Author's Notes: A bit more… drawn-out that I might have liked, but, what needs to be said, and all of that… And, if it seems like we're moving nowhere, fast, not to worry. I've made this journey before, and I still remember the co-ordinates.
Oh, and, as for the end of this chapter, I know it may seem rushed. But, keep in mind, a reason for everything, and everything for a reason.
Whiskey, Tony Stark had long-ago decided, was a miracle cure. Didn't really matter what ailed you, because, in the end, it was nothing that a couple of shots couldn't fix. Unlike a good bottle of scotch, best shared amongst friends (be they new, old, or potential), whiskey was a drink best served to one's self. And, preferably, kept that way.
Right about now, Tony was indulging himself in just a little bit of 'practice what you preach'. Four or five shots in - and, Pepper gloriously nowhere in his sights - the aptly referred-to Man of Iron spared a few, near-inebriated moments to reflect on the morning's events, and take stock of where things were headed.
Fact One: Pepper was pissed-off, which boded well for no one.
Fact Two: He was the primary reason why Pepper was so pissed off. Again. He sighed, and poured himself another shot.
Fact Three: He was almost out of whiskey. Fuck.
Fact Four: He was less than three months away from becoming a Father. Someone's Dad.
Fuck.
Okay. No more whiskey.
Giving the bottle a light shove out of his way, Tony folded his arms atop the bar, and dropped his head onto them. What in the world was he doing? Drunk as a skunk, and it wasn't even lunchtime, yet. Granted, food sounded like a great idea, but he wasn't about to hobble his haggard ass into the other room to fix himself anything. Oh, what, oh, what was a starving genius to do?
His mind gave a snap of the fingers. Pepper. She'd bring him something. He reached into his pocket, and produced his cell phone, flipping it open to dial-Ohhh, wait, now. He remembered Facts One and Two: Pepper was livid, because he had been stupid. Sighing, Tony closed his phone, tossing it onto the bar top, beside the whiskey bottle. What the hell was he thinking, anyway? He knew it was a stupid idea to go fighting in the workshop. Hell, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself - and, today, apparently, he was just so inclined - he knew better. He knew better than to just assume that Pepper would never have walked in on something stupid. He knew better than to start a fight. He knew better than to leave JARVIS on mute. After all, who else was there to alert him that Pepper had come by? Just that Agent.
Ah-ha! It wasn't his fault. JARVIS and the Agent should have told him. Damn traitors, the both of them. What good were either one of them, anyway, if all they did was keep their mouths shut? Apparently, he had no need for them. Period. It had a bright side, though. At least he was off the hook.
Grinning, he poured and swallowed a celebratory shot.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted, forcing that shot down a little harder than Tony would have liked. "You have an incoming call; Director Fury, and he informs me that it is urgent."
Tony rolled his eyes. When wasn't it urgent with these people?
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, pulling himself to his feet, somewhat awkwardly. "Put the bastard through."
"Up yours, too, Stark." Tony successfully held back a cringe at the sounds of Fury's voice. He would have to have another discussion with his answering service about how to hold a call. "This bastard comes bearing an order."
The genius snorted. "Unless it's for a large pepperoni pizza, I'm not interested, thanks."
"Stark, this is serious," Fury continued, short on patience he did not have, to begin with. "We've had a disturbance."
Another disturbance hardly should have surprised him. However, Tony suddenly found himself fighting to feign disinterest. "What is it, this time, then? Aliens? Cyborgs? Mutants?" he tried to quip. "We're really working ourselves up to a full house band, here."
On the other line, Fury sighed. "Are you drinking?"
"Nah, I stopped that, like… What? Thirty seconds ago, JARVIS?"
"If you are lucky, Sir," the A.I. seemed to deadpan. Well, then, screw him - it. Him? - too.
"All right, you listen up," the Director all but barked at him. "I'm going to send someone after you. You'd best be ready. You have five minutes." The call was disconnected, and Tony thunked his head down onto the counter top, groaning.
It was going to be a long day.
"JARVIS, order more whiskey."
"Right away, Sir." There was always an agreement, but never a follow-through. And, he was pretty sure he had never programmed JARVIS to deceive him with sarcasm. Right?
Five minutes. That left him with at least ten, judging by recent performances. Typically, Fury was nothing, if not punctual. But, with a slew of new Agents stepping up to the plate… There were bound to be kinks, he supposed. Best to get the jump on the kids. Taking a deep breath, Tony yanked his body into an upright position.
Just to gasp in pain, and hunch right back over. It seemed that he had hit his head a bit harder than he had originally suspected.
"Fuck," he cursed, under his breath. It wasn't bad enough he had to go make nice with the Boss, but, now, it seemed that he was destined to add headache to headache. That somehow always lead to migraine, which lead to more alcohol, a little bit of food, re-tasting his dinner…
…-Yup. It was time to swear of booze in the a.m. Again. A change of career might not hurt, either.
"Sir," JARVIS broke in, again. "There is-"
"JARVIS, one more fucking word out of you," Tony barked, "and, I will donate you to a monastery." He paused, and narrows his eyes. "Silent order."
Someone 'tsk'ed, softly, behind Tony. He would have turned around to see just who, but, what with the head, and all… "You'd probably die without JARVIS, and you still manage to treat him like dirt." So, it was Bruce, was it? Tony took in a deep breath, and slowly forced himself upright as the other man shifted subjects, not giving a chance for comment, defensive or otherwise. "Come on, Sunshine. Time to go."
Tony growled, softly. He knew, damn it, he knew. Where was the fire, exactly?
It took only a moment for him to get the beginnings of his answer, as the heat suddenly manifested itself in Bruce's tone. "How the hell drunk are you?" Tony cringed, a little, if only to escape the rise of his friend's voice. Why was everyone so angry with him, today, he wondered? "Damn it, Tony, we've got work to do! And, it's barely noon, yet!" Bruce placed his hands on his hips, and sighed. "All right, I'm sorry." He began picking up the empty bottles that surrounded his friend - whiskey, tequila, vodka, among others (not all from the same day, Tony would readily defend himself) - muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 'And, you're going to be allowed around children?' But, then again, who was to say, really? As had already been pointed out, Tony was soused.
Properly disposing of what was affectionately referred to as 'the evidence', Bruce sighed. "Okay, then. Where's the coffee?" He moved to the cupboard, grabbing a jar of instant brew, and a mug to fill with water. Tony took the opportunity to scrub his hands over his face. Wasn't it bed time, somewhere?
"Hey, has anybody seen Thor?" Steve asked, striding into the room. He was already in his Star-Spangled Mess, and Tony barely managed to suppress a snicker. "I just got a call, and-"
"Yeah, we know," Bruce cut in, a little sharper than was necessary. But, hell, it got the Old Man to stop talking (that voice was still like nails on the chalkboard of his brain), and, for that, alone, Tony could have kissed the good Doctor. You know, if he was so inclined in that direction. "Fury got hold of all of us, apparently."
Steve's shoulders slumped, his enthusiasm waning. "Oh… Well…" He cleared his throat, and looked at his two comrades. "Shall we go see to it, then?"
Setting a cup of steaming liquid in front of the resident invalid (not that it would ever be said aloud, but, it was a well-known fact, as it was), Bruce nodded. "Yeah, in a minute. If Tony can't sober up, at least a little bit, this is going to make for one heck of a meeting."
Tony glanced from one man to the other, Steve's expression seeming to ask "Are you fucking serious?", while Bruce's clearly answered with, "Oh, yeah. I know." How dare they, not-talking behind his back? With him right in front of them, no less! Well, no more of that! Making a shaky stand, the billionaire reached across the bar - Bruce slapping at his hands, thinking him to be going for another bottle - and grabbed his bracelets. Slapping them on, he grabbed his mug, and nodded toward the other two.
"Gentlemen," he forced out, in as sober a manner as he could possibly fake, "I do believe that we are expected."
And, not a moment to soon. Steve had barely been able to roll his eyes before the humming sounds of chopper blades reached their ears. This seemed to relieve Bruce, greatly, where Tony merely smirked. He had been right. Ten minutes, thirty-six seconds.
-o-o-
Silence reigned over the conference room for… Hell, they'd all lost count by that time. Each person was digesting the facts for his or herself, slowly mulling over the finer points and details of just what it could all mean for them.
As if it was that simple.
"Director," Bruce finally spoke up, "I'm sorry, but… What do you mean, there's been Tesseract activity?" He shifted his eyes to Thor, then. "You'd know if it went missing, right?"
A similar thought had just skipped its way through the Asgardian's mind. "Director, Doctor Banner is right. I would have been informed, immediately, if the Tesseract had been taken, again. It is under very close watch."
This was where Steve felt the need to jump in. "But, if they've detected it here on Earth, how else do you explain it?"
"Perhaps, I don't," was Thor's sharp reply. "Not all information gathered is correct."
Fury rolled his eye, skyward. Silence was golden, but the aftermath tended to suck. "Be that as it may, Gentlemen…" He looked around the room, one time, silently daring anyone to make a peep. He gave a second glance to Stark, who was, thankfully enough, still sipping away at what must have been his third cup of coffee. Small miracles. He might actually get through a single meeting, yet. "The fact of the matter is that Doctor Selvig picked up a signal. And, yes, it was here on our planet."
Thor raised an eyebrow. "Why are you still following the Tesseract?" It seemed suspicious, to say the least. Odin had the thing under lock and heavily-protected key. What use did it serve that Midgar keep tabs on it?
It was a question that Fury had been anticipating. He sighed, and nodded his head. "After the incident with your brother, we thought it would be a good idea… Just in case. What happens once can surely happen a second time." Thor instantly huffed with offense, and Fury raised a hand at him. "While I'm sure your people do all you can, our people prefer to be more cautious."
"Is there a location?" Natasha asked. She hated the idea of the boys continuing to bicker. Bickering wasted so much time, and re-directing the flow of the conversation was just so much easier.
Fury returned a thankful nod. "We're working on pin-pointing it, now."
"What's taking so long?" Tony piped up, at long-last. It really was too good to be true, after all.
The Director's eye squinted. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, you've known about this for, what? A full day, now?" Tony looked to Fury, then to Bruce. "You and I could have had it located, by now, you know." Bruce merely shrugged a shoulder, not wanting to start another argument, and Tony righted himself in his seat, once more. He glanced down at the bottom of his coffee cup, slowly moving the object in small circles, swirling the remnants of liquid inside. It seemed that he was done.
It was a golden opportunity for Fury to make Tony's day. He smirked. "All right, then, Stark. Why don't you make yourself useful, and go fix all our problems, then?" Tony looked up, mouth open to object, when Fury held up a finger to silence him. "You're the one with the complaints, and you're here, anyway."
Tony's grumbled protest was mild, before the billionaire nodded his head to Bruce. His fellow scientist acquiesced, following Tony out of the room without another word. As the door closed behind them, Fury let out a silent sigh of relief, and continued with his meeting.
With the clicking of the latch, however, Tony turned his eyes on Bruce. "You believe that shit?"
Silence followed them for several steps, Bruce choosing his words with great care. "I don't know," he replied, honestly. "While I wouldn't call the Director a liar-"
Tony scoffed. "I would."
Here, the Doctor stopped walking, staring at Tony with some measure of exasperation. "Think about it, Tony. Would Fury put up with an hour in your presence, just to put us on?"
Eyes narrowing at nothing, in thought, Tony nearly lost step as Bruce continued on, without him. He hop-stepped to catch up, settling back to his previous speed. "Touche," he admitted, at last.
Bruce simply smirked, stopping to open the proper door. It was time to prove someone correct.
-o-o-
Meanwhile, back at Stark Tower, Agent Cade was straightening up the sitting room while she awaited the return of the Avengers. With any luck, Clint - the only proper team member not included in the meeting at Headquarters - would be back from his mission, soon. Sitting alone in the Tower was a bit of a drag, but, orders were orders, and she was forced to obey them.
But, damn, her Kingdom for someone to talk to. Sure, JARVIS was great company, but, if someone was to come in and catch her chatting away with the (for lack of a better term) invisible caretaker, they'd lock her away, for sure.
Then again, it certainly beat talking to herself.
Just about to open her mouth, and engage in conversation, Mychelle was interrupted by the swishing of the elevator doors. Smiling, a bit, she stepped across the plush carpeting, taking her time. That was, until she heard the crash. It sounded as though something heavy had hit the floor.
"Agent Barton?" she called, hurrying toward the elevator. Rounding the corner, she took one look, and drew her weapon. "Freeze!" she yelled, somewhat unnecessarily. "Who the hell are you?!" Because, whoever it was, he wasn't Agent Barton. And, that left him about two steps from being sent to see his Maker.
From a tangled heap on the entryway floor, red-tinged eyes glanced upward, sharp teeth forming into a weak grin. "Good evening," a shaky voice forced. He seemed out of breath, sweat streaked across his pale forehead. "Who I am is of… very little consequence…" Shifting himself around, the man winced with every movement. He used the wall as support to stand, eyes flickering between the woman, and her weapon, which followed him the entire way. He let his head rest against the wall, and quietly began to gasp in a few breaths. "I was simply wondering if you might fetch me Thor?"
