A/N: Sorry this took longer than I was expecting...I've been surprisingly busy.
Major Harry Shepherd waited uneasily outside Director Fury's office, wondering if at some point someone was going to tell him exactly what was going on. He was sure this couldn't be normal procedure. For weeks he'd been trying to apply for a secondment posting to SHIELD and they'd ran him through increasingly impossible tests and flight simulations, along with a barrage of personality profiles and psych evaluations that left him uncertain if he really was who he thought he was. They'd gone over his entire service record – he'd had to sit and smile while some kid barely old enough to shave questioned everything he'd ever said or did. And then there was the background checks. As far as he could tell they'd interviewed everyone he'd ever spoken to.
Joining SHIELD was evidently more difficult than he'd have imagined. And then he'd got a call in the middle of the night telling him to be ready in ten minutes and he'd been flown here by helicopter.
On the way he'd heard a radio report – apparently the Avengers were fighting some super soldier force in Los Angeles, which made it seem like a strange time for SHIELD to be conducting job interviews. Unless the situation was more serious than he imagined, and they needed every recruit they could get. That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
But he was left sitting for an hour or so, drinking what might just be the best cup of coffee he'd ever had, and it didn't feel like a military base preparing for disaster. Everyone was too calm, right up until Director Fury swept in, followed by a couple of junior agents who seemed to be desperately competing to be sure their report was the one the director heard.
Fury stopped dead on seeing him, and immediately Shepherd leapt to his feet, struggling to dispose of the coffee cup quickly enough to salute.
"Director Fury, sir," he said smartly.
"Major Shepherd," Fury said, inclining his head. "Come in. Take a seat." He turned back towards the agents. "You, come back when you agree on something."
"Yes sir," they chorused.
"Thank you sir," Shepherd said, following Fury into the office. He sat; Fury stood behind his desk, towering over him.
"So. You know why you're here?" Fury asked.
He hesitated. "My application for a transfer to SHIELD - "
" - irrelevant," Fury said dismissively. "You're a distinguished USAF pilot. You've flown more than eighty successful missions over Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya, several of them so classified it too me almost half an hour to get the details. You have numerous citations for bravery, including the Bronze Star and the Distinguished Flying Cross."
"Yes sir," Shepherd agreed, when he paused.
"You have the highest recorded scores in three of our flight tests and the second highest in the fourth," Fury went on. "Your friends and fellow officers say you're a good team player, capable of adapting and fitting in under almost any circumstances." He paused, looking at Shepherd steadily. "Well, that's good. Because these are going to be exceptionally difficult circumstances."
"Sir?" he asked curiously.
Fury moved out from behind the desk and stood facing the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "You might be aware that Tony Stark was injured six weeks ago."
"Yes sir," he agreed. It had been plastered all over the news. In fact the story was still brought up every time Stark Industries, or the Avengers were mentioned, and especially by Senator Boynton in his continuing campaign to make sure that the Avengers in general, and Iron Man in particular, were better regulated. And not that he was anxious to mention it around here, but the Senator might have a point. After all, an experienced military pilot might well have managed to avoid making Stark's mistakes.
"If Mr Star recovers, it is likely to be a long and arduous process. At this time no one is able to take up the duties of Iron Man, and Iron Man is vital to Earth's defences."
"isn't there another one?" Shepherd interjected. He was sure he remembered something about that.
Fury glared at him, but chose to answer. "War Machine is currently on assignment and cannot be easily reached," he said. "Mr Stark has agreed to supply Iron Man armour to whoever I chose to replace him." He turned round slowly. "And I've chosen you."
For a moment he couldn't do anything but sit and stare. "What?" he asked, incredulously.
"I want you to join the Avengers Initiative as the new Iron Man," Fury said clearly.
"Sir..." He floundered for a second. "This is obviously a great honour, but is this...I mean, am I really the best candidate?"
"Yes you are," Fury said assuredly. "For various reasons I've found it...advisable...to select someone from outside the official SHIELD hierarchy. And I'm afraid I can't give you much time to think about it. I need an answer now." He gazed at Shepherd expectantly.
Become one of Earth's greatest heroes? Really, there was only one answer. "I accept, sir," he said.
Fury nodded like he wasn't surprised. "Now, this may yet prove to be a temporary assignment, in which case there is a place waiting for you in SHIELD. We'll regularly review the situation. Your first priorities are to cooperate with Stark in building your new armour, and to integrate into your new team. You'll see Captain Rogers for your orders."
"Captain America?" He sounded just a little more breathless than he'd really like.
Fury smiled humourlessly. "That's right. Welcome to the Avengers. I'll call a meeting within the next few days to get you formally introduced to the rest of the team, but I want you to go see Stark right away."
"Now, sir?" he questioned, involuntarily glancing at his watch. "It wasn't even four in the morning. "Isn't Stark..." He hesitated, not finding a tactful way to say injured and at death's door.
With a heavy sigh, Fury sat down behind his desk, his hands steepled. "Mr Stark was not happy to allow anyone else the use of the Iron Man technology," he said. "I want to get moving on this as fast as possible. Before he changes his mind."
Shepherd bit his tongue, careful not to ask the questions he was dying to. There was a limit to how far a man should question his superiors. But from what he knew of SHIELD, he was surprised that they let a civilian – even one as important as Tony Stark – get away with being obstructive like that. More than that, though, he found it repellent that Stark would even think about hoarding technology that could save lives, but he supposed that was par for the course.
"I see, sir," he said instead.
"Good, Fury said, nodding sharply. "Stark is a brilliant man, but don't expect him to make this easy for you. Now get going."
He headed for the door and stopped when he heard Fury's voice calling after him. "Major Shepherd."
"Sir?" He turned.
"These are some incredibly large shoes you're trying to fill," Fury said coolly. "Remember that."
Right.
Ninety minutes later he was looking up at the tower and the large sign saying Avengers. That wasn't exactly subtle, by his way of thinking. But when he thought about what it stood for...Earth's greatest heroes were based under this roof. And now, somehow, he was one of them.
There was a concierge on duty when he walked in. He'd half been expecting it all to be roboticised, but instead he was looking at a very attractive woman.
"Major Shepherd to see Tony Stark," he said, and winced as his voice echoed loudly in the empty foyer.
Her nose wrinkled as she checked her computer. "Mr Stark is not currently taking appointments," she said. "Especially at this hour."
"I was told to come over by Director Fury," he offered. "From SHIELD."
"Major Shepherd is expected, Miss Rand," a smooth English voice announced from the intercom. "Please issue him with a blue pass and send him up to the penthouse."
"Of course, Jarvis," she nodded. "Major Shepherd, if you could just put your thumb here...and sign here..." He did as he was told. "Okay, here's your pass. Please take the elevator up to the twenty ninth floor and someone will meet you there and take you to the private elevator."
"There's no way straight up?" he asked, surprised.
She regarded him coolly. "Not from here," she explained.
He supposed that made sense.
He was met on the twenty ninth floor by a drop dead gorgeous red head in an obviously expensive tailored business suit, looking like she hadn't even noticed it was half five in the morning, and still dark out. If nothing else, Stark obviously had a great taste in employees.
"Major Shepherd, I'm Pepper Potts," she introduced herself. "I'm here to take you to see Mr Stark. If you'd like to follow me, please?"
"You know, Mr Stark didn't have to send you down here," he said, hurrying to catch up with her. "I'm sure I could have found my own way up."
"Through our security?" She shot him a smile. "Not unless you have much more infiltration experience than your file suggests."
The secretary had read his file. Okay. "I don't see any security," he said, as much to get a reaction as anything else.
"Hawkeye says that's the best kind," she returned.
He was going to have to get used to a world where people name dropped superheroes.
The rest of trip was in silence as Shepherd looked around the building in amazement. It really was spectacular. Everything looked hi tech and luxurious, like an evil overlord's lair in a sci fi movie.
"And here we are," Pepper said, as they walked out into a large airy apartment, which appeared to have been transformed into a hospital, judging by the equipment lying around, and the harried looking nurse glaring at Miss Potts. What money could buy, he supposed, though why Stark didn't just go to one of those fancy private hospitals he'd never know.
"Mr Stark is supposed to be resting," the nurse announced loudly.
"Welcome to my world," Potts said under her breath, obviously not meaning anyone to hear. "I know, Elise. As soon as he's seen Major Shepherd."
"You know, I could come back," he offered. "I mean, I know what Director Fury said, but obviously I don't want to do anything that risks Mr Stark's recovery."
Potts shot him an odd, appraising glance, like she was reconsidering him. But all she said was. "He wants to see you. This way, please, Major."
Shepherd had met Tony Stark before, years ago, long before the Avengers, Iron Man or any of that. He'd been a very junior officer at a new missile system demonstration. Stark had been loud and arrogant, but there had been a charismatic confidence there that had made it impossible not to fall under his spell. There had been some question Shepherd had asked. Something about the targeting system, and Stark had smiled straight at him, conspiratorially, and said he was glad someone had the brains to ask, and he'd gone on to explain how, thanks to his genius, they'd be able to cycle through targets faster and more accurately than ever before. And thing was, he'd been right. Shepherd couldn't count the number of times that had made all the difference in a fire fight. When he'd heard Stark had gone missing in Afghanistan, he'd been genuinely saddened and shaken up, and they'd all drank to Stark's memory in the Officer's Mess that night, certain that the man's body would surface eventually.
But instead Stark had returned and there'd been that press conference. Stark Industries wasn't building any more weapons. The new planes coming off the production line didn't have that new missile targeting system that Shepherd found so valuable. Oh, they had something similar, designed and manufactured by Justin Hammer, ironically, but it wasn't the same and it wasn't as good and everyone knew it. And in every branch of the service it was the same. No more Stark weapons left them struggling to find even half way acceptable replacement. Stark made the best; it had been one more edge for the US over its enemies at a time when it needed all the edges it could get.
Tony Stark's pacifism cost lives. That was the God's honest truth.
Still, Shepherd found it difficult to relate the man lying in the hospital bed in front of him to the exuberant man he'd admired at the demonstration, or even the older haunted-looking man he'd been so angry with after the press conference.
This Stark was pale, thin and drawn, with dark shadows under his eyes, covered with wires and tubes, plaster and metal immobilising his left arm and everything up to his waist.
He swallowed hard, trying not to let his shock show. This was just like visiting someone in the VA hospital, he told himself. Didn't matter whether you liked them or not, the important thing was to act normal and not show any pity.
"Mr Stark," he said, walking up to the bed, his hand extended. "It's good of you to see me at this hour."
Stark made no attempt to take his hand. "So. You're the best Fury could find to replace me? Right. How old are you anyway. Eighteen?"
"I'm twenty six, sir," he said stiffly. "I'm an experienced combat pilot who - "
" - engineering?" Stark interrupted rudely.
He blinked, floundering. "What?"
"Mr Stark would like to know if you have any engineering experience," Potts explained from behind him. He twisted in time to see her level a warning look at Stark.
"No I don't," he said, turning back to Stark.
"Anything at all," Stark pressed. "Can you at least hold a welding torch without burning yourself."
"I've never tried but I'm sure I'll be able to learn," he said smoothly.
"He'll be able to learn," Stark repeated, rolling his eyes. "Terrific."
"Look," he said, stung. "I'm a great pilot. I can fly anything you put in front of me. And I was under the impression that building the thing was someone else's department. The guys who built the space shuttle weren't the ones we sent to the moon after all." He smiled, slightly smugly.
Behind him he could hear Potts taking a deep breath, but it was Stark who spoke.
"No indeed," he said. "Especially as the space shuttle didn't begin operational flights until thirteen years after the first moon landing, but don't let that bother you. Oh, and you and the good Senator Boynton might want to consider that Armstrong and Aldrin both had graduate degrees in engineering and were heavily involved in developing the technology needed for the moon landing. Believe me, they knew how to use a welding torch. Also," he added, locking eyes with Shepherd. "It helps if you can make basic repairs after you've been knocked about by a high powered turbine, so that you can fly off to deal with the alien invasion."
He gritted his teeth. "Like I said. I can learn."
"Let's hope so," Stark returned.
Right. He forced himself to calm down, trying to count to ten. It wasn't like he'd been expecting Stark to be grateful, but he would have thought that the man would at least be relieved that his legacy was in good hands.
"So what happens next?" he asked politely.
Stark ignored him. "Jarvis, let's get to the basics," he called.
Shepherd resisted the urge to look around. He knew there was no one there. And still the voice came out of nowhere.
"Major Shepherd is six foot three and weighs two hundred and eleven pounds. His chest is forty six inches, his shoulder - "
" - alright, enough," Stark interrupted. "Just load the measurements onto a projection, okay?"
"What?" he asked, uncertain what he was even asking.
Potts stepped up beside him. "That's Jarvis, Tony's AI. He's able to take your measurements non intrusively. I think we're both happier not asking why."
"Just think of it as like getting fitted for a suit but without the tape measure or the chatty tailor," Stark told him without looking up from the hologram of a man that had just appeared in front of him. "Right, so he's taller, broader and heavier than me or Rhodey," he said distractedly.
"By a large measure, sir," Jarvis agreed.
"That's going to mess with the weight distribution and the aerodynamics. We're going to need to compensate. "Stark reached out with his good hand and pulled parts of the Iron Man costume onto the figure. A column of incomprehensible numbers scrolled down and Stark shook his head irritably. "No. Okay, how about..." He dragged the armour off the figure and replaced it with indistinguishable pieces. More numbers flew past and Stark scowled. "Still no. Speed's compromised." With a gesture, the armour vanished off the figure. "We're gonna need to start a completely new model."
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"Means it's gonna be weeks rather than days," Stark explained shortly.
Oh. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Not be so freakishly built?" Stark suggested sarcastically. Then he sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Don't worry, Major. I'm going to have plenty for you to do. I'll need to know exactly how you're going to use this thing, and that means finding out how you move, how you react, how you fly, how you fight...believe me, whatever tests Fury put you through to get this gig? You're going to look back at them with nostalgia."
He nodded, wondering how much of that would really be necessary and how much was just for Stark's twisted enjoyment. "Something to look forward to," he said all the same.
"Yeah." Stark's brow creased. "Actually, we can get the basic movement capture done now. Run on the spot for a bit, would you?"
He stared. "Run...?"
"On the spot, yes," Stark said impatiently. "I know you're Air Force and running is more for the army, but they do still teach you basic movement, don't they?"
Still not sure just how serious Stark was, he stayed put.
"Come on...running?" Stark prompted. "One of a range of things I can't do anymore?"
He glanced back at Potts for help, but she was just standing watching him expectantly.
Alright, then. Still half expecting Stark to start laughing, he half-heartedly began to jog on the spot.
But Stark wasn't even looking at him, watching the hologram instead, which had begun to mimic Shepherd's movement.
"Do it properly," Stark instructed.
More confident now, he did so, keeping it up for five minutes or so, until Stark told him to stop.
"Okay, do some jumping jacks," Stark ordered. "Twenty or so should do it."
Jumping jacks? "Is this really necessary or are you yanking my chain?" he demanded.
Stark looked up at him. "If I was yanking your chain, I would have told you to dance," he said shortly. "This is necessary."
"Why?" he challenged.
"I told you, for the movement capture," Stark said impatiently, like it explained everything.
He stood stubbornly still.
"Believe me, if the elbow joint is a couple of millimetres out of proper alignment, you'll soon know about it," Stark snapped at last. "Now, are you going to do it or am I going to have to call Fury and tell him to send someone who isn't afraid of a little exercise."
At least he'd won an explanation. Stony faced, he started doing the jumping jacks till Stark told him to stop.
"Alright, that's enough for the day," Stark said, studying his hologram intently. "I can use this. Come by tomorrow afternoon. At two. We'll get you set up in the training area and you can learn how to use the repulsors."
"Yes sir," he agreed, and he headed towards the door.
"I'll show you where the training area is," Potts said quickly. "It's on the thirtieth floor, the communal level. You can use the direct elevator now, it comes out in the basement. If that's alright, Mr Stark?" she added, looking over to him.
"Of course, Miss Potts," Stark said, looking back at her and smiling slightly, in spite of the formal tone.
He followed Potts out of the room and over to the elevator. She really was very beautiful. And loyal too; here she was, doing her boss' bidding at this ungodly hour. He hoped Stark paid her well, that's all he could say.
"Okay," she said, as they walked out of the elevator. "The training area is over on your left here. Someone will be waiting for you tomorrow." She hesitated. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I really need to get back to him. Can you see yourself out? Just take the elevator straight down and out through the basement entrance. You can't go wrong."
"No problem," he nodded. "I'll maybe see you tomorrow?" He tried not to sound too hopeful.
"Almost certainly," she said. "Good luck, Major Shepherd."
He had a feeling he was going to need it.
He watched her head back to the elevator and smiled. Now at least he could look round this training area a little more.
Steve was absolutely exhausted. And listening to Hawkeye's gloomy play by play wasn't helping either. Yes, they'd had their butts handed to them. Did they really need to go over it again now? There would be plenty of time to discuss mistakes and tactics over the next few days. Right now he just wanted to get their injured team mates taken care of, and then hopefully hit the sack himself.
None of them were badly injured, really. But Thor had some nasty burns and a concussion that was making him loopy and irritable, which was just the combination you wanted on someone who could summon lightning. And Natasha had a hairline fracture to her wrist, which Clint had said was retribution for her laughing at him earlier, and some cracked ribs that were obviously hurting her, no matter what she said.
The rest of them had mostly escaped with scrapes and bruises, plus Bruce was absolutely exhausted, even though the Hulk had regenerated all the damage done.
It wasn't a good result though. The truth was their victory had been more about the enemy's failures than their successes.
"And you know we had the bottleneck, we just couldn't drive them into it," Clint went on.
"Barton, quit it," Steve ordered tiredly, twisting round to look at him.
Clint was supporting Natasha, Steve and Bruce were half carrying Thor. The doctor had suggested that they all stay on the carrier at least till morning, but Thor had demanded home, Jane and poptarts, and at least the first of those had appealed to all of them.
"I'm just saying we were missing some aerial support," Clint insisted.
"We all know what we were missing," Natasha said, her Russian accent showing through. "Talking about it is not going to help."
"Maybe not, but we need to figure out what will help," Clint argued.
It wasn't like he didn't have a point. He did, and they all knew that. It was just knowing what they were supposed to do about it. The six of them worked fantastically as a unit, and they worked just fine in groups of two or three. But as a five...as a five it felt like they were a six with a hole in it. This fight today, Steve had almost found himself yelling at Iron Man for not clearing away the Hydra super soldiers from above them, and he'd seen Hulk punch a soldier up into the air and then roar in mournful confusion when Iron Man wasn't there to blast them.
For the most divisive member of any group he was a part of, this group sure missed Tony.
He sighed. "Look, tomorrow we'll start going over new tactics and battle plans, okay?"
"It is tomorrow," Bruce said quietly.
Good point. He looked at Clint. "Let's just get some rest. We all need it." He glanced meaningfully towards Natasha and Clint nodded slowly.
"Where is Jane Foster?" Thor demanded suddenly.
"She's flying up from New Mexico," Bruce reminded him soothingly the way he had the previous sixteen times. "It'll take her a few hours, but she'll be here."
Thor nodded, his brow furrowed.
"Okay, big guy, let's get you upstairs," Steve said encouragingly. They'd only stopped off on this floor to raid the infirmary for painkillers and dressings. After that they'd be heading upstairs and Clint would be looking after Natasha in her room and he and Bruce would take care of Thor, at least until Jane got here.
They were trudging towards the elevator when they suddenly heard a noise.
As one they froze. The only people authorised to be here were them plus Tony and Pepper, and it didn't seem likely it was Pepper.
He carefully left Thor supporting himself against a wall, signalling to him to stay back with Natasha, and he didn't care which of them thought they were guarding the other.
He, Clint and Bruce crept forwards. His shield was in his hand, there was an arrow in Clint's bow, Bruce's fist was clenched like he was ready to Hulk out at a moment's notice. Steve almost felt sorry for the intruder. Breaking into the Avengers Tower at the best of times? Not smart. Now, with all of them on edge and frustrated it sounded like the worst idea imaginable.
They heard the sound of shuffling feet. Sounded like the intruder was standing by the elevator. He exchanged nods with Clint and Bruce, then they charged round the corner, catching the man unawares. Steve slammed him into the wall, and a second later the guy had an arrow pointing right between his eyes.
"Okay," Steve said calmly, noticing that his captive was wearing a USAF major's uniform. "Let's talk about who you are and who sent you?"
"Major Harry Shepherd," the man gargled. "Director Fury sent me to see Stark."
"That's easily checked," Clint pointed out. "Natasha! Call SHIELD. Find out if they sent this loser."
And Steve wasn't going to let go until they found out. "Suppose we believe you? That doesn't explain why Fury sent you."
Shepherd tried to pry Steve's arm away his throat, like that was ever going to work. "I'm the new Iron Man," he rasped.
Steve's grip tightened reflexively, leaving Shepherd gasping for breath.
"You lie!" Thor thundered, his face dark and angry. "There is only one man of iron and that is Tony Stark."
"Tony doesn't give up his armour to anyone," Clint agreed softly, the tip of his arrow now resting on Shepherd's forehead. "And someone takes it from him over our cold, dead bodies. And just so you know? Some of us might be immortal."
Shepherd stared round at them, looking decidedly panicked. "It's the truth, I swear it," he said. "Stark's building me new armour."
"He's legitimate," Natasha announced shortly.
Steve let go and stood back, and they all turned round and stared at her.
"He's legitimate?" Steve repeated, stunned.
"The director was going to brief you and formally introduce me in the next few days," Shepherd said, massaging his throat. "I guess that's not necessary now. I have to say this isn't exactly how I was imagining meeting you." All at once he stood up straight and saluted. "Captain Rogers. Can I just say it's an honour. I'm looking forward to serving alongside you."
Steve returned the salute automatically.
Shepherd went on to nod at each of them in turn. "Dr Banner. Agent Barton. Agent Romanov." He hesitated for a second, as if uncertain how to keep up the formality. "...Thor. It's good to meet all of you, but I should be going. You're just back from an assignment. I'll leave you in peace, though I'm going to be here tomorrow, so perhaps I'll see you."
"Perhaps," Bruce said, and Steve was relieved because right now he didn't know what to say. "Goodnight, Major," he added as the elevator arrived.
The door slid closed behind him and the conversation exploded.
"He is not Iron Man," Thor insisted."You cannot simply take a man's name and power and give it to another. It is not right."
"He's an airforce pilot," Natasha pointed out. "He had plenty of medals too."
"He might be a brave and worthy warrior, but that does not make him Iron Man," Thor argued fiercely.
Natasha shrugged. "We don't even know what he did to get the medals anyway."
"Find out," Steve told her. "I want everything Fury has on this Shepherd and more."
She smiled coldly. "Resorting to spying on our allies and investigating our team mates, Captain?"
He returned her gaze steadily. "He's not our team mate yet."
"Tony had his mind made up," Clint frowned darkly. "What do you think Fury said to convince him otherwise?"
Steve hesitated. "I don't think Fury had anything to do with it," he said.
By the look on his face, Bruce had come to the same conclusion. "That idiot," he groaned.
Clint looked between them. "What?"
"I think Tony was watching us on television," Steve explained grimly.
"Right." Clint's jaw was clenched. "You mean we now look so incompetent that Tony figured he had to give up his armour in order to try and protect us?"
He shrugged. "I doubt that was the way he was thinking about it."
"Fantastic." Clint bit off the word. "And now that milksop gets to say he's the new Iron Man."
"Don't judge him because he's not Tony," Steve warned.
"By what other measure should we judge him?" Thor demanded. "He is not Tony Stark. He is an imposter."
"What's Tony thinking?" Clint asked helplessly. "Does he even understand that it's not the armour we need, it's him."
"Sentimental," Natasha said crisply.
"Factual," Clint corrected, swinging round to face her. "Unless you're going to argue that the armour was the only thing that the genius billionaire hero brought to this team?"
Natasha inclined her head, but said "You were the one who said we needed more aerial support."
"We do, but I meant..." Clint hesitated. "I didn't mean sticking some total stranger in Iron Man's armour, and carrying on like we know how to trust him." He stared at Natasha for a second, an expression of deep hurt visible on his face. "Widow...whose side are you on, anyway."
"I'm on our side," she said, almost gently. "We all are."
"We all supported Tony's decisions not to give Fury the armour," Bruce said quietly. "So maybe we need to support him now too."
"You agree with this?" Clint asked.
"No, I think it's a stupid idea," Bruce said without hesitation. "But I'm going to support Tony and I'm going to do everything to make sure the new guy feels welcome."
"Not calling him the new guy would probably help," Natasha said dryly.
"We need to make sure Shepherd fits in and gets up to speed," Steve agreed. "If he's going to be any use at all we need to be able to work with him." He looked directly at Clint and Thor. "Don't compare him to Tony. Remember, Tony Stark is many things. Replaceable isn't one of them. This is someone new and we need the help. Let's give him a chance to prove himself at least. Can you do that?" He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for the nod. Natasha definite, Bruce reluctant, Clint and Thor unhappy.
He had their agreement at least. This could save the team physically, but it might just rip them apart in every other way.
They dropped Clint and Natasha off at their floor and headed upstairs with Thor.
He hesitated outside the elevator, looking at Bruce. "You okay with him? I just want to..." He shrugged awkwardly.
"Check in with Tony?" Bruce nodded understandingly.
"Yes. Well. I need to get him to add Jane into the tower security," he pointed out. "Plus he'll want to know we're okay." He'd managed to snatch a few seconds to call Tony and tell him they were all safe but that was literally all he had been able to say. Certainly Tony couldn't have been able to discuss his plans with Steve even if he'd wanted to, which Steve seriously doubted. He wondered just when Tony had been planning on telling them.
"Right. We'll see you later," Bruce said.
Once back in the elevator, Steve turned to face the wall panel and spoke, feeling just as self conscious as he always did. "Uh, Jarvis? Are you there?" Even as he said it, he wondered just where else he thought the AI would be.
"Yes, Captain Rogers," Jarvis confirmed, and if Steve didn't know better he'd swear it sounded amused.
"Is Tony awake?" he asked.
"Mr Stark and Miss Potts are both still awake," Jarvis announced. "Shall I inform them that you wish to see them?"
"Please," he nodded politely. "Tell them I just want to check in, it can easily wait if need be."
There was a pause. "Mr Stark would be delighted to see you," Jarvis told him.
He grinned slightly at the phrasing. "That was Pepper, wasn't it?"
"Yes sir," Jarvis agreed primly.
Certainly it was Pepper who said warmly at him as he walked in. "Steve. I'm glad you're safe."
Tony looked up from the hologram he was working on. A new Iron Man suit. Shepherd's, Steve guessed. "How's Thor? And Natasha?"
"Natasha's fine," Steve reassured him. "She's banged up pretty bad, but she'll be up and around in no time." He winced slightly, remembering Tony wouldn't be. "Sorry."
Tony waved the apology away impatiently. "And Thor?"
"Some bad burns and a concussion. The doctors said if he was human the burns would leave scarring, but as it is they have no idea. He's pretty out of it though. He asked for Jane so we're flying her up here. Can you make sure she can get upstairs without being shot or whatever."
"Already done," Tony said easily. "Jarvis, track when Jane Foster's plane gets in and have Happy meet her." He turned back to Steve. "She's got access to the communal areas and Thor's room already. Thor asked me to add her months back."
Huh. He hadn't realised.
Tony pursed his lips. "Get yourself a steady beau and I'll do the same for her. Or him."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not gay, Tony."
"I've seen the video," Tony told him. "Musical theatre, stars and spangles...it paints a picture, you know, Cap."
"Uh huh. Stereotyping, are we? Which of us is the one stuck in the past again?" He grew serious. "You know, Thor was asking for his father when he first woke up."
"Odin? Not exactly an easy guy to get hold of," Tony commented.
"Yeah," Steve agreed. "This time it wound up not mattering, but next time..." He shrugged. "Maybe you could work on some sort of communicator between here and Asgard. You know. If you aren't too busy working on Major's Shepherd's armour."
There was silence. Tony waved the hologram into the ether.
"We met him downstairs," Steve explained. "He introduced himself."
"And?" Tony said quietly.
Steve shrugged. "He seemed a decent enough sort. It's going to take a lot more than just putting the armour on to make him an Avenger though. But we'll all make the effort if you want us to."
"Right," Tony said, sounding tired.
"Do you want us to?" Steve pressed.
"It was my idea, wasn't it?" Tony said sharply.
That wasn't exactly an answer. "Tony...it's not too late to change your mind, you know," he tried. "If this is just because you're worried about us – we'll manage, I swear."
"I've made up my mind," Tony said shortly. "I want to do this."
Somehow, Steve wasn't convinced.