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“Where the hell do you think we are?” Simon asked wonderingly. They were approaching a pretty blue-and-green-and-white planet rapidly, and Wash slowed Serenity as she hit atmo. Or tried to. Serenity seemed to have her own opinion about how she wanted this to go down, and she simply went faster and faster, until a shimmering silver city was in sight. There was a large tower directly in their way, and there had obviously used to be a neon sign on it at one time, but now there was only an A left. Finally, Wash managed to slow Serenity down, and she purred as she landed on what used to be a balcony, but now was obviously ruined. “Wonder what kind of bar fight took place here,” Mal muttered, peering out the windshield. Suddenly, there was a blast that rocked the ship, and Kaylee whimpered. “They’re shootin’ Serenity,” she whispered.

Mal was out of the ship in half a second, hands up and blaster tucked away. “Stop shootin’ my gorram ship!” he yelled. The blasts stopped abruptly, and the rest of the crew piled out of the ship. River paced ahead, as if in a dream, right at the angry-looking folk who had been torn between arresting someone and trying to kill the ship. She went straight for one carrying a fancy bow – the weapon kind – and touched her forehead to his, hands over his ears. Then she announced, “The angry sad man was in your head. It feels strange. There’s a residue; I can wipe it up for you.” The man looked up, startled. “Thank you,” he said in a hoarse whisper, then closed his eyes as River closed her own. “It’s green and sticky, like blood,” she murmured as if half-asleep. “There – all gone.” The man stumbled back, and River put her hands on her hips, staring intently at him.

“Clinton Francis Barton. Assassin and spy. You work for an organization called SHIELD. You traveled with a circus for years; your parents were abusive and you felt like your brother didn’t care about you. He’s married now; he has a wife named Laura, and he has two children. A boy and a girl. They told you to kill the red-haired woman but you didn’t; you made a different call in Budapest. You love her. Love is for children but you love her. A man named Coulson – your friend. He’s gone but he’ll be back. And blue, everything is blue…”

River seemed to drift back into her own body. “Two… by two… hands… of blue…” She shook her head violently, clearing it, then rocked back on her heels.

“Earth-That-Was,” she told the crew. “This is Earth-That-Was.” She moved over to the petite redheaded woman next to Clinton-Francis-Barton. “I don’t want you in my head,” the woman said lowly. “I can’t let you take my brain and play like they did.” River’s eyes lit up. “We’re lost… lost in the woods,” she said to the redhead. “Natalya Alianovna Romanova. Lost in the woods.” She pointed her toes and began to dance. Perfectly, slowly, like a figure on a music box, she executed the ballet, the redhead following her smoothly. “You can learn to love the dance again,” River said. “It’s just an object. It doesn’t mean what you think.”

The redhead grasped River’s arms. “Twelve little girls in two straight lines…” she said almost desperately, trying to communicate something. River nodded. “Red Room. Death. Little girls, lots of little girls, in two straight lines. Graduation ceremony – sterilization. One less thing to worry about. You hesitated. You paid. Red in your ledger. So much red. Love is for children but you love him too. Nothing but darkness. You don’t know who you are, really, or where you fit in here. You’re afraid you’ll never belong. Don’t worry. We bring Serenity.”

Her mouth twisted up in an odd little smile. Seeming to understand that they didn’t have all day, she twirled from man to man. “Thor Odinson. Anthony Edward Stark. Robert Bruce Banner. Steven Grant Rogers. And Loki.” The slim man in green and gold looked up sharply at her, and she grinned, showing her teeth. “That’s how you think of yourself. You don’t want the name of either father, so you took the name given to you the only parent you feel really loved you – the only family member, even. You’re such a boob. Your brother cares about you. He’d go anywhere and do anything to save you, like Simon did for me. He gave up everything he is, everything he could ever be, just to find me, and he found me broken. Does that sound familiar? You’re not Laufey’s son or Odin’s son. You’re Frigga’s son, and Thor’s brother. If you can accept that, that will be your saving grace, Trickster. I know all about tricksters. I’m River, but I’m Serenity too. I’m a girl and a ship. Don’t be Jubal.” Loki closed his eyes, nodding, and laid down, seeming exhausted.

Mal cleared his throat and stepped forward.

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“’Lo, I’m Captain Malcom Reynolds, and this is my ship, Serenity, and this is my crew. The big, angry-looking one with the really big gun is Jayne; the reader you all just met is River; the doc, River’s brother, is Simon; the Shepherd – preacher – is Book; our pilot in the colorful shirt there is Wash, and that there is Zoe, Wash’s wife and my first mate. Little Kaylee is our mechanic, and this here is Inara, a Companion who travels with us.”

A big blond man – something-or-other Rogers, if Mal remembered correctly, gave a little bow. “Ladies. Gentlemen.” A brown-haired man with fancy facial hair put his arms in the air. “I’m Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – and this is my tower. Can I, uh, show you around, maybe get you a drink? We just got finished saving a city, so we’re kinda tired and considering getting shawarma. Are you all in?”

Jayne perked up. “Booze, food, and the company of at least one beautiful woman who ain’t yet tried to kill me? I’m in.” Inara smiled, berry-red lips curving up. “I would love something to eat – and a good cup of tea wouldn’t hurt either.” A rumpled-looking man with graying hair nodded in agreement, running a hand through his curls. He was also wearing nothing but a pair of loose, baggy pants and a loose, baggy T-shirt – barefoot, despite the debris scattered all over the balcony. The redheaded woman, Natalia, laced her fingers with Clinton-Francis-Barton’s and nodded her approval of the plan, while River scampered up and latched onto Natalia’s other side.

The other big blond man, Thor, hauled his brother Loki off the floor and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Aye, Friend Stark,” he boomed, “we shall feast!” Wash looked over at Zoe. “I could feast. Can we feast, lambie-toes?” Zoe laughed. “Sure thing, honey. Let’s, uh, feast.”

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“…and then, I shit you not, he says, ‘There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that,’ and then jumps out of the plane. Without a parachute! And we’re all thinking he’s dead for sure, but no, he turns up without a scratch!” Clint grinned at Natasha over his shawarma, adding, “See, Cap met two gods. He’s still a Christian. Tony met two gods. He’s still an atheist. Banner met two gods, and he beat the shit out of both of them. That, my friends, is faith in a nutshell.”

The ‘shepherd’, Book, laughed as heartily as any of them, much to Natasha’s surprise. She would’ve thought a so-called ‘man of God’ would be more uptight, but he’d turned out to be very open and seemingly good-hearted. As for the others… well, Kaylee and Tony were enthusiastically talking mechanics, with Bruce jumping in every once in a while. For the most part, though, Banner was conversing with the doctor – Simeon? Simon? – and the ‘Companion’, Inara. The large mercenary, Jayne, was annoying this ever-loving shit out of everyone, especially Loki (whose eye had begun to twitch, something Natasha could sympathize with for once); Thor and the two captains were trading battle stories, with the shepherd occasionally adding input that made them laugh, while Natasha had been roped into a conversation with Clint and the married couple, Zoe and Wash.

River sat happily on Natasha’s left and traced invisible patterns on the table and sang to herself, swinging her feet under the table. Occasionally she reached over to steal fries or bits of shawarma from members of both teams, which nobody really seemed to mind. She had just become a part of their life, seamlessly, as if she’d never been absent. It was nice. Even if, according to Wash, she tended to rub soup in people’s hair.

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After shawarma was eaten and enjoyed by all (even Loki, grudgingly, because Jayne was eyeing his plate), Tony suggested they all go out for drinks and dancin’. Most of the group liked this plan, so they all got a ride in Tony’s car back to his tower to get dolled up for the evening out.

Tasha, as Kaylee was already thinkin’ of her as, offered to lend the women some of her dresses, and they’d sure taken her up on the offer. Zoe’d found somethin’ real short, black, and slinky, while Inara had gone with a slightly longer shimmery red one. Tasha had on a black dress that she said had seen a lot of action, and she wouldn’t ever be willing to part with it. There was somethin’ on it that looked awful similar to gunpowder, but Kaylee wasn’t about to say nothin’. Tasha was real nice to the crew, but she was as dangerous as River, if not more, and not to be underestimated.

River had chosen to stay at the tower, away from the booze and so many people, but Kaylee had the sneakin’ suspicion that River would most like make herself at home in the meantime. The shepherd had opted to stay with River, as he was ‘getting too old for that sort of nonsense’, as had Doctor Banner, for reasons he didn’t particularly care to say. Cap’n Rogers had tried to get out of goin’ along to the bar, but Tony’d more or less bullied him into going.

Kaylee turned to Tasha and asked, “Whatcha got for me, Tasha?” The redhead gave her a small smile and handed over something short, cheerful yellow, and silky, with bits of lace here and there. Kaylee felt herself grin broadly. Tasha’d read her like a book, and she’d picked the kind of dress Kaylee had always wanted to wear dancin’ but never had neither the money nor the dance. Although, if they ended up goin’ to any formal shindigs, she still had that frilly pink gown hangin’ up in her bunk.

She smiled as she put on the dress, smiled as Inara did her makeup, and smiled the whole way out to the car, especially when Simon caught sight of her and, for all his propriety, his mouth hung open until Mal reached over and closed it for him.

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By the time they actually got to the club, the excitement was almost palpable. Tony felt the seat move slightly as Kaylee bounced in joy next to him. When they got into the place itself, most of Serenity’s crew headed straight for the bar, except for Zoe and Wash, who mysteriously disappeared into a darkened corner of the room and emerged slightly less polished than before.

After a few rounds, everyone got loosened up enough that they could dance without being self-conscious, and it turned out that the hot woman, Inara, could move. She was seriously sexy. Like, really, she was almost as slinky as Zoe’s dress. But Tony wasn’t going to make any moves on her; he wasn’t sure who he was most afraid of – Pepper, Mal, or Inara herself.

The doctor turned out to be a lightweight (no surprise there), and also a very relaxed and casual drunk (which was possibly the most surprising thing about the man so far, if Tony was being honest), engaging Jayne in a dance-off – and winning – and staying almost glued to Kaylee. At one point, he finally kissed the woman, and Tony was tempted to start applauding; honestly, he could see that they’d been moving at a snail’s pace. Later on, he and Kaylee were talking mechanics, and Simon just looked at Kaylee and said, “Wow. You’re amazing, you know that? I almost never get to see you when you’re, you know, in your element, and I think it’s really cool. Also you look really great in that dress.” Kaylee blushed and grinned, then excused herself and dragged her boyfriend off to dance.

“DRINKING CONTEST!” Thor roared from the other end of the bar, and Tony found himself suddenly preoccupied. Natasha, Thor, himself, Mal, Zoe, and Jayne bellied up to the bar and started doing shots while Clint, Wash, and Loki (who was dragged into going against his will and loudly bemoaned his fate) watched in amusement. Steve had opted to sit out, due to having a seriously unfair advantage. Zoe was the first out, but that was because she wasn’t really trying; Tony had a feeling that the woman could handle her liquor better than that. Mal was the next one out, but not for lack of trying. After he fell off his stool, his crew made him quit. There was a long interval where no one was out, but then Tony got to the point (odd, for him) where he couldn’t drink any more, so he had to stop. Surprisingly enough, Thor went next, and it was down to Natasha and Jayne. Jayne growled, “I can’t believe this little redhead can drink three men and Zoe under the table,” then downed another shot. Natasha raised her glass in a mocking little toast, smirking as she tossed hers back easily.

After another long while, the pile of shot glasses was getting really, really big, and Mal had started singing some kind of drinking song from – well, wherever he was from. Loki had swiped a bottle of 190-proof Everclear from a secret stash under the bar and was drinking away his problems, his feelings, and Mal’s terrible singing. Tony would forever deny that he shared that bottle of Everclear with the god of mischief, both of them alternating between howling with laughter and crying because of the pain of the singing and the sheer awfulness of the alcohol.

Finally, Jayne slumped down on the bar, unconscious. Natasha drank her last shot, then his, then walked away from the table. And promptly fell over Steve and onto Clint. Tony had a feeling that they would all regret this in the morning, but right then? Right then, he was too damn drunk to give a shit. Officially.

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Steve, as the designated sober friend and general Good Guy, drove them all home, then helped their poor alcohol-soaked bodies into bed. The only other remotely sober person was Inara, who smirked as she helped him out. “Sweet like this, aren’t they?” she remarked with a laugh as they looked at their passed-out friends. Steve gave her a gentle, friendly smile and chuckled. “Sweeter, anyway,” he told her, and then they both went to check on the people who had stayed at the tower.

What greeted them was a room that looked like a knitting basket had thrown up on it. “Wo de ma he ta de fengkuang de waisheng dou!” Inara exclaimed. “What happened here?!” River’s dark head popped up from behind a sofa. “Knitting,” she grinned, and held up a pretty red sweater. “I can see that,” Inara said patiently. “Where are Shepherd Book and Bruce?” Two more heads popped up from behind the same sofa. “Hello, Inara,” the shepherd said kindly, and Bruce gave her a friendly little wave. “So, we may have yarn-bombed the tower…” Bruce said sheepishly.

Inara giggled. “May have?” Steve started laughing too, and by the time he had almost stopped, Inara had a wicked plan. “Well, our crews have just gotten home from the bar, and they’re all quite inebriated. If someone should take advantage of their state to play a prank, that would be terrible. For instance, if the culprits in the Stark Tower yarn-bombing were to take things a step further. It would be a terrible offense, so be on the lookout for these wicked criminals.” She grinned at the knitters, and there was a moment of silence before Book pointed out, “We would need help.” Steve looked down at Inara. “We’ll help,” they chorused together, all toothy smiles.

A couple of hours later, yawning widely, they admired their handiwork. All the Avengers and the crew of Serenity sported bobble hats, sweaters, and fingerless gloves (nobody made a hat or gloves for Jayne, though; his mother’s knitting was enough), and River had had the bright idea of knitting feety pajamas onto all of Tony’s Iron Man suits, much to the amusement of JARVIS. River and JARVIS had bonded very well, and the AI seemed to consider the girl a kind of second Tony – an insane genius who was bad at taking care of herself.

Inara snickered, then poked Steve. “Do you think you could take photos for posterity?” He gave her a big, innocent smile and told her, “It would be my sincere pleasure.”

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Jayne felt like he’d got on the wrong side of an iron-shod plough horse. His head felt like a man done smashed it in with the butt of his rifle. Damn, that little redhead could drink! He hadn’t never had a woman drink him under the table like that ‘afore. ‘Course, he di’n’t think he’d ever met a woman as crazy ‘s that one.

As his brain started comin’ out of the big muddle it’d been in, an’ the headache set in for real (he’d have to see ‘bout gettin’ some pain meds from the doc), he realized someone done knit a sweater onto him while he was sleepin’. It was red, and real fuzzy, kinda like pettin’ a lamb. Someone’d also pulled his hat onto his head and his gloves onto his hands. There was some overlarge, misshapen socks to boot, and they was red too. And he mighta been kinda covered in afghans and such, plastered, really, to the bed. Then he figured that everythin’ in this gorram bunk was covered in gorram yarn and knittin’. Then, just to top it all off, a voice came outta nowhere an’ said, “Good morning, Mr. Cobb, I hope you slept well. Ibuprofen can be found in the kitchen, as can coffee and breakfast. If you are unable to find your way there, I will send someone to assist you. Will that be all, sir?” Jayne di’n’t have a response, ‘cept to grab Vera from the nightstand an’ hold her close. “Oh, how rude of me. I am JARVIS, the AI that runs Mr. Stark’s tower. If you require anything of me, simply say something; I am installed throughout the building. Goodbye for now.”

Jayne couldn’t really do nothin’, ‘cept get outta bed and shuffle off to the kitchen, wherever that was. A few wrong turns later, the irritatin’ fella with the blond hair and wearin’ too much purple came ‘round the corner and led Jayne off to where the food and coffee was. There was eggs, so he couldn’t much complain. Inara an’ the scrunched-up science man were takin’ tea, an’ the li’l redhead an’ the big blond man with the long hair and the doc were sittin’ ‘round, drinkin’ coffee and laughin’ at somethin’ on a screen that the arrow man had given them. They was wearin’ woolies, too, all of them, which was a mite odd, but Jayne wasn’t ‘bout to say nothin’. ‘Specially not to the redhead. She spooked him somethin’ fierce. Reminded him too much of Crazy-Ass River.

On cue, speak of the Devil, the woman turned the screen ‘round to face Jayne. There was a picture of him droolin’ into his pillow, and Crazy-Ass River was standin’ by him, ball of red yarn and knittin’ needles in hand, grinnin’ like more of a madwoman than usual. “Son of a bitch,” Jayne swore. “Language!” came a sharp reprimand from the doorway, and the other big blond man walked in and filled a cup with coffee. “Pianzhi de jiuchayuan,” Jayne muttered into his joe, and if Inara and the doc wasn’t so damn well-bred, they’da done a spit take.

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Of all of the pranks Thor had pulled (which were many more than his Midgardian friends gave him credit for), this had to be his finest. “Could one of you fetch my hammer from the living room? I must have left it there during our drunken revels last night.” Natasha gave him a look as sharp as a blade, warning him against what he was about to do. Clinton, on the other hand, guffawed loudly as the mercenary, Jayne, plodded off into the living room to fetch the hammer.

He returned a few moments later, confused and mightily irritated. “Can’t get the gorram thing up off the carpet!” he spat. Clinton snorted, and Natasha hid a smile with her hand. By that time, the rest of the Avengers and the rest of Serenity’s crew had gathered in the feast hall, and one by one, Serenity’s crew all tried and failed to pick up the hammer. The small girl, River, however, was nowhere to be found. With much grumbling and complaining, everyone settled in for breakfast and coffee and tea.

Thor was munching on a Pop Tart when a small hand struck his elbow. “I think this belongs to you,” a quiet voice told him in a matter-of-fact tone. He turned to see River holding Mjolnir, cradling it as if it were a babe. “It’s a beautiful weapon,” she said, “well-balanced and strong.” She whirled around and offered it to Anthony, who stammered, trying to think of an excuse as to why he could not accept it. “Don’t bother,” said a dry voice from the elevator. “He doesn’t like to be handed things.”

A professional-looking woman with reddish-blond hair and a familiar-looking balding man stepped into the room. River shoved the hammer into Steve’s hands (to Thor’s surprise, it didn’t fall to the floor, but stayed in his grasp) and took off running, fairly flying across the room to fling herself at Agent Coulson.

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It was way too early for this goushi. It was way too early for River to be tackle-hugging strangers. It was only nine in the morning.

River smiled up into the eyes of the very puzzled man. “Phil!” she cried, and hugged him again with all her strength. Simon was more than a little confused himself, but he thought he was just going to let this play out, because he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it right now. Also, River didn’t seem to be hurting herself or others, nor did she seem in imminent danger, so Simon was just going to sit here and drink his coffee and wait for the inevitable crisis.

“His name is Agent,” Tony huffed from where he was sitting, but he was grinning like crazy. “Coulson, you goddamn bastard,” Clint said with a grin, jumping the counter and hugging the man. The man, Coulson, side-eyed Loki. “Is he going to kill me again?” River shook her head and told him, “No. He won’t. He’s ashamed.” She beamed at Coulson. “That was what they used to call you. Agent Coulson. You are Agent Phil Coulson, and you come back to us now at the turn of the tide.” Coulson looked mildly alarmed. “Who are all these people?” he asked evenly. “We’re the crew of Serenity, Firefly-class vessel from another universe,” Zoe told him tiredly, sipping the last of her coffee.

Simon looked at the man to see his reaction. He was expecting surprise, but what he got was more weary resignation. “First the Chitauri, now these people? If you add in the dying and the resurrection, I’m certainly having one hell of a week.” River tilted her head and leaned back to look at Coulson. “I find you fascinating. You shouldn’t be here, but you are, because Tahiti is a magical place. Congratulations on getting your own team, by the way. Here, have a sweater.” She thrust a nice blue sweater at him. Coulson just raised an eyebrow but accepted it and pulled it over his head.

“Stark – Tony – I’m actually here to talk to you on Fury’s behalf. He wants the team to come to the Helicarrier for a debriefing on the Chitauri incident. If your guests wanted to come along, I think that could also be arranged.” Kaylee’s eyes lit up, and Simon prepared himself for her to gush about mechanics and engineering and parts with strange names for hours. “I do want to meet the one-eyed man with a thousand eyes,” River added thoughtfully. Mal perked up and exclaimed, “Helicarrier? Now this is something I gotta see!” Clint nudged Wash with his elbow. “I could see about letting you try out a Quinjet while we’re there,” he offered.

“I think the general consensus is that everyone’s going,” the woman with the strawberry-blond hair pointed out. River turned and grinned at her also. “Pepper. Tony thinks you’re an angel.” Tony blushed very, very bright red, while there were some faint snickers from the peanut gallery. The woman called Pepper smoothed her skirt. “Well. He’s not far off,” she deadpanned. The room dissolved into laughter.

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As much as Bruce truly, truly hated the Helicarrier, they had to go there for their debriefing – but at least Serenity’s crew would be coming. That would be entertaining at least. River had crept up behind Bruce and slipped her small hand into his as they touched down on the deck. “It’s okay. The green man is sleeping,” she whispered, playfully putting a finger to her lips and smiling. “Shh, don’t wake him.” Bruce smiled back at her, thinking how calming the girl was. She knew before anyone told her what needed to be done, and Bruce took great comfort in that, knowing how bad it would be if his alter ego came out on the Helicarrier. She had bullied him into wearing a sweater that morning, and now he was glad she had – it gave him something to hide in, and he had to wonder whether she had made it three sizes too large on purpose.

River seemed to enjoy taking care of them in the tiniest of ways – feeding them berries, knitting and crocheting warm woolies for them, and soothing them when they were upset. It seemed like the kind of thing she would do. Bruce was jolted out of his thoughts by the team’s arrival at the debriefing room. Also River letting go of his hand and tackle-hugging Director Fury and Assistant Director Hill. “He missed you very much, Phil,” she said brightly to Coulson upon letting go. “Of all his eyes and spies, you’re his favorite, besides Maria. But he’d never say so.” She went back to Bruce and held his hand again.

All eyes were on Director Fury, but not in a way he seemed to appreciate. “Back to work, motherfuckers!” he snapped. Tony sulked. “I thought I was your favorite,” he pouted. Pepper gave him a look that said You have got to be kidding me, my boyfriend is an actual five-year-old. “Tony, let’s just get this over with, and then we’ll get lunch, and you can have a burger,” she soothed. Yep. Definitely a five-year-old. “Fine.” Tony slouched into a chair, and, sooner or later, so did everyone else – even Loki, who was looking like a teenager who’d been caught smoking in the bathroom and had been sent to the principal’s office.

“Friends, fear not,” Thor boomed, “Loki has been stripped of his powers by the Allfather, and he shall earn them back in due time, as did I. I believe the Midgardian term for this is ‘grounded’.” Loki ducked his head and looked as if he were trying to melt into his chair as the Avengers and their guests laughed like hyenas. The rest of the debriefing dragged on, dull and boring, and Jayne fell asleep in his chair. Just as Bruce was starting to doze off himself, a voice over the comms yelled, “Director Fury! We’re losing altitude, and we have no idea why, sir!”

Tony and Kaylee looked at each other and jumped up, dragging Bruce (and River, who was still holding his hand) with them to the engine room. The engine room was hot, dark, and close, but somehow they made it work. Kaylee was wielding a rag, a wrench, a can of WD-40 that had been a gift from Dum-E, duct tape, and a welding torch, while Tony had on him his usual assortment of gadgets. As it turned out, they weren’t necessary. Kaylee reached her gloved hand into the mess of wires and pipes and yanked hard, and a dripping chunk of metal and plastic came out. She did something with a rag and some duct tape that Bruce couldn’t see, then gave another pipe a good whack with the wrench. “I knew it was the compression coil, those things go faster’n I can blink, I swear. The alternator is caught in this mess here… Tony, pass me the smallest flathead screwdriver you got. I think I might be able to salvage it. Bruce, take this and pull out any copper wire you can; I’m goin’ to try to make a replacement coil like I did on Serenity.”

Bruce was handed the drippy engine piece and awkwardly did as he was told – which was hard, with River clinging to his arm like a very well-intentioned leech. “Tony, you got a rotating valve coupling with a star-shaped head on you?” Kaylee asked, wiping her forehead on her sleeve and smearing grease on her face. “Um…” Tony trailed off, obviously not used to saying he had no idea what that was. Kaylee wasn’t paying any attention, too busy looking for it in her pockets. “Oh, here we are!” She replaced the soggy engine chunk with the coupling and the engine started to make a very scary noise. “Quick, Bruce – hand me the wire. I’ll just use this hose here, and… there we go!” Kaylee inserted the replacement coil and the engine started making friendlier noises. And then, miracle of miracles, it began to work.

When the four of them emerged from the engine room, coughing dust and blinking in the light, the teams were there. Fury stepped forward. “Ms. Frye, thank you for doing… well, whatever the hell you did to our engine. You saved a lot of lives today, and I would like to offer you a job.” “No,” Mal interrupted firmly before she could answer. “I don’t recall askin’ you,” Kaylee told him tartly. He sighed and said, “I can’t lose my best – and only – mechanic to him, Kaylee. He’s got lots of mechanics. I only got one.” Kaylee grinned. “I dunno. You two’re almost the same man.” And as the two turned to Kaylee at the exact same time and gave her the exact same look, Bruce found he couldn’t really argue. On his left side, River squeezed his hand and let go. She could tell he didn’t really need it right then.

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Loki was bored nearly to tears. While the whole engine fiasco was lovely, and the Quinjet-flying competition between Barton and Washburne was mildly entertaining, he was getting annoyed. He did not care for the Helicarrier, nor did he care for the people on it, and Jayne was getting on his nerves. Again. Coulson kept side-eying him (which, if Loki was being honest, he most likely deserved), and the little Tam girl kept trying to get close to him. He could feel her mental presence brushing against his, and he despised the feeling. He was sure she was doing it just to annoy him. Thor had been kept occupied by the others on this little visit, so that was one irritation that Loki had not had to deal with, but there were several others.

Finally, finally, they left, and Loki sulked the whole way back to the tower. When Stark’s leash-holder came over to sit beside him, he snapped at her, “I do not wish to talk to you, nor do I wish to talk to anyone, and if you do not go away and leave me to my misery, I will stab you.” To his dismay, she was completely unfazed. Years of exposure to Stark most likely did that to a person. “Yes, and then you’ll never get un-grounded and you’ll never get your powers back, and you’ll be reduced to little more than a human. So go ahead, do it.” He had to admit, he had a grudging respect for the woman now. “Fine. See if I care,” he told her.

She didn’t try to get him to (ugh) talk about his feelings or any such nonsense. She simply was. The River girl came over and sat on his other side, more or less ignoring him, but her consciousness was never far from his. He would deny until Ragnarok that it was somewhat reassuring, like when he and his brother (he would also deny until Ragnarok that this was how he mentally referred to Thor) were small and still the best of friends. He was dwelling on this when Stark started to speak. “So, Steve, what’s up with you being able to hold Thor’s hammer?” Rogers turned a very gratifying color, like that of the inside of a watermelon. “What? No, I can’t hold it, what are you talking about?” he babbled.

River leveled a glance at the man from across the room, then said both emphatically and flatly, “Bullshit.” Her brother turned much the same color that Rogers had, and Rogers darkened a few shades to perhaps a deep raspberry color as everyone, especially Thor, had a good laugh at his expense. “Don’t expect me to rule Asgard,” were the next words out of Rogers’s mouth, and Loki could tell that the poor man was actually uncomfortable with the idea. “Don’t worry,” Natalya smirked, “I think that requires an ability to win a drinking contest. So obviously, I would rule Asgard.” “That’s BS, Romanov,” Rogers shot back. “I could drink you under the table. I’m the only one in this room who actually can’t get drunk. Not even off of Asgardian mead, which is something even Thor can’t say.” “Oooooohhhh!” Tony interjected, loud and unhelpful. Loki couldn’t help but add his own opinion. “I believe the Midgardian expression required is ‘bitch, please’.”

As the entire room cracked up – even the so-called ‘Man of God’ – Natalya turned to Loki thoughtfully. “Can I braid your hair?” she asked. And that was how Loki ended up having his hair fishtail-braided by committee, and his fingernails and toenails painted by another two women. To his everlasting credit, he did not stab any of them; he had to admit, green glitter polish suited him. But he would deny that until Ragnarok.

Chapter Text

While Loki was getting a makeover – being pampered like the diva he was – Clint went up to the roof to get some fresh air. He loved New York City – he was born there, after all, and he’d lived there a good part of his life – but he sometimes missed the country, too. Mostly he missed Barney and Laura and the kids. He couldn’t believe his brother would just disappear like that. He wondered how Laura and his niece and nephew were, and he missed them a lot. Bachelor uncle, maybe, but he was a good one. He’d wondered what it would be like if they were his kids, if he were married to Laura instead of Barney, but he’d come to the conclusion that it was probably better for everyone if he stuck to being an Avenger. He missed life as a civilian, sure, but that came with its own downsides, and when it came down to it, he didn’t have to be married to Laura to protect her and her kids. Fury had made sure of that when he joined SHIELD, and he’d be forever grateful to the man for it.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the roof when loud, clomping footsteps came up behind him, paused (most likely when they saw him), and turned to go. “I can leave if you want,” he offered, not bothering to turn around and see who it was. It didn’t matter. Clint dangled his legs off the side of the tower as he waited for a reply. He didn’t get one. Instead, the large boots appeared next to him, and Jayne sat down next to him on the short wall between them and falling to their deaths. It was lucky Clint wasn’t afraid of heights, or prone to dizziness. After an uncomfortable silence, Jayne finally caved and asked, “Why’re you up here?” Clint didn’t answer with words, just pulled a photo of Barney and Laura and their kids out of his pocket and handed it over. Jayne nodded like he understood – and maybe he did. “Fine young’uns. Your niece an’ nephew?” Clint stared down at the people below. They looked like ants from where he was. “Yeah. They are. That’s my brother and my sister-in-law; they’re their parents. Barney went missing. Just – disappeared. Like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Jayne handed the picture back carefully, then pulled out one of his own. “This’s m’ ma. She’s the one who made me the hat an’ gloves. Gorram, I love that hat.” He pointed to a tough older woman, who also looked motherly and kind, then moved his finger to a woman who looked much like his mother, but a younger version. The young woman was holding a baby, and around her and the man whose hand she held, there were three other small children – a boy and two girls, it seemed. There were two other men in the picture, one of them standing next to a young woman and holding a little girl. The other one was Jayne. “M’ brother. Twin. Died in a machine accident this past spring. The young’uns ‘r almost two years older’n they are in this picture. His wife an’ kid are strapped for cash, an’ so ‘r m’ ma and m’ sister an’ m’ sister’s family, so I been sendin’ em home money from the jobs we get – an’ there ain’t many of ‘em. I do what I can, but… I feel like I’m lettin’ ‘em down. I got to be the provider but I’m a lousy-ass provider. An’ now I can’t even get the money I got to ‘em. I can’t let ‘em starve. I just can’t. They’re m’ kin.” Clint nodded. “Yeah. I understand.” Jayne didn’t look at him, just swallowed and nodded, then got up and meandered off, leaving Clint holding the photograph of his family and the photograph of Jayne’s. Clint wondered if he meant to do that, then thought back to their conversation. Yeah. He meant to do that. Clint studied the two photos, side-by-side. Brothers, gone. Sisters, struggling. Children, needing more than what could be given. And good bachelor uncles. Just doing their best.

Chapter Text

Zoe was wandering through the tower – her husband was goofing off with Thor, and she wasn’t part of the makeover group. She didn’t feel alone, exactly, but the feeling of loneliness was strong where she was.

The room she found herself in was impersonal, almost cold. It didn’t feel like a home. It felt like a hotel room – maybe even less homey. There were stacks of old newspapers, talking about this planet’s Second World War, and some modern obituaries that had been cut out of other, more recent newspapers. The room held so much sadness. So much mourning for something that had been lost. Whoever lived here had resisted making it their home. The bed was neatly made. No laundry was scattered around. There weren’t even any lamps. She’d seen barracks more inviting. A single flag – mostly red-and-white striped, with a blue corner containing white stars – hung on the wall behind the bed.

As she stared around the unwelcoming room, Zoe was struck by inspiration. She knew that River had some paints, and, well, Zoe had been good with paint once. She borrowed some dark brown paint from River, as well as a palette and a brush, and selected one of the bare, cold walls. Picking up the obituaries, one-by-one, she painted the names on the wall in elegant, unbroken cursive. The name she put in the middle, even though its owner didn’t appear to be dead, was Peggy Carter. Obviously, the woman had meant something to the occupant of the room, as there were several articles with her name in them. Once she had finished that, she went back and borrowed some red paint instead, and picked another wall for this message, one she’d found written on a piece of scrap paper. I’m with you till the end of the line, the wall now read, in Zoe’s immaculate painted cursive. She stood back, nearly satisfied with what she’d done with the room. Then she frowned and left. She returned fifteen minutes later with an armful of lamps and distributed them properly throughout the room.

When Steve showed up to grab a snack with red, teary eyes and a wobbly smile, Zoe knew that she’d done the right thing. She snuck back later to take a look, and when she did, she saw drawings. Beautiful drawings, each one matching a name on the wall. For Peggy Carter, there were several. And for the line she’d written in red paint, there was a series of drawings – the chronology of a friendship, from start to end. She brushed her fingers over the final scene, in which the dark-haired young man fell from the train, down, down into the snow. She knew this pain. She had lost good friends, subordinates she cared for like brothers and sisters, men and women who’d given their lives for something they believed in. In war, nobody really won. It was simply a measure of how much you lost. Zoe felt her eyes tear up, and she moved her hand away from the wall. The names of the fallen came back to her. Tracey. Bendis. So many others. She took a moment to let the ghosts in, let them know that they meant something to her, then closed her eyes and said goodbye. When she opened them again, she bowed her head and left the room. Her job was done here.

But she left every single lamp on behind her.

Chapter Text

When it came time to prepare supper, Book had offered his assistance to those elected to prepare the food (Tony, who could allegedly cook; Inara, who could actually prepare food quite well; Natasha, who was a genius when it came to anything involving knives; and Coulson – well, the jury was still out on his food preparation skills). Luckily, they were making soup, which was fairly easy and very hard to get wrong. Book had insisted on vegetable soup, and Stark had insisted on alphabet pasta. It was going quite well so far. They’d had to get an industrial-sized pot, though – which was about the time that Zoe walked through, carrying an inordinate number of lamps.

After all the chopping and dicing and adding was over, the tired cooking team had a break while the soup simmered – which was why Book even noticed Clint when he came in. The archer looked slightly tired, a little worried, but mostly… warm. He was smiling fondly at something he held. Book realized that it was a photograph; no, two photographs, both well-worn and clearly loved. Clint took a peek around to see if anyone was watching (he overlooked Book, which was not unusual), then put the photographs up on the fridge with a couple of magnets and snuck out as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Under the guise of getting a beer for Tony, Book went over to the fridge and examined the photos. One was of a young couple with two children, a boy and a girl; the other was of a much larger family of one older woman along with a woman and two men who looked to be her children, as well as the woman’s husband and the wife of one of the men. There were also five children total in the picture. Book squinted at the man farthest to the right. He looked very much like Jayne; Book would be willing to bet that he was, in fact, Jayne. Huh. Book brought Tony his beer, then sat down with his own, mulling over what he was going to do about the photos on the fridge. Finally, he asked Tony if he would be so kind as to fetch an old man another beer. Tony laughed and went for one, only to be stopped by the photographs (which he examined with interest). He handed off the beer, then walked around the kitchen for a little while, drumming his fingers on the countertops. “Guys, I’ll be back,” he finally said, “I have some stuff I wanna do. JARVIS, call me when dinner’s ready.” He scooted out of the kitchen.

“Typical,” Natasha remarked dryly. “Understatement, Agent Romanov” was Coulson’s equally dry response.

To Book’s surprise, JARVIS took the opportunity to tell him politely and very quietly, “Your soup is boiling over, sir.” Book felt a smile creeping onto his face, little bit by little bit. When he turned back to the group, it had fully blossomed. The soup seemed to have gained a mind of its own and was escaping the pot with a bubbly roar, industrial-sized though it was, and Book couldn’t help but laugh as the cooking team frantically tried to contain it. He might have had an idea to help Jayne, but these people were on their own with the seemingly sentient soup.

Chapter Text

Mal tried to resist the urge to smack his forehead into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. He succeeded. Barely. “Jayne, I’ve told you; I got no gorram idea when we’re gonna get out of here. I sure don’t know how, and I don’t want to step on these folks’ toes when I don’t know if they even know how to send us and Serenity back to where we came from. Dong ma?”

Jayne growled and paced in agitation, lookin’ for all the ‘verse like a caged tiger waitin’ to be fed. “Mal, this place gives me an uncomfortableness. Don’t like bein’ land-bound for too long. Makes me feel like the feds are gonna be knockin’ on the door any second.”

Mal breathed out sharply through his nose. “Jayne, don’t give me that niushi. I know why you’re in such a hurry, and if you don’t want everyone knowin’ and you want t’ keep your private life private, you’ll stop pestering me so. Fine. I’ll talk to our very generous hosts and see what they can do. Now get out of shootin’ distance before I do something I’m not sure if I’ll regret.” He shooed Jayne off and sighed, smacking his forehead with his palm. Mal was about to go and find some painkillers for the headache that was buildin’ behind his eyes when a flash of color caught his eye.

He groaned and ran his head into the wall repeatedly. Of course. Someone had to go and listen in on that conversation. If they brought it up, Jayne would think that Mal had blabbed, and the last thing Mal would see in this world would be Vera’s barrel. Zaogao. He definitely needed something for the storm that was raging inside his skull – the stronger, the better.

Chapter Text

As Tony was slipping off to his workshop, he heard very loud Mandarin yelling down a corridor, so he snuck over to check out the source of the noise. It was Jayne and Mal screaming at each other, and even though Tony only caught every other word or so, it was enough for him to get the gist of the argument: Jayne was in a hurry to get back to where he came from, and Mal understood that, but wasn’t sure if he could do anything about it, and was frustrated because this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. Tony ran off as soon as the argument ended; he needed time to digest what he had heard, and also he had realized he was intruding on something private. I know why you’re in such a hurry… you want to keep your private life private… don’t like being land-bound for too long… don’t give me that…

Tony’s thoughts drifted back to the photos on the fridge. He wasn’t stupid. He’d realized that one was of Clint’s family and the other was Jayne’s family; he just wasn’t sure how they fit with the other pieces of the puzzle that he’d collected. He paced around the workshop until JARVIS told him dryly, “Sir, I think if you pace anymore, your legs will fall off. I am an AI, and you are making me dizzy.”

Tony fished for something snarky to say, but decided that none of his responses were good enough and found a stool to sit on. “Did I miss anything good today, J?” he asked instead, reaching for a screwdriver and tinkering with some random scraps. JARVIS sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Yes, sir,” he replied, then pulled up a video from the kitchen. The soup had apparently animated itself and tried to slither out of the pot and onto the floor, and it was battled by a surprised and slightly terrified cooking crew while Book laughed himself silly watching the team’s sorry efforts to contain the soup. Tony just watched, shook his head, and snorted.

“Anything else?” JARVIS chuckled. “Yes, sir. Mr. Odinson and Mr. Loki got into an argument earlier about the merits of anchovies on pizza. It was quite hilarious.” Tony laughed and asked, “Who was for and who was against?” as he popped a blueberry into his mouth. JARVIS was really laughing now. “They were both against, but they managed to find a way to argue with each other anyway, sir,” he managed. If he were human, he would have been shaking with laughter. “I think you had to be there, sir.”

Tony smirked. “Maybe. J, do you by any chance know why Mal and Jayne were screaming at each other in the hallway?”

“I might have an inkling,” JARVIS admitted, “but it is not my place to tell you, sir; I doubt Mr. Cobb would appreciate it if I discussed his personal life with you.” Tony rolled his eyes. “C’mon, JARVIS, I promise it’ll stay between you and me.” JARVIS sighed, sounding resigned. “All right, sir, I’ll tell you, but you had better not come up with any hare-brained schemes.”

Tony grinned and crossed his fingers. “Promise,” he chirped.

Chapter Text

As the group sat at Tony’s giant dining table and ate their hard-won soup, Steve innocently commented, “Captain, it must be odd for you, having a Companion as your girl. Can’t imagine it’s easy to share her.” Serenity’s crew did a double take, and Book snorted soup. Mal, Natasha was amused to note, had gotten very flustered. Inara just rolled her eyes. “I’m not his anything. All he does is rent me a shuttle and be very annoying.”

“I can see it, though,” Wash commented, shoveling soup into his face, “you know, little kids with his hair and your nose running around.” “Speaking of family,” Tony interrupted before it could get violent, “I didn’t know you had a brother, Clint.” Clint looked mildly surprised, but nodded. “Yeah. Got an older brother, but he just… disappeared one day. We don’t know where he went, or even if he’s still alive. He left behind a pregnant wife and two kids.”

Tony chewed, looking thoughtful. “That’s gotta be really hard on them. How do they get by?” Clint shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Fury helped me set something up,” he admitted. “I send them a good part of my paycheck every time payday rolls around, and they do all right. It just a good thing that I get paid pretty regularly and that the family isn’t bigger. That would be really hard.”

Jayne stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair, and left the room. “What’s his problem?” Tony asked flippantly, but from his expression, Natasha was pretty sure that this whole conversation had been deliberate. She gave Clint a look that said I know you’re in on this and I am vaguely disapproving but also curious and waited to see how this would play out.

“He’s a mite sensitive,” Kaylee finally said, “seein’ as how he’s got a big family himself, and he sends ‘em money whenever he gets his hands on a little.” “Yeah, but something tells me that isn’t the whole story,” Natasha interjected. Mal sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he admitted, “He an’ I had a fight ‘bout it earlier. Since we’re kinda… stranded here, he can’t send any coin home to his folks, and it’s eatin’ him up.” Tony considered this information for a second, and Natasha could see all the puzzle pieces falling into place.

He suddenly stood up and walked out, grabbing Bruce by the wrist. “SCIENCE!” he declared. Bruce looked forlornly at his soup. “But I’m still hungry,” he said mournfully. Natasha refilled his bowl and handed it to him as Tony dragged him down to the lab. As they disappeared out of sight, the crews heard an incredulous cry of, “INTERDIMENSIONAL PORTALS, TONY?! DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME WE TRIED THIS? DO YOU?! WHAT IF WE CREATE A RIFT IN THE FABRIC OF TIME AND SPACE? WHAT IF WE END UP DESTROYING THE KNOWN UNIVERSE, OR BRINGING THE MULTIVERSE CRASHING DOWN AROUND OUR EARS?! HOW IS THIS A GOOD IDEA?!” And then an answering cry of, “BUT SCIENCE, BRUCE!” Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Pepper facepalm really, really hard.

Chapter Text

The one-eyed man with a thousand eyes (that was much too long a name, she would have to find something else, but it did suit him) made a reappearance soon. There was a day between the dinner and his visit, a day that Anthony and Bruce spent working until Steve-Heart went down the labs and carried them back upstairs to sleep.

River didn’t like sleeping, not after all the sleeping she’d done against her will, but she tolerated it, as it was necessary for her to function. Anthony seemed to operate under the assumption that he could evolve to a higher life form that did not need sleep and ran on caffeine – at least until River cheerfully mentioned that her brother had things on the ship that would make Anthony sleep whether he wanted to or not. While he was unconscious, she knitted what Pepper-Angel dubbed a “Stark Cozy” onto him. Wash-Pilot had made some quip about how sleepiness is weakness of character, ask anyone that made Zoe-Wolf laugh.

River found that people preferred if you used their given names, but she also gave them a little hyphenated nickname at the end, in case she ever met two people with the same name – it had occurred to her that most people on Earth-That-Was were a little less creative with their naming traditions.

The one-eyed man’s appearance had been expected this time, and River had made him a sweater and jammed it over his head before he could protest. She beamed at his scowling face and patted him affectionately on the head before skipping behind Coulson-Cheese, whom she counted on to protect her. She saw Simon-Brother running his head into a wall and snickered to herself. Coulson-Cheese just shrugged at Eye Man before gesturing for him to speak.

“We’ve got a mission,” he said, pulling the sweater down and smoothing it. “We found a key HYDRA base. They’ve got Loki’s scepter; stole it from a secure SHIELD facility. We have to destroy the base and get it back. Any questions?” No one spoke. Eye Man stepped forward, walking to Jayne-Gun. Nothing was a surprise to River, but if she could have been surprised, she would have been. “Mr. Cobb, we hear you’re a pretty good shot. We’d like your help specifically on this mission. Wear something warm; it’s pretty damn cold.” He strode away and out of the room, then out of the building. “Yes!” Jayne-Gun said happily. “Gotta go get Vera.” “You can borrow one of my coats,” Steve-Heart offered. To everyone else’s surprise, Jayne-Gun accepted the offer with grace. “Can we all come?” asked Mal-Captain, afraid of missing out on a good fight. “I’m sure we can arrange it, yes,” Coulson-Cheese said diplomatically. River grinned. This was going to be very, very fun.

She went to her room and bundled up in clothing she had bought, made, and stolen and retrieved the throwing knives that Jayne-Gun had been teaching her to use in exchange for not pranking him (disappointing but worthwhile), as well as her sword and battle ax, which she had kept after her encounter with the Reavers. When she returned to the group, they had warm clothes with them too. Bruce was wearing the sweater she had made him. She wondered how long it would take him to figure out that she had engineered the fiber in Anthony’s lab to be very strong, incredibly soft, and violently stretchy. What was an oversized sweater on Bruce would be a regular sized sweater on Fierce-Green, and would shrink back when he did.

River loved her people dearly and did everything she could think of to make them feel safer and happier – even if she did sometimes prank them or rub soup in their hair.

They stepped into a Quinjet that had arrived to take them to the battle, and River settled in comfortably between Bruce and Natasha-Red. She slept of her own will, and her dreams were ominous – not dreams at all but warnings. Warnings she would heed. She would fight to protect her family, fight until her hands and weapons were dripping with blood. These were not Reavers. These were men, and they did not know to fear her. But they would.

Chapter Text

Coulson watched River carefully from the other side of the Quinjet, where he was sandwiched between Tony and Mal and their egos. They were silent, though, and he let his mind wander. At least, until he realized that River was talking in her sleep in a foreign language.

“Mr. Tam, does your sister normally speak in Farsi?” he asked. Simon went pale. “N-no,” he whispered. “Hmm.”

Coulson listened and mentally translated. Minds broken; things hidden in darkness force them to be swallowed by it; cut them down; beware the Gemini; everyone creates what they fear most; two by two, hands of blue; blood on the hands, blood on the knives, blood on snow; everything is never as it seems; they will learn to fear the albatross. “I don’t understand what she’s saying, even though I know Farsi,” Coulson admitted. He repeated what he had understood of her words, and everyone looked thoughtful.

“Everything is never as it seems is pretty straightforward,” Bruce said slowly, “and Gemini are twins, so we have to beware the twins. Whoever they are. I don’t know any twins, do you?” Mal considered it. “Well, there’s Fanty and Mingo, but I’m pretty sure that however we got here, they didn’t come along,” he pointed out. Zoe whistled lowly. “Haven’t thought about those boys in forever. Wonder how they’re gettin’ along.” “As badly as usual, probably,” Mal retorted.

“Focus!” Inara snapped, clutching the long, thin package that she carried in her lap. “They will learn to fear the albatross,” Book said. “Isn’t ‘albatross’ your nickname for her, Captain?” Mal nodded. “Well, then, all that remains to be seen is who ‘they’ are.”

On that cheerful note, the conversation ended. Eyes grew heavy and people fell asleep. Coulson looked around and saw that River’s eyes were open and staring at him. “Are you awake?” he asked her.

She smiled in a way that sent chills down his spine. “Are you?” Her eyes snapped shut again, and as she fell back into sleep, she muttered, “I see them. They’re coming.”

Chapter Text

Kaylee’d had to more or less force her way onto the Quinjet, but there was no way she was lettin’ Simon go alone. She still wanted to have her way with him, an’ they’d only done that a couple times. If she had anything to say ‘bout it, they were both gonna live through this, evil folk be damned. ‘Sides, River’d been teachin’ her to shoot, so she was prepared this time. An’ as she’d pointed out, she could help if anything needed fixin’ – or breakin’.

After a long flight – an’ a nice long nap – they got to a snow-covered place with trees an’ a big gray buildin’ risin’ up out of the ground. “That’s the base,” Phil told everybody, and then they was gettin’ parachutes and bein’ dropped outta the plane. Kaylee didn’t fancy it much, but then it wasn’t up to her.

Tony tried to fly in an’ attack, but hit a force field. He cussed, an’ Steve told him to mind his language. Before they could fight ‘bout it like usual, Kaylee said into her com, “Got somethin’ that River an’ I made that might help with that.” Tony swooped down an’ took it, an’ Kaylee instructed him to jam it in the ground as close as he could get to the force field. He did, an’ then there was a high-pitched hum an’ she could see the force field as it collapsed. Tony whistled. “Handy.” An’ then he found a window and flew in.

Meanwhile Clint was takin’ out the gun turrets with his explodin’ arrows – and attractin’ a lot of attention. “Somebody cover me,” he said. Then there was a ‘pff’ sound over the com, as if he’d just got hit by somethin’ like a snowball, an’ then a strange voice sayin’, “You didn’t see that coming?” Clint groaned. “Ugh, he moves faster than I can see. The little shit.”

“Well,” Book commented as he ran off to cover Clint with his gun (‘cause the Bible was somewhat fuzzier on the subject of kneecaps), “it looks like we found half of the Gemini.” River smiled at that an’ charged off into the thick of battle. Steve was riskin’ life and limb an’ nobody was gonna have that. He was too nice to let die.

River was like a hurricane, a blur of silvery metal and girl. She looked fierce an’ a little scary, an’ she was grinnin’ ear to ear as she cut down soldier after soldier. Jayne was perched up in a tree firin’ out the ones who tried to run, an’ he was grinnin’ too. “C’mon girl, leave me a few!” he said, but he sounded too happy to be really annoyed. An’ then all of a sudden, River fell to her knees. “She’s here,” she hissed, an’ her eyes slid shut.

Kaylee screamed. “River!” But like normal, she didn’t have to fret. River was back on her feet in a split second, an’ runnin’ into the building. “Anthony needs help!” she yelled. “Minds broken! Things hidden in darkness force them to be swallowed by it!” An’ then she was gone, an’ Kaylee moved up to cover Steve with Jayne. She wasn’t gonna let her family get hurt. Never. Even if she was kinda bad at killin’ folk.

Chapter Text

It had been easy for Wanda to find Tony Stark. It had been even easier to trap him in his worst nightmares.

Interesting, she thought; his worst nightmare was causing the death of those he loved. She saw faces she knew from the news: Pepper Potts, the Avengers team; and then there were some she didn’t know: a small girl with reddish brown hair, a big man clutching a gun, a beautiful dark-haired woman, a man in a long brown coat, a wisp of a girl with haunted eyes and a dark smile.

As Wanda watched, the dark girl in the vision suddenly got up and walked over to where Tony Stark stood, taking his hand. “This isn’t real,” she whispered. “It’s my fault,” the man said with anguish. The girl smiled, a smile that scared Wanda just a little, and started to glow slightly silver. “They’re just resting,” she told the man, squeezing his hand. “See?” Around them, the people Tony Stark cared for most began to rise. Wounds healed, eyes opened, and weapons flew back into their hands. They stood, an elite army with strong bonds, and the girl smiled. “They answer the call.” She clapped her hands and Wanda was snapped violently out of Tony Stark’s head, only to see her brother tied to a chair and the girl from the vision standing over her.

“You changed it,” she said in wonder. “You changed his worst nightmare, what I made him see. How is that possible?” The girl smiled like she had in Tony Stark’s head. “The albatross is capable of many things,” she said as if dazed, but her eyes were too sharp, like they were staring into Wanda’s soul. “You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you’re coming with us,” the girl declared, reaching out and pulling Wanda to her feet.

Wanda tried to see her mind, but it was like staring at the sun – blinding and painful. The girl watched her with some level of amusement, then turned and untied Pietro and helped Tony Stark to his feet.

“You stand with us now,” she announced, “because you’re part of my family.” Pietro scowled. “What makes you think we want to be?” The girl looked at him with a strangely soft expression. “Because you remind me of my brother Simon, and your sister reminds me of me. You’re both lonely even though you have each other, and even though you tried to hurt my family, I see the good in both of you.” She grinned at Pietro. “What, you didn’t see that coming?” she asked, replicating his accent perfectly.

Wanda threw back her head and laughed.

Chapter Text

When Bruce was done Hulking out, he fell face-first in a snowbank. Luckily, Tony was there to pull him out; River and two young people he didn’t know were behind him.

“Who are they?” he gasped as the icy air hit his bare skin. Tony jerked his thumb at the two – presumably brother and sister, if not… “Oh, god, those are the twins, aren’t they? Beware the Gemini and all that,” Bruce groaned. Tony nodded and said, “Yeah, they kinda tried to kill me earlier and the girl trapped me inside my head in my worst nightmare, but we’re cool now. And apparently River’s a psychic. And apparently we’re bringing them back with us, because River likes them. After she saved my life, I’m just gonna go with it. Let’s go.”

Bruce put up with Tony’s babbling as they walked back to the Quinjet. “Okay, somebody’s gonna have to sit on the floor,” Jayne pointed out as they approached, strapping his gun to his back. “I vote those two, whoever they are.”

Poor Kaylee looked like she was wilting. “Ain’t they the ones…?” she started, sagging in her seat. Tony nodded and told the group firmly, “River saved me from them, and then decided she liked them and wanted to keep them. Since she kept me from dying, I’m gonna trust her on this one. Oh, and why did no one tell us she’s a psychic?” The crew of Serenity looked vaguely embarrassed, but the girl in red spoke up from the corner. “It’s a good thing for you that you didn’t know,” she said in a heavily accented voice. “Since I didn’t know what she was or what she was doing, or even that she had invaded the nightmare I sent you into, I wasn’t able to put up shields to prevent her from getting in.” River smiled and leaned against Bruce.

“Wait,” Tony said suddenly, “is that the sweater you were wearing before you Hulked out?” Bruce looked down; it was, indeed, the same overlarge green sweater. It wasn’t even stretched out. “It seems so,” he replied. “How-?” “Damned if I know, Tony.” Tony thought for a moment, then asked, “Where’d you get it?” Bruce jerked his thumb at River, who grinned in delight. “Okay, we are so talking about this when we get back,” Tony decided. “But first, a nap.”

They all strapped themselves back into the Quinjet and dozed off one by one. Bruce looked over at River, still sandwiched between him and Natasha, and asked, “Why?” That was his pressing question, even more than Tony’s How? River smiled. “Fierce-Green needs warmth. It makes him less grumpy. I like Fierce-Green. He’s like me. Sometimes he’s a person and sometimes he’s something more, and he needs to be understood more than anything.” Bruce laughed. “I’m not sure anyone understands you, River,” he said kindly. She just blinked and snuggled up against his shoulder. “You and Natasha more than most,” she said, and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Simon tagged along to the labs with Tony and Bruce and River to see if she could, in fact, replicate the fiber she’d made the sweater out of. The stuff was literally bulletproof, as well as really cozy. They had the SHIELD Director’s blessing on the project; not so much on the twins, Wanda and Pietro.

“Absolutely not,” he had declared, gesturing for SHIELD agents to detain them. River put her hand on the hilt of her sword and stared hard, and they backed up instead of coming forward. Before things could get violent, Agent Coulson walked over to stand beside River. “Sir… I sent you a detailed report, in which I mentioned her coded warnings in Farsi. With all due respect, Director, I believe that this is a similar situation. I understand what she’s saying, but not why she’s saying it. And, sir, she hasn’t steered us wrong yet. Please give them a chance and trust her judgement.” The Director gave the twins a considering look. “Fine, but they have to be contained.”

Bruce looked outraged at the idea, and Loki looked up from where he was sitting and playing cards with a brunette woman in spectacles and elegantly raised a single eyebrow. “Yes, and that worked so well last time,” he drawled, smirking as he did so. The Director had conceded the point, then moved on to another pressing matter. “Loki may not have the scepter back,” he declared. “He’s done enough damage already.” “Aw, come on,” the brunette card-player said, “Loki doesn’t have any special powers right now.” “No,” Steve had interrupted, “but he does have a super-suit.”

The two of them had looked at each other and burst into laughter, and pretty soon Tony, Pepper, Clint, and Natasha were laughing with them. Bruce and the other brunette woman at the card table just shook their heads and tried not to smile. They failed miserably when everyone else looked really, really confused.

“It’s… a movie,” the spectacled brunette had gasped, clutching at her ribs. Then she looked around. “Darcy Lewis; I’m Jane’s intern,” she said, gesturing at the other brunette, who gave a slight wave. “Doctor Jane Foster, astrophysicist,” she told them. “Lady Jane!” Thor had boomed. “And Lady Darcy! Wonderful to see the both of you!” And he had very gently leaned down and kissed the astrophysicist while Loki and Darcy exchanged disgusted looks.

Jane and Darcy turned out to be staying at Stark Tower for the time being, and Simon had already had a few conversations with Jane, who turned out to be not only brilliant, but kind as well. She had warmed instantly to Kaylee, showing her how her apparatuses worked, and then spent a good long while hobnobbing with Tony and Bruce. Meanwhile Darcy and Loki had commandeered the couch and started playing Mario Kart. Before long, Clint, Wash, Mal, and surprisingly Pepper had gotten roped in, and there was a fairly epic tournament with a lot of trash talk involved. Pepper wiped the floor with everyone else, Loki and Darcy coming in at a distant second and third. Mal lost spectacularly.

All that had led up to Simon following Tony and Bruce and River down to the labs, Jane trailing behind. “How’d you do it the first time, River?” Tony asked eagerly. “If I may, sir,” JARVIS interrupted from the ceiling, “she used your equipment.” “WHAT?!” Tony yelped. “When was she in my lab?!” “Between 1:42 and 5:02 AM a few days ago, sir,” JARVIS said politely. ”How?!” “She knew your password, sir. I must admit, I was skeptical at first, but she even said it with your inflection.” Tony looked, as Kaylee would say, gobsmacked. “She knew my- what?! She did WHAT?!” Bruce looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. River’s eyes were mirthful. Tony sighed and shook his head, then told JARVIS to let them all in.

“Now,” Bruce said politely, “River, if you can, would you show us how you did it?” River was off, running back and forth and up and down the stairs and to and fro in a dizzying pattern. When all was said and done, she had more than fifty items piled up on one of the lab tables, which creaked despairingly under all the weight. At least half of it was foodstuffs.

“How do… spaghetti, coffee grounds, yogurt, vodka, and canned peaches go into the making of bulletproof fiber?” Tony asked, sounding a little like he was going to cry. River didn’t bother to answer, just started measuring and mixing and distilling. And at the end of it all, she had skeins upon skeins of what seemed like the softest wool but couldn’t be destroyed in any way any of the scientists could think of. Tony was staring wide-eyed, looking like a little kid. “This girl makes me look like a five-year-old with finger paint,” he whimpered. River patted him on the shoulder with hands covered in the juice of canned peaches. “I never made any new elements,” she said consolingly, then went to wash off. Tony turned to look at Pepper, who had just arrived, his eyes lighting up. “Can we keep her?” “NO,” Simon said sharply, only to hear River’s laugh echoing across the lab.

Chapter Text

It was honestly kind of awkward to have the twins around. They still harbored not-so-pleasant feelings about Tony despite the fact that he’d welcomed them into his home without question, and Steve kind of wanted to know the backstory on that. So he took the kids aside one day and asked them.

“We were ten years old, eating dinner with our parents,” Pietro began. “That was when the first bomb hit. It took out most of the floor and our parents went with it. I grabbed my sister and rolled under the bed. Then the next bomb hit. But it didn’t go off. It just sat there, and on it were painted two words: Stark Industries. It took days to move the rubble enough to get us out without setting the bomb off. And there we were, under the bed, afraid that any shift in the rubble was going to set off the bomb.” “We waited days for Tony Stark to kill us,” Wanda finished, her eyes full of anger.

Steve sighed and sat down on the couch, gesturing for them to sit as well. When they did, he said, “Look, I know that both of you suffered. And I get why you volunteered for the experiments. If anyone understands that, it’s me. It’s not fair that just because you were on the losing side, you’re monsters, and because I was on the winning side, I’m a hero. We’re just people who did what we thought was right. I get it. But Tony hasn’t exactly had it easy either. I’m not saying that what he did was okay – it wasn’t. What I’m saying is, he’s human. He makes mistakes too. That was probably about the time that he was getting kidnapped by terrorists and kept in a cave to make weapons for them while his chest was hooked up to a car battery to keep shrapnel from reaching his heart. He got out, of course, but his fellow prisoner, the one that saved his life, was killed, and then he had to walk through the desert for a day or two before he got rescued. And then it turned out to be his mentor who was responsible for that, and also responsible for selling Tony’s weapons to the terrorists in the first place. And then a psycho in a super-suit and the US government came after him while he was suffering from palladium poisoning and he almost died. Oh, and another businessman tried to ruin him, his best friend betrayed him, and Pepper kicked him out of his own house after he made her CEO. He’s an alcoholic. And he has daddy issues; he was mostly raised by the family butler. So honestly, Tony’s pretty messed up too.”

The twins were very quiet, and then a soft voice interjected, “Steve, we’re all broken. Every one of us is hurting. That’s why I chose all of you. Don’t you see?” And now that River said it, he did see. “I do now,” he said honestly, and the girl petted his hair. “Weapons. That’s all we were supposed to be. But we became more, or we already were more. And we only get stronger from here.”

Steve smiled at her, and she smiled back, and then vaulted over the back of the couch and spread out across his and the twins’ laps. Steve mock-groaned, then picked the girl up and folded her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She giggled as he carted her off down to the labs, where Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Foster were working on the interdimensional portal. “Think I’ve got something of yours,” he declared, dumping River on the beat-up couch that had taken up residence in the lab (he suspected it was an artifact from Bruce’s college days, but he wasn’t going to say anything).

Ms. Lewis popped up from behind the couch, where she was eating the strawberry yogurt that was left over from River’s fiber-making venture. “Hey, River, if you have a sec, could you teach me how to knit?” River sat up abruptly, and she went over to where the scientists were working on the portal. “You’re doing it wrong!” she said excitedly. “Cosmic stitch-ripper!” She picked up several gadgets that Steve definitely didn’t know the names of and did something complicated-looking with them. “Ohh,” Bruce said, apparently seeing where she was going with this. “Look, Tony, Jane; it’s like… finding a specific seam in the fabric of time and space and deliberately ripping out the stitches in a tiny part of it and shoving something through before sewing it back up. If we use the iridium as a stabilizing agent like Dr. Selvig did for the Tesseract, this should work…”

He went to a whiteboard and started writing out formulas and complex diagrams, and River slipped behind the couch to teach Ms. Lewis to knit.

Chapter Text

Zoe didn’t understand all the sciencey stuff, and she didn’t claim to, so she stayed well out of the way of them that did. She’d found a book about the history of Earth-That-Was and The Art of War in its original dialect and was keeping herself occupied when the couch dipped under the weight of another person sitting. She looked up from the history book and saw Captain Rogers, looking mighty uncomfortable. “Hey, Zoe,” he said quietly, “may I ask you a question?”

She smiled briefly and closed the book, marking her place. “’Course. Ask away.”

The good captain fiddled with a loose thread on his T-shirt and took a deep breath before asking her, “How did you go on, once the war was over? How did you find a reason to keep existing?” Zoe took a hard look at the man, and what she saw was weariness and sadness. It was a heavy burden to carry, even for so strong a person, and it was an expression that she saw on her own captain all too often. The question reminded her of another man – weary and broken, with no more faith in his cause – that she hadn’t thought of in a good long while. They’d left the Operative a universe away, but he still haunted her. She didn’t know whether she pitied him or hated him. Maybe both.

“Well,” she said finally, “Mal found Serenity, and fixing her up gave us something to do. Then we started doing odd jobs as a way to pay for repairs. And somewhere along the way, we got ourselves a pilot. And then a mechanic. And then a different mechanic. And then some muscle. And then I married Wash. Soon we had a family as needed feeding – our crew. It wasn’t a choice anymore. It was our way of life.” She paused before telling the captain, “You know, Mal wasn’t always a captain. He was a sergeant during the war. He and I are the only two from our battalion that survived the Battle of Serenity Valley. So we know something about losing it all and having to start again with nothing. But after that, Mal was done fighting for ideas and governments. Now he only fights for his own honor, or to defend his crew or his way of life. Me, I’m a little different. I still got faith in folk. That’s something that’s very hard for Mal, having faith.”

Captain Rogers smiled, a shaky little thing, and said, “I had a best friend. Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He died in the war, on a mission. He fell from a train. He was a sergeant, too. I miss him. And Peggy, the woman I loved. She’s not dead, but… sometimes she’s there and sometimes she isn’t. She doesn’t remember things and sometimes she sees things that aren’t there. I promised her a dance.” He wiped tears from his eyes and sighed. “Well, nothing I can do now.”

Zoe put her hand on his arm. “Tracey. Bendis. Two of my soldiers. They both died in front of me. I miss them too.” She sighed and told the captain, “Even though we both miss the people we knew, we have a lot of living folk that care about us. You got your teammates, I got my crew and my husband. We both got families. And that’s what you have to live for. Them. And once you start caring about them, they’ll start caring about you, and you all take care of each other, no matter how much niushi you all have going on.”

Captain Rogers wiped away more tears and gave her another tiny smile. “Thank you. For the advice.” Later, when Zoe went to the room she shared with Wash to get away from people, she found a photograph lying on her bed – a picture of her and Mal posing with their battalion, everyone in uniform, making silly faces. She flipped it over, and on the back was written: “Dug this out of Serenity’s archives with some help from Tony… thanks again – Steve.” Zoe smiled, tucked the photo into the front flap of her book (Pepper had told her she could keep it), and sprawled out on the bed to continue reading.

Chapter Text

As much as she liked the crew and her new friends, Inara felt frustrated and left out. She knew she wasn’t stupid or unwanted, but sometimes, between geniuses and soldiers, she couldn’t help but feel she was. So she asked JARVIS where the training center was and walked down several flights of stairs to get there. Inara pulled off her impractical high-heeled shoes and sighed, scrunching her toes up in relief and delight at the feeling of the training mats under her feet. Her dress was folded in a neat pile next to it, and instead she pulled on a pair of leggings and a tank top she’d borrowed from Natasha, then unwrapped the bundle she had carried down all those stairs.

Her bow, as always, was immaculate – no chips or scratches could be detected, the wood was polished mirror-bright, and the bowstring showed no signs of fraying. She loved that bow dearly and took good care of it; with the kind of people she spent most of her time around, she never knew when she was going to need it. Clint had also made the mistake of telling her about his arrow stash, so she raided it and set up a target. Inara had been shooting for a while when she heard a raspy, unused voice behind her. “You’re very good,” it said.

“Thank you,” she said primly, “I should be; I have been training with it for years. Fortunately I have never had to use it. It would be a pity if I had to break that streak.” Arrow still nocked, she whirled around to see who the voice belonged to. The appearance of the man didn’t reassure her at all. His hair was long and unkempt, falling around his face like a curtain; he had a black half-mask covering the lower part of his face. He was also armed to the teeth – possibly the man had more guns than Jayne – and his left arm was made of metal. “Who are you?” Inara demanded, keeping her aim steady as best she could, even though the man terrified her just as much as Jubal Early had. The Operative had been sane, though obsessively devoted to his cause, but Early’s mind – and, as she suspected, this man’s – had been well and truly lost.

The man stiffened. “Do not ask questions of the Asset. The Asset’s task is not to answer questions. The Asset’s task is to kill, and you are standing in the way of that task. You must die.” Inara’s blood ran cold at the robotic way the man spoke. There was something very wrong with him, and it wasn’t just regular insanity. This was deliberate, like how the Alliance had played with River’s brain.

“As… delightful… as that sounds, I’ll have to pass,” she told the man firmly. It helped to pretend that he was a stray dog like the ones that had lived in the streets of Sihnon, skittish and prone to biting. In the tone that she used to demand help from a stranger when one had cornered her, she calmly ordered, “JARVIS, let the others know that there is an intruder and that I would appreciate some help.” No response. Damn, this man had somehow taken down Tony’s AI, at least temporarily. She was on her own.

The man chuckled darkly. “No one can help you. The Asset has a mission, and you cannot stop the Asset. No one can.”

Inara grinned like she did whenever Mal got on her nerves or insulted her, showing as many teeth as possible. “Watch me.” And she fired. The arrow went straight into its intended target – the panic button on the opposite wall. Inara hit the floor, and the Asset’s bullet missed. Barely. Now she just had to find a way to keep him busy until help arrived.

She dove between the man’s legs and started running, ducking behind a rack of weights for cover. Using a bo staff as a vaulting pole, she launched herself to the top of a high balance beam, then hoisted herself up into the netting on the ceiling. The man had lost track of her momentarily, but she gave him three seconds maximum until he found her hiding place and shot her, so she wriggled across the netting to the top of a climbing structure that gave her a bit of cover. The Asset was now staring very hard at the ceiling. Inara knew she didn’t have any time to lose; she nocked an arrow at random and prayed very hard to Buddha, then released. Without waiting to see if she’d hit the man or done any damage, Inara swung across the metal bars of the climbing structure to the other side, then took a moment to breathe and reassess the situation. What she saw almost made her laugh. The metal-armed man was struggling to get free of a medium-sized crater in the floor; apparently the arrow had been one of Clint’s exploding ones.

Since she had the luxury of a little extra time before she had to start running again, Inara carefully aimed her next arrow for the only vulnerable area of the man’s body where it wouldn’t be lethal if she shot him – his right hand. The man didn’t make a sound as the arrow sunk into his exposed flesh, which just confirmed to Inara that something was very wrong with the man’s mind. The Asset managed to struggle out of the crater and aimed his gun at Inara’s hiding place. She ducked, and the bullet lodged in the wall behind her, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the next one. Fortunately, that was the moment a large group of pissed-off geniuses and soldiers burst into the room. Inara warily poked her head out just as Tony bitterly announced, “Hello, my name is Tony Stark. You killed my parents. Prepare to die.”

Chapter Text

Tony was about to avenge his parents (Hello, Avenger? That was what they did) when Inara yelled, “Wait! No!” He gritted his teeth. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill him right here on the spot,” he growled, and Inara made her way down from the climbing structure.

“There’s something very wrong with him,” she explained, her voice shaking, “when I shot him in the hand, he didn’t even react; he didn’t monologue; he doesn’t even call himself by name like Jubal Early. He just calls himself the Asset and refers to himself in third person all the time." Tony considered the man in front of him. He didn’t seem at all afraid of the fact that death was likely imminent. “The Asset has failed its mission,” he said evenly, “and it must be punished. Better to die than go back.” River peeked around Bruce (whom she had gotten inexplicably attached to) and looked at the man, closing her eyes for a second. Then she yelped and ran out of the room, covering her ears and screaming, “Too loud! Too loud! It hurts!”

“Well, that was helpful,” Jayne said sarcastically, and Zoe shushed him. “That just confirms what Inara said,” she announced. “If his mind is that painful to River, someone’s been messin’ with his brain.” To Tony’s surprise, Simon, who had never struck him as very brave, stepped forward and knelt so he was on the man’s level. “My name is Simon Tam,” he said slowly and gently, “I’m a doctor. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to check for injuries and run a few tests. We won’t make you go back there, all right? You’re safe now.” The man shook, then nodded jerkily. Simon started by slowly removing the man’s weapons, one-by-one, handing them to Jayne. It was another unusual act for the doctor, Tony thought, as he didn’t seem to trust Jayne any further than he could throw him. But if Tony really gave it some consideration, he understood: the kid was a medical doctor. He had to be cool under pressure. He kept himself calm by seeing this dangerous man as a patient in dire need of medical assistance. It was pretty impressive, really. And perhaps it was because Simon was a civilian, because he couldn’t really defend himself, that the Asset found it in himself to trust the doctor a miniscule amount. The fact that there were no needles in sight probably didn’t hurt either, Tony reflected.

Bruce was breathing strangely behind him, and he made a few gestures and stuttered out, “I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna go now…” before racing out of the room.

Chapter Text

Loki was curious despite himself when Dr. Banner sprinted up the stairs and practically hurled himself into his room, slamming the door behind him. Shortly after, there was the sound of someone vomiting, a flushing toilet, and messy sobbing. Loki tiptoed over to the door and hesitantly knocked. When he got no response, he let himself in. Banner was sitting, leaned up against the wall opposite the bathroom, knees clutched to his chest and his eyes shut tightly. Something unpleasant tugged in Loki’s stomach, and he sighed quietly and sat down next to Banner, sliding down the wall slowly until he was on the floor.

“I don’t suppose asking if you wish to talk about it would garner a satisfactory response,” Loki drawled, and Dr. Banner looked up in shock. His eyes were teary and red, and he still stank of vomit as he replied angrily, “What’s it to you?” It lost its intended effect when his voice cracked halfway through. Quietly, Loki responded, “I know you believe that I am unfeeling, Doctor Banner, but I am not. To speak the truth, I have not… been myself, of late. My master, Thanos, found me broken and made me into his puppet - much as I did to Barton and Selvig. The entire war, the great battle… it is nothing more to me than a half-remembered blur of a dream. That is the only reason that I am not in great anguish – I am still too much in shock to feel anything of it yet. Before that… I too would have fits of anger when I was not myself, when it felt as if I was watching myself and looking from the outside in. Disgusted with my behavior and yet unable to stop myself. As much as I would gladly pretend it was not so… I understand your pain somewhat. And I am sorry for whatever portion of it I have caused.”

Banner leaned forward and put his face in his hands. “It’s not you. It’s… it’s in my head, in my body… it’s me. It always is.” Loki sighed and leaned back. “Those fits of rage I told you of – those would be followed by days, sometimes weeks of horrible guilt. I felt mired in it, unable to be around others because clearly I could not be trusted. I hated myself for something that I knew, deep inside myself, I had almost no power to control. I would lash out at the ones I loved most, and then agonize in the knowledge that I had done so. And I still… I still struggle to control it sometimes,” he admitted, “but my mother… she would always sit on the other side of my chamber door and speak with me, help me work through my strange and violent emotions. I could not always accept her help; I would hurl insults at her, sometimes strike her, but she would always return, as calm as ever. I never… got to tell her how much it truly meant to me. And now I cannot. Odin has forbidden me from seeing her ever again. It angered me, but I knew it was to protect her. And for that I cannot hate him.” Banner wiped his eyes. He wiped his nose. “Any of them mention the fact that I tried to kill myself? I put a gun in my mouth and pulled the goddamn trigger, but the Hulk wouldn’t let me die. I think, now, he was trying to protect me. But then… I was so furious that he wouldn’t let me end it all, wouldn’t let me be free of myself – the one thing I could never outrun, never hide from, never get rid of. I hated myself. Still do, to be completely honest. And with all the excitement this past week… I forgot to take my meds. Imagine that – a doctor forgetting to take his own medication.” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “And now… I’m surprised, honestly, that it took me this long to devolve into a basket case.”

Loki patted him lightly on the shoulder, then got up and went into the bathroom. He returned with a cup of water and a bottle of pills. “These would start you on your way to feeling saner, would they not?” Banner managed to nod, reaching out for the cup and the container of medication. He took three of the capsules within, then closed the lid and set the bottle aside. Loki sat back down beside the doctor. “I tried to kill myself as well, you know, Banner,” he told the man without preamble, not daring to look at his expression. “I could have let myself be saved when I fell off the Bifrost. But I let go. I do not know what I believed would happen, but suffice it to say that what did occur was not what I intended.”

Dr. Banner did not look up for a long while, but when he did, there was a wry slip of a smile on his face. “Bruce, please. We both tried to kill each other and now we’ve both told our suicide-attempt stories to each other; I think we should be on a first-name basis.” And suddenly both of them were chuckling, even though nothing that had occurred was amusing in a traditional sense; gallows humor had its moments. Loki knew that he and the doctor – Bruce – were still both far from “all right”, but this was a relief. It felt right. It felt better. It was a first step, a new start on the path to being more or less whole again, and Loki smiled.

Chapter Text

Jayne had to hand it to the doc – he was handlin’ a situation that’d have a lotta guys pissin’ themselves pretty damn well, really.

He’d seen this side ‘a the kid before, a time he doesn’t like to think about much (at the hospital, where Simon ruttin’ Tam had took control and saved a man’s life, easy as anything, all calm authority and determination, and Jayne wouldn’t ever say it, but it shocked him – impressed him, even). Between his own damn stupidity and his greediness, he’d nearly got ‘em killed – and for what? He told himself then his family needed the money. But he knew (knew then, too) his Ma would be powerful mad if he’d got the crazy girl and the good doctor killed gettin’ it.

He’d heard later what the men after the gorram killer girl did to those fellas who arrested ‘em. Blood out ears, nose, eyes… an ugly way to go. Better a nice clean bullet to the brainpan. He’d wondered sometimes if it wouldn’t be a mercy to kill the crazy girl, ‘stead ‘a leavin’ her with half a broken mind – like puttin’ down a rabid dog. He’d seen the pictures of her brain her brother’d wanted so bad, and Jayne might not’ve known much ‘bout ‘em, but he knew it didn’t often go good when you tunneled through brains like some kind ‘a termite colony. But sometimes he saw flashes of somethin’ like a person, the way she musta been ‘fore they sliced up her brain: when she danced, sometimes; or when she et somethin’ she liked, or when she ran ‘round with Kaylee or played cards, sometimes he’d see the kid behind the crazy. He liked that person, even – reminded him of his sister, Charlie. He had a hard time rememberin’ that girl’s the same one who’d took on an army of Reavers and won, who’d carved him up like a roast with a kitchen knife, who seemed a few steps away from bein’ a Reaver herself on her bad days.

He shook his head. No use dwellin’ now. He had his whole life goin’ forward; he could look back at the end. He watched as the doc talked real gentle to the crazy fella – and hell, that man just weren’t right – like he was a spooked horse, got ‘im to pull off his own armor and holsters. And Jayne knew the doc did that for a reason, even if he didn’t know why. It was one ‘a the few things he’d ever admit to likin’ about the man: the fact that he didn’t say much, that he thought most every word through before sayin’ it. The less a man said, the more it meant when he had somethin’ to say – Jayne’s Ma told ‘im that, and it’s a good bit ‘a wisdom. Jayne’s only ever really thought ‘a two people as wise: his Ma and the Shepherd.

He scoffed at himself. Woolgatherin’. Never got no one anywhere but into trouble, his Ma said. The doc looked up at him and asked, real tetchy, “Got something you’d like to share with us?” Jayne blinked. “Uh, no, nah.” “Good,” the doc went on, real matter-of-fact, “why don’t you get Mr. Stark to show you a place where you can store those weapons?” Jayne glanced over at Stark and knew right off why the doc said it – the man was lookin’ jumpier and jumpier by the second, and Jayne could tell the man’s trigger finger was gettin’ a mite itchy. He nudged the man in the ribs, and Stark jumped. “Uh, yeah, let me just… this way.”

Jayne followed him out into the hall, only to stop short when River popped outta nowhere. “Holy hell, girl!” he yelped, dropping a few guns (but thankfully not the grenades). She scooped ‘em up and set ‘em back on top ‘a the pile. Then somethin’ caught her eye in the room behind Jayne and Stark’s backs, and she froze, let out a soft, “Oh.” She rushed over to Zoe, and Jayne saw her whisper somethin’ in Zoe’s ear before runnin’ past him and Stark and disappearin’ up the steps. Zoe whipped around to look at the blond Captain, then put a hand on the doc’s shoulder and ordered, real soft, “Take off his mask.” Jayne couldn’t do nothin’ but stand and stare as the mask came off and the blond Captain’s eyes went real wide. “Bucky?” The long-haired crazy fella looked at him, face blank, and asked, “Who the hell is Bucky?” And aw, no, ruttin’ hell, this was more than Jayne could handle; he shoved Stark with his shoulder and followed River’s path up the steps, not really carin’ whether Stark followed or not.

He was gettin’ away from this craziness right now, damn it.