Note: Fair warning, I am not a Scarlet Witch fan and it shows. I really just don't like her. I'm not bashing, as I don't like to bash characters, but my bias shows.
"So let me get this straight," Alan said softly, his hand grasping Virgil's lightly. The doctors were lessening the medication today, so there was a chance that he would wake soon. And Alan had been adamant that he was going to be there to see his brother. "You have an evil lady practically force you to build a murder-bot through mind-control techniques and you just…invite her onto the team anyway? Even after she mind controlled even more of you?"
He knew he sounded incredulous, but holy cow. How had this team of literal superheroes not seen the red flags there? The lady had literally worked for the bad guys. Voluntarily. Including the said murder-bot.
Tony frowned at him, glancing up from the tablet he was working on. They'd spent a good many hours the night before, him and Alan and Peter, talking about the differences that this world held from Alan's. The tech was similar, but not exact. The histories were similar but had no mention of superheroes or aliens or anything of the like in Alan's world. And they'd come to the conclusion that Stark Industries was this world's version of Tracy Industries.
Only less successful than TI was in Alan's world.
Apparently, with TI having gone into Aeronautics instead of weapons, they'd not had to shut down any divisions of their company. Instead, they'd just continued building and building until they hit the practically unheard of multi-trillion-dollar level. Tony, frankly, was taking it as a challenge. He'd been up the rest of the night scribbling away at plans and ideas, once Alan had dropped off to sleep.
"She didn't force me," he muttered.
"That's called gaslighting," Alan pointed out, frowning at the man. "It's bad enough when other people do it. Don't do it to yourself."
"Look," Tony scowled. "I built Ultron. That's on me."
"Why?" Alan asked. "Why did you build Ultron? You said yourself that you hadn't ever planned on finishing it, so why did you pull the idea out again?"
Tony opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again, unable to. He thought for a long moment, brow furrowed. "Because," he said after a long moment. "Because of Maximoff."
"And you said," Alan continued, "That the rest of your teammates started having problems with you after Ultron and Maximoff joining the team. Her, a known mind-manipulator with a serious grudge against you. Misguided or not." He scowled. "A mind-controller who hates you joins the team, and suddenly everyone seems to have issues with you."
Tony blinked at the boy, gaping a bit. It had never occurred to him to look into Maximoff as a potential reason for the fallout of the Avengers. Peter had made a passing comment once, but Tony had brushed it off. But Alan had a point, now that he thought about it. Rogers, along with many of the others, had been acting seriously off-kilter since Wanda had joined the team. His relationship issues with Pepper hadn't started up until after Wanda had joined the team either, only clearing up when the rogues were long gone. Tony had thought it had been stress, but now he wasn't so sure.
Perhaps an outside view really was needed at times.
And you couldn't get more outside than some kids from an entirely different world. "I'll…look into that, chico," he mumbled, tapping at the screen of his tablet. FIRDAY would make a note of that, at least.
Alan had been thrilled at the sight of the tablet and the holograms. Apparently, he had them in his own world, although he had pointed out a few differences in the tech. Tony had picked his brains about their technology, but Alan had admitted that Virgil was more the mechanic in the family and he was more numbers and codes. (And Marketing, apparently? A sixteen-year-old head of marketing in his family's company, which was impressive in its own right.)
But still, this kid was from a world where his family held the monopoly on household tech, and green energy and medical tech and space travel. Space. Travel.
Holy crap, these kids flew rockets on the daily, with propulsion systems that were scarily similar to his arch reactor.
It was good to know that, no, not everyone in their world had such advanced technology. But it was also humbling to know what this family had decided to do with it.
International Rescue sounded like a much better idea than the Avengers, honestly.
Alan had pointed out, though, that their world didn't have the same types of supervillains to deal with. They didn't have powers or aliens, or evil Nazis powered by alien tech. They did have a megalomaniac called The Hood, though.
("The Hood?" Tony had asked, breaking into a laugh. "What kind of villain name is that?"
"A lame one," Alan had replied, rolling his eyes. "You're one to talk, though. You fought a guy called the Mandarin. That's a freaking fruit."
"I think he was more aiming for the Chinese aspect, kiddo," Tony pointed out.
Alan hadn't been amused. "Still a stupid name.")
So, no aliens or supervillains. Just evil people with way too much money and access to people with too many brains but not enough morals.
Tony looked up, about to say something else, when a soft sound from the bed had him changing his mind. "I'll give you two a minute while I go find the doc," he said instead, getting to his feet and heading for the door.
Alan watched him go before turning his attention to Virgil. His big brother was slowly waking, a little scared if his heartrate was anything to go by. Alan refused to use Scott's whistle again because that was Scott's way of saying "I'm here. Everything's fine." And Scott wasn't here, and Alan really didn't want to Virgil to stop trusting that whistle.
Rescues were dangerous business. Trust was sometimes all you had out there.
So, he resorted to running his fingers through Virgil's hair instead. The slight wavy curl has always amused him; Virgil usually kept it hidden with copious amounts of hair gel. "Hey Virge," Alan almost cooed, speaking soft and calm. "We have got to stop having you wake up like this." His voice went a little wobbly and even half-asleep Virgil picked up on it, frowning lightly.
"Al?" came the raspy whisper, and Alan moved to press a stray to Virgil's lips. HEMERA glinted in the light from the window; Alan hadn't removed her since putting her back on. The doctor hadn't been very happy about that, stating worry over the new stitches in his arm, but he just felt better having her on his person.
Talking with her through FRIDAY had been an experience, and he was more eager than ever to get a look at her code again.
Virgil sipped at the water, blinking blearily brown eyes open. "Alan? You okay?" he asked.
Alan frowned at him. "Physically? Yes," he answered. "Mentally, I'm probably scarred for life." He swallowed heavily, setting aside the cup of water. "You put yourself between me and a raptor, V."
Virgil frowned at him, brow furrowing. He had no idea where they were, and his brain wasn't working at full capacity. The last thing he remembered was overwhelming pain and terror and the sheer need to protect his baby brother. "Of course I did," he replied, reaching up with one hand to press a knuckle to Alan's cheek. An IV line tugged at his wrist, and he blinked at it.
Alan made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "Is there no ounce of self-preservation anywhere in your body?" he asked, his voice little more than a harsh whisper.
Virgil gave a half-smile in response, his knuckle stroking Alan's cheek. He took a quick glance around, noting where they were and not making too much sense out of it. Medical room. New cast. Windows showing they were in a tall building.
New world, then.
He couldn't remember jumping, but that was neither here nor there. "We're the family that flies into disasters instead of away from them, Sprout," he said wearily. "Self-preservation doesn't run in our family." And then he grabbed Alan's chin and forced the kid to look at him, eyeing him sternly. "And if you think that there is a single goddamn world out there where I wouldn't stand between you and danger, then I've seriously failed you somewhere along the line."
Alan's face crumbled and the teen buried himself and his brother's chest. He didn't cry, but he was breathing harshly, as though fighting back sobs. Virgil almost wished that Alan would just let go. Instead, he merely wrapped his arms carefully around his brother and held him close as he took stock of himself.
He hurt, in that floaty, fuzzy way that spoke of medication dulling the worst of it. His ribs were aching a bit, where Alan was pressed to him. His arm was giving that pinched throb of a broken bone that he'd gotten used to over the past week or so. And his thigh was aching in a way that spoke of untold damage, hidden beneath bandages and the sheet of the bed. He was kind of reluctant to know just what had happened.
The door opened and a small Asian woman stepped in, followed by a man. Virgil studied them quietly, tiredly, as the lady—obviously a doctor—checked over the machines and readings and tactfully ignored the cuddling session going on in the bed. Virgil was a little impressed, actually, since such cuddling was generally frowned upon in hospitals.
Alan composed himself after a moment, sniffling, and then sat up. The man eyed him critically, asking, "Everything okay?"
"Virgil," Alan said, rubbing at his eyes. "This is Tony Stark, our host, and Doctor Helen Cho." He winced a little, shifting to sit in a better position. "Mr. Stark, Dr. Cho, this is my dumbass brother, Virgil." Virgil rolled his eyes, giving a weak smile. He was already rather tired, despite having just woken up.
"Good to meet you, Dr. Tracy," Cho said, scanning something into her tablet.
Virgil's forehead scrunched and he looked towards Alan, who merely shrugged. "I'm not a doctor," he said hesitantly. "But it's nice to meet you too."
"You're not?" Tony asked, frowning as he glanced up from his phone. "HEMERA can be hard to understand but she was pretty clear that you're a trained ER trauma specialist."
Virgil blinked. "HEMERA can talk?" he asked Alan.
"Not really," Alan hedged, face twisting. "I'll explain later." Later, when Virgil wasn't so tired and his brain wasn't so fuzzy.
Virgil turned back to the other two, blinking in confusion. "Okay," he mumbled. "I have the training and experience, but not the degree," he explained. "Therefore, there's no need to call me 'Doctor'."
"Grandma's the only medical doctor in our family," Alan said with a careful shrug. "She was the actual ER trauma doctor, and she's the one that trained all of us in medical. Most of us are at the EMT level. Virgil just decided to take it further."
"Was needed," Virgil mumbled, eyes growing heavy.
"Only medical doctor?" Tony asked, sounding a bit amused.
Virgil let his eyes fall shut as he listened to Alan explain how John and Gordon were technically both doctors as well, in their own fields. The world faded out and the last thing he heard was Tony exclaiming, "You know, with everything you've told me, I'd have to say your family's just full of overachievers."
Note: Alright, guys. I am on my way to vacation now and will have very limited access to a computer for a while. I will continue writing (14/24 hour car drives, what better time to write, right?) and will update when I can. No promises for anything significantly regular for a while, but I will aim for at least once a week. Love ya!