The Lion-Hearted
Search and rescue is a nasty job at the best of times. In the aftermath of a battle, it's particularly horrible. But it needs to be done, and there's no other human-dæmon pair so uniquely qualified for it – a bird dæmon that can fly so far from her without pain, and a woman with military training.
The geneticists have studied her, but so far as anyone can tell, Maria will live a normal life, with a slightly extraordinary dæmon, and die ordinary. It happens, occasionally, when the son-lines of witches cross and a girl is born a little different, but not so much that she's a throwback to her grandmother and great-grandmothers' line.
"Too dark, too close, too strange," is Isthus' pronouncement as he flies back to her along the twisting, tunnelling corridor of the alien ship. "But none of ours. Just them."
"The sabotage team wouldn't have gotten this far," Maria murmurs, keeping her voice low in case there's still something here. "They only had to destroy the drives."
The clack of Isthus' beak is like a snort. "'Only'? With Captain Rogers leading the insertion team?"
"True." Maria exhales. "And something brought the ship down in the middle of the desert instead of in LA. It's the sort of thing he'd do."
"You still don't like him."
"He's a hero," she replies dryly. "You know how I feel about that."
"About heroes, or about him?"
She twitches the shoulder he's sitting on. "Go look for more of our people and stop making trouble!"
His caw is laughter as he soars away along the dimly lit corridor, and Maria grimaces as she shines the flashlight down one of the dark side corridors and taps her earpiece to initiate contact with the S&R head. "Sitwell?"
"Copy you, Hill. Found anything?"
"None of ours."
The exhalation is brief. "Same reports coming in from all over. No sign of them, no sign of their dæmons… Jesus, Hill, is it possible we lost the whole insertion team?"
Distantly down the corridor, there's the sound of something shifting, moving… "Sitwell. I've got something. Stand by…" She shines the flashlight down the long dark corridor that twists and turns like something writhed along it in its creation, trying to ignore the way her neck crawls at the sound.
There's a spark and a sizzle, and then an anguished yowl. Maria catches her breath, then she's moving off down the corridor. "Saavi?"
"Lieutenant?" The smooth, feline voice sounds surprised – and edged.
"Sitwell, I've found Rogers' dæmon. Triangulate me."
"Triangulating… Yeah, we got you. I'm sending two others your way – Simmons and Huang."
"Copy that."
Maria sets her headset to transmit without broadcasting her every word, and heads off down the corridor to where a cluster of trailing cordlike things swing in a curtain across the tunnel. On the other side of the curtain, Saavi paces, her tail thrashing in urgency. "His leg is broken and I can't get past these – they bit me…"
"Okay," Maria says. "It's okay. Give me a moment." The last thing she needs is a distressed dæmon on her hands as she tries to think things through. The 'wires' – at least, she presumes they're wires - run up to the ceiling then vanish into the body of the alien ship above them, and she has no idea where they go or what they do or how to stop them transmitting whatever energy it is that kept this ship flying.
"Fine," she says, softly, more to herself than to Saavi. "We'll do this the experimental way."
And she shucks her jacket, sticks her hands back through the arms, and, careful to keep her head away from the trailing cords, moves forward to gather them up, hoping they don't shock her into insensibility.
"The famous Captain America?" Isthus murmurs in her ear as the search for Loki commences.
"Apparently," Maria murmurs back, her gaze following the computer composite coming together along the side of the control room. "Along with the extremely dangerous Dr. Banner." She still can't believe Fury brought Banner on the helicarrier. That's a lot of faith in the man's control – especially given what happened the last time the man was in the US. "Did you find the breach?"
"Weakness," he says. "Not yet a breach. G-435-A. Something damaged a panel while we were in the water. Just a crack."
Maria cross-checks the sensor readings for compartment G-435-A. "The Compartment sealed off before we took to air." It's not a problem now, but she records it nevertheless, setting it to one of the maintenance logs. It's a minor repair, but something to be looked into later. On a craft this size – especially one that flies – small issues can turn into big ones very easily.
Over by the computer banks, it seems they've located Loki somewhere in Europe and are getting ready to 'suit up'.
He doesn't glance at her as he passes, but his dæmon does – the tawny eyes narrowing as she pads past on near-silent feet. The legend claims she used to be a mere kitten before Rogers became what he is, but Coulson says Rogers' dæmon was always a lioness – and how Erskine knew the man was worthy to take the serum.
The flashlight flickers out just past the second turn, leaving Maria and Saavi in absolute darkness.
"Well," she says grimly, "this is good."
Something brushes her leg and a moment later, she flinches as a furred head butts her hand. She jerks back, catching her heel and falling against the side of the tunnel.
"I left a trail," Saavi says. "I can lead us both."
"I can't see."
There's a pause, then, "You must rest your hand on my neck."
"I…" can't do that. The words freeze on Maria's tongue. Touching another person's dæmon is taboo, yes, but Steve did it for Isthus when he was in need. Doesn't she owe him this?
She swallows, moistening her dry mouth, and stands up, one hand groping into the darkness before soft, warm pelt sleeks down under her fingers. It takes all her self-control not to jerk back from the contact, but she tells herself to get a grip – and digs her fingers gently into the lioness' hide as the creature sidles up against her leg.
"Stay with me," Saavi says, calmer than any dæmon has a right to be when being manhandled by another person. Then she begins to move, and Maria moves with her, pacing the giant cat and trying not to trip over her own feet, the uneven floor of the tunnel, or the dæmon.
"What happened?" She asks the question more to break the silence than to really know. After all, she could ask for the report from Rogers once she finds him, and dæmons don't usually talk to other people. But the darkness is pressing all around her and she needs something to take her mind off the thought that the velvet-soft pelt under her fingers is Captain America's dæmon.
"We brought the ship down."
"Other than that. The sabotage worked, but how did you get it to crash in the desert?"
"They boosted the power," Saavi says after a moment, as though she had to think of the answer. Maria nods to herself, thinking it explains the power burnout through the alien ship. "I don't know how. Steve thought it would be better to bring it down further out if we couldn't before the city. And he was concerned about making waves."
"A tsunami," Maria murmurs, moving through the twists and turns of darkness, the velvety warmth of the dæmon guiding her. "Good thinking."
There's a faint lessening of the absolute blackness ahead of them. It grows slowly into a faint glow, and then a bright light halfway along the corridor, where Rogers sits in the pool of light cast by his flashlight, his shield by his side, his jaw set, his hands pressing against his thigh.
"Saavi?"
"I've brought the Lieutenant," she calls as they make their way down the corridor towards him.
"Sorry to make you come all this way to rescue me," he says, his voice tight with pain, but with an edge of something like relief.
"Sorry to—" Abruptly, Maria realises she still has her hand in Saavi's pelt in spite of having enough light to see by. She jerks her hand away from the dæmon's back, and meets Rogers' eyes at the same time. "Sorry to take so long to get here," she says, carefully even and without even a hint of the discomposure she feels. "What happened to you?"
"I think I cracked it when we came down," he says tightly, indicating his leg as she kneels down beside him. "Have you found the others?"
"They're still alive?"
"I left them alive but we came down so hard—we missed the city, right?"
"Yeah," she slings the pack around and rummages for a shot of painkiller. "You did good."
His mouth twitches. "High praise, coming from you."
Maria rears back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Easy, Lieutenant. Only that you set high standards. If I meet yours… It's a compliment."
"Sorry," she mutters, feeling her ears heat a little. Then, "This is going to sting."
He makes a noise like a laugh. "Penicillin." At her querying glance he shrugs. "Erskine said it to me when—During the—It's nothing."
Not quite nothing. But very definitely private.
Maria doesn't ask. Instead she injects him and sets about splinting the leg so they can get him out of here – and ignoring his closeness. Although she doesn't quite know how they're going to do that since the way back out is long and twisty and not really suitable for a man with a broken leg.
He hisses once, when she's trying to bind the leg to the extendable splint in her aid pack. "Sorry," he says, although Maria's not sure if the apology is to her or Saavi, since he has his hand fisted in the folds of his dæmon's hide and that has to hurt – even a little.
"Saavi said you boosted the power – did you do that?" Maria eases the strap under his thigh again, then over and clip and tighten.
"No," he breathes. "Arvad. He's getting…good with alien systems."
"He's getting way too much practise."
"We need to…go easy on the…alien invasions."
"I wish we could," Maria exhales. "It's not perfect, but it'll do for a field dressing."
There's a caw and a rustle of feathers and Isthus swoops in. "Cavalry's coming." His weight is comforting on her shoulder as she instinctively turns so he can rub the side of his beak along her cheek. Her own piece of soul, no matter how far he flies.
When she looks back, Rogers and Saavi are watching them with the same unblinking gaze.
She finally gets some sleep nearly a day later, the downtime enforced by Fury who tells her she'll be no use to them if she kills herself from fatigue. Alieta makes shooing motions at them with her paws, her gestures putting Maria in mind of nothing so much as a fussy mother, then snaps her teeth at Isthus when he tries to peck at her.
Maria shucks her boots and socks but doesn't bother with her jumpsuit, crawls into the bed and is sacked out before Isthus has even settled himself on his perch.
Hours later, she jerks awake, hot and damp in the too-confining suit. And tells herself the vague memory of the softness of Saavi's pelt under her palm is no excuse for dreaming of Rogers' hair sliding silky through her fingers.
- fin -
NOTES: Leese3973 asked for a guide as to whose dæmon is what. In my head it runs somewhat like this: Maria - Isthus (crow), Steve - Saavi (lion), Clint - Aerin (hawk), Natasha - Barin (spider), Stark - Velys (wolf), Banner - Damira (chameleon/elephant), Fury - Alieta (gorilla), Coulson - Piara (polecat). They're all opposite-gender, fairly standard dæmons. Maria and Isthus are unusual in that they can be separated by up to hundreds of miles before the connection between then begins to hurt and it's generally attributed to her grandmother and great-grandmother, both of whom were witches (like Serafina Pekkala). It's not unknown for such genetic oddities to turn up when the son-lines of witches are crossbred, but it's not very common either.
I'm working on another four sections to this story, but I don't know when or even if they'll ever get done.
Thanks for reading!