Disclaimer: So nothing is mine and you absolutely positively cannot sue me for any reason. Even if you wanted to try it would do you absolutely no good because I have no money, and am not likely to make any any time soon. Certainly, any of that money would not come from anything I've written here. All of that said, anything you don't recognize from a different source probably is mine, and if you want to use it you do have to ask me first. That's just playing nice.
Move in day happens about on schedule and throughout the beginning of the month of March, convoys of supplies, equipment, and personal effects are being shipped up-state. For now they're still going to be in condo style living with shared common spaces, but the Tower is nearly at capacity and the whole team ends up agreeing that it's time to get moving. It's just that no one is about to go nuts unpacking until they get their for real housing sorted.
All Cassie can say is thank the gods for efficient friends and moving companies because trying to coordinate moving with wedding planning might have actually killed her. Instead, Cassie and Steve just systematically box up all of their possessions in order of the least useful to the daily required and trust that they will make it to their new lodgings. It's an act of faith, but Pepper assures them that it won't be misplaced.
In addition to their personally required organizational nightmares, all of the Tower residents end up required to notch in to high gear for their professional roles.
Cassie hardly sees Steve, Rhodes, Sam, Natasha, or Reyna for several days on end because they keep getting called to D.C to try to sort through all of the bullshit of the U.S government. Hill is likewise missing in action and Cassie is pretty sure Sharon Carter A.K.A Agent 13 has popped up on their side as much as she can be from her position with the CIA. Anonymous emails keep showing up periodically in everyone's inbox from Nick Fury giving advice.
Will and Cassie together become thoroughly immersed in the project of stocking their new medical facilities with all of the needed equipment and personnel. Added to that is the task of making sure that all of their files, research, and stored information make their way to their new facilities. At least this project is one that Jane, Darcy, and Bruce are joining them in.
FRIDAY proves to be indispensable in the process. Vision chips in to after demonstrating his abilities to interface directly with the servers. By the end of things, Cassie figures her data is probably saved in like eight different places. Redundancy has been made her friend.
Pepper tells her this is good business strategy.
Pepper herself is proving her own otherworldly qualifications by masterminding most of the elements of the move while simultaneously running her company. The fact that these are two things that can be done at the same time boggles the mind. Truly, if Pepper ever writes a how-to book Cassie will buy it and study each word individually to try to divine her secrets.
Thor and Pietro are being used basically as enhanced pack mules to help transport heavy or miscellaneous objects from one place or another. Wanda pulls double babysitting duty with Katya and it seems to be the impression of the press that the woman may actually be a super-powered nanny. Barton and Bucky seem to be taking over the job of co-ordinating field operations and training for their new recruits. It's a job that would normally fall to Steve, but the other two men are doing the job admirably in his absence.
Cassie hears the new recruits have spent a lot of time huddling in soggy fields aiming at things very far away. As a user of distance weapons, Cassie heartily approves of this method. She'd slip out and help if she had more time.
Meg has taken on the frankly enormous job of co-ordinating and setting up the dining and catering facilities for their new home. It is an immense responsibility that Cassie does not envy. Most of what she knows about the process is that Meg spends a lot of time muttering about wusses with food allergies and how trained spies and assassins should grow up and take their lactose tablets instead of complaining about how the cafeteria is being insensitive by not stocking enough milk alternatives.
May the gods preserve the soul of the next individual who complains about needing to keep a paleo diet or any such equivalent of a similar ilk.
All things considered, the biotech conference Cassie gets invited to attend is a very nice break from everything else she could be doing with her time. Many of the people in attendance are also stressed beyond belief, but they are people whose stress does not effect Cassie's life and contains a definitive end date in the immediate future. The people who aren't stressed are smug, which, while irritating, is also not something with an undue effect on her life.
The conference is held in Reykjavic and Tony goes with her to help debut some of the less destructive technology Stark Industries has been developing lately. They stay in a hotel which to Cassie appears nearly incomprehensibly fancy because that's how Tony operates. He rents the entire top floor for the occasion which means that they each get their own suite of rooms with a shared kitchen and dining space somewhere in the middle of a whole lot of empty space. It's ostentatious, but done for privacy, and after the last few months of media attention that's something that Cassie has a whole new appreciation for.
Tony and Cassie have never really hung out before. They've spent time together in social settings, but always with a group of other people around. Their one-on-one talks have always been somehow related to work or Katya. Sometimes just straight up sass.
Now they have some sort of unique opportunity to just... talk to each other.
Cassie thinks she earns some sort of immediate credentials when she proves that she knows all of the words to a full ACDC soundtrack for the first portion of the flight. Tony is acerbic, jabbing, and sarcastic in conversation and Cassie alternates between calmly unruffled response and giving as good as she gets. By the end of the travel time to Iceland, he's mellowed down and is talking to her in a purely relaxed way.
As relaxed as Tony Stark gets.
Which isn't very.
Hands up if that shocks you.
No takers?
How shocking.
They go and find dinner out after landing in hopes of staying awake long enough to beat the potential consequences of jet lag and only end up having to deal with one overly enthusiastic group of teenagers snapping pictures on their phones. The official paparazzi probably won't fall upon them until after the start of the conference tomorrow. Hopefully even then it'll be fairly minimal given that the reporters there will only be present via special invitation and probably won't want to be thrown out for being too pushy and personal.
"That's gonna be a fun rumor," Stark comments, popping a bite of roasted potato in to his mouth.
"They have come up with some interesting ones," Cassie agrees, sipping her water. The dish she had ordered had been described in Icelandic on the menu and she hadn't bothered trying to translate it before ordering. Instead, she had simply trusted to the happy looks on the faces of the other diners and the recommendations of the very efficient looking waiter. She had ended up with some kind of beef dish with a surprising variety of peppers involved.
Stark has what Cassie is pretty sure is some variety of crab cakes and an assortment of roasted vegetables. "My personal favorite so far as been that Katya is mine and Natasha's love child."
Cassie nearly does a spit take laughing at that one. "How would you ever hide a pregnancy in Nat's battle clothes? Do those dates even line up, like, at all?"
"Nope," he says, popping the 'p'. "Not even a little. If they want that theory to stick they're gonna have to credit me with inventing time travel first."
At that Cassie slowly lowers her glass and looks him dead in the eye. "Anthony Stark," she intones in a voice of the utmost severity. "If you start trying to invent time travel without telling us I swear before all the gods both known and unknown that so help me I will-"
He waves her off. "Stow the lecture Sun Spot. Pepper already ripped me a new one on the subject."
Cassie relaxes at that. Tony's more likely to listen to Pepper than her anyway and she knows for a fact that Pepper Potts can lecture like nobody's business. Still, she has one thing left she needs to say. "Alright. Well, just as food for thought, time travel presents a major immunological biohazard in addition to all of the other 'fabric of the universe' level problems. Germs mutate over time. Anyone who could come forwards would bring viral strains that no one has an immunity for because they've died out by now. Anybody who went too far back would invariably carry a whole portfolio of germs and viruses no one there could avoid catching. Either way, you've got a pretty good recipe for plague."
Tony cocks an eyebrow in interest. "Am I sensing some kind of demigodly explanation for the Black Death?"
"Not right now," Cassie says lightly. "There is one. But it's got nothing to do with time travel. Did Pepper not tell you? One of my half-siblings got pissed way back when and my dad had to show up to intervene."
He absorbs that wth a mixture of quizzical understanding and skepticism. "So you've never time traveled?"
She shakes her head. "Nah, it's never happened yet. Done a lot of other weird shit though. I've seen most of the underworld and the gods have seen fit to share a lot of visions of past heroes in dreams and such. As far as I know, no demigod has ever time traveled before. None of us would have the power too. Cronus is the lord of time, and he's a titan. No demigod children there."
Tony shrugs. "Guess I'll leave that to Doctor Who. Save the wrath of Pepper for my next major screw up."
He looks a little depressed by the thought and Cassie searches for some way to change the topic. "My favorite tabloid theory was the US Weekly feature that was convinced Steve, Sam, and Bucky were engaged in a gay polyamorous relationship."
She has to stop eating to whack Tony between the shoulder blades when that comment makes him swallow an entire roasted baby carrot whole.
They make it to the conference the next morning in plenty of time, largely because Cassie tends to wake up whenever the sun first hits her in the morning and she knows the value of large amounts of coffee. Tony's organized event security for the both of them and Cassie walks to the theatre where she's meant to give her talk accompanied by two massive men in dark suits wearing a small, bemused, smile. She's presenting the developed protein bars and some of the work she's done on potential treatments for autoimmune diseases.
It's nice to be getting press questions about her work and medicinal matters for once instead of inquiries about her upcoming marriage. She gets called 'Doctor Morgenstern' not 'miss' and no one refers to her as 'Mrs. Captain America. Given how hard she worked for her medical degree, it's something Cassie appreciates.
She also gets a chance to spend some time wandering around on the floor of the conference center looking at the informational booths of other experts in various fields of medical and biomedical research. Cassie's got no way of knowing from her own experience, but she gets a distinct and enjoyable impression of the whole set up as being vaguely reminiscent of a high school science fair. Though, she has to assume the information available at these booths, as well as the people manning them to answer questions are much more professionally arrayed and presented.
One such booth is handing out information in a convenient two double sided packet of pages. The print is large and decently dyslexia friendly and describes in good detail some newly found information on antibiotic resistant strains of viral infections. These elements, when combined, make for a very interested medically inclined demigod.
Cassie gets about half way through the first page when a tell-tale chill ghosts across the nape of her neck. It's the feeling of being watched by something she can't see yet, and it's a feeling Cassie is all too familiar with. It's a feeling that hardly ever forewarns of anything pleasant.
It takes a moment of thought and concentrated will power to check her first instinctual reaction. This would be to snap her head up and draw her weapon. Unfortunately, this would likely lead to general mass panic amongst the various assembled scientific types populating the room.
Instead, she rotates her neck slowly as though working out a kink in the muscles and casually casts around. No one seems to be obviously staring at her, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything, and about half of the space is still out of her view. Enhanced vision is a thing she has, the ability to see through the back of her head is not.
Moving carefully, though hopefully also casually, Cassie moves until her back is against a far wall. It's an easily defensible position is not a very quickly escapable one. In an ideal world, she'd find some high ground. Unfortunately, this is not an ideal world, and there was no high ground to be found.
Suddenly she straightens at the sight of a familiar face in the crowd. It's not Tony, nor is it a monster. Instead, the recognizable form of Bucky is wending his way through the crowd, deftly stepping around the milling people, head down and face shaded by a baseball cap. He's beside her in a moment and gives her a small, crooked smile.
"The security Stark hired for this thing is shit," he says by way of greeting. "Seriously, they left for the perimeter forty minutes ago and never came back. They took their coffee breaks at the same time. That's like asking for your principle to end up dead."
"Still breathing," Cassie points out dryly. "Despite badly planned coffee breaks. The bodyguard thing was kind of ridiculous in the first place. They can't protect me from anything they can't see coming." She shifts a bit and casts a glance back at the information packet while keeping half an eye on the rest of the room, trusting Bucky to keep a watch on anything she might miss. "Hello to you too by the way. Did Steve send you?"
Bucky lifts and drops a single shoulder. "Not really. Turns out someone I need to talk to for Ops is here. Nat made contact, but she's stuck in D.C so I'm doing the meet. Apparently, they don't leave home much, and this is a neutral place." He sounds like he'd like to roll his eyes but won't compromise observational integrity. "Though part of the good faith intel for the meet was that it might not be that neutral after all."
Cassie sighs. "So when you say 'not really'..." she lets her voice trail away. She doesn't quite know weather she wants to laugh, roll her eyes, or compose a stern talking to for her boyfriend rehashing the details of how she is very clearly able to take care of herself. Maybe she should just record it as a voice memo and resend it every time Steve lets his protective instincts overcome his logic and better judgement.
"He knows you handle your own shit," Bucky says bluntly. "Don't worry about it. For now I'll just say that he was pacing a lot after the news came in, and stopped when I said I'd come in person. For now, everyone should just consider my proximity to you a fringe benefit coincidence." He shifts again. "Like I said, your security sucks anyway. Might be irritating to be killed by the incompetence of others, you know?"
"I do hate danger via incompetency," Cassie agrees casually, allowing her irritation to drain away as she turns to the next page. She'll survive a lot of things, but a sniper headshot isn't one of them, and that's something Bucky can prevent. "Who are you meeting then? Or am I not allowed to know?" She wasn't sure how far down the road of operational compartmentalization the Avengers Initiative had gone at this point. She doesn't think it's all that far, but she's spent enough time in paramilitary environments to recognize that it might be.
He leans over, making a show of reading over her shoulder. Cassie wonders for a second how much of the content he understands. "One o'clock."
A quick glance in the direction he's indicating reveals a tall man with coffee colored skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and the kind of dark suit that looks simple, but is actually probably incredibly expensive. The man listens intently to each presenter he comes across, asks an occasional question, and never leaves without taking whatever informational packet is offered. As Cassie watches, he takes a packet from the latest table, says a few last words with a polite smile, and hands the packet to a tall woman in a sleek business suit and obvious wig trailing behind him.
Interesting. Interesting, but not that unusual. A lot of the information in this room is worth having security on it according to the governments it originated from. Cassie and Tony hadn't been the only people to show up with added eyes.
"Crown Prince T'Challa of Wakanda," Bucky says in a low, but casual voice. "Here on behalf of his father King T'Chacka. The King reached out to us. Cryptic, but he mentioned vibranium so we're paying attention. Especially after Ultron."
Cassie nods once, understanding the situation fairly quickly. "Am I your way in?"
Bucky gives one of his sudden, lopsided, smiles. "If you don't mind."
She smiles back and pushes away from the wall. "If we're working," she says with a virtuous air. "No time like the present." With that she steps forwards in to the stream of moving people and begins to wend her way through it. Bucky sticks close behind her and slightly to her left, providing a decent shield from anyone not watching their step and in danger of crashing in to her.
The Crown Prince of Wakanda clearly notices her approach and stills himself in the crowd until she's drawn closer. Curiously, the crowd milling crowd seems to part and divide around him like water flowing around a smooth stone in a river. As she draws closer, she thinks she knows why. There's an aura of cool power emanating from him, the kind that can only be generated by a deep self-possession and inner calm.
Bucky stays a pace or two behind her as Cassie draws level and then pauses. She isn't completely sure of the etiquette for the situation, not having met any royalty before. Gods, yes plenty. Kings, none. In the end, she decides she can't go wrong with a respectful inclination of her head.
"Your Highness."
The man extends a hand to her and Cassie takes it. She gets it back after a warm, though polite shake and that in itself tells her more about this man than she expects any of his words today will. Everything about him screams controlled power, education, and well-trained diplomacy.
"Dr. Morgenstern," he greets in softly accented English. "Or is it Rogers? News of your engagement is very well publicized, but I must admit that I do not follow the tabloids closely enough to know if the marriage has occurred."
Cassie gives him a small smile. "Not yet. The date we've set is for May thirteenth. And actually," she tips her head as a thought occurs to her. "I believe I may keep my own last name. Or maybe hyphenate it. I'm the last in my family you see. Anyway, there'll be more fanfare than Steve or I want. Apparently, we cannot avoid it."
The Prince's face twists in to a look that more or less reflects Cassie's own opinion on overlarge crowds and too many members of the press. Apparently, a life lived carrying out affairs of state didn't actually make a person used to it. "I attended a political wedding a few years ago," he states. "The whole affair seemed rather more trouble than was strictly necessary. Have you and your fiance considered a quite elopement?"
"It's becoming more tempting by the day," Cassie acknowledges. Bucky shifts behind her and she takes it as her cue to begin to move things along. She tips her head in the direction of the booth containing her own research. "Do you have any interest in hearing about my research in to possible courses of treatment to combat the lasting effects of childhood malnutrition? It is one of my newer areas of research. I also have a few plans in development for the application and practice of emergency field medicine I would welcome an opinion on."
The Prince nods. "I am honored to be asked," he says. I would be most interested to here of your ideas for the application of medicine in... less than ideal circumstances. I fear I would have nothing helpful to contribute in response to your other work. My younger sister Shuri, she is the scientist in the family."
Cassie makes a small sound of realization. "So that's why you're keeping all of the information packets. For your sister. Why couldn't she come?"
"She is only thirteen," T'Challa tells her as they begin to move towards their booth. "My parents did not wish her to leave school. Travel for me is rather easier. Besides, I am afraid I am rather useless in finding her birthday gifts. I hope that as much information as I can gather will suffice."
She can't help but smile at that. The struggle of finding appropriate birthday gifts is one she's all too familiar with between her close friends and handful of half-siblings. Suddenly an idea strikes her and she hops once on the spot. "They send all of the conference participants a full outline and bullet points of the information from each presenter. I have a copy at my table printed out. You can have it to take to her if you want."
He pauses. "You wil not need it?"
Cassie waves the words aside as they reach her table and she retrieves the paper in question from the side pocket of her bag. "I'll keep the email. Here, you can have the packet of other conference information too if you think she'd like it."
The words earn her a full fledged smile as he takes the offered papers. "It will likely make her very happy. Thank you. I will earn many big brother points for this."
"I have a few half-siblings," Cassie tells him. "I'm always happy to help earn sibling points."
They chat on for about twenty minutes about Cassie's research before T'Challa gestures to the woman still standing just behind him. "My apologies," he says. "I was very rude. This is Okoye, a member of the Kings Guard, and my personal head of security."
Cassie takes her cue and beckons Bucky forwards after greeting Okoye. "This is Sergeant James Barnes," she says. The introduction is probably superfluous as Bucky's face is decently well known by now, but manners are manners. "Here, I gather, because my fiance worries way too much about the safety of others for a guy who dropped in to a war zone with a literal target painted on his back."
"Sergeant," Prince T'Challa greats, extending his hand.
"Bucky's fine your Highness," he says, stepping up to take the offered hand.
They shake. And that, so far as Cassie can tell, is that so far as the information hand off goes. It's done quickly and smoothly and could probably be used as a text book perfect example of tradecraft. A tiny microchip goes from T'Challa to Bucky and the whole affair is managed for the time being.
Bucky and Okoye make their own introductions and step a little apart, conversing quietly in a different language. Cassie's pretty sure it's French and wonders if the rest of the contact is being made via royal proxy. Of course, it's also possible they're commiserating over the apparently dismal conference security arrangements. Cassie doesn't speak enough French to tell and is too preoccupied with telling T'Challa more about her research to pay much attention.
The Prince is a very good audience and asks several well thought out questions despite his earlier protests about not having much knowledge of medicine or biotech as a whole. Clearly whatever educational system they have in Wakanda is a good deal more developed than they let on, as is their country wide degree of technological advancement. It's information worth knowing and she makes a mental note of it to share with Steve later. Just in case it matters.
What she does notice in the middle of her conversation is the return of the chill sweeping down her spine. She also notices T'Challa stiffen and the rapid advancement of both Bucky and Okoye in their direction. She also notices the moment Tony arrives back on the scene.
The Iron Man suit is hardly a vehicle of subtlety. Especially not when Tony's voice is being amplified from inside it yelling at everyone to clear the room. Fortunately, his warning is headed.
The man with the laser weapon plugging off shots probably doesn't hurt the point either.
Bucky gets to them first thanks to a little assist from super serum and slides in to action with instincts born from about three intermittent decades spent playing bodyguard for Steve. Cassie finds herself shoved unceremoniously underneath a desk with the Crown Prince of Wakanda. It's a bit of a squeeze and not particularly a situation Cassie wants to be in.
For one thing, Cassie may be small but the prince is not and there's only so much you can do to change the rules of geometry and physics. For another, this position may be outside of direct fire lines, but it is also not a place that can be easily gotten out of should the need arise. Lastly, this table is of the metal fold out variety and Cassie highly doubts it's ability to hold up against laser fire. In fact, she's pretty sure the table is far more likely to melt and shower them with liquidized metal, and that way lies unpleasant things like surgery and skin grafts.
Apparently she's not the only one thinking along these lines as no sooner has Prince T'Challa been shoved down beside her than he's scrambling back up to his feet, calling to Okoye in Wakandan. She can't tell what's being said, but is willing to make some guesses. "Why the fuck are we being shot at?!" sounds about the same in most languages. It's all in the inflection really.
She can't see much, but they seem to have mostly cleared the room and gotten everyone who didn't leave in to cover. That's probably mostly due to Tony's early warnings and drone suit deployments getting everyone backed up. Bucky and Okoye are engaged in a battle that looks to be mostly about ducking and dodging as they try to get close enough to take down the... gunman? Laserist? Shooter?
Nomenclature being unclear, she'll just go with 'attacker'.
Cassie emerges right when things start to go wrong because of course she does. This is the way life works for her. Things seem to just be going bad-ish, she thinks she can take the time to analyze, and while she tries the whole thing explodes all over the place.
What happens sounds like it should be simple but in reality probably involves all sorts of complex physics she could figure out if she felt so inclined, but isn't likely to dedicate the time towards.
The man fires a laser burst at the same time that Tony fires a repulser shot and the two beams of energy collide in mid air. There, instead of one absorbing the other, the bursts fragment off each other in to a dozen tiny bolts of deadly energy and whiz outwards. The bits that hit the walls don't cause anything worse than some structural damage. The ones that shoot upwards towards the ceiling are more of a problem because the ceiling is where the light fixtures are, and those fixtures turn out to be made of brushed aluminum. Brushed aluminum is a surface off which energy, apparently, bounces.
The potential collateral damage to this situation is high enough that Cassie decides on the spot that it isn't something she can live with allowing. If you can't live with something, act to prevent it. Otherwise the consequences are at least in part your fault.
Praying to whoever might be listening that she has enough energy to actually manage this, Cassie summons her power and concentrates. A round ball of energy shoots upwards out of her raised palms, spinning and expanding as it rises until there's a thin, shining barrier of power trapping the deadly sparks of light high above the terrified bystanders and conflict below. The shield ripples like something between a solid and a gas, and Cassie flexes her outstretched fingers, spreading the protection as far as it will go.
The charges behind it seem to pop, exploding and collapsing in red and white stars, shimmering like fireworks through a heat haze. A very pretty little light show. It would be mesmerizing if it weren't so dangerous.
And it is still dangerous, imminently so. Cassie's magic isn't really geared for this sort of shield to begin with, certainly not for a prolonged amount of time. She has no natural light to channel and knows she is powering this through her own strength alone. Sweat trickles down her face and Cassie can feel her blood running hot as godly power flows, quick and deadly through her veins like high octane fuel in a combustion chamber. A taste like mint and old pennies is filling her mouth, the way it does when the power she's expending comes only from her own self and is not a channel of her father's magic.
She has to let this power go, has to let it die before it kills her.
"Hit the deck!" She shouts, and her voice seems to come out magnified and echoing to her own ears. "Now!" Thank all the gods she's listened to and the instruction is followed at speed. Tony and Bucky know she means her warnings, and T'Challa and Okoye both take a single look at her and then the light show on the ceiling before diving for the floor. Cassie waits just long enough for them to drop before she can't hold off any longer.
She wrenches her hands out and around in a wide circle, bending the energy shield upwards and around the fired charges, forming a buzzing bubble the size of a large beach ball. Her hands meet above her head, sealing the bubble as her fingers interlock. Then she drives her hands down, sending a deadly missile straight in to the ground right between the attacker's feet.
The force of the explosion knocks her back in to the table and the whole mess of their combined forms goes sprawling to the ground in a horrendous metallic clanging that kind of makes her ears bleed. Her head knocks in to the floor and it takes her a moment of blinking the immediate pain response of tears out of her eyes to gather herself. When she gets up, she does it very gingerly, trying as best she can to cater to all of her new bruises at once.
The explosion turns out not to have been too bad in terms of debris thank the gods, but there is still a massive cloud of dust and carpet fibers filling the middle of the room as a result. A fair amount of it seems to have worked its' way in to her lungs judging by the coughing she feels immediately compelled to do. Everyone in here is going to need a massive ass shower later. She thinks the fact that they're all alive probably means that they'll be okay with it.
"Every-" she tries to say, and then has to stop to cough some more. "Is everyone good?" she calls a little louder.
Tony, not unusually, is the first one to respond. "Fuck Sun Spot," he says, straightening up from the corner he had crouched in with a somewhat crunchy metallic sound that reminds her of a crumpling soda can that indicates his suit took most of the damage for him. "Where've you been keeping that?"
"In the deep dark corner with the rest of my daddy issues," Cassie says dryly as she picks her way in to the middle of the room to meet the others. The results of her little show are evidenced by a decent crater in the convention floor with their would-be assailant lying crumpled at the bottom. A quick glance at the ground confirms her suspicions that they're currently breathing in concrete chips and carpet fibers. In other circumstances, that would probably be cause for concern. "I'd talk to a therapist about it but I'd like to live my life sans straight jacket."
Okoye and T'Challa follow Tony over, demonstrably none the worse for wear. Cassie notices Okoye deliberately refolding a long and beautifully printed scarf back in to a mostly closed briefcase. There's dust all over their clothing but somehow not a speck has managed to settle in their hair. Bucky, by contrast, looks like he may have aged twenty years with the amount of grey dust settled on his head.
He's the one to duck down and examine the body in the crater. "He's alive," he concludes. He grips the man's clothes and hauls him out, laying him flat on the ground beside them.
Tony rolls his eyes. "Fantastic. Here's the sixty-four million dollar question, do we wanna keep him that way? I say, come after us and you can get wrecked. Anyone else got an opinion?"
"If he's dead we can't ask questions," Cassie points out. "I'm not an ops and info person, but that seems like it might be a relevant consideration."
She looks up at the others for confirmation or opinions and is a bit surprised when Okoye answers. "Keep him alive and immobilized," she says. "The government of Wakanda will coordinate with any required officials. We have questions for him as well."
The prince nods imperiously and Bucky shrugs. Tony sighs and begins telling FRIDAY to patch him through to Pepper to work out the administration of this situation. It appears they have a consensus so Cassie hunkers down on her knees beside the prone body.
"I'll need to fix him up a bit then," she says, a quick touch telling her that the man has an enormous mess of fractures including a few in his skull. She decides that these and the brain damage are the things to prioritize. She'll leave the rest of the fractures and burns as is. The man only needs to remember and speak. Cassie doesn't give a shit weather he's in pain or what he looks like.
The Hippocratic Oath probably has something reprimanding to say about that sentiment. She's okay with that. Cassie does have an in with Hippocrates after all. One of the few perks of godly family.
She cradles the mans' head in her hands and sends a concentrated burst of her power in to his skull, knitting the bone together and providing new blood and restorative oxygen to the crushed tissue. Normally she wouldn't perform a healing in front of virtual strangers like this. However, given the whole thing with the energy shield, the secret of her abilities seems like it might be a little bit out of the bag where the Wakandans are concerned.
To their credit, neither of them react. All she gets is a sharp and searching look from Okoye and a nod of what seems like respect from T'Challa before both of them turn away and go to work ushering all the living though shaken bystanders out of the room and towards the incoming emergency service workers. Okoye appears to be excellent at crowd management and T'Challa speaks with a voice containing the kind of reassuring authority born and bred in those who have parents who lead and expect that their progeny will do the same.
Paramedics arrive shortly and take away the unconscious body of their attacker. Cassie lists off the remaining injuries in a manner so detached she barely realizes she's speaking. She also gives the vital stats and has a dim recollection of ensuring that the lead EMT has heard her before she backs off. Everything is feeling a little bit foggy and unreal.
Black flowers bloom along the edges of her vision and everything she can see is wobbling like a dish of jello. It's very disconcerting, and Cassie is imminently aware of the fact that she should probably sit back down. That's a bit of a problem given the now semi-controlled mayhem around them as people rush around trying to get out of the room or contain the situation depending on job description.
"Bucky," she calls hopefully. She has to call. She's lost track of where he's moved to in the confusion and her vision is starting to move from wobbly to spinning.
A reassuring hand lands on her shoulder from behind. "I've got you," he says in a calm voice. "You need sun right? Lets get you out of here."
Cassie thinks she nods and lets Bucky guide her out of the building. He steers them both deftly with one hand on the back of her shoulder and the other in the middle of her back. The fact that Cassie probably looks like she's about to throw up might be helping them form a clear path.
They stop when Bucky deposits her leaning against the wall of the building in a beam of direct sunlight. The energy seeps in through her pours and Cassie feels her vision clear almost instantly. A breath or two later her entire being feels steadier and her queeziness is settling. One breath after that, and she's a bit shaky but basically normal.
"Damn," Bucky says and Cassie looks over at him to find him shaking his head as he watches her. "Don't think I'm ever gonna get used to watching that."
"I've never quite gotten used to feeling it either," Cassie admits. "It's hard to describe but... Imagine being about to pass out from battle fatigue, and then getting a shot of straight adrenaline right to the heart." She gestures around. "This is a quick fix, but not a permanent one. I'll be alright to go back inside and help a bit, and to talk to the police and get back to the hotel, but I'm gonna need some sleep, food, water, and a shit load of electrolytes."
He watches her a moment, then nods. "I think we can get that handled. One question, what was different this time? I've watched you blow shit up before and stop explosions in training. You never looked like it made you want to throw up before."
Cassie grimaces and then twists the expression in to a bitter smile. "Rules one through three of combat staging," she said. "Location, location, and location. That convention hall is a concrete box with no windows or natural lighting. I didn't have any sources to channel. All of the energy I needed to use had to come from me, and I am most definitely a finite reserve."
Bucky tips his head in acknowledgement and digs in a pocket for a few moments before coming up with a power bar of her own invention. "Here. You need it more than I do."
"Thanks."
They stay outside while Cassie eats. Bucky kills the time by flipping a butterfly knife back and forth between his fingers while watching the events unfolding in the street. He also taps at his phone screen intermittently, and Cassie hears the distinctive clicks of sending texts.
He sighs at having to text with only one hand and Cassie thinks over the problem as she crumples up the bar wrapper. "You know," she says thoughtfully. "I bet if I worked with Tony we could develop some kind of synthetic material to put on the finger pads of the metal hand. Something that would let you use touch screens with either one. I'll talk to him about it if you want."
"It can go on the list," Bucky says easily, slipping the phone back in to his pocket. "Don't put it anywhere near the top though. Aren't you busy curing cancer or something?"
They begin to make their way back inside and Bucky holds the door for her. "Not cancer yet," she corrects. "I'm looking in to treatments for autoimmune disorders first. Plus I'm developing some new migraine medications for Wanda, and a range of higher calorie easy consumption products for you, Steve, and Pietro. Speaking of Pietro, I'm already going to be working with Stark to figure out what material we can use to make him some sneakers that won't combust when he's been in them too long. I'll ask Tony about your hand then. It shouldn't be too hard, they make gloves with that kind of material already so people can use their phones when it's cold."
"You do a lot of work for us." He delivers the words with a careful neutrality that makes the comment one she can't ignore.
Cassie stops in the hallway which makes him stop too. "Despite what I can do in a fight or combat situation, that's not actually what my powers are designed for. My father is a healing god. He hunts, but that's not his main role. Teams work best when everyone does what they're best at. Steve leads, you and Sam make sure he can, Nat manages people and Sam and Rhodes know how to handle the government so they talk to Congress. Tony, Bruce, and Jane all have brilliant scientific minds so they use them. Pepper runs the company that makes our independent existence possible. If everyone else is always doing everything they can to help each other, then I will too. I'll do the biotech that makes the rest of you safer before you get to the fight."
Bucky doesn't seem to have anything to say to that and doesn't speak until they're back at the door to the convention hall. "So if everyone's fulfilling their roles in this situation, whose job is it to call Steve? For the record, I'm nominating you."
"You know Barnes," Cassie says. "Nowhere in the material in the entire Smithsonian is their one single mention about how much of a smart ass you are. I feel like I should call and correct them."
"They also neglect to mention that faking your enlistment form was actually a felony," he says, unaffected. "It also leaves out the fact that when Peggy told Steve he couldn't order her to go home after dropping him out of the plane he said and I quote, 'the hell I can't. I'm a Captain.' If people thought I could put up with that punk-ass attitude for twenty years without being a smart ass then they weren't paying any attention."
In the end, Cassie is the one to call Steve. She does it from the hotel room as she packs using hologram technology borrowed from Tony so that he can see clearly that she is really alright. Or as alright as she can be. Tony called ahead to the hotel and their had been food waiting for them in their rooms when they had arrived. After that, a shower, and a quick nap on the ride back to the hotel, Cassie honestly is feeling pretty much normal.
Tony and Bucky use her recovery time mostly to talk with T'Challa, Okoye, and the rest of the Wakandan security team. Apparently, the truly important thing about this whole experience will prove to be the friends they've made along the way. Or maybe rather allies. Well, so be it if that's the case.
Allies are useful things.
Cassie relays all of this to Steve along with her own conversation with T'Challa and the events of the day from her perspective as accurately as she can while she zips around the room making sure all of her things are collected. There's not much to collect. She hadn't stayed in the room long enough for her things to get spread out. Not that she'd brought many things anyway.
Steve makes a decent show of being calm and collected over the phone, but Cassie's willing to bet that that's because he's letting Captain America do the driving. The shell cracks a bit when Tony shouts through the wall that the jet is on the runway waiting to get them all back home. Cassie can tell because his voice shifts. More importantly, he doesn't let her leave before telling her he loves her.
"I love you too," she tells him, suddenly wishing more than anything that she could reach through the hologram and touch his cheek or give him a hug. With the Captain gone from view, he looks tired and beyond anxious. "So, so, much. We're going to go get on the jet now, and then it's just a flight and a car ride back to the Tower. You'll see me in about eight hours on the outside."
In the end, Tony pulls some strings and Bucky probably threatens a few people over the phone and they get clearance to fly their jet at speeds that only just stay under the sound barrier. In fact, Cassie can actually feel that barrier rippling and pulsing around them when the jet gets close. It creates a sensation that tugs at the back of Cassie's mind just enough to make it impossible for her to sleep. Their flight time gets cut nearly in half, so Cassie deems it worth it.
The sight of Steve waiting for them when the Tower elevator delivers them to the main team common space and the feeling of his arms wrapping securely around her is worth considerably more.
"I'm alright," Cassie says in to his ear. "Everything is completely okay."
Steve's arms tighten around her by a fraction as his head tucks down in to the crook of her neck. A breath shudders through him before he relaxes and pulls back enough to prop his forehead against hers. Next, a line of three short kisses falls from his lips to her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and her lips. "Okay,' he's murmuring. "Yeah, you're okay." He straightens up and makes himself smile. "Come back to the apartment?" he asks. "You can tell me about the rest of your trip."
Cassie grins up at him and speaks in a saccharine sing song. "Apart from that Mrs. Lincoln, did you enjoy the show?" she quotes. "Yeah, I'll give you the run down. Talk to Bucky for a bit about everything and I'll set up a slideshow. I got some nice pictures of the city. Tony and I did a great self-directed walking tour."
He glances over at Bucky and the two exchange a nod before he looks back at her. "Give me fifteen minutes?"
"Done." She pops on to her toes to kiss him, enjoying the contact too much to leave it immediately after the day she's had. "You're on the clock Captain. Have we got dinner or should I order something?"
Steve smiles. "There's sausage and broccoli rob on the stove and pasta ready to go. Bucky texted when the plane landed and told me too feed you."
"You are both officers and gentlemen," she says, looking between them. "I've always said so. Ask anyone."
Bucky frowns at her over the top of Reyna's head where the other girl still hasn't stopped hugging him yet. "Weren't you calling me a jack ass earlier?"
"Smart ass not jack ass," Cassie corrects. "Smart asses are much nicer than jack asses."
Reyna lets go of Bucky and turns towards Cassie. "I think they can be both," she says. "Smart asses and gentlemen. The U.S army made them officers."
Bucky gives a very dark chuckle. "Those idiots."
"I'm sure we've made them regret it by now," Steve says.
Confirmation of the point comes from Tony. "You did that years ago," he tells Steve. "According to my dearly departed father, the army started regretting the two of you the minute you made your unscheduled airdrop."
Steve shrugs. "Sucks for them I guess."
Tony turns to Pepper with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Please, please, in the name of all that is holy on this earth tell me that someone got those words recorded. I want to be able to play them over and over again the next time tells me I should shut up and follow government orders without question. Captain America can't be wrong."
Cassie slips out of the room smiling before she hears the reply. She's surrounded by idiots and misfits and assholes and rebels. Those are the people who have her back, the ones she can turn to no matter what. This is the extension of the family she had begun to pick for herself at age eight.
She thinks she's made good choices.
A/N: Happy Easter everyone! What did you guys think of the chapter? I know it's been ages since I posted anything new and I'm so sorry about that. I don't have a good reason for it aside from the fact that University has been nuts and will continue to be so for another month or so. I'll try to get a new chapter up some time in there but I have to admit it might not happen. Anyway, I wanted to get this posted before End Game, which by the way, does anyone else feel like they are holding a frankly unreasonable amount of emotional anxiety over this movie?! Sending positive vibes in to the universe for the mental health of anyone seeing it right when it comes out. The good news is, if people die, I'll probably fix it. My fanfic is here to give you hugs and heal our shared wounds. Anyway, review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo