Disclaimer: Marvel Entertainment owns everything, with the exception of Cat who is my own creation and various others who I will indentify as this progresses. This is a work of fanfic, no
copyright infringement intended.
Author's note: this takes place after Civil war, but before Secret invasion.
Traitor.
(Flashbacks
Speaking in French.)
"Never let anyone say that a mutant with a healing factor can't get tension headaches." Cat thought, forcing herself to stand up and walk around the cramp confines of the aircraft. Her head, neck and back felt like they were on fire.
"You O.k.?"
The voice belonged to Bethany Cabe, Starks' security chief for his business.
"Headache." She grunted in reply. A small part of her that wasn't aching laughed. She was getting more like Logan every day.
"I've got some..." Bethany began, but Cat cut her off.
"Drugs have no effect on me."
"I'm sorry," Bethany started, but Cat cut her off.
"Don't be." She walked off. Bethany sighed.
"Well that went well." She observed sarcastically to the room.
"Could have gone worse." Carol Danvers, Ms Marvel observed, looking up. "Cat's just in a bad mood at the minute. She'll bite anyone who speaks to her head off."
"Why?" Bethany asked. "I thought she was pleased about the trip."
Carol shifted uncomfortably.
"The invite was for Cat, SHIELD and the Avengers. However it was... tactfully understood that by SHIELD, they meant Nick Fury and by Avengers they meant Steve." She paused for a moment to restore her composure.
"But it didn't say that." Bethany pointed out.
"That's what Tony said." Carol replied. "He and Cat had a huge row on the subject, which ended with Cat informing him, that if he persisted in coming then she would make his life as complicated as possible."
"She serious?"
"Deadly." A voice replied. Carol cursed herself for not noticing that Cat had left her book on her seat when she left. She now stood there, gazing at the pair of them.
"Cat," Carol began, but cat held up her hand.
"Carol. Don't. Or I'll say something I won't regret." She collected her book and left.
Bethany stared after her.
"Like I said," Carol observed, "could have gone worse."
France 1943
"Sometimes," Mimi said, pouring a glass of wine. "I don't think the war will ever be over." She gazed around Cafe René. The cafe was closed, but the resistance fighters had gathered there to discuss their plans.
"Don't be daft." Bucky said, taking a swig of cola.
"Yeah!" Cat said, sipping lemonade, "if nothing else both sides will run out of young men to die."
It was a poor attempt at a joke, and received the reception it deserved.
"The German's reckon," she continued, taking another a sip, "1945, for this to be over."
"Cept they reckon they'll be in charge." Bucky said, chuckling softly.
Mimi smiled as well, pouring a beer, which she slide across the table. Logan caught it.
"You sure you haven't had an enough?" Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan asked.
"He's a Canuck, Dum Dum," Fury growled. "They're born with nipples on their beer bottles"
Laughter this time was sincerely and heartfelt.
"Can tell you why René worried about the war ending." Logan growled softly. "He's worried he'll lose his best customers!"
How it happened, Cat wasn't sure. The tampering of various governments and the passage of time made sure of that. But somehow it was agreed that they would all come back in 65 years.
Cat had forgotten about it, if she was perfectly honest. She had been reminded about a week before the Secret war blew up, by a letter on her desk. René was inviting them all to celebrate their 65th anniversary, and to attend the opening of a museum dedicated to the war years of Nuvian.
She bit her lip as she thought of the years since that invitation.
Steve dead, Nick and Logan underground, a mutant registration act! About the only good thing she could think of was Bucky coming back to life.
Still, no matter where they were, Cat was sure, whatever Dum Dum and Stark thought, that Logan and Nick would be there. And she knew something else.
That for supporting the Superheroes registration act; René would make Tony life as difficult as possible.
Cuddling that thought against her chest, she settled down with a nod to Dugan, and willed herself to sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I thought," Natasha Romaffo, a.k.a. The Black Widow said, "That it was traditional to play the American anthem on these occasions."
"Yep!" Cat replied, grabbing her bag from the hold.
"So why...?"
Cat chuckled.
"When America first entered the war, Madame Yvette, the female head of the resistance, asked for the America national anthem. Nick, for a joke, told her it was Yankee Doodle." She smiled and shrugged. "It stuck."
Stepping forward, she walked up to René. The years had added grey to his hair, but apart from that he was still the same man she remembered, small, plump and balding. She stepped into his embrace, but kept her knife pushed up against his stomach. She was not going to be squeezed. There was an expression of shock.
"You couldn't have told me?" he muttered, kissing her cheek in greeting.
"Consider it pay back for '43" she replied.
They switched cheeks as she asked softly "the others?"
"Arrived yesterday." He frowned slightly. "Some people are punctual!"
"Don't blame me," she said, stepping back and out to do her piece. "C'est la guerre"
Switching back to English with barely a pause she continued. "Monsieur Martin, may I present Antony Stark, Director of SHIELD. Monsieur Stark, May I present Monsieur René Martin, Mayor of Nuvian."
Stark winced, at her flat refusal to use his title, but his face was plastered with his professional smile.
"Monsieur René. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I wish I could say the same." René muttered, but both smiled for the camera.
"Before we begin our tour of the museum, the councillors and I have prepared a meal. Shall we?" he held out his hand and led the way. Cat got a small smile, as she fell in line with Dum Dum. Suddenly he came to a stop.
"My god." He muttered. A woman was making her way through the crowds. Or possibly more accurately the crowds parted to let her pass. White hair hung almost to her waist. Eyes a pale blue. A sense of unearthliness about her.
"Madame Jeannette." Dum Dum muttered, shocked.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I can't believe it." Dum Dum declared for about the hundredth time.
"We're going to have to watch when we leave. That plant is looking distinctly tipsy." Cat observed, sipping from her own glass.
"Cat!"
"What? Why are you so surprised? If her husband couldn't kill her, I don't see why 65 years should have."
He shook his head again, gulping his beer.
"Have to hand it to René, he never skimps on food," she paused as a bell began tolling. The effect of this simple sound was incredible. Everyone in the room above the age of sixty frozen. Those below it looked merely confused.
"Sainte Stephen bell begins to toll, Lord have mercy on his soul." Cat said hoarsely. She appeared to pick up on the confusion on the faces of the avengers and Stark, for she continued.
"It's the Judas Bell. Left over from when Nuvian was a garrison town. It was rung to warn the town people of deserters, traitors, ect."
She paused, seeming to tense while she counted the strokes.
"Three times for a deserter. Five for a traitor taken alive." She swallowed. "Seven for an execution."
She turned to René.
"I thought it was agreed as part of the rebuilding not to fix that bell."
"It was." René muttered, his hands searching his pockets, though whether for heart medication or his rosary Cat couldn't tell. "And it was done. There's no rope to pull that bell. There's no way on the good lord's earth for anyone to ring it now."