"There's a Pretty Young Thing There in Front of You..."
Fanfic! Oh God there are four I should be working on (Maria's '94 t.v. show Iron Man/War Machine, snowyofthenight's Gareth AU, tiamatschild's Galahad Lent-Holy Week metaphor, and skaryma's birthday gift).
But for the meantime:
Title: Several Remarks Not Included in the Official Report on Operation: Rebirth
Fandom: X-Men: Evolution
Characters: Nick Fury, Wolverine, heavily implied Wolverine/Captain America and Wolverine/Nick Fury (okay, not so much IMPLIED...)
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Oh god wryyy. Uh. Written with lots of help from tiamatschild, using information solely from the Captain America episode ("Operation:Rebirth"). Captain America's backstory is taken from the comics/made up out of whole cloth, as Evolution does not provide one.
Several Remarks Not Included in the Official Report on Operation: Rebirth
I ain’t saying I never had anything with Weapon X. Heh. He’s not too crazy about that name these days--funny thing, that, you’d think a guy would be more attached to the name he was born with, if you can call exploding out of a test tube being born. Anyway, I ain’t saying we were ever doing anything together, but let’s put it this way: there’s a reason S.H.I.E.L.D. has his DNA in our files. And we didn’t exactly end on a good note--it was more of rebound kind of thing, right after Rogers got put in suspended animation down in our third basement.
So maybe I did go a little overboard, calling in the jet and two HumVees just to tell him about Rebirth’s getting stolen. But I’m sure as hell not putting that in my official report. And he destroyed that backup, which is what I wanted him to do--figured, and I always figure right, that he’d do anything for Rogers, especially if ‘anything’ included sticking those claws of his into something to blow it up. Logan’s always been good with the blowing things up part.
Anyway, after the mission he stopped by S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, although it beats me how he found us. We like to keep on the move. Probably had something to do with that Professor X guy. Funny how those Xs like to hang out and swap info--wish I had a guy like that on the team. Have to think about recruiting that redhead of his someday, maybe if we ever get a New Avengers off the ground. Something to think about.
Point is, Logan showed up in my office, after nearly breaking down the door.
“I like this joint,” he said, pretty as you please, hands in his pockets. “Better than the old barber’s chair.” Starts chomping on a stogie.
“No smoking policy,” I told him. Blew a smoke ring at him.
“Listen, bub,” he says to me. “I want to see Cap.”
“Not sure we want you just wandering around the place. You got something of an ‘entering and breaking’ habit.”
Logan put his hand down on my desk, leaned up real close to me, and growled like a little badger. You wouldn’t think a Canadian would be so aggressive. “Fury, let me give you a little piece of advice. One eyepatch, that’s badass. Two, that’s just ass.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’ve been in your pants, and I’m not quakin’ in my boots from your manliness, Nick. I gotta need for some time with Cap, and you’re gonna let me get it.”
In that kind of mood, he wasn’t exactly an impartial observer, and I got better fights to fight than a couple of petty insults from Logan. I ground my cigar out in the ashtray and stood up.
“You’re going to owe me one, Logan. And you’re gonna be invisible going in and out of there. So try not to give my secretary--or anyone else’s--another heart attack.”
He just grunted at me. Man’s an animal--some days worse than others. I’ve seen him during a bad period. You haven’t seen PTSD ‘til you’ve seen it on a guy who’s got a healing factor. When the kind of things you can recover from physically are just about endless, the stuff in your head about runs the gauntlet in nightmare fuel. Throw in his amnesia, which starts roughly after we had to put Rogers under, and ends about a year before he threw his cards in with this Professor X guy, and there’s a real stew of mental instability cooking in there.
Have to say, Rogers was probably the best thing that happened to him. Of course, Rogers was the best thing that happened to anybody he met. Great guy. Some little twerp from the Army--six feet, skinny as a garter snake on a diet, early stages of tuberculosis according to the medical records, but they put him through that serum testing and the world got a real giant out of it. Steve Rogers would have done anything for anybody out of the goodness of his heart, and with him fighting for the good guys in World War II we liberated a lot of people and saved a lot of soldiers. I wasn’t with S.H.I.E.L.D. then--sergeant of my own unit in the Army--but I heard about him, like anybody who was paying attention. When they pulled Logan from Canadian Special Forces and teamed the two of them up, it was like some kind of superhero dream team. Seemed like those two guys were meant to work with each other.
Logan must have fallen for him right after they paired up. Most people--men and women--would have given some vital body part to be the sweetheart of our very own Captain America, but Rogers wasn’t the kind of flirty type some of these supers are. Take Johnny Storm: total instability. Wild card. Because he winds up in bed with anybody who winks, and that’s problematic. This Gambit guy we’ve had on the books for a while, he’s another one--we have some of his stuff in our basement too. Including a pair of his pants, because he’s got some trouble keeping those on. But not Rogers.
Rogers was like Miss America, in a way. Big national symbol, virginal sweetness, charisma that could drop you at fifty paces or on your little eight-inch T.V. screen. And Logan was the lucky guy who wound up with him. Of course, that was all under wraps for a whole hell of a lot of reasons. And they were both private types.
But then that cellular degeneration bit kicked in, the fine print on the superhero contract, not that anybody had bothered to let Rogers know. Beat the hell out of humans, some kind of gene dealio that I don’t know all about because I have people I trust to know all about it for me. Rogers probably would have let it go and just gone somewhere to spend his last days in peace, but Logan wasn’t about to let that happen. He was the one who tracked me down.
“We there yet?”
“Nearly. You can only have about an hour with him, so say whatever you’ve got to say. Then I’ll be back to get you out. I have to finish up my initial report with Durgan once you’re gone, and I want you out of my hair before then.”
“And then it’s no contact, Nick. You’re the clingiest damn ex I ever had to shake loose.”
“Thought you were a wolverine, not a bronco.”
“Yeah, well, you’re no cowboy.”
“I’ll contact you if I have a reason.”
“‘It’s Friday night and I got an itch to scratch’ ain’t no reason.”
“Have I ever--”
“Yeah. That one time in ’45. And if you ever show up on my doorstep with a bottle of Cuervo and nothin’ under your coat again I ain’t responsible for what happens.”
“Hm, is that in a good way or a bad way?”
He growled again and I flashed my ID to the gal going over records in the door to Roger’s hallway. She waved me by without looking up, said, “Afternoon, Colonel Fury.”
Then it was a few doors down and four or five locks and a coded passkey, and I opened the door to Roger’s room. He was still there, like he had any way of moving. That box looked like a goddamn Snow White’s coffin, clear glass, and that green juice of Pym’s bubbling around Rogers, who was laid out like he was doing a backfloat. Looked totally calm. Logan turned around and gave me an eyeball that looked like it could wither whole fields at a time, so I gave ‘em some privacy. As I closed the door behind me I could hear him saying, “Been a long time, Cap. Missed you.”
By the time Rogers’ body started turning bad, the war was over, and I was head of S.H.I.E.L.D. So when Logan came after me and started giving me all that business about how there had to be some way to save Steve, and nearly shaking me dead the whole time, at least I had some strings to pull. I got hold of Hank Pym, who’s a brilliant doctor if he’s nothing else. Too bad I didn’t have that Richards kid, but he didn’t sprout up until the eighties. Same for Parker.
Luckily, Pym was smart enough to get me something for Rogers, and I was smart enough to get Tony Stark to build the contraption, and in six months we had the whole thing rigged up--the glass box, the green juice, the machines to keep it all running for as many years as it’s going to take. Pym gave Rogers and Logan the briefing on how exactly it was going to work, and I donated S.H.I.E.L.D.’s third basement for storage, and next thing I knew it was all over and Rogers was boxed up and ready to go.
Kinda touching, if a guy could admit it. After all, there was a minute when Rogers just had to make the plunge. Couldn’t just keep squeezing Logan’s hand until he died. Had to let go, give Pym the nod, and go under. And I heard Logan was there the whole time, probably growling and grunting and making Pym fear for his life. And then the whole thing was over.
We put Rogers down in the basement, and Logan stayed around for a little while, to rebound on me and keep an eye on Rogers. Didn’t stay long enough to help me out with the Avengers, or to be there when Tony Stark jumped the goddamn shark and made himself into Iron Man. That kid’s trouble, and I know it. Logan would’ve been good for him, shake him up a little. But by then Logan was long gone, blitzing around in Canada or something like that, and losing his memory doing Jesus-knows-what.
Which left me with S.H.I.E.L.D., and that kept my hands full anyway. And it honestly doesn’t bother me that we’ve got Rogers down in the basement.
“Time’s up.”
“Yeah. Right.” His eyes were actually looking a little moist, but I didn’t say anything. He leaned down over Roger’s box and said, “I promise ya, Cap, we’re still lookin’ for a cure. And we’ll find one. Then it’ll be you and me again, just like old times.” Then he straightened up and came out the door to me, waiting while I locked it up.
“Remember, you were never here.”
“Yeah. I know that, bub.”
By the time he waltzed out he was chomping that goddamn stogie again, like he was the coolest cucumber that ever darkened my door. But that was always Logan’s way.
But for the meantime:
Title: Several Remarks Not Included in the Official Report on Operation: Rebirth
Fandom: X-Men: Evolution
Characters: Nick Fury, Wolverine, heavily implied Wolverine/Captain America and Wolverine/Nick Fury (okay, not so much IMPLIED...)
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Oh god wryyy. Uh. Written with lots of help from tiamatschild, using information solely from the Captain America episode ("Operation:Rebirth"). Captain America's backstory is taken from the comics/made up out of whole cloth, as Evolution does not provide one.
Several Remarks Not Included in the Official Report on Operation: Rebirth
I ain’t saying I never had anything with Weapon X. Heh. He’s not too crazy about that name these days--funny thing, that, you’d think a guy would be more attached to the name he was born with, if you can call exploding out of a test tube being born. Anyway, I ain’t saying we were ever doing anything together, but let’s put it this way: there’s a reason S.H.I.E.L.D. has his DNA in our files. And we didn’t exactly end on a good note--it was more of rebound kind of thing, right after Rogers got put in suspended animation down in our third basement.
So maybe I did go a little overboard, calling in the jet and two HumVees just to tell him about Rebirth’s getting stolen. But I’m sure as hell not putting that in my official report. And he destroyed that backup, which is what I wanted him to do--figured, and I always figure right, that he’d do anything for Rogers, especially if ‘anything’ included sticking those claws of his into something to blow it up. Logan’s always been good with the blowing things up part.
Anyway, after the mission he stopped by S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, although it beats me how he found us. We like to keep on the move. Probably had something to do with that Professor X guy. Funny how those Xs like to hang out and swap info--wish I had a guy like that on the team. Have to think about recruiting that redhead of his someday, maybe if we ever get a New Avengers off the ground. Something to think about.
Point is, Logan showed up in my office, after nearly breaking down the door.
“I like this joint,” he said, pretty as you please, hands in his pockets. “Better than the old barber’s chair.” Starts chomping on a stogie.
“No smoking policy,” I told him. Blew a smoke ring at him.
“Listen, bub,” he says to me. “I want to see Cap.”
“Not sure we want you just wandering around the place. You got something of an ‘entering and breaking’ habit.”
Logan put his hand down on my desk, leaned up real close to me, and growled like a little badger. You wouldn’t think a Canadian would be so aggressive. “Fury, let me give you a little piece of advice. One eyepatch, that’s badass. Two, that’s just ass.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’ve been in your pants, and I’m not quakin’ in my boots from your manliness, Nick. I gotta need for some time with Cap, and you’re gonna let me get it.”
In that kind of mood, he wasn’t exactly an impartial observer, and I got better fights to fight than a couple of petty insults from Logan. I ground my cigar out in the ashtray and stood up.
“You’re going to owe me one, Logan. And you’re gonna be invisible going in and out of there. So try not to give my secretary--or anyone else’s--another heart attack.”
He just grunted at me. Man’s an animal--some days worse than others. I’ve seen him during a bad period. You haven’t seen PTSD ‘til you’ve seen it on a guy who’s got a healing factor. When the kind of things you can recover from physically are just about endless, the stuff in your head about runs the gauntlet in nightmare fuel. Throw in his amnesia, which starts roughly after we had to put Rogers under, and ends about a year before he threw his cards in with this Professor X guy, and there’s a real stew of mental instability cooking in there.
Have to say, Rogers was probably the best thing that happened to him. Of course, Rogers was the best thing that happened to anybody he met. Great guy. Some little twerp from the Army--six feet, skinny as a garter snake on a diet, early stages of tuberculosis according to the medical records, but they put him through that serum testing and the world got a real giant out of it. Steve Rogers would have done anything for anybody out of the goodness of his heart, and with him fighting for the good guys in World War II we liberated a lot of people and saved a lot of soldiers. I wasn’t with S.H.I.E.L.D. then--sergeant of my own unit in the Army--but I heard about him, like anybody who was paying attention. When they pulled Logan from Canadian Special Forces and teamed the two of them up, it was like some kind of superhero dream team. Seemed like those two guys were meant to work with each other.
Logan must have fallen for him right after they paired up. Most people--men and women--would have given some vital body part to be the sweetheart of our very own Captain America, but Rogers wasn’t the kind of flirty type some of these supers are. Take Johnny Storm: total instability. Wild card. Because he winds up in bed with anybody who winks, and that’s problematic. This Gambit guy we’ve had on the books for a while, he’s another one--we have some of his stuff in our basement too. Including a pair of his pants, because he’s got some trouble keeping those on. But not Rogers.
Rogers was like Miss America, in a way. Big national symbol, virginal sweetness, charisma that could drop you at fifty paces or on your little eight-inch T.V. screen. And Logan was the lucky guy who wound up with him. Of course, that was all under wraps for a whole hell of a lot of reasons. And they were both private types.
But then that cellular degeneration bit kicked in, the fine print on the superhero contract, not that anybody had bothered to let Rogers know. Beat the hell out of humans, some kind of gene dealio that I don’t know all about because I have people I trust to know all about it for me. Rogers probably would have let it go and just gone somewhere to spend his last days in peace, but Logan wasn’t about to let that happen. He was the one who tracked me down.
“We there yet?”
“Nearly. You can only have about an hour with him, so say whatever you’ve got to say. Then I’ll be back to get you out. I have to finish up my initial report with Durgan once you’re gone, and I want you out of my hair before then.”
“And then it’s no contact, Nick. You’re the clingiest damn ex I ever had to shake loose.”
“Thought you were a wolverine, not a bronco.”
“Yeah, well, you’re no cowboy.”
“I’ll contact you if I have a reason.”
“‘It’s Friday night and I got an itch to scratch’ ain’t no reason.”
“Have I ever--”
“Yeah. That one time in ’45. And if you ever show up on my doorstep with a bottle of Cuervo and nothin’ under your coat again I ain’t responsible for what happens.”
“Hm, is that in a good way or a bad way?”
He growled again and I flashed my ID to the gal going over records in the door to Roger’s hallway. She waved me by without looking up, said, “Afternoon, Colonel Fury.”
Then it was a few doors down and four or five locks and a coded passkey, and I opened the door to Roger’s room. He was still there, like he had any way of moving. That box looked like a goddamn Snow White’s coffin, clear glass, and that green juice of Pym’s bubbling around Rogers, who was laid out like he was doing a backfloat. Looked totally calm. Logan turned around and gave me an eyeball that looked like it could wither whole fields at a time, so I gave ‘em some privacy. As I closed the door behind me I could hear him saying, “Been a long time, Cap. Missed you.”
By the time Rogers’ body started turning bad, the war was over, and I was head of S.H.I.E.L.D. So when Logan came after me and started giving me all that business about how there had to be some way to save Steve, and nearly shaking me dead the whole time, at least I had some strings to pull. I got hold of Hank Pym, who’s a brilliant doctor if he’s nothing else. Too bad I didn’t have that Richards kid, but he didn’t sprout up until the eighties. Same for Parker.
Luckily, Pym was smart enough to get me something for Rogers, and I was smart enough to get Tony Stark to build the contraption, and in six months we had the whole thing rigged up--the glass box, the green juice, the machines to keep it all running for as many years as it’s going to take. Pym gave Rogers and Logan the briefing on how exactly it was going to work, and I donated S.H.I.E.L.D.’s third basement for storage, and next thing I knew it was all over and Rogers was boxed up and ready to go.
Kinda touching, if a guy could admit it. After all, there was a minute when Rogers just had to make the plunge. Couldn’t just keep squeezing Logan’s hand until he died. Had to let go, give Pym the nod, and go under. And I heard Logan was there the whole time, probably growling and grunting and making Pym fear for his life. And then the whole thing was over.
We put Rogers down in the basement, and Logan stayed around for a little while, to rebound on me and keep an eye on Rogers. Didn’t stay long enough to help me out with the Avengers, or to be there when Tony Stark jumped the goddamn shark and made himself into Iron Man. That kid’s trouble, and I know it. Logan would’ve been good for him, shake him up a little. But by then Logan was long gone, blitzing around in Canada or something like that, and losing his memory doing Jesus-knows-what.
Which left me with S.H.I.E.L.D., and that kept my hands full anyway. And it honestly doesn’t bother me that we’ve got Rogers down in the basement.
“Time’s up.”
“Yeah. Right.” His eyes were actually looking a little moist, but I didn’t say anything. He leaned down over Roger’s box and said, “I promise ya, Cap, we’re still lookin’ for a cure. And we’ll find one. Then it’ll be you and me again, just like old times.” Then he straightened up and came out the door to me, waiting while I locked it up.
“Remember, you were never here.”
“Yeah. I know that, bub.”
By the time he waltzed out he was chomping that goddamn stogie again, like he was the coolest cucumber that ever darkened my door. But that was always Logan’s way.