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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong	By : ChrisCross Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 9417 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or The Avengers. I make no money, and live on reveiws alone

Chapter List
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*A.N. Thank you WritersQuill for the reveiw! I love feedback. Also, to my crazy bff (you know who you are) thanks for letting me borrow the idea behind Cate. I will keep her as true to form as possible, tell me if I stray too far in the beta reports.*
---Additional Disclaimer--- I also do not own Stephen Strange, but he made sense as the shrink to see for that sort of thing. It is a cohesive universe, so I may overlap references out of the specified sector of the fandom. Sorry, but it kinda had to happen. I still make no money.
                  It was three days later when Nick Fury had tracked down the old records. Then a day for Stark's hired medical historian to re-evaluate misdiagnosed medical issues. Two more days to get a final sum up of all the things Steve would need to take or do to fix them. A week had passed when the doctors said he was free to move about. Tony, in his usual impersonal efficiency had called a meeting of the team that day. Steve was still fairly rocky on his feet, so they had opted to have him in a wheelchair. Banner had reverted to his normal human form, so at least there wasn’t a giant green reminder of how badly this mistake had cost them. Bruce, in fact, looked almost as embarrassed by this as Steve felt. In the lounge they had chosen to use for its wheelchair access was the team, minus Thor who was still on Asgard, Nick Fury and a medium tall brunette woman in a full S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. She perched on the arm of the overstuffed armchair that Fury occupied looking mildly bored and fidgety.
                    Tony spoke first, taking a leadership role that would have irked the Super Soldier normally, but frankly, Steve just wasn’t feeling at all super, and so he listened quietly. “Folks, we have a bit of a problem here. The chatter on the S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence networks indicates that Hydra may not be quite as dead as we could have hoped, and the new man in charge, a Baron Zemo, knows Captain America isn’t as dead as they could have hoped, and he also knows, somehow, that the super soldier is off duty as it were. Fortunately Steve, the only records that had been found in the mop-up efforts while you were doing time as an ice cube indicate that the old Hydra only had pictures of Super-you, not the normal you. We are going to hope that the current model is also in the dark, but also try to derail their efforts to get new info. Romanov, you’re on that.”
                      “It’s Romanova, Stark.” the assassin added dryly “Russians add an “a” to the end of the last names of women. But you are right to assign me to that task. Infiltration is my forte after all.”
                      “Got it, sorry ‘bout that, but you have so many names I was bound to mess one of them up sooner or later. Barton, do you feel up to tagging along on that one? You two do work well together, but we could also use the backup here, since we’ll be down two already.”
                     The blonde archer shifted in his seat on the sofa. “I should stay put, I think. Strange says I’m making progress on the after effects of the whole ‘flying monkey’ fiasco, but I’m not good for under cover yet. The damn flashbacks could get Nat in trouble if I lapse at the wrong time.” He had been seeing a doctor who specialized in the metaphysical, a guy named Stephen Strange.
                      “Good, you can be out front and visible with Iron Man. I talked Rhodey into taking the suit so Bruce and I can focus on what the beam did to Steve. You good with that, Banner?”
                       “Of course. But I can’t promise success. I couldn’t fix myself after all. Steve, you should probably be prepared to stay the way you are for a while.” The doctor looked resigned to spending time and effort on a potentially dead end project.
                        Tony did not seem to share Bruce's pessimism “S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to be helping us on that front. Fury, you’re up.”
The spy master huffed in his characteristic gruff manner. “The problem with leaving you here, is that everybody with a working TV knows Captain America is an Avenger, that the Avengers live in the tower with the great big A on it, and I’ll wager that Zemo or any other villains looking to off a de-powered Super Soldier will look here first. Your defenses are good, but with enough pre-planning, they are breakable. So we’re going to bait and switch. Avengers Tower will go on full alert, but Steve won’t be there. He’ll be staying at Agent McCann’s flat for the duration, unless it becomes necessary to move him. McCann is in charge of body guard detail, and we have a number of very good hackers creating a false identity for Rogers. Any questions?” He did not sound like he wanted questions, but Steve felt compelled to ask one.
  “Sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but, why her? Not that you aren’t capable ma’am, but wouldn’t it look odd for a man to move in with you? I just don’t want to damage your reputation.”
  The brunette stood, unfolding her arms as she did, revealing that she was also extraordinarily thin for her height. “My cover identity is as a gallery owner. My name is on the paperwork regarding the ownership and running of a gallery in SoHo, I show up there for openings and boss the assistants around by phone, and to most of the world, Catherine ‘Cate’ McCann is just another pretentious wanna-be connoisseur of art. We keep the funding of the gallery low enough that when Agents or assets need to lie low, I can reasonably say that I’m renting out the upper floor of my loft for extra income. I’m not the only Agent to do this, but I’m the only one in New York City. Stark and Banner might need you for tests, so we didn’t want to take you that far away. Also, you were in an art program when you signed up for the SSR. A gallery owner renting a room to a painter; it makes sense.” She spoke rapidly, but clearly enough that she could be understood. Her general attitude seemed to be one of constant action. She certainly looked dissatisfied with the talking, and although polite, not very welcoming. Not wanting to irritate his host any more than she already had been, Steve murmured an assent to her logic and excused himself to pack.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
  There really wasn’t much to pack. He had few mementos left that he didn’t want to abandon, due to his seventy year nap, and someone, most likely Pepper, had already packed a bag of new clothes in his new, or rather, old smaller size. The only things he really wanted to make sure came with him were a small sketchpad and pencil set, and a ridiculously tiny device that Clint had programmed with music from the late Thirties and early Forties and showed him how to use. The music was relaxing to him, and keeping it on the small iPod helped him remember that he could integrate his old life with this strange new world. There were a few photos of his old unit from promotional flyers that he’d had framed, but it would defeat the purpose of going under cover if he took them. As a last minute thought he grabbed a book off his nightstand at random. He had gotten in the habit of stacking the books he wanted to read on the table by the bed, even if he never read them in bed. One last look at the room that had been his for half a year; and he turned his wheelchair around and moved toward the elevator and a new chapter in his life.
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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong