I Loved You First | Not Easily Conquered ▸ [STUCKY]

Ch. 15

2001

Steve is on a four-week training detail to keep fresh on SHIELD protocol in prematurely-cold Montana, of all places, when he hears about it. The base he's on is probably the most remote one SHIELD's got in the United States, barring maybe locations in Alaska, which is still a newly minted part of the country to him. Because of this, they only get cell service on the fancy SHIELD satellite phone, which means the duration of each call is pretty limited.

He is waiting for Peggy to call, Barton sitting off in the corner with a badly affected air of nonchalance. One of his hearing aids, the left, Steve thinks, got trampled on the course this morning, and so, as Barton cheerfully announced earlier, his hearing is "completely for shit." Steve doesn't think that's all that's going on, though; Barton seems antsy about his turn with the phone, and it's probably because he recently brought in a new recruit and he's nervous about how she's settling in. Rumor has it she's the infamous Black Widow, but Barton calls her Romanoff most of the time, and some variant of Natasha when he thinks the others can't hear.

Steve is also pretty sure that Barton is certifiably insane. Still, he's a better shot than even Bucky was, as much as Steve would never say it. Steve also kind of feels he should apologize to the picture of Buck he's got stuffed in his wallet for speaking ill not of the dead, but rather of Buck's much-lauded ability during leave to shoot a bottle to bits from increasingly improbable distances in increasingly improbable contortions, usually to the drunken laughter of everyone.

Finally the phone lights up, but it's with Kat's name. Still, that's not too unusual - Kat's a busy woman with a career, a husband, and kids, but she makes time to go see her parents on occasion, and maybe she thought Peggy would be lonely with Steve gone for four weeks.  Steve answers, and barely gets out a hello when it's -

It's a bit like December 7th, 1941 all over again, the way the moment rushes up to meet him, like biting the pavement from a punch to the nose and knowing you're going down, and yet somehow still not expecting it; the way his limbs turn heavy and cold with abrupt terror.

"Dad," Kat gasps into the phone, "Dad, it's - really bad, it's really bad. The Towers are just collapsing, they had - planes? I don't know how they - they had planes, and they got the Pentagon - they're at the Pentagon, tell me, oh God, Dad, tell me you're not in the city -"

"Kat, Kat," Steve says, firmly, and then gently: "I'm just fine. I'm alright. I'm in Montana, remember? Real far away. I need you to take a breath, okay? I love you. Breathe for me." Kat does, he can hear her gasping slow through the tiny speaker, and he shuts his eyes tight and gives himself a second to panic. Over the line Kathryn's calmed and so Steve makes himself calm too. She tells him, "Sorry. Okay. Christ, I can't - I'm passing the phone to Mom."

Steve presses the back of his hand to his mouth, moves it away, and waits for Peggy to come on. He can hear the tension in her voice when she tells him what's happened, what's happened to his country, his city, his home. He knows she wants to be out there helping, because he does too, but he's stuck in Montana and already knows there's no way anyone is going to be flying, not after this. He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he listens. Barton has stopped pretending not to watch and is standing ready, because he's good enough to know when something has happened and good enough to know when he needs to be prepared.

Peggy's voice is trailing off when she tells him, "Steve, you come home as soon as you can.  You come home to us, and then you go do what you can to help."

And Steve knows how that is, remembers how well Peggy knows him, because she was there a million years ago when he set his jaw and wouldn't take no for an answer, and she knows she can't stop him when he gets this way.

"Okay," agrees Steve. "I love you, Pegs, and tell Kat I love her too. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

Steve hangs up and beckons Barton closer so he can hear.

"Somebody flew planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. We're in for a hell of a ride, Barton."

A lot of things happen very quickly on Barton's face. He swallows hard and says "fuck", looking jarred and terrified. And then suddenly, to Steve's shock, he straightens himself up and sets his shoulders, more serious than Steve's ever seen him.

"Call me Clint, sir," he says. Steve recognizes that look in his eye; it's the look all snipers get when they've finally sighted their target, and it's now just a matter of time until that target is in range. That moment of perfect stillness.

This is what Steve is good at - not the spying, not the covert ops, not really even being a soldier. This is what Steve is good at: pulling people together, and holding them up when they need it most.

"Tell everybody to pack up, and get the cars ready. We're going to DC."

Steve takes a deep breath, and calls Fury's line. He'll be busy, but not too busy to deal with Steve Rogers informing him that he's leaving Montana with 20-some agents and heading for clean-up duty.

-

Tony is the next person who calls him, getting through once they reach the nearest town.  Tony likes explosions as much as Howard ever did, or possibly - terrifyingly - more, but he also likes people about ten times the amount that his father did, which is probably why he can be so difficult to deal with. That's not to say that Tony will ever admit to liking people. From experience, Steve has decided that he infinitely prefers this to Howard's method, which was to hate people privately and put on a very convincing show of loving them publicly.

Tony doesn't sound drunk, which is odd, and the conversation is short, which is also odd.  Normally Tony takes about fifteen minutes to get to his point, if not more, and that's assuming there's any point to begin with.

"Tony?" Steve asks, after Tony's said hi, and then nothing else. "Hey, son. You okay?"

"Sure, sure. Yeah; I'm fine. Wasn't in DC or New York or anything, I'm fine." That's not what Steve meant and Tony knows it, so he doesn't give Steve a chance to interrupt. "Hey, you remember how I was thinking about shutting down some of the weapons lines 'cause, hey, nobody's using 'em?" There's a huff of laughter that doesn't sound a whole lot like laughter. "Yeah, I'm probably not gonna do that anymore, huh?"

Steve has to take a minute to think of what to say. "Tony," he finally comes up with, a little careful, and trying not to sound careful, "You can do whatever you want with Stark Industries. It's your company." This is mostly the truth. It's Tony's name on the products, at least.

Tony's response is stilted. "Yeah, yeah of course. But - well, I mean."

Steve, terribly, does. "I know, Tony."

Tony hangs up abruptly, and Steve can't say he really blames him.

They'll be in DC in another twenty hours or so. Steve spends a lot of the drive there thinking of how he's going to go to New York and do everything he can, which is more than most people, but still not nearly enough. 

-

New York, September 14. -Amid rescue and clean-up workers yesterday was Steve Rogers, known also as "Captain America", the World War II hero whose serum-enhanced body allowed him to perform superhuman feats of strength, and also to keep his youthful looks. Rogers' past has been fraught with scandal, leading to, many claim, his reclusiveness over the last few decades. This is the first time since his arrest in 1972 that he has been seen in public, though he was not wearing the iconic Captain America uniform, instead working side-by-side with rescue workers and lifting rubble too heavy for one man and too delicate for machinery.  Regardless of his past, we here in New York City are glad to have our fellow New Yorker to help us out. 

(Roberts, Josephine. "Captain America back in New York." The New York Times 14 Sep. 2001. Print.)

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