1. Non-violence
Cap suspected he'd hear from Wolverine when it was all over. He knew that if what he'd heard was true, that the former Jim Howlett had no memory at all of his past, he'd want to hear what Cap knew.
What he didn't expect was that Howlett would show up at the Triskelion, and he didn't expect everyone in the place to start crapping their pants and running around like idiots.
The amusement factor was high. He had to thank him for that.
It would have been more amusing if Fury hadn't been Somewhere Classified, leaving Cap to deal with the computer jockey in full fight-or-flight mode who burst into his office, mouth running a mile a minute. Cap guessed they'd never covered this scenario in all those simulations they were so fond of these days.
"Wolverine is here, sir, and he says he wants to see Fury--actually he says he *better* see Fury--and we don't know how he got here because security didn't pick him up until he was in the building. Sir."
"Didn't pick him up until he wanted you to, probably."
"Probably, sir." The computer jockey actually *gulped*. "When we informed him the General was unavailable, he said he wanted to talk to you."
Cap sighed. This was just what he didn't need. But he knew well enough what it was like to lose years of a lifetime. At least Howlett had actually *lived* his, even if he couldn't remember them. He'd help him out.
"Let him in."
Howlett sat down in the visitor's chair, gave Cap a once over that felt a little bit like he was being sized up for a body bag, and then lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him.
"What?"
"You really sit around here all day in that costume?"
"It's not a costume. It's a uniform. You have one yourself, if I recall."
"Not in those colors, thank God."
"You come here to discuss fashion choices?" He had no intention of having this conversation with someone who looked like he'd found his clothes in a Dumpster at a rodeo.
"No. I want something."
Cap leaned back in his chair, smugly certain he knew what it was.
That didn't mean he was going to make it easy for him.
"You've got balls the size of cement trucks if you think you're in any position to come in here and ask for favors," he said.
Howlett somehow managed to look both completely relaxed and completely prepared to kill him at the same time when he said, "The way I see it, you're lucky we don't wipe you guys out one at a time."
"Xavier would never allow it."
"He wouldn't have to." He smiled a humorless smile that called forth the memory of the inside of a helicopter filled with what was left of some damn fine soldiers.
"Unless I give you what you want. Isn't that right?" He remembered that about Jim Howlett, that he liked to let you know right up front where you stood with him. "So tell me what you want."
He already knew the man wanted his past, but he was going to make him ask for it. All those dead soldiers.
He was wrong again.
"The girl. Rogue."
Cap sat up so fast his chair rocked against the desk. "What?" There was no time to hide his reaction, and Howlett's jaw twitched just enough to tell him it didn't go unnoticed. Cap felt the power distribution in the room shift, ever so slightly and not in his favor.
"The girl who came in with the rest of the Brotherhood. I want her."
This was unexpected. And interesting. Very, very interesting.
Cap picked up the paperweight on his desk--a solid chunk of crystal with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it--and hefted it in his hand a few times, considering. "And what makes you think she wants to go with you?" He was genuinely curious about that.
"I don't particularly give a shit if she does." That humorless smile again. "But she will."
"Just for the sake of my conscience, maybe you could give me a reason why I should do this. A reason that won't land you in prison, preferably."
"I know her."
He thought for a second, trying to call up what he knew about the girl. Something about the way Howlett said he knew her…
Ah. Of course. The Weapon X program. "Then you know she's a very dangerous young woman."
"I’m a very dangerous man." Howlett tapped his knuckles on the arm of his chair. "And I'm losing my patience."
The posturing was starting to annoy him, but he ignored it. "You think you can bring her around? Put her to work for Xavier?"
Howlett nodded.
"You telling me what you think I want to hear?"
Another nod, with the uptick of one corner of his mouth, suggesting a smile that might actually have some humor in it if it weren't on the face of a cold-blooded killer.
He set the paperweight down carefully, taking his time, considering. "I'll see what I can do. Come back tomorrow."
"No. Today. Right now."
"That's not going to happen." It was amusing as hell that he'd expected it, though.
"I’m taking her with me, one way or another." Tapped his knuckles again. A blatant threat.
Cap was hardly impressed. He doubted Howlett would willingly kill the only man alive who had known him way back when. Maybe he wasn't acting interested in the details now, but sooner or later he'd want to hear them. Of that Cap was certain.
Intriguing, though, how dead-set he was on having the girl.
As for her, she'd probably be better off with Xavier, Cap thought. God knew they hadn't been able to get far with her here. Too unstable, too pissed off. But if Xavier could keep Wolverine--who was, by all accounts, one synapse away from being an out-and-out psychopath--somewhere in the vicinity of the straight and narrow, he might be able to do the same with the girl.
Her future here was bleak, that much he knew. Too many scientists with too much money and curiosity, doing unspeakable things in the name of national security. Telling each other that they were trying to help those poor souls in the holding cells, when all they wanted to do was get their hands on them and play Dr. Frankenstein.
And didn't he know firsthand what that was like.
As did the man sitting across from him. And maybe Howlett didn't remember him, but he was still a part of the past, damn it. A part that hadn't sprouted gray hair and dentures while he'd been gone. They could be, well, not friends, but *something*, maybe, if Howlett could find it in him to give a shit.
On the other hand, he obviously gave a shit about the girl. Enough to come here and get her, even though he had to know the chances were just as good that he'd end up down there in one of those cells himself.
If they could catch him.
And if they could keep him.
He set the paperweight down, adjusted it. Drummed his fingers on his desk. Decided.
"Tell you what. I'll give you ten minutes. If you can find her, she's yours." Fury was going to shit nickels when he found out about this. Just the thought of it cheered Cap immensely.
Howlett nodded. "All right."
"But if you kill anyone, the deal's off."
The killer's smile turned into a smirk. "That's no fun."
"You've already had a lifetime's worth of fun with our men."
"All right. Ten minutes." He pushed himself up out of the chair. "Starting when?"
Cap automatically stood when Howlett stood, old-fashioned manners that hadn't gone away, and looked at the clock on his desk. "Starting forty seconds ago."
Howlett stepped up and extended a hand, which surprised Cap a little. He shook it, and then walked him to the door. More quaint behavior that stood out like a sore thumb in this day and age.
"Behave yourself," he called after him.
"Wouldn't dream of anything else," he said over his shoulder, ambling away with his hands in his pockets as if he didn't have a care in the world, or a clock ticking against him.
Howlett disappeared into the elevator, and when Cap looked around him, every pale face in the room was staring at him as if he'd just played a game of chess with Death and somehow won.
When he sat back down at his desk, he noticed his paperweight was gone.
End
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a "Five Things" fic, though this one has only four things, based on the four cardinal virtues of Hinduism: non-violence, truth, purity, self-control. All of these take place after Ultimate War and assume that Logan and Rogue knew each other in Weapon X, and that his healing mutation was forced on her. Thanks to Unanon for mentioning that idea, which grabbed hold of my brain and wouldn't let go.