Chapter 11: Becoming a Father

AN: this is going to be a hard chapter to write, because it comes right after an equally hard chapter to write. I'll try to make sure I don't wreck this. For some reason I think my vision of this changed over the course of writing the other ones and is a little different than how I outlined it. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to get those two views to mesh and hopefully work out.

This is baby time. Sorry please don't hurt me for taking that little trope, for sacrificing one of the babies, but I had to do something for a little drama.

On to the Fic

Tony had finally given up on trying to read the magazine. He huffed out in frustration and tossed it back on the table. He ran a hand over his haggard face, trying to regain some composure over the raging storm of emotion going on in his head. Finally he couldn't take any more of the waiting and stood up. The others all looked up and gave him matching looks of concern.

"I can't take this anymore," Tony said.

"Stark, we'll know when we know," Natasha said calmly, her eyes tracking him as he began to pace behind his chair.

"Yeah, right," Tony scoffed with a brittle and sarcastic smile. He ran a frazzled hand through his hair, his eyes wide and wild before he stopped behind the chair. "If he was alright we would have known something by now. I mean, it would be just like SHIELD to cut us out of the know, just because they can. How do we even know that they're even trying to save him, hmm," Tony asked, his hands flying in rapid gestures. He pointed to the wall with wide and teary eyes, and said, "He could be bleeding out in there, for all we know, and they wouldn't tell us." Thor snarled and stood.

"They wouldn't dare," he thundered. "He just saved their lives. We saved them; the least we deserve is to be informed of our Captain's condition." Clint's lips pulled into a bitter smile.

"It wouldn't be the first time SHIELD cut their losses," he said bitterly.

"Clint," Natasha chided him, but Clint grimaced and pulled away, standing up to put some distance between them.

"No," he said, "you know what, Nat, I know you put your trust in them, but you didn't see Yasha's face when he found out Steve was alive." he told her, a look of anger and disgust on his face, "you weren't there when they told him that he couldn't see the only blood relation he had left in the world. It crusted him," Clint said. "If Yasha didn't have Steve's stubbornness and temper, he might never have met him. Nat, you didn't see the look on his face when he talked to me after meeting him. SHIELD would do anything to keep their best black ops agent from getting compromised." He scoffed and gestured to the wall, "Hell, I bet if Jonathan hadn't found out, they never would have told him." he pointed at the wall again with complete seriousness. "Steve and that baby in there are the only real family that kid's got, and you know how much family means to him," he said. Natasha sat calmly for a moment before she nodded in agreement.

"Steve's physician is a Numenorean Healer," Bruce finally spoke, playing with his glasses before he looked up. "I've worked with them before. They know more about healing and helping their own people than we ever could. Steve's in the best of hands. I have no doubt that they would do everything in their power to save Steve. He's their prince. They would want him alive." Tony and the others nodded before turning to the door to see the doctor, the Healer, and Fury all standing in the doorway. Natasha and Bruce stood, waiting for the news.

The doctor swallowed and cleared his throat before moving to stand by the wall near Bruce. The Healer took his spot by Tony behind his former chair, while Fury stood between the two, hands on hips, head hung low.

"Doctor," Fury said, "would you care to inform us of the Captain's condition?" the doctor looked slightly distressed, but cleared his throat and spoke.

"I am not an expert on Numenorean physiology," he began and turned to the healer at his side, "so if I may, I think I will differ to my colleague on this matter." The healer nodded graciously and bowed his head.

"Hannon le," he said, and turned to the group (Thank you). "It appears that your initial assessment of Captain Rogers' condition was correct, Dr. Banner," he told the graying scientist. "Steve… the Captain, was carrying twins." He paused genuinely saddened before he looked up with mournful gray eyes. "It appears that Steve suffered some sort of abdominal trauma, a blow or perhaps a fall, that caused some significant damage. As a result, his body rejected the less viable fetus, and was more than likely going to reject the other if we hadn't caught it in time." The group all shared a nervous look before Tony addressed the Healer.

"What about Steve," he asked, "is he gonna be okay?" the healer took a deep fortifying breath, before answering.

"That will be up to him," he said, and when he saw all the confused looks on their faces he clarified. "Captain Rogers… Steve is… well to be completely frank, he's considered to be half-elven. His genes contain at the very least 75% Elven alleles. Both his parents were the same. As a result, he's more elvish than Numenorean." He paused gathering his thoughts before he continued, "I've spent my career studying the physiology and anatomy of the Eldar. They're more of a spiritual race than a physical. One of my teachers explained it this way: the Edain, Men, are frail in body, but strong of mind and spirit. Elves, the Eldar, on the other hand, are the complete opposite: they are frail of spirit, but not of will, or body. They're physically stronger than us, more durable. They can withstand things that could kill us, but things that we can shrug off, like an emotional trauma, such as losing a babe, they can't. It damages them, so much so that they… quite literally die of grief. They call it fading." Tony's face had become waxen and his eyes wide and red with the effort to hold back his tears.

"So," Tony asked hesitantly, "will he… fade?" the healer licked his lips and answered.

"As I said, that's up to him," he replied. "If he has a strong bond or emotional tie to keep him with us, he might pull through." He licked his lips again and addressed the group, "but that all depends on how strong the tie is. Love is a very strong emotion, and we're doing everything in our power to strengthen that bond by trying to save other child. Captain Rogers also has…" he started but stopped when he heard a commotion outside in the hall.

"I don't care who you think you are," a voice shouted, quite angrily, then bellowed, "Get out of my way!" Tony and the others shared a look of distress, before ducking into the wide hallway to see a group of SHIELD security guards trying to block the path of a tall blond haired man in full Numenorean regalia.

"What the hell is going on here," Fury shouted, and the officers turned to answer him only for the man's partner, a very, very tall redhead to pull one of the men aside and pin him with a single hand to the wall.

Even though they had met, that didn't mean Tony was paying any attention to him, but now, hyped up on fear and worry for Steve, he had the time to get a good look at this Maedhros guy that had held so much of Steve's respect. The guy was built like a Greek God, with the height an NBA star could only dream of having. He had to be over seven foot! He was also dressed like he had walked out of a fantasy movie set in full battle gear. His armor was well fitted plates of overlapping strips of metal shaped like large leaves across the breast plate then thinner ones down the sides. His shoulder guards, or pauldrons, were overlapping leaves expertly molded around his shoulders. The connecting gorget was covered by the cloth of the man's bright red cloak, the straps overlapping to cross at the front and was clasped under the arms. The cape was pinned at one side on the left to give that arm free movement, but there were swords attached to both sides of his belt. He wore a very long robe under the armor that opened at the waist, and fell to just below his shins, but well above the ankle. Under this could be seen the distinctive sheen of ring chainmail that also opened at just above the crotch, underneath which were a pair of padded dark trousers made of some sort of doe skin. He had on a pair of dark leather, soft sole boots protected by more armor in the form of greaves. The similarly designed leg armor was matched by the vambraces on his arms covering half gloves to protect his palms. This whole look was majestic and fantastical and to be frank, he looked like an extra from Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings, only this guy didn't just look like an extra; he was the real deal: an elf.

His bright red hair caught the light and shimmered in a multitude of reds, browns and bright golden copper. The overall affect made his hair almost look like flames from a distance, and unlike most true redheads, his hair was smooth and shiny; well mostly shiny. Because his hair looked disheveled and windblown, even with the majestic braids holding it all in place. He was covered in grime and gore, and had sheen on his face of perspiration but he looked calm and not in the slightest tired like Tony felt, or anyone else for that matter. Tony heard a sharp intake of breath and turned to see Thor's eyes widen in reverence.

"Maedhros Fëanarion," Thor said with a gleam of hero worship in his eyes. Tony rolled his eyes and finally saw the man that had muscled his way past the officers only to be blocked by Fury. The glare that he sent the bald pirate was positively glacial in its cold fury. Tony smirked. This guy could give lessons to even the director. The smirk fell when the face finally registered in Tony's brain. It was like looking at an older more wizened version of Cap. He had at least twenty years on Steve in age, maybe even thirty, but, not only that, his hair was long and pulled back at the sides into a single braid at the back, leaving most of the hair free to fall to his shoulders. He had lines of age around his eyes and forehead and even faint smile lines around his mouth, but overall he still held onto the beauty of youth while giving off an aged look of wisdom. He looked slightly slimmer than Steve, but it was so small a difference that most wouldn't see it. He was clean shaven, and but Tony could see that telltale gray of a five o' clock shadow coming in, and just like his tall friend he had the signs that he had been part of the fight. "Arthadan," Tony heard Thor breathe, in awed reverence.

"You're King Arthadan," Tony said and found himself the focus of those same intense eyes that Fury had been. They were just like Steve's, but unlike Steve, they held the weight of near countless years of life. This man was old! The sheer weight of his gaze was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Tony could maybe give credence to the idea that Numenoreans could live to be hundreds of years old, if they had the same ancient eyes as this man.

"I am," he said, and just like that the spell was broken. The man may look like Steve, but his accent and the timber of his voice was different. Steve's voice had the slightly nasally quality typical of any New Yorker, especially one from Brooklyn. Even if it had been trained out of him by his time on the stage, it would crop up every now and then when he got frustrated or anxious, or tired; like right before he had passed out. Arthadan's voice was slightly deeper, throatier than nasal, and his accent was Numenorean all the way; almost proper English in its intonation, but with a slight lyrical lit. It sounded like he spent more time speaking a foreign language than English, and given what he knew about Arthadan's background, that was probably true.

"Your grace, I'm glad to see you made it," the healer said with a relieved tone.

"No thanks to them," Arthadan said, looking over to send another arctic glare at the officers and security guards that had tried to stop him. Wow, this guy's glare was even more intense than Steve's Cap glare. The look softened when he turned his gaze back to the healer. "How is he, Barandir?" concern was laced through Arthadan's voice and his brow quirked up almost just like Steve's. Honestly, their mannerisms were so alike it was almost scary. And judging by the looks on the rest of the teams faces he wasn't the only one thinking it.

"We lost one of the babes, your grace," Barandir, the healer, explained, "but we did manage to stabilize the second one. I am… hopeful, cautiously, that as long as we continue his treatment that the baby will survive the birth." He paused and continued, "it is still in distress but, not dangerously so."

"Excuse me," Fury asked, "what treatment. We didn't authorize any treatment." Arthadan shot Fury a scathing glare and answered before the healer could.

"No, you didn't," he said accusingly, "I did." Fury got an indignant look on his face, and sent the man, no, King, a glare of his own.

"Since when do you have the authority…?" Fury started.

"Since I am Captain Rogers's legal next of kin," Arthadan interrupted, "and since I am the head of our House, I have legal power of attorney over his medical treatment. He signed the documents before the coronation." Tony's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"Coronation," he asked, "what coronation?" Arthadan looked at Tony and sent him a dry look, with a scathingly raised eyebrow.

"Steve's coronation and official anointing as Crowned Prince of Hithlum," Arthadan said then added dryly, "honestly, I'm not surprised you didn't hear about it, considering you were buried in your little energy project at the time and couldn't be bothered to respond to the invitation; sent out almost two weeks in advance." Clint stifled a snicker.

"Oh, burn," he chuckled softly, and all but ignored the glare Tony sent his way, "he got you there." Arthadan smiled thinly in the way only practiced career politicians or royalty could ever get right; like you had been judged and found wanting. He turned and the smile vanished, as did all semblance of politeness when he turned his eyes back on Fury. Those eyes of his were no longer arctic cold, but instead were burning with white hot fire.

"And since we are on the subject of Steve's legal power of attorney," Arthadan said, "I don't want to ever find out about something like this from a second hand source." Arthadan all but snarled at Fury, his eyes blazing like acetylene torches, the blue almost glowing with his wrath. "I expect to be informed of any medical emergencies regarding my heir from now on in the future," Arthadan growled, prowling like a predator closer to Fury until he was mere inches from the man, "do I make myself clear, Director?" the Avengers, sans Steve, all looked at Fury and saw the exact moment that the closed man finally broke under Arthadan's fiery glare; the eye patched Director broke eye contact and tightened his already clenched jaw.

"Crystal," Fury said.

"Good," Arthadan growled behind clenched teeth, giving the man one last glare before he turned back to the Healer, his eyes softening as he did. "You mentioned further treatment, Barandir?" he asked his voice and tone composed again. The Healer looked over at his comrade and then the director before firmly setting his gaze on the King.

"I did, your grace," he said. "I believe my colleague can further explain. Doctor?" the doctor nervously cleared his through and smoothed his smock, nervous to be under the sudden scrutiny of the team and a king, before he spoke.

"Not long after we stabilized the fetus," he explained, "Captain Rogers started having uterine contractions. We did everything we could to halt the progression of the labor, but since the Captain suffered a miscarriage we believe that it is responding to that stimuli to expel the aborted fetus." He looked over at Barandir for confirmation and support, and after receiving it in the form of a nod, he continued, "Our concern is that this might cause further distress to the other fetus, and that it might die as a result." He glanced over at Barandir, who took up the thread and continued.

"In response to this we've begun an IV of the Numenorean formula that the Captain was prescribed, as a preventative measure," he said his eyes locking onto Arthadan for approval, which was received with a small but relieved smile. "It has as such sped up the growth of the child, and hopefully when the labor progresses to birth the babe will be developed enough to not require time in an incubator."

"Formula," Bruce asked. Barandir turned to him and with a kindly smile explained.

"It was a formula that was in Numenor of Old," he said. "Its purpose was to help premature babies develop faster after birth, or to be a preventative measure for expectant mothers who were carrying multiples. It is common knowledge that twins or other sets of multiples tend to be born premature and very small. As a result, this formula was created to stimulate their growth more quickly before birth to ensure a good size and weight, and to continue the regimen until they were at a stable growth and development. We didn't have the benefits of incubators back then, so we found other means to help our newborns or the unborn." Bruce's eyebrows rose in respect, but then furrowed.

"Then why didn't you…" he began but Barandir interrupted him with a good-natured smile.

"Why didn't we share this formula with the humans of earth," he finished. "We did. The results were… less than encouraging." He hedged, shooting a glance at Arthadan.

"What Barandir means to say," Arthadan continued, "is that the formula is incompatible with your people, and those that did receive it, it deformed them. I believe you have heard old legends about children being born with unnatural, almost demonic birth defects. Those unfortunate children were those that had received it before birth. After this had happened a few times, I forbade any Healer to give the formula to anyone not of Numenorean decent. It was not out of selfishness that we did this, as the Catholic Church had said, but out of our love for our fellow Man, and desire not to cause further harm between our peoples, nor widen the rift. Unfortunately it widened anyway." Arthadan gave them all a melancholy smile.

"The Serum," Bruce said, his eyes alight with understanding. Arthadan nodded gravely.

"Dr. Erskine had discovered the formula," Barandir explained, "and had hopes that with alterations to its compounds, it could be a universal panacea for birth defects and growth and developmental disorders. Unfortunately his research was discovered by the Nazis and by HYDRA. They wanted the Serum to make the perfect Super Soldier, but for all the improvements to the original formula that he had made, it would never work on anyone that was not of Numenorean decent. That is why it made Schmidt into the monster he was. It was also why we encouraged any further research on it to become outlawed. Steve was, in a word, a miracle. It was by pure luck that he was just the kind of man Abraham was looking for, and had the one characteristic that would make the Serum work to its true potential." Tony chewed on his lip and hunched his shoulders in shame. He had called Steve all but worthless, and here these men were that knew him better than someone who had barely even glanced at his file, and they were calling him a miracle. In that moment Tony felt like the slimiest piece of scum on the planet, lower than a snake.

"Keep at it, doctor," Fury said and Arthadan looked at the man with surprise and newfound respect. "Contrary to what you must believe, I do want Steve's child to live. Having a child to care for, our psychologist have said, would help him to overcome some of this grief and further his desire to integrate with society again." Arthadan shook his head in false dismay, but smiled fondly. Fury was coming from the standpoint of a director wanting a great asset to be at the best of his ability, and if having a child to come home to helped that, then he was willing to concede that. But it was still a place of concern, and for that, Tony had to give the man his props.

"I agree," Arthadan said, "do whatever you have to do." Bruce cleared his throat and gave a slight smile.

"Maybe we should watch after Steve," he suggested. "I mean," he shrugged, looking around, hesitantly; "he is being moved out of emergency care, isn't he?" the healer nodded.

"Yes," he said, "he's been moved to a private room. We have him on our own medicines so he will be out for a while. It should let him rest enough to recover his strength for the birth. We have him on fluids, and IV nutrients to give his body a boost. But it would be beneficial to have someone there that he knows when he wakes up." The avengers all share a look, before Tony spoke up.

"We'll watch in shifts," he said, "I'll watch him first, and then Bruce, then… well you get the idea." Tony clapped his hands together, "so… if that's all, I'll just… you know, go see him." Tony breezed past the group and walked down the hall only to turn right back around to look at the doctor. "I have no idea where he is," he said with a nervous chuckle. The Healer and Arthadan sent a fond smile his way, before they answered his unasked question.

"Down the hall," the healer said, "three doors down from the emergency room, on the left." Tony smiled tightly.

"Thanks," he said and took off. He followed the directions and found Maedhros and that gigantic hound in the room. He quickly found himself wondering when they slipped away from the group, before he shook his head and accepted it as a weird elvish thing. Instead he found himself examining the room.

It was rather spacious and painted in a calming white with blue undertones, and had none of the dark paints and metallic that he had come to associate with SHIELD. Steve was settled on a bed on the wall to the right of the door, and was thankfully covered in a sheet and dressed in a thin hospital gown. He looked even worse than before, with dark bruises under his eyes, and a drawn face, but at least he didn't look so deathly pale.

Maedhros acknowledged him with a soft smile and a nod, and Tony turned to take the chair on Steve's left, only to find it occupied by none other than Yasha. The brunette sniper, and former Army Ranger, looked just as pale and drawn as his… mother? Tony honestly didn't know what the kid was to Rogers, other than his kid, so he guessed he'd have to ask. Tony smiled thinly, and Yasha sent back one of his own, before turning to Rogers again. His hand was wrapped tightly around Steve's, and Tony would bet, if the bed was big enough, he'd be lying next to him too, if he could. Tony took in the rest of Steve's appearance and wasn't surprised by much of it. There were several wires attached to him, mostly on his belly, which was significantly bigger than it had been a few hours ago. He guessed that meant that the formula was working and that the little guy was growing. The IV lines on the pole were attached to the back of Steve's left and right hand, as well as one that snaked under the covers. That one must be attached to his belly somehow. The liquid in that bag was a faint transparent blue, with a slight shimmery quality.

Tony turned to grab another chair and stopped short when he saw their resident scary masked assassin sitting the third chair by the table typing away at a very nice laptop, not one of his designs, probably writing up his report. How do you write up a report for an alien invasion? Where do you even file that?

"File form 297d," Stevan said, causing Tony to jolt and look at him again. The masked man smirked widely and continued to type. How did he know that? "You think very loudly. You should probably do something about that. Any good telepath could read you like an open book," he snorted and his smirk turned into a wicked grin, "actually even a pretty bad telepath could read you. You have no mental shields, or filter." Tony wrinkled his nose in irritation and sat down opposite of the man.

"You really shouldn't read people's minds without asking," He said, "it's rude." Stevan paused his typing and looked up at Tony. He raised one dry eyebrow, and gave him the most deadpan look, that Tony couldn't help the nervous giggle that left his mouth. "Yeah, I probably deserve that."

"Have you called Pepper yet," Stevan said, after he turned back to his typing. Tony stopped dead, and went as still as stone. He looked at the man across from him and saw not even a hint of emotion on the mans masked face, but then again, it was very hard to read a man wearing a mask made with ultra-mat black, or his own supposed equivalent. How did he even know? "It was the only thing in your head when you were holding onto that missile. You should tell her how you feel, Tony. Take it from someone who knows." Stevan looked up and Tony didn't need the mask off to see the heartbreaking sorrow in his eyes. "You should never take any moment for granted. You have the chance to tell her, you have your second chance. Most won't ever get that. I didn't. So don't waste it." Stevan looked back down and, just like that, his face was cold and blank again. But in just the right light he could see the glimmer of an unshed tear in his eyes, and for just a moment Tony wondered what had happened to this guy to make him say that to him. What did he lose to make him say that? Or maybe rather, who did he lose?

That was a question that might never be answered, or if it was, Tony was sure he might not want to know.

The first thing Steve is aware of when he wakes is a low dull ache in his back and lower abdomen. It felt someone had taken a band around his waist and pulled it slightly too tight. If this was how it felt for women to wear some corsets, he could understand the discomfort. He groaned low in his throat and shifted a little, trying to get more comfortable, and felt a sharp tug on his belly. He hissed and brought his hand to the spot. Steve's eyes blurrily blinked open when he registered that it was significantly more mounded than before.

"Easy, my good Captain," a voice said to his right, and Steve rolled his head over to see Thor sitting in one of those cheap plastic chairs that they used in hospital rooms. The Thunderer dwarfed the chair and looked almost comical in his Asgardian armor and red cloak, but then again Arthadan still wore traditional Numenorean garb; so who was he to judge. Suddenly it clicked that Thor was sitting next to him in a hospital, and Steve was on a bed. He registered the faint beeping of a heart monitor as well as some other sounds that he had come to associate with hospitals.

"Thor," Steve rasped his throat dry. He coughed and cleared his throat, and looked up to find Thor holding a glass with a straw in it to his mouth. A soft and grateful smile pulled across his lips, as he let Thor guide the straw to his lips to take a drink. Steve took a few swallows and cleared the tacky dryness from his throat. "Thanks," he said with a smile as Thor pulled the glass away. "what are you still doin' here? What happened," he asked. Thor's eyes became soft and mournful like a kicked puppy.

"Do you not remember, Captain," Thor said. Steve shook his head and looked down. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of his gravid belly. He hesitantly brought his hand to the mound and tenderly rubbed the apex of the curve. Suddenly it all came rushing back, and his eyes widened and his jaw dropped with horror. He looked up at Thor with pleading eyes.

"The baby," Steve said. "I... I … I was having contractions." Thor nodded, and his eyes became even more sorrowful, full of sympathy. Steve's face crumpled and his eyes filled with tears. "I lost them, didn't I," he croaked through his tears. Thor gently took Steve's hand and squeezed it, trying to give some semblance of comfort.

"The healer said that one of the babes died," Thor confirmed, and Steve took a sobbing gasp, his eyes heartbroken. Thor clasped his hand firmly in both his hands, and gave Steve a hopeful smile, "but one is still alive." Steve gasped, and started sobbing in relief, tears running down his face as he smiled. "He has every hope that it will make it, as long as you stay strong, Captain."

"Steve," he interrupted.

"What," Thor asked in confusion.

"if you… if the doc's already told you all that," he explained, "then you might as well call me by my name." Steve turned his head and smiled at Thor, "besides, we're not on duty, so call me Steve. All my friends do, or… did." Steve's smile became a little bit brittle as he remembered that all his friends were dead, and all he had left were their kids that he had never met. Thor smiled back, almost beaming with joy at such camaraderie.

"I would be glad to, Steve," Thor said. He looked down at Steve's gravid belly with concern. "Is it well; the babe?" he asked softly. Steve looked back down at the mound on his abdomen with a tender smile.

"Yeah," Steve answered softly, "he's not really moving, but he's okay. I can feel it." suddenly Steve felt his belly seize and clench. He hunched over, and let out a sharp his through his teeth, clutching his belly with both hands. "Ow," he said after a moment, once the cramp passed.

"Are you well, Captain," Thor asked in concern, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah," he answered and looked up at Thor with a raised brow, "and what'd I just say about callin' me that?" Steve smirked at Thor's sudden blush, but that didn't lessen the worry he felt in his own breast. That had either been the mother of all cramps, or a contraction. "Thor," Steve said his voice a little shaky.

"Yes, Steve," he answered with and open and eager face.

"I think, I uh…," Steve stuttered swallowing down the lump of sudden fear in his voice, "I think I just had a contraction… a pretty strong one." Thor's face became quickly sober and serious, free of any of his cheerful demeanor.

"Aye," Thor said, "the healer said you'd be having them." Steve's eyes widened and his lips paled a little. Thor placed comforting hand on Steve's shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze. It was so much like what Bucky would do, it gave Steve's heart a pang of still fresh grief.

"He did," Steve asked.

"Aye, Steve," Thor answered, "you've been in labor for some time." At the sight of Steve's wide eyes and openly shocked face, Thor let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, Captain, it's nearly time. Your healers are quite skilled," Thor said with and impressed smile, taking his hand away from Steve's shoulder to twist his fingers through Steve's tightly clenched ones. Steve Smiled gratefully and Thor Continued, "they have some sort of medicine that could make you not feel the labor pains, so that you might rest and recover your strength. And you will need all you can get," Thor said seriously. "If it is wearing off now, then it must be nearing your time. But have no fear, Steve," Thor clasped his hand around the one clasped with Steve's, "you and I shall face this pain together. I will not forsake you in your greatest hour of need. I will be with you." Steve felt his eyes water and smiled.

Suddenly, he felt his belly squeeze, as if a band had been wrapped around it and wrenched tight. The vice-like pull of his muscles clenching even tighter, made his cry out and double over in pain. He squeezed Thor's hand tight and grabbed under the swell of his belly, pressing at the tightening pain. Now he understood why Bucky had screamed so much when he was in labor. It hurt! It felt like a red hot poker was being drawn slowly through his belly and towards his spine. The pain doubled and tripled in strength as his belly tightened further. Just when he thought that he couldn't take any more, he felt a shift in his belly, from deep inside, in his womb, like a rubber band snapping, and he felt a gush of something wet rush out from between his thighs.

"Thor," Steve gasped, and clenched his teeth as the contraction slowly, agonizingly released its grip. "Oh, God! My water just broke!" he looked over to see Thor's wide eyes and ashen face. Thor stood, not letting go of Steve's hand.

"Healer," he bellowed his voice like the sudden crack of thunder, "come quick! His waters have let!" Steve slumped back against the bed but suddenly felt a very uncomfortable pressure deep in his pelvis. Steve hissed as he shifted his legs to relieve the pressure, and slid further down the bed to lie back, only to bolt right back upright when the pressure increased and his belly tightened again. But this time it came with an almost overwhelming urge to bear down. Steve followed his instincts and bore down with a scream. In his efforts he missed the Healer arriving, but didn't when he felt the bed drop away from his feet. He looked up with wide and shocked eyes to see the Healer put up some metal stirrups and gently maneuver his legs into them.

"That's it, Captain," he encouraged, "very good." Steve looked around wide eyed as a doctor wheeled in a plastic incubator and other equipment.

"What's happening," Steve gasped once the contraction let go of his belly. The pressure was still there but it felt different now, and with wide frightened eyes, he suddenly understood why: the head! He was feeling the baby's head. He gasped and slumped back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling with wide eyes. Now that he knew what it was, he was intimately aware of the shape of his baby, more so than he had been for months; and it was right there! "Thor," Steve gasped, "the baby's coming! I can feel it, he's coming!" Steve hunched over his belly again, and this time with his legs up and splayed wide he felt a shift and the pressure tripled. Steve flopped back with deep gasping breaths. His wild eyes sought Thor's and locked on. Thor clasped his hand tightly in both of his, with an encouraging nod.

"Alright, Captain," the healer said once he was positioned between his legs, "on the next contraction I need you to push, hard." Steve's wild eyes locked onto the healers, as he panted his way through the pain. Again his belly began to tighten, and Steve let out a broken wail, gasping around his pain. "Now, Captain, Push," he ordered, "Bear down, hard!" Steve followed his order with zeal, and found himself letting out a loud agonized scream. As the pressure and pain doubled, and then tripled, Steve felt a slow agonizing shift, as the baby slowly slid down and out. And he screamed. He screamed as he hadn't since that day in the Rebirth chamber. He hadn't ever thought that any pain could compare to that, but as his grit his teeth and groaned through his pushes, he found out that he was dead wrong. His last thought as his mind was pushed under by instinct and pain, was that he hoped that he made it through this to hold his baby.

After a few hours loitering outside Steve's room, switching to watch their Captain, they were finally kicked out of the infirmary wing and back onto the bridge. Steven had slipped away to change back into his alter ego, and when he was questioned as to where the Knight had disappeared to, he simply said:

"I'm not his keeper anymore," and smiled sadly, "I'm no one's keeper. He probably went home. As much as he likes Steve, I don't think he wants to be reminded of something he can't have."

"And what's that," Tony asked. Steven looked at the billionaire turned hero and for a moment Tony saw such a broken look of longing and despair for a moment in those blue eyes, before it vanished under a cool mask of indifference; so fast he thought he had imagined it.

"A family," Steven said and dropped the conversation completely; refusing to answer the prodding from the others. Natasha seemed to understand and smacked Clint on the back of the head to shut him up.

"Ow," Clint exclaimed, as he rubbed the suddenly sore spot on his head. He looked over at Natasha with an indignant scowl. "What was that for?"

'Drop it,' Natasha mouthed and sent him her coldest glare. Clint understood and had the good grace to look ashamed before dropping the conversation completely. Arthadan happily greeted Steven once he stepped onto the bridge after his own session watching Steve. The blond King grinned widely and enveloped Steven in a warm and tight embrace. Steven sunk into the hug eagerly, soaking up the affection he was so starved for without his Ada, or his father to give it to him. Sometimes, no matter how many hugs a brother could give you, Steven just needed his Ada or his father to hold him and make him feel safe again. Hugging Steve, and even Arthadan, seemed to fill this hole for a bit, but nothing could compare to Ada's hugs. It felt like home.

"It's so good to see you again, Steven," Arthadan said into Steven ear, before pulling away, "it's been too long!" Arthadan's grin was just as wide and sincere as Steve's and it soothed that agitated part of himself that he didn't even realize was agitated. He supposed that being under the disapproving looks that Steve had sent his way had made him want some genuine love and affection sent his way by the man, and Arthadan looked just like Steve enough to trick that part of himself into relaxing again.

"How do you know each other," Natasha asked. Steven looked back at Arthadan out of the side of his eye with a conspiratorial smirk. Arthadan simply grinned, and it was the same wide mouth grin that Steve had, eyes squinted and sparkling.

"Steven was there when I woke from my death-sleep," Arthadan said, his eyes sparkling with mirth and gratitude. "He was… my anchor in the storm. He took me home, to a house that had simply been plans on paper, and models when I left the world. It was a joy greater than any I could ever describe, cresting that hill, and seeing the house I wanted to build for my sons." Arthadan's smile was warm and loving and for a moment Steven saw his Ada in the Numenorean's place, and there was no doubt that he came from this family. It was in his smile, in the way he looked at him. That tender softness that came from a loving father towards a son, and Steven wanted more than anything for his Ada to be there in that moment. Steven felt tears pool in his eyes and hastily blinked them away and cleared his throat before looking at the others.

Natasha's smile was knowing and Clint's had a secret tenderness that he hadn't expected, but Steven let the man have his secrets. They didn't get to have many of them in this business that any that they still carried were even more precious. Bruce seemed to be almost calm, and Tony only slightly anxious, with a hint of guilt. Yasha on the other hand was the picture of a caged tiger, pacing and prowling about the table as they waited for news. If he was to be honest, they were all a bit tense, but most of them hid it rather well, it's just that Yasha was more invested than the others. Thor had yet to return from his shift, and that could either be good or bad news depending on how it was looked at. Maedhros on the other hand, was the picture of absolute serenity. The ancient High Elf was practically exuding calmness in waves as he sat beside his giant hound, petting Huan's golden fur.

Suddenly Steven's head shot up and a faraway look came into his eyes. Maedhros looked up at the young half-elven with sharp eyes, taking in every detail of the look, before Steven suddenly smiled. It was a slow thing, soft and joyful, before turning positively predatory, in its viciousness.

"What is it," Nelyo asked. Steven turned and looked at him, his smile becoming softer again.

"Steve's okay," he said, "the baby's coming." Steven smiled joyfully again, his eyes filled with nostalgic tears. Then his smile turned into a cunning smirk.

("Your Atar is on his way,") Steve said, via Osanwe. ("He's going to 'request' for permission to land.") Maedhros could practically feel the quotation marks and raised a brow haughtily.

("You mean order, don't you?") Nelyo asked with a sly smile. Steven's laughter rang through his mind like the tinkling of bells, while he smiled outwardly with a raised eyebrow and a shrug.

("Sometimes being a Five Star has its advantages,") Steven all but crooned in Maedhros' mind. Nelyo can't help himself and burst out laughing, just as Jonathan received the transmission over the radio.

"Sir," Jonathan said, "General Fëanor Noldorean is requesting permission to land his chopper on deck." All eyes turn onto Maedhros as his laughter turned from soft chuckling to full bellied guffaws, all but cackling at Fury's face when he realized a Five Star General all but ordered him to board his boat. A general that had faced both World Wars and was a highly decorated combat war veteran, not to mention a former acquaintance of their dearly beloved Captain. Fury's next words just about summed up his feelings about this, and sent Maedhros into another bout of roaring laughter.

"Son of a..."

Fëanor's arrival onto the bridge was akin to a dragon blowing in from the northern wastes: first there was the hot breath of his voice bellowing for all in his path to stand aside, and then his presence would become known. He marched his way onto the bridge in full dress uniform, ribbons and medals on full display, his cap square on his head, low over his brow casting his eye sockets into shadow. And those eyes, those luminous eyes that had seen the light of the trees at their height, were aflame with the fire of his spirit. He looked grim and wrathful, his eyes flashing wide, and for one brief moment, Maedhros was back in Tirion on that fateful day when his Ada drew sword upon his brother and threatened his life. The moment he entered the room, all eyes turned to him. It was hard not to. Fëanor was a force to be reckoned with on a normal day, but on a day like this, he was a force of nature that no man could ever hope to match.

Maedhros knew the moment he set eyes on director Fury, for Fëanor's eyes flashed with unbridled fury, burning like molten silver, and his face hardened into cold steel. Fëanor's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared and his face reddened as such a look of hate and wrath appeared on his face, you would have thought that he was facing down Morgoth himself, and not Director Nick Fury. The old battle-hardened Prince of the Noldor stalked towards the director like a dragon about to devour a thief. Maedhros felt himself pale and bolted to his feet. He rushed to grab his Ada's form, to stop him, but not before Fëanor drew back his arm and landed a shuddering blow to Fury's face that not only startled the man but sent him staggering back several steps.

"Son of a bitch," Fury said holding his bleeding nose. Several security guards quickly rushed to apprehend him but Maedhros waved them off before restraining Fëanor's arms behind his back.

"You're lucky I didn't break every bone in your body," Fëanor roared. Maedhros had trouble restraining him as Fëanor lunged with almost every word.

"General Noldorean I presume," Fury said after he managed to wipe his bloody nose. Fëanor lunged again with a savage snarl and this time managed to wiggle an arm loose to make a grab at him.

"ATAR," Maedhros shouted, pulling him tighter to his chest. "Calm down!" Fëanor heaved great billowing breaths through his nose as he attempted to reign in his infamous temper. It seemed that he was not very successful because he only seemed to be more infuriated than before.

"You knew he was with child," Fëanor roared, "an you sent him into battle anyway! You may as well have murdered it!" Fury wiped at his bloody nose and sent a glare Fëanor's way.

"I sent the greatest soldier the world has ever seen to deal with our greatest threat," Fury said calmly. "And I fail to see how it is your business what I do with the Captain?" Fëanor lunged again, his eyes wild and fey, a snarl pulled from his lips as he clawed at Fury's form. Fury took a startled step back, as Maedhros hauled his Atar back. After a moment of holding him back it became apparent why he was still taking great heaving breaths: he was crying. Great heaving sobs wracked his frame as tears of fear and fury ran down his face. The great elven lord felt absolutely helpless when he heard about the battle, and when he saw who was right in the thick of it, leading the Avengers, it had felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed his lungs and heart in his chest. And when he heard that Steve had gone into premature labor, that fear had turned to fury, but still broiling underneath was that fear. Now it became mingled with another powerful emotion that he felt utterly helpless to: grief. Fëanor had never dealt well with grief, lashing out with anger at those he had deemed responsible, and blaming himself as well. So this, had hit too hard and close to home for him to handle.

"Because that soldier," Fëanor seethed, his eyes wide and wild, flashing with fire and grief, his lips twisted in a snarl of rage, "that Captain… was carrying my grandson…" tears finally spilled down his cheeks as grief overcame his rage. "It was all I had left of my son," he wept. Maedhros pulled Fëanor close and hugged him from behind, resting his head on Atar's raven crown. His own grief spilled over, and he brushed his Fëa against his Atar's soothingly, sending over comfort and hope across their parental bond. Fëanor closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, clasping his hand fast to Maedhros' arms, wrapped around his chest.

"Atar," Maedhros said softly, and pressed his mind against Fëanor's, ("one of the babes survived.") Fëanor turned in his arms his face open with shock, and his eyes shining with fragile hope.

"It's alive," he breathed, his voice soft and tinged with hope. Maedhros nodded and sent his elder a hopeful and warm smile. Fëanor's eyes shut and he all but collapsed against Maedhros' arms in relief. Before the red haired Elda could answer the bridge doors opened and the doctor in charge of Steve's care walked onto the bridge. All eyes turned to the man and either stood or sat ridged in anticipation. The doctor froze for a moment, suddenly unsure under the scrutiny of all those eyes before he sent the assembled group a proud and happy smile.

"Captain Rogers," he said hesitantly then smiled, "Steve… has just delivered." Arthadan stepped forward; his eyes alight with joy and hope.

"He's given birth," he asked and the doctor nodded with a broad grin.

"It's a healthy baby boy," he announced, and the team broke out in cheers.

"Knew it," Tony crowed. Similar exclamations of joy could be heard on deck before Yasha broke the noise with a question.

"Is my Ada alright," he asked, hopefully, "Can I see him?"

"I don't see why not," the doctor said with a grin, "but… gently, it was still rough on him." with permission given the assembled Avengers and family rushed past the doctor to get to the infirmary, leaving the doctor with a startled look on his face, and wide eyes.

"Thor," Steve gasped when he heard the first wet coughs, then wails of his son. He looked over at the thunderer with a watery grin. His hair was plastered flat on his head from sweat and his cheeks were flushed, but his eyes were wide and shining bright. Thor's answering smile was just as wide and joyous as Steve's own grin. "Thor is he… is he alright," Steve asked looking over at the table where the Healer had whisked away his child once he began to cry. Thor leaned over and saw the Healer taking some measurements and wiping him down but from what he could see, the child was pink and plump and screaming his head off. The Healer, Barandir turned around with the still wailing child in his arms and a proud and relieved smile pulling at his lips.

"See for yourself, Captain," Thor said as Barandir approached. Steve looked over and sat himself up a bit. He grinned and reached out his arms for the bundle, and he was not disappointed when Barandir gently laid the baby on Steve's chest. Steve's hands instinctively went to support the baby's head as he let the little boy rest against his chest, his little head laying on his shoulder, his face tucked into his neck. Tears spilled out of his eyes as he grinned at the little form now in his arms. He barely felt the contractions in his belly, and absently pushed out the afterbirth, nor did he notice the healer whisking it away. All his focus and attention was on the little life now resting in his arms. He was wrinkly and pink but he felt heavy on his chest.

"How much does he weigh," Steve asked as he looked up. The healer smiled.

"9lbs on the nose, your grace," Barandir answered. Steve's eyes went wide.

"9lbs," Steve said incredulously, and looked down at the little thing in his arms with shock. The baby was nosing his chest, and letting out little whimpers. Steve smiled and shifted his hold to rest him against his breast. "No wonder it hurt so much! You're a big baby, aren't ya?" Steve relaxed when his nethers were cleaned and his legs were allowed to finally rest on a bed and be covered. Steve chuckled and gasped when the baby latched on and began to nurse.

"Tis a good weight, Steve," Thor said, as he clapped Steve's shoulder and smiled down at the nursing babe.

"Aye," Steve answered with a proud, but tired grin, "it is." The sound of trampling feet made him look up from the baby in his arms just in time to see the team enter the doorway. Steve's grin grew wider at the awestruck looks on their faces. "Hey guys," he said, his voice slightly hoarse and rough, but his grin never faltering, "Come and say hi." Tony entered first, tentatively, but quickly followed by Clint surprisingly and then the others. The face that shocked the smile off his face for a moment was one he had not seen for a while: Fëanor. The old elf prince was looking at the baby in Steve's arms with all the awe and love of a grandparent. There were tears of joy in his eyes as he looked up and caught Steve's gaze. Steve grinned and crooked a hand at him, waving him forward. "Fëanor," he said with a proud grin, "come meet your grandson." Nelyo's presence behind his father brought a pleasant jolt of surprise to Steve but he was even happier to have a friend and family near.

Fëanor approached with trepidation, but once he got a good look at the form, he melted.

"He's beautiful," Fëanor said his face tender and warm. The team slowly congregated around Steve and the bed to get a closer look at the little form in his arms. Steve smiled knowingly and shifted his son better in his arms for them to get a better look. A collective "aw" erupted from the group, as well as several exclamations of how beautiful he was.

"What's his name," Tony asked. Steve grinned and looked down at the little baby who was looking up at him with blurry blue eyes.

"His name is Andrew Mormegil," Steve proclaimed, and Fëanor looked up to see the fey look enter Steve's eyes, as foresight drew his gaze far away, "and he shall be a bringer of justice and truth, my light of courage." Fëanor was taken aback by the proclamation, and realized that Steve was more Elvish than he had initially thought. There was nothing ill in the prophetic statement, but it still sent a shiver down his spine. Then just like that, Steve blinked and the fey light was gone. Steve looked up again and saw Yasha hovering on the edge of the group and grinned. "Come here," Steve said.

Yasha came closer and the group parted to allow him to sit right beside Steve's bed. A soft breath of awe, and a slow loving smile, and Steven could see his brother had fallen for the little babe. Jonathan nudged his brother's arm, and Steven looked over at his brother with a bemused smile. He only looked up to see Arthadan stand at the foot of Steve's bed with a proud smile and a kingly cut to his stance and form.

"Long live Andrew Mormegil," Arthadan said in a clear ringing voice, "first of his name, heir of the House of Rogers and Arthadan, the Prince of Hithlum." Steve's eyes were filled with grateful tears and grinned joyously as he looked down at his new son, proudly named the heir of his line, and his house.

TBC…

End note: sorry this took so long. I had just started a new job, and couldn't get up to my computer for a few weeks. Thankfully I had a break, so inspiration struck. Also I just wanted to get that out of the way, and on to the rest.

If any of you noticed the slightly Game of Thrones style speech for Arthadan's proclamation, it's because I've been reading a lot of GOT fanfics and it has colored his speech patterns. I think of Arthadan as very old fashioned, he was after all born in Numenor, and he alone, save for Híraklion still remember it. Not only that he was raised among the elves, namely Celebrimbor, so that would color his speech, and he was raised to be a prince, and spent much of his life as a King of exiles. So if he sounds a little austere and regal that's why.

Next up: Aftermath