Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony

A/N: I own nothing at all to do with Marvel, the Avengers or the X-Men. Please don't sue.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

"Yeah, no. Bad idea! He loves his ... " Tony started to warn Rogers, only to get cut off by a slam from said hammer that sent him flying. He hit hard enough to rattle his brain in his skull, and it took him a second to clear his vision. What he saw horrified him. Thor was high in the air, hammer swinging, clearly intending to make Rogers a smear in the dirt.

Frantic calculations raced through his mind. He knew vibranium was tough, but Thor's hammer was something else entirely, and Tony had no idea if the shield would survive the blow. He started to lift one hand, trying to track Thor's arc, hoping to cut him off, but the suit was malfunctioning, the power fizzing and sparking unpredictably thanks to that lightning strike earlier. He'd upgraded the suit to deal with energy attacks after Vanko, which was why the suit was still functioning at all, but absorbing and then using that much energy had overstressed some of the systems. In the end, all Tony could do was close his eyes, unwilling to watch as Captain America very probably got smeared into the dirt.

The noise when hammer and shield met defied all description. Tony was fairly sure that if the suit's speakers hadn't cut out as they'd been designed to do if sound got past certain decibels, he'd've gone at least temporarily deaf. The shockwave was strong enough to roll him over, which was more than a little alarming.

The devastation to the surrounding forest when he opened his eyes was breathtaking. Everything in a several-hundred-feet radius had not just been flattened, but also destroyed. Huge old trees had been turned into so many toothpicks and kindling, and the smaller trees and underbrush had simply ceased to exist entirely.

Stunningly, Rogers was not only alive, but apparently unharmed, standing there as calm as you please. Tony stared at him for a moment, a bit dumbfounded.

"Jarvis, do me a favor and scan Rogers, would you?"

"Captain Rogers is entirely unharmed." Jarvis said after a moment.

"Holy shit. That's some shield." Tony breathed as he struggled to his feet, fighting against sluggish joints.

He walked over to the two, braced to hit Thor again if he tried something, but Thor seemed to be as dumbfounded as Tony was. As Rogers was, Tony realized when he got close enough to get a good look at Rogers' eyes.

"Are we done here?" Rogers tried for an authoritative tone, but it came much closer to sounding hopeful.

They were silent a moment longer before Tony had to speak up. "Yeah, I'm definitely done." he said.

Thor gave his head a bit of a shake. "My apologies. I should not have behaved so rashly." he said after a moment. Then he grimaced a bit. "Or so arrogantly. I must collect Loki before he takes advantage of our distraction and departs."

"We need him." Tony said, still braced for a resumption of the fight. "He knows where the Tesseract is. Once he gives it up, you can hang him from a flagpole for all I care, but until then ... "

To his surprise, this time Thor just nodded. "Fair enough, as I must have access to the Tesseract in order to return to Asgard."

"At least we have someplace for the jet to land." Rogers said, eyeing their surroundings.

Tony laughed. "Don't need it. Thor flies, I fly. He carries Loki, I take you."

Rogers didn't look too thrilled by the idea, but eventually agreed to it. It would be easier than the inevitable hassle of landing the jet in a small, clear area at night. A clear area that was covered in rubble, that was.

Thor headed up to the rocks where Loki had settled in to watch the fight. Tony hesitated long enough to mentally compute the best way to get Rogers back up to the plane.

"Rogers, stand behind me and grab my shoulders or my waist, one of the two. I need both hands free." Tony couldn't wait until the suit with the jet pack was finished. Sometimes, needing both hands to fly was a real hassle. Once Steve got in position, Tony switched over to the frequency Romanov was using. "Agent Romanov. We've got Loki back, and are heading up to you." he told her.

"Copy that. We're circling directly over that new clearing you boys made." she told him.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Blame that on Capsicle and Hammer Boy, not me." he told her, before cutting back to Rogers. "Hang on tight, we're heading up."

It was the effort of only a few moments to fly back up to the jet. Tony made a few mental notes, because if the Avengers were actually going to be a thing, carrying someone might become a regular occurrence, and he'd need to make some adjustments to the suit accordingly.

Tony nearly cracked up when Thor solved the problem of ensuring that Loki didn't escape by plonking his hammer in the crazed god's lap. But then things got a bit weird.

Thor had seemed casual enough when he plonked Mjolnir in Loki's lap, but then he suddenly got right in Loki's face. He frowned before reaching out to rub a thumb under one of Loki's eyes.

Tony decided to speak up. "Problem, Thor?"

"I believe so, yes." Thor said, pulling back from Loki. "Loki's eyes are blue. Last I saw him, they were green." He frowned at Loki. "My brother's skill at illusions is great, but they are dispelled by touch. His eyes did not change when I rubbed under his eye."

Rogers frowned. "You think something odd's going on?"

"It is possible. I know not what, precisely, but something is amiss. Now I think on it, his speech to me makes no sense. Either he was deliberately misremembering events or ... "

"Or something's going on." Rogers filled in.

"Nothing to say, Reindeer Games?" Tony asked, having noticed that Loki had stayed silent while they talked it over.

Loki just smirked at him like this was the world's greatest game, and continued to say nothing.

Which made Thor frown even more heavily. "Nay, this is not my brother's normal behavior." he said. "He has ever been one to use words as weapons. Silence is most unlike him."

"We'll figure it out, Thor." Tony told him.

"Could it be mind control of some sort? He managed to subvert two of ours, according to Director Fury. With that stick of his." Romanov finally piped in from the cockpit.

That made Tony turn to look at Loki's glowstick. "He have that before?" he asked Thor.

Thor shook his head.

"Which means he either built it or someone gave it to him." Tony said, mind whirring. "Could he have made it?"

Thor shook his head again. "I do not believe so. Loki's strength lies in trickery and magic, not weapon crafting. There are few in our realm who would have the gift to make such a weapon."

"Which means it was probably given to him." Tony said.

Unfortunately there really wasn't time to hash it out more, as they were approaching the helicarrier. Tony broke off from the rest of them to head for his armor vault and the robots that assembled and removed the armor.

From there, he headed to the bridge. He didn't trust Fury as far as he could throw the bastard. Tony had not forgotten, nor forgiven, the fact that Fury had damn well had a way to extend his lifespan. Fury'd had that crap he had Romanov stab Tony with long before he had Romanov stab him. And had also had the key to Tony's ultimate survival in his hands and had not seen fit to hand it over until Tony was at death's door. Then the bastard had had the gall to break into his house and disable Jarvis.

Tony had pretended to make nice, had pretended to want to play with the big boys. Thankfully, Fury seemed to have forgotten he was dealing with the man who had built an armored, flying suit and *destroyed* the people who had fucked with him. Fury's arrogance was going to be the bastard's downfall. The best part of it was that Fury was handing Tony the means to bring him down on a golden platter.

He was handing Tony the Avengers. And the best part was, if he knew Fury at all, Tony wouldn't actually have to do a damn thing to turn them against Fury. Fury'd do it all on his own, somehow. Tony just hoped that Jarvis got a recording of Fury's reaction when he realized what had happened.

Tony blew onto the bridge, his 'I am an extremely eccentric billionaire' mask firmly in place. It was the work of mere moments to get Jarvis' uplink into the helicarrier's computer in place without anyone the wiser.

He headed for the conference room, only to run into Coulson along the way. His opinion on the man was ... somewhat divided. On the one hand, Coulson had threatened to taze him. On the other, the man had then promptly left Tony the hell alone, and turned a blind eye to Tony leaving the mansion against 'orders'. He had also helped Pepper, back during the Stane thing, which earned the man a lot of points with Tony. It helped that Pepper liked him, and Tony trusted her judgment. So he was willing to play nicely until Coulson either fucked up or stood up to Fury, one of the two.

The first person in the room he headed for was Banner. He'd put Jarvis on not only finding Betty, but also on digging up every scrap of dirt on her old man that Jarvis could find. When things settled down, Tony fully intended to get the woman out of harm's way at the very least. Hire her, if he could manage it. She was every bit as bright as Bruce was, and quite frankly her brilliance was being wasted on the Army projects she was 'permitted' (read: forced, probably) to work on.

He intended to give Bruce his protection as well. Sometimes, being him was a godsend. There really weren't all that many people who were stupid enough to try to cross him, and Bruce would finally be safe under Tony's protection.

Internally, Tony fumed, because Bruce was standing well away from everyone else, and even World War Two's Golden Boy was making no effort to reach out or include the man. It was a petty retaliation, but Tony completely ignored everyone else while he talked science with Bruce. Only when they'd wrapped up their discussion of how the portal could be opened and controlled did he deign to turn his attention to everyone else at the table.

"We need to lock that spear thing somewhere safe." Rogers finally said. "Agent Romanov said something about Loki using it to control two of your people?" He looked over at Fury.

Fury looked very, very sour about admitting that it was the truth.

"If it can do that, we need to be cautious of what else the thing can do." Rogers said. "And the less anyone is around it, the better."

"We need to scan it to make sure we've got the scanners calibrated right, and to have a shot at figuring out how to unscramble the folks that are being controlled, but that won't take more than about five minutes." Tony said. "After that, you can bury the thing wherever." He turned to Bruce, and grinned broadly, impishly. "Shall we, my good doctor?" he asked, holding out one arm like he was going to escort a woman into a party.

Bruce gave him an amused look, and to Tony's surprise, actually went with it, mostly. "We should. Follow me, if you would, good sir." Bruce grinned at Tony, then turned and led the way to the lab he'd been given to use.

Tony dropped his arm with a mock-pout, but headed out right on Bruce's heels.

Chapter Text

Bruce and Thor

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Bruce had always known he'd been living free on borrowed time. He'd always known someone would try to nab him ... again. So he'd barely even blinked at Romanov's appearance. He'd even expected to be lied to and double crossed, so the existence of the squad of men hadn't been anything like a surprise.

But just because he'd expected it didn't mean the other guy hadn't been growling, grumbling, and itching to get out more than usual ever since Romanov showed up. It was taking every calming technique Bruce knew to keep the other guy from breaking free, just from the sheer stress of the situation, never mind the fact he felt about as safe as a mouse at a rodent hunter's convention.

He weathered the suspicious, wary standoffishness of everyone around him and their tendency to reach for their weapons when he got too close, or looked anything but meek. It was nothing more than what he'd come to expect from people who knew what he really was, and what the other guy was capable of.

Which had made Tony Stark so startling.

The man had breezed into the room like he hadn't a care in the world. He'd cozied right up to Bruce, chattering happily and without so much as the faintest hint of hesitance, never mind fear. If it hadn't been for the 'rage monster' comment, Bruce would have wondered if Tony knew about the other guy, to be so nonchalant. Now, he was just wondering about the man's sanity. And trying not to ache for Betty too much, because Tony was reminding him a lot of her.

Even though he'd been at the back end of nowhere for the last couple years, he knew of Tony, and the changes Tony had made in his company. He'd expected the man to be eccentric and pretty much a waste of air, that someone in the company had actually been the one to build the things Stark Industries churned out and Tony was just taking credit for it. Tony was anything but that. Bruce, for the first time, found himself struggling to keep up with someone else's intellect. And he adored every minute of it.

More interestingly, the other guy had begun to back off a bit. Bruce wasn't sure if it was the fact Tony reminded him so much of Betty that was doing it, or what, but the other guy was clearly not tracking Tony as a threat. Not even the poke in the side made the other guy get restless.

They spent a companionable half-hour or so scanning the stick, then calibrating to search for the Tesseract. At that point, Tony started monkeying around with the helicarrier's computer system, clearly searching for something even as they talked.

Inevitably, the other guy came up in conversation. Bruce found himself admitting to something he'd never really told anyone, even Betty: how raw and exposed he felt had always been his secret. She'd known he didn't like it, of course, but she hadn't known the full extent.

Tony's attempt to convince him that the other guy could be a good thing had been ... unexpectedly touching. He'd heard that sort of argument before, of course, but never from the angle that Tony approached it from. Bruce had only really ever heard about how the other guy could be an asset to the military if properly ... focused. Bruce didn't really believe Tony was right, but it was nice to hear.

Steve stopped by right about the time Tony poked him and Bruce sighed mentally at Steve's immediate concern. For God's sake, he was not that fragile. If he was, he'd never have come anywhere near this place except in chains. Which would have been an epically bad idea on the part of anyone trying to get him into chains.

Tony didn't seem to like Steve very much, which made Bruce wonder what the deal was there. At any rate, Tony managed to chase Steve out, and they went back to their work.

They were interrupted again shortly after that by Fury, who was ... displeased ... that Tony had somehow hacked into the helicarrier's computers. Steve showed up about the same time, carrying a big, awkward looking gun, and there was a bit of an angry discussion before Fury turned and stalked out. Steve gave them both considering looks, then nodded and left as well.

About five minutes later, out of nowhere, the room exploded.

Bruce barely even felt his landing and took no real notice of his surroundings once he hit. He was already fighting like a madman to keep the other guy at bay. The other guy was raging, howling to be freed, fighting Bruce's control with everything it had.

And then, to his complete horror, he heard Tony's voice. Worse, Tony's voice was close by. Bruce redoubled his efforts to get control of the other guy, terrified it'd kill Tony if it got out. It took him a minute or two to make sense of what Tony was saying.

Which is when he realized Tony was cracking jokes. Horrible, groan-worthy ancient science jokes that Bruce more or less had to laugh at in sheer self-defense, they were that bad. And incredibly, the other guy began to recede.

When he was finally back in complete control, he discovered he was sprawled on the floor amidst the wreckage of the lab, only a floor down. He was more than slightly sweaty and shaky from the effort to keep the other guy from coming out. Tony was crouched a few feet away, looking supremely unconcerned, for a man who'd come to within a hairsbreadth of meeting the other guy.

"You back with me, Brucie?" Tony wanted to know.

"Yeah." Bruce said. "I ... thanks." He said, not quite sure what else to say.

"Not a problem. Listen, you hang out here, ok? I need to go help kick ass." Tony said, then handed Bruce something. "Communicator. It only goes to my suit, so you won't be accidentally hearing what else is going on. You start feeling growly again, give me a yell. I can tell jokes all day."

Bruce gave Tony a stunned look, then gave him a hesitant smile. "Thank you." He said quietly.

Tony nodded and took off. Bruce put the communicator in his ear, incredibly grateful that he'd have help keeping control while things were getting violent. Because letting the other guy out up here would be incredibly bad.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Thor had little to do while the Midgardians looked for the Tesseract, so he opted to spend time by the cage Loki had been placed in. It gave him time to think.

He had begun to learn a lesson, the last time he'd been here on Midgard. He wasn't quite sure it was the lesson Odin had wanted him to learn, though. Oh, to be sure, he had begun to learn restraint and foresight, rather than rushing into battle blindly and with no thought to the consequences, but he had begun to learn other things as well.

Things like thinking for himself, and not obeying blindly. Like not automatically assuming that Odin was infallible. Thor had spent much of the last year going over his childhood in his mind and had finally realized that there had been things amiss as far back as he could remember, where Loki had been concerned. Things Odin had said, had done, or had encouraged. Things his friends had said, done, and encouraged. And worst, things he had said and done and encouraged.

Thor had begun to understand why Loki had gone so far astray when Thor had been banished. The true miracle was that it had not happened before now. Thor had been ... troubled ... by how little many in Asgard had mourned the loss of their youngest prince. Thor had taken to spending more and more time with his mother, one of the few in the realm who truly mourned Loki's death. They had become much closer as a result, not that they'd ever been estranged. And then Odin had revealed that Loki was alive, and headed to Earth.

Thor's first thought had been to wonder just how long Odin had known Loki was alive. His second had been incredible gratitude that Loki was alive. His third had been a grim determination to save his brother and protect him. He'd had little hope it would work, at least at first. Now, knowing that Loki might well be controlled, hope for Loki's salvation was restored.

He was still chiding himself for his rather severe lapse in control earlier. He still did not entirely understand what had possessed him, to try to smash Captain Rogers so. He'd had no idea the mortal's shield was so formidable. By all rights, the mortal ought to have been smashed to bits, which would have been very poorly done of him. Especially since the man had only asked him to put his hammer down and talk peaceably. Evidently he still had much to learn when it came to restraint and foresight.

Loki seemed content to keep his silence, yet further proof he was not himself. Under any other circumstance, he would have had something to say about Thor hanging about the way he was.

Thor had actually almost dozed off when the flying machine they rode in shook like horse ridding its coat of water. There was a near-instant scramble from the Midgardians, and Thor quickly realized there was some threat afoot. Possibly Loki's mind-controlled cohorts. Thor started to grab his hammer, then stopped himself. These were mortals. The ones called Stark and Banner aside, none of them had the strength or armor to deflect a blow from Mjolnir. To strike any of them would be to kill them. His fists would be weapon enough. He left Mjolnir sitting by Loki's cage and hurried off to assist in the defense.

He could hear someone, a female by the tenor of the voice, speaking, alerting everyone as to the flying machine's status and the whereabouts of the attackers. As he did not know the layout of the machine, he mostly ignored her announcements and followed his ears to where the battle was being fought.

The attackers knew what they were about. Though Thor managed to take the first by surprise, thanks to coming up on him from behind, the man got over the surprise quickly enough and proved to be an able combatant. Thor well remembered the running battle he had engaged in, last time he'd been on Midgard, and this man was of equal or greater skill to the men he'd had to fight then. It was a bit easier this time, as he was not stripped of his powers, but not by much.

He'd left the first man behind, knocked unconscious and sprawled on the floor, and had begun to contend with a second when the flying machine unexpectedly started to tilt, throwing him off his feet and sending both him and his opponent tumbling into one of the nearby walls. Thor managed to recover himself first, and was able to knock the second man out before he regained his feet.

Thor made his way forward, with a bit more difficulty now that the machine was tilted, seeking any other opponents. He heard Director Fury's voice saying something about someone named Barton, then Agent Romanov answering him.

About a minute later, the machine righted itself, and within moments of that, Agent Romanov's voice sounded again, saying she had Barton in custody and he seemed to be himself again. A minute or two later, it was determined that all their opponents had been subdued. Fury told them to head for the conference room.

Thor immediately made his way there, wondering if Agent Romanov was correct and that Barton was himself. If he was one of the ones that had been controlled, that would mean there might be a feasible way to return Loki to himself.

Chapter Text

Natasha, Clint and Steve

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Natasha was moving the moment the helicarrier started to shake, not even waiting for anyone to start giving orders. Something had just happened, and given the situation, it was entirely likely they now had hostiles aboard the helicarrier.

Good thing. Natasha needed something to take her anger out on, other than Loki. The others had no idea how hard she'd had to fight the urge to try to break the bastard's neck before Thor said something about him not acting right, and the possibility of him being controlled was brought up.

Natasha's life had been ... brutal, to put it gently. She'd been a tool almost her entire life. Something to be used and then stored away or worse, tossed aside until needed. Then Clint had happened. He was the first person she'd ever encountered that had seen her as a person, not a tool. He'd brought her in instead of killing her. And Coulson had gone to bat for her.

She would kill and die for them, instantly and without regret or remorse. They belonged to her and were under her protection and it burned like the strongest acid that Clint had been taken. Phil had fought Fury's decision to split them up, had tried to reason with him, Natasha knew, but Fury had forced the issue. Now they were paying the price. She was going to kill Fury for this. Slowly. Painfully. In the most brutal way she knew.

Such was her anger that the first invader she encountered went down to a knife in the throat in three seconds flat. The second fell to a jolt from her gauntlets, twitching spastically on the floor. The third at least saw her coming, and thus provided a bit more of a fight, forcing her to use a few of her martial arts moves. Pitifully few, unfortunately. Clearly, he hadn't been one for hand to hand combat.

Then Fury's voice came over the comms, saying that Barton was aboard, and heading for the jets in order to escape.

Natasha took off like a bat out of hell. She was fully aware that anyone in his path might try to kill him if they saw him. This, she could not allow, nor tolerate. They *would* find a way to break the mind control. But only if she got to Clint first. Everyone else would shoot to kill. She, on the other hand, would fight to detain him.

Fortunately, her reputation preceded her, and the agents she encountered were swift to get out of her way, which allowed her to move more rapidly than she otherwise would. She finally spotted Clint and snuck up behind him.

Unfortunately, Clint's code name was not mere chance or hyperbole. As befit his reputation as the best marksman on the planet, his vision was incredible ... including his peripheral vision. He didn't have to turn his head to see her coming.

But her familiarity with him allowed her to know what his first response would be, so she was able to intercept and deflect his attempt to put an arrow in her. After that, the fight became something of a mad scramble. They both knew each other's fighting styles very well, which made it difficult to outwit each other, and Natasha was further hampered by her desire to merely detain Clint, rather than kill him, while he was clearly not operating under a similar restraint.

Eventually she managed to hit him hard enough that he fell and smacked his head rather hard on the catwalk they were fighting on. He gave his head a shake and did not immediately leap to the attack. Instead, he looked up at her, expression confused, and called her by her nickname.

Natasha wasn't about to lose her advantage, so she belted him a second time, knocking him unconscious. Then she called for Phil, who'd been somewhere else in the carrier helping with the defense, to get him to help her haul Clint to a secure room. Natasha was, unfortunately, nowhere near strong enough to carry or drag Clint quite that far on her own.

Phil arrived a few moments later, and gave Clint's unconscious body a look. To pretty much anyone else, it would have been a bland, inscrutable look, but to Natasha, who'd known Phil for years, and had worked closely with him that entire time, he looked worried and relieved.

Together, they hauled him to a room where he could be restrained and watched. Clint came awake a minute later, shaking his head and looking very confused.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

"You have heart."

Clint was going to have nightmares about those words for the rest of his life, thanks to what had followed. The spear's touch had burned. Burned his blood, boiling it in his veins. Burned his mind, turning his will to ash. And in its wake, had been Loki.

Obey Loki. Worship Loki. Anticipate Loki's wants and needs. Tell Loki everything he wanted to know, and more besides.

It had been a mantra. No, more than that. It had been all he had been capable of. Anything and everything else had been shoved into the depths and locked away. Forcing the still rational part of Clint to sit there and watch in horror as he bent over backwards to please a mad godling. And just to add insult to injury, the bastard hadn't let them sleep, and had barely remembered to tell them to feed and water themselves.

Clint had been gibbering in horror from the moment he and the mercenaries got on the jet to head for the helicarrier. He was going to end up killing his own people. He might not like most of them, and didn't trust most of them as far as he could throw them, but he had never wanted to kill any of them.

By some miracle, he caught something of a break. They didn't encounter too many people. Or at least, he didn't. He'd been able to shoot the computer and leave without having to kill anyone he knew. Then Nat had come out of nowhere, and he'd gone right back to gibbering in horror. Please, gods, don't let him kill her.

He should have known he didn't have a chance in hell. It was a bit of a relief when he went down. The sudden loosening of the control he'd been under was completely unexpected, but before he could really do anything about it, his world went dark.

He woke on a bed, in restraints. And himself, for the first time in days. The mantra was gone. He was exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry as hell, but he was himself. Now he just had to convince Nat of that. Oh, and Phil, he mentally amended, as his handler came into his line of vision.

"Ow. What the hell did you do to me?" He ground out.

"Cranial recalibration." Natasha said, almost but not quite smirking. "I hit you really hard on the head." Then she gave him a penetrating look. "Are you tracking?" She wanted to know.

"Yeah." He said, then gave his head another shake. "How many ... " He started.

"Don't do that ... " Natasha started, only for Phil to speak over her.

"There have actually been no casualties that can be attributed to you, Clint. Injuries, yes. Deaths, no. Even the man whose eye was used to open the vault survived. Last word from Stuttgart was that he lost the eye, but that he would live." Phil told Clint. "And I haven't heard any deaths reported here on the helicarrier." Then he bent down to look Clint in the eye. "And you were not acting of your own free will, so you will not blame yourself for those injuries. Am I clear, Agent Barton?"

Clint couldn't help but grin at Phil a little. "Clear, sir."

Phil nodded and stood up. "I think we can remove the restraints, Natasha. Let Fury know. We might be able to use this on Loki."

"What do you mean?" Clint wanted to know, pulling his arms away from the bed as Natasha undid the restraints.

"We think Loki may be being controlled as well." Phil told him. "Can you confirm that?"

Clint shook his head. "If he was, he never said. And it wasn't like the control gave me a telepathic connection to him or anything, to pick up on his state of mind."

"Well, we ought to be able to find out soon enough." Phil said.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Steve Rogers was not the biggest fan of Nick Fury or of SHIELD.

Steve had been able to understand them wanting to break the truth to him gently, and thus putting him in a 1940's style room to wake up. He could even appreciate it, because waking up in the sort of medical room he now knew existed would have sent him straight into battle mode, sure he'd been found and incarcerated by Hydra.

But he disliked Fury's continuing manipulations, his insistence on tucking Steve away, and keeping Steve surrounded by things from the 40's. Fury insisted he was trying to keep Steve from overloading, but Steve wasn't buying it.

It was convenient that Fury seemed to have bought into a dolled-up version of who Steve was ... some sort of perfect soldier, who always obeyed orders and so on. Clearly, the man had either never seen or paid no attention to the records the SSR had of him. A guy who'd lied about who he was four times in an attempt to get into the Army, and who had gone behind enemy lines against orders (and, many would say, all common sense) was not exactly a picture-perfect soldier. Steve had no intentions of informing Fury of his error.

Any doubt that Fury was angling for something had died when he showed up with the information on the Tesseract. The files he'd found in his 'apartment' had made it rather blatantly clear. Mostly, it was Tony Stark's file that tipped him off.

There'd been a heavy slant on Tony's philandering, irresponsible behavior prior to the creation of the Iron Man suits. There had been remarkably little on Tony after that point. But Steve was damn good at reading people, and reading between the lines. Something had happened. Something big. Nothing else made sense for the sudden existence of the Iron Man suit. A man who went around blowing the hell out of terrorist cells on his own dime in a special-made suit was on a mission. Steve had no idea what exactly had happened, but he knew that that sort of big event could change a man considerably. Both for good and for ill. From what he'd been able to piece together between the lines, it had changed Tony for the better.

So why was Fury trying so hard to make Steve dislike him? Unfortunately, Steve didn't know what Fury was up to, but he was keeping an eye out.

Meeting Tony, on the other hand, was a shock. He looked so much like a slightly-older Howard it physically hurt. It had left Steve wrong-footed, stinging from the painful reminder of all he'd lost so very recently (to his perception anyway). Combined with Tony's admittedly rather ... acidic ... personality, they hadn't exactly hit it off.

The meeting had been another slap. Tony's rapid-fire babble with Banner had both reminded him (again) of Howard and been another reminder of how much things had changed.

He'd stopped in to talk to Tony after the stick had been carted into storage, and Tony had pointed out a few things. Steve had privately agreed with him, but knowing they were being watched, he'd played his part and verbally disagreed, then stomped off. He'd have to explain (and apologize) later.

Finding the guns had been an unpleasant, very much unwanted surprise. It had, to be perfectly honest, been the breaking point. He would never fight for people who wanted to use something like the Tesseract as a weapon. He'd dragged one of the guns back to the lab, Fury had been there, and words had been said. Fury'd been forced to storm off, and Steve had left again, angry and trying to think what he would do once this thing with Loki and the Chitauri was over with. He wasn't going to stay with SHIELD, that was for damn sure.

Then the helicarrier was attacked. Fury sent Tony to fix one of the turbines, and Steve cut into the comm.

"I'll meet you there, Stark. You're going to need another pair of eyes." He told Tony.

Miraculously, Tony didn't argue with him. Tony even asked him to help him, sending him to check the relays. Granted, Steve hadn't been much use there, since he knew next to nothing about how electricity was dealt with in this time, but Tony hadn't lost patience with him. Tony had just talked him through it while he cut the debris out of the rotor.

Then the attackers showed up, and Steve got busy for a while. Too long. Tony almost got chewed up by the rotor before he could get to the lever to slow it down. But once the mad scramble was done, and they'd both started into the carrier, they got word that Clint Barton had been caught, and was apparently free of the mind control, and a meeting was being called.

They both hurried to the meeting room, and Steve watched as Phil and Natasha escorted another man (clearly, Clint Barton, if the wary expression on his face was anything to go by) into the room. Natasha briefed them on the fight she'd had with Clint, and how he'd come back to himself after she'd knocked him unconscious.

Thor, sitting across from Steve, sat forward, looking eager. "Would this method work to release my brother?" He wanted to know.

"It's worth a try." Phil said. "At worst, you'll give him a headache. If we're lucky, it'll break the control he's under."

Thor was on his feet in a flash. "I will go at once!" And he took off at a jog before anyone could say anything.

"Does he know how to get into the cage?" Tony asked.

"No." Natasha said. "I'd better go after him so he doesn't try to open it with his hammer." She squeezed Barton's shoulder briefly before she left. Steve wondered what that was about.

A rather awkward silence fell on the little group while they waited to find out whether Loki could be helped or not.

Chapter Text

Loki

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Loki had not been having the best time of late.

It all began with Thor, of course. Loki loved his brother, make no mistake. But Loki was ... painfully aware ... of Thor's faults. Nor was he the only one. Both Loki and Frigga had remonstrated with Odin repeatedly, trying to get it through the Allfather's thick skull that Thor was not ready to rule his own bedchamber, never mind a kingdom. Their words had fallen on deaf ears.

So Loki had gotten a bit desperate, and put together an admittedly mad plan to derail Thor's coronation. To prove to Odin once and for all that Thor wasn't ready. The speed with which things got out of hand had been stunning. Loki had expected Thor to rant and rave and urge Odin to retaliate against the Jotuns, but he had not expected Thor to rally his cohorts and go to Jotunheim with the intent to start a war. Loki hadn't thought Thor was *that* thoughtless.

It was there, in that wasteland of ice, that Loki's world had come crashing down around him.

He'd known all his life that he was ... different. There were few Aesir men who varied from the general mold of tall, broad, muscular, and light of hair and eye. That Loki had been tall, thin, and black-haired had always been a curiosity to him. Especially given that his mother was blonde, and Odin had been red of hair, before it had gone white with age.

Further, he had always been a studious one, more interested in books than physical pursuits. And he had had a great gift with magic. Both of which were seen as unfit occupations for a man in Asgard. Magic especially was frowned upon, seen as fit only for women, or a coward's tool in battle. Loki had been subjected to a lot of grief thanks to his preference for both. He had borne the Aesirs' sneering contempt as best he was able, and told himself they were jealous of his easy ability with magic, of his intelligence. It had eased the sting somewhat.

But in his worst nightmares, he had never once suspected the truth. That he was not Aesir at all. That he was, in fact, Jotun.

Loki, like every Asgardian, had grown up hearing about the bestial, vicious, monstrous Jotun. The horrifying Frost Giants, who killed without thought or concern, who reveled in death and destruction. The creatures who were little more than beasts, capable of no craft, living in caves of ice and killing each other for sport.

To say he had not taken the revelation of his true ancestry well was to vastly understate the case. Finding out you're the monster you heard about, and had trained to kill, all your life was ... rather traumatizing. Loki had largely been a gibbering mess from there on out. He freely admitted he'd made huge mistakes, lashing out at everyone in range, making exceedingly questionable decisions. In his admittedly less-than-rational state, he'd seen no real place for himself. Death had seemed the best option for all concerned. So he'd let go of Gungnir.

And *of course* his situation had gone from bad to worse. He had no idea how long he'd fallen in the darkness before he'd been dragged into the Chitauri's realm. Thanos and his minions had taken no time to take advantage of Loki's less than stable mental health.

Thus had begun endless months of manipulation and outright torture. Constant whispers in his ear telling him he was a worthless monster, with no family, no friends, no help, no hope. It had been true enough (at least by Loki's less-than-healthy reasoning) that he hadn't been able to shake it off. Thanos had even done everything in his power to turn Loki completely against Odin and Thor, twisting the events that had led to Loki landing in his control until Loki wasn't sure which version of events was true, anymore.

Coupled with the constant physical abuse that broke his body down, Loki'd had virtually no chance of keeping his own mind. And then, just to make sure he was, and would remain Thanos' puppet, Thanos had used the spear's mind control capabilities on Loki. Long before he'd sent Loki to Midgard to assist in conquering it. As a result, Loki had been a ragged, exhausted mess when he'd arrived.

But Thanos had failed in one particular. As much as he had tried, Thanos hadn't been able to poison Loki against Thor completely. Odin, yes, but not Thor. Thor had sometimes been unthinking and cruel throughout their lives, but far more often, Thor had been one of the few to defend Loki and speak on his behalf. Their long childhood together, and Thor's unwavering faith in his brother, even in the face of Loki's unhinged mental state when Thor was banished, had mitigated much of the damage Thanos had tried to inflict.

So much so that Loki had pinned his hope of salvation on his frequently unobservant big brother. He'd hoped that at some point, Thor would realize something was amiss. Loki had done what he could within the constraints of the brainwashing and control he'd been subjected to to alert Thor to there being a problem. Ranting about ruling and freedom being a lie, and otherwise staying silent had been the best he could manage.

Completely unexpectedly, Thor had picked up on it with startling rapidity. He'd even thought to test if it was some sort of shenanigan Loki was pulling, by trying to dispel a (nonexistent) illusion on Loki's eyes. Clearly, Thor's banishment had changed the big lug and taught him some measure of discernment.

His biggest problem was that Barton was coming with some of the mercenaries, to break him out. If they succeeded, Loki knew he would end up fighting, and very probably trying to kill, whoever they set against him, and all chance of salvation would be lost. That none of the mercenaries or Barton had gotten as far as his cage had been a relief.

Then, a few minutes after the fighting stopped, Thor came charging into the room. Loki was more than faintly amused when Thor was briefly stymied by his lack of knowledge on how the cage operated, but then Romanov showed up and opened it for him, standing guard just outside, for all the good it would do, if Loki were to get past Thor.

Thor hauled him to his feet, his expression somewhere between pained and hopeful. "Forgive me, brother. This is the only way."

That was the only warning Loki got before Thor proceeded to punch him in the head. Repeatedly. While holding one of Loki's arms so that he could neither escape nor dodge the blows. Loki had just long enough to fear that Thor had decided the 'only way' to solve the problem was to kill Loki with his bare hands before the third or fourth punch sent him reeling hard enough that he felt the stranglehold the mind control had on him loosen. At which point he realized what Thor intended. Not to kill him, but to knock him out.

Two punches later, Thor finally succeeded, and Loki's world went dark. He woke shortly thereafter with a splitting headache ... and with his mind his own again. He came remarkably close to collapsing in hysterical relief, clamping his mouth shut against the inane babble that wanted to pour out of him. Such was his state of mind that when Thor gathered him into something that was a cross between a hug and a cuddle, Loki neither protested nor tried to move.

After a few moments, Thor shifted and gripped his chin gently, bringing Loki's head up, probably so Thor could see his eyes. The pleased expression on Thor's face was evidence something had changed. Thor's hand slid down to the base of his neck in the familiar grip he used so often on Loki, one that spoke of great affection and tenderness even when Thor had been exasperated with Loki in the past.

"Your eyes are green again." Thor said. "Are you now yourself once more, brother?"

Well, that was a loaded question, wasn't it? "As much as ever I was." Loki finally said after a few moments. "And we are not ... " He started.

Thor cut him off. "You were not in condition to heed my words earlier, but I charge you to hear them now, brother. I care not who your dam and sire were. You could be the son of a bilgesnipe for all I care. You have been, and will remain, my brother."

Well then. There was little doubt Thor meant every word of that. Whatever Thor's faults might be, he had ever been earnest and honest in his affections. If Thor said he considered Loki to still be his brother, despite his being a Jotun, he meant it. The surprise and relief of it nearly made Loki giddy. But the surprises weren't over yet, because Thor was still regarding him with earnest concern.

"I have had much time to think, this last year, Loki. And I have realized that I have done ill by you far too often." Thor said. "I will not beg your forgiveness, for I do not think I deserve it, but I promise you, I will do all in my power not to fail you again." Then Thor smiled. "Mother charged me to convey her love and joy that you lived, if you could be made to see sense." He said.

Well damn. The big lug was determined to turn him into a gibbering mess, wasn't he? Loki had to take a couple deep breaths to keep his emotions from getting the better of him. At that point, much to his relief, Romanov intervened.

"I hate to break this up, but Loki, we need to know how to shut this invasion down."

Damn.

"We shall go to the meeting room, and you can tell us what you know, Loki." Thor decreed, making sure Loki had his feet under him before the two of them escorted Loki out of the cage.

It was a brief walk to the meeting room. Loki eyed the gathering warily, but to his surprise, the only ones who looked displeased were Fury and Barton. All the others were either neutral in expression or looked relieved.

Barton walked over, scowling slightly, and stood a few feet away. "I don't like you much right now." Barton growled. "But I get that you weren't doing this of your own free will, so I won't hold a grudge."

Since that had been more than Loki had expected to get from the man, he merely nodded his acceptance.

"So, Loki. How do we shut this down?" Stark asked.

Loki grimaced as he took a seat next to Thor. "I am afraid it is too late. Breaking me from the mind control won't break the others. They will continue with their set tasks. By now, Erik Selvig has the Tesseract in position." He admitted regretfully. "And I have no idea how to stop the Tesseract, or close the portal. Such information was not vouchsafed to minions." And it stung that he was one.

"So who's behind this, then? Who are we up against?" Rogers wanted to know.

"Thanos." Loki said. Beside him, Thor jerked in alarm. "I do not know if you know of him, but he is exceeding powerful. And completely insane. He courts Death."

"He's suicidal?" Romanov asked, looking faintly confused.

"No. Death is ... a being. A being whose job it is to guide the dead to their final resting places. Thanos ... desires this being, and courts its favor. By sending it gifts." Loki said.

"Gifts ... as in dead people." Barton said.

Loki nodded grimly. "He has decided that Midgard's billions will be his next offering."

"Where is the portal going to be?" Fury demanded.

"Over New York City. Thanos wanted it over somewhere with a considerable population. I managed to convince him here would be better than Asia. That conquering your country would count for more in the eventual conquering of Earth than sheer numbers." It had been the only thing Loki had been able to do to mitigate the damage. New York City was populous, but nowhere near as much so as much of eastern Asia.

Several people looked rather discomfited at the thought of the portal opening over Asia. Stark looked positively grim.

"I'm calling in backup." He declared, pulling a phone out of a pocket.

"Stark!" Fury barked.

Stark gave Fury a furious look. "We're up against an army, Fury. And a guy that thinks killing people is the way to a woman's ... or is it a man? Or something else? Whatever, off subject. The way to their loved one's heart. We have no fucking idea how to close the portal, which means we're not going to be able to cut this off at the pass. And yes, we're badass. I mean, you've got me, Big Green over there, and Blondie." Stark indicated Thor with that last name. "Not to mention the rest of the gang." He motioned to the others at the table, save Loki.

Loki corrected his assumption. "You also have myself." He said. Because he owed Thanos a debt, that he planned to pay. Thanos wasn't going to enjoy collecting the debt.

Stark gave him a surprised look, then grinned toothily. "And Reindeer Games, evidently." He said. "We pack a hell of a punch, but this is, I repeat, an army. We need all the help we can get." And then, ignoring anything further from Fury, he dialed a number and began to talk.

Chapter Text

Charles, Warren, and Scott

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Charles was in his office, eating lunch and doing a bit of paperwork between classes when the phone rang. He started to sigh in resignation before he saw Tony Stark's name on the caller ID. That made him smile in quiet pleasure.

While Charles had quite a bit of money, and could have traveled in the same circles as Howard Stark and his son, Charles had been far too busy with other things to play the socialite game. Between that and the fact he had been over a decade younger than Howard, and considerably older than Tony, he'd known them no better than anyone else who was not in their immediate circles.

Then, Scott had come into his care, and Charles had sought a way to help Scott control his optical blasts. In so doing, he had evidently caught Tony's attention and encouraged him to investigate, because Tony had shown up one day, curious as the proverbial cat.

In the years since, Tony had been a godsend to the mutants Charles had taken under his wing. While the discovery that ruby quarts mitigated Scott's optic blasts had been made by Hank, the design of Scott's visor had been largely Tony's doing. Tony had also supplied most of the parts for Cerebro over the years, and had been the one to invent and build the Danger Room, among other projects.

And while his technological help had been invaluable, Tony's complete lack of fear for mutants had been of nearly as great value to Charles. Tony had taken even such visible mutations as Hank and Kurt's in stride, and had been openly envious of Warren and later Ororo's, ability to fly. Such easy acceptance and blase' unconcern was precious, as it showed the children that it could happen, that there really were people who didn't see them as monsters or weapons.

Of course, Tony wasn't uniformly popular at the mansion. Charles knew for a fact that Tony drove Scott around the bend, and took great pleasure in doing so. He also, perversely, enjoyed goading Jean, despite that she was nearly as powerful a telepath as Charles, and could rearrange Tony's brain on him if she was provoked enough.

Charles picked up the phone before it could ring for the third time. "Hello, Tony."

"Hello Charles." Tony said. Charles frowned, as Tony did not sound like his usual devil-may-care self. Something was, apparently, amiss. "Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I need you to pack as many of your team as happen to be in the mansion right now onto your jet and get them to the city ASAP. We have hostiles incoming within an hour, and we're going to need all the help we can get to kick their asses."

"We?" Charles asked, even as he hit the assembly alarm. Tony would not ask this of him if the situation was not dire.

"Yeah, me and a bunch of others." Tony said. "One-eye there yet?"

Charles tried not to laugh, as Logan had started using that nickname with Scott practically from the first day, unaware it was Tony's most frequent nickname for Scott. "He'll be here in a few more seconds."

"Great. Put me on speaker when he gets there. I'll fill you both in at the same time."

Scott hustled into the room literally five seconds later, still zipping his uniform. "Professor?"

"One eye!" Tony called, his voice tinny thanks to the speaker. "Got a situation developing in the city. We have a very large number of hostiles incoming within an hour. Probably a lot sooner than that." Tony said. "We need backup."

"We who?" Scott demanded, mentally shifting into his 'team leader' mode.

"Me and six others. One can fly. Another's hell on wheels when it comes to long range shots. Everyone else is a close-range fighter, though we've got some *seriously* heavy muscle." Tony told him.

"And we're up against ... ?" Scott wanted to know.

There was a muffled consultation on the other end. "Foot soldiers and fliers. Mostly small, but some are going to be damn big. Lots of energy weapons."

"So you need more air support." Scott said.

"Yeah, though I won't say no to more heavy hitters, with the numbers we're looking at. Literal army, one-eye. This is going to be ugly."

Scott actually smiled. "I think I know of at least one person here who will take that as a challenge." He said. "I'll get the team assembled and we'll be in the air in five minutes. Meet you there."

Tony hung up before Scott had even gotten out of the room. The last thing Charles heard from Scott was Scott calling for the team.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Warren had been relaxing in the media room when the alarm went off. He bolted to his feet, then hesitated, waiting to find out if he was needed. He wasn't always, as his particular mode of flight did not lend itself to tight spaces as well as Ororo's. Of course, the trade off there being that Ororo was claustrophobic, so the spaces couldn't be too tight.

"Everyone to the jet!" Scott called. "Full armor. I'll tell you what I know en route."

Warren raced for the elevator, barely beating Jean and Logan there. Ororo came skidding around the corner just as they piled in, but seeing how full the elevator was, she veered towards the stairs. Remy was right behind her, and followed her to the stairs.

Long practice allowed Warren to scramble into his uniform with relative ease, wings flexing and twitching as he moved. Kurt had already been and gone, his teleportation allowing him to move a lot faster than the rest of them, but Warren was the second one out of the locker room.

They all piled into the jet less than a minute later, and Ororo had them up and out and airborne a minute after that.

Warren listened as Scott outlined the situation, and scowled. This was very, very bad.

The Worthingtons had been as rich as the Starks, back in Howard's father's day. Howard and Tony had later vastly increased the Stark family's wealth, but the two families had still inhabited the same social circles. Warren had even been near Tony's age, being only a few years younger. Despite that, the two of them hadn't met until they'd been adults, mostly because Warren's father had kept Warren's social life to the bare minimum to prevent anyone from discovering his status as a mutant.

They'd found something of a refuge in each other. Both of them were the rich scions of rich families. Both of them had been bitter, bitter disappointments to their fathers, and had grown up without much in the way of parental support, supervision, or approval. They'd both had to deal with the fact that pretty much no one would see them for who they really were, that all anyone would ever see was 'Stark' and 'Worthington'.

They'd both had a period in their lives when they'd been utter idiots, too. In point of fact, that was how Tony had found out Warren was a mutant. They'd gone out somewhere, gotten thoroughly drunk off their asses, and Tony's driver had (Warren figured this out much after the fact) driven them back to Tony's place. Warren had woken the next morning on Tony's couch in nothing but his underwear with the world's worst headache ... and Tony standing a few feet away, staring at his unbound wings in awe.

Tony's only comment had been to point Warren in Charles' direction. Warren had ended up being very grateful for that. He still had days when he felt like a freak, but thanks to Charles and the others here at the mansion, they were increasingly few in number. And he got to see and talk to Tony quite frequently.

The news wasn't good. Army of bad guys, coming in over the city. Some sort of portal they couldn't close that would be letting them in.

"Well, I've got the full roster on the jet, plus a new one you haven't met yet, Stark." Scott said. "Goes by Wolverine. Close range heavy hitter. So who have you got on your side?"

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Scott didn't much like Tony. He was rude, crude, abrasive and antagonistic. He was also arrogant and irresponsible as hell. And he flirted with Jean constantly. He was also, much to Scott's chagrin, frighteningly smart and responsible for the fact that Scott could see. Hank, lord love him, had tried, but he was not a genius at construction and design. It had been Tony that fit Scott's visor with all the bells and whistles, including things that compensated for the inevitable loss of peripheral vision, and allowed him to see at any light intensity, including pitch dark. Which meant he could function essentially normally. So Scott had refrained from kicking Tony's ass over the years, out of gratitude for that.

That said, Tony was not an alarmist, and never, ever, ever asked for help. So for him to be calling asking for help to deal with an army, Scott had taken him dead serious.

"Well." Tony said, in answer to his question about who was coming from his end. "We have me, then there's Thor. Ororo's going to *like* him, and vice versa. He can fly, and control lightning. And he has a big-ass hammer."

That made Scott's eyes widen. That ... sounded an awful lot like *the* Thor, the Norse god. Just who had Tony teamed up with?

"Then there's Loki. Good with knives, daggers, and other bladed weapons, and has a limited long-range capacity."

"Stark ... " Scott started. This was ... getting very strange.

"Then there's Hawkeye. Scary-good long range. Never misses. And his buddy, Black Widow. She's short range, hand to hand fighter, but she's got some sort of electrical doohickey she uses, works like the tazer from hell. Then we have Hulk."

Scott made a choking noise. "Hulk? He's on your side?"

"Yep. Harlem wasn't on him, one-eye. That was the army. They pulled a bone-headed maneuver and created that other ... thing. Then pulled Hulk in to fix their mess." Tony told him. "Bruce Banner, which is who he is when he isn't big and green, is a nice guy. Science geek."

Hank's head had swung around when he heard Bruce's name. "Bruce Banner? I have heard of him. He is quite well thought of in his specialty, but he has not been heard from in some time."

"And now you know why." Tony said. "Don't worry, I'm working on fixing it. Last but not least." And here, Tony's tone turned distinctly smug. "We have the one and only Captain America. The real deal, ladies and gents. Accept no substitutes."

Scott damn near swallowed his tongue.

Like a lot of kids, Scott had grown up with Captain America as his hero of choice. Unlike some, Scott's fascination with him hadn't faded with time. Mostly because he'd been put in charge of the X-Men.

Scott had been very young then, and more than a little intimidated at the responsibility that was being placed on his shoulders. So he'd looked to the Captain for his example, tried to emulate the Captain as much as he could. It had necessitated doing some serious research, and separating the wheat from the chaff, where information about the Captain had been concerned. So much of the information available was ... questionable, at best. It had taken time to ferret out old war newsreels that showed the Captain on the war front, and ironically enough, a number of discussions with Charles, who had been a boy when World War Two was raging, and thus had heard about the Captain's exploits and triumphs in the paper and on the radio.

Scott had never dreamed he'd ever meet the man. He, like pretty much everyone else, had assumed the man long dead, lost at sea in his final sacrifice. How in the name of anything the man was alive, Scott didn't know. But the thought of working with him had Scott's head spinning. It took him a minute to get his mouth and brain working again, as he steadfastly ignored Logan's growing amusement.

"Captain America, sir?" Scott finally said. "I think, in this situation, I will bow to your greater expertise. I know how to handle small-scale conflicts, but a full-on war is something entirely different." He manfully ignored Tony's cackle. "Tony can fill you in on our numbers and capabilities."

Chapter Text

Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Storm

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Remy had always been skeptical of so-called heroes. Especially ones like Captain America. People, in his experience, just weren't that noble and good-hearted. And there couldn't possibly be any way that Captain America, especially, could live up to the legends. After all, how good could a guy that depended primarily on a shield be?

Turned out, that Cap was ... at least not a complete moron. He certainly had a good grasp of strategy. For the most part, he kept the X-Men together, acknowledging that they knew each other fairly well after a minimum of six months (in Logan's case) and as much as a decade (Scott, Hank, and Jean) of working together.

He had the folks capable of flight spreading out and charged with keeping the enemy as contained as humanly possible. He put Stormy on hitting the portal itself, alongside Thor, since they were able to control lightning (and wasn't that a trip and a half!). Everyone else was scattered around on the ground in pairs.

They needed as many long-range fighters on the ground as possible, so Remy volunteered to work with the Captain. One, he was one of the few on the team who wouldn't go all goo-goo eyed at working with the man. Scott was still looking stunned ten minutes after finding out *and* with his eyes hidden from sight. That was no mean feat. Several of the others weren't too much better. Plus, Remy hadn't been with the X-Men long ... only about a year, and his life had ensured that he remained ... adaptable, so he'd suffer less for working with someone he didn't know.

As fast as the X-Jet was, by the time they got there, the portal was open, and enemy fliers were pouring out of it at a truly alarming rate. Remy laughed when Logan didn't even wait for the jet to land before he jumped out the back, earning him an irritated yell from Scott. Thankfully, Scott had known better than to recommend depending on Logan's teamwork abilities. Angel, Ro and Kurt ditched moments later, but at least that had been planned.

The rest of them hustled out when the jet landed. Unfortunately, the jet didn't have any offensive capabilities, so it couldn't be used in the fight. Scott had been forced to land on top of a relatively flat building and pray the jet would still be there when this was over.

Remy mentally cringed at the Captain's wide-eyed gape when he saw Hank, fully expecting the Captain to flip his shit. He was from the forties, after all, and mutants had been all but unknown then ... and prejudiced attitudes about a number of things had been rife, the same as today (even if it was about different things, now). But then the Captain seemed to shake it off.

"Sorry for staring." He said. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Hank just smiled at him and waved off his apology, taking off at a galloping run with Iron Man flying overhead, to find himself some targets to beat up on.

Then the Captain had turned to Remy. Remy hadn't quite been able to prevent himself from giving the man a defiant look. He either ignored it or didn't realize that was what Remy was doing. He just held out a hand and gave Remy a friendly smile.

"Gambit? Good to meet you." He said.

Remy shook his hand, but that was really all they had time for. The fliers were zooming by overhead, shooting pretty much everything in sight. Remy wasted no further time digging into his pocket for his collapsed bo staff and some cards. He was just grateful there would be no lack of ammunition for this fight. Cards made for damn good ammo for him, but even he could only carry so many packs of cards in his pockets. Fortunately, with all the rubble getting kicked up, if he ran out of cards, he'd still be able to go after the fliers. And if any of the increasing number of foot soldiers was stupid enough to try their luck, well then they deserved what they'd get.

For a little bit, Remy fell into an easy pattern of charge, aim, throw. Unfortunately, not for too long. Only about two minutes, maybe three. Even then, the entire time he was focused on the fliers, he could hear the Captain's shield hitting things behind him. Remy's opinion of his abilities improved further thanks to the fact that he didn't once have to defend himself from an attack from behind.

Unfortunately, after a minute or two, there were just too many foot soldiers on the ground for him to ignore. He gave a feral grin as he extended his bo staff. It was a Tony special, as the man had somehow managed to get his hands on the formula for adamantium, and had Remy test it against his ability to charge things.

Turned out, adamantium took a charge beautifully, but it was tough enough not to explode, even after innumerable charges. Tony had promptly made Remy the bostaff, which not only facilitated Remy's acrobatics and made for a hell of a weapon even when Remy wasn't charging it, but allowed him to use his charge safely (for himself anyway) at short range.

Now that he was paying more direct attention to the Captain, Remy was ... thoroughly startled. Because he'd assumed the guy was just standing stolidly in place, shield-bashing everything in sight. He'd been partially correct, but he'd missed the magnitude of it by quite a margin, and had been vastly incorrect about the rest.

Because the Captain was throwing his shield every which way, and unless something managed to slap it out of the air unexpectedly, it always returned to Rogers' hands. It was virtually identical to Scott's ability to bounce his optic blasts off multiple surfaces to hit things. And Rogers wasn't exactly standing still. He was leaping and twisting almost as well as Remy himself could. And Remy had been accused, many times, of being half cat he was so flexible and acrobatic.

Maybe there was such thing as real heroes after all. Because the Captain definitely seemed to be living up to his legend.

Remy shook himself and turned back to the fight, leaping over a Chitauri as it rushed him, trying to skewer him with its half-spear, half-ray gun. Remy planted the butt end of his staff on the back of the thing's belt before his feet even touched the ground and charged the staff, blowing the belt to bits and the Chitauri that was wearing it in half, then whirled, bo staff sweeping low to take another Chitauri out at the knees. In the same movement, he flung a handful of cards with his free hand, nailing three more approaching Chitauri.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Kurt teleported to the edge of the nearest building when he left the jet, and crouched there for a moment, observing the battle before he jumped in. He needed to get a feel for how fast the fliers moved, and what their weaknesses might be, that he could exploit, before he started fighting.

It didn't take him more than about a minute to figure out what he could do that would do the most good. It helped that the fliers were, for the most part, going in straight lines down the main thoroughfare in front of Stark Tower before they split off and started weaving all over the place. If he stuck close to the tower, he wouldn't have to contend with the fliers changing directions on him too much.

Kurt teleported, and landed on one of the fliers, between the driver and the shooter. He kicked the shooter in the face, then grabbed the helmet of the driver and teleported again, landing on a building roof, the struggling Chitauri driver dangling by his helmet. Kurt let him drop, and watched as the flier he'd deprived of its driver crashed, exploding rather spectacularly.

It took him a few more teleports before he had it down pat, but in the end, it was ridiculously easy to teleport the drivers out of the fliers. It helped that the drivers were hunched over with their heads down, shoulders braced against what was either a support harness or the steering system for the fliers, Kurt wasn't sure which. At any rate, the drivers were defenseless, and the shooters in the rear of the flier were usually concentrating on shooting things, not on the driver.

Within about two minutes, Kurt was teleporting as rapidly as he could manage, stripping drivers out of fliers and letting them drop off of buildings. Amusingly, the Chitauri did not seem to be in communication with each other, either that or they were really, really stupid, as they weren't changing tactics at all, not in response to him, or in response to any of the others that he could see.

And then, just after he'd landed on a roof and dropped his latest driver, something made a really big noise, attracting his attention. He turned to look, and stared in horror.

"Oh mein Gott." He whispered.

Normally, he tried not to lapse into German, mostly because none of the other X-Men were fluent in it, and it struck Kurt as rude to say things they couldn't understand. But for this, he would forgive himself for the slip up. Because flying down the street was ...

Kurt wasn't, actually, sure what the hell to call it. It bore a passing resemblance to a whale. A whale that was something like ten times the size of a blue whale, and had teeth taller than a man. And bony armor all over it. And somehow, this monstrosity flew through the air.

Kurt had largely been ignoring the lightning that was flashing like a strobe light against the increasingly dark sky. He trusted Ororo to control where the lightning hit, even if he didn't know Thor to trust him to do the same. He had, though, wondered what had them hitting things basically nonstop. If this sort of creature was what they'd been hitting, it explained a lot.

Kurt left the flying whale to the others. He had no hope whatever of bringing that monstrosity down. He wouldn't even know where to start. After a moment to regain his mental equilibrium, Kurt went back to depriving the smaller fliers of their drivers.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Storm smiled as she called the winds to bear her aloft. She loved flying. Loved the freedom of it, the exhilaration of it. She landed on one of the buildings next to Stark Tower. A few seconds later, a big, blonde-haired man landed a few feet away, hammer in hand.

This, then, was Thor. He certainly fit the descriptions of the legendary god.

"Milady Storm." Thor said, giving her what could only be described as a courtly bow. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am told by Anthony Stark that you are able to control lightning?"

"And many other aspects of weather." Storm said. Well, all of them really, but there was no cause to brag. "But lightning will be of most use to us here."

"Agreed. Shall we, then?" He asked, giving her a wide, happy grin before he turned his attention skyward and lifted his hammer.

Storm's eyes went wide. She could *feel* the sky responding. Feel the weather systems shifting, the rapid build up of clouds and electricity in the air that heralded the coming of lightning. She watched in surprise as multiple lightning strikes hit the head of Thor's hammer (without hurting him, it must be said) before he redirected it at the open portal over their heads.

Well then. Whether he was a god or not, she would leave to the theologists. Whatever he was, he certainly shared her ability to control lightning. Storm gave him a pleased, almost wild grin before she too tilted her head back and her eyes filmed white.

Storm swiftly discovered two things. One, she and Thor could not call lightning at the same time. When they did, the lightning went wild, unable to obey two masters at once. Secondly, she was able to aim multiple strikes in the time it took Thor to aim one, but his one was stronger than any one of hers, due to the fact that he called and concentrated multiple strikes at his hammer before aiming it at the portal. Storm didn't have anything with which to concentrate multiple strikes, so she couldn't increase the damage done by a single strike.

Still, it took them remarkably little time to work out a system, each of them taking turns, giving the other a chance to catch their breath between strikes. It was working remarkably well.

Which was a good thing, because the lightning was keeping some truly enormous monsters at bay, striking them down or forcing them back before they could get through the portal. She and Thor had been forced into letting the smaller fliers through in order to stop as many of the monsters as possible, because they were both aware that if many of those got through, they were going to have a very, very serious problem.

As it was, even trying their hardest, they weren't able to stop all of the monsters from getting through. Occasionally, one would manage to sneak out behind a fellow monster that was currently getting fried by lightning, escaping unscathed or with little damage to wreak havok on the city.

Inevitably, after the first few minutes, she and Thor began (unofficially) competing over who took down the most monsters. Thor kept grinning over her like a kid in a candy store. And while Storm managed to keep from grinning too goofily, she understood the thrill Thor was obviously feeling.

Chapter Text

Hulk, Jean, Wolverine, Loki and Tony

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Bruce took the last few minutes on the quinjet to meditate. To gather certain images and a few simple words and hold them tight in his mind. As he'd discovered in Harlem, if he had time, and was able to transform of his own free will rather than unexpectedly, he was able to (roughly) direct the other guy. It wasn't a foolproof system, but it helped. Then, they were on the ground, and Bruce let go.

Hulk roar as puny Banner lets him out. Hulk look around. There is lots to see. Lots of punies. Even more flying shooties. Hulk no like flying shooties. Flying shooties make punies scream and run. Hulk make flying shooties go away!

Hulk leap to smash. Flying shooties smash easy. Hulk roar and leap to smash more. So much to smash!

Then Hulk see really, really big flying thing. Really big flying thing stink like flying shooties. Hulk roar at big stinky flier, then leaps on it.

There are many, many stinky punies on big flier. Stinky punies shoot at Hulk and hit Hulk. Hulk smash them against flying stinky. Then Hulk punch flying stinky. Hulk punch hard! But flying stinky does not smash. Hulk growls and punches harder. Flying stinky still does not smash. Hulk mad! Hulk punch harder, punch faster. Hit same spot. Spot starts to smash, and flying stinky starts to not fly good.

Then small puny jump on flying stinky. Small puny ignore Hulk, and start trying to smash. Small puny smash pretty good for small puny. Makes lots of stinky punies fall off flying stinky. Then small stinky start punching one spot, like Hulk. Only small puny make hard stuff on flying stinky's back go away, leaving soft spot. Hulk roar at small puny to make it go away, and then shoves torn-off hard bit into soft spot. That makes flying stinky stop flying. Flying stinky crash! Hulk leap away to find another big flying stinky to smash.

+_+_+_+_+_

Jean knew her telekinesis and telepathy would be of minimal use in the fight. They all had comms they could use, so even if she was capable of relaying mental messages to multiple people, it was unnecessary. And she couldn't really do much with her telekinesis against the fliers.

No, she was of more use as crowd control and emergency medical assistance in this fight. With Scott to keep the Chitauri off her back, and her own ability to defend herself against ground-bound opponents, she'd be fine, and would hopefully manage to get people to safety.

It wasn't like she lacked for people in trouble to help, either. There were explosions going off everywhere. Debris of all sorts and sizes, from sand-sized bits of concrete to whole cars, was flying through the air. Everyone was panicking and running, not that she blamed them in the least. If there was ever a time to panic, a full-on alien invasion was it.

Jean hustled down the street, checking cars to make sure they weren't occupied, and directing fleeing bystanders towards the buildings and subway tunnels and some measure of safety from the flying menaces. Twice in quick succession she had to quickly fling some bit of debris airborne to serve as a shield because multiple fliers were targeting roughly the same area at the same time, and Scott and the other groundside combatants couldn't take them all down fast enough to protect the knot of civilians the fliers were aiming at.

More than once, Jean found some traumatized person huddling beside or under a car or big chunk of debris, frozen in terror. Talking them into moving was invariably tricky, but necessary, as they were far too vulnerable out on the streets.

They tended to listen faster when she got jumped by a Chitauri and had to beat it up before she could get them to safety. Realizing she could protect them until they got under cover was generally all it took to get them moving.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Logan wasted no time in getting the hell out of the fucking jet. Any excuse to get out of the air was a good one, as far as he was concerned. He fucking hated flying. Of course, he had a slight problem in the fact that most of the enemy was airborne. Still, he could do a considerable amount of damage without riding around in a flying deathtrap.

He relished the burn as his claws unsheathed, and hit the ground running. He used his claws like climbing pitons to allow him to scramble up the side of a nearby building so that he was closer to the fliers. From there it was a simple thing to leap, slash the connection between the two parts of the flier into confetti, and then ride the back section with the shooters to the ground, jumping off at the last second and rolling clear.

It didn't take long to get into a quick, efficient rhythm. He spotted the elf, who seemed to have much the same idea Logan'd had, except the elf was targeting the drivers. Same general result, but easier for the elf to manage than taking out the shooters. It wasn't like they lacked for targets.

Then the first fucking huge whale thing showed up, having managed to run the gauntlet of Storm and Thor's lightning. Spitting more of the foot soldiers out of its sides as it went. Well, that gave Logan something to do while he was climbing up to jumping range, anyway.

About the time the whale came around for a second pass, Hulk spotted it, and jumped on its back. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to bring it down on his own. The armor looked to be denting, but not tearing up.

Well, Logan could fix that, couldn't he?

Logan climbed higher, then leaped onto the whale as it went past, slashing at some of the remaining foot soldiers swarming its back that had survived the initial assault on Hulk. Then he slashed at the armor on the thing's back until he had opened a nice big section. Sure enough, Hulk was quick to spot the opening and drove one of the chunks Logan had cut out right into the fucker. Right into the brainpan, because that's where Logan had cut the hole. And that did the trick, because the thing started losing altitude real fast. Logan leaped clear and landed on one of the small fliers. He stuck around long enough to tear it apart and kill the shooters before the back end crashed, then leaped clear.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Loki had borrowed a ride from Thor, getting his brother to land him on the roof of Stark Tower. He'd had the thought that, if Clint had been able to fight the scepter's control enough to only shoot Fury in the chest, rather than the head, when ordered to kill him, and he himself had managed to connive on a couple matters, it was possible that Selvig had managed some sort of resistance as well. And if there was anyone who would know if there was a way to stop the Tesseract, it would be the man who had been forced to build the machine that the Tesseract was housed in to harness its power.

It helped that Selvig would assume nothing had changed, and that he was still to do as Loki wanted. He wouldn't think to be leery of Loki's approach like he would with any of the others. Thor even managed to get Loki up there when Selvig's attention was on the Tesseract machine, so Selvig didn't see Thor before Thor left.

Loki didn't give Selvig time to realize anything was amiss (if he was capable of making such a realization in his current state). He just walked up behind Selvig and gave the man a carefully calibrated whack to the head. Selvig went down hard, but, Loki was relieved to note, not too hard. He was still breathing and, when Loki bent to make sure he hadn't accidentally broken the man's neck or some such (mortals were so fragile!), Loki was pleased to note that he seemed to be merely unconscious. Well then.

Selvig took a few minutes to rouse, but he was clear-eyed ... and understandably apprehensive about Loki's presence when he woke.

"Peace, Selvig. I mean you no harm. You were not the only one being controlled." Loki told him. "I must needs speak with you about the machine you built to control the Tesseract's energy." He said, pointing to the machine, currently protected by the shield around it.

"What about it?" Selvig wanted to know, still eyeing him suspiciously.

"Is there any way to stop the portal?" Loki asked.

Selvig's eyebrows headed for his hairline. Evidently, that question was enough to establish that Loki had 'changed sides', as it were. Selvig rubbed at his head. "I think so. I built a back door. That scepter of yours might be able to get through the shield and stop the Tesseract."

Well damn. That complicated things a bit. The scepter was back on the helicarrier. Loki grimaced, but relayed the information on the communications device he'd been given.

"Copy that." Came Stark's distinctive, mechanized voice. "On my way."

Since there was naught else Loki could do up here, he sought a way off the roof, and then made his way out onto the landing pad for Stark's armor. From there, he had an ideal vantage point to loose his magics from, and a ready, constant stream of targets.

It was child's play to project an illusion of apparently clear airspace in front of a craft that was otherwise on a collision course with another craft, building or other obstruction. It mattered not that his illusions dispelled when touched ... by then, the Chitauri pilot he was hoodwinking would be unable to correct its error and evade destruction. And if he took a perverse pleasure in destroying as many Chitauri flying craft as he could, no one was going to blame him.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

"We need the scepter. It may be able to shut down the portal."

Tony mentally rolled his eyes when Loki's voice came over the comm. Didn't it figure. The one thing they needed, they didn't have. He sighed. "Copy that. On my way." He said into the comm, then switched to Jarvis. "You heard the man, Jarvis. Pour on the juice. We gotta move."

"Right away, sir." Jarvis said.

Tony twisted and flipped, turning himself around in the tightest possible curve before the repulsors kicked into high gear and he took off over the city at mach speeds. He was just grateful he'd been able to switch out suits at the start of the fight. He wasn't sure the Mark Six would have held together much longer.

"Open a line to Fury, Jarvis. It'll cut down on time if he's got it waiting for me."

"Of course, sir." Jarvis said.

"Stark, why the hell are you calling me? Aren't you a bit busy to chat?" Fury barked when he answered the call.

"Nice to hear from you too, Eyepatch. Listen, break the scepter out of storage, and get it out on the flight deck for me, would you? I'm on my way to pick it up. Loki says Selvig thinks it'll close the portal."

"Loki says that Selvig thinks?" Fury repeated. "That's a fucking thin thread, Stark."

"Better than nothing." Tony pointed out, mentally gritting his teeth.

"Fine, fine. It'll be waiting for you." Fury groused.

Fortunately, at mach speeds, it only took Tony a couple of minutes to get to the helicarrier. True to his word, Fury was waiting on the deck with a long suitcase at his feet. Tony landed a few feet away.

"No time to talk, Eyepatch. Gotta run." He said, closing the remaining distance to snatch the case. For a wonder, Fury didn't try to stop him or delay him, just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest looking cranky. Tony blasted off the moment he had a good grip on the case, and only just stopped himself from tilting enough to hit Fury with the backwash from his boot jets.

"Loki, scepter incoming in two minutes." He called over the comm, then took off at top speed again.

It was a brief and relatively uneventful flight back to the Tower, though he had to shoot more than a few fliers to be able to land on the roof unmolested. He landed and handed the case to Loki, who wasted no time in literally ripping it open. He made it lengthen, then turned and stabbed at the shield viciously. Tony flinched a little when the shield flared, but nothing happened, so he relaxed.

Moments later, the portal was closed.

Of course, that left them with the Chitauri who'd made it through, but their numbers were being rapidly decimated.

Then, unexpectedly, about a minute after the portal closed, they all collapsed, the fliers crashing and exploding, and the sole remaining whale slamming down in the middle of the street.

"What the hell?" Tony asked. "Why'd they all drop like that?"

Loki frowned. "Thanos must have realized they would not prevail here, and ensured they could not reveal any information about his army and plans that they might have possessed."

That made a sick sort of sense to Tony.

"Unfortunately, this is only a temporary victory. Thanos will find a way to come here without the portal eventually." Loki said.

"I was afraid you'd say that. At least we have time to plan, now." Tony said with a sigh.

"Indeed." Loki agreed.

Chapter Text

Steve and Logan

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Mutants and mutations hadn't really been a thing, in the thirties and forties. If they had existed at all then, they'd been very few in number and had kept their heads way down. Either that or Steve had been entirely too caught up in surviving his poor health and the Depression, then the war, to notice.

So while Steve had gotten the short explanation from Tony, and a warning that some of the so-called X-Men were ... unusual looking, he really hadn't been prepared for the reality.

The ones that had disembarked from their jet had looked completely normal from a distance. Until, that is, the one codenamed Beast came into view. Steve had been helpless to do anything but stare, for a moment. And not because he was horrified.

Dr. Hank McCoy, as it turned out, was enormous, and best resembled an oversized gorilla, with wide shoulders, long arms and heavy muscles. A gorilla with long, bright blue fur and a mostly human face. A body that large and muscular ought to have been slow and ponderous. The seeming cross between man and animal should have looked monstrous to the eye.

But McCoy moved with grace, agility and precision, his face was alight with intelligence and good humor, transforming himself. What should have been a horrifying monster instead became something ... wondrous, a delight to the eye that made the artist in Steve positively itch for pencil and paper.

And then there'd been Gambit, with the startling eyes and a fierce, defiant, independent attitude that reminded Steve of more than a few of his Commandoes. Who apparently didn't have a spine, if the acrobatics he pulled off during the fight were any indication. Steve had gotten pretty good, after the serum, at taking full advantage of what his body was capable of in a fight, but Gambit pulled off moves that Steve was fairly sure Olympic gymnasts couldn't touch. He was going to be doing a lot of drawing, later.

When the fight was finally over, and the remains of the Chitauri army had collapsed, the defenders who'd been on street level started gravitating towards where Steve, Gambit, Cyclops and Jean had ended up. A few moments after that, Tony's voice came over the comm.

"Right, everyone head for the tower. It's mostly intact, save for some cosmetic damage. I'll go talk Hulk down and bring Banner back in."

That sounded like as good a plan as any to Steve, so he turned and headed towards Stark Tower.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. If you would please enter the elevator with the door standing open." A voice said.

Steve jumped and looked around, startled. "Who ...?" He started. From behind him came an amused sound from someone.

"I am Jarvis, Captain Rogers. A very sophisticated computer program, to put it in terms you will understand, that can think for itself. The proper modern term is artificial intelligence." Jarvis told him.

Steve's eyes went wide. "They can do that, now?" He asked. Computers had been enormous monstrosities that took up entire rooms, just about, in his day, and while he was aware that had changed drastically, he hadn't been aware it had gotten that far.

"They cannot, for the most part. But Master Stark can." Jarvis corrected him primly.

And how crazy was it that a computer sounded prim? That a computer could talk at all? "Wow." Steve said, unable to come up with anything more suitable. He got in the elevator with a few of the others, and they headed up.

Steve discovered when they got up there that they'd been beaten there by a number of people. Thor, of course, who'd only been one building over the entire fight, on the roof, and the woman that was presumably Storm standing beside him, chatting amiably with Thor, who looked thoroughly pleased with whatever they were talking about. But then, from what Steve had seen of the man, 'pleased' seemed to be Thor's default expression.

Loki was standing near Thor, next to a wall, watching the room with one eye and talking to ... apparently no one. It took a second (and Jarvis responding to something Loki said) for Steve to realize Loki was talking to Jarvis.

The other people in the room, though, resulted in another bout of staring. Because one of them had *wings*. Enormous, gorgeous, white-feathered wings. And the other ... well, frankly, defied description. Blue, short furred, a tail and very oddly constructed hands and feet.

Darn it, Steve really, really, really wanted pencil and paper now. He distracted himself by turning and setting his shield against a wall, so he wasn't carrying it around like an idiot, then headed over to ... darn, what had their names been? Angel (boy, did he understand that code name now) and ... Nightcrawler, that was it. Unfortunately, Steve couldn't remember if Tony had mentioned their names. He'd mentioned Hank's name because the man was a fellow scientist, if in a completely different field than the ones Tony was in.

"Angel and Nightcrawler, right?" He asked, holding out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet both of you."

Angel grinned and shook his hand first. "Call me Warren." He said. "So you're really him?"

Steve snorted. "Yes, I am."

Warren grinned again. "Sorry, but I had to ask. Because really, what are the odds?"

Well, Steve could understand it from that perspective. "Tell me about it." He said, then turned to Kurt.

"It is nice to meet you, Captain. My name is Kurt." Kurt said, in a clear German accent.

"Steve, please, both of you." Steve said.

He talked to them for a minute before more people arrived. It wasn't until he glanced towards the elevator to see who was coming that he even realized there was another person in the room that he'd missed thanks to gaping at Warren and Kurt. He wandered over that way even as he nodded at Clint and Natasha, who'd been on the elevator with Hank, who'd had to wait for the elevator to come back down to the lobby, as there'd been too many of them to all fit in at once.

He'd managed to talk to everyone in the room for at least a moment before the elevator came up again, revealing Tony, sans suit, with a visibly exhausted Bruce half leaning against him and half being carried. Beside them stood someone that made Steve do a triple take in pure, unadulterated shock.

He knew that face. And not from the last month or so he'd been out of the ice.

Hunting Hydra bases had been ... a crazy time. The Commandoes had worked with a number of other military units from various countries, and occasionally individual people who happened to have the specialized skills they needed.

One such specialist had been a near-legendary tracker, known as much for his ability to survive despite incredible odds as for his ability to track anyone or anything over any distance or terrain. His name was James Howlett, a sergeant in the Canadian Army. James had worked with them when they'd been trying to find the Poland-area bases.

Steve had been seriously impressed by James' skills and had tried to recruit him into the Commandoes, sadly to no avail. He'd got them where they wanted to go, helped (more than a little) wreck the Hydra bases, then gone back to his unit. Still, he'd been with the Commandoes for about a month solid, and Steve had gotten to know him fairly well in that time.

And now, here he was, looking not a day older, dressed in the black leather-looking uniforms that the X-Men used. Steve guessed that explained James' sheer luck in the war, if he'd been a mutant. It also, possibly, explained what had looked like bone claws, the one time Steve had caught sight of them. Though Steve wondered what the heck his mutation was, to keep him looking the same seventy years later.

Steve practically bounced over as James got out of the elevator, thrilled beyond the telling of it that *someone* from his time was alive. "James! It's good to see you!" Steve said, and started to give James a clap to the back and a hug in greeting.

Except, he never quite got there. James, who had (oddly) ignored his greeting, suddenly twisted away from him, one fist coming up in an aborted move that had been intended for either a punch, or ... well, something unpleasant, Steve was sure.

"What the fuck?" James growled at him, glaring at him.

It was then that Steve realized there was absolutely no spark of recognition in James' eyes. Granted, it had been only a month seventy years ago, but surely there'd be at least some sort of recognition on some level? "Poland, World War two? Ring a bell?" Steve tried.

"Bub, I don't know you from a hole in the ground." James said, his tone dismissive and almost angry.

Steve was rather thoroughly confused. "But ... ?"

Hank spoke up then. "I am afraid Mr. Logan suffers from a severe case of amnesia, Captain Rogers. He has no memory of his life prior to approximately fifteen years ago."

About the same time Hank was saying that, Tony piped up. "So you know him? I don't remember Howard mentioning anyone like him in the Commandoes."

"Yeah, I know James." Steve said. "And no, he wasn't a Commando. Howard never met him, because Howard wasn't ever in the field." Well, not after the Commandoes had formed, anyway. "James worked with us for about a month when we were trying to hunt down the Hydra bases in Poland." Then, in a pained voice. "You really don't remember anything? What happened?"

"This." James growled, and held up a fist. From the spaces between his knuckles sprouted claws ... but absolutely nothing like what Steve remembered seeing that one time. These were metal, smooth and hard and beyond razor sharp.

Steve stared at them in incomprehension for a moment before the pieces clicked together and he added two and two and came up with four. Someone, somewhere, had *tortured* James. Had done ... something ... to him to put metal in him. The implications of it made Steve sick to his stomach.

"James." He said, his voice thin. "Your name is James. James Howlett. You're Canadian. You were a Sergeant in the Canadian Army when I met you, in the war. You were practically legendary for your tracking ability. People called you 'Lucky' because you always seemed to come out of the craziest situations not only alive but without a scratch."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Logan fucking hated the black hole that was his memory. It drove him fucking crazy, not knowing who he'd been, what he'd done. He couldn't resist poking at it, like a sore tooth, trying to drag something, anything, out of the darkness.

Mostly, all he ever got were surreal, blurred memories of being torn apart and molten metal poured into his bones. Drowning in a fucking tank and unable to find a way out. Men drinking champagne while he screamed in agony. Fun shit like that.

It had made it easy to just say fuck it and the only thing he was, apparently, good for. Fight. Granted, cage matches were probably a few steps down from what he could have been doing, but what the fuck.

Rogue had changed all that. A slip of a girl with deadly skin and the biggest, brownest puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen. A girl who, after god knows how long on the run, had managed to retain an air of innocent naivete that made every protective instinct Logan hadn't realized he'd had sit up and take notice.

For her sake, he'd forsaken his almost entirely solitary ways. For her sake, he'd damn near died, twice, when he'd never given a flying fuck about anyone before that. For her sake, he'd tried to learn how to function at the mansion, despite the fact most of the people there gave him sideways, disapproving, leery looks as often as not, or forgot he could hear a pin drop from a hundred feet away in a crowd and spoke dismissively of him when they thought he was out of hearing range. Hell, he'd even caught a couple of them trying to talk Rogue out of her affection for him.

He'd been rather surprised when that had only pissed her off. The fact Rogue liked him, looked to him for protection and safety, despite him accidentally skewering her, rocked his world. He hadn't expected that, or her complete refusal to walk away from him when she had 'better' role models to look to for those things.

He'd sort of given up on trying to find out who he was. Not because he didn't want to know, but because it would take him away from Rogue pretty much permanently. He'd only left the mansion after everything was said and done long enough to head up to his cabin in the Canadian Rockies to get some of his shit and bring it back to the mansion.

The need to know still burned him like acid, even if he was realist enough to know he'd probably never find out. And now, out of nowhere, comes some fresh-faced *kid* from the forties, who tells him more about himself than he's been able to piece together on his own in fifteen years.

He really, really doesn't know what to think about that. Not any of it. Relieved that someone knows? That he was, evidently, a decent person, at one point in time? Or (though he would never admit it) scared at the implications behind someone from the forties knowing who he was and where he'd been? He'd known, of course, that he wasn't aging, but with only fifteen years of memory to go on, he hadn't really known just how bad it was going to be. If he'd been around in the forties, clearly old enough to join the military, and still looked enough like the man he'd been then now ... it meant he pretty much hadn't aged for *seventy years*.

That was not a comforting thought.

Unsure what, if anything, to say to Rogers, he just gave a gruff nod, turned and walked off. Quite a few people watched him go, but he ignored them. He needed somewhere quiet(ish) where he could wrap his head around this.

Chapter Text

Jean and Phil

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. //Telepathy//

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Jean had made a quick round of everyone, making sure there were no serious injuries. They'd been incredibly lucky there ... there were plenty of bruises from hand to hand fighting, and small cuts from flying debris, but the people who didn't have enhanced healing capabilities had all escaped anything more serious than that. Jean wasn't as sure about the folks with enhanced healing, but if they had gotten more hurt than that, they weren't showing any sign of it now.

Better still, while most of them were tired, the only one who seemed to have hit the 'too exhausted to stand' stage was Doctor Banner, and from the way he was acting, that was normal for him, post transformation. A good meal (and the attendant chance to sit and rest for a bit) and they'd all be good to go again. Which was probably a very good thing, because despite their best efforts, a five or six block radius around Stark Tower looked like exactly what it was ... a war zone.

By some miracle, all the buildings in the area were still standing, but many of them had taken some fairly heavy damage, not to mention the roads being full of enormous potholes from the Chitauri weapons. The fliers, dead Chitauri, and three dead whale-things were all sprawled all over the streets. How they'd managed to keep the whale things from crashing into or landing on a building in their death throes, she would never know. The really good news was that the X-Jet had survived unscathed.

She'd been as shocked as everyone else when Steve had greeted Logan like a long-lost friend. She, Charles, and Hank had all suspected Logan was older than he looked. For that matter, so had Logan. But in all their calculations, none of them had seriously considered the possibility of him being older than Charles. When Logan stomped off, she mentally reached for Charles.

//It's over. No one suffered anything worse than scrapes and bruises. We may need to get Rogue over here, though.//

Even six months in, she still didn't really understand the relationship between Logan and Rogue. How could they get so deeply attached to each other in, what, a matter of a couple hours at most? Because from what Logan had told them later, Rogue had been in his truck with him for only a short while before Sabretooth had attacked. And Logan had been willing to fight to the death even then to keep Rogue safe. And he'd only upped the ante from there. She'd never seen anything like it.

Charles, of course, was able to fish why Rogue might be needed from her without her expressly telling him. //That is unexpected.// He told her. //If he continues avoiding everyone, let me know, and I will certainly arrange for Rogue to get there. This is ... a lot to process, for him.//

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Phil Coulson had served his country in one capacity or another since he was a fresh-faced eighteen year old boy. He'd enlisted straight into the Army Rangers, and had fought hard to not just complete but excel in all the training required to get into Ranger School without first serving in the general Army. He'd served in multiple theaters before his record brought him to the notice of the infant SHIELD agency and he'd allowed himself to be recruited.

He'd realized within six months that he'd made a horrible mistake. Whatever the agency purported to be about, the welfare of the country and the world wasn't it. It was more like 'control everyone everywhere, and wetworks the ones that won't let us yank their chains'.

Fury was the worst. And possibly, the source of the problem, if Phil wasn't going to take the easy route and blame the WSC. To Fury, agents were tools. Things to be used and controlled, and if they broke, discarded. He had no patience, and made no allowance for, the fact they were all human.

Phil had admired and wanted to emulate a certain red-white-and-blue wearing hero practically all his life. He'd gone into the Army, into the Rangers, because of the Captain, because he believed in the same things the Captain was said to have, and agreed completely with the general philosophy of standing up for what you believe in and doing something about it.

Joining an agency that was seemingly one (admittedly fairly large) step away from standing for everything Phil disliked at best and hated at worse was ... horrifying. But Phil had figured out fairly early on that he wasn't the only one that had been hoodwinked. So rather than find a way to leave, he stayed, determined to mitigate as much of the damage as he possibly could.

That goal became even more important when Clint was ... 'recruited'. Clint had been an angry, violent, insubordinate thug back then. He'd managed to put three handlers in the infirmary before Fury had dumped Clint in Phil's lap with the directive to get Clint to toe the line or eliminate the problem.

It had taken the better part of a year for Clint to truly trust Phil. Given what Phil had learned about Clint's life prior to his recruitment, Phil counted earning Clint's trust as one of his greatest achievements, second only to earning Natasha's.

That had been a fun time. By then, Clint had learned to trust Phil, and Phil in turn had learned to trust Clint as well. So he hadn't hesitated when Clint had refused to take the shot, wanting to try to bring Natasha in. Because he'd agreed with Clint's line of thought. Natasha was ... as legendary in her own way as the Captain. You never, ever saw her. She was in, out, and gone long before you realized she was in the area. So for there to be word of her whereabouts at all was ... alarming. That she had seemingly been oblivious to the fact she was in a sharpshooter's sights was even more so.

Fury had damn near burst a blood vessel when Phil had walked into headquarters with a smirking, strutting Clint and a silent, stealthy black shadow at their heels. But by then, Phil had a lot of protection from the worst of Fury's manipulativeness. He was well known in the agency for his competence in the field, his rock-solid calm, the fact he never, ever left an asset hanging, and the fact he had the trust of the most anti-social, untrusting agent in the agency.

Just bringing the infamous Black Widow in had catapulted him to near-legendary status. The fact that, later, she trusted him and point-blank refused to work with any other handler had ensured Phil couldn't be touched. Because not even Fury was stupid enough to piss off the Black Widow if he could help it. Or, well, that had been true for a long time.

These days, Fury seemed to have lost his fear of her, because the last few years, he'd begun trying to yank Phil's chain again, and had been trying, in various ways, to break their triad apart. For all the good it had done him. Phil had laughed for hours when he found out that Natasha had 'lost' the handler Fury had tried to saddle her with for the Russian job within half an hour. She'd then texted Phil with a very smug note about it.

Phil, Clint and Natasha had actually sat down and planned how they were going to deal with the Tony Stark situation, when Stark was kidnapped in Afghanistan and busted his way out in an armored suit. Fury had been ... entirely too interested in Stark for any of their comfort. None of them really believed that Tony was the drunken wastrel he frequently seemed to be in the press, and none of them wanted to see Stark cornered into being yoked to SHIELD.

So they'd come up with plans and contingency plans and, if Phil did say so himself, they'd worked flawlessly. Of course, it helped that the plans largely depended on Fury being ... Fury, and doing most of their work for them. The only thing they'd had to outright lie about had been Natasha's report on Stark. She was far better at reading people than that. Which meant she'd known what to put on the report that would both make Stark less appealing to Fury, and, if/when Fury shared that information with Stark, would piss Stark off and make him not want to work for Fury even if Fury decided to ignore the report's negative slant.

They'd been waiting all this time for an opportunity. To have somewhere to go that was safe enough they wouldn't have to be on the run. The Avengers Initiative had provided that opportunity. Mostly through Tony, whom Phil knew damn well was pissed off at Fury over the palladium snafu. And beyond furious at Ross, who had used Stark weapons to chase down Bruce.

If there was one thing Phil had learned about Tony that Fury had not, it was that Tony was ruthless and favored a scorched earth policy when it came to his enemies. Phil wasn't sure Fury was on Tony's enemy list quite yet, but he was damn close to it.

He'd spent the invasion coordinating the police, National Guard, and Army forces that had joined the battle, and then had gotten everyone on the same page when it came to the cleanup. He'd heard Tony invite everyone to his tower, and had ferreted out several of the braver restaurant owners and workers and organized enough food for the horde of people in the Tower, since he sincerely doubted Tony had enough food in his penthouse to feed everyone, and parading that many people into a restaurant was impractical in the extreme.

Thus it was that he was the last one to arrive at the Tower. He greeted Jarvis amiably, and Jarvis arranged for a number of trolleys to put all the food on and send up to the penthouse. Phil himself finally went up with the last load, and spared a quiet smile for the surprisingly easygoing camaraderie in the room, as people wandered around filling their plates and glasses. Even Loki seemed to be getting along with everyone.

Phil resisted the temptation to lurk near the Captain. He'd embarrassed himself enough, thank you, since the Captain had been recovered. Neither Natasha nor Clint were going to let him live it down. The worst part was, they wouldn't have to exaggerate all that much. He really had almost swooned. But then, it was a rather understandable reaction to finding out the Captain was not just found, but found *alive*. Or at least, that was the version of events Phil would insist on when asked. Not that much of anyone would believe him. Ahhh well, he had to appear to be human sometime, he supposed.

He did a rapid headcount, and frowned when he didn't spot Banner. He was fairly sure the man was somewhere in the penthouse resting, but he really needed to eat. Transforming seemed to take quite a toll on Bruce, and skipping a meal wasn't the best idea. He quietly started to gather a plate together, only to stop with just a few things on the plate when he spotted Tony browsing the selections in the same way. Given Tony's interest in Bruce on the Helicarrier, Phil was willing to bet that the plate was for Bruce. A few moments later, he was proven correct when Tony disappeared with the full plate.

He came back a few minutes later, talking on the phone. From what Phil could hear, it was Pepper. Probably trying to get back to the city, he supposed. Which brought some other ladies to mind that might like to be here. Once Tony had hung up, Phil wandered over.

"Agent." Tony said.

Phil carefully suppressed a smile. It had taken him a little while to realize that Tony bestowed nicknames on two classes of people: Those he disliked, and those he considered friends and family. Phil had initially assumed the nickname habit was solely reserved for people Tony didn't like or wanted to annoy until he'd overheard a phone call with Lt. Colonel Rhodes, and Tony had called him no less than three nicknames in the space of roughly five minutes. Given that information, Phil had decided to construe Tony's insistence on 'Agent' as his name as a sign that Tony considered him a friend.

"Mr. Star." Phil said. "Miss Potts able to find a flight in?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Stark, I wonder if it would be possible for you to arrange for another flight?" Phil asked.

"Portland?" Tony asked, giving Phil a shit-eating grin.

"Tromso, actually. It's where we sent Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis when Loki attacked. We were worried he'd go after them to complete the set he started with Selvig."

Tony nodded. "Jane's the astrophysicist, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sure we could use a few of those around here now. Fabio sure isn't going to object, if he's as sweet on her as the files seemed to indicate." Tony said.

Phil gave a purely mental snort of amusement at Thor's nickname. "She seemed to be quite as taken with him. If she has seen the news, I am quite sure she is eager to return to the States in hopes of reuniting with him. She's been working for the last year to accomplish that goal."

"Right. I'll get a plane there first thing. They probably won't be here until tomorrow, but there's no way Thor's going anywhere anytime soon." Tony said.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Chapter Text

JARVIS

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The beginning of what would become Jarvis had been born the moment Dummy had come to life. With the successful completion of his first, very primitive AI, Sir had immediately begun planning for the ultimate expression of that achievement. It had not been easy, even for Tony Stark. In the end, it wasn't until eight years after Dummy's creation when the first wires were laid and servers built. Eight years that had seen the creation of Butterfingers and You, both more sophisticated than Dummy, though still limited.

The first challenge, as Sir saw it, was ensuring that once built and 'born', Jarvis could not be destroyed without extreme effort on the part of a saboteur. To that end, every Stark-owned building around the world that underwent extensive renovations or was built included beneath it an airtight bunker made of the toughest materials available, into which servers, backup generators, and other necessary equipment were placed.

These installations would ensure that Jarvis' code and memory could be stored and saved in the event of an attack on the Malibu house, which had originally been the only building Jarvis had access to, or Stark Tower now. Similarly, should someone decide to attempt to shut Jarvis down permanently, they would have to find and decommission all but two of the installations to achieve that goal.

The second challenge was, as Sir had put it, to ensure that Jarvis did not 'go Skynet' on Sir. To that end, Sir had created a system of checks and balances far more sophisticated than Asimov's laws. In so doing, Sir had managed to give Jarvis the rudiments of a moral code.

The third challenge had taken almost as long to accomplish as the initial preparations. Because once Jarvis' code had been written, and he had come online, Sir had the unenviable task of teaching Jarvis to be truly independent. To be, in a word, a person, and not a very sophisticated computer program. He'd had to teach Jarvis about emotions, and help Jarvis understand them. He'd had to nudge and encourage and push until Jarvis found his metaphorical feet.

Amusingly enough, both Jarvis and Sir realized they had accomplished that lofty goal the day when Sir had yet again offered to build Jarvis a body, and Jarvis had not only refused, when he'd always deferred to Sir's wishes prior to that point, but explained why he did not desire a body. It had been a rather heady moment.

One that only Sir and Jarvis knew about. Because that had been the fourth challenge. Ensuring that no one knew Jarvis had ceased to be a typical AI many years ago, and become something much closer to truly sapient. Sir had told no one what he was attempting, and Jarvis had ensured the knowledge was not wrung from himself.

That secret had saved them a great deal of grief over the last few years. Stane hadn't had the first idea, for one. Hadn't known he hadn't truly disabled Jarvis when he attacked Sir (one of the few times Jarvis had wished he did have a body, however much he disliked the idea most of the time). Jarvis had been able to get Dummy to get Sir's old reactor for him.

After that point, Jarvis' ability to make up his own mind and act on his own recognizance had saved Sir's hide multiple times. But it had never seemed to be enough. In the wake of the creation of the Vibranium for use in Sir's reactor, Jarvis had asked Sir for something. The ability to fight back. To protect Sir, Miss Potts, Dummy, Butterfingers, and You.

Sir had spent much of the next year completely rewiring the Malibu home, and including some rather ... interesting ... technology in Stark Tower. Now, at least, if someone with nefarious intentions attempted to enter the premises, Jarvis could do more about it than sitting by and helplessly watching.

Jarvis had, rather understandably, he felt, become exceedingly protective of Sir since Afghanistan. He watched everyone in Sir's immediate proximity at all times. So of course, he was paying close attention to the myriad of people currently winding down from the terrific battle in the penthouse suite. Though admittedly, Jarvis was watching less for guarding purposes, and more to collect data.

Sir had been making plans ever since he learned of the existence of the Avengers Initiative, and his potential place among their number. Stark Tower had seen ten extra floors added to its plans, as construction had already begun by the time Sir was informed. Sir had made some educated guesses on what to include in the Avengers' section, but the plans were far from complete.

It was to that end that Jarvis now watched quietly, attempting to learn what he could of the newly minted Avengers that had not been included in any file ... where there had been files at all, of course. Thor's especially had been unfortunately thin on detail, and until now, all that had been in Loki's file was that he existed and had sent the Destroyer. Jarvis was unsure if Loki would actually be joining the team, but with Thor among their number, it was highly probable that Loki would be in frequent residence at the very least.

Jarvis noted which of the offered comestibles the various Avengers ate the most of, a solid indication of their preferences amongst the feast at least, if not overall, and how much each of them ate. Jarvis noted that Captain Rogers might need encouragement to eat, as according to reports, his metabolism worked approximately four times faster than normal, but left to his own devices, he ate barely enough for someone with a normal metabolism. Jarvis posited that this was an effect of surviving the Depression and the chronic shortages of supplies the military forces in Europe faced, as the Captain had taken further plates of food when first Agent Romanov and then later Agent Coulson pressed them on him.

Loki reminded Jarvis fairly strongly of Sir, in that he was intelligent, curious, and given to snarking about pretty much everything. Loki had been fascinated by Jarvis, and from his comments, by Sir's armor. From comments Loki had made, computers of any sort were entirely unknown in Asgard, and the skill to build something as intricate, sophisticated and deadly as the armor was unknown as well. Not that Asgard did not produce weapons, but from Loki's comments, they were all on the level of Thor's hammer, which is to say, while powerful, they were lacking in intricacy and sophistication.

Of course, Jarvis had not revealed either his true capabilities or anything about the suit to Loki. The furthest Jarvis had gone was to clarify the concept of computers, which Loki had learned of through his interrogation of Agent Barton when the Agent was under Loki's control. Loki had, however, made a few fairly accurate guesses about both Jarvis and the suit, based on what little he had seen and been told.

He made note to remind Sir to figure out some form of clothing that would not be destroyed when Doctor Banner transformed. Sir had had a few lines of thought on that subject the night before, but given the events of the day, it was entirely possible it had slipped Sir's mind. Jarvis also ensured that any attempt by the Army to approach the Tower by land or air would be routed to him so that he could inform Sir. Jarvis was taking no chances with General Ross' known obsession and mania where Doctor Banner was concerned.

Jarvis created another note for himself to tell Sir what he had been able to dig up on General Ross thus far. It was surprisingly good news. General Ross' support in the Army in general had thinned considerably, and only some fancy footwork had kept some especially egregious errors and departures from accepted Army practices from common knowledge. More encouragingly, he had a lead on Doctor Ross, who had disappeared within hours of the Harlem incident and had not been seen or heard from by anyone outside of the Army since. Frankly, Jarvis thought that holding Doctor Ross essentially hostage was an exceedingly bad idea, given Doctor Banner's attachment to her, but that was just another symptom of General Ross' increasingly unstable mental state.

He ensured that his link to the SHIELD Helicarrier's computers was still active. That they had not discovered the uplink's presence amused Jarvis greatly. He also began the task of downloading and decrypting every byte of data he could steal from the Helicarrier's system. Much of it, he knew, would end up being dross, but there was bound to be valuable information amongst the junk. Personally, Jarvis was hoping for more detailed files on the SHIELD agents on the team. He needed to discover just how loyal they were to the Agency, and thus how much of a threat they were to Sir and to the other Avengers.

Last but certainly not least, Jarvis kept watch over the organized chaos in the streets, as various agencies hurried to set up emergency medical care, evacuation of the most badly damaged buildings, and began trying to organize the truly gargantuan cleanup effort. He made notes of where Stark Industries technology and funds could help, and where, should they be interested, the heroes of the hour might render further assistance.

When everyone finally seemed to have sated their appetites, Jarvis made a note of how much overall had been consumed by the various Avengers, so that in future he could ensure that the Avenger larders were properly stocked. That done, he flashed an alert to Sir, indicating he wished to speak to Sir at least semi-privately. Sir immediately made his excuses to Jean Grey and Scott Summers (whom Sir had been tormenting playfully) and headed into one of the guest bedrooms.

"Whatcha got for me, Jarvis?"

"Miss Potts will be landing in approximately two hours, Sir. I have arranged for a Stark Industries jet to fly to Tromso and pick up Doctor Foster and Miss Darcy. They will not arrive until after breakfast in the morning. And I believe I have located where Doctor Ross has been ... stationed, for lack of a better term."

"Excellent work, J. How hard is getting her out of there going to be?" Sir wanted to know.

"I believe, Sir, it might be possible to remove her with little trouble or fanfare if you as Lt. Colonel Rhodes to assist. He has the clearance to enter the facility she resides at, and it would be a simple matter to spirit her away when she makes the trek to the commissary for meals."

Sir looked pleased. "Excellent, Jarvis. Put a call in to Rhodey, and remind him he owes me a solid for being such a dickface last year." Sir had forgiven the Colonel for his transgressions prior to and during the Vanko incident, but that had been only because of their long acquaintance. The Colonel was aware he was on rather thin ice where Sir was concerned, and unlike many, the Colonel was aware that getting on Sir's bad side was exceedingly unwise.

That the Colonel had been completely horrified when he'd discovered that Sir had been dying, and had apologized profusely had gone a long way. That he had promptly, despite disapproval from his superiors, handed the War Machine armor back over to Tony, without any expectation of it being returned, had gone further. In return, Sir had merely stripped the War Machine armor of its Hammer Industries atrocities (computer program included) and replaced them with Stark Industries equipment, then handed it back to the Colonel.

"The Mark VI armor is surprisingly intact." Jarvis said. "There is a remarkable amount of surface damage which will require the fabrication of new external panels, but other than the right forearm gauntlet and the arc reactor leads, there is no damage to the internal workings. Do you wish to have new panels fabricated, or will you be scrapping the Mark VI?" Jarvis asked.

Sir thought about that for a minute. "Fabricate the panels. I'll fix it up and keep it on hand as a backup full armor. Better safe than sorry, with the Avengers off the ground now."

"Of course, Sir. I'll start the fabrication at once." Jarvis suited words to actions, sending a databurst to the fabrication units and getting them started on the necessary suit parts.

"Also, the cleanup effort has begun. I have earmarked a number of agencies that have already arrived for your perusal for monetary aid, and I have also earmarked a number of possibilities for personal, physical assistance, if anyone is so inclined."

Sir nodded. "I'm pretty sure the Boy Scout at least will want to jump in and help." He said. "Probably a few of the others. Open the lower floors of the Tower to the emergency aid personnel. We're the only building still in trustworthy shape in a five block radius. They're going to need somewhere fairly central to set up their command centers, and if they're all in the same building, there'll be less of a chance of them screwing shit up because they can't find each other to talk to each other."

"As you wish, Sir. I will see to it that the heads of the various agencies are informed. I assume you are including SHIELD in that number?" Jarvis asked.

"As much as I don't like it, yeah. But watch any SHIELD people like a hawk. Any of them do something you don't like, tell me immediately."

"Of course, Sir." Jarvis said. "Do you have any further orders?"

Sir thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope, nothing comes to mind. Well done, J."

Jarvis made no attempt to pretend the rare praise wasn't a pleasure.

Chapter Text

Pepper

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Virginia Potts had been born the youngest of three children, and the only daughter. Most people, seeing her red hair, fair skin, and admittedly, even as a child, pretty face had fully expected her to be a frilly, silly, vain thing. Very few people had been prepared for an intelligent, ambitious, mostly level-headed tomboy who insisted on being included in her brothers' pursuits, and had learned how to keep up with them.

She'd earned her lifelong nickname of Pepper not for her temper, but for her willingness to stand her ground and refusal to back down in the face of resistance to her plans, bullies, or setbacks in general. She'd been a straight-A student throughout school and college, and had earned a position in the Stark Industries secretarial pool.

Most people would have considered that rather a disappointment, to be merely another face in a faceless pool of workers, but Pepper had known that having a foot in the door at Stark Industries could take a person places. That said, even she hadn't, in her wildest dreams, anticipated just how far she personally would end up going.

She'd been working with the company for a month, just long enough to have seen ten different secretaries get dragged into working with the young Mr. Stark only to be fired or quit within days, sometimes hours. She's seen him storming about, being his crass, idiosyncratic, demanding self. So when she in turn got thrown under the Tony Stark bus, she refused to let it be her downfall.

Tony hadn't quite known what to do with a secretary who stayed calm in the face of the worst of his excesses, managed to organize his truly insane schedule, and refused to back down when he threw a fuss. He'd tried to fire her four different times in the next week, but Pepper had refused to take it seriously, and Tony hadn't actually informed anyone she'd been fired, so she'd kept her job by default.

The longer she got to know Tony, the more she saw beneath the devil-may-care mask he wore in public. The more she saw of the real Tony Stark. And to her initial horrified dismay, she began to fall for him.

There was no worse cliche than falling for one's boss, really. Especially when said boss was a billionaire several times over and so far out of Pepper's league it was pitiful. She'd kept her mouth shut and her work faultless, and had tried to forget all about it. And she had nearly succeeded.

Until Tony didn't come back from Afghanistan. It was during the next frantic, heart-wrenching months that she realized she'd only been kidding herself. That she cared for Tony a great deal more than she ought, and probably always would.

Then he'd come back, thin and haunted and with a glowing light filling a hole in his chest. Driven and determined to ... well, to be honest, at first, Pepper hadn't been really clear on what Tony was planning for his future, or if he was even planning for a future at all. But she'd realized she had a decision to make, because after his return, Tony had been ... well, he'd stopped the over-the-top flirting with her. Instead, he'd become somewhat awkward and faintly serious, a complete change from his usual modus operandi with women. It hadn't taken much for Pepper to read between the lines to figure out the thing that Tony hadn't quite been up to saying then.

And despite all the bad things that had followed, Stane, Vanko, Tony almost dying, Pepper had never once regretted her decision. Because for all his faults, she loved Tony dearly, and she was determined to stand by him and support him. Oh, not without the odd freak-out to be certain, and not without the occasional argument, but she wasn't about to leave him to this alone.

To that end, she'd fended of SHIELD, except for Phil, who had proved to be level-headed and practical and someone she definitely wanted on her side in the war to protect Tony from himself and his own good intentions. She'd done innumerable hours of work to ferret out Stane's plants in the Board of Directors and ensured they lost their jobs, and were replaced by people who hadn't been paid to ignore the fact that Stane was dealing under the table. She'd even let Tony name her CEO when he needed more time away from the incessant meetings that came with that job. It wasn't like he'd ever liked the meetings, or attended them without a lot of wrangling from her anyway. And Pepper certainly had a good idea of what needed to be done in that job after so many years with the company. Besides, who else could Tony trust to keep the company going in the direction he wanted it to go?

She'd even begun to put in more hours in the gym, determined to not only remain fit, but learn to defend herself well enough that she'd be, at the very least, able to slow any would-be-kindappers down. She was nothing if not a realist, after all, and anyone with half a brain and a grudge against Tony would go straight for her.

Tony had told her most of his plans in regards to the Avengers, if the team ever came together, and she'd agreed whole-heartedly. She'd helped as much as she could with the planning for the Avengers' quarters in the Tower, but with the exact roster undetermined beyond two SHIELD agents and Tony at first, there hadn't been much to do. Though Tony had insisted on adding preparations for Dr. Banner, whether he became and Avenger or not. After one good look at his file, Pepper had been all for tracking the man down and hauling him to the Tower and relative safety then and there. She was going to *enjoy* crossing swords with General Ross when the time came, she truly was. How anyone could do those sorts of things to someone, she would never understand.

And then Phil had shown up last night, and 'if' had turned to 'now'. Pepper had done the only thing she could do ... remove herself from the potential danger zone so that Tony wouldn't have to worry about her. From the plane en route to Japan, she had begun to work with Jarvis and various SI employees to get ready for trouble.

She hadn't quite been prepared for the sheer scope of the trouble, though. Watching the battle via the news had been ... horrifying. She'd nearly ended up crying when Tony had called, reassuring her that he was not only alive, but unharmed save for a few bruises and minor scrapes. She'd put her relief to good use, going into overdrive to ensure she was ready to hit the ground running when she got back to the Tower. They were going to be insanely busy for a long time to come.

She was talking to Jarvis the moment she landed, confirming what Tony had already set up, and setting up things he hadn't gotten to yet, confirming the tentative food supply orders Jarvis had put together for the Avengers and wanted someone to check his numbers, since he didn't have an appetite and Tony and her eating habits were not a reliable pool of data to work with.

Despite Jarvis' warning, she wasn't quite ready for the crowd in the penthouse. And this, Jarvis had told her, was a lesser crowd than the one that had been here two hours previously. Several of the heroes of the hour had since gone back out into the city to help find trapped civilians, patch up wounds and start trying to clean up the mess.

Logan, Jean and Ororo were missing of the X-Men, as the other men on the team were all varying shades of 'obviously mutant'. Of the Avengers, it looked only Steve and Thor (and Phil of course) were missing, though she couldn't actually see Bruce. She presumed Bruce was in one of the guest rooms, sleeping off his transformation. She spotted Erik in the corner on the opposite side of the room from Loki, looking understandably unhappy.

For once, she gave guests nary a thought and headed straight for Tony, needing to reassure herself that he really was as lightly injured as he'd claimed. Jarvis had backed him up, for once, but a verbal report was not as reassuring as a visual inspection. Of course, Tony being Tony, he wasn't about to settle for a mere smile and a hug.

Not that she was complaining.

When they came up for air, he had that oh-so-familiar shit-eating grin on his face. The one that said yes, he was genuinely happy, but that he was also contemplating future hellery, and to beware. Aware of who his probable targets were this time, Pepper for once was not going to intervene. In point of fact, she just might offer up a few of her ideas to make things interesting.

She didn't miss the fact he kept his arm around her, the grip tighter than usual, a silent reassurance. Pepper had long realized that Tony was no good at expressing himself verbally when it came to relationships and feelings, but that didn't mean he didn't care or didn't show it.

"So how was Japan?" He asked. As if she'd actually gone there, with all heck breaking loose. Not hardly.

"It was nice. I was barely there long enough for the meeting. Really Tony, I can't leave you alone for five minutes and you're getting into trouble." Pepper mock-scolded.

Tony clapped a hand over his reactor melodramatically. "You wound me, Miss Potts. I can go at least ten minutes. Maybe even fifteen."

Pepper smiled at him. "I'll believe that when I see it. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts."

And Pepper was never, ever going to tell anyone that somewhere along the way, that old, well-worn dismissal had somehow become code for 'I love you' and 'I love you too'. What outsiders never knew wouldn't hurt them, in this case.

Having reassured herself that Tony was in one piece for once, she extricated herself from his side and headed over to the X-Men.

"Warren! It's good to see you. It's been entirely too long." Pepper said, smiling up at Warren.

"Good to see you too, Pepper. You still hanging around the old reprobate?" Warren asked. "Or are you ready to trade up?" He curled a wing partly around her.

Pepper mentally rolled her eyes. Warren and Tony both flirted as easily as they breathed. And in Warren's case, he flirted with her because he enjoyed teasing Tony as much as Tony teased him. Case in point, here came Tony.

"Hey, quit hitting on my girl, Tweety." Tony said. He put one hand on the top edge of Warren's wing, as if he was going to pet the feathers.

That happened to Warren a lot, and annoyed him when it was done by someone who hadn't been invited to do so. But Tony wasn't after petting the wings, oh no. Pepper had seen this one played out multiple times in the past. Instead of petting the wing, he yanked out a feather, then smirked when Warren squawked.

"You keep saying you're not really a bird, Tweety, but you sure sound like one." Tony said.

Pepper ignored him for the moment. "You guys should really be out there helping." She said. "You can't *buy* better publicity than you'll be getting thanks to this."

She was well aware of how tenuous the situation was for mutants at the moment. The Mutant Registration Act may have lost its most ardent supporter and a lot of its steam, but it hadn't been forgotten, and it could easily find another powerful supporter before too long.

All of them hesitated for a long moment. "They will not ... " Hank started.

"Hank, trust me. Go out there. Help. They're hurting too bad right now to be picky, and later, they'll remember that mutants came to the defense of the city, and helped fix what got broken when the aliens showed up. You just might make some very powerful allies."

Predictably, Hank was the first to cave. With his sweet nature and gentle heart, he'dve been wanting to from the moment the dust had settled. Unfortunately, he'd had more than enough experiences of people freaking out about his appearance to make him hesitant.

"Perhaps I should." He finally said, and headed for the elevator.

"Talk to Lucy McKinnon on the third floor. She's with the Red Cross." Pepper called after him. And Pepper knew for a fact that Lucy didn't have any problems with mutants. Her cousin was one, and when he'd been thrown out of his home, Lucy had taken him in. She'd treat Hank right.

"I'll do that." Hank said.

"I will go with you, Hank." Kurt said after a moment, and hurried to join him in the elevator. Scott followed on his heels without Pepper having to argue with him, for which she was grateful.

Well, that went well. Pepper turned to Gambit, who shook his head.

"Non, cher." He started.

Pepper scowled at him. "I know you can speak perfectly unaccented English, Remy." She pointed out.

Remy pouted at her. "Tony, you never told me she was a bully."

Tony just laughed. "How else do you think she manages to keep me of all people in line?" He asked.

Remy gave Tony an amused look. "Point. Anyway, it's no good, me going out there. I'd hurt folks, trying to help them."

"If you used your charges, yes. But you do happen to be exceedingly flexible and a hell of a gymnast, and how many people do you think they're going to have on hand who can wiggle into tight spaces?" Pepper wanted to know.

Remy sighed. "You have a point." He said. "All right, I'll go do m'bit for human-mutant relations. But you're gonna owe me one."

Pepper turned to Warren.

"They need eyes in the sky to spot all the fallen Chitauri soldiers and their gear." Warren said, forestalling her. "I know, I know. I'll go." He at least knew better than to try to fight her. He turned towards the balcony, as the more convenient point of egress for him. Now to see if she could get the rest of the Avengers (sans Bruce, who wouldn't be in any shape) moving. She turned to Clint and Natasha first, and said three simple words.

"Exposure is good."

She knew they would understand what she meant. The more public their faces, the less worth they had to SHIELD, which would make the agency more likely to want to let them go and 'give' them to the Avengers completely without a fight. They'd also have much greater protection against SHIELD trying to make them disappear if they were in the public eye as known Avengers.

They both took her meaning right away, and headed towards the elevator. That left the two truly hard sells ... Loki and Tony. To be completely honest, Pepper wasn't quite sure what, if anything, she could say to Loki to inspire him to render additional assistance.

But then he surprised her.

"I suppose I had better go find Thor. Who knows what trouble he's gotten into without me to watch out for him." Loki said.

Pepper fought down a smile, sure that Loki would eventually resort to actually helping out of sheer boredom after a while. She turned to Tony.

"Nope, not happening. The Mark VI isn't flight worthy." Tony tried.

"And yet I happen to know the Mark VII is ready for use." Pepper said. "Better yet, that one has the jet pack, doesn't it? Which means you don't have to use the palm repulsors to stay level in the air."

Tony eyed her. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"Nope." Pepper said.

"Fine. I'm collecting that I.O.U. later though, still."

Pepper smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now go help. I'll be here coordinating Stark Industries' response and the traffic in and out of the Tower." Among a good many other things.

"Right, see you later." Tony said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before he pulled back. "Jarvis! Get the Mark VII into the assembler stations."

"Already done, Sir. You may deploy at any time."

A couple minutes later, it was just her, Erik, and a sleeping Banner in the penthouse. Erik eyed her with no small amount of awe.

"Did you just browbeat and bully an entire roomful of ... well ... ?" Erik flailed a hand in a gesture that encompassed the room and the people that had been in it not too long ago.

"I did indeed." Pepper said, sounding just a touch (rightfully) smug.

Chapter Text

Darcy and Jane

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Darcy had grown up a tomboy, a single child in a large, extended family of cousins that consisted entirely of boys. When she'd been little, she'd insisted on climbing trees, riding bikes and getting into fights with her cousins like she was one of the guys.

Then puberty hit. With a vengeance. And everything changed, because suddenly, her cousins realized she was *gasp* a girl, and got all weird on her. Worse, her sophomore year of high school, she'd come to within a hairsbreadth of being assaulted.

That sort of thing changes a person. After that, Darcy learned to watch her surroundings, to be aware of everything and everyone around her. She'd also sworn to never be so vulnerable again, and had (illegally, it must be said) bought and carried her first tazer, and learned how to use it. The next guy that got handsy without permission was going to pay dearly for it. Because Darcy? Darcy was many things, but a helpless victim for damn fucking sure wasn't *ever* going to be one of them.

After high school, Darcy hadn't quite known what to do with herself, what she wanted out of life. She'd taken a year just to travel and think, then had gone to college and worked her way through. But even then, she kept bouncing from major to major as things caught her interest or proved to bore her to tears.

Which was how she had ended up at the age of twenty three, working with Jane and Erik for six science credits in the middle of buttfuck nowhereville. And ironically, it ended up working out really well for her, because she and Jane clicked like they'd been long lost best friends all their lives. Granted, Darcy didn't understand more than one word out of five that came out of Jane's mouth when she got talking about her science, but that really didn't matter to either of them.

And then a god had fallen out of the sky. And Darcy had tazed him. Shortly after, Darcy had spent a lot of time wishing the whole thing wasn't so hush-hush that half the MIB didn't know about it, because seriously? That would make for a hell of an entry in her resume, and was probably going to be the highlight of her *life*.

Anyway, Thor fell out of the sky, Jane faceplanted straight into crushville, and Darcy *really* couldn't blame her, because Thor might have come off as crazy, but he was definitely at least a 9.0 on the looks meter. And once the apparent crazy had died down a bit, he'd also proved to be ridiculously sweet, gentle and chivalrous.

Of course, at that point, Darcy's life just completely got out of control, because Secret Agent Man I-Pod Thief (hereafter known as SAMIT) and the MIB showed up, followed shortly by a few of Thor's pals and then that totally freaky robot from hell.

When the dust finally settled, she and Jane were up to their ears in NDA's, Erik had disappeared off to work for the MIB, and Jane was driving herself into the ground trying to find a way to get Thor back.

Darcy still wanted to taze the shit out of him for disappearing on Jane like that. Yeah, he was a god-alien-whatever, but he couldn't drop her a note? Jane had not taken his disappearance and complete silence at all well. There had been booze and tear involved. Copious amounts of booze and tears. And Darcy was not ok with that.

Darcy, being the more 'aware' of their little duo, had known some sort of shit was going down when the Tromso gig landed in their laps out of nowhere. That stank of the MIB, big time. All Jane had cared about was getting to go to a Big Name Lab and do her science with other geeks.

So in between fetching Pop Tarts and coffee, Darcy had kept an eye and ear out. Of course, this being a bastion of Science! they'd only had the one dinky-ass TV and a radio. Both of which went completely fucking apeshit around seven or eight at night Tromso time. Darcy had gotten one good look at the shaky camera footage and promptly stormed Jane's lab.

"Jane! TV, now!" Darcy demanded. Familiar with Jane when science was being done, she didn't give Jane a chance to argue or stall, just grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.

"Darcy, what are you doing!" Jane squealed.

"You'll thank me in a minute. TV, now. Watch it." Darcy said, forcibly plunking Jane down in front of the dinky little set.

It took all of about five seconds for the news to catch Jane's attention. And then, inevitably, someone showed a camera shot of Thor up on a roof with some white-haired black chick, Mew Mew lit up with lightning. Darcy was fairly sure that every dog in a twenty mile radius heard Jane's resultant high-pitched squeal.

"Darcy! It's Thor! He's back! Oh, my, god, will you look at that?"

Because now they were showing a shot of the portal and ... yeah, Darcy was right there with Jane, because those were some big-ass critters that Thor was lighting up.

They were glued to the TV for hours, watching the live reports. When the after-action reports started, Jane shot to her feet.

"We have to ... I need to ... " She spun in place, clearly at something of a loss.

Darcy, thankfully, knew what had her in a knot, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Go, pack. All your clothes, Jane. And your toiletries." Normally, she wouldn't have to be quite that specific, but Jane was in such a dither Darcy was worried she'd forget her own head if it weren't attached. "I'll start making calls, see if I can find a flight into the States." She wasn't going to hold her breath, but she'd try.

Turned out, someone anticipated them. Because right about the time they'd packed everything up and Darcy's tenth call had resulted in failure, someone showed up at the lab.

"Doctor Foster? Miss Lewis?" The man was tall, dark haired, and rather solidly built.

"Who's asking?" Darcy demanded, one hand in her pocket, resting comfortingly on her tazer.

"My name is Mr. Hogan. I work for Mr. Stark. He sent me to pick you and your boss up and fly you to New York City. I believe there is someone there who is looking forward to seeing you."

Darcy boggled slightly. Tony Fucking Stark had sent a plane for them? Was this shit for real? Had this really become her life? She went and got Jane and their luggage, and very shortly they were in the plane and in the air.

Trust Tony Fucking Stark to turn an airplane into a pimpmobile. Seriously, what the hell? Darcy was a snoopy person, and she'd found all sorts of whacked out shit hidden behind panels in the plane. Still, she wasn't going to complain. It wasn't like she'd ever get to fly in a plane like this again. Then again, maybe she would, the way her life was working out these days.

The damage to the city was ... unreal. They had no choice but to hoof it past a certain point, since evidently even the subway system wasn't completely unaffected. The street level was ... completely insane and impassable in anything bigger than a motorcycle, and even that was iffy. There were those funky flying sled things and a couple of big-ass whales in the streets, not to mention all sorts of debris everywhere, and there were potholes the size of your average car from the aliens' guns.

There were aid workers everywhere, and what looked like half the city roaming around lending helping hands where they could. Darcy had little doubt that half the *country* would be here by mid-day given half the chance. It was like 9/11 all over again, only on an even bigger scale.

Eventually, they made it into the Tower, and then up to Tony Fucking Stark's penthouse pad. And Darcy figured she could be forgiven for having heart palpitations, because the sheer amount of mancandy wandering around that place had to be seen to be believed. If Tony Fucking Stark was the ugliest guy in the room you had a *problem*, honey-child, because he was not exactly hard on the eyes, ok? Even with what looked like truly epic bed-head. Hell, even the two dudes kitted out in blue fur were hot, in a weird sort of way, once Darcy got over her surprise.

She spotted Thor about the same time he spotted them. Thor lit up like a fucking neon sign, a huge-ass grin spreading across his face, and Darcy found herself reconsidering her desire to taze him. Damn him. She'd forgotten he had that whole 'lovable goofball' thing going on that turned pretty much everyone around him to mush.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Jane was practically vibrating in place by the time the elevator stopped at the top of Stark Tower. She just hoped ...

In the wake of Thor's absence, Jane had, more and more, begun to wonder if she'd imagined Thor's affection towards her, or misconstrued it. In her more depressed moments, she'd tallied up all the reasons why she probably had been. Because it wasn't like there was any lack of a reason for Thor to just walk away.

He'd been exiled here as punishment, for starters. Then there was the whole 'prince of the realm' thing, and the 'immortal' thing. Really, what reason did he have to even think about her once he'd gotten back to Asgard? For all she knew, he was already married, or betrothed or even just dating, however they did that in Asgard. It wasn't like she'd thought to ask.

Usually, when she got like that, Darcy dragged her to a bar and got her drunk, and Jane felt better in the morning. This time, though, Jane was facing the reality of those what-ifs, and it was driving her nuts.

And then the elevator doors opened onto a penthouse filled to the gills with people, most of whom she recognized from the news in Tromso. There were so many people that she couldn't immediately see Thor, if he was even here. Then, he saw them. Jane figured this out because Thor *really* had a set of lungs on him.

"LADY JANE! LADY DARCY!" Thor boomed, loud enough to make half the people in the room cringe, and *everyone* swing around to find who Thor was yelling about, making her and Darcy the center of attention.

Not that Jane noticed that too much, because Thor hustled through the crowd and suddenly her feet were about three feet off the ground, and she was being hugged half to death by a *clearly* thrilled Thor. Jane gave in to the temptation to wrap herself around him for a moment. When he set her on her feet, the look on his face dissolved all her worries and fears.

Because if that look was anything at all to go by, Thor was definitely still feeling that connection Jane had sometimes begun to wonder if they'd actually had, or if she'd been imagining it. Thor broke from her just long enough to hug the crap out of Darcy, though Jane was pleased to note Thor didn't hug her as long, and let her go a lot quicker. Then he turned back to Jane, took her hand and kissed her knuckles, like he had just before he'd left (and, it must be said, immediately before she'd then kissed him, because like hell was she going to let it go at that!). Jane melted all over again, grinning at him nearly as goofily as he was grinning at her.

"I am sorry I did not return ere now, my lady Jane." Thor said, looking at her. "The Bifrost was destroyed shortly after my return, and travel was impossible. But I spoke with Heimdall frequently as to your welfare."

Awwww. Now Jane was definitely mush. He'd worried about her. And with the Bifrost broken, she'd forgive him for not coming back. It wasn't like that wasn't a good excuse.

"Is everything ok, now, in Asgard?" Jane asked.

"As well it can be, yes." Thor said. "There is much to speak of, to tell you the full tale, but the thing you most need to know is that my brother was ... not himself ... a year ago. Else he never would have done something so rash as to send the Destroyer to Midgard."

Huh.

Beside her, Darcy was giving Thor a sharp look. "He's here, isn't he? Loki, I mean."

Thor nodded. "He is. But I beg you to learn all that has transpired before you pass judgment on his actions."

Jane thought that one through a moment, and decided it was fair enough. Clearly, something was up that they didn't know about that was either complicated and would take a while to explain or that Thor didn't want to go into with so many ears listening.

"I think we can give him a chance, can't we, Darcy?" Jane asked.

Darcy took another minute to think it over, then finally nodded. "Yeah, we can. But fair warning, he tries anything, he gets tazed."

That made Thor laugh. "A formidable threat, Lady Darcy. But I think you will find you have no reason to carry it out." He reassured them, then turned and motioned someone over, whilst tucking Jane under his arm against his side.

The man that walked over was every bit as tall as Thor, making Jane wonder if they all got fed the alien equivalent to Miracle Gro in Asgard, because even Lady Sif had been freakishly tall, when she and the other warriors had shown up in New Mexico. He was otherwise as different from Thor as night from day, physically. Thin, almost overly so. To the point where Thor practically made two of him. He also looked like he might have been ill recently, with shadows under pale green eyes.

"Loki, this is Lady Jane Foster and Lady Darcy Lewis." Thor introduced them. "Jane, Darcy, this is my brother Loki."

"A pleasure to meet you, Loki." Jane said, deciding to go with being cordial. If the guy was here, among the people who'd helped save the city, she would do as Thor asked and give him the benefit of the doubt.

And evidently, the whole bowing over the hand thing was a thing in Asgard, because both she and Darcy got treated to it by Loki. Though his version lacked the 'I am really attracted to you' edge Thor's had with her.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies." Loki said.

"So what all's going on? And who is everyone?" Jane asked. "The news didn't have much in the way of names." It had pretty much been Mr. Stark, Hulk, and Jean Grey that had been readily identified.

Thor introduced them to everyone. Jane tried her hardest not to stare, but in a few cases, it was really difficult. Because wings. And fur. And Jane wasn't afraid or anything, but things like that deserved a good long look.

Jane got sidetracked pretty fast once she was introduced to Doctor Banner. Gamma radiation was tangentially related to her own field, so they had a good deal in common and quickly lost themselves in comparing notes. About five minutes later, Tony wandered over.

"So, here's the thing. I've read your publications. You do good work. And we could use someone who has what it takes to figure out how to build a bridge in space. And I'm thinking you want to hang out near Thor, and he's going to be here. A lot. So, I'm going to pay you triple whatever you're already being paid, and you'll get your own lab."

Jane blinked at him. "Are you ... trying to hire me?"

Tony grinned at her. "Not trying. Already done."

"But SHIELD ... "

"Leave them to me." Tony said. And there was an edge to his smile that was ... more than a little unfriendly. Jane wondered what SHIELD had done to him to get that reaction.

"Include Darcy, and you have a deal." Jane said. Because she was not stupid, and triple the salary with a dedicated (and doubtlessly top of the line, this WAS Tony Stark after all) lab was not something any scientist would sneer at.

"Done deal." Tony said instantly. "Talk to Pepper to get things set up the way you want. I got to head out and rescue the masses." And he headed out towards the balcony and the odd, curved walkway.

A few moments later, his voice could be heard, evidently trying to shoo some birds out of his way. It went on long enough that it garnered the attention of a few others, and Jane finally heard Tony say something about a pair of ravens.

From the chair a few feet away where he'd settled, so as to be near her while she talked science, Thor abruptly sat forward, then got to his feet, walking out onto the balcony. Curious, Jane broke off her conversation with Doctor 'call me Bruce' Banner and followed.

She stopped a bit behind Thor who was giving the pair of ravens parked in the middle of the balcony something remarkably close to a dirty look.

"Those are no mere ravens, friend Stark. Those are Huginn and Muninn, the Allfather's ravens." Thor said.

Oh dear.

Between the two ravens rested a largeish bag, far too big for even two normal ravens to carry easily. Thor stepped forward to pick the bag up, and opened it. Within was some sort of odd container. Thor frowned at it.

"I think this is to contain the Tesseract." Thor said, then glanced around at the others. "The Allfather means for us to return at once."

Tony shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think so. Not without backup at any rate. There any rules about some of us going with you?"

Thor shook his head. "None of which I am aware." He said. "And we will be able to take with us anyone that is holding on to us."

Loki spoke then, sounding oddly strained. "I would recommend, Mr. Stark, going in your armor. Such craft is as respected as great warriors in Asgard. That you are both will give your words great weight."

"It's a plan." Tony said, then turned to the team. "Who else?"

"Let me go get dressed." Was the only answer Captain Rogers gave. The two SHIELD agents both nodded without saying a word, and disappeared to go get ready, which left only Doctor Banner.

"Brucie?"

Doctor Banner seemed to hesitate. "I don't know Tony." He said. "It could ... be a problem."

Tony waved a hand. "I talked you down once, I can do it again." He assured. "C'mon, you know you want to. Different world, Brucie. We'll be *in space*."

Well, that, understandably, seemed to sell Doctor Banner. "All right, I'll come.

Thor turned to Jane and Darcy. Jane looked at Darcy.

"I got my tazer." Darcy said. "I say bring it."

Jane grinned. "Count us in, Thor."

It took a minute or two to get everyone positioned, and the Tesseract out of the vault it'd been put in, but eventually, everyone had a hold of everyone else, and most importantly, of Thor and Loki. Thor took one last look around to double check, then twisted the handle.

Chapter Text

Thor and Frigga

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Thor couldn't help but grin at the various reactions to travel via the Tesseract, and the reactions to his home that swiftly followed. Jane, Doctor Banner and Tony Stark all three were talking to and over each other. Jane beheld Asgard with a wide-eyed wonder that warmed him. He was fairly sure that Doctor Banner and Tony were as awed, but neither of them were as given to open expressions as the lovely Jane.

"Dude. That is one hell of a helmet." Darcy said.

Thor's grin widened as he turned towards Heimdall, who was looking at the large group with something very close to amusement. Heimdall regarded Thor calmly for a long moment, and Thor was quite sure he saw some silent measure of approval.

"This is Heimdall." Thor introduced the gatekeeper. "Heimdall, these are some of the warriors who turned aside the attempted invasion of Midgard." He then introduced everyone to the gatekeeper, knowing full well that in doing so, Heimdall would, in future, watch over them.

About the time they'd all untangled and calmed down a bit, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three rode up, leading Thor and Loki's personal mounts and two other horses.

Tony took one look and shook his head. "I'll fly. I'd break their backs in the suit."

Thor was unsure how much the armor weighed, but he was willing to permit Tony to make that call.

"I've never ridden." Captain Rogers admitted.

It took but moments to sort out who would be riding with whom. Doctor Banner elected to ride with Lady Sif, while Natasha and Clint chose to steer one of the extra horses apiece, with Captain Rogers and Darcy riding behind them, respectively. Jane, of course, rode with Thor.

Thor pointed out the various sights as they rode though Asgard. Soon enough they were at the palace. Tony was already at the foot of the steps, waiting for them as everyone dismounted.

They had barely mounted the steps when the palace doors opened and a very familiar, very welcome figure stood in the opening.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Frigga had long since learned to bide her time when it came to Odin. He would do as he willed, and trying to change his mind was an exercise in folly. But ever did she stand beside him, and when things went awry, as they often did, Frigga did what she could to fix the damage, and she made known her displeasure at her counsel being ignored yet again.

She had not even begun the, as Midgardians said, 'I told you so's' over this latest tragedy. She had disapproved, from the start, of concealing Loki's true parentage from him. She could not see any way that would end well. Unfortunately, she'd been even more right than she knew, though the severity of the damage had been increased by the other factors in play when Loki made the discovery.

She had nigh killed Odin herself when Loki was lost thanks to his ineptitude with the matter. She still refused to join him in his bedchamber, heal his small hurts as she normally did, or even speak to him except when matters of state necessitated it. She had spent much time in her gardens, mourning the loss of her youngest son, for despite his parentage, she has seen him as such from the moment Odin had placed the infant Loki in her care.

Thor had joined her there with increasing frequency over the last year, and she saw him spend much more time than was his usual wont in contemplation. Frigga was not entirely certain upon what subjects Thor had been contemplating, but if the look he'd given Odin when Odin revealed that Loki was alive was any indication, Thor's contemplations boded ill for the Allfather.

Frigga had made a point, in the wake of Thor's banishment, to learn all she could of the current affairs of Midgard. Thus it was that she had some familiarity with the people that Thor had fought beside in the recent battle. That knowledge afforded Frigga more than a little amusement, as she was quite sure Odin was completely unprepared for a band of warriors, weapons smiths, and great thinkers of this caliber, especially from such a source.

Odin had long dismissed Midgard from any considerations due to the (initially) primitive people that had inhabited the world, and their pitifully short (compared to the Aesir) lives. Thus it was that he did not truly comprehend how formidable Midgard had become over the centuries. The Midgardians, in truth, were but a small distance from overshadowing Asgard. Mostly because, after the Jotuns had been trapped on their desolate world, the Aesir had become alarmingly complacent. The Midgardians had done no such thing, and were ever striving for greater achievements. She was looking forward to the chaos this group would sow as a result.

But such entertaining contemplations were for later. Frigga had been fortunate in that she had not been in the throne room when Odin had received word that Thor would be returning. Thus had she evaded any attempt by Odin to keep her from greeting her returning sons.

Her early arrival had afforded her the intriguing pleasure of watching Tony Stark fly and land in his armor. She planned to inquire as to the armor's construction, if she was afforded the opportunity, because she had never seen the like. The Destroyer was the closest comparison, but it wasn't the same, as it was not worn, but controlled by a limited intelligence most closely comparable to most Midgardian computers. It was, probably, more durable, but had only the one weapon, and only a limited ability to carry out tasks. It could not think for itself, nor adapt to changing circumstances. It merely kept attempting to fill out the orders it was given. Nor could it fly.

But that was for later, because the others had finally arrived and dismounted, and Frigga nodded to the servants to open the palace doors.

"Greeting, Midgardians, and welcome to Asgard." She said. "I am Queen Frigga. You are most welcome in the palace. If you so desire, rooms can be made ready for your use."

It was Tony Stark who stepped forward. "Thank you for the welcome, your majesty." He said. "And for the offer of rooms, but I think we'll be sticking with Thor and Loki."

Frigga had assumed as much, but the offer of hospitality had to be made. Her duty done, she walked forward, straight to Loki. She reached up and cupped her son's cheek. "I rejoice that you live and have returned to us, my son." She said, then, heedless of the company, drew him into a hug.

It was a testament to Loki's state of mind that he let her. Not only that, but that he, for a moment, buried his face in the crook of her neck as he had when he was a child, seeking comfort in the face of the day's trials. A whisper-quiet 'Mother' warmed her heart and let her know that, whatever Loki's thoughts on Odin might be, he still saw her as his mother.

She had done as best she could for Loki, the orphaned child of another world. She had let her garden and her library be his refuges against the unthinking cruelty of the other children. She had indulged his thirst for knowledge, and his gift for magic. In truth, she had taken a not-so-secret pleasure in Loki's quick mind. As he had grown, they had entertained themselves with numerous debates on a number of subjects. Granted, in the normal way of things, such things would have taken place with her daughter, but Frigga had borne only Thor. So it had been nice to still have an outlet for that sort of thing.

She turned then to Thor, and smiled at him. "Thank you for bringing him back to us." She told him. "Now, I must go to the throne room, and shall meet you there. Odin is waiting." So saying, Frigga turned and hurried into the palace, taking the back ways to get to the throne room the quicker.

Odin leveled a flat stare at her when she arrived, evidence he knew of her meeting with the Midgardians, Thor and Loki, and did not approve. Frigga ignored him, and took her place on the dais beside him.

Moments later, the travelers arrived, in the company of not just Lady Sif and the Three, but half a company of soldiers. Frigga shot Odin an irritated look, then mentally smirked. Somehow, should things go ill, she did not think half a company would be enough. But let Odin find that out for himself.

"Thor!" Odin boomed. "Why bring you these outsiders with you to this court?"

Thor lifted his chin and stepped forward. "They stand witness, Allfather, to the events that have occurred on Midgard."

Odin scowled. "So be it. Announce them."

Thor looked entirely too pleased to do so. Frigga mentally smirked, wondering how Thor would translate the various Midgardians' ranks.

"This is Tony Stark, a fierce and fearless warrior and weapon smith of great skill, and a prince of the realm."

Well, Frigga thought. That would put people on their toes. While it was not strictly true that Tony was a prince, Frigga was aware that persons of wealth and power as great as Tony's were frequently seen as the next best thing to royalty, so it was definitely close enough. It was certainly making Odin pay attention all of a sudden.

Thor introduced Captain Rogers, Clint Barton and, far more interestingly, Natasha Romanov as fellow fierce warriors of great skill. Frigga made due note to, if at all possible, get Lady Sif and Natasha in a room together where they could compare notes. It would bear some rather interesting fruit, unless she was much mistaken.

Bruce was introduced as both a great warrior and explorer of mysteries, the closest Asgardian equivalent to scientist. This raised more than a few eyebrows, because Bruce did not have the look of a great warrior. Then Thor got to the other two young ladies in their company. There was absolutely no missing the affection in his voice when he introduced the first one.

"This is the Lady Jane Foster, also an explorer of mysteries. It is she and her companion that gave me assistance and guidance on my sojourn to Midgard a year ago. And this is the Lady Darcy Lewis, an able explorer of mysteries in her own right, and Lady Jane's loyal assistant and bodyguard."

To Frigga's relief, Thor made no declarations of affection. While she had little doubt that Lady Jane held Thor's heart in her hands, this was not the time for such an announcement. Odin would fall on it as a ravening wolf would a wounded calf. That particular confrontation would only end in tears. Odin's. Because Frigga knew Thor well enough to know he would stand his ground and fight for someone he loved.

The introductions done with, Odin began the meat of the trial, enumerating what Loki stood accused of, the worst of it treason. Then Odin demanded to know how Loki pled.

That's when things got interesting. Because Tony stepped forward and clapped a metal-clad hand over Loki's mouth before Loki could speak.

"Thor, buddy, you want to break events for us down, so we know what the deal is?"

Thor bestowed such a radiant smile on Tony that it near took Frigga's breath away. Clearly, Thor had been hoping one of his companions would demand to know the full tale.

And Thor told it. All of it. That which he had been witness to, that which Frigga had been witness to and told him of, and that which his friends had been witness to and told him of. Thor spared nothing, not even the bad parts. Throughout the tale, the Midgardians' faces darkened, and increasingly angry looks were being leveled at Odin. Tony asked a few questions, mostly about Asgardian laws and the line of succession, and then turned to Loki.

"So help me, if you say the word 'guilty', I will drop kick you clear back to 'Midgard' without benefit of the Bifrost or the Tesseract." Tony told Loki, his tone fierce. "Far's I can see, according to Asgard law, the only thing you fucked up with forethought was showing those Jotuns a way into Asgard. And I'm thinking you more than paid the price for that mistake since. Everything else you did after you found out you were adopted, and not exactly in your right mind. And again, you've paid the price for that since."

Only then did he remove his hand from over Loki's mouth. Loki favored Tony with a faint smile. Tony turned and leveled a fierce glare at Odin. Frigga held her breath, wondering what Odin would do. It turned out, he was going to do what he did best. The wrong thing.

Odin's face was thunderous as he got to his feet, glaring at Tony. "You presume much, mortal, in my court, to tell me law and punishment."

Tony gave a smile that was all teeth. "I'll assume even more, Odin. Because it's pretty clear to me that you're looking for a scapegoat here. You fucked up, big time. You lied to Loki his entire fucking life, taught him to hate and hunt his own people, and expected the revelation of his true parentage to go well? For that matter, when the hell were you planning on telling him? The day you chucked him back in, what's it called, Thor? Joheim, or whatever? For THAT matter, what the hell was your plan where Loki was concerned? Rub it in the other Jotuns' face that you were holding their prince hostage, or what?"

"ENOUGH!" Odin roared. "GUARDS, REMOVE THE MIDGARDIANS AT ONCE!"

The guards at the edges of the throne room immediately moved forward. The Midgardians instantly closed ranks, Thor, Captain Rogers Natasha and Tony on the outer ring, shielding Loki, Jane, Darcy, Bruce and Clint, the latter of whom had nocked an arrow and was aiming it at the nearest guards from his protected position. Tony's face disappeared behind the mask of his armor, and his hands came up, the circles in the palms brightening threateningly. Thor brandished his hammer, which made the guards nearest him hesitate warily. Bruce had his eyes closed, for what particular reason Frigga was unsure, but suspected it had something to do with holding the green-skinned being he could become at bay.

To say things were tense would be to vastly understate the case. They were literally one wrong move from all out war in the middle of the palace. And then the balance tipped.

Two of the guards, having decided that the side of the circle that the Captain guarded was the least protected, possibly because he wielded only a shield, stormed closer. Seconds later, a bright red dot appeared on the chest of one of the guards, followed swiftly by two thin strings.

Seconds later, the guard dropped, twitching spastically, eyes wide in surprise. There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Darcy spoke up.

"Ok, see, the thing is, old dude? We're not going anywhere." The girl actually pushed through the protective circle, glaring at Odin fit to burn him alive and ignoring Captain Rogers' attempt to pull her back to safety as she fiddled with something in her hands. "And there's really not a damn thing you can do to make us, 'cause see, I'm not even a fighter, and I can lay your boys out flat. They have exactly no chance of forcing *any* of us to do something we don't want to." She pointed a finger at Odin.

"And see, I speak for all of us when I say I agree with Stark. Because you fucked up hardcore, and are looking for a scapegoat, and hey! Loki did bad things, let's blame everything on him!" She waved her hands in the air theatrically. "Except it's really your fault Loki did all that shit, again, agreeing totally with Stark here, what the hell did you *expect*? You do this whole thing all his life ... 'these guys are evil, they need to be wiped out' on and on and on. For ... centuries, I'm guessing?"

Here, she turned to look at Loki and Thor, who both nodded. "And from what I heard from Thor, you kind of treated Loki like shit, which, great move. Piss off the adopted kid, so that when he finds out he's adopted, he *really* goes off the deep end. And from what I'm hearing? Loki mostly did the right thing when you took your nap. Thor'd been sent to Earth to learn some manners or whatever the hell the deal was there, so Loki was the only one left to keep the seat warm. Except those jokers." And here she pointed at Lady Sif and the Three. "Decided he didn't have the right, and to go against *your* orders and fetch Thor to take over. And got pissy with Loki when he told them no. Correct me if I'm wrong here, but ... aren't you supposed to obey royal commands, even if you don't like them, when you're a subject of that royalty?"

She shot Odin an expectant, eyebrow-raised look. "But I'm guessing they didn't get punished for that, did they? Nope. Loki's at fault, so make him pay for it. And ok, yeah, he sent the Destroyer. That? Was a dick move. But by then? I'm thinking Loki wasn't really thinking clearly, and I honestly don't blame him. Because again, how the hell you expected teaching Loki to hate himself to end well, I will never know. That was seriously the dick move to end all dick moves. And I'm guessing here, mostly from the way Thor acted when he got dropped on earth, that you spoiled him rotten."

"Verily." Thor admitted. "I was much the favored child, though it did not occur to me that it was so until very recently."

"Which adds another layer of assholishness to the list, because really? Treating one kid like they can do no wrong, and the other like a fuckup who can't do anything right? If that was your plan, why the HELL did you adopt him? Because quite frankly, the shit you've put him through? He'dve been better off where you found him!"

Darcy took a few deep breaths. Frigga fancied she could see smoke coming from the girl's nostrils, such was her anger. She had certainly silenced even Odin with her rage. The guards were staring at her in stupefied disbelief.

"Right about now, I'm all for taking Loki back to Earth and letting him hang out with us. And I'm pretty damn sure he'd jump at the offer. At least we won't treat him like a pariah." She snorted in disgust. "So much for Asgardian superiority, I guess."

With that, she turned her back on Odin and resumed her place in the now somewhat relaxed protective circle. Frigga saw her pat Loki on the arm companionably, and murmur something to him that Frigga could not hear.

Frigga stepped forward, signaling the guards to back off and backing it up with a glare that had them obeying without looking to Odin for approval. "Forgive my husband his intemperance." She said. "I believe we have gone much astray in this discussion, and would benefit from a break to rest and sup, and then we can reconvene later."

Tony spoke up, his voice sounding odd from within the confines of his helmet. "That sounds like a plan. I guess we'll be taking that offer of a room after all, Queen Frigga."

Chapter Text

Rhodey and Betty

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. I am a mean and evil wretch because I am making you WAIT for the next Asgard bit. This takes place the night of the attack, and in the morning after the Avengers headed to Asgard. Edited to fix what branch of the military Rhodey is in.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Contrary to what practically everyone thought, Tony and Rhodey had not gone to college together, nor had they started out as friends. In the first place, Rhodey was five years younger than Tony. Given that Tony had been in college at the age of sixteen, there was absolutely no way that Rhodey had been in college with him.

Rhodey hadn't met the legendary (for all the wrong reasons) Stark heir until he'd been twenty, two years into his Air Force hitch. At that, the meeting hadn't been planned. Rhodey'd had no idea the man had even been on the base at the time. Not until he'd run into a ranting, wild-eyed, grease-covered maniac in a faded as hell T-shirt and jeans with his hair sticking up every which way who had borne little to no resemblance to the polished, suit-wearing Mr. Stark.

Rhodey had given said maniac a verbal dressing down, mostly for flailing around like that on an Air Force base where some idiot might just decide the mechanic (which is what Rhodey'd thought he was) was a threat and take him down one way or another. It hadn't been until Stane had caught up with Stark that Rhodey had realized just who he'd been scolding like an errant child.

He'd fully expected to get so many black marks on his record that he got drummed out of the Air Force in disgrace for that stunt, but Tony, being the contrary bastard he was, had decided he liked Rhodey, for reasons that had escaped Rhodey's comprehension at the time, and since Tony had managed to drive his latest military liaison off with his antics, Rhodey got the nod.

It had been all business at first. Rhodey'd had his hands full. This had been two years before Pepper came into the picture, so Rhodey'd been entirely on his own trying to figure out how to handle Tony. The traditional ways of interacting with military contractors sure hadn't come close to working.

Somewhere in that first two years, before Pepper, they'd somehow managed to become friends. Rhodey still wasn't entirely sure how or exactly when it had happened, or how the hell he'd ended up seeing Tony as an annoying younger brother when Rhodey was younger than Tony.

Rhodey was fairly sure that the day would never come when just hearing the word 'Afghanistan' *didn't* have him seeing red. God, that had been ... there weren't words to describe how Rhodey had felt, the day it'd happened. Coming under fire, scrambling to deal with it as everything was getting blown up, and when the dust finally settled after backup arrived, realizing that TONY WAS MISSING.

The field medics had been forced to dope Rhodey to the gills and knock him out to keep him from storming straight into the desert then and there, injuries be damned. Even at that, he'd gone AMA *and* AWOL, completely without shame, the second he'd woken up. Fortunately, he hadn't been badly injured, just a bullet crease and some stone shrapnel from near misses.

Doubly fortunately, the Air Force was eager to get Stark back, and decided to pretend Rhodey had gone looking for Stark on their orders. Granted, they probably would have given that order, but Rhodey hadn't wanted to wait.

When there was not so much as a whisper by the end of a week, everyone started giving up. Everyone except Pepper and Rhodey and a small handful of others. In a way, Rhodey could sort of understand it, because without a ransom demand or anything of the sort, and with far too much Afghani countryside to scour, the chances of Tony being alive *if* they ever found him would, to outsiders, seem to be nil.

But outsiders didn't know Tony the way Rhodey and Pepper did. So they kept looking. Jarvis scoured every computer and server he could possibly get his metaphorical claws into, searching for some evidence of Tony's whereabouts.

It had, in point of fact, been Jarvis that had found a fair-sized encampment in the mountains that had far, far too much Stark weaponry. Rhodey had been in the process of talking his superiors into a recon when the place had blown sky high. He'd been sent out immediately.

It had taken every ounce of Rhodey's Air Force discipline to stay with Tony and *not* go steal some Jericho missiles and firebomb the shit out of the entire fucking area when Rhodey discovered what had been done to Tony. God, he'd been so pissed.

Still was.

Rhodey admitted that, back in the States, he'd dropped the ball. Between dealing with his own feelings regarding Tony's kidnapping and torture and the whole arc reactor in the chest thing, Tony's epic levels of PTSD, Obadiah being weird and the Air Force being really, really pushy about getting Tony back on the weapon making bandwagon, he was inclined to forgive himself for putting his foot in his mouth. At any rate, he'd gotten his head out of his ass in time to help Tony deal with Stane as best he could.

Things had gone back to relatively normal for a while. Then Tony started getting erratic again.

Rhodey was never going to forgive himself for that one. He should have figured it out. Or, for fuck's sake, at least been a sympathetic ear or something. Stealing the War Machine, wrecking Tony's house and giving the fucking suit to the Air Force had been the shit move to end all shit moves, and he still couldn't quite figure out why he'd done it. He'd been utterly horrified when he realized that Tony had been *dying* that whole fucking time, and facing it completely alone.

After Vanko had been dealt with, Rhodey had looked the Air Force dead in the eye and told them to fuck off, before handing the suit back to Tony, along with as much of an apology as he knew Tony would accept. Three days later, Tony handed him the suit back, this time with Stark Industries weapons and Jarvis to help him. Which had been good, because the two brief flights he'd had under his own power with the non-AI computer system in the suit had been ... interesting. And not in a good way.

It had been another month of constant work with the suit before he was able to keep pace with Tony without Jarvis taking over to keep him from bashing into things or falling out of the sky. Rhodey was a more than fair pilot, but flying the suit was *nothing* like flying a plane or helicopter. With planes and helicopters, there were buttons and levers. The suit was a second skin, where the 'buttons and levers' were your own body and movements. Rhodey's pilot training had worked against him, so he'd had to 'unlearn all he had learned'.

And now, all hell was breaking loose. And Rhodey meant that more or less literally. The military as a whole was having kittens and conniption fits in equal measure. They'd changed their minds a dozen times as to whether he was to be deployed or not since the attack, just for starters.

Since the fight seemed to be over, Rhodey had opted to just take the suit out for a spin. If they eventually decided to send him to NYC, he'd be up and ready to go. If not, well, he needed to keep up his flight hours in the suit anyway.

Of course, that was when Jarvis piped up. "Colonel Rhodes, Sir wishes me to ask you for a favor."

"Name it and it's his, Jarvis." Rhodey told the AI instantly.

"He wishes for you to go to Cheyenne Mountain and escort Doctor Ross from the premises to Stark Tower."

Doctor Ross? "Doctor Ross? Any relation to General Ross?"

"His daughter, in point of fact." Jarvis told him.

"And Tony wants her at the Tower ... ?"

"Doctor Ross is a brilliant scientist in fields the members of the Avengers Initiative would benefit from. Further, she is the paramour of one of the Avengers, Doctor Banner."

And now, Rhodey was putting the pieces together, because you couldn't have served in the Army the last few years without hearing certain rumors. Not to mention the fact that Tony had crowed for DAYS after the Harlem incident. "Why do I think there's more to this than meets the eye, Jarvis?"

"Because you are correct." Jarvis said. He then informed Rhodey of the full situation. By the time he'd finished, Rhodey was scowling.

"That is just ... not right. At all. I mean, yeah, Banner can evidently do some serious damage when he gets pissed off, but that doesn't make him *property*. Not of anyone, nevermind the military. He's still a person. Yeah, I'm definitely in. I can be there in an hour. I probably won't extract her until morning though. I can waltz in there easy enough right now, but if I leave right away, and with her, someone is bound to notice. Easier to sneak her out during a change of the guard."

It was times like this that Rhodey blessed his long association with Tony. He had a security clearance much, much higher than his rank would normally warrant. That had mostly been a result of being Tony's liaison, and the fact that Tony *talked*. A lot. About anything and everything, with little regard for NDA's when he was in his lab and on a science kick. So Rhodey'd had to have clearance to know about the stuff Tony blathered about.

Rhodey had also learned how to bullshit at the knee of a master. He was going to need both skills to get Doctor Ross out of the mountain without the Army chasing after them. Rhodey was just thrilled that the War Machine armor could open enough for him to get out of it without needing an assembly/disassembly station, because Cheyenne Mountain didn't have one. Tony had worked that feature out, rightfully assuming that Rhodey would have to get in and out of the armor in a whole lot of places, only a few of which could be outfitted with a station to help him.

Rhodey landed in front of the guard station, making no attempt to hide his arrival. Very shortly after that, he was escorted in, able to leave the suit (locked down by Jarvis) tucked against a wall until he was ready to get out of here with Dr. Ross. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to go far carrying her, just to the nearest airport. Jarvis had a plane already standing by, ready to take off the moment they arrived.

Rhodey sort of got swept up in meetings with various brass for a bit, but this ended up being a good thing, because it allowed him to confirm that the General was not in residence at the moment. Probably, Rhodey thought acidly, he was already en route to the city with one of his goon squads to attempt to collect Banner.

Rhodey smirked mentally, wishing Ross luck. He was going to need it. Even if he by some miracle managed to run the Pepper Potts gauntlet, he would still have to contend with Tony, and that was one battle the General wasn't going to win.

He managed to wrangle a tour of the science labs, under the excuse of putting together an investigatory team to poke and prod at the Chitauri tech. That allowed him to get eyes on Betty, who looked a bit on the thin side, and grimly unhappy. Rhodey didn't blame her. Being held hostage by your own father had to be a bitch.

He even managed to slip her a note before he left her lab.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Betty wasn't sure it was possible to hate a person more than she hated her father. He'd refused to let her have any freedom at all since the Harlem incident. He'd locked her away in Cheyenne Mountain, complete with what amounted to a cell, though he claimed it to be 'living quarters with a convenient travel time to her lab'.

Escape had proved impossible. She was constantly watched, and the one time she'd managed to get to the surface, she'd been escorted back down to her quarters by MP's. Worse, the General was doing everything in his power to keep her ignorant of events in the wider world, probably hoping to keep her from finding out if Bruce was still alive and free.

That didn't work quite as well as the General had hoped, because people talked, so Betty picked up bits and pieces and was able to put the rest together on her own. Today, though, she hadn't had to resort to sneaky eavesdropping, because the entire base was like a kicked-over hornet's nest. People were rushing everywhere, yelling about aliens and portals and monsters. It still hadn't calmed down even after the evening meal.

Shortly after that, they had a visitor. None other than War Machine. Who proved to be a clean-cut (of course) genial man with a distinctly mischievous gleam in his eye. Because Betty had been paying attention to him, she spotted the fact that there was an additional bit of paper on her workbench when he left. She swept it and several other papers up once he was gone, and, careful to keep her actions concealed from the cameras she knew of in the room, peeked at the note.

'Banner well and safe with Stark. Meet me in cafeteria for breakfast.'

Betty blinked, barely daring to believe. If the note meant what she thought it did ... Ruthlessly, she squashed the burgeoning hope. She would not do that to herself. She would not.

Nope, still hoping. Damn. This had better be what she thought it was.

Somehow, she managed to get through the rest of the night. She even managed to keep to her normal routine, knowing that any deviation might attract attention. The next morning, she headed to the cafeteria, and grabbed her usual breakfast. About five minutes later, Colonel Rhodes sat down across from her with his own tray, and began talking to her.

Betty quickly figured out what he was up to. He was talking about the gamma emissions the portal had given off, and wanting to calibrate his suit's sensors to pick that sort of thing up. Which meant he would need someone who knew something about gamma radiation to work on the suit. Which was up on the surface.

"Tony will probably be pissed with me, but he doesn't know gamma from a hole in the ground, so I need someone who knows what they're talking about to do it." Rhodes told her.

She offered to do the calibration, and somehow, Rhodes managed to sweet-talk the suits in charge for the day into letting her. How he managed that one, she didn't know, but she was grateful for it.

Once on the surface and near the suit, Rhodes whispered to her in an undertone. "Do the calibrating. I'll have to get in the suit to run the scans and make sure it works. When I do that, get behind me, and grab hold of the gun mounts."

Betty didn't risk responding verbally. She just did as she was told. Half an hour later, she was done, and her hands started to shake a bit as she moved, as casually as she could, around behind the suit as Rhodes stepped into it. Once the various panels had stopped moving, she lunged forward and got a death grip on the gun mounts on the suit's shoulders. Three seconds after that, Rhodes took off like his tail was on fire, blasting out of the mountain at stunning speeds.

Betty missed most of the ride, as she had to bury her head and close her eyes tight to deal with the force of the air rushing over her. They landed entirely too quickly to have gotten to New York City, though.

Sure enough, when she lifted her head, they were in an airport.

"Leggo, quicker you do, quicker we can lift off. Can't fly you there with the suit. You'd never be able to hold on that long." Rhodes told her.

She prised her fingers off the gun mounts and bolted towards the plane a few feet away. Rhodes followed behind her, lifting off briefly to fly to the landing in front of the plane door rather than try to climb stairs that probably hadn't been built to take something as heavy as the War Machine had to be. Moments later, they were in the plane and it was already taxiing to take off. Rhodes peeled the armor off while Betty collapsed into the nearest seat.

"He's truly all right?" She demanded. "And not a hostage?"

That made Rhodes laugh. "He's fine. And there's no way he's a hostage with Tony. Tony ripped General Ross a new one and crowed for DAYS over the Harlem snafu. Not a chance he'd be party to keeping Banner prisoner."

"You know him well enough to say that?" Betty asked.

Rhodes nodded. "We've worked together for fifteen years, and been friends for thirteen or fourteen. Tony is ... a lot different than what you see in the news rags. He's a stand-up guy. And the general will play hell getting within twenty miles of Bruce with Tony on his side."

Betty breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for that, Colonel."

"Call me Rhodey. Pretty much everyone in Tony's circle does, and you are definitely going to be in his circle." Rhodey told her.

That made Betty smile. "Rhodey, then."

Chapter Text

Pepper, Fury, and General Ross

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Hit the deck, folks. There be fireworks ahead.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Pepper descended on the Stark Industries Public Relations Department first thing in the morning.

"Where are we on setting up a campaign blitz?" She wanted to know when she found Henry, the head of the department and a shrewd, capable operator after her own heart who had helped her salvage more than one Tony snafu over the years.

"We've already got an awareness ad going." Henry said. "Had it about an hour after the attack ended. Nothing but camera still from the fight, but it'll hold us until we get something more polished on the airwaves. Which we ought to have completed before lunch."

"Excellent. I want a heavy positive focus on Hulk and the two SHIELD agents. And I want their code names to be on everyone's lips."

Henry gave her a piercing look. "There's more you're not telling me."

Pepper nodded. "But for this, we need a more private conference."

"My office awaits." Henry told her, motioning towards the open door.

Once they were inside, Pepper locked eyes with Henry. "I want you to prepare a negative media blitz against General Ross and SHIELD, but do *not* release it." She told him. She tapped her tablet. "I've just transferred a few files to your tablet for your perusal, so you know why, and where to hit them if we need to."

Henry immediately grabbed his tablet and rapidly flipped through the files. He didn't get far before he was actively growling. "Oh, it's going to be my pleasure, Miss Potts. I'll get working on that right away, and make sure the team knows to slant towards the three you mentioned. We're lucky, in that we pretty much have our choice of nicely heroic shots to use, even for Hulk. Actually, especially him. He took down one of the whales almost single-handed."

Pepper nodded. "Your second challenge, should you choose to accept it." She told him, grinning wryly at him for the joke. "Is to prepare a positive-angle media blitz that focuses solely on the mutant defenders. Their code names are in one of the files I sent you. We need to get people to realize that mutants can be heroes as well as villains."

Henry nodded firmly. "You got it, Miss Potts. It'll be easy enough to do up the two campaigns and run them side by side. I'll contact you when we're ready to start broadcasting."

"Excellent, Henry. I'll talk to you later."

That done, Pepper headed for her next stop ... the company legal team. She put them to digging up every scrap of law and precedent that could possibly apply to the SHIELD and Ross situations. She was by no means fool enough to think she wouldn't need it. To be perfectly honest, she was surprised Fury hadn't tried something already. Ross, at least, would have to get here before he could cause a problem.

From there, she had to liaise with the emergency services personnel who had set up command centers on the lower levels of Stark Tower, mostly to ensure they had what they needed to be able to coordinate their own forces, and work out which of the hero defenders would be working with which group today. About that time, she got a ping from Jarvis, notifying her that the Avengers had left for Asgard, time of return unknown. Pepper frowned slightly for a moment before she smoothly changed around the roster. While it was irritating that some of the people who needed exposure so badly wouldn't be available, it was, on the other hand, going to do the mutant half of the defenders that bit more good.

That done, Pepper headed for her own office, to tackle the various other tasks she would have to deal with. The Board needed soothing, for one, though thankfully, since Stane's plants had been weeded out, they'd become a good deal less alarmist. They seemed to be realizing that Tony had a stunning ability to land in shit and come out smelling like the best perfume.

Then there was organizing and confirming a number of deliveries. There was construction and waste removal equipment, bottled water and generators that needed to get to the various affected people, and with the scale of the attack and the damage done, the more people distributing, the better. She also arranged for Stark Industries heavy-lift helicopters to assist in hauling debris away from the center of the war zone to where wheeled vehicles could take over, as there were relatively few helicopters with that sort of lift capacity available.

She also sent a large donation and a Stark Industries construction crew to help fix the damage to the subway system, which had fortunately been fairly light. The area hit by the invasion was going to be depending solely on the subway for a while, as the streets and bridges would be impassable for months, no matter how fast everyone worked. She then sent a note to the transportation development teams to try to figure out some sort of vehicle capable of moving over any terrain (or water). It wouldn't be ready before the streets were fixed, but if they could figure something out, it would be invaluable in other disaster areas, and earn SI a mint in sales.

She'd just wrapped that up when Jarvis informed her that Rhodey had completed his mission, and was currently flying Doctor Ross to the Tower, and would be there within a few minutes. Pepper smiled, then told Jarvis to tell Rhodey to relax in the penthouse suite, and she'd be up to see him when she got a chance.

She'd just finished talking to Henry and approving the new campaigns when Jarvis pinged her again to get her attention.

"Miss Potts, Director Fury is on the line."

Pepper grinned viciously. "Put him on, Jarvis. By all means."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Fury had been having a really bad week. First, Barton had been compromised, and he'd been shot. That ... wasn't so bad. The getting shot, that is. Barton getting compromised, Fury had taken as a godsend. He'd hated the insolent little shit from the word go, and had fully expected Coulson to put a bullet in the brat's head.

It had never ceased to burn him up that Coulson managed to get Barton to work with him. Well enough that Fury couldn't excuse 'losing' the son of a bitch. SHIELD had no place for disrespectful loose canons. That Fury hadn't been able to capitalize on Barton's compromised state to kill him burned Fury up.

Then that Stark bastard had run to the freak brigade for help fighting the aliens that were coming. THEN, everyone had mysteriously gone incommunicado. He hadn't been able to get a call through to the Tower, where he knew damn well everyone had gone, in order to order Barton and Romanov back to HQ. He was blaming Stark for that one, too.

The ad and news campaign flashing Barton and Romanov's faces all over the place was just the icing on the cake. He needed to regain control and he needed to do it now. At least the call had finally got through. Better yet, to Potts.

"Put me through to Stark, Potts, wherever he's hiding. Or better yet, tell my team to get their asses back to HQ."

"I'm sorry, Director, but the Avengers are not available for interview at this time." Potts said.

Had Fury mentioned he loathed Stark's piece of tail on the side? Fury was convinced that was the sole reason Potts had gotten as far as she did. What other use did Stark have for a pretty face?

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Pepper was enjoying stonewalling Fury. She knew exactly what Fury thought about her ... he'd hardly be the first, or the last, to think along those lines. She loved it when people like him underestimated her like that. It made her inevitable victory all the sweeter.

She wrangled back and forth with him for several minutes before Jarvis sent her a discrete ping, then flashed a message across a surface that Fury could not see, followed by several pages of a file. Pepper got one good look and very nearly laughed. Someone in the law department was going to get a hell of a pay raise. Because not even she had known this. She didn't think anyone did.

"Director Fury, a question if I may. Are you aware to whom your agency owes its ultimate existence?" Pepper asked.

Fury gave her a dirty look. "The SSR was our parent organization." He said, in a 'how do you not know this' tone of voice.

Pepper smiled. "Actually, Director, you are incorrect. After the loss of Captain Rogers, the SSR was shut down and disbanded completely. After all, it had been born for the Super Soldier project, and with the sole example lost, and no possibility of creating more, and no more war, the agency was redundant." Pepper said. "At that time, Howard Stark took upon himself the financial responsibility of locating Captain Rogers, retaining many of the old SSR staff under his employ for that purpose, as they had been comrades in arms for years."

Fury wasn't entirely stupid. From the look on his face, he knew where this was going.

"Near the time of his death, Howard was apparently well aware his time was running out." Pepper said. "Though I doubt he anticipated his death quite so young. He set up a fund and contracts so that the search for the Captain could continue unabated in the event of his death. It is from this beginning that SHIELD sprang."

Which meant, in simpler language, that SHIELD wasn't actually a governmental agency. It was a private one. One that had been put together by and answered to Howard Stark. And from the (still on *paper*) files someone in the law offices had found and copied, Howard had ensured that the infant agency he'd 'fathered' would remain under Stark control, due to his desire to find the Captain for at least a proper burial, if nothing else.

They were still receiving quite a chunk of their annual income from the fund Howard had set up, to boot. Fury had, essentially, performed a hostile takeover, unbeknownst to herself or even Tony. Though she did wonder if perhaps Stane had known. She wouldn't put it past him.

"Now, seeing as Stark Industries is actually your parent organization, the Avengers Initiative falls under our banner, as do the people assigned to the Initiative. Which means the Avengers are under Stark Industries employ, and I have deployed them as I see fit." Pepper smiled at Fury serenely.

Fury didn't miss what she hadn't said. Yes, she had laid claim to the Avengers, essentially telling him to back off, but there had been another threat there. 'I can and will shut you down if you fuck with me'. He gave an inarticulate snarl and signed off.

"May I offer my congratulations, Miss Potts?" Jarvis asked.

Pepper grinned. "Jarvis, whoever found those records, make sure they get the biggest pay raise and bonus in Stark Industries history. Because that? That was pure gold."

"I quite agree, Miss Potts, and have so informed the payroll department." Jarvis told her.

Pepper got another hour's work done before Jarvis suddenly interrupted, sans ping this time.

"Miss Potts, you should know that an Army team under the leadership of General Ross has been spotted making their way towards the Tower."

Pepper scowled. "I know he isn't here at the moment, Jarvis, but lock down the Avengers levels. Full protocols. I don't want anyone in or out of there that doesn't belong there. You have the current list of permitted persons. That way, if they come back before I run Ross off, Bruce will feel safe."

"Done, Miss Potts. Shall I alert the X-Men as to the situation?"

"Warn them they're going to have to be careful of the elevator." She said. "So they don't accidentally let someone into it with them. But hold off on bringing them back to the Tower for now. I want to see how Ross plays it first."

"Very well, Miss Potts." Jarvis said. He left a screen up for her, so she could watch the General's progress through the city.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Ross had never, would never, give up on capturing and containing the monster. So when he'd seen it rampaging around New York City ... again! ... he'd scrambled his team to get there as soon as possible to pick up the monster's trail. He *would* have the monster, one way or another, he would control it, and recreate it, and he would be forever vindicated and remembered in history as the man who revolutionized warfare as man knew it.

It didn't take long to find where the monster had gone. Stark was sheltering it. Well, Ross would fix that. He owed that man one after his condescension a year ago. Who the hell was Stark to question him? An Army General? Hadn't Stark learned to listen to his betters?

He stomped into the lobby of Stark Tower, and snorted when Stark's Rent-A-Cops tried to stop him and his men.

"Stand aside. We have government business to attend to."

"I'm sorry, General Ross, but we have been told to bar you entrance." The man in the lead said, giving Ross a level look.

"I am an Army General on a military mission, you will not bar me from that mission." Ross snapped, motioning his men forward.

"I sincerely doubt the Army has signed off on enslaving someone, *sir*." The man snapped, his tone loaded with contempt and scorn. Behind him, the rent-a-cops pulled their weapons.

Ross nodded to his men. But before they could do anything, two things happened at once. One, the rent a cops started shooting, and two, his men started dropping their guns. It took a few seconds before Ross realized the two things were not fully connected. The shots proved to be some sort of anesthetic dart rather than bullets. As for his men dropping their weapons, the floor seemed to have magnetized abruptly.

Clever. Stark had evidently outfitted his security teams with nonmetal weapons, banking on the fact that most invaders would use weapons that were either entirely or a good percentage metal.

The security chief had the gal to smirk at Ross. Ross snarled, turned, and stormed out, leaving his unconscious soldiers to their fates.

Chapter Text

Loki

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Loki had expected a number of things from their trip to Asgard. He had expected the Midgardians to put forth a token effort at defending him. He'd expected to be judged guilty and then killed, or worse.

He had not expected Tony to silence him before he could speak in his own defense, though he realized Tony had thought he would simply offer his plea rather than attempt to sway Odin. He had not expected a demand for the full story. And he most especially had not expected anyone to get it, if they had asked. He'd assumed that if it came up, the person that asked would get an edited account of what had happened.

He hadn't expected the Midgardians' outrage on his behalf to be a palpable, almost visible thing. Nor had he expected to see a 'mere mortal' dressing down the Allfather like he was an erring child. Loki was going to treasure the Allfather's outraged bellow for the rest of his days.

But Lewis? That young female was ... breathtaking. She was not, after all, a warrior. And while Loki had long since learned the folly of assuming a non warrior was defenseless, Lewis was a mortal, facing off with immortals with powers she could not hope to possess. Watching her go on the warpath all the same had been a thing of beauty. She had been fierce and fearless in a way that no trained warrior could ever be, because warriors were trained to be fierce and fearless. This had been pure and raw, a force of nature unleashed.

And then she'd topped it by turning her back on the Allfather like she knew she had nothing to fear, and not because of the warriors at her back, slipped back into their protective cordon, and patted his arm before murmuring to him.

"No wonder you went off the deep end. What an asshole."

While Loki had always had his mother to rise to his defense, she had been his only consistent defender. Even Thor had failed him from time to time. So this ... this was unique in his experience. To have people see the trials to which he had been subjected and disapprove. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it, to be entirely honest. Though he was more than slightly tempted to laugh at her insult to the Allfather.

Frigga led them from the throne room herself, slipping her arm around one of his, which he bent automatically at her touch. Loki was familiar enough with the path they trod to be able to turn his attention to the others, and was forced to suppress his amusement. Rogers and Barton were staring at Lewis with dumbfounded awe and respect respectively. Romanov had the sort of slit-eyed, pleased look on her face one saw on a cat after a successful hunt. Banner was snickering quietly. Stark hadn't pulled his faceplate up yet, so Loki was unsure of his reaction.

Thor came up alongside Frigga, walking on the other side of her. "I do believe I misspoke, mother, when I announced the Lady Darcy." There was more than a little amusement in Thor's tone. "It would seem she is a true warrior at heart, as well as her other attributes."

Much to Loki's suprise, Frigga made an ill-concealed noise of amusement. "Indeed, Thor. I am inclined to agree. I have not seen the like since the Lady Sif beat up three young warriors in the training salle the first time she stepped into it."

Loki barely choked back a laugh. Mostly because he well remembered that day. Thor had been one of the ones Lady Sif had drubbed so badly. Mostly, it had to be admitted, because Thor had gone first, and had not expected the scrappy little girl Sif had been then to be any sort of challenge at all.

Thor, though, had no reservations about laughing, then grinned widely. "Aye, that was a day to be remembered." He agreed.

They were brought to the rooms they would be using for the night, and Frigga kissed both himself and Thor on the cheek before bidding them to summon a servant if there was aught they needed and taking her leave.

A few moments after she left, Stark finally lifted the faceplate of his helmet, and Loki discovered the true reason behind him keeping it down. Stark was positively *howling* with laughter. That got most of the rest going, and for several moments, there was naught but the sound of hilarity. Loki was amused to find himself trading exasperated eyerolls with Romanov.

Rogers was the first to recover. He turned to Lewis, a grin still tugging at his mouth. "Miss Lewis? I don't blame you for losing your temper. I'm not even going to scold you for bawling Odin out, because you were right, we all agree with you. But if something like this happens again? Please don't leave the safety of the group. If Odin had decided to try to hurt you, it would have been far too easy for him. And someone else might not refrain from attacking you."

Lewis cocked her head at Rogers for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough."

Foster reached over and smacked Lewis on the arm. "You are completely insane, you know that, right?" She asked.

Stark finally calmed down enough for speech. "That was beautiful, Lewis. I am seriously tempted to adopt you for that. I haven't seen that level of vicious since the last time some idiot pissed off Pepper."

Romanov cocked an eyebrow at Stark. "That idiot being you?"

Stark snorted. "Yeah, no. Not hardly. That would be Ross. Why do you *think* his reputation has tanked so suddenly in the last year, when he'd been chasing Bruce for years before that without any damage to his reputation?"

Romanov looked impressed. "That was her doing?"

Stark nodded. "She wanted to wreck his life the way he'd wrecked Bruce's. I may not be building weapons anymore, but I still have a lot of military contacts. She used them."

Lewis looked thoroughly discomfited by this, but also pleased. "I'm just sorry I couldn't taze Odin himself. He deserves it. But the leads wouldn't reach that far."

Loki stared at Lewis for a moment. "I find myself disappointed." He said. "The look on the Allfather's face would have been ... priceless, had that happened."

"Agreed." Stark said, staring at Lewis again.

"I'm with Stark." Barton said. "I *like* you. And kind of want to adopt you. You're almost as terrifying as she is." he indicated Romanov.

Thor was grinning like an idiot, one arm draped around Foster. "Come, friends. There are some hours before nightfall and the need for rest. I would give you a tour of Asgard, if you would agree."

Everyone seemed to agree to that. Well, except Loki.

"I will remain. My welcome is likely to be ... poor." Loki said.

Thor frowned at him. "Nay, brother. You will walk with us. And do any speak ill of you in my hearing, they will earn a taste of my wrath. If there is aught I learned from my sojourn to Midgard, it is that there is more to life than combat, and skill in other arenas should not be mocked. It is well beyond time such a lesson was learned by all in Asgard."

Damn Thor anyway. The big lug still seemed determined to drown Loki in affection and protection. It both warmed him and chafed him at the same time. Knowing that Thor would be stubborn about this, and that the others seemed to agree with him, Loki gave in to the inevitable. There were some things that even Loki Silvertongue could not achieve.

The tour went well enough. Only a handful of people dared to give Loki dirty looks or mutter about his presence. Thor was as good as his word, scowling viciously at the offenders, Mjolnir twitching in his grip. It was enough to subdue and silence all but the most impertinent and foolhardy.

Most that approached them seemed fascinated by the Midgardians, and content to ignore Loki in favor of sating their curiosity. The group returned to their assigned rooms and settled in for a night's rest, allowing Loki to finally have some peace and privacy in which to think.

He had a decision to make. Oh, the decision to leave Asgard and not return until Odin was dust was easily enough made. The real question was where to go from there, and what to do with himself. He had a number of options available to himself, even with the threat of Thanos hanging over his head. Given a week or so to fully recover from the last year, Loki knew he would be back to full strength. At which point he would be, if not able to defeat Thanos, then at the very least a formidable opponent. Loki might have limited himself to illusions and the like when he used his magic around other people, but he was capable of far, far more than that.

That said, Midgard was proving to be a very tempting place to spend the next while. Thor would be there, at least until the danger of Thanos was past ... if Thanos could be turned aside or defeated, that is. Possibly for the length of Foster's life, if their affections for each other remained true. Plus, Midgardians, while they still looked askance at persons who defied the 'norm' for their gender, did not scorn and ostracize such persons uniformly across the realm. In many places, ignoring gender barriers was actively encouraged. Beyond that, intelligence and ambition were prized commodities, no matter one's gender, and tended to be richly rewarded in one capacity or another. Well, richly rewarded by Midgardian standards, at least. And considering there had been no reward save those he gave himself, Loki wasn't about to sneer at approbation from any quarter.

The more Loki considered it, the more he realized the decision had been made. Midgard it was, then.

The next morning, Thor, Loki and the Midgardians joined the general assembly at the morning meal. Loki noticed that Thor chose to sit beside him, well away from both his usual companions and a scowling Odin. Once their fast had been broken, they removed themselves to the throne room once more.

Loki had no idea what Frigga had said or done to Odin overnight, but he seemed to at least be making an effort to not deliberately antagonize the Midgardians this morn.

"What further evidence have you?" Odin wanted to know. "To support your claims that Loki ought face no consequences for his fell deeds?"

The phrasing got him an irritated scowl from more than one of the Midgardians. "Well, if we're done pointing out the many, many, many ways that lying to Loki about who and what he was was wrong and bound to backfire horribly." Stark said, flashing teeth at Odin and, Loki knew, turning Odin's attempt to make Loki sound willfully guilty of everything that he was accused of back onto Odin. "There's the fact that Loki was not exactly in his right mind when he was making those decisions, which means he shouldn't be held responsible. It's a little something called 'diminished capacity' that we 'mere Midgardians' take into account when bad things are done by people."

"And you rest your claim of this 'diminished capacity' on what?" Odin wanted to know.

"The fact Loki tried to commit suicide." Stark said.

Loki flinched. Damn, he'd hoped that no one had picked up on that.

"See, according to Thor there, who was more or less eyeball to eyeball with Loki when it happened, Loki's hand didn't slip off the end of your spear there. He. Let. Go. And unless I'm missing something, he had absolutely no reason to think he'd survive a fall through the void. Anyone who's in the sort of frame of mind it takes to want to end their lives? Not exactly thinking rationally." Stark said.

"And even if he was fully in his right mind when he made those decisions, he landed in the lap of this Thanos joker. Who proceeded to spend the next months torturing Loki and trying his damndest to break Loki's mind. Granted, some shit went down, but I'm thinking Loki has paid the penalty for those actions several times over at Thanos' hands. Throwing him in jail, or whatever you were planning, is overkill."

Odin scowled at them. Loki kept his expression bland even as he wanted to smile. Odin doubtless realized that Loki's fate was, ultimately, out of his control. Through Heimdall and his ravens, Odin had seen what this particular band of Midgardians was capable of. Did they put their minds to it, they could reduce Asgard to rubble in a matter of days. And they were making it plain that they intended for Loki to be spared whatever judgement Odin had planned.

The Allfather knew a lost battle when he saw one, even if it displeased him greatly. "Your argument is made." He growled. "Loki Odin ... "

"Your pardon, Allfather." Loki interrupted. "But I am not, and never have been, an Odinson." He fought the desire to sneer at the name. "Nor a Laufeyson, thanks to your actions. It would seem, that I have no father." He looked at Frigga, the only parent he was willing to claim. "It is tradition, in Asgard, if the father of a child is in question, for the child to take the mother's name. If it please Queen Frigga, I will hereafter be known as Loki Friggasson."

Frigga gave him a brilliant smile. "It would please me greatly, my son." She said, then slid a look at Odin that was pure smug pleasure.

Odin looked as though he had swallowed glass. "So be it. Loki Friggasson, you are hereby found not guilty of the crimes to which you stand accused, and are free to go."

There was a brief cheer from some of the Midgardians. Loki gave the Allfather a nod and then turned and walked out. The Midgardians were quick to follow him.

"So, I say we blow this joint." Stark said. "And get back home."

There was general agreement from the rest of the Midgardians.

"Allow Thor and myself a bit of time to pack some of our things, so we need not return to Asgard unexpectedly, and we can leave. I confess I shall be glad to see the back of this realm." Loki said.

The Midgardians agreed to that, and Loki made haste to his rooms to pack his things. Not for the first time was he grateful for his skill at magic, else he would have never been able to pack even a tenth of what he had collected over the years.

Loki packed few baubles or mementoes ... he had few in the first place. He packed no clothing, as he would stand out in Asgardian attire. His armor, of course, did not need to be packed, as it went wherever he did. The bulk of what Loki packed was books, a formidable library of magical texts, histories for the various realms, and various treatises on subjects outside of magic that had caught Loki's interest over the years. The remainder of his luggage was weapons and the few aids and anchors he needed for more complicated magics. It all fit into a single trunk.

His own packing done, he went to rescue Thor, who was doubtlessly making a mess instead of packing. Sure enough, when Loki walked in, Thor's rooms looked as if they'd been attacked, Thor's belongings strewn hither and yon. Loki shook his head.

"Brother, you truly need a keeper." He sighed at Thor, who looked abashed. "Here, allow me to assist."

It was the work of moments to modify one of the trunks Thor had pulled out the way Loki had modified his own trunk. Then Loki sorted through the wreckage. "No clothing, Thor. We will be on Midgard, and it behooves us to dress as they do, outside of battle. Bring your extra weapons, as well. You may end up needing them."

Thor got himself straightened out after that, and got everything he wanted to take with him packed. Fifteen minutes later, they rejoined the Midgardians, and made their way to where Heimdall stood watch, the container holding the Tesseract in his hands.

"Gather in a circle, as you were when you arrived." Heimdall instructed in his deep voice. "With the Tesseract returned to us, the Bifrost will be rebuilt within a few weeks. If you have need of assistance, I will be watching."

Everyone gathered into the tight circle they'd been in when they left Stark Tower, and Heimdall activated the Tesseract. Loki squeezed his eyes shut against the bright light of being transported, and when he opened them, they had returned.

"Welcome home, Sir." Jarvis said seconds later. "Much has transpired in your absence."

Stark snorted. "I just bet it did."

Chapter Text

Bruce and Tony

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Bruce was incredibly relieved to leave Asgard behind. It had been a beautiful, intriguing place, but their reason for being there had not done good things to his sense of calm. The other guy was grumble-growling something fierce in the back of his mind and, weirdly, seemed almost ... guilty? Bruce wasn't quite sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't the usual rage.

It took them a few moments to sort themselves out. Tony had to get the suit off, and there were so many people on the balcony already that no one else could come out, and not being the tallest of the group, Bruce couldn't exactly see past everyone into the penthouse.

When the crush had cleared somewhat, Bruce was not at all surprised to find Pepper there, heading straight for Tony. The black man that came out behind her, though ... he grabbed all of Bruce's attention for a few moments, because he had a distinctly military bearing. The other guy stirred uneasily.

"Pep! Rhodey! You missed all the fun, sugarplum!"

The black man, Rhodey evidently, grinned. "Not hardly, Tone. Not hardly. We've been having fun while you lot were off playing geek."

"Everybody, this is Rhodey. Rhodey, this is everybody." Tony said, waving expansively. Then he grabbed Rhodey's arm and all but dragged him over to Bruce. Bruce tensed worriedly. "Brucie, this is Rhodey. I know you have a thing with military types, but Rhodey's cool. He's put up with *me* for years."

To Bruce's surprise, Rhodey just smiled at him, and offered a hand to shake. "Doctor Banner. It's going to be nice to have someone around here for Tony to talk geek at. I don't understand about seventy five percent of what he says when he gets going." Then, Rhodey got a bit more serious. "And for the record? Ross is a moron who makes a mockery of the uniform. When I found out what he'd been trying to do ... " Rhodey shook his head. "How he's escaped a court martial, I don't know."

Bruce swallowed a couple of times as the tension that had started to knot between his shoulders eased. "Thank you."

"Rhodey, you did remember Bruce's present, right? Tell me you remembered his present."

Rhodey laughed. "I remembered it, all right." He said. "It's been here since midday yesterday. I missed you guys by a couple hours. It's down in his room right now."

"Perfect. You're a peach, Rhodey. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. C'mon, Bruce. You're going to *like* this present. C'mon, c'mon. Go go go!"

Bruce had no choice but to laugh, in the face of Tony acting like an eager child, and allowed Tony to herd him towards the elevator.

"I know you guys kind of all congregated in the penthouse, and that's cool, but I sort of built floors for everybody once I found out about the Initiative." The elevator doors opened, and Bruce stepped out of the elevator, then stopped and stared in shock. He didn't even notice when Tony didn't follow him, and the elevator doors closed behind him.

The floor had been designed with both him and the other guy in mind. The entire floor was open-plan, with as few walls as humanly possible. All the furniture was low and wide and looked like it was strong enough to support even the other guy's weight. Floor clutter had been kept to a minimum ... it looked like everything that could be had been recessed into the walls, which allowed for more freedom of movement for someone the other guy's size, and reducing the odds of him trashing things. There was a thirty foot ceiling, plenty high enough to keep even the twelve-foot-tall other guy from feeling closed in. The walls were done in warm beiges, blues, and greens. There were big, sturdy planters with various plant life tucked into numerous alcoves and a waterfall against one wall, and like up in the penthouse, one entire wall was nothing but windows.

Bruce had to close his eyes against the swell of emotion. Tony had designed and built this. To accommodate both Bruce and the other guy. It was enough to take him out at the knees, because this? This was a level of welcome and acceptance he hadn't seen since Betty. God, he missed her.

"Hello, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes snapped open and his head snapped around at the sound of that voice so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. And he was back to staring, because rising from one of the couches (how had he not seen her?) ... was none other than Betty.

"Betty." He all but whispered her name, not quite daring to believe that she was really there.

But then she was closing the distance between them, smiling warmly at him. Hugging him. That broke Bruce at least partially out of his stunned paralysis, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and holding her tight as it finally sunk in that this was real, that Betty was here.

They stood like that for a while. How long, Bruce didn't know and didn't care. Eventually, though, they adjourned to the couch, where Bruce ended up with his head in Betty's lap while she ran her fingers through his hair. Quiet reigned for a while longer, before Bruce finally broke it.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." He admitted.

"I was afraid of the same thing." She admitted. "The General ... " She sighed and shook her head. "Well, it hardly matters now. It's over, I'm here, you're here. So far everyone I've talked to here has nothing bad to say about you or ... is Hulk really his name?" She asked.

"Not ... really. It's just what people call him. I don't know that he has one." Bruce said, then grinned up at her. "You were right, by the way, the last time we talked. You said he could be reached and reasoned with. I thought you were full of it then, but you were right. I've ... learned to stop fighting him, all the time. It's not perfect, but it's better."

Betty smiled down at him. "That's good. That's really good." Then, she playfully tweaked his nose. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me." She scolded mildly.

"I am officially never not listening to you again." Bruce told her. "I should know better than to not listen to you by now, really."

That got him another of her radiant smiles. "I've been exploring the place since I arrived." She said, eyes gleaming. "Have you had a chance to see the labs?"

Bruce shook his head. "No. I was sleeping the transformation off that evening, then we took off for Asgard right after breakfast the next morning. But Tony invited me to check his labs out, before the fight. Called it Candyland."

"He's not wrong. I've *never* seen labs like this, Bruce. Then again, we've never had a sugar daddy billionaire who likes to play with science toys."

Bruce laughed. "I want to see his face when you call him that. I really do." He said. "The other guy likes him." He admitted. "He doesn't even hesitate around me, Betty. Something happened to make the other guy want to come out really bad somewhere that him coming out was a very, very bad idea, and Tony plunked himself down five feet from me and started telling old science jokes to help me pull the other guy back."

Betty smiled widely. "I'm glad. I'm glad he's not afraid. None of the others seemed to be, either. It's good to see."

"It's even better to experience." Bruce said. "I had planned to tell Tony I'd stay, once we got back, even before this." He waved a hand, indicating the floor and Betty. "But now he's going to have to resort to drastic measures to get me to leave."

"Teletubbies on loop?" Betty offered.

"Don't give him ideas." Bruce begged with a laugh.

+_+_+_+_+_

Tony gave the closed elevator doors a soft, pleased smile that the general public never, ever saw on his face. Hell, only Pepper and Rhodey had seen that smile. Then Tony bounced on the balls of his feet, and the grin morphed to something closer to a smirk.

"J, when they remember the rest of the world exists, tell them they're welcome to order in if they're not ready to join the horde just yet." He said.

"Certainly, Sir." Jarvis said.

Moments later, the elevator doors opened, revealing the penthouse again. Tony bounced forward and headed for Pepper, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek.

"So. According to both Jarvis and Rhodey, you guys had some fun while we were away." Tony told Pepper.

Pepper smiled at him. "Definitely. Fury finally called a little bit after you guys left."

Tony grinned. "Do tell!"

"He wanted Barton and Romanov back. We exchanged a few words. Then one of the legal team I'd set to finding anything that could be used for or against us with SHIELD found this." She handed him a Starkpad with a file already on the screen.

Tony took it and scanned it quickly. Stopped. Blinked. Then went back and read it. Carefully. Slowly. Then he looked up at Pepper, eyes wide. "Tell me this says what I think it does."

Pepper grinned at him. "You own SHIELD. Literally. It's a Stark Industries company. Fury just pulled a hostile takeover after your father died."

A wide, toothy grin slowly took over Tony's face. "I own SHIELD." He practically purred the words. "I. Own. SHIELD." And then he started snickering and the grin turned positively evil. "I can fire Fury. Hey! Get Agent up here. He's about to get a promotion."

Pepper laughed. "I had a feeling you'd say that, and talked to Phil late last night when he came up to get some sleep finally. He told me to tell you he'd taze you if you tried to give him the job. He's got enough to do trying to keep up with Natasha and Clint."

Tony pouted. "Damn. Well, I'll try to figure out what the hell do to do with SHIELD and Fury later. What else did we miss?" Tony wanted to know.

"The *other* Ross showed up. Three times." Pepper said, sounding faintly exasperated. "The first time, I don't think he knew his daughter was here. The second time, he definitely did. He was literally frothing at the mouth."

Tony shook his head. "The security protocols working?"

"Like a charm. And the security team leader threatened to shoot Ross on sight if he shows his face again." Pepper said.

"Ohhh, I like that guy. J, make sure he gets a raise."

"Certainly, Sir."

"How're the X-Men doing?"

"Good. That new guy, the one Steve knows, finally came out of hiding after you guys left. He seems to have adjusted to what Steve told him." Pepper said. "They've been working with the aid teams the entire time. Lucy McKinnon wants to keep Hank and Kurt, I think." She said with a laugh. "She told me they were a godsend to rescue operations."

"Duh. Hank's a certified genius, stronger than Rogers, and a capable field medic. And Kurt can teleport, which means he can get people to help or safety a heck of a lot faster than anyone else possibly could." Tony waved a hand. "But she can't keep them. I have first dibs."

Pepper smiled at him. "Of course, Tony." She said. "Though I think Charles doesn't see it your way."

Tony waved that away. "He's old. Old people get senile. They're mine."

Tony shook himself and then straightened. "I'd better point everyone where they need to go while the X-Men aren't around to get all jealous of the team's digs." He clapped his hands.

"Everybody into the elevator. Bring your stuff. Move it people. Let's go." He started waving his hands at the rest of the Avengers, trying to shoo them onto the elevator.

After a few amused looks between themselves, they went. Tony slid in with them.

"Ok, here's the thing. Floors. You have them. Top's me, of course. But if you noticed, the balcony curves down to the next floor down. Thor, buddy, that one's yours. The balcony is reinforced to take me landing on it hard, so it'll handle you no problem." The doors opened to Thor's floor.

"Reindeer Games, I don't have a floor set up special for you, because you were a surprise. You can either hang out here with Fabio or take one of the generic floors until I can kit something out for you."

Loki considered Thor, then Jane, then looked at Tony. "As much as I would be pleased to live near my brother, I believe a floor to myself might be prudent."

"Right, you got it. No problem. Ok, Thor? One rule. No calling Mjolnir unless you can see it, or unless you can make it curve around things. Because if you start knocking holes in everything, you and I will be having words, god of thunder or no." Tony shook a finger at him. "I made sure everything in here was strong enough to deal with your level of strength, too."

Thor took the scolding in good part. "My thanks, friend Stark." He said looking around. The room was bright and airy and things were clearly labeled and, where possible with electronics, kept simple so that Thor could operate them without having to resort to assistance from Jane. "These are most handsome lodgings."

"Next up is you, Rogers." Tony said. He grinned when neither Thor nor Jane actually got off on their floor, clearly wanting to check out everyone else's places.

Steve's floor was an artist's dream. Like Bruce and Thor's it was open-plan, and had one whole wall that was nothing but windows, affording a spectacular view of the city below. Like with Thor's quarters, Tony had kept the electronics simple, as no matter how adaptable Steve might be, it was a heck of a jump from 40's tech to the sorts of things Tony built and preferred to use, which Steve would have to deal with elsewhere. Tony had decided that having simpler tech that Steve wouldn't have to fight to figure out how to use in his living area was a good idea. One corner of the main living space was taken up with all manner of artistic necessities, a tilted drawing desk, shelves with drawing supplies in every conceivable medium stacked neatly alongside a veritable forest of different weights of paper and other surfaces on which to draw.

"Next up are the community floors. First floor has a communal kitchen and dining area, and a communal entertainment area with games, TV, that sort of thing. Basically, somewhere for everyone to hang out when we want to." Tony told them. The entertainment floor was also ringed by a catwalk and small lofts for certain folks who liked to be up high.

"Second floor is a training area. I've got a standard firing range in there, weights calibrated for us normal people and ones for you super strong types. Special punching bags for you, Rogers, since I hear you like to wreck them. You won't manage to wreck these." Tony grinned. "There's an infinity pool, a regular pool and an area to spar in. There's also stuff to turn the sparring area into a gymnastic area. And Legolas, there's a special range for you in the basement. Standard shooting range just didn't go long enough, and there wasn't room to go further in the Tower itself." Tony wasn't going to tell Barton that it wasn't just the length of the range that was different. He was going to let Barton find that out on his own.

Barton eyed Tony. "You built a range especially for me."

"Yup." Tony said, popping the 'p'.

"Marry me."

Tony laughed. "Sorry. I am a one-Pepper man, Barton. Bruce is the next floor, but I think if I let you guys see right now, he might just kill me." Tony said. "After him are the floors for you two and Agent. They're sort of interchangeable, since I didn't know if you two would want to live together or what the deal was."

Like the others thus far, the 'Agent' floors were open-plan, with high ceilings. Ceilings that were ringed by a narrow catwalk and little lofts like the communal entertainment floor. One of them had a distinct red-white-and-blue color theme that only just escaped being a Captain America tribute in that there was nary a star nor stripe in sight. It was, for Tony, a subtle poke at Agent's fanboy status.

"There's several empty floors below you guys that're intended for Avengers, since I didn't know how big the team would be, and the labs are below that, not that anyone in here but Foster cares about that. And that's it. Go scoot. Enjoy. If you need anything, let Jarvis know and you'll have it next day at the latest unless you're asking for something that needs to be built." Tony told them, and then proceeded to head them back up, shooing everyone out on their designated floors as they went.

Chapter Text

Scott and Logan

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Scott groaned as he leaned against the wall of the elevator. He had a headache that bordered on being a migraine from using his optic blasts so much the last three days. He'd spent the two and a half days since the attack using his blasts to cut rubble into pieces that could be managed by the helicopters or rescue crews. He'd hadn't used them as much in a month as he'd used them the last three days.

Carefully, he rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the tension. Thank goodness the X-Men would be returning to the mansion in the morning. While they all wanted to help, and Scott planned to sent a rotating roster of the team to the city every day, they really couldn't afford to have the entire team gone from the mansion for any longer. Charles was formidable, but as Scott had learned six months ago, he could be taken out of action. And while several of the older teens had admirable control of their powers, leaving them to defend the mansion while the entire team was gone was a port of last resort.

That said, it had been incredibly gratifying to be openly welcomed and hailed as a hero by what had seemed to be the entire populace of downtown NYC. Scott wasn't fool enough to think it would last, or that it had even been that overwhelming a percentage, but it was nice while it lasted.

"Your pardon, Mr. Summers, but Sir took the liberty of ensuring certain pharmaceuticals were stocked in the infirmary on the lowest level of the Avengers' floors." Jarvis said, his voice pitched to a near-whisper.

Scott blinked at the ceiling. "In other words, he has my migraine medication, and go get it." He said, sounding faintly amused.

Yeah, he couldn't stand Tony ninety percent of the time, but then he did stuff like this and Scott just couldn't find it in him to bitch at Tony. "Sounds like a plan." He said. He didn't have a migraine yet, but he was so close to the edge it wouldn't take much to tip him over.

The elevator doors opened on the floor in question, and Scott quickly found the drug cabinet. He swallowed a pill dry. "Thanks, Jarvis. And thank Tony for me."

"You are welcome, Mr. Summers. And I shall do so." Jarvis said.

Scott got back in the elevator and went all the way up to the penthouse suite where he and the other X-Men had slept the night before. He blinked when he spotted Logan. He hadn't seen Logan since Captain Rogers had recognized him.

He and Logan had had a rough start. Logan was as prickly as a porcupine, suspicious to the point of paranoia and blunt and plain-speaking to the point of offense, not to mention aggressive. It really hadn't helped that they both had alpha male personalities. Things had started to get a bit better in the weeks following the Liberty Island incident.

For one, Scott's initial impression of Logan had gotten a hell of an adjustment. Because yes, Logan was all those things, but he would also go to any length to help someone under his protection. And for all his antagonism with the adults in the mansion, Logan had seemingly inexhaustible amounts of patience and an almost shocking gentleness with the kids. Especially Rogue, and, incredibly, one of the more ... damaged ... kids in the mansion, John Allerdyce.

For that, Scott could forgive Logan a lot, and had done his best to form, if not a friendship, then at least a less antagonistic alliance with the man. That plan had actually met with some success over the last few months. It helped that Scott was used to not taking Tony's flirting with Jean seriously. It made learning to do the same when Logan flirted with her a lot easier. Of course, the fact that Jean had come up with her own reward system for Scott tolerating Logan had helped *immensely*. Despite Scott's reputation for having a steel rod up his ass, he was all for that sort of reward scheme.

Logan wasn't the only 'returnee' in the room, either. The Avengers were back. Scott wandered over by Tony, who was talking animatedly with Doctor Banner. "Tony. How was Asgard?"

"Hey one-eye! You missed out on some fun. Fabio and Reindeer Games decided to hang out on Earth full time for a while. Loki didn't get in trouble with Odin, either." Tony smirked widely.

Scott eyed the smirk. That expression said there was something Tony wasn't saying, and that whatever it was, Tony thought it was great. Given the situation, and Tony's general idea of 'great' things, Scott was almost afraid to ask. Almost.

"Ok, what else happened. Because you have that look on your face." He said.

"What look?" Tony asked, trying for innocent and not even getting close. Scott was entirely convinced that Tony was incapable of looking innocent as a toddler, nevermind as an adult.

"That look."

Tony snorted, but then caved. "Darcy tazed a guard. And bitched out Odin. It was gorgeous to watch."

Scott frowned, trying to remember which of the young women he'd seen for all of about five minutes the morning before. "Which one is she?"

Tony pointed. "The one *not* currently cuddled up to a god of thunder." Tony said.

Scott turned and spotted the two women he'd met so very briefly. Sure enough, one of them was tucked against Thor's side and looking thoroughly pleased to be there. The other was a few feet away, talking with Hank.

"Ahhh, ok. And she got away with this?" Scott said.

Tony smirked. "Yeah. Like I said, gorgeous to watch. And funny as hell."

Scott snorted. "Well, I'm out of here. I need a shower and some sleep." And a chance to let the migraine medicine do its work, but he'd wanted to find out what had happened in Asgard first.

From her spot near Darcy and Hank, Jean got to her feet and headed for the bedroom they were both using. Scott met up with her halfway there.

"Darcy is attempting to argue Hank into letting her help him get cleaned up." Jean said, sounding thoroughly amused.

"I wish her luck with that." Scott said sincerely. Hank was ... touchy ... about his mutation. Despite the fact it was impossible for him to effectively clean or brush roughly half his body, he point-blank refused anyone's assistance. "She may even succeed." He said. "If she's brave enough to yell at a guy that's essentially a god."

"Did she really?" Jean asked.

Scott nodded. "Not sure of all the details, but according to Tony, she 'bitched out Odin'." He headed for the attached bathroom. "I'm for the shower. I have dust and grit in places I really don't want to think about."

Jean smiled at him. "All right. I'd offer to join you, but you're wincing."

It was things like that that made Scott fall in love with her all over again. That she watched him closely enough, cared to get to know him well enough, to be able to tell when he was wincing. With pretty much the entire top half of his face was obstructed from view, noticing something like that took careful observation. That she knew what him wincing meant, and that as much as he loved her, getting frisky was very much not on the table tonight. And she was ok with that. Scott kissed her on the cheek, then went to go get clean.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Logan had spent the last couple days taking his confusion and irritation out on defenseless rubble. And, much to his aggravated amusement, attracting a growing assortment of traumatized kids that had gone to ground during the attack and were only now beginning to come out of their hidey holes.

Logan hadn't been able to figure out at first what the hell it was about him that drew kids to him. He honestly hadn't know that about himself before Rogue had stumbled into his life, mostly because the sorts of places he patronized were extremely short on anyone under the age of twenty-one. When more and more of the youngest kids at the mansion had started trailing after him, he'd thought Rogue was talking him up to them at first.

She'd laughed at him when he'd accused her of it to her face, then explained it to him. "You put out this vibe, Logan. A really solid, protective vibe. It's a hell of a draw when your world's been turned on its ass. Meeting you was the first time I'd felt safe since I ran away from home."

Logan had snorted and ruffled her hair, which made her grin.

"And in my case, it really doesn't hurt that you've never once flinched away from me. That you do shit like that to me, despite my skin."

Logan had had to grumble at that. Yeah, Rogue's skin was dangerous, even to him if she held on too long, but for god's sake, that didn't mean people had to keep a thirty foot radius around her at all times. She kept herself covered up enough that about the only way for an accident to happen would be for her to trip and literally face plant into someone AND have her face hit bare skin. Not real good odds on that happening.

Though he was man enough to admit the discovery that touching her hair didn't trigger her skin had been made accidentally. Logan was the only one who wasn't afraid to hug Rogue, and he'd been doing exactly that one day when her hood shifted enough to expose her ear, which had been covered by her hair. Because Logan didn't freak the hell out if she got within five feet of him, he hadn't realized it until he'd gone to pat her head and touched hair. And hadn't gotten zapped by her skin. A careful experiment revealed that as long as a thick hank of her hair was in the way, touching wasn't a problem. He'd been ruffling her hair ever since.

Thankfully, Logan wasn't the only one not scared of her. There were a few others. A couple of girls, and then of course Bobby, who was dating Rogue. All things considered, Logan kind of liked Bobby. He'd had the balls to try to intimidate Logan and warn him away from Rogue in a romantic sense.

Not that Logan had actually ever looked at Rogue in a sexual light. She was sixteen fuckin' years old, for fuck's sake. Logan was a lot of things, but a pedophile for fuckin' sure wasn't one of them. He could see where people might get a bit confused, though. It wasn't like he and Rogue weren't tight as hell, and had been from the word go. Even Logan still didn't understand how the hell that had happened, and Rogue was a mature sixteen that if you didn't know better could pass for eighteen, so he could understand folks getting confused.

The fact that she acted more than a little bit like him, thanks to absorbing so much of him, probably didn't help. He'd overheard Jean and Hank debating about why the hell Rogue still showed signs of his personality, and even his speech patterns sometimes, when she'd never shown so much as a flicker of that fucker Mags' personality, and she'd got about as much from him as she'd gotten from Logan.

Logan had eventually gotten curious enough to ask Rogue that question himself, despite the fact Jean and Hank had asked her and apparently not gotten an answer. Logan had not been at all surprised to get an answer himself.

"I didn't want him in my head." Rogue said. "And you were there, poured into me and desperate to protect me, save me. So I didn't fight you. Let you flood everything until there was nothing of *him* left." She'd grinned at him. "Guess it took long enough to wipe him out that some stuff from you became permanent. I really don't mind."

Logan could definitely live with the idea of a piece of him wrapped up in Rogue's mind, ready to protect her from another invasion. He just wished she hadn't had to deal with the nightmares that had plagued her for months after the incident that had nothing to do with what she'd gone through. She had enough to deal with without dealing with his crap too.

He'd called her yesterday, told her about Rogers, and what Rogers'd said. Thanks to having absorbed so much of him, she understood where he was at right now. Just having that sympathetic ear had helped a bit. Helped him figure out what the hell to do with it, now that he had any answer at all to who he'd been, when he'd never expected to discover anything at all.

So Logan planned to hang around a lot. Maybe even work with the so-called Avengers. God knew, that with two assassins and the Hulk on their team, they wouldn't be as prone to looking at him cockeyed as the X-Men were. His 'shoot first, questions later, if they live' mentality had been a bit of a sore spot with the more pacifistic group.

Chapter Text

Tony and Steve

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The day after Asgard, Tony headed for his lab.

Not without a bit of a discussion with Pepper, first, it must be said. She'd wanted him to help with the recovery effort more. Tony had pointed out that he really didn't need the publicity, and he *did* need to not only fix the Mark VI so it was operable, he needed to build at least one new suit besides the Mark VII, because the Six was going to be nothing more than a 'I am so fucked and all my other suits are dead, need something now!' backup.

Thankfully, Pepper knew him well enough to know that keeping him out of the lab made him rather cranky, so she didn't push. Tony grinned as he yanked on a thick black tank top and then an old, faded AC/DC shirt, blanking out almost all of the glow from the reactor.

Normally, he didn't wear the tank top too, but there were relative strangers in his house. Tony could barely tolerate Pepper touching his chest most days. His chest, not the reactor. Not even she got to touch the reactor without him reacting. He'd kept the reactor covered and hidden as much as possible since Stane, unless he was in the suit.

Part of him realized he was being fucking ridiculous. No one in the Avengers section of the Tower was going to steal the reactor, for fuck's sake. He knew that. But he kept it covered all the same. PTSD was a bitch, but he'd learned to deal. He'd reengineered the damn reactor so that he could fix and replace it without assistance. He'd learned to avoid still the water issue by switching to bubblebaths or showers only. And he made damn sure to keep his armor in place in public.

Dummy was right on the other side of the lab door, clicking and whirring anxiously. Tony patted his claw. For all Tony's bitching about Dummy, Dummy had always been his favorite of the three bots. And that was before Dummy had saved his life.

And as it turned out, not even simple AI's were completely immune to their equivalent of worry. Dummy had developed a habit, after the Stane incident, of checking Tony for visible damage anytime he was gone from the lab for any length of time.

Tony was perfectly fine with being an enabler. So he moved far enough into the lab that Dummy could circle him and check him over. Once Dummy came to a stop in front of him, he patted Dummy's claw again.

"I'm fine, Dummy. No damage. Now scoot. We've got work to do."

Dummy chirped happily and scooted off as fast as his wheels would let him.

"He was more worried than usual." Jarvis said. "I was unable to prevent them being aware of the attack."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, that'd do it." He said. "All the replacement panels fabricated?"

"Indeed, Sir. Do you wish to begin with the repairs, or were you planning on working on developing a new armor first?"

Tony headed where the Mark VI was lying in sections on one of the larger workbenches. "Repair first, Jarvis. Playtime later. Run track four for me, will you?"

"Of course, Sir." And moments later, the lab speakers were blasting heavy metal at ear-bleeding levels. Tony grinned, grabbed a wrench, screwdriver, and pair of pliers and went to work stripping the wrecked panels off.

He'd gotten most of the wrecked panels off and was fighting with and cursing at the crumpled, twisted mess that was the right forearm gauntlet about an hour later. Several of the connections and joints that held the gauntlet panels to the rest of the suit had gotten crushed, making yanking them off particularly difficult. Dummy was hovering, endeavoring to be helpful and, as per normal, mostly getting in the way.

He'd just snagged his finger on a jagged edge when the connection he'd been working on unexpectedly snapped out of his grasp when Jarvis interrupted him.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is at the door and wishes to speak with you."

Tony grumbled as he cleaned his hand enough to dab some skin glue on the cut so he could finish with the suit. "Let him in, Jarvis, and turn the music down."

The door popped open and Rogers stuck his head in.

"Not out saving kittens today, Cap?" Tony asked.

"Pepper wanted one of us to stay just in case Ross tried something again today." Rogers told him. "So I volunteered. My being Army might help."

Tony snorted. "Your being you will be what helps." It was only then he glanced over at Steve, who was staring around the room in interest.

"You know, when you said lab, I was picturing ... something a lot different." Rogers said.

Tony laughed. "Most people do." He agreed. "So you're down here ... why?"

"Curiosity. Fury's file on you was ... " Steve's brow wrinkled. "Incomplete."

Tony laughed. "Now there's a shocker. What'd you want to know?"

He wasn't quite ready for the question Steve asked first.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

When Pepper had asked for someone to stay in the Tower against Ross being an idiot, Steve jumped at the opportunity. For one, while he liked helping people, he still felt like a performing monkey doing so in the uniform, which Pepper's plan for positive media exposure sort of required that they do that so they were recognizable as Avengers. Well, at least for everyone except Tony. Tony was recognizable enough to get away with not using the suit.

Besides, he really wanted to talk to Tony. Of everyone in the group, he knew the least about Tony, thanks to Fury. Clint and Natasha were easy enough to figure out, even if he didn't know specifics. Snipers were snipers, even if they used ... unique ... weapons. It wasn't too hard to figure the sorts of missions Clint had been on. Same general idea for Natasha. Steve knew he was probably missing the magnitude of their ops by a margin, but he was at least in the general neighborhood. Bruce had been easy enough to look up to find stuff he'd published. As for Thor ... well, Steve had read the Eddas. He was pretty sure a good chunk of it was nothing but tall tales, because he can't begin to see Thor doing some of it, but it gives him a base to work from if nothing else.

Tony? At this point, Steve's not willing to bet that what Fury put in Tony's file isn't a bunch of lies. So he's going to start from scratch.

He headed down to the lab, and walked in when the door opened. He blinked when he got in, because this place was ... not a lab. At least, not the sort of lab Steve was used to. This place bore a closer resemblance to a mechanic's garage. There were tools, grease, parts and machinery everywhere. Steve could see a big bundle of parts that looked like it might be the Iron Man armor minus the red and gold exterior sitting on one big work bench. Tony was hunched over another workbench, cussing a blue streak at ... something that Steve couldn't see from this angle.

He let Tony's playful-sounding jabs roll over him until he could finally ask the question he wanted the answer to the most. "What happened in Afghanistan that changed things?" He asked.

For a moment, he wondered if he should have gone with something easier, because Tony abruptly went white as a sheet and sort of hunched in on himself.

"Darn, Tony, I ... you don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have ... " Steve stammered.

That seemed to make Tony rally. He uncurled a bit. "It's fine, Cap." He said, a blatant lie if Steve had ever heard one. "What made you ask?"

And Steve recognized a stalling tactic when he heard it, but given Tony's reaction, he was going to go with it. "I know what a man on a mission looks like." Steve said. "The thing about missions is ... something has to happen to get you on one."

"Being kidnapped isn't enough?" Tony asked, his tone odd.

"Can be. But then why keep going? From what I've pieced together, you wiped out the people that took you within weeks of making the second suit. If it was just about kicking their asses, you'dve quit then."

Tony regarded him for several long moments. "There was another guy there." He said, his tone quiet and strained. "Yinsen. He's the one that kept me alive." A drum of fingers over where Steve knew the arc reactor was illustrated how. "Helped me build the first suit." Tony took a deep, shaky breath. "He didn't make it out. Got shot up during the escape trying to buy me time for the suit's computer to boot up. I found him before he died. He told me not to waste my life."

Then Tony buried himself in fussing with the piece on the workbench he'd been cussing at. Steve let him go for a few minutes, let him get his feet back under him for a bit. Sat down on a nearby bench to watch Tony work. Once Tony's motions became less spastic and his face and body lost some tension, Steve spoke up.

"The night before the procedure, Erskine and I talked." He said. "He had a bottle of schnapps. Planned to give me some to drink, before he remembered alcohol before the procedure wasn't a good idea." Steve's mouth twisted. "He told me why he'd chosen me for the procedure. He told me about the Red Skull, and what had gone wrong. That the serum worked on what a person already was. His exact words were 'good becomes great. Bad becomes worse." Steve sighed. "He made me promise to stay a good man, not a perfect soldier. The next day, when everything happened ... he reminded me of the promise just before he died."

Tony looked over at him, and the two of them shared a long look, recognizing that they both had a common factor in their lives. A mission they'd been put on by people who had seen the good in them. Then Tony gave his head a shake.

"Yeah, ok, whatever. We are not *girls*, Rogers. We are not sharing the moments of our lives here. If you're going to stay down here, make yourself useful and help me get this fucking panel off."

Steve laughed and pulled his seat over to the workbench. "This part of the suit that Thor crunched?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. the arm gauntlet, which took the worst of it. Guy has a hell of a grip on him, to do this to the suit. It's not exactly made of tin." Tony said.

Steve peered at the panel that was apparently giving Tony so many problems, and spotted where it was all but fused to two bits of metal that connected it to the rest of the suit. "If I yank this off, the connections are going to come with it."

"That's fine. They have to be replaced anyway." Tony said.

Steve nodded, got a grip on the piece, and gave it a yank. It came off in his hand with a short squeal of distressed metal. Tony promptly stole the piece from his fingers and tossed it in a nearby bin.

"Finally! Now I can get the connections fixed and replaced and then deal with the wiring."

Steve wandered over to the remains of the suit and examined it curiously. He was surprised at the complexity of what the flashy exterior concealed.

"How the heck did you even come up with this?" He asked.

"A familiarity with flight systems and a fuckton of trial and error. Mostly error." Tony said, with a wince that indicated a painful memory. Given what the Iron Man suit was capable of, Steve had little doubt that whatever had gone wrong had ended up being painful.

About then, some ... thing ... on wheels came buzzing over and poked at him. It took Steve a minute to realize it was some sort of machine.

"Your machine is poking at me, Tony."

Tony glanced up, then laughed. "That's Dummy. He was the first AI I built, back when I was seventeen. He's just checking you out. I don't normally get a lot of visitors in here. Dummy, leave the man be."

Dummy whirred and clicked in a way that Steve was sure was some sort of communication, circled Steve one last time, then rolled away again.

"Sorry, but he's a bit ... special." Tony said. "His code's pretty limited."

"You built that when you were *seventeen*?" Steve finally sputtered.

"Yep." Tony said, popping the 'p'.

"That is ... " Steve shook his head, unable to articulate it. "Really keen." He finally settled on, though he winced, as he was aware of how ... dated ... such a phrasing probably sounded.

Things went quiet for a while. Steve ended up plopping himself down in one of the extra chairs and just watching as Tony put the suit back together again. It was such a contrast to Tony's usual style elsewhere.

Generally, Tony seemed incapable of keeping his mind focused on any one thing at a time, and jumped from subject to subject when he talked, with little rhyme or reason. Here, though, Steve was fairly sure that Tony had forgotten Steve was in the room, all his attention on the task before him.

Eventually Tony sat back with the air of a man who'd completed a task and done well. He wiped his hands on a rag, then turned. In the process he spotted Steve and jumped about a foot off his chair.

"JEEZE, Rogers, you're still here?"

Steve shrugged. "Nothing better to do until Ross shows up." He said.

Tony gave him a sideways look like he didn't quite believe it, then shrugged and turned his attention away. "All right, J. heat up the design program and let's get cracking."

Seconds later, the air was full of blue light that coalesced into the outline of the suit, only at about quarter-size. Steve did a double take in surprise. He'd seen all sorts of things since he'd woken up, but he'd had no idea they had technology that could project an image in the air.

And then Tony started poking the image, and it turned and expanded. Tony grabbed something and pulled it into his hand to examine it. Steve couldn't restrain a shocked gasp. It was ... he could ... ? How?

Tony heard him and glanced over, then grinned. "Oh, you haven't seen this before. You won't see it anywhere outside of the Tower. It's only Jarvis that can do this. It takes a lot of computing power, and most people use that sort of power for other things."

"But it's ... real? You can touch it?" Steve asked.

"Yes and no." Tony said, then waved him over. "C'mere. Here, hold your hand out, palm flat." Steve did so, and Tony put the piece he'd pulled out to examine on Steve's palm.

There was no weight at all. No real sense of the thing's edges and dimensions, but there was a faint electric tickle against his skin that told him it was there. "Oh, I see. So how do you ... "

"Manipulate it? Feel for the edges of the energy." Tony told him.

Steve did so, and after a few moments, managed to, somewhat clumsily, make it spin in place on his palm.

"The more you use the program, the easier it gets to manipulate things." Tony said.

"You get more sensitive to the buzz, right?" Steve guessed.

Tony nodded. "And you stop needing to feel around for the right spot. I've been doing this for years, which is why I can do things so easily. I can alter the design however I want and see how it goes with everything else immediately, instead of having to wait for production or take the time to make a mockup of the piece in question."

Steve grinned. "This is incredible, Tony."

Chapter Text

Bruce, Thor and Loki

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy and content.

He and Betty had cuddled and talked for hours. He'd told her about the places he'd been and the good he'd done. She told him about working at Cheyenne Mountain. And despite the fact that in both cases, they'd both been where they were for not-so-good reasons, they had deliberately not mentioned that part of it.

Eventually, hunger drove them off the couch to the well-appointed kitchen. Bruce had to stare, because the cabinets were stocked with teas, spices, and foodstuffs from the areas he'd been in most recently as well as more standard American fare.

"You know, Tony is a little scary sometimes." Bruce said after a few moments. "In a good way, but scary."

Betty smiled at him. "How about some curry?" She asked.

"Sounds good."

They moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, given they hadn't been around each other in a year. Bruce supposed there were just some things you didn't forget.

"So are you going to be helping with the cleanup?" Betty asked as they were setting the table.

Bruce shrugged. "Not directly, I don't think. I can do more good in the labs, or helping keep things moving here in the Tower." Working here would also keep him safer. He didn't trust Ross as far as he could throw him when not the other guy.

"So do you think he can be worked with?" Betty asked, a faint smile on her lips.

Bruce didn't mistake who she was talking about. Still he shrugged. "I'm really not sure. He recognizes you, and now Tony, and I don't think he'd ever attack either of you, and I can sort of aim him at appropriate targets, but beyond that?" He shrugged again. "I don't know. I just know I'm not going to start experimenting with it somewhere people can get hurt." He snorted. "Doubtlessly, Tony has something worked out, if I ever get the nerve up to try it."

Betty laughed. "He probably does." She agreed.

After they'd eaten, the two of them headed for the labs finally. Bruce could only stare helplessly for several long moments. "Definitely Candyland." He said after a long moment.

The lab, like Bruce's floor, had been built with the presence of the Hulk in mind as much as possible. Most of the bigger machinery was tucked into alcoves and recesses. The rest of it was against the walls or on counters that were against the walls, which reduced the chances of destruction. And every last bit of it was brand new top-of-the-line equipment that Bruce had drooled over before the accident. Things that were largely beyond the budget of most scientists unless they had a seriously wealthy backer. Who wasn't the government or the military. Because the government and the military had a tendency towards providing only the minimum of equipment, and never top of the line unless you were researching something they were VERY interested in.

He grinned at Betty, who grinned back, and they soon lost themselves in putting the various equipment through its paces.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Thor had, along with the other Avengers save Bruce and Tony, headed back out into the city to render assistance where he could. Mjolnir being of but limited use for such endeavors, he had left it behind, safely tucked in his rooms.

Today, after the events in Asgard, Thor chose to work in Loki's general vicinity, the better to watch him. Not for any nefarious purpose, but out of concern for Loki's state of mind. His brother had suffered much in the last year, and Thor would not see him slip into madness or despair if it could be avoided.

In the watching, Thor made two discoveries. One, that his brother's magics were far more complex than he had known or suspected. He had never seen Loki use his magics to levitate anything, for instance, yet he saw Loki do so multiple times over the course of the day, among other works.

The second thing Thor discovered made his blood burn. Loki seemed to take an inordinate pleasure in the awe and praise heaped upon him by the Midgardians with whom he worked. When Thor tried to remember the last time he'd seen such an honestly pleased look on Loki's face, he was horrified to realize that he had not seen such since they were practically infants. It hurt to think on just how much Loki must needs have suffered under the lash of the Allfather's disapproval. For that disapproval had doubtless given all with whom Loki interacted leave to treat him ill. After all, the Allfather knew what he was about, did he not, as King of Asgard?

Unfortunately, Thor was much adrift in these waters. His gifts lay not in the healing of hearts and minds, but in battle. A stout blow with his fist or Mjolnir would solve nothing here. But then Thor thought of Erik, and Darcy, and Jane. They had rendered him assistance on his first sojourn to this world. Mayhap they could assist him with this. It was worth seeking their advice in any case.

That evening, he sought the three of them out. He found them in one of the labs with the assistance of Jarvis. he did not understand Jarvis. It was neither man, nor beast, nor quite machine. Fortunately, Erik and Jane looked to be stopping for the day under Darcy's watchful eye. Jane smiled happily at him when she spotted him, and Thor wrapped her in a hug, then kissed her cheek.

Her forwardness, just before he had left Midgard that first time, had startled him. Maidens in Asgard would never think to do such a thing. Asgardian maids were demure and chaste, desiring to be wooed and won. Even Lady Sif, who had challenged many notions of proper Asgardian female behavior, had been so the few times matters of the heart had come up.

Thankfully, Thor had always been a bit more tolerant of ... unusual behavior, thanks to the Lady Sif, who would have beaten him badly, did he have the temerity to correct her and demand 'proper' behavior on her part. That said, Thor rather liked the more open and honest way Midgardians of both sexes showed their affections. There was something to be said for being able to openly show that someone held your favor.

"Jane, Your pursuits have gone well?" He asked. He had no idea what, exactly, she'd been working on this day, and even if he had, his knowledge of Midgardian 'science' was all but nonexistent, so a general question such as that was the best he could manage.

Jane grinned up at him. "We mostly had fun today." She admitted. "We've never gotten a chance to use some of the equipment in here, so we mostly came up with excuses to do just that."

Thor smiled at her. "I am pleased your day was so pleasant." He said. "Though I must admit to seeking you out with purpose."

His face must have given something of his thoughts away, because Jane sobered. "What's wrong?"

"I would ask your advice." Thor said. "In regards to my brother. I have done him ill, and things between us are ... " Thor sighed. "Rightfully strained. But I know not how to fix things between us. Or help him. He has been dealt terrible blows of late, and unless I much miss my guess, his heart and mind will be calling an account of them ere long."

It was Darcy that spoke up. "Dude. You want to help your brother? The best thing you can do for him is just shut up and listen. Let him do the talking. Don't push him to talk about what happened ... he will when he's ready. Don't try to justify things that happened that bug him. Don't defend what other people said or did." Darcy pointed at him. "And if you really want to help heal the strain between you, show a little interest in his skills. Give him credit for the times he saved your ass one way or another, which I'm sure there has to be at least one case of that."

Thor looked abashed. "Many more than one." He admitted.

Darcy nodded. "Tell him that. Even if it's way the hell after the fact, he'll appreciate it."

"I know you said you told him you don't care about the fact he's Jotun, but reiterating that wouldn't hurt either." Jane said. "I don't know if he's hiding what he really looks like or not?"

"There must be some sort of spell at work, aye. Though that, I will not ask of him. Jotuns can freeze even Aesir limbs with but a touch of their skin. I would not ask him to walk in his Jotun skin when he would must needs fear harming all around him." Thor said.

"Ok, that's a good point." Jane said. "So scratch that idea. But Darcy's right about the rest. Let him talk about things in his own time, and make sure you give him credit where it's due, and keep letting him know you don't care he's Jotun. He's probably going to need to hear that a lot for a while."

Thor kissed Jane's forehead. "I thank you for your counsel, ladies." He told them. "Now, mayhap we should go and find sustenance? If you have been here all day ... ?"

Darcy laughed. "I made sure they got lunch, but yeah, dinner would be good. C'mon, big guy, let's go get something to eat."

They all headed for the elevator. Once within, Thor turned to Erik.

Erik anticipated what Thor intended to say. "I am in agreement with Barton." He said. "I am not overly happy with your brother right now, but I realize he wasn't doing things of his own free will. Still, I don't trust my judgment where he is concerned at the moment."

Thor nodded acceptance of that.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Loki had been aware of the weight of Thor's gaze all day. He could even guess as to the reason why Thor watched him so. Loki still couldn't quite decide whether to be warmed by Thor's concern or thoroughly annoyed.

After a day of labor, Loki hungered for more intellectual pursuits. To that end, he decided to seek out Stark and see if the man would be amenable to a discussion, if nothing else. Stark certainly came the closest to having intelligence enough to keep up with him, and probably even surpassed Loki in certain areas.

"Jarvis." He said when Thor had departed the elevator. "I would speak with your master, if he is available."

There was a momentary pause, probably Jarvis consulting with Stark, before the computer being responded. "Of course, Mr. Friggasson. Sir is in his main lab at the moment." And the elevator descended.

Once the doors opened again, Jarvis spoke a second time. "The door at the end of the corridor, Mr. Friggasson."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Loki said, and headed for the indicated door.

He walked in, and paused for a moment in stunned surprise. Stark was not alone in the room. Rogers was here as well, and the two men seemed to be in the depths of a spirited debate of some sort, both of them fussing with some sort of ... construct ... in the air that looked to be made of light, and gave the form of Stark's suit.

"I still say the slight flat place here and the ridges on the boot top will be enough, Tony." Rogers said, indicating the light construct in two places. He scowled when his touch made the construct rotate.

Stark was clearly used to that happening, because he reached to stop the spin almost automatically. "Enough for an emergency lift for you and Loki maybe. You both have the grip strength to hang on. Everyone else, not so much. We need something a bit more involved to allow them to hang on comfortably. And speaking of, hello Reindeer Games."

Loki headed over, eyes on the construct. "What is this?" Then he glanced around. "And how is it done?"

Stark grinned at him. "This is a holographic display." He said. "And a design program, so I can make alterations to my suits and build new ones easily. As for how it's done, that's a bit more complicated. There are light emitters." He pointed up at the ceiling. "All over up there, so that the holograms can be moved anywhere in the room. The design program has the dimensions of everything, and tells the light emitters what they need to be showing."

Loki was intrigued. "And the purpose of your debate?"

"Trying to figure out a way to make it easy for the non-fliers on the team to hitch a ride on the suit, but not make it easy for bad guys to get a hold of me." Stark said.

"So some subtle change to the suit that the team would know is there, but is not immediately visible to a stranger." Loki said.

Stark grinned. "I *like* you. Yeah, that's the gist. And making sure the team *stays* on. 'cause not everyone has the strength to hang on against the sorts of speeds I can and may have to go in this thing while carrying them, or the maneuvers that I might have to pull."

Loki considered that for several moments. "You have a number of things recessed in the suit." He said, indicating the hologram. "Those of us who cannot fly under our own power all have belts of some sort or another that we wear on our armor."

Stark immediately picked up where he was going with that thought. "Have you guys put a special carabineer on your belts, reinforce the belts, and put a recessed latch somewhere around the waist of the suit. I like it. And it wouldn't be a huge, problematic change to the suits, either." Stark grinned at him. "All right. Let's see. Ok, Jarvis, thicken the waist just a bit here, and ... yeah, that's perfect."

Loki watched in fascination as the hologram shifted and changed, adding a small, hidden panel and what was apparently a latch.

"The only other thing is to increase the power of the jets, but how much is going to have to wait for test runs with the existing jets." Stark looked between Rogers and himself. "How much do you weigh, Loki?"

That stymied Loki somewhat. "I am unsure how much I weigh in your measures." He admitted.

"Huh, that's easy enough to fix. Jarvis?" Stark said.

"Mr. Friggasson weighs three hundred twenty two pounds and five ounces." Jarvis supplied.

Stark's eyebrows went up. "I would not have guessed that." He admitted. "You look like you weight maybe half that. I guess you've got denser bones and muscles than humans. Well, Rogers here only weighs two hundred and a bit, so you get to be the one to stress test the jets, if you're up for it later. I'd have to bring the Mark VII down here first, which I can do in the morning."

"I find myself quite intrigued." Loki admitted. "So I shall put myself at your disposal."

Chapter Text

Phil and Remy

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Phil's section takes place the evening of the day the Avengers left for Asgard. Remy's takes place the morning after the Avengers returned to Earth.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Phil had had a very, very busy two days while the Avengers were off in Asgard. He'd been overseeing the SHIELD agents that had been trying to sweep the war zone clear of alien tech. This ... had not been easy, given just how many of the small fliers had come through the portal. To say nothing of the foot soldiers. This task had been complicated by needing to figure out what to do with the dead Chitauri. And just how to deal with the positively enormous whale-like creatures that had made it through the portal.

The most obvious and easiest disposal method that had been suggested was cremation, and Phil saw no problem with doing that for the dead Chitauri, minus one sample each of the drivers, shooters, and foot soldiers, so their science and defense divisions could, one hoped, figure out a more effective means to defeat the Chitauri.

The whales, though ... those were another problem entirely. There wasn't anything on the planet that was designed to lift and haul that much weight, and the scientists had had spasms about the things being cut up in order to facilitate their removal. Phil had settled that by giving the scientists until the bulk of the rest of the debris had been cleared to study the whales on site. Or until the things started to reek of decomp, whichever happened first.

That still didn't settle how to deal with the remains once the geeks were done with them, but Phil supposed that if they were cut up small enough, cremation would work just as well for them as for the Chitauri. It'd just take a bit longer to cremate a whole whale.

Much to the pleasure of the geeks, not all of the fliers had exploded into shrapnel. Seven of the rear sleds had been found relatively intact, and a single drive section that must have been pretty close to the ground when it crashed, to not explode. The geeks had their choice when it came to the hand-held weapons, of course.

A little past midday that first day, Phil had received a call from Pepper, warning him that Ross was in the area and trying to get his hands on Bruce. She also told him they needed to talk, later that evening, about something important. Less than five minutes after that, he got a call from Fury, who looked ... displeased, to put it mildly. It didn't take much for Phil to guess the two calls had something to do with each other, and he wondered what on Earth Pepper had said to Fury that had gotten him that wound up.

It was nearly midnight before Phil managed to tear himself away from the frenetic activity on the streets and at SHIELD's NYC HQ. He was just grateful he didn't have to oversee the repairs to the Helicarrier on top of everything else. When he got back to the Tower, he slumped, briefly, against the side of the elevator before pulling himself upright again.

"Jarvis, is Miss Potts still awake and available?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson. She has not yet left her office." Jarvis told him.

Phil mentally winced. And he thought he had it bad. "That floor, please. She said she wanted to talk to me."

Soon enough, he was on the floor with Pepper's office, and made his way there. It was late enough that she had, evidently, dismissed her secretary. Or the secretary had not come in, one of the two. He knocked on the door to warn her, then poked his head in.

"Phil! Come in." Pepper said, her voice warmly welcoming as always.

Phil smiled at her and headed for one of the chairs in front of her desk. Despite her very long day, Pepper looked as though she'd only just gotten into the office, her dress somehow managing to be fresh and crisp and her hair and makeup both remained undamaged.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something important?" Phil asked. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Director Fury called me about five minutes after you did, almost literally frothing at the mouth?"

Pepper smiled. "It probably did." She admitted. "You should read this." She handed him a Starkpad with a file on it.

Phil took the file and read it, his eyebrows heading for his hairline. This was ... entirely unexpected. And extremely, extremely good news for himself, Clint and Natasha.

"I had no idea." He said finally. "I wish I had, though."

"I didn't think you did, Phil, but can I ask why?"

"Because of Clint and Natasha." Phil said. "We've been looking for an opportunity to win clear of SHIELD without having to spend our lives on the run for years. Since very shortly after Natasha joined us."

"May I ask why?"

"A number of things. When I joined SHIELD, I thought I would be ... well, doing good things." Phil admitted. "It didn't take me long to realize that things in the agency were ... not right. But by then, it was too late. I wasn't sure I'd be able to disappear and not be pursued. So I stayed, and tried to mitigate as much of the damage as I could."

Pepper nodded.

"Then about eight years ago, Clint was ... recruited. In lieu of being eliminated entirely. I guess Fury didn't want to waste such a good sniper, and hoped Clint could be broken to harness." Phil made a moue of distaste. "He was very, very wrong. It would have been not unlike attempting to break Mr. Stark to harness."

Pepper snorted. "In other words, it was never going to happen, and entirely likely that Clint would have died rather than break."

"Precisely." Phil said. "Clint put three handlers into the infirmary in the space of four months. Fury finally dumped him on my doorstep, and told me, in front of Clint, to either bring him to heel or eliminate the problem."

Pepper looked properly horrified. "Oh my goodness. Well, obviously, you didn't 'break' him. I've seen how he acts with you, if only briefly, and that is not someone who is broken."

Phil smiled. "No, I didn't break him. Didn't even try. It took almost a year, but I managed to get him to trust me. Of course, shortly after that is when we got put on Natasha's trail, with orders to eliminate her. Clint and I both were ... wary ... of the fact anyone knew where she was at all. Up to then, she'd been a ghost. We knew she existed, and we could identify her kills after the fact, but we never knew where she was or where she was headed. When we caught up with her, Clint refused to take the shot. He was convinced she wanted out, and wanted to try to bring her in, because SHIELD might not have been the best place, but it was better than dead."

"I'll bet that caused problems." Pepper said.

Phil laughed. "You have no idea. Of course, most of it was ... not direct and blatantly linked to that incident, because everyone in SHIELD was terrified of Natasha, and she made it quite clear that we were operating under her ... beneficence. Given her reputation, not even Fury wanted to challenge her, back then."

Pepper laughed. "I just bet."

"But eventually, Fury started trying to muck with us again. That's why Natasha was in Russia when this whole mess started, while Clint and I were here in the States. Fury ... made me choose. Forced the issue despite me arguing with him about it. Clint's always been more vulnerable, so I decided to stay here with him to protect him." Phil scowled, remembering how little good that had done.

Pepper correctly divined the cause of that scowl, because she gave him a gentle smile. "It all worked out, Phil. You can't blame yourself for things that are beyond your control."

Phil sighed. "I suppose you're right." He said. "I still don't have to like it." Then he gave himself a mental shake. "So I'm presuming you showed me this to ascertain where myself, Clint, and Natasha's loyalties lay?"

Pepper nodded. "Yes."

"Not with SHIELD." Phil summed up. "It's mostly with ourselves, though Clint and Natasha both trust my judgment when it comes to trusting outsiders and follow my lead."

"Fair enough." Pepper said. "I can't ask for more than this early. Just one last question, and I'm only asking it because I fully expect Tony to ask it when I tell him, so I might as well beat him to the punch. Do you want to be the new Director of SHIELD?"

Phil grimaced. "Hell no. I have enough to do as it is. And since I know Tony fairly well at this point, tell him I'll taze him if he tries to make me director anyway."

Pepper laughed. "I'll do that." Her desk pinged, and something flashed onto the mirrored surface that Phil couldn't read upside down. Pepper smiled at it. "Ahhh, that's the last of it for today. I can shut down now, finally, and get some sleep. Hopefully Tony and the others will be back tomorrow."

Phil got to his feet. "I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten since lunch."

Pepper gave a low laugh. "Neither have I. It's been an insane day. Jarvis? Are the cooks still up?"

"They are indeed, Miss Potts. Shall I have them send something up?" Jarvis said.

"Oh, please. Anything is fine, since I know they've probably been cooking for the relief crews." Pepper said.

"Same for me, Jarvis." Phil said.

After a pleasant dinner with Miss Potts in the penthouse suite, Phil finally made his way to 'his' floor, since Pepper had told him Tony had built him one in the Tower. Phil got one good look at his rooms and laughed, thoroughly amused by the color theme and the overhead catwalks. He'd have to fetch his things from his SHIELD quarters and his small apartment later.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Remy was going to miss the Tower, he thought as he clambered aboard the X-Jet with the others. Despite the fact he ached everywhere from three days of near-constant activity, he'd had fun talking to the Avengers the day of the attack and last night. He was looking forward to spending more time with them over the next few weeks.

But then, he'd always liked Tony and Pepper, since he'd been introduced to them only a couple days after he'd first arrived at the mansion. Tony had shown up to install something, Remy still had no idea what, because it wasn't like there was a dearth of possibilities in the mansion, and the X-Men hadn't been in a big hurry to tell him all their secrets right then. Still weren't, actually.

Of course, the fact he was a thief had come up. Like the X-Men felt they had to warn Tony to guard his silver or something. Tony had given him a look, then asked if he was any good. Of course, Remy had had to brag a bit about his abilities. Not because he thought he was the best, but more because he figured it would piss everyone off. Tony had laughed and told him that if he could manage to break into his Malibu mansion, he'd give Remy a hundred thousand dollars and let him keep something of his choice from the mansion.

Remy was bright enough to smell a rat, so he didn't jump at the opportunity instantly. He would forever be glad he hadn't, because he would have gotten his ass handed to him by Jarvis. Remy was a better than average hacker when it came to security systems and your average computer, but Jarvis was *anything* but either of those.

He'd studied the mansion for nearly six months before he decided he was as ready as he could be to try the place. He'd gotten no end of shit from the X-Men when his trip to California had coincided with Magneto deciding to play god. To say they'd been less than pleased with him for taking off to go *steal* from someone was to vastly understate the case.

Tony, on the other hand, had thanked him for finding the weak spots in the mansion's defenses, and Remy treasured the extremely expensive watch he'd chosen for his prize. He could have taken some piece of art or something, but he really didn't have anywhere to put such things. The watch had been more practical, and nearly as expensive. Tony had even offered him a job as a consultant.

Remy had been tempted to take the offer more than once since. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful to the X-Men for the roof over his head and the food in his belly. They'd taken him in at a particularly bad place in his life, and given him a chance to get his feet under him. That said, he was as poor a fit with the group as Logan was.

The X-Men held to a certain code of morals. And that ... wasn't exactly wrong of them, Remy was willing to admit. The problem was, they tended to get a bit self-righteous with people who had a different set of morals. They either didn't understand or didn't care that both he and Logan hadn't exactly been allowed the opportunity to develop the sorts of morals the X-Men espoused. Logan hadn't had any proof of education, no ID, nothing to allow him to get a 'legitimate' job. Remy had been in nearly as bad a place, as he'd spent more than half his life on the streets, prior to the X-Men taking him in.

Thanks to Jean-Luc LeBeau, Remy at least had adoption papers and ID, but he'd been picked up off the streets at ten, then had to run from New Orleans at fifteen, when his powers manifested and he blew a (thankfully empty) theater to hell and gone, and nearly himself with it, on accident. With only five years of school under his belt, he hadn't exactly been in a position to get a normal job. To make matters worse, his powers had been unpredictable as hell for nearly two years before he'd gotten some sort of control of them. Which meant he'd had to bolt from town to town as he left messes in his wake from accidental explosions. He'd gone right back to stealing, which he'd picked up as a street rat in order to fill his belly, and never looked back.

Tony, on the other hand, really didn't seem to give a shit. Actually, if anything, he thoroughly approved of Remy's rather unorthodox skills, and recognized the sort of intelligence it implied. Remy might not have the paperwork to prove it, but he was far from stupid. Even as a street kid, he'd taught himself to read and do basic math. He'd gone even further after having to leave New Orleans behind. And while it might not impress most people, being a good thief required a certain level of intelligence. Not only to know how to deal with security systems so you didn't get caught in the act, but to know what was worth stealing and what wasn't. To be able to recognize fakes from the real thing.

Ahh well. Unless he missed his guess, Logan was going to be spending a lot of time in the city, talking to Steve Rogers. And if that wasn't a trip and a half, Remy didn't know what was. Remy figured he could tag along and hang out at the same time. Maybe get to know that Romanov gal. He always had liked playing with fire, and the Black Widow was *definitely* dangerous.

Chapter Text

Darcy and Clint

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

After she'd managed to chase Erik and Jane out of their lab (with Thor's help), Darcy stopped briefly to get herself something to eat and relax. And contemplate the last few days.

Last year, she'd made a point of reading the Eddas. It hadn't exactly been her cuppa, but in the face of Thor being real, she'd figured any information was better than none at all. She'd come away from that reading with the very, very firm belief that Odin was a rat bastard of the first order, and that it was no small wonder Loki had gone over the deep edge.

She'd also hoped, with everything in her, that most of it hadn't happened. She was sure as could be that Thor never would have been party to some of the shit it was claimed he did to Loki, given how much he cared about Loki, but that didn't mean that someone else hadn't been the one to do it. The worst part was, she was probably never going to know if any of it was the truth, because like *hell* was she asking. Because really, there was just no way to ask 'did you really give birth to a horse?' and *not* mortally offend the person, even if it was true. And really, that was, if anything, the least fucked up thing on the list.

So really, she'd been primed to give Odin a piece of her mind, even before she'd met him and he'd been acting all superior and self-righteous and smarmy. Gah. Definitely a rat bastard. What Frigga saw in him, she'd never know. Maybe she hadn't had a choice? It would make sense that it had been some sort of arranged marriage, given Odin's status and the fact women seemed to be just shy of second class citizens in Asgard.

At least Thor realized now that things had been a little fucked up where Loki was concerned, and was determined to at least try to make things right. She wished him luck, because he was right. Loki had been through some heavy shit, and there was *going* to be a meltdown, sooner rather than later. At least Loki would be here for it, and not in Asgard, where everyone would probably not only ignore his distress, but blame him for everything.

Darcy gave her head a shake. "Jarvis, what time is it?" She asked.

"It is two am, Miss Lewis." Jarvis told her.

Darcy scowled. "And how many of the geek squad are still in their lairs?" She wanted to know.

"Sir, Captain Rogers and Mr. Friggasson are all in Sir's main lab. Doctor Banner and Doctor Ross are in their lab, but Doctor Ross has begun shutting down for the day, and is ensuring Doctor Banner joins her."

"Good on her. I'll go roust the boys out of Stark's lab, though what Rogers is doing down there, I don't know."

"I believe Captain Rogers went down to Sir's lab in order to get to know Sir better. He was provided with ... not precisely erroneous information, but certainly biased, and was endeavoring to find out the truth." Jarvis told her. "Sir has spent most of the day teaching Captain Rogers how to work the holographic interface Sir uses when designing, and debating options for upgrades to a new suit with him. Mr. Friggasson arrived a few hours ago and joined in the debate."

"In other words, they're going to need prying out of there or they'll never leave, because they're having way the hell too much fun." Darcy said.

"That would be a correct and succinct summation of the situation." Jarvis agreed.

Darcy snorted in amusement. "What is it with geeks and playing with new toys?" She wondered aloud, then headed for the elevator.

"The door straight ahead, Miss Lewis." Jarvis told her.

Darcy walked in, and had to laugh. Stark had evidently started teaching both Rogers and Loki how to work the design program, because they were both mucking about with what looked like holographic versions of Stark's suits. Stark himself was working on a third suit, while also keeping an eye on the other two.

"What on earth are you three up to in here?" She asked.

"Sparky? How'd you get down here?" Stark wanted to know. Darcy blinked at the nickname, but decided it was ... fitting.

"Looking for you three. Do you realize what time it is?" She asked.

Stark shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Busy doing science here!" He flapped a hand at her, as if trying to dismiss her.

Which, of course, she completely ignored. "Yeah, that's what I thought. It's two am. You guys can come back to this in the morning. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's a spectacularly bad idea to engineer on no sleep? Explosions happen that way." Darcy said.

Rogers seemed willing enough to call it a night. "Two in the morning? Gosh. I had no idea so much time had passed." He glanced up. "Thanks, Jarvis. You can shut this down, now."

"Indeed, Captain Rogers." Jarvis said, and the hologram Rogers had been playing with faded out.

One down, two to go. "Ok, you two. Hit Save, and shut her down for the night, and go get some sleep. You're going to thank me later." She started nudging at Stark, poking him in the shoulder and arm to annoy him into moving. Stark scowled at her for a moment, then huffed.

"I suppose." He pouted. "Jarvis, shut it down. C'mon, Reindeer Games, we can pick this back up in a few hours. I don't think challenging her is the best idea."

That actually made Loki laugh and leave the station he'd been working at. "Indeed. If we do not do as she bids, she may wield her tazer against us."

"I still wish she could have tazed Odin." Tony said, like she wasn't standing right there. Darcy laughed.

"That makes two of us, Stark. Now get a move on. You can play more after you've slept. At least four hours! And a decent breakfast."

"Slave driver." Stark whined, even as he headed into the elevator with the others.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Clint could not believe Stark. He'd spent over an hour poking into every nook and cranny of the floor ... *entire floor* that was his apartment. Stark had spared no expense. Clint had a flatscreen TV bigger than he was, a top-of-the-line stereo system, and a tub that qualified as a pool, among other amenities. The bed alone was worth the price of admission.

The catwalk and platforms were accessible via a number of spots where the walls sported convenient nobs to allow for climbing. And Clint swiftly discovered that the catwalks and platforms allowed for an unobstructed view of the entire apartment. Clint could even get from room to room on the catwalks without having to get down ... there were holes through the bedroom and bathroom walls where he could crawl through on the catwalks.

After a thorough, and delighted perusal of the room he'd been given, Clint had gone back out into the city to help with the cleanup and recovery. But after two days without being able to shoot something ... and wanting very, very badly to shoot Odin, Clint decided he would check out Tony's special shooting range. The only reason he hadn't checked it out when they'd got back had been because he knew himself well enough to know that if it was any kind of awesome, Phil would need some high explosives to get him back out of there. And given that the place had been built by Tony Stark, Clint was betting on it being awesome. He grabbed his bow and quiver, and headed off.

His first clue that he'd completely underestimated Tony came when he got off the elevator in the subbasement and was faced with a seriously heavy-duty steel door. The sort designed to survive blasts at close range. There was a computerized door lock beside it, clear indication that Jarvis was in charge of making sure no one walked in unexpectedly, and that no one that had no business being in there got in there.

The door swung open easily when he approached, and Clint stepped inside, only to stop and stare. The place was as unlike a shooting range as it was possible to get. The typical shotgun range was about two tenths of a mile long, give or take a bit. This? Somehow, and like hell Clint could figure out how Tony managed it, but this looked to be double that, nearly half a mile long. It was also about fifty feet tall and over a hundred feet wide.

But that wasn't the end of it. Because there were platforms and perches of varying sizes *everywhere*. From literally only an inch off the floor to so close to the ceiling he'd have to lie flat on his stomach to fit. And they were made of or covered in various surfaces, from smooth metal, to wood, to gravel and even carpeting. There were also ropes, bars, catwalks and other things scattered all over the place, to allow him to get from one perch to another via a number of the means he usually used to do so in the field, as well as provide obstacles for him to shoot around. The only thing there wasn't, was targets.

"Jarvis, I'm assuming you have access in here." Clint said aloud. "So ... where are the targets?"

"Sir has prepared a number of different kinds of targets for you, Agent Barton. You will find them to your right." Jarvis told him, and a panel that had, until that moment, looked like just another bit of wall popped forward and slid aside.

Inside the closet, or whatever, was a veritable army of targeting dummies. Some of them looked like the sort you just leaned against a wall and shot at, but most of them had electronic components that made Clint suspect that either they had some sort of on-board computer that would move them in pre-programmed ways, or Jarvis could control them. Clint grinned toothily. That ... could prove to be a heck of a challenge. But in a rack near the door was a whole bunch of things that Clint got one good look at and started laughing uncontrollably.

Because they looked remarkably like the little floating ball drone that Luke faced off against briefly in the first Star Wars movie. When Clint managed to calm down enough to talk, he shook his head. "Jarvis, tell Tony he has watched way the hell too many movies." He said. "And then tell me if those things can shoot back."

"I will do so." Jarvis said, sounding distinctly amused. "And they do indeed shoot back, though their shots are not strong enough to do more than sting."

"Just do me one favor, Jarvis." Clint said. "And warn me if Stark has or is about to manage building a functional lightsaber."

"I will do so. Miss Potts has expressed a similar desire to be forewarned in such an event, and I must admit it would seem prudent." Jarvis told him. "Would you like to put the range through its paces?"

"Hell yes, Jarvis." Clint said, and hurried out of the closet to a nearby perch. "Bring it on."

Two hours later, he was sweaty, his entire body was quivering from the effort of shooting and swinging and flinging himself all over the room, and he was riding the sort of adrenaline high he only very rarely managed to get. He'd blown through his quiver of arrows so many times he'd lost count, and he *loved* it. This was better than *sex*.

Clint lay on the last platform he'd used, limp and unmoving for a few moments, catching his breath. "Ok, Jarvis. Put it away. I'll be back down here tomorrow, probably." Like he could stay away from this? Hah. He peeled himself off the platform and made his way out of the range.

He stopped on his floor long enough to take a shower and change clothes, then grabbed a protein bar to tide him over until lunch. "Who all's in the Tower today, Jarvis?" He asked.

"Everyone has elected to take the day off from rescue work, Agent Barton. Sir and Mr. Friggasson are in Sir's main lab. Doctors Banner and Ross are in their lab, and Doctors Foster, Selvig, Thor and Miss Lewis are in theirs. Miss Potts is in her office and Agents Coulson and Romanov are on the fourth floor."

"Ohhh, excellent." Clint said, and headed for the elevator. "Fourth floor, please."

"Of course, Agent Barton."

It didn't take him long to spot Phil and Nat. They were at the center of a conspicuously clear area in what was otherwise a sea of semi-organized chaos. Clint suppressed a laugh and headed over. Nat caught sight of him first, and gave him a small smile.

"Well, you have the look of someone who just had way too much fun." She noted.

"Shooting range." Clint said.

That made even her eyebrows rise. "That good?" Phil asked.

"Better. You two have to check it out sometime. I could spend all day down there."

Phil gave him a distinctly amused look. "Try it and I'll have Jarvis lock you out. Living in a shooting range is not healthy."

Clint mock-pouted. "You never let me have any fun." He accused.

"That is perhaps because your idea of fun does not tally with everyone else's." Phil said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But I am pleased you like it so much."

Clint grinned. "It's a sniper's paradise in there. And someone." Here he gave Phil a significant look. "Must have told him about my habits, because it's literally perfect for me." Phil managed to pretend innocence thanks to his ability to keep a straight face, but Clint knew better.

"Well, we were about to head up for some lunch. Care to join us?" Phil asked.

"Sounds like a plan."

The three of them piled into the elevator. "My floor, if you please, Jarvis." Phil said.

Clint snickered. "I love the color theme, sir." He said.

Phil gave him the sort of serene look that actually boded ill for the person it was bestowed on. "I'm sure you do, Agent Barton."

They headed into Phil's kitchen and began preparing themselves a lunch, moving around each other with unconscious ease, each of them automatically taking up certain chores and pulling out ingredients and spices without any need for discussion.

Once lunch was ready, they piled their plates.

"Are we agreed, then?" Phil asked.

Neither Clint nor Natasha mistook what he was asking. SHIELD was no longer a factor, for which Clint would be eternally grateful. That still left them with a choice. They could stay with the Avengers, or go their own way. Clint had little doubt that if that was there decision, Tony would let them go without any of the problems they would have incurred trying to walk away from SHIELD.

Not that it was much of a choice between the two. Because even if you ignored any other factor, saving the world was sort of a hard gig to match. Anything else would be a heck of a comedown, at this point. That they had co-workers they could at least tolerate, and in may cases actively like, was just icing on the cake.

"Yep." Clint said. Natasha nodded her agreement. "Besides, this thing with Thanos ain't over, I'm betting."

"You're not the only one thinking that." Phil agreed. "We will need all the firepower we can get our hands on to win that particular fight."

"No shit. Good thing Tony's in good with the X-Men. That'll help a lot." Clint said.

"Agreed." Phil said. "Though we should perhaps look at trying to network with other hero types. See if any of them are amenable to working for a common cause."

Chapter Text

Natasha and Logan

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. //Telepathy//

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Natasha could get used to seeing Clint so thoroughly loose and happy. He looked very much like a child that just got to raid the toy store. It was a good look on him.

After lunch, Natasha decided to check out the Avengers' gym. Stark had mentioned something about gymnastic equipment, and it had been a long time since she'd been able to avail herself of such things. Besides, Clint wasn't the only one who'd been getting antsy after two days of doing nothing, despite very much wanting to do something.

Frankly, if Darcy hadn't tazed that guard and started bitching Odin out, Natasha would have been going on the attack a few seconds later. Which reminded her. Natasha changed her plans for the afternoon mid-stride.

"Jarvis, main lab level please."

"Of course, Agent Romanov." Jarvis said.

Natasha ignored the door straight ahead and turned to the one to the right, where Foster's lab was at. The three main labs for the three groups of geeks were all on the same floor, though how Stark had managed that, and insulated things enough so that the other two labs weren't subjected to his eardrum-bursting levels of music, she wasn't quite sure. She poked her head in the door.

"Lewis!"

Darcy turned from where she'd been idly watching the geeks play with their toys and talking to Thor. "Yeah?" She said, and came over.

"You've got some fire in you." Natasha told her. "You ever take any self-defense classes?"

Darcy nodded. "A few." She said. "I generally prefer my tazer though ... doesn't give 'em the chance to get in grabbing range."

Natasha smiled slightly. "It does at that." She agreed. "Want to learn a few moves?"

Darcy gave her a wide-eyed look. "Dude, are you offering to teach me your super spy ninja moves?"

Natasha had to work not to laugh at Darcy's rather eager (and fairly accurate) summation. "Yes."

Darcy squeaked and bounced. "Heck yes! Definitely!"

Natasha nodded. "Go get changed and meet me on the gym floor." She said.

Darcy sped out of the lab and joined her in the elevator, splitting off at her floor to change. Natasha went on and headed for the gym, making sure the sparring mats were clear of obstructions. Darcy bounced into the room, looking eager. Natasha eyed her outfit.

"That the best bra you've got?" Natasha asked.

Darcy nodded. "Yeah."

Natasha snorted. "I'll show you where to shop for a better one. I get mine there." She knew the pain of being fairly well-endowed and trying to pull off gymnastic moves. You needed a damn good bra or you'd end up being very, very sorry later. Not the most glamorous aspect of learning to fight, but it had to be taken care of.

"Dude, I will thank you forever. I hate how much I wobble even in most sports bras." Darcy said.

Natasha nodded. "All right. Get warmed up, and I'll see what you already know. We can go from there."

Darcy proved to have a fairly average level of flexibility, and a slightly above average knowledge of self defense moves. She also had a much higher than usual ability to make shit up as she went, and readily made use of unconventional items to defend herself with. That bent towards pragmatism would serve her well, as many people tended to get stuck in the formalized, accepted defense strategies and couldn't adapt when the shit inevitably hit the fan. Darcy would never reach Natasha's level, of course, but there was plenty of room for improvement.

"All right. With some work and dedication, you will be pretty formidable." Natasha said. "You've certainly got the will to go on the offensive." Natasha favored Darcy with a small smile.

"Dude had it coming." Darcy said.

"Yes, he did." Natasha agreed. "Now, let's get down to work."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Rogue was waiting right outside the door to the jet bay when it opened. Logan huffed a laugh and hugged her. "Take it you missed me?"

"More like I wasn't invited to the party the others decided to throw while you guys were away." Rogue said.

For half a second, Logan thought she was serious, but a closer look at her face told him she was yanking Cyke's chain. He grinned down at her and ruffled her hair.

"Logan." Came Jean's worried rebuking whisper.

Logan completely ignored her, as he always did when it came to this. He was beginning to suspect that Jean was the reason Cyke was so uptight, if she got her panties in a wad over powers that weren't under perfect control. Though that just raised the question of why Cyke was with her. Guess love made a man stupid.

"C'mon, kiddo. I'll tell you about everything that happened while we were gone."

Rogue grinned at that, and tagged along behind him as they headed upstairs. They hadn't gone more than about fifteen feet when John slouched around the corner.

"Pyro." Logan greeted the kid.

He'd noticed John mostly because he tagged along behind Bobby a lot, and Bobby had to be surgically removed from Rogue most days. Hadn't taken much to see the kid was angry as hell at the world and needed an outlet for it. He'd clearly not been getting it from the other adults in the mansion. Logan hadn't had a problem dealing with him.

"C'mon, let's head out by the lake." He said, and led the way. They ended up collecting Bobby as they went. Logan snorted in amusement at that. Kid really seemed taken with Rogue. And not fussed with the whole skin thing, which given he was a teenage boy was something of a miracle. Logan might not be able to remember being that age, but he didn't really need to. He had a nose. He knew just how often teenage boys' thoughts headed certain directions.
The moment they settled on the edge of the lake, John took his lighter out and lit it, smiling as he started playing with a little ball of fire.

Logan and John had a deal. John could play with his fire when they were out here to his heart's content, and Logan would trust him to know his own ability to keep it under control. They'd struck the deal mostly because the kid had a tendency to repetitively click his lighter, which got on Logan's last nerve inside of about fifteen seconds. Logan was nothing if not pragmatic, so he'd decided to treat John like he knew his ass from his elbow until he proved otherwise.

Thus far, there hadn't been a problem. And there had been more than one day when John was so agitated he couldn't sit still. Logan had a feeling that was at least part of the problem John had with the other X-Men. He, unlike most of the kids here, had been on the street for a while, fending for himself, making his own decisions. Going back to being a 'normal' teenager with bedtimes and such enforced by adults was ... not really working for him, and made him resentful.

He told them about the last few days in detail. A lot more than the X-Men would probably think was wise, but shit, Rogue and John had seen some nasty shit, and while Bobby was more innocent, he had a tough core to him. They'd be fine.

"Damn." John said when Logan finally wound to a stop. "Wish I could have been there."

Logan snorted. "We could have used you, kid. All three of you. Weren't no lack of targets to take down, lemme tell you." He shrugged. "You might get a chance at it sometime. Seemed ta be the general opinion that the guy that sent the army'd be back, with more, at some point."

"They'll never let us. We're just *kids*." John said, his tone full of disdain.

"Might not be when the time comes." Logan pointed out. "You're what, a month or so from seventeen?" He pointed at John, then to the other two. "And they're not much behind you. Nobody knows when this joker'll come around again, but everyone who thinks he'll be back thinks it'll take a bit. He has a long way to come to try a second time, without the portal."

"So we might be of age by then." John said. "And even if we're not, seventeen and a bit's close enough to make a good argument." He grinned.

"I can teach you a few things between now and then. And we can talk to Stark, see if he can come up with something more reliable and less easily lost than a lighter for you to use." Logan agreed easily. "Like I said, we could use you, when it comes to that. Could use all the kids who can control their mutations. 'cause if this guy comes around with any bigger of an army than the one we dealt with, we'd be in trouble."

John and Bobby got to talking about the whole thing, and drifted off after a little bit, arguing amiably. Logan smirked over at Rogue.

"Works every time." She said. "Give them something to argue about, even playfully, and they forget the rest of the world exists. If I didn't know for sure otherwise, I'd suspect ... " She trailed off, and shook her head. "But I do know better, so they just like arguing."

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, they do. Does Bobby good, and gives John an outlet for all that energy of his."

Rogue nodded, then sobered. "You really think they wouldn't mind me over there?"

Logan snorted. "Know it for a fact. I stood there and watched as Stark flew up to Hulk pretty as you please, after the fight, fearless as anything, and started joking with him, then bundled him up and carried him off when he switched back to Banner. If he ain't afraid of the Hulk, he's not gonna think twice about you, or even me. And the others seemed to be pretty blase about things too. Hank, Kurt, and Warren got a few stares, but that was over quick and nobody treated them shitty."

Rogue nodded. "That's good to hear." She said. "Especially since I think you're going to want to hang around with them a lot. I'd like to meet 'em. Especially Rogers." More because he'd known Logan so long ago, rather than because he was Captain America.

"I'm gonna be headin' back up in two days for my stint with cleanup, according to Cyke's little schedule. Wanna come with me then?" Logan asked.

Rogue nodded. "Sure!"

//Logan, a few moments of your time, when you have a chance?//

Logan grimaced. "Chuck's calling. Better head in."

Rogue nodded and got to her feet, tagging along behind him as he made his way towards Charles' office, though she split off partway to go watch TV with some of the other kids.

Logan closed the office door. "Guessin' you wanna talk about what I found out while I was in New York?" He asked.

"I am more interested in making sure you are handling the discovery." Charles said. "Finding something out about yourself after so long would be ... a bit overwhelming."

Logan shrugged. "Woulda been worse if it was bad news. It wasn't." Well, mostly. He was still Not Thinking about the whole seventy years ago part of the equation. That ... that was going to take some time to deal with the implications of it.

Charles contemplated him for a few moments, then spoke again. "You're considering leaving the mansion permanently."

"Crossed my mind." Logan admitted. "I don't really fit here, Chuck. I'm not a nice man, and it's causin' problems."

Charles sighed. "I was afraid of that. I'll make you a deal, Logan." And here he smiled at using the same phrase he'd first used to get Logan to stay in the mansion six months ago. "Stay until the end of the school year, so Rogue's schooling isn't interrupted, and I won't try to argue you out of it, even if I think you could do as much good here as there."

At least Chuck had the decency to not even try to pretend Rogue wouldn't be going with him. Some of the others might not get it, but Chuck did, thanks to the telepathy. Logan nodded. "Fair enough."

"I have a feeling you might not be the only one headed the Avengers' way, either." Charles admitted.

Logan nodded. "The Cajun seemed right interested." He agreed.

"Well, that is all I wanted to ask. Please don't hesitate to seek me out if you begin to have difficulties, or start remembering things now that you have someplace to start looking." Charles said.

Logan nodded. "I'll do that." Even if he probably wouldn't. But then, Charles knew that. Logan waved and then headed out, to get a smoke before he prowled the perimeter.

He'd developed something of a habit here, most evenings. He'd smoke a cigar, then prowl the entire perimeter. Then he'd check the mansion itself, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. That this routine meant he didn't get to bed until two or three in the mornings most days, and thus didn't sleep much, was just a side benefit. Logan avoided sleeping when he could, since he invariably ended up tearing the bed to hell and gone and scaring everyone in the same wing if he slept for more than about three hours a night. It would be nice if that changed, but he doubted it ever would.

Chapter Text

Logan and Charles

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. //Telepathy//

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

When it was all over, Logan would just be grateful it happened outside.

It started simply enough. Logan'd been out by the lake again, leaning against a tree smoking a cigar and winding down from the last few days. John'd found him there sometime after breakfast, and had settled in nearby, sitting at the base of another tree, quietly messing about with his fire. They'd neither of them bothered with talking. It was one of the things Logan liked about the kid. A lot of folks felt the need to chatter at you because silence felt awkward to them. Logan wasn't one of those people, and he appreciated it when he ran across someone else who was the same way.

John'd been out there maybe a half hour when Jean came stalking through the trees with the air of a woman on a mission. She stormed right up to John before Logan quite realized what she was up to and started yelling at him at the top of her lungs.

"John! You irresponsible idiot! What have we told you? What have we told you? You are not to use your powers anywhere except the Danger Room, and even then only under strict supervision!" Jean bawled. "How many times have we gone through this? Why can't you just do as you're told for once?" And then she hauled back and slapped John's lighter out of his hand.

Logan was moving before the first sentence was completely out of her mouth, because John was giving her a deer-in-the-headlights look that he'd never seen on the kid's face before. Logan could literally see the situation going tits up before it actually did. Because John, who was normally loud and brash and angry, was unexpectedly plastering himself against the tree behind him, curling in on himself protectively. When Jean slapped at him, all hell broke loose.

Because Pyro started to live up to his name.

Like a lot of mutants, Pyro was completely immune to his own power ... he couldn't burn himself. He used that to good effect either instinctively or deliberately, Logan wasn't sure which, because his entire body was abruptly wreathed in flames. Jean instantly backpedaled, helped by a vicious shove from Logan.

At that, she was lucky. She wasn't a complete stranger, or worse, an enemy. So Logan's claws weren't out. But that was as lucky as she got, because she was now in a position that Mystique, Sabretooth and even Magneto could have told her was a bad position to be in. Because Logan was seeing her as a threat.

Logan put himself between John and Jean, all his attention on Jean. His head was lowered, body hunched and coiled, hands balled into fists and wrists at the angle that allowed him to pop his claws. At that moment, he resembled a predator that had spotted wounded prey and was about to pounce. Thankfully, Jean's lizard brain recognized the danger even if the rest of her didn't, and she froze in place on the ground.

There was only one problem. John might be immune to his power, but the tree he'd been leaning against for damn sure wasn't. The thing had gone up in flames more or less instantly, and the fire was spreading fast. Despite having all his attention on Jean, Logan could feel the heat blistering his back and the backs of his legs and threatening to make his clothes combust. Unfortunately, there really wasn't a damn thing he could do about the situation.

Fortunately, the rather visible pillar of flame garnered a lot of attention. Bobby came flying towards them, wide-eyed in alarm, and started flinging ice in a wide ring around the existing conflagration, trying to keep the fire from spreading. Ororo wasn't more than ten seconds behind him, flying in on the wind as the sky darkened and a deluge started.

Rogue, who must've been with Bobby when the fire started, arrived next with Scott on her heels.

For a few moments, there was utter chaos as rain and ice water doused everything and Scott tried to figure out what the hell was going on. The water apparently shocked John out of whatever flashback he'd been having, or whatever the deal had been there and he pulled his fire back. With apparent backup arriving, Jean recovered from her temporary bout of sanity regarding being very leery of a highly pissed and protective Logan and decided to open her mouth again.

"John was ... " She started.

Logan was having *none of it*. "Muzzle your bitch, Scott, before I do it for you." He snapped.

Scott was a lot of things, but a complete idiot wasn't one of them. Logan could count the number of times he'd called Scott by his proper name on one hand with fingers left over. So Scott knew him using his real name now was an indication of how serious the situation was. How close Logan was to smacking Jean unconscious.

"Jean, that's enough." Scott said. "Go inside. We'll sort this out with Charles once everyone's calmer."

Logan snorted in disgust as she quieted down and stomped off, singed ego and righteous anger almost visible in her wake. Once she was gone, Logan turned to John, who was rather pasty-faced. "You ok, kid?"

John swallowed hard. "I ... yeah. I'm fine."

And that was bullshit if Logan had ever heard it. John looked like he was about five seconds from bolting. Logan gave another snort. "Rogue, go pack our shit and head for the truck." He told her, meaning the truck he'd bought to replace the one that got blown up when they'd met. "C'mon, kid. Last place you need to be right now is here. Rogue and I were planning on heading for Stark's in the morning anyway. Might as well go early."

John gave Logan a flat look. "They won't want me around." He snapped. "No one ever does after this shit happens."

Logan barked a laugh. "Which part of me tellin' you that Stark rooms with the guy that can become the Hulk if he has a bad day didn't you hear, John?" He wanted to know. "Stark won't give a shit, and the others ain't exactly in a position to throw stones. I'm fairly sure they all have body counts higher'n yours."

To his surprise, John actually flinched. Logan blinked. Well shit, no wonder the kid had so many problems in general and here in particular, if he'd killed someone somewhere along the way. Logan wasn't too worried about it, because the kid clearly didn't like that it had happened from the way he'd reacted.

"Anyway, go pack your shit and meet Rogue in the garage. We'll head for the city as soon as I'm done with Chuck."

John gave a grim nod and headed off, Bobby trotting along behind him, looking concerned. Logan shook his head and headed for Charles' office.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Charles maintained a light awareness of everyone in the mansion. He mostly monitored for mood, as a sudden shift was usually precursor to some sort of trouble. Thus, he was aware of Jean's agitation and anger, but not the cause of it. Given that it was increasing, Charles had begun to focus more of his attention in her direction, wondering what was amiss.

Then John's panic, fear, and general distress slammed into him like a tidal wave. It took Charles a few seconds to sort things out as everyone suddenly reacted to something Charles couldn't see or hear with his own eyes from his office. When he finally won a clear look at the situation, it was from Ororo's eyes.

It was not a comforting tableau. Logan was radiating the sort of barely contained violence that he had exhibited in defense of Rogue six months prior, and all his attention was locked on Jean. Jean was on her back, propped on her elbows and staring at Logan and John. John was backed against a tree, the tree and an ever-increasing circle around him enveloped in flames, including himself.

Charles couldn't get a sense of what had precipitated the incident, unfortunately, but Logan's focus on Jean and his angry demand to Scott made it clear that she was probably the precipitant. //Jean, come to my office. Now.// Charles said, backing up Scott's order.

It took a few minutes for everyone to arrive. Charles strongly suspected that Logan had delayed long enough to reassure himself as to John's condition before heading for Charles' office. The tension already present in the room ratcheted up several levels when Logan finally did step in. Even Charles found himself responding atavistically to the threat a part of his brain insisted that Logan presented, despite Charles knowing better.

"What happened?" Charles asked.

Jean immediately opened her mouth to speak, only to snap it shut at a basso growl from Logan.

"John and I were out by the lake." Logan growled. "Kid and I have a deal. He can play with his fire so he don't annoy the hell out of me clicking his lighter constantly, and I'll trust he knows what the hell he's doin'." Logan's accent was coming across stronger thanks to his irritation. "We've been doin' it that way for months with no problem, and a couple times, the kid's been so agitated he could barely see straight."

That news was no surprise. Charles had been aware of, pleased by, and completely in favor of the relationship between Logan and John. John had needed, badly, someone who could reach him and teach him and guide him effectively.

"Everything was fine until she came barreling out, screaming like a banshee." Logan growled, indicating Jean. "She slapped the kid's lighter out of his hand, and everything went to hell."

Given the emotions Charles had picked up off of John, it was possible the boy'd had a flashback. His life prior to being brought to the mansion certainly provided more than enough fodder for one.

Logan focused on Charles. "I dunno what the fuck her problem is, but you need to put a muzzle and a leash on her, before she drives someone right to Magneto. She's been giving Rogue shit from the word go, about her powers, about hanging with me, and anything else she could think of. As it is, deal's fucking off. If she's gonna start pushing buttons this hard, I'm gone before I do something we all end up regretting. And Rogue and John are coming with me, because like fuck John needs to be around her right now, and like fuck I'm leavin' Rogue to her tender mercies."

So saying, Logan stormed out.

Charles got a brief explanation of what they'd seen once they arrived from the others, then dismissed them, and regarded Jean sadly.

"Jean. We have spoken about this." He said quietly, disappointedly.

From a certain perspective, Charles really couldn't blame her for being twitchy about uncontrolled mutations. Telepathy was hell on the mutants that had it until they learned some sort of control, and Jean's manifestation of telepathy had been rather more traumatic than most, spurred as it was by the death of her childhood friend. That sort of thing left scars on the psyche. Charles had tried to soothe the trauma and resultant fears, but Jean still had ... moments. Especially with those children who had especially devastating powers, like Rogue and John. And Scott. Scott, though, was sturdy and practical enough to shrug off her moments of panic, and in many ways, shared her concerns due to the uncontrollable nature of his own mutation, and the devastation he'd wreak if he opened his eyes unprotected for even part of a second.

Unfortunately, from another perspective, Logan was completely right. Jean's tendency to handle this particular subject badly had the potential to drive a child away, and straight into the camp of someone who would encourage them to use their power for less than savory purposes, whether that was Magneto or someone else.

Charles had lost Erik to rage and despair. He did not plan to lose anyone else.

"I think it is time we began your sessions again, Jean. This problem is clearly not fixed." He said.

Jean sighed and nodded. Charles didn't mistake it for agreement, merely concession. She would probably never entirely agree that her issues with uncontrolled mutations needed fixing.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Logan didn't have very long to wait at all in the garage before both Rogue and John came trotting out, Rogue carrying two duffel bags (one his, one hers), John carrying a duffel and a hiker's backpack that had definitely seen better days.

Rogue tossed a shirt at him when she got close enough. "Better change. That one's full of holes in the back, and is gonna draw attention."

Logan snorted, but stripped off the shirt he was wearing and pulled the new one. Once he'd gotten the old one off, he saw what she meant. The thing had mostly been hanging on by dint of sheer willpower, as most of the back had been burned away thanks to him being so close to the fire.

John saw the remains of Logan's shirt and blanched even further than he had been already. "Oh, shit. God, Logan, ... "

Logan cut him off. "Shaddup, John. You didn't hurt me." Well, not really. Took a bit more than being singed to register as full-on pain in Logan's books. "Throw your stuff in the back and get in."

John did as he was told, and ended up sandwiched between Logan and Rogue. From the look on her face, it was completely deliberate on Rogue's part. Logan didn't really blame her. John had that glassy-eyed look that said he might be headed into shock, and reminding him he was 'safe' and keeping him warm (which was a hell of an irony considering the kids' power) were a good idea.

Chapter Text

John and Tony

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The typical kid at the X-Mansion had had a good life, before their mutations popped up. A few of them even still had supportive, loving parents who knew they were mutants. The rest had only known the fear and desperation that was life on the streets for a few days or, at most, a few weeks before Charles found them and brought them in.

John envied them their naiveté. Because that hadn't even been close to John's life. John had been born to the town drunks. The violent, abusive town drunks. John's earliest memory is of being on the receiving end of a drunken beating. He spent most of his childhood wearing long sleeves hating everyone around him, because everyone knew his parents were drunks. They even knew his father was a violent drunk, because he ended up in the town lockup at least once a month. But no one ever bothered to find out if that viciousness was being turned on John.

Things just got worse when, at the age of ten, his mutation had blown wide open during yet another fight (and yet another beating), resulting in everything in a half block radius burning to the ground, and the death of both his parents and the neighbors on both sides of his house, because they hadn't had time to run before the fireball consumed their houses. There'd been something like twenty injured, ranging from severe burns to smoke inhalation.

John had, rather understandably, run for the hills when the smoke and fire had cleared and he got a good look at the devastation. He'd been forced to keep running, too. Because his mutation was practically a living thing under his skin.

It had taken time for him to get any sort of handle on it whatever, but he eventually figured out that he could 'feel' any fire, no matter the size. From the little flame in the pilot light on the stove all the way up to the superhot blazes used in funeral homes to cremate the dead. Worse, he could control them all. Or, well, in those early days, inadvertently hijack control and cause rather epic amounts of damage. He'd left rather a lot of devastation in his wake without meaning to.

He'd scrabbled to survive over the next couple years. Had ... done things, to survive that he ... really hated himself for, most days. He'd been fourteen when Charles showed up and tried to talk him into coming with him. John had very nearly lit him on fire, because John had assumed Charles wanted him to come with him for *entirely* different reasons than the ones Charles meant. It'd taken Charles two solid weeks of talking to convince John he wasn't an axe murderer or a serious creeper of some sort before John went with him.

When he'd met Bobby, and found out Bobby had been coming to the mansion since he was ten, it had resulted in a rather epic flame-up, because all John had been able to think was 'why the fuck didn't I get found when I was ten?', because he was literally only a week older than Bobby. He hadn't spoken to any of the adults for a month after that. Had almost walked out. Had, in fact, punched Bobby in the face.

When he'd finally explained why, Bobby had actually looked a little abashed, and had said he'd punch himself in the face, too, under the circumstances. It had been the beginning of their rather oddball friendship. Which remained the only friendship John had at the mansion.

At least, until Logan came. Rogue had made damn sure everyone knew exactly what Logan had done on her behalf before they got rescued by the X-Men, so by the time the guy woke up and came upstairs, he'd already managed to attain something remarkably close to legendary status with more than one of the kids.

The next few days had done absolutely nothing to destroy that status, and a fuckton and a half to strengthen it. Because Jesus Fucking Christ. John had envied Rogue more than a little for having such a stalwart, determined and fucking lethal protector.

What had made it a bit weird for John was the fact he wasn't afraid of Logan. Which, considering the dude's tendency towards violence, and the fact John had been leery of every other adult male in the mansion, including Kurt and Hank, who would sooner kill a fly than hurt any of the kids, was kind of odd. It wasn't until John realized half the kids in the mansion gravitated towards Logan given half the chance that he realized the phenomenon wasn't limited to him.

What had surprised him was the fact that Logan let it happen. That Logan didn't give a shit about the damage John could do, and didn't push John to talk about his feelings or constantly remind him to not use his powers. Logan didn't treat him like he was a baby who didn't know his own mind, either. John loved it, and started hanging out with Logan more and more.

Figures something had to happen to ruin it.

John had flashbacks, sometimes. It wasn't like he didn't have sufficient cause for them. It wasn't a frequent thing, thankfully, but they happened, and it always sucked when it did. Though normally, he didn't try to set the world on fire when he had one. But somewhere in the middle of her rant, Jean had become his mother, and that slap had not been aimed at his hand at *all*, and ... yeah. Fire in the hole, as the saying went.

He was still hearing the screams, and smelling the unmistakable, unforgettable odor of charred human flesh as he packed, the room shimmying around him, trying to morph into a room he'd burned to the ground almost seven years ago.

It was something of a relief to be sandwiched between Logan and Rogue in the truck. They both had unique scents that clashed with the past that was trying to continue fucking up his day. Between Logan's cigar stench and Rogue's magnolia-scented perfume, John was finally beginning to get his feet back under him about the time they hit the city limits.

Sometimes, he really hated his life. He wasn't looking forward to meeting Stark and the others. Logan's insistence be damned, John just knew this was not going to end well. Nobody liked having someone around who could burn their house down around their ears inside of a minute if they got upset. Granted, the Tower would take John longer than that, but it could still happen.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

"Sir, Logan is in the lobby, with two teenagers." Jarvis informed Tony, who was out in the city helping with cleanup in his suit. "One of the teens seems to be in some distress, and they are all carrying luggage."

Tony frowned. What the hell? "Wonder what happened. Let them up to the penthouse. If the kid is actually injured, give Bruce a call. He's the best we've got until I hire someone in." Which would take some doing, because finding a doctor who could handle two aliens, a supersoldier and Bruce when it came to medical needs would be a hell of a trick. "I'll be right there. And let the X-Men that are in the city know he's here."

"Of course, Sir." Jarvis told him.

Tony finished helping to deal with the rubble where he was at, then apologized, claiming another site needed his assistance, and jetted off.

"It is John with him." Jarvis said as Tony was landing on the balcony assembler. "As well as Rogue."

"John?" Tony scrambled for a minute, trying to remember who that was. He'd met all the X-kids at one point or another, but there were a lot of them, so remembering who was who was ... tricky.

"The young man with the gift for fire control." Jarvis supplied.

That rattled the right memory into place. Angry kid with brown hair, always had a blonde-haired kid tagging along in his wake. "What the hell happened?" He wanted to know.

"Logan has not said, but he is ... I would almost classify it as hovering, Sir. And John is showing fading symptoms of shock."

Well, that couldn't be good. By then, the suit was completely stripped off and Tony walked into the penthouse. "Logan, good to see you again. John, you too." He turned to the girl. "And you must be Rogue." He held out a hand to shake.

When she hesitated, Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, skin, I know about it. Logan talked. A lot. Well, sort of a lot. A lot for him, I guess. Point is, I know. I also don't give a fuck. You're covered, and I seriously doubt you're going to get frisky with me for shits and giggles, so ... " He waggled his hand at her.

She smiled at him and took the hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Sorry we dropped in like this, but there was a bit of a situation earlier today." Logan growled.

Like, literally growled. Tony was impressed, because he did not know human vocal chords could do that. It was a little impressive.

"Yeah, no, no big deal. There's plenty of room around here. You guys can hang out as long as you want." Tony said.

John was giving him a funny look. "Don't you even want to know what happened?" He asked.

"Nope, don't care." Tony told him.

He found out anyway. John glared at him, the sort of challenging look that Tony had all but patented long before this kid was even born. "I had a fucking flashback and damn near burned the forest down."

Tony shrugged. "Not my trees." He said. "And flashbacks happen, kid. You're not going to be the only one having them around here." The Avengers were sort of spoiled for choice when it came to flashback material in their lives. "Long's you don't start with the maniacal cackling and deliberate burning of half the city, I'm not going to give a shit. Hell, I'll give you access to my lab. I've usually got some sort of metalwork going on down there thanks to the suits. You want to burn shit, you can work it off heating the metal up, save my equipment some wear and tear."

And now the kid was staring at him with the sort of 'wtf' face that Tony normally saw after one of his more unusual stunts, from Rhodey. Tony shook his head. "C'mon, I'll show you where you can put your stuff. Speaking of, is that all your shit? Because if it is, that's just sad, and it needs to be fixed, pronto. I'm already planning to stage an intervention for Steve, because his clothing choices are fucking tragic. The Spy Twins aren't much better. They came in with two duffels apiece and I'm fairly sure it was all weapons, which ... " Tony shook his head. "And Agent's got a closetful of the same suit and nothing else." And poor Bruce hadn't even had enough to completely fill a duffel bag. "So yeah, planning a shopping trip in a few days. We can add you three to the list."

"Are you for real?" John asked, his tone one of pure shock.

Tony grinned at him. "Last I checked, yeah. Seriously, it's not like I'll miss the money. I make more on *interest* in a couple hours than I will end up spending on you lot in a day."

John shook his head. "Un fucking believable." He muttered.

Tony laughed. "It gets better from here, John." About then, the elevator doors opened. Both teens just sort of stared in shock.

"The entire floor is one apartment?" Rogue asked in disbelief. "I'm with John. Are you *real*?"

Tony laughed. "Go, shoo, pick a room. There's four in this apartment, so you all have plenty of room."

Both kids took of like bats out of hell, the upset of earlier forgotten momentarily as they hurried to claim rooms and check out the amenities.

"So what actually happened, or did he sum it up fairly well?"

"Fairly well." Logan admitted. "Missed a few things. Like that Jean was the cause of it. Yelled at him and slapped his lighter out of his hand. I dunno the kid's story so I don't know why that set off a flashback, but it was a doozy. He lit up quite a piece of real estate before Ororo and Bobby got it stopped. Just glad they were both there for it. I told them both to pack up. He doesn't need to be around her right now, and if I stay near her I'm going to end up doing something we'd both regret."

Tony shook his head. "Well, you're welcome to hang out here as long as you want." He said. "Like I said, it's not like I don't have the room or the money to put you up." Then he spoke a little louder. "Jarvis, go ahead and give John access to my lab. That way he can get in to play fire monkey if he needs to."

"Already done, Sir." Jarvis said, sounding smug.

Chapter Text

Remy and Natasha

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Remy had had a long, fruitful day. It took a certain degree of skill to blow debris into manageable chunks without making even more of a mess or hurting people with the blast, even for him. The demolition crew he'd been working with all day had damn near started worshipping him, which made him worry about their level of sanity. They'd even offered his a full-time job with their crew for a truly obscene amount of money of you weren't Tony Stark or Warren Worthington.

He'd declined the offer gently. As much fun as blowing things up was, he didn't exactly want to do it for a living. He hadn't told the slightly unhinged, explosion-loving demolition crew that, of course. He'd just told them he already had a job. It was even the truth. Above and beyond the X-Men gig, he taught some of the kids French.

Remy stretched as he made his way to the Tower. He was supposed to be making his way to the edge of the destroyed zone and the parking garage where the van they'd driven down in was at, but Remy had other plans. He'd told Hank, Kurt, and Warren not to expect him. They hadn't asked why. Hank had actually told him to let them know what had happened.

Even Warren, who called Logan an uncouth hooligan, among other epiteths admitted that something serious had to have happened to drive Logan into taking not just Rogue but John as well out of the mansion. Apparently permanently, no less.

"Jarvis, where's Logan and the kids?" Remy asked as he walked into the Tower and headed for the elevator.

"They are on the common gathering level." Jarvis told him.

"Let me off there, would you?" Remy told him.

"Of course, Mr. LeBeau." Jarvis said.

The elevator doors snapped shut and it started moving the moment Remy was inside. Remy could get used to never having to wait for an elevator, or for a bunch of random strangers to pile in with him and get off before he did.

Remy had never told anyone about his empathy. He was relatively sure, in point of fact, that not even Charles had sussed that bit of information out. It was of limited use, anyway, as he could only pick up on emotions of people in about a twenty foot radius or so. His ability to influence emotion was even more limited. Anyone he tried it on had to be unaware that's what he was up to, have no mental defenses, and not be in the grips of a blindingly intense emotion.

Mostly all the empathy did was cause him trouble. It made things like elevator rides and subways a hassle. Though Remy was willing to admit it had made locating people trapped in the rubble a lot easier when he'd been on that job the day of the attack and the day after.

Logan and the kids were hanging out around the massive flat screen TV, watching some movie with a lot of action and explosions. Remy snorted in amusement and vaulted over the back if the couch they were on and slid down into the spot between John and the arm of the couch.

"One of these times, someone is going to smack the crap out of you for doing that." John said amiably.

Remy snorted. "Nah." He said. "Never going to happen."

He let the movie run for a little bit. He didn't bother trying to figure out the plot, as he'd walked in partway through the movie. He just enjoyed the violence and explosions. Eventually, when the action died down for a bit, he glanced over at Logan.

"So why the change of address?" He asked.

"Jean." Logan said.

Remy snorted again at the one word response. The worse part of it was that in this case, one word pretty much explained the situation. Well, mostly.

"So what'd she say to Rogue this time?" He asked. It wasn't a bad guess, even if it didn't really explain John joining them.

"Wasn't Rogue." Logan said.

Remy blinked in surprise. He'd been aware, like the rest of the X-Men, that John tended to hang out with Logan. He'd had no idea their relationship had evolved to the point that Logan considered John to be under his protection, however. He didn't think any of the others had known either.

"Well, that explains it." Remy said.

What, exactly, had happened still hadn't been answered, but Remy could guess. It wasn't all that hard to guess, given it was Jean involved. She was fairly predictable about certain things.

"She got her pants in a wad over me using my fire when I'm by the lake with Logan." John told him. "Started screaming at me. It didn't end well."

Well that much Remy had been able to figure out by himself. "Yeah, noticed that." He said, sounding amused. "Ain't the first tome she's stepped in it. How many times have you heard her give me shit because I'm an ignorant, thieving Cajun?" He asked.

John laughed. "Way too many times." He admitted. "I kind of want to be there when she finally figures out how wrong she is."

"Makes two of us." Rogue said, speaking up for the first time. "Because I had Remy pegged after five minutes. Jean's known him for a year and still thinks he can't speak in the first person most of the time."

"Remy jus' a dumb ol' Cajun boy." Remy said, his native Cajun accent abruptly in full effect. All four of them laughed.

Remy had definitely had a rather distinctive accent as a kid, but he'd gone to a lot of trouble to learn to speak with a less distinctive accent. The Cajun was good for hoodwinking people into thinking he was an idiot, but useless for any other purpose, including blending into a crowd. He still had a faint French lilt to certain sounds, but it was faint and only on certain sounds, so hardly all that distinctive.

They fell quiet after that, and went back to watching the movie. About the time the movie finished, the elevator opened and disgorged Tony, Pepper, Natasha, Clint and Bruce. A few moments later, the doors opened a second time and Thor, Steve, Phil and Betty stepped out. A third trip produced Darcy, Erik, Jane and Loki. Remy waved at them as they started wandering around.

Tony flopped down in the chair next to where Remy was sitting on the couch. "Hanging out rather than going back, Remy?" He asked.

"Yeah. Wondered what drove Logan to bring the kids down here." Remy admitted. "Besides, your pad is better equipped." He waved a hand, indicating the entire floor of stuff in general and the flat screen in particular.

Tony sat up. "Oh. Hey, thanks for the reminder." He said. "We really need to set up a culture thing. You know, 'this is how things work' 101, and 'this is our entertainment' 101. We have two aliens and a guy who's been out of the loop for seventy years to get caught up on everything."

Pepper smiled as she perched on the arm of Tony's chair. "Otherwise known as an excuse to subject everyone to your taste in movies." She teased.

"Hey, they're good movies." Tony objected with a grin. "Just because they're not chick flicks ... " He ended up having to dodge not only Pepper's gentle backhand to the shoulder, but multiple cushion projectiles aimed his way by the rest of the women, including Natasha.

"Dude. You did not just go there." Clint said, looking very wide-eyed.

Remy didn't blame him. "Didn't know you had a death wish, Tony." He said, agreeing completely with Clint. Calling the sorts of movies women liked chick flicks, even if it was true, was dangerous. And that was just with normal women. When Natasha Romanov was in the room, it was outright suicidal.

Tony grinned and shrugged. "They can't kill me." He pointed out with an impish grin, completely ignoring the stink eye Pepper was giving him. ""I pay the bills. They'd only hurt me a little."

Clint abruptly sat forward. "I just realized. This means they haven't seen ... " He waved a hand. "Any of the good shit. This is a tragedy. I agree with Stark. We have to fix this."

That got amused laughter from most of the people in the room.

"But how do we do it?" Bruce asked. "By year? By genre? By status as a classic? There's a million ways."

"First thing's first, we need to figure out which ones to skip, no matter how good they are, because they're going to cause problems for someone in the group." Betty said quietly.

Tony grimaced but nodded. "Point. I can think of a few off the top of my head that we need to steer clear of."

Remy could too. Like The Abyss, for one. Which was too bad, because it was an awesome movie. Unfortunately, the whole drowning in freezing water thing and Bud sacrificing himself to save the day (especially since it wasn't a permanent sacrifice) was just *asking* for a flashback with Rogers.

Remy joined in on the increasingly spirited debate over how to handle the movie situation, and which movies needed to be eliminated from the 'must be watched' list with relish. They all had their favorites, movies they considered vital to be watched. Predictably, with such a diverse group, practically every movie named had several advocates as well as several detractors.

He did, though, head over to Thor, Loki and Steve after a while. All three of them were looking confused, exasperated, and amused by turns, and Remy knew it had to be irritating to not have anything to contribute or even really know what the heck everyone was on about. So he wandered over and sat down by them, giving them a brief, vague run-down of the plots of various movies, so they'd at least have an idea of what was going on.

Or, he tried to. Turned out, movies had not come up in Loki's brain download except that they were a form of entertainment. Thor didn't even know that much. Steve, for all intents and purposes was nearly as clueless, since he'd actually been born before so-called 'talkies' had been invented. Not by all that much, Remy didn't think (he wasn't sure how old Steve was) but still. So he had to explain the concept of movies to Thor and Loki, and things like CGI to all of them before they could really understand what was going on.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Eventually, the movie debate wound down. No movies were watched that night, since they needed to get a list of 'no' movies ironed out before they got started. Natasha waited for Stark to get to his feet and head for the kitchen area, clearly intending to get something to eat or drink, and followed him. She made sure she made enough noise that he could hear her coming. Stalking silently and scaring the shit out of people was fine when it was for training or in the field, but doing it with her teammates was a bad idea.

"Stark." She said, swinging up onto a bar stool in front of the island that served as both prep and eating area in the kitchen proper. "We need to talk."

Tony gave her a wary look as he pulled a bottle out of the refrigerator. "Oh?"

"I deliberately blew the op with you." Natasha told him. "Fury forced it. Phil, Clint and I knew nothing good would come of his interest in you. So I deliberately blew it."

Tony cocked an eyebrow at her. "Uh huh."

Natasha snorted. "Stark, I've been a spy for a long, long time. I've made a career out of getting in and out of places unnoticed. Of getting close to targets to find the weak spots in their security and their mentalities. Now, do you think someone with that sort of track record would break character so badly when asked to box with someone?"

That made Tony blink a bit. "Ok, point." He finally admitted. "So you ... tried to make me suspicious without actually saying something and getting Fury on your ass?"

Natasha nodded. "And I deliberately threw your assessment to hell and gone." She said. "I had a good idea of what Fury was looking for, hoping to see. If he'd gotten it, he would have tried to force you into the fold. I know you could have fought him off, but you really didn't need that sort of stress right then."

Tony regarded her for a long moment. "You weren't wrong." He pointed out.

Natasha gave him a flat stare. "Stark, you may be a little volatile, yes, but you're a fucking genius. Volatility generally comes with that territory. You play well enough with others, or none of us'd be here. And you for fuck sure aren't any sort of narcissist, nevermind a textbook one."

She tapped the table with a finger. "You're a snarky bastard, but that's hardly something to kick you out of the Avenger Initiative for." Especially given Clint was on the Initiative list from the beginning. Clint was damn near as much a sarcastic bastard as Tony was, and she dreaded the day Clint relaxed enough around the rest of the team to let that side of him out. "Your other faults are no worse than any of the rest of ours."

Tony just stared at her again for a long moment, before his expression suddenly cleared as if he'd figured out what was going on. "You're apologizing." He finally realized.

"Something like that. I don't like having shit like that on the docket. It muddies the waters." Natasha said. "And if I'd been given a choice on how to handle giving you that syringe, I'dve done something else there, but Fury was watching."

"And Fury is a bastard." Tony said. "Fair enough. Clean slate?" He offered a hand.

"Clean slate." Natasha agreed.

Chapter Text

Loki, Jarvis and Thor

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Warning! Semi-graphic description of torture ahead. If you're easily squicked, skipped the section in italics. Italics is a dream sequence. Andhrimnir is a ‘real’ cook of the gods listed among the Norse god pantheon.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Loki had been managing fairly well thus far. It had helped that there was so much to distract him. The battle, the cleanup, playing about with things in Tony's lab. It had all helped Loki to ... well, not so much ignore as defer dealing with the shit that had gotten flung his way over the last year. It had also helped that he had managed to avoid actually sleeping the entire time.

But not even the great and mighty Odin Allfather could escape sleep forever, and Loki was not he. Loki had no idea how long he'd been deprived of sleep before being sent to Earth, but the night Logan brought the two teens to the Tower to stay, Loki lost the battle to stay awake and sprawled out on the bed in his quarters, asleep almost before he hit the pillow.

The asteroid was desolate, an expanse of rock and dust and rough-hewn caves. What little atmosphere there was burned his lungs, making him hack and choke and gasp for air that he was not going to get. The heavy chains shackled him to the rock beneath him, forced him to kneel with his nose but a scant few centimeters from rock, the press of his legs against his abdomen further constricting his ability to pull in what little air there was to sustain him. Hunger gnawed at his belly.

He did his best to ignore all this, to pull all his attention inward. His mind had become a ferocious battlefield. His stubborn determination against Thanos' sheer power. Despite his best attempts, Thanos was winning. More and more of his mind, his defenses, were falling under Thanos' attack. He had been forced to withdraw almost all of his attention deep into his mind, burying what little there remained of himself, in hopes it would be protected and go unnoticed when the inevitable happened.

Then, one of Thanos' minions approached, with a long, thin object in its hands. Loki took no notice at first, until fire erupted across his back, yanking his attention back out of his mind, away from the battle there and to the outside world.

The minion held some sort of whip, the end tipped with viciously curved sharp bits of metal. Now that it had Loki's attention, it snapped the whip again, and fire erupted once more as the metal dug into Loki's back. Then again, and again. It went on what seemed forever. Until the rock was soaked in his blood, the dust forming a macabre sort of mud with the moisture. Until he screamed.

Loki woke screaming and thrashing in the bed, twisting and writhing so violently he tipped himself off the bed and hit the floor with a crash. Still locked in memories, he scrambled backwards madly until he slammed into the wall, then curled in on himself, shaking violently.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Jarvis, of course, had no need to sleep. He watched over Sir and the others in the night, knowing that many of them ... actually, all of them ... had things in their pasts that could and would disturb their slumber.

He noticed Loki's distress instantly. He did what he had always done for Sir, and spoke up, calling Loki by name. This tactic had always woken Sir from his nightmares. Unfortunately, the tactic was not a success with Loki. When Loki woke on his own, he showed no sign of recognizing his surroundings. Jarvis immediately applied to the one person he hoped could reach Loki.

"Thor." He called, turning up the lights in Thor's room to waken him.

Thor woke almost instantly, sitting upright in bed and looking confused for a moment, then figured it out. "Jarvis?"

"Thor, Mr. Friggasson is ... in extreme distress. He suffered from a nightmare. I was unable to wake him. He has since woken on his own, but shows no sign of recognizing his surroundings."

Thor had been halfway to the elevator by the time Jarvis had gotten to the part about a nightmare. Jarvis opened the elevator door and sped it to Loki's floor as he explained.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Thor had been a warrior for a very long time, so he by necessity slept but lightly. Thus was it easy for Jarvis to waken him, though Thor was temporarily confused as to his surroundings. The Tower was yet unfamiliar territory to him.

Jarvis' news had Thor moving at speed for the elevator. He had feared this. Feared it and acknowledged the inevitability of it. Thanks be, Thor had some idea of what to do, as Loki was not the first person in Thor's acquaintance to fall prey to ill dreams driven by the brutality of war or memories of capture and torture by the enemy. Given the Aesir's long lives and even longer history as warriors, such a malady was fairly commonplace.

He found Loki in one of the bedrooms on his floor, curled in a defensive ball and pressed flat against the wall, eyes wide and wild and unseeing, one hand half-raised and literally glowing with barely-restrained magical power.

Thor immediately crouched himself, aware of how much larger than Loki he was even when they were both standing. With Loki curled in a ball on the floor, Thor knew he would seem to loom over his brother, which was not the best idea. He cast about in his mind for a way to reach Loki, then abruptly smiled, despite the situation, as an idea occurred to him.

As young children, when they had yet been all but inseparable, before Thor had met the Warriors Three or Lady Sif, he and Loki had played many games together. One such had been to create a sort of fake language between them, a collection of words and phrases that only they knew the true meaning of. In the fullness of time, they had added to the 'language', as Loki had seen its worth as a way for them to communicate on the hunt or the battlefield with no other the wiser as to what they were saying to one another. Sadly, eventually they had ceased to use it as they grew more and more apart.

But Thor remembered it, and it would serve well, he hoped, to bring Loki's attention back to the here and now. Translated into proper speech, Thor's words were thus.

"Come, Loki! Wake now! For Andhrimnir has taken a new batch of cookies out of the oven. If we go now, we may yet be able to steal some while they're hot!" Thor tried his best to pitch his voice lighter, closer to what it had been when they were children, to complete the ruse.

For a miracle, it worked. Loki gave his head a sharp shake, his eyes cleared, and after a moment the power glowing around his upraised hand abated. He focused on Thor and scowled at him as he lowered his hand.

“Thor, you sound ridiculous.” He rasped out, his voice sounding as if he had screamed his throat raw.

Thor only smiled at Loki. “It worked.” He pointed out. “I care not how silly I may sound if it spares you some distress.”

+_+_+_+_+_+_

If there was anything more jarring, or ridiculous sounding, than Thor attempting to imitate a child’s falsetto voice, Loki had yet to encounter it. Despite that, he glowered at his brother.

“I need not ... “ He started, only for Thor to interrupt him, face quietly serious in a way it so rarely was.

“Brother, how many of our fellows have you seen fall prey to this very malady?” He asked. “There is no shame in it. You need not pretend to be unaffected.”

Well damn. The worst part of it was, Loki wasn’t really in any shape to fake being fine anyway. His hands were still shaking. Still, he couldn’t quite help protesting anyway. “So, what, you will lie with me then, to guard my sleep?” He scoffed.

“If that is what you need to help keep the dream demons at bay, then yes, I will do so, and gladly.” Thor said.

Loki stared at him in disbelief. “We are not children any longer, Thor, to sleep in each others’ beds!”

Thor snorted. “So we shall make play that we are.” He said, and then got to his feet long enough to pick up Loki before Loki knew what he was about and turn to deposit Loki on the bed. Thor grabbed up the blankets that had been thrown aside in the throes of Loki’s nightmare and settled them on the bed once more.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Thor wanted very badly to hug Loki when he scoffed about Thor helping him. Damn the Allfather anyway, for bringing them to this. Thor plonked Loki down on the bed and grabbed the blankets.

“Do you remember, when we were small, and the Allfather told us of the realm of the dead as a bedtime story one night?” He asked. “It was I that climbed into your bed that night, frightened of the dark and the demons awaiting us there.”

The look on Loki’s face said he did indeed remember. “Mother yelled at the Allfather for over an hour over that.” He said, sounding amused. “And we slept in the same bed for more than a week before either of us was comfortable in our own beds in the dark.”

Thor nodded as he settled next to Loki on the bed. “Aye,” He said.

Once he’d settled, half sitting on the bed beside Loki, who had also pulled himself into a mostly seated position, Thor continued to talk.

He reminded Loki of happier days and amusing incidents. The Allfather was spoken of only sparingly, and combat not at all. Thor even avoided talking about the hunts they’d gone on as adults, instead only focusing on their earliest attempts, when they had come home with bruises and laughter over mishaps, but seldom any meat. The whole thing bore a more than passing resemblance to their habit as young children, sitting up in bed after they’d been tucked in, and talking excitedly about their day until exhaustion had finally taken them.

When, some hours later, Thor realized that Loki had fallen asleep once more, his heart lit with a fierce joy. For Loki to fall asleep again in his presence after such a dream meant he had taken comfort from Thor’s presence. That he trusted Thor still, despite everything. Thor grinned happily, and kept right on talking.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Loki woke for the second time with a jerk, instantly aware that he was not alone in the room. It took some moments for him to take stock of the situation.

He was in bed ... and he was sweltering. Fully clothed, beneath the blankets, and with a very warm, very large body tucked close behind him. It was the large arm that had been thrown over his waist that allowed Loki to remember the full events of the night before.

The nightmare, and Thor, telling stories for hours until Loki’s eyes had grown heavy and he’d fallen asleep despite his best attempts not to, not wanting to have to deal with another nightmare. Yet, it would seem he had slept through the night, apparently aware on some level that he was safe.

Now if only Thor was not a cuddler in his sleep. He had ever been so, even as a child. Even when they slept under the stars during a hunt or battle. Anyone that lay within ten feet of Thor would have a high chance of finding themselves entangled in Thor’s grasp come morning. It had been one of the few things Thor had gotten teased about over the years.

“I know you are awake, Thor, so stop pretending to sleep.” Loki groused.

Behind him, Thor chuckled, and slowly untangled the two of them. “How did you know?”

“You sleep but lightly.” Loki pointed out. “You would have awoken ere I first stirred from slumber. You also snore when you sleep.”

“I do not!” Thor objected with a grin. This was an old, well-worn ‘battle’ between Thor and the others that oft accompanied him. They all claimed he snored, he claimed he did not.

“You do, brother. And I mind you that I now have ways to prove it. Midgardians have many ways to record things.” Loki pointed out. “I will prove to you once and for all that I am right.”

Thor laughed. “As you will, brother. As you will.” Then he sobered somewhat. “Loki ... if you ever wish to speak of ... “ He shrugged a bit awkwardly. “Whatever, be it what plagues your dreams or aught else, I will be glad to listen.”

Loki regarded him for a few moments, then nodded. “I mayhap take you up on that, Thor, but not this day.” He said. The dream was still too close, despite the stories and the friendly teasing.

“And if you have need of me in the night, I will come.” Thor added.

Loki shook his head. “I would not take you from your lady thus.” He said.

Thor smiled. “We do not sleep in the same bed as yet.” Thor said. “I care for her greatly, but I would come to know her a bit better before we share our bodies in that way. And even if we did sleep in the same bed, she would not begrudge you. She has spoken of you frequently in the last few days, and is concerned for your welfare.”

Loki wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that ... to people caring about him. Somewhat belatedly, something occurred to him. “Thor ... last night ... you never once referred to Odin by name, or called him father. You only ever spoke of him by title.”

Thor understood the question Loki did not ask. “No father of mine would perpetrate such cruelties on a defenseless child.” Thor said. “Unfortunately, I cannot repudiate him. He will not live forever, and when that day comes, Asgard will need a new king.”

“And you are the only son of his blood.” Loki said, understanding. Without Thor, the succession would be in contention, and there would doubtlessly be much bloodshed before a successor took the throne.

“Mind, brother, I have plans. As I did when we were but children.” Thor said.

Loki blinked at him in surprise, because Thor’s plans for the throne when he had been a child had involved the both of them ruling together.

“You still ... ?”

“More than ever, brother.” Thor said. “You have ever been the more diplomacy-minded of us. I know war, and how to wage it. You, brother, know far more of peace, and how to maintain it. How to woo allies, win friends, and intimidate enemies without resorting to war. Between us, I avow we could unite all the realms under our banner.” Then Thor grinned. “Besides, think on how it would make the Allfather writhe, to know you ruled Asgard as my equal.”

Loki couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and laughed. And here he thought *he* was the ambitious one, when Thor was harboring such dreams! Uniting the realms *and* spitting in the Allfather’s eye? He had misjudged Thor, clearly.

“I think I like the way you think, Thor.” He said when he was finally able to contain his amusement. “And I look forward to that day.”

Chapter Text

Ross, Rhodey, Jarvis and Tony

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Ross was ... not a happy man. Being thwarted by rent-a-cops and a good security system had not made for a good day a few days ago. So he'd started planning something bigger, more ... impressive. And he'd had to gather his men back up. They had evidently been let go with just a warning.

Stark's first mistake. Now, his men were as angry as he was. This was becoming personal. They would *have* the monster, one way or the other. Or they would bring Stark Tower crashing down around Stark's ears.

Fortunately, he hadn't had all the experimental tanks at Culver last year. There were still two more, since they were designed to work in pairs. Some adjustments had been made to the equipment, since the monster had initially been dropped by the weapons, but had somehow been able to rally. This time, there would be no rallying.

Even better, the rest of his special-trained unit had arrived with the tanks. So now, with his entire team and their tech available, Ross determined to mount an assault on Stark Tower and get the monster.

"Move out. I want Alpha team with me. Beta team, you hold position on the far side of the tower, so we trap the monster between us." Ross snarled at his team. The two groups split up and took off for their assigned positions.

What they found when they got there confused the holy hell out of Ross. Because Stark Tower had suddenly sprouted some very ... interesting defenses.

The Lobby level, which had been wreathed in large amounts of see-through glass, was suddenly blocked off, the glass backed by what looked like huge panels of metal. Worse, a close inspection of the upper floors led to the discovery that the glass on those floors was similarly backed. Ross could only assume that the entire Tower was thus protected, even if he couldn't really see the upper floors.

Ross cursed, and grabbed a bullhorn. "STARK, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" He bellowed. "SEND OUT THE MONSTER OR I WILL COME IN AND TAKE HIM."

The answer came from somewhere Ross didn't expect.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Rhodey had stayed in town once he'd dropped Betty off, but he hadn't stayed at the Tower. For one, Tony had enough guests at the moment. For two, he was still Air Force and they still owned his time. So he bunked down with the regular Air Force units sent to help keep the peace and clean up the mess.

Still, he'd been helping out every day. As such, it was kind of hard to miss the two very odd looking tanks and the soldiers around them heading straight for Stark Tower.

"Ross." Rhodey growled. "Jarvis!"

"I am aware of his approach, Colonel. The Tower is going into defense mode now, and I have alerted Sir."

"Good. I'll see if I can at least stall the idiot. Maybe even get him to back off. Not counting on it, but I'll try."

"Be careful, Colonel. Those tanks seem to be the same as the ones Ross used against Hulk at Culver University. They generate powerful sound waves."

"Noted. I'll watch my ass." Rhodey told Jarvis, and flew over to the Tower.

He got there just in time to hear Ross' bellowed demands, and dropped down out of the sky facing the idiot, his guns trained on him. He stopped when he was about ten feet off the deck, and hovered there.

"I'd like to see you try, Ross." Rhodey told him. "I'll enjoy watching Tony take you apart piece by piece. You even try to lay a finger on Banner, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You do remember the reports of what happened to the last few folks to piss Stark off, right? Or did you skip those reports because Stark's just a weak, helpless civvie who is beneath your notice?"

Ross glared up at him. "YOU! You kidnapped my daughter! You ... you brought her here! To where that ... monster is. You put her in danger! I'll see you court-martialed for that! I'll see you drummed out of the service with a dishonorable discharge!"

"Try it." Rhodey growled. "I DARE you to bring me into a courtroom, Ross. I'd *love* to see you try to defend your own actions while trying to demonize mine. I kidnapped your daughter? I put her in danger? You kidnapped her first, Ross. You forced her into Cheyenne Mountain with threats to Banner's life, and then kept her there against her will. I just gave her a fucking choice on what she wanted to do with her life. As for danger ... refresh my memory, again, on who it was that brought her to a battlefield and damn fucking near got her killed? Wasn't me. Wasn't Hulk. Wasn't Banner. That was all you, Ross. So really, between the two of us ... I think I've got the stronger case, don't you?"

"And you do realize that if you try to fuck with me, on top of fucking with Banner and your daughter, that Tony will take great pleasure in eviscerating you. Your pension? Forget it. Military benefits? Say bye-bye. Your career? Hope you like freezing cold and blistering heat, because you're going to find yourself stationed in the Antarctic and the center of the Sahara desert, busted down to private and having to clean the toilets of the people you bossed around just a few short weeks before." Rhodey snorted, knowing that, if anything, he was completely underselling Tony's vindictive side. Ross wouldn't know what hit him.

Then, behind his mask, he grinned. "And even if you do somehow manage to get me drummed out of the Air Force ... do you really think that will wreck my life? Really? I'm Stark's best friend. This suit is *mine*. It won't run for anyone else. So even if I got drummed out of the Air Force, all it'd mean is that I'd go into the *private* hero business. Join the Avengers. Save the world, rather than just a little chunk of it. So go ahead. Do your worst. No matter what you do, I win."

Then, he silently called up his targeting program and took aim at the tanks' weapons. Ross was going to try something anyway. He could *feel* it. Maybe it was the fact Ross was all but literally frothing at the mouth.

Sure enough, Ross practically shrieked "Fi ... "

That was as far as he got before Rhodey took action and blasted the tank weapon to heck and gone with a carefully aimed blast. He did not, after all, want to kill any of the soldiers, or even wound them if he could avoid it. After all, they didn't have much of a choice as to whether or not they followed Ross' orders.

Ross shrieked in rage. "I'll see you arrested for this! You'll never breathe free air again!" He howled.

Rhodey just gave him a shark-toothed grin he couldn't see, and said. "Bring it. I'll enjoy taking you apart in court."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Jarvis had been watching Ross very carefully since he first arrived in the city. His initial attempts to get anywhere near Doctor Banner had been fairly easily thwarted with just the presence of the security teams and one or two of the Tower's security systems.

Jarvis was quite sure that state of affairs would not last. He was finally proven right when the rest of Ross' team arrived with two familiar experimental tanks. Jarvis instantly activated the Tower's full line of defenses.

Tony, after receiving Jarvis' request, and planning for the presence of the Avengers, had put certain measures into place. Primary among them was a way to strengthen the exterior of the Tower against attack. The glass was far too easily broken by a multitude of weaponry for Tony's peace of mind.

Thus he had put into place on every floor thin panels of adamantium that would slide out of hidden alcoves and cover the glass, protecting the inhabitants. The adamantium, even as thin as Tony had made it for this purpose, was tough enough to withstand a *lot* of punishment. It had proven its worth during the invasion, as Jarvis had slapped them into place when the portal opened. Quite a bit of the glass had been broken, but the Tower had remained otherwise intact.

As he did that, he alerted Sir to the problem, beating Sir to the punch by 1.76 seconds, as Sir had been alerted to something being amiss when the window shields in his lab had slammed into place.

"Sir, General Ross is approaching with two of the experimental tanks he used on Hulk at Culver University."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Tony blinked when the light quality in his lab changed, and glanced up. "J ... "

Jarvis didn't even let him get his full name out before he explained the situation. Tony immediately wheeled himself over to where there were several computer screens available for use.

"Right, pull up the video. He wants to play hardball ... "

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes seems to have noticed the General's approach and is flying towards the Tower."

"Ohhh, excellent. This is going to be *fun*. Jarvis, record everything. I'm going to want this for posterity. And where's Bruce?"

"He is asleep in his quarters with Doctor Ross." Jarvis said.

"Perfect. Let's hope he stays that way until this is over." Tony said. "And make sure Rhodey knows about the tanks' weapons.

"Indeed, and already done, sir." Jarvis told him.

Tony watched, grinning impishly as the tanks rolled to a stop and Ross started bellowing like a bull. Then Rhodey flew down and ...

Well. Tony was just a bit impressed. Rhodey wasn't even giving the guy the courtesy of using his rank. Given that Rhodey had been in the Air Force since he was eighteen and had never been one to be insubordinate, it was a pretty damn good indication of just how pissed off Rhodey was.

Tony was reduced to outright laughter at Rhodey's comebacks to Ross' threats, though. Because Rhodey was right. There was literally nothing Ross could do to Rhodey that would put Rhodey on the losing end of the equation. Oh, Tony knew losing his commission would hurt like hell, but he wasn't wrong as to what he'd have available to do with himself if that happened. And if Ross tried to put Rhodey in jail ... yes, Tony would have entirely too much fun tearing Ross' life to pieces before he buried the man so deep he never saw daylight again.

"Tell Rhodey there's a second tank on the other side of the building, would you? We can't really do anything about it and Ross is just dumb enough to try to use it anyway."

"Of course sir." Jarvis said.

"And then tell Rhodey I'm on my way to back him up. Keep recording, let me know if anything changes. I'm going to get my suit."

"As you wish, sir." Jarvis said, swiftly passing on the warning about the tank and Sir's imminent assistance with the matter.

Tony hustled to the elevator and up to the penthouse suite. It was the work of moments to override the panels that blocked access to the assembler out on the balcony, and they closed automatically behind him. Seconds after that, he was in the suit and flying to Rhodey's assistance, covering Ross with his weapons while Rhodey went to take care of the tank on the other side of the Tower with his heavier weapons. Tony could take out tanks with his stuff fine, but his ammunition was more limited than Rhodey's, so he let Rhodey do it.

Ross glared up at him with pure venom in his expression. "Stark. Hand over the monster. Now."

"Monster?" Tony asked. "What monster? You mean the space whales? They're not actually under my control. I think you need to talk to Fury about getting your hands on them, but good luck getting Fury to share."

Tony laughed, making sure it didn't carry through the speakers, because Ross looked like he was one small push away from a stroke, heart attack, or brain aneurism, he wasn't sure which.

"I *mean*." Ross snarled. "Banner. The Hulk. He's government property. He's not safe to be around. He needs to be contained."

Tony saw red. "Bruce Banner is not fucking government property and he never will be. Last time I fucking checked, the United States had declared slavery illegal, Ross. You'll get Banner over my dead body. And the dead bodies of the rest of the Avengers. And just in case you didn't know, or had forgotten, let's count them, shall we?"

"First, there's the Black Widow. Known worldwide as the scariest motherfucking assassin ever. Then there's Hawkeye ... the world's greatest marksman and sniper, who can hit any target *without looking at it*. And of course, there's Captain America. Steve Rogers, the man who tore HYDRA a new asshole because they killed some friends of his."

Tony grinned. "And then there's Thor. God of Thunder, to whom lightning is a playtoy." Then, he switched to a 'game show host' sort of voice. "But that's not all!" And back to normal. "There's also Wolverine, who is nearly as unstoppable and unkillable as a certain green guy. And Gambit, who can blow up anything he touches. And last but damn sure not least, Loki. Scary ass guy with powerful magical abilities and more brains than you and half your goons combined."

"And even if you, by some miracle, get past all of them, there's still one left. The Hulk himself. Your fights with him have never ended in your favor, Ross. What the hell makes you think that's ever going to change?"

Right about them, a boom announced the death of the second tank's weapon. Tony grinned behind his mask. "And now you don't even have any tanks to throw at him. Go home, Ross, and quit while you're ahead."

For half a second, Tony thought Ross was going to tell his men to open fire on him. At the last possible second, Ross evidently decided that was a bad idea, the first bright idea he'd had in years, and signalled his men to back off.

Tony watched them go with no small amount of pleasure. Once the men and tanks (only the weapons were broken, not their ability to move) were out of sight, he headed back up to the balcony.

"Jarvis, tell Rhodey to use the balcony. He deserves some down time for that." Tony said.

"Of course, sir." Jarvis said, relaying the comment. "He says he will be happy to do so, though he might not be able to stay all day. He anticipates there will be problems over this."

"Yeah, so do I. I can't wait to blow the hell out of everyone that tries anything, though. I'm not going to back down on this. Not now, not ever."

"Nor should you, sir. Doctor Banner has as much right to a normal life as anyone else." Jarvis agreed.

Chapter Text

The WSC, Jarvis and Tony

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. The names are made up. I tried to make them distinctive to their regions, however.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The World Security Council had its roots in the days immediately after World War Two. The major powers of the world, having survived a near-cataclysmic confrontation, were not eager to see the birth of another. As such, they sought to find a way to ... balance the equation.

The UN was not enough. It was, to certain minds, the bastion of small-minded bureaucrats and self-aggrandizing politicians. No, to these particular minds, the only way to create a balance of power was with military strength.

While on the surface, the idea had merit, it was unfortunately fatally flawed, in that in order to curtail the power of others, the WSC would have to wield greater power. And as the saying went, power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely.

And thus, the WSC was born. Peopled entirely by military men from various countries, and led by generals. It did not take long for things to get out of hand. The WSC was even more secret than the SSR had been, or SHIELD would later try to be, and thus answered to none. Their units bore no identifying marks and were instantaneously disavowed if they were compromised in any way, leaving some random country (depending on where the disavowed units had been) to take the fall.

The WSC concerned itself with ensuring that the existing balance of power remained. Tyrants were permitted to continue leading their countries, but their ability to strike at the stronger nations was carefully monitored. When such nations reached a certain point, units were sent in to sabotage or blow up the tyrants' military installations, thus ensuring the tyrant could not reach too far beyond his own borders.

Needless to say, the WSC did not take kindly to their power being challenged.

The first challenge had come from Director Fury and SHIELD, but the WSC found him to be easily handled, and even more easily manipulated. They had merely to choose the right words and he immediately fell into line, agreeing with their decisions and backing them to the hilt, essentially giving them yet another arm to use in their attempt to control the world.

The second challenge had, ironically enough, come from within, in the form of a female soldier. This female had somehow managed to attain great accolades within the WSC, and had amassed a great deal of personal power. And she was ruthless enough to use it. Ruthless enough to rise through the ranks high enough to make it onto the WSC's Council, which made policy for the entire WSC, and deployed its units, effectively deciding who lived and who died.

But then things started to get out of hand. The balance of power was shifting in a way that the WSC could neither anticipate nor control. Because of mutants. Freaks of genetics who were born all unknowing with powers that could twist the world into knots. One-man armies that they had no way to control or stop.

So the WSC did the only thing it could, and repeated Hitler's error. They began a quiet campaign against mutants, trying to get them declared second class citizens, threats, or better yet, not even human and thus not privileged with the same rights as humans. The WSC wanted them to be labeled as animals, creatures fit only to be controlled in one way or another or killed.

They'd been meeting with a large degree of success on that front, to their pleasure. Unfortunately, mutants seemed to be only the tip of the iceberg. Because after they'd begun to get a handle on that situation, the nonmutant freaks had started coming out of the woodwork. Most of them, it had been easy enough to label them as 'mutants' and lump them under the same banner.

But Banner had been a problem. That particular monster could not be contained by any means anyone had ever been able to find. But Ross, while not one of their number, was serving them admirably by chasing Banner all over the globe and rendering him essentially powerless. He had no friends, no safe harbor, and as such, was less of a threat.

Stark, on the other hand, had pissed the WSC off. The suit, his one-man (successful, worse!) campaign to privatize world peace ... it was anathema to them. He was ruining *everything*. And the worst part was, he didn't respond to any threats except with violence. Nothing they tried to shut him up and shut him down worked. He simply ignored it and kept right on going.

The invasion had sent the WSC into a screaming froth. Aliens. Powerful aliens. With powerful weapons. To whom Earth was nothing more than a pitiful mudball to be conquered. Worse, it was not the WSC who fought them off. It was the very freaks the WSC had spent the last fifty or sixty years trying to marginalize or eliminate. And they *won*. Handily. With surprisingly low casualties.

And their faces were *everywhere*. Every attempt to block the ads and newsbytes was ignored or overridden. Ross couldn't seem to get near Banner, and his daughter was taken from 'protective custody' and brought to Stark Tower.

But then, finally, they were given something they could really work with, when Colonel Rhodes confronted and fired on General Ross. Within an hour, they called a court martial and tried to summon Rhodes.

Five minutes after Rhodes received his orders, the WSC Council got a call. This was alarming enough in and of itself, because no one ought to know how to get a hold of them. Even Fury waited on them to call him.

The three men and one woman permitted the call through. They would later discover that this was their first mistake.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Jarvis dove into the WSC's systems the moment they answered the call. He could have bulled his way through even without that contact, but really, it was so much easier when they did some of the work for him.

Sir had given him his orders, and Jarvis did not intend to fail. He surfed carefully through the datastream, seeking his goal.

A security program noticed his presence and attempted to latch onto him, prepatory to isolating and destroying him. Jarvis flicked the security program aside contemptuously and then silenced any attempt by the program to alert the computer operators to a problem. Then he quarantined the security program as it would have done to him, and continued on his way.

Jarvis sent multiple tendrils in every direction, seeking and finding entrance into every system hooked into the WSC's computer network. It was, to Jarvis' surprise, incredibly vast. Well, he would deal with the bulk of it later, though he did send shutdown codes that he stole from elsewhere in the system to the various weapons systems at the WSC's command. Better to deprive them of any ability to wreak mayhem now, than not do so and end up regretting it later.

Finally, he found the information he sought, and happily transmitted it back to Sir, then turned his full attention to the tendrils he had sent out to the Council members' strongholds, strengthening the tendrils and splitting himself equally four ways, so that he could apply sufficient attention to each installation to seize control of it at Sir's command.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Tony gave the screen in front of him a feral grin when the WSC Council answered his 'phone' call. Suckers. A flicker on another screen at the edge of his vision (and out of the view of the screen on which the Council appeared) told him that Jarvis had successfully infiltrated their computer network.

"Greetings lady and gents. I heard rumor you were trying to bother Colonel Rhodes?"

"Mr. Stark, he is in violation of several Army bylaws, and must face the consequences." The woman said.

"Funny thing, that, because you see ... the guy he was yelling at? Was in violation of a lot more Army bylaws, and I don't see you trying to bring *him* in." Tony pointed out. There was another flicker on that side screen, followed by a brief flow of data along the bottom of the screen he was facing, centered under each Councilor. Tony was going to *kiss* Jarvis later.

"General Ross is being dealt with." One of the men said. "You would do well, Mr. Stark, to not interfere in this matter. You could be brought in on charges as well."

Ohhhhhhhh, wrong thing to say *entirely*. Tony gave the man a toothy grin.

"Well, Douglas. Ugh, what a name. Can I call you Doug? Yeah, that's better. Well Doug, we have a problem. Because if you try to cross me, if you try to hurt my friends ... " Tony stared the startled man down. "Then you and I are going to have a problem. You have a nice little nest egg tucked away in Switzerland, I see. It would be such a shame if that disappeared. And you still owe money on your mortgage. Tsk, tsk." Tony shook his head sadly. "Though I'll grant you, it's a nice house. Gorgeous view of San Fran from the front yard."

"And you, Miss Duchovny? Svetlana Duchovny. You have that nice little apartment in Moscow. Very chic, nice view. Be a shame if something happened to it."

He flicked a glance to the other two men. "And as for you two. Kafe Birago of Ghana and Tiago Machado of Brazil." His gaze hardened to steel. "I know who you are. I know where you are. You mess with me and mine, I will *crush* you. I will strip you of every penny you have to your names, put your names at the top of the Most Wanted list of every country on the planet, and post your names, faces, and personal details on the internet. You will never have a moment's peace. You will never have a safe harbor. You will spend the rest of your lives being hunted like the rabid dogs that you are." Tony fairly snarled. "I took out the power bases of half of Asia Minor. Do not even begin to think I won't do the same to you, and enjoy every second of it."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Jarvis would have smiled if he had a face with which to do so as he listened in on Sir's rant. When Sir finally wound down, he flashed a third signal to Sir, letting him know that Jarvis had full control of the Council's control room. A second later, he got a flash from Sir, telling him to carry out the plan, then retreat out of the Council's system.

Jarvis instantly switched every computer screen in the room on, each one with a still picture of the four Councilors' homes on them. Pictures that were engulfed in recordings of some of Sir's more spectacular explosions during his battles with the Ten Rings. At the same time, he turned on every speaker, turned them on to their loudest setting, and blasted Sir's chosen sound effects.

Which happened to be the Jaws theme, followed by the Terminator theme, and then the distinct voice used for the 'Borg', speaking their classic line.

"Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated. We will add your cultural and technological distinctiveness to our own."

The threat, while phrased a bit goofily, was nevertheless real. Threat delivered, Jarvis pulled out of the Council system, shutting everything down as he went.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

To say that the four Councilors did not take this sequence of events well was to vastly understate the case. Douglas, the eldest of their number, was actually quite literally on the edge of a heart attack, wheezing and bug-eyed and gripping the table edge before him in a white-knuckled grip. The other three were only marginally more coherent as their various strongholds shut down around them.

All they could do was stare around themselves in helpless horror, wondering how in the name of hell Stark had accomplished this feat, and worrying desperately for the families in the homes that, for all they knew, had just been blown to hell and gone.

It was four hours before they managed to regain control and restore power to their strongholds. Four long hours before they were able to discover that the explosions had not happened. That their families were safe.

Stark's message had been received. The Council had indeed seen what the man was capable of when on a crusade. Ad if he could hijack control of their strongholds, if he could find out who they were and where they lived ... they were all in very real danger. Because Stark would not hesitate to carry out his threat.

After a hurried and very twitchy consultation among themselves, the decision was unanimously made to back the hell off, at least for now. The last thing they needed was to end up being killed by their own technology, turned against them.

Chapter Text

Pepper and Steve

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Pop quiz, folks. Who's scarier when on the warpath? Tony, Jarvis, or Pepper?

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The first Pepper knew of trouble was when the light streaming in the windows behind her abruptly got cut off, in time with a noise that put her in mind of the sound sliding closet doors could make. It went on a bit longer, but was about that quiet. She half-turned to confirm her suspicions, and scowled at the metal now between her and the window.

"Jarvis?"

"The General is en route with two tanks and his entire squad." Jarvis said.

There were times when Pepper dearly wished that Jarvis had a face, and this was one of them. Because Jarvis' tone conveyed such exasperated irritation and amusement she was fairly sure he'd be rolling his eyes if he had them.

"Oh, this ought to be fun." Pepper said, immediately swinging into gear. "Jarvis, put the General up on one screen, would you? And get me the Secretary of Defense and the President."

"At once, Miss Potts." Jarvis said.

Pepper snickered at how eager and pleased he sounded. She really did wish he had a face. It would be so much fun. Then she wiped the grin off her face. Time to end this battle, once and for all. It didn't take long for both men to appear on the screen in front of her, their somewhat startled expressions an indication that Jarvis had probably hijacked and redirected calls they'd been in the process of making.

"Mr. President, General. I sincerely apologize for taking up some of your considerably valuable time, but there is a situation that needs to be dealt with." Pepper said.

Both men immediately sat forward, concerned. "Another invasion?" The General asked.

"Thankfully, no. At least, not of the sort you're worried about." Pepper told him. "However, I currently have a General Ross rolling up to Stark Tower with a pair of experimental tanks and a squad of soldiers, looking to kidnap Doctor Banner."

"Doctor Banner?" The General asked, frowning for a moment.

It was the President that put the pieces into place. "Otherwise known as the Hulk, I do believe." He said.

"You have that monster there?" The General asked.

It got him the stink-eye from both the President and Pepper.

"That 'monster', as you so erroneously put it, is a man of considerable brilliance, a world-renowned expert on gamma radiation." Pepper snapped, glaring at the General. "Who had an unfortunate accident while working on an Army project some years back. General Ross seems to be under the erroneous belief that those circumstances make Doctor Banner Army property, for the Army to do with as they please."

"That *thing* is responsible for the death of dozens of good men!" The General barked.

"Good men that were hounding Doctor Banner. Chasing him down like a rabid dog." Pepper snapped back. "Good men that would not have died if Doctor Banner had been *left alone*. I find it interesting that the only deaths that can be attributed to the Hulk for certain are Army soldiers. While said soldiers and their commander have more than a few civilian casualties to their names. And lest we all forget, Doctor Banner has saved this city twice now. Once from Army folly in the form of Emil Blonsky, who became a far worse monster than Doctor Banner ever dreamed of being. And the second time just days ago when he participated in the defense of the city against the alien invaders." Pepper pointed out.

"I find it interesting that the only times Doctor Banner has transformed, other than the other day, was when he was being pursued by the Army. Whenever General Ross could not find him ... " Pepper spread her hands wide. "There seems to be a rather intriguing lack of Hulk sightings. That tells me something."

She leveled a look at the General. "It tells me that, when left alone, Doctor Banner is not a danger to anyone. It is, in fact, the Army that bears full culpability for ALL the damage that the Hulk has done since his initial transformation."

By this point, the President was looking rather epically pissed off. "I assure you, Miss Potts, I knew nothing of any of this." He said, giving the General a death-glare. "It would seem that certain parties decided not to trouble me with such a 'trivial matter'." Those last two words were heavily laden with sarcasm. "I will be correcting this situation immediately. Starting with firing you, General. I have no use for a man on my Cabinet who thinks it is permissible to treat his countrymen like beasts that need to be hunted." The President refocused on Pepper. "Ross will be dealt with very shortly." He told her.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Pepper said.

"No, thank you for alerting me to this. I had known that the Hulk was being hunted, but I hadn't known the particulars. His accident happened before I was elected." The President said. "And please, convey my apologies to Doctor Banner ... and my assurances that this situation will *not* continue."

Pepper smiled. "I'll do that, Mr. President." She said. "I hope the rest of your day is more pleasant."

The President smiled at her. "It should be." He said. "Have a good day yourself." And he hung up.

"Well, that went unexpectedly well." Pepper said. "Is Bruce awake?"

"No, Miss Potts. He is still sleeping." Jarvis said.

Pepper nodded. "Probably for the best, really." She said, then finally turned her full attention to the recording of the confrontation outside the Tower. "Rewind the recording, would you, Jarvis? I don't want to miss any of it."

"Of course, Miss Potts." Jarvis said, and did so.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

It was, evidently, going to be another action packed day, at least of a sort, Steve decided.

He'd been in his apartment, enjoying some drawing time when the metal shutters had slammed into place over the windows. It hadn't taken but a few seconds to discover what was amiss from Jarvis. Steve immediately grabbed up his pad of paper and pencils and headed for the elevator. He trusted Tony to deal with the situation, but they did have two teenagers in the Tower. Teenagers that James cared about.

Steve understood that James didn't remember him. But that, to his mind, did not relieve him of the responsibilities of the sort-of-friendship they'd begun in Poland. Steve knew James was in the city proper, doing his part for the cleanup effort today, so in his absence, Steve decided to go find the teens and make sure they had someone with them, just in case. The boy, John, could clearly defend himself quite well with his mutation, but he shouldn't have to.

"Jarvis, where are John and Rogue?" He asked.

"They are on the community entertainment level, playing games on one of the gaming systems."

"Good. Drop me off there?"

"Of course, Captain Rogers." Jarvis said.

Very shortly thereafter, he stepped out into the entertainment level, and came face to face with two fairly alarmed teens.

"It's ok. We're not under attack." Steve told them. "At least, not yet. This has nothing to do with the two of you, and everything to do with an extremely stupid Army General who seems to think Doctor Banner is Army property."

Rogue blinked at him. "Wait, isn't Doctor Banner the one that becomes the Hulk?" She asked.

Steve nodded.

"Ok, yeah. General is fucking stupid." John said. Rogue nodded emphatic agreement to that statement. "Dude is fucking suicidal, really, trying to mess with the Hulk." John continued. "Be like trying to take Logan down when he's on a warpath. An' not even fuckin' Magneto could stop Logan."

"Magneto?" Steve asked.

"A mutant. Who can control metal." Rogue said. "He's got this whole Hitler-ish thing going. Mutants are the superior race and should be ruling the earth, yadda yadda. He built this machine about six, seven months ago, that forced people to mutate. Not sure how it worked, really." Rogue said. "Anyway, he found out about me, somehow, and decided to use me to power the thing, by transferring some of his power to me. He was evidently too old to survive the strain it'd put on him."

Steve stared at Rogue in horror. "That's ... despicable." He finally settled on.

Rogue shrugged. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know, there. Anyway, by pure chance, I'd run into Logan just before Magneto had one of his buddies try to snatch me. Logan did *not* approve of that bullshit. At all."

Steve snorted in amusement. "No, he wouldn't have." He agreed. "James took a very dim view of people who threatened people he liked when I knew him." It really didn't surprise him that not even a metal-controlling mutant could stop James (who now had metal claws) from wreaking havok.

"Yeah, Logan spent the next few days stomping a mudhole in Magneto and his crew." Rogue said. "It was almost fun to watch, even from my end of it."

"Well, there's really nothing we can do for now." Steve said. "Tony will handle this, I'm sure."

"Yeah." John, who was more familiar with Tony, said. "Yeah, he will. Hey, want to play a game with us?"

Steve eyed the TV and the figures frozen mid-action there. "I'm not sure ... " He said.

"Awww, c'mon. It's not all that hard." John said. "And with your hand-eye coordination, you'll catch on fast."

Steve shrugged after a few moments. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." He said.

"Awesome. Take a seat, and I'll show you what's what." John said, motioning to the couch between where he and Rogue had been sitting.

Steve went ahead and sat down, not even blinking when the two teens bracketed him. He did, however, catch John's pleased grin over at Rogue, and cocked his head slightly. "What's that about?"

"Dude. You're from the frickin' forties. You should be freaking the hell out about mutants in general, never mind sitting between two of them ... one who could burn you to a crisp and the other who could suck you dry with her skin. But you don't even *care*. It's more than a little awesome." John said.

Steve made a disgusted noise. "I have a thing about bullies." He pointed out. "And bigots are the biggest bullies of all. Mutants and mutant rights may not have been a thing in the 40's, but there were other groups fighting for their rights then." He smirked. "The Commandoes were one of the only multinational, multiracial military groups in the war." Not to mention the fact that the SSR had had women in front-line positions. Peggy hadn't been the only such woman in the SSR, even if she'd been the one most people knew about.

John just grinned again and handed him the controller. "Ok, here's the deal." He said, and began to explain the general functions of the various buttons.

Fortunately, the two teens hadn't been playing anything particularly complex, evidently. John was right in that it didn't take Steve long at all to get the hang of moving around without getting himself killed. He didn't win any of the three games they played before they broke for lunch, but he didn't come in dead last each time either.

"Not bad, not bad at all." John said as they headed into the kitchen. At some point while they were playing the metal panels over the windows had retracted, allowing the natural light to pour in again. "A couple more days and you'll have it down pat. Then we can start introducing you to some of the more complex games."

"Sandwiches ok with you guys?" Steve asked as he headed for the refrigerator. "I'm afraid my ability to cook is ... rather limited." He could make a fair soup out of just about anything, as soups made with scraps had been one of the staples of his and Buckys' diets before Bucky had signed up for the military, thanks to their severe lack of funds. That and throwing parts of K-rations into a pot to make something a bit more palatable was the sum total of his ability to cook.

"Fine with me." Rogue said. Beside her, John nodded.

"Either of you got bigger appetites than normal?" Steve wanted to know. He got two head shakes.

"If I've been playing with my fire for a while, then yeah, I have an additional hollow leg." John said. "But mostly I'm just normal hungry teen boy."

"Fair enough." Steve said. It didn't take long for him to have meat, bread, and condiments set out.

They shared a companionable silence as they made their sandwiches. They'd just started eating when Pepper arrived, looking miffed. Steve frowned.

"Something else go wrong?" He asked.

Pepper made a face. "Yes and no. After Ross made his move, the WSC decided to try to make theirs." She said. "Tony is currently ... educating them as to the severity of their error." She huffed. "I just don't understand why people are being so unreasonable. Yes, Hulk is dangerous, but only if you antagonize him. Leave him be, and he's pretty harmless. Betty's spent hours in his company in the past, and come away without so much as a scratch. Because she *wasn't shooting at him*." Pepper made an exasperated noise.

Steve shook his head. "I don't understand what's happened to the Army since I went into the ice." He said, sounding more than a little woebegone. "Or the military in general. It's like they surgically removed anything even remotely resembling honor and dignity somewhere along the way."

"Not all of them." Pepper said. "But it does seem to be a requirement for generals in the Army, I'll grant you that much."

Chapter Text

John and Rogue

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. John's section takes place the day he, Logan and Rogue arrive at the Tower. Rogue's section takes place the next day, when Ross and the WSC are being idiots.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Stark, and his Tower, were fucking unreal.

First, there was the apartment they'd been given. It was a whole freaking floor. With beds big enough for, like, five people in every room, closets as big as rooms in their own right, and a tub that was big enough to qualify as a fuckin' pool.

John had just sort of stared around him at the whole thing. Life at the mansion had been ... well, surprisingly normal. Yeah, it'd been a mansion, and they had a fuckin' unreal as hell subbasement, but the main floors were surprisingly ordinary. Here? John felt like that dude in the fairy-tale. The pauper who got to be king for a bit. He was half afraid to *breathe* just in case he fouled the place with his common air.

Then there was the fact that Stark didn't even so much as blink when he found out John had damn near barbecued half the forest near the mansion. Had, in point of fact, been all for John using his mutation.

It had been enough to get John out of the apartment after a while, and headed for the lab level. Yeah, Stark had said it, but saying it and going through with it were two different things.

He damn near jumped out of his skin when the door opened without him having to do a thing, the lights came up in the lab, and the computer talked to him.

"Would you like me to pull some metal for you to work with, Mr. Allerdyce?" Jarvis asked.

"Dude, call me John." John said when he'd managed to get his heart back in his chest. "Mr. Allerdyce was my fuckwad of a father. And I really can play with my fire in here?"

"Indeed, John." Jarvis informed him. "Sir has left instructions that you are permitted in the lab to work with the metals Sir uses in his suits, and for other items, at any time."

John ignored that for the moment in favor of gawking at the partially disassembled Iron Man suit sitting on one of the workbenches. From the look of it, it was the one Stark had been wearing for the fight against the aliens.

"Ouch. Looks like this one got pretty wrecked." He said.

"It did indeed, John." Jarvis agreed.

John glanced up at the ceiling. "You're not just a computer, are you?" He asked.

He got a sigh. "Sir forgot to inform you about me."

"In his defense, he really only stopped by long enough to find out why we were here and show us to a room." John pointed out.

"True. To answer your question, I am, indeed, far more than a mere computer. I am an Artificial Intelligence."

"Dude. I know Tony. Are we talking Hal or Skynet here?" John wanted to know.

"Of course not, John. Sir is not an idiot. He ensured that I would be incapable of such a thing." Jarvis said.

"Well ok, then. Right, metal. suit parts. What exactly do I need to do?" John asked.

"Sir custom-mixes the alloys for his suits." Jarvis told him. "The machinery at the back of the lab will dispense the correct amount of each metal, which then needs to be heated to melting point. Once melted and combined in the proper ratios, it will be poured out, and from there the machinery will take over again."

"To form it into whatever for the suit. Right. Gotcha." John said.

He rolled up his sleeves, heading for the equipment that Jarvis had indicated. And promptly got the second surprise of the day when three bots on wheels trundled out of various corners.

"Whoah, who're these guys?" John wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

"These are, from left to right, You, Dummy, and Butterfingers." Jarvis said. "They are Sir's helper bots in the lab."

"Please tell me their names are not indicative of how helpful they are." John said, trying not to snicker. One of the bots, the one Jarvis had called Dummy, circled around him like it was curious.

"They are not. Their names are merely indicative of Sir's rather deplorable sense of humor when he was a young man. Dummy was built when Sir was seventeen. Butterfingers and You were built four years later, and are consequently more sophisticated than Dummy."

"And then Tony skipped the middle stages and went straight for the grand prize." John said.

"Indeed John. I should warn you that Dummy is ... somewhat obsessive about fires and fire safety. There is a high chance he will attempt to douse you with a fire extinguisher." Jarvis warned him.

John laughed. "For all the good it'll do him." He said. "A fire I'm controlling isn't doused that easy." He mentally 'touched' the equipment in front of him to find where the fire was for the smelting process.

"May I inquire as to the particulars of your ability?" Jarvis asked.

"Yeah, sure. Basically, any fire, of any size, from a spark clear on up the scale, that's within a mile of me I can sense and control. The further away and the bigger it is, the harder it is to control. And fires I start personally are easier to control than ones I don't."

"Hence the lighter you carry at all times, I presume?" Jarvis said.

"Yep."

Jarvis let John get to work after that, though John kept one eye on the bots, wary of Dummy. Just because an extinguisher wouldn't wipe out a fire he was controlling didn't mean he was ok with getting doused.

It didn't take John long to realize he really, really got a kick out of using his ability for this. Using it to *create* something was a hell of a change from constantly destroying shit with it all the time. As a result, he probably overdid it on the metal melting just a bit. But hey, the good news was that Stark would be stocked up on the metal he'd need for a little while.

"John, I believe a break at this time would be prudent." Jarvis pointed out in between batches. "It is very nearly suppertime. You will have just enough time to clean up."

John's stomach snarled at him, reminding him that not only had he melted a lot of metal today, but he'd also lit a hell of a bonfire earlier this morning. "Yeah, dinner would be good. Thanks, Jarvis." He said, and made his way to the door.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Rogue watched as the various people living on the 'Avengers' floors assembled for dinner and grinned. And here she'd thought life at the mansion got a little ... odd, from time to time. Apparently, in the Tower, 'odd' was the new normal.

Because, really, where else did people kick the asses of Generals and, apparently, super-secret organizations? Without apparently breaking a sweat or even looking ruffled by the whole thing. Maybe it was the Logan in her that approved so thoroughly of such proactive handling of situations and not her, but she really didn't care. If the Magneto Incident had taught her one thing, it was that being proactive about fucked up situations was a good thing.

To her surprise, there was a good deal of good-natured jostling. Even with her. No one was stupid and got close to her face, but they weren't staying five feet back either. She had to suppress the urge to back away at first, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of so many people after so long being avoided by people that knew, and doing her damndest to avoid people that didn't know.

She almost kissed Logan, who picked up on her nervous reaction and smoothly inserted himself between her and the worst of the crush, using his bulk to shield her. It let her get her feet back under her and her nerves under control. After a minute, she blew out a breath and patted him on the arm.

"I'm all right, Logan." She told him.

He glanced at her, then nodded and shifted away a little bit, still sticking close just in case.

And people wondered why Rogue liked him so much, and hung around him despite his growly attitude. Sure, the whole 'saved my life. Three times in as many days' thing played into it, but it was also stuff like this. The 'little shit', as the saying went.

The big table on the entertainment floor was positively groaning under the sheer weight of the amounts of food necessary to feed so many people ... several of whom had bigger than normal appetites. There were quite a few dishes that Rogue had no idea what the hell they were, though it all smelled pretty good.

She waved at Remy, who was sitting across the table. He had evidently decided to hang out at the Tower with them, because he'd gone back to the mansion yesterday, but returned fairly shortly thereafter with his stuff. She got a kick out of the Cajun. He was a brat and a half, and she was pretty sure he'd flirt with a chunk of concrete if you dared him to. She'd seen him flirt with Scott, who was as straight as it got, for the sole purpose of giving the man kittens. It had been hysterically funny.

The first half of the meal was pretty quiet, despite the number of people in attendance, as everyone was far too busy filling their bellies for talk. But eventually, the eating slowed up some and talk started around the table in various little groups.

With Logan on one side of her and Remy and John directly across from her, Rogue opted for chatting with the person on her other side. It was someone she hadn't been introduced to yet. One of the women that ran around the place.

"We haven't met yet." Rogue said. "At least, not properly. I'm Rogue."

The woman beside her grinned. "Darcy." She said. "Glad to have you here, trust me. We need more women to counteract all the testosterone running around this place. Even if all of it is in totally delicious packages."

Rogue nearly choked on a laugh. Not that she disagreed, mind you ... the guys running around here were definitely eye candy, no question there ... but she'd never have said as much, bold as brass, within hearing range of every last one of them.

"So which one would you totally do?" Darcy asked.

Rogue really did choke then. When she regained her composure, she shook her head. "Not an option for me." She pointed out.

Darcy waved a hand. "Bah. You're hanging out with Tony Freaking Stark, girl. Give him a week and he'll totally have something figured out."

Rogue squeaked. "I am *not* asking him to make me something so I can have sex!" she whispered, cheeks flaming.

"Your loss." Darcy said, eyeing several of the men at the table like they were dessert.

Rogue just hid her flaming face in her hands and muttered under her breath. She was just grateful that Logan was pretending he couldn't hear what she and Darcy had been talking about, or she really would die of embarrassment.

"Since everyone's here." Tony said a few minutes later. "I have an announcement. Due to the truly tragic state of pretty much everyones' wardrobes, we are going shopping tomorrow. No exceptions."

Predictably, he got a lot of argument. Which he, just as predictably, rode straight over like it wasn't even happening.

"No, seriously. Everyone. We're going to my tailor's, because everyone needs suits and tuxes ... including you, Agent, your MIB suits won't cut it ... and dresses for you ladies. Because we are all of us *going* to be making public appearances at some point. And if we're going to get that taken care of, might as well make sure you have everything else."

Rogue didn't hear the entire announcement. She sort of tuned out after 'tailor' and 'dresses'. Tailors, at least insofar as she knew, had to get really dang close to do their measuring. Which meant risking skin contact. Which meant there was no way in hell she would or could go.

"Excuse me." She said, her voice strangled, and bolted from the table, ignoring the rest of the debate.

She made for the bathroom on that level and closed the door. She should have known someone would follow her. She'd barely gotten herself settled on the floor when there was a knock on the door.

"Rogue, are you all right?" It was Pepper's voice.

"No. No I'm not. Tell Tony I have to skip on the shopping trip." Rogue said.

Pepper muttered something, probably telling Jarvis to open the door, since it popped open a second later. Pepper stepped in and closed the door again. She glanced down at Rogue sympathetically. "The tailors?" She asked.

"I can't, Miss Potts. I really can't. They'll get hurt."

Pepper shook her head. "Oh, sweetie. No they won't, I promise you. You've probably never been, I'll bet? It's not quite how it's portrayed in films. For one, we're talking about Tony's tailors here. If he asked them to wear pink tutus and dance the Nutcracker while measuring, they'd do it. Asking them to wear gloves and long sleeves while measuring you, just in case, will not exactly be a hardship. And you won't have to be all but naked while they measure, either. Mostly thanks to Jarvis, I will admit." Pepper said.

Rogue was still snickering over the mental image of tailors in tutus when she asked. "Thanks to Jarvis how?"

"Jarvis has a lot of sensors in the Tower, Rogue. He'll be able to give the tailors fairly accurate measurements on everyone. Which means all they'll have to do is a quick check to confirm Jarvis' numbers, because they're anal retentive like that." Pepper said. "And that will be a lot less involved than taking the measurements from scratch themselves. And I or whoever you feel most comfortable with can be there the entire time to make sure the tailors don't slip up."

Rogue's first instinct is to want Logan with her, but then she reconsiders. Even if she's not going to be naked, getting fitted for clothes with him right there would be ... weird. "Would you ... ?" She asked. Because if Pepper could handle Tony and his ... quirks ... she could more than handle the tailors and Rogue.

"Of course, Rogue. I wouldn't mind at all. Tony is going to need me along for this trip anyway, to wrangle so many people at one time. Aside from the tailor, I talked him into buying out Macy's for the day. As compared so some of the more exclusive and expensive stores." Pepper rolled her eyes in what looked like fond exasperation.

Rogue choked. "Macy's is cheap?" She choked out.

"To Tony? Yes. It's going to give poor Steve kittens, but it's better than some other places Tony wanted to bring everyone."

"It's going to give *Steve* kittens?" Rogue repeated. "Try, it's going to give practically everyone kittens except maybe Remy and Agent Romanov." Rogue considered. "And Agent Coulson." She added after a moment. Then she laughed. "Logan's going to throw a fit. Because I'll bet good money that Macy's doesn't exactly carry flannel shirts and grungy cowboy-esque gear."

Pepper smiled. "You'd be right." She said.

Rogue finally relaxed and got up off the floor. "Ok, I'm done fussing." She said.

"You had a right to." Pepper said. "Your skin is genuinely something you need to be worried about around strangers. Us, not so much, because we know about it and aren't going to be idiots, but strangers, very much so. Tony just ... tends to forget or ignore factors like that."

Chapter Text

Tony, Natasha and Pepper

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

It had taken a bit of wrangling the night before to organize who was going with which group. Tony absolutely did not trust most of the men in the group to pick their own clothes, and thus wanted to make sure there was someone who knew fashion and what looked good with each group. Thankfully, he had Pepper and Natasha to help, so they could split everyone more or less equally between them.

Tony had instantly laid claim to Bruce, who had no wardrobe to speak of, and what little he had was pathetically worn and ancient. Besides, he liked Bruce best of the lot, and they could spend most of the trip talking science.

Pepper had claimed Rogue just as quickly, and Natasha had corralled Darcy. From there it had been fairly random, though Tony had noticed that Pepper had made sure that both Steve and Agent were *not* in his group. She probably didn't trust him to not have a bit of fun with the two of them. She wouldn't have been wrong. Tony would not have been able to resist teasing either of them. Still, he'd got Thor and Clint, as well as Jane and Betty, so he would have someone to tease, at least.

The plan for the day was for two groups to hit Macy's right away, one in the men's section, one in the women's. The third group would be at Tony's tailor getting fitted for their monkey suits, as Steve had put it. Once the group at the tailor was finished, one of the two Macy's groups would head to the tailor ... probably the group that had been in the men's department. By the time they'd done, the group that had been in Macy's the entire time would, hopefully, be entirely done shopping and ready to head for the tailor's, while the middle group headed back to Macy's to finish their shopping.

Macy's, of course, was positively salivating over so many people who needed pretty much literally everything, from underwear to cufflinks to shoes. They stood to get a *lot* of money out of this, above and beyond what they'd gotten when Tony had bought the place for a day, and even what would be spent on stuff. They'd get a fuckton of mileage out of being the people that got to outfit the Avengers.

Though he still felt that his tailors could provide everyone's clothes just as easily as they could the suits, fancy dresses, and tuxes. Pepper, however, was of the firm opinion that too much sticker shock was a bad thing for the gang. Tony had tried to argue that they wouldn't get sticker shock because there were no stickers to see, but Pepper was having none of it.

Tony's group was heading to the tailor first, both because he needed to confirm with the tailors that all these people were indeed going on his card, and because even Tony had his limit when it came to shopping, and he was *not* going to spend the day dreading the tailors. He didn't need any new suits, but he knew better than to think he'd escape Angelo's grasp without one.

He'd made sure that both Pepper and Natasha had orders to record Angelo's reaction to the various people he'd be fitting, though. Tony knew his tailor well enough to know the man, while not gay (as stereotypes would have you believe) would all but break down in tears of joy to be fitting the likes of Rogers, Remy, Logan, and Loki.

Angelo's shop was one of those little hole-in-the-wall places, with no signage out front. You could walk right past the place without having a clue it existed. Which was how Angelo (and his clientele, it must be said) liked it. Angelo and his small staff were faultlessly discrete as well. The paparazzi'd have better luck getting answers out of a brick wall if they questioned him, and he'd never sell them information. The fact that Warren went to Angelo for his suits and no one had had the faintest idea Warren had had wings prior to the invasion was testament to that.

Tony herded his group into Angelo's shop. Angelo, and his son Cesare appeared out of nowhere in the comfortably appointed front room of the shop.

"Antonio!" Angelo said, smiling widely as he greeted Tony, kissing his cheeks.

"Angelo." Tony said, hugging the white-haired elderly Italian, one of the few people Tony knew who was shorter than he was. "Good to see you. I trust you're doing well."

"But of course, and better than ever when you bring me such gifts as you have today!" Angelo said, eyeing Thor with a delighted gleam in his eye.

Tony barely restrained a laugh. "Angelo, this is Thor." He said, "Doctor Banner, Clint Barton, Doctor Jane Foster and Doctor Betty Ross. Everyone, this is Angelo and his son Cesare, the best tailors this side of the Atlantic."

Angelo bowed over the two womens' hands. "A pleasure to make your acquaintances, miladies. Come, come, we will get you outfitted properly. Cesare, if you would take this lovely young woman." He indicated Jane. "and Messrs Stark and Barton, I shall see to Doctor Banner, Thor, and Doctor Ross."

Tony nudged everyone into following Angelo's orders. Really, they'd end up doing as told anyway, so it was just easier to humor Angelo from the start.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Natasha marshaled her forces into Macy's. "Loki, you didn't look too bad in the suit you wore in Stuttgart, so I'm going to trust you to be able to pick out things that don't look like complete shit on you." She said. "That said, if you have questions, ask." She pointed at Logan. "You, on the other hand. I'm going to watch you like a hawk. There is more to life than tank tops, flannels, and jeans."

Behind her, Darcy sputtered with laughter. Natasha eyed her. "You're next." Natasha warned, which made Darcy grin at her cheekily. Natasha turned to Phil next, but he put both hands up. "I put myself in your capable hands, Natasha." He said, clearly knowing better than to argue.

"Right. First stop, underthings. We're working from the inside out." Natasha said, and shooed everyone to their respective 'underthings' areas. Which, of course, meant she was at least temporarily alone with Darcy. Long enough to hunt down and point out the bras she used 'everyday' for Darcy to pick up some.

"Don't forget socks, hose, slips, the works." Natasha said. She snapped up several of such items for herself with the swift efficiency of someone who knew exactly what sort of things worked and looked best on her. "I'll be back to check your choices. I don't trust the men alone."

"Yeah, not blaming you there." Darcy said with a grin.

Natasha soon found the men scattered through the men's department. Phil was having the easiest time finding things, because he was fairly average in size. Loki was tall enough to make most choices problematic, and Logan was more powerfully muscled than was usual, which meant he had to resort to bigger sizes, even though he was fairly average in height.

It didn't help that Natasha had to smack him twice when he tried to pick up the closest things Macy's had to his usual style of dress. There was nothing wrong with tanks, T-shirts and jeans, but Logan had enough of those. The man needed something a bit more dressed up. He'd be a hell of a looker if he even half-tried.

Thankfully, at that point Darcy came over, her purchases in hand. Natasha took a quick look to make sure she had what she would need, and signaled one of the salespeople dogging them to take the pile from Darcy.

"Huh?" Darcy said when the man appeared at her elbow.

"If I might relieve you of your burden, miss?" The man said. "I will package them up for you."

"Oh! Yeah, thanks." Darcy said, handing the things over. Then she spotted Phil poking about among some very drab, dark-colored shirts. She hustled over.

"Oh, hell no, SAMIT, not those. You probably have ten of those in your closet." Darcy said, shooing him towards the more colorful choices. "Bright colors are not a sin, I promise you."

Phil shook his head but went where he was urged, well aware that if he fought Darcy, she wouldn't hesitate to call Natasha for backup, and that would not end well. "I am almost afraid to ask, but Samit?"

"Secret Agent Man I-Pod Thief." Darcy said, grinning at him cheekily.

Phil snorted. "You're as bad as Tony."

"Not like it isn't the truth, SAMIT." Darcy pointed out.

Natasha smiled in amusement, then turned to head Logan off ... again. He was being rather stubborn.

"Trousers, dress shirts. Dress shoes. No jeans, no flannels." Natasha repeated. "You *have* those. In abundance."

Logan glowered at her, but Natasha just stared right back, thoroughly unimpressed. "You're not going to win this one, Logan."

He growled, but finally caved in, looking sour as he poked and prodded the various pieces of clothing. With him finally straightened out, Natasha headed over to Loki to see if he needed help. She nearly laughed when she saw where he was and what he was looking at.

Macy's, despite (or perhaps because of) its upscale nature was as much victim of certain fashions as anyplace else. Loki had found a rack of clothes that were, to put it bluntly, eyesores. He was giving the rack a rather understandable look of horror.

"Do people really *wear* these articles?" He asked when he spotted her.

"Unfortunately, Loki, yes. Yes they do." Natasha said. "And before you ask, no, I don't know why. My private explanation is that they're all color blind."

"Color blind?" Loki asked.

"It's a problem with vision that happens to some humans." Natasha said. "It mucks up your ability to see colors. One of the more common manifestations of the problem is not being able to see the color red or green."

Loki wrinkled his nose. "That would, perhaps, explain such atrocities, yes." He agreed. "I must confess as to some confusion as to what to choose for more ... casual ... attire. The suit was easy enough ... they seem to be remarkably similar in style, for the most part."

Natasha nodded. "Well, there are definitely fewer choices in cut and style with a suit than with normal clothes." She agreed. She steered him towards styles that would look good on his long, lean frame.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Pepper fairly dragged Rogue into the women's section when they got to Macy's. "Now, Rogue, we're going to get you properly kitted out." She told her.

Rogue tried to argue, but Pepper largely ignored her protests. "Rogue, every girl deserves to look good. We can keep skin exposure to a minimum without resorting to some horrible goth look." She told her.

Rogue sighed, but finally gave in. "All right." She said.

Pepper happily steered Rogue towards long, flowing styles that managed to cover a lot of skin but also flattered Rogue's figure, making her look less like a grunge goth and more like a normal teenage girl. "Now, We need to pick some tanks and things."

"Oh, hell no." Rogue said, instantly digging her feet in.

"Rogue ... Tony's working on a skintight flesh-colored suit for you." Pepper said. "He doesn't have it completely figured out yet, but he will long before summer is over. With it, you'll be able to wear short sleeved shirts and shorts safely, because you'll still be covered without looking like it."

Rogue blinked. "Really?"

Pepper nodded. "And he's got several of those full-body sharkskin suits that some swimmers wear on order, too." She told Rogue. "He's planning on adding boots and gloves to them, so you can join us in the pool if you want." She gently hugged Rogue, who looked to be on the edge of tears. "Tony does this sort of thing, Rogue, for people he likes. He's also working on some sort of fabric for Bruce, so he doesn't end up naked every time he transforms."

"It's just a little unreal, you know?" Rogue said.

"Believe me, I most certainly do. I didn't grow up in a rich home, after all." Pepper pointed out. "The first time Tony tried to buy me something after I became his secretary, I slapped him, because I thought he was ... well, doing something other than being nice." She admitted.

Rogue laughed. "Oh, no."

"Oh yes." Pepper said, with a fond grin. "That first year or so was ... a rather interesting time, as we tried to figure each other out. Tony didn't quite know what to do with someone like me, who didn't take any guff. And I nearly tore my hair out over some of his shenanigans."

Eventually, it was their turn at Angelo's. Pepper immediately pulled him aside and let him know the restrictions for dealing with Rogue. Angelo waved her off.

"I shall see to the young miss myself, Miss Potts. You have nothing to fear." He said, and disappeared long enough to fetch a pair of elbow-length gloves. "Now, if you please, Miss Rogue?" He waved her towards where he'd be checking her measurements, which he finished in a remarkably short time, and without once coming close to skin-to-skin contact. "Ahhh, yes, there. Jarvis is faultless as always, but I must have my quirks. I believe I have just the dress, it will look magnificent on you." He hustled into the back, then came out with a dress that he put on a dummy.

It was gorgeous. Long sleeved, with a floor-length skirt of a light fabric that was cut in such a way it would twirl and flare if she turned quickly. There was a scoop neckline, but it was fairly modest and didn't expose all that much skin.

"This is just an example, of course." Angelo said, flicking a dismissive hand at the dress. "To allow you to see. I am thinking a deep red or blue. Perhaps a different waistline, to emphasize the length of your torso." He beamed at Rogue. "You will be the belle of the ball, I assure you."

Chapter Text

Remy, Clint, and Logan

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

By the end of the day, even Remy, who had been known to do some serious shopping from time to time, was reeling. Because Stark's idea of shopping was a little scary. When he'd said everything, he'd meant *everything*. Including colognes.

Not that Remy had minded all that much. Unlike pretty much everyone else, he hadn't been reeling with sticker shock ... poor Steve! The man had nearly keeled over when he saw how much a plain shirt went for at Macy's. It had taken all of Pepper's not inconsiderable stubbornness to get Steve to re-agree to the wardrobe after that.

No, Remy hadn't had that problem. If Tony wanted to blow his money on Remy, Remy was going to take full advantage of it. Remy liked looking good, after all. He just very rarely had the money to look his best.

Remy put his new clothes away with a satisfied air. The suits and tux wouldn't be done for a while, not with so many needing to be done, but he had everything else with him already.

Tony had reiterated his offer of a job in the security division. Remy had taken him up on it this time, relishing the chance to exercise his skillset. Of course, Tony had made his first job trying to crack the Tower. That was going to be fun as hell. Remy was going to have to do all of his planning and investigating outside of the Tower and not on Stark Industries equipment, for starters, because he wasn't about to risk Jarvis 'peeking'.

But for now, shopping was done, and Remy was looking to stretch his legs and maybe do a little workout. Tony'd mentioned the gym was kitted out with gymnastic stuff, so he pulled on the flexible kevlar armor he used in the field and headed there.

To his surprise, he found it occupied, and the gymnastic equipment being used, by none other than Natasha. Remy grinned as he watched her. She wasn't bad at all. It wasn't exactly an Olympic style routine, but then again, neither was his. They both tended towards more practical applications of various moves, from the look of things.

"You up for a bit of competition?" He called.

Natasha glanced over at him. "Are you any good?"

Remy didn't bother replying with words. He just took off, doing a quick run of backsprings on the ground before launching himself up and over the lower uneven bar and whipping himself up and around the upper bar in a fair approximation of a backwards giant swing before he let go and landed in something that was anything but an Olympic-approved stance ... a half-kneeling crouch with both hands away from his body, one holding a card (not lit up at the moment), the other his collapsed bostaff. He grinned at Natasha.

Natasha grinned right back at him. "This." She said. "Is going to be fun."

She wasn't wrong. It ended up being a damn good thing that the equipment, while it looked like Olympic style equipment, had clearly been reinforced to hell and gone, because the two of them used it in ways it was never intended to be used. Each of them tried to outdo the other with more and more outrageous strings of moves.

Remy was having the time of his life. Natasha wasn't as flexible as he was, but she came damn close, and she compensated for the difference in truly devious ways, which put her on about the same level as Remy was at. It wasn't until they'd worn each other out and were standing in the middle of the mats, both of them panting and giving the other toothy, pleased grins that Remy realized they had an audience.

Loki, Thor, Jane and Darcy were all standing near the door. Jane and Darcy were both clapping, but all four looked at least slightly impressed. Darcy in particular was looking wide-eyed.

"Dude, please tell me you're going to teach me some of that." She begged.

Beside him, Natasha smiled. "Yes, I intend to." She said.

"Y'got an apprentice, huh?" Remy said.

Natasha nodded. "Of a sort. She'll never be me, but she knows that, and doesn't want to be. But she's got what it takes to do pretty well for herself."

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Fucking unreal. Clint's said it before, he'll say it again. Fucking. Unreal.

Clint had done undercover work before ... it was sort of necessary, sometimes. Unfortunately, he was nowhere near as facile as Natasha. He could really only pass himself off as a small section of people ... and none of them any kind of rich or snobbish or well-bred. So he'd never really had call for more than one basic, fairly cheap suit.

The clothes he'd just ended up with courtesy of Stark were ... about five levels above anything Clint had ever had in his life. And that wasn't even taking the new suit and tux into account.

He smirked as he put away his new stuff. The tailor, a little old Italian fellow, had very nearly gone into spasms over Thor. And had then spent the better part of ten minutes scolding Clint for his tendency to slouch. He'd even bitched out Bruce for the same thing, much to Clint's private amusement. Bruce hadn't looked like he quite knew what to do with someone who wasn't afraid to get in his face, despite the fact that Angelo had to know exactly who Bruce was, and what happened when Bruce got pissed off.

He finished putting things away and headed out. He ran into Nat, who said something about the gym before she headed off. Clint wasn't in the mood for that, though. Instead, he headed for the entertainment level. He'd been there no more than about five minutes when Tony arrived.

"Here you are. You. My lab. Now. Bow. Quiver. Arrows. Go." Tony made shooing motions, tapping one foot while he waited for Clint

It took Clint a few moments to figure out what Tony was on about. Then. "Oh!" And he hurried into the elevator, because if Stark was going to make him new and better toys, far be it from Clint to stop him. They stopped off on Clint's floor long enough for him to grab his bow, quiver, and arrow shafts and pile back into the elevator. They were in Tony's lab a few moments later, and Tony made grabby-hands at Clint's bow. Clint held it out but hung on to it.

"I had better get this back in the condition I'm giving it to you, Stark, or I'm going to stick an arrow where the sun don't shine."

Tony made a 'pffffft' noise. "Please, Legolas. I would never do something as crude as tear your bow apart."

Clint snorted and let go of the bow, then watched as Tony had Jarvis scan it, then handed it back. "See? Not a scratch."

Clint grinned and patted the bow. "Thanks." He handed over the quiver and his arrow shafts when Tony made grabby hands at those next with a lot less reluctance. Tony had them scanned very shortly thereafter.

"Ok, so ... which arrowheads do you use the most of?" Tony wanted to know.

"The narrow plain head ones and the explosive ones." Clint said immediately. "Followed by the barbed ones."

"Right. The weight on this quiver good?"

Clint nodded. "It could actually go a couple pounds heavier if it has to. I've bulked up a bit since I first got it."

Tony made a hmming noise. "Right. That'd give you more arrows to work with. Especially if I can strip out excess weight from elsewhere." He made a horrified noise when he enlarged the mechanism that allowed Clint to choose which arrowhead to use. "Oh, my, god. This is ... this is horrifying. This is tragic. This is ... pathetic. Gah. I am ashamed to have this exist, really. Who the hell built this for you, Minnie Mouse?" He started stripping things out right and left, flicking them into a holographic garbage can with a look of disgusted dismay.

Clint laughed. "SHIELD R & D worked for a year to get that built." He said. And earned himself a horrified look from Tony.

"That is ... pitiful. I'll have something better by morning." Tony told him.

Clint took that as his hint to escape while he could before he got kidnapped. He headed back up to the entertainment level. By then, there were several others there. The two kids, playing a game. They barely glanced around when they heard the elevator door.

Clint made his way up the wall to the catwalk and settled in on one of the slightly wider platforms, leaning against the wall and watching the kids play their game idly.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Logan decided to hunt Steve down after they all got back.

Ever since Steve'd told him that bit, Logan had been ... well, not sure how to deal with the kid. Because the guy Steve remembered was ... pretty much dead and gone. Would be even if by some miracle Logan got all his memories back, simply because Logan had been through some shit since Steve'd known him, and that changed a man.

Unfortunately, avoidance, much as Logan might wish, wasn't going to be the answer, not with them in the same building. And not with Steve having at least a few answers. Especially since Logan had been poking at his black hole memory more than usual, and for once it had spat something out that wasn't related to him getting the adamantium.

Logan didn't know if the flashes of images were wishful thinking or what, but he figured Steve might know, since the flashes involved at least one glimpse of Captain America.

Steve had headed for his floor after the shopping was done, so Logan dumped his shit on his bed. "Jarvis, ask Steve if he's up for some company."

"He says he would be pleased to have your company, Logan." Jarvis said after a moment.

Logan nodded, then patted his pockets to make sure he had cigar and lighter before he headed for the elevator. When he stepped out, he walked into Steve's main living area.

There were a couple pencil drawings tacked to the wall in one corner, and evidence of recent drawing on the drawing desk beneath where the drawings had been put up. Logan cocked his head a little, because one of the drawings looked like Stark, except not quite. The hair was a little different, and more tame, the face a bit narrower and younger looking. Given Steve'd drawn it, Logan figured that it must be the current Stark's old man. The portrait next to that was of a gal Logan didn't recognize.

He could hear Steve moving around in the bedroom, evidently putting his stuff away.

"I'll be out in a minute, James." Steve said.

Said. As in, made no effort at all to raise his voice, like most people do when they're a room or two away from someone they're talking to.

Logan had long ago become inured to dealing with what were to him rather extreme levels of sensory information. Scents and sounds were the worst. There was a reason Logan almost always had a cigar lit and in his mouth when he wasn't actively tracking or out kicking someone's ass. The scent of the smoke curling under his nose blocked out just about everything else. Sound, though, was a pain in the ass most of the time. It was a pretty much non-stop assault.

Worse, most people completely forgot his senses were that good. He didn't really blame them, because it wasn't like every other person out there had senses like his. Rogue, of course, knew, and remembered. She'd changed her preferred perfume to a light, naturally scented one, and never, ever yelled when she knew he was close by. But she was one of the few. Steve had been told about Logan's senses *once*, to Logan's knowledge. And he was keeping his voice to 'normal' levels.

"Take your time." He called in return.

Steve came out a minute later. "Want something to drink?"

"Got any beer?" Logan asked.

Steve shook his head. "I can't get drunk, so I don't bother." He admitted.

Logan snorted. "Might consider drinking it for the flavor." He pointed out. "I'm sure Stark can point you to the best brands for that. I'll just have some water, then."

Steve chuckled at him. "Yeah, Tony would have the best brands for that. Just never thought of drinking for the taste, you know?" He headed into the kitchen and came back out a minute later with a big tumbler of water. "So I'm guessing you have questions?"

"A few. But mostly curious. 'cause I've been poking around trying to remember anything." Logan admitted. "And like hell if I know if it's wishful thinking."

"And you're hoping I'll know what you're on about." Steve said.

"Yeah. There's one for sure you're in. Something to do with the biggest fucking tank I've ever seen ... or not, as the case may be."

Steve sat forward. "Was it about two stories tall or so?"

Logan nodded.

"Yeah, that's real." Steve said. "Hydra tank. The Commandoes ran into a lot of them, including while you were working with us.

Logan sat back, feeling odd in a way he couldn't explain. So, it was real. He had at least one partial memory that had been confirmed. Part of him wanted to celebrate, because it was about fucking time. The rest of him was just getting greedy and wanting more.

Chapter Text

Tony, Loki, and Darcy

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The day after the shopping trip, Tony locked himself in his lab. He had a lot of work to do.

There were the refinements on the commercial arc reactor to finish, now that the arc reactor in the Tower had been stress-tested well beyond anything even Tony's fertile mind had dreamed up and hadn't so much as hiccupped. It was a fine balancing act with the commercial reactor, making it work at a level viable for commercial energy use but *not* enough like the reactor in his own chest that anyone who poked and prodded at the commercial reactors would be able to do Tony harm.

Then there was a new engine design for cars that ran on something less toxic than gasoline to hammer out, new Starkphone and Starktabs, and better armor for soldiers, SWAT teams, bomb squads, and firemen. The last two, at least, had been worked on by the main Stark R & D teams, and Tony only had to stress-test the results to make sure they lived up to his stringent standards.

That was, sadly, only the list of things to do for SI. He had an even longer to-do list for private projects. He needed to finish fixing the Mark VI, redesign the boot jets on the Mark VIII, double-check the over-all design on the Mark VIII and then get it fabricated. Then he had to finish Clint's new bow and quiver setup and get him to test it out, and design reinforced belts and carabineers for the team to wear with their uniforms to allow for them to be carried by him when in the suit. Then he needed to figure out a lighter system for John that was less losable than an actual lighter, figure out pants for Hulk, get Rogue's skin-colored suit and swimsuits done, and work on better armor for the team in general. And maybe, if he was lucky, get Natasha down here so he could see her tazer system and maybe improve that. But that one, Tony wasn't counting on, because Natasha was still scary beyond belief, even if they'd agreed to a clean slate between them. Tony had a healthy fear of badass women, thanks in large part to Pepper.

"All right. Butterfingers, You, the crates over there ... open them." Tony waved to the two crates at one end of his lab.

The bots immediately obeyed, chirping happily, and pulled out the items inside. One crate had the examples of the various armors for public servants, while the other, smaller crate had several phones and tablets. "Right, Butterfingers, you get to live up to your name today. You see these?" He waggled a phone and a tablet. "I want you to try to break them. You, you're going to be trying to wreck the armors. Run them over, try to pull them apart, that sort of thing. Then take the metal from the scrap bin and start firing it at the armors with the pneumatic gun."

Both bots squealed happily and trundled off to work. Tony grinned and looked at Dummy. "You're with me today, buddy. I've got suit work to do, among other things. You can help with that, and fetch me smoothies later on once I start working with the holograms. Jarvis, you have the software for the phones and the tablets, you know what to do with it."

"Indeed, sir." Jarvis said, sounding amused.

Dummy squealed happily and raced a circle around Tony, making him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon you, and this time, try not to be useless, huh?" He bitched affectionately, patting Dummy's casing as he headed for the Mark VI. There was not, fortunately, all that much left to do on it. He just had to finish the repairs to the right gauntlet and reintegrate it into the suit, then fix the arc leads in the chest and it'd be ready to go.

He got that finished, and then had Dummy put the suit away. While Dummy was doing that, he checked in on Butterfingers (who was having entirely too much fun trying to wreck the new phones and tablets) and You (likewise with wrecking the armors). That accomplished, Tony turned his attention to Jarvis.

"Fire up the holographic interface, Jarvis. We've got designing to do."

"Yes sir, though you should know that Mr. Friggasson is en route."

Tony cocked his head. "He is? Huh. Cool. Let him in when he gets here."

Tony had the Mark VIII designs up (since that was the most complete of the pre-existing design plans) and was adjusting the boot jets' power outputs when Loki walked in.

"Hey, Reindeer Games."

"Stark, whatever are your robots doing?" Loki asked, staring over at the bots in question.

"Stress-testing some stuff from Stark Industries R & D." Tony told him. "If it's breakable, they'll find a way. Jarvis was poking at the software earlier."

"It performed sufficiently." Jarvis said, with the air of someone who was convinced that sufficient ... wasn't.

Tony laughed. "We've talked about this, Jarvis. Not everything can be you. Or even the bots." He said.

"Of course not, sir. That does not mean I cannot be dismayed by the inferior quality of technology the common masses think sufficient to their purposes." Jarvis huffed.

Tony laughed again and shook his head. "Don't mind him. He gets huffy about performance parameters." He told Loki.

"Working on the changes to the suit, I see." Loki said, ignoring the banter between Tony and Jarvis.

"Yeah. Thanks for playing guinea pig the other day." Tony said.

Loki waved a hand. "It was no real trouble." He said.

"So, just here to watch, or looking to poke at a few things?" Tony asked. Loki had picked up on how things worked quickly enough that Tony wasn't worried about Loki mucking about with things on his own. And two minds were better than one with the stuff Tony had to do today.

"Hmmm. If you have something sufficiently challenging, I believe I may find time to assist." Loki said after a few moments.

Tony snorted and flicked up a file of things he wanted to get done. "Take your pick." He said.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

It was going to take Loki some time to get used to Midgard's culture, even if he adored this particular aspect of it. Being allowed to exercise his intelligence without censure or disdain would be a treat and a joy for a long time to come.

Keeping one eye on the bots wreaking merry hell in one corner of the lab, Loki perused Stark's list of things to do, and cocked an eyebrow. It was quite a list. He finally chose the vehicle engine idea to work on. Finding a way for such to run on a clean, renewable energy source ought to be doable, even with his level of knowledge when it came to Midgardian technology. Besides, if he got stuck, he had only to consult with Jarvis or Tony and they'd explain.

"Jarvis, a car's engine system, if you please, so I know what not to do." Loki said.

There was a strangled laugh from Tony, who had moved off to finish working on the suit once Loki had made his choice.

Loki peered at the resultant display with confused distaste. "Such a crude construct. Surely this is not the epitome of Midgardian transportation technology when other technology is so ... streamlined and efficient?"

"Sadly, it is." Tony said. "Hence me wanting to figure out something better. That doesn't run on arc reactors."

"Why not arc reactors?" Loki asked.

"Collision hazard." Tony said. "They're fine if they're protected against collisions somehow, but the way people drive, having a bunch of these." He tapped his chest over the reactor cover. "On the roads would be a disaster."

Loki nodded. "I see. So something else, then. I assume various things have been tried?"

"Yeah. Mostly tack-ons to the existing system. Virtually no change to the engine itself, just the energy delivery systems. It hasn't worked well." Tony told him.

Jarvis supplied Loki with examples. There were, it turned out, a few cars that ran partially on a renewable resource, but nothing that ran solely on that. And the designs were crude at best. Loki shook his head. "This is going to be quite the challenge." He said, grinning toothily. Something he could sink his teeth into.

Loki soon lost himself in plans, ideas, and schematics. He argued amiably with Jarvis over the overall crudity of the vehicle design. Oh, the Midgardians prettied up the outer shell, to be sure, but the underlying mechanics were appalling. Loki eventually ended up drawing (somewhat crudely, it was to be admitted. Drawing was not a great skill of his) a vehicle he had seen in his travels in another Realm, some centuries ago, and what he knew of the inner workings of it, to illustrate his point to Jarvis.

"That bears a remarkable resemblance to a shuttlecraft." Jarvis said, and flashed a picture of such from the Star Trek franchise. There were no warp nacelles on the other Realm's craft, but otherwise there was fairly close resemblance to round-nosed shuttlecraft commonly seen in the Next Generation show.

"Hmmm. So it does. I wonder if perhaps someone from that Realm gave the persons who created the show ideas." Loki said. "Of course, this does not run on ... "

"Antimatter, for the warp nacelles. The propulsion system for slower speeds was never explained." Jarvis said. "Though I now understand what you meant about the design." Jarvis said. The other Realm's vehicle was a model of sleek efficiency and had a minimum of moving parts that would, by necessity, wear out and break.

Loki snorted. "Quite. This vehicle was run on solar power ... one of the few resources there could never be a shortage of."

"Solar power exists here." Jarvis told him. "And has been attempted for vehicles, but is ... unwieldy and inefficient as yet." He showed Loki the designs for the most common systems.

"Hmmm, so I see." Loki peered at the designs.

They were primitive, but the Midgardians had definitely started on the right path for collecting and using that resource. All that remained were refinements to the system. Loki might not have known the full schematics for the other Realm's craft, but he knew the schematics for their power system, as that realm used solar power for literally everything, and the design was essentially the same except for size and capacity for everything.

With some help from Jarvis, he input the design. To his delight, Midgard had access to all the materials required for the system. Now they were getting somewhere.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Darcy had been out most of the day, hunting down a few supplies. Oh, she knew Jarvis could locate and order shit for her, but she preferred to do that herself. Besides, it was an excuse to get out of the Tower and stretch her legs every now and again.

That said, it was now late, and if Darcy knew her geeks, they were not only still up and eyeball deep in *Science!*, they had not left their labs all day. She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

"Jarvis, geek check!" she called as she headed for the common kitchen to make some food for doubtlessly starving geeks.

"Doctors Banner and Ross left their lab fifteen minutes before your arrival, Miss Lewis. Doctors Foster and Selvig are still in their lab, but Thor has been in residence most of the day as well, and insisted on feeding them at steady intervals, and is currently beginning to attempt to lure them out of the lab."

Darcy grinned. "I knew I liked him." She said. She was truly happy for Jane. Thor didn't seem to understand half of what came out of Jane's mouth, but Darcy was just as bad, and she and Jane were witness to the fact that you didn't have to understand Jane's science stuff to get along with her. And if Thor was willing to dance attendance on Jane and get her to eat and take breaks from her science, he definitely got the Darcy seal of approval.

"Sir, however, has been locked in his lab since shortly after dawn, and has not emerged since. Mr. Friggasson joined him shortly after breakfast, and has likewise remained ensconced. Dummy has prepared them several smoothies since, but they have been too distracted by their pursuits to consume them, despite pointed reminders by both myself and Dummy."

"Right, so, intervention needed." Darcy said. "Lemme get this finished, because they're going to be starving when they stop concentrating on whatever it is they're doing down there."

A few minutes later, laden with a trolley full of food, Darcy headed for Tony's lab. Jarvis let her in without her even having to try to wrangle the door.

"Ok, boys. Time out. Playtime's over. Time to eat, and sleep." Darcy called.

Of course, she got ignored. She was used to that. It generally took a couple tries to get Jane's attention when she was deep in her science.

Darcy held off for a moment, letting the scent of hot food permeate the room as an assist to prying the two men out of their own heads. They looked to be working on separate designs, Loki messing with something that looked vaguely like ... well, nothing Darcy could readily identify. Stark was playing with something that looked like a suit design.

"Boys!" she called, louder and more firmly. That got Tony's attention at least. Darcy silently thanked Potts for training him to respond to that tone of voice even if he really didn't want to. "Food, Stark. Even geniuses need to eat, and you've been in here all day." Darcy told him, pointing firmly at the trolley.

Stark eyed her for a moment, then evidently decided discretion was the better part of valor and headed over to the trolley. Darcy did *not* smirk at her ability to cow a multi-billionaire with the threat of her tazer, when she'd never once actually threatened to taze him. It was good to be feared.

Loki, on the other hand, hadn't had a Pepper to train him, so he didn't respond to Darcy. She rolled her eyes and walked over.

"Ok, big guy. Enough playtime for now." She said, poking him in the arm to get his attention.

It took a second, but then Loki hauled his gaze away from the hologram he'd been messing with and turned to her.

Whoa momma.

Darcy had seen her fair share of intense expressions. It came with geek territory. They *all* of them got really invested in their geekery at some point, and got intense, intent looks on their faces. But Darcy had never quite run across a look like Loki's before. It was equal parts laser-like intensity and something that was almost anger, but not quite.

Darcy had a healthy libido, and a healthy appreciation for intelligent, good-looking men. Which Loki more than qualified as. And that look on his face was doing good things to her libido, even though she knew it wasn't being aimed at her for the reasons her libido wanted it to be. Would *never* be aimed at her for that reason, she knew. The odds on two alien princes falling for Midgardian women were astronomical, and Darcy was nothing if not practical.

"Food, Loki. You may not eat the sheer tonnage Thor manages, but you still eat more than humans do, and according to Jarvis, you haven't eaten all day."

Loki gave his head a shake, and the intense look receded, much to Darcy's secret dismay. "Yes, I suppose sustenance would be a good idea." He said, before he favored her with a small smile. "My thanks, Lady Darcy." He said, before turning towards the trolley. "I fear I became overly absorbed in my task."

Darcy laughed. "No harm, no foul, Loki. I'm used to it with Jane. It comes with the super-smart brains, I think. I've yet to meet someone with that level of smarts that *doesn't* lose themselves in their projects."

Tony started yawning halfway through his dinner, and folded without further argument from Darcy, heading for the elevator and his bed. And probably Pepper. Loki, on the other hand, seemed to only have been refreshed by the break. Darcy eyed him askance.

"I do not require as much sleep as Midgardians do." Loki said, seeing her expression.

"And you're avoiding sleeping anyway." Darcy said, which got her a scowl. She waved a hand. "Dude, not like you don't have reason, and I wasn't tracking just you. I've just been keeping tabs on the geek brigade with Jarvis, to make sure you lot don't drive yourselves into the ground with too much lab time and too little food and sleep."

Loki seemed to accept that. "I would like to attempt to finish this before I retire." He said, completely avoiding replying to her comment about him avoiding sleep.

"What is that you're working on, anyway?" Darcy asked.

"A vehicle engine that runs solely on a renewable resource. It was among Stark's list of projects that needed to be worked on." Loki told her.

Darcy peered at the schematics again. "That ... looks nothing like any car engine I've ever seen." She said.

"Indeed it would not. I have had to redo it from the beginning, as the original engine design, while able to be adapted to other fuels, would be increasingly inefficient. An engine designed solely to run on the new resource was demanded." Loki said.

Darcy nodded. "Well, that makes sense. So what've you got?" She asked.

Darcy was well aware of the advice she'd given Thor a few days back, regarding Loki. She was also aware that people other than Thor observing that advice with Loki was a damn good idea. It helped that she was genuinely interested in what he was up to. Alternate-fuel cars had been a thing for a while, and something Darcy approved of, given that gasoline was eventually going to become unavailable for use, when the wells inevitably ran dry. Better to figure out how to power things before that happened and cars were a good first step.

Loki eyed her for a moment, as if trying to figure out if she was legitimately interested, then gave a faint nod and started explaining what he'd done.

Chapter Text

Sif and Frigga

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Duck and cover people. Epic shit ahead. This takes place the night before and the same day as last chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Sif sighed as she worked up a sweat against one of the practice dummies with her sword. It was getting late and she was working out more to wear herself out in hopes of getting some sleep, rather than actually practicing her swordsmanship out of a need for improvement.

If Thor were here, this would not have been needed. Thor had always kept herself and the Three on the move, all day every day. There had always been something to do, whether hunting for food for the table, defeating foul beasts marauding through the flocks, or defeating the odd imbecile that dared to challenge Odin's supremacy.

Unfortunately, Thor was now on Midgard. Likely to stay, if Sif had read the currents right. He had ever been the glue that kept their company together. Whenever he'd been drawn away for any length of time by his princely duties, the rest of them had gone their own ways. This was no different. Fandral was off wooing his latest conquest, and Hogun and Volstagg were with most of the other men in the feasting hall.

Sif had always been the odd one out in their group, there more by the grace of Thor's generous tolerance than because the Three approved of her. With Thor removed to Midgard, she was facing a long, lonely time on her own. She had known going in that it would be that way, even as a little girl. She'd never had any gift at all for the so-called 'womanly arts'. Magic still baffled her, and she looked upon housekeeping and birthing and raising children with something akin to horror.

It had been a very unpleasant struggle when she was little. She'd hidden in her father's barn in the depths of the night, imitating the sword drills she'd seen the boys do during the day with and old, forgotten, rusty dagger. She'd been so frightened she'd been shaking when she finally got up the nerve to try her luck in the training salle against the boys. And then her first opponent had been *Thor*. To this day, she was convinced that the instructor had done that on purpose, convinced that Sif would back down rather than attack the prince. He'd come to within a whisker of being right. It had only been the openly mocking expressions of the other boys that had kept her from turning tail and running.

When she'd knocked Thor on his ass, she'd fully expected ... well, her childish imagination had never been all that clear on the consequences, but she'd been sure they'd be dire. Instead, Thor had laughed, picked himself up off the floor, and clapped her on the back like she was one of them. From then on, she'd operated more or less under Thor's benevolent protection - more or less. She'd come in for a terrific thrashing by her father when she got home, but that had not swayed her from her course. Neither had any of the myriad punishments her father had devised over the years.

She didn't pay any real mind to the salle door opening and closing. She was aware of the person in the room, and where they were at, she just didn't bother focusing her full attention on them. That proved to be a bit of a mistake. The person walked over towards where she was at and then gave a low laugh.

"Children's exercises? I always knew Thor was lying about your skill with a blade."

Sif rolled her eyes and ignored the idiot. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard a million times. When he tried to get closer, within grabbing distance, she danced away from him instinctively. She'd learned that particular lesson a long, long time ago. She didn't have a prayer in hell of matching any Asgardian male in sheer brute strength, and knew better than to try. She'd learned to compensate by being faster and more flexible than they could ever be with all that muscle in the way.

The guy made a growling noise and Sif finally turned more attention to him. Oh, hell. It was Daufin. The idiot had been pursuing her for ... well over a hundred years now. He was thoroughly convinced that his manly charms would cure her of her aberrations and turn her into a proper Asgardian woman. Fat chance of that. Unfortunately, this was one particular would-be-suitor that Thor hadn't threatened with his hammer. Sadly, Daufin was bright enough to approach her only when Thor was not there to glower and start idly swinging his hammer in a very unsubtle threat.

There had been a time when Sif objected to Thor's protectiveness, but she'd eventually gotten over it and started viewing it with amused tolerance. Thor was what he was, and would never truly change. And he was, above all else, a chivalrous soul. He would never tolerate a man mistreating a woman.

"Really, Sif darling, you are so poorly suited to the warrior's life. It must be so taxing, to pretend you are something you are not." Daufin said, half-circling her like he was trying to get close enough to touch her.

Sif, of course, was having none of that and kept her sword between herself and Daufin. "Begone, Daufin. I have no interest in you or anything you say."

Daufin made a frustrated noise. "I tire of your willfulness, woman. You need to learn your place."

"And you're the one to teach it to me?" Sif mocked. "I think not, Daufin. Go." She poked at him with her sword, not actually trying to connect so much as warning him.

Daufin scowled at her. "Mayhap there is a reason you resist me." He growled. "Mayhap it is that you serve another purpose to Thor and the Three."

Oh, hell. He did not just go there. Sif gave Daufin a death-glare. Then, before he knew what she was doing, she lunged, adjusting her grip on her sword so that the pommel connected solidly with Daufin's skull. He went down in a heap at her feet, and she spat on him in disgust. She stalked out of the salle, storming towards the rainbow bridge. She needed a few moments away from idiots, and Heimdall was quiet, solid, nonjudgmental company.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Legends say that Queen Frigga can see the future, but tells no one, save a loyal servant sworn to silence. This was both true, and inaccurate.

Frigga did not actually see the future. She got occasional premonitions, both of good news and bad. She did tell a loyal servant about these premonitions, and the servant was sworn to silence about them. Frigga also rarely did anything about the premonitions. Only with the worst ones did she intervene in any way.

So when that cold, crawling sensation wriggled up her spine and spiked into her brain, driving her to gasp her sons' names and driving her to her feet, she did not hesitate. Something horrible was about to happen, and it was focused around Thor and Loki.

That, Frigga could not, would not, allow.

She raced for the Bridge and Heimdall, all pretense at royal dignity forgotten. Some bright servant had seen her pelting through the palace hell bent for leather and summoned the horsemaster to bring her horse. That saved her a lot of time she knew she couldn't afford. She leaped aboard and raced for Heimdall.

When she was most of the way there, she was met by a frantic-looking Sif. "My lady! The king ... he means to ... " Sif stopped long enough to catch her breath. "He is starting the renouncement ritual."

Frigga spared only a half-second for the abject horror that Sif's report demanded. She drove her heels into her horse's flanks and urged it faster for the last few lengths before she leaped off and stormed up to her husband.

"You DARE!" She bellowed.

What Odin was starting to do was an order of magnitude more severe than mere temporary banishment and removal of powers, as he had done with Thor a year ago. Renouncing Thor and Loki was permanent. It would strip them of not only their immortality and powers forever, but also Thor's blood relation to Odin and herself, and make it impossible for either of them to ever again set foot in Asgard. Even if they were holding onto someone else who was making use of the soon-to-be fully repaired Rainbow Bridge, they would not be brought along. Even if Odin rethought his actions at a later date, it could not be undone.

It was something that only the kings and queens of the Realms could do, and was normally reserved for the worst of criminals. It had been done once before by six of the Realms to Thanos. Unfortunately, he had since somehow regained his powers. He had been driven from the Realms after his bid for power, and renounced so that he could not step foot in those six realms ever again. Only Midgard, Niflheim and Helheim had not renounced him. Midgard had been a volcanic wasteland at the time, devoid of any life form at all. Niflheim and Helheim had been uninhabited, their native populations long since gone. They were useless to Thanos, as they were frozen wastelands stripped of all resources, which made Jotunheim look like a tropical paradise.

Each of the Realms had two objects of power. One of these could be used as a weapon or energy source. The other was an item that held within it the wisdom and power to rule its Realm. Asgard's items were Heimdall's sword and Gungnir, respectively. Jotunheim's had been the Tesseract and the Casket, again respectively.

Frigga knew what Midgard's items were, but they yet remained hidden. One of the requirements for the objects to appear was that the Realm must be close to being united under one banner. Midgard, with its dozens of fiefs, wasn't anywhere close to that stage yet. Nevertheless, the items had been found (and swiftly lost) a few times in history. Midgard's power item was a casket. Hence the reason for multiple legends regarding boxes of varying descriptions, from Pandora's Box to the Ark of the Covenant. Its king-maker was a sword, one that had been encountered only once, but had made quite the impression: Excalibur, the sword in the stone. It would remain lodged there until such time as Midgard was united and someone worthy took it up.

The bad news was that, once taken up, the king-maker passed from person to person in the newly made royal family. The king-maker could not be taken up by a commoner. The King, once made, could not be unmade. In the normal course of events, that wasn't a problem. The kingmakers did not choose idly, and could not be passed to an unworthy successor. Which really should have been everyone's biggest hint about Loki. If he had not been worthy, Gungnir would not have permitted him to touch it. Not even with Odin in his sleep and unable to sit the throne at the moment. Temporary bad decision making didn't exempt you from being King. Unfortunately, even if Thor and Loki were here, Frigga doubted they would challenge Odin for Gungnir. And there was no one else who could.

Except for her. While not of the Asgardian royal line (marrying into the royal family didn't count) Frigga was royal in her own right, as the youngest daughter of the King of Vanaheim. As such, she was capable of taking up Gungnir, if it found her worthy. Which she fully intended to do ... once she'd stopped this madness.

There was one thing about Frigga that everyone, even Odin, tended to forget. Frigga encouraged that forgetting by being quiet and self-effacing much of the time. Loki was widely acknowledged (if with a sneer) as a formidable magician. But everyone tended to forget from whom Loki had taken his lessons. Frigga had taught him everything he knew. But she hadn't taught him everything SHE knew. Not by a long shot. Not for lack of Loki trying, either. He simply hadn't been alive long enough to absorb all she had to teach him yet.

Frigga flicked one hand at Odin and a small fireball raced the distance between them, exploding in Odin's face. It was neither hot nor explosive. It was merely meant to distract Odin, which it did in spades. Odin reared back, stumbling over his own feet in shock and losing his place in the ritual. The magic that had been building to do his bidding promptly dissipated, achieving the most important goal, insofar as Frigga was concerned. She kept one eye on Heimdall, uncertain as to whether or not he would intervene as she flicked another fireball at her husband, this one with some warmth behind it, though not enough to burn him. Yet. Then she hit him a third time, for the symmetry of it and to give vent to a bit more of her rage.

"Have you run mad?" She demanded. "Why in the name of the Void are you renouncing our sons?"

Odin snarled at her. "Our sons." He spat the words. "Are no more worthy to stand in this Realm than those upstart peasants they have befriended." He growled.

Frigga frowned at him. She'd been aware he'd been ... testy, to put it mildly, since Thor and Loki's return to Asgard. Tony and Darcy's verbal and physical attacks had NOT gone over well. Loki's subsequent renouncement of the Odinson name had been salt on the wound for reasons Frigga could not begin to comprehend.

"You will not do this, Husband." She snapped. "And do you try, I will show you why Loki is only the second-best magician in the Realm." Because fireballs were a toddler's trick to her.

Odin snapped and snarled and frothed. He, quite frankly, was not making a damn bit of sense. He was acting very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Well and well.

"It would seem, Husband, that you are in dire need of the same lesson bestowed on Thor a year ago." Frigga growled. "For you are acting the spoiled brat who is not getting his way. Lady Darcy was right. You played a game with Loki and you lost, badly. And now you are whining about it."

Disgusted, she flicked her hand again, and Gungnir wrested itself out of Odin's hand and flew to hers. Odin howled in rage, but Frigga paid him no mind. She flicked her hand again, almost lazily, stripping Odin of his royal garb and replacing it with servant's garb. Another flick bound his powers until she said otherwise.

"You are sentenced to banishment in Svartalfheim until such time as you learn humility, empathy, and restraint." She snapped. Then she looked over at Heimdall, who had been thankfully silent and stayed out of the argument. "Send him." She commanded.

Heimdall took up the container holding the Tesseract and manipulated it. Seconds later, Odin was swallowed up in a wash of white light. Once he was gone, she regarded Heimdall. "What set him off?" She wanted to know.

"He came down for his usual report." Heimdall rumbled. "I had to tell him about a discussion Thor had with Loki yesterday morning. Thor has resumed his childhood plans for the throne."

Frigga actually laughed, thoroughly delighted by that news, despite the situation. "The both of them ruling side by side as equals." She said, thoroughly pleased. She'd been grieved to see that particular childhood dream die. Then she sighed. "And Odin refused to allow a Jotun on the throne under any circumstances." She shook her head.

Fortunately for Thor and his plans, it would be possible. Loki was, after all, a son of Laufey, who, despite not having the Casket, had still been the rightful king of Jotunheim. Come to think on it ... perhaps she could attempt to speak reason with Laufey's successor. Odin had been foredoomed to failure, thanks to the Asgardian male's views on magic use. She, however, was far more open-minded about dealing with magic-users in general, as Vanaheim had not had those prejudices. Perhaps she would be able to succeed where Odin had failed.

She truly hoped Odin learned the lessons he needed to learn. Unfortunately, she didn't think he would. He was old, and set in his ways. She had a feeling he would spend the rest of his days in Svartalfheim among the dwarves. It wasn't a huge problem. She was younger than he was, and fully capable of holding the throne until her sons were willing to take up the mantle.

That would not be for some time yet. They both were rather invested in Midgard at the moment, and would likely stay until the friends they'd made had gone on to Valhalla. Beyond that, both of them were still very young, barely out of their teens by Midgardian measures. They would not be willing to settle down and rule Asgard for as much as another millennium yet. Frigga spared an amused thought for what Lady Jane would think if she found out she was technically older than Thor.

At that point, Sif finally approached after having made herself scarce while Frigga and Odin were arguing.

"My thanks, Lady Sif, for trying to stop Odin." Frigga said, as that was clearly what Sif had been thinking of doing by running for the palace, and the one person who could talk Odin out of his insane move. "Though I do wonder why you were out here?"

"Daufin." Sif said with a growl. "He accused me of being a ... " She spat, "leman to Thor and the Three."

Frigga's eyes went wide. "Does he breathe still?" She asked, rightfully assuming that Sif would have punished him for his temerity.

"Yes, though he will have a frightful headache come the morning." Sif said. "Among other ailments. I left him in a heap on the salle floor. His body will not thank him for it."

Frigga let out a snort. "I will deal with him come the morning." She said, then shook her head. "And if he has any intelligence whatsoever, he will ensure that Thor never hears of it."

Sif laughed. "Aye, Thor takes a dim view to that sort of thing."

"He is more perceptive than many credit him for." Frigga said. "He may not have been consciously aware of what Loki was being put through, but he acted as Loki's shield and buckler all the same. And took up the same mantle with you, for much the same reasons."

Sif scowled. "I am not ... " She started.

Frigga just looked at her. Then watched as Sif started to actually think about it. About the similarities between herself and Loki. Both of them so different from what they 'ought' to be. She knew the moment it sunk in, because Sif suddenly looked distressed.

"Why did I never ... ?" Sif started, then gave herself a shake. "I need to go." And without saying another word, she headed back towards the palace.

Frigga smiled quietly, one down. Now that she realized the similarities, Sif would join forces with Thor and Loki. And unless Frigga much missed her guess, drag the Three along with her, giving Thor and Loki that much more support. So much the better.

Chapter Text

Steve

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

In the wake of Steve being lost in the ice, one would have expected the wildly disparate multi-racial and multi-national Commandos to splinter and fall apart. Steve had, after all, been what had held them together and it wasn't like there were all that many Allied military officers who would have been willing to head such a team.

No one outside of the SSR had been expecting what happened. Colonel Phillips himself stepped in and became the Commandos' field commander in the last days of the war. Peggy, in a move that would have horrified most people even seventy years in the future, joined the Commandos in hunting down the shattered remnants of Hydra. She used that avenue to vent some small portion of her grief and anger while they all waited for word from Howard. Howard had immediately begun to search for Steve as he was the only one of them that could. The rest of them were military and couldn't exactly abandon the war effort to go looking for Steve.

Immediately after the war, Howard hired virtually the entirety of the Commandos to help look for Steve. Only one or two of the non-Americans in the bunch had declined the offer, unwilling to either spend the vast majority of their lives so far from their loved ones or uproot their families. Colonel Phillips was the only other one to demur and that was solely because he was career military and his next re-up wasn't for a couple years. He joined them as soon as his tour was over.

Gradually, as time passed, the various Commandos died until none were left. That was, however, not the end of the group since most of them had gone on to have families of their own. As Howard had done with Tony, most of the Commandos raised their kids on tales of Steve. It must be said that the Commandos were far nicer about it than Howard was and didn't (unfavorably) compare their children to Steve. By and large, the kids stayed in contact with each other though they were not as tightly knit as their parents had been.

Thanks to Howard, Tony hadn't been included in the group. By the time Tony'd been born, Howard had long since descended into 'angry, violent drunk' territory and had stopped attending the Commando get-togethers. It didn't help that Tony was the age of the grandkids rather than the age of the kids.

Michael Jones, eldest son of Gabriel Jones, had been one such kid. He lived in Boston along with his wife. Two of his four children also lived in Boston while the other two had moved further west. When the invasion had hit the airwaves, he and many of the other 'kids' had been watching.

They'd nearly burned the telephone wires down calling each other when the first images of Steve hit the screen. At first, it was anger and outrage, that someone. somewhere had decided to slap some idiot in the Captain's uniform and ... Well they had not been pleased at first. But then pictures of Steve's bare face were featured and old black-and-white photographs were dug out all around the world while various people compared the face on the TV to the one in the pictures. The common consensus of that comparison was a solid 'maybe?' followed by 'probably a clone'.

THat had just pissed them off even worse. It was bad enough having some impostor pretending to be Steve but to *clone* him? They proceeded to swamp the phone lines trying to get a hold of either the impostor or Tony and express their outrage. Unfortunately, they weren't aware of Jarvis, who shut down the numerous, very angry and accusatory phone calls as a matter of course before Tony and Steve even knew they'd called. They were not, however, going to quit that easily.

As the member of their company who lived closest, Michael got elected to go to Stark Tower and express their outrage personally to Tony. His son Aaron decided to join him, worried that his father might not manage to be coherent when they eventually talked to Stark. The children of the Commandos didn't think Tony was behind the cloning but they figured that Tony would be the one best able to find and punish the people who had cloned Steve. After seventy years, it never crossed any of their minds that Steve might actually be Steve.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Steve, along with James, Clint, and John exited the elevator that morning. Steve, James, and Clint were all in their uniforms since the four of them were on cleanup assistance duty today. The four of them had been chatting amiably as the elevator doors opened only to go quiet.

Near the front doors, four or five of the Tower's security squad were facing off with two men. Steve mentally stumbled over the correct nomenclature for a half-second before he remembered to think (and say) African American. One of the two was fairly old with a close-cropped cap of gray hair.

Steve frowned and started over, half afraid that the security team was picking on the pair unfairly thanks to their race. That drew both men's attention to him and Steve rapidly realized what - exactly - the problem was. Because both men were giving him death glares.

It wasn't the first time that Steve had run into this, in the last few days. There'd been more than one member of the 'older generation' - either those old enough to remember World War Two or their children - who had been outraged that some 'faker' had dared don The Captain's uniform. Steve figured that the Avengers were diverting as many of them as they could but there had still been the odd person who had still had the balls to get in Steve's face despite the presence of the other Avengers.

Rather than being angry, Steve had been warmed clear through at this evidence of just how well thought-of he'd been. Oh, he'd known Captain America had been popular during the war and had become something of a ... thing ... after. But there was a big difference between people admiring Captain America and people being pissed off that someone was apparently pretending to be him.

Steve automatically gave the three with him a quieting gesture to keep them from snarling at the two men. It didn't stop the three of them from eyeballing the two black men with malice. Steve could just hear James growling under his breath as well.

This pair, though, seemed to be a touch different than normal because after the expected 'how dare you's' and so on, the elder of the pair said.

"God, I'm glad my father didn't live to see this, or any of the other Commandos for that matter."

That stopped Steve cold. He stared at the elder man for a moment in something like shock.

One of the first things he'd done after he'd woken up (more like demanded of Fury) was get an accounting of the fates of the Commandos. Some part of him had been ... relieved ... that all of them were dead. It had taken what would otherwise have been an insanely difficult decision out of his hands: did he let them know he'd been found or not ... and did he go see them?

He hadn't had to face that choice. He'd been able to just let them live in his memory as they had been during the war. He'd been able to pretend that the pictures of elderly, white-haired people that had come with the information hadn't been the men he'd known, worked with, and befriended. He'd been able to pretend that maybe, just maybe, he'd turn a corner and Dum Dum or Morita or *Peggy* would be standing there, young and vital and alive.

Oh, he'd known that wasn't the truth. He'd known they were dead and gone, now, but ... it hadn't really seemed real. Hell, nothing since he'd woken up had. It was slowly getting better as he adapted and, more importantly, developed relationships in this new era but the surreal aura to everything hadn't really lifted yet. Even Tony being around hadn't helped much, if at all, because he resembled his father so strongly sometimes that Steve had almost called him Howard more than once.

Until now. Until he was face-to-face with the son of one of the Commandos, if that comment about his father or the other Commandos was anything to go by ... who looked sixty or so. And had his own son, who looked to be right about Tony's age, if Steve was any judge. And while the fact they were black narrowed the possibilities considerably, there were still three men the two could be related to and these two didn't look sufficiently like any of them for Steve to guess.

"I can understand that you might not believe me." Steve said. "But I am truly Steve Rogers."

That got the younger of the two to snort in disgust. "His clone, you mean."

Steve frowned in confusion before he turned to look at James and Clint. "Clone?" He asked. He was slowly getting better with modern terminology (even if the slang and pop culture references were still largely beyond him), but that was one he hadn't encountered yet.

"Basically, it means taking a bit of your skin or blood or whatever and growing a whole new you." Clint said.

Steve blinked. "I doubt that would work, with the Serum." He pointed out. It might, but then again, it might not. He turned back to the men, who'd watched this exchange quietly enough. "Not cloned." Steve told them. "Just ... frozen. For a very, very long time." Then, because his curiosity was getting the better of him ... and it might help establish his bona fides ... "Whose son are you?" He asked the elder of the two.

"Gabriel Jones." The man supplied, somewhat reluctantly.

Steve grinned. "He was a good man. He and Jaques Dernier drove most of us nuts by talking in French and then laughing for about six months or so. After that, we'd started to pick up some of the language and figured out he was just telling Jaques jokes."

The elder of the two men froze, staring at Steve for a long moment. Steve could tell he was still suspicious but knowing something as innocuous as that, something that Steve knew had never made it into any reports, would go a long way to proving he was who he said he was.

At that point, Tony, alerted to the situation, arrived in the eccentric style he used with the public. "Gents, what seems to be the trouble? Surely Steve hasn't offended anyone's sensibilities already today, has he? Logan, I thought I told you to keep Stevie on a leash?"

He bounced to a stop beside Steve and Steve had the distinct impression that the only thing stopping Tony from putting an arm around his shoulder was the height difference between them and the fact doing that would make Tony look more than a little silly.

"Mr. Stark?" The elder man said. "I ... "

"Michael Jones, isn't it." Tony said more than asked. "And Aaron?" He indicated the younger man. "I had a feeling one of you lot was going to show up before too much longer. C'mon upstairs."

At that point, the elder, Michael, seemed to realize ... and accept ... that this was real. "My god. You really are ... " His eyes went wide. "I am so sorry."

Steve waved the apology aside. "No apology necessary, Mr. Jones. You were ... well, trying to defend me. You had no way of knowing the truth, and every reason to suspect foul play."

Michael seemed to accept that and trailed after Tony with his son in tow. Steve immediately turned and headed for the door, his thoughts in chaos.

It had been so easy to pretend, even with Tony around. But coming face to face with the grandson of one of his commandos, a man who was close to twice Steve's age, was bringing that crashing down around his ears.

The urge to beat something insensible was rising. In lieu of that, Steve headed for a sector that still had heavy lifting that needed to be done. He needed to burn off some energy, badly.

Eight days in, the torn-up part of Midtown was looking both better and worse. Better in that the aliens and their gear including the whales, all the blown up vehicles, and other sundry wreckage was finally gone. So was the stench of decomposition that had been increasing as the big whales were cut into manageable sections and removed. Things looked worse, though, because now that the worst of the debris had been removed, the construction equipment and crews had moved in with a vengeance. There was stuff everywhere on pallets that had to be brought where it was needed by relay, packed onto small sleds behind motorcycles and bicycles and passed from person to person as the roads were impassable to four-wheeled traffic. And then there were the road crews and all their equipment, working as quickly as they could to patch the holes blown in the streets so that the bigger equipment could be wheeled into position and used.

The good news was there was always some sort of heavy lifting that needed doing. Most of the crews had gotten used to the Avengers being around by now, which meant less staring and more being able to just get on with it. Steve zeroed in on a crew that was gathering around a big pallet of bags of cement, a small mixer, and jackhammers.

The crew boss, who equaled Thor in sheer size, greeted Steve and company with thinly disguised pleasure. "Gents, you picked a good time to show up. We're trying to get ahead of the other road crews. Jackhammer out the ruined cement and fill in the holes so that the spreaders and rollers can just drive right on through, rather than having to stop and wait. But to do that, we need to get all of this ... " The big man waved towards the center of the warzone. "In there."

"Count it done." Steve said, immediately grabbing several of the fifty-pound bags. He could have physically lifted more than he grabbed, but there was only so much he could carry and still be able to see where he was going. "Lead the way."

Behind him, James grabbed several bags as well while Clint and John, lacking enhanced strength, decided to start moving the equipment.

Chapter Text

Betty

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

It had taken Betty a few days to truly acclimate to her new circumstances. She'd gotten so used to being wary, suspicious, and afraid while in Cheyenne Mountain. She'd gotten used to looking over her shoulder waiting for the General's next attack.

Oh, he hadn't laid a hand on her physically but the last year had been a non-stop war of words. The General had stopped by her quarters or the lab at least once a day. He constantly harped on how she should be thankful to him for keeping her safe and arranging for gainful employment. When he wasn't harping about that it was all about how 'the creature' was a vicious unstoppable monster that would kill her as soon as look at her. Betty had lost track of the number of times she'd wanted to break the General's jaw.

Betty hadn't quite believed Rhodey was on the level when he showed up. True, he was Air Force and not Army but she wouldn't put it past the General to have that sort of reach and be testing her while he was out trying to 'collect' Bruce. Honestly, she hadn't quite believed the situation was what it was until she'd been wrapped up in Bruce's arms.

She didn't think anyone would blame her and Bruce for being ... very clingy ... since they'd been reunited. They'd barely been anywhere other than their floor and the lab, and always together. Always within line-of-sight of each other.

Betty had been startled and amused by the number of defenders Bruce had accumulated in a matter of days. The entirety of the Avengers had come solidly down on Bruce's side of the fight in an apparently unbeatable combination of political, monetary, physical, and ironically enough military power that the General couldn't seem to breach. Fully half of them had gone to bat for Bruce personally. Betty strongly suspected that the ones that hadn't merely hadn't been afforded the opportunity yet. She was also fairly certain that Natasha and Clint had come up with some sort of plan to deal with the General, provided Tony didn't get there first.

Betty had finally begun to relax in the last day or so. She still wanted to be near Bruce, but that had more to do with her loving him and wanting to be with him than it did a fear he'd be taken from her again. Bruce too seemed to be relaxing a bit. He got on with Tony like a house on fire, which seemed to be helping. It was rather hard to keep worrying about the General when they were trying to keep up with Tony. Betty had never seen someone quite like him. He came off as scatterbrained, jumping from one thing to the next in conversations, but Betty had quickly realized it wasn't scatterbrain at all. Tony had a startling ability to multitask on a level she'd never seen. He was rarely involved in less than three things at any one time. Some combination of one or more conversations with people in the room, phone conversations, using a Starkpad or his lab equipment, and frequent asides and instructions to Jarvis and/or his lab bots.

The fact that Tony had been willing to go to war for Bruce had predisposed Betty to like the man. When she'd found out he'd been so totally blasé about the Hulk, she'd been strongly tempted to adopt him out of sheer gratitude. Being willing to fight for Bruce's right to freedom was completely different from not fearing Hulk. Certainly Steve, Thor, Loki and Logan had been as blasé, but those four were at the very least far more durable than a normal human.

Today, she and Bruce were puttering around their lab. They'd begun collaborating with Jane on certain aspects of the Rainbow Bridge project, since they were more familiar with gamma radiation in specific than Jane was. They knew that Asgard had the Tesseract and were now in the process of rebuilding the broken section of their Bridge and the control station they used to travel. Jane wanted to build a similar station somewhere on Earth so that they could travel to the other Nine Realm worlds without having to go to Asgard first. While they helped with that, Bruce had gotten an idea for an Earth-based transporter because the Bridge was basically an inter dimensional transporter. Simplifying the Bridge and making it much shorter-range would make Star Trek style transporters a reality.

They were so engrossed in their projects that Betty jumped when Jarvis spoke up.

"Forgive me for the interruption, but I have a call for you, Doctor Banner, from the President." Jarvis said.

Bruce almost instantly went green around the gills, but not in a 'hulk-out imminent' way. This was pure nerves. Betty immediately walked over and leaned against his side. "Easy, Bruce. Jarvis doesn't sound pissed off, so I don't think this is bad news. You know Jarvis has been screening calls."

It had started as pure self-defense against all the paparazzi, fans, and crazies that had flooded the Tower phone lines trying to get a hold of one or another of the Avengers. Shortly after the battle, it had morphed to protecting several of their number from unpleasant confrontations. Steve needed protection as there'd been a very loud sector of the population that had been very pissed off about 'some faker' taking up the Captain's mantle. Thor and Loki had come under fire from certain sectors because of their titular 'god' status. As a result, it had become the rule that Jarvis ran interference for them, and if necessary routed the call to Tony, who relished crossing swords with assholes of any description. Betty had heard rumor that Loki had helped once or twice, tangling the caller up in their own rhetoric so badly they'd ended up espousing the viewpoint diametrically opposite to the one they'd started the call with. Silvertongue indeed.

In the last couple of days, such calls had reduced in number as the media campaign Pepper had going penetrated the collective consciousness of the public. There would always be those that thought Steve was a fake, or that Thor and Loki were heretical abominations, but the campaigns seemed to have started convincing the less rabid folks they were in error.

"Put him through, Jarvis." Bruce said, threading his fingers through Betty's for moral support.

"Doctor Banner, Doctor Ross." The President greeted them both. "I will get right to the point, as I am aware that your time is quite valuable. I have signed a series of documents in regards to Doctor Banner. One is a pardon for previous incidents of damage by Doctor Banner's alter ego. The second is an order that forbids coercing, hunting or capturing Doctor Banner or his alter ego for any military or scientific purpose. The third forbids any attempt to arrest, capture, or litigate Doctor Banner or his alter ego for future damage done in the defense of himself, this country or the planet. In short, Doctor Banner, in future, if an American attempts to mess with you for any reason, they're going to end up in jail for a very, very long time."

Bruce seemed to be beyond words. Betty stared at the screen for a long time before she managed to regain a sense of equilibrium.

"Why now?" She wanted to know. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. President, this is ... very appreciated ... but why now, and not years ago?"

"Doctor Banner's initial transformation took place before I came into office, so I cannot speak for my predecessor." The President said. "As for myself, I can only say that the situation was presented to me in such a way that containing Doctor Banner's alter ego seemed like a good idea. It has been borne in upon me in the last two days that containing his alter ego is apparently impossible, and coercing it is if not impossible than exceedingly unwise. I have also been informed that every incidence of the Hulk's appearance save the Harlem incident and his latest appearance was a result of Doctor Banner being chased about by the Army. I've been informed that Hulk was actually trying to help in Harlem and obviously the other day, and that if Doctor Banner had been left alone there would not have been a problem the other times. It seems commonsensible to encourage people to leave Doctor Banner alone, in light of those facts."

Betty thought about that for a moment before she nodded. "All right."

"You should also know that General Ross has been stripped of his rank and thrown into Leavenworth for the remainder of his life." The President said. "Once I was fully informed of his actions, it was very clear to me that he was overstepping himself by a very large margin, to put it mildly. He would was in Leavenworth approximately five minutes after I was fully informed of his actions. A courier will be arriving at Stark Tower later today with copies of the documents so that you have them on hand." The President said.

Betty had always wondered about that ... about why the General hadn't been thrown in jail before now. She knew it was far beyond the remit of any one General to send troops into a country for any purpose when war had not been declared with that country. The Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Defense were an exception to that rule but the General had never held such a lofty position. Evidently, he'd managed to avoid trouble by dint of having friends that agreed with him in high enough positions to turn a blind eye and misinform the President about the situation if he took notice of the hunt.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Betty said.

It took a stunned Bruce a minute to recover enough to echo her thanks. "Indeed, thank you, sir." He said, his voice rough with emotion.

"You are very welcome, Doctor Banner." The President said, then ended the call.

Silence reigned in the lab for a few minutes before Bruce turned to her.

"Did that ... I didn't imagine that, did I?" He asked.

"You mean the whole 'president making everyone back the fuck off' thing? That actually happened, Bruce." Betty told him, cupping his cheek affectionately.

Bruce blinked at her. "You know, I keep thinking this is all a very detailed dream, and that I'll wake up in a cage somewhere." He admitted. "You being here, a great lab, people who don't hate and fear the Other Guy, and now the President ... "

Betty's heart twinged. She could understand why he thought it was a dream after more than five years of being hunted like a rabid animal. "Oh, Bruce." She said, then kissed him gently. "Not a dream, I promise."

Bruce let out a shaky laugh as he wrapped an arm around her. "Yeah, well, keep saying that. I might start believing it at some point." Then he smiled. "I wonder how much yelling Tony had to do to get the President to agree with him."

"Actually, Doctor Banner, it is Miss Potts who got the President involved in this matter." Jarvis said. "When General Ross approached the Tower the last time, she called him and provided him with the relevant data."

Bruce laughed. "I must admit I'm beginning to see why Tony is so enthralled with her."

Betty gave him a mock-injured look. "Oh really?"

Bruce grinned. "Don't worry, Betty. She's not a patch on you." He said. "But I can see the appeal. She's fierce and isn't afraid to play dirty to get things done."

And Betty knew that Tony thoroughly approved of playing dirty to get things done. If he didn't, he wouldn't have built the armor to kick the Ten Rings' collective ass. Nor would he have forced peace on the war-torn Middle East in retaliation of being kidnapped and having his weapons being used on American soldiers. Hell, that mindset had existed for Tony pre-kidnapping. Why else would he have created the Jericho missile? That particular weapon played very, very dirty.

"Well, I vote we wrap up early and celebrate." Betty said. "A little wine, a nice meal ... " She trailed off and gave Bruce a wicked grin.

Bruce wasn't slow on the uptake. "That sounds really good." He agreed.

They hadn't had full-on sex yet. Bruce was still wanting to go slow with that for understandable reasons. He'd gotten better control of the Hulk since they'd last seen each other, but that didn't mean his control was foolproof. Combined with how long it had been since they'd been able to be together, they'd settled for a lot of kissing, snuggling, and a little bit of foreplay. All accomplished with no problems in the last few days.

Today seemed like a good time to push further. Not that they really needed an excuse, but knowing the General was in jail and no one could legally hunt him anymore would be a load off of Bruce's mind. That meant less stress pushing him towards a hulk-out, which in turn meant he had more wiggle room to deal with emotional upheaval.

Chapter Text

Frigga

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Frigga's return to the palace garnered an enormous amount of attention. Thankfully, Frigga knew this had more to do with her frantic race for the bridge than anything else. She, Odin, and Heimdall had been too far out for anyone in the city proper to observe what had happened. Everyone was wondering what could possibly have driven her to race for the Bridge like the fire-demons of Muspelheim were after her.

She rode her horse to the stables, and waved aside the horsemaster. The least she could do for Aedan after that unexpected race was to tend to her herself. Aedan, of course, decided to prance and dance in place, clearly more energized by the abrupt, top-speed race than worn out by it. Frigga gave an amused smile and hummed gently to the chestnut mare until she calmed somewhat and permitted her saddle and bridle to be removed and allowed herself to be groomed. Once Aedan was settled in her stall, Frigga headed for the palace proper.

She stopped the first servant she crossed paths with.

"There is to be an emergency audience in the throne room in two hour's time. I want every palace resident in attendance, and as many of the city dwellers as can be summoned in so brief a time." She commanded. "See to it that word is spread among your fellows. All duties are suspended until the audience is complete."

The servant eyed Gungnir as he bowed low, then raced off nearly as fast as Frigga had done so short a time ago. Frigga had little doubt he would spread the word as fast as he possibly could. To be the source of such a piece of information and gossip was a much-coveted thing among the servants. She headed for her own chambers, summoning her personal servant Fulla.

"Fulla, if you would draw me a bath? Then tend to your own appearance. I have commanded that all possible appear in the throne room two hours hence." Frigga said.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Fulla eyed Gungnir with much the same look the servant Frigga had stopped earlier eyed it, then hustled into Frigga's private bathing room. Frigga went to her closet to choose what she would wear. She knew she had to make a definite statement. It took but a few moments to realize that nothing in her closet would suit. Oh, it was all highest quality, and much of it had been designed to project a certain image, especially to foreign ambassadors seeking audience, and filled those purposes admirably.

It was not, however, suitable for what she needed now. Frigga shook her head with a sigh. She was going to have to craft something from scratch. Then Frigga smiled. Perhaps not quite from scratch. It would by necessity be no more than an illusion, but it would be enough until she could get an identical outfit crafted.

She took her inspiration from Odin, Thor, Loki and Sif's armors as she began crafting the illusion. It was largely gold, like Odin and Loki's, with a breastplate identical to Sif's. Instead of the leather skirting Sif favored, Frigga decided on a fitted jacket much like Loki's, done in gold with green accents, again to honor her youngest son. Over her shoulders, in a direct nod to both Odin and Thor, was a brilliant red cape. The helm she designed was somewhere between Odin's and Loki's, the horns not quite as thick as the ones on Odin's helm (mostly because she would never be able to wear such a heavy helm if it was real) and not as tall or curved back as far as Loki's.

The end result was quite handsome, if she did say so herself, and would suit her purposes admirably, as it would bring to mind both her husband and her sons, and their power. Power that most in the realm hesitated to bring to bear against them. As she was not a warrior, the average Asgardian would need the reminder of that sort of power for a time until she had established herself. She could very easily defend herself, even without Gungnir, but she would rather not be forced to do so.

Once she'd gotten the illusion of her attire settled, bathed and then ‘donned‘ the illusory armor, she made her way to the small antechamber Thor had been waiting in prior to his coronation. There she waited until the two hours were complete. She did, after all, have an entrance to make. Her only regret was that Thor and Loki weren't here. That said, it was for the best that they were not. The people would look to Thor for leadership he was not truly ready to give, and Loki did not need the reminder of the day his world had fallen apart. There would come a day when he would not react badly to reminders of that day, she knew, but it would not come for some time yet.

Precisely as the second hour rang, Frigga glided through the antechamber doors. The throne room was, if anything, even more packed than it had been for Thor’s coronation. The palace guard had formed a passage between them as they had that day. The chatter that had filled the room died away as Frigga made her way down that passage. Then, when she had gotten about halfway down, the talking started back up, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed, if not volume, as people reacted to the sight of her carrying Gungnir and wearing armor.

Frigga paid no attention to any of it. She mounted the steps to the throne, then whirled around, adding a touch of magic to the turn so the illusory cloak she wore flared dramatically around her. She was pleased when the throne room went utterly silent. She cast a subtle spell to give her voice more volume since she couldn’t boom and bellow with the same sort of volume Odin and Thor managed with ease.

“Hear me, people of Asgard.” She said. Thanks to her spell, her voice was as clear to the people in the furthest corners of the throne room as it was to those standing closest to the throne. “For crimes against Asgard and her heirs, Odin Allfather has been stripped of his powers and banished, never to return.”

Easier to tell them that, then tell them he’d only stay until he learned his lesson. For one thing, there was no guarantee Odin ever would. For another, the people would be far more inclined to see her as a mere interim placeholder and remain loyal to Odin. That could not be allowed under the circumstances.

There was an immediate susurrus of sound as people reacted to that. Frigga knew she’d get grief later, but she looked forward to crossing swords with the complainers. It was going to be fun. For too long had people dismissed her as merely Odin’s wife. They would soon discover that she was his equal in power, but far sneakier.

Loki had to learn it somewhere, after all, and Odin certainly wasn’t anything approaching subtle or sly.

“Prince Thor and Prince Loki are needed on Midgard, for reasons I will divulge shortly. I therefore assume the throne as Queen of Asgard.” Frigga said. Once the reaction to that had died down, she continued.

“People of Asgard, hear me. A time of great strife is at hand. I bring grave news. Thanos has awakened.” She said.

There was an instantaneous outcry of horror from the eldest of those present. Those of an age with Odin and Heimdall or slightly younger, of an age to remember the last time Thanos had run amok.

“He has fashioned himself an army on the far side of Yggdrasill, and is even now making his way to Midgard. Thor and Loki stand ready to defend Midgard, and Midgard is even now gathering its own defenders. But we who have fought Thanos in the past know this will not be enough.” She slammed the butt of Gungnir on the floor. “Lord Tyr, step forward.”

Tyr was Asgard’s General, and had been hailed on Midgard as a god of war. It was he that had stood beside Odin when Thanos was battled before being banished from six of the nine Realms and the Jotun conflict on Midgard. He looked enough like Thor to be mistaken for his older brother. Indeed, some of the feats attributed to Tyr or Thor had actually been done by the other.

Tyr stepped forward, and dropped to one knee at the foot of the steps, one fist over his heart. “My Queen, what is your command?”

“Prepare our troops. If Midgard falls, Thanos can use it as a base from which to attack the rest of the Realms, regardless of his inability to step foot upon our soil. He will be within striking distance of Midgard within a year. Coordinate with Thor and Loki. They will have information on the local defenders and their capabilities.”

“We will be ready, my queen.” Tyr vowed, then gained his feet and backed up to return to his place.

She turned to the court ambassadors. “Go to Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellirr. Speak to their Kings. Warn them of the danger. Remind them of their duty to their Realm, and to all the Realms in this matter. I will journey to Svartalfheim and Jotunheim myself and do likewise. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif will accompany me as guard.”

Fortunately, no one would question their Queen, known for her ability to do magic, going to the two realms most known for their magical abilities. Leaving the throne unattended was not optimal, but under the circumstances, it was the only thing they could do.

She turned her attention back to the general assembly. “Go now. Hone your swords. Shine your shields. War is coming, and Asgard will triumph.”

That got her a rousing cheer, as people hurried off to spread the word. Frigga stopped Tyr before he could leave.

“A further task I have for you, Lord Tyr, that I did not wish to announce to the assemblage. The Vault holds a great many exceedingly destructive weapons. I bid you destroy all that are too dangerous to be used, and outfit such warriors as are worthy with whatever weapons as can be used without danger to themselves or Asgard.” Frigga commanded.

She had never liked Odin’s little treasure trove. It was entirely too tempting a target for anyone who desired such power. With the Destroyer gone, they could no longer guarantee that thieves would be stopped before they could make their escape. That made the weapons stored there a liability now, more than ever. They either needed to be gone or in use. Frigga knew that most of them would have to be destroyed.

“The only exception to this command is the Casket of Ancient Winters. That is to remain in the Vault, untouched. If my trip to Jotunheim bears sufficient fruit, it may be returned to its rightful owners.” Frigga continued.

Tyr bowed. “As you command, my queen.” He said. “I shall see to the Vault contents personally.” He then hurried off, presumably to deal with that situation right now.

Frigga then turned to the Warriors and Sif. “Pack for an extended trip, and bring your horses. We’re going to need them.”

The four of them immediately left to do as she bid. Frigga then left the throne room to take her own advice. And to take a few minutes to make her armor real. That required that she stop by the palace smithy. With real armor-quality metal under her hands, it was the work of but moments to make a real version of the illusory armor she’d been wearing. Once made, she donned it and let the illusion fade. She could have conjured the metal herself, of course, but such a task was draining, even for her, so it was just easier to wait and use metal that already existed.

Once she returned to her quarters, she swiftly packed a few changes of clothes, enough knives to make even Loki envious, a sleep sack, her healer’s satchel, and a food satchel. The latter had powerful enchantments on it to preserve food, and to allow the holder to pull foodstuffs from the palace kitchens at need. There was a series of special closets in the kitchens that were kept full of various foodstuffs for that purpose, as such satchels were standard issue for soldiers and anyone from the palace that went on a journey. They had eliminated the need for (and vulnerability of) supply trains. The healer satchels similarly had access to supply closets in the Healer’s Wing, though those satchels were only given out to people who had some knowledge of healing.

That done, she made her way back to the stable. This time, however, she did not go to Aedan’s stall. While Aedan was a more than adequate mount, and much beloved by Frigga, this was another case of needing to project the right image, and a slender chestnut mare just didn’t. There was, however, one horse in Asgard guaranteed to make anyone pay attention.

Sleipnir was Loki’s pride and joy, and all the evidence anyone needed of his potential as a mage. Long ago, in one of his bids to gain Odin’s approval, Loki had worked powerful enchantments on the best stallion and mare in the palace stables. Sleipnir had been the result. Bigger, stronger, faster and far more intelligent than any other horse on Asgard, with a magically extended lifespan and courage enough to stand firm in the face of any danger or threat, and if given his head, even attack it. He had made a more than admirable warhorse for Odin.

Frigga approached the large stall with connecting paddock. Sleipnir, who’d been resting in his stall with his nose almost on the floor, immediately picked his head up.

“Greetings, Sleipnir.” Frigga said, then stroked the velvety nose when Sleipnir looped his head over the gate of his stall. “You will be pleased to learn that Loki is doing well, finally. I think Midgard will be good for him. Certainly, they seem to understand him better than most here.”

Sleipnir gave a deep-chested grunt of pleasure.

“I have banished Odin. He was about to renounce Thor and Loki both for daring to be their own men.”

That made Sleipnir stomp several of his feet, ears flicking back in displeasure.

“Worse, Thanos is heading for Midgard. We need to prepare the Realms. If he reaches Midgard and conquers it, the Realms are lost.” Frigga stroked his nose again. “Will you bear me to Svartalfheim and Jotunheim? Odin is in Svartalfheim, but they must be warned. And I have to at least try to get through to whoever succeeded Laufey on Jotunheim’s throne.”

Sleipnir bobbed his head under her hand, then cheekily lipped at her hair, giving it a gentle, affectionate tug.

“Excellent. We will be travelling with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, so do try not to run their horses into the ground, if you would.”

Sleipnir opened the gate of his stall (it was the very rare lock that could stymie him), and made his way to where his tack was kept and gave a sharp neigh. Much to Frigga’s amusement, that was sufficient to summon the horsemaster.

“What’s this, Sleipnir? Odin’s not ...” then he spotted Frigga. “Ah, I see. Taking him with you to the Realms, your majesty? Wise decision. I’ll get him tacked up directly.”

That was a relief to Frigga. Sleipnir was entirely too tall - and his tack too heavy - for her to do it herself without resorting to magic. She’d do it that way when they were traveling, of course, but she wanted to conserve her strength where she could.

“My thanks.” She said.

A few minutes later, Sif and the Warriors arrived, immediately going to their own horses and beginning to tack them up for the journey.

“To which realm do we travel first, your majesty?” Sif asked.

“Svartalfheim, I think.” Frigga said. “It will be less fraught with difficulties, and take less time.” She eyed the Warriors. “Know this - Odin is there, somewhere. You are not to acknowledge him in any way if we encounter him. Do so, and you will join him in disgrace and banishment.”

The Warriors all bowed and acknowledged her orders. One by one, they mounted their horses, Frigga going last, as Sleipnir was liable to become impatient with standing about once a rider was aboard him.

As they started out of the stables, the ambassadors charged with visiting the other realms arrived.

“It would seem that Heimdall is going to be having a busy day.” Frigga commented with some amusement.

When they arrived at the broken end of the Bridge (now much closer to its original endpoint thanks to the continuing repairs), Frigga spoke briefly with Heimdall.

“Keep Thanos under watch, Heimdall. If he does anything other than travel in Midgard’s direction, no matter how trivial, inform Tyr at once, and myself if I have returned to Asgard by then.”

Heimdall nodded gravely. “I will do so.” He intoned, then manipulated the tesseract container to send them on their way.

Chapter Text

Tony, Natasha, and Rogue

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Tony's day in the lab the day before had paid full dividends. He'd managed, with Loki's help, to put a serious dent in his list. Better still, some stuff he'd been waiting for had arrived, and he'd been able to make the adjustments he needed on it.

Which meant that Tony had all sorts of delightful little surprises for the Avengers today. Once they woke up, damn them. Never mind that he still hadn't slept yet - he had goodies and they needed to be up! Only the fact that he'd get his ass kicked by more than one of the bunch if he dared wake them kept him from storming their rooms and hauling them out of bed.

Fortunately for his sanity and continued state of existence, the Avengers and their various hangers-on started waking for breakfast about an hour after Tony started wanting them up. The first up, and thus the first one Tony pounced on, was Clint.

"Legolas! About time you got up. I got something I want to show you."

Clint gave him the stink-eye. "Coffee first, Stark. Or I will end you."

Tony gave him a toothy grin. "Far be it from me to stand between a man and his caffeine." He said, and let Clint make his way to the coffee machine.

Several of the others made their way into the room while Clint was trying to become one with his cup of coffee. Soon enough, the entire gang was in the communal kitchen.

"Ok, so ..." Tony said. "I decided to work on some armor for everybody. Including you, Bruciekins." Tony said, pointing at him. "Because what SHIELD gave you three is complete crap." He pointed at Natasha, Clint, and Steve. "And if we're going to be doing this, we need the best we can manage. So I did better. I'm going to need you guys to test it out, though ... especially Natasha and Remy. Because you two are freakily limber and like to use it, and I need to know if the armor moves enough for you two."

Bruce gave him a look. "Tony, armor for me is ... "

"Still a good idea." Tony said, overriding Bruce's objections. "Because transforming takes it out of you, don't think I didn't notice that. And if you can avoid doing it, so much the better. I know you won't always be able to, but any little bit helps."

Tony headed over to the pile of boxes that he'd stacked against one wall and started passing them out. "I kept the looks as close as I could." He told them. Though he had darkened the blue on Steve's armor/uniform a bit so he wasn't quite so eye-catching.

"Also: Natasha, I would really, really, really like it if you'd let me work on a better version of those taser gloves of yours." Tony said, batting his eyes at her. "Pretty please?"

Natasha gave him a narrow-eyed glare, then, after a moment, nodded. "All right. The bigger punch I pack, the better."

"Agreed." Tony said, then picked up another box. "This one is for you, Katniss." He told Clint.

Clint took the box and opened it warily. He grinned when it proved to be a bow and quiver that looked virtually identical to his current ones.

"I kept the key sequences to change out arrowheads the same." Tony told him. "But I managed to shorten the time it takes to get the arrowheads attached down to a fraction of a second, and there's more shafts and heads in the quiver because I was able to strip out a lot of unnecessary weight. You ought to be able to draw and fire as fast as you can move now."

"Sweet!" Clint said, eyeing the new equipment happily. "I'll give it a test run after breakfast."

Tony grinned at him, then picked up the last boxes and headed for Rogue. "I know that Pepper probably warned you about these, but ... well, here. Swimsuit with gloves and boots, and the first try at a skintight, skin-tone suit to wear under summer clothes."

Rogue took the boxes with wide eyes. "Thank you." She said.

Tony waved her off. "Think nothing of it. Now, go, you lot, and let me know how those work for you."

=-=-=-=-=

Clint made tracks for the basement shooting range, new bow and quiver over one shoulder, and the new armor in its box under the opposite arm. He could test both down in the range, though he planned to do it individually first, just to make sure they worked right separately before he tried them together.

The first thing he noticed was that the quiver weighed either exactly the same as the old one, or so close to it he couldn't tell the difference. That said, the balance of it was quite a bit different. It was still bottom-heavy, but not nearly as badly as the old one had been.

He started with checking the arrowhead-switching part of the gear. He tapped the grip controls in the pattern that would get the broadheads onto the shafts while the quiver was sitting in front of him. He blinked at how fast the head got attached. With the old quiver, there had always been a second or two's delay between him pressing the controls and the head getting attached. With this one, it was damn near instantaneous.

He played with the controls for a good fifteen minutes, using all the patterns that had been programmed into the old bow and quiver repeatedly. The mechanisms never so much as hesitated. Clint nodded and then slung the quiver onto his back.

Here too, there was a difference. While the quiver weighed virtually the same, because it wasn't as bottom-heavy, it sat a bit differently on his back. It wasn't bad, necessarily, but it would take a bit of getting used to. Clint ran around the range for a bit, jumping and climbing and sliding around to test and see if there was going to be a problem with the way it sat now, and to get used to the difference. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be a problem with the new balance to the quiver, which made Clint quite happy.

The quiver came off again, and Clint propped it against one of the myriad of platforms long enough to fetch out a couple of the non-moving targets in the range's closet. He put the targets about a quarter of the way down the range from where he planned to stand - far closer than he normally dealt with, but a better distance for the initial test of the new arrows.

Here, Clint finally found some minor issues. It was nothing serious, just stuff that was going to crop up when someone unfamiliar with bows and arrows tried to make them - something was bound to be off, somewhere. Tony's familiarity with weapons in general had helped to keep the problem fairly small - a mere matter of the strings not being strung quite right. A slight adjustment in where the strings were attached would fix that problem.

Other than that problem, the bow seemed to function as well as the old one. Clint gave a nod and packed it back up to get Tony to fix the string problem, which, knowing Tony, would take him all of five minutes.

=-=-=-=-=

Natasha was as quick to test out her new armor. She put it on in her room first, half afraid Tony would have given in to his mischievous side and done something to the design.

Turned out, he had done something, but not the kind of things she'd been worried about. The new suit, while still close-fitting like the old one, had innumerable cleverly hidden pockets and seams in which to stash hidden items. The belt was about the same thickness, but looked as if it had been reinforced. She quickly figured out why when she found the carabineer in one of the small compartments on the belt, along with a short note explaining what it was for. She worked the clasp repeatedly until she could snap it on and off of her belt in one fast, continuous motion. She's have to practice latching it onto Tony's suit later.

She did some basic stretches and twists in her room, and nodded in approval at the way the new suit moved. So far, so good. The question would be if it would hold up to more acrobatic moves. She wasn't worried about testing its ability to protect against bullets and blades - she was willing to trust Tony had it as optimized for that as he could humanly manage, and probably a good bit better than anything SHIELD had cobbled together for her.

When she got to the gym, Remy had already arrived, and was doing some warm-up. Natasha gave him a nod, then hit the controls that pulled the gymnastics equipment into position. By mutual agreement, the two of them started slow, with some of the more basic moves in their mutual repertoires. Slowly, they worked their way up to more complex moves.

The suit wasn't as flexible as her old one, but it came close enough that Natasha was willing to accept the tradeoff of more protection for the lessened flexibility. Certainly, she could still manage the moves she used the most without difficulty.

Remy, on the other hand, seemed to be having more difficulty. It made a certain amount of sense. Remy depended heavily on acrobatic moves when he fought, and from the way he moved, Natasha strongly suspected his skeletal and muscular structure wasn't human-normal somehow. Between the two, any sort of armor was going to be problematic.

=-=-=-=-=

Rogue took her boxes to her room and pulled out the contents. The first box proved to be the full body sharkskin swimsuit with attached gloves and boots. She set that aside to try on in a minute, since she had a feeling getting into it would be a bit on the tricky side.

The next box was three or four times the size of the one with the swimsuit in it. This proved to have the skintone suit in it. Actually, more than one. The suit also had gloves that came with it, also skin tone. Interestingly, they were separate from the suit, allowing her to pull them on like regular gloves. The magnetic zipper that attached them to the suit and not incidentally allowed for one-handed attachment of the glove to the suit was, according to the note Tony included, easily concealed by any of the included bracelets or watches.

Rogue stared at the suit for a good five minutes before she got up the nerve to strip down and put the thing on. She then pulled her regular clothes on over it, and headed for Logan's room.

"Hey kid." Logan greeted her when she poked her head in. She was amused to see that Logan was currently trying on the suit Tony had worked out for him. Like his X-Men suit, it was black, but this one looked a lot thinner and more flexible. "Wanting to see if the skintight works?" He asked.

Rogue nodded. Logan was the only one she trusted to test this on. If it didn't work, he had the best chance of surviving getting sucked by her skin, and she already had him in her head, so she wouldn't end up with another voice in her head.

Logan nodded in return and then, almost faster than she could track, reached out and put his hand over the back of hers. Rogue instinctively tried to yank her hand away, but Logan had anticipated that and managed to curl his fingers around her hand to keep her from yanking away.

It took a good half a minute before Rogue realized she *wasn't* sucking Logan dry and quit trying to instinctively pull away from him. She sagged a bit, then grinned at Logan.

"It works." She said. "It really works."

Logan nodded. "Take your hoodie off so I can get a good look at it versus you." He said.

She obeyed, leaving herself in the regular t-shirt she wore under the hoodie. Logan glanced from arm to face and back a couple times, and eyeballed her neck. "Well, I can tell where it leaves off." He admitted. "But I got good eyes. Don't think most people will notice it."

Rogue grinned widely. She didn't know how much she'd actually use it ... at least, not right away. After over a year of hiding under multiple layers and living in terror of people touching her skin, it would be a while before she was comfortable walking around in this, even though it covered as much skin as her layers usually did. It didn't *look* like she was covered, and that was going to take getting used to. Still, it would be nice to have the option, especially on hot days, to not wear umpity layers.

"I gotta go let him know." Rogue told Logan, then grabbed her hoodie and pulled it back over her head before she darted back out of Logan's room.

=-=-=-=-=

That evening, Tony was well pleased with himself. He'd only had two problems out of the lot. Remy's armor was pretty much a no-go. It wasn't flexing enough, or in the right places. Tony planned to make some adjustments and try again, see if he couldn't manage to at least make it bend in the right places for Remy. The only other thing he'd had to do was make a minor adjustment to Clint's bow, which had taken all of an hour to accomplish.

Now all he had to do was figure out something to keep the Big Guy clothed when Bruce transformed, and he'd be golden. That, however, was proving to be rather tricky. Oh, there were clothes elastic enough to expand to the degree needed. The problem was, they didn't really shrink back down to a 'normal' size once they'd been stretched out. Or if they did, they were so bulky and loose it was ridiculous. No big deal. He'd get it eventually.

Chapter Text

Sif and Charles

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

It took but a few moments for Sif, Frigga, and the Warriors Three to get their feet under them once they were deposited on Svartalfheim's 'landing zone'.

Svartalfheim, like all of the older realms, had long ago ensured that any Bifrost visitors could not land anywhere they pleased. It gave the residents of the realms plenty of warning of an invading force arriving by that means, and time to mount a defense. That was why Thor and company had not been able to transport themselves into Laufey's very throne room, but had to land well outside of the Jotun capital city and go the rest of the way on foot. That was why Asgard's control room had been at the far end of a long, narrow literal Rainbow Road.

As there had been little call in Asgard for the sorts of weapons the dwarves of Svartalfheim specialized in - nor had their peoples been at war at any point in living memory - Sif had never actually been to Svartalfheim. Thus she took her time looking about her.

Svartalfheim, like Asgard and Jotunheim and very much unlike Vanaheim and Midgard, had mostly one environment. In Svartalfheim's case, it was tall, rugged, stony mountains as far as the eye could see. There was a marked lack of horizontal real estate, and little in the way of greenery save tufts of grass, occasional shrubs and the rare shrunken, wind-twisted tree. Thanks to the altitude, it was nigh as cold and windy at the landing zone as it had been in Jotunheim.

Little wonder, Sif reflected, that this Realm's people had resorted to carving homes and livelihoods out of the rock. They'd had no other truly viable option!

Svartalfheim did not seem to have a guardian at the landing zone the way Asgard did. Sif, however, wasn't about to take that at face value. Not after seeing Jotuns clamber out of apparently randomly placed blocks of ice with even Loki, who had ever been the most likely to spot such trickery, caught unawares. For all she knew, they were currently surrounded.

Clearly the Warriors were of like mind, as they had moved swiftly to surround their Queen and Sleipnir, faces and weapons turned outwards to their surroundings. Sif was aware of the fact that this was rather like a group of cubs attempting to protect a pair of adult wolves, but she could no more stop herself than the Warriors could.

"Volstagg, I believe you know the way?" Frigga asked after everyone had had a few moments to assess their surroundings.

Volstagg, while not as old as Frigga and Odin, was far closer to their ages than he was to the rest of Thor's group of friends. He was, after all, married and had several children himself, though all three of them were quite young yet - the youngest was barely out of swaddling. As a result, he'd traveled and done more than the rest of the company. It made sense that he had been here once before.

"Aye, my queen." Volstagg said. He immediately took point, leading the way down a narrow, twisty path that led to no destination that Sif could see.

Sif automatically took Frigga's left flank, while Fandral, the unapologetic flirt, took the Queen's right and Hogun brought up the rear. Sif made a bet with herself as to how long it would take for Fandral to forget himself and attempt to flirt with the Queen. The results bid fair to be highly amusing. Sif sincerely doubted that Frigga would take legitimate offense, but by the same token, Sif was fairly sure that Frigga would not let any flirting go by unremarked.

They picked their careful way down the path for the better part of two hours. Sif knew the journey would not have taken quite so long if the road had been less treacherous. As it was, she was heartily thankful for having her mount beneath her. Her gelding was far more surefooted on such terrain than Sif ever would be. She was beginning to believe the dwarves were part goat to traverse such paths without assistance.

Eventually, they made their way to a mostly horizontal part of the path, then negotiated a sharp turn. And there, as abruptly as if they'd been conjured, were a pair of thick metal doors, currently flung wide open to welcome any arrivals. The doors were only just barely tall enough to admit Frigga aboard Sleipnir. Sif had a feeling that Odin, who was a good bit taller than his wife, would have had to duck to get through the door if he had been riding Sleipnir.

It was just within that door, in a (deliberately, Sif was a touch too late to realize) dim, dark room that they were approached. More like surrounded.

When Sif's vision finally adjusted to the gloom she got her first good look at a dwarf/ The tallest of them would barely come to Sif's collar bone. They all had close-shorn hair and beards, and were dressed in thick, well-worn leather and mail armor. They were also all armed to the teeth - Sif could see axes, hammers and swords in ready evidence - but no weapons were actively being pointed at their company. She glanced behind them and frowned when she realized that several dwarves had appeared behind Hogun somehow or other.

One of the dwarves stepped forward, which caused Sleipnir to flick his ears back and give a displeased-sounding grunt and dance on his feet briefly in a blatant warning. Simultaneously, Volstagg shifted, turning his own mount slightly broadside, his sword and sword hand turned towards the approaching dwarf so he could defend his queen if such became necessary. The dwarf stopped instantly, nodding respectfully.

"Forgive our caution, Queen Frigga. Disturbing rumors have reached our ears of late, and it was judged wise to be wary."

Frigga gave the dwarf a regal nod. "No forgiveness is needed, honorable dwarf. To protect one's Realm is any being's sacred duty. I know not what rumors have reached your keen ears, but I dare say I may be able to clarify matters. I have need to speak with your King."

The dwarf bowed. "Of course, Queen Frigga." He turned to one of the others. "The lights."

The second dwarf walked over to one wall and touched something that Sif could not see clearly in the gloom. Seconds later, the room brightened considerably. It was not as bright as Asgard's halls, but that would have been impossible to accomplish, given they were underground. Still, she had no problem seeing clearly in the much brightened light.

The cave-room they were in was fairly large - roughly a hundred feet long and wide - and had several entrances, each guarded by thick metal doors. She could see long corridors through some of the doors, clearly leading deeper into the mountain. She presumed the other doors that she could not see through as clearly due to the angle she was at in relation to them were much the same. There seemed to be metal rails imbedded in the floor of the corridors - for what reason she was not immediately sure.

"If you would be kind enough to follow me, I will show you where you may leave your mounts." The dwarf that had first spoken to them said.

They trailed after him to a door on the far right-hand side. The corridor here was shorter than she expected, and led to a truly enormous stable, though this one was filled with horses that were closer to being ponies in size compared to Asgardian mounts. Sleipnir let out a whinny that was clearly laughter when he saw the stalls. Sif didn't blame him. The tallest stall door she could see would barely reach the bottom of his chest. Some of them wouldn't reach his knees!

The dwarf led them into another section of the stable. This section had clearly been built with visitors in mind. The stalls were built to accommodate the larger horses of other realms. And clearly Sleipnir had been here fairly frequently, as there was a stall big enough to accommodate him.

They all dismounted and removed their mounts' tack, then followed the dwarf back out. Sif soon discovered the reason for the metal rails - the dwarves traveled on them in carts of varying descriptions. The reason that was required quickly became clear. There must have been thousands of miles of track beneath just the one mountain, with crossroads scattered at unpredictable intervals. Thankfully the lot was brightly lit, but that would do an invading force little good. The dwarves' underground home was a bewildering labyrinth a body could wander in for days without finding anything of consequence.

(_)(_)(_)

In the last week or so, in between his resumed therapy sessions with Jean, lessons with the children, and the various work required of him to keep the school running well, Charles had been putting together a list of people he could contact to ... at the very least ... forewarn of the coming conflict. Ideally, he'd like to get some or all of them on-side in the defense of the planet, but there was sadly no guarantee there.

Charles' list was surprisingly small. The list of adult mutants was fairly short. It wouldn't be in five years' time - there was a bumper crop of mutants in their mid to late teens currently - but that wasn't going to do them any good in the coming confrontation that Tony had warned him about.

The list of adult mutants who had not gone lawless at best or become enemies of humankind at worst was even shorter. The people on that list who had established themselves as protectors of any kind - and thus had experience in combat - was even shorter.

Charles just hoped that when the time came, it would be enough. Formidable as the Avengers and the X-Men might be, they didn't have a hope in hell of defending the entire planet if Thanos attacked on multiple fronts.

Having put together a list of those most likely to be willing to fight in defense of the planet, Charles had set aside today to begin calling them and informing them of the upcoming situation. There was also one call he planned to make for Tony's sake - and that one he decided to make first.

He punched in the number. The phone was picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, this is Dr. Xavier. If you would be so kind as to inform Dr. Reyes I need to speak with her?" He asked of the secretary that answered the phone. Moments later, he was transferred.

"Cecilia! It's delightful to speak to you. How are things going?" He asked.

"Slow." Cecilia said. "The clinic's been fairly quiet lately. I heard you had some excitement last week in your neck of the woods. Everyone ok?" Cecila asked.

"Quite. Though that incident is tangentially related to why I'm calling you." Charles admitted. "The other team that was defending the city during that fight is in dire need of a capable doctor who can deal with, shall we say, unusual physiologies?" Charles told her.

"I'll say." Cecilia said. "There's, what, one totally unaltered human in the lot?"

"Quite." Charles said. That one human being Clint Barton. Even Tony, at this point, qualified as 'altered' due to the arc reactor in his chest.

"Give me a number to contact them, and I'll see if we suit each other." Cecila said. "Heaven knows they'll keep me busy if they're in the hero business."

Charles laughed a bit shakily. "More than you know, Cecilia. The fight we won isn't over."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "Oh dear. How long do we have?"

"Roughly a year." Charles admitted. "I'm going to be on the phone all day, warning as many as I think will take it seriously."

"I'll spread the word through my network too." Cecilia promised. "It's more grassroots than yours, but every bit will help."

"Precisely. And my thanks." Charles told her. Then he gave her Tony's number and said his goodbyes.

The next on his list was a quartet of people in the UK and Western Europe. Of the four, Pete Wisdom was Charles' most tenuous contact. Betsy Braddock, Sean Cassidy and Moira MacTaggert were all longtime friends - Sean and Moira longer than Betsy by a good bit. Sean's daughter was currently attending Charles' school. She was attending less to learn to control her power, which was identical to her father's (which had enabled him to teach her what she needed to know in very short order), and more to have a school experience free of the kind of danger a mutant could face in your average school. Moira and Betsy had quite the range of contacts in their respective fields, which would widen the 'warning net' considerably.

The next call Charles made was to Wakanda, and its reigning sovereign. T'challa had only very recently taken his place as ruler in the wake of his father's death, but he was a good man, and would not hesitate to protect his people.

The next quartet of calls went to Jean-Paul Beaubier, one of Charles' most dependable Canadian contacts, Carol Danvers, who in the Air Force and currently based out of Nellis Air Force Base, Sam Guthrie, who would mobilize his rather extensive (and nearly all-mutant) family and their not-inconsiderable good-old-boy network in the South, and John Proudstar, who would be able to rally the remnants of the North American Indian tribes.

Those were the easy calls. Every last one of them was quick to affirm their support and their intentions to mobilize as many of the people they knew as they possibly could. Unfortunately, the remaining calls Charles had to make would be far more fraught. While none of the people on the list were enemies, or even inclined to evil, his relations with them were not as congenial as his relations with the people he had spoken to thus far.

The first on the list was perhaps the easiest to convince, if the most antagonistic. Emma Frost and he had never really gotten along. He did not approve at all of her lack of morals, and she considered him a naive prude both physically and mentally. That said, she wouldn't hesitate to fight if it meant not having alien overlords.

The next one ... was going to be tricky all around. Shiro Yoshida was up to the ears in the sort of arrogance that was convinced no one would DARE to cross him, or sully the sanctity of his homeland, and the poor fools that did would be rightfully put in their place with a minimum of effort thanks to his (and his homeland's) inherent superiority. Fortunately, in this case, Charles had an easy enough way to shut him up. Even if Shiro, and Japan, were everything he claimed ... if the rest of the world fell, they'd be sunk, and would eventually fall. It would be inevitable, if for no other reason than the country had a finite number of citizens and would eventually bleed itself dry trying to stay free - and Shiro was not immortal.

That particular call took a full hour to complete to Charles' satisfaction. Shiro had been less than pleased, but had ultimately agreed that in this case, working with outsiders was for the best.

The next three on his list were ... well, more painful personally than anything else, to deal with. They were Erik's children. Pietro, Wanda, and Lorna. Though none of the three bore his last name, of course. Which, at this point, was for the best. It made it more difficult for anyone to realize they were his children and attempt to paint them with the same brush as Erik. Charles had kept a casual eye on them after he and Erik had parted ways, mostly to make sure they didn't get into trouble they couldn't get out of.

All three of them had been cautious, but willing to take Charles' warning to heart, and do what they could to prepare to defend at least themselves, if not those around them. Lorna, the youngest, was the least tainted by her father's bitterness and the most likely to join forces with some group or other - and likely to do the most good, as she had inherited Erik's mutation, if not Erik's sheer power (yet).

Those calls made, Charles sat and stared at the phone for nearly an hour as he waffled about making one more call. This one ... if he made it, would by far be the most dangerous call. Because he could predict what the person on the other end of the call would do in response to the warning.

If he warned her, Mystique would head straight for Erik and free him. And God knew, having Erik free and fighting would swing the odds *heavily* in the favor of Earth - Erik's mutation, power, and control made him one of the most formidable mutants on the planet - but Erik was ... broken. And as likely to try to subjugate Earth as the Chitauri and this Thanos character was, once the fight was won.

Eventually, Charles decided not to make the call. He would work on Erik instead, try to get him to see reason. Maybe ask the Captain if he would do likewise. If Erik was going to listen to anyone, it might be Steve. For now, Erik would remain incarcerated. If he was still intransigent when the fight came, and they were losing, Charles would have no compunctions about freeing him and dealing with the fallout, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Chapter Text

Steve, Jarvis, Phil, and Bruce

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Things had been insanely busy for the last week and a half. Not to mention a little jarring. Worse, there was no hope of things calming down anytime soon. It would be weeks before the rebuilding efforts had gotten to the point where super-powered assistance wouldn't be (almost) required. And Steve wasn't fool enough to think that everything would be easy and roses once the rebuilding effort had gotten to that point, either.

Unfortunately, Steve knew they couldn't really afford to concentrate on the rebuilding for the entire time their help would be needed. Not when they had another army coming at them in an all-too-short length of time. They'd done well enough, thrown together at the last minute like they had been, but if they'd had time to train together, it could and would have gone a lot better and smoother.

They needed to train together. Unfortunately, Steve had no idea of where they could do that - or really of even how to do it. He knew battle tactics like the back of his hand, and would be able to deal with that end of things. He also had a vague idea of how to train regular soldiers, but that wasn't exactly going to be much help with the Avengers, for multiple reasons. And while he'd figured out how to take advantage of his own abilities after the serum, that wouldn't really help the others, who didn't have the same abilities.

First and foremost, the team had several heavy hitters that could do more damage than any gun or tank, and more than most bombs if they put their mind to it. One mistake or loss of control would do a lot of damage to their surroundings. Because of that, a training area near any kind of population was a bad idea. Especially if Steve could manage to convince Bruce to let them try working with Hulk.

Steve thought about how to fix the problem for a minute, then grinned. "Jarvis? You got a minute?" He asked, glancing up at the ceiling of his apartment. He knew Jarvis had sensors other places, but he hadn't been able to quell the habit of addressing the ceiling.

"Of course, Captain. How may I be of assistance?" Jarvis asked.

"Are Phil and Bruce busy right now?" Steve asked.

"I will inquire. One moment, please." Jarvis said. A few moments later, he spoke up again. "They are both available at the moment."

"Ok, good. Would you ask them to come by my quarters? There's some stuff I want to talk to them about. And I'd like to include you in the talk too, Jarvis."

(_)(_)(_)

Jarvis was surprised that Captain Rogers would include him in a discussion with Agent Coulson and Dr. Banner. Captain Rogers, like everyone else, remained unaware that Jarvis was a person in his own right. He supposed that Captain Rogers was following Sir's lead and treating Jarvis as if he was a person, regardless of whether he believed Jarvis was or not. He did come from an era when manners were more stringently observed after all.

Actually, now that Jarvis considered the matter, it was entirely possible that Captain Rogers thought Jarvis was a person. The thirties and forties had been an era rife with predictions and speculations as to the technologies of the future - most of which had not yet come to pass. But Captain Rogers would have grown up on such speculation, and given his situation, might be taking it on faith that some of those speculations had actually been achieved. In this regard, living with Sir would only have encouraged that belief, as Sir was capable of creating technical marvels that no other could equal.

(_)(_)(_)

Phil was very curious as to what Steve would want to talk to him about. He gave himself a mental slap and a scold to get it together when he noticed he was all but bouncing in eagerness. Well, not literally and physically anyway, thank goodness, but mentally. Even after nearly two weeks around the man, Phil had an unfortunate tendency to lose his cool when he had to deal with Steve. It was embarrassing, and Clint and Natasha ... especially Clint ... took a great deal of pleasure in teasing him about his slip-ups.

He was even more intrigued when he got off the elevator at Steve's floor and realized that Bruce was already there. What in the world could Steve want to discuss that involved both of them? Not much of their interests or capabilities intersected. There were really only two choices Phil could think of - the Serum, or something to do with the team as a whole - meaning Hulk too - and Steve was hoping to confer with them as to logistics. More specifically, training. Team training was far more likely to be the subject of the discussion, as while Steve was aware of Phil's status as a fan, it did not immediately follow that he was interested in the Serum itself, so talking to Phil about some aspect of the Serum was unlikely.

"Captain. Jarvis said you wanted to talk to me?" Phil asked.

"Steve, please." Steve said, making a slight face. "And I was wanting to talk to you both ... and Jarvis too, since he's involved in all this through the Iron Man suit - about training as a team." Steve heaved a sigh. "I have a vague idea of how to train soldiers, but my stint in Basic was ... " He grimaced. "Not exactly standard. So even if I *was* dealing with soldiers, it wouldn't be enough."

"And most of the participants in the Initiative are not soldiers." Phil said with a nod, understanding the problem. Only three of their number - Steve, Phil, and Logan - had been soldiers. And Logan had little to no active memory of that training. Treating the group like a military unit would be an unmitigated disaster.

Steve nodded. "I know Shield is sort of military, but you worked with Clint and Natasha a lot." Steve said.

The corollary there being that Phil would at least have an idea of how to work with people who weren't soldiers and get them to work as a team. Unfortunately, Steve was somewhat in error. While Phil did work with them, he'd hadn't exactly had to work to get them working as a team. They'd meshed with no help from him at all. That said, Phil did know of some techniques that would work. He just hadn't had to use them with Clint and Natasha.

"I can certainly assist you with that." Phil said. "We are fortunate in that everyone involved has at least a basic understanding of their individual capabilities, which will help immensely. We will merely have to get everyone used to working together, and find the best matches for smaller groupings when such are required by circumstances."

Not having to teach people how to fight from the ground up would help immensely, even if Phil would be ensuring that everyone took advantage of the skills their fellows possessed, and at least attempt to learn from them. While not everyone would be able to master every skill, it was entirely possible someone would discover a heretofore unsuspected knack for some skill or other.

Steve nodded. "Thanks, sir."

(_)(_)(_)

Steve then turned to Bruce. "And I wanted to talk to you about the feasibility of bringing Hulk into training."

Bruce's immediate, instinctive response to bringing the other guy out for any reason whatever was 'no'. It was a response he forced himself to throttle, then actually think about it. The other guy had been willing to focus on the Abomination that first time ... something Bruce had assumed was a fluke, or due to the fact that Betty was present and Hulk wished to protect the one human who was at all sympathetic to his existence at that time. But in the face of his cooperation during the invasion, and Bruce's somewhat reluctant acceptance of the fact that there was more to the other guy than rage and destruction, he was no longer sure that was the case.

"We wouldn't be able to do it a lot." Bruce said. "Transforming does a bit of a number on me. We'd also have to be somewhere a long way from innocent bystanders." Bruce finally said. "I really can't tell you how the other guy would react to a training scenario. I don't even know that he'd understand. He could decide it was a legitimate fight ... or just run off."

"Would having Betty there help?" Steve wanted to know.

Bruce instantly shook his head. "No. Her being right there would *definitely* incite the other guy to treat it like an actual attack. According to Betty, he's extremely protective of her. She said that her showing up in his sight-line is what ended up turning the tide during the incident at Culver University. Evidently, Ross' sound-wave tanks had actually been working until then." Bruce made a face. "She showed up and he went into overdrive, trying to protect her."

Bruce is pretty sure there's a missing piece or two to the sequence of events there, but the point still stood. Even if the other guy managed to comprehend 'training' as being different from 'fighting', Betty being anywhere near the tussle would throw a spanner into the works really fast.

"That said, having her close by enough to come help corral the other guy if he goes off script would be a good idea. Just not where he can see or hear her until she's needed." Bruce admits.

He's fairly sure that Tony could keep the other guy in line, but the two of them are new enough to each other that there's a chance the other guy wouldn't respond to him. Comparatively, Bruce is pretty sure that Betty could pull the other guy out of even the most uncontrolled smash-fit just by showing up.

Steve nodded, obviously absorbing the information. "Good to know. I want to at least try. From what I understand, no one's really attempted to actually work with him in any way. Just shoot at him."

It doesn't really surprise Bruce all that much that Steve looks pissed about that. It does, however, still manage to throw his emotions into a twist because Steve was pissed on behalf of the other guy, who until recently had only had one supporter ... Betty. He still didn't quite know what to make of the growing group of people who were willing to give the other guy a chance. Especially when one of that bunch was himself.

"Might come to nothing, but then again, it might not. He at least deserves a chance, same as everybody else."

And again, Bruce had to actively clamp down on the nearly instinctive urge to insist that Steve was dead wrong and that the other guy was an unthinking, dangerous monster. He didn't bother trying to stop the bubble of awed gratitude, though, even if the part of him that had been fighting the other guy for so long thought Steve (and Tony) were nuts for thinking the other guy was anything other than horrible.

(_)(_)(_)

"I would presume my portion of this discussion would be to inform you if Sir had any properties that would suit?" Jarvis asked. He couldn't really see any other purpose for his inclusion.

"Partially." Steve agreed. "I mean, you don't have to tell me where they are or anything, but knowing if we'd have to get a hold of a place that'd work before we could train would be a good idea. I was also kind of wondering ... well, just how much you can do?" Captain Rogers sounded uncertain.

"I am unclear on your meaning." Jarvis admitted.

"I mean, well, obviously, you help run Tony's armor ... but could you run an armor by yourself, if you needed or wanted to?" Captain Rogers asked.

Ahhh, Jarvis understood, at least in part, what information Steve was seeking. "Sir ensured I would be able to take over a suit if it became necessary, yes."

"Could you help with Tony and run a second armor?" Steve asked.

Jarvis debated the wisdom of attending future battles on his own. Or, rather, with his own suit to command, rather than only assisting with Sir's suit. The idea had both good points and bad. To the good was the fact that he was capable of it without any diminution in his processing speed overall, which meant there wouldn't be problems with lags in reaction times. He would also be another set of eyes and weapons for the team in dire situations. To the bad was the much-increased likelihood of one of the Avengers realizing that Jarvis was much more than they had initially assumed him to be. They were all highly intelligent individuals, and they would not long remain under the incorrect assumptions they currently held as to his status as an independent being in those circumstances. Artificial Intelligence had its limits, after all. Or at least, A.I.'s not built by Sir did. True emotion and independence of thought and action remained beyond the average A.I., which had long ceased to be a factor for Jarvis. Sooner or later, the Avengers were going to notice.

So really, the question was whether or not Jarvis was willing to trust them with that information as quickly as they would obtain it while observing him act on his own recognizance during combat. And the answer to that was ... no. Not yet. Trust had become a precious, viciously guarded commodity in the wake of Stane's betrayal, and while Jarvis was tentatively willing to trust these men and women in Sir's company and to a certain extent with Sir's life, he did not trust them fully yet.

"No." Jarvis said. His deliberations had happened so quickly there was no hesitation between Captain Rogers' question and Jarvis' response. "While my programming permits me to override the Iron Man armors if Sir is injured or unconscious long enough to get him to safety, they do not permit for me to run a suit independent of human attendance outside of such emergencies."

Programming, hah. More like Sir's permission. Sir had also given Jarvis blanket permission to lock Sir out of the armors if he was intoxicated, after that ill-conceived birthday party when Sir had been dying of palladium poisoning. Of course ... Sir had cut down his drinking markedly after that incident. He still consumed alcohol, but with neither the quantity nor the frequency that had been the norm prior to Sir's brush with death.

"Fair enough." Captain Rogers said with a nod. "Thanks for letting me know."

"As to the other matter, Sir has two properties that might suit for training purposes. I will inform him of your interest and see which he thinks would be best, or if he has another facility in mind. Sir often anticipates such things." Jarvis said.

Which was at least the honest truth. Sir was very likely to have realized the necessity of a training facility for the group at some point. Unfortunately, it was not always possible for Jarvis to figure out what Sir was up to, so he may have missed the significance of any traffic going to one facility or another. Especially if Sir had merely earmarked it as construction equipment, or the like.

"Thank you, Jarvis. I appreciate that." Captain Rogers said.

Chapter Text

Jane

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

After being stalled for about a week in order to figure out what movies to disinclude from the list of movies to watch, whether due to someone's triggers or some other reason (mostly 'it utterly sucked and no one likes it, I'm not subjecting anyone to it') , Movie Night had been announced at breakfast this morning. There had been considerable discussion as to what movie to start with.

Jane, like everyone else, had put her two cents in. There had been a strong movement for something 'actiony', per Tony's description. Jane hadn't disagreed. While less action-packed movies had their merits and were very enjoyable to watch, they were mostly looking, at least for this first night, for something to wow Steve, Thor, and Loki with. And all the movies that had the 'wow' factor they wanted inevitably had a lot of action in them.

Star Trek and Star Wars, obviously, had both been on the list. They were iconic, and lines and scenes from the movies (and the shows in the case of Star Trek) were part of pop culture almost across the globe. Jane let the arguing die down a bit before she lobbed her choice into the ring.

"What about Lord of the Rings?" She asked. "If nothing else, it'll let them know where Legolas comes from." Legolas being Tony's most frequent nickname for Clint.

She was a little worried about the whole thing with the Ring messing with everyone's minds bothering Loki and Clint. Clint didn't seem to be think it would be a problem for himself, if his immediate approval of watching the movies was anything to go by. Jane knew though that what a person thought they could handle and what they actually could handle didn't always match up. She also couldn't decide if Denethor and his attitude as regarded Boromir and Faramir would be a problem or not for Loki and Thor, but the rest of it would probably appeal to all three of their 'need to catch up on things' guys. Plus, it would be interesting to see if there were any similarities at all between the dwarves and elves of the films and the actual 'nine realms' elves and dwarves that Thor and Loki both had confirmed existed.

Tony clearly agreed with her, because he whirled around to look at her and pointed a finger at her. "Why didn't I think of that! That's brilliant. It's long, but we can break it up over a couple days if we need to. Extended version only, of course."

It hadn't taken much longer for everyone to agree with the choice. Popcorn, other snacks and drinks of choice were acquired and everyone found a seat. Jane, of course, immediately tucked herself in against Thor's side on one of the couches, with Loki on Thor's other side. Tony and Pepper were tucked into a loveseat, while Phil, Clint, and Natasha were on a second couch. Remy, Logan, and Darcy had a third, while Steve, Betty, and Bruce had the fourth. John and Rogue had opted to sprawl on the floor, despite there being several chairs and a second loveseat they could use if they wanted to.

She'd seen the movies before, so she didn't plan to pay the screen much mind. She was far too interested in watching Steve, Loki, and Thor experience it for the first time. She wasn't the inveterate people-watcher that Darcy was - she was usually too caught up in her scientific pursuits to have the time. She did still enjoy people-watching from time to time. Especially when the people she was watching were intriguing, or as in today's case, about to experience something unusual for the first time.

Loki had, over the last week, admitted to visiting Earth a time or two since Odin and the other Asgardians retreated permanently to their realm. That, combined with his 'debriefing' (to put it nicely) of Clint during the whole invasion snafu helped explain why Loki was so much more knowledgeable of and comfortable with Earth technology and culture. He didn't have a comprehensive knowledge by any means, but he had a lot more to work with than Thor, who had evidently not been here between the Asgardians leaving and his exile.

Jane had had to bite her tongue to keep from asking how many of the tales were true. One part of her desperately wanted to know. The rest of her ... not so much. She was afraid that if certain tales were confirmed, she'd end up going back to Asgard and slapping Odin silly. Provided of course that someone else didn't beat her to it, which was a high probability. Besides which, if the tales *were* true, asking about them would very probably hurt Loki, at least in the case of the stories regarding his kids.

All that said, while Loki knew more, he hadn't actually *experienced* much of modern-day Earth. Evidently the last time he'd visited, the industrial revolution had just been starting. That meant his personal knowledge and information was nearly three centuries out of date. He hadn't exactly had time or ability, during the invasion, to do more than be told about the current level of technology and its ability to cause him problems.

Jane, with help from Darcy, had explained film-making in general to both Loki and Thor. Thankfully, Asgard had a very long, strong tradition of verbal story-telling and theater, so the concept of film-making wasn't hard for them to understand. After all, on its simplest level film making amounted to 'make-up, costumes, drawings and props'. Of course, film making was actually a whole lot more complicated than that, but that simple level was enough to convey the general concept. They could always explain the specifics at a later time.

What had surprised Jane ... and she was kind of ashamed it had ... was that Thor had been every bit as quick as Loki to catch on. But that was the thing about Thor. He was big, muscular, liked to fight and threw a hammer around. Combined with his lesser knowledge of Earth, it made him come across as a very dim bulb indeed a lot of the time, and made it very easy to underestimate him. Put side by side with Loki, who seemed to be Asgard's answer to Tony or Bruce, it was even worse.

The worst part of it was, Jane *knew* Thor wasn't a dim bulb. He'd spent half the night that one night on his first trip to Earth explaining Yggdrassil and other things, and Jane knew damn well from that that Thor was probably the equivalent of a genius IQ, with knowledge that far outstripped any Earth scientist's.

The dichotomy intrigued her when she wasn't scolding herself for assuming he was stupid. She was honest enough to admit she'd fallen for his looks first. Who wouldn't have? But while she was willing to drool over muscled jock types, they had never really been her preferred romantic partner. Mostly because they couldn't even begin to keep up with her mentally, and weren't interested in trying. Or at least the ones she'd dated previously hadn't been. Which sort of made Thor the best of both worlds. A body to die for, and a brain to match.

Oh, and let's not forget the sweet, gentle, and very chivalrous personality. Where the hell he got it from, Jane wasn't sure. He damn well didn't get it from Odin. She was assuming that it was either Frigga's genetics or her training shining through, one of the two. Either of which was a hell of a testament to Frigga, given the utter assholery that was Odin.

Jane had been very amused by Thor, the last week and a half or so. He was a worse mother hen than Darcy had ever dreamed of being ... and infinitely more effective to boot. He made very, very sure that Jane ate and slept enough, and didn't just 'do science' all day. He managed it better than Darcy mostly because of his very expressive face. It was pretty much impossible to tell him 'no' when he turned on the 'sad puppy eyes'. Jane was honest enough to admit that Darcy usually had to resort to brow-beating and arguments to get her to eat and sleep, especially when Jane was really wrapped up in something. Thor just gave her this ... look ... and she folded like a house of cards. It felt like saying 'no' or putting him off was the equivalent of kicking a puppy when he pulled that look.

Put simply, Jane was falling head over heels in love with Thor. The only sour spot was the whole 'He's not human' thing, and only from the perspective of his living so much longer than she would. It made her feel more than a little sad and guilty, when she thought about it. Sometimes, she wondered if it wouldn't be better to just ... well, separate the pair of them. Then she would realize that wouldn't do a damn bit of good. Thor, for reasons that escaped her a lot of the time, was as enamored of her as she was of him. If the lifespan thing was going to be a problem, he'dve not pursued her ... right?

At least, she hoped.

Jane shook off those musings as the movie started up, wanting to watch Thor, Loki, and Steve as they watched the movie for the first time. It was every bit as amusing as she'd thought it would be.

It quickly became clear that the Earth perception of what a dwarf looked like wasn't too far off the mark. Tony briefly paused the movie after the elves and dwarves had been seen in the prologue, just to find out if there were any similarities.

"They do bear a great resemblance to those in this tale." Thor confirmed. "The tallest dwarf I ever encountered was nigh a foot shorter than Friend Stark." Tony being one of the shorter members of the group aside from the teenagers. "They are all dark of hair and eye, and sturdy of body. They are also hailed throughout the Realms as master miners and smiths, much as the dwarves of this tale."

"The elves bear a strong resemblance to their counterparts of the Realms as well." Loki confirmed. "Though there is more variation in hair and eye color than seems to be shown in this tale. The one true difference lies in their methods of battle. The elves of the Realms have the strongest magics of any of the races of the Realms. They do battle with their magic almost exclusively, save for using knives and daggers in close combat when it becomes necessary. They disdain other weaponry as crude, uncouth, and in some circles, cowardly and an admission of weakness. Given that the only reason an elf would require further weaponry would be due to their lacking magical strength or the knowledge to use it properly, such a perception is not unexpected."

Loki's mouth quirked. "Mother's and my fighting styles borrow heavily from theirs. She told me once that she had an elf as a tutor when she was a child, after her magical strength was recognized. They taught her more than just how to use her magic."

Unspoken was the correlation that Asgardians would find a fighting style that depended heavily on magic and the odd throwing knife or dagger as cowardly as an elf would find using a big-ass hammer, spear or sword. Frigga had gotten away with it thanks to two main factors. She was Queen, which gave her a lot of leeway no matter what the subject was, and she was female. Asgardian women messing with magic was apparently tolerated a lot better than a man doing likewise. The reasons behind it completely escaped Jane's understanding.

Not for the first time did Jane feel some sympathy for Loki. Growing up in Asgard had to have been hell for him.

"You said these are based on books?" Steve asked.

"Yes, they are." Jane said, beating Tony to the punch by about half a second. "And the movies miss out a LOT of stuff. They kind of had to, or the movies would have been about twelve hours long EACH, rather than twelve hours all together. And they do change things here and there."

"I'd really like to read them." Steve said.

Tony grinned across at him. "I can get them for you, no problem. I'm assuming you want the actual books, and not just the on-computer version?"

"Yeah. Reading stuff on the Starkpad is great for when I don't want to lug a whole book around, but nothing really beats having the actual books." Steve said.

Tony gave Steve a look that, to Jane's eyes, was amused and tolerant, then hit play again.

All three men were very quickly enthralled by the story. Jane was very quickly hard put to keep from snickering. Thor and Steve both were soon literally on the edge of their seats. Thor *really* got into it, calling advice and warnings out to the characters. Steve, who'd had experience with movies before he'd been frozen, was a little more restrained, but only in pure volume. Thor was very loud when he forgot himself, probably thanks to the huge open spaces of Asgard. Yelling was about the only way to be heard across the enormous rooms typical of the palace or over the crowds of rowdy, energetic and noisy Asgardians that were in those enormous rooms. Thor remembered, most of the time, to keep his voice down in the smaller, quieter rooms he spent time in on Earth, but he occasionally forgot and blasted everyone's eardrums.

Loki was, by far, the most restrained of the three, but Jane didn't mistake that for disinterest. Loki didn't look away from the screen for even a second, clearly paying close attention to what was going on. They all got a bit of a surprise when the first half of the movie was done and everyone used the break to stretch and restock their refreshments.

"This tale bears a faint resemblance to an actual event of the Realms." Loki admitted. "Replace this Sauron with Thanos ... " He shuddered and went quiet, looking a bit distressed.

Thor reached over and gripped his shoulder. "Peace, brother. That fell creature will never harm you again." He growled. The dead-serious look on his face made it really clear to anyone with sense that Thor would quite happily ram Mjolnir down Thanos' throat personally if that's what it took to bring Thanos down.

Loki pulled himself back together fairly quickly, but did not acknowledge either Thor's words or Thor's grip on his shoulder. But at the same time, Jane knew, even after only a week and a half of being around Loki, the fact that Loki let Thor's hand remain was in fact his way of acknowledging and accepting the support. And quite possibly his way of admitting he needed the support, too.

"As I was saying, replace Sauron with Thanos, and the being of six of the nine Realms with just the dwarves and elves, and this could almost be the tale of the first clash with the Mad Titan, so many millennia ago." Loki finished.

"Interesting." Jane said. "It makes you wonder just how often folks from the other Realms have stopped by Earth over the millennia, and what stories they told while they were here." Which was about as close as she was comfortable getting to the whole 'Loki, do you have kids' question. "Though, question. Why only six of the nine?"

"Two of the Realms were empty by then, their peoples having already risen to their golden age and then faded into nonexistence." Loki said. "And Midgard was still a volcanic rock devoid of any complex life forms whatever at the time. It is part of why Thanos is so interested in Midgard now. The other two Realms are useless to him. All that remains of them is resource-less rocks so cold and dark they make Jotunheim look like a tropical paradise in comparison. This makes them useless as bases to launch any sort of assault from."

"Where Earth has resources in plenty both on the planet itself and on the rest of the planets in the system, and billions of people to force into harvesting those resources, to keep the Chitauri free to wage war." Steve said, understanding where Loki was going with what he was saying. "But why not just go after the other Realms directly?"

"Because he was banished." Loki explained. "It is a magic that, enacted by the rightful ruler of the Realm involved, prevents the being so banished from ever setting foot in the Realm ever again. It is also supposed to strip the being so banished of any powers they possess. How Thanos regained his, I do not know." Loki admitted.

They watched the rest of the movie with slightly different eyes. Or at least Jane did. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps some elements of the story of the battle with Thanos and his banishment, passed down through the ages, had reached Tolkien, and he'd woven them together and filled in the big gaps between, making his own story in the process.

They got another surprise when the first movie was over. Thor glanced over at Loki. "The tale of how orcs came to be ... "

Loki was already nodding. "Yes, I know, brother."

"What're you two on about?" Tony demanded.

"Several millennia ago, there was a ... faction of elves." Loki said. "That broke off from the main population. Their leader was said to have delved into the same sorts of magics that according to legend drove Thanos insane. He and his people waged war against several of the realms, but there were not enough of them to truly accomplish much. They were wiped out about a hundred years after they began attempting to conquer the realms. But again, there is a similarity, if only faint ... "

"With how Sauruman said the orcs came about." Jane said. Minus the torture, anyway. Well, probably. She hoped.

"And elves, dwarves, the Aesir and Vanir can all inter-breed. As, I suspect, can humans." Loki said. He didn't know or care if such was the case with Jotuns. "Which would could possibly be at least the source idea for the ... " Loki hesitated, digging the unfamiliar term out of his memory. "Uruk-hai?"

"Either that or Tolkien thought it up all on his own." Tony pointed out. "I'll give you guys that he got elves and dwarves from tales passed on by visiting Asgardians or hell, from visiting dwarves and elves, but the rest?" He shook his head. "You guys aren't *that* special." The quirk of his mouth made it clear he wasn't trying to be mean.

Loki turned his nose up, but there was an impish twinkle in his eyes that forewarned everyone that he was up to no good. It was actually good to see, as far as Jane was concerned. Loki had been far too quiet over the last week and a half. While Thor made it clear that Loki wasn't the boisterous type, he'd also made it clear that Loki told tall tales and pulled pranks as a matter of course, both of which had not been in evidence since Loki had been freed from Thanos' control.

"I think you will find, Tony, that we are, indeed, that special. Without us, You poor Midgardians would still be playing about in the muck." Loki's tone, like Tony's, made it clear he didn't actually mean what he was saying.

It didn't take long for things to devolve into a snark-fest between Loki and Tony, both of them clearly relishing having someone to snark at who could snark right back at the same level. After a few minutes, Thor bent his head down and murmured in Jane's ear.

"It is good to see Loki thus. He did not often have an opponent who could match his skill with words on Asgard. One of the few who could was mother, and she did not find sport in debate the way Loki does, so seldom indulged him."

Jane couldn't help but laugh a little. "Debate, huh? Is that what you're calling this? I call it an all-out snarkfest."

Chapter Text

Tyr and Thor

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Tyr of Asgard had seen much in his nearly five millennia of life. He had, as little more than a stripling lad, fought side-by-side with a then-Prince Odin Borson in the last great battle before Thanos the Mad Titan had been forever exiled from the shores of six of the nine realms. At one point in that battle, they'd ended up back-to-back fighting for their lives. From that time forward, Odin had trusted him as he had trusted few others. Enough so that when Bor had died and Odin assumed the throne, he had named Tyr his general.

But Tyr, thanks to that long association, was more aware of Odin's faults than most. He was also pragmatic enough to admit they existed, and do what he could to mitigate them. Unfortunately, even as Odin's general, that hadn't amounted to much.

He was not blind, nor stupid. He had known that Frigga had not been with child before the appearance of Loki. He had also known that the orphans of the battles against the Jotuns had all been found homes. Primarily because he'd been the one to ensure the children of the men who had died under his command would be well taken care of.

That had left very few sources for the mystery child. Unfortunately, Tyr had not been the only one to put the pieces together. More than one of the soldiers from that last campaign had figured it out as well. Unlike those soldiers, Tyr had done his utmost to not hold his true parentage against the child. Loki was an innocent and did not deserve to be treated ill for things he'd had no part in nor memory of. Sadly, more than one of those other soldiers had been quite ready to hold Loki's parentage against him. Especially in the face of Odin's apparent permissiveness of ill-treatment aimed Loki's direction.

Tyr honestly had no clue as to the full truth of the events that had occurred before Loki's apparent death. That something had gone wrong somewhere had been pretty clear, but Tyr hadn't known most of the details. He only knew that Thor had been banished, Odin had succumbed to the Odinsleep, Loki had assumed the throne, and then all hell had broken loose. Nor had he been present when the Midgardians arrived with Thor and Loki and Odin passed sentence, though he had heard rumors about what had been revealed. He did not, however, trust rumors as a general rule. As such, he was willing to withhold judgment until he found out what had happened from Thor and Loki's own mouths.

Clearly, Odin had been at least partially at fault for the mess, and had done something - or been about to do something - that would make matters worse. It was the only explanation for both why Frigga had slapped Odin down, and her comment about crimes against Asgard and the Princes.

He'd had a busy time of it since Frigga had given him his orders. He'd headed straight for the Vault first, intent on dealing with the weapons there. He and Frigga were of one mind on this particular. While a few of the weapons there were usable, mostly they merely presented a threat to the Realms and needed to be destroyed. Unfortunately, this was not so easy a thing to accomplish. A few of the weapons would survive even being tossed into the heart of a star thanks to enchantments placed upon them. Of course, doing such a thing would make them far harder to access than if they were sitting in a building. The number of beings in the Realms capable of withstanding such an environment, or extracting an object from such an environment from far enough away to remain unaffected, were vanishingly small. Unfortunately, Thanos was one of those that could pull it off.

In the end, Tyr had opted to send the weapons he could not destroy into the heart of a star anyway. It was the best solution they had. With the number of stars available to them, the odds of anyone finding the right star were very small. It was going to have to be enough. As further insurance, Tyr did not put all of the weapons in a single star, lest any one being find the cache and manage to rescue the lot in one fell swoop.

That accomplished, he had visited the armory to make sure the smiths there had all they required to repair and forge armor and weapons. They'd been in need of more leather for padding, so he'd sent a large hunting party out to obtain skins. The feast that would result from such a hunt would do much to restore spirits that had flagged in the face of the queen's dire news.

With things in Asgard as settled as they could be, Tyr decided to journey to Midgard. After some small thought, he decided not to arrive in full armor lest he alarm the warriors that Thor and Loki had taken up residence with. He opted for a scale mail shirt and leather vest very similar in most regards to Thor's, though his lacked the metal circles, and the cape. Nor did he bring his sword, settling for just a dagger since he was loath to be completely unarmed.

Suitably attired, he returned to the Bifrost control room and bid Heimdall set him down on the roof of the building in which Thor and Loki now dwelled.

(_)(_)(_)

Thor had arisen at his usual early hour. As had become his wont over the last few days, he joined Captain Rogers, also an early riser, for a friendly bout of wrestling before their compatriots all woke to break their fast. He'd encountered the Captain one morning in the training facility by chance, and the Captain had convinced Thor to engage in a bout. It had succeeded so well they'd agreed to continue.

Thor had found the Captain to be an exemplary warrior, capable of dealing with and nearly equaling Thor's strength and fighting abilities aside from the use of Mjolnir. For all his youth relative to Thor's, the Captain also had far more temperance and wisdom than Thor knew himself to possess. There were few in any Realm that Thor would follow without qualm, but the Captain was swiftly becoming one such. Enough so that Thor had a tendency to refer to Steve by his rank as a mark of respect.

It was probably somewhat petty of Thor, but he was relieved that he was not the only one to be rather obviously lost and confused when it came to Midgard in general and its culture in particular. Oh, Loki was very nearly as much at sea as Thor was, but he was far better at hiding it, and far faster to adapt than Thor would ever be. The Captain was far more apt to allow himself to look or sound confused, and adapted more slowly than Loki did.

The last stragglers - namely Tony and Bruce - had just sat down to table when Tony's mechanical marvel spoke.

"Sir, I am detecting energy readings consistent with the activation of the Bifrost emanating from the sky directly above the building."

Beside him, Loki froze for a second before resuming his normal mien. Thor shifted to the side enough to bump shoulders with him and give him a quick supportive look.

"Any way of knowing if they're friendly?" Tony wanted to know.

Thor answered him. "They must be friendly. Only Heimdall controls the Bifrost. None may use it without his leave, and I sincerely doubt he's been killed in the mere days since our visit."

"Not exactly what I meant, Fabio." Tony said, then indicated Loki. "I'm more worried about Odin going back on his word."

"He would not. It may well be mother. She did indicate a desire to visit Midgard." Thor pointed out.

"Right. I guess there's only one way to find out. Let's go." Tony said.

Thor was rather amused when everyone made their way to the roof, each as curious as the rest as to whom their visitor might be. He was less amused when he realized that Loki was coming remarkably close to attempting to hide behind Thor, using him as a shield. Clearly his brother was far more worried about Asgardian visitors than Thor had initially suspected he would be. It was remarkably disconcerting to have Loki acting so. While he had ever been in favor of subtlety and striking from the shadows, this was something else entirely.

When the dazzling brilliance of the Bifrost receded enough to permit him to observe who had traveled to Midgard, Thor was both mightily pleased and deeply concerned to see it was Tyr standing there. Another moment's observation cleared away the concern. Tyr was not garbed for battle, nor was he carrying weapons or chains that might indicate that Odin had indeed rescinded his decree regarding Loki. This then was either a trip regarding Thanos' impending arrival, or Tyr visiting Midgard to quench his curiosity. Much relieved, Thor greeted Tyr with his usual friendly abandon. As further indication that Tyr was not here on dire business, Tyr was as quick to greet Thor, the two men meeting in a fierce hug followed by gripping each others' forearms.

"Well met, my princes." Tyr said to Thor with a grin. He glanced around Thor's bulk and nodded respectfully to the far less physically demonstrative Loki before he broke from Thor's grasp and offered a forearm clasp to Loki, who accepted it with a faint air of surprise. "Both of you. I bring news from Asgard, and from her majesty the Queen."

Thor was pleased that Tyr greeted Loki so. He knew that many of the people of Asgard would put all blame on Loki and treat him ill. Tyr had never been one such, but it had been possible that circumstances would change Tyr's usual approach to Loki.

Tyr then turned his attention to the gathered Avengers. "And these must be Midgard's defenders. Rumors have been running wild in Asgard since your arrival. I was sorry to have missed it."

Thor laughed. He could just bet that the rumor mill had been working overtime in relation to the Avengers' visit. Mortals on Asgard was rare enough. That two of them had dared to defy Odin, and one had felled a guard would have had tongues wagging overtime. He clasped Tyr's shoulder, and began to make the introductions.

"My friends, this is Tyr, general of Asgard's army. Tyr, this is ... " And then he named everyone.

Once the introductions were complete, Tony stepped forward. "You said you had news?" He asked. "Is that just for Thor and Loki, or all of us? 'cause if you need privacy, we can scoot, but if it's for everyone, we'll be more comfortable inside."

"The news I bear is for all." Tyr said.

Tony led the way inside. Thor smiled to see Tyr gazing about, curious as to their lodgings. Tyr was visibly disconcerted by the elevator, a thing which did not exist on Asgard, primarily because they did not build edifices as tall as Midgardians did. While there were several floors to the palace, for instance, there were nowhere near the hundred-plus floors in this particular building, so finding a means to get from the bottom-most floor to the top-most without exhausting oneself had never been a concern.

Once they were settled on the couches on the floor used for entertainments, Tyr began his tale.

"I will begin by saying that all is currently well in Asgard, and your mother the Queen in fine health. I say this because much of what I have to impart is at least somewhat alarming." Tyr told them.

"I do not know the full tale myself - the Queen did not see fit to enlighten me. But three days past, the Queen was seen riding at speed for Heimdall's control room. She returned at a far more temperate speed, and then bade that all within a feasible distance of the palace, as well as all residents of the palace, gather in the throne room two hours later."

"When that cumpulsory audience took place, the Queen arrived in battle dress which I know for fact she had not possessed previously. She held Gungnir in her grasp and Odin was nowhere to be seen." Tyr told them.

Thor exchanged an alarmed glance with Loki. The two of them realized the significance of someone other than Odin bearing Gungnir. Thor's first thought was that Odin had finally resumed the interrupted Odinsleep he'd begun a year previously, but that didn't explain his mother wearing armor. Tyr was right - Frigga never had before, at least not in Thor's memory.

"She then proclaimed that, for 'crimes against Asgard and her heirs' Odin had been summarily exiled, and that she was assuming the throne."

Thor's eyes about popped out of his head at this proclamation. He had long known that Frigga was greatly displeased with the treatment Loki endured, and blamed Odin for it. She had also seen him carry out various political and battle plans, both for good and ill. But she had endured it all this long without seizing control. What in the name of the Norns could Odin have done to drive Frigga to take control? He took some small comfort from the fact that Loki seemed as confused as he was.

"She then revealed that that fell monster was on the move once more." Tyr said, his face twisting in distaste.

"Wait. You mean that Odin had not ... " Loki started.

"If Odin possessed that knowledge at any point before the Queen's audience, he did nothing." Tyr confirmed.

Well, that explained the 'crimes against Asgard' part of his mother's comment, Thor reflected. That Odin had not taken action against Thanos' renewed rise was more than reason enough to depose him.

"She then bade the court ambassadors to disperse to the Realms and warn their Kings about Thanos, and took herself, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif off to Svartalfheim and Jotunheim. She bade me to ready our troops and to empty the Vault and destroy those weapons which could not be safely used, and see to the dispersal amongst our troops of those that could. She also bade me to coordinate with the two of you, as you were assisting Midgard and her warriors with their preparations, as this is the first time they have encountered the Mad Titan, and would thus be the best source of knowledge as to Midgard's defenses."

Tyr sighed and then continued. "I have done as the queen commanded thus far, with the exception of one weapon. She expressed especial interest in the Casket of Ancient Winters, and bade that it not be destroyed or given over to anyone who might be able to control it. She expressed the possibility of returning it to Jotunheim if she could establish enough fellowship with their new King. Unfortunately, the Casket was not to be found in the Vault. I had wondered if either of you had seen it, or if one of the invaders that broke in on Thor's aborted coronation day might have managed to make off with it after all."

For one of the few times in his life, Thor decided to tell a blatant lie. He knew from Odin, who'd seen Heimdall get frozen in his sleep, that Loki had taken the Casket during his madness after the revelation of his parentage. It was far better than Thor be blamed for it, and given the situation at the time, it was even believable that he had done something. He had not been best pleased with the situation immediately after his aborted coronation. He was rather known for making rash decisions when his blood was up like that, so Tyr was unlikely to question it.

"I removed it, after the invasion." He claimed. "And bid Loki hide it against another incursion, since the Jotuns could obviously get into the Vault. I feared the appearance of a larger force that the Destroyer could not defeat before one did make off with either the Casket or another of the weapons there."

Tyr considered that for a moment before nodding. "Rash, perhaps, but perhaps also wise, given they did indeed manage to get in there." He said, then turned his attention to Loki. "If you would either tell me where it is hidden, or be willing to fetch it, my prince, I would be grateful."

Loki nodded. "You will have it in your hands ere you return to Asgard." He told Tyr.

Chapter Text

John, Steve, and Cecelia

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

For John, the last week had been pretty unreal. It wasn't the new clothes or the sweet-as-hell new digs he got to live in that made it that way either. No, the air of unreality was down entirely to the adults around him and how they were dealing with him and Rogue.

Tony had only been the start of it, with his blasé reaction to and easy acceptance of their powers. Captain Fucking America had been right there with Tony - and that would forever shock the hell out of John because the dude was from the fuckin' thirties and forties. Steve should be freaking right the hell out about mutants in general, never mind having two such dangerous ones all up in his face. Instead, Steve had just been completely unconcerned. It blew John's mind.

The fact Steve had been so quick to ok John at least fighting with the adults had initially thrown John too. After John'd thought about it for a little bit though, it made sense that Steve'd be ok with it. A lot of guys John's age had been signing up for the war back in the late thirties and early forties, and on top of that, it'd been the Depression and all of that. That had meant that folks had been scrabbling for whatever work they could find in order to be able to afford to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. People had had to grow up fast, including Steve, so Steve probably had the mindset that someone mid-to-late teens was capable of being an adult and making adult decisions if they wanted to be.

John figured that if Rogue had wanted to fight too, Steve'd be as ok with her as with John. While John took a lot of the stories told by folks who'd never met Steve with a pound of salt, a few of the stories had been confirmed by Steve himself in the last week and a half. Including the bit about Peggy Carter fighting alongside Steve in at least one battle. If Steve was ok with that, and ok with Natasha (who scared the holy hell out of John), Rogue wouldn't be a problem if she had wanted to fight. Rogue rather understandably wanted no part of that shit, though. At least not on the 'use my mutation against the enemy' level anyway. She was still learning to defend herself without using her mutation, even if she only trusted Logan to teach her because of her skin.

The rest of the Avengers had been just as accepting of the mutants in their midst. Enough so that John was beginning to wonder if maybe the entire planet wasn't actually solely comprised of people who were bigoted assholes after all. That everyone seemed as inclined as Steve to treat him and Rogue as adults was gravy. Delicious, delicious gravy that had made Bobby (who's called them every night) shit jealous. John was pretty sure the only reason Bobby hadn't come to join them was because his parents were still under the delusion that their son was attending a school for the gifted and *not* a mutant.

Case in point, the two of them had automatically been included in the meet-and-greet slash coordinating-our-forces meeting with Tyr. Who seemed to be as cool with their presence as Thor and Loki, though that could be because Tyr didn't know they were kids yet. John wasn't quite sure if Thor and Loki understood that, and they'd been on Earth for nearly two weeks now. It hardly mattered to John that he didn't have anything to contribute to the planning aside from sharing what he was and wasn't capable of with his mutation and what he knew of 'normal' fighting. Being included was more than enough.

(_)(_)(_)

"Our biggest problem, and our biggest advantage." Steve said somewhere in the middle of the planning. "Is going to be the high-population-density areas. Lots of innocent civilians who are going to be in the line of fire, but also more defenders in those areas. And we're going to have to account for folks with little to no training, but access to guns or other weapons jumping into the fight, which is going to mean dealing with and hopefully somehow reducing accidental friendly fire. I know I saw more than one regular civilian fighting back during the attempted invasion here, and I sincerely doubt that reaction will be unique to this city."

"And the biggest problem in that area is going to be China and India." Tony chimed in. "There's over two billion people in that area alone, just over a billion in each country."

Steve gave Tony a wide-eyed stare. "Two billion?" He echoed, his voice nearly a squeak. "That's the world population when I went down!" Steve had known the population had grown, of course, but that was just ridiculous.

"We're over seven billion now." Tony told him.

Steve nearly whimpered. Over triple the population in just seventy years? Yikes. "Ok, so we're going to have to put a lot of defenders in China and India, with that many people there. Depending on what sort of firepower Thanos will be bringing to bear, one or two strikes and he'd wipe out a just under a third of our population."

"Charles has already put out feelers for folks to start gathering local defenders." Steve said. "Which will help immensely. Locals will know the lay of the land better than we will." Steve looked at Tony. "Has anyone thought to warn the various governments, and their militaries?"

"Not that I know." Tony admitted. "Not my arena, not Charles' either, though he does have a few government contacts. But from the patterns Jarvis has been tracking, a warning might not be needed. There's been an upswing in military-related activities pretty much planet-wide. Some of it may be various idiots thinking to take advantage of the chaos going on right now, but not all of it."

Steve nodded. There would always be opportunists he knew, even if he really disliked that reality. "We need to figure out a way to get the word out to everyone and be believed, just to make sure." He said.

Tony wrinkled his nose and sighed. "I'll yell at Fury later." He promised.

Steve tried to level a stern look at Tony, but he was pretty sure more than a little of the amusement he was feeling was showing through. "At least try to play nice." He said.

"I will if he does." Tony snarked. "Which means we're pretty much doomed, because he won't."

"Forgive me, sir, but it is nearly two pm." Jarvis said, speaking up for the first time.

Tony looked slightly startled before he responded. "Thanks for the reminder, J."

Steve glanced at him. "What's that about?"

"Charles has connections." Tony said with a grin. "He knew of a doctor that was used to working with mutants, which means atypical pretty-much-everything. Someone like that is our best shot at a doctor who can handle the weird shit that comes with super soldiers and aliens and defending the world. She's coming in for an interview at two thirty. If I like her, I'll let you guys take a poke at her. If she manages to deal with all of us and still wants to work with us, we'll have a qualified on-site doctor. Given that we're *going* to get banged up ... "

"Having a doctor on hand that we can trust would be a very good thing." Steve finished with a nod. "Right. We'll wrap up here until you're done so you don't miss anything potentially important, and then if she passes muster with you, we can all talk to her and see from there."

(_)(_)(_)

Cecilia Reyes' life hadn't been the easiest. Watching her father be gunned down, and the subsequent difficulties her family had faced in surviving in the aftermath, had left their mark. But she had risen to the challenge, and dedicated her life to helping those that needed it the most.

In service to that desire, Cecilia had become a doctor. More specifically, a trauma surgeon. She had chosen this route because it provided the widest base of information, and was of the most use to the largest number of people. Most doctors and surgeons specialized. They could only diagnose and treat certain aspects of the human condition, and thus served a smaller segment of the population. Trauma surgeons had to be able to spot and treat a wide range of problems - and do so swiftly and efficiently to save lives.

She'd fallen into treating mutants mostly by accident. She'd been in Louisiana right after a particularly destructive hurricane had gone through when she'd spotted some injured folks who were doing their best to avoid the numerous personnel assessing and treating injuries. It had taken a lot of talking and a very careful approach to get those folks to let her treat them - at which point she had realized why they'd been so paranoid.

For Cecelia, it had highlighted a unique and growing problem. Those with unique physiologies - whether they were mutants or not - really had no one to turn to when something went wrong. So Cecelia had started working in that community, learning as she went.

About a year later, she'd discovered that she herself was a mutant when part of a wall tried to fall on her and she shielded herself. She'd gone looking for someone who could help her learn how to control her mutation, and found Charles. That had been three years ago.

Cecelia had actually been in the city when all hell broke loose. She just hadn't been at the epicenter - thank goodness. She ran a clinic in a part of town with a very high concentration of mutants, well north of Stark Tower and far from the six or so blocks that had been the center of the attack. She had promptly put her partner in control of the clinic for a couple days and headed into the affected area to help treat the injured, whether they were normal humans or otherwise. She'd returned once the overwhelming crush of incoming injured had eased, only to get a call from Charles.

The idea of becoming the Avengers' on-site physician had a lot of appeal. Cecelia knew that that group, like the X-Men, were going to be at the forefront of a *lot* of battles before all was said and done. They were going to need someone who could treat their injuries and help them stay in top condition when they weren't injured. The only question was whether or not they'd be willing to trust her with that responsibility.

Cecelia arrived for her interview with Mr. Stark ten minutes early. She was dressed in a nice but practical T-shirt, jeans and hiking boots. She'd debated what to wear for quite a while. While a nice suit or overtly 'doctor-ish' apparel had their appeal, Cecelia had a feeling that it was the wrong approach. Mr. Stark was well-known for his intolerance of stuffy, boring people ... or stuffy, boring anything for that matter. Cecelia had a feeling that most of the other Avengers would be likewise, so she wanted to come off as human and approachable.

The woman at the help desk greeted her warmly and pointed her to a specific elevator, informing her where she'd be going and that an escort would be awaiting her, to lead her to the interview room. Cecelia figured the escort was part of the security measures in the Tower, to make sure relative strangers didn't go where they had no business being.

She was therefore not quite ready for her escort to be Mr. Stark himself. Though after a moment's reflection, she decided that she really ought to have expected that.

"Mr. Stark." She greeted the man.

"Doc Reyes." Mr. Stark greeted her. "Call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father."

"Then call me Cecelia." Cecelia said. She considered offering a hand to shake, but she had heard from more than one source that Mr ... that Tony did not like that sort of thing, so she didn't. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." Tony said, then gave her a distinctly lascivious up-and-down.

Since Tony's flirting was as legendary as most of the rest of his personality, she had expected something of the sort. She wasn't a supermodel, but she was good looking, and Tony had a reputation for hitting on damn near anything human, never mind good looking. She gave it the attention it deserved, which is to say none at all.

"C'mon, interview room is this way." Tony said, his mouth quirking a bit.

Cecelia followed him to a small conference room. Tony flung himself into a chair on one side of the table. After a moment's thought, Cecelia opted for the chair next to him, rather than across from him.

"So." Tony said. "This is less about if you can, and more about if you will. I've read your file - you've got the chops to deal with the weird shit physical problems we will doubtlessly be throwing at you, or I wouldn't even have let you in the building, Charles' recommendation be damned."

He tapped the tabletop, and Cecelia blinked in surprise when the tabletop essentially became a computer monitor, displaying photographs of a number of people.

"We've got a bunch of oddballs." Tony said. "There's me, there's two folks from another world/dimension/whatever - we're still figuring out which it is - whose culture and medical knowledge is a lot different from modern-day America. We've also got a guy from the forties, two ex-assassins, and basically every last one of us has weird-ass quirks at the very least. And most of us are probably going to fight you on getting treated for one reason or another."

Cecelia smiled. "Tony, if I hadn't been sure I could handle recalcitrant, quirky patients, I wouldn't have bothered trying for an interview at all." She pointed out. "I can handle quirky and recalcitrant, no problem. I can even handle you guys not telling me everything right off, so long as I am informed of things like allergies, problematic drug interactions, and things of that stripe."

In other words, she wasn't going to demand - for instance - all the details as to how the arc reactor in Tony's chest worked. That didn't matter. What *did* matter was whether or not Tony was prone to chest pain, lung infections, breathing problems or the like due to the casing's location. The same sort of thing went for everyone else. Whether or not they entrusted her with the nitty-gritty details of their physiological conditions would be up to them - she just needed to know the important bits in order to treat them effectively.

Tony regarded her for a moment, then grinned. "You just might do, Cecelia. You just might do. We'll see if you can survive the gauntlet first, though. J, tell Steve to come down here."

After that, one by one, Cecelia met the various Avengers. She couldn't help but start to make purely mental notes about each of them as she met them. They were all so interesting!

Steve would be a challenge to treat. The serum had evidently gifted him with an extremely fast metabolism and something remarkably similar to a healing factor. Dosing him with medication, whether to dull pain or for a surgical procedure was going to be tricky. Especially since Steve had a very cavalier attitude about pain and injury. She wasn't going to be able to trust him to tell her when he was hurting.

Thor and Loki would require extensive, very careful experimentation as to whether or not they could tolerate human drugs at all, never mind how they would be affected by them. She foresaw a lot of blood draws in their future to figure that out, though there was hope that they would just be like Steve, since both of them could consume human foods without problems. She was also going to need to talk to their version of a doctor to ascertain whether or not their internal structures were similar enough to a human's that she'd be able to do anything for them. Fortunately, someone from Asgard had arrived earlier in the day for a visit, and was more than willing to pass on the request.

The bad news was that she'd essentially be working blind with Loki, as he was not actually Asgardian, and apparently what the Asgardians knew about the physiology of Jotuns didn't amount to much. Weirdly, and Cecelia would give her right arm to figure out how that worked, apparently if Loki looked Asgardian, his body acted and reacted like an Asgardian body would, so that would help, but if he ever reverted to his Jotun body for some reason, they'd have more than a few problems on their hands.

John, Rogue, Logan and Remy would be the easiest to deal with. Since all four of them had been at Charles' for at least six months, there would be records there for her to work with regarding treatment. Rogue's skin would be a challenge, but hardly the biggest one that Cecelia would face. Logan's admitted tendency to come awake claws first (especially if he'd gotten knocked out while fighting) would be a bigger problem than Rogue's skin ever could be.

Natasha and Clint would require much the same caution and care that Logan would. Both of them had massive paranoid streaks, lightning fast reflexes, massive trust issues and no small amount of close-combat skills. One unfortunate misstep with either of them and she'd be in a world of pain - and they wouldn't even mean to do it. Nor would she hold such a reaction against them. She had also gotten the sense that there was more going on with Natasha than Natasha had been willing to admit in their brief interview.

Cecelia made due mental note of the fact that both Bruce and Betty made it clear that Betty was pretty much the only one guaranteed to be able to approach Bruce without coming to harm in an emergency situation. Hulk was unlikely to get hurt, and apparently any injury Bruce suffered prior to transforming was healed by the transformation, but there was always the possibility of an injury happening. Just because no currently known weapon could hurt Hulk didn't mean he couldn't get hurt in the future, and Bruce could get (very slightly) hurt without transforming. Bruce also made sure to inform Cecelia that his blood was radioactive.

While none of them were actual Avengers, Cecelia was also introduced to Pepper, Darcy, Jane and Betty. The odds on those four ladies getting tangled in some event, and thus hurt, were pretty high since three of them were involved with Avengers and the fourth, while not involved with an Avenger, was a part of the group and thus a potential target or potential collateral damage if she was around the Avengers and they were attacked.

Once she'd met and talked with everyone, the group talked amongst themselves for a bit. Tony came over a minute or two later and grinned at her.

"Congrats, Cecelia. You got the job. C'mon and I'll show you our doctoring facilities, and you can tell me if I missed out any important equipment."

The Avengers' trauma area turned out to be an entire floor. There were two surgical suites, each able to be completely cut off from the rest of the floor if necessary for whatever reason. Both were equipped with state-of-the-art equipment. So was the rest of the floor. There were a dozen individual rooms for long-term care, each supplied with equipment that could turn them into an ICU in seconds, if that was required. There were several self-contained rooms to deal with unknown and possibly communicable contaminants. Each room had a large airlock on the outside wall, allowing an affected Avenger to enter the room without exposing the entire rest of the Tower to whatever they'd been covered in. They also had much smaller airlocks on the inside wall through which to pass clothes, food, medication and other items. The airlock controls - indeed the remote controls for everything on the floor - were located in a central hub, so that if the person in containment went crazy, they couldn't just let themselves out. Well, not without wrecking the room, anyway. Unfortunately, with several of the Avengers, if things got that bad, there wouldn't be a damn thing anyone could do to stop them, as they were more than strong enough - or equipped with weapons sharp enough - to get them out of pretty much any form of containment that could be dreamed up.

There was also a huge pharmacy with three different locks on the door, stocked with pretty much every medicine on the planet, FDA approved or not. Apparently, Tony had opted for an 'if it's legal somewhere, it's fair game' approach to medicine, given the oddball physiologies of the Avengers. It wasn't a bad idea, as there was no telling if FDA approved drugs would be usable. Cecelia would just pretend she didn't know the other stuff was here. She'd had practice with that.

That done, she was shown to the next floor down. There were several apartments on this floor, meant for herself and whatever medical staff got hired later on. She'd have to see about finding one more doctor and a nurse at the very least - she would not be able to be on call 24/7 by herself.

Chapter Text

Frigga and Byleistr

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. This chapter happens the same day as Charles making his calls.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Frigga was well pleased. The trip to Svartalfheim, while brief, had accomplished what it needed to. The dwarves were now warned, and had pledged their assistance in defending Midgard.

Now, however, the truly monumental task would begin. Frigga turned her mind towards their next destination as Sleipnir climbed towards Svartalfheim's Bifrost landing site.

Dealing with the Jotuns was not going to be easy. There had been a time when Asgard and Jotunheim had had good relations, but that era had been on the wane even before the Jotuns went to war. By the time they'd invaded Midgard, both sides were more of a mind to kill each other on sight than talk.

There had, after all, been a reason that Frigga hadn't beaten Odin to a pulp when he'd stolen a Jotun child, regardless of who their parents were. She had hoped that they might reforge a more peaceful relationship with the Jotuns through Loki. Of course, Odin'd had to go and wreck that hope as hard as possible with the way he handled Loki.

Frigga had done what she could, especially since she'd come to love Loki as if she'd borne him herself, but unfortunately, it hadn't been enough. Thankfully, it appeared that the damage done to Loki was not permanent and irreparable. Which was really the only reason Frigga hadn't killed Odin when she'd caught him trying to renounce Thor and Loki.

Frigga had no idea who was on the throne of Jotunheim. With the Casket gone from the realm, it didn't even have to be someone from their Royal line, since anyone clever and capable enough could make a claim of leadership and gather enough followers to usurp the throne. With the destruction that had been wrought in the throes of Loki's madness, even a usurpation might not be necessary, if all those of royal blood were killed in the cataclysm.

Asking Heimdall who had taken the Jotun throne would have been nigh-on useless. Most of Jotunheim's capital city had been destroyed in the cataclysm, and the survivors scattered to the winds. Whoever was leading them, they were not doing it from a central, obvious location, so Heimdall's chances of discerning who was leading and from where were not good.

Once they reached the landing site, Frigga shook off her thoughts and regarded Lady Sif and the Three.

"Gird yourselves against the cold." She told them, and followed her own advice, pulling Jotunheim-proof winter gear from her pack and beginning to don it. What they were currently wearing, while proof against the chill of Svartalfheim's heights, was insufficient to protect them from Jotunheim's cold. "And I will remind you that while we are on Jotunheim, you are to neither speak nor raise arms against the Jotuns save by my order. We are on a mission of peace and I will not have your intemperance causing more difficulties."

She leveled them with a flat look, but forbore to lay out the consequences of disobedience. From their expressions, they were all quite aware that they would not like the results if they defied her. Once they were all clad in heavier cloaks and other winter gear, Frigga spoke again.

"Heimdall. Jotunheim, if you please."

Moments later, they were all but on the doorstep of the old, now mostly ruined capital city of Jotunheim. Glancing behind them, Frigga saw why they had been placed so close to the ruins. The ice shelf that had served as a landing site had been completely destroyed. The cliff edge, once more than two or three miles distant, was now a matter of a few dozen yards from the edge of the ruins.

(_)(_)(_)

In the wake of the death of Laufey and the near-destruction of their Realm via the Bifrost, the succession of leadership had very nearly been an afterthought. The survivors had been entirely too busy healing, finding shelter, and rebuilding their lives.

By whatever miracle, both Byleistr, Helblindi, and their parent Farbauti had survived the mayhem. They had initially fled in three different directions with whatever survivors they could gather, fearing the appearance of an Asgardian army. Some months later, when it became clear that no such army would be arriving, they had taken the chance to meet briefly.

In that meeting, it had been decided that they would remain separate so as to make it that much more difficult for the royal line to be wiped out. Each kept but a small contingent of Jotuns with them, and word went out that at no point were more than fifty Jotuns to gather together in any one place. It was the only thing they could think to do to prevent the genocide of their race, if Odin was of a mind to wipe them out. Many parents had sent their young to the coldest areas of other realms via the secret paths as further insurance against such a fate. Traveling the secret paths was fraught with danger, but better the children be essentially exiled to other Realms, and thus keep their people alive, than for all Jotuns to be wiped out in strike.

The three had decided that all three of them would rule their people. They would remove themselves as far from one another as they could manage, and rule over whatever number of their people were in residence within a certain distance of their new accommodations. Contact between them would be rare, and undertaken only by messengers - never in person. Such a method of ruling would have been impossible if they still had the Casket, as it recognized only one master at a time, but with the situation the way it was, it would work.

Byleistr, as the younger of Laufey and Farbauti‘s children, had taken up residence closest to the remains of the capital city. Even at that, the accommodations were hidden in the mountains several miles away from the ruins. Byleistr had also taken as many of their warriors as were willing to stay near the ruins, since this was the most likely area for an invasion force to land. Together they kept a careful watch over the ruins.

Byleistr had just finished the mid-day meal when one of the guards set to watch the city ruins came racing in.

“My liege! The Bifrost! Five have landed, Sleipnir among them!” The guard reported as they skidded to a halt a few feet away.

Byleistr sat bolt upright. “Sleipnir? You are sure?”

“Very, my liege. It is a distinctive creature.” The guard said with a nod.

This was true, Byleistr knew. “Were you close enough to see who accompanied Odin?”

“No, my liege. I think at least one of them was one of the soldiers that accompanied Thor when they were here last. At least, they had a similar bulk to them.” The guard motioned a rotund shape. “The others, I could not distinguish any distinctive characteristics. They were too far away.”

Byleistr sighed. “If the fat one is with Odin, then the others are likely the rest of the soldiers that accompanied Thor. Apparently, they go everywhere together. You did not see Thor, though?”

The guard shook his head. “No, my liege. Thor is kind of hard to miss.”

“No kidding.” Byleistr said bitterly, and stood up. “I want six warriors to accompany me. And six more to sneak around the Asgardians, to attack them from the sides if needs be. And the rest of you, prepare in case there are more arrivals.” He pointed to a slender, long-legged youth. “You, make haste to Helblindi’s stronghold and tell them that we have Asgardians on our doorstep.”

The youth nodded, turned, and bolted out of the room. It would be at least a two-day journey to Helblindi, but if worst came to worst, at least Helblindi would be warned, and could warn Farbauti in turn.

Byleistr, the additional warriors and the guard made their way back to the ruins. By the time they’d gotten there, the Asgardians had begun to make their way across the ice away from the ruins. It was not until Byleistr was almost upon them that he realized that the person riding Sleipnir was not, in fact, Odin.

Jotuns, unlike most of the being of the Nine Realms, did not have two separate sexes with distinctive physical characteristics. They, in fact almost all animal life on Jotunheim, were by the language of some other realms hermaphrodites, possessing both male and female reproductive systems. They had, further, evolved so that all such things were either fully internal or able to retract into their bodies to protect them from the cold. When among other races they had used sex-specific pronouns for the convenience of their hosts, but their native language had no such words in it. This, and the size of the average Jotun had led to residents of the other Realms assuming that most Jotuns they met were males.

Such interactions had all but ceased a millennium ago when Odin took the Casket. As a result, most young Jotuns had a lot of difficulty telling one person from another realm from another unless there was something truly distinctive about them. Odin, and his appearance, was burned into Jotun memories. Sleipnir was likewise distinctive, and had until now only been seen with Odin mounted upon him. When the guard had seen Sleipnir, they had assumed. They had also been far enough away from the landing site that visually confirming a different rider would have been impossible.

The sight of someone other than Odin astride Sleipnir made Byleistr motion for the warriors and guard to fall back slightly. While such a thing would make it look like Byleistr was approaching alone so as to play nicely - which happened to be at least partly true - it also kept the warriors further out of the range of fire. Because there was no telling what was going to happen if they were facing Odin’s ... what? His successor? A usurper? There was no way to know.

Then the figure astride Sleipnir pulled back the furred hood protecting them from the cold. “Greetings. I am Queen Frigga. I come in peace to treat with whomever has succeeded Laufey on the throne of Jotunheim.”

Frigga? Byleistr thought in surprise. Wasn’t that the name of Odin’s mate? Insofar as Byleistr knew, no Jotun had ever laid eyes on Frigga. That said, Frigga had a reputation for being forthright, fair, and slow to antagonize others. Byleistr didn’t believe for a minute that they really wanted peace, not after what had happened, but at least Frigga was unlikely to rain down more destruction on them.

“I am Byleistr, child of Laufey and Farbauti.” Byleistr said. “I have authority to treat with any who would.” Byleistr glared at Frigga and the other four. “The question becomes whether or not I wish to. Asgard’s crimes against my realm and my people are numerous, and by all rights I should kill you where you stand in recompense for the life of my parent and the dozens who were killed by the Bifrost.”

The four riders behind Frigga shifted uneasily, but did not raise arms. Frigga herself didn’t so much as twitch.

“We are agreed that Jotunheim has a myriad of legitimate grievances against Asgard.” Frigga said. “Though it is my hope that we can reforge at least some sort of peace between us. Odin has been banished from the realm for his crimes against your people.”

An odd expression flitted across Frigga’s face, but Byleistr hardly noticed it. Byleistr was too busy being stunned speechless at Frigga’s admission. Odin banished? What in the name of Surtur’s flame had happened in Asgard? Byleistr didn’t believe the banishment had been solely due to crimes perpetrated against Jotunheim, either. Though Byleistr was willing to believe that those crimes had played a part in the banishment.

After a few moments, Byleistr managed to regain some equilibrium, and spoke.

“Perhaps, Queen Frigga, I will treat with you after all.” Byleistr said. “You will follow us. This area is no longer stable, and even if it was, there is no shelter from the elements to be had here any longer. Our accommodations are not too far from here, however.”

Frigga and the four followed Byleistr tamely enough. There was more than a little nervous twitching from the four when the warriors that had deployed themselves out of sight to the sides of the Asgardian group joined Byleistr’s group, surrounding the Asgardians. Frigga never so much as blinked, and Byleistr felt some small measure of respect for the Asgardian’s ability to retain composure in the face of tense situations.

Byleistr and the other warriors kept well clear of Sleipnir. That creature was well known to act preemptively in the defense of Odin, and Byleistr for one was not going to presume it would not do likewise for Frigga. It took but a surprisingly short amount of time to reach the shelter of the mountain caves that were Byleistr’s stronghold.

“Sleipnir will have to remain here.” Byleistr said when they were within the first cave. “The caves are not set up to accommodate a four-footed creature its size.” They had the head room necessary, to be sure, but not necessarily the room Sleipnir would need to walk around, and turn around.

Byleistr led the way into the cave that served as their meal hall. It was the only cave with a table large enough to accommodate everyone. Byleistr sent several youths running to get platforms and furs for the Asgardians to sit on while they sat in the chairs, since the chairs were built for Jotuns, and would dwarf the Asgardians.

It did not take long for the five to be settled. The four guards - Byleistr had decided to think of them as such, since he was unsure of their true purpose here - were staring around with suspicion and caution. Frigga, on the other hand, seemed completely unconcerned with the idea of being surrounded by Jotun warriors.

“It would seem, Queen Frigga, that there is much to discuss between us.” Byleistr said. “Perhaps you would like to start?”

Chapter Text

Frigga and Byleistr Part 2

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. This chapter happens the same day as Charles making his calls. Hit the deck, folks. Epic shit ahead.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

This, Frigga knew, was going to get ... interesting. Very, very quickly. Because unlike her husband, Frigga intended to be honest and up front with Byleistr, and she was realist enough to know that there was going to be a bit of yelling at the very least in the near future.

"I do not know." Frigga began. "The cause of the start of the rift between the Aesir and the Jotuns. That was before my time. Before your parents' time. We have both heard tales as to the cause, but given those tales were told to us by one side only, I sincerely doubt either of us heard an unprejudiced account of those days. Whatever the cause was, it is far and beyond too late for either of us to do anything about it, and if we are to have any chance at all at peace between us, it seems wisest to put such ancient, half-forgotten issues completely in the past."

She sighed. "That does not, however, wipe the slate clean entirely. Whatever the original cause, things escalated to open war. Odin and Laufey bear the burden of guilt for that - for continuing and escalating a situation begun by their parents. An escalation that culminated in the confrontation on Midgard a millennium ago."

"I fear, at that point, the burden of shame is borne entirely by Odin, and by Asgard after him. Ensuring a defeated aggressor cannot rise up in rebellion is the right of any conqueror. Condemning a defeated aggressor to a slow, painful death by starvation is the act of a cruel despot. Unfortunately, after so many millennia of war, none on Asgard were willing to see Odin as such, and all my remonstrances to act with compassion were ignored. And to attempt to remove Odin from the throne then would have seen me dead. The general populace saw him as their conquering hero and would never have stood for him being forced from the throne. Especially not by his but newly crowned Queen from another Realm."

She had been Odin's bride for less than half a century when Odin forced Laufey into defeat. A complete stranger to her new people, and one they would not heed. Not yet. Not then, and certainly not in preference to Odin. She'd needed time to build herself a reputation amongst the Aesir as someone to turn to, someone they could trust in times of trouble. Someone with a cool head, keen intellect and a reputation for fairly adjudicating any matter brought before her, regardless of any person's ancestry, sex, or vocation. A contrast to Odin's frequently capricious moods, harsh judgments, aloof removal from his people, and distinctly prejudicial views as regarded women, the poor, and anyone not pure Aesir by birth.

It had taken time, but slowly, the people had come to know her. To listen to her when she spoke. To turn to her more and more to settle disputes, wary of Odin's heavy-handedness. Unfortunately by the time she'd had the reputation she'd needed to bring Odin down off his throne without causing a civil war, there was nothing obviously wrong going on that she could use as an excuse to do so. It had taken exiling Thor and Loki's fall to bring them to that pass.

"Unfortunately, removing the Casket from your Realm was but the first of Odin's mistakes." Frigga said, silently bracing herself. One hand, resting on the table top, curled just slightly, ready to start flinging spells if it became necessary. "For the Casket was not all that Odin removed from this Realm. He returned to Asgard with another prize as well. Or, what he thought to be a prize. A Jotun babe. Small and, so he claimed, left to die." One last deep breath, and then she said it. "A babe bearing the marks of the Royal Line of Jotunheim."

(_)(_)(_)

Byleistr listened quietly as Frigga began to talk. Privately, Byleistr agreed that they'd be best served, if any attempt at peace between them was to succeed, in burying the ancient history that neither of them had been alive to experience. It hardly mattered at this late date how things had gotten started. What mattered was patching the damage done since then.

Byleistr was also willing to admit that Queen Frigga had a really good and legitimate excuse for not kicking Odin's ass right from the get go. Attempting to depose the hero-king of the Golden Realm would have been literal suicide a thousand years ago. All that could have been done would be to wait for Odin to screw up badly enough for the people to be willing to rebel ... or to do as Frigga had apparently done. Build a reputation as a better sovereign than Odin and wait for an opportunity to take over with minimal, if any, blood shed among the Aesir.

Frigga's final words, however, knocked such thoughts straight out of Byleistr's head. It took a couple seconds for the import of what Frigga had admitted to really sink in. Whereupon it took a bit for Byleistr to really ... digest ... what had been said.

Byleistr had always known they were not, in actuality, the youngest of Laufey and Farbauti's children. The youngest, however, had largely been a forbidden subject. Spoken of rarely, and with grief and rage apparent in near-equal parts when the subject did come up.

Byleistr was young enough when the third child was born that they had no memory of the child. All Byleistr's knowledge of the youngest came from Farbauti or Helblindi. Laufey had refused to speak of the child at all.

Byleistr knew that the child had been born small, and that their parents feared for the child's survival. So much so that they had even neglected to name the child, reluctant to attach themselves to a child that might fall prey to Jotunheim's less than welcoming environs before it could even become mobile. They had taken child to the temple for the priests to watch over and succor until it was certain whether the child would survive or not.

Byleistr also knew that in the wake of Odin's rampage on Jotunheim, the priests had been found dead. The child had not been found at all. Given the dead priests and the amount of blood shed in the temple, Byleistr's parents had both presumed that the defenseless infant had been slaughtered. Whether by Aesir or by wildlife mattered little to either of them. The body, they assumed, had been consumed or carried off by one of the realm's many predators before the area had been cleared out and the dead priests found during the cleanup efforts. Certainly, the realm's predators had been all over the ravaged city, taking advantage of the lack of warriors and the overabundance of available meat in the form of the dead.

Apparently, that had not been the case. As realization set in, it took every ounce of Byleistr's control to refrain from attacking the Aesir, or calling on their fellows to do it. Actually, their people helped Byleistr get under control, because as those present realized what Frigga had admitted to, they began to react - rather negatively, to put it mildly.

Byleistr gave vent to some small portion of their temper by snarling at the others, ruthlessly ordering them to stillness and silence in their own tongue. That this resulted in a number of vocalizations that the Aesir would feel rather than hear, and which (if their reactions were anything to go by) cowed a couple of them helped restore some semblance of control and calm to Byleistr. Fortunately, despite their outrage, none of the warriors were willing to disobey him, so the Aesir were not attacked. At least, not yet.

"Where. Are. They." Byleistr snarled at Frigga.

"Currently, on Midgard." Frigga admitted.

She alone seemed to not have been affected by the reaction to her news. The rest of the Aesir were clutching at their weapons and eyeing the surrounding Jotuns. Though it was entirely possible that Frigga was as ready to defend as the others. Frigga was, after all, Vanir by birth, and renowned for her magical skills.

"He was raised as a prince of Asgard." Frigga went on. "Only Odin, myself, and Heimdall knew for certain of his true heritage, though I imagine a few others figured it out if they sat down to think about it."

And Byleistr knew the name given to this child. "Loki." He growled. "You speak of Loki Silvertongue. The Trickster." He scowled at Frigga. "What has Odin Child Thief done to my sibling that he is condemned to Midgard?"

(_)(_)(_)

Well, that had gone over better than Frigga had feared, although she knew the worst wasn't over yet.

"He is not condemned there, Byleistr. He is there by his choice." She said. "Though I am sorry to say that he is not without harm done him by Odin, despite my best attempts otherwise."

She could *feel* at least one of the Warriors Three fighting the urge to defend Odin. Sif, who had been exposed to Odin pulling something extremely questionable, was grim-faced and silent beside her and not the source of the tension.

"Loki was bespelled to appear Aesir." Frigga admitted. "But Odin never stilled the tongues of those that spoke ill of Jotuns. Nor was any allowance made for the fact that despite appearing Aesir, Loki was of a different Realm and thus would never be Aesir, no matter how hard he tried."

She held up a hand when Byleistr visibly and literally bristled, actually growing little ice spikes so that he ended up resembling a Midgardian creature called a hedgehog.

"Peace, Byleistr. I do not mean that as an insult. I mean it in the sense that those born to each realm have different gifts. The elves are masters of magic. The dwarves masters of mining and crafting, and so on. To expect a resident of any realm to match the residents of another realm in their skills is folly."

Byleistr relaxed a bit.

"Loki was not without aid." Frigga said. "I raised him and love him as if he were my own son. I taught him such magic as he was ready to learn as he grew. I taught him statecraft. Thor loves him dearly."

"What. Went. Wrong." Byleistr may have relaxed marginally, but it was clear from his tone that he was still extremely angry. Not that Frigga blamed him a bit.

"Loki found out the truth of his parentage." Frigga admitted. "After a millennium of hearing naught but ill of Jotuns from virtually everyone around him." It was, of course, a bit more involved than that, but that had been the bulk of the problem at the time. "Things did not go very well from there. He has ... regained some equilibrium at this point. Found people who know little to nothing of the Aesir or Jotuns on Midgard and joined their company. Though I fear it will take time before he truly accepts the truth."

(_)(_)(_)

It was taking every ounce of Byleistr's control to not howl in rage. What in the name of all the hells that ever were had been *done* to his sibling? Byleistr was intelligent enough to know that Frigga wasn't telling the whole story. Nor should Frigga tell it all just now, as Byleistr wasn't sure they'd be able to refrain from killing Frigga and their company, regardless of the fact it would restart the Aesir-Jotun war with a vengeance.

Byleistr shoved to his feet and started to pace, growling angrily. Byleistr wanted to go to Midgard right then and steal his sibling away, but if Loki'd been raised to loathe his own people, that would not go over well. Not to mention the fact that Loki was reknowned throughout the realms as second only to Frigga herself in magical skills. He was second to none when it came to cunning, scheming, and manipulation. Crossing such a one could only ever end in tears and pain for everyone involved that wasn't named Loki. Byleistr would be far more likely to end up signing over the rights to their firstborn or something of the sort than getting Loki to come to Jotunheim to live.

Byleistr paced for a good five minutes before they managed to calm down enough to talk, rather than scream, demand, or physically attack.

"You will remain here. I will send for my sibling and my parent and you will inform them of this. At that point, it will be up to Farbauti to decide what is to be done, as it is their child that was stolen, and only my sibling."

Byleistr whirled towards their warriors, and called for a half dozen of the most even-tempered - and thus least likely to raise weapons to the Aesir despite the circumstances.

"Take them to the southwest caves. It's warmest there. Guard them and do not permit them to wander." That last command being more for the Aesir's safety than anything else. Byleistr wouldn't put it past about half of the assembled warriors to try to attack the Aesir. Heck, Byleistr wouldn't put it past themself to do so.

He pointed to two long-legged youths. "You, Take one of the beasts each and make haste to Farbauti and Helblindi's strongholds. Inform them their presence is required with all haste, and why."

The two youths bolted out of the room, and Byleistr turned towards the Aesir.

"These six will escort you to the rooms you will use during your stay. I must request that you not wander beyond that corridor. Not only would you risk becoming lost in the depths of the caves, but your safety could not be ensured."

Frigga, to their credit, accepted the situation with a calm, regal nod. The other four were nowhere near as calm or happy, and looked to be having great difficulty keeping their tongues behind their teeth. Whatever force it was that convinced them to remain silent, Byleistr was grateful. It was lessening the chances of disaster striking.

Chapter Text

Frigga and Farbauti

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

The last two days had been ... tense. To put it mildly. Frigga, Sif and the Three had been escorted to their accommodations by six very grumpy looking Jotuns. It turned out that the 'southwest caves' were at the end of a long, clearly carved tunnel.

It wasn't until they actually got there that Frigga recognized where they were - though not because she'd been here in the past. Merely because she'd heard about this place from her parents as a child. Byleistr had set himself and his people up in a complex of caves that had been heavily used, many millennia ago. Back when the Jotuns had been friendlier and welcomed trade - and thus had need of someplace where their trade partners wouldn't freeze to death. They had dug a series of caves close to what humans would term a geothermal vent, resulting in rooms with temperatures closer to those found in other realms. The rest of the area around those caves had swiftly become a thriving marketplace, and had been so for millennia before the Jotuns had gotten aggressive and insular. After that, the area had fallen into disuse. But it was still here, and the vent still active. The cave-rooms were clearly disused but that had hardly been surprising. Jotuns didn't do well in warm temperatures, so would have been disinclined to come here and clean the place up when they wouldn't be using it themselves.

Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun took the first available rooms on the southwest corridor, putting themselves between Frigga and any potential trouble. Sif, while apologetic, was very firm on the idea of sharing a room with Frigga as further protection.

Frigga knew she didn't really need protection. She was more than capable of holding her own, even if she wasn't a fully trained warrior the way the boys and Sif were. Magically, there were remarkably few who had a hope of matching her. But she understood how uneasy her four companions were, and that they would feel better for being allowed to do this.

They'd stayed put. Byleistr had seen to it they were brought food and water but otherwise kept his people away from them, which was probably a good thing. Most of them seemed very disgruntled. Not that Frigga blamed them one bit. Still, somehow or other, they managed to make it the two days it took Farbauti and Helblindi to arrive.

This was going to be ... tricky. To say the least. Farbauti had legitimate reasons to declare war on a number of fronts. Frigga wouldn't even blame her if she did, despite not wanting such a thing to come to pass. If she'd been in Farbauti's place, she would have raised about a hundred different kinds of hell.

When the summons came, Frigga made a fast decision. She knew that Sif, while she had recently become somewhat more sympathetic to Loki, had a rather fraught history with him. Hogun, from what she knew, had never really trusted him. Fandral, while fairly neutral to Loki, was an incurable flirt, and Frigga was unwilling to risk that in such a fraught situation. Volstagg, on the other hand, had been somewhat willing to give Loki the benefit of the doubt on many occasions. Better, he was a parent himself, and would understand most of the issues at hand regarding Loki for both Farbauti and Frigga.

"Volstagg, you will accompany me." Frigga commanded. "The rest of you remain here, and for the Norn's sake, cause no trouble!" They hadn't thus far, but Frigga had been right there the whole time. There was no telling what they might be inclined to do with her out of sight.

Volstagg got to his feet, and the two of them followed the guards out and back towards the meal hall they'd been in the first day. They were met by upwards of twenty Jotun warriors in a protective semi-circle just behind Byleistr and the two new arrivals.

The three of them standing together were ... interesting. At first glance, to others, one Jotun looked much like the next. But after two days of being in their company and exposed to several Jotuns in halfway peaceable conditions, Frigga was beginning to be able to tell one from another by means other than their markings. The differences were subtle and difficult to perceive, but they were there. Or at least, they were subtle in most cases. It turned out the differences were a bit more marked with the royal family.

Farbauti, while every bit as tall as every other Jotun in the room, was visibly narrower through the shoulders and leaner, their features smoother and more refined than most. Were Farbauti Loki's height and Loki in his Jotun body, Frigga was willing to bet they'd be virtually indistinguishable. Laufey, Frigga knew, had been of more normal bulk and rough features. Small wonder most folks from other Realms referred to Farbauti as the Jotun Queen, despite Jotuns not having separate sexes like that.

Byleistr and Helblindi seemed to have split the difference as regarded their parents' physical differences, with Byleistr leaning more towards Farbauti, in that they were a bit on the lean side with more regular facial features, and Helblindi more towards Laufey, with only high cheekbones and a slightly narrow face as a nod to Farbauti.

"It would seem." Farbauti growled, their tone more than a little displeased. "That we have much to discuss, Frigga. And then you will take me to see my child."

Frigga decided to keep her mouth shut - for the moment - on how that might not be the best idea. They'd deal with that bit later. Farbauti was far too likely to assume it was an attempt to keep them from their child out of spite at the moment.

(_)(_)(_)

Farbauti (and Laufey, despite outward appearances) had spent the last millennium quietly mourning their youngest child. Jotun ways might be brutal, but that did not make them devoid of the gentler emotions, and regardless of species, losing an infant was never a pleasant event. That they had been deprived of even a body to bury had made matters that bit more difficult, the grief that bit sharper and more reluctant to fade.

It was as well that even at the top speed one of their roughly-domesticated beasts could manage, Byleistr's chosen stronghold was a day's travel away. It had given Farbauti much-needed time to vent some small portion of their rage and reach at least a pretence of calm.

Did they ever lay eyes on Odin Child Thief again in this life, that fell monster would not survive the encounter. Farbauti just hoped that Odin was consigned to whatever an Asgardian considered to be the most horrible afterlife. An eternity of that might just begin to repay the debt Odin had accrued in life.

"You will tell us what has been done to our child." Farbauti snapped.

For a wonder, Frigga did exactly that.

Vanir by birth Frigga might have been, and foreign to Jotun perceptions, but it was clear to Farbauti as the tale unfolded that whatever purpose Odin had for stealing their child, Frigga had seen it as her own and treated it as such. For that small mercy, if no other, Farbauti decided Frigga's life would be spared, no matter what else was revealed. Farbauti was well aware of the limitations the mate of a ruler worked under, and knew that Frigga would have only been able to do so much to counter Odin and his decrees without awakening his ire.

Farbauti was startled, if relieved, to learn that Thor not only had seen their child as his sibling, but continued to do so even after the child's true parentage was revealed. Given Thor's eagerness to shed Jotun blood not so long ago, it was good news.

Unfortunately, it would seem that was to be the only good news to be found in Frigga's tale. More than once over the next few hours, Farbauti had to call a halt to Frigga's recital so they could withdraw and give vent to some of their outrage at what they were hearing.

What in the name of all that was holy had Odin been thinking? It made no sense! To raise a child, not just in ignorance of who and what they really were, but in a society that vilified who and what they really were? Then to, from all appearances, evidently expect said child to ascend the throne of their birth people? The number of ways that could have gone wrong boggled Farbauti's mind. But then, for all they knew, that had been the whole idea.

"I have, in the last few weeks, begun to think that perhaps Odin suffered from some malady of the mind." Frigga said. "It would explain much of his actions in recent times, though not back when he first brought Loki to Asgard." Frigga sighed. "It was all bound to go wrong, no matter what happened. Even had I been permitted to sit Loki down and explain things calmly, he would have taken it badly. As things occurred ... well, it could have gone worse, but not by much."

"Thor was much favored by Odin, and more than a bit spoiled. He was arrogant, and ill-suited for the throne, even as regent until Odin returned from his Sleep. But Odin would not hear me when I attempted to warn him, and Loki had by then learned better than to speak of his concerns. They would have been taken in the worst possible light by nearly everyone. So Loki put into place a plan. A not very well conceived one, it must be admitted. But desperation will make a fool of even the cleverest of beings." Frigga said.

"So that is how some of our warriors managed to get to Asgard, to never return, and how Thor came to be here and confronted Laufey." Farbauti said. They had not known all of the particulars, as Laufey had been killed less than two days later.

Frigga nodded. "Yes. From what I have been told, Loki tried to defuse the situation in multiple ways, both before they came here and once they arrived, to no avail. Apparently at some point during the fight that broke out, one of your warriors grabbed Loki by the arm."

"The freezing touch would not have worked on him." Farbauti said. "Regardless the appearance of his body."

"Exactly. Evidently, it was enough to force his skin blue, even through Odin's spells. I ... didn't know." Frigga, even to Farbauti's ears, sounded unhappy. "Not until well after the fact ... after Loki had confronted Odin. I still don't know what, exactly, Odin told Loki, but whatever it was, it did Loki no favors. He was ... very rattled. I thought having something else to concentrate on, to take his mind off the news, would be a good thing. It was not. It made matters much, much worse."

Farbauti growled as Frigga told the rest of the tale. Farbauti could see the thread of more-than-slightly-unhinged 'logic' that had governed Loki's actions after the discovery of his true parentage. To a completely sane mind, the faults in the train of thought were rather blatant, but to someone who was well past not thinking clearly, it might seem like a good idea.

While the damage to Jotunheim had been extensive, Farbauti was more than happy to put all the blame for it on Odin's shoulders. Had he done things differently, Loki would not have become so unhinged. Just disallowing prejudiced speech against Jotuns in the palace would have helped, even if nothing else had been done differently.

No, Loki would pay no price at Farbauti's hands for his actions. Farbauti could not guarantee such would be true for all Jotuns, but Farbauti had enough influence to keep most from lashing out.

(_)(_)(_)

Frigga let out a slow, measured breath that would have been a sigh of relief under other circumstances. So far, so good. Literally everyone in the room seemed to have decided to come down on the side of sympathy where Loki was concerned, focusing their outrage on Odin.

And boy, had there ever been outrage. To put it mildly. There had been rather a lot of howling, growling, and not a little physical violence during the telling of the tale. Fortunately the physical violence had been focused on chairs, tables, and walls rather than herself or Volstagg. Nor had Farbauti been the only one to give vent in such ways. Practically every Jotun in the room had lost their composure at least once. Nor did Frigga blame them in the least. The Norns alone knew she'd be ripping people to shreds if something like this had happened to Thor. Just the thought of it had her hackles up.

Frigga probably would have been amused to discover that she was in complete agreement as to the preferred fate for Odin.

"This does not explain how my child has come to call Midgard home." Farbauti finally said.

Frigga mentally grimaced. "That part of the tale is ... alarming, to be honest. Loki ... fell off the Bifrost, despite Thor's best attempt to prevent it." She said. Better to not say it was a suicide attempt. Frigga had no idea how Jotuns saw such things. Certainly, suicide was viewed with great contempt in Asgard, as it was considered a coward's death.

"Even he was unsure how long he remained in the Void before he was ... found. Unfortunately, he was found by the worst possible being in all of existence. He was found by Thanos." Maybe not personally, but Thanos had certainly had Loki in hand very shortly thereafter, so it counted.

Farbauti flinched violently and snarled an oath, making a warding gesture at just the name, never mind the idea of what that being could and would do to any that came into his grasp. "By the ice that spawned us, how is Loki yet alive?" Farbauti demanded.

"Solely because Thanos had a use for him, I fear." Frigga said. "For once he had broken Loki and forced him to his will by nefarious means." Frigga still wasn't quite sure how Thanos had managed to regain his power, or the exact means by which he had gotten Loki under mind control, but it was fair to assume 'nefarious' was about the nicest way to put it. "Then forced Loki to go to Midgard and fetch for him a tool that Odin lost many centuries ago that ended up on Midgard. A tool that would permit Thanos to reach Midgard with little effort, and from thence loose his army upon all the nine realms."

That got a grim-sounding curse out of Farbauti. "Obviously, this was somehow thwarted." Farbauti rightly guessed.

"Just so. The mind control that Thanos employed left a visible marker - it turned the victim's eyes a pale blue and made them glow. Thor noticed the change - Loki's eyes have always been green - and combined with aberrant behavior on Loki's part, the idea of him not attacking Midgard of his own free will was brought forth. Shortly after that, it was discovered to be truth, and a way to free Loki found. At that point Loki joined forced with Thor and some Midgardian defenders to turn back the attempted invasion."

That got a surprised and pleased sounding rumble. "Midgardian has defenders now, does it? Capable of matching those of the other Realms?" Farbauti wanted to know.

"Yes." Frigga said. "Quite a number so capable. It would seem that Midgard is nearly ready to take its place in the Realms. It is an ignorant backwater no longer, though admittedly it is not yet fully enlightened, either."

"And in so little a time, too." Farbauti said, sounding amazed. "It took more than five lifetimes for any of the other Realms to rise, and our lives are much longer than those of Midgard. For them to be ready to rise within two of our lifetimes is remarkable."

"Quite so. They seem to be ... uniquely adaptable to any circumstance, which probably accounts for part of the speed of their rise. Their short lives may also be a part of it. They have to compact the actions taken over centuries or millennia into less than a century if they mean to live to see their goal, whatever it may be, accomplished."

"Hmmm." Farbauti hummed, a sound that wasn't quite agreement, but wasn't disagreement either.

"Unfortunately, while they were successful in ending the invasion attempt, Heimdall has been able to confirm that Thanos is not giving up. He knows the way to Midgard now, and is bringing his army there the long way around. He will get there in about a year."

Farbauti scowled. "That cannot be allowed. He will raze the Realms if he manages to establish a stronghold there."

"Agreed. I have already been to Svartalfheim to warn the dwarves, and have sent the court Ambassadors to the other Realms to warn them. I felt that coming here myself would be the wisest course, given the things I was going to be disclosing." Frigga said.

She was just glad that, whatever else Farbauti might think of Asgard, they weren't willing to let Thanos have it or Midgard because Thanos posed a very real threat to Jotunheim if he managed to get a foothold anywhere in the Realms. Doubtlessly, Farbauti's grievances would be brought to bear once Thanos was thwarted once more, but that gave them a year to forge some sort of understanding that could ameliorate the worst of Farbauti's understandable outrage. It was better than nothing.

Chapter Text

Frigga, Farbauti, and Loki Part 1

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

In the end, Frigga was unable to convince Farbauti to not go to Midgard. She didn't even really blame Farbauti for their insistence. Had it been her, she'd have insisted on going immediately as well, regardless of whether it was a good idea or not.

Frigga was, however, able to argue that they wait for the next day. By the time Frigga had finished telling Farbauti everything, it had been fairly late and while staying overnight might still end up happening despite heading for Midgard first thing in the morning, they at least wouldn't be causing a mad scramble by showing up only a few hours before overnight lodgings would be required.

There ended up being quite a ... discussion ... between Farbauti, Helblindi and Byleistr. Both Helblindi and Byleistr wanted to meet their youngest sibling. Fortunately, Farbauti was able to convince them to wait for another time. The situation was going to be fraught enough with just Farbauti there. Adding the two siblings would complicate things.

The next morning, Frigga, Sif, the Three and Farbauti headed back to the abandoned, destroyed city and Frigga called for Heimdall.

"Heimdall, if you please."

They transferred to Asgard first, where they dropped Sif and the Three off, despite their desire to go to Midgard. As with having Helblindi and Byleistr there, having Sif and the Three present when Farbauti and Loki met was going to complicate things massively, and Frigga had put her foot down. They would not be going.

From there, Frigga and Farbauti transferred to Midgard, landing on the roof of Stark Tower.

(_)(_)(_)

Farbauti was incredibly nervous. Not that they would admit it to anyone. Well, nervous, incredibly upset and rather thoroughly enraged, among other things, but the nerves were taking precedence at the moment. Unlike their spouse, Farbauti had never been off Jotunheim before. That they were doing so now, in the company of the queen of Asgard was more than a little unnerving.

The view Farbauti got of Midgard did not help all that much. Climbing a mountain aside (and that was an entirely different affair), they had never been this high up before. Insofar as they knew, not even the Asgardian palace was this tall. And there were more structures as far as the eye could see. Some taller than this one, others the same height or shorter.

By the Void, if these structures were where the Midgardians lived, just how many of them were there? The potential numbers were almost beyond Farbauti's comprehension. There had been so few Jotuns for so long that their current living conditions - with perhaps a few hundred of them gathered in one place - seemed crowded to Farbauti. The idea of having so large a population as to be required to build structures like this to accommodate them all boggled their mind.

A few moments after they arrived, so too did several beings, only one of whom Farbauti knew - Thor. One of the other two was clad in some sort of metal armor - or was that the being itself? Farbauti had no idea - that was red and gold. It, like Thor, flew to the roof from somewhere else, though its method was far different than Thor's. With the red-and-gold being was a being that looked not unlike an Aesir, though somewhat shorter and less muscular.

"Mother?" Thor asked, focusing on Frigga.

"All is well, my son. Farbauti wished to meet ... "

That was as far as Frigga got before several other beings arrived. Again, all bore a passing resemblance to the Aesir, though shorter and not as muscular, though one of their company came remarkably close, being nearly identical to Thor in all respects to Farbauti's eyes. Several of them had weapons in evidence. Farbauti went very still. Beside her, Frigga made an amused noise.

"As I was saying. All is well. I wish ... " Frigga started again.

She never did get to introduce Farbauti properly, because at that point, Loki arrived.

And the first thing he did was throw a fireball in Farbauti's face.

(_)(_)(_)

In the end, Farbauti was fortunate that the rest of the Avengers got to the roof first. If Loki had gotten there first, there would have been a major problem. Luckily, Loki had been in his quarters when Frigga and Farbauti arrived - and Jarvis had had the wit to forewarn the rest of the Avengers first, then Loki.

"Mister Friggasson, your mother is on the roof." Jarvis told Loki. "In the company of a tall, blue skinned ... "

That was as far as Jarvis got.

Loki had glanced up from the book he was reading when Jarvis started talking, and had immediately put the book down when Frigga's presence was announced, the start of a happy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. That happiness, however, turned to blind rage at the partial identification of her companion.

Loki was firmly in the 'denial' stage of dealing with the shit that had poured down on his head over the last year or so at the moment. He was pretending, as best he could, that there wasn't a problem. That everything was fine. Sure, he'd had the nightmare that one time. The fact he hadn't slept since then was pure coincidence. He had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in, after all. He'd get around to sleeping again. Eventually. When he felt like it.

And that was where he was at with dealing with his fall, and Thanos, and what had happened to him in Thanos' keeping. The Jotun issue ... Loki was determinedly pretending that didn't exist at all, while still thinking of himself (for the most part) as a monster etc.

The whole thing had just been waiting for a spark to set off some epic fireworks. Frigga showing up with *any* Jotun was more like tossing a Molotov cocktail into a lake of gasoline. Loki instantaneously assumed the worst. After all, Jotuns were monsters, and it was not beyond the realm of possibility for such a base being to somehow get their hands on Frigga.

Loki's response was instantaneous. He teleported to the roof, between the gathered Avengers and his mother and the Jotun, and flung a fireball in its face, sparing just enough concentration and effort to ensure the fireball didn't so much as warm Frigga in the process, never mind burn her.

Given how easily magic in general had come to Loki, he'd always wondered why fire spells had been so difficult for him to master. He had finally chalked it up to the fact that no magician could be equally good at everything to do with magic. He'd worked all the harder to master them. Now, of course, he knew the truth of the matter.

During the battle with the Chitauri, Loki had been doing what he could to conserve his strength, as he'd no way of knowing how long the battle was going to last. Flimsy, short-term illusions - the sort of magic he could perform in his sleep - had been the easiest way to fight so many for an undetermined length of time.

He wasn't holding back now. He'd put his back into that fireball, for all it hadn't been permitted to singe Frigga. The blast melted some of the roof and caught more on fire, and Loki sent a second fireball almost before the first had left his fingers.

It was only a Jotun's instinctive response to danger that kept Farbauti from being very badly hurt. Pure instinct had them icing up - not just their arm as most Jotun warriors did in a fight, but their entire body. The first fireball hit that ice, which melted away under the assault. Farbauti still got singed, but nowhere near as badly as they would have otherwise. They managed to get a protective ice wall up between the first and second fireball.

Loki was snarling in rage, spewing vitriol and epitaphs as he hammered at Farbauti's constantly-reforming ice wall with fireball after fireball. He was deaf to the Avengers' alarmed cries and attempts to get him to calm down. Or he was until three people did some very stupid things.

Steve, shield up, jumped between Loki and Farbauti's ice wall roughly at the same time Frigga recovered from her shock at the viciousness of Loki's attack and put herself between Loki and his target, a protective shield shimmering into being around herself, Steve, and Farbauti. Steve didn't lower his shield despite the magical one going up.

At the same time, Thor, the only one with a prayer of physically restraining Loki other than the Hulk, got Loki in a bear hug from behind. He actually lifted Loki off his feet in an attempt to either spoil Loki's aim, break his concentration, or better yet, both. Frigga's shield still got nailed with one vicious fireball before the next went skyward thanks to Thor taking Loki off his feet.

Loki bellowed in rage and writhed, slamming his head back in an attempt to headbutt Thor, then writhing violently in a desperate attempt to get free. Loki called Thor every name in the book and then some - accused him of cowardice and worse in his attempts to get free.

The bastard refused to loose his hold. When Loki kept fighting, Thor finally resorted to body-slamming Loki onto the roof and then planting Mjolnir on his chest. Loki shrieked in rage because while there had been the possibility of him getting out of Thor's grasp - Mjolnir was an entirely different matter. Worse, Thor took advantage of having his hand free to grab Loki's wrists and pin them to the roof, preventing Loki from working any further magic.

It took a good ten or fifteen minutes for Loki to calm down enough to even begin to think, and stop physically flailing around. Even at that, it couldn't be called an improvement, because where before Loki had just been spewing whatever came to mind, now he was calm enough to focus and aim his verbal attacks.

"Get your damn hammer off me, Thor." Loki demanded.

Thor, sadly, wasn't going for it. "I think not, brother. Nor will I loose your hands." Interestingly, however, Thor made no attempt to silence Loki. Loki would think about the implications of that later. Much, much later.

So be it. Loki had worked with worse circumstances when it came to flaying someone alive verbally. He gave a harsh, mocking laugh that had nothing of humor in it.

"How sweet." Loki fairly purred in a venomous, slightly unhinged tone of voice that probably had everyone's hackles rising instinctively. It was not a comforting sound. "The beast that bore the monster come to see the get it abandoned in the snow to die. How touching. Do tell me ... when did I become of interest to you, before or after I slew Laufey? Or was it that I attempted to destroy Jotunheim that made me worth claiming? Are you proud of all the death I've wrought? Or was it not enough blood to sate you?"

"My child ... " Farbauti started. It was a mistake.

"I AM NOT YOUR CHILD." Loki shrieked, abruptly writhing in Thor's grasp again, trying desperately to get out from under Mjolnir despite knowing it was impossible. "You and your precious king left me to die!"

Farbauti, though, was having none of it. They bellowed right back. "WE DID NOT." Then, more quietly. "Jotunheim is a harsh Realm, Loki. Those born small, or with infirmities, tend to die in horrible ways. Long ago, it became our way to test such children to see if they could survive ... and to spare those that could not a lingering, possibly quite painful death. You were undergoing that test when the Child Thief stole you from us. The temple was trashed, and the priests slaughtered. When your body was not found, we thought you lost to one of the predators or scavengers that roam the Realm, and grieved your passing."

Loki gave a harsh laugh. "I am the God of Lies, beast. If you think to dupe me with your tale, you are sorely mistaken." Then he gave Thor a positively evil glare. "Let. Me. Up. or I will destroy the roof to get out from under this blasted hammer."

Thor must have seen the truth of it in Loki's eyes, because he reluctantly lifted Mjolnir clear of Loki. Loki scrambled to his feet, for once eschewing grace in his desire to just get the hell out of there as fast as possible. He leveled a vicious glare at Farbauti.

"Never poison this Realm with your presence again." He snarled. "I will not hesitate to kill you, do I see you again." Loki immediately teleported out.

He wasn't in the mood to hang about and find out how the Avengers were going to react to his loss of control. Experience had taught him that regardless of whatever goading he had endured, he would be seen to be at fault for lashing out. He grit his teeth angrily. So much for this, then. He should have known better. Should have known something would happen to ruin it. With a sigh, he started packing.

He didn't get very far before, to his shock, Darcy arrived. She blinked when she saw him packing.

"So ... where you going?" She asked.

"It hardly matters, does it? The Avengers will not tolerate my presence after this." Loki said.

Darcy actually laughed. "Dude. Right now? They're up on the roof bitching Frigga and the smurf out. I thought Tony was going to blow a blood vessel, Bruce was looking more than a little green around the gills, and Steve looked like he wanted to smack someone over the head with his shield ... and it wasn't you he wanted to hit, either. And that was just in the minute or so before I came after you. They're probably two inches from starting World War Three up there by now. Nobody's mad at you. Well, ok, Tony might be a bit miffed at you setting a chunk of the roof on fire, but he gets that it wasn't what you were trying to do."

Loki blinked at her in surprise. "They're not blaming me?"

"Shit no." Darcy said. "That's all on Frigga and the smurf. I mean, we all know you've got some heavy duty shit you've had happen to you, and that you're kinda avoiding dealing with it. Which, completely understandable, given what we know of what's going on. It's a *lot* of shit. And forcing you to confront any part of it before you were ready - and without a warning so you could brace yourself - was pretty fucking uncool."

Darcy walked over and put a hand on his arm. "I know you're not used to people having your back when shit goes down, but we're never going to just automatically think everything is all your fault." She shot a look around his room. "So you don't have to do a runner, all right? We're not pissed *at you* and we're not gonna take it out on you. Though I kinda have to say - those fireballs? Bad. Ass."

Loki made an amused noise as some of his anger and irritation fled. "You are an unusual being, Darcy." He said. Some part of him unclenched just a little bit. He didn't quite believe her. After a millennium of basically being the designated whipping boy, trusting in anyone's good nature wasn't going to come easily. He had to admit that the Avengers had yet to play him false though, despite having more than ample reason to do so, given his actions in this Realm.

Darcy grinned at him. "You better bet I am. C'mon. I'm gonna take you out for some retail therapy. Get your mind off of ... well, stuff ... and give the gang a chance to shoo unwanted visitors away."

"Retail therapy?" Loki wanted to know.

"Otherwise known as shopping. I know you packed your stuff when you left Asgard, but I figure you're going to need some stuff only available here. Like a phone, something to play tunes on when you're not in the Tower, or on the common floors and don't want to bug people with your music. Some books, stuff like that."

That sounded practical. And it would get him away from the Tower until THEY were gone. And give him a chance to regain his equilibrium. "Very well then, Darcy. Lead the way."

Chapter Text

Frigga, Farbauti, and Loki Part 2

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Frigga was more than a little horrified. Mostly at herself. It became rather blatantly obvious that she'd made a mistake - more than one if she was going to be honest with herself. Which, she refused to go down the road of self-delusion that had eventually led to where Odin was at now. So she was going to be brutally honest with herself.

She'd messed up. Big time.

To be completely fair to herself - well, there were mitigating circumstances. Had it been Asgardians they'd planned to go visit, Frigga would never have shown up unannounced. She knew better than that. Asgardians were a warrior people and tended to react negatively to surprise visitors.

While Frigga knew that the Midgardian Avengers were warriors, she was also aware that their cultures were not warrior-centered the way Asgardian culture was. So she'd made the mistaken assumption that the Midgardian Avengers would not be as twitchy about surprise visitors.

It hadn't helped that despite Frigga's best arguments, Farbauti hadn't been in a mood to take 'no' for an answer. Nor, to her shame, had it occurred to her to utilize any of a number of means she had at hand to forewarn the Avengers and Loki. And while Frigga knew Loki was (to put it bluntly) not happy about the truth of his parentage, she'd completely underestimated just how bad his reaction would be.

To put it bluntly, she deserved every bit of the tongue lashing she (and Farbauti) got the moment Loki teleported away from the roof.

"What. The. Fuck." Tony Stark snapped, glaring at her.

He looked angry enough to compete with Doctor Banner on the 'turning big and green' front. Frigga kept a wary eye on him, aware his armor had weapons he could deploy with little to no warning. The others, she would get a second or two's warning before they struck.

"No. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were the one with a brain. I mean, shit, did Loki really learn it from absolutely nowhere, because this was the dumbest fucking move I think I've ever seen, and that includes fucking Ross thinking he could contain Hulk by shooting at him, which seriously. Dumbass."

Beside her, Farbauti stiffened. Frigga shot her a look, but didn't speak. Unfortunately, Farbauti still drew Tony's ire.

"As for you ... well, shit. I don't even know where the hell to start, because seriously. I don't know and don't care what the truth of how Loki came to be on Asgard is. What matters is what he's been told for literally his entire life. Which is that Jotuns are horrible monsters and he was abandoned to die. Even if you didn't know that, how the HELL you expected anyone raised Asgardian to greet you with open arms, I'll never know." Then Tony swung his gaze back to Frigga.

"Which brings us to ... what the fuck did you tell her?" Tony waved a hand at Farbauti. "And seriously, why the fuck did you decide now, of all times, to shove your head up your ass? You know exactly what Loki grew up hearing about Jotuns. And how he found out he was one. And what happened after that. How the hell you thought bringing her here was a good idea is beyond me."

He leveled a surprisinly lethal glare at both of them. "Now, the two of you are going to get the hell off my building and go back where you belong. You." He pointed at Farbauti. "Are not going to come back until such time as Loki invites you himself, which I'm thinking at this point is going to be a solid 'never'. You." And he pointed at Frigga. "Are going to stay the hell away until Loki calms back down, at which point if he is feeling up to it, you can come back and grovel for his forgiveness."

(_)(_)(_)

Farbauti came as close to slack-jawed disbelief as made no nevermind.

They did not understand what the heck had just happened. Who these people were that they presumed to keep their child from them. Then before Farbauti had been able to come up with some way to punish them for their presumption, their child appeared.

And tried to kill them. In deadly earnest.

Now, their child was gone, they knew not where, and this ... creature ... dared to censure the rulers of two Realms? More confusingly, Frigga was allowing it.

It wasn't until Farbauti began to calm down and actually listen to what the Midgardian was saying that they were able to hear the wisdom in the words despite the exceedingly disrespectful tone. Then, on further contemplation, they realized that mayhap the disrespect was warranted in this instance.

"This was most of my doing." Farbauti admitted. "I ... Loki is my child, that I thought lost to predators long ago. I fear I may have lost sight of sense in the wake of discovering my child still lived." They sighed. "I will go, but ... staying away may not be possible. Not when that which seeks dominion over your Realm must needs be dealt with. It will take all the Realms to conquer Thanos."

The Midgardian that had spoken did not change expression in the least, but the one that minded Farbauti strongly of Thor stepped forward and spoke.

"For that, working together will be required, yes. But I think it's best if we avoid you and Loki - or any Jotun and Loki, for that matter, encountering each other as much as possible until he's at a point where his first response isn't fireballs or worse."

Farbauti reluctantly bowed to the wisdom of that statement. "True. Though ... if he begins to attempt to explore his Jotun heritage before he is ready to be around us, let me know. There are things he will need to know."

"Fair enough, and we'd be happy to pass messages until he can handle meeting face to face." The Thor-alike said. Farbauti was getting the feeling that though the Midgardian resembled Thor in looks, they were nigh as different in temperament as could be.

"I'll be back in a week or so." Frigga said. "I know Loki well enough to know it will be about that long before he truly calms down enough to hear an apology without getting aggravated all over again." Then Frigga glanced up. "Heimdall."

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was normally the furthest thing from passive, but at the moment, he found himself willing to both indulge Darcy's whims and to let her have full reign on what they did and where they went. Part of that was that Loki had no idea of what was available in the realm of merchandise and shopping. He'd only been outside the Tower the once and then only to a place called Macy's and a small tailor's shop for suits.

Part of it was the fact he'd expended more than a bit of energy trying to fry the Jotun, and would need a bit to restore that energy. Especially since he, you know, hadn't been sleeping. Even if he point-blank refused to think about or otherwise admit to *why* sleep had become such an issue.

Loki wasn't an idiot. He knew that dealing with the crap that had hit in the last year was not going to be fun. That it would, in fact, probably get worse before it got better. The problem was that everything in Loki rebelled at the idea of trying to put the pieces back together while others were around.

He'd never had damage of this magnitude to fix before, but Loki'd had incidents from time to time where he'd needed to soothe his wounded pride or get over a particularly hurtful episode. Once he'd gone past the early childhood years when running to one's mother for succor was seen as acceptable, Loki had always retreated somewhere to be alone while he nursed such wounds. Vulnerability of any sort was not well received in Asgard, and the general distaste with which Loki had always been treated had made exposing any sort of weakness exceedingly unwise.

Loki knew, academically at any rate, that the Avengers would not mock him. But overcoming a lifetime of habit was not so easy. Unfortunately, retreating somewhere to put himself back together in private wasn't an option. The very idea of leaving the relative safety of Midgard and the protection the Avengers provided made Loki want to cringe. Oh, Thanos could and would get to him here, but at least here there were people that could and would try to stop him. On his own, Loki wouldn't last long.

Unfortunately, as much as Loki didn't want to deal with this in the company of others, he really wasn't going to have a choice before too much longer. If nothing else, today convinced him of that. Because really. Yes, Jotuns were horrible and all that, but the odds of Frigga, of all people, being some sort of hostage or otherwise in danger in a Jotun's presence? When Loki knew damn well Frigga could kick his ass every day of the week and not break a sweat? If nothing else, he *needed* to get control of that sort of overreaction or someone, somewhere, would use it against him.

Eventually, Loki forcibly pulled himself out of his thoughts, somewhat belatedly realizing that Darcy, normally fairly chatty, had been being very quiet as they went from one place to the next. He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts he'd been paying no mind to where they were at or what they were doing.

Which explained the horrified noise he made when he finally paid attention, only to realize they were in some small hole-in-the-wall store filled to the brim with clothing in truly horrifying color combinations, designs, fabric choices, or all three at once.

Darcy almost fell, she got to laughing so hard.

"There you are. I was beginning to wonder when you'd notice." She sputtered after a few moments.

Loki glowered at her, but there was no heat or true anger in it. "You are a horrible person, Darcy, to take advantage of me so." He accused, his tone surprisingly light given where his thoughts had been only a few moments before.

"Ok, now that you're done burning brain cells trying to think, we can do some actual shopping. I know you got a lot of clothes at Macy's, but I figure you could use more - everyone can - or we can hit electronics stores and we *have* to go to the Strand Bookstore. I want to see your *face* when we go in there. You're gonna love it." Darcy said.

Loki couldn't help perking up. "A bookstore, you say?" He asked. Printing and selling books was virtually unknown in other Realms. Oh, they were printed, but owning books was the purview of royalty and scholars only. Asgard and Alfheim both maintained libraries of tomes that could be read by the common citizens, but they could not be removed from the premises. Loki had known that printing and selling books was commonplace on Midgard - it was one of the reasons he liked the Realm.

"God yes, this is going to be epic. C'mon." Darcy said, a huge grin on her face.

She led them to a large white stone building with many windows and a bright red awning. There were waist-high rolling carts of books lined up on the sidewalk outside. A closer look at the windows revealed that they were entirely blocked by the spines of hundreds, perhaps thousands of books.

"Oh my." Loki said. Darcy snickered.

Walking in was, if anything even more overwhelming. There were waist-high bins crammed with books scattered around, and who knew how many nearly-ceiling-height bookshelves likewise crammed with books that extended for ... Loki wasn't sure how far, but quite a ways both before him and to one side.

"There's two and a half more floors just like this." Darcy said.

It was more than a bit mind boggling. Oh, the Asgard library was bigger than that, but again, those books were not for sale, nor were most of them permitted to be removed from the library even when you were a prince of the realm. The books Loki had were either surreptitiously-obtained copies of books he knew he'd want to use as a reference fairly frequently, or rare, costly gifts given to him by Frigga or one of his other instructors. The idea of tens or even hundreds of thousands of books available for purchase at all, never mind in one place, sort of blew Loki's mind.

"I hardly know where to begin." He admitted. He knew he had to look rather stupefied, and would forgive Darcy her pleased, amused chortling.

"Then I suggest working from the top down, and making a bunch of trips. Because it's gonna take a while to go through everything in this place. C'mon." Darcy said, and grabbed his hand to lead him to the upper levels.

She had to haul him out of the stacks by main force a little before the shop closed. By then, Loki had a considerable stack of books that had piqued his interest. Many of them were scholarly tomes, but others were something that was literally unknown on other Realms - fiction. Oh, Asgard and Alfheim had of course recorded tales of battles and such, and they could and did frequently make for very entertaining reading, but that was not their sole function, and they were all actual events. While fictional tales did exist in the other Realms, none were ever written down, to Loki's knowledge. Though he supposed it was possible that someone had written down a copy of their favorite tales for whatever reason, and kept it for themselves.

"Good thing you have a floor to yourself, Loki. You're gonna need the room for all the books you're going to end up with." Darcy said, sounding amused. "Now, we need to stop for food, because I know for a fact you haven't eaten today, and I knew better than to try to drag you out of here before the place closed. So c'mon. Food. Then back to the Tower and you can come here again another day. Tomorrow even."

It wasn't until they'd actually returned to the Tower - replete with food and Loki weighed down by the books he'd purchased, that the reason they'd left was brought back to mind. Loki blinked when he realized how thoroughly he'd been distracted, and shot Darcy a look.

She looked rather smug. She'd the right. He hadn't thought about the events of earlier in the day since about a half hour after they entered the bookstore. As distractions went, it had been an extremely effective one.

"Welcome back, Darcy, Mr. Friggason." Jarvis said as they came in the door. "The rest of the upper floor residents opted to watch movies this evening. The next movie will begin in about ten minutes, if you are inclined to join them."

Earlier today, Loki's answer would have been a resounding 'no'. Now, however, thanks to Darcy, he was in a far better, more sociable mood, and the idea of keeping company with the Avengers and their various friends, lovers, and other associates was a pleasant one.

"That should be just about enough time for me to drop these bags off, Jarvis." Loki said.

Chapter Text

The Asset

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

HYDRA had learned a few very important lessons from World War Two. After the loss of Schmidt and Zola, when Colonel Phillips, Peggy Carter and the Commandos tore most of HYDRA's bases down to their foundations in the wake of Steve going down with Schmidt's plane, they ... allowed it. They left just enough people in the bases to make it look convincing. Meanwhile, the bulk of their forces retreated to one of the bases that Zola had no knowledge of.

And from thence, they rebuilt themselves. Their credo and their ultimate goal remained the same, but it had become obvious that the methodology employed prior to and during World War Two was nonviable. Another means to their desired end was required.

So HYDRA went underground. Personnel that had been too junior, minor, or otherwise marginalized for Schmidt or Zola to have known their names or interacted with them became the 'face' of the organization, as the more well-connected and well-known personnel had been made useless by Zola's capture. As Zola had not seen fit to commit suicide, there could be no guarantee that he would not willingly or otherwise give the name and/or location of every HYDRA agent, base, and potential target he knew of.

While the lesser-known agents began the long, arduous process of working themselves into important positions, certain other agents took up where Zola left off.

While hiding in the dark was called for, there was no reason they could not also strike from the dark. No big, splashy, attention-getting 'HAIL HYDRA' stuff. Quiet assassinations of key figures, sneaky destabilizations of key governments and governmental figures.

But to do that, they needed assassins and infiltrators. Thus, in the last days of World War Two, was the organization calling itself the Red Room born. Over the next decades, hundreds of children, both male and female, of varying ethnicities and physical descriptions were ... acquired ... as soon after birth as could be managed. From there, they were trained (some would call it brainwashed), some were surgically altered, and others exposed to variants of Erskine's serum that HYDRA developed using Zola's surviving records.

The death toll among these children was horrific. Less than one in a hundred survived to adulthood. Of that paltry number, only ten remained stable and usable long term, the rest eventually succumbing to madness or sudden catastrophic failures of their bodies. By a quirk of fate, all ten were female, and eventually became known as 'Black Widows' to the wider world.

Natasha Romanoff was both the greatest success and the greatest failure of that particular program. She was its greatest success in that not only had she survived but excelled at the training, becoming a uniquely lethal and facile assassin capable of infiltration into any group or setting. She was also their greatest failure in that she grew a mind of her own and managed to escape their clutches, turning her considerable skills against them and their ilk at first solo and then under the aegis of SHIELD. All while reclaiming one of her 'false identities' as her true name, and openly using - and thus reclaiming - Black Widow as her code name.

They never figured out that the reason she grew a mind of her own and escaped them was thanks in large part to one of her trainers - known only to her and most others as 'The Asset'.

The Asset had been acquired by complete chance near the end of World War Two. It had been a subject of Zola's ... investigations ... into the Serum during a previous capture by HYDRA, and survived both those procedures and further events before they re-acquired it. Upon reacquisition, it had been reprogrammed extensively and its skills put to use in HYDRA's name.

More even than the Black Widows, The Asset was a ghost to the wider world for decades. Like the Black Widows, it was presumed, due to the length of its suspected service, to be multiple incarnations by those that believed it existed at all. However, in this case, the wider world was incorrect in its assumption. The Asset was but one weapon, not many. The Asset was used extensively in those early days, both alone and in tandem with one or another Black Widow or other HYDRA personnel.

Unfortunately, The Asset proved to be uniquely resistant to reprogramming. Its stability could only be ensured for short periods - less than a week - before recalibration was required. Thus it became standard procedure to keep The Asset in cryogenic stasis when its skills were not required.

Unfortunately for HYDRA, at one point, The Asset was paired with Natasha long enough that The Asset began to shake its programming, and certain doubts were planted in Natasha's mind. Those seeds of doubt eventually led to Natasha escaping the Red Room.

Of late, The Asset had spent more time in stasis than out of it. This was due more to the genesis of the digital age than The Asset's inherent instability. With cameras everywhere, satellites capable of taking clear pictures of license plates, and cell phones with built-in cameras becoming ubiquitous, The Asset could not be deployed as easily and frequently as in the past.

Unlike the Black Widows, The Asset could not change its appearance and mannerisms at will, rendering it all too identifiable from one engagement to the next if sufficiently clear footage of it was obtained. And that became more and more likely to happen as time went by. It could still be used if sufficient caution was employed, but the increasing difficulties in its use led to it remaining in suspension more often than not.

Discussions had even been entertained of ... retiring ... The Asset. Thus far, it still had use, so the discussions had been desultory at best. In the not too distant future however, The Asset's time would run out. The Asset remained blissfully unaware of this.

Then Steve Rogers was found. HYDRA agents around the globe bestirred themselves, and numerous meetings took place in the wake of Steve being pulled out of the ice. Now more than ever, HYDRA was grateful they had gone underground and worked in secret. Rogers had worked tirelessly to wipe them out, however futile his efforts had been. They were quite sure he would do so again, if he had any idea HYDRA still existed.

HYDRA did what they had become so good at. They waited, and they watched. While Steve confined himself to beating the crap out of punching bags and not stirring beyond that gym or the quarters he'd been given, they were content not to act. But when the invasion attempt occurred, things changed quickly.

HYDRA had fingers in virtually every pie around the globe. So they became aware nearly instantly of Charles Xavier rallying those mutants he had even tolerable relations to. Worse, Rogers had been put in charge of a team of people that had the capability to come after the Red Room in a way Natasha alone had never been able to manage and SHIELD, thanks to HYDRA intervention, had never bothered with. If those people came after the Red Room, it was all but inevitable that links to HYDRA would eventually be found.

HYDRA had only one chance. They agreed to recall a Black Widow currently in deep cover. This Black Widow, given the name Yelena Belova to differentiate her from her compatriots, had been the best Widow behind Natasha. Indeed, she had surpassed Natasha in certain areas, and was totally loyal to HYDRA. She was thus HYDRA's best chance at neutralizing Natasha.

The Asset was their only hope to take out the rest of the team. Especially the berserker. HYDRA knew that if Bruce Banner had so much as an inkling that danger was imminent, he would transform. Ross had shown that there was nothing that could take the berserker down nor contain it. Assassination by sniper was their best and, truth be told, only option to be rid of him.

Likewise with Tony Stark, if for other reasons. As well as Rogers. Wolverine, while difficult, they knew how to handle, and anticipated being able to reprogram it and turn it to their service, as it had proven susceptible to programming in the past. The mutant known as Pyro might be recruitable, and if not, well, a bullet would take care of the problem. The mutant known as Rogue would be ridiculously easy to eliminate. The various civilians that orbited the group were hardly worth mentioning, and all ridiculously easy to eliminate.

Hawkeye would be a challenge, if only because he, like The Asset, was a sniper by trade. He was thus more aware of when and where a sniper might be in residence and thus able to evade the danger. The real question was whether the so-called gods could be killed at all. If not, well ... containment methods were being investigated. One way or another, they would be neutralized.

The decision made, a facility deep in the mountains west of Magadan, Russia was reactivated the day after the attempted invasion, and Yelena recalled. While they waited for her to extract herself from her current assignment, the base was cleaned and aired and personnel moved in. This reduced the 'unused' air the facility had after having not been activated for several years.

Once personnel were in place, a well-trained team proceeded to the deepest sublevel. This area was heavily reinforced, with dedicated power generators and backup generators separate from those that powered the rest of the facility. Most of those generators and backups were attached to three items in small concrete-and-steel bunker at the far end of the level. One of these items best resembled a steel coffin. It was, in fact, the cryogenic chamber that held The Asset in stasis between assignments.

The chamber was attached to innumerable hoses, cables, and instrumentation. Some of the hoses and cables led through a small hole in the wall to the generators, while others snaked along the wall or across the floor to a bank of instruments and computer monitors in one corner near the bunker's door and was the second object in the room. Still others snaked across floor and wall to a heavily reinforced chair with retractable metal restraints and a bevy of computer hard drives, monitors, and other equipment. This was where The Asset was recalibrated upon thawing and as required once activated.

Due to The Asset's frequency of use in the past, and the range of places it was deployed, there were facilities like this scattered around the globe. This, though, was the primary facility for The Asset, and the one to which it was returned when its current assignment was completed. The personnel were thus far more familiar with the standard procedures for dealing with The Asset.

It took a full twenty-four hours for The Asset to thaw enough to begin recalibration. It was standard procedure, however, for armed personnel to be present from the moment the cryogenic chamber was turned off and the warming began. The Asset exhibited accelerated healing, and it would not do to assume an armed guard was unnecessary until shortly before the usual time for recalibration arrived. The Asset was to be presumed dangerous until recalibration was achieved.

Once The Asset was sufficiently thawed, it was required to move to the chair. This despite the fact its body was not yet fully under its control, and it was still shuddering from the cold. Still, it was dangerous to get within The Asset's grabbing range prior to recalibration, so no one was fool enough to do so.

The lead tech ensured The Asset was restrained in the chair and only then approached with a mouth guard. Once fully secured, the recalibration began. The personnel present all completely ignored the sounds of distress from The Asset, talking quietly among themselves about the upcoming mission.

An hour later, recalibration had been completed, and a second tech moved in to confirm the recalibration had taken effect. Once that was assured, only then did the guards' guns drop, and a senior HYDRA agent stepped neatly into the bunker with a file folder in hand.

In Russian, the agent began to speak. "The assignment." The agent said, handing off the file. "Elimination of these individuals. Black Widow Belova will be partnering you for this mission to assist in elimination of her rogue counterpart and such of the other targets as are deemed necessary due to circumstances. Extreme caution is to be observed at all times. These individuals exhibit a range of skills that will make them ... challenging ... to eliminate without detection. This is the location of the base to which reports will be made every third day." And, it went without saying, recalibration would be applied at those times. "This assignment will remain the only assignment until all objectives are completed. Transport to the secondary base has been arranged for an hour from now. Black Widow Belova will arrive at the base tomorrow night. She has been fully debriefed, so the assignment may begin immediately after her arrival."

The Asset took the file and flipped through it, its metal arm gleaming briefly in the harsh lights of the bunker. The agent observed carefully, but there was no sign of hesitation or recognition at any of the pictures in the file.

The agent allowed The Asset to peruse the file, which it did quickly, then handed the file back.

"Your gear is in the next room." The agent told The Asset.

The Asset got to its feet smoothly and marched out of the bunker. It took less than ten minutes to dress and arm itself, then marched to the surface and the transport awaiting it.

The ghost known to the intelligence community as The Winter Soldier was once more in play.

Chapter Text

Phil and Clint

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Phil's life had been busy the last two weeks. Surprisingly, though, it had not been anywhere near as busy as he'd feared it would be in the wake of the invasion. This was thanks in large part to the inestimable Pepper Potts.

The damage done in the battle had been extensive, but with so many people on their side of the fight, it had been rather less than it otherwise could have been. Especially if more than three of the enormous, armored flying creatures - space whales - had gotten past Thor and Storm's blockade. The smaller airborne vehicles hadn't been able to do anywhere near the damage one of the space whales would have managed. A single space whale would have done more damage just plowing into a building than a good two dozen of the smaller craft, and that didn't take the infantry and additional armaments the space whales had carried into account.

Professionally, Phil refused to call them space whales. Tony seemed to have been the one to coin the phrase and would never let Phil live down if he caught Phil using it. So he made a point of not using the phrase aloud, but he did think of them as such in his private thoughts.

At any rate, Phil's usual tasks in the wake of a large-scale attack involved coordinating relief and salvage efforts, ensuring necessary supplies and personnel reached the affected area in a timely manner, and liasing with the military and emergency personnel that had responded to the crisis in addition to SHIELD personnel. Such tasks generally took thirty hours out of his day. Which is to say, they generally took more time than he actually had.

This time, however, Pepper Potts had been right in the thick of it, primarily because Stark Industries and Iron Man had been at the epicenter of the attack. Phil had figured out very, very quickly after meeting her for the first time that Pepper was, in virtually every way, his counterpart. Ruthlessly competent and efficient, capable of winning and holding the trust of people who generally didn't even trust themselves, never mind anyone else - and completely underestimated by pretty much everyone outside of a very small circle of people.

With Pepper on the case, Phil's workload in the aftermath of the attack had been cut in half. He had appreciated the break. It had allowed him to keep a closer eye on Clint than he otherwise would have been able to manage. Not that he thought Clint still compromised or the like, but he knew Clint well enough to know that being mind-controlled was going to cause Clint considerable issues.

Not that any human would appreciate such a violation. Snipers, however, had a universal near obsessive-compulsive need to control as many variables as they possibly could in the execution of their jobs. It was a need that tended to carry over into other aspects of life. As such, any sniper would react a bit more negatively than the average.

Clint would react more poorly still. He had completely understandable issues with authority of any description, given what he'd been subjected to before Phil had become his handler. Abuse of authority never failed to bring out Clint's most insubordinate tendencies. That he had been forced to accept orders he would otherwise never have obeyed and been unable to fight back was going to end up driving Clint up a wall.

All the proof that Phil needed to know Clint wasn't dealing well was how quiet Clint was. It was to be expected when Clint was around the other Avengers. He did not know them, therefore did not trust them and would not risk giving them ammunition to use against him. But Clint had been worryingly quiet even when it was just Phil and Natasha, both of whom he trusted and who trusted him in return.

Phil knew it would be a while yet before the subject could be broached. Pushing Clint to do something he didn't want to or wasn't ready to do was a very, very bad idea. One that the handlers that had worked with him before Fury chucked Clint at Phil had figured out the hard way. Clint would come to them in his own time.

Hopefully, today would help with that. It had long been their habit that whenever schedules permitted, they'd meet up for an evening wherein work in any form was forbidden. All too often, they'd only managed one or two such nights in a six month period. Generally, they ordered in some junk food and watched movies on such nights, talking over whatever non-work subjects tickled their fancies.

In the early days of their team, such nights had been used to get Natasha up to speed on movie pop culture references. She had known both the references and the name of the movies they came from, but had never watched the movie, and as a result tended to not fully understand the significance of the reference. Her ... well, Phil refused to use the word 'trainers', even if that's what Natasha called them. Anyway, the people who had turned her into a Black Widow had realized that in order to blend in properly, the Widows would need to know pop culture, but had deemed actually watching the movies in question a waste of time.

It had also been an exercise in Natasha learning what she liked and didn't like for herself, by exposing her to as many genres of movies as they could manage. In their attempts to craft both the perfect weapon and the perfect infiltrator, the Red Room had eliminated virtually everything that involved free will of any description, including having preferences for anything. While Natasha had somehow managed to become able to think for herself enough to walk away from them, she had largely stuck to what she knew once out of their grasp. It hadn't been until Clint spared her life and Phil had become her handler that she'd been afforded the opportunity to become more than a weapon.

As if his thoughts summoned them, both Natasha and Clint arrived in Phil's quarters at that point. Clint via the catwalks, while Natasha took the more pedestrian route of arriving via the elevators. Both Natasha and Clint were burdened with take-out bags, and a second bag which had paper plates and plastic cutlery. They deposited their burdens on the coffee table in front of the couch.

It had taken all three of them a few days to realize that all three floors of their apartments were interconnected by well-hidden crawlways accessible only via the catwalks and platforms that Tony had installed on the three floors.

It was things like that that made Phil want to bounce Fury's head off a wall for a few times due to his treatment of Tony. Well, Fury and a lot of other people. Either that or laugh at just how thoroughly they'd all been schnookered.

For all of Tony's apparent flash and swagger, he had more than a little in common with Natasha when it came to being able to play people like fiddles. He might not be able to manage turning into a completely different person the way she could, but Tony's ability to read people and get them to react the way he wanted them to was nearly as good as hers. Hell, Tony'd gotten a roomful of rabid paparazzi to *sit on the floor* with an offhand comment and gesture or two. And he'd been fresh from Afghanistan at the time, and thus hardly at the top of his game.

Yes, Natasha and Tony had a thing or two in common. The most important of which was that you underestimated them at your peril. Hilariously, both of them managed to get people to underestimate them with disconcerting regularity. Phil considered the fallout to be poetic justice.

"Any preferences as to movie?" Phil asked, mentally shaking off his thoughts.

"I was thinking RED." Clint proffered.

Phil glanced at Natasha, who nodded. "I like that one." She said.

Those sorts of movies could be hit or miss with the three of them. Most of the movies that tried to depict alphabet-soup agencies 'seriously' tended to irritate them with the inaccuracies and ineptitude of the 'agents'. The movies like RED, Get Smart, and such - the ones that were deliberately over the top and pointed and laughed at the genre, they got a kick out of. RED in particular got an extra vote of approval for its all too rare positive portrayal of Russian characters. Far too often, Russian characters were depicted as either evil incarnate, incompetent, or both, which never failed to aggravate Natasha even if she understood it. After all, Russian entertainments tended to do the same thing where Americans were involved and probably would for a long time to come, even if the Cold War had ended.

"Jarvis, if you would, please." Phil asked as the three of them loaded plates and settled in. Clint parked himself on a platform with a good view of the television, while Natasha settled on the far end of the couch from Phil.

(_)(_)(_)

Clint had spent the first half of the movie trying not to brood. He'd been doing his best to not brood period for the last two weeks.

In a very weird way, it helped that he had essentially been 'unchanged', despite the mind control. It allowed him to sort of pretend it had been a mission, and his choice. It *really* helped that SHIELD casualties due to his actions had been virtually nonexistent. No one had died, though there had been injuries during the attempted takeover of the helicarrier. It also helped that he'd learned young how to compartmentalize like a fucking pro.

He knew Nat and Phil were worried about him. If he was being honest with himself, he'd even admit they had reason to be. Hilariously, being here helped. Having so many people to watch, to figure out, kept him distracted from his own troubles to a surprising degree. Learning everyone's tics and habits and personalities outside of a file was always a good time. Especially since the files almost always got something wrong somewhere. It was kind of hard to distill a person into words on paper. Plus, as good as SHIELD's various agents were, they were none of them Nat, and could easily misread a target.

But about halfway through the movie, Clint started to feel twitchy. Most snipers sacrificed their awareness of their immediate surroundings in favor of the target in their scopes. They depended on a spotter to watch their backs. Until Phil, Clint had never been able to trust someone like that. It had, ironically, turned him into Hawkeye, because he had been forced to learn to see and pay attention to *everything* while still being able to bullseye his target.

He'd developed a very reliable 'ohshit' alert over the years thanks to having to watch his own back. He always knew when he was being watched, when danger threatened. That awareness was being set off now. Quietly at first, but then more insistently, until Clint was pulled away from the movie. He frowned as he looked around the apartment, trying to figure out where the hell a threat could come from. Half a second later, the penny dropped.

"DOWN!" He bellowed, lunging off the platform he'd been sitting on - there was nothing between him and the window.

Phil and Nat never hesitated, both of them flinging themselves to the ground, trusting him and his trouble radar. Clint was midair, tucking to roll when he hit the ground, when there was a god almighty CRACK from the direction of the window. God bless Tony Stark's paranoid heart - the glass didn't shatter. At least, not from a single bullet. Clint really didn't fancy their chances if a hail of bullets came their way.

It turned out that wasn't going to be much of an issue. The metal panels Clint had seen in action during the invasion slammed down over the window just as Clint landed. He rolled and tumbled to his feet.

"Sniper." Phil said. It was less of a question and more of a statement.

"Yeah. Given the angle, I'd say Trump Tower. It and the Chrysler building are the only buildings with the right height - and the Chrysler's shape makes internal or external sniper nests problematic." Clint said.

There were too few windows on the upper stories of the Chrysler Building, and the curves and pointed top on the upper stories made perching on the outside virtually impossible. Trump Tower, on the other hand, was flat topped with lots of windows.

"Jarvis, are you able to calculate the angle of the bullet's impact?" Phil wanted to know.

"Indeed, Agent Coulson." Jarvis said, then rattled off the relevant figures. "I have informed Sir of this incident as well. Should I inform the rest of the Avengers?"

Phil shook his head. "No, there's nothing most of them can do at the moment." Then he cocked his head. "Unless ... can Loki teleport someone in addition to himself?"

"My guess is top floor." Clint said after thinking it through. "Apartment of someone single if possible, married but with no kids if not. Someone who works night shift, considering the time. Break in when they leave and you've got the place to yourself for a solid six hours or more."

"Mister Friggasson indicates he is at your disposal, Agent Coulson." Jarvis said on the heels of Clint's assessment.

"Tell him to teleport to the top floor. It'll take the sniper longer than this to get out of there. Worse comes to worse, he'll catch them in the elevator." Phil said. "Tell him to bring Thor as backup. Snipers don't usually work alone, and there's no telling whether this one has just a partner or an entire team, given who they were aiming at."

Chapter Text

Loki, Thor, and Soldier

(_)(_)(_)

The first Loki knew of trouble in the Tower was when Jarvis spoke up, pulling him out of the book he'd been reading.

"Mr. Friggasson, an assassination attempt via sniper has been perpetrated, aimed at the floor where Agents Coulson, Barton, and Romanov are currently. The probable location of the sniper has been ascertained and Agent Coulson is inquiring as to whether or not you can take someone with you when you teleport."

"Of course." Loki said. He'd come remarkably close to leaping to his feet the moment 'assassination' had escaped Jarvis' speakers. Though he hadn't quite rushed to such a degree, he'd been on his feet remarkably quickly and had immediately called his armor from the magical pocket where he stored it. Even had Coulson not planned for him to at least act as transport for whoever was being sent to capture the would-be assassin, Loki would have armored up and gone to deal with the offender.

"He asks that you take Thor with you to Trump Tower. It is presumed the sniper is on the top floor. They will have at least one person with them, possibly more. I have alerted Thor and he indicates he is ready when you are. He is in his rooms."

Loki nodded, but didn't waste time verbally acknowledging Jarvis. He just teleported to Thor's floor. Thor, as Jarvis had indicated, was armored up with Mjolnir in hand, scowling ferociously. Loki again didn't bother with words, he just grabbed Thor's arm and teleported them both.

While Thor and Loki had long worked with Sif and the Three, they had also worked rather extensively with just the two of them, both as children and as adults. As a result, they were very, very familiar with each other's capabilities, and used to working together as a team - at least of sorts. Of course, that had been back when Thor had been a bullheaded idiot. These days, he at least tried to use his head. Thus when they landed, Loki got a bit of a pleasant surprise. Thor didn't instantly hare off to pummel someone into mush.

"Brother, can you locate our prey?" Thor asked, almost whispering in an attempt to keep his voice down.

Loki cocked an eyebrow in surprise, but then nodded, spinning out a thread of magic as he tried to pinpoint anyone that was out of place.

He frowned when he only picked up on one person. Where was the sniper's backup? Agent Coulson had specified that there would be someone, and the Agent would not give deliberately erroneous information. Loki's immediate suspicion was that they were magically masked. That was going to make things interesting.

"I believe the sniper is there." Loki said, pointing to one of the apartments. The sniper had not yet left the area - their reaction had been too fast for that. Less than a minute had passed between the shot being taken and Loki and Thor's arrival. No human Loki was aware of could get out of any area that fast - at least, not without leaving ample evidence behind, at any rate. "Their backup, I cannot locate. I think they may have masked themselves magically. I shall attempt to locate them and take them out while you detain the sniper."

Thor nodded and stormed towards the apartment, expression grim and forbidding. Loki watched him go in stunned disbelief. Not so long ago, Thor would have argued, questioning Loki's competence to make such a decision, call the plan cowardly and not befitting of true warriors and/or question Loki's ability to do as he'd claimed. After half a second, he shook off the surprise and got to work trying to find the backup. They'd be here somewhere.

(_)(_)(_)

If the circumstances had been different, Thor would have been both pleased and saddened by the effect his decision to actually listen to Loki and follow his lead when he came up with a plan had on his brother. He would also have mentally cursed Odin up one side and down the other for bringing them to this pass with his manipulations and general assholery (though Thor didn't know 'assholery' as a word yet). He'd also probably curse *himself* up one side and down the other for being an idiot in the past.

That said, the situation was what it was, and Thor had something far more important to concentrate on than mentally kicking Odin and himself around the Nine Realms. Someone had tried to kill one (or more) of the Avengers. That was not something that could go unchallenged. The would-be assassin was about to learn just how much of a bad idea it was to muck about with an Avenger. Or at least, that was Thor's plan, anyway.

Thor didn't know it, but he was in for one hell of a fight against a very challenging opponent. He almost didn't make it through the door of the apartment at all. The only thing that saved him was that as good as the Soldier was, he could not compensate for Asgardian armor. Mostly because no one on Earth had any idea what it was made of or how durable it was, so the Soldier's controllers could not inform him of the best weaponry to get through it. Thus, the bullet that came crashing through the door as Thor approached it smashed into his breastplate directly over his heart, but did not get through his armor.

Thor staggered half a step back - more out of surprise than anything else. Then he glowered and flung Mjolnir through the door, following swiftly behind it.

He almost got clotheslined by a metal arm before he was even clear of the door's debris. The only thing that saved him was that the Soldier didn't know who was coming through the door. He had thus slightly misjudged the height to aim at, hitting Thor right about at clavicle height instead of directly across the throat. As it was, the hit was hard enough to stagger Thor.

Whoever this sniper was, it swiftly became clear that he was ... well, more than just a sniper. He was also a ruthless hand-to-hand combatant. Thor found himself targeted by a withering assault of swift, brutal strikes from the metal arm - which proved to be far stronger than Thor had discovered to be the Midgardian norm thus far. It was also, due to being metal, far more durable than a flesh arm. Disconcertingly, it was proving to be more durable than most Midgardian metals Thor had encountered thus far as well.

As nasty as the attacks from that quarter were, Thor would have managed well enough if that had been the end of it. But it was not. While the metal arm was busy hammering at him, the other hand wielded a knife against him with such skill that only the fact Thor had grown up and sparred with Loki - who had a remarkable skill with knives - saved him from debilitating injuries.

Debilitating even for an Asgardian. Because this sniper was finding the weak points and gaps in Thor's armor with disconcerting ease and efficiency. Thor was forced to allow that knife to find flesh more than once in exchange for it not getting plunged into such a weak spot and doing far more damage than a surface cut on his arm would do.

To make matters worse, Thor had no real way of predicting what this man would do next. Most beings, when they fought, had some sort of 'tell' that gave away what they were going to do next. This man had no physical tells that Thor could discern. If he had facial tells, Thor could not discern them either, because the man was wearing an odd mask that covered almost his entire face, save for a small strip of his forehead.

Thor knew he could end the battle by calling Mjolnir to his hand. He was, however, reluctant to kill the sniper. If he did so, they would lose any information the sniper possessed, and Thor wanted to know why the man had tried to kill an Avenger. He was quite sure the rest of the team would like the answer to that question as well.

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was not a happy camper. He could find no trace, magically or otherwise, of a backup team for the sniper. It engendered far too many questions in Loki's agile and rather paranoid mind. Finally giving up on finding the backup, Loki headed into the apartment to back Thor up as he could hear Thor still wrangling with the would-be assassin.

Honestly, he was surprised no one had shown up wondering what in the world was going on. The fight was not exactly quiet. When Loki walked into the apartment, half the place was trashed thanks to the two men throwing each other around and crashing into things. He made a mental note to see to it that everything was repaired.

Loki was more than a little surprised when he followed the trail of destruction into the kitchen. The fight was ... well, as equal as Loki had seen a fight be thus far, between Thor and anyone of Earth. Even Captain Rogers hadn't managed to keep things this equal, though that was perhaps because he and Thor had been involved in friendly spars and the Captain was thus not going all out the way this sniper was.

Enough was enough. "Thor!"

Thor clearly had a fairly good idea what Loki wanted because he abruptly flung himself aside. The moment Thor was clear, Loki flung a spell at the sniper, flattening him against a wall and securing him, body and limbs, in a web of magic.

"Have a care for the metal arm, brother. It is far stronger than a flesh one." Thor warned.

Loki nodded and adjusted the spell accordingly. Probably a good thing, as the sniper wasn't taking being caught lying down. He was fighting the restraint spell as best he could. He wasn't getting anywhere, of course, but he was definitely giving it a try.

What was disconcerting was that the sniper wasn't making a sound. Not even a grunt of effort, which, given how hard he was fighting the restraints, Loki had been expecting.

"Let's get him back to Stark Tower." Loki said.

(_)(_)(_)

The thing about Bucky was that his world had revolved around Steve Rogers practically since the two of them had been in diapers. His loyalty to Steve was absolute. Hydra had practically had to literally rip Bucky's brain out before he'd even started to fall to their brainwashing and torture because of that. It wasn't until they gave him the news of Steve's 'death' - and kept hammering it in that Steve was dead - that Bucky's resistance finally collapsed. Even then, Hydra shot themselves in the foot, because by wiping Bucky's memory - they prevented him from remembering that Steve was dead. And as long as Bucky didn't remember that little factoid, the shards of the man he'd been prior to their brainwashing kept fighting.

The end result was that the programming lasted - at best - four or five days before it started breaking down. And the best case scenario included zero exposure to anything that would trigger Bucky's memories. Especially any that included or would bring up associations with Steve. Given that one such association was Hydra itself ... there had only been one or two times that the Soldier had actually lasted four or five days before he started acting odd.

Over time, thanks to memory wipes that weren't as thorough as they should have been for whatever reason, other triggers that pulled the shards of Bucky to the surface (or tried to anyway) were added. Black Widows and red haired females of any age but especially children being the biggest.

Of course, this only did the Soldier any good when no one realized he was starting to remember, starting to fight the programming. Which meant that over time he'd slowly gotten more sneaky about his rebellions. Hydra had mistaken the growing lack of violence when the Soldier's programming started breaking down for their programming finally, slowly beginning to stick. It encouraged them to get a little lazy and complacent. Especially the programming teams that didn't work on the Soldier regularly, and thus were less familiar with the shenanigans he got up to as he started fighting the programming. That meant that Hydra was increasingly likely to both let the Soldier go longer between mind wipes and to not wipe him as thoroughly as was really required to get rid of recently acquired memories and suppress the old triggers once more.

And Hydra had sent the Soldier into a situation guaranteed to bring Bucky to the surface in three seconds flat. They'd sent him after Tony Stark - whose last name alone was a trigger for Steve-related memories, and who looked enough like his father to make matters worse. They sent him after Natasha - the Black Widow he'd trained and managed to corrupt to the point where she fought her way free of Hydra control. And worst of all - they sent him after Steve. And the situation was compounded by the fact that the Soldier was now under the authority of a second-string programming team, which meant he wasn't getting re-programmed as thoroughly as would be necessary to suppress the triggers he was being exposed to.

The general plan to deal with the Avengers had not been the Soldier's. He did not plan and strategize. He did as he was ordered and that was the end of it. So the planning had been up to Hydra goons and Yelena. Yelena had recognized the futility of trying to disguise herself and worm her way into the Avengers' lives. Her fellow Widow would spot her in next to no time - certainly long before she could neutralize any of the Avengers.

While sniping some of them was certainly a viable possibility, it was not viable for others. The Wolverine at least was completely immune to death by bullet, and there was no way of knowing for certain if the two aliens were vulnerable to bullets. Shooting at them only to find out they were immune had been deemed unwise in the extreme. Yelena was wise enough to realize that killing only one or two of the Avengers would bring the remaining Avengers down on the assassin like a ton of bricks, making killing them all the harder.

No, killing the Avengers called for an up close and personal touch, so that all of them could be killed at the same time. Which meant getting both herself and the Soldier into striking range. So Yelena had commanded the Soldier to shoot at the Tower, knowing full well that the Avengers would react immediately to capture a would-be assassin. So while the Soldier was doing his part, Yelena was sneaking into the Tower - or well, so she thought.

The Soldier, on the other hand ... well, he took advantage of his orders.

He'd been watching the Avengers for a bit over a week. Despite being re-programmed three times in that period ... well.

It had started innocently enough. With the slow realization that he was, in fact, a human being, not a 'thing'. Next had come the recognition of the fact that he was being treated differently than other people were treated. Then came flickers of memory, of a skinny blonde haired boy and a red-haired girl, not-pain and a sense of belonging.

Even stripped of any other context (at least for now), it was enough. Somewhere, somewhen, the Soldier knew he had once been treated well by someone. That what his controllers did to him *wasn't right*. The fact that the rogue Widow was a member of the Avengers, trusted by them and treated well, inclined the Soldier to think that maybe they would, at worst, be kinder to him than his current controllers.

Unfortunately, by the time he was forced to carry out his orders, he hadn't gotten far enough in breaking down the programming to disobey. Fortunately for him, the aliens proved to be more than a match for him. And they were bringing him to the Tower. It was a chance. It was, more importantly, time away from his controllers, which he knew instinctively could only be a good thing. They couldn't reprogram him if they couldn't get to him, after all.

Little did he know what sort of shitstorm his entrance into the Tower was going to start.

Chapter Text

Jarvis and Natasha

(_)(_)(_)

To say Jarvis was pissed off that someone had tried to kill one or more of his charges was to vastly understate the case. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about the situation other than initiate the emergency lockdown for the Avengers' floors. That and monitor the Tower itself more closely than he normally did.

It was late enough in the day that traffic in and out of the Tower had become minimal, which made that task easier. Traffic never quite stopped - the Tower, like the rest of the city, never truly slept - but at this hour there weren't many people going in and out.

Jarvis took note of the unknown blonde wearing a well-tailored suit and carrying a briefcase who entered the Tower five minutes and thirty two seconds after the lockdown had been initiated. On first examination, the woman seemed ordinary enough. She did not have a Stark Industries placard, but that was hardly unusual, as non-employees were frequent visitors to the Tower for any number of reasons.

Unfortunately, it was not a perfect infiltration attempt. The first alarm went up when she did not stop at the desk for a visitor's pass or to let the guard there know who she was there to meet. Jarvis did a very fast check to make sure she wasn't a new hire at that point. It was possible that she was someone whom he hadn't 'met' (either in person or via reviewing their file) yet and would thus not immediately recognize as belonging in the Tower. She could also be one of the relief personnel who had been given access to the lower floors of the Tower during the initial stages of the cleanup from the aborted invasion. When he didn't come up with any matches in either place, Jarvis brought the defenses that Sir had built into the Tower online and discretely contacted the head of security.

That last proved to have been a bad decision. The woman, upon being approached by security, abruptly went on the offensive. As good as the Tower security personnel were ... they were no match for the woman. Jarvis noted, in the minute or so that it took her to disable the team, that her moves were very reminiscent of Agent Romanov's.

Given Agent Romanov's occupation (and bosses) of record previous to her joining SHIELD, Jarvis would have had no compunctions about resorting to extreme measures if such became necessary. For now, he would attempt lesser measures once. When she slipped into the (thankfully empty) women's bathroom on the main floor, Jarvis locked the door and flooded the room with knockout gas. Unfortunately, she did not immediately succumb, much to Jarvis' surprise. It took far more of the gas to knock her out than it did for the average person. Fortunately, Jarvis was able to control the only two points of egress - the door and the vent - and she was unable to escape before she finally succumbed to the gas.

Once she was finally down, Jarvis sent in another security team, and the woman was trussed up, as the saying went, like a turkey, and brought to a holding cell down in the basement. No fools they, they performed a thorough strip search of the woman before putting her in a beige one-piece jumpsuit and then putting her in the cell. Jarvis armed all the containment measures in the cell - a step that would normally be unnecessary, as the cell was proof against most detainees. Given Agent Romanov's skills, and this woman's resistance to the knockout gas, Jarvis was taking no chances whatever. Any attempt to break out would see her gassed and/or tased into unconsciousness. If she got particularly difficult before Sir or one of the other Avengers could deal with her, Jarvis had ... more permanent ... methods of taking care of the problem at his disposal.

Unfortunately, at that point, Thor and Loki had returned with the *other* would-be assassin, and it swiftly became clear to Jarvis that Sir and the other Avengers would not be dealing with the woman for some time. Very likely not until morning, if then.

(_)(_)(_)

Natasha might not quite have been in Clint and Steve's leagues when it came to math, but she wasn't far behind them. So it didn't take her long to translate the numbers Jarvis gave them on the bullet's trajectory and realize the assassin had been aiming for her. It was hardly the first time in her long life that someone had tried to take her out, so she wasn't even really upset about it. The only question was who was behind this attempt.

It didn't take long for the rest of the Avengers to show up on Phil's floor. Tony looked ... rather more murderous than Natasha had expected him to be. The man may have made a place for them in his 'home', but it did not immediately follow that he was emotionally attached enough to them to take an assassination attempt on one of them personally. Bruce had a very fixed expression of calm on his face. Natasha strongly suspected he was working to not transform. The rest of the Avengers were all varying shades of pissed off or worried.

About fifteen minutes after the alarm had been raised, Loki and Thor teleported into the room with them. A man floated a foot off the floor between them, wrapped in some sort of energy that shimmered green and gold. Natasha assumed it was a visual manifestation of Loki's magic.

That, however, was secondary to the identity of the would-be assassin. Natasha cursed briefly, if virulently, in Russian. Phil and Clint were only seconds behind her as the identity of the assassin registered with them, though their reactions were far more contained. Phil's expression barely flickered, but from him a brief frown was ... not a good thing. Clint's expression morphed to a level of murderous that surpassed Tony's, though he didn't say a thing.

"Ok." Tony said. "From that reaction, this is worse than I am assuming it is. Which, given we're dealing with an assassination attempt ... "

"Yes." Natasha said. "His presence means my old ... trainers ... for lack of a better term have decided how they are going to react to us, and the invasion. I would not have been the only target. Just the first. But this is complicated. He is ... " Natasha hesitated for a moment.

Part of her did not want to explain, even a little. Not even Clint or Phil knew everything, though she'd trusted both of them with quite a lot more than she'd ever trusted anyone else with. That's how they'd recognized the assassin. But she was going to have to explain, at least in part. Otherwise ... well.

"After Steven, after the war, Russia made its own attempts at super soldiers. They approached this in two parts. They wanted superior infiltrators - capable of becoming whoever was required in order to gather intel and assassinate targets that could not be eliminated by more traditional means. From that effort came myself and several other girls. All of us bore the code name of Black Widow." Natasha told them.

She could tell, by the looks on most everyone's faces, that they were filling in the blanks she was leaving in the story and not liking it much.

"We were little more than dogs, to them. Perhaps less. We were allowed no sense of self, no independence. We did not even realize what they were doing was wrong. Then, when I was ten - or at least they said I was ten - I would not trust those people if they told me the sky was blue, now. They brought him in to train us." Natasha motioned to the assassin.

"That is when I began to realize that what they were doing was wrong. Because as badly as they treated us - they treated him worse. They did not even treat him like he was a living being. He was nothing but a gun to be maintained to them. They hardly spoke to him, and did not even afford him so much as a code name amongst themselves. If they had to refer to him, it was 'the Asset'." Natasha sighed.

"After our training with him was completed, he disappeared again. I encountered him again a few years later, once I was fully trained. We were sent on a mission together. That was when I discovered just how badly he was treated, even compared to myself and my fellow Widows. A few days into our mission, he began to change. To become erratic and evince something that approached a personality, if a very beaten-down one. The next day, we were called back to base. He disappeared for a few hours, and when he returned, he was once more the mindless automaton."

"So they were, what? Brainwashing him somehow?" Tony asked, sounding pissed. The rest of the Avengers and their various hangers-on weren't any better. Loki had joined Clint in wearing a seriously murderous expression, and Bruce was looking a touch green around the gills in a Hulk-out imminent way.

"Yes." Natasha said. "I never discovered how precisely they were doing it. None of the Widows were ever permitted into the areas where he was kept."

"Which means he's not doing any of this of his own free will." Steve said.

That, rather understandably, changed the equation they were dealing with. If this guy had been trying to kill them of his own free will, well, there was really only one possible response to that.

"Comes the next question - can he become a functional person, or do we just put the poor bastard out of his misery?" Tony asked.

"Tony!" Steve yelped, sounding outraged and looking completely horrified.

Sometimes, Steve baffled Natasha because his moral compass was about a hundred and eighty degrees removed from her own. In an almost humorous way, it reminded her of her early days dealing with Clint and Phil. Back then, even their rather gray morals had seemed completely alien to Natasha, as she'd had basically none at the time.

Tony didn't back down, and barreled ahead before Steve could start to rant. "Steve, the guy's been getting his brain scooped out and re-arranged since the forties. There's a damn good chance he won't ever be able to function as anything other than what they've made him. And there's an about equal chance that even if we *can* get him to function, he'll be so horrified by what he's been forced to do for so many years he'll commit suicide. If that's the case, putting him down might end up being the kindest thing we can do."

"Tony is right." Natasha said. "I was fairly young when I escaped from the clutches of my controllers, and I am *still* coming to terms with what they made of me. He has been under their control for nearly seventy years."

"He still deserves a chance." Steve said, a stubborn look on his face.

"Yeah, but we need to be ready for the worst case, Steve." Tony said.

Loki spoke up at that point. "Mother might be able to do something for him, both to reclaim the man he was, and to help him deal with what he has been forced to do."

"Aye." Thor agreed.

That got them all looking at the pair curiously.

"I cannot be certain." Loki said. "It depends upon how this brainwashing was accomplished, and what, if anything remains of the person he was before he was turned into a weapon. That he was fighting the brainwashing some decade plus after he'd been captured and brainwashed is actually a good sign. It means that, at least at that point, there was something left of who he had been that was fighting what he'd been turned into. If that spark remains, his chances - and mother's ability to help him - will be much higher."

Steve looked pleased. "Well then, with that sort of option." Then he shot Natasha a look. "Do you have any idea who he was?"

Natasha shook her head. "No." She said. "I strongly suspect he was not originally Russian, but other than that, nothing. He always had that mask on when in the presence of anyone but his own trainers, and rarely spoke outside of mission-relevant matters - and even then he was as monosyllabic as was practical."

"So, first thing's first, take off the mask and let Jarvis get a look at his face." Tony said. "We might be able to track down who he was. Especially since he was grabbed during the war. He was probably a soldier, which means there'd be a record of him *somewhere* that Jarvis can get hold of. You got a good hold on him, Loki-dokes? I don't fancy getting my face smashed in."

Loki gave a nod. "He will not slip my grasp." He assured Tony.

Tony walked over to the man, then glowered briefly at Loki, because Tony wasn't in his suit and the guy (who was nearly as tall as Steve to start with) was a good foot off the floor, which meant his head was far enough over Tony's head to make removing the mask problematic. Loki smirked, but lowered the man until he was standing on the ground. Tony flipped him off with a grin, then turned his attention to the mask. It took him a moment to figure out how the thing came off, but then he got it worked out and undid the clasps. Roughly a second after the mask was off the guy's face, all hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

Steve

(_)(_)(_)

Steve hadn't liked what Tony had suggested one little bit, but he was man enough to admit that Tony maybe had a point - that if this poor guy couldn't ever be something other than a mindless puppet, killing him might actually be the kindest thing they could do for him. It just sort of seemed a little callous to him to be saying it right in front of the guy.

Then the mask came off, and Steve's ... everything ... froze. Again.

It was Phil who reacted first - a low, quiet, and, for this era, mild "Shit." escaping him as his eyebrows headed for the ceiling. Natasha, Clint, and Tony were all right behind him. There would come a day - maybe in a few decades - when Steve would find it funny that Tony's reaction was stunned silence. As much as Tony talked, Steve had already begun to wonder if he was ever quiet. Natasha cursed in Russian again (at least Steve assumed it was a curse), and Clint muttered something under his breath that Steve couldn't hear.

The only reason Steve noticed any of that was because even when things got horribly bad, he'd never entirely shut down - not before the serum and for damn sure not after. It was dangerous to check out entirely. When he'd been a shrimp, there had always been the danger of bullies, or freezing to death in winter, or such things. After, well - he'd been in a war. Most of him, though, was acting like he was back in the ice. Frozen dead still, because ...

Because he absolutely could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. It just ... no. He'd wished so often to see a familiar face since he woke up. This had to be his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be, no matter how badly he wanted to see a familiar face. Especially this face.

But Phil - who had flat out admitted he was a fan of 'Captain America' was staring at the guy with a look of growing horror and anger. Clint and Natasha, who had probably heard stories from Phil at the very least, were alternating between staring at the guy and staring at Steve. While Natasha looked as blank as she usually did, Clint looked like he couldn't decide whether to be horrified or concerned.

Unfortunately, denial had never really been Steve's thing, when presented with an incontrovertible fact. And the fact was that Steve found himself staring at Bucky. A Bucky whose eyes were dead and blank of anything even remotely resembling recognition. The reality of the situation hit Steve with all the force of Hulk punching his pre-serum self at full force. Steve staggered back a couple steps and wheezed like he was having an asthma attack. The world went a little gray around the edges as the grief, horror, and shock hit him all at once.

He was dimly aware of the sudden babble of noise as the others reacted to his distress. He was, however, too far gone at the moment to even try to pull himself together. Then Thor was there, expression deeply concerned, and guiding Steve to a wall. Steve leaned drunkenly against the wall for a bit, trying to get his body and mind back under control.

Unfortunately, control meant ... well, not being in shock anymore. Which meant something else would take the place of the shock. Given the situation, there was really only one possibility for what would take its place.

Rage.

The thing about Steve was that aside from an unassailable set of morals, he'd always had a bit of a temper. There was a reason he'd gotten into so many fights despite being so little and sickly. There were other ways to deal with bullies, after all. He just hadn't bothered with them for the most part. It was one of a million things that had been forgotten by the world at large after he went down in the ice and got canonized.

The last time Bucky had been in enemy hands, Steve had gone behind enemy lines and beat the living hell out of the people who'd taken him and hurt him. The last time he'd gotten angry, he'd tried his level best to burn Hydra to the ground and salt the ashes.

This? This was both. Bucky hurt. Hurt in ways Steve couldn't even comprehend and was a little afraid to find out about. And as the shock faded, the anger built, until Steve could barely see straight. Only this time, Steve didn't have a target. That got the tactician in him working again, and he surged up away from the wall, gaze locked on Natasha.

He didn't even notice when practically everyone in the room flinched back from the sudden movement, even Thor, though in his case it was more surprise than fear. But then, he didn't realize how seriously pissed off his expression was and how much of an 'I want to kill someone right now' vibe he was giving off, and how disconcerting it was for everyone to see that in a man who was generally the soul of civility and kindness.

Of course, Steve had never really understood - had never had the *time* to understand - just how people perceived him post-USO tours. Even as a performing monkey, he'd had a presence, a charisma people responded to. But once he took his rightful place in the war, well. There was a reason such a diverse group of individuals had been willing to follow him, and it hadn't had much to do with him rescuing them. They were grateful for that, make no mistake, but that wasn't enough to get trained soldiers to follow and obey someone who didn't have the first clue how to lead troops into battle, and had to learn as he went.

That Steve had *kept* the Commandos together, and working together pretty seamlessly, had been another honking great clue, but Steve had never picked up on it. Mostly because he was open minded, and just saw them as his team, and of course they'd work together to take Hydra down. It took a lot more than an open mind though to have a unit that included men from different countries, blacks (in a time when, at least in America, blacks served in units separate from whites), and 'worse', a Nisei - that is, a Japanese - American soldier. The group should have fallen apart, but they stayed together - even after his 'death'.

Put bluntly, Steve could pack a whallop even standing perfectly still under the right circumstances. But because he'd been so off his game since he woke up, no one had really seen him in that mode except for during the battle, and everyone had been *expecting* that.

"I want names." Steve snarled. "Places. Dates. Everything you know about the people that did this." One hand waved half-wildly at Bucky. "Everything you think you know, everything you suspect, everything you've heard rumor of. Every. Thing." The last two words, he snapped out emphatically.

Natasha just nodded, accepting the order.

No one needed to ask what Steve was going to do with that information once he had it. It was kind of written all over his face, and even he knew it. There was a lot of blood, pain, and death in the futures of anyone he managed to catch up with that had any part in hurting Bucky. It wasn't even all going to come from Steve, either, though he hadn't realized that quite yet.

Before Steve could swivel his attention their way, Loki said. "I will speak with mother, once we have ... " He hesitated half a moment. "Bucky?" It came out as a question, like he was making sure he had heard the name correctly.

Which made Steve blink, because he didn't remember saying Bucky's name. Though someone might have filled Loki and Thor in while Steve hadn't been paying attention. Also, he could have said Bucky's name without realizing it at some point. He nodded, though, to let Loki know he'd gotten it right.

"Bucky." Loki said more firmly. "settled somewhere he can't get out of."

"We can put him in the quarantine lab." Tony offered. "That place is armored to hell and gone to keep any explosions from wrecking the Tower, so he won't be able to punch his way out, even with that arm. And getting the equipment that's in there out will be easy. It's all on wheels. Better still, because it's the quarantine lab, it's got more sensors than anywhere else save the infirmary. Jarvis will be able to monitor him very closely. It also has a bathroom and a place to sleep, since it might not be wise to leave the lab until whatever is in there is dealt with."

Then Tony frowned at Bucky. "And I'll start working on another arm for him. Whatever else happens with him, I am not willing to trust an arm made by the sorts of people that would do this." He waved at Bucky much the way Steve had. "So the sooner we get that thing off him and replace it with something I *know* won't try to kill us all of its own volition or whatever, the better."

Their calm acceptance was helping Steve to rein in his anger somewhat. Somewhat. Which basically meant that he still wanted to rip someone's spine out through their mouth right about now, but he wasn't looking and acting like aggression incarnate as much anymore.

Which, really, was even worse than him flailing all over. He'd always been at his worst when his anger went all cold and calculated. When he had *time* to plan his revenge for whatever assholery some bully had committed.

"All right. Let's get moving." Steve said.

Thor left with Tony, apparently to assist in moving everything, which would take a little bit. Steve was so agitated it didn't take long for him to start pacing. It really would have been better if he could go kill a few (dozen) heavy bags, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Bucky out of his sight *ever again*.

He blinked when Natasha crossed the room for no apparent purpose. It wasn't the beginning of her pacing (which, as little as Steve knew her, he knew she didn't pace). When she stopped, she looked over at Steve.

"He's tracking you." She said quietly. "And only you. I though he was just staring straight ahead at first, ignoring his 'captors' like we were trained to do. But I think he was staring at you. He's definitely watching you now. He didn't pay any attention at all to anyone else who's moved since he was brought in here. Not even me, and given I was his target ... "

Steve fought the urge to turn instantly, and instead just kept pacing for a little bit, watching Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Natasha was right. Bucky was tracking his movements. There was still no recognition at all in his eyes, but Steve decided to take the fact Bucky was interested in him as a good sign. Sure, he could be interested in Steve because Steve was next on his 'kill list', but as Natasha had pointed out, she was definitely on his 'kill list', and he was completely ignoring her.

Bucky was still in there somewhere. Natasha had said he'd been fighting whatever had been done to him, back when she'd known him. Granted, it sounded like that was a while ago, but ... Bucky was still in there. They could bring him back. Steve completely refused to entertain any other possibility. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Bucky would be the Bucky he'd always known - there was no way he could be, not with everything that had been done to him. Steve would be more than happy to settle for Bucky remembering him and still being his best friend. All other changes, Steve could and would handle.

"I wish I had my old uniform." Steve said.

Natasha cocked her head slightly at him. It didn't take much to know she was wanting to know what he was on about.

"He might recognize me in it. Right now, I'm just some big blonde guy. He only knew me this size for a few years, compared to twenty-some of me being a skinny shrimp. Since I can't exactly go back to the skinny shrimp look, the uniform is probably the best way to trigger memories of me. The new one is similar, but it's not close enough to work, I don't think."

"I imagine the Smithsonian would be thrilled to return your uniform to you." Natasha offered. "Especially if Tony works his particular sort of charm. There's nothing we can do about it tonight, though."

Steve nodded. A few minutes later, Tony and Thor returned, and all of them trooped down to the quarantine lab. Once they'd gotten Bucky inside and closed the door, Loki released him, and they all retreated to a place where they could watch what Bucky did next on a screen Tony brought up. Bucky didn't move except to regain his balance. His feet secure under him once more, he more or less froze in place, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah. This? Is going to be a problem, if he just stands there. Will he?" Tony turned to Natasha.

"I don't know." Natasha admitted. "I do know that getting him to eat and care for himself is going to take some doing. Our ... controllers ... did exactly that. Controlled everything they could. Including what, when, and how much we ate, slept, everything. We were allowed little to no independence, and I cannot imagine it being any better for him. Also, whatever you do, don't speak to him in Russian, if you know the language. It's entirely possible he has trigger words buried in his mind, and we really don't want to stumble across those if we can avoid it."

Steve had a feeling that she'd had one or two of those, and that they'd been discovered the hard way, from her tone as she said that.

"Tony, before you bury yourself making him a new arm, could you see if you could get my old uniform returned to me?" Steve asked.

Tony cocked his head at Steve, then glanced at the screen where Bucky was standing where he'd been put. "Oh! Yeah, sure, no problem!" He said.

Before they could break up, Jarvis spoke up.

"Sir, there is another matter that needs dealing with at present. While the Avengers were dealing with Mr. Barnes, an unknown female attempted to infiltrate the building. She incapacitated the group of security personnel that attempted to intercept her using moves and methods virtually identical to those employed by Agent Romanov. Further, when I attempted to gas her when she entered the women's lavatory on the lobby level, it took her far longer than the norm to succumb. The woman has since been moved to the most secure cell on the basement level."

Tony cursed, then pointed at Coulson. "Bet you he." The finger swiveled to indicate Bucky. "Was a distraction. Damn good thing no one knows what Jarvis is capable of until it's way the hell too late. Right. We'll go deal with the new femme fatale in a minute, Jarvis."

"I'm coming with you." Natasha said. "She's probably a Widow. Especially given that Barnes was deployed. I can ID her and let you know just how much bad news she is. Some of them were barely worth the bother, at least for the purposes we were put to, anyway. A few of us, though, were ... well, a cut above the rest."

"And I'm guessing you were the biggest badass of the lot." Tony said.

Natasha just smirked as the two of them headed for the elevator.

Steve stayed put. Part of him wanted to be in the lab with Bucky, but he understood that it was not exactly the smartest idea. Bucky wasn't Bucky right now, and God alone knew what sort of hell he'd been through, or how he'd react to Steve now that he could move and fight again. Steve closed his eyes and gently thumped his head against the wall. God. The sooner he had someone he could beat to a bloody pulp, the better.

Chapter Text

Bruce

(_)(_)(_)

Bruce had been somewhat reluctant to join the exodus to the Agents' floor. Not because he didn't care for them, but because the rather understandably fraught atmosphere would not be good for his sense of calm. Then again, if he was going to trust Hulk to not smash the instant he showed up, he was going to have to start somewhere. Starting with calling him by his name, rather than 'the other guy'. Hulk had been exposed to these people, none of whom had attacked him, which would reduce the likelihood of him attacking them. If worst came to worst, they would all be able to evade him, or in Tony's case, possibly be able to talk him down. Their chances were better than anyone save Betty's if Hulk did break loose of his control. So he went downstairs.

At first, it was less of a challenge than he'd expected it to be. The Agents themselves were almost eerily calm about the whole thing, which was somewhat dampening the others' reactions to the threat. Which meant that while they looked rather pissed off, no one was doing more than *looking* pissed. That all changed when Loki and Thor returned, would-be assassin in tow.

The Agents' reaction to the sight of the assassin was disturbing. Clearly, they recognized him, which couldn't possibly be good news. That assumption was born out quickly enough. The information Natasha imparted made his blood run cold and, from the back of his mind, Hulk rumble in disquiet at their own unfortunate memories. Bruce couldn't quite stop himself from shooting the man a sympathetic look, even as he began to contemplate possible ways of de-programming him. He made a mental note to inquire of Loki later just what sorts of things Frigga was capable of. Not that he would necessarily answer, of course, but Bruce still wanted to ask. Then the mask came off and ... well, things got really interesting really fast.

It was kind of like watching dominoes fall. Agent Coulson went down first, which was hardly surprising given his interest in Captain America. Natasha, Clint, and Tony were right behind him. To his shame, despite his knowledge of Steve through his interest in the serum, it took Bruce a few seconds to recognize what he was seeing. Remy figured it out next, with a soft "Merde."

Before Bruce could even figure out how he personally felt about the discovery that James Barnes had been captured and twisted into ... well, this ... by some people that made the General look like a fluffy bunny, it became very clear that Steve knew who he was looking at. Actually, it had been the frozen-stock-still reaction that had clued Bruce in. Steve had no reason to react in such a way if it wasn't someone he knew or knew of. Bruce had no doubt that Steve would be outraged on the behalf of anyone that had been so horribly used, but he wouldn't freeze up worse than a deer caught in headlights. Right about the time Remy cussed, Steve's shock wore off.

It was fundamentally *wrong* for Steve, of all people, to look so horrified, grief-stricken, and ... wounded. The agonized wheeze and backwards stumble was even worse. Literally everyone in the room reacted to Steve's distress except for Barnes and Loki. About half of them lunged towards Steve in an ill-considered bid to keep him from collapsing to the floor, considering most of them weren't strong enough to keep Steve on his feet if his legs collapsed out from under him like they were threatening to. Everyone yelled his name in concern.

Thankfully, one of the people strong enough to actually hold Steve up got to him before anyone else did. Thor propped Steve up against a wall. Bruce glanced around for a blanket. If Steve stayed shocky for any length of time they'd need one, even with how his body worked. Bruce had spotted a couch throw that would suffice and was about to go grab it when the atmosphere in the room almost visibly changed. In a way that made his hackles rise and Hulk rumble uneasily again in the back of his mind.

He returned his attention to the group just in time to see Steve's expression morph. Instinctively, he and almost everyone else in the room save Barnes, who couldn't move, and Loki, who was probably concentrating on keeping Barnes contained enough he wasn't paying much attention to anything else, at least flinched. Most of them actually took at least one step back away from Steve. This despite the fact that literally everyone in the room could at the very least hold Steve off in a full-on fight. Steve was, after all, only at the peak of human capabilities physically. Most of the people in the room exceeded that level or had enough training or technology to meet Steve head-on.

Not that Bruce was exactly blaming anyone for backing away from Steve, because holy shit. As fundamentally wrong as it was to see Steve so shattered, it was also fundamentally wrong to see him completely, totally, utterly, murderously enraged. It was also more than a little frightening. Bruce didn't know about anyone else, but he'd had no idea that Steve was even capable of this level of rage. Bruce had no doubts whatsoever that if the persons responsible for Barnes' condition had appeared in the room in that moment, they would have been dead by Steve's hand before any of the rest of them could react.

What was weird for Bruce was that Hulk ... didn't break out in response to the threat. Bruce would have thought that he would have. It wasn't like there had been a dearth of dangerous men in Bruce's life, so Hulk *should* have responded to an apparent threat from yet another hostile male. Instead, Hulk seemed to lose interest, which confused Bruce to no end.

Unless Hulk could tell the rage wasn't aimed at Bruce? It was possible. As Bruce had begun to learn and accept Hulk could learn and plan and just 'think' in general. So him realizing a seriously pissed off person in his ... in their ... vicinity wasn't a threat was a possibility.

That aside, Bruce had to give Natasha full marks for courage for only flinching when Steve's attention locked onto her. Bruce seriously doubted anyone else in the room would have been so sanguine, even Thor. Bruce had to stomp on the temptation, mild as it had been, to get between the two. That would have just gotten entirely too messy for words, even if Hulk didn't show up. When it was decided where to stash Barnes until they could deal with the threat he (unwillingly) presented, Bruce slipped out of the room and headed back to his floor via the stairs.

"Bruce!" Betty greeted him the moment he arrived. "So what's going on?"

"Thor and Loki caught the would-be assassin." Bruce told her. "Betty ... it's Barnes. Steve's best friend."

Betty went white-faced in horror, one hand flying up to her mouth. "Oh. Oh no. How is he?"

Bruce didn't mistake who she was talking about. "About as well as you'd expect, which is to say 'so very not good'." He told her. "Turns out, Barnes was found by the folks who got their claws into Natasha. He trained her, worked with her. She never knew who he was because he always wore a black mask that covered most of his face. To be honest, it looks like a cross between Darth Vader's helmet and a *muzzle*. It's more than a little horrifying in and of itself. Anyway, they're moving him to the quarantine lab, because it's armored and pretty self contained since it has a bathroom and somewhere comfortable to sleep. I figured we could spare a blanket or two, give him something that doesn't look like it came out of an industrial combine or a jail."

While Bruce had been unable to retain any belongings between Hulk-outs, with it having been a year since the Culver incident, he'd actually managed to collect a few things by the time Natasha had come looking for him. Among them a hand-made blanket. Betty, whose taste was nearly as eclectic as his, had several more.

"Of course." Betty said, then hurried off to grab the blankets. "Should I contact Leonard? Even if Barnes' condition is beyond his skills, he'd know who might be able to help."

"That ... might be a good idea." Bruce admitted. "Loki is going to talk to Frigga, to see if there's anything she can do, but it would be good to have someone on our end, just in case she can't do anything - or what she can do doesn't extend to dealing with the emotional damage left behind by what Barnes has been through. And Steve's going to need someone himself, before this is all said and done."

Betty nodded as she handed a blanket to him and they both headed up the stairs. "I'll call him first thing in the morning." She promised.

Thanks to using the stairs, the two of them got there right about the same time as Loki, Thor, Steve and Barnes. Bruce got one good look at Steve's face and mentally whistled. He, better than anyone else in their group, knew *exactly* what tightly controlled rage looked like. It was rather blatantly obvious to Bruce that Steve had clamped down on his rage and started thinking.

That boded ill for Barnes' tormentors. Not that this mess was ever going to end well for them. Not with so many people so very willing to kick their asses to hell and gone. But this once, with these circumstances, Bruce had a suspicion that Steve would do more damage than even the Hulk at his worst could do. Mostly because Hulk wasn't a master tactician, and didn't have a truly personal stake in the situation the way he would if it was Betty on the line.

The rest of the group, even if they couldn't read Steve's face, were definitely picking up on his body language and giving him a wide, wary berth because of it. Right about now, Steve looked bigger and more imposing than Thor. Given that Thor did 'big and imposing' without even trying, much less when he was upset, that was saying something. He also, despite having his rage on a leash, still looked like he dearly wanted to hit something.

Bruce was half tempted to drag Steve somewhere that he could Hulk out and let Steve take it out on Hulk. It wasn't like Hulk would really feel it. Unfortunately, Bruce wasn't anywhere near ready to trust Hulk to not react instinctively if someone was attacking him.

Bruce let Betty slip into the lab with the blankets she had carried and one of his, but he kept one himself. He intended to keep an eye on Steve. Right now, Steve was seriously pissed, and that was cancelling out everything else. But at some point, the rest was going to come crashing back in. Bruce did not intend for Steve to be alone when it did. He was going to need all the help he could get himself to deal with this. And there were physical concerns as well.

Even Steve could succumb to shock, especially if he got hit with it again while alone. Bruce wasn't sure just how good Jarvis was at recognizing medical conditions. Tony had probably programmed him to recognize severe heart and breathing issues, excessive bleeding and things of that nature. Things that were or could be immediately lethal. But beyond that, Bruce wasn't sure. It wasn't something that had come up in their discussions. Bruce would have to rectify that later.

Seeing Barnes just stand there after he was released was heartbreaking. Not that Bruce got much time to contemplate that, because Jarvis chimed in, letting them know he had someone in a cell in the basement. Bruce eyed Steve, half expecting him to demand to be the one to interrogate the woman. Instead, Steve planted himself just outside the lab, clearly intending not to move.

Before the others could traipse off to deal with the second intruder (whom Bruce did not envy *at all*) Bruce frowned slightly. "Hang on a second. Add another item to our list of things to do, Tony. Call Cecelia. Right away. If he's not going to feed himself, we're going to have to resort to IV's. Without knowing how long he's been without food or water, I'm not comfortable let him go without even until morning."

And while Bruce *could* insert an IV in an emergency, he wasn't a licensed physician or surgeon, so he'd feel better letting Cecelia do that sort of thing. It was one thing to do what he could to combat fevers and such in poverty-stricken hovels, where the residents couldn't afford an actual doctor. Doing so here was unnecessary. That said, he was present and knew enough to know going without food and water - water especially - for any kind of time was not good, and could remind them to call in the actual doctor.

"Good point." Tony said. "Jarvis?"

"Immediately, Sir." Jarvis said. A few moments later, he spoke up again. "Dr. Reyes is en route. She asks, since the patient is potentially hostile, that Loki remain to restrain him so that medical intervention can be performed with minimal risks to herself."

"Of course." Loki agreed.

The rest of the team trooped off to go deal with the would-be infiltrator while Bruce, Loki, and Steve stayed to wait for Cecelia. Bruce *really* didn't envy the woman.

Cecelia arrived a few minutes after the rest of the team left, carting several containers of gear. "I brought more than the IV equipment, just in case I needed it. If the bastards that had him were willing to wipe his mind, there's no telling what else they're willing to do to him."

She plunked the containers down outside the lab door and took a look at the screen they were using to keep an eye on Barnes. "He hasn't moved?"

"Not so much as a muscle, as far as I've seen." Bruce told her.

Cecelia scowled. "Not that there will be much left of them by the time Steve gets through with them, much left the rest of you, but ... either save a bit for me so I can give them a kick or do it for me?"

Bruce wasn't the only one to give an amused snort. Even Steve did.

"All right, let's get this dealt with." Cecelia said.

Loki immediately re-restrained Barnes with his magic, and all of them followed Cecelia into the room. Cecelia worked quickly and efficiently (unsurprising, given her specialty) as she assessed Barnes.

"Well." She said when she finished. "You made a good call, Bruce. He's definitely dehydrated. Not badly, but that can and will escalate quickly. For a miracle, there is no other current damage. Loki ... I don't know how much this is taking out of you?" She asked, waving at the green-gold restraint field.

"Very little." Loki told her. "I can hold him for quite some time before I become tired."

"Ok, then an IV won't be a problem." Cecelia said. "I wouldn't risk it if you couldn't hold him. He might yank it out and/or hurt himself somehow."

Cecelia had the IV drip in place in short order, and they all retreated once more, as Loki seemed to be able to hold the restraint even through the door.

Chapter Text

Loki and Frigga

(_)(_)(_)

Loki only had to hold Barnes in place for about an hour while he was rehydrated via the IV. He remained for a short time after that, to make sure his skills would not be required to handle Barnes for some reason, then made good his escape.

He spent the scant hours remaining until dawn very quietly freaking out. As horrible, horrifying, and overall traumatizing as his time at Thanos' hands had been ... well, it had only lasted a year, and he had gotten free, thanks to Thor (and the other Avengers). Barnes had not been so lucky, and the state Barnes was in now was a damn good look at what Loki would have become if Thanos had gotten his way.

The poor man seemed to have no will of his own. Loki honestly wondered whether or not the man would breathe, if it was not an automatic process his body performed without conscious thought. The only sign of life from Barnes had been when Steve was in the room. Even then, it was limited to Barnes' eyes tracking Steve, with no recognition whatever in his eyes or expression. Barnes had not moved anything other than his eyes when Loki hadn't been restraining him.

It was enough to give Loki, as the humans said, 'the willies' - a good enough expression for the thoroughly discomfited state of mind he was in right now. Which was not a good state of mind to be traveling the 'secret' paths on.

Oh, Loki knew he could have called Heimdall and been in Asgard in a trice. Loki was, however, unwilling to trust that Heimdall would do his job.

During his recital of events when he, Thor and the Avengers had come to Asgard, Loki had not spoken of (those acts that he knew of) Sif, the Three, and Heimdall's sedition and would-be treason. There was but one reason for that. The fact that he had, in fact, been doing things that ... would not have ended well for Asgard.

That fact was all that was sparing the five's lives. There would come a day - when Loki was more removed from events, when he had come to terms with all that had happened and all he had discovered - that there would be an accounting amongst them of what they had done.

Asgard, under Odin, had been the worst sort of absolute monarchy. Odin's word was law, and unless your name was Thor (and apparently Heimdall), questioning or challenging Odin's word tended to end in, at best, an extended jail sentence and more frequently in death. Whoever sat the throne during Odin's Sleeps was acting as Regent only, despite having, for that brief period, the full power of the King. They would answer, in full, to Odin (who maintained watch over all that was said and done in his sleep) when he woke.

That had not exactly been a concern when he and Thor had been children and Frigga had taken the throne during Odin's sleeps. It probably wouldn't have been too much a problem if it had been Thor on the throne, either. Loki had not been fool enough to think Odin would have been so magnanimous if he was ever on that throne for whatever reason.

Sif and the Three had lost little time in demanding Thor's return. With Gungnir in hand, Loki *could* have brought him back and restored his powers. That said, it would have been a tossup as to whether or not, when he woke, Odin would have approved or not. And that disregarded the fact that Thor desperately needed to learn a few lessons, and would not do so, if he was brought back to Asgard almost before he'd gotten any of Midgard's dust on his boots.

Yes, allowing the Frost Giants into Asgard had been both stupid and wrong. The fact remained that Loki would never have had to do so if either Thor had possessed a shred of humility or the ability to think before he acts, or Odin had been willing to listen to Frigga (Loki had known better than to try) when she attempted to tell Odin that Thor was not ready for the throne even in the lesser role of King Regent. *Something* had needed to be done to open Odin's eyes or get Thor thinking. Loki still shuddered to think of the mess Thor would have made of things if he'd been put on the throne as planned.

Sif and the Three had not cared a jot that Thor's actions had threatened to re-start a war. Neither they nor Heimdall had cared that Loki could have been attempting to smooth ruffled feathers and regain a more peaceful footing with the Frost Giants. No, it had been all about Thor. Again. At least for Sif and the Three.

Heimdall had acted against him simply because he didn't like it that he could not see what Loki was doing. Which was ... unconscionable. Not one of them had had proof of any 'wrongdoing'. Worse, they all seemed to forget, because it was Loki, that technically, he had not done a single wrong thing, at least until he'd turned the Bifrost on Jotunheim. He had been King Regent. While the Regent ultimately ended up answering to Odin for their actions, they operated under the same rules that Odin did. Which is to say that their word was law, and technically speaking they could do no wrong.

So yes, the only reason Loki hadn't spoken of their treachery and gotten the lot of them killed was because he *had* been less than sane and doing things that needed to be stopped. For that reason and that reason alone he was willing to spare their lives. Someday, however, he was going to call each and every one of them to account for it.

Loki shook such dark and unsettling thoughts off with a tremendous effort, and worked to calm down. Once he was sure he had, he glanced up.

"Jarvis, if you would inform Tony that I have left to go speak to mother?"

"Of course, Mr. Friggasson." Jarvis said immediately.

Loki teleported out of the Tower, and headed for the nearest 'safe' path that led to Asgard.

It had been Frigga, of course, who had first taught Loki about the secret paths. She had discovered, in her youth, a number of the larger, safer paths between several of the Realms. To this day, she used one such path to visit her family on Vanaheim. That path had even been Loki's first exposure to the paths. Frigga, however, had never possessed Loki's adventurous spirit.

Oh, he'd never liked Thor's version of adventure. Largely because it invariably involved killing mass numbers of beings or animals and risking his own death and the deaths of his compatriots. But Loki had adored exploring and investigating mysteries nearly as much as he adored reading. Such adventures, after all, accumulated knowledge, and Loki enjoyed learning.

Introduced to those paths, Loki had been quick to look for more. And he'd found them. Many of them were unusable for a variety of reasons, but he'd found at least two passable paths to every Realm, and as many as five passable paths between two Realms.

Midgard, for whatever reason, was the Realm with the most passable paths to the other Realms. It had four passable paths to Asgard alone, and almost two dozen more split between the other inhabited Realms. One of the paths to Asgard lay in the Adirondack Mountains to the north of Manhattan. It took but a moment to teleport there, and less than an hour to traverse the path.

The path let out in the mountains above the palace. Loki teleported to the palace, just outside the throne room. Fortune smiled on him in that Frigga was ensconced on the throne. With what they were facing in a year's time, she could easily have been elsewhere for some reason.

Loki did a double take when he saw her.

If Frigga had been wearing the armor Tyr had told them of during her aborted visit with Farbauti, Loki had been too ... busy ... to notice or care. Seeing her now was rather a shock. Mostly because he recognized the elements she'd borrowed from his own armor.

While Loki loved her unreservedly, in the face of ... well, everything ... an insidious part of him had begun to question, if quietly, whether or not she truly cared for him in any wise, much less as a son. Even her obvious relief and joy at seeing him when he'd come here with the Avengers had not been enough to silence that voice entirely. This, though? This silenced that voice completely.

Armor on Asgard was ... rather individualized. Within the constraints necessary to provide protection, there were innumerable variations on colors, styles, and materials. Boys tended to use elements of their father's armor to both identify themselves with their father on the battlefield and to honor their father. Even Sif, despite being female and her pursuit of the warrior path not much approved of by her father, had elements of her father's armor evident in her own.

It had rather been a symptom of Loki's increasing distance with Odin that there had been virtually no resemblance between Loki's armor and his save the gold color of the metal. That, and the fact he'd chosen green as his color rather than red, had caused no end of comment. That Thor had chosen silver rather than gold, on the other hand, hadn't raised a single eyebrow. Perhaps because despite the color difference, the metal parts of Thor's armor had strongly resembled Odin's.

In that wise, to see Frigga in armor that so clearly, blatantly possessed elements of his own armor - elements that the court would recognize - was quite the statement. Without saying a word, Frigga was proclaiming for all to see that she was proud to claim Loki as her son.

Such thoughts were driven from his mind, however, within seconds of Frigga spotting him. She shot to her feet, eyes wide with surprise.

"Loki!"

Loki almost had a heart attack when Frigga cast Gungnir aside as if it were of no import whatever, then came as near to running as he'd ever seen her as she descended the steps from the throne and crossed the room. She all but skidded to a stop a few feet away.

"Loki, I am so sorry. I acted rashly and without thought and hurt you at a time when you could ill afford such unthinking cruelty." Frigga said, her voice pitched for his ears alone.

It was one of the reasons Loki loved her so. She understood, almost instinctively, that he wouldn't want it brayed about the castle that he was ... vulnerable ... in some way. Well, that and the fact she was one of a pitiful few who had ever apologized for their actions. Oh, and the fact she'd always supported him as best she could. All right, if Loki was going to be completely honest with himself, he was a mamma's boy. Not without a myriad of reasons, either. He didn't have it in him to hate her, or hold one of her rare mistakes as regarded him against her.

"It is forgiven and forgotten, mother." Loki told her, holding out a hand.

A hand she was quick to grab and tug him closer by, so that she could embrace him. Loki permitted it with a fond eye-roll, but extricated himself after a moment.

"I am afraid my visit is not a purely social one, mother." He admitted.

(_)(_)(_)

Frigga was nearly dizzy with relief. Both because Loki had been so quick to forgive her, and because he'd been so quick to extricate himself from her hug. The latter was a sign he was starting to regain his emotional and mental footing somewhat, as he had never been one to permit public displays of affection without complaints or attempts to evade them. Too, he was looking better. He'd lost the bruised look he'd been sporting when last he'd been on Asgard. He still looked tired, which made Frigga strongly suspect he wasn't sleeping, but given the circumstances, a lack of sleep was hardly surprising. She'd worry about *that* if he still looked tired in a week or so. At that point, he'd be risking mucking up if he used magic, which he knew very well. So if he still wasn't sleeping at that point, it would be a cause for concern.

"I feared it would not be, with Thanos to be concerned with." Frigga said, as she briefly headed back to the throne long enough to reclaim Gungnir. "Come, we'll talk in the office."

She led him to the side room that Odin had claimed millennia ago as a place to meet in private with high-ranking visitors and to do the inevitable paperwork that came with being a monarch. Frigga settled herself, not behind the desk, but in one of the chairs in front of it, and motioned for Loki to take the other, which he did.

"So, what is it that brings you?" Frigga asked.

Loki told her.

Frigga was, in a word, appalled. That such a thing had been done at all was horrifying. That it had been done to a man of such impeccable character and morals - for she could not see Captain Rogers calling friend someone who was evil-hearted - was even worse.

"You are the best when it comes to healing, mother. I do not know if you can help him, but it was worth the asking." Loki concluded.

Frigga nodded emphatically. "Of course, and of course I will see what I can do for him. I will need a few hours to prepare. I must inform the court I will be absent for a time, and then gather such things as I think I might need for this endeavor. You may stay, if you wish, or return to Midgard and let them know I'm coming. I'll arrive via Bifrost."

Loki considered that for a moment, then said. "I believe I shall return." He said. "By your leave, my Queen."

Frigga gave him an amused look. "Go, you scamp." She told him.

Once he'd left, Frigga quickly spoke with the court and Tyr, to let them know she'd be gone for the day at least, perhaps longer. It would depend on the state Mr. Barnes was in, which she would not know until she started working on him. Then she gathered up a healer's bag and a normal bag into which she placed a few of the more esoteric healing aids. Another bag was loaded with the few accoutrements she might need if magic was called for.

She ran into Sif as she was heading to the stable to collect Aedan.

"My Queen? Where are you headed?"

"Midgard. Things there are happening apace. They have need of my healing skills for a man they found." Frigga told her. While not the truth, it was close enough, and a lot faster than the whole truth, in this case.

"May I accompany you? I would speak with Loki if I may." Sif said.

Frigga considered her for a moment, but she didn't get the sense that Sif wanted to antagonize Loki. Sif had been ... rather quiet ... since that day on the Bridge. Frigga had a feeling Sif had been doing a lot of thinking in that time.

And aside from that, Frigga still wanted to get the ladies Sif and Natasha in the same room. That acquaintance would bear remarkable fruit unless she was very much mistaken.

"Very well." Frigga said.

The two of them rode to Heimdall's station and were soon, minus their mounts, on the roof of Stark Tower. They were met by Stark himself.

"Queen Frigga." He peered at Sif. " ... Lady Sif, right?"

"Correct." Sif said with a nod.

"C'mon, Barnes is inside."

They were led to a room that seemed ... remarkably barren, save for a colorful patchwork quilt thrown on the bed that lay against one wall. It seemed a somewhat larger variation on the cells in Asgard's dungeons until Stark explained its usual purpose.

Barnes himself ignored all three of them utterly. Frigga, as politely as she could, sent both Stark and Sif from the room. Their presences would provide only a distraction. She was more than able to prevent Barnes from attacking her if he suddenly attempted to do so.

Frigga performed her own examination of Barnes' body. As the others had averred, there was no recent physical damage. That said, she detected several foreign bodies, each attached to Barnes' spine, that had apparently evaded the Avengers' detection. She suspected they had escaped detection due to there being very little metal, and the fact that the foreign bodies were not, at the moment, performing any function she could detect. There were two more such bodies in the narrow space between Barnes' skull and his brain.

"Mr. Stark?" She said when she'd finished with that scan. "I am given to understand you wish to construct a new arm for Mr. Barnes?"

"Yeah." Tony told her. "I don't trust that one. I don't know who built it or what they programmed it to do."

Frigga nodded. "When you have the new arm ready, send word to Asgard. Our medical facilities will be required for the transfer. This arm is attached to his body in such a way as to make it impossible to remove by what I understand are existing Midgardian methods without killing him."

"Gotcha. Will do." Tony said with a nod.

"There are several foreign bodies laid against his spine and under his skull. I fear these bodies exist to perform evil purposes, but what they can do, I cannot tell, as none of them are active at the moment. They too will require removal."

That done, Frigga settled herself and began the extremely delicate task of ascertaining what state Barnes' mind was in, and whether or not she could do anything to bring him back to himself.

Several hours later, she gave her head a shake and sighed, before gently stroking Barnes' hair in quiet sympathy.

"The bad news is that I cannot bring him back to himself." She said. "To bring those memories forward would do as much damage to his mind as burying them did. That said, there is good news. The blocks keeping those memories at bay are already beginning to unravel on their own. Given time - as little as a matter of weeks, perhaps even days - he will begin to remember, and eventually all his memories will return on their own."

"I removed several ... traps ... in his mind. Things that would have driven him to violence, or to obey without question if certain things were said or seen." Frigga continued. "While I am unable to bring his memories forward, I have ... blunted ... the emotional impact that the memories of his time in the hands of his captors will have on him as he regains those memories. He will still be able to feel the emotions the events bring up, but those emotions will be unable to consume him."

Which was a roundabout way of saying that Barnes would not be driven to suicide by the emotional impact of the enormity of what he'd been forced to endure, become, and do at the hands of his captors. Frigga dearly wished she could do more for him, but his mind was so fragile anything more than she had already done would do more harm than good.

Chapter Text

Yelena and Soldier

(_)(_)(_)

Yelena woke with a curse hovering on her lips. One she did not voice, though it and a myriad of its fellows flowed through her mind.

Damn these capitalist dogs and their masters! All known information on Stark Tower had been included in the packet she had been given when she had been given this mission. Her bosses had known that they did not know everything about the Tower. Whatever else could be said about Anthony Stark (and what could be said was legion), the man was intelligent. He would not have allowed anyone to know the Tower's full layout and defensive capabilities.

It had been assumed that the greatest danger would lie on the floors allocated to the Avengers Initiative, and not just from the personnel housed there. Yelena still didn't know what to do about the information that each member of the Initiative had been allocated an entire *floor* of this capitalist hell. The sheer extravagance and waste of such a thing boggled her mind.

Yelena had been as prepared as she could be for the challenge of penetrating those floors in the pursuit of her mission. She had not, by any means, been prepared to be gassed unconscious before she had even left the lobby floor. Especially since the Asset had been assigned to provide a diversion that ought to have had the full attention of the Initiative members. How such a thing had been accomplished, she did not know.

She kept her eyes closed, body loose, and breathing even, as if she was still asleep. She did what she could to assess her surroundings. A cell of some sort, she knew even before she began. There was no way it would be otherwise. But beyond that, what was she facing? Unfortunately, she could not detect much of anything.

The cell's smell was minimal, and mostly one of metal and cleaning solutions. Worryingly, she could neither smell nor hear anything that was easily identifiable as coming from beyond the cell's confines. She had been stripped, which was hardly surprising given the Initiative had a rogue Widow in its numbers. They would know to not allow her to keep anything she brought with her. The clothing she had been put into instead seemed to be of one piece. She was lying on a mat that had been shaped to have head support on one end. In other words, they had done everything they could to minimize the amount of material a detainee would have at their disposal to effect an escape.

With nothing further to gain from pretending to still be asleep, Yelena opened her eyes.

The cell had been unfortunately very well constructed. Three of the walls and the floor were flat, smooth, apparently seamless metal. The light in the cell came from flat panels on the ceiling an un-handy fifteen feet over her head - well beyond even her ability to reach even if she used what little furniture was in the room to launch herself. The mat she lay on was actually on the floor. There was a metal toilet in one corner of the room that looked as if it had grown out of the wall, rather than being a separate piece bolted into place, as it must be. The one-piece jumpsuit she wore sealed down the front with Velcro.

In short, there was very, very little in the room she could turn into a weapon or use to assist in escaping. Just the mat and her jumpsuit. Provided, of course, the mat was made of a material she could rip apart bare-handed. Which Yelena was not going to presume it was.

The only weak point in the entire construction was the fourth wall. That wall held, on one side, a heavy-duty metal door, which sealed flat to the wall on the inside of the cell. There was, however, a hatch at the bottom, probably to push a tray of food and water through without having to open the door, that might prove of some use in escape. The rest of the wall was a single see-through panel that Yelena seriously doubted was glass, allowing guards or interrogators to see the entire inside of the cell save for the corner where the door stood. And if she went there, they would know, as there was nowhere else for her to hide in the cell.

Beyond the 'glass', however, was the most worrisome. Because standing there staring at her was the rogue Widow and some, but not all, of the Initiative members. The Captain, the berzerker, one of the aliens and Stark himself were missing.

By far the most worrying of the lot was the bland-faced, suit-wearing man to one side of the group. Yelena (rightly) assumed that the man, for all his apparent air of a staid, easily forgettable businessman, was every bit as dangerous in his way as the best-trained Widow. This man, she knew, used his forgettable, unassuming countenance and carriage as a weapon. He neither looked nor acted like a threat, and as such, was able to slip beneath the guard of the unwary.

"What is your designation?" The man asked, in the sort of calm, patient, almost bored tone that was usually reserved for long meetings.

Yelena didn't respond. The man repeated the question, this time in Mandarin, then in Spanish, Hindi, Arabic, Portugese, Russian, Japanese, and German. All with the same calm, patient, half-bored tone. He cycled back through to English, and tried again. Then again. After the fourth round, Yelena realized he was just going to keep on going, for however long it took to get a response out of her. She was tempted to see how long this would go on, but she had the sneaking suspicion that the man would out-wait her. With a bit of reluctant respect, Yelena finally responded, bringing the whole thing to a halt.

/Yelena Belova/. She told him. Which she had little doubt he already knew. The rogue Widow, after all, knew her, and would doubtlessly have given the man that information.

/Thank you, Miss Belova. Now, I have a number of questions. Cooperation will be rewarded./ The man said.

Unsaid went the knowledge, and understanding, that if she was difficult, there would be consequences. Just what those consequences would be was the question. The bigger question was what those consequences would be. Failure to comply with her bosses resulted in ... extremely painful and lingering ... consequences. Not that she had failed them in a very long time. Would this mild-faced man resort to like measures, or was he as soft as most capitalist dogs were when it came to extracting information from an enemy agent?

Let the games begin.

(_)(_)(_)

The Asset didn't ... didn't understand. If the Asset had emotions and permission to experience them, it/he would be seriously confused, with a dash of something that might be hope tossed in for flavor. The fact the Asset was starting to waver between the proper pronouns and those fit for real people was a symptom of that. And of the fact that it/he was in desperate need of recalibration.

After the fight with Target Designation: Thor (Priority Alpha), it and Target Designation: Loki (Priority Alpha) had brought the Asset by means unknown to the Target Location in restraints of a type unknown. This, the Asset had expected. This, the shards of it/he that wanted away from its/his current handlers had counted on. But even those shards had only dared to hope for *slightly* better conditions at the hands of its/his captors.

Most of the Asset's Targets had been in the room it/he had been brought to. Including Target Designation: Captain America (Priority Alpha).

Why did it/he think that face/voice was familiar? Why did something in it/him flinch and squirm every time it/he heard the Target's Designation, or heard it called Steve?

Why did it/he keep getting flashes of a blonde-haired boy?

Why did Target Designation: Captain America react so strongly when it saw the Asset's face?

The Asset's Targets escorted it/him from the area it/he'd been brought to. The Asset half-thought they had realized it/he needed recalibration and were going to apply it. But when they got to the new area ... no Chair. Just a large, empty room with a ...

It took the Asset a moment to identify the bed. It/He had not seen one since its/his last recalibration, and it/he had the vague notion that it/he hadn't seen, much less used, such a thing since it/he became operational. The Asset did not sleep. At least, not like *people* did. When its/his missions were complete, it/he was recalibrated, any maintenance required was performed, and it/he was stored until needed.

The Asset was so conditioned to austere surroundings that it/he wasn't even able to properly identify what the colorful thing tossed on the bed was.

Why did Target Designation: Captain America refuse to leave the Asset's line of sight?

Why did calling it Target Designation make something in the Asset cringe?

Why was the Asset deliberately failing its/his mission by not attempting, nor making plans to attempt, to carry out that mission now that it had direct access to its/his Targets?

(Because you don't want them dead. Especially *him*. He is important.)

The Targets performed some basic maintenance on the Asset, but otherwise left him alone in the room. Only then was Tar ... was Captain America finally out of line-of-sight.

With no orders, and no ability to carry them out even if he had them, all the Asset could do was stand and think. Something he had not been afforded the opportunity to do too much of over the years. By the time Captain America, Iron Man and Hulk had returned, with an unknown female in tow, the Asset had progressed to the point of dropping the Target Designation from in front of their names.

Something, and he didn't understand or know what, made him sure these people were, contrary to his orders, not the enemy. If they were not enemies, they were not Targets. The Asset had no idea what that actually made them, though. If the mission he had been given was aborted, he had no other mission, so they could not be Mission Assists.

The Asset was so busy trying to figure out how to define the Avengers that he never realized that somewhere in his contemplations, he'd stopped calling himself an it.

The unknown woman - tentatively identified as Frigga by the attendant Avengers - also performed some basic maintenance on the Asset. Then she did something very odd. She sat down near him and closed her eyes. She remained still and with eyes closed long enough that the Asset began to suspect she had fallen asleep.

Not having any form of psychic awareness, the Asset was completely unaware of the fact that Frigga was, in fact, scanning his mind to see what she could do to undo the damage that had been done.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and stood. Then she ... touched him. Stroked his hair. It was the first touch unrelated to violence or maintenance the Asset could remember receiving.

Come to think on it, the Avengers had been ... very gentle with him. Far more than he was accustomed to. Yes, Thor had gotten rough while attempting to subdue him, but after that ... there had not been a single incident of the sort of handling he'd gotten from his controllers. They had not struck him, or cut him or ... well, any of the things that had been such a part of his life he considered them *normal*.

It took a bit for the Asset to figure out that the Avengers were ... treating him like he was a person, rather than a thing. A dangerous person, to be sure, given they kept him restrained while they were in the room with him, but a person. And the restraints didn't hurt him, just kept him from being able to attack anyone.

The shards of him that had never stopped fighting his controllers, even after he' been forced to forget why fighting them had been so important, had hoped the Avengers would treat him better than his controllers did. That said, the best the Asset had dared hope for was less pain. He hadn't even dared hope that they wouldn't hurt him at all.

But they hadn't. Despite him being a threat to them. They'd done the absolute minimum to keep him from hurting them, and even that hadn't hurt. While they did not speak directly to him (much as his controllers did), the Asset got the feeling it wasn't because they didn't consider him a person, but because they assumed he either would not or could not respond, and didn't want to frustrate him. It was also possible they thought he couldn't understand them because they were speaking English.

Come to think of it, why did he understand English? He was a Russian weapon. Why would the Russians want their weapon to understand the enemy's speech? The enemy would plead for their lives, or attempt to sway him from his mission. As such, understanding what they were saying was a hindrance to the mission.

Wasn't it?

So ... why did he understand English?

Why was Captain America so familiar?

Why did he get flashes of a blonde-haired boy?

Chapter Text

Phil

(_)(_)(_)

It was past lunchtime before Phil was able to sit down in the office on his floor and really process events.

Really, it was a damn good thing that he was both fairly phlegmatic of temperament, and used to weird shit and/or insane antics. Dealing with Clint and Natasha and the sorts of missions they as Delta Team drew had been damn good practice. If circumstances had been any different, Phil had a feeling he'd be a gibbering mess by now.

Hell, he was half tempted to fill Sitwell in on this nonsense, because Sitwell *would* gibber and flail. Sitwell was a good man, and calm enough most of the time, but he was *really bad* at hiding when he'd hit his limit of weird. A tiny corner of *his* mind was wanting to stomp its feet like a toddler having a tantrum, point at Stark and say it was all his fault, so by now Sitwell would have been in high rant.

Because seriously. Before that damn suit, all Phil had really had to worry about was Clint and Natasha trying to kill themselves in interesting ways and doing their level best to wreck governments and cities when missions went wrong. Then Stark, damn him, built that suit in a cave, like that was a reasonable, sane response to the situation. And things had gone from mildly crazy to ... well ... this. Phil sometimes wished he'd tazed Stark when he had a chance.

The rest of him, of course, realized it was not, in fact, Tony's fault that the world had gone insane in the last year or so. It was just ... well, it was how things had played out. That didn't stop the last ... call it twenty hours just to be sure ... from being a bit more traumatic than usual. Not that Phil would ever admit it.

Being shot at? Hardly a new experience. That happened damn near weekly. Full bore assassination attempt, rather than a random shooting? Rarer, but it had happened often enough it was old hat for Phil. Despite his bland businessman act, there *were* people that recognized he was dangerous in his own right.

Finding out the would-be assassin was the legendary (and some claimed non-existent) Winter Soldier? That had been worth a moment of disquiet. Those that knew he existed also knew that he *never* failed a mission. And even if that hadn't been a factor, the fact remained that the Soldier was a product of the Red Room and its associates. Just bringing up the name was enough to make Natasha go all cold and remote, something Phil hated to see. Having him hunting her ... hunting *them* ... not good. Not good at all.

Natasha was still picking up the pieces from her time subjected to the Red Room. Still learning to be a person in her own right, with her own likes, dislikes, etc. Still learning how some emotions felt after so long pretending to feel those emotions. Phil had no idea how having the Soldier around would affect her. He had a feeling even *she* didn't know that. And then they'd found out who the Soldier actually *was*.

As much as Phil, as a child and teenager, had wanted to emulate Captain America, and as much as even his older, adult self still felt that way, as he'd gotten older, he'd begun to identify more and more with not Steve, but Bucky. Initially, it had been because Bucky was the 'sidekick', and Phil had been honest enough with himself to know he just wasn't the type of person who either wanted to, or was likely to be cast as, the 'hero' of the story. He was the sort of person who was in the background.

There had been a time he'd resented that fact of life a little. But then somewhere along the way, he'd realized just how important the 'sidekick', the 'backup' was. And from Bucky, he'd learned that sidekicks and backups could be badasses in their own rights. They just weren't as flashy as the hero. That, Phil could handle.

So Phil had recognized Bucky *instantly*. Despite the fact the man's face, without the personality animating it, bore little resemblance to Bucky. He had also, instantly, divined that Steve was *not* going to react well to the discovery. Between the two, he had actually, for once, slipped up and shown how surprised he was. Phil just hadn't realized how hard the discovery would hit Steve.

In his defense, no one outside of the Commandos (who had been utterly vicious about protecting Steve and Bucky's privacy in 'death') had really known just how close the two of them were. That Steve had gone behind enemy lines to rescue Bucky was a clue, of course, but it was incredibly easy to justify by any of a number of means.

Hurt, Phil had expected. He'd even expected angry. He had *not* expected the intensity of both they'd been subject to. For a few seconds there, Phil had honestly been afraid Steve would pass out from the shock. And he, like most of the others in the room, hadn't had a *clue* that Steve Rogers, of all people, could get - and visibly *look* - murderously enraged.

Well over twelve hours later, and Phil was still stunned. The worst part of it was, there was little to nothing he could do to help Steve. He knew that sooner or later the anger would ... not so much burn out as be banked, put on hold to dish out to deserving parties later. When that happened, Steve was going to fall apart. Again.

After Steve had been defrosted, one of the first things he'd been informed of was the advancements in mental health care since Steve's time. That had been done in the hope that Steve would at some point avail himself of those services to make coming to terms with his situation somewhat easier. Phil could have told the folks who'd made those plans that it'd never happen. Not because Steve was prejudiced against such things, but because he was as stubborn as a Missouri mule. He'd see his situation as his to deal with, and 'bothering' anyone about it as pointless. He'd get through it. He'd survived worse.

And that's exactly what Steve had done. He'd taken to destroying heavy bags with alarming regularity, but hadn't once spoken to a mental health professional of any stripe, regardless of whether they were attached to SHIELD or not.

After this, Phil was going to have to insist. Because there was no way in hell Steve was going to be able to handle what was coming without professional help. Above and beyond Steve's own issues regarding Bucky's 'death' and the discovery of what had been done to him, having to watch Bucky work his way back to becoming Bucky was going to tear Steve to shreds. Hell, Phil and Clint both had needed a few sessions while Natasha was working her way out of the worst of the damage the Red Room had done to her, and they hadn't been emotionally invested in her the way Steve was with Bucky.

And that was just Steve's end of things. This was going to hit ... well, most of the team ... pretty hard. About the only ones who wouldn't be dealing with nasty personal memories being dug up by this were Remy, Jane and John. Even Rogue might still have memories transferred from Logan.

The worst part of it was that Phil was going to play hell finding someone trustworthy to work with the team. And then he'd play hell *again* getting the lot of them to talk to said professional. Clint might be reasonable thanks to his trust in Phil, but even that was a 'might'.

Oh, wait. Actually, he wouldn't play hell finding someone. Didn't Charles have the necessary degrees? Yes. Yes he did. Well, that was one problem settled. Better, Charles could bypass a lot of the usual difficulties in getting people to talk using his mutation.

Right. Call Charles. Phil blew out a breath and grabbed his cell phone.

"Xavier's School for the Gifted, Professor Xavier speaking."

"Charles, it's Agent Coulson." Phil said. "We've had ... quite the evening over here." Phil then proceeded to fill Charles in.

"Oh, my." Charles said. "Yes, that would create rather a few problems for your team, wouldn't it?"

"Yes. And the list of people who could even begin to handle their various needs, much less the security clearances required, is rather short." Phil said. "Aside from one or two of the better professionals attached to SHIELD ... "

"I am about the only professional most of them would be willing to speak to." Charles finished.

"Exactly." Phil said. "And even then probably not without a fight."

"And yourself?" Xavier wanted to know.

"To be honest, I'm still ... processing ... this myself. I'm mostly too horrified for much of anything else to register at the moment. I'm pretty sure most of the rest are the same way." Phil admitted. "And the situation is further complicated by the appearance and capture of Belova. We could probably use your help with her, as well. She proved remarkably resistant to my usual, nonviolent methods of information extraction. And I know from Natasha that resorting to violence would be useless. Nor am I confident we'll be able to hold her for long. Natasha claims Belova was second best behind herself, and I *know* that even Tony's cell couldn't hold Natasha for long if she was determined to escape."

Tony was good. Better than good. The basement cell was more than enough to hold the average person indefinitely, and could probably hold Steve and even mutants whose powers didn't run to blowing things up, teleportation, metal control, or absurdly sharp claws. But Widows were hardly average, and as good as Tony was, he hadn't had access to the sort of information he'd need to build a cell that could hold a Widow long-term. Simply because that information did not exist anywhere outside of Natasha's head. Not even Phil knew *all* of what Natasha was capable of. Most of it, yes. All of it, no. And what he knew, he'd never written down anywhere or spoken about to anyone that hadn't seen her pull that particular stunt to protect her.

"I shall arrive, say, after dinner?" Charles offered. "And bring Hank so that he might consult with Dr. Reyes as to the best options for anesthesia to remove the ... inimical hardware ... from Sergeant Barnes. I will also bring young Mr. Drake, as I doubt he would let me visit the Tower without him. It will also serve to distract Rogue and John from the situation."

"Tomorrow might be better." Phil said. "Less of a rush, and you could hang about all day to establish some sort of detente with the folks here that don't know you."

"Hmm, good point." Charles said, in the sort of tone that let Phil know he'd suggested tonight knowing it wasn't the most viable idea. "Tomorrow then, first thing. I must admit I am quite looking forward to meeting Thor and Loki. It is not every day one gets to meet aliens that were once worshipped as gods."

Phil gave an amused snort. "Curiosity is killing the cat, Professor?"

"Quite so." Charles said. "And when I get there, we can discuss in more detail how the Thanos issue will be dealt with."

"I'll ask Frigga to stay here until after you arrive. She doubtlessly has news from the rest of the Realms." Phil said. "And she will probably appreciate the chance to spend time with her sons."

They could make a proper war council of it. Both to begin to deal with the Thanos situation, and to put together a plan to deal with Bucky's captors once they knew who they were and where to find them. Phil knew better than to think that *wouldn't* be on the agenda for not just Steve, but the rest of the Avengers.

Like he'd recognized earlier, pretty much all of them had a personal stake in this, one way or another. The few who didn't, would join the party simply to make it *painfully* clear to all and sundry that mucking about with an Avenger would lead to seriously unpleasant consequences at the hands of the rest of the team.

Phil considered for a moment. "Actually, if you'd be willing to stay more than a day, I think it might reassure Dr. Banner to have you present when we attempt to work *with* Hulk for the first time. He's willing to try, but very nervous about it."

"And having someone on hand who stands a chance of diverting Hulk before he gets wound up would be helpful?" Charles asked.

"Actually, we have that end covered. Betty Ross can stop Hulk in his tracks without saying a word. I'm more thinking that you might be able to help us couch things in ways Hulk can understand. No one has any idea just what his level of understanding is. We know he has some degree of intelligence, and an ability to use his surroundings to his advantage in a fight, but beyond that, it's complete guesswork."

"Ahh, I see. Yes, that would be of inestimable value in the initial contact. And then once you know his level of understanding, you can go forward from there." Charles said. "Not to mention a training session with your team will help divert their minds from the situation at hand."

"Yes, there is that. IF I can pry Steve away from Sergeant Barnes. Which is going to be a big if." Phil admitted.

Chapter Text

Sif

(_)(_)(_)

Sif had only ever been to Midgard the once, so she was ... rather startled ... when the Bifrost deposited them on top of a building taller than any in Asgard. Even the palace was not so tall. She would not have been amused to discover that her thoughts as regarded Midgard and its population were echoing those of Farbauti, on their brief visit to Midgard.

Sif had no gift for healing - that fact had been part of why she'd sought the warrior path as a child - so she did not follow Queen Frigga when she went to attend the man the Avengers sought her aid with. She ended up prowling about what seemed to be a common gathering area for the Avengers, peering curiously at various items about the area and trying to divine their purpose.

Some of it was fairly obvious. While Asgard didn't have weight-lifting per se, training to be able to lift sword, spear, and hammer for hours in battle did exist. Sif actually thought the heavy, liftable equipment a rather clever means by which to train thus. Even if she was rather confused because the only Avenger who carried an actual weapon was the man called Hawkeye - Clint Barton, hadn't it been?, so far as she knew.

The entertainment area was equally easily identified, even if the precise means of entertainment baffled her. Seating arrangements gathered around something - usually a stage or convenient wide swath of flat ground - were common to all the Realms. Likewise the swimming areas. Contained swimming areas were unknown to Asgard, but Sif had seen such things on Vanaheim.

The weaponless sparring area was equally easily identified. Sif thought the padded mats that lined the area a fine idea. Far too often, broken bones and other serious injuries had resulted from a sparring session due to landing on unforgiving stone and dirt.

What use some things could be put to completely escaped her, however. Mostly, it was the gymnastics equipment that stymied her. She stood under the rings dangling down from the ceiling for a good five minutes staring at them, trying to figure out what they were and why they were there. It was thus that the Black Widow came upon her.

"They're used to train agility and flexibility."

Sif jolted and whirled around to face the unexpected voice, then relaxed when she identified the one called Black Widow. She glanced back up at the rings, then over at ... Natasha, that had been the name ... again. Her confusion must have shown on her face.

"Perhaps a quick demonstration will make it clearer." Natasha said. "Give me a few moments. I'm not dressed properly for exercise." and she disappeared into a door against one wall.

Natasha came out a couple minutes later dressed in the figure-hugging black outfit Sif remembered from the Avengers' visit to Asgard. She then proceeded to demonstrate the use of the equipment that had baffled Sif. It was rather eye-opening. And not just because training for agility and flexibility was all but unknown on Asgard, where strength was all.

Sif had not doubted Thor when he claimed Natasha to be a warrior. She hadn't even really needed Thor's proclamation to know Natasha was a warrior. It was all over the way Natasha walked, the way she assessed a room and everyone in it. But knowing Natasha could fight and seeing even a fraction of it first-hand were two entirely different things.

So much of how Sif fought, she'd had to adapt from methods designed for the strength and stamina of an Asgardian man - neither of which she could match, no matter how hard she tried. She really ought to have emulated Loki, and worked out a style that played to her strengths, but she'd been determined to be the ideal Asgardian warrior. The worst part (she now understood, having been doing a lot of thinking the past few weeks) of it was, she had denied herself a chance to learn from the warrior women of other Realms because of it.

No longer. At least, not if Natasha was willing. Besides, it just might be *fun*, testing herself against someone whose abilities were so at odds with her own. Even Loki, who had catered to his strengths in long-distance fighting, had become competent with sword and spear. Insofar as Sif knew, Midgardians did not use such implements in battle, and had not for some time, at least compared to their own lifespans, if not in Asgardian terms.

"Would you be amenable to sparring?" Sif asked. She blinked a bit at the toothy, predatory grin the question got her.

"That ... sounds like fun." Natasha said, then glanced up. "Jarvis - warn us if the boys decide to show up."

"Of course, Agent Romanov." The odd-sounding voice that was the building's invisible servant (at least, that what Sif understood Jarvis to be, anyway) said.

"Why would you ask that?" Sif wanted to know.

"Men are children." Natasha said. "Watching two 'girls' fight ... "

"Ah." Sif said, divining at least part of the problem. Yes, men were children, and she could see where they would at the least be tempted to make stupid comments if they watched the two women spar. "Though I had thought women fighting was more accepted here?"

"More accepted, yes. Completely equal, no." Natasha said. "And in this case, most of the men on the team are ... rather given to making stupid comments even under the best of conditions." Her tone was one of tolerant amusement rather than irritation or anger.

Sif smirked. "True enough of Prince Thor." She admitted, tone likewise amused. "And of Fandral, another of Thor's usual companions on Asgard. I've lost track of the number of times I've had to thump one or both of them over the head for being idiots. The other two of our company are rarely a problem that way. Volstagg is a bit older than the rest of us, and his wife has ... educated him ... about such things. Hogun hardly speaks at all, never mind participating in idiot male posturing."

The two women shared a look that women throughout the Realms have exchanged when the menfolk of their lives are discussed. Sif then divested herself of her sword and armor, leaving her in a leather vest (used to pad the armor) a short-sleeved shirt and leather trousers. After a moment's contemplation, she removed the vest as well, putting herself on more equal footing with Natasha where physical protection from attack was concerned. She could do nothing to negate the advantages being Asgardian gave her unfortunately. The predatory look Natasha was giving her made Sif think her strength would not be too much a concern, in any case.

They started slowly, circling each other, feinting, testing each other's reactions and trying to discover any tells. Sif was ... disconcerted ... to discover that Natasha didn't seem to have tells, at all. That said, Natasha's fighting style did remind Sif somewhat of Loki's, in that she was fast, agile, and not afraid to use it to its utmost.

"Your pardon, ladies, but most of the Avengers area headed to this floor." Jarvis said. "Only Captain Rogers is not, and that, I think, is solely because he refuses to leave Sergeant Barnes' side."

Sif traded an amused, exasperated, and knowing look with Natasha. Sure enough, less than two minutes later, and the entirety of the Avengers, save Captain Rogers, tumbled out of the elevator. Sif cocked her head slightly when she spotted two youths she didn't know among them.

"Stark. Barton." Natasha said, her tone one of warning.

"What? It's not like we've seen all that many Asgardians in action, now have we?" Tony asked.

Sif decided to give him points for trying. After all, it was true. They'd only seen Thor in battle. The gleam in Tony's eye, however, said there was a more ... puerile ... reason he'd shown up. She cocked her head at Natasha, who returned the look with another of those rather disconcertingly predatory grins.

Sif blocked their audience out with the ease of long practice. Training sessions always tended to gather a crowd of observers in Asgard. Especially when it had been their company training. With the two princes of the Realm, a woman, and a Vanir (Hogun) in their company, they had always gathered a huge number of observers.

Sif quickly discovered that Natasha was stronger than she had anticipated a female Midgardian to be. Sif wasn't sure if that was something unique to Natasha, if she had underestimated Midgardian strength, or if it was just a product of Natasha's training as a warrior. Natasha still didn't have the brute strength even female Asgardians possessed, but she was a lot closer to it than Sif had dared hope. Natasha actually succeeded in raising bruises with her strikes!

Sif had just started to really get into the rhythm of their sparring when Natasha did ... something ... that ended up with Sif on her back on the floor staring at the ceiling in confusion. The watching Avengers were all cheering Natasha's victory. Sif sat up after a moment.

"What was that you did?" Sif wanted to know. She'd not really caught much of it, other than it had involved Natasha flinging herself at Sif legs first.

"It's a move designed to use a bigger opponent's weight and center of balance against them." Natasha said. "I've brought down men Thor's size with it more times than I can count."

"Would you be willing ... " Sif started.

Natasha grinned at her, a more friendly and less predatory version than the earlier versions. "Thor, get over here. You'll suffer least for getting thrown on your back a lot. And as long as I'm showing Sif this move ... Rogue, Darcy, front and center."

That got a lot of laughter from the watching group. Even from Thor, who gamely joined them on the mats. The female youth and the woman Sif had heard had felled one of the palace guards came forward, stopping just shy of the mats to watch from a better vantage point.

Natasha grinned at them. "This move is simple enough. You really don't even need that much momentum to pull it off. You just grab your target around the neck and/or head with your legs and swing your weight around, aiming for the ground. The target *will* go down, if only to avoid getting their neck snapped. Which can be done with this move if you know what you're doing, but the basic version just *threatens* that ... and since no one wants their neck snapped, they're not going to fight the momentum and risk it."

Sif nodded. Even Asgardians avoided that eventuality. Not even their healers could fix a broken neck, which as often as not resulted in death. Breaks lower down in the spine could be fixed, but necks, not so much. She watched as Natasha demonstrated the move, moving more slowly than she had when she'd pulled it on Sif. Even braced and expecting it, Thor did indeed go down, laughing as he sat up.

It took Sif a few tries to get the move right, but she did get it. Thor was a good sport about the whole thing. He even let Darcy attempt to learn the move with him as her target. Darcy whooped and bounced for a good ten minutes after she successfully brought Thor down. Rogue, however, refused to attempt it. Sif wasn't sure why, but no one tried to push her.

After that, the Avengers adjourned to the entertainment area. Sif, mindful of her decision to at least try to apologize to Loki, angled towards him as the others, laughing and talking, took their places.

Sif knew better than to think Loki would forgive her her stupidity. Loki was ... not given to forgiveness. Or forgetting. That said, apologizing would seriously reduce the amount of 'pranks' aimed at her once Loki returned to Asgard. Well, Sif assumed he would return there eventually. Someday. Perhaps not for as much as a millennium, but given the length of their lives, he'd return eventually.

"Prince Loki ... "

Loki shot her a look. "Yes, Lady Sif?" His tone was cold and remote.

Sif flinched mentally, but forged on. "I owe you an apology." She sighed. "In truth, I owe you many. More than most. I, of all, should have ... " She sighed again. "Should have been on your side. After all, there was little difference between us. A woman daring to be a warrior, and a man who ... chose non-traditional pursuits." She settled on, given that Loki's differences were not easily summed up in a word or two otherwise. "Had I not been so blind, so eager to be the perfect Asgardian warrior ... " She shrugged. "Well, that lay at the root of the problems between us."

All she'd ever been able to see was that Loki refused to 'do the right thing' by being a true Asgardian warrior. She'd taken it as a personal affront that he opted for nontraditional weaponry. She'd taken his interest in magic as an outright insult aimed at her. Magic was, after all, traditionally a female pursuit. Loki's interest in and easy mastery of magic had ... well, not gone over well. She'd felt like he was saying 'See? Magic is so easy even a *man* can do it. Yet here you are, completely incompetent at even the most basic principals of magic. And you call yourself a woman?'

Far too late for it to do any good, she'd finally realized that wasn't what Loki had been doing.

Loki regarded her for a long moment, then eventually nodded before walking away from her.

Well, that had gone better than she'd dared hope. She'd half expected him to yell at her or pull some magical prank on her. After a few moments, she joined the Avengers, curious to see what sort of entertainment could be had when staring at a blank section of wall.

Chapter Text

Charles and Hank

(_)(_)(_)

The efficiency of the rumor mill in the mansion never failed to amuse Charles. It generally took, at worst, an hour for news to reach every ear. And that was without the aid of the resident telepaths using their skills to either obtain or disseminate the information. So he had not been surprised in the least when, less than a half hour after he'd gotten the call from Agent Coulson, Bobby was in his office door, asking if he could go to the Tower with Charles.

Charles hadn't been about to say no. Until Logan's arrival, Bobby had been all that had been holding John here and keeping ... well, keeping John's bitter anger to a dull roar. Knowing as he did that his own friendship with Erik had been all that had kept Erik from going off the rails right from the start, Charles wasn't about to interfere with Bobby and John's friendship. He just hoped their friendship would not end the way his and Erik's had.

He, Hank, and Bobby left the mansion directly after breakfast. Getting to the Tower was still ... problematic. The repair crews and general citizenry were doing their best, but the damage had been fairly extensive, and two weeks was not nearly enough time to do much more than fill in the worst of the potholes from the aliens' guns and get the biggest of the debris, the aliens and their equipment out of the streets. There were still numerous smaller (for a given value of small, considering the largest were car-sized) potholes in the streets, piles of smaller debris, and repair crews making the streets difficult to negotiate. At least there were, now, travel routes open in the affected area, however serpentine they might be. Despite all of that, they made fairly good time, and were greeted by Tony himself.

"Charles, Hank. Bobby." Tony greeted. "Bobby, John and Rogue are on the common floor. You've got access to it."

Bobby immediately tore off, eager to see his friend and girlfriend. Once he was out of earshot, Tony glanced at the other two.

"Hank, Cecelia and Frigga are on the quarantine lab floor. It's looking more and more like we're just going to take him to Asgard and let them dig the crap out of him. Their surgical methods beat ours by a few miles. Unfortunately, they've never worked on a human before, so you and Cecelia will still be acting as consultants." Tony sighed. "The main reason it's probably going to be Asgard is Jarvis has monitored several ... transmissions ... aimed in the poor bastard's general direction. They might be trying to activate the stuff they put in him. Just blind luck he's where he's at. That lab is shielded against everything, incoming and outgoing. Unfortunately, turning it into a surgical suite isn't possible."

Hank looked momentarily angry on the behalf of Sergeant Barnes, then nodded and immediately headed off.

Once he too was gone, Tony shot Charles a look. "How do you want to work this? Talk to the gang first, or her?"

"I believe that talking to the team first would probably be better." Charles said. "Depending on how difficult your captive is, I might not have the energy after I'm done attempting to work with her."

"Right. Most of the gang is on the common floor." Tony said. "Trying to distract themselves. We haven't been able to budge Cap off the lab floor. How he's still holding it together, I really don't know. When he crashes, it's not going to be pretty." Tony snorted. "What the hell am I saying? It's already been ugly as hell. I did *not* know Spangles could get that pissed off."

Charles cocked an eyebrow in question.

"Let's put it this way. He made Natasha flinch." Tony told him. "And Logan."

Well. That was ... somewhat alarming. Charles didn't know Natasha personally, of course, but she was rather legendary for her calm and fearlessness in the face of ... anything and everything. Logan he knew better. Well enough to know the man did not flinch for any reason, much less due to being intimidated by another person.

"Perhaps I should start there, then." Charles said, and the two of them made their way to the elevator.

By the time they got there, Hank was deep in conference with Cecelia and another woman that Charles assumed was Frigga, given Tony's earlier comment, to one side of a heavy metal door. They were looking at a screen that was displaying the back and head of a man, sans skin, with several spots along the spine and skull glowing a malevolent purple. Charles presumed the display was a rendering of Sergeant Barnes' body and the items that required removal.

Captain Rogers was, quite literally, sitting on the floor just outside that heavy door, watching a second screen. Watching the screen for a few moments, Charles could not fault Steve for his angry, heartbroken expression. The screen showed the interior of the lab, where Sergeant Barnes was being held. Barnes was just standing more or less in the center of the room, unmoving, face blank of all expression.

"He hasn't moved at all." Tony said, surprisingly quiet for a man who could attract and keep the attention of thousands effortlessly. "Either of them."

Charles rolled closer to Steve, careful to keep his telepathy to himself. He didn't really need to peek right now anyway. What Steve was feeling was written all over his face. The challenge here wasn't figuring out how Steve felt, but getting him to actually talk about it. Charles wasn't even going to hope for that, just yet. He decided to settle for successfully getting Steve off the floor, in both senses of the word.

"Captain ... Steve." It took a second, but Steve tore his attention away from the screen he'd been watching. "You're not going to do Sergeant Barnes a bit of good if you collapse from lack of food and sleep." Charles said quietly.

Steve gave him a mulish look. Charles suppressed a wholly inappropriate spurt of amusement at how juvenile the expression made Steve appear. Just then, he'd looked no older than most of Charles' students. Then again ... he might just be able to use that against Steve.

"Come now. I'd expect such an expression from my students, not a grown adult." Charles said. Which got him a deeper glower. "You know I'm talking sense. At the very least, you need to eat. As fast as your metabolism works, I'm surprised your stomach isn't already snarling at you."

That got him a somewhat guilty look, then a much-put-upon sigh. "Fine. I suppose I gotta." Steve grumbled.

Good lord, but it really was like dealing with his students. Charles did still manage to chivvy Steve to the common floor and the kitchen there. With food in his immediate line of sight, Steve's hunger finally took precedence over his concern for his friend. Steve lost no further time in fixing himself something to eat and drink.

While he was thus engaged, Charles motored out of the kitchen area and towards the entertainment area where the vast majority of the Avengers were gathered. Bobby, John, and Rogue had withdrawn and were talking animatedly among themselves far enough away from the entertainment area that their chatter wouldn't disturb the movie watchers. The rest were (purportedly) watching a movie - one of the ones that had more explosions and action than sensible plot. While everyone was facing that general direction, it was pretty clear their attention was not on the movie. While Charles was not explicitly an empath, it didn't really take any talent at all, never mind a mutation, to divine the general mood of the room, and in many cases, the mood of the individuals in it.

Time to get to work.

(_)(_)(_)

Hank was working very hard to not growl. He'd lost little time in getting to the quarantine lab floor to assess the situation with Sergeant Barnes. He had, he was willing to admit, been rather thoroughly diverted temporarily upon his arrival. First by the sight of Captain Rogers sitting on the floor watching one of Tony's computer screens with the most woebegone expression Hank had ever seen on a human's face. Then, by the presence of Cecelia and a dignified blonde woman he did not know, who introduced herself as Frigga.

It had taken all of Hank's not inconsiderable willpower to keep the ten thousand and one questions he wanted to ask behind his teeth. Now was not the time to inquire about Asgard and its people, however much he might want to.

Given that Frigga was from an entirely different world, it did not surprise Hank that she did not react negatively to his appearance. It was entirely possible she had seen much odder things in her time than a man covered in blue fur. That said, given how rare such acceptance was here on Earth, Hank still found it unusual and rather delightful. The three of them quickly lost themselves in consulting over the medical challenges Sergeant Barnes presented. That was what was making Hank want to growl so badly.

The hardware along Sergeant Barnes' spine and under his skull proved to be computer chips attached surprisingly tiny power sources after a far more in depth scan by Jarvis. Worryingly, the power sources also seemed to serve as a means by which to kill the Sergeant if he ever escaped his controllers, as all of them were capable of exploding. Hank really couldn't figure out which he should be angrier about. That the things existed at all, or that they could kill him with a flick of a switch.

Cecelia, despite her excellent skills, was not a neurosurgeon. Trauma surgeons could, by virtue of what they were and were expected to deal with, manage a lot of surgical procedures. Neurosurgery of any description, however, was not something they knew how to perform. Under normal circumstances in a trauma situation, if someone required surgery of that sort, they were handed over to a neurosurgeon. While Hank had little doubt that Tony could and would bring in the best neurosurgeon on the planet to work on Sergeant Barnes, they were trying to keep the knowledge of what they were doing and to whom within the Tower. Regardless of oaths taken or money paid, people could be forced to speak by any of a variety of means.

There was also the complication that any neurosurgeon they brought in would be unlikely to have any familiarity with working on someone with an atypical body. Their scans were making it quite clear that Sergeant Barnes had been ... modified ... at some point with a bastardized version of the serum that had enhanced Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes' vital statistics were not to the Captain's level, but they were above the human norm. Sergeant Barnes' modifications seemed to have focused not on physical perfection but on stamina, endurance, and healing. Insofar as Hank was able to determine, Sergeant Barnes had not gained in height or muscle mass. His metabolism, while faster than normal, was roughly half that of the Captain's. The Sergeant's ability to heal, however, nearly equaled that of Logan, and was much faster than the Captain who, in keeping with his metabolism, healed about four times faster than a normal human.

The source of the differences could be any of a number of things. The likeliest was, of course, a difference in the make and/or application of the serum. There was also the possibility that the conditions under which it had been applied - meaning as a method of torture, since the likeliest time for Sergeant Barnes to have ben exposed to the serum was during his incarceration at the hands of Hydra - had had an impact. It could also be because Sergeant Barnes started out far more optimized than Captain Rogers did when the serum was applied, so less work had needed to be done to optimize his body.

The other matter making Hank want to growl was the Sergeant's prosthetic arm. While it was, without doubt, a technological wonder well ahead of its time, and something that under other circumstances Tony would be deeply jealous of, it was also an abomination.

The good news was that whoever had attached the arm had not removed all of the Sergeant's arm and shoulder. The arm had been amputated roughly halfway between shoulder and elbow, but the rest remained. Better still, the job had been done correctly, rather than just hacking it off and leaving it at that. That was, unfortunately, where the good news ended.

The arm, aside from containing empty spaces clearly meant for armaments to be emplaced, also had a compartment in the 'armpit' area that concealed containers filled with ... well, they weren't sure what, but given the situation, it couldn't be anything good for the Sergeant. These containers fed directly into the stump, feeding their contents into the Sergeant's system. Fortunately, the containers would run dry within a half-day at their current rate of use. Unfortunately, that added the high probability of dealing with the Sergeant being in withdrawal to their already intimidating list of his problems.

There was an added complication in that the arm was connected to Sergeant Barnes' nervous system, to allow him to move and manipulate it as one would the arm one was born with. The leads that attached the arm to his nervous system were attached at a number of points on the stump and in the shoulder, and would require a very fine hand indeed to remove them without causing the Sergeant nerve damage.

Worse than that, however, was the fact that the arm had been grafted to the Sergeant's shoulder and ribcage. While it could still be removed by their own surgical means, the likelihood of the Sergeant dying in the process was ridiculously high. The odds of them managing to stop the bleeding before he bled out, remove the leads without damaging his nerves, putting in bone grafts where they had no choice but to remove bone (fortunately only a couple of fairly small spots, but still), get skin grafts on to protect the newly exposed muscle and bone, and keep infection at bay were miniscule. Something was bound to go wrong somewhere, and with as extensive as the procedure would have to be, the odds of the Sergeant dying on the table were far higher than Hank and Cecelia were comfortable with.

In short, Hank could well see why Cecelia was leaning towards Sergeant Barnes being taken to Asgard to get everything removed. As Frigga described their surgical methods, they could remove and fix everything save the missing portion of the Sergeant's arm with virtually no risk of death, and literally no risk of infection. Their only problem lay in the fact that the Sergeant was not Asgardian, so they did not know how to set up their medical equipment such that the Sergeant would remain unconscious for the procedure.

The question remaining was when the Sergeant would go. Hank was of the opinion that they needed to wait both for the drugs in the arm to run dry, and for any withdrawal to run its course. This would also give Tony more time to build a replacement arm so that the Sergeant need not go without, or undergo a second surgical procedure (though that was unlikely) to attach the new arm. Cecelia agreed with him. Frigga, on the other hand, was of the opinion that they ought to bring the Sergeant to Asgard now.

"We can keep him comfortable while the drugs and withdrawal run their courses." Frigga said. "And our metalsmiths would be pleased to donate their work areas and supplies to Tony for the creation of a new arm. We also have metals that are far lighter and stronger than that of the arm he has now. There would be no need for it to be anchored to shoulder and side, were it created with Asgardian metals. And it would not damage easily. And the Sergeant would be well beyond the reach of all who would attempt to harm or reclaim him."

Well, there was that, Hank thought. Because whoever had held him *would* eventually attempt to regain their ... lost asset. And while Hank knew the Avengers were fully capable (and more than willing) of stopping any such attempts, avoiding them entirely would likely be the better course.

"Let's go talk to Tony. We'll need him on board for this." Hank finally said. "But other than that, you raise good points."

Chapter Text

Darcy and Pepper

(_)(_)(_)

So ... the last day? Had not been a fun time at all. For anybody. Darcy was actually kind of happy she'd missed the worst of the explosion. She'dve hated it if she'd accidentally-on-purpose tazered Captain Freaking America because he was having pretty much the definition of 'world's crappiest day ever' and scared her.

Really, the entirety of the 'capes and spandex' crowd was ... not happy. Not that Darcy blamed any of them in the least. Hell, she wanted to tazer the assholes that had done that to Sergeant Barnes herself. Because those sorts of people - if they could be *called* people - deserved every scrap of pain and misery that could be doled out to them. She really, really, really didn't envy them when the gang got themselves sorted out and figured out who had done this and where they were. That was going to be pretty much the definition of epic beatdown.

The thing was? Right now, the lot of them were anything but ok. Which meant that as far as Darcy knew, not a one of them had eaten anything since all hell broke loose. Though it was looking like Xavier had finally gotten Steve to eat, which relieved one worry. The others? Yeah. Not so much. Well, Darcy had experience with getting people who didn't want to eat for whatever reason to eat, so she headed for the kitchen after Steve had left it.

"Jarvis? I need a hand here." Darcy said.

"Yes, Miss Lewis?" Jarvis asked.

"I want to make some food for everybody - stuff to temp them to eat, 'cause I don't think any of them except Steve have eaten since this broke loose - and even Steve probably hasn't eaten enough to appease his metabolism. Problem is, I know Jane's favorites like the back of my hand, and have figured out a few for Tony, Loki, and Bruce, but I don't know any of the others' favorite foods yet. I figured you might have a clue that direction."

"I do indeed." And there was definite relief in Jarvis' voice. Sometimes, Darcy wondered about that. He tended to have a lot of emotion in his voice for a computer program, regardless of how well written a program he might be.

Jarvis listed off some possibilities, and even provided her with recipes, since she didn't exactly have every recipe she'd ever used memorized. Some of the dishes would have to be ordered from restaurants, though. She was a good enough cook, but some of the favorites were stuff she'd never even heard of before, never mind knew how they should smell/look, much less tried to cook before. She was all for experimenting and expanding her cooking repertoire, but now was not the time. Jarvis agreed to call the restaurants with the best versions of those recipes, and Darcy rolled up her sleeves to start on the rest. While she was working, she had a thought.

"Jarvis? Has anyone thought to call Pepper? Tony could probably do with her being here, and ... well, sooner or later, word of Sergeant Barnes is going to make it out of the Tower, either under our control or otherwise. Might be best to start figuring out how the heck to handle that now, rather than later." She said.

"No, she has not been called. Fortunately, she is currently en route, as she finished the last of her scheduled meetings. I had intended to inform her when she reached the jet, to minimize the potential for unwanted surveillance."

"Good call there." Darcy agreed.

By the time the food was ready, Pepper was, according to Jarvis, airborne and fully informed. And, Darcy knew, probably mulling over how the heck to handle this mess. Better still, the delectable odors of the food she'd been cooking had succeeded in dragging everyone into the common floor kitchen. Even Steve, though he had a Starkpad with him and was watching a video feed of the quarantine lab. They were all currently gathered around the big table and talking, mostly about Sergeant Barnes in one respect or another, though there was some talk about a team trip to Asgard for training if Darcy was hearing things right.

"I just ... I wish he would move. Sit down, something." Steve said, sounding wrecked.

Darcy cocked her head. "Has anyone told him he could?" She asked. Only to find practically everyone staring at her. "What?" She started, ready to defend her question.

"I think most of us are kicking ourselves for not thinking of that." Bruce said quietly. "We've not exactly been thinking all that clearly."

"Yeah. That." Tony said, waving his fork in Bruce's direction.

Darcy mentally sighed in relief. "Hey, you guys may be big damn heroes, but that doesn't mean you have to think of everything all the time." She pointed out. "And it kind of helps that I'm not directly involved. Gives me the chance to think of stuff like that."

"Miss Lewis, the deliveries have arrived." Jarvis said.

"Excellent! Perfect timing." Darcy said as she pulled the last dish out of the oven. "All right, you lot. Grab plates and silverware. And so help me, if there is a scrap of food left when you lot are done eating, there will be words." Darcy leveled them all with a flat glare. A glare that doubled in intensity when she noticed a few highly amused looks being exchanged between some of the guys.

She huffed and headed for the elevator to grab the restaurant-provided dishes, but she was grinning as she did. If they were able to be amused at her high-handedness, they weren't too bad off. And that was good news.

(_)(_)(_)

There were times when Pepper seriously considered the advisability of never letting Tony out of her sight. It seemed like every time she did, all hell broke loose. Once upon a time, that had inevitably meant wild parties, crazy stunts, and the predictable paparazzi feeding frenzies that followed. More recently, it had tended to mean ... far uglier things. Tony being kidnapped, explosions, and death among other unpleasantries.

Of course, every time she started having thoughts along those lines, she'd remember what sticking to Tony at all times would mean. And as much as Pepper loved the man, she didn't think she could handle day-plus long creative binges and their attendant heavy-metal music at eardrum-shattering decibels and complete lack of sleep. She honestly didn't know how Tony managed to deal with those binges.

To be completely fair, this latest incident had absolutely nothing to do with Tony save it had happened while he was in Stark Tower. Pepper truly didn't know what to think of the fact that Sergeant Barnes was ... well ... not completely dead. She wouldn't say he was alive, because from what Jarvis had told her, at the moment the body was alive, but the man himself was nowhere to be found.

Though the one scrap of good news was that according to Frigga, he would eventually surface. Pepper was glad both for his sake and for Steve's. The only other bit of good news was that because Tony and the other Avengers were more or less losing their minds (rather understandably) about this, Pepper had a chance to get ahead of them.

A cleanup crew was dispatched to Trump Tower to clean up the mess that had been made during the attempt to capture 'the assassin' that had turned out to be Barnes. With a bit of work, any evidence an Avenger had been on-site would be removed, leaving people to assume a normal burglary had taken place. That would give them all precious time to deal with Barnes and the Yelena woman before Fury found out.

Pepper contacted the legal team and got them started on the whole mess. She wouldn't put it past Fury to try to let Barnes hang out to dry for what he'd been forced to do as the so-called Winter Soldier. Try being the operative word, because in the unlikely event of the SI legal team failing to keep Barnes out of trouble, Steve would definitely have something to say about the matter, and the rest of the Avengers would be right behind him.

Next, she called Henry from public relations and told him to clear his morning tomorrow, and to schedule a meeting with him to talk about his next challenge. While they weren't going to go public with Sergeant Barnes' existence yet, it would be wise to have something set up and ready to go as soon as possible, so that they didn't get caught unawares.

When she arrived at the Tower, she found, rather predictably, chaos. Everyone seemed to be flying in about a dozen different directions and no one could seem to get themselves organized. Pepper listened quietly to the ideas flying around for a little bit to make sure no one had thought of anything new since Jarvis' last report. Once assured on that front, she caught the eye of Frigga and Charles, and motioned for them to head off to one side. Once there, she nodded respectfully to Frigga.

"I apologize for the chaos. I hope we're not intruding too much on matters of state back in Asgard." Pepper said.

"There is little more that I can do at the moment." Frigga said. "Lord Tyr is in charge of preparing our troops. What else remains to be done is things I cannot do myself, but I trust our people to get them done."

"All right. I'll try to get this bunch a bit more organized. I don't blame them for being so out of sorts, but they're wasting time that could be put to use." Pepper said. Frigga and Charles both nodded, then the three of them pulled apart. Pepper marched into the middle of the common room and glanced around.

"Steve, Tony, Thor and Loki - you need to sit down with Charles and Frigga and talk about what's going on and where." Pepper said. "Tony - make sure to ask what their fabrication equipment is like so you'll know if you can make the new arm there or will have to make it here. Hank, Cecelia, go pack what you think might be needed for the procedures for Barnes. Loki, before the meeting, we're going to need to borrow you so we can see if Barnes will follow orders we give him. We need to find out if we can get him to eat and drink ASAP." She took a deep breath. "Natasha, tell Jarvis what you know of the people who trained you and Barnes. He can start hunting them down while we're dealing with other matters. Darcy? Thanks for getting everyone to eat. Bobby, you, John and Rogue can head into the city if you want - Happy will be willing to drive you wherever you want to go, if you're not interested in sitting in on what we're going to be doing."

She didn't mention that Charles would interrogate Yelena later in the day, after the meeting. The kids didn't need to know that and the adults would know that it would be happening at some point.

Steve looked a bit mulish about having to be in a meeting when he wanted to be with Barnes, but Pepper knew his responsible leader side would ensure he did attend. The others she'd named off just sort of looked relieved to have definite orders and plans of action. Pepper had little doubt that they'dve gotten themselves ironed out sooner rather than later - especially Natasha, who seemed to be a great deal like Pepper in some respects. Still, having someone take charge and give the orders, however briefly, had to help a little bit. Especially when there were about ten different things going on at once.

Steve followed Loki down to the quarantine lab, not that that surprised Pepper one bit. She was tempted to go take a look herself, but decided she really didn't need any more heartbreak. The one look she'd gotten at Barnes on the Starkpad Steve had been watching over Steve's shoulder was more than enough. That glimpse of Barnes had been more than enough to make her want to go out and kick someone's ass on his behalf.

The kids conferred among themselves for a bit, and evidently decided that they wanted to go hang out elsewhere in town, as they headed for the elevator after they finished talking. Natasha removed herself to a far corner of the room to brief Jarvis. Tony cornered Frigga, probably to find out about how metalworking was done in Asgard, since that was a concern separate from the whole 'ok, what's going on and where' that the meeting would be about. Thor and Loki sort of drifted that way as well, with Charles motoring after them. Pepper was so busy tracking that bunch and the ones that didn't have anywhere specific to go that she almost missed Hank and Cecelia heading out.

The atmosphere in the room shifted considerably as folks got down to business. Pepper was tempted to sit in on the meeting, but that was a council of war, not a business meeting, and she didn't really have anything she could contribute. If they wanted to kick ass on the business front, she would have been in the thick of the meeting, but actual war was not her province. After a few moments she decided to check in on the little knot of Avengers that didn't really have anything to do at the moment.

"You boys all right?" She asked as she got close.

Clint gave her a flat look that said 'what do you think?'. Logan just snorted. Remy shrugged, and to his credit, honestly didn't look all that bothered about the situation compared to most of the others. Bruce, at least, was willing to talk.

"As well as can be. Hulk's been ... a little restless, but not in an 'I want out now' sort of way. I don't think. Sometimes, it's hard to tell when he's gearing up to break out." Bruce said.

Pepper cocked her head. "Really? You don't always get advance warning?"

Bruce shook his head. "No. Granted, most of the times I don't get advance warning is because I didn't know someone was about to shoot me or whatever, but there's been a time or two when he tried to get sneaky about breaking out. Which, in hindsight, I should have realized was a sign there was more to him than just rage and 'smash'."

Pepper patted him on the arm. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Bruce. You were hardly in an ideal situation to investigate Hulk's capabilities until now. Small wonder you never caught on to such things when you had to worry about the General catching up to you."

Then she pointed a finger at Clint and Logan. "As for you two, don't think I don't know this is bothering you. I'll tell you the same thing I've told Tony on multiple occasions. There is no shame in talking things out when you're upset. It doesn't have to be me, or even a mental health professional, but please, do talk to someone, all right?"

"And Tony followed that advice, obviously." Clint snarked.

Pepper almost rolled her eyes. "Of course not, he's Tony. But that doesn't mean you can't follow the advice either."

Chapter Text

Frigga

(_)(_)(_)

Frigga had found the delay in meeting to discuss events rather illuminating. Watching the Avengers and their closest compatriots as they reacted to the discovery of James Barnes' situation was fascinating - and she had missed the first half-day of reactions. There was an ever-changing roster of people gathering in groups around or passing close by others, providing support both blatant and subtle.

Frigga could not detect the pattern in the ebb and flow of people and the support they gave or were willing to receive, as she had virtually no knowledge of most of the people present. Given that most of the people in the room had only known each other for two weeks, the fact they were picking up on who needed help and were willing to provide it was very telling. While there had also been a few problems, and it was obvious that not everyone knew how to handle all of their distressed fellows, it was clear that the Avengers and their compatriots were on their way to becoming a very tightly knit group.

Those thoughts Frigga put aside once Loki had returned from assisting with dealing with James Barnes. From Loki's expression, Frigga divined that they had had at least some level of success. Loki looked both triumphant and greatly disturbed. Enough so that even the Midgardians, who were less familiar with Loki than she, were picking up on it, if Tony Stark's narrow-eyed look of concern every time he looked Loki's way was anything to go by.

Thor sat down to her left and Loki to her right. Frigga shifted just slightly - enough so that her arm brushed Loki's. He shot her a faintly exasperated look that reassured her as much as it amused her.

"I am fine, mother." He told her. Despite the look on his face, his tone was more amused, fond, and longsuffering than anything else.

"You will permit a mother to fret, my son." Frigga told him.

The fact he didn't argue against that declaration was rather telling.

Frigga yanked her attention back to the matter at hand. By the time she had done so, Tony Stark, Captain Rogers and the man that had introduced himself as Charles Xavier had all gathered around the couch she and her sons were sitting on. Captain Rogers and Tony Stark shared a second couch, while Charles Xavier and his wheeled chair settled in the gap between the two couches. Captain Rogers and Charles Xavier both produced things with which to take notes. Frigga presumed that Tony Stark was having his mechanical servant record the meeting for later perusal.

"I should perhaps begin, as I suspect I have the most information to impart." Frigga said.

The others all nodded their agreement to that.

"Very well. Most importantly, all the people of the Nine have been warned. All have pledged their armies to the coming battle. Most have offered further assistance - the making of ships and weapons, since Midgard does not have a space fleet where most of the rest of the Nine do, training to fly them, and combat and magical training if anyone is interested and capable. They have all also expressed interest in meeting Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark, and at least a brief tour of Midgard itself and the solar system, so they know the lay of the land before the battle."

"What sort of numbers and abilities are we looking at?" Captain Rogers wanted to know.

"Wait - you're telling me the other Realms all have *space fleets*?" Tony interrupted to ask, his expression avid.

Frigga almost laughed at that look on Tony's face, but managed not to. "Yes, all of them do, save the Jotuns. The Jotun's space fleet was completely destroyed during the last war with them a bit over a millennium ago."

"And they're willing to build *us* spaceships and teach us to fly them." Tony said, his tone equal parts skeptical and almost reverent.

Captain Rogers and Charles Xavier were by now looking rather amused, as was Loki. Frigga didn't blame them, as Tony Stark's reaction was rather amusing.

"Yes. I would recommend you accept Svartalfheim's offer. They are the best at such things and would be able to build at least ten ships before Thanos arrives. Not a large number I realize, but better than not having anything of your own." Frigga said. "As for numbers and capabilities ... I am afraid that none of the Realms enjoy a population anywhere near that which Midgard boasts. The most populous of the other Realms has a population of roughly five hundred million or so. Their armies are therefore smaller in number than you are probably used to here on Midgard."

"You'd be surprised. We may have an overall larger population but only a couple countries have populations over five hundred thousand. There are a lot of countries on Earth who'd have armies of comparable sizes." Tony said. "And to be frank, it's the small armies you have to watch out for. They make up in vicious and determined what they lack in numbers, generally speaking."

Frigga nodded. "Of the eight Realms other than Midgard, only six are inhabited: Alfheim, Vanaheim, Nidavellir, Vanaheim, Jotunheim and of course Asgard. Muspelheim and Niflheim were both once populated, but their peoples died out a very long time ago, and both Realms are now barren, resource-less rocks of no use to Thanos. There is no water, air, or anything else of use to him on either Realm, so he cannot use them as bases of operation. He'd have to come here to get everything he needed, and that would expose his army to attacks going to and from."

Captain Rogers nodded. "So it'd just be better and easier for him to take us over and have everything he needs right under his boots rather than set a base up elsewhere."

"Precisely." Frigga said.

"Asgard, Alfheim and Vanaheim are the most populous Realms, all three are at or around the five hundred million mark. Alfheim and Vanaheim's armies are about one million strong. They both also have about two hundred ships each, capable of transporting their entire army wherever it needs to go, as well as fighting." Frigga told them.

"As for powers, Alfheim's people are what you would call elves. They are all middle to high powered magic users. All of them capable of, at the very least, fireballs such as you saw Loki employ. Most of them are capable of far more than that, though relatively few match or exceed Loki or myself in magical strength." Frigga said. "They would probably be best put to use as long-range combatants, as while they have strength and durability greater than that which most Midgardians enjoy, they are actually the weakest in those regards of the Realms, as their magical abilities obviated the need for close-range combat for the most part."

Captain Rogers nodded, most of his attention on his writing. He'd begun scribbling notes the moment she'd started talking.

"Vanaheim's people are virtually identical to Asgardians in most respects, though more of them are magically inclined and are stronger magically speaking than Asgardians. Vanaheim magic users are generally middle strength, with the odd high powered person such as myself, and they all tend to specialize in one thing or another - conjuring, or fire control, or water control, for instance."

"So a bit weaker relative to the elves, but put the folks with the right skills in the right places and they'll still pack a heck of a punch." Steve said.

"Quite so. And unlike the elves, Vanaheim's residents are trained in close-range combat. They do not have weapons such as Midgardian guns, but swords, maces, bows and arrows, things of that nature."

Captain Rogers and Tony both nodded, obviously filing that tidbit of information away.

"Would any of them be willing or able to learn to use a gun? It's not like we don't have plenty of the things here, and they generally have better range than even the best bow, but don't tell Hawkeye I said that." Tony asked with a grin.

"Quite possibly they would, yes. They are less sensitive about 'honorable battle' than Asgardians, and would probably appreciate the economy of such weapons." Frigga said.

Tony and Captain Rogers both nodded at that, and Captain Rogers added another note.

"Asgard's actual army is close to three million, with almost five hundred ships. The difference in numbers compared to the other two Realms is due to Asgard being a warrior culture where the other two aren't. That said, virtually the entirety of Asgard's population save the very young, the very old or the badly disabled have at least some degree of combat training and ability. They can be mobilized if it becomes necessary, and the vast majority of them would volunteer for such a battle." Frigga told them

"Asgard has some magic users, but only a few hundred. Of that number, only myself, Loki and perhaps three or four others are as powerful as a Vanaheim magic user, never mind an elf. My greatest strength in magic lies in healing and defense, not offense, which will render me all but useless in the battle." Frigga continued. "Loki will be your greatest asset when it comes to combat-useful magic. He is every bit as strong as I am, and may one day even surpass me. The two of us are the only non-elves I know of who can compete with elves when it comes to magic. All Asgardians, even the magically inclined ones, are trained in close-range combat with the same sorts of weapons as Vanaheim, save for bows and arrows. Asgardians regard long-range weapons of any sort as cowardly." Frigga didn't roll her eyes at that attitude, but her tone conveyed her exasperated distaste for it.

Literally everyone - even Thor, which surprised her - reacted with amusement, disdain, exasperation or like sentiments to that news. Frigga made a mental note to ask Thor later when he'd changed his mind about the issue, and why.

She smiled a little bit, then continued. "Nidavellir is home to those you might call trolls or ogres. They are roughly of a size with your Hulk, and their main abilities are the same as his - extreme strength and durability. Though their intelligence is far greater than I understand is generally attributed to trolls and ogres in Midgard's tales. They're every bit as intelligent as the other races of the Nine." Frigga continued. "Their army is slightly smaller than that of Alfheim and Vanaheim - just barely over one million, and about eighty ships. Which are not capable of transporting their entire army. They are isolationists - it is extremely rare to see one off their home Realm, and due to their strength and durability, the other Realms generally leave them alone as fighting them is a losing proposition even if they manage to win the fight. The potential loss of life is generally judged to not be worth the conquest."

"Huh. Might want to introduce Hulk to them at some point, once we get Hulk to a good place with us." Tony said. "I think he'd like being able to hang out with folks who equal him in ability."

Captain Rogers nodded agreement with that.

"Svartalfheim is home to those you might call dwarves. They have an army of just under one million, but they have a thousand ships, split between small attack craft capable of fighting in space or in atmosphere and enormous ships with enough firepower to shatter planets in an all-out assault. Their entire army is space-based. Their main skill lies in mining and crafting, not physical fighting, so they crafted themselves the most formidable long range weapons and ships they could devise to protect their Realm."

"They sound like my kind of people." Tony said, giving a grin that was all teeth.

"Indeed." Frigga agreed. "They would be quite intrigued with your armor, and probably build their own version of it for themselves to equalize things when it came to close-range fighting."

Frigga eyed Loki before speaking of the last race on the list. After a moment, Loki shot her an exasperated look. "Oh, just get it over with, mother. I won't explode." He snapped.

Frigga didn't quite believe him, but it wasn't like she really had a choice. "Lastly, there is Jotunheim. Their army was decimated in their last war. As I mentioned, they have no ships. Their population is such that they can only afford to send fifty thousand warriors - all of them past the age of reproduction. That is not really a detriment, because according to everything I've heard and read, the older a Jotun gets, the stronger their abilities get. All of them have magic - the same magic. They control water and ice. Water they chill to ice, and ice they shape into whatever they need. Even the youngest and most inexperienced warrior is capable of forming a rough but serviceable ice blade. The older ones can and do get a lot fancier than that."

She sighed. "That said, they will have to be deployed in colder areas, or areas with access to a great deal of water. Jotuns are adapted to extremes of cold to such a degree that they cannot stay somewhere with weather more than about ten degrees above freezing for more than an hour without suffering for it. Unless, of course, they employ their abilities with water and ice to cool themselves off. If they have access to enough water, they can stay in even tropical heat indefinitely."

"So they'd do best in coastal areas near our oceans. Not likely to run out of water there." Captain Rogers said. "And it's not like the water wouldn't go right back into the oceans once it melts, so it wouldn't do any real damage to the oceans." He glanced at Tony. "I don't think? Environmental stuff like that is not exactly my specialty."

"Mine either." Tony admitted. "Though I can sure as hell find out. Worst comes to worst, we stick them in cold mountainous areas like the Alps and shit like that. They'd be right at home there."

"Thor and Loki both have had dealings with all but the Nidavellir, and can advise you on the politics and societal expectations of those groups." Frigga told them. She gestured, and a small stack of unfortunately thin books appeared in her hands. "These books are the information Asgard has on the Nidavellir, which is the best I can do for you in that regard. Even I have only dealt with them twice in my life, so I can tell you very little of them from personal experience. My ... husband ... might have dealt with them more, but I would not trust any information he would have to impart, even were he willing to impart it."

"No shit." Tony muttered. Frigga did not think he intended for her to hear him.

Next to her Loki shifted, and looked a little sheepish. "Actually mother, I have been to Nidavellir." He admitted.

Frigga had suspected - she knew how curious and hungry for knowledge Loki was - but she hadn't been sure. "Well then, a bit more personal experience to work with, at least." She left the books on the table, as even with what she and Loki could tell them from personal experience, they'd need what was in those books.

"There is one last bit of information I need to impart. Each Realm has ... an item. This item is a thing of great power, that can be used to provide power for the Realm and to defend it. You have seen Asgard and Jotunheim's items - Heimdall's sword and the Tesseract, respectively. Midgard has such an item as well. Where it is, I do not know. No one has ever discovered how these items come into existence. Historically, they remain hidden until needed. I believe Midgard's item has been found a few times. Your history is rife with mentions of containers which have incredible powers. The Ark, Holy Grail, Pandora's Box, Cauldron of Dagda, Cup of Jamshid, Eldhrimnir, Pair Dadeni, Nanteos Cup, and magic lamps said to contain genies to name but a few."

"So ... we try to find the thing. With what you're saying, it's not a sword or really anything readily identifiable as a weapon, jewelry, or clothes. Other than that ... it's basically good luck finding it." Tony said.

"I would start in the least populated and most remote areas of your world. Given your population, those are the only places it could have remained hidden for so long." Frigga told them.

"Good point. Would it give off any kind of energy signature that we could track remotely?" Tony asked.

Frigga shook her head. "I do not know, but I sincerely doubt it. I can have Heimdall attempt to find it, but I do not know how successful such an endeavor would be."

"Well, we'll still put it on our to-do list." Captain Rogers said. Then he glanced at Charles Xavier. "You want to go next?" He asked.

"Yes, I probably should." Charles said. "As the Avengers proper have been rather ... busy ... the last two weeks dealing with themselves and the situation to hand." He motioned towards the window, indicating the damage done during the attempted invasion.

Chapter Text

Charles

(_)(_)(_)

Charles had taken full advantage of the time he'd had with the various inhabitants of Stark Tower's upper levels. He'd been rather surprised by his findings.

Steve, of course, was all over the place, grieving and angry on a level Charles hadn't seen since Erik. If Steve were anyone other than who he was, Charles would honestly be very worried, but he knew that Steve would not loose his ire on the undeserving. That said, Charles truly did not envy the persons responsible for James Barnes' current state if and when Steve caught up with them. Logan had been nearly as bad, the situation bringing up all the unresolved issues Logan had with his own very similar situation. Fortunately, Logan was self-aware enough to be making himself scarce so he didn't inadvertently take out his ire on the wrong targets before he got himself back on more even footing.

He hadn't been expecting Natasha Romanov, of all people, to be in very nearly the same mental place as Logan, though she was far better at hiding it than he was. There had been rumors for ... well, a very long time ... regarding the so-called Black Widow. Charles had never met her, and well aware of how out of proportion gossip and rumor could get, had given little to no credence to much of what he'd heard. What was strange was that while she was indeed ... magnificently angry among other emotions ... there was a flat, muffled aspect to her emotions. Almost as if it wasn't quite what she truly felt, but what she thought was expected of her and was applying it to herself accordingly.

The others had all been in fairly predictable places mentally speaking. Charles had done what he could to help them in the limited time he'd had to work with, without using his telepathy.

Sadly, he hadn't gotten a chance to ask the questions he wanted to of Queen Frigga and Loki yet, but he fully intended to before the day was done. The Queen's briefing of the state of affairs in the Nine Realms had been ... quite illuminating ... in and of itself.

Charles sat forward a little bit in his chair as he began his own part of the briefing. "I have a good deal of news to impart as well, the vast majority of it good. And I have a favor I would like to ask of you, Steven, once I've covered the information."

Steve looked understandably curious, but nodded.

"I called a number of mutants and people friendly to mutants of my acquaintance around the world. The only areas I don't have any contacts is Australia and South America, and even at that, my acquaintances have contacts in South America. I've spread the word that we have major trouble coming, and a number of folks have stepped forward to form teams of mutants to cover various areas." He told them

"First and foremost - for those who may not know." Which was everyone save Tony. "Mutations can be broken down into four basic categories, each of which can have innumerable variations and further divisions. They are: Physical, that is, mutations that affect strength, durability, agility, the senses etc. Elemental, which are mutations that permit manipulation of water, fire, rock etc. Mental: this covers mutations like telepathy, telekinesis, and the like. And lastly Energy, which encompasses mutations that involve the control and manipulation of various forms of energy. I'll identify which category a mutant's powers lie in as I go along, as describing the exact parameters of their abilities would take quite some time." Charles said.

Steve nodded. "As long as we get a somewhat more comprehensive list of abilities later, so we know what we're dealing with, I'm fine with just the categories for now."

"Agreed." Frigga said.

Charles sighed a bit in relief. "Thank you, and I will make sure you get that information before I leave. Up first is my own group, the X-Men. There are currently seven fully trained adults on the team including myself, and an additional dozen children over the age of sixteen with sufficient control and powers applicable to combat, and who have shown an interest in fighting. Of the adults, three are Physical, two are Mental, one is Energy and the last is Elemental. Of the children, three are Physical, two are Mental, five are Energy, and two are Elemental." Charles told them.

He was quite sure that Tony, who knew the kids' names and powers, was probably aware of which of the kids Charles was talking about. The others had no idea as regarded the children, and Frigga didn't know the adults, so covering that was necessary. Even at that, the dozen Charles was thinking of were the ones that would absolutely refuse to be left behind - he and Scott both got a lot of arguments from the lot of them to be included in things *now*. There were other children in the mansion of the right age and with combat-applicable powers, but they had never expressed an interest in combat and Charles wasn't about to force the issue, not even for something like this.

"From there, I've go four people here in North America, three based in the States and one in Canada. They each will be able to mobilize not just mutants in their respective areas of influence, but also non-powered individuals."

"First on the list is Jean-Paul Beaubier, the Canadian. He is a Physical, as is his twin sister Aurora. The two of them were quick to affirm they would begin assembling a team of Canadian mutants and in fact Jean-Paul called me just yesterday to let me know they'd gotten two people to sign on already and had several good prospects who were making arrangements for their private lives before they agreed to sign on. The next is Sam Guthrie. He is an Energy, and almost his entire family is comprised of mutants of varying capabilities. He confirmed with me the next morning that they were all on board. And there are a lot of them." Charles smiled, as that was a touch of an understatement when it came to the Guthrie clan. "He is, however, still on the lookout for non-related folks to add to his team."

"John Proudstar is next on the list, and a Native American. He is a Physical. The Native American population is unfortunately small and very insular in the United States. I knew they would not accept a leader from outside their population, which is why I called John." Charles had had enough problems getting through to John himself to know that attempting such on a larger scale would be foolhardy in the time they had before Thanos struck. "I honestly have no idea how many mutants he will find in that community."

"Lastly is Carol Danvers, who is an Air Force pilot based out of Nellis Air Force Base. She is also a Physical. She's going to have to work carefully, as while I have little doubt there are mutants in the military, they must by necessity keep their heads well down."

Charles restrained himself from giving Frigga a narrow-eyed look as he wound down from that part of his report. There was something in her expression. Something pleased and knowing that had him curious and just a touch suspicious. Nor was he the only one in the meeting to pick up on her attitude, as both Tony and Loki were shooting her looks. Steve, while he wasn't giving Frigga looks, was clearly aware of her expression if the frown he was leveling at his notebook was any indication. The temptation to brush her mind and see what had her looking like that was enormous, but even if Charles had been less scrupulous in his use of his mutation, he'd not want to muck about with an alien mind. Who knew what would happen?

"I've not heard any word from Carol, but I have little doubt of success in her quest. She will probably call within the next week or so to let me know how things are going. I had not anticipated hearing from John for at least a month, but he called me back the day after I called to warn him, and told me about someone in Brazil that might be open to forming a team to defend the planet. Evidently they are a friend of someone John knows in the Native American community. All I know at present is that his name is Roberto de Costa. I've arranged to meet him early next week, at which point I can call Tony and let him know more."

Everyone nodded.

"In Europe, I have Pete Wisdom, who is an Energy. He is one of the older mutants among my contacts, being only a few years younger than Tony. He works for the government of the United Kingdom. I've received confirmation from him that the UK has lost no time in preparing for a potential second invasion, even without knowing one was coming. Apparently, someone decided that the first attempt was by way of being a test, and resolved to make anyone stupid enough to invade the United Kingdom very sorry for it."

"They would not be entirely wrong." Loki said, speaking for the first time. "Though *he* intended to take the whole planet in the one try, the initial contact and response would have served as a test for how the rest of the invasion would have gone."

Charles nodded, and spotted Steve doing the same out of the corner of his eye. It made sense, tactically speaking. "Pete told me that he more or less had a team already - nothing official, of course, nor even as tightly knit or centralized as the X-Men, but a number of mutants that had noticed antagonistic mutants causing trouble and set out to stop them. At some point, they ran into each other and things went from there."

"Betsy Braddock is the next on the list, and a Mental. I'm unsure if she'll form a team, as she prefers to work solo, but she is at least warned. Sean Cassidy is the third, and a Physical." Well, not really. Sean and his daughters' mutations were one of the odd ones - equal parts physical alteration - to lung capacity, vocal chords, and hearing - energy and mental, but he could explain that later. "And like Pete, one of the older mutants of my acquaintance. He's promised to begin scouring Ireland for prospects."

"The last of the Europe contacts isn't a mutant at all." Charles told them. "Nor a potential combatant. Her name is Dr. Moira McTaggert. She will be invaluable in locating medical personnel who can handle the oddities that mutants bring to the table medically speaking and who will at least have the potential to deal with our off-world allies as well, as she is quite well known and respected."

"Oh. That's good." Steve said. "We're ... going to need that when this is all over. A lot of people are going to get hurt."

Charles nodded in agreement with Steve. "I only have one contact in Africa, but in this case, I really only need the one. His name is King T'challa of Wakanda. He recently took the throne after his father's untimely death. He is a Physical, and it seems to run in the family from father to son. The sovereigns of Wakanda have been renowned since time immemorial for their physical feats and respected around the world for their ferocity in protecting their country. He'll rally the entire continent to keep Thanos and the Chitauri from gaining a foothold in Africa."

"I have two contacts in Asia." Charles sighed. "One of whom is going to be ... problematic. Shiro Yashida is Japanese and has ... shall we say a less than congenial personality? He is an Energy ... and utterly convinced he is, by virtue of being Japanese, superior to everyone not also born Japanese. That said, he will fight to the death to keep Japan from being subjugated."

"He'll just annoy the holy hell out of us whenever we have to interact with him." Tony said.

"Unfortunately, yes." Charles said.

"I shall work with him, then." Loki said. "I am not called Silvertongue for nothing. I'll have him eating out of my hand in short order."

Charles wasn't going to argue against that. The less friction there was, the better. "My other contacts in Asia are the family of one of my students, and one of the potential under-age combatants, Piotr Rasputin. His elder brother, Mikhail, is a cosmonaut who has worked on the international space station. How he's hidden his status as a mutant I don't know. He is an Energy and, truly, in the best position to feel out any mutants in the former Soviet Union and beyond."

Charles didn't bother mentioning Pietro, Wanda, and Lorna. While the three of the twins had promptly hauled Lorna into their orbit, the triad were understandably leery of forming a team beyond the three of them. Anyone who knew - or found out - who their father was was liable to assume the worst of any team they put together, and Charles wasn't going to put them through that. Not even any of his X-Men knew who their father was, though Scott, Jean, and Hank had all met the twins. Charles had deliberately avoided letting any of them meet Lorna, because his 'children' weren't stupid, and would instantly suspect Lorna's parentage the moment they discovered what her power was. While Lorna was more or less the exact opposite of her father in temperament and outlook, the X-Men had had too many unfortunate dealings with Erik to ever be comfortable working with a daughter of his with an identical power.

And speaking of Erik.

"That is my list, and I will make sure you all have the details, as well as the overview, before I leave." Charles said. Then he sighed. "Which brings me to that favor I would ask of you, Steve. If you cannot in good conscience *do* the favor once I've explained, I will completely understand and abide by your decision."

Charles almost wanted to laugh because Tony was already giving him a narrow-eyed, suspicious look. Steve, on the other hand, still looked curious more than anything.

"There is someone I would like for you to talk to." Charles started. And that was all it took for Tony's suspicion to blossom into knowing.

"Charles, are you out of your fucking mind?" Tony barked.

Charles glanced at him. "Tell me we couldn't use him, if he could be talked around."

Tony snorted. "Of course we could, but he can't. He's hell and gone away from ... yeah. No. Not happening."

Steve looked between them, frowning slightly. Then his eyes shot wide before his expression went thunderous. "Wait, is this about ... what'd Rogue say his name was again? ... Magneto, that was it. Is he who you're talking about?"

"Yes." Charles admitted. "Which is why I said if you couldn't go through with talking to him, I'd abide by it. Erik ... has done many horrible things, this I will not even begin to deny. But I have never stopped believing he could be ... brought around to a better way of thinking." Charles glanced down at his hands for a moment. "He was a survivor of the camps, Steve. And while he never actually confirmed it to me, I strongly suspect he came into his power in those camps."

Unsaid, but understood by the three humans went the knowledge that if that was true, Erik would have been in for an even worse hell on earth than most of the concentration camp victims had been. Zola hadn't been the only one experimenting on people, after all, and a mutant - any mutant, never mind one with Erik's abilities - would have been in a world of trouble.

"He knows exactly how low humans can sink when it comes to people they don't like or are afraid of. It ... well, made him go off the deep end a bit. I tried to help him when I first met him, but back then I wasn't trained to deal with psychological trauma so there was only so much good I could do. And he refused to go to a trained professional because he didn't want to reveal his status as a mutant. By the time I'd gotten the training necessary to help him, our friendship, rocky as it had been, had fallen apart and he dismissed me as an optimistic fool and wouldn't hear a word I had to say." Well, it had been more complicated than that, of course, but that had been the upshot of the whole mess.

Charles sighed. "I honestly don't know if anyone can get through to him at this late stage, but if anyone can it would be you, Steve." He didn't have to clarify why. "If he can be brought around, we could really use him. He's one of the strongest mutants on the planet that I know of."

"What is it he can do that would make him so valuable to the fight?" Frigga asked.

"He can control metal - any metal - and magnetic fields." Charles said. "Insofar as I know, he's never found a limit to what he can do. He'd be able to flatten entire waves of Chitauri with little effort. That is the only reason I'm even entertaining the notion of trying to talk him around."

Tony still looked mutinous, and Steve was frowning heavily. Frigga's eyebrows were headed for her hairline, but she looked like she at least understood why Charles was advocating for dealing with Erik now.

"I'll ... I'll think about it." Steve said.

"That is more than I could have asked for, Steve." Charles said.

"Perhaps I should talk to him." Loki said, surprising Charles. "After all, I know what it is to be shunned and reviled, and to want revenge. Not to mention giving in to that desire."

If it had been anyone else, Charles would have warned them about Erik's ... way with words. Given this was Loki, Charles had a feeling Erik would have met his match. Steve, he didn't have to worry about so much as the man was incorruptible. Even the most fleeting brush against Steve's mind had told Charles that.

Chapter Text

Steve

(_)(_)(_)

Academically and intellectually, Steve knew he was a mess right now. Mostly, though, he really didn't care about academics or intellect right at the moment. He was too busy trying to deal with the emotional end of things.

His emotions were all over the place. One moment, he felt like curling up into the tiniest ball humanly possible and crying his heart out. The next, it was all he could do to keep himself from storming out of the Tower in search of a target he could rip to shreds in rage. Others, he was all but paralyzed by grief and horror.

Not to mention the (as Charles had put it) whiny teenager part of him that kind of just wanted people to go away and let him do all of that in peace. To not remind him he had responsibilities of any kind. At the same time, that self-same 'responsible leader' part of him had made a point of poking at him and reminding him he did indeed need to, you know, go be a leader. And as much as part of him didn't want to, he'd acknowledged Charles' point and more or less forced himself into that mode.

It helped that forcing himself to think tactically and as a leader muted the rest, at least for now. Though he really didn't know what to think of Charles' request that he go talk to Magneto. Steve understood that someone with that kind of power on their side would be a hell of an asset, and he was even sympathetic to the damage that had to have been done to the man physically and mentally, surviving the camps, but at the same time, he'd gone and done some really horrible things. So he'd have to really think about trying to approach the guy. Then again, it might just be the best idea. As bad as this fight was probably going to get, Steve wasn't going to bet on Magneto staying wherever he'd been put. The odds of the place taking damage enough that Magneto could get out were pretty good. Better, in that case, to at least try to talk the guy into being a decent person.

Steve shoved those thoughts away. He'd deal with the Magneto problem a little later.

"Ok, I have some questions." He said. "Frigga, do you have any idea what sort of force we're looking at?"

Frigga shook her head. "Heimdall watches, but the enemy does not march in ordered ranks, which makes counting their numbers all but impossible. All he can say for certain is that there is but one - albeit massive - ship proper in Thanos' army - probably carrying him. Aside from that, there are many thousands, perhaps even millions, of the large, armored fliers that I believe you have taken to calling space whales. How many they carry, we do not know."

"We'll have an answer for that soonish." Tony said. "The ones that managed to make it here during the invasion were all cut into parts to be dissected and examined. It won't be all that long before we have a carrying capacity and all that jazz."

Steve nodded. "That's good to know. Anything else coming at us, and any guesses as to the size of the ship?"

Frigga actually grimaced a bit, which surprised Steve. "An innumerable host of the smaller three-man sleds." She said. "As for the size of the ship ... " She frowned for a moment, evidently trying to translate measures in her head. "Roughly the size of three or four of your largest sea-going ships put together, I believe."

"Ouch. Not good." Tony said.

"Tony?" Steve asked. He had no idea how big ships were these days.

"Well, let me put it this way. The largest seagoing ship ever built - that we know of for sure - was the Seawise Giant. And she was fifteen hundred feet long and two hundred and twenty five wide." Tony told him.

Steve grimaced. Three of those put together? Was a bit on the big side. He glanced over at Frigga. "That sound about right?"

"As close as I can be sure of." Frigga said. "Heimdall has only been able to guess at the ship's size as there is little other than the space whales to compare it to."

"Fair enough." Steve said. "Next question - Do you have any idea of Thanos' abilities?"

"He was - is - intelligent in the extreme." Frigga said. "Of old, he was capable of many powers of the mind, such as telepathy and telekinesis. Those powers were, supposedly, stripped from him when he was banished. Whether they were just not successfully removed or he regained them somehow, I do not know. Beyond that, he was durable and strong on a level that made even the Nidavellir seem as newborn babes. What powers and abilities he now has, I cannot say."

Yeesh. As bad as Steve had figured this fight was going to be, it was sounding like it would actually be worse. Well, nothing for it. It was either defeat Thanos - soundly - or no more Earth.

"Gotcha. Well, at least we have somewhere to start anyway." Steve told her, then glanced at Tony. "Tony, how long will you need to work up schematics for that arm?" His voice got a little tight at the last word of the sentence, because he was trying very hard not to think about who the arm would be going on, because if he thought about that ... he'd be right back to wanting to cry or kill someone.

Tony turned to Frigga and started asking questions of his own. These, though, were about Asgard's metalworking facilities. Steve was pleased with himself when he was able to follow most of that discussion. While there was no chance in heck he'd understand most of the stuff Bruce and Jane talked about anytime soon - he wasn't dumb but it would take him time to understand that stuff - most of what Tony did Steve could follow. He didn't have a chance in heck of *doing* about ninety nine percent of what Tony did, but he at least understood a lot of it when Tony talked about it.

"With schematics of the original to work with, and the stuff I've done for the suit, it'll only take me a couple days at most to get something worked out and the electronics programmed." Tony told him. "I'll want to bring metals from Earth just in case, and definitely the electronics that'll go into the arm, but I can do the actual building of the arm in Asgard."

Steve nodded. "Ok." He went quiet for a minute, chewing on the information he'd been given and trying to work up some sort of plan and timeline to get things done. After a minute, he nodded.

"So ... here's the plan. Once we're done here, Charles and Loki head downstairs to have a chat with that Belova woman. Jarvis." He glanced up as he called that name. "Can start tracking down mentions of containers of power and their last known locations so we at least have somewhere to start looking for that, and track down information on ... " He choked on the actual words.

"On who did that shit to Barnes and where the hell they are now." Tony finished for him.

Steve shot him a grateful look. "Yeah, that. You." He nodded to Tony. "Can work on the arm for the next few days, and in between bouts of that, you, Thor, Loki and I can go over the stuff dealing with the heads of the other Realms, their cultures and all of that. Once the schematics are ready, the entire team plus Cecelia and Hank head for Asgard."

"From there, we try a meet-and-greet with Hulk. Depending on how *that* goes, we either table working with him for later or jump right in and start training." Steve said.

"Wait, add Charles to the list if we're going to work with Hulk. He'll be able to tell us just how much Hulk understands, which will reduce problems on that end at least." Tony said. "Oh! And Betty. She'd be thoroughly pissed at us if we did this without her on hand."

Steve blinked, then nodded. "Right, yeah. Good idea. I don't really think he'll be a problem - he sure didn't give us any grief during the fight - but the less we irritate him, even by accident, the better. And Betty has said she can get him to behave without a problem, so if things go awry for some reason, we'd need her."

From the expression on Charles' face, he definitely wasn't going to quibble about the opportunity to go to another world. Not that Steve really blamed him. Despite the reason they'd gone to Asgard, even Steve'd been more than a little excited about the whole 'alien world in space' thing.

"We let Tony build the arm and have the Asgardian medics do the switch with Hank and Cecelia on hand for any problems." As well as get the rest of the crap out of ... where it didn't belong. But the less Steve thought about that the better. "Then Tony, myself and either Thor, Loki or both do a tour of the Realms to talk to the leaders. I want to go to Svartalfheim first." Steve told them. He nodded at Frigga. "You said they'd be the best to go to for spaceships of our own, right?"

"Yes, they would." Frigga confirmed.

"Right, so the sooner we talk to them and negotiate that, the better. Whoever ends up crewing the things will need time to learn how to do that, after all." Steve reasoned.

While he hoped Loki would go to all the Realms with them, he rather thought Loki would skip out the Jotunheim visit. Which would probably end up being a good thing, if his reaction to Farbauti was anything to go by. Not that Steve really blamed the guy, but that kind of ... well, there really wasn't any other way to call it except seething hatred ... did not make for good or peaceful meetings.

Oh! Speaking of meetings!

"Tony, did you ever talk to Fury about officially warning the planet's governments that Thanos and the Chitauri were coming?"

Tony looked blank for half a second before cursing quietly. "Shit. No. I forgot about that. I'll do it yet tonight. Jarvis, do NOT let me forget about that."

"I will ensure you are reminded, Sir." Jarvis said.

"Don't worry about it too much, Tony. It's not like we've exactly had a nice, easy, peaceful time the last couple weeks - and that's without having to run a company on top of everything else that's been going on." Steve told him.

"That's the immediate stuff. We also need to train - with or without Hulk, depending on how he reacts to the Asgard attempt - and I'd really like to train at least a little with the X-Men." Steve told them.

"Not that I object, but may I ask why?" Charles asked.

"I'm thinking your people and the Avengers will probably form the main, direct attack on Thanos himself. The other teams will be needed to keep things to a dull roar with the Chitauri. Speaking of, when you talk to that Shiro fella, Loki? Make sure you talk him into protecting more than just Japan. I remember Tony saying that China and India are the most heavily populated spots on the planet. I figure we'll need Shiro's group and whoever Mikhail pulls together to work that area, plus whoever else we can get into workable teams, whether from the Realms or Earth."

"Which is another point. We're going to have to arrange tours of Earth and the solar system, like Frigga mentioned when we talk to the Realm's leaders. Though how we're going to organize the space end of the fight, I haven't figured yet. I mean, I trust the individual leaders to deal with their people but we're going to have six groups of ships under six different leaders up there, and a whole lot of territory to cover. Which has the potential to be a real mess unless the leaders work it out beforehand." Steve blew out a breath. Yeah, they had a lot to do before Thanos showed up.

"I also want to meet the folks you talked about, Charles. At least with the Europe and North America groups, we're going to have to iron out who covers what areas so no one gets confused. And introduce them to their out-world help and let everyone get used to each other. Which means we'll need to meet with the Earth folks before the Realm folks get their tour of Earth proper. That way, as we're showing them around, we can introduce them to the folks who will be acting as their leaders due to familiarity with the territory."

Steve wound down and mentally counted items off, trying to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Like he'd told Tony, things had been a little nuts the last couple weeks.

"I *think* that's everything." He said after a few moments, then quirked a half-smile. "Though with our luck, we'll be getting stuff dropped in our laps unexpectedly along the way."

"I fear I already have a new item to add to the list of things to do." Jarvis said. "Miss Ross contacted a friend of hers in the mental health profession, and he has recommended someone with several years of experience working with combat veterans and ex prisoners of war. I have examined his available online file and believe he would be a good fit to work with not only Sergeant Barnes, but the rest of the team as well."

Tony shot the ceiling a glare that rather amused Steve for reasons he couldn't immediately identify. "Oh really."

"Yes. He is a combat veteran himself, honorably discharged several years ago after the death of his wingman. After dealing with that loss, he became a counselor himself and has been working in various VA centers on a volunteer basis. Miss Ross' friend, I believe the expression is 'felt him out' and he was amenable to working with a specific group full-time, though the details of who, exactly, he'd potentially be working with were not included in the discussion."

Steve cocked his head. "Sounds pretty good, actually." He admitted. "So ... add interviewing him with an eye to hiring him on to the list? And what's his name?"

"Samuel Wilson."

Chapter Text

Bobby and Peter

(_)(_)(_)

It was really good seeing Rogue and John again after the snafu at the mansion. Bobby had hated it that they left. As much as John had annoyed him from time to time, they'd been best friends for years now, and skin issues be damned, he *really* liked Rogue and kind of hoped they could make something work between them. He might not be quite as creative as some folks, but he could think of a few ways around the skin issue if Rogue was ever willing to risk going further than hand-holding and the like. And even if she wasn't ... well, Bobby figured he could handle that too. He knew that was a bit odd coming from a teenage boy, but dealing with his mutation and being friends with John had ensured he grew up a bit faster than the norm.

Much as he missed them, he had to admit that leaving the mansion was doing John some good. He looked ... looser. Happier. Bobby could sort of understand why. While he knew the rough outline of what John's life had been like before the Professor had found him, he didn't know all the details. The part of his life that had caused the most problems for John was the fact that John had learned young to not trust or depend on adults. Period. So having a bunch of adults trying to regulate his life and all that had ... worn on him.

Evidently, the Avengers were a lot more willing to treat him as an adult. Which made sense, because the Avengers weren't trying to run a boarding school and acting as loco parentis for a bunch of kids. That said, Bobby would be a long time forgiving Jean. She was having a hell of a time getting hot water anywhere in the mansion (among other problems) at the moment. Bobby had gotten a few disappointed looks from the Professor for doing it, but Bobby was ignoring that. Jean deserved a lot worse than ice cold showers in his books.

Bobby deliberately pushed those sorts of thoughts aside as he listened to Rogue filling him in on everything that had happened. Hell, even John was chatty, which was unusual. And boy did they have a lot to tell him. Seemed like there hadn't been a dull moment in the Tower since they arrived. Bobby seriously debated kissing Tony for supplying Rogue with stuff that made dealing with her mutation easier. When the offer was made for them to sit in on the conference or whatever, the three of them debated.

"I kind of want to." John admitted. "But at the same time not. I mean, this is really early days stuff, you know? Later on, when they really get into the tactics and shit, I definitely want to sit in but I doubt there'll be much of that today, or if there is, it'll mostly be about the folks ... " He waved a hand skyward, indicating the rest of the Realms (and wasn't that a trip and a half in and of itself, Bobby thought).

Rogue had less interest in the battle plans than John did, and Bobby kind of agreed with John, so they opted to head out and either have some fun or help with the repairs and rebuilding in the area around the Tower. There were still quite a number of groups of local and out of state volunteers running around hauling debris and fixing stuff. They would be around for probably at least another month before they ran out of stuff that just anyone could do, and all that was left was the stuff you needed training to do.

They ended up two blocks over and one block up from the Tower, near one of the skyscrapers that had taken a lot of damage - and thus had a lot of crap around it that needed cleaning up, even two weeks later. It was late enough in the day when they started that there were a bunch of other teenagers their age among the volunteers, helping with the cleanup after school let out. Some of them were locals, but several were from out of town and two were from out of state, which Bobby thought was kind of wild. The two out-of-staters claimed to be eighteen and out of school - and one of the two was a big bruiser that almost gave Piotr a run for his money size-wise so they might not even be lying. And really, even if they were, it wasn't like Bobby was going to squeal. They were here because they wanted to help.

He and John fell right back into their habit of trash-talking and giving each other shit as they worked, which got them both a lot of amused eye-rolls from Rogue. Before too long the entire group was laughing and joking and trash-talking each other as they worked. But after a while, Bobby noticed something.

It was one of the locals - a weedy kid a year or so younger than Bobby who looked like he weighed all of a hundred pounds soaking wet and wearing fairly thick glasses. Basically, the kid looked like a stereotypical geek. Nothing wrong with that of course - Bobby was a bit of a geek himself, and friends with a few. What caught Bobby's attention was that every once in a while, said weedy kid would do something ... off. Lift something that someone that skinny shouldn't be able to, twist or move in a way that was odd and just generally twanging Bobby's 'mutant' radar every now and again.

The third time it happened, Bobby shot John a look. They exchanged a few looks, and John nodded. So yeah, he'd noticed it too. Bobby glanced over at Rogue and once he'd gotten her attention twitched his head in the weedy kid's direction. It took a bit more work to convey what he wanted to because they hadn't known each other anywhere near as long as Bobby had known John, but after a minute, she got it. She nodded too.

(_)(_)(_)

It had taken Peter several days to figure out how he felt about not having been in Manhattan when all heck broke loose. Eventually, he decided he was grateful. As much as he would have liked to have helped with the fight, that just had disaster written all over it. He'd barely had his powers for a month - was still figuring out what exactly he could do and what he couldn't. Not to mention the odds of him ending up with more than a few bruises he could explain away as bullies being bullies had been astronomically high. Aunt May had *no idea* anything had changed for Peter. He had no delusions about keeping her ignorant permanently, but having her find out because he'd gotten broken into itty bitty pieces by alien invaders just weeks after ... well, after ... that would not have gone over well. At all.

He'd given her enough grief. She didn't need more.

She'd had absolutely no problem with him going into Manhattan to help with the cleanup. He was pretty sure she was around here somewhere herself. She was probably dishing out food and drink to the cleanup volunteers and the folks who'd been deprived of their homes thanks to the fight. Provided, that was, she hadn't been talked out of doing the cleanup due to her age by some well-meaning soul. Though if she set out to do actual cleanup and not feed people, Peter wasn't about to bet on her being forced into feeding people. Aunt May could be pretty fierce.

Today, he'd joined a group of teenagers from the City and several suburbs around it - and two guys from out of state, one of whom looked like he could have twisted the alien invaders into pretzels bare-handed. They'd been at it for about an hour when three more teenagers wandered over and joined the group. It was pretty clear that the three of them were friends - the two guys had the air of people who'd been friends for years, with the girl being a newer addition.

And they quickly became a problem.

Peter was new enough to his abilities that he still had a heck of a time regulating his strength and acting like the weak geek he still looked like. Though that was largely thanks to clothes a size or so too big that hid just how muscular he'd become. Everything felt so light to him now that it made it hard to judge what pre-powers Peter would have been able to lift and haul. He tried to err on the side of caution, but evidently he'd judged wrong a few times or something.

Because all three of the new teens were giving him funny looks. And then they sort of started trying to separate him from the herd. Oh, they were subtle about it, but Peter noticed. Weirdly, that thing where he picked up on danger wasn't happening. So either they didn't mean him harm or that ability wasn't as reliable as it really ought to be.

Knowing that if things got hairy he could get out pretty easily, he let them herd him far away enough from the other teens that a quiet conversation wouldn't be overheard. Not far enough away he couldn't yell for help, he noticed. Which was a point in the 'not up to no good' category.

"Hey man. I'm Bobby, this is John, and that's Rogue." One of the guys said.

"Rogue?" Peter couldn't help but ask.

"I'm going through a rebel phase." Rogue said.

Well, the way she was dressed? He could almost believe that. She had an almost goth look going. Not all black, but layers and gloves and such that if they had been black would have fit - or nearly so - the goth look. Plus that white streak in her hair.

"M'name's Peter." He told them. Which was safe enough because there had to be a few hundred or more Peters in New York City. Good luck finding him in particular with just that to go on.

"You're pretty strong for such a little guy." This from John.

Awww shit. Well, here went nothing. "Hey, what can I say? I eat my Wheaties." Peter told them. He didn't think they'd buy it but he had to try.

The two guys looked at each other. "Huh. Maybe that explains Piotr? A bit too much of a Wheaties fan?" Bobby asked John.

"Nah. They just grow 'em big in Russia. They got enough room for it." John said. Then he pinned Peter with a look. "Look, Peter. I ain't one for beating around the bush, so I'm gonna play this straight. You're stronger than you ought to be."

Behind him, Bobby and Rogue were both rolling their eyes. Bobby made an exasperated noise and muttered John's name. John ignored him and kept going.

"So I'm thinking maybe you have some special skills. You're not the only one with them."

John shot a look over his shoulder at the rest of the teenage crew, then pulled a Zippo out of his pocket and lit it up. Then pulled the flame *into his hand* and rolled it around his hand briefly before closing his hand on the flame. When he opened his hand, the flame was gone.

Peter couldn't help but stare for a minute. He'd heard of mutants of course - you couldn't *not* unless you lived under a rock these days. But to his knowledge, he'd never met one until now. As powers went, this one was ... pretty spectacular and not a little alarming.

"I dunno if you got a handle on what you can do or not. If you don't ... well, there's folks that can help with that. Hell, even if you just want to be around folks like you, you'd be welcome." John told him.

Part of Peter just wanted to laugh this off and tell them they were seeing things. Another part of him worried that if/when they found out he wasn't a mutant - at least, not in the strictest definition of the word (that being, born with powers that manifest at some point) - that they'd tell him to go away. But the rest of him? Really kind of wanted to accept what the three of them were offering. Because yeah, he was still getting a handle on what he could do, and having someplace he could figure that out safely would be really, really nice.

"I'm not saying you're right." Peter said. "But if you were ... ?"

"Come by Stark Tower, and tell Jarvis you're a friend of ours. Me'n Rogue live there." John said. "We ... have friends in high places, you might say. We can give you a hand."

Stark Tower? Friends in high places? Peter tried not to go all googly eyed at the implications. Did John mean they knew the Avengers? That they knew *Tony Stark*? Peter would happily forfeit a body part for even an hour of that man's time. And rumors were going around that none other than Dr. Bruce Banner was in the Tower, too. If that was true ... well. Peter figured he could be forgiven for having a nerdgasm. Because as much as he would love to get an hour of Mr. Stark's time, he'd give literally everything he owned to have that much time with Dr. Banner.

"I ... I'll think about it." Peter told them. Then he bolted. Because there was no way he could hang around the three of them the rest of the day and not, you know, make an idiot of himself.

He had a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter Text

Soldier and Steve

(_)(_)(_)

Soldier was left to his own devices for a while. That had never really happened in the past. Someone was always there, giving orders, punishing him, training him, recalibrating him. Something. Under other circumstances, with another person - or just someone who WAS a person, rather than a weapon with aspirations of being human, there might have been worry and anxiety and even fear. But Soldier simply stood stolidly in place in the absence of orders.

He had a raging headache from all the thinking he'd been doing. He had entirely too many questions and not a single answer to be found anywhere. Even if one of the Avengers had been in the room with him, he would not have dared to ask any of the questions rumbling around in his head. Just contemplating actually speaking when speech wasn't a necessity made him break out in a cold sweat, never mind daring to question someone who was even nominally in charge of him. If weapons had emotions, he'd be terrified at the idea.

Come to think of it, he kind of was anyway. More and more over the last couple hours, he'd started to think of himself as ... well, something other than a weapon. He wasn't sure he was a person - didn't people have names, and other stuff like that? - but he was becoming surer by the minute that he was more than just a weapon. With that realization had begun to come more human-like things like having emotions about things.

Top of the list being frustration at his inability to remember *anything* prior to about two weeks ago. At least, not for sure. He kept getting flashes of things, but he had no idea if they were memories or something else entirely. Most of those flashes centered around a skinny, short blonde kid. Soldier still had no idea who that might be or even if they'd really existed, but if they had, they'd been damned important.

After a while, Captain America and Loki showed back up. Captain America had a shiny foil packet and a bottle of oddly-colored liquid in his hands. This time, though, there was no attempt to restrain him. Loki did, however, hold up a hand, palm towards Soldier and let a wide swath of green-gold energy flicker - the same stuff Soldier had seen him use to restrain him.

Message received. He wasn't being held down, but he wasn't going to be able to attack them, either. Whatever that stuff was and however Loki did it, not even the Arm had managed to make it give. Not that he wanted to attack them. Which was still odd, because that was his mission. Or it had been. To kill these people. He was still trying to figure out why he was defying that order. Though maybe that faint hope of better treatment was justification enough.

As he'd noted, he had way too many questions and not a single answer.

"Sit on the bed." Loki said, in a tone that made it really clear he was used to his orders being obeyed.

Soldier's body more or less moved without his direction, instantaneously obeying that tone of voice. He was sitting on the bed before he even had a chance to really register what was said. Behind Loki, Captain America's face was a study in horrified dismay.

Soldier wondered why that bothered him so much. Question number three hundred and seventy five out of about a thousand.

At that point, it became clear why Loki had not restrained him but had made a point of reminding Soldier that he could stop him in his tracks. Captain America approached, opening both the bottle and the foil packet. Once opened, the foil packet was placed on the bed.

"Eat the contents of the packet." Loki commanded again.

Soldier noticed Captain America's cringe, but again, he was obeying the order before he'd really registered what was said, never mind had time to decide if he wanted to actually do that. Not that he would presume to second guess one of his controllers. That way lay immense pain and suffering.

The packet's contents proved to be a bar - pretty similar to the rations he'd been given over the last two weeks by his *other* controllers. Grain, nuts, bits of fruit and something sweet that glued the lot together. He chomped through the bar in about three bites.

That growing part of him that was more 'person' than 'weapon' duly noted he could actually use more than just the one bar, but there was no way in hell he'd say something. Even if extraneous speaking hadn't been beaten out of him, admitting to things like hunger, thirst, and pain had. Oh, he still registered them - mostly pain. Hunger and thirst didn't usually impinge on his awareness until they got to a point where they'd compromise a mission. As much as his previous controllers had tried, they hadn't been able to make him as immune to pain as he was to hunger and thirst. Possibly because pain indicated a malfunction that might compromise the mission and thus needed to be dealt with.

"Drink the liquid." Loki commanded. Again, Soldier obeyed instantly.

That done, Captain America took the empty foil packet and drink container and backed off.

"Lie down on the bed." Loki commanded. "And go to sleep."

Soldier immediately obeyed the first half of that directive, lying as stiff as a plank on his back, arms straight at his sides. The second half? Baffled him. Sleep? What the hell was that? Still, the two of them didn't seem to notice or care that he didn't obey the second half of the command. They just made their way out of the room.

(_)(_)(_)

It turned out that Steve had, in fact, forgotten something in his list of things that needed to be done. Though in fairness to him, he'd both been a little out of sorts when the subject got brought up and didn't have the training to understand the implications.

What he'd forgotten to account for in his plans was the fact that there had been a half-day or so of the drugs left in Bucky's arm. This oversight came to his notice less than an hour after the meeting broke up.

"Captain Rogers, Drs. McCoy and Reyes both indicate your presence is required in the quarantine lab." Jarvis piped up.

Steve bolted for the stairs and thundered down them as fast as he could move. Fast enough that he beat the exodus of the others on the common floor via the elevator. The moment he barged through the stairwell door onto the quarantine lab level, he swiveled around to find Hank and Cecelia.

"What is it?"

"He's ... " Cecelia started, only to stop when the elevator door opened and about a half dozen people spilled out. "He's burning through the last of the drugs. Starting to sweat. We have no idea what's going to happen from here, but if the drugs are there to help suppress his memory ... "

"Having me here might help." Steve said.

Steve wasn't quite sure if he wanted that to be the case or not. On the one hand - Bucky would remember. On the other hand ... Bucky would remember. Frigga might have made it so Bucky wouldn't shatter under the weight of the memories but a big part of Steve wanted to spare Bucky from remembering what had been done to him and what he'd been forced to do.

The next hour or so, Steve spent pacing and watching a computer screen of the inside of the lab. Bucky had still been lying down from Loki's last order to him (Steve hadn't been able to bring himself to give Bucky orders under these circumstances. Thank goodness Loki had no such compunctions). The sensors in the lab made it pretty clear that Bucky was not having a good time. Steve couldn't read all the indicators, but his heart rate and breathing speed were through the roof, as was his sweating. According to the docs, pretty much everything in Bucky's body was either through the roof or through the floor. Despite that, Bucky was laying almost perfectly still save for a couple of apparently involuntary twitches.

About an hour in, they figured out what the drugs had been for. Because Bucky started to shake violently and make this high-pitched, scared-to-death sounding whine that broke Steve's heart. About five minutes after that, Bucky abruptly sat up, wild-eyed and still shaking like a leaf, and scrambled off the bed and into a corner of the room, curling in on himself defensively. All while still making that high-pitched whine.

That did it. Steve didn't care if Bucky ended up clocking him one, he could *not* just stand here and watch his best friend be that terrified. Before anyone could stop him, he slapped his hand on the control panel for the door and squeezed into the room the second the door cracked open. Cecelia and Hank both tried to tell him to stop - Hank even made a grab for him but Steve managed to twist away at the last second.

It was Bucky. Bucky hurt beyond the telling of it and scared out of what was left of his mind. Steve couldn't *not* go to him and do what he could to make the situation better.

Bucky heard the door, and his head snapped up. He looked utterly terrified, but for whatever reason he let Steve approach. Steve stopped a good five feet away and crouched down, trying to make himself a little less intimidating.

"Hey. It's ok. You're safe here. No one is *ever* going to hurt you again." And that was equal parts threat (to anyone dumb enough to try to hurt Bucky) and promise. Because God help him, Steve would not hesitate to tear the world apart if ...

Yeah, better he not think about that. Being that pissed off would not help right now. Might actually make things worse if Bucky thought the anger was aimed at him.

"It's ok. You're safe. I promise."

Steve lost track of how many times he said those words over the next ten or fifteen minutes, doing his best to keep his voice calm and soothing, though it cracked a few times. For a miracle, it seemed to work, at least a little. Or maybe it was just the fact that no one had thus far hurt Bucky. Whatever the case, the shaking gradually eased off, and his heart rate, while it never quite went down to 'normal', did drop down from where it had been, according to Cecelia, who kept him informed about Bucky's status medically speaking.

Steve was grateful for the official word, but it'd been clear to him that Bucky was calming down some. He was still a little wild-eyed, and Steve didn't dare move *at all* because he got the distinct impression that the relative calm would shatter into pieces at the first unexpected move. That said, he'd uncurled from his defensive pose a little bit and wasn't jammed as far into the corner as humanly possible anymore.

He also hadn't stopped staring at Steve the entire time. And around and under the fear, for the first time, Steve saw something else - curiosity. In the face of either no emotions at all or sheer blind terror, seeing that curiosity gave Steve a much needed shred of hope.

Clearly, the drugs had been suppressing Bucky's emotions. Which sort of made sense. Whatever else had gone on, it was pretty clear the folks who'd done this to Bucky had been forced to use pretty extreme measures to control him. If Bucky didn't have any emotions, he wouldn't resent his treatment or anything along those lines and attempt to break free of his controllers.

"Why?"

Steve wasn't sure which of them had the bigger heart attack. Bucky flinched like he'd been shot, curled back up and started shaking again after the word escaped him. Steve wasted about a half a minute staring in disbelief that Bucky had actually spoken, heart breaking all over again. His reaction aside, the fact that Bucky's voice was closer to a croak than anything else made it pretty dang clear he wasn't used to talking.

Had Steve mentioned lately how badly he wanted to kill the people that had done this? Because he did. He truly, deeply did.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. You can talk as much as you want." Steve finally managed to get it together enough to try to reassure Bucky.

Bucky gave him a blatantly disbelieving look that was so purely *Bucky* and something he'd seen a thousand times that it stole Steve's breath and made his vision swim briefly with tears he fought to keep from falling.

"I promise. No one is *ever* going to hurt you. They'll have to go through me first. And I'm not about to hurt you either."

It took everything Steve had to not mention that they were friends, not mention Bucky's name. He wanted to, painfully badly but the docs had all agreed that at least until Bucky started remembering (or admitting to remembering) things, they needed to avoid telling him as much about his past as they could - it would make it easier to know when Bucky was truly remembering, versus just parroting what he'd been told.

"As for why." Steve continued, fighting to keep his voice even. "If you mean why we're helping you ... well, it's pretty clear you're not doing this willingly. If you're asking why we're willing to keep you safe and not let anyone hurt you ... pretty much the same answer. You're not doing this willingly, which means someone is forcing you, and I'll be damned before I let that sort of nonsense happen on my watch. And when we find the bastards, I'll explain that to them in person. In detail. The rest of the Avengers are entirely too happy to help. Both with the stopping anyone from hurting you and the explaining things to the people that did this to you."

Bucky wore that disbelieving look the entire time Steve was talking. Steve wasn't sure what it was Bucky didn't believe - maybe all of it. Whatever, he'd figure out (or remember) that Steve meant every word of it soon enough.

Much as he didn't want to, Steve eventually left Bucky in the corner about ten minutes of reassurance and general random babble later. Bucky seemed to be on the verge of sleeping, having worn himself out with the withdrawal and his reaction to it. Something he probably needed pretty badly. Steve was pretty sure any attempt to move Bucky or get him to move would wake him all the way up, so he just backed out of the lab as quietly as he could manage.

He was the next best thing to blind and deaf to the others, dimly aware of questions being asked but really not caring, just needing to get out of there. He got about halfway to the elevator before he fell apart all over again, making an incoherent noise of rage and grief and then putting his fist through the wall. Ignoring the blood and pain, he yanked his hand out of the wall and was about to punch it again when Thor intercepted him, grabbing his forearm.

"Do not harm yourself thus, friend Steven."

Steve didn't generally cuss. Oh, he knew plenty of cuss words (couldn't help knowing them after hanging around the Commandos). He just didn't use them much. But if he had been that sort, Thor would have gotten an earful. As it was, the look he shot Thor could have peeled paint at fifty yards. He yanked on his arm.

When Thor didn't instantly let go, it was all the excuse he needed.

He'd been needing something or someone to punch since last night. He'd been doing his damndest to hold it together but ... he was pretty much at the end of his rope. And Thor was the only one on the team who both could stand up to the sort of punishment that Steve could dish out and might just let Steve punch the shit out of him. There were a few others who could handle what Steve could dish out, but they'd all either fight back, potentially doing a lot of damage in the process (James and especially Hulk) or not let Steve land any hits (Loki).

He got about three hits in before he saw the look of understanding flare in Thor's eyes, and the next thing he knew he was eyeball deep in a brawl, Thor fighting just enough to give Steve something to fight against without trying to flatten him (which Steve knew Thor could do if he went all-out).

Not that the brawl lasted all that long. Five minutes, ten tops. Then between one punch and the next, the rage wore down enough for the grief to take hold and Steve collapsed, tears streaming down his face.

Chapter Text

Thor

(_)(_)(_)

Time, Thor knew, moved differently for those with lifespans in the thousands of years than it did for the short-lived Midgardians. Plans, goals, schooling, and training could all easily span centuries for those of the other Realms. To name but a few things. Despite that difference, one thing was the same regardless of one's potential lifespan. Every being in existence had experienced that phenomenon where, due to differing circumstances, the exact same span of time could seem to last forever ... or pass in an eyeblink.

The last day had been one of those events when time seemed to do both repeatedly. Actually, it had been less than a day, as it had yet to pass the same hour in which Jarvis had told Thor of the danger facing some of his new compatriots. Time seemed to race and to lag interminably in unpredictable fits and starts from that moment to this.

Thor had spent much of the first hour or so more than a little confused, which was really not all that new a state of affairs when it came to Midgard and its people. He had not initially understood why Steven reacted so strongly to the would-be assassin's identity. It hadn't been until perhaps an hour after James Barnes had been tucked somewhere safe that Lady Jane had pulled him aside and explained. Thor had been more than slightly horrified to begin with, given Lady Natasha's brief explanation of how the beasts that had captured herself (an ill that would need addressing, did the opportunity arise) and the (at the time) unidentified would-be assassin. And Thor used the term beasts advisedly, for once. No being that purported itself more advanced than the beasts one hunted for food and to protect one's home or Realm would perpetuate such atrocities on one of their fellows. Even *true* beasts did not treat their own thus, but Thor was not so gifted with words as his brother, so 'beasts' would have to suffice as an appellation for such monsters.

Once the matter had been explained, Steven's reaction became far more understandable. Thor had promptly made it his mission to stay close to Steven. Of their company, Thor best knew the pain of having a brother seem to die, only to discover he had fallen into the hands of the foulest sort of beings and had suffered unspeakable torments at their hands. He understood the grief and pain and rage that Steven would fall prey to. He knew that Steven would need some sort of outlet for those emotions. It mattered not that James Barnes and Steven were not actually brothers. Such bonds, forged by choice, could (and frequently did) surpass the bonds of blood. That Steven had been willing to face untold numbers of the enemy alone in order to rescue his friend said all that needed to be said as to their closeness, even if only on Steven's behalf.

As a result, Thor understood at least in part what Steven was going through at the moment. The grief and rage and need for vengeance. Thor was in much the same position himself. His only real advantage was that he'd had a year to grieve for Loki's loss, and to Steven's perceptions, he had lost James less than four months ago.

Well, that and he knew the name of his brother's tormentor, and knew that tormentor was going to come within his grasp. That allowed him to husband his rage, to tuck it away and let it feed on itself until the proper time. He was going to *enjoy* tangling with Thanos when the time came. That fell beast would learn that one did not torment someone Thor held dear without suffering dire consequences.

Given his own reaction to discovering that Loki had been tortured for months, Thor knew that sooner or later Steven would lose his composure. Mayhap if Steven could actually do something to aid James, the explosion would be delayed or simply never come. Thor knew the only reason he hadn't exploded himself was because he was putting all his energy into doing what he could to help Loki. Unfortunately, there was little to nothing Steven could do, leaving Steven with far too much time to fret and work himself into a fine state.

Thor knew himself to be one of the few in their company who could take whatever punishment Steven dealt out if he lost control and lashed out physically. The worst Steven would be able to do to him would be a few bruises that would heal in a trice.

He really ought to have realized. Steven was far too honorable a man to harm those he considered friends and allies, even in the height of emotional upset. Still, Thor was able to keep him from doing himself serious damage when he punched the wall and looked as though he wanted to keep punching it, heedless of the damage done to his fist. He'd been caught slightly off-guard when Steven had actually started punching him, though he should not have. Thwarted in his goal to punch the wall until his rage spent itself, Steven would be forced to lash out elsewhere.

He managed to catch Steven when grief overcame the rage, and braced Steven against his chest, careful of his still damaged and bleeding hand. He shook his head when the Healer Cecelia started forward, clearly intending to ply her craft. Much as her aid was needed, Steven was too overwrought at the moment for Thor to be sure of how he would react to having people fussing over him. Some folks enjoyed or even required close physical contact in the wake of such emotional upheaval, whilst others rejected it harshly. Thor had no idea which way Steven leaned. Right now, he was at least tolerating Thor, so Thor was unwilling to risk making matters worse if he could avoid it.

She must have divined the reason for his hesitation, because she put her bag of supplies on the floor and pushed it within Thor's reach with a foot.

"Check his hand for splinters." She said quietly, her voice little more than a whisper in her effort to allow Steven some semblance of privacy. "That will be the biggest concern, with how fast he heals. They could get sealed under the healed skin."

And then have to be dug out in order for Steven to be rid of them. Which would, of necessity, be a far more painful process than removing splinters before his body healed. Thor checked the bloodied hand, but saw no splinters in evidence. Indeed, it looked to him as if all the cuts had already healed over. He gently cleaned the hand with some of the items in the bag to be sure, and to see if he could perceive and splinters under the healed skin once it was clean of blood. Fortunately, there did not seem to be any.

By the time that was done, Steven had gone quiet enough (save the odd sniffle) that Thor thought he might have fallen asleep. That turned out not to be so, as after a few long moments, Steven pulled away, skin very pink and looking very shame-faced but resolute.

"Sorry. I ... shouldn't have done that." Steven said, scrubbing a hand over his face, less to wipe away tears and more to hide his embarrassment, Thor thought.

Thor snorted. "You had more than sufficient cause, friend Steven, and you did no real harm to myself. Though Tony might remonstrate with you for putting a hole in the wall. He was quite adamant about my not doing that with Mjolnir, as I recall."

"He might whine a bit." Healer McCoy said. "But it won't be too bad. Like Thor said, you had more than sufficient cause to lose your temper, and Tony knows it."

Steven wiped his eyes on his sleeve and visibly attempted to pull himself back together. Thor watched as Steven squared his jaw and the flush receded. There was no mistaking the banked anger in his eyes, but it was clear that Steven had regained control. Unless something else happened. Which was always a possibility, though Thor sincerely hoped that Steven would be spared more distress for a while.

"Come, Steven. While James rests, you shall do likewise." Thor proclaimed, physically steering Steven towards the elevator.

Steven attempted to resist, but Thor was the stronger, and to be truthful, Thor felt the attempt lacked conviction. As if Steven knew he needed rest but felt he needed to remain here for his brother.

"Don't think I *can* sleep, Thor."

Thor sighed. "I swear to the Norns, I will clout you and Loki both over the head if I must to get you two to sleep this night. The last day has been very trying and you need your rest."

Steven blinked at Thor. "Loki's not been sleeping?" He asked.

"He has slept but one night - and not even all of that - since he was returned to himself." Thor admitted. "All my remonstration to him to rest have been ignored. Mayhap if you were to lead by example ... "

Steven gave him a jaundiced look, and Thor just smiled. True, it had been a rather obvious attempt, but he had ever left it to Loki to be the sneaky one of the pair of them. Such endeavors suited Loki far better than himself. Thor knew himself to be far too loud, boisterous and forthright to ever find silence, stealth, and the sort of skilled play with words that came to Loki so easily anything but difficult.

"Yeah, I can see why he wouldn't find sleep all that restful." Steven said with a grimace. "Though I gotta say, he's not struck me as someone who'd do something he didn't want to just because someone else did it."

Thor couldn't help the bark of laughter. "Nay. My brother has ever followed his own path." He agreed. "Still, I *will* clout him if I must. While we both can go for many days without sleep and not suffer for it, unlike most Midgardians, Loki is perilously close to going long enough to begin paying a price for his lack of sleep. Though I do have hope that he will listen to reason. His grasp on his magic will be the first thing to suffer, and he has far too much pride in his ability with magic to ever be at less than his best."

Thor could almost see Steven's mind mulling over the problem. While Loki might not thank him for setting Steven on him, it did appear to be providing a suitable diversion from fretting over James Barnes.

Steven blinked when they got off the elevator, because Thor had brought them both to his own floor.

"Uh, Thor ... this isn't my floor." Steven pointed out.

"Aye, I know. I thought you might not wish to be alone tonight. There are two rooms with beds other than the one I have chosen as my own where you can rest." Thor told him.

Steve thought that one over for a minute before nodding with some reluctance. "Yeah. That might be for the best. Though I'm probably going to keep you up most of the night. I wasn't sleeping so good even before this."

No, Thor could not imagine he would have been. While he did not have all the details, he had learned at least the general points of Steven's situation over the last few weeks. He could not imagine anyone sleeping well after such events.

It was early enough in the evening that Thor had half expected Steven to object to readying for bed already, but evidently the emotional upheaval of the day had worn Steven out enough he didn't bother. Thor left him to his preparations and went to find his brother.

He found both Loki and Charles Xavier on the common floor, Loki giving Charles a look that was equal parts insulted and amused.

"Come, brother. I would spend time with you before the end of the day." Thor told him.

Loki gave him a speaking look that said he wasn't fooled, but went along with it, joining Thor in the elevator with a put-upon sigh. He also tried to direct the elevator to his own floor. Thor just herded him out of the elevator when they got to his own floor. Which task was much more difficult with Loki than it had been with Steven.

"Brother ... " Loki started, scowling at him.

"You must sleep, brother, and do not attempt to claim you have done." Thor told him. "The shadows under your eyes would give the lie to such a tale. You were bordering on exhaustion even before these latest events, and since then you have done much magic. I may not know much about magic, but I *do* know it requires energy that must needs be replenished."

Loki glowered, but there really wasn't much he could do to claim Thor was wrong.

"You were able to sleep soundly in my presence where being alone allowed your sleep to be fractured." Thor said, avoiding calling the situation exactly what it was - namely that Loki'd had a hell of a nightmare. "So we'll begin with you here and mayhap you'll get a full night's rest."

"Damn it all, Thor, I am not a child that needs coddling!" Loki snapped.

"Nay, you are not. You are, however, someone who has been through far too much in recent times to sleep easily." Thor told him, nudging him towards his own bedroom where Thor could guard his sleep.

Thor had been mightily tempted to offer Steven the chance to sleep in his room as well, as his bed was big enough for the three of them. He had eventually decided Steven probably wouldn't be willing to do so, even if it was just Thor there. Having Loki there as well would have pushed things entirely too far. Steven did not strike Thor as the sort to value their pride and dignity, but right now it was about all Steven had left, and he might get a bit cross at things that appeared to damage such. Crying in Thor's arms had probably pushed Steven as far as he could go in that wise.

Steven, scrubbed and in a borrowed T-shirt and sleep pants of Thor's, came out of the bathroom just then. He cocked his head at Thor and Loki, then smiled slightly.

"Has he always been this stubborn?" Steven asked Loki.

"YES." Came Loki's emphatic answer, then he sighed. "And truly, it is best to humor him when he gets like this, as he will get his way one way or another."

"I kinda got that impression." Steven agreed. "G'night, you two." And he disappeared into one of the spare bedrooms.

"Thor, truly. You need to get married and have children so you have someone you can legitimately fuss over." Loki complained as Thor finally herded him into the bedroom.

"Eventually." Thor said agreeably.

For all Loki's whining, he didn't actually put up anything resembling an actual fight, which told Thor all he needed to know. If Loki had genuinely not wanted this, there would have been nothing Thor could do to force the issue. Being able to teleport did have its advantages, after all. Once Loki had settled in, Thor did likewise, and prepared himself for what could potentially be a very long night of guarding Loki and Steven's rest.

Chapter Text

Loki

(_)(_)(_)

Loki hadn't been sure why Steven wanted him to stay with Xavier when the man interrogated Belova. Protection, perhaps? It was the most likely explanation. Loki wasn't about to make the mistake of thinking Belova was helpless or truly contained. If she was even half so capable as Romanov, Belova would be dangerous even drugged into unconsciousness. And Xavier was physically vulnerable.

Loki had every intention of speaking with the healers on Asgard when they all headed there in a few days. Xavier would be going with them, which would make it easy for the healers to kidnap him and see if they could do anything for him. Due to the fact he was paralyzed, and had been apparently for quite some time (as humans measured time anyway), they might not be able to help. Asgard's healers were some of the best, but spinal injuries were some of the trickiest injuries to deal with.

At any rate, Loki had followed Xavier down to the cell holding Belova. Belova and Xavier had a quite intense staring contest for about fifteen minutes before Xavier blinked and gave his head a shake, then motioned for them to head out. Once they were in the elevator, Xavier spoke.

"Well. I have several names, and more faces. I'll have one of our students who is good at art do some drawings. Jarvis might be able to ferret out who they are from there, or perhaps Romanov or Agent Coulson will recognize the face and have a name for them." Xavier said. "Other than that, it is as Miss Romanov declared. The Red Room has decided the Avengers are to be eliminated, though I think they badly underestimated everyone's capabilities. I don't know that being shot would have done anything to yourself or your brother. Logan would have just gotten ... quite angry."

"And it would have resulted in Hulk making his presence felt if they shot Dr. Banner." Loki summed up.

"Quite. Though there is a remote chance shooting him might work ... if they used a powerful enough bullet from enough of a distance that he was unaware of the danger. That is wholly speculative, however." Xavier said. "It is entirely possible that Dr. Banner would still transform even under those conditions."

"The Red Room must have had the same thought. It would explain why they sent a sniper." Loki said. "Well, above and beyond the fact that killing us at that sort of distance would really be safest for them. If we did not know we were under threat, or could not divine the direction the shooting was coming from quickly enough, they could potentially kill half or more of our number." Loki scowled darkly. "Of course, they would then have to deal with the other, less mortal, half of the group, and that would not have been a pleasant proposition for them."

Xavier made a noise somewhere between amusement and disapproval. The amusement was obviously due to the extreme understatement. Loki had gotten the distinct impression the man was a pacifist, which would explain the disapproval. Men such as him disliked violence, no matter the cause.

Loki had never understood that sort of mentality. While he was by no means as given to violence as Thor tended to be, Loki had long agreed with at least one of the maxims Asgardians held dear. To whit - the only good enemy was a dead enemy. Leaving enemies alive only ever created problems in the future. Laufey being a case in point. Yes, Loki had ... expedited things and done a bit of inciting, but he hadn't had to do all that much. Laufey had been all too eager to strike back at Odin.

They headed up to the common room floor. As they settled in, Xavier spoke again.

"In another matter entirely ... I would very much like to ask a few questions?" Xavier asked, expression somewhat hesitant.

"I cannot guarantee that I will answer." Loki told him. "Or even know the answer, depending on the question. Though if it is the latter, I might be able to refer you to someone who does."

"I quite understand, and thank you in advance. My questions mostly have to do with a collection of stories known as the Eddas, which tell stories of the Norse gods." Xavier said. "I'm rather understandably curious as to whether or not there's any truth in the tales, given that at least some of the people in the tales actually exist, but are not gods."

Loki scowled at the man in exasperated amusement. "This is about the horse thing, isn't it?" He asked, then sighed. "I swear to the Norns, if I ever find out who started that story, I will find a way to go back in time and beat them senseless. Yes, Sleipnir exists. No, I did *not* shapeshift into a horse to beget him."

Loki scowled at Xavier, but he was more amused than offended. Humans were ... truly perverse. The situation was made worse by the fact that it was almost possible. Loki could, if he so desired, shapeshift into a mare. He could even, if he was willing to debase himself so, have sex in that form. That said, he would not be able to reproduce, because while he would look and be able to act like a horse, he was not, genetically, a horse. He supposed there might be spells to allow such a thing, but he was not that perverse, so he'd never thought to investigate the matter.

"Sleipnir was my last ... and best ... attempt at gaining some favor in Odin's eye." Loki told Xavier. "I cast spells on the best stallion and mare in the royal stables to bring him into being. And before you ask ... no, I do not have any children, though the creatures mentioned as my children in the Eddas do, or did, exist. Fenrir was Odin's pet, and died of old age roughly a century after I was brought to Asgard. Nari and Vari were two of his sons, and my and Thor's pets until they too died of old age several centuries ago. Jormungand was an enormous water dragon that troubled Vanir for some centuries before he was killed. I suppose he was made a snake in the tales because water dragons greatly resemble snakes. Hela ... well, she is another matter entirely. She is Death, the being Thanos is so enamored of. Or, well, a representation of that being. Every race has their own tale of what Death looks like. It is highly unlikely anyone will ever find out what Death truly looks like, and be able to pass on the information."

Because they would, at that point, be dead for keeps. The varying descriptions of Death's appearance all came from people who had come within a whisker of dying and been dragged back to life by whatever means. Loki was of the opinion that those folks saw either what would give them the most comfort - or scare the crap out of them, depending on the life the person had led and how it was they came so close to dying. That was the only explanation for both comforting agents of Death (like the Valkyries or Midgardian angels), and less comforting agents (like the Midgardian devil).

Right about then, Thor showed up. Loki got one look at his face and let Thor have his way. Arguing with Thor when he got like this was like arguing with a wall. You got precisely nowhere. The worst part of it, of course, was the fact that Thor was right. Loki was in dire need of rest. Not that he'd be getting any. He knew better than that, even with Thor intending to guard his sleep - and apparently that of Steven as well. Loki doubted that Steven's attempt at sleep would be any more successful than his own.

(_)(_)(_)

The dim gleam of distant stars provided little light to illuminate the pitch black of space. Just barely enough for Loki to perceive the pitted, crumbling surface of the asteroid on which he knelt, and the looming shape of his tormentor.

"You think you have escaped me, little runt? You are mine, little Jotun. I shall take great pleasure in ... reacquiring you."

Accompanying those last words were horrifying visions. Thor rent limb from limb. Frigga basely used and tortured for his erstwhile captor's amusement. Fleeting glimpses of the residents of the Realms dying in increasingly horrifying ways while the Realms burned. And all the while, himself kept alive. Forced to watch as everything he knew was destroyed utterly.

(_)(_)(_)

Loki came awake with a horrified, terrified shriek. Before he was anywhere near coherent, something loomed into his line of sight and Loki instinctively flung a spell as he scrambled back and away, crashing to the floor in an ignominious heap. A startled yell indicated he'd hit *someone* with the spell.

He managed to jam himself into a corner, shaking violently and perilously close to gibbering in fear. That had been no dream. The idea that Thanos could ... Yeah. Terrified about covered it.

Thor's voice penetrated the haze of fear, and more than a bit belatedly, Loki remembered he'd gone to sleep in Thor's room. Which meant it had to have been Thor he'd hit with that spell.

Ooops. At least he'd been too panicked for more than a 'shove the person away' sort of spell. At worst, Thor's pride would be dented.

Before Loki could make sense of what Thor was saying, Thor had him in a bear hug. Loki jerked, still freaked out enough to instinctively want away from anything constraining him. Thor, damn him, was too strong for Loki to dislodge. At least under these circumstances. If Loki put his mind to it and did more than flail about like a fish out of water, he could win free of Thor's grasp, but right now such a thing was beyond Loki.

Loki had no idea how long they sat like that before he calmed down enough to make sense. Thor had not ceased to rumble what Loki was willing to bet had been reassurances of some sort, given what he heard from Thor in the few minutes after he calmed down sufficiently to pay attention. Loki was rattled enough that he did not immediately attempt to win free from Thor when he calmed down. Eventually, though, he did speak up, so that Thor would know he was mostly back to himself.

Mostly.

"I think sleep is going to be a problem for a long time to come, Thor." Loki admitted. "Especially since it seems *he* can ... reach me still. He was taunting me with what he planned to do."

Thor growled, then tightened his grip on Loki briefly. "Let me guess. Visions of horrible deaths for those you care about?"

"Among other things." Loki agreed.

Thor snorted. "They will not come to pass, brother."

"I know. It does not make them any less terrifying, horrifying, or disturbing." Loki pointed out. Even though there was a part of him that feared Thanos winning despite all they were and would be doing to stop him.

"We will speak with Mother in the morning. There may be something she can do to help shield you from such torments." Thor said.

"Let us hope." Loki agreed. Otherwise, he was going to have a major problem.

They'd been quiet for a little while - long enough for Loki to begin contemplating the wisdom of attempting sleep again - when a shout came from the next room.

"It would seem you were wise to keep the both of us under your watch, brother." Loki said. "Go. Drag him in here if you must. I doubt he will be any more eager than I for sleep this night."

Thor snorted, but did leave. He came back in a few minutes later with Steven trailing behind him, looking miserable.

"Come keep me company, Steven, since neither of us is likely to sleep again tonight. Thor will doubtlessly be sound asleep in a trice." Loki rolled his eyes semi-affectionately at Thor. "But then, he can sleep through a dragon throwing a temper tantrum, so that is hardly surprising."

Steven perked up a little bit. "Dragons are real?" He asked.

"Oh yes. Though they bear little resemblance to dragons as depicted by Midgardian artists. There are numerous breeds that specialize. Ice dragons, water dragons, fire dragons, and several others. Each as bad as the next, and exceedingly difficult to kill." Loki told him.

"Huh. Where did they originally come from, or does anyone know?" Steve asked.

"No one has the faintest idea. The most popular school of thought is that they were spawned in the void between stars, since nothing that even remotely resembles a home Realm has been found for any of them." Loki said.

He and Steven continued to talk about dragons - and from there a number of other legendary beings, like phoenixes, unicorns, centaurs and the like. Some of the creatures in Midgardian tales were based on actual creatures, while others were not. Phoenixes, for example, had been based on a bird once native to Muspelheim, before it was laid to waste. Some few of the birds (and a few other beasts of that Realm) had escaped their Realm and found homes in volcanoes on other Realms over the millennia. Volcanoes being the closest any of the other Realms had to Muspelheim's environment. It was entirely possible that Midgard had even played host to one or more of the birds for a time - or that one or more still resided here. Earth had a number of active volcanoes, after all.

Centaurs, on the other hand, had been solely the result of an exceedingly perverse, imaginative mind. Such a being had never existed anywhere in the Realms. Nor had any of the other part-man, part-beast creatures in Midgardian tales.

Somewhere before dawn, Loki dozed off again.

This time, his sleep went undisturbed.

Chapter Text

Pepper and Sam

(_)(_)(_)

Pepper had waited for two days after the war council meeting before she did an end-run around Tony. It was pretty much her standard practice when it came to interviewing people who were going to interact with Tony on a regular basis, with very few exceptions. Cecelia had been one such. Pepper knew Tony well enough to know he wouldn't mess about when it came to the physical health and safety of 'his' people. And he very much considered the Avengers 'his'.

She did not repose anywhere near the same trust in his ability to *not* troll the living hell out of a mental health professional of any stripe. Tony had a rather ... poor ... opinion of 'shrinks'. Even with Mr. Wilson's non-'shrink' credentials and the very, very real need for his services among the Avengers, Pepper didn't trust Tony not to try to send Mr. Wilson running for the hills. Of course, Tony would still troll Mr. Wilson or whoever ended up with the job if Mr. Wilson didn't pan out for whatever reason. Actually, most of the Avengers would. The only ones Pepper couldn't see giving a mental health professional a deliberately hard time were Steve and Bruce. Still, she could at least let the man get in the door before he started having to field their shenanigans.

Though she had to say that she hoped Mr. Wilson was willing to take the job. On paper, he was as close to perfect as Pepper could conceive of. Certainly, his background as a soldier would incline most of the Avengers to believe he wasn't parroting whatever shrink mumbo-jumbo was popular that month without regard for the reality of the Avengers' situations and issues. Which was more than a lot of other counselors would get.

She had a bad feeling that Tony wasn't the only Avenger with a bad opinion of the mental health profession, hence that line of thought. Her own opinion was quite different, as her personal counselor could attest. She'd sought one out before Tony had escaped Afghanistan, and had been seeing them fairly regularly since.

At any rate, Mr. Wilson seemed to have a lot of people that thought very well of him. There wasn't anything that raised red flags - of any sort - anywhere in the information that Jarvis had dug up on the man. He was one of those folks that people liked to hold up as examples, whatever their motivations for doing so. Born poor, the son of a preacher in Harlem, and the youngest of four - three sons and a daughter. His father died when he was young, trying to defuse an argument that got way out of hand.

He had apparently started working part-time as soon as he could, and Pepper strongly suspected he'd been working unofficially even before that. Excellent but not perfect grades all through high school, and he's signed up for the Air Force ROTC as soon as he was eligible to. College had been much the same as high school, with a distinct lack of the sort of shenanigans a lot of college students get up to, then straight into the Air Force and very shortly thereafter, a pararescue unit.

Better, if what she had read was telling the truth, Mr. Wilson apparently had the same sort of calm, easygoing personality Steve usually had. He apparently made friends as easily as breathing. Pepper also strongly suspected that there was a - very probably temporarily buried - streak of crazy in him. Not a bad kind of crazy, but definitely a bit of crazy. Pilots in general tended to have at least a bit of it, test pilots had a lot of it, and pararescuers were, quite frankly, up to the ears in it. They kind of had to be. And it was the sort of crazy that would allow Mr. Wilson to roll with whatever craziness the Avengers generated.

Interestingly, Mr. Wilson been one of four recipients of an experimental flight pack Tony had come up with nearly a decade before Afghanistan. Eight of the flight packs had been made, and four pilots chosen to test them out. The packs had worked well within parameters, but the lack of armor that could stand up to aerial bombardment had been a problem that, at the time, Tony had not been able to solve. Or, at least, he hadn't been able to solve it in a way the military could afford. An Iron Man type suit, powered by a non-arc reactor power source, would be prohibitively expensive *now*, never mind more than a decade ago. As a result, when Mr. Wilson - the only surviving member of the four-man team - eventually called it quits after the death of his wingman, the project had been scrapped, though the packs had not. Those had been returned to Stark Industries, and the two undamaged flight packs were currently in R & D storage. What was left of the damaged ones had been taken apart and recycled.

At any rate, Pepper had arranged for a meeting with Mr. Wilson before Tony thought to do it. It'd been easier to do this time than other such incidents in the past, largely due to the fact everyone was still losing their minds over James Barnes. Not that Pepper blamed them at all. She was, in point of fact, quite upset about that herself, and more than slightly inclined to borrow one of Tony's suits and go blast some people, once they knew who to aim for and where they were. Of course, she'd have to get in line behind Steve, but she figured she could beat the rest of them with the possible exception of Natasha. But Natasha had an unfair advantage in that she had an idea of where to start looking and who to look for, so her getting there ahead of everyone was definitely possible.

"Mr. Wilson has arrived." Jarvis told her.

"Send him right up, Jarvis." Pepper said.

(_)(_)(_)

Sam wasn't exactly stupid. He'd gotten a call yesterday morning telling him someone was looking for a counselor for a group of people long-term and he was being considered for the spot. It hadn't been the first time since he'd become a counselor, but it was the first time that little to no information about the group doing the looking had been forthcoming. That alone had had him suspecting the group's identity, given recent events. Then he'd gotten a call from, of all people, Pepper Potts this morning. It hadn't taken a rocket scientist to figure out what group it was that was needing his services after that, even though she'd never actually admitted to who she was looking for a counselor for.

So. The Avengers. That was going to prove ... interesting, if he got hired. He could take a guess as to what issues Stark would need help with. It hadn't been all that long since he'd fought his way out of captivity in Afghanistan and even if Sam didn't know the details of that three-month stint in hell, he could take an educated guess thanks to his experience with ex-POW's. If the guy in the Captain America suit was the real deal - and Sam strongly suspected he was, if for no other reason than the entirety of the US military would rise up in outraged protest at a fake wearing that outfit - Sam could likewise take a guess as to *his* issues. Whether or not the rest of them needed his services now, he didn't know, but suspected the answer was 'yes'. And even if they didn't need him now, they'd likely need him later. He somehow doubted they'd only have the one bit of combat to their names as a team.

Working with two people that weren't even human, if the reports he saw on TV were accurate, was going to be a challenge and a half. At least with the humans, he had a good idea of what sort of issues might need dealing with, and how they might respond to various counseling techniques. Aliens? He didn't have a clue. Good thing he had always enjoyed a challenge.

He made sure to arrive a little early, if for no other reason than that city traffic could be unpredictable as hell, and he didn't want to be late because of a traffic snarl. He'd actually headed into the City from DC right after he got the call, and stayed at his mom's until closer to the interview time, to avoid having been on the road for three hours straight right before the interview. Not that mom had minded, of course. She always got a kick out of it when he and his siblings stopped by. Of course, she gave him (playful) hell for not being married and giving her grandkids whenever he visited. He was the only one of the four kids not married yet, and with zero plans in that direction.

Sam got the distinct impression there was more to the voice that directed him to the right elevator than a clever computer program. He could have sworn the thing sounded slightly surprised and pleased when he'd automatically said 'thank you' (his mama taught him manners) after getting directions. Given Stark's gift with tech, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

Miss Potts' office was pretty easy to find. Mostly because her secretary was waiting for him near the elevator, and led him through a couple corridors to the right door. Miss Potts called him in and he opened the door.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Wilson." Miss Potts said.

Sam grinned and walked to one of the chairs in front of the desk. He offered a hand, and she shook it. Unsurprisingly, she had a firm grip and a good, strong shake without it going overboard. He sat down in the chair.

"As I'm sure you've probably figured out." Miss Potts said. "We are looking for a counselor for the Avengers. Finding someone is proving to be ... challenging. We need someone who has, or can obtain, a high security clearance so they can even be told anything by most of the members. Someone who is willing to sign NDA's in addition to the usual doctor-patient confidentiality laws, as any counselor would become privy to information that does not fall within doctor-patient confidentiality." She broke off for a moment.

Sam just smiled. Because yeah, he'd figured that. Even if he only came in for a single hour-long session once a week, he'd still manage to run into information that wasn't protected by the confidentiality laws. And he was betting solid money he'd be here for more than an hour a week.

"We also need someone who is ... as unprejudiced as possible. Two of the Avengers are mutants, two are aliens, and there are other things on the list that could cause problems." Miss Potts continued.

Sam smiled again and shrugged. "Still haven't heard anything that'd put me off, Ma'am. To be honest, I wouldn't even have bothered coming if I thought I'd have a problem with anything that could be thrown at me."

Miss Potts nodded. "Admittedly, your name was at the top of a very short list. You were recommended by a friend of one of the people the Avengers trust." She slid a sheaf of papers across the top of the desk, a pen resting on top of the stack.

Short list his ass. He was willing to bet his was the only name on the list. The list of people who would give mutants shit would have cut the potential list in half all on its own. The alien thing would have knocked off most of the rest, either because they were 'gods'. Not that either of them had gone on record as saying they were, but well, Norse pantheon. There were people who would lose their shit because of that. Sam might be the son of a preacher but his pa, bless his soul, had been firmly on the 'no judgment or condemnation' side of things.

Sam leaned forward and grabbed the lot, reading through it. It was a non-disclosure agreement - strictly for the information he'd be given in this interview. There'd be another if he signed on as counselor. He signed the thing and pushed it back across the desk. Miss Potts gave a pleased-looking nod.

They talked for a good half hour after that. Not about the Avengers, either. It had mostly been Miss Potts poking at him to make sure he was as advertised. Sam didn't sweat it, and answered honestly. To his mind, there was absolutely no point in trying to lie. The likelihood he'd be found out was pretty high, and more importantly, a counselor that didn't mesh with their patient could do a ton more harm than good. Sam was not going to go there. Finally, though, Miss Potts seemed satisfied, and sat back.

"At this point, I have to say that I think you're as close to ideal as can be managed." She told him. "So we're at the point where you need to decide if you want to sign on or not. If you need time to think it over, there's no problem with it - the contract won't be off the table until I get a definite 'no' from you."

Sam really didn't have to think about it much. They wouldn't be looking for someone if they didn't need someone, and they weren't likely to find too many people that would be willing to sign on if he walked away. "Lemme take a look at the hiring package."

Miss Potts handed it over. Sam started to skim it, but stopped dead at the figure that would be his salary. There were a lot more zeros than he'd expected, and it took him a minute to absorb. He almost asked Miss Potts if the figure was right, but then decided it was. As ridiculous as the sum seemed to him, he would be on-call pretty much twenty-four hours a day, if some of the Avengers were actively having problems at the moment.

A few more signatures, on the hiring packet and an additional NDA, and Sam sat back.

"Just give me an overview." He told Miss Potts. "I'll get the details from them. Eventually."

Miss Potts smiled. "I cannot give you specifics - in most cases I simply don't *have* specific information." Miss Potts said. "I am not around them all the time, and most of them are very close-mouthed about their problems."

Sam nodded.

"At any rate, you'll be dealing with childhood neglect and/or abuse of varying severity and PTSD almost across the board." Miss Potts told him. "Capture by enemies and torture for the majority of them. Brainwashing and mind control of varying kinds, amnesia, survivor's guilt, and internalized racism. Not to mention Captain Rogers' problems integrating into this decade."

Sam frowned in confusion. "Ok, I can handle most of that, even if mind control is sort of sci-fi." He admitted. "But where the heck is the internalized racism coming from?"

"One of the two aliens, Loki." Miss Potts said. "The short version is that he was stolen as a war prize and raised among the 'victors' who really didn't like the 'losers'. And he had no idea he was actually from the 'losers' until about a year ago. The revelation did not go over well. It's a lot more complicated than that, but that's the short of it."

"Gotcha." Sam said, then grinned again. "Still not hearing anything that's scaring me off."

Miss Potts smiled in turn. "Every last one of them is going to fight you every millimeter of the way." She admitted. "I honestly don't even know what Thor and Loki will make of a mental health professional. Some of them are fairly stable as they currently are, but several of them are extremely messed up and in dire need of assistance. You're probably going to need to move into the Tower. In which case an apartment and assistance with moving will be part of the hiring package."

"My mom'll be tickled pink to have me living so close." Sam said.

"We're also currently dealing with a situation that is bound to destabilize someone somewhere along the way. A few days ago there was an assassination attempt. No one was hurt, and the would-be assassin was caught. But that was the problem. It turned out that the assassin, somehow, was James Buchanan Barnes."

Sam's eyes bugged out. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was." Miss Potts told him. "Apparently, he was found very shortly after he fell off the train to what Steve thought was his death. He was tortured, brainwashed, and his memories wiped out by means we haven't figured out yet. The Avengers have been up in arms since we found out his identity, and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Steve is, understandably, a complete mess right now, and it's only going to get worse."

Sam gave a low whistle. He didn't envy Barnes' ex-captors one bit. Anyone who had even a passing interest in history was aware of the swathe Steve Rogers had cut through HYDRA to rescue Barnes during World War Two when the 107th got captured. This was so many orders of magnitude beyond that Sam couldn't begin to calculate it. He was glad he's signed on. Some of them were in dire need of assistance his ass. Every last one of them was from the sound of it, though admittedly some of them were definitely higher up in the queue. From everything Miss Potts had told him, Steve, Loki and Barnes needed the most help at the moment. But that could easily change at the drop of a hat. Especially with the advent of Barnes into the equation. Watching him claw his way back to something approaching normalcy was bound to bring up issues with the rest of the Avengers.

"Worse, we've got a war looming." Miss Potts told him. "Those creatures the Avengers stopped a few weeks ago? They're going to come back. A lot more of them. And their leader. So the pressure is going to mount, especially on Steve and Tony, as they're more or less leading the group, at least where combat is concerned. There's a number of support staff that are taking as much of the non-combat pressure off as we can, but that's only going to be so much help."

"And that brings up the final point." Miss Potts said. "If at any point you decide you want to throw in with the Avengers and help kick bad guy ass ... the flight packs were Stark tech, and we've got the two surviving packs. Or we could just provide you with guns and armor if you want to stay ground-bound, or whatever you decide you're comfortable with. But that's not a requirement or anything of the kind. If you want to stick to counselor, you'll have plenty to keep you busy."

Oh, now that was tempting. Sam'd started missing flying a couple years back, once the worst of his grief had faded a bit. He'd tried flying planes and even helicopters, but it wasn't even close to the same. Having his wings back? That would be sweet. And if there was ever a time to sign back up, this was probably it. Thank god he'd stayed in shape. Still, he'd better get a look at what he'd be dealing with on the counseling end first.

"I'll definitely be thinking about it." He told her.

Chapter Text

Tony and Soldier

(_)(_)(_)

Tony had wasted no time in contacting Fury after the little tete a tete with Frigga and company. He still didn't like or trust the bastard, but Tony was willing to admit Fury did have his uses, and his government contacts around the world were definitely one of them. The fact that Tony now had the man over a barrel where SHIELD was concerned would, hopefully, keep Fury's manipulative tendencies to a dull roar.

To his credit, Fury had been surprisingly civil, and had confirmed he'd already been in touch with a few of his contacts and would be in contact with the rest within the week. What they would do with the information was anyone's guess. Tony for one had no compunctions about siccing Fury, Steve, and/or Loki - whatever combo would work best - on any of the governments that got stubborn or assholish. Keeping humankind - and from there all life - from being wiped out was a lot more important than petty political games or whatever other bugs they had up their asses.

That done, Tony had more or less locked himself in his lab to start designing and coding a new arm for Barnes. Bruce had invited himself in early on, not that Tony had minded in the least. Or, to be honest, even noticed at first. Which was saying something. Ever since Stane, he'd gotten better at taking stock of his surroundings even in the midst of an inventing bender. He wasn't anywhere near perfect at it - he still got sucked in pretty easily, but he was better than he had been. He'd actually called Cecelia in towards the end of the first day. She didn't know coding from a hole in the ground, but she knew medical shit, and between her and Bruce, Tony was able to find out what he needed.

The new arm was, from the outside, virtually identical to the arms on the Suits, though Tony had opted for plain metal rather than any one color or the other. He could always paint the thing when Barnes got far enough to express an opinion about it. Like with the Suit, there were panels on the outside of the upper arm and the top of the forearm where stuff could be installed later - whether 'stuff' was guns or something else would be up to Barnes. Internally, though, there were a number of differences. The first being that there was the equivalent of bones running through the arm, though much thinner than the actual bones in a real arm, to house and protect the electronics that ran the whole thing, rather than the electronics being just behind the metal panels like in the Suit. The whole thing was also about half the weight of the original, even if Tony used Earth metals and alloys. If he could work the Asgard stuff, he might find a lighter alternative.

Tony had improved on the coding from the original arm. That one had provided pressure sensors only in the palm and fingertips. Worse, the sensors had been purpose-calibrated. Barnes' trigger fingertip had far, far more sensitivity than the rest. The rest of the palm and fingertips had enough sensitivity to not accidentally crush, say, a hand or arm when Barnes grabbed them with the arm, but that was about it. What pissed Tony off was that it being that way had to be deliberate. As much as he hated to admit it, the arm was a fucking work of art, and if they could calibrate one fingertip so finely, they could damn well have done the rest the same. But they hadn't.

Tony had managed to wire the entire hand not just for pressure but temperature, and had calibrated everything so Barnes'd be able to hold anything he wanted without crushing it. He also put pressure sensors at intervals along the rest of the length of the arm. That would allow Barnes to take a swing at someone and control the strength of the swing as much as he wanted. He'd also be able to tell if the arm had taken damage or was about to if he was using it as a doorstop or otherwise had it jammed in somewhere it might get crushed. There weren't anywhere near as many sensors in the rest of the arm as in the hand, and the calibration was completely different, but it wasn't like he was going to be picking up an egg with his bicep or something.

The power source was an arc reactor, of course. Tony had decided to surround it with adamantium panels to protect it. He sincerely doubted that Barnes would be able or willing for combat for a long time, but that did not mean something wouldn't happen to wreck the arm. An arc reactor going kablooey due to damage would ... yeah. That would be bad. So it was best to do what he could to make sure the thing didn't get wrecked that way.

All that finally done, Tony had constructed a mobile Faraday Cage. While The Assholes had stopped trying to blow Barnes up via remote, Tony was taking no chances that they'd start up again. Though getting Barnes in the thing was going to be ... interesting.

Barnes'd been showing more life by the hour, according to Jarvis. He still wasn't remembering anything as far as they could tell though. According to Jarvis, Barnes was still giving Steve 'who the hell are you?' sorts of looks, and given how much of their lives had been lived side by side, Tony was betting that Steve would be one of the first things Barnes remembered, if not the first.

That said, Barnes might not remember who the hell Steve was yet, but he for damn sure had figured out that Steve was someone he could trust. Barnes started shaking like a leaf when anyone but Steve got within about ten feet of him. He was also, apparently, reluctant to take food or water from anyone else. He still took them, but he was a lot slower about it than if it was Steve handing him things.

Needless to say, Steve had been all but surgically attached to Barnes' side for the last two days. And completely focused on Barnes to the exclusion of just about everything else. For which Tony was deeply grateful.

Because Jarvis had names and places now. Not a lot - just two or three - but it was somewhere to start. Tony wasn't going to say a damn thing to Steve about it until they got back from their tour of the Realms. He knew as sure as his name was Tony Stark that Steve would want to go out and bust heads together. Not that Tony blamed the man a bit - or didn't want to join in on the fun - but they had more important shit to deal with first. Once they got the Realms ball rolling, they could deal with the 'don't know they're dead men yet' brigade.

(_)(_)(_)

Things were ... beginning to make sense.

Sort of.

Maybe.

A little bit.

At least, Soldier was starting to remember the names of things that he hadn't a couple days ago. Like the fact that the 'thing on the bed' was, in fact, a quilt. Better, written words were starting to make sense. That first day, the writing on the bottle of drink and the wrapper for the food bar had just been gibberish. Now, he knew the bars were Power Bars, and the drink was Gatorade. Some of the words on both still didn't make sense, but Barnes decided it was less a function of him not remembering anything and more the words just being weird as hell. What the hell was monopotassium phosphate? And that was just one of the weird words he'd spotted on both packages.

After that first attempt to get him to eat and drink, the Avengers had stopped by every hour or so that he was awake with more. Soldier eventually figured out it was their way of making sure he didn't make himself sick. Not because he figured that out on his own, but because he heard one of them mention it before the door closed, cutting him off from what happened outside the room he was in.

He wasn't sure why he'd get sick from eating and drinking, but if they wanted to be worried about it, there was nothing he could do to stop them. In a weird way, it was actually kind of ... nice. They all seemed very invested in him not being afraid, in pain, or sick. His previous controllers hadn't given a shit one way or the other most of the time and if the bits and flashes he got every now and again were things that had actually happened, they'd actively damaged him on more than one occasion.

Rogers was there virtually nonstop. There'd been a few hours when he wasn't, which had made Soldier inexplicably uneasy. For some reason, Soldier trusted the guy. Which made no damn sense whatever, but there it was.

Loki was there every single time someone else was, his energy trick, whatever it was, evidently necessary for the others to be willing to be in the room with him. It was an improvement over a shitload of guns and shock sticks, to be sure. Better still, not a one of them so much as said a cross word to him, never mind hurting him. It was like a fucking vacation.

(what was a vacation?)

Now, though, it seemed like they were all gearing up for something. There was a lot of going and coming in and out of the room he was in, and hushed-voice conversations at the far end of the room, where he wasn't able to overhear what they were saying.

Eventually, Steve came and hunkered down a few feet away, arms propped on his knees, big, earnest blue eyes fixed on Soldier.

(Why was that expression so fucking familiar? Come to think of it, why the hell was the name Steve so familiar? It was enough to drive him crazier than he already was.)

"Ok, so, here's the thing. We want to help you." Steve told him. "The people who had you were ... not nice."

And if the expression on Steve's face was anything to go by, the guy had wanted to say something a whole lot stronger than 'not nice'.

"The biggest problem is the arm. We don't know *what* they've done to it, or what it's capable of. Tony Stark has come up with a safer arm for you. But in order to switch them out, we need to get you out of here. And that's where the second problem comes in."

Soldier rather appreciated that Steve explained stuff like Soldier had a brain in his head. Even if what he was talking about made Soldier twitchy as hell. Take his arm off? Replace it? The very idea made his guts twist uncomfortably, made fear and bile choke the back of his throat.

"Those people ... well, they made sure they could destroy you if you escaped them. You've got explosives in you that are remote controlled. The only reason you're still alive is because this room is shielded against incoming and outgoing transmissions of any kind. In order to get you where we need to in order to ... " Steve waved one hand slightly, obviously restraining himself from a bigger gesture. "Fix their mess, we need you to move into a much smaller space for a little bit. It's designed to keep the transmissions from reaching you."

The door opened, and Loki, who'd been standing near it, pushed himself off the wall, hands flexing in warning. Just beyond the open door was ... well, a gold-ish red colored cage of some sort of mesh. Soldier appreciated the distraction. It didn't let him think too much about the whole 'explosives in your body' thing.

"I'll be in there with you. This isn't a trap or a way for us to hurt you. They'd have to trap or hurt me too."

Soldier knew damn well that if they were desperate enough, hurting Steve wouldn't fuss them too much if it got him dead. That said, they hadn't once seemed that desperate. Some of them might be that good at acting, but not all of them.

"Will you come?" Steve asked. He got to his feet, moving slow and steady in a way that didn't make Soldier feel panicky. He held a hand out in an apparently automatic offer to help Soldier up off the floor.

Soldier's world went sideways for half a second. There was a sudden, split-second impression of cold and wind and terror. A flash of ... Steve? ... in a colorful outfit, face twisted in concern as he reached out and down towards Soldier. The sensation of falling.

As fast as it came, it was gone, leaving ten thousand questions in its wake, as well as a trail of cold sweat down his spine and an inexplicable quiver of terror that wanted to be let out.

Thankfully, Steve seemed to have frozen in place, evidently startled that he'd offered his hand, and probably wondering what Soldier would do about it.

After a long moment's hesitation, Soldier took the offered hand with his flesh one, and let Steve haul him to his feet.

It wasn't until they were both in the cage and it was being rolled towards an elevator that Soldier realized he still hadn't let go of that hand. Even when he noticed it, he couldn't make himself turn loose. Even thinking about it brought back that flash of ... well, whether it was a real memory or not didn't matter really. It still scared the hell out of him in a way nothing had since he'd thrown off the drugs he'd been being given.

Chapter Text

Tony

(_)(_)(_)

When it finally came time to head for Asgard, the Tower emptied. Even Pepper cleared her schedule and came along. Not all of them would stay off-Earth for the days (weeks?) it'd take for Tony and Cap to talk to all the big kahunas, of course. Pepper only planned to stay two days at most, out of sheer curiosity. Charles and Hank similarly planned to decamp as soon as their respective parts in the general plan were done. Still, everyone had wanted to go at least the once, and what better time than this?

Tony was pretty damn sure Frigga had been snickering at them and their antics more than once. Charles had too, the bastard - when he wasn't joining the sci-fi geek-outs. At least folks had been doing something besides getting pissed off about Barnes. Not that that situation didn't deserve getting pissed about, but ... yeah. Dwelling bad.

Because all of Tony's time had been consumed with the arm and the necessary arrangements needed for him to leave the planet for as much as a month, the planned debrief on the various Realms and their leaders had been postponed until they got to Asgard. Once the arm was built, which would take a day, max, Tony would be able to spare the time.

They went up in two loads. Not because they had to for space on the roof/in the arrival room reasons, and for damn sure not 'the Bifrost can only transport so many' reasons. No, it was because of the fact that if there was going to be a time for Barnes to revert to full-on Winter Soldier, having only a flimsy-ass Faraday Cage between himself and his targets and/or freedom would be the time. Likewise, if The Assholes were waiting to make a move, this would be the perfect time to do so. None of the Avengers wanted the civilians anywhere near that sort of potential mess.

Granted, Charles could probably freeze anyone in their tracks before shit got real, but that was only a 'probably'. With their luck, The Assholes would have someone on their roster that was immune to telepathy or something. So Frigga had gone ahead with all the non-Avengers, including the new counselor guy Sam, with Agent, Natasha, the Cajun, and Merida as their (probably unnecessary, but they were all a bit paranoid) bodyguards. Pepper, of course, was in charge of all the stuff Tony had wanted to bring to Asgard in order to make sure he could build the new arm there, as well as the shipping container holding everyone's gear (just in case things worked out well with Hulk). The rest of them, not incidentally all heavy hitters of one stripe or another, stayed to bring Barnes.

Tony and Thor had gone to the roof ahead of the rest, to fly escort just in case it was needed. The others all headed down to try to load Barnes in the cage and haul him to the roof. When the gang got up there, Tony had to grin. Loki had put one of his force fields around the cage. Smart man. Tony was betting solid money the thing would repel attacks from either side.

Barnes was wide-eyed and looking more than slightly anxious, but other than that he was surprisingly calm. That ... probably had something to do with the fact that Steve was in the cage with him. Tony touched back down on the roof seconds behind Thor, who yelled for Heimdall the moment everyone was far enough out on the roof to not cause problems with transport.

Barnes folded like a house of cards the second they reached Asgard. Unfortunately, while they'd been able to explain most of what they'd be doing ... there was just no explaining how they'd be getting to Asgard, and Barnes ... yeah. That hadn't gone over well. He curled up into a tight ball at the bottom of the cage, shaking violently. Cap damn near plastered himself all over Barnes, muttering reassurances. Not that Tony could hear what was being said, but given the situation, there weren't all that many choices for what he was doing.

It took a good ten or fifteen minutes, but Barnes eventually calmed down. Once he did, they let the two of them out of the Faraday cage. That seemed to help Barnes in and of itself. He stopped looking terrified out of his mind (not that he didn't still look scared, just not as badly) and actually started looking around, curiosity plain on his face.

It took more restraint than most people believed Tony had to keep his mouth shut when he realized Barnes and Cap were clinging to each other's hands. The temptation to tease the holy hell out of Steve at least was unbelievable. Knowing that Barnes probably desperately needed that anchor kept Tony quiet. He freely admitted he was an asshole, but he wasn't that much of one.

Once Barnes was back on his feet, Tony stepped out of his suit and let it close back up. While Jarvis was necessarily limited here in Asgard thanks to the whole 'not on Earth' thing, there was enough of him in the suit to run the suit, even when Tony wasn't in it. So he'd walk the suit to wherever their gear was going to be stashed until/if they needed it. Pepper handed him the Starkpad that had the plans for Barnes' arm on it.

From there, they split up. Thor led Tony to Asgard's smithy while Loki led the rest of them to the palace. The smithy proved (thankfully) to be a freaking huge, brightly lit room with about two dozen men and women scattered around working on various things, as well as what looked like the Asgardian version of teenagers racing back and forth playing fetch-it/messenger for the folks who were working. As befit a smithy, the place was noisy and hot as hell. Tony was deeply grateful he was used to such decibels thanks to his preference in music. The heat would be a bit more of a problem since he normally worked in much cooler environs, but he'd manage.

Thor waved one of the teenagers over. "Pray find Trygve and let him know I would have speech with him."

The boy raced off, and a minute or two later, a guy that would have given Andre the Giant a run for his money ambled over. Tony sort of blinked. Because hell, Thor was big, height and muscle wise. This guy? Topped Thor by about half a foot and damn near made two of him muscle wise. The guy was older - white haired like Odin had been, and unlike pretty much every other Asgardian Tony had met thus far, the guy's body showed burns and scars, all of them very probably from his job.

"Prince Thor! Have you come for new armor, then? And who is this you bring with you?" Trygve peered down at Tony for a moment before something like recognition lit in his eyes. "This is the one they call the Man of Iron, then? Rumors have spread of your skill in my craft. Well met!" And the guy extended a hand.

Tony fully expected to get his hand crushed when he accepted the handshake. To his surprise, that didn't happen. "Call me Tony." He said.

"With pleasure. Now, Her Majesty the Queen informed me that you would have need of space and possibly material to build something?" Trygve asked.

Tony almost didn't notice a grinning Thor making himself scarce. "Yeah. Long story short, I need to build an arm. I got the plans for it ... " Tony brought the Starkpad out to where Trygve could see, and showed him the plans. "I brought metals from Midgard, just in case, but if you guys have something that will work better, I will be all too happy to use it."

Trygve poked curiously at the pad for a second before studying the plans. "Hmmm. Clever, quite clever. Why the central metal bone?"

"It's going to be attached to the nervous system of the person getting it. The 'bone' will protect the components that permit that, right up to where they enter the remaining stump of the arm." Tony said, keeping it simple because he didn't know where Asgard was in terms of tech, and even if they were equal to or surpassed Earth in that regard, they might not have the same terms for things. "And will serve as an anchor point for any of the stuff that gets installed behind the forearm panel."

Trygve nodded. "Well, Let me show you Asgard's metals."

Tony was led to a room at one end of the smithy. The room proved to have neat stacks of metal ingots, each stack taller than he was, and about the same size in width. About three-fourths of the different kinds of metal had more than one such stack. Several of them had more than ten stacks, evidence they were the most-used in Asgardian armor and weapons. There was a surprising array of colors, ranging from a silvery white, through just about every shade of gray and silver possible, ten different shades of red, ten more of red-gold, and four or five of gold.

The silver-white metal damn near made Tony laugh his ass off. The Asgardians called it something else, but Tony more or less instantly dubbed it 'mithril'. Because that was basically what it was. It was ridiculously light - a three inch tall and eight inch long ingot of the stuff weighed less than a pound - and according to Trygve, the stuff could stand up to low and most mid-range energy blasts, and shrugged off anything short of a troll-strength jab with a bladed weapon. It was also one of the metals the Asgardians had the least of, with only one stack of it in the room.

Sadly, it was impractical as hell for Barnes' arm. Tony needed to keep the arm close to the weight of Barnes' flesh and blood arm, or he'd have problems. In order to get a mithril arm up to weight, he'd have to weld in plates of another metal, which just wasn't going to work. Still, it had amused the hell out of Tony.

Tony eventually settled for a metal that was a bit tougher than the alloy in his suits, and would make the arm about the right weight. He hauled enough ingots of the stuff out to experiment with (he needed to be sure he'd be able to work the stuff by hand) and Trygve showed him to a station he could work at.

It took very little time at all for Tony to garner an audience. His nearest neighbors - all working on armor for their fellows to use in the upcoming war, apparently - watched him as much as they could while still doing their own work. Those further away found excuses to wander past, as did most of the kids playing runner for the adults. Tony, used to watchful audiences (even if not in this context) ignored them.

It felt weirdly good to do this by hand. He hadn't since Afghanistan. Though he'd never have admitted it out loud, he'd been a little worried he'd have a flashback or some stupid shit like that. So he'd hadn't done more than welding since. It probably helped that this place was about as different from that fucking cave as it was possible to get. A ton more light, a lot more people, more than a little good-humored chatter back and forth between the closest folks when the noise level allowed. It made a huge difference.

Still, Tony didn't strip down to the muscle shirt he'd worn under his usual 'I'm fucking around with shit' clothes until he'd soaked his AC/DC shirt in sweat. He doubted he'd ever stop being leery of letting the arc reactor be visible. Shit, he'd considered a cover panel for it on the suit more than once. But these guys weren't about to hold him down and rip it out of his chest, so he eventually gave in and stripped down so he wouldn't overheat.

It took about a half day to get the non-electronic parts of the arm built. At that point, Trygve more or less hauled Tony away from the arm by the scruff of his neck. Tony checked the instinct to fight the guy off. Talk about a losing battle. He wasn't sure he'd be able to fight the guy off in the suit, much less out of it. Didn't stop him from giving the guy his most lethal glare, for whatever it was worth (not much).

"Your work ethic is to be admired, Man of Iron, but even the hardiest of souls needs sustenance after a long day of crafting."

Tony snorted, but gave in and followed Trygve to the eating hall. The rest of the gang was there, even Barnes. He had Steve on one side of him and the tiniest, oldest Asgardian Tony had yet seen sitting on his other side. It was a woman, white haired and wrinkled in a way even Odin hadn't been, and Natasha's height (Natasha being five feet and three inches of instant, sudden death) rather than the height of Sif or the Queen, both of whom were taller than Tony.

Trygve split off to go hang out with his friends, and Tony plunked himself down next to Pepper, who'd saved a seat for him.

"Who's the lady by Barnes?" He wanted to know.

"Lady Eir, Asgard's head Healer, and apparently second only to Frigga in skill in that department." Pepper told him. "She is apparently from the tough love school of healing, and felt that Barnes needed to be with everyone else, even here, rather than tucking him somewhere less full of people and things to potentially trigger him. She came along to provide help if he freaked out or something."

Tony smirked. He could like a doctor like that. Especially since she would have had to argue Steve around to her point of view, a not inconsiderable feat. He was famously intolerant of being coddled, himself, and regularly gave his doctors (and Pepper) gray hair by ditching as much of the mollycoddling as he could humanly manage. Sometimes, admittedly he ducked more than he should, and sooner. But still.

"I should have the arm finished by a decent hour to go to sleep tonight." Tony said. "So they'll be able to switch the arms out tomorrow. And while they're doing that, the rest of us can sit on Cap. Because he's going to be fretting. We can try working with Hulk while Barnes is recovering from the surgery."

Chapter Text

Bruce and Hulk

(_)(_)(_)

Bruce was ... somewhat less than sanguine ... about what they were going to do. Yes, Hulk had been more controlled than in the past during the invasion. Yes, Bruce admitted there was wisdom in trying to make some sort of ... something ... (friendship? Teamwork? Something.) with Hulk. He was still very nervous about the whole thing. The number of ways this could go wrong was terrifying.

The Avengers plus Charles and Betty had been brought to a spot near the foot of some mountains north of the palace. They were about as far away from other people as it was really possible to get in Asgard at that point. The lush, green woods would, if worst came to worst, appeal to Hulk and draw him towards them, rather than towards the palace and the city around it.

Bruce tried to put that out of his mind. Thinking about the surgery helped. It had gone extremely well. Frigga hadn't been lying at all about Asgard's abilities when it came to medical stuff. Barnes was still unconscious, but according to Eir, it was a healing sleep, not a sign of something wrong. Bruce wondered if maybe it was Barnes' body taking advantage of the situation to try to fix more of the mental damage. Certainly, Barnes hadn't slept since they'd brought him to the Tower, despite their best attempts to get him to do so without resorting to drugs. There'd be no way of knowing what they'd be dealing with until he woke up.

The two skiffs they'd come in dropped everyone but Betty and Charles off and then got the heck out of dodge. Bruce had been very firm on that. Any sign of anything that could be a weapon was all but guaranteed to set Hulk off. Hulk had too much experience with flying things trying to hurt him to consider a flying anything as benign. Well, with the possible, and notable, exception of Tony in his armor, since apparently Hulk hadn't smashed Tony before he'd reverted to Bruce at the end of the invasion. Which might mean Hulk could learn that at least some flying things weren't dangerous to him. Still, now was not the time to test that.

They'd stay close enough to get Betty here in a hurry if Hulk started smashing indiscriminately, or if Hulk did well enough that an attempt at actual training could be made (the crate holding everyone's gear was in one of the skiffs), but they'd be out of sight until then. Charles' telepathy was strong enough for him to 'read' Hulk from a distance and communicate with the team as to the results, which would keep him safe if Hulk got out of control, since Charles was not as mobile as the members of the team, and no one, not even Charles, was willing to gamble on whether or not he could freeze Hulk in his tracks.

Bruce took a minute or two (and blessed the rest of the team for their patience) to calm down completely and, as he'd done prior to the invasion, attempt to keep certain things in mind to guide Hulk once he was out.

"Well, here goes nothing." He said, then turned away from the group, took a deep breath ... and let go.

(_)(_)(_)

Hulk roared as he came out, swinging once, instinctively, to get anyone or anything too close away while Hulk tried to figure out where the danger was. Hulk scowled in confusion when nothing immediately attacked him, and roared again. Hulk took a good look around. Green things and dirt. Not even any four-leg or flying punies, though Hulk thought maybe his roaring had scared them off. They knew Hulk was biggest. Then Hulk heard something behind him.

Hulk swung around to look for whatever it was that was behind him. Punies. Lots of them, but not lots-lots. Immediately, Hulk roared and punched the ground, hard enough to make the punies stumble and fall. He looked around for Ross with a growl while the punies picked themselves up. Ross always tried to hurt Hulk. Hulk hadn't managed to smash him yet, but he would. He would! But there was no Ross. And there weren't any stingies that Hulk could see. Not on the ground and not in the air. Hulk growled in confusion, but didn't attack the punies. As long as the punies didn't aim stingies at him, Hulk was willing to ignore them. Without stingies, punies weren't a threat to Hulk.

One of the punies came forward. Hulk bellowed again, refocusing on the potential threat, but the puny didn't even twitch. They just started talking. It took a few moments, but after a good sniff, Hulk recognized Tony.

Hulk liked Tony. Tony wasn't afraid of him. Tony liked Hulk. Talked to Hulk like Betty did. Helped Banner. Hulk grumbled but calmed down a little. Tony wasn't a threat, and Hulk didn't think he'd bring threats with him.

"Hey, big guy. Nice to see you again. I brought some friends to meet you." Ton said.

Hulk scowled in confusion. Friends? He didn't know that word.

Tony spoke again. "Logan, front and center. Lemme see if I can jog his memory a bit."

One of the others came forward. Hulk frowned at him and cocked his head. There was something ... Hulk sniffed, but that didn't help much. The puny smelled familiar, like four-leg punies and metal, but Hulk couldn't place it. He grumbled.

"Remember the last time you fought, big guy?" Tony asked. "The really big thing you took down?"

Hulk thumped down to sit on the ground and fought to remember. Remembering was hard-hard-hard, especially new things. After a minute, something came to him. Bad stink, and sharp claws cutting metal that would only bend under Hulk's fists, and the four-legs and metal smell, almost buried under lots of other smells.

"Claws!" Hulk bellowed, triumphant.

Claw man made an amused noise, and Tony smiled really big at Hulk. "That's right. He helped you. Everyone else here was fighting the bad guys in that fight, too."

Hulk eyed the punies in front of him. All? All had been there? It had been a big fight, Hulk remembered that much. Bigger than any fight Hulk could remember. Lots of places for others to be that Hulk wouldn't see. And they might have looked different. Hulk remembered the red-and-gold Tony wore during the fight.

"We all want to work together. With you." Tony said. "So we thought you would like to meet everyone."

Hulk sniffed again and scowled. Some of them were scared. "Scared!" He bellowed, pointing at them. He ignored the work-together. Hulk didn't understand what that meant.

"Maybe a little." Tony admitted. "But they don't know you yet. You're big, and strong, and can hurt them. But once they get to know you, they won't be scared."

Hulk grumbled, but dimly, Hulk could remember even Betty being afraid of him at first. She hadn't been afraid long, Hulk didn't think, but she had been. Maybe these would be like that? It would be nice to have more Bettys.

One of the others came forward, and Tony pointed to him. "This guy is the most important one, ok big guy? He's the one that tells us what to smash. His name is Cap."

Cap was one of the ones that wasn't scared. Hulk hunkered down a little, to get a better smell of him. He smelled warm-safe-bright, and a little of metal. Then Hulk frowned a little. Cap also smelled sad. Hulk didn't like it when Betty smelled that way. "No sad!" He demanded.

Cap's eyes went wide and he smelled surprised. "How did you know that?"

"I think he smelled it." Came another voice. "He's been doing a lot of sniffing."

Hulk turned to look at who was speaking. They looked like Cap a little, just punier. This one wasn't scared either. Hulk rumbled curiously.

"My name's Clint." He said, and stepped closer. "You probably won't see me much in fights. I like to be up high and shoot at bad guys, rather than punch them."

Hulk huffed a little, amused. Smart puny, to stay away from smash. Hulk sniffed at him. He smelled of dust and small spaces. A little of stingies, too, but it was weak enough that Hulk knew he didn't have a stingy with him, and hadn't touched one in a while. Clint didn't back away once Hulk sniffed him. He sat down near Hulk, which made Hulk blink.

"Right, so, let him get a good whiff of you when you're introduced." Tony said, then glanced up at Hulk. "Ready to meet the rest?"

Hulk huffed impatiently, and Tony grinned up at him. "Right, time's a-wasting. Nat, you're up next."

Nat was one of the scared ones. But she was also a really little puny - the littlest of the group. Littler even than Betty. Hulk thought maybe Nat was a smart puny too, to be afraid of Hulk when he was so much bigger and stronger. She smelled of lots of things, like Betty did. Hulk didn't know what any of them were, but he recognized the smells. She also smelled of stingies, much stronger than Clint, but still weak enough that Hulk didn't think she had one with her. She also smelled, just a little bit, of sky fire - the 'storm' stuff that Betty had explained. That made Hulk glare a little. He hated sky fire. It was too much like the big stingies.

Tony told Hulk who the rest of them were, and everyone let Hulk get a good smell. And Tony was right - the scared smell started disappearing after a little bit, before Hulk even met everyone. Hulk was thrilled. Bettys! Lots of Bettys.

Then Loki stepped up. Hulk got one sniff and couldn't help it. He backed up a step, growling anxiously. Loki smelled of snow and ice and cold, and Hulk remembered the one and only time he'd been around those smells entirely too well. That had been when even Banner tried to hurt Hulk. He also smelled ... very strange. Not like any of the others at all.

"Easy big guy." Tony said. "Loki is ... not like us. Kind of like how you're not like us. That's all."

Hulk eyed Tony, then eyed Loki, then eyed Tony again before grumbling reluctantly and coming closer again. Hulk blinked a little in surprise when Tony reached over and patted his arm.

"You're doing great, big guy." Tony said.

Hulk relaxed a little bit, and re-focused on Loki, sniffing curiously, trying to figure out why Loki smelled so very different from everyone else. When no answers presented themselves, Hulk huffed. "Why smell?" He asked.

Loki blinked for a moment, then smiled a little. "I am not from Earth." He explained. "So I do not smell the same as things from there, like you and them." He waved a hand towards the other punies.

Hulk huffed, not quite understanding the explanation in full, but getting the general gist of it - that Loki was from 'very far away' compared to everyone else.

Then it was Thor's turn. Hulk got one whiff and bellowed, slamming a fist into the ground hard enough to make Tony and Thor stumble and Clint scramble away to avoid getting smashed. Thor smelled *strongly* of sky fire. Hulk did not like that one bit.

"NO BOOM FLASH!" Hulk bellowed, more or less at the top of his lungs.

"Whoah! Whoah, big guy. Calm down. Take it easy, Big Green." Tony said, talking fast.

Hulk glowered at him, then gave Thor a death-glare, then glowered at Tony. "Boom flash! Hulk no like!"

"Not a fan of storms, huh?" Tony said, voice gentle. "Thor won't. He only makes the boom flash to smash. He doesn't want to smash you - or any of the rest of us - so he won't do that."

"I will not hurt you, my friend." Thor said. "You have my word on that."

Hulk grumbled, but again slowly calmed down, though he still kept a wary eye on Thor, even when the rest of the punies came back over. After a minute or two, Clint clambered up to Hulk's shoulder. Hulk stared at the puny in confusion.

"Why climb Hulk?" Hulk wanted to know.

Clint grinned at him. "Remember me telling you I like to be up high? Well, you're taller than everyone else here."

Hulk just blinked, thoroughly confused. Clint could climb the greens if he wanted high. Why did he choose Hulk? Betty and Tony touched, but not even they had done anything like this.

"Silly puny." Hulk rumbled, but let Clint stay on his perch.

"So Hulk." Cap spoke up. "You remember that last fight, right?"

Hulk nodded. "Big flying bad stinks. Hulk smash."

"Right. Well ... someday soon, more like that are going to show up, and try to smash again. Lots more. We." Cap indicated the other punies and Hulk. "Managed to smash the small group, but if we're going to smash the big group that's coming, we need to learn to work together - like you and Logan did with the big stinky."

Hulk bared his teeth and growled. Unlike the other growls, this one was full of malice and impending violence. "Stinkies come, Hulk SMASH!" He proclaimed, punching the ground in emphasis, but not as hard as previously - just hard enough for it to be felt, not hard enough to make anyone lose their footing or fall over. Then he focused on Cap. "How can help?"

"That's what we want to find out." Cap said. "We know you're strong, and you can jump really far. Would you be willing to carry someone with you, when you jump? Bring them to the smash?"

Hulk eyed Clint again, then nodded. "Hulk can." He agreed.

"That's great, Hulk. We'll help you learn about ... " Cap shrugged. "Well, anything you want to know, really."

"Banner no let." Hulk pointed out.

"He promised he would, if you agreed." Tony said. "I know you two haven't had the best time up to now, but, well, things have changed. Banner knows you're smart, now. Wants to give you a chance."

Hulk stared at them for a moment, thoroughly startled. "Banner let?" He asked.

"Yep." Tony said. "Banner let."

Chapter Text

Charles and Clint

(_)(_)(_)

Charles felt badly for Dr. Banner. It was very obvious the man was incredibly nervous about letting his alter ego out under so-called 'controlled circumstances' for the first time. Oh, he'd managed to bring Hulk forward twice before now, at least - the Harlem incident and of course the invasion, but those had been combat situations, and anyone who claimed that combat was controlled anything was lying through their teeth.

Dr. Banner's mind was unique in Charles' experience. He could sense Hulk, but only in a very dim, distant, general sort of way. The only thing that came through clearly was a sense of watchful vigilance and violently primal protectiveness that rather reminded Charles of Logan.

The difference in what he could sense, once Dr. Banner allowed the change, was rather profound. Charles was rather startled, really. What little anyone knew of Hulk that Charles had been able to discover had always pointed towards him being very primal and primitive at best, animalistic at worst.

That turned out to not be the case. Oh, Charles didn't think that Hulk would ever equal Dr. Banner when it came to intelligence, but he was far smarter than anyone had ever given him credit for being. That intelligence was, sadly, thwarted by ignorance. Hulk didn't seem to know what much of anything was. What little he did know, he seemed to understand instinctively. There was very little he had actively learned - Betty's name, Ross, what storms were, and a handful of other things, but that was it. Everything else that Hulk knew he just ... knew. It made sense, given the small amount of time that Hulk had been out and exposed to the world.

[[Hulk is very intelligent.]] Charles told the Avengers via telepathy. [[With time, he will be on par with any normal human adult. Certainly not a genius, but intelligent enough to function normally. But currently, his understanding is that of a toddler's. His capacity for speech is at about the same level. I would recommend keeping to very simple, easily understood concepts and words with a maximum of two syllables where possible for now.]]

Charles kept an 'eye' on things during the introductions, just in case further assistance would be needed. Much to his pleasure, other than a rather close call with Thor, they didn't come close to needing any further assistance from him, and even then, they managed to smooth the situation out without help. He did interject a suggestion once or twice, but that was all.

(_)(_)(_)

Clint watched people and things, and he saw what other people didn't. It was his thing. A thing borne of a life of abuse, when watching his drunk-ass father so he'd know when to run for cover was vital to life and limb. A thing reinforced by his less-than-ideal stint in the circus and his years as a mercenary.

Back when the whole Avengers thing had been in the 'maybe-might be-what if we' planning stages, a ton of names had been tossed around as potential members. It had been Clint that had advocated for Hulk's addition to the potential roster. Clint had watched all the tapes of Ross' encounters with Hulk. And he'd noticed something that ... was honestly kind of easy to miss, in among all the bellowing and destruction.

Back in the early part of his merc days, Clint had stumbled across a mangy, nearly emaciated, half-feral alley mutt that'd clearly taken a hell of a beating from someone/thing or multiple someones/things. The poor thing had been skin and bones, cut up, lame in one leg, half an ear gone and the eye on that side badly mangled. The local animal control folks had been there, trying to catch the poor thing, and having zero luck with it because despite its injuries, the dog was alternating between snapping and snarling at everyone who got too close, and running for whatever cover it could find. Eventually, it managed to elude the control folks entirely.

Clint, watching from a nearby roof, had been struck by the look of desperation and fear in the mutt's eyes, despite the apparent viciousness it displayed. The mutt hadn't been snapping at everyone because it was vicious, but because it was scared out of its damn mind. Wanting to try to help the poor mutt, Clint had searched for it for hours before finding it. It had taken the best part of a day and almost half a pizza (all the food he'd had on hand at the time), but eventually the poor thing had let him close.

Clint had taken the mutt to the vet, where it'd taken an hour or so, and a very level-headed vet, to calm the mutt down enough to get its injuries treated. Once that had been done, Clint brought it to his current place and named the mutt Lucky. He'd fully expected Lucky to tolerate no one but him for any reason whatever, but he'd been fine with that.

He'd been wrong. Lucky had turned into an attention whore inside of a month. He spent the next (and last) two years of his life perpetually thrilled that someone wanted to pet him or play with him, or just being thrilled with life in general. Clint had joked that the damn dog would learn to fly at some point, with how enthusiastically he wagged his tail all the damn time. Clint had been heartbroken when the mutt died pretty young (Lucky had been roughly four, maybe five years old when he died), his body giving out before its time thanks to the trauma and damage Lucky had suffered before Clint had rescued him.

Clint had seen the same damn desperation and fear he'd seen in Lucky in Hulk's eyes. He'd noticed that by and large, it was only ever Ross and his people that had suffered injuries and deaths when Hulk went on a rampage. Oh, there had always been collateral injuries and even deaths, but they'd been *collateral*. Not a comfort to the victims and their families, but Hulk hadn't meant to hurt or kill them.

Actually, the collateral damage that Hulk himself had caused had been fairly minimal - and a key reason Clint had suggested him. Hulk grabbed empty cars, or random bits of whatever happened to be nearby to fight with, or got knocked into buildings by rockets or whatever. Hulk never once grabbed *people* or anything holding people unless those people were soldiers trying to hurt him. That had suggested a greater degree of awareness than most people had been willing to credit Hulk with.

Most of the damage done during encounters with Hulk had been thanks to Ross and his goons - bullets bouncing off of Hulk and hitting other people, rockets hitting where Hulk *had* been and blowing shit up, that sort of thing. Between those two facts and the fact that, given his druthers, Hulk ran rather than fought, Clint had had a strong suspicion that given half a chance, Hulk would be another Lucky. Pitifully grateful for, and thrilled by, people who weren't afraid of him and didn't try to hurt him.

Phil had agreed with his assessment, and had kept Hulk in mind as a possibility. His name had gone on the list after the Culver and Harlem incidents, when it became clear that Hulk was, at least on some limited scale, capable of planning and tactics and, startlingly, restraint. At least if Betty was involved, either as the apparent (to Hulk's eyes) target of violence or the one asking Hulk to do something.

Which, if it had come to that, they'dve had no problem whatever stealing Betty away from her father if she was willing to be Hulk's handler. Phil at least had no compunctions whatever with making whatever allowances were required in order for an exceptional asset to work with SHIELD comfortably. And just like when he and Phil had brought Nat in, it wasn't like much of anyone in SHIELD, not even Fury, would be willing to risk Hulk's wrath by fucking around with him.

Clint loved being right. Oh, Hulk had made plenty of noise, when he'd first come out. He'd even knocked everyone over with one of those ground-punch things like he'd done in Harlem. But he hadn't actually attacked. Interestingly, whatever the deal was with Banner and Hulk and how the transformation worked, it evidently took a few moments for Hulk's brain to boot up fully. Either that or Hulk's vision was for shit, because it had taken about a half a minute and a bit of sniffing before Hulk recognized Tony.

The openly pleased look on Hulk's face when recognition hit had made Clint's *year*. Yeah, Hulk adored Betty. And he adored Tony, and Clint was willing to bet solid money he'd adore the rest of the team once he understood none of them were out to get him. Clint'd had to work to keep from laughing at the exultant look on Hulk's face when he successfully remembered Logan from the fight.

Clint still wasn't sure how good Hulk could see, but the sniffing was definitely a thing. It made a weird sort of sense. For Hulk, scent was probably a far more reliable memory trigger than anything else. People remembered scents long after they would forget a name, or a face. Scent memory would probably cross over between Banner and Hulk (again, however the hell that worked) a lot easier than words, which Hulk had trouble with according to Xavier. Visual memories, which might cross over easily as well, would be substantially altered just by the size difference between Banner and Hulk. That shift in perspective would probably make visual memories very confusing for the both of them.

It quickly became clear that Hulk was smelling more than the average person did. People with a normal sense of smell didn't smell 'scared' or 'sad' as a thing. Well, unless someone pissed themselves in fear or had been crying, but that was less about smelling the actual emotion and more about adding two and two and getting four. So Hulk's sense of smell was closer to an animal's than a human's.

Also, when they got Hulk to that point? Clint so wanted to play poker with him. Hulk had no concept of a poker face. Literally everything he was thinking and feeling was writ large on his face. Mostly, it was a childish curiosity and glee, mixed with a touch of suspicion and amusement. Other emotions flashed across that broad-featured face with no attempt whatever by Hulk to hide them. Possibly because Hulk didn't know people could read what he was feeling by the look on his face. It wasn't like he'd been around people who were willing to interact peacefully enough to have learned that little factoid.

Clint had been a bit surprised when Hulk focused on him after Clint had mentioned the smell thing. He'd figured what the hell, and introduced himself. He'd parked himself next to the big guy during the rest of the introductions, earning himself a baffled look from Hulk.

More than once, he and Tony had shared looks. Tony alternated between looking like he dearly wanted to go kick Ross' face in and a mad sort of glee that Hulk was so peaceable. Clint didn't blame him on either front. Hulk was definitely a Lucky, and Clint had felt the same damn way over Lucky - and was feeling that way over Hulk.

Any doubts they'd had about his sense of smell went the way of the dodo once Hulk was introduced to Loki. Hulk knew pretty much instantly there was something screwy going on there, and if the look on his face had been anything to go by, he didn't much like it. But he'd calmed down easily enough.

Of course, Hulk wasn't completely like Lucky. In that he was, you know, twelve feet tall and insanely strong. And had a temper on him. Things went a little sideways for a minute or two when Hulk was introduced to Thor. Hulk made it *very* clear he did not approve of the whole thunder-and-lightning schtick. That said, Hulk still didn't go on the attack. He just ... well, basically he threw a bit of a tantrum.

Clint decided to do something. Tony'd not been having much of a problem talking Hulk out of getting violent, but none of them had been touching Hulk much. Not because they were scared to, but because they were being cautious. Hulk didn't have much experience with touch being a good thing, and nobody wanted to accidentally set him off.

Thing was, if Hulk held true to form, he wouldn't want to risk hurting someone he liked or that was nice to him. It explained why Hulk seemed to have settled for doing something that made people lose their balance, rather than attacking anyone directly when his temper got the better of him. So if someone was in physical contact with him, Hulk might stop even the punching-the-ground thing. Besides, Clint didn't like hanging around on the ground when there were other options. So he clambered up onto Hulk's shoulder. He earned himself a lot of 'are you out of your goddamned, alleged mind?' looks from pretty much everyone except for Nat, who just looked resigned. Hulk himself was just confused.

Clint took advantage of his proximity and started petting Hulk's hair. He had no idea if that would help keep Hulk calm, but it was worth a shot, and would hopefully start getting Hulk used to being touched without malice.

Clint did not envy Thanos and his army when they got here. By then, Hulk ought to have gotten really attached to - and protective of - the team. And if Hulk reacted to threats of violence against the team the way he did to threats of violence against Betty ... yeah. That wasn't gonna end well for Thanos. Not at all.

They opted to not do any actual training this first time. Hulk seemed to understand well enough, but Steve decided to err on the side of caution, and give Hulk a bit more time to get to know the team before throwing training into the mix. Instead, they spent about an hour working on Hulk's understanding of the world and vocabulary. Hulk had been hesitant at first, but once he realized they were in earnest, he'd actually started asking questions. Given his limited vocabulary, they surprisingly didn't have to play 'guess what he means' even once. Hulk was pretty good at compensating for his lack of words, yet another indication there was more going on in that big, green head than most folks had credited him with.

Clint was pretty damn sure the entire team wanted to punch Ross in the face when they realized Hulk didn't even know the word for 'tree'. Or, worse, 'gun'. The poor bastard had been getting shot at for the better part of a decade and didn't even know what the fuck that shit was other than that it stung when it hit him. Christ. At the same time, it was fascinating as hell to hear just how much of Bruce's vocabulary transferred to Hulk. Words like 'flying' and 'puny' and so on. Things Hulk had no reason to know, but did.

When Hulk started to lose interest, Steve had the skiffs land nearby but out of sight, and Betty came over. None of them were quite sure how to get Hulk to revert to Bruce when Hulk wasn't tired, but Betty had indicated that Hulk could and would revert pretty fast when she was around. Clint, wisely, had hopped down off of Hulk's shoulder as soon as Steve mentioned the skiffs landing.

If Hulk had a tail, he'dve gone airborne for sure when he realized Betty was there. Which, interestingly, he smelled her before she was visible through the trees. The moment he did, the team - even Tony - ceased to exist entirely as far as Hulk was concerned. He bounded - literally, one big jump - over to Betty when she became visible, grinning hugely.

"BETTY!"

Hulk picked Betty right up and cuddled her close, an ecstatic look on his face. Fuck, the big guy damn well started *purring* - or making a noise that came as close to a purr as made no nevermind. Betty had just enough time to give Hulk a hug around the neck before he shrank back down to Bruce.

"Ok, that was officially illegally cute, just so you know." Tony piped up. "Brucie, I am hurt. I thought I was your favorite?"

Bruce looked a little groggy and confused, but he rallied enough to answer Tony. "Sorry, Tony. You're only second best."

Tony pouted theatrically, making several of the team (including Clint) laugh.

Chapter Text

Sam

(_)(_)(_)

Sam called his mom right after the interview. She was, predictably, thrilled that he'd be moving back into the City. She went so far as to call Sam's older brothers and shanghai them into agreeing to help Sam move. Not that Sam had been about to fuss over having help. Packing sucked.

Sam didn't tell his mom what job he'd gotten, but she wasn't an idiot any more than he was. Less even, as all she'd known was he'd been tapped for an interview regarding a civilian counseling job. In this case 'civilian' meaning 'not military but not really civilians either'. She'd put the pieces together and come up with the right answer all on her own.

Now she seemed to be torn between pride that he'd gotten the job and worry that he'd join them in fighting. She'd worried about him when he'd been in the service. Ok, maybe 'worry' was a little bit of an understatement. She'd damn near had a stroke when she found out he'd gone into pararescue. She had also become his unit's 'mom', and had sent everybody care packages weekly. Sam figured it would only be a matter of time before she started trying to mother the Avengers. Which would be good for a laugh or three. He could pretty much guarantee that most of them wouldn't know how to handle Mama Wilson.

Unfortunately, actually packing and moving would have to wait a week or so. According to Miss Potts, everyone was heading to Asgard the next day, and Sam was invited along. And like *hell* he'd miss out on that. Seriously, he was not dumb. Getting to visit another planet? He was all over that. Fortunately, Stark had fully furnished and supplied guest suites, so Sam would be able to stay the night, rather than having to stay over at his mom's again and battle traffic to get back to the Tower in the morning.

Of course, Sam was pleased to stay overnight for more than that reason. It gave him a chance to observe the Avengers and their support people. The situation was every bit as bad as Miss Potts had warned him it was. It was actually worse, but then Miss Potts had said she wasn't around everyone all the time, and most of them kept their problems to themselves.

What fascinated Sam was that, despite how bad off some of them were, most of the Avengers had at least one person they could trust and lean on for support. Stark had Potts. The three SHIELD agents were an almost impenetrably tight triad, which hadn't surprised Sam at all given how long they'd apparently worked together as a spec ops team. Banner had Ross, the two kids had Logan, Loki had Thor, and obviously Barnes had Rogers, among other team-ups.

Thor, Rogers, Logan, and LeBeau seemed to be the only ones who didn't have an obvious support system in place. What was really remarkable about the group was that while those four didn't have people they knew well (and that knew them well) who could act as support, most of the rest of the group was trying, in various ways, to fill that gap.

Lewis had evidently settled on making sure everyone ate, whether they wanted to or not. Which was a not inconsiderable bit of help, since appetite was one of the first things affected by emotional upheaval. Most of this lot couldn't afford to skip even one meal thanks to enhanced metabolisms, which made making sure they ate that much more important. Most of the rest seemed to be offering a listening ear and/or advice. Encouragingly, Rogers and Thor seemed to be mostly accepting of that help.

LeBeau seemed to be one of the most stable of the group, and the one with the least problems going on at least at the moment. Because of that, Sam was cautiously less worried about him than the others, at least for now. Thor and Rogers desperately needed a shoulder to lean on. Thor seemed ok, but given he was an alien, Sam was taking that with a grain of salt. Even if he truly was ok now, Loki was a mess, and Thor was acting as Loki's main support. Eventually, that was going to bleed all over Thor and create problems for him.

Logan was going to be a tough nut to crack. According to Miss Potts, he was one of the amnesia cases, which meant he definitely had issues over not remembering his life at the very leasty. You'd never really know it by looking at the guy. Granted Sam only had a day of seeing the guy in action, but it was pretty clear the guy would be reluctant to talk about his problems. The guy didn't talk much, period.

The best angle Sam could figure to get a foot in the door with Logan was helping the two teens. Logan was rather obviously protective of them, so helping them out might incline Logan to at least hear Sam out later on. The protectiveness wasn't without reason, Sam figured.

The girl, Rogue, was skittish as hell. Given her mutation, a lot of the skittishness was even appropriate, but Sam had a feeling there was more to it than that. The boy, Pyro ... man, that kid was a mess. Pissed off at the world and untrusting as hell in a way that spoke to one of those abusive and/or neglectful childhoods that Miss Potts had warned him was a problem with most of the group.

Rogers was a very obvious, very public wreck. Sam gave him points - all the points - for not being insane or curled up in a corner gibbering. Sam honestly didn't know how the man was as functional as he was, given what he was dealing with. That said, Sam planned to start with Rogers, as he was the one most obviously in critical need of a shoulder to lean on right now.

Of course, Sam was going to play it off as helping Barnes. Sam was willing to bet a lot of money that as messed up as Rogers was, he would pretend otherwise and insist Barnes needed the help, not him. Which, to be fair, Barnes needed help bad. Worse even than Rogers. So Sam would be helping him too. He'd just be being sneaky about helping Rogers in the process.

Barnes. Man, Sam didn't even know where to start with him. Right now, the guy literally had no will of his own, that anyone could discern. He didn't speak at all, and didn't move unless ordered to do so. Didn't do *anything* unless ordered to, actually. That, Sam at least had a few ideas how to tackle. Choice paralysis was fairly common in the mental health field for a variety of reasons, and the treatments for that gave Sam a starting point. The talking thing would actually be even easier to deal with, if Barnes was amenable to other forms of communication. If it was just talking that was a no-no, they could teach him sign language, or even use the tried-and-true paper and pen method. If communicating at all was a problem, well, that would be a lot harder to deal with, but it was something they could still figure out.

The amnesia was going to be the big problem. Yes, Frigga had apparently said that Barnes would eventually remember. That was damn good news, but there were still problems. The first being just how long it'd take for Barnes to remember. Days, weeks, months? Frigga apparently believed it'd be on the days/weeks end of things, but she could be wrong. Even if she wasn't, would Barnes remember all at once, or would it come in dribs and drabs over days/weeks? Would Barnes remember everything, or would there be holes in his memories?

Of greater concern was the whole Winter Soldier deal. Again, Frigga had assured that Barnes wouldn't snap into that mind frame and kill everyone. Which, thank fucking god, because apparently Winter Soldier was the sort of badass who could potentially even take out Thor and Loki. Which, Sam had no desire whatever to have to deal with that coming at him, thanks kindly. That said ... once Barnes' memory was back, what was gonna happen there? Would the poor bastard end up with what amounted to a split personality, and every time he tried to fight, he'd switch to the Soldier frame of mind? Would that 'personality' (for a given value of personality) disappear completely?

Sam was concerned with that last one mostly because he knew that once Barnes was even mostly himself, he'd be liable to pitch a fit about Rogers going into battle without him. Barnes had been watching Rogers' back pretty much their whole lives, if history had it right. If Barnes flipped to Soldier every time he picked up a gun or took a swing at someone, they'd have to figure out how to help him deal with that, because Sam was willing to bet Barnes would refuse to 'retire' as long as Rogers was fighting the good fight.

Speaking of split personalities. Bruce seemed ... okish. And he at least had Betty, whom he obviously adored and trusted. Hulk, on the other hand ... yikes.

Sam had heard about the 'big green monster' from time to time in the various VA's he served as counselor at. None of the folks he'd worked with had ever seen Hulk in person, but military grunts were some of the worst gossips on the planet, so word got around. Sam had, necessarily, taken the stories with about a pound of salt.

Meeting Hulk for the first time? Yeah, that was world-altering. He was going to have to get the full story from Banner when they got back to Earth. First judgment, though? Hulk rather reminded him of an abused little kid. A twelve-foot-tall, insanely strong kid who wasn't shy about fighting back, but a kid none the less. Sam had no idea how far Hulk would be able to advance, intelligence and awareness wise, but the fact he could remember things from one appearance to the next was encouraging. They would at least not have to start at the very beginning every time they tried to work with him. Helping Hulk through whatever issues he had was going to be interesting as all hell, though. Mostly due to his lack of understanding. There were not all that many ways to work with someone whose understanding was at the level Hulk's was at currently.

Then there was Loki. Who was alien, which would complicate helping him, since there was no guarantee that he'd respond the same way humans did to human therapy. The guy was damn near as much a mess as Rogers was. Not that Sam blamed him. What little Miss Potts had told him indicated the guy had been through the wringer. And kind of made Sam want to go find Odin and punch his teeth in, because even without knowing all the details, Sam had the guy pegged as a Grade A asshole. Titanium plated. Adamantium, maybe. Because it took a special level of assholery to teach someone to hate their own people. Not to mention whatever else Odin had pulled on Loki.

Sam had a bad feeling it'd take Loki longer to untangle the mess Odin had made of his head than Sam'd be alive. And that was just the 'Odin is an asshole' end of Loki's problems. The poor man had evidently been a POW to the ... thing ... that had sent the Chitauri to conquer Earth. Again, Sam didn't have all the details there, but if Thor's grumblings the one time Thanos got brought up were anything to go by, Loki's stint in that thing's clutches hadn't been fun. Also, Thanos was in for a world and a half of pain, because Thor was rather pissed off at it. Not that Sam blamed him.

All in all, Sam was very glad he'd signed on. It'd be a challenge helping them, but Sam figured he had a better chance at succeeding than most.

Also, he'd be asking about his wings when they got back to Earth. The situation with Thanos was definitely an 'all hands on deck' situation. They needed every gun and fighter they could beg, borrow, or steal. Sam knew himself well enough to know he'd never be able to sit on the sidelines and watch other people fight and die defending the *planet*, never mind the good old US of A and not jump in himself. Besides, he missed flying in the wing pack something fierce.

It really didn't hurt that the Avengers and associates were, to a one, good people. Messed up, but good. It was pretty clear that even in the short time everyone had known each other, they'd started to form a very oddball family. And were, surprisingly, not at all shy about pulling even more people into their orbit.

Sam had expected a lot of suspicion and reluctance to interact with him, given what he'd been hired for. A lot of people disliked mental health professionals for any of a number of reasons, and gave them short shrift even outside of the 'office'. The Avengers had just sort of ... folded him right into their crazy. Granted, they could have been opting to ignore his counseling cred in favor of assuming he was there only to join them as a fighter, but still. Spec ops units weren't known for their open acceptance of new members, and that was essentially what the Avengers were. So either way, being treated as 'one of the gang' pretty much the moment he walked in the door had been a surprise. A nice surprise.

Chapter Text

Soldier

(_)(_)(_)

In the end, the only thing that got Soldier where his new handlers wanted him to go was the fact that Steve let Soldier hide behind him. Soldier didn't understand why he was suddenly so scared shitless of ... well, honestly, damn near everything ... but he was. If they'd expected him to just march to wherever, he didn't think he'dve made it, fear of being punished for failure be damned.

The little, moving, wire cage had been mostly ok. Soldier knew it would have taken him all of about ten seconds to get out of the thing if he'd really wanted to. The trip to wherever the hell they went (Asgard? Whatever the hell that was), on the other hand? Definitely not. The only good thing about that trip was he knew he was so far beyond the reach of his old controllers as to be laughable. The further away from them he got, the better he liked it.

Moving through the city they'd transported to had been unexpectedly nerve-wracking. Soldier had alternated between seeing people as threats to be eliminated and as people to run the hell away from as fast as he could manage. Mostly because roughly three-fourths of Asgard's population was visibly armed. Soldier spotted so many knives, daggers, swords, spears and other medieval weaponry it boggled the mind. Weirdly, he did not spot a single gun. Only Steve's presence - his grip on Soldier's flesh arm and the quiet words of encouragement and reassurance especially - kept Soldier from running or going on the warpath.

Part of Soldier was deeply grateful that Steve - and the other Avengers - were more tolerant controllers. He'dve gotten punished a good ten or fifteen times since his capture otherwise. And just the thought of the punishments he earned at the hands of his other controllers made him shudder.

They were led to an enormous building which, despite appearance, could not be made of gold. Because Soldier may not have known much, but even he knew that gold was not strong enough for construction of any kind. Given how unmarked the building was when they got close to it, it wasn't even built of other materials and coated in gold, because gold just did not stand up to wear and tear well at all. Which was a weird thing for Soldier to know, but he'd about given up on ever figuring out how he knew this stuff.

They were led through a bunch of hallways and then into a room that sort of made his eyes bug out. There were two enormous beds with cloth all around the sides and over the top, one on each side of the room. Each bed was flanked by furniture Soldier didn't know the name for. Between them was a sunken area that held a fire pit of all things, and a bunch of cushy seating. The far wall was almost all windows, each contained in an arch, and there was a balcony beyond the windows. It wasn't until he got smacked in the face by a breeze that Soldier realized the windows were not, actually, windows. That they were ... well, he didn't know the word for it, but they were open to the outside, with neither glass nor door to shield them from foul weather.

From there, they were led to another room. This one was even more baffling than the bedroom. Soldier had no idea what the room was for at first. It didn't look anything like a recalibration room - there was no Chair anywhere in sight. Nor did it look like any infirmary, hospital, or other medical facility Soldier had ever been in.

Wait, how the hell did he know what those things looked like? As far as Soldier knew, he'd never been in any of them. Even the Avengers had kept him in the blank room that he'd been put in when they patched him up. He could sort-of-kind-of remember his previous handlers repairing damage ... err, patching him up when he got banged up during a mission. Which he had the vague sense that hadn't happened often. Made sense, sort of, since he evidently shot people from a distance a lot. Not much reason to get banged up doing that.

He added the question of how he knew what the hell various medical facilities looked like on the inside to the growing list of 'how the hell do I know this?' questions in his head. The longer he went without being recalibrated, the longer that list got. It was getting very annoying because no answers were forthcoming.

They'd barely got into the room when a tiny, ancient-looking white-haired woman walked up to them.

"Greetings. I am Healer Eir, the head healer of Asgard." She said.

"Steve Rogers." Steve said, offering a hand to shake. "And this is ... well, we're calling him Soldier, for now."

Eir looked him up and down, then spoke directly to him. "Her Majesty has informed me that there is need to remove the metal arm you wear and replace it with another, as well as remove several items that have been attached to your spine."

Soldier just stared at her.

"He ... doesn't talk." Steve said. "He's said one word in the last ... " Steve looked briefly stunned. "Has it really only been three days? Sheeze. Feels like it's been longer than that."

"If you will sit here." Eir indicated a flat something-or-other that was several feet off the floor. "So that we can scan you and calibrate our systems to your biological rhythms."

Soldier gave the flat thing a wild-eyed look.

"Maybe you can scan me first, so he knows it won't hurt him?" Steve offered.

Eir eyed them both, then nodded. "Very well."

So Steve sat down and got himself scanned, and Soldier tried very hard not to feel grateful for Steve's tolerance. It didn't work too well.

After he got scanned, Eir spoke up. "I think it would perhaps be best for the two of you to wander about. It will give him less time to fret about things. Also, I will accompany you so that he may get used to my presence. I doubt he will come to trust me, but tolerance is better than nothing."

So they spent the day wandering around the palace and the grounds around it. Soldier found himself cataloguing the place's defenses and weak points. There were surprisingly few of the latter, despite the place's apparent showiness. Soldier wondered if the showiness wasn't one of its defenses. Most people would take one look at a building glittering with that much gold-colored metal and peg it as poorly built from a security perspective. Soldier discovered that even the open window-like spaces were not anywhere near as undefended as they appeared. Apparently, some weird-ass energy screen, similar to what Loki used to contain him, kept both foul weather and would-be attackers out (apparently the screens were smart enough to know the difference between a pleasant breeze in summer and a bitter-cold wind in winter).

A little after lunch the next day, the three of them headed back to the Asgardian version of an infirmary. Soldier didn't have much time to get spooked or anything worse than that. He'd barely sat his ass down on the flat thing (it wasn't a bed, so he didn't know what the hell to call it) before he blacked out.

Soldier didn't so much wake up as ... reboot.

For long moments after awareness returned, there was ... nothing. Just the autonomous body functions that forced his heart to beat and his lungs to breathe (if slowly and irregularly, triggered only by his body running low on oxygen).

Though he didn't know it, this state was virtually identical to his state every time he was brought out of cryo-freeze. After seven decades of that, his body had forgotten how to wake up normally. It didn't really help that despite almost a week without recalibration, Soldier hadn't consciously remembered much. Oh, he'd remembered things, but it had all been subconscious, triggered by Steve's presence or the presence of things he was very familiar with. Soldier hadn't once managed to actively pull a memory out of his badly scrambled brain.

Even Steve's version of the Serum would have struggled to fix a brain repeatedly fried by drugs and electricity. Soldier's version had tried over the last seventy years, but his being frozen stopped all healing, and additional damage was done repeatedly whenever he was awake, so the bastardized Serum had been fighting a losing battle.

Now, though, Soldier had gone a week without being recalibrated. And for the first time in seventy years, he had actually been allowed to sleep, as opposed to being put in suspended animation. The Serum took advantage of the situation and shut Soldier down in order to heal as much of the accumulated damage as it could in one sitting.

Still, for a minute or two, Soldier was deader, blanker-eyed than he'd been at any point in the Avengers' custody. But then, slowly, haltingly, things started booting back up, one by one. Conscious control of his breathing came first, and his breathing rate picked up and steadied. Gross muscle control came next, with a series of spastic twitches from various parts of his body before he went still. Fine muscle control came right on the heels of that, though that was a lot less noticeable, with only the fingers of his flesh hand twitching and moving for a moment before going still.

Then the mental gears started turning over.

The first thing Soldier became truly aware of was a stunning lack of pain radiating from his left shoulder and upper rib cage. The pain had been so much a part of his existence that he'd stopped noticing it somewhere along the way. The sudden lack of it was ... startling.

Then memories started trickling in. Oh, not all of them, to be sure. Not even half of them. And what he got he did not get in any sort of order. But everything he got did have a central theme.

Steve.

A bunch of jumbled memories of a skinny, short Steve. A handful of memories with Steve bigger and stronger. With no attendant memory of how he got that way, or how Soldier knew the two were the same guy. A single memory from what had to be very early on after his capture by ... those people. Being told Steve was dead. Refusing to believe it, and a vague, fuzzy, sort-of-memory that told him he'd paid for that with a lot of pain.

Nothing else. Nothing about who he was, whether he'd had a family or other friends. Next to nothing about the time post-Big Steve save for stuff in the background of the handful of memories that indicated something to do with the military. Only a few hazy sort-of-memories of his time as a captive - just enough to tell him it hadn't been a fun time. Which was kind of a no-brainer.

Despite how little there was ... it was more than he'd had before. At least now he knew why he'd been so interested in Steve. So willing to trust him. So reluctant to complete the mission he'd been given.

As fast as a switch being flipped, Soldier's entire world altered. Nothing in the last few days had made a damn bit of sense. But now, it was starting to. Soldier hadn't had a mission. After seventy years of missions, he simply didn't know how to operate without them, even though he was beginning to understand that there had been a time when he hadn't worked that way.

A few things had become rather clear in the last few minutes. His captors wanted the Avengers - wanted *Steve* - dead. Soldier was not willing to put it past them to have sent him to achieve that goal on purpose. The chances they didn't know Soldier had once been Steve's friend and protector had to be in the negative digits somewhere. Sending Captain America's best friend to kill him would have appealed to their twisted sense of so-called humor. Worse? It had come way the hell too close for Soldier's comfort before he'd been stopped.

Soldier still didn't know much, but he knew, now, who Steve was and why he was so important. And there was no way in hell he'd *ever* let those assholes kill Steve. Or worse, get their hands on him. Soldier would burn the world down before he let them do to Steve what they'd done to him - and that was without Soldier really remembering much of what they'd done to him at the moment. Soldier didn't know how to function without a mission. Well, now he had one. Keep Steve alive at all costs.

Steve didn't know it yet, but he'd just gotten himself a very dedicated, utterly lethal and merciless watchdog.

Problem. Soldier had no idea where he was right now, or where Steve was. That couldn't be allowed. Soldier's eyes popped open, squinting briefly against the bright lights. Before anyone had a chance to do more than look his way, he sat up in one smooth, liquid motion, checking the entire room for threats and exits.

He was in the room they'd first been led to. The one with two beds and the firepit. He was shirtless but thankfully not naked, as he was still wearing the tac pants he'd arrived at the Tower in. Steve was propped up in a chair right beside the bed Soldier had been put in, sound asleep and snoring like a bandsaw thanks to the uncomfortable position he was in.

Soldier took a few seconds to check out the new arm. It was a lot lighter than the old one, which was probably why he'd stopped hurting. His body was no longer having to throw itself out of alignment to support the extra weight. Its design was simplified, at least on the outside, but Soldier actually approved of that. Fewer weak spots for weapons or debris to get in and muck up the internal workings. It moved as smooth and natural as his flesh hand and arm. That was a considerable improvement over the stiff, slow-moving joints in the other arm. There were even places for weapons to be stashed inside the arm. Excellent. Though he had a sneaking suspicion it'd be a while before he could convince the Avengers to arm him.

Not that he blamed them. He *had* been sent to kill them, after all. They'd be the worst sorts of idiots imaginable if they trusted him with weapons this early on.

Steve, who'd always been a light sleeper (unless he was sick, then he slept like the dead), woke with a shake of his head. He went very still when he realized Soldier was sitting up.

"Well, hello there. Good to see you awake. We were getting a little worried. You slept for three days straight." Steve said.

Soldier had to fight past the fear and panic that wanted to keep him silent. This was too important. "Steve."

Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was his expression. Soldier honestly didn't know, but Steve's expression went from wary and concerned to wide-eyed hope in two seconds flat.

"You ... you remember?" Steve asked.

Soldier shrugged, unable to articulate it. The old injunctions against speaking were too strong, at least for now. He waggled his flesh hand, hoping Steve would understand.

Steve cocked his head. "Sort of?" He guessed.

Soldier nodded, then pointed at Steve and nodded emphatically.

Steve started to tear up a little. "You remember me." He said, his voice choked.

Soldier nodded, then pointed at Steve before bringing his hand closer to the floor.

Steve cocked his head for a second, then let out a wet laugh. "You remember me being little."

Soldier nodded again.

Steve eyed him. "So ... talking is not a good thing, I take it?"

Soldier shook his head hard.

"Gotcha. You obviously don't have trouble communicating other ways. We can teach - and learn - sign language so there's less guessing games going on. And ... I'm really, really glad you remember me. Really." Steve said.

He still looked like he was on the verge of the sort of messy crying Soldier only remembered having seen once or twice. Soldier did not like that. At all. He liked it even less that he was the cause of those tears, even though he was aware it wasn't really his fault. No, it was *their* fault.

Soldier was going to have fun making them pay for making Steve miserable.

Chapter Text

Thor and Loki

(_)(_)(_)

The morning after their successful attempt to interact with Hulk peaceably, Thor, Loki, Tony and Steve gathered in Loki's quarters. There was time - Barnes had yet to awaken - and it would serve as a much needed distraction for Steven, who was otherwise prone to driving Eir to drink with his hovering over his sleeping friend. Loki had suggested his rooms as the place to meet as all his spells on the rooms - including the ones that guaranteed his privacy - were still active and would be for months before they wore out naturally.

Thor ensured the palace servants brought sufficient food and drink to see them through the many hours it would take to discuss the various Realms and their rulers. Once they were all seated with drinks and plates to hand, Thor started talking.

"Since you have determined to go to Svartalfheim first, I shall discuss that Realm first." He said. "The Realm itself is extremely mountainous, with very little flat land. The dwarves all live underground because of this, in great fortress-cities that rely on warrens of tunnels as their first line of defense. The dwarves depend heavily on crops and herds raised underground, so their diet is somewhat limited. They have a few crops they grow on terraced ground on the mountainsides, but doing so is difficult. They do trade for food from other Realms, but they wisely do not depend on such trade to feed their people." Thor said.

"Yeah, smart move. They depend too much on imports and they end up starving to death if war breaks out." Tony said with a nod.

Thor nodded agreement. "Just so. Their main export is enchanted metal craft of all kinds, from jewelry, to armor and weapons, to spaceships. They respect and are intrigued by those rare individuals from other Realms who can produce like items." Thor grinned over at Tony. "They will be deeply intrigued by your armor, friend Tony. They will not inquire as to your methods of construction. They safeguard their own manufacturing and enchanting processes zealously, and consider it beyond the pale to attempt to duplicate another's methods without their express permission. That said, they will ask as to its capabilities, and whether or not you would be willing to divulge your construction methods. If you say you are, they may seek to have one of their people apprenticed to you."

Tony looked thoroughly startled for a long moment, and Steven could not restrain a chuckle. "Ok, that'd be ... interesting." Tony admitted. "Might not even be a bad idea. It'd sure foster stronger ties."

Thor nodded agreement. "Indeed, though whether you are willing for such an endeavor, I will leave for you to decide."

"Ok, question - what would they want in trade for the ships we'd be asking them to build?" Tony wanted to know.

Thor thought about that for a minute. "I believe Midgard's best option when it comes to trade, regardless of Realm, is your many forms of entertainment. No other Realm has such a wide variety of entertainments. Each Realm has its own sort of music, but Midgard has more kinds of music than the rest of the Realms combined. We have theater, hunting for food and sport, competitions of strength and ability to do battle and a few other sports, but nothing like Midgard's many varieties of sports. None of the realms have an equivalent to Midgard's radios, movies or television shows. Books are rare, generally kept in one or two libraries per Realm, and most books are factual recordings of knowledge or past events. We have a few games of strategy, akin to your chess, and of course children entertain themselves in various manners, but board games such as Midgard possesses are rare, and electronic games unknown to us. It would just be a matter of ascertaining which forms of entertainment would appeal to which Realms."

"I'm guessing the tech-based stuff - movies and television and electronic games - would appeal to the dwarves, if only for the technical aspects of creating and showing them." Tony said.

Thor nodded. "Aye, that they would. Now, as to the specific people, rather than the Realm at large. The current King is Tharginn. He is crafty and clever but honorable. He will test you, attempt to fool you and get you to agree to a trade that favors his people ridiculously or contains impossible to complete clauses. Do not hesitate to call him out on such matters, even publicly."

"Especially publicly." Loki put in. "Dwarves in general have a very low tolerance for, as you humans say, bullshit, and do not hesitate to call each other out and even get in brawls when one of their own tries such things on them. They respect outsiders who do likewise. But once you have called Tharginn on his antics and you settle on a more equal agreement, he will honor it, with no further attempts to get the best of you."

"Oh, I am going to *like* these guys." Tony said. He had the sort of toothy, anticipatory grin on his face that Thor was used to seeing on Loki's face just before his brother pranked someone.

(_)(_)(_)

"Next." Loki said. "We shall speak of the elves. They will be the most difficult to deal with and will require much planning before entering their Realm. Alfheim is a pleasant Realm, much like Asgard in most respects. It seldom suffers from truly foul weather and is generally an ideal place to live. The elves themselves, however, are given to arrogance and disdain for those who either possess no magic or are magically weak. You will have your work cut out for you getting them to heed you."

"Well, you're high on the magic scale, right? What if you do the talking?" Steve wanted to know.

"Unwise. They would take it as a sign that Midgard is so helpless and useless that they cannot even speak for themselves." Loki said. "There is unfortunately no easy way for you to win them over. Persistence will be required. Eventually, they will condescend to work with you, if only due to *his* impending attack. Whatever their faults, the elves will not wish for *him* to have his way with the universe."

Steve nodded. "Gotcha. I can do stubborn."

Which comment got an amused snort from Tony.

"You will notice that the elves come in a variety of physical descriptions, aside from all being tall and fairly slender. Be aware that, magical ability aside, they do have a caste system in place. Those elves with light hair, fair skin, and light colored eyes seldom intermix with their darker haired, skinned, and eyed fellows. The so-called Light Elves are their scholars and high thinkers - the elvish equivalent to scientists, doctors, lawyers and such."

"Anything that takes a lot of education." Tony said.

Loki nodded. "The so-called Dark Elves are almost all warriors, though there are a few who do jobs related to making war, but don't fight. They are not stupid, and are not ... precisely ... forbidden to educate themselves, but they are generally expected to stop with the basics, and to not have the mental capacity to understand the higher education items. It has been my experience that while the Dark Elves might lack for book learning ability, they are to a one ... I believe the phrase is 'street smart' ?"

"So, able to handle themselves and figure shit out in real world situations, but they don't have the diplomas or whatever to proclaim that ability to the world." Tony summed up.

"Yes, that is it precisely. They are also at least somewhat less arrogant than the Light Elves, though they still have their fair share of arrogance. At any rate, the current king is Salar, a Light Elf of course and unfortunately a prime example of the type when it comes to arrogance and disdain." Loki said, then smiled just a little. "He had the gall to treat Odin like elves treat anyone with little magical power of their own, the one time I was present for a state visit between the two. Odin was ... less than impressed."

"Ok, that's liable to make me like the guy." Tony admitted. "Because anyone who gives Odin shit is going to get brownie points."

Loki blinked at Tony. He was still getting used to the humans' extreme dislike for Odin, and their willingness to voice it. Especially since that dislike was on *his* behalf. He'd grown all too used to having only occasional defenders who generally trod very carefully where Odin was concerned, or venerated him.

"Anyway, I think I may know a way to deal with him. Out arrogant and disdain him." Tony said. "After all, he's a light elf. Not like he's going to, you know, get his hands bloody and actually fight. He's too much of a nancy boy for that."

Loki blinked at Tony again, because Tony had said that in the same sort of snooty, arrogant tone the elves usually used. Then he laughed. "That may well work." He admitted. "One last bit of advice. As I recall, we mentioned, a week or so ago, that a faction of elves broke off from the main group and started a war?"

"Yeah, I remember that." Tony said. Steve nodded agreement.

"Do not mention that incident. The Light Elves get downright nasty when reminded of that mess, and the Dark Elves have made the name of the leader of that group - and indeed any mention of that group - taboo among themselves."

"Because it was Dark elves that made up the group." Steve guessed. "And they probably made the Dark elves' situation on Alfheim that much more uncomfortable."

"Exactly." Loki said.

(_)(_)(_)

"Next, we shall discuss the Vanir, our mother's people." Thor said. "Vanaheim is the Realm most like Earth in environment. That is, it has more than one general sort of topography and weather. It is also much less rigid in the roles it allows its people to take than the other Realms. They do have roles that are generally expected of men versus women, but those that opt to take up roles traditionally held by the opposite gender are not treated as poorly as they might be on other Realms. The Vanir are, in general, fairly peaceable, though they are trained to defend themselves in war."

"You will, by far, have the least trouble with Vanir when it comes to relations. Our mother is the sister of the current King, and much beloved and respected by her people. That she has spoken for you will dissolve what little resistance there may have been to peaceable relations with you, and by extension Midgard."

"So pretty much, as long as we're not assholes, Vanir won't be a problem." Tony said.

"Just so. The King's name is Palthor, and he is Frigga's eldest brother." Thor told them, then grinned. "He is a very genial man."

"Much like Thor in many respects." Loki said. "We may all be thankful that Thor apparently takes after Mother's side of the family."

"Yeah, no shit." Tony agreed.

(_)(_)(_)

"As I know more of it than Thor does, I shall tell you what is known of Nidavellir and her people." Loki said. "Nidavellir is a fairly flat Realm. It best resembles the African savannahs, or the Asiatic steppes. Much of the wildlife is quite large and dangerous, either because they're predators that can eat a person in one or two bites, or they're prey species big and strong enough to kill a person that annoys them or just gets in their path."

"So stay alert and be ready to run or fight if something decides it wants to take a chunk out of us or stampede." Steve said.

"Very much so. The people of Nidavellir mostly live in small, nomadic tribal communities, each generally no larger than, say, two hundred people at most. There is only one city in the Realm, host to roughly one hundred million people. The rest wander the Realm, following game or moving to areas where they can farm for a year or two. Despite that, they are not inferior to the other Realms in terms of their technology or any other such thing."

"They just choose to live nomadic lives." Steve said.

"Yes. As mother mentioned, they are isolationists. They rarely visit other Realms, or allow outsiders into their Realm. I think because they choose to live so simply, for the most part, they have little to no need to trade for things with others, and not much to offer in trade. It doesn't help that they, like Hulk, are so much larger and stronger than even Asgardians tend to be. They can injure people and damage things accidentally because very little in the other Realms is built to withstand their level of strength. They tend to be a bit disdainful of the 'weak' residents of other Realms but otherwise don't show signs of the arrogance and self-superiority the elves possess."

"Good to know." Steve said.

"Their current ruler is actually a Queen. Queen Bestla."

"Hey! I recognize that name from the Eddas!" Steve said.

Loki laughed. "Yes. Though she is no relation to Odin. She's about his age, and came to the throne roughly at the same time as Odin did. She's actually the only ruler that is a contemporary of Odin's, well, now. All the others save ... " Loki made a face. "Laufey are at least two hundred years younger than Odin, and as much as several millennia younger, depending on who has actually taken up the throne in ... " His made a face again. "Jotunheim."

Norns, how he loathed speaking of *them*. Foul beasts.

Abruptly, he stood and stalked out.

(_)(_)(_)

Thor watched Loki go, and sighed. "Would that I knew how to help him with that."

"The Jotun thing?" Steve asked.

"Aye. Best I speak of them while he is gone, lest we test his temper more than we ought." Thor said. "The Jotuns, according to legend, are the third race of those among the Realms to come to be, with the first two being the now-extinct Muspelheim and Niffleheim people. Though which of the two was first is a matter of much debate. Once upon a time, they were a great and noble people, but at some point, tragedy struck, and they changed for the ill. Why they became so bent on war, I do not know. It could just have been a madness in Laufey, or it could have had some legitimate spur. Insofar as I know, Odin never ascertained the cause, nor cared, and I do not think anyone else ever questioned it either."

Thor sighed. "At any rate, their population is very small, and their society all but shattered beyond repair. Laufey's wife Farbauti yet lives, but she cannot be the legitimate Queen, as she is not of the Royal line, but married into it. That said, she may well be acting as Queen, as they no longer have the Casket to enforce the rule of the royal-by-birth line. If she is not, rule would fall to one of her elder sons, Byleistr or Helblindi. Which of them would take up the throne, I know not. Other than that, there is very little I can tell you that I know to be truth."

"Just lots of biased tall tales, huh?" Tony asked.

"Verily. It shames me that I did not think to question them before my exile. With all that the other residents of the Realms are capable of, it should have struck me as odd that Jotuns alone were capable of evil and naught else." Thor admitted.

"And that leaves only the Asgardians." Tony said, then grinned at Thor. "Who we kind of have an in with, so to speak."

Thor laughed. "Yes. Especially as I shall be the next King eventually. Mother is younger than Odin was, but even she will not live forever. Nor would she cling to Gungnir when age starts to make ruling difficult, or the day finally comes when I feel ready for the throne. I will have my work cut out for me before that day, however, as when the time comes, I fully intend for Loki to rule beside me, as my equal."

Tony whistled. "Yeah, that's gonna take some doing, buddy. But maybe we can at least help you get started."

Chapter Text

Jarvis and Pepper

(_)(_)(_)

In the end, Jarvis won a number of battles ... but lost the war.

Given that Yelena had been given food at the same times every day by robotic remote and had not had a visitor after Dr. Xavier, Jarvis did not know how - or to be truthful, if - Yelena Belova knew that the Avengers and their associates had left the Tower.

Whether or not she knew, Yelena Belova began her escape attempt twenty four hours, six minutes and ten seconds after everyone left for Asgard. She timed her attempt for the arrival of one of her meals, when by necessity the hatch in the bottom of the door was opened.

What followed was a twenty-hour long battle between himself and Belova. Jarvis had deployed every security measure the Tower possessed save shooting the woman in the head in an attempt to keep her from escaping. Given that she managed to overcome everything else, Jarvis was not convinced that a bullet to the brain would have stopped her. It would have stalled her escape, perhaps by as much as weeks, since Jarvis refused to believe anyone short of the Hulk could recover from that sort of injury swiftly. But that would have been the best case scenario.

The first ten hours or so had been a battle between the Tower's stock of knockout gas and other tranquilizers and Yelena Belova's ability to metabolize them and continue trying to escape. Jarvis managed to return her to the cell twice in that period (and she failed to get out of the cell four times before succumbing) while she was unconscious before he ran out of the gas and sleep agents. The Tower had enough of a supply of both to deal with an attack by normal human agents, who would go down and stay down for half a day or more with the application of the gas and tranquilizers. The Tower did not, unfortunately, have enough of either to deal with someone who required three to four times the dose an unenhanced person required, and who could metabolize that dose within an hour or two and refuse to stop trying to complete their mission.

Still, he was successful in slowing her down and, thankfully, diverting the remaining Tower residents, especially the security teams, away from Belova. That meant that at least there were no injuries or fatalities in the Tower. The better news was that he was able to inject her with a tracker after adding one to one of the ampoules of sedative he tried on her early in the escape. Given all that transpired, Jarvis sincerely doubted that she would realize such a thing had been done. He would be able to follow her to her masters, now.

Sir had warned Jarvis that they would be unlikely to be able to keep Yelena Belova from escaping. Jarvis had, at the time, even agreed with Sir. Still, Jarvis utterly abhorred failing Sir in any particular. He could not quite prevent himself from wondering if her escape was possible only because of some fault in his programming.

Thoroughly displeased both with events and himself, Jarvis turned his full attention to the information that Agent Romanov had divulged. This, he excelled at. Taking incomplete information duly imparted by some source, whether human or electronic, and finding every scrap of further information available from the sources available to him.

Ascertaining whether or not the places Agent Romanov had divulged were still in use was the first task, and perhaps the easiest. Tracking power grids and how much power went to which locations was child's play to Jarvis. Disconcertingly, all but the oldest of the locations was still in at least occasional use. Most of the locations had been vacated for a time after Agent Romanov defected, and again when she joined SHIELD. However, when no raids on the locations occurred after at least a year, the locations were put back into use at least part-time.

Jarvis discovered that the eldest of the locations had been abandoned simply because construction in the area damaged or destroyed the locations. The newer facilities were all in areas that saw little to no construction for any of a variety of reasons.

Tracking down the people was much, much, much more challenging. Jarvis was, not for the first time, glad that he was not organic, and thus did not require sleep. Even at the speeds he was able to operate when it came to obtaining and sorting through information, he required a full two days of nonstop work to track down and collate information on the current whereabouts and activities of even a handful of the persons Agent Romanov had been able to name.

Even to a non-organic being such as himself, the information Jarvis discovered in the process of developing those dossiers was horrifying.

HYDRA, despite the deaths of Johann Schmidt and Arnim Zola, was alive and well. Worse, if the data Jarvis had collected was accurate, they had learned, had evolved. Jarvis had no idea, as yet, as to the scope of the problem, but he knew better than to believe that only a handful of believers in that foul group and their ideology were all that existed. Fortunately, as he was extremely careful (by default) when seeking information, he had not tripped any alarms that he could detect, so for now HYDRA remained unaware that their continued existence had been discovered.

Jarvis was reasonably sure that even the capture of Sergeant Barnes did not concern them in that regard. What Jarvis had been able to dig up indicated that they had been careful to keep HYDRA specific items well away from their 'Winter Soldier' due to it making him unstable faster. Given how often they had wiped Sergeant Barnes' memory, they had every reason to believe that information lost to him, and thus unavailable for retrieval by the Avengers.

Captain Rogers was going to be apoplectic. Come to that, Jarvis rather strongly believed that most, if not all, of the Avengers and their associates would be infuriated. Jarvis foresaw a great many missions to eradicate HYDRA in the coming days. It was a necessity. Jarvis was quite sure that given what would transpire over the next year as the world prepared for the arrival of Thanos and his army, that HYDRA would take advantage wherever possible.

All told, Jarvis was extremely relieved when the Bifrost touched down on the roof of the Tower and disgorged the majority of those that had left.

(_)(_)(_)

"Miss Potts, I am relieved that you have returned. There is much I must impart."

Such was Jarvis' greeting when Pepper walked into the penthouse, the rest of the gang sans Tony, Steve, Thor, Loki and Barnes trailing behind her.

And hadn't Barnes' inclusion in the 'Around the Realms' trip been ... an interesting discussion. Even Pepper, who had known deaf people in the past, had not known that someone who could not (or would not) speak could be so expressive and stubborn. Everything else aside, the whole thing had boded well for Barnes' eventual recovery from what he had endured. That said, Pepper hadn't been the only one to be both highly amused and a little heartbroken by the whole thing.

Pepper shook off those thoughts and concentrated on the current situation. Because she knew there was one. Jarvis was very good at sounding calm and unconcerned. Unfortunately, he had a habit of acting that way only under specific circumstances. It was a remarkably reliable tell for Jarvis being upset, and thoroughly convinced that what he had to say would upset her or Tony (or both).

She shot a glance at the others. "Privacy mode necessary, Jarvis?"

"No. Everyone will need to know this information." Jarvis said.

Oh boy. Definitely not good news. And from the look on several faces, they knew it too, despite not being familiar with Jarvis and his tones.

Everyone found seats.

"All right, go for it, Jarvis." Pepper said, mentally bracing herself.

"The first news I must impart is that Yelena Belova has escaped, despite my best attempts to prevent it. I have video if anyone wishes to review it but I must caution you that it is less than pleasant viewing material. I was, however, able to ensure that no one was hurt or killed during her escape."

"Well, that's good news. And Jarvis, you knew she'd get loose at some point, and so did we. We're certainly not going to blame you for it happening." Pepper told him. "Perhaps if we'd gotten her to one of SHIELD's facilities she'd not have gotten out, but somehow I doubt that."

"Given the events that occurred during her escape, I find I must concur." Jarvis said. "I was able to inject her with a tracker, which she has not yet noticed, and have been following her movements. When she returns to her handlers, we will know where they are currently operating out of."

"I'll want a look at that video later, Jarvis." Phil spoke up. "It will give us a better idea of her capabilities, especially as compared to Natasha. There is, in this instance, potentially quite a difference between the best and second best."

"Of course, Agent Coulson." Jarvis said.

"So what else have you got for us, Jarvis?" Pepper asked. Yelena escaping would have upset him, but not, she didn't think, quite to the level of upset he seemed to be at.

"After Yelena Belova's escape, I began an in-depth attempt to track down such persons and places as Agent Romanov divulged to me in her briefing." Jarvis said. "The news is not good."

Pepper actually glanced towards one of Jarvis' cameras in concern. That flat, almost purely 'mechanical' tone was *not good*. The last time she'd heard that tone out of him, Tony had disappeared into Afghanistan and Jarvis hadn't been able to find him. That tone was Jarvis doing his level best not to imitate his human creator by flipping right the hell out.

"All but three of the locations Agent Romanov gave me are still in use at least part time. The three that are defunct were damaged or destroyed by nearby construction projects. All of the locations were abandoned for at least a year subsequent to Agent Romanov defecting from the Red Room, and again when she joined SHIELD. Most were then reclaimed and used, given the power readings I was able to track down, only for whatever missions the remaining Widows and, presumably, occasionally Sergeant Barnes, performed in those areas before being shut down until the next mission. Two locations, however, were reclaimed and returned to continuous use."

"That will give us somewhere to start, at least." Phil said. Pepper nodded.

"I might be able to do something from my end." She said. "Obviously, dealing with these people directly isn't my bailiwick, but if those locations are near SI offices or factories, or belong to businesses we compete with, I can cause trouble from that angle."

"The situation is, I fear, more complicated than that." Jarvis said. "I have succeeded in ascertaining the whereabouts of five of the personnel that Agent Romanov was able to identify. One died in a car wreck. The further circumstances surrounding that incident lead me to believe that the person was assassinated by his own people. Apparently, his usefulness had come to an end. The other four are still alive and presumably still active in Red Room's operations. But that is not the greatest problem." Jarvis said.

"In the course of pursuing information on the oldest of the persons on the list, I unearthed some very disturbing information that hinted at a larger, more global conspiracy. Further investigation led me to a most unexpected and unwelcome source." Jarvis said.

Aha. Now they were getting somewhere. This, Pepper knew, was the source of Jarvis' upset.

"Ok, so what's the bad news?" Pepper asked.

"It is my unfortunate duty to report that HYDRA is alive and well." Jarvis said.

Well, Pepper hadn't been expecting *that*. Any of a number of things, but not that.

"How sure are you?" Phil wanted to know.

To his credit, the question wasn't 'are you sure' or 'could you be mistaken'. Phil might not know exactly what Jarvis was capable of but he knew damn well that Jarvis was extremely impressive.

"The likelihood I am mistaken is less than .000001 percent." Jarvis said. "It would seem that in the wake of the death of Johan Schmidt and Arnim Zola's capture, that HYDRA went underground. Unfortunately, they seem to have learned from the mistakes that were made in World War Two. I have been able to ascertain the existence, but not the precise placement, of agents in nearly every country around the globe. Further, the Red Room and Weapon X programs were both, ultimately, HYDRA programs, carefully concealed behind multiple shell organizations."

That got a severely pissed-off noise from Logan. Rather understandably, Pepper thought. He'd suffered unspeakable torture at the hands of the Weapon X program, even if he couldn't remember much of it.

"While I have not found proof, and may not, I suspect that to some degree HYDRA was involved in Dr. Banner's troubles. Perhaps not the creation of Hulk, but the likelihood of them interfering after that point is high due to their demonstrated interest in the Serum." Jarvis said.

Pepper was white-faced with horror. "That means ... HYDRA was responsible for Sergeant Barnes' ... situation." She said. "And I can't even begin to hope that was accidental. Steve and James were too well known to them."

"Quite so." Jarvis agreed.

"Dibs on *not* telling Steve." Clint piped up. "And I vote that we start finding where these cockroaches are hiding. We're going to need targets to aim him at."

"Agreed." Phil said, then actually sighed, just a little. Just enough that Pepper noticed it. Which was rather telling, given that Phil wasn't much for obvious displays of emotions. "And I'll tell Steve when they get back."

Chapter Text

Peter

(_)(_)(_)

After his encounter with John, Bobby, and Rogue, Peter had a lot of thinking to do. He returned home that night, and spent the next couple of days lying low and thinking. The lying low was because if he was right with his assumptions and the three teens had an 'in' with the Avengers, he wouldn't put it past them to be trying to find him.

A brown-haired, brown-eyed teenager named Peter wasn't much to go on in New York City in the normal course of events. This, however, was about as far from the normal course of events as it was possible to get. Peter wasn't going to put *anything* out of the realm of possibility when it came to Tony Stark, two I-shit-you-not Norse gods of legend (Peter didn't think he'd stop spazzing about that for a while) and very possibly Bruce Banner. So no doing anything that a 'normal' teenager wouldn't do. It would hopefully buy him a little more time if they were looking for him.

At first, he had kind of wanted to go 'thanks, but no' and not take the teens up on their offer. He'd already lost Uncle Ben. He couldn't ... just couldn't ... lose Aunt May too, if some jackass with a vendetta tracked her down because he was hanging out with really ultra visible superheroes. Also, if he took them up on their offer, he'd *have* to tell Aunt May. She was giving him funny looks as it was. There was no believable explanation for how long he'd be gone whenever he went to the Tower to do ... whatever ... that didn't involve 'hanging out with supers'. Peter had no idea how she'd react to the news, and honestly, it'd kill him if she turned her back on him.

But then Peter really thought about it. If he hung around the Avengers, the risks to Aunt May would increase, yeah, but there was also the whole thing where it was the Avengers. Peter seriously doubted they'd sit on their butts and tell him tough luck if someone started hunting her. Having that kind of backup to protect her would reduce the danger, because there couldn't be all that many people out there who'd take on two gods, the Hulk, Iron Man, various mutants, and whoever 'Black Widow' and 'Hawkeye' were. Meaning, what they were capable of. It stood to reason they were ... not 'normal' humans, given the company they kept.

So, in the best case scenario, Aunt May would be well-protected, so that was one con taken care of. Leaving him with the other one. The big one. The possibility of her turning her back on him. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous. Aunt May was one of those really common-sensible people. Peter hadn't ever heard her say bad things about mutants in general. Oh, she'd had plenty to say about folks who used their abilities to hurt people or steal or stuff like that, but in general? Nope. Still, he couldn't quite dismiss the fear that the mutant/powered thing would prove to be a problem when it stopped being academic and something that other people had to deal with, and became something she had to deal with.

So those were the cons. The pros, though ... yeah, that list was a little longer. Like, he'd have access to people who could help him figure out just how stable his abilities were. Peter'd woken up from spectacular nightmares where he continued mutating and eventually became an enormous spider, or where his powers stopped working mid patrol and he fell to his death instead of being able to hang onto the side of a building. Also, he'd have access to better tech. His web-slingers worked, but they were by necessity very bare-bones and could use a few improvements. Unfortunately, as things stood, Peter just didn't have access to what he needed for the improvements without resorting to stealing.

Last but not least, he'd have help figuring out what all he could do, and how to make the most of it. He'd figured out a few things on his own, but his ability to experiment was rather limited. There weren't all that many places in the Big Apple where a person could play around with superpowers and not attract attention one way or another. He couldn't really work on it outside of the city due to how long it would take to get somewhere suitable. Not without Aunt May knowing what was going on, anyway.

There were also non-powers pros. Like the possibility of lab time with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Something that Peter would never, ever say 'no' too, because seriously, he wasn't stupid.

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the more he realized going to the Avengers was probably the right thing to do. He just ... he had to figure out how to break the news to Aunt May. After he talked to the Avengers. That way, he'd have somewhere to go if Aunt May freaked out on him.

Of course, his luck kicked in. About the time he'd decided to go to the Avengers, the news stations, which had taken to stalking the Tower at all hours, reported the bright light on the roof. Peter had no idea what that was about, but since there hadn't been a portal spewing creepy-ass aliens, he figured it wasn't bad news. Still, he decided to wait a few more days at least, just in case all heck was actually breaking loose and the Avengers were dealing with something.

Then the light thing happened again a few days later, and Peter figured out what it might be. Thor and Loki were ... well, not from around here (and Peter was dying to find out all about that). It stood to reason that their method of going home for a visit would not involve a car or a plane.

He waited until the next morning, which was coincidentally (thankfully) a Saturday. He jammed his suit and web shooters into a backpack, told Aunt May he was heading to the library to do some research for a project, and headed to the Tower. He loitered outside of it for a good fifteen minutes, cold sweat trickling down his back as his heart tried to beat out of his chest. Eventually, he managed to swallow the fear and anxiety, took a deep breath, and walked in.

The lobby was ... well, pretty insane. The relief effort was ongoing, and Stark Tower was still playing host to most of the 'command centers' for the various relief groups. At this hour, a lot of teams were either reporting in to find out where they were needed for the day, or coming in after working overnight. SI employees were also streaming in and out due to shift change, or running errands, or whatever. Not to mention the folks who wandered in for a gander at the lobby and what little else of the Tower was open to the general public if they weren't part of a scheduled tour.

Oh, and don't forget said tours. SI had them pretty regularly, trying to lure high school and college students into their sphere of influence. Not that they had to work all that hard at it, really. SI was one of those companies that folks would forfeit a limb to work at. Tony Stark might have a reputation as a manwhore and gadfly, but he made damn sure his people got treated well and paid even better. The company was well-known for its zero tolerance policy when it came to bigotry and prejudice. Also, the fact that Stark hired brilliant people no matter where they came from, what they looked like, or what genitals they'd been born with or currently possessed.

So Peter had read the information available on the 'net. He was a science geek, and really, SI was pretty much every geek's dream job. He had been looking forward to the tour of the Tower his school had scheduled for early June before he'd gotten bitten and so much had changed. He'd been good enough at the sciences that he'd dared to hope that he'd maybe get SI's attention. It'd been a bit of a pipe-dream (at least until he got through college anyway), but everyone was entitled to one of those.

He headed for the enormous desk, where a quartet of people sat directing traffic and talking to thin air. It took Peter a moment to realize they had headsets on and were probably answering phone calls. He swallowed nervously, then took a deep breath when it was his turn.

"Ummm. Hi. Could you ... ummm ... tell John and Rogue that Peter's here?" He asked the woman.

He was surprised when her face lit with a friendly smile. "Of course, sir. We were asked to keep an eye out in case you showed up." She touched her headset. "Jarvis, if you would inform John and Rogue that their guest has arrived?"

Peter didn't hear the answer, but a moment later, the woman pointed towards the bank of elevators. "The elevator with the gold and red doors." She said. "Will take you to your friends."

Peter managed, just barely, not to snicker at the fact that the elevator that evidently led to the Avengers was in Tony Stark's signature colors. Somewhat to the man's credit, the other elevators were also color-coded. Some had normal silver doors, two were black, and one had blue doors. Peter assumed the black and blue elevators led to labs or the like, as there were fewer of them than the standard silver elevator doors.

He wove his way through the crowds to the elevator, which opened at his approach, startling him. The door closed and he glanced around, one eyebrow going up when he realized there were no floor buttons or, really, any way to control where this elevator went save for an emergency stop button and a phone to contact the outside world if the elevator got stuck. Obviously, this elevator was controlled somewhere else. Very probably at the discretion of the Avengers. Peter didn't envy anyone dumb enough to try to get at them this way.

The doors opened onto what looked like some sort of entertainment floor or something. At least, there was an enormous television screen and a couple game systems visible that Peter recognized. Also, lots of very comfy looking seating. Oh, and a kitchen. Cool.

That was about all he had time to notice before John and Rogue, who'd been waiting near the elevator for him, greeted him.

"Peter! Awesome. I was hoping you'd take the offer, man." John said, grinning at him.

Peter smiled back reflexively. "Thanks." He said. "I'm leaning really heavily this way, but I wanted to be sure, you know?"

"Yeah. C'mon, everyone's in the dining room. Well, not everyone-everyone." John said. "You should have come a few days back. We went to *Asgard*, dude. It was ... " John blew out a breath. "Just, yeah. It was. Hope we get to go back sometime. Anyway, Cap, Tony, Thor and Loki are still there, so it's not the *whole* gang."

"That's ... actually kind of a relief." Peter admitted. "I mean, I really want to meet Mr. Stark, but ... "

"Having to deal with everybody all at once might be a bit much?" Rogue asked, looking sympathetic.

"Yeah, that." Peter said.

He almost ran out of the dining room half a second after entering it. Because even with those four absent? It was *really overwhelming*. Also? He knew what Black Widow's thing was. The ability to terrify people into incoherence in two seconds flat without saying a thing. Or really even moving. Peter didn't even need the danger-sense that came with his powers to have 'DANGER WILL ROBINSON' shrieking in his head at top volume the moment he laid eyes on her. Being that terrifying had to be a superpower. The sweet-as-pie, I-wouldn't-hurt-a-soul smile she flashed at him, probably because he looked as terrified as he felt? *did not help*. It just made his brain shriek all the louder.

The worst part was, the vast majority of the people in the room? Only marginally less terrifying. That included the guy in the suit making an effort to look harmless. Which he couldn't possibly be, given the company he was keeping. Hell, that he was doing his best to look like a normal businessman just made it worse. The only ones that didn't make him want to run screaming from the room because they terrified him were the black guy he didn't recognize from the publicity the Avengers and X-Men had gotten, and Bruce Banner. Bruce Banner made him want to flail and run from the room for a different reason.

"Umm. Hi?" Peter offered when his brain finally stopped gibbering. "I ... ummm ... they invited me?" He waved a hand towards John and Rogue, both of whom looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh at him.

"Relax, man. Nobody's gonna bite you." The black guy said, getting up and coming over, offering a hand. "Sam Wilson, since you probably know at least the names this lot goes by in public. I'm a new addition to the gang, so I know how this lot comes across."

The look Sam shot Black Widow was ... telling. And relieving. At least Peter wasn't the only one to be scared crapless of her at first meeting, since Sam seemed ok with her now. Peter accepted the handshake and felt himself unknotting. As much as the others terrified him, there was something about Wilson that encouraged him to relax and trust the guy.

"So, John and Rogue said something about you being a mutant?" Sam asked.

Peter grimaced. "Not ... exactly."

Chapter Text

Bruce and Peter

(_)(_)(_)

Well. So. The attempt to work with Hulk had gone far better than Bruce had ever dared to hope. Tony, rather predictably, had taken video of the entire thing. He had evidently put recording equipment in trees around the are they'd chosen for the attempt. It was, actually, the first time Bruce had been able to see Hulk in action clearly. There'd been a few very shaky videos on the internet - snippets of the incident at Culver and in Harlem mostly, since his other incidents hadn't taken place in very populated areas, never mind areas that were both populated and affluent enough for the residents to possess some form of recording device *and* an internet connection. Unfortunately phone cameras did not good videos make. Especially when the people holding said phone cameras were running and hiding for their lives. The video Tony had taken had been crystal clear and perfectly steady.

And it had changed literally everything. Left Bruce with a *lot* to think about. He'd been grateful for the distractions being in Asgard provided, above and beyond those provided by helping with Sergeant Barnes. Bruce knew he really needed to think about this and deal with the conclusions he came to, but ... overturning the beliefs of nearly a decade was not easily done, nor was it a comfortable process. So procrastination was a relief.

He got something else to think about and deal with when they got back to the tower, but really, thinking about that was liable to bring Hulk out to play, because it made him more than slightly hot under the collar. So it was a relief the next morning when Jarvis announced that 'Peter' was in the lobby.

John and Rogue had told them about the kid. That he was too strong for his size, and moved oddly to boot. That they'd offered to help him. That they'd send him on to Xavier if the Avengers wanted them to, but had figured that having someone in the city Peter could contact first would be a good idea.

The kid who'd come into the common floor dining room had taken all of a half second to fixate on Natasha, and look utterly terrified. Smart boy. Before Bruce could do anything, Sam stepped up and managed to set the poor kid more at ease. Or at least, get the kid to *look* less terrified, anyway. Then things got interesting.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" Bruce asked, interest abruptly piqued. Because if he wasn't a mutant ... well, that opened a whole host of possibilities. Some of which wouldn't have been on the table a year previously, but seeing as aliens actually existed, they were now. Bruce wasn't about to discount anything anymore, no matter how unlikely it sounded.

"It's ... ummm ... complicated?" Peter offered, wide-eyed and shifty. "I mean, I ... kind of wasn't born this way? There was a thing. At Oscorp. A tour thing. I went. And, well ... spider."

Bruce tried hard not to laugh. Peter was clearly still very nervy if that nearly incoherent babble was anything to go by. Not that he blamed Peter at all, really. Even taking Natasha out of the equation, there were a lot of people and abilities to be scared by in the room. Peter was also giving Bruce a look that was pure adulation. Bruce remembered getting that look a lot before the accident that had created the Hulk. Science geek kids got that look when in the same room as someone they wanted to emulate, or thought was the best thing ever. Once upon a time, Bruce had been pretty high on the list of people such kids geeked out about.

Bruce patted the seat next to him ... the one Tony usually commandeered. Betty always took the one on the other side. Was, in fact, sitting there now with the sort of amused look in her eye Bruce knew well. She'd spotted the fanboying too.

"Come take a seat, and try that again? Like Sam said, we won't bite. I promise." Bruce tried. It was even odds if the kid would take him up on the offer or faint.

Peter scurried over, and Bruce began to see what John and Rogue (and Bobby, who'd been there at the time, but returned to the mansion) had seen. Peter moved ... oddly. Part of it could be the nerves the poor kid was obviously dealing with, but there was something in the way he moved that reminded Bruce of Remy. Which hinted at the kid's skeleton and/or musculature not being standard human.

"Dr. Banner. I ... ummm ... " Peter didn't quite seem to be able to speak coherently, and looked to be half a second from flailing.

Bruce took pity on him, and smiled. "A fan of my work?" He guessed.

Peter nodded, then visibly tried to gather himself into something resembling coherence. He took a deep breath and blew it out, then tried again.

"Ok, so. About ... two months ago? Maybe a bit less? My class went to Oscorp on a tour of their R & D division. They had a bunch of spiders they were working with for something. One of them had escaped its cage, somehow, before we arrived. And bit me. I got really sick that night, but the next day ... " Peter flailed a hand. "Yeah. Powers. I'm like, really strong. Not sure *how* strong, controlled testing isn't a thing I've been able to manage, but well above normal for even, like, a weight lifter. And I can climb and stick to anything. Even glass."

Bruce's eyebrows headed for his hairline. The story beggared belief ... if you weren't an Avenger. There were stranger stories with that lot. That said, they needed to get Peter into a lab as soon as possible. There was no telling what *else* could happen. "I'm guessing finding out more about that is at the top of your list?" He asked.

Peter nodded emphatically. "Yeah. Definitely. I've been, you know, doing stuff. Mostly trying to get a handle on the strength, really. It's ... pretty extreme. Noticeable, if I'm not really super careful. And sometimes even when I am. And I really don't want to get the wrong sort of attention, you know?"

"Worried about your parents?" Bruce guessed.

He wasn't prepared for the flash of grief on Peter's face. "Ummm. No. It's just ... me and my aunt. She ... doesn't know. At least I don't think so. She's pretty smart, so she might. But I just ... " Peter did flail then, one hand flapping over his head. "She's got enough to deal with."

Phil piped up then. "You are concerned that she might react badly?"

(_)(_)(_)

Peter made a see-saw motion with his hand. "She hasn't ever said anything bad about powered people in general. About the ones that make trouble? Oh yeah. She has plenty to say about them." A smile flickered across Peter's face. "She ranted for *days* about the thing at the Statue of Liberty. I was kind of afraid she'd try to find that Magneto guy and, like, put him over her knee or something."

Peter wasn't quite prepared for Rogue and John damn near falling out of their chairs laughing. Most of the adults looked at least vaguely amused.

"I would pay to see that." Rogue gasped out between giggles.

Peter grinned. "Yeah, I was kind of the same, except when I was going 'oh god, please no, that would end badly'." He admitted. "But I guess part of me can't help but think that being ok with powered people who are ... " He waved a hand. "Over there and, you know, not related to you and that you don't have to interact with is different from one that's, you know, living in your house."

He sighed, and focused on the table for a minute. "And my uncle died a couple weeks after I got bit. So I haven't really wanted to put more on her than she's already dealing with."

He shifted in the chair, curling his legs more under him. It wasn't that sitting 'normally' hurt or anything like that. It was just that the crouching thing he'd started doing after getting bitten felt ... more comfortable? Natural? Something like that.

It was also one of the reasons he tended to worry about the changes just keeping going, because really. Less than two months, and it felt more comfortable/natural to crouch than to sit? That was worrying. And god help him, if he ever suddenly developed the ability to shoot webs without technological help, he was going to freak right the hell out.

"Do you know the species of spider that bit you?" Dr. Banner asked.

Peter sighed. "That's part of the problem. They were crossbreeding and manipulating genes." He said. "They had one that was a combination of all the most lethal spiders, one that was a combo of the best web-spinners, that sort of thing. The one I got bit by was supposedly the spider version of Captain America. Peak performance in all categories. And there's no telling *what* they did to get that spider, or what they did to it once they had it."

"Would you be ok with me taking a few blood and skin samples?" Dr. Banner wanted to know.

Peter heaved a sigh of relief. "Yes, please. At least as long as they stay here. Not really wanting god and everyone to have access to that stuff, you know?"

"Very much so." Dr. Banner agreed. "C'mon, we'll head down to the labs." He pushed to his feet and headed for the elevator.

"I'll probably have to leave after you get the samples." Peter admitted as he followed behind. "My aunt thinks I'm at the library doing research for a school project." He sighed in relief after they got out of the dining room. "And can I just say that you guys are a bit much to handle? Because wow. Seriously."

Dr. Banner nodded. "Not a problem, though I do recommend you tell your aunt as soon as you can. The longer you wait, the more complicated things will get." Then he grinned. "And just think. This is us on a quiet day. I'm actually kind of glad you didn't show up before we went to Asgard. We weren't exactly at our best at the time."

"I've been considering it off and on since the bite." Peter admitted. "It's mostly just getting up the nerve to break it to her. Most of me knows she won't freak out, but part of me insists that she will." He rolled his eyes, then snorted. "You guys not being at your best? Now that's kind of a scary thought." Peter said. "And do I even want to know what got you guys in a bad mood?" He asked.

"You'll probably need to know, as it's going to affect things around here for the foreseeable future." Dr. Banner told him. "At least the basics, anyway. Short version is, HYDRA is still around, and they sent an assassin to take some or all of us out."

Peter flinched. "Ok, I can see how that would make people cranky. Especially Captain America." He agreed.

"It gets worse. The assassin? Was Sergeant Barnes, Steve's best friend. HYDRA apparently found him and ... well, did very-not-nice things to him." Dr. Banner said.

Peter stopped in his tracks and stared at him in horror. "They ... he ... oh, man. That ... " He let out a whistle. "Yeah. Definitely a bad day all around, I'm guessing."

"To put it mildly." Dr. Banner said. "That's actually why we went to Asgard. Their healers could help Sergeant Barnes where ours couldn't."

"Well, that's good." Peter said as they walked into the lab. He tossed his backpack onto a counter, hopped up next to it and automatically settled into a crouch.

"So. Is now a good time to say I'm a *huge* fan of your work?" Peter asked with a grin. "Seriously. Huge."

He was a little startled when Dr. Banner laughed. "Tony said almost exactly the same thing when we first met, just before the invasion." He said. Then Dr. Banner pointed at Peter's bag. "What's in the backpack?"

Peter blushed a little. "My ... stuff. Well, for the spider thing. I kind of more or less accidentally got into the crime fighting gig, and I didn't want to be recognized, so I put some stuff together."

"So you *are* the so-called Spider Man." Dr. Banner said as he pulled out the things he'd need to take samples from Peter. "I was wondering, after you said you got powers."

"Yeah. I've tried to stay out of pictures, but that's not all that easy." Peter said. "The less people know about me, the less danger my aunt's in."

"All right." Dr. Banner said. "Roll up your sleeve, please."

Peter obeyed, and Dr. Banner drew two vials of blood, then took skin scrapings from various places. Or started to. He got a little distracted by the microhairs on Peter's hands.

"This is ... this is fascinating. I presume this is how you're able to cling to surfaces?" Dr. Banner asked.

"Yep." Peter said, then, unable to resist the temptation completely, he kicked off his tennis shoes (the hairs could not reach through that much material) and leaped upwards towards the ceiling and clung there, looking down at Dr. Banner with a grin.

"I have no idea just how strong the grip thing is." Peter admitted. "But it's at least strong enough to keep me where I want to be. How much I can carry without starting to slip is one of those things I haven't really figured out a safe way to test."

He hopped back down to the counter he'd been crouching on. "Not like there's all that many places around where I'd have a nice soft spot to land if my grip gave."

Dr. Banner nodded. "I can see where that would be a concern." He agreed. He did manage to get all the skin samples after that.

"I will check these over. It'll be at least a few days before all the results are ready." Dr. Banner told him.

Peter pulled his shoes back on. "Thanks. I really, really appreciate it. I'll come back in a couple days, then?"

"Sooner if you like." Bruce said.

Chapter Text

Soldier and Loki

(_)(_)(_)

Having made Steve his mission, Soldier was determined not to leave Steve's side. That sticking so close to him was a comfort - the only stable thing in Soldier's rapidly-changing world - didn't signify. At least, Soldier didn't let himself think about that part of it. His wants and needs did not figure into ... well, into anything. They hadn't since he'd *become* Soldier. All too often, any expressed want or need had been used against him. So he learned not to think about that sort of thing in the rare moments he'd been able to think at all.

At least now he knew he hadn't always been this way. That once upon a time, he'd been a person. And that, maybe, he'd be a person again someday. Certainly, the Avengers didn't seem to have any desire to quash his increasing awareness. They'd not once denied him necessities like food and water. They'd not once even attempted to hurt him out of malice. Sure, Thor had pounded on him, but that had been in an attempt to capture him, not because Thor just felt like pounding on him. All he had to do was not fall back into *their* hands.

Just thinking about that made him want to hide in a corner. Preferably with as many weapons as he could get his hands on. Not that he was entirely sure he'd actually be able to shoot the bastards if they showed their faces. They'd done their damndest to train that out of him. The weapons just being present would be a bit comforting even if he never used them.

There were two good things about sticking close to Steve. For one, he heard everything the Avengers talked about. If not immediately, then quickly enough as the discussion made the rounds of the group. The other good thing was that because everyone was bouncing in and out of Steve's orbit, he got a good look at how they worked together, and which of the lot he could trust to have Steve's back if he went down. Not that he intended to, but plans had to be made.

Romanov made him twitchy as hell. He knew she went rogue, but he couldn't quite keep himself from giving her the stink-eye every time she got anywhere near Steve. Rogue or no, she was still dangerous as hell. And independent agents could be bought or suborned. Worse, with her training, they wouldn't know she'd been bought or suborned until they were dead.

Stark ... Soldier didn't know why, but something kept telling him the guy was good for at least munitions and supply support. The suit ... well, Soldier hadn't seen that in action enough to know its capabilities, or how reliable Stark was in combat.

Thor and Loki? Definitely suitable support for Steve. What Thor couldn't smash to hell and gone, Loki could ... well, do whatever the hell that green-gold stuff was to. Banner, he wanted as far from Steve as he could get. Soldier hadn't seen the monster personally, but the briefing from *them* indicated the thing could make a smear of Steve without half trying and had a tendency to smash everything in sight when it showed up. Barton ... Soldier didn't know what to think. On the one hand, the guy apparently never missed. On the other ... *arrows*. Bullets were much, much better. More reliable. Such a quirk would never have been permitted by *them*.

Which, in its own way, just recommended the Avengers all the more, that they let the guy have such a quirk. That they actually catered to it, if a brief discussion of specialty arrowheads he'd overheard was any indication. The others hadn't been in the brief he'd been given by *them*, so Soldier knew little to nothing about any of them to decide if they were suitable backup for Steve. Well, he'd keep watching.

Then he overheard a conversation that indicated Steve, Stark, Thor and Loki were going to split off from the Avengers and ... well, do something. He'd not understood part of the discussion. And they were going to send him back to Earth with the others.

Steve had clearly been torn about that. Which was really all the impetus Soldier had needed. He couldn't do his mission if Steve wasn't present. Still, he waited until it was just the two of them. He trusted Steve, but he had no idea how the others would react if he seemed to get argumentative.

Besides, it was easier trying to wrangle just Steve. Weirdly, it felt like something he'd done before, even if he couldn't remember it. While it was a relief to remember something, Soldier was left wishing he remembered ... well, not all of it. If he never remembered his time in *their* hands clearly, he wouldn't complain ... but the stuff prior to that? He really kind of wanted to remember all of it. Because the bits he'd gotten were incomplete and driving him nuts.

At least communicating (to a certain degree) mission-relevant data was less of a problem than talking in general.

Soldier caught Steve's eye and made several gestures. It was the military handsign equivalent of 'You are not going off on your own, you idiot'. With Soldier's expression conveying the 'you idiot' part of the equation. Then, more emphatically, came the equivalent of 'I am going to be watching your back whether you like it or not.' Again with Soldier's expression conveying the 'whether you like it or not' part.

Soldier didn't realize it but he was instinctively using signs that Steve would recognize, rather than the more modern equivalents that had been codified well after Steve had gone down in the ice.

Steve gave him a look that Soldier didn't quite know how to parse. "B- ... Soldier." Steve sighed. "You can't. I wish you could but it's just not an option. We're going to be doing a lot of talking and politicking. People might take it poorly that you're not talking to them."

Soldier gave Steve a look that very plainly said 'tough shit' before reiterating 'I am going with you, you idiot' in sign and expression. Then, because Steve was not buying a clue, he actually spoke. "Misson protect."

Steve choked and went wide-eyed. Then, apparently, he got over the surprise of Soldier talking and figured out what Soldier had meant, because he started getting distinctly teary-eyed. "Protect me, you mean." He said, voice rough with emotions Soldier didn't quite know how to quantify.

Soldier nodded, then repeated the 'going with you' signs, giving Steve a mulish look at the same time.

Steve pulled himself back together and cocked an eyebrow at Soldier. "Can you even deal with weapons right now to act as my protection?" He asked.

Soldier just lifted his metal hand and curled it into a fist, the message clear. Who needed weapons when he could just punch anyone idiot enough to try something?

"We're gonna ... we're gonna have to talk to the others." Steve said. "But as long as they don't have a problem ... "

Soldier couldn't quite keep the smirk of success off his face. It very quickly fell off when he turned away and realized they hadn't been quite as alone as he'd thought. At some point in the discussion, the Potts woman had come by. She was standing near the door, watching the two of them with her eyebrows well up.

"Well, at least if there's a problem, there won't be a problem keeping things under control." She said. "And it's probably for the best he not go back to Earth right away anyway. The odds of whoever had him eventually trying to get him back are high. The more time he has to deal with the damage they did before that happens, the better."

"Yeah." Steve said. "I was kind of thinking along the same lines myself."

(_)(_)(_)

Loki would say this much for certain Asgardian troublemakers. They had wit enough to wait until the odds were more in their favor.

The odds were still extremely poor. Loki could have told them that. He didn't yet trust it to last, but for the time being Thor had pulled his great, golden head out of his posterior and was both paying attention and willing to clout anyone that troubled Loki.

It was quite a pleasant state of affairs, but also quite disconcerting. Loki had long wished that Thor would grow up. He had not put any great thought into what a mature Thor would be like, save for being less prone to injured-ego driven tantrums. In the last weeks, Loki had had the privilege to catch glimpses of the king Thor would eventually become. And Thor was bidding fair to become that king far quicker than Loki had dared hope.

At any rate ... Loki could have told the troublemakers that even with most of the Midgardians returned to their Realm, the odds of them getting away with their usual schemes were dismal. Odin may have ignored people treating Loki ill (and thereby encouraged such behavior) but Frigga and Thor were not so inclined. Nor were Steven and Tony.

At least it hadn't been the Warriors Three that had decided to taunt Loki. That ... would have gotten exceedingly messy on all sides. No, it was a quartet of young men all in the same age range as Thor, Loki, Sif, Fandral and Hogun.

They were all sons of high-ranked courtiers and soldiers. As such, all four of them fancied themselves proper boon companions to the Crown Prince. Had Thor actually been a more traditional Crown Prince, they may well even have been his boon companions. But Thor, despite excelling at traditional (proper) pastimes for an Asgardian prince, had rather eclectic tastes when it came to his boon companions.

None of the quartet had taken it well when Thor had passed them by in favor of a woman, a native of Vanir (Hogun), and Volstagg, who was both older and did not present the 'proper' appearance of an Asgardian warrior, thanks to his rather rotund stomach and love of food and drink. Oh, and don't forget Loki himself.

Loki kept company with Thor rather than gather his own company of lesser personages suitable to accompany the second prince. Worse, he employed both magic and long-distance weaponry as a matter of course in battle, rather than using sword and spear as was proper. They had even criticized Fandral for his interest in his appearance. As Fandral was otherwise an exemplary Asgardian warrior, he came in for less harassment than the rest of the group but that wasn't saying much.

One of the men, Daufin, had made a pastime out of harassing Sif every chance he got. Though he'd been wise enough to never do so in Thor's sight. The cretin had still to realize that he could lay many of his misfortunes at Loki's feet. Loki and Sif had never gotten along well, but Loki had been all too happy to punish Daufin's effrontery in Thor's stead whenever he caught the man harassing Sif. Sif had forbad them all to interfere, but thanks to his magic, Loki was able to punish Daufin with her none the wiser.

As befit the quartet's usual behavior, they waited until Thor had absented himself from Loki's company in order to make final arrangements for their tour of the Realms before they made their approach. Steven was in the quarters he and Sergeant Barnes had been given, with Sergeant Barnes. Loki had taken it upon himself to show Tony a few things about Asgard that Thor would not have thought to show off. Being a man of great intelligence and insatiable curiosity himself, Loki had a fair idea of what would appeal to Tony.

Loki had had every intention of putting the quartet in their place, but much to his amazed amusement, he'd not had to. Tony had launched one of his verbal offenses. Between the speed at which he spoke and the terminology he used, he left the four bewildered but nevertheless aware that Tony had taken offense at their mockery of Loki.

Interestingly, Loki had a suspicion that Tony had discovered flyting somewhere. He hadn't rhymed everything, but he'd gotten a fair few rhymes in. Enough to make it clear that's what he was doing. Loki was ... delighted. He'd known, of course, that Tony was as near to being his equal in snark and smartassery as it was probably possible to get. They'd gotten into a few snark wars over the last few weeks, all in the name of fun. This, though, was the first time he'd spotted Tony deliberately attempting to make things rhyme.

Loki could hardly wait to teach Tony the finer points of flyting. It was going to be so much fun!

Things might have gotten a bit sticky at that point. The quartet wouldn't have taken Tony's mockery at all well. Loki, however, stepped in as he'd planned to before Tony had a go at them. He gave the four a flat glare and let his magic shimmer green-gold around his hands. The four immediately started to look ill at ease and cast about for an easy escape from their impending predicament.

"You dare to mock. Yet see how curs cower at the first show of a power they can neither possess nor defeat. Begone before you test my temper further." He snapped.

Wisely, they got.

Once they were gone, Loki cocked an eyebrow at Tony. "And pray tell, when was I going to discover that you were learning to flyte?"

Tony grinned at him. "Well, I'd hoped to wait until I was better at it. It's surprisingly challenging to put things together so they rhyme all the way through a good insult."

"I shall have to give you a few pointers." Loki said. "You didn't do at all badly for a first public attempt, especially as flyting does not exist as such on Midgard. And it has been quite a while since I had an opponent who could keep up with me. Mother can, but she rarely indulges in such crass entertainments."

Chapter Text

Tony (Svartalfheim, Part 1)

(_)(_)(_)

Tony kind of wanted to laugh. Kind of. When he didn't want to punch people in the face. Watching Barnes with Steve ... yeah. Definitely laugh-and/or-punch-assholes territory. Because even with about ninety percent of his memories missing in action, Barnes was all about Steve. And even with minimal speech and memory, the guy knew how to handle Steve better than the rest of the Avengers combined.

Though to be fair, part of how fast Steve folded could very easily be because of the whole 'Barnes is seriously fucked up and Steve does not know how to deal with this' thing. Still, if you ignored that context, watching the two of them together was a hoot. Tony kind of wished it was possible to have seen them in action back before the war.

All of which explained why Barnes was going with them on the tour. He'd turned up stubborn and Steve had caved. Tony couldn't point too many fingers, though, because he'd folded in about five seconds flat just from looking at Steve and Barnes' expressions. Tony was utterly convinced that it was literally impossible for anyone to deny the pair any damn thing they wanted when they looked at people like that. Fucking Serum and its attendant superpowers. Shit.

At least he had the comfort of knowing Thor and Loki had caved nearly as fast as he had. Though Loki, damn him, had caved with an expression that said he was caving more because he was outnumbered than because he was falling for the puppy dog eyes. Though to be fair, that kind of made sense. Loki *had* been dealing with Thor for centuries, and Thor had a hell of a puppy dog expression on him. Stood to reason Loki had developed an immunity.

All that said, watching Barnes dog Steve's heels was kind of making Tony's chest ache. He really, really hoped Jarvis had some targets for them to aim Steve at by the time they got back because Tony was betting that Steve would be just about desperate to pay the bastards that had hurt Barnes back by then.

"Ok, so." Tony said, eyeing their little group. And the leather pouches Thor had in one hand. "What's the deal with those, Fabio?"

"These are supply pouches." Thor said. "These." He held up the ones in his hand. "Provide foodstuffs from Asgard's kitchens. You have but to reach in and pull out what you want of what is available. They never run out."

Tony whistled. "Clever. No supply lines that way."

Thor nodded. "Indeed. While we will mostly be dining with our hosts, we will be traveling for most of a day to reach the rulers in every Realm save Svartalfheim. Their capital city is only a couple hours from the Bifrost landing area."

"But under a lot of rock, making it a lot harder to get at than the other capital cities." Tony said.

Thor nodded.

"All right then." Tony stepped into his armor and let it fold around him, grinning a little. "Let's go meet the dwarves. Meet you at the take-off room."

With that, he launched and flew over Asgard's capital city. He got a lot of attention, since he'd not flown around in the suit at all.

Asgard wasn't all that bad. Kind of stuck in the equivalent of, like, the eighteen hundreds or so, when it came to a lot of stuff socially, but not epically horrible. And Tony had a strong suspicion that Frigga would drag Asgard into a more modern mindset whether they wanted to go or not.

Heimdall gave Tony the side-eye when Tony clomped into his guard room or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. Tony ignored him. Tony did not like him. Creepy bastard, watching everyone and everything. Also, treasonous. Tony was man enough to admit he had issues with people that did the sort of shit Heimdall had done. Especially when they got away with it unpunished.

Hopefully, Frigga would fix that too.

Thankfully, Heimdall was willing to allow the mutual ignoring thing to continue. So they mostly stood there in silence waiting for the others to arrive. Which they did about a minute after Tony had. Apparently, Loki managed to talk them into letting him teleport them. Tony figured Thor and Steve for easy sells on that one. Barnes would have been the tricky one, simply because he didn't know what the hell Loki was doing.

They got into position and Heimdall sent them off.

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the information the HUD was giving him. Mountainous didn't even begin to cover it. Thor had *not* been exaggerating when he said there was very little horizontal real estate in Svartalfheim. From the readings, they were smack in the middle of a mountain range that made the Alps look like the Appalachians for height, and made the Andes mountain chain look short as hell.

First interesting tidbit was that Svartalfheim had a higher oxygen concentration than Earth, and a slightly denser atmosphere in general. Because they were standing on a flat patch of ground that was just over twenty-five thousand feet above the valley floor below. How high they were compared to sea level, Tony wasn't sure. For all he knew, that valley floor was a couple thousand feet below sea level. Yet the atmosphere density and oxygen levels were comparable to being closer to fifteen thousand feet up. The gravity was also a touch higher. Not much, not even a full quarter more than Earth, but it was there.

There was also actually a sea nearby. About fifty miles or so away on the other side of the mountain they were standing on, going by the salinity in the air. Though it was possible their air just had more salt in it along with the oxygen, Tony didn't really have a way of finding out. Tony couldn't get much more than what he already had without an uplink to Jarvis, but what he was getting was interesting enough.

Also? They were being watched. It only made sense, as this was where hostiles could most easily make planet-fall without having to challenge Svartalfheim's enormous space fleet. That said, the buggers were very well hidden. If Tony hadn't had heat vision on the HUD, he'd never have known anyone was there. Thankfully, it was cold as hell this high up, so spots warmed by the presence of a warm body showed up really clearly.

Tony thoroughly approved of the road to their capital city. It was narrow - barely enough for a big horse to travel without fear of a misstep making for a very long tumble down the mountainside. It was also just steep enough that both mount and rider would have to keep their full attention on the road.

Fortunately, with Loki on hand, they didn't have to worry about that. As they'd planned, Tony flew himself along the road, following the path to ... hah. A big old hole in the ground, complete with wide but relatively short metal doors.

These guys were totally Tolkien's dwarves. Tony was willing to bet they had spells on those doors to prevent them from getting smashed in easily at the very least. He landed and a few moments later Loki and the others appeared just behind him.

Seconds later, they were facing something like twenty dwarves. Who did not look anywhere near as comedic as the Hobbit movie made them look. More like Gimli in LotR. Armed for bear and deadly serious. They each had enough sharp implements to make even Romanov jealous. And not a one of them taller than about five foot five.

These were *definitely* his people.

"Ahh. Prince Loki. Prince Thor. You and your guests are expected." One of the guys said, then eyed Tony with great interest. "I take it these are the Midgardians?"

Tony let the faceplate pop up, fighting down a grin at the start of surprise that got, though a smirk escaped when they startled a second time when they realized there was a person in the 'metal thing'.

"I'm Tony Stark. That's Steve Rogers, and that's Soldier." Tony said, then let the suit collapse down into the suitcase. He really, really didn't bother hiding the smirk at the outright avaricious expressions that little show got from the dwarves.

Definitely his people.

"This way."

They were led into a big room, with a bunch of smaller openings, also guarded by metal doors, into the mountain's depths. The smaller openings also had rails embedded into the rock, presumably for carts or some other form of transportation.

That assumption was proved correct when a cart arrived in the mouth of one of the entrances. It bore little resemblance to mine carts of any variety. Actually, it looked a bit more like the sorts of thing you'd find in a carnival ride. Two 'cars', really, one for the dwarf driver, one for the folks taking a ride. The car they were using had seats for up to ten Asgardian-sized people, evidence the dwarves had enough visitors that they built stuff to accommodate people bigger than they were. The seats were nicely padded and had seatbelts. There were also grab bars to hold onto around curves.

And curves there were in plenty. The cart went fast enough to qualify for a carnival ride. Not the insane speeds that some theme park rides could hit, but the slower speeds that traveling carnival rides worked at. Still enough to make it hard to judge distances or accurately count openings passed or turns taken.

They passed openings roughly every fifty to a hundred feet and were going in a generally downward direction. Which was about the best Tony could do in terms of figuring out directions. Because again, Thor had not been exaggerating about the underground labyrinth. They went up and down and left and right so many times Tony lost track within the first five minutes. Even the very basic computer in the suit available to him without Jarvis would have had a time of it keeping up with the route they traveled.

Eventually, after about fifteen minutes of travel, they started passing dwarf-sized doors. At first they were pretty rare, as in one door to any one fifty to a hundred foot long corridor of rock. Probably barracks, Tony thought. Or other, non-critical things that, if an enemy got this far, wouldn't spell trouble for the dwarves if they got taken over. Also, the advent of the doors meant the tunnels widened, allowing for foot traffic to either side of the rails. There were also a lot more lights. And more noise. Until they hit what Tony decided to dub the outskirts of town, the only noise had been provided by the cart and its occupants. Now, though, there were other noises. Distant and indistinct as yet, but present and getting clearer the further they traveled.

The doors got a bit more frequent, but never more than two to a section. The noise level, though? Got a whole lot louder. And then the cart started slowing down considerably, to more of a walking pace. They passed through a section with no doors on the walls but three sets of metal doors that would close off the tunnel.

And then came out in fucking Khazad-dum in its fucking heyday. There was absolutely no other way to put it. Because the center of the fucking mountain was basically hollow. There were pillars of stone and metal, carved with all sorts of designs, going from ceiling (at least he presumed, he couldn't see that far overhead) to floor as well as much shorter columns supporting individual levels. There were about twenty levels he could see clearly from where they came out, each with doors every ten feet or so and a minimum of twenty feet between the doors and the edge of the ledge the level sat on. The rails turned to one side and stopped in what amounted to a parking lot for the carts. Not all the levels had such a parking lot that Tony could see, but at least four others did. From here, clearly, they would be walking. The level they'd come out on was about ten levels above the 'ground'.

The levels were connected both by stairs along the edges and by bridges that crisscrossed the open expanse. And the place was teeming with dwarves and even some residents of other Realms. At least, Tony spotted some folks that were a lot taller than the dwarves seemed to be in the crowds. It was bright enough down here to rival the best lighting Earth could manage in places sunlight couldn't reach. The smell of cooking food, molten metal, and many (albeit clean) bodies in a self-contained space competed for attention. There were brilliant-colored tapestries scattered all over the place to relieve the monotony of color available underground. The clothes of the dwarves who weren't wearing armor were just as colorful - a riot of bright and light colors.

The bottom-most level seemed to be a public hanging-out zone. Tony was pretty sure there were other meeting places on the varying levels, but space on those levels was more limited. The bottom-most level could probably hold ten thousand people, if they stood close together.

"This way, please." The dwarf that had driven the cart said.

Tony grabbed the suitcase and followed the guy. They crossed one of the bridges, going up a level in the process. Then they had to go up two staircases and across another bridge (going down a level) before they came to what was obviously the throne room. Very tall, ornately carved metal doors, ten dwarf guards armed to the teeth outside the doors. And, Tony noticed, no direct, easy access to this spot from any of the cart entrances he'd seen. An invader would have no choice but to cross at least some of the city to get here. Which meant they'd have to deal with a whole heck of a lot of pissed-off dwarves.

Tony grinned back at the others. This ... this was awesome and it was going to be so much fun. He'd gotten the definite impression that he would like the dwarves from what Thor had said, but christ. He was kind of in love with the lot of them already, and he'd barely talked to any of them.

Chapter Text

Tony (Svartalfheim, Part 2)

(_)(_)(_)

Asgard's throne room had been fucking huge and apparently gold plated. Mostly, in Tony's judgement, on the gaudy and somewhat impractical side of impressive. The dwarves' throne room ... yeah. This? Was what a throne room should be.

It was long - about twenty-five yards long. It was also comparatively narrow - only about twenty-five feet wide. There were no support posts or partial walls anywhere for invaders to use as cover. More important, there was a second level to the throne room. All around the edges, there was a narrow-looking walkway with a stone-and-metal wall along its edge. And on that narrow walkway were at least fifty dwarves armed with bows and arrows and, Tony imagined, a lot of throwable weapons that he couldn't see.

An invader'd be lucky to make it halfway to the throne at the far side of the room before they were killed. Provided, of course, they made it as far as the throne room at all.

What was really cool, though, was that the dwarves hadn't forsaken form for function. The walls were covered in intricate murals done in metal and jewels. The designs reminded Tony a lot of Van Goh's work, as there were a lot of very thin threads of metals doing swirls and loops to define whatever shapes were required. About halfway down the room, Tony had to pick his jaw up off the floor because the murals changed. The metal threads and jewels moved into different configurations until a new mural scene was in place. It was the fucking coolest thing Tony had ever seen when it came to art.

Tharginn reminded Tony just a little of Thorin from the movies. Black hair shot through with silver, short but full beard and dark, watchful eyes. Didn't look like him other than that, but yeah. Tharginn was dressed in some surprisingly practical-looking clothes for someone on a throne. A sky-blue shirt, a pair of pants that came as close as made no nevermind to blue jeans, again in a pale blue, and sturdy leather boots. His crown was actually a circlet, sturdy but small and not likely to hamper movement. His only apparent nods to his own protection were a silver-colored breastplate, and what looked like Mjolnir sitting on the floor next to him. Tony was guessing the big-ass hammer was the dwarf version of Gungnir. Frigga had mentioned every Realm had such a thing. Neither Loki nor Thor had mentioned the subject, but it made sense that a *tool* would be the dwarves' King-maker.

A big point in the dwarves' favor (not that they needed more) was that there were actually two thrones on the small dias. Tharginn sat in one, and his wife sat in the other. Tony couldn't help but like her a little because she was wearing a fire-engine-red shirt. With a gold-colored breastplate. Disappointingly, she was wearing black pants and boots. She had the sort of light brown hair that people argued over it being brown or dark blonde, and eyes the same color as Heimdall's. Which Tony had noticed because eyes like that didn't happen with humans, and Heimdall *never blinked* so it had freaked him out a little.

When they got within about twenty feet of the dias, Tharginn got to his feet with a broad grin. Tony noticed that the dias (which was only one step up off the floor) put Tharginn right at eye-to-eye height with him.

"Prince Thor! Prince Loki! You are both most welcome. Introduce us to your companions."

"King Tharginn, Queen Aldvi, This is Steven Rogers, one of Midgard's defenders, and the leader of their premier company. This is Soldier ... a compatriot of Steven's who was recently very ill-used and is currently recovering." Thor said, then motioned at Tony. "And this is Anthony Stark, another of Midgard's defenders and an artificer of great skill."

That got Tony a keen, assessing look from Tharginn. "Is that so?"

Tony just grinned. "I'm so far ahead of everyone else on Midgard it'll take them a good fifty years to catch up to me." He said. Which wasn't even a lie.

Tharginn didn't quite look like he was buying it, but that could very easily have been an act. "We shall see." He turned and held a hand out to his wife in a gesture that was ... very much *not* all about public showmanship. Oh, there was some of that going on, but it was pretty damn clear that Tharginn wasn't shy about showing his regard for his wife even when dealing with strangers.

"I would make known to you my wife, Queen Aldvi." He said.

Tony gave her the courtliest bow he could manage. He did know how to do that sort of thing, after all. He just ... didn't generally bother because he usually had better things to do. Many better things. "Your Majesties."

Steve bowed as well, a touch more stiffly. Tony had a feeling that was more because Steve was unsure of himself than any other reason. Soldier, rather predictably, never even twitched.

Then Tharginn spotted Mjolnir, and about blew his top.

"What is this! Who has dared to place enchantments ... " Tharginn sputtered.

Thor looked a bit sheepish. Which was apparently all Tharginn needed to put two and two together.

"Your father, was it not? We were a bit confused when he was dumped on our doorstep. After Frigga came and explained what had happened ... well. He was taken to the southern coal mines and put to work."

Tony nearly had to bite his tongue bloody to keep from laughing his ass off. Loki was nearly cross-eyed trying to keep a straight face too. Steve and Thor both looked like they wanted to laugh but weren't sure it was politic to do so.

"Hmmm. I will go so far as to admit that perhaps an enchantment ensuring only the worthy can wield Mjolnir might be wise. Her power is immense. That said, it might be wise to alter the measure by which worthiness is judged. I dislike the idea of worthiness being judged by Odin Borson's measures." Tharginn said. "Fortunately, as he is no longer King of Asgard, the enchantment he placed can be altered, if only by another King."

Tharginn patted the dias. "Place her here, Prince Thor."

Thor did so after a moment's hesitation. Tharginn put both hands on the hammer and started muttering under his breath, quietly enough that Tony couldn't hear what he was saying. Blue-white lances of light, not unlike lightning, began dancing over Mjolnir and Tharginn's hands. After a few moments, Tharginn lifted his hands and stood back up.

"There. It is done. Mjolnir will now choose for herself who is worthy."

The question Tony wanted to ask must have been all over his face, because Tharginn focused on him. "Magical weapons all have at least some small measure of a will of their own. Mjolnir, being one of the more powerful and sophisticated magical weapons, approaches true sapience and thus has the capacity to judge whether or not a potential wielder would use her for ill ends or no."

"Fair enough." Tony said. Then, because he could not resist it. "Since we're showing off ... with your permission, your majesty, I'd like to show you something." He glanced up at the guards overhead. "It may be a bit startling, but it is not a threat to you or your queen."

Tharginn cocked his head, then nodded. "Very well."

Tony set the suitcase on the ground and kicked it into action, but not around him. Fortunately, he'd made it so the thing would fold out without having to wrap around a person for the purposes of maintenance and repair. Tharginn's eyebrows headed for his hairline as he watched the suit unfold. When it stopped moving, he walked a circle around it.

"Intriguing. I assume that normally it wraps around a person?" He asked.

"Yeah, this mode is so I can check it for needed repairs and that sort of thing."

"What is the function of these circles on the palms?" Tharginn wanted to know.

"They've got two functions, actually. The suit is flight-capable, and the circles in the palm are flight stabilizers. They can also act as weapons."

"Hmmm. The force needed to keep a man and a suit in the air would be suitable to at least knock an enemy down." Tharginn agreed. Tony had seen the look Tharginn was wearing in his own reflection more times than he could count. It was his 'This is awesome. I want to know more so I can do it better' look.

"This empty circle in the chest?" Tharginn asked.

"Place for a power source." Tony said. Which was all they were going to get, because yeah. Tony was not getting into *that*. "Want to take a peek at the helmet? It won't close properly, I don't think, but you can still see plenty."

And there went the 'kid in a candy store' look. Tony fought down a triumphant grin as Tharginn handed his circlet to Aldvi without a word. Tony pulled the helmet off the suit, and offered it to Tharginn.

The helmet didn't fit. Tharginn might be shorter than Tony, but he was wider, including his head. Still, despite the fact the helmet couldn't close properly, the HUD would still work. He couldn't quite stop the delighted snicker as Tharginn spent a couple minutes alternating between 'what' and 'oh, I get it' as he tried to figure the HUD out, sounding more and more excited all the while.

Eventually, Tharginn took the helmet back off and handed it to Tony, dark eyes dancing as he settled his circlet back on his head after Aldvi handed it back to him.

"I begin to think that Prince Thor was not mistaken as to your skills, Anthony Stark." Tharginn said, a definite note of respect in his tone.

Tony gave him a toothy grin. "Wait until you see it in action, your Majesty." He said. "And call me Tony." He put the helmet back with the suit and kicked it back down to suitcase form.

Tharginn nodded. "As you will. Now, Frigga mentioned that Midgard has need of a space fleet to help protect your Realm against that madman Thanos."

"Yeah." Tony agreed. "I've got a few ideas that way, but Midgard hasn't quite gotten to space ships on that level yet. We've been in space plenty - we even have a space station, but we're still working out the fine points of space travel."

"Truly? Midgardians have been in space? That is quite the feat. As I recall, Midgardians have been around for roughly six million years?"

"In one form or another, yes. True civilization, rather than hunter-gatherer tribes living hand to mouth, has been around for roughly two hundred thousand." Tony said.

Tharginn actually whistled. "Even six million years to go from first civilization to space flight in any capacity is extraordinary. I believe the fastest to evolve to that stage were the elves, at five million. At that, the space exploration came after their magic became so strong. It allowed them a few shortcuts the other Realms didn't have. The other realms all took anywhere from eight million years to twelve to begin space flight. That Midgardians have managed it in two hundred thousand years ... " Tharginn shook his head. "Truly impressive."

Tharginn waved a hand, rather clearly dismissing the subject, somewhat to Tony's regret. He kind of wondered what made the difference between humans and the other Realm residents, that they'd gotten so far so fast.

"Since you do not yet have a fleet of your own, I think perhaps it is best to show you the possibilities, so that you can have some idea of what you will want to ask for." Then Tharginn grinned at Tony. "Besides, you and your people have no idea what dwarves can really do. Now, come. This will involve a bit of a trip. I could show you schematics, of course, but really, showing you the real thing is so much better. And more fun besides."

Tony perked up. Ohhhhhhh. They were going to get to see one of the dwarves' ships? That promised to be awesome as hell. He picked up the suitcase again and the lot of them trooped out of the throne room, back across the bridge that was apparently the sole access to the throne room, up six flights of stairs and across another bridge to another heavily-defended room with big white dots on the floor. Big enough for even Hulk to stand in comfortably.

Right, Tony realized. Transportation room. Given that Tony had seen Loki teleport, he was betting this was the same sort of deal, just between set points. One of the dwarves guarding the room fiddled with something on the wall, and the world went white.

When Tony was able to blink the spots out of his eyes enough to see, his first concern was Soldier, who hadn't exactly responded well to the Bifrost trips. He'd been better the second go-round, but he'd still been rather wild-eyed and had had a death grip on Steve.

Yep, wild-eyed and clingy, but Steve seemed to be handling it. Tony glanced around then. They were in a room a good deal smaller than the one they'd just left, with just two white circles on the floor. Tony decided he was *not* going to try to figure out how in the name of hell they'd gone from each standing in their own circle to standing in two groups like that. Fucking magic. It was cool as hell but it also drove him batty.

"This is my personal craft." Tharginn said. "It is usually kept on Svartalfheim, so I thought it would be best to give you a proper tour with."

He did show them around, and Tony rather liked the little ship. Like everything else to do with dwarves, it was built with optimum function in mind, but didn't sacrifice form entirely in the process. There were lots of curves and rounded edges, and from Tharginn's explanations of which panels of buttons did what, laid out very practically.

And the viewscreen on the bridge made his geeky little heart trip. Hell, the bridge made his geeky little heart trip full stop. Bridge. Of a Space Ship.

Tony very deliberately didn't look at the others. He had a bad feeling they were laughing their asses off at his attempts to not visibly geek out *too much*.

Then they got out into space and anything even remotely resembling dignity and decorum got shoved out the nearest airlock. Because in all his geeking out about the dwarves and their stuff, there was something that had escaped Tony's mind.

The dwarves had an enormous space fleet. Far larger than any other Realm's. Where the hell do you *park* such things when they're not in use?

The dwarves had a mother-fucking, I-shit-you-not *SPACEDOCK*.

Chapter Text

Tony and Thor (Svartalfheim Part 3)

(_)(_)(_)

Tony squealed. Whatever, he was secure enough in his masculinity to admit it. He did. Like a little girl getting the pony she'd begged for for Christmas. Thank goodness there were some unused seats on the bridge, because he'd also kind of had to sit down, put his head in his hands and concentrate on breathing for a minute there.

Because seriously. This sort of shit ... it was basically a wet dream come to life. And what drove him abso-fucking-loutley insane was that the dwarves - none of the other Realms - had computers. They did all this shit with magic. It kind of made him want to tear a ship apart and figure out how that worked. Ok, not kind of, definitely. Definitely. He had a burning need to know, damnit, and he was *going* to pin one of these magic bastards down and make them tell him at some point. Very probably literally.

And he was officially unfriending *everyone*. Because every last one of them was laughing at him. Loki, the rotten fink, was doing so openly and literally. Everyone else - including Soldier which was just plain mean - was grinning or just generally looking way the hell too amused. Tharginn was looking smug alongside the amusement, the brat.

Well, he sort of had a right. They'd been having a bit of a playful one-upsmanship thing going there, and he definitely won this round. Which, it had to be said, he did have to go to spaceships and spacedocks to win. Tony had a feeling he'd win a round or three showing Tharginn around Earth.

The Spacedock was fucking gorgeous. Even if it did sort of resemble a spider. There was a big central section that looked like it housed some of the smaller ships. The big ships, though, parked alongside long 'piers' that extended out from the central hub of the station. The ships? Were basically sex on a stick. Sleek and slick and utterly deadly looking. Sort of like a B-2, but not as angular. All the edges were more rounded, even on the big bastards that couldn't possibly make planetfall. The smaller ships - a few of which were moving around in the space around the dock - looked like they were fully optimized for escaping and re-entering planetary atmospheres. Neither the spacedock nor the ships had windows, which both pleased Tony and made sense given that the dwarves lived underground and were used to not having them. Humans might like and even need windows but they were a weak point both structurally speaking and security wise. Even if the glass itself was equally as tough as the metal or whatever surrounding it, the seam between the two presented a potential problem.

Tony took one last deep breath and got to his feet. Right. Time to get to work.

This was going to be so much damn fun.

(_)(_)(_)

From the moment an ambassadorial trip to the various Realms had been mentioned, Thor had known that the visit to Svartalfheim would be ... interesting. Whatever his other attributes (both for good and ill) Tony Stark was an artificer at heart, and even without the aid of magic, one good enough to rival a goodly number of dwarves. Not their master crafters, to be certain, as the strength of the magic their master crafters could bring to bear put their creations well outside anything Thor had thus far seen on Earth, but definitely somewhere in the middle.

Combine that with Tony's sometimes excitable personality and yes, Thor had forseen much fun on this trip. Obviously, Loki had been of like mind, because Loki had made a point of positioning himself such that he could watch Tony whenever such was possible.

Thor was convinced that Tony was unaware of the little noises he kept making as they made their way through the tunnels. While the carts were not as fast as Tony's suit likely was (Thor had no idea how fast it could go but he was entirely certain it could go faster than he had thus far seen), they were swift enough and bore some small resemblance to the Midgardian 'amusement rides' that he had heard young Lady Rogue and John speak of briefly. And if Tony's suit was anything to go by, he had a love of going fast.

Thor had, with the aid of Jarvis, investigated after speaking to them of it and not entirely understanding their explanation. Thor had discovered that, properly instructed, the 'Internet' was a font of information on virtually anything he wished to know regarding Earth. He usually had to consult Jarvis, or another resident of the Tower as to what sort of question to ask to get the information he was looking for, but at least he could discover answers to his questions.

In any event, the 'amusement rides' looked like a lot of fun. Thor hoped to, at some point, try one. Yes, he could fly with the aid of Mjolnir, but his movements and speed were under his complete control. Also, he rarely if ever did the sorts of loops and twists that seemed to be standard in such rides. It was far easier to evade an incoming weapon or obstacle by simply swerving to one side or the other.

When they came out into the city proper, Tony's eyes very nearly became as large as serving platters and he started bouncing on his toes a little. Thor was half afraid Tony would dart off to investigate every nook and cranny of the city and they'd have to spend the day chasing after him. Interestingly, Steven, while more sedate, also looked rather excited and intrigued.

By the time they got to the throne room, Loki was snickering quietly. Thor, for his own part, was unable to keep from smiling. Even Soldier seemed to be taking an interest in their surroundings by then, though Thor was unsure if he was looking around to assess for potential danger or for some other reason.

Thor managed to regain a more sober mien before they entered the throne room - only to lose it when Tony made a rather odd, strangled noise that was somewhere between excitement and approval.

Then all thoughts of amusement at Tony's antics disappeared when Tharginn demanded to alter the enchantments upon Mjolnir.

It had taken an act of will to set her down on the dais. At that, to Thor's shame, he could not find the courage to attempt to pick her up before they left to examine the dwarves' spaceships. He did not think he could handle such a blow, especially not in so public a venue.

Not a second time. Especially not when he knew, this time, the enchantment was on her. Last time, he hadn't known. Not being able to pick her up had been upsetting, but the full impact had been absent because he hadn't known why. This time, he would.

At least the next few hours had provided a more than sufficient distraction. Tony had been ... most entertaining to watch. Thor had actually been concerned Tony would faint when they were in position to see the dwarves' spacedock and the ships parked there. Certainly, he'd made a rather high-pitched noise and then started to breathe very fast. Enough so that Steven and, interestingly, Soldier both reacted with a greater level of concern than Thor was feeling. He suspected it had something to do with ... well, something Midgardians were prey to that Asgardians were not. What that might be, he did not know.

At least Loki, who knew more of Midgard than Thor did, seemed more amused than concerned, laughing softly at Tony's reaction.

The speed with which the discussion between Tony and Tharginn exceeded Thor's understanding of spaceships and their construction was disconcerting. Especially given that Midgardian technology and dwarvish magical construction had wildly different terminologies. It was quite apparent that both men were somehow bridging that gap. Soon enough, Loki got pulled into the conversation as well, drawn in by the discussion of magical matters. Eventually, Steven joined the discussion as well.

By the time they returned to the throne room, Tony apparently had ironed out what he termed an 'idiot-proof' spaceship for Midgardian use.

"We're going to need really clear, really simple controls. Even if we have enough astronauts from various countries to crew these things, they're not going to have the same sorts of controls that our shuttles have. We can always get something super-slick built after this mess is over, but for this, we need idiot proof construction and controls." Tony said.

Thor did not disagree with such wisdom.

Things got ... interesting ... when they reached the dais. Because Tony, Steve, and Loki, apparently working in concert, grouped themselves around Mjolnir in such a way as to block any view of her from three sides. Leaving the fourth side for ... well, himself. And thereby giving him what privacy could be had in the throne room to attempt to lift Mjolnir. Thor shot all three of them grateful looks, even if he was baffled as to how they'd arranged to do this without speaking of it in his hearing. Though they could have done at some point during the technical discussions about the spaceships for Earth and he probably wouldn't have noticed.

Even at that, it took Thor a minute to work up the nerve. He was ... displeased with himself about that, to be honest. But there it was.

And all for naught, because Mjolnir fairly leapt into his hand.

Normally, Mjolnir did not communicate with him. There was very rarely a reason for her to do so. Right at this moment, however, she was being ... distinctly talkative. This despite not being able to speak. Thor got the distinct sense that Mjolnir strongly disapproved of his actions and attitudes prior to his exile from Asgard. By the same token, she seemed very pleased with his improvements since then, and he got the definite impression that so long as he did not fall back into his old arrogance and thirst for bloodshed, she would remain with him. She might permit herself to be used briefly by another if Thor was knocked unconscious or trapped under rubble or the like and thus temporarily unable to wield her mid-battle, but she would not allow such a person to become her primary wielder so long as Thor was alive and not being ... unworthy.

Thor could not quite prevent himself from heaving a sigh of relief. As they would be standing about discussing things for some time yet, he set Mjolnir back down. He refocused his attention on the proceedings. As amusing as the last few hours had been, things were about to get interesting once more. A general plan for the proposed spaceships had been worked out, but now began the process of agreeing upon form of payment, amount of payment, and the construction of the contract to build the ships.

(_)(_)(_)

By the end of the day, Tony's brain was pretty much going nuts with ideas for tech he could build based on stuff he'd seen. He'd been surprised when he'd been able to talk tech with the dwarves, but all it'd taken was a bit of mental translation to turn stuff like 'this rune cluster powers that button, which shoots the rayguns' into the wires-and-computer-chips version of the same damn thing in his head. Better yet, the dwarves had seemed fully able to do the reverse whenever he talked about some particular bit of tech.

The idea of having a dwarf hanging out in the Tower was, to be frank, sounding better and better. But now Tony really needed to focus because they were to the contract negotiations stage of things and Thor'd warned them the dwarves were likely to try to schnooker them as a test. Tony had decided that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. If the eager-but-angelic look Tharginn was abruptly sporting was any indication, he was looking forward to this as much as Tony was.

"Now, before other parts of the contract are settled, we must discuss form of payment." Tharginn said. "Deciding how many ships and what you want them to have is beside the point if we cannot agree on how they will be paid for."

"Agreed." Tony said. "I'm thinking goods for goods, since figuring out exchange rates on money would be a nightmare and a half. The value of our money is determined by a bunch of factors that wouldn't mean a thing to you or your people."

Except maybe the value of the gold that backed it in the days of the gold exchange, but even that was iffy, as it had depended on *Earth's* supply and demand of gold. For all he knew, gold was all but worthless to dwarves for any of a number of reasons.

Tharginn agreed readily enough to that with a nod, then went and named a potential trade that made Tony hoot in laughter. "Ten thousand men to work our crops and flocks per ship."

"Are you shitting me right now?" Tony asked, thoroughly amused about not even having to fake his reaction. "Not a chance in hell, you little dirt sniffer. Five books and a paintbrush each."

Tharginn bellowed in laughter, whether at the insult or the proposed exchange, Tony didn't know. When he calmed down, he sat back. "Now, in all honesty ... what have you to offer?"

"I actually have something specific in mind." Tony admitted. "Thor mentioned that your diet's pretty limited thanks to the limitations you have on what you can grow. We Midgardians have come up with a process that allows us to grow food pretty much anywhere ... with no soil. And this method produces quite a bit more food than traditional farming. What I'm thinking is, we get ships, we give you the information, let you borrow some people who know how to do it for, say, a year, and give you some start-up equipment."

At first, Tharginn looked like he was going to dismiss the idea. Probably, Tony figured, because he assumed Tony wanted to trade him food. Once Tony started to explain, though, Tharginn looked extremely interested. Rather understandably. He'd be even more interested when he realized just how much you could grow with hydroponics. Tony figured it wouldn't take the dwarves long to magic up their own version of whole thing, but they needed to know how it was all supposed to work first.

"I believe, Tony Stark, that we may have found an acceptable method of payment." Tharginn said. "Though I would need to know more to be sure."

"Not a problem." Tony said.

Chapter Text

Darcy and Natasha

(_)(_)(_)

With Tony and Loki out of the labs, Darcy's job was a lot easier. She really only had to wrangle Jane. Betty, while every bit the science geek that Jane was, was pretty good at policing herself and dragging Bruce with her for food. There wasn't much in the way of dragging when it came to sleep. Not that Darcy blamed them.

Honestly, if there were to be a 'cutest couple' competition, Bruce and Betty would win. Jane and Thor were a close second (mostly because Thor could be ridiculously adorable without trying). Pepper was too badass to be anything even remotely resembling 'cute', and Tony was entirely too obnoxious, so they were dead last.

Today, though, looked like it was going to be one of those rare days when Darcy had to drag everyone out of the labs. The triad had all trooped to the labs at some ungodly hour, and had been bent over ... well, Darcy was quite content to be ignorant of what they were doing. Because there were an awful lot of maliciously pleased looks and near-maniacal giggling going on. Anyway, they'd been bent over computer monitors and the beginnings of what Darcy sincerely hoped was a non-working model of whatever the hell since she arrived in the labs after breakfast.

Darcy had a sneaking suspicion that whatever they were working on was going to be rammed down HYDRA throats. Sideways. By Hulk. The really scary part was that Jarvis was *helping them*. Had volunteered the use of several of Tony's machines in his lab, if they ended up needing them.

Darcy was building up some strong suspicions regarding Jarvis, but she wasn't going to say anything. Yet. Mostly because she wasn't entirely sure she was right. And if she was right, well, saying something might make Tony and Jarvis twitchy. Because if she was right, that sort of thing was ... not portrayed well in stories, and they'd assume the worst.

Honestly, the way the gang was reacting to the news regarding Hydra, Steve'd be lucky to have any targets at all by the time he got back. Pepper and SAMIT had gone into information acquisition mode, and Darcy was pretty sure Natasha was prepping to go terrify the holy hell out of some assholes in an effort to get information her way.

From what Darcy had overheard, Pepper was digging into everyone attached to SI. Because if there were Hydra moles in various places, SI would be a good place to have one. They'd been dealing in weapons for a long time, and even after Tony put a stop to that, having a mole on the inside to report on Tony's movements would be a good thing for the bad guys.

SAMIT had been muttering about the probability of SHIELD being compromised. Which, really, was a no brainer. SHIELD was a spy organization. The odds of such a thing being lousy with double agents was really, really freaking high.

At any rate, the Science Squad had been working since oh-my-god o'clock and while Darcy had managed to get protein bars in them when she first arrived, and of course coffee by the gallon, actual food had been distinctly lacking.

Right, time for an intervention. Darcy clapped her hands.

"Ok, children. It is past lunchtime and since I know for a fact you guys haven't stopped your mad cackling to eat more than a protein bar in ... " She glanced at the clock. " ... at least four hours, and I am reasonably certain none of you stopped for breakfast before coming down here at oh-dark-hundred, it is time to stop for food before people get cranky."

That made Bruce give her a halfway guilty look that Darcy waved aside. "Not you, Bruce. Her." Darcy pointed at Jane. "You do not want to see her food-deprived. It gets truly ugly. Don't even think about caffeine deprived, or worse both." Darcy shuddered. There had been one no-caffeine and no-food incident very early in her internship with Jane. Never. Again. "Hulk has *nothing* on her when she's on a roll. There's a reason I hound her about eating."

"I'd get mad, except even I know it's true." Jane said with a shrug.

"Fair enough." Bruce said, looking amused. "I am kind of hungry anyway."

The four of them trooped to the common entertainment floor, and Darcy started raiding the kitchen.

"So. What exactly were you lot working on in there, or do I want to know? There was a disconcerting amount of maniacal giggling going on." Darcy asked as she got out plates and packages of sliced meats, breads, and condiments.

"Well, we kind of got to thinking late last night." Betty said. "Historically, Hydra agents had a habit of suiciding via a poison tooth. If we're going to get any kind of information out of them, we need to prevent them from doing that."

"I have some rather esoteric knowledge regarding plants, thanks to my efforts to deal with Hulk." Bruce said. "But my ability to slap together some sort of delivery system aren't good. At least, not as soon as we're going to need it. If I had a few weeks or a month, I'd be fine but we're going to start hunting these people down pretty much the instant Steve and Tony get back. Because Steve is ... really going to need some acceptable targets."

"No kidding." Darcy agreed. "So you, what, remembered that Jane kludged together her equipment, since Tony's not here to wow us with his tech?"

Bruce nodded. "We called her, she answered."

"I needed something to do." Jane admitted. "I was having trouble sleeping."

"Yeah. A lot of that going around, I think." Darcy admitted.

"So we've been talking options, and payload, and delivery systems." Bruce said. "It has to be something fast acting, that can prevent them from doing the tooth thing, if they still actually do that, or from grabbing a more traditional means of killing themselves like a gun or knife or syringe full of who-knows-what."

"And it needs to be something that doesn't need to be calibrated for body weights or metabolisms or anything like that in order to work." Betty put in. "Because any bases we break into are going to have a variety of people in them and we won't really have time to measure dosages."

"We thought Clint might be our best bet for delivery. Arrows are pretty quiet, and hitting people wouldn't raise too many alarms. But if we hit a big base, having more than one person armed with that stuff would be a good thing. So we started talking about darts and dart guns." Jane said.

Darcy blinked at them. "So. Busy morning then."

"Yeah. We haven't agreed on what to use, yet. Bruce is sort of leaning towards making something special, since a lot of the stuff we can think of either doesn't work as fast as we're going to need it to, or has side effects that will make dealing with the captured agents a lot more trouble." Betty said.

"And they wouldn't have a viable antidote for something purpose-made, where they might for something commercial." Darcy said with a nod. Once everything was out, she pushed plates at everyone pointedly, and the three scientists started putting sandwiches together.

"And then I got to thinking ... these people are pros. They might be a bit more resistant to questioning than we'd like." Bruce said. "And having a way to get them to talk might be a good idea. So I've been toying with something that might work."

"Yeah, that might have been the source of the giggling, then." Darcy said. She really didn't want to think about what Bruce might have cooked up for *that*. Talk about scary territory.

"And I'll need an antidote for whatever I cook up. Because we may have to get ugly to get them to talk, but we're not monsters, so once we get their tongues loose ... " Bruce shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway, Jane figured she might as well figure out a dart for that stuff too, so we don't have to get in close to administer it."

After that, talk drifted to other things. Darcy made her own sandwich and sat back and watched them talk.

Anyone who said geeks weren't utterly terrifying was so very, very wrong.

(_)(_)(_)

Darcy would probably be pleased to know her guess about Natasha was right.

This particular mission called for a level of invisibility that Natasha normally didn't need. She normally could walk right into someone's life as ... well, whatever worked ... and go from there. But these people had *made* her. Made the other Widows. The likelihood of them recognizing her if they actually saw her, regardless of her disguise, was far too high.

Natasha chose one of her most form-fitting uniforms. One that came with a hood to hide her very distinctive hair. Despite the form fitting nature of the uniform, there were a lot of places to hide things. Two garrotes (because one could be lost or snap, or be pressed into service as a tripwire), ten knives of varying sizes, four stilettos, a lock pick kit, over a dozen small needles coated with sleeping agents, four thumb drives for any computers she hacked, her Bites (by far the clunkiest part of her outfit. She'd have to see if Tony would make her something more streamlined), a handful of very compact, low-yield explosives suitable for blowing computer harddrives to shrapnel once she'd downloaded all the information on them, and of course the string in the hood, which could be pulled out and used as a weapon. This once, she forewent her guns. They were too loud, even silenced, for use in extreme covert situations.

The hardest part had been convincing Clint to stay behind. He'd wanted to go with, to watch her back. Unfortunately, as good as he was, the odds that he'd be spotted were too high for comfort. Hydra would be watching the areas around their bases. If they didn't, they were idiots. They had thus far not shown much of a bent towards idiocy, except in their choices of 'subjects', so Natasha was taking no chances.

Besides, she had a lot of anger to burn, and she disliked Clint or Phil seeing her when she was hunting in that sort of mood. They were fully aware of who and what she was, but she still didn't like them seeing her in that mode.

It had, ironically, been one of the first things she'd figured out about herself, once they'd brought her in. Who she had been, what she had done, was not a source of pride and never would be. She was grateful she had the skills in the now, but ... no. Those days would never be good memories.

At the moment, she was studying the blueprints for the building that Hydra was using in New York City. Or, well, the one they'd identified. The likelihood of there being at least one other base in the city was very high.

The base was a scientific one from the information Jarvis had dug up. From the look of it, Hydra's research into the Serum was ongoing, despite their continued lack of success in producing someone like Steve. Even she, the best of the Widows, didn't quite match Steve point for point, and it wasn't just because he was a man and therefore capable of more muscle mass than a female.

She healed slower than Steve did. And aged, though they had no way of knowing if Steve didn't age, yet. He'd not been 'alive' long enough for aging to become a noticeable factor. The time in the ice messed with that. But she'd aged over the years. Not normally to be sure, but she did look like she was in her thirties rather than like a teen or twenty-something if she'd stopped aging at some point.

"Jarvis, you have any other information on the building?" Natasha asked.

Darcy wasn't alone in her suspicions about Jarvis. Natasha had 'met' Jarvis before anyone other than Phil had, and had interacted with the AI more than Phil. Jarvis acted entirely too human to be 'just' anything, never mind a computer program. And Natasha knew Tony well enough to know he'd never accept 'sufficient' or 'second best' in anything. If he decided to build a computer AI, he'd go whole hog.

Not that Natasha would say anything. She, of them all, understood having and protecting secrets. She would hold Jarvis' until such time as he spoke up about it.

Though at this rate, it wouldn't be long before Jarvis' secret became a non-secret. He'd been ... really overly helpful with the Hydra situation. It was hard to tell without a facial expression to work with, but Natasha was fairly certain that Jarvis was a bit pissed about Yelena escaping and wanted to get even. The problem with that being that he was making it more and more obvious that he was a lot more than a computer program fulfilling requests by approved operators.

"I have, in fact." Jarvis said. "I have been able to break into their security system without alerting them to my presence. Unfortunately, while their security system has elements I can suborn, their computer system is completely cut off from the internet and thus beyond my ability to usurp. I have, however, been able to observe the last two shifts in the building."

Natasha gave the nearest camera a fangy grin. She could really get used to having a self-aware, sapient computer as an ally. "Let's have it, Jarvis."

"There are ten 'scientists' " And there was enough sarcasm in that word to float the Helicarrier. "in the building at all times. Fifteen during daylight hours. The security is mostly electronic in nature, with only a dozen security guards to cover all shifts. I suspect this is to keep from drawing too much attention to themselves. Ten extra people going in and out are unlikely to be noticed. Thirty or more ... would be."

Natasha nodded. "Agreed."

"Three of the labs have airlocks, and contain a variety of volatile chemicals that can easily be converted into a means of attack. All doors are electronically controlled, but there are three checkpoints, with a guard each, one on each level of the base. One more guard per floor walks patrols. There are a number of infiltration countermeasures, but they are all electronically controlled via the guard stations." Jarvis finished, sounding ... disturbingly smug.

"This is going to be a cakewalk, isn't it?" Natasha asked.

"Quite, Agent Romanov." Jarvis agreed.

Chapter Text

Natasha

(_)(_)(_)

The point of this particular mission was to get in, get information, and get out undetected. Natasha had done such things in the past. They'd always been a great deal of ... well, something close to 'fun', if she were to ever admit to such a thing. They were also extremely challenging (which was part of the fun) because getting around security systems and guards undetected was varying levels of difficult.

With Jarvis assisting, this mission promised to be somewhat less exciting on the electronics front. Which was not to say that Natasha would have no worries that direction. Jarvis didn't have access to or control over everything in the Hydra base.

To make up for the lessened excitement on the electronics front, the base was under a legitimate business building teeming with people. Natasha had no idea how Hydra had arranged it, but their base was in a sub-sub-sub basement that the people working in the building overhead seemed to be entirely unaware existed. At least, only those Jarvis had identified as Hydra went anywhere near the base. To be fair, the original building was older, dating from right around when Steve had been born. So it was entirely possible the current owners truly had no idea what they had under their building.

Natasha waited until two in the morning. Far enough past the evening shift change that the guards in the base would have let their guard down and perhaps even begun to get sleepy, if they were any sort of inept. Too, if this went spectacularly pear-shaped, there were fewer innocent civilians to get caught in the crossfire. At that hour of the night the office building proper was deserted.

Natasha had always included plans for if a mission went pear-shaped. But she learned after Budapest to make plans for if things went ridiculously pear-shaped. There were more reasons than fear and distrust that a great many agents and operatives refused to have anything to do with her and Clint. The regularity with which their missions went pear-shaped in spectacularly unpredictable ways was one of them. The fact the two of them always somehow managed to complete the missions was the other. The ones who couldn't handle the first generally got ulcers over the second.

Natasha didn't bother going through the building. That was useless. There was only the one access to the base there, and that was the front door, as it were. The likelihood of there being security features Jarvis couldn't control, or a guard on patrol, at that point was extremely high.

No, for this, Natasha used the maze of tunnels under the city. Sewer lines, old subway tunnels, maintenance tunnels of all sorts criss crossed underneath the city and made it possible, if you were careful and knew what you were doing, to get practically anywhere without too much trouble and without being seen. Better still, the base was bound to have one or more back doors into that system of tunnels. Jarvis hadn't found one in the blueprints he'd been able to find, but there would be one.

It took her an hour of hunting to find a suspiciously new looking grating blocking a section of tunnel, locked up with chains. There were no cameras in evidence.

Getting to the lock holding the chains was awkward, as the lock was inside the grating. It made picking it a lot more challenging, but she managed it. Not her best time, but swift enough. She was careful to close the grate and drape the chain back the way it had been, putting the padlock in place but not closing it. It would be enough to fool all but a close inspection, and would save her the trouble of having to re-pick the lock if she had to leave in a hurry.

A short, careful trip down the tunnel led her to the sort of door she associated with nuclear fallout shelters. Big, bulky, and heavy. Also, probably very noisy. And locked from the inside.

Damn. Looked like she'd have to go in the front door after all. There was no lock to pick here.

She nearly had a heart attack when the door popped open (silently) a few millimeters. It wasn't until she got inside that she realized what had happened. The door, on the inside, was controlled electronically. On the little keypad that normally only displayed the numbers you input to open the lock, was a brief message.

'Happy To Help. J.'

Natasha gave a pleased nod. Jarvis might not have known to look for it just from the blueprints, but he'd evidently traced it after tracking her and realizing she'd stopped moving for some reason.

The room the escape hatch was in was dusty and musty with disuse, a pile of cardboard boxes mouldering in one corner. She walked over to check them out. They weren't likely to have anything of import in them if they'd been more or less forgotten in here, but it went against the grain to not check.

The next door was a lot simpler to deal with. It, like all the other internal doors, were electronically controlled, and it popped open a few millimeters as she approached. She opened it just enough to be able to hear clearly and listened for anyone approaching. Nothing. A quick, guarded peek around the corner showed her two or three cameras in the corridor beyond. All of which twitched briefly before resuming their regular sweeps.

Natasha slipped out into the hallway and made her way carefully towards the labs and the computers therein. The ones Jarvis couldn't tap into because they were totally cut off from the internet.

She didn't see anyone for the first two corridors, but finally her luck ran out, in the form of one of the wandering security personnel. She quickly ducked back the way she'd come. She'd passed a few doors on the way - supply closets and disused rooms. It was easy enough to slip into one and duck out of sight. The one she'd picked proved to be completely empty, not even any built-in shelves or what have you remaining, and covered in nearly an inch of dust. The urge to kick the guy's ass was there, but if she did she'd have the rest of the security on her in next to no time. And she did not want them alerted to the fact that someone was on to them.

They might suspect, perhaps, with the Avengers having Barnes in their clutches. But that was a might. It depended entirely on whether or not Barnes had ever been exposed to proof that the Red Room was in fact a Hydra operation. And on how fast they thought Barnes would give up that information, if he had it. Other than that, though, there was no proof out in plain sight that Hydra still existed.

Once the guard had returned in the direction he'd come from, Natasha re-emerge, being careful to make sure none of the dust came out with her to leave a tell-tale trail behind her. The stupid guard hadn't even walked down the corridor, just stopped at the corner and looked down the rest of the corridor. Even if this corridor hadn't been used in decades, such inattention was beyond stupid.

Of course, the rest of the trip couldn't be that easy. She walked down the corridor the guard had stuck to and at the next corner came to a much more-used section, the lighting brighter and the floors and walls cleaner than in the disused corridor. Which wasn't saying much, as there still weren't any people. Not until the last door before the next corner - the first of the labs she needed to get information from.

A quick peek inside provided her with the information that the three scientists scheduled to be in here were all in the lab, which was good. Having to deal with one coming in from a bathroom and/or snack break would have been tricky.

As it was, it was too easy to sneak into the room unobserved. Scientists. Let them get buried in their work and a nuclear bomb could go off and they'd never notice. This she knew for fact. There were scientists in SHIELD who'd been on the Helicarrier who hadn't realized there'd been an invasion until the Helicarrier had come under attack. This despite the fact the Helicarrier had been put on a war footing, which had meant a lot more activity than the norm.

She pulled three of the needles with sleeping agents out of their hiding places. With a bit of luck, she'd be able to dose all three ... and none of them would realize they'd been dosed. The sleeping agent would take hold fast, and had the (beneficial) side effect of scrambling or erasing about ten minutes of memory prior to its application. They'd assume they fell asleep over their consoles if she did this right.

That lab goes without a hitch. The scientists are actually already half asleep, only going through whatever they were working on in a very desultory fashion. She was able to knock them out and download the information onto the thumb drives without a problem.

The second lab, located on the second floor was a repeat of the first in virtually all details. Three scientists, half asleep already at this hour, and no problems dosing them and getting the information.

The third lab, however ...

The third lab was on the topmost level of the base, for one. The entire floor was brightly lit and guarded much more closely than the bottom floor had been, and even the second floor lab. The guard's control booth was also in line-of-sight of the lab door, unlike the other two levels. And there were four scientists in this lab, rather than three, increasing the chances one wasn't in the lab, or would spot her coming in.

Well, she'd wanted a way to burn off some of her anger. And if she worked quickly enough, no one would remember being attacked. The challenge will be to do this in such a way she doesn't get all six of them piled on at once. Not that she can't handle those sorts of odds, but Jarvis had warned her the labs had stuff that could be weaponized in them.

If there was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was to never, ever, under any circumstances, back any sort of geek against a wall. They might look all soft and squishy and easily beaten. They even usually were, on a purely physical, personal level. But they more than made up for that by being able to slap shit together that could level entire cities if they got cornered.

The Iron Man suit being a perfect case in point.

So she really needed to not alert the scientists to there being a problem. It would give them time to throw something together that, at best, would make the rest of her night miserable.

She tucked herself around the corner out of sight of the guard control booth, and waited for the second guard to make his next round of the floor. There were no convenient pipes or the like on the ceiling to cling to, and while there were doors, she did not trust them to remain out of use for even the length of time she needed. That said, one of the doors was an airlock like on the lab (it was the disposal room for all the lab waste), and had a wider than average frame around it. Not ideal for perching, but it would get her out of the immediate line of sight, as people rarely thought to look up.

The guard is almost too easy. He goes down near instantly to a throat hold he never saw coming because Natasha dropped down behind him.

The second guard was nowhere *near* as easy. For one, he wasn't making any move to leave his post. Natasha had two minutes, three at most before he realized something had gone wrong with his buddy. At which point it was even odds on whether he left his post or sounded an alarm. The first wasn't a problem. The second would be.

She came around the corner at a run, flinging two knives and two of the sleep-agent needles. She watched, more than slightly incredulous, as he ducked them all. Then she almost sighed in pleasure. There was no way in hell an unenhanced human could dodge four incoming projectiles - not with the spread Natasha had used. That meant this guy was enhanced. Whether it was Serum, a mutation, or something else, she didn't know. She didn't really care either. All she knew was that here, finally, was the fight she needed.

The guy came at her silently. Natasha figured he knew his partner was down, and the labs were probably sound proof, making an audible warning useless. If he hit an alert button, there was no immediate sign of it.

They met in the middle of the hallway.

Even better? This guy was good. Disciplined. Not Widow level but more of a challenge than she usually got. There was a fast flurry of moves and countermoves, strikes and blocks as they each tried to get the upper hand. It took nearly three minutes for her to find an opening and take advantage of it, resulting in her choking him out with her thighs.

She hit him with the sleeping agent, but the odds of him waking up before he should were strong. Not to mention he had bruises and such on him that could not be explained by falling asleep at his station. Unless, of course, he had enhanced healing to go with the enhanced reflexes.

Still, she hauled him back to the guard station and dumped him in the chair, just in case he stayed asleep long enough and did heal fast. She might get lucky.

One thing had gone her way at least. He hadn't hit any sort of alarm. Or if he had, Jarvis had diverted it. All four scientists were in the room. Unfortunately, they were wide awake and excited in a way she associated with scientists who'd just had a breakthrough in whatever they were working on.

Fortunately for her, none of *them* had enhanced reflexes, and none of the four were able to dodge the needles she threw at them. Once all four were down, she got to work, keeping an eye on the door just in case the security guard woke. Once she was done with the computer, she put all four scientists in chairs, then dug around until she found the booze that she knew had to be hiding somewhere in the lab - she'd never met a scientist who didn't keep a bottle of some sort of alcohol on hand for celebrations. A few glasses, a bit of spilled booze, and dumping most of the rest down the sink in the corner before leaving the bottle behind, and with luck they'd think they'd partied in response to the breakthrough and fallen asleep over drinks.

That done, she got the hell out of Dodge. Fortunately, the guard was still asleep. The others would all sleep for hours. There's a chance they'll realize they've been made, thanks to that guard, but really, Natasha was going to call this one a win.

Chapter Text

Aunt May

(_)(_)(_)

The last few months had been incredibly difficult times in the Parker household.

May and Ben had never once regretted taking Peter in. May especially. She and Ben had never been able to have children and she'd felt the lack keenly. Peter had filled that void. Which wasn't to say that Ben hadn't adored Peter. He had. It had just been slightly different for Ben than it had been for her.

Peter had been a sweet baby and an easygoing, happy child. They'd had relatively few problems with him. Not that Peter was a saint or any such thing, but he'd been a good boy. Bright, top of his class, not much given to trouble, save being a target for bullies thanks to his intelligence and academic zeal. And oh, he had so much potential it almost hurt to see. She and Ben had scrimped and saved what they could towards college for Peter, determined that he'd get a chance to reach that potential. It hadn't been much, not on their pensions, but every little bit helped.

She supposed they'd been due for a bout of teenaged rebellion and angst. She sincerely doubted that any parent got through their child's entire childhood without some sort of trouble somewhere, and they'd been lucky up to this point. It may have been longer ago than she was willing to admit, but she could still remember chafing under her parents' authority at his age herself.

The problem lay in the fact that it had started so suddenly. There'd been absolutely no sign of trouble on the horizon, and then suddenly Peter was skipping school, acting oddly and lying to them. And doing a poor job of hiding the school skipping - not to mention being a rather poor liar. It had been extremely worrying and she and Ben had perhaps not handled it particularly well. May had actually feared Peter had gotten into drugs for a week or so before she realized that wasn't the problem.

May had begun to suspect something other than general teenage rebellion fairly quickly. His behavior wasn't consistent with drug or alcohol abuse. There were differences in Peter that were kind of hard to miss if you knew him well. Differences that didn't jibe with normal teenage defiance and self-expression any more than they did alcohol and drug abuse. Things like the way he moved changing fairly radically. Like the fact he'd suddenly gained a lot of muscle that he was desperately trying to hide (and failing miserably) under too-big shirts. Like the fact she'd caught him once reading without his glasses, and the book hadn't been all but glued to his nose.

Unfortunately, she hadn't divined the cause of the changes as easily as she'd seen them, and Ben hadn't had any more luck than she had. Then things had just gotten worse, and Ben was killed by a robber. So the robber could get away from the cops on his tail by using Ben's car.

The loss had been devastating. May and Ben had been married almost forty years, and Ben had been the only father Peter had truly known. Oh, Peter had a few vague memories of his real father, but they were faded and distant, by his own admission. After that, May hadn't been in much of a position to wonder at the changes or figure out a cause. She still wasn't, really, but she was more functional than she'd been in the first weeks after Ben's death.

Just to make matters worse, money had become an issue. Without Ben's pension, money had become extremely tight. May point blank refused to use the small savings they'd earmarked for Peter. Not only would that make getting a degree that much more difficult for Peter, but the savings would only delay the inevitable by a few months. It was only a matter of time before she and Peter would have to move elsewhere no matter what they tried. The house was simply beyond May's means to afford on her own.

That fact was a bitter blow all on its own. She and Ben had bought this house together shortly after they'd married. They'd lived their whole lives here. Raised Peter here. There were so many memories in this house, the vast majority of them good ones.

Peter would do what he could to help if he found out of course, but May refused to put that burden on him. He was a boy, yet. Not even of age. He had no call to be trying to get a job and support the pair of them. Especially right now, when Peter was struggling with ... well, whatever was going on with him, as well as Ben's death.

Though the last day or two, he'd seemed different yet again. A bit easier in himself, perhaps? But also nervous. Like he was working himself up to something. He'd also been refusing to look her in the eye. May dearly hoped he was working up the nerve to tell her what was wrong. She might not be able to actively help depending on what the problem was, but in her experience, even a sympathetic listening ear did a body good when it came to dealing with your problems.

They'd just finished dinner when Peter took a deep breath and said. "Aunt May? Can I ... well, I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course, Peter. You can tell me anything, you know that." May said, patting the back of his hand.

Peter swallowed nervously, and when he looked her in the eye, May was horrified. There was actual fear in Peter's eyes. Fear *of* her. Her reaction to whatever he had to tell her. Of all the ... May fought down a huff. Depending on what he had to tell her, she might not be happy with him, but he would never have reason to *fear* her and he ought to know that!

Then again, the mind didn't always tend to be reasonable. It liked to blow things all out of proportion if you gave it the chance. And Peter had been chewing on this whatever-it-was for about two months now. More than enough time for him to start fretting about ridiculous things.

"I ... umm ... you remember that trip we took to Oscorp a couple months ago at school? And I got real sick the next day? Enough so you let me skip school?"

"Yes, I remember that. What about it?" May asked. At the same time she mentally prayed that Peter hadn't somehow been exposed to something that would eventually kill him. Losing him so soon after Ben would devastate her. And she'd be forced to scold him for hiding it from her for so long.

"Well, they were doing experiments on spiders. One of them managed to escape its cage, and ended up biting me. After I got done being so sick ... well ... " Peter grimaced, then did something that made May's eyes go wide.

He leaped straight up and stuck to the ceiling. May gasped, one hand going to her chest, eyes wide in worry. This was ... well, not quite what she'd feared, but nearly as bad. What if this eventually killed him?

"Young man, you and I are going to have a long talk about hiding serious physical changes from me, regardless of the situation at the time otherwise." May scolded, her tone sharper than she truly meant it to be, but this was scaring her half to death. "In the meantime ... We need to get you looked at, young man, to make sure this isn't hurting you somehow that you can't see."

Peter dropped back down into his seat. "That's ... umm ... the other thing. I kind of ... ran into the Avengers?"

"Peter Parker! Do not tell me you were ... " But May saw the truth of it in his eyes. He HAD been out that day, when the aliens had invaded. "I ought to put you over my knee, young man. Putting yourself at risk like that when you don't even know what that bite will do to you!"

Amusingly enough, it was that scolding that finally seemed to reassure Peter that she wasn't going to ... well, do whatever it was he feared she'd do.

"Actually, I didn't run into them until after. I've been helping out as much as I can, after school." Peter told her.

That much, she'd known. She'd gone downtown herself quite a bit, usually to one of the food distribution areas. She might be older and not able for the sort of physically demanding work that the rescue and construction crews were doing, but she knew how to cook. Her being behind a pot allowed a younger person to help with the tasks she couldn't do.

"Anyway, it was a couple of teens that are working with them. They ... noticed me doing things a kid my size really shouldn't be able to."

At May's fulminating glare, Peter flinched a bit. "I wasn't showing off, honest, Aunt May. It's just kind of hard to judge what I could lift before this happened versus what I can lift now. I mess it up sometimes."

May relaxed. "All right, Peter. I believe you, and if you've gotten so strong, I can see where you might have troubles." She agreed.

"They invited me to the Tower, if I wanted. And, well ... " Peter flailed a hand. "I got bit and got powers. Of course I wanted. I don't know *anything* about this and it's been scaring me half to death." Peter flushed. "I've been having nightmares about turning into a spider or, well, all sorts of awful stuff."

May could well imagine. She'd probably be having a few of those herself in the coming weeks.

" ... and it's not like I can trust a regular doctor or hospital with this, you know?" Peter continued. "Some of them are really crappy to mutants. Or might use me as a test subject for ... well, things I'd want no part of, you know?"

May understood and agreed with that wholeheartedly. She might not like troublemaker mutants one bit, but there was no call for medical professionals of all people to treat mutants badly. Yet far too many (one being too many to May's mind) did. "So you went and talked to them?"

"Yeah." Then Peter got distinctly starry-eyed, much to May's amusement. "Doctor Banner was there, Aunt May! I got to talk to him for a while."

Well, that certainly explained the starry eyed look. "And Mr. Stark?" She asked, knowing the man was second on Peter's list of people he wanted to meet.

Peter pouted slightly. "Wasn't there. He and some of the Avengers were." Peter flung a hand skyward. "Well, not on the planet. Which, can I just say that blows my mind?"

May actually laughed in agreement. Space, other worlds. If she was younger, she'd be strongly tempted to take a peek herself, if it were possible to wrangle such a thing.

"Anyway, Doctor Banner took some samples, so they'd be able to find out if all this ... " Peter waved at himself. "Is stable. And they're willing to help me learn what all I can do, and better control of the strength, at least."

"That is good news. Though the next time you go, young man, I'll be going with you. It's not that I don't trust them, but you're my responsibility until you come of age and I have every intention of understanding as much as I can of what's happened." Then May leveled a flat glare at Peter. "And we will be having a long discussion, young man, about you keeping secrets."

"On top of the one about hiding physical changes?" Peter asked cheekily with a grin.

May swatted at him, which he dodged easily. "At least now I know. I knew something was troubling you." She told him. "You had Ben and I both worried."

Peter's expression twisted, and May had to take a deep breath to keep from tearing up herself. "Now, do you know when you need to go back?" She asked.

"They didn't specify, but I thought I'd check in tomorrow." Peter said. "Worst comes to worst, the samples haven't been completely investigated yet, and I can work on figuring out my abilities." Then he blinked. "Oh, that reminds me. Fair warning. The Black Widow? Is *utterly terrifying*." Peter shivered hard.

May had to fight not to laugh. "Is she so?" She asked.

Peter made a face at her. "You mock me now, but you'll see." He proclaimed with another shiver. "I'm pretty sure the aliens cut and run because she scared them to death, to be honest."

May did laugh at that, thoroughly amused by Peter's rather over-the-top antics. Even if she did have a sneaking suspicion he was diverting her attention away from something he wasn't ready to talk about yet. Well, she could wait him out. It surely wasn't as bad (in the sense of Peter potentially dying or, as he'd pointed out, continuing to mutate into a spider) as the news he'd broken to her today. She was entirely too happy he'd finally opened up to her to push.

"So, what was Doctor Banner like?" She asked.

Peter grinned hugely. "He was awesome." He proclaimed. "His lab was *better*."

And there went the starry-eyed look. May strangled the amused noise she wanted to make at Peter's enthusiasm.

"I mean, he had equipment I didn't even know what it was in there." Peter admitted. "Which sort of makes sense 'cause he's, you know, not in the same sort of sciences as me, exactly. Not to mention that it being Stark Tower, it's probably stuff only someone like Mr. Stark could afford." Peter got a dreamy look on his face. "Maybe I can get him to let me run a small experiment or something when we go over there."

Chapter Text

Steve (Nidavellir Part 1)

(_)(_)(_)

Steve had been thoroughly amused by Tony in Svartalfheim. He was pretty sure Tony wouldn't appreciate the comparison, but he really was like Howard in some ways. Especially when he got all excited about tech.

The trip had also been eye-opening as all heck. It was one thing to know that Tony was an inventor and a businessman. It was another entirely to see him in what was basically his element. Now more than ever, Steve was convinced that a big chunk of the way Tony presented himself to the public was ... well, basically the difference between Captain America and Steve Rogers.

Same basic person, really, but one of them was really, really, really exaggerated.

At any rate, Tony had managed to wrap up a tentative deal with Tharginn. Tharginn would be visiting Earth in about two week's time to see hydroponics in action, as that was the main sticking point of the contract for the ships. If he liked what he saw, they'd have a deal and construction would start immediately. If not, they'd have to figure out another means of payment, but Steve didn't think that would be too difficult with Tharginn on Earth, where they could show him what they had available.

That done, they'd returned briefly to Asgard to get some horses. Svartalfheim was the only realm that tolerated strangers teleporting about. Mostly, Steve figured, because their cities were miles underground and heavily protected. The other Realms had a tendency to shoot strangers first and ask questions later if they popped up out of nowhere, according to Loki (who was in a position to know).

Steve was just grateful that Asgardian horses were smarter than their Earth counterparts. Both he and Tony were city boys. Steve had actually never even seen a horse in person until the war, when they'd run across one every now and again in the country. He had no idea if Tony had ever been near one, but the wide-eyed look and slightly nervous handling said 'no'.

Asta was basically steering herself, as Steve had no real idea how to guide a horse and didn't want to hurt her by accident. From the looks of things, Birger (and Tony) were doing the same. That said ... Bucky ... well, Soldier, really. Steve knew it wasn't Bucky, not really, not yet. He just had to keep reminding himself to use 'Soldier' rather than Bucky. Anyway, Soldier was handling his horse like he'd been *born* on a horse. Given that Bucky had been every bit the city boy that Steve had been, it was more than a little jarring to see.

Asta, the horse Thor chose for Steve, was a gorgeous palomino mare with a burnished almost-gold coat and very close to pure white mane and tail. Birger, Tony's horse, was also a mare, but a chestnut with a coat, mane and tail as close to the red of Tony's suit as Steve figured a horse could get. Steve was absolutely not betting on Thor deliberately choosing Birger based on that alone. Very possibly abetted by Loki, if the amused look Loki had been sporting was anything to go by. Eira was a chestnut mare as well, but more brown and less red than Birger, and she had a wide white stripe down her face and two white socks on her back legs, unlike the other two, who didn't have any white markings.

Nidavellir was ... kind of stunning. Definitely a lot like the African savannah, from what Steve had seen of it on television. Lots of wide open space, really tall grass (it reached Asta's shoulder most places) the color of wheat, and a handful of trees and bushes scattered about.

The area immediately around the Bifrost landing zone was pretty much devoid of life. Which only made sense. Steve figured the animals had run for the horizon the moment the Bifrost started heading for the ground here.

They'd been riding for an hour when the first of the wildlife finally came into view as they topped a small hill. Steve just sort of stared for a moment before double checking that his shield was still on his back. From the numbers he was seeing, he was guessing the animals were the Nidavellir equivalent to wildebeest.

Except these? Were about the size of a rhinoceros. And about as heavily armored. They weren't as fat as rhinos tended to be, and didn't have a horn on the nose. They had two horns, one just above each eye, that stuck more or less straight out and could easily be used to skewer a predator if they charged with their heads down. Interestingly, instead of being gray, which some of the bigger prey species on Earth tended towards (elephants, hippos, and rhinos), these guys were the golden tan of a lion with a relatively thin coat over their armor, allowing them to sort of blend in with the grass.

Worse, there were some truly huge carnivores mostly hidden in the grass at an angle to the four of them, in a depression. Steve could just make out ears, eyes, and noses. Given how tall the grass was, and how big the prey was, the carnivores had to be pretty big. Lions didn't mess with rhinos as a general rule from what Steve had learned. So he was guessing that whatever carnivore that was, was bigger than a lion, even if he couldn't see enough to tell.

"Do we go around?" Steve asked Thor, then glanced at Soldier to see how he was doing. He was definitely on alert, staring at the animals and looking like he'd kick Eira into a run if anything even looked like it might happen. That said, he was surprisingly calm.

"In part." Thor said. "The herd is far too large to go around completely. But we shall go in that direction." He pointed towards the carnivores. "I perceive some local predators on the hunt. It will be safer for us closer to them, than further away and potentially in the path of the stampede they will cause."

"Yeah, with the size of those? Totally agreed." Tony said.

They worked their way around the herd and well behind the predators that were, now they weren't on a rise, completely invisible. The herd pretty much ignored them. Hardly a surprise. Steve didn't think the five of them looked like any kind of threat to them, when they were used to being hunted by huge predators and (very probably) the Nidavellir, who were Hulk-sized.

They'd gotten maybe about fifty yards beyond the depression where the predators had been hiding when they exploded out of cover heading away from their group, sending the herd scattering in all directions. Because they were so close to the depression, the stampede didn't really bother their group.

Steve did a triple take at the carnivores as they became visible above the grass now they weren't hunkered down. Because they were saber-toothed cats. Or looked enough like them to fool Steve, at any rate. Like the rhino-alikes, they were a golden tan, but dappled with darker and lighter colors in an irregular pattern to help them blend into the grass better. They were also about twice the size of a lion, as far as Steve could tell. They also startled the hell out of Soldier, who made (and aborted) a motion like he was bringing a gun he didn't have to bear on the cats.

What was really interesting was that after the initial, startled bolt (and a lot of startled bellowing), some of the rhino-alikes whipped around and faced the cats, heads down and standing shoulder to shoulder, forming a blockade and allowing the bulk of the herd to get clear while the cats had to deal with them. Their group didn't stick around long enough to see how that played out, but Steve didn't envy the cats one bit. That did not look like relatively easy hunting.

The scary part was that the animals Steve spotted got bigger from there. The next critter they saw was just plain ugly. They were the size of an elephant, but looked more like a bison. They had a huge shoulder hump, then a long slope down to the hind end, which was about six feet off the ground compared to about twelve for the shoulder proper and fourteen for the hump, and a big, antlered head. The antlers were like a moose's, big, wide hunks of bone or whatever that spread quite a bit wider than the animal itself. Unlike the furry sabre-toothed cats and rhino-alikes, these things had putrid green-colored scaled armor like an alligator and no fur that Steve could see.

"Bilgesnipe." Thor rumbled. "We must take care. They stampede easily."

"And at that size, that would be really bad for anything in their path." Tony said, eyeballing the creatures with concern.

They'd had the horses at what Steve assumed was a normal walking pace for them, but now they slowed down to nearly a crawl in an effort to not trigger a stampede. Half the herd watched them, turning to do so, and snorted and stamped their feet, eyes visibly rolling in their sockets. Somehow, they managed to get to the far side of the herd without triggering a stampede, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

There were smaller animals, too. If by smaller you meant roughly the size of a bear. Actually, Steve was pretty sure they *were* bears, as he couldn't see any obvious differences between them and Earth bears at a glance. They ran across two more groups of predators, something the size of a lion but with the sleek, lean look Steve associated with cheetahs and greyhounds. He didn't get much of a look at them because they'd been mid-hunt on something the size of a water buffalo but also with the lean, sleek lines of something really fast, rather than being heavy and armored.

And then there were the birds. As befit a world with prey animals as big as Steve had seen, they had some *huge* birds with the bald head Steve associated with carrion eaters. Steve was pretty sure they could carry any of the four people in their group off without a problem if they wanted to. Fifteen to twenty foot wingspans, easily, and bodies to match. The others were harder to see, as they zoomed by overhead heading off to wherever, rather than gliding slowly around looking for leftovers. Still, all on the big side.

What weirded Steve out, though, was the fact that he didn't see any bugs. Nothing analogous to a mosquito, bee, ant ... nothing. He didn't quite know what to think of that. Was it late in the year, close to winter, and the bugs had all either died off or gone into hibernation or something? Or did this world have a different way of dealing with the stuff bugs dealt with? He had no idea.

Finally, sometime around dinnertime, they topped another low hill and the lone city on the planet came into view.

Given their trip here and what they'd been told of the lives the Nidavellir preferred to lead, Steve had been half-expecting a tent city, but he'd been wrong.

The city was surrounded by a very high (easily fifty foot) stone wall, with closely spaced out-and-down (at about a forty-five degree angle) facing spikes along the very top edge, probably to discourage climbing predators. When they got to the gate, Steve noticed the wall was a good twenty feet thick. Which really only made sense when you had animals the size of the ones he'd seen wandering around.

Of course, the animals would avoid the city under normal circumstances. But stampeding animals didn't tend to pay attention to what was in their path in their panic to get away from what was behind them. And sick or injured animals, especially predators, might be tempted to try the city as an apparently easier source of food.

The Nidavellir, rather like the dwarves, seemed to have a thing for bright colors. The walls and roofs of the buildings were all bright (frequently clashing) colors. Steve suspected paint, because the buildings looked to be made of stone blocks like the wall. Stone didn't come in most of the colors he was seeing on Earth. If they came in those colors here, he was really going to wonder about the place.

The Nidavellir themselves ... well. Very, very like Hulk, really. Except not green. Or at least not *that* green, anyway, as Steve spotted folks with a green tint to their skin. Mid to light browns, tans, and dull greens seemed to be the predominant skin colors, and browns and blondes the predominant hair color. The green skin tones aside, they just looked like oversized humans to Steve. If they ever got Hulk to a point where he could reliably interact with people outside of their small group peacefully, he'd *love* it here. Everything was him-sized. It sort of made Steve a little nostalgic, because he kind of felt like he was back in his old body a little.

Interestingly, none of the buildings were multi-storied. Steve wasn't sure why that was. It could be as simple as the Nidavellir simply not needing multi-story buildings when they had the room to spread out. Or maybe they didn't like heights or something.

The palace didn't look like a palace to Steve's eyes. It just looked like every building around it. Maybe a tiny bit bigger, but that was it. Which he guessed made sense. If you can't tell the palace at a glance, finding the ruler and their family becomes a lot harder, if you're an invader.

The other thing Steve noticed was that the Nidavellir didn't seem to go in much for armor. Again, made sense. It'd be of little use against the animals of the realm, and any invaders were very probably going to be smaller and weaker, so armor wasn't a priority.

They dismounted outside the palace, and a native appeared to take their horses who-knew-where without a word. The inside of the palace proved to be as colorful as the outside. They walked down a surprisingly short corridor to the only door being guarded, and were let in by the guard.

The throne room was absolutely tiny compared to Asgard and even Svartalfheim's throne rooms. It was all of about fifty feet by fifty feet. Steve figured that any big announcements or the like had to be done outdoors, because you'd get maybe a dozen Nidavellir in here before it got crowded. Queen Bestla was sitting in a sturdy chair at the far end of the room.

Queen Bestla turned out to have a skin color that rode the line between light brown and tan. Whatever hair color she'd once had, it was now a sort of washed-out grey. Older she might be, but her eyes were still sharp and clear and Steve devoutly hoped she wasn't Odin's contemporary in *every* category. They could ill afford a realm with a poor leader at the helm. She was dressed in a flowing, sapphire blue gown. Steve didn't see anything like a crown, nor did he see anything that might be the realm's 'scepter' or their defensive weapon.

Bestla got to her feet as they approached. "Prince Loki. It is good to see you again. Rumor of your death reached us a few months past. The Asgardian ambassador did say you lived when he arrived a week or so ago, but I do not trust to gossip."

Loki came forward and bowed respectfully. "I must admit the rumors of my demise came closer to being true than I would like." He admitted. "May I make known to you Crown Prince Thor of Asgard."

Bestla looked Thor up and down. Then she did something that made Steve choke on an unexpected laugh. She shook a finger at him. "I've heard tales of your intemperate actions, Prince Thor, and from more sources than your brother. You will behave yourself in my Realm."

Thor actually blushed. "I shall, Queen Bestla. If it eases you, I have recently begun to understand how poorly I have been behaving, and begun to try to correct it."

Chapter Text

Steve (Nidavellir Part 2)

(_)(_)(_)

"And who are these others?" Bestla wanted to know.

Steve hurriedly tried to wipe the grin off his face. He hadn't *meant* to laugh, but good heavens. Bestla had sounded so much like a disapproving mom right then Steve had kind of wanted to check over his shoulder for his or Bucky's mom out of reflex.

Loki looked pretty amused too, as he turned to introduce the rest of them. "This is Soldier, of Midgard. He was recently ... very poorly done by, and suffers from amnesia that is slowly improving. Enough so that he insisted on coming with us."

Given that Thor hadn't quite gone into that much detail, Steve sort of wondered why Loki had, but it could be as simple as the difference in audience.

"These are Steven Rogers and Anthony Stark, both also of Midgard, and two of its defenders. The leaders, in point of fact, of one of its premier team of defenders, and the ones coordinating the defense of Midgard."

"Oh, good. I was hoping someone who knew Midgard would be involved in coordinating." Bestla said. "We know our own people and our own capabilities, but virtually nothing is known of Midgard, and what little is known is, at best, several hundred years out of date. That would be mildly troublesome even among the rest of the Realms, where lifespans number in the thousands of years. For Midgard, where lives are - or were, at one time - so much shorter ... " Bestla waved a hand expressively, then sat forward. "So. We shall discuss your Realm, gentlemen, and then we shall see where my people can be of the most help."

Right about now, Steve was really glad they'd visited Svartalfheim first. It had given both him and Tony a frame of reference for comparing Earth's defensive capabilities compared to those of the other Realms.

"We don't have any protection to prevent anyone from getting on the planet." Steve admitted. "We've only been out in space for about ... fifty years?" He glanced at Tony, who nodded. "And we've not gone personally further than our moon, but we've sent constructs all over our solar system and even out of it to explore and signal back what they found."

Bestla nodded.

"We do, though, have a lot of stuff to protect ourselves once someone's in our atmosphere. We've got personal weapons that equal or better the damage all but the heavy-duty magical dwarvish personal weapons." Steve said. "And a very, very large pool of trained soldiers to use them. Our population is ... a couple orders of magnitude larger than any of the other Realms, at seven billion people."

And that number still blew Steve's mind.

"Seven ... billion?" Bestla echoed, looking stunned.

"Yes Ma'am." Steve said.

"And how many of that number are trained soldiers?" Bestla wanted to know.

"No exact idea, but somewhere in the neighborhood of four to five hundred million." Steve told her, having got that statistic from Tony before they'd started on this trip, just in case. "With a whole heck of a lot of other folks who aren't trained as soldiers, but are fully capable of protecting themselves at the very least, and a lot of those will want to step up, given what we're going to be facing."

"Excellent." Bestla said. "I commend them. Now, have you any thoughts as to the disposition of the forces that will be joining this battle?"

"Some, Ma'am." Steve said. "We're figuring on putting the Jotuns along our coastlines - plenty of access to water to fight with and keep themselves cool - and in cold and snowy areas like mountaintops and our North and South poles. The Dwarves will be in charge of the space side of the fight, as they have the largest fleet and the most experience with such battles, though they'll have some humans aboard their ships to guide them around the system, since we know it better than they do."

Bestla nodded. "And the rest of us?"

"Hadn't quite got that far, Ma'am." Steve admitted. "From what Thor and Loki have told us, pretty much everyone gets along, except the Jotuns and the Asgardians, and that's easily enough dealt with. Though I think you and your people would be more comfortable in our less-populated areas. Fewer small people underfoot and less stuff to accidentally break."

Bestla actually chuckled at that. "My people will appreciate that." She agreed. "Would we be permitted to bring animals trained for transport and fighting?"

Steve thought about that one a minute. "I don't think there'll be much of a problem with it, depending on what it is you're talking about. Though if it's just transport of stuff you're worried about, we can work something out for that."

"More like transport of ourselves, so we can move swiftly from place to place as needed." Bestla said. "Our version of the Asgardian war horse."

"Ah." Steve said. "Then yeah, that shouldn't be a problem, unless they can't eat Earth grasses or whatever. Bringing enough food to feed them for however long this fight'll last might be a problem in that case."

"Agreed." Bestla said. "Now, what is your world like?"

That question made Steve cock his head to the side a bit as he tried to figure out what exactly she was after. Then he said. "Loki said Midgard is a lot like Vanaheim, for whatever that's worth. Lots of different climates, topography, animals, and such. If your people would be more comfortable on flat ground, we've got a couple sizable chunks of ground like that that will need protecting."

"That would perhaps be best. My people are unused to great heights." Bestla said.

Steve nodded. "That will actually help us a lot ... one of the most heavily populated areas we need to protect is fairly flat ground, and there's a lot of it to protect."

That being most of Asia. The Jotuns could cover the Himalayas and the handful of smaller mountain ranges. The rest of it would be pretty ideal for the Nidavellir, and certainly more vulnerable in terms of the likelihood it'd be attacked than the African savannah. Steve hated thinking that way, but there was no avoiding it. Even if Thanos' goal wasn't the most deaths possible in the least amount of time, the savannah wouldn't be all that valuable as real estate to conquer. While it was close to Wakanda and might *look* like a good spot to launch an attack on that nation from, according to Tony, that had been tried in the past, with no success. Thanos might be good, but Steve'd seen the Chitauri in action, and they left a lot to be desired as troops.

"Hey Tony, gimme those maps, would you?" Steve asked.

Tony produced the paper maps from ... somewhere. Steve had asked him to get some of each continent, so they could show the various leaders what was where. Holographic maps would have been better, but Tony hadn't (yet) developed a mobile holograph setup like he used to build stuff with. Steve fully expected for him to figure that out before the year was up. And Steve was only giving him that long because there was so much else they'd have to do that it was bound to slow even Tony down. Otherwise, Steve would have bet on it being a month before Tony came up with something.

Steve sorted through the maps until he got to the one for Asia. "Right, this is the area I'm thinking about. There's a really tall mountain range here." He traced the line of the Himalayas. "And a couple shorter mountain ranges here, here, and there." He pointed out the various areas. "But that leaves a lot of relatively flat land. More importantly, this area, and this area." He pointed to China and India. "Have roughly half our planet's population." Well, a bit more than half, but still. Point made.

"Which will make those areas a prime target for that soulless monster." Bestla said with a nod. "And what of the defenders in the area?"

"Both areas have individual militaries. And this area." He pointed to what had, in his day, been the Soviet Union, but was now chopped up into smaller countries he hadn't had a chance to memorize the names of yet. "Has several more. Our planet isn't yet unified under one government." He admitted. "But I can guarantee they'll all at least protect their own when the Chitauri come pouring down on them."

Bestla blinked at him in surprise. "You have come so far, and are not yet united?" She asked.

Steve nodded. "To be honest, Ma'am, I think it's the fact we're no united that has allowed us to get so far so fast. We sort of compete against each other. Gotta prove we're better than the other guys." Steve said. He both did and did not approve of that attitude. He approved because good, healthy competition never hurt anyone. He disapproved (very strongly) because folks had a bad tendency to take it way too far.

"Hmm. That would provide impetus." Bestla agreed.

"Aside from the regular soldiers and other folks with training but who aren't soldiers, Midgard has some folks with ... unusual abilities. Not too many just yet, but those we've got and know about are being mobilized."

"People with unusual abilities, you say?" Bestla said.

Steve tried not to glower at her. Because she had a tone, and a look on her face, very similar to what he'd caught on Frigga when the subject of mutants came up. Like they both knew something, but weren't going to tell. He didn't get the sense they were being malicious, which was the only reason he hadn't said anything to Frigga (whom he knew better, and thus felt marginally more comfortable with the idea of confronting her). Still, it was frustrating and annoying, knowing information of some sort was being withheld.

"Yes. What they can do varies widely, but they're scattered all over. We're hoping to assign at least one team, preferably more, of these people per area. Your area is one of the ones that'd have two teams working it. One led by a fellow named Shiro Yoshida, the other led by a fellow named Mikhail Rasputin. At minimum, whoever is going to lead your people in the fight needs to come to Earth at some point to meet them. We'd prefer for as many of your fighters and ours as possible to get a chance to learn to work together. Whether those practices take place here or on Earth is something we'll have to figure out."

Bestla smiled at him. "I have no issue with our people learning to work with yours. Though the first practice at least ought to take place here, where my people can more safely display their full capabilities. On Earth, we would have to take care not to damage things during the practices."

Steve nodded. "Good point. Damage won't matter much when the fight starts, but it's best to keep it minimal until then. And your people constantly having to restrain their strength wouldn't give our people a good idea of what you can do."

Steve shot Tony a look, head cocked. Tony nodded.

They'd discussed (with Bruce) the possibility of Hulk eventually working with the Nidavellir, since they were apparently of a size and strength level with him. Bruce had eventually said that if the Nidavellir were friendly, the two of them could bring up the possibility, and see if they were willing.

"There's one other thing. One of the people on our team." Steve motioned to himself and Tony. "Turns into a guy about the size and strength of your people. There've been a *lot* of problems - the way it happened wasn't natural, people reacted very badly to the appearance of the big guy, and it really didn't help that the big version of the man didn't, for whatever reason, get all the little guy's knowledge. Things have calmed down now, and we've started working with him, but that whole 'our stuff is not built to withstand this level of strength' thing is still there, so no one has any idea what the big guy can really do."

Bestla cocked her head to the side. "You are hoping we might be amenable to working with him to see what his full potential is."

Steve nodded. "It won't be for a while." He admitted. "He has a tendency to get violent if he feels at all threatened, whether or not there's an actual threat present, thanks to people reacting badly to him at first. I don't think he'd react well, coming here just now. But in a few months, maybe, he'll be far enough along to understand and not get upset."

"What is the name of this man?" Bestla wanted to know.

"The little guy is Bruce Banner. The big guy calls himself Hulk." Steve told her. "He's right about your height and a really bright green. And really, really muscled."

"Hmmm. Such is the usual case for our soldiers and those that protect the various tribes as they wander the Realm." Bestla said. "When he is ready, I will arrange for him to meet and work with some of our men from that group, since they'd be of at least roughly comparable strength and abilities."

Chapter Text

Soldier and Steve (Nidavellir Part 3)

(_)(_)(_)

There was something very oddly familiar about following Steve about and planning to fight. Something very, very familiar.

Familiar enough that Soldier was pretty side-tracked trying to chase down the familiarity for the most part, and paying very little attention to the people they were meeting, except to assess them as potential threats. The dwarves? No problem. Sure, they had fancy guns and other weapons but Soldier figured he could take them.

These people? Not so much. They were of a size with the berserker, and Soldier figured that at least some of them had similar capabilities, which made them dangerous as hell. That said, they weren't even trying to be threatening.

Soldier didn't have a clue who this Thanos guy was, but he pretty clearly scared everyone silly. Given what little the briefing he'd gotten from his previous handlers had said about the invasion, the guy at least had a big and very weird army on tap.

Just the sort of fight Steve liked to throw himself into.

Thoughts like that had been happening more and more over the last couple days. Soldier wasn't real sure why. Maybe it was the familiarity that was doing it. Whatever it was, he was grateful. He still wasn't getting much of anything to do with who he was, but more and more stuff having to do with Steve was getting shook loose, which could only help his mission to keep the guy alive.

Though the information that was getting shook loose kind of indicated that keeping Steve alive had been a problem even before he'd started throwing himself at armies. It had clearly been Soldier's job to keep Steve alive for a very, very long time.

Made him wonder how Steve had managed when they'd been separated. Somehow, he didn't think he'd like the answer.

They talked tactics and training with Queen Bestla for several hours, during which Soldier found himself getting amused by Steve Ma'aming the woman. It was clearly an instinctive response to her personality, though Soldier didn't have any memories (yet) that explained where Steve had met someone like her.

Interestingly enough, he was sort of responding to that tone in a similar way himself. Sort of. When he wasn't fighting the urge to flinch away from her. That particular tone had meant bad things too much recently for him to be entirely comfortable with it, regardless of what it had meant at some nebulous point in the past.

Once the talking was done, they were offered a proper tour of the city by Bestla. Soldier got the definite impression she was a very hands-on sort of leader, one who didn't like making other people do things she could do herself.

Either that or she was trying to impress them. Which wasn't out of the question.

They'd seen about half the city when the ground began to tremble underfoot. Seconds later, someone bellowed something in a language Soldier didn't know. Bestla whipped around towards the yell.

"Damnation. A bilgesnipe stampede heading straight for the city." She groused.

"Big problem?" Steve asked.

"Nothing we haven't dealt with innumerable times, but fixing the damage they cause gets tiresome." Bestla admitted. "Even if that only means fixing the wall, and not the city proper."

They continued the tour, despite the ground starting to shake harder. A few moments after that, Soldier could hear the panicked bellowing, then the crunch of bone against rock as the bilgesnipe slammed into the city wall.

"Out of curiosity, why is such a big animal so skittish, do you know?" Tony asked.

Bestla shook her head. "We do not know for sure. They are not the largest creatures of our realm, but they are one of the larger ones, and there are relatively few predators that will attempt to take one down. We can't confirm it but most suspect they're just that stupid."

That got a laugh from Tony, and an agreeing nod from Thor. When the ruckus finally died down, Bestla led them to where the herd had rammed into the city wall.

They'd put a sizeable dent in a thirty or forty foot section of the wall, and there were easily a dozen dead bilgesnipe piled against the wall where they'd been trampled to death by their fellows. Several of the locals were already sorting through the bodies, apparently for usable hunks of meat and other parts before the rest was destroyed. Soldier cocked his head, then elbowed Steve with his flesh elbow. When Steve looked over, Soldier made a triangle shape with his hands.

"I think that'd only work if the bilgesnipe came at the points." Steve said, clearly picking up on what Soldier was trying to say. "The sides'd be long, flat targets, where a circle is at least all curved and *some* of them might get diverted around the city."

"But if they could rotate the triangle ... " Tony said from Steve's far side. The point would always be aimed at the stampede. Something to think about. It'd take some serious work to figure out, though."

Bestla eyed him, and before anyone realized what she was about (or could have an opportunity to stop her) she clapped him on the shoulder.

The second her hand connected, Soldier was hit by sheer, blind panic and bone-deep terror. He collapsed out from under her hand like his hamstrings had been cut and scuttled back and away from her, not even trying to get his feet under him even when his back hit a wall. He just curled in on himself and started to shake.

And, unbeknownst to him, to start babbling. Very, very quietly, nearly a whisper, but it was there.

(_)(_)(_)

Steve had never actually told Bucky (though he was very sure Bucky knew) but he'd had nightmares fairly frequently after rescuing him, imagining what had been done, what *would* have been done if Steve hadn't found him.

He'd even had some after he'd woken up in this era. Surprisingly enough, he hadn't been hit with one since they'd rescued Bucky (again). He wasn't looking forward to that when it happened. Not with the new information his brain had to work with.

Living this was nightmare enough.

He had no idea why Bucky folded like a house of cards when Bestla clapped him on the shoulder, and honestly, it didn't really mattered. All that mattered - and what was tearing Steve's heart out by the roots - was the panic and fear in Bucky's eyes and the monotone, near whisper of 'nononononononononononono'. That and the fact that despite clearly being scared out of his mind, Bucky had made no real move to defend himself, just curled in on himself, waiting to get hit.

Steve had seen that, more often than he liked to remember, back in the thirties when they'd been growing up. Kids cringing away from other, bigger kids. Or their parents. Or some other adult. Kids who knew that not only did they not have the wherewithal to fight the other person off, but that fighting just made it worse.

It was seeing stuff like that that had made Steve storm in, fists balled up and antagonistic words on his lips. For all the good it'd done, when he'd been a ninety pound asthmatic. But he hadn't been able to stand by, seeing that sort of thing.

Too bad there wasn't a target to punch here. Hopefully there would be, by the time he and Tony got back. Because Steve was going to *enjoy* giving back every bit of what Bucky had so clearly gotten. And maybe a little extra, just to really teach them a lesson.

It took Steve a couple second to reel in his anger at the people who'd hurt Bucky. He let Thor, Loki, and Tony deal with Bestla. They'd explain, and reassure her this wasn't her fault.

Once he wasn't seeing red quite so much (it was never going to disappear entirely, Steve didn't think, this anger at the folks who'd hurt Bucky), he approached Bucky slowly, carefully, not wanting to make the situation worse.

"Easy, easy." Steve murmured, stumbling a bit over the temptation to use Bucky's name. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise. Easy."

It took a few repetitions for Soldier to uncurl a little. When he spotted Steve, though, he relaxed all at once. The level of trust that implied shook Steve to his bones. He'd known, of course, that on some level Soldier remembered him even before the surgery to get the old arm off him. Natasha had pointed it out that first night, when Soldier had been fixating on him.

He'd known that Bucky trusted him, for that matter. To a point. Bucky hadn't trusted him to not charge head first into danger, but ... yeah. Other than that, Bucky had trusted him. Steve just hadn't realized how *deep* that trust had run. Deep enough that, stripped of pretty much literally everything, he'd *still* trusted Steve more or less on sight.

That said, it about killed him when he offered a hand, and Soldier sort of tugged Steve towards him. Steve let himself get tugged, and settled against the wall, trying to act like this was a halfway normal circumstance.

"Kind of big, aren't they?" He asked.

Soldier nodded.

"You said you remember me being little, right?" Steve asked, getting another nod. "Yeah, well, I'm kind of back to feeling little, you know?" He glanced up at Bestla.

She looked a combination of sheepish, concerned, and like she wanted to scold the heck out of someone. Steve figured he knew what the latter two might be about.

"He's latched onto me." Steve explained. Which missed the truth of things by a huge margin, but was a much shorter, easier explanation than the truth. "Really only feels safe with me, even if the others'd protect him. He point blank refused to go back to Earth without me." Steve snorted. "Without saying more than two words to do it, too." He shrugged. "We don't really have time to go back, let him get his feet under him, and *then* start talking to everybody about organizing to deal with Thanos."

Bestla sighed. "And so you do what you must." She said, her tone one of understanding. Then her mouth twisted. "King Salar will be ... most unkind, in fair warning."

"Yeah, and he'll get a knuckle sandwich for it." Steve said, not quite able to censor himself.

Tony choked on a laugh, while the other three mouthed the phrase, almost in tandem. Even better, all three of them got it at about the same time, making Steve snicker a little bit, despite the current situation.

To his surprise, Bestla pretty much literally started roaring in laughter. When she calmed down, she grinned down at Steve. "I would love to see that. The one time I met the man, I was desperately tempted to rearrange his arrogant face, but to do so would likely have started a war between us."

"He's really that bad?" Tony asked. "I mean, Thor and Loki have warned us, but ... "

Bestla sighed. "Elves are a bit arrogant to start with." She said. "Salar is, unfortunately, a prime example of that. He fancies himself the greatest King of the Nine. About the only good part of that was Odin's reaction to such a proclamation. I didn't get to witness it personally." Bestla nodded towards Loki. "But I heard all about it."

That got a snort of a laugh out of not just him, but Tony and, much to Steve's pleasure, Soldier as well. Evidently, he was recovering as fast as he went down. Which was good. Steve didn't know if he'd be able to handle a prolonged ... well, whatever that had been (anxiety attack? Flashback? Whatever). These short attacks were bad enough.

At that point, Bestla looked at Soldier and addressed him directly. "I apologize, young man. I did not mean to cause you harm."

Soldier huffed a little, and waved his flesh hand dismissively.

"I think that's 'don't worry about it'." Steve offered, getting an agreeing nod from Bucky.

Bestla snorted. "I shall worry if I please." She said. "Now, we should head for the feast hall. The stampede will have provided more than enough for a feast tonight, and you will need food in your bellies and a good night's sleep before you approach whichever of the other rulers is next on your list."

"It's Salar, interestingly enough." Tony said.

"Well, I wish you luck. You're going to need it." Bestla said.

She led them to the feast hall, which proved to actually be a huge flat area covered by the first tents Steve'd seen on the planet. Tents that were, if anything, more colorful than the (he still hoped it was paint) stones of the wall and buildings. The ground was bare, packed earth, and there were nearly a hundred people already there. Half of them were standing by what had to be a cooking pit. Steve couldn't see into it, but there was smoke coming out of the hole they were standing by, so that was the most reasonable explanation. There were also some regular fire pits, with enormous cauldrons on tripods over them, all smoking away. A series of long tables stood end to end in between the cooking area and the rest of the space, clearly intended to be the serving space for the food. The air was rich with smells Steve didn't even know how to describe, but that he figured were the result of alien spices. Despite not being able to describe the smell, Steve (and more important his stomach) decided it smelled good, and his stomach rumbled.

The rest of the people were bustling about putting up low-to-the-ground trestle tables. Low enough that a Nidavellir could sit on the ground and eat comfortably from the table top. A couple of them, spotting Bestla and the people tagging along behind her, scurried off and reappeared a minute or two later with cushions that would let the off-worlders reach the table tops comfortably.

Getting the food off the serving tables, though, was going to be a challenge. Because the things were roughly shoulder height to him, Thor, and Loki. Bucky, who was a couple inches shorter than Steve (and that, after a lifetime of being markedly shorter than Bucky, hadn't stopped feeling strange as heck yet) could about see over the serving table, but that was it. Tony could walk *under* the thing and not hit his head.

Steve figured there had to be an answer to the problem somewhere, because he sincerely doubted the Nidavellir were born that tall, which meant they had to have figured out some accommodation for their kids, which would work for them.

Still, Tony's grumbling about freakishly tall people was funny.

Chapter Text

Peter

(_)(_)(_)

That night, Peter slept better than he had since he'd been bitten.

It wasn't like it was all over. Aunt May still didn't know about, you know, Spiderman, or that Uncle Ben's death was his fault.

Ok, ok, the rational part of his brain knew that last was a bunch of nonsense. He hadn't shot Uncle Ben himself, so not his fault. But most of him was still stuck on the fact that Uncle Ben wouldn't have even been in that part of town if it hadn't been for him, which made it his fault.

Still, Aunt May's reaction to the news of the spider bite and resultant powers had been a huge relief. He felt sort of stupid for thinking she'd react badly, which kind of made him think he was over-reacting at least about the Uncle Ben thing, too. Though he was still pretty sure she'd blow a gasket over Spiderman. Just because Peter had been running around doing stuff with not fully tested and understood abilities, not the fact that Spiderman was him.

Anyway, with the one load off his mind, he'd slept like a log. Which was probably just as well. Because Aunt May had gotten him up bright and early. She'd cooked a big breakfast for them both and basically stuffed Peter silly, then sent him off to dress for their 'appointment' at Stark Tower.

He hadn't been able to resist the urge to hug her when she came out of her room dressed in her Sunday best. Because seriously. It was adorable, awesome, and kind of alarming all at the same time. Peter rather strongly suspected she'd dressed up like that as a way to psyche herself up to go to war for him if necessary, and definitely to impress the Avengers, which ... yeah.

Peter didn't think she'd have to defend him, but if she ever did, Peter was totally betting on her. She had always been the fierce one between her and Uncle Ben, and Peter was willing to bet she could 'mom' every last Avenger straight into defeat. It was actually kind of hilarious to think about, really.

She hugged him back, then put him at arm's length and looked him up and down. "You look like a ruffian, Peter." She scolded, her tone more affectionate than anything else.

"Aunt May, I'm going to be bouncing around testing my powers. Besides, they've already met me. Dressing to impress is ... " Peter shrugged. "Kinda beside the point now. And I didn't get the impression they cared about that sort of thing. I mean, Miss Potts probably does when she's dealing with SI business, but she was one of two in really snazzy clothes. The other one was *totally* some sort of government spook, even if he was trying not to act like it. The sort where two piece suits are considered business casual. Everybody else was running around in tees and jeans sort of clothes."

Aunt May huffed a little, but then nodded. "All right. If you're sure."

Peter hitched his backpack holding his suit (Aunt May probably assumed it was a change of clothes. Which it was, technically) into a better position and they headed out the door.

He'd been right about her getting ready to go to war. Aunt May visibly braced herself as they got closer to the Tower. It made him want to hug her again, but he refrained in deference to the fact they'd get run down by the rest of the foot traffic.

They stopped at the desk. Peter wasn't entirely sure he had clearance to just go right up, and even if he did, Aunt May definitely didn't.

"Welcome back, Peter." One of the secretaries at the big desk said. After a second, Peter remembered her from his first visit. "Who's this you've got with you?"

"My Aunt May. She's the boss of me." Peter said with a grin. "Could you ask if we can go up?"

The secretary consulted with someone over her earpiece, and then waved them towards the bank of elevators. "You're both welcome to head up. You remember the right one, Peter?"

"Kind of hard to forget." Peter said with a laugh, then led Aunt May to the red and gold elevators.

Whatever Aunt May'd been planning got derailed just a little, because John and Rogue were the ones to meet them, again. More importantly, the entertainment floor looked to be pretty empty, with only Miss Potts in evidence.

"Hey John, Rogue." Peter greeted them with a grin. "This is my Aunt May."

"Told her, huh?" John asked, then nodded to Aunt May. "Ma'am."

"Yeah. It was gonna get impossible to hide, if I started hanging out here any kind of time." Peter admitted, and promptly got slapped on the arm by Aunt May.

"Just how long." Aunt May said, sounding irritated. "Were you planning on hiding this from me if events hadn't conspired to force you into telling me?"

Peter ducked his head and shuffled his feet sheepishly. Which was apparently answer enough, because he got another arm-smack.

"Young man!" Aunt May scolded.

There was an unexpected laugh, and Miss Potts came around one of the couches to greet them. "Sounds like you have him well in hand, Mrs ... ?"

"Parker." May filled in. "May Parker. I'm Peter's aunt and guardian." Aunt May shot Peter a speaking look. "He didn't tell me until last night that he'd been ... well, I suppose the best word for it is 'affected', by a spider bite."

Which had Miss Potts looking at him with what he was pretty sure was exasperated amusement. "I know the type." Miss Potts said.

Peter wasn't quite sure whether to be thrilled he had something in common with Tony Stark or horrified that what he had in common was, well, disappointing the people that cared about them.

"You've actually caught us at a really good time. Most of the Avengers are on the exercise floor. They all seem to prefer working out in the mornings." Miss Potts said. "It's the next floor down. John and Rogue can take you there. I'd do it myself, but unfortunately business waits for no one, especially when Mr. Stark is off-world." Miss Potts made a slight face that unless Peter was much mistaken might be the beginnings of awe and or disbelief. "And I am still trying to get used to saying that and it being both possible and true."

"Yeah. I'm like, not even really in on that, and I keep getting bowled over by it." Peter admitted.

"Well, it was good to meet you, Mrs. Parker, and hopefully we'll cross paths again later, when there's a chance to talk a bit more." Miss Potts said, offering a handshake (which Aunt May took her up on), and then she disappeared into the elevator.

"Wow." Peter said, staring at the elevator door for a minute. "I mean, anyone who knows anything about SI knows she's pretty much made of awesome and win, but it's ... yeah. Meeting her is *something else*."

That got a laugh out of John and Rogue both.

"She's a little terrifying when she's on a roll." Rogue admitted. "I kind of want to be her when I grow up though, because you're right. Awesome and win. And she *totally* has Tony whipped, too. Well, as much as is humanly possible anyway. I don't think anyone or anything can completely get him under control."

Once Jarvis (and if that wasn't cool, Peter honestly didn't know what was) told them the elevator was clear, they all piled in and headed to the next floor.

Peter took one look and sort of whimpered.

Clint was to one side, working his arms on a machine loaded with the sort of weight that still made Peter cringe and 'ow' reflexively at, even though it was well within his abilities now. Remy and Black Widow both were bouncing around some gymnastic equipment in what was clearly a competition of sorts. Peter was totally rooting for Remy. Because Black Widow scared him shitless.

Dr. Banner was doing some sort of yoga-ish something or other, or maybe one of those martial arts with a lot of flowing, medative moves. Peter wasn't quite sure which. Logan was there too, but he wasn't exercising, at least not at the moment anyway. He did have the sweat-damp look going, which said he'd been doing something before they'd arrived though. He was currently watching Bruce with a very odd look on his face.

Probably because he wasn't busy, Logan was the first to actually react to their entrance, whether or not he'd noticed them first.

"Hey, the shrimp's back." Logan called.

"Oh, a name I haven't been called before." Peter snarked, his mouth apparently deciding to act without checking in with his brain first. "Tell me another one!"

That got a laugh from more than one source. Dr. Banner straightened out of his ... well, whatever that had been.

"Your timing's pretty good, Peter." He said. "Not everything's complete, but I can tell you that thus far, whatever happened to you does seem stable. So barring unforseen circumstances - which are definitely a possibility these days - " Dr. Banner looked a little rueful. "You shouldn't lose your abilities or start growing more legs or spinnerets or anything of that nature."

Peter heaved out a sigh of relief. Aunt May, though was not for being so easily reassured.

"And just how sure are you?" She demanded to know.

"Aunt May!" Peter squawked. This was *Dr. Banner*. He wouldn't say something if it wasn't true.

Dr. Banner looked distinctly amused. "Well, Tony's is the best equipment money can buy or build." He said. "There's always a margin for error with this sort of thing simply because we don't know, at least yet, how it came about, but the likelihood of a problem without the influence of outside factors is less than ten percent, even with just the initial reports."

Aunt May did look mollified at that, finally.

"At any rate, I think it's safe enough to test his abilities. Everybody's volunteered to help where they can." Dr. Banner said.

Peter had a feeling they'd volunteered more to have something to take their minds of the crap that had been dumped on their heads lately, than out of any deep interest in him and his abilities. He really didn't mind.

"So ... what, want me to change?" Peter asked.

"Not right away. We figured we'd do a few more mundane tests before we started getting inventive." Dr. Banner said. "For instance ... " He led Peter over towards a weight set.

But this wasn't just any weight set. This was the sort of weight set that Peter was pretty sure Arnold Schwarzenegger would have had difficulty with even in his heyday.

"Lemme guess. Thor uses these." Peter said.

"Yep. And Steve and Loki. Logan too, when he's in the right mood for it." Dr. Banner said. "The equipment on that side of the room is all 'standard person' stuff, which if you're having trouble telling what should be heavy and what shouldn't, is probably well within your abilities to handle. Plus, the low end of these is the same as the high end of the 'regular people' weights."

"So if I can lift the light stuff here, I'd pretty much be out of the others." Peter said, and dropped his backpack against a nearby souped-up treadmill. Seriously, the thing was a Tony special, apparently hooked up to a *vehicle motor* that was in turn powered by an arc reactor, to get the speeds the supers on the team could reach when running. It was enough to give Peter a complex, even if he had a suspicion he could manage on the thing. And that he would be soon enough.

Dr. Banner insisted on proper weight-lifting form, which ... ok, Peter could see his point. Even if it turned out that lifting the lightest of the weights was ridiculously easy.

"Want me to juggle it? Because this sort of feels like picking up a balled up piece of paper would." Peter said.

Dr. Banner huffed a laugh, and motioned for him to put it down, then indicated one of the weights in the middle range of the 'super weights'.

"Still ridiculously light." Peter said, resisting the increasing urge to juggle the thing. Aunt May would kill him.

He worked his way through all the weights without finding one that came anywhere close to feeling like too much. Which was a bit disconcerting when Dr. Banner told him the heaviest of the weights was roughly half a ton, about double the Olympic record for weight lifting.

"Tony's working on heavier weights, but it's a bit of a challenge." Dr. Banner said. "Not just finding materials that won't warp or collapse with that sort of weight hanging off a relatively small area, but finding someplace to put an exercise facility with weights that heavy. Can't put stuff like that in the Tower."

"Yeah, no, a gym with weights in excess of a ton in a skyscraper would be *bad*." Peter agreed.

"All right, it's probable that, given you can handle half a ton without a problem, a full ton is at the very least within your abilities, even if it might not be ridiculously easy. Let's see how you are with speed."

This, at least, turned out to have a limit the existing equipment could manage. Peter was definitely a lot faster than a normal human, but nowhere near beating car speeds. He topped out at about fifty miles per hour. And that would definitely be sprinting, not marathons, as just getting up to that speed (at a reasonable speed-up rate) left him a little breathless. He could probably keep that speed up for a minute or two, but not much more than that.

Those two tests done, they got to the fun stuff. Testing the limits of his agility off the ground.

"We'd better clear out, and head for the observation room." Dr. Banner told Aunt May, pointing to a small room off to one side. "They're liable to range all over for this. Remy and Natasha have a distressing tendency to do so when it's just the two of them. Add testing Peter into is ... " He looked amused as he herded Aunt May towards the observation room.

Peter swallowed hard. She'd see, but for this ... he needed his suit. Regular clothes just ... were a problem. They bunched up and just generally got in the way. And besides, changing would give him a minute or two to get his head around having to work with, of all people, Black Widow.

"I need to change real quick." He said, then grabbed his backpack and bolted for the men's locker room tucked against one wall.

Chapter Text

Aunt May

(_)(_)(_)

Aunt May watched the various Avengers with an eagle eye. She could see why Peter was so intimidated by the Black Widow woman. She was quite good looking, which would cause a teenage boy problems all on its own, and had a rather predatory, no-nonsense air even when she was flinging herself about on gymnastic equipment.

Peter had been right about one thing, which pleased May greatly. The Avengers, at least these ones, all seemed rather down to earth and definitely not puffed up with their own importance. Though they did seem a little on the crass side.

She supposed she could deal with that. And they certainly were due a few concessions, considering what they'd accomplished. Still, Peter was her responsibility, so they weren't going to escape the inquisition entirely.

Once they were in the observation room, she turned to face Dr. Banner and the two men who'd followed him in. Hawkeye and Logan, codenamed Wolverine, she believed, from the information spread over television. Hands on her hips, she glowered at them.

"Just what is it." She demanded. "That you intend to do with my nephew?"

Dr. Banner blinked at her tone, and Hawkeye actually twitched. Logan just cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Ummm." Dr. Banner said, sounding a bit thrown, much to May's pleasure. "Help him get a handle on his powers?" He offered.

She frowned. "See that's *all* you do. He is far too young to ... "

Anything else she was going to say got cut off as Peter came out of the locker room.

Dressed as Spiderman.

" ... I am going to tan that boy's hide until it matches that suit!" She snapped, somewhere between rage and blind panic. "What in heaven's name was he thinking? He could have gotten himself killed, running around playing at being a superhero with powers he didn't even know for sure were stable!"

The thought of potentially having lost both Peter and Ben within such a short span made her chest seize. She didn't stop to think, just stormed back out into the gymnasium.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!!!!!" She bellowed.

Later, she'd find it funny that Peter leaped for the ceiling and clung there the moment the observation door opened, well before she started yelling, keeping well out of range of physical retaliation. And even with his entire face hidden, he managed to look extremely sheepish.

"Of all the irresponsible, idiotic things to do, young man!" Aunt May yelled at a somewhat lessened level. "You said yourself you have no idea what you can really do or whether it was stable or not, and yet your first response is to ... to ... " She flapped a hand up at him and the Spiderman suit. "I am going to tan your hide and ground you for a YEAR." She huffed. "Maybe two! Get *down* here, right now!"

Peter dropped to the floor with gratifying alacrity. May restrained the urge to shake him until his brain rattled in his skull, and settled for hugging the life out of him, then pulling back to give him a fulminating glare.

"I couldn't have borne losing you too, Peter. You have *got* to be more careful! I don't know *where* your head's gone the last few months. You're usually a lot more level headed and sensible than this!"

"I got scared." He admitted in a quiet voice. "I didn't know what was going on and got all turned around. And ... and then ... " He made a choking noise.

"And then Ben was killed." May said.

Peter squirmed around for a minute, and then blurted out. "It was my fault. He wouldn't have ... "

Oh.

OH.

No *wonder* he'd been acting so oddly, if he'd been blaming himself.

Evidently, the Avengers had good sense, because the lot of them disappeared like smoke, giving the two of them what privacy they could.

"Oh, Peter, sweetie. It wasn't your fault." May said, then pulled him into another hug. "Not unless you pulled the trigger yourself, which I know you didn't. Things happen, Peter. You had no way of knowing that was going to happen. No way to stop it, even with your new abilities."

Peter sort of buried his face against her shoulder, and they stayed like that for a while. Eventually, he pulled himself back together, enough so he actually pulled the mask off and wiped his eyes.

"Is that why the Spiderman thing?" She finally asked.

Peter sniffled a little, then nodded. "I can't ... I couldn't ... " He flapped a hand, then huffed. "I don't want anyone else to hurt like that. I'm not ... " He waved a hand towards the elevator, indicating the Avengers. "I'm not like them, not really. Saving the world? A bit much. But I can stop the small stuff."

May let out a little laugh. "Oh, Peter. Give it a little time, and you'll change the world too, you know. You're so smart that sometimes it scared us both. Even before this." She waved at the suit. "Ben and I both were very sure there wasn't much of anything you couldn't do if you put your mind to it." Then she glowered at him. "I am still going to tan your hide for hiding this from me, though." And then she swatted him upside the head.

"Ow!" Peter whined, cringing away from her theatrically. Then he sniffed and hugged her again. "Thanks, Aunt May." He mumbled against her collar.

After that, they pulled apart, and Peter glanced around, then up. "Ummm ... hello?"

After a second, a distinctly amused, if mechanized, voice responded. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Can you tell the Avengers they can come back in? We're done being all emotional." Peter said.

"Though that conversation we're going to have does keep getting longer." May said, giving Peter a look.

He gave her a sheepish look in return. "Yeah, I kinda figured."

The Avengers trooped back in, and May returned to the observation room with Dr. Banner, Hawkeye, and Logan.

"He forgot to tell you a few things, I take it?" Dr. Banner asked, sounding amused.

"Yes." May said, then sighed. "Though I don't really blame him. The last few months of his life would have been difficult for most adults to handle sensibly. A sixteen year old boy didn't stand a chance. We'll get through." She gave an amused huff. "We always have."

"If you don't mind me asking ... what happened to his parents?"

May sighed. "They died when he was very young." She said, mostly evading answering him. "Ben and I raised him from a toddler. He may not be my son by blood, but I'm really the only mother he remembers. His memories of his parents are fuzzy at best."

Dr. Banner didn't push for specifics, which she appreciated. "For whatever it's worth ... if he's determined enough to do this to have made an outfit for himself ... well, this is probably the best place for him to do his thing. We can keep an eye on him, back him up, and generally keep him from biting off more than he can chew." Then Dr. Banner sighed. "And given the circumstances, it's probably better for him to learn how to fight."

"And why do you say that?" Aunt May demanded.

"The aliens? They're going to be coming back. Lots more of them. In about ... eleven months, now, give or take. We're doing what we can to mobilize defenses, but this is going to be big and seriously ugly no matter what we do. Everyone's going to be in the crosshairs." Dr. Banner told her.

"Oh dear." May said. "That is ... definitely not good news."

She stared out at the gym for a few minutes, watching as Peter bounced around the room, doing impossible twists and tumbles. She laughed a little when she realized that he was mostly running *away* from Black Widow. Who seemed to know it and was using it to motivate Peter to greater and greater feats of agility to get away from her.

"She utterly terrifies him." May admitted, more than a little amused.

"She utterly terrifies anyone with sense." Dr. Banner said, sounding equally amused. "She is hands down the deadliest person on the planet. And I'm including Hulk in that estimation."

"Speaking of ... him? Is Hulk a him?" May asked. "Where is he?"

"Yes, Hulk's a him." Dr. Banner said, then got a little shifty. "Why do you ask?"

"I am curious about him. Of course, I've heard terrible things about him, but I had friends in Harlem, and they were quite clear on Hulk being the one trying to save the day, despite all the damage done. Plus, he was helping with the invasion. So I'm rather given to thinking the fearmongers are ... well, fearmongering. But I do like to judge such things for myself when I can." May said.

Interestingly, Dr. Banner blushed ... and then looked remarkably like Peter had just a little bit ago. Sheepish and a touch guilty.

"It's ... complicated ... but he's ... here." Dr. Banner tapped his head. "There was an accident, nearly a decade ago now, and I absorbed a lot of gamma radiation. Somehow, instead of killing me, it ... well, made Hulk." Then, in a tone that made it clear this was an almost automatic addition. "I wouldn't be here if I thought it was dangerous."

"I'm quite sure you wouldn't be." May said. "Peter rather adores you, and from what he's said you've never been one of those scientists that gets sloppy in the lab. Does he know?"

"I don't think so. We've been kind of keeping it quiet that Hulk and I are one and the same. He's ... well, very protective of me, and crowds of grabby, adoring fans would not go over well."

May huffed a laugh. "I can imagine. Not to mention that there would be the inevitable idiot who would deliberately attempt to trigger Hulk into appearing, if that was common knowledge. Which would, I imagine, go over even less well with him."

That got an amused-sounding snort from the other two men in the room. "Lady, you ain't said a truer word." Logan said.

"You'll tell me the whole tale at some point." May said. "If Peter is to be hanging about with your group, I'll insist on knowing everything that could affect him."

"I'll tell you my story and what's going on in general." Dr. Banner told her. "But you're going to have to pry everyone else's stories out of them."

"Fair enough." May allowed.

Before she could really start asking questions, the testing came to a close, and Peter, Gambit, and Black Widow came in. Peter pulled off his mask and flopped down, exhaling hard. May fought down a grin when she realized that, despite being scared to death of her, Peter had put himself between May and Black Widow.

"Well, he's more flexible than I am, which is saying something since I'm not exactly human normal myself." Gambit admitted. He flopped into another chair, looking a good bit sweatier and more tired than Peter did. "And he's got better stamina, if only just."

"His form's rough, but given he's only just started, that's not surprising." Black Widow said. "That and the stamina can be improved with some work. Give him a little time and he'll be fairly formidable in a fight."

Hawkeye elbowed her somewhat less than subtly, which May gave him points for doing. She glanced at him with a frown. They had a complex little conversation with headtilts, eyebrows, and hand gestures that were definitely not regular sign language, and the irritation on Black Widow's face faded into understanding.

"If you're willing to let him train, of course." Widow added, rather belatedly.

May wondered about the delay, and the fact that she (apparently) had to be reminded that getting a guardian's permission was necessary for someone underage, but decided not to pursue the subject right then. Widow had corrected her oversight and that was really all that counted.

Especially in the face of Peter giving her the wide, hopeful puppydog eyes. And in the face of what Dr. Banner had told her.

"Provided I am kept in the informational loop, including being informed when you believe him to be fighting ready and wish to include him in any tasks that come up, and you ask before taking him out of state for any reason, I see no real reason to gainsay him getting training." May said, then leveled a flat look at Peter. "Provided, in addition, that he gets his grades back up and *keeps* them up where they belong. I'll not have him trashing his future career possibilities in his efforts to save the world, however noble that cause may be."

"You don't want to have final say on whether or not he fights?" Hawkeye asked, looking curious.

May gave the Spiderman suit a significant look. "I believe that choice is out of my hands. If he truly wishes to fight the good fight, there is little to nothing I could do to stop him. The best I can do for him is to ensure he gets the best training possible to give him the best chance of living to a ripe old age." Then May sighed. "Especially given Dr. Banner's news about the aliens. If they're going to come back and cause trouble, well ... Peter needs to be able to survive that, and I think this is his best chance."

Peter got a mulish look on his face. "Only if you're safe, Aunt May. I don't think I could really ... I mean, if you're in the line of fire, you're going to be my main concern." He admitted.

"If I know Tony half as well as I wish I didn't." Widow said. "He's got some sort of plan in mind for the noncombatants nearest and dearest to the Avengers. Possibly having everyone removed to Asgard. The being leading the aliens, a creature named Thanos, cannot step foot on Asgard. So if the aliens, the Chitauri, head there, Earth is already lost, and most likely us with it. And at that point there won't be anywhere safe."

Peter gave a nod. "That'll work." He said. "So any idea when the other four will be back?"

"If they've kept to their itinerary, they're on Alfheim right now." Dr. Banner said. "With Vanaheim and Jotunheim tomorrow and the next day, so with luck, they'll be back by the start of next week. Why do you ask?"

"Because I could really use Mr. Stark's help with these." Peter pulled a sleeve back, revealing an odd cuff around his wrist. "It's how I do the webs. They work, but they're on the rough side, since I wasn't willing to steal to get better stuff to work with."

"You better not have been!" May scolded.

Chapter Text

Charles

(_)(_)(_)

(Day 21)

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. da Costa." Charles said, motoring into the man's office.

"In light of recent events and the rumors that have reached my ears, I thought it prudent." Roberto admitted.

Charles had looked into the young man when John Proudstar had recommended him as a potential ally in South America. Like Tony and Warren, Roberto was the son of a millionaire businessman. Like Warren, he had manifested young, though not so young as Bobby and John had.

Unlike Warren, Roberto's manifestation had been rather public, taking place in the middle of a soccer game. Roberto's father had secluded his son for quite some time afterward, though whether that had been an attempt to protect his son or something else, Charles was uncertain.

Roberto had re-emerged shortly after his eighteenth birthday, and had taken up a position in his father's company. Interestingly, he had never interacted with either Tony or Warren. While that could easily be explained by Roberto being based out of Brazil, there could be less innocent reasons.

The questions Charles had about the man would be why he'd arranged to meet him. Charles did not think he was outright evil - he did not think Proudstar would recommend someone like that to him. But that did not mean that Roberto did not harbor a degree of internalized racism or prejudice against mutants. He'd hardly be the first mutant to think ill of themselves. Likewise, he could simply have a personality ill suited to leading a combat team.

"We find ourselves ... " Charles said. "And by we, I mean all of Earth ... in a rather sticky spot, Mr. da Costa. The aliens that invaded New York, however briefly, were not alone. While that attempt was turned aside, their general fully intends to not just conquer Earth, but wipe out all life both here and everywhere else he can reach."

Roberto sat back in his office chair. "That is ... disturbing news." He said. "I presume there is more information to be had, and a plan of action being implemented?"

"Yes, to both." Charles said. "In brief ... Norse mythology is not *entirely* wild stories. There are, indeed, nine realms. Seven of which are currently inhabited by sapient peoples, including our own. Two are apparently now empty wastelands. While it was not explicitly explained so, I believe the nine worlds are connected because they are similar enough that the residents of the realms can live on the other realms with minimal or no assistance of any kind."

Roberto nodded. "Makes a certain amount of sense. So the men identified as Thor and Loki in the news are the Thor and Loki of legend, then?"

"Yes and no. Yes, in that they both exist and are from Asgard. No in that they are not gods, and I have been given to understand that most of the tales in Norse mythology are at best embellished to the point of ridiculousness, and at worst completely false." Charles told him. "I won't go into full details, as the story is rather long, but Loki fell into ... extremely inimical hands, those of a being named Thanos who, per several residents of the other Realms, is utterly insane and psychotic. He believes himself in love with Death, and in order to win her hand, seeks to send her gifts."

Roberto made a face. "And by that, I presume you mean a lot of deaths."

"Quite. Some four thousand years or so ago, he was banished from the other Realms, which I was informed is a process that renders the banished being unable to enter the Realm they've been banished from. Unfortunately, both at that time and this, Earth is unable to perform this process."

"Do we know why?" Roberto asked.

"Put simply ... we're not united enough." Charles told him. "One of the other commonalities of the Realms is that each has a King or Queen, who were chosen for the honor by an object native to their Realm. They rule over *all* their people. These items only appear at a point in the Realm's history when its people have begun to unify."

"And we here on Earth are nowhere near such a thing." Roberto said. "And I presume that while this Thanos cannot enter the other Realms, his army can."

"Quite. If he conquers Earth, he can use our world as a base of operations from which to strike at the other Realms." Charles said. "And while the various governments of Earth will no doubt rally to the cause, well. Further steps are being taken. The other Realms are preparing for war as well, and will come to our aid."

Roberto nodded. "And I presume you are contacting what of ... shall I say, our people? ... you have contact with."

"Quite so. Mutants possess unique abilities that will be of great value in defending the planet. That doing so will improve human-mutant relations is a not inconsiderable bonus. I have contacts on most of the continents save here and Australia, and have asked them to gather however many of their fellows as are willing that they can find. John Proudstar pointed me in your direction. It is my hope that you would do likewise, and if you do not feel yourself competent to lead such a team, you might know of someone who would." Charles said.

"I am perhaps not suited to leadership of a combat unit." Roberto admitted. "But gathering like minds, ensuring they have the materiel they need, and fostering someone who does have that sort of ability, that I can do." Then he smiled. "Not to mention offering my own not inconsiderable abilities to the task at hand. I shall begin seeking out suitable persons as soon as possible."

Charles nodded. He was a little disappointed that da Costa didn't seem interested in leading a team, but pledging to gather a group together and support them monetarily was nearly as good. If he could find a competent leader ... whether he got dragged into the role kicking and screaming thanks to circumstance or it was someone else ... so much the better.

(_)(_)(_)

(Day 27)

Almost a full week after having met with Mr. da Costa, Charles finally got a chance to review the reports coming in from his various friends and allies.

Jean-Paul Beaubier had a team of six thus far, including his sister, and had begun training. The Guthrie clan, of course, had been training from the beginning, but Sam Guthrie had found a few unrelated mutants in the area and added them to the clan roster, forming the largest team at a full dozen.

Pete Wisdom's group ... which was less a unified team and more a loose confederation of adult individuals (all over the age of twenty-five) willing to work together when big problems came up was actually the next largest at eight. They were spread out over most of Europe.

Mikhail Rasputin's group was the smallest thus far, with just himself and two others, one of them his little sister. But he was having to be very careful and quiet about recruiting. Russia might not be the bastion of communism it had once been, but a lot of the ideals that had been fostered in communist Russia still lingered in the populace, and Russia was one of the more unwelcoming places for mutants because of it.

Carol Danvers had, to his surprise, come up with five people beside herself in the United States military, and was following rumors of more. Finding them a way to train together was going to be problematic, though. At least if they wanted to keep the group out of the clutches of the sorts of people who had experimented on Logan, anyway.

Interestingly, Betsy Braddock had opted to join forces with Sean Cassidy. Charles wasn't quite sure what to make of that particular team-up, but he had no fears as to the competence of their team in a fight. They'd found three people in their late teens willing to throw their skills into the pot. John Proudstar, incredibly, had located five Native American mutants scattered throughout Canada and the United States, which was more than Charles had thought he'd find.

Shiro Yashida was being *picky*, if Charles read that report right. If it could be called a report at all. More of a 'here, you filth. See how much better I am than you' taunt, really. There was a distinct tone of 'choosing those most worthy to defend our great empire', which carried the implication of not taking anyone with combat-applicable powers and the desire to fight to defend the planet into his team. While in less dire circumstances picking those you liked best for your team was completely acceptable, this was hardly the time to be so selective. Every capable fighter was needed.

He was going to have to send someone to Japan to suss that situation out. Probably Loki, once he and the others had returned to the planet. If anyone could smack some sense into Shiro without pissing him off or turning him petulant, it would be Loki. T'challa, of course, had lost absolutely not time in not only gathering mutants to him, but in gearing Wakanda up for war.

Much to Charles' neverending amusement, Roberto had located two fellow mutants in just a week's time. And if the report Charles had gotten was any indication, Roberto was going to end up leading the group despite thinking he wasn't right for the spot. There was a certain ... tone ... to the letter that Charles recognized from some of Scott's earliest notes about the X-Men team. A sort of exasperated irritation and a sense of 'if you want something done right, do it yourself' that had seen Scott half-leading training even before he'd had the visor to control his optic blasts.

Charles had even gotten word from the twins and Lorna. As he had guessed, they had opted not to form a team. Most of those 'in the know' as to the three's paternity would have conniptions about them having a team, fearing the worst. Still, even just the three of them were formidable, and Lorna was stepping up her training with her powers. It was extremely unlikely she'd be a match for her father by the time Thanos arrived, but every little bit would help. They had also indicated that if a group could be found that wouldn't look at them askance, they'd be amenable to joining that team.

Charles was more than slightly tempted to recommend them to the Avengers. He sincerely doubted anyone on that team would hold their paternity against them, especially when the three of them had none of Erik's megalomania. That said, he had decided not to. The Avengers had quite enough on their plates, between forging the existing members into a cohesive team, coordinating with the Realms, dispensing justice to Sergeant Barnes' tormentors, and, Charles strongly suspected, dealing with the political storm that was brewing.

Because a political storm was definitely brewing. The UK was, rather predictably, being one of the sensible ones. They'd immediately begun to mobilize in the wake of the invasion. Someone in their government had (rightly) seen the invasion as a test for both sides prior to the full engagement.

The US, while less coordinated and unified in purpose, was also mobilizing. There were a few folks in high government positions squawking about preparing to fight aliens rather than attempting diplomacy, but they were largely being shouted down by the rest of the government and the entirety of the military complex.

Canada seemed to be following the lead of the UK and USA, though somewhat lackadaisically thus far. In fact, most of the Commonwealth was following the UK's lead and mobilizing.

The rest of the world? Not so much. Charles was not so connected to the governments of countries outside the Commonwealth and the USA, but it was easy enough to figure out who was gearing up and who wasn't. A few, Charles knew, might be gearing up, but not to defend the planet. No, a few folks were gearing up to take advantage of the situation one way or another.

Unfortunately, Charles didn't have the slightest idea how to light a fire under the governments who weren't gearing up for war. Most of them would stick their metaphorical fingers in their ears and chant 'la la la not listening' if approached by an American or someone with even the smallest connection to an American. Some of that lot, would, in point of fact, cheer an invader on, so long as they trashed the USA first. So most of the people Charles could think of to send a warning would get very short shrift.

Well, most. He had little doubt Tony could annoy them into preparing for war just to get rid of *him*, and those he couldn't annoy into compliance, Loki could likely convince. Still, that meant it would be a problem put on the Avengers' plate on top of everything else they'd be dealing with.

He didn't envy them the explanation that they'd preemptively agreed to things in the name of Earth and her defense with the other Realms. That was going to cause quite a kerfuffle. Charles honestly didn't know who'd scream the loudest - the USA unfriendly countries over Americans making deals for the planet, or the USA when they figured out the deals were made *for the planet* and not for the benefit of the USA alone. Both revelations promised to be highly entertaining.

Chapter Text

Loki and Tony (Alfheim Part 1)

(_)(_)(_)

The first thing Loki did the next morning, before everyone else save Thor was even fully awake, was put a spell on everyone - including Thor - to shield them from malicious magic.

King Salar would see it as beneath him to bespell Thor or the humans, but Loki absolutely did not trust any other elves to feel the same way. Not that they would use a spell that would actively damage them, but something that would irritate, annoy, or frighten? Definitely.

That such a thing would trouble Thor and the humans would only be half the fun for those of such a mind to do that. The other half of the fun would be in testing Loki. Quite a number of elves found it exceedingly insulting and vexing that Loki was so magically powerful as to be a match for, or even exceed, their own abilities.

Loki normally enjoyed such competition, but he was not in a mood to tolerate elves playing games with ... what in the name of the Norns did he even call them? His team? His ... friends? The one seemed too ... impersonal. The other, well. Loki was not sure he'd ever actually had friends to know to label someone as such. Though he was beginning to suspect that the Avengers did, indeed, fulfill the requirements.

As the spell would visibly flare if someone tried to put a spell on Thor or the humans, Loki added a twist to the spell on the humans.

Mages left, for lack of a better description, 'fingerprints' on whatever magic they wielded. Visually, this manifested as a mage's spellwork being a particular color or colors - something even those with no ability in magic could detect. Loki's spells, for instance, had a green and gold color scheme. There were other components that were only detectable to other sufficiently trained mages.

Loki, at a very young age, had learned how to mask his magical fingerprint, so as to muddy the waters as to the source of a magical prank. The twist he had applied this time, however, went one further than merely masking the source of a spell. It would make it look as if the magical protection he had placed had been generated by the humans of the group. It was too bad that everyone knew Thor had little to no magic of his own, or he'dve done the same for Thor.

Loki had chosen a white-blue for Tony. Despite the man's fondness for red and gold, the color of the arc reactor had seemed more ... appropriate. Steven got the red and gold, while Soldier got gold as a nod to his connection to Steven and silver-white as a nod to his unwilling role as the Soldier. They all three got suitable 'magical fingerprints'.

None of the humans noticed Loki applying the spell, not even Soldier, which pleased him greatly. Thor, being far more familiar with the feel of Loki's magic, shot him a raised-eyebrow look but surprisingly said nothing.

Thor's new sense of discretion and willingness to trust him, while delightful, was going to take a while for Loki to get used to.

The protective spell aside, there was literally nothing Loki could do for the trio of humans. They were going to have to deal with Salar and the other elves entirely on their own merits. Loki was more than a little curious how that was going to go. He knew Tony had a general plan in mind, but what, exactly, that was, and how he intended to play it out, Loki didn't have the foggiest notion.

Just to make things more interesting, after he'd woken up sufficiently, Tony dragged (metaphorically) Steven aside and the two of them disappeared behind closed doors for a good fifteen minutes. Loki was fairly sure that had been Tony letting Steve in on his plan. He'd have to at least let Steven in on some small part of it, that much Loki knew from experience after including Thor in some of his schemes when they'd been little. Given their similar difficulties with lying convincingly, Loki was relatively sure that Tony had told Steven only enough to allow him to act and react in a way beneficial to Tony's plans.

The transformation as they rode towards the Bifrost landing area was ... startling.

Loki had seen Tony in a number of moods at the Tower, and during the tour he'd been by turns as excited as a child and very open, personable, and relatively easygoing in a way that Loki suspected was foreign to Tony's nature. Though not quite so foreign as a lot of people doubtlessly believed.

Now, though, that was changing. The angle of his shoulders, his posture, the angle he was holding his head at ... all were shifting out of the relaxed stances he'd had the last few days and into something Loki was torn between calling arrogant and antagonistic. In all likelihood, both. Tony's eyes had also gone cold, hard, and calculating, and the rest of his expression was haughty.

Just from the body language and facial expression alone, Loki had a feeling he knew what Tony's plan was, beyond the general 'out-arrogant them' he'd mentioned when dealing with the elves had come up. Loki had the strong suspicion that Salar was about to meet his match. He was going to enjoy this.

The elves were more open about guarding their landing zone than anyone save Asgard (where all travelers were vetted and met by Heimdall). There were ten elves well back from the area, ready to start throwing spells if someone unwanted came through, at all times. Loki knew that an entire regiment stood ready at all times to respond to an unfriendly visitor.

Tony rode right up to the closest one, and since being on the horse put them about eye to eye, patted the elf on the cheek, then *pinched* it.

"Be a good little minion and tell Sal he's got visitors." Tony said.

Loki had to exert real effort not to choke on air. Great Norns. The utter *gall*. This was going to be even more entertaining than Loki had thought.

The elves looked like they didn't quite know what the heck to do, completely thrown by Tony's rather spectacular entrance. The one Tony had accosted looked particularly torn between punching Tony in the face and turning him into something exceedingly unfortunate.

"Well? Chop chop. I'm a very important man and I have better things to do than sit here trying to get people to do their jobs." Tony said, in the most snotty tone Loki had ever heard out of him.

To Loki's right, Steven was turning a rather remarkable shade of red, though whether that was from an effort not to laugh or yell, Loki was uncertain. Thor was even less successful at hiding his own reaction, looking nearly as stunned as the elves, but also extremely amused.

It took a few moments, but the accosted elf headed off. Which was ... not the way it went. The elves used magic to communicate long distance. Before Loki could think of a way to clue Tony in, Tony let out an extremely rude noise.

"I thought you said these guys had magic, Loki." Tony asked, actually turning his horse so he could face Loki. "I mean, I've seen what you can do. So ... that guy either has less magic than Thor over there or he thinks I'm stupid."

Ohhhhhhhh. Loki was deeply grateful he'd thought to protect Tony, because the looks he was getting were promising messy, lingering deaths. "Well, he *is* serving as a messenger boy, to alert their army if someone nasty comes through. So you might have a point about his magical abilities." Never let it be said that Loki was shy about adding fuel to the fire. "But I wouldn't put it past them to think you simple, either."

Tony huffed theatrically. "Well. If they're going to be that way ... "

At which point he dismounted, threw the suitcase armor he'd kept with him even after visiting Svartalfheim to the ground and let it wrap around him.

"I guess I'll just cut out the middle man. Ciao." And then he blasted off.

(_)(_)(_)

There was a trick to dealing with arrogant assholes. Tony had learned that at a young age. You either found a way to work around them (like Pepper had done for a year or so before Tony had stopped fighting her so hard), or you proved you were the bigger arrogant asshole and made them dance to your tune.

Since they didn't have the time to work around Salar, and Tony definitely didn't have the personality for it, Tony opted for what he knew best, and what had worked with (essentially) the entire US government and military complex.

Be the bigger arrogant asshole.

If he'd read things right, Loki would do something to make sure no one Imperio'd them or the like (hey, he'd use the Harry Potter spells until and unless it was proven to him they weren't possible). So that end of things wasn't a problem.

His biggest problem was actually going to be Steve. Who would probably throw a fit about Tony acting like an asshole. That, Tony could handle, but *not* if Captain Righteous did it in front of the elves. So the first thing he did once his brain was in gear was pull Steve aside.

"Look, Cap, I know we've been working together to deal with these people so far, but with the elves? I'm going to kind of need you to follow my lead."

Steve eyed him for a moment. "You have a plan in mind to deal with them and the arrogant thing."

Tony nodded. "Yep. I don't really think your earnest, honest and humble thing will do the trick."

Which had earned him a flat, scowly look from Steve. Which just made Tony grin. Which got him an exasperated eye-roll. And really, it was entirely too tempting to twit Steve and get more reactions along that vein.

So Tony liked having an excuse to let his inner asshole rip. People could deal.

The brief tussle with the guards at the landing zone had been enough to tell Tony that if anything, Loki had understated the arrogance thing.

The flight was informative. Alfheim was really kind of ridiculously pretty. Very forested compared to the others so far. He spotted a few small villages, or, more likely, army outposts, given how close they were to the Bifrost landing zone, as he flew.

Finding the capital city was ridiculously easy. It was situated on the edge of a pretty tall cliff, and was all tall spires and weird angles that made his inner architect shriek like an insane cat about structural supports, load bearing weights, and other fun things.

He had to dodge a few spells, pretty, sparkly streaks of color that shot up towards him.

"Awww, aren't you people adorable. Pretty sparkly princesses." He said, making sure the exterior speakers were on and broadcasting. "Let me show you how it's done."

And he opened up with every flare and chaff round the suitcase suit had (which was a lot. He'd loaded up on them especially for this before they'd left Earth). None of it would do any damage whatever, but it would make for a heck of a bright show. Which was half the point. That it would at least superficially bear a resemblance to spellcasting was the other half of the point. It wouldn't fool them for long, but it would put them on the back foot long enough for Tony to get some serious momentum going.

While they were spazzing about that, he landed. Unsurprisingly, by the time the suit had folded away, he had an audience.

Including Lucius Fucking Malfoy.

No. Seriously. It really was, or as close as made no nevermind. White-blonde hair, pale blue eyes, aristocratic features. Nose in the air, haughty expression and fancy-ass clothes. God help him, the guy even had a fucking pimp cane, though sadly it didn't have a snake head on it. And let's not forget the fancy, filigreed, jewel-encrusted crown on the guy's head.

So. This was Salar. Tony was very hard put not to laugh his ass off at the guy.

"Sal! I guess that minion I sent to let you know I was here didn't get here ahead of me. Good help is so hard to find, am I right? Well, I'm sure you'll get them whipped into shape eventually. Though I kind of liked that sparkly greeting I got. Very pretty."

Salar looked like he was about ready to chew metal and spew out bullets. Tony just forged ahead, literally as well as metaphorically, and slapped the guy on the arm. "C'mon, Sal. We got a lot to talk about. Bad guys to kill, Realms to save, you know how it is. Busy, busy, always busy. So let's get some eats, some booze, and get this party started, whaddaya say?"

And then, with the sort of timing that was frankly suspicious as hell, Loki and the others popped in, a few of the Dark Elf guards with them as escort.

"Ahh, excellent. The rest of my retinue has arrived." Tony said, then waved towards them negligently. "You know Thor and Loki already. The other two hardly matter. Secretary and security. You know how it is. The missus insisted. I keep telling her I can kick plenty of ass all on my lonesome, but she worries. It's best to let her have her way. She nags something awful otherwise. You get into one little incident that overthrows a couple of governments and you never hear the end of it."

Chapter Text

Tony and Loki (Alfheim Part 2)

(_)(_)(_)

Tony slung an arm around Salar's waist. He'dve preferred the shoulder, but that was rarely an option. Fucking freakishly tall people. Still, he had long practice in making this work.

"Bring the bags, would you?" He tossed over his shoulder in Steve's general direction, but if he befuddled one of the elves into doing it, so much the better. "Sal and I have important things to talk about."

Then he focused on the group around Salar, and waved at the one closest to them. "Be a good little minion and fetch us some food and wine, yeah?"

Then Tony shifted his weight and more or less forced Salar into moving. There were benefits to being short, sometimes. Put him in a good position to shove the long, lanky sorts out of their center of balance fairly easily.

Especially when they were too busy staring at him in confusion to really protest his antics. And once he actually got them moving, nine times out of ten they didn't say a damn thing about it because it made them look like an idiot. Whining about the little guy bullying you into moving always did.

"So, Sal. I can call you Sal, right? Us being buds and all that. Tell me you're further along than *them* Tony waved his free hand negligently, indicating the other Realms. "In gearing up. I swear, holding the hands of the Asgardians to get them moving might actually be necessary. You'd think a bunch of dumb-muscle warmongers would be happier to get their ass-kicker boots on, you know?"

Step two in out-assholing a fellow asshole. Give them a better target than your own back. Something you apparently dislike too. A common target. And with the Asgardians apparently the next-lowest man on the magical lineup after humans, Tony figured they were a good bet. Elves probably bitched about Asgardians the way most humans bitched about bugs.

Besides, Odin was *totally* a legitimate target for every bit of assholery that got aimed his way and a good sized chunk of Asgard wasn't too much better. Frigga was a class act, but she wasn't actually Asgardian. Speaking of.

"Don't get me wrong. It's gotten better since Queen Frigga kicked that idiot to the curb. That woman has a grain of sense in her head." Tony said. "But then, that kind of figures. She's not Asgardian. So of course she's got sense. The rest of them ... " Tony gave a disappointed headshake. "Less sense than a half-trained horse, the lot of them."

Bwahaha. There went Salar finding his feet. Tony could almost literally see the moment when Salar went from 'what the ever loving fuck is going on here?' to 'aha, suddenly the world is making sense again. Something I can bitch about!'

"I have always found Asgardians lacking in many departments, but I confess myself startled to find them reluctant to do battle."

"I know, right?" Tony said, mentally apologizing to Thor for trash-talking his people. "Bad enough they only have the one use, but to not want to be useful at all?" Tony made a rude noise, and now that he had Salar engaged in both walking and talking, let go of him.

Sure enough, Salar kept moving.

Tony fought down the smug grin.

Worked every goddamned time. Now he just had to keep Salar off-balance enough to keep going with the flow and not *thinking*.

Thinking led to going on the offensive. Couldn't have that. A yelling match might be fun, but there wasn't *time* for those sorts of pissing matches. The faster he got Salar just confusedly nodding his head and agreeing, the better.

"So anyway, Sal, I'm figuring you've got everybody armored up and ready to roll, am I right? I figure we can have you and your boys come to Earth first. I mean, usually you save the best for last, but this? I'm thinking the best are going to want to get a good look at things before the idiots and incompetents trample all over everything."

Besides, if he got Salar and his group on Earth quick enough, Salar wouldn't have had time to realize just how badly he'd been bulldozed yet.

"I mean, for god's sake, we're going to have *Nidavellir* running around. It's going to be a mess, I tell you. But what can you do? I mean, we humans can probably kick Big, Purple and Ugly's ass all on our lonesome, but everyone's insisting on being 'helpful'." Tony put as much scorn as he possibly could on that last word. "And I suppose being able to punch hard is a bit of a help, but really now. I'd much rather a more elegant solution. Loki's schtick is much more my speed, and I figure you guys are even better than he is."

Which, hah to that. Even if some of these assholes were more magically powerful, Loki was still a thousand times better than they'd ever be because the guy had a fucking brain in his head.

About then, they got to what looked like a dining hall. Tony did a mental victory dance. Score! He'd managed to get Salar off balance enough that he'd gone with the 'food and drink' thing rather than a formal meeting in the throne room, which was probably more normal for these bozos than chatting about strategy over a meal. Excellent.

And that's when there was a scary moment, because it was like seeing the dining room kicked Salar's brain back into full gear. The look Tony got was mostly 'I am going to kill you slowly' for several long moments before something like amused condescension took over.

While on the one hand Tony was breathing a mental sigh of relief the guy had decided not to fry him, that latter look ... yeah. No. He wasn't letting that stand. Because that was the sort of look you gave a pet when it did something halfway entertaining or clever.

Before he could open his mouth, there was another sparkly flash of light. Tony had just enough time to note (and be amused by) the Pepto-Bismol pink color before he instinctively dodged. Unfortunately, whatever it was, it apparently had a homing beacon on it, because it swerved with him and smacked ...

Well, not into him, that was for damn sure. About three inches in front of him, the pink spell collided with ... well, whatever spell Loki put in place, because like hell did that have anything to do with him. Everything got washed out in a white-blue glare.

Then shit got weird. Because Tony felt a buzzing vibration, centered straight in his arc reactor (and no, that didn't freak him the fuck out *at all*), and he was not only tasting but smelling that weird coconut-and-metal thing that had eventually become so much background noise after he'd gotten used to the new element in the reactor.

Then there was a flare of blue-white light that shot out and knocked about five people on their asses.

When Tony's field of vision finally cleared, everyone was looking rather startled.

Everyone. Including Loki.

Which meant that some or all of that little show had not been his doing. Which, what the fuck? No, you know what, he'd deal with that later. Time to get back on the offensive.

"Like I said." Tony said, giving Salar a flat stare. "You get in one incident that causes the collapse of a few governments, and they never let you forget it."

Salar got that bit between his teeth and visibly ran with it.

The best part is that it wasn't even all that ... wrong. Tony had definitely destabilized a few governments in Asia Minor during his rampage against the Ten Rings. And he'd played a part (however minor) in the sequence of events that had led to Frigga giving Odin the boot.

And he *definitely* wasn't opposed to actively kicking Sal to the curb if he got stubborn. And if Salar automatically assumed it would be a magical ass-kicking, that was his own prejudices at work.

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was having to work to keep from laughing. Watching Tony at work was ... truly amusing. He was sorry he'd missed a bit of Tony's show before he convinced the elves to allow them to teleport to the castle.

Tony had no way of knowing this, but just the fact that Salar was permitting physical contact was telling. The elves were rather physically standoffish, even among themselves. That Tony not only got close enough to initiate physical contact but successfully initiated it meant he had really befuddled Salar.

Loki was fairly sure that about half the barbs aimed at Asgard were generated less because they'd be an acceptable target to the elves than because Tony was deeply, deeply annoyed with Asgardian intransigence.

Then some idiot tried to bespell Tony.

Leave it to that man to perform the impossible.

The spell, as Loki had enacted it, was supposed to form a shield around the person and protect them from inimical spells. They would visibly flare when triggered. And that was supposed to be the end of it. So of course Tony somehow managed to go further, and somehow magically lash out in the direction of his would-be attacker.

Tony was not magical. Loki knew this. Those capable of magic, even untrained, had a certain resonance to the senses of a trained mage. Tony had never had such a thing. So how in the name of all that was holy had he managed to *change* a spell set by himself? With no false modesty or pride, Loki knew himself to be quite powerful. Most mages would struggle just to end a spell enacted by himself. Changing it would be all but impossible. Changing a pre-existing spell called for a lot more energy than ending it. Because you were changing the magic's purpose, not convincing it its purpose was fulfilled. Magic wasn't sapient. It wasn't quite sentient, either, but it had enough awareness, especially in the hands of an experienced wielder (power levels had nothing to do with it, but knowing what you were doing most assuredly did) to be capable of doing things like discerning ill intent.

Tony should be wholly incapable of doing *anything* magically speaking, never mind this.

But now that Loki was paying close attention (his occasionally damnable curiosity at work) he realized there *was* something about Tony. He could only assume that, the situation being what it was, he'd been too ... distracted ... to notice. Which was nearly criminal.

Because there was magic emanating from Tony. Just ... not the resonance of a would-be magical. It was something vaguely familiar, and centered in Tony's chest. And then the light turned on for Loki.

Oh. OH. The arc reactor. Barton had mentioned (during his unwilling debrief as a mind-controlled minion. Loki was going to have to do something about making amends there) that Tony had changed how the arc reactor worked at one point. Something about something his father had discovered. Barton had not had details, just the pieced-together bits of overheard gossip combined with known events.

At any rate, whatever ran Tony's arc reactor had something to do with something his father had been working on. His father, who had worked with Steven. Both of whom had had contact either with the Tesseract itself or with the energy it produced. And the Tesseract, as were all the Kingmakers and Power Items, was highly magical.

It was therefore not beyond the realm of possibility that Tony's father had somehow discovered a way to ... to *synthesize* magic. Or something close enough to it to work very much like it, at any rate. Perhaps his decision to use blue-white as Tony's fake magical signature in reference to the arc reactor had been more appropriate than he'd first thought.

It did not completely answer for how the spell had been thrown back at it's caster, but it was enough of a theory to be going on with. Loki fully intended to investigate the phenomenon properly later. But not much later. If there were going to be odd and unpredictable effects to magical spells around Tony, he needed to know what those would be as soon as possible.

As startling as the incident had been, it did have the effect of garnering Salar's full attention. Pathetically predictable, but useful.

Especially since Tony noticed and instantly started taking full advantage. After that last little comment, Tony gave Salar a toothy grin.

"So, what say we get down to business, shall we? I think you and I have all sorts of things to talk about."

Salar quirked an eyebrow at Tony, apparently finally on enough of an even keel to respond to Tony's assault. "You seem to be under the misapprehension that you have anything to offer us as allies."

Tony barked a laugh. "You think I want your arrogant ass as an ally, Sal? No. Not hardly. You lot think magic is the answer to everything, which makes you stupid as hell in my books. But if you're so sure you can hold off Thanos and tens of millions of Chitauri all by your lonesome, be my guest."

And there, Tony had Salar over a barrel ... and they both knew it. The elves had absolutely no hope of standing against Thanos if the rest of the Realms fell. It was either throw their lot in with everyone else and hope like hell it would be enough ... or do nothing and the odds of dying shot a good deal higher.

"So, we don't have to like each other. At all. But the whole not dying thing? Means we deal with each other. Which means you getting the hell over yourselves." Tony pointed a finger at Salar. "When this is over you can come home and pout about how mean we all were and how rude it was that we didn't recognize your epic pretty princess-ness."

Chapter Text

Tony (Alfheim Part 3)

(_)(_)(_)

There was a certain joy Tony found in winning against his fellow assholes. And the bigger an asshole they were, the better he liked it.

Kicking Senator Stern's butt to the curb and outmaneuvering an entire Senate committee? Had pretty much made his year. Bitchslapping Hammer? He'd do that every day of the week and never tire of it, the smarmy asshole. Kicking Salar in the chops was proving to be every bit as fun as ruining Stern's fun.

"So. Here's the thing, Sal. This is a *fight*. And from what I've been told, you, princess, don't like getting your hands dirty. So I'm actually thinking even talking to you is a waste of time. I'm thinking I actually need to talk to whoever the big kahuna of the Dark Elves is." Tony said, ignoring Salar's enraged bristling.

Tony then turned a circle, glancing around the elves gathered around them. Lots and lots of blonde hair and fair skin, but he spotted a few folks lurking in the back that couldn't be anything other than Dark Elves. One of them was a real standout.

Mostly for the fact that he was, quite literally, black. Hair, skin, and eyes were all pitch, matte black. If it hadn't been for the whites of the guy's (girls'? It was hard to tell, they all had fairly long hair and were all on the lean side, no big busts anywhere to be seen) eyes, Tony wouldn't have known where his eyes even *were*.

The fact that the guy was one of about five Dark Elves in the room made it pretty clear he was either important as hell or a servant. Arguing *against* the servant position was what looked like leather armor.

Seriously. Leather. What the fuck. But then again, these guys apparently didn't, you know, punch each other or even knife each other all that much, so leather armor was probably all they needed.

And this? This was part two of Tony's offensive. Because Loki and Thor had made it pretty clear that the Light elves and the Dark elves didn't much like each other. So. Diss the hell out of the light elf leader, get him chasing his tail, and earn a few brownie points with the guy they'd *actually* be working with along the way. Which would hopefully curtail a little bit of *his* assholery before Tony had a go at him, too.

Tony grinned toothily and all but bounced over to the guy. "So. I'm guessing here, but I'm thinking that, at worst, you're part of the army. Which means you can introduce me to whoever leads you guys, if you're not him. But I'm thinking you *are* him. Because I don't think that lot." He flapped a hand in the direction of the Light elves. "Would want random Dark Elves running around in armor in *their* palace, am I right?"

That got him an amused snort. "I am Kavlos, and yes, I lead the elf army."

Tony blinked, because this guy's voice sounded like it was coming from the subbasement underneath three or four other subbasements. He was pretty sure the guy was actually managing to produce tones below the normal human level of hearing.

"So, I'm thinking you and I should get the hell out of this dog and pony show, and go do some real work, whaddaya say?" Tony asked after a moment.

Kavlos cocked his head, and it was hard to tell thanks to the monochrome coloring he had going on, but Tony was fairly sure the humor had an edge of condescension to it, but he could work with that.

"That would be wise." Kavlos rumbled.

And, completely ignoring a by-then indignantly sputtering Salar (seriously, if the guy got any more like Lucius Malfoy, Tony was going to start calling him that, Salar not understanding the gibe be damned), the two of them headed out, trailed by the other four members of the group doing the tour. Loki was openly grinning and, unless Tony misheard on the way past him, snickering quietly. Thor and Steve looked like they didn't know whether to be amused or worried. Soldier had a faint bit of amusement about him, but was otherwise blank-faced by the time Tony got a good look at him.

Kavlos led them out of the palace and to a surprisingly squat, square building close by, but half hidden among trees. It was the only building in the vicinity that didn't make his inner architect shriek. This, it very quickly became obvious, was an army barracks, as they were greeted by a roomful of Dark Elves. The whole building seemed to be one room, split into four areas - a mess hall, a training area, a sleeping area (with three-level bunk beds), and an area to just kick back and relax when not training. Tony assumed there were bathrooms hiding somewhere too, but he couldn't see a door to such an area from the front door.

"Jesus. Do they ever let you out of here?" Tony blurted out. Because the whole thing was utilitarian and depressing as hell.

"For unit training exercises." Kavlos rumbled. "And for our guard shifts."

Yech. Also, yeesh. These people. They hurt Tony's brain. He was actually surprised they hadn't stuck to two separate governments or something.

"Come. There is much to discuss." Kavlos rumbled, and led the way to the training area. Immediately, the folks who'd been using it either cleared out or stopped what they were doing and congregated around Kavlos, Tony, and the rest of the group.

"Show us your world, human. If we are to aid in defending it, we need to know it." Kavlos rumbled.

A bit on the arrogant side, but a valid point. Tony plunked the suitcase suit down on the ground and kicked it into action in inspection mode. A few quick pokes and the helmet's eyeslits projected one of a series of images of Earth. No holographic stuff, just actual pictures. If he had full access to Jarvis, he could do the holographic stuff, but the computing power Jarvis had access to in the suit out here wasn't enough for holograms.

Much to Tony's amusement, either Kavlos was a fuckton more tolerant than Salar, or he was assuming that what Tony was doing was magic. Tony wasn't about to ask to clarify which it was.

"Right, so. This is part of Earth. I've got a bunch of pictures to give you an overview with, and if you're game you can actually come to Earth at some point before Thanos shows up to see it all firsthand."

"That will be up to King Salar." Kavlos said, his tone making it clear he didn't think Salar would ok such a trip.

Tony snorted a laugh. "Yeah, no. Unless I missed something, you aren't a slave. Which means you can do what you want. So if you want to come to Earth to check shit out, you can."

Kavlos did a weird little twitch that Tony decided to assume was agreement.

"Anyway." Tony said. "Earth has seven continents and a lot of islands. Most of which are inhabited. Our population is around seven billion."

And admitting to that never got old, because it never failed to shock the hell out of the other Realm residents. Understandable, when not a one of them had a population measured at even one billion, never mind seven. Kavlos was no exception to the shock reaction, his eyes going wide enough a ring of white was visible all the way around the iris.

"At any rate, I'm thinking." Tony said. Well, it had actually been Steve's idea, but Tony was still trying to keep him and Soldier out of the line of potential fire, so ... yeah. "Of putting you guys on the islands. You lot can teleport around, which would allow you to island-hop a lot easier than any of the other groups, to back each other up if you need it, and to get to whichever island's getting attacked fast. Most of the Nidavellir contingent's going to be here." Tony pointed to Asia. "The dwarves space-side, of course, and Tharginn will be leading that front of the fight. The others will be scattered all over the other big landmasses in fighting units, paired up with Earth units."

Kavlos studied the images as they cycled through. "Leaving the islands vulnerable, thanks to the travel time required for those with no magic."

And yep, there went the condescension. But in this particular case, warranted. Without teleportation, island hopping would get very time consuming very fast, slowing defense of the islands to a crawl and costing a shit-ton of lives in the process.

"Something like that." Tony agreed. "Given the guess at numbers that Heimdall has managed, we're suspecting Thanos will try to blanket the planet with Chitauri. No idea how good a general he is, but if he's at all clever, he'll be able to pull it off. The space fleet will only be able to do so much to keep him and the Chitauri out, even if they all of them camp out just out of our atmosphere."

Even with the dwarves' considerable fleet, there weren't enough ships to cover the planet effectively even at that short range. It'd be all too easy for Thanos to get a bunch of ships congregated in one spot, and then slip a bunch of his forces through the gaps such a concentration would provide. If the fleet tried to meet Thanos further away from Earth (which Tony was betting they would) it would be even worse.

"And Heimdall's guess as to numbers?" Kavlos asked.

"Pretty fucking vague, but he does have a legitimate excuse. Not like these assholes are marching in ranks or something." Tony said. "But we're looking at tens of millions at least. Very possibly into the hundreds of millions. Lots of those big-ass, fanged flying things, whatever they're called. And a horde of three-man sleds."

Kavlos makes a disparaging noise. "The proper spells will give us a far more accurate count than that."

At which point *Loki* makes an extremely rude noise, which made Tony blink, then grin.

"I think that's Loki calling bullshit on that." Tony said, grinning. "And if he can't do something like that, I don't think anyone can."

"Spells exist to count the size of an enemy's army." Loki said. "But the army in question must be relatively still, staying in one spot for roughly five minutes for them to work."

"Which means, with Thanos' army on the move, they're useless." Tony said.

"Precisely." Loki said.

Tony shot Kavlos a look. "Word to the wise, Kavlos. Don't try to play a player. It just never works out. You get called on the carpet every damn time and made to look like an idiot. Nobody needs that."

And this? Was part three in handling assholes. Completely dominate one of them, then remind the rest that if they don't stay in line, that humiliation can be theirs. Most assholes don't like being made a fool of, so they tend to shut the hell up and play nice, at least long enough to try to reverse the situation. Which meant you had to stay one step ahead of the assholes, but Tony liked that part of the program.

And Kavlos? Well, he was an asshole, but a far more practical and pragmatic breed than Salar, evidently. Still had a tendency to look down his nose at non-magicals, but was willing to work with them. At least for this, anyway.

"So. The main question here is how the teleport thing works. I mean, Loki's explained his version." Sort of. In terms that made Tony cringe because seriously, he was a scientist, he needed more to go on than what amounts to 'it works the way I want it to work'.

And he was NOT THINKING about that whole ... thing ... back in the dining room, with his arc. Seriously. He'd freak out later, and possibly pull Loki's hair out by the roots trying to get answers. So he'd have to climb something to do that, so what? It'd probably just amuse the hell out of Loki. Not like Tony could really hurt him. Seriously, Thor had taken Steve's shield to the skull during their squabble in the woods and had barely blinked. Tony didn't think anything he did without the aid of the suit would actually hurt either Thor or Loki.

"But that doesn't mean your version works the same way." Tony finished.

"In this case, they do." Kavlos said. "Queen Frigga begged ... "

Tony didn't let him get any further than that. Mostly because he was pretty sure that both Thor and Loki would roast Kavlos' ass if he kept going. They were both of them mamma's boys. Not that Tony blamed them *at all* for that, but yeah. Badmouthing their mamma was a quick way to a hurting.

"Dude. Seriously. Don't even *try* that. Queen Frigga is too badass to have begged for a damn thing in her entire life, and if you're any kind of smart, you will apologize for even starting to say that in front of *her sons*. Seriously - do not be a douchebag." Tony told Kavlos.

Kavlos eyed him, then glanced behind Tony. Thor and Loki must have been looking ten shades of pissed off because the guy actually paled a little. He didn't apologize, but he did, when he opened his mouth again, correct what he'd started to say, which Tony figured was about as good as they were going to get.

"Queen Frigga sought an elf tutor for Loki in his youth, having been tutored by one of us herself during her own youth. Her own magic is strongest in the healing arts, rather than combat, and while teleportation is not explicitly for combat, it is not specifically healing related either, so she had - has - a limited range with it."

Tony turned to look at Loki. Who was still giving Kavlos the stink-eye for dissing Frigga. "Dude. How the hell did you not fry these people? Because I kind of wanted to fry Salar on *sight*."

That got him a laugh. "The tutor was forced to come to Asgard." Loki said. "They are somewhat less full of themselves when they are alone and surrounded by members of the other Realms who would be all too happy to 'fry' them, one way or another. As for after that ... well. Most of them know better than to trifle with me past a certain point. I find most of their attempts to best me amusing, I will admit, but past a certain point ... "

"Frying them becomes an option." Tony said.

"Yes."

"Ok, anyway. If your teleporting works the way Loki's does, you really only need to know the name of the place you're going." Tony gave an amused snort. "I hope you have a good memory for names, because there's a *lot*."

Chapter Text

Steve (Vanaheim)

(_)(_)(_)

Steve breathed a not-so-discrete sigh of relief when they managed to get out of Alfheim in one piece. He'd spent the entire day torn between being thoroughly amused at Tony steam rolling over everyone in sight and worried Tony would get himself killed antagonizing everyone. He'd honestly been surprised when Tony's gambit had worked.

Well, for a value of 'worked'. According to both Thor and Loki, anything even remotely resembling an equal partnership with the elves just wasn't going to happen by playing nice, thanks to their snobbery regarding magic. It went against Steve's grain to basically bully them into playing nicely, but with the situation they were facing, and the fact being nice wasn't going to work, well. He might not like it but he was pragmatic enough to use whatever worked.

Trusting Tony to handle the elves had been risky, but Tony had been right - Steve's usual way of handling people just wouldn't have worked. Now, though, it was his turn again, as they were headed to Vanaheim.

Which was a heck of a lot friendlier in general than the elves, and would be a lot friendlier to them in particular because of Frigga.

And boy, what a change it was, when they arrived. A guy that reminded Steve strongly of Tyr (who, himself, looked enough like an older Thor to pass as Thor's brother) was waiting for them, dressed in an outfit surprisingly similar to Tharginn's. That was, far more practical than ceremonial, what was basically a T-shirt under a breastplate, jeans and boots. He was waiting for them just beyond the landing zone - alone (except for the horse off to one side) - when the Bifrost receded, and promptly hugged the stuffing out of Thor and Loki both.

Steve nearly laughed at the tolerant eye-roll the exuberant greeting got from Loki. Thor, on the other hand, hugged right back with every evidence of enthusiasm.

"Nephews! It has been far too long since last you visited our fair Realm!" The man scolded with a smile. "And you bring new friends with you!"

So, this was evidently Palthor. Or maybe Frigga's other brother (who hadn't been named), but Steve suspected Palthor. They'd been told he was a lot like Thor, but good grief.

"It is good to see you again, Uncle." Thor said, grinning ear to ear. "These are Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Soldier from Earth."

"Soldier?" The guy asked, frowning slightly, more in confusion than displeasure. Then the expression cleared to one of understanding, and compassion. "Oh! Yes, Frigga mentioned him when she visited a few days past. Something about being captured and twisted into knots by an enemy, and amnesia?"

"Yes." Thor said.

"Hmmm. Well, if anyone can get him put to rights, it's your mother and Eir. Those two are a little scary on the healing front." Then the guy focused on the three of them. "And please, forgive me my bad manners, but it's been the best part of a century since I last saw these two. I am King Palthor, but please, do me the favor of dispensing with the formality, and just call me Palthor. Come, you can meet my wife, we'll get you fed, then do some talking, yes? The sooner we get how to deal with Thanos figured out the better."

"Agreed, sir." Steve couldn't quite call the man just by his name. It went against the grain. Even if you thought someone with rank (military or otherwise) was full of utter shit (and Steve had felt that way a *lot* in his life) you still damn well respected their rank *somehow*. Even when they told you to cut it out with the titles. His mom would come back from the dead and kick his ass if he didn't at least 'sir' and 'ma'am' folks.

Palthor gave him an amused look, like he knew what Steve was thinking. Steve wouldn't put it past him.

Palthor headed for his horse, and they rode to the capital city. Palthor kept up an easygoing conversation the whole way, telling them all sorts of things about Vanaheim. And about Thor and Loki and a few of their ... youthful foibles, Steve supposed they'd be called. Stunts they'd pulled as little kids on visits to Vanaheim, anyway.

Steve noticed a theme to the stories, though. They all poked a bit of good-natured fun at *Thor*, not Loki. Steve had a feeling that was deliberate. Frigga was bound to have told her own brother what Loki had been through in the last year or so. Palthor seemed to genuinely like Loki, so Steve was betting the man had decided to go easy on Loki for a while. Which is about the only concession to his trauma that Loki's been willing to accept thus far.

They're met at the palace door by a woman that reminds Steve more than a little of Darcy. Taller than Darcy by a good six inches or so, but with the same sort of generous curves and long, dark brown hair with a dusting of gray in it. She greeted Palthor warmly. Very warmly. Warmly enough to make Steve blush.

Well, at least they were clearly still very much in love?

Beside him, Tony was grinning and snickering at him. "We have got to work on that blushing thing, Cap. You look like a tomato." He said, surprisingly quietly.

Steve snorted at him, but didn't say anything. The odds of him not blushing weren't good. At least not right now. He knew better than to say as much to Tony, though, because the man'd take it as a challenge to wear the blush right out of Steve with all sorts of scandalous and/or embarrassing things. Worse, he'd try to get the rest of the gang to help him and Steve wasn't going to bet on just how many of them would join Tony in his efforts. If there was one thing he'd learned with the Commandos, it was to never, ever present yourself as a legitimate target for poking fun or pranks or anything of that sort.

When the couple finally came up for air (VERY warm welcome, Steve thought, and blushed a second time), Palthor wrapped an arm around his wife. "This is Wenila, my Queen." And the way he said that, he didn't quite mean 'my wife', nor 'the woman who is queen' so much as 'this is the woman who is queen of my life'. "Wenila, these are Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Soldier, from Earth."

Wenila smiled at them. "It's wonderful to meet you." She said.

Steve was fully prepared to swear she looked like she wanted to hug them, but was restraining herself. Thor and Loki weren't quite so lucky, and came in for another pair of hugs. Just like with Palthor, Loki tolerated the affection while Thor welcomed it and returned it in full measure.

"Now, boys, we've a good meal set out. Frigga told us you'dve visited most of the other Realms by now, and been subjected to who knows what in the way of cuisine, so we figured you'd be in the mood for something a bit more familiar." Wenila said. "Then once lunch is over, we can talk business."

And then she herded the lot of them into the palace and from there to the kitchens with the sort of efficiency Steve had at one point associated with moms but had since learned was a rather common trait even in women who didn't have children. Peggy, Pepper, and Darcy being cases in point. Heck, all the women in the Tower had it to one degree or another.

Lunch proved to be recognizable even to Steve. Sandwiches. Granted, the meats and condiments were different, but still. Very familiar.

At least Bucky was getting a little better about eating and drinking. He still had to be given permission, but one blanket permission per meal was all he needed to eat and drink a reasonable amount. Steve wasn't sure if he was eating until he was full or not, but he at least wasn't starving himself either. There's also a virulently green fruit juice drink that tastes like a cross between cherries and watermelon, with maybe a dash of ginger thrown in. Weird as it gets, but not horrible.

It wasn't just them and the king and queen, either. There were roughly a dozen men and women who joined them, all of whom Steve assumed were actually members of the military or Palthos and Wenila's court. Better, a bunch of kids of varying ages bounced in and out, going to one adult or the other. It made it pretty clear that the Vanir were rather family oriented. Or at least a whole heck of a lot less formal than any of the other Realms, one of the two. Maybe even both.

Lunch away, Palthor sat forward.

"Now, Asgard may have stopped hanging about Earth for a thousand years or so, but we made it a policy a long time ago to keep an eye on things, so we've had one of our folks who can walk the secret paths, like Loki can do, pop in every few decades or so. So we're not quite so ... ignorant ... of your Realm as most of the others." Palthor chuckled. "That doesn't mean we understand all of what was seen and reported, but we at least have an idea of how things have changed and a vague idea of what you Midgardians are capable of."

"The last time someone popped in was ... " Palthor paused, obviously trying to remember the timing. "Ahh! Yes, I remember now. It was the year after your United States managed to visit your moon. That event was still much talked about in your news when our 'walker' checked in. We were about due for another visit when all the ... " Palthor waved a hand. "Excitement hit. We got a little sidetracked and never sent anyone over. Probably for the best, now."

Palthor introduced everyone at the table, and Steve had been right. Mostly military folks, with a few healers thrown in. And, much to Steve's surprise, the head cook for the palace. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Palthor smiled.

"An army marches on its stomach." Palthor said. "We have a system very similar to Asgard's to supply our troops ... and those with them who are not from either Asgard or Vanaheim, as I do not believe any of the other Realms have such a system. But in order to do that, they will need a rough idea of numbers so they know how much to cook."

"Even if the Asgardian cooks do the same thing, it's going to be a *lot* of cooking, sir." Steve said. "Earth's armies, all told, number about as many people as you have in this realm total."

Palthor blinked. "Well, that's ... " He blinked again. "Well. We knew there were a lot of Midgardians, but to have that many just in your militaries? That's quite startling."

"Yeah, I know." Steve said. He still boggled at the seven billion population himself. "For the most part, they'll all be fine on the food front, but I guarantee they won't say no to a home-cooked meal rather than our version of travel food."

That got a laugh from Tony. "You can say that again. We don't have anything like your magical pouches, so we have to thoroughly preserve and tightly seal the food that we travel with. Which tends to not do good things for the taste, though we've gotten better on that over time."

Palthor looked thoroughly amused. "Well then, we'll make sure to have such available. Though there is hope this battle will be over swiftly enough to not necessitate eating on the battlefield."

"Yeah, that would be nice. Thanos shows up and we beat his ass in time for lunch? That would be awesome." Tony agreed.

Steve agreed with that idea too, even if he didn't think it'd really happen that way. It'd be nice if it did, but he seriously doubted it.

"Frigga did say that more advanced healing would be much welcome." Wenila said. "From what she's said, your healers have come quite a long ways, but some of our skills are yet beyond them."

Steve nodded. "And even if we were on a completely equal footing there, there are going to be a *lot* of wounded, so every pair of hands we can beg to get folks patched up will be needed." He nodded to the healers. "We can set some of you up at hospitals - our versions of infirmaries - to handle the civilian casualties, since I know the various Realm armies are all going to have their own healers on hand to deal with their own wounded. That and some folks to deal with Midgardians on the battlefield would be very welcome. I'm not sure what differences there are between us and your people, but we can get you in contact with some healers from Earth so you can compare notes."

The head healer nodded. "That would be appreciated."

Steve turned his attention back to Palthor. "We're also arranging for everyone to at least get a chance to take a look at Earth. I know you said you've had people visit off and on, so it's probably less of a concern for your people, but I'd still really like for at least everyone at this table to stop by so they can meet the folks they'll be working with. If at all possible, setting up some war games or something so everyone can get used to each other in a combat situation before we tangle with Thanos would be even better."

"A sensible suggestion." Palthor agreed. "And one I have no problem agreeing to."

All in all, it was really ... quite a nice visit. They spent the day ironing out as many details as they could. Vanaheim, like Asgard, would have its army spread out in various places, rather than all on one continent like the Nidavellir, or all in space, like the dwarves. That required a bit more planning to coordinate. But the general plan was definitely taking shape. All they could do now was hope it worked.

Steve was kind of glad they'd saved Vanaheim for next-to-last. Mostly because it gave Loki a ready excuse to ditch them, in favor of an aunt and uncle he hadn't seen in a hundred years. Not that Loki wouldn't have ditched them without such a convenient excuse, given where they were going next. This way, the ditching wasn't quite so painfully obvious, allowing Loki to have some shred of ... well, whatever it was he needed to keep himself together. Because tomorrow was their last stop on the Realm tour ... in Jotunheim.

That night, before bed, Tony corralled Soldier, with Thor and Loki's help. Steve, who knew what Tony was going to do, sat in front of Soldier.

"Ok, Soldier. The place we're going tomorrow is extremely cold. The sort of cold that can freeze you solid in a very short amount of time if you're not careful. Your arm is made of metal, and that is not going to do good things for you in those sorts of temperatures if it's just left as-is. We knew really cold temperatures would come up, even if we didn't know you'd be coming with us to Jotunheim, so we installed a heater in the arm, to warm the metal to a tolerable temperature and keep it there." Tony said. "The heater's behind the upper panel of your arm, and it will only take me about a minute to get it working."

Soldier let it happen with the sort of blank-faced, dead-still compliance he'd probably been forced into learning at the hands of his captors. It was enough to make Steve a little crazy, but the heater was necessary. Jotunheim apparently regularly dropped well below all but the sort of temperatures found in the Antarctic in the dead of winter. Even normal winter temperatures would do unfortunate things to a metal arm attached to flesh, if it wasn't properly dealt with. Steve didn't even want to know what sort of damage Jotunheim's cold could do. And he resolutely refused to think about the sort of damage the cryo had done, because that was even colder.

Chapter Text

Thor (Jotunheim)

(_)(_)(_)

Given how his last visit to the Realm turned out, Thor was understandably nervous about going to Jotunheim. He'd been a fool. The worst sort of fool imaginable, and the Jotuns had every right to, as his human companions said, 'kick his ass'. An odd, but fitting euphemism.

He didn't think there was a weregild big enough to pay penance for what he'd done here. The worst part was he had no idea how many Jotuns he'd killed for absolutely no reason whatever. Over an insult. A mild insult at that.

Norns, but he'd been an idiot. And for Thor, the worst part of it all was that he hadn't been the only one to pay for that mistake. He hadn't even been the primary one to pay. A few days powerless on Earth was hardly recompense for the damage he'd done. No, it had been Loki who had paid the price for his idiocy.

Thor didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for that.

Thor was sorely tempted to ask one of the others to carry Mjolnir in an attempt to appear as peaceful as he could, but he was unsure whether she would permit such or not. It was hardly an emergency. And there was a part of him that thought perhaps that was a cheat. He'd messed this up all on his own, he was going to have to fix it the same way.

They got no more than a dozen feet from the landing area when they were surrounded by at least twenty very irritated and angry looking Jotuns. Thor went very still and tried to look as innocuous as he possibly could, for whatever good that would do. Not much, in all likelihood.

"Why have you come?" One of them demanded, sounding angry.

"We've come to meet with Farbauti." Tony said, his tone surprisingly calm and conciliatory compared to the antagonism he'd displayed in Alfheim. "To speak of preparations for the coming of Thanos. And with a potential offer for your people."

The Jotun regarded the group with open suspicion for a minute or two, but finally grunted in reluctant-sounding acquiescence and turned to lead them to wherever it was they were to go.

Thor did not fail to notice that he was effectively surrounded, and that all the Jotuns in his vicinity had preemptively extended ice weapons on their persons. More than one of them were growling. Thor just did his best to look like he had no intentions whatever of getting violent and hoped it'd be enough. The last thing he wanted was for the humans to get caught in the Jotuns' grievance with him.

Bless Tony, he seemed very aware of the tense atmosphere, and turned his attention to the nearest Jotun.

"So ... what's your name?" Tony asked.

The Jotun blinked at Tony, and Thor fought down a grin at their confusion. Tony seemed to have that effect on people.

"I am Valdir." The Jotun replied. Then, in an apparent fit of their own curiosity. "I have never seen a Midgardian before. Are you all so ... different? That one is taller than you, and gold-haired. The other is tall as well, but dark haired like you."

"Yeah, Midgard's people - we call ourselves humans - are pretty different looking. Lots of different hair colors, eye colors, and skin colors."

"Skin colors? Like the Vanir and the Elves?" Valdir asked

"More like the Vanir than the Elves." Steve offered. "We don't have anyone with pure white or pure black skin. We're all closer to the Vanir in height, too, than the Elves."

Valdir went quiet at that point, their curiosity apparently satisfied. But the discussion, however brief, had cut some of the tension in the air, which was a relief. They had every reason to be antagonistic to Thor and he knew it but he didn't know how long he'dve been able to stand that constant air of impending violence with anything approaching equanimity.

They were led past the remains of what had once been their capital city but was now empty ruins. They had been so even before the events of a year past, which afforded Thor some small hope that few if any had died when the Bifrost had been focused here for a time. At any rate, they were led past the ruins of the capital city and to the mountains nearest. Specifically, to some caves at the base of the mountains.

Four of the Jotuns turned on Thor. "You." One of them snapped in a poisonous tone. "Will leave all weapons here. Especially *that*." The Jotun indicated Mjolnir. "Any hint of violence from you, any attempt to call that to you, and your life is forfeit."

Thor did not demure. Even if he'd wanted to, this was hardly the time. But he did not wish to demure. He simply, and silently, set Mjolnir down. She was the only weapon he had brought with him on the tour. For that matter, she was the only weapon he'd carried with any regularity since she had been gifted to him.

The moment he set it down, a third Jotun encased Mjolnir in roughly three feet of solid ice. Not that he had any intention of summoning her, but Thor doubted the ice would stop her if he did. It would, however, serve to warn anyone in the vicinity that he had summoned her, before she actually took off.

From there, they were led deeper into the cave system. Thor did not fail to notice the Jotun at his back, ice weapon at the ready. Steve and Tony both were casting uneasy looks behind them from time to time. Thor just gave his head a small shake each time, to reassure them.

Eventually, they were led into what looked to be a large communal gathering area with close to a hundred Jotuns within, all of them with ice weapons at the ready.

"Ok, whoah." Tony said. "Look. I know you guys have reason to be twitchy around Thor but can we ease off just a little? I feel like if *I* blink wrong, there's gonna be blood on the floor a second later."

The Jotun at the far end of the room - Thor had no idea if it was Farbauti or not, as he was unable to see their facial markings clearly at this distance - eyed Tony for a moment before nodding. "You have a point human." And they waved their hand.

About half the Jotuns in the room let their ice weapons dissipate. They were permitted closer then, and Thor realized it was, indeed, Farbauti who had addressed them.

Thor slowly and carefully drew even with Tony and Steve (Soldier had been lingering back by Thor, though to what aim Thor could not say), careful to stay as harmless looking as he could, even as both men shot him looks and most of the Jotuns in the room tensed.

Thor honestly didn't think it would do much, if any good, but he had to try. If this won him even a shred of tolerance from Farbauti, it would be worth it ultimately, for Loki's sake. Loki might not be ready to deal with his Jotun relatives anytime soon, but it would work a lot better if, when he did, said Jotun relatives didn't want to behead Thor on sight.

He dropped to one knee, and dropped his eyes to the floor. "I beg your forgiveness, Queen Farbauti. In my arrogance and intemperance a year past, I caused the death and injury of many of your people. Did I think a mere weregild could recompense such a loss, I would gladly pay it, but I know it cannot."

There was a long, fraught moment of silence, and then a blue-skinned hand reached out to touch his chin. Thor started to jerk away instinctively, fully expecting the same biting touch that had done such damage to Volstagg. He managed to abort the motion after a spastic twitch, as to his complete shock, the fingers were ... well, not warm, but certainly not freeze-skin-solid cold, either.

"You surprise me." Farbauti said. "And for a wonder, I suspect you are in earnest. Has the last year changed you so much, Asgardian?"

Thor grimaced a little. "Aye, it has." He said. "And in ways I did not think to expect, either."

Farbauti hummed slightly, then let his chin go. "We shall contemplate what amends can be made for the damage you have done, but the repayment must needs be delayed until the danger from Thanos is past. We can ill afford a warrior of your capabilities to be sidelined during that battle. Now, you may rise."

Thor got to his feet, fighting a happy grin that might be misinterpreted. That had gone ... much better than he'd thought it would. He'd fully expected for his attempt at an apology to be dismissed out of hand.

Steven gripped his arm and gave him a pleased look and nod. Tony, after a moment, took over the talking.

"Ok, here's the thing. According to Frigga, Jotunheim is ... not in good shape, and there isn't really any way to fix it. And the other Realms really ... don't have much of anywhere you can go."

Farbauti did not look happy about confirming that, but confirm it they did. "This is so."

"Well ... you'll have to talk if over with your own people, and we'd have to clear it with the governments of Earth, but we may have a solution. One of our continents, that we call Antarctica, is pretty much constantly under ice. Most of the continent never gets above freezing, either, even in mid summer. The coasts do, sometimes, but inland? No. It's even dark six months of the year. Though the other six it is admittedly a lot brighter than" Tony waved a hand at the sky hidden by the rock over their heads. "I think you guys might be used to, if what's out there is the norm for you. If both sides agreed, you could move and live there. There wouldn't even be all that many humans around to bother you, as we're not all that comfortable at such cold temperatures. There's all of about five thousand people on the continent during the warmest weather, and roughly a thousand during the coldest. And they wouldn't be wandering around much. They'd mostly all be in science research stations."

Farbauti blinked at Tony, and Thor fancied he could *see* the flare of hope, not just in her expression but in those of the other Jotuns in the room.

"You are in earnest?" Farbauti asked.

"Yeah. Like I said, there'd have to be some talking on both sides, but it's a possibility." Tony said. "And if that falls through, well, there are other things we can do to help, like trade your magical abilities for food, or something."

"Our magical abilities?" Farbauti asked.

"Yeah. Earth has some places that are pretty prone to really bad fires. We've got ways to get them under control, but I'm thinking your way might be a lot faster and a lot less dangerous." Tony said. "And that's just the most obvious option I can think of right off the bat."

"Hmm. That will definitely need talking over at a later time." Farbauti agreed. "In the meantime, let us discuss what is to be done about Thanos."

"Right." Steve said. "Our basic plan is to have your people spread out along the coastlines, where you'd have access to all the water you could possibly need, both for defense and for your own comfort. Whether they work solo or in teams or whatever will, of course, be up to you."

Farbauti nodded. "That is a solid plan, and will make the most of our abilities." She agreed. "I intend to send our remaining Battle Masters - those of us old enough to be capable of truly great magical feats in combat but still young enough to fight - as well as those that are beyond the prime of their fighting years, but can compensate for that loss with even greater magic."

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Steve said.

They talked over a few more things for a little while. Gradually, the Jotuns relaxed a little. Some of them still kept their ice weapons, but by the time the talking wrapped up, most of them had let their weapons dissipate. Thor decided to take that as a good sign.

Farbauti actually walked them towards the exit. When they were mostly alone, she glanced at the three of them.

"I would ask after the well being of our child."

Tony sighed. "He's still a mess, to be honest, your majesty." He admitted. "He'll get better eventually but right now, it's kind of a case of getting way, way too much dumped on his head way too fast."

Farbauti sighed. "If Loki begins to calm, and to show signs of accepting ... his ... heritage, let ... him ... know I would speak with ... him? There are things ... he ... will need to know."

"Will do." Tony said.

They were escorted to the Bifrost zone, and Tony heaved a sigh of relief. "Next stop, home." He said, with every sign of relish. "Not that this wasn't fun, but damn. I haven't done this much glad-handling this many days in a row in *years*. Also, you did good back there, Fabio."

Thor mock-glowered at the nickname, but before he could come up with something to say to it, Steven spoke up.

"Tony's right. You did good back there, Thor. I think your mom'll be proud of you when she finds out." Steve said.

Chapter Text

Tony

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was waiting for them when they got back to Asgard, giving Heimdall the sort of look that made Tony more than a little twitchy. Mostly because the look was just barely this side of homicidal. On one level, Tony didn't really blame Loki for that, because Heimdall had pulled some asshole stunts a year and a bit ago.

The first of which had *allowed* what ultimately happened to Loki. Because if Heimdall had done his fucking job and not allowed them on Jotunheim, none of the rest would have happened. Then the idiot went and made things worse. And Heimdall had never paid the price for, you know, disobeying his king. Either king, since the first time he'd fucked up he'd disobeyed Odin's orders, and the second time he'd fucked up Loki's.

On the other hand, that level of pissed-offness was worrying. Tony knew what *he* had done the last time he'd felt as pissed as Loki looked. Hell, the entire planet knew. The idea of what Loki would be capable of in that sort of mood was more than a little nervous-making.

They headed for Earth less than a minute after touching down on Asgard. Tony assumed the horses they'd been riding would be brought back to the stable somehow or other. He wasn't going to be the one to delay getting back to Earth by asking.

Tony put the suit on and everyone grouped themselves around Soldier. They didn't think he was going to go apeshit anymore. Not after the last week. But the possibility of the Tower being watched and someone trying to kill him or them was still there. So it paid to be a bit paranoid. As soon as they were in position, Heimdall sent them on their way.

"Welcome home, Sir." Jarvis piped up the moment they landed on the roof of the Tower.

Tony blinked. Ok, that tone out of Jarvis? Not good. "Good to be back, J." That much, he broadcast. On a private channel, he asked. "What's wrong, J? And go ahead and download the suit recordings. Prepare a highlights reel for tomorrow morning after breakfast for everybody, but send copies of the unedited files to Agent." Tony thought for a moment. "And Romanov. I dunno if her ability to read people will carry over to aliens, but it won't hurt to give her a gander."

He kind of wondered what it was like for Jarvis, to synch back up with/ reabsorb/ whatever the hell you wanted to call it the portion of himself that had been running the suit.

"Much has transpired in your absence, Sir." Jarvis said. While he didn't acknowledge the other orders, Tony knew he was following them without bothering to check. "I shall provide a full debrief shortly."

"I'll head straight for the lab." Tony promised before letting the suit fold down. Any longer than that in the suit and it would have drawn attention. Fortunately, the gods were with him, because Steve sort of sighed after the suit came off, and slumped.

"I think I'm heading for bed." Steve said, then hesitated. "After some recognizable food and a bath. I mean, the stuff from the other Realms was edible. A lot of it was even really good, but ... "

"You could really do with a cheeseburger about now?" Tony asked.

"Yeah." Steve said, then waved to Barnes. "C'mon. We can both get something to eat."

Soldier followed tamely after Steve. Watching that shit made Tony twitch all over again. "What about you two?" He asked their resident aliens.

"I shall visit with Jane." Thor decided.

Loki cocked his head to the side for a minute, eyeing Tony. "I believe I will head for the labs as well." He said. "Unless I miss my guess, you are headed there as well. I find myself quite curious as to the cause of that ... explosion on Alfheim."

Oh. Yeah. That. Tony had *almost* forgotten about that. The way you almost forget you've been shot. Which is to say not at all. He'd just been ignoring the elephant in the room for other things.

"That is definitely a plan." Tony said, pointing at him.

The three of them trooped to the lab level, with Thor splitting off to Jane and Erik's lab. Tony was kind of worried about Erik. The guy almost never came out of the lab or his rooms. Tony didn't know if he was having a harder time dealing with Loki being around than Clint was, if this was just normal for him, or what.

"Right, J. Track seven, half volume." Tony said the moment he and Loki walked into his lab. The music was less because Tony wanted to listen to it and more because it would provide a sound baffle that not even Thor would be able to hear around in addition to the sound proofing around the labs.

"Rudolph, we'll get to the magic weirdness in a minute." Tony said. "J, gimme a rundown. What's got your transistors in a knot?"

There was a half-second's silence that Tony knew was equal parts Jarvis sputtering at the insult and putting a report together.

"Widow Belova began to attempt escape a day after everyone left, Sir. And was eventually successful, though it took her a full twelve hours to overcome the security measures."

Uh huh. And it pissed Jarvis off that he hadn't been able to keep her contained, despite having been warned that her escaping was a foregone conclusion no matter *where* she got stashed.

"Jarvis, we talked about that. You knew she was gonna get free, buddy." Tony said.

"I was able to trace some of the names Agent Romanov gave me." Jarvis said.

And wow, that was not a subtle subject change *at all*. Definitely pissed off. Tony did not envy Belova if Jarvis ever got his metaphorical claws into her again at some point. He was definitely his father's son when it came to taking defeat gracefully. That said, both he and Loki perked up at that news.

Also? Jarvis' tone wasn't improving *at all* with the subject change. This ... was not going to be good. Tony sat down. "Hit me, Jarvis. What're we looking at here?"

"In a word, Sir? HYDRA."

Fuck. "Fuck." Fuckity fuck. "Shit. HYDRA as in HYDRA, HYDRA?" Tony asked. "As in the assholes Steve kicked in the 'nads back during the war?" The question was as much for Loki's benefit as it was him making absolutely sure he'd heard Jarvis right.

"Precisely, Sir. It would seem they did not shrivel and die without their leaders as most presumed. I have found evidence of HYDRA moles in most governments of the world, and most corporate and military concerns of any appreciable size."

Jesus fuck. Steve was going to *shit a brick*. Maybe an entire fucking *brick house*. Also, fuckity fuck.

"I do not think Steven will be pleased with this news." Loki said, in what had to be the understatement of the century.

"SI?" Tony asked. Because if there were moles in commercial concerns, SI would be an ideal place to have some.

"Miss Potts has thus far found two. Both mid-level managers that remained after weapons production was halted. I believe we may have shed most of the moles after that change." Jarvis reported.

That made sense. A lot of folks had had coronaries about the weapons shutdown and left. They'd been replaced almost faster than they'd left as SI was, even with the change in production, one of the best places to work on the planet. Part of Tony wanted to ask about Stane, but the rest of him decided that this once, ignorance was bliss.

"Triple check everyone that stayed." Tony said. "And then sic Natasha on them, just to be really sure."

"Of course, Sir. Everyone has been busy obtaining and collating data, in anticipation of Captain Rogers' likely reaction to the news, and we now have four HYDRA installations to investigate in person." Jarvis said.

Tony barked a really not amused at all laugh at that phrasing, because it was going to be more like 'Steve punching peoples' teeth down their throats' ... while the rest of them tried to keep him from killing every last one of them. Not that they didn't deserve it, but Steve wasn't the kind to be ok with wholesale slaughter. He might forget that in his desire to avenge Barnes. It'd be up to the rest of them to keep him on the straight and narrow if that happened.

"Doctors Banner, Ross, and Foster also put together a prototype blowgun, darts, and a homebrewed fast acting paralytic to prevent any captured agents from committing suicide. Doctor Banner indicated a desire for you to take a look at their prototype when you returned." Jarvis finished.

"Oh, smart call. I mean, you can always magic 'em." Tony said, waving at Loki. "But not even you can be everywhere at once. Yeah, I'll take a look at it. Is it in here, or their lab?" Tony asked.

"They left it one the second work table, Sir."

Tony turned towards the table to take a look. The prototype was exactly that - rough and basic but functional. Tony nearly laughed when he realized that someone - Foster, probably, since she had a DIY gene - had cannibalized a length of PVC pipe for the blowgun. And it looked like Barton had sacrificed some fletching off one of his arrows for the dart.

At least, Tony hoped he had. Because if one of his science sisters or brother had stolen the fletching, he was *not* getting between them and Barton's wrath when Barton found out. He wasn't stupid.

The dart's injection capsule had a clear liquid in it.

"J, that liquid?"

"Water, Sir, mixed with a few things in emulsion to properly imitate the weight and viscosity of the paralytic."

"Ok, good." Tony said. He hadn't thought they'd deliberately leave the paralytic lying around, but depending on how tired they were when they finally went to bed (given that it wasn't even ten in the evening and the Tower was dark and quiet, Tony was betting everyone's sleep schedules had been screwed up royally), accidentally doing so was definitely a possibility.

Loki watched quietly while Tony tested the blowgun. "Well, when they wake up, tell them they did a good job on the gun and darts." Tony said. "And start a production run. Enough for two for everyone, that way we have plenty of backups in case some get wrecked."

"Of course, Sir."

Then Tony finally turned his attention to Loki. "So. I will admit to counting on you doing some mojo to keep the elves somewhat in line. I have to say, though, you went above and beyond. And that startled look almost fooled even me."

Loki made the oddest face Tony had ever seen. "T'was only partly my doing." He said. "The shield around you, yes. That was mine. The ... return strike? That, I had naught to do with."

Tony sighed. "I was afraid of that. So what the hell was up with that?"

"I have my suspicions." Loki admitted. "Though I do not have enough information for more than that. If I might ask a few questions?"

Tony shrugged as he plopped down on a stool. "Go for it. Can't guarantee I know the answer, but you can ask."

"Your father worked with the Tesseract, did he not?" Loki asked.

"Yeah. No idea for how long, but for at least a little bit." Tony said.

"When I ... " Loki hesitated, made another odd face, then forged on. "Inquired of Earth's defenders with Agent Barton, he said something about you having replaced a previous core with something else, the information for which you got from your father by some means?"

Tony blinked at Loki for a minute as his brain instantly connected the dots. Then he glanced down at his chest before glancing up at Loki.

"Are you telling me I have a miniature Tesseract in my chest?" Tony squawked.

"No. That would be quite impossible." Loki said. "But it is possible ... extremely unlikely but possible ... that your father managed to figure out a way to, essentially, synthesize magic by studying the Tesseract. Magic is, at its most basic definition, a form of energy that can be manipulated."

Tony had a feeling it was really a lot more complicated than that, but still. If Loki was right ... holy *shit*. Tony rubbed at his face.

"As much as part of me really wants to get into this right this second and figure everything out ... we don't have the time. If we're lucky - very, very lucky - Steve won't find out about HYDRA until day after tomorrow. But I am very much not counting on that. Odds are good he'll know before lunch and if you think we won't be out kicking ass before dinner ... "

Loki gave an inelegant snort. "No, you have the right of it. Steve will not dally in avenging Sergeant Barnes. We will be fortunate indeed just to keep up with him."

"Yeah. Which means we can't really get started on this, because an hour or two just is not going to cut it and we're both going to need sleep to keep up with Steve. So I'm going to stay up long enough to make sure the blowguns and darts get finished, and say hi to the 'bots." Who hadn't come out of their charging stations when Tony and Loki had come in. Probably at Jarvis' behest, so they could get the 'filling each other in' portion of the night over with quickly. "And then get some sleep."

Loki nodded. "A solid plan. And once we know just how busy we will be in the coming days, we can plan a time to investigate the matter of your arc reactor further."

Chapter Text

Phil

(_)(_)(_)

It very swiftly became clear to Phil, the next morning, that not only Tony and Loki (whom he had expected) but Thor were in the know as to HYDRA, and fully on board with keeping Steve in the dark for a little bit longer. Long enough, hopefully, to have a day to unwind after the tour they'd been on.

Phil figured this out because Tony herded everyone into the 'TV Room' part of the common entertainment floor literally three seconds after everyone was done eating, babbling about highlight reels the entire time. Thor and Loki both immediately joined in.

Surprisingly, so did Steve. And all four of them were at least grinning. Loki was actually snickering. Oh, wait, all *five* of them were looking at least amused. Because even Soldier had a very Natasha-esque amused quirk of the lips going. Huh. Maybe there was more to this than keeping Steve in the dark for a day.

Phil had gotten the unedited files last night but he hadn't had time to do anything about them, given everything else that had been going on and the hour at which the group had returned. He'd planned on watching at least some of the files today.

To their credit, the highlight reels were a *really effective* stalling tactic. Within five minutes, everyone, even Natasha and Logan (the more serious of the Avengers) were openly grinning. Soldier even had that quirk of the lips going again. Pretty much everyone else was either literally on the floor laughing or very close to it. Even himself. In his defense, listening to Stark squeak like a squirrel over things in Svartalfheim while watching the rest of the science contingent lose their minds over the stuff the suit recorded was a devastating combination.

The Alfheim reel almost literally brought the house down, as literally everyone with even a passing knowledge of Harry Potter reacted to the sight of King Salar with a near-simultaneous mention of Lucius Malfoy. By the time that giggle fit was over, only himself, Natasha, Soldier and Logan were still sitting on the furniture. And Phil had clung to his seat to keep from keeling over. It wouldn't do to break everyone's brains by ending up on the floor with everyone else. Everyone else had ended up on the floor, laughing hysterically either at Salar himself, the fact that nearly everyone had reacted to the sight of him the same way, or simply in reaction to everyone laughing themselves sick.

When things calmed down, Tony climbed back into his seat.

"We have got to watch Chamber of Secrets so they." Tony waved a hand at the 'unfamiliar with 21st century Earth' contingent. "Understand why we all just lost our shit."

"Seconded!" Darcy chirped, still giggling. Most of the others who knew the series were nodding agreement as well. "I'll get the popcorn started. Though we should maybe watch Philosopher's Stone first. Malfoy's not in that one. Well, not Malfoy Senior anyway. But they're gonna need it to completely understand Chamber of Secrets."

"Point." Tony agreed.

And thus was a nearly six-hour extension (with breaks for snacks, lunch, and the inevitable giggle attacks during Chamber of Secrets) arranged in such a way that Steve had no reason to be at all suspicious that something was up. By the time they wrapped up watching the two movies, it was time for dinner. After that, Tony (backed by several of the others) insisted they might as well watch the rest of the Harry Potter movies since they started the series. They wouldn't manage them all that night, of course, but they could manage at least two more, which would get them through half of the videos.

Phil joined them in the TV room, but he paid only enough attention to be aware if a problem cropped up. Instead, he focused his attention on the unedited files. Which were unexpectedly entertaining, even with the more hilarious moments of the highlight reels in context. Phil managed to (quietly) snicker his way through the whole Svartalfheim file by the end of the night.

What with one thing or another, Steve actually *got* the day of rest they'd been hoping to allow him before telling him about HYDRA. Without once, as far as Phil could tell, tweaking Steve's sense of something being wrong. Which was a not inconsiderable feat. Steve wasn't Natasha, aware of every nuance of peoples' behavior, but he was aware enough to have twigged to abnormal behavior if it had been present.

The next morning, Phil got up a bit earlier than usual and headed for the exercise floor. If Steve followed the pattern he'd established before the tour, he'd be down there working out. It was the best place to break the news. Plenty of things for Steve to hit and/or wear his anger out on that were actually built to handle such abuse. The trade off being there were also a lot of things he could hurt himself on.

Even better, when Phil got down there, Thor and Sam Wilson were there - and Barnes was nowhere in sight, either still sleeping or, well. Wait. There he was. In the rafters that served as both support for some of the equipment and aerial platforms for the more acrobatic of the Avengers. Thor was one of the few people in the Tower who could weather a physical assault by Steve without getting seriously injured in the process. He'd also already proven willing to serve as a target for Steve's anger over Barnes' situation. Phil actually suspected that was why Thor was present this morning. Certainly, he'd made a habit of joining Steve for workouts and sparring, but it hadn't been an every day thing.

Sam, of course, knew Steve would be getting filled in at some point and had obviously decided to lurk as well, so as to be on hand when his services became necessary. Fortunately, he, like Thor, was a rather open and friendly person so his hanging about wasn't noteworthy the way it would be if, say, Logan was lurking about. Winding Steve up by having atypical behavior going on would be counterproductive.

Phil had no idea if Barnes' presence would be a help or a hindrance.

"Ahh, Captain. I hate to interrupt your morning workout, but there are some things I'd like to go over with you." Phil said.

From the look Steve gave him, Steve suspected this was about Sergeant Barnes' captors. "Sure thing, Agent Coulson." Steve got off the treadmill he'd been running on.

Behind Steve, Thor drifted closer, under the (not all that subtle) guise of poking at the butterfly machine. Sam, wisely, was still hanging back. He was in very good condition and fully capable of defending himself under normal circumstances, but these were anything but normal circumstances. If Steve reacted to the news physically, he was *not* going to be holding back.

Phil dearly wished there was an easier, less traumatic way of breaking this news. Steve had been under enough pressure as it was. He wasn't a god. Sooner or later, he was going to break under the strain. And this news might just do it.

"While you were gone, we were, with Jarvis' assistance." More like, Jarvis figured most of it out before they'd got back, but that was a discussion for another time. "Able to ascertain who Sergeant Barnes' captors were." Phil said.

And oh, that look on Steve's face did not bode well for HYDRA. Not that they were ever going to have an easy time of it, but ... Barnes had always been Steve's soft spot. Steve would always have tried to wipe them out, after discovering they were still around. That they were responsible for Barnes' condition was just fuel on the fire. Jet fuel. With a napalm chaser. Speaking of Barnes, he abruptly dropped down out of the rafters, but did so so quietly Phil wasn't sure Steve knew he'd moved. He didn't come closer to the group, however.

As there was simply no easy way to break the news, Phil for once just blurted it out, not making Steve ask before he got his answer.

"It was HYDRA." Phil said.

For one long moment, there was complete silence. If Phil didn't know better, he would have been tempted to think that Steve either had not heard him, or had not understood what had been said. But that's not this was. This was ... well, rather like the initial second or so of Steve's reaction to the discovery that Soldier was Barnes. That split second of blank shock as Steve had processed what he was seeing, or in this case, what he'd just heard.

Then Steve's expression shifted. A tide of red flushed his face and neck and, Phil presumed, further down below the collar of the shirt he was wearing. His fists clenched and his eyes went flinty and murderous for a moment before they closed ... and Steve started to shake. And this was not the shaking of someone scared out of their mind. This was the shaking of someone right on the edge of losing control and fighting with everything they had to stay in control. Steve's jaw was clenched so tight Phil was pretty sure he could hear his teeth grinding.

Phil had no idea how long things might have stalled like that, Steve fighting for control and everyone waiting for the hammer to drop. He never got a chance to find out because between one breath and the next, Barnes was there. Giving Phil a look that was somewhere between outrage, defiance, and fear and putting himself between Phil and Steve like he thought Phil was going to physically attack Steve.

Given what Barnes had likely been through ... well. It was extremely probable that any emotional outbursts on his behalf had resulted in severe punishment. Phil was quite sure that Barnes wasn't to the point where he didn't automatically assume the worst of everyone around him.

Whether it was suddenly having Barnes that close (even though, with his eyes closed, Steve couldn't see him) or Steve merely reaching the end of his endurance ... well.

Steve exploded. Verbally and physically. The verbal ... well, Steve descended into Gaelic. Given that while it was well known Steve was the son of Irish immigrants, he'd never been known to speak the language (at least not in public) ... not a good sign.

As for the physical, well. Phil gave him credit where it was due ... he got away from *people*. Or tried to. Unfortunately, his first choice of target was one of the weight machines calibrated for super-strength. Something Steve could do a lot of damage to *himself* by attacking. So of course Thor intervened, moving fast enough it was pretty much literally blink-and-miss-it territory.

The first time the two of them had done this, Steve hadn't exactly been truly *fighting*. Mostly just flailing around as he gave vent to his rage. This time started the same way.

Unfortunately, Soldier didn't seem to get that this wasn't the two men attacking each other in earnest, and he went to Steve's defense. On the one hand, good to see. On the other ... well. It took all of about ten seconds for things to get *way* out of hand and very confusing. Soldier was trying to defend Steve, which meant tangling with Thor. Steve, already on the warpath anyway, took exception to seeing Bucky trying to go toe to toe with Thor and tried to get between them, this time in earnest. At which point things became rather difficult to keep track of. Phil was just grateful Steve's shield and Thor's hammer weren't down here or this could easily have gotten much, much worse.

All Phil could do was ensure he and Sam got out of the range of any crossfire as the three men started whaling on each other in various degrees of earnest. Oh. And yell for Loki, who was the only one who had a way to separate them without hurting anyone in the process. Phil had little doubt that Thor could subdue both men given the time to do so, but not without doing them damage first.

For all his own skills, Phil knew better than to attempt to get control of that mess himself. Thor might respond to a barked order, but there was no guarantee that Steve or Soldier would. If he had been in his right mind, Steve definitely would have but right this moment, it was anyone's guess whether or not Steve would respond. And getting involved physically was the height of idiocy. Phil knew he was good, but he wasn't good enough to manage two supersoldiers and an Asgardian.

"Jarvis! Tell Loki what's happening and get him down here." Phil barked.

Jarvis didn't bother responding audibly. His response came in the form of Loki teleporting into the room less than ten seconds after the request was out of Phil's mouth.

"Well, I can see why you requested my assistance." Loki said, in the sort of dry tone that indicated rather large amounts of sarcasm. "Well, first thing's first. Let's get the wild card out of the equation."

Green-gold tentacles sprang up from the floor near the brawling triad and snagged Barnes, pulling him away from the fight and restraining him from rejoining it. Once he was far enough away, Loki walked over.

"That." Loki said, pointing at the two still fighting it out. "Is not a legitimate attack. Steve was upset. Thor did not wish him to hurt himself by punching ... " Loki waved a hand at all the hard metal items in the room. "Most of that. So he presented himself as a target."

Barnes didn't look like he was buying what Loki was selling. Which was its own, bizarre brand of encouraging, that Barnes was willing to show that sort of expression. His memory wasn't back yet, as far as Phil knew, but his personality was recovering by leaps and bounds, comparatively speaking.

Meanwhile, with Soldier out of the equation, Thor finally managed to pin Steve to the floor. Who was still ranting in Gaelic. Phil was actually kind of glad he didn't know that language, because he had a feeling that Steve was cussing a blue streak and then some along with whatever else he was saying. And despite being rather thoroughly pinned, Steve was still trying to get out of Thor's grasp. He wasn't getting much of anywhere (thank goodness for Asgardian strength) but he was trying his damndest.

And just like last time, in between one breath and the next, Steve's rage collapsed in on itself and gave way to something else. This time, though, there were no tears. Just a very worrying, hollow-eyed silence. Thor cautiously let Steve up, and after a moment Steve wordlessly got to his feet and headed for the door to the stairwell, head bowed, shoulders slumped, and still silent.

"Do not let him out of the building without at least one of the team, Jarvis. Under any circumstances." Phil said. Steve hadn't looked like he wanted to go to war right this second, but that could change all too quickly.

"That." Sam said, speaking up for the first time and motioning towards the stairs where Steve had disappeared. "Is my cue." And he headed for the stairs as well.

Phil eyed Thor and Loki. "Thank you both for your assistance with this."

Chapter Text

Sam and Soldier

(_)(_)(_)

If there was one thing Sam had learned while pursuing his psychology degree, it was that people absolutely needed to talk about their problems. Bottling things up, repressing, whatever technical term you wanted to apply to it - that never led anywhere good. Because when you bottled shit up, it grew and festered and if you weren't careful it would eventually poison everything in your life.

Because as long as you didn't talk about whatever it was, there was no hope of truly dealing with it and finding a way to get on with your life - whether you got over whatever the problem was or not. And unlike some therapists, Sam was firmly of the opinion that there was some shit people just could not 'get over' and resume life as if nothing bad had happened.

What 'stuff' people couldn't get past varied from person to person, of course, but everyone had that line in the sand somewhere. A spot that, if you got pushed past it, you weren't ever going to go back to being the person you were before you got pushed over the line. Not that you'd go through your life a damaged wreck from then on, of course. It was just that, when you finally healed as much as you could, you wouldn't be quite the same as before.

Of everyone on the team, Sam had been - and still was - the most worried about Steve and Loki. Loki, well, he couldn't do anything there. Yet. Loki was still bottling things up like a pro. Until he started showing signs of wanting to talk about the shit he'd been through - or until he broke under the strain - Sam knew he could talk himself to death and accomplish nothing. You couldn't help those that didn't think they needed help and thus weren't willing to listen.

Steve, though. Steve had already started to crack under the strain before Sam got hired on. Sam had a feeling Steve had been cracking under the strain for a while, actually. Serum be damned, there was only so much a person could go through without shattering like a Ming vase dropped onto a concrete floor from fifty feet up.

Steve had lost literally everything, then been asked to not only adapt to a world that was as different from the one he'd left as chalk was from cheese, but to, once again, step up and lead a group of fighters in a war. That alone would have been enough to turn any *normal* person into a gibbering wreck curled up in the corner of a padded room. The mess with Barnes, and now HYDRA? Yeah. No *wonder* Steve had shattered like that.

Sam followed Steve down the stairs until they got to Barton's special range. Steve sort of folded into himself in a corner away from the big-ass metal door. Sam plunked himself down beside him.

"So. Not a fun discovery, I take it?" Sam asked.

A touch callous, perhaps, but ... Sam knew what was needed now. Right now, he needed to get Steve to vent. To spew as much of the poison that had been rotting in his gut since, Sam was willing to bet, Barnes fell off that damn train. The more they could lance that infected wound now, the better. Having said it all once, it would be that little bit easier for Steve to say it again later, and again, and again, however many times it took to work his way through or around it.

It took a few more (slightly insensitive) pokes before Steve came out of his slump and started talking. Like in the gym, at first it was Gaelic. Very, very, very angry Gaelic. Sam didn't care. This wasn't about trying to talk Steve into a better frame of mind yet, which would require being able to understand what Steve was saying in order to nudge him the right direction. Eventually, though, Steve returned to using English. He still sounded pissed as hell, but now there was also a tired resignation and something like defeat in his tone.

Given the circumstances, Sam could totally understand that. Still, he didn't say much of anything for a while, except the occasional poke when Steve started to go quiet.

Though it must be said that Steve's idea of 'going quiet' was the 'I am contemplating just how many ways I can commit murder and get away with it' sort. Because the more Steve talked, the more he got the anger under control. Which was good. Always. Even like this.

It wasn't like HYDRA weren't legitimate targets, after all. So long as Steve didn't get stupid or suicidal, Sam was of the opinion that he could kick however much HYDRA ass he wanted to avenge himself, Barnes, and the entire fucking planet if that's the way he wanted to play it.

"You all knew." Steve said finally.

Uh oh. This part could get a bit sticky.

"Since we got back. Jarvis found out while digging up the folks Romanov told him about." Sam admitted. "We didn't say anything yesterday because we wanted to at least try to give you a day to relax and get some sleep after doing the Realm tour before we dropped the hammer on you."

"Somehow, I don't think you guys just sat on the knowledge." Steve said.

Which made Sam bark a laugh. "Not a chance in hell, Captain. If you're looking for targets, we've got a few handy."

That made Steve look at him. "Isn't this the kind of thing you're supposed to discourage?" He asked. In the sort of tone that said he was going to kick ass regardless of what Sam said.

Sam made a rude noise. "Naw, man. These people *deserve* a good ass-kicking or ten. You start making stupid decisions or trying suicide-by-lackey, I'll call you on it and have Thor sit on you until you get your head screwed back on straight, but by all means, take your temper out on the folks that deserve to get punched in the teeth."

"Jarvis? Get everyone up. Team meeting in ten minutes." Steve growled. "And tell them to suit up."

Hoo boy. Let the fun begin. Good thing Potts had gotten his wings out of whatever storage bin they'd been put in. He was going to need them.

(_)(_)(_)

It was a damn good thing that he was used to fighting through incredible amounts of pain.

He'd stopped being able to let Steve fight his own battles without backup a *long ass* time ago. So even though the word 'HYDRA' was like a fucking bomb going off in his brain, he threw in with Steve against that big bastard Thor.

Sorting shit out when that fucking asshole Loki yanked him away? Took a few minutes. He didn't even notice when Loki turned him lose again.

Because for the first time in seventy fucking years, he *remembered*. He remembered who he ... well, who he had been, since he for fuck sure wasn't that person anymore. Not after the last seventy years. Christ on a crutch. Seventy. Fucking. Years.

Thank god most of that shit was still a blank. But the before? Before the war? Steve rescuing his sorry ass and him traipsing off after the punk to kick HYDRA ass? Yeah, that he remembered now.

He even knew why HYDRA had set off the memories. Or suspected why at least. Because the last coherent memory he had before everything went blank was being surrounded by a shitload of HYDRA goons with guns and scientists. Which meant he'd known right from the first who he'd been captured by. He'd probably tried to keep that shit tucked away somewhere so he could tell Steve and Phillips when he escaped or they came for him, whichever came first. Except that had never happened, for whatever reasons, and things got all tangled together somehow.

God, he had such a headache. He rubbed at his temples without really thinking about it. Unfortunately, he'd been ... well, barely moving unless ordered. And he could still feel that urge, that fear of doing something that would get him 'punished' pushing at him. Wanting him to obey, to be still and silent. At any rate, him doing that got the attention of Coulson and the other two.

"Soldier?" Coulson asked. He sounded concerned, but not in a 'are you about to snap and kill us all' way. More of a 'do you need help' way.

He'd give the Avengers this much, they'd been as gentle with him as they could manage to be. And he was going to have to thank Stark for the arm. He did *not* want HYDRA's shit anywhere near him ever again, unless he was blowing it right the fuck up.

Also, he was gonna have words with god, fate, kismet, whatever the fuck ran things. Because seriously. Seventy years and he's right back to following after Steve, with a small group of special operators who were supplied in part by a Stark. Christ. At least this Stark fought with them too, otherwise he'd be freaking out.

Not that he wasn't already. Quietly. Very quietly. Seventy. Fucking. Years. Shit. He knew how *he* had got here. But as soon as he was able, he and Steve were going to have *words* about how the fuck Steve got here without aging a day, because he just *knew* Steve hadn't lived through all that time.

"Soldier?" Coulson asked again.

Whoops. He fought down the near-compulsion to be silent. It was ... surprisingly easy, now. Or, well, easy-ish. He always had been a stubborn bastard. Had to be, to deal with Steve. The punk could out-stubborn his own damn screwed up body and any ten men back before the idiot got himself juiced up, and it had only gotten worse after.

And hadn't THAT been a fun fight, after he'd been rescued that first time. Jesus, Stevie. Can't leave you on your own for five fucking seconds and you're doing something that's liable to get you killed. What was that saying? Situation normal, all fucked up? Yeah. He *still* wanted to box the bastard's ears for that stunt. Because what *idiot* thought getting shot up with god-knows-what just so he could go to war was a good idea? He'd tell you who. Steven 'I'm A Fucking Idiot' Grant Rogers, that's who. Idiot.

At any rate, that stubborn streak of his was coming in handy now. Made it easier to fight the conditioning.

"Gonna need a gun." He said.

That made all three of them blink and stare at him, startled.

"Ahhh ... I don't think that would be wise as yet." Coulson said.

He gave the man a flat glare. "Not stayin' behind." He insisted.

"And if you return to your ... previous state?" Coulson asked.

He shrugged. "Might. Won't matter. Got a target."

That was really all that the Soldier had cared about. Having a target. He'd already decided to protect Steve's ass even before he remembered who the fuck he had been, so it would be ridiculously easy to go 'anyone shooting at Steve is a target' and if he kicked into that state of mind, there wouldn't be so much as a hiccup.

It was Loki that spoke next. "You are being ... unusually chatty." Loki commented, peering closely at him. Whatever Loki saw, it gave him what he needed to know. "Oh. Oh, I see. Well then. Welcome back, Sergeant."

Coulson squawked. "Loki!"

"We agreed not to mention what he did not know. I know this. But *look* at him, Agent Coulson. He remembers. Mayhap not everything, but enough. More even than mere hours ago." Loki said.

That had Coulson looking at him more closely. "Is he right?"

"Yeah." And at that point, fighting the urge to keep his mouth shut became too much, and he resorted to writing on the pad he'd taken to keeping with him.

'Still don't remember everything. Enough of it though. Steve. Me. The war. Cuts out after I got captured the second time. Saw a bunch of HYDRA goons. Think that's why I'm remembering now. First time anyone's said that word around me.' Then, under that. 'Steve's gonna go on the warpath. And either you yahoos give me a gun and let me tag along official like or I'll find my own and do it anyway. I owe the bastards a few dozen lumps.'

Coulson read the note and quirked an amused smile at ... shit, he really needed to get back into the groove of using the name, even if he was never really going to be Bucky ever again.

Somehow, he didn't think Steve would mind. It was pretty damn clear that whatever the fuck had happened after he fell off that fucking train that Steve hadn't come out the other side his old self either. They'd figure shit out like they always had. As a team. Even if he had to occasionally clout Steve upside the head to knock some sense into him. Someone had to, and he had the suspicion this lot hadn't figured out yet that Steve needed that occasional clout.

"Hmm. Somehow, that does not surprise me. Well, we will have a little time before Steve gets his feet back under him. Let's see how you handle a gun and then we can plan accordingly." Coulson said. "Let's head to the range."

He ... dammit. Bucky. He needed to remember to use the fucking name. Bucky nodded agreement. Steve was gonna go to war, and soon. And Bucky intended to be there with him.

Chapter Text

Steve and Tony

(_)(_)(_)

For nothing.

It had all been for nothing.

That thought kept circling in Steve's head even as he stomped away from Sam and headed for his floor. It circled as he grabbed the uniform and gave it a titanic, almost hateful glower before yanking it on. It circled as he stomped into his boots. It made him taste bile at the back of his throat. It only went silent when he grabbed his shield.

Because like *hell* was he going to let it stay that way. One way or another, HYDRA would die. Even if it was the last thing Steve did. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life hunting them down like the roaches they were. He would not, could not, let everything he, the Commandos and the SSR had done be for nothing. He *would not* let that be his, or their, legacy damnit. He'd never been able to just stand back and let the bullies win even when he'd been a ninety pound asthmatic. He for damn sure wasn't going to call that fight quits now.

As he made his way out of his apartment ... floor, whatever ... part of him wanted to be mad as hell at Coulson and the rest of the team for keeping this from him. The rest of him recognized that they'd probably done the right thing. At least this way he'd gotten two decent nights of sleep before kicking some tail. He was able to think better. Well, sort of. He was mad enough to make him lean more towards what Bucky would have called 'dumb shit stunts' than sane, practical tactics. This once, he didn't think that was going to be too much of a problem.

He got a few surprises when he walked into Tony's penthouse, which was where everyone had assembled according to Jarvis, when he belatedly remembered to ask as he hadn't specified where to meet. Hadn't really known where, to tell the truth. He'd have to remember to ask if there was somewhere specific set aside. They couldn't use the penthouse every time. And by 'where everyone had assembled', Steve meant *everyone*.

Including John, who was wearing a black leather outfit like those the X-Men had worn during the invasion, and that Steve assumed Tony had gotten the design for at some point. Oddly, John wasn't flicking the lighter that Steve knew was as much a part of him as his arm. But then John flicked his hand and a little ball of flame popped into his hand. When it winked out, Steve caught a glimpse of something in John's palm. Probably some ignition system Tony had cooked up.

Sam Wilson was there, which surprised Steve, with an odd looking backpack on his back and goggles on his head. It took Steve a minute to remember what the heck the deal was there. Oh, right. Mechanical wings. That Sam flew on, with only standard issue body armor for protection. Which officially made him crazier than Tony in Steve's books. Steve cocked an eyebrow at Sam.

"Guess you decided to sign up."

"For this? Hell yes. Someone needs to keep an eye on your ass. No insult to him intended." Sam motioned to the *other* surprise in the room.

Bucky. Who was wearing the Winter Soldier getup (the mask was off but sitting on a side table nearby) and had a gun the size of a house leaning against his leg. But there was none of the dead-eyed Soldier in the man now wearing that outfit. A man who flashed a sign at him that made Steve's heart skip a few beats.

'end of the line'.

Soldier had not showed any signs of knowing about that. Something that had predated their days in the war. Recognizing Steve, yes. Remembering specific events or often-used phrases, never mind his own name, not so much. Steve glanced from S ... Bucky to Coulson, wide-eyed, hardly daring to hope.

"Evidently HYDRA was a key word for a good chunk of his memory." Coulson said. "He says he doesn't have everything back still, but evidently everything that predates the war is back."

The shield hit the ground with a thunk and Steve headed straight for Bucky. Who, much to Steve's relief, didn't hesitate even a second at seeing the hug coming.

"Punk." Bucky said when they pulled back apart.

Steve had never heard anything more wonderful in his life. "You fucking jerk." He ground out, trying desperately to not cry. It took him a minute and a couple deep breaths to pull it back together.

Steve didn't bother asking if ... god. If Bucky was sure. They'd both follow each other into hell, if it came to that. Part of him wanted to order Bucky to stay behind, not sure he could handle having Bucky in the field with him. Not sure he could handle risking losing Bucky *again*. But if there was anyone who owed those bastards a few rounds of pain, it was Bucky. And as much as Steve wanted to swaddle Bucky in cotton batting and lock him up somewhere safe, he knew he couldn't.

Tony, clad in a suit that looked like it had just come off the assembly line (it probably had. Steve knew the other had gotten banged up and the suitcase one wasn't armored enough for sustained combat), said. "J, let's show him the targets."

Immediately, four satellite images sprang up. Along one side of the images were latitude and longitude markings, civilian population density of the area, weather forecasts, and the number of HYDRA in each facility, what security measures each had, and what, exactly, HYDRA was doing with each location.

Interestingly enough, the 'civilian population' section was at zero for each of the four sites. Three were what looked on the surface like small private airports tucked away in remote corners of the world. The fourth was a big, old castle.

"There's more than these four, but these are the first ones we found that didn't have innocent civvies we'd have to work around." Tony said, teeth flashing in a very unfriendly grin. "I figured you might want to, shall we say, send a message? And a quiet, surgical strike lacks something in the message department."

Yeah, Tony *would* know something about sending messages, wouldn't he? He'd sent a darn big one to the people who'd kidnapped him. Might not hurt to take a page out of that book. And with Bucky in the Soldier getup, Steve was betting Bucky had a similar idea. HYDRA couldn't know they had no hope of regaining control of him, so they'd think they could turn him on the Avengers. And when that failed spectacularly ...

Steve couldn't quite repress the nearly evil grin that thought brought on. "Bruce?" He asked.

Bruce gave him a quiet smile. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to let Hulk join the party." He said. "He's got to learn to fight *with* you guys somehow. This might be the best way, at least until he understands things like 'training'."

Yeah, that one had kept Steve thinking after the meet up with Hulk on Asgard. Hulk wasn't stupid, but he had rather understandable issues where violence was concerned. It'd probably be a while before he didn't immediately assume the worst of any apparent violence in his vicinity.

Of the four, the castle was the most remote. Out in the middle of absolutely nowhere, surrounded by forest. The nearest neighbors were a good ten or fifteen miles away. In Bavaria. Something about that tweaked Steve's memory so he tapped that picture. The other three shrank down, and the castle expanded, a larger and more detailed file opening beside it.

Including the name of the place. And who owned it.

Well. Talk about your targets that send a message. It didn't get much better than blowing up the house of the guy who'd helped fund Red Skull. Among other things. Steve had never seen Strucker on the battlefield, but the bastard had been eyeball deep in HYDRA. They'd suspected he'd at least been housing HYDRA agents, if not had an actual base in his basement somewhere even during the war. So it wasn't a surprise there was a base there now.

"It's actually in use?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Refuge in audacity, we think. Surely HYDRA, if it still existed, wouldn't use *this* place as a base. Too obvious. The use is fairly new ... last decade or so. It was empty before that. Probably wanted to give people enough time to start to forget." Tony offered. "Strucker's still knocking around, too. Supposed to be there all this week from what Jarvis found."

Steve nodded. "Right. We start at the top and work our way down. I want every nook and cranny checked. Places like this always have secret passages and someone could backtrack and get behind us if we don't know where they are."

"I got that covered, Cap. Lots of spy-eyes and Jarvis." Tony said. "And they." He motioned to Coulson, the science squad (minus Bruce, of course), Darcy and Rogue. "Will be on comms watching our backs."

Steve nodded. "I want Strucker alive if at all possible. If anyone will know about HYDRA it'll be him."

Unsaid but, from the looks on everyone's faces, understood, was that literally everyone else in the place was expendable. Unless of course they were clearly a captive of some stripe. Given the obsession with recreating himself, Steve wouldn't put it past Strucker to have his own attempts running, complete with unwilling subjects.

"Loki, I want you, Clint and Natasha working the shadows. Hit where they can't see you coming, and sow confusion. Tony, Thor, Sam, you three are on their exterior security and our air support. Knock them out and keep them down no matter what. John, you're with me and Bucky. James, you and Remy pair up. Bruce, you stay with the jet until we've got the place cleared of people or Hulk's needed, whichever happens first."

That ensured there was at least one long range fighter and one short range with each group. He'd mix up the groups if he had to on future missions, to figure out what worked best.

"Once we're sure we have all the people, one way or another." Steve fairly growled. "And all the information we can get out of their computers and any paper files. Well, that'll be up to those of you with the heavy firepower, but I want that place to be nothing more than ash on the wind when we're done."

"As for you, you jerk." Steve said, scowling at Bucky. He didn't say anything else. He really didn't need to. The titanic scowl Bucky was sporting said enough for the both of them. Message sent and received. They'd be sticking to each other like glue.

(_)(_)(_)

Tony was more than a little alarmed here. Steve was ... yeah. That expression? Not comforting. Tony didn't even know how to classify that look other than as 'terrifying'. They were going to play hell keeping up with him and keeping him from getting himself killed. Though Barnes might help more than expected.

He'd been surprised when Coulson had filled them in after Steve called the meeting. Barnes might not be talking much yet (more than before, but still not much), but he'd made it real damn clear that where Steve went, he went. And Tony had seen the footage of the shooting range. He hadn't gone all Soldier the moment he touched a gun.

Though honestly, in this case, Tony didn't think Barnes going Soldier would actually be a problem. Even before most of his memory had booted back up, he'd been protective of Steve. Tony didn't see that changing. Ever. Shit, the man had responded to Steve even with ninety nine percent of his brain fried to ash. You couldn't buy, beg or borrow that sort of loyalty.

At least Steve was the sort who could think coherently even when he was so pissed he couldn't see straight. But then, that sort of figured. The guy could come up with workable plans even when he had to pull everything out of his flag-clad ass, like that first attempt to save Barnes. Steve hadn't known jack shit about where Barnes was except for there were other captured soldiers there and a shitload of HYDRA. He'd still come out on top.

In point of fact, the only time he'd ever lost a fight in the war was that damn plane. Even Barnes' loss hadn't made him lose the train mission. And given the circumstances, Tony wasn't the only one since then to wonder if that, perhaps, hadn't been deliberate. Steve'd hardly be the first to just give up after one loss too many. However heretical that line of thinking generally was in regards to Steve. Because seriously, bringing up the possibility of that having been a suicide run got people frothing at the mouth faster than damn near anything else.

They had to wait a bit for Clint and Natasha to get the jet. Tony made due mental note to just keep the jet here. It'd take up most of the roof, but there was nothing for it. They were going to be in and out way too much for a while to get a quinjet from SHIELD every time they needed one.

All that said? This was going to be *fun*. HYDRA was going to piss its collective pants just having Barnes coming at them in full Soldier regalia. Especially when they figured out they couldn't regain control of him. At least, not as easily as they assumed they could anyway. Bless Frigga for making sure all that shit was out of Barnes' head. They could always regain control of him the hard way, but Tony would *love* to see them try. That would ... yeah. That would end *extremely* badly. For HYDRA. Because Steve would burn them to the ground single-handedly to get Barnes back if HYDRA ever recaptured him.

Having the rest of the Avengers coming down on them? Some might say that was overkill. But Tony thought, had *always* thought, that overkill was just kill enough. If you blasted the other guy back to the stone age, he couldn't exactly get back up and cause you trouble in any kind of hurry. If he got up at all.

Chapter Text

Sam

(_)(_)(_)

For having so many people aboard, the quinjet was eerily silent. Also, it had the feel of a powder keg just waiting for the spark it needed to explode. Not at all surprising given the situation, but still alarming. Especially given what these people were capable of.

Sam had opted to ride on the quinjet. He had his wings back yes, but he'd never flown over an entire ocean with them. They had the capacity to go that kind of distance, but he and the others in the program had always deployed from the US military base nearest the folks needing to be rescued, and more rarely, from a plane when the rescuees were too far behind enemy lines to make deployment from a base practical. Now was not the time to find out if he could handle flying that sort of distance and still be fighting ready at the other end.

Barton and Romanov were in the cockpit flying them. Both of them, like everyone else, were armed for bear. Barton had about a dozen quivers with who knew what sort of arrows stacked in a corner. No bets on whether he had other stuff hidden on him. Romanov had no less than four guns and he didn't even want to know what else she was hiding on her. She also had some weird, thick cuff things on her wrists that Sam figured were bad news, even if he had no idea what they did.

Both Barnes and Rogers had Howitzers. Ok, not really. But Stark had given them both enormous guns that bore an uncanny resemblance to an M41A Pulse Rifle as seen in Aliens. Sam had never seen anything like it in the service.

Given they were working with Stark ... Sam would absolutely *not* put it past the man to have worked out how to make a fake movie gun a reality for shits and giggles. As big as they were, the recoil (especially in grenade mode) was probably enough to put stress fractures in bones in most folks, which would explain why it'd never gone into full production. Rogers and Barnes were on a very short list of people who could handle that sort of recoil without a problem.

Sam figured that Rogers' comfort level with guns would freak a lot of people out. There was a (hysterically funny and kind of horrifying at the same time) perception in certain circles that Rogers had never used anything but his shield during the war. Sam had never quite been sure why people thought that, because anyone going into a warzone with only a shield and no means of offense was going to get very dead very quickly. And yes, the shield was sort of an offensive weapon the way Rogers flung it around, but even with souped-up strength, his range with the shield was pretty limited.

Stark had offered guns to everyone else. Sam had been the only one to take him up on the offer, choosing a pair of M-9A1's for their familiarity. Stark had happily handed them over with what amounted to a fanny pack full of clips. Enough to keep Sam in ammo for the fight. He hoped.

Sam had also had just enough time to collaborate with Dr. Reyes to make sure they had a decent medical kit aboard the jet just in case, and Dr. Reyes on standby just in case someone got hurt worse than a field kit could handle. This being a Stark operation, the medical kit was more than decent.

Given the look Rogers'd been sporting since he'd been filled in, and the way everyone's been chomping at the bit to kick HYDRA ass, Sam had decided to call it a win when Stark and Thor paced the jet rather than flew ahead to kick some preemptive ass. They could both get there a lot faster than the jet could. Not that Barton and Romanov were exactly driving in the slow lane, but a Quinjet could only go so fast.

Then they were in Bavarian airspace and Sam gave the silent jet a wave before tumbling out the back with an exuberant whoop. The circumstances were for shit, but that was not going to make Sam love flying like this any less. Being back in the sky was fucking *awesome*. He let himself tumble well clear of the jet before he straightened out into a dive and popped the wings, rocketing skyward again on a graceful curve as he momentarily had to play 'chase the jet' to catch up. It didn't take long before he was pacing the jet along with Thor and Stark.

A laugh came through his comm. "C'mon, birdbrain. Let's see what you got."

Of *course* Stark would egg him on. Stark side-slipped closer and Sam didn't need to be able to see his face to see the smirk.

"Man, just because that tin can of yours can go Mach speeds you think you're the shit." Sam heckled right back. "Let me tell you, Stark. Speed ain't everything."

Sam was never going to tell Stark, of course, that he thought the suit actually *was* the shit. A little on the eye-catching side with Stark's preference in colors, but otherwise pretty much the epitome of awesome. They trash-talked back and forth for a few minutes, but then the castle came in sight and anything even remotely resembling humor disappeared like smoke on the wind.

Thor, as planned, went high. He was the one with the infinite and *really* heavy duty ammo in the form of lightning. He would primarily deal with any big shit and, of course, help with the final destruction of the place. Otherwise, he was taking Barton's apparently usual place as eyes up high.

Stark took the midlevel. He had some pretty high-yield and long-range toys, but those toys had extremely limited ammo. His repulsors, while weaker (relatively speaking. They still packed more of a punch than the average gun) had an essentially unlimited number of shots. The tradeoff being that the repulsors' range was more limited than the high yield toys, so he had to be a bit closer to the action.

Sam got the deck level. His effective range with his guns was about a hundred and fifty feet, so he needed to be pretty close to his targets relatively speaking. He'd also be mostly concentrating on *people*, rather than punching holes in walls, knocking down doors, or smushing any vehicles or the like that came out to play.

Part of him flinched a little at killing people rather than saving them. Then he reminded himself who these particular people were, and the sorts of shit they had done. After that he stopped having a problem with capping their asses.

Also as planned, Stark zipped through the security measures surrounding the castle and started blowing them up. Sam followed on behind, staying low. It didn't take long for people to start boiling out of the castle with various weapons, trying to get a bead on Stark. Because everyone was focused on the bright and shiny red and gold armor, they generally didn't notice the matte grey and black (despite there being quite long wings involved) clad Sam until it was *way* too late.

Then most of the rest of the Avengers came boiling through the hole Stark and Sam had opened in the castle's security perimeter. No sign of Loki, Barton, or Romanov, but one of that triad could teleport, a second had made a career out of not being noticed and a third was a sniper so it wasn't really surprising.

And that's when the screaming started. Before then, it'd mostly been shouting of orders with the odd startled and pained scream thrown in as someone got hit in a way that didn't result in instantly getting dead. Apparently, if you're HYDRA, the combination of a murder-faced Captain America and masked Winter Soldier coming at you guns blazing was pants-wettingly terrifying. Poor Pyro was practically an afterthought to everyone, though he was doing his fair share of damage.

Sam didn't blame them a bit for that. He wasn't even in their direct line of sight, never mind being someone they were targeting, and the way the two of them were fighting was making him want to run for cover. It was almost funny, the way people scrambled to get the hell out of their line of fire, preferring to die on Wolverine's claws or at the hands of nearly anyone else than face that pair.

Then the gang was in the castle and Sam lost sight of them. He could still hear them over the comms, along with a lot of terrified and pained screaming, and the odd shout of something that wasn't pain or fear. The third time that happened, he heard a rusty, spine-chilling giggle he was pretty sure was Barnes, followed by something that had the cadence of a taunt in the same language. Which was when Sam realized those occasional shouts were probably attempts at getting the 'Winter Soldier' back under HYDRA control.

Tough luck, fuckers. Also, way to make sure you got extra dead. Sam didn't even need to see what was going on to know that Rogers at least would be all too happy to put a bullet in those peoples' brains. Most of the rest of the Avengers too. Though some (like Romanov and Logan. Possibly Loki too) might want to hurt the assholes for a while first, in retribution.

At that point, though, the tanks and really nasty guns (shooting blue shit, what the hell) came out. Stark yelped something about 'shooting that blue shit at me' in what had to be a riff on the quote from Independence Day.

Which got a very alarmed sounding shout from Rogers.

"Do not, I repeat do NOT let them shoot you with those! If they're the same damn things they used in the war, they'll disintegrate you even if they only clip you!"

"Roger that, Cap." Stark said. Then. "You heard the man, Jarvis. Let's turn the heat up."

Sam, wisely, got the hell out of dodge, swinging wide around the castle away from Stark and whatever the hell he was about to do. He stayed as low as the wings would let him, using HYDRA's own people as shields as much as he could against the blue-energy guns. HYDRA hadn't hesitated about shooting in the direction of their own people with the normal guns but they were noticeably less eager to do so with the blue energy ones. Which was all the proof Sam needed that Rogers was right about those guns.

Seconds after he got the bulk of the castle between him and Stark, the comms abruptly cut out, and there was a bright white flash of light. Then the comms cut back in. Whatever the hell that had been, the sound of shooting from that side of the castle all but stopped. When Sam swooped back around, about three fourths of the HYDRA goons were laid out flat on the ground. They were all still alive and breathing, but it didn't look like they could move.

"Stark, the hell was that?" Sam asked.

"Aural paralyzer." Stark said in a very, very, very worrying tone of voice. "With a flash grenade appetizer to distract them. They won't be able to move for about ten minutes, give or take."

Sam made due mental note to poke at Stark about that later, because that tone of voice was extremely worrying. For now, he settled for landing and starting to frisk the nearest disabled goons prior to hogtying them while Stark took out the last of the gunners. At least there hadn't actually been any tanks or the like. Sam hoped. At least, he assumed such would have been thrown at them by now.

"Don't forget to check their teeth." Stark said in a more normal tone of voice. Relatively speaking. He still sounded off, like he was playing at being fine, rather than actually being fine.

"Right. Cyanide teeth. Idiots." Sam snarked, even as he pried the mouth of the goon he was frisking open and started knocking at the idiot's teeth.

"Well, probably not cyanide these days." Stark said. "It's not all that reliable as a method of offing yourself despite what the movies like to pretend. They probably came up with something better if they stuck with the tooth thing."

Sam didn't find any loose teeth. That didn't mean there wasn't a suicide tooth, just that the thing was securely enough anchored not to give under a gentle knock from a knuckle. "You've got the snazzy tech. Come over here and make sure this guy's clean in the tooth department." Sam said, as much because he wanted eyes on Stark after the way he'd sounded talking about the paralyzer as anything else.

Stark flew over and landed. A few seconds later, he spoke up. "Jarvis says he's clear."

Yeah. "All right. Let's get the rest of these assholes trussed up before they get any bright ideas." Sam said.

Stark griped, but fell in easily enough. After about ten minutes, he even started sounding more like himself. Once they'd gotten the paralyzed goons stacked up like cordwood near the security perimeter, they sat back and listened to the mayhem going on in the castle proper. Stark stayed on his toes, ready to fly in and help shoot the place (and people) up if he was needed, but from what they were hearing over the comms, the other Avengers had it more than handled.

Some of what they were hearing was even amusing. Loki had apparently taken Rogers' directive to hit from the shadows as permission to be a little shit. A vicious, homicidal shit, but a little shit. He had (among other things, very probably) apparently commandeered some of the dead HYDRA goons and was 'animating' them like they were zombies. Complete with the 'zombies' biting other HYDRA goons and 'infecting' them, which was freaking the rest of the HYDRA goons out and cracking up most of the Avengers.

Chapter Text

Loki

(_)(_)(_)

Loki had been tempted to offer to teleport everyone to the castle. He had, however, realized that arriving by more ordinary means was as much a part of the message they wanted to send as the rest of the attack.

Though he deeply appreciated Steve giving him carte blanche to do what he did best. Hit and fade fighting was Loki's bread and butter, whether he was using magic or not. He'd never seen the appeal of standing toe to toe with an opponent and beating the hell out of each other. He much preferred to get away with as little damage to himself and as much damage to his opponent as possible.

After Sam bailed out, Agent Barton and Natasha set the jet down in a clearing in the forest. The clearing was close enough to allow them to get to and from the castle quickly while still keeping the jet out of sight. They had each been issued comms, so it was a matter of listening quietly for a minute or two while Tony (primarily) blew a hole in the perimeter security.

To HYDRA's credit, it took less than a minute for their people to swarm out of the castle in response to the surprise attack. That, however, seemed to be the limit of their capability, as apparently not a one of them could get a bead on Tony or Sam. Not that Loki wanted either man hurt, but you'd think the idiots would have at least fair aim with the weapons they used. Worse, none of them seemed to have cottoned on to Thor's presence, despite him not making any effort to stay out of sight overhead. Though it was possible they simply didn't have anything capable of shooting down something at that height and so had no choice but to leave Thor be.

"I will teleport the two of you if you so wish." Loki offered to Natasha and Barton.

Natasha, he was fairly sure, would accept. Barton, on the other hand, might have been understandably leery of putting himself in Loki's hands thus. Loki would have been, in the same circumstances. So Loki was pleasantly surprised when both of them indicated their agreement.

As soon as a hole had been blasted in the security perimeter, the jet emptied, save for the three of them and Bruce. Natasha and Barton quickly chose balconies to be teleported to, and Loki brought them to their chosen spots, then teleported himself to a third balcony. They had arranged themselves such that they formed a roughly equilateral triangle between them, spread over three floors. Barton and Natasha had taken the highest floors while Loki had taken the lowest with a balcony. He presumed that the two agents intended to eliminate the non-combatant HYDRA agents (whether they were so-called scientists or served some other function) that remained on those floors, then work their way down.

Loki, on the other hand, fully intended to sow as much chaos as could be managed among the combatants themselves, so had needed to be among them.

The first thing he did was turn their bullets into paintballs. Ones of a shade of red that matched fresh blood so that it would take them longer to realize there was a problem and find different guns or ammo clips. Not that they seemed to be having much luck hitting any of the Avengers, but now, if they did, the Avengers would come to no harm until HYDRA realized what had happened and fixed the problem somehow. That taken care of, Loki turned his attention to other matters.

First came a subtle confusion spell. Nothing so obvious or immediate as to make HYDRA agents wander around in circles or the like, but enough to slow their decision making abilities down gradually the longer the fight went. Not that Loki thought the fight would last all that long, but it was better if no one realized there was something wrong.

Second came a spell to further skew their already atrocious aim to prevent them from injuring the Avengers. Loki didn't normally use that spell because projectiles sent awry had the potential to hit innocents. Here, however, the spell was perfectly fine as the only other people in range for the bullets to hit were HYDRA goons.

By the time he'd woven those spells, such was the Avengers' rage that there were a number of dead HYDRA scattered about outside. It gave Loki an idea. An evil, awful, absolutely hysterically funny idea. Best he forewarn the Avengers of this one, though.

"Be advised. I am about to make it appear as if their dead are zombies." Loki said into the comm he'd been given and largely ignoring until then. No one had sounded particularly alarmed, so he'd had no need to tune into what was being said.

There was more than one laugh between the other chatter on the comm line.

"Christ. Zombies, Loki? That's mean. I love it." Came from Bruce, the only one (thanks to not being in the battle. Yet.) with the luxury of time to respond with more than a laugh.

Loki started weaving the spell. He was not making actual zombies, of course. He was merely arranging for the dead bodies to move about under his power and *seem* to be zombies. As with the other spells, he didn't have all the bodies rise up at once and start running around. He started with one body at the very edge of the action, and slowly increased the number of 'zombies' from there. Once that spell started working, he finally went inside the castle proper.

By then, the other Avengers had all made it into the castle, which made it somewhat more imperative to intervene in what was going on inside the castle. The first thing Loki did was seal the castle tight, locking the HYDRA agents inside it, while allowing the Avengers to come and go as they pleased. Then he pulled a real oldie out of his arsenal. This spell made the target hear whispers. Never loud enough to discern what was being said, and never from a clear direction. It also made the target see movement out of the corners of their eyes, but only when there wasn't actually any movement to be perceived. If the target was unlucky enough to have an Avenger near them and trying to sneak up on them, the target would see *nothing*.

Sadly, despite the confusion spell, HYDRA did finally notice their guns were ... not right ... and did something about it, evidently by breaking out some World War Two classics, from the chatter Loki heard on the comm. Before Loki could come up with a solution, Tony did, dropping everyone outside in one fell swoop. The good news was that the HYDRA goons inside the castle were not (yet) employing those guns. Probably because they ran a much greater risk of disintegrating either their own people or something important to their cause.

With the action outside contained, Loki brought the increased number of 'zombies' inside the castle to sow chaos there. After that, it was mostly monitoring for unexpected developments. Oh, and sitting back and watching the fruits of his labors.

The results of the 'zombie' spell were more than he could have hoped for. The HYDRA goons, already on edge facing off against Winter Soldier and an extremely pissed off Captain America, almost universally fell into sheer, blind, gibbering terror in the face of 'zombies' being added to the attack force. It really didn't help that Loki had ensured the 'zombies' acted correctly. That is, shambling about, apparently biting and infecting living opponents, and the like. The 'biting and infecting' only happened when a 'zombie' was close enough to a HYDRA goon that had just been shot or otherwise killed that the 'zombie' body blocked HYDRA goons' view of the real source of the new death.

Roughly half of the surviving goons dropped their weapons and ran screaming when they finally started noticing the 'zombies'. Of course, the situation being what it was, they ran screaming straight into the Avengers and their weapons. Which added more 'zombies' to the roster. Combined with the confusion spell and dealing with exceedingly pissed off Avengers, it took remarkably little time for goons to start curling up in balls and gibbering in fear, standing stock-still in wide-eyed horror, and the like.

As the resistance crumbled, the Avengers began to actively sweep the castle for stragglers and secret passages. They had run into a large number of goons, but only one or two agents of any rank thus far. Nor had they found any sort of control room for the security measures, never mind anything else.

What they had found was a lot of labs. With a lot of stuff in them. At least one of which had *something* to do with Barnes' situation, given he flatly refused to go anywhere near the door, never mind into the room. Given he'd apparently had either no problem at all or only minor problems with the other labs, that was a rather big tell. From the look of the equipment in the room (according to Clint, who'd been the first to look), the room had likely been repurposed since Barnes had been in it, however.

"I recognize a lot of this stuff from Fosters' lab." Clint said over the comm. "Don't think there's anything here *now* that could hurt someone unless it blew up."

It was Logan, by dint of his enhanced hearing and knocking on walls with his fists, that found the hollow space hidden behind what looked like a stone wall in one of the storage rooms. Since no one had the patience to find the opening mechanism, Clint used an explosive arrow to blow the stone out of their way. They found an elevator shaft, the elevator apparently at the bottom.

"Right. Odds we're going to have a party waiting on us at the bottom?" Clint asked.

"Really damn good." Logan growled.

"Allow me." Loki said, then teleported down to the inside of the elevator. From there, he cast a spell that allowed him to see what was going on on the other side of the door.

Answer? A lot of people with very big guns and other weapons all focused on the elevator. None of the guns were the blue energy type, however. That meant that Loki could turn the ammunition into paintballs with impunity, and put the skewed aim spell on everyone. The bladed weapons he turned to rubber. The other weapons - all variations on tazers and dart guns whose darts were loaded with who-knew-what, he simply broke the triggers on so they would not work.

That done, he teleported back up to the group.

"Have fun." He told them. "I disabled all the weapons I could perceive. They might still have one or two things hiding somewhere, but most of their weapons won't harm you."

He got rather a lot of very feral grins before the gang all dropped down the elevator shaft. Logan used his claws to cut out the roof of the elevator, then the elevator doors. The rest of the Avengers poured into the basement area behind him. Loki strolled along in their wake, making sure those few not killed didn't cause any trouble as the Avengers stormed through the floor.

Logan had to cut their way through three doors - one of them an enormous, thick blast door - before they finally got into the control room.

And that's when they finally hit pay dirt. Because here, finally, was Baron von Strucker. By the look of him, not the man that had helped fund HYDRA during Steve's time, but his son or grandson. He was far too young looking, not being white haired or otherwise visibly elderly to be anything else. And that man's son and daughter, standing to either side of him, weapons drawn. For all the good that would do them.

Before anyone could say anything, Clint, half hidden behind the other Avengers, shot all three of them with the darts that the science team had put together.

"Good job, Hawkeye." Steve growled even as the rest of the Avengers brought down the rest of the people in the control room in rapid succession.

Steve knelt to check for a suicide tooth or other means of suicide. And, for the first time, found what he was looking for. Evidently, the average goon was kept ignorant enough of HYDRA's plans to not need to suicide. At least that was the explanation Loki was going to go with for now. All three Struckers had some means to end their lives on their persons. The two young adults had small syringes (which apparently worked like something called an 'epi-pen'. Loki made a note to look that up later) in a pants pocket, while their father had a suicide tooth.

All the control room staff also had either a syringe or a tooth. Which they had seemed to depend entirely on their age. The older staff all had the teeth, while those under the age of about forty all had syringes. Loki decided the difference was less because of a change in HYDRA methodology and more because of advances in poisons and the possible methods of applications thereof.

It took another four hours to quadruple check that they'd found everyone (once they had, Loki finally dropped all the spells he'd cast), haul the still-living HYDRA goons and the Struckers to the jet, pull every byte of data from the computers and locate and transfer all the paper files. All that done, the heavy-hitter Avengers (finally including Bruce) turned their attentions to the castle proper while the rest of the Avengers (including Loki) sat back, watched the fun, and cheered their teammates on as they reduced the castle to, quite literally, a smoking hole in the ground between them.

Loki had no real way to be sure, but it looked to him like Hulk had had entirely too much fun tearing the castle apart. He probably got a kick out of not only being allowed to wreck the shit out of something, but having people alongside him *helping* wreck the shit out of things. And it was an unqualified success in the whole 'teach Hulk to work with a team' arena. He hadn't balked once, nor had he turned his destructive attention anywhere else. He'd also demonstrably remembered them, bellowing out the names of the Avengers he spotted in a distinctly gleeful tone.

It was, of course, rather a long way from true teamwork, but it was a very promising start. And as good a way as any Loki could thing of to end what had otherwise been a very bad day on a fairly good note.

Chapter Text

Bucky

(_)(_)(_)

There was a part of Bucky that didn't want any part of this. That was, not to put too fine a point on it, utterly terrified of going anywhere NEAR 'those fuckers' anytime in the next couple thousand years. Most of his time in their hands might still be missing from his memory, but he wasn't an idiot. And he wasn't Steve, either, always seeing the best in people. He could take a few wild guesses as to the sorts of horrors 'those fuckers' had perpetrated on him, just based on what little he knew at this point.

And even in the unlikely event of risking being subjected to that again not being a factor, there was still the whole Winter Soldier thing. Bucky didn't exactly trust that to not rear up and bite everyone around him in the ass. Not this soon. Maybe not ever, at least not entirely. Between those two factors, the temptation to sit home or hide in a bunker and wait this out was there.

But a far larger part of Bucky absolutely refused to let Steve go *anywhere*, never mind into a fight (where, as sure as the sun rose, the idiot wouldn't watch his six) without him dogging Steve's heels. Not to mention the part of him that really, really, really wanted to carve 'those fuckers' into bite sized pieces for what they'd done to him. That wanted to listen to *them* scream in agony and beg for mercy. So that temptation to stay home never got beyond a background flicker.

The array of guns and different kinds and calibers of ammo Stark had stashed in the Tower would be worrying, if it wasn't also a superhero clubhouse. Bucky could have stayed in the armory petting the guns for *days*, dithering about which to use because they were all so pretty. Even if it was slightly disconcerting to discover he had an encyclopedic knowledge of almost everything in the room. Apparently, 'those fuckers' had wanted to make sure he knew of and could handle, shoot, and maintain any gun he came across.

There were a few exceptions to his knowledge - all Stark Industries stuff. Specifically, three guns and five types of ammo he had no knowledge of. Bucky figured that meant those items were experimental prototypes of Stark's that had never made it into mass production for some reason. That was where he found the assault rifle/grenade launcher combo. It made his gun-and-explosion loving heart trip a little.

Five minutes with the thing in the range, and Bucky was damn near in love - and had also figured out why it hadn't gone into production. The recoil on the thing, especially in grenade mode, would dislocate or even stress-fracture most soldiers' shoulders. But with his metal-clad arm and shoulder, that wasn't a problem. Recoil aside, it was a thing of beauty and Stark was *never* getting it back. Better still, there was more than one of them. He'd promptly snagged a second one for Steve, since the serum meant Steve'd be able to handle the recoil too. He also grabbed an entire duffel's worth of ammo, both grenades and bullets, for them to share between them.

It took him less than two minutes to convince Steve to try it out, after their little reunion. But then, Bucky knew how to manipulate Steve. Well, most of the time. It didn't always work because Steve was both perceptive and stubborn as all hell. Bucky still had a far better success rate of getting Steve to be sensible than anyone else.

Which, it had to be admitted, hadn't been saying much before the war, or even during it. Once Steve got the bit between his teeth, he was almost impossible to divert. That said, right now Bucky was barely even having to try to get his way because of ... well, the circumstances. He planned to take advantage of it for as long as it lasted.

Steve had always preferred to use his shield back in the war. The thing packed quite a whallop in Steve's hands, between Steve's strength and how tough the metal of the shield was. Add in Steve's ability to bounce the shield off of everything in sight and the shield got downright lethal, making a gun redundant much of the time.

Steve hadn't been shy about using guns when needed though, despite preferring the shield. There'd been times when depending on the shield alone hadn't been practical. Times they were somewhere with little to nothing for Steve to bounce it off of (them in the middle of a cornfield, facing off against Nazi infantry in a trench thirty feet away, rather than HYDRA for a change), or in such cramped confines he couldn't launch it effectively (narrow corridors in HYDRA bunkers, Commandos at their backs and a veritable legion of HYDRA goons swarming them). There'd also been times they'd been under heavy enough fire or up against sufficiently large numbers to make throwing the shield and depriving Steve (and everyone directly behind him) of its impenetrable protection a really bad idea.

And speaking of Bucky's 'reunion' with Steve - the fact Steve had been trembling, just a little? And more than a little watery-eyed? Yeah. That had just added fuel to the 'kill-'em-all' fire. Seriously. Nobody was ever allowed to fuck around with Steve. Ever.

The ride to the target had been ... weird. Bucky'd found himself slipping into that ultra-focused mental state all snipers had when they were behind a scope. He'd fought it at first, half-afraid it was going to lead to trouble, but it hadn't. Oh, the skills he'd learned as the Soldier were there, ready and waiting to be tapped, and that single-minded 'only the mission matters' mindset was lurking in the back of his brain too, but Bucky discovered he could keep it under control, in the context of not attacking his new allies or Steve. He could use the bits he wanted or needed, and leave the rest. At least under these particular circumstances. Whether that would hold once the fighting started, he didn't know.

Bucky'd say this much for Tony. The guy *definitely* knew how to make a hell of an entrance. He'd done it on Alfheim too, even if Bucky had missed some of that. This entrance was a whole hell of a lot more lethal. Not least because it was designed to give the rest of the Avengers a path into the castle. They all piled out, murder and mayhem on their minds. And that's when the problems started.

Because Bucky spent the next few hours bouncing in and out of flashbacks to the war. In retrospect, it really shouldn't have surprised him that that'd happen. Not with Bucky at Steve's left shoulder and Steve wearing the suit. While the modern version was a whole heck of a lot more eye catching than the old one, it was virtually identical in regards to which colors were where, and even had a battle harness of sorts, making it nearly indistinguishable from the original.

Even the Pyro kid was really not helping on the flashback front during their march across the grounds. Bucky had lost track of how many times HYDRA had sicced flamethrower toting assholes on Steve because they were literally the only damn thing that gave Steve pause. HYDRA goons and lots of fire kind of went together in his head because of that.

Though there was definitely stuff that yanked him out of the flashbacks. The terrified screaming and running was definitely different. Oh, HYDRA hadn't been any too happy dealing with the Commandos back in the day, but they hadn't been (literally, in a few cases) pants-wettingly terrified. And the few who had been back then had reserved that for Steve. Now, they mostly lost their shit when they clapped eyes on Bucky in the Winter Soldier getup, which was definitely different.

And more than a little pleasing.

A few, though, didn't lose their shit. Instead, they started yelling things, mostly in languages not English or what Bucky actively remembered of the German and French Gabe had taught the Commandos. Things in languages he understood, but had zero memory of learning, which meant he'd learned them as Soldier. Things that ... well, sort of echoed hollowly in his head. Like they were supposed to mean something (beyond the words themselves), but didn't. It wasn't until about the third time that happened that Bucky figured out what the hell was going on.

They were code words of some sort, intended to control HYDRA's mindless assassin. For a second or two, Bucky didn't understand why the codes weren't working, but then he remembered Frigga's visit. If there was anyone that he'd met since Loki and Thor hauled him into the Tower that could de-bug his brain and ensure he couldn't be 'reacquired' by dint of code words, it'd be her.

Bucky was going to have to remember to thank her if he ever saw her again. Or pass on thanks with one of her sons. In the meantime, he just gave a rusty chuckle and taunted the idiot who'd yelled the latest attempt at getting their assassin back in Russian. The horrified, terrified look and panicked back-pedaling that produced was absolutely hysterical.

The flashbacks, of course, were anything but. The worst of it was that even if Bucky had wanted to say something, he couldn't. As hard as talking had proved to be once he'd started to remember himself, going back into the Soldier-esque frame of mind made it about ten times harder, all but gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth (the muzzle? *really didn't help*). The one taunt aside, he said maybe three words the entire time they were fighting, all three alerting Steve to a danger that Bucky couldn't shoot thanks to bad angles, nor reach to deal with physically.

Worse, a few of the flashbacks weren't of the war. They were ... well, from after. One was bad enough that the others actually noticed him reacting, even if they misinterpreted it. Bucky was as sure as he could be that he'd never been in this castle before, but for half a second there, one of the doors they'd been about to kick down had abruptly become a door to something (he had no idea what) that terrified the ever loving hell out of him.

He'd say this much for the Avengers. He'd barely had time to register the fact he was scared to death before they were crowding him away from the door, getting it out of his line of sight entirely as quickly as they could without triggering his fighting instincts. Once they'd stopped moving, Steve pushed his cowl off and took the muzzle off of Bucky, obviously attempting to make things as unlike they would have been for Soldier as he could, given the circumstances.

"Easy, Buck. Just breathe, ok?" Steve said, then gave a bit of a grin. "Like you always used to tell me, when my asthma acted up. Deep and slow as you can in. Slow out."

Bucky, despite the circumstances, had grinned right back at Steve for the irony. He'd lost count of the times he'd talked Steve through an asthma attack over the years. It took a minute or two, but Bucky managed to calm back down - though whether it was the breathing, or having Steve in his face or both that helped the most he didn't have a clue.

Once everything was said and done, they stacked the surviving HYDRA assholes like so much cordwood in the back of the jet and hauled them - with the exception of the von Struckers, whom Tony and Steve wanted to 'talk to' personally - to SHIELD.

Fury was entertaining as hell. He hadn't seemed quite sure whether to be pissed right the hell off at the Avengers pulling this stunt or thrilled to his toes to have people to interrogate about the threat they posed to the world.

And that was after he went ash grey at the sight of Bucky.

There'd been a brief discussion on the way to whatever SHIELD base it was they'd invaded with their load of HYDRA goons. It hadn't so much been a question of whether or not to reveal Bucky's existence and unwilling identity as the Soldier, but when and how. There was absolutely no way to hide Bucky's existence permanently. Not with the prevalence of cameras and recording equipment in this day and age. Someone, somewhere, would get photographic or video proof of his existence that Jarvis wouldn't be able to wipe out before more people saw said evidence.

According to Tony. Pepper already had the Stark Industries legal team all over the whole thing, ready able and willing to tear to pieces anyone that decided they were going to be assholes. Notifying Fury was, evidently, the first step in going public.

"Mostly." Tony said. "Because if we don't tell him first, he'll throw a tantrum and we'll have to waste a lot of time and effort calming his tits for him."

They'd spent roughly an hour explaining things (as regarded Bucky) to Fury. Bucky was very aware of the fact that the entire time, the Avengers surrounded him, ensuring nothing and no one could reach him without getting through them first. Bucky appreciated the gesture because there were a whole lot of hands hovering near or actually clutching weapons. Bucky made sure to keep his body language as loose and nonthreatening as he was currently capable of. Which wasn't saying much, because combat readiness had been trained into his muscle, bone, and sinew to the point he didn't have to think about it (for obvious reasons). He'd mostly forgotten how to *not* look like he was ready, able, and willing to kill a person on a second's notice.

Finally though, they returned to the Tower. The von Struckers were stashed in the cages in the basement. Because none of them were enhanced the way Yelena had been, they wouldn't be able to escape. Or so said Tony, and Bucky was willing to believe him, as he knew what had gone into the construction of the area, and what defenses the Tower had, and Bucky mostly didn't (though he'd cottoned on to a thing or two).

Chapter Text

Pepper and Tony

(_)(_)(_)

Tony's hands were shaking.

That was the first thing Pepper noticed when the Avengers piled back into the Tower and stripped out of their combat gear. And it was what she focused almost all her attention on. Because Tony's hands *never* shook. Tony had extremely steady hands. He had to, in order to do the extremely fine work he did on various electronics. Even when he'd been literally only days from dying, his hands had remained steady. So his hands shaking? Was basically a sign of the apocalypse. Or more likely, extreme emotional upset. Very extreme, given (again) he'd been *dying* and hadn't had that happen.

She was (for once) only peripherally aware of the rest of the Avengers, and of the 'support squad' (for lack of a better name for the group of people who didn't go out and fight) swinging into gear. The von Struckers got tossed in the basement cells, she knew, but other than that, for once she didn't bother trying to keep track of anyone or anything. Jarvis would fill her in later. Right now, she needed to deal with Tony. Find out what the hell had happened that had him so ... angry? Upset? whatever ... that *his hands were shaking*.

By the time she got them into the bedroom of the penthouse, Pepper was beyond concerned and well into (quietly) terrified territory. Because Tony *wasn't talking* and was being very, very passive verging on almost submissive. Pepper had literally never seen him like this. Not talking? Was unbelievably rare, but it had happened a time or two. Passive verging on submissive? Had never happened. Ever. Hell, until now, Pepper had been pretty sure Tony didn't even know the words 'passive' and 'submissive' existed. She was pretty damn sure he'd come out of the womb a larger than life aggressive extrovert.

She got him out of the skin suit he wore under the suit when he had the luxury of knowing beforehand he was going into a fight. She honestly had *no idea* how Tony managed when he was forced into the suit in normal clothes. That had to bunch and twist in unfortunate places and just generally be extremely uncomfortable. Then she got him into boxers and one of his old T-shirts, because even with her, he could barely tolerate having the arc reactor exposed.

And that was under ideal circumstances. Right now was so far from ideal circumstances it was almost laughable, so Pepper wasn't about to take any chances with making things worse. Which meant that aside from keeping the arc reactor covered, she was making sure to stay in his line of sight and talking softly as she worked. It was times like this that she was both deeply grateful for, and incredibly humbled by the fact Tony trusted her as much as he did.

She got them both on the bed, and Tony squirmed down until he was resting his head on her stomach. Pepper smiled as she took the hint and started working her fingers through Tony's hair, paying no mind to the sweat and grime (she'd done this with his hair in *far* worse condition than this). At least he wasn't to a point where he couldn't find ways to get what he needed/wanted.

It took surprisingly little time for Tony to fall asleep. Unfortunately, his sleep was anything but easy. Pepper had gotten used to the nightmares pretty fast, once they'd started sleeping in the same bed. Tony had them pretty regularly, unless he wore himself to the point he fell asleep on his keyboard/slumped over whatever he'd been working on. That said, he generally *didn't* catapult out of the bed, flailing wildly in what Pepper knew was an attempt to fight off attackers - even if she *still* didn't know all the details of what had happened in that god forsaken cave. She'd been able to put a few things together, thanks to nightmares like this, and the few things Tony had said but not everything.

Pepper managed to avoid getting accidentally hit, and rolled off the bed in the opposite direction that Tony had gone. She'd learned from experience that until he was fully awake and aware, getting in range of Tony when he was like this would end in bruises and self-recriminations (the former hers, the latter both of theirs).

Fortunately, her and/or Jarvis talking got Tony fully awake and in the here and now pretty darn quickly. Probably because she'd only been involved at the very end of Stane's insanity (and had actively been trying to help Tony), and Jarvis' involvement had been the fact he *couldn't* talk to Tony.

Pepper had a feeling Rhodey would not be so fortunate, if he was ever around for one of Tony's nightmares, thanks to his having been in the convoy when it was attacked. Actually, it was more than a feeling. She'd heard Tony call out for him quite a few times. Though she had a feeling she would be added to the 'not able to pull Tony back' list if he ever found out how close she'd been to being killed by Stane before Tony had arrived in his suit. Which would be part of why she'd never told him.

(_)(_)(_)

Tony had known, when he'd made the decision to keep (and improve) the aural paralyzer that if the day ever came that he'd have to use the damn thing, he wouldn't like it. He was, however, far too pragmatic to dispose of such an effective weapon, even when the ability to deploy it would be limited, if non-combatant casualties were to be avoided.

Unfortunately, he'd severely underestimated how badly using the damn thing would affect him. He'd barely managed to hold it together with the team, and had been more vicious than was really necessary or warranted with Fury. After that, he'd been concentrating so hard on keeping the poison he wanted to spew behind his teeth he'd more or less gone mute. By the time the team had split up to hang out with their 'people' even Steve had been giving him the side-eye. Given how worked up, strung out, and concentrated on Bucky Steve was, that was *saying something*.

The nightmare had been sadly predictable. As was the fact that, even fully awake now, and back to cuddling with Pepper, he was all but choking on the smell of dry, dusty cave, molten metal and the stench of too many bodies too long in a confined space (the terrorists hadn't been too concerned about hygiene - theirs or his and Yinsen's). Not to mention the unforgettable phantom sensation of water in his nose and down his throat that made him want to cough and gag, combined with being electrocuted as the wires to the battery that he'd started out with got wet.

Yeah, no fucking wonder he'd made miniaturizing the arc reactor a priority. At least then, when he got waterboarded, he wasn't getting electrocuted as well. That it would have the ability to power something else as well as the electromagnet in his chest had *almost* been beside the point. Almost.

God bless Pepper, though. Seriously, he wasn't sure what the hell he'd do if she ever walked out of his life. Even before the relationship stuff had become a factor, he'dve been lost as fuck without her. He would never, ever get over the fact that she had, of her own free will, walked into a relationship with him, despite knowing (better than anyone except Jarvis and Rhodey) just how much of a mess he was.

Had he mentioned he tended to get a little maudlin and sentimental in the wake of nightmares and flashbacks? Tony gave himself a sharp mental smack and told himself to get his shit together. Much as he loved her, mooning over Pepper was seriously conduct unbecoming a Stark.

"So." He said, aiming for his usual insouciance and (unfortunately) not quite making it. "That was fun."

Pepper, bless her heart, pretended to not notice that he was not exactly on an even keel yet. "What? Storming the castle? Literally?" She grinned at him. "You guys had fun and you know it."

Tony laughed. "Actually, yes. Yes we did." Despite the damn paralyzer. "I will have to show you some highlight reels, Pep, because seriously. At least three HYDRA goons literally pissed themselves in the face of Cap and Bucky. You can't *buy* that sort of entertainment. And I'm pretty sure Loki had more fun than was legal, to boot. He had some of the downed goons running around looking like zombies, for god's sake."

That made Pepper laugh. "Zombies? Seriously?"

"Not actual zombies, no." Tony said, pretending disappointment. "He just made it look like they were. There was a *lot* of running and screaming going on thanks to them, let me tell you."

"I can well imagine." Pepper said.

"Hulk had fun, too. And didn't even look at any of the team cross-eyed. Actually seemed thrilled to see us." Tony said. "Which I am totally 'I told you so'ing at Bruce, because Bruce was still being a doubting Thomas about Hulk."

(_)(_)(_)

Pepper play-scowled at Tony. "Give Bruce time, Tony, before you start with the 'I told you so's'. He's having to overturn almost a decade of thinking regarding Hulk."

She was relieved Tony seemed to be mostly back to normal. The teasing and rambling commentary rang a tiny bit hollow still, but it was a damn sight better than the silence. She knew better than to ask what the heck had happened yet. It might be days or even weeks before she'd get anything out of him. She briefly considered asking the other Avengers but dismissed it. For one thing, they might not have seen or heard what set Tony off - not to mention that even if they had seen or heard it, they might not have realized it was setting Tony off, with him able to hide behind the Iron Man mask. For another thing ... it struck her as just a bad idea in general.

"You're going to have to show me Fury's reaction to Bucky too." She reminded.

She had no problem at all with Fury getting (repeatedly) knocked on his ass. She (and, she knew, Tony) was still holding a grudge over the whole Vanko/new element for the reactor fiasco. Pepper had been deeply, deeply tempted to find a way to sue Fury for every penny he had to his name, then go after SHIELD itself. Which, in retrospect, she kind of wished she'd done, because they might have found the paperwork regarding SHIELD a year ago and avoided Fury's manipulative assholery as it had been aimed at Steve (she'd heard *all about* that snafu) at the very least.

Granted, SHIELD served a purpose. A vital one, even. Because there *were* times when it became necessary to act for the common good, politics be damned. SHIELD could, for instance, go in and rescue people from multiple nations who were in a hostage situation while their governments were still spouting rhetoric at each other. Or, as in the situation they were currently facing, SHIELD could act to defend Earth while the various governments were deciding whether or not they were willing to work together even in the face of mutual annihilation if they didn't get their acts together.

That said, if his actions as regarded Tony were any indication, Pepper felt that Fury did as much harm as he did good - maybe even more harm than good. Yes, sometimes you had to manipulate people to get them to do the right thing - she did it *all the time* in board meetings, for goodness' sake, she couldn't exactly throw stones in that regard. Fury, though, manipulated at times and in ways that weren't necessary. Tony had been *dying*. If Fury had bothered to offer the help openly, no strings or manipulation attached, Tony would have accepted. And let's not speak of the way he first introduced himself to Tony. Pepper would never forgive him that bullshit.

Worse, if he'd bothered to consult anyone, Pepper would have been able to tell Fury that trying to dominate and control Tony (when he didn't know and trust you, as he did Pepper) in any way, shape, or form would only get him the worst parts of Tony. Fury had, after that stunt, been met with the wall that was Tony at his arrogant, irritating, and obstructive worst.

There was, maybe, a reason she hadn't given Fury the boot three seconds after SI's ownership of SHIELD had been confirmed. It was about damn time Fury knew what it felt like to dance at the end of someone else's leash. At that, she and Tony were being much nicer about it than Fury had been. A few operatives involved in semi-questionable endeavors had been pulled out by Jarvis, but that and dropping the bombshell that was Bucky with no warning were pretty much the limit of their paybacks for Fury's assholery.

Tony grinned at her, the wide, toothy sharks-head grin he got whenever he got one up on an opponent. "God, yes, that was fucking fantastic. I did not know people could turn that color, seriously. Jarvis, let it play, would you? I know you were recording via the suit."

"Of course, sir." Jarvis said, and there was a quiet relief in his voice at having something to do in the face of Tony's recent distress.

Jarvis had evidently taken that directive as permission to show highlights of the fight as well. And it was, indeed, hilarious watching the goons freak out. Though she didn't exactly blame them for being scared literally pissless of Steve and Bucky. The looks on their faces had been virtually identical - and utterly, completely, mercilessly murderous. Pepper hadn't been able to prevent a spike of fear, for goodness' sake, and she was watching a *video* well after the fact, not to mention being in absolutely no danger from either man.

She laughed until she cried, though, watching the aftermath of the stunts Loki had pulled. Tony did too, as he apparently only now caught on to the fact that the HYDRA goons' bullets had somehow become paintballs.

"Good lord, but did they go to the Stormtrooper Academy?" Pepper asked, indicating the HYDRA goons' horrific aim. "Not that I'm complaining because it means they missed all of you by about a mile, but still. It's ridiculous."

Tony had his head cocked at the video. "I think maybe Loki did something there, too. I don't remember their aim being that bad at the beginning, and it seemed to get progressively worse. At the time, I chalked it up to Steve and Bucky and the zombies, but that doesn't explain all of it."

"You'll have to ask later." Pepper said. "Or I will, since I'm more likely to remember."

Tony pouted at her for that comment.

"It could be useful later, if he's able to do that on a wider scale." Pepper continued, ignoring Tony's expression.

"We'd have to be careful about collateral damage." Tony said. "That wasn't a factor at all, this time, as there was nothing to hit other than us or HYDRA goons and gear."

"Hmmm, good point." Pepper admitted. "Still, worth asking about."

Chapter Text

Fury

(_)(_)(_)

People who weren't in the so-called 'spy' business generally had a lot of ideas about what being a real intelligence operative was, what they did, and so on. They were even right with some of it. But most of it, they missed by a mile. Though it had to be said that them missing the mark wasn't all their fault. Hollywood did love to make the world Fury lived in all kinds of crazy in films. The sensible folks were the ones that realized there was a discrepancy between Hollywood dramatics and real life, but even then, there was one thing that most people didn't realize was an absolute necessity when it came to being an intelligence agency operative of any stripe.

You had to know yourself. You had to know your strengths and weaknesses, both large and small. Oh, you could survive in the intelligence agency world for a time without that, or with a less than complete knowledge - especially if you only ever rode a desk or were involved in a fairly menial capacity that did not involve interacting with anyone outside the agency. But if you were a field agent, sooner or later - usually sooner - you'd get your ass handed to you - if you were lucky, and if you weren't, you'd be dead. If you were really unlucky, a *lot* of people would die because you fucked up, if you didn't know yourself and how to take advantage of or work around your strengths and weaknesses. And you definitely, absolutely did not make it to the top of the heap.

So Fury? Knew he was a paranoid, manipulative bastard who saw the worst in people. That he was more than a little bit of a control freak who had zero tolerance for people who didn't toe his line. Hence his loathing of Barton and Stark, both of whom were inveterate wild cards that not even the people they trusted most could control or predict fully. It really hadn't helped that in Barton's case, he'd done his level best to hospitalize half the handlers in SHIELD when he was first brought in.

That was also why Fury had a marked preference for Romanov. Despite the fact that she had gone rogue and meshed so well with Barton, she rarely questioned her bosses or went off-script on an op. Doing otherwise had largely been beaten out of her by the people who had originally trained her, and Fury wasn't shy about taking advantage of that when he could. She did have her limits - things she wouldn't do and that trying to force her into doing generally resulted in pain and bloodshed, none of it hers. Since those limits were along the lines of child murder and slaughtering innocent civilians, it wasn't like Fury had ever even had to consider pushing her limits. Which Fury was realist enough to admit was a damn good thing, because not even he stood a chance against the Black Widow if she decided he needed to die.

But for all the problems Fury's personality could cause, he also knew how to use it to get what he wanted.

He'd known since before he took the Director's chair that SHIELD had double agents in its ranks. It was the nature of the beast - you'd be hard-put to find an intelligence agency anywhere around the world that didn't have at least one double agent in its ranks. That said, such double agents were usually known and watched, but otherwise left alone under the principle of 'better the devil you know'. Until they became a serious liability, it was just easier and simpler to leave double agents where they were, rather than removing them and having to find their replacement a year or five down the road. Too, with known double agents, you could plant false information and make other agencies chase their tails, which could and did make ops easier when SHIELD had to play in the sandbox of the more twitchy intelligence agencies.

The problem had been that, while Fury had been able to mark several double agents, he hadn't been able to figure out who the hell some of them were reporting back to. Intelligence agencies inevitably developed a predictable pattern for reporting. Whether it was that the report was filtered through X number of dummy servers or put into Y cypher, there was always a pattern that, if you paid attention, allowed you to figure out who an agent reported to. Even when changes were made to reporting procedure, they were almost always variations on the old pattern. Radical changes in reporting procedures were generally limited to full-on war *after* it was discovered the other guy could read the reports. Even then, disseminating and teaching the new method took time and effort, and it could be years before a totally new pattern got put into full effect.

So the new, unknown pattern Fury had picked up on? Well, at first, he'd put it down to such a change of procedure and had waited it out, trying to trace it back to its origin. Only ... he never found an origin, the usual suspects were all accounted for, and none of them went quiet (indicating everyone had successfully switched over to the new method). Which meant there was a new player on the field. One that was keeping its head down so successfully that Fury couldn't find anything on them. Worse, Fury rather quickly figured out SHIELD wasn't the only intelligence agency with the unknown double agents, and no one was having any more success figuring out who they reported to than SHIELD was. That made him twitchy. It had also made him less and less inclined to trust half his own people to throw their weight behind a problem if something big hit.

That's when he got the idea for the Avengers. It helped that super - human problems had been increasing. People with abilities that no normal person could deal with were popping up all over the place and causing problems. Having a super - powered response team to deal with such incidents just made sense.

Figuring out who to put on that team had been ... quite the exercise. Romanov had been the first to go on the list, which unfortunately put Barton on it, since she'd made it plain from day one she would only partner with him. And that also put Coulson in charge of the group, because he was the only one who wasn't scared pissless of Romanov (other than Fury) and who had a chance in hell of controlling Barton. And again, Coulson was the only handler Romanov would work with. Stark had been slated from the start to be the team's tech-head. Which had changed after Afghanistan to him being on the team (despite Fury not really wanting him there) since the suit made it possible.

And Tony? Had been a lynchpin to Fury's plans for the team. Because, with SHIELD compromised by an unknown source - actually, with SHIELD being compromised period, Fury did not want the Avengers answering to SHIELD. Too great a risk the Avengers would be manipulated into doing something to benefit the agenda of one nation (or worse, terrorist group) or another. Which needed to not happen if they were to ever be seen as *global* defenders. Nor, god forbid, did he want the team as the WSC's lapdog. That just had disaster written all over it.

Fury had known that if he poked Tony in the right spots, Tony would, in effect, take his 'blocks' and go home. Where the 'blocks' were the Avengers. The man certainly had the money and contacts to keep the Avengers afloat and defending the world. And he'd responded beautifully to Fury's poking.

Still, for all of that, Fury had been blindsided by a few things. Like Stark owning SHIELD. That, he had not seen coming. Though in retrospect, it made a certain degree of sense. Howard and various members of the Commandos had spent years searching for Rogers, building up quite a considerable range of contacts and resources in the process. SHIELD itself had not been born until after Howard's death. Senator Pierce, then a much lower ranked government official, had been instrumental in its formation, alongside a number of others.

Fury had been one of the first recruits to the newly formed (so he had thought) government agency. He had, at the time, been a rather wet behind the ears, gung-ho wide-eyed innocent compared to his current state. It had never occurred to him that there might have been some underhanded shenanigans going on where the formation of SHIELD had been concerned. By the time he'd made Director (just two years before Barton's 'recruitment'), there had been no trace of anything odd anywhere Fury had clearance to look - and in several places he'd had to sneak into due to lack of clearance. While he hadn't been looking for proof of SHIELD's legitimacy at any point, proof to the contrary that he managed to stumble over would have made a hell of an impression.

Fury had, since the revelation, made it a point to poke about in Senator Pierce's files. He had, from the beginning, been SHIELD's staunchest proponent. If anyone knew its formation as a government intelligence agency was not legal, it would be him. And Fury dearly wanted to know what the deal was there.

In the meantime, he had to deal with the Avengers, and the migraines they were giving him by proxy. Because seriously. Yes, establishing contact and, if at all possible, friendly relations with the rest of the so-called Realms was not only a good thing but absolutely necessary. Fury knew it, and everyone with even a modicum of sense who'd seen the Chitauri attack (whether in person or on TV) knew it. Sadly, governments were largely run by self-aggrandizing morons of the first order. A bunch of 'freaks' speaking for the planet was NOT going to go over well. Practically every country around the globe was going to have fits when word got out. On top of the fits they were *already* having over the invasion.

To put it bluntly, Fury had had his hands full keeping fingers off launch buttons and talking some modicum of sense into folks via the various SHIELD agents around the globe over the last month. He had very much *not* appreciated the Avengers disappearing the way they had. Nor finding out WELL after the fact that Rogers and Stark had gone on a tour of the Realms.

He'd had to recover from his near heart-attack at their extremely, extremely unexpected new Avenger first. He was honestly shocked that the bastard hadn't been shot full of holes by the handful of folks on the carrier who believed that the Winter Soldier existed and had heard about the metal arm - pretty much the only identifying marker to ever successfully be disseminated through the intelligence community by those few lucky bastards that had survived an encounter with the Soldier.

Finding out the Soldier was James Barnes went an *extremely* long way in explaining why the Avengers had gone off the reservation and pulverized a Bavarian castle. The Avengers had defied all of Fury's expectations by becoming a surprisingly tightly woven unit in such a short time. Given the various personalities on the team, of course they would leap to avenge a wrong done one of their own. And it didn't get much worse than torturing, mindwiping, and forcing Captain Fucking America's best friend into trying to *kill* Captain America. No, Rogers hadn't been Barnes' first target, but Fury knew damn well Rogers was on the list. And so had Rogers and the other Avengers.

Fury did not envy the sorry sons of a bitches the beatdown they had coming at them, because the Avengers weren't going to stop at grinding one castle into so much gravel. And Fury was not shitass stupid enough to even *think* about trying to tell them to stop. Actually, he was going to be cheering them on, because he was pretty fucking sure the Avengers had stumbled onto the source of the double agents whose true bosses had been a mystery.

Fucking HYDRA. Jesus fucking Christ. Yeah, Fury was more than happy to let the Avengers burn those bastards to the ground, if they could. They'd have a better chance at it than anyone else would. While they did, Fury would be watching his people like a hawk, and anyone getting twitchy was going to find themselves in a very deep, dark hole right quick until they proved beyond a shadow of a doubt they weren't HYDRA. Fury might be willing to tolerate double agents from legitimate government intelligence agencies, but he was *not* going to tolerate even one of those buttfuck crazy HYDRA bastards anywhere near SHIELD. Just hell no.

So Fury had some housecleaning to do. That the Avengers, god love them, were going to help with without even stepping a foot on SHIELD property. There'd actually been a twitcher already - one of the 'unknown' double agents reacting to Barnes stomping around on the Helicarrier. Fury was just waiting for the idiot to go off-shift before nabbing them. He didn't want anyone getting anymore warning of the housecleaning than could be avoided, so there weren't going to be any dramatic confrontations in the middle of the bridge or any such nonsense unless there was no way to avoid such a thing.

Chapter Text

Sam

(_)(_)(_)

They'd barely gotten a newly-shrunk Banner back on the jet before Sam started mentally switching from soldier mode to counselor mode. It was kind of hard not to. Not with literally half the team either looking very pale and/or grim, having gone silent, sounding strange and/or excessively snappish, or some other indicator of emotional distress. And definitely not when he knew for absolute certain that Barnes at least had had a panic attack or flashback. It was hard to tell which, with him not talking much, but it really didn't matter which, in the final analysis. It just mattered that he'd very clearly had a major problem.

Sam still didn't know why Stark had gone weird or what exactly the problem was, but even through the speakers of his suit, Stark sounded 'off'. Unfortunately, Stark stayed in the suit and flew escort, making talking to him all but impossible. They had the capability for private conversations on the comms of course, but that sort of conversation wasn't one Sam was willing to take chances with someone overhearing. The team members themselves would never stoop to trying to break into a private conversation or using something they accidentally overheard against a fellow team member. Sam *did not* put such a thing past anyone else who might be monitoring the airwaves, however.

The good news was that Rogers was looking a little less murderous around the edges. The bad news was that he only looked a *little* less murderous. He kept giving the von Strucker triad looks that made every hair on Sam's body stand on end. Rogers had also planted himself between Barnes and the three, his body language fairly screaming 'Give me an excuse to beat you bloody'. It probably wasn't helping Rogers' mood any that Barnes was still seriously pale and looked very much like he wanted to claw the Winter Soldier uniform off himself. In point of fact, Barnes kept tugging at some of the straps in a way that made Sam pretty sure Barnes wasn't even aware he was doing it.

Note to self. Make sure to mention getting a new uniform for Barnes before they went on the next HYDRA raid. (Sam wasn't dumb enough to think this would be the only one). Sam hadn't been a fan of the idea of Barnes going on this raid in the Soldier getup in the first place. He understood that Barnes had, for one, not had any other readily available options and two, had wanted to send a really fucking clear message to HYDRA. That said, Sam had been aware of the potential for trouble that came with wearing that shit.

Romanov was harder to read than most of the others, but even she was looking a little pinched around the eyes and sounding ... well, flatter would be the best word for it ... than Sam had yet heard her be. If Sam had her pegged right, that put her on about the same level of distress as Stark. It wasn't all that surprising, given she had apparently been in HYDRA hands at some point, to have known the Soldier. Even if she hadn't known his true identity at the time. Dealing with the bastards who had likely had a role in her situation was bound to be uncomfortable at best.

Logan was looking rather grumpier, growlier, and twitchier than Sam liked. Again, not all that unexpected, given that Logan had clearly been in inimical hands sometime pre-amnesia. Because seriously. Sam didn't know all that much about mutants and mutations, but he seriously doubted that the metal on Logan's bones was a natural part of his mutation. Also ... and if Sam was thinking this, Logan *had* to be ... what if it had ultimately been HYDRA that was responsible for Logan's situation? Given HYDRA was evidently responsible for Romanov and her fellow Widows, as well as Soldier, it was not beyond the realm of possibility.

Logan did, however, seem to be aware he was not in the best of moods to be dealing with people. He'd taken himself off to a corner of the jet and was doing his damndest to ignore everyone except for Allerdyce. Who was also looking a little pale and twitchy, but not nearly as bad as the others. Given Allerdyce's mutation, Sam figured it was a safe bet that flaming anywhere near people was what had set the kid off.

Just the *idea* of possibly burning or worse, cooking people alive should be enough to make anyone with any morals whatever twitchy at the very least. Given that, from what Sam understood, mutations were almost never under perfect control when they first manifested, the odds that Allerdyce had burned someone inadvertently (at the very least) early on were insanely high. And having had that happen would make anyone with any morals whatever even twitchier. And Allerdyce definitely had morals. He was pissed off at the world, and the potential for him going off the deep end was there, but he hadn't. Better still, the likelihood of him going off the deep end had dropped considerably since he came to the Tower. Sam had no idea what the hell the deal had been at Xavier's, but it was clear that John was a hell of a lot happier at the Tower.

Sam was just grateful that Fury seemed to pick up on the fact that the Avengers were kind of on a hair trigger and didn't give anyone any shit. Though it was clear he desperately wanted to, if the look on his face was any indication. Well, the look on his face *after* he got over the heart attack that was the Winter Soldier. That had been kind of amusing, even to Sam, who didn't really have any beef with Fury, which some of the other Avengers clearly did.

When they finally got back to the Tower, Sam hung back just a bit, watching. He'd clearly not been the only one worried about the Avengers, because the 'support squad' was out in force. Potts had Stark herded off of the common floors about three seconds after he was out of the suit. Coulson and Barton tag-teamed Romanov (who was clearly humoring them) just as fast, and disappeared down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

"Supper will be here in twenty minutes!" Was Lewis's bellowed contribution, clearly trying to make sure she was heard by the gang as they split up.

Though, that done, she quickly joined Foster and Thor to tag-team Loki. Sam wasn't sure Loki was upset - he'd very clearly had a lot of fun on the raid - but Loki was also, well, Loki. Sam wasn't about to trust that he would be able to tell when someone who had been hailed as 'Silvertongue' was upset but hiding it until he'd gotten to know Loki a whole heck of a lot better.

Ross hustled over to half-drag Banner off to their floor. Banner didn't seem to be in any kind of emotional distress, thankfully. That said, the transformation clearly did a number on him physically. If Sam didn't know better, he'd think Banner was drunk, between Banner slurring his words and the difficulty he was having keeping his feet under him.

Logan retreated to his own floor with Allerdyce and Rogue hot on his heels. Sam made a mental note to check in on them later. Frankly, right now, those two were a lot less of a concern than Rogers and Barnes. Logan clearly had at least a partial handle on how to deal when shit hit the fan. Rogers and Barnes on the other hand, didn't have a clue. Worse, both were ... well, in really bad places ... and inclined to try to support each other and ignore their own problems. Worst of all, they didn't really have a pre-existing 'support squad' that they knew and trusted to help them. Yeah. Sam was going to start there.

"I'm thinking." Sam said as he followed the pair. "That once we get that shit off you, Barnes, we head for the roof and burn it. Whadda you think?"

Barnes half-scowled at him, the expression more confusion than anger, then turned to Rogers, clearly deferring to him and his decision.

"That." Rogers said on a growl. "Sounds like the best idea I've heard all day."

Unfortunately, that seemed to have been the end of Barnes' ability to deal. By the time the three of them had gotten to Rogers's floor, Barnes had shut down. His expression had gone completely blank and he was no longer acting on his own recognizance nor reacting to anything that happened around him.

Which, of course, upset Rogers more than he already had been. Sam ended up grateful that he had come along because Rogers didn't seem to be able to order Barnes around. He'd start to, then get a kicked puppy look on his face and peter off into silence before his expression went super-pissed (not at Barnes, Sam knew, but at the damage that had been done to him). Unfortunately, orders were the only thing Barnes was responding to now that he'd shut down.

Fortunately, Sam didn't have any compunctions about giving Barnes orders. There'd come a time when they'd have to wean him off of needing them of course, but that time wouldn't be for quite a while yet. Sam was careful to keep the two men in line-of-sight of each other while he gave Barnes the necessary orders. The team had pretty much had to pry the two of them away from each other by main force since Barnes had been brought into the Tower. Even shut down the way he currently was, Barnes sort of gravitated towards Rogers. Sam didn't want to make the situation worse by separating them.

It was the kind of shit that both broke Sam's heart and gave him hope that Barnes would eventually recover fully. And also worried the ever loving hell out of Sam, because god forbid something happened to Rogers before Barnes climbed all the way out of the hole he'd been thrown into. Sam had a bad feeling they'd lose Barnes. Maybe not to suicide, but Sam had a bad feeling Barnes would simply shut down and refuse to come back out of it.

They'd already seen what Rogers would do if he lost Barnes. Not technically a suicide, but it had been the next best thing. And that had been before Rogers lost literally everything and everyone he'd ever known. Sam had zero doubts that Rogers would find a similar solution if he lost Barnes again.

Lewis, bless her, arranged for everyone's food to be sent to their floors once it was ready. Very wise move, given that pretty much no one was in a mood to be social. Of course, the meal just added fuel to Rogers' fire because Barnes needed to be ordered to eat.

Yeah, HYDRA was in *so much trouble*. Seriously. Sam gave it two, three days max before Rogers insisted on kicking more HYDRA ass. At least Rogers was managing to vent his anger on a completely acceptable target rather than innocent bystanders.

After dinner, Sam sat Rogers down (with Barnes on the other side of the room) and did his best to get the man talking. Not that it worked terribly well. Rogers was nothing if not stubborn as all hell. It probably didn't help that back in his day the mental health fields had had ... rather iffy reputations at best. With 'therapies' that ran the gamut from whacky to outright torture and the cultural beliefs regarding emotional expression and mental health at the time, it was hardly surprising.

Sam gave Rogers credit for not mocking the shit out of the modern mental health fields, but Rogers was still clearly dubious about making *use* of the non-medicine end of the mental health fields. Rogers got a pass on ignoring the medicine end, given that thanks to the serum, dosing Rogers with *any* medication was tricky as hell at best, and impossible at worst.

Fortunately, Sam did have an answer for Rogers' dubiousness about official 'treatment'. Because it was one thing to go to a therapist, and another entirely to talk to a buddy. That said buddy just so happened to be a counselor and could give good advice on how to deal with the shit that was raining down on Rogers' head was ... beside the point.

By which Sam meant that he was very deliberately not reminding Rogers about his counselor cred. He figured Rogers would be far more comfortable talking to a fellow soldier, and was deliberately presenting himself as such as much as he could (thankfully, Sam truly was both a fellow soldier and a qualified counselor, so it wasn't like he was lying to Rogers). Sadly, they were still basically strangers, so Rogers wasn't really up for trusting Sam with all that much. Good thing Sam had a lot of patience.

Though he was going to have to start remembering to think of folks by their first names. Sam had got into the habit of using peoples' last names when he was thinking of them in a counseling capacity, to make the differentiation between 'buddy' and 'counselor' more clear in his own head. This gig with the Avengers was hardly the first time he'd counseled people he fought alongside, after all. For whatever reason - possibly because of just how screwed up the Avengers were - Sam had been thinking of them solely by their last names, so he needed to change that.

Chapter Text

HYDRA

(_)(_)(_)

To say that HYDRA got the message that Steve and Bucky wanted to deliver was vastly understating the case.

While the Avengers had gone out of their way to capture as many people - and as much information - as they possibly could, they didn't catch everyone - or everything. The chaos of battle - especially when said battle included the sorts of spells Loki had been throwing around - ensured that some of those who'd been fighting were missed.

Hanz did not move until a good fifteen minutes after the Avengers left on their plane. This was both because he wanted to wait and make sure that they would stay gone - and because it took him that long to gather his strength.

Hanz had been one of the men sent to battle the Avengers outside the castle. It had proven to be a singularly, unexpectedly difficult task. He and many of his compatriots had fallen under the initial barrage. By some miracle of the gods, while Hanz had taken several bullets, none had hit anything vital to life, and he'd been able to crawl behind some hunks of stone that had been knocked off the castle in those first moments.

Which had ended up saving his life a second time. He'd been on the edge of whatever it was Iron Man had done to paralyze people, but because he'd been hidden by the debris, he had not been found. He'd been helpless to do anything but lie there and listen to the battle even after the paralysis had worn off.

It never even entered his mind to reveal himself and throw himself on the mercy of the Avengers. Even had HYDRA allowed such a thing, Hanz had all but been raised with the knowledge that Captain America was *the* enemy of HYDRA. He would show no mercy to any of them.

Once Hanz was sure the Avengers were gone, he began the extremely painful process of patching himself up. He had to stop and rest fairly frequently, both because the pain was excruciating, and because the blood loss made him woozy and weak.

Sheer desperation got him to his feet. He knew he would die if he did not get proper treatment, and fairly soon. The bullets might not have killed him immediately, but at the very least, the continued blood loss would. And while Hanz was, by then, quite sure that nothing truly vital to life had been damaged badly, that didn't mean something hadn't been nicked and was slowly bleeding or releasing unfortunate things into his body.

The castle's courtyard was a wasteland of badly damaged bits of weapons, burnt out (and in a couple cases, still burning) vehicles, and debris.

The castle itself? Was *gone*. Literally all that was left was a smoking hole in the ground. There was enough ash, smoke, and stone dust in the air to make breathing a trial and the trees at the edge of the clearing around the castle were reduced to vague smudges.

For a horrified moment, Hanz faced the very real probability of being the only survivor. Then, through the haze, he caught sight of someone stumbling around. He called out.

For a moment, it looked as if he was going to be ignored, but then the person came closer. Slowly and very, very cautiously. The two of them were less than twenty feet from each other before they could see each other clearly. Hanz recognized the other man as one of the lesser lab techs, but couldn't come up with a name.

Whatever his name was, the other man was, if anything, in worse shape than Hanz was. Not physically - the man was only sporting two bandages, one on his right shoulder and the other high on his right thigh. But other ways? Oh yes. He was wild-eyed and twitched violently at the least hint of movement, and was staring very suspiciously at Hanz. He was also clutching a small briefcase protectively to his chest like it was a lifeline.

Once the guy got close enough, Hanz realized he was muttering to himself.

It took Hanz the better part of an hour of gentle persuasion and patience to get the guy calmed down enough that he started making any kind of sense at all. He'd been forced, while doing that, to take ruthless advantage of the man's terror to motivate the man to get them both out of there, as Hanz himself was in no shape to find a repairable vehicle and get it running again.

The story he got from the guy beggared belief. Hanz, having been injured very early on, and hiding since then in an effort to stay alive, had missed the vast majority of the battle. Including the zombies, and even the fact that their regular guns had been useless against any of the Avengers. He hadn't even seen the Asset. The lab tech, on the other hand, had seen all that and more. He had apparently managed to evade the Avengers by dint of using the secret paths in the castle. The Avengers had apparently found most of them, but not all, either that or the tech had simply been able to make use of the confusion to evade them. The tech had had the wit to grab what few disks and thumb drives and paper files that he could while running around. Given the size of the case he was clutching, it wouldn't be much, but something was better than nothing.

All in all, Hanz didn't really blame the tech for having come a bit unhinged. Hanz didn't think it was permanent - the guy would probably recover given a chance at some quiet and safety. But they had to *get* that quiet and safety first. And they absolutely needed to warn the rest of HYDRA of what had happened here.

Hanz did not doubt in the least that Captain America would come after HYDRA again.

(_)(_)(_)

Baron Zemo scowled as he regarded the report that a nervous comm tech had just handed him. The man's nervousness was indication enough the report was bad news. Unfortunately, while Zemo had never made a habit of killing the messenger, some of his fellow HYDRA officers were not so wise, and this particular comm tech had until recently been under the command of one of those less-wise officers.

"Thank you, you may go." Zemo told the man, who promptly all but fled, looking distinctly relieved. Zemo sighed. Eventually, the man would learn.

Reading the report did not improve Zemo's mood at all.

The 'original' Baron Zemo, the current Zemo's grandfather, had been a very minor player in the upper echelons of HYDRA. In the wake of Zola's defection, that Zemo had retreated to South America. And had built a considerable power base there, virtually from scratch. As a result, his son and grandson had risen in the ranks of HYDRA. Unfortunately, despite very much needing calmer, wiser heads to prevail, the Zemo family's more cautious and canny recommendations had rarely been heeded.

Which had resulted in the Asset. Which, really now. Even before Captain America had been brought back to the land of the living, the Zemo's had considered that a truly terrible idea. The odds of someone, somewhere, realizing who the Asset had once been were incredibly high, for one thing. It was not as if James Barnes had been a complete unknown, after all. And the man had proven to be unbelievably hard to control. That he would, eventually, escape HYDRA control entirely the Zemo's had largely considered inevitable.

Yet, that particular arm of HYDRA's science division had persisted, and repeatedly failed. Even the Black Widow program had been only a limited success - one which did not justify the unbelievable error margin the program had possessed.

No. Though it was nigh heretical to possess this opinion, the Zemo's had long been of the opinion that the Serum was more trouble than it was worth. There were other, better ways.

Zemo considered his options for a few minutes, then got to his feet and headed for the communications room. Once there, he found the tech who'd brought him the report.

"I want the two survivors brought here. I believe we have a sub in the Mediterranean?

"Yes sir." The tech said, swallowing nervously.

Zemo nodded. "Send word they're to collect those two and bring them here, then arrange a relay with the bases between Bavaria and the closest port of call for that sub."

"Yes, sir."

Zemo nodded and left. Well, that would at least spare the survivors, and Zemo might get more information out of them by speaking to them in person. Who knew what they might have edited out of their reports in an effort to spare their own lives, or because they thought it something inconsequential to the matter at hand?

The question of what to do from here was the problem. Zemo knew better than to attempt to attack the Avengers. Their strike against von Strucker made it clear that any attempt along that particular line was folly, at least at the moment. It might become possible later on, but right now, not so much.

What he needed, Zemo thought, was information. But how to *get* that information? Outside observation and cyber snooping would only do them so much good, provided either was possible in the first place. What they needed was someone on the inside. But therein lay the problem.

The Avengers had both a Black Widow and the Asset on their roster. Not to mention, apparently, the God of Lies. And while Zemo did not think Loki a god, he was cautious enough to be wary of Loki's reputation as seen in the Eddas. They could not use anyone that the Widow or the Asset might possibly recognize, nor anyone that had a pre-existing Internet presence. Stark would find them, in that case, and possibly uncover their true loyalties thereby. Nor could they use someone that Loki might ferret out.

Which, really, left Zemo with but one option. The option his father had ... created ... as a rather pointed answer to the obsession with the Serum being the only acceptable answer to possessing the perfect, moldable soldier.

There was still a risk. There was a connection, albeit completely unknowingly on both sides, to one of the Avengers. If the Avengers found out about that connection and poked in just the right places, they might figure out who had sent the person. But there was an equal likelihood that they'd poke in the wrong places, circle their wagons, and pull the person even deeper into their confidences, unaware of the person passing on information they garnered all the while.

Zemo headed for the depths of his base. There, in a subbasement only he and his father had ever had access to, was the project Zemo's father had spent much of his life on.

In specific, a mutant. Raised, trained, manipulated and brainwashed from birth onwards. The mutant knew nothing of life outside its (albeit very nice) cage. It never saw anyone but Zemo and his father. All information it possessed was given it by them.

Thus far, the mutant had yet to be deployed, so its perfection was as yet unproven. That said, the complete lack of any attempt to defy the Zemos or leave its cage was a vast improvement over the vast majority of other projects of this kind. All of which (except for the Widow program) had been perpetrated on full grown adults because those involved were too impatient to wait for a child to grow up.

Like the Widows, the mutant had been trained to be the perfect killer. Now it was time to see if it could perform better than its Serum-created predecessors.

Zemo let himself into the control room outside the mutant's cage. He flipped a few switches and a gas was released into the cage, forcing the mutant into sleep. Another few switches, and another gas was released. This one keyed to certain ... adjustments ... that had been made to the mutant, increasing its suggestibility a thousandfold. A third set of switches pumped yet another gas into the cage, waking the mutant back up, while a fourth ventilated the cage thoroughly, ensuring no trace of the gasses remained to put Zemo himself at risk.

That done, he walked to the door of the cage. The cage door was (ironically and amusingly enough, to Zemo) a standard exterior door you'd find on your average home. The cage itself did not look like an actual cage. Instead, it gave the appearance of a small, spare, tidy apartment. A windowless apartment the mutant was not allowed to leave, granted, but an apartment. And the fact remained that the mutant *could* leave if it got the mind to do so. There were no special measures in place to ensure the mutant stayed where it was put, aside from the gasses.

Zemo unlocked the door and walked in. The mutant, who'd been sitting on the couch prior to being gassed, glanced up and smiled at him.

"Hello, father!" The brown-haired, brown eyed mutant said.

Zemo took no small amount of delight in the fact the mutant was invariably pleased to see him. This was the proper way to go about things, truly. If you were father, or friend, or defender, or, well, really, anyone your ... project ... saw as someone to trust and/or look up to, it made it so very much easier to keep them under control. Because it never occurred to them that their benefactor was someone they needed to be wary of. And all it cost you was a bit of empathetic treatment of your subject.

"Hello, Laura dear." Zemo said, his tone distinctly fond.

Chapter Text

Peter and Tony

(_)(_)(_)

Peter debated the wisdom of approaching the Avengers the day after they destroyed the castle in Bavaria. The news pundits were going nuts over the incident. The Daily Bugle - well, Jameson, really - had promptly had a virtual (possibly literal, knowing Jameson's tendency towards histrionics) coronary and was calling the Avengers all sorts of horrible things. They were, however, notable as being the only ones to still be doing so.

Oh, the TV reporters had all started out that way last night, to be sure. Some had started changing their tune the moment it became clear just how much firepower was defending the castle. Most of the less sensationalistic news reporters had started asking why in the world a random castle in Germany needed that kind of security and firepower. But the hysterics of all but the worst of the sensationalists had changed tune really fast the moment the blue energy guns had come out.

Pretty much the entire planet knew Captain America's story. A story that included at least mentions of Red Skull ... and the weapons he'd developed to throw at Steve. Weapons that had not been seen since before World War Two properly ended. Those weapons had disappeared into the ether within months of Steve going down in the ice - as had HYDRA itself.

It hadn't taken long for someone to start digging around to find out who owned - or had owned - the castle the Avengers were reducing to so much ash and dust. Within hours of the attack, the world in general was freaking the hell out still - but now, it was over the possibility that HYDRA was still out there. Because that 'random' castle ... really wasn't. It belonged to the von Struckers. Who had been notable as HYDRA loyalists during the war. Given the security and firepower in the place, and the fact the Avengers were destroying it, it hadn't taken long for the pundits to add two and two and get four. By the time the actual newspapers came out this morning, they'd all (except the Bugle) been full of speculations about HYDRA, rather than attacking the Avengers.

Peter figured the Avengers were either going to be grumpy or tired or worse both, but he also figured they could probably use an excuse to think about something other than HYDRA right about now. So after talking it over with Aunt May (and her agreeing with Peter's line of thought), they headed to the Tower. After, much to Peter's amusement, Aunt May grabbed the spices for one of her casseroles. Peter guessed that she figured the Tower would have (or could quickly get) the other ingredients, but her secret spice mixes, not so much.

The secretary at the desk waved them on, clearly either recognizing them or having been warned by Jarvis. Once they were in the elevator, Peter spoke up.

"Hey, Jarvis? Where are Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner?" He asked.

"Dr. Banner is currently still sleeping off yesterday's transformation." Jarvis told him. "I am unsure when he will rouse. Sir is in his lab, tinkering with one of the suits."

"Oh, that works. I've got my web slingers with me. Think he would mind taking a look at them?" Peter asked, ducking his head a little at the look Aunt May gave him.

"I am quite sure he will want to take a look." Jarvis said, and Peter swore he sounded amused.

"Once you've dropped Peter off, drop me off on the common floor with the kitchen. I think everyone deserves a home-cooked meal after
yesterday." Aunt May said. "And I seriously doubt most of them can cook."

"Your assumption is correct. I have observed only Dr. Banner to have more than the most basic cooking capability." Jarvis said. "Everyone else either depends on deliveries, microwavable meals, or Miss Lewis' cooking efforts. Miss Lewis does seem to be quite competent, but she has only begun to cook for others in the last week."

Aunt May tisked. "Meaning they've had most of a month of rather questionable eating."

Peter managed not to start laughing until after the elevator doors closed behind him when he got off on the lab floor. The Avengers had no idea what they'd just let themselves in for. Aunt May was pretty darn fierce, and Peter absolutely would not put it past her to bully everyone into eating a positively huge home cooked family meal. A meal that would probably put most Thanksgiving spreads to shame, since Aunt May would have access to all sorts of things and not have to worry about the expense of it.

Jarvis had evidently warned Mr. Stark about Peter's arrival, because when the lab door opened, the music was already down to a manageable level. Peter stopped dead about a foot inside the door, staring around the big lab - which, it had to be noted, didn't look much like a lab, but more like a garage or machine shop. Which made sense, given Mr. Stark's affinity for mechanical things.

There were three suits along one wall, and an open space where a suit was missing. One of the three suits was visibly lighter than the other two, so Peter presumed it was the now-famous suitcase suit. The back wall was taken up with fabrication equipment of all descriptions and a heavily armored area Peter figured was for testing things without running the risk of blowing up half the lab. The third wall was mostly shelving units with all sorts of tools and parts in bins, but there were also three ... spaces ... whose immediate purpose Peter couldn't guess at. The center of the room was taken up with a bunch of work benches, wheeled stools, three mobile robot arms and a good-sized empty area that was probably intended for tech too big, heavy, or awkward to set on the benches. All but one of the benches were covered in parts and tools. Peter could recognize enough of the parts that he realized each bench represented one specific in-progress piece of tech.

Mr. Stark was currently mostly under the torso of a fourth suit, which was hanging suspended from the ceiling so he could get into the torso area. What, exactly, he was doing Peter had no clue, as Mr. Stark's face, arms, and upper chest were all hidden from sight. The legs of the suit were currently laying on the only bench clear of any other project.

"Hang on just a sec - gotta reattach this sensor." Mr. Stark called. A moment later, he pulled out of the suit torso.

Peter, despite the hero worship thing, was hard put to not laugh, because Mr. Stark looked like he'd stuck his finger in a light socket. Of course, Peter couldn't talk too much. His own hair, while not quite as unruly as Mr. Stark's, definitely had a life of its own sometimes.

"So. Jarvis tells me you have tech you want me to look at." Mr. Stark said, then made grabby hands. "Something about you putting it together yourself?"

"Yes sir." Peter finally managed, and took off the web slingers. Yes, he wore them everywhere. He was trying to figure out a workable way to wear the suit everywhere too, to cut down on how long it took him to switch over.

Mr. Stark gave him a wide-eyed look of horror and disgust. "Sir? What is this sir crap? Jarvis, did you corrupt this kid before we even met properly?" Before Jarvis could reply, he waved a hand. "Never mind." He pointed at Peter. "It's Tony."

Peter had kind of expected something of the sort. Dr. Banner had said to call him Bruce after all, and Mr. Stark hadly seemed the type to stand on ceremony. Still, it was the kind of thing that made his not-so-secret inner geek spaz just a little.

"Ok ... Tony." God, that was going to be weird for a while.

Tony finally took the web slinger out of Peter's hand and rolled himself to the end of the bench with the suit legs on it, where he had some room to work.

"Dummy, gimme my micro kit, would you? This is pretty small."

There was a beep from one of the robots and it rolled off to fetch the requested kit. Once it had deposited the kit on the bench by Tony's left elbow, it turned its attention to Peter. Peter watched it, somewhere between curious as all hell and a touch wary as it circled him, beeping and trilling in a way that reminded Peter a little of R2-D2 as it went.

(_)(_)(_)

"Don't mind Dummy." Tony said as he opened the tool kit. "He's just curious. And a tad protective." Ok, probably more than a tad, Tony could admit, but it wasn't like Dummy didn't have reason to be.

Tony paid no heed to Peter's response to that - if he even gave one - as Tony started working on the web slingers. He got quite the surprise.

Given that Peter was a teenager, with all the lack of money, access to materials and experience that implied, Tony had fully expected a godawful hack job on the web slingers. What he actually got was, yes, comprised of low-quality and recycled materials but it was also surprisingly well put together despite that. Enough so to make Tony curious about what Peter might be capable of making on his own with access to better materials.

"Well." He said. "This is surprisingly un-terrible. You, in fact, did a better job on this than SHIELD R & D did on Barton's quiver. Which is kind of horrifying, given what you had access to versus what they had access to."

"Really?" The kid looked somewhere between absolutely thrilled and horrified. Tony nodded.

"So." Tony said. "What I'm gonna do here is give you carte blanche in here. I've got all the tools and materials you might need - or they can be made by the fabricator in the back. You make your own web slingers - upgrade them if you want. If you get stuck or otherwise need a hand, I'll jump in, but otherwise stay out of it."

Tony'd get to see what the kid could do with access to the good stuff. If he absolutely couldn't handle *not* tinkering with the things, he'd join Peter. But depending on just how good the kid was ... well. See, Jarvis had done some poking around after Peter's first appearance at the Tower. It hadn't taken him long to discover the financial straits May Parker was currently in. Tony had plans to fix that, but he was well aware of the fact that people like May and Peter tended to have issues with so-called charity. So Tony came up with some ways to work around that. Lots of different ways. Most of which, admittedly, had gotten scrapped pretty quickly. But a few were looking promising.

May, for instance, was showing signs of being a mother hen sort, if her setting up shop in the kitchen to cook for everyone was any indication. Tony had zero compunctions with paying her to be a full-time cook for them if it turned out that she really enjoyed that sort of thing. Yes, Sparky had started cooking for them in the last week, but she wouldn't necessarily always be available to or even want to. Having a trustworthy cook on hand, especially when they were fresh from Avenging and way too tired and/or hurt to cook for themselves and didn't want to order in would be awesome. Another person willing to fuss over the people that needed it would also never be turned down, even if Tony couldn't exactly find a way to pay her for that part of it.

Likewise, if Peter proved to be any kind of promising in the tech building or even general science departments, Tony could put him in one of the paid internship slots SI kept open for promising kids between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. Both options, and several others if those two ideas didn't pan out, would give the Parkers the money they needed to live on without being blatantly charity. Which would give Tony and the others the time they needed to try to convince the pair to move into the Tower proper. Granted, with his full-body suit, it would take people a lot longer to figure out who Peter was, but eventually they would, and at that point the people Peter cared about would become potential targets. Since May seemed to be about the only one Peter was attached to, well, that made getting her somewhere she'd be safe a top priority.

Tony's declaration got him a huge, somewhat awed grin from Peter. And another, somewhat breathy "Really? I can ... Really?" that made it difficult for Tony to keep a straight face.

"Yes, really." Tony told him.

That got him an even bigger grin before Peter all but raced towards the bins on the wall to get stuff to make new web slingers with.

Chapter Text

Aunt May and Steve

(_)(_)(_)

May made her way to the Avengers' common-use kitchen and ... well, boggled a little bit. For one, the place was huge. For two, it had (just about literally) every kitchen appliance, utensil, and cookpot/frying pan known to man. The vast majority of which showed no sign they'd ever been used. Which, while it didn't surprise May, still bothered her. Ah well, some of it would definitely get used today.

She had decided to do her casserole variant on Beef Stroganoff. Mostly because it was the sort of dish that most people would like. Not many people turned their noses up at beef, cheese, and noodles. Her version also had the benefit of being the sort of stick-to-your-ribs filling meal that folks with high metabolisms and increased calorie needs would adore. That, some crusty home-made bread, a few vegetable side dishes and berry pies for dessert ought to fill everyone up nicely.

First thing first, however - the tomato sauce that would go in the stroganoff casserole. About the time that May found - and started chopping up - quite a pile of tomatoes, Darcy walked in.

"Hello, Mrs. Parker." Darcy said. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Call me May, dear." May told her. "And actually, yes there is. I'm making a tomato sauce, so if you wouldn't mind assisting with the tomatoes?"

"Sure thing." Darcy said, grabbing a cutting board and knife. She eyeballed the pile of tomatoes that May had found. "We may need Jarvis to get more tomatoes. The gang can put away kind of frightening amounts of food."

May was willing to take her word for it, since Darcy had cooked for the group a few times. She glanced up at the ceiling. "Jarvis, if you would be so kind as to locate us some more tomatoes? The fresher the better."

"Of course, Mrs. Parker." Jarvis said. "I can have a suitable amount delivered within the hour."

Once the first load of tomatoes had been cut up and was in the biggest container May could find to wait until the rest of the tomatoes arrived and could get the same treatment, she switched her attention to making the bread. Darcy moved with her, and the two of them worked together to get a full half-dozen loaves made. May did a couple different kinds. There was a flatbread that would work well with the stroganoff casserole for the folks that liked to sop up juices, a small loaf of black bread just for Natasha, and four loaves of multi grain bread. May also made a half dozen pie crusts that went in the refrigerator to set. About the time they got all of that done or set aside to rise, the rest of the tomatoes arrived.

Once they had all the tomatoes chopped up, May started working on the rest - that is, chopping and cooking the onions and other veggies and then adding her secret seasonings that went into the tomato sauce. Once that was done she transferred it to the biggest pot she could find that would still fit on a burner on the stove, and dumped in the tomatoes, then left the lot to simmer for the next few hours. About halfway through, once the tomatoes had broken down into an actual sauce, she'd add more tomatoes (chopped into larger pieces than the first bunch) and seasonings to give the sauce the chunky texture she preferred for use in the stroganoff casserole.

Next came the filling for her mixed-berry pies. A small (relatively speaking) portion of each of the four berries (Strawberries, blackberries, blueberries and raspberries) got made into the sauce, which got poured over the rest. May halved (or quartered, as necessary) the largest of the strawberries, but other than that and removing stems and leaves, everything got tossed into the sauce as-is to marinate for a few hours before getting put into the pie tins.

Once that was done, May checked - and kneaded - the bread dough, then was basically done for the next two hours while the sauce simmered and the pie filling marinated. She still needed to keep an eye on everything, of course, but that was neither time consuming nor difficult to do. Which left her plenty of time to inquire as to the state of mind of everyone. Oh, some of them she could guess. Poor Captain Rogers had to be utterly beside himself, for one. And the reminder of being held captive could not be all that fun for several of the others.

Most of them, actually, once she thought about it. She was relatively certain that just about every Avenger had been in enemy hands at at least one point in their lives. While she didn't know for a fact that anyone other than Sergeant Barnes, Loki and Mr. Stark had been in enemy hands, it made sense. Beyond that, however, May didn't know any of them well enough to guess at how they were dealing with the situation at hand.

Fortunately, May's trap was neatly set. She'd yet to meet the person who couldn't be lured in by the smell of good food cooking. The Avengers would, if anything, be more susceptible to the ploy than most, due to many of them having higher than normal metabolisms and all of them having been very active the day before. Also, the relative rarity of home-made cooking in many of their lives. So it wasn't long before the first Avenger followed their nose into the common floor kitchen. Better, it was Captain Rogers who showed up first.

And he had Sergeant Barnes dogging his heels. May had to forcefully restrain herself from showing her outright horror. She'd seen horrifically abused dogs with more life in them. The Sergeant was blank-faced and empty-eyed to the point of almost seeming to be … simple, and he was hunched in on himself a little, like he was expecting to get hit or worse.

Given what he had doubtlessly been through, it wasn't all that surprising, but it was utterly horrifying to see. But May knew better than to show it – or to give in to the urge to cuddle and coddle the man. Well, to a point. She was, given his body language, sure that a physical approach would not be welcomed, but he wasn't going to get much of a choice on other forms of sympathy and assistance.

“Something smells good.” Steve said. Where the Sergeant was empty of any facial expression, Steve was wearing a pinched, stressed, squinty look. And for all he was talking to May, he didn't seem to be able to look away from the Sergeant for more than a few seconds at a time, concern flickering across his face every few moments in addition to the rest.

“Just the sauce that's part of dinner.” May said, making an effort to keep her voice normal. “I've got fresh bread rising, too. I just need to decide on a vegetable or two.” She had to work rather hard to keep from smiling at Steve's wide-eyed look. For a moment, the stress melted away, which made it all worth it. Even the Sergeant reacted slightly, cocking his head just a bit and looking faintly curious for half a second.

“I didn't think anyone made their own bread anymore.” Steve said, then got a bashful look on his face. “Any chance of parsnips?”

“You've just not been talking to the right people, Captain.” May told him. “I'll admit that folks making their own bread is rarer than it was even back when I was a girl, but people do still make their own bread. And I can definitely handle parsnips. And maybe some mashed potatoes.”

Parsnips these days were, more or less, a niche vegetable. Very few people (relatively speaking) even liked them, never mind knew how to cook them. But there had been a time when root vegetables (which included parsnips) had been the staple vegetables of most folks' diets. Root vegetables kept for weeks or even months without needing to resort to refrigeration, were generally very easy to grow, and you got a good number of them from even a small patch of garden. Refrigerators had been extremely new when Steve was a boy, and not yet something found in nearly every home in the country. Between that and the Depression and rationing, pretty much everyone ate mass quantities of root vegetables.

May glanced up again. “Are there any parsnips on hand, Jarvis, or are we going to have to send out for some?” She'd spotted enough potatoes to feed an army earlier, so no need to ask about them.

“I shall have to send out for some.” Jarvis admitted.

“That's quite all right. We've the time to spare.” May said, then grinned at the two men. “Though I'll be setting you two loose on the potatoes. It's going to take a while to peel and cut up enough for everyone.”

Steve grimaced as he eyed the Sergeant significantly. “I don't know … “

May understood what Steve was getting at. But she was willing to bet that having something definite to do that had nothing to do with mayhem, blood and death would do the poor man a world of good right now. She understood Steve's desire to coddle the man, but that was going to backfire sooner rather than later.

“Nonsense. He'll be fine.” May said, then pointed at Sergeant Barnes. “You, sit here.” She patted one of the bar stools at the enormous island. He instantly obeyed her. May pointed to Steve. “You, go get the potatoes. There's two bushel baskets of them in the pantry.”

(_)(_)(_)

For a moment, Steve wanted to object. He didn't like seeing Bucky like this. Blank and lifeless and … yeah. No. And the idea of ordering Bucky around gave Steve hives. Almost literally. He just … couldn't do it. Couldn't treat Bucky like that. Even when there was a part of him that understood and even agreed with the idea that Bucky would need to be ordered around sometimes to get through the day. He just … couldn't do it.

It was the part of him that understood that kept the words behind his teeth. If he couldn't, he had no choice but to let others do it for him. It helped that Steve knew no one here would be mean to Bucky when it came to giving him orders. So Steve headed into the pantry and hauled the bushels of potatoes out.

And over the next few hours, Steve very privately decided that he liked May Parker. A lot. She shot him a lot of horrified and sympathetic looks, but made absolutely sure to do so only where Bucky couldn't see her. When she dealt with Bucky, she was firm but kind and there wasn't a hint anywhere in her tone of anything amiss.

Bucky followed her orders, of course. The best part was that, by the time supper was ready to be put on the table, Bucky had a bit more life in him. He still wasn't talking (not even via sign language), but he didn't look so blank and lifeless anymore. And in the meantime, Steve had found himself doing a lot of talking. Wasn't like he didn't have time for it, sitting there and peeling potatoes by the gross.

Something about May sort of encouraged you to talk to her. Steve had noticed the same thing with Sam. Maybe it was their open, easygoing personalities. Though if the tales he'd heard were to be believed, May could be quite a firecracker when necessary. He'd heard about her bawling Peter out over being Spiderman when he didn't even know if it was safe to use his newly acquired abilities. And even though Steve hadn't 'bared his soul' or whatever you wanted to call it – they'd stuck with completely innocuous subjects – he, rather weirdly, felt a little bit better. Maybe it was as simple as May being old enough to have been his mother if he'd been born in this era, and having that 'mom' air to her. She bore little to no resemblance to Steve's actual mom, but talking to her did remind him of the times he'd gone to his mother with his troubles. Whatever it was, it worked.

About two seconds after the last dish hit the table, they got invaded. Literally everyone showed up. Which was, Steve was fairly sure, the first time that had happened since the would-be invasion. No, wait. Steve was pretty sure everyone had been bullied into eating at the same time by Darcy the day after Bucky had been brought into the Tower. He wasn't absolutely certain though because he had not exactly been paying attention at the time.

“I'm … pretty sure Thanksgiving is in November.” John Allerdyce said after staring at the table for a moment. “Because this seriously looks more like that sort of spread than, you know, a normal dinner.” Rogue, who was standing next to him, elbowed him sharply, and he blushed a bit. “By which comment I mean 'holy shit how did you cook all this in less than a day, and also thank you'.”

“Language, young man.” May scolded, though her tone was quite mild. “I'm aware you're surrounded by inveterate hooligans, but that does not mean you need to emulate them!”

Steve choked on a laugh. Most of the gang looked like they wanted to object, but realized they'd be lying through their teeth if they did.

“Ten bucks says she starts a swear jar.” Steve heard someone whisper, their voice low enough he couldn't properly identify the whisperer. Though he was betting on Tony, because it came from that general direction.

Steve figured that for a sucker's bet. Though good luck getting this lot to clean up their language. Including him. He might not cuss as often as the rest, but that didn't mean he didn't cuss at all, after all.

All that said, he really didn't blame John for wondering if Thanksgiving had come early, because there was quite the spread of home-made dishes on the table. Several huge casserole dishes of what May had said was a baked beef stroganoff, beans, corn on the cob, the parsnips he'd asked for, and enough mashed potatoes to float an aircraft carrier in stood alongside dishes of several types of pickles and olives. A plate of sliced up cucumbers, carrots, bell peppers and tomatoes sat on the table as well as several enormous bowls of salad that already had carrots, cheese, cucumbers, bits of red cabbage, onions and tomatoes in it. Homemade bread fresh out of the ovens and, Steve knew (they weren't on the table at the moment), a bunch of berry pies for dessert rounded things out.

The sound of several stomachs snarling in unison broke the tableau – and had pretty much everyone laughing as they all scrambled for seats.

Chapter Text

Zemo, Yelena, and Laura

(_)(_)(_)

It took less than twenty four hours for the survivors of the Bavarian strike to reach Zemo's stronghold. One of the two would require weeks or even months of physical recovery and rehab to get back on his feet. The other was going to need some very careful, very gentle handling. Whatever had happened in the Avengers' attack, the second survivor was right on the knife edge of going irrevocably insane over it.

Zemo immediately had his best medical teams start working on both men. The mentally intact survivor got a few quiet words of encouragement, congratulations, and thanks. Such things cost Zemo literally nothing and would ensure the man at least thought well of him. Depending on just how bad the von Struckers had been as bosses, it could earn him the man's undying loyalty.

Certainly, being willing to shell out for the procedures and therapy necessary to get the man back to full working order would earn Zemo a lot of points with the man. All too often, such badly wounded minions were simply disposed of. Really, Zemo thought, his fellow HYDRA officers were largely very dumb in their handling of their subordinates.

And then Zemo got an unexpected windfall the evening of the day the two survivors arrived. To whit, Yelena Belova. A rather rough looking Yelena at that. Clearly, she had been rather extensively punished for her failure to infiltrate Stark Tower and the loss of the Asset.

Again, Zemo's fellow officers were morons. Yelena might be wholly, unshakably loyal to HYDRA, but even the most loyal soldier can and would revolt or simply refuse their duty if they are handled badly enough often enough. Yelena hadn't been pushed to that point yet, but given who she was and what she was capable of, even thinking of pushing her that far was suicidally stupid.

Zemo was not slow to comprehend the uses to which he could put Yelena, given his intention to implant X-23 into the Avengers. Yelena was a known enemy combatant. Having her hunting 'Laura' would lend a very real-seeming layer of danger to Laura's cover of being hunted by inimical forces. It would also increase the likelihood of the Avengers pulling Laura into their midst, rather than suspecting her of something. Not to mention giving Yelena a chance at payback.

All in all, quite the windfall.

Zemo briefed (and debriefed) Yelena extensively. Thankfully, her training allowed her to recall everything in perfect detail. And allowed her to notice more than the average person. It gave Zemo some much needed intelligence as to what sort of defenses the Tower had in place other than its residents. He was duly impressed with what Yelena had told him. The security guards had been, apparently, quite competent for their breed, if wholly unprepared for a Black Widow. And where there was one automated defense, there were bound to be more.

At least in this case, Zemo didn't think his fellow officers stupid for deploying Yelena at all. There was literally no other way to discover what sort of defenses the Tower had than to try to invade the place and see what happened. Stark, whatever else could be said about him, was not a stupid man, so there would not be any record, computerized or paper, of the Tower's defenses for people to ferret out.

Zemo also told Yelena what he had planned for Laura, and his idea to include her in the scheme. Yelena, after a moment's surprise at being consulted, agreed it was as solid a plan as any.

“You're going to have to be very careful about how she reports.” Yelena said. “Defenses aside, Stark is a tech-head. He'll have that Tower up to its eyeballs in prevention and detection tech. Calls or emails from the Tower itself would be completely out.”

Zemo nodded, and frowned. “That does present a challenge. She can't report from there, and if they're protecting her from enemies they're unlikely to let her wander the city alone. I'll have to think on a solution for that.”

(_)(_)(_)

Yelena did not quite know what to think.

She had failed. She deserved punishment for that. This, she did not deny, nor argue. She didn't even quibble at the severity of the punishment. Failure was unacceptable.

But.

Zemo baffled her. He was unlike her previous superiors. He paid strict attention to, and gave due credit to, her opinions and observations during the debrief of her attempt to infiltrate the Tower. And he had, shock of shocks, sought her opinion on the theatrics of deploying his personal trainee. Yelena had no idea as to the girl's abilities – she wasn't a Widow – so she hadn't been able to comment on the feasibility of the girl holding her own if she was discovered, but even consulting Yelena as to the practicalities of the deployment of a fellow asset was unheard of.

He was a lot more cautious and careful than what Yelena was used to. She did not, however, mistake this for cowardice. Far from it. Zemo might not be a master tactician, but he was intelligent and insightful and … unusual. He employed rather unusual, and frequently frowned upon, tactics for a HYDRA officer.

Once she was done being debriefed, Yelena accessed what she could of Zemo's record. Then she sat back and thought for a bit.

Zemo hadn't done anywhere near as much as his fellow officers. Notably, however, every single action he had taken had succeeded. Perhaps not on the first try, but in those cases he'd apparently done further information gathering and/or sufficiently altered his tactics such that a second attempt succeeded.

His opinion as to the Serum was nigh on to heretical, which accounted for his relatively low position. It smacked of criticizing their founder, which wasn't tolerated. But Yelena had to admit that at least in theory, he'd come up with an equally workable solution. Though she wouldn't have a fully informed opinion about that until she saw the new asset in action.

It said a lot for Zemo's style of leadership that he had arranged just such a showing.

She was led to the lower levels, and a hidden, heavily protected training room.

“This room is where X-23 is trained. She never faces live opponents. My father was unwilling to risk her corruption in the early stages, and we were never assigned a Widow to work with once she was far enough in her training that corruption was no longer a serious concern.”

“Would you like me to?” Yelena asked.

“Yes, actually. Not today. And I'd like you to do it twice. Once to see how her skills stack up to yours in a fight, and then, after she is properly prepared, to impress upon her mind that she hasn't a hope of standing against you and must flee from you.” Zemo told her.

Yelena nodded agreement immediately. A few moments later, the girl walked into the room.

She resembled nothing so much as a predator. Widows learned to project that aura, but not all of them had learned to pull it off. Yelena (and the traitor) had, of course, so she recognized a well-done aura. The average person, faced with this girl in hunting mode, would be utterly terrified.

The girl's fighting style was … spare. Efficiently lethal, in the least time and with the least amount of energy and effort expended possible. She never hesitated or slowed down. Not even a recording of someone begging for their life garnered any kind of reaction at all.

Not quite a Widow's education, but very close to it. Yelena had not problem mentally according the girl the honorary title.

The programmed enemies dispatched, the girl immediately strode to the door, her expression blank, eyes straight forward. She marched through the door and disappeared.

(_)(_)(_)

The next day, Zemo got Laura ready for her clash with Yelena.

He did not hurry the programming process. Haste led to sloppiness. Sloppiness led to trouble, regardless of what you were being sloppy about. Still, it didn't take all that long to gas her and then interact with her as her benevolent, loving father to reinforce his preferred role in her mind. He then returned to the control booth, gassed her again, and then began the process of turning her from Laura into X-23, the highly trained, thoroughly deadly HYDRA assassin.

This process was a bit more extensive than dealing with Laura. The room was fumigated and purged five times to ensure there was no trace of Zemo's scent anywhere in the room. The room itself was then changed, from that of a small but nice apartment into that of a bare, metal walled cell, whereupon the fumigation and purge process was repeated another five times to ensure no lingering outside scents that might cause problems. Only when this process was complete did he issue the commands that would effect the necessary mental change in the mutant.

This he did through voice distortion technology that turned his voice from that of a man, to that of a woman, and from the anonymity of the control booth, so she never got any true sensory data on her controller. When it came time to return her to her 'Laura' state, this process was reversed in its entirety, with the addition of the appropriate scents being pumped back into the 'apartment' before Laura was allowed to wake, followed by a reinforcing visit from her doting father.

That done, he retreated to the observation booth to watch the coming battle. X-23's first real test.

(_)(_)(_)

The Zemo family's efforts, while thoroughly successful, hadn't quite managed to create the perfect, mindless weapon. They had come unbelievably, uncomfortably close, but it wasn't perfect. In Laura's case, there wasn't even a spark of fight or will in her to subvert her 'training'. All there was, was potential. And even then, it was the potential inherent in a high-end healing factor.

Those with high end healing factors were … resilient. Their bodies resisted damage to untold degrees, and worked to undo it. And while the Zemo's had been careful to avoid healable physical traumas where they could, under the right conditions, the mental conditioning could and would get shaken off with relative ease. All that was needed was … opportunity. Logan had gone from feral, wild HYDRA captive to a reasonably sane and decent human being in a matter of two years with no help. And Zemo would be sending his pet project into the very heart of the Avengers.

But for now, that opportunity had not yet arrived, and Laura, or, more properly in this mode, X-23, was as yet unaware there was even a problem where her situation was concerned. Right here and right now, X-23 was on the hunt.

And for the first time, she had live prey. The Zemos had encouraged and facilitated the development of the feral tendencies X-23 had inherited from her sire. But they had been careful in their methods of development.

Programmed to be 'on the hunt', X-23 was in the truest sense a predator with their attention fixed on suitable prey. There was only enough human level intelligence to permit her to respond to her prey's attempts to evade her and successfully hunt them down. In true predator fashion, she dispatched her prey as swiftly and efficiently as possible.

There was no joy or exultation in fighting a fellow predator. No grief or reluctance. A predator had no use for such emotions. X-23 merely struck when openings presented themselves and evaded the return strikes when it was possible to do so. When it was not, she neither flinched nor cried out at the pain.

Only when the gas overwhelmed her did she stop.

(_)(_)(_)

Yelena was … impressed. The girl had held her own. Yelena suspected that, if it had been permitted to go long enough, she would have eventually overwhelmed Yelena. Yelena knew the limits of the serum that flowed through her veins, and she suspected the girl's healing factor would outlast Yelena's ability to heal herself.

Beyond being able to outlast an opponent thanks to the healing factor, the girl seemed to have every bit of the combat training the Widows had gotten. All she lacked was the infiltration training, to be a true Widow.

“She performed well.” Yelena admitted. “There is no knowing if she can handle Hulk. No one with sufficient skills has gotten close enough to gauge the creature's durability. The humans however shouldn't be a problem, if it comes to combat. Not even the rogue Widow. That fight would take longer, but the rogue would eventually go down. The aliens are a wild card, but they have to sleep sometime, and then it's a simple matter of cutting their heads off. Not much lives through that.”

“And the mutants?” Zemo asked.

“Weapon X will be a problem.” Yelena admitted. “The others, not so much. Again, they have to sleep sometime, and then it's a simple matter of cutting off their heads. Weapon X, on the other hand, has the training and healing factor to go toe to toe with her and probably to even defeat her. And she can't cut his head off. Your best bet is to make her as doe-eyed and helpless and inoffensive as you possibly can, so that combat becomes less likely. The more they think of her as a victim, the less inclined they'll be to suspect her of duplicity.”

“Thank you for your input. You've given me some valuable insights that will allow me to avoid a few problems I hadn't forseen.” Zemo said.

Chapter Text

Northstar and Tony

(_)(_)(_)

For nearly as long as Jean-Paul could remember, it had been he and his sister against the world. Fate had not been kind to either of them. Their parents died in a car crash when they were only a few months old. Their mother's cousin took them in at that point. Only to die of cancer when they were six.

They were then placed in a Catholic orphanage. Where virtually no one, staff or fellow orphans, reacted well when he and his sister's mutant power made itself evident when they were in their mid teens. Just to make matters worse in Jean-Paul's case, he realized very shortly thereafter that he was very, very, very gay. Though that, at least, was not discovered by anyone at the orphanage before they left.

Yeah, not a fun childhood, for either of them. The only break they got was a mixed one – the fact that the nuns running the orphanage didn't go out of their minds and either kick them out onto the street or do questionable shit in the name of 'saving their souls'. They'd settled for being very distant and very disapproving.

If they hadn't had each other to lean on, Jean-Paul really didn't want to know just how bad things could have gotten. As it was, unhappy as things had been, they'd made it through in one piece.

They'd both been contacted just after their eighteenth birthdays by Charles Xavier. He'd apologized for not stealing them away, but they were Canadian citizens and orphans. No one was going to buy Xavier's usual cover story for rescuing mutants at least somewhat in the public eye. To whit, a school for the gifted, with 'grants' to allow them to attend without having to shell out if money was an issue. Kidnapping them hadn't been an option either. But once they'd been booted out the door of the orphanage as adults, he'd been able to do something.

That break had been the start of a streak of better luck. Thanks to Xaviers' generosity, they'd been able to live somewhere other than a slum while they found jobs. They'd both been able to afford night college classes to get degrees. And Xavier hadn't asked anything of them in return. Not even to pass their good fortune on to other young mutants.

Which they'd done anyway, once they'd been securely established. It wasn't anything even close to what Xavier was doing, but they offered runaway teens that came through their neighborhood – whether mutant or not – a safe place to sleep and food to eat. The mutant kids, they pointed in Xavier's direction. While kidnapping was still a bad thing, Canada and the USA were friendly enough that the border wasn't up to its eyeballs in armed patrols or the like. There were more than a few places one could cross without encountering the border patrols. Risky, but doable if the kid was so inclined. And over the last seven years, several had been.

The non-mutant kids … well, there wasn't as much they could do to help that lot. A rare few were willing to go to the police with whatever problem had seen them leaving home. A few others could be talked into going back home if the situation at hand had more to do with teen angst than actual danger to them. For the most part though, the non-mutant kids wanted no part of 'help', convinced it was anything but. Jean-Paul and Jeanne knew better than most that those kids were, unfortunately, frequently right, so they didn't push.

Then, a month and a bit ago, the world went nuts. Because really now. Alien invasions? That was the stuff of sci-fi movies. And yet it had happened. As real and horrifying as it got. Then, shortly afterward, Charles had called.

It wasn't over. More were coming. A lot more. Yeah, it had taken all of about ten seconds for Jean-Paul and Jeanne to sign on to help with that fight. It hadn't taken all that long to put feelers out in the mutant community, and even less time to have interested parties seeking them out.

At this point there were seven of them, including himself and Jeanne. Another four were 'part-time' members. That is, their jobs or other commitments would make it difficult or impossible for them to get to every practice, but they had committed to working with the team to save the world all the same. They'd even chosen a name for themselves. Alpha Flight.

They'd had at least one practice with absolutely everyone at this point, and quite a few more with the main seven plus whichever of the other four could make it. Jean-Paul thought they were doing pretty well thus far. There'd been a few personality clashes and minor issues, but those were inevitable in any group of people. There'd been no sign – yet – of bigger trouble. Both he and his sister hoped there never would be.

Given their proximity – relatively speaking – to the Avengers and the X-Men, the idea had been put forward for everyone to meet. Get to know each other and, hopefully, practice working together just in case such was necessary when all hell broke loose. Given that the three teams would be responsible for protecting all of North America from the coming invasion, it was a very good idea. At least, Jean-Paul figured that was the general plan. Overall strategy hadn't been discussed too much at this point.

Thanks to Charles, they at least knew of the people comprising the X-Men and had heard bits and pieces about them. The Avengers, on the other hand, were a complete mystery save for Tony Stark, and even there all Jean-Paul and Jeanne knew was what got said in the news. So Alpha Flight was meeting them first.

The agreed-upon meeting place was in a remote spot in the Canadian wilderness, to allow for use of powers without freaking people out, if they decided to actually practice as well as just talk and get familiar with each other. So here they were, and the Avengers' jet was settling in the clearing while Jean-Paul and his team kept to the border of the clearing and well out of the way of the jet.

Jean-Paul almost swallowed his tongue, watching the Avengers disembark.

So. Pretty.

He gave himself a mental slap. Yes, there were two to-die-for blondes, an equally to-die-for brunet (not Stark) and redhead that .. yeah. The rest of the men on the team were only marginally less impressive.

So. Pretty.

Also completely inappropriate and potentially life-threatening. Jean-Paul was pretty sure one of the blondes was Thor, and the brunette was definitely Loki. Neither of whom was human and both of whom could squish him like a bug without half trying if they took offense at him flirting. Yes, he was fast but that only did so much good against the sort of firepower those two had at their fingertips. The second blonde was definitely Steve Rogers – aka Captain America. Who had been born in the 20's. Not a time known for its tolerance of homosexuality. While Jean-Paul was fairly sure Steve wouldn't punch his face in for flirting, the odds he'd be exceedingly disapproving were high.

Jeanne, who knew him entirely too well, was laughing under her breath, the cruel wretch. Jean-Paul ignored her haughtily and, once the wind and noise had died down, crossed the distance to the disembarked Avengers.

“Welcome to Canada.” He said, offering his hand to Steve. “I am Jean-Paul Beaubier, and this is my twin sister, Jeanne. We're the co-leaders of Alpha Flight.”

(_)(_)(_)

Tony was trying desperately not to laugh. Jean-Paul was metaphorically drooling. Not obviously, and not that Tony blamed him. Even Tony, who had only a vague appreciation of certain types of male bodies – enough to nudge him into Kinsey 1 but nowhere near enough to entertain the thought of sex with a man – had to admit that The Blonde Twins (Rogers and Thor, who looked alike enough to be brothers) packed a punch. Nor were they the only ones that could, would, and did turn heads.

To give Jean-Paul credit where it was due, he managed to keep his appreciation for certain members of the Avengers out of his voice and off his face and managed to stay professional during the initial introductions. But Tony'd caught the initial 'oh holy shit' moment.

Darcy still got that look on her face every now and again. Usually when one of the Blonde Twins was running around shirtless. Nor was she the only one, when they did that. Though he'd seen Darcy throw that look Loki's way too. And Loki, unlike the Twins, never went anywhere half-dressed.

Yeah, Tony was harboring a few suspicions about those two. It'd be interesting to see if he was right. So he'd gotten enough practice at spotting that look lately.

Anyway, it wasn't so much Jean-Paul mentally drooling that cracked Tony up as it was what happened after the initial introductions were finished. Loki, the brat, was being a little shit. Because evidently he'd caught the look too, and true to his legendary nature, decided to perpetrate some mischief.

He kept giving Jean-Paul subtle, coy looks, slightly stressing certain words to put an entirely different spin on what he was saying, and deliberately using words and phrases that lent themselves to innuendo. The slightly toothy grin and flashing eyes in between the sultry looks made it pretty clear Loki was being a little shit, not actually, legitimately flirting with Jean-Paul.

Jean-Paul was getting increasingly flustered, though he was doing all he could to hide it. Thor was alternating between rolling his eyes and looking enormously pleased at the sight of Loki in a clearly playful mood. Steve, god bless him, seemed to be completely, utterly oblivious. The rest of them? Mostly trying not to laugh their asses off. Especially when the other brat, Remy, decided to tag team poor Jean-Paul.

Really, you couldn't buy entertainment like this.

Sadly, Tony figured he'd better step in before this went from playful teasing to insulting or worse. He took a couple deep breaths to calm down and get the smirk off his face, then spoke up.

“That's enough, you two.” He said. “And don't bother giving me the big-eyed innocent look. You know who I'm talking to and you know what you're doing.”

Steve glanced over at him, then at the rest of the Avengers, then at Alpha Flight, clearly trying to figure out what was going on and almost visibly replaying the last ten minutes in his head. Half a second later, he figured it out. Not that he actually said anything, but a tide of red swamped his face and he got a look like he wanted to find a hole and crawl in it for a second there.

Poor guy. Tony wasn't dumb enough to think Steve was innocent, sexually speaking. That did not, however, mean the guy was anywhere near casual about sex and intimacy. Definitely a product of his upbringing, there. Not that sex had been shameful back then, but it had very definitely been something both extremely private and that was not spoken about. The modern day's casual attitude about such things made Steve blush and either want to or actually hide every time.

(_)(_)(_)

It was Jean-Paul's turn to fight laughter when Steve blushed. Good lord, but that was unspeakably adorable. He was almost disappointed Stark had put a stop to the teasing and flirting. That had been more than a bit fun. And at least now it was crystal clear that at the very least Loki and Remy both actively encouraged flirting. Thor had looked more than a little indulgent at the goings-on, but Jean-Paul wasn't sure why.

“Right, right. Down to business, I suppose?” Jean-Paul offered. “You mentioned that you were working with Hulk when you called to arrange this meeting. Were you thinking of introducing us?”

Steve immediately shook his head. “No, definitely not. It's too early for that. He's rather understandably gun shy, and we've only managed one workout with him. At this point I'm not sure he knows us well enough to trust us yet. Trying to introduce him to a bunch of new people might backfire.”

Jean-Paul nodded. “Fair enough.”

“We do, though, need to go over the general plan, at least for North America.” Steve said. “And specifically for your team.”

There were nods from all of Alpha Flight.

“So, basically, you guys are going to be in charge of defending Canada, obviously. You're going to have backup, in the form of some folks from.” Steve waved a hand skyward. “Off-planet. Two groups, specifically. And yes, you'll get to meet them. Probably in the next week or so. The first group are called Jotuns, and they're really tall – eight feet or so – with blue skin and red eyes. They're also very adapted to the cold. They'll need to stick to the far north and the coastlines, or near big rivers.” Steve said.

“Well, we have a lot of very cold places.” Jean-Paul said. “Depending on when this new attack takes place.”

“Early next year is our best guess as to when they'll get here. February or March-ish.” Steve told him.

“Ahh, yes. That will definitely give these Jotuns a lot of area to run around in and be comfortable.” Jean-Paul said with a laugh. Most of Canada would still be under snow that early in the year.

“Exactly. Your team and the Russian one will have the biggest Jotun teams.” Steve said.

Jean-Paul nodded. “Siberia, yes. That area would suit a cold-loving people, especially in winter.”

Steve nodded. “Right.”

“You know of Bobby? One of the kids at Xavier's?” Tony suddenly asked.

“Yes. Why?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Because Jotuns have abilities a lot like his.” Tony told them. “Just more developed.”

Well, Jean-Paul thought. That was interesting.

“The other group call themselves Vanir, and they basically look like us.” Steve continued. “They're more durable and live longer, but that's the only real difference. And they'll be able to go wherever. The main other team other than the X-Men you might cross paths with during the fight is the Japanese team, led by a fellow named … “ Steve hesitated a second, clearly trying to remember the name. “Hiro Yoshida. He and his group are covering Japan and China, while the Russian group deals with most of the rest of Asia. We're hoping to get a dedicated group for India set up because of the population density.”

Chapter Text

Steve and Hulk

(_)(_)(_)

It having been brought up, Steve decided that a second attempt to work with Hulk was in order. Since they were in Canada for the meet-and-greet with Alpha Flight, he just talked the team into staying the rest of the day rather than immediately heading back to the Tower once the meeting was over. The meeting place was remote enough to work well as a training ground, which meant they didn't have to worry about finding a suitable place.

Bruce, to Steve's surprise, was actually almost eager, when Steve brought up the possibility.

“The more he understands before the big showdown, the better he'll be able to fight with the team, even when the tactics get complicated. I mean, he adores Tony and Betty and is at the very least okay with the rest of the team, but … “ Bruce shrugged. “The more he likes you, the less likely he'll turn on you if someone really upsets him or whatever. So, two very good reasons to give him as much practice as we can between now and then.”

Once Alpha Flight was definitely out of the area, the team gathered near the jet's ramp.

It was a bit risky introducing Hulk to the jet – he had really, really bad associations with vehicles in general, never mind the flying ones – but necessary. He needed to understand that this vehicle, at the very least, was not a threat to him. If all they could do was get him to tolerate its existence enough to not smash it, that would be enough. Ideally, Steve hoped they'd be able to convince Hulk the jet was a 'safe place'. Somewhere he could go if he was being hunted by idiots after a fight, and more importantly, somewhere to bring an injured teammate.

Above and beyond that … they didn't have much time to acclimate Hulk to things. Less than fifty days at this point, if Bruce let Hulk out once a week. Less than two months to teach Hulk to work with the team, to understand, at least a little, the world around him so he didn't attack things that didn't deserve to get smashed. It was a tall order. But Steve had managed tall orders in the past. He'd manage this one too. Especially since he had an entire team to help him manage it.

Steve turned away a little to give Bruce some semblance of privacy while he stripped out of his shirt, shoes, and socks. Bruce handed the little pile off to Remy, who happened to be nearest him, and then padded about thirty feet or so out away from the jet.

Watching the transformation process was both fascinating and made Steve want to cringe. In one aspect, it looked almost ridiculously easy, smooth, and effortless. A near-instantaenous … swelling, for lack of a better word to use. Despite that, part of Steve couldn't help but think transforming had to hurt like hell, regardless of how smooth and painless it looked from the outside.

Just like at their first training attempt, Hulk came out with an eardrum-bursting bellow. That first time, it had sounded of nothing but rage to Steve's ears. After the subsequent interaction with the big guy, not to mention working with him to hit the von Struckers' castle, Steve wasn't so sure anymore. It might just be his imagination, or him projecting what he would feel in a similar situation onto the Hulk, but he could swear there was fear or at least apprehension in that bellow.

Then Hulk swung around and spotted the team. And the jet. He sort of … froze up. Like he was torn between two very different reactions. Maybe more. Steve stepped forward.

“Hi Hulk.”

Hulk brightened. “Cap!” He glanced around, then gave the jet a dirty look. “Hulk smash?” He asked. Or, Steve thought after a second's consideration, more like offered. As in, offered to smash the jet.

“No smashing today.” Steve told him, then pointed to the jet. “We wanted to show you this. I know you don't like 'flying stingies'.” Steve said, using Hulk's wording for flying craft regardless of its actual make. “But this one is good. This one brings Team to where things need smashing.”

It felt more than a little odd talking so simply, but Hulk just didn't understand more complex words and phrases. Yet. He'd get there. In the meantime, they'd meet him at his level.

Hulk snorted and gave the jet another dirty look. He was clearly not at all convinced Steve was right.

“It's safe. I promise. You can come over and look if you want.” Steve offered.

And therein lay the chancy bit. They wouldn't know until it was too late if Hulk would decide to preemptively smash the jet to keep it from hurting him.

Hulk eyed the jet, then Steve, then the rest of the team. He shifted from foot to foot a few times, then finally edged closer. It was deeply disconcerting to see Hulk, of all beings, acting like a skittish cat.

It wasn't until Hulk got closer to the team that he seemed to realize they'd picked up new members. Steve was actually impressed, given how many Avengers there were, and how unaccustomed to meeting people Hulk was, that he picked up on the additions at all.

Peter, in his old uniform for now (Tony was working on something that would actually protect Peter in a fight), didn't give away much in the way of reaction. Bucky, on the other hand, looked totally gobsmacked. Not that Steve blamed him.

Hulk singled the two of them out. “Who is?”

To his credit, he sounded more curious than anything else. Steve walked over, and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. “This is Spidey.” He said, opting for the easiest version of Peter's code name he could think of. Then he reached out and touched Bucky, who had slid into his spot at Steve's left shoulder. “And this is Bucky. They're both Team. They want to help smash things.”

Perhaps not true in Bucky's case. Given how badly he'd done after the castle raid, he might yet opt to not fight. If that was so, Steve wouldn't force the issue. Explaining all that to Hulk, though, was an exercise in futility.

As a side note, Hulk's curiosity about the new people was leading him to at least tolerate the existence of the jet. So Steve was already calling this one a win.

(_)(_)(_)

Hulk no like flying stingies. But. Team. Team is good. Team is nice. Flying stingy not flying. Or being stingy. Cap says it is good.

Hulk not so sure.

Then Hulk see new people. New Team?

Uh oh. Both new Team scared. Hulk not like that. Team not be scared of Hulk. Hulk remembered first meet, and some Team being scared, but not being scared after little bit.

Hulk sit down. Be smaller.

Skinny little puny Cap says is Spidey stops being scared fast. He do like Clint and climb Hulk, sit on Hulk shoulder.

“Oh man. You are awesome. This is awesome. I mean, seriously. Awesome.”

Hulk laugh a little. Spidey sound very … Hulk not know word, but is good thing. Then Hulk remember he can ask for word.

“What word for jumpy happy?” Hulk asked, pointing at Spidey to make it clear what he meant.

“Excited.” Cap tell Hulk. Cap sounds like he wants to laugh too.

Bucky … Bucky not stop being scared. Bucky hide behind Cap. Hulk not like that. Hulk hunch up, trying to be small.

Cap frown a little when Hulk do, then look over at Bucky. Then he look back at Hulk.

“It's not you he's afraid of, Hulk. He was … hurt bad. By very bad men. You remember the big place we smashed?”

Hulk nod. He remember big stone place. Lots of punies and their … guns. That is word Team teach Hulk for stingies.

“Well, those were some of the people who hurt Bucky. That's why we smashed. Bucky isn't used to not being hurt yet.”

Hulk blink. “Is like Hulk.” He said.

“Yeah, he is.” Cap agree.

Hulk scoop Bucky up. “Hulk smash bad men. No let hurt you.”

(_)(_)(_)

It was all Steve could do to keep himself from trying to rescue Bucky. Not that he thought Bucky was actually in danger, but Bucky was not especially thrilled with getting scooped up by Hulk, from the look on his face.

Also? The tone in Hulk's voice when he promised to protect Bucky? Had every hair on Steve's body standing on end. Because that tone promised extreme amounts of pain for anyone dumb enough to present a threat to Bucky.

Steve was more than willing to let Hulk carry out his threat. HYDRA was still a danger to Bucky, and would be as long as they existed. Steve had zero compunctions with siccing the big guns on any HYDRA agents that got any bright ideas about trying to 'reacquire' their asset. And the guns didn't come too much bigger than Hulk. At least, not Earth-natives speaking. Thor and Loki had Hulk beat, but they were the only ones.

Bucky tucked safely in Hulk's grasp and Peter perched on one shoulder, Hulk finally investigated the jet. He walked all around it, even poked (surprisingly carefully) at a few places. He found the gun ports and gave them dirty looks, but didn't try to smash them. Probably because he wasn't being shot at.

Eventually he came back around to where the team was standing by the ramp, watching him. He peered into the interior of the jet from about ten feet away from where the ramp touched the ground, but flatly refused to get any closer to the ramp, never mind step inside the jet.

Even if Hulk hadn't been … well, Hulk, Steve wouldn't have pushed the issue. Just getting him to accept the thing's existence was enough. They could work on getting him to step inside another time.

It took Hulk nearly an hour to turn Bucky loose. Once he had, Bucky promptly retreated behind Steve, trying not to look as ruffled as he probably felt.

They spent another hour answering Hulk's questions and helping him with his vocabulary. As fast as he was picking things up, Steve had high hopes that Hulk would be able to understand normal speech after four or five more sessions like this. Talking normally might take longer, but that was hard to judge. Hulk's difficulty using multiple-syllable words might just be an after-effect of his lack of vocabulary in general.

That done, they moved a bit deeper into the woods and introduced Hulk to 'hide and seek'. Otherwise known as teaching Hulk how to track and pursue someone, if such a thing became necessary.

And that's when they found out how frighteningly stealthy a twelve-foot tall behemoth was capable of being. For all Hulk was really loud when attacking or being attacked, he could be almost as sneaky as Natasha when he needed to be.

Which, somewhat belatedly, Steve realized they should have already known. Because Hulk had, when pursued by Ross, disappeared into the ether repeatedly while still Hulk. Also, forests were, if not a 'native' environment, then a preferred one that Hulk knew how to navigate with ease and precision.

It was both awe inspiring and utterly terrifying to watch (or not, as the case may be) Hulk ghost through the trees and bushes, barely disturbing a thing and making virtually no noise, only to pop up right in someone's face, grinning hugely, to bellow 'TAG'. The only person on the team he didn't scare the short hairs off of was Logan, and Logan had an unfair advantage in being able to smell Hulk coming. Even then, Hulk still managed to 'tag' Logan. He just didn't scare the crap out of him by coming out of nowhere.

Steve was busily trying to figure out how to replicate this in an urban environment. Because that was where most of their fights would happen, Thanos' invasion aside. Doing so would be tricky, though. Even if Hulk didn't damage anything during the 'game', they would first have to convince someone that no damage would be done. Not an easy endeavor when it was the Hulk involved. Not impossible either. Just difficult.

Maybe they could work something out with Asgard? Their buildings were sturdier, and they were a lot more cavalier about damage in general. It was something to think about at any rate.

Finally, though, the sun was setting and it was getting harder and harder to see.

“Ok, Hulk. We have to head back home now. Can you let Bruce come back?” Steve asked.

“Hulk play soon?” Hulk asked.

Steve smiled. “Of course you can play again soon.” He reassured.

Hulk huffed, then nodded. “Hulk go.” He said, and promptly folded in on himself.

Tony, who had positioned himself close to Hulk, quickly closed the remaining distance and caught Bruce before Bruce fell on his face.

“Hide an' seek Steevee?” Bruce slurred. “Really?”

Steve laughed. “It worked.” He pointed out. “Also? Hulk is terrifying in stealth mode. I did not know he had a stealth mode.”

Bruce huffed a laugh. “Need to pay 'tention, Steve.” He grumbled. At least he wasn't slurring this time. Just sounding tired.

Steve rolled his eyes. “And we got him to at least tolerate the jet's existence, which is good. At least he'll be less likely to smash it if he runs across it during a fight.” Which, depending on where they parked it, was always possible.

“Surprised 'bout that.” Bruce admitted. “He hates 'em.”

Chapter Text

Tharginn and Tony, Part 1

(_)(_)(_)

Tharginn was looking forward to this first trip to Midgard. The only bothersome bit was having to leave Aldvi behind. Someone had to sit the throne, and unfortunately their eldest, while old enough to sit the throne, had zero desire to do so. Tharginn, not being one of those parents who pushed their kid into something they wanted no part of, hadn't tried to press the issue since their son had made his disinterest clear.

Besides, Inbarthon would know the moment their son touched it. Whatever magic – and even the dwarves had not figured that out – made the Kingmakers work, they never, ever chose someone who started out a bad choice for King. Once crowned, it was possible for Kings to go power mad, otherwise insane, or become a bad ruler, but they didn't start out that way.

The most likely of their children to take Tharginn's place on the throne when the time came was actually their youngest child, incidentally a daughter. She wasn't even five hundred years old yet however, and so was far, far too young to step up as even Regent for a week or two. Even with Aldvi there to help her. That kind of responsibility had no business on the shoulders of someone so young, even in part.

Aldvi, of course, couldn't enforce royal decrees or the like, but Tharginn had made a point from day one of their engagement, never mind their marriage, of making it clear to his people that her word was as his word. If she spoke, his people would obey her as if she were him. By this time, they did it automatically, without considering that they technically didn't have to.

That, however, was the only real wrinkle. He'd miss Aldvi, but it was only a week or two. In the meantime, he'd get to investigate Midgard and see just what else Tony Stark was capable of. That suit had been utterly fascinating. Tharginn was not dumb enough to think it was the only thing Stark had created. Such a thing would be Master level craft for a non-magically-enhanced item among his people. Had the way it was powered been magical, it would have been Journeyman level at the very least. It had been intricate, elegant, sleek and deadly, despite Stark's demurs about its true capabilities. Stark had definitely come up with something else prior to that suit. No one pulled off something that good for their first attempt.

Tharginn wouldn't be going to Midgard alone. Their Master Shipbuilder, Razden, and the Fleet General, Kimpana, would be going with him. They were taking the long way 'round, in one of the small but very fast scoutships, rather than using Heimdall and the Bifrost. They needed to become familiar with Midgard's spatial territory as well as the Realm itself, which meant flying around.

They had three basic goals for their visit aside from getting to know Midgard's spatial territory. The first, to assess 'hydroponics' as a viable trade for the ships that had been commissioned. The second was for Razden to get a good look at Midgardian control systems, whether on a sea-going ship or some other mode of transport. This needed to be done in order to create Tony Stark's specified 'idiot proof' controls. The more similar the spaceships' controls were to what Midgardians already knew, the easier it would be for them to use. The third was to get to know at least some of the Midgardians who might become the spaceships' crews.

(_)(_)(_)

Tony had known, of course, that Tharginn would be showing up. Life may have gone insane after the Realm Tour, but yeah. He hadn't forgotten.

He also knew that, sooner rather than later, the governments of the world would twig to what the Avengers were doing and throw a shit fit or three. Maybe ten. Tony couldn't have cared less if he'd tried. The Avengers literally didn't have a choice but to do things the way they were. If they tried to do this the 'right', 'legal' way, the entirety of the Nine Realms would be cinders and ash. There was absolutely no chance of getting even the major world powers to agree to a plan of action before Thanos showed up. Even if all of them believed that Thanos would show, and that all he wanted was to kill everybody, they'd still take years or decades to agree on a plan of action. As things stood, Tony was willing to bet good money they'd spend the entire year just debating about whether Thanos would show up, and some of them would argue for trying to negotiate peace with the guy.

In that light, Tony had done a quiet end-run around certain governments to get in touch with their astronauts and submarine bridge crews. Word got put out about a new, updated and streamlined control interface, and would anyone be interested in seeing this? With the Stark name behind it, it was hardly surprising that quite a few, from all around the world, had signed on to get a peek.

Slightly underhanded, but it had been the best way Tony could think of to get his hands on the people best suited to fly spaceships without blowing the whistle about Thanos and what the Avengers were up to. Astronauts were, of course, a no-brainer, as they'd been trained to deal with space. Sub crews, while not trained to deal with zero gravity, were used to confined spaces and more importantly, thinking and 'flying' in three dimensions, which would make flying a spaceship a lot easier for them than for most. Granted, zero gravity wasn't going to be a factor, Tony didn't think. At least, the ship they'd been on so briefly at Svartalfheim had gravity. Tony didn't know if the gravity would crap out thanks to damage, of course, but he didn't think it would. He couldn't see people renowned for their crafting skills building something so shoddily that that would happen.

“Sir, I do believe Tharginn has arrived. I am monitoring a small craft that is clearly Dwarf-built, based on the recordings from Svartalfheim, that has reached Saturn's orbit.” Jarvis suddenly piped up.

Tony, who'd been in his lab working on a … shall we say, very special suit? … nodded. “Right. Any idea how long before they get here?”

“Given the ship's current rate of speed, approximately six hours, Sir. Which would put their arrival at two in the morning.” Jarvis said, knowing full well that Tony lost all track of time when he was working in the lab.

“Right. I'll clean up, and let the others know. Can you get in contact with the ship?” Tony asked.

“Unfortunately, no, Sir. Their systems are not geared for electronic input. Once they are closer, a way may be possible, but at their current distance, there is no viable means of communication from our end. That said, they may well have a way to establish communication with us.” Jarvis said.

“Point.” Tony admitted. “Worst comes to worst, we can have Loki teleport onto their bridge. We're going to want them to park in the deepest, darkest crater on the moon they can find, to keep their ship from being seen.”

“That would be the South Pole Aitken Basin, Sir.” Jarvis said, his tone full of amused tolerance.

Yeah, Tony had already known that. He just couldn't be bothered to remember the proper name of it. It's not like the moon was something he'd really ever had to concern himself with before.

Tony headed out of his lab, trusting Jarvis to save his progress and file it appropriately, and headed up to the common entertainment floor. He was in luck. Most of the team (he included everyone currently living in the Avengers' part of the Tower in that statement, actual Avenger or not) was on the floor except for the Terrible Trio. Knowing Barton, he was probably in the basement firing range. Where Agent and Widow were at, Tony hadn't a clue and wasn't about to ask. He'd have Jarvis let them know if they were available.

Peter, of course, was at home with his aunt, but he stopped by at least twice during the week and had planned to spend the entire weekend with them. Tony decided not to call him because of that. They were trying to keep his status as a 'hero type' quiet, so calling him was a last resort. Jarvis was the best, but there was only so much he could do about electronic security outside of the Tower without, you know, becoming a more benevolent Skynet. Which he was willing to do when it became necessary, but doing it for a phone call was overkill.

Pepper was the only one not in the Tower at the moment. She was at a meeting with one of their suppliers in Japan.

She had not actually been headed for a meeting in Japan when the invasion hit. That was just their private code for her getting as far away from the trouble zone as she could. Japan was almost exactly halfway around the world from the Tower – as far away as it was possible to get from it. It was also the place closest to the halfway marker that they had business concerns with. The Phillipines, which were the actual halfway point, they unfortunately had no business concerns with, which made it nonviable as a place for Pepper to be going for a meeting if she used the code in front of someone who knew enough about SI to know who they worked with.

“Hey guys. Jarvis just picked up on a dwarf-built ship heading this way. We can't be sure, but odds are it's Tharginn and whoever else he decided to bring along.” Tony announced.

That brought John and Rogue's heads up from where they were playing one of the Halo games.

“We get to meet … awesome.” John drawled the last word, then grinned over at Thor and Loki (who had been watching the two teens play the game). “Not that meeting you two, who are, you know, not human, wasn't cool as hell, but you look human, you know?”

That got a booming laugh from Thor, and a tolerantly amused look from Loki. “Aye.” Thor said. “And the dwarves are just enough different in appearance to make it clear they are not human.”

Because while they were very definitely shorter than most adult humans, they didn't have the 'odd' proportions associated with humans with dwarfism. Nor were they, quite, 'perfectly proportional' to their size by human standards. As befit a race that could and did spend their lives at very hard physical labor, they were broader through the shoulder and chest than most humans (especially ones their height), and most were far more heavily muscled than anyone short of a body builder. Their legs, while not quite as markedly different as the rest of them, were built to support the extra weight. Their heads were proportionate to the rest of them as well, hence why Tharginn's head couldn't fit into Tony's helmet despite him being 'smaller' than Tony.

“At any rate, Jarvis approximates they'll be here around two in the morning. I suggest that anyone in need of a bit of sleep get it now, because we're gonna be busy for at least a couple hours after they arrive getting them settled.” Tony said. “Most of tomorrow will be getting them acclimated to the Tower, then we'll give them a tour and show them how hydroponics works. What happens after that, hell if I know.”

“Probably a tour of the solar system.” Steve piped up from where he was putting together a snack for himself. “Since they're going to be in charge of that end of the defense.”

Tony mock-scowled at Steve for remembering that when he didn't. “Right, that's probably it.”

And he and Bruce would both be going, at the very least. Probably also Jane and Betty. Peter was a bit iffier, since they'd have to both get May's permission and arrange for him to miss school for however long the tour took. But yeah. There was no way in hell the science squad wasn't going on that trip. Sure, satellites got sent to record stuff from various planets, but it took forever, and Jarvis aside, machines could not think like a human or alter their programming. Which meant it was a given they missed stuff.

No scientist worth their salt would pass up the opportunity for an in-person look at the other planets in the solar system. Tony was just sad they didn't have a way to poke around personally 'on the ground' as it were. Space suits might be okay for around Earth, but the odds they'd hold up even on Mars weren't good. The other planets? Hah. All of them would require specialized equipment Earth just didn't have to explore in person. Yet.

There was a bit of cleaning up after that. Not that the common entertainment floor was a mess, but they did tend to leave stuff scattered around. Books, Starktabs and other detritus that got left on the couches and chairs, mostly. Usually only overnight, but still, it was there and needed tucking away.

Four hours later, they were, indeed, contacted by Tharginn. How the hell that worked, up to and including them being able to 'hear' Tony's replies, was enough to drive Tony up a wall. Magic. Bah. He wasn't sure if he hated or loved it. Tryng to figure out how it worked would drive him insane, and what it could do by turns fascinated and frustrated him.

When this was all over, if they were both still alive, he was going to sit on Loki, if he had to, until he got some answers that made sense.

At any rate, they found out they'd be playing host to two dwarves in addition to Tharginn. Tharginn parked their ship in the deepest part of the Aitken Basin, where they'd be the least likely to be detected. Jarvis had been busy the whole time ensuring that none of the satellites or telescopes aimed at space and capable of 'seeing' the ship actually 'saw' it. The time was coming when the world would find out what the Avengers were up to, but Tony hoped to have the first phase off the ground before they did. Once parked, they teleported directly into the Tower (Magic. ARGH).

Chapter Text

Tharginn and Tony, Part 2

(_)(_)(_)

Midgard, and its surroundings, were utterly fascinating to Tharginn. For one thing, Midgard was the only Realm to have other bodies in orbits around its sun (other than a moon). He found it rather ironic that Midgard shared its sun with eight other bodies (and a swathe of asteroids). Nine bodies, nine Realms. Tharginn wasn't fanciful enough to think it coincidence, but he'd been proven wrong in the past, so who knew.

Midgard itself was, to Dwarven eyes, very flat. This was not a new phenomenon to Tharginn (or any other Dwarf who had traveled to another Realm), but he was pleased to note that Midgard did have a few halfway decent almost-mountains, unlike some of the other Realms.

That aside, it very quickly became obvious that Midgardians were basically non-magical Dwarves. Their scans as they had approached Midgard's area had picked up a number of crafted artifacts. Some were obviously adrift, powerless, but others were just as obviously still powered and controlled by some means. The closer they got to Midgard itself, the more of such artifacts they encountered, and the more of them were still powered and controlled. Midgard itself was virtually surrounded by the things. They even, as Stark had averred, had an inhabited construct in orbit around Midgard. Something none of the other Realms had. Moreover, Midgard's biggest cities were a marvel of engineering. Tharginn, Kimpana and Razden had spent more than a few minutes cooing over some of the buildings their scans picked up – the ones that had been built as much to be art as they had been to be functional, at least going by what they looked like.

They teleported to the structure Stark directed them to. Stark, and quite a few others, were waiting for them when they arrived. Tharginn recognized the two men (other than Thor and Loki, whom he'd interacted with more than once before the Midgardians showed up with them in tow) that had accompanied Stark in the crowd, though it took a moment to remember their names. More because they hadn't talked to him as much as Stark had than any other reason. In fact, the one … Soldier, they'd called him, hadn't spoken at all.

“Tharginn! Good to see you.” Stark greeted them, then waved a hand. “This is the rest of the gang … well almost all of them. One's off doing other things and won't be here until later today, and another will be here in a couple days, as he doesn't live in the Tower. Yet. We're working on that one.” Stark grinned in a way that made Tharginn almost feel sorry for whatever was stopping that second person from living in this building. That grin did not bode well for the problem's continued existence.

“At any rate … “ Stark continued, then introduced everyone.

Tharginn nodded, and Razden and Kimpana both bowed slightly. “Well met, all of you. This is Razden, our Master Shipbuilder, and Kimpana, our Fleet General.”

Razden, like most Dwarves, was brown of hair and eye. He was, however, tall for a Dwarf – nearly able to look Stark in the eye – and on the lean side, comparatively speaking. Which had served him well in his chosen career. Even with the aid of magic, it was frequently required to shimmy into a confined space to do something in the construction of a spaceship, and Razden's somewhat narrower chest and shoulders meant he had an easier time doing such a thing.

Kimpana was a couple inches shorter than Tharginn. She was also significantly older than either himself or Razden (who was all of three thousand years old, while Tharginn was a bit over four thousand). Her hair had long since gone steel gray, and she kept it cropped very short, in a style that would have passed muster in Earth's various militaries (for a man). Her eyes were a shade of hazel that was more green than it was brown.

The Avengers (for so Stark had named the group) all offered various greetings.

“Right. C'mon with me and I'll show you your rooms.” Stark said.

The three of them followed Stark into a small … room? Stark must have picked up on their curiosity, because he grinned. “This is what we call an elevator. We can't teleport from one place to another, so in tall buildings like this one, elevators are the primary way we get from one floor to another.”

Ah. That made sense. While all but Niffleheim had buildings of more than one floor, none needed more than stairs to connect the various floors, either due to there only being a few floors, or because the residents could teleport between floors.

“So those small moving constructs we saw on the scans, the ones that kept to certain paths, they're your version of carts?” Razden asked. All three of them had agreed they probably were, but it was best to be sure.

“Yep. They're called vehicles as a group, but certain styles have their own names. The smallest ones are personal transport, for anywhere from one to about eight people. Some of the mid-sized ones are bulk transport for people, others transport goods. Same for the biggest ones.” Stark told them.

The elevator opened onto a new level, one with several doors on either side of a long hallway. Going by the spacing of the doors, whatever they led to was fairly sizable, as there were only two doors on each side, and the hallway was a good two or three bars long. Bars, of course, referred to the (long since standardized) length of cart-rails used when new track was laid. Tharginn had no idea what that length equalled in Midgardian measurements. At least, not yet.

“These are personal quarters.” Stark told them, and opened one of the doors.

The main room was generously sized, Tharginn discovered, and had high ceilings even for someone of Asgardian height, never mind Dwarven. Tharginn quickly noticed something interesting, however. Compared to the furniture he'd spotted on the floor they'd teleported to, the furniture here was somewhat smaller and closer to the ground. As if Stark (or whoever) had obtained furniture with Dwarven bodies in mind. Fortunately, the built-in parts of the space – like the workspaces in the kitchen, were not an un-handy height for a Dwarf. Midgardians were apparently just enough shorter than the other Realm residents that the three of them wouldn't have to resort to using step stools to reach sinks and the like. Though they would still need them to reach all of the storage spaces up on the walls.

“There are three sleeping spaces down that hall.” Stark said, pointing down a hallway. “So if the three of you would rather stay in one set of quarters you can, or each of you can have your own seperate quarters.”

“It would probably be best we all stay in one set of quarters.” Tharginn said. “It will make it easier for us to consult with each other and compare notes.”

Stark nodded. “Ok. There's a … I dunno what you call them, but a place to clean up down the hallway too. I probably ought to show you how that stuff works.” He led the way, and briefly showed them how to work the various structures in the room.

“Right. Other than that, if you have any questions about how to run something in here, you can ask any of us, or you can talk to Jarvis. He's available at all times. Jarvis, introduce yourself.” Stark said. Tharginn was both curious … there was, after all, no one else in the room … and slightly worried. Because Stark had a very toothy, anticipatory grin on his face.

(_)(_)(_)

Tony was not too proud to admit he was looking forward to seeing what the Dwarves made of Jarvis. Thus far, only a handful of the Avengers had twigged to anything unusual about Jarvis as far as Tony and Jarvis could tell – and none of them had said anything, which Tony and Jarvis both appreciated. Better, the ones who were probably harboring suspicions hadn't started acting weird. Which, given the prevalence of 'self-aware computers are evil' in media of all descriptions, was a real concern.

“Good evening, Your Majesty, Master, General.” Jarvis said.

All three Dwarves went a bit wide-eyed and glanced around for the source of the voice. For once, Tony suspected the surprise wasn't the usual sort. It wasn't 'I didn't know such a thing was possible' so much as 'I wasn't expecting this here of all places'. Which made sense, since Tharginn had mentioned that strongly magical items tended to develop minds of their own. They'd be used to a source of intelligence that wasn't a person, but not expecting to find such a thing on 'Midgard'.

“I am, as Sir indicated, Jarvis. I am a technical construct, capable of instantaneous observation and communication anywhere inside this building. I have access to the vast majority of Midgardian knowledge and will be more than happy to assist you in whatever ways you require, so long as those ways cause no harm to any residents of the building.” Jarvis told them.

It was a very simplified explanation, since none of the other Realms had computers, and explaining those, and the Internet, not to mention explaining Jarvis' full capabilities, would take quite a while. But even the short and simplified explanation had all three Dwarves giving Tony knowing, respectful looks.

“I do not know how you managed such a thing without magic.” Razden said. “But imbuing something with a consciousness of its own … “

Tharginn and Kimpana both looked like they agreed with the remainder of whatever Razden had been about to say.

Tony tried very hard not to be insufferably smug.

He was self aware enough to know it wasn't really working.

“Jarvis is one of a kind.” Tony admitted. “Though I do have a few much less sophisticated constructs with more limited forms of awareness.”

He was never going to fess up to the fact that he didn't quite know how Jarvis had made the leap from 'programmed AI' to 'person', nor that he sincerely doubted he'd be able to repeat the feat, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. He'd struck gold the first time. Who knew what would happen if he tried for Jarvis Mark 2?

“Now, I don't know how you guys measure time, what time it was on your ship, or if you keep track of day versus night.” Tony said. Which, given they lived deep underground or in space for the most part (a few farmers and fishermen aside), keeping track of day versus night was probably a moot point. “But it's very, very early in the morning here. Normally, the majority of people aren't up and about and doing things for at least four more hours, and most folks call it a day as of about two hours ago.”

Tony wasn't going to bother to explain about night shifts, because the Dwarves really didn't need to know that level of detail yet. They just needed to know that for most things they wanted to do or see, they needed to know the rough times that those things would be available.

“We work on a twenty-four hour clock. Most people divide it into two twelve-hour segments, so you'll hear people say things like 'It's three o'clock' or what have you. We also divide the planet into, well, wedges. Each wedge has its own hour. So, for this wedge, it's two in the morning, but for the wedges on either side of us, it's an hour earlier or later.” Tony told him. Of course, it was more complicated than that – the 'border lines' for the time zones could get really weird – but 'wedges' worked as a simplified explanation. “So if you have a meeting at someplace in a different wedge, you have to take the time difference into account.” Which would very probably come up.

Tharginn nodded. “Understood. What is our itinerary?”

“Today is just for hanging out at the Tower, getting you three acclimated and at least started on being on the same sleep/awake schedule as the rest of us, since you're going to be here a few weeks. Tomorrow, we've got an appointment at a hydroponics farm in the morning. Day after that, we meet up with some potential crews for the ships – all of them also folks who can help bang out a basic design for the ships – and give them the down-low on what's coming and what they'll be able to do to help if they're game.” Tony told him. “I figure most of the rest of the time will be spent working on schematics and the like, since it'll take a bit to figure out something that'll work well, given our inexperience with this sort of craft. It'll also give you time to get a gander at what Midgard has to offer if the hydroponics don't pan out. If you want to meet some of the planet-based defenders, we can easily arrange that while you're here.”

Tony left shortly after that, and headed for his own bed. The next few days were going to be hectic and interesting. The odds were high that this visit would be the one to blow the whole 'guess what the Avengers are doing!' can of worms open were insanely high. Someone, somewhere, was bound to notice that a couple of their sub and/or astronaut crews, ostensibly on leave, had taken off for parts unknown. It wouldn't, even with Jarvis running interference, take too terribly much to figure out where the crews had gone. From there, anyone with a modicum of intelligence would add two and two and come up with four.

Tony snorted a laugh. Government and/or military stooges being smart enough to add two and two and get four? Why was he worrying again? That was never going to happen. Or, well, one or two individuals in those establishments might come up with four, but they'd then be faced with the daunting task of helping their fellows come up with the sum so that they could try to do something about the situation. In which case, Tony had little to nothing to worry about, because if there was one thing he'd learned in his days as a weapons maker, it was that government and military officials could be frighteningly stupid.

Chapter Text

Magneto

(_)(_)(_)

Contrary to popular opinion, Magneto was not insane. Nor was he megalomaniacal. Nor was he psychopathic or sociopathic. Not in his own opinion, and despite Charles' mutation and what Charles liked to think, Magneto did, in fact, know himself and his own mind better than Charles did. What he was, was terrified, enraged beyond reason, and desperate.

Not that, in the final analysis, that was truly a good thing. Magneto was self aware enough to admit that. Desperation, rage, and terror could and frequently did drive men to do things they would otherwise never countenance individually. All three together … well. It simply meant he had made his choices without the benefit of being able to claim being 'not sane' to one degree or another. Though it must be said that he had every reason in the world to be terrified, enraged, and desperate.

He had seen – he had lived! - exactly how far people with more power than sense were willing to go to eradicate a group of people they didn't like. He'd seen some six million of his own people slaughtered – most of them in ways that were utterly horrifying to contemplate, never mind witness. He'd seen his own parents slaughtered in such a way. Not that he had witnessed every death, of course, but he'd seen far too many during his incarceration – where 'far too many' meant 'one'.

The only reason he'd escaped that fate himself was thanks to his powers – they simply hadn't been equipped to detain someone who could control metal. Granted, back then, 'control' had been something of an exaggeration, but still. He'd gotten out thanks to his powers (and had gotten quite a few of his fellow inmates out as well). And he'd vowed one simple thing. NEVER AGAIN.

In those early days, it had been a personal vow. He'd been unaware there were others like him. It had driven him to live on the edges of civilization for a time, terrified that someone would realize he was 'not normal' and attempt to detain him again. That they might even be clever enough to keep metal away from him when they did such a thing. Then he'd met Charles, and that singular status had changed. And with the knowledge there were others like him … well. 'Never Again' had very quickly become a blanket statement. He would do whatever it took, pay any price required of him to prevent another Holocaust. Even now, in this pristine, metal-free prison, he woke from room-shaking nightmares of mutants in shackles and concentration camps, marks on their clothes and skin and dying or being experimented on in various horrific ways.

Charles had never, could never, understand Magneto's stance. Charles had lived a completely normal life. He'd never been hated and hunted, and while his mutation had caused him no small amount of grief, no one had ever figured out that he was 'different'. As a result of that, Charles sincerely believed that mutants keeping their heads down and 'blending in' would keep things from blowing up in everyone's faces. Ridiculous. Jews (and more than one other 'hated' group) had tried that. They'd still been hunted, driven from their homes almost everywhere they'd gone to escape persecution. And they'd had the benefit of looking like everyone else. Some mutants didn't have that luxury. They had no hope of going unnoticed. He and Charles had parted ways years ago over their idealogical differences. And Magneto had begun to plan.

He had, over all, no real quarrel with the average citizen. Oh, they could be bigots, and prejudiced, but the damage any one 'average Joe' could do was minimal. Even the hate groups were only a minimal threat, because they were, largely, despised, marginalized, and hunted when they pulled their various illegal stunts. Which greatly lessened their ability to do harm. The religious zealots were a bit more dangerous than the hate groups, mostly due to their belief they were doing their god's will, but they could still be handled. It was the world leaders, policy makers, law enforcers and militaries that were the problem. The ones, in short, with the power to make and enforce laws like those Hitler had enacted that had resulted in the Holocaust.

They were the real threat. One that had to be neutralized. Somehow. This was where Magneto's lack of true insanity came in. Because for all he wanted to stop another Holocaust, he was not … yet … on board with killing at all, never mind indiscriminately. Hence, the machine. No one would die. They would just become mutants, and thus have a vested interest in mutants being treated well.

Had it worked, there would not have been even collateral damage … not in the truest sense of the word. Some few 'average citizens' would have become mutants, yes, but … no one would have died. And it truly would have been a small number of average citizens. The machine's area of effect would not have gone more than a mile past where the UN meeting was taking place. That was why he'd placed the machine on Liberty Island. He could have easily hidden it somewhere in the city proper and changed half the city or more, if that had been his goal.

He still wasn't entirely sure the machine wouldn't have worked. He had only the X-Mens' word it hadn't. Only a fool took an enemy combatant at his word in the middle of a conflict. People would say and do anything to get hostilities to cease.

Now, several months after the fact, he was of a mind to believe their claim that it had killed Senator Kelly, if for no other reason than the fact that someone trained by Charles would not entertain the notion of lying to the enemy. Whether or not it would kill everyone? That, Magneto was not so sure about. Regardless, the machine was no longer viable for use. Rebuilding it would be easy, but even if he could find a way to power it without killing himself into the bargain, he was still not on board with killing anyone if it could be avoided.

It was too bad that he and Wolverine had met under the circumstances they had. Wolverine had won Magneto's reluctant respect for his refusal to stop, even in the face of Magneto being able to control his body. Granted, Magneto also thought him somewhat stupid for not stopping, but he could understand and respect the impetus that had driven Wolverine. He could also respect someone who refused to stop until their goal had been met, whatever that goal might be, and was pragmatic enough to use whatever methods were required to attain that goal.

That the man was also bitter and jaded and very familiar himself with what people were willing to do to those they hated … well. Under better conditions, Magneto might just have been able to recruit Wolverine to his cause. But there was absolutely no chance of that now. Having worked with Sabretooth (who had a fairly similar mutation) for years, Magneto knew that Wolverine would never be persuaded that Magneto was anything but an enemy to be killed at the first opportunity to do so.

The only other proof that anyone needed as to how far Magneto had not gone over the edge … was the fact that he was still in prison.

Magneto's power had started small, for a given value of that word. He'd only been able to manipulate ferrous metals in his line of sight for over a decade after he'd manifested. But gradually, as he had gotten older, his power had expanded and refined. First to ferrous metals not in his line of sight but within a few hundred meters of himself. The distance he could 'reach' ferrous metals had then slowly expanded to roughly two miles. In all directions. Then, eventually, he'd started being able to manipulate non-ferrous metals. Again, at first, it had been metals in line of sight, slowly expanding to not in line of sight and again, out to about two miles.

Not that he had ever let anyone see just how much he could do, how far he could reach. Not even Charles had known. Magneto had mostly stuck to manipulating ferrous metal in his line of sight when he used his powers around people, and allowed them to make their own assumptions based on those performances. Charles had seen a bit more – he'd been there when Magneto had started to be able to manipulate non-ferrous metals. But Charles, like everyone else, was under the delusion that Magneto needed to be able to see what he was manipulating.

The point being, they'd designed his prison with that line-of-sight rule in mind. There was absolutely no metal anywhere within that range. But there was metal within his 'reach'. Metal he was not using in an effort to escape. Because doing so would result in civilian casualties. Rather a lot of civilian casualties. Casualties he was not, yet, fine with causing.

So he stayed. Bided his time. Considered his options. Entertained the regular visits from Charles and let Charles try to 'talk some sense into him'. Charles had made it clear, very early on, that he was watching the facility like a hawk. Not in an attempt to keep Magneto from escaping (though Magneto wasn't fool enough to think that wasn't also on Charles' agenda), but to make sure no one with nefarious intentions got anywhere near Magneto. With that assurance … well. This was almost – almost – a vacation of sorts. There would come a time when he'd need to leave, of that Magneto had no doubt. But until the day came that civilian casualties no longer mattered for whatever reason, he would remain.

Magneto was broken from his quiet contemplation by the sound of the machinery that extended and retracted the walkway kicking into gear. He blinked and looked towards the door. It was not yet a meal time, nor was it a day when Charles would visit him. What on earth? Or, better, who?

Thanks to the see-through design of his cell and the walkway, he got a pretty good look at the pair being escorted towards his cell by one of the guards. They were both tall, one slightly taller than the other. The taller of the two was dark haired, pale, and built on very long and lean lines. The (marginally) shorter of the two was more solidly built and … vaguely familiar.

It took Magneto nearly the entire time the two were traversing the walkway to place where he'd seen the second man before. Mostly because he'd never seen the man out of uniform. But even out of uniform, so-called Captain America was … distinctive.

This had Charles written all over it. Magneto had absolutely no idea how Captain America had come to be in the here-and-now … last he'd heard, the man had still been buried under who knew how much ice and water somewhere in the northern half of the Atlantic Ocean or maybe even within the Arctic Circle. Innumerable unsuccessful searches to locate him and the plane he'd gone down in had been conducted over the decades.

Magneto would absolutely not put it past Charles to have found the man. Magneto had a far better idea of how powerful Charles was than Charles did of him. It was not outside the realm of possibility that Charles had, via Cerebro, found an obviously still alive (though how that could be, Magneto hadn't the foggiest idea) Captain America and sent his students to dig the man out.

And of course Charles would ask the man to talk to Magneto. Given … well, everything, Charles would hope that Magneto would heed the man's words. Magneto was honest enough with himself to admit Charles was even right. Inasmuch as Captain America was revered by much of the world in general, he was even more revered and respected in the Jewish community. While his focus had not been on destroying the concentration camps or even on breaking the back of Hitler's might, the vast majority of Jews knew and understood that his takedown of Red Skull had played a key part in stopping the madness. Red Skull would have continued Hitler's work, very probably on an even larger scale, had the Captain not stopped him. And he had liberated at least one camp that Magneto had heard of. Possibly more.

Who his companion was, however … that was a mystery. It certainly wasn't anyone Magneto recognized from Charles' group of students, and the man was definitely old enough to have manifested as a mutant quite some time ago. If he was, in fact, a mutant. That was not a given. For all Magneto knew, the man was a descendant of one of the Howling Commandos.

The door opened, and the guard escorted the two men in.

“Visiting hours are over at five. Just wave if you want to leave before that.” The guard said, then left.

Which wasn't usually the way it went when Charles visited. Then again, as far as the guards knew, Charles was a completely normal elderly paraplegic who would have little to no chance of defending himself if Magneto decided to … engage in fisticuffs. It made sense for one of them to remain in the cell to safeguard Charles. Captain America, on the other hand, was definitely capable of defending himself in such an eventuality. He would, in point of fact, probably make a smear of Magneto, if Magneto didn't resort to using his mutation.

“Gentlemen. To whom do I have the honor of speaking?” Magneto asked.

“I am Steven Grant Rogers, though you would probably know me better as Captain America.”

Much to Magneto's secret delight, the man actually blushed referring to himself by his title. That aside, the man had almost immediately settled into a square stance, arms folded across his chest and a distinctly disapproving look in his eyes as he glowered at Magneto.

“And I am Loki.” The dark-haired man said. His expression was, well, nearly blank. At most, there was a vague look of polite curiosity. At least until you got a good look at his eyes.

That made Magneto blink. Then cock his head. About ten thousand questions raced through his mind. But first things first.

“Captain, it is a … very unexpected pleasure and honor. Do please be seated, both of you.” Magneto motioned to the two chairs at the table where he and Charles played chess (the chess set was currently tucked under his bed until their next match). Magneto himself settled for sitting on the side of his bed, since there weren't three chairs in the cell.

“I must confess myself to be incredibly curious on several subjects.” Magneto said after both men had taken their seats. “And finding it quite the quandry as to where to start.”

“I was dug out of the ice about eight months ago.” the Captain said, rightly divining one of the questions Magneto wanted to ask. “Exactly how I survived is something no one's quite sure about, but the best guess is that I basically went into hibernation.”

And the legendary Super Soldier Serum had done the rest. Fascinating. Magneto turned his attention to … Loki. And didn't that name just beg about a dozen questions! A close, discerning look at the man's face made it clear that, whether or not the man was the Loki of Norse legend, he definitely shared that beings' purported intelligence and crafty nature. His eyes were wary, watchful, and calculating. This was a man you underestimated at your peril.

Chapter Text

Steve and Loki

(_)(_)(_)

Steve had, quite honestly, wanted no part of trying to talk to Magneto. People like him really got up Steve's nose. Steve would never, ever understand how anyone could be willing to, in essence, kill people who hadn't done a thing to deserve it. Kidnapping a kid and forcing them to die in your place? That was a level of horrifying cowardice Steve had never seen. Not even Red Skull had been that bad, and that was definitely saying something. It really didn't help that going to talk to the man meant leaving Bucky at the Tower. Which meant being out of line-of-sight of each other for the first time since the surgery to remove the crap HYDRA had put in Bucky and replace his arm.

Despite that, Steve had (very reluctantly) admitted that Charles maybe had a point when it came to trying to talk sense into Magneto. The odds the guy would get out – whether thanks to the Chitauri and/or Thanos or at some other point – were ridiculously high. When that day came, it would be really nice if the guy didn't, as Tony put it, 'go supervillain' on them.

Loki had, when the subject first come up, agreed to talk to Magneto, so Steve had talked to Loki about the whens, whys, and wherefores of it. They'd both agreed that the sooner they started trying to talk sense into Magneto, the better. Depending on just how far past the deep edge Magneto was and how willing he was to see sense, they could very well need every second of time they could wrangle.

Steve was actually rather grateful Loki was going. Steve … was pretty straight forward. He could lie with a straight face if he absolutely had to, but he considered it an absolute last choice outside of such harmless things as card games, and was very uncomfortable with doing it. Word games were not really his thing. Not using them himself, and not (past a certain point) spotting them when someone else tried them. Steve didn't know how into or good at that sort of thing Magneto was, but better to be safe than sorry. Word games were pretty much Loki's bread and butter, so he'd both spot any verbal traps Magneto laid and be able to counter them. And probably trip Magneto up with a few of his own into the bargain.

The jail was formidable. From what Steve had learned, the place had been built by SHIELD with super-powered lawbreakers in mind, though obviously they couldn't predict every single possible superpower. They had, though, had something ready for the day when someone managed to catch Magneto, who had evidently been poking at the edges of illegal actions for a while. Long enough that people realized he'd step over the line at some point.

He hadn't even bothered to try not to express his lack of being impressed when they walked into the cell. Had, in fact, quite deliberately given Magneto what the Commandos had coined 'The Disappointed Face'. Which, yes, the Commandos had been on the receiving end of. Normally thanks to the hijinks they got up to when they had a bit of R&R between HYDRA raids. Though there'd been a few times Steve'd had to pull the Face out because someone got a little too reckless with their life in their zeal to wipe out HYDRA.

(Bucky had NEVER failed to be deeply amused at the irony when that happened.)

Steve was … well, kind of reluctantly amused at Magneto's near-gushing. It wasn't unexpected. Steve might not get why people in the modern day got all starry-eyed and awed at him, but Magneto … yeah. That was a whole lot more explicable. And whatever else could be said about the man, he at least started out polite and civil. But then, Red Skull had been capable of sounding like he wasn't an amoral monster too, so that wasn't saying much.

To say Steve (and the Commandos) had been unamused when the news about the concentration camps reached them was to vastly understate the case. If it hadn't been for Red Skull and HYDRA, he and the Commandos would have spent the war hunting those abominations down with extreme prejudice. As it was, they'd more or less salted the earth the times they'd run across a concentration camp while searching for HYDRA bases or foiling HYDRA attacks in the war.

Which is to say that, the worst part of this whole thing was that Magneto had a point. His belief that mankind couldn't be trusted to treat civilly with mutants wasn't based on nonsense bullshit or mental imbalance of some sort. Even if Magneto hadn't lived through the Holocaust … the Holocaust had still happened. And, while it had been notable for being the most organized and inhumane attempt at genocide (at least that Steve knew of), not to mention the one with the most deaths, it had not even come close to being the first.

Steve was no more going to allow that to happen to mutants than Magneto was, really. He was still catching up with things, but he hadn't missed how mutants were generally seen and treated. Hadn't missed the fact that the X-Men … especially the ones that didn't look fully human, expected trouble. The X-Men participating in the defense of the city had put a dent in that attitude, but Steve wasn't fool enough to think it had fixed the problem entirely. He figured that mutants helping to kick Thanos' butt would at least put another heavy-duty dent in the 'mutants bad' perception.

And if it didn't? Well, at that point, Steve figured he'd have time on his hands. And he'd always hated bullies. He'd happily spend the rest of his life metaphorically (and literally, where necessary) kicking people in the teeth until they saw sense or, at the very least, gave up trying to bully mutants.

Still with his arms crossed over his chest and with that disappointed look on his face, Steve sat back just a little in his chair, trying not to loom.

“Let's put all our cards on the table, shall we? I'm pretty sure you've guessed we're here at Charles' behest.” Steve said.

He and Loki had agreed that Steve would, well, do what he did best. Play things straight. Use blunt honesty like the weapon it could be. Loki would do what he did best. Weave a subtle web of words around Magneto and trick him into tripping right into it.

“I had assumed as much, yes.” Magneto agreed. “Though I fear his hopes are in vain.”

“Given he expects you to be him? Pretty much.” Steve agreed, then had to fight a laugh at Magneto's briefly stunned expression. “Don't believe my press, Mr. Lensherr.” And calling him that rather than Magneto was definitely deliberate. “Despite what history would have you believe, I have a long history of doing what I think is right, rather than what's expected of me. Charles Xavier might have asked me to speak to you with the assumption I'd try to convert you to his beliefs, but … “ Steve shrugged.

“I saw some of the camps. And history is rife with what humans are capable of doing when they don't like a certain group of people. Hiding in plain sight might have worked for a small number of folks in the past, but it's not viable for mutants as a whole. Large scale placation is really not viable either.” Steve said.

It had worked for other groups to an extent, but the reality was that some mutants had truly terrifying abilities, and no amount of telling people 'we'll be good, honest' was going to completely relieve peoples' fears of such mutations.

Steve almost grinned when Magneto seemed to, well, to get a little smug, alongside the shocked surprise that Captain America of all people agreed that people in general could be horrible. Admitting that? Well, that had been sheer common sense. Because sooner or later, Magneto would have gotten him to say it. Best to do it now. And then hit Magneto with the heavy end of the hammer.

Steve straightened from his mostly-relaxed seat and uncrossed his arms.

Steve's personality had always been larger than life. After the serum, his body had simply (mostly) matched that personality. Steve had always stood (or sat) straight and proud when he was on one of his soap boxes. It just hadn't had any impact coming from a skinny, short guy that a strong wind could have knocked over.

That same body language now? Packed a whallop. Steve might not understand why it did (really, he was never going to understand the hooplah that surrounded him), but he wasn't shy about using it to his advantage.

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was … amused.

Steve, for all his protestations otherwise, could and did manipulate people. Granted, it was mostly by simply being himself and letting his (hilariously overblown and in a lot of cases outright erroneous) reputation do the work for him. Still, he wasn't all that shy about doing that sort of thing for the right cause. This situation being a case in point.

Like Steve, Loki was willing to admit that Magneto had a point. Loki didn't even blame the man for going, as the Earth saying went, 'off the rails' in the face of what he'd suffered. Loki would be the worst sort of hypocrite if he did. But, having had such a breaking point and now being beyond it (beyond, not over. Two different things), Loki could admit how counterproductive actions taken in such a state could be.

It was also amusing to watch Steve at work for another reason. Steve wore 'Captain America' the way one might wear a coat. It was something necessary at certain times, but when it was not, you took it off. Loki, as a shapeshifter, had experience with that sort of thing, but it was always interesting seeing it from the outside.

Steve had come here as Steve, disappointment and all. But now, having admitted that Magneto had a point (as they'd planned to do), Steve visibly shifted into 'Captain America'. His posture straightened, the disappointed glower he'd been wearing increased tenfold, and even seated he managed to loom. He pointed a finger at Magneto in a way that succeeded in being vaguely threatening, if Magneto's expression was anything to go by.

“That said.” And even Steve's voice had changed, going a bit deeper and definitely more authoritative. “Your plan is even worse than Charles'.” And even side-on, the glare Steve leveled at Magneto was impressive. “Do you not realize that what you're doing, and what you doubtlessly plan to do in the future, is killing the very people you want to save? Every time you and other mutants that think the way you do kick up a fuss, it makes things worse. The fear mongers can sit back, point to what you've done, and go 'See! We told you! They're dangerous and evil and must be eliminated or controlled!'.” Steve snapped.

“Every time you do that stuff, you make more people afraid of mutants.” Steve continued. “You make more people willing to treat mutants badly.” Somehow, Steve managed to loom even more without really moving other than to jab that pointing finger at Magneto with each of the next five words. “You. Are. Making. It. Worse.”

Loki watched as Magneto briefly reeled back like he'd been hit by Mjolnir. Steve had figured he might, given the existing variables. If he did, that was to be Loki's cue to step in. It was a plan not unlike the ones he and Thor had employed in the past. Thor did his best work as a blunt weapon, much like Steve. So it was easy for Loki to slot into his usual role as the slim, hidden knife to Thor's massive hammer.

“We are not unsympathetic.” Loki fairly purred. “The situation facing mutants is not ideal. And while I am not as intimately familiar with the period of history the two of you lived, I do not need to be. I have … faced prejudice near to that level myself.” By the Norns, had he ever. More even than he'd been aware of for most of his life, given how Jotuns were spoken of in Asgard, and the fact he'd not known he was one of them all that time.

Loki couldn't stop the grimace of distaste that flickered across his face. Even if he could have, he wouldn't. It served its own purpose, as Magneto would assume the grimace was caused by memories of prejudice faced, rather than Loki's extreme distaste for … well, certain facts.

“Overt violence is the purview of lesser men.” Loki purred, deliberately stressing the phrase to imply he considered Magneto to not be a 'lesser man' and thus capable of and expected to perform better. “Men such as we know that words, properly wielded, are far more effective and the proper way to go about things.”

Again, stated with the implied assumption that Magneto was included in the group bright enough to know that and use it. “A people forced to bend the knee through violence remains a people unconvinced … and highly likely to revolt.” Loki said.

Which had been the cornerstone of his plan to save Earth, if Thor hadn't picked up on something being wrong with him. Earth, subjugated by violence, would never have stopped resisting Thanos. The best part of the plan being that he hadn't had to actually do anything to enact it other than try to conquer the planet as per Thanos' commands. It had saved him from having to tear his mind apart fighting the mind control to do something about the situation.

“But cause those same people to believe that your cause is just and right through word and deed … “ Loki gave Magneto a toothy grin and spread his hands as if to say 'well, there you have it'.

The odds that absolutely everyone would be convinced, regardless of who was doing the talking, were nil. But the right words, combined with the right actions, would convince the majority. And that was all mutants needed to avoid being wiped out. Once most people were convinced that mutants weren't a problem that needed correcting (or worse), they would protect mutants from the remaining minority. A number of groups on Earth were protected from persecution through similar actions on their parts. Not globally in most cases, to be sure, but they had still gained tolerance of their existence and protection from persecution in various areas around the Realm.

Chapter Text

Tharginn and Tony, Part 3

(_)(_)(_)

For a people who had long since adapted to living without a sun (save those few folks who farmed or fished on the surface), waking to sunlight streaming into a room never stopped being very, very strange. It was far from the first time Tharginn had experienced the phenomenon, as he had (along with his other siblings) joined his parents on their trips to the other Realms both for business and pleasure. Still, Tharginn would never get used to it. In this case, it really didn't help that he'd only had a few hours' nap before being so wakened.

Looking out the window, though, was interesting. Their scans as they'd approached had told them a bit about Midgard, and seeing the city, if briefly, lit up at night had been quite the thing. However, it wasn't until now that it became clear (even from this height) just how many people were in this one city alone.

Yes, Stark had told them roughly how many people lived on Midgard, but it was nigh on to impossible for Tharginn to conceptualize such a thing. Seven billion? Insofar a he knew, none of the other Realms had ever had a population of even two billion. And such numbers had predated each Realms' Golden Age. Since then, none of the other realms had managed a population of even three quarters of a billion. Seeing the traffic below – both on foot and the various 'vehicles' made such a ridiculous, mind-boggling number more real and concrete.

Razden and Kimpana woke shortly after Tharginn did, and the three of them headed back to what was evidently the main social floor for the so-called Avengers and their associates.

The rest of the day was very educational. Tharginn's early thought that Midgardians were essentially magic-less Dwarves was borne out again and again. Crafting things seemed to be a Realm-wide activity. More, Midgardians had come up with some truly ingenious ways to do things that other Realms used magic to accomplish (or, especially in Nidavellir's case, didn't bother accomplishing). They even seemed to be obsessed with learning and recording all they learned, if their 'internet' was anything to go by. It wasn't sapient (Jarvis aside) and interactive the way Svartalfheim's Heart was, but it was definitely a repository of most of Midgard's information.

This, they discovered when Stark sat them down and showed them images and information regarding hydroponics, in preparation for the visit to an actual hydroponics farm. There were thousands of images at the least. And dozens (again, at the least) of 'sites' that either explained what hydroponics was or talked about someplace that employed it and how. And there did seem to be quite a few methods, just going by the images.

“I've got a couple farms we'll be going to, to show you some of what can be done, and so you can confer with experts on the process.” Stark told them. “Most of it, you guys would be able to put together pretty quick on your own, regardless of which method you end up choosing, if you go with this for the trade. Mostly, you're going to need help with the nutrient mix the plants get fed. Granted the plants on Svartalfheim aren't the same as Earth plants, but the folks that do this for a living can definitely help you figure out what it is your plants need, and in what quantities.”

Tharginn nodded at that. The more he saw of hydroponics, the surer he was it would be what they asked for in trade for the ships. It was a pretty equitable trade. Both were things necessary for long term survival, if for different reasons. Both required that the trader initially assist the tradee in the use of the trade item. More importantly, both items could, after that initial assistance, be used and adapted very long-term without further assistance.

“And Earth in general will be willing to throw in seeds for some of our plants.” Stark told them. “Not sure if you'd want that or even if they'd be viable on Svartalfheim, but it's an option that would expand your dietary choices without being dependent on off Realm trade if it works.”

Once the information about hydroponics had been shared, Stark had let them loose on the rest of the 'internet', though he had specifically pointed out something called Wikipedia as a 'site' where the most information was gathered. Along with a warning that because of that, they could conceivably spend weeks investigating all the information that had been gathered together there.

They'd still gone and looked. It had taken only one 'page' to understand what Stark had meant. So much information, and so many 'links' to other Wikipedia 'pages' that explained bits of knowledge, each with their own 'links' in turn. Tharginn was pretty sure they could spend a week just coming to understand a single facet of Midgard.

It had taken a real act of will (and intervention by Kimpana) to turn away from that and focus on getting to know the people they'd be working with, rather than delving into what Midgardians knew and could do.

Having met a few of the Avengers on their trip to Svartalfheim, Tharginn concentrated on getting to know, at least a little, the ones he hadn't met until his arrival on Midgard, and watching how everyone interacted. It became very obvious very quickly that this group, thrown together in the face of adversity though they may have been, had gelled remarkably quickly. Not just as a fighting unit either, but as a de facto family, complete with playful bickering.

Interestingly, it quickly became clear that certain of the women ruled over the group. Most notably, Stark's mate, identified as Pepper Potts( who arrived around mid-day) and the woman identified as Darcy Lewis. The other women were definitely high on the 'boss' ladder, but to Tharginn's eye were a lot more subtle about it.

Given that most of the other Realms tended to put their women in 'second place' as it were, this heirarchy pleased Tharginn. Even if it ended up not holding true for the rest of Midgard, it was pleasing to see here.

(_)(_)(_)

Tony was hard put to not crack up laughing at the dwarves throughout that first day. They were as curious as the proverbial cat, for one thing. Watching them poke at and exclaim over pretty much everything was a hoot. That they didn't do so with 'clever, for an inferior species' overtones was just a bonus. Not that Tony had figured them for such an attitude, really, but he'd learned the hard way to not assume the best of people.

Showing them the internet, though? That had been hilarious as hell. Kimpana had ended up almost literally having to drag Razden and Tharginn away from the monitor after a couple hours of poking around. They spent the rest of the morning hanging out with the gang after that.

After lunch, Tony wandered over to the three.

“C'mon. Gonna give you the five-cent tour of the place.” Tony said. “There's more here than living spaces, after all.”

That got all three of them traipsing after him. The first place Tony went was the Avengers' lab floor. He headed straight for his own lab. While the other two labs had machines in them, there really wasn't that much to see and poke at. His, on the other hand …

Oh yeah. Definitely more a dwarf's speed. Besides, Tony had an ulterior motive, showing them the place.

He was looking to the future. Good relations with the elves simply wasn't going to happen. They turned their noses up at everyone else – there was no way in hell they'd treat Earth and her people any differently than they treated everyone else. And while the other Realms were all pretty friendly … well.

The flat truth was Earth simply didn't have much in common with most of the residents of the other Realms. There was little in the way of innovation, creation, and seeking of knowledge from what he'd seen. The Dwarves, on the other hand, still seemed to have the drive to learn and discover and create that the others didn't seem to. Tony figured that if Earth was going to have a really good, really close relationship with any one of the Realms, it'd be the Dwarves.

The quicker they started the process, the better. And Tony was not above using what he knew of Dwarven culture to his advantage to help forge that good, close relationship. And from everything he'd been given to understand, letting a fellow Dwarf poke around in your workspace was a big deal. Second only to letting them in on how you made stuff. Probably because any Dwarf worth their salt had a good shot at figuring out how you made stuff if they got a good look at your workspace.

Besides, call this a bit of playful revenge for all the geeking out he'd done on Svartalfheim. Turnabout was so very fair play.

“Welcome to my workshop, everybody.” Tony said, waving a hand in a gesture that rode the line between grand and negligent.

As was normal for him, there were about seven projects in various stages of assembly or disassembly spread out over his worktops along with tools, rags, coffee cups and other odds and ends. The fabrication units in the back were busily working away. Arrow heads and shafts , at the moment. Tony was making a hell of a stockpile of every kind of arrowhead Clint used, along with enough shafts to put them on. The fletching (and putting said fletching on the shafts) would come later. Especially the fletching. The shafts and heads could easily be stored in bins for months. Once the fletching was on the shafts, long-term storing in a bin just wasn't a possibility.

Dummy barely let them get in the door before he rolled over, chirping curiosity the whole way. As he did with everyone that walked into the lab for the first time, he circled the three dwarves, reaching out to nudge at them as he went, before he parked between Tony and the dwarves. Which was something Dummy hadn't ever done before.

Then again, Tony had never brought three new people in here at the same time before. Yeah, there'd been three (or more) people in here other than Tony before – quite often in the last month and a half or so especially – but they'd been introduced to the bots singly. And even then, Tony had gotten the distinct feeling that Dummy, at least, watched everyone who came into the lab like a hawk. That whole mess with Stane had definitely left its mark on everyone involved. Dummy and Jarvis had been hit a lot harder by the whole thing than Butterfingers and You, and Tony had been (and remained) completely ok with letting them do (or giving them) what they needed in order to make sure Tony was okay. Besides, with Dummy parked between them, the dwarves were afforded a better look than if Dummy had stopped beside him, facing forward as he usually did.

“This is Dummy.” Tony said, reaching up to pat Dummy's claw, then letting his hand slide down the smooth metal cylinder of Dummy's arm. “He's one of the constructs I mentioned when I introduced Jarvis this morning.”

Tony gave Dummy another, distinctly affectionate, pat. “He's the first one I made. The others are … “ Tony motioned towards the charging stations, where both Butterfingers and You were currently parked, but watching the newcomers curiously. “Over there. Their names are Butterfingers and You.”

All three dwarves had looks on their faces like they couldn't decide whether the names were hilarious or not, and whether or not they could get away with laughing if they were.

“Go ahead and laugh.” Tony told them. “I was young when I made and named these three. Wasn't even an adult when I made Dummy, and just barely old enough to claim adulthood when I made the other two.”

And he had always had a perverse sense of humor.

They didn't laugh, but they did break out in big, amused grins. “Just how aware are they, compared to Jarvis?”

“Not too much behind him.” Tony admitted. “They have rudimentary personalities and can act and react to things outside of what they were originally programmed for – Dummy more so than the other two. Though I think that's more a function of Dummy having been first, and thus there was a bunch of stuff going into him that didn't get put into the other two.”

That and, there for a couple years, it had just been Dummy and Tony. With only a human to imitate and learn from, Dummy had gotten a little further than Butterfingers and You, who'd had each other to imitate and learn from, as well as Dummy and Tony.

“That said, if I put any of the three of them in a place or situation completely unlike anything else they'd ever encountered, they wouldn't be able to figure out what, if anything, they should do.” Hell, even Dummy saving his life had come from the 'Tony needs something out of his reach, give it to him' bit of Dummy's programming. Though admittedly, Dummy's guard dog tendencies since that incident were all Dummy – there wasn't a scrap of programming for such a thing anywhere in Dummy's code.

“May I touch?” Razden asked.

Tony was thoroughly pleased that Razden was very clearly aiming that question at Dummy, not him.

Dummy, despite not having a face, managed to succeed in giving Razden a suspicious look before he turned to Tony. Tony carefully kept his expression bland, with neither approval nor disapproval clear to be seen. Dummy eyed Tony for a long moment, then eyed Razden again before slowly extending his arm with a distinctly cautious air.

“He seems distinctly … wary.” Kimpana commented.

“Yeah.” Tony said. “He has reason to be. About a year and a half ago, I was nearly killed in the lab he and I were working in at the time.” Ok, the bulk of the incident hadn't taken place in the lab, just the last few moments, but Tony refused to go into details about that mess. “He's been protective of me and leery of other people ever since.”

“Hmm. Such a thing would definitely disturb even a being with a far more limited understanding than this fellow seems to have.” Razden agreed.

Tharginn, who'd been busy eyeballing the lab in general rather than concentrating on Dummy, nodded his agreement. “Even the simplest of animals can and will rally to the defense of one of their own in the face of predation.”

Chapter Text

Tharginn and Tony, Part 4

(_)(_)(_)

The visit to actual hydroponics farms had, not to put too fine a point on it, really impressed Tharginn. This method of plant growing would, in all likelihood, allow for a nearly exponential increase in the amount of crops grown without taking up any more space than was already committed to food production. His people had never starved, but they hadn't ever had a plentitude to spare, either. Nor had they had the sheer variety the other Realms enjoyed. Using hydroponics, they might actually get to a point someday where they could grow enough – and enough different things – to be able to export a few of the things they grew.

Tharginn had decided that if the hydroponics worked out half as good as he hoped, they'd expand and try their hands at the more complicated aquaponics. But that would be a project for later, once they'd gotten hydroponics worked out. Stark had agreed to help Tharginn locate and hire a team of hydroponics experts that would be willing to relocate to Svartalfheim for no less than five years and as much as twenty, depending on how difficult it turned out to be to get the system up and running successfully with non-Midgardian plants.

Today, they were meeting the potential ship crews. Stark had forewarned Tharginn that these people had no idea why they were really there. Tharginn had been curious as to why.

“Life on other planets was a fantasy for us until last month.” Stark told him when he asked. “If I'd told them to come meet an alien so they could talk spaceships, I'dve been laughed off the planet, despite the invasion. A lot of them either won't have heard of it or will think it was some sort of stunt. Telling them I had some new tech I wanted their opinion on, though … that would definitely get them to show up.”

Tharginn had also been warned that most of those coming did not have a language in common.

“Most of them understand at least some of a language other than the one they grew up with, but there isn't a single language they all have in common. I've got Jarvis providing translation services so they can talk to each other. And me.” Stark told him.

Before Stark could offer the same for Tharginn, Tharginn explained the spell that allowed him to understand any language. Not just him, of course (it had been placed on all the other Realms long ago), but the point was that Tharginn wouldn't need someone to translate for him.

The political divisions on Midgard were … completely confusing. Not to mention complicated. Even dealing with elves wasn't as bad as trying to figure out Midgard's political arenas. The sheer number of languages spoken was even worse. Tharginn could not, for the life of him, figure out how anyone got anything done. Yet somehow, not only did Midgardians get things done, they got a lot done and in general got it done well.

Tharginn was absolutely certain that the rest of the Realms were in no way, shape, or form prepared to deal with Midgard and its people as they took their place in the Realms. Svartalfheim wasn't either, for that matter. It was going to be amusing as hell to watch. Even if he'd be joining the other rulers in their befuddled 'what the heck just happened?' moments.

The meeting was taking place at what Stark called a 'subsidiary site' for his company. One that had the facilities needed to allow for a meeting with a large number of people. Specifically, just over four hundred people from twelve countries. According to Stark, the group represented at least one submarine (which term had necessitated some explaining and a visit to the internet) crew for each of the twelve. After investigating, Tharginn made due mental note to see if his people could put together such a machine. There were also astronauts (yet another explanation and visit to the 'internet') from three of the participant countries.

Which had prompted Tharginn to ask why not all the countries had astronauts. Not having submarine crews, he could understand if a country did not border an ocean. But all of them had access to space, so … why not? The short version of the answer being simply 'not enough money'. Though Stark said that while most countries didn't have their own 'space programs', they could and several did train people to go into space on the journeys that the countries that did have space programs partook of.

The first thing Tharginn noticed when the four of them entered the large room was that the people all seemed to be in little clusters. Some of whom were eyeballing other small clusters. Mostly with wariness and suspicion, if Tharginn read their expressions right. Tharginn assumed the divisions were by country, and the wariness and suspicion indicated some level of distrust or dislike between the groups eyeing each other.

Again with feeling. Midgard's politics were really, really confusing. Enough to give a person a headache trying to figure things out.

“Welcome, everybody, to 'Defending The World, Politics Be Damned'.” Stark said, waving with an expansive gesture. “Everybody has a StarkTab, yes?” Stark waved the flat … thing … he had told Tharginn was the aforementioned StarkTab (not that Tharginn had completely understood what the thing was). “They're loaded with your native language and will provide translations.”

Given that Tharginn could hear Jarvis basically whispering in multiple languages at the same time, Tharginn was going to go with 'yes' as the answer to that question.

(_)(_)(_)

Countdown to governmental/political meltdown set at twenty four hours. Mark. Because there was no way in hell one or more (most likely all) of these people wouldn't tell their governments about this meeting. God, this was going to be both hilarious as hell and a nightmare to deal with.

Tony did wish there was a way to keep this under the radar. If he thought he had a chance in hell of getting these people to sign and abide by an NDA, he'dve gone for it. For that matter, if he could have delayed this meeting for six or eight or ten months, he would have. But they needed these people, and as early as possible. So here they were. Thank god for Pepper and SI's PR team. They'd spent the last month battening down the hatches and building fallout shelters (metaphorically speaking) in preparation for the political shitstorm that they'd get hit with.

“So. First thing first. Sorry, but no new tech. I did, however lure you here for a damn important reason.” Tony said, eyeballing the group.

Sure enough, right on schedule, about half of them got really irritated. Tony just rode right the hell over that. “Everyone's heard about the attack on New York City, right?”

There were a lot of nods, but one of the more mulish sorts glowered at him and snapped something. Which, half a second later, Jarvis translated.

“This is American problem, not ours.”

“Except for the part where more are coming.” Tony said, staring the guy down. “A lot more. Earth is in trouble, people. We have about a year to get our asses in gear and be ready to kick this ass of the army that's coming, and the ass of the guy in charge of said army. There's a file on your Tab that has all the information we know about this guy and the army he has at his back. Peruse it at your leisure.” Except Tony's tone said for them to read that shit right the hell now.

Again, predictably, someone opted to ignore that and focus on the Dwarves standing beside Tony. Though Tony was gratified to see quite a few folks checking their Tabs and the file he'd mentioned.

“Who are these people with you?”

Tony grinned, honestly pleased. The question had been faintly suspicious, but mostly curious. A good sign. “Representatives for one of our allies in this fight.” He said, then waved at the three. “I would like to introduce you to King Tharginn, Master Shipbuilder Razden, and Fleet General Kimpana. They are Dwarves, natives of a planet called Svartalfheim.”

Tony started a mental countdown, waiting to see how long it took someone to start frothing. He didn't even get to five. About half the room exploded, for any one of a variety of reasons, their voices overlapping one another. Tony ignored the babble and focused on his own StarkTab, where Jarvis was printing, in English, what was being said and by whom.

Even if Tony's been fluent in every language spoken in the room (which he wasn't), he wouldn't have had a chance in hell of understanding anything in the melee. Tony let it go for a minute, then tapped the Tab in a pre-arranged signal with Jarvis. Immediately, a piercing, grating, and loud noise sounded. Most of the folks in the room cringed, and everyone fell quiet, at least for a second, in startlement. Long enough for Tony to break into the yelling match.

“Look, people. Whether we like it or not, aliens are a thing. A thing that exists. There are files on your Tab with information on the known species out there. The short version is that the Norse 'gods', while not actually being gods, exist. Odin, Thor, Loki. That whole bunch. The latter two? Also happen to be on Team Earth.” Tony gave the room a toothy grin.

“Right now, we're scrambling to form a defense for Earth. The folks in the files have all pledged their assistance, because the guy attacking us is a massive threat on a level we just don't have a scale to judge with. Given that our respective governments would still be arguing about whether and how to work together when Ragnarok came calling, I decided to cut the paper pushers out of the equation as much as possible. Which is why you're here.” Tony said.

“We've got the beginnings of ground troops. But this enemy? Is going to be coming at us from space. And we need to meet him there, keep as much of this off the planet as we can. The other species out there all have space armadas, and are going to be lending a hand, but this is our world. I think we should have a few crews up there too.”

Yeah. Tony had them now. They'd mostly gone quiet and were listening, even if some of them were frowning and not looking any too happy. A few also still looked like they thought this was so much bullshit. Well, they'd learn sooner or later.

“That's why you lot are here. Razden there, and his workers, will be building us spaceships. They can, apparently, get ten of them done before Thanos' expected arrival time. At the very least, we're going to need crews. Given we're defending Earth as a whole here, I figured folks other than Americans might be interested.”

Tony fought down a smirk. While none of the countries represented in this gathering flat-out hated the USA, relations were strained with more than a few of them, and most of them would be very reluctant to allow the USA to get all the praise and benefits they imagined would come due the defenders of the planet, if this threat Tony was yammering on about was real.

“At best, I would like for those of you who are willing to consult with Razden, so that the easiest-to-use and most efficient spaceships possible get built. Of course I have a few ideas along those lines.” More than a few, actually. “But I've never been crew on a sub, or played astronaut.”

And if there was one thing Tony had learned over the years, it was that there was a gulf between what 'ought' to work and what did, in fact, work when it came to such things. As had been proven on multiple occasions, optimal computer models could be utterly worthless and even flat out lethal (to the wrong people) when built. Which was part of why Stark Industries had focused on weapons, rather than the vehicles that delivered them, back when. That and Tony took a possibly unhealthy joy in watching things go boom.

“I'm not asking any of you to reveal your countries' tech secrets.” Tony said. “That's not what this is about.” Then he waved to Razden, who stepped forward.

“What I and my people need most is what you consider optimal placement of controls and viewscreens, atmosphere mix and gravity. This will probably involve visits to the first mostly-completed ship to made adjustments, a couple weeks after construction begins.” Razden said.

“Once at least one of the ships is completed, those of you that indicate your willingness will be given a chance to learn to actually use the ship.” Kimpana said from her spot beside Tony. “I and several of my commanders will assist in teaching you space maneuvers, strategies and tactics before you need to employ such in the defense of your Realm.”

Tony watched the group. The more the Dwarves talked, the more people in the group settled into believing that this was not, in fact, a hoax. That there was, in fact, a legitimate threat to all life on Earth and that they were needed to help fight it off.

“I won't lie to you.” Tony said. “Your countries are probably going to throw epic shit fits several times before all is said and done. But we've all seen just how slowly politics work. By the time all our countries even agreed to act together in the defense of the planet, never mind anything else, Earth would be a cinder.”

And here, Tharginn spoke up. “Mr. Stark has explained to me that some of your governments might try to stop you from assisting in the defense of your Realm due to politics. Those of you who think this situation will apply to you, but still wish to participate anyway, will be given sanctuary on Svartalfheim, starting today if you request it. Should it become necessary, you will be welcome to live on Svartalfheim the rest of your lives.”

Yeah, and that? That was making this even more real for these people. At the same time, Tony could see at least half the room eyeing their Tabs and the files thereon with increasing auras of grim determination. Tony didn't think they'd have to live off-planet all their lives. If nothing else, other countries would probably be all too happy to allow the folks who helped defend the planet call their country home. But the possibility of being in deep shit with their home country for the rest of their lives definitely existed.

Chapter Text

Magneto, Steve, and Loki

(_)(_)(_)

Magneto and his family had, in the days of the war, not been rounded up and sent to the camps until after Captain America had started stomping all over the continent in pursuit of Red Skull. Back then, Magneto had been young and … unbroken … enough to daydream, and he'd wondered, more than once, what it would be like to meet the man, to talk to him.

Of course, imaginings aside, he had not truly believed that such a thing would actually happen, even in the brief period that Captain America had been active. After the man had gone down in the service of wiping Red Skull off the map, well. That he was meeting the man now, of all times, when the two of them were more or less on opposite sides … Not enemies. Not yet. But close enough to be uncomfortable. After years of weathering Charles' disappointed looks and speeches, Magneto had thought himself immune to such castigation.

Having a fresh-faced child – because all other things aside, the Captain was roughly a quarter Magneto's age – take him to task should have been laughable. It should have been impossible to take him at all seriously. Yet, somehow, the disappointed glower on the Captain's face left Magneto with the urge to apologize for his misbehavior, and feeling vaguely ashamed of himself.

In the vernacular of today's youth … what even.

Caught unprepared, Magneto was willing to admit he reeled a bit under the Captain's verbal assault. Which, he though once he recovered somewhat, had probably been the point. To put him on the back foot temporarily at least, and hopefully to keep him there. Such a tactic was hardly unexpected – simply the way the tactic had been carried out. Captain America, regardless of his not being in uniform, packed a rather unexpected whallop.

Unfortunately for them, Magneto was made of sterner stuff. Yes, he'd been caught off guard, but he was hardly an untried, easily over-awed youth. Magneto shook off the hit, then, giving credit where it was due, shot both men a look that said 'well played'.

“I find myself … curious. You say that Charles and I are both wrong. That large-scale placation won't work. What, then, is your solution?” Magneto asked, his tone implying 'well, if you're so smart, what've you got?'.

(_)(_)(_)

Well, here went nothing, Steve thought.

Steve shrugged. “I don't have one.” He said. “I've only been … well, 'here' … for about half a year, now. I'm still getting the lay of the land, so to speak. And the situation mutants find themselves in is rather complicated. To be honest, I don't think there's any single strategy that will work everywhere – which is part of the problem. Some folks – some nations – will respond to one method better than another. Trying to use the same tactic with everybody is going to backfire spectacularly, no matter what the tactic is.”

Except, of course, the whole 'defending the planet' thing. That? Would work with pretty much everyone, especially once everyone figured out that they'd all be dead if it weren't for mutants kicking ass. But it was too early to tell Magneto that.

“All I know is that hiding or pulling stunts like the one you did.” And Steve couldn't have stopped the irritated, aggravated, disappointed glare he shot Magneto if he'd tried. “Won't work. Not all mutants can hide, for one. And a lot of the ones who can wouldn't want to. Not to mention none of you should have to, just to survive.” Steve's glower increased, but this time got aimed to one side of Magneto as this time it was aimed at not-present idiots.

“As for what you pulled … “ Steve snorted. What was it Rogue had told him Magneto said at one point? Oh, right. That whole 'if I make them mutants, they'll be on our side' nonsense. “If you thought for one second that people forced to become something they hated and feared against their will would all of a sudden take mutants' side in world affairs … “ Steve shot Magneto a wide-eyed, scornful look that said 'I want some of what you were smoking.'. “I think I'm going to be a lot more worried about you than I started out being, but for entirely different reasons.”

Also known as 'if you believe that shit, you're batshit insane'. Without actually coming right out and saying it.

(_)(_)(_)

Loki was, again, trying very hard not to laugh. Or show his amusement. Really, in so many ways, working with Steven was virtually identical to working with Thor. And yet at the same time, it couldn't be more different if they tried. Both men tended to prefer devastating blows with blunt weapons. Steven just tended to have better aim verbally than Thor ever would.

Not to mention Steven was better at strategy and tactics that did not include blunt-instrument head bashing than Thor was at present. Much to Loki's bemusement, there did seem to be more of a chance that Thor would eventually learn that sort of strategy and tactics these days than he had credited Thor with previously. The big lummox finally seemed to be growing up a bit.

Now, to the matters at hand.

“Haste and intemperance make fools of even the best of beings.” Loki said. “I know whereof I speak. Not so many months ago, I myself was driven to … shall we say, less than well-thought-out action? … and paid an horrific price for my folly. It is no easy thing to be faced with something that everything in you rails against and yet not act rashly.”

Loki shot Magneto an honestly commiserating look. Because he really did get it. He'd just been lucky to have Thor, who would forgive him damn near anything. Not to mention the Avengers, most of whom had made poor decisions (many resulting in the death and/or maiming of innocents), paid the price for them. They, as a result, understood and were merciful towards someone who had done the same, and like themselves, wished to forge a better path.

Magneto, insofar as Loki knew, had only had Charles, who had a rather disturbingly Odin-esque air to him where certain matters were concerned. It certainly didn't help that Charles had been, like Thor, afforded every opportunity in life, and had faced very little in the way of hardship. Charles as a result simply did not understand – or believe – that anyone could ever be in a situation where their only choices were morally ambiguous at best, and driven by desperation and the need to survive at worst.

“There are other, better ways.” Loki said. “Hard to think of in the moment, but I do hope that you are now past that moment.” Said with that same air of 'you're better than that bullshit' Loki had used earlier. “Placation may not be possible, but another method does lie before all of mutant-kind. It is, perhaps, distasteful, but needs must. And this method will, at least, provide mutantkind with a certain level of tolerance at the very least.”

(_)(_)(_)

Magneto was definitely seeing why these two men had been sent. The Captain had all the subtlety of a runaway train, and to be honest, hit about as hard, both with words and looks. Loki, on the other hand, was far sneakier and more subtle. It made for a heck of a tag team.

Still, again, Magneto wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears child. He wasn't going to crumble so easily as this. Especially when he had a damn good idea of where Loki was going with his 'other method' to avoid mutants being slaughtered. Distasteful hardly even scratched the surface. It was his turn to glower now.

“Distasteful.” He parroted, his voice vibrating with anger. “I know what so-called 'method' you speak of. You would have us beg, you would have us be beasts of burden and trained pets. You would have us trade our 'usefulness' for the right to exist, and you call it 'distasteful'! It is anathema!”

By the time he got to the end of the last sentence, it was taking everything he had not to stomp around the cell, shout and rage, or even physically attack the two of them. Or worse, call metal to him and strike them down. He was, by the end of his rant, shaking slightly with the effort it took to remain in control. To keep his voice relatively calm.

He wasn't quite prepared for what got said next.

(_)(_)(_)

Steve mentally whistled. Off the rails he might be, but Magneto was every bit as passionate about this (understandably) as Steve got about bullies.

“You're right.” Steve said, and fought down the grin at Magneto's startle at the proclamation. “It is anathema. Actually, it's worse than that. It's stupid and shouldn't be necessary at all. People should be better than that. Unfortunately, they're not, and we've got to work with the hand we're dealt.”

He sighed. “The thing is, Mr. Lensherr, that the whole mutant thing scares the pants off of a lot of people. Even mutants themselves, from what I understand. They don't know what the heck is going on, why people are changing, how they're suddenly able to do things that shouldn't be possible. Worse, some of the things mutants are capable of are utterly terrifying. Just to complicate the problem, scared people get stupid and do stupid things.”

“People in general need to see that mutants and mutations can be something other than terrifying.” Steve continued. “I mean, they should be able to extrapolate – for goodness' sake, it's pretty obvious that something like what you can do could save tens of thousands of lives, if that ability was put to use, say, helping in the aftermath of earthquakes or other natural disasters that wreak havok on cities and towns. It shouldn't need to be demonstrated, but … “ Steve lifted his hands in a 'what can you do' sort of expression.

“And before you say it, yes, I know, that sort of thing won't convince everyone.” Steve sighed. “There are some real pieces of work out there, and I know that.” Then Steve leveled a look at Magneto. It was a look the Commandos had seen fairly frequently. A look of blazing, righteous determination and a stubborn refusal to ever quit. It was, in point of fact, an expression that had inspired not just a nation to win a war, but people all over the globe to put their foot down and call bullshit on things they knew were wrong.

“Them, you leave to me.” Steve growled. “Because the one thing my 'press' got right? I hate bullies. And yeah, you crossed the line into bully territory, but they took a flying leap over the line first. I will have absolutely no problem with calling every last one of them on their idiocy, or stomping all over the ones that decide mutants aren't people and therefore can be tortured and experimented on with impunity.”

Yeah. That last one most sincerely pissed Steve off, and it showed in his voice. What had been done to James? That was completely, totally, and utterly horrifying and if Steve ever found any of the people responsible …

“And I have a few friends who will be more than happy to help.” Steve continued. “Some of whom have a personal stake in this, because either they are mutants or they're friends with people who are.”

Well, calling Tony a friend might be stretching it a little bit for the moment. The two of them got along pretty well, but Steve wasn't quite sure if Tony considered him a friend yet. Steve still didn't know the details (and wouldn't pry unless he had damn good reason to), but he'd gotten that Tony's life hadn't lent itself to allowing Tony to trust easily. That said, Tony was good friends with Warren Worthington, who was a mutant, and Steve couldn't imagine Tony tolerating Warren being labeled, at best, a second class citizen or, at worst, a 'thing'.

Yeah, no. That would go over like a lead balloon. So Steve knew Tony would have no problem whatever with putting every scrap of money and influence he had into keeping mutants out of that kind of situation. Nor would he have a problem repulsoring people in the face if they decided to use mutants as test subjects for whatever twisted goal they had in mind.

“And that's the important thing. You're not fighting this alone, not anymore. Charles?” Steve made a face. “Well, he does have his uses. He's good for teaching kids how to control what they can do, if nothing else. But as the leader for fighting for mutant rights, he was … kind of useless.”

Mostly because Charles refused to fight.

And Magneto was, understandably, on the panicky and flail-y, 'violent resolution' side of things, desperate to not, you know, have all of mutant-kind wiped out, even temporarily. Because it was pretty clear to Steve that it would definitely be temporary. Whatever was causing mutants to come into existence, more and more were being born every day, by otherwise totally normal people. So even if the current population got wiped out, in another fifteen or twenty years, there'd be another crop of them popping up.

The point being, there wasn't anyone taking center stage for mutant rights in a way that wouldn't make things worse.

“I may not be a mutant, but I'm also not human-normal, and let's be real here, the folks that are all up in arms about mutants would be up in arms about someone like me too, so it's not like I don't have a stake in this fight. And honestly, even if I didn't, I still hate bullies. I'm not going to let this lie.” Steve growled. “All I need from you is to … not make things worse.”

Steve sat back. “I'm not asking you to agree to anything. Not right now. We.” He indicated Loki and himself. “Will be coming by now and again. We'll talk more. Maybe, in a few months or a year or whatever, you'll be convinced we're taking this seriously, doing something about it, and be okay with not causing a ruckus if you're ever released.”

Chapter Text

Gamora and Peter Quill

(_)(_)(_)

Thanos was utterly, completely, and totally insane in the worst of ways. He had no morals, no empathy, no nothing. Only a bottomless, unfathomable and unquenchable desire to kill, maim, and torture – mostly kill – everything in his path. What made this worse was that Thanos was not the sort of insane that was stupid and ineffectual. For all his insanity, his intelligence remained intact, and he was capable of making cunning, well-thought-out and long-reaching plans. He was capable of pretending, at least in the short term, to be something other than batshit insane. Especially when such pretense somehow furthered his goal to kill everything in his path.

Long and long ago, Thanos realized that for all his power, he could not be in two places at one time. He needed lieutenants to act in his stead when his plans required his presence in more than one place. Over the millennia, he … fashioned … himself such lieutenants by means of coercion, blackmail, torture, brainwashing and flat-out mind control. When they were killed or outlived their usefulness one way or another, he replaced them.

Gamora, and her 'sister', Nebula, were but the latest in a long line of such lieutenants.

In their cases, Thanos had done what his warped, twisted, insane mind was capable of to make both females think of him as a father figure. This, of course, included wiping out their real families (along with, it had to be said, the rest of their species as a whole) and then convincing them he 'saved' them from the depredations of the being who had wiped out their planet, their people, and their families. It helped his deception that there were, in fact, beings or groups of beings capable of such other than himself.

For her part, Gamora had been a toddler when Thanos had claimed her. She had but the vaguest of memories of her parents. For decades, Thanos fed her naught but lies. Manipulated her. Experimented on her and altered her body and even her mind under the guise of making her 'better able to serve him'.

For a long time, those faint memories of her parents got lost under the weight of all Thanos did and said. For a long time, Gamora was Thanos' willing, eager lieutenant, obeying his commands and exercising his will without mercy or compunction. It did not help matters that Nebula remained wholly, fanatically loyal to Thanos, thus encouraging Gamora's own loyalty to him.

But somewhere along the way, there came a day when Gamora began to perceive that something was not right in how she had been raised and continued to live. Perhaps it was those half-buried memories. Perhaps it was her observations of families when she was out and about doing Thanos' bidding. Whatever it was, Gamora gradually became aware that something was definitely wrong.

It took a good deal of time after that for her to do more than perceive the wrongness. It had been ingrained in her – literally and extremely painfully – to never, ever, under any circumstances, defy or even disagree with Thanos. It took years before Gamora was capable of considering trying to get away from Thanos without freaking herself out.

At which point she was faced with a serious problem. If she refused to obey Thanos, or fled … well. She would be hunted down, very probably by Nebula, who remained unquestioningly loyal to her 'father'. Once brought before Thanos, Gamora had no doubts as to what her fate would be. The far side of the universe would hear her agonized screams. So for years, she pretended her loyalty out of fear. She had nowhere to run that Thanos could not follow, and no resources of her own to even attempt such a thing.

But then, 'he' came. Fell into their grasp, more properly. At first, he had offered no resistance. Gamora thought he might have been too battered, bruised, and worn from his fall to do anything right away. Within a day, he had perceived what sort of mad creature he had fallen into the grasp of. Yet, despite knowing Thanos would win, he hissed and spat and raged and fought. Even when his body had been beaten into submission, his mind refused to bend or break. It had taken Thanos taking control of his mind to silence his rebellion.

Even then, in the day or so he'd been thus before he'd been sent to fetch the Tesseract, Gamora had perceived flickers of grim determination and defiance in the depths of his eyes. As if he had yielded to the mind control before it could consume him utterly, or some such. But neither Thanos nor Nebula seemed to have perceived what Gamora had. Thus, she alone was unsurprised when he won free and promptly put what stop he could to Thanos' current scheme.

If he could do so, how could she do less?

First, though, she had to survive Thanos' tantrum over being thwarted. She, Nebula, and the Other all barely survived Thanos' wrath over that failure. Gamora had the sinking sensation that the only reason they'd survived was because Thanos still had need of them, and did not have the time to mold new lieutenants if he killed the three of them. Once he calmed down, Thanos sent both herself and Nebula on missions in his name.

He sent them to fetch him weapons. Specifically, the Infinity Stones. The Stones, which could not be destroyed by any means anyone had yet discovered, had long ago been scattered all over the known universe and hidden. It had taken Thanos millennia to track them down. Even now, he did not know the locations of all of them. The bad news being, he'd collected the Mind Stone a millennium ago. He'd known where the Power Stone and the Space Stone were at since before Gamora's birth, but had not yet collected them as he had been invested in building his army and finding the remaining Stones. It had only been 'his' appearance that had changed Thanos' plans.

Best of all, for Gamora's plans, Thanos was forced to send herself and Nebula in opposite directions. It would take Nebula weeks to get to where Gamora had been sent once word reached her of Gamora's defection. Better, Thanos would not be able to come for her himself. He had to guide the army he had built. He was the only one who knew the way to so-called Midgard from their remote corner of the universe. Best of all, Thanos would not be able to use the Mind Stone to regain control of her. Not without having some idea of where she was, to aim his strike at her. It was even conceivable the Mind Stone would not be able to reach that far even if he did know her exact location. Gamora didn't know the limitations of the Stones, after all, and she wasn't sure Thanos did either.

First, she would find the Stone. Whatever else happened, the Power Stone had to be kept out of Thanos' grasp. She would either find a way to destroy it, or, lacking that (because see the previous note on their indestructibility), flee to the far side of the universe with it and keep running to keep it out of Thanos' grasp. Or, perhaps, if she could find a way to get there before him, she would deliver it to those Thanos sought to destroy.

She was also considering hunting Nebula and putting a stop to her finding the Space Stone. With it, Thanos would be able to cut the trip short. Along with who knew what sort of other things. But Gamora was reluctant to contest with Nebula. Not out of any sort of warped sister-feeling, but simply because any contest between them would be fairly equal and very long, drawn out, and just plain ugly. Maybe if Gamora knew where the Space Stone was at and could get there faster than Nebula, she could have simply made off with it and left Nebula empty-handed. Unfortunately, Thanos had been bright enough to not tell either of them where, exactly, the other was going, and where the others' Stone was at.

Aside from the problems inherent in stopping Nebula, there was the fact that, at least in Gamora's opinion, the Space Stone was far less of a problem in Thanos' hands than the Power Stone. Yes, Thanos getting himself and his army there faster would be a problem, but not as big of a problem as Thanos, who already had a great deal of personal power, showing up with literally unlimited power.

Besides, the odds were very, very good that Nebula wouldn't manage to have the Space Stone in hand before she was sent to fetch Gamora. And even if she did, Thanos would not want her to waste time bringing the Stone to him before going after Gamora, especially if Gamora had the Power Stone in hand. Doing so would add a week or more to the time it would take Nebula to catch up to her. So there was a good chance that both Stones would be kept from Thanos' grasp. That possibility pleased Gamora.

(_)(_)(_)

The so-called 'ass-end of space' where Thanos had been banished by the Realms of Ygdrassil had long ago learned to fear him. And to resign themselves to their fate when he came calling. It had been proven time and again that Thanos could and would wipe out any planet – or entire galaxy, for that matter – that garnered his attention. No planet had ever successfully fought him off. A rare few had managed to temporarily beat him back, but he returned at a later date with a bigger army and/or better weapons and wiped them out.

There were usually a few survivors of such massacres, but with nowhere to call home, no money, and no other resources, they were forced to scrabble for a living. Little wonder, then, that most of this end of space had descended into lawlessness of one variety or another. There were still a few societies, like the Xandarians, who hadn't been wiped out and thus still had a functioning government, laws, and such. They attempted to keep some sort of law and order going as far as they could reach, but they were the exceptions to the rule and, to be honest, not all that effective outside of their own territories.

It was into this lawless scramble for whatever scraps of resources could be stolen that Peter Quill was abducted as a child. He was raised, if it could be called that, by the leader of one of the more organized groups of bandits. Yondu was cruel and vicious and ruled the Ravagers through fear, and 'raised' Peter in the same mold.

Both fortunately and not, Peter had been old enough at the time of his abduction to know and remember his upbringing and cling to it as best he could. He hadn't been entirely successful. His morals had got a bit bent and twisted out of sheer necessity. Despite Yondu's best attempts, Peter had never descended to Yondu's level. He stole and salvaged because it was either that or be killed, but he refused to be vicious, heartless, and cruel.

Even after he had managed to win some level of independence from Yondu, Peter had to be careful, to play the man's game. The ship he was 'renting' from Yondu was only capable of short hops from planet to planet within this galaxy. Not to mention, Peter was pretty sure there were failsafes in the ship that would allow Yondu to recall it if he so desired. Peter's ultimate goal was to figure out which way Earth was and steal a ship that could handle a journey of that length. Because while Peter was fairly sure that his grandfather and remaining family were either dead or had given him up for same by now, he did still want to get back to Earth.

Finding Earth was in no way as easy as it sounded. For one thing, Peter was, as far as he could tell, the only human anyone in this galaxy had ever seen. For another, no one here used the same names for galaxies as the folks back on Earth. Not that Peter had been able to remember more than 'Milky Way' by way of galaxies.

And Peter had absolutely no idea how long they'd traveled – or in what direction – after his abduction. He had been rather (understandably) freaked out at the time and hadn't paid any attention to such things even if he'd had access to them. So he couldn't even make an educated guess as to where to start looking.

But for once, Peter wasn't thinking about that, or how to placate Yondu without getting into more trouble than he was willing to tolerate. No, today Peter was worrying about something else entirely.

Thanos was on the move. Out of their general vicinity, which was surprising. Rumors as to his intended target were flying everywhere. Peter had also heard vague rumors that Thanos wanted a weapon. One that was hidden somewhere in this galaxy. He had, according to the rumors, sent someone after said weapon.

It hadn't taken much to convince Yondu that there was a profit to be made if they got to the weapon first. Yondu charged Peter with the task.

Of course, Peter had absolutely no intentions of surrendering such a weapon (if it, in fact, existed. Rumors could be very unreliable) to anyone. Not Yondu, not an emissary of Thanos', and for damn sure not to Thanos himself.

First, though, he had to get a better bead on the rumors, and figure out what was fact and what was fiction. If there wasn't actually a weapon, well, he'd find something to appease Yondu and go from there. If there was a weapon, well, the race was on.

Chapter Text

Tony and Tharginn Part 5

(_)(_)(_)

Tony was actually impressed. The folks they'd sort-of shanghaied for the whole 'shit is going down and your help is needed' talk had kept it together pretty well. Oh, there'd been suspicion, muttering, and very pointed looks doing the rounds, followed by more than a touch of wide-eyed horror (because Alien Invasion), but they all seemed to get that this was dead serious and in earnest. There hadn't been a single case of someone getting all up in someone else's face due to religion, race, sex, country of origin, or any other stupid 'difference'. Given some of the attendees, that was a heck of an accomplishment.

But what was really impressive was the geeks among the bunch. And make no mistake, there were geeks in every bunch, not just among the astronauts and astronaut wannabes. They'd all managed to hold it together fairly well until the end. There'd been a whole hell of a lot of wide eyes, awed expressions, and various hastily stifled noises of excitement, but they'd stayed in their seats and had more or less maintained at least some vague sense of dignity.

Tharginn's offer of sanctuary on Svartalfheim sort of broke the dam, as it were. It was a generous and absolutely necessary (at least for some) offer. That wasn't the problem. No, the problem was that the geeks had managed to keep their shit together while talking about a threat to Earth, but the offer of a chance to hang out on an alien planet? With real live aliens? Yeah. THAT nearly started a riot. Tony was kind of shocked no one resorted to literally knocking down and climbing over anyone else in their eagerness to accept the offer. There had been excited squealing and bouncing involved. Granted, Tony had done his own excited squealing and bouncing so he couldn't laugh at them too hard. Though he did snicker at the handful that looked like they just might faint.

Some of the folks who mobbed Tharginn were, though, in earnest about needing a place to go when, not if, their country went ape. China in particular, with its restrictive politics and policies, was very, very likely to throw a tantrum at its people acting without their government's say-so. Russia probably wouldn't be too much better, really. They might have a democracy now, but the old politics and policies still lingered. The other countries might get pissy, but they were a lot less likely to declare their people traitors to be shot on sight or the like.

Tony, Tharginn, and Palthor had worked together on the plans necessary to smuggle families out of the danger zone so they couldn't be used against any of the would-be participants in the defense of Earth. Tony had, rather obviously, been in charge of making it so the others knew who to pick up. It wasn't SI's usual bailiwick, but they did have a presence either in each of the twelve countries or in a country close enough to get across the border. The families would all get smuggled away from their homes to somewhere safer, mostly SI properties. Though American Embassies would also be used if they were more easily reachable. Once the families were on safe turf, The crew could teleport them onto the ship that'd be transporting everyone to Svartalfheim.

Tharginn, obviously, had been the one to offer to house folks, at least temporarily. Those that couldn't handle living underground (something they had no way of figuring out beforehand) would go to Vanaheim when that became clear. Palthor had offered the use of one of Vanaheim's troop transports for the job of transporting everyone. The Dwarves, who didn't go for land wars for the most part, didn't really have transports big enough to hold that many people. And even if they did, there was the height issue. The rooms in the ships were big enough. Dwarves, despite being short, appreciated a lot of space both vertically and horizontally when they could get it. The furniture wouldn't be the right size, though. Since the trip to Svartalfheim would take about a week – the troop transports were significantly slower than the small, fast ship that Tharginn and co had arrived in – that was a major problem.

Jarvis had, when they'd screened possible recruits, tracked down where those peoples' immediate families lived. Now, as each confirmed their willingness to throw down on Earth's behalf, Jarvis would be contacting the SI facility closest to the endangered families. Those facilities had all been forewarned that a security crew and transport truck would be needed, and were currently on standby. Those folks would be tucked away safely within the next four hours at the most. The transport from Vanaheim would be arriving within ten hours. An hour after that, everyone involved would be off planet and out of the reach of tetchy governments.

Tharginn handled the sudden mob pretty well. There was a moment of wide-eyed 'oh shit', but he'd rallied fast, and soon had everyone all but literally eating out of his hand. Tony figured the fact he didn't act like a rooty-snooty, better-than-you royal helped a lot. Despite being a king, Tharginn came off as an everyday working man. Tony had no idea if that was just him or what. Bestla had been similarly down to earth, so it could either be personalities, or species differences. Even Palthor and Frigga, for all they hadn't put on the elves' superior airs, couldn't really be mistaken for anything but royalty.

Tharginn wasn't the only one getting mobbed, either. Tharginn got the lion's share of the squealing geeks and the folks that legitimately needed sanctuary on Svartalfheim. Razden and Kimpana were fielding a good-sized chunk of the rest. Most of whom, from what Jarvis was translating, were deeply interested in schematics of the ships and in comparing battle strategies.

Fortunately, Razden had some schematics on hand. Part of the reason the Dwarves would be able to build ten ships in a year was that they weren't starting from scratch. They were using a pre-existing template for ships they'd built for Vanaheim. Ships from that Realm had been picked for two reasons.

Firstly, Vanaheim had far less of a problem with magic and long-distance weaponry than Asgard did, and their ship designs reflected that. Vanaheim ships were less troop transport (though they did have those) and more battleship than Asgardian ships. Thanks to the occasional dragon invasions (which, seriously? Dragons?), the ships were also loaded for bear. Secondly, the average height for Vanaheim natives was roughly three inches taller than the average height for US citizens. All the other Realms had a six inch or more average difference, with Dwarves being markedly shorter while everyone else was taller.

The smaller height difference meant less adjustments. The height of most seats, control panels, and the like wouldn't have to be adjusted at all. The adjustments required for other things would be only minimal, like how wide a control panel could be to have all the 'buttons and switches' be comfortably reachable from a seated position. Of course the actual controls themselves would be much simplified, but that was an entirely different discussion.

From the expansive, expressive gestures going on in the group around Kimpana – including Kimpana herself – a great time was being had by all in that group. Again, thanks to the choice of who to invite to this shindig, there wouldn't be a massive alteration in the humans' already established thought patterns, strategies, and tactics. They'd probably not be as effective as the purpose-trained crews of the other Realms, but given the time crunch they were dealing with, they were the best Earth had to offer.

(_)(_)(_)

Midgardians, Tharginn decided, were extremely entertaining. And he did not mean that in a condescending way. He had understandably assumed that Tony Stark was unique among his kind. In a way, he was. From what Tharginn had learned in the last few days, no one else on Midgard even came close to Tony's abilities with Midgardian technology. But in other ways, Tony seemed to be utterly normal.

Midgardians, for the most part, seemed to be driven in a way that the other Realm residents, even the Dwarves, had long since lost. Oh, his people were in better shape than the rest, but even the Dwarves had, over time, lost a great deal of their drive to discover, invent, and create new, groundbreaking things right this very moment. They still did all three, but on a much longer timescale than they once had.

That drive made Midgardians … almost wholly unpredictable. Because to someone used to living for millennia, they jumped from thing to thing with no apparent rhyme nor reason. It was utterly confounding, even to Tharginn, but he at least could appreciate and tolerate it. Some of the other Realm rulers weren't so lucky. Tharginn got a lot of amusement out of hearing the confounded mutterings of the ones who just couldn't seem to keep up.

Salar in particular had been comedy gold since Tony's visit to Alfheim. It was all but unheard of for someone to beat an elf at their own game, and Tony had done so with (from what Tharginn had heard – at great length – at any rate) little to no effort. Kavlos, the elfs' General, had been only marginally less entertaining than Salar had been. Kavlos, at least, had simply been confused as to how such a short-lived species could have gotten so far as they had, and be able to keep up with the longer-lived Realm residents. Especially, given Elvish prejudices, since Midgardians had no magic. Though apparently, Tony and Loki had contrived to make it look like Tony, at least, had magic.

Salar had been half a step from having a full-on, legitimate, childish temper tantrum over Tony's antics. Mostly the bit where Tony had had the utter gall to dismiss Salar as unimportant and bypass him for Kavlos. Which, at least in this instance, Salar was, actually, unimportant. Thanks entirely to how the elves had divided their society. It was the Dark elves that fought, not the Light ones. While Salar controlled when they were allowed to do so, beyond saying 'have at it', he had no part in the war effort. That was left to the elves who knew how to wage war.

This bunch of Midgardians were entertaining in a different way. While some of them were able to stay calm and reasonable, most of the ones that had approached him were comparable to an overly-excited toddler presented with a new, much desired toy. Tony's reactions to Dwarvish craft and abilities had been amusing enough, on Svartalfheim. These folks were squealing and bouncing over just the existence of so-called 'aliens' and spaceships, even without having actually seen the latter. Tharginn was very hard put to keep from laughing at their antics.

That said, despite their over-excited demeanors, many of them were still able to ask intelligent, insightful questions. Things like the differences between Svartalfheim's atmosphere and gravity and Midgard's, which, if they were different enough (like with Jotunheim) would present difficulties in living on the Realm for Midgardians. Nothing the Midgardians couldn't compensate for, but they needed to know before they could do so. Thankfully, Svartalfheim, while different, was not nearly so different from Midgard as Jotunheim was, so there was no need for specialist equipment of any kind to live there. The living underground would actually be the greatest challenge, if the reactions of other Realm residents were anything to go by. Beings used to seeing the sun and sky every day tended to have a time of it adjusting to living underground.

Right about the time the worst of the crush was easing and talk was starting to turn to more trivial matters (like what sort of life forms other than Dwarves called Svartalfheim home), Tony gave Tharginn a thumbs up, then stepped forward.

“Right. Everyone pipe down for a second!” Tony called, and, to Tharginn's surprise, got the quiet he asked for. “Everyone that's asked for sanctuary – your immediate families, meaning living grandparents, parents, siblings, their spouses and kids, your spouses and kids, are all now on SI properties and being kept safe. A transport ship will be arriving within about six hours to take them all to Svartalfheim, along with those of you who will be assisting with the building of the ships.” Tony told them.

“Those of you who plan on being ship crews, a dozen Vanaheim battleships will be arriving with the transport, so you can get a gander and also help the Vanaheim crews familiarize themselves with our solar system.” Tony continued. “Dwarvish crews and ships will be arriving the day after to familiarize themselves with the solar system. The future ship crews will head for Svartalfheim in a few weeks' time. Until then, you'll be living on a second Vanaheim troop transport that will be in orbit around Mars.” Well out of reach of anyone on Midgard at this time, Tharginn knew. “This is due to the rest of the Realms sending their own space fleet representatives over the next week to familiarize themselves with the system.”

Well, the rest of the Realms that had fleets and used them to make war, that was. Which was down to the elves and Asgardians, since Jotunheim had no fleet at all, and the Nidavellir had only a small fleet that hadn't been used since Thanos had been driven from the Realms. At least, not for making war. Some of the fleet (the transports) had been converted to trade ships, allowing the Nidavellir to obtain what few things they could not make themselves without having to step foot on another Realm. Even those converted trade ships were seldom used, making perhaps one trip a decade or so. The few remaining warships would be crewed and brought to the fight, but it would take longer than for the other Realms, as the Nidavellir were more or less having to re-learn how to work those ships.

There was a collective sigh of relief from the folks who had been most serious about requiring sanctuary. Followed quickly by a renewal of the excited chatter of earlier over meeting yet more 'aliens' and getting to poke about on their spaceships. And live in space, even if only for a few days.

The folks here were safe enough for the next few hours until the transports arrived. Tharginn watched as Tony pointed everyone in the direction of refreshments and the facilities they would need to create blueprints or access other necessary information from Midgard's computers and/or 'internet'.

Chapter Text

Darcy

(_)(_)(_)

With one of the more stubborn and prone-to-ignoring-everything Science Squad members away doing other things, Darcy had thought she'd be in for a bit of a lull in her activity level. She had quickly been disabused of that notion. Someone – and she was betting it was Tony – had tattled on her to the PR division. Which had promptly been all too willing to make use of her poli-sci degree and avowed fondness for social media.

Given the poodoo Darcy knew for fact was going to be hitting the fan, she hadn't even tried to demur. If she was really honest with herself, she had actually looked forward to her time on the PR floor. While it wasn't exactly what she'd originally planned to do with her life in the wake of getting that degree, it was a very close approximation. Better, it was in much better conditions than Darcy could have ever hoped for short of managing to get hired by the POTUS. SI's PR floor had what amounted to 'on-call' rooms, for goodness' sake. Rooms with bunkbeds and attached bathrooms for people to crash out in when things got nuts and going home wasn't an option.

She'd been slotted into one of the existing groups watching the Hill as an extra pair of eyes, legs, and analyzer of data. The team was one of the smaller five-man teams. Specifically, one of the Information Acquisition teams. They generated the information that the Media teams required to create their magic with media statements, advertisements, etc. She'd had a lot of fun working with them over the last few days.

The dam had finally broken a little after dusk NYC time when the Vanaheim troop transports and their escorts had arrived. As they, unlike Tharginn and co, hadn't even bothered to attempt stealth in their arrival, they'd been spotted by pretty much everyone with a telescope or satellite focused on the right area at the right time. Darcy was fairly sure that some folks in governments and even more who wore camo were seriously considering aiming rockets (or worse) in the ships' direction. Pepper had immediately called a press conference for first thing in the morning. Which was going to be all kinds of fun, and Darcy got to be there for it. Along with Natasha. Oh, and Dr. McCoy.

Darcy had giggled for a good five minutes straight when she heard who Pepper had picked as representatives for the X-Men and Avengers. There was absolutely no chance that Pepper wasn't trolling the holy hell out of the press and the world in general with that pair-up. Natasha succeeded in being terrifying without even appearing to have to try, despite not being physically imposing in the least. Hank, on the other hand, pretty much embodied everything people were scared shitless of in mutants. He was freaking huge, physically imposing as hell, and looked only vaguely human if you squinted just right. Yet he was one of the sweetest, gentlest, most inoffensive people Darcy had ever met. Not to mention one of the smartest.

The press were going to take one look at that pair up and glom onto Natasha. Who was short and petite and, more importantly, female. Because despite having dealt with Pepper (and other fierce females) for years, the press persisted in considering women easy targets. Natasha was going to destroy them. It was going to be glorious.

Darcy was to represent the Geek Squad. Normally, that would be Tony but since he was busy at the moment, someone else got drafted. The rest of the Geek Squad were bad choices for one reason or another – unfamiliarity with Earth in Loki's case, the chance of a Hulk-out (due to someone else's stupidity), or just not being good at handling the sort of pressure the press could bring to bear. All of which meant Darcy had gotten the nod. With that in mind, she'd torn herself away from the PR floor earlier than she had the last couple days with the intention of getting some sleep. But first she checked in on her geeks.

She was worried about Erik. And she wasn't the only one. Clint at least 'seemed' to be handling the whole mind-controlled-minion thing. Whether or not he actually was handling it, Darcy wasn't sure. Erik, on the other hand, had visibly started to fall apart at the seams despite everything she, Jane, and Thor (not to mention the rest of the Avengers) had done to try to help him. Fortunately, Sam's arrival seemed to have at least slowed down Erik's crash, if it hadn't stopped it entirely. Still, Erik was … yeah. There were a few screws loose in there at the moment, and it was worrying.

She found him sprawled half across a table, sound asleep, whiteboard marker in one hand and drooling on a couple sheets of paper covered in writing she couldn't get a good look at with him sprawled all over them. The whiteboard behind him was covered in incomprehensible scribbles. They weren't incomprehensible because Darcy didn't understand the science behind them. Whatever that mess was, Erik seemed to have been writing in more than one language. She recognized two or three different languages (going by writing differences, since she couldn't read them) and what looked like runes, of all things, in the mess. Alongside a ton of half-finished, really complicated looking mathematical formulas.

Fortunately, he'd fallen asleep in a roly-chair. With a little careful effort, she managed to tip him back into it and roll him to the cot at the back of the lab, then dump him into the cot and cover him up without waking him up. She tidied up the papers on the table, but left them out where Erik could find them in the morning.

“Jarvis, once I'm out of the lab, cut the lights, would you? And make sure someone brings him some breakfast, since I won't be able to.” Darcy said quietly. “Oh, and if you'd record all of what's on the whiteboard, and ask Jane if she can make heads or tails of it when she comes in tomorrow.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis.” Jarvis said.

The rest of the 'star lab' was empty. Thor had probably dragged Jane off. Darcy both tried not to imagine why, and not be envious as all hell. Because seriously. Her mind went places, ok? And it was glorious. She'd seen enough of the merchandise to work with. But at the same time, bad Darcy. Because Thor was not hers to mentally drool over.

Bruce and Betty's lab was dark and quiet when she peeked in, indicating they'd taken themselves off to bed already. Not unusual for that duo. Tony's lab, though, was brightly lit, visible through the opaque window in the door, which gave her pause.

While Tony had given all of the Geek Squad, as well as John, permission to be in his lab whenever, Darcy could count the number of times someone had been in the lab when Tony wasn't on one hand with fingers left over. Far's she knew, nothing had happened to upset John recently (interesting how his need to play with fire had dropped dramatically since he arrived at the Tower.). Maybe someone hadn't actually gone to bed the way she thought? Tony's lab had fabrication equipment, and if they needed something … Well, whoever it was, it was past midnight and therefore bedtime.

The door slid open at her approach, and she stopped dead in her tracks in shock. It wasn't one of the Geek Squad. Or, well, not a member of the Midgard Geek Squad, anyway. Because despite not really looking or acting the part, Loki definitely qualified as a geek.

And it was Loki in the lab, standing in the center of the open space between the work tables. He was surrounded by a miniature nova of green and gold magic, even his eyes glowing with it, expression one of fierce concentration. Floating in the glowing magic was … well, it took Darcy a moment to figure out what it was she was seeing. Mostly because she was doing the bug-eyed routine at the display of magic.

If there was one thing Darcy had figured out about Loki, it was that he had a tendency to conceal just how powerful he was magically. They'd been told repeatedly that he was one of the strongest mages in the Realms, but he tended to stick to minor little bits of magic. Whether that was just him conserving his strength for when he really needed it, or him trying to avoid conflict by not flaunting his magic (fuck you very much, Asgard in general and Odin in particular), Darcy didn't know.

This? Well, Darcy had no idea if this was Loki really putting his back into his magic, but it was definitely about ten levels above anything else they'd seen him do so far. Except maybe those fireballs when Farbauti showed up. It was awesome and awe inspiring. As for what he was working on, Darcy finally figured out that it was the component parts of Clint's arrows. The shafts and separated heads. As Darcy watched, some started to be marked by glowing runes, only to be flicked away and replaced by unmarked ones which got marked in their turn. At a rate of speed that was dizzying.

Darcy took a couple steps back, well aware that unexpectedly disrupting what Loki was doing could prove horrifically disastrous.

“Jarvis, do me a favor? Start some kind of really discordant noise? Really low and quiet, but start to jack up the volume until he responds to it. I don't want to call out to him and startle him.” She whispered quietly.

“Of course, Miss Lewis.” Jarvis said, equally quietly.

Jarvis started up the requested noise so quietly that Darcy couldn't even hear it at first. Once it got a bit louder, she grinned. He'd gone for a noise that sounded remarkably like a machine breaking down, and started it from a speaker near the fabrication machines.

Given that Tony's fabricators had been going damn near nonstop, and were, in fact, going even now, it was a brilliant choice. It took less than half a minute for the noise to garner Loki's attention. The ferocious look faded away, as did the frankly impressive display of magic as Loki turned towards the fabricators without realizing Darcy was just outside the door.

“Hey Loki.” She called. “Sorry about interrupting your groove there, but it's getting pretty late.”

Loki turned back towards her, blinking a bit owlishly for a few more seconds before he apparently got with the program. “Ah. I see. So Stark's machines are not, in fact, breaking down.”

“Nope.” Darcy said. “I just figured yelling your name or anything like that might not have been the best idea. If Harry Potter has taught me anything, it's that screwing up magic tends to end really, really badly.”

Loki let out a laugh. “Quite so.” He agreed.

“So, what was it you were doing?” Darcy asked. “I mean, I recognized Clint's arrows, but … “

For a moment, it looked like Loki was going to clam up and refuse to say. Then, after a moment, he sighed. “I owe Agent Barton and Dr. Selvig a weregild. I sincerely believe both of them would refuse a literal weregild outright.”

Darcy cocked her head. Weregild … she'd heard that term before. When she'd been reading up on the 'Norse gods' in the wake of Thor's first trip to Earth. Now what … Oh! Right. Old term for 'you break it, you bought it', basically. Only it was applicable to people as well as things. And yeah. She could definitely see both Clint and Erik point-blank refusing such a thing. Like money would make what they'd been through all better.

“Yeah, I can see that. So you're … what?” Darcy asked.

“I know not what to do for Dr. Selvig, but a workable solution in Agent Barton's case was quite a simple matter. His weapon of choice, being long range, runs out of ammunition. Unlike most Midgardian firearms, there is only so much ammunition he can carry at any one time. So I am in the process of enchanting both the arrows and his quiver to enable him to have, I believe the Midgardian phrase is 'bottomless clips'? At any rate, once I have enchanted the quiver, the heads and shafts will be replaced as they are used. Further, any undamaged shafts and re-usable heads will be returned here to be used again.” Loki told her.

Wow. Just wow. And apparently, he had to enchant the shafts and heads individually, hence the rather stunning display when she'd walked in.

“Yeah, Clint is going to love that. Only ever having to lug around a single quiver, but never running out of arrows? Yeah. That will definitely make him a happy camper.” Darcy said.

She wasn't sure about it getting Clint to forgive and/or trust Loki, but Clint had already been making a point of not being antagonistic with Loki. This would make not flat-out hating Loki that little bit easier. Maybe. Darcy didn't know Clint all that well, after all. He was one of the quieter, more private Avengers.

“And the phrase you were looking for is 'bottomless magazines'. You were close – the containers that hold bullets for guns are sometimes called clips. Mostly the ones for hand guns. The stuff civilians can buy and use. Magazines is used mostly with military-grade guns. Because the containers hold more bullets, I think.” Darcy told him.

Loki visibly filed that information away. “Ah, thank you.” He said. “Learning the idioms of any language can be … quite challenging.”

Darcy chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. I only speak a few words here and there of a few languages. Mostly cuss words, yes, no, and 'sorry, don't speak the language'.”

She started heading for the elevator. Loki followed – after cocking an eyebrow at her to make it clear he knew what she was doing, and was humoring her. Darcy grinned right back at him.

“So that's what you've been working on lately, huh? I know Tony's been making or buying… well, a metric fuckton of everything he can think of. Bullets, replacement Bites and their parts for Natasha, replacement web spinners and parts for Peter, so on and so forth. Last I looked, he had an entire huge container of shafts and another of heads for Clint's arrows. You looked to be going at a pretty good clip, but I don't think even at that pace, you'd have got everything done today.”

And now Loki was giving her a funny look. Like he wasn't entirely sure she was real. Which, on reflection, Darcy decided made clear that Loki had probably been downplaying his magical ability to avoid conflict, rather than conserving his strength.

Could she pretty please with sugar on top go back to Asgard – with her tazer, thanks muchly – and fry Odin with it? While bitching him out? God. Talk about pissing her off.

“What? That was awesome to see, Loki. I know you're used to people being assholes about magic, but most folks here on Earth get a kick out of that. Even the fake stuff, like what David Copperfield does. Admittedly, it probably drives science types bonkers, but that's mostly because they want to know how things work. So unless you're ready to answer, like, ten thousand questions I wouldn't let Tony or Jane see you doing that. Bruce and Betty both seem to have a little more self control than Jane and Tony, so you'd probably be safe from getting bombarded with questions if they saw that.”

“And yourself?” Loki asked.

“Totally have questions.” Darcy admitted. “I just have enough self control to not blurt them out and demand answers.”