[Classified Address]//Steve Rogers' Apartment
September 2011
Steve let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into his building.
It was a tiny flat, and he only spent about half his time here, but it felt more like home than his rooms in the Tower. The penthouse itself, with all the Avengers in it, was home as well, but the actual rooms? They were sterile, cold, too nice for Steve's preference.
And there was Sharon, stepping out of her room with a laundry basket.
"Hey, Steve," she said with a smile. "Been a few days."
He smiled back, unsure of himself but mindful of the fact that he genuinely liked Sharon. She was kind, and honest. "Busy days," he replied. "Looks like you've been busy too?" He nodded at the heapingly full laundry basket.
Sharon balanced it on one hip and tugged her door shut. "Work's crazy," she said with a laugh. "And my boss is crazier. Fell behind on my housekeeping, and now I've got to lug this all the way down to the basement."
He had an idea. Steve's heart picked up a bit and he resisted the urge to fidget with his keys, an unfortunate nervous habit he seemed to have picked up from Bruce. "You could use my machine," he offered. "No stairs involved. And it's cheaper."
"Yeah?" Sharon smiled, but there was a hesitation in her eyes. "What's it cost?"
"Cup of coffee sometime?" Steve asked.
Her smile was soft and apologetic. "Sorry, but… I shouldn't. I wouldn't want to impose."
So it was rejection. Steve fought past the sinking feeling in his stomach and nodded once at her. "I understand."
And he did, that was the thing. He was… he was damaged goods. He was a supersoldier, a hero, an idol for the people to hang on posters and thank for saving their lives. Not a man with a mind, or a heart. No one you could go out for a coffee with. No one you could love.
Steve was so, so tired of being a hero.
"Oh, and I think you left your radio on," Sharon said, nodding at Steve's door.
Steve glanced over and noticed, for the first time, that she was right: classical music piped gently through the wood.
He should have noticed sooner.
"Thanks," he said, and watched her heave her laundry basket down the stairs.
Only when Sharon was out of sight did Steve drop the friendly-neighbor facade and face his door.
That music was on the wrong station.
He reached out and touched the door.
It swung open silently. Left unlocked and ajar. Two things Steve would never do.
On quiet feet, he stepped inside.
The kitchen was clear. So was his bedroom, the first door on the right.
Steve picked up his shield from where it hung in the hall and slung it onto his left arm.
Through his speakers, a saxophone wailed.
Shield ready, he stepped around a corner and into his living room, every muscle tense and every sense screaming that something was not right.
Maria was sprawled out on a chair in the corner.
Steve relaxed, a bit, and set the shield down. "Maria," he greeted.
She opened her eyes. "Sorry to walk in on you like this," she said quietly.
"Care to explain?" Steve's eyes flicked over the walls and what he could see through his windows. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing dangerous. But he was still on edge.
"My boyfriend threw me out," Maria said.
"Didn't know you had one."
Her lips twisted in an expression that was not quite a smile. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Rogers."
Steve noticed that there was a notepad tucked in her lap.
Maria saw him notice, raised a finger to her lips, and handed him the pad.
Apartment is bugged. SHIELD compromised. Tried to take me out.
Steve looked sharply up at her. "And why'd you come here?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."
Steve waited while she added something else to the pad.
SHIELD watchers on the Tower.
He nodded and took the pad.
Are you wounded?
Not badly. Possible fractured rib, minor concussion, dislocated shoulder. Generally battered and sore.
Steve looked her over carefully, but her assessment seemed accurate. There was a gash on her forehead and a streak of dried blood running down her eyebrow and the bridge of her nose. It made her look dangerous and a little bit wild.
I'll get you to the tower. Tony can protect you, hide you.
Maria hesitated when she saw the note.
Ok. Don't trust anyone.
Other than the Avengers.
I never do, Steve wrote, and reached for his shield.
Gunfire shattered the silence. Maria jerked and dove for the floor. More bullets tore apart the chair while she army-crawled to Steve. He hauled her around the corner and into the hallway.
"Take–" Maria gasped, thrusting something at him.
Steve shoved the bloody flash drive into his pocket without thinking.
His door slammed open. Steve leaped upright into a defensive position, shield up.
It was Sharon. Sharon, with a gun in her hand and an uncompromising expression on her face.
Sharon was SHIELD.
Steve tore the paper off the notepad and stuffed it into Maria's bloody hand. She nodded at him to let him know she would keep it safe.
"Get her to the hospital," Steve ordered, and bolted.
He crashed through his window and fell into a roll on the roof of the next building over. There was the shooter, running away over the rooftops.
Steve went after.
The shooter was shorter than Steve, and leaner. He was stronger. They were matched in speed.
The shooter dove off the next rooftop and rolled into a sprint across a gravel buffer. Steve picked up the pace. If the shooter jumped–there wasn't a roof to catch him, he'd lose the chance to find out who wanted Maria dead–
The shooter skidded to a stop.
Steve hurled his shield.
The shooter dodged, barely, and the shield skidded in the gravel until it came to a stop.
"Surrender," Steve demanded.
The shooter turned to face him for the first time. Steve's eyes widened fractionally. It was a woman. She would've been pretty if not for the hateful sneer twisting her face.
"I'll never talk," she snarled, and slammed her teeth together.
A horrible sense of deja vu washed over Steve and left him feeling sick. He lunged forward and pried her mouth open as she collapsed, shaking.
White foam erupted from the woman's lips.
Steve felt the exact moment she died. Even then, the hate never left her face.
He closed his eyes for a long moment and couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been here, done this, before.
It wasn't possible. Hydra was gone.
Avengers Tower
September 2011
"We're gonna fake her death," Bruce said.
Steve blinked. "Ah… why?"
"Somebody's trying to kill her," Darcy said, twirling her pen around her fingers. Bruce saw Loki tracking the movement. Tracking her. "If they think they've succeeded, they'll drop their guard. Hopefully."
"What about Sharon?" Maria asked. "She'll tell Fury Bruce and the SHIELD researchers treated me in the tower clinic."
" Clinic," Tony muttered. "She calls a state-of-the-art private hospital a clinic ."
"Sharon trusted Steve enough to get you here," Darcy said, ignoring Tony. "But she's gone already, back to SHIELD. We'll dupe her like everyone else."
"Cold," Jane said quietly.
Darcy looked at her friend. Something flashed between them. "Necessary."
Jane nodded and went back to her tablet. That easily.
"And how are you going to fake my death?" Maria asked. So logical, even wounded and barely mobile, eyes glazed by drugs. Going one step at a time through the whole plan.
Bruce twisted his hands together beneath the countertop. He was standing behind the granite because it made him feel more secure, separated from the situation, and he needed that illusion of control. The other guy was raging and furious at this transgression, this attack on someone Bruce considered colleague/ally/friend, and Bruce felt dangerously close to the edge.
"An experimental drug to drastically lower heart rate and core temperature but keep the body's essential functions alive," he said. This was good. This was cold hard science; this was something he was good at, could focus on, and still be productive. It was a life raft and it would keep him afloat. "It's serious, but you're in no real danger now. We'll fake a complication. Internal bleeding… that's plausible. We inject you tonight. I'll dose you enough for twenty hours. More than that and you risk not coming back. Then it's a simple matter of rushing Maria's "body" down to the tower clinic. They'll confirm she's dead, put her in a body bag, and send her over to the morgue. Hardest part to fake will be rigor mortis."
"I've got myself down for cremation on SHIELD files," Maria said.
Clint met her eyes. "So we do a body swap at the crematorium, and I start planning a memorial service for you."
Maria nodded.
"I can find a Jane Doe who looks more or less the same for the swap," Bruce added. "I've got friends at the cadaver labs at a couple universities in the area."
"Clint, you can handle the swap?" Darcy asked.
Clint frowned. "I'd prefer a partner. It's kind of hard to fight and disable security cams while carrying a dead body."
"I'll go with him."
Everyone stared at Natasha.
She lifted her chin and looked between them. Surety gleamed in every line of her posture. "We've been partners for years. No offense meant, but Steve and Tony, you're our other fighters and you are not great at subtlety."
"Hey," Tony said, offended. "I can be subtle."
"Like that one time we found you in a depressed funk, bloody and bruised, eating donuts on top of the donut shop in your Iron Man suit? Subtle like that?" Natasha shot back.
Darcy snorted. "Please tell me you have pictures of that glorious moment," she said.
"Absolutely," Tony said. "They're all in my file. You can read them as soon as you break the four levels of encryption and bypass JARVIS' mainframe."
"I'll get there," Darcy said with supreme confidence.
Steve rubbed his temples. "So… we're doing this?"
"Guess so," Clint said, looking perfectly content.
"I'll get on the phone," Bruce said.
"Mr. Rogers, there is a call coming for you from a classified number," JARVIS broke in.
Steve patted his pockets. "My phone…"
"Here you go, Grandpa," Darcy said, and passed over her own. "JARVIS, can you reroute it?"
"Consider it done," JARVIS said. Seconds later, Darcy's phone began to ring.
Steve stared at the screen for a moment, then pressed Accept on the screen, and put it on speaker.
"Captain Rogers?"
"Rumlow?" Steve asked, frowning.
Maria lifted her head. Bruce realized that at some point she and Clint had ended up holding hands.
Tony reached for a viewscreen folded up near the ceiling, pulled it down, and started typing.
"Yeah, it's me. You're wanted at headquarters."
"The Triskelion? I'm in New York," Steve said.
Tony swiveled the screen to face the team, and they saw a mug shot of a SHIELD agent. Hard-faced, dark-haired, with an impressive list of successful missions. One of Fury's top agents. Maria's and Clint's faces tightened.
"I didn't make the call," Rumlow said.
"Who did?"
"Pierce and Fury."
"Of course they did," Steve muttered. "I'll be there in a couple of hours."
"See you then," Rumlow said, and hung up.
"You've worked with Rumlow?" Tony asked.
Steve shrugged. "We've met a few times around SHIELD headquarters. Scuttlebutt had it he was going to be assigned a task force under me, but then we kind of broke with Fury, so… that's probably not going to happen."
Maria frowned.
"And Pierce?" Bruce asked. He really needed to pay more attention to people.
Or he could be like Jane. He glanced over and saw that, as usual, she was not paying attention, her thoughts still immersed in the tablet that she was furiously typing away on.
"Head of SHIELD, member of the World Security Council," Maria said. "Friend of Fury's. Be careful, Steve. Rumlow…"
Tony angled his head toward Maria. "What do you know about Rumlow?" he asked.
"Nothing concrete," Maria said. "But you know I wouldn't say anything if I wasn't sure."
"I have good instincts," Clint added. "And I agree. Don't trust him."
Steve looked troubled. "This should be fun," he muttered.
"I'll have a jet prepped," Tony said, and headed for the elevators.