Steve was met by Agent Hill when he entered SHIELD HQ early the next afternoon. He had taken extra time in his morning workout, and he had visited the coffee shop on his way to the Triskelion, knowing that no one was really waiting for him to show up.
"Captain Rogers," Hill greeted him in her accustomed manner.
"Ma'am," this was a pattern they'd developed in just the week Steve had been awake.
"Director Fury would like to speak with you."
Steve nodded. He'd been expecting this since he'd processed the events of the previous afternoon. She turned, and he followed her to the elevator, which took them to the seventieth floor.
The ride was quiet, as was the receptionist as she waved them through to Fury's actual office, which took up a good portion of the floor. White, bright ambient light shone from the window-walls and was reflected from every surface in the room, except from the Director of SHIELD, who sat in his dark coat and eye patch as always.
He stood when they entered the room. "Cap, good to see you again."
"Colonel," Steve saluted his commanding officer. He'd only spoken to Fury once after waking up, and that was to be told he was being moved to Washington D.C. from New York.
"I hear that one of our doctors has overstepped his bounds concerning you." Fury walked around his desk and stood in front of Steve and Agent Hill. "Maybe it seems like too little too late, but I'd like to formally apologize on behalf of SHIELD."
"The doctor told me he was under orders from you, directly, sir." Steve definitely remembered that conversation.
…My name is Dr. Rouldkin, Captain Rogers, so great to meet with you. I'll be in charge of conducting your examinations, and evaluating your health while you're working here. Director Fury personally assigned me, as I'm the most up-to-date regarding the Super-Soldier Serum…
Fury huffed, clearing his throat and shifting on his feet as he looked at Steve calmly, "I understand that he was not forthcoming with vital information. We made the mistake of trusting him because of his years of service, but we didn't consider the possibility that he had become obsessed with the Serum and, consequently, you. I apologize for that on behalf of SHIELD." Fury looked like he might actually be sorry, though it was tough to read his emotions.
"Apology accepted, Sir." Steve knew that trusting your people was part of being a leader. In an organization as large as SHIELD, it could be easy for one or two bad eggs to go unnoticed.
"That's not all I called you up here for," Fury went back to his desk, and gestured for Steve to have a seat. "Agent Hill, that will be all."
"Yes Sir," she said quietly, and left the room.
Sitting across from Fury, Steve could feel the power the man held over one of the strongest secret organizations in the world. Fury was gazing at the desk, as though contemplating his words. Steve waited for the older man to speak.
"It has been suggested to me that you be allowed to do, quote, 'light missions' so you'll feel like you're back in the swing of things."
Steve had not expected that. "Sir?"
"You're handling the transition well, and while I trust my people as professionals," Fury raised his eyebrow and looked at Steve, who nodded, "I have to point out that they have not met with you many times,, which most would call insufficient data for a solution. Hence, I'm going to another source." He paused and turned to look out the window.
Steve stayed quiet, his mind racing with the fact that he was already deemed ready for work. He wondered who the other source was. Agent Hill? Or was she the one who suggested this?
Fury looked at him intently, "I guess what I'm asking, Captain, is whether you think you're ready to be sent back into battle?"
Again, an unexpected statement. Steve considered it carefully, and tried to see all the angles. I need more time to learn the technology, that's for sure. Would I be sent out as a leader? I would need to study up on new tactics and team workings. Hell, I don't even know who the enemy is anymore. Is this a test? With a sigh, Steve knew what his answer would be.
"Sir, thank you for the consideration. I feel that I need more time to learn modern ways, and that I would be unprepared for field work at this point." He held Fury's gaze, and sensed acceptance.
Fury narrowed his eyes, holding Steve's gaze for a moment before he turned his back to look out over the Potomac River. "That is probably for the best," he said slowly. "Miss Engman, while reluctant to make a recommendation, was of the same opinion. She requested that I ask you personally, though. I believe she thinks you are more than capable of handling this century already."
Steve considered this. She spoke to Fury? When? She only met with me once, and they asked her about my operational status? Then Steve noticed that Fury seemed to be waiting for a reply.
"I think that I should have training in modern technology, Sir." Steve went with his honest opinion again.
"I agree. And Miss Engman will be your teacher, for the most part." Fury turned back to partially face Steve, "I also understand that you have found living arrangements other than the SHIELD barracks?"
"Yes Sir," Steve said. "It's not far from base, and I believe that my salary will cover the cost of rent."
Fury almost looked amused. "Yes Captain, I believe it will." Turning fully back to Steve, he nodded. "That will be all, soldier. Dismissed."
Steve saluted and walked out of the office, making his way slowly to the elevator and from there to the ground floor. He stood apart from the milling crowds, at a loss for what to do. He had around an hour still to wait for Eleanore to meet him here, and he'd already gone to the coffee shop on his way in. He decided to head to the canteen to grab lunch. He followed the short flight of stairs down to the smells of food that were wafting upwards. Steve grabbed a couple hamburgers and some fries along with a bottle of water before he turned and surveyed the room's seating. There were tables at which groups of friends sat and laughed, but there seemed to be almost no one sitting alone. That would make him stand out, and he felt a little uncomfortable about it. Steve settled for a small table with two chairs that afforded a view of the room, situated as it was in the back corner. As he walked there, agents and workers stared at him with ill-concealed curiosity.
I feel like I'm back in school, only without Bucky. Steve's heart twinged painfully at the recollection of the first day he'd met his best friend.
It was lunchtime on the first day of school and the children swarmed out of the school doors, the older ones heading to their usual spots and the youngest ones forming small groups as they tried to find a place. Steve was no different, a young first-grader trying to blend in and not be noticed much. He tried to stand near a small group of children, but they took one look at his scrawny appearance and shifted away silently. Steve was alone again, holding the lunch pail his mother had packed. He wandered over to the corner of the building and sat leaning against it as he opened his lunch and ate it quickly, looking furtively around. Despite being new to school, Steve was no stranger to larger kids trying to take his food.
Having done with his lunch, Steve brushed the crumbs from his pants and stood to go back inside. He had almost reached the door when derisive laughter drifted across the yard.
Steve knew that kind of mirth, and he knew it belonged to the kids a few years older than he was. Without thinking much about it, he turned and headed in the direction of the noise.
Heading through the various play groups, Steve first glimpsed a small crowd gathered around near the playground's fence. Sounds of a scuffle came from within, along with intermittent cheers, jeers, and yelling. He shifted and nudged his way through the other children until he came upon a a gang of older boys trying to grab the lunch pail of a boy in Steve's class. As Steve reached the front, he saw one of the larger bullies land a punch on the younger boy's face, knocking him into an undignified sprawl in the dirt.
"Hey!" Steve tried to make his voice sound much larger than he was as he shoved himself between the boy and his assailants. "You wanna knock it off? Get your own lunch."
"Oh, looks like little Stutterfly has a friend. I'll call you Shrimp." The boys looked eager to begin on their new target, and in a moment Steve was slumped in the dirt next to the other boy, blood dripping from his nose and a bruise already forming under one eye. He tried to block the hits, but they were from too many sources. Eventually, he settled for punching back wherever he could, his small fists barely finding purchase on the stronger bodies of his attackers.
Finally, distantly, the school bell rang, ordering all the children back inside for continued lessons. The larger boys left quickly, anxious to avoid scrutiny. Steve and his classmate were left to brush off the dust from the skirmish in comparative peace.
Steve looked at the boy next to him as he stood. He looked less injured than Steve felt, but then, Steve had drawn their anger where this boy had only drawn their greed. Nevertheless, a purple bruise was sprouting along his cheekbone and his face and clothes were covered in dirt. He looked back at Steve with a friendly half-grin.
"T-those guys are jerks," he said, ruffling his shirt to get the dust out of it.
"Yeah," Steve remarked. "Hungry jerks."
The boy laughed, "My n-name's Barnes. J-james B-bu-buchanan Barnes. But e-everyone calls me Bucky."
"Steve Rogers," Steve replied. The two boys solemnly shook hands as they'd seen their parents do. Then they smiled at each other.
"We better head back inside. Already late on the first day." Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders and together they sauntered into the building.
As they were reaching the door, Bucky turned to Steve and said, "L-listen, let's have lunch together t-t-tomorrow. Maybe they w-won't pick on us if we're not a-a-alone."
"Okay," Steve replied.
"Captain Rogers?" the tentative voice startled Steve out of his reverie. He looked up to see a tall, thin man with a shock of dark curly hair. He was young, startlingly so. Steve thought he couldn't be more than eighteen years-old. He wore white tennis shoes, blue jeans, and a dark blue, short-sleeved button up shirt.
"Yes," Steve replied, standing up and holding his hand out. "And you are?"
"Darren Stark," the young man shook Steve's hand with a firm grip. Steve did a double-take at the name.
"Stark? As in… Howard Stark?" Steve reexamined him, noting the similarities. Dark hair, intelligent eyes, slim build… much taller, though. And more... modest? Quiet.
"Yeah, heh, he was my grandfather." The youngest Stark grinned up at him, "And Tony is my dad. But I… I thought Eleanore mentioned me to you yesterday?"
Realization hit Steve, along with memories of their conversation the day before. "… works with his dad's company sometimes… a genius…"
Meanwhile, Darren was still talking, looking at him with a little apprehension. "She said she told you about me, anyway. She asked me to show you around SHIELD until she's done with classes today. I-if you're interested." He smiled sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable.
Steve knew the feeling of discomfort that came with meeting new people. "Of course. Let me throw this away," he gestured to the remains of his lunch, "and we can get started."