Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 8, 2015

Sergeant Eddie Diaz normally found the whirring whumpwhumpwhump of a helicopter’s rotors comforting, the steady rhythm a background noise that he could easily focus past.

Today, though, the sound seemed louder than usual, and the tension of the four soldiers around him in the Sikorsky Black Hawk, not to mention the anxiety practically radiating from the Air Force colonel who had called in more favors than Eddie would likely ever collect in order to authorize this mission, made focusing past anything difficult.

In fairness to them, though, this mission carried more emotional weight than most. This mission’s objective was to locate and, if possible, retrieve Tony Stark from the terrorist organization that had kidnapped him three months ago. It was the final mission that would be authorized, and Eddie refused to contemplate what condition Stark might be in if they succeeded.

Not for the first time, he wished his sentinel gifts had manifested, so that they’d have a better chance at finding Stark.

As it was, there were no online Protectors - sentinels or guides - on this mission. Apparently, the colonel’s favors only extended so far.

Still, Eddie scanned the endless sea of sand beneath them, just as the other soldiers - and one flyboy - did. The more eyes involved in the search, the greater the chance that they could find Stark.

Twice nothing is still nothing.

The line from an episode of the original Star Trek TV series whispered through his mind, and he shoved it away as forcefully as he could-

-only to gasp as a wave of psionic energy washed over him-

-and then scream as his senses overloaded-

-the roaring of the helo blades-

-the near-blinding Afghan sun streaming through the windscreen-

-conflicting scents of spicy aftershave, sweat, and the lingering odors of breakfast-

“Diaz!” Bender’s voice sounded like a shout, and Eddie instinctively shifted away from him.

His eyes closed against both the psionic wave and the sunlight, blocking out distraction as he tried to center and shield himself against the onslaught…

…which was gone almost as quickly as it happened, and in its wake, Eddie’s perceptions returned to normal and beyond that, he felt a strong sense of Guide.

He toggled his radio, staring at the back of the pilot’s helmet as though that would make the communication clearer. “Sir - a guide has just come online in distress.”

The Air Force colonel - Rhodes - in the shotgun seat twisted to stare at him. “You’re online?”

“Just now, sir,” Eddie answered, and the Colonel’s eyes widened in surprise. Eddie understood, because he felt much the same.

Sentinels and guides in reasonably close proximity to each other came online in the same instant, which meant that the newly-online guide was probably Eddie’s. Assuming he found them.

“You okay, Diaz?” Bender asked from the seat beside Eddie, where he’d twisted to try to reach him. Thankfully Bender’s voice was back to its normal volume.

Eddie nodded tightly. Bender nodded acknowledgment and sat back normally in his seat.

“Colonel,” Lieutenant Hawke, the pilot and mission commander, said. “Per the Protectorate Protocols, we must divert to assist if possible.”

The colonel nodded. “Absolutely right, Lieutenant. Which way, Sergeant - Diaz, is it?”

“Yes, sir, and ten o’clock.”

The Black Hawk banked north-northeast, and it took a few minutes before Eddie could further refine the direction the psionic wave had come from - the direction where the guide - his guide? - was. The lieutenant followed his instructions without complaint.

“There!” Corporal Vogel called out. “It looks like…wreckage of some sort?”

“Diaz?” Hawke asked.

Eddie focused on the wreckage which, at least, wasn’t smoking. “Yes, sir. But nothing I recognize.”

Hawke brought the helo closer to the desert floor, sand blowing to either side like the wake from a boat, and Eddie sat forward, straining with sentinel eyes to get a better look at the wreckage.

Something glinted in the harsh afternoon sun. Eddie blinked and looked again. Yes, he was right.

The wreckage moved. Eddie focused on it, stretching his senses in the way his abuela had taught him. The wreckage moved again, and this time he could make out a hand as it flung away part of the debris.

“There’s someone alive down there!” Eddie called.

“That our guide, Diaz?” Hawke asked.

Eddie took a moment to touch his connection to the psionic plane, confirming his physical impressions. “Yes, sir.”

As the helo banked again, making a slow circle around the wreckage - of what, Eddie couldn’t hazard a guess - Eddie swallowed back the instructions he shouldn’t have to give. If he did have to - if Hawke, Rhodes, and the others failed to follow procedure - he figured it would be the end of his career.

Finally, Hawke brought the Black Hawk down, and Eddie hung back, waiting while the rest of the crew established a perimeter. Not that anyone approaching wouldn’t be clearly visible against the barren horizon, but procedure was procedure.

When Vogel’s “Clear!” echoed through his headset, Eddie slipped from his seat and hurried toward the wreckage as quickly as the shifting sand allowed, his medical pack heavy against his back.

The guide - a man, based on the musculature of the bare arm Eddie could just make out - was partly encased in metal that matched the wreckage around him, and when Eddie landed on his knees beside the guide, he was surprised to see that the guide was not, in fact, the pulpy mess that the impact crater around him suggested he should be.

As if to prove that, the guide reached for the helmet that concealed his face.

“No,” Eddie snapped, and the other man stilled. Eddie let his psionic shields thin as the guide reached out empathically.

“Sentinel?” The metal helmet muffled the word.

“Sergeant Eddie Diaz,” Eddie said, then grimaced and corrected himself. “Sentinel Sergeant Eddie Diaz. Will you let me help you, guide?”

The guide - could it possibly be Tony Stark? - was quiet for a moment. Then, “Please.”

Eddie pulled off his helmet and checked the man - the guide - for spinal injuries before he removed the helmet and confirmed that the guide was in fact Tony Stark-

-whose face was contorted in pain. While he was certainly in physical pain, Eddie felt certain that in this moment, Stark’s greater pain was psionic, and in this moment, Eddie was the only one who could possibly alleviate that.

Reaching for him psionically as well as physically, Eddie cupped Stark’s face between his palms, and, a heartbeat later, they were both on the psionic plane.

“You can’t stay here,” Eddie told the other man.

“It doesn’t hurt here,” Stark countered.

Eddie couldn’t argue that point, so he didn’t. “Yeah, maybe. But look around.” He spread his arms wide, encompassing the flat, blue-tinged desert-like environment surrounding them.

Stark did as asked, turning a full, slow circle. When he faced Eddie again, his expression had shifted to confusion. “This is it? This is the psionic plane?”

Eddie nodded. “Not a lot to do here, is there? You’ll be bored in an hour. Worse? You are currently in psionic shock, and physical shock isn’t far behind. If you don’t go back…”

“I’ll have escaped a cave to die in a desert.” Stark grimaced. “Not that great an improvement.” He blew out a breath. “Okay. Can you get me back?”

“Probably not, since you brought us here.”

Stark blinked. “I did?”

Eddie gestured to himself. “Sentinel. I can access the plane, but it usually takes a lot of meditation. All I meant to do was stabilize your psionic senses, and then I was here.”

“Huh.” Stark looked thoughtful for a moment before frowning again as he regarded Eddie. Eddie stayed still under the other man’s gaze, studying him in turn.

A gray wolf shimmered into view beside Eddie, and he blinked at this first sight of his spirit animal, even as a raven swooped over Stark’s shoulder to land in front of the wolf.

The two spirit animals had a…well, the only word that fit was standoff. They studied each other like two gunfighters out of the Old West and, after a moment, the wolf growled and the raven flew up and away with a long, echoing caw.

Stark frowned. “We’re not psionically compatible.”

“Not remotely.” Which meant Tony Stark was not actually his guide. Eddie wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

“Shame.” Stark leered at him. “You’re hot like fire.”

“We’re in a desert, Mr. Stark,” Eddie said dryly. “Everyone’s hot.”

“Not at all what I meant, but fine. So, how do we get back to the physical plane?”

Eddie talked him through the process of feeling for and anchoring in his body. “Then it’s just a matter of will.”

Stark frowned again. “What about you? If I brought you here, do I have to send you back?”

“Any other sentinel, maybe. But my abuela’s a powerful guide and she taught me a lot. I’ve got this.”

“You’d better.”

Stark’s psionic body disappeared. Eddie waited a moment to be sure he wasn’t coming back, then anchored himself in his body-

-and blinked against the harsh desert sun.

When his vision adjusted, he saw that Stark regarded him evenly. A moment’s concentration told him that Stark’s psionic senses hadn’t fully stabilized, but were under enough control that Eddie could start to work on his physical injuries.

When he dropped his hands from Stark’s face and started checking Stark’s extremities, the men around them relaxed.

“So much for the fun-vee,” Rhodes said from where stood nearby - close to his friend, but not close enough to impede Eddie’s work. “Next time you ride with me.”

Stark replied with a thumb’s up before focusing on Eddie.

“Nothing’s broken,” Stark said.

“Which one of us is the medic?” Eddie asked, oddly amused, even as he applied a cervical collar. Stark didn’t appear to have a spinal injury, but Eddie would be as conservative and cautious in his treatment as he could be.

Tony Stark, inventor and philanthropist, was already an international icon. Guide Tony Stark…well. Eddie looked forward to seeing what he became.

Stark glared at him, briefly, but let his head fall back against the cervical collar. Then he winced. “Everyone’s loud.”

“What?” Rhodes asked. “Nobody’s talking except the two of you.”

“He means emotionally,” Eddie said. “Not surprising - we’re all on high alert.”

“What do you suggest, sentinel?”

Eddie looked around for something that would distract the others. In this barren sea of sand, there was only one option. “Have everyone start collecting the debris.”

Rhodes gave the order, and Eddie returned his attention to his patient.

“Whatever this suit is,” Eddie said as he searched for a seam or other joining under Stark’s arm, “it seems to have kept you in one piece.”

“Not bad for being built from junkyard scraps,” Stark muttered as Eddie finally found the release for the armor and lifted the chest piece off of Stark’s body - and froze.

The power pack he thought had been built into the armor was in fact embedded in Stark’s chest. Just the sight of it made his senses twitchy, and he fought to stay focused on the patient before him.

“Dios mio.”

He must not have kept his horror from his expression any more than he’d kept it from his tone, because Stark chuckled weakly. “Yeah - field surgery at its worst.”

Eddie gave himself a mental shake. “Well, let’s get the rest of the armor off and see what we’ve got to work with.”

*BREAK*

Stark turned out to be relatively unharmed. Oh, he had bumps and bruises, plus a couple of cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder - thanks to his crash landing, no doubt - plus whatever had happened that resulted in a power pack being implanted in his chest.

That last was way above Eddie’s pay grade, and he was grateful to get Stark to a sense-shielded room and hand Stark over to the doctors on duty at FOB Patton before returning to his normal duties, or maybe the sensory exam he’d have to take thanks to his coming online.

Except Stark didn’t want to let him go, catching his hand as Eddie bid him goodbye. Eddie let himself be stopped, though it would be the work of nothing to break Stark’s grip, even before his onlining and newly-enhanced strength.

Oddly, Stark looked like he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he settled on, “Sentinel.”

Eddie smiled briefly. “Guide.”

Stark sighed. “But not my sentinel.”

“And not my guide,” Eddie murmured, though everyone around them certainly thought that was the case.

“I thought sentinels came online with their guides. So how come we’re not a match?”

“Not always,” Eddie said easily. “Though I’m pretty sure that your onlining triggered mine because we were in close proximity.”

“Hmf.” Stark settled back against his pillow. “I hope my actual sentinel is at least as hot as you are. I deserve a hot sentinel.”

Eddie wasn’t sure about that, but he chuckled and tapped the bed railing. “Take care of yourself, yeah? Don’t let all my hard work be for nothing.”

“You have paper and a pen?”

Eddie blinked. “No, but I have my phone.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, offered it to Stark. Stark shook his head. “Take my number.”

Eddie shook his head. “I-”

Stark held his gaze steadily. “You saved my life, sergeant. Sentinel.”

Eddie didn’t even try to stop his eyebrow from lifting. Then again, Stark seemed like the kind to appreciate sarcasm. “Pretty sure you did that yourself, Guide Stark.”

“No, I got me out of a cave,” Stark said. “But I would’ve died without you. Psionic shock, remember? Not to mention eventual dehydration. So, take my number. You ever need anything - anytime, anywhere - you call me.”

Eddie blew out a breath. “Mr. Stark-”

“Take the card, sentinel. And promise you’ll call if you need to.”

Eddie winced. Stark had been online less than ten hours and he already - instinctively? - knew how to put empathic emphasis on his words. What would he be like once he got some actual training?

Eddie decided then and there that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of a fully trained, pissed-off Tony Stark, so he created a new contact and entered the number Stark gave him.

Then he met Stark’s gaze and offered a respectful nod. “Guide.”

Stark regarded him gravely, and Eddie was sure Stark was, perhaps unconsciously, doing an empathic scan - possibly even marking Eddie as part of his pride. But all Stark said was, “Tony.”

“Eddie.” Eddie quirked a grin and left.

Colonel Rhodes was pacing outside the sensory deprivation room, but he paused when Eddie approached. “How is he?”

“Better than he has any right to be.”

“Sergeant - I know I’m not in your chain of command,” Rhodes began. “But I’m asking you not to tell anyone he came online.”

“I’m bound by HIPPA laws and my oath of service,” Eddie reminded him. “Besides, it’s not my place to tell anyone, or even to talk about it with those who already know.”

Rhodes nodded. “Thanks. You heading back out?”

Eddie’s lips twitched. “We all have jobs to do, sir. This is mine.”

Chapter Text

Tony squinted as the ramp of the C-130 lowered before him, revealing the tarmac at Edwards Air Force Base. The Southern California sun wasn’t quite as bright as the sun over the Afghan desert, but after sixteen hours in the belly of a cargo plane - they’d stopped once, but Tony hadn’t been allowed off the plane, so he didn’t even remember where - pretty much any light would be on the edge of too bright.

He’d ordered a suit while he was in Germany, the first stop on his journey home, and had managed to get into it with Rhodey’s help. The fit was good enough, for a rush job, but the coat barely fit over his right arm where it was strapped to his chest in a sling.

The medical staff had insisted on a wheelchair, but as the ramp lowered, Tony used his good arm to leverage himself to his feet. Rhodey was there beside him, and though he clung to Rhodey’s hand, Tony stood tall and looked straight ahead as he descended the ramp.

Not far ahead of him, Pepper Potts stood waiting, her hands clasped before her and a tremulous smile on her face. Behind her, Happy Hogan stood solidly beside a black Rolls Royce.

Not for the first time, Tony thanked whatever Power there might be that Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy were in his life. With those three beside him, he didn’t need a sentinel.

Nor did he need the gurney being wheeled toward him by two paramedics.

He didn’t even look at Rhodey. “What - are you kidding me with this? Get rid of it.”

To his credit, Rhodey didn’t protest, just waved the paramedics away as he released Tony’s hand.

Cautiously, Tony stretched out his new empathic senses as he approached Pepper, grateful beyond words at the genuine relief and affection she radiated as well as Happy’s solidly Zen presence.

He stopped a few feet from Pepper and regarded her seriously. “Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long-lost boss?”

“Tears of joy. I hate job hunting.” Her smile didn’t dim, and neither did her relief nor affection, despite the barb.

Tony allowed himself a moment to smile before he sobered. “Yeah, vacation’s over.”

He stepped past her toward the car, and then Happy was closing the door behind him.

A minute later, Happy slid into the driver’s seat. “Where to, sir?”

Pepper leaned forward. “Take us to the hospital, please, Happy.”

“No,” Tony said immediately, and Pepper turned in her seat as much as her seat belt would let her.

“But, Tony, you have to-”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Tony snapped. Her expression crumpled with hurt and he moderated his tone as he continued, “I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are two things I want to do. First, I want an American cheeseburger. And the other-”

Pepper grimaced. “That’s enough of that-”

“It’s not what you think,” Tony told her, reminding himself to be patient because she didn’t know what he’d gone through in Afghanistan, much less that he was online as a guide. “I want you to call for a press conference. Now.”

*BREAK*

Tony figured a bunch of reporters would already be at Stark Industries, not that anyone knew that’s where he was heading, so asking Pepper to arrange an immediate press conference wasn’t the burden it might normally have been. But, as Happy pulled up in front of Stark Industries HQ, and as Tony was finishing the current cheeseburger - he’d gotten half a dozen and this was his fourth - he saw that the crowd of people outside wasn’t made up of reporters. Or, not just of reporters.

No, the people gathered outside were SI employees. Tony’s employees. They were his, and they were cheering his return - with genuine gratitude, if his empathic impressions were correct - which was a little surprising, since he hadn’t considered himself a good boss.

A generous boss, yes. An accommodating boss, yes. But good? Let alone great? Not remotely.

Still, his people had turned out for him, and waving at them as he climbed out of the Rolls seemed both appropriate and inadequate at the same time. If Tony had had more than cursory training from the military medical staff, he’d broadcast gratitude and other positive emotions in acknowledgment.

But he hadn’t, so he settled for smiling and waving, even as Obadiah Stane grandstanded a bit. That was Obie, though, and his gregarious nature made him the perfect public face for Stark Industries while Tony worked outside the public eye creating and fabricating the weapons and armor SI was famous for.

Then Obie was wrapping him in a bear hug, and Tony felt…nothing.

Tony patted Obie’s back with his good hand even as he considered the options. His online status was, as far as he knew, still unknown, so Obie wasn’t taking defensive measures as a result of that status.

Which left two possibilities: either Obie was psionically null, or he was wearing a damper.

There was nothing wrong with either of those things, of course, but Tony’s instincts screamed for him to find out which one it was, so he knew how to place Obie in his pride.

But he’d called a press conference, and the reporters were waiting for him. Tony promised his inner Guide that he’d find out Obie’s status as soon as he could, and then followed Obie inside.

Obie did what Obie did best - playing to the gathered reporters, moving past them with practiced ease to take his place behind the podium at the front of the room.

Tony sat down in front of the podium, leaned back against it, and reached into his pocket for the last cheeseburger.

“Tony?” Obie’s voice came from above him.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like standing right now,” Tony said as he unwrapped the cheeseburger. “Would it be all right if everyone sat down? Be a little less formal?”

The reporters seemed startled, but as he took a bite and chewed, they slowly sank to the floor, sitting or kneeling as they preferred or their clothing allowed. Obie sank down beside him looking concerned.

“Good to see you,” Tony said, and Obie’s expression cleared a little.

“Good to see you, too, Tony.”

Tony finished the last of the final cheeseburger, tucked the wrapper into his pocket, and wiped his hands and lips with his handkerchief, using the moment to gather his thoughts. Or, well, he’d been thinking those thoughts since that first horrified glimpse of his own weapons being used against him. Now, he just needed to find the right words to express them.

“When Dad started this company,” Tony began, “the world was different. Nostalgia makes us think it was a better world than the one we’ve got now, but I’m not sure that’s true. I mean, when Dad started the company, we barely had antibiotics, and I for one don’t want to go back to a time without those.”

Laughter rippled through the gathered reporters, and Tony smiled in return before continuing.

“And, of course, we were just heading into the Second World War - the one that followed the War to End All Wars, which was hilariously optimistic, by the way. Humans have been at war since there were humans, and will be as long as there are humans. This century has seen fewer wars than the others, but fewer is not none.”

“That’s depressing as hell.”

Tony didn’t even try to figure out who’d spoken. Instead, he just grinned at the reporters. “It’s realistic. Because humans don’t change. We’re still fundamentally hardwired the way we’ve always been and always will be.” He waved his good hand. “Sorry, tangent. The point is, while I was over there, I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them.”

He let his gaze roam over the seated reporters, felt their uneasiness at his words. “I saw that, and I don’t know how it happened. I mean, I certainly didn’t sell my weapons to terrorists.”

He was oddly relieved that everyone in the room appeared to accept that as gospel truth. God knew, he’d been raked over the coals in the press more than once since he’d taken over SI. Then again, he’d never been missing, held captive and possibly presumed dead, for three months before.

“So.” Tony rose to his feet, the move calculated to emphasize his next words. “Effective immediately, I am pausing all new development at SI. We will honor all existing contracts, but no new contracts will be entertained until a full audit of SI’s contracts, inventory, and deliveries is completed.”

That provoked a sense of consternation amongst some of the reporters - and, also…Rhodey? But that couldn’t be right, could it? - but mostly, Tony sensed relief. Which reminded him that he should make an appointment with the local Protectorate offices for more in-depth training.

“Does that mean you’re never building weapons again?” a man shouted from the crowd.

Before Tony could answer, Obie was hustling him away.

Tony let himself be led, if only to get to some psychic peace and quiet.

He had a lot of work to do and, most likely, very little time to do it.

*BREAK*

Tony didn’t override Pepper when she asked Happy to take him home. As they approached, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if his guide instincts had led him to the little island off the coast because it provided a bit of a psionic buffer from the mass of humanity that was Southern California.

That was a question for another day. For now, he asked Pepper and Happy to join him in the living room.

While Tony slipped his suit coat off and loosened his tie, Happy detoured to the kitchen, returning shortly with three glasses of water carried carefully in his hands.

“What’s up, boss?” Happy asked as he distributed the glasses.

Tony gestured for his companions to make themselves comfortable and took a seat himself and decided bluntness would serve him best at the moment.

“I came online during my escape.”

Surprise, followed quickly by acceptance and…relief?

Tony wasn’t sure which of the two of them were relieved or why, but he was relieved that both of them felt true.

“Sentinel or guide?” Happy asked.

“Guide.”

Pepper opened her planner - paper, much to Tony’s amusement - and pulled a fountain pen from the elastic loop at the edge. “I’ll make an appointment with the local center.”

“Put it off as long as you can.” Tony took a sip of water and continued, “Right now, outside of the military personnel who got me out of Afghanistan and the medical staff, only the two of you know, and that’s an advantage I don’t want to give up until I know how my weapons ended up in terrorist hands.”

“Are you coping okay, boss?”

Tony tried to smile at Happy, but wasn’t sure how successful he was. “Yeah, I’m fine. A sentinel came online with me, and he helped me get stabilized, both medically and psionically.”

Happy frowned. “So where is he? Your sentinel should be with you.”

“He’s not mine.” Tony heard the regret in his tone as well as the words. He liked Eddie Diaz and figured they could’ve made a decent partnership if they tried - if they’d been psionically compatible, which they weren’t.

Pepper looked up, surprise clear on her face and in her emotional tone. “But-”

“I know.” Tony held up a hand. “But we’re not compatible enough to be a pair. For now, get the audit started. I want it fast and good, and I don’t care how much it costs.”

“Of course,” Pepper murmured. “Also, at the press conference, an Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division said he needs to debrief you about the circumstances of your escape.” She frowned a little. “I told him we’d already been approached by the FBI, CIA, DOD - but he just said they have a different focus.”

“Find out what it is,” Tony said with a frown of his own. Something about the agency’s name sent unease skittering across his psionic senses. It was familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t place it. “I’m willing to talk to anyone with a legitimate need to know, but this Strategic whatever has no need to know until I’m convinced otherwise.”

Chapter Text

August 7, 2015

Eddie sat in the dining room at his home in El Paso, late morning light bathing the room in a soft glow, coffee going cold in a mug emblazoned with the slogan An Army of One on the table before him, wondering just how his life had imploded so completely.

Three weeks after Eddie left Tony Stark behind in the medical center at FOB Patton, while on a routine mission to retrieve and transport a wounded soldier back to base, Eddie’s helo was shot down.

He’d been functioning well enough after coming online, his senses stable, that he’d been returned to active duty immediately instead of being reassigned for training in the use of his gifts. That meant he’d heard the incoming missile before impact, but hadn’t been able to isolate its trajectory soon enough to advise the pilot how to evade.

The crash following the missile impact knocked him out briefly.

When he regained consciousness, the Sentinel in him had taken over and taken care of business, resulting in the deaths of the entire attacking insurgent group at the cost to himself of three slugs, a handful of broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. But he got his team out alive - except for Greggs, the wounded soldier they’d been assigned to transport, who’d succumbed to injuries exacerbated by the crash - and that was what mattered.

After some debate, the Army thanked him for his service with a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, an honorable medical discharge, and a mildly uncomfortable flight back to Fort Bliss. Eddie wasn’t sure whether his injuries or his sentinel status accounted for the mostly comfortable flight, but he wouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth.

It was everything else he was having trouble with. He’d planned to make a career in the Army, to serve his twenty and maybe more. One terrorist missile - he’d asked, but no one had told him which particular group was responsible - took the life he’d chosen away from him.

Finding a new career wouldn’t normally be cause for his current state of despair. But…

Having no choice but to find a new career when his wife had walked out of his life - worse, their son’s life - without a word?

Realizing that the person he’d thought he could count on at least to help care for Christopher while he recovered and settled in to that new career - as well as coming to terms with what coming online meant for him personally and them as a family - had found the whole thing just too much work and bailed after he’d been home only three days?

That was cause for despair.

Eddie had woken up that morning alone in bed, the sheets beside him cool. That wasn’t surprising, thanks both to his sleep schedule still being half a day off what he’d been accustomed to and also still recovering from his injuries.

He’d stretched his senses, but there was no indication Shannon was in the house at 4:30 a.m.

A slow, stumbling search of the house told him the pantry and freezer were full, so she hadn’t gone shopping. Not that many stores in El Paso were open at zero dark thirty.

Christopher was still sleeping, so she hadn’t taken him somewhere. Not that there was anywhere to take him at zero dark thirty.

And there was an iPad on the dining room table. A note stuck to it read, in Shannon’s curly handwriting, The password is his birthday.

That had clinched it. Shannon was gone. She’d left him, still recovering from injuries and surgeries, and with senses that still occasionally went haywire, to care for a disabled son alone when he could barely care for himself.

The thought of his son sharpened his senses, and Eddie relaxed when he heard the soft click of Legos snapping together. At four years old, Christopher wasn’t very good at making anything beyond a kaleidoscopic patchwork of plastic blocks arranged somewhat like a wall, but Eddie figured more complex builds would come in time. Considering the number of sets already stacked in Christopher’s room, he probably should start a savings account just for Legos.

The sound of Legos snapping together, backgrounded by Christopher’s breathing and the steady thump thump thump of his heart allowed Eddie to relax, at least a little.

So many things still needed to be addressed, but he was here, and Christopher was here, and in those conditions, Eddie could handle everything else.

As soon as he figured out where to start.

If he were in Los Angeles, he’d start with his Tía Pepa, who was a paralegal. Even if she didn’t have experience with the VA and the DOD, she’d know how to find someone who did.

Here in El Paso, though, his options were more limited. His mother’s family, smaller than the Diaz clan, tended more toward medicine and finance than law. Finance…maybe one of his maternal cousins could help him set up that Lego account and manage his severance pay?

Eddie put that thought aside quickly. Even approaching someone on his mother’s side of the family ran the risk of the request getting back to his parents, and he’d never let his parents know he needed help if he could possibly avoid it, not given how they’d treated Shannon and how they’d belittled his choice to serve.

They’d better not brag about that Silver Star.

Eddie jerked up at that thought. Not that he had it; he was quite accustomed to thinking sarcastic thoughts about his parents. No, what surprised him about this thought was that it sounded a lot like Tony Stark.

Well, at least his inner voice couldn’t legitimately tell him to behave.

He wasn’t certain that was a good thing.

Eddie shook his head in a futile attempt to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. He’d be better off focusing on his sisters, one of whom might actually help him without being too judgmental about it. And without telling their parents.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his musing. He wasn’t certain whether he appreciated the interruption or not.

“Race you, Daddy!” Christopher called.

“No fair,” Eddie called back. “You’re closer, and you have two crutches while I’ve just got one cane!”

“Excuses are for losers!”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh and shoved himself to his feet, grimacing at the pain shooting up his right leg. A sudden movement after sitting in mostly the same position for the last half-hour was not pleasant.

He muted the pain and grabbed his cane.

A second knock, louder and more peremptory than the first, echoed before he’d cleared the dining room.

By the time he made it to the living room, where the front door stood at almost the exact center of the front wall of the house, Christopher had the door open.

From this angle, all Eddie could see was the open door and his son standing there with one hand on the knob and his head tilted back so he could look up at their visitor - no, visitors, Eddie corrected himself as he focused on his hearing.

Beneath the steady thumping of four heartbeats - Christopher’s plus three visitors - he heard a very faint electronic hum. Eddie frowned as he limped toward the door.

The hum teased at his awareness, as though he should recognize it, but he’d remember if he’d ever heard that specific sound before.

“Mijo?” Eddie asked. “Who is it?”

Christopher turned his head - only his head, which Eddie thought was somehow significant - to face him, and at first all Eddie could think was wide eyes.

“Christopher?” he asked.

“Daddy,” Christopher said as seriously as a four-year-old could. “Why is Iron Man here?”

“Quien? Who’s Iron Man?” Eddie hurried forward as quickly as his injured leg would let him.

“It was all over the news,” Christopher said. “Mommy watched it.”

Which didn’t really answer the question, but to a four-year-old, the answer probably made total sense. Eddie tried not to smile as he came to stand beside his son.

His smile fell into confusion when he saw the person standing on his front stoop.

What the hell was Tony Stark doing in El Paso, Texas?

“So.” Stark pulled a pair of blue-tinted aviator sunglasses down his nose. “Mind telling me why I got a notification that my sentinel was being transferred back to the States?”

Eddie felt heat creep across his cheeks, but manners compelled him to step back and invite the man and his two companions - a petite red-haired woman in a crisp pantsuit and a heavyset dark-haired man in an equally dark suit - inside.

“Coffee?” Eddie asked. “Or tea?”

Stark’s empathic senses washed over him. Eddie felt that he ought to glare at Stark, but figured the effort would be wasted.

“You’re in no shape to make either,” Stark said bluntly. “Happy?”

“Are you territorial about your kitchen?” the big man - Happy, presumably - asked.

“Daddy can’t cook,” Christopher said solemnly.

Stark cracked up. The woman with him looked like she was trying not to do the same.

Happy just grinned. “I can’t, either. But I make a mean cup of coffee.”

“I can’t cook yet, mijito,” Eddie corrected. “But I’ll learn. And no,” he added to Happy. “No territoriality about the kitchen.”

Nor, really, anywhere else. Shock reverberated through him at that realization. He needed to think about it, maybe talk it over with his abuela or someone else he could trust, but his priority right now was healing so that he could take care of Christoper.

“What should I make for your son, sentinel?” Happy asked.

“Leche o jugo?” Eddie asked.

“Leche, por favor. Y galletas?”

Eddie turned a stern look on his son. “You do not need cookies right now. He wants milk,” he added to Happy.

“On it,” Happy replied.

“Please.” Eddie gestured the other two toward the dining table.

“That’s a hellacious amount of paperwork,” Stark observed. “I didn’t have nearly as much when I came online.”

“You’re not military,” Eddie shot back, then blew out a breath. “But most of that is separation paperwork, not related to my onlining.”

Stark stared at him as he sat down, tucking his sunglasses into the collar of his AC/DC T-shirt as he did. “They gave you a Silver Star, and they let you go?”

“They didn’t want to,” Eddie said. “But my injuries qualified me for a medical discharge. I made some noises about my guide not being military - as evidenced by my not having a single match in the DOD system - as a reason. I think they were still going to fight me, until Bender - he was one of the ones on the mission where we met - mentioned, oh so casually, that I’d come online the same time as you. In my CO’s hearing.”

“And they assumed you’re his sentinel,” the woman said. “You didn’t correct them?”

“It was never my job to correct my superiors outside of my immediate specialty,” Eddie said as seriously as he could muster, offering a hand to steady Christopher as his son clambered onto the chair beside him. “And since we were not under fire with an emergent medical situation…”

The woman laughed, and Eddie found himself grinning in response. His senses didn’t reveal anything unusual about her, though he didn’t believe she was wearing a scent masker or any other so-called countermeasures.

“And that’s why you got the notification that I was being transferred stateside,” Eddie concluded.

“Devious,” Stark said. He grinned. “I approve.”

Any reply Eddie might have made was interrupted by the arrival of Happy with four mugs, two held by their handles in each hand.

“Black.” Happy put one down in front of Stark. “Milk, no sugar,” went to the woman - whose name, Eddie realized, he still didn’t know. “Also black,” went at an empty space, and then Happy met Eddie’s gaze. “How do you take it?”

“Black is fine,” Eddie answered, and Happy put the fourth cup in front of him before disappearing back to the kitchen and returning with a small glass of milk which he placed in front of Christopher.

“Thank you,” Christopher said, and Eddie echoed it before taking a sip.

He set his cup down. “I know you didn’t come here just because you got that notification - a call would’ve done. So, what’s up?”

“Probably nothing you should talk about right now,” the woman said, her tone gentle but the words sharp. When Eddie looked up at her, she merely inclined her head briefly toward Christopher.

Christopher looked up at Eddie. “Do I need to put on my headphones?”

Stark cleared his throat. “That might not be enough.”

Eddie frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because there’s no need to broadcast emotions all over him.”

Eddie scowled. “I can shield-”

Stark cut him off. “Not very well you can’t. Not right now, anyway. I can feel your pain.”

“I’ve dialed that down.”

Stark just raised an eyebrow at him. “And when I’m in pain, I get cranky. Crankier,” he added before the redhead could do more than open her mouth to speak. “And cranky plus other emotions? Yeah, pretty sure neither of us will shield as well as we should. And he’s latent.”

The last three words were barely audible over the hum from Stark’s chest, but Eddie only nodded. Since he’d been back, his senses had teased him with an extra awareness of Christopher. He’d thought that meant Christopher was latent, so Stark’s words were only a confirmation.

But, since Stark had brought up the problem, Eddie figured he should solve it. “What do you suggest instead?”

“I could take him to the zoo,” Happy offered.

“Oh, can I go, Daddy?” Christopher bounced a little in his seat. “The deer have had their babies!”

Eddie could only blink, surprised that his son knew anything about baby animals, but before he could respond, the woman straightened.

“The rental car doesn’t have a car seat,” she said.

“You can take my truck,” Eddie said. “Keys are on a hook beside the door.”

“Yes!” Christopher shouted.

“Go to the bathroom before you go,” Eddie murmured. Christopher squirmed down from the chair and hurried down the hallway as quickly as he could with his crutches.

Eddie turned to Stark. “I have to offer to pay for this.”

Stark waved it away. “I’m the one causing the inconvenience. It’s on me.”

Ten minutes later, after Eddie gave Happy brief instructions while Christopher was in the bathroom, and with Happy’s promise to bring food back with them, Happy and Christopher were gone. Eddie supposed he should feel more wary about letting his son go off with a stranger, and he probably would if the stranger were anyone other than Tony Stark’s bodyguard-cum-friend.

Happy had refilled their mugs before he left, and now Eddie turned to the redhead.

“Apparently I forgot my manners. Eddie Diaz.” He offered his hand, figuring she already knew that, but it would prompt her to introduce herself.

She took his hand in a firm, brief grip. “Pepper Potts. I’m Tony’s assistant.”

“Mucho gusto.” He smiled and nodded to her before turning back to Tony.

“So - you’re here because…?” he trailed off.

“Two reasons.” Stark sat forward. “First, I’ve been having dreams. Blue dreams.”

“And?” Eddie asked. “Those are pretty common for….” He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence or if he’d already said too much.

Stark waved a hand. “Pep knows I’m a guide.”

“Not my place to assume.”

“Happy knows, also,” Potts murmured. Then, “If you don’t mind, perhaps I can help organize your paperwork while you two talk?”

Grateful for any assistance with the plethora of forms, Eddie waved her to it and focused on Stark. “What about these dreams?”

“I don’t know.” Stark lunged to his feet and paced the dining room that suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was. “I’m on the psionic plane, and I’m searching for something.”

Which wasn’t much to go on at all. Maybe Eddie could narrow it down a little. “Is your spirit guide with you?”

“Not mine,” Stark said. “You know mine’s a raven. But I’m seeing a bald eagle.”

“Is it leading you somewhere?” Eddie asked.

Stark paused at the far end of the dining room, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe? It doesn’t feel that deliberate. It feels like I have to…not lead, but certainly not follow. There’s something I have to find, only I don’t know what and I don’t know how.”

“Okay.” Eddie took a sip of coffee, then said, “Why are you telling me?”

“Because Blair said I need a sentinel I can trust to help me look. That’s you.”

Eddie blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Why wouldn’t it be you? Why would it be anyone but you?”

Eddie’s cheeks warmed at the trust Stark projected. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out steady when he answered, “Because you have a sentinel out there that’s much better for you than I am, for one - more compatible. And, right now, I can’t do much. I have months of PT ahead of me.”

Stark came back to the table and knocked his coffee back like it was a whiskey shot. “I don’t know that you have to do anything. It might be enough if you’re just…there. Blair wasn’t clear on that.”

That was the second time he’d mentioned Blair, and Eddie only now realized what he meant. “You talked to Blair Sandburg about it?”

“Who else?” Stark asked. “I mean, the local Alphas are okay, but I don’t know them. I’m sure as hell not going to trust them with my personal stuff.”

“But you do know Sandburg?”

“More than I know the Alphas. I consulted with Jim Ellison about making our equipment as Protector-friendly as possible. Of course Blair was there for those discussions.”

“Oh.” Of course Eddie knew Stark was wealthy and had connections everywhere, but it was an intellectual kind of knowing. Now, presented with the reality that Stark could just call up the Alpha Prime pair when he wanted to, Eddie understood it at a deeper level.

“So?” Stark asked. “You willing to help?”

There was only one answer he could make. “Of course, if we can work it around my PT…and Christopher’s.”

“Can’t his mother help with that?” Stark asked, then winced. “Sorry, rude.”

“But fair,” Eddie said, and had a brief debate with himself. Christopher won, of course. “And until this morning, I would’ve said yes.”

“What happened this morning?”

“This morning-” Eddie took a breath, let it out slowly, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack as he finished the sentence “-I woke up and she was gone. Just gone. No letter, no text, no call - just a sticky note telling me the password to the tablet with Christopher’s medical records.”

The slap of paper against wood had him turning to face Potts, whose expression had turned murderous and who had obviously just smacked a small subset of the stack of paperwork on the table.

She didn’t say anything though, so he turned back to Stark - who looked equally murderous as he whipped out his cell phone. “Full name, date of birth, any idea where she might’ve gone?”

“…What?” Eddie stared at the other man.

“Social Security number if you know it,” Stark added, still scowling, his fingers poised over the phone.

Eddie was completely certain he shouldn’t give out that information - well, other than her name, because their marriage certificate was part of the public record - but before he could say as much, his doorbell rang.

He cursed himself for not paying attention as he fumbled for his cane. Otherwise, he’d have heard the vehicle arrive, the driver approach, and not been surprised by the doorbell.

“Let me?” Potts offered.

After a moment, Eddie nodded. It was too soon for Happy to be back with Christopher, and he wasn’t expecting family, so it was probably a door-to-door salesman or someone else he really didn’t want to deal with.

With a brief smile, Potts rose and headed for the door.

“Spill,” Stark ordered.

Eddie looked at him dubiously. “What are you going to do if I do?”

“Ruin her life.”

Eddie blew out a breath. “Look, she’s…gone. And she left in the worst way I can imagine her leaving. But that doesn’t mean I want her life ruined.”

Stark looked supremely skeptical at that, but all he said was, “What do you want, then?”

“Eddie?” Potts called - though not overly loudly - from where she stood at the door. “It’s a delivery, and they need your signature. Is it okay if the delivery person comes inside where he can see you, and I’ll bring you the tablet to sign?”

The sentinel in him relaxed, which was surprising because he hadn’t realized he’d tensed.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Stark shifted in his chair so that his face couldn’t be seen from the door, but it would be obvious to the delivery person that Eddie and Potts weren’t alone together.

Eddie confirmed his identity verbally to the delivery person - a young man about college age, Eddie estimated - and signed the tablet. Potts completed the exchange with polite efficiency and, a moment later, brought Eddie a manila envelope.

Eddie could feel his companions’ curiosity, even though Potts had returned to the stack of paperwork and Stark appeared to be focused on his phone, as he ran a finger under the envelope flap and tore it open.

Inside he found a letter from a law firm he’d never heard of - which would be pretty much all of them, since he’d never had need of one before - explaining that Shannon wanted a divorce and outlining her minimum terms.

Both Stark and Potts were careful not to crowd him, to keep their expressions more concerned than curious, though their scents revealed…well, he wasn’t sure what, exactly their scents revealed. He’d had basic training in controlling his senses before the Army discharged him, but no training in differentiating or identifying anything he smelled or tasted.

If he were in their place, though, he’d be burning with curiosity and concern. He was tempted to catalog that scent under those categories, but shoved the urge away for now. For now, he only needed to decide what to do, what to say, in this moment.

The decision was shockingly easy.

“Shannon wants a divorce.”

Chapter Text

“Shannon wants a divorce.”

Not for the first time, Tony was thankful that Blair Sandburg had been receptive to training him in exchange for a sizeable donation to some charity that Tony had already forgotten the name of. Without that training, Tony’s anger would be bleeding all over Eddie’s house - and, hell, probably the whole block.

From what Tony knew of Eddie Diaz, which wasn’t much but still more than expected thanks to his guide gifts, the man wouldn’t have married a woman he believed to be a harpy. Therefore, Shannon Diaz must have been - and might still be - a basically good person. But somewhere between a disabled child and an injured, newly online husband, something had clearly changed for her, and she felt she couldn’t stay married any longer.

There was nothing wrong with that, per se; not everyone could handle all of those challenges at once. But how Shannon chose to leave? There was a lot wrong with that, not least of which was her abandoning her son without so much as a goodbye kiss, and her callousness sparked the white-hot anger contained only by Blair’s training.

Thankfully, Tony had learned a long time ago how to channel his anger into productivity. In this case, that meant getting Eddie the best lawyer he could find to handle the divorce.

He hadn’t expected Eddie to object. In hindsight, that’d been very short-sighted of him.

“We keep an entire battalion of lawyers on retainer,” Tony pointed out. “Everything from patent law to family law. Why not take advantage of them?”

“Because it’d be taking advantage of you,” Eddie said, “and that’s not right.”

“You saved my life, sentinel,” Tony snapped. “I can never balance the books on that, but you can be damned sure I’ll try for the rest of my life.”

Eddie’s surprise washed across his perceptions, and Tony hoped that, just maybe, he’d gotten through to the other man.

Pepper cleared her throat quietly, drawing both Tony’s and Eddie’s attention. “In most circumstances, almost any attorney you found would be enough. But you’re a decorated veteran, an online sentinel, and father to a disabled latent child. There are at least three sets of laws that may apply to you - the UCMJ, the Protectorate Protocols, and Texas family law. You need someone skilled in all three. With respect, Stark Industries has two of the three, and contracting with a Texas family lawyer won’t be difficult at all.”

And this was why Tony had hired Pepper in the first place, let alone why she’d become effectively his right hand. Though she wasn’t sensitive at all, she had a way of reading people and adapting to whatever style they needed.

As she’d calmly laid out the facts of Eddie Diaz’s situation, Tony felt the other man’s stubbornness - and, yes pride - fading into resolve tinged with a bit of shame.

By the time she’d finished, Eddie’s expression had softened, and he looked up at Tony. “I’m sorry. I’d say pain was making me act badly, but between both of us and a few Tylenol, it’s pretty much under control at this point. So I can only apologize and accept the referral to a lawyer.”

“And a position with SI as a security consultant,” Tony said, “while we follow that spirit animal on the psionic plane.”

“…What?” At least Eddie wasn’t gaping like an idiot.

“I’m asking you to upend your life-”

Eddie snorted. “Like it wasn’t already?”

“I didn’t know that,” Tony said reasonably. “The point is, I’m asking you to give up whatever life you’ve got going here to help me out. It’s only fair that you be compensated for it. Security consultant fits with your military background.”

Eddie looked torn for a moment before he nodded. “And the position.”

“Excellent,” Pepper said. She pulled out a sheaf of paper from the messenger bag/purse she’d carried and put them and a pen in front of Eddie. “You might as well get started on your intake paperwork.”

Eddie looked up at her, then at Tony, who chuckled. “If I didn’t know differently, I’d swear her middle name is Efficiency.”

Eddie shook his head and focused on the stack Pepper had given him, and Pepper returned to the stack she’d been sorting, which left Tony with nothing to do but catch up on those emails that actually got to him after thorough vetting by Pepper and JARVIS.

Tony hadn’t been this idle in a long time. Even in the cave in Afghanistan, he’d been working most of the time. He’d had motivation, after all.

True, he wasn’t completely idle right now, either. Responding to emails and messages took focus and energy, even if different than the focus and energy he brought to inventing and tinkering - which activities he hadn’t been moved to do for…a while.

In the aftermath of the audit of Stark Industries, the discovery of Obie’s treachery, and the final battle of Iron Man vs. Iron Monger, Tony had felt…empty. Betrayed, certainly, and grieving, but mostly just empty.

His usual coping mechanism of escaping into designing and tinkering didn’t seem to be working this time, and he could only suppose that was because it was his own inventions and weapons that were at the core of the situation. Then the dreams had started, and those had ultimately led him here to Eddie Diaz.

He was looking forward to wherever the dreams would lead him next.

Half an hour later, emails sorted, he shoved his phone into his pocket and rose. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on the left.”

Tony followed Eddie’s succinct directions and shortly was unzipping his trousers to begin relieving himself of the coffee he’d drunk earlier.

He’d barely begun when a new arrival pinged at his awareness. The newcomer was…prickly, for lack of a better word. She - and the presence definitely felt female - wasn’t overtly projecting her presence psionically, but even the passive bleed felt like sandpaper to his empathic senses.

The flash of irritation from Eddie confirmed his own feelings. Quickly, he finished what he was doing, flushed, and washed his hands before opening the bathroom door to start back to the dining room. He didn’t know if Eddie needed support, but he’d be ready if so.

“Where’s Christopher?”

The speaker was a woman possibly a few years older than Tony himself, dressed better than most of the people he’d seen in Texas, with a scowl on her face.

“Why do you want to know?” Eddie countered. He’d straightened in his seat and turned slightly toward her, the stance not overtly aggressive, but certainly not one that suggested he was comfortable with the woman.

“I’m taking him home with me,” the woman said. “Your wife’s gone, and you can’t take care of him, so we will.”

Anger burst through Eddie’s shielding, but he kept his tone even when he said, “What do you mean, my wife’s gone?”

“She left you! Surely you’ve noticed,” the woman snapped.

“I haven’t told anyone in the family,” Eddie said, his tone low and dangerous. “So how do you know?”

The woman waved it away. “She called me when she landed in California. Now, where’s Christopher? In his room?”

Internally, Tony grinned. He now had two pieces of information that he could use to find Shannon Diaz and make her regret her most recent life choices.

The woman strode across the room without waiting for an answer, stopping just short of plowing into Tony where he stood at the mouth of the hallway.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded, and Tony blinked. It wasn’t often that he wasn’t recognized.

Eddie spoke before Tony could answer. “Christopher’s not here.”

The woman whirled to face Eddie again. “Where is he? Did you let him go outside by himself? Just how irresponsible can you be?”

“Mother.”

Eddie’s tone was still mild, but the word cracked through the house like a whip, and Tony felt her emotional flinch.

“Christopher isn’t here,” Eddie repeated. “He’s with someone I trust.”

“Then I’m taking him when he gets home,” Eddie’s mother - Helena, if Tony remembered the file correctly - said. “I’ll pack his things.”

“You. Will. Not.”

Even Tony flinched at the steel in Eddie’s tone this time.

“Well, you can’t take care of him,” Helena Diaz sniffed. “And these two…friends of yours don’t look like they’d be any better at it than you. Of course I’m taking him.”

As entertaining as this might be under other circumstances, Tony needed to head off the explosion that Eddie was keeping back by sheer force of will.

“If you even try to take Christopher Diaz anywhere without his father’s permission,” he said, “you’ll be arrested.”

“As if anyone would doubt he’d be better off with us.” Helena scoffed and turned back to Tony, her intent to push past him clear in her expression and her emotional tone. He shifted his stance so that he fully blocked the hallway.

Tony blew out a breath as, over her shoulder, he saw Pepper with her phone out and aimed at them, presumably recording the encounter.

“Are you aware that your son came online?” Tony asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Eddie.” Tony flicked a glance Eddie’s way, saw that the sentinel had slipped to the edge of his seat and looked like a snake ready to strike. “How much effort is it taking for you to stay in your chair right now?”

Eddie’s gaze never left his mother. “It wouldn’t take much more to get me out of it.”

Tony winced at the flat tone. He’d never heard it before, but Blair had described the lack of emotional affect sentinels often displayed before snapping into a combat drive. Eddie really was on the brink.

They weren’t compatible, much less bonded, but still Tony reached out to Eddie psionically to try to soothe the sentinel’s instincts. Touching Eddie would be better, but Tony figured if he moved, Helena would be down the hall, and that would be enough to send Eddie over the edge. Reaching out psionically was the only choice he could make in the moment, and he hoped it was enough.

“What that means, Mrs. Diaz,” Tony said while he kept half his attention on Eddie’s emotional landscape, “is that if you keep presenting yourself as a threat to Sentinel Diaz’s son, his imperative to protect the tribe - especially the most vulnerable members of the tribe - will take over, and he will act to protect his son.”

Helena scoffed. “I’m not a threat! I only want what’s best for Christopher!”

Tony didn’t even try not to snort. “Like hell you do. If you did,” he continued over her spluttering protest, “you’d be asking his father how you could help, not threatening to kidnap a child. It’s in your own best interest to leave now and not come back until or unless Eddie invites you back.”

“You don’t get to order me around,” she snapped.

“But I do.” Eddie had risen from his chair and stood straight and tall. Tony didn’t want to think what was costing him to do so. “Understand this, Mother - I’m a sentinel, and you are very close to being a threat to my son, and me. Leave before you cross that line, because if you do, I’ll kill you.”

Helena Diaz stared at her son. “But - I’m your mother!”

“Get out. Do not come back until or unless I invite you.” Eddie’s tone was still flat, and it made his words all the more chilling.

Still, she hesitated, and Tony gestured her toward the door, careful not to touch her. “The longer you stay, the bigger a threat you become.”

Finally, she seemed to realize that her life could actually be in danger and she started for the door, pointing angrily at Eddie as she did. “This isn’t over!”

Eddie snarled and lunged forward, only to stumble on his bad leg.

“Jesus, woman - do you want to die?” Tony bolted past her and clapped a hand around Eddie’s arm below the sleeve of the U.S. Army T-shirt he wore, physically steadying Eddie while sending as much calming energy to the other man as he could.

The door slammed, and Pepper lowered her phone, her features tight with anger.

“Thanks for recording that,” Eddie said, his tone still mostly flat. He’d straightened again, though he hadn’t shaken off Tony’s hand.

“Sit before you fall,” Tony told him as an engine started up outside. “And let me bring you the rest of the way back. Lock the door, Pep.”

Eddie didn’t move to sit down, his attention still focused on the door or, more likely, the sound of the engine getting further away. “She has a key.”

“Not for long,” Pepper murmured as she moved toward the door and locked it. “I’ll call a locksmith.”

Now that the engine noise had passed beyond Tony’s hearing, he tried again to guide Eddie to sit down. This time, he was successful, and he dropped to one knee beside the other man, cupping Eddie’s face in his hands.

“Sentinel. Come back to me - the threat is over.” Tony repeated those words as he sought Eddie’s presence through the psionic plane.

The process would have been almost insultingly easy if they’d been bonded, or even somewhat more psionically compatible, but because they weren’t, it was nearly ten minutes before Eddie relaxed – which turned into a wince, and he rubbed his leg.

“Held it back too long,” Tony observed, not moving from where he crouched beside Eddie.

While most of Tony’s attention had been on Eddie, a part of him had remained aware of Pepper’s quiet voice as she spoke on the phone, though he had no idea what she’d said or whom she’d said it to. Confident that Pepper would tell him eventually, Tony stayed focused on Eddie.

Eddie sagged a little. “I - had to. She was a threat - my mother was a threat - and I had to be ready to deal with it.”

Eddie’s psionic profile had stabilized, so Tony straightened and took the chair next to him.

Eddie blew out a slow breath. “Thank you.”

“I’m surprised your wolf didn’t show up,” Tony said. “And kind of disappointed, too. I mean, her reaction would’ve been priceless.”

That startled a laugh from Eddie and drew a frown from Pepper. Tony would put up with the frown since he had the laugh.

“He’s with Christopher,” Eddie said. “Since we got back, he’s always with Christopher when I’m not.”

Pepper appeared with glasses of ice water for each of them. “The locksmith’s on his way, and our team’s already contacted a local lawyer for both the divorce and a restraining order against your mother.”

Eddie paused with his hand halfway to his glass. “Are you managing me?”

Her immediate, “No,” had Tony raising an eyebrow just as high as Eddie did.

“I’m managing Tony,” Pepper said, “which at the moment means that I get everything ready for you to help him find whatever he’s looking for.”

“Not a what,” Eddie said abruptly.

Pepper’s eyebrows came together in puzzlement. “Sorry?”

“He’s not looking for a what,” Eddie said and turned to focus on Tony. “You’re looking for a who.”

And Tony Stark, the genius, felt like an idiot for not realizing who he was looking for before now.

“My sentinel.”

Chapter Text

September 2, 2015

Eddie only thought his life had been turned upside down back when Shannon left him in El Paso.

Now, three weeks later, Tony Stark had found his sentinel, who - holy crap! - turned out to be Steve Rogers, also called Captain America. Yes, that Captain America, the one who’d been lost, presumed dead, near the end of the Second World War.

In fact, Rogers had guided a Nazi warplane into a suicide dive so that it couldn’t complete its mission to annihilate many of the world’s major cities. Somehow, probably something to do with his unique combination of Protector genetics and Dr. Erskine’s super-soldier formula, Rogers had survived that crash and fallen into cryogenic suspended animation.

Tony - and Eddie finally felt comfortable addressing the other man by his first name - had mounted a rescue effort that culminated in Rogers being brought to the Stark mansion in New York with Eddie assigned to monitor his recovery.

Tony had retreated to California, saying that Rogers needed to recover and acclimate to the 21^st century before they could even begin to address whatever might be between them. Eddie wasn’t certain he agreed with Tony’s reasoning, but it was Tony’s decision, and Eddie would support him the best he could.

The doctors Tony hired were confident that Rogers would wake up naturally, even if they couldn’t make any guesses as to when that might happen. As a result, this morning Eddie was walking on a treadmill installed in one corner of the master bedroom while Rogers remained unconscious in the bed.

Tony had modified the treadmill so that its motor didn’t annoy Eddie’s hearing, so focusing past it to monitor Rogers was no hardship.

He’d latched on to Rogers’ heartbeat and timed his steps to it as if it were a metronome. The pace was probably too slow to be actually called walking, but Eddie could maintain it without overly exerting his still-healing injuries.

So when Rogers’ heartbeat sped up a little, Eddie noticed immediately.

He kept the same pace he’d had while he focused on Rogers. The man’s breathing had changed, too, and Eddie supposed he was awake but feigning sleep while he tried to figure out what was going on. That was Eddie’s cue.

“Good morning, Sentinel Captain Rogers,” he said, keeping his voice quiet because he had no idea how Rogers’ senses would react. “I’m Sentinel Sergeant Edmundo Diaz. Please call me Eddie.”

After a long moment, Rogers spoke, his voice raspy. “You sound American.”

He turned his head to see that Rogers hadn’t sat up yet, though he’d turned his head to survey the equipment he was connected to. There wasn’t much, just a pulse oximeter and a nasal cannula for oxygen.

“Born and raised in El Paso, Texas, sir. There’s a remote control beside you that will let you raise the head of your bed, and a pitcher of water on the table beside you.”

Rogers picked up the remote, frowning a little as he studied it before pressing a button. The upper half of his bed started bending upward. “Are we in El Paso?”

“No, sir. We’re in East Hampton, New York.” Now that Rogers was awake, Eddie shifted to an even slower pace to cool down. Not that he’d raised much of a sweat, but good exercise principles remained the same.

The bed came to a stop, Rogers’ back almost entirely vertical, and Rogers frowned. “You’re hurt?”

“My helicopter was shot down and we came under fire afterward. I took three slugs, a handful of broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder,” Eddie told him as he slowed to a stop and stepped off the treadmill. “Everything’s been treated and I’m in rehab therapy.”

“And you’re still serving?” Rogers asked, then winced. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“But a legitimate question,” Eddie assured him. “I was medically discharged.”

Rogers looked around, taking in the damask brocade wallpaper and the few vintage dressers along one wall. “This doesn’t look like any hospital I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s Tony Stark’s private…well, he’d call it a house. The rest of us would call it a mansion. May I check you over?” Eddie asked. “I’m a medic.”

“You mean this-” Rogers held up the finger the pulse ox was clipped to “-isn’t doing that?”

“That’s a pulse oximeter,” Eddie said. “It measures the saturation of oxygen in your red blood cells and your pulse rate, but that’s all.”

Rogers nodded, so Eddie crossed the room and quickly ran through a check of Rogers’ vital signs, basic questions to rule out a concussion, and a cursory evaluation of his Protector senses. Eddie wasn’t surprised that Rogers appeared mostly back to normal.

“You said this is Tony Stark’s mansion,” Rogers murmured as Eddie returned the equipment he’d used to the dresser beside the bed. “How is he related to Howard Stark?”

There was no way to answer that question gently, so Eddie took the direct route. “Son and only child.”

He watched Rogers process that, and it was only a moment or two before Rogers looked up at him. “How long was I out?”

“Seventy years, give or take a few months. Today is September 2, 2015.”

“Seventy years,” Rogers repeated. Then he blew out a breath. “I suppose I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Part of my duties involves acclimating you to the present day.” Eddie pulled a chair from beside the dresser, bringing it close enough that he could talk comfortably with the other man before sinking into it and stretching out his injured leg.

“Why you?” Rogers asked, then winced again. “Sorry. I’m not usually this rude.”

“You’ve also not woken up from suspended animation in a new century before,” Eddie observed dryly. “It’s not surprising that you’re not quite yourself. To answer the question, Tony figured you’d be more comfortable with one of your own kind - a soldier and a sentinel - and I was already involved with searching for you, so it was easy to stick around.”

Rogers frowned again. “Searching for me?”

“They never stopped,” Eddie said. “Not Howard, and not Tony.”

“But - why?”

The good thing about two sentinels speaking with each other was that bluntness was expected, even appreciated - despite Rogers’ concerns about being rude. “From what Tony’s said, Howard wanted to bring your body home so you could be buried properly.”

Rogers smiled briefly. “That sounds like Howard. And…Tony?”

“There’s a story there.”

Rogers grinned. “I love stories.”

“Beginning at the beginning,” Eddie said, settling back in his chair and massaging his injured leg with one hand, “Tony was kidnapped in Afghanistan.”

Rogers frowned, a multitude of questions crossing his expression in a heartbeat. He settled on, “What was he doing in Afghanistan?”

“Demonstrating the Jericho, a weapon he designed and built for the US Army. After the demonstration, the convoy he was riding in was attacked, and he was taken prisoner. They wanted him to build them a Jericho, or the equivalent.”

Rogers was staring at him, wide-eyed. “He didn’t…did he?”

“No,” Eddie assured him. “Despite the torture - no. Instead, he built himself a suit of powered armor and destroyed the camp where they’d kept him.”

Rogers swallowed at the mention of torture, but clearly most of his attention was caught by, “Powered armor?”

“I’ll show you pictures later,” Eddie assured him, then frowned. “Well, not of that armor, specifically, because it shattered on impact when he crashed.”

“Crashed?” Rogers repeated. “Into what? Afghanistan’s a desert.”

“Powered armor, remember? He flew out of that camp, but because he’d built it from scraps and it wasn’t up to his usual standards, the engine died, and he crash landed.” Eddie paused ever so briefly. “And came online.”

Rogers frowned so deeply it was almost a scowl. “Came…online?”

Eddie grimaced. “Sorry - that’s the modern term. I think you would say awakened?”

Rogers’ eyes widened, then he winced. “That can’t have been easy.”

“I was searching for him,” Eddie continued. “His friend Colonel Rhodes with the US Air Force - a successor to the US Army Air Forces - had called in a ton of favors for one last search. Tony had been missing three months, and none of us thought we had a snowball’s chance in hell at finding him.”

“But you did find him,” Rogers murmured. “In the middle of a desert. How?”

“I came online when he did.”

“You’re his sentinel?” Rogers sounded almost disappointed. Eddie hid a smile and shook his head.

“We’re not compatible. It was a freak coincidence, like the guy who won the lottery three times, or the woman who survived the sinking of both the Titanic and the Britannic.”

“Okay,” Rogers said, his tone prompting Eddie to continue.

“Fast forward a couple of months,” Eddie said, “and I’ve been injured out, sent home, and my wife has left me. I’m sitting at my dining room table wondering what the hell happened to my life, when Tony shows up at my front door. He’d been having dreams of the psionic plane, where a spirit animal that wasn’t his was guiding him…somewhere.”

“Those dreams…” Rogers began, but trailed off. Eddie waited a moment, but when Rogers remained silent, he continued.

“Long story short, he needed a sentinel he trusted to keep him grounded while he searched.”

“So he came to you. And…found me?”

“Took a while,” Eddie said. “The psionic plane has no features to navigate by. But, after a few days of trial and error, we realized that when we transited, we faced the same direction on the psionic plane that we faced on the physical. So I faced north, transited to the psionic plane, and then we were able to follow the spirit animal in the physical world.”

Rogers closed his eyes and leant back against the mattress. “The spirit animal? What was it?”

“Bald eagle.”

Rogers nodded and blew out a breath, and in that moment, a bald eagle manifested as perched on the bedside railing. “That would be this one?”

Eddie kept his gaze on the eagle when he asked, “May I touch?”

Rogers nodded, but Eddie waited for the eagle to nod as well before he reached out and stroked a finger down its chest feathers, reading its psionic imprint as he did, confirming what he’d already known.

“Yes, this is the one.”

“Scipio.”

Eddie smiled. “Named for Scipio Africanus, the undefeated Roman general?”

Rogers opened his eyes, clearly surprised. “So few people get that.”

Eddie shrugged. “I enjoy reading military history.”

It was a long moment before Rogers spoke again. “Tony Stark is my guide, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.” Eddie chuckled. “But first things first. Are you hungry?”

“I could probably eat a whole cow.”

“Let’s start with something simpler.” Eddie pulled out his phone and sent a text to Happy, who’d volunteered to stay with them to help Eddie with Christopher and whatever else might be needed.

“What’s that?”

Eddie looked up to see Rogers staring at his phone.

“A cellular telephone.”

Rogers frowned. “I know what a telephone is, and what cellular means in biology, but those two terms together are nonsensical.”

“An overly-simplified explanation - because I don’t know enough about the tech to go into detail,” Eddie admitted, which earned a chuckle from Rogers, “is that it’s a communication device that lets you call someone or, like I just did, send a text message. It can do a lot of other things, too. Tony left one for you. It shouldn’t take long for you to get up to speed with it.”

Rogers nodded thoughtfully. “So, you sent a message…to whom?”

“Happy Hogan, and no, I don’t know what his real name is or how he got the nickname. He’s Tony’s driver and bodyguard, and he volunteered to stay here and help with you and my son.”

“Your son?”

And, of all the things they’d talked about so far, that was the thing that visibly startled Rogers the most.

Eddie smiled briefly. “Christopher. He’s four and has cerebral palsy.”

“Can’t his mother help with him?” Rogers asked, then blushed. “Dammit, that’s three very rude questions.”

Eddie laughed and, after a moment, Rogers joined him. “Let’s call them blunt, not rude, because each one was legitimate.”

Rogers nodded, though he still looked somewhat embarrassed.

Eddie swallowed past an unwelcome lump in his throat before continuing. “Three days after I got home, I woke up to find my wife gone. Later that day, I was served with divorce papers.”

Rogers stared at him. “Based on how you’re moving today, could you even walk at that point?”

Eddie rocked one hand in a so-so motion. “I had to use a cane with my good arm. I was still using a sling for my injured shoulder much of the day.”

“That’s-” Rogers blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t say what I’m thinking.”

“I’d like to hear it, sometime,” Eddie murmured. “But she’d had the burden of caring for Christopher while I was overseas. I think me coming home injured and needing even more care was just too much. We’re in the process of divorcing, and I have full custody of my son.”

“I’m sorry - that had to be rough.”

“It was, but I can’t change it,” Eddie said with a shrug. “What I can do is be the best father I can be - even if Tony’s gotten me a lawyer that may or may not be a honey badger in human form to handle the divorce. Shannon won’t know what hit her.”

“Well, she should have had the courage to talk to you about it,” Rogers said, then took a swallow of water before clearing his throat. “Is Tony here? Or Howard?”

Before Eddie could answer, Christopher called, “Daddy! Mr. Happy made me a tuna fish sandwich for lunch!”

Eddie turned his head toward the bedroom door, which swung open on near-silent hinges to reveal his son and, behind him, Happy Hogan carrying a tray with three plates arranged on it.

“I thought you don’t like tuna fish sandwiches,” Eddie said.

“I don’t like Mommy’s tuna fish sandwiches,” Christopher said with a huff. “Hers are all wet. Sandwiches shouldn’t be wet, Daddy.”

“Wet?” Eddie looked from his son to Happy.

“Too much mayo, if I understood right.” Happy waited for Christopher to clear the doorway before bringing the tray inside and setting it on the table beside Rogers.

Eddie shifted his weight, starting to get to his feet, but Happy held up a hand. “I’ll get his desk from the other room. Won’t be a minute.”

By the time Happy had disappeared into the adjoining room - which might originally have been for the mistress of the house or possibly the master’s valet, Eddie didn’t know or care which - Christopher had made his way to stand beside Eddie and look up at Rogers.

“Hi, Captain Rogers. I’m Christopher, but you can call me Chris if you like.”

Rogers smiled. “Hi, Chris. I’m Steve. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He sat forward to offer his hand, and Christopher shook it solemnly. “I have a question.”

“Only one?” Eddie murmured, and Rogers smiled briefly.

“I think it might be rude, though,” Christopher said, “so I kinda don’t want to ask, but I really want to know.”

Rogers chuckled. “Well, I’ve already asked your father some rude questions, so it’s only fair that you can ask me some, too - if your father doesn’t mind.”

“I’ve always told him he could ask me anything,” Eddie said. “Though I may tell him I think he’s too young to understand the answer, depending on the question.”

Rogers nodded an acknowledgment, but his attention remained focused on Christopher.

“Some lady on the news said you’re not really a captain. She said you’re a private, and that’s almost like not being a soldier at all.”

Eddie winced because, yes, that was rude. Still, “You need to actually ask a question, mijo.”

Christopher chewed his lip for a moment, obviously thinking how best to ask. “What rank are you?”

“I’m really a captain,” Rogers said. “I enlisted as a private, and I was a private until after the first time I went into combat. Then they made me a captain - it’s called a battlefield promotion, or sometimes a brevet promotion - so that I could do my job and that others would listen to me.”

“But-” Christopher frowned. “But that means you weren’t qua- qual- ready to be a captain.”

“Qualified,” Eddie murmured as he opened a search on his phone.

“Right. Qua-li-fied.”

“I really wasn’t,” Rogers said easily. “But I had a lot of good people who helped me learn to be one.”

“On-the-job training at its worst,” Eddie put in, and Rogers chuckled.

Eddie found what he’d been looking for and held the phone out to Christopher. “That’s a picture of Captain Rogers in uniform.”

Christopher huffed. “I know, Daddy - he’s sitting right here and he still looks the same.”

Eddie suppressed his laugh with an effort. “Okay, mijo - but look at this.”

He enlarged the picture and pointed to Rogers’ shoulder. “See that?”

“Those silver bars?”

“Captain’s bars,” Eddie said. “A private doesn’t have anything on the shoulders.”

“Can I see?” Rogers asked.

Eddie resized the photo and offered him the phone. Rogers took it and studied the image while Happy returned with the schoolroom desk-and-chair unit Christopher had been using since their arrival in New York.

Christopher sat, anchoring his crutches on the desk, and then Happy slid a plate with a sandwich and chips on it in front of him. Eddie had a similar plate a minute later.

“I kept your sandwich simple, sir,” Happy told Rogers. “Roast beef and turkey.”

“There’s no Jell-O,” Christopher said. “The hospital always gives me Jell-O.”

“This isn’t a hospital,” Rogers said, offering Eddie his phone back.

“Mr. Happy, can you get Captain Rogers some Jell-O?”

Eddie wondered briefly if Happy were going to give himself a hernia trying not to laugh. “I’ll see about it, kiddo - but it may not be until dinner.”

Christopher nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer, and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

“I only hear our four heartbeats,” Rogers murmured. “It’s just us?”

“There’s staff - medical, housekeeping, groundskeeping - who come and go as they’re needed,” Eddie said. “Happy’s good enough in the kitchen, and I’ll happily - sorry - clean up after him until I learn to cook. We didn’t want to overwhelm you with people.”

“That’s - considerate.”

“We weren’t sure how your senses would react after so long,” Eddie added. “When you’re ready, I’ll call the doctor to give you a final check and discharge you. Then we’ll get started getting you up to speed on…well, everything that’s happened for the last seventy years.”

“There’s a lot.” Christopher looked up from his sandwich, and Eddie resisted the urge to wipe a bit of mayonnaise from his son’s bottom lip. “I heard Daddy and Mr. Tony talking about it. There’s Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Beatles, and Neil Armstrong, and Sandra Day O’Connor, and Barack Obama, and-”

“Breathe, mijo.” Eddie tousled his son’s hair, which earned him a squawk and a swat at his hand. He focused on Rogers. “We’ve got a list of topics, plus there are some general history books that you can read, and of course we’ve got a laptop with an Internet connection.”

“I was with you until that last,” Rogers said, and Eddie gave himself a mental kick as he considered how to explain.

“A laptop is a type of computer - which is a machine that can do a lot of things really fast.”

“Like your cellular telephone?” Rogers asked.

Eddie considered briefly before saying, “The laptop is to my cell phone as you are now to the you before the serum.”

Rogers’ eyes widened. “Wow.”

“And the Internet is-” Eddie broke off, frowning. “Well, at its most basic, it’s a global system of interconnected computers that can all talk to each other.”

“It’s a great place to look things up,” Christopher said. “But you gotta be careful, because there are liars everywhere.”

Rogers sank back against the bed. “It’s going to overwhelm me, isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, catching up wasn’t as overwhelming as Steve had expected.

He’d been cleared medically the day after he’d regained consciousness, even if the doctor - who, Eddie assured him, was certified to work with Protectors, whatever that meant - did phrase it as, “Just don’t go crash-landing enemy warplanes for at least a week.”

Steve figured that was an easy promise to keep, and he agreed readily enough. Happy sent the doctor on his way with a promise to call if anything changed, and then it was just the four of them, and Steve felt…safe.

It was a strange feeling, considering Steve was the strongest of the four and probably had more combat experience than Eddie, who had served longer but hadn’t been in the forefront of combat as often as Steve had, but it was the first word that came to mind – until he remembered Eddie’s comment about the doctor being certified to work with Protectors.

Then safe became protected and that was a much better description of how Steve felt.

Protected, and grateful beyond measure that his guide had found him and such good men to help him recover.

Steve had barely heard Happy close the door behind the doctor when Christopher came into Steve’s room.

“C’mon, Cap’n Steve,” Christopher said, smiling widely. “You gotta see this!”

“Let me get dressed first,” Steve said - and then wondered if he actually had any clothes besides his uniform and the hospital gown he was wearing.

“Okay!”

Christopher left the room and Steve got out of bed and crossed the room to the only door that hadn’t opened or been opened since he’d regained consciousness. As he’d hoped, beyond it was a closet.

He hadn’t dared to hope for clothing, but the closet held a selection of shirts, both button-up and polo styles, and trousers. Most of them were in muted colors, which meant almost any choice he could make would work together.

Drawers beneath the hanging clothes held socks and underwear, both boxers and briefs, as well as T-shirts and sweat pants. Three pairs of shoes - one each in styles that Steve identified as dressy, casual, and athletic - completed the inventory.

Dressing quickly, he wasn’t surprised to find that everything fit. It would’ve been the work of nothing to get his measurements while he was unconscious and then send someone to the store to make the purchase.

He just had to find out who, so he could pay them back whenever he got a job in this new century.

Christopher was waiting for him. With a bright, “This way!” he started down the hallway, and Steve followed.

Whatever awaited him must be important, because Christopher didn’t say anything else as he led Steve through the ground floor.

Christopher’s silence meant that Steve easily heard Eddie’s voice coming from behind a closed door ahead of them.

“No, Shannon. Contact between us should go through the lawyers.”

Steve reached down to rest a hand on Christopher’s shoulder, stopping them both. Christopher looked up with wide, questioning eyes. “Your father’s on the phone. We should let him finish his call.”

Christopher nodded, and Steve wasn’t ashamed that he stretched his hearing further so he could listen to both sides of the conversation. Eddie had helped him, and if he could help Eddie, somehow, he would. He just needed to know how to help, and the conversation in progress might give him a clue.

At the least, maybe Steve would learn how to help Christopher.

“I didn’t want a divorce, Eddie. I just needed a break.”

“A break?” Eddie sounded somewhere between disbelieving and angry. “A break from caring for an injured husband on top of a child with challenges?”

“Yes!”

“So you moved to California to care for your ailing mother. That’s a break, all right.”

Steve winced. Nothing in Eddie’s tone now mitigated his anger.

“Eddie…it’s just….It was too much.”

“I can’t say I understand,” Eddie’s tone remained hard. “But I will accept that. But too much is no excuse for ghosting your own son. You didn’t even say goodbye. If you want to speak with him, I’ll put him on the phone, but it’ll be on speaker and recorded.”

“There’s no need for that.”

Eddie laughed without humor. “That you protest means there’s every need. I’ll ask Christopher if he wants to talk to you. And yes, you can listen to the whole thing. You can bring him in.”

Steve smiled down at Christopher. “Okay, let’s go.”

“What do you mean, bring him in?” Shannon demanded as Christopher approached the heavy oaken door. “Where is he? Who’s with him?”

Steve pushed the door open as Eddie was saying, “He’s with another sentinel, someone I know from the Army.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, and if Steve hadn’t spent the last day and a half with Eddie Diaz, it wouldn’t have pinged his senses as even a half-truth.

Eddie pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped it before looking at Christopher. “Your mom’s on the phone, mijo.”

Christopher stopped so suddenly Steve almost tripped over him. “Mommy?”

“I’m here, baby,” came from the phone in a tone much friendlier than Shannon Diaz had used before. “Ask your dad to make this a video call.”

“No,” Christopher said.

Eddie looked up at Steve, his expression torn, and Steve nodded as he dropped to one knee and rested a hand on Christopher’s shoulder again. He’d be there for Christopher while Eddie handled Christopher’s mother.

“No? But, baby, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“Well, you left,” Christopher said with all the seriousness an almost-five-year-old could muster. Steve resolutely did not even glance at Eddie; if he did, he knew he’d laugh, and Eddie might, too, and that was the last thing the situation needed. “And we’re busy right now.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

“We have to help Cap’n Steve.”

“Who?”

“The other sentinel I mentioned,” Eddie put in. “He’s just back Stateside, and we’re helping him adjust.”

“Oh.” Shannon paused for a moment, presumably to regroup. Then, “When’s a good time for me to call back?”

Steve looked up in time to see Eddie’s surprised expression, quickly schooled. Beside him, Christopher shrugged, even though his mother – Shannon – couldn’t see him.

“We’re gonna be busy for weeks,” Christopher said. “But then we’ll be in Los Angeles with Abuelita. Maybe then.”

“You’re following me to LA?” Shannon sounded shocked and angry.

Eddie glanced at Christopher and took a breath. “No, Shannon, we’re not following you to LA. We’re moving there to be closer to Abuela so Christopher can make some memories with her. She’s in her seventies, after all. Also, I have a job lined up there and there are lots more opportunities for Christopher in LA than in El Paso. Besides, there are nearly four million people in LA. It’ll take effort on one of our parts to run into each other.”

Steve winced, because even without his enhanced hearing, the and I won’t make the effort sounded loud and clear.

“Bye, Mommy,” Christopher said, his tone firm and serious as only a child’s could be.

“No, baby, wait-”

“Our son is done with this conversation,” Eddie said. “And if you want to talk to me…contact my lawyer.”

Eddie tapped his phone with more force than was probably necessary, given how Steve had seen him use the device before, and shoved it into a pocket. When he looked up again, he focused on Christopher.

“Want to talk about it, mijo?”

“No,” Christopher answered resolutely. “We’re supposed to help Cap’n Steve.”

“Okay,” Eddie agreed - somewhat reluctantly, Steve thought. “But we have to talk about it sometime.”

Christopher nodded even more reluctantly. “But not now.”

Steve cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both Diazes, but he met Christopher’s gaze. “You said there’s something I have to see?”

“Yeah!” Christopher smiled widely and waved one crutch like a circus showman. “Look!”

Steve was ashamed that it wasn’t until that moment that he examined his surroundings, rather than focusing on the people and the conversation he’d witnessed.

Walls lined with walnut shelves overflowing with books told him he was in a library, and that was no surprise. Howard Stark had been a very well-read man, as well as an inventor; Steve assumed his son was the same.

“You want me to read all of these books?” he asked. Even with his enhanced cognitive ability, that would take…a while.

Christopher giggled. “No, silly. That’d take forever. You’re supposed to read those.”

Christopher pointed, and Steve focused on a smaller, freestanding A-frame bookcase with shelves on both sides. It appeared to be made of pine and was on casters, so Steve decided it must be a recent addition to the room.

“And what are these?” he asked.

“Biographies of every president beginning with FDR,” Eddie answered. “Two of each.”

“Why two?” Steve asked.

“Different perspectives,” Eddie told him. “We’re not trying to bias you one way or another, just get you up to speed as quickly as reasonably possible. Besides the presidential biographies, there are books about significant scientific discoveries, like Watson’s Double Helix, Thomas’ Lives of a Cell, and Hawking’s Brief History of Time. There’s also a few of the best-selling novels, especially the more recent ones.”

“And Harry Potter,” Christopher said.

“And Harry Potter,” Eddie agreed. “But you’re still too young for those, mijo.”

Christopher pouted, which made Steve chuckle. Then he blew out a breath and nodded slowly. “You’re going for breadth rather than depth.”

Eddie nodded. “The goal is to get you familiar with what everybody knows. Then you can explore whatever you want in depth.” He grinned wryly. “Neither of us were going to let the other overwhelm you with our preferences.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him, questioning.

“Let’s just say that Tony’s taste and mine only overlap a little, and if we left it to Christopher, all you’d learn about would be dinosaurs and space.”

“But dinosaurs and space are cool, Daddy!”

*BREAK*

September 10, 2015

Leaving Steve Rogers in Eddie Diaz’s care was the right decision. Tony believed that down to his very marrow. Rogers - Steve - needed to get acclimated to the 21^st century before he could even think about anything else, like bonding with a guide, and having one of his own kind, both sentinel and soldier, to help him made the most sense. And there was no one Tony trusted more to look after Rogers - Steve - than Eddie. Except maybe Happy, and that was a large part of the reason he’d asked Happy to remain behind in New York with them.

Still, knowing he’d made the right decision didn’t make Tony’s Malibu workshop any less empty. Nor did it stop him worrying about his guide and the sentinel he’d left him with.

Either Eddie or Happy, and sometimes both, called or texted with an update every day - though for the first week, that update had consisted only of, “No change” - then Eddie called daily after Rogers had woken up ten days ago.

The calls didn’t come at any specific time - though Happy’s tended to come early in the morning - so Tony was left to bide his time each day until his phone rang.

Most days he’d spent going over the results of the SI audit with Pepper and a team of lawyers and accountants. Boring work, but necessary - and not something he trusted to anyone else. Not after Obie’s betrayal.

Today, though, when the call hadn’t come by noon, Tony had retreated to his lab to play with a better design for his arc reactor. He’d known he was trading a quick death for a slow one when he used palladium to build it, but that was the only option he’d had in Afghanistan. Now, back in the US of A, he could refine the design and figure a way to power it that wasn’t going to give him a slow death by radiation poisoning.

“All right, J.” He slid onto a stool and booted up his computer. “We’re going to design a better arc reactor.”

“Sounds like fun, sir,” JARVIS replied. “Where shall we begin?”

“We need a replacement for the palladium first.” Tony tapped in a set of commands that made up a small search program. “Just as powerful, less radioactive.”

“Indeed, sir. Allow me to search for you.”

“Cast a broad net, J,” Tony told him. “I’m not arrogant enough to think that only I might have figured it out.”

“Of course, sir.” It wasn’t actually possible for JARVIS to sound offended, but damn he came close. Tony bit back a grin.

While JARVIS searched, Tony called up a design program. The arc reactor in his chest got the job done, but he should be able to make it a little more streamlined, maybe flush with his chest wall?

“Sir.”

Tony looked up, blinking, at JARVIS’ prompt. “’Sup, J?”

“It appears that your father had discovered - or perhaps created - a new element.”

“What? How’d you find it?” Tony stretched his back muscles. “And throw the diagram on screen, will you?”

“Do you remember the 1974 Stark Expo?” JARVIS asked.

“Some, why?”

“Because this is an aerial view of it.”

The display on the screen changed to an aerial view, not of the Expo itself, but a diorama of it. Given JARVIS’ prompt, Tony shifted the display to a more abstract version, and…

…damn if that didn’t look like the diagram of an atom.

Quickly, Tony called up a search program and ran the new element against diagrams of the known elements, including especially palladium.

Behind him, the doors to his workshop slid open.

“Not now, Pep,” he said without looking up. “Unless it’s really, really urgent.”

“I don’t know that it’s urgent,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “But I do know it’s important.”

Tony whirled, his hand unconsciously coming forward as though he were going to blast his visitor with a repulsor ray.

The tall blond man standing in the doorway held his open hands up and away from his body in the universal “I’m unarmed” gesture.

“Sorry,” he said. “Eddie and Happy told me this is where you’d be.”

Tony recognized him instantly - not just from the newsreels, but also because Tony had just seen him a couple of weeks before. And he had, in fact, gotten a hot sentinel.

“Sentinel Captain Rogers,” he said, lowering his hand.

“Guide Stark.” He, too, lowered his hands. “Happy told me it was okay to join you here. If I’ve overstepped, I apologize.”

“No, it’s fine.” Tony waved him forward. “He just didn’t tell me about it.”

“Ah.” Rogers - Steve? - came forward. “That may have been at my insistence, after Eddie - sorry, Sentinel Sergeant Diaz - told me you’d left me with him as a…protective measure.”

“I just figured you didn’t need a brand-new guide on top of everything else you’ve got going on right now. You want a Coke? Coffee? Water?”

“Water’s fine, thanks. And while I appreciate having some time to get caught up before going out in public, I don’t know that I appreciate you managing me.”

It was just an observation; there was no heat behind the words. To buy himself a little time to answer, Tony crossed to the small refrigerator he kept in the workshop and pulled out two bottles of water. Moments later, he had the bottles open and offered Rogers one.

“I’m your guide. Managing you is my job,” Tony reminded him. “Especially when no one was certain how you’d be when you woke up. Where’s Eddie?”

“Happy’s taking him and his son to his…abuela’s, I think?...house.”

Tony nodded. He’d offered to let Eddie and Christopher stay with him when they came back from New York, but Eddie had politely declined.

“You’re going to be bonding with your sentinel,” he’d said. “Do you really want another sentinel around? More to the point, would he want another one around?”

Put like that, Tony had agreed. Now, standing face to face with his sentinel, he was glad he hadn’t pressed the matter.

“So,” Rogers - Steve? - said after a long moment of not-quite-comfortable silence. “I’m not sure how this works these days.”

“What, GI Joe didn’t tell you everything?” Tony frowned, because that didn’t sound like the Eddie Diaz he’d gotten to know.

“He answered every question I asked. I didn’t ask about this.” Steve blew out a breath. “It seemed too personal.”

“Ah.” Tony finished his water, crumpled the bottle, and tossed it into the recycling bin. “Let’s go upstairs. We’re gonna need something stronger for this conversation.”

It wasn’t long before they were sitting in the living room, bottles of beer in hand.

“You know I can’t actually get drunk, right?” Steve asked with a smile. He took a sip anyway.

“I guess not all the side effects of Erskine’s serum were good,” Tony shot back, and Steve laughed.

Tony took a swallow of his own beer, a peanut butter stout that tasted better than it sounded, and looked down at the bottle in his hands rather than his companion.

“I grew up in the public eye,” he said after a moment. “Only child of Howard Stark and all that. Then, turns out I’m even more of a genius than he was. So, yeah - reporters everywhere, all the time.”

“That can’t have been…easy. Or pleasant. Or any of a hundred other things.”

“You learn to deal with it.” Tony looked up at his sentinel. “And now there’s this whole kidnapping and Iron Man thing.”

“Which is very impressive,” Steve said. “And it would be however you did it. That you did it under those circumstances….”

“Yeah, well.” Tony took another swallow. “It all means that I have a skewed view of what’s personal and what’s not. Because in my experience? Almost nothing actually is.”

Steve didn’t respond immediately, but his expression suggested he was gathering his thoughts.

Finally, Steve said, “So how do you want to go about it?”

“I kinda figured we’d go with what you want,” Tony admitted. “I mean-”

He blew out a breath and began again. “Look, I know that Protector pairs are legally immune from prosecution for anything related to their sexuality. I also know that societal pressures don’t always follow the law. But more to the point, I don’t know how you feel about it, and that’s assuming you’ll accept me as your guide in the first place.”

Steve met his gaze evenly. “I suppose that depends.”

Tony stiffened. “What? What depends on what?”

Steve’s expression was unreadable as he answered, “Whether I’ll accept you as my guide depends on whether or not that was your raven keeping me company.”

“Pretty sure it was.” Tony held out a hand and his spirit guide appeared on his forearm as though he were a falconer. “This is Pallas.”

“Pallas? As in Pallas Athena?” Steve asked.

“Yep. In Poe’s poem, the last stanza, the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door. I thought it fit.”

“I’m honored to meet you officially, Pallas,” Steve said gravely. “Thank you for keeping me company and showing me the way home.”

Pallas cawed and faded away.

“It’s only fair,” Tony said. “Considering how your eagle led me to you. Pallas had to do something to balance the books.”

“Scipio,” Steve said. Tony blinked at him, and he chuckled. “His name is Scipio.”

Scipio appeared on Steve’s shoulder with a shriek that made Tony wince, but he smiled at the bird.

“I’m glad he showed me the way to you,” Tony said. “And I’m glad he has a name unique to him - not something common like Aquila.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a long moment before Tony cleared his throat. “So - that means yes, right?”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Yes to… Oh!” He smiled like the sun bursting through storm clouds. “Yes, I accept you as my guide. Do you accept me as your sentinel?”

Tony couldn’t help snorting. “Like I’d spend weeks making my way across the entire continent and then the ocean and most of Greenland not to accept you.”

Steve laughed at that. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Then he sobered, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I suppose the rituals have changed. What should I do - or does the guide make the first gesture these days?”

Tony frowned. “Gesture?”

“To start…not courtship, exactly, but getting to know each other to be sure we’re compatible, forming the bond, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Tony cleared his throat. “Did Eddie talk about the sexual revolution at all? Or maybe the counterculture movement?”

“More like warned me to expect behavior that would be considered scandalous or even wanton in the 40s.”

Tony chuckled at the phrasing but said, “As a result of that time, most of the rituals you consider necessary are optional. Very optional.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “So - what? We just…get to it?”

“Some do,” Tony admitted. “But I don’t think you’d be one of those. So we’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“What about you? You should be comfortable with it, too.”

Tony didn’t even try not to crack up – though he did project that he wasn’t laughing at Steve. At his phrasing, yes, but not at him.

When Tony got his breath back, he said, “Gotta be honest with you, Steve - there’s not much I’d be uncomfortable with. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“Oh.” Steve blew out a breath. “Then - I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re the sentinel and I’m the guide?”

“Because I want to get to know you before I get to know you Biblically, and dinner is something I’m comfortable with.” Steve’s mouth quirked. “Though you’ll have to spot me the cash until I get my back pay.”

Chapter Text

September 11, 2015

“You’re moving well this morning, Eddito.”

The sound of his grandmother’s voice made Eddie smile and look over at her from where he was finishing a sun salutation in the back yard of her house. Mid-morning meant there was little shade, but she’d found it on her back porch and lingered there rather than joining him on the sun-drenched yard.

He brought his arms down into mountain pose. “Thanks to you, Abuela.”

She’d spent an hour with him the night before, after he and Christopher had gotten home from escorting Steve Rogers to Tony’s Malibu mansion, in a deep healing trance, prodding his recovery with her own guide abilities. When he’d awakened this morning after the best night’s sleep since he’d been shot, he’d felt almost back to normal.

Tony had tried to help while they were searching for Steve, and Eddie couldn’t say he hadn’t. What he could say was that Tony tended to see the body as, well, a biological machine. Abuela had a more inclusive, holistic approach, and between that and Eddie’s familiarity with her, he’d relaxed into her healing more than he ever had with Tony’s.

“Hmf. You should have let me help you weeks ago, Edmundo, instead of gallivanting off with a guide that’s not even your own.”

“I helped him find his sentinel, Abuela. And we found a hero thought dead…alive,” Eddie said quietly as he crossed the yard to her. “I can’t regret either of those things.”

“Mm.” That was as much concession as she would offer, but after a moment, her expression lightened. “Come and shower for breakfast. Pepa will bring Christopher home in time for dinner. I’m making enchiladas.”

“Sí, Abuela.”

Eddie followed her into her house and made his way to the bedroom she’d allowed him and Christopher to share while the divorce became final and Eddie’s house in El Paso was sold. As soon as the funds from the sale hit his account, he’d start looking for a place here in Los Angeles.

He’d never considered moving to LA before, not even with Abuela and Tía Pepa and her family here, but staying close to Tony Stark felt right in a way he couldn’t put into words but didn’t question. Tony wasn’t Eddie’s guide, but Tony trusted precious few people anymore, and Eddie was proud to count himself among those few.

After a shower that wasn’t agonizingly slow, but was still not quite to his usual standards, Eddie pulled on jeans and an Army Strong T-shirt, then slid his feet into a pair of old sneakers that had been tied just loose enough to allow him to put them on and take them off without bending much, and headed for the kitchen, where he found his grandmother making cracking eggs into a bowl while bacon sizzled in a pan on the stove.

“Necessitas ayuda, Abuela?” he asked - the same question he’d asked her as a child and then a teenager when he and his sisters spent summers with her.

“You can set the table,” she answered as she always did. Then she smiled, “And then, perhaps, this afternoon I will show you how to make enchiladas.”

“I love your enchiladas, Abuela,” Eddie said with a seriousness that bordered on fervor. “But maybe we can stick with simpler meals for a while? I spent the last few years having all my meals made for me, and now I have to feed myself and a growing boy, too.”

Abuela paused, whisk in her hand, to focus on him. “You haven’t told me why you and Shannon divorced.”

“Because it’s not pretty,” Eddie answered as honestly as he could. “She abandoned me and Christopher almost as soon as I got home, and I got divorce papers the same day.”

Abuela muttered under her breath in Spanish, and Eddie pretended not to hear.

“Looking back,” he said, “I’m not sure she thought I’d take it seriously. No, that’s not right. I don’t think she thought I’d take it literally. I think she meant them to spur me into…I don’t know, making some grand gesture? Maybe calling her up and begging her to forgive me for whatever I’d done wrong and take me back.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because she didn’t just abandon me,” Eddie said. “She abandoned Christopher. I can’t ever trust her with him again.”

“I understand.” Abuela’s tone and psychic presence both confirmed her words. “But she will have him for visitation.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, she won’t.”

Abuela raised an eyebrow in question, and Eddie blew out a breath.

“Shannon called while we were in New York. Christopher didn’t want to talk to her, which is absolutely his choice to make. She didn’t agree. It got…vocal.”

“That’s…tactful.”

Eddie shrugged. “There’s no need to repeat what she said, but it resulted in a restraining order against her.”

“To match the one against Helena?” Abuela asked, her tone more amused than the situation really called for.

Eddie grinned back. A knock on the door had the grin shading into a frown. “Abuela? Are we expecting anyone?”

She shook her head. “Here, stir the eggs.”

She slipped past him and Eddie took over her position at the stove. He’d resisted learning to cook as a boy, but she’d still managed to teach him a few basics - well, her definition of basics - so he wasn’t a complete disaster in a kitchen. He gave thanks for that teaching, because he’d be able to take better care of Christopher as a result.

He didn’t have to expand his hearing much to listen as the door opened and a gruff male voice said, “I’m looking for Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.”

“You are interrupting his breakfast,” Abuela said. “If you’ll give me your name and number, I will ask him to call you.”

Eddie considered her words as he stirred a bit of shredded cheddar cheese into the eggs. If their visitor were military, she would have invited him in without hesitation, so who was he?

“I don’t mind talking while he’s eating.”

“He minds eating in front of strangers.”

Eddie focused on Abuela’s heartbeat and breathing. Neither had increased in a way that suggested fear or agitation, merely annoyance at this unexpected interruption. The visitor - no, two visitors, he realized as a third heartbeat registered in his awareness - seemed calm as well.

“It’s okay, Abuela,” he said, pitching his voice to carry without shouting. “It sounds important. Or at least, he thinks it’s important. Might as well get it over with.”

Abuela hummed under her breath, though he suspected she meant him to hear it, and after a moment of footsteps and a closing door, a tall, bald Black man in a black leather duster and eyepatch came in, followed by a dark-haired Caucasian woman about six inches shorter than the man.

Neither of the newcomers felt like a Protector to his senses, and he relaxed fractionally.

“Please, have a seat.” Eddie gestured toward the dining table with the spatula before focusing on Abuela. “I think these are ready.”

She joined him and took the spatula he offered, stirring the eggs briefly. “Perhaps a little dry, but muy bueno, for your first try.”

“We’ll see how they taste,” Eddie said with a grin.

“Serve your guests, and I will serve us.”

“Sí, Abuela.” He turned to the pair at the dining table. “Coffee?”

“Black,” the man said.

“Cream, if you have it,” the woman said.

“Will milk do?” Eddie countered as he took cups from the cabinet above the coffeemaker and poured the coffee.

“That’s fine.”

He had the coffee ready just as Abuela served breakfast. He held her chair for her, then sat beside her opposite their uninvited guests.

Manners compelled him to speak before he took a bite. “You have us at a disadvantage.”

“Nick Fury, director of SHIELD,” the man said. “And Deputy Director Maria Hill.”

Thanks to hours of conversation with Tony during the search for Steve Rogers, Eddie recognized Fury’s name, but hoped he concealed any reaction by chewing his eggs.

Abuela, though, didn’t recognize the name. Or chose to pretend not to; Eddie was never certain with her. “What is this SHIELD?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Hill answered.

“Division of what?” Abuela asked, a bit of eggs poised on her fork. “Homeland Security?”

“Something like that,” Fury said, and the evasion wasn’t lost on Eddie.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Eddie asked, and took another bite of eggs.

“I’m curious why you would accompany Tony Stark to remote Greenland.”

This time, it was anger that Eddie concealed by taking a swallow of coffee. Abuela didn’t move, but he felt her psionic presence settling around him like a blanket, and his anger cooled. A little.

Regardless of his anger at the blatant invasion of his privacy, Eddie met the other man’s gaze evenly. “I’m curious why what two private citizens do is any concern of yours.”

Fury spread his hands in what Eddie supposed was intended to be a disarming manner. “You’re just not someone I would’ve expected to go with him.”

Abuela snorted, but otherwise continued her meal - and her psionic comfort, which Eddie would have to thank her properly for later.

But it was a good excuse for Eddie to focus on her. “Did that sound insulting to you, Abuela? Because it sounded insulting to me.”

“It was certainly impolite,” Abuela said, her tone milder than her words. “Especially coming from someone who clearly wants something from you.”

“Then let’s cut to the chase, so you can stop invading la casa de mi abuela,” Eddie suggested, and shoved a strip of bacon in his mouth.

“Fine.” Fury pushed his coffee aside, untouched, and leaned forward, crossing his forearms on the table and leaning forward. “What were you and Stark doing in Greenland?”

“Spelunking.” Eddie spoke without thinking, though on reflection, the answer was only partly a lie. The inside of the Valkyrie had been cavernous.

Hill almost choked on her coffee, and Eddie dropped his fork onto his plate, watching her carefully, both his medical training and his enhanced senses coming to the fore in case she needed assistance.

Even Fury glanced her way, but she was already wiping her lips and shaking her head. “Sorry.”

Eddie focused on Fury again. “Why do you care?”

“SHIELD has an ongoing operation in Greenland,” Fury replied. “Stark showing up there… Let’s just say I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“With all respect, you should be talking to Mr. Stark about this,” Eddie said. “He invited me to go, and I agreed. It’s probably the only chance I’ll ever have to see Greenland.”

“How did you and Stark meet?” Hill asked.

“In Afghanistan,” Eddie answered. “I was part of the team that found him.”

“And that was enough to have him inviting you to Greenland?” Fury couldn’t have sounded more skeptical if he’d tried.

Eddie gave a half-shrug as he picked up the last of his bacon. “Not the weirdest thing he’s ever done. It was also a job interview of sorts.”

And then he kicked himself for that last admission. He normally had better control than to volunteer anything unasked for. Maybe one or the other of his visitors had an unconscious psionic ability to encourage sharing information?

“What was a division of Homeland Security doing in Greenland?” Abuela asked. “We don’t have any reason to be there, do we?”

“Thule Air Base,” Eddie answered, only mildly surprised that Hill said the same thing.

Eddie saw that Abuela, too, had finished eating, and he reached over to collect her plate and silverware, along with his own, before taking them all to the kitchen and rinsing them. He stacked everything in the sink and grabbed the coffeepot to refill cups as needed.

“Hm.” Abuela shook her head. “That still doesn’t seem to me like much. But I’m just an old woman rambling.”

“You’re not rambling, Abuela,” Eddie murmured, not least because he’d been wondering the same thing. “And you’re certainly not old.”

“It’s a recovery mission,” Hill said. “We got a lead on some equipment that had been lost in the Second World War.”

Equipment? Or…had SHIELD been looking for Captain America - Steve - too? The thought sent a chill down Eddie’s spine.

Thankfully, his time in the Army had taught him how to keep a straight face when all he really wanted to do was cuss out the officer giving idiotic orders.

So Eddie merely raised an eyebrow at Hill. “And you think Tony Stark - who more than one magazine has called the Man of the Future - would be interested in vintage equipment?”

“Stark’s father was heavily involved in the war effort,” Fury said as though that were sufficient explanation. Which it wasn’t, but it carried the implication that Tony might want the equipment out of some nostalgia or historical interest.

“Mm.” Eddie took a swallow of his coffee. “All I can say is we weren’t looking for equipment, vintage or otherwise.”

“Right.” Fury’s tone practically wallowed in sarcasm. “You were spelunking.”

Eddie grinned. “Yep.”

“If that is all,” Abuela said, her tone like velvet over steel, “perhaps you could allow us to finish our day in peace.”

It seemed even agents of a secret organization weren’t immune to Abuela’s voice of steel, because mere moments later, Eddie closed the door behind the two agents. He was just heading back to the kitchen when a knock sounded on the door he’d just closed.

When he answered the door, he was surprised to see Maria Hill standing there, looking somewhat sheepish.

“May I use your bathroom before we go?” she asked. “My boss just told me we have other stops, and traffic here is murder.”

“Sure.” Eddie led her to the bathroom and retreated back toward the living room as the door closed behind her.

He couldn’t help turning up his hearing - not that he was a voyeur, but he didn’t trust her or Fury not to…he couldn’t even decide what. Leave a surveillance device or three was the least of what they might do. Listening in meant he’d know if Hill did anything more than exactly what she said she was doing.

Thanks to months of monitoring Chris, and even Steve during his recovery, Eddie knew what all major bodily functions sounded like intimately, even embarrassingly – and that was all he heard from Maria Hill.

Hill smiled when she came back to the living room. “Thanks. Fury can be dedicated to the point of obsession sometimes. Besides, never pass up an opportunity to-”

“Eat, sleep, or piss,” Eddie finished in chorus with her, and found himself smiling in return. “You served?”

“Navy. Four years before I joined SHIELD.”

Eddie nodded, weighed his options, and decided to be blunt. “Are you the honeypot?”

She snorted, and then looked embarrassed that she had, but she shook her head. Her pulse and respiration remained steady. “Not even. I’m too direct for that kind of job.”

“Some men like direct,” Eddie pointed out.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “I assume sentinels do in general. But you do in particular, don’t you?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m a sentinel?”

“There’s a note in your discharge papers. It must’ve been horrible, coming online in a helicopter crash, and in combat to boot.”

Eddie hoped he concealed his surprise. The Army knew when he’d come online, so why did his file record his onlining as weeks later?

To ask the question was to answer it. Tony Stark must have done something - or, at best, called in a favor or ten - to hide the truth.

Regardless, he offered Hill a wry smile. “Most of us come online in less than ideal circumstances. Thanks for not taking offense at my question.”

Hill offered him a smile full of genuine amusement, if his senses were to be trusted. “I’d be wondering the same thing, if our positions were reversed.”

Eddie nodded and moved to open the door for her.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Sergeant Diaz,” she said.

“And you, Deputy Director Hill,” Eddie replied. “I just wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Circumstances that wouldn’t have had him wondering about her motives for the foreseeable future.

He closed the door behind her and turned to see Abuela standing in the doorway to the dining room. He held up a hand, and she nodded.

They waited until the sound of the car that had brought the agents faded. Then, for the next few minutes, they searched the house, both physically and psionically. Finally, just to be sure, Eddie went outside and searched the immediate area.

Paranoid? Maybe, but unexpected visitors from an extra-governmental agency had all of his instincts humming at high alert. He wasn’t comforted at all that Abuela seemed to share his unease.

Finally, he went back inside, careful to lock the door behind him, and Abuela pulled him into a hug, bringing his head close to hers.

Her voice was barely audible even to him when she said, “You think they were looking for Captain Rogers.”

“The chances of finding anything significant from World War Two are practically none,” Eddie responded, equally quietly.

“You need to tell Mr. Stark.”

Eddie nodded, and Abuela released him. He definitely needed to tell Tony, but he wasn’t about to do it right after the visit from SHIELD, which would make it look like he felt guilty about something, nor in a way that was easily traceable.

Fortunately, he knew exactly how to do so.

Chapter Text

September 14, 2015

At a quarter to nine on the Monday after the visit from SHIELD, Eddie strode into the Stark Industries building. For all the time he’d spent with Tony Stark, he’d never been here before, so he took a moment to orient himself and his senses.

Nearly five hundred people worked in this building, and Eddie would never be able to keep track of them all individually without being bonded to a guide. But he picked out a heartbeat he knew well - Happy Hogan’s - and that led him to Pepper Potts and then Tony Stark, whose presence Eddie marked as much by the sound of the arc reactor in his chest as by his heartbeat.

Those three were enough for now, though Eddie would add others as he settled in.

The process had only taken a few moments, but it was enough to have the man at the security-cum-reception station eyeing Eddie with suspicion.

Eddie crossed to the desk and offered his driver’s license. He’d only ever had a Texas license before, and his new California license still looked odd to him. “Eddie - sorry, Edmundo Diaz, reporting for orientation.”

The man, maybe twice Eddie’s age but still fit, took the license, typed something into the computer at his station, and nodded at whatever he saw. Then he compared the photo on the license to Eddie and handed the license back, along with a visitor’s badge.

“Fourth floor, room 420,” he said.

Eddie thanked him and headed for the bank of elevators, pleased that he had to swipe his visitor’s badge even to call a car. Tony clearly took security seriously, and that settled Eddie’s sentinel senses somewhat.

Room 420 turned out to be a conference room that would seat ten people comfortably and half again that many if they were cozy. The window wall had a view of the parking garage and, behind it, the Los Angeles metroplex.

Eddie looked out at the city for a moment, wondering where he’d eventually settle. El Paso hadn’t felt like home since he’d gotten home from Afghanistan. Neither had New York, though that might be due to staying in Tony Stark’s mansion, and now LA was joining the list of places where Eddie didn’t quite belong, despite the presence of his abuela and other family from his father’s side.

Eddie shook that thought off and finished his survey of the room - television screen on the far left wall and a built-in credenza along the far right wall. The credenza held a coffee and tea station as well as a selection of bagels and donuts.

A petite woman with a riot of reddish-auburn hair curling down past her shoulders stood at the coffee station, pouring herself a cup. She looked up when he came in and he nodded a greeting before taking a seat facing the door.

The woman brought her coffee to the table, choosing a seat one away from where Eddie sat, and turned to face him.

“Hi.” She offered her hand. “Natalie Rushman.”

He rose and took her hand, pleased that she had a real grip, not a dead-fish one. “Eddie Diaz.”

He waited until she sat before resuming his own seat. “What will you be doing?”

“Paralegal,” she said.

“Mi tía - my aunt - is a paralegal,” Eddie said. “From what she says, the work can be interesting, if tedious sometimes.”

Natalie laughed, a low, throaty sound that should have gone straight to Eddie’s groin but instead made all of his senses tingle with apprehension. “That’s about right. But I suspect every job has some tedium associated with it.”

“I suspect mine will have more than most,” Eddie said wryly as his senses settled into a mild suspicion, then added, “Security.”

Before Natalie could respond, another man and woman joined them, and the four barely had the chance to exchange introductions before a graying woman with a stern demeanor came in carrying four inch-thick white binders and Eddie resigned himself to a morning of paperwork.

“All right, then,” she said. “Let’s get started.”

*BREAK*

To Eddie’s surprise, the new hire process only took an hour and a half, most of which was taken up by videos explaining various policies. He appreciated that, as it was far more efficient than expecting every new hire to read everything in an inch-thick policy and procedure manual, even if each of them were given a copy of said manual.

Happy arrived just as Eddie completed the last of the intake forms. “Ready, Eddie?”

Eddie slid his paperwork to the HR lady and rose.

“Good to meet you all,” he said with a glance that included the other new hires and the HR lady.

“Maybe we can meet for lunch?” Natalie suggested.

Combined with the suspicion he’d felt earlier, that somewhat-more-than-innocent suggestion was enough that Eddie took a breath and let his psionic shields thin, hoping for a better read…

…only to feel and scent nothing from her. True nulls were rare, but even if she were, why would she be wearing a sensory blocker?

Almost before he formulated the question, Eddie’s instincts clicked into place. Oh, he thought. You’re the honeypot.

But all he said was, “Sounds good, depending on my shift.”

Then he was falling into step with Happy.

“You’re moving a lot better than you were,” Happy observed as they headed for the elevators.

“Mi abuela,” Eddie said, though the man might not understand an oblique reference. “She’s quite gifted.”

“Whatever the reason, it’s good to see.” Happy swiped his card at the elevator. “The boss has your ID card.”

Eddie frowned. “The HR lady said we could pick them up when we leave tonight.”

Happy shook his head as they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. “Boss is handling yours personally.”

Eddie blew out a breath.

“Problem?” Happy asked.

“I - don’t know how to say this without being insulting,” Eddie said.

“I won’t be insulted.”

“I feel like I’m getting special treatment.”

Happy shrugged. “Maybe a little - but you earned it, both saving the boss’ life and helping with the captain.”

Eddie started to protest that he was just doing his job, but Happy continued before he could speak.

“Boss isn’t good at saying things. He does things, you know?”

Eddie considered that for a long moment, and a book Shannon had really enjoyed – something about love languages – came to mind. “I think I understand. Thanks.” He took a breath. “So, what’s my assignment?”

He figured as the new guy, he’d get the worst assignments - desk duty overnight or something - but it was a job, and one that didn’t require much physical activity or expensive extra training while he finished recovering and got his feet back under him.

“You’re with me on the boss’ personal detail.”

Eddie blinked. “Huh?”

Okay, that wasn’t the most articulate or intelligent reaction. He cleared his throat.

“I mean, I’m brand new, and that seems like a plum assignment.”

Happy grinned at him. “The boss trusts you, remember? That doesn’t come easy, or soon. Usually.”

Eddie was saved from responding to that when the doors slid open and Happy led him down a corridor to, yes, a corner office overlooking the westernmost part of the city and the ocean beyond.

Tony slouched in the chair behind a very modern-looking glass-and-chrome desk, his Black Sabbath T-shirt and jeans a sharp contrast to the sleek office. He was tapping at his phone, ignoring the perfectly good laptop on the desk, but looked up as Happy and Eddie entered.

“Looking sharp there, sentinel,” Tony said, and Eddie instinctively ran a hand down his suit jacket.

“No harm in dressing up,” he said. “Besides, I took my cue from Happy. He’s always in a suit while he’s on duty. Though I didn’t know I was going to be on your personal detail.”

“Happy’s head of security overall,” Tony said. “And, much as we both hate to admit it, there’s so much going on now that he won’t be able to be my driver and personal security regularly for a while.”

“A while?” Eddie glanced between the two men.

“We’re still vetting every SI employee and contractor,” Happy said. “Plus we need an overhaul of the systems and policies that let Stane hide what he was doing so long. It’s gonna take a while.”

It was as good an opening as any. Eddie took a breath and said, “And you may have another problem. I had a visit from the director and deputy director of SHIELD last week.”

Tony sat up straight. “Fury and Hill? What did they want?”

“To know what we were doing in Greenland.” Eddie grinned. “I told them we were spelunking.”

Tony snorted a laugh. “Bet that went over well. Why were they in Greenland? Or aware that we were?”

Eddie spoke the next words carefully. “They said they had an ongoing operation there.”

Tony stared at him. “You think they were looking for Steve.”

Eddie met his gaze with a shrug. “I can’t think of anything else they’d be looking for. Sure, they fed me a line about some vintage equipment, but you tell me if that makes any sense at all.”

Tony thought for a moment. “I can’t imagine what vintage equipment they might want, but I don’t know everything the Nazis or Hydra were working on. But…it’s easy to figure out why they wanted Steve – or even his body.”

“Reverse engineer whatever was done to him,” Eddie said. Tony nodded, and Eddie continued, “So you have a choice to make. Well, technically, Steve does.”

Tony Stark wasn’t just an engineering genius, so he got it immediately. “Whether or not to go public.”

Eddie nodded as Tony lurched to his feet and started to pace before the glass wall. Eddie settled back in his seat, waiting while the other man thought.

“My gut says go public,” Tony said finally. “It won’t even be hard - Dad searched until he died. Easy enough to say I continued the search in his memory, because bringing a war hero home for a proper burial is the right thing to do.”

“I agree,” Eddie said. “The going public part, I mean. But it has to be his choice.”

“It’s insulting that you’d think I think otherwise.”

“I don’t. Just reminding you.” Eddie grinned briefly. “You do have a history of lousy impulse control.”

Tony’s answering grin was slow to appear, but it finally did. “Not so much, lately. But, generally - fair point.”

Eddie took a breath. “And - I think I found the honeypot this morning.”

“Honeypot?” Tony and Happy asked together.

“Hill came back to use the bathroom before they left,” Eddie said. “And I asked her if she was the honeypot - not that I had figured out what the point of a honeypot might be, but I asked, mostly to get her reaction. She laughed and said she’s too blunt to be a honeypot.”

Tony’s eyebrows creased together. “But you think you found one this morning. Where?”

“Orientation. I don’t have proof,” he added quickly, “but she felt off. Psionically null and wearing a sensory blocker. And she made sure to invite me to lunch.”

“Name?” Tony tapped his phone. “J?”

“Natalie Rushman, paralegal,” Eddie answered.

A moment later, JARVIS said, “I’ve sent her file to your laptop, sir.”

Tony tapped a few keys and turned the laptop so Eddie could see the screen. “This her?”

Eddie barely needed a glance at the image to nod confirmation.

“Should I have her removed, Boss?” Happy asked.

“No.” Eddie surprised himself when he chorused the word with Tony. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, not my call.”

“Kind of is,” Tony countered. “You being my personal security and all. But this time I think we’re just thinking alike. Leave her in play, keep an eye on what she does?”

Eddie nodded. “She was flirty with me. I can use that, if necessary.”

“That’s your secondary assignment, then,” Happy said. “The boss comes first, but when he doesn’t need you, see what you can find out.”

“Meantime, here’s your badge.” Tony tossed the piece of plastic toward him like it was a Frisbee.

Eddie caught it and swapped it for the visitor badge he was wearing. “Any particular reason you did mine personally?”

“So you don’t have to turn it in when you quit.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m going to quit?”

“Eventually.” Tony shrugged. “And probably sooner than later. You’re a sentinel and a soldier. Being my bodyguard won’t satisfy you long term, and I never expected it to. Doesn’t mean I want you out of my life when it happens.”

Chapter Text

October 2, 2015

The decision to reveal Steve’s survival came sooner than Tony had expected, and not because of anything SHIELD or its plant in his company had done.

Steve himself had suggested it.

“I know I’m not fully caught up with the modern day,” he’d said. “But I can manage most things, and I hate waiting around for the other shoe to drop. If they’re our enemy, they’ll reveal my survival at the worst possible time. If they’re our friend, they’ll just be happy.”

So this morning, Tony snugged his necktie into place, the mirror in his office at Stark Industries helping him get it just right.

He stared at his reflection for a moment as the door to the office opened - and then he undid the tie and threw it aside before heading for the valet stand in the far corner and the four other ties draped from it.

“Something wrong?”

Steve’s voice made Tony smile, but he stayed focused on the selection of ties.

“Dark blue suit, red tie,” Tony said, his fingers trailing across the various silks. “Made me look like I work for IBM. Something else - green’s not right, though.”

“Black.”

Steve’s amused declaration made Tony look up, and his breath caught in his throat.

He’d seen pictures of Steve in uniform during the war, of course, but those didn’t prepare him for the sight of Steve in the Army’s current blue service uniform, the lines of the suit perfectly pressed and…not as much chest candy has he expected. Huh.

He cleared his throat. “Guess there really is something about a man in uniform.”

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to wear it?” Steve asked. “I mean - there are regulations, right?”

“You’re still active duty,” Tony said. “MIA, you know? And while they’re processing your retirement papers, you can still wear it.”

Steve nodded, then quirked a grin. “There’s also something about a man in a dress suit. Black tie, so we match.”

Match? Tony frowned, then focused on Steve’s tie.

Huh. It was black. Somehow, Tony had never noticed that. He’d assumed the tie was the same deep blue of the dress uniform itself.

Then again, most of the time he was meeting with anyone from the Army, they were in combat dress. He supposed he could be forgiven for not giving a damn about the details of a dress uniform until he had a vested interest in it.

Or rather, in the man wearing it. During the weeks between pulling Steve from the Valkyrie and Steve’s unexpected arrival in California, Tony had tasked JARVIS with figuring out Steve’s position in the modern world.

JARVIS, ever thorough, reported that Steve was classified as missing in action - not killed in action - which meant…well, several things, but most importantly, that Steve’s status could easily be reclassified to active duty, and therefore he’d be eligible for seventy years of back pay.

Only slightly less importantly, from today’s standpoint, it meant that Steve was still allowed to wear his uniform for important or formal occasions. Today certainly qualified, and despite his preference for vintage concert T-shirts, Tony knew how to dress for important or formal occasions.

He picked up a black tie and slid it around his neck. “How should I tie it? So we match, I mean.”

“Apparently, we have a choice,” Steve said dryly. “Full Windsor, half-Windsor, or four-in-hand.”

Tony glanced at Steve’s tie. “And you picked the Windsor.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s the only knot I ever learned.”

“Well, we’ll fix that. But not today.” Today, Tony’s fingers formed a full Windsor with the ease of decades of practice.

When he would have checked the mirror, Steve stepped forward and smoothed his tie. “You ready for this?”

“Me?” Tony stared at him. “You’re the one who’s about to be plastered all over the news.”

“It won’t be the first time. And I’m not talking about all those war bonds posters, either,” he added, and Tony chuckled because he had been about to bring that up. “I was on the newsreels - and I know it’s not the same as today, but…in a way, it is.”

Tony frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“People are the same,” Steve said. “It manifests differently, but we’re all the same - probably hardwired that way - interested in other people, movie stars or whoever, just because we think their lives are better than our own.”

Tony’s frown deepened. “From the newsreels?”

“Yes.” Steve’s tone turned somber. “I used to watch them, you know, before Dr. Erskine took a chance on me. I’d watch the updates, and sometimes they’d interview a soldier and I’d think, I want to be there. I want to be him. It’s the same today.”

Tony blinked at that, hearing the truth in Steve’s words, a truth he’d never realized before. “Huh.”

At Steve’s puzzled expression, Tony added, “I never thought of it like that - because I never felt like that. I never wanted to be anybody other than who I am.”

“You’ve had a lot of blessings in your life,” Steve said. “Not everyone’s as fortunate.”

“No, but you’re the one who said we’re all the same. Hardwired, even - and congratulations for using a modern idiom correctly.”

“Ass.” Steve shoved at his shoulder, just enough to make him move. Then he paused, clearly concentrating. Then he groaned.

“What?” Tony asked.

“Eddie said they’re ready for us, and could we please be decent when we come out, because while he can’t help hearing us, he doesn’t need to see us all lovey-dovey. His words.”

Tony snorted and strode to the door, flinging it open to scowl at Eddie Diaz. “Don’t be a lying liar who lies, Diaz - you’d love to watch us. We’re hot as the Afghan desert, and I would know.”

Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “One, that’s not what I said, and two, this is not the time or the place for it anyway.”

Behind him, Steve spluttered. Tony met Eddie’s gaze and grinned. Eddie just shook his head before looking past him to Steve.

“I made a circuit of the room before I came to get you. Everything feels right, but Tony’s going to do an empathic scan before he goes to the podium. I’ll stay with him until it’s time for you to speak, and then I’ll take over watching the room.”

“Thank you.” Steve’s acknowledgment was enough to have Eddie nodding, then turning to lead the way to the building lobby where the press conference would take place.

As soon as the elevator hit the ground floor, Tony reached out with his empathic senses, scanning the crowd in a general way, feeling for any emotions that shouldn’t be there.

Happy was waiting at the ground floor and fell into step with them for the final trek to the lobby, his empathic presence as solid and, yes, comforting, as his physical presence. Tony grinned at him, briefly, before resuming his scan.

Thankfully, Tony felt only curiosity, interest, and a little impatience. No one felt too curious or too interested or, worse, too focused, and no overt hostility flared in his awareness.

Tony tapped Eddie’s shoulder, once, to confirm he felt the situation was safe and, a minute later, he stood at the podium, looking out over the crowd. He recognized most of the reporters from prior press conferences and interviews, but there were a couple of new faces.

He focused on the newbies specifically, just to confirm his perceptions and also register them in his mental file, before taking a breath and smiling briefly at the crowd.

“Good morning,” he began. “I want to start with a very brief history lesson - don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz after.”

There was a spattering of laughter, and he continued, “In 1943, Dr. Abraham Erskine developed a formula that became known as the super-soldier serum, which was intended to enhance the human body and mind. Of course, it wasn’t as easy as chugging a dozen cans of Red Bull. It needed activation, for lack of a better word, and that’s where Stark Industries comes in.”

He had their attention, but still he scanned them again. No change.

“To make a long story short, Stark equipment was used for the only fully successful activation of the serum. Many people had volunteered for the serum, but ultimately Steve Rogers was chosen to receive it.” He let his gaze sweep across the reporters. “You may know him better by his stage name - later his code name - Captain America.”

A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, and Tony took a breath. The next part was the worst.

“With his squad of Howling Commandos, Captain Rogers was a significant force during the war, leading raids on facilities run by Hydra, the Nazi equivalent of our Strategic Scientific Reserve, and rescuing hundreds of American and other Allied soldiers from experimentation. In 1945, Hydra launched a super bomber called the Valkyrie, which was carrying sufficient payload to destroy most of the world’s major cities - Washington. New York. London. Moscow. Captain Rogers gave his life to bring that plane down, saving uncountable millions of lives as a result.”

The crowd had fallen entirely silent, though Tony felt their confusion. Why was he bringing this up now?

“After the war,” Tony continued, “my father devoted considerable resources to finding the remains of the Valkyrie. He wanted to ensure the ordnance it carried was safely disposed of, sure, but mostly it was his self-imposed mission to bring Captain Rogers home for a proper burial. I wish he could be the one standing here today to announce: mission accomplished.”

It wasn’t quite the bedlam that had erupted when he announced the audit of Stark Industries, far less the bedlam after he made the simple announcement, “I am Iron Man.” But it took several minutes for relative quiet to overtake the gathered reporters once again.

“Not long ago,” Tony continued, “a Stark Industries expedition found the remains of the Valkyrie in the middle of nowhere, Greenland. The Army was notified immediately, and EOD personnel have since been diligently working to properly, safely, dispose of the ordnance it carried.”

A handful of hands went up, and he smiled.

“But you don’t care about that, do you? I get it - ordnance disposal is pretty boring.” He got another scattering of laughter at that, then continued, “You want to know whether Captain Rogers’ body was recovered, and the answer is a resounding yes.”

He held up a hand to forestall questions. “What none of us expected was that Captain Rogers did not actually die in the crash. Instead, he fell into a form of cryo-sleep, or suspended animation.”

“Are you saying he’s alive?”

Tony didn’t bother to locate the reporter who’d asked – shouted, really - the question. Instead, he simply turned to face the corridor where Steve waited.

They hadn’t actually arranged a cue, but Steve had spent enough time in USO shows to recognize one when he heard it, and he came from the side corridor straight and tall.

Steve made it all the way to the podium, even managed, “Hello, I’m Steve Rogers-” before the ovation began.

*BREAK*

When the press conference finally wound down, the sun was sinking behind the Pacific. Tony tried to dismiss Eddie - “you have a son to get home to” - but Eddie just shook his head.

“This is my duty station,” Eddie said. “Besides, Christopher’s staying with Tía Pepa and her grandchildren tonight. On top of that, my truck’s at your house.”

So Tony gave in with as much grace as he could muster - which wasn’t much, honestly. Who would have thought re-introducing a hero to the world would be so exhausting?

Well, it wasn’t that so much as it was being bombarded by so many people’s emotions so long, and very intense emotions at that. While Steve had been focused on answering questions, Eddie had done what he could to balance Tony’s senses - unobtrusively, of course, because Tony would never broadcast that he’d come online - but so many people, so hyper, for so long…

Tony might not leave the house for a month.

Despite his serum enhancements, Steve looked equally exhausted after his first public appearance since he’d woken from his frozen sleep. Though, to be fair, hours of answering mostly inane questions would exhaust anyone.

For now, though, Tony let his mind wander as Eddie navigated the SUV through the streets of Southern California.

Steve was already caught up on the major historical events  and scientific developments since he’d gone into the ice, and they were working their way through pop culture and social norms. Tony had reluctantly admitted Eddie was correct to set up a chronological schedule, so Steve would understand how movies, music, and TV had evolved, not just that they had changed.

They were up to 1969; next up was Black Sabbath’s debut album, and Tony considered playing that for Steve tonight, and then KISS and AC/DC were just around the corner.

Except that Eddie had insisted on country music, too, so there’d be a brief detour to catch up with Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell, and Conway Twitty. Tony hoped he managed to conceal his dislike of country - though Cash and Twitty had impressive growls, and Campbell on a guitar was nothing to sneeze at.

That sounded good, actually, and Tony sat forward. “Yo, Diaz - you want to order pizza and have a double album night? Black Sabbath’s debut and the country album of your choice?”

Eddie glanced at him via the rearview mirror. “Tammy Wynette, Stand by Your Man.”

Tony couldn’t help grimacing. “If you must.”

Eddie laughed. “I won’t insist - though, Steve, it’s worth listening to sometime when it won’t annoy Tony.”

Steve chuckled at that. “What would you suggest, then?”

“Glen Campbell’s Galveston,” Eddie answered immediately, and Tony crowed.

“I was actually thinking Campbell, Cash or Twitty,” he said to Steve.

“Sure you were.” Eddie turned the SUV onto the drive leading to Tony’s mansion.

“I was,” Tony protested. “Cash and Twitty for their singing, Campbell for guitar.”

“Oh, well, for guitar, you can’t beat Roy Clark,” Eddie said. “But we should have a whole night of great guitarists.”

“A whole weekend,” Tony corrected, then frowned. “But to really do it right, we have to wait until Steve’s heard at least something from all of them - Clapton, Santana-”

“Kravitz, Raitt, Urban,” Eddie said. “The list goes on.”

Eddie parked the SUV and shut off the engine. Tony started to reach for the door handle, but stopped himself. Since becoming his bodyguard and driver, Eddie had taken to scanning wherever they went with his enhanced senses before he’d allow Tony inside. The process was annoying, but Tony respected the dedication Eddie brought to the job.

“Mierda.”

Tony blinked. “I don’t know that word.”

“Shit,” Steve said. “Or that’s my guess, because it sounds like the French merde.”

“Close enough,” Eddie said. “I hear two heartbeats in the house. Can you confirm?”

Silently, Tony reached over to guide Steve’s hand around his wrist. Normally, he’d hold on to Steve, but while his sentinel was scanning the house, Tony sent a text to Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey asking if any of them had come by.

He received negative responses from all three almost immediately and sent an acknowledgment to each, including reassuring Happy that Steve and Eddie were with him.

“Confirmed, two heartbeats,” Steve said a moment later. “Slow, but not resting slow.”

“Right.” Eddie reached over to the glove compartment, pressed his pinky finger against the scanner, and retrieved the 1911-style Springfield 9mm he kept there.

Steve performed a similar action on the front of the back seat between him and Tony, and a shallow compartment hinged open. Steve preferred a more modern version of a Colt .45, and it was in his hand a moment later.

“Your impressions, Tony?” Eddie asked.

Tony grimaced as he realized he hadn’t bothered to scan the house empathically. Months online, and he still defaulted to technology. Then again, maybe he always would.

“Gimme a sec.”

Tony breathed in and out, settling his mind as he did - as much as he ever could settle his mind, anyway - before stretching his psionic senses toward and around his house and the intruders inside.

“No hostile intent,” he said after a moment’s examination. “Predatory, maybe, but not hostile.”

“Interesting distinction,” Eddie murmured. “I’ll go in first, like we don’t have a clue what’s happening, and do a routine sweep. Cap, be ready to get Tony out if things go sideways.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Tony said.

“And you’re not already in your armor,” Eddie shot back. “We don’t want to put them on edge, change predatory to hostile, if we don’t have to.”

Then he made a series of hand gestures that Tony didn’t quite follow. Beside him, Steve grimaced, but nodded.

As one, Steve and Eddie opened their doors. To Tony it sounded like only one door, and opening his own was an odd echo of movement and sound.

The two sentinels closed their doors in eerie unison, again leaving Tony feeling odd man out when he closed his a second later.

Some of that feeling must’ve shown in his expression, because Eddie grinned briefly before starting toward the door into the house.

The door opened on silent hinges and Eddie stepped inside. Briefly, Tony wondered if how to clear a house was part of Eddie’s military training. Then Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat.

“Hey, J, I’m home,” he said.

“Welcome home, siiii….” JARVIS’ voice trailed off in a familiar way.

Tony almost growled, but contented himself with whispering, “SHIELD. They shut him off once before.”

And he, idiot that he was, hadn’t thought to upgrade JARVIS’ security in the meantime.

Then again, he had been preoccupied with his sentinel. In more ways than one.

Eddie nodded, and only then Tony noticed that Steve had peeled off, presumably to take a different route through the house. Still, after that wordless acknowledgment, Eddie moved forward.

Minutes later, Eddie paused at the entrance to the living area. Tony looked over his shoulder to see two men standing silhouetted against the picture window overlooking the Pacific. The afternoon sun cast their faces in shadow, but the general body outline told Tony that one of the two was Nick Fury.

The other was probably the other agent Tony had met, the one who’d drafted the speech after the Stane incident - which speech Tony had thrown out the window in favor of a simple, “I am Iron Man.”

What was his name again? Coulson? Yeah. Agent Coulson.

Neither of them seemed all that fussed at having a gun pointed at them. Maybe their jobs had inured them to it? Tony didn’t know and that the question had made it through the anger he felt at having his home violated again was something of a miracle, if not a particularly pleasant one.

“Whichever one of you has your warrant,” Eddie said, “take it out slowly and open it facing me.”

“You know who I am, Sergeant Diaz,” Fury said.

“Technically, I don’t,” Eddie countered. “You told me a name, claimed to be the director of SHIELD, but never actually showed me any ID. Speaking of which, you can provide that with the warrant.”

Neither of the men moved, and Tony scowled. “You heard the man.”

“This is just a friendly visit,” Fury said, not even attempting to sound placating.

“You broke in,” Tony said. “Don’t try to claim otherwise, because I sure as hell didn’t invite you here the first time, and never would since then.”

“We need to talk, Stark,” Coulson said. His voice was naturally - or perhaps very well trained to be - soothing, but it just made Tony angrier.

“Get out of my house,” he said. “You’re not welcome here, Fury. Ever. Coulson - you get probationary status, but only because Pepper likes you. Don’t abuse it.”

“Sir,” Coulson said, and it was clearly directed at Fury. “I can explain to Stark-”

Fury wasn’t paying attention. “You think you can order me around, Stark?”

“In my own home, when you haven’t produced a warrant? Yes.”

“If he can’t, I certainly can.”

Eddie didn’t flinch, so apparently he’d heard the newcomer approaching. Tony didn’t have that particular ability, and his other abilities had been so focused on Fury and Coulson that he didn’t feel the newcomer’s approach.

Trusting Eddie - and Steve, wherever he was - to have his back, Tony glanced over his shoulder-

-and couldn’t help grinning when he recognized the uniform of the Los Angeles Police Department. The attractive Black woman inside the uniform scowled at him, but her attention remained focused on his uninvited guests.

“Sergeant Athena Grant, badge number 1275,” she said, and Tony’s gaze flicked to the badge on her breast, then he confirmed the number aloud for Eddie and Steve’s benefit.

Grant’s gaze remained focused on Fury and Coulson. “I understand this is a break-in?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie said, not lowering his weapon or even glancing back at her.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Fury said. “I’m Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.”

“ID?” Grant demanded.

“He’s refused to provide it to us,” Eddie said, and Tony was content to let him handle the conversation. “And has refused to leave, despite multiple requests.”

“Well, Mr. Fury,” Grant said. “It seems to me you have two choices. Leave now, under your own power, or leave in handcuffs.”

Coulson, to his credit, stepped away from Fury immediately, deliberate movements so that Eddie didn’t get trigger-happy.

“Coulson!” Fury barked.

“You’ve crossed a line, Director,” Coulson said. “It’s to my shame that I followed you. My apologies, Stark.”

“Accepted,” Tony said. Not that it meant he’d ever trust the man again. Certainly not until appropriate groveling occurred, and maybe - probably - not even then.

Coulson nodded, then looked at Eddie. “You’re between me and the door.”

Eddie lowered his weapon just long enough for Coulson to cross in front of him before bringing it back to bear on Fury.

“Well?” Grant demanded, and damn if Tony didn’t feel like fessing up to every naughty thing he’d ever done. For the last year, at least. Nobody had enough time for the full list.

“This is a mistake, Stark,” Fury said.

“You made the first one,” Tony shot back as the director stalked toward the door.

*BREAK*

Eddie winced at the sheer venom dripping from Tony’s words, but he kept his attention on Nick Fury as the man left, his black leather duster swirling around his legs.

“I’m gonna-” Tony gestured vaguely, but Eddie understood.

“Go. I’ll handle this.” Eddie lowered his weapon and carefully placed it on a side table that probably cost more than a month’s salary, muzzle pointed toward the wall.

Sergeant Grant scowled as Tony strode toward the stairs leading to his workshop on the lower level. “Mr. Stark-”

“Sergeant.” Eddie cut her off gently. “Surely you felt the anger radiating - literally - from him? He’s in no state to answer any questions right now. We’re all clear,” he added quietly.

Grant arched an eyebrow. “We’re all clear?”

“There’s another person in the house,” Eddie told her, and her glare reminded him of his drill sergeant back in basic training.

Before he could even think to explain, Steve came in from the short hallway that led to the kitchen, frowning at the phone he held in one hand. His other hand dangled by his side, weapon safely pointed at the floor.

“I stopped the recording,” Steve said, “but I’m not sure what to do next.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Grant declared, her voice as cold as the ice Steve had been buried in. “In California, it’s illegal to record a conversation without all parties’ consent.”

Steve looked up, his expression shocked enough that Eddie wanted to laugh. He couldn’t, though. Not yet, anyway.

“You’re right about that, Sergeant,” he said. “But Federal law is implicated here, thanks to Stark Industries’ contracts with the military and the organization Fury claimed to be the director of, and under Federal law, only one party’s consent is needed. Mr. Stark has a blanket consent on file as to any professional conversations. I gave my consent when I asked Captain Rogers to record it, and Captain Rogers gave his consent when he began recording. The only parties who didn’t consent were the ones who were already committing a crime.”

“And me,” Grant snapped.

“You came in while recording was already in progress,” Eddie reminded her. “And we told you as soon as it was reasonably possible to do so. I’m sure Mr. Stark’s attorneys will argue that’s sufficient.”

Grant held her glare a few minutes longer - probably just to make a point - before she nodded.

“Fine,” she said. “Just don’t use it in a state proceeding - including any statement you make about the B&E.”

“Of course not, Sergeant.” Eddie felt confident assuring her of that because there was no way Tony would pit the LAPD against SHIELD. That contest would be even more lopsided than that time the Seahawks shut out the Cardinals, 58-0.

With a nod, Sergeant Grant left the house. Eddie secured the door behind her and glanced at Steve.

“You called 911?”

Steve nodded but before he could speak a low thrum signaled the reactivation of the house’s systems.

“JARVIS?” Eddie asked.

“I am awake.” JARVIS sounded almost as testy as Christopher did when he had to wake up for preschool and didn’t want to.

“Glad to have you back,” Eddie said, just as Tony stormed back into the room, something small, black, and apparently electronic clenched in the fingers of one hand.

Steve tossed Eddie his phone and moved to his guide’s side. “Tony?”

“Fury,” Tony muttered. “Yeah, he’s going to find out what fury really means.”

Chapter Text

October 23, 2015

Eddie slowed to a walk as he rounded the corner onto his street, letting the slower pace as well as the morning breeze cool his sweaty limbs. Beside him, Steve did the same and Eddie tried not to be envious of how the other man’s breathing evened out after only a few steps.

Nor of how not out of breath Steve was when he said, “You said you had an idea for me?”

Eddie snorted as his pulse returned almost to normal. “That was an hour and ten miles ago, and don’t think I don’t know you were taking it easy on me.”

Sentinel-instinct had him scanning the street, noting which cars were in their usual spots, which ones weren’t, and which new vehicles had arrived during their run.

“Well,” Steve’s voice pulled him from his scan, “you’re hardly finished recovering. I wouldn’t really push you until you’re back in peak condition, not just good health.”

“Sentinel or no, I’ll never keep up with you,” Eddie observed as he waved at Señor Galaviz, who was deadheading the rosebushes along the front of his yard. Then Eddie grinned. “But I accept the challenge.”

Steve chuckled. “So - your idea?”

“While I was brushing my teeth last night, I realized that you’re covered under the original G.I. Bill.”

Steve’s frown was clear in his voice when he said, “The what?”

“The G.I. Bill,” Eddie repeated. “Or that’s what it’s nicknamed - the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act. It’s been modified over the years - under the current version, I’m getting benefits that pay for my paramedic training.”

“Is it really so different than back then?”

“Mostly in how much they’ll pay, I think,” Eddie said. “But I do know that the terms were more generous, originally. It’s something for your JAG lawyer to look into, if they haven’t already.”

Steve nodded as they came to the last curve of the street. From here, Eddie could just see the end of his driveway.

“Today’s your date, right?” Steve asked, and Eddie grimaced.

“Not so much a date as a recon mission,” Eddie muttered. He’d finally agreed to a date with Natalie Rushman, the paralegal he thought was a honeypot, and had assumed would lose interest in him once Steve’s survival was revealed.

She hadn’t, though - at least not if her agreeing to meet for brunch on a Saturday morning was any indication - and Eddie wondered what she and her handlers at SHIELD wanted with him, now that Steve’s survival was public knowledge.

“Do you want me to hang out nearby, in case you need backup?”

“No, thanks - I don’t think they’ll do anything too horrible right away,” he added. “This is scoping me out more than anything else.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed reluctantly. “But if things go wrong, just yell. I’ll keep an ear out.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said sincerely. “It means a lot, knowing you have my back.”

“You saved my guide,” Steve said. “And you’re helping me adapt to 2015. I’ve got your back, Sergeant. Always.”

Steve gave a casual two-fingered salute before turning back the way they’d come and taking off at full speed. His full speed, not the pace he’d kept with Eddie out of deference to Eddie’s ongoing recovery.

Eddie let himself into his house and checked the time. He was due to meet Natalie, assuming that was really her name, in just over an hour. Plenty of time for a shower and a quick call to Christopher where he was staying at Tía Pepa’s house with all the Diaz family cousins too young for school as a sort of consolation prize for not getting to go with everyone else.

*BREAK*

An hour later, Eddie ended his call with Pepa and Christopher and shoved his phone into his pocket as he approached the Kaffee Café, a coffee shop not quite big enough to be a hole-in-the-wall less than a mile from SI headquarters.

Kaffee Café made Tony’s favorite coffee and it had quickly become Eddie’s favorite, too, after one too many coffee runs while Tony was holed up in his workshop and Steve sat on a sofa near him engrossed in catching up with the modern era. Eddie figured it was a neutral place for him to meet Natalie.

He opened the door that probably dated from the founding of Los Angeles - at least, not long after - and ducked beneath the low lintel as he stepped into the dimness inside.

Inside, dark walnut beams crisscrossed the white walls and ceiling, and two long tables with benches to either side framed a path to the counter, over which a menu was chalked on a slate board. Two- and four-top tables lined the far walls. While the café would be packed at this time on a weekday, that today was Saturday meant that only a handful of people had taken seats at the various tables.

Natalie, looking oh-so-artfully-casual in an ivory blouse and charcoal-gray slacks, had already claimed the farthest two-top on the right side. Steam rose from the cup in front of her, so Eddie went straight to the counter.

“Herr Diaz!” Bernd, the day shift host, grinned at him. “Your usual?”

“Just tea to start, danke,” Eddie said, exhausting a third of his knowledge of German, and nodded toward Natalie, who already had a drink – coffee, according to a shallow inhalation – in front of her. “I’m with the lady there.”

“Ist gut,” Bernd murmured, low enough that Eddie wouldn’t have heard if his hearing were human normal, as he detoured to the table where Natalie sat.

“Good morning,” he said.

She’d chosen a seat with the best view of the outside door and the kitchen door, and Eddie wondered whether it had been a conscious choice on her part as she looked up at him with a smile that seemed genuine enough.

“Hey.” She waited until he settled into the seat opposite her before continuing, “When I put the address into my GPS, I was sure there was some mistake. I thought I knew all the best places to eat around SI.”

“I think the locals conspire to keep it secret,” Eddie confided. “Every time I come here, it’s at least ninety percent the same people. Every time. Maybe that explains why this place keeps flying under the radar.”

“They don’t vote for the Best of lists, you mean,” Natalie said. “Or if they do, they don’t vote for this place.”

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned and, very briefly, wished he wasn’t certain she was some kind of spy or plant for SHIELD. Natalie was a beautiful woman, intelligent, and followed his reasoning with the slightest of clues.

Under any other circumstance, he’d be glad she appeared interested in him. Now, though, given SHIELD’s interest in Tony Stark and, presumably, Steve Rogers, Eddie couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

“What’s good here?” Natalie asked.

“Everything I’ve had,” Eddie confessed. “But I really like their schweineschnitzel and spaetzle. Assuming you eat pork, that is.”

She grinned. “I’m not a picky eater. Schweineschnitzel and spaetzle it is.”

Eddie added a flawless German accent to his mental catalogue of facts about Natalie Rushman. It was probably not important, but probably wasn’t certainly.

Bernd arrived with Eddie’s tea and left again after accepting their orders. Eddie took a swallow of tea - iced, unsweetened, and only on Kaffee Café’s menu because it was Los Angeles - before settling back in his chair and meeting Natalie’s gaze.

“How are you liking SI so far?” he asked.

Natalie’s expression flickered into regret. “Well enough so far, but I won’t be staying.”

Eddie stared at her. “You barely started two weeks ago.”

She made a sound that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t sounded so much like a sob. “Family issues don’t arrive on any sort of schedule.”

Eddie could just imagine what family issues meant in this context – assuming they were right about her being a SHIELD plant.

After the visit from Fury and Coulson, Tony had done what his father and his sentinel did before him and gone to war, only his was a war of words and lawsuits rather than weapons and soldiers.

Eddie had no need for all the details, but he’d picked up that Tony had filed both federal and international lawsuits against SHIELD and its governing body, the World Security Council, for the multiple invasions of his privacy without benefit of warrants. He’d also arranged to speak before several Congressional Committees – which testimony would likely be broadcast on one or another national news network.

Eddie couldn’t wait to see the fallout.

For now, though, he just offered a commiserating, “Sorry to hear that. I hope everything works out.”

“I do, too.”

Eddie barely heard her, even with his enhanced senses. Before he could speak again, though, Bernd arrived with their meals.

Other than Natalie murmuring that the schnitzel and spaetzle were good, they ate in silence for a few minutes. It should have been awkward, for so many reasons, but it reminded Eddie of eating with his fellow soldiers in Afghanistan, a camaraderie born of necessity rather than companionship.

And maybe that was true. Maybe they both were soldiers of a sort, if on different sides. Maybe this was what the Christmas Peace had felt like.

“So,” Natalie said finally, “I’d meant for a getting-to-know-you lunch, but I guess it’s more of a hope-to-see-you-again lunch.”

“Do you?” Eddie asked. “I mean, really hope to see me again?”

Natalie’s grin looked more practiced than genuine. “Of course.”

“Mm.” Eddie pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out enough cash to cover both their meals and a generous tip. “Maybe next time, then, you could not wear sensory blockers. They tend to make sentinels suspicious of you.”

Her eyes widened, the only sign of her shock at his words, thanks to the sensory blockers she wore.

Eddie dropped the cash on the table as he stood. “I hope everything works out for your family.”

“Auf Wiedersehen, Bernd,” Eddie called as he headed for the door.

“Auf Wiedersehen,” Bernd replied. “Next time, you bring dein Sohn, ja?”

Eddie put on the worst German accent he could when he answered, “Jawohl, mein herr.”

Bernd’s laughter followed him from the café.

Chapter Text

May 7, 2016

“It’s so hard to believe he’s five already,” Eddie murmured as he sank down onto the sofa beside Abuela.

She hadn’t so much insisted as assumed she’d host Christopher’s fifth birthday party at her house, and Eddie saw no reason even to suggest something else, so the Diaz family who lived in the LA area had converged on Abuela’s house and now sat with Christopher while he opened his presents.

Besides Eddie and Abuela, Tía Pepa had come, along with her children and grandchildren. It was the largest family gathering since Eddie had arrived in LA, and the sentinel inside Eddie felt settled in a way he hadn’t before.

Family tribe. The words came unbidden to his mind, but he set them aside to consider later, because Abuela was speaking.

“They grow so fast,” she said. “Remember these days, nieto. It will be a comfort when he’s older.”

“Way to bring down the mood, Abuela,” Eddie said with a grin.

She just shrugged. “Es verdad. I know.”

Eddie nodded, and for a moment they watched Christopher open a gold-and-white wrapped box that looked more appropriate for a wedding than a child’s birthday party.

“From Ramon,” Abuela murmured low enough that no one else would hear. “He assured me it’s perfect for him.”

Hiding a grimace, Eddie nodded to acknowledge her words and bent forward to retrieve his glass of lemonade from the coffee table and take a sip. There might be a restraining order against his mother, but that hadn’t stopped his father from sending presents for Christmas and birthdays. Eddie had discussed the situation with his attorney and they’d decided that allowing the presents wouldn’t hurt or compromise their position with respect to the restraining order. In fact, allowing the gifts showed that Eddie was being reasonable.

Christopher’s quiet scoff and immediate handing off of the contents of the gilt-wrapped package to Fernando’s youngest – the youngest of all the children present – had Eddie focusing on the gift – then scowling when he recognized it.

“Duplo,” he muttered, and Abuela raised an inquiring eyebrow. “They’re Lego for toddlers,” he explained. “There’s nothing wrong with Christopher’s dexterity, and he’s at least two years older than they’re meant for.”

Still, he noted the gift and giver in his phone, as he had the others his son had received today. None of his female relatives would forgive him if he didn’t have Christopher write thank-you notes. Or at least add his name to notes Eddie wrote for him.

“Idiotos,” Abuela murmured. “They love Christopher, but they see him as they believe he is, not as he is.”

Eddie blinked. He’d never thought of it that way before. Well, to be completely honest with himself if no one else, he’d never thought of it at all before. His parents were obstacles to be overcome, challenges to be met. He’d never even tried to consider things from their point of view.

Still, now that his grandmother had brought the idea to mind, and he suddenly felt the certainty behind it, all Eddie could say was, “Truer words, Abuela. Truer words.”

Christopher had apparently saved that gift for last – Eddie would have to ask if that had been a deliberate choice on his son’s part – and it wasn’t long before all the younger children were sprawled on the floor and engrossed in a game of CandyLand while the older cousins played Ticket to Ride at the coffee table.

Eddie figured the living room floor would be unpassable for the rest of the party, but this was the kind of gathering Abuela liked best, so he just made a note to keep an eye on her when she got up to go anywhere. Toys plus unpredictable children equaled an immense number of tripping hazards, and there was no need for the party to end with a trip to the emergency room.

“So, Eddie.”

Rafael’s voice made Eddie look up just in time to see his favorite cousin flop down in the armchair across from the sofa where Eddie sat with Abuela. Tía Pepa’s youngest child, Rafael was only a few months younger than Eddie, and the two had spent summers and most Christmases together until they’d graduated high school and gone their separate ways.

Even today Eddie kept in touch with Rafa more than most of his cousins, though most of their communication consisted of brief texts, sharing photos of their families, and the occasional meme war.

“How’s paramedic school?” Rafa asked.

“Fine,” Eddie replied automatically. “I’m doing well in my classes.”

“As you do when you put your mind to something.” Abuela patted his knee, then used it for leverage as she rose from the sofa.

Eddie held still as she stood, then started to rise himself. She waved him away.

“I walk through this house every day, Eddito.”

“But you don’t have half a dozen kids around every day,” Rafa replied. He looked over to the gaggle of cousins briefly focused on their oldest niece. “Sarah, clear a path for Abuela, por favor, and then help her if she needs it.”

Abuela shot him a nasty glare – well, nasty for her, anyway – but allowed the oldest of the cousins to clear a path for her.

“She won’t thank you for that,” Eddie murmured as the two disappeared into the kitchen.

“She doesn’t have to,” Rafa replied with a grin. “She just has to let me do it.”

Eddie laughed.

“Besides,” Rafa continued, “I know she’s usually good on her feet. But she’s not getting younger, and she doesn’t usually have a house full of people.”

“I admit, I was concerned about having the party here, but Abuela insisted and Tía Pepa said it would be fine.”

“Like your classes.”

Eddie’s humor disappeared. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Dude.” Rafa regarded him gravely. “I’m not even online yet, and I can feel how deeply uninterested you are in your classes.”

“I’m not uninterested,” Eddie protested, and got a raised eyebrow in return. “I’m not. It’s just…not as fulfilling as I’d hoped it would be, given my history.”

“What would make it more fulfilling?”

Trust Rafa, a latent guide if ever there was one, to get to the point. Eddie took another sip of lemonade, wishing it was a beer instead, to buy time to think.

“It’s not active enough,” he said finally. “When I was in the Army-” and it still hurt to say was “-I was doing more than just medical, you know? But that’s all paramedics do. I miss the more physical parts of it.”

“So you know what you need to do,” Rafa said. “Find something that gives you the physical part and lets you help the tribe, preferably using your medical knowledge. Physical therapist, maybe?”

Eddie couldn’t help grimacing.

Rafa nodded. “That’s out, then.” The tone was accepting, and Eddie appreciated it.

“It’s good work,” Eddie said. “Hell, I wouldn’t be where I am now without a team of physical therapists. But it’s not for me.”

“Mm.” Rafa tilted his head, obviously considering. “Police officer? No,” he added immediately, and Eddie wondered how he’d given himself away.

“I’ve been having dreams,” Eddie said before Rafa could toss out another idea.

“What kind of dreams?”

“They feel…not prophetic, but kind of the opposite of déjà vu. Not I have been here before, but I will be here sometime. Make sense?”

“Yeah.” Rafa shifted in the armchair so he could rest his forearms on his thighs. “What are you dreaming about?”

Bright blue eyes. But he couldn’t tell Rafa that without opening himself up to years of teasing about it. Eddie took a breath and let it out as he considered how to answer.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally. “There’s another person there, but I don’t see them clearly. I think we’re working together, because there’s a sense of…more than camaraderie. Partnership, maybe. I feel like this is the most important person in the world – which is nonsense, because the most important person in the world is sitting over there playing CandyLand.”

“Perhaps your guide?” Rafa suggested.

“I hope so,” Eddie admitted. “I also have an impression of a uniform, but I don’t know what kind.”

“Then think about jobs that require uniforms, and pick the one that appeals the most.”

Eddie snorted. “You’re asking me to base my life on a fashion sense I don’t have?”

“Not exactly. I’m asking you to look at the uniforms, and pick the one that feels most like your dreams.”

Eddie considered that for a long moment, finally summoning a grin. “How’d you get so smart?”

Rafa grinned. “Well, it’s clearly not genetic.”

Eddie shook his head with a grin. “Pendejo.”

Anything else they might have said was cut short by Abuela coming in from the kitchen carrying a cake with five candles. Sarah followed her with a stack of paper plates and plastic forks.

“Happy birthday to you,” she began, and Eddie joined the rest of his family in song, the words familiar enough that he didn’t have to think about them.

He’d wanted to talk the dreams over with Tony or Steve, but both of them were in Washington, DC, dealing with SHIELD matters, and he wouldn’t discuss that or his dreams over the phone – not even one of Tony’s spiffy state-of-the-art StarkPhones – and talking with Rafa had come more easily than he’d expected.

Rafa’s suggestion, odd as it might be, was better than anything Eddie himself had come up with over the last few days, and no matter how he considered it, Eddie couldn’t find anything wrong with the idea that his instincts were guiding him. Sure, Rafa hadn’t used those words, but the meaning was clear.

“Daddy?”

Christopher’s voice pulled him from his musing. “What is it, mijo?”

“Don’t you want some cake?”

*BREAK*

Not for the first time, Eddie offered a prayer of thanks that Los Angeles churches scheduled Sunday School at the same time as the most popular adult service – or at least the one he’d found did. The church in El Paso scheduled Sunday School after service, which meant the parents needed to stay an hour longer, or leave and come back to pick up their kids.

A lot of the parents took the hour to get coffee or brunch as a sort of date, but Eddie had always preferred to use his time efficiently. On Sundays, that meant having breakfast after church with Christopher.

While Christopher talked about baby Moses, Eddie guided his truck toward a local chain Mexican restaurant that had the best chiles rellenos Eddie had ever had, better even than Abuela’s, though he’d take that secret to the grave and as far beyond as he was allowed.

When they were seated and their orders – chiles rellenos for Eddie and a breakfast burrito for Christopher – taken, Eddie leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“So, Christopher – wanna help me with something?”

“What?”

Eddie hadn’t known his five-year-old son was capable of putting that much suspicion into one word. He clenched his teeth to keep from laughing and took a moment to steady his voice before he spoke again.

“You know I’ve been going to paramedic school?” At Christopher’s nod, Eddie continued, “Well, I don’t think it’s the right choice for me, so I’m going to do something different.”

“What are you going to do, Daddy?” Christopher asked, his eyes wide.

“That’s what I need your help with, mijo.” Eddie put a StarkPad on the table.

“That’s not mine,” Christopher said. “Mine’s green.”

And had a ton of parental controls on it, too, which was why Eddie had brought his own. “So what I need you to do is look up all the jobs that make people wear uniforms.”

“Un-i-forms? Why?”

“Because I think my next job will need a uniform, just not paramedic one.”

“Like in the Army?”

“Like in the Army.”

“You must like un-i-forms a lot.”

Eddie chuckled briefly. “More that I like what they represent – a team, a structure.”

“Okay. Can I eat while I look?” Christopher added as their breakfasts arrived.

“Sure. Just be sure to actually eat, okay?”

*BREAK*

Christopher kept the StarkPad until Eddie was chopping veggies for a dinner salad that evening. Eddie had checked a couple of times to make sure Christopher wasn’t getting into things he was too young for, but his son seemed to take his assignment very seriously.

The soft thump of Christopher’s crutches against the floor announced his son’s arrival in the kitchen. “I found the best un-i-form, Daddy.”

“Oh, yeah, mijo? What’s that?”

Christopher held out the tablet. “Firefighter.”

“Firefighter, huh?” Eddie put his knife down carefully, blade facing away from the edge of the counter and far enough back that Christopher shouldn’t be able to reach it, and took the StarkPad.

An image of two people filled the screen, a man and a woman, each wearing a dark blue uniform. In the corner of the image the logo for the Los Angeles Fire Department gleamed.

The uniform – more like a shirt and trousers, really – was just a bit darker blue than his Army dress uniform, but the fire department patch on the breast…

…the patch seemed familiar.

Eddie closed his eyes, breathing deeply and summoning the bits of images he remembered from his dreams.

It was certain. He’d been dreaming of the LAFD, even if he hadn’t known what the patch meant until just now.

He opened his eyes and smiled at his son. “Looks like I’m applying for firefighter training.”

Chapter Text

September 17, 2017

Eddie had to delay applying to the LA Fire Academy more than six months because the VA, in a stunning display of fiscal responsibility, insisted he graduate the paramedic program or pay back the tuition they’d advanced.

But he’d finally graduated, though he didn’t bother taking the certification exam because he’d already applied and been accepted at the firefighter academy.

Half the members of his academy class had also been online, which made graduating at the top of his class even more satisfying, but it was the sense of shared purpose and teamwork, much like his time in the Army, that convinced Eddie he’d made the right career choice.

Though he hadn’t expected the, well, bidding war for him between station 6 and station 118. Both captains had interviewed him and made pitches for him to join their stations. Station 6 was slightly closer to his house, so he’d accepted Captain Ogden’s invitation to tour the facility and meet the B-shift crew where Eddie would be assigned.

He barely made it two steps inside station 6 before his instincts stirred. In the back of his mind, his spirit animal whined.

Eddie had never fled a confrontation in his life, and he wouldn’t start now. So he shook Captain Ogden’s hand and followed him through the station.

It wasn’t until he shook hands with the final member of station 6’s B-shift that Eddie realized what was bothering him.

Every single member of B-shift, except Captain Ogden himself, was an online Protector.

“Why so many Protectors in the same station – and the same shift?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to spread us out?”

Certainly that’s how the Army had done it, on the basis that the more spread out the Protectors were, the more coverage they provided. The rationale made sense to Eddie, especially in a combat zone, and he wondered what rationale LAFD – or maybe just Captain Ogden? – applied.

“I want to build the best SAR team in the department,” Ogden replied.

Eddie waited, but that seemed to be all the captain intended to say. So, he prodded. “And?”

“And what better way to do that than with Protectors?”

Eddie had finished the tour with his psychic senses locked down and, as soon as he’d driven far enough away that the sentinels wouldn’t be tracking him anymore, called Captain Nash to ask about the position at station 118.

So now he was starting his first shift at the 118, which would’ve been a total win if it weren’t for the glass door and walls to the locker area. Who’d thought that was a good idea?

There was always the chance that it was simply hazing the new guy, though, so after changing into his uniform trousers in the men’s room, Eddie gamely returned to the locker he’d been assigned and turned his attention to the kit he’d been given.

Besides the trousers – two pair – he had T-shirts and both long- and short-sleeved button-ups, all with LAFD badging. He’d been told that the T-shirt was fine by itself most of the time, but for more public occasions, an overshirt was required.

He stacked the spares in the locker he’d been assigned as a voice he recognized as Captain Nash greeted several of his new teammates.

During his interview with Nash, Eddie had asked about Protectors at the 118, and Nash had responded that they had one or two on each shift. He’d then told Eddie that there was a guide on A shift, where he intended to place Eddie, and hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

Eddie almost tripped over himself assuring Captain Nash that a guide wasn’t a problem, to which Nash had replied that he hoped ultimately to partner them together. Not, he added quickly but sincerely, in the hopes that they’d bond, but because a sentinel and a guide working together had a better chance of finding and rescuing victims and survivors.

So Eddie had joined the 118 with a clear conscience and hoped for the best when it came to the guide Nash had mentioned.

“I got another DXA scan, and guess who dropped another half percent?” The voice, a very pleasant tenor, sounded pleased and satisfied with itself.

Eddie smiled to himself and stripped off the Henley he’d worn to the station, folding it neatly and stacking it in the locker to the background noise of his new co-workers – hopefully teammates – discussing the LAFD calendar.

He tuned them out, paying more attention than was strictly necessary to pulling on his LAFD T-shirt, until he heard his name.

“That’s Eddie Diaz. New recruit,” Captain Nash was saying. “Graduated top of his class just last week. The guys over at Station 6 were dying to have him, but I convinced him to join us. Served multiple tours in Afghanistan as an Army medic, guy’s got a Silver Star. It’s not like he’s wet behind the ears. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to him.”

Eddie pulled on the button-up shirt just in time for the door to open. A Black woman with close-cropped hair and wearing a bright yellow T-shirt came in, an Asian man in an LAFD T-shirt close behind.

“Hi,” the woman said. “I’m Hen Wilson, paramedic.”

“Eddie Diaz,” Eddie replied because it was polite, even if Captain Nash had already told them his name, and offered his hand. “Great to meet you.”

She shook his hand briskly, and then the Asian man stepped forward to offer his hand.

“Howard Han,” he said. “But call me Chimney – and don’t ask why.”

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie assured him as he shook the man’s hand. “Because the real story can’t possibly be as entertaining as anything I’m imagining.”

Han – Chimney – stared at Eddie for a long moment before he burst into laughter.

“Fair enough,” he said finally. “Though someday, I hope you’ll tell me whatever you’re imagining."

Eddie grinned back. “I will if you will.”

Then he focused past those two, to the tall White man with dark blonde hair and a port wine birthmark at his left eye. Even with his senses locked down, Eddie felt the other man’s psionic aura. Still, he shifted position and offered his hand.

“Eddie Diaz,” he said.

“Evan Buckley,” the man replied without raising his own hand. “I go by Buck. And I’m a guide, Sentinel Diaz.”

“I know,” Eddie replied. “But better now than uncontrolled on a call, right?”

“Yeah.” Despite his cautious expression, Buck stepped forward and clasped a warm hand around Eddie’s own...

…and a heartbeat later, they were on the psionic plane.

Buck stared at him. “You got here…really easily. Every other sentinel I’ve met, I’ve had to basically drag onto the plane.”

Eddie laughed. “Mi abuela – my grandmother – is a guide. I spent a lot of summers with her as a kid. She taught me a lot.”

Buck’s brow furrowed. “But you weren’t online?”

“Even latents can access the psionic plane,” Eddie said. “It’s harder, and I barely touched the plane most of the time, but I learned a lot. She wanted me to be prepared when I came online.”

Buck’s expression shifted into something shrewd and curious. “When? Not if?”

“She was very confident I would. And after I did, well…I lived with her a few months when I moved to LA. I learned a lot more then.”

Buck nodded, but his attention drifted downward. Eddie followed his gaze.

Mick, Eddie’s gray wolf, had appeared with a yip and, across from him, a coyote shimmered into place beside Buck. The coyote had barely solidified before the wolf was bounding over to it, clearly wanting to play. The animals touched noses briefly and then tumbled together, wrestling playfully.

Eddie blew out a breath. “We’re compatible.”

It was obvious how compatible they were, just as it had been obvious how not compatible any of the other guides Eddie had met had been, starting with Tony Stark, and not just because of their spirit animals. Where Eddie’s prior impressions of the psionic plane had been mostly just that – impressions with little to no physical form or representation aside from a mild mirror image of the landscape around him – now he saw a shimmering pale blue overlay of the world in even more detail than he saw the real world.

“Very,” Buck agreed, though he didn’t sound enthusiastic.

Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him. “What are you thinking? Feeling?”

Buck looked away. “A whole lot of things, most of which I probably shouldn’t be.”

“That sounds like a conversation or three,” Eddie said. “But not here and not now?”

“Not anywhere public,” Buck declared.

“Of course not,” Eddie agreed easily.

Buck visibly relaxed, and Eddie wondered just what had made the other man so skittish.

Eddie hoped his smile was reassuring. “We will talk. I promise. But we should get back before the others start to worry. See you on the physical side.”

A blink, and he was back in the firehouse, letting his hand drop from Buck’s as his senses readjusted to physical sensations.

Buck blinked and sent an inquiring glance Eddie’s way. Eddie inclined his head, unsure exactly what question Buck was asking, but absolutely certain that, given his seniority at the station, Buck should handle the matter.

“Yeah, Bobby,” Buck said. “We can work together.”

“Excellent,” Captain Nash – Bobby, apparently, to his crew – said with a smile.

“That mean we’re losing you for a week of sex?” Chimney asked.

Eddie stared at Chimney – whom he thought of as Chimney already to reduce mental confusion between Hen and Han – peripherally aware that Buck had retreated into himself. Eddie promised himself that the reasons for that reaction would be part of the conversations they’d have later.

For now, he took a breath and said flatly, “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what happens when Protectors bond, right?” Chimney waved a hand. “A week of debauched sex.”

“That wasn’t part of any training I received,” Eddie said. “How about yours, Buck?”

“Nope,” Buck replied, and he appeared a little more sure of himself than he had a moment before. “Bonding doesn’t equal sex, no matter what those trashy Protector novels and movies might say.”

“It wouldn’t make evolutionary sense,” Eddie agreed. “But even if bonding did require sex, it wouldn’t be anybody’s business but the Protectors involved.”

“Of course,” Nash said, his tone firm. “I think Chim was making a joke, or trying to, but it wasn’t appropriate for the workplace.”

Chimney faltered briefly, before surprise settled into…resigned acceptance? Eddie would have to ask Buck about the other man later.

“Right, sorry,” Chimney said. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“But did you mean to give me fantasies of two hot guys together?” Hen Wilson asked in a tone clearly designed to cut the tension. “I mean, I prefer girls, but still-”

“Hen.” Nash sounded exasperated, but his expression was amused.

“Sorry, Cap, but you’ve got eyes, too.”

Eddie wondered how he should react, where they were drawing the line. Chimney had clearly made it too personal, but what about Hen? He didn’t know anyone here well enough to judge, so he looked to Buck, his guide presumptive, for cues.

“You can have all the hot guy fantasies you want, Hen,” Buck assured her. “As long as I get all the hot chick fantasies I want. Deal?”

Eddie wasn’t the only one who laughed, and a tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying faded away.

*BREAK*

Eddie’s first call as a firefighter involved a man who had somehow gotten himself inflated like a balloon. Hen and Nash estimated the pressure inside the man’s body at a hundred pounds per square inch, and Eddie winced.

After assessing the situation, Nash ordered Buck to puncture the man’s skin to bleed off the gases. Without waiting to be asked, Eddie reached down to pull the man’s shirt open and then cut his undershirt so that Buck had better access.

Buck retrieved the necessary supplies and bent to work.

When Eddie saw where Buck was angling the angiocath, he said, “I’d go lower.”

Buck looked up at him. “Second intercostal space. Midclavicular line.”

Eddie shook his head. “Fifth. The chest wall is thinner, and there’s a decreased chance of hitting any vital organs. That’s how we treated collapsed lungs in combat.”

Buck just nodded and adjusted his point of entry. The cath slid in and air hissed through it.

And then the man started passing gas.

“Pressure’s gotta go somewhere,” Chimney observed.

Quickly, they got the man loaded into the ambulance and on his way to the emergency room, and Nash paused by where Eddie stood with Buck as they stripped off their gloves.

“That was a good call, Eddie,” Nash said.

Eddie nodded an acknowledgment. “Thanks, Cap.”

They clambered into the truck for the ride back to the 118 and Buck looked over at Eddie. “They teach a lot of shortcuts in the Army?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Not so much shortcuts as the most efficient methods. Time’s always of the essence in a situation like this, but in combat, it’s more so.”

“Speaking of combat,” Chimney put in, and Eddie was briefly surprised that he was still with them rather than on the ambulance. Then he remembered that Hen had ridden with their patient. “Silver Star, huh? You save a platoon or something?”

“No,” Eddie replied. “Just a convoy. The mission details are classified.”

As he’d hoped, that silenced any further questions, though he sensed Buck’s curiosity through their nascent connection. He looked up and met Buck’s concerned, questioning gaze and nodded once. He’d answer any question Buck had, later. In private.

*BREAK*

About an hour after they got back to the firehouse, Eddie decided to get a workout in. He changed into a muscle shirt and sweats, wrapped his hands, and headed for the heavy bag. Buck, he noted, was already at the free weights.

A couple of punches to the bag, and Eddie started to fall into an easy workout rhythm. He punctuated it with a roundhouse kick.

Coming back to a resting position after the kick, his peripheral senses told him that Buck had returned his free weights to the rack and was taking a selfie. Eddie couldn’t help raising an eyebrow.

“You’re in the wrong light, man,” he said.

“Some of us don’t need lighting to look good,” Buck countered, his tone a little shy of teasing.

Eddie shrugged and would have returned to his workout – oddly missing Steve as his spotter – but Chimney’s voice cut him off.

“What’d you mean by the wrong light?” Chimney asked.

Eddie focused on him. “The light in this room is flat and blue, makes you look soft. If you want to look lean and your muscles to pop, you need warm side light. I'll show you.”

Eddie had Buck’s attention, too, but didn’t focus on him as he grabbed his phone. Quickly, he accessed his photo album and showed it to Chimney.

“These are the ones I sent in for the calendar,” he said as he handed the phone to his teammate.

Chimney thumbed through the photos as Buck came to look over his shoulder. “Whoa.”

Buck glanced over at him. “It’s kinda cheating,” he said, and while it could have been mean or sarcastic, Eddie heard the amusement behind the words, “submitting pictures by a professional photographer.”

Eddie chuckled. “The photographer’s twelve.”

“Twelve?” Chimney repeated, staring at him.

“My niece,” Eddie said. “She’s a master of the iPhone filters.”

“Your niece did these?” Chimney seemed both surprised and fascinated.

“Not really my niece,” Eddie said. “My cousin’s oldest, but she calls me Uncle Eddie.”

“You think she’d be willing to take pictures for me?” Chimney asked. “I’m told I photograph like an Asian Fabio.”

Fabio? Eddie filed the name away to research later.

“I’m sure she would,” Eddie told him. “She’s planning to major in fine art photography, and she’s already starting to build her portfolio. You want me to see when she’s available?”

“Would you?” Chimney asked.

Eddie nodded, and Chimney returned to his own workout. Eddie sent a quick text and bent to return his phone to where he’d left it at the start of his workout. When he straightened, Buck was right beside him.

“You trying to get his hopes up?” Buck murmured low enough that only Eddie should hear him.

“Just trying to be friendly,” Eddie replied, equally quietly, and made a quick mental calculation. “You want to get breakfast after shift?”

Buck quirked an eyebrow at him. “You think talking at a restaurant’s better than any other option?”

“Talking at a restaurant will be more conducive to remaining civilized,” Eddie countered, and Buck chuckled.

“Sounds good,” he said, and Eddie grinned.

“You have a preference?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Buck grinned back, and Eddie saw none of the hesitation he’d seen on the psionic plane and immediately after. “We can decide at the end of shift.”

*BREAK*

The team assured him that the rest of the shift had gone about normal for the 118, which left Eddie wondering just how a guy with a live grenade in his leg could be considered normal in any sense of the word.

Still, during the ride back to the firehouse, he’d sent a text to Tony and Steve bringing up the issue of live ordnance being sold as surplus. Eddie knew it would hit a nerve with Tony at least, considering what had happened in Afghanistan, but he wasn’t prepared for the impressive string of cursing that showed up on his screen. He assumed it was speech to text of some kind – maybe JARVIS?...And now he couldn’t stop hearing the cursing in JARVIS’ upper-crust English accent – but he’d deleted the text anyway. There was no need to leave even a remote chance for Christopher to learn that at his age.

Or ever, if Eddie had anything to say about it.

Finally, the shift ended and Eddie found Buck at his locker, apparently taking an inventory of its contents. “You decide on a preference?”

Buck closed the locker and turned to him. “Yeah, actually. How about you follow me to mine and I’ll make breakfast for…not dinner, not lunch? Whatever brunch between lunch and dinner is called.”

He frowned and Eddie couldn’t help grinning. “You’re gonna look it up, aren’t you?”

“How else will I know?” Buck grinned back. “But it can wait a while. You game?”

“A little surprised you’re asking me over so quickly, but yeah, I’m game.”

Buck shrugged. “The kind of talk we need to have is…private.”

“Lots of ways to get privacy besides inviting a stranger into your home,” Eddie pointed out.

“Not exactly a stranger,” Buck countered. “The meeting on the psionic plane told me all I need to know. Not,” he added, “all I want to know, but enough that, yeah, follow me to mine?”

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

September 18, 2017

The last thing Evan Buckley had expected when arriving at the 118 at the start of the previous shift was a new probationary firefighter. Even less had he expected that said probationary firefighter would be a sentinel. His sentinel, at least potentially.

With any luck, this afternoon would confirm their suitability for each other and lead to a bond that Buck had ached for since he’d come online.

Using every technique he’d ever been taught to keep the hope burning in his chest to, oh, campfire level as opposed to five-alarm level, Buck led Eddie off the elevator and down the corridor to his apartment.

Buck stopped outside the door and slid a hand into a pocket for his keys.

“Wait,” Eddie said from behind him, just before Buck would’ve inserted his key in the lock. Buck looked back at him with a questioning gaze.

“You have a roommate?” Eddie asked.

“No – well, yeah, but she’s not here right now,” Buck answered. He managed a bit of a grin. “Part of that talk we’re going to have.”

Eddie nodded, but asked only, “You expecting anyone else?”

Buck frowned. “No. Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s water running.” Eddie tilted his head slightly, frowning in concentration. “Not like a leak, I don’t think. Maybe a shower or a bathtub being filled.”

“What?” Buck stared at him, too surprised to extend his own senses to confirm Eddie’s observation and perhaps learn more about the uninvited guest. “But – what kind of intruder takes a bath?”

Eddie shrugged. “Could be a distraction. Let me go first.”

Buck scowled. “I’m a big boy, Eddie.”

“And I’m combat trained, so if the intruder’s violent, I have a better chance of stopping them. Or at least buying you enough time to lay them out psionically.” Eddie paused. “You have had that training, right?”

He’d had that training – and a lot more. But for now Buck only nodded and silently offered Eddie the keys.

Eddie unlocked and opened the door so quietly that even Buck, who’d shifted aside when Eddie stepped forward, barely heard it. Without prompting, and feeling the slightest bit presumptuous, Buck rested a hand on the back of Eddie’s neck – the only skin exposed that wouldn’t hamper Eddie’s movement if that became necessary – hoping to ground the other man while he extended his senses.

“Definitely a shower,” Eddie murmured. “Sounds like someone’s actually in it, not just running it as a distraction.”

Eddie inhaled deeply, his shoulders expanding under Buck’s touch as he did. “Female, based on scents of makeup and a floral perfume. And there’s something…not quite familiar about the underlying scent.”

“I’ve got your back,” Buck murmured.

Eddie flashed him a quick, confident grin then strode down the hallway through the master bedroom and into the bathroom. Buck took the briefest of moments to appreciate the other man’s lethal grace before he followed.

Apparently deciding surprise was the better option, Eddie barely slowed as he flung open the bathroom door.

Over Eddie’s shoulder, Buck had a brief impression of long dark hair as the woman – and yes, it was a woman – whirled around with a cry of surprise, clutching the, thankfully opaque, shower curtain over her body.

Buck stared at her. It couldn’t be…could it?

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“That’s my line,” Eddie said flatly. “I was invited.”

“So was I,” she snapped, and that tone more than anything convinced Buck that he wasn’t seeing things. “A long time before you ever were.”

Buck swallowed hard. “Eddie.”

Frowning, Eddie looked over his shoulder and Buck hoped his expression was reassuring. Before he could speak, though, the woman – his sister – Maddie – caught sight of him.

“Evan!” Maddie all but shouted. “Who is this – this – man?”

“A friend,” Buck replied. There was no need to complicate this situation even further with explanations at the moment. “What are you doing here, Maddie?”

Hearing the name seemed to relax Eddie a little – even if he had no idea who Maddie was, just the fact that Buck knew her would help to relax Eddie’s sentinel instincts.

“I came to see my little brother. And now you’re seeing more of me than you should.”

“We’ll let you finish,” Buck said, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to tug him away.

Eddie was gentleman enough to shut the bathroom door behind him, and then the bedroom door as he followed Buck back down the hall.

Buck turned toward the kitchen, then realized that Eddie had turned for the living room. Abandoning his thought to get them each a bottle of water, Buck hurried to catch up and saw Eddie grabbing a handbag from the couch. Without hesitation or shame, Eddie opened it and searched inside, withdrawing a wallet a moment later.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” Buck kept his tone even, hoping to calm Eddie’s instincts. “Maddie’s my sister.”

“Who you weren’t expecting and who didn’t have a key,” Eddie retorted as he flipped through the wallet. Before Buck could respond, he continued, “And who has fading bruises on her arms.”

Buck frowned. “Bruises? I didn’t see any-” he let out a breath. “Sentinel.”

“Yep.” Eddie pulled out his phone and snapped a picture – presumably of Maddie’s driver’s license – before returning the wallet to Maddie’s purse, which he then dropped back onto the couch.

Then he looked at Buck, his expression and psychic tone both apologetic and determined. Buck had no idea what Eddie meant to do, but nodded permission anyway.

Eddie nodded in return and tapped his phone several times, and then Buck heard the distinctive ring of a call trying to connect.

“You trying to set me up?” an unfamiliar male voice that sounded more amused than anything else came through the speaker.

Eddie snorted. “Like you need help. No, I need a deep dive background check on her. Maiden name’s Buckley?” He looked up and Buck nodded.

“Done,” the man on the other end of the call said. “Who is she?”

“My co-worker’s sister,” Eddie said. “She showed up in his apartment unannounced and she’s got fading bruises on her arms.”

“What’s the guy’s name?” came from the phone. “Her husband, I mean?”

“Doug.” The word came out rough and raspy, and Buck blinked in surprise at the sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat and started again. “Doug Kendall. He’s a doctor and he was working in Boston a few years back. Not sure he’s still there.”

“And that’s the co-worker,” Eddie said, lowering his voice as the water in the bathroom finally shut off. “Evan Buckley, goes by Buck.”

“Good to meet you, Buck,” the unknown man said. “I’ll get on this and get back to you, Eddie.”

“Appreciate it, Happy.” Eddie ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. He looked up at Buck again and frowned. “What?”

Buck forced himself to relax his eyebrows and simply ask, “The guy’s name is Happy?”

Eddie grinned. “Aren’t you all about the nicknames?”

Buck ignored that. “Who is he?”

“I worked security for a while after I moved here, before the academy,” Eddie said. “He was my supervisor. Now he’s a friend.” He paused. “I should go.”

Buck blinked, clearly surprised. “But – our talk?”

“It’s important,” Eddie acknowledged. “But this-” he jerked his head toward the bedroom “-sounds urgent. Call or text, or we can plan for after the next shift.”

Buck hesitated for a moment and let his psionic senses sweep out over Eddie. In response, Eddie relaxed his shields to allow Buck to examine him.

After a long moment, Buck let out a breath and pulled his senses back in. Eddie really was content to let their talk wait, even if that was the last thing Buck wanted. “Okay, yeah. I’ll – I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good luck,” Eddie murmured and turned for the door, pausing to add, “See you on shift.”

The words sounded oddly like a promise, and Buck smiled an acknowledgment.

Then Eddie was gone, and the door had barely closed behind him before Maddie emerged from the bedroom.

“How’d you even get in here?” Buck asked, annoyed more that she’d interrupted what should have been private, special time, than at her actual arrival.

“I told the building manager that I was your sister,” Maddie said, her tone casual.

“And he just believed you?”

“Well, having boobs doesn’t hurt.”

Buck winced. There was no way Eddie had gotten far enough away that he hadn’t heard that, and he seemed like the kind of sentinel – the kind of man – who’d put the fear of God into the building super at such a breach of privacy, let alone security.

For the briefest of moments, Buck considered calling out to him, asking him not to. Then he blew out a breath and let that thought go. If he wanted to build a solid bond with Eddie, which he did – or, at least, he didn’t want to cut the possibility off before it even began – he had to let the sentinel perform his duty as he saw fit.

*BREAK*

Given that he wasn’t having an important but not urgent conversation with Buck, Eddie picked Christopher up from school and listened to his son chatter about his day on the drive home.

At least until they pulled into the drive-through of Chistopher’s favorite burger place.

“Why are we having burgers, Dad?”

“Because today’s a special day,” Eddie replied. Then he frowned. “Well, technically, it was yesterday, but I was at work yesterday, so we’ll celebrate today.”

“Why is today special?”

“Because I met my guide.”

“You did? Is it a man or a woman? What are they like? Do you think they’ll like me? Can I meet them? Please, Dad? Please?”

Eddie bit back a laugh. “That’s a lot of questions, mijo. Let’s get our burgers, and then I’ll answer, okay?”

“Okay.” But Christopher was bouncing in his seat, clearly excited.

When Eddie had accepted their meals, he pulled forward into a parking space.

“We’re eating here?” Christopher asked.

“There’s a table over there, under the trees.”

Eddie pointed it out to Christopher, and it wasn’t long before they had their burgers and fries spread out before them. Eddie tore open two ketchup packets for Christopher and watched as his son carefully emptied them onto the open burger wrapper.

“His name is Evan Buckley,” Eddie said when Christopher was chewing his first bite. “But he goes by Buck.”

“Buck,” Christopher repeated around a mouthful of burger. He swallowed before he said, “That’s a strong name. Is he strong?”

“Very,” Eddie said. “He’s a firefighter like me, and we work together.”

“Have you met his spirit animal?”

“That’s how Protectors know if they’re compatible,” Eddie said. “We meet on the psionic plane and see how our spirit animals react to each other.”

“That’s weird,” Christopher declared and took another huge bite from his burger.

Eddie took a bite of his own and chewed while he considered how to respond.

He swallowed and said, “It sounds weird, yes, but actually doing it is…amazing. When I met Tony, our animals…well. They don’t hate each other, but they really don’t like each other. Then when Tony met Steve… I wasn’t there, of course, but Steve told me later that their spirit animals flew off together and did some aerial ballet.”

“It’s still weird.”

Eddie chuckled. “Abuela says our spirit animals are manifestations of our souls, and their exploration of each other on the psionic plane is just translating the relationship between us into images we can understand.”

“Abuelita’s pretty smart,” Christopher said. Then, “What did Mick do with Buck’s animal? And what is it? What’s its name?”

“Buck has a coyote, and I don’t know its name yet.”

“What? But Dad, names are important!”

“They very definitely are.” Eddie chuckled and dragged a fry through the ketchup on his own burger wrapper. “But some times and places aren’t good for talking about important things. Like at school. Or on the job.”

“Oh.” Christopher’s expression said he understood, so Eddie ate the fry he’d definitely gotten too much ketchup on.

“But Mick could barely wait for Buck’s coyote to appear,” he continued. “And they started playing together right away.”

“Like puppies?”

“Yeah, mijo.” Eddie smiled. “Like puppies.” He took a breath. “We were going to talk earlier, after our shift was over, but something happened. We’re planning to talk after the next shift.”

Christopher turned wide eyes on him. “Something happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, as far as I know,” Eddie assured him. “But his sister came into town unexpectedly, so he’s with her.”

Christopher frowned, the expression looking deeper than it actually was thanks to bits of drying ketchup at the corners of his mouth.

“But, Dad – I thought the most important person in a Protector’s life was their bond partner.”

“We’re not bonded yet, mijo,” Eddie told him. “We’re compatible, but that’s only the minimum. We need to see if we like each other enough to bond, and that takes time.”

Christopher’s expression turned mulish, and Eddie tried again.

“Just because you’re in the same class with someone doesn’t mean you want to be friends with them right away, right? It takes time to figure out if you want to be friends. And sometimes, a friendship doesn’t last.” Eddie took a breath. “But bonding is forever. And you’re the most important person in my life, Christopher. I want to be absolutely sure he’s right for me and for you.”

“Okay, Dad. But I still wanna meet him.” Christopher punctuated that statement with a big bite of his burger.

Chapter Text

September 19, 2017

Buck was already at the station when Eddie arrived for their next shift, so Eddie changed quickly and headed to the kitchen where he found Buck making a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” Eddie said by way of greeting. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s…not okay, but I think she can be,” Buck replied and took a sip of what had to be too-hot coffee.

Then he gestured Eddie to the far end of the table. Lunch would be their first meal on shift today, and right now the table was empty. Eddie sat at the end and Buck sat across from him.

“Did your friend get back to you?” Buck asked. Despite their relative privacy, he kept his voice low. “Is there something going on I need to know about?”

“You’ll have to ask Maddie to be sure.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed, and Eddie held up a hand before he could speak.

“What I mean,” Eddie said, “is that there’s a pattern that looks like abuse. But it’s just a pattern, not proof. Maddie will have to confirm it, and once she does…”

“Once she does, what?”

Eddie could only shrug. “In a lot of ways, that depends on her. If she wants a divorce, to press charges, whatever – we’ll find people who can help. If she doesn’t want to do anything, then there’s not much we can do, legally speaking.”

“She left him,” Buck said. “That’s why she’s here.”

Eddie nodded and pulled out his phone, calling up his email program. “What’s your email address?”

Buck gave it to him, and Eddie attached the file Happy had provided, then tapped send.

“I just sent you everything. You probably want to read it in private.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Buck blew out a breath, and Eddie felt the shift in his mind when he looked up to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Thanks.”

Eddie started to reply, but something tingled at his awareness, and he frowned. Without thinking, he reached out for Buck.

Buck took his hand without protest, and Eddie leaned on the support Buck offered as he allowed his senses to expand, following that niggling sensation, until-

“Downstairs,” he snapped. “Now.”

Then he was on his feet, dashing for the stairs and shouting, “Evacuate!”

He’d just cleared the last of the stairs when the ground jolted beneath him. He grabbed for the railing to steady himself, offering his other hand to Buck, who was only a step behind him.

Three more jolts followed in quick succession, sending equipment sliding across the firehouse floor and toppling a rack of oxygen canisters.

“That’s at least a six!” Chimney stumbled toward the open bay door.

“Seven,” Hen corrected as she followed him.

“I got you,” Buck murmured. “Make sure everyone else is out.”

Eddie nodded and Buck’s hands settled at his hips, urging him forward and slightly right. He allowed Buck to guide him and extended his senses again, mostly scent because the rumbling of the ground shifting made focusing on heartbeats difficult.

Nash was near the exit. “Anyone else back there?”

After a moment, Eddie shook his head. “All clear.”

Nash nodded an acknowledgment, then said, “Gear up. Quake like this, we’re gonna get called out.”

*BREAK*

Less than ten minutes later, Eddie sat in the back of the engine with Buck and a firefighter named Martin.

The psionic tether Eddie shared with Christopher told him his son was alive, but no more than that. He pulled his phone from a pocket and typed furiously.

“Everything okay?” Buck asked after a minute.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “There’s no service. Texts won’t even go through.”

“Who’re you trying to get a hold of?”

That was part of the talk they’d been meaning to have, not a question Eddie wanted to answer here and now, but he couldn’t ignore the question in front of everyone else.

“My son,” he said finally. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

“You got a kid?” Buck exclaimed.

Might as well get most of it out there. Eddie called up a picture of Christopher on his phone and offered it to Buck.

“Christopher. He’s seven.”

“And super adorable,” Buck said with a grin. “I love kids.”

At his guide’s – yes, his guide’s – exclamation, verified by a wave of psionic assurance, relief settled around Eddie like a blanket. More than one guide he’d met had expressed a lack of interest in children. “I love this one.”

*BREAK*

Eddie, with Buck beside him, was assigned to search for people trapped in a collapsing high-rise hotel, so Eddie barely had the mental capacity to spare to even think about Christopher – though as they made their way floor to floor, in an effort to reassure him that Christopher was safe, Buck did offer information about the earthquake-proofing schools in the area had undergone.

Eddie appreciated the effort, especially that it continued even after he told Buck that he knew Christopher was alive thanks to the psionic tether they shared – which tether Buck would join in if they bonded. Eddie didn’t say that last aloud, but Buck certainly understood it.

Buck had said he loved kids. Maybe he wouldn’t be put off by Christopher like so many others had been.

*BREAK*

Twelve and a half hours later, Eddie followed Buck out of the 118, his steps steady rather than staggering thanks only to sheer willpower. His Protector’s endurance had given out hours ago.

Now he just had to pick Christopher up from school, pop a frozen dinner or three in the microwave, and he could collapse into bed.

Or…not.

Eddie stared at the sight before him, unable – no, unwilling, after the day he’d had – to process what he was seeing.

While he’d been out rescuing people after the earthquake, which had been determined to have been a 7.1 on the Richter scale, a tree had fallen across the back end of his truck, crushing one corner of the bed and sending the tire and shock skittering…somewhere. He didn’t see it on a quick glance and right now had no energy to spare to search for it.

“Shit.”

Buck had split off to head toward his Jeep, but now he turned back. “What-? Oh.”

He came back to Eddie and, together, the two men examined Eddie’s truck.

“Definitely not drivable,” Buck observed.

Eddie bit off a sarcastic comeback. There was no need to take out his frustration and fatigue on the other man, especially when he hoped to bond with him.

Instead, he blew out a breath and pulled out his phone. “Uber’s going to be a bitch tonight.”

He sensed Buck’s query though the other man didn’t speak. He glanced up from his phone. “I have to pick up Christopher from school and, as you pointed out, my truck’s not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, but there’s no need to call an Uber,” Buck said. “My Jeep survived. C’mon.”

*BREAK*

Thanks to fallen trees blocking streets, street lights being out over most of the route, and traffic lights having shifted to flashing red only, it was nearly half an hour after they left the 118 when Buck pulled up in front of Christopher’s school. Still, that was still less time than an Uber would’ve taken.

Eddie had the door open almost before the Jeep was fully stopped, then sprinted across the sidewalk to the doors, where he could see Christopher standing with a tall dark-skinned man Eddie recognized as one of the vice principals, though he didn’t remember the man’s name.

Christopher grinned widely when he saw Eddie, and Eddie smiled in response as he ran forward to scoop Christopher up in his arms and swing him around.

Minutes later, after a brief exchange with the vice principal, Eddie guided Christopher outside and toward Buck’s Jeep.

“That’s not our truck,” Christopher observed.

“No,” Eddie said. “A tree fell on our truck. The Jeep is Buck’s.”

Christopher paused to look up at him. “I get to meet Buck?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yes, you get to meet Buck. Let’s not keep him waiting, sí?”

Quickly, they crossed the wide sidewalk to Buck’s Jeep and Christopher didn’t protest as Eddie lifted him into the back seat. Eddie offered a quick prayer of gratitude that Christopher had finally grown enough that he didn’t need to be in a car seat as he fastened the seat belt around his son and then stowed the crutches beside him.

He slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “Christopher, this is Evan Buckley, but he goes by Buck. Buck, my son Christopher.”

“Hi, Buck,” Christopher said, grinning widely.

Eddie felt the moment Buck fell for his son. He’d be irritated that his guide liked his son more than him if pretty much everyone else didn’t have the same reaction to Christopher.

“Hi, Christopher.” Buck grinned just as widely. “You ready to go home?”

“Yes! School got boring after the other kids left. I got all my homework done, Daddy.”

“I’ll look it over when we get home, mijo,” Eddie said.

“What’s the coolest thing you learned today?” Buck asked, and that triggered a running commentary about…penguins?...until Buck turned the Jeep into Eddie’s driveway.

“Stay with us,” Eddie said abruptly.

Buck’s eyes widened comically, and Eddie chuckled.

“I don’t know how far your place is from here,” Eddie continued. “But I do know how tired I am, and I wouldn’t want someone driving in my condition. My guest room’s small, but it’ll do for the night.”

Eddie felt Buck relax at the mention of the guest room, but he only nodded and shut off the engine. “Yeah, I can do that. I need to call Maddie, though – let her know I’m okay and where I am.”

“Of course,” Eddie agreed.

He unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the Jeep to open the rear door on the passenger side so he could help Christopher if he needed it. “Did you get dinner of any kind, mijo? Are you hungry?”

“They heated up some lunches for us.” Christopher wiggled out of the seat and steadied his feet on the ground before reaching for his crutches. “But I didn’t get a snack.”

Eddie followed him to the door, carefully not listening as Buck called his sister. “Then go get ready for bed, and you can have a snack before you brush your teeth.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

As soon as Eddie had the door open, Christopher started down the hallway toward his bedroom. Eddie turned to see Buck closing the driver door of the Jeep.

“How is she?” he asked as Buck came closer.

“She’s fine.” There was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “She said the apartment didn’t take any damage, just a few knickknacks were broken in the initial quake.”

“I hope nothing of value, even sentimental,” Eddie said and gestured Buck inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “But I’m glad she’s okay.”

“You sure?” Buck asked, and his tone suggested he was teasing, or at least trying to. “You didn’t seem to like her when you met.”

“I didn’t – don’t – like how she effectively broke in to someone’s apartment,” Eddie said. “I don’t know her personally well enough to know if I like her or not. I want to, because she’s your sister, but that wasn’t the greatest introduction.”

Buck nodded an acknowledgment and blew out a breath. “I suggested she apply to be a 9-1-1 dispatcher.”

“I hope it works out for her,” Eddie said as sincerely as he could and gestured toward the hallway. “Guest room’s this way. You need anything?”

Buck held up a small duffel bag he’d grabbed from somewhere and Eddie – more shame to him – hadn’t noticed before. “I should be good, thanks.”

“Then get comfortable and meet us in the kitchen.”

Eddie detoured briefly to the master bedroom to take off his boots before heading to the kitchen himself.

He could cook, finally – at least some basic foods from all of his ethnicities – but as tired as he was, ten minutes to microwave a couple of frozen dinners was about all he wanted to deal with. Well, those and Christopher’s snack.

While he was deciding which dinners to grab – his phone rang.

He pulled it from his pocket, then grimaced when he saw who was calling. Still, it could be much worse. “Hey, Steve.”

“You don’t even know how hard it was to keep Tony here in New York,” Steve said dryly. “Are you okay? Chris?”

“We’re fine,” Eddie told him. “Christopher was at school, and LA takes earthquake-proofing their schools very seriously. We just got home, though – I was on duty.”

The sound of a brief scuffle came through the phone, and then Tony’s voice came through.

“I’m getting you a better phone. No argument – we’ve been trying to call for hours.”

Eddie chuckled. “My phone’s fine, obviously. But cell service was interrupted, and no phone was working.”

“Satellite phones were,” Tony snapped. “And I said no arguments.”

Eddie blew out a breath as Buck came into the kitchen. “Fine. I don’t know if I’ll be working tomorrow or not.”

“Your schedule says not.”

“Schedules don’t mean much in a natural disaster.”

But Buck was shaking his head. “Bobby said we’re keeping to our normal schedule. Honestly, Eddie – it’s just an earthquake.”

“A 7.1,” Eddie countered, and Buck just grinned.

There was another brief scuffle before Steve spoke again. Background noise suggested he’d put Eddie on speaker. “Who’s that with you? I don’t recognize the voice.”

“My co-worker, Buck,” Eddie replied. “We’re compatible.”

“Full name, date of birth, Social Security number if you can get it!” Tony demanded.

“Dios,” Eddie muttered. “Not before the first date.”

He ended the call and was deeply relieved that Buck looked more amused than concerned.

“How much of that did you hear?” Eddie asked.

“Most of it,” Buck admitted. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No problem – it’s part of what we need to talk about,” Eddie said and gestured to his freezer. “Pick your poison.”

“Well,” Buck said after perusing the choices, “at least it’s not just frozen dinners.”

“I keep a few for days like this,” Eddie said. “Cutting up an apple for Christopher is about my limit right now.”

“And cheese, Daddy! Remember the cheese!”

Eddie chuckled as Christopher came in and sat at the table. “Go ahead with yours, Buck, while I feed this growing boy.”

Chapter Text

September 20, 2017

Early the next morning, after putting in a claim for the damage to his truck through his insurance company’s online portal, Eddie padded on bare feet into his kitchen and stopped in the doorway when he saw Buck, clad in a T-shirt and shorts similar to the ones he himself wore, standing at the counter, mixing-

“Pancakes?” Eddie guessed based on the scent.

Buck turned to him with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I’d get a head start on breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” Eddie crossed to the coffee machine and stuck a pod in it. “But I hope you don’t think you have to pay me for insisting you stay here last night.”

“No.” Buck’s response was immediate, certain. “I like to do things for people I like, that’s all.”

“Good enough,” Eddie said by way of agreement as he watched dark liquid stream into his coffee cup.

“Speaking of, sort of – thanks for letting me stay here,” Buck said. He pressed a bit of plastic wrap against the batter in the bowl and took it to the fridge. “I hadn’t realized how tired I really was until I got in bed. I was out in seconds.”

Eddie laughed and threw away the spent pod. “Me, too.”

“So – what’s the downside?”

Eddie frowned. “Downside of what?”

“You keep saying we need to talk – and I agree, we do,” Buck added. “But your insistence makes me think there’s something horrible beneath that stupidly attractive face of yours.”

“Stupidly attractive?” Eddie grinned, and Buck’s face pinkened. Eddie sobered quickly. “I come with baggage.”

“Don’t we all?” Buck countered.

Eddie took his cup and sat down at the table. After a moment, Buck joined him, his own mug in hand.

“I came online in Afghanistan,” Eddie began.

“The same event that earned you that Silver Star?”

“A bit before that.”

Buck blinked at him, clearly not understanding. “What-?”

“A different rescue,” Eddie said. “The victim came online as a guide and I came online in response, we think because I was close by. We’re not remotely compatible, but he’s become a friend. Him and his sentinel.”

Buck took a swallow of coffee, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he said, “That who you were talking to last night?”

Eddie nodded.

Buck blew out a breath. “You know I need to meet them, right? If we’re going to bond, and they’re important to you, I need to know their psionic profiles.”

Eddie blinked, not even bothering to try to hide his surprise. “You sound certain we’re going to bond.”

“More that I have no idea what would keep us from bonding. Unless – well, how do you feel about sex?”

“Usually good, sometimes great, and on occasion mind-blowing. Why?”

Buck chuckled briefly. “I meant sex with me.”

Eddie blinked, but before he could speak, Buck went on, “I like sex. No, I love sex. You’ll hear stories at the 118, sooner or later, about just how much I love sex. I’m not willing to give it up, so if you’re not on board with that…we’ll have to figure something out.”

Eddie took a swallow of his own coffee to buy himself a moment while he extended his senses. Christopher’s breathing and heartbeat remained steady and even, for which Eddie offered a brief prayer of gratitude. Having his seven-year-old son walk in on the middle of this discussion was something he did not need. At all. Ever.

He let out a long, slow breath, and met Buck’s gaze. “I’ve never been with a man – unless you count a couple of mutual hand jobs. I grew up Catholic.”

“The Church has never spoken out publicly against Protectors,” Buck murmured. “So I don’t know what that means for you.”

“More than eighty percent of known sentinels are male, and female guides aren’t yet to parity with male guides. It’s a better than even chance that any given male Protector will have a male partner.”

“And yet the Church teaches that homosexuality – or, at least, acting on one’s homosexual desires,” Buck corrected himself “is a sin. How does that track with its stance on Protectors?”

“The bond between Protectors is a blessing,” Eddie said. “And, thankfully, takes place entirely on the psionic plane. There’s no physical intimacy, so it’s not a sin.”

“You’re shitting me.” Buck stared at him, horrified, and Eddie couldn’t help laughing.

Once he caught his breath, he said, “That’s the official line. The reality is that whatever goes on in anyone’s bedroom is private and not a matter for the Church as a general rule – unless you’re particularly strict about confession, which I’m not.”

Buck’s expression relaxed into thoughtfulness. “Sort of a religious version of don’t ask, don’t tell.”

The phrasing surprised Eddie, and then he thought it shouldn’t have. “I hadn’t thought of it that way before, but yeah.”

After a moment, Buck blew out a breath. “That covers your background in the Church. What about you, personally?”

“I’m all about the person more than the equipment. If we bond – when we bond – I expect I’ll fall in love with you, sooner or later. The sex will take care of itself.”

“Such a ringing endorsement,” Buck said dryly, and Eddie winced.

“Sorry. I’ll blame the bad phrasing on not being fully caffeinated yet,” he said, and took another swallow of coffee to emphasize the point. “But the fact remains, I’ve known you three days. Anyone who says they’re in love after three days…well, I can’t call them liars without meeting them, but the odds are against it being real.”

“I get it,” Buck said quietly, and then he grimaced. “Or, I mean…I’ve never had sex with someone that cared for me as much as I cared for them. I’m willing to wait for that with you. Not forever, but…yeah. I’m willing to wait.”

Eddie slid his hand across the table, palm up. After a moment, Buck covered it with his own, and they held fast to each other.

After a long moment, Buck said, “So, when do I get to meet this not-guide of yours and his sentinel?”

Eddie accepted the change of subject. Still, it took him a moment to sort and gather his thoughts. It didn’t take long, because a solution presented itself almost immediately.

“They’re in New York right now, and will be for a while,” Eddie said. “But I have plans to visit them this weekend during our 96 off. You can come with.”

Buck looked uncertain. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Not an intrusion of any kind,” Eddie assured him. “If it helps, Christopher’s coming, too. I’ve already arranged for him to miss school.”

Still Buck hesitated, and Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Trust me?”

Buck blew out a breath. “As a sentinel? On the job? Absolutely. Personally – it’ll take a little while, but I’m willing to try.”

*BREAK*

After breakfast, which was delicious if a little too heavy on carbs for Eddie’s taste, Buck suggested they take advantage of the weather – not to mention the unplanned school closure while post-quake inspections took place – to take Christopher out somewhere. Warmth suffused Eddie at Buck’s casual inclusion of Christopher in the plan, and he agreed readily.

Christopher voted for the park – “It’s easier for me to climb and play when there aren’t so many other kids around, Buck,” – so now Eddie sat with Buck at a picnic table with a cooler filled with deli sandwiches and bottles of water, keeping an eye on Christopher as he played.

Well, Eddie was, at least. Beside him, Buck was texting someone, just as he had been since they got in Eddie’s rental car.

Despite it being Wednesday, the school inspections meant that easily a dozen kids besides Christopher had come to the park. Still, it was better than a Saturday, when three or four times that number might be playing here.

At the moment, a girl who appeared close to Christopher’s age had joined Christopher on an inclusive whirl spinner. She was accompanied by a honey-haired woman who appeared to be about Eddie’s age and introduced herself as Chloe, the girl’s mother.

Eddie couldn’t help scenting her, and he wondered at the oddly smoky scent – not like the remains of a fire, specifically, but more like a good Scotch. Some odd perfume, perhaps?

Chloe had followed her daughter, Trixie, to the whirl spinner, promising to keep an eye on both children for that ride, if Eddie and Buck would watch the next. Eddie glanced at Buck, who nodded briefly – presumably getting the same sincerity from the woman’s words that he had – so Eddie agreed and told Christopher to enjoy himself.

Only a few minutes later, Chloe set the whirl spinning, and Christopher’s and Trixie’s laughter helped ease the lingering pain and sadness from yesterday’s shift.

Buck shoved his phone in a pocket, his text conversation apparently concluded, and looked at Eddie. “I gave Bobby a head’s up about us going out of town for our 96 off.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You tell him all your plans?”

“Only when I’m going out of town. In case something big happens, he’ll know I’m probably okay, and that he can’t call on me for help.”

That made sense. But, “Does he expect everyone to do that? It seems…excessive.”

“No. I just – it feels right for me to do that.”

“Mm.” Eddie considered briefly. “You’re treating him like he’s your alpha.”

Next to him, Buck started. “I hadn’t – yeah, I think I am.” He swallowed. “I’ll stop.”

“Not for my sake,” Eddie said. “I’m – I don’t know the right word. Pleased? Grateful? Some combination of both?”

Buck stared at him, eyes wide. “You are?”

“To be working with someone that inspirational? Of course.”

“Huh.”

They lapsed into silence, sipping from their water bottles and keeping a casual eye on the kids as they played. Christopher seemed to like Trixie, and Eddie hoped his son was making a new friend.

“I came online in Peru,” Buck said after some time. “Well, more accurately, I was brought online.”

“Trauma brings us all online,” Eddie said.

“It wasn’t trauma. It was another guide – a really powerful one.”

Shocked, Eddie turned to stare at him. Thankfully, Buck was still watching the kids.

“I didn’t think anyone could be forced online,” Eddie said.

“I wasn’t forced,” Buck said, then cleared his throat. Eddie shifted his gaze back toward Christopher and Trixie, realizing too late that Buck didn’t need or want his undivided attention – but maybe Buck did need the distance implied by not looking at each other as they spoke.

“What happened?” Eddie asked gently.

“I was bartending at a place in Arequipa’s Old Town, and one night this old man came in. He introduced himself as a guide and said he’d had a dream that told him to come to the bar that night, to meet his successor.”

“Successor? As what?”

“I don’t remember the Incan term he used,” Buck said. “The closest English word is guardian. To make a long story short, after a couple of months of talk and thinking, I agreed.”

“And he brought you online? Just like that?”

Buck snorted. “I’d never meditated before in my life, much less felt any kind of connection to the psionic plane. It took all night, and I had a migraine for days after.”

Concern flooded through him, and Eddie reminded himself that Buck was sitting here, clearly physically and mentally healthy. Still, he had to ask, “But you’re all right? You’ve been checked out by a Protector?”

“Several times,” Buck assured him, finally turning to face him again. “I’m fine, Eds.”

Eddie blinked at the nickname, and Buck looked down, his expression abashed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie said and smiled. “I like it – something just for you. Now I have to find something just for me.”

If anything, Buck looked even more abashed than he had a moment before.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I want to.”

Buck smiled slowly, and Eddie fought down the urge to find every single person who’d ever made Buck feel less than and punch them. Repeatedly.

“Slide, Daddy!”

Christopher didn’t yell, but Eddie heard him anyway. He stood with a glance at Buck. “Our turn.”

“Excuse me.” The voice was soft, feminine, and slightly breathless.

Eddie turned to see a dark-haired Hispanic woman who appeared to be a few years younger than he was. Her skin glistened with perspiration, where it wasn’t covered by a sport bra and shorts, and he remembered he’d seen her jogging around the park when they’d arrived.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Should your son be playing on that?”

Wondering what trouble his son could have gotten into in two seconds, he glanced over at Christopher. Christopher was just getting off the whirl, Chloe offering him his crutches, and the tension inside Eddie from the woman’s words eased.

“It’s inclusive,” Eddie said. “Designed for children who have difficulty with the other whirls.”

“It’s dangerous for him,” the woman said. “He shouldn’t be playing on it – or pretty much anything in the park, really. The sandbox is safe enough, though.”

Buck hadn’t moved, but Eddie easily picked up the irritation bleeding through the psionic plane from the other man. For now, at least, Buck was letting him handle it. He frowned at the woman. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Ana Flores,” she said. “I’m a teacher, and in my professional opinion, your son shouldn’t be playing on that. It’s too dangerous for a child with his condition.”

Buck made an inarticulate noise, and Eddie held out a hand to – hopefully – convince him to stay seated. There was no need to look like they were ganging up on a pretty, petite woman, especially when Eddie knew how to fight with words as well as his fists.

“I’d think very carefully about what you say next,” he said mildly. “Because you’re dangerously close to accusing me of child abuse, not to mention accusing every one of my son’s doctors and therapists of malpractice.”

Her mouth dropped open. “No, I-”

“Yes, you,” Eddie cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Every one of his doctors and therapists has suggested he do as much physical activity as he can handle, and they specifically approved inclusive playground equipment so he can mix with other kids. And here you are, saying every one of them is wrong, based on…I don’t know what you’re basing it on and, honestly, I don’t care.”

Ana flushed. “I just – I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I don’t, either,” Eddie said. “But he’s going to, no matter what I want, because that’s life. Thanks for your concern, but the next time you’re concerned, maybe you should start by expressing that rather than with an accusation.”

“Dad!” This time Christopher did yell.

“Ya voy, mijo,” he called back. “C’mon, Buck. You want climbing or catching?”

“Which means what, in this context?” Without looking at Ana Flores, Buck fell into step with him as they crossed toward the slide where Christopher and Trixie already waited.

“Being ready to help him climb up the ladder, or catch him when he comes down. If he needs help.” Eddie couldn’t help smiling at his son as they got closer. “When it’s just the two of us, I run back and forth between the two positions.”

Buck hummed under his breath for a moment before saying, “He doesn’t know me very well, so he’ll probably be more comfortable with you catching him.”

“He doesn’t know you very well yet.”

Buck grinned at that, and then they’d joined Chloe, Trixie, and Christopher.

Chloe was glaring at the woman – Ana, who had resumed her circuit of the park – and asked, “Was she bothering you?”

“Yes,” Eddie said, “but it was from a place of concern – right?” he added to Buck.

“Misplaced concern,” Buck said, “but yeah. So no harm, no foul.”

“Well.” Chloe’s tone echoed of forced calmness, and Eddie had the sense that she would’ve enjoyed taking Ana Flores down a notch or ten. “If she approaches you again, please call me.”

She reached into her pocket and handed over a business card. Eddie glanced at it, recognized the LAPD logo immediately, and read Chloe Decker, Detective.

Then she was smiling at them. “I’ll get us something from the ice cream cart.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie said, and took up position to catch the children as they came down the slide.

Chapter Text

September 22, 2017

“So the private jet hasn’t blown your mind.” Eddie leaned back in his seat as said jet touched down at LaGuardia Airport. Tony Stark’s Gulfstream G650 had excellent soundproofing, probably a result of having a super-soldier sentinel as a frequent flyer, so Eddie only had to lower his hearing sensitivity a little.

“I kind of expected it,” Buck said, unbuckling his seat belt – and immediately refastening it when Christopher frowned at him. “I mean, commercial flights aren’t comfortable for Protectors, right? Especially cross-country – five hours crammed in with a couple of hundred people can be rough on anyone. Still – this is great.”

Eddie nodded his agreement. He’d heard about some of Tony’s other jets – the one with the stripper pole, as one example – but thankfully this one was family friendly. Christopher sat at a table across from them. He’d spent most of the flight coloring or watching a documentary about butterflies on his tablet, but now he was stowing the last of his things into his backpack as they readied for landing.

“Even if I don’t understand why we had to change into our suits before we landed,” Buck finished.

“Because we lost three hours, plus the flight time,” Eddie said. “This way, we won’t be late.”

“For what?” Buck asked.

“We can’t tell you,” Christopher said. “It’s part of the surprise.”

“So you know, bud? Are you coming with us?”

Christopher made a disgusted face. “No.”

Buck looked between Christopher and Eddie, finally focusing on Christopher again. “You don’t like it? Does that mean we shouldn’t go?”

“It means,” Eddie said, “that some things aren’t necessarily appropriate for a child, no matter how smart he is.”

The plane came to a stop, and Christopher nodded at Buck.

“Now you can unfasten your seatbelt,” he said, doing the same to his.

Eddie chuckled as Buck made an exaggerated show of undoing his seatbelt. Christopher’s laughter echoed through the plane, and for at least the tenth time today, Eddie gave thanks that he’d been blessed with such a happy child.

“Will you get his crutches and our jackets?” Eddie asked. “The stairs are a little steep for him.”

“I wanna try, Dad.”

Eddie focused on his son. “How?”

“You go down before me. Buck behind.”

“Okay.” Eddie stood and headed for the exit, which was already open to the New York twilight.

He made his way down the stairs slowly, a step at a time, his senses focused on Christopher climbing down behind him. He knew he was mostly there to keep Christopher from falling if he stumbled, but he never even tried to tone down his protective nature when it came to his son.

He stepped onto the tarmac and turned to offer a hand to Christopher, but his son managed the last two steps by himself, holding tightly to the handrails. He made sure he was steady on his feet, then took a couple of steps to the side so Buck had room to clear the stairs.

“You managed that like a pro,” Buck said with a grin and offered Christopher his crutches.

“I gotta practice,” Christopher said. “’Cause I want to take a gap year between high school and college.”

“Dios, you’re seven,” Eddie muttered. “You might change your mind in the next ten years.”

“Probably several times,” Buck observed wryly. “But it’s good to practice anyway, right, Eds?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie agreed immediately. “Because you never know what life might-“

He broke off as the breeze shifted, bringing a hint of honeysuckle and jasmine to his nose. It was an odd combination, one that he hadn’t scented since Afghanistan.

Eddie whirled, intent on finding the source of that scent, stopping in place when he saw the car waiting for them…and the woman in a dark suit who was obviously its driver.

“Mills?” he whispered.

There was no way she heard him at this distance, but she grinned regardless. “Yo, Diaz! You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on!”

“Mills!” Eddie dashed across the tarmac and swept her up in his arms, swinging her around.

“Put me down! And don’t ever do that again!” But she was laughing as she said it. “At least not while I’m on duty.”

Eddie put her down and steadied her as she got her feet under her again. “Duty?”

“Yeah. I’m your driver while you’re here.”

Eddie blinked, then stared at her. “Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do.”

“So, Eds.” The teasing note in Buck’s voice sounded a little strained, and Eddie looked up to see that he and Christopher had approached. “Not like you to go running off like that.”

“I wasn’t expecting to run into an old friend. Corporal Anita Mills, my son Christopher, and Evan Buckley, who prefers Buck. Mills – Anita – and I served together.”

“So you’re a hero like my Dad?” Christopher asked.

Mills – and he really should be thinking of her as Anita, now that they were both out of the Army – smiled at Christopher.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. Your dad’s pretty special, you know?”

“I know.” Christopher smiled.

“You’re even cuter than you were in the last picture your dad showed me.”

Christopher turned wide eyes on Eddie. “You showed her pictures of me?”

Eddie couldn’t help chuckling. “I showed everyone pictures of you, mijo.”

“He was the most obnoxious new dad, ever,” Mills – Anita – said seriously, which sent Christopher into a giggling spasm.

Anita turned to Buck and offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Buck.”

“You sure you want to do that?” Buck asked, his tone light, but Eddie could feel his apprehension as if it were his own. “I’m a guide.”

“And I’m pretty good at keeping myself to myself,” Anita replied. “I won’t bleed all over you, promise.”

Buck grinned, took her hand, and then, in a move that surprised Eddie as much as it did Anita, pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” Buck murmured to her quietly enough that Christopher wouldn’t hear, but Eddie did, of course. “For everything you did to help him, to keep him safe, to bring him home – and yourself, too, of course.”

Anita swallowed hard, the click of her throat loud in Eddie’s hearing. Then she stepped back and glared at Eddie.

“What did I do?” Eddie asked.

“You could’ve told me he’s not just a guide.”

“We’re not bonded,” Eddie said reasonably, and nodded a thanks to the cabin attendant who’d stowed their luggage in the trunk of the limo while they talked.

“Yet.”

Buck looked delighted that Christopher had echoed the word and offered him a high five.

“Get in the car.” Anita crossed to the car and opened the rear passenger door. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you need to get a move on.”

*BREAK*

Eddie relaxed slightly as Anita pulled the car to a stop, put it in park, and set the parking brake. He had every faith in her skill and ability, but the sentinel in him usually preferred to drive.

He took a breath and let it out as he surveyed their surroundings. Around them, the lights of New York City glittered even through the heavily-tinted windows.

“I’ll make sure your bags are taken to your suite,” she said, meeting Eddie’s gaze via the rearview mirror. “And I’ll get Christopher settled.”

Beside Eddie, Buck shifted uncomfortably – not physical discomfort, but emotional.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Eddie said. “I know where she’s taking him, and who she’s leaving him with. We’ll pick him up later tonight.”

“Or maybe just let me sleep and pick me up tomorrow.” Christopher sounded like the pouty teenager he would be in a few more years.

“Maybe,” Eddie allowed. Then he shot a glance at Buck and grinned. “We’ll see how Buck feels about it later, okay?”

Christopher considered that for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Night, Dad. Night, Buck.”

Eddie shifted in the seat so he could hug his son. “Good night, mijo. Good dreams.”

Then he looked up at Anita Mills once more. “We’ll have coffee or something, right? Before we have to go back to LA?”

She grinned. “Yeah, Diaz – we’ll have coffee or something.”

Eddie grinned. “Good. Drive safe.”

Two minutes later, Eddie stood on the sidewalk with Buck, sliding his suit jacket on as the car pulled away. Beside him, Buck, too, pulled on his jacket, but the other man’s expression was distant.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Buck opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Eddie rested a hand on his shoulder. “If we were bonded, I wouldn’t have to ask. But we’re not – yet – so I do have to ask. What’s wrong, Buck?”

“It’s just…” Buck blew out a breath. “I asked if people call you Diaz, and you said not if they want you to respond. But she just did, and you did, and I don’t get it.”

“Oh.” Eddie took a moment to gather his thoughts. Then it was his turn to blow out a breath. “It’s…situational, with her. The military is all about surnames – which you know, since you were Navy – to the point that I think we’d been serving together six months before I found out her name’s Anita. Before that, she was just Mills.”

“Okay…?” Buck frowned. “I mean – I guess I figured that went away.”

“Not really,” Eddie said wryly. Then he sobered. “Calling me Diaz – it puts me back in the military mindset. But I’m not in the Army anymore, and while I’m a sentinel, that’s not all I am. Being Diaz…limits me.”

Buck’s expression cleared. “Okay. That, I get. I think.”

“Then you’re doing better than me, compadre.”

That eased the tension by surprising a chuckle from Buck, as Eddie had hoped. Then Buck frowned.

“Compadre?”

Eddie shrugged. “I can’t shorten Buck any more, and you don’t like Evan.”

“Compadre’s longer,” Buck pointed out. “What does it mean?”

“Originally, it’s what you called your children’s godfather. Now, it’s more like buddy or pal.” Eddie blew out a breath. “I meant it in the original sense, but the modern sense isn’t right. At all.”

“Guess you have to keep trying.” Buck grinned and looked around before asking, “So, what’re we doing here? We’re a little overdressed for the Thai place across the street.”

“But we’re perfectly dressed for the showing at the gallery half a block down there.” Eddie pointed down Fifth Avenue.

Buck’s expression shifted from surprise to confusion in a matter of heartbeats. “Gallery showing? Seriously, Eds? A private plane and a cross-country flight just for a gallery showing?”

“Not just for a gallery showing,” Eddie protested. “But the showing is the beginning. C’mon.”

Without waiting for a response, Eddie strode down the street – as much as anyone could stride in New York, anyway, given crowded sidewalks – toward the gallery.

“What’s so special about this gallery showing?” Buck asked. He’d tried to fall into step with Eddie, but the sidewalk was too busy for that, so his voice came from slightly behind.

“The artist is a friend.”

“An artist who can afford to charter a private flight? He or she must be good.”

“It was a private jet, not a private flight.” Eddie really shouldn’t be enjoying stringing Buck along as much as he was. Really. “And he can’t afford it, but his guide can.”

“The artist is a sentinel?” Buck’s surprise carried clearly. “That’s – unusual.”

“He’s an unusual guy.” And wasn’t that the truth? “We’re here.”

Thanks to Steve, Eddie knew that the New 291 Gallery was not, in fact, at 291 Fifth Avenue, as the original gallery had been a century ago, but a couple of doors down. The name remained, though, for the historical significance, and Eddie figured that was a better reason for a crazy name than most.

A reception table had been set up near the entrance. Without waiting to be asked, Eddie handed over his invitation to the attractive young woman attending the table. A moment later, he led Buck into the gallery proper.

Steve had named the exhibition Warriors, and it consisted of studies of military men and women from all branches – active duty, retired, reservists – and as Eddie made his way down the gallery wall studying each piece in turn, words like evocative and haunting came to mind.

Some studies consisted of combat scenes. Some showed obviously retired or injured service members engaged in other activities. Some depicted moments from training or perhaps downtime at their duty stations.

Whatever the scene depicted, a more detailed portrait of the main participants floated above it, combining portraiture with the details of military life, each one rendered with graceful skill and an eye for detail that could only come from a sentinel.

“Damn,” Buck muttered as they came to the fourth – or maybe fifth? Eddie wasn’t counting – painting. “The artist is good.”

Eddie agreed wholeheartedly, and not just because over the years Steve had sent one or two concept sketches asking for Eddie’s opinion. Not that he had a clue why Steve cared about his opinion; Steve would’ve been better off asking for Sarah’s opinion. Still, Steve had asked, so Eddie answered.

Now, seeing the finished works, Eddie was even less sure why Steve had wanted his opinion. Every image he’d seen so far brought a lump to his throat. The respect for service members – of which Steve himself had been one, of course – shone through in every brush stroke.

“He is,” Eddie agreed. “But I like the concept sketches better.”

“Wait – you saw the concept sketches? How?”

“I saw a few,” Eddie answered, glancing over his shoulder at Buck. “I told you we’re friends, right? But if you’re asking why he sent them, I have no idea.”

“Because I knew you’d give me your honest opinion.” Steve’s voice came from Eddie’s other side. Eddie had felt his approach, but hadn’t registered it as being quite so close – a testament to the friendship they’d formed in the weeks after Steve’s return from the ice.

“Of course,” Eddie agreed easily, turning to face his friend. “I just doubt my opinion meant much.”

“It did – does – to me.”

Eddie ducked his head, oddly uncomfortable at the simple certainty in Steve’s tone. But the manners his mother had drilled into him wouldn’t let him avoid much for long.

He straightened and cleared his throat. “Evan Buckley, this is Steve Rogers, my friend and the artist exhibiting tonight. Steve, my guide, Evan. He goes by Buck.”

“Your guide?” Steve asked, and the tone wasn’t rude, merely curious. “I don’t sense a bond?”

“Not yet,” Buck said, his voice remarkably steady. Or perhaps he just hadn’t recognized Steve yet. “Soon, though. Pleasure to meet you.”

He offered his hand and, after the most minute of hesitations, Steve took it. “Good to meet you, too.”

“I love your work,” Buck said. “It’s…I don’t have words, but they touch you, you know? That’s more than talent. That’s a gift. Thank you for sharing it with the rest of us.”

Steve swallowed, and for a moment Eddie saw an echo of the shy man he’d been before the serum. “Thank you for the kind words.”

“Kind?” Buck blinked. “Okay, maybe – but true, too. At least to me.”

Rescuing Captain America from an uncomfortable-to-him social situation had not been on Eddie’s to-do list today, but he added it now.

“These are all real people, right?” he asked. “And real events?”

“Yeah.” Steve lit up with enthusiasm. “I went to the VA, found some support groups, talked to people.”

“And they opened up to you more than they would anyone else,” Buck surmised.

“They opened up to a fellow veteran,” Steve said. “And it’s my honor to bring their stories to life.”

“And our honor to witness those stories,” Eddie murmured.

“You have a story, too,” Buck said pointedly.

“Not nearly as bad as many of the ones in these paintings,” Eddie countered. “I got off easy, all things considered.”

“Easy or not, it’s still your story.” Steve rested a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezed gently.

Eddie nodded once, the only acknowledgment he could make that wouldn’t detract or distract from the evening’s festivities.

Steve let his hand fall. “I’m told I should mingle. See you fellas around.”

With a grin and a nod, Steve melted into the crowd.

Eddie smiled to himself as he began a mental countdown. Five. Four. Three…

“Eds,” Buck began breathlessly. “Eddie. Steve Rogers. Veteran. Was that really Captain America?”

Eddie couldn’t resist drawing the suspense out a little. “And if I said yes?”

“I’d ask how you met him, and…what the hell, Eds?” Buck’s expression appeared caught somewhere between astonishment and disbelief.

Eddie laughed and accepted a flute of Champagne from a passing server. Two flutes, actually, as Buck looked like he needed a drink.

Eddie passed one of the flutes to Buck. “Breathe, Buck.”

Buck took the flute and a deep breath, letting the breath out slowly, then another. Finally, he met Eddie’s gaze. “Okay. My mind’s kinda blown.”

Eddie hoped his grin was as wickedly evil as he intended. “And the night’s still young.”

Chapter Text

Tony Stark liked to make an entrance.

Or, at least, he’d grown accustomed to the idea that he should make an entrance.

Tonight, though, was about Steve, so rather than arrive after the reception opened, Tony had come to the gallery with Steve earlier and commandeered one of the sales offices, where he caught up on the administrative tasks he could never get rid of entirely, no matter how much of the load Pepper shouldered.

Finally, his phone buzzed gently, the alarm signaling that he should get out onto the gallery floor for the big reveal.

For once, Tony had no idea what piece would be the big reveal. He’d seen most of the works in the exhibition, of course – maybe all, but he honestly hadn’t paid attention to which were going in the exhibition and which weren’t – but Steve had deliberately kept him from seeing one.

“I want it to be a surprise,” he’d said, and Tony would do a lot for his sentinel that he wouldn’t do for anyone else.

So he’d exerted an immense amount of self-control, if he did say so himself, over the last few weeks and not even gone near the piece that would be revealed tonight. He’d even made sure to distract himself while Steve was working on it so he wouldn’t be tempted to spy on it through their bond.

Now, as he straightened his suit jacket, Tony hoped he liked the painting as much as Steve appeared to think he would.

At the end of the short corridor that led from the offices to the main floor, Tony paused and extended his psionic senses. Doing so had become habitual any time he was going anywhere new, or anywhere a group he didn’t know had gathered.

He didn’t expect anything unusual tonight – it was a gallery exhibition, after all – but still he checked, just to be sure.

He found Steve immediately and exchanged a brief psionic touch with him before Steve returned to speaking with the gallery owner, then spread his senses wider. Tony found a very amused Eddie Diaz next, and Eddie’s amusement made him smile a little. He and Eddie had a similar sense of humor, and he looked forward to finding out what had Eddie amused this evening.

Then – and how had he not felt this sooner? – Tony felt the presence of another guide. His first impression was of controlled power. His second was that the other guide might be even more powerful than he himself.

Eddie Diaz’s amusement would have to wait.

Tony threaded his way through the crowd, snagging a flute of champagne on his way, projecting a subtle nobody special vibe to discourage anyone from recognizing him or making a scene if they did.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find that the guide stood with Eddie Diaz, both of them studying a painting of a female soldier in a hospital bed. From this angle, all Tony could tell of the guide was that he had short dark blonde hair, broad shoulders, and stood a couple of inches taller than Eddie.

“She met us at the airport,” the man was saying. “And you served with her?”

“She’s one of the people I pulled out of the helicopter,” Eddie replied quietly. “The incident they gave me the jewelry for. I – didn’t really see her, after. I mean, I was in pretty bad shape, myself, and then I was discharged.”

“I’m surprised the Army didn’t bend over backwards to try to keep you.”

“They tried,” Eddie replied. “But the injuries were severe enough that they couldn’t justify it. And I didn’t push to stay in – I wanted to get home to Christopher.”

That was as good an opening as Tony was likely to get, so he closed the distance to them. When he got close enough, he asked, “How is everyone’s favorite ray of sunshine?”

Both men turned to face him, and now Tony saw that the guide – Eddie’s guide, presumably, though he didn’t sense a bond between them – had bright blue eyes and a port wine birthmark over his left eye. He also, at the moment, wore a somewhat dumbfounded expression.

“Probably already asleep, thanks to traveling all day,” Eddie replied with a grin. He sobered momentarily. “Buck, Tony Stark. Tony, my guide, Evan Buckley. He prefers Buck.”

“Good to meet you, Buckley,” Tony said. He’d come up with a proper nickname for the other guide later. Probably. He still hadn’t nicknamed Eddie, which was unusual for him.

Buckley managed, “Uh – and you, Mr. Stark.”

“Mind fully blown?” Eddie asked casually, though he couldn’t quite hide a smirk.

“Yeah,” Buckley admitted. “You were right. Mind blown.”

Eddie’s smirk became a self-satisfied grin, and Tony resolved to find out what that was about.

Before he could ask, though, the clink of metal against crystal echoed through the room. Eddie winced, and Tony couldn’t say he found the sound altogether pleasant, either.

But it did what it was meant to do by silencing the crowd and pulling them toward an accent wall near the back of the gallery, where black curtains concealed, presumably, the painting Tony hadn’t yet seen.

Abandoning Eddie and his guide for the moment, Tony slipped through the crowd once more, so that he could be close to Steve if needed.

The gallery owner, a polished woman Tony knew to be in her late forties though she looked about ten years younger, smiled as she set aside the spoon she’d tinged her glass with.

“First, I want to thank you all for coming,” she said.

Tony held back a snort, but only because letting it out would probably dispel the nobody here vibe he still projected. Nobody who’d gotten an invitation to Steve Rogers’ first gallery showing would’ve refused it without a fantastic reason like, say, a heart attack.

“We all know about Captain Steve Rogers’ military service,” the owner – Terri? Teresa? Something like that – said, her smile slipping into a more somber expression. “Of his heroism with the Howling Commandos, and ultimately of his sacrifice in the line of duty.”

There was a spattering of quiet applause and a few murmurs, as though nobody entirely knew how to react to her words. Tony reached out to touch Steve psionically, in case his sentinel needed comfort or reassurance or anything, really, but Steve seemed settled and comfortable, so Tony tried to focus on the gallery owner – Terri, for sure – as she spoke again.

“More recently,” and now Terri’s smile was back, “we all rejoiced at his unexpected return, alive and well.”

This time, the audience knew what to do – applaud with genteel enthusiasm. From where he stood to Terri’s left, Steve nodded an acknowledgment, and the noise subsided.

“What we didn’t know,” Terri continued, “is that, once upon a time, Steve Rogers wanted to be an artist. He spent hours in museums, studying the masters and, when he could afford it, buying paper, pencils, and paints to practice his own skills. Unfortunately, the Great Depression meant he had to focus on other things – and then the war came, and he never had the chance to develop his talent.”

The crowd aww-ed, and Tony winced at the embarrassment on Steve’s face. Steve might be somewhat used to being a celebrity, but Terri was telling personal things. Tony understood the need to sell the art by selling the artist, but Steve apparently hadn’t realized that was a thing this century.

“Now, though-” Terri’s smile was back in full blinding force “-he’s had the opportunity to do just that. Tonight, we’re proud to host the exhibition of Warriors, a collection of Captain Rogers’ portraits of many of our brave servicemen and women, showing their lives as only a fellow warrior can. You may have seen some of these portraits before, on the covers of various military and news magazines-”

Tony would bet all of Howard’s money that no one in the room – with the exception of him, Eddie, and maybe Eddie’s guide – had. Ever.

“And tonight, I’m very pleased to present the newest addition to the Warriors collection, a piece Captain Rogers told me has special significance for him. Ladies and gentlemen, Rescue.”

With a graceful but unnecessary flourish, Terri pulled the cord to open the curtains concealing the painting.

Tony had resolved to like – or at least appreciate – whatever this final piece was, despite not knowing even its title, because Steve had painted it. Partners supported each other, right?

He wasn’t prepared for his own face to be staring out of the painting.

Even more surprisingly, Eddie Diaz’s portrait took up the corner opposite Tony’s own – and instantly, exactly which rescue the title referred to was obvious.

The painting depicted the moment that Eddie fell to his knees beside Tony that day in Afghanistan, the bits of that first set of makeshift armor leading the eye toward the two figures that took pride of place.

Tony could only stare at it as fragments of memories of that day surfaced in his mind – and not just that day, but the days before it, the determination to save himself if no one else would or could, and the grief at Yinsen’s death that drove his ultimate destruction of the terrorist camp.

Before he could break down, a warm hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. He didn’t have to look up to know Eddie Diaz had come to stand beside him.

“Will you tell us why this painting means so much to you, Captain?” Terri asked, her voice unusually somber.

“So many reasons,” Steve said, drawing Tony’s attention away from the painting. Eddie’s hand remained on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the other man’s steady presence.

“Some of them are selfish, I suppose,” Steve continued with a self-deprecating grin. “We all know the contributions Tony Stark has made to clean energy, philanthropic work, and protecting and defending our troops overseas – they wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t made it out of Afghanistan. More importantly to me, if he hadn’t made it out of Afghanistan, I’d still be buried in ice.”

Tony winced at the thought, and Eddie squeezed his shoulder.

“Not that I’d know that if I were,” Steve continued with a chuckle. “But I would want to be home, to be buried with my family, not somewhere in Greenland. As it is, I’m very pleasantly surprised – and grateful – to be alive to paint this as thanks to the man who has become my partner in life, and to the team who brought him home.”

The applause hit him like a wave, and Eddie’s hand tightened on his shoulder – not in reassurance this time, but in the grip he’d used when he’d been one of Tony’s bodyguards, the grip that would let him hustle Tony out of the room quickly if needed.

Tony appreciated the sentiment, even if it was misplaced in this crowd of wealthy art patrons, but his attention was on Steve.

Steve held his gaze long enough, intensely enough, that heat pooled in Tony’s gut.

Then Steve strode down from the dais and past him to wrap Eddie in his arms, his murmured, “Thank you,” barely reaching Tony over the still-clapping crowd.

Before Tony registered what was happening, Steve had pulled him away from Eddie to embrace him, the touch deepening their psionic connection.

Then Steve’s lips were on his, and Tony forgot where he was.

*BREAK*

It wasn’t until they’d gotten to Stark Tower, checked on Christopher in the child care suite, ridden the elevator to an apartment on the seventy-fourth floor, closed the door behind them and activated the white noise generators for privacy – more to keep Eddie from hearing whatever Steve and Tony might be doing than anything else – that Buck finally cracked.

“What the hell, Eds?”

Eddie grinned as he undid the knot from his tie and slid the silken material from around his neck. “Can you be more specific?”

“Right. Okay. Specific. I can be specific.” Buck blew out a breath and shed his jacket, tossing it over the back of an armchair. “I get that you were part of the team that rescued Stark. How did you get from there to here?”

Eddie shucked his jacket in turn, laying it neatly beside Buck’s.

“You want a beer?” he asked. “Or something stronger?”

“Beer’s fine. Don’t avoid the question!”

“I’m not,” Eddie protested. “Just being a good host. Get comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

He headed for the kitchen, dropping his cufflinks onto the end of the bar and rolling up his sleeves before he opened the fridge.

As expected, it was well stocked – including his favorite brand of beer. He pulled out two bottles, forced himself not to open them off the edge of the kitchen counters but instead find and use a bottle opener, and headed back to the living room.

Buck had lined his shoes up beside the armchair where their jackets and ties had ended up, so Eddie toed his off there as well and crossed to the sofa where Buck had claimed one corner.

Eddie handed him the bottle and took the other corner, shifting his position so that he faced Buck. Buck mirrored him.

“So?” Buck prompted.

Eddie took a swallow of beer, savored the hoppy, wheaty taste, and dove in. “That rescue before the one I got the Silver Star for, when I came online? It was when we rescued Tony from Afghanistan.”

Buck stared at him. “And you’re not compatible?”

Eddie chuckled. “He and I couldn’t be less compatible, psionically, if we set out to be. I’ve told you that before – you don’t need to be anxious about my relationship with him.”

Buck relaxed so subtly that even Eddie’s enhanced senses almost missed it, but he kept any relief from his tone when he spoke. “Okay. That’s step one. Step two?”

“Step two began with a knock on my door the day I woke up to find my wife had left me overnight. I’d just gotten home, not even halfway recovered from combat injuries, and suddenly, I had a disabled four-year-old to take care of when I could barely take care of myself.”

Eddie told him everything – the search for Steve Rogers, helping Steve acclimate to the modern world, the divorce from Shannon and the issues with his parents, the move from El Paso to LA, working for SI while he trained to be a paramedic, then ultimately joining the fire academy, leaving out only those things personal to Steve or Tony that weren’t his to tell.

By the time he finished, his bottle was empty. He rose and held out his hand for Buck’s. “Another?”

Buck handed his bottle over with a shake of his head, and Eddie padded on stocking feet back to the kitchen to rinse the empty bottles and put them in a recycling bin.

Buck still hadn’t said anything by the time Eddie sat back down, the few feet of upholstery separating them seeming infinite. Even Buck’s psionic profile was still.

When the silence stretched uncomfortably long, Eddie cleared his throat.

“I get it,” he said softly. “It’s a lot, and I understand if you can’t-”

“Eddie – Eds – no, that’s not-” Buck broke off with a harsh sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It’s just – how-”

He took a breath, then held out a hand. Eddie raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Please, Eddie,” Buck murmured. “I need for us to be private for this. Completely private.”

Eddie took his hand, and a moment later found himself on the psionic plane with Buck and their spirit animals. Unlike their first visit to the plane, this time their spirit animals simply sat next to each other, their bodies pressed together.

Buck ran a hand through his hair, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. “It’s not that you’re best buds with Tony effing Stark and Steve effing Rogers, Eddie. Honest.”

“But it’s something,” Eddie declared flatly.

“It’s-” Buck waved that hand in a helpless gesture. “How am I supposed to live up to that?”

“Buck,” Eddie began, then corrected himself. “Evan. There’s nothing to live up to.”

“Iron Man and Captain America!”

“Tony and Steve,” Eddie said quietly. “And it’s not like I asked Tony to belly flop into my life.”

Buck snorted a laugh, but his eyes remained serious. “I’m just a failed savior sibling, you know? I don’t deserve any of this.”

“I didn’t know, and we’ll talk about it - but you think I do? Deserve it, I mean?” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think so; I’ve just learned not to argue with Tony. And honestly – for all that he’s Tony Stark, he’s still just…well, just Tony, a guy who likes beer and whiskey, who’ll argue whether Kravitz or Campbell is the better guitarist for hours. Who likes to tinker in his workshop more than almost anything else in the world. And who sometimes flies around looking like the very model of a modern techno-marvel Gryffindor.”

Buck laughed again, unwillingly, and Eddie took a step closer to him. He flinched, but didn’t back away.

“Evan.” Eddie offered a hand, palm up, and, with sudden and complete certainty, spoke the old words. “I would bond with thee, guide.”

“You can’t possibly want…” Buck’s voice trailed off and Eddie heard the unspoken final word: me.

“I would bond with thee, guide,” he repeated. “Will thou have me as thy sentinel?”

“Even knowing that I failed the thing I was born for?”

“Evan.” Eddie blew out a breath, though that action had no physical manifestation on this plane. “I don’t know the details, but I do know that you are not responsible for any treatment that didn’t work. How could you be? That would be like everyone in California being responsible for the earthquake.”

“Some people would say that,” Buck muttered.

“And some people are ignorant, or else just assholes,” Eddie said fiercely. “If the situation was so desperate that your parents resorted to that, the odds were against it from the start. Honestly, if it had succeeded, it would’ve been a miracle.”

“You think so?” Buck asked, his tone reminding Eddie of Christopher during his toddler years.

“I know so.” Eddie put all the certainty into his words that he could. “It’s never your fault, no matter what anyone else says.”

Buck looked at the hand Eddie still held extended.

“We agreed to wait until we were comfortable with each other,” Buck said. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve rarely been more certain,” Eddie declared. “You’re a good man, Evan Buckley. My son adores you, and you feel the same about him, which is all that I could want from a life partner. If we wait or we don’t, my choice is still the same. I would bond with thee, guide. Will thou have me as thy sentinel?”

Buck drew a shaky breath. “I would bond with thee. I would have thee for my sentinel.”

Eddie stood still, waiting, and after a moment, Buck offered his opposite hand to Eddie. In the same moment, they clasped both pairs of hands. A heartbeat later, each of them took a step forward, and in the next instant, their spirit bodies had joined.

In all the training Eddie had had, whether from his grandmother or any other source, no one had ever told him what to expect when he bonded except that it would be intense and his life would never be the same afterward.

Now he understood why. Beyond the oddity of knowing another person as well as he knew himself, or even better, the experience felt deeply, intimately, private. Even if he could find words to describe it, he’d never speak them aloud to anyone else, not even his son.

Maybe your son.

The thought wasn’t his, and he swallowed hard at the intimacy inherent in Buck’s offer.

Maybe, he thought back. But it’ll be like the sex talk on steroids.

Buck’s amusement solidified into laughter as their spirit bodies separated, though they remained closer than they had been before, and Eddie couldn’t help smiling in response.

They stayed like that for a long moment, hands clasped at their sides. Then Buck sobered, just briefly.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, and before Eddie could ask what for, Buck pressed his lips to Eddie’s.

Oh.

Eddie responded without conscious thought, deepening the kiss, then dropping Buck’s hands only to pull the other man closer, as though to merge again.

They didn’t, though – too lost in the sensation of each other, the psionic reflection of the physical action, to focus the intent to merge.

After too long and still not long enough, the kiss ended, and Eddie met Buck’s apologetic gaze.

“Hey, none of that,” Eddie said firmly.

“I just – I shouldn’t have done that without asking, but it felt right,” Buck said.

“It was right,” Eddie assured him. “I could’ve stopped if I’d wanted.”

He leaned in for another kiss, shorter but no less sweet than the first one.

“It is right,” Eddie said when their second kiss ended, the instant depth of their bond fueling his certainty. “Everything we do together is right.”

The psionic plane carried his meaning better than mere words ever could. Buck stilled. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Eddie confirmed, though he flushed with embarrassment before adding, “even if I’m not ready to…do…everything just yet.”

“It’s not that hard, Eds,” Buck said gently. “Humanity – Protector or otherwise – has been doing everything since the dawn of time.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “I know. I just – don’t want to disappoint you.”

Buck’s smile was like the dawn. “Promise that we’ll work on things together, and you’ll never disappoint me.”

It was an easy promise to make, and Eddie sealed it with another kiss.

Chapter Text

September 23, 2017

Pleased satisfaction lingered when Eddie woke the next morning. Transitioning from intimacy on the psionic plane to intimacy on the physical plane had happened more easily than he’d expected – probably thanks to their bond, which made caring for Buck as a person far simpler than Eddie had thought it could ever be – and in the privacy of his own thoughts, carefully shielded from his guide, he could admit Buck had been right.

There’d been no need for embarrassment or shame as he and Buck had explored each other, making out like teenagers. He’d been an eager student and Buck a patient teacher, and he looked forward to expanding his education soon.

Now, though, he stretched and rolled out of bed. The space next to him was empty and cool, but he easily found Buck’s heartbeat. Judging by the scents of coffee and bacon, Buck was making breakfast. Eddie wouldn’t keep him waiting any longer than necessary.

He completed his morning ablutions quickly, then pulled on a T-shirt and lounge shorts. Sleeping naked, wrapped in his guide’s arms, felt entirely natural, but he had no idea when Christopher would return from the nursery-cum-daycare and would prefer to be dressed whenever he did.

Eddie followed the scent and sizzle of frying bacon to the kitchenette, and he saw that Buck had clearly decided that a pair of sweatpants was sufficient. Not that Eddie would ever object to an opportunity to touch his guide’s skin.

He did exactly that as he came up behind Buck where he stood at the stove, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist and dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

“Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” Buck returned. “As soon as I shut off the privacy field, someone named JARVIS asked if it was okay for Christopher to come up.”

“Good morning, Sergeant,” JARVIS said. “The young master is just now getting into the elevator.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Eddie said. “Are Steve and Tony conscious yet?”

“The captain has gone for a run,” JARVIS replied, “and Sir is indulging in a lie-in. Shall I wake him?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Eddie assured him. “It’s just habit to ask.”

“You are no longer Sir’s bodyguard,” JARVIS said.

“Old habits die hard,” Eddie said with a grin.

“Indeed.” And there was the dry tone Eddie had learned to appreciate. “Also, Miss Mills asked if she could visit.”

Eddie shifted so he could see Buck’s face. “Okay with you?”

“Sure,” Buck agreed easily as he turned the bacon in the pan. “But if the talk turns to war stories, I’m taking Christopher somewhere else.”

“Anytime after breakfast is good for her, then,” Eddie said. “Unless Tony or Steve have plans we’re not aware of. Correction – plans involving us that we’re not aware of.”

Because Tony Stark always had plans. Eddie suspected Steve did, too, though their conversations rarely turned in that direction.

“Sir wishes me to inform you that your evening is taken,” JARVIS said. “But your day is, I quote, wide open for whatever you want to get up to.”

And while that sounded reasonable enough, Eddie knew to ask for details. “When does our evening begin?”

Buck raised an eyebrow at him as he took up the bacon, placing it on a plate he’d lined with paper towels. Eddie just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Six p.m.,” JARVIS answered.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Eddie said as the door to the apartment opened.

“Morning, Dad,” Christopher called.

“Kitchen, mijo,” Eddie called back. “Buck’s making…scrambled eggs, it looks like. With bacon.”

“Eggs however you want them,” Buck corrected. “Which is how, Christopher?”

“I like scrambled.” Christopher came into the kitchen and hugged Eddie. He was wearing the clothes he’d worn for the flight, but they looked and smelled freshly laundered. Eddie assumed there’d been pajamas available in the nursery.

“How was your night?” Eddie asked, draping an arm around his son’s shoulders. “And scrambled is fine for me, too.”

“It was great,” Christopher said, watching intently as Buck cracked eggs into a large bowl and added a dollop of heavy cream. “We started building robots.”

Before Eddie could ask for details, Buck whirled and stared at Christopher for a long moment before turning his astonished gaze to Eddie.

“I thought he was at a daycare,” Buck said, then shook his head. “Well, a daycare with overnight services.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s as good a description as any – but you have to remember that this is a daycare designed for employees of Tony Stark.”

“Which means what?” Buck asked, turning back to whisk the eggs.

“It means that the activities they have aren’t limited to just story time,” Eddie said dryly.

“We have story hour sometimes. And sometimes, we play games,” Christopher said. “But last night, we wanted to build robots. We’re going to finish them today.”

“I’d be a bad parent if I didn’t show you something, I don’t know, cultural or educational while we’re in New York,” Eddie pointed out.

“Da-ad.”

“One thing,” Eddie said firmly. “And tonight you can finish your robots before we fly home tomorrow.”

Christopher sighed dramatically. “Fine. Can JARVIS make a list for me to pick from?”

“Certainly, young sir,” JARVIS answered. “I shall ensure we have sufficient time to discuss the matter, but for now, it appears your eggs are done. Enjoy your breakfast.”

A glance told Eddie that Buck was indeed plating their scrambled eggs, accenting each plate with a few slices of bacon.

Eddie helped Christopher settle at the table while Buck brought their plates. It felt incredibly domestic in a way that none of his mornings with Shannon ever had. Eddie decided to think about that later.

Once they were settled and Christopher had scarfed half of his eggs and two slices of bacon, Eddie cleared his throat. The sound drew both Buck’s and Christopher’s attention, but he focused on his son when he spoke.

“Buck and I bonded last night.”

“That’s like getting married, right?” Christopher asked.

Buck waved his fork in Eddie’s direction. “You’re the only one of us who can answer that.”

Eddie glared at him, but Buck only grinned back. With a shake of his head, Eddie turned to his son.

“On the surface, from the outside, yeah – it looks a lot like marriage. Are – you okay with that, mijo?”

“I like Buck.”

Which wasn’t really an answer, and their bond told him Buck realized that, too – and also that Buck was ready with a response, so Eddie took a bite of eggs.

“I’m not trying to replace your mom,” Buck said quietly.

“Good,” Christopher said firmly. “I miss her, sometimes, but we’re doing fine without her.”

“Do you want to see her?” Eddie asked cautiously.

He’d had no time, and very little thought, for Shannon since he’d signed the final divorce papers. He hadn’t even gone to the custody hearing, preferring instead to let his lawyer handle that, including a pointed barb of, “The former Mrs. Diaz made her intention clear never to see Mr. Diaz or young Christopher ever again. Mr. Diaz is simply honoring that.”

That barb had led the judge to issue the restraining order against Shannon, and Eddie had never felt a need to change things. But if Christopher wanted to see her…

“No,” Christopher said firmly. “She left, and she hasn’t tried to see us again.” He paused and looked at Eddie. “Has she? Other than that time with Cap’n Steve?”

“I would’ve told you if she had,” Eddie said. “I promise. I may not want to see her again, but if she wanted to see you, or you wanted to see her, I’d talk to the lawyers and do everything I could to make it happen, restraining order or no.”

Christopher nodded. He finished off his bacon, wiped his fingers on his napkin, and slid off his chair. A moment later, he’d rounded the table and put his arms around Buck.

“I’m glad you’re Dad’s guide.”

Eddie wouldn’t have heard the words if he weren’t a sentinel, and he smiled as Buck hugged Christopher back.

“I’m glad, too,” Buck said, “because that means I get you in the bargain.”

Christopher laughed and came around to hug Eddie. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, mijo.”

Christopher stepped back and reached for his crutches. “I’m gonna go talk to JARVIS about where to go.”

“Take your plate to the kitchen and brush your teeth first,” Eddie told him.

Grumbling just a little, Christopher picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen. When Buck would have stood, Eddie rested a hand on his arm.

“You cooked,” he said. “I’ll do the dishes.”

Buck blew out a breath. “Would you rather I wasn’t here when Anita Mills arrives?”

“No,” Eddie answered immediately. “Unless you think you’ll be uncomfortable. I was married at the time, but even if I hadn’t been, there was never anything between us but camaraderie.”

“It’s not that,” Buck said, then grimaced. “Well, mostly not that. It’s just that veterans don’t tend to talk about their service with civilians in any meaningful way.”

“True,” Eddie admitted. “But you’re not just any civilian. Even if you weren’t my guide, you were Navy.”

“Only the minimum enlistment, then reserves when I didn’t make it as a SEAL.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Buck blinked. “What?”

“If you had, I’d probably still be in the service,” Eddie said, “and while I don’t regret it, I was ready to be out the moment Christopher was born. I only stayed in because the pay and benefits were better than I could get anywhere else, and we needed them.”

For Christopher went unsaid, but Buck nodded as though he heard them anyway – which he probably did, thanks to their bond.

“You should shower first,” was all he said. “So you’ll be ready whenever she gets here.”

Eddie huffed. “You’re going to do the dishes anyway, aren’t you?”

Buck just grinned.

*BREAK*

Even though Eddie took short showers, Buck had finished cleaning up the kitchen and had a cup of steaming coffee in his hand when Eddie got back to the kitchen.

Eddie enjoyed a brief kiss as he accepted the cup from Buck.

“Christopher headed out already,” Buck said, and Eddie nodded. He’d noted how far away his son’s heartbeat was as soon as he shut off the shower. “He said JARVIS will let him know when we’re ready to go. I suspect he’ll disappear into the daycare again as soon as we get back. We might not see him until dinner.”

“And maybe not then, depending on what Tony and Steve have planned,” Eddie murmured. Then, “Speaking of plans, is there anything you want to do in the city today? Maybe we can coordinate something for each of you?”

“I’ll think about it while I shower,” Buck said. “And we can figure it out after your talk with Anita.”

That made sense, so Eddie nodded and Buck headed down the hallway to their bedroom. A click of a door closing was followed by the rush of water, and then Eddie had nothing to do but wait for Mills to show up.

“I’ve alerted Miss Mills that you are ready to see her,” JARVIS said. “And she is on her way up now.”

Eddie wasn’t certain ready was the correct word, but all he said was, “Thanks, JARVIS.”

At least he didn’t have long to work himself up over whatever she might want to talk about, he thought as he headed for the kitchen to refresh his coffee and make a cup for Mills.

He kicked himself mentally. By his own preferences, she wasn’t Mills anymore. She was Anita.

He’d just gotten milk from the fridge when a chime sounded at the door. He crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Mills – Anita – had dressed casually in jeans and a peasant-style blouse, and Eddie blinked.

“What? You’ve never seen a woman before?” Anita asked with a grin.

“Just – this is the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform – military or civilian,” Eddie said, stepping back to let her in. “And I don’t know why that surprised me. Coffee’s on. Do you still take it black?”

“Cream and sugar,” she said, and he nodded understanding. Decadent coffee, at least compared to straight black, was for many veterans a sign that they were back home, that they weren’t in theater any longer.

“Milk okay instead of cream?”

“Sure.”

She followed him to the kitchen and in short order, they had occupied a pair of armchairs in the living room. Anita seemed fascinated by the contents of her coffee mug, and Eddie…

Eddie realized that they really didn’t know each other very well, despite the time they’d spent together in theater and the disastrous, life-threatening and life-altering, final mission they’d shared. That realization sat heavy in his heart and conscience, and he cast about for something to say, searching his memories for whatever personal knowledge of her he had.

Finally, and much to his relief, he found a topic that wasn’t related to their service.

“Did your brother graduate?” he asked. “And get into the law school he wanted?”

Anita looked up and smiled. “He did, both. He’s at Pepperdine and doing pretty well, last I heard.” Then she blew out a long breath. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because we’re strangers, in a way,” Eddie said, and she stared at him. “I just realized it myself. We know each other really well…as soldiers. As people…not so much.”

“Except I know all about Christopher,” she pointed out.

Eddie laughed ruefully. “Yeah, sorry about forcing pictures of my son on you.”

“No, don’t be. It was…nice. Normal. A bit of home, and we all needed that now and again.”

Eddie nodded and took a sip of his coffee. Then a thought occurred to him. “Would it be easier if I were Sergeant Diaz right now?”

Anita appeared to think it over as she took a sip of her own coffee. “Maybe? I mean, it’s a problem-”

Eddie took the invitation, distantly aware that Buck had completed his shower and was moving around their bedroom, presumably getting dressed. He straightened and summoned a tone he hadn’t used in years. “Sitrep, Corporal.”

She swallowed, straightened, and met his gaze, just as she had done in the field. “It’s – I’m not doing well. Being here, being back. I don’t – I don’t feel like I belong here anymore.”

“I had a hard time readjusting, too,” Eddie said quietly.

“But you did – you have,” Anita said, her voice cracking. “But I haven’t, and it’s been years. I don’t know that I ever will.”

Eddie didn’t need a sentinel’s senses to know that she was on the brink of an emotional collapse, and he debated briefly how to respond. The scent of salt water decided him.

He rose, crossed to the armchair Anita had claimed, and offered her his hand. She took it, and he tugged her to her feet, guiding her around the coffee table to the sofa before sitting down with her.

Anita looked at him oddly, and he smiled before opening his arms. “Sometimes, a hug helps. Not to solve problems, of course, but to bring you back to an even keel.”

Anita let out a shuddery breath that was almost a sob and all but fell against his chest. Eddie wrapped his arms around her like he would comfort Christopher.

He wasn’t surprised to feel his shirt becoming damp.

Then the sofa dipped and he looked up to see that Buck had taken a seat on Anita’s other side, and leaned forward to embrace her from behind. She stiffened, but Buck’s presence, both physical and psionic, was comforting enough that she relaxed almost immediately.

Eddie resisted the urge to murmur reassurances as he would if Christopher were crying like Anita was. Instead, he let her cry it out.

When she was more sniffling than sobbing, Buck straightened away and reached for a box of tissue that had appeared – probably brought by Buck when he came in – on the coffee table.

A small mountain of used tissues later, Anita managed a shaky smile.

“Sorry for the ugly cry,” she said.

“It’s not a problem,” Eddie reassured her. “I’ve had worse from Christopher.”

“But it was a very ugly cry,” Buck observed, his tone dry enough that it startled a laugh from Anita. Buck rested a hand on her back. “Can you tell us what’s wrong now?”

Anita hesitated, briefly. “It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not,” Eddie murmured. “A lot of veterans have trouble adjusting after being in theater.”

“I was doing okay,” she said. “And then I got a call from Bender – Chief died in country.”

Eddie swore under his breath.

Anita took a breath. “He chose to stay in, you know? But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” Buck said quietly. “I can’t imagine it would.”

“How’d you get here?” Eddie asked. “Not here, crying on our couch, but here as in working for Tony Stark.”

“It’s all your fault.”

Eddie blinked. “How can it be my fault, when we’ve barely exchanged Christmas texts for the last few years?”

Anita smiled more genuinely. “I saw you on TV, when Mr. Stark announced he’d found Captain Rogers. Not a lot,” she added hastily, “but you were there in the background, working security. And I thought, if Sarge can do it, I can do it. So I took courses in defensive and combat driving, and set to work. I thought I was doing so well-”

“You are,” Eddie assured her. “You have to be, because Tony Stark doesn’t tolerate slackers.”

“I know,” she said, and Eddie couldn’t help raising a disbelieving eyebrow. She grimaced. “I do. It’s just…”

“Everything else,” Buck said quietly. “It feels like you’re not enough, that you don’t deserve to be here-”

Anita stiffened. “I’m sorry. I usually keep-”

“Yourself to yourself,” Buck said. “I know. And I didn’t feel anything from you when we hugged last night. But just now…no one can be expected to keep themselves to themselves when they’re…emotionally unsettled.”

“Wow,” she said. “That was tactful.”

“It’s okay to feel what you feel,” Buck told her.

Eddie understood what Buck was doing, but he couldn’t let one thing stand. “Except for one thing that’s demonstrably wrong.”

Matching frowns met that statement, and he bit back an inappropriate grin to focus on Anita.

“You absolutely deserve to be here,” he said in his sergeant’s voice. “Why do you think I fought so hard that day?”

She bit her lip. “To save the patient, and the team.”

“Greggs didn’t survive the crash,” Eddie told her. “I still did what I could so we could bring his body home, and for the team, of course. But mostly I fought as hard as I did for you.”

Anita stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “For me?”

“I knew what they’d do to you if they took you,” Eddie said quietly. “And I wouldn’t let that happen if I had a single other choice. So I fought as hard as I could, because you’re an amazing person and the thought of what they’d do made me-”

“Fight harder,” Buck murmured.

“Almost feral,” Eddie corrected, and his guide nodded. Anita looked gobsmacked.

“I – I hadn’t realized,” she said.

“So,” Eddie continued, “it would be a favor to me if you’d get whatever help you need, because you deserve it – and because I really don’t want to have to tell Christoper that something’s happened to you.”

“Wow,” Buck muttered. “That’s doctorate-level emotional manipulation right there.”

Eddie laughed. “Well, maybe, but I learned from the best – and that doesn’t make it any less true. Anita.”

He waited until she focused on him and smiled at her. “You’re a beautiful, amazing woman. I’m proud to have served with you, and I would really like to get to know you better as a person.”

Anita stared at him for a moment, her scent pile as unreadable as her expression, which Eddie hadn’t expected.

He understood why a moment later, when she stretched forward and brushed his lips with a kiss.

He barely had time to respond – not to deepen the kiss, necessarily, but rather to acknowledge it – before she’d pulled back and met his gaze once again.

“Thank you,” she said, and sincerity filled her tone, her expression, and her scent pile. “That’s – one of the most genuine things anyone’s ever said to me. For the record, it was an honor to serve with you, Sergeant.”

“The honor was mine, Corporal,” Eddie returned, equally sincere. “Let’s not lose touch again?”

She snorted. “I’ve had the same phone number for years. You’re the one who disappeared.”

“Oh.” Eddie ducked his head, embarrassed. “It wasn’t deliberate – I ended up having to take out restraining orders against my ex-wife and my mother. I got a new phone and wiped all the contacts that weren’t my good family. In my defense, I was…distracted.”

“By which he means spitting mad at the situation,” Buck observed. “I wasn’t there, of course, but I can feel the echo of it, even now.”

“Damn bond,” Eddie muttered, making sure to send amusement down said bond so Buck would know he was teasing.

Anita pulled out her phone. “Tell me your new number, and I’ll text you mine, and Bender’s. I think-” she paused, not looking up from her phone, then blew out a breath. “I think he could do with hearing from you, too.”

Eddie nodded. A good leader looked after their team, no matter what, and he hadn’t done a good job of that. Yes, he had reasons – or were they excuses? he wasn’t sure now – but since Anita had reminded him, he’d step up.

The exchange of numbers complete, Anita rose to her feet. The manners his parents and the Army had drilled into him compelled Eddie to follow suit.

“I don’t mean to take up your whole trip,” she said.

“Still today and tomorrow morning left,” Eddie reminded her, “so you’re not taking up even half of it at this point.”

Anita chuckled briefly, and then seemed to have no idea what to say next.

Eddie opened his arms, and she came into them. “It’s good to see you again, to know you’re okay.”

“Well, not okay,” she muttered. “Not yet.”

“You will be,” Buck assured her.

Eddie pulled back just far enough to press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll get together again soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then turned and hugged Buck, too. “And you take care of Sarge.”

“Will do.” Buck dropped a kiss to her cheek and released her.

Then she was gone, and Eddie blew out a breath as Buck closed the door behind her.

“That – was not at all what I was expecting,” he said.

Buck rested a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need, and/or how can I help?”

Eddie relaxed under his guide’s attention and touch, allowing himself to be pulled into the other man’s arms.

“I don’t know that there’s anything you can do,” he murmured into Buck’s shoulder. “I’m – ashamed.”

“Of your service?” Buck asked quietly.

“No, never,” Eddie replied, certain. “It’s not always serving the tribe the way I thought it was, but I’m not ashamed of it. I am ashamed that I let my team down.”

“I don’t see how.”

“By losing touch, not following up.” Eddie blew out a breath. “They’re my team, and I was in charge. They were my tribe…and I let them go. I didn’t even think of them.”

“You were injured and then you had family drama – which I don’t know the details of, but must have been bad – drop on top of that,” Buck said reasonably.

“That was years ago.” Eddie straightened away from Buck but didn’t step back. “I’ve had lots of opportunities to reach out, and I haven’t.”

“So, do it now,” Buck said. “If it bothers you that much, that’s the only thing you can do to make it right.”

“Chief’s dead.”

“The others aren’t,” Buck pointed out. “You just talked to Anita – and she mentioned someone called Bender? Who else?”

Eddie blew out a breath. “Chandler and Hong. Others, too, but those were the ones I worked with the most. ”

“So, pull out your phone and start texting. I’m pretty sure Anita gave you all their numbers.”

Eddie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your psi-senses that good?”

Buck smirked. “I looked over her shoulder.”

Eddie chuckled, and when he would have pulled away, Buck tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Buck’s expression combined curiosity and compassion in equal measure. “Restraining orders against your ex-wife and your mother?”

Eddie blew out a breath. “Not my choice, entirely, but the best choice I could make for Christopher.”

“And yourself?” Buck prompted gently.

“And myself.” Eddie could admit that much, at least. “You haven’t met Pepper yet.”

“Pepper?” Buck’s brows furrowed for a moment before his expression cleared. “Wait – Pepper Potts? Tony Stark’s super-hot assistant?”

“Super-competent,” Eddie corrected. “And while she doesn’t explode in a temper, she can be vicious when crossed.”

“Okay…?” Buck said leadingly.

“She was there when I was served with divorce papers, and when my mother showed up demanding to take Christopher.” Eddie smiled at the memory. “She got a team of lawyers together, and – well, I don’t know for a fact that she told them to do the legal equivalent of dropping a tactical nuke on Mom and Shannon, but that was the general effect.”

Buck grinned. “My kind of lady.”

Eddie chuckled. “Right? I just wish I could’ve seen their faces when they realized exactly what hell was raining down on them.”

Chapter Text

Buck would never admit aloud – and only very privately in his own mind, so as to keep Eddie from realizing it – just how much his mind had been blown by this trip. And, if he were honest with himself, not just the trip, but also that his co-worker and sentinel were friends with Iron Man and Captain America.

No, with Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, because at least Buck had gotten used to thinking of them by their names, even if he had yet to address either one of them so informally.

Maybe tonight, at their going-away dinner, he’d manage to be familiar.

Christopher, unsurprisingly, had chosen to spend their last night in New York in the childcare facility, though Buck wasn’t entirely convinced that the kids were building actual robots.

Still, he accompanied Eddie to drop Christopher off and then to take the elevator back up to what Eddie called the party deck, where Tony and Steve were waiting with dinner – which raised the question,

“What are you expecting?”

Eddie turned to him as the elevator doors slid shut. He didn’t bother to press a button, but the car slid smoothly into motion.

“Expecting?” Eddie repeated.

“For dinner,” Buck said. “I mean – it’s Tony Stark. What does dining in look like for him?”

“Depends on the night,” Eddie answered. “He’ll order in what he’s in the mood for, whether it’s pizza or filet mignon from a restaurant that normally wouldn’t be caught dead doing delivery.”

Buck chuckled briefly. “And he didn’t give you a hint?”

“We’ll find out when we get there – which should be in thirty seconds or less.”

Buck didn’t bother to count the seconds; when a sentinel gave a time estimate, you could set your watch by it. Instead, he just hoped his hoodie and khaki cargo pants were appropriate to wear for dinner. Of course, Eddie was dressed similarly in a long-sleeved Henley and jeans, but Eddie had known both Tony and Steve for years. Familiarity mattered.

That Buck hoped to make a good impression, even though they’d met at the gallery two nights ago, had nothing to do with his nervousness. At all.

Eddie glanced at him and smirked as the car came to a stop and the doors slid silently open. Buck stuck his tongue out at him.

The scent of onions and…potatoes? yes, and something else Buck couldn’t quite identify wafted to his nose.

“That smells too fresh to have been delivery,” Eddie observed.

“Steve cooked.”

Buck barely refrained from jumping to the ceiling like a cartoon cat at Tony’s casual tone and seemingly sudden appearance from nowhere holding a glass containing two fingers of a golden liquid in each hand.

Then again, the ceiling here was pretty high – twenty feet, if Buck were any judge. He’d never be able to jump that high.

He blinked and realized he was holding a tumbler of some kind of whiskey or bourbon. He didn’t remember taking it from Tony, and the other man’s expression suggested he hadn’t heard something Tony had said, either.

Thankfully, to judge by the amusement radiating from the man, Tony didn’t seem to have taken offense at Buck’s lapse, and the long-sleeved AC/DC T-shirt he wore reassured Buck on his own sartorial choices.

A glance revealed Eddie sniffing at the tumbler he held, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Laphroaig?” Eddie asked, and Buck repeated the unfamiliar word in his mind. La-froig.

Tony grinned. “Close – an Ardbeg limited edition.”

“That’s not close,” Eddie grumbled.

“I’d call the same island close,” Steve pointed out as he came in from the kitchen area. He was slightly more formal than the other three in a button-up and olive drab trousers. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, though, so he wasn’t too formal. “And how do you tell the distilleries apart?”

“Practice,” Eddie said dryly. “Lots of practice.”

“How’d you get that practice, Eds?” Buck asked, grateful to have something to contribute to the conversation, however small, and that the question would tell him more about the sentinel – the man – he’d bonded with after barely knowing him a week.

“Started as his bodyguard,” Eddie said, gesturing toward Tony with his glass. “He has an impressive selection of Scotches-”

“Selection?” Buck frowned. “Not collection?”

“Collection implies I’ll never drink them,” Tony said, “and I will. Or at least, I intend to. Someone,” he added with a mock glare at Steve, “doesn’t care for Scotch. And, really, Steve? The Irish drink as much as the Scots do. Maybe more, depending on the occasion.”

“Yes,” Steve replied seriously. “We drink Irish whiskey, not Scotch.”

“And then when I started the academy,” Eddie continued as though that exchange hadn’t taken place, “I figured I should learn enough to figure out if it’s actually a fire I’m smelling, or just Scotch.”

“Just!” Tony sputtered, and Eddie laughed so Buck figured it was okay to chuckle, too.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered. “Laugh it up. See if I give you anything now.”

Eddie paused with his tumbler halfway to his mouth, one eyebrow raised in question. “Are we going to argue about this again?”

“No,” Steve said. “Because you already know about it.”

Buck frowned at that, but Eddie’s expression cleared. “The new phone?”

“Phones, plural,” Tony corrected and jerked his head to indicate they should follow him.

Buck fell into step beside Eddie, taking the moment to look around. The room – which must take up half the entire floor – held minimal furniture with simple silhouettes. The walls and floor appeared to be charcoal gray stone, or at least stone veneer, except for the small dining area by a fireplace, where the table and chairs nestled into an inlay of white stones too large to be pebbles but too small to be rocks.

Overall, Buck found the room a bit less stark – pun intended – than he would have expected, but that was only because of the natural materials.

Tony stopped by a burl walnut credenza and gestured to a trio of boxes emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo, two in blue and one in red.

“Three?” Eddie asked. “You said one for me, I expected one for Buck. Who’s the third one for?”

“Christopher,” Tony answered. “And don’t get your boxers in a twist, Joe – it’s only got your family in LA and the four of us. Plus Happy. And Pepper. And there’s a mini-JARVIS so he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.”

“By whose standard?” Eddie sounded suspicious.

Tony actually rolled his eyes, which Buck found far more amusing than he probably should. Steve chuckled.

“Mine, actually,” Steve said. “I know what you let him have access to while you were helping me acclimate, and JARVIS extrapolated from that.”

“It’s a learning AI,” Tony said, “so it’ll grow with him. And you keep full parental controls.”

Buck felt Eddie’s internal debate through their bond, and the instant he gave in.

“Fine,” Eddie said. “But if anything goes wrong, I’m telling Pepper.”

“That’s playing dirty,” Steve observed.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m sure the Army taught you to use whatever weapon you have at hand, same as they did me. Do we have time to swap before we eat?”

Tony scoffed. “Put your paperweights down, and JARVIS will do the rest.”

“While we eat,” Steve clarified. “I know it won’t take him that long, but we’ll keep the phones away from the dinner table.”

“You and your old-fashioned standards.” Tony’s tone held a teasing note, and Buck sensed genuine amusement from Eddie, too, as they crossed to the dining area.

“What are we having?” Eddie asked. “I smell potatoes and onions and…cabbage?”

“Colcannon,” Steve answered. Then waved a hand side-to-side. “A variation, really. Mashed potatoes and cabbage, except I dressed the cabbage up with some bacon and smoked sausage, too. Simple but filling.”

“Sounds good,” Buck said. “And if it tastes half as good as it smells, will you show me how to make it?”

“When Tony and I are back in California, sure.”

Steve’s easy agreement smoothed the last of Buck’s nerves away, and while Eddie and Tony took seats at the table, he followed Steve to the tiny kitchen.

“I can help serve,” he said, and Steve grinned at him.

Shortly, all four of them were seated with plates of steaming cabbage over mashed potatoes.

Buck had raised his fork but, thankfully, before he could dig in, he saw that Steve and Eddie sat with their heads bowed and eyes closed. Tony simply sat still, so Buck mirrored him as Steve began to speak quietly.

“Our Father, Protector of Protectors, thank You for this meal and for the friends to share it with. Bless us, o Lord, as we gather to share Thy bounty. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Buck knew enough to murmur an amen, and finally he could taste the meal Steve had prepared for them.

Eddie spoke before the first bite reached Buck’s mouth. “Now that we’re safe from prying eyes and ears, Tony – what’s going on with SHIELD?”

SHIELD? Buck sent the question down his bond with Eddie and received a flurry of impressions of a one-eyed Black man, a stunning redheaded White woman, a dark-haired White woman, and the most unassuming White man Buck had ever seen. Underlaying those impressions was a deep sense of irritation.

When he pushed for more, Buck got back adversary. Not enemy, which was surprising, but adversary was cause enough for concern.

The impressions came within heartbeats, and Buck barely had time to sort them before Tony stabbed his fork into a piece of smoked sausage with greater force than necessary.

“They’re still under investigation,” Steve said. “While their mandate is fine – they’re the only agency I’m aware of whose only mandate is protection – their implementation of it…isn’t.”

“Fury’s out as director,” Tony said. “Hill’s in, with Coulson as her deputy.”

“Interesting choices,” Eddie observed, sending images of each person to Buck as Tony spoke their names.

“It would’ve been the other way around if Coulson hadn’t followed Fury’s lead that day,” Tony said. “You might say he’s on probation, even more than SHIELD itself already is.”

Tony shoved the forkful of sausage, cabbage, and potato into his mouth, and Eddie blew out a breath. Buck could feel the working of his sentinel’s mind and kept as quiet as he could physically and mentally so as not to distract Eddie.

“Protection,” Eddie said finally. “Protecting who? And from what?”

A shiver ran down Buck’s spine at those questions, though he wasn’t certain whether it was anticipation, dread, or some other emotion. Before he could sort it out, Steve and Tony both just shrugged.

“It was never defined, as far as I know,” Steve said.

“And that’s annoying as fuck,” Tony declared and forked another chunk of cabbage.

“So we don’t talk about it anymore right now.” Buck waved a forkful of potato. “Isn’t dinner conversation supposed to be, I don’t know, pleasant and polite and diverting?”

“SHIELD is one of the three,” Eddie quipped. “But you’re right. What do you want to talk about instead?”

“Well.” Buck chewed the bite of potato – even though it was already mashed – to buy himself a little time to gather his thoughts.

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew exactly what he wanted to ask. He just needed to work up the courage to actually do it.

“Hey.” Eddie’s hand rested gently on Buck’s forearm. “It’s okay. Nobody will be mad at you for whatever you say.”

Without his conscious intent, Buck’s gaze flicked to Tony Stark. Eddie squeezed his forearm.

“Not even him. Maybe especially not him,” Eddie said.

“Why especially?” Tony asked, curiosity limning his tone and his psionic profile.

“Because we’re personally very compatible,” Eddie replied. “And I won’t get mad. Therefore, you won’t.”

“Personally very compatible,” Tony repeated with a frown. “And yet, you’ve never let me take you to bed.”

“And when would I have done that?” Eddie spread his hands wide in mock outrage, but Buck felt the uncertainty, even embarrassment, beneath the surface. “When we first met, you were injured. Then you were evac’d. Then I was injured, and you showed up asking me to help look for your sentinel. Then you were bonded and I was working for you. When in all of that would have been even reasonably possible, let alone appropriate?”

“Excuses, excuses,” Tony said, and Buck felt the sharpening of Tony’s attention and interest, even if he wasn’t certain what Tony would say next. That was Buck’s cue to reroute the conversation.

“That all kind of relates to my question,” he said, and the other three focused on him.

“How?” Steve asked, then shook his head. “Sorry – the question itself will probably show how.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Buck agreed with a quick grin. He sobered. “I’m curious – when exactly did you come online? I know Eddie’s record has been modified, somehow, and yours-” he nodded at Tony “-was never revealed publicly.”

“May 8, 2015,” Tony answered immediately, then frowned at Eddie. “I’m not sure what time, exactly – nobody ever told me.”

“Mm.” Eddie’s gaze went unfocused, and Buck could feel his concentration. “It was about 1415 local time, and that’s UTC plus four and a half. New York is UTC minus four, so net of plus a half, so 1445 Eastern time.”

Son of a… Buck clamped down on his own reaction to that time as quickly as he could, but Eddie still shot him an inquiring glance. He shook his head minutely and focused on Steve, who’d gone even paler than his Irish complexion warranted.

“Steve?” Tony reached over to take his Sentinel’s hand. “What is it?”

“It’s just-” Steve swallowed, and even across the table, Buck heard the soft click of his throat. “That’s the time Dr. Erskine’s procedure began. The one that gave me this-” he gestured to himself “-and…brought me online.”

“So, the same day and time, just seventy-two years apart,” Eddie said. “I don’t think that’s what they mean when they say the most compatible sentinels and guides come online at the same time.”

“But it could be,” Buck said. “It’s not like we have a lot of Protectors with such a dramatic age gap.”

The others nodded because that was a reasonable point, and Buck sensed their instincts relaxing. Too bad he had to tense them up again.

“And it’s the same day and time I came online – adjusted to Peru time.”

Three curses in three different languages answered him, and Buck couldn’t help chuckling, though the serious expressions on his companions’ faces made him sober almost immediately.

“What?” he asked, and then it hit him. “You think it’s more than a coincidence?”

“I probably wouldn’t,” Tony said, “if it weren’t for the other oddity in the room. At this table.”

Eddie’s and Steve’s faces creased into nearly identical frowns.

“What other oddity?” Steve asked.

“Neither of you are territorial,” Tony said, and Buck blinked. All sentinels were territorial, to some degree or other, so how could Tony suggest otherwise?

But Eddie was nodding slowly, the sausage and cabbage on his fork forgotten in the moment.

Still, Steve spoke first. “I hadn’t thought of it before, but in my defense, I awakened – came online – at the same time I was subjected to Dr. Erskine’s serum. I thought that the two things combined meant that I didn’t have a territorial impulse.”

“I expected,” Eddie began, but shook his head and stopped himself. “No, that’s not the right word. I thought I’d get territorial when I got home. But then Shannon left, and my mother all but kidnapped Christopher, and El Paso will never feel like home, let alone my territory, again.”

“You mean it ever did?” Tony’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

Eddie shrugged. “More or less. I mean, when you’re a kid, you don’t know any differently.”

“What about LA?” Buck asked, and Eddie shook his head again.

“It’s home,” Eddie said, “but not my territory.”

“New York is home for me,” Steve said, “but neither it nor Los Angeles are my territory. And…”

He trailed off, and Tony nudged his shoulder. “Say it. Whatever it is.”

Steve blew out a breath. “I’ve never felt like I was intruding on any other sentinel’s territory.”

Buck blinked. “That’s – odd. I mean, I’ve worked with sentinels before, they all have a territorial impulse, and there’s always these…rituals, I guess, when they interact with other sentinels, to figure out who’s in charge, for lack of a better word.”

“I never felt the need,” Eddie said. “Even weirder? They don’t seem to, either. I mean, I contacted the local alphas when I moved to LA, like you’re supposed to, and they basically…I can’t say they shrugged me off, but they didn’t make a big deal about it.”

“Should they have?” Steve asked. “I mean, I don’t know what modern customs are. I just introduced myself at the LA Protectors office and later the New York office, and that was that.”

“That’s – not normal,” Tony observed. “When a sentinel as strong as either of you moves somewhere, there’s an…adjustment to the community, the tribe. You’re both saying there was no such thing when you moved to a new territory?”

Steve shrugged, and Eddie mirrored the action. “Not that I know of?” Steve offered.

“Oh, you’d know,” Tony muttered, shaking his head.

The anticipatory dread Buck had felt earlier returned in full force, and with it, some long-buried memories of his time in Peru. Those memories joined this evening’s conversation in the blender of his mind and suddenly he understood.

He blew out a breath and regarded each of his companions in turn. “Because your territory – our territory – is the whole planet.”

“The planet?” Steve almost squeaked – and Buck would try very, very hard not to tease him about that noise. Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry – the biggest adjustment I’ve had is how connected everything is. I mean, we watched the Brexit vote live, and already people were talking about it on YouTube. So maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised that the whole planet needs a Protector pair.”

“All four of us have traveled extensively,” Eddie continued, his tone thoughtful. “Two of us as part of our service, one of us for business, and one of us with a severe case of wanderlust. We’ve seen more of the planet than most people.”

“And Stark technology will stretch around the world soon,” Buck added. “Not just the combat gear, but the Starkphones and now the clean energy programs.”

“So you’re saying,” Tony said, “that the psionic plane, or whatever it is that creates Protectors, brought us together to protect the planet. From what?”

“No clue,” Buck admitted readily. “But whatever it is- ”

The other three echoed him as he finished, “-we’ll face it together.”