Chapter Text
“You know what the problem with being a superhero is?” Scott lamented, twisting the cap off his cheap beer.
“Chafing,” Luis guessed immediately.
“What? No! Well, maybe a little…”
“Getting fired,” he rapidly guessed again.
“Hey, I wasn’t fired! I wasn’t an Avenger, I was…an anti-Avenger. A rebel! You can’t get fired from a rebellion,” Scott insisted.
“Scott,” Maggie called from inside the house, where she could clearly hear him through the open window. “We talked about using the ‘A’ word.”
“Sorry, honey!” Scott called back reflexively.
“Scott,” Paxton said more sternly. “We talked about that, too.”
“Sorry, honey!” Scott repeated and Paxton’s sigh was audible even where they sat on the porch.
“I got it,” Luis said confidently. “It’s getting thrown in jail by Iron Man, then serving house arrest at your ex-wife’s house, cuz her fiancé was the only one willing to assume custody from the brass.”
“Politics, Luis,” Scott told him flatly, scowling. “I was going to say that politics are the problem with being a superhero.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure. That makes sense, too, bro,” Luis agreed jovially and clicked his bottle against Scott’s.
Slumping back in his chair, Scott sighed and took a long pull of beer, glaring at the anklet blinking up at him from his leg. He didn’t regret signing on to Team Cap two years ago, because who could regret helping Captain America, but he definitely wished that he hadn’t gotten caught. Looking back at it now, he wasn’t entirely sure what his thought for the end game had been. He’d been so spun up in everything that was going on that he forgot about his most important rule. Before you do the job, you get the facts and make a plan.
Scott had been flattered when Cap came to break him out of the Raft, though he knew it probably had more to do with his cellmates than a personal bond between them, but he’d respectfully declined. Breaking out only assured that he would become a fugitive again, and that meant no Cassie. As much as he loved being the Ant-Man, nothing was more important to Scott than his daughter.
Fortunately his gamble worked, though it rankled that Tony Stark had arranged for his release from the Raft on account of his good conduct. Given that without the Pym tech Scott Lang was fairly unremarkable compared to the Raft’s other occupants, the JTF was hardly fussed to be rid of him. Not that it stopped them from outfitting Scott with the latest and greatest in ankle monitors, which he could break out of in his sleep, but he was on his very best behavior. Spending the last eight months trapped in this house had been unquestionably the most emasculating experience of Scott’s life, but at least he got to see Cassie every day.
“Yo, dude…check that guy across the street!” Luis whispered excitedly, leaning toward Scott. “Isn’t that an Avenger?”
Scott looked up in surprise and immediately got to his feet when he recognized Sam Wilson standing across the street as though he weren’t a wanted man, wearing a pair of aviators and a smirk that meant business. His heart raced, because despite what he’d just said about superheroes, Scott missed being one. But he also glanced about nervously because he knew that he was under surveillance. His favorite new accessory wasn’t really about him at all…Scott was fully aware that what the JTF really wanted was Hank.
Sam started across the street with a swagger that was just so damn cool, but Scott anxiously flapped his hands at him as though to shoo him away. “Hey, no, are you crazy?” he whispered loudly at him.
“Relax, Tic Tac,” Sam said with a grin. “Already took care of it. We need to talk.”
“Hey, man, you’re Falcon, right?” Luis asked eagerly, pulling out his phone. “Can I get a picture?”
“Luis, he’s a fugitive,” Scott hissed at him, quickly reaching out to snatch his phone away.
“Aw, come on, that photo’d get me in like that with the chicks, Scotty!” Luis complained, trying to get his phone back.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine without my help,” Sam said with an amused grin.
“Hey, didn’t Scott like, beat your ass as an audition for the Avengers?”
Sam’s grin faded and he gave Scott a look, who smiled nervously in return. “Should we maybe talk inside? We should talk inside. Bye, Luis!” he said pointedly and tossed his friend back his phone before grabbing Sam’s arm and hauling him inside the house before anyone else could spot him. “Hey, I’ve got a visitor, I’ll just be a minute, nothing important!” He spoke rapidly to keep Maggie and Paxton from processing the information right away and hustled Sam up the stairs to shove him in the linen closet. Stepping in beside him, Scott shut them in to the confined space and let out a breath.
“Dude,” Sam said severely. “What the actual fuck.”
“I don’t know! It’s not like I have a lot of privacy available to me right now, okay?” Scott blustered, flipping on the light so at least they weren’t also in total darkness. “What are you even doing here?”
Still perturbed by the too-close quarters, Sam looked as though he was very much regretting his decision to come. “I thought I knew. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Sam.”
“Seriously not cool, I’m just saying,” Sam told him frankly, then relented. “Look, there’s a chance something big is coming. I’m talking world-ending big.”
Scott’s heart, which had yet to slow since Sam’s sudden reappearance in his life, suddenly shuddered to a halt at that. “What is it? Is it Stark? Did he build more evil robots?” Eyes widening, Scott gasped softly. “Did he build a giant evil robot?”
“What? No, dude, Tony’s got nothing to do with it. I think. And I can’t tell if you’re upset or excited.”
“Me either!” Scott admitted with a short, desperate laugh. “So what is it, then?”
“We…don’t know. Not yet.”
“Okay, so…when will it get here?”
“Don’t know that either,” Sam sighed.
Scott stared at Sam for a moment, then blinked. “Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” he said slowly. “You want me to break the law, again, because something may or may not be about to happen. And you don’t know what or when or why or if it’s happening.”
“Come on, man, you can’t be happy with…this,” Sam insisted, gesturing at the closet. “Two years ago, you were fighting alongside Avengers. And now? I just watched you drink a Bud Light, Scott.”
“It was a Bud Light Lime,” Scott murmured defensively.
“Scott.”
He grimaced and scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing heavily. “I just…can’t, Sam. I’m sorry, I really am. I’d love nothing more than to pop the lock on this anklet and run off to save the world with you, but…I can’t do that to Cassie. I just have to get through another six months of this and then I’m back on regular old parole.”
“They’re not going to stop, Scott…you know that, right?” Sam asked him grimly. “They want that tech.”
Scott smiled wryly at him, because he did know, but he couldn’t dwell on the thought. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity in all this. “I don’t even have the suit anymore. I’m not like you and the others…without it, I’m not a genius or a soldier or a spy. I’m just a pretty okay cat burglar.”
Brow furrowed, Sam stared at him for a beat, looking torn between wanting to shut him down and build him up. Whatever he might have decided on was interrupted by Maggie pulling open the closet door to stare inside. She looked between the pair of them slowly, then gave her ex-husband a long, searching look.
“Scott,” she began, taking a breath as though to fortify herself. “Why are you hiding in the closet with an Avenger?”
“Well, Maggie,” he said seriously. “We always wondered why it could never work out between us…”
“Dude,” Sam said again as Maggie sighed heavily.
He gave them both a sheepish grin and reached out to grab the doorknob. “Just give me a minute, okay?” Scott closed the door on Maggie’s disapproving scowl and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got to put my family first this time.”
Recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know. And I get it…you’re a lucky guy, Scott. You might think that you’re not one of us without the suit, but you’ve got more than most of us do. Here,” he pulled something from his pocket that rattled and pressed it into Scott’s hand. “In case you change your mind.” Giving him a smile and a nod, he pushed open the door of the closet and stepped out, apologizing to Maggie for dropping by unannounced as he left.
“Huh,” Scott grunted thoughtfully as he considered Sam’s parting words, glancing down at his hand.
He grinned when he saw the pack of Tic Tacs he was holding, chuckling wryly, then paused as he noticed something dark among the little white mints. Holding it up to the light, Scott’s breath caught as he recognized the miniaturized lines of the Ant-Man suit, nestled in among its Tic Tac brethren. Heart racing again, Scott grinned at the plastic mint box and tucked it safely into his front pocket. Just in case.
“Rotate your hand for me. Now the other way. Are you sure there’s no delay there?”
“Shuri, it’s fine,” Steve heard Bucky say as his Dora Milaje escort led him into the lab. He nodded his thanks to her and peered down over the walkway, but Steve couldn’t see his old friend among the clean lines of the work tables and myriad of futuristic prototypes laid out on the floor below.
“Fine? Fine? This is the most advanced prosthetic on the face of the Earth, I think it’s a lot better than fine,” Shuri scolded and Steve’s steps faltered in descending the ramp because Bucky laughed.
“Okay, it’s swell. Dandy? Ducky,” he teased her and Shuri groaned in response.
“You are actually the worst, you know that? I should put you back in the freezer,” she threatened, and Steve could see her brandishing a long pointed instrument at Bucky as he finally caught sight of them, tucked in an alcove beneath the spiral descent.
“I doubt that’ll fix him, ma’am,” Steve said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Stupid like that is incurable.”
“Captain Rogers!” Shuri greeted him with a bright grin, her braids swaying as she bobbed her head. “They told me you brought presents!”
Beside her, Bucky’s grin faded at the sight of him and Steve felt a sharp pain at the guilty, resigned look that replaced his easy smile. Clearing his throat lightly, he managed to give Shuri a nod. “Sure did, Highness. Natasha said that one of the crates was labeled ‘weaponized hoverboards’.”
“Cool,” she said eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “I bet I can make them even cooler if you give me an hour. Probably less. We can make you like Marty McFly, eh?” Shuri nudged Bucky with her elbow, then paused as she finally noticed the change in his demeanor. Her eyes widened slightly as she rapidly deduced the cause and she turned more fully toward Bucky, whispering fiercely. “No… Are you serious?”
Bucky gave her a look and Steve felt awkward that he could hear everything she said with his enhanced hearing, shifting a little where he stood. “For Bast’s sake… You are so stupid! I should beat you over the head with your own arm!”
“Shuri,” Bucky said in a quelling tone and she tossed up her hands.
“Bah,” she declared in disgust and raised her voice again. “Well I’m just going to go do some work. Over there. Let you two catch up.” Shuri jabbed at Bucky with the instrument she was still holding before pushing past him with a withering look.
They watched her go in a tense silence, neither speaking as they regarded one another. Steve’s throat felt dry and cracked from all the questions burning in it, but for now he simply looked at Bucky, taking in all that had changed since he went into cryosleep two years ago. Bucky had lost weight, yet stood taller, which Steve guessed meant that the new arm was vibranium, no longer demanding that bone and flesh compensate for the weight of lesser alloy. More than that, he’d finally lost the brittle pain that he’d worn like a mask, leaving his eyes devoid of everything Steve knew and loved. And Steve did love him…oh God did he love him.
Bucky, who had been taking in Steve in just the same way, suddenly gave him a wry smile that pulled at his heart. “Your mother would have chased you with a switch to see you wear your hair that long.”
A startled laugh pulled from Steve and he shook his head, gesturing at him. “Look who’s talkin’, buddy.”
Grinning, Bucky ducked his head slightly and brushed metal fingers through the thick mane of his hair. “Yeah…I keep meaning to cut it, but-“
“It looks good,” Steve said quickly, then flushed. “You…you look good, Buck.”
His grin fading, guilt rose in Bucky’s expression again and his eyes tightened somewhat. “I’m sorry, Steve. I should have told you.”
“Why didn’t you?” Steve wondered softly, wanting to fold his arms for how exposed he felt.
“At first…I wanted to be sure it would stick,” Bucky admitted. “I couldn’t trust myself, what they did to me. I didn’t want to put you through that again.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the wall of the alcove, sighing. “After a while, I knew I was just using that as an excuse. They said you were on mission. That you were still fighting, still trying to make the world a better place…just like you always do.” He gave Steve a rather helpless smile. “I figured maybe for once I wouldn’t send you off course.”
“Bucky…” Steve breathed and stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder, grounding himself. “My course is always going to lead back to you, you get that, right? End of the line.” He said the last firmly, tightening his grip.
Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then clasped at him in return, a smirk at his lips. “You’re still a punk, you know that, Rogers?”
“Yeah, well you can take the kid out of Brooklyn…” Feeling more at ease, Steve released him, gesturing at his arm. “I see they gave you an upgrade.”
Nodding, Bucky held up his hand, blue-black alloy gleaming in the bright light of the lab. He flexed his fingers open and closed smoothly and Steve couldn’t hear anything beyond the faint click of joints, far removed from the hum and whirr of Zola’s crude work. The motion was so fluid, Bucky looked as though he might have simply been wearing a metallic glove over flesh and blood.
“Shuri,” he said in explanation. “Kid’s way too smart to waste her time on the likes of me, but…” Sighing, Bucky shook his head and let it go. “At least I can try and make myself useful in return.”
“T’Challa mentioned that you’ve been training his warriors,” Steve said and some of his earlier doubt crept into his voice.
“It’s fine, Steve. Really, I don’t mind training them. It reminds me a little of better times and if it can keep them alive against someone like me…” He shrugged lightly, folding his arms once more. “Then it’s worth it.”
“Guess I can’t argue that,” Steve agreed. Bucky scrutinized him closely and he felt the heat of a blush at his ears under his gaze. “What?”
“You have that look,” Bucky told him.
“Look? What look?”
“That look that says you’ve got a mission,” he said pointedly. “Time was, you wouldn’t have hesitated to give the order.”
“I can’t ask you to put yourself back out there, Bucky. You’ve done enough,” Steve said earnestly.
Bucky gave him a look, then nodded his head toward the walkway. “Come with me,” he told him and his tone brokered no argument.
He led Steve back up the spiral ascent and out of the lab, taking them through a series of corridors, past Wakandans of various professions that ignored or greeted Bucky in turn, casting curious glances at his companion. Finally, Bucky led him through a wide bay that broke out of the mountain, the sprawl of Wakanda stretching out as far as the eye could see.
“Look,” Bucky instructed as Steve came to stand beside him.
Brow furrowed, Steve glanced over the landscape, unsure what it was he should be looking for. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he turned to Bucky with a frown. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
With a sigh, Bucky moved behind Steve and took hold of his shoulders, twisting him back to face the landscape again. “The sunset, dummy,” he grumbled and Steve shivered slightly at the brush of breath against his neck. “When was the last time you just…stopped?”
Looking out across the lush expanse, Steve was startled to find that he honestly couldn’t recall when he’d last taken the time to do something as innocuous as watching the sun set. It was achingly beautiful; a sight that made his hand twitch with the desire to capture it, to sketch a pale reflection of what could only be truly experienced in the moment.
“When Shuri brought me back, I spent a lot of time just…looking. Watching the sun rise and set, the play of light on the water, wind in the trees. Watching families in the village, working together, children making up games on the fly. I thought about you a lot,” he admitted softly. “About how you would have sketched them into those notebooks you were always carrying around. About how places like this still exist because of the things you’ve done.”
Bucky tightened his grip on Steve’s shoulders slightly, then turned him slowly round again to look at him seriously. “But you don’t even see it anymore, do you? Not the way you used to.”
“Buck…” Steve breathed out and felt as though he’d been punched, his chest tight.
“If you’re going into a fight, you know I’ve got your back. I’ll be there, Steve, anytime you need me,” he said seriously. “I’m fine. I know how to turn it off and on, now. To fight when I need to, then rest and recover. You need that, too. You’re so concerned that having to kill again might be bad for me that you can’t even see how it’s destroying you.” Bucky released him finally, but he didn’t step back, still watching Steve closely. “When is it enough? There’s nothing more you have to prove. Not to anyone, least of all me.”
Steve stared at him helplessly, flayed open to the core, to the skinny, stubborn kid who could never back down from a fight, never admit defeat. He knew in his heart that he hadn’t really been living in the decade since they brought him out of the ice…he’d been surviving. Moving from mission to mission, always ready for the next threat, the next fight, because the moment that he stopped to think about all that he’d lost, he might just start screaming and find himself unable to stop.
Natasha had seen it, had spent months trying to get him back out in the world, setting him up on dates doomed to fail, needling him into social engagements beyond the job. Tony had seen it, too. Hell, if he were honest with himself, Peggy had seen it, even as her aging mind struggled to stay in the present. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Bucky could see through him, when Bucky had known Steve long before any of this. Clearly the only one Steve had fooled was his own damn self.
Steve wanted to kiss him. He wanted to cry. He did neither as a soft chime sounded from Bucky’s wrist and he finally stepped back from Steve to touch the beads there. Shuri’s face projected upwards from the central bead, looking excited.
“Bucky! Is Captain Rogers still with you?” she asked quickly. Nodding, Bucky turned so that she could see them both and she grinned. “Excellent! You will want to want to see this!”
Her image disappeared and was replaced by the footage of the Asgardian encampment that Okoye had displayed for Steve earlier. Only now, it was partially obscured by a wash of lightning, unnaturally fixed from a central point.
“Thor,” Steve guessed, shoving back the emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him just now. “I need to speak with T’Challa… I get the feeling that things just got more complicated.”
From the moment Natasha’s hand had closed about the rod lying innocently upon the worktable, the room had quickly dissolved into chaos. Lightning arced out in every direction and the Valkyrie quickly pulled Bruce in close to shield him as best she could, grunting at the sting of it. He resisted her instinctively, but he was nowhere even close to her strength in this form and she easily pulled him from the lab, cupping his face once they were out in the corridor.
“All right?” she asked quickly, raising her voice over the rolling thunder. Green flashed under her hands and she cursed and shook him. “Bruce! Stay with me, smart guy.” He growled deeply in reply and the Valkyrie hurriedly pressed a kiss to his mouth, willing him not to change.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Bruce jerked back as he regained control, his eyes wide. “Nat! Is she-“
“I don’t know,” she admitted, releasing him and moving to try and see through the snarl of lightning still ripping through the lab, confined in by the safety glass. “But it…it feels like…”
“Thor,” Heimdall finished as he strode quickly down the corridor to stand beside them, looking in.
Erik came jogging after him and moaned at the state of his lab, pushing his hands through his hair. “All my research was in there!”
“What in Hel’s name were you researching?” the Valkyrie wondered and Bruce jerked as though he’d been electrocuted.
“Oh my God,” he murmured, looking between the lab and Erik Selvig rapidly. “Oh my God, was that- Did she-“
The Valkyrie glanced at him in concern, but he didn’t seem to be going green, despite the fact that he looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Bruce?”
He didn’t answer her and instead stared wide-eyed into the lab as the lightning suddenly died away. They all stared into the room, dark except for the faint glow from the jewel at Vision’s brow. He had remained in the lab through it all, utterly unmoved from where he’d been standing when the lightning first began. The lights flickered and then came back on with a soft thrum and they saw her.
Gone were the dark stealth fatigues and tactical gear, replaced by hardened leather and plate armor in the Asgardian style; shielding only what was most vital to allow freedom of movement. A regal cape of deep crimson hung from her shoulders and fine, blonde hair spilled from beneath a winged helm that partially obscured her face. She still had hold of Mjolnir’s haft, but it had been joined by the broken pieces of its head, orbiting the rod and sharing the occasional arc of electricity between the jagged parts. She was breathtaking and the Valkyrie felt an instinctive pull toward her, to serve and protect her lady in all the battles to come.
“Thor?” Erik asked in confusion, unsure how to process what he was seeing with what he knew of his god-like friend.
“Natasha,” Bruce gasped and pushed through the door back into the lab.
“What?” Erik gaped after him.
“You are correct, Erik Selvig,” Heimdall said firmly. “She wields Mjolnir. She is Thor.”
“What does that mean?” the Valkyrie asked him, frowning. “Thor…he’s not…”
Heimdall looked at her a long moment, his crimson gaze inscrutable, then he shook his head. “This does not necessarily mean that he is gone. Thor need not be killed to be found unworthy of his power.”
“Unworthy?” she said incredulously. “He saved his people from Hela’s wrath!”
“And then abandoned them to this realm,” Heimdall countered firmly.
The Valkyrie’s mouth tightened and she looked away from him. “Curse the peculiarities of the Aesir and Vanir,” she growled and headed into the lab after Bruce.
“Natasha?” Bruce was saying softly as she came to stand beside him. “Are you alright?”
“Her vital signs appear to be normal,” Vision said softly. “In fact, I would say that she appears to be healthier than she was before she took up the hammer.”
Ignoring him, Bruce stepped closer to her, brow furrowed in concern. “Nat… Can you hear me?”
“I…hear you,” she said after a long pause, sounding dazed. “I…what has happened? What-“ Natasha tensed and electricity sparked over the hammer as she came fully back to herself. She flinched back from them, crashing into the work table behind her and crumpling it like paper. Reaching a shaking hand up to her helm, she felt at it in confusion before flinging it away, denting the wall with the force of it. “What sorcery is this?” Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with a hand, looking wildly between them. “Why is my speech affected in this manner?”
“You’re speaking like an Asgardian,” the Valkyrie said slowly in realization. “Like an extremely old-fashioned Asgardian.”
“What?” Natasha sounded panicked, her breath coming shallowly now.
“It will likely pass once you have grown used to the ancient power of Asgard in your mind,” Heimdall explained as he joined them.
“What?” she demanded and thunder rolled through her voice. Natasha stared down at herself and saw what she was holding for the first time, going stiff with shock. “NO!” She flung the hammer away from her in a panic and it crashed through the wall, vanishing from view for a few moments before it came sailing right back into her hand. “No, I do not want this! My mind is my own! My body is my own!”
“My Queen,” Heimdall began and Natasha roared at him, a bolt of lightning striking him in the chest, knocking him from his feet. Vision moved to check his vitals and nodded at them to assure that he was fine, though he lay unmoving on the floor.
“To be fair, he had that coming,” the Valkyrie commented lightly, folding her arms and smirking down at Heimdall’s prone form.
“Nat,” Bruce said gently, holding up his hands. “Maybe…put the hammer down?”
“Did you not see me try this already, fool?” she snarled at him, her hand tightening on the haft.
“I saw you throw it,” he persisted, approaching her carefully. “Just…set it down. Gently.” Bruce brushed his fingers over her arm lightly and when Natasha didn’t immediately blast him back, he gingerly took hold of her. Slowly, he led her to one of the work tables that was still standing, guiding her hand until the hammer was resting against it. “Go ahead and let go.”
Gradually, as though the action took great effort, Natasha uncurled her fingers and let the hammer fall to the table with a thud, her breath leaving her in a rush of relief. “Odin’s beard…” she breathed softly and Bruce grinned at her.
“Is this what it’s like talking me down?” he wondered and she glared at him feebly.
“I’m afraid you’re not nearly as attractive when you’re angry,” the Valkyrie teased, moving to join them.
“And here I thought you liked me better when I’m green.”
“Both of you will desist this nonsense,” Natasha said irritably, but she seemed much calmer now. “I am settled.”
“I like your cape,” Bruce replied with a dry smile.
“As do I,” the Valkyrie said appreciatively, running her eyes over the lines of Natasha’s armor.
Natasha scowled at them both.
New York was a jangling snarl of noise beyond Peter Parker’s closed bedroom window, a cacophony of car horns and growling engines that had been the background soundtrack of his life for as long as he could remember. Normally his window would be open, especially given the acrid aroma of melted alloys wafting up from the circuit board he was currently soldering, but an unseasonal snowstorm had slammed into the city overnight, raising tempers even as the temperature dropped. He tried not to think too hard on what threats might be going unchallenged while he was stuck inside, keeping himself occupied so that he didn’t end up crawling the walls. Literally.
Aunt May meant well with the Spider-Man embargo, he knew she did, and it stung a lot less now than it had two years ago when she’d first taken away his suit. Peter was still a minor, thus he could not properly register himself under the Sokovian Accords and so was not legally allowed to operate as a vigilante. Or, as May had more succinctly put it, Peter was grounded for life.
His door swung open and Peter jumped guiltily, not having heard May come home from work. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she zeroed in on what he was doing and Peter quickly blurted out, “It’s for school!”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, folding her arms and cocking her hip in the way she always did when she smelled bullshit. “What class would that be? Web-Slinging 101?”
“I wasn’t going to use it…” Peter grumbled in defeat, killing the power to his soldering iron and slumping in his chair.
May watched him, then sighed and came into the room to stand behind him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Peter, just one more year is all I’m asking. You’re seventeen now…you’re so close to having to be an adult full-time, whether you want to or not.” She bent to wrap her arms about his shoulders, hiding her face against him. “Just be a kid a little longer for me…okay? You’re all I’ve got left.”
He swallowed thickly around the emotion that lodged in his throat, laying his hands over her arms and nodding silently. This was why Peter could never really resent her for taking away his secret identity…they shared the same pain of loss. His parents, Uncle Ben…they’d lost so much and it cut him deeply to think of May having to suffer any more on his account.
“I love you,” she said and squeezed his shoulders, pressing her lips to the top of his head.
“I love you, too,” Peter assured her, clearing his throat lightly. “I won’t use it, I promise.”
She pulled away from him, patting his shoulders gently. “I know, Pete,” she said gently, but sounded oddly resigned. “I don’t suppose you’ve been watching the news?”
“The news?” Peter repeated in surprise, turning in his chair to look up at her. “What about the news.”
Sighing, May turned and walked from the room and Peter quickly got up to follow her as she headed for the television, taking up the remote and turning it on. The words, ‘BREAKING NEWS: ALIENS IN NORWAY’ were displayed in large font beneath a pair of grim looking news anchors and Peter stared at them in shock.
“-footage was taken last night by local fishermen at approximately ten-thirty Eastern Standard Time,” one of the anchors said and the screen was suddenly filled by a grainy video. Peter vaulted fluidly over the couch to stare closely at footage, his eyes wide.
“Oh my God…that looks like a portal! And that- Wait, I think that was Hulk! Holy crap, has this been going on all day?” he asked frantically, wanting to look back at his aunt, but afraid to tear his eyes away from the screen.
“The news only broke an hour or so ago,” May said wearily, watching him.
“Though no one has been able to get on scene as of yet, sources have confirmed that the Iron Legion was spotted patrolling the site,” the anchor continued. “We’ll be covering this story as it develops.”
Peter stiffened at the mention of the Iron Legion, his heart racing because this was big. This was huge. His phone rang back in his bedroom and Peter leapt backward without a thought, turning a neat somersault that had May exclaiming, “Enough with the acrobatics, already!” Shouting an apology over his shoulder, Peter bounded over to his desk to snatch it up his phone, flipping it over to see the screen. His heart sank when he saw the extremely unflattering caller ID for Ned, rather than the snap of the old Avengers tower that he’d assigned to Tony Stark.
Trying not to feel too disappointed, Peter picked up the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Dude!” Ned exclaimed and Peter winced and drew the speaker away from his head. “Did you see the news? Aliens! Fricken aliens, dude!”
“Yeah, I saw it just now! Pretty wild!” Peter replied.
“Dude, are you going? You’re going, right? Like, you’ve got to get over there, right?”
Though he knew she couldn’t hear what Ned was saying, Peter still glanced guiltily at May, who stood watching him from the living room, her arms wrapped protectively about her middle. Not five minutes ago, Peter had been fully committed to putting Spider-Man on hold for her sake, had promised her just moments ago, yet he’d been prepared to break his word at the first sign of trouble. How low was that?
“Uh…no, Ned,” Peter said, his enthusiasm fading. “I’m sure the Avengers are going to handle it.”
Ned was quiet except for his breathing for a few seconds before he burst out, “Seriously? You’re seriously not going. Wait…they didn’t call you? Maybe they’re like…too busy kicking alien ass and need you to come save the day!”
“Nah, Ned…I don’t think so,” Peter admitted, slumping into his bed with a sigh. “I’m pretty sure Tony could call me from inside the Iron Man suit if he really wanted to.” He fell back against the mattress and stared numbly at the bunk bed above him.
“Hey, don’t sweat it, Pete,” Ned said consolingly, because Ned was his best friend and morally obligated to cheer him up in situations like this. “I bet it’s not as big a deal as the news is making it out to be anyway. You know how corporate media is.”
He smiled a little and snorted in amusement, slowly steeling his resolve to just focus on being Peter Parker once more. “Thanks, Ned.” If Tony really needed Spider-Man, he’d call. And Peter, well…he’d figure that out when the time came.
Tony Stark didn’t ask for a lot in life.
No, that was a lie, Tony Stark demanded a great deal from life, occasionally in gross excess, however…he really didn’t think it was too much to ask that people displayed some fucking courtesy every now and again. For example, portaling an alien race to a politically unstable planet without so much as a please and thank you? Rude. Knowing about said portaling well in advance and failing to mention it to your boss so that he could maybe run some damage control before they arrived? Also rude. Using your boss’s PTSD against him as an excuse to not share information on the alien invasion you are leading to Earth? Well, that was just hurtful.
But setting off a crazy lightning storm during what was supposedly a covert rescue operation, which was the one thing he had asked for in all this mess? Inexcusable.
“Blood pressure’s a little on the high side, boss,” FRIDAY warned, displaying a quick readout of his vitals on his glasses.
“Don’t I know it,” he grumbled, marching through the bright corridors of the Avengers Initiative field camp and trying not to flinch every time he caught sight of an Asgardian.
“Remember your breathing exercises,” she advised and lightly tinted his lenses cornflower blue.
Tony rolled his eyes and sighed at the AI, then deliberately drew in a series of slow, controlled breaths; in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Again with the color therapy?”
“Whatever works, boss,” she replied with satisfaction in her tone. “BP is dropping already.”
“Just in time to raise some hell,” Tony muttered and headed straight for the heart of the complex.
“I’ll get the door,” she promised and it swung open at just the right moment for the best dramatic effect. FRIDAY was good to him like that.
“Okay, I don’t know what kind of super spy school you went to,” Tony complained loudly as he swept into the lab. “But when I asked for an extraction, I was hoping for just the slightest hint of stealth to be involved.” His eyes darted about the room quickly, taking everything in, then he did a double-take and stared openly at Natasha. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I greatly admire a woman in costume, but why did you decide to carry out a rescue mission in cosplay?”
“Apparently she’s Thor now,” the Valkyrie supplied helpfully, earning herself a glare from Natasha for her troubles.
Tony gaped at her for a long moment in case he’d missed the punchline in there, then said, “I’m sorry, I thought you just said she’s Thor.”
“The hammer chose her,” Erik said from the doorway behind Tony, awe clear in his tone.
“Doctor Selvig, have you been skipping your meds again?” he asked, pointing at the Swede, who ignored him and instead continued to gaze at Natasha. Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay… Can I get a clarification from someone in the room who is not, A: an Asgardian or B: previously possessed by an Asgardian?” Tony looked between Vision, Bruce and Natasha expectantly.
“Loki is not Asgardian,” Heimdall growled from the floor as he slowly pushed himself back upright.
“Oh wow, I don’t care,” Tony sniped in return.
Natasha’s lips pursed unhappily as if she were trying to keep from speaking, but then she blurted out, “Do not think that this change in my being will in any way prevent me from slaying you where you stand, Stark.”
“Boss, her bioelectric energy signature is almost identical to the data we have on Thor,” FRIDAY admitted softly, showing him the readout.
Tony’s jaw dropped and he gaped at Natasha openly. “You? You were found worthy,” he said flatly. “Over Steve?” He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, then threw back his head and laughed uproariously.
“Tony…” Bruce said disapprovingly, sighing at him.
“Hit him with your lightning,” the Valkyrie suggested.
“Boss, the JTF…”
“N-no, please,” Tony gasped, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “All hail the Queen, long may she reign and all that. I’ll send you a corgi or five, but I really need you all to fuck off right now. The JTF is due to arrive…” Tony checked his watch and paled, sobering up immediately. “…three minutes ago.”
“Attention,” a man’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker outside, “you are illegally occupying territory under the protections of the Sokovian Accords. The United Nations Joint Task Force has you surrounded. We mean you no harm, but will take action if met with resistance or aggression. Please be prepared to surrender any and all alien weaponry and comply with all further instructions.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as the JTF repeated their message again, already hearing cries of alarm and outrage from the Asgardians outside. “Well…we’re fucked. Any ideas? Vision? Banner? Blondie?”
“Blondie?” Natasha repeated and lifted a hand to her hair. Drawing a strand of it forward, her eyes widened, then she whipped around and glared at Mjolnir accusingly. “You dare to change even this?”
“Please let the cameras be working,” Tony murmured gleefully, because Natasha was yelling at a hammer.
“Got it, boss,” FRIDAY assured him and he privately cheered. Quickly refocusing, Tony turned to Vision hopefully.
Vision looked distant for a long moment, but then shook his head. “Their network protocols are blocking me. I suspect that they may have been designed to block me specifically,” Vision said pointedly, giving Tony a searching look.
“You re-wrote the JTF’s firewalls to block Vision’s biomechanical signature as a failsafe,” the AI reminded him and Vision frowned as though he’d heard her.
Wincing, Tony shrugged. “Sorry? It seemed like a good idea at the time?”
“Is there some reason we aren’t just taking them down?” the Valkyrie wondered curiously. “They’re only humans, aren’t they?”
“To attack the humans is to incite war,” Heimdall said stoically. “Despite that we would win, we risk further reducing our number in the aftermath.”
“Breathing exercises,” FRIDAY said softly as Tony’s heart rate spiked.
“No Asgardians in the planning process,” he decided, their casual confidence making him more than a little anxious, drawing in quick breaths through his teeth. “FRIDAY, can you bring the Quinjet over here?”
There was a brief pause and then the AI spoke over the lab’s speakers so everyone could hear her, “I can, but they’ll likely shoot it down the moment I do. They’ve probably already targeted it.”
“What? Why wasn’t it cloaked?”
“Oooh, about that,” the Valkyrie began.
“Don’t touch my stuff!” Tony demanded, then rounded on Bruce. “I changed my mind, she has to go.”
“Tony,” Bruce said softly, looking resigned. “Maybe I should just…go with them.”
“Not an option,” Tony said firmly, all trace of humor gone. “What happened in South Africa was not your fault and I’ll be damned if the UN makes an example of you for it.” No one said anything for a long, tense moment, then the silence was broken by a new voice projected outside. “Oh what now.”
“This is Ambassador Nakia of Wakanda,” a woman spoke calmly and Tony groaned, rolling his eyes. “King T’Challa has offered asylum to all refugees of Asgard. This territory is now under the protection of Wakanda until such time as more permanent accommodations can be arranged.”
There was a beat of silence, then the first speaker from the JTF sighed into his mic and lamented, “Seriously, Nakia? You can’t just let me do my damn job even once?”
“Apologies, Agent Ross,” the woman replied, gentle amusement in her tone. “It is a matter of politics.”
The Valkyrie leaned toward Bruce, raising an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t tell me that Earth has a king.”
“I…didn’t know that Earth has a king,” he said numbly, looking over at Tony. “Why does Earth have a king? Is this what Steve felt like when he came out of the ice?”
“It looks like the Norwegian government just issued a statement confirming their partnership with Wakanda on this, boss,” FRIDAY murmured to him. “The arrival of the Asgardians is officially public record.”
“He’s still not the king of Earth,” Tony grumbled, pulling out his phone. He sent a scathing message off to Steve for being an insufferable tattle-tale and snorted in amusement when he received a thumbs up in return. “Old man’s using emoji now? Seriously? These are the end times…” Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Tony clapped his hands together. “Right, well I’m officially abandoning this shit show and heading back to New York. As amusing as it sounds, I’m not sticking around for the pissing contest between Wakanda and the JTF. Bruce?”
Bruce blinked owlishly at him and Tony felt a little guilty for not sitting him down for The Talk before now. “I…yeah, I guess I should go, right? To make things easier for...whatever’s happening now.”
Natasha put a gentle hand on his arm, careful of the new strength in her grip. “I will not allow harm to befall you while you are at my side.”
A rather helpless grin broke out over Bruce’s face and he inclined his head toward her. “As seriously adorable as this is, I think I need to go. Just for a while, until I figure out what’s been going on. And you…look like you’ve got to figure out some things, too.”
Her mouth pursed in displeasure, but she nodded after a moment. “I agree that it is imperative that I set myself to rights before any more time has passed. If there is a battle to come I must be sure of my place in it, lest I falter. And you?” Natasha asked the Valkyrie. “You will watch over him?”
“I know that it is not what you wish to hear…but I am your Valkyrie,” she admitted in amusement. “My place is at your side.”
“Wait, really?” Bruce wondered in surprise.
The Valkyrie lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “I promised Thor that I would look after his people, Bruce…I am bound to my service, for now.” She touched his cheek affectionately, tilting her head. “Should you need me, I will come.”
Bruce snorted softly at that. “Should he need you, he’ll go find you,” he said wryly.
Tony watched all this with great interest because wow, really? And here Secretary Ross was still holding a grudge thinking that Bruce was likely to go get all up on his daughter at any given moment. Given that Betty had gotten married six years ago, he really ought to learn to move on before he had another heart attack. Tony looked around at the rest of the room, raising a brow.
“Anyone else feel like having an intense polyamorous moment before we go? Clear Eyes? You look like you could use it, frankly.” Heimdall gave him a withering stare that made Tony want to fuck right off back to his Quinjet as fast as his Italian leather could manage, unnerved by the wholly alien nature of his red eyes. “That’s a no, then. Vision? New York or London?”
The android inclined his head thoughtfully, but was interrupted by a man asking, “You’re going to New York?” from directly behind Tony, making him jump slightly.
“Sorry, boss,” FRIDAY apologized in his ear. “I thought you’d seen him already.”
“Obviously not,” Tony whispered at her, then eyed the weary magician propping himself up against the doorframe. Stephen Strange didn’t look much better off than he had when they’d first coaxed his...magic cape...to lay him out in the med bay. In fact, Tony thought he looked even paler than he had, his eyes hollow. “Looking to catch a ride, Doc?”
Strange nodded shortly, then grimaced as though even that small movement had caused him pain. “Normally I would…” he trailed off with a sigh and shook his head. “If you take me to London, I can get you to New York faster than any plane.”
Tony’s brow furrowed at the statement, but then he shrugged, since he didn’t care too much about the particulars just so long as he got out of there and soon. “Why not? Strange-r things have happened.” He grinned as Strange sighed and gave him a highly unimpressed look, turning to look at the others as he twirled his finger in the air. “Wheels up in ten, boys. FRIDAY’s flying, so I call shotgun. Vision, you may want to give Magic Mike a piggyback ride.” He shot them all a smirk, then slid past Strange and out of the lab.
Tension and fear in the camp was high, nearly on the verge of panic as Tony made a beeline for his Quinjet and he sincerely hoped that Natasha got out there to do something queenly here soon. The refugees were clearly terrified, and given the long conversation he’d had with Vision about what they’d been through to get there, he could hardly blame them. Tony himself was having a hard enough time keeping his own shit together, and he hadn’t portaled across the universe that morning.
His hands were shaking by the time he climbed into the Quinjet, collapsing into his chair in the cockpit to grip at the leather tightly. “Hydrogen,” he ground out, staring at the console before him as FRIDAY silently worked out their flight path. “Helium. Lithium. Beryllium. Boron. Carbon. Nitro-” Tony flinched and fell silent as a hand laid itself gently on his shoulder. “I was serious about Strange, Vis...I’m not sure he can walk.”
“I am confident that Doctor Banner can assist him, should he require it. As I am equally confident that you should not be alone just now.” Vision sat himself beside Tony, though given that there wasn’t a second chair, it meant that he floated like some kind of monk reaching nirvana. The thought made Tony’s lips twitch, but his mirth quickly faded as the android said, “The Asgardians are not a threat to Earth.”
“Of course they are!” Tony burst out angrily. “You don’t just introduce a whole new population and expect there not to be consequences! The Asgardians have been top of the galactic food chain for millennia and now they’re here, on our very fragile, very mortal planet where all their enemies can finish the job.” Tony took off his glasses and threw them on the console, sinking his head into his hands. “I should have done more, Vis. We aren’t prepared, we’re not even in the same galaxy as ‘prepared’. I know you’ve all said that Wanda’s hallucination was just a manifestation of my fears, yet it’s all coming true.”
Fighting for breath around the vise that had seized hold of his lungs, Tony squeezed his eyes and fought against the panic that sent uncontrollable shudders through him. Vision watched him silently for several long moments, resting a hand on the back of Tony’s neck to send faint electrical pulses out through the contact, wordlessly encouraging his body to calm once more. When at last Tony sat back, his lashes wet, but otherwise calm, the android finally spoke.
“There is more to what is happening now than I have told you,” he admitted softly. “The true cause of my hesitation, my…withholding of fact. I cannot say whether or not it is wise now for me to disclose it to you now, for it may do more harm than good, yet…perhaps you can find some comfort in the knowledge.”
“Wow, you really know how to sell it, don’t you?” Tony chuckled wryly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me guess…it’s the end of the world.”
“It may well be,” Vision replied. “When Loki first approached myself and Doctor Strange for aid in his plan-“
“Still a mind-bogglingly bad decision on your part, by the way.”
“-he showed us the destruction of a distant world and the being responsible. It was that being who hunted the Asgardians, the reason Loki used the Tesseract to portal them to Earth,” he explained, his expression serious. “Loki seemed certain that this creature will follow them here, for this.” Vision touched the Mind Stone at his brow lightly, which gave a soft pulse in response.
“Let me try for a second to ignore the fact that we’re trusting Loki, who already tried to lead an alien invasion to Earth once before,” Tony said sarcastically. “What you’re telling me now is that he’s still back there, with this Infinity Stone hunting, world destroying being…and the Tesseract.”
“And Thor,” Strange finished tiredly as he came aboard, seemingly propped up between Bruce and his cape.
“Oh, well, that tips things in our favor, except wait, no…apparently Natasha is Thor now. Whatever that means.” Tony kept expecting to feel the fear and anxiety come crashing in around him, but it never came, his mind spinning into overdrive as he started to think about how they could survive what was coming. Huh. Maybe there was comfort in knowledge. He laughed suddenly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all as he pulled out his phone.
“Tony?” Bruce asked nervously, eyeing him. “That’s not a ‘let’s build murder-bots’ laugh, is it?”
“Man, don’t I wish it were that kind of party,” Tony said, only half-joking. He thumbed through his contacts, staring long and hard at the contact for ‘Peter Parker’ before he scrolled past and hit ‘Rhodey’ instead. “It’s time to get the band back together.”
“Okay, you be Captain America and I’ll be Black Widow.”
“Hey, I wanted to be Black Widow!”
“You can’t be Black Widow, you’re a boy!”
“That’s not fair! Dad!”
“Neither one of you gets to be Black Widow,” Clint declared from his perch on the porch railing, watching his children prepare yet another game of Avengers. “Nathanial can be Black Widow.”
“But dad, Nathanial’s just a baby!” his daughter complained, stamping her foot.
“You’re a baby!” Nathanial decried, fisting his chubby hands at his sides. Being just about three, he now considered the idea of being a baby utterly intolerable.
“This game is about five seconds away from turning into chores,” Clint warned and his children suddenly came to an accord, scampering further afield. Keeping a close eye on them, he sighed to himself, folding his arms. “No one ever wants to be Hawkeye.”
“That’s because you’re playing Hawkeye,” Laura told him in amusement as she came up to the railing alongside him, looping an arm around his waist.
“Who does that make you?” he wondered, taking his eyes off the kids long enough to smile at her.
She considered this a moment, then leaned up to buss her lips against his cheek. “Nick,” she whispered into his ear and drank in the sound of his laughter with a wicked grin.
Laura relaxed into him as he hooked an arm around her shoulders, casting his ever watchful gaze out on their children once more. Neither one of them spoke, comfortable enough in the presence of the other that words were not required. Clint swore that he could feel the question as it built inside her head, so it didn’t surprise him in the slightest when she finally whispered, “Is it enough?”
Listening to the happy shouts of his children, occasionally interspersed with a quick wail of protest from their toddler or a heated round of bickering that ended as suddenly as it began, Clint smiled and pressed his lips to her brow. “It’s everything,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of her even as she melted against him.
His phone chimed softly from his pocket and he lifted his hip so that Laura could fish it out for him, chuckling when she gave him a grope for good measure. Lifting it up, she raised a brow as she read the screen. “It’s Tony,” she said in surprise, then read aloud, “’The beacons are lit.’” Her brow furrowed and she looked up at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”
Something cold slid into Clint’s stomach as he took his phone from her, his expression hardening somewhat. “Gondor calls for aid,” he muttered.
Laura’s frown deepened and she shook her head uncomprehendingly. “What does that mean?”
“Besides that Tony’s a fuckin’ nerd?” he said, his thumb tapping over the keyboard to spell the words ‘fuck’ and ‘off’ in that order. Sending his reply, Clint tossed his phone out into the bushes, eliciting a startled gasp from his wife. “Not a damn thing.”
Eyes closed and body folded into the Padmasana position, Stephen Strange looked dignified and mysterious in his meditation as his cloak kept him hovering slightly in the center of the Quinjet. It was all for show, of course, because what Strange was actually doing was manically pacing back and forth through the confines of the craft, trying to help his body along in healing the damage done to it. Vision’s eyes tracked him on the astral plane, but he took no notice of it, nor of Doctor Banner silently wringing his hands or Stark speaking into his phone and asking someone whether or not they’d been practicing their foxtrot.
One would think that after having been trapped outside his body at the other end of the galaxy for the last several weeks or years or centuries that had somehow only been hours, he wouldn’t be so quick to hop outside his skin again. But Strange simply couldn’t keep still and the flesh disagreed with the need to move just now. All that he’d seen, all that he’d endured since Vision’s stone had touched his mind kept threatening to slip from memory as his psyche tried to protect itself and though Strange tried to hold the knowledge within him, he’d be lying if there wasn’t a deeper, primal part that wanted desperately to be rid of the memories.
Coming to a halt, his eyes met Vision’s and the android regarded him steadily, as though in wait. Strange had a thought of what he must look like in the living world, staring intently into open air as though he were an overlarge fuchsia cat and snorted softly. With a sigh, he lifted his hands and looked at the scars that webbed over them even here, smiling self-deprecatingly.
“You know, sometimes I really miss the days when my world only revolved around me,” he said wryly, flexing his fingers slowly. “When my biggest concern was healing my hands so that I didn’t have to face the ‘indignity’ of having to readjust my world view.” Vision inclined his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing and Strange continued, “I’m not sure anything we do will make any damn difference.”
“Perhaps not,” Vision said softly, ignoring the quizzical looks he received from Stark and Banner. “Yet we will try. For the sake of the world.”
“Not just the world,” Strange murmured and let his eyes drift upward to stare at the yellow jewel gleaming at Vision’s brow. “For every world.”
For life itself.
The Avengers will return in World Stops Turning.