The sound of the hotel door opening up pulled Wufei out of his meditation. When Sally entered, he smiled, standing when she turned to face him.

"Hi," she said, and he could see a little bit of the tension ease out of her. He could feel even his own stress levels lower at seeing her again. Something about Sally's qi reminded him of a steady river: deep and strong, but deceptively still on the surface. He wasn't particularly demonstrative, but after months of not getting to see Sally in person, it was easy to open his arms and let her step into him.

He took a deep inhale of her hair, and said "Hi," in return. She leaned back and lifted her head, and he obliged with a soft kiss, running a hand over a twist.

"I missed you," she admitted, leaning back in and resting her head on his shoulder. He'd been taller than her for the whole time they'd been together, but there was still a tiny part of him that was a little surprised by how small she could feel in his arms. She was such a force of nature, fearless and fierce in equal measure, that the fact that she wasn't any bigger than Maxwell still caught him off guard on occasion.

"And I, as well," he agreed. He missed her quick, easy wit, her intelligence, her competence. He secretly enjoyed listening to her rant about someone's incompetence because it reminded him exactly how smart and capable she was.

"This was not how I expected this month to start," Sally chuckled against his shoulder.

He hummed in agreement, rubbing her back idly. "I am afraid that Maxwell was right to lay the blame for this one at my feet," he admitted.

She pulled back enough to look up at him. "Did you just admit to Duo being right about something? I'm sorry, I must not have heard that correctly? Surely that can't be my Chang Wufei speaking."

"Ha. Ha," he said, stepping back.

Smiling, she closed the space between them, her arms tightened around his waist in a quick squeeze. "Teasing," she assured. "So what was he right about?"

Wincing, not really wanting to admit to it but knowing that Sally would get it out of him sooner or later, he said, "He was right about me doing a poor job of hiding Nataku."

She smothered another chuckle against his chest. "Hiding is not exactly your greatest strength, I'm afraid."

He stroked a braid again, enjoying the particular texture of the twists under his fingers. "It isn't. Nataku is better hidden now." He winced again, remembering the long hike out of the jungle, but the chances of someone finding Nataku now were slim. Not impossible—nothing was impossible, but even he could admit the waterfall caves Maxwell found were both more than remote enough and difficult to find that even if someone were looking for it, they'd struggle. The only thing he'd done that was clever—that Maxwell did again—was wedge Nataku in somewhere that required it to be piloted to get it out.

"So you and Maxwell both made it out of the jungle in one piece. I'm impressed," she teased.

"Don't remind me," he complained. "How'd things go with the elders?"

She blew out an irritated breath that made him tighten his arms a little bit. "They were… certainly not pleased to be dealing with me instead of you, despite you obviously being all over the news and thus obviously busy."

It wasn't hard to imagine how unhappy the few remaining elders of the Chang and Long clans had reacted to having to deal with Sally. Sally, who wasn't even from a clan, Sally, who had joined the military—how very unwomanly—who had gained rank and worked as a doctor. The doctor would have been at least accepted if she hadn't been so lowborn that she'd been required to go into the military in order to gain her education. Sally, who worked, who was over thirty—really, how could she honestly expect to have a child, at her age, it was almost irresponsible—who still worked for Preventers, never mind that she was the second-in-command.

Sally, whose beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair were glaring signs of exactly how mixed her blood was, how other she was, no matter how well she knew their languages.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said.

He felt her shrug against his chest. "I knew what I was getting into when I said I'd marry you," she said. She didn't sound upset, at least, just resigned. "It takes more than a bunch of misogynistic old men to scare me."

A proud smile pulled at his lips. It was a frightening thing to subject anyone, much less someone he loved, to the outdated and xenophobic rhetoric and opinions of the clans, but Sally proved over and over that he had chosen the right partner. Or perhaps, more accurately, she had decided he was the right partner for her.

"I wish I could just…"

"No you don't," she countered before he could even voice the words. "You love your clan, even if they're a bunch of backwards old sexists. Your honor and your dedication to your duties are some of the things I love best about you. You wouldn't be the man I love if you could just walk away from them."

He sighed but didn't argue with her. He knew nothing good lay in that direction. "I promise you, we will not be raising any child of ours with those ideas."

"I know," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I will make sure of it."

She would, he knew. Sally would never let him get away with it. That stubborn, unflinching will was just something else that made her a formidable, and admirable, match.

None of which meant that making the rounds to first the Chang and Long extended clans, then the remaining major families—descendants of nobility and court who had managed to maintain money and power on Earth through the years, all of whom knew each other in a complex network that made Wufei's head hurt when he thought about it too long—was going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination.

"So, what do we have on the schedule?" he asked.

"Well, with Duo and Mr. Wilson here for at least another day or two, I figured we could put off starting our road trip until he goes back to the US. Spend some time with him, unless you're already sick of him?"

It was meant to be teasing, he knew, and he knew that Sally was as fond of Maxwell as she was of any of the other pilots, even if he often made her crazy. Still, having so recently gotten him back, the teasing felt wrong.

"How was he?" he asked.

Sally leaned back again, looking at him curiously. "You just spent two days hiking through the jungle with him."

Inclining his head in acknowledgment, he said, "Yes, but I want a second opinion."

"He hides more with me than he does with you," she pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

He hummed again, because she wasn't wrong, but, "I trust your observations."

To her credit, she gave it serious consideration. "Good. Better than I've seen him in a while. Good enough to break into the hospital and steal things," she says.

A little bit of remaining concern unwound in his chest. "That was my assessment as well," he admitted. "He is still hurting, but he is healing."

"Not back to his old hellion self, but… the Maxwell's Demon's not completely gone," she said, giving him a gentle fist to the chest.

His qi sense felt the same—Maxwell was still recovering, his qi steadying, strengthening—but he would probably never be who he was before losing Yuy. Perhaps that was the way of the world; the people you love become an inextricable part of you, even if you lose them.

"You're worried," she said when he didn't reply.

"Wary," he corrects.

"Semantics." She waves him off. "Why are you concerned?"

"I am… concerned about how Stark may respond to Maxwell know that he knows."

She blinked at him, confused. "Knows?"

"That he's a pilot?" he said, equally confused.

Pushing away from him so she could see him more clearly, she frowned and said, "He didn't know?"

Wufei shook his head. "No," he said. "Not until they were on their way here."

Closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead, Sally said, "Let me get this straight: Maxwell managed to hide that he was a Gundam pilot from Tony Stark until they were on their way here to deal with your Gundam?"

"That is what Maxwell said." It seemed hard to believe to him as well, but if anyone could hide something from Tony Stark, Wufei was sure that Maxwell could.

"Leave it to Duo," she said, reflecting his own feelings on the matter. She dropped her hand and squinted at him, as if it would change what she was seeing. "He really didn't know?" Wufei shook his head. "Ugh."

That was never a good sound. "Why are you upset?" he asked.

"Oh, not upset, just irritated," she said.

"Semantics," he countered.

She glared in response before saying, "I'm just irritated because I'm going to have the dubious honor of dealing with your extremely distant relatives on my own when you go back with him."

He startled, not sure how she had come to that conclusion. "We've had this visitation tour scheduled for months," he reminded her. "If they were unhappy to have to deal with you when I was detained because of Nataku, they're going to be even worse if I'm unavailable because I went to New York with a friend." The whole reason he was earthside was to have this visitation and get the blessings of the clans on their marriage so they could finally set a date. Part of the point was presenting a united front as a couple and introducing Sally to the family.

"I know, I know," she said. "But these are a whole bunch of people you don't know, you're barely related to, and—at the end of the day—aren't going to change our minds if they decide to disown you."

He couldn't help the reflexive cringe at the thought, but they'd had this discussion in detail. He had chosen Sally, and while his life would be much easier if he could get the support of the clans, no amount of disapproval was going to change his mind. He'd married at his clan's will once before, and while he'd been an arrogant and self-centered child, he hadn't been in love with Meilan. He'd hadn't respected her or honored her until far too late, but he didn't know if they would have found the love that he and Sally have. He didn't know if he would have ever learned to truly honor her, not just as his wife, but as a person, the way she deserved if not for some of the lessons he had learned since her death.

Perhaps they wouldn't have been unhappy; he isn't convinced they would have ever truly been happy. Content might have been the best they could have hoped for.

With him leading the project for building L6 and being the last, rightful heir of the L5 clans, he doubted anything shy of marrying a man or someone who was a complete outsider would be unforgivable to the clans, but there was no need to push their luck with them. Since the clans were helping to support the rebuilding, playing nice made everything much easier. Throwing Sally at them, alone, because he was assisting an outsider friend would not be a great way to help soothe the already ruffled feathers.

"I can't ask you to do that," he said.

"No, you couldn't, but I'm not asking you to. I'm telling you that you need to go to New York with Duo."

"Sally—"

"Stark just found out that his son is a Gundam pilot," she said in that calm, rational tone she always used when she was making a logic argument he was going to hate. "What do you think a complete control freak like Tony Stark is going to do?" Wufei honestly didn't know Stark well enough to guess how he would specifically react, but he knew enough control freaks to know it wouldn't be pretty. "He is going to go into research mode. He's going to dig into anything he can find, and he's going to figure out—if he hasn't already—that Duo is 02."

Wufei closed his eyes and sighed. Over the years, there had been more than a few documentaries on the Gundams, and plenty of speculation on the kinds of people the pilots themselves were. Most of the "evaluations" were horribly incorrect, but the bulk of casualties dealt were attributed—not entirely incorrectly—to the 01 and 02 Gundams, which meant that Deathscythe, in particular, had gained a menacing and bloodthirsty reputation. It probably wasn't helped by the Gundam's aesthetic, but he couldn't in good conscience send Duo back to Stark without any backup.

"I owe you," he told her, not quite an apology, but he knew that she'd know he was conceding her point.

She hummed in agreement. "You most certainly will." Then she grinned. "But you love me anyway."

He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back close, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. "I do," he said. He really, really did.

Vision called them to dinner, as they had been doing while Duo had been around, but when Steve got down, Tony was conspicuously missing.

Before he could comment on it, Natasha said, "Hill called. Sam's awake."

A little stress loosened from Steve's chest. "I was starting to worry. How long before he can come home?"

"Apparently he was unconscious for long enough that the doctors want to keep him under observation for at least twenty-four hours to make sure that the concussion isn't more severe than they thought," she explained.

"So probably another two days," Bruce volunteers. "Between when they release him and how long the flight should take, since you brought the Quinjet back. He'll probably be flying economy."

"But I do have a number that you can call and talk to him if you want to talk to him yourself," Natasha offered.

Sliding into his usual spot, Steve said, "I'd like that."

Wanda set a plate in front of him piled high with mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and probably 20 ounces of steak. She gave him a small smile. "I know your appetite."

"It looks great," Steve told her. He even meant it, regardless of how little he was in the mood to eat. Tony's absence felt conspicuous.

"I've called Mr. Stark up as well," Vision said, so Steve's agitation must have been obvious.

Bucky, who had slid soundlessly in next to him, said, "Why don't you make up a plate and take it down to Stark?"

"That's not a bad idea," Bruce agreed. "I don't think Tony's come up for air since you guys got back. There is food in the workshop, but…"

But they all knew how Tony was about eating when he was wrapped up in something.

"You should go," Bucky encouraged in a strangely soft tone. When Steve met his eyes, he seemed sincere.

Wanda came back over with another plate, this one more normally portioned. "Go ahead," she said. "There will be plenty more family dinners."

Relieved, Steve, stood, taking both plates, then making his way to the elevator. FRIDAY must have approved because before Steve could say anything, she said, "To the workshop, Captain Rogers?"

"Yes, please. Thanks, FRIDAY."

The elevator began to move with only the barest feeling, dropping him off at the workshop. "I'll unlock the door for you, Captain," FRIDAY added as he stepped out. "Since your hands are full."

Reminded of JARVIS and the honest affection he seemed to have for Tony, he made his way to the door, turning to push the door open with his back.

Tony sat on one of the worktables, still in the clothing he'd been wearing when they left, which was not surprising. He had at least half a dozen screens up in front of him, but his attention seemed fixed on the one directly in front o him.

"If you're coming to say 'I told you so,' you can take your righteousness right out the door," Tony said without looking back, and the videos he was watching paused. was an image of the Gundam with black bat wings and a scythe.

Approaching cautiously, Steve said, "I actually came bearing dinner." As he got closer, he could see the image on the largest screen—the one that seemed to have most of Tony's attention—was a Gundam with black bat wings and a scythe. He bit back a sigh, not surprised to see Tony obsessing over this either. He came to a stop next to Tony and held out the plate for him.

After a moment, Tony looked at him, then looked down at the proffered plate. "I'm not hungry," he said. His stomach promptly growled, calling out his lie. Grumping, Tony took the plate, but he just held it in his lap, turning his attention back to the screens in front of them. The bat-winged Gundam took up the center screen, but what looked like five other models were paused on the smaller side screens.

"I'm wasn't going to say 'I told you so,'" Steve said. "I had no idea he was a Gundam pilot." He took a couple of quick bites of his own dinner.

"You told me he was dangerous and hiding things. That his story didn't make sense," Tony replied, picking up the fork, stabbing a large head of broccoli and stuffing it in his mouth with jerky, irritated movements.

He had to swallow before he spoke. "I did," Steve agreed. "But I can also understand why he didn't tell us this one." It wasn't really much different from superheroes wanting to protect their own identities.

That got an ugly snort from Tony. "I'll bet you can," he replied, the bitterness so thick in his voice that Steve ached with it. He hit play, and they watched the acid-green scythe mow down mobile suits like they were no more challenging than the wheat a real scythe would reap. Tony ate quickly, like he had to force himself, while Steve found eating on autopilot, his body pushing him for the calories even if he wasn't really hungry.

He didn't know much about the Eve Wars. They were too recent and he didn't know anyone who had been intimately involved in them. Most of what he knew, he knew from Tony's sharings from his research binge.

"Do you remember what I told you? About the Gundams after Sokovia?" Tony asked, breaking the silence. If the video had audio, Tony had it muted, and it left his workshop feeling eerie and almost haunted, only the sounds of their forks scratching on the plates.

"You told me a lot of things," Steve admitted, though he hadn't been listening as well as he should have been. He felt like the Gundams were too much of a wild card to be relied on, untrustworthy due to their unwillingness to reveal themselves or give up their weapons. The first Eve War was seven years ago—Duo would have been fifteen. He still didn't like the Gundams being in the hands of their pilots, but he understood their unwillingness to unmask themselves better, at least.

"The biggest thing—the thing I obsessed about," Tony clarified.

He remembered being in the kitchen, Gundam videos playing in the air, Tony gesticulating at them, his voice explaining. "It wasn't the Gundams that were so superior," Steve said, as if in sync with the memory of Tony in his head. "It was their pilots."

"Yeeuup," Tony said, drawing the word out. "It was a bunch of teenagers that made the Gundams special."

Steve startled and looked at Tony. Tony didn't look back at him, but he continued. "Duo. Yuy was his partner—he must have been another pilot. It's would explain his status as a Preventer, just like it explains Duo's. Chang is Duo's age too. That leaves the other two, but I'll bet that Tall-Barton is one, and Winner definitely knew them, if he wasn't a pilot himself. Four of the five were fifteen, if not all five." There was none of the remembered enthusiasm in Tony's voice as he detailed it out. He just sounded tired and defeated.

Listening to Tony made some pieces come together in Steve's mind. He had thought Duo held back the information to protect himself, which seemed odd when he was so willing to admit to something as potentially damaging as marrying Jesus Reyes. "He didn't tell us because he was protecting the other pilots," Steve said. "As soon as you knew he was a pilot, he knew you'd be able to figure out the others just based on his relationships with them."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, but there was no victory or satisfaction in it, just weariness. "Five enhanced kids verse a sphere-wide military organization, and the five enhanced kids won."

Steve set his own plate down behind him, its clatter loud in the uncanny silence of the workshop, his entire appetite gone. He remembered Vision and Duo's exchange in China.

"I do not think killing is necessary."

"It's practical."

Running his hands over his face, his stomach churned uncomfortably. No wonder Tony hadn't come up for two days. It was a surprise he ate anything at all. Steve thought it'd be surprising if they both managed to keep their meals down.