Title: Temporal Quandary (4/11+epilogue)
Pairing: Staine
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: "Let's just call them Klingons."
Disclaimers/Warnings: No infringement intended. Technical inaccuracies may be present.
A/N: Ooh, ooh! Look up the alien names. I dare you. :o)
...
"The code's uploaded," Tony informed the young woman seated beside him. "Just enter these parameters and start scanning. Keep the frequency oscillating between 450 and 600."
"Yes, sir," the woman said.
Tony straightened and looked at Fury. "I like her."
Fury gave him an unimpressed look before asking the room at large, "Any sign of Thor?"
A chorus of 'negative' and 'no, sir' responded, and Fury strode back to the conference table where Clint and Natasha were seated, reviewing the video footage on tablets.
"That boy's got guts, doesn't he?" Natasha noted. Clint agreed with a subtle nod.
"That boy," Fury emphasized, "likes to get into trouble."
"Cut him some slack, 007," Tony cut in. "How long would it have taken to notice they were gone if he hadn't messaged us?"
"He could have done that from Stark Tower. No need to be a hero," Fury argued.
"His boyfriend is the 'great American hero,'" Natasha pointed out.
"And I'd like to remind you that Pepper might not be here without him," Tony stated.
Fury looked between Tony and Natasha before sighing and turning back to the monitors at his station. The bright blue sky and midday sun illuminated the entire bridge as they hovered several miles above Stark Tower.
"You like him," Natasha teased.
"I admit nothing," Tony replied with a wave of his hand. He tapped the comm in his ear. "Jarvis, you got anything yet?"
"While the recalibrated sensors allow us to visualize the intruders, I am unable to determine the exact nature of their weapons or the invisibility shield in use. Miss. Potts and I are still investigating."
"Send up what you have," Tony instructed, picking up another tablet from the table and tapping it impatiently.
"Yes, sir."
"I've got something," an officer called out.
Before Fury could call up the information on his screens, a thud echoed above them. Muffled footfalls sounded, and then a series of three knocks.
"Someone get the door," Fury ordered with a shake of his head. Agent Hill spoke quietly into her comm, ordering security to the forward hatch.
...
The alarm continued, the klaxons shrill as the muffled chaos of the ship sounded both near and far. Blaine kept looking at Steve-at the sweat now covering his forehead and chest, and how he still had not steadied his breathing. Steve's skin was still cool and clammy under his fingers, and his entire body shivered.
"Is this how you were before?" Bruce asked somberly, voice quiet. Steve gave a shaky nod, and coughed weakly.
Jarred out of his stupor, Blaine whispered, "Before what?"
"Before the serum," Bruce supplied.
Blaine looked between Steve and Bruce, comprehension dawning. Steve offered him a bracing smile, though his lips trembled with the effort.
Blaine retrieved the extra pair of scrubs he had stashed in his bag and helped Steve put the shirt on. He sat down and tugged Steve to him. Steve moved sluggishly and unsteadily, but he tucked his head to Blaine's shoulder and gripped Blaine's cardigan as they settled. His breathing came out in warm puffs against Blaine's neck.
Bruce took a deep breath and said, "I thought it was just me." He looked at Blaine, and at Steve, who lifted his head enough to look at him. "The Hulk's gone."
Blaine started at a particularly loud thud, eyes jumping to the piled crates around them. Steve tensed, his breath wheezing out of him. He looked back at Bruce and tightened his arm around Steve.
"We'll get out of here," Blaine asserted.
Bruce smiled grimly, but nodded.
"Well, we can't wait around indefinitely," Bruce reasoned. "I'd like to see if I can access the ship's computer. Find out where we are."
"Back to the medical room?" Blaine asked.
"No," Steve rasped out. "Too risky."
"There's a screen by the door," Blaine offered. "Maybe that can tell us something?"
"It's worth a try," Bruce said, already standing.
Just then, the door slid open. No longer muffled by the door, the klaxons pierced loudly into the room. Bruce caught sight of two weapons held ready before he ducked back down, meeting Blaine's wide eyes.
...
"I have heard of this species," Thor said as he looked up from Natasha's tablet.
"Who are they?" Fury inquired.
"Their name unpronounceable in your rudimentary language."
"Why don't you give us a try?" Tony commented impatiently.
"They are DenIbya'ngan Qatlh from the planet baghneQ bIreQtagh."
"Okay," Tony spoke up after a moment of silence, "let's just call them Klingons." When expressions remained blank, he went on, "No one got that? Where the hell have you all been?" He looked around again. "Oh right."
"Tell us everything you know," Fury said, pointing at the chair next to Thor. They all sat down at the conference table.
...
Steve tried to stand, but Bruce stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. They shared a look as the aliens slowly entered. The door slid shut. Blaine held his breath. Steve tried to even out his breathing and stifle the wheezing. Tense moments passed as the aliens remained, likely surveying the room. The footfalls started again, but to Blaine's dismay, they came closer.
Bruce, still crouched, carefully made his way further behind the crates. He peered out between two, catching site of the aliens. He stood, bracing himself against the wall and setting his hands on a crate. He peered between the crates again.
Blaine caught on and slid out from under and around Steve, silencing his protest with a fleeting kiss to his temple. Blaine positioned himself next to Bruce, palms against another crate, and waited.
The aliens showed no signs of leaving. In fact, one began slowly rounding the pile of crates. Before he could get very far, Bruce pushed hard, toppling the three piled crates onto the alien. Blaine followed, knocking his own mound onto the other and ducking behind the remaining upright one.
Bruce stumbled out from behind the wreckage and grabbed for the weapon that had skittered to the floor. He turned it on the downed aliens, busy pushing the crates off themselves, and spared a glance down at it. Aiming and pressing the only button he could find, the staff emitted a blast of light. It left a charred dent on the nearest alien's armor and elicited an angry cry. The alien struggled upright and Bruce fired again. With another cry, the alien cradled his arm and lurched forward to his knees. Bruce shot him again, this time hitting him in the head. The alien fell to the floor.
Blaine jumped out from his hiding place, distracting the other alien from returning fire on Bruce. Before Blaine could worry about being shot, Bruce fired again. The alien, having turned to Blaine, swung back around, only to receive a direct hit from Bruce. The alien staggered, dropped his weapon, and collapsed.
...
The breath rattled out of Blaine when the aliens lay on the floor unmoving. Bruce lowered the staff weapon, shoulders slumping. Steve struggled to standing, leaning against the wall, and surveyed the room.
"Glad to see some of my training is taking," Steve remarked, breathing still shaky.
"Wish I could say the same for you," Bruce quipped back. Steve's lips quirked up for a moment.
"Why don't you try the screen," Blaine suggested. Bruce nodded.
"We'll clean up," Steve offered. Blaine looked at him skeptically, but set about hauling the crates back into their stacks with Steve. The alarms still rang.
...
"Got something," Bruce called out, eyes still on the screen. Steve was sitting, hunched, on one of the crates, staff held on his lap as he again fought to breathe normally. Blaine came back out from behind the crates, having dragged the large aliens there to conceal them in case someone else entered the room.
"What?" Blaine prompted, stopping at Steve's side.
"I've got the ship's schematics and sensor readings. I think we're in low orbit over Earth."
"That's good, right? We're still close to home?" Blaine asked hopefully.
"Not exactly," Bruce murmured, tapping at the screen as images and alien symbols appeared.
"We find a shuttle," Steve suggested.
"That's the 'not exactly' part," Bruce said, looking back at them. "I don't think this ship has any shuttles, or small aircraft of any kind."
"So, how can we get off the ship?" Blaine asked.
Silence met his question.