The alarms blaring throughout the flying ship died down, speakers urging all uninjured personnel to return to their post immediately. Steve, still lugging Clint around like a sack of potatoes while carrying the sceptre in the other hand, was given a wide berth. If he were to follow that order too, he guessed he should be heading to the command deck where he had last seen Fury, but he'd rather get Clint off his back first. Should he put him in a cell or in the infirmary?
Deciding Clint's health was more important, he followed the path to the infirmary, other injured agents trickling out of adjacent corridors the closer he got. No wonder there was a waiting line once he got there. However, a terribly efficient triage system had already been set up already too, although he found the system a bit unusual as the nurses sent all burn victims to one side, while all other injuries seemed to be going the other way.
"Injury?" the nurse-agent snapped at him, looking at her clipboard rather than at him.
"Mind-control, followed by a good concussion, I'd say," Steve replied as he shifted Clint's weight over his shoulder. "Ma'am," he added belatedly because he wasn't going to let her lack of manners affect his own.
She finally glanced at him, eyes going wide, then she stepped back upon noticing the sceptre.
"Uhm… That way," she said pointing to where a majority of the wounded were going.
"Thank you Ma'am," he said, just to drive his point home, then trudged through the large infirmary until he found a free bed to drop his burden into. The room was strangely empty despite all the people he'd seen walk in already, but he pushed the notion out of his head to borrow the handcuffs from a passing agent so he could secure Clint to the bed. Satisfied that he'd done all he could to make the archer comfortable while keeping him from hurting anyone, Steve scanned the room for a nurse or doctor, finding only Hermione instead. People lined up in front of her, presenting their injury. Her wand hovered above them, flicking a few times, and her patients looked in awe at being healed so easily where it would have taken days or weeks before. A huff of breath escaped him. He should have guessed Hermione would be here, helping as much as she could with the aftermath of the battle. It certainly explained a lot, why the patients were sorted in such a way and why the infirmary was nearly empty, the healed patients leaving through a side door to get back to their post.
"Hermione!" he called, waving her over when she was done with healing a broken arm.
Her face lit up and she excused herself, promising to be back soon, before running up to him. He held her in his arms, but just for an instant, knowing her time was precious right now. Reluctantly, he let her go and pointed towards Clint's bed, explaining what had happened.
"I'll have to wait until he wakes up to undo the mind control," she said. "Are you taking that thing to Fury?"
Steve nodded.
"Any idea what else happened?"
"Rumour is you threw the Hulk out of the Helicarrier's. Is that true?" she sounded like she was about to scold him.
"No," It wasn't really a lie. He had planned to do it, but the Hulk had done it all by himself in the end. "He jumped on a plane firing at him."
Hermione hummed, looking unconvinced.
"Loki escaped, apparently," she added with a sombre look. "He killed Coulson. Stabbed him in the back before dropping his brother through that trapdoor."
Steve was shocked he would kill his own brother, and more sad than he'd thought he'd be at the news of Coulson falling in combat. He thought he'd be more numb to this sort of news after losing Bucky, after losing so many to war and Time. He hadn't even known Coulson that well but he'd been a good man.
Hermione's gentle touch brought him out of his brooding. She nodded towards Clint.
"I'll take good care of him. You go to Fury to show him the attack wasn't a total loss."
The sceptre weighed heavy in his hands, but it seemed like a very small victory indeed compared to their losses. When he reached the command deck, he could see it had taken some damage as well. In fact, Agent Hill herself was injured, but she had skipped the infirmary or Hermione would have healed the bloody gash across her forehead.
"Hey Cap! Where have you been skiving off to while we did all the work?" Stark said when he spotted him, prompting all eyes to turn his way.
Steve raised a brow and dropped the sceptre on the table.
"Good enough," Stark conceded and turned the chair next to him in invitation.
Steve gladly took it. Racing against the Hulk, fighting Clint, then lugging him around half the Helicarrier was taking its toll on him.
"And Clint is in the infirmary. Hermione will set him right when he wakes up," he said, glancing towards the Black Widow who visibly perked up at the news.
"What did I miss?" he asked now that he'd given his news.
Fury, Stark and Romanoff filled him in. None of them seemed overly concerned about Thor or Banner falling off the Helicarrier, one being a God and the other indestructible. It was a load off Steve's shoulders if he had to be honest. Doing the logical thing did not always feel right. They also confirmed Loki had escaped with what was left of his minions, leaving the same way they'd come. And Stark had saved the Helicarrier with Romanoff's assistance. Steve should have guessed he was behind the miraculous repair in flight and under fire. Unfortunately, his robot suit was ruined, although he seemed to imply he had a few more to spare at his tower.
All in all, it could have been worse. Except…
Fury threw bloody cards on the table. Steve recognized his stupid face immediately, saluting like an idiot in that gaudy costume he wore back when he sold war bonds. The collectible cards Clint had told him about. It wasn't a loss the cards were ruined, but the one they had belonged to, the one whose blood stained the edges, that was a real loss. Stark and Romanoff seemed particularly troubled by the sight of them, but angry to. They would want revenge. Steve knew all too well how that felt. He had torn his way through Hydra soldiers like a hot knife through butter after he'd lost Bucky, and when he'd thought he'd lost Hermione too.
Steve frowned at Fury. What was up with the theatrics? Did he really need to push them further. They had been working against Loki since he first appeared, and alright, their team-work could be better, but they had done their best under the circumstances, and were still learning each others strengths and personalities.
"Any idea where he fled to?" Steve asked Stark, turning in his chair.
Stark shrugged.
"Equipment in the lab was destroyed. Jarvis is recuperating the data, but it might be awhile before we get a lock on him, and that's supposing he's with the Tesseract. But I can't help but feel… That light for all humankind comment he made… correct me if I'm wrong, but was that a jab at me, right?"
Steve's first instinct was to tell him not everything was about him, but having read his file and learning that Stark Industries had forsaken dealing weapons in favour of green energy, he might actually be onto something.
"What does Loki need right now? Besides the sceptre?"
Starks fingers drummed the conference table, then suddenly stopped as his face lit up.
"Power!" he exclaimed.
Steve panicked, thinking of Hermione, but he had just seen her, she was safe in the infirmary.
"Energy! To power his portal," Stark elaborated at all the blank faces staring at him. He groaned then resumed. "He mocked me for it because of what I want to use my reactor for, but he definitely knows about it and he needs to use all that power to open the portal. There's literally no other single power source on earth right now he can use to do such a thing!"
"So… Stark Tower? That's where we'll find him?"
"I'm leaving now. You guys better hurry."
And Stark was gone. Once more herring off before they could assemble and prepare some kind of plan… Fury was trying to call him back, but you might as well piss against the wind. Steve's glare followed Fury. All those theatrics for nothing. They still weren't a team.
"I'm not leaving without Clint," Romanoff said.
"Well, that's good, because I'm not leaving without Hermione."
Did two count as a team? Four might. At least Fury did not try to stop them the way he had Stark. Maybe he realized how pointless it was. Best pretend this was the outcome he wanted rather than to lose face when all his special agents or whatever his assembled team of super-weirdos were called.
Agent Hill nodded at them as they made their way out and Steve did a double-take because something was off about her although he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It's only when his instinct made him take one last glance at her when he stood at the entrance and saw her tell Fury she would secure the sceptre that he realized the gash on her forehead was missing. In the time he had last seen her, she couldn't possibly have been to the infirmary and back to have Hermione heal it.
Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, Steve ran full tilt at the conference table to snatch the sceptre out of her grip, but she was fast, inhumanly so, and twirled gracefully out of the way, holding up the weapon triumphantly. Her eyes were normal, she wasn't mind-controlled like the others, but that haughty smirk across her lips was familiar enough.
"Loki," Steve growled.
"Not as thick as you look," she replied.
Romanoff tackled her from behind. Steve hadn't even noticed her manoeuvre her way behind the Hill look-alike, but Loki barely flinched from the blow. Steve knew just how strong he was, and that extended to the human form he assumed apparently. Fury shot at him next, but Loki deflected it easily, the bullet ricocheting around the control room while agents dodged their heads whenever it whizzed close.
"Surrender, Loki," Fury barked. "You're surrounded, you've no ways to escape."
"Director! Director!"
The shout drew their attention, preceded by the entrance of another agent Hill, running full tilt into the room before skidding to a halt a few feet from her doppelganger. This was probably the real one, judging but the shocked look on her face and the head injury. But suddenly, there were three more Hills, then six, fifteen, twenty… All looking shocked, all looking out of breath and with a gash across their foreheads.
"Fuck," Fury muttered as he pointed to one, then the other.
"Look for the one with the sceptre!" Romanoff shouted.
All the available agents checked one Hill after the next, adding to the confusion. Steve knew he was a bit of a pessimist, but he had the sinking feeling Loki was long gone. Soon, the extra Hills vanished and they were left with the original. Turned out she had been attacked as soon as she stepped out of the control room, to go to the bathroom of all things, before she was stuffed into a supply closet. She had come as soon as she could free herself to warn them Loki was still aboard, unfortunately giving him the perfect opportunity to escape. She was seething mad now, and agents scattered out of her way when Fury sent her to the infirmary, under guard, for a check-up. Steve suspected he wanted to double check she was the real deal, but he couldn't begrudge him that given the circumstances.
"Good job, Captain. You better get going now. Loki has a head start."
With a nod at Fury, Steve left with Romanoff once more to retrieve their respective partners.
"Thank you for bringing Clint back," Romanoff said after a few minutes of walking silently side by side towards the infirmary.
By the time Steve glanced her way, her face was its usual mask of indifference, as if she hadn't said anything. Steve shrugged it off. As he'd said: bunch of weirdos. They'd get along just fine. Her face did light up when she saw Clint was awake and without the creepy eyes though. He'd bet she was a big softie inside.
"How is he?" he asked Hermione while the other two exchanged hushed whispers.
"Looks like a good whack on the head is enough to break the mind-control. I checked just in case, but he's completely free of Loki's influence. He'll still have to deal with everything else…"
Romanoff caught her eye and nodded. It looked like the archer would be in good hands, just as much as Bucky and Hermione had been in his. He wondered who Stark had had to care for him after his own ordeal. Had he already been dating Miss Potts? Steve realized he still had a lot to learn about him, personal things that were not in the Iron-man file he had read. And, speaking of the devil…
"We have to go assist Stark at his tower," he told Hermione and Clint. "He thinks Loki is headed there."
Romanoff "borrowed" a Quinjet from the bridge while Clint served as her copilot because neither him nor Hermione had a clue about flying one of those. Hermione had considered teleporting them all directly on site, but since they had no idea what was the situation and if Loki had set up traps for them, they decided to play it safe. It wasn't a long ride to the tower anyway, not in a Quinjet. Steve used the time to suit up, because if he tried to fight any longer in what was left of his gym clothes, he was bound to end up naked before it was all over.
Hermione was tapping her foot nervously next to him her wand twirling over and over on her hand, so Steve laid his over it and leaned over to tell her everything was going to be fine.
"It wasn't. The last time you told me that…" she looked away, and Steve could have kicked himself.
He had said that just before jumping onto Zola's train, just before everything went to shit and Bucky fell…
"Sorry," Hermione said.
She had nothing to be sorry for, but now, he felt as nervous as she was. What if he did lose her this time? But did they have a choice? If they ran away, just the two of them, to safety, to live a calm and peaceful life, how long would it last until Loki or whatever other villain ended it as they took over the world?
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," he muttered and by the wry smile Hermione gave him, she seemed to know exactly what he'd been thinking.
"Worse case scenario, we'll be reunited, the three of us," she said.
"You believe in that?" he asked, truly curious.
It wasn't a subject they'd ever broached before, not even during the war, but for some reason, he hadn't thought a witch would believe in heaven, especially not with what the Bible had to say about witches.
"We probably don't have the same concept of the afterlife, but I know from a pretty good source that our loved ones are waiting for us on the other side. I'm not sure I'll have all of mine, maybe not those from the other reality, but Bucky will be there."
Okay. Alright. So, the afterlife was a fact? Despite his faith, raised like the good Irish Catholic boy he was, his mind was still blown at having it confirmed as a fact. He still knew so little of Hermione's life from before, from her world of magic, but they had had too little time together, torn apart by the war, then too busy and exhausted when they fought side by side.
Add to that he didn't know whether he should be worried she was contemplating death so easily, almost finding solace in it, or if he should be glad she found a silver lining to hang onto before flying into a dangerous situation, and he was quite literally lost for words.
He wished Bucky was there. He would have talked some sense into her, but all Steve could do was hold tight onto her hand to keep her tethered to him.
"We're here," Romanoff said from the cockpit.
They hurried to the front to take stock of the situation, their eyes drawn by a familiar blue glow radiating from the roof of Stark Tower, when a window nearby broke, glass glittering in the sun as someone fell out, falling fast, too fast for them to do anything about it.
"Fuck," Clint said. "I think that was Stark."
And he wasn't wearing his armor.