Wolverine had been born in 1832. During the brief years when Captain America was active, Logan himself had been fighting as a U.S. soldier in World War II. He knew the legend well enough, but he'd never been the type to idolize symbols. That was why he hadn't recognized the man on the table at first glance.
When Captain America was declared dead, Logan had been a prisoner of war, shipped to a camp near Nagasaki. History had moved on without either of them.
"That's right," Rowan said with an easy smile. "He's Steve Rogers."
He gestured toward the man on the medical platform, the last of the ice melting away. "I've been thinking the school needs more teachers. Normal people aren't a great fit for our students, and character matters just as much as skill. So I thought of him."
Rowan continued calmly. "He fell into the Arctic and vanished. With the super-soldier serum in his body, I figured death wasn't guaranteed. I tried tracking him. Turns out I was right."
He paused, then added, "His morals are solid. And beyond combat, he's a top-tier tactician. He can teach the students how to fight together, not just how to hit harder."
"You want him teaching here?" Wolverine frowned. "That's optimistic. He's a government-made soldier. Once he wakes up, he'll probably report straight back and start taking orders again."
Rowan chuckled. "Not necessarily. And we have the Professor."
He glanced toward Charles.
When it came to persuasion, Professor X was in a league of his own. Besides, Steve Rogers had never been blindly loyal to authority. If he were, he wouldn't have rejected the Sokovia Accords later in life. His loyalty had always been to principles, not institutions.
Steve had joined the army to protect the weak and stop wars. Now the war he knew was long over. Everyone he loved was gone. The world had changed beyond recognition.
With the right conversation, staying at a school to teach displaced children how to survive wasn't a hard sell.
"I'll try," Professor X said, nodding. "I admired him when I was young."
"I'm fine with it," Wolverine added with a shrug. "And I could use a drinking buddy. Heard he can outdrink just about anyone."
Charles had given up alcohol after receiving his new body. Rowan didn't drink at all. Logan, frankly, was lonely.
"Then I'll wake him," Rowan said.
Steve's vitals were stabilizing. Rowan raised his wand and spoke softly.
Steve's eyes snapped open.
"Where… am I?" he asked hoarsely, staring at the ceiling.
The last thing he remembered was the crash. Then ice. Endless ice.
"Captain Rogers," Rowan said gently.
Steve reacted instantly.
He rolled off the bed, shield in hand, stance perfect despite the confusion. His eyes swept the room, locking onto the three unfamiliar men. "Who are you? Where is this place? Why am I here?"
"This is a school," Rowan said calmly. "We're the people who run it. As for the rest, it's a long story. Sit down and we'll explain."
Steve didn't buy it.
The equipment was too advanced. Too clinical. A school basement didn't look like this. To him, it smelled like HYDRA.
He bolted for the door.
"Hey, take it easy," Wolverine said, stepping in his path.
Steve didn't hesitate. He punched.
Logan took the hit squarely, then kicked Steve back across the room. "You may be pushing a hundred, but I've got you beat by another century."
Steve raised his shield again.
Logan's claws slid out with a metallic snikt.
Before either could escalate, Rowan intervened.
The shield flew from Steve's hand. Ethereal restraints wrapped around his limbs, locking him in place.
"You're proving my point," Steve snarled. "Only HYDRA has people like this."
Rowan sighed. "Fine. I'll show you."
He grabbed Steve, spread his wings, and launched skyward.
Moments later, they hovered above Manhattan.
"Look," Rowan said. "This is New York. The year is 2010. You've been frozen for sixty-five years."
Steve stared.
The skyline was wrong. Taller. Brighter. Alive in a way he didn't recognize. Cars sped along roads that hadn't existed. Light spilled from buildings that should have been warehouses.
As a kid from Brooklyn, he knew this city better than anyone.
And yet it wasn't his anymore.
They returned to the school in silence.
Rowan released him and turned to Charles. "He's yours."
That night, Professor X spoke with Steve at length. About the past. About loss. About purpose.
By morning, Steve had agreed.
At nine o'clock, Natasha Romanoff arrived to process the students' identification paperwork. She froze the moment she saw the man standing off to the side in civilian clothes.
"Rowan," she said slowly, "he looks like—"
"Like Captain America?" Rowan cut in smoothly. "Common mistake. He's our new teacher. Steve A. Min."
Natasha stared.
Rowan didn't even blink.
...
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