The first time Captain America met her, it was for about thirty seconds at one of Tony's interminable charity balls, and she was just another Stark Industries employee, another blurred face in a line of blurred faces to be smiled at.
The first time Steve Rogers met her, it was in a library.
Steve liked libraries, which was odd, because even before the army, he'd never been much of a reader. But now they were a quiet haven, the sight of books calming in the face of all the rampant machinery and tech in his life, especially since he moved into Stark Tower.
But he was in this library on a quest.
This quest had started out, as most of them did, with a reference totally lost on, or misunderstood by, the Captain. Natasha had made some annoyed remark about technology unnecessarily taking over tasks as one of Tony's little floor cleaning robots bumped into her ankle for the fifth time, and Clint had broken out some quote about hair combing and shoe tying machines, which set Tony off onto a lecture about the book it seemed to be from (Tony was surprisingly literate sometimes), but failed to mention the title, the author or explain what the book was actually about.
When Tony finally wound down, Steve turned to Clint, an expression of confusion mixed with mute appeal on his face. He had discovered this particular expression often elicited more useful information than an outright question. Questions tended to be answered with teasing and more remarks on The Education of Captain America, as it had come to be called, often in a somewhat mocking tone of voice by the team, which Steve felt was slightly unfair. It wasn't his fault he'd been frozen and missed out on most of a century.
"It's a book, Cap." said Clint.
"I figured out that much," said Steve. "I'm not that hopeless."
"It's a collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury. Science fiction. It's called The Illustrated Man. It's good. You should probably read it."
Steve turned to Tony.
"Is there a bookstore nearby?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "I haven't set foot in a bookstore since 1998. You do know JARVIS can just bring up any book you want, right? And read it to you in a pleasing British accent, if you like."
"I like actual books," said Steve. "They're familiar."
"If you like books that much, you don't have to go anywhere. I've got a whole floor of them."
Steve looked at Tony in amazement.
"You have books?" he asked incredulously. "A whole floor of books?"
"The word is library," said Tony. "And yes, Stark Tower has library. What kind of monument to intellect is complete without a library?"
"I still can't get over that," said Natasha to Tony. "You who have the latest phone every two weeks and regularly go on rants about obsolete technology when faced with a toaster."
"The original collection was my mother's" said Tony, with dignity. He turned to Steve. "It's the fourth floor. The librarian will give you a tour and help you find whatever you want."
"I think I remember the Dewey Decimal system, thanks" said Cap. The other three looked at each other. Clint appeared to be trying not to laugh.
"How are you with Library of Congress?" asked Tony.
Steve just looked at him levelly for a moment, turned and left with as much dignity as possible, ignoring the laughter that followed him down the hall and into the elevator, where he asked JARVIS for the fourth floor.
Which brought him to the library. Where he is now. Where he is sure he came for a reason, possibly about a book, since this is in fact the library, except he can't quite remember because he saw the girl.
She must be the librarian. She was behind a desk and looked like every stereotype of a librarian, complete the glasses, the knee length skirt, sensible shoes, and blonde hair twisted into a severe bun. But she also looked like the kind of girl Steve used to dream about, the smiling girls in their pretty summer dresses and t-strap pumps, the girls whose smiles were never for him until the war, when he had no time for girls or smiles.
He walked up to the desk, intending to ask about the book whose name or author he can't remember, but she's a librarian and it's her job to know about books, right?
She was staring at a computer, but she looked up at his arrival and smiled. At him. Which isn't actually a rare occurrence these days, so he's not as fazed by it as he would've been.
"Ah, Captain Rogers," she said. "Tony let me know you were coming down for a book, but he didn't mention which one."
"Yes." said Steve. "A book. It was a science fiction book. I'm afraid I can't remember which one it was now."
"I don't blame you. I know that elevator ride always rattles my brain," said the librarian. "It doesn't matter. If we can't remember which sci-fi book you're after I'll just send you back with a lot of them."
She came around the desk. "Follow me, I'll show you where the sci-fi section is," she said, and set off. Steve caught up with her in a few strides.
"Thank you, Miss...uh." She turned.
"Oh I'm terribly sorry. Sophia Carbonell. But you can call me Sophie, everyone else does. We've actually met before, but it was for about half a minute at one of Tony's horrible parties, so I wouldn't expect you to remember."
"Miss Carbonell," Steve repeated. She blinked up at him from behind her glasses, amused. Her eyes were green, Steve realized. "I'm not...everybody else," he said.
She smiled again. "Yes, I can see that." She turned and started walking, adding "Sci-fi's this way" over her shoulder.
Steve followed her through the shelves, feeling mildly bewildered. The bewilderment only increased as she stopped in front of what could only be described as a wall of books. The books spanned from the floor to the ceiling, nearly twenty feet up. Steve looked around but couldn't see any ladders.
Miss Carbonell looked at him expectantly.
"That's a lot of books," was all he came up with. She grinned.
"My pride and joy. Any forthcoming recollections of the book in mind?"
Steve thought for a moment. "It was a collection of short stories. There was one that had something about...hair combing robots?"
"Bradbury!" the librarian said. "The Illustrated Man. The story with the hair combing robots is called The Veldt." She leaned forward and pressed a small button on the shelf. It dinged.
"Minerva," she said. "Do we have Bradbury's Illustrated Man on the shelf?"
"We do," said a female voice. It was a pleasant voice, quiet and eminently suited to a library. It also did not appear to come from any speakers or even a human. "We have a number of other Bradbury's works on the shelf today as well, would you like those also?"
Miss Carbonell glanced sideways at Steve, noting he looked slightly overwhelmed.
"Just send down the shelf with Illustrated Man, I think one is enough to start with."
"Very well," said the Minerva voice. "If you could stand back please."
The librarian took a step backwards. Steve followed suit. In his few months at Stark Tower he'd learned it was usually best to do as disembodied voices asked. A noise from the top of the shelf made him look up. A single shelf detached outward from the wall, and with a rather ominous creaking noise, descended towards them, thin metal arms unfolding. Steve stared and shot a sideways glance at the librarian. She was frowning, not in consternation but annoyance.
"That needs to be oiled," she muttered. "Minerva, make a note, will you? Might as well do all of A-C, I don't think anyone has for a while."
"Certainly, Sophie," said the voice.
The shelf creaked to halt at about shoulder level to the librarian. She ran her hand along it and pulled out a book, which she held out to Steve.
"Ray Bradbury's The Illustrated Man," she said. Steve was still staring at the shelf with mild alarm.
"They're quite safe. Howard Stark designed them actually. The original library was Maria's, and he didn't like the idea of her climbing ladders when she was pregnant. Tony had the whole setup moved here and updated during construction. They usually don't make that noise, I swear, but the maintenance crew has been rather busy with other stuff since the whole alien thing."
"And the voice?" asked Steve. Miss Carbonell smiled, looking rather satisfied.
"Minerva. My other pride and joy. She's the library AI. She's only on the library floor and the archives upstairs. I installed her here when I realized JARVIS couldn't quite do what I wanted."
She caught Steve's look of surprise. He'd begun to think of Tony's AI as omniscient and possibly omnipotent as well.
"He's not spectacularly good with the level of organization I need," she said. "A side effect of being the brain child of Tony Stark, I imagine."
"Minerva," she continued, "this is Captain Rogers. I have a feeling he'll become a regular visitor, so you're to help him with whatever he needs, ok?"
"Yes, Sophie. Do you need the shelf still, or shall I put it away?" asked the AI.
"I think we're done," said Sophie. "Put it up, and that will be all."
"Thank you," said Minerva, with something that sounded suspiciously like relief. "Lovely to meet you, Captain. I look forward to your visits."
"Nice to meet you to, uh, Minerva," said Steve. Even it was a robot, manners were manners. Miss Carbonell smiled at him.
"Minerva's a useful thing, but she gets a tad uncomfortable when the shelves are out of place for too long. She's a bit OCD. I may have overdone that when I wrote her."
"You made her?" asked Steve.
"Oh yes. It was either that or deal with Tony's approach to archival software. Which was...interesting."
"And I only figured out how to work a laptop a year ago," Steve said, shaking his head.
"Minerva's a lot easier to deal with than a laptop, Captain," said the librarian. "If you need her, press one of the little gold buttons on the shelves, tables or walls and ask her your question. She'll find you a book and direct you to it, search the internet and all the databases we have access to, even tell you where to find me or another librarian in the stacks. And when you're done, you can turn her off by saying 'That will be all.' I programmed her to leave you alone when you ask. JARVIS's constant listening freaked me out."
"I thought I was the only one who was unnerved by that" admitted Steve. "Everyone else takes it for granted when a disembodied voice answers questions they didn't even ask." She laughed softly.
"I decided to turn give Minerva an off switch the day I couldn't find my keys and JARVIS informed me I'd left them in the bathroom. I mean, he may be a disembodied voice, but a girl needs some privacy."
She turned and began to walk back the way they came, still holding the book. Steve followed her back to the desk.
"Can I have your Stark Industries card, please?" she asked. "It acts as your library card," she added by way of explanation. Steve fished it out of his wallet. She scanned it and the book and held them out to him.
"All set. Bradbury's good, but I should warn you it can be a bit weird, especially if you haven't read a lot of sci-fi."
Still befuddled by another disembodied voice, interactive shelving, and the longest conversation he'd had with alone with a woman in about seventy years, Steve examined the book, saying "I can handle weird. I haven't read a lot of science fiction, Miss, but you don't have to when you've lived it."
Inexplicably, she giggled. He looked up at her, confused. "What did I say?"
This only made her laugh more.
"I see what you mean," she said, finally. "When aliens pour out of a hole in the sky above New York, I'm talking to a man who essentially traveled through time and there's a giant green monster and a god living part time in the apartments above us, Bradbury probably pales in comparison." She looked up at him, green eyes sparkling. "I only hope you won't be bored."
"I doubt I will be, Miss," said Steve. "I mean, now that I've found the library."
"Good. Wonderful places, libraries."
Steve saw her smile again and had to agree.
Steve retreated to his rooms later that night, after SHIELD and team business had been dealt with for the day, intending to read one or two stories before looking over some SHIELD paperwork and maybe watch a few episodes of television, an invention he'd come to love. He was especially fond of the reality talent competitions, recognizing them as the descendent of the radio revue shows from his time. He'd told no one of this fondness, guessing correctly that the team would use this as more ammunition for their teasing.
He sat down in his armchair and opened the book. After a while, he went to turn the page and realized there were no more pages to turn. He closed the book and stared at it for a moment. If he'd known books could take him on journeys like that, he would've started reading a long time ago. He looked up at the clock. He blinked and looked again, sure he'd read it wrong. It stubbornly still pointed to 12. He'd been reading for hours. Good thing he only needed a couple hours of sleep, really.
He got up, and stretched, the stiffness from hours of sitting still an unfamiliar experience. He was a man of action, of movement. The only time he'd sat still so long before was in airplanes.
He got ready for bed, his mind still full of words, picking over the stories, still hungry for more. He didn't have a lot to do tomorrow, just the paperwork he meant to look at tonight, he thought, as he slipped into the bed. When he got that done, and anything else they needed, he could take the afternoon off, and go to the library. For more books, of course. Not for anything else, especially not a pair of laughing green eyes, no, not all.
He'd never looked forward to the prospect of a library visit more.