21.
Leaving (Not On A Jet Plane)
Bruce fiddled with his tie. It hung in wild tatters, the silk threads loose and frayed. His collar hung askew, his shirt ripped and bloodied. He looked as his shoe-only one, the other discarded-with genuine regret. The upper was separated from the sole in several places, his foot, barely covered by a shredded cashmere sock, visible through it. Not that he could see so well through the swelling around his eye. And of course even with a good shoe, he'd limp, now.
Miles of desert spooled out behind the Jeep, miles more ahead. He could be on the back of the moon. He could be on Mars. He sipped a bottled water and kept looking for signs of life.
"So. Guess we're about five miles away now." Fury said, opposite him. "In another hour, give or take, you'll be out of my life permanently." He seemed vastly pleased at the idea.
"You never know," said Bruce. "I could come back as someone else." He kept his gaze out the window. He was still tired, and also afraid. Mostly he wanted it to be over.
Fury frowned, tipped his head at Bruce as if asking him to repeat it, and then caught himself. He was still a little hard of hearing, but it would fade, and he was too proud to admit weakness. He'd been in the van that tore open, unlike Bruce, who'd been two vehicles behind him.
"I'm going to get Strange to make sureyou don't come back." He laced his lands across his stomach and smiled up at the sun.
"Sorry I ruined your life, then," he said, with the form of anger but without any real heat. "I didn't ask for all this." He paused. "I'd still like to go hand-to-hand with you again. You'd be great to train with. I'm pretty sure it'd take me longer to pin you if we started on equal footing." He kept his face bland and savored Fury's angry glare. Things were coming to an end, anyway; what did it matter if he pissed the guy off now?
His real regret was not seeing Tony again. But things were what they were.
Eventually they slowed, turned off the highway, still surrounded by sere wilderness. A faint trail meandered along and they followed it carefully. Fury's driver took his time, taking care not to be seen. There would even be, Bruce had overheard, a carefully orchestrated broadcast delay from any satellite monitoring this stretch of desert, so that their actions could be caught and deleted from the record.
"Faked signal jam," he told one of his men. "Of course nobody else knows, so they have to assume there's something wrong with the satellite, run a diagnostic, it takes at least seven million of the military's budget to even think about it. Any private companies we can bribe, make any leaked reports sound like something only tinhats would buy. And all that to keep what we're doing to Mr. Wayne out of the public eye, because they'd never stand for it if they knew." He flicked a disdainful glance at his ragged passenger.
One chance, Bruce knew. They had probably once chance to do the job to him correctly. He had no idea what kind of pain and suffering would be involved if they screwed up. He contented himself with hoping it'd be over quickly.
They crested a hill and there, below, waited a small military envoy circled around an empty spot, a black limousine off to the side. Fury's men drove down and parked at the edge. Bruce was taken by two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, one at each arm, and firmly marched behind Fury to the envoy's center. As if he'd run. As if, for that matter, he had anywhere else to go, now that everything was finished.
"We've got him," called Fury. "Let's make this quick and painless, shall we?"
"Let's," said Bruce under his breath. His sleeve fluttered in the hot breeze. The agent to his right walked behind him and gave him a little push. Bruce staggered a little and then limped forward.
"Sorry about the bruises," said Fury, looking not the least sorry at all. "We had to distress you to make it look good."
"You didn't have to jump me," said Bruce.
"Well, three of my best agents are going to be in physical therapy for about six months, if that makes you feel any better. Hello, Doctor," he said, turning to the limousine. Doctor Strange climbed out, with Wanda sliding along after him. He was in his usual mystical regalia and she had donned some sort of red leather getup with a headdress. They looked surreal in this setting, but then, they'd look surreal anywhere.
Doctor Strange nodded to Fury and focused sharply on Bruce, a mathematician taking in a complicated, unsolved equation. Wanda smiled, tentatively, sympathetically. She was clearly glad to not be in his shoes.
"Get rid of him," said Fury, simply. "Get rid of him so I can go home and clean up the remnants of this whole mess."
The Doctor and Wanda nodded, then started to stretch their hands in Bruce's direction, concentrating their energies on him. They looked both cartoonish and menacing. Had they made similar gestures when they drew him into this world, before he'd ever met them? Something else he didn't know and now never would.
"I'm sorry to have to do this," said the Doctor quietly, as he began to shape something in the air with his hands. "I'll try to make your final moments here as peaceful as possible."
"Hold on a minute," said a weak but determined voice from the back of the limo, and after a minute, someone in a dark suit slowly unfolded at the door and the straightened up with the aid of a cane. Tony smiled at him. "What, no kiss goodbye?"
Bruce grinned wildly around the lump in his jaw. "I thought we were breaking up," he said.
Fury rolled his eye. "I thought you were still recovering at home," he said to Tony. "And we'd like to get the whole door-to-another-universe thing off the ground, if it doesn't inconvenience either of you too much."
When the explosion happened, Bruce's tenuous hold of his surroundings suddenly snapped back. The EMTs around him shouted and pressed to look out the windows as their ambulance screeched sideways to a halt. Something-a car, it turned out, driven by a man out for late-night ice cream who would be detained and debriefed for hours after-crunched into their side and a horn started blaring nonstop.
Bruce sprang up and wrenched the back door open, jumping out before anyone could grab him. He looked up, but he didn't have to look hard.
Arcing across the sky was a ball of pure white light. A scream, or something very like one, trailed after it. It streaked off its trajectory and tore around the sky, hurtling so low that more than once everyone ducked. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents ran to and fro, securing perimeters-a useless gesture, given that what they needed to contain most was airborne-and Bruce saw the ambulance up ahead that carried Tony's body.
The roof was tortured back into an elaborate metal flower, as if punched from within by a giant fist. Smoke rose from it, and the lone EMT who had guarded Tony was pulled out, limp and streaked with first-degree burn marks. Another EMT popped open a tube of salve and started applying it on him. The gurney was hot slivers of metal, melting into the vehicle's floor. The driver was walking outside in dazed circles, saying in an almost casual but very faint voice, "I tried really hard, you know, not to freak out just now," and then he sat down and accepted a blanket from an agent.
Bruce's fists curled up again of their own accord, his mouth pulling back into a crazy grin. "Oh Jesus," he breathed. "I think it worked. I think it really worked, Tony, I think-"
The white thing tore around the sky once more, now slowly siphoning off energy until it came to rest on the ground, not not white but red and gold and scorched. Tony, once more distinguishable, reached up and popped the helmet off. His hair stood out in every direction and his eyes bulged. Weaving slightly, he said, "Excuse me, that was rude. Can someone tell me what the hell just happened?" then promptly fell over.
Coulson, Fury, and Bruce got to him first. Tony's eyes were closed and his smile was roguish. He looked like he'd just gotten the best lay of his life.
"Is he still alive?" asked Fury, in the tone of an affronted hostess confronting a gatecrasher.
Coulson put two fingers on Tony's neck and then looked at Fury. "Well, he's got a good pulse. A little fast, but he's OK so far."
"What do you mean, 'OK'?" asked Fury.
Coulson's look was bleakly deferential. "Not dead."
Tony raised his head. "I would killfor a martini right now," he informed Coulson, and then laid it back down again carefully with a small moan. The EMTs converged on him and Bruce stood there, eyes watering, grinning and grinning into the flashing lights and confusion.
"You want a drink first?" Tony asked Bruce now. "I mean, Jesus, if there was ever a time for it..."
"I think you cleaned out the minibar, actually," said Pepper, scooting out to help hold Tony up. "Good thing you brought that cane."
"How are you?" asked Bruce.
"Better than you, from the looks of it," answered Tony. "I'm kinda weak, but I'm coming back, I guess. I really feel like I have jetlag, only deeper. I'm sort of replenishing...my spirit, but that sounds so New Agey. That's what it feels like, though."
Bruce nodded. "Yeah, well, just take it easy after I leave." He paused. "Come to think of it, why are you even here?"
"To see what sending someone across a universal convergence point looks like. Also to make sure it works, because I'd never get clearance to find out afterward if you made it through OK."
"Mr. Stark," said Fury carefully to no one in particular, "is being given a special liberty right now, in light of all that happened. Special Avenger team or not, this is very unorthodox. By all rights, nobody not involved in pulling it off should be here."
"Oh, we won't tell," Tony waved with dismissive cheer. "Besides, you have to show off all this talent to someone." He looked at Bruce. "So they beat you up and tore your clothes so when you get back, it looks like you wandered off from the crash, right? If these guys could wipe your memory, they probably would, you know."
"Nothing will ever make me forget this, believe me." He included Pepper briefly in this statement. She smiled back at him.
Fury coughed. Everyone looked at him. "Mr. Wayne will be going now," he said firmly.
"You ever think about staying?" asked Tony. He sipped at a water bottle Pepper handed him. "Because that repulsor-to-repulsor recharge move was pretty smart. Which sounds like an unnatural sex act now that I say it out loud. It just took longer than you thought it would. You'd be a great addition to this dog-and-pony show Nick's working on. Perfect black ops guy-you don't even exist in this world. Whattaya say, man?" He looked entreatingly at Fury, who turned away. Tony shrugged. "Ah, he'll come around. C'mon, Bruce, you're a good guy."
"That's why I have to go back." He offered Tony his hand. They locked gazes briefly in the same thought-Yeah, so, nice meeting a guy from a different world and killing an immortal predator together and hey, the pizza was good, too, see you in the funny pages-and then Tony surged forward and slammed an arm around Bruce.
"You end up here again, you know where to find me, dickhead. Now go before I smack you around myself."
Bruce laughed and then let go and the Doctor and Wanda started up again as he moved away from everyone else. The weird greenish cloud rose from nothing like ground mist, but this time, despite its eldritch aspect, it seemed welcoming.
After a minute it grew almost opaque. Things seen through it were shadowy and blurred. The Doctor gestured.
"It's ready when you are, Mr. Wayne. I can only hold this open for so long. It should open up near the crash, but not so near that anyone will see you re-enter your own world again."
Wanda tightened her brow, staring slightly into the middle distance. "I'm manipulating probability in your world as best I can," she said. "You should come out in an area much like this one, alone, but not too far from the crash site. It hasn't been quite as long in your world as it has in this one, but the rescuers will have gone. It's down to forensics now. You should find some..." she squinted. "...To the southwest of where you come through, about a mile, over-over another small hill. Go quickly, it's later there." She kept her focus on the ether but smiled for him. "I'm glad you're alright, Mr. Wayne. Now goodbye."
He turned one last time to wave at Tony. "Don't let anyone go rebuilding suits on you."
Tony's eyes popped. "You assho-"
Bruce stepped through. Green, then gold, then blackness, then nothing, and he was-