"There is no such thing as magic," Tony repeated for the umpteenth time, as a contingent of the Avengers flew into Las Vegas.

"The bank was robbed in Paris while the Horsemen were performing in the MGM," Hill explained. "They either have amazing timing or they managed to open a portal of some sort."

Tony shook his head. "Are we sure the bank was actually robbed?"

"See for yourself." She motioned with her hand toward the holotable. Tony started typing furiously, pulling up article after article. "I guess it's legit," he reluctantly admitted after a moment.

"So what do you want us to do?" Steve asked, glancing up from the mission briefing Maria had distributed.

"I need you, Stark and Banner to ensure that there is no real magic at play here. Once you've done that, we can turn the case over to the FBI."

"How are we going to determine if magic was in fact used?"

Hill shrugged. "That's what you guys are here for."

The holotable beeped and Tony swiped right to accept the video call. "We're here in France," Banner stated as his face, which looked slightly green, appeared on the large screen. "Barton has no concept of the speed limit, which makes no sense in the sky, I know."

"Barton," Tony tsk-ed. "You know Brucie doesn't like flying."

"How else were we going to get here at the same time you were? In case you haven't checked lately, Paris is a lot farther away than Vegas."

The video bounced and Natasha's face sharpened into view. "I'm flying home, don't worry."

"We'll be touching down soon as well," the pilot of the Vegas quinjet called from the cockpit.

Steve stood up from his seat and leaned over the holotable. "Stay in touch Romanov. Let us know what you find."

Natasha nodded her agreement. "Keep Tony out of trouble," she said with a wicked grin.

Before Stark could fire back a snappy retort, the feed cut to black.

"Well she's not—" Before Steve could finish, the nose of the quinjet dipped slightly. In a burst of what could only be called superspeed, Steve had taken his seat and had the belt fasted snugly around his waist in under three seconds. As Tony walked more slowly toward the seat across the aisle, he noticed just how tightly Rogers' hands gripped the armrests and how rigidly he was sitting in his seat.

"It'll be fine, Cap," Tony muttered, changing his mind at the last minute and sitting next to his teammate. "Jones is one of the best pilots SHIELD has. I know—I checked him out this morning."

"Great," Steve snapped, his fingers leaving indents in the arm rests as the nose of the plane dipped sharply.

Tony balked, falling silent as he found himself in an incredibly unusual situation; after Afghanistan and more recently after flying a nuke into space, he was usually the one who had freaked out seemingly mundane things like standing water or pruning shears, but Pepper had always been by his side, guiding him through it, even when they weren't yet a couple. Now as he found himself watching Steve struggle with one of his demons, he realized he hadn't the slightest clue how to handle this. "Just breathe," he parroted numbly.

Steve shot him an incredulous look, which quickly disappeared as the plane dipped sharply and he screwed his eyes closed. "Breathe? Really?" he ground out, his face losing some of its already pale coloring.

"I'm adapting the stuff they make you say in Pepper's yoga classes," Tony continued, well aware that he had probably far overstepped his limits. "Lots of inhaling and exhaling. Picturing yourself on a cloud, being the captain of your fate, and all that jazz."

The plane ground to a stop against the tarmac and Steve clenched his fists so tightly that he crushed the armrests. As the propellers wound down, he slowly opened his eyes, focusing on the aisle so as to not make eye contact with Stark. He wasn't quick enough though to stop the inventor from seeing what looked like shame flit across his face.

When Jones had finally killed the engine, Hill stood and surveyed the crumpled armrests. "Only minor damage this time. You're getting better, Steve," she acknowledged with a small, placating smile.

Tony fixed the SHIELD agent with a scathing glare. "What do you mean better? You mean this happens all the time and haven't done anything about it yet?"

"I'm working on it," Steve snapped as he rose to his feet and did his best to straighten out the armrests. He quickly realized this was a losing battle, as the metal had been crushed beyond salvation, and straightened up. "Just forget about it, Stark," he muttered as he hurriedly walked toward the exit hatch.

Tony bristled as Steve reverted to using his last name, a tactic only employed when he wanted the inventor to leave well-enough alone. Tony exhaled through his teeth, but did as Cap asked, temporarily dropping the subject of Steve's fear of flying, or more appropriately, landing.


The two Avengers and Hill pushed passed the crowds covering almost every square inch of the MGM and made their way to the main auditorium, where they were let through the police tape after Hill flashed her assistant director's badge.

They walked quickly to the stage, where Tony lowered the briefcase he'd been carrying to the ground and clicked it open. The briefcase contained what looked like two parabolic mics, as well as a small rectangle with a propeller on one end. There was also a tablet strapped to the lid for viewing the data in the field. The equipment had been loaned to him by Jane Foster, who had taught both him and Bruce how to work it, and what to look for in the results.

"So how does this trick really work?" Steve asked, after taking a lap around the stage.

"None of the Horseman would say without a warrant," Hill said, still typing furiously on her tablet. "But we were contacted by someone named Thaddeus Bradley, who apparently debunks magic tricks for a living. He said this contraption just drops you through the floor." She pointed to the large vertical accordion on stage, with a thin transparent sheet connecting the top and bottom.

"Isn't this all pointing to a lot of 'not magic'?" Tony asked, standing the small rectangle on end in the middle of the stage. The propeller immediately began spinning and the green light in its base flashed wildly.

"Unless Bradley's in on it," Steve replied as he stepped closer to the prop that had "magicked" Étienne Forcier across the Atlantic. He pulled a set of gloves from the backpack he was carrying and carefully felt the base of the prop, his nimble fingers locating the release for the trapdoor, which swung open then closed in only a few seconds. "I'm going to check what's underneath. I assume that's the vault?"

Hill nodded.

Steve scanned the auditorium, spying a stairwell even further behind the stage. Before he headed in that direction though, he picked up one the parabolic devices from Dr. Foster's kit and, after ensuring that it was indeed charged, he disappeared into the stairwell, followed not long afterwards by Hill.

Tony then picked up the second "mic", clicked it on, and slowly spun it in a circle, holding it away from his body much like he would hold a handgun. After it had beeped three times, Tony walked over to the teleportation prop and ran the mic along all its supporting structures, focusing on the trapdoor and the underside of the top block. When the device had beeped in triplicate again, Tony walked back to his briefcase, plugged the parabolic into the tablet via the mini-HDMI cable hidden in its grip, and allowed the data to upload. The other piece of equipment fell silent not long after, so Tony brought it over to the briefcase and plugged it in when the parabolic had finished.

He waited while the data was collated, then unstrapped the tablet from the lid and examined the results. When he'd reached a conclusion, he forwarded his findings to Bruce, then dialed his colleague using the SpaceTime app.

"What do you think?" he asked, as soon as the physicist's face, much less green this time, appeared.

"I'm not seeing any residual energy," Bruce said, paging through the results on his own tablet. "It's only been a few hours since the actual event so we'd expect to see something in either location, granted in very low levels, if this was real."

"I agree. Anything on your end?"

"No. The vault is empty, as expected. Security footage shows no disturbances and my readings came up just as empty as yours." Tony's phone beeped and he clicked away from the video chat app to pull up his email and page through Bruce's results. Just as the physicist had said, there was no sign of any of the factors Dr. Foster associated with magic, extraterrestrial or otherwise.

"The bank is calling all its patrons with safety-deposit boxes to come inspect their belongings, but no one has reported anything else as missing yet. Clint and Natasha are still looking around, but I'd hazard a guess now that this was not a portal."

"That is great news," Maria Hill said from right behind Tony, startling him.

"Did you find anything downstairs?"

"An exact replica of the vault in Paris. The vault itself is fake, as are all the security-deposit boxes. It's just a room with one entrance/exit and a trapdoor in the ceiling." Steve handed the device to Tony, who quickly uploaded its data. Then Stark clicked back to the video chat and shared his screen with Banner as the results came up.

"Nothing," Bruce said, after a moment.

"I agree. A trifecta of nothing. No magic here," Tony reiterated.

"Excellent," Hill said. "Wheels up in five." At that moment, her Bluetooth chirped and she pressed her hand to her ear, her expression immediately sobering. "Yes, director," she began as she walked away.

Their part in this case officially completed, Tony knelt down and began securing the rectangular device and the two mics inside the briefcase. Jane's overeager intern Darby…Delancy…something like that, had threatened to tase him within an inch of his life if he ruined any of them. Normally threats like that wouldn't bother him, but Thor had chimed in with the tale of how he'd met the feisty intern. In the end, Tony had decided not to piss off the intern, so they would be in good standing if (or when, at this rate) another situation like this arose.

As he shut down the tablet and strapped it into the case, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. He waited for Steve's normally prompt greetings of the fellow law enforcement agents, but his teammate didn't speak until the footsteps were practically on stage.

"Hello," he finally heard the soldier say, a beat later. "I'm—"

"I know who you are, Captain." At the sound of the very familiar voice, Tony looked over his shoulder to see a familiar mass of dark-hair. His curiosity now piqued, he snapped closed the briefcase then turned fully to see the new arrival. He too was shocked into silence by the familiar face staring back at him.

"Tell me what you have," the man demanded brusquely, walking past them and examining the teleportation device for himself.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Steve questioned, doing his best to keep his tone polite and friendly, though his micro expressions were anything but.

"Dylan Rhodes, FBI," the man said, craning his neck to look at the top of the prop. When Steve didn't immediately elaborate on their findings, Rhodes sighed and pulled out his badge, flashing it at them. "No offense, Cap, but I don't have all day. Did you find anything—"

He was cut off as Tony, whose brain had finally shifted into a working gear. He'd quickly closed the distance between himself and the FBI agent, and gripped the agent's cheek between his thumb and forefinger, jiggling it much as an elderly woman would do to a young child. He was watching for any indication that this was a mask, or that the man in front of him was a hologram, not unlike the ones Loki had been known for.

"Stark!" Steve shouted, pulling his teammate back. "I am sorry about that," he apologized to Rhodes, who looked even more cross than he had when he first walked in. Though the man's face and build were familiar, both teammates were realizing that the expressions were all wrong: Rhodes looked permanently annoyed, his lips pursed into a thin line and anger and frustration radiating from his every move. Banner's posture was always more relaxed, more curves than angles, and his expression was more absent than harsh.

"You look very similar to one of our acquaintances," Stark explained, freeing himself from Steve's iron grip. Though he probably hadn't needed to say anything, he was careful to keep Bruce's name out of the conversation. General Ross had been rather quiet these days, but Bruce's identity and current location still needed to be handled with the utmost secrecy. "Given some of the crazy things I've seen lately, you'll forgive me if I had to check for myself."

To his credit, Rhodes snorted and shook his head, his expression softening for the first time since he'd walked in. "I can't imagine what your line of work is like." Just as quickly as the almost human expression had appeared though, it left, replaced by flinty eyes and a permanent look of displeasure. He looked back to the teleportation device and slowly practically barked, "Don't worry, Captain. I won't press charges. I would like to know what you found though."

"Nothing," Tony said, matching the man's gruff tone. "The case is all yours, detective." And if he wasn't mistaken, Rhodes actually looked disappointed.

"Okay," the man sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Get the squints in here. I'm going to go interview the Horsemen." He said the last word with a grimace. "If that's everything gentlemen…" Rhodes didn't finish his sentence and instead motioned toward the door, obviously hoping they'd understood his underlying message.

"Of course, detective," Steve responded curtly. They quickly packed up the case and walked out of the auditorium, but not before Tony had snapped a picture of Rhodes and sent it to Bruce.

Hill was already sitting in the quinjet, browsing yet another file on her tablet. As soon as Tony and Steve were aboard, Jones immediately fired up the quinjet's propellers and they had lifted off within minutes.

Tony kept shooting Steve side-long glances during the takeoff, but the soldier just leaned his head back, his face free of any worry lines and his hands resting loosely in his lap. As much as Tony didn't want to disturb him, there was something he had been wanted to say to Steve, ever since he'd found out about the whole landing situation, and he needed to get it out into the open before he changed his mind.

"You know, if you ever want to talk about this," Tony quickly began, drumming his fingers against the crunched armrest. "I can give you a few names. Or you can talk to me—but I'd seriously be doubting your life choices that point. If that's really the path you want to take, though, I promise to listen to you past the elevator in Bern." Steve opened his eyes and rolled his head to the right to look directly at Stark, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in perceived confusion. "Or if you want to try for desensitization, I know a guy who will practice touch-and-gos until he's blue in the face for Captain America," Tony continued in a rush.

Steve's mouth twisted into a close approximation of a smile. "Thanks, Tony. But I'm gonna see if I can get through it on my own."

Tony shook his head. "Noble, Cap, but this isn't like the 40s. It's okay to ask for help."

"I know." This time Steve's smile was small but genuine.

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Rogers reached for a gossip magazine someone had left in the seatback pocket and Tony hurried to pull out his laptop to investigate the life of one Dylan Rhodes.

About ten minutes later, Stark's phone buzzed.

"Who is he?" Bruce asked, cutting right to the chase, the second Tony picked up.

"An FBI agent. He's real, before you ask. I have a full work-up going back to his baby pictures."

"That is…unexpected."

"Unexpected, yes, but also kinda cool. We've met Cap's doppelganger, and now yours. Do you think there's a bonafide, not-surgically-altered Tony Stark look-alike out there?"

"For the world's sake, I hope not," Bruce deadpanned.

"Hurtful, Brucie. Hurtful. I'll have JARVIS keep an eye on him, make sure he's on the up-and-up, but everything so far seems legit."

"Thanks Tony."

"There's a lot of that going around lately," Hill commented from the back of the plane. Before Tony could shoot back a response, she had accepted yet another phone call, this time with the Council.

"Anytime Bruce," the inventor said, turning back to the call. Bruce nodded gratefully, relief visible on his face as he ended the call.

A few seconds later, Steve snapped the magazine shut and shoved it back in the seat pocket, almost tearing the soft cover in the process. "Not all things are better in the future," he commented as he scrubbed at his eyes.

Tony just grinned, waiting until Steve had opened the book Maria had tossed him, before he going back to learning everything he could about the new Rhodey in his life.


Sorry about the wait. The next chapter, Carl Casper and Molly from Chef, will be up much more quickly!