The Captain Discovers America
Setting: Post-Avengers. Pre-Anything Else.
Genre: Adventure/Drama.
Summary: "You should be out. Celebrating. Seeing the world." After the Battle of New York, a kid from Brooklyn wanders the country he fought for. Series of geographic one-shots.
{manhattan meltdown}
In hindsight, it was inevitable.
Manhattan pieced itself together as sluggishly as Steve's shattered ribs. Too much stress, too many teammates in SHIELD medical, too many nights with too little sleep. Too many battles led to too many tombstones with too little to show for it. Two bombs in Japan and two minutes to part two in New York.
In the heat of the moment, it was a shock. But looking back, the signs had been present every step of the way.
Bruised and battered, smeared with some combination of oil and alien blood, Steve waited with infinite patience for the team to assemble in the Tower for debriefing. He waited for Fury to enter, single eye fixed distractedly on a tablet.
And he calmly stood and broke his fist across Fury's jaw.
When the chaos broke and Steve recovered from bellowing himself hoarse at his superior officer for everything from Fat Man and Little Boy to abandoning the principles for which America stood, it became clear that something had to change.
"If your country has become comfortable with the methods used by the same men I died fighting, then why did you bring me back?"
A poignant pause and the room drew a collective breath. Steve's pupils contracted and a ghostly shiver ran the length of his spine as his metacarpals slid into place with an audible crunch. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry.
Some part of his brain insisted that he'd had more to say. And yet he could only repeat in a voice he cursed for trembling, "Why did you bring me back?"
Steve was not adapting. Steve was not adjusting.
Steve had rocketed out of a war zone into a world where his country was the dreaded enemy.
The realization crashed over him in a wave of revulsion and he needed air – now – NOW.
He spun from the room, unable to tear the flag from his chest quickly enough.
Somehow he found himself amidst the wreckage of the observation deck high above the city streets. Wind tore at his hair and whispered through his undershirt. Perhaps he could pretend that was the reason for the tremors wracking his body. Steve sank to his knees and dug his fingers into his scalp, praying that if he could hang on tight enough he could hold himself together.
He understood the team's absence. They had known each other for barely more than a day. He'd spent half that time alienating them and the other half ordering them about. He couldn't expect them to instinctively anticipate his rhythm, rise to his lows and buoy him the way his commandoes had done in the wake of the devastating loss of his best friend
-so what was he to do when his world had been gutted, stuffed and propped up in a mocking imitation of what he had once possessed-
A stray rib fragment traced its way along his internal intercostals, drawing a strangled gasp from the captain as the piece of bone was ushered into place.
One of his hands slid to hover protectively over his wounded side. He clung to the flickers of pain, allowing the sensation to pull him back from gazing into the abyss, back to the here and now.
Crumbling buildings stretched on for much of Midtown, leaving a bizarrely dark blotch in the evening cityscape. Distantly he heard the sounds of traffic, but more pressing was the approaching clack-clack of a dame in heels.
Then came an impossibly gentle hand on his shoulder and a vaguely floral scent. A more cultured, twenty-first century man might have been able to discern the smells, but he had spent more time trampling wildflowers than studying them.
Beneath his fingertips came the surreal sensation of ants crawling across his skin as tissue knit itself together. He shuddered again, a bitter laugh escaping him as he experienced an absurd moment of self-awareness.
"For Pete's sake, Rogers. Keep it together." He commented wryly, voice strained from the effort.
The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly. A feminine murmur came from beside him, "No, you really don't have to."
It was, of all people, Stark's woman. Potts. She was slight and ginger and delicate – the exact opposite of Peggy, who had been broad and no-nonsense and every inch of her in charge. Yet from what he'd read, they both refused to be dismissed on basis of their gender, climbing to their rank on basis of raw talent.
And like Peggy, Ms. Potts possessed a subtle tenderness.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before the ants began to settle and his trembling ceased. City lights twinkled in place of reticent stars that hid their faces from the mass of humanity below. The captain took a slow breath, trying to force calm through his veins. Because that always worked.
"Steve, have you ever seen the Grand Canyon?" Ms. Potts commented naturally, catching him off guard.
"Uh, no. Not unless a photograph counts." He replied, smoothing his hair and settling back on his haunches. Might as well abandon any trace of dignity; he was sitting in a pile of rubble being mothered by the CEO of one of the most powerful companies on the planet.
"How about Mount Rushmore? Old Faithful? The Pacific Ocean?" Her hand slipped away, but the gentle curiosity in her voice was just as soothing.
"No, none of those. On tour with the USO, mostly what I saw was the inside of theatres, barns, church halls and the like." Steve said.
Ms. Potts raised a teasing eyebrow. "No time for Captain America to see the country?"
He chuckled lowly. "Some of the girls did, I guess. When I wasn't on stage, I was studying."
This time she really did appear surprised. "Really? Studying what?"
Steve returned her gaze mildly. "Tactics, ma'am. There ain't– isn't a shot they can give you to teach you strategy. You gotta learn it the old-fashioned way, then test it in the field to see what actually works."
Ms. Potts nodded, thick lashes veiling blue-gray eyes. "I see. And with your head stuck in books all that time, you never found the time for sightseeing?"
He shrugged. "I guess not."
A moment passed as Ms. Potts turned and reached into her purse, pulling out a fat booklet and pressing it into his hand. "Than there's no time like the present, is there?"
Steve looked down at the waterproof book of maps in his hands, then back up to the woman beside him.
She gave him an encouraging smile. "Despite what New York would have you believe, this city isn't the center of the universe. There's a lot more to this country than Manhattan. Yes, America has changed, but not as much as you'd think. Why don't you take some time off and just explore it?"
Breathless, Steve looked from her freckled face to flip through the pages. Quickly he shut the book and let out an exasperated sigh as a hand flew to his forehead. "The Director's not going to be a rush to do me any favors after today." Part of him was expecting a court-martial, to be honest.
Ms. Potts' gentle palm returned, pressing his hand away from his face. "Let me take care of it. The Director owes Tony, and Tony owes you. After all, you did save his life. I'm grateful for that."
The possibility washed over Steve. The map book rested in his palm innocuously, the highways calling his name. This time, the borders of his country didn't feel like a prison – more like an invitation.
Could he really lay down his uniform and just… be?
Seeming to note his conflict, Ms. Potts' smile widened to reveal brilliant white teeth. "Go on. Get lost. Come visit us in Malibu, but promise me you'll take your time getting there."
"Ms. Potts, I-"
"Oh, one more promise. You don't work for me. Call me Pepper, alright?" She interrupted, voice firm, but teasing.
He flushed, then corrected himself. "Alright, Pepper. I don't what to say, except… thank you."
Pepper's eyes brightened, her tone softening. "No, thank you. For bringing him home."
Two days later, the Avengers gathered once more on Bethesda Terrace to bid farewell to Thor and good riddance to Loki and the Tesseract. Steve couldn't help glaring in contempt at the object that had led to more than seventy years of destruction on the Earth. Schmidt's lust for power had wrought a bloody path across Europe and sown the seeds of his own demise. The technology the madman developed had led to the death of a precious friend; his successors had invited an invasion that could have enslaved the planet.
For all those reasons, Steve had a shorter temper than usual. He thought it wisdom to stand back in silence as the demigods made their exit, lest he break his hand again.
Only once they had disappeared in a flash of cerulean energy that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up and a swell of déjà vu to curdle his stomach, only then did Steve unclench his jaw.
Agent Barton approached him first, removing his sunglasses now that the threat was gone. "So this is it, Cap?"
Steve smiled thinly, taking a deep breath and trying to put aside the uneasy feeling the departure had given him. "For now, yeah."
"Where are you off to first?" Romanov asked simply, coming alongside her partner.
Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, Steve replied, "I'm not sure yet. I think that's the beauty of it. South-ish. West eventually. Wherever I want."
Romanov examined him and gave him a thoughtful smile. "That's a new thing for you, isn't it?"
He returned the grin and nodded, bashful. "Yes, ma'am."
Shoulders stiff and spine rigid, Barton fiddled with his shades before tucking them in a pocket. "Look, Cap, before you go, I just wanted to say thanks. For, you know…"
Steve extended a hand, cutting him off. "Don't mention it, Agent Barton."
Barton shook his hand, his grip firm and steady. "My friends call me Clint."
The captain's smile broadened as he released the handshake. "Steve. Good to meet you, officially."
"We'll be seeing you around, then?" Romanov countered, her posture relaxing as she saw some of the tension ease from Barton's shoulders.
"SHIELD has my number. I'm sure you'll be hearing from me at some point." Steve replied, nodding.
"I don't doubt it. Take care of yourself, Cap. Steve." Clint finished, correcting himself automatically.
"Likewise." He grinned at the two of them and gave a polished salute. Romanov graciously touched her hand to her right temple, while Clint simply nodded instead.
Steve turned and saw Banner exchanging words with Dr. Selvig as they loaded up their equipment.
Banner caught his eye as he approached, a hesitant smile forming on his weathered face.
"Does this conclude another adventure for the intrepid Captain America?" Banner asked, catching Selvig's attention as well.
"More like the start of a new one." Steve said, his eyes bouncing from the equipment back to the doctors' faces.
"Well, I hope you find what you're looking for. I hear Colorado's beautiful this time of year." Banner replied.
"Colorado's alright, but it's got nothing on New Mexico. You've never seen the stars until you've seen them on clear desert night." Selvig chimed in.
Steve nodded thoughtfully. When Selvig wasn't possessed, he seemed like a nice enough fellow. "That does sound nice. Dr. Banner, will you be you heading back to Calcutta?"
Banner cast a glance over his shoulder, where Romanov was pulling a bag out of a SHIELD vehicle. "Oh, I don't know. I could be persuaded to stick around."
"I'll be seeing you, then." They shook hands easily, before Banner turned aside to take the bag from the red-haired agent.
"Dr. Selvig, thanks again for your help." Steve said, turning to the older scientist.
The doctor nodded and smiled. "Please, call me Erik. And if you do find yourself in the southwest, feel free to look me up on the way through."
"Will do." They shook hands before parting.
And then there was one.
"Capsicle, leaving so soon?" Stark crooned, leaning against his burgundy sports car with an ease that Steve would never possess.
He grinned despite himself, approaching and shaking the billionaire's hand with warmth he wouldn't have imagined possible just a few short days ago. "Stark. Thank Pepper again for me, will you?"
Stark nodded slowly. "Noted. And while I can't take credit for her brilliant performance in defusing Fury, I can leave you with a parting gift."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "A gift?"
"We can't have Captain America breaking the law on the way out of town, can we?" Stark replied, reaching into the backseat and retrieving a large red-and-white striped box tied with a deep blue bow.
Touched even with the not-so-subtle jab to his uniform, Steve didn't know quite what to say. "Stark, you didn't have to-"
"Yes I did. Seriously, it's some kind of illegal and all kinds of stupid to go without this. Not that I'm against bending the rules or general stupidity, but if you get thrown in jail, the country goes to pot. That's just how it goes. Now shut up and open it." Stark replied evenly, handing him the box.
He took the present with one hand, pulling gently at the bow and removing the lid. Inside was a helmet. Not just any helmet, but a handsome navy full-face helmet with dual visors and a button on the left side. Engraved on the back in a curious display of humility was the Stark Industries swoop without the lettering.
He looked up to the dark-haired man, blue eyes wide. "This- this is amazing. This is probably – no, this is definitely the best present I've ever gotten."
Stark's smile faltered for a moment before he put on a pompous voice that meant he was referencing something. "Yeah, well, you mussed up Fury's face, and that has somewhat endeared you to me. Give me that, let me show you how it works."
He tossed the empty box in the back seat, then launched into a quick explanation of how to retract the sun visor; how the Bluetooth could connect with his phone at the push of a button; and how to shut off the connection if he wanted to block out the world and be alone with the road.
Blown away by the gift, Steve asked a few pointed questions and committed the instructions to memory. Once the lesson had ended, he took the helmet back and drummed his fingers on the side. "I gotta say, Stark. When we first met, I read you all wrong. That was unfair."
The billionaire bristled. "No, I think you got it right. But you pushed me to be something… I don't know, better. That's what a good CO is supposed to do, yeah?"
Steve smiled. "Something like that. With a fair bit of yelling in between."
"Well, you've got that down." Stark grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy trails, Cap. Gimme a call when you reach California."
"Definitely. I'll see you… when I see you." Steve replied.
Stark nodded, then hollered over his shoulder. "Banner! Get in already! We've got an appointment with density!"
Whatever that meant.
Steve couldn't keep the smile from his face as he checked that his gear was secure, mounted his bike and set the helmet in place.
He thumbed the starter of his Softail Slim and kicked it into first, easing up on the clutch and pulling out of the park.
The road was calling.
This time, the soldier was on a personal mission.
He was out to discover America.
So this crazy thing happened last week. I was kidnapped on a camping trip and fell in love with the road again. I think the healthiest thing for your writing career is regularly doing things that are scary and new.
I've done a lot of traveling over the States, so much of this will be snippets of varying length over the course of Steve's grand road trip to encounter his country. I have a bunch of random ideas already for varying locations, but if you have a specific location or something you'd like to see him do/experience along the way, feel free to leave your suggestions in the reviews.
As always,
Don't write the story. Live the story.