Author's Note: This chapter title comes from The Lorax by Dr. Seuss.

Chapter Four - Unless someone like you cares (nothing is going to get better)

"I could help."

Thor and Steve abruptly stopped their conversation at her interruption and looked up as if they hadn't even realized she was there. Steve blinked. "What?"

"Thor said that the original plan was to secure the Tesseract. That it could power his return to Asgard, right?" She tilted her head to the side. "I mean, I figure I could learn how to control it long enough to power a machine to send you back, right?"

Steve hesitated. "Danielle, I'm not sure that's—"

"Would you be willing to attempt such a bold deed, Daughter of Iron?" Thor asked, his entire being lighting up. "Returning myself and my brother to our home realm would be most beneficial for everyone."

She shrugged. "I could give it a shot. Hell, I can even help out with the machine. You said magic was like science, right? Hopefully you understand enough of your brand of science to help me out with my brand." She shoved up from the couch and moved for the elevator. "We can get started in my workshop."

Thor followed eagerly but Steve shook his head. "Tony isn't going to like this."

"Tough luck," she shouted just before the elevator doors closed.

Thor was practically bouncing with energy at her side. "I cannot thank you enough. And I would love to share my knowledge with you if you believe it would help. Any knowledge you might need."

"Great." She clapped her hands once as they walked into the workshop and the lights came on. Danielle snatched up a notebook and pen and threw herself onto her futon. "Let's start with the basic theory of what you need done, then."

Danielle was bent over the machine, soldering the last piece into place after eight days of long work struggling to understand a whole new world of galactic physics, when the door to her workshop slammed open and her father started yelling. "What the hell are you thinking! Absolutely not! And how could you go behind my back like this and—"

"Take a deep breath," she interrupted firmly, crossing her arms and turning to face him. "I won't talk to you when you're yelling like a three-year-old."

His glare was biting. "You're not powering that machine."

"Actually, I've already talked to SHIELD and Thor's going home tomorrow."

"It's dangerous."

She squinted at him. "I have an ancient power cube stuck in my body. I'm honestly not sure it gets more dangerous than that. Besides, what do you want to have happen instead? Thor never getting to go home? Loki a constant threat? Because you know that SHIELD isn't good enough to hold him forever."

"I won't let you do this."

"And how do you plan on stopping me?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "You could lock me in my room, but you can't keep me there forever. You could destroy the machine, but I've already got it all memorized up here." She tapped her forehead. "You can delay this, but you can't stop it."

He stared her down for a long moment and there was something desperate in his gaze. "Dani, please."

"I've gotta do something," she mumbled. "I took the Tesseract away from him. I took Thor's only way home. I wanna fix that. That's what you and I do, right? We're mechanics; we fix things."

He kept staring. He stared to the point that Danielle shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. And then he cleared his throat and straightened. "That's right," he murmured. "Um, tell me about the machine."

She was staunchly refusing to look at Loki as she set up the machine and explained the basic plan to Thor. When she finished, she glanced over her shoulder at where she knew the SHIELD van was—far away on the opposite side of the large field, just in case she couldn't control the Tesseract well enough. Danielle took a deep breath. "Alright. Ready?"

"Very much so," Thor said solemnly. "Thank you for your help." He adjusted the machine so that Loki was holding one handle.

Danielle glanced up at the second man for a moment before quickly tearing her gaze away before she could focus on him. "Alright. I hope this helps. And . . . you're sure that the extra power will be enough to fix the Bifrost?"

"Yes, young one. At the very least, it will get us to the point in the repairs where we can finish it on our own. Please do not stress." Thor reached out and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. "All will be well."

She managed a smile. "Thanks, Thor," she murmured. Then she cleared her throat and straightened, pressing her palm against the machine. "Here goes."

Danielle closed her eyes and for a brief moment focused on Bruce's instructions from their meditation sessions. She let herself sink into the heat bubbling underneath her skin. She grabbed it firmly and pulled. Pain lanced across her bones and she hissed between her teeth but, goddammit, she was a Stark and Starks didn't give up. So she braced herself and forced that burning heat to the forefront.

Something loud snapped over to her left but she resolutely ignored it, focusing purely on the machine. Focusing on it as she poured everything she could into it. Focusing on it as it came to life and began humming beneath her fingers. She kept pushing and pushing and pushing until—

Danielle staggered back with a gasp and her eyes snapped open. Blue was fizzling around her hand like electricity and she shuddered at the shockwaves it was sending up her arm. But then she managed to focus on the blue glow past it just in time to see Thor give her one final grin. Then he twisted the handle on the machine.

Blue exploded outward and she felt something not quite there hit her chest and fling her to the ground. Danielle shook her head to clear the ringing in her ears and the spots in her vision. With a gasp, she struggled to her feet. As she turned, the tall oak off to the east caught her attention and she stared.

It was split clean up the middle and the leaves were all burnt to a crisp.

"Dani?"

She jerked in surprise and looked up to find that Tony was standing in front of her, brow creased in worry. "Oh," she mumbled. "Dad. Hi."

He reached out and looped an arm around her shoulders. "Alright, let's get you home and down for a nap. How does that sound?"

"A nap sounds great," she said blearily, leaning against him for support. "I might just fall asleep right now."

He stooped down and grunted with effort as he lifted her into his arms. "Go ahead. I've got you."

She awoke to the sound of people arguing over Castle Crashers.

"You're an archer!" Steve was yelling. "How are you missing?"

"It's not the same!" Clint wailed. "I'm trying, but the trajectories here are all fucked up. Besides, you're not exactly doing a great job with your club, big guy."

Danielle yawned and struggled to open her eyes blearily. She pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes.

"Good morning, Goose!"

She froze, immediately recognizing the voice. "Rhodey?" she asked incredulously, looking around through the haze over her eyes. "Where are you?"

She was tapped on the nose. "Right here. Can't see?"

"Um, it's a little blurry," she mumbled. She rubbed her eyes again. She managed to focus in on him and blinked rapidly, his outline becoming more clear. "Hi, Rhodey. What are you doing here?"

"Finally got leave to come back and check up on my favorite goddaughter." He dropped onto the couch next to her, curling an arm around her and pulling her to him.

"I'm your only goddaughter," she said, easily pressing up against him. "I missed you."

He hummed in response for a moment. "Sounds like you've had a lot going on while I've been gone. How are you feeling?"

Danielle just shrugged and burrowed into him. "Nightmares."

"That's . . . not exactly an answer."

"I know," she said, but it was the only answer she could put together.

That night, she went to bed in the Hulk Cage instead of her own room.

"I didn't know you played."

Danielle hit the wrong note and jumped in surprise. The lamp off to her left flickered. She looked up to find Clint standing in the doorway. He managed to look chagrined and offered her a goofy smile. "Didn't mean to surprise you."

She cleared her throat and turned back to the piano. "I play a lot of things, but piano will always be my favorite." She backed up a few lines, gaze flicking across the music, and started the piece again. "Do you play?"

"Naw. I prefer my bow," he said, leaning against the piano and staring down at the keys.

She paused again, glancing up. "You ever tried a harp? Seems like it'd be right up your alley."

His gaze flicked to the harp in the corner of the room. "You play that too?"

She hummed a noncommittal noise and pushed herself to her feet. "It's curved wood and a string. Well, strings. But you're familiar with something like that already."

He gave her a deadpan expression. "Are you comparing my baby to a harp?"

She shrugged and sat down on the stool in front of the instrument. She grazed her fingers across the strings and easily drifted into a string rendition of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro. "How's your head?"

He knocked on his temple with his knuckles and grinned. "Still on my shoulders."

She glanced up, still absently playing, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Loki was in your head far longer than he was ever in mine. I didn't even end up hurting anyone and I still have nightmares."

Something shuttered closed in his expression. He cleared his throat. "So teach me about this harp," he said, dragging over her cajon to sit down on. "I bet ten bucks I'll have it mastered in a week."

"Five hundred says you won't."

"Five— I don't have that kind of money," he squawked. "Goddamn rich kids."

"Ten bucks is chump change."

"Fine. Fifty."

"Hundred."

"Seventy-five."

"Deal."

"Happy birthday!" Danielle announced loudly, hefting the large box that it'd taken an embarrassingly long amount of time to wrap towards him. "Mine next!" She shoved her gift to the front, watching as it knocked aside the previous presents.

"Aw, Nerf guns," Clint pouted, watching as the toy weapons he'd given Steve were pushed aside.

"Shush," Danielle silenced him. "Open, Steve."

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing as he tore off the wrapping paper. He ignored the scissors Natasha held out to him and ripped open the box.

"Jesus, Rogers," Tony muttered from his spot on the couch, engrossed in the designs on his StarkPad. "No respect for the packaging."

But Steve was too focused on the contents to listen. "Wow," he managed weakly.

"It's the same type of supplies I use for my art," she said, rocking back and forth in excitement. "You mentioned you used to do a lot of art, but I haven't seen you doing anything. I realized you didn't really have anything. Um . . . . There's pencils, charcoal, watercolors, canvases, pastels—"

"Holy shit, kiddo," Clint interrupted. "You're spoiling him. Captain's gonna get a big head."

"Chill, Barton, you'll get your turn come your birthday."

"I better. No way I'm getting passed over in favor of Rogers." He turned to Steve, who was busy studying the contents of the box. "So? Cake?"

"I wish you guys didn't have to go."

"Well I, for one, am happy to finally get away from you," Clint said as he tossed his duffle bag into the back of the car and turned a tired grin to her.

She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. "Suck my dick, Barton!"

"Whoa, hey, language," Steve reproached, though he looked more amused than anything.

She glanced at him and offered up, "Suck my cock?"

"That— No. That's not really any better." He sighed a dragged a hand through his hair. "Besides, Bruce will still be hanging around here."

"Yeah, but Bruce doesn't scream obscenities when he hits a banana in Mario Kart," she pointed out. "Besides, I don't think I could ever convince Bruce to help me put Kool-aid in your shower head."

His gaze narrowed. "That was you?"

She shrugged. "Me and Clint." With that said, she clapped him on the shoulder and offered up a salute to Clint, who was pouting at her. "Have fun on the drive!" She turned on her heel and strode into the elevator. "Workshop, J."

"Of course. What will be working on today?"

"Let's go back to Project NB. I might as well do something useful."