11. Broken and Fallen
The Sandman knew everyone on Earth. Well, at least he knew a little bit about everyone. He knew them through dreams, and everyone dreamed in some form. So he also knew something about the Radioactive Man, whose real name was Chen Lu. He knew about the darkness in his dreams. The darkness that he had only sometimes managed to chase away. He knew a little bit of the man's experiments and aspirations. He hadn't, however, expected them to lead to this kind of… destruction.
Sandy mentally shook his head in disappointment. Nuclear technology was problematic enough when people tried to use it productively. And this… man he was now fighting? It was just ridiculously unsafe to everyone. He was not going to just sit idly by and let the man do whatever he pleased with his powers. The Radioactive Man was flung against a tree when Sandy finally let him go, and the tree started shedding its now crispy brown leaves when the man got back up. Sandy didn't give him time to properly get back into the fight. He zipped through the air, his trusted dreamsand gathering into whips. He lashed out. His attack was stopped by the air.
Sandy blinked. The Radioactive Man smiled, protected behind an almost solid layer of… a field of some sort, one that Sandy's attack hadn't got through. Okay, that was interesting. What else did the man have up his sleeve?
A green hand shot up, palm directed at Sandy, and a blast of concussive energy hit Sandy in the face.
The Sandman considered himself a calm, pleasant person. And most people agreed with that. However, most people also agreed that the Sandman was also a very calm, deadly person when provoked into a real fight. He raised his hands, and very calmly drowned his opponent in sand. When the man refused to stay down, and instead charged at him with a series of heated energy blasts, he very collectedly met every single attack with either a quick dodge or a blow of his own. The Radioactive Man was strong, but he was not the most experienced of fighters. Sandy saw it almost immediately. Still, he couldn't underestimate the man. Novice fighters were always the most unpredictable ones.
A blast grazed Sandy's shoulder, scorching it. Sandy spun in the air to avoid the next blast and wrapped one of his whips around the green man's arm in a swift flick of his wrist. His other whip snagged the man's leg, and with a couple of more swings of his arms, the man was flung aside again. He hit the ground with a grunt, and looked up with something Sandy could interpret as fascination.
"I have never met a humanoid creature who can withstand my radiation so well," he said, "You are a very interesting specimen."
Sandy frowned slightly. He hadn't been referred to as a "specimen" before, but he decided at once that he didn't like it. He formed a ball of dreamsand and prepared to throw it. A flash of green light made him squint, but it was nothing compared to the light he'd had to stare into during the years he'd spent taming stars in space. What did feel much worse, however, was a radiation blast that hit him in the chest. This one was sharper and burned worse than the ones that had hit him before. Sandy faltered and was pushed back until his back hit the ground. Odd, he didn't remember flying downwards. He was up quickly, but shakily. Something was not right here. Sandy slowly looked down, and saw a gaping hole in his chest.
"Not so invulnerable after all," said the Radioactive Man, a satisfied smile in his voice.
Bruce Banner woke up to a pained scream. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw a huge man towering over the hunched form of Jack Frost. The man was holding two sticks in his hands, and it took a while until Bruce realised the sticks were two halves of the shepherd's crook Jack always carried around. Bruce stood up gingerly, but could only take a single step before a force field stopped him. Bruce raised his hand and touched the wavering air. That's right, he had been captured. But… what was Frost doing here? And… was that an unconscious Steve Rogers in the corner? Bruce had a lot of catching up to do.
Jack charged at his opponent, which seemed like a bold move seeing how he was unarmed and the strange man was at least thrice as big as he was. The man looked at the boy oddly and easily dodged the punch and kick the frosty boy sent his way. The next punch got through, though, and Bruce caught a glimpse of an icicle the size of a baseball bat that shattered against the man's skull. The mountain of muscle shook his head and struck out with the halves of the staff, and Jack had to duck under them. One of the halves struck the wall with such force that the wood splintered. Jack gasped in apparent pain, and for a while Bruce didn't know why. Then the man ripped the halfway broken piece of the staff off, and Jack fell to his knees, from where he was immediately knocked on his side. It all clicked together in Bruce's mind, then. The staff had to be connected to Jack more closely than Bruce had thought. Bruce punched the force field and only ended up bruising his knuckles. He looked up. The field was too small for him to transform inside, and he doubted that even the Other Guy could smash through energy like this. It wasn't exactly physical. Still, he couldn't just sit here while people were getting beat up right next to him!
The giant of a man stomped on Jack's shoulder, turning him forcefully on his back. Jack yelped. It just seemed to anger the man even more
"You humiliated me, and then stole from me! But I will triumph here! Now, Frosti… Where. Is. My. Weapon?!"
He was punctuating each word in the end with a firm stomp, and ended his little rant by cracking the staff once more. Jack was screaming by that point, and Bruce wasn't just angry. He was furious.
"You son of a bitch!" he whispered. Then he roared. His muscles started twitching the way they always did before the transformation. Force field or not, he was not going to watch this any longer. Bruce felt his head hitting the topmost point of the spherical force field. Then his mind started to cloud over with a red haze. He raised his arm and hit the field as hard as he could with the extremely limited space he had. He didn't get through, but that didn't mean he would quit now. The other angry giant certainly didn't seem to be going to quit any time soon. The Hulk punched the field again.
Tony felt slightly uncomfortable in his current situation. Being almost sandwiched between Fury and Santa Claus while they walked along a corridor would probably have that effect on pretty much anyone. It didn't help that both of said men were casting him either cold or impatient looks. It was especially chilling – pun maybe intended – coming from the jolly Father Christmas, and Tony figured it had a lot to do with the fact that he had said some not so well thought out things to the kid, whom Santa Claus seemed to have adopted or something. Tony tried to cover up his discomfort by focusing intently on the small holographic screen that followed him thanks to a wrist computer he had on. He had called some of his best suits that were already finished and deployed them towards the place that Sandman had pointed out to them. His hands were itching to get to pilot one first hand again. But he had promised not to. But maybe…
No. Things were still relatively under control. Just because Tony would have wanted to be there to punch the living daylights out of the bastard who had ordered those weirdos to blow up his tower didn't mean he could forget that he was currently a part of a team. And it was – for the most part – working too. The team. Not the forgetting part.
Fury stopped at a room that probably functioned as the local command centre. Tony and Santa Claus were left in the corridor for a few moments when Fury told them to stay put and barged in to bark orders.
Crap.
This was going to be incredibly awkward.
"You should not have upset Jack," Santa Claus said almost immediately after they'd been left alone.
Tony refused to look up, but he felt a rather poignant stare at the side of his head.
"I was just being curious," he said, painfully aware of how defensive he sounded, "Yeah, it wasn't the best thing I could have said, and I'm sorry. Can we maybe forget about it now?"
"I hope so. But you need to forget it too."
"What?" Tony couldn't help looking up this time, "I'm the one who suggested it!"
Santa Claus crossed his arms. The tattoos on them were still something Tony had a hard time connecting with Santa Claus for crying out loud. It was just one of the things that made the Guardians so surreal.
"I appreciate curiosity," Santa said, "but sometimes it can get too much."
"Hey, I wouldn't have this many questions if you guys helped me understand you a bit better."
Santa looked mildly confused under the beard and bushy eyebrows.
"What is there to understand? We protect children. We make them happy. That is it."
"Really? That's all indestructible spirits with amazing powers can do?"
Santa suddenly looked very solemn.
"We have limits too. We haven't come this far without work… and sacrifice."
He sighed. Tony's hologram went to sleep mode, forgotten.
"There is much you don't know about us, Mr. Stark," Santa said quietly, "So kindly save your judgement. We fight, and we work, just like you. And sometimes we die, but that… is different."
"How?"
Santa frowned.
"Because we are more magic and less… solid stuff. We stay in ideas. But ideas can fade or be forgotten. Or corrupted. Or… get lost on their own."
"That doesn't tell me anything useful."
"I know," there was an almost smug look on Santa's face, "Why would I tell you if we really can be destroyed? Bad for mystery."
With that, Santa walked right into the command centre, and left Tony alone in the corridor. Santa wasn't kicked back out, but it was probably just because he was invisible to almost everyone in the room.
"Well, thanks for nothing," Tony huffed at the empty corridor.
Jack didn't know how many pieces his staff had been broken to by now. He didn't know how many times the royally ticked off Executioner had hit him or even how many of his bones were now cracked. Okay, well, his bones were probably intact, actually. Physical damage was usually negligible to him. Still, he could taste blood in his mouth and all physical pain was magnified by the pain of his broken staff that seemed to fracture his very being, so one couldn't blame him for overestimating the damage. At least he could still breathe. Moving was another matter, though.
Another kick, this time to his stomach. He coughed and curled up, and tried to focus his almost completely blackened vision. He had to get to the force field console and free Bruce. Or at the very least he had to get Steve awake so Steve and Bruce could escape. But how could he get to the console if he couldn't even move? A snap clouded his mind when yet another piece was forcibly ripped from the staff, and by extension, him. He tried to stifle the groan that built up in his throat, but it got through anyway.
"Still alive, Frosti?" the Executioner said almost emotionlessly, "Can you even die at all?"
Jack forced a bloodied grin on his face, despite the pain.
"No," he managed to say, "You can't… kill me like… this."
The Executioner nodded and stepped forward. Jack tried to squirm away, but the pain stopped him. His hand brushed a discarded piece of his staff, and he grabbed it even though it didn't make him feel any more confident in his ability to win.
"I welcome the challenge," the man said, reaching down and gripping Jack's neck.
Jack was lifted up, and he reflexively clutched at the arm that had a death grip on him. He couldn't breathe, and boy, did he hate that. He kicked the man's muscled torso to no avail, and frost spread from his fingertips over the man's hands out of sheer discomfort. It did nothing, but it did give him an idea that managed to pierce the haze of pain and suffocation. The man's skin was much tougher than that of humans, but even he still had blood and water in him. Jack channelled his coldness into the man's hand, under his skin, and then forced the freezing water to form spikes.
The Executioner roared in surprise and pain, and Jack was flung to the floor, where he had enough consciousness left to keep rolling even when he should have stopped, and he kept it up until his back hit the console that had been his goal all along. The Executioner was clutching his wrist, and through his now lumpy skin poked nasty looking icicles that made Jack himself feel a little sick.
Desperate times and all… sorry about that, big guy.
He reached up and grabbed the console's edge, dragging himself up. He saw Steve stirring in the corner, and not a moment too soon. Jack pushed what he had before deduced to be the Unlock button, and the screen flared to life.
"Insert password"
"Oh you've got to be kidding…" Jack whispered. He lifted the shard of staff that was still in his hand, and stabbed it right through the screen.
The force field stuttered before some kind of backup kicked in, but by that time it was already too late. A pair of heavy feet slammed against the floor, and Jack could see a green form springing at the Executioner. Alarms blared to life, and Jack slumped limply on the floor, finally succumbing to the pain and injuries. He knew it wasn't over, and that he should keep moving, but it all felt too difficult. He just wanted to sleep, and to somehow block away the feeling of being shattered and on fire from the inside. His vision blurred completely now, and he didn't have the strength to fight the darkness anymore.
The Taskmaster didn't like his current situation. True, it was better than sitting in a cell, waiting for the Director or someone else to question him again. It was better than knowing he'd most likely been abandoned and not been paid, and being unable to do much about it at the moment. But merely being out of his cell was a very hollow victory when he realised that the base he was in was rather airtight and no one got in or out without someone knowing about it. Not that he had expected anything else, really. Still, it was frustrating.
Because the place was riddled with cameras, he had had to commandeer an agent's uniform. That too complicated things. If someone found the agent's body before he could get away, the place would surely be on high alert. It was clear that the people around him were already working furiously because they were under attack – thanks to the Baron, no doubt – but so far their attention wasn't so much in the internal security of the base. They had so much trust in their systems even after he had waltzed into their weapons caches with his expired agent codes not too long ago.
The people were getting agitated. Not really in the general sense of the word. Their steps were just a bit more brisk than needed, even for organised agents who knew where to go. Something was happening again. The Taskmaster watched from his inconspicuous corner when a group of uniformed people stormed past him. A quick dig through his memory of the place told him that they were heading towards a small hangar S.H.I.E.L.D. had hidden away in the bunker. That possibly meant that they were also getting out of this place. The Taskmaster thought about it for a second and then joined the group, keeping his head low but not suspiciously so. No one paid him any attention. These people were clearly in a hurry. When they got into the hangar and started loading up into a helicopter that had been prepared for take-off, the Taskmaster dared to smile internally at his luck. And when the helicopter took off, the Taskmaster could overhear that it had been called by Captain America himself. Well, that could make things more complicated. But at least he was out of the base. Now all he had to do was wait for his chance and then seek out the Baron. He could still turn this mess around if he played his cards right.
Steve coughed, fighting the urge to throw up. He felt absolutely horrible, but by the looks of things it was the last thing he should be worried about right now. The force field around Bruce had apparently gone down at some point, and Bruce – no, the Hulk – had launched himself at the beefy Asgardian. The two were now engaged in a fist-fight that was quickly turning into a beatdown. The Hulk was clearly not in the mood to be gentle. Not that he ever was. The Asgardian man's face quickly twisted into surprise and then into the kind of expression that said Oh, crap! Pardon his French. At the moment Steve wasn't feeling well enough to censor his thoughts. Steve pulled himself gingerly to his knees and looked around. The place was in shambles, and pieces of electronics cluttered the floor. There were also pieces of a wooden stick scattered around the place. Steve frowned at them in confusion until he recognised them as pieces of Jack's staff. Speaking of…
Someone groaned. Steve looked up and saw Jack Frost curled up in a very pitiful ball, resting near the console. So he'd been the one to free Hulk, but at what cost? Even at this distance Steve could see that Jack was definitely not well. Steve got back to his feet and limped to the prone boy as quietly as he could. Not that the Executioner could pay much attention to anything other than the green giant that was now pummelling him and smashing his head repeatedly against the wall. Steve crouched next to Jack and out of habit turned him properly to his side and checked his airways first. He was breathing, but it was far too shallow to Steve's liking. Dark blood had trickled down his face from a cut on his forehead. His right eye was black and swollen almost shut. The other eye was still open, though, and looked at Steve with clear relief.
"Jack?" Steve said quietly, "Can you hear me?"
Jack nodded slowly. Then he coughed and winced in pain.
"Th-the… Exec… Ex… that guy… is he still…?"
Steve looked over his shoulder and saw the Hulk smashing the now unconscious-looking man face-first into the floor and stomping on his head. Then, with the threat dealt with and frustrations vented, the green giant seemed to calm down. Hopefully.
"I don't think he's going to be fighting for a while," Steve said, turning to watch again as the Hulk spun to face to them, "Hey, Bruce! I think I need a doctor here!"
Jack coughed again.
"No… just… I'll be fine…"
The Hulk growled and took a threatening step forward.
"Oh no," Steve whispered, "No, no, not now. Hey, buddy, calm down! The threat's been dealt with."
The Hulk wasn't listening. He stomped towards them with only mild hesitation. Steve positioned himself between the Hulk and Jack, even though he knew that he would stand no chance in his current condition. Or probably in any condition for that matter.
"Bruce!" Steve said, "Listen, this is a really bad time! Just… please, calm down. We're friends. You don't want to hurt us."
Another step towards them. Steve clutched his shield and prepared himself.
There was a splash of snow, and then sparkles in the air. The Hulk halted, hesitated, and looked at the snowflakes that now tumbled around him. Then he slowly looked at Jack Frost, who was on his knees in a rather pained huddled position. Despite the obvious discomfort, the kid grew another snowball in his hand and threw it at the Hulk. And then another followed. And another. Just when Steve was about to point out that throwing things at the giant rage monster was not in fact a good idea, the Hulk's face twitched into a strange grimace that… might have been a smile? The green man diminished. Steve held his breath when Bruce Banner took over again. Bruce coughed and actually laughed happily for a split second before he seemed to realise what was going on. He looked at Steve with tired yet wide eyes.
"I… I'm so sorry," Bruce muttered. He brought his hands to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, his shoulders slumping in apology.
"It's okay," said Jack in a quiet voice, "No… no one got hurt."
"Yeah. And you saved us from that guy," Steve said, "We can maybe blame ourselves for possible mistakes later. I'm sure we're not alone in this place. And Jack needs first aid."
"I told you… I'm fine," Jack insisted and didn't sound convincing at all.
"You said that the last time you looked this bad and you weren't fine," Steve said and pushed Jack back down by the shoulder when the kid tried to stand up, "I was really hoping this kind of thing wouldn't happen again on my watch."
"That makes two of us then," Jack wheezed, "Can you… can you get my… my staff?"
Steve looked at the pieces all over the room.
"Uh… It's broken."
"Trust me, I know," Jack winced again and his bruised hand came to clutch at his chest, "Just… get the pieces here… all of them… please…"
"Hey, Jack!" Steve shouted, looking with alarm when Jack's good eye slid shut too, "Don't do this again!"
"Come on, let me see him," said Bruce and crouched next to Steve a bit unsteadily, "You can get the staff."
"What?" Steve said, "I… okay?"
"It's obviously important to him. And when the big guy," Bruce cast a hateful look at the thoroughly beaten up Executioner, "broke it, Jack was clearly in pain."
Steve quickly sprung to action, ignoring his own nausea and called S.H.I.E.L.D. for pick-up while he searched. They didn't have much time. In fact, it was a wonder the soldiers in the base hadn't already found them. The alarms were still blaring, and Steve tried to block the sound or at least fade it into the background. Steve gathered all the pieces of ancient wood he could find. The pieces were still cold in his hands, dead and darkened. He returned and saw that Bruce had turned Jack onto his back and was now feeling along the boy's ribcage.
"Ow!" Jack hissed, "Stop that!"
"I'm just trying to see if there are any broken ribs," Bruce said with forced calm, "I can't believe you're still intact at all. Just lay still."
"No! I need to…" Jack took a deep, rattling breath, "fix my staff… Then it'll be… I'll be fine."
Steve let the pieces clatter mournfully on the floor right next to Jack and glanced at the door. Judging by the organised footsteps, someone – a lot of someones – would burst through soon enough. The alarms were starting to hurt his head.
"Whatever you need to do, do it quick. We have to leave as soon as we can."
Jack got up to his knees, despite the obvious pain of moving, and started arranging the pieces into the shape of the shepherd's crook. The rumble of footsteps was getting louder. Steve staggered towards the door, but then had to stop when the ground tilted and the next thing he knew, he was on his knees, retching and emptying his stomach. What was wrong with him?
"Steve, get back here," Bruce said, "You're in no condition to fight those guys either."
Steve looked at Bruce, who had left Jack to work on the staff and come to crouch by his side.
"If they get here before we can leave-" Steve started hoarsely.
"So we'll just start running now," said Bruce, "Come on, I'm pretty sure what you have is some serious radiation poisoning. That other green guy was here, wasn't he? We need to get both you and Jack treated quickly."
"I called our base. Our transport should be here in a minute or two," Steve replied, standing up on shaky legs, "How's Jack? We need to move."
Jack had gritted his teeth and was clutching two pieces of the staff and pressing them together. Blue light flashed in the crack between the pieces, spreading through them and fixing – or more like healing – the staff on its way. Jack took a deep breath and moved on to the next part, putting every piece back together until he had an almost intact shepherd's crook again. His shoulders slumped, and let out the breath he'd probably been holding for the entire fixing process. He reached for the final piece with considerable difficulty.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked.
"I will be soon enough," Jack said, "Thanks."
"No, thank you for the rescue," corrected Bruce, "So, do you know the way out of here?"
"Yeah," Steve said weakly and pointed, "It's right through…"
Almost at the exact moment when Steve said "through", the door near them burst open, and the soldiers behind it opened fire without asking any questions. Steve put his shield up, and Jack sprang to his feet, the two pieces of his staff in his hands. Steve felt a couple of bullets hitting his shield, but the rest never even made it to him or Bruce. Jack's body jerked a few times, and Steve heard a gasp, but that was nothing compared to the surprised gasps of the soldiers when some of their bullets seemed to either disappear or just decide to stop moving in mid-air. Steve wasn't sure how exactly it looked like to people who didn't see the winter spirit, but he didn't stay to ask. Instead, he flung his shield to the soldiers, downing almost all of them in one sweeping throw. Steve was running before the shield started to arch back, and he grabbed Jack's arm and turned him around. The boy looked terrible, but was on his feet. It was something, at least.
"GO! Now!" Steve shouted, his military instincts kicking in full force. His shield was back in his hand almost as an afterthought. He completely ignored how terrible he was feeling. Now wasn't the time for that. They flew to the other hallway – metaphorically even for Jack, oddly enough – with Steve keeping up the rear and Bruce struggling to stay in human form. Steve had no doubt the Hulk could have taken the soldiers down, but right now Bruce had two badly injured allies to take care of, and Steve doubted Bruce wanted to lose control in that situation any more than he had to. Jack ran rather unsteadily past them both to lead them towards the exit, and Steve hoped with all his might that there were no more soldiers waiting for them ahead. He had pushed his pain and nausea aside for now, but if he stopped even for a second to fight, he knew it would probably come rushing back to him. And Jack seemed to be running on pure adrenaline – or some spirit equivalent of it – as well. Steve was sure the kid had been shot at least three times, even though he hadn't taken the time to look for the bullet wounds. Bruce was right: they'd all have some serious patching up to do once they got out.
They burst out of the door, and the fresh air felt wonderful in Steve's lungs. Even if the freshness was debatable, what with the subtle stench of industrial fumes and… nuclear fallout?
"Where's the green guy?" asked Bruce, his shoulders tense. His eyes were sweeping the scorched earth and the sickly-looking environment. Jack stepped forward, still limping.
"Sandy?" he called out, "SANDY?!"
Steve looked around as well. There was no sign of the Sandman. Or the Radioactive Man either. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign. On a battlefield, it could be either one. Or both.
"He can handle himself, right?" he asked, "Wasn't he supposed to be the strongest out of you people?"
Jack spun around, his face ashen and skin looking paper thin.
"Yeah, he is," he said in obvious distress, "But I'm not going to just leave him! We don't know what that other green guy can do! And he- oh, crap."
Gunshots echoed from the door of the bunker. Steve grabbed both Jack and Bruce's shoulders.
"We can't stay here. Let's stun these guys as quickly as we can and then hope the backup gets here soon."
"Got it," Jack said and raised his hand. A chunk of ice shot at one of the soldiers' head, and the man went down. Jack grimaced in pain again, and when he stepped back, his legs almost failed him. Steve forced himself to forget about his own injuries and raised his shield. He barrelled into the soldiers, kicking, punching, throwing, and dodging until he thought he would collapse. There were a lot of soldiers, around him. Not an impossible amount, but with the beating and especially the radiation damage he had already taken, it started to feel a bit too much.
The pickup had better be here soon.
He blocked yet another bullet and hated how sloppy his movements felt like. True, he could still keep up with the best of the soldiers, but for how long? An ice block hit a soldier, and the man staggered. He fired blindly, and Steve moved in to intercept the shot and then prepared to throw his shield again. The soldier went down, however, before he could do it.
The man had been hit in the shoulder by what looked like… the Iron Man's repulsor ray?
Steve glanced up as quickly as he could, and saw a lonely Iron Man suit hovering nearby.
"Need any help?" asked a slightly distorted voice that didn't sound quite like Stark. It was definitely an empty suit. Behind it was a speeding swarm of what looked like metallic birds from a distance, but turned more and more humanoid the closer they came. Tony's Iron Man army.
The soldiers started firing upwards, but there weren't nearly enough of them left to withstand the robot army. Steve had heard of Tony's plans for a whole new division of automated Iron Man suits, but he hadn't seen it in action before. And while this group wasn't big enough to be considered an actual division, it was still impressive.
"Captain, come on!"
Bruce was calling for him. Steve tossed his shield at a soldier who was still trying to get up and turned just in time to see a weary Bruce supporting an even wearier Jack, who was looking around frantically as a helicopter came to view from the distance and lowered a ladder behind them. One of the Iron Man suits raised his hand in a slightly smug greeting.
"Since you got the Hulk free, then you'd probably best make sure he stays that way. We'll take it from here."
Leave it to Stark to make even his robots sound a bit smug. Steve reluctantly backed away from the fight when the last of the soldiers started going down. He grabbed the helicopter's ladder with one arm, the other still shielding himself and hopefully others from the last desperate bullets that were fired from the ground level. He heard Jack protesting, and Bruce trying to calm him down.
"Sandy's still down there! Let me go!"
"We can't help him by rushing blindly into some very hostile-looking territory. Not in your condition, especially."
"I'm fine!"
"Don't make me get angry at you."
"Don't make me throw another happy snowball at you!"
"Could you keep it down? The agents are looking at me oddly."
A pair of arms grabbed Steve and helped him up. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he didn't recognise looked questioningly at him, and Steve smiled a bit weakly at him.
"Good timing," he said, "Most of the soldiers inside followed us all the way out."
The agent nodded.
"We sent a couple of men down to fight alongside the suits. They'll sweep the place down. Anything we should be aware of?"
"There's an Asgardian in the base. He's unconscious, but be careful."
"Got it. Are you okay?"
"We need some patching up, but otherwise, we're fine."
"Okay, wait here a second and we'll get everything ready in the med bay.
The agent left him, and Steve sat down on the metallic floor. He let out a deep breath. Now that the fight was over, the nausea and exhaustion came back again. He looked around and spotted Bruce sitting in a corner with his eyes closed and hands over his ears, clearly trying to desperately reach his personal happy place. Jack was still a bit agitated, but had calmed down a bit and was looking towards the ceiling with a smile on his face. A smile that looked a bit alarming thanks to the blood on his teeth.
"Man, am I glad to see you, girls!"
Wait, what? Steve followed Jack's gaze and saw a couple of tiny tooth fairies hovering near the ceiling. Again one of the fairies fluttered to Jack's side, but this time it was carrying something. Jack quickly took it and pocketed it.
"Thanks, Baby Tooth. Is everything okay out there?"
The little fairy named Baby Tooth chirped a few times. Jack nodded, and Steve was starting to feel really left out of the conversation.
"What's she saying?" he asked.
"She said that something's probably going to go down soon, but at the moment things are relatively calm."
Jack looked at the fairies worriedly.
"Hey, can you scout the area and try to find Sandy? But be super careful; there's some radioactive guy fighting him."
Baby Tooth let out a worried tweet. Jack frowned.
"Yeah. It's pretty bad. I want you to inform the other Guardians too. Maybe they can send help."
Steve watched the fairies leave until only the one named Baby Tooth remained. Jack let out a tired chuckle.
"Okay, fine. I guess I can't make you leave now."
Baby Tooth chirped.
"Thanks for worrying."
It was an oddly heart-warming and calming scene, watching the little fairy and the icy boy exchange friendly words. It made Steve realise how much they really needed a little break. A big part of him wanted back into the action, to make sure no one got needlessly hurt. But he had to admit that this all had taken more of a toll on them than they had expected. So when the medical personnel came back, he let them escort him and Bruce to the med bay. Jack Frost was left behind, invisible to the rest of the people there. Steve promised himself that he would make sure the kid was alright as soon as he wasn't surrounded by fussing agents anymore.
Jack tried to squeeze into a corner where he was as little on anyone's way as possible. Not that anyone minded the invisible, intangible person in their midst, but he minded being walked through, thank you very much. And he wanted a peaceful place where to just calm down, fix his staff, and clear his head. After a few people had barged through him and left him feeling awfully empty, he had finally found a place where he could sit down and take a deep breath. The first thing to take care of was the staff. It was still in two pieces, and still hurt like a knife in his spinal cord. Baby Tooth fluttered next to his ear and chirped sadly when Jack fitted the final pieces together.
"I know, I know," he sighed, "I should be more careful with this. Although in my defence, being more careful would mean surgically attaching it to my hand or something."
Baby Tooth made a slightly disgusted face. Jack grinned at her.
"Relax, I'm not actually considering it. Hold on just a sec, I got this."
He focused, and felt the familiar strain accompanied with the familiar relief when his pain was finally soothed. The staff was whole again, and so was he. He slumped against the wall, and Baby Tooth landed on his knee. She pointed at her face and then at Jack and let out a series of worried little sounds that Jack's tired mind couldn't make sense of. He settled for petting her head.
"This is quite a mess we've cooked up, right?" Jack said, and Baby Tooth nodded sadly, "I can't wait for it to get sorted out."
He sighed.
"Well, I'll bet we're going towards the sorting out part at least."
Baby Tooth pointed downwards, reminding Jack that there was probably a crisis brewing down at the surface as they spoke.
"Yeah, I know. But there's not much we can do about it until we get out of this thing. I'll make sure these guys will be okay, and then we can go. Sound good?"
Baby Tooth let out an affirmative chirp, and Jack smiled again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tooth box Baby Tooth had brought him.
"Thanks for this," he said again, "I know this isn't the time, but you guys were already told to rummage through the boxes for that Taskmaster-guy, so what the heck, right?"
He let his finger trace the intricate patterns carved in the metallic cylinder, and smiled at the grinning picture of a young, brown-haired boy. Tony Stark obviously wouldn't stop bothering him until he could get some sort of an answer to this whole dying and waking up -thing. Jack wasn't a fan of the idea of purposefully recalling his death again. In fact, on the list of things he really didn't want to do, it ranked right below throwing his staff into a Midsummer's bonfire. But on the other hand, it would be amazing to throw some sort of satisfying answer in Tony's face. One that would make him stop harassing him about this, no less.
As Jack pressed his hand on the tooth box and concentrated, he tried to silence the voice of reason in his head that reminded him that there was no guarantee that he would get any answers out of his own past.
He closed his eyes.
And fell into the dark.
Cold.
Dark.
Water.
Falling.
He's down there. I can't be too late.
I
have
to
help
him…
Jack gasped and hit his head painfully against the wall behind him.
What was that?
A memory? A bad one. Saving… he was saving someone. He had saved many people in his time, and he had also failed to save many. Which one had that been? It didn't feel very familiar to him. And it wasn't even what he'd wanted to see. He'd wanted to… well, he hadn't wanted to, but he had kind of tried to see the time when he'd drowned. He looked up at Baby Tooth, a question on his face.
"What was that?" he asked.
Baby Tooth shrugged her tiny shoulders and gave him a look that clearly said: Are you kidding me? I can't see what's in your head.
Jack shook the tooth box gently. The pieces of his skull rattled within. He tried remembering again, but this time there was only blackness. And cold. And then…nothing. He coughed as if he was drowning and then jumped to his feet.
"Well, it was worth a shot," he said and tried to hide the trembling of his voice, "Come on, Baby Tooth, let's go see how the others are doing."
Steve breathed in deeply, still feeling unsure about how well he could keep his lunch in. Or dinner. Or… when was the last time he had eaten anyway? Probably almost twelve hours ago. Nothing too bad; he'd been through way worse. And God, just thinking about food made him feel even more awful. So he sat back on the uncomfortable bed he was told to stay in and turned his head to look at the bed next to him, which according to security cameras was empty, but which really had for the last few minutes been occupied by a very weary-looking boy. No one had spared a second or even a first glance to Jack Frost after they had got on board their escape copter. Jack had tried to weave through the group of people who had been quick to usher both Steve and Bruce for a check-up, but Steve had seen at least two people unwittingly walk right through the kid like he wasn't even there. It looked unnerving, and judging by the look on the boy's face, it felt unnerving too. Now the medical staff had left Steve alone for a while, so he could actually offer some sympathy and concern to the kid who still looked half dead.
"Hey, Jack? Are you okay?"
Jack was holding his staff on his lap, and Steve could see frost curling around it. The last piece had been attached again, and the staff looked good as new – or old, since it had looked pretty ancient to begin with. Jack looked up from his weapon and managed a tired smile.
"Me? I'm right as rain. Well, except I'm not too fond of rain. But yeah, I'm fine. How about you? How're you feeling?"
"Like I'm about to throw up everything I've ever eaten in my life. Otherwise, just fine. Wait…"
Steve stared, trying to form coherent thoughts in his radiation-muddled brain. He noticed something that he hadn't noticed before.
"Is that a bullet hole in your face?"
A small, possibly affirmative, tweet was heard from the pocket of Jack's hoodie. It sounded like one of the fairies. Jack lifted a hand to brush at his cheek, where a slightly blackened, round hole stood out horribly against the pale skin.
"Oh? I guess it is. I was kind of too preoccupied by my staff to even notice…" he pressed his finger tighter against the wound, wincing a bit, "Yep, they definitely shot me a couple of times. Hold on."
He closed his eyes, and slowly pulled his fingers away from the bullet hole. Steve watched as a thin, lumpy trail of ice grew out of the wound, reddish black from what was probably blood. Inside the ice, a bullet was encased. Jack curled his hand around the bullet and broke it off, and the rest of the ice shattered into tiny sparkles that disappeared into the air. Steve had seen a lot of disgusting things in his life, and that was probably what kept his stomach from doing any extra flips while watching the strange bullet extraction.
"Wow, that's… a bit gross."
Jack grinned, and the bullet hole on his face knitted closed with bluish, shimmering stitches that vanished like melting snow.
"Would you rather have watched me dig it out with my bare hands?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure there's stuff here in the medical bay you could've used."
"Oh, right. Well, do I look like a surgeon to you?" Jack spread his arms, and Steve noticed the other bullet holes that marred the boy's hoodie – and no, he didn't look like a surgeon at all, "You don't look like you'd do any better either. You're almost cross-eyed right now."
Steve sighed. The kid was right. And the rest of the copter's team still had no idea there was an immortal child in their med bay.
"Okay, fine. Just… fish the rest of those bullets out too, would you?"
"Gladly. I'm not too fond of them either."
"I'm sure. How are you really?" Steve asked when the rest of the bullets clinked onto a medical table near his bed. Jack pulled at the hoodie he had rolled up for his very unprofessional surgery and dragged it back down. Steve could have counted the boy's ribs. He was so painfully thin, "The Executioner did a number on you."
"I told you a million times: I'm fine," Jack said, now pressing his cold hand against his black eye, and the already considerably healed swelling started to instantly go down, "You should be more worried about yourself. I've gathered that radiation is pretty bad for people. Even super-serumed ones."
"I'll live," Steve said, "What's with the staff and you?"
Jack's hand tightened around the staff, and the boy pulled it closer to himself probably without even realising it.
"Magic bonds," he finally said, "It's mostly a conduit. It breaking isn't very fun for me, though."
He said the last part reluctantly. Steve remembered the screams that had pierced even the haze of near-unconsciousness back in the base.
"How bad?" he asked.
Jack shrugged.
"Like having all my bones broken, except it's all in my soul. But hey, I'm back on my feet now. No cracks. Unlike you. I'll ask the Guardians if they have anything for radiation poisoning once I see them again."
"When's that going to be?"
"Soon. We were supposed to report back as soon as Bruce was with you guys. Now that you're better, I won't feel too bad for leaving you when I go look for Sandy."
Jack fell silent, his fingers restlessly tugging at his hood. Steve couldn't blame the boy for worrying about his friend. That green man was really bad news.
"He'll be fine," Steve said, hoping it sounded reassuring, "We'll all be fine."
He looked at Bruce, who had only received a few bumps and bruises during all this madness. He had fallen into what seemed like a deep sleep soon after the medical personnel had been done with him. Steve couldn't blame him either. Steve could really use some sleep too. Though he probably couldn't relax enough for that with all this going on around them. Maybe he'd try anyway. Staying up worrying during chaotic times was madness if there was a chance to get actually some rest.
A bump near the door of the med bay made Steve look up. His thoughts were interrupted almost at once.
"What the-?"
At the door stood a man whom Steve recognised after a moment of thinking as the assassin that Natasha had caught some time ago.
Author's Note: These people can't catch a break, apparently. But hey, this is based on a mainstream superhero franchise so… it's probably required by some sort of laws. Anyway, this took a long time to get out, because some of the scenes just were really difficult for me. About a half of this was again just setting up scenes I really want to write, and a half of it actually writing the things that come naturally to me. Plus I had some really time- and brain-consuming work for school, but I finally got this sorted out! Oh, the joy! Well, for me, for you… that depends on whether you liked this or not, I guess.
Maybe we'll get to the other characters again in the next chapter? Jack, stop stealing all the screen time! Although he probably doesn't want all this attention when a lot of it is him getting the crap beaten out of him.
I hope you enjoy!
REVIEW RESPONSES:
Flute girl: Aww, thanks! And oh no, please don't die! I hope this update is enough to keep you alive for a while. :P
RAVEN: Yay, I'm glad you like it! But don't explode too much. Explosions aren't very healthy, I hear.
Crossover Junkie: Kids really can handle a lot of dark stuff. Of course the content needs to be appropriate (e.g. not super gory or disturbing or pornographic) for kids, but some adults are indeed underestimating children. Talking about death and sadness and scary things are important parts of growing up, and kids should feel like these are things that are allowed to be talked about.
Mala: I LOVED the Jack Frost picture book. I pre-ordered it (and yes, the thought of pre-ordering a physical copy of a children's picture book does make me feel amazingly weird in the best kind of way) actually, and the art in it is just so amazing and lovely and gah! I love it. The scenery! The colours! The lighting! The SPIRALS! And the story is pretty sweet too, even if Joyce does mess up his own canon. Or possibly he just retcons some things, or then the picture books are yet another different universe from the novels because it kind of sounds like Nightlight became Jack Frost before the events of the novels ever happened, which makes no sense. Well, we'll just have to wait for the next book to see what happens in it.
Chiara Dello: Yup! They sure are arguing. It's actually too easy for me to get those two butting heads. It's also fun. Mwahahahaahaaaa!
