Hey look, an update! I've got a lot of material needing fleshed out for this so just be patient and hopefully the next wait won't be two months. Enjoy more from our nameless narrator.
Tony always wants me to tell him more stories. I do, sometimes, in the warmth of the communal lounge at the centre at midnight, or in the car or jet on long journeys to and from conferences or galas. He likes the ones where Captain America if flawed, imperfect, human like all of us. I understand why: even now, after saving so many people and spending so much to help repair damage, he feel that he can never be good enough. Being able to see Steve's weaknesses is comforting, showing that you don't need to be perfect to still be an essentially good man.
But I tell him other tales too: Achilles, Helen, Archimedes, Daedalus. Men and women who are famous because of their mistakes. He likes those ones, of pride and hubris and haughty grandeur – he says he can see himself in their flaws and that he's glad he's managed to fix a lot of them. Pepper always smiles and murmurs that she's glad. I thought that she'd ask for stories too, but she hardly ever does except to announce that "We're having an optimistic one tonight." or that they need to be "Child-friendly please." Most often I tell them in fittingly similar situations: Achilles was told as we besieged a rebel base in the East, Helen at a highbrow gala in New York, Daedalus and the inventors' tales on clean-up ops in the labs or after a fight.
Clint like to hear of my travel with Thor, Loki, others. I tell him of a warrior pair- Wolf and Dragon, a shape-shifter and a human wizard- who could turn the tide of any battle and infiltrate the strictest courts. He likes those because they are spies' tales of intrigue and political upheaval. Wolf and dragon would like you, I say, and they'd love your family too. He frowned at me and told me he can hear how sad I get when I talk about them. Smiling sadly I assure him that it's nostalgia because it's been so long since i last laid my eyes on them, two young men who live on forever in the songs of every world they've encountered.
When the days have been too hard, and I'm sad or stressed or grieving again over those I used to know I tell stories about children I've raised, fostered, trained. I tell of young Tom, who fell in love with a time traveller and eloped and joined the Howling Commandos; of a young man so angry and terrified and limitless that I took him to Asgard, Olympus, the Nova Corps, and trained him to be a diplomat. One wintery October night Steve very quietly asked about Tom, his wife, and whether the child turned out to be a girl. Looking him in the eye and telling him we never found out because Hydra got to her first is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Telling their story brought all the heartbreak back and left all of us weary and grieving.
Sam- and Pepper even- prefer happy stories of the most beautiful places I've ever seen and the funniest anecdotes of Thor's childhood and pre-serum-Steve's many misadventures. So I tell of feasts disturbed by two unruly boys- one gold, one dark- being scolded by Frigga because princes such as they should be setting the example and hence should not be upsetting maids by stealing bread in the palace kitchens. They always shake their heads, commenting on how far Thor's come. I tell them of how the relationship between Steve and Tom developed, of how Steve's reaction to Hermione's pregnancy was "I'm not ready to be a grandfather!" and how he then needed a whole bottle of whiskey and a lie down when they announced their engagement. Steve himself tells how proud he was to walk her down the aisle of a tiny church in the north of France.
Today is a hot July day: the fifth, when we all hide our hangovers in coffee and black tea. What should I tell this morning?
Something happy.