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“Stark. I’m going to need you to come down to headquarters ASAP. We have a… situation.”
Tony had been sitting in the workshop tinkering with the plans for the Stark Tower arc reactor hookup when the call came in from SHIELD. They were basically ready, had been for a while, but as they say “art is never finished, only abandoned”—Tony felt the same about engineering.
He’s not entirely sure why he told JARVIS to patch Fury through, he usually likes to blow him off for a few calls, get him nice and surly first. He supposes he needed a distraction after staring at the same blueprints for several hours.
Tony spins around in his chair lazily, twirling a pen between his fingers. “You know, I’d love to help you out with your super secret spy club Inspector Gadget but I’m a little busy over here, you might have heard, just a little project having to do with a skyscraper and unlimited green energy. So you can find someone else to be your ‘consultant’ this go around, I’ll get back to you in, oh, 6 months or so…”
“We found Captain America. He’s alive. And he’s asking to see you.”
Tony’s brain stutters to a stop, his chair stops spinning, his pen dropping to the floor.
Tony had a… let’s say ‘tumultuous’ history with the legacy and legend of Captain America. Like any little boy growing up in post-World War II America he went through a “Cap phase” in early childhood—he had Cap action figures, a Cap bedspread, a plastic play shield, he was Cap for Halloween at least three times. But unlike any other kids, Tony’s father had not only known Captain America in the Army, but had a personal relationship with Steve Rogers. As Tony grew older Howard spent less time telling stories of how brave and perfect Rogers was, and more time telling Tony how impossible it was for him to ever compare to his childhood hero.
And so he spent late childhood resenting everything having to do with Captain America. Threw out the toys, broke the shield in half, stopped trying to emulate him in words and deeds. If he could never compare, if it was asinine to even attempt, then he might as well make a full one-eighty and live down to Howard’s expectations.
Then came puberty. The few posters that survived in the back of his closet were pulled out with new interest, in a perverse combination of nostalgia, titillation, and the thrill of desecrating something dear to Howard.
Complicated didn’t begin to describe adult Tony’s feelings towards Captain America.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“A fishing boat found him in the arctic, in a state of suspended animation. We thawed him out, and thanks to good old Doctor Erskine’s serum he’s right as rain.”
“That’s… that’s impossible, it’s been seventy years, it’s—wait, did you say he was asking for me?”
“I did. Apparently there’s no accounting for taste, even in the greatest hero the world has ever known. So I’d appreciate it if you hightailed it over to SHIELD before he realizes that the only thing keeping him from going to find you himself are a few locked doors and a couple dozen agents he could cut through like butter.”
“But. But why? How does he even know who I am, that I exist? How…?”
“It’s not like we’ve been keeping him in a cell, Stark! He has access to the news, current events, and we’ve given him files on all the major players—one of which, unfortunately for us all, is you. As for why, you’ll have to ask him that yourself, after you get. Your ass. Over here.”
“All right, all right, I’ll uh, I’ll be there in 30.” He waves his hand vaguely and JARVIS cuts the call. “Hey J, uh. Looks like I’ve got a date with my repressed childhood, so go ahead and clear my schedule, would you?”
——————————
Tony makes his way to SHIELD headquarters in a daze, mind circling around all the possible reasons Rogers could have for asking to see him. Did he just want to meet Howard’s son? That conversation wouldn’t be awkward at all. Did he want to talk about Iron Man, modern day superheroing? Did he just want out from under the thumb of Nick Fury—wishful thinking on Tony’s part, being military he probably fell right in line under a new authority. If that’s the case, maybe Nick is trying to use Rogers to get something from Tony.
Well, only one way to find out.
After maneuvering through the various security checkpoints at HQ, Tony is escorted to a small meeting room where he can see Rogers through the glass, sitting at the conference table reading a tablet. Tony sends the SHIELD lackey off, plasters on his media face, and pushes through the door.
Rogers stands up as Tony enters the room, and—Holy shit, the newsreels did not do him justice . Three or four (or six…) inches taller than Tony, and at least twice as wide in the shoulders. Someone must have taken him shopping— and I need to send them a thank-you card… or a yacht— because he was wearing modern clothes. A grey henley that was at least a size too small. Jesus. And fitted jeans that left little to the imagination. He cut an imposing, if immensely hot, figure—or he would have had he not currently been slack-jawed and several shades paler than was probably typical. Ooookay… Since he seemed to have the upper hand, at least for the moment, Tony swallows down any hesitation and saunters into the room with all the confidence he could believably manufacture.
“Captain America, I presume?”
Rogers blinks, shakes his head as if to clear it, and seems to pull himself together. “Yes! Yes, sorry”—he takes a step forward, offering his hand—“Steve Rogers, and you must be Mr. Stark.”
Tony accepts the handshake—god his hands are huge. His everything is huge— and smiles tightly back at him. “Tony, please. Mr. Stark was my father, and I know there’s a family resemblance, but I didn’t think I looked that much like Howard.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Captain.”
“Oh! Oh, no, that’s not—you remind me of someone, someone else that is. You don’t actually look much like Howard at all.”
That’s a first . Usually anyone who knew Howard jumped at the chance to point out any little similarity. It was a lifelong annoyance. “Well Captain, I’m glad to see you up and defrosted, of course, though I’m not entirely sure why you called for me—in fact I have no clue whatsoever, but I know you knew my father, I know you two were close, so before we go any farther, you really should know—I’m not Howard.”
“Good.”
Tony blinks. “Excuse me?”
“Look, Mr. Stark—Tony, I knew your father as a young man. He was good to me and my men, but he was not without his flaws, not least of which was his inability to put anyone else’s needs ahead of his own. Now, Fury gave me files on everyone involved in his Avengers Initiative, as well as access to the internet, library, and so forth. The things you’ve done as Iron Man… they’re amazing. Howard could never have been that selfless.”
Huh. Well, that was not how he expected that to go. “All right, well. You have my attention. What can I do for you, Captain Rogers?”
“Steve, please. And I was hoping we could sit down and talk, maybe over lunch? They don’t really let me out of here without a chaperone, so…”
Tony barks out a laugh. “Oh I see, you’re just using me for a jailbreak! Not that I mind—anything that will give Fury an aneurysm is instantly at the top of my agenda. Although how they think they can keep you here against your will…”
Rogers (there is no way Tony is calling Captain America ‘Steve’) smirks. “Yes, well, for the moment it’s easier just to humor them. At least until they get my back pay sorted out—right now all I have to my name is my shield and a few days worth of clothing they provided me.”
Tony tries really hard not to give Rogers’ practically indecent clothing choices another once over. He’s not entirely sure he succeeded. “Well, at least they didn’t shove you in a SHIELD uniform—in this, at least, we have some slight possibility of blending in. Good thing I didn’t wear a suit, people are always less likely to recognize me in jeans. Anyhow. Where to, Cap? I know a great place with an All-American Cheeseburger, seems right up your alley?”
“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I think I heard one of my handlers talking about a great Thai place a few blocks over?”
“Seriously? Thai? You think your 1940s tastebuds can handle it?”
Rogers gives him a boyish grin that is not at all endearing. “I like a challenge.”
——————————
“So, what’s with the briefcase the size of Manhattan?”
They had made their way quickly through the facility, only stopped once by a stammering agent trying very hard to stand up to Captain America and failing miserably. Tony hid a smirk at the altercation— stopping Steve Rogers from going where he wants seems to be about as easy as stopping a freight train. Rogers had grabbed what appeared to be a large portfolio case, which Tony lasted an admirable 3.2 minutes before asking about.
Rather than answering, Rogers smirks and ducks into a corner, nodding Tony over. He unzips the top and lets Tony peak inside, revealing a distinctively painted metal curve. “Oh shit, is that…? What am I saying, of course it is. Damn. You know, Howard spent the better part of half a century looking for the Valkyrie. Man, he’d be pissed if he knew some fishing boat showed him up.”
Rogers huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I bet he would.”
They walk the few blocks in a surprisingly comfortable silence, Tony interjecting a few times to point out landmarks or other favorite eateries, Rogers looking on in polite interest, hands in his pockets. He turns quite a few heads, understandably, sporting a combo of That Outfit, the physique, and the kind of easy confidence and body awareness people would sell their souls for. Rogers doesn’t seem to notice, which is amusing, and it also has the added bonus of no one paying a bit of attention to Tony. He tries not to let his ego bruise, reminding himself he is standing next to the actual peak of human perfection.
At the restaurant, Rogers asks Tony to order for them, so he rattles off a selection of various curries and noodle dishes that should give a decent variety even if Rogers ends up only able to eat the milder ones. Did the Serum affect his heat tolerance? They’ll find out shortly.
“So.” Tony says as their server moves on to the next table. “I figure you could have easily charmed some hapless junior agent into taking you out for curry. I assume there’s something you wanted to discuss away from Nick Fury’s ever-present ears?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Plan on filling me in Cap, or did you want to play Twenty Questions? Is it bigger than a breadbox? Were there bread boxes in 1940? Probably more than there are today, right?”
Rogers huffs a breath, runs a hand through his hair with a look Tony can’t place. Not quite the initial shock of when Tony first arrived, but definitely in the same family. The look you get when you’re reminded of something you maybe didn’t want to be, or weren’t prepared to be, at least. He swears it’s not about Howard, but…
People assume Tony doesn’t notice things. Narcissistic, entitled rich boys don’t notice anything that doesn’t directly affect them. But that was never Tony’s problem. Tony’s problem is that he notices everything , too much, all the time, information overload his brain sorts into useful/not useful/dangerous followed by a million subheadings in any given second. Focusing is often a problem, yes, but not because he doesn’t see things, but because sorting through what’s relevant or not in any given moment is all-consuming and exhausting. That’s why his workshop has every piece of relevant information in front of him and accessible at all times, filling his awareness, and music blasting out anything left over. Narrowing his focus like that outside of his own space is hit or miss, and dependant entirely on his brain’s fickle attention and interest.
Interest definitely isn’t a problem right now.
Rogers clasps his hands together on the table, a little too tightly. He sat on the side of the booth that gives a direct view of both the entrance and the door to the kitchen—Tony is very familiar with that instinct, but is willing to concede the spot to Captain Fucking America. The shield in its portfolio disguise is leaning against his thigh in such a way that if he were to need it, he’d have it out and in position by the time he was out of the booth. His features are youthful, if insanely attractive, but his eyes are piercing, deep, intelligent, and give the impression of someone who has seen much more than his years should add up to.
Rogers scans the room once more, then meets Tony’s eyes. “What do you know about time travel?”
Yeah, definitely interesting.
“What, like actual time travel? Or like, DeLoreans and—wait, you’re from the 40s... H. G. Wells? You looking for book recs, because that’s not really my area but I could have JARVIS pull up a list or—”
Rogers gives him an indulgent smile—fuck he’s known me an hour and already humoring me— “Actual time travel, yes. Specifically going backwards, but I’m curious if you’re familiar with any of the science at this point.”
“Of course I’m familiar with the science, I’m—wait, oh, oh boy. Look, I see where you’re going with this—”
“—I really don’t think you do—”
“—and I feel for you, really I do, waking up in a new century must be, god I can’t even imagine, but going back… we’re just not there yet. I’m not even there yet. I could tell you the theories and the science till your eyes crossed but it wouldn’t change the fact that the tech just isn’t there. Maybe in 20 years, come find me, but currently no. I really am sorry, I mean maybe if we start gathering data now, we could--”
Rogers, thankfully, stops him before he starts spinning out into what-ifs. “Tony! Tony, hey, it’s fine, it’s all right, that’s not where I was going with this, though it’s obvious why you thought that. I should have seen that coming, really. No, I’m not trying to go back. That part of my life is over, I’ve mourned it and”—he gives a wry little smirk—“moved on, I guess.”
Tony blinks “That was fast, didn’t Fury say they woke you up, like, three weeks ago? I mean I’m not one to talk, but I feel like there’s gotta still be some baggage there.”
“See that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It wasn’t three weeks ago for me, and it won’t take you twenty years to figure out time travel. It only takes you about eleven.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not the Steve Rogers Fury thawed last month. I’m from eleven years in the future.”
“You… you… what? That’s impossible.”
“You know it’s not. You just said yourself, you know the theory, it’s the application that isn’t possible yet. But it could be. And it is. In 2023.”
“Wait so, wait. Say I believe you, which I definitely do not, are there two of you running around Manhattan now? Where’s the other you? Did you… off him or something?”
Rogers lets out a surprised laugh. “What? No, god no, I sent him back to 1945. He’d just gotten here, he was lost, confused, depressed. I gave him the option of a second chance, and he took it. So now here I am.”
“But… but why? What’s the purpose of sending him back and taking his place? Are you… are you stuck? Did you want me to figure out how to send you back to the future—ha—to your own time? Because man I hate to be the bearer of bad news but like I just told you, there’s no way, not yet.”
“No, I don’t need to go back—uh, forward. Your time needs a Captain America to help you face what’s coming. I sent the other one back, so that’s on me now.”
“Ok, wow. Um. This is all very Terminator, ‘come with me if you want to live’ stuff so… how do I know this isn’t just some cryogenically induced delusion, or something?” Tony taps out a rhythm on the table, fingers restless. “You know me, in the future, right? That’s why you’re here? Tell me something you can’t read in a file, and maybe I can suspend disbelief for a bit.”
“Well… I can tell you that you have an AI named JARVIS, after your childhood butler who basically raised you, and that he was a better father figure to you than Howard ever was.”
“Ok that’s… true, but Fury knows all that, it could have been in my file. He’s creepy like that.”
Rogers looks down at his hands folded on the table, a small furrow in his brow. When he looks up and meets Tony’s eyes there’s an intensity there where before had just been a guarded friendliness. Tony steels himself, not entirely sure why.
“You haven’t been able to submerge yourself in water since Afghanistan.”
Tony’s brain shorts out for a blink. “That’s… how… how do you know that? I’ve never told anyone that. Not even my girlfriend, she’d just, you know, make a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be, it’s not a big deal really I just avoid hot tubs and pool parties but. How…?”
“You told me, about 2 years from now. Turns out we have similar water-related trauma.”
Their server chose that moment to arrive with all their various dishes which gave Tony a moment to digest. Of course, Rogers’ plane went down in the Atlantic, if he was still conscious as it submerged, well. Tony couldn’t say he knew exactly what that felt like, but waterboarding was close enough to commiserate, sure. He feels himself tapping again, somewhat frantically, on the reactor case this time, and wills his hands still. He grabs a pair of chopsticks and the nearest dish without registering what it is, just to give them something to do. He looks up to see Rogers grabbing chopsticks and one of the spicier dishes himself, which he takes a large bite of with an appreciative noise. Well, that answers that. Tony allows his brain to wander off into wondering about other undocumented enhancements Rogers may have ended up with, while Rogers is pointedly focusing on his meal, apparently giving Tony a (much appreciated) minute to absorb.
Tony’s mind wanders back around to the subject at hand, and—“So wait, if you’re from the future, does that mean… back at headquarters, was the person I reminded you of… actually me?”
Rogers rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah… sorry. I couldn’t just blurt it out, you know, but I’m not, uh, the best actor. Unfortunately.”
Tony snorts. “Yeah no kidding dude. So may I surmise from your Casper the Friendly Ghost impression back there that other-me met with an untimely end? Or, oh! Was I a supervillain? I could see that, to be honest, especially days when Fury--”
Rogers interrupts him before he spirals out into a full-on ramble. “No, no. Definitely not a supervillain. You, uh. You saved the universe, actually.” He looks down at his bowl, fingers clasped a little too tightly around the chopsticks. “You sacrificed yourself to save trillions, to save life as we know it.” He looks up finally, and Tony draws in a breath at the depth of emotion he sees when their eyes meet. Rogers smiles sadly. “You laid yourself on the wire, like you always do.”
Tony… is not sure what to do with this information. He leans back in the booth, blinks a few times. “Wow. That’s. Wow. I assume it, uh, worked, right? Saved the universe, all that jazz?” Rogers nods. “Well, not a bad way to go, all things considered. Better than choking on a pretzel. Ever since Iron Man that’s how I’ve hoped to go out, blaze of glory and all that, but getting confirmation is... a whole other thing.”
“Actually, that’s kind of why I’m here. You asked why I didn’t just stay where I was, if I was just going to send a different me back in time instead, what’s the point? Well, this is the point. I know, intimately, everything that happens in the next eleven years, everything that goes wrong, all the times we zigged when we should have zagged, or not been there at all. I can prevent so much pain and death, we can do it right this time.”
“That’s very noble of you, Cap, but also very… butterfly effect-y. You realize the more you change now, the more the future will change, and your future knowledge will become obsolete. Who’s to say this time it won’t spin off into something even worse?”
“I don’t believe it will. I can’t. And really”—he lets out a heavy sigh—“it can’t go all that much worse than it did the first time.”
“I thought you said we won, saved the universe, hip hip hooray?”
“Yeah but Tony—the cost. We lost—badly—first. We salvaged a lot, and you prevented an even worse catastrophe, but the end result was basically post-apocalyptic. It’ll take decades, maybe centuries, to heal from the damage. If we ever do. We can do better. We have to do better.”
Tony can see how this man became a famous war hero and leader of men. This amount of earnestness shouldn’t be legal. It was intriguing, and a little terrifying, how easily Tony was willing to take him at his word.
“Okay. I’m in. Why not, right? Sounds like it’s either help you out or just sit on my ass and wait for the bad shit to get here, and I’ve never been good at sitting still, so. Sure. Let’s do it. What’s next?”
“Well, for now, SHIELD thinks I’m the original Steve Rogers, and I’m going to keep it that way. I can work behind the scenes, set things up the way I know will prevent or intercept things that caught us with our pants down the first time. I have enough pull just as Captain America that people don’t usually question me when it looks like I know what I’m talking about.”
At this point their server comes by to check on them, and Tony takes the opportunity to hand over his card. He comes here often enough—and tips well enough—that they’ll let them have the table as long as they want, and know to give him privacy once he’s paid.
“So how does this work, you taking his place?” Tony asks when he gets his card back with the check and they’re alone once more. “Isn’t SHIELD going to figure it out the next time you have a physical? Eleven years is a long time.”
Rogers shakes his head. “I haven’t changed much, physically. I don’t age as fast as a baseline human. The doctors think that effect may wear off at some point, either I’ll start to age normally again, or age rapidly. We’ll find out, if I make it that far, but for now I should be mostly indistinguishable from him unless someone really knew what they were looking for.”
Tony squints at him, taking the opportunity to examine his features openly. “You’re supposed to be, what, 27, 28?” He nods. “Okay, I can buy that. Especially not knowing what the effects of being in cryo would do to anyone, let alone a super soldier’s aging process... no reason for anyone to really doubt you, if past-you isn’t here to compare with. Okay, so SHIELD is in the dark, who else? I’m flattered you came to me, Cap, but I really don’t think I should be the only one in on this.”
“No, you’re right, and actually that’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you first. I wanted to get your opinion on bringing Fury in—not SHIELD, just Nick.”
“I thought Fury was SHIELD.”
“In some respects, yes. He has a loyal following, probably even the majority, but there are things he doesn’t know, wheels turning outside his view. To be blunt, SHIELD is compromised, and I can only trust a handful of agents right now.”
“Wow, okay. Damn. I assume you’ll be filling me in on this more later? Okay, well, it sounds like you know a lot more about what’s going on than I do, and you’ve certainly known Fury longer than I have. Why ask for my input? I mean I’m always happy for an opportunity to be opinionated but I really don’t think I have enough information here to be an informed advisor.”
“No, but you have good instincts, and you may not have all the pieces but I’ve never known anyone who can extrapolate outcomes from limited information better than you can. Also, back in my time, one of our downfalls… in fact I’d say our biggest downfall, what lead to everything going to shit, was a lack of communication and failure to keep each other in the loop. I’d like to avoid that this time around. Keep our lines of communication open, talk out ideas, try not to assume the worst or jump to conclusions.”
“Sounds like you’re expecting us to work pretty closely, then.”
“I’d like to, yes. We work well together, compliment each other, and if we can avoid the traps we fell into the first time, I think we really have a chance of turning things around before they go badly again. I’d like you on my team, if you’ll have me.”
“What kind of team did you have in mind?”
“Well, I think you’re already familiar with Fury’s Avengers Initiative?”
Tony snorted. “Oh yes, he has me on the roster as a ‘consultant’—according to SHIELD, I am too compulsive, self-destructive, and narcissistic for the whole superhero gig. Not a team player.”
Rogers laughed, a genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Oh, I’d forgotten about that! That’s right, Nat’s report. You know it annoys her to no end how wrong her read on you was. Extenuating circumstances while you were dying, and all that. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with Fury. We’re a package deal—if he wants me, he’s gotta take you too.”
“I’m sure that’ll go over swimmingly.”
“It’s fine. He’s planning on putting you on the active team anyways, once there’s a threat big enough. He just likes to make you sweat a little. Wants you to work for it.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “Of course he does. All right, so what’s our first step, talk to the big guy? Assemble the team? Who are we talking about, anyway? I hacked into Fury’s files at one point to see the competition, and there weren’t many, unless that’s changed in the last six months.”
“It has, a bit. There are a few new pieces on the board, we can go over all the options with Fury, but the core Avengers team is you, me, Nat, Clint Barton—also with SHIELD—Thor of Asgard, and Bruce Banner.”
“Bruce ‘The Hulk’ Banner? The one who rampaged through Harlem then disappeared into the wind? He’s brilliant, obviously, but I was under the impression the rage monster half was uncontrollable.”
“That’s not entirely true, he has to kind of be… pointed in the right direction, but he’s sentient and can follow simple directions. We only let him loose in areas where collateral damage isn’t a problem, or is the whole point. And as for next steps, I’m thinking we meet again tomorrow or whenever you have another few hours to spare, talk to Fury, get the ball rolling. That sound good to you?”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll have JARVIS send you my schedule, just pick an opening and I’ll be there.”
The Avengers . Huh. Not exactly how he saw his day going when he woke up that morning. He’ll need to run it all by Pepper, of course, which should be a hoot and a half. She’d been less and less thrilled with his superheroing recently—Tony wonders if she thought it was just a phase, if his normal shiny-object-attracted attention span would win out eventually as it always had in the past, and bring with it new and less bullet-hole-ridden hobbies. Fortunately or unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, and with Captain America in the picture bringing talk of teams and conspiracies and the fate of the world, Tony is certain this will be the defining era of his life rather than a short chapter. Pepper will come around. Probably.
Tony pulls the check over, signs the bill and leaves an exorbitantly large tip while Rogers grabs his shield case. As they make their way back outside, Tony slips his sunglasses on and holds his hand out for Rogers to shake, which he does firmly. “Well Cap, guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. Try not to take down all of SHIELD without me.”
Rogers chuckles, shifting the portfolio case onto his shoulder. “I’ll do my best. See you around, Tony.”