June 15 2012
0854 hours
Stark Tower

I spent almost a month being trained and doing research. In that month, I still hadn't left the Hub. My few meager belongings were in a common on-call bunk and I spent most of my days with the information I was allowed to have on Captain America. In all reality, I'd locked myself in a room every day to study and learn what I needed to learn. Most of it was via an internal computer that was filled with pictures of him (that didn't let me contact the outside world, unfortunately; I even tried hacking but that was a no-go too). There wasn't much on SHIELD besides the information on how Steve became Captain America. Pictures of his life and how he became the super soldier filled the files—detailed information on the serum that a Dr. Erskine had created combined with a machine that Tony Stark's father had put together created the man I had met.

I didn't understand half of the mumbo-jumbo medical talk that filled some of the files. My youngest brother, Parker, would have jumped with joy and started spewing nerd nonsense that he knew I didn't understand.

All I could imagine the entire time I studied my subject was my picture of what I dubbed "Little Steve". I'd had it since Granddaddy Chester had passed. He'd given me the picture frame and told me to trust my heart and always protect the little guy. A little guy like the "before" Steve. Such a young man, full of hope and promise, would show the world that there was hope. That people were still good. I could imagine the articles that would be written on him, imagine the news coverage and how easy it would be to market him. (Easier than the United States Military, anyway.) There would always be dissenters in the crowd, but I had a feeling that there would be a lot less when it came to America's sweetheart Steve Rogers.

After that month of studying, I'd been released to see the world. A big black SUV and two SHIELD Agents greeted me before I was shoved into said SUV and the agents sped up. They were weaving in and out of the highways and back roads, so I knew I'd never remember how to get back to the Hub. Oh well.

On the long, three-hour drive, the men talked softly in the front seat. The last conversation went something like this: "Did you hear about that string of bank robberies down the East Coast?"

"Yeah, it was alien tech left over from the Battle of New York. They sent Sitwell out to investigate."

Sitwell—the mousey guy who rubbed me the wrong way. "For a secret intelligence agency," I said, watching as their eyes flicked to mine in the rearview, "ya'll sure do talk a lot."

They were quiet until we reached Manhattan.

Stark Tower hadn't been under construction long, but it definitely looked better than what I'd seen in pictures from directly after the aliens attacked. In fact, everything looked better. New York didn't look near as haggard as it should have been for having been attacked a little over a month before. Then again, life kept going. People worked hard and cleaned everything up—either that, or SHIELD had.

I'd mostly said "okay" to the consulting position because I wanted to keep an eye on SHIELD. That and West Point had a lot of work to get done before it was open to teaching positions again. It had lost three-fourths of its student body and over half of its staff. I had been one of the lucky ducks…if you considered outliving your students and comrades lucky. I needed something to keep me busy and if that was babysitting an Avenger, then I could do it.

Stark Tower was huge and rose up hundreds of floors into the sky. The bottom floor was filled with people running around in suits, hardhats, and lab coats. One of the strangest combinations I've ever seen.

I was stopped by a man nicknamed "Happy" on the ground floor of Stark Tower. "You Joan Phillips?" Happy asked as he looked over something on an expensive-looking tablet in front of him. It made sense that Stark employees had the best equipment.

I'll have to get used to not being called 'Captain.' "Yes sir," I said as I shifted my bag higher onto my shoulder.

He triple checked something and then held a picture of me up next to my face. Then he gave me a once-over using some kind of electronic device, only skimming my blade leg before nodding. "Of course. You'll be on the seventy-fifth floor with Rogers. Here's your badge and passcodes. Shred this as soon as it's memorized."

I looked at the information and then tore it right in front of his eyes. "Done." He raised an eyebrow but didn't do anything but keep the same, stoic expression on is face. "Any rules, regulations I need to watch out for?"

"Floors seventy-six and up are off limits," he said seriously. "Those are Mr. Stark's personal quarters. Also, levels thirty-five to sixty. Labs and such."

I nodded and put the lanyard he gave me around my neck. "Noted. If there's nothing else, it's been a long ride."

"Of course." He stepped out of the way and motioned me into the elevator. "Ask Jarvis for me if you need anything." I wasn't sure who Jarvis was but I figured that I would know sooner or later.

There was a place to put in my passcode as soon as the doors closed. It was one of the quickest, quietest rides of my life. The doors opened and I was awed. No one seemed to be home at that point in time so I took a look around.

I peered around the floor where I'd been told I'd be living. Same floor as Steve Rogers, but each of the Avengers had their own floors apparently. I only needed one room, I'd said, not an entire floor! Most of my flats throughout the years had been little holes in the wall because I was never home. I didn't need a lot of room. Tony Stark had opened his home to me once Pepper Potts had insisted on it.

The room I walked into was beautiful—huge, with multiple levels for hosting people and parties. Below were seats and tables meant for chatting. Midway up was a bar that I would stay very, very far away from. I might even get rid of what's stocked. Next to it was the kitchen, so I knew I couldn't just stay away from the alcohol. Even higher was a dance floor and more places to sit and converse with others. Everything was sleek and beautiful—and new, obviously.

"Hello, Miss Phillips," a rather humanized computer voice said from somewhere around me. I jumped but wasn't too surprised—it was Tony Stark for crying out loud. Still, I had to unclench my hands from reaching for a holster that wasn't there. "I am JARVIS, the virtual intelligence of the complex. Your living space is room 4B. Do you need assistance with your luggage?"

"Ah, Jarvis…right." I looked at the backpack and small suitcase I'd brought with me and huffed in a laugh. "No, thank you. I may need help navigatin' at some point, though."

"I am everywhere," he said simply, sounding just as close as he had when I'd been standing by the elevator but now I was by my room. "Simply ask and I will help."

I used the biometric keypad and entered the password I'd been given by Happy, gaining access to my room. I whistled—it'd been a while since I'd had such nice digs. 'A while' as in 'since I'd lived with my parents.' "Damn," I said, dropping my bag by the door. "Must be nice to be a billionaire."

The room was rather large, a bed taking up the back of the central wall. On either side of the XL King were windows that looked out onto New York from floor to ceiling—and not one of those crappy views where all you could see was the wall of the building next to it. No, this was the view that went on for miles until the fog covered the horizon. The colors were black and gold, as if playing on the Army colors. Everything looked more expensive than what I made in a year and I made a good deal. There was a large walk-in closet that I'd have to eventually fill and a bathroom that connected. I'd never been a bath-taking kind of girl but I would have to try out the jacuzzi tub at some point. The shower was big enough for five people and I was pretty sure that some of the detail on the counter was pure gold.

"Is the room to your approval, Miss Phillips?" JARVIS asked. I had a feeling he already knew.

"Definitely," I said as I went and sat down on my bed. I saw that there was a television above my door, perfect for watching if I was lying in bed. I fell back and let my muscles relax. "Where is everyone?"

"Mr. Stark and Miss Potts are off discussing the future of Stark Industries and working with the Stark Relief Foundation for those who need help after the Battle of New York. Dr. Banner is two floors below, studying astronomical processes in which very high-energy electrons are produced, that in turn cause secondary gamma rays via bremsstrahlung, inverse Compton scattering, and synchrotron radiation." I was starting to be sorry I asked. "Thor is on Asgard. Agent Barton and Romanoff are on personal leave. Captain Rogers is away at the moment."

One question had been bugging me for a very, very long time. It felt wrong to ask, but I somehow knew that JARVIS was a neutral party. "Hey, Jarvis. Does Mr. Stark know who I am?"

The virtual intelligence was quiet for a moment. "Captain Phillips, United States Army. Granddaughter of Colonel Chester Phillips. You have worked as a Public Affairs Officer since you graduated West Point in 2007. I see that you were stationed in Kunar Province, Afghanistan around the same time as Mr. Stark was abducted. I assume that you asking this question means that you met Mr. Stark while stationed there."

"You could say that," I said, looking up to the sparkling ceiling above me. I sighed in relief and realized that Tony Stark wouldn't try to rehash everything that we'd gone through almost two years before. "Nevermind, JARVIS, it doesn't matter. If he doesn't recognize me, that's all the better."

"He may ask me to look into you if he does recognize you, Captain."

"Call me Joan, JARVIS. And if he does, I don't mind. I don't have anything to hide. I can save you the trouble, though, and tell you that I was drivin' Mr. Stark's humvee when the insurgents attacked in Afghanistan. I tried to save him, even tackled him out of the way of a missile. That's how I lost my leg."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you for confiding in me." I noticed that he still hadn't called me by my first name, like I'd asked him. "Anything else you'd liked to get off your chest?"

I thought for a moment, forgetting to ask about clearing out all of the alcohol outside. "Nope, surprisingly good. You?"

"I'm just a computer program, Joan."

"Of course you are."

We'll get more Steve in the next chapter - and a lot of Steve, at that! Let me know what you think. -LCB