The flight back to the quinjet was done in a daze; Tony hardly remembered retrieving the suit, exiting the HYDRA facility at full speed in a desperate attempt to escape what he'd just seen. The haunting images stayed with him as he landed, faced his friends on the snowy ground as they rounded up the last stragglers. With the scepter in his grasp, he could barely look Thor in the eye, a flash of vision showing him dead at his feet. Mutely, he let the scepter change hands, the whir and clanking of his suit as he moved away his answer to any queries the god might have posed. He was too shaken to even give Natasha anything more than a clipped nod as he climbed into the jet. Cap...Steve...was already there, tapping through the touchscreens to make contact with higher authorities in regards to Strucker's detainment. Him, he avoided entirely, the reproach, the pleading the other man had said in his dream echoing through his mind. Exiting and deactivating the suit, he fought to control his breathing, closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the bulkhead for a moment.
Even with the retrieval of the scepter, it would not alter the future. There were more threats to the world than few he knew about, more than he could quantify, and his vision had sharply reminded him of that. And through his actions, through his choices, he could end up destroying everything good and right, leaving the rest of humanity vulnerable to the evil surrounding it.
Tony Stark could only look on as his friends lay dead at his feet, unseeing eyes accusing as they stared up at him. The desolate, cold rock beneath his feet would not give way as he fell to his knees, watching the earth be consumed by Chitauri leviathans, by creatures he could not recognize and craft he did not identify. It was his fault. Nothing he'd done could save it, save them...it wasn't enough.
Gasping, shaking, the tone begged him, the voice of a friend turned to ash and gravel...
A hand laid on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie, made him sidle sideways in surprise. Steve stood there, immediately drawing his hand away and lifting it, palm out. A gesture of peace, one that he readily accepted.
"Tony?" the captain asked, brow furrowing as his sharp blue eyes looked him over. Concern, no reprimand, was to be found there. "You okay?"
Swallowing, Stark merely shook his head, pasting on a calm facade as he glanced up at his compatriot. Still alive...they were still alive; he had to focus on that. Otherwise, he might go crazy. Cutting a glance at Barton, dozing on his gurney and his patchwork bandaging visible, he lifted his eyebrows.
"Compared to some, I'm fantastic." A lie, but he counted on his natural ability to cajole and charm to carry it off. Nodding across the way, he managed a faint smirk as Thor gently set the scepter to rest in its new holding case, built specifically for it some time ago. "Even better now."
The captain followed his gaze, a half smile coming to his lips, but when he looked back at Tony, the other man could see that he wasn't completely buying his story. It had been a long, hard road for them all, culminating to this point, and he knew firsthand that nobody simply walked away from such a thing. However, Stark was in no mood to enlighten him about how sudden and deep the scarring was for him. It was too fresh, too new, and he couldn't explain it. Not yet.
Deep down, he knew that Rogers could appreciate that, too, and allow it to let it be. For the moment, at least.
Bruce stumbled in then, shivering from cold in his shredded pants and his skin threatening to turn blue. Wordlessly, he nodded to his companions, making a beeline for his designated locker in a feverish attempt to find adequate clothing. Natasha had followed, the platform rising behind her and closing them off from the elements. The last of the HYDRA soldiers had been arrested, and Strucker was in the custody of Novi Grad's armed forces, for the time being. Taking his cue from the last arrival, Tony sidestepped the captain, striding to the forward controls, ready to leave the nightmare behind.
"On that note, time to get the hell outta Dodge," he muttered. Pausing in his step, he shot a smarmy look over his shoulder at Steve, waving a hand superfluously in his direction. "Excuse me: heck outta Dodge."
A derisive snort flew out of Rogers then, his eyes rolling. The mocking was anticipated; his slip of the tongue was definitely coming back to haunt him. "Of course."
The grin became a little more genuine, Stark's hidden horror lessening slightly as he took over the flight controls in Clint's stead. Concentrating, he warned the others of lift-off and quickly powered the quinjet up to the sky. He kept his focus on JARVIS's voice as the UI gave progress reports and commanded the Iron Legion away from the city, blotting out the others as they turned for home. Distractions, deflections, he recognized them for what they were. But for now, that was what he had to do. If he ever wanted to be able to walk away, he had to start here.
xXxXxXx
Fingers weaved in and out of his dark hair, curling in and out as he was lost in his fog.
Bruce was always a little hazy after his time as the Hulk, even more so now that the lullaby was being used to force him into a cool-down. The development of the chemical compound had been a proud moment for him, even if it did not completely eradicate the Hyde from his Jekyll; the fact that anything could prevent him from being the Hulk longer than was necessary was wonderful, no matter what. Still, the change was always too quick, a little too violent, scrambling his mind and leaving him lost, broken. The shift, physical and mental, was draining, sometimes to the point of feeling near death as he became himself again. In the darkest reaches of his mind, he wondered if perhaps one day it would actually kill him. Maybe he would be the last of the Hulk's victims...
The last one, the only one he would never have to think about, never have to remember the horror in their eyes and the terrible screams piercing his soul.
Shaking his head to himself, he pressed his palms over the headphones clapped upon his ears, music drowning out the rest of the world. Anything and everything filtered through the sound pieces, the tones and melodies bringing him back to Earth in a way that nothing else could. It was universal, something that the anger and rage could not destroy, something that still connected him to the rest of humanity. Often, though, he chose opera arias; something about them brought to mind purity, articulation and pitch removing him as far from his base side as he could be removed. One melded into the next; Puccini, then Wagner, Bellini...he streamed as many as he could, letting them pull him deeper.
The aria playing now called for peace, peace from heaven to be spread over the earth. He could appreciate the sentiment; it one of the deepest longings of his soul, to know true peace again. To drive away the fury, to leave behind the "other guy" permanently and live his life as he intended, in a place where he felt no danger and was no danger. Granted, what little he knew of the opera the music originated from told him that peace and war were subject to human emotion and error in judgment, but still, in the end, it was still better to try for it than charge headlong into disaster.
In his peripherals, Bruce could see her moving, approaching him with a careful smile and a brightness in her eyes that could still touch him, even in his darkness. As sh knelt in front of him, he hastily removed the headphones, turning off his iPod to give her his full attention. Now that his faculties were under control again, he could do so. Well, most of his faculties, he acknowledged as his gaze focused on her, lingering on the fall of her red curls and the curve of her chin.
"It's good to know that the compound is still so effective. It worked so well this time," she said, pleasure in her tone. It was true; the application done at her hand was becoming more and more effective each time, and even he was able to notice how quickly it had performed. Part of him hoped it would remain so, though in all likelihood this was just the calm before it leveled out, the dose becoming weaker as he built immunity. The thought turned his stomach.
Glancing away, he grinned sadly. "Still, sliding into a 'code green' was not supposed to happen."
The team always planned for it, always awaited it, but when a code green took him over, it was never something that could be prepared for. What he really hadn't expected was turning when he did. When that HYDRA sergeant raised his weapon, sweeping across and spraying bullets to scatter them. When he had Natasha in his sights, aiming to shoot her as she ran. The well of anger had risen swiftly, and the Hulk could not be held back any longer, seeing her in danger. Rationally, he knew that the reasoning did not make sense; Natasha was perfectly capable of handling herself in the field, she was no damsel in distress. And he wasn't some knight in shining armor.
But in that moment, he couldn't help himself.
He said none of this to her, let her instead comment on how his actions were for the better, limiting casualties and in turn even saving Clint's life. Her tone hadn't changed, but there was a sweetness to her gaze, leavening the practicality within. It was a look he'd rarely ever saw he give anyone else, a look that smoothed away her hard edges and brought her down to the human plane with the rest of them. It made him feel like...like she could bring him back down with her, like the man did not hide a beast deep inside. Or that the beast was nothing to fear.
Bruce could not remember the last time someone had looked at him that way, and it made his heart beat faster as he considered it. She should fear him, but she didn't. Hadn't for a long time now. Rather, she included him, made him part of the world around them in a way that he hadn't felt he was for years.
But that did not excuse the fact that the beast did exist, and one day she would be afraid again. Cocking his head to the right, he let the words wash over him. Hearing about the good he'd done, despite all the damage he'd conversely wrought, did not sit well with him. In his mind, there was little good to be had when it was done by a mindless monster. He told her as much, his brown eyes holding hers for a long moment.
"I don't know what I did, but I would think you'd be able to trust me by now, Banner," she asked, expression becoming serious, contemplative. A short breath escaped him, his head shaking once, twice, as the answer came to him.
"Believe me, it has nothing to do with trusting you," Bruce nearly whispered as he confessed that. She stared at him for another second or two, examining him and seeing the truth that he believed about himself. It was a truth that would never go away, no matter how hard he wished it could.
Lowering her eyes, she turned to Thor, requesting a report on the Hulk. He'd been close at hand, peering closely at the scepter just a few feet away, and could easily give a reply. His ready compliance, however, was not reassuring.
"Hel echoes with the screams of the damned, all cursing the name of the Hulk."
Immediately his head dropped into his hands, and he could only dip his chin up and down as Thor tried to backtrack, softening his pronouncement with denials of death. Still, hearing about the "wounded" victims (mentioning gout at one point, which gave Banner an idea of how honest he was being) did nothing to assuage the guilt in his heart, and he doubted anything ever could. Peering through his fingers, he could see the captain standing just behind, looking to the ceiling of the jet with a mixture of disbelief and humor on his face.
Perhaps he should have handed Thor a shovel to help him continue digging his verbal hole. Or just use the shovel to end his own torment, whichever came first.
Stark cut in then, asking whether or not Doctor Cho could have permission to set up more of her equipment in his lab, deflecting the awkward conversation away. She'd been away for a week, tending to her laboratory back in Seoul and further prepping her transition to New York. He sighed, glad that Tony had his back in that regard. Shifting away from the woman still kneeling in front of him, he pulled the headphones back on, hitting play and missing the disappointment flash like lightning in her eyes. The aria rose again, and the world began to slip away.
Silently, Natasha rose, pacing back to Barton's side, pausing only to give Thor a hard thump on the shoulder as she went. Wincing slightly, an involuntary exclamation left his lips as she gave him a stern look. The god looked askance at her, but no further reply was forthcoming.
xXxXxXx
Arriving back at the Tower in good time, Barton was immediately hustled away, Dr. Cho murmuring rapidly to her assistants as they pushed his gurney out of the quinjet to the medical bay. Nat followed hot on their heels, determined to stay at her friend's side. Thor, with the scepter tucked his arm, clattered away, with Banner exiting in the direction of the elevator. Inevitably he wanted a shower after tearing around and through dirt and dust; his microfiber pants were the only clothing to survive the transformation and would need a wash as well. Steve did not watch them go as he began to remove the medical supplies from the central console, storing them back in the containers. Kneeling down, he struggled to collapse a part of the floor to deposit a few more pieces of equipment. Maria Hill, all business, approached after the flurry died down, entering the jet confidently.
"Boss, I've got everything in the lab ready for you," she called, inclining her head in Tony's direction. The man in question, still at the helm, swiveled around in his chair, pointing lazily at the captain.
"If you want to get technical, I'm not the boss here," he replied, shrugging off the quick glance Steve darted at him over his shoulder. Effectively he was passing the buck onto Rogers, indicating that whatever data Hill had already dug through should go to someone else for the time being. He had limited time with the scepter; he wasn't going to waste it with minor details that could wait. "At this rate, I should declare myself the team's sugar daddy and be done with it."
The parting words launched, Stark gestured with a loose salute in the leader's direction, his rolling gait taking him to a side panel which he began to intentionally fiddle with. Finishing with his task (and blatantly ignoring the mock gesture), Steve got to his feet, all attention on Maria.
"Has Strucker been taken care of?" he asked, walking with her out of the hangar bay. Though he had been left in capable hands, Steve knew how slippery HYDRA agents could be. He would rest easier if the baron was apprehended by higher authorities, and quickly. In that regard, Maria was able to assuage him.
"They're processing him as we speak."
He barely paused, his relief buried deep under a layer of intensity. "There were a couple of Enhanced kids in the field. What about them?"
With those two taking the field during the fight, the team was curious as to who—what—exactly they had faced in Sokovia. As data had been mined and forwarded via JARVIS, the agent-turned-assistant back at the base had set about the task to answer those questions directly. What Maria had to say about the twins was not very encouraging. Handing over her tablet, she let him scroll through archived video footage of the pair at a protest, their home after it was wrecked by a rogue shell, medical records. Wanda and Pietro, they were called. The Blur and the Witch, as a derogatory report Steve scrolled by had named them. With Struker experimenting on the Maximoffs, combined with their recent exploits as activists and protesters, there was no doubt in his mind that the two would make a play in the near future. "Fast and weird" did not begin to cover what the twins were capable of.
After all, they did place themselves willingly in the hands of manipulators and madmen for the sake of their country, if the files were anything to go by. They had the strength and the will to do a lot of damage. He understood that mentality all too well.
It all depended on when and where they chose to make their mark.
Leaving Hill in the hangar hall, he took the elevator to the equipment floor, intent on shedding his uniform and changing into less bulky clothing. Laying a hand to the scanner, the wall opened up, a storage locker sliding out seamlessly. Glancing at the shirt and trousers he'd abandoned in his haste earlier, he noticed his personal tablet slipped onto the floor at some point. Grumbling to himself, he swooped down to pick it up, the blinking light of a notification catching his eye. One missed video call. Tapping through it, he maneuvered blindly away from his storage space, waiting impatiently as he attempted to return the call. A few seconds and fumbling taps through the microphone later, it connected, and he smiled at the familiar face filling the screen.
"Hey, doll," he greeted. Holly's answering grin was just as wide as his, just as happy to hear from him as he was to see her.
"Hey. I called earlier to check in, but you were out still," she responded, one shoulder shrugging. She sat back in her chair, the telltale creak of it giving it away as her office one (if the metal cabinets behind her didn't gave away her location already). Her dark brown eyes peering closely at the screen, flicking over the image of his face. "Looks like you're all in one piece."
He tipped his head to the left, smirking a bit. "More or less."
"Thank God," she breathed in a near whisper. The depth of relief in those words made his heart ache a little; he knew how much she worried for him while he was on mission. Taking a second to inhale, she gave him an inquisitive look, lifting her eyebrows playfully. "How much more or less? Gotta budget for tux alterations if that's the case. Particularly if something happened to your legs."
He barely managed to cut off a barking laugh, turning down the hall towards the stairs. Morbid humor didn't always have a place, but in the moment, it served to lessen the residual worry in her tone and steer the conversation away.
"I could always go the traditional route in that regard; I wear a kilt, it'll cover everything."
She wrinkled her nose, snickering. "Provided there aren't any strong winds. I thought that was a Scottish thing."
Steve shook his head. "It's a Celtic thing, dear. That covers the Irish, too."
"Well, not to naysay the culture, but I think we could do without that tradition for the wedding," Holly demurred, free hand flicking a few fingers towards the ceiling. Even with her smile remaining, the set of her gaze was sincere as she continued, "But seriously, you're okay?"
Climbing the steps now, he inclined his head slightly. "Scrapes and bruises are the worst of it for me."
Her head tilted to the right in acknowledgment, her brow furrowing a little as she digested that news. "And the others?"
Steve exhaled slowly, pausing in his ascent for a second. "Barton took a hit."
Her palm covered her mouth, eyes going wide. Her reaction was unsurprising; she and Clint had started to form a bond over the last several weeks during her self-defense training. Naturally, she would be concerned about him, too.
"Oh, my God. How is he?"
Continuing his climb, he glanced over at the far walls, the glass panels barely providing no shelter at the moment. Tony was in the front laboratory, focus intent on the scepter hovering before him. In the far room, he could see Barton laying atop an examination table, some device jerry-rigged over him, spraying tissue substitute over his wound. Both doctors were at his side, nodding and responding to a question he'd asked.
"Helen's looking at him now, using that alternative to the Cradle that she has," he told her, flipping the screen briefly in an attempt to show her. Turning it back to himself after awhile, he sighed. "He'll recover. Good thing he'll have the time."
"Oh, not rushing off immediately for the next base for once?" Holly joked weakly, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Off Steve's earnest look, she blinked, smile slipping slowly. "What?"
"HYDRA is too broken to be a real threat now," he told her, arriving in one of the private sitting areas. The reality of the statement was beginning to wash over him now, pushing him down into a chair and drawing his focus to the far wall.
"So...what are you saying?" Holly asked tentatively, as though she feared she would tempt fate by speaking. "...It's over?"
Instant denial sprang on his tongue, but he managed to swallow it down. If it wasn't over yet, it was very nearly so. The enormity of the thought pressed upon him. For over seventy years, HYDRA had been a secret threat to everything he, and the world, held dear. To discover that they had survived after his fall was disheartening. To realize that the team would be able to end them permanently was astounding. Sinking further into his seat, he let out a deep sigh.
"There are still threats out there, but that's one less to worry about for the time being," he murmured cautiously. Drawn back to the screen, he watched as Holly's mouth opened and closed a few times, words and emotions struggling to get out and not succeeding.
"That's...I don't know what to say," she replied, passing a hand over her brow and sliding her fingers back into her hair. Steve dipped his chin, rolling his shoulders back.
"Trust me, I know the feeling," he said, voice somewhat faint as the rush of feelings threatened to overwhelm him. Clearing his throat and trying to push them down, he went on, "Anyway, in light of that fact, Tony's planning on throwing a party in a few days. Sort of a farewell thing, in Thor's case, since he'll be headed back to Asgard for awhile."
A corner of her mouth lifted. "Poor Jane. And of course there's a party. Can always count on Stark to celebrate even the most minor victory with a major shindig."
"Or revels, as Thor called them, which will probably give you an idea of the likely scale of events on Friday," he responded, combing his fingers through his hair. Tipping his head shyly, he asked, "You interested in going?"
For a moment, she tapped a finger to her chin, giving the matter some thought. Narrowing her eyes, it was impossible to miss the glint in her gaze. "I suppose it would be awkward for me to not show for it, considering I'll be up for the weekend anyway, huh?"
"A little bit," Steve conceded, mirroring her faux contemplative look. Cupping the air, she dashed the look away with a wave of her hand.
"Well, then, that's settled." It would take some finagling, given that she would have to leave D.C. early to arrive on time for it, but she could make it happen. "I'll be there, parading you on my arm with pride."
Steve snorted at the mental image that cropped up from that statement. "No need for the parade."
"Fine," Holly said, brushing the idea away. Leaning her chin into her hand, her expression softened. "Would you settle for a dance instead?"
A piece of his heart simultaneously ached and swelled at the invitation. "Sure."
"Super swell." Holly gave him a clipped nod, her wide smile encouraging him to return it. Raising an eyebrow at her choice of words, he chuckled under his breath.
"Great. Sam will be in town, too." Steve had not heard from him in a couple of weeks, and he wanted to rectify that. It had been a flyby call, both of them needed elsewhere (Sam at the VA, Steve having to catch the quinjet for a mission), but they were able pass updates regarding each other's lives. Amongst the things shared was that a family member required Sam's presence at a function that weekend, bringing him back to the Big Apple. He couldn't rightly remember what for, but he could always ask him if he chose to come to the party as well. "Something to do with his cousin, but I'll ask him to swing by."
Concentrating on the toe of his boot, his brow creased in thought at considering the other things they needed to touch base on.
"We need to talk about the progress with the, um, missing person case, probably sometime later in the weekend." Wary for prying eyes and ears, he couldn't risk referring to the ongoing circumstances about Bucky's disappearances in any other way. "I want to get a jump on that, since I'll have a little more time now."
Glancing back at the screen, he witnessed the quickest flit of emotions in her face. It had occurred a few times recently, not enough to register as something wrong but enough to get his attention when it did happen. Something was on Holly's mind, something that she was not sharing. It didn't sit well with him; in all honesty, it made him nervous to see it. Whatever was going on, it was important enough for her to want to keep a lid on it.
"Right. Good thinking," she commended him, her tone a bit more wooden than he would have expected. His eyes narrowed a bit, scanning her for another reaction. When none was forthcoming, he exhaled slowly.
"You okay?" Steve inquired, wanting to get to the heart of the matter, finally. However, she would not be led into a confession; even though he knew better, he considered it worth the chance to give her the opening to speak. She half turned her head to the right, eyes cutting towards something beyond the screen of the device she was using (phone, he had to guess), shrugging slightly.
"Yeah. It's just that I'm at work." She gave him a weary grin, the look in her gaze saying more than words could. "If I get caught..."
A true statement, as well as a deflection. He groaned inwardly when he realized it, but upon checking the clock on his tablet, he thought better than to push it. "Best not give your boss more ammunition to use against you."
A smirk decorated her lips. "Much as I'd rather talk to you than go over reports, I'd better get cracking."
"Glad to know where I stand," he riposted, her answering scoff coming fast on his heels.
"As if there was any doubt about it. I'll call you when I get home, okay?"
"Sounds like a plan," Steve concurred, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'll be around for it; I'll be neck deep in data myself for the next few days, giving Nat a hand while Barton's recovering. Definitely won't be going anywhere."
It couldn't be said that he had happily volunteered for the job, but he knew that Clint did not need to exert himself or put strain on his wound unduly, even to trek between floors to meet with Nat and filter through the numerous files accrued. It would keep him busy, at least; it wouldn't be likely he'd see much of Bruce or Tony in that time, as both of them would want to investigate the scepter's components and powers in the short time that they had. However, he wasn't altogether pleased to do paperwork.
"You'd welcome the distraction?" Holly's eyes were hooded as she spoke, her hair shifting and framing her face in soft waves as she leaned forward slightly. The promise in her tone stirred him, and he couldn't help the slow burn that made its way down his body.
"Gladly, doll," he told her, the timber of his voice deepening, her eyes darkening in want and anticipation.
Upon the hope of those words, the couple signed off their devices. On her end, Holly tossed the phone away from her, it landing with a thump on the stack of papers beside her monitor, thoughts pulling away from the edge little by little. They came to rest on his proclamation to refocus on the issues with Barnes, to get back into the loop with his partner. She had been honest when she told her fiance it would be good to meet up with Sam, even if she did not sound like she meant it. With both of them in the same vicinity, she could take the time to relay what she knew about Bucky, instead of having to rehash the story (as she knew would be the case). They both needed to know, and she did not want to keep the truth hidden any longer.
After the party, she told herself, leaning forward to open a new document on her computer. She would tell Steve everything then. She did not want to spoil the team's public victory, or his private one. It could wait for just a little while longer.
A/N: A tad bit late...I had a sudden couple of work shifts thrust upon me, so it made a slight delay in posting. Worry not, it has arrived!
This chapter straight up kicked my butt. Seriously. But I was able to get it churned out.
We haven't heard from Tony in awhile, and he wanted to be the opener for the chapter. Granted, not the happiest of openers, but the fact that he pretty much saw his friends die before his eyes and then has to go on like it wasn't a traumatic vision was intriguing. Also, I wanted to touch on Bruce for a bit as well.
I own nothing of the MCU, nor the opera Norma, which the aria Bruce listened to on the quinjet comes from.
Next chapter...party time, oh yes.
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!