Man Out of Time - A Captain America / Avengers Fanfiction

Chapter 40

For those who might have missed the meaning of Tony Stark's cryptic message, if you recall, when Steve asked Tony why he'd stuck Bernice down in the weapons laboratory, Tony pulled out the picture Bernice had drawn of Steve wearing Iron-Man type armor, but with the increased arm and rotator cuff movement of Steve's armor designed by Howard Stark. I won't say more as you'll just have to see what Tony has to say in an upcoming chapter.

Several readers commented it troubles them Nick Fury appears oblivious to the pending threat of Natasha. If you re-read the last chapter, you'll see that isn't the case. Fury took the time to dig up all of Steve's old mission reports looking for evidence backing up Steve's claim he'd encountered such things back in 1945. He didn't find any. The witness reports from the French village disappeared, while Steve's own testimony omitted the incident in the second village because he, himself, recognized without hard evidence people would think he was crazy. The video thus far has backed up Natasha's story, not Steve's. Numerous doctors examined Natasha after she was injured, finding no evidence she is an alien. Fury has not discounted Steve's concerns. He's warned him that making accusations without-proof- is causing him to lose the trust of the people he must lead ....

It's kind of like when your best friend introduces you to her charming new boyfriend and your subconscious immediately screams 'stalker.' You don't develop those kinds of instincts until you've been personally burned.

Thanks for reading!

X

Chapter 40

Steve stared at the nondescript house in the middle of a Jersey suburb with as much apprehension as he would an invading army. Cars littered the street, although it was hard to tell if they were here for the Miller clan, or the house three doors down that appeared to have a similar family gathering. Even through the closed doors, the ruckus of far too many people jammed into a modest house and the occasional cheer, as though the clan were spectators in a coliseum, filtered all the way out to the street. Logistics. The way any seasoned soldier approached any pending battle was to come prepared. This was Bernice's family, after all. And for the first time, he was going to meet her father. He felt for the small, reassuring bulge in his coat pocket, armed with all the ammunition he needed for at least one potentially fatal question he anticipated needing to answer today. The dreaded question every suitor for a young woman's heart expected from her father.

'So ... what are your intentions towards my daughter...'

Bernice scurried to the back of the Excursion, muttering to herself as she rifled through the bags. Steve stretched his leg and winced, still wearing the brace. Banner had x-rayed it and said the fracture had already begun to knit back together. It was more inaction causing the muscles to seize up from a too-light exercise regimen and irritation at the limitations imposed by the brace itself than actual pain that bothered him now.

"And this one," Bernice said, handing him a shopping bag full of potato chips, "and this ... and this ... oh ... and can you carry this one in, please, too?"

"How many bags of chips did you buy?" Steve asked.

"Um ... a lot?" Bernice said, looking sheepish. "Not that ... um ... you noticed but ... um ... I'm not exactly the best cook."

The new, improved, 21st Century version of Steve was now savvy enough to understand this innocuous-sounding statement was a trick. A mine field, where any step in the wrong direction would result in painful, dire consequences ... to him ... if he gave the wrong answer. If he said yes, he would be confirming that the woman he loved was, indeed, a terrible cook who, only yesterday, had started a fire in her kitchen which had resulted in exploding eggs. But if he said no, he would lose her trust. She would not use him for a sounding board whenever some problem troubled her pretty mind, dooming their relationship to failure because they would never speak about anything meaningful. Answering a question about a beloved's cooking skills when there were other solutions to the problem, such as Chinese takeout, was akin to a kamikaze run on an aircraft carrier. In other words ... romantic suicide.