fateandfortune | A Whole New World [For Steve Rogers]

A Whole New World [For Steve Rogers]

It had been one year almost to the day since she'd arrived in this universe that wasn't her own. Well, it was hers, she supposed, just not the one she'd always known, and not one where she necessarily belonged. When the timeline had reset, the war had been erased from history and lives changed beyond imagine. Some people had been born who had never existed, and some who had been born were now...

Perhaps that's why she had come into the new world as she had. While the others in that mountain temple had simply woken up in new bodies with no memory of their previous lives, she had no body to go into. There had been no Marie born in this alternate universe, no Rogue had joined the X-Men and fought for mutant rights. So here she was, in the scarred body she'd had in her original timeline, full of memories of all the atrocities humanity had committed against itself. She'd tried to step back into her old life with the X-Men, sharing with Charles more of what had happened in her world so he and the others might be more aware of the dangerous possibilities ahead, but in the end it had just been too painful to stay in the mansion. Once it had been her home, but those monsters had turned it into a prison and she would never be able to escape those memories.

It was when she'd spoken with Charles of her decision to leave that he had offered her an opportunity that she hadn't been able to refuse -- the chance to help establish a new school for mutants on the west coast. For years now, the mutant population had been growing exponentially, and there was a great need for another school to accommodate all the children who needed safety and training. The foundations were already being laid for the building, all she would have to do was supervise the construction and security plans. As the months had passed and the project progressed, though, she found herself more involved than just that, adding her own design touches and recruiting teachers and other staff for when the school opened. They were less than a year out now from receiving their first cohort of students, and she was surprised to find that she was genuinely excited about it.

She'd missed feeling that way. About anything.

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Wanda was never, never ever ever allowed to do magic around him again. Even if she was just practicing - maybe especially if she was only practicing. That was all Steve had to say about the whole thing.

Showing up in places he didn't belong was beginning to feel like old hat to Steve. It always threw him off somewhat, but he was starting to get better with just going with it, figuring out what was going on, and moving forward.

He really, really wished he wasn't in the position to be so comfortable with it.

He was still in the same time (thank God), he even arrived on the same day, same year, everything. But it was instantly clear that this was not his world. He kept hearing people talk about 'mutants', and it had taken a trip to the library and a rather judgmental librarian before he learned that in this world, superpowered individuals were a lot more common than in his own, and they were collectively known as mutants, due to mutations in their DNA that gave them different powers. They could range from 'ordinary' powers like telepathy and telekinesis and super healing, to the more obscure, like manipulation of metal or water, or even the weather. To say nothing of the more 'obvious' mutations like wings or amphibian features.

Once he learned a little of the history and differences between this place and his own — universe? — he started searching for someone he might be able to talk to about getting back home. He naturally started looking for prominent mutants; Wanda wasn't a mutant, but her power seemed very in line with some of the ones he'd read about, so it stood to reason that he might be able to find someone who could try to get him home.

His search led almost right away to Charles Xavier, a teacher at a school in upstate New York; he was a prominent telepath, and outspoken on mutant rights and equality. Everything Steve read about him gave him a good feeling that talking to Dr. Xavier would be the right thing to do.

He'd been right, but unfortunately, Charles didn't know of any way to help him. It had been a long shot, but Steve still felt disappointment. What was he supposed to do now, stuck in a universe (dimension, Charles had called it, but it was hard to grasp the difference for Steve) where there were no Avengers, and his own prowess as the epitome of human physiology paled in comparison to what some of the X-Men could do. He was still only human.

Charles did offer him an suggestion, though, an opportunity Steve was unable to pass up. A new school was being started across the country, and he thought Steve's strategic and battle background might help aid the security set-up and subsequent detail. The world wasn't a safe place for mutants - something Steve inherently understood all too well - and defenses were being set in place 'just in case.' Charles told him to come back and meet with a woman named Rogue, who was going to be running the new school.

So here Steve was now, in a somewhat opulent room, waiting for Miss Rogue to arrive, so he could discuss joining her team and helping out.

When Charles recommended someone to potentially join the team she was forming, Rogue took the suggestion seriously but didn't let it cloud her judgment on the matter. She was the one who would be leading the team, who would holding all those lives in her hands while they finished construction and set up the school. If she wasn't completely certain about the choice, then even Charles couldn't convince her to change her mind.

This man, though. This Steve Rogers who was from another universe. He at least had the skills she needed to make sure she wasn't missing anything in the security plans for the new building. That was why she'd flown across the country to meet with him, because even Charles' telepathy, she had to see for herself if he was too good to be true.

With a file in her hands, she strode through the halls of the Winchester school with purpose, pushing aside the memories that tried to spring up as she passed classrooms full of children. Her heeled boots clicked against the hardwood floor until she paused in front of a door, taking a deep breath before opening it and stepping inside the sitting room.

"Mr. Rogers," she greeted the waiting man, hoping she projected enough confidence between her fitted suit and steady voice. "My name's Rogue, it's a pleasure to meet you." And she held out a gloved hand to him.

Steve had already been standing, but as soon as he heard the click of the latch, he straightened and turned away from the picturesque window and toward the door, where a woman about his age entered. Objectively, Steve noted that she was attractive, but with a serious expression on her face that seemed to age her a little, small lines around her mouth from both smiling and frowning over the years. She carried herself erect, confident, but something, some sixth sense told him it wasn't entirely natural. He'd spent the last several years in the company of Tony Stark; he was good at spotting natural confidence versus forced, at this point.

He also took note of her clothes, and the gloves covering her hands. He was glad Charles had told him previously about Rogue's mutation, or he probably would've put his foot in his mouth, asking why she felt the need to be so covered up in the beginning of summer. God, he would've looked like an asshole.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, ma'am." He flashed a perfunctory smile, getting the feeling his dubious 'charm' wouldn't work in this instance. She didn't look like she'd appreciate it, and could potentially damage her first impression of him. Best to stay serious and professional.

"I apologize for you having to come all the way out here. If it had been normal circumstances, I would've flown to you; as it is, if you decide you don't want me on your team..." He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I feel better getting on my own two feet in New York, and it's closer to Charles - Professor Xavier - if he can figure out how to get me back home."

She knew that Charles had briefed Rogers on her mutation, something she'd requested specifically to avoid any awkwardness that might result from her still wearing her gloves. It wasn't perfect, but she did have a semblance of control in this universe, so still wearing gloves and staying covered up all the time was more for comfort and insurance than anything else. With all those layers, she could relax just a little more around other people, since 'accidents' became more and more unlikely with each layer over her skin.

"It's alright," she assured him with a shake of her head, motioning for him to sit in one of the large chairs while she did the same. "It does me good to get out every once in a while, and coming here lets me see a few familiar faces." Which was sometimes quite painful, actually.

Settling back into her chair, she studied the man for a moment, seeing what she could see about him before asking her questions. "Why are you interested in this position? You won't exactly be close to Charles if you're looking to him for help."

Steve knew he had certain tells, so he made a conscious effort to hold still while he listened to Rogue speak of seeing familiar faces. He wanted to tilt his head in consideration, because she made no mention of seeing old friends, or particularly wanting to meet up with people. It was another puzzle piece he carefully set aside with a few others he was beginning to gather.

Sitting in an adjacent chair from her, Steve leaned forward slightly and rested his hands on his knees; open body language, unassuming and engaged. He was sure she was studying him probably even more intensely than he was watching her, but he was fine with that; he was the interloper onto her turf, and she had the right to any answers he could give her.

He couldn't stop a sigh from escaping at her first question. He leaned forward a little more, bracing his elbows on his knees and loosely folding his hands together between them. He stared at the floor for a moment, before raising his gaze to hers seriously. "Honestly? Because I have no real hope I'll be able to get back home. I've been through this before, ma'am. It--"

Mentioning it, Steve was suddenly struck with the realization that it was exactly the same as the last time. He was starting all over again, in a world he didn't understand, and no one he knew to turn to. He inhaled shakily, leaned back and swiped his hand slowly down over his mouth. Shoving his emotions to the back of his mind, he continued. "There's no time machine, there's no magic spell or incantation or mutation, that's going to put me where or when I want to be. I'm choosing to accept that, and moving on."

He gave her a small, wry smile. "Unfortunately, I have about two skill-sets. There are more superpowered people - mutants for the most part, I'm sure - in this world than in mine, probably even some military trained; but there are even more starving artists. And..." he shrugged. "I want to help. I know war, I know espionage, I know battle tactics and strategy - and there's no way in hell I'm signin' back up with the military. There's... I'm not really sure there's another place I'd feel I really fit in."

Rogue listened carefully to every word Steve said, reading between any lines that were drawn and finding far too many things that she could relate to on a very personal level. Being stuck somewhere with no way home -- well, she didn't exactly want to go back to her timeline that was full of death and destruction, but she didn't belong in this one by any means. So she understood that feeling of being lost and out of place, and she felt a tugging at her heart that urged her to help him.

"And how are you with children?" she questioned further, watching him closely and trying to keep all trace of emotion off her face. "We don't usually have anyone under the age of ten at our schools, but if you're still with us when we open, you'll have to deal with a bunch of hormonal teenagers with superpowers." That was the most blunt way of putting it, and it was better that he knew just what he was getting himself into.

Steve opened his mouth - and realized he really didn't have a response to that. "I... honestly am not sure. It's been a while since I was in a position to be around kids." Either 10 or 80 years, depending on how you looked at it. "I have experience wrangling half a dozen grown men who acted like children a lot of the time, if that helps. And they had access to firearms and explosives."

Sighing, he tried again. "Kids - teenagers, are young adults. They're emotional and everything is insane and changing around them, even themselves. For mutants it's even worse." He'd read that most mutations became active due to hormonal and emotional fluctuations - he'd read as much as he could about mutants, even before searching out Charles. He was glad he had. "But they're still people, and they still deserve respect, from everyone around them. They need guidance, and encouragement. They need someone to believe in them."

Really, he was just speaking about the things he'd had, or wished he'd had more of, when he'd been a teen himself (even though the term hadn't been invented yet back then).

Dealing with childlike grown men with explosives was probably pretty good preparation for dealing with mutants, actually. Lord knew how many incidents they'd had where the kids had been roughhousing or fighting and some part of the school had ended up charred or full of holes.

And then he went and said all the right things, everything she'd been waiting and hoping to hear. Even without having him in her head, she could tell that Steve was speaking from the heart and meant every word. Charles would have known if he was lying about his intentions, so hearing all of this know just cemented things in her mind.

"I agree," she said softly, before giving a firm nod. "And that's all I really needed to hear. The position's your, Mr. Rogers, if you want it."

Unsure at first - was that really it? - Steve just blinked at her for a second. Then a surprised, pleased, somewhat shy smile spread across his face. "Yeah? That's - that's great. I-- thank you. And please, call me Steve." He stood up and offered his hand to shake again.

"I really appreciate this. I know..." he wasn't sure how to word it, but hopefully she wouldn't take offense. "I know I'm not a mutant, but I understand what it's like to be different, to be considered an outcast. I know what the world's like - maybe not this world, but human behavior is still the same. I wanna help, however I can."

Standing up as well, she set her gloved hand in his for another shake, allowing herself a smile that she actually felt. It was good to have an ally in this, especially someone she thought she might be able to trust. Not with everything, but... Well.

"I'll take allies wherever I can find them," she assured him, holding the file folder with both hands in front of her. "Not everyone thinks that way, so you'll have to be prepared for that. But at my school, we'll have tolerance and acceptance on all sides." It might be far too idealistic of her, but she was determined and it showed in every part of her. She refused to let this world end up like the one she'd just left.

He didn't want to put too fine a point on it, he didn't want her to think he was just trying too hard, but he really did understand being different, getting teased and bullied and worse, just because of how he looked and the class he'd been born to. It wasn't the same, but it wasn't so dissimilar that he couldn't understand it. He'd had few allies, but part of that had been because he'd always assumed any outreach was from pity; but he knew about having allies to help you when you needed it.

"I assure you, ma'am, my upbringing more than prepared me for what the world has to offer." He didn't like it, and where he could he fought it tooth and nail, but he was prepared.

Speaking of being prepared... "I don't, umm... I'm not in any rush, if you're staying for a few days to catch up with people, but..." he gestured at his canvas bag set under the window; it held his uniform, which he'd been training in when the incident had happened that landed him in this world, his shield (thank God he'd been carrying it; through everything, at least he still had his shield), and a small pad of paper he'd swiped from the library, along with a pen. The beginning of his art collection, all over again. There were a few sketches of things he'd seen around the manor, but the pad was mostly filled with notes on mutants and other things he'd come across that were different in this world.

"I mean, I'm... ready to go. Whenever you give the word."

She'd like to hear about it sometime, his upbringing. Learn more about the man who had dropped into this world out of nowhere. She could certainly relate to that, but at least she didn't have to deal with learning about an entire new type of human on top of everything else.

Glancing over at the bag, she felt a pang of nostalgia. She'd had one like that once, when she'd left home all those years ago. Her entire life stuffed into one bag... It was no way for anyone to live.

"Don't worry, sugar," she told him with a smile, slipping into her normal way of speaking now that the 'interview' was over. "We'll be leaving in an hour. We've both got work to do, and I'd much rather sleep in my own bed tonight."

"I wouldn't mind that myself," Steve said with a half-smile. It took only a couple seconds for the words to register, and for the mental image of Natasha to pop up in his head, raising an intrigued eyebrow at him.

"Not--that! My own-- It'll be nice to-- have my own space, again."

Christ! It was a perfectly ordinary turn of phrase, but between growing up around a consummate flirt like Bucky, and then having Natasha turn everything into an innuendo, Steve could never watch his mouth close enough not to stick his foot in it.

Steve finally just closed his eyes and prayed for patience, both for himself, and from Rogue.

Watching Steve verbally trip all over himself had to be one of the best things she'd experienced since coming to this world. It was certainly one of the funniest. She used every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from giggling as she just watched him blankly, but when he'd closed his eyes she just couldn't help it. A mischievous smirk spread across her lips and the giggles bubbled up.

"I think I'm gonna like working with you, Steve," she commented playfully, turning to head for the door. I have a feeling things will never be dull."

Hearing her words, Steve hung his head and muttered to himself, "Aww, Christ." It wasn't that he minded Rogue laughing at him, or even teasing him. He just didn't like making an ass out of himself. He'd been doing just fine when they were being professional; but then something had tripped a wire in his brain, reminding him that she was a woman - an attractive woman, not that it mattered - and he'd basically just accidentally uttered a horrible pick-up line.

Snatching up his pack, Steve jogged a few steps to catch up with her. He just had to remember they were colleagues. He didn't know Rogue at all, so it was a little like working with Natasha in the beginning. Although he'd already instinctively trusted Natasha; that tended to happen when you went into a battle against aliens together.

He hadn't picked up on anything from Rogue that told him he couldn't trust her, though. Charles trusted her, enough to put her in charge of a school full of superhuman children. That was enough for Steve, at least professionally. They'd be working closely together on the design of the school, so Steve wanted to trust her personally... he just wasn't sure if he could, entirely. He trusted easily, and sometimes it didn't work out.

It wasn't like he had anything to hide, anyway. He was used to his life literally being an open book; 'Captain America: The Rise and Fall and Return of An American Hero'. Chapter 51: Same Time, New World. Or maybe Once More Unto the Breech. But he wasn't sure he'd be comfortable reading from it aloud to anyone unfamiliar with it.

Pulling up just behind her shoulder and to the side, Steve said, "There's an old Chinese curse I seem to have been branded with. 'May you live in interesting times.' I personally would love to have things be dull for a while."

Everything Steve was thinking, Rogue was contemplating as well from her own perspective. It was one thing to be able to trust someone professionally, but doing so on a personal level was another matter entirely. There were so many dark secrets in her past, things that only one person in this world knew, and even then he didn't know everything. It was better that way, safer, and she was determined to make sure it stayed that way. So while she might become friends with Steve along the way of working together, she knew it would never be anything like what she'd had back in her old world -- there would be too many lies between them to ever be that close.

Smirking, Rogue glanced back at Steve and commented, "I know just what you mean, sugar. We'll only have any semblance of 'dull' until the kids arrive, though, so best enjoy it while it lasts."

Steve's only response to that was to raise his eyebrows in concession as he followed Rogue out to the jet. He had the feeling there would be a lot of 'hurry-up-and-wait' going on until the school was opened. That, at least, he was prepared for from his time in the army.

The jet, once they'd reached it and boarded, was a thing of beauty. A different design from the quinjet, of course, since as far as Steve could tell there was only one Tony Stark (alternate universes were lucky, he thought drolly, but then felt guilty, because for all the trouble Tony had caused them with Ultron, and as infuriating as he could be, Steve still valued him as a close friend, and missed him).

Not sure if he should speak while she was actively piloting, Steve sat behind her and checked his pack, running a hand almost soothingly over the edge of his shield where it arched out over the bundle of his costume. His touchstone, the one thing he could always count on to define him, and keep him grounded.

Once they were fully in the air and on their way, he shifted enough to peer around the back of the pilot's chair at Rogue and asked, "So, what security measures do you already have?" He wasn't expecting a fully automated and intelligent, semi-sentient computer program like JARVIS, but he had a few ideas that they might be able to implement.

It had been a huge relief when Rogue had ended up in this universe that they'd had similar jets to the ones she'd flown back with her own X-Men team. There was something comforting in being in the pilot's chair, in having that simple power in her own hands when everything else kept trying to go to shit. Her jet was like a second home, she knew every inch of the control panels now, and it was effortless to get them up in the sky and on their way.

She'd almost forgotten that Steve was even in the jet with her until he said something. Glancing back at him for a moment in almost confusion, she blinked and then nodded. "Right," she murmured to herself, turning back to where she'd stowed her bag. A tablet was retrieved and handed over to him. "This is yours. It'll prompt you to program your own security settings, so even I won't be able to access anything on there unless you give me permission. All the files about our current measures are already loaded, as well as a few ideas I'd like some feedback on - mostly stuff from the Westchester mansion that I think could be useful if they were modified a bit."

He would also find the full layout of the construction plans, individual room layouts, and the preliminary design selections she'd started making. Basically everything she'd worked on was there, except for a few very specific things. If he looked closely at the various plans, he might notice that some of the spaces between the walls were too large, that measurements didn't quite add up as they should. Because there was no way in hell that she was ever committing to paper the full layout of their escape passageways.

Thank God he was familiar with modern technology now; any questions or issues he might have he could explain as technology being different from what he was used to in his world. It wasn't exactly starting all over again, like he had after just waking up, for which he was extremely grateful.

The tablet was actually very similar to ones he'd used of Tony's design. Not quite as futuristic, where it was basically light on glass, but still slim and responsive. He had the feeling this was a little more advanced than "regular" technology, even for this world. He wouldn't be surprised if the X-Men had a genius or two working with them. He set about logging in and setting up the security, pondering a secure password for a moment before going with 'JBB31017' with a slightly pained smile.

Set-up complete, he started going through the plans. He saw some spots that could be fortified, and switched back and forth to see how best they could implement something for it. It wasn't even a conscious discovery, but as he went between different schematics, Steve's brow began to furrow. "Did--you draw these up yourself? They're not-- I mean..." he licked and then bit his lip, a perpetual nervous gesture. "They don't add up. The dimensions, I mean." He continued looking, and only a moment later, after some quick calculations, he gave a quiet, "...Oh," of recognition.

She didn't have to look to know what aspect of the plans he was examining, nor did she need to see the expression on his face when he put two and two together. It was good that he came to the realization quickly and on his own - it made her even more comfortable with her decision to take him on as a partner in this venture.

Pulling in a deep breath, she didn't turn around as she spoke, knowing she wouldn't be able to hide the pain that would creep into her expression. "Like I said earlier, not everyone is accepting of people who are different. My first year as a student at Xavier's School, a team of soldiers broke in while everyone was sleeping. We managed to get a lot of the students out through the passageways, but some were still taken." She glanced back over her shoulder in his direction for just a moment before adding, "It's part of orientation, being shown how to access those escape routes. I wish it didn't have to be, but we can't change the world overnight."

He'd seen plenty of secret passageways, both during Prohibition in different speak-easies, as well as during the war (both allied and enemy-built) to quickly get the feel of them from the plans, just from the negative spaces between the different blueprints.

He also heard the shift in Rogue's voice; he kept his head ducked toward the tablet, but cast a quick glance toward the pilot's chair, but she stayed facing away from him. He didn't miss the significance of her statement - 'we', and during her first year as a student - it had obviously left an impact, and probably been traumatic, no matter how long ago it had been, or what else she'd had to face in the intervening years. And from the measure he'd already gotten of her, Steve could tell Rogue wanted to protect her pupils from that - but barring that, at least she could keep them as safe as possible.

Looking back at the plans, and considering the mansion/school he'd had a chance to tour and then wander around for a couple days, Steve started putting pieces together. He recognized architecture that was as old as, if not pre-dated, his own time, and the Westchester school definitely fit that. He wondered if the passageways there were built in once it became a school for mutants, or if the family had had them built from the beginning. The latter wouldn't surprise him.

"The paneling," he murmured to himself, thinking of the wainscoting lining all of the hallways of the school. "I'd like to see where you plan to have the entrances for the passageways, as well as where they'll lead to. It would probably be best if there were actually at least a couple different exits - even if the entrances are hidden again before the enemy can find them, that doesn't mean they won't find them, and any confusion will hopefully slow them down."

There was a brief pause, before he grimaced. "Sorry. I-- you may have already thought of that. And I know this isn't a war situation. But..." He shrugged and gave a self-effacing little smile, even if she didn't turn to see it. "That's how I think, and that's why you hired me, I guess."

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A Whole New World [For Steve Rogers]

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