"Seriously?"

Natasha has to bite back a smile for…damn, she doesn't even know how many times it's been. "Yes, Clint. Seriously."

"Time-traveler," Clint whistles. "And she's Thor's kid? Shit."

She nods, not feeling up to saying the lie aloud. Clint will figure it out soon anyway. Anna may share some features with Dr. Jane Foster, but she looks far too much like her real father for the ruse to last long. To be honest, Natasha's surprised Fury had missed the close resemblance, and she's pretty sure that aside from her, only Loki was aware of Anna's true origins—though that was probably because of some sort of magic mojo than actual brain-boggling deduction. The next to guess would probably be Dr. Banner—

"So what now?" Clint asks.

Natasha thought about it before jerking her head to the small washroom. "Now, you clean up," she says, "and then we grab the others, and we kick Thanos to the curb."

Clint paused after standing up. "We're not killing him?"

She purses her lips. "We can't," she admits. "Loki said that as a time-traveler, Anna's automatically immortal until we defeat Thanos. And it's true," she tacks on. "Coulson put a hole in Anna's chest, but Thanos still made her get up and walk away like it was a paper cut. Besides," she adds, "Thor believes that she's his daughter and practically threatened Fury into agreeing not to hurt her."

Another low whistle. "Fury doesn't get threatened easily," he comments, reaching for the door handle and pushing into the washroom.

"Yeah, well, when you're backed into a corner by a Norse god, you're pressured to say yes to anything he wants," she points out.

Clint huffs a laugh. "Least he had a choice," he says bitterly, turning the taps and slapping water against his face.

She bites the inside of her bottom lip as she realizes that yes, Fury did have a choice, and he chose the answer that would assuage Thor. But if Natasha knows him as well as she does, then Fury would be up to something—a backup plan in case the Initiative fails.

And as she eyes Clint's bent form, Natasha thinks knows who Fury's backup plan is.

"Stark." Roger's voice startles him, and Tony's lucky that the harmful end of his portable soldering iron doesn't make a flambé out of his fingers.

"Jesus, Cap!" he snaps, turning the fire to the side where nothing fleshy could be burned and switching it off. "You don't sneak up on a guy with a flame thrower near his hands!"

"Sorry," the captain says, actually sounding apologetic. "Look, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier on the bri—"

"Oh for love of—" Tony cuts himself off and drops the soldering iron on the table before refocusing on his stubborn helmet. "Forget about it."

"Forget about it?" Rogers echoes. "Look, I know you're upset about what I said back there—"

Tony snorts. "I can tell you right now and mean it too—I'm not upset about anything that came out of your mouth," he tells the man honestly as he peers at the exposed wiring. "There's nothing to forgive." Rogers falls quiet, so Tony goes back to fixing his headpiece, though he knows better than to think the conversation's over.

He's developed a sixth sense for shit like these, and Pepper had helped him fine-tune that skill for…close to ten years now. Wow. Has it really been that long since he met—

"I thought you'd be like him," Rogers suddenly says just as Tony's about to reattach the last plate and cover the wiring, breaking into his thought-process as well. It catches him off-guard, so Rogers very clearly sees how Tony freezes at the words. "That's why I was so…mad. At you."

Tony forces himself to recover with a quip. "Is that it?" he asks, keeping his eyes on his work and picking up the soldering iron once again. "Geez, you're not the only person I've disappointed, Cap. That's nothing—"

"I was disappointed," Rogers steamrolls right over Tony's ramblings, and Tony Stark finds himself clamping down on a pained sound. Because those words coming from Captain America? The hit was on the pain scale of holy-shit-I'm-gonna-cry, and with a clenched jaw, Tony turns on the soldering iron and goes back to work. He pretends that he's only half-listening to the captain when he continues to speak. "When I heard that I was going to finally meet you, I thought, 'This is my chance to have just a little piece of my past again.' I thought you could be this…this link to something familiar. I thought we could have the friendship that Howard and I had."

"So sorry to disappoint." Tony manages to not snarl the words out, though his hands clamp down tightly on the tools in his hands.

"Don't be," Rogers says firmly, and it startles Tony enough that he actually turns and looks at the other man, his hands automatically setting down his things. "It served me right, trying to bring the past with me. You were…a slap to the face." He shakes his head, smiling self-depreciatively. "Until I met you, I thought I was just dreaming, and every day I opened my eyes, I was waiting to wake up back in 1943. I locked myself into a routine so that I didn't have to look up and see that the world wasn't the one I knew so well. Everything's too…different, and the prospect of finally meeting you and thinking you'd be like Howard was a safety net I clung to. Realizing you were different too was the last straw. I got mad and I lashed out at you."

"That's ah," Tony clears his throat, pushing back the mix of emotions scrambling for his attention as he realizes that Rogers was being sincere about the whole 'I-want-to-apologize' shtick, "perfectly reasonable reaction to have."

"Maybe it is," Rogers shrugs, "but that doesn't make it okay. I had no right to judge you before even meeting you, and I have no right to be angry that you're not your father. You shouldn't be, anyway. Howard was Howard. Tony should be Tony."

Wow. Oh, wow. Tony's mind? Totally blown.

Wow.

"Yeah," Tony manages to say after a few seconds of disbelief. "Yeah, um. Okay. Thanks."

"I know it took me a while to realize how awful I was being towards you, but I think I've yanked my head out my ass now." Tony represses the urge to giggle at the sight and sound of Captain America saying 'ass.' Heh. "Anyway, that's what I'm sorry for, and I hope that you can forgive me for it. And that despite my mistakes, you'd still find it in you to let me be your friend."

Tony swallows thickly, unable to decide whether to cackle with maniacal glee or do a fan-girl squeal. "Yeah, we can do that," he says steadily, none of his insecurities making it into his voice, thank fuck.

Captain America smiles, clearly relieved. He holds out his hand. "I'm Steven Rogers, Mister Stark," he tells Tony. "Call me Steve."

Tony stares down at the outstretched hand, and something that felt suspiciously like giddiness blooms around his arc reactor. "Good to meet you, Steve," he replies, clasping his hand with Rog— Steve's. "Call me Tony."

"Knock, knock." Looking up, Tony sees Natashalie in the doorway, with another agent—presumably Barton—standing behind her. "If you boys are finished bonding," she says, "wheels up in ten. Thor and Loki are getting Banner back. They're going to meet us at the hangar."

Tony holds his helmet up. "Got my own ride," he tells her, and it comes out in a nicer tone than he normally directs at her. The jumbo-sized egg on her forehead might have something to do with it. "The cube still gonna be at my tower?" he asks her companion.

"That's what I hear, sir," Barton nods. Sir. Huh. Tony likes him already, even if he is looking a little too hyped up for Ton's liking.

"Sir," Jarvis's voice pipes up, and Tony swipes a finger along the phone resting on the table.

"What do you have for me, Jarvis?" he asks, though he already suspects that it's about—

"Your expected guest has arrived," Jarvis told him. "They are currently on the roof, along with Dr. Selvig and what seems to be a prototype reactor."

Tony thought as much. "Keep an eye on them for me, would you? We're on our way."

"Hang on," Rog— Steve speaks up, frowning at the two agents. "Have you two been cleared—?"

"No concussions or irreparable damage, Cap," she cuts him off, looking impatient now. "We're fine."

"Then I'll meet you there," Tony announces, picking up his soldering iron once more. "Oh," he tacks on, glancing at Barton. "Good to have you back."

Barton looks surprised, but his expression smoothes out soon after, leaving only the vaguest expression of gratitude. "Thank you, sir."

"Careful, Tony," Steve says, clapping a hand over his shoulder. "Your human side's peeking out."

Tony stifles a smile and pushes the happy feelings of belonging to the side. "Human side. Bitch, please," he snorts, firing up the soldering iron once more, "I'm Iron Man."

He doesn't quite forget the kiss. How could he forget the way the girl had touched him as if she were committing him to memory, the way it felt like a welcome and a goodbye at the same time? It had been the most intense encounter he'd ever had, and the guilt of it bore down on him each time he glances over at the woman beside him.

The memory of it is exacerbated when they reach the hangar. The moment Thor laid eyes on him, his smile is wiped off his face, replaced by a furious glower. It kind of emphasizes the fact that he'd kissed Thor's daughter, and that if the guy had any say in it, he'd be as flat as road-kill courtesy of Thor's fucking scary hammer.

He's busy trying not to shrink under Thor's angry glare when the voice comes through his comm. "Agent Barton, do not react." Obediently, Clint doesn't so much as twitch, even when the God of Thunder—the fucking God of fucking Thunder—hefts his hammer onto his shoulder while giving him a pointed stare. "This is Director Fury, code DFS-3Y3."

That pulls his focus away from Thor, because if the director was giving him what looks like secret orders, then it had to be pretty damn serious. He sneaks a glance at Natasha, who was welcoming Dr. Banner back, and as he suspected, her comm isn't blinking like his probably was, meaning it wasn't active.

And seriously, the Hulk was on the carrier. Whose genius idea was that?

"Barton," Fury says, pulling him back on topic. "We need to ensure that the portal doesn't open. And to do that, then the threat has to be neutralized."

Thanos. Clint's grip on his bow tightens, suddenly eager to carry the mission out. He owes that bastard an arrow to the eye socket—

"If you get the chance, take out the host," Fury orders, and Clint freezes, the sensation of a pair of lips on his ghosting against him.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck. How the fuck he was going to warn the others about this shit? He couldn't kill her.

And Jesus, but Fury might want to risk pissing off a mythological god, but Clint sure as fuck didn't, especially since the guy seems pissed at him already.

He glances at Natasha, trying to come up with a way to warn her that doesn't involve speaking or signing, because there are too many cameras around and too many witnesses to risk it. Not to mention the jet the director had put them on has a camera on its ceiling, so Fury would know the second Clint tries anything. And Clint doesn't want to risk his standing with SHIELD anymore than he already has.

Shit.

Shit.

"I know it sounds bad, Barton," Fury tacks on. "But best case scenario, Loki can use magic to bring her back. Without Thanos latched onto her."

Oh.

Oh, thank fuck. Clint relaxes, suddenly really grateful that Fury had some sort of plan to save both Thor's daughter and their standing with the alien gods.

"I'll say it again, agent," the director says, and Clint inhales, reassured that Fury at least still trusts him now that he isn't under mind-control, "take out the host. Scratch your right elbow if you copy."

Clint bends his arm and scratches it lightly.

"Good. Fury out."

When the curtain separating him from the rest of the infirmary whips back, Phil doesn't expect to see Tony Stark step through.

"Agent," he greets almost cheerfully. "How're you doing?"

"I was fine," Phil answers, "and then you showed up."

Stark snorts and laughs. "I was wrong," he says. "You're not an alien who didn't understand humor. I think I owe Pepper a pair of Louboutins now. Or was that a weekend in Paris?"

Phil clears his throat when the other man looks like he was actually thinking about the alleged bet. "What can I help you with, Mister Stark?"

In response, Stark holds up a slim laptop and an earpiece. "I took the liberty of hooking this into SHIELD's mainframes," he says, handing the items to Phil. "You can keep in touch with us and Fury won't even know you're there."

Understanding comes to him a few seconds later. "Is this about Miss Snow?" Phil clarifies, setting the warm laptop on his…well, on his lap, and tucking the comm into his ear.

"You could say that," Stark shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Phil is instantly suspicious. "What's going on, Mister Stark?"

Stark smiles charmingly, but his eyes are sharp and calculating. "I don't trust Fury," he says. "You know that. But I do trust you," he tacks on before Phil can say anything, and the words stump him into silence, "otherwise, I wouldn't have let you in on our little secret at all."

"I see," Phil manages to say after a few tries. Because Stark's trust is a Big Deal. After Afghanistan, and especially after Obadiah Stane, Tony Stark had developed trust-issues as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon. It was one of the reasons why he openly made his distrust for SHIELD's purpose known to everyone onboard and constantly did his best to irritate the director and show everyone else up with his great leaps in logic. "What exactly—?"

"I think Fury's up to something," Tony cuts him off, peering intently at him, "and I think he's going to involve Agent Barton."

That makes him straighten up, despite the brief burn of his thigh-wound, and pay the man all his attention. "How so?"

"I did the math," Stark shrugs. "Barton's new to the team, he's possibly the least informed of current events, and he's got a grudge—I got that much from my brief interaction with him. Not to mention he'll be out to prove that he's still a SHIELD agent. Fury's going to use that, but I don't know how."

"So you want me to be your behind-the-scenes guy," Phil concludes. "Find out what contingencies the director is willing to use."

"I want you to be our eyes and ears," Stark says firmly. "If the Avengers Initiative is going to work, then we need someone keeping two eyes on everything, and not only does Fury have one eye to spare, I also don't trust him."

"You realize that I am an agent of SHIELD," Phil points out.

Stark smiles that cool smile once more. "I realize that unlike Fury, you actually care about your agents." He reaches over and pulls the laptop open, revealing an image of Thanos's vessel pressed up against a mind-controlled Clint. Stark plays the video, letting Phil see and hear Anna's voice order Clint to kiss her, and how the blue from Anna's eyes turns brown just before Clint does as he's ordered. Anna seems to melt into the agent, and her relaxed stance indicates—

Phil swallows, taking in the love that was practically visible in how Anna touches Clint, and how Clint's aggressive motions softens unconsciously as the kiss went on.

Jesus.

"She knows him," Stark murmurs needlessly. "In the future? That's them. That's Barton and whoever Anna will be to him. A girlfriend, a fiancée, a wife… Well, it doesn't matter what she is to him, does it? They're it. And Fury's going to do something that could screw that up."

Phil presses the key to pause the video, unintentionally stopping it at the point when Clint stops kissing her and just stares down at Anna, whose eyes were in the middle of turning blue again. In that moment, the two clashed. Clint looks much too old for such a young thing like Anna, and she couldn't be more than twenty. There was almost a ten-year difference there, and it shows.

…but hell, who was he to judge? Maybe Stark's right—maybe Clint falls for this girl in the future. If that were so, then who cares what their age difference was if Clint was happy with her? If they were happy together?

His lips quirk up, and Phil looks toward Stark. "Fine," he sighs, giving in. "I'll be your behind-the-scenes guy."

"Eyes and ears, Agent," Stark corrects him, grinning triumphantly and already making his way to the curtains. "Or maybe our own personal Supernanny."

The possibly accurate analogy makes Phil close his eyes and groan. "I'm dead."

As Anna stares up at the tall old tree, two sentences cross her thoughts.

'Holy motherfucking shit,' and, 'This has to be Yggdrasil, the World Tree.'

Then, 'No, wait,' passes through her mind when she lets her eyes move off the huge tree to trace the length of an errant branch that isn't connected to Yggdrasil.

Her mind grinds to a halt as she takes in the view.

Anna has always been aware that the universe was vast and insurmountable. What she hadn't known was that it was—for all intents and purposes—a fucking forest.

Old as fuck trees rose high above the younger ones, but every tree seems separate from each other, as if they were spaced out to give room for the roots that snaked and coiled around each other. Anna could barely see the ground they were planted in—the roots were that long, that thick, and that twisted. The branches above were just as thick and far-reaching, and the leaves were a mix of dark and light colors, like the sky at dawn or twilight. And in between the leaves—hanging like fruits but shining almost like stars in the sky—were actual, spinning worlds.

That's when she realizes that every tree she could see? They were World Trees too.

Holy. Motherfucking. Shit.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a deep voice asks from behind her.

"Holy fuck me," she gasps and whirls around, startled, only to be stopped abruptly by the purple hand she hadn't even felt around her wrist. But it's not until the moment she sees Thanos standing there, all big and purple and armored, that she realizes she's alone in her own body again. And she'd known what he looked like thanks to the visions he gave her, but fuck if he wasn't larger now, with huge bulging muscles and thick appendages.

One of his thick fingers points to her chest, and she looks down to see the blue glow of the Tesseract seemingly embedded into her chest, just above her breasts and right where Coulson's gun had shot her. It reminds her of the arc reactor that had kept her father alive after his time in Afghanistan. "Take care not to let go of this," Thanos warns her, "lest we be stuck here for all eternity."

He doesn't wait for her reply, only letting out a rumbling, delighted laugh before pulling—or dragging, rather—her up along the root they're standing on. Anna has to double her pace in order to keep up, as well as not get a twisted ankle in the process.

"Where are you going?" she half-whines even as she glances around, taking in the majestic views she knows no one else had ever seen before.

"I think you know," the asshole sneers.

Anna takes a moment to think about it. "Without Loki, you lost access to your precious gauntlet," she reasons aloud, "so you're settling for a consolation prize."

He growls, the grip he has on her arm tightening until Anna's sure she'd gain a bruise. "There was never another prize," he spits out. "There's only one thing I wish for, and I shall have it."

…oh. Oh, son of a bitch. Thanos wants the gauntlet because it could manipulate reality. With it, he could turn himself into a god. The Tesseract couldn't do that for him because it was just a doorway that leads from one place to another, from Earth to Asgard or Earth to…here.

But why here? What could he possible hope to accomplish by coming here? Why not go directly to Asgard and go for the gauntlet?

Okay, the last part was easy enough to figure out. Anna may have been learning Loki's shit, but she couldn't do the magicks the god could, like suspend time or something cool. If Thanos still had Loki, he could just do that—or worse—to whoever got in his way and keep walking until he reaches the vault and got his hands on the gauntlet.

But again, why here? It's not like the bastard could manipulate reality from here—

"Motherfucker," she murmurs, stumbling as she realizes that yeah, he might be able to do just that, because they're in the forest of World Trees. And while Anna doesn't know if he would succeed, she knows that he would damn well try.

And fuck, but who knew what would happen if the sonovabitch got the chance? If he succeeded in changing reality?

"So now you see," Thanos says, never slowing his speed. Anna says nothing in return, but her mind is racing for a way to stop him from doing whatever he was about to do. And what she ends up doing is perhaps the most reckless and idiotic thing she's ever done.

Thanos was just about to reach a hand out to the middle of the tree's trunk when Anna launches past him and touches a hand to the rough bark first. Then she closes her eyes and—hoping she was doing it right—makes a wish.

Once again, her world dissolves into blue-white light.