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It’s ironic, Fury thinks, that in this age of superheroes and mutants that people still ascribe so much power to Sentinels. We’ve got people who can lift ten times their own body weight or stop bullets in their tracks, but it’s still the Sentinels and Guides they want to turn to when the shit hits the fan.
Perhaps it’s that Sentinels are increasingly rare, while new superheroes (and villains, for that matter) seem to pop up every five minutes. Perhaps it’s that despite the enhanced senses, Sentinels and Guides are still essentially human. It doesn’t take a mad scientist or power-hungry politician to create a Sentinel, like it does for a Captain America or Hulk, and so people can tell themselves that Sentinels and Guides are less dangerous than the average superhero (despite ample evidence to the contrary). Perhaps it's sentimentality for a time when those with extra-human senses could be more neatly identified and labeled.
The Director doesn’t particularly care why people are so enamoured of Sentinels, except that with the government’s failed attempts at superhero registration, there aren’t many compromises left to be made between those who want governmental oversight and those who insist that superhumans should be managed from within. The middle ground is assigning an Alpha Sentinel and an Alpha Guide to oversee the new superhuman “group”: figures that could adequately fulfill both the government’s requirements and superhumans’ needs. It’s a good idea, in theory.
Realistically, Nick can count the number of people that he knows who would be both mentally and physically powerful enough to take the job on one hand, and still have fingers left over.
And there’s a trap in the government’s “compromise”, because Fury has no doubt that Ross has an off-the-books Sentinel waiting in the wings; someone who, Ross believes, can overpower the only man who would serve as the Alpha Guide in this situation. The Sentinel in question would have to be uncommonly strong to even be considered as the Alpha Sentinel of the superhumans, but Nick wouldn’t put it past Ross to try to “enhance” the Sentinel even further in an attempt to overpower Charles Xavier.
(Not that Ross’s puppet would live long after the attempt, but Fury didn’t need another conflict breaking out just when everyone had finally started acting reasonable again.)
If Fury was going to outmaneuver Ross, he needed to put up someone more powerful than the Secretary’s pick. The good news was that Fury knew just such a person. The bad news was that he’d rather gouge out his good eye than ask the man in question to take up the task.
Tony had nearly killed himself in bringing negotiations to this point; outing the man as a Sentinel would only add insult to injury. Never mind the fact that Peggy Carter would probably crawl out of her grave to kick Fury’s ass for forcing her godson into such a position.
Still, something needed to be done, and appointing Tony was the best and safest option. The people trusted him, the other superheroes trusted him (and those who were hesitant were inclined to trust Xavier), and Stark knew enough about how the political game was played to keep everyone out of trouble.
Everyone who had even tangentially followed the negotiations knew how well Tony Stark and Charles Xavier worked together, so no one could reasonably claim that it would be a unworkable partnership. Hell, Fury wouldn't be surprised if Xavier already knew that Tony was a Sentinel and was only staying quiet out of respect for the overworked genius.
As if he had been waiting for that moment, Fury’s phone rings, and he has no doubt about who is on the other end of the line. Damn telepaths.
“Good afternoon, Director Fury,” Xavier greets smoothly. “Might I suggest that if you plan to ask Tony for his help, you do it soon? He and I have spoken about this possibility, especially with the Secretary’s most recent news conference, but it will do him good to hear it directly from you.”
The admonition is gentle, of course, but Nick feels it prick anyway. He bites back a sigh and gives himself a moment to regret suggesting to Tony that the two of them keep their familiarity a secret from the others back at the start of the Avengers Initiative. They’d both had reasons for accepting the arrangement at the time, but it had put a distance between them that had meant that too much of the burden for this fight had ultimately fallen on the genius’ shoulders, and left the SHIELD director hovering in the shadows for far too long.
(Now, they were going to stack more onto the pile, and after Rhodes and Banner had just convinced the man to step back a little.)
“Do you think he’s up to the task at the moment?” Fury asks. He doesn’t ask if Tony will accept the position—they both know the answer to that question. But they also both know how good Tony is at putting up appearances and that the genius is much more exhausted right now than he’s letting on. The mind might be willing, but the body—as they say—might give up the ghost.
(And, try as they might, the other Avengers can only ease so much of their friend’s burden, even if the genius was willing to let them lighten the load.)
“Tony has worked too hard for too long to hand the reins to Ross now,” Xavier confirms. “I’m more concerned with the possibility that truly using his abilities after so long will be a further stress to his system. There is only so much assistance I can offer from here, and Mr. Rogers’ experiences and skills are not quite comparable to Tony’s own. I can send Jean, but I imagine that what Tony most needs is the chance to rest and reconnect with his team.”
It’s a task that Fury knows the rest of them will easily accept. Even Thor, who was arguably the most unapologetically cheerful of them all, had noticed the way their resident billionaire seemed to slow recently. Rousing, late-night tales of laughter and revelry only went so far. “If they can keep him in the Tower for a few weeks, feed him and give him time to tinker—”
“He’ll either have calmed down a bit or built a way to get rid of Ross altogether,” the Professor finishes wryly, making both men chuckle.
The moment passes, though, and Fury swears mentally at the reality of the situation. Xavier waits him out. There’s only one way forward, and the both of them know it. Tony likely knows it, too.
“I’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” he sighs.
“Good luck, Director Fury.”
(For a moment, Fury sorely regrets not faking his death years ago.)
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As it turns out, Fury doesn’t have to go to Tony because the genius is waiting in his office when the director gets to work the next morning. He’s made himself at home on the leather couch in the corner, coffee in one hand, Starkpad in the other. Everything seems normal, but Nick recognizes that particular tilt in Tony’s shoulders, and so he stays silent while he sets up for the day and waits for Tony to start their inevitable conversation. He makes it through half of his own coffee and most of the morning’s emails before the genius visibly steels himself to speak.
“I did some research, and the only other possible candidate for Alpha Sentinel is a kid in Idaho who’s supporting his mom and four younger siblings,” he says, without looking up from his tablet. “Even if I could convince the family to uproot their entire lives and move to New York, the guy’s barely old enough to shave, let alone deal with a bunch of superheroes. It would be stupid to drag him into the middle of something like this.” Tony takes a deep, bracing breath, though his gaze hasn’t moved from his tablet. “And it’s not like I’m completely unprepared, I...I’ve been practicing since the first time Ross said the word ‘Sentinel’ in my presence.” He looks up then to catch Fury’s eye and shrugs, half-heartedly.
Neither of them is fooled.
“I don’t want to make you do this,” Fury admits plainly, and Tony knows that he means it. If he extends his senses even a little, he can hear the hitch in the Director’s voice and the way he heart beats faster at the thought of having to spill Tony’s secret. It means more to him than either of them will ever admit.
(It's also the only reason Tony didn't throw up when FRIDAY alerted him to Fury and Xavier’s conversation. He'd known the moment was coming, but still—)
“You’re not making me do anything,” Tony counters.
Fury cocks a disbelieving eyebrow and pins the genius with a look he learned from Peggy Carter, one that he knows always pulls an honest answer out of the other man. “Aren’t I?”
“You didn't start this fight. This has been inevitable ever since the WSC tried to nuke New York; maybe ever since Ross first went after Bruce. And as much as I hate it, I can't let everything I've fought for over the past few years slip away just because I don't like the solution I've been given. Just...give me a few days to put some things in order, please.” Tony runs his fingers thoughtlessly through his hair as he considers just how he’s going to tell his teammates about his secret Sentinel-ness. It’s not that they won’t support him, but Tony’s not sure he can deal with both Steve’s inevitable “hurt and confused” face on top of whatever explosion is going to come out of Ross.
(On second thought, maybe he’ll just pack everyone up and move to a tropical island somewhere. He’s never been one for drinks with umbrellas in them, but he thinks he can learn to like them.)
Before Tony can really get going on his private island escape fantasy, there’s a knock at Fury’s door. Steve walks in a moment later, and if Tony wasn’t familiar with his teammate’s schedule for the day, he might think that the super soldier is meant to be here, instead of at an event across town. The thing is, Tony does know that Steve is supposed to be somewhere else, so the other man’s presence—in addition to the wave of concerncuriosityaffection he’s getting from Steve—means a lot to Tony.
Steve smiles as soon as he makes eye contact with Tony, and the genius can’t help but smile back. It’s not much, but it’s enough to give the Director hope.
Maybe this shitshow is going to work out, after all.