.

Relativistic Effects

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"We've arrived just outside the outpost, time is oh-eight hundred. We're headed out now."

Peter sat at one of the tables in Bruce's lab, his leg bouncing rapidly as he stared unseeingly at the data on the tablet in front of him, too focused on the infrequent radio chatter from the team that had gone down to Callisto.

"Looks like the outpost's life support is fully up and running—temperature, pressure, O2 levels, artificial gravity. Those of us inside are gonna ditch the suits, but we'll still be on comms."

"You think that's wise?"

"Don't worry sweetums, even if everything shuts down they've got enough time to get back here and suit up."

"And if Tony blows up the reactor, we'll all be dead anyways."

"You ok?"

Bruce's voice startled Peter, and instantly he felt his face heat. "Um, yeah, no— I'm uh... I'm good. Just um, just listening."

"You know they're gonna be fine, right?" Bruce said with a raise of his eyebrows. "It's pretty routine, what they're doing."

"No, I know," Peter nodded. "It's just... Ah, you're gonna call me crazy, but I've just had a weird feeling all morning. Hair standing up on the back of your neck kinda thing."

"And it doesn't help that you're stuck up here," Bruce added knowingly.

"Yeah," Peter sighed, "something like that."

Bruce nodded before turning back to the microscope in front of him, motioning over his shoulder for Peter to join him. "Come here. Let's see if this can't take your mind off of things."

Peter stood from his chair, making his way over to Bruce's workstation where three separate microscopes were set up, a handful of slides scattered between them.

"Take a look," Bruce said as he nodded towards one of the microscopes.

Peter peered down through the lenses. "It looks like... Are those blood cells?"

"Mhmm."

"What happened to them? They look like they've been completely ripped apart."

"That is the million dollar question. Come, look at this one."

Peter pulled away from the first microscope to look through the next. "What's the variation?" he asked curiously, turning to look up at Bruce after finding the blood cells in the second slide completely intact.

"Technically classified, I think," Bruce said with a light furrow in his brow. "But, each of these slides is a different sample. What they were subjected to is the same; some type of virus, so I'm told. I'm trying to figure out what makes those guys so special."

Peter looked to the stack of slides on the table. "How many are there?"

"Eight."

Peter looked up at Bruce then, immediately catching the significance.

"It kept destroying the other samples I had," Bruce continued off of Peter's look. "While that may have very well been the point, I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't."

"So you tested it on us."

"In a sense, yes. Everyone, including myself, has to go through routine blood work while out here as part of the physical. So I do have samples of everyone's sitting around. I didn't expect these results, though."

"How many survived?"

"Only three so far. Tony's, Marc's, and yours."

Peter looked back down at the samples. "Is this like... a mutant X-gene test or something?"

Bruce chuckled softly. "Hardly. Don't mean to crush your dreams though, if that was the hope."

Peter sat down heavily in a chair next to Bruce. "So... you want to know what's special about us?"

"If the sample keeps," Bruce gave a nod. "There's a chance they'll still degrade. Natasha's took a bit longer than the rest, but it got there eventually."

Peter looked down at the sample currently under the microscope, wondering if those were his cells. He hadn't dared to look at them after his accident at Oscorp, hoping he could fly under the radar and avoid getting poked and prodded if no one looked too closely. So far he'd succeeded; he passed routine blood work without issue, and yearly physicals hadn't raised any red flags.

Yet here he was now, more than four hundred million miles away, his cells literally being put under a microscope.

"It could be some common genetic marker," Bruce spoke again, bringing Peter's attention back to the present. "As far as I know Tony doesn't have any enhancements. Plus, the two super soldiers failed as well, so I ruled those factors out."

"Really?" Peter asked curiously. "Even with their healing factors, it still...?"

"More or less. The cells kept trying to heal while they were being ripped apart. Ultimately, even they failed to withstand the constant degradation."

"So it can bypass a healing factor." Peter said the thought aloud, although Bruce was quick to curb that theory.

"Not necessarily. There were some self-healing cells that managed to withstand it. They had previously been experimented on with gamma radiation. Nasty stuff; not sure there's much that can affect those ones. But since they render the agent inert, they're not worth much study in this particular experiment."

Peter suddenly had a bunch of questions about these supposed cells, but one look at Bruce told him any discussion of them was off the table.

"So, not immune to healing factors, just the super soldier serum. Are they... could it be related?"

"Related?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, like if this is trying to be a knockoff or competition for it, maybe it recognizes the other one, knows how to fight it."

Bruce looked to be considering Peter's words for a long moment. "That's certainly a possibility."

"Are you gonna sequence our samples?"

Bruce looked back at him, concern etching his features at whatever he saw in Peter's. "Not if you don't want me to. Tony's and Marc's will be enough, if there is something there to explain the connection."

Peter's shoulders sagged as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Bruce said with a small smile. Mercifully, he didn't ask anymore questions about it. "For now, see if you can glean any details from these samples. I have a feeling there's more to the story than inaction versus complete annihilation." He stood from his chair, heading to a separate workstation in the lab to check on another experiment he was running.

Content to dig into the task before him, Peter pulled up a notepad beside him and set to looking for any notable changes or interactions between the affected cells. He still kept an ear to the radio chatter, the low thrum of anxiety never quite able to leave his system, but he was now at least somewhat distracted from the proceedings happening down in Callisto.

The distraction fell apart sometime later, however, when Tony's voice came through mentioning how the reactor may have possibly been tampered with, and the worry he'd felt simmering all morning suddenly flooded his senses as a realization hit him.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

"You gotta warn them not to open that file. There's a really good chance it could be some kind of Trojan horse."

"Peter?"

Peter looked over at Bruce, his expression split between question and concern.

"You gotta trust me Dr. Banner, I know it sounds crazy but I've seen this before, and after everything they've been saying—"

Peter stopped when Bruce held his hand up, giving a short nod. "Go ahead," he said, addressing FRIDAY.

It took a moment before FRIDAY spoke again. "There... appears to be a problem. I cannot get through to their radios."

A sinking feeling spread through Peter.

"Is this recent?" Bruce's voice was calm, although Peter could hear the slight edge that gave away his own worry over the developing situation.

"Nothing on my monitors has been triggered. All systems still appear in working order, but any attempts to hail them seem not to go through."

"FRIDAY is right," JARVIS' voice followed. "I am unable to connect with my counterpart in the suit, either. There must be some sort of interference we cannot detect acting down on the moon itself."

"So we can hear them, but they can't hear us?"

"That would—" JARVIS stopped as soon as Tony started speaking.

"Hey, guys? Actually, you probably shouldn't—"

Tony's voice was drowned out by a high-pitched, staticky sound that pierced through the speakers before being cut off, most likely by one of the AI. After a brief moment of silence, FRIDAY's voice came through the speakers.

"A large energy surge has just been emitted from the outpost. It seems the base has entered a lockdown sequence; all signals from within the base are being jammed."

"And the others?" Bruce questioned.

"I can still see them on the scans, but I've lost their comms as well. Mr. Spector's suit has also gone offline."

Peter's eyes widened. "You don't think—?"

Bruce shook his head sharply. "Let's not assume the worst until we can get more information. FRIDAY, keep monitoring those outside the base and update us if anything changes. Given the state of everything, going down ourselves could only complicate things. For now, we have to trust that they can handle themselves."

Peter couldn't deny that Bruce's line of thinking made sense, but he hated it all the same. His leg returned to bouncing rapidly, work abandoned as his mind lost all ability to focus on anything besides what might be happening down on the moon. Loki had joined them not long after everything had begun, but he remained a silent figure in the lab, waiting patiently with far more calm than Peter could ever imagine having in a situation like this.

"Stand by—Barton, Rhodes, and Odinson have taken Spector into the shuttle. I've managed to reach them through the shuttle's systems," FRIDAY announced after way too long of stifling silence filling the lab. "Spector is alive, but unconscious."

Peter took in a deep breath, releasing at least some of the tension he was holding as he exhaled.

"They have decided to bring Spector back to the station and will return for the others once we are able to reestablish communication."

"Ok, I'll head to medbay now and get it prepped. Loki, head down and meet them at the shuttle bay. Peter, you're with me."

Peter obediently followed Bruce out of the room. As they walked, he felt his whole body vibrating with anxiety, his mind wandering to those who were stuck inside the base with no way to contact the rest of the crew if something had happened to one of them.

"Remember, no use in thinking the worst," Bruce spoke as if he could read Peter's mind. "Focus on what you know and what you have to do."

"Yes sir," Peter replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He knew he wouldn't be useful if he was too busy getting caught up in everything that was happening, so he worked to heed Bruce's advice.

The only problem was what he knew and what he felt were currently waging a war inside of him, and what he felt was telling him that something had shifted, that something had cracked and splintered, that something was seeping through and whatever that was had no intention of playing nice.

"Any way to patch us through, J?" Tony asked after failing to get anyone over the radio.

"It would appear the station is jamming any broadcast signals from outside and within the base."

"Fantastic," Tony grumbled, sliding down the far wall he had taken to leaning against, resting his forearms across his knees before dropping his forehead down onto them. If the gods had any mercy, the next time he opened his eyes this would all just have been a particularly cruel dream. "So, how do we go about warning our trigger happy friends not to go bashing down any walls?"

"I could attempt to patch into the intercom system," JARVIS suggested after a moment. "It should not elicit any reaction from the lockdown protocol, and the message would be played throughout the entire base."

Tony gave a thumbs up. "Do it."

He could hear the suit following his command as it walked over to the speaker installed into the lab's wall paneling.

"What about everyone else?"

"We pray Spector remains the sensible one and prevents Barton from bashing his way in here," Tony replied as he reluctantly lifted his head to look up at Barnes, whose eyes remained on the suit as it removed the cover and began to sift through the wiring tucked inside the wall. Nope, not a dream. "Rhodey will be none too pleased, but he's also more of an 'ask questions first, shoot later' kind of guy. He'll probably warn the station, then wait it out."

"Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff, I am JARVIS, an artificial intelligence unit installed in Mr. Stark's suit," JARVIS' voice began to play through the speakers. "It appears the base has entered into a lockdown, likely triggered by a program to prevent data from being shared with unauthorized parties."

"Probably?" Barnes asked, finally turning to look back at Tony as JARVIS continued his warning to stay put for the time being.

"Hopefully," Tony amended, cursing under his breath when he overheard JARVIS adding that Barnes was currently with him. "J, we're supposed to be preventing the supersoldier from punching the walls in, not giving him a reason to!"

"I merely wanted to reassure the Captain that Sergeant Barnes is safely accounted for," JARVIS replied, cool as ever, as he disconnected from the speaker system.

"I'm not exactly sure 'safely' is what he'll take from that."

"He'll be fine."

Tony snapped his gaze in Barnes' direction. "Oh really? The guy who thinks I'd happily take any opportunity to maim or kill you will be totally fine with our current situation?"

"He doesn't—" Barnes stopped abruptly, his eyes shifting down to the floor. "He's just worried for me."

The smile that stretched across Tony's face was all teeth. "Well, I'm glad someone is so worried for you."

Barnes looked briefly towards the door before finally turning back to Tony, his expression strained. "Look, Tony, I know we haven't talked about—"

"And we're not about to start now."

"I don't care what Steve might think," Barnes shook his head, refusing to let the subject drop. "Whatever you have—"

"It's not about Steve, it's you," Tony cut him off sharply once again. "Rogers can think whatever the hell he wants, but don't lie and say you didn't believe him. You've already decided he's not wrong."

"And don't I deserve it?" Barnes snapped back.

God, Tony just wanted him to shut up.

"I get it, you know," Barnes pressed on. "If you want to scream at me, hit me, any of it. All of it. I won't blame you."

Tony scoffed. I won't blame you. Like he had any right to say those words to him. Like he had any right to say it in that sad, self-sacrificing tone, like he was giving Tony some sort of retribution, the I won't retaliate left unsaid but felt all the same.

Tony could feel the swell of anger rising, but it was more than that. It was something he didn't want to confront, the thing he'd been running from since the day he got the phone call about his parents' death.

"Screw you. You do not get to use me as a way to flagellate yourself for your crimes."

"Why not? Two birds, one stone. Besides, wouldn't it make you feel better?"

Wouldn't it make you feel better?

Wouldn't it make you feel better to see how the trial plays out, to face the man in person? Maybe you'll finally get some closure.

Wouldn't it make you feel better to take a back seat after everything that's happened? You know you can trust me, Tony, and you're in no state to be running something as important as SI right now.

Wouldn't it make you feel better to actually do something useful, Anthony, instead of once again wasting my time?

"You don't really get it, do you?" he practically shouted, shaking his head as he looked anywhere but at Barnes. "Because that's just it. That's the worst goddamn part, because none of it—hating you, fighting you, hell, even killing you—none of it would bring her back. Not a damn thing will change what happened, and the people who really did it, the ones who gave the order? They're all dead! So what, what do I have, exactly? I have the man who murdered my parents, my mother—" Tony's voice caught but he sucked in a steadying breath, forcing himself to keep his voice even as he turned his eyes to look directly at Barnes, "right in front of me and I can't even blame him, let alone touch him, because it's not his goddamn fault."

Despite the red cast of light, Tony didn't miss it. He saw the way the muscles in Barnes' neck twitched, how he wanted to look away but was also forcing himself to keep eye contact. He saw the rage and anger Barnes still had about his situation, over everything that was done to him, and the utter helplessness he felt. There was no way he could atone for what he'd done, how could anyone?

"Tony, I—"

"It's not," Tony cut in, finally looking away, unwilling to hear an apology or sympathy or any of it. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, hating, hating the burning he felt growing behind his eyelids. "It's not your fault." The words felt like acid in his throat, but he said them anyway because he knew they were true. "I don't blame you. I can't— I can't blame you. It just... it just hurts. It really fucking hurts."

Tony didn't open his eyes when he heard Barnes move, didn't watch Barnes walk over and settle down next to him, didn't even flinch when he felt the metal arm wrap tentatively around his waist.

What he did instead was go willingly, allowed himself to be moved so that he was sitting between Barnes' legs, back pressed against his chest as Barnes wrapped his flesh arm around him as well.

What he did was grip the metal arm with both hands tight enough to bruise lesser flesh, only to feel the unyielding metal beneath biting back just as fiercely.

What he did was finally let all of the grief, let all of the pain engulf him at once, run through his body uninhibited and tear through his throat as he let out everything he hadn't let himself feel since his parent's death, since the trial, since Obie pulled the arc reactor out of his chest.

It took awhile, but Tony realized Barnes was saying something.

"I'm sorry," he was repeating over and over again. "I'm so sorry."

And it tore a harsh breath out of Tony, because he knew Barnes wasn't apologizing for what he'd done, wasn't trying to ask for forgiveness. He was apologizing that it had happened to Tony, that Tony had to go through this at all.

"I hate you," Tony said in a hoarse whisper, swallowing around the rawness in his throat. "God, I should hate you." He was exhausted now, his body going limp against Barnes.

"But you don't." It was said with a quiet sort of awed disbelief, almost a question.

"I can't."

And that, Tony realized, is what he hated most of all.

—

Tony stared at the metal beneath his fingers, taking in the faint scratches littering the surface. A selfish part of him wanted to tear it apart, to pull it off piece by piece until it was nothing but scraps of metal piling on the floor.

"I could easily blow this thing off," he mused, his fingers exploring the metal surface absently. He knew he shouldn't say stuff like that out loud, but he was currently too emotionally wrung out and couldn't find it within himself to care. He wasn't sure how much time had actually passed, having long ago lapsed into a quiet numbness, a state his brain would clearly only tolerate for so long.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Barnes replied, surprising Tony with his nonchalance. "Steve thought you might use the suit to kill me."

Tony snorted, but he wasn't surprised in the least that Rogers' mind came to that conclusion. "That'd be a dramatic way to go out."

"What, you killing me with the suit? Figure it wouldn't be much of a spectacle; more expected than dramatic."

"Not you," Tony corrected, his eyes still lingering on the metal, his mind drawing up schematics as if on autopilot.

"Not me," Barnes parroted back, clearly at a loss for what Tony was getting at.

"No, I meant the time." Tony tapped the arc reactor as he continued. "It's poisoning me. And for an extra bit of fun, the more heavily I use the suit, faster it does. And fighting you?" He let out a low whistle. "I've seen the tapes; definitely wouldn't be light use. So while the dramatic flare does seem tempting, I don't think it's worth it to waste all that time just to kill you."

Tony slipped his hand under the arm, lifting it into his palm. He could tell it was too heavy, the reinforcements for the joints creating an imbalance across the arm that Barnes probably compensated for without realizing it. It was a weapon first and foremost, not a proper prosthesis, but Tony knew he could make it perform as both with equal efficiency.

"But I thought that's what was keeping you alive," Barnes finally said into the silence that had followed Tony's words.

Tony hummed absently, his mind still on the arm. "It is. It's also killing me. I feel like there's a metaphor in there somewhere."

"Tony," Barnes said in a serious tone, finally pulling his arm out of Tony's reach, "that doesn't... Why didn't you use the spacesuits then? Why bring it at all?"

Tony made a disgruntled sound when Barnes pulled his arm away, turning sideways so that he could see Barnes' face. It reminded him a lot of Pepper's you are an insufferable human being and I don't know how anyone deals with you face, that, with a sigh, also reminded him why he'd kept this to himself.

"That, right there," he nodded towards Barnes, "is why I don't tell people. You can all pity me when I'm nice and dead, but until then? Feel free to spare me the pitying, judgemental looks. Well..." he paused, considering. "At least those pitying and judgemental looks.

"Besides," he continued with a shrug, "I needed J down here with me if anything happened. Couldn't have predicted the outpost would go all DEFCON 2. As far as bringing it, it's a tool, like anything else. I can work faster on the installation with it. Plus," he tacked on, just to be annoying, "it'll come in handy when the aliens attack."

"Tony, that's not funny."

"One hundred percent serious here. I mean, how else do you explain all of this?" he said as he waved his hand towards the room. "Clearly JARVIS seems to think there's some magical being or other running around out there, same as that Kaneda woman."

"I was merely presenting an alternative theory to explain what might have caused the power disruptions," JARVIS spoke up, a hint of peevishness detectable in his voice. "The being would not necessarily have to be alien in nature, as it could reasonably be a result of some form of experimentation. However, I must add that while interstellar organisms with higher brain functions appearing in our solar system without previous detection is highly improbable, it is also not mathematically impossible."

"So you do support the alien theory!"

"This whole thing does feel... off." Barnes had looked out into the room while Tony was mouthing off with JARVIS, his gaze unfocused. "Too coordinated."

"What, like someone's purposefully causing all of this to happen?"

Barnes gave a nod in response. "To trap us here, maybe."

"Like, us in general us, or specifically you and me?" Tony questioned. "I mean, if Stars and Stripes is to be believed, I'd take any opportunity to cut you down. Getting stuck with you in here? It'd be the perfect excuse." Tony tilted his head as the idea blossomed in his mind, figuring with everything going on it wouldn't be the wildest idea to consider. "Does kind of implicate one of the other crewmembers though, someone who'd know about us; less so a vengeful alien. Unless of course you've also managed to piss off an alien. Or I have."

When Tony finally looked back at Barnes, he had that same pained, guilty look, his eyes staring at the metal arm now resting in his lap. Tony, not really in the mood to go down that path again, opened his mouth to fend off any attempt at self-flagellation, but was stopped short when Barnes said, "Well, too bad you're dying, then."

Tony found himself stunned silent by those words.

Barnes looked up at him when he didn't reply, continuing with a small shrug. "I mean, you basically said it yourself—if you weren't dying, you'd try to kill me. If that was their plan, you've pretty much royally fucked that up."

A laugh suddenly burst out of Tony. It was honestly the last thing he had expected from Barnes, the dark humor catching him off guard yet delighting him all the same.

"What do you mean, try?" Tony decided to tease back. "You'd put up a decent fight, sure, but do you really think you're a match for me in the suit?"

"HYDRA's greatest asset, remember?" Barnes replied with a grin tugging at his lips. "Plus, now that you've revealed your strategy," he said as he raised his left arm, "I know how to compensate. We definitely would have gone a few rounds, at least."

"Against the Winter Soldier, maybe. But James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes?" Tony sucked in a breath between his teeth, looking over James as if unimpressed. "Doubtful."

"Maybe back in the day," Barnes said with a shrug, the grin he'd had slowly fading. "But I... um, well, Winter, he's... all of him's still with me. What he learned, I did too." His eyes dropped from Tony's, staring, Tony noted, at the area of his chest where his arc reactor sat. "And he'd know to go after Tony Stark, not Iron Man."

"Too bad we're one in the same." Tony's hand touched the reactor beneath his shirt, nearly a reflex as his mind replayed the moment Obie pulled it out of his chest. "Think the world wouldn't mind if they could have Iron Man without me."

Tony looked back up to meet Barnes' eyes. "Looks like the world's stuck with both versions of us, huh?"

Barnes gave him an incredulous look. "Not sure that's an equal comparison there."

"You know they used to call me The Merchant of Death?" Tony gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm sure some people still do. And I don't even have being brainwashed by pseudo-Nazi's as an excuse."

At Barnes' confused expression, Tony elaborated. "One of my dad's old colleagues, a business partner... my mentor— a friend? Fuck, whatever Obie was, he was selling our weapons to whoever, didn't matter what the war was or whose side was buying. Our profit margins were great, shareholders were happy, and everything looked above board if you didn't look too hard. But that was my job, wasn't it? To oversee everything, to make sure I knew what was happening. But no, I was too busy being me, feeling sorry for myself, resentful of my father, needing to prove I was better—"

Tony bit his lip to stop the stream of words spewing out of him. "I trusted him," he continued after a moment, "and that's my fault. Not knowing what was happening... it's not really an excuse, is it? It still happened. I still let it happen."

"Tony—" Barnes started in that same tone everyone did before they told him you couldn't have known and it's not really your fault, but he stopped short.

"Steve does it to you too, doesn't he?" Tony guessed. "You couldn't stop it, and I was too wrapped up in my own shit to see what was going on. Doesn't change the facts. People died, and on some level it's our fault."

Barnes shifted against the wall, turning his eyes away from Tony. "That's why it happened, yeah? The kidnapping. Steve told me you'd been taken hostage during the trial."

"Is that all he told you?"

Tony had no real desire to talk about that time of his life, especially not now, feeling as raw as he already did, but really, what was one more thing? Perhaps this was all punishment for not dealing with his problems earlier, for ignoring every time Pepper gently (always so gently) suggested he seek help. Perhaps his redress came in the form of unspooling himself, pulling the thread of his life to pile messily on the floor, knotting and collecting grime at any attempt to gather it neatly again.

But before Barnes could answer, the lights switched back from the emergency red to standard white, the sound of the door unlocking ringing loudly through the room.

"Bucky?"

It was the first thing Rogers said over the comms, and Tony bit his lip hard at the sudden, overwhelming desire to laugh at it all. Whatever liminal space that had existed in that red cast of light was gone, the world flipped abruptly back onto its proper axis where he was once again the harbinger of doom.

"We're fine, Steve," Barnes replied as Tony pulled himself up and walked towards the door. "Both of us."

"Good, that's... I'm glad you're ok. Me and Nat are no worse for wear either."

"Tell me, the system is wiped isn't it?" Tony asked as he stepped out of the room, ignoring the sound of Barnes following behind.

"Looks like it," Natasha responded wearily.

Tony knew that was likely the answer, but he still muttered a curse at hearing it confirmed.

"All others, how copy?" Steve asked over the open comms channel.

"Hey guys," Rhodey's voice came over the line, an unexpected boon to Tony's ears. "Glad to hear your voices again. Unfortunately, there's been an incident; Spector is currently in medical getting assessed by Banner. He's alive, just unconscious. Everyone else is fine. We're gonna head back to get you guys now, and we'll brief you all then."

And just like that, any relief he'd gathered from hearing his friend's voice vanished.

"How is he?"

It was the first question Steve was greeted with upon returning with Bruce to the meeting room. Everyone was sitting around the table quietly, though Steve felt the thick undercurrent of restlessness and concern that filled the room.

"He's stable," Bruce replied to Clint's question, taking a seat as he addressed everyone's unasked questions. "His vitals are good. The scans all show he appears to have suffered only superficial injuries. However, attempts to wake him have remained unsuccessful. He's in a coma, and we cannot say when he may come out of it. Nothing on his brain scans show anything out of the ordinary at this time."

Clint cursed under his breath, sitting back heavily in his seat as he stared unseeingly at the table's surface. "What is this?"

"Unforeseen circumstances," Natasha answered after a beat, her own gaze unfocused. "It was an accident."

"Is that you trying to cover your own ass?" Clint sniped back, his eyes snapping up to hers.

"Guys," Steve spoke sharply, making sure his voice left no room for argument, "I understand that tensions are high, but that does not mean we start accusing other crewmembers of malintent. Understood?"

Clint took a deep breath before nodding, the others nodding their assent in turn.

"Natasha is right; what happened was a result of a severe lack of information about what truly happened on that base. So far, we can only assume that there was a bad actor on the outpost that orchestrated these protocols to wipe any attempt at accessing information directly from the base itself. Whether it was a crewmember or some unknown individual is yet to be determined, but from now on we treat all future missions down to the surface of Callisto as potentially dangerous."

"Command have any glowing insights into these developments?" Tony asked.

"They haven't responded," Clint answered, the frustration clear in his voice. "We sent out a message as soon as the three of us got back with Marc. Then another when you all arrived back, along with the details of what you guys dealt with. Still radio silence."

"And the man who might actually have some insider knowledge into this clusterfuck is currently out of commission for the foreseeable future," Tony said as he crossed his arms. "How delightful."

"So is that it?" Bucky spoke up. "We just continue with things as they were until we get word from Command?"

"No," Steve shook his head. "For now, we'll wait until we get an answer from them; all planned missions to the outpost are suspended. In the meantime, we'll go through what information we did manage to gather, see if we can't discern anything useful from it."

"And what all information is that, exactly?" Tony asked pointedly in Natasha's direction.

"Not much," she responded, her tone one of frustration. "The system managed to corrupt most of the drive before I could take it out. I'm working with FRIDAY to see if there's anything salvageable, but so far what's still there is pretty innocuous. We're looking at breadcrumbs."

"Same with me," Bucky sighed. "I picked up Kaneda's notebooks before we returned, but they're scattered and inconsistent. And no real explanation for the state of the grow labs, just speculation at this point; not sure if it's even relevant. Can't know anything without access to the computer systems, which seems like a non-option in light of recent events."

"Meanwhile, I'm left with an electrical malfunction that could have been caused by a million different things," Tony added next. "The only thing I can be sure of is that it was done on purpose. Or made to look that way. Maybe."

"Add the radio towers to that list," Clint said with a thoughtful look. "I didn't think much of it when I was up there, but now everything feels like it'd be too convenient if they weren't also somehow involved. The damage was pretty spot on."

"And the date."

Steve turned to look over at Peter, who quickly hunched in on himself at the sudden attention from everyone in the room.

"Sorry, it's just— over the radio, it seemed like... Well, with it triggering something in Mr. Barnes' memory, just seemed like it might be relevant. Possibly."

"He's right," came Bucky's subdued voice.

Steve turned back to Bucky then. "You said it wasn't connected to any of this."

"I don't think it is, but I'm not exactly a reliable source." Bucky was giving Steve the look he always did to attempt to ward off what he saw as Steve's overprotective tendencies. "The kid has a point; it's not nothing."

"Speaking of," Loki suddenly spoke up, leaning forward from his reclined position. "While I love that everyone's so fascinated by this mythical date, did no one take note of exactly where this special crater was located?"

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Captain," the AI responded to Steve's unspoken request, displaying a newly scanned image of the crater on the glass screen against the far wall.

Steve turned back to Loki. "Care to enlighten us?"

"FRIDAY, zoom out sixty percent." Loki nodded to the screen as the image displayed a wider view of the area. "See that? It's in the Utgard structure. Those coordinates are inside the Asgard Basin."

"And what," Clint scoffed, "now you think it has something to do with you?"

Loki shrugged. "It's not exactly a secret our family has an obsession with Norse mythology."

"What does that even mean?" Clint continued, unconvinced. "If anything, it makes it sound like you guys had something to do with it. Pretty convenient, both of you being here when this all started, both of you staying out of the way during the mission—"

"Clint," Steve spoke again in warning.

"Well, hold on," Tony said as he leaned in, the intrigue clear in his voice. "What exactly does your family do?"

"Our father was an entrepreneur, of sorts," Thor began, earning a notable eye roll from Loki. "The business had a diversity of ventures under its umbrella. It largely worked to—"

"Let's not try to sugar coat it; our father was a corporate raider," Loki cut in sharply. "He bought other companies and tore them apart; that's how he grew his business to as large as it became."

"He wasn't doing that anymore," Thor defended. "They stopped doing that long ago, you know that."

"Oh yes, because just deciding one day you want to pretend to be a good person means all the bloodshed and suffering you've built your empire on goes away."

"So you think it might be a victim of your father's?"

There was a certain flatness to Tony's voice that had all eyes turning to him. Tony's eyes were shuttered, but it wasn't enough to hide the tense set of his jaw and sudden stiffness of his once lax posture.

For his part, Loki actually looked somewhat contrite at his word choice, but said nothing to address the unintended barb. "It's a possibility," he replied instead. "The fact that me and Thor have been here since this all started cannot be discounted."

"It could also be pure coincidence," Bruce chimed in. "That's one of the largest craters on the moon. It's not entirely impossible that whatever caught their attention just happened to be located there."

"How many coincidences are we adding to this bingo card before we win a prize?"

"Do you really think someone would set up all of... whatever this is, just to, what, exactly?" Natasha asked in lieu of responding to Loki's rhetorical question. "If they wanted to come after you guys for whatever reason, why not just attack the station?"

"Depends on the reason," Loki replied, nonplussed. "And what's actually down there."

"Which, really, you would know about more than anyone else on this station," Natasha challenged with a subtle raise of her eyebrow, "wouldn't you?"

Loki smiled slowly, the expression always somewhat unsettling on his face. "Would I, now?"

"We will consider every piece of information we have," Steve cut in, noting how the two continued to stare each other down, neither wavering. Whatever was going on between the two of them was beyond him, but he knew enough to know that now wasn't the time to address it. "As of now, none of us know what is or isn't related or even relevant. I want each of you to write up your own report of events with as much detail as possible. From those I'll write a report and send everything we currently have to Command. Hopefully they can give us guidance on what exactly we're dealing with. Understood?"

With everyone's nod, Steve dismissed the group. As they all filed out, Colonel Rhodes stopped beside him.

"I gotta admit, I don't envy your position for one minute," he said as he placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze in an attempt at reassurance. "But, try not to hold your breath for their answer. I've worked with SHIELD before, and they can be... Well, let's just say that all of this? Might just be par for the course on their end."

While the words didn't necessarily surprise him, Steve still furrowed his brows in doubt. "Even with Spector?"

"That might change things," Rhodes shrugged, dropping his hand from Steve's shoulder. "But, honestly? It probably won't."

Steve shook his head, staring out at where the rest of the crew had already left. He didn't want to believe him, didn't want to believe nothing would change given the current state of things. But he couldn't deny the feeling in his gut that Colonel Rhodes might be right.

"If it makes you feel better, I trust you on this. I can tell you're a man that cares about his crew, no matter how annoying, or occasionally stupid they can be." Rhodes said the last part with a faint smile on his lips. "Just, don't forget to keep an open mind with this group."

Steve huffed out a small laugh, but conceded all the same. "I'll see what I can do, Colonel."

Rhodes gave a nod and turned to leave, but stopped short and looked back at Steve. "By the way, feel free to call me Rhodey. No need to be so formal all the time, right?" He gave one last smile before finally making his way out of the room.

Steve took a deep breath in the silence, allowing himself a small moment before the inevitable weight of all that had happened clawed its way through him. As he breathed out, that weight began its slow descent to settle heavily on his shoulders, a feeling he used in turn to push himself out of the room in order to start on his own task of navigating through the mire of their present situation.