Chapter Text
Howard Stark paced in front of his desk. Nine steps to the left, nine steps to the right. His hands were balled behind his back, clenched in tight fists. He had started pacing half an hour ago, after waiting for more than an hour. He shot a quick glance to his desk. Next to the typewriter, underneath his lamp, lay a light brown envelope. He already knew what was inside – had learned its contents word for word, absorbing again what he once knew but had forgotten as the years went by. Next to it was today's newspaper, reporting on one of his newest inventions; next to that article was another about the protesters who rallied about how his weapons were a shame to humanity.
He didn't know what to expect. When he made the fund to find Captain America, he never thought they would really find him. He started it as a front after the war: the board had liked the way it made the company look, for it made it seem that not only was Howard close enough with the Captain to put a lot of money and manpower into finding him, but also it showed that Stark Industries had made enough profit during the war to be able to still put up such a fund. It also showed how Howard would invest his money in something else than weapons and war. So Howard had kept the fund even after society trusted SI again and had made enough money to make donations again. But he had never thought it would actually pay off.
Yet, here he was, anxiously pacing, waiting until his door opened to reveal the good Captain.
He had received the first telegram a week ago. One of his team, covering the smallest part of the search perimeter reported to have found an anomaly in an iceberg. He hadn't paid much attention to it, having received these reports for almost five years. Every iceberg with a remotely 'irregular' shape was reported as 'abnormal' by his teams.
One could imagine his surprise when he received a second follow-up telegram the next day, confirming that the Valkyrie had indeed been found. He had been eating eggs for breakfast, something he barely ever had because it would take time to actually cook. His wife had been wearing a red dress, which had a small spot on the left shoulder. As he felt the surprise settle down in his stomach, he felt an abstract form happiness rise, along with wonder and confusion. And still he hadn't found it in him to be enthusiastic. It would be nice to tell America that it was because of him, and therefore also because of Stark Industries, that body of the dead war hero Captain America had been brought home. He would arrange the military funeral, invite everybody who had known the Captain, along with other veterans, and the president himself. It would make the news for sure, which would please the board, but all in all, he had looked at the discovery as nothing more than something to profit from. It would be nice to have some good publicity for SI.
He had already started making the appropriate phone calls – Miss Carter had seemed sad, but relieved for the closure at the same time – when a new telegram was delivered, stating that the good Captain himself had not only been found, but he appeared to be alive: light breathing, slow reflexes and even a light heartbeat, slow but steady. The telegram detailed that the Captain had been taken to the closest SHIELD medical facility and that relevant personnel further awaited instructions.
Howard had to read the letter twice before the meaning of it got through to him. Not only was Captain America found, but he was also alive as well. He sent out a quick reply, detailing that the Captain was to take all the time necessary to recover, and then he was to be brought to Howard's Malibu home. Howard also gave the order to not inform the Captain about any changes to the state of the world but those absolutely necessary. And then, for the first time since the captain had crashed, he thought about having his old friend back – no matter how short a time they had known each other, during the war, they had become friends.
Yesterday, he had gotten the message that the Captain would be released that day and would travel to Malibu immediately.
Howard was shaken from his thoughts by the door creaking – he'd have that oiled as soon as possible – and in the doorway finally appeared a tall, blond man, clearly very muscled, dressed in a leader jacket, looking shyly around the room.
"Good to see you again Captain," Howard said loudly, his nervousness stealing his control of his own voice for the moment. He took a seat behind his desk. "Please take a seat."