the coming wave

It had been 7 months since the giant, chaotic meeting of the Time-travelling team. They’d all left the Sanctum a little dazed. Each person had something on their mind. A plan, an idea, just something. 

Frigga had been thinking about Hela, the same way that she’d been since Thor and Loki had revealed Odin’s deception to her. In the back of her mind, on a continual loop, she ran through all the spells she knew or had heard of. What would work? How does one get to Hel, find someone in Hel, release a life-force tying shackle, and leave Hel alive? How?

Agatha had been thinking about the Infinity stones and Hela. She didn’t necessarily have much skin in this game. From Yao’s recollection of her ward’s story, she hadn’t been involved at all. And she generally kept away from human drama, having been burned too many times before, but Yao and Frigga had asked for her help, and she did have some loyalty.

Yao’s mind had been fluctuating between Kamar-Taj and this new future being forged. Her mind continued to flash back to the more problematic of her students. The ones she’d always intended to rehabilitate. Since Stephen’s arrival, she’d been feeling increasingly apprehensive at their continued freedom within Kamar-Taj. She knew now, with much higher confidence, that her efforts would be in vain, yet she still found herself at a crossroads on what to do. 

Peter had been reeling a little since their meeting. As soon as he’d finished introducing himself, he felt as if he’d faded right into the background—being considered no more than the forgotten tea in front of them, contributing just as much too. He knew that at seven years old, there was diddly-squat that he could actively provide towards their anti-Thanos efforts, and while he did enjoy ‘just living his life’ as most of them had told him to, he felt like his purpose had been neutered entirely. 

Stephen had been thinking about Metro General. He was mid-way through his 5th year of residency. While back in the past, he’d been splitting time between the hospital and the Sanctum at night. To great success of courses, but he was starting to feel the effects of trying to live two drastically different lives. Neither of which he wanted to give up.

Loki had been thinking about many things. He’d put so much attention into crafting an alternate identity, that he’d repressed the problems his actual identity was faced with. Discussing the Infinity stones and Thanos had made him realize that he’d been stalling. Putting off the inevitable. He had time and now he had to actually use it. 

Thor had been thinking about something similar. Their meeting had reminded him of the threats which the Convergence would pose against himself and his family. He knew that with brewing tensions with Jötunheim and Svartálfheim, Asgard’s hold on power was becoming precarious. His realm was in both a better and worse positioning. He was glad for the time and the presence of his planet, parents, and frankly the whole Asgardian populous. 

Tony had been thinking of a lot of things. Ideas and plans were swirling through his mind at a rate that he couldn’t hope to keep up with, he simply reached and grabbed for the ones which seemed most worthwhile. The new Manhattan HQ, Steve, the new StarkPad, Bruce, Nick, the mansion, Vanko, Killian, Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, Thanos, the stones. His mind was racing as he walked out, trying to pick what he’d tackle next.

Suffice it to say, the group went their own ways for a little bit, having been caught up in their own plans and lives. 

They checked in with each other semi-regularly, but they found it hard to keep up. Individually, they weren’t used to the companionship, and as a group, they just weren’t familiar with each other.

Thor was long accustomed to work on a team, even before his days on the Avengers he’d been a stalwart warrior for Asgard. Thor was also long accustomed to prickly, recalcitrant teammates, so he was able to keep his distance when the situation called for it. Plus Thor had good reasons.

Loki and Stephen had always been on their own and they generally preferred to keep it that way. No matter how much Frigga or Yao insisted they do otherwise. 

Tony had also worked on many teams before. He was a team-player by definition, as a CEO and inventor. The only problem was that he’d been burned many a time by said teams. And while he knew that this sort of mission didn’t afford for double-crossings, the state of the universe being on the line and everything. But still.

The building was a behemoth.

721 Fifth Ave. 

The three-story mansion was right in the centre of the action, but still afforded a great amount of privacy. The lot was pushed back further than the rest of the street, leaving space for some beautifully landscaped frontage.

The mansion had been a staple of Fifth Ave longer than Tony had been alive, having been custom built by Howard Stark following his wedding to Maria Carbonell. It had been the Stark’s primary residence—where Tony had grown up, until boarding school—for over 50 years now. At least until the death of his parents, when Tony’d locked up the gates and moved to across the country.

Although in the future-past the Avengers had enjoyed the upper levels of Stark towers, Tony had learned the hard way numerous times over that his superhero business needed a home of its own, far from Stark International. And thus, the mansion came into play. For his imminent return to the East Coast, he decided to dust the gates off. 

He’d learned a lot of lessons in his life and given the chance to put that knowledge to action, Tony was feeling optimistic. 

It was the perfect idea, really. The mansion was already a large property, on a spacious lot in a proximal location, and with some renovations it would be the perfect headquarters. 

It had been 6 months since Tony had had the idea, and the renovations were now nearing completion and Tony was pleased at how they’d turned out. 

The mansion’s exterior remained largely the same, although some of the landscaping had become a lot more gratuitous. Under the guise of Tony’s eccentricity was intricate flora and fauna that provided innocuous cover and privacy to the mansion’s street-facing porches, gardens, and windows. The mansion was surrounded on three sides by 12-foot-high steel and concrete walls with the fourth, street-facing, side protected by an automated steel fence. 

All exterior fences, walls, windows, and doors were fully outfitted with cameras, defensive systems, and most importantly, JARVIS.

The main floor of the mansion didn’t contain anything confidential or dangerous. It was mostly public and press spaces which included a conference room, foyer, and grand hall. Deeper into the floor was the dining room and private library, with a more intimate dining facility attached to the kitchen. The private entertainment spaces had a game room with a billiards table, pinball machines, and video arcade games. Through the kitchen, there was access to the back gardens, which was also landscaped for optimal privacy despite the 12-foot walls. 

The second floor of the mansion was residential. There were 8 apartments available for claim, each fit to be a Manhattan apartment on their own. The apartments were available to all active Avengers, although he expected most would find their own spaces in the boroughs of their choosing. 

The third floor was almost entirely gutted. There were some storage and locker rooms, but the majority of the floor was functioning as transportation storage with car elevators to get to street-level. There was a space for the quinjet’s which would soon come, with a collapsable skylight allowing full functionality as a hangar. 

Tony was proud of his work there, but the true ingenuity came from the underground floors. There were 3 levels, the basement and sub-basement levels 1-2. 

Sub-basement level 2 was a spare of sorts. There were testing facilities, a hulk room, and a lab set-up which was split between biochemistry and mechanical engineering, mainly geared towards Avengers tech. It was mostly storage for equipment and currently housed a few of Tony’s older suit models that he’d already started slowly carousel-ing through. Tony’s main lab would forever be in Stark tower.

Sub-basement level 1 was for all Avengers business. There was a conference room that Tony had dubbed the ‘Assemble’ room. The floor was the most secure in the building because it also contained all of the secure servers responsible for JARVIS and for all intel, record, and data storage—not that JARVIS didn’t have numerous back-up servers on and off-line. 

The basement held all the recreational, training, and medical facilitates. Tony had splurged a little in that regard, especially with the amount of space he had to work with. There was a fully equipped gymnasium, an Olympic-size pool, a sauna, and a steam bath. The biggest splurge, however, was the state-of-the-art Combat room, which was heavily reinforced and had full automation to simulate all sport of combat environments and attacks.

The medical facility however, was decked out. He’d been pretty liberal with the tech he’d added there because he knew it would pay off.

And it already was. 

In the Medbay now, Loki and Bruce stood around leaning on desks and chatting idly. Bruce was throwing questions at Loki, who simply responded by conjuring apples and throwing them at him.

To Bruce, the game was trying to figure out the physics of so-called ‘seidr’. To Loki, the game was to see how many times he could trick Bruce into flinching when he launched an illusionary apple rather than real one.

They continued to play as they passed the time, waiting for the sounds of a portal spinning to life. They continued to play, trying to distract themselves from mission at hand, both for vastly different reasons. 

Loki had been tasked with tapping into his Jötunn heritage, to access his related abilities. He’d seen it in action before, while being attacked. The Jötunn’s had extended their hands and it seemed like the ice shards had simply sprouted from them. Loki had had luck practicing the technique, it was intuitive enough really. Although he found that his abilities were generally weaker in his Asgardian form, they were accessible with great concentration.

Unfortunately, what Loki’d been tasked with was both a reversal and a logical stretch of the natural and intuitive Jötunn powers he’d worked so hard to access. 

Dr. Banner had been tasked with acting as a medical doctor and expert on super-human healing, which he categorically was not. He had no idea when he’d been relegated to the role of “Dr.”, but his PhD’s really shouldn’t qualify him. So, now, Bruce was trying to ignore the panic he was feeling at the thought of performing medicine by trying to guess how ‘Loki’s’ ‘magic’ worked.

As Bruce snapped his arm up, grabbing for the apple soaring through the air, the crackling sound of a portal filled the space. He turned his head to the side, forgetting the projectile entirely as his panic resurged. He watched as the portal spun open, quickly snapping into place. He noticed it was larger than the other portals he’d seen, and the Arctic chill immediately permeated through the medbay. He kept watching, up until the apple smacked his palm like a backboard and thunked his head. 

Loki snorted at that, sweeping his hand is a wide motion and making all the apples on the floor disappear instantly. He stood up straight then, running a hand through his hair before approaching the portal. 

He waited for a few short seconds before walking through without hesitation. Bruce watched, unsure if he needed to follow. Before he could even think to call out, a large chunk of ice floated through the portal followed by first a levitating Loki, then Strange, Thor, War Machine, and Iron man. The latter two were filling the otherwise tense air with chatter comprised of Col. Rhodes’ shocked reactions and Tony’s amused ones. 

Bruce found himself silently siding with the Colonel. It wasn’t everyday you recovered a war hero, and less likely was the option that the man may still be alive. The supposed time-travelers were entirely too cavalier about the whole thing. Logically, Bruce understood why. But still. There was nothing logical about the last year of his life.

The block of ice made a resounding thunk as it landed in the centre of the room. 

“Are we just leaving it—.. Uh him there?” Bruce asked hesitantly. 

War Machine’s face plate popped open suddenly, “Do you really want pop a block of ice on fresh linen sheets?”

Bruce spluttered lightly before frowning. 

“How’s it going, Frosty?” Tony asked as he stepped out of the whirring metal suit that slowly folded back into the form of Iron Man. Bruce gaped as the suit walked off on its own, to stand beside the block of ice. 

“Just a second,” Loki muttered as his fingers twitched beside him. He seemed to be straining, but otherwise looked like he was just standing there, in Bruce’s expert opinion. Which unfortunately was not expert because he caught the business end of an apple significantly more than he’d gotten any answers.

The droplets gradually started forming faster on the surfaces of the block. The pooled water underneath increasing. 

Small streams could be seen forming down the sides of the ice block. Exponentially, the pace of it seemed to increase, the block steadily shrinking now. Slowly, the shape of Captain America was becoming visible. The vibrant red, white, and blue costume being the first thing to show through the translucent ice. 

Bruce held his breath as the sight of the corpse became clearer, cursing silently once he saw the clearer details of the face that was undoubtably Captain Steve Rogers. Like from the comics.

He took a step back as the Iron Man armour bent over and hoisted the body up before it could slip off the rapidly disappearing block of ice. It thumped over to the nearest bed slowly before depositing the body onto the bed carefully. 

“Is it.. Did you program it to do that?” Bruce asked, turning towards Tony who stood there watching with a weird look on his face. 

Instead of Tony responding, the armour shifted suddenly, turning to ‘face’ him before he heard the tinny voice of JARVIS, “Greetings, Dr. Banner.”

“Oh! Hi JARVIS,” he responded in surprise, nodding before looking back at the body in front of him. “This feels morbid.. Are we sure about this?” 

Bruce knew the answer he was going to get—the same old assurances to assuage his apprehension—but he still felt the need to make his reservations and skepticism known. The concept of suspended animation was ridiculous, it reminded him of that conspiracy theory about Walt Disney. 

But hey, he could transform into a giant green guy and a giant grey guy so, who was he to talk really.

“Loki will you be able to wake him?” Thor asked distantly.

Loki, who’d approached silently behind the armour, was staring at the body, “I believe that this may be a limitation of my powers. It may not help, lest I remove all the moisture from his body.”

Tony made a noise of alarm under his breath, “Yeah, let’s avoid that, Stephen?” He called, looking over his shoulder.

“Banner hook him up so we can monitor,” Stephen requested as he moved away from his corner. He floated, actually, Bruce noted in his head.

Stephen landed near the bed, and reached an arm to hover above Captain Roger’s chest. His hand began glowing with golden energy and he waved it evenly over the whole body, spending more time on the chest and head. He hummed lightly, tilting his head in question and he considered the situation. 

“It’s as I expected, and thankfully prepared for,” he finally said, dropping his arm back to his side. “I think I have the right spells, but it’ll still take a little time for him to wake up. Maybe a week.”

Thor stepped forward, “Is that with my aide, Strange?”

“That’s only with your and Loki’s help,” Stephen added, turning to look at them both. He created a small portal and his cape detached from his shoulders sweeping through it. Bruce’s eyes widened in response, head tilted in curiosity. 

The cape swooped back in with a bunch of parchments, dropping them off onto the foot of the bed. Stephen motioned towards them, “Start reading.”

Tony blew out a breath, “What am I doing, then?” and before anyone could respond, “Just stand here and look pretty? That’s Jim’s job.”

Rhodey huffed a laugh in the background, finally stepping out of his suit entirely. He then slumped down onto a nearby chair, “I can’t help with the squishy sciences, but if any of y’all have a plane that needs fixing,” he offered sarcastically before kicking his feet up on the bed beside Steve’s.

Tony watched with a smirk, he muttered something to himself before walking over and lying down on the same bed. Jim grunted before adjusting his feet to rest on top of Tony rather than under.

Bruce watched amusedly before turning to the magical half of the room, who was already reading the parchments. He sighed before he start attaching all the nodes to set-up the various life support and monitoring machines nearby. 

The closer he got to the body, the more he got the creeps. Eerily, he looked like he was still alive, while being remarkably dead. Definitely not someone who has been dead for 70+ years. 

He heard Tony call from behind him, “Don’t poke him, Banner!” and it was only then that he realized he was hunched over with his hand hovering near the body.

He coughed, and stepped back abruptly, face pink with a little embarrassment, “This is all too weird, are you sure I have to be here?”

He could hear a deep sigh behind him and a thump, “Yes, Bruce. You’re a part of this team now. Think of it as bonding.”

Bruce grimaced, thinking of his stupidest choice which was joining this band of clowns. Unfortunately for him, they’d gone all existential and appealed to the fact that if he joined them he wouldn’t be actively on the run anymore. Which was probably the biggest draw there. Unfortunately, it also meant that they began monopolizing his time. Luckily, he’d been able to get out of all their ‘team meetings’, but he wasn’t able to duck out of ‘missions’.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head, before continuing in his tasks of checking the machines. Once he finished up, he rounded the bed and walked straight over to Jim and Tony, promptly claiming a chair and pulling it up to them. 

“I knew you’d pick the Science-bro’s Bruce,” Tony said with mild enthusiasm.

“Those magical weirdo’s have nothing on us,” Rhodey added, voice a little muffled because he was leaned back with his arm thrown over his face.

It was three long, agonizing, boring weeks before Steve finally woke up. Three weeks full of trepidation, doubt, and totally-scientific poking. 

The day that Steve Rogers finally awoke in the 21st century, there was no fanfare. The weather was muggy, meaning everyone was spending their time indoors. 

Tony had been leasing a penthouse in Manhattan, which was where he tended to spend a lot of his time as Stark International made the slow crawl towards NYC. Stark tower had finally broken ground—which was a difficult hurdle to cross—but was only going to be up and functional in a year or so. 

On this day in February; Tony was in his sub-basement lab at Avengers mansion, Stephen had been at Kamar-Taj, Loki & Thor had been working, and Bruce… actually no one was really sure about where Bruce was.

Steve’s eyes flickered open slowly, feeling heavy like his limbs were made of lead. He closed them rapidly, recoiling at the brightness of the room and groaning as he brought his hand up to rub his eyes. 

Distantly he heard a beeping and then a swoosh. The sound of rushed footsteps is what made Steve finally crack his eyes open and shift to an upright position. 

The sight that greeted him made him jerk suddenly, a man, dressed casually and looking rumpled and dirty.

“Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you? Who am I?”

The man with peculiar facial hair startled at the onslaught of questions, hand shooting up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Tony. Stark. Tony Stark. And you’re Steve.”

Steve coughed, turning to throw his legs over the side of his hospital bed. He rested both his hands on either side of his body, head turning as he took in the incredible surroundings. All that greeted him was gleaming metal surfaces which confused him deeply. He had a look of deep contemplation on his face. 

“For a moment I forgot, but I’m not that lucky. I can never forget that I’m Captain America,” Steve shook his head, sighing deeply, before lifting his gaze back to Tony. Tony seemed to cringe at the look in his eyes, “Where am I? This can't be basecamp.”

Tony sighed before approaching slowly, eventually reaching the bed beside him and leaning sideways. “No, it's not,” he answered finally, arms crossed against his chest. 

“You were frozen, in the Arctic,” he added after a pause. “It’s 2009, Cap.”

Steve’s expression hardened at that. The man was clearly American, the accent gave him away, which means he was safe at least. He doesn’t think he was lying about the year, considering his remarkably high-tech surroundings. But that meant.

Steve frowned again, “…Am I meant to return to the frontlines?"

Steve shook his head in frustration, "Captain America is meaningless without Bucky. The commandos. I don’t belong in this age, in this year, in 2009. There’s no place for me here. If only…” Steve trailed off, hands coming up to cradle his head in frustration, head shaking.

Both of the men shot up suddenly, at the sound of the door swooshing open again. Another man walked in swiftly, eyes looking slightly alarmed as he assessed the situation. The man carried himself formally, Steve instantly recognizing the posture and meticulousness of a military man, making him simultaneously sit a little straighter and settle in comfort. 

The man locked eyes with Steve before whipping towards Tony and back, “He didn’t say anything weird, did he?”

The question was asked so earnestly that it startled a laugh out of Steve before he collected himself again quickly. “No, No, Mr. Stark was just apprising me of the date.”

The man cleared his throat, “Good. Good. I’m Lt. Colonel Jim Rhodes and can I say Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to meet you.”

Tony coughed into his fist, “He prefers Rhodey actually,” he said teasingly with a smile. 

Steve watched the camaraderie with a light grimace, feeling the lack of his own best friend who was meant to be at his side. 

Steve approached Jim swiftly, reaching a hand forward, “The pleasure’s all mine, Colonel.”

"Just Jim, please."

Steve nodded adding, "then I'm just Steve," before looking around again, feeling incredibly awkward. Tony had been observing him, reconciling his memories with the man before him. 

The Steve in front of him was troubled and lonely, he almost resembled Bambi. It was disconcerting to be honest. There weren’t many times he’d seen Steve look so unsure of himself, he had been so sure that it never happened. Or maybe Tony had just never been privy to it.

Undoubtably that led Tony to spiralling about the future-past. But he couldn’t afford to do that now. “Cap, uh.. why don’t we take this upstairs, yeah? I’m sure you could use some water, or juice, whatever,” he muttered as he turned, waving in invitation over his shoulder as he walked through the door. 

Steve turned to Rhodey, almost in permission, and received a slight nod and a welcoming smile. He followed him out.

As the elevator doors opened Steve held back his gaping, his eyes widening instead. What he’d initially assumed was a hospital, was actually just the lower level of some sort of mansion. He followed behind silently as both men moved through the space with ease.

They eventually reached a kitchen, if one could even call it that. The kitchens he’d been used to were one counter with a bunch of dinky appliances crowded around a sink. This, however, was a huge room kitted out with more gleaming silver surfaces and a huge block of granite. The room was surrounded by these huge windows the size of walls. He’d never seen anything like it.

When he finally returned his gaze to Jim and Tony, they were looking right back from the counter. They smiled at him, making him feel sheepish in his obvious awe, her walked over swiftly to join them at the counter, finally taking a seat at one of the stools. 

Tony drummed his fingers on the counter, seemingly waiting for Steve to say something. Tough luck because he has nothing to say. The silence seemed to stretch between them before Jim broke it, thankfully. 

“Okay, I recognize this is a peculiar situation, but why don’t we get some ice-breakers out of the way?”

Tony snorted immediately causing Rhodey to raise an eyebrow and then widen his eyes, “Sorry, sorry,” he quickly tacked on.

“I see what you did there,” Tony sung out, dragging out the syllables, which lead to the two bickering. The banter was nice because it allowed Steve to fade into the background comfortably. As the two friends tossed veiled insults back and forth, the soldier spent a second to ponder his current situation.

What was he to do now? Everyone he ever knew was gone decades ago. The war he’d been staunchly fighting in had long ended. He never owned a home, even before the army. His best friend was presumably long dead. His date with Peggy was 65 years ago and he didn't show up.

What was left for Steve Rogers?

“Wait, did you say your name was Stark?” Steve asked, suddenly looking less forlorn.

“Yeah, son of Howard, that’s me.”

Steve smiled lightly at the connection, opening his mouth to respond before once again being interrupted. A sizzling and crackling sound seemed to ring though the kitchen, but neither of the men in front of him truly reacted to it. 

Steve turned his head to ascertain the origin of the noise, but couldn’t seem to identify anything particularly different. Soon after it elapsed, a man walked through the threshold of the kitchen in a hurry. 

He was clean shaven, with strikingly bright eyes and matching scrubs. A doctor, clearly.

Jim and Tony greeted him cordially, making Steve relax marginally.

“Oh, Hello. I didn’t realize you would be up and about. It’s nice to meet you Captain Rogers, I’m Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doc,” he greeted, standing to his feet and dusting himself off before offering a hand to shake. “I assume you were tending to me, in some capacity?”

The doctor nodded in response, eyes assessing. 

“Then can I ask, is all right with me?”

The doctor smiled then finally releasing his hand, “I think that’s a safe assumption. Although a few more tests wouldn’t hurt.” 

Dr. Strange then jerked his head towards the ceiling, and called out in question, “JARVIS?”

Steve raised an eyebrow in concern, the man was taking to nobody so perhaps he was the one Steve should’ve asked after. Although, to Steve’s eternal surprise, there came a response. A voice he’d never heard before answer evenly, “Nothing unusual, Doctor Strange.”

Steve jerked back, he had neither seen or heard another person enter, nor had experienced a voice that seemed to emanate through a whole room. His head whipped around searching for a source, finally landing on a small speaker near the ceiling, before turning to look back to Tony and Jim questioningly. 

“Jarvis is a virtual being of sorts, helps me out around the house and business,” Tony offered, the explanation remarkably vague, probably to not startle Steve any further.

“Apologies Captain Rogers. I kept myself muted as to not shock you.”

The more he thought of it, the more he realized that he was being observed and treated rather carefully. He nodded his acceptance before returning to his previous seat, “So what happens now?”

This seemed to be the right thing to say because the three other men found seats of their own after passing out glasses of water. 

Steve took a sip, feeling crisp and refreshing relief at what felt like his esophagus re-inflating. He had chugged the glass before he realized it. He quietly put the glass down, not yet feeling comfortable enough to help himself to more. 

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for a couple of weeks now,” Dr. Strange started before Tony cut in, “Which gave us plenty of time to try and figure this all out.”

Steve nodded, “And I appreciate that effort. I’m assuming coming back from the dead is not something that happens often.”

“No… Not at all.”

“We haven’t initiated anything just yet. We wanted to let you have control over this whole situation, and have enough time to really acclimate. 65 years is no joke,” Tony explained. 

Steve felt eternally grateful at that, feeling like it gave him back a semblance of control in this truly twisted situation. He smiled genuinely, “Thank you Jim, Mr. Stark, Dr. Strange. I truly appreciate the thought behind that.”

Steve thought about it for as second, “I’ll definitely need some time to figure myself out…” he sighed out. 

Dr. Strange smiled commiseratingly, “Just Stephen, please. And please don’t think we were going to wake you up and boot you out on the street.”

Tony cleared his throat, “Call me Tony and sorry if that wasn’t clear. I renovated this mansion to house a team  of sort.. there’s plenty of space and a room with your name on it.”

Tony then reached under the counter without looking away and pulled out a flat screen-like thing. Stephen snorted in response, “Did you plan that?”

Tony puffed up slightly, looking indignant, but before he could defend himself JARVIS cut in, “Indeed. He had me prepare multiple tablets to be placed in possible locations throughout the main floor.”

Jim laughed heartily at that, the ridiculousness of it all making Steve crack a lopsided smile. He felt himself growing more comfortable in the presence of the three men. 

“…Anyways,” Tony began, loudly to overwhelm the sound of laughter, “I created a program that will help you get assimilated with the years that passed. I figured you could stick around here, get through this and then make a decision about your next steps.”

Steve nodded slowly, that sounded like the right idea. Although it did feel restricting he didn’t want to sound like he wasn’t grateful.

Jim seemed to notice his slight shift because he was quick to reassure, “You’re not stuck here, Steve. If you don’t like the sound of that, you’re free to branch out on your own, we can help with that too.”

Steve sighed, shoulders slumping, “Thank you. Sorry. It’s just—”

“Don’t be,” Jim said solemnly, “Do what works for you, don’t ever apologize for that.”

It was a particular serious tone he took to relay his message. Making Steve mull over his statement that much more. He didn’t come from a time that valued that sort of thinking, life during the war was centred around how to help the boys on the frontlines and contribute. 

He’s sure that despite the lack of active warfare, 2009 values couldn’t be so starkly different. So, he assumed the advice was individual to him, which made sense.. He was in a particularly unique situation and he supposes parsing the exact ‘right’ thing to do would be difficult. 

Even still, it had been a while since he’d really thought about Steve Rogers, the man behind the cowl and the stars and stripes. 

He nodded to Jim, more to assure him than in agreement. He wasn’t sure where he stood just yet, but uncertainty wouldn’t get him far he knew for sure. He suppose with their plan he’d have time to figure it out anyway.

Steve’d been in 2009 for a day before Tony suggested they make an outing to Brooklyn. Steve had been so excited, but immediately hit with a visceral level of fear. Fear of what he would see, fear of what had been lost to time.

He reluctantly agreed, too overwhelmed with longing to really muster up a no. He’d relayed his mother’s old address as he joined Tony in his car. Something called an Audi which was sleeker and gleamed more than anything he’d every seen or imagined. The drive was bumpy and at a speed he’d only experienced on a plane, which was something that Tony laughed at when he mentioned it. 

When they finally pulled up, they found themselves at a storefront for a bakery called ‘Caputo’s’.  He turned his head, looking around the street and noticing all the other colourful and busy storefronts. He felt so small beside them all.

The Brooklyn brownstones he remembered were decades gone. He’d been in this time for less than forty-eight hours—not nearly long enough to acclimate to this new world. In desperation, he strode onto the street that he remembered from his youth—only to find himself instead in the middle of traffic, cars honking at him, insisting that he keep it moving.

The problem was.. Steve wasn’t sure if he could.

Steve’s head continued snapping back and forth, frantically taking in the scene. Finally, Steve caught Tony’s eyes, Tony who’d been watching him from afar, observing his reactions with a nervous look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Steve could see Tony mouth, his ears picking up the faint murmur through the sounds of disgruntled traffic. Steve’s head tilted in confusion, which seemed to snap him out of his dazed melancholy. 

Steve walked back over to him slowly, “Sorry for what, Mr. Stark? This is hardly your fault entirely.”

Tony snorted, “Well, maybe not. But I should’ve warned you, at least.”

Tony shook his head minutely, looking displeased with himself or Steve or perhaps the whole situation. Steve clapped a hand onto his shoulder in comfort, “Relax, Tony. I had to see it eventually.”

Tony sighed, turning his head to take in the brownstones before shaking his head and returning his gaze to Steve. 

He crooked a pained smile, “Let’s head out, yeah?”

Steve returned his smile sombrely, “Yeah, there’s nothing left here for me.”

Steve watched the cars drive by slowly, most of them braking and stopping because of the traffic. Traffic seemed to be the only time he’d seen anyone in this city slow down. 

He watched a man walk down the street while speaking on the phone and eating a croissant. His face was screwed up in frustration and flakes of pastry flew onto the sidewalk as he gestured wildly.

While initially Steve felt the urge to laugh, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. The man had stopped and began shouting onto his phone, becoming more forceful. Eventually, the last half of the croissant thumped uselessly onto the ground, having been shucked during one of the gestures. It was like a metaphor. For what? Steve wasn't really sure, but there was something there.

Steve scoffed, looking back down at his plate. His own croissant was left half-eaten, cooling rapidly in the morning breeze. That's gotta mean something as well. Good or bad, Steve still wasn't sure.

He grabbed the croissant, stuffing it into his mouth without hesitation. When he looked back up, the man had hung up the phone and continued walking, barely noticing as he stepped on the croissant. Somehow, that made Steve smile.

Steve - 1

2009 - 0

Steve stood up and walked back inside. That's enough people watching for today.

It took 4 months before Steve actually felt like he could have a life in 2009.

The first two months were spent reading, learning, and no small amount of stewing in his misery. He ‘googled’ pictures from the Smithsonian archive, he spoke about the war, he let himself feel his grief and misery wholly. 

That was inspired by the advice of Dr. Stewart. Dr. Stewart was a psychotherapist that Tony had brought around to speak with him. He’d been hesitant at first, not wanting to get shipped off to the loony bin. He’d heard of all the things that happened once the therapist got brought around. 

But, that was another disconnect. It wasn’t like that anymore. In 2009, therapy was a tool that a lot of people used to improve themselves and work through great ‘trauma’s’. Which was apparently one way to describe what he’d been to.

So, he let all the feelings wash over him. All of the grief that manifested since he woke up in the mansion. But opening the door led to all of it hitting him. Bucky being captured. Standing Peggy up. Bucky being experimented on. Erskine being murdered. Being rejected, again and again. His mom dying. His dad dying. Growing up disadvantaged, physically and financially.

He really let himself feel it. And very reluctantly, he spoke about his feelings.

It took 2 more months for Steve to stop wallowing and finally speak to Dr. Stewart. And once he did, it felt good to say his piece. It felt amazing to finally say all the things he’d wanted to say to generals, recruitment officers, and teachers. 

It took 2 months of speaking with Dr. Stewart for Steve to finally take his re-education seriously. He started getting through the tablet with its endless addendum and recommended readings or viewings. How many things could he have missed? Pop culture, Entertainment, Politics, War, Terrorism, Extremism, the Civil Rights movement, Feminism, Technology, the Recession… It feels endless, but it felt great to finally understand the references Tony continued to throw at him.

Tony who’d quickly become an ally in this confusing time. Who he was incredibly thankful for, along with all his new friends. Jim who could relate as an ex-military man. Stephen who constantly told it to him straight, a quality which he truly appreciated.

He’d even met a few new people. Though he still didn’t know what to make of ‘Thor” and “Loki”, both of which claimed to be ‘Norse gods’. The rest of his friends seemed to simply roll with it, completely accepting that information as true. So he did too… sort of. He really wasn’t sure yet.

And that was when he finally felt like he could have a life in 2009.

It was 6 months into the future that Steve finally made a decision about his life. He’d been watching the news when suddenly, a ‘Breaking News’ banner flashed on the screen. 

A shaky video of ‘Iron man’ was seen, he was flying towards a man standing in the middle of the street. The man’s posture screamed trouble and if the wrecked surroundings were any indication, he was terrorizing the people around him.

Steve watched on, amazed, as the man was quickly subdued by Iron man. By Tony.  

And that was all it took took for Steve to think back to what Jim had said al those months ago.

‘Do what works for you’

Steve Rogers was a righteous man. Steve Rogers believed in right and wrong. Steve Rogers was meant to stand vigilantly against the loss of freedom and liberty.

Steve Rogers forced his way into the army, an admittedly bad idea, but he did it because he believed that he could help. It didn’t matter that he was physically inept. But then Steve Rogers became Captain America. And Captain America had the facilities to help in many different ways. 

And it might have been 65 years, but he was still Steve Rogers, still Captain America, and his principles and morality hadn’t gone out style.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Can you tell the guys that I made a decision about my future?”

“Are you absolutely sure, Steve?”

“Yeah, you can’t take it back. Media attention is a fickle thing,” Stephen added.

Steve nodded, “I may have been immature in my younger days, but watching Tony and Jim in action made me realize that there is such thing as a necessary evil.”

For some reason, that made Tony giggle uncontrollably. Steve looked at him in question, which led to him coughing and apologizing mutely.

“Just never thought I’d be a role model,” he explained. Steve huffed a laugh at that, “Can it, Shell-head.” 

“I am and always will be Captain America. It’s time for me to be that man again.”

Jim nodded, “Don’t forget about Steve Rogers and what he wants.”

“Steve Rogers became Captain America for a reason. I won’t stand by where I can help.”

Steve laughed, running a hand through his hair, “but Steve Rogers was also an artist, which I’d like to revisit.”

“Well, we can make that happen. But seriously, if you’re doing this.. there are some things we need to tell you about.”

The remainder of the conversation took Steve through a rollercoaster like span of emotions. Excited that the SSR had survived in SHIELD and then, very quickly, horrified at its infiltration with HYDRA. HYDRA whoo Steve had given his life to foil. And then Steve grew furious at the existence of the so-called ‘Winter Soldier’.

By the end of the story, Steve was breathing raggedly, feeling out of control. He felt like he could punch a hole in a wall, hop through, and run straight to Bucky. But he didn’t know where Bucky was and neither did his friends. He couldn’t do anything and it was killing him.

He looked up at his friends, his grief clearly plastered on his face, “What’s the plan?”

Jim and Stephen both looked to Tony for his plan, allowing him the time to speak.

“Well.. We’ve been working on uprooting all the HYDRA within SHIELD. Compiling data and the like. The problem with taking action is that after the first strike they’re likely going to dig in deeper or go ghost.” As he explained their strategy, Steve codlin’t help but notice how hesitant he looked and sounded. They’d long abandoned the notion that they had to treat Steve like he was made of glass, so it was off-putting to see the same tactics used again. Steve suspected that the topic of conversation was setting Tony off somehow. 

He nodded in acquiescence. He understood the need for stealth and strategy—as much as it pained him.

“I get that… but we do have to start somewhere.”

Tony signed, reaching up to swipe a hand down his face, “Yeah.. yeah, that’s what I was hoping you could help us figure out.”

Steve smiled, puffing up in response, “It would be an honour.”

“Before we get to that, though..” Jim said suddenly, elbowing Tony right in the gut while staring at Stephen. Tony looked pained for a second, in a way that Steve had only seen a few times, which had Steve’s hackles rising instantaneously. 

Was this the other shoe dropping?

“Buckle up, Soldier because this is going to sound ridiculous,” Tony announced, the hesitant look back on his face. He looked impossibly vulnerable as he observed Steve, watching his reactions.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at that, “More ridiculous than HYDRA still existing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jim responded, hand raising to clasp Tony’s shoulder. He then made eye contact with Stephen, before jerking his head and standing up. 

Stephen clasped Tony’s shoulder too before murmuring, “This one’s all you.”

The two walked out swiftly, leaving Tony seated across from Steve, looking remarkably nervous. 

Steve stayed quiet, waiting for Tony to initiate the conversation. He had no idea what to even say, his mind already felt like it’d been put in a blender.

“There’s more to my-.. our story that I want to share. In the spirit of being open and uh.. communicative.”

Steve nodded, feeling a little dazed.

And that feeling didn’t recede at all as the next two hours passed with Tony recounting a truly ridiculous tale. Steve sputtered and hummed and exclaimed in reaction to each ridiculous turn in his story. 

“Ok, aliens and robots and more aliens.. why does it feel like you cut out major parts of the story?”

"That's it? Just 'Ok'?"

"Mr. Stark, you're talking to a man who was frozen in the Arctic for 65 years, if there's anything I would get, it would be time travel. Stop deflecting."

Tony thumped his forehead onto the table in front of him, his voice coming out muffled, “You and I didn’t really have the best rapport.. it’s a story of it’s own really.”

“In the future that passed, SHIELD found you and fished you out. They gave you their own biased files about the world and kept you in a SHIELD apartment surrounded by spies watching you.. I found out about this after the fact.”

As Tony continued to explain, Steve was surprised at the drastically different way the events had played out. Steve watched as Tony seemed to get more anxious as he continued on, finally getting to something he jokingly called the ‘civil war’. Before Steve had the chance to voice an opinion on the conflict Tony added.

“All those things…all the things I said and did– I’m–I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but I hope you will allow me the chance to earn your friendship, on even ground now. I may not deserve it…I just hope you let me,” his voice was pleading in a way he’d never imagined possible. 

“Thank you,” Steve said, even knowing it would make Tony uncomfortable, because he couldn’t not say it, and maybe it really  didn’t mean much to Tony—although Steve didn’t believe that was true—but it meant something to him.

“Thank you for telling me, Tony. It clearly wasn’t easy and hardly a pleasant story, but I really appreciate it.”

Tony smiled back in response—well, it was more of a grimace—before waving his hand dismissively. He looked ready to write off all the emotions, but then he paused. He cleared his throat, looking back up to Steve. 

“I’m not half as good at– at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you. And that’s the truth. Maybe there was a reason you had to be on the other side of every argument. You could be my rudder, steering me when others couldn’t.”

Steve smiled at that, cheeks reddening slightly, “I don’t know if I deserve all of that. But thank you.”

It took 8 months for Steve to feel truly alive again. He was in the gym. With Tony and Jim and Stephen and the ‘norse gods’.

Although his skepticism was looking less and less credible now that he’d seen them in action. Or more accurately, gotten his butt kicked. 

He reached his arm out, offering it to Tony who was prone on the ground. He grunted in response, grabbing his hand and tugging himself up. He returned to his previous defensive stance, fists waving in circles like a boxer in a taunt. 

“You’re holding yourself too loosely. Kick that leg back, square your hips, yep… perfect,” Steve instructed.

Tony adjusted himself accordingly, mouth quirking upward lightly, “I appreciate you taking your valuable time to help a desk jockey with his neuroses.”

“You appreciate..? are you kidding? Mr. Stark, When I woke up in this era, I had no one. Nothing. You gave me purpose, somewhere to belong… You gave me a home.” 

“Cap… It's Tony, always,” he said with a growing smile, reaching a hand out to shake which Steve resolutely shook. 

Tony slipped out of the ring then, walking to the bench to grab his water bottle. He squirted some water all over his face before turning back to look at Steve—who’d just realized he’d been staring.

“I hope my skills are up to par because I have a good idea of what Captain America’s first mission in the 21st century could be.”

Steve tilted his head in question, earning a smirk from Tony, “You finally get to see SHIELD!”

Tony giggled at his own statement before turning and approaching the magical grudge match between Stephen and ‘Loki’.

He then stuck his hand to his lips and whistled loudly, catching the attention of the entire training area. 

“I think it’s time we start collecting some stones.”