III. Iron Man, Part Two
Fury gave Bruce a list of places authorized to handle Steve's physical, with the understanding SHIELD would house his medical data electronically. Bruce ignored the list and told Fury he wanted to use Stark Tower's medical bay for the physical. Surprisingly, Fury okayed this.
Bruce rung up Tony after Fury and Romanoff left the lab to ask if his Bullshit about Stark Tower medical was true, and if not, if he could make it true.
"I've been letting clinics in the area use the first two floors of Stark Tower to treat the injured," Tony replied. "You could probably borrow their equipment."
"Good idea. Thanks," Bruce said.
"So what are you gonna do with the oh-so-precious super-soldier med data you've collected?" asked Tony.
"Record on paper, and get around to entering it into a computer later," said Bruce mildly.
"A lot later?"
"No ETA. I'm bad at entering stuff into computers, see."
"Awww, Brucie. I knew you had it in you," said Tony, his grin evident in his tone.
Bruce ended the call and headed to the guest quarters he and Steve had been sharing for the last two days. And almost ran into Natasha Romanoff in the hall.
"Hi, again," she said, as she neatly stepped out of Bruce's way.
"Uh, ummm," Bruce stuttered.
Romanoff smirked. "I just wanted to say hello to Captain Rogers," she said.
Bruce started to quietly panic. He wasn't sure if it was alright for Agent Romanoff to know about Steve's intermediate state. She was part of SHIELD, and one of their best operatives. But she had also fought alongside him as an Avenger, even when she didn't have to.
Then Bruce was saved. Steve, in full Captain America state, joined them, holding up a bloody fist.
Then Bruce went back into shock. Because, you know, bloody fist.
"What," he choked, pointing.
"Good Morning, Agent Romanoff, Bruce," said Steve sheepishly. "I punched a mirror."
Romanoff didn't look perturbed. "Good Morning. Call me Natasha. And I heard you don't like mirrors, Cap."
"Call me Steve. I haven't since Rebirth," Steve sighed. "Help, please?"
Bruce eventually came to and led Steve to the nearest impromptu clinic. All the supplies Bruce needed were laid out for him when they entered the room. While Bruce pondered this deeply suspicious setup, Steve seated himself on a chair and waited.
At last, Bruce gave up and started working.
"You're adorable," said Natasha, as Bruce picked out the shards in Steve's knuckles.
Bruce absently noted he was cradling Steve's injured hand. "He is, isn't he?"
"Is this a 21st century thing?" Steve muttered, turning pink.
"Yes. And we're going easy on you," said Natasha, beaming prettily.
Before long, Steve's right knuckle was glass-free and carefully bandaged. The later was almost unnecessary, as the wound looked about a week old at that point. Bruce couldn't help but marvel at this. What kind of immune system could generate such accelerated healing without triggering some kind of autoimmune disease? How did it differ from AIDS and certain forms of blood cancer? Seriously, how did Dr. Erskine pull this off without knowing the existence of DNA? (Or maybe he did? But how? how?!)
Bruce must have let his thoughts wander down this path too far deep into his mind, because next thing he knew, someone was tapping his shoulder. Bruce shook himself and saw Natasha giving him a Look. Bruce understood the look even though he'd never seen it before.
"Sorry. I have terminal wandering mind disease," said Bruce, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh, Steve, Fury told me you're long overdue for a medical."
"He would," Steve groaned. "Are you my doctor?"
"Uh-huh. You okay with that? I know you don't like medical. And I'm not even licensed."
Steve nodded without hesitation. "If it's you, I'm fine."
Bruce felt profoundly flattered and honored by this. He also felt completely under-qualified as a result.
"Tell me at any point if it's uncomfortable. I'll stop right away," said Bruce, as he removed his gloves.
Bruce first helped Steve filled out a standard medical form. Bruce was more than a little discombobulated at the sheer number of conditions and past illnesses Steve listed as had having pre-serum: scoliosis, color-blindness, stomach ulcers, deaf in right ear, arrhythmia, damaged aortic valve, pernicious anaemia, asthma, and chronic fatigue; family history of diabetes and heart problems; had scarlet fever, Spanish flu, multiple bouts of pneumonia and finally tuberculosis.
"How did you stay alive?" Bruce asked, incredulously.
"Providence?" said Steve, shrugging helplessly. "I got the serum just in time. TB was about to finish me off."
After the forms, Bruce had Steve weighed, measured and checked for obvious abnormalities (none). While at it, Bruce made a mental note to do another physical when Steve was in his intermediate state for comparison purposes. Steve appeared calm and his heartbeat was steady throughout the exam, despite the audience of Natasha and the fact he was an impeccably muscular six-foot-two stated loudly otherwise. Bruce couldn't help but marvel at this dichotomy, or whatever character quality Steve possessed that made this possible.
Once Bruce finished drawing the required blood samples and labeled the vials, Natasha spoke up.
"SHIELD would like you to do a full body x-ray and MRI."
Steve looked both wary and curious. "What's an MRI?"
"Magnetic Resonance Imaging," Bruce said. "Think of it as an x-ray scan for muscles, without x-ray's bad side-effects."
Steve looked fascinated. "X-ray has side-effects? What kind?"
"The usual stuff that comes with ionizing radiation," said Bruce, knowing full well he was explaining it badly. "Cancer, tissue damage, and gene mutations that may prevent you from having little Rogerses in the future…"
Steve stiffened when Bruce mentioned the last item. Natasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. Steve considered Natasha, then Bruce, and turned pensive. Bruce, who assumed Steve was reacting like any virile man who had heard a potential and highly novel threat against his fathering abilities, just waited for Steve to work it out.
"What's gene mutation?" Steve asked, at last.
"Do you know what genes are?" Bruce asked.
"No."
"Okay, let's start there," said Bruce, putting down his clipboard and then running a hand through his hair. "Genes, genes … oh boy, where do I start…"
"If I may intrude, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS' digital voice. "I took the liberty of compiling some educational videos that may aide Captain Rogers' education on this matter."
"Thank you," said Bruce fervently. "JARVIS, play."
Steve mouthed 'videos?' as JARVIS dimmed the lights. Then he watched with rapt attention at the various YouTube videos JARVIS projected on a white wall.
At the end, Steve looked a bit overwhelmed.
"So if DNA is words of an alphabet," he said slowly, "their arrangements are words and sentences, and epigenetics is the plot … the story on the fabric of life."
"Yep," said Bruce.
"That was almost poetic," said Natasha, eyes mischievous. "Didn't know you're a poet, Steve."
Steve did a little shrug. "Not really. So gene mutations are … bad edits? Huge splatters of ink?"
"Bad ones would be like that, yeah," said Bruce. "Just so you know: some mutations are beneficial. Like our ability to drink milk past infancy."
Steve nodded thoughtfully.
"I think I get it know. Thank you, JARVIS. Bruce."
"My pleasure, Captain," said JARVIS.
"Yeah, no problem," said Bruce. Then to Natasha, he said, "I'm gonna grab an MRI tech and a radiologist. It'll take a while. Are you staying?"
Natasha shook her head. "Call me when you're done. JARVIS knows my number. Take care."
She left swiftly. Bruce and Steve shared a look.
"Guess she wanted to make sure I got medical," Steve remarked.
"Guess that means she cares," said Bruce. "Now about the mirror thing…"
"Quickest way to turn me into Captain America," said Steve. His smile looked painful. "My reflection disturbs me."
Bruce shut his mouth. He never had an occasion to look into a mirror and find the Other Guy staring back. He knew how the Other Guy looked like based on photos. But he supposed if he was forced to see the Other Guy every damn time he saw a damn mirror, he would hate them, too.
Damn it. Temper.
"So," said Bruce, as he controlled his breathing. "Wanna go see an MRI machine?"
oooo
JARVIS guided Bruce and Steve to Tony's personal MRI machine (why he had one, Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to guess). Steve took one look at it and declared it looked like a whiter and sleeker version of the vita-ray chamber he'd been encased in for the final stage of Project Rebirth.
"Something tells me that's not a good thing," said Bruce.
"Not exactly a fond memory," Steve muttered.
So Bruce took the time to explain how MRIs worked. He liberally used white boards, markers, Google and YouTube videos to supplement his pathetic powers of explanation. Steve looked enthralled - at both MRIs and Google.
"So this is basically a big magnet," said Steve, patting the outer casing.
"Uh-huh," Bruce said.
"What would happen if your body has metal inside of it?" Steve asked.
Bruce was delighted to witness Steve's perceptiveness without a bleak truth at the end of it.
"Electronic devices get shorted out, and iron shrapnel will head towards it. That's why people who have … uh, pacemakers or metal knee replacements can't get into these things."
Steve played around with Google search while Bruce worked with Tony's MRI technician, a.k.a JARVIS, medical subroutine. Steve appeared to have mastered the basics of Internet Search by the time the machine was ready; Steve was expertly executing the right-click and open new tab function for a search result on ...Sherlock Holmes, of all things.
"Congratulations, Steve. You have just mastered Google-fu 101," said Bruce.
Steve grinned. "I really like the Internet. It's so helpful."
"Amen. God bless the Internet," said Bruce reverently. "Now why Sherlock Holmes?"
"He's my favorite character," said Steve wistfully. "Bucky and I … we read the stories over and over. It's good to know people still read them."
Bruce went still at the mention of Sgt. James Barnes, 'Captain Steve Rogers' closest and dearest friend, inseparable from schoolyard to battlefield.' It felt like hot snakes had coiled low in his gut. Bruce mulled over the sensation and concluded it was second-degree anger: something not directly aim at him, but angering nevertheless.
And it wasn't new. When he was on the run, Bruce read a Captain America comic meta-text on a whim, and this particular fact had struck him hard. It seemed to so unfair that a good man who didn't turn bitter when his sickly friend turned into a super-soldier, but risked his life helping him, would die so abruptly. Sgt. Barnes deserved better, damn it. He deserved to leave the war with his best friend by his side as a decorated hero. So what if it was cheesy? The world was cruel enough as it is. And speaking of Steve…
Bruce had to wonder how fresh Sgt. Barnes' death was in his head. It might have been a mere month or several months. Either way, not too long ago from Steve's perspective. Did SHIELD set him up with a grief counselor? Did they give any thought of PTSD? Or did they merely wanted him functional for battles?
Oh god, and here was Bruce, thinking he could do a better job. What was he doing?
"Uhhh," Bruce choked.
"There's so much to learn," Steve went on, apparently oblivious to Bruce's turmoil, as he planted his palms next and leaned back, and his gaze far away. "I don't think even three lifetimes will be enough to learn everything."
"Yeah, well, we do call this century the information age," Bruce mumbled because he was a sorry excuse of a man who had social skills of a concussed and diseased cat, trying to be a dog.
"Sounds more plausible than the Age of Options," said Steve, a little quirk on his mouth. "So is the MRI ready for me? Or is it the other way around?"
"All parties are ready, Captain," said JARVIS smoothly, and Bruce concluded then and there a Tony Stark programmed A.I. had more emotional intelligence than himself. "Please lie down on your back on the sliding table. If you have any coins or credit cards on your person, please leave them on top of the cabinet. Once you are comfortable, the table will slide into the magnet chamber. Please let me know if you feel claustrophobic. Also, do not be alarmed if you hear any loud snapping and clicking noises."
Steve did as asked. Soon all Bruce could see was Steve's bare feet sticking out from the chamber. JARVIS showed the live recording of Steve's face inside the MRI. The whole situation reminded Bruce of a scene in the TV series House, MD, where Wilson pretended to be god over the intercom, while House was in an MRI.
"After this, let's watch House, MD," said Bruce. "It's a TV show. You'll like it. There's a lot of hand-wavey medical science, and Sherlock Holmes references."
Steve's eyes sparkled.
"Man after my own heart. Oh, and if you like, I'll write the notes Dr. Erskine showed me."
Bruce was undone.
oooo
"Hey, Brucie Bear, miss me?"
Bruce tore his gaze away from Steve's MRI images he'd been studying so he could pay attention to the holographic projection of Tony Stark.
"Hi, Tony, good to know you still remember I exist," he said.
"Darling, how can you think like that? I called right after I settled in Malibu," said Tony, pouting. "Okay, so maybe I was incommunicado for a few days. Weeks. Almost a month. Possibly. Anyway, how are you and mini-Rogers doing?"
"Steve's doing well," said Bruce. "He's liking the MIT computer science curriculum. He has a black-belt in Google-fu now, and that's speeding up the learning process. He's not doing so hot on freezer burn, but he can stomach smoothies of chunkier consistencies. Chunky is totally a technical term, by the way."
"Of course, it is," said Tony indulgently.
"SHIELD strong-armed me into doing Steve's medical," Bruce went on. "It was very comprehensive. NFL players probably go through something similar."
"Medical with an eye on extreme fitness, eh?" said Tony.
"Yep," said Bruce. "On a related note: SHIELD is strongly encouraging me to get my medical license. They also want me to read up on sports medicine. No offense to those in the field, they do good work I'm sure, but my brain and free will feels violated."
"I'll have JARVIS send you a metric ton of junk food so you can scrub the filth from your brain," said Tony, grinning.
"Oh, thank you," said Bruce, grinning back. "I'm going to need it. Steve transcribed Erskine's private notes for me, and it's Candyland redux."
Tony, as expected, gaped.
"Brucie, don't lie to me. How can Rogers memorize all the instructions when he doesn't have a science background, and even if he did, science back in his day hadn't yet made all the necessary discoveries?"
"I'm more bewildered at Erskine for developing the serum seemingly without the necessary science knowledge than I am of him finding a way to let Steve know without, you know, him knowing," said Bruce.
"You're overdoing the 'knows'. So how did it happen? Gimme."
Bruce took in a breath. "You know the problem with the Super Soldier Serum was never genetics, right?"
"It's an epigenetics problem, sure," said Tony, nodding. "Most bodies know to create the components of an arm. It's in the assembly where we have a thousand complaints. Therefore the key is in the higher level instructions."
"Yep. Now suppose the serum is a set of epigenetic-level instructions," Bruce said. "Since it's more abstract, you could write something that a non-expert can understand and memorize, but an expert can translate. Like, say, a poem," Bruce eagerly took out the notes Steve wrote for him in beautiful cursive. "That's exactly what Erskine gave to Steve. Just listen to the first stanza:
'My letter to thee, Oh humanity,
for that day when you can
read the words and letters and stories of life'."
There was a stunned silence.
"F#* H$^," said Tony, awed. "Obviously the 'words' are DNA/RNA, letters are proteins and stories are … ohmygod, how long is the poem?"
"With Steve's tiny cursive, ten standard A-size printer pages," said Bruce. "Long, but nothing an ambitious student can't handle. Now check this out: Erskine wrote the poem in Yiddish, English, and German, and let Steve see it once. Keyword 'see' and 'once'. He read it out loud for Steve to appreciate. Also: Steve is fluent in English, duh, proficient in 1940s spoken German and knows a smattering of Yiddish because of WWII. He didn't acquire the latter two languages until a year after the read-through post-serum. But he was still able to give me the original verse and translation. JARVIS assures me the translation is accurate."
Tony picked up the significance immediately.
"This means he retroactively recalled words heard prior to actually learning the language itself, and was able to accurately infuse meaning to that phonetic memory without time-related distortion…"
"…And this kind of cognitive ability no normal person could possibly replicate, therefore super-soldier serum may have acted as a catalyst if not the cause." Bruce sat back and sighed. "The serum really is the pinnacle of scientific achievement. I could study this for the rest of my life and not even scratch the surface."
"And all we've been doing with the recipients is using them as speedy beefcakes. It's a travesty," Tony gripped.
"Preach," Bruce sighed.
"So what are you gonna do?" Tony asked.
"I'm working on translating the notes to a proper genome. I'm also reading anything new on the super-soldier serum I can get my hands on. The most promising papers I've read so far are by Maya Hansen. Her research on multi-host viral carriers was particularly inspired. Have you heard of her?"
"Name rings a bell," said Tony, scrunching his face. "Met her back in 1999 at a conference in Switzerland. I think she's a … botanist?"
"Doubt it, since she has a doctorate in gene therapy," said Bruce, smirking.
"Oh. Well. I definitely recall sleeping with her after dinner," Tony said.
Bruce groaned and covered his face. "Okay. That's more than I ever wanted to know about you and Dr. Hansen."
Tony smirked briefly. Then his expression turned into a genuine smile.
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself there," he remarked.
Bruce looked down, embarrassed. "I really can't complain. Thank you for everything."
"It's nothing. I hate seeing brilliant minds criminally underused. Go crazy, Bruce, and tell me all about it."
"I'll do my best. Oh! Speaking of which, Steve and I might stay in DC for three months."
Tony eyebrows ascended to his hairline.
"DC? Why the hell do you need to go to DC?"
"There are some guys in NIH, Hopkins and Georgetown University I want to talk to, and Steve needs to meet up with his SHIELD-issued trainer."
"Oh, that's okay, then," said Tony, looking a bit miffed. "I might stop by. SHIELD contracted me to do Helicarrier repairs. Well, not me, exactly, but Stark Industries. Which is essentially me. They also ordered twelve more hover elements. Six hundred million dollars apiece, no joke. So who is the trainer?"
"SHIELD's Strike team leader. This guy named Brock. Brock Rumlow."
"Never heard of him. Any good?"
"Fury said he's good."
"Which I suppose is good enough," Tony sniffed. "Just in case, confirm with Agent Romanoff or Agent Legolas."
"Will do," said Bruce.
At that moment, a familiar female voice exclaimed: 'Tony!'
"Shit, that's Pepper," said Tony, looking back. "Talk to you later. Cao!"
Tony blew a very loud kiss and then his projection winked out.
Bruce exhaled in the silence that followed. The lab was almost too quiet after Tony Stark and his particular brand of loud. For several minutes, Bruce just slouched in his chair and blinked at nothing in particular. Then he gathered himself and resumed his studying of Steve's MRI images.
He perhaps stared at it for another ten seconds when Steve stood next to him.
"You've been staring at those pictures all morning," Steve remarked.
"I keep finding new things to look at," said Bruce.
Steve smiled a little. "What do you see?"
"Secrets of the human body in general, and yours in particular," Bruce replied without thinking. Then he blushed. "Sorry, that sounds creepy, doesn't it?"
"If I thought you had bad motives, then perhaps," said Steve softly.
Bruce looked down at his feet. There were so many things he wanted to say but wasn't sure he should. Steve may unflinchingly accept suffering that would leave lesser mortals a quivering wreck, but Bruce didn't think a human being could stand too much of it. But where did the line between kindness and honesty lie? Captain America would have told Bruce that, surely, but what was Bruce to do when he was trying to find that line for Steve?
"Tell me," Steve said. "Tell me what you can see what others would, too."
Bruce wanted to laugh. Of course, Captain America would show him the way, even now.
"The serum changed you a lot," Bruce began. "But a lot of things … stayed the same. And not all of these are what I expected. And there are things I wouldn't have noticed without an in-depth view."
Steve nodded.
"It's probably gonna take another decade or two before our human genome knowledge and protein recombination skills are up to par to recreate the serum," Bruce went on. "But knowing what we know now, plus what you let me know, a lot of people will feel like it's just out of reach."
Steve nodded again.
"And some evil people may try to experiment because of that," Bruce whispered. "Recipient information is just as important as drug information, you know. There're significant differences between you and the other known serum recipients, including the knock-out versions. If someone with solid anatomy knowledge sees these images, they will find it out. That means …"
"We can't let them know," Steve said. "Or the little guys will suffer."
"The children, particularly girls, or the deathly ill or profoundly injured. Or all of the above," Bruce finished.
Silence reigned.
"I won't let that happen," said Steve fiercely. "Not on my watch."
Bruce nodded. "And I'm gonna help you."
Steve smiled lopsidedly. "Thank you."
The two of them stood in companionable silence.
"I'm going to tell SHIELD that I shrink," Steve said.
Bruce stared at him. "Why?"
"Any team I join needs to know my assets and liabilities. If I change in the middle of a mission without warning, it may compromise my teammates. I can't have that."
"What if they use the knowledge against you?"
Steve smiled grimly. "I just have to be too strong and fast for them to engage."
"Would they let you get that powerful?" Bruce mused. "You're useful to them as you are, and they might want to keep you there for control purposes."
"Oh, they might," Steve agreed. "But I'm betting the sciencey guys will let me. If there's one thing I know about scientists and engineers, they wanna know how far things can be pushed."
Bruce smiled wryly at the truth of this.
"Besides, a film guy made a Captain America movie showing my shrinking abilities back in the forties. I'm sure SHIELD knows all about it."
Bruce jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth and palmed his face.
"Oh, god, what were they thinking?"
"Clearly not about stealth," said Steve dryly. "It was a terrible movie, by the way. Don't watch it."
Bruce nodded with his face schooled to a serious expression. In his head, however, he was screaming: A Terrible Captain America Movie with Steve in it? Must. Watch.
But how to find the movie? It was made in the forties, so it must be in newsreel format. Bruce was pretty sure the movie wasn't digitized, at least not yet, so there was little chance he'd find it on the Internet. Which meant …
…It was time to schedule a phone call with Pepper Potts.
oooo
Sometime after Steve confessed to being a profound Sherlock Holmes geek, Bruce had called Pepper Potts to ask her about Tony's radio silence.
"He's in his workshop, probably," Pepper sighed.
"Is he alright?"
"I don't know. He's been off since the alien invasion, but then again, he just fought in an alien invasion. He just might be reacting to that."
Not for the first time, Bruce felt grateful for not remembering anything the Other Guy did.
"Anything I can do?" Bruce asked.
"If you can talk to him and lure him out of his hole, please do," said Pepper. "Now enough about Tony. How are you? How is Steve doing with College Applications?"
"I'm good. Steve is struggling."
"Why? His personal accomplishments are without peer! The President of United States is probably willing to write a letter of recommendation! What's the trouble?"
Bruce smiled wryly. "Did you know online college application DOB dropdown lists don't go as far as 1922?"
Pepper groaned. "Of course, it's the stupid stuff."
"To be fair, I don't think there's a lot of ninety-year-olds who are trying to get into college," said Bruce. "But this we can resolve. Getting a copy of Steve's high school diploma, from a school that no longer exists, by the way, is trickier, and I have no idea how we're going to solve that."
"I know who we can ask," said Pepper.
"We'd be lost without you, Pepper," said Bruce fervently. "Now back to problems. You would think having 'decorated war hero', 'Winner of Medal of Honor', 'Instrumental in ending WWII', and 'just recently led a team that repelled an alien invasion' on your resume would make writing a college application essay easy-peasy. Until you realize you have to, you know, actually write the damn essay and make it sound believable."
"That's why we need to call President Ellis to vouch for Steve," said Pepper sensibly.
"And here I was thinking we're adding Ellis to the list for name-dropping," said Bruce. "Speaking of which, Steve doesn't think his war efforts are relevant, since, I quote, none of them demonstrates my ability to succeed in college."
Pepper chuckled. "He's too honest."
"Mmmhmm. I need to talk to Steve on how to hack and bullshit one's way through college in order to enjoy life and get awesome grades. Don't worry, I'll be very sneaky."
Since then, Bruce and Pepper called each other regularly to update their goings on. Bruce dangled Science in front of Tony to lure him out of his cocoon, Pepper used her Junior PAs to resolve Steve's unique college application difficulties, and they told each other what they did. These conversations were generally pleasant and non-confrontational.
Then Bruce asked Pepper what was Tony's deal for/against Captain America.
"Why do you ask?" said Pepper. She didn't look guarded or ruffled, but then again, she was always so poised.
"It seems like he can't help but take a piss at Steve like every other sentence, even when he's going out on a limb to help," said Bruce. "Steve's good about it, but it's gotta grate. And some of the stuff he says is really cruel."
"I know," Pepper sighed. "Look, I can't excuse him, but he has his reasons."
"I figured," said Bruce calmly. "Just would like to know what they are, so I can run interference."
"You're a good man, Bruce."
"I try to be."
"That's all that matters, sometimes," said Pepper. Then she sighed. "It's like this: Tony's father—Howard Stark—spent four decades looking for Captain America. Four Decades."
Bruce felt his eyes go wide.
"He privately funded search expeditions to the Arctic," Pepper went on. "Year after year a team would go and look for the body, but return empty-handed." A pause. "Then Howard died. Obadiah Stane took over as interim CEO, and the first he did—with Tony's approval— was cut the Arctic search funding. So the expeditions stopped. Years passed. Then SHIELD finds Steve, and the next thing we know, Tony joins the same team as Captain America to fight aliens."
Bruce didn't know what to say.
"It's all so complicated and mysterious," said Pepper. "I don't know why Howard Stark kept looking. I don't think anyone does. None who's alive, at any rate. All I know is, Tony grew up thinking his dad was more interested in a dead man than he was interested in own son, and nothing he did or accomplished was going to change that. Then he actually meets the man, and sort-of-kind-of sees why Howard did what he did."
Bruce, impossibly, felt even more speechless after this.
"It's really not fair," said Pepper sadly. "To Tony or Steve. I was afraid to meet Steve, you know, though I couldn't say why. I guess I was afraid to like him—or hate him. Anything but have an opinion." She sighed. "Then I actually met him, and now if there's anything I can do to make him happy, I'll do it. And if there's anything I can do to seriously hurt the people who made him fight again, I'll do it, too."
That broke Bruce out of his stupor.
"Yeah. Yeah, me too."
The tone of Bruce and Pepper's phone conversations changed since then. For one thing, it included mutually abusing the persons who contributed to— or were currently contributing to— Steve's unspoken misery and Tony's Tony-ness. Bruce didn't remember how it came up, or who brought it up, let alone why, but Bruce learned Pepper Potts had access to Howard Stark's Captain America collection in New York (he assumed a day of Howard abuse brought it up). Anyway, according to JARVIS, it had every item related to Captain America in existence (probably).
This meant it would also have all the feature films, including the movie Steve mentioned.
"Oh, I know that movie," said Pepper brightly when Bruce asked. "It's Captain America and his Freedom Fighters."
Bruce could tell how awful it was going to be just from the title. "How bad is it?"
"The 'Sarge' character is the only saving grace of that movie, and that's because he looks really pretty when he cries."
Bruce shivered at the promised of pure terrible. "I wanna see it."
"I'm flying to New York next week. We'll have a movie night. Thursday. Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Notes: I didn't confirm the generic college application in collegeboard lets one go as far as 1922. I assumed it didn't. Bad fanfic writer!
