Chapter 2: Surprises and Baseball; Steve Comes Home
AN: I hope you all liked my last chapter; this one is going to reveal a lot of stuff about Steve to SHIELD that they didn't know. (Purposefully, Peggy wasn't gonna put that stuff on record, and neither was Howard.) And we finally get to see the last scene of the First Avenger. YAY! I am going to wait for the reunion until the next chapter, so that it doesn't juxtapose with the rehashed stuff from Steve's wake up, but you will see a lot a medical, or pseudo medical stuff. I will try to be accurate but I'm an artist, not a doctor. So faults are all mine.
Onto the fic
To say that Clint didn't get any sleep that night would be an understatement. The blond archer spent several long minutes with Yasha and his brother trying to come to grips with the fact that Captain America, Steve Rogers was alive; after nearly seventy years frozen in ice, he was still alive. After it finally hit him that the Captain was really alive, Clint realized that he had to tell someone, and he knew of no better person that Phil Coulson. Clint quickly disentangled himself from Yasha and handed him off to his best friend, before rushing out of the room with the hopes of catching Phil before he went home.
By the time Clint caught up with his handler he was already waylaid by Natasha. The calm red head raised a manicured eyebrow at Clint as he rushed across the lot. Once the archer caught his breath, Clint told him about the Valkyrie and about Steve Rogers. Coulson at first paled in shock at the discovery of the Valkyrie, and then he turned positively giddy at the prospect of seeing Steve Rogers' body. But once Clint told him that Captain Rogers was alive and that he was on his way back to their trauma center in New York, the normally unruffled agent looked about ready to faint. A fact which made Romanoff smirk slightly, knowing it came from Coulson's inner fanboy.
But Clint never got to see the Captain in the flesh, because he was called to Fury's office with a new assignment a few hours later.
"Babysitting," Clint drawled once he saw the mission brief, his eyebrow ticking up in the same bland look that Coulson had perfected years before.
"Not babysitting," Fury corrected, "simply observing and keeping an eye on an asset of important interest. Selvig is one of the best in the field of Astrophysics and he is working with an object of near unlimited power. People tend to go crazy over things like that, and I want insurance that no one is going to sabotage Project Pegasus." Clint looked at Fury with an irritated frown.
"You know, if you wanted someone to spy on him, you could have just sent Romanoff," Clint argued, "she's far better at babysitting eccentric geniuses than I am. Plus she's got the experience." Fury cocked a half smirk and leaned forward on his desk.
"I know that," he replied, "but she's got bigger issues to deal with, and I need someone with unbiased sight to handle Selvig. I'm sending Coulson with you," Fury added, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers thoughtfully in front of his face. Clint's brows rose at that and he gave Fury a surprised look. "Lord knows that man would just love to meet Rogers in the flesh," Fury said as he rolled his eyes, "but I need him else were. He'll be following you in a few days. But for now he's going to be escorting Rogers' unconscious body back to our trauma center. It's the only compromise I can give the man to let him anywhere near Rogers." Clint stifled a snort and tried to school his features but knew he had failed when Fury shot him a scathing look. How that man could glare so fiercely with only one eye was anyone's guess, but Clint never wanted to know what it was like before he lost an eye. Clint's amused smirk fell of his face and into resignation with a sigh.
"Yes, sir," Clint said with military practice. "I'll keep an eye on the scientist until Coulson can drag himself away from the Captain." That time he couldn't suppress the smirk, and left the room with a salute and the feeling of daggers being glared into his back.
All this chaos and it was only 5am. Clint sighed, just another day at the office.
Clint Said goodbye to Yasha a few minutes later and gave the poor man a desperately needed hug.
"Good luck, kid," he whispered into Yasha's ear. Yasha's only response was to hug Clint just a little bit tighter. "He's gonna love ya." Clint pulled away with an encouraging smile, to which Yasha returned with a trembling smile of his own. Clint watched as he walked away from the tarmac back towards the barracks. He honestly hoped that the Captain was every bit the man that Yasha obviously looked up to his whole life, and he desperately hoped that the young agent was not disappointed.
The flight back from the arctic was quiet and full of barely held tension. The doctors were all hovering around the still pale and motionless form of Steve Rogers, lying on the gurney in front of them. By Col. Fury's orders, they had to stop attempting to resuscitate the Captain until they had reached base, where they would resume their attempts and hopefully revive the long lost hero. One of the guards involved was Lieutenant Richardson. He was among the team that had found the Captain and he felt that there was no greater honor than to bring the long lost Hero home. That was before he was informed that the Captain was alive and that they were going to attempt to revive him back at base. Daniel was a former Ranger, and had grown up hearing about the famous Captain America as a kid. Those stories, no matter how awesome they were, they were nothing compared to the real thing he heard from some of the old timers that had actually met the man. Saturday morning cartoons had nothing on the epic tales of heroism and courage that followed the Captain like a war banner. The legends around him made the Captain almost myth-like but here he was guarding the man himself as the Doctors scrambled around him for scans and non-invasive tests that could be done without further thawing of the body.
There was an honor guard with them as well, from when they had informed their superiors that they had found a long lost American Hero. These men, just young boys had probably heard the same stories that Daniel had, but they didn't have the luxury of having real firsthand accounts to base their respect on; just the Saturday morning cartoons and comics that had grown up with as kids. So they had looked at the man with barely concealed awe, or rather the body of the man, as they had thought the Captain was dead. They had been sent by the General of 53rd Army, who had absorbed the 107th infantry of New York in the 90s after they had been disbanded. The General wanted Captain Rogers to be returned to New York and Brooklyn for a state funeral with all the pomp and circumstance of a former president, as befitted the Hero of Brooklyn. This planning and organizing all came to a screeching halt when the Doctor had declared that Captain Rogers was still alive. All the plans of the news being broke with the six o clock morning news was crushed ruthlessly under the boot of SHIELD and their need to keep such news secret. It was a shock to even the scarred director himself that the brave Captain was still alive, but it was news that would not leave SHIELD until they were good and ready.
Personally Daniel thought it was stupid, but Fury answered to the Council, and they probably would just love to get their hands on the living breathing symbol of the Greatest Generation. But he wasn't paid to give his opinion, just investigate, report or guard important artifacts, and this… this was the most important thing he had ever guarded in his life.
Seeing the man in person was so much more than he ever could have dreamed, but also very different. For one, Rogers wasn't golden haired to the point of fair, like in the comics and later cartoons would depict him as, but rather his hair was a very light brown with sun kissed highlights streaking through the top of his hair. All in all it looked even more stunning that the Cartoons. And another thing was that Steve Rogers had a thick lower lip that looked nothing like the comics drawings of the man, who had thin lips and a stern expression cut permanently into his mouth. Rogers' lips cut into a very soft line, that Daniel could easily see turning into a wide inviting smile, as well as that patented Captain America Disapproves frown. Another thing the comics got wrong was how young he looked, and as Daniel looked at the man in the center of the flurry of doctors and scanners, he calculated in his head. He came to the shocking realization that the man before them was only 26 years old when he crashed the Valkyrie into the ice. Younger than Daniel's youngest nephew, and old enough to date his oldest daughter; College age really, just a kid. It was hard to reconcile the knowledge of what this man had done with the young man laying before him.
Daniel was suddenly jerked from his ruminations when two of the Doctors started conversing in a huddle in hushed tones. Curious, the lieutenant slid closer to listen, and after a minute he wished that he hadn't.
"That can't be possible," the head doctor said, looking down at the printout in his partner's hand. "Have you run the test again?" the man I question rolled his eyes and gave his superior a nasty look.
"Of course I have," he snapped, "you wouldn't think I'd bring this to your attention if I hadn't double and triple checked the results." He brandished the papers in front of his boss like a sword, and spoke in even harsher and more clipped tones, "Captain Rogers has elevated levels of Human Chorionic Gonadotropic Hormones, HCG; high levels. Now you and I both know that such high levels can only be present during pregnancy." The head scientist looked dubiously at his subordinate and tried to come up with an explanation.
"It could also be a tumor," he said and that sounded pathetic to even Daniel's ears. The other doctor scoffed and sent the man a scathing look.
"You and I both know that Captain Rogers was in the pique of physical health when he entered the HYRDA base in the Alps. Hormone levels like this are only present in cancerous tumors that are huge, and seeing as Captain Rogers is in pique physical fitness," he quipped running an eye over the Captain's thin and muscular form, "the only other explanation is pregnancy." The doctor tossed the file at him with a sneer. "Run a scan yourself, if you don't believe me."
The head doctor acquiesced and maneuvered a portable body scanner over Captain Rogers' body.
"I still say it's not possible," the man grumbled as he turned on the machine.
"Captain Rogers is also Numenorean," a different doctor chimed in, "and records have shown that those with genetic ties to the Royal family have the tendency of being hermaphrodites. Captain Rogers is the direct descendant of Arthadan, so it's not impossible." The doctor sent his colleague a scathing look and returned to his scanner. Daniel didn't know much about how it worked but it seemed to scan like an ultrasound but with much more resolution and detail. Soon enough there was an image of Captain Rogers' form on the screen, showing his muscles, bones and tissues. The head scientist focused in on the abdominal area and after a minute fiddling with the density penetration the doctor found something. It was not what he was expecting, because he took off his glasses and leaned into the screen for a closer look, his eyes widening as his jaw dropped to the floor.
"Well I'll be damned," he said to himself, his eyes wide with shock, "he's pregnant." The soldiers, guards and scientists all crowded around the screen for a look and though he had only seen one a few times Daniel knew enough about ultrasounds to see the shadowy outline of a womb and multiple shapes within.
"Hey doc," he said and all eyes turned to him, "I may not any expert, but I see multiples." The scientists all turned back to the screen and began to fiddle with the scan again. There was a sharp intake of breath when the blurry image finally came into focus.
"Oh my God," a nurse said with a breathless whisper, "there are four of them!"
"Check for vitals," Richards finally ordered when their superior stayed silent. The nurse slowly but carefully extracted Captain Rogers' belly from his nearly frozen clothes, and pressed an ultrasound wand directly to the lower abdomen. After a minute, of hearing nothing but the single slow beat of Rogers' enhanced heart, the distinctive sound of a smaller heart filled the craft. The nurse grinned and moved it to another spot and heard another. Twice more provided the same results, and she turned to her boss with an ecstatic grin.
"All four show life signs," she said. The head scientist looked at the four little dark blobs on the scan with awe, before he turned the scanner back on.
"This proves that it is genetic," Richards said with a grin. "Do you know how huge this is, Dr. Owens? Dr. Owens?" the head scientist ignored his subordinate for a long minute as he focused on the live scan and on the small figures he had narrowed it in on. "What is it?"
"The fetuses are at different stages of development," he answered.
"What," Richards exclaimed.
"See for yourself," he said and pushed the arm of the screen so that it swung around to face his subordinate. Richards looked the scan over and sure enough two of the fetuses were more developed than the others, and one of the smaller ones was even less developed.
"Incredible," Richards exclaimed. The lead scientist shook his head in wonder as he tried to puzzle out what this meant.
"There must have been a time when he wasn't fully frozen, or before his core began to freeze," he mused out loud, "it's the only thing that could account for the different growth. The bigger ones must have been the last to freeze."
"I think you're right," Richards said, and swung the screen back between them, "see here," he pointed, "the bigger ones are at around at least thirteen weeks development for a Numenorean, whereas the smaller one is at maybe eight and four for the smallest. That would make date of conception around mid to late December."
"Captain Rogers had leave around Christmas with the Commandoes," Daniel spoke up, and the others all swung around to look at him with varying expressions of confusion and shock. "It's something that one of the old 107th told me once. Barnes and the others got leave and he used it to propose to his sweetheart. Could have happened then, easily." The doctors all look thoughtfully at each other, and then at the scan.
"Sounds reasonable," the lead scientist said, "we won't know for sure until… until he wakes up," the doctor finished uneasily. A laugh startled its way out of him and he shook his head. "This is nuts! A couple of hours ago this man was frozen cold dead in a solid block of ice, and now… we're all talkin' about him waking up and answering questions about his sex life!" chuckles erupted throughout the scientists and stifled snickers through the soldiers and honor guard.
When they arrived back at base, they were met by none other than Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD and president of the Captain America fan club. The doctors and scientists all smiled good-naturedly at the man's obvious excitement at meeting his all-time hero, but at the moment his presence was making things difficult. The scientists met him at the hangar door as they rushed him out of the plane and onto a SHIELD issue QuinJet repurposed for emergency med-evac. Coulson followed them as they rushed Rogers' slowly thawing body into the jet and took a seat beside his head. The doctors have finally and carefully extracted his body from the block it had been incased in, and were working on thawing him entirely, keeping an eye on his vitals as they placed a set of fetal heart monitors on his belly. Coulson raised a brow to this but was ignored in favor of starting up the monitors and watching the life signs of the babies. Coulson's eyebrows climbed up to his hairline when he saw the steady but faint pulse of the four fetuses on their monitors. The SHIELD agent took out his phone and sent a quick text to his boss.
COULSON: 'Did you know Rogers was pregnant?' the reply came a minute later.
FURY: 'WHAT!' Coulson took a quick picture of Rogers attached to fetal heart monitors and the doctors' screens showing the ultrasounds, and sent it off in text.
FURY: 'Oh Hell!' Coulson smirked slightly and waited for Fury's next text.
FURY: 'I'll warn the trauma team, and have a specialist waiting in the lab.'
COULSON: J 'thank you, sir.'
Coulson stashed his phone away and took a long good look at his hero. He was taller than expected, and also thinner, but he more than made up for it with his broad shoulders and thick barrel chest. He was undoubtedly handsome and so very young. Coulson noted the change of pitch in the engines as they switched to the turbines and began their decent onto the landing pad at SHIELD headquarters New York.
"Alright people," the head scientist said, "we treat this like a regular case of severe hypothermia. We first need to get his uniform off and then get him dry. Richards," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," the doctor in question asked.
"Did you call ahead and inform them that we need warm saline on standby," he asked.
"Yes sir," the doctor replied, "I also took the liberty of asking them to pull Captain Rogers medical files from storage. They might have more info on what we are dealing with here."
"Very good," Dr. Owens said with a curt nod. Coulson stood up as the plane jolted when its landing gear finally touched the ground. The doctors all gathered around Rogers with their hands holding equipment and important materials attached to Rogers' unconscious and still unmoving form. The Jet's ramp lowered to the ground and the team was off like a shot, rushing across the landing pad and towards the elevator to take them to the prepped trauma room.
Coulson followed quickly behind them and managed to squeeze into the emergency elevator behind Rogers. The doctors all ignored him as they watched Captain Rogers' vitals like hawks. The doors opened and they pushed their patient and gurney towards the room at the end of the hall. Doctors and nurses all parted as the crew pushed their way towards the trauma room, and each and every one of them stared in awe at the man on the gurney as he passed.
"Alright everyone, on three… one, two, THREE," the lead doctor commanded and as one they all heaved Steve off the gurney and onto the table. Steve's form shook limply from the movement but otherwise he remained motionless. The doctors separated and started grabbing tools. "Richards, Jenkins, help me get these clothes off him," Dr. Owens ordered. The two scientists quickly grabbed a set of scissors and began cutting the uniform off the Captain's limp form. "Nurse Randalls, I need you to check his lungs, see if they're clear. If they are, intubate, we need to get him breathing again." The nurse in question grabbed a stethoscope and began just that.
"Yes, doctor," she said.
"Malcolm, I need you to prep him for multiple IV's," Owens ordered, "We need to get his core warmed up and fast. Gregors, where's that portable CT scanner? We need to check his brain activity."
"On it boss," the doctor responded and pulled the scanner around to fit at Steve's head.
"What the hell," Richards exclaimed when his scissors suddenly broke as they reached the Captain's hips. The head scientist and lead doctor's head whipped around to look at his subordinate.
"What happened," he asked as his two doctors held up their broken or mangled scissors. "What the hell did that?"
"I don't know," Richards answered, "looks like he's wearing some kind of body armor under this." Richards ducked down and peeled away the cloth from Rogers' skin to investigate. "Jenkins, give me a hand," he ordered as he began to cut up the inseam of the pans with a new pair of scissors.
"What the…" Jenkins exclaimed when he saw something shiny under the uniform but over a standard issue t shirt. Richards carefully placed his scissors between the shiny material and the Captain's uniform and began to cut across the side to open up the top; slowly pulling the cloth up as he went. After a few clips from the shears Richards pulled the cloth up enough to reveal a shining shirt of finely crafted ring chainmail wrapped around the Captain's torso. Richards pulled the shirt up to reveal the finely crafted edge bound with gold and silver wire. The rings themselves were finely wrought and tiny, each one smaller than a pinky nail. Each one was bound to the other in a way that bespoke of hand craftsmanship and great wealth. The shirt was fitted, but could easily be slipped on and off, over the head, and had been tucked into Captain Rogers' pants between the layers of his shirt and armor.
Richards picked up a magnifying glass and inspected the band for a makers mark, and to his shock found that every single ring was stamped with an eight pointed star. Now, Richards wasn't a particularly historical man but even he knew the symbol of the Lord of Eregion, and the moment he saw it he knew why his scissors shattered.
"Mithril," he breathed in awe.
"Whoa," Jenkins gasped in disbelief at the fine craft of the ring chainmail. "Guess there was some truth to those old rumors." Owens took a moment to gawk at the silver steel shirt before he shook himself out of his stupor.
"Continue on, Richards; Jenkins," he ordered, and the two carefully began to cut the outer armor from Steve Rogers' body; leaving the ring Chainmail untouched. Once the uniform could be peeled off the Captain's form without fear they turned their attention to the chainmail. They obviously couldn't cut it; they didn't have anything that could, and even then they wouldn't dare. If it was as old as they believed, it was priceless beyond its monetary value, for its historical importance. So ever so carefully they slowly raised the Captain's arms and slipped the chainmail off his form. The t shirt had to be cut off, but then they had an unblocked access to Steve's skin and vital core. Sensors and IV's were quickly attached and soon they were monitoring the Captain in real time.
The nurses monitored his vitals and brain activity while the doctors and other scientists closely watched his fetal heart monitors. Steve's core temp slowly but surely began to rise as the warm saline flowed through his veins.
"This is incredible," Richards said as he watched the Captain's body core temp slowly rise above sixty degrees. "It's like his blood was never frozen." His coworker stared down at the blood work before him with a contemplative look on his face.
"That's because it didn't," Jenkins said as it dawned upon him. He looked up with an awed smile, and said, "Arctic Cod." Richards and Owens gasped in realization as they got his meaning.
"You're saying that the Serum adapted his blood to deal with the cold," Owens said, "a sort of natural anti-freeze like that found in arctic cod."
"Precisely," Jenkins said with a broad smile.
"This is incredible," Richards exclaimed. Suddenly an alarm on the monitors started to go off, breaking their joyous moment of scientific breakthrough.
"Doctor," Nurse Randalls exclaimed in panic, "he's bleeding!" the trio of scientists quickly rushed to Rogers form and sure enough found a slowly growing pool of blood emerging from under the Captain's form.
"Where's the bleed coming from," Owens asked as he tried to ascertain that information for himself. Soon he found his answer. "Oh no," he said realization and despair.
"Doctor, fetus three and four are showing signs of distress," one of the nurses exclaimed.
"Captain Rogers is having uterine contractions," another proclaimed.
"Move his legs up, and put them in stirrups," Owens ordered Richards, as he moved to the Captain's abdomen with an ultrasound wand. Just as he was about to place the wand on Steve's belly, the Captain suddenly jerked and sucked in a choked breath.
"Goddamn," Jenkins swore, "get him on his side!" the team worked in barely controlled panic as they struggled to pull the muscular man onto his side. After a herculean effort they finally had him turned over, when the Captain jerked again and coughed out a lungful of half frozen water, gasping and coughing for a moment before his deep raspy breaths evened out into pain filled and shuddering from cold.
"Brain activity is increasing," Gregors said with wide eyes.
"How is this possible," Jenkins exclaimed with shock.
"Core body temp is above 75 degrees, and rising," Malcolm announced, "he's shivering. His natural cold response is coming back."
"I'm reading Alpha wave activity," Gregors exclaimed with horror, "doctor, he's waking up!"
"Hell," Owens cursed and rushed to one of the medicine cabinets. He opened the glass door and grabbed a single glass vial and hypo. With all the care of an ER doctor he pulled the cap off the hypo with his teeth and jabbed the needle into the cork top of the vial. With years of experience and practice he pulled the plunger out and slowly filled the hypodermic with the gold tinted liquid. After the hypo was full, he removed it from the vial. A few quick taps from his finger as he depressed the plunger expelled any air trapped inside the chamber before a light spurt came from the tip of the needle. Assured of its safety, Owens grabbed one of the IV's and added the hypo to it, depressing the plunger and causing the liquid to flow quickly into the Captain's veins.
The group watched with bated breath as the Captains brainwaves dipped back down into sleep, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Doctor," Richards said as he picked up the discarded medicine vial and looked at its contents, "this stuff was specially formulated for Romanoff. And you just gave him ten times the amount! Is he gonna be alright?"
"Yeah," Owens said with a heavy sigh. "Captain Rogers has an enhanced metabolism four times that of an Olympic athlete; he'll need that amount. We need to keep him in a coma until we're sure that his brain activity is normal." Owens took a deep calming breath before he turned back to his subordinates and directed them to put the Captain back on his back. They rolled him back over and the nurses carefully placed his legs in the stirrups. The sight between the Captain's legs was a graphic display of horror. Blood was smeared between the crux of the thighs, painting the pale legs a ghastly red and black, and it was still flowing from the hidden orifice behind the scrotum. Owens gulped and looked back up at the nurse manning the fetal vitals with hopeful eyes. The looks she returned was damning in its sorrow.
"Doctor," She said with a soft tone.
"The babies," he inquired with fading hope. She slowly shook her head with sad and soulful eyes.
"We lost fetuses three and four," she answered, tears in her eyes and then sympathy as she looked at the still sleeping Captain. Owens, Richards and Jenkins all closed their eyes and hung their heads in quiet shame. After having a long moment of mourning for the lives lost, they shoved it ruthlessly down to continue reviving the Good Captain. Owens took his position between Rogers' legs and began the work of cleaning away the bloody gore that continued to flow from between his legs. After a moment Rogers' abdomen visibly clenched and there was a gush of blood and clear fluid from the orifice.
"Richards, hand me a speculum," Owens ordered, and the man in question did just that. The doctor inserted the clean metal device into the vaginal opening and carefully began widening the speculum with steady and slow cranks. "Jenkins," he said as he stopped to look into the orifice. "Please inform Director Fury that the Captain as just suffered a partial miscarriage. And make sure that those specialists are made aware of his condition." Jenkins nodded solemnly as he left to make the report. As he turned and made his way to the doors he heard a soft female voice speak.
"He's so young," she said, "and to lose them both." A second voice followed.
"They were both boys," she said, "they're so small." Jenkins clenched his jaw against the well of tears that threatened to overwhelm him at hearing the sorrow in their voices, and walked through the doors; leaving the horror of blood and dead babies behind him.
He found Coulson just down the hall talking in hushed tones to Fury's second, Maria Hill. The moment they saw his approach, they stopped talking and turned to face him.
"Dr. Jenkins," Hill asked professionally, "Agent Coulson just informed me that Captain Rogers is pregnant with multiples." Jenkins nodded.
"There were four," he confirmed, and the sharp woman quickly picked up on his sad tone and use of past tense.
"Were," she asked. Jenkins nodded solemnly and swallowed around the tightness in his throat.
"Captain Rogers has suffered a partial miscarriage," he replied and licked his lips to help him continue. "We lost fetuses three and four; the smallest ones." Hill looked momentarily saddened before it vanished behind the cold mask of professional distance.
"What about the other two," She asked. Jenkins puffed out a breath as he thought about the scans and vitals he had seen.
"I'm not an expert," he started, "but… I don't think it's likely that they both survive." Hill contemplated this before she looked back at the doctor.
"But you're not sure," she asked. Jenkins shook his head.
"No, I'm not," he said, "I'm not an expert. I'm not an OBGYN. I have no idea if he will even carry them to term. But from what I saw…" he sighed, "no, I don't think they'll both make it. There might be a chance that one would survive but he would need an expert to help with that. My advice is to call in a Numenorean Healer. They know more about his physiology than we could ever hope to, and they might have a way of saving the babies." Hill nodded.
"Your advice is noted, doctor," Hill said and Jenkins knew when he was being dismissed, so he walked away back to the trauma room to continue aiding in the Captain's revival.
It's an overcast day on the seventeenth, the dark and low clouds heavy with the promise of rain. The groups that have been in charge of the Captain finally stabilized his condition, and that of his unborn children, enough for him to be moved to HQ in Manhattan. The steady IV drip of sedatives keeping him asleep while they underwent procedures to remove the failed pregnancies had long since been removed and a large dose of sedatives was injected for slow release to keep him out until they were ready to wake him.
The room was prepared on a soundstage with an open window and fake scenery outside with sound effects to simulate New York City from the forties. The interior was painted a drab white with a muted green lower border. The room was furnished with what little they could find in so short a time that looked period. Simple painted furniture in white and even some old depression wear vases, decorated the tops of the dressers and the vanity. A small tube radio sat on the vanity dresser playing recorded baseball and news reports from the era; while a twin metal frame bed was procured and placed in the room facing the door. A chair of similar make joined it at the foot of the bed beside the vanity and opposite the bed on the wall by the head. A pair of large white painted water-heater radiator units was placed under the two windows, which were kept open to let in the simulated sound of the street traffic below.
It was all created to trick the man they had just defrosted into thinking that he was still in the forties. But they all seemed to forget that the Captain was a very intelligent man and would be quick to notice the flaws in their hasty reconstruction. The female agent assigned to be there to welcome him was fashioned after the man's famous love interest, Peggy Carter, in hopes that it would keep him just off enough balance to miss the fake quality of the room. Her name was Macy Sinclair and she hated the very idea of dressing up as a 1940s agent, mostly because of the hair prep involved and the muted makeup and drab clothes, not to mention the undergarments.
But this all swung on the miss conception that Steve Rogers was a simple minded Soldier, when he really was anything but. And they all learned this the hard way when the Captain finally woke up.
The first thing he heard was the soft hiss of the radio, but that couldn't have been right, because the radio broke on impact. The second thing he heard was that there was a soft and familiar voice coming across the static. Red Barber was calling a Dodgers game at Ebbets Field. It was familiar in a good way, but then as he opened his eyes he realized that something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it but as he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings he realized that something was off. He looked around the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary but something just didn't feel right. He pulled his arm away from his side and suddenly realized how stiff he felt. He pulled them away from his sides with some effort and looked down at them. He saw that he was undressed, or at least, wasn't wearing his uniform. With slow and careful movements Steve turned and sat up on the side of the bed. His body felt stiff and heavy, and his belly had a painful soreness he had never felt before, so he winced as he sat up and decided against just sitting in the bed and carefully rolled to side on the edge of the mattress. As he sat up and turned he saw the room better, but his mind was still whirling with the fact that he was alive.
Did Howard find him, he thought. Had the self-proclaimed genius triangulated his position from his last transmission? It made sense but something didn't just feel right. Then it slowly dawned on him: the Game. He recognized those calls. He turned to the radio to try and confirm it, looking out the window to the buildings across the street before he looked at the radio on the vanity. The buildings looked flat, almost colorless too, and the sounds from outside didn't seem right, almost like they were coming from a speaker. But before he could contemplate it more the game caught his attention.
'Three runs'll score, Reiser heads to third, Durocher's gonna wave him in. here comes the relay but they won't get him.' Suddenly the door opened and a young woman walked in, breaking his concentration in trying to place just when that game was.
"Good morning," she said calmly, as she closed the door. Then she looked at her watch and revised her statement, "or should I say afternoon." She stopped a few feet away from the bed and Steve instantly saw that her dress was wrong. The way it fell across her chest was too rounded and flat for the brassieres he had seen in the USO and the way she stood was almost military. Her tie was too wide and non-regulation for a woman in the military.
"Where am I," he asked trying to keep his tone calm and non-hostile. His mother raised him to be a polite young man, no matter if she may be a HYDRA agent he wasn't going to make her uneasy until he knew for sure what was going on. She paused for a half a second before she answered, and from what he remembered of Peggy and Bucky's teaching in interrogation, he knew what was about to come out of her mouth was a lie.
"You're in a recovery room in New York City," she said with a bland smile. Suddenly he became aware of the game again.
'The Dodgers take the lead eight to four. Oh, Doctor! Everyone is on their feet.' Barber called, and with all the sudden clarity of a vision, Steve could see the field: the Dodgers clamoring onto the field and the fans all on their feet and shouting with joy. He could see the Phillies in their uniforms being overwhelmed by the Dodgers clamoring onto the field to pile onto Reiser. He could hear the cheers of the fans and he could hear Bucky screaming with the best of them on his right; his popcorn and peanuts on the ground in his haste to get to his feet. 'What a game we had today folks, what a game indeed.' Suddenly Steve knew when the game was and he knew without a doubt that she was lying.
"Where am I, really," he demanded as he looked back at the woman. She looked flustered but hid it well, and that really got the hairs on the back of his neck on end.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," she answered with a nervous smile, and Steve knew without a doubt that she was no ally and that he was not safe.
"The Game," he explained, "it's from May, 1941; I know 'cause I was there." The fake agent suddenly went pale and her eyes widened. She realized they had made a mistake in underestimating him and tried to keep herself calm. He face went blank and cold, ad Steve just knew she was going to try to spin the lie again but he wasn't buying it. Slowly and with every bit of his height, Steve stood up from the bed and loomed menacingly over her. Steve felt a twinge of regret at doing it, and his ma would be rolling in her grave if she knew he was threatening a woman, but he had no choice. If she was HYDRA he couldn't trust her. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again," he said in his most threatening voice and he took two steps towards her and loomed with all his menacing height, "Where am I?"
"Captain Rogers," she started But Steve wasn't going to let he lie again.
"Who are you?!" he demanded. A second later two thugs, or guards, entered the room through the door. They wore strange black armor and carried stranger guns, with black baseball caps on their heads. They stepped behind the woman and loomed behind her. Steve took them in with wide eyes and quickly assessed their strengths and his odds. It took less than a second for him to realize he had to get out of there as fast as he could, and that meant through the thugs, or to make his own door.
In the split second it took for one of them to raise his gun, Steve chose the latter. He grabbed both men and knocked them back through the opposite wall with a strong kick. The wall crumpled and fell into pieces like cardboard and he dove out after them. A quick glance showed him that his instincts were right, and that it was a soundstage before he bolted for the door, the real door, leaving the men rolling on the floor and groaning.
"Captain Rogers, wait," the fake agent called as he ran for the double doors on the other side of the room. Steve forced the metal doors open with all his strength and broke whatever lock was on them as he rushed for the outside. The woman's voice sounded through an intercom a second later. "All Agents, code 13. I repeat: All agents, code 13." Steve had just reached a main hall with windows when her alarm got the attention of the men in suits in the hall. One of them called out and pointed at him, and Steve realized he was screwed if he didn't make tracks and fast. He flailed for a moment on the slippery floor and booked it for the doors knocking down men in suits and armor that got in his way, shoving them aside and down; not even stopping when he reached the open doors and rushed out onto the street. The street was full of pedestrians and strange cars, but Steve didn't give himself a moment to contemplate or look at his surroundings and took off down the street. He ran down the side street and out into an open square and as he turned and looked up, a sick realization caused him to slow and stop. He looked up and all around him, and suddenly he realized why everything looked eerily familiar: he was in Times Square.
This was New York. He was home. But it looked nothing like the home he had left behind two years earlier. This New York was full of flashing lights and moving pictures on bill boards all in bright living color. There were signs everywhere, but under the flash and flair Steve could see the bones of his city, just buried very far beneath. He turned around twice and stared, barely realizing that he was also being stared at as he tried to wrap his head around how his city could change so much in so little time. Suddenly multiple large black cars blocked his exit, and agents in the same black armor poured out to block his path. Other agents dressed in suits pushed back the crowds as Steve heard a voice call out from behind him.
"At ease, Soldier," the man commanded. Steve turned, still on edge and on guard as a tall black man with an eye patch on his left eye approached him. This was obviously the leader, and if he was, he was most definitely not HYDRA; after all HYDRA were Nazis and they made it perfectly clear what they thought of colored men. "Look I'm sorry about the show back there, but…" he said, and paused for a moment, "we thought it was best to break it to you slowly." The man seemed sympathetic to Steve's plight but this only confused Steve more.
"Break what," he asked his brows furrowed as he slowly panted, still on edge. The man didn't answer and looked at Steve with an almost sad look in his eye, before it vanished behind a blank mask.
"You've been asleep, Cap," he said, "for almost 70 years." Seventy years; the knowledge hit Steve like a ton of bricks, but as he looked around at all the changes to his city, it sank in that the world had changed while he slept. Then with a great well of sorrow building up in his chest, he realized that all his friends would either be old or dead.
"Did we win," Steve asked with a weak sense of hope.
"Hell, yes," the man answered, "unconditional surrender." Steve looked around at the city that had won the war and lived through so many years that he had missed, trying to wrap his head and heart around these new facts. "You gonna be okay," the man asked not unkindly.
"Yeah," he answered, "Yeah, I just…" Steve started his heart finally breaking in two as he realized he broke his promise. And with a hoarse and quiet voice, his heart falling into a thousand pieces, he said to himself, "I had a date."
TBC…
Endnotes: well… what do you think?
I watched that scene too many times just to get his thought process right, but I hope I conveyed his grief as he realized that he missed his chance with Peggy. That last little clip was taken from the extended version of the scene. I like that his first reaction after realizing how much time had passed was to ask about the war, I just didn't like the rest. It was just too pushy to me. I want Steve to have that thought in his mind that he can still quit and go home without being trapped in the role of the Captain forever.
The other stuff was just me pulling on some of the ER shows I watched when I was younger, and some of the other medical dramas I have seen. The big wake up scene was always ambiguous to me. But once I started looking at period costumes and clothes, looking at the scene I could tell that the biggest give away that something wasn't right wasn't the game, it was the woman's bra! She was wearing a modern bra under period clothes. And Steve isn't stupid, he lived with those chorus girls for months on the road, he had to have seen something. And probably blushed as red as a tomato afterwards, how shy he was. (So sweet) so yeah, the bra would have clued him in and then the game would have clinched it.
I hope you like this and please comment if you have thoughts.
Next up: Steve meets Yasha.