the tower so if you need any help bringing anything up ask him and he will help. I really do kinda need to go to bed now, and I’ve had almost zero coffee today, so I’m wiped.”
“That means tired?” Steve asked.
“That means tired.” Despite the situation, Toni laughed. She sobered for a moment. “Listen, for real though, Jarvis will help you with anything you need, but—no offense Jarvis—if you need anything for a more human touch, just come and get me. Don’t worry about waking me up, okay? Just stand a few feet back while you do, because I tend to nail people with whatever I’m holding at the time, so it could be a pillow—it could be an alarm clock or a lamp or a phone.”
“Nail people means hit them?” Steve asked.
“In this context, yes,” said Toni.
“Then I will make sure to keep back, if I have to wake you,” said Steve. He smiled at her again, a little closer to his earlier grin. “I’ll be fine, Toni. Go get some sleep.”
Toni was loathe to leave him, especially when she knew fine did not mean he was fine. But she also knew that some people needed their space sometimes. So she gave Steve’s hand one last squeeze and slid off the coach to go find Jan.
When the elevator doors closed, Steve knew he had made a mistake. The eight foot by eight foot room seemed to only grow smaller as it sped upward—Steve needed to get out, Steve needed to be in an open space, Steve needed and exit now—
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Toni stepped out still calm, cool and collected, and a voice spoke out of thin air, “Welcome back, Ms. Stark and Captain Rogers.”
“Thank you Jarvis,” said Toni, acting as if a voice talking out of thin air was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn’t for Toni. “Where’s Pepper, Jarvis?”
“Ms. Potts is in the dinning room,” said Jarvis, from wherever he was. “The food only arrived momentarily, so it will still be warm.”
“Excellent,” said Toni, as she walked through the large—well it looked like what Steve imagined to be a penthouse to be. He had never been in a penthouse suite before, but really, it was like a giant apartment. Steve followed Toni around the large place, through a hall that lead out into an open room with a bar, a seating area and in the far corner a dining room table which was sectioned off on its own. A red haired woman sat eating with some sort of…flat book in her hand. “Hey Pep,” said Toni as the entered the room.
The woman, this must be Pepper Potts thought Steve, looked up at Toni. “You’re late.”
Toni only shrugged, taking off her pumps as she cross the room. “Had a fight with Nick, and then there was traffic. This is Steve, by the way; Steve this is Pepper Potts, former PA extraordinaire and now CEO extraordinaire.”
Pepper waved at him, “Hi Steve, nice to meet you. Sorry this is Tony’s idea of a first date.”
“Oh, it’s not,” said Steve, looking down at his boots. Should he take them off? He didn’t want to ruin Toni’s carpet or commit some faux paus of the future. But Miss Potts was wearing her shoes, so… “She’s uh,” when Steve looked up Pepper was squinting at him, looking him up and down. “Toni’s just doing me a favor, letting me lay low with her for a little while.”
“He had a fight with Nick too—oh speak of the devil.” Toni’s phone was ringing. “Steve come eat. Don’t worry about your shoes, and I won’t tell him where you are.”
Steve just stared at her.
“He could trace the call,” said Pepper.
“Oh you of little faith,” said Toni, pressing different parts of her phone. “Steve, do you want me to put it on speaker phone? So you can listen too?”
Steve didn’t know what speaker phone meant, but he could guess. He nodded slowly as he walked toward the two woman.
Tony answered the phone and placed it on the table. “Hi, Nick, you’re on speaker.”
“Where the hell are you, and why can’t we track you?” Nick Fury asked.
“Guess and because I don’t want you to,” said Toni. “Listen, Nick, everything is fine. Cap’s fine, I’m fine, we’re both calming down. When Steve’s ready to talk, we’ll give you a call.”
“And how exactly do you expect me to explain loosing America’s greatest soldier?”
“I thought I wasn’t being kept prisoner,” said Steve, leaning over the phone. “Or have the laws really changed that much in the past 67 years?”
Nick Fury went silent at that remark. Pepper’s eyes had gone wide, and she was staring intently at Steve. “Toni Stark,” she said, looking over at Toni. “I am going to murder you in your sleep.”
“Duly noted,” said Toni, though she seemed very unconcerned about Pepper’s threat. “Listen, Nick, we need a compromise here. Better that you loose Captain America for a little while than forever right? Steve, how long do you need before you’re willing to talk to SHIELD on any kind of neutral ground?”
Steve swallowed as Toni looked up at him expectantly. “I…I have no idea. I just woke up in the future.” Steve’s head started spinning, and he gripped the edge of the table so hard it broke off in his hands. He could hear Toni calling his name as he stumbled away, the chunk of the table he had torn off still in his hands. Everything sounded…blurry though, like he was listening under water. He was still stumbling back until he hit something and tripped back. It was a couch, and the force of his fall was enough to make it rock back and forth for a moment on its legs.
Toni knelt in front of him and he still couldn’t hear her but her lips were moving. She was saying about breathing—breathing with her. To demonstrate Toni took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before she breathed out. Steve tried to mimic her as best he could—but he couldn’t breathe in or out or hold his breath as long as Toni could.
“You’re doing great,” she said after a time, and he could actually hear her. “Breathe in, hold and out.”
“What’s happening?” he asked, the words coming out as a stutter and chocking him on every other syllable.
“You’re having a panic attack,” said Toni. “Deep breath again.”
Steve had only had this happen to him once before. That time, he had passed out, gasping for breath. Toni seemed to know what she was doing though, because Steve’s vision was starting to clear, he could hear better, and he had yet to pass out. He thought maybe he could speak, so tired again. “Why is this happening?”
“I overwhelmed you,” said Toni. “And well, PTSD can kick your ass on occasion, believe me I know.”
“PTSD?” he asked, still breathing deep.
“Post traumatic stress disorder,” said Toni. She was still breathing deep too, so he could have someone to mimic. “Basically, when you are experiencing something traumatic your brain can’t always process it in the moment, sometimes, because it interrupts other survival instincts. So later on, when you’re not in danger anymore, your brain can experience the trauma that it couldn’t before. Sometimes at seemingly random intervals, sometimes it can be just small things that set you off. I’m the sort of person who goes full steam ahead to avoid that sort of reaction—sometimes I forget that other people don’t deal with their stress the same way I do.”
“What about Fury?” Steve asked. He sniffed a little, trying to hold back tears—he hadn’t cried since he was ten and didn’t intend to start now.
“Pepper hung up on him,” Tony said with a small shrug. “We’ll have to talk to him eventually, but eventually doesn’t have to be now.” Toni looked up and over his shoulder and mouthed the words, “thank you.”
Steve turned to see Pepper holding a glass of water. She gave him a shaky smile. “Sorry I didn’t want to disturb you. But I brought you some water to help calm you down.” She set it down on the side table for him. “Do you need anything else, Steve?”
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry—I interrupted your meal.”
Pepper waved him off. “It’ll reheat. When you’re feeling hungry, Toni can show you how to use the microwave. Are you sure that you two will be alright? I was going head out now.”
“We’ll manage, Pep. I’ll see you for the board meeting tomorrow?”
Pepper nodded. “Ten sharp, Toni.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said, giving Pepper a winning smile.
Pepper strode from the room, until Steve could no longer twist to watch her go. He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand. He still had a part of the wood table in his hand. “Oh,” he said.
“Do you, uh, want me to take that?” Toni asked.
“Sorry,” said Steve, holding it out to her.
“It’s no trouble,” said Toni, taking it from him. She wrinkled her forehead though as she looked at it. “Though, you know, I have no idea what to do with this.”
Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “What do you do with a broken table anyway?” he said. “It’ll hardly fit in the waste basket. “
Toni smiled again, that winning smile she had given Pepper. “It probably would not. I’ll ask building management about it in the morning. In the meantime do you think a shower would make you feel better?”
“Maybe,” said Steve. “I don’t think it will hurt to try.”
“Excellent,” said Tony. She rose to her feet. “Follow me, Cap.”
And Steve followed.
Steve had no idea where Tony was going to lead him next. It turned out to be to another hallway just off of the living space where there were a series of bedrooms. Toni took him to one that had the largest bed Steve had ever seen as well as many other pieces of furniture and a door that led to a whole different bathroom. Steve had never seen anything like it. Welcome to the future, he thought.
“Ah, so, you probably know how to work a bathtub,” said Toni, gesturing to a large tub in the bathroom. Unlike the car, Steve thought he could fit quite comfortably in the tub. “The shower, though, is a little more complicated.”
“There are no knobs.” Steve stared into the shower, which was contained by a glass cube and not a curtain. There appeared to be a small movie screen fitted into the wall with the tile, and Steve wondered at the purpose of that—did people really watch movies in the shower? “You can show me this later, I think I’d like a bath better anyway,” said Steve. “I haven’t had a proper bath, since, well, since before I went overseas.”
“Alright then,” said Toni with a curt nod. “I’ll leave you to it and see about getting you some other clothes. Oh! And ask Jarvis if you need anything.”
“Who is Jarvis?” Steve asked.
“That would be me, sir,” said the voice from nowhere. Steve whirled around looking for someone, but Tony just reached out to steady him.
“Sorry—I swear I will stop forgetting that you are from 1944. Jarvis stands for Just a Rather Very Intelligent System. He’s an artificial intelligence.”
“He’s not real?” Steve asked, puzzling out the phrase “artificial intelligence.”
“He is real,” Tony assured him. “He’s just not human. Think of him like an automaton. He’s able to understand and think just like us, but he’s not flesh and blood.”
“Oh,” said Steve. He looked around the bathroom one more time before he asked, in a low voice, “JARVIS can’t watch me bathe, can he?”
“No, sir, I cannot,” said JARVIS.
“Oh,” said Steve, again. “Okay, well, like you said, I know how to use a bathtub.”
“Right,” said Tony. “You take your time, and I’ll see about getting you some clothes.”
“Okay then.”
Tony backed out of the room, and then she was gone.
Steve was really, truly alone since the first time he had woken up earlier that day.
He felt like he was going to have another panic attack. What Toni had said about going full speed ahead resonated back in his mind—he reached out and turned on the tap for the bath tub. Water gushed forth ice cold. Steve spent the next minute adjusting the taps until the water was the right temperature. After making sure that there were towels, he stripped out of his clothing and folded it up. There was no bench or anywhere to really set them but the sink, so Steve left them there and stepped into the bath.
The water was hot, but not scalding and it felt amazing to sink into. Steve hadn’t realized how sore and tense he had been until the hot water made all of his muscles relax. Within minutes it became difficult to keep his eyes open and he drifted off to sleep.
Tony kept looking up from the board meeting notes that Pepper had prepared for her. It seemed fairly simple enough; she was just going to be demonstrating some of the new developments that they had been making with R&D. She wouldn’t be the only one in fact, which only lent to its simplicity.
“Ms. Van Dyne has arrived,” JARVIS announced.
Toni tossed the tablet down into the couch cushions. “I thought you’d never say that. Remind me where that tablet is tomorrow.”
“You may wish to turn it off, Ms. Stark.”
Toni paused and leaned back over the couch to hit the power button on the tablet. She ended up having to lean over further than she would have liked, pushing off the floor and balancing on the back of her couch. Tony could feel her skirt ride up as she managed to hold down the power button and watched the tablet screen turn off.
“Whoa, there Tony! I thought I came for a fashion emergency, not a show!”
Toni looked over her shoulder to where Jan was standing in the threshold of the entertainment room.
Steven wakes in a room that is too quiet. Oh sure, the radio is on, but if whoever put him there expects him to believe he's in any kind of city (New York always made noise, Paris and London had been similar if not exactly the same), or any kind of country hospital (where he knew for a fact there were always one or two goddammed birds whistling at every time of day) they are dead wrong. His body feels a little stiff as he lifts himself from the bed to cross to the window.
Whoever placed him there also needed to work on faking their bedside manner--no hospital he knew of would abide by leaving him on top of the blankets with an undershirt, trousers and boots on.
The window, in addition to no authentic sounds, had no natural air flow. There seemed to be a single stream of air pumping into the room through the sill, but no wind, no natural current. Steve was just tuning in on the game when the door opened.
A woman entered, a little older than him. She wore dark lipstick and her hair was loose around her shoulders--Steve had never seen a woman with her hair loose when she wasn't about to go sleep or when she hadn't just awoken. Her clothes were all wrong too--so many things wrong with her clothes (were German or Russian fashions so different from American ones?). "Good morning," she said. With a cursory glance at her watch she added, "or should I say afternoon?"
"Where am I?" Steve asked.
"You're in a recovery room, in New York," she said.
"No, I'm not," said Steve. "Where am I really?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand," said the woman. But even as she spoke, she had something in her right hand that she pressed. A weapon? No, for a moment later armed men burst into the room—some kind of radio then. Steve did the only thing he could think of and threw a few of them in the general direction of the window.
They tore through the wall like it was paper—and as Steve ran through it that was all it seemed to be. Whoever was running this op needed some more training. Steve ran down the hall ways of the unfamiliar building searching for a way out—a way to anywhere but here. He made it as far as the lobby when there were armed men and women pouring in from all points and barricading the only exit Steve could see.
In the middle of the lobby stood a young woman in front of a tall man with an eyepatch. They were arguing. For a moment they seemed oblivious for a moment as all of this was happening. The man was the first to notice the people streaming in from all points and the shouts of, “Director Fury.” The woman wasn’t slow on the uptick either, looking around just seconds later, but not fast enough for her to avoid Steve. He grabbed the gun from the hands of a nearby agent, wrapped his arms around her and pointed it to his head.
This tactic had only ever worked once before—but then again Steve had only tried this tactic once before, so the odds were slightly in his favor. The woman gasped as the barrel of the gun touched her head, and brought her hands up to the arm he had firmly round her shoulders. “Fuck no, not again,” she said. “Nick—”
Nick—the man with the eyepatch—the one everyone was calling Director Fury—had his gun trained on Steve the very second after Steve had snatched the woman. “Let her go, Captain,” he ordered. He had the tone of voice of someone who was clearly used to giving orders.
Steven had never had any trouble disregarding those people before, and why should he stop now? “You were holding me prisoner, and now your people have barred my exit. I’ll let her go when I can go my own way.”
“Captain, there’s been a misunderstanding,” said the man with the eye patch. “Nobody is holding you prisoner.”
"If no one is holding me prisoner," said Steve the barrel of the gun still firmly pressed to the young woman's head. "If no one is holding me prisoner,” Steve said again, "then stand down, and let me leave."
The man with the eyepatch looked at Steve for a long moment. At last he raised his gun over his head and then slowly brought it towards the ground. "All right, captain," said the man with the eyepatch. "You're free to go. But you can leave Ms. Stark out of this."
"I'll let her go when I'm out of here," said Steve jerking me a woman along with him.
"I'll be fine Nick," said the young women as she went along with Steve. "Captain, to your left is the entrance to garage. We'll take my car."
"And how do I know that you're not leading me into a trap?" Steve asked. He had moved the gun so that it no pointed into the center of her shoulders. He had never seen someone more relaxed with a gun pointed to the head, except maybe Peggy or Becky.
"Well," said the young woman. "The way I see it, is that you were about to fight your way out of here anyway. Best case scenario not doing that and I drive you out of here. Worst case scenario, you have to go back to fighting. Seems like there's no way to trap you on this one, Cap."
Steve didn't have a retort to that. "Walk quickly," he said.
The young women complied. Her high-heeled shoes clicked against the floor, which change from marble to concrete in an instant as they walk through one doorway into what did appear to be a garage. The young woman stopped abruptly, and Steve nearly ran into her. "What is it?" Steve asked.
"Forgot where I parked my car," she said.
"We’ll find it," said Steve.
There's no one coming after them now, or at least it seems that way. Steve didn't want to take the chance.
The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked very similar to the radio transmitter that the woman in his “hospital room” had had. “What is that?” Steve asked.
“It’s called a fob,” she said.
“That looks nothing like a watch,” he said. He jammed the gun into her back. “Look while we walk, and don’t press anything on there.”
“If you insist,” she said, still holding the “fob,” in her hand.
“And give me that,” said Steve, plucking the device from her hand.”
She moved along quietly as they walked through the garage. Steve observed as they walked—there must have been hundreds of cars packed in on this level alone, many of them different sizes and shapes in a vast array of colors. As far as he had known the Germans and the Russians weren’t that ahead of them with this sort of technology. Or else, they had very strange tastes in automobiles.
“Ah, fuck, how could I forget it here,” said the young woman as she came to a vehicle that was shade of dark maroon. The car was low to the ground and much shorter than Steve was used to seeing. It looked like it would only seat two people, and that he would barely fit. It was also parked in such away that it went over its allotted space, into a spot that had several horizontal lines going through it and the text that read [DO NOT PARK.]
“Ah, okay, so here’s what we do. Go around to that side of the car,” she pointed to one end, “and hold up the fob to the door handle. Then you should here kind of a click, don’t worry, that’s just the door unlocking. You and I should both be able to get in.”
Steve pressed the fob against the door handle. There was a click, he opened the door, and when he did so did the young woman. She slid into the car with ease, though Steve had been right—it barely accommodated someone of his size.
The young woman—it was getting annoying to call her that, Steve really ought to learn her name—hummed as she pulled a pair of shades down from a compartment in the car ceiling and pressed a button in the dashboard. The car engine roared to life. “Put your seatbelt on. The last thing I want to happen is have us get pulled over because you weren’t wearing a seatbelt.” She pulled her own belt around her as she spoke, reaching across her body with her right hand to where the belt hung on the car wall.
Steve mimicked her motion, though with some difficulty—he had to maintain pointing the gun at her while pulling the belt across his lap and pressing it into the buckle. The young woman, for her part, seemed very calm about the whole thing and didn’t put the car in drive until he had managed it.
“By the way,” she said. “My name is Toni Stark.”
“I know a Stark,” said Steve.
“Yeah, my dad,” said Toni.
“Howard Stark is seventeen,” said Steve, watching as she drove around in the garage. She kept following the signs that said “exit” so he would have to assume for the moment that they were actually going out. “I doubt he has a daughter who is his age.”
“Look, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to put it out there,” said Toni. “When your plane crashed over the Atlantic, your body went into shock and shut down. Something to do with the serum Dr. Erskine made cause you to—well it made you fall asleep, might be the easiest way to put it. And you’ve been out for a long time.”
“Assuming I believe you, how long is long?” Steve asked.
“It’s 2012,” said Toni, as they approached the end of the garage, where the light of day shone down on them. “You’ve been asleep for 67 years, Captain.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
But he didn’t have to believe her. What he really needed to believe were his eyes.
They drove out of the garage and toward the light. As Toni joined in with traffic, Steve watched from the window at the world around him. Everything was absolutely huge—the buildings sprung higher than he had ever seen and the noise that everything made—New York had always been noisy, but this was incredible. As they drove on, the came to a square that Steve thought he knew. “This is Time Square?”
There were displays, so many bright and colorful posters and even lighted messages scrolling across what looked like movie screens. But many of the buildings had the same shape and structure and so did the streets.
“Yep,” said Toni. “Kind of crazy isn’t it?’
“That word’s not strong enough.” Steve paused before he turned to her. “2012, you said?”
“I did,” said Toni. “I’d stop, but I’m already late.”
“Late for what?” Steve asked.
“I told Pepper I’d be back around 5,” Toni said. The clock in the car dashboard revealed it was about ten to five. “That fight with Nick really threw me off and our exit wasn’t the fastest thing in the world. Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, that guy with the eye patch, Nick Fury, he’s my godfather and current legal guardian. In case that comes up later. God I wish I was in my suit, and then I could just fly over all of this nonsense traffic.”
Steve, who had been looking at a large, large picture of a man his age wearing nothing but underwear (small, small underwear), turned back to her so quickly, his neck cracked. “You can fly?”
“Well, not right now,” said Toni. “I built a suit of armor and it has repulsors that allow me to go against gravity—you know what, I’ll show you later.”
They were stuck in traffic for another thirty minutes. At some point there was a random chirping noise that entered the vehicle which Toni claimed was a phone. She answered it to talk to Pepper, who she claimed was a CEO. “You’ll meet her when we get to the tower.”
And a tower it was—there were sky scrapers and then there was this gaudy building with the name [STARK] written on the side. Tony pulled into another garage, and drove up to the highest level, where she parked in a large space. The concrete wall had the spot designated with her name.
Toni exited the vehicle, no longer concerned that Steve was going to shoot her, and walked toward a metal door. She paused and waited. After a moment, Steve realized that she was waiting on him. “Listen,” said Toni. “Do you mind maybe not holding the gun when you meet Pepper? She’s a little gun shy; there’ve been some things that happened. She’s tough as nails, but all the same.”
“I still can’t trust you,” Steve said.
Toni shrugged. “’Spose not. But listen, you can load a gun in like two seconds. If people start falling from the ceiling.”
Steve looked at the gun in his hand. “I, uh, this one’s a little different than I’m used to.”
“Oh.” Toni strode toward him, and took the gun from his hand. She clicked one switch, then another and a magazine fell from the gun. She then pulled back on the top and the unfired bullet felt from the case. “Push the mag in again and pull back to cock it. It’s a semi-automatic, so you just need to cock once and you can continue to fire.”
“…Why did you just show me that?” Steve asked.
“You’re Captain America,” she said, holding out the magazine and the gun. “You’re not going to shoot me. I may not be the most red-blooded American ever, but you’re not going to shoot me. Now come along, Pepper ordered Italian and I’ve been craving Połenta e schie all day.”
Toni turned and strode toward the metal doors again. Steve thought about turning tail and running out of there. But then he stared for a moment at the gun and mag in his hand. He pocketed the two items and ran after Toni. She had Howard’s eyes, so he assumed she hadn’t at least lied about them being related. Hopefully, he wasn’t wrong and she wasn’t evil.
“Cap!” she called. The metal doors had opened and Tony was standing in a small room—an elevator, Steve reminded himself. He pocketed the gun and ran after her.
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