There was a little bit of an issue with dates (who can blame me, really, there's more time travel than "Heroes" in these comic books and there's not exactly a comprehensive timeline for these losers). The dates will be explained in this chapter, and I changed the summary to avoid any further confusion :)

Bruce tried not to stare; he really did. But the apartment was worse than some of the places he'd stayed in his whole "hide in third-world countries so the Hulk doesn't destroy everything" tour. That's saying something.

Everything smelled a little like smog and like smoke, and Bruce was pretty sure he saw one of those giant rats Tony had been breeding for his robot cat experiment (don't ask). When Steve had finally closed the window to usher them all up, it had slid shut with a sort of groan, making them all wince.

Steve hustled them into his apartment, apologizing by name to a curious neighbor who stuck her head out the door to find out what was going on and got a Natasha-glare instead. The door shut behind them with an almost depressing squeak, and Bruce was just happy it didn't fall off its hinges.

As soon as they were alone and mostly secure, everyone whirled on Tony. He chuckled nervously.

"Technically, we don't know that this is my fault. It was the cell phone that got all...sparky and squeaky!"

Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand over his too-small face. He looked even smaller in the dim light of the Depression-era apartment, making Bruce wonder how he'd even survived before the serum.

"Can you explain, at least, how we got here?"

Natasha asked.

"And why I lost the serum?"

Steve added, looking miserable.

Bruce would like to know that too, actually, but felt pity on his fellow science bro (dammit, now he was doing it; Tony was going to be so proud) and offered up his best guess, polishing his reading glasses and stowing them in his pocket.

"Well, obviously, the box was capable of time travel. It probably reacted with the signals from the cell phone and booted up. But maybe the box… tried to prevent a paradox or something and placed you in your original body? Just a guess."

Clint looked to be thinking hard. A small, mischievous grin played at his eyes.

'I'm calling it the magical-explodey box. MEB for short."

Natasha stared at him, then after a moment, whacked him on the shoulder.

"Right, so the… magical explodey box decided that, since we aren't born yet, we wouldn't like, cause the fabric of space and time to rip and leave all of time irreparably damaged and suck the universe as we know it into a black hole."

Tony told them cheerfully, continuing with Bruce's chain of thought.

"But Steve here already exists,"

Tony put a hand on the super-soldier's shoulder,

"sooo, he gets thrown back into the body that would make grown men cry, and here we are."

Steve sighed, again, and pushed a stack of sketchbooks off of a chair and a couch so they had a space to sit.

Bruce fought the urge to thumb through them, remembering how much a Captain America sketchbook went for in his time. There was a line, even if Tony didn't know it.

They sat down on the rickety couch that also probably doubled as a bed.

"So what year did the MEB send us to?"

Natasha asked calmly, ignoring Clint's double fist-pump at the name catching on.

Steve looked around.

"Well, obviously, I still look like this,"

Steve gestured vaguely to the skin-and-bones body he was currently inhabiting (reinhabiting? weird), looking slightly embarrassed.

"So before 1943."

Clint cut into the conversation, although he hadn't looked to be paying attention, perched dangerously close the edge of the head of the couch.

"And after '29, 'cause there was the Empire State building." Bruce thought. "So there's about a 7 year margin, because you're obviously over preteen years."

Steve nodded, not even trying to work out the math. Bruce didn't blame him. This whole thing was way too confusing as it was.

"We can work with that. Now, how do we get home?"