I'll Be Seeing You

Peggy Carter's residence. St. Ives, Cambridgeshire, England.

"Grandma? You've got visitors." Peggy shook off the drowsy feeling that had stolen over her and cocked an eyebrow at the young woman who had opened the door and strode inside the room. The girl was tall, dark-haired, and carried herself well. Good muscle tone, too. Now about her reflexes...

Snatching the mug off the table by her chair, she flung it at the girl, who caught it easily. "You trying to take my head off, Grandma?"

"Just testing your reflexes. Ever thought about joining the war effort? The Allies could use a woman like you. Think about it, won't you?" Peggy said, because she was always on the look out for possible recruits.

"Sure, Grandma. Say, how about I put some music on?" The girl crossed the sunny room to a side table and picked up an album. She held it up for her to see. "How about some Tommy Dorsey? I hear he's pretty good."

"I'd like that. But you can drop the grandma nickname; I'm only twenty-three, and I'm not ready to trade in my gun for knitting needles. Call me Peggy." She smiled to take the sting out her remark. There was something about this young girl. She reminded her a bit of her cousin Ellen, and Ellen had been as tough as they came. But not tougher than the German bomb that had killed her during the London Blitz.

"Okay, Peggy. You got it. My name's Janie and there's a couple of men here to see you. Something about the war, I think." The girl slid the record out of its sleeve and soon the strains of I'll Be Seeing You filled the air.

"I'll show your visitors in now." Jane held up the mug. "I'll make a round of tea, too."

"Thank you." Sighing, because she felt rather exhausted, she wryly speculated that she might have known her leave from the SSR would be cut short. She wondered who had been sent to fetch her back.

The answer to that question was answered as soon as she spotted the smaller man's goatee and his unruly dark hair when he entered the sitting room.

Standing slowly up, she said, "Howard Stark, are you doing Doctor Erskine's errands then? I suppose my leave is up."

Howard crossed to her and took her hands; leaning down, he kissed her cheek, his goatee scratching a bit on her face. "I'm afraid so, Peggy. The SSR knew I was in the area, asked me to bring you the news. But you're still on vacation today. You don't go back till tomorrow."

She cast her eyes meaningfully at the tall, blond man in the American Army uniform who had followed Howard into the sitting room. "Howard?" She stood slowly up, watching Howard's companion.

Howard swallowed, an odd expression on his face. "This is my very good friend Captain Steven Rogers, Peg. He's got clearance. He's working on Project Rebirth along with Doctor Erskine."

Captain Rogers stepped forward and extended a hand. When she took it, warm and large in her own, she felt him trembling. She squeezed his hand in sympathy. The look on his face, she'd seen that same expression on so many soldiers. This man had seen combat, had lost people.

"Miss Carter." She could see the terrible strain on his face as he forced himself to regain control. "It's a pleasure, ma'am."

"It's Agent, actually, but it's good to meet you, Captain. And if you're going to be working on Project Rebirth, we'll be working together." She must remind him of someone he'd once cared for, she thought.

"Won't you sit down?" she offered politely and slid her hand free from Captain Roger's grasp. "Do you enjoy Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra, Captain? I know Howard thinks this song is drivel."

Captain Rogers grasped her elbow, unobtrusively helping her to sit back down in the recliner. He said, with a smile that couldn't hide whatever pain he was feeling, "I know, Agent Carter. Howard didn't – doesn't – like anything he considered soppy. But I love this song, and I'm glad you do too."

"I think," Howard said, "that I'll go help Janie with that tea. You two kids have fun."

Walking past Captain Rogers, he patted his arm briefly before leaving the room.

The last words to the song drifted out into the sudden quiet. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

Peggy flicked her eyes towards a second chair that shared the small table. "Have a seat, Captain." She waited till he was sitting, his body angled towards hers to ask, "Forgive me if I'm being intrusive, but I feel that I remind you of someone, perhaps someone you lost?" She gave him a warm smile. "It's the way you're looking at me, you see. Would it help to talk about her?"

He nodded slowly, and his eyes. Well. He looked a bit lost for just a moment. He said, "It would, actually. You see, I never got the chance to tell her I loved her and I thought she was wonderful."

"She's gone, then?" Peggy asked gently.

He looked down for a moment, obviously gathering himself to answer her, before looking her in the eyes again. "She never knew that I'd been found, that I was alive."

"I'm sorry, Captain, for your loss."

"Thank you." Diffidently, he said, "There's just so much I wish I had said to her, you know?"

"If she were here, right now, what would you say to her? I've found that it helps, you see, to say those things aloud that you keep buried in your heart."

One thing the war had taught her was that life was too short to not act on what was the right thing to do. This man's pain, so obvious to her, needed to be lanced. So her words were a scalpel, perhaps, but afterwards she thought he might feel some relief.

He made an abortive movement towards her hand and she reached out, clasped his warm fingers.

"I'm not her, of course. But I'd be honored to be her stand-in, Captain."

"Steve. My name is Steve," he said, sounding like he'd swallowed glass.

"Then you must call me Peggy. What would you say to her, Steve, if you could?"

Steve tightened his fingers on hers. His blue eyes were intense, and rather heartbreaking. "You were the best, the absolute best. You saw me, who I am, even when everyone around me thought I would wash out and you didn't pity me. You gave me a chance to prove myself."

She smiled encouragingly and she saw actual tears in his eyes. He must have loved this woman very much. Gently she said, "I think there's more to say, Steve. Go on, you'll feel better for it."

His words came out in a tumble. "You were so beautiful, but you didn't care about that. You cared about being competent and smart and about doing what's right. You were clever and daring, and tough as could be and you saw awful things and they hurt you but they didn't stop you, and you did what you could to help make things better for everyone in our unit. You were an ally, a friend, and my best girl."

He fell silent then, his head bowed. She let him grieve. This war, it tore people apart, destroyed them. Hitler and his ilk must be stopped, if things were ever to become better, so that men like Captain Rogers and the woman that he'd loved so deeply never had to be separated again.

That dark-haired girl came into the room with a tray filled with beautiful tea cups and a matching teapot, steam rising from the spout, and a selection of treats. Howard Stark held the door open for her, his easy grin settled on his face. She should probably warn the girl about Howard, and wondered if he'd ever settle for just one woman.

She sincerely doubted it, but despite being rather a cad with the ladies, he was a good man, sincere in wanting to help with the war effort. He was brilliant, and engaging. She couldn't help but like him, even when he was acting like a git.

Steve looked up, and she patted his hand with her free one and he let go of her. As the girl put the tray on the table, Peggy asked Howard about his latest gadgets. Captain Rogers seemed like he still needed some time before joining the conversation.

Howard raised his eyebrows at her, waggling them a little. "I've been thinking about inventing a flying car, Peg. Wouldn't that be something?"

"It would indeed; knowing you, it would quite showy. Fancy giving me a ride in it sometime?"

"You betcha." Howard glanced at Captain Rogers, and she could see the concern flit across his face before he smothered it and gave her the smile that she'd seen land so many girls in his bed. She didn't know why he bothered to do that with her. Howard knew that she was immune to his ways, no matter how charming he acted. He winked at her and said, "How about some tea? These cookies look pretty good, too." He deftly stole one from the platter and popped it into his mouth.

"Over here we call them biscuits, Howard. But you're right, let's have tea. Captain Rogers, why don't you pick out another record." That way, she thought, he could take as much time as he needed to regain his composure, his back to the rest of their little group.

Steve stood up, and she could see him straighten his shoulders as if he was getting ready to face an enemy. "I'd rather choose a song you'd like to hear, Peggy."

Peggy blinked, and looked around the room. She didn't know where she was or who these people were. "What?" she said, "Who are you? What are you people doing here; what am I doing here?"

A girl sitting with a dark-haired bearded man jumped up. "Hang on," she said. "Grandma's just having a moment. Let's try this." The girl trotted over to where a record player sat on top of a cabinet, and deftly drew out an album.

She tensed, ready to run or to fight if these people tried to harm her, keeping a watchful eye on them. The tall blond man had his hands held out, and he said a name to her, carefully, achingly.

"Peggy?"

She glanced at the young woman, but she didn't stop placing a record on the machine, so she must not be Peggy. Checking behind her, there was no one else in the room, just the four of them. The tall man in the uniform said that name again, and she could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

Was she Peggy? She didn't know. Someone had stolen her memories from her, she must have been drugged. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, she grabbed a spoon from the table next to her.

The sound of music filled the room, and yes, she remembered this song and the film, the sacrifices the two lovers made because of the war that was raging, and how Rick, that cynical bar owner, had done the honorable thing and sent the woman he loved away with her husband to safety in America. He'd saved his soul by doing that, she thought. He'd gone to fight then, in the war. She'd seen that movie long before she'd met Steve. Perhaps they would have a chance sometime to watch it together, when the war was over or if they could get away on leave. But the war effort needed Captain America, and sometimes what Steve Rogers needed was pushed aside.

The slow trickle of the piano notes, the husky voice singing, the words filling the silence between her and these three other people, all of it made her pause. She felt like she was on the brink of finding answers and she clutched the spoon in her hand. Why did it feel like a knife to her, why did the lyrics make her heart clench?

It's still the same old story

A fight for love and glory

A case of do or die.

The world will always welcome lovers,

As time goes by.

"Agent Carter?" the soldier barked out, and yes, that was right. She was Agent Carter and she must have been compromised. She still didn't know what had happened to her and her memories were foggy.

"I am Agent Carter, now identify yourselves," she said, putting a snap to her tone. Then she blinked again, because one man's features were suddenly familiar.

"Howard," she said, exasperated. "What on earth is going on?"

"Relax, Peggy," he said. "Uh, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Going in undercover to Hydra's headquarters. Where is Doctor Erskine?"

"You went into Castle Kauffman and rescued Doctor Erskine from General Schmidt while pretending to be a maid named Eva. That was so bad-ass," the girl said, and then in a whisper to Howard, "I've always loved that story about Grandma."

Grandma? She was hardly old enough to be given that nickname. But no matter. "And Doctor Erskine? I gather the mission was successful?"

The tall man in the American uniform spoke up, and she noted that his rank was Captain. "Doctor Erskine is safe; he's with the Strategic Scientific Reserve and working on Project Rebirth."

"Why are my memories like Swiss cheese?" she said, feeling strange and suspicious. "Howard?"

"Blame Hydra," Howard said, "But you're okay, Peg. Just be prepared for things to go kind of blank off and on. This is Captain Steven Rogers, and this is Janie. She's in charge here. You're in a safe house till you recover."

Captain Rogers smiled at her, but his eyes, oh. This man's heart was breaking. Perhaps it was the music playing from that movie, Casablanca, that was reminding him of someone he'd given up or lost.

Well, if it was one thing the English excelled at, it was offering a cup of tea to those who were grieving, wisdom that had been passed down in her family from generation to generation. "Margaret," her grandmother would tell her, "a good cup of tea can fix anything." She placed the spoon on the table and indicated the empty chair next to her.

"Captain Rogers, won't you sit down and let me pour you some tea. My mother had a saying and I've always taken it to heart. "If you're cold, it will warm you, too heated, it will cool you."

Captain Rogers seated himself gracefully and covered her hand with his own and stopped her words.

He said, "Depressed, it will cheer you, too excited it will calm you."

Surprised, she said, "It's odd that an American knows that saying."

"An English girl I loved taught it to me, Agent Carter." And now she understood the sadness in his eyes; he'd lost that girl and the pain of it was still tormenting him.

Reaching over to the teapot, she carefully filled a cup, delicate porcelain decorated with a pattern of blue flowers and offered it to him. Their fingers touched as he slid the cup from her hands to his own.

He smiled at her with sadness and affection and on impulse she said, "Call me Peggy."

x x x

Steve took a deep, shuddering breath after Janie had ushered them out the door, and Tony felt for the guy, he really did. Peggy had fallen asleep in her chair, and Janie had motioned for them to follow her out into the hallway and then into another room that seemed to be an office of sorts. There were family pictures on the wall going back for several generations. Tony's eye was drawn to a large framed photo of Peggy, probably shortly after World War II had ended, judging by her age. She was wearing a smart blue suit which showed off her figure and a bright red hat. The expression on her face was sardonic, her eyebrows raised.

"Grandma's going to be too tired for the rest of the day to handle any more visitors, guys," Janie said.

"Her memory," Steve had asked, sounding to Tony like he might shatter. "Is it always like that, changing so quickly to another time period in her life?"

"Yes. She tends to go back to the war years, though, more than the years she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D." Janie pulled Steve down for a kiss on the cheek. "You made her happy, Captain Rogers. She always loved you, you know, even when she also loved my grandfather. Try not to be sad about Grandma. She's had a very full and active life, and a family that she loved very much and who loves her. She's not uncomfortable living with me."

"What happens if her illness becomes worse?" Tony said. "If living with you isn't possible any more? Because say the word and I will set up a trust fund for her to handle any hospital or nursing home expenses, or home care."

Janie turned to Tony and kissed him on the cheek, too. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. I think we're okay, though."

"I don't understand why my father didn't set her up with funds for her care," Tony said, scowling. "She must have started to become ill while he was still alive."

"I think he tried, actually, from what my mother told me, but Grandma wouldn't let him." Janie grinned at them. "She's always been independent and a role model for me and my siblings and cousins. Us girls used to play being her and we'd make our brothers and cousins be Howard Stark. I talked Johnny Kelly into being you, Captain Rogers, so I could kiss him. Well, so Agent Carter could kiss Captain America."

Tony laughed at the expression on Steve's face. The guy still had a hard time acknowledging that generations of kids had grown up idealizing him. Those radio plays about Cap and the Howling Commandos and Peggy Carter and the comic books had only added to the legend.

Janie laughed, too. "And now I've kissed Iron Man and the real Captain America. I can't wait to razz my cousin Sharon about that."

"But seriously," Tony said, "if you need anything at all, call Pepper Potts at Stark Industries and it's yours. My dad was good friends with Peggy Carter, and I remember her visiting us sometimes. She was always kind to me."

Call me Aunt Peggy, she'd told Tony when he was just a little snot. She'd always been interested in what he was learning and she'd taken him out with her to ride the ferry to Staten Island and to buy him ice cream. At the time, he wondered why his body guards hadn't had to go along, but when he was older he'd realized that Agent Carter was worth ten bodyguards when it came to watching out for someone. Hey, he'd read the comics, too, but his dad had always said the radio plays were drivel and that Peggy Carter had never been a damsel in distress. He used to say they got that wrong, that it was Peg who would do the rescuing.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

"Hey, kid, call me Tony. And he's Steve. We're practically related," and Tony gently elbowed her.

"You got it, Tony. Steve?"

Steve had been quiet, his eyes on the photo of Peggy wearing her red hat. Tony figured he was lost in memories, but Steve turned to Janie. "Yes?"

"How are you doing? I can't imagine how hard this must have been for you."

Steve didn't answer her except with a smile that never reached his eyes, and Tony decided it was time to go. He left after getting Janie to agree to send weekly updates on how Peggy was doing to JARVIS.

Steve stayed quiet as they headed back to London, leaving St. Ives behind. Finally after nearly an hour of silence he said, with an upraised eyebrow, "Blame Hydra?"

"Peggy would accept that Hydra had injected her or sprayed her with something that messed with her memories a lot better than explaining that she's in her nineties and has Alzheimer's disease," Tony said, and whipped around a curve on the M-11.

"Good thinking, Mr. Stark," Steve said, and Tony could see him making an effort to put his sadness behind him. "So, I guess I'll be taking your best girl to the British Museum tomorrow."

"I'm coming, too," Tony protested. "Right after the Robotics Conference break out groups."

"Unless you get too intrigued by an idea or want to pick someone's brain or recruit them for Stark Industries and forget about Pepper and me," Steve said, but he'd thrown in a teasing tone, so Tony knew he wasn't criticizing him.

"I see Miss Potts has been conferring with you," Tony grumbled. "Okay, I won't promise, and yes, I have been known to get distracted and forget commitments, but I'm going to try because I told Pep I'd spend this time with her. And you," he added hastily, not wanting Steve to feel like a third wheel. "We want to spend time with you, too, and you know, you're an artist so it'll be like having a native guide at the museum."

"I'm looking forward to it, Tony," Steve said. "And if you forget to come, well, there's always the next day or two."

"I'm coming, sheesh. But if I forget, not saying that I will, but if I do, just come back and get me, okay."

"Okay. And Tony, thanks for today. You made this easier for me by being there, and I appreciate it." Steve reached over and clasped Tony's shoulder. "You're a good friend."

"Hey, what are fellow Avengers for," Tony said, with an airy tone, but Steve's words warmed him. "Let's give Pepper a call and meet for dinner."

x x x

It was, Tony thought as he jogged up the wide stone steps into the British Museum, going to be hard to pry Pepper and Steve away from the exhibits tonight. Being Friday, the place stayed open till 8:30 and he was sure Steve and Pep were planning to make every minute count.

He'd like to talk the art lovers into having some fun tonight on their last evening in London, something between the high-brow atmosphere of the Ritz casino and the free-for-all at the Casino at the Empire, if they went out gambling. Not that they would. While Cap might play poker with pennies, he couldn't see him enjoying throwing away money the way Tony used to do, even if he would let Tony bankroll him. Maybe they could duck into a pub and play darts, eat fish and chips or bangers and mash, whatever that was. Something English. Somewhere where people were enjoying themselves.

Tomorrow they were flying to Ireland. Steve's parents had emigrated from there and after that heartbreaking visit with Peggy Carter Tony and Pepper had both thought it might be a good distraction. Steve wasn't an overly talkative guy, not like Tony was, but he'd been very quiet for the last two days after returning from seeing Peggy at her granddaughter's home. Tony had actually had to ask him to talk about some of the art work they'd seen, because of Steve's lost expression that kept showing back up like a hard-luck relative. Reliving the past instead of working towards the future wasn't going to help Steve to come to terms with the way his life was now. He'd had friends and loved ones once and most of them were dead, but he had friends and people who could love him right now and talking about his losses wasn't going to be as useful as reminding Steve about that.

Tony was an engineer, a mechanic, the fix-it guy. He, with Pepper's help, would use his skill-sets for Steve. Distract him, let him know he wasn't alone.

So, Tony'd turned away the people at the Robotics conference who wanted his time for the last two afternoons and evenings and he did the same thing tonight, even though some of those robotics engineers had some fascinating stuff going on.

The last time he'd texted Pepper, she'd said she and Steve were in the prints and drawings room, and that Steve was armed with a sketchpad. Tony crossed the airy, open area that housed places to eat and restrooms and looked up at the wide domed ceiling briefly, appreciating the architecture. He headed for the North stairs, breezing through the Living and Dying exhibit room. It was almost impossible to pass through this room, with its different depictions of how people had imagined the afterworld and how they dealt with dead bodies, without remembering the corpses of the Chitauri that had littered the New York streets. What did those fallen soldiers think happened after they'd died?

His own moment of acceptance as he'd hovered in cosmic blackness had been peaceful. In the end, it wasn't a bad way to die, out there in the vastness of space, brilliant stars in his every view.

He'd stared at the ever-lovin' mother ship before him and held his last breath that the nuke Fury had sent him after would blow it the fuck up and stop the alien invaders. He hadn't raged against the dying of the light, just accepted that this was the cost of saving his world, at least for a while. He'd hoped Cap and the rest of the Avengers could stop the Chitauri, that the breach could be closed the way Selvig and Natasha had thought.

He'd imagined that Steve would be proud of him, for choosing to lay down on the wire. He'd still wished he could have just cut it, though. There was nothing wrong with a win-win scenario. Stop the bad guys and still live to fight another day. And he had. He'd beaten the odds by falling back down to Earth before the hole in the sky closed above him and by having a huge green man catch him and save him from being red jelly in a tin can.

Bruce couldn't die. It still gave him a jolt to remember how the guy, quiet and unassuming, had blurted out how he'd tried to shoot himself and how

the Hulk had blocked his attempt. Probably attempts. He'd gotten low, was how Bruce had phrased his depression.

As he left the exhibit behind and climbed the stairs he hoped that wherever Bruce was, that he wasn't feeling lost in darkness again.

x x x

Pepper looked gorgeous in a green dress that was shot through with gold. Her hair was down and she looked delectable. Tony caught her eye as he approached where she was standing gazing at a drawing that looked like it had been done in the middle ages.

"You, Miss Potts, are by far the most beautiful item in this room," he murmured to her and her lips twitched into a smile.

"Mr. Stark, I'm happy that you could join us," she said primly, "Knowing how much you adore art."

He stepped close to her and dropped a light kiss on her lips. Then he smirked at her, enjoying playing this familiar game. "I like what I like. You know, there was a street vendor I saw on my way in, he was selling paintings of characters from movies and video games and oh, yes, the Avengers. Want to buy one of Iron Man?"

Pepper chuckled. "I think you've got enough paintings of Iron Man."

Tony struck a slight pose. "Well, since I am known for my modesty and restraint, as well as my good looks and charm, I guess I'll pass up that painting. I think I'll buy the ones of the rest of the team, though. We can put them up in the theater room. They have a certain kitschy appeal."

"If you want portraits of the team, why not ask Steve to do them?"

Tony dropped the bantering tone. "Kidding aside, that actually sounds like a good idea. You think he'd go for it?"

"I don't know, Tony. You'd have to ask him." She tucked a few strands of her red hair behind her ear, and Tony had to restrain himself from kissing her there. Pepper would consider that over the line for a place like this.

He did reach out and trace the edge of her upper ear. Pepper allowed it, with a small intimate smile. Coughing a little, dropping his hand back to his side he said, "I think I will. At the right time. He drew the Howling Commandos, after all."

"Yes," she said, "and I loved his exhibit at the Met. He's been sketching some of the drawings here."

"So he's been okay?"

"I think so." Pepper nudged him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I think coming to the museum was a good idea."

They shifted to talking about their day so far, about what he'd thought of the convention and the several bright kids he'd met that he'd like to recruit for Stark Industries. He'd texted her the names at the time and she'd contacted JARVIS about background checks. Pepper wasn't along solely to gawk at the exhibits. She'd had some business to conduct for Stark Industries, but she'd concluded that this morning while Steve had gone on a long, long run. It had gone well, she'd said.

After brushing Pepper's hair away from her neck and dropping a kiss on her nape, he told her he was going to wander over to where Steve was sketching at the far end of the room.

x x x

"Mmmm," Tony said, eying the drawing Steve was capturing in his sketchpad.

Steve looked up, not looking surprised to see Tony there at all. Of course he wouldn't be, despite Tony walking over very quietly. The guy had enhanced hearing after all. It didn't do to try to plot anything when Steve was anywhere near the vicinity, as Clint and Tony could testify. Steve had put an end to their prank war by reversing the tricks they had intended to pull on each other. Tony grinned, though, remembering how Clint had sputtered when his version of a pie in the face had homed in on Clint instead of Tony. Steve had enlisted JARVIS to reverse the programming of the drone with its payload of gooey cream sweetness Clint had gleefully sent after Tony. Clint had somersaulted and pulled other acrobatics but without his bow to shoot the drone down, in the end he'd been bombed and covered with the stuff. Tony had laughed till he had hiccups, and Natasha had sent the two of them superior looks. Steve had just said, "Ready to accept a truce?" and he and Clint had given up. For now.

"Hey, Tony," Steve said, then returned to using his pencil to capture the woman's stance and expression.

Tony stared at the drawing of the woman wearing a ton of fancy frippery, and he began chuckling.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, man, she's definitely got a 'come and get me, big boy,' look on her face. I mean, I know that look. Boy, do I know it. And I bet she's got quite a figure under all those layers of dresses and petticoats. I wonder how long it took whoever she's giving that 'fuck me now' expression to strip her down to just one layer."

Steve raised an eyebrow again. "Tony," he started to say, but Tony cut him off.

"I know, I know what you're going to say. Language, right? And you know, I don't do anything about those looks I get anymore. I mean, Pepper's my girl and I'm not going to screw up what we have, not for a cheap roll in the hay." He made a grimace at Steve. "Roll in the hay, did they even say that back in your day?"

Steve looked up from where he was sitting in a chair in the ornate room, sketchpad on his knee and said mildly, "First, I'm sure you did and do get those kinds of inviting looks. Second, I believe you about being faithful to Miss Potts. Third, yes, watch your language, we're in public. Fourth, people did use 'roll in the hay' as an euphemism for having sex back in the forties. Fifth, I agree with you about the lady in the drawing's expression. In fact, the artist, Thomas Gainsborough, also agreed with you. He described her as having a 'fascinating leer.'"

"A fascinating leer," Tony repeated. "So after you're done copying it, want to talk Pepper into going out to a pub for darts and dinner."

"When the museum closes, sure, if that's what Pepper wants to do. In the meantime, you should see some of the drawings that are more in your line of work."

It was Tony's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Such as?"

Steve pointed to his left. "Since the media likes to call you the Da Vinci of our times, you might enjoy seeing what the original's blueprints for instruments of war looks like. He sketched out a version of a tank, although it was never built."

"No kidding. And as far as media nicknames goes, I like being called that much, much more than the Merchant of Death." Tony shrugged. "I'm not much for art, though. I let Pepper handle anything to do with it."

"A wise decision. She's very knowledgeable. I've learned a lot from her, from discussing what we've seen here." Steve glanced at the drawing and then added a line to his own sketch.

"You doing okay, Steve?"

Nodding, Steve said, "With a little help from my friends."

"Hey, that's-"

"The Beatles. Written for Ringo Starr and sung by him. With a little help from the band." Steve grinned at him. "JARVIS has been helping me improve my cultural literacy. Now scram, and let me study this fascinating leer this young lady of bygone years is wearing."

x x x

They stopped on their way out of the museum, so Tony could buy Clint and Natasha T-shirts, although the museum was too classy to have those, "I visited this cool place, and I only brought you back a lousy T-shirt so you can remember you didn't get to go" shirts. Pepper chose a pretty one for Nat that had an ancient Egyptian necklace printed around the neckline and Tony picked out one for Clint that had a couple of Egyptian cat statutes on it. Probably Clint liked cats. He liked dogs, at least.

Pepper also bought one for Steve, an arty looking white T-shirt with the Rosetta stone printed on the front. That inspired Tony to include the rest of the Avengers. For Thor, he chose a black T-shirt that had Egyptian symbols all over it and kind of looked like something a biker might wear. He chose a blue T-shirt with an enormous wave across the front for Phil Coulson, AKA Agent. Clint, AKA Blabbermouth, had said that Phil would talk about taking a vacation on the beach in Tahiti after one of their particularly hard missions.

After Tony had bought Pepper a black Day of the Dead skinny T-shirt, Steve listened to him pondering about what to get Bruce. Finally, Steve pulled a plain black polo shirt that only had a small emblem of the Rosetta stone on the breast off a shelf and handed it to Tony.

"Bruce doesn't like to stand out," Steve said quietly. Not quietly enough, though, because Pepper obviously heard him, from the closed down expression on her face. She really didn't like any reminder about Bruce being a part of the Avengers. She didn't say anything though, and Tony paid for the shirt along with the others. He was surprised when Steve handed him a bag as they left the gift shop. Looking into it, he smiled.

"The picture on the T-shirt is from the Book of the Dead," Steve said, pointing at the bag. "It looked interesting, so I thought it would suit an interesting kind of guy."

"Aww, shucks, grandpa. You shouldn't have."

Steve lightly clipped Tony on the back of his head. "You know, I haven't worked out the training routine for next week yet. Keep it up, young whippersnapper, and we'll find out just how tough you are."

Before Tony could throw something witty and sparkling back at him, both his and Steve's cell phone rang with the ring tone that meant JARVIS was calling.

Steve and Tony's eyes met as JARVIS explained that Bruce Banner had been positively ID'ed in Managua, Nicaragua and had just walked voluntarily into a hostage situation.

Tony shoved his phone in his jeans pocket after instructing JARVIS to continue to monitor and update them on the situation and to contact Coulson, Nat, and Clint without jeopardizing their current mission, glancing at Cap and getting a nod of approval.

Pepper looked at him, a little sad, a little proud. "I guess Iron Man and Captain America will be taking the jet?"

"Yes," he said, and dropped his bag on the museum floor, "Sorry, babe. It's Bruce. He's surfaced and he's got trouble." He drew her to him and kissed her softly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She smiled at him, her eyes glistening. "Another share or two in Avenger's Tower? You know that's what everyone's calling it now, not Stark Tower."

"I kind of like it," Tony said, and let her go. "Half a percent. My final offer."

"Accepted, Mr. Stark. Will that be all?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts." But he drew her back to him and kissed her once more before letting her go.

"Be careful," she warned, looking at them both. "I don't like this at all."

Steve nodded. "Hopefully we'll get there before Hydra can make a move. We know they've been looking for Bruce. And the hostage takers are upset men, not criminals. Probably when they sober up they'll surrender."

She shook her head. "I meant, be careful about the Hulk."

Tony said confidently, "Bruce won't fight us; we're his pals."

"The Hulk is unpredictable," Pepper answered, picking up the bag Tony had dropped. "If Doctor Banner changes into that monster, you won't know how he'll react. So, please, don't go into this fight thinking he's on your side. Or trusting him. Please."

She turned then, and walked away to another exit and Steve laid a hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Let's go, Iron Man."

x x x

Briefing Room Three, Helicarrier.

"Sir. Banner's been ID'ed in Managua." Hill manipulated the virtual controls floating in front of her and the air in front of them exploded into color and sound. Fury stood up and moved next to her, standing shoulder to shoulder; they watched silently as the newscaster on the scene of the hostage situation explained that a group of Americans had been taken hostage inside of the Palacio Nacional de Cultura an hour ago. An American doctor had been allowed to enter the building to provide medical care.

Fury rubbed his chin as the footage showed a man walking towards the ornately decorated building, carrying two large duffel bags over his shoulders. His name was shouted by a reporter and he turned, startled. The camera zoomed in; Banner was dressed in battered jeans and a red T-shirt that was too large for his frame. He was thin but looked healthy enough. He didn't look half-starved, unlike some of the photos of Banner when he'd been on the run.

Banner's dark hair had gotten longer, curls tangling together, an unruly mess partly falling over his forehead. His eyes had widened as the automatic reflex of reacting to his name caught up with his brain. Fury could see his thoughts playing out on his face. Saw the second when he made the decision to stay and not run. Banner turned his back on the camera and made his way into the building.

On the screen the newscaster was talking about the Hulk, and a montage of images of the Hulk destroying helicopters and battling the Chitauri flashed across the screen.

Fury frowned. This was not how they had wanted to reacquire their runaway Avenger. This was going to be a fucking media circus, not the stealthy mission that would have disappeared their asset into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Screw Ross's domestic terrorist charges, that was a thin excuse to get the Hulk for experimentation to create more supersoldiers. It was doomed to fail, and they'd just end up with more monsters to deal with, like Blonsky.

Once S.H.I.E.L.D. had Banner he could talk the good doctor into seeing the advantages of being one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. He could join the Avengers for missions if they needed a heavy hitter and then disappear back into one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hidden facilities. Several had been constructed to hold the Hulk, if he had a temper tantrum. And the drug Hill had briefed him on months before would stop the Hulk if he decided not to cooperate. Banner could be made to see reason.

Fury froze the screen on that iconic image of the Hulk catching Iron Man as he was falling unconscious back to earth. "Banner's not going to hulk out, not on purpose. That buys us a little time. You've sent a team?"

Hill nodded. "Not Barton or Romanov. They're compromised. Quartermain's flying down to take charge with additional agents. Local agents should be arriving at the Plaza within minutes."

"Ross has scrambled his men?"

"Yes sir. There's Army personnel on site, but it will take him hours to assemble a Hulkbuster team. And we know Hydra will make a move. It's going to be a free-for-all." She hesitated, listening to her headset "Sir, Coulson's been apprised."

He narrowed his eye at her. "You think I should order the Avengers to stand down."

"Yes sir," she said firmly. Maria Hill never had minced her words with him. "They won't turn Banner over to Army custody and I doubt that they'd cooperate with us to hide Banner, either. They're going to break the law, sir. Spectacularly."

"It's a stupid law, Hill."

She raised her eyebrow slightly, her version of an eye roll. "What are your orders, sir?"

"No direct conflict with Ross. If the Army's not in the picture and Banner can be persuaded to come in, then take him to a Hulk equipped safe house. If he declines, trank his ass. The Council won't let us go toe to toe with Ross but if we can make Banner disappear, they'll stay hands off."

"As long as our involvement is unknown," she clarified, and he knew she was mentally organizing what this mission would need to be successful.

"That's correct."

"If Hydra gets to him first..." She was asking if they would risk their own operatives to retrieve Banner if he was captured.

"Do you really think I'd let an asset like the Hulk be used by unfriendlies?"

"You're a good poker player, sir. I suspect Banner believed you about being on his own," Hill said.

"Banner doesn't do much bluffing. He folds. He runs."

"He's run into a dead-end this time."

"Walked into it with his eyes wide open," Fury countered. "Man's shown he has a habit of doing that." And that was why he'd believed that Banner had it in him to be on the team of superheroes Fury had brought together. Despite living in desperation and hiding for years, Banner had come to the Helicarrier with his eyes wide open, then too, to help if he could, despite the danger of being incarcerated by S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Sir. The Avengers."

"Are a wild card. Get me Coulson on the comm."

x x x