Chapter 5
“This is the grossest thing I've ever done.”
Rhodey wiped the sweat off his forehead. “No, this is the grossest thing Sam and I have ever done while you stand by and complain.”
“I have a very weak stomach,” Tony said.
“Weak arms, more like,” Rhodey muttered, tossing another shovelful of dirt out of the grave.
“Are you sassing me? Don't I outrank you?”
“Get in the hole and dig, Tony.”
Tony glared but picked up the shovel. “So do we take him out of the coffin?”
“I don't think so,” Sam said. “The body's too fragile.”
“Gross,” Tony said. “Just gross.”
“Did you get a hold of Helen?” Rhodey asked Sam, who nodded.
“She said there's a landing pad for the quinjet all set. I told her we'd be there late tonight.” His shovel scraped along and he knelt to dust off the top of the coffin. “She still seems pretty skeptical of the whole thing.”
“Understandable,” Rhodey said, beginning to dig around the edges. “Hell, I'm not sure I believe it. But, hey, if it works-”
“Yeah,” Tony said, looking around the graveyard still lit by the last rays of the sun. “If.”
“Tell me what we've got,” Steve called, pushing into the complex's security center. Maria Hill spun around in her chair from the monitor display.
“We haven't gotten a clear shot of his face yet,” she said. “Friday's running everything she's got. He should be passing another camera in a few seconds. Hopefully we'll see him then-”
“Agent Hill,” Friday lilted. “Facial match detected.”
Steve and Maria crowded around the monitor.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Steve growled.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Bruce Banner turned jerkily, wringing his hands nervously. “Oh, good,” he said, voice layers of anxiety and exhaustion. “You are here.”
Steve glared at him. “How did you find us, Banner?”
He shrugged miserably. “I went to the tower first. Pepper wouldn't let me in.”
“Can you blame her?”
Bruce shook his head. “She said you were here, though. So I took a bus to as close as I could get, which turned out to be not very.”
“Yeah, well, we don't usually put secret bases on public transportation lines.”
“I figured.” Bruce looked around. “I have to admit, I was kind of expecting something to try and shoot me.”
“I haven't ruled it out yet,” Steve said through gritted teeth.
“I guess that's your right. Where is everyone?”
“They're out,” Steve said.
“All of them?”
“Most.” Steve shook his head. “Where have you been?”
“The Falklands?” Bruce said. “I caught a boat. Started moving up through South America. Spent some time in Haiti.” He sighed heavily. “Steve? I've been walking for hours. If you're gonna be mad at me, can we do it sitting down?”
“You couldn't call?” Steve said. “You couldn't let us know if you were even alive?”
“If I'd called you, you would have made me come back,” Bruce said tiredly. “And I just – I couldn't.”
“But now you can?”
Bruce didn't say anything.
“How could you?” Steve snapped, last shred of icy decorum ripping apart. “You just up and leave us like that? Crash your plane into the middle of the ocean – real original, by the way – and disappear?”
“I know what I did wasn't right-”
“You're damn right it wasn't. I mean, I thought we were becoming more than just a team, Bruce. Did that mean nothing to you?”
“Steve-”
“You know what, fuck it. I don't care why you left anymore. We all sat around wringing our hands for long enough. The only thing I want to know is why you're back,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Bruce looked up, meeting Steve's eyes steadily for the first time. “I came home,” he said, “because I missed you.”
For a moment, Bruce just held his breath. Nothing changed in Steve's posture. His face was still icy. But somewhere deep inside the clear blue eyes something relaxed, and he nodded his head and lead Bruce inside.
“We're all good here, Maria,” he said, hand to his ear. “You can head out.”
They walked stiffly down the dark chrome hallways. Bruce could see Tony's hand in the design, the practicality of it beneath the flash. “You can sleep here,” Steve said, pushing open the door to reveal a plain guest room. Bruce bit back a whimper at the sight of the bed. “Kitchen's straight down the hall. Friday'll help if you need anything.”
Bruce nodded, gently lowering himself onto the mattress. His feet instantly began to drone with pain, and he closed his eyes for a moment as the aches of the day began to sink in.
“Steve?” he said, cracking his eyes open to look at the other man, silhouetted in the doorway. “I am sorry.”
Steve nodded. “It's not quite enough yet,” he said, “but I appreciate it, Bruce.”
He closed the door. The room fell into darkness, and Bruce Banner fell into sleep.
STEVE: Don't tell Tony
STEVE: It'll just freak him out.
From where he sat in between the wall and the coffin, Sam Wilson sighed and questioned for what felt like the hundredth time that night what he was doing with his life.
RE:STEVE: You know, you're awful lucky you're cute, Rodgers.
RE:STEVE: How's Nat?
STEVE: She doesn't know either.
RE:STEVE: What
STEVE: She's asleep. I'll tell her first thing tomorrow.
RE:STEVE: If she murders you, I'm not going to be responsible for avenging you
STEVE: You're such a supportive boyfriend.
Sam chuckled softly.
“No sexting on my quinjet, Wilson,” Tony called.
“Just try and stop me,” Sam called back lightly.
RE:STEVE: Just remember that next time you decide to take a leap without a parachute.
STEVE: Parachutes just slow you down.
RE:STEVE: That is literally the point of a parachute.
RE:STEVE: That is why they exist.
RE:STEVE: Their whole raison-d'etre is to slow you down to keep you from becoming a squashed capsicle.
STEVE: Ha ha.So where are you now?
RE:STEVE: Flying over Korea. I'll keep you posted.
STEVE: Okay.
RE:STEVE: Get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow.
Sam stood, stretching out the aches in his legs, and walked forward to the cockpit where Tony and Rhodey sat.
“So what's Cap say?” Tony asked, not taking his eyes off the window. Sam shrugged.
“Just checking in.”
Tony nodded. “We're landing in a few minutes.”
Sam settled himself into the seat behind Tony. He looked back at the coffin planted solidly in the center of the quinjet, clumps of dirt still clinging to it.
“How long will it take to repair a body like that?”
Tony shrugged. “It's not really my area. But judging by the amount of tissue she's going to have to recreate? I'd say about a day, maybe more.” He pushed a few buttons. “Beginning descent.”
“This is the quinjet, radioing in to Seoul air control,” Rhodey said into the microphone. “We are beginning our descent now.”
“Rodger that,” a voice crackled back over the line. “Clear to descend.”
The sparkling lights of the city grew closer and more distinct as they headed towards the ground, Tony and Rhodey guiding them steadily towards the private helicopter pad Helen had secured for them. They saw her waving from the door as they touched down.
“We're here,” Tony said, turning off the engines.
“Really,” Rhodey drawled, stretching in his seat before standing up. Tony opened the doors as Rhodey began to unstrap the coffin.
“Where are those floaty things you were using?” he called up to the cockpit.
“They're still attached. I have the remote,” Tony called back. He pulled it a square box and pressed a few buttons on it. The bottom of the coffin lit up as mini repulsors lifted it into the air.
“Pretty nifty, huh?” he said to Sam with a contagious grin. Sam shook his head and ducked out of the jet.
“Helen,” he called, extending a hand to the scientist. “Thanks again for helping us with this.”
She shrugged. “If this works I could be in line for a Nobel prize. I'm not passing it up.”
“Still,” he said. “We appreciate it.”
She raised her eyebrows at the sight of the coffin floating out of the quinjet. “You didn't take him out?”
“We were worried the body might be too fragile.”
She nodded. “Probably for the best. Right this way, Tony,” she called. “We'll take it from here.”
“Wanda!”
He came running over to her through the smoke. “They're sending in troops.”
“I'm not leaving.”
“If we don't go now, we'll end up in prison.” He pulled a bottle and a lighter out of his pocket. “I didn't say we should go quietly.”
The bottle burst into flames right at the foot of the first soldier. She whooped loudly, throwing the arm he wasn't tugging her out of the square with into the air.
“You're going to get us both killed,” he growled later, lighting a fire in the trash bin with a scowl.
“We're taking a stand,” she said, spooning stolen soup into two cans and handing him one.
“You're not superhuman, Wanda,” he sighed.
“You're one to talk,” she said, running a gentle hand over the cut above his eye.
“I'm the oldest -”
“By twelve minutes.”
“Which makes me twelve minutes wiser than you.”
She scoffed.
He rolled out their ragged flannel blanket and lay back on it, staring up at the sky through the hole in the roof. She pushed him over to lie next to him.
“We're taking a stand,” she said again. His hand found hers and clasped it tight.
“Taking a stand,” he agreed.
“Wanda?”
She woke with tears in her eyes.
“It is time,” Thor rumbled softly. “I will meet you in the courtyard.”
She got dressed quickly, dark running tights and red reinforced jacket. She brushed her hair up into a ponytail. Last night's eye makeup was still smudged around her eyes, giving her a haunted, sleepless look.
Not too far off, she thought.
The palace was still and quiet as she made her way down the hall. Sif met her at the end.
“Good luck,” she said. “I will be praying for your success.”
“Who does a god pray to?” Wanda asked.
Sif did not answer her. Instead she placed her hands gently on Wanda's shoulders and kissed the top of her forehead lightly. Wanda felt tears rising to her eyes.
“Thor and the others are outside,” Sif said. “Godspeed.”
Wanda nodded and continued outside. She saw them at once, heads bent in conversation, silhouetted against the rising sun. They turned towards her as she approached.
“You ready to go, kid?” Clint asked.
She nodded. Thor lead them out of the courtyard and towards the sparkling dome where they had arrived.
“Heimdall will open the gates as close as he can,” Thor said. “But we will essentially have to walk until Hel notices us.”
“And how long will that be?” Clint asked.
Thor shrugged. “I don't know.”
They passed over the bridge in tense silence. Clint was fingering the woven bracelet around his wrist, remembering his daughter's tiny fingers tying it on.
“Pietro!” she screamed, the wave of blue uniformed bodies closing in on her, pulling her back from the crowd, from her brother. She stumbled blindly, being pushed along by those around her. Someone grabbed her arm.
“Who are you?” the officer spit in her face. “Where are your parents?”
“Pietro!” she screamed again, terror wrapped tight around her chest.
She heard him before she saw him, calling out her name in answer. The officer dropped her arm to face him and an overripe fruit burst across his faceguard. Pietro grabbed her arm and pulled her down the back alleys, not stopping until he seemed sure they hadn't been followed.
“Are you alright?” he said.
She nodded, shaking. “I thought I'd lost you.”
He pulled her in close to his chest, running a hand that shook just like hers down her long dark hair. “You could never lose me,” he said. “We'll find each other. We'll always find each other.”
They filed into the dome in silence, looking to Thor for instructions. He nodded towards one of the great arches and they lined up outside it.
“All speed, Odinson,” Heimdall rumbled gravely. “And may you find what you're searching for.”
The portal opened, gusting winds through the dome, whipping their hair and clothes. Vision took her hand.
“I'll find you,” she whispered, and jumped.