Steve Rogers sits in the main conference room in the Avengers Compound. He's tired, freshly dressed in a simple shirt and worn jeans, and he's staring at the shield resting on the table in front of himself. His thoughts drift, shifting from memory to regret to discovery, and finally ending at an emotion that's a mix of nostalgia, shame, guilt, and mild confusion.
He isn't alone for long. James Rhodes walks into the conference room, holding a Starkpad in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. He glances up at Steve, sees the shield and pauses for a moment before setting his tablet down.
"I was wondering when you'd find that," Rhodey says.
"I just found it today. It was tucked away in the closet." Steve holds the shield in front of himself, frowning at it. "It's been in my room this whole time?"
"Tony left it there in case you and everyone else came back," Rhodey says, shrugging. "I thought you knew. You've been staying in that room for awhile now."
"Would you believe me if I told you I haven't gotten around to cleaning the place up until now?" Steve asks.
"Given the sorts of missions we've been putting time into lately? Yeah. Definitely. If I never hear the word 'food riot' ever again, it'll be too soon," Rhodey mutters. Steve shares the sentiment.
The shield's been polished, Steve notes. It looks good as new. He runs his hand over the surface of it, conflicted. On one hand, he's glad to have it back. As much as he hates to admit it, the shield is as much a part of him as the uniform. On the other hand, it doesn't feel right to hold this shield. Not anymore. It feels like it belongs to someone else.
"Oh, you found it," Natasha says, walking into the room and past him. She looks up at him, catches his eye, and says, "Good. Keep it with you. You're at your best with that thing, and people could use the morale boost."
Steve isn't so sure. He's at his best when Sam and Bucky are nearby. But he also knows Tony, and he knows what refusing the shield would mean to the man, even if he isn't on Earth to hear about it. He won't do that to him; this is a kind of olive branch from him, delivered in his usual odd way. And there are worse things to carry than the shield. Besides, Natasha just used her Command Voice on him, and he's fallen into the habit of listening to her more and more often.
"It could be useful," Steve admits, putting the shield on his back. It settles against his shoulders just as it always has; both a comfort and, oddly, a responsibility. One he didn't think he would be carrying with him into the 21st century. "Assuming Thanos decides to make a return visit."
"Let's not even joke about that," Rhodey says quietly. Clint trickles into the room, and he nods to them as he walks in and takes his place.
Fair enough.
The Avengers settle into place around the conference table. Holograms of Okoye and Rocket pop up at the empty spots of the table. Well, two of the empty spots. The rest are left empty out of respect (for the Dusted) and hope (for Tony and Spider-Man). Speaking of which...
"Our interdimensional friend is still dead asleep in the infirmary. He's waking up each day, but it's just long enough to eat, shower, and use the bathroom. The doctors say he'll need a few days to recover before we can get a conversation out of him," Natasha says.
"That's a shame," Okoye says idly. "I'd like to know how he spoke to a dead man. Wong knows your Dr. Strange is dead, does he not?"
"He knows. He says Strange's presence in this reality disappeared the same time everyone else did," Natasha says. She frowns. "Where's Thor?"
"Asleep," Clint says, rubbing the back of his head. "Which translates into nightmares which means I didn't want to get too close. His nightmares make him sparky."
"He fried half his room during the last one," Rhodey mutters.
"We'll let him sleep," Natasha says. "Since I'm not going to wake him up. Let's get started. Steve?"
"Have we heard anything about Tony?" Steve asks.
Rhodey sighs. "No. Carol went off to look for him and now she's gone MIA, too. He could be out in space with Peter, hiding from Thanos, or trapped or..."
Rhodey trails off. The 'or' is self explanatory. Or they became dust. Or they died fighting Thanos. Or they're on their way back. Or-- The possibilities are endless and infuriating.
"Peter's pretty smart, right?" Clint says, half to himself. "I mean, if he and Tony were left alone on a ship together, they'd figure out a way to contact us by now, right?"
"Peter's brilliant," Rhodey says bluntly. "At least as smart as Tony, probably smarter. If those two were stuck in a ship together, they'd have tricked it out in red paint and discovered three different types of space travel by now. Assuming they had the resources."
Steve frowns. He never had the chance to meet Peter, but his absence is felt everywhere inside the Compound. Tony's office, which has recently been repurposed into Natasha's office, still has the odd picture or note strewn about. Natasha leaves them where they are, and the others politely ignore them. Steve's caught Rhodey looking at them more than once during the few meetings they've had since the decimation. The man's expression can only be described as haunted.
He ignores that, too. They've all gotten pretty good at ignoring each other's ghosts these days.
"That's a pretty big assumption, pal. Resources are hard to find these days. Half of the stuff people are making is taken by Thanos. There's a real fuel crisis out here," Rocket says, scratching one furry cheek. "And sending messages is dangerous with Thanos gathering his army up for whatever the hell he plans on doing. If your friends are half as smart as you say, they're staying low, moving slowly, and keeping quiet until they get out of his reach."
Rhodey nods, conceding the point. "If we're lucky, they're both on that donut ship and heading back to us. With Carol."
Which is probably too much to hope for, Steve thinks. He keeps it to himself.
"Speaking of Thanos, he's got trouble at home," Rocket says. He gestures, and a holographic map pops up in the center of the table. Seven golden orbs are marked in the center of Thanos's territory. "These are planet sized prisons right in the middle of his territory. They're so far past enemy lines that you can't hope to break anyone out. People who end up there just don't come back. For obvious reasons."
"Okay," Natasha says, frowning. "I'm surprised he keeps prisoners."
"One of 'em was used for his kids," Rocket says. At the horrified looks that earns him, he scoffs. "You think that big purple bastard was a good father? Anyway--" He waves a hand. Two of the golden orbs turn red. "--someone's been tearing them apart from the inside."
"Who's strong enough to pull that off?" Rhodey asks.
"Dunno. Maybe your missing friends, maybe someone else," Rocket says, shrugging. "I'm still getting more information. "I should have something by tomorrow."
"Then we're going to have another talk tomorrow," Natasha says, staring at the map with interest. "If it is Tony, he'll find a way to turn it into a message."
"This is about as subtle as he would get," Rhodey says cautiously, obviously trying to fight back a surge of hope.
Steve pauses, thinks, and smiles for a moment. "That would just be like him, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah, well, we'll find out more tomorrow," Rocket says. "That's all I got."
"Okay," Natasha says with a sigh. "Moving on to things much closer to home--"
She leaves the holographic map up. Rhodey stares hard at the red orbs floating inside it.
It's easy to learn about the things you destroy. Diana knows she's not in her home universe. She knows that she's deep within the heart of a territory belonging to a creature called Thanos, the Mad Titan. She knows that she's inside one of his specially made prisons. She doesn't find Clark or Peter in her prison, so she destroys it and moves to the next one. And destroys that one, too.
Diana is halfway through the third prison when she hears someone groan in pain inside one of the cells beyond the sound of battle. She rips her sword free of a strange, four armed batlike creature and begins to cut her way through the mob towards the cell door. By the time she reaches it, there are no more guards left to kill; only a pile of hewn bodies and a floor sticky with blood.
She pushes open the door; it protests at first, but she puts a bit of strength into it and the door folds like paper, screeching and bending out of her way as she steps inside. In the room, a blonde woman is bound in chains as heavy and thick as the ones that had kept Diana trapped in her own cell not very long ago. Some small alien device is attached to her head, pulsing an odd purple light. Diana gently removes it, idly crushes it in one hand and tosses the remains to the floor. She tears the chains apart like tissue paper, bracing the woman against herself so she doesn't fall and strike her head. The chains shatter, and the woman's eyes clear. She blinks up at Diana, wary at first, but then relaxes when she takes stock of her situation.
"You're a prisoner too, aren't you?" the woman asks as Diana lowers her to the floor. She sits hard, leaning back against the wall.
"I was. I'm not anymore," Diana says. "You're the only other prisoner I've found since I broke out. They took pains to keep us out of reach of each other."
"Probably smart of them," the woman says. She tries to stand, becomes visibly pale, and drops back down, reaching up to rub her temples. Her voice becomes less weak, a bit less thready. "Hoo boy. I feel like I've just gone ten rounds with the Supreme Intelligence. Ugh."
"You don't look well," Diana says, frowning. "We need to get you out of here. Is there somewhere you can go?"
"Yes, but I won't. Not yet," the woman says, steel in her voice. She pushes herself back onto her feet. Golden energy flashes along her forearms and hands, and she meets Diana's eyes. "What's your name?"
"I am called Wonder Woman," Diana says.
"Call me Carol Danvers. Captain Marvel, if you feel like getting fancy," the woman replies, rolling her shoulders.
Diana quirks a brow. She knows a Captain Marvel, and a Kara Danvers. She stops and looks at Carol once more. The stance, the blue and red suit, the golden symbol across the chest. She smiles. Perhaps this universe has its own version of Kryptonians after all.
"How did they capture you?" Diana asks, backing away to give the woman room to recover.
"I was on a search and rescue mission. After Thanos wiped half the universe, I came home to Earth and got the full story. Two of the Avengers and most of the Guardians of the Galaxy were still missing. Unlike everyone else, I can fly through space, so my job was to find them with a rescue kit. Food, water, medicine, supplies to fix a ship in case they were stranded in space. I found them drifting in space, gave them everything, and started to help them get things put together. And then a Black Order fleet found us."
Carol goes quiet, rubbing her forehead and frowning, as if fighting off a migraine. Diana frowns.
"Are you all right?" she asks.
"Yeah. Yeah, my memory's just jumbled. I don't remember..." She trails off, then shakes her head. "I know they're alive. Tony and Nebula. Everything else is a blur. I've been here for a long time."
"We can discuss it later. Right now, we need to move," Diana says.
"Agreed," Carol says. "And I have an appointment with the people who run this place."
"Then let's not keep them waiting," Diana replies, moving for the door. "Follow me."
Behind Diana's back, Carol winces.
And her eyes flash blue.
BATCHAT
Bruce (03:09pm): Status update.
Barbara (03:10pm): Dick, Tim, and Starfire are at his apartment. Duke is with Jason. Cass and Steph are wrapping up an investigation in Crime Alley. Joker hit the Alley with his new toxin before the storm picked up, but casualties are low.
Bruce (03:11pm): No one is allowed in the field until I get back. Bring them in.
Barbara (03:12pm): Roger that. Guys, you heard B-man.
Steph (03:13pm): We're headed to Jason's safe house. ETA fifteen minutes.
Bruce (03:14pm): Report in when you get there. I'm on my way to the manor. Do we still have our guest there?
Tim (03:15pm): yeah, he's been asleep in one of the guest rooms since I left this morning, so he probably won't notice the plane
Bruce (03:16pm): Noted.
Bruce (03:17pm): Check in every thirty minutes until I get back.
Bruce (03:18pm): This is not a suggestion.
"--Peter."
"Nngh?" His mind isn't working at full capacity. Peter knows three things: he is very tired, he is in a bed that is far too big and soft to be his own, and someone is waking him at an ungodly hour if he's this exhausted.
He must be at the Avengers Compound. Vision must have found something fascinating to talk to him about, or Tony had a breakthrough in the lab and is paging him to come down and help. Normally he'd be eager to talk to one or both, but not right now. His head is pounding, his side aches painfully, and the bed is right at that perfect temperature, where it's warm, but not too warm.
But he is also a guest.
He groans. "Five more minutes--"
"Lunch was quite some time ago, Master Peter," Alfred says gently. "Normally I wouldn't mind letting you sleep through it, but I think you need it."
Peter freezes in place and then slowly tilts his head until he can see Alfred out of one eye. The man is standing beside his bed, half illuminated by the lamp on the nightstand. "How long have I been asleep, sir?"
"Call me Alfred," he replies, checking his watch. "And you've been asleep for three hours."
Oh god.
His mortification must show, because Alfred is quick to continue. "It's quite alright. You needed the rest. Clearly."
"Yeah, but I came here to hang out with Tim, not sleep," Peter mutters, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. The curls have gone wildly out of control as they tend to do when he falls asleep with wet hair. He probably looks like hot garbage. He certainly feels like it. Beyond the embarrassment, at least. There's a heat in his body just above comfortable, and a gravelly tone to his voice that's gotten worse since he first spoke with Tim this morning. Those jagged rocks have turned into a mountain, smothering his voice. "I kind of feel like a tool."
"You needed the rest and Master Tim certainly doesn't hold that against you." Alfred repeats. "He's running an errand for one of his brothers at the moment regardless."
"Duke?" Peter asks. He frowns. "Is he all right?"
"Master Duke is with Master Jason at the moment. He's quite all right. Master Tim is visiting Master Richard," Alfred says. He pauses, watching Peter closely. After a moment he reaches out and presses the back of his hand against Peter's forehead.
"Um," Peter mumbles.
"You have a fever," Alfred says.
"Oh." He does. He can tell. But he also can't afford a trip to see a doctor, or medicine. "No, I just run warm--"
"And you sound ill. Is there someone I can call to take you home later when the storm passes? I don't want you walking home in this cold."
"Uh, no. Not really," Peter mumbles.
"Surely a parent--"
"No, there's--it's just me. I live alone." He knows he should think of something to say. If only to keep Alfred from calling child protective services on him. He can't. He's just too tired.
Alfred goes silent at that, his expression softening. "I see. Then you're staying here."
It takes Peter's feverish mind a moment to understand him. That's also a bad idea. He can't just stay in Bruce fucking Wayne's house. "Oh, no, that's okay. I-I don't want to impose--"
"You aren't," Alfred says simply, tucking Peter back into bed. Peter is so tired and the bed is so warm that he doesn't put up a fight as Alfred deftly folds the blankets back over him."Stay here, please. I'll be back with your meal in a little while. We'll discuss further arrangements after you start to feel better."
"That sounds like a supremely awkward conversation," Peter mumbles.
"Not as much as you would think," Alfred replies, his tone dry and amused. He dims the lamp on the nightstand and moves towards the door. "Good night, Master Peter."
Peter makes a quiet noise back, melting back into the blankets. The room falls back into silence as he sleeps.
Unseen and unheard, the dusted Avengers rest alongside their comrade, nursing their own wounds.
BATCHAT
Tim (05:13pm): something's been bothering me
Tim (05:13pm): croc said it was just him, Two-Face, and four of his friends who took the hit on Dick
Duke (05:14pm): witnesses only saw five attack Spider-Man. Killer Croc, Two-Face, Clayface, Joker, and Scarecrow.
Tim (05:15pm): which means the last one is out there and probably gunning for Dick
Barbara (05:16pm): Keep an eye out.