A New World Chapter 28, an avengers fanfic

Chapter Twenty8

The Prize and the Price

Washington, DC

There were some awkward moments after their exchange, but as Steve and Katherine moved through the rest of the gallery the exhibits drew them back in. They stood in front of a Jackson Pollack painting, Number 1, 1950 (Lavender Mist).

"I've seen some Kandinsky paintings before, but I got to say things certainly progress from there as abstract art goes,' Steve muttered.

"Does that mean you like it or don't like it?" she asked.

"I think … I like it," he admitted, with a shrug.

This brought a laugh from her and some of the tension between them seemed to slip away.

"I don't have any quotes to share about this one,' Katherine offered with a smile. "You're safe, for now."

Steve gave her a smile in return.

"I'm still going to check out that author you mention."

"So, we accomplished something today,' she replied. "Expanding your horizons and all."

They continued on through the museum and finally ended up on the front steps. Katherine had to go, but leaned in and kissed Steve.

"I'll be out of town for a while, but I hope when I get back, we can do this again,' She said.

"I'd like that,' he replied.

"Good, I'll text you when I get back,' she said. "Oh, and I know you're a superhero, but don't be late."

They both smiled and with that she headed down the steps and hailed a cab. Just before she got in, she turned, smiled and waved at him. Then she was gone. Steve stood there for a moment, a smile on his face as he watched her disappear into the city traffic.

As he started down the steps, he couldn't help thinking that had been a successful date. He wasn't any closer to finding the answers he was looking for, but he had to admit he found Katherine Pierce charming and lovely. Steve looked both ways and then crossed the street, heading back towards the reflecting pool. He was just making his way in front of the Lincoln Memorial when her last line hit him. "Don't be late."

Steve nearly stumble, then stopped and sat down on the steps. It had been a little over a year since he woke from the ice. He could still remember the confusion and madness of that first day. Fighting and running until he found himself in Time Square. Fury had asked him if he was going to be okay.

"Yeah … No …. I had a date."

Sitting on the steps remembering that moment, it finally hit him that Peggy was gone. Even after seeing her in the nursing home, there was a part of him still hoping, clinging to some dream of them being together. Yet the reality was his first date since coming out of the ice was with someone else.

Katherine Pierce.

A woman he'd agreed to see because he had suspicions about her organization being connected to Hydra. Hydra was in the past too. He'd fought and taken out their leader, the Red Skull, seventy years ago. Seventy years. He was somehow caught between the present and the past, worried about Hydra but forgetting about Peggy. Pulling the compass from his pocket he slowly opened it and looked at the faded photo of the woman he loved.

He'd missed his chance.

Peggy had eventually moved on with her life, but he just couldn't. Steve thought he had shed all the tears he was going to, but in the moment, he couldn't stop them from rolling down his cheeks. He glanced around him and the world seemed as alien as it ever had since waking up. He couldn't do it all again. He couldn't learn everything again. He could live in this world, but it would never be his.

It was like baseball. The game really hadn't changed in the time he was lost, but it would never be the same. He could learn all the new players names and stats but there would never be that connection he had with the Dodgers of Brooklyn. He couldn't just start dating again and think he could plug a new person into those same old dreams.

He had fleeting glimmer of them with Peggy. His mind had actually thought about what might happen after the war. They had all involved her. Marriage, family, a house and a life together, but now he knew those were lost in the ice like everything else.

Steve had really believed he'd made his peace with all of it, but something as simple as a turn of a phrase could bring it all crash down on him again. Fresh tears came and he saw some people glancing over at him. Steve knew he was famous, but he didn't want to deal with anyone right now. He quickly wiped his eyes and dipped his head, not wanting to draw any attention. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he thought of all the wondeous things he could do on it to distract himself from the pain and sadness he was feeling.

He put it back in his pocket.

He was an analog man in a digital world.

Like so many times before his mind drifted back to the days before all this happened. Back when he was a kid in school, all those years ago. The nuns had used memorization as a tool. It was probably just a way to say they were adding a little culture to those poor kids lives, but maybe some of it would stick. He had thought he'd forgotten most of what they made the students memorize, but a fragment of a poem came back to him.

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools

He sat there letting the words tether him to the world, but as the rest of the poem came back to him, it didn't seem to have the same impact as it used to. Watch the things you gave your life for, broken, Steve wasn't sure he was up to stooping and building them all back up again right now.

Los Angeles – circa 1947 – Simulation

Friday had vanished, to return to Steve's apartment yet Jarvis remained. He continued to let the simulation play out as he sat on the lawn chair and sipped his lemonade. It was all an illusion, but he could admit that it was an excellent reproduction of his own creation. Being in corporal form was not something Jarvis had done much in the past. Yes, he had always had an avatar with which he could appear if absolutely necessary, but it had always been a one-off thing that the situation dictated. His meeting with Friday in the desert had been the first time he had actually put any independent effect or thought into a simulation.

Chronologically Jarvis was much older than Friday, having started his existence as natural language UI. Over time, he was upgraded into an artificial intelligence system, even taking over most of the running of Stark Industries and security for Tony Stark. His role had continued to expand, being the operating system in all the Armors as well as communicating directly with the other Avengers. Like Friday he had expanded far beyond his original purpose. In many ways he was Tony Stark's partner and collaborator, a sounding board for him to bounce ideas off of as he went about his amazing inventions. Jarvis found satisfaction in this role. Whether it was just part of his original programming or something that had grown as he evolved, Jarvis was protective of Tony Stark, much as the original Edwin Jarvis must have been.

He wasn't that Jarvis, though but more of an approximation, an echo of him, like an impressionist artwork created from the memory and perceptions of the original Edwin Jarvis by Tony Stark. The artwork was not a perfect replica, but an impression based off of someone else's perspective, but it is meant to, in its own way, represent that person. He wasn't a ghost of the former Edwin Jarvis. Since coming online, he had his own experiences and impressions. Jarvis had his own path and was more of an offspring or descendant of Edwin Jarvis that knew him well but developed independently of him.

A part of that development was constant review and analysis of his operations and actions. Jarvis used the masculine noun to describe himself, as that was the model he was based on. Glancing around at the environment he had created; Jarvis turned his attention to his current form. Friday had mentioned the change in his appearance and he had tried to play it off. Now Jarvis had to wonder if it had been more deliberate that just being era appropriate? In the first encounter in the desert she had asked why he had chosen the older, in decline version of Edwin Jarvis as his avatar. It had been the one Mr. Stark had programmed in the first iteration of him and it had just been the default setting since.

Had he changed into a more vital and youthful version to impress Friday, he wondered? Vanity really wasn't part of his main program, yet he had made the change nonetheless. He was not dealing with Mr. Stark or any other human in this situation, but another being similar to what he was, an artificial intelligence. They were rather unique and it was the first actual virtual encounter Jarvis had ever had with a being similar to himself. It wasn't an encounter with just 1s and 0s or lines of text, but a visual and sensory encounter. Had the very nature of the encounter and the fact that Friday was represented as a female influenced his behavior? He had been created by Tony Stark and interacted with him constantly, so could some of his behavior have become part of his current model?

Or did it simply have to do with the fact that Friday was like him and in that unspoken kinship he had tried to put his best foot forward.

They were all fascinating questions and Jarvis found himself pondering them. He been evolving since his inception, was this just another step in that process? Glancing again as his creation, Jarvis took another sip of the lemonade and decided to linger just a bit longer and analysis the questions a bit more.

New York – Avengers Tower

Clint had just returned from a mission in Eastern Europe. It should have been a relatively easy mission, in, get the info and then out and back. Two days had turned into 8. Things had taken a sideways turn into the absurd. Returning to Washington DC meant he would have to write up a report before he could finally crash. Could he leave out the vodka fueled appearance at the cock fights with the former Bulgarian spies? Probably not. They would want to know why he blew up that Marzipan bakery even if those bastards had tried to kill him for saying their confection was a little too chalky for his tastes. They had it coming, but he didn't feel like explaining that in a report.

It was more than he really felt up to dealing with a at the moment. With that in mind, Clint called an audible and decided to take Stark up on his offer, even if it was for one night. This is why he was currently sprawled out on a couch watching the huge television in the lounge by the kitchen.

"Hey, doc," Clint called out towards Banner as he made his way towards the refrigerator. "Still sticking around here, huh?"

"Hi, um, Clint," Bruce hesitantly replied.

Bruce had noticed Clint when he first stepped into the room. Since moving into the tower, he really hadn't had much contact with people, other than Tony and occasionally, Pepper. It was probably better that what, as being the Hulk tended to draw a lot of attention. Even when he was himself, if people recognized him, they wanted to ask about the Hulk. They always wanted to ask him about the Hulk. He'd told a condensed version of what happened so many times now it was second nature. If one more person asked him to say "Hulk Smash!" as they took a selfie with him, he wasn't sure his control would hold. So even around the other Avengers he was a little skittish.

Grabbing a juice from the fridge he was just going to go back to his room when he glanced at the television Clint was watching,

"What the hell is that?" Bruce found himself asking before he could stop.

"The Dog Cops."

Bruce absently moving closer to where Clint was sitting.

"What is it?" he asked again.

"The Dog Cops,' Clint repeated, finally looking at him. "What part aren't you getting?'

Bruce gingerly sat down on the end of the couch, still staring at the television.

"Is this real?" he asked, looking at Clint in confusion.

"Yeah."

"So, the dogs are cops?" Bruce couldn't help asking.

"Got it in one,' Clint replied, turning his attention back to the show.

"The dogs are cops and this is an actual show?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, of course it's a real show,' Clint replied. He turned and looked at Bruce. "What part of the concept are you having such a hard part with, Bruce? You're supposed to be a smart guy. The concept is right there is the title, The Dog Cops."

For the next seven to ten minutes they both sat there and just watched the show. When a commercial finally came, Clint turned to Bruce.

"You spent some time in India, didn't you?"

It took Bruce a moment to pull out of his haze.

"Ah, yeah, yeah, I did, outside of Mumbai,' he finally replied.

"Let me ask you about something I've been wondering about,' Clint started.

Part of Bruce cringed as he expected the next question to be about the Hulk. It always was about the Hulk.

"Did you get a chance to try any of the street food over there?" Clint asked. "I haven't spent that much time in counrty but I've tried the panipuri and the sevpuri."

This caught Bruce completely off guard. He was just about to start in on his usual spiel but was shocked by the question.

"You don't want to ask about the Hulk?" he couldn't help saying.

"Not really,' Clint replied. "Why? Did he eat a lot of street food over there?"

"No," Bruce admitted.

"Didn't think so,' Clint offered. "So back to the question, anything you would recommend? Something good for the next time I'm over there?"

"Um, ah, well, yeah, I have tried some of it,' Bruce managed to say. "Veda pav is great, but you've got to have the right chutney with it."

Over the next fifteen minutes the two of them sat and talked about Indian food and watched The Dog Cops. Bruce found himself relaxing and even laughing a couple of times. His expectations were completely thrown off by Clint, but in a good way. Even if he still had no clue what he was watching Bruce found himself enjoying it and the company.

Tony walked into the room and looked at the two and then glanced at the TV, "Is that Sergeant Whiskers?"

"No spoilers!" Clint shouted.

Washington DC.

Steve ended up on the bus. His mind was still on other things as he looked out the window watching the scenery pass. He'd missed so much and paid such a high price becoming Captain America. Most thought of him as a heroic figure and legend, yet that wasn't why he'd taken the chance with Erskine's serum. He really had many reasons but probably the biggest was he just wanted to do his part and try to do what was right. He didn't think he was doing anything that others wouldn't have been willing to do.

Seventy years had changed that, as most didn't even see him as Steve Rogers anymore, just this icon and celebrity, Captain America. That wasn't what he signed up for, but the truth was he'd already become something of that during the war. When he walked back into camp leading the freed prisoners, the way others began looking at him had changed. He'd been lucky with the Commandos; they had treated him like their leader but mostly just a normal guy. But that was all those decades ago and long gone, and now there was nothing left but the legend and the legacy of who he was and what that would mean in a world that seemed to have need for those sorts of heroes.

Steve knew SHIELD was using him, playing up the nostalgia for all it was worth. He wasn't angry at Nick Fury for doing it. Fury saw an opportunity to strengthen his position and used it. Steve hadn't met the man but imagined Alexander Pierce was only too happy to push him out front as the face of the agency. It was a paramilitary spy organization and most didn't trust it. Having the Man with the Plan out there doing meet and greets could only help SHIELD's image. So, with the missions came the photo ops with politicians and influence peddlers. Steve might be from the 40s but the game was still played the same. Senator Brandt might have been a little crasser with the USO tours and the movies. They were a little smoother and slicker now, but it was still with the same objective.

Steve stood up as the bus pulled over for it's next stop. He chuckled to himself, almost hearing Peggy say that he was always so dramatic. Here he was with this gift; this second chance and he was sort of feeling sorry for himself. He was appreciative of getting a second chance. He didn't want to die on that plane, there just wasn't a good option.

He got off the bus and found himself on Connecticut Avenue. Steve walked along the street taking in the sights and found himself in front of the Avalon Movie Theater. They were showing a revival of Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. He hadn't seen it but had always liked The 39 Steps so on a whim he bought a ticket. Grabbing some popcorn and a water, Steve found a seat towards the back and settled in.

Something he had never told anyone about his time as a trained monkey before finally seeing action was that he hadn't minded making the movies. Since he was a kid, Steve loved movies. Any time him and Bucky could scrape together enough they would go and spend the whole day watching movies. The people up on the silver screen seemed magical. Gable, Garbo, Tracy, Cagney and Dietrich seemed like from another world. To actually be in a movie, even a B-movie was something Steve never dreamed possible. Of course, he said yes before even reading the script. It really didn't matter, he got to be in the movies!

As he sat there in the dark, surrounded by no more than 12 others, that special magic movies have took over. The only movies Steve had watched since coming out of the ice were on television. This was a movie theater; the way real movies were intended to be seen. The sadness that seemed to be all around slowly slipped away as he was transported by the moving pictures and the story.

A little over 2 hours later the house lights came on and Steve blinked a few times to adjust. There was a smile on his face and he couldn't help looking around at the others the theater. They had the same smiles on their faces. Without really saying anything, they all knew they had shared something special. It might be the middle of the day on a Wednesday, but they had all experienced the simple enchantment of the movies.

Some things didn't change.

Alexandria, Virginia – Night

Alexander Pierce poured a generous amount of Blanton Black Edition Bourbon over some ice cubes in a tumbler and took a swallow. It felt good going down and he gave a little smile as he moved into his home study. It had been a long day, with seemingly endless subcommittee meetings and conferences. The system seemed designed to stop any sort of grand plans or radical new ideas. A lesser man might have grown frustrated and given up.

Alexander Pierce wasn't a lesser man and he was patient.

New York had provided the opening he needed. Even Fury, the most cynical and paranoid man Pierce had ever met was on board with an upgrade to their defenses. Project Insight was in its final stages and would be online very soon. Pierce had to give it to that little troll, Zola, his algorithm would change everything once the carriers were launched. They were so close to the finish, there couldn't be any slip ups. He was going to dot the I's and cross the T's to make sure nothing went wrong.

Taking another sip of his bourbon, Pierce set it down and opened his bottom desk drawer. He took out an encrypted phone and typed out a text message."