The Eleventh Hour

by PhantomProducer

The world has changed, and changed again. At the eleventh hour, the swift actions of a few will decide the fate of many as a new age threatens to end it all. Though she is no hero, she will make sure that she will do all she can, for the hero she loves. Sequel to the CA fanfic, "At Day's End." Part two of the "Of Time" series. Complete.

23. Chapter 23

The charter the twins had commandeered was, surprisingly, operated by a human crew. It turned out that the older one, the male, had some pull back in Sokovia; they were old schoolmates who had a plane of their own and would hire out to private persons. Backed by Ultron's stolen monetary transactions, they were willing to overlook a lot over the last few days, flying to and from places without anyone suspecting them. On the condition that when they were finished, they would be free and clear of all liability, were the able to justify their actions. Given the interior of the plane, it appeared that the schoolmates, the captain and co-pilot, were doing well enough without the robot's contribution, what with the small bar and leather seats in the main cabin (not to mention the high definition televisions mounted and blaring the news). Steve's expression remained stoic as he boarded after the twins, their swift conversation with the fellows guttural and harsh-sounding to his ears. When they spotted him coming through the hatch, they were shocked, and clearly had thought the Maximoffs had gone insane.

They did turn coat fairly hard, Steve had conceded; it would be confusing at the very least to people who understood the minimum about their past. Still, they had their money, and moreover, the male twin announced in English that they were free to go after depositing them in New York City. Objections were stilled, and with only one last cursory glance to the tall blond fellow, they moved into the cockpit, closing themselves off from the trio.

As take-off was executed, reports began to roll in, relief efforts being made for the city of Seoul and the speculation about the Avengers' appearance there rolling in the background. A fair number had caught footage of Pietro and Wanda, mostly as the young man had zipped around in front of the train to protect civilians, the girl's auras manifesting on the outside of the vehicle as it eventually slowed. Neither of them looked upon the television with relish, not particularly enjoying the varying terms used for them ("freak" was bandied about most often, and even Steve, who had himself been victim to their powers, thought it to be harsh). Eventually, the young woman rose from her seat, changing the channel over to a film that was so light and airy that none of them paid it any real mind.

After going to the back to check in on the comm line once more, Steve returned to the seat he claimed as his own. Tapping into the Tower's communication lines, he eventually was patched through to Holly, who had been deputized to act as liaison in Hill's stead for the moment. Other than hearing that Clint was en route and Bruce had been tweaking things around the lab, she'd heard nothing else all day. She was neck deep in her own projects (something about nonprofits and aid foundations, which he would have to ask the details for when there was more time). They were all well, but none of them were willing to reach out to him. And Stark was still neglecting to respond, which meant he'd either taken out the ear piece or turned it off. That worried the captain. He tried to excuse it, theorizing that perhaps Tony was still in Oslo, hunting down their mysterious online ally. Perhaps the person who was taking advantage and blocking Ultron from accessing nuclear codes was more of an enemy, one that the billionaire did not want to put the team at risk for. Still, with no answers, he could not quell the nerves as they snapped along his veins. Sinking down into his seat with a sigh, he rested his hand on his helmet, perched beside him on the leather. His shield was tucked off to one side, ready to be retrieved at a moment's notice. His gaze darted around the cabin, instinctively shying away from the female twin at the far end and instead focusing on her brother. The fellow was not sitting down; rather, he was pacing back and forth about the small space, fingers fidgeting and hazel eyes sweeping from one window to another. The lack of comfort that surrounded him was off-putting, and it made Steve curious.

"There a problem?" he asked, keeping his tone as genial as possible. Glancing up, the younger man suppressed a grimace and shrugged.

"Still not used to this," he murmured, gesturing to the opulence they inhabited for the time being. Noticing the stiffness in his posture, the captain nodded.

"I understand," he intoned quietly, shifting in his seat. And he did, honestly; conditions aside, he had not totally adjusted to being part of a world, being part of a team, that had unlimited access to the finer things. When it came to armor and weapons, he was more inclined to accept...up to a point. Those were things he used in the service of the greater good; anything else offered didn't feel right to him, not if he hadn't earned it. The twins had been born into a relatively stable existence, but after their parents had died they were shunted off within the Sokovian foster system, the economy less and less stable as time went on. They were not born into such things, unlike some people, and once the gilt wore off, they were aware of the vast differences between their past and present circumstances.

For his part, the younger man looked skeptical. Raising an eyebrow, he maintained eye contact with the captain, refusing to back down. "Do you?"

Steve shrugged, the creak of the leather behind his back punctuating his movement. "I grew up a poor kid in Brooklyn in the thirties. All of it is strange to me, to some degree."

The girl looked up then, her musings broken as the sentence sat in the air. She, and her brother, had forgotten that this man really was a man out of time. Obviously, he did not look it, save for the deep worry in his eyes and his posture, which spoke of a lifetime of experiences they would never know about. Remembering the people they fought against were just humans escaped them at times; their objective against them, their biases against them, had warped the men and woman of the opposing side into nothing more than hateful symbols. Pietro shot a look at Wanda before focusing on the captain again.

"You don't act like it is." The challenge was less than that, and more like an inquiry. The younger man looked to the older, curiosity lining his features. To cope, to live in this life, as something different…something more…he wondered how he did it. Pietro was still finding his way, Wanda too, but they were in the company of a man who knew what it was like. The world had been turned upside down, inside out, and then turned ninety degrees for him, and yet he seemed unflappable.

The clouds gathering at the edges of the blue irises held some of the answer, but he did have more to say.

"Had to learn to take it in stride." The captain shrugged again, chin drooping a little as he went on. "Comes with the territory. But it does affect me, still."

Pietro nodded, supplying, "Deep down."

No matter how settled he appeared to be, Steve knew better. The world, the present times, he was still at a loss in. His abilities, though a wonderful gift, could still be jarring on odd days, when he glanced in the mirror and found the little, skinny guy staring back at him. As he shifted his gaze between the two, he wondered who they saw staring back in the glass.

"Yes. It's not all bad, though," he replied, his voice hushed. Pietro inclined his head after a second or two, his stride calming enough for him to take his seat. The fidgeting of his fingers slowed, and soon enough he lolled his head back against the headrest, lids closing in a doze. The girl, occupied with the twisting of the rings on her fingers, got up once her brother dropped off, heading to the back of the cabin to the kitchenette. Her steps faltered, and her eyes scanned over him. Skittering, crawling worked over Steve's skin as she looked on, and he had to force himself not to shudder. It was an involuntary reaction, but he didn't have to let her see it.

"No, not all of it is bad," she said softly. His eyebrow inclined as she continued to look, though now it was more around him than directly at him. Off his inquisitive expression, she flicked a few fingers, thankfully without any of her aura attached that time. "It's easier to read, now. Your soul."

Steve blinked. "I thought your thing was mental manipulation."

Lines became pronounced in her forehead, and as she indicated a denial, the captain felt a flush crawl up his neck.

'Well done, Rogers. Just blurt the first thing that comes to mind,' he chided himself inwardly. Cutting a glance away, he missed the short spring of amusement in her irises.

"I do not read minds. It's more…emotional. I can see what is felt. It is…what is the word? Vissy, vis…" she trailed off, trying to equate the English word aloud. Her brow screwed up in concentration as she filtered through the second language, the word eluding her for a few moments longer. Lighting upon the answer himself, the captain saw no reason to keep her mired in that way.

"Visceral," Steve coughed, the glint in her gaze growing.

"That, yes." She sat down across from him then, palms twisting against each other as she tried to explain her powers from her viewpoint. Wanda felt compelled to clarify, for a reason she could not name. Perhaps it was so someone would know, besides her brother, that what she could do was not all that simple, not purely black text on a print-out. Perhaps, perhaps she wanted to show her hand so that the playing field would be level. There was nothing in her that should want a former enemy to know the truth of her abilities…but slowly she was realizing that she could not afford to think of the Avengers as enemies. At the very least, she could not let the man before her think that. She owe him that much, as he was giving them a chance to be more. "And when your soul is not clouded in anger, it becomes clearer. In yours, I can see things...imprints."

Wanda hesitated, looking to Steve and assessing his current state. He held himself erect, his breathing tempered as she peered inside. If she concentrated hard enough, she could see the echoes of those closest to him, the feelings they inspired in him shaping them in her consciousness. More than that, his emotions, and motivations, inspired by them washed over her in waves. Whether he truly intended to (and she was certain he did not want her to look deeper than he was comfortable with) the shapes formed, the significant ones cresting with his emotions.

"You do all this for them, not for yourself," she whispered, her stomach clenching as she began to realize the depths she'd gone to. Manipulating fears was done easily enough when she had loathed the enemy with every fiber of her being, when she had nothing but the wall of indifference and rage thrown up. It was crumbling every minute she spent away from HYDRA, from Ultron, the sick dream of his threatening the reality of the world. Her defection to the other side was making her see things differently, and she wasn't sure she liked what she saw in herself in retrospect. "You fight for them, fear for them."

Steve watched her warily, his breathing still tempered as he considered her observations. "In our own way, we all do."

There was a pointed edge to his words, reminding her that his motives were shared by the others of the team. Sure, they didn't exactly follow his to the letter, but in the end, all the Avengers wanted was to help the people who needed it most, protect the world from the worst of the evils within it. And, like the others, there were specific people he wanted to keep safe. A wave of feeling swept through him as he thought on her, and Wanda literally jerked back at the intensity of it. Silence fell between them as she recovered, blinking rapidly to dispel the ripples surrounding her mind.

"She knows this," her hushed tone cut through the quiet, a hand combing her auburn tresses over one shoulder. Boldly, she met the captain's eye, and saw the hard set of his jaw clench tighter for a few moments before relaxing.

"Yes."

With that, the shutters came down, and he refused to concede more than that. Wanda had already dug in deep, and he did not want her to go after his emotions, his fear, again, even if a part of his brain was pointing out that she was unlikely to do so any longer. In turn, her head drooped, focusing on her knees and respecting his wishes, oddly enough. Her hands splayed over them, her mother's rings shining in the light as it cut through the cabin's windows. Contrary to opinion, she did not know what visions she wrought upon her victims. She could only sense the weaknesses, exploiting them and using her powers to twist another person's mind enough so that they could finish the work themselves. It was what she did to Stark, after all; the acrid fear and anguish broiled around him, and it was easy work to manipulate it. It was what she'd done to them all...and for the first time in a long while, she felt that had been wrong. A man, living, breathing, feeling, sat across from her; a human being, not an entity, not a mindless, soulless arm of an organization she'd despised for years. All the others, they were just like him: the factory workers she'd frightened, the security officers...hell, even the god, the Hawk, and the Black Widow. Another set of eyes flashed in her memory, dark and pained as she cornered him, his face contorting as his skin turned sickly and green. Him, too.

Regret, remorse, was a hard knot in her stomach. But she would not be cowed by it. Exhaling sharply, she got to her feet again, turning to go where she'd originally intended. Taking a couple steps, she stopped, half turning and looking back to the older man, his face blank and placid. The wariness in his eyes had returned, curiosity surfacing beneath.

"I'm sorry." Her tongue had moved on its own accord, but it made her sentiments no less heartfelt. There had to be some good to come out of the tenuous partnership she and her brother were embarking on, and it could start here. If they could not stop Stark's meddling (and she knew he would not be able to resist, not with the way she'd play upon his insecurities), she could at the very least make amends for the troubles she'd caused. An eyebrow inclined at her, and she could not quite suppress the squirm that shot down her body. Soon enough, the captain shook his head, leaning it back against the rest and sighing softly.

"It's done with," he replied. Not a total acceptance, nor a complete rejection. The olive branch was extended, the genuine motivation behind it easily discernible. The marks on his soul would not allow Steve to simply swallow the girl's apology and move on, but the fact of the matter was that he had to abide it. The bigger picture was more important, and with global destruction on the horizon, they needed to reach a certain level of peace. He could meet her that far, at least.

Her muted footsteps faded away as she went, and that was the end of that.

xXxXxXx

Holly, by mid-afternoon, had come to a couple conclusions.

The first of which was that Maria Hill had to be the living embodiment of a saint. For around a year, she'd been Tony Stark's assistant, media liaison, and general gofer for Stark Industries, as well as for the Avengers. For every moment of discord, of displacement, she was the one to field the distressed phone calls, answering furious emails and soothing over any sort of wounds inflicted by the company, by her boss, and by the team. Add into the mix that she still maintained ties on the side with Nick Fury, and Holly was certain that the woman's patience levels were astronomical. Sure, she had worked long years in customer service, but not even she was prepared for the daily verbal assaults that would come over the Avengers Tower's phone lines. After taking a few messages down for Maria's later inspection, she eventually just followed her joking advice and walked herself through a digital version of unplugging the line.

The second conclusion was that Stark could not have been paying her enough to put up with the relentless duties she took on. It was nearly impossible to try and keep tabs on the guy. While that wasn't necessarily part of her duties at the moment (all which basically consisted of staying out of trouble and not setting the building on fire until the team returned, in any order) she was taking it upon herself to at least try and figure out where the remaining Avengers were. Steve had called in himself, which eased some of the nerves rumbling her stomach, but other than that she'd heard nothing. Bruce aided her in between their separate projects, attempting several different modes of communication before the billionaire responded. His private jet was on its way from Oslo, his tone distant and snappy as he reported in. They were clogging up his inbox, and it would take hours for him to wade through it all. Merely taking his griping in stride, the doctor took out the device to the lab with him, leaving Holly with a brief few moments of peace before she forced herself to get back to work.

Attempting to forge new policies, new companies, and open channels to existing ones was tough, and even if she was only responsible for a tiny share of the work, it wasn't smooth by any means. She'd had to take a break a few times, just to quell the frustration enough so she wouldn't start crying tears of rage. Still, she'd agreed to embark on the course that Fury agreed with her on and Maria had started setting up, and she was going to do it. It was either that, or sit downstairs in the living quarters, fretting over everything happening and not being sure what to do with herself.

Early evening was descending on the city when the Tower's radar sent a digital alert, the presence of the quinjet coming in making her jump from her seat. Jogging lightly, she padded down the hall to the elevator, rushing out to meet the arrival in the hanger bay. The hatch lowered as she approached, but the occupant within had not come out. Curious, she swiped a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear as she hesitantly moved up the platform.

"Clint!" she called out, squinting and peering into the darkness of the vehicle's interior.

"Holly," the response came, the older man coming into view as she entered fully into the jet. He was in his full regalia, though the bow was stashed away elsewhere. As the system was going through its cooldown, he had moved on to a large, rectangular box. The digital displays mounted into the crafted metal chirped as his fingers slid across, beeps echoing harshly as he failed to unlock it. Glancing up at her, his bright eyes seemed to glimmer a bit, even if the concern lining his face had not decreased. "Good to see you, kiddo."

Motioning down to the box, he walked around to the end, bracing against it and pushing. Catching her nonplussed stare, he rolled his eyes at her.

"Here, help me with this," he murmured, grunting a little as he tried to move it on his own again. Holly snorted audibly, eyebrows shooting up.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, not sure that they could even move the thing an inch with her aid.

Barton dipped his chin, blowing out a short breath. "Just to the service elevator. Come on."

Another sharp gesture was cast in her direction, and Holly grumbled under her breath, obeying his request. After finagling with the box for a bit (it had gotten caught on the lip of the in-floor storage when it was transferred, thus making it difficult to move), the pair got it rolling down the hall. Walking it past the regular elevator, they took it to the more expansive one at the opposite end, its course leading directly into the lab upstairs. Carefully, Holly inquired about any updates regarding the team, as she'd heard nothing since Steve's call. Clint, swiping a hand over his brow and frowning, reported that Natasha had been captured, taken by Ultron. The tracking devices in her suit and equipment had been deactivated, most likely fried by the insidious robot, and it was impossible to get a trace on her. So far as he knew (and Holly confirmed it), the captain was still several hours behind him, and Thor was still off the grid as well.

However, there was still some good to be had, even with everyone scattered to the four winds: Doctor Cho's Cradle had been taken out of the twisted automaton's hands, repossessed by the team to be broken down and destroyed. Holly nodded at that, recalling the newscasts coming in from Seoul over the Tower's interface as she worked. Oddly enough, there had been reports of two unnamed people aiding the Avengers in their still-unknown quest, a man and a woman who appeared to have manifested great powers. Drawing her own conclusions, she couldn't help but wonder if the Enhanced had truly good intentions, or if they were playing a long game for their own benefit. Soon enough, the elevator stopped, the doors swishing open and allowing her to help Clint push the console to the center of the room. Monitors were ringed around the space, outlets ready for hook-up in case they needed it. Banner, already stationed at one of the monitors, quickly fired off a message. A few minutes later, another fellow emerged, hands tucked into his pockets and his dark eyes exhausted. Contemplation lit up his face as he stared down at the retrieved console, and Tony quirked a smirk at the young lady across the room. He'd arrived back a few hours ago, but it did not seem that he was able to shake his jet lag just yet.

"Has anybody heard about Natasha?" Bruce's voice broke through, as aware of the present situation as any of them. The billionaire and the archer both shook their heads, postures tensing as they thought upon their captured comrade.

"No, but she has to be alive still," Stark pointed out quietly, tapping a finger along the keys of the nearest monitor. "Otherwise, Ultron would be rubbing our noses in the failure."

Holly bit her lip then. It was true; the robot would like nothing more than to have a reason to jerk the Avengers' chains. If he wanted to cause them pain, killing one of them would do the trick. Shrugging against the cold shudder that coursed along her body, she instead peered closely at the Cradle. It had been Helen's pride and joy, a machine that would aid in the reconstruction of the human body after severe injury and trauma. It was supposed to revolutionize healthcare around the globe, once it passed its trials. To have it be manipulated, warped into producing a body for an evil automaton's consciousness, had to be heartbreaking. Mists obscured the body withing, keeping it in stasis, and she could barely make out a face. Slowly she pulled back, slightly afraid the thing might open its eyes or something of the like. Her focus ran along the seamless design of the Cradle, unbroken and clean. And, most likely, locked up tighter than Fort Knox (Barton said as much, shaking his head disdainfully at the object in question as he did so).

"What exactly are you guys gonna do to this thing?" she wondered, pressing a palm on the glass. When the body inside did not react in any way, she let a finger on her opposite hand run along the edge of it. "Looks pretty impregnable."

"We'll have to walk it through a deactivation protocol, starting with the operational systems and work our way from there," the doctor said, stepping up to the console and using his rudimentary understanding of Korean to begin the work. Glancing up, he noted the young woman's unsure look, and he thought that perhaps it would be wise to state the objective more plainly. "We're gonna fry it from the inside out, essentially."

Hooking a thumb up, Holly inhaled sharply. She'd gotten the gist of what he was getting at before, but on the positive side, he did not make his simpler explanation sound condescending.

"Gotcha."

Stark circled the console, gently hooking his palm around the crook of Holly's elbow to draw her back. His jaw worked, gaze flying from one end of it to the other. A strange sort of glimmer reflected over his dark irises as he examined the thing, stared at the vibranium body covered in mists. Something about his look caught her attention, made Holly stare. His mind was working hard, that much was clear, but to what end? Suddenly, he spotted her observations, masking the look with a twist of the lips and a hand carding through his close-cropped hair.

Turning to the archer, he inquired, "In the meantime, Super Spy Numero Dos: do you think Natasha might try to reach out in another way? Like in pre-nineties Bond-era ways?"

Barton removed his hands from his hips, concentrating on a point on the floor as he considered it. "I've got a few ideas. I'll get started on it..."

Pivoting on his heel to head downstairs, the other man paused, screwing up his brow and shooting a questioning look over his shoulder.

"Wait, Numero Dos?"

Stark shrugged. "Well, she joined the team before you, technically, so..."

Letting the comment go, Clint departed, intent on finding a non-traceable, non-digital avenue to connect with Romanoff on. Nodding once to himself, the shifting in Tony's peripherals pulled his focus. The young woman still in the room had moved to look at the monitors, connecting a cable when the doctor instructed her to. The billionaire watched her for a moment, contemplating allowing her to stay. After all, it was unlikely she would be of any consequence to his plans; she had reached out to him after the whole party attack went down. She'd offered sympathy, in her own way. However...he knew the girl, knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't take his proposition sitting down. Bruce, he was sure would be willing to try, but she...her thoughts often ran similarly to the uptight member of the morality brigade that she called her fiancé. And more than that, he was fairly certain she would have something to say about it, to the captain if not to his face directly. The kid did have a propensity to speak up when she thought it was necessary, and she might deem it so. Particularly if she felt something was wrong, from her point of view.

Holly couldn't be in the way, much like Clint couldn't be. They couldn't understand why, and so they had to be maneuvered out.

Clearing his throat, he stepped up to her, scratching his neck and waiting until she looked fully at him. "Pepper said she's expecting a call from you sometime. Something to do with a big project or whatever."

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, a hand passing over her face. "Shit. I was going to do that, but with everything going so weird..."

"You should probably get on that," Tony interjected, the excuse his girlfriend had lovingly provided for him coming in useful. "It sounds important, and if I know my girl, she'll want to get that stuff on lockdown."

Though the details were shaky, Stark had an inkling of what they were trying to do. It seemed to be a set of contingency plans if things went sour, but that wasn't his main focus. In any case, he would encourage the pursuit, if for no other reason that it would remove the brunette from the laboratory for a long enough time.

"Sure, yeah..." she said, her tone hesitant. Her dark eyes, just a shade or two lighter than his own, swept around the space. When they settled back on him, he idly wondered if she had an idea of what he was doing. Maybe, given the way that she made no move for the door, but he wouldn't let that deter him. When he nodded and flapped a shooing hand at her, she plodded away, stopping on the threshold. "I'll be back in awhile."

"No rush," Banner muttered, sliding his glasses up his nose and bending to take a closer look at the console. "This is going to take some time."

The billionaire spread his hands wide, palm out and smirk blooming. "If you're looking for explosions and fireworks, sorry."

That earned him a wry grin in return, the smidgeon of humor in her gaze flaring as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "That is a shame."

When the glass door swung shut, Stark breathed out carefully. If they were going to do this, if he wanted a chance to set things right, they would have to act quickly. And without interruption, he mused, pulling out his handheld and activating the lab's door locks.

xXxXxXx

One floor below, Hawkeye set himself up in one of the empty offices, dragging equipment from various floors into it. With some tweaking, he set up the space to look like a central command room of sorts, save for the fact that all the materials within predated the tech of the last twenty-five years. Nothing digital was safe; the Internet was owned by Ultron, overseen with an almost omniscient eye as he scanned for any news, any betrayal of the Avengers' whereabouts. All radio channels opened, landlines exhumed, everything Barton could think of that couldn't be monitored by data bytes or WiFi. Headphones were connected to the panels, which reminded him to pull his ear piece out, wiping it with a tissue before setting it off to the side.

As he was booting up his laptop and entering in his own codes, a knock at the propped-open door echoed. Glimpsing the figure over his shoulder, he grunted under his breath.

"What's up, Gracie Lou?" he asked, turning in his chair to face Holly fully. In the time that he'd left the laboratory, she'd cleaned herself up somewhat. Clean clothes, messy hair pulled out of her face...he felt a little gross in comparison. Briefly, he debated taking the time to shower after pulling on his old connections. In her expression, though, was a line of worry that could not be erased.

"They locked the door upstairs. The lab is completely inaccessible."

Her pronouncement made, Clint stared at her, and she merely turned her palms out, cupping the air. After hanging up with Pepper and taking care of herself for the first time in hours, she'd gone back to the lab as she'd promised. When she'd gotten there, access had been denied, and she did not know any override codes to key in when prompted at the door. Looking through the glass, she saw the scientists hard at work, unaware of her presence. Except for the look Banner had shot her through the door, one that was equal parts determination and guilt. Whatever they were doing, they were intentionally keeping the others out.

"You're joking."

"Nope. Something's up, and I don't think it's anything good."

"Well, you don't know that for sure," Barton reasoned, his own suspicions growing. Benefit of the doubt, he reminded himself; it wasn't something he was good at giving others, but his wife's voice in his head could not be ignored. "For all we know, some radiation might leak out of that thing and they want to lock it down, protect the Tower."

The archer and the civilian shared a bleak look, both of them silently rejecting his words.

"You've already been contaminated, then," Holly murmured. Off his confused look, she pointed at the right side of his torso, sniffing. "Because your wound was bonded by that thing's little brother, essentially, right?"

The math and the science of the machines was beyond her understanding, but she knew enough to know that it was unlikely that the portable bonder and the Cradle were vastly different in their make-up. Dread pervaded the space, and Clint swiveled back to his computer, tapping through the systems to access the Tower's grids. After a few unsuccessful attempts to break into the security locks, he abandoned the pursuit, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"With Stark's overrides keeping the systems in place again, there's really nothing we can do about it," he announced then, leaning back in his chair. Short of busting the glass, there was no way into that lab without Tony's digital permission, and his gut told him that the other man would definitely not be inclined to give it. Holly's dark eyes flitted around the room, the long sleeves of her shirt tucked over her hands. Spying the ear piece on the far table, her feet began to move as her brain churned.

"Maybe not."

Raising an eyebrow, Barton said, "What are you doing?"

Grabbing another tissue and some cleaner, she swiped a few more times at the piece before tucking it into her own ear. It fit snugly, crackling to life as she tapped her finger to it.

"In your day, you'd probably call it being a narc," she teased the older man. "Right now, I'd call it debriefing the leadership."

Clint chuckled lightly. "Or we could all revert back to childhood and call it tattling."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you have a lot of experience there," she shot back, amusement painting her features despite the seriousness. A chill ran through Barton at her words, which he disguised with a narrowing of his eyes.

"What are you implying?"

Blinking, she furrowed her forehead. His reaction seemed strange to her. "That you're really just a kid at heart."

His heart thudded in relief; she didn't have a clue about his recent forays with children and childhood. Whatever Rogers had kept her abreast of, it wasn't his family. He'd respected his wishes, and for that he was grateful.

Physically, he just canted his head and rolled his shoulders. "Fair point."

"Okay..." Holly trailed off, scrutinizing her erstwhile instructor for a few seconds before a response came over the line. Bodily turning her back on her companion, she responded, "Steve? Hey...yeah, yeah, I'm alright. And you?...Good, good. Yeah, borrowing Clint's...how far out are you? Oh, just...I would recommend running when you hit the ground."

Over her shoulder, dark brown connected with bright blue, the older man and younger woman both feeling a nervous drop in their stomachs.

"Something's going on."

xXxXxXx

Six hours later, Steve was about ready to burst out the hatch as the private jet banked along the runway outside of LaGuardia. With the possibility of Stark and Banner resuming their research, it was essential for him and the twins to get moving. Manners dictated that he give the pilots of the plane a polite nod and a thank you, and he did, but his mind was already halfway gone by that point. If what Wanda felt and what Holly said was true, they couldn't waste anymore time. Pietro, of the same mind as him, bid farewell to his comrades, scooping up his sister and following the captain's rapid jog down the tarmac. For rapidity's sake, Steve had to hail a cab, while drawing quite a few stares (not from the cabbie; granted, he did look askance at him, but in the interest of earning his fare, he let the presence of a superhero and a couple of weird kids go). The city was a bright beacon in the middle of the night, but he could find no comfort in the glaring lights and displays of the streets. The Maximoffs looked out the windows with interest, but as they were not there to sight-see, the focus ultimately swung back to the original point of contention.

Deposited down the block from the Tower, Steve felt the dread mount inside him as he pressed forward, skirting the street entrance in favor of the back door. No doubt the security codes for that one had been changed again as well, so he tapped into his comm-link, announcing their arrival to the recipient on the other end.

Several minutes later, the sealed door sprang open, and the trio hustled in. When the portal shut and locked behind them, the captain took a second to look at the young woman there, baseball bat in hand (not taking the quiet as a sign of peace, good for her) and mixing emotions on her face. His heart rate climbed as they locked eyes, never breaking the contact as he removed his helmet and let it drop to the floor. Though in reality it had been only a couple of days since he was in her company, Steve couldn't help the upsurge of feeling that roared through him, taking hold of him as he stepped forward and gathered her up in his arms. He had missed Holly terribly, and to have her with him again loosened the tension in his chest, in his mind. For her part, she gripped him just as tightly, one arm curling around his shoulders as her face was pressed into the crook of his neck, shaky breaths against his armor.

A muffled gasp behind them brought Steve back to the present moment, and out the corner of his eye he could see the twins staring at the shared embrace. Swallowing hard, he let Holly go with difficulty, one palm still pressed along her waist as she drew back. Under his touch, he could feel her body stiffen, her fingers shifting around the grip of the bat. She'd recognized the Maximoffs, pictures and names shared so that she knew where the potential threat lay in case it ever came after her, and she eyed them suspiciously. There was a hard line of anger in her gaze, which Wanda was reading fully if the widening of her eyes was any indication. Though Steve had indicated he would be bringing companions with him, even alluded to them being previous enemies, Holly wasn't about to trust them as yet.

It wasn't any less than what Steve was expecting from her, from anyone. Hell, if they had not stepped up when they did, he certainly wouldn't trust them, either. Risking a sideways glance back to his fiancée, he half wondered if her inner filter would choose that moment to shut off and if she would give them a piece of her mind. Probably would be best to circumvent that event, if he could.

"Still okay?" he asked her, pulling her focus from the twins, fingers brushing along her chin. A corner of his mouth lifted when Holly leaned into the touch, patting his hand with her own. A shrug followed, demurring her feelings even as they reflected brightly in her eyes.

"More or less," she murmured, unconsciously swiping at the skin just below her stitches. Flicking her gaze back to Pietro and Wanda, she exhaled sharply, eyebrows inclining a little. His head shook the tiniest bit; now was not the time for a long-winded story. Relenting, she took his hand, nodding for the others to follow to the elevator bank.

"What's going on upstairs?" the captain inquired, the numbers of the floors ticking by too slowly for his liking. The frown on Holly's lips deepened, her glance sliding off him to the Maximoff siblings.

"Same stuff as the last few hours," she reported, guiding them from one floor to the next. "They've been in the lab too long for it to be a system shut-down. At least, I think so. The read-outs weren't simple to follow, but they did have progress bars and charts, and they appeared to be climbing, from what I could see whenever I snuck by. I think...it looks like they're going to replace whatever Ultron was doing with their own stuff."

Knowing full well that Stark and Banner both probably suspected her sneakiness, they did no less to disguise their efforts (not that they really could with the see-through walls of the lab). And so she honestly felt no worse for doing walk-bys, darting past on and off to try and gauge what they were doing. They'd already endangered the world once with their experiments; she might not be able to do much physically, but she could keep track of the progress.

"So they are continuing his work," Pietro breathed, a hand raking through his silver locks violently. Wanda reached out, seizing his wrist and stopping the assault on his scalp. Holly, unsure of what kind of answer the fellow would be looking for, flicked a few fingers at the air.

"I..."

Steve nodded, digesting the ill information as best he could. "The three of us, we'll go in through the front. Holly, you go back to Clint, see if he can't jimmy the rear access open."

Her brow furrowed then, contemplating the proposed plan.

"If you can get in the front, why would..." she trailed off. Her eyes closed as she walked herself through the thought aloud. "In case they wouldn't let you near the Cradle, he could sneak in from behind. This has bad news written all over it."

"Maybe, but it's what we need to do," the captain replied. Shifting his shield from the harness to his gauntlet, he hesitated with his next statement. "It...it would be a good idea for you to not, well..."

Holly stared at him for a few seconds, her expression full of worry and incredulity. "You think it could get physical."

His sharp grimace was all the answer she needed. Frankly, it turned her stomach to think that the state of affairs between team members on this issue had driven them to that point. Oh, this was not good...The plaintive look in his eyes, the one that begged her to stay out of harm's way, surfaced, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Mutely, she nodded her agreement, her path diverging from theirs with one last squeeze of his fingers. Jogging lightly down the hall, she burst into Barton's control room, the man inside tidied up since the last time she saw him. He was standing up from his seat and tapping at his laptop excitedly, his headphones dropped to the table with relish.

"Clint..." she began, pausing when she saw the triumphant glitter in his eyes. "What's up?"

"Got a lead on Nat. Morse code came in over the wire," he confessed, hooking up a printer and scanning the open browser for the data. Shock and relief coursed through her system as he spoke; after so long a silence, she had started to despair for the other woman. Coming across the way, Holly bent at the waist to look at the generated satellite feed with him. "I was able to pin down the coordinates."

Noting the label produced in the corner of the screen, Holly couldn't help her snort of derision. "Sokovia, again? Ultron isn't terribly original, is he?"

Clint's mouth lifted at the corners. "In this case, I'm grateful for it."

Retrieving his print-offs, he proceeded to traipse down the hall, but the sudden grip on his wrist stopped him short.

"The lab is still cut off from the front," Holly reminded him. Hooking her thumb behind her, to where the Iron Legion's assembly room was, she continued, "We'd have better luck with the rear access."

Leading the way, she missed the leery look Clint shot at her back. The ring of his boots alerted her to his nearness, but he did not halt her.

"How'd you know about the rear access?" To the best of his knowledge, the only people who knew about the rear staircase were members of the team and Doctor Cho, and Holly was neither. Given that all her previous stays at the Tower did not include laboratory tours, her knowledge seemed fishy. When she glanced back at him, her eye-line focusing on the top of his head rather than his gaze, his suspicions were confirmed.

"...Um..."

Barton expelled air out through his nose, rolling his eyes. "How long ago did the Cap get here?"

Holly lifted a shoulder, tapping her wrist as though a watch was perched there. "Two minutes ago, not even. That's why I came back to find you."

Nodding, the archer lengthened his stride, now forcing her to keep up the pace.

"We better get moving, then."

The robotics assembly space was barren, much as it had been since the destruction of the Legionnaires. The remaining machines had been powered down, the parts on the shelves. The hollow masks seemed to stare as Holly followed lightly on Clint's heels. Light poured in from the laboratory above, the sheets of glass flooring exposing all above. The archer stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up. The captain had already broken in, most likely cracking the glass with his shield to do so. He faced Stark and Banner, both of them rooted by their consoles as the Cradle virtually smoked in the center of the room. And just beyond Cap, he could make out the figures of two others.

"Those kids...he brought those kids with him?" Barton snapped, gesturing towards the pair. Holly sucked in a breath; she'd neglected to mention them, mainly because she knew he would not be reacting pleasantly to their presence.

"There's an explanation for that..." she said, her words nearly lost as the voices above them began to grow in fever and pitch.

"There better damn well be!"

"...Which we won't get to hear if we don't help them settle what's going on," she completed pointedly, nudging the older man towards the back stairs. The rapid clomp of steps above their heads drew their gazes again, blue and white film filtering in the air as the elder Maximoff came to a standstill. Cords and cables were in his hands, horrified looks shot at him as he dropped them against the floor.

Grinding his teeth, Clint snorted. "Well, looks like the settlement was forced. And in that case..."

His hand moved to the sleek holster on his hip, Holly's eyes going wide.

"Wait, Clint, what are you—" she started, biting off her question as he pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the glass above them. She had just enough time to dive backwards, out of the way as the sheets cracked and broke from his gunshot. Her bat rattled on the ground, abandoned in her effort to find shelter. Sliding across the floor, she banked against the back wall, groaning loudly as her ears rang. Another groan mingled with hers; evidently, Pietro had landed as solidly from his own fall. Clint, having kept clear of the spray of glass, stepped over to the younger man, literally kicking him while he was down. A furious glare was cast his way, and the archer merely smirked and raised an eyebrow. A harrumph behind him caught his attention, and he was met with another irritated look on the other side of the floor, this one more feminine.

Lifting a shoulder at Holly, he merely said, "Hey, he started this."

Her retort was lost in the shower of sparks that cascaded from above, the shield flying from Steve's hand and destroying the computer consoles as it went. A repulsor followed it, shot across the room from Tony to the assailant. Holly felt her heart leap into her throat as shouts and screams echoed down, fear for her fiancé shooting through her. Clint took off, thumbing back the hammer of his gun as he went and shouldered through the stairway door. Scrabbling to her feet, she felt a hand grip around her forearm. Her self-defense training kicked in, with her pushing into the hold and twisting her arm towards her chest. She hip-checked the attacker, making him stumble sideways. Realizing belatedly that it wasn't a true attacker at all, she felt her face flush. It was Pietro, trying to help her up; she couldn't help herself when her instincts took over. His befuddled gaze met her embarrassed one, and as she was about to mutter an apology, a loud thump echoed above. The remaining pair below gaped as a crimson cape billowed out, the imposing fellow leaping atop the Cradle and stretching his arm up to the ceiling. Thor, hefting Mjolnir took in a deep breath.

"No, don't!" Bruce's cry cut through the air, attempting to halt the god's seeming path of destruction. However, the entreaty fell upon deaf ears. A tang of metal filled Holly's mouth, the smell of ozone and iron in the air. Electricity coursed down from the ceiling, from the consoles, from every source imaginable. The light of the bolts was blinding, forcing her to shield her eyes with her palm. She could hear Pietro's muted grunts of pain as he shied away as well, the clang and clatter of overloaded monitors met with the crackle of lightning. For several moments, it went on, and then suddenly...silence.

The light faded abruptly, the surge of energy distilled. Waiting with bated breath, she stared up.

A blast erupted, the metal of the Cradle ripping and shooting away, shoving Thor off of it with great force. More glass rained down as he collided with the overhead lights, with Holly and Pietro immediately rolling out of the way. Mist poured out from the Cradle, sparks pinging and showering out from the casing as the body rose, emerged. Curious, she stepped lightly over the glass shards on the floor, the presence of the male Maximoff twin behind her, watching as she did. The creature crouched over the edge, silver and purple coloring its skin, lines streaming over its arms and down its legs. Holly held in a gasp, observing as it started to uncurl.

And when it opened its eyes, taking in its first sight of the world, she was met with the electric blue stare of bewilderment, unfamiliarity...of promise.

---

A/N: How about that? I'm posting on the same day as has become the norm instead of being delayed by my interminable workload! Persistence and perseverance prevails!

This chapter covers some ground, I will say. I wanted to show how a little of the time between Steve and the twins passed on the way to New York. Talking strategy, sure, but there had to be something said or done to make them trust each other, at least enough for him to bring them all the way to the Tower. Also, I remember reading in an interview that Elizabeth Olsen viewed the powers that Scarlet Witch has as being more emotionally driven than mentally, which makes sense given that she plays on the team's fears rather just manufacturing experiences in their minds out of thin air. I tried to explain that; hope it worked.

I just hope the chapter wasn't too muddled for anybody to understand; I tried to be as clear and concise as possible. And if it's dragging on in your estimation, then...well, I'm sorry, but I can't force myself to make it go faster. :-S

Closer and closer to the Battle of Sokovia now...closer and closer...

I don't own anything from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture/film references made by the characters.

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!