It didn't matter, then, how he'd gotten there or why he was suddenly standing in front of her—all that mattered was that he was there, within reach. She fell into him, gripping the leather of his jacket tight enough to pale her knuckles, and his muscled arms were quick to wrap around her trembling frame. "Hey, shh, I've got you. What happened?" he asked, talking quietly as the side of his chin touched her right temple. "You okay? You hurt?"
Cassandra's shoulder muscles tensed as a surge of tears forced her open mouth shut, eyes squeezed tightly closed. "I-it's all my f-fault."
"You can't blame yourself for this, kid. You just can't," Logan shook his head a little. He held her as tightly as she held onto him. The comfort of seeing her unharmed physically was an enormous relief, a much-needed syringe of peace in his arm to quill the worry running rampant within his head since Charles had first made contact. Logan has refused to leave the room—pacing, listening, waiting for the call to act, instead.
Nothing else would have kept him quite so at bay. Despite his words, she continued to cry. How was she to believe them when her own heart told her otherwise? "Listen to me—Loki's a cunt, and there was no way you were goin' to know that unless he wanted you to," he continued to push it, desperate for an understanding. "And if you did, who's to say you could stop him? This was gonna happen either way, kid. What matters is what you do moving forward. You can't change the past, but you can change the future."
A strangled but instinctive laugh bubbled out of Cassandra, her forehead pressed to Logan's chest. "You sound like Charles."
Logan grunted, "Ouch. I'm right, though."
"What am I supposed to do?" Cassandra leaned away, watery eyes looking up into his in search of affirmation, of guidance. "He's too powerful—and he's bringing an army, Logan. From another realm, for god's sake!"
"You fight. We fight. There ain't a snowball's chance in hell you're doin' this alone," Logan answered, seriously. Then, with a small sigh, he tipped his head to his right, toward a hallway, in a momentary gesture. "I already brought the cavalry—well, some of it."
Cassandra's eyes were quick to shift to her left as the words fell from his lips. Just at the corner, Lori materialized, her form coming into view in quick but blotchy patches that eased their way together to form a complete visage. Over her shoulder, blue skin marked the familiar appearance of Kurt. He removed his hand from Lori's shoulder with a small and sheepish smile full of teeth. "We're here to help," Kurt said, his accent a bittersweet sound as he spoke confidently.
"We were supposed to be transport," Lori explained. "But this whole situation is getting out of control. You need more hands."
Cassandra sniffled hard and released Logan's jacket, instead moving her hands to her face in an attempt to dry her cheeks, to fix the mess her tears had undoubtedly made. "We're gonna need a lot more hands. No offense."
"None taken. The others are waiting for our call at the mansion," Lori nodded.
Logan added, "Once we know what's going on, we'll bring them in."
All Cassandra could do was nod. Though, worry did begin to creep up inside at the thought that touched her mind. What would Fury do when he found out the others had helped themselves to his helicarrier? Would he even hear them out, after what had just happened? It was incredibly dangerous, and they could not risk a two-front war with both Loki and S.H.I.E.L.D. But what other option did they have? They would simply have to be direct and pray for a better outcome.
She palmed at her cheeks a last time, exhaling deeply through her nostrils as the last of the anxious, guilty waves drained out of her stomach. It was time to put it all away now. Somewhere, she had to hide it, force it inside and lock it down. So, she swallowed it—stealing her features, she stepped back from Logan and wiped her tear-soaked palms on the fronts of her jeans. "We need to talk to Director Fury," Cassandra said, glancing at each of them. "Maybe Charles can help us track down Loki. Or, at least the Tesseract. I think I can look for it if I could broaden my range."
"Alright. Lead the way," Logan nodded.
She returned the nod and stepped around him, beginning to walk the hallway in the direction she assumed was the bridge. After being a few places, it wasn't too hard to remember which direction was North. It took subconscious focus, but it was possible, the information stored at the back of her mind for safe keeping. Logan walked beside her, eyes scanning either side of the hall and paying close attention to anyone who passed in either direction. Lori and Kurt trailed just behind them, following the direction Cassandra took, despite the anxiousness a place like the helicarrier caused.
Neither Lori nor Kurt were strangers to the insides of military installations. The armed agents, guards at doorways, the basic appearance of the interior—it was terrifying. They shared an uneasy glance but otherwise pressed forward, swallowing down the anxious urge to run as they followed, approaching the bridge. The room's morale had drastically dropped since the last time Cassandra was in it. Now, agents moved about quickly, doing this and that, but their faces were sullen. It was a more than noticeable shift.
Director Fury stood a few feet from the table when the small group entered, talking to Agent Hill with a serious expression and a hushed voice. His eye glanced twice in their direction before his head lifted to look fully. The action turned Agent Hill's head as well, and she tensed at the sight of the new passengers. Cassandra walked straight toward Fury, not stopping until she'd reached him, while Lori and Kurt came to stand along the backs of the chairs at the table. Logan remained beside her. His calm but disgruntled demeanor did not do his anger justice.
"I don't remember asking for help from the X-Men," Fury commented, dry in the mild sarcasm, his brows lowered at Cassandra. "Loki escaped with the scepter while you were making conversation with the Hulk."
Cassandra glared at the Director. "I can find your fucking cube. And Loki."
"And how do you plan to do that?" Fury questioned, skeptical but intrigued.
"Charles Xavier. He can give me a longer arm to reach with, and then I can find it through its energy signal," Cassandra explained, folding her arms over her chest. "Think about it—it's the most powerful energy source on this planet right now. It's not going to be hard to track it down."
Director Fury was taken aback by her sudden willingness to help, to do what he'd failed to ask for. Though, he raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the others she'd brought with her. "What are they going to do?"
"There's an alien army coming to invade Earth. You really think you're going to stop it with bullets?" she cocked an eyebrow, challenging.
"Fair enough," Fury sighed. "Get started. But I want to be the first to know when you've located the Tesseract."
Struggling to refrain from rolling her eyes, Cassandra raised two fingers to give a mock salute. Fury's head tilted as his expression slacked, steeling—saying, really?—but she paid no attention as she turned away, moving to face the others. Lori stepped forward, then, as her eyes shifted from the bustling agents to Cassandra's face. "Charles is ready when you are. Do you want to find a quiet place?" she asked her.
But Cassandra shook her head. "No, it's okay. We'll sit here."
Lori was disappointed she wouldn't be leaving the room full of armed government agents anytime soon, but she kept the thought to herself as she turned to slide into one of the chairs. Kurt followed suit, taking the seat next to her, closest to the wall. Cassandra reached for the backing of the chair in front of her when a male voice spoke her name. It called into her left ear, turning her head as her eyes searched for the source. Steve had just entered the room.
He walked toward her and the table, his eyes lingering cautiously on Logan—and Logan eyed him right back. Though, Logan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. S.H.I.E.L.D. brought in Captain America? It made sense now, Cassandra's quick exit during their phone call, with the male voice he'd heard sounding an awful lot like Steve's when he called her name. He wondered, briefly, why she wouldn't mention it. Was it purely for a time constraint? Or something else?
"You okay?" Steve asked Cassandra, finally meeting her eyes as he came to stand before her. "I didn't see you after the explosion."
"I'll be sore tomorrow, but I'm Fine," Cassandra shook her head, waving away the notion.
Logan cocked his head, looking down at her beside him. "Explosion?"
"We had some engine trouble," she explained it calmly, attempting to appear nonchalant about the issue, as she turned her head to see him. Then, she shifted her weight on her feet and gestured a hand between Logan and Steve. "Steve Rogers, Logan. Logan, Steve Rogers."
Steve leaned forward to hold out his hand, despite the cautionary expression still on his features, and Logan shook it with his own. "And this is Lori, and Kurt," Cassandra added quickly, pointing toward the others sitting at the table. As Steve retracted his hand from Logan's grip, he looked to where she'd pointed, and something inside him startled. Outwardly, he simply pulled his lips inward in a closed-mouthed smile and gave a nod of his head which the others reciprocated. He fought his eyes to keep them from lingering on Kurt for too long, though his appearance did intrigue him.
Clearly he was a mutant as well—but Steve wondered many things. Was he born with blue skin? What did it have to do with his abilities? Was there a reason he looked vaguely animalistic? Still, he kept them to himself. Lori smiled and gave a small wave. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. "Feel free to ask questions, and we'll try to answer them as best we can."
Cassandra pulled out her chair and lowered herself into it. "Always the educator."
"Well, I imagine this is very confusing. Knowledge wasn't exactly extensive on mutants in the forties," Lori tipped her head in a momentary expression. Logan settled into the chair at the head of the table, beside Cassandra, with a heavy sigh. Originally, his plan involved convincing Blink to simply open a portal. He would go alone and talk to Cassandra to find out what was happening. Then, the others became aware of that plan—thanks to Kurt's addiction to snooping.
Charles insisted he take others and Kurt volunteered, then Lori offered to keep them invisible to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security cameras. After all, Cassandra did say the security was 'insane' on the helicarrier. So, there he was, stuck babysitting once again. No matter how old the kids became, he would always be babysitting. After all, no one could protect them like he could. No one could make the tough decisions like he could. They would always need him.
Steve walked around the end of the table to sit just across from Kurt. Although Lori had said to ask questions, he was unsure if he truly should. He was worried the questions he had would sound worse than he'd intended them. But, despite the concern, his curiosity was spiking higher the longer he sat quietly. Clearing his throat, he rested a forearm atop the glass table. "So, what can you do?" he asked, careful in his intonation.
"I can turn myself and anything I touch invisible," Lori answered, before leaning forward, folding her arms on the table top.
Kurt was hesitant, but he answered with a dip of his head, "I am a teleporter."
"Like Cassandra," Steve noted, in realization.
"I am just a teleporter," Kurt explained, timidly. "I cannot manipulate energy as she can."
Cassandra, however, was not listening. She hadn't been since just after the conversation started. Instead, she leaned into the table top on her elbow, fingers of the same hand touched to her temple in concentration, her other hand resting palm up on the glass. Eyes screwed shut, she forced herself to concentrate. Charles existed in her mind in the form of warmth, vibration, a pulsating density at the base of her skull. In her mind, she could see it all. All that he saw, she saw, too—and wisps of lavender danced across the skin of her open palm.
The gentle arch of her fingers allowed the lavender containment. Though, Steve couldn't stop himself from eyeing the display, his features slanted with a mixture of curiosity and concern from across the table. "So...what do you do?" he asked, slowly, as his eyes hesitantly shifted away, to Logan at the end.
Logan sat slightly slouched, leaned against the backing of the chair. His eyes slid across the table, from Cassandra's face to Steve's, and he grunted. "Pretty sure if I show you in here, we're gonna get twenty-five to life."
"Knives come out of his hands," Lori sighed, rolling her eyes toward Steve.
Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Knives?"
"Metal bones," Logan corrected Lori, looking to her with the ghost of annoyance across his tired features. "It's not like my knuckles turn into steak knives after six PM."
Kurt snickered at the other end of the table, and Lori only wrinkled her nose, making a face at Logan—however brief. "Yeah, it's badass—can you guys please be quiet for a minute?" Cassandra asked, quiet but deepened with concentration as she struggled not to lose her place for the interruption.
Lori's lips spread thin as her eyes momentarily rounded in an oops expression before holding up a thumb in Cassandra's general line of sight, though her eyes were still screwed tightly shut. In her head, her vision was mapped out, energy signals glowing at various levels across the world. Thanks to Charles, she'd been able to narrow it down to the US—wherein, though, was still up for debate. The lavender wisps sparking in her palm shifted color, shimmering a darker shade of purple now as the electricity spiked, pulling hard on her gut.
She could feel it—the energy signal was tainted with the echo of the kind of power she'd felt from the scepter—but it was erratic, evasive. It shifted and moved, slipping out of her grasp. Then, finally, Tony entered the room. He sauntered in with a disgruntled expression that only worsened at the sight of the other X-Men at the table, and he let out a deep groan. "Seriously? More of them?" Stark questioned, glancing at Fury as he rounded the back of Logan's chair.
Fury only raised an eyebrow before both knitted, a glare of annoyance threatening to settle in. "I didn't invite them, Mr. Stark."
"Oh, great—they're inviting themselves now," Tony sat a chair over from Steve, dropping into the seat with a heavy sigh. As his hand scrubbed over his face, both Lori and Logan settled their heated gazes on him. Logan sat up in his chair, clasping his hands as his arms rested atop the table, and he stared. He expected nothing less than the display he was being given—then again, how casual a person could be about their hatred for others different from them never did surprise him much.
It was all the same. The same hatred, same bigotry, just different vessels carrying it through the generations. As Tony's hands fell to fold across his chest, he caught Logan's eyes, and sighed once more. "What do you want? An autograph? I'm a little busy at the moment, but I'll have my secretary pencil you in somewhere," his sarcasm was dry and ill proposed.
Something in Cassandra's gut pulled again—this time, hard enough to give her body a jolt. She startled, sitting upright as her eyes finally blinked open, and her jaw fell. The sound of Tony's voice brought forth a subconscious hatred that, unknowingly, guided her right to the source of the signal. "That's it," she realized. "Stark Tower. They're at Stark Tower."
"I'm sorry—who is at my tower?" Tony questioned, slumped in his seat with a raised brow.
"That big ugly building in New York?" Steve questioned Cassandra. He wasted no time in standing from his chair, ignoring Tony's question—and the offended expression sent his way. "You're sure?"
She nodded, pushing herself up to stand. "Selvig, Loki, the Tesseract—all of them."
"Do you have a suit?" Steve asked the question as he rounded the end of the table, taking steps toward her side and, eventually, the door. When she nodded once more, he continued, "It's time to put it on."
Logan, Lori, and Kurt all stood up from the table. It was then that Fury approached, Hill just behind him. "I know none of you signed up for this...but we'll take any help we can get," he said, his eye predominantly on Logan. However genuine the Director seemed, Logan was skeptical, staring back at the man with squared shoulders.
"Whoever helps gets immunity," Logan told Fury. "That's the only way we bring the real backup."
Fury gazed thoughtfully for a brief, quiet moment. Although he didn't have any intention of denying Logan's request, he wasn't about to make it seem easy—especially not with Tony Stark around. He'd never hear the end of it. So, he waited a beat before replying, using a somewhat begrudged tone. "Fine. But there can be no unnecessary funny business, understand? Do what needs to be done, report back, and go home."
Logan nodded once, biting his tongue. "Deal."
Cassandra was side-stepping, bent to the left to look beneath the table, trying to track down her duffel bag. She'd left it here, before all hell broke loose. However, that hell included explosions and a tilted aircraft—so, it was highly unlikely to be in the same spot as before. But she didn't expect it to be so far gone. "This yours?" Agent Hill was suddenly beside her, pulling her eyes from the floor with her interruption. The agent held up a hand, clutching the strap of her duffel. "I saw you bring it in, so I grabbed it after things settled down."
"Thanks," Cassandra gratefully took the bag from her, pulling the strap onto her shoulder. Agent Hill only nodded and turned on her heel, before walking back toward the stairs, as Fury returned to his spot by the railing. As Logan faced Cassandra, she gestured with the bag. "I'm gonna get changed and check on Clint."
"We'll fill in the others. Be careful," Logan replied.
There was no hiding his caution. Here, on the helicarrier, they were all one rude comment and a high-ranking agent's bad day away from dissection. Now more than ever, discretion was survival. She nodded a little, "You, too." And he returned the nod. Cassandra then moved for the exit. As she walked, she planned—recalling the path she'd taken to the bathroom. Then, the path to Clint's room. Her feet—carrying shaking muscles and unsteady balance—moved quickly, bringing her to the small bathroom, where she locked herself inside.
Cassandra had been in many positions where getting dressed could only take a few seconds. Even after all this time, it was muscle memory, guiding her hands and feet into the leather. Fingers pulled the zipper up to her neck, before tugging boots on her feet. She tucked her duffel beneath the sink, slipping her phone inside—and then she was out. As she left the bathroom, she started to jog. The infirmary room wasn't too far from the bridge. Though, the anxiety pushing her to move faster was still there, commanding her.
Agents passing moved at normal speed now. It seemed the time for emergency protocols had passed. She imagined she stuck out like a sore thumb, the only one running like nothing had been resolved, in the briefest of thoughts. Then, she rounded the final corner. Slowing her pace to a quickened walk, she approached the door, and her hands trembled. All the reasons why she'd left the room were threatening to creep back inside. Genuinely, she wanted to see her brother. But her gut twisted at the thought of resentment—a worry present despite its lack of probability.
The door hissed open. She stood still as her eyes landed on an empty bed. Agent Romanoff sat perched on the side, near the end of it, and she twisted to see the door at the sound of Cassandra's entry. "Did we find him?" Romanoff asked, eyeing the leather suit clinging to Cassandra's form.
"I did," Cassandra corrected her with a nod. "Do you know how to pilot one of those jets?"
Then, from the left, "I can."
Clint's voice was like a rush of warm water down her back, turning her head almost immediately in his direction as he exited the small bathroom. Her heart faltered in her chest, relief and guilt filling her eyes all the same, and she swallowed hard. "You can't—you need to rest," she shook her head quickly. But Clint continued out of the bathroom and stepped toward her, coming closer than they'd been in months.
"What I need to do is protect my family—you, Laura, the kids, Barney. They're all in danger with Loki still out there, and there's only one way this ends," he told her, quiet but certain. Cassandra's shoulders stiffened as her eyes shifted over his shoulder, down to Agent Romanoff. Clint gave a small shake of his head, "She knows."
The corner of Agent Romanoff's mouth tugged up in a small, knowing smile. It was a momentary relief. Though, Cassandra's eyes were on Clint's again in a heartbeat, tilting her head in an expression. "This ends with an energy blast through Loki's chest. That's my job. If something happens to you, then who's going to protect your family? It's safer here-"
"Cassandra, hey, stop," he interrupted her calmly, placing gentle hands on the sides of her shoulders. Her fingers fidgeted anxiously at her sides, making a fist and relaxing in an attempt to feel busied, to ignore the ache beginning to burn within her chest. Clint looked down at her in silence for a moment. She was worse for wear, visibly tired with crinkles at the corners of her eyes from pain and stress. Still, he hadn't seen his sister's face in far too long. He needed to look at her, to convince the rest of his brain to stay here, to anchor it where it belonged. "You're my family. If we do this, we do it together."
With a trembling sigh, Cassandra fell forward, her forehead meeting his chest as her arms snaked around his torso. Clint wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held on tight. It was a brief moment of peace, though it was hard not to feel the tangible danger looming. The threat that crept up at their backs, anticipation of a strike driving anxiety into their chests, but they needed this moment. A little bit of warmth before it was all taken away. It was interrupted by the sound of the door hissing open behind Cassandra.
She pulled away instinctively, twisting to see the doorway as Steve ducked his head in. Shoulders clad in blue, a white star on his chest, he was ready to dive head first into danger. But hesitation danced across his features as his eyes settled on Clint and Cassandra. "Sorry to interrupt. We need to go," he told Cassandra, apologetically.
"Where are we going?" Natasha asked, as she stood from the bed. She stepped up beside Clint as Cassandra turned to better see Steve at the door.
"We'll tell you on the way," Steve replied. Then, he looked to Clint, "You got a suit?"
Clint nodded, a corner of his mouth curved up. "Yeah. Not as fancy as Cass's, but I got one."
"If fancy means old and slightly too small," Cassandra wrinkled her nose.
"At least yours wasn't designed in the forties," Natasha smirked, before tilting her head in a gesture. "Let's get to the armory."
