Chapter 7
Tony Stark was not, despite all evidence to the contrary, an idiot. He knew exactly why he had been banished to the street to get coffee, and it was not, as Rhodey had put it, he kept “poking things.” Nope. Tony was being shielded and he knew it. But he was also old enough to recognize that it was probably a good idea.
He really had to hand it to Rhodey. He was handling the situation masterfully, shifting responsibility for the corpse onto the shoulders of those it would affect the least. Sam and Rhodey were both in the running for the Most Stable and Together Person in the Avengers, and they had never even met the kid. Tony had been allowed to come mostly so Steve wouldn't, which Tony supported one hundred percent – Steve felt personally responsible for strangers on the street, he couldn't handle seeing the rotting body of a twenty-something year old under his command, and Tony knew that Natasha, despite her cool exterior, identified way to much with the twins' story. And now, when Helen had announced that the casket was all set up, he had sent Tony out for coffee because of the aforementioned poking and the fact that apparently, no matter what, Tony would always complain about coffee that he hadn't bought or made himself. Unspoken was the crushing guilt Rhodey knew Tony felt about his own part in the kid's death, and even in his life.
“It's, what, familiar? Like old times?”
Wanda had never actually spoken to him about what Steve had told him, about the shell the twins had lain beside for three days with his name blazed across it, but it was still there every time they were in the same room. His fists clenched with an old familiar fury at Obie, so long dead, still fucking Tony over. And then, deeper and more painful, a sharp disgust at himself, for not seeing and stopping him sooner.
So yeah. Maybe moving Pietro from the coffin wasn't the best thing for him to be doing.
Tony kicked the curb impatiently. Being mentally mature didn't always seem to translate to his emotions these days, and he felt generally irritable and useless, despite, or perhaps because of, the coffee in his hand.
He stood outside Dr Cho's building, waiting for the guard to finish calling up to Helen, despite the fact that he was clearly Tony Stark, avenger and genius billionaire, and not some sort of corporate spy – for fuck's sake, he was pretty sure he was paying Helen for most of her research.
The guard waved him through and he let himself into the elevator with a sigh. He sipped his own coffee on the way up, enjoying the slight burn of it down his throat.
Sam, Rhodey, and Helen stood around a monitor when the elevator opened. “Coffee,” Tony called. They all turned, looking grateful. “What's happening?”
“It's progressing much better than I expected,” Helen said, a note of excitement in her voice. “Once we began the process the cells actually began to regenerate themselves.”
“Because of the advanced metabolism?” Tony said, studying the screen.
“It seems so. Just add electricity and they're off.”
Tony whistled slightly, watching the image on the screen, pixels climbing over each other in the shape of a man.
“Who knows?” he said. “This might actually work.”
Halfway across the bridge, the darkness began to lift. A gray mist descended upon them.
“Spooky,” Clint deadpanned.
They stopped on the farther shore, resting their feet. Thor passed around a leather bag of dried fruits and meats which they ate hungrily.
“So what now?” Clint asked. Thor shrugged.
“We go that way,” Wanda said, pointing off into the mist.
Clint, Vision, and Thor exchanged a series of “you ask her” glances.
“Why?” Clint said finally, glaring at the other two.
“Because I can feel something over there,” she said dully.
“Wanda, are you alright?” Clint asked nervously.
“No,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off. “Let's go.”
With a shrug, the others pushed to their feet and followed her.
“Captain Rodgers,” FRIDAY lilted. “The Barton family car is coming down the driveway. Agent Romanoff is with them.”
Steve nodded, wiping the paint on his fingers off onto his sweatpants, a deep sense of relief spreading through his chest. “Thanks, Friday,” he said. “Is Dr Banner-”
“He is unpacking his things, sir.”
“Okay. Maybe don't let him know yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He washed the brush he had been using and headed outside just in time to see Laura pulling up to the garage. Excited squeals came from the backseat as Cooper and Lilah banged on the windows. Laura stopped the car and the two mini Bartons exploded out, smashing into Steve's legs.
“Cap!” they shrieked excitedly. Steve laughed, picking up Lilah and ruffling Cooper's hair.
“This is a surprise,” he said.
“Auntie Nat almost threw up in the car,” Lilah said very seriously. “So I gave her mini Cap to hold. Otherwise he'd say hi too.”
Laura came over to him, holding baby Nate on her hip. “I have two very hyper kids and one very drunk assassin for you,” she said. “Don't let either of them near sharp objects.”
“Yes ma'am,” he said. Laura smiled and kissed his cheek. “It's good to see you, Steve. I'm gonna put Nate down for a nap.”
He nodded, putting Lilah down and heading over to the passenger seat where Natasha slept slumped against the window. She woke as he opened the door.
“Steve,” she slurred cheerfully.
“Okay, up you go,” he said, scooping her up. She smiled.
“You know, you have really good shoulders,” she said earnestly.
“Let's go inside, kiddos,” Steve told the Bartons, ignoring Natasha for now. They scampered off ahead of him. “What did you do?” he muttered to Natasha. She replied in what he thought was Russian.
“English, Nat.”
She burped. “I got drunk.”
He set the kids up in his studio with crayons and construction paper and carried Natasha into the kitchen with a sigh, pouring her a big glass of water and watching as she drank the whole thing. She kept dropping it to babble in various languages Steve didn't speak. He managed to have what passed for a conversation with her once she switched to french, but halfway through she began speaking Russian again and he lost her. He waited patiently for her to finish her water.
“Now bed,” he said sternly, lifting her up once more.
“It's not fair,” she said quietly, nestling into his chest. He sighed, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“No,” he said. “It's really not.”
They had been walking for what felt like an hour but may have been five minutes or a day when the first ghost appeared.
It was pale and gaunt, like a faded black and white photo of a person, and it floated to hang beside Thor in the air, hands reaching towards his hair but never touching.
Others flocked to them after that, brushing up against each other to hover around the travelers. A crowd was gathered around Vision, empty eyes locked on the gem in his forehead.
“Holy shit,” Clint muttered as one drifted past him. “I know that guy. He was a scientist, tried to create a superweapon. Shield had to put him down.”
The ghosts did nothing to hinder their path as the kept moving forward, more and more drifting in their wake.
“Wanda,” a hoarse voice croaked out of the mist. She stopped dead, the color draining from her face till she resembled one of the ghosts around her.
“Pietro?” she gasped, whirling towards the voice.
“Wanda, no,” Thor said, reaching out to catch her arm, but he missed, hand closing on empty air as she pushed out into the mist. “Wanda!”
She could feel them running after her, hear them calling her name, but the only thing she could think about was the memory of her brother standing on the cliff, reaching towards her. It's here, she thought. He's here.
“Pietro!” she called. “Pietro!”
The fog cleared suddenly and she was there, standing alone on the empty cliff. She could hear Clint screaming something behind her as she hesitated for just a moment -
“Wanda,” the voice croaked once more, and she jumped.
Strong hands closed around her waist almost as soon as she left the ground, Vision pulling her up into the air and back down. She thought she could feel him shaking.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Clint screamed, yanking her out of Vision's arms and shaking her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“I had to get him back!” she sobbed. “It doesn't matter! I've been dead since he left me. I have to get him back!”
“Don't you say that,” he snapped, holding her chin to force her to look him in the eye. “Don't you ever say that, you hear me? You want your brother back? Fine. We're getting him back. You throw yourself off that cliff and we never see him again.” He pulled her in tight to his chest. “Do you feel that?” he said. “I'm here. I'm holding you. You're still alive, Wanda,” he said. “And as long as you are, we can get your brother back.”
There was a sudden, shrieking laughter behind them and they turned, Vision and Thor stepping protectively in front of Clint and Wanda.
They were standing in a vaulted throne room, with walls of ebony and a floor of bone. At the end of the room sat a skeletal woman upon whose head sat a crown of brambles.
“It has been years since I have seen your kind down here,” she creaked.
Thor knelt, nodding to the others to do the same.
“Lady Hel,” he rumbled gravely.
She sat upon an ebony throne, translucent skin pulled tight across her bony frame. Nothing seemed to move in the room. Wanda's very breath felt like a disturbance.
“What the hell?” Clint said, looking around. The skeletal woman grinned.
“Exactly, archer.”
Vision stepped forward slightly. “You have been watching us.”
The woman nodded. “You are entertaining.”
“Luring Wanda off a cliff, that was entertaining to you?” he snapped.
Vision stepped forward again, threatening, angry, and Wanda reached out to grab his hand, his normally cool fingers feeling warm in the chill of the room.
“Do not dare to criticize me,” she croaked. “Here, I am queen. I control all here. And all eventually pass through my kingdom. Even you, the Vision.” Her voice creaked like a sinking ship. Wanda tightened her grip on the android's hand. He looked back at her, a moment of silent communication passing between them, and stepped back closer to her.
“We have a request,” Thor said after a moment.
“You always do.” She sounded almost amused.
“You took this young woman's brother-”
“Liar!” Hel shrieked. A flock of crows took off around them. Wanda ducked behind Vision's cape. Clint drew his bow and pointed it at the goddess.
“That's what she's here for,” Hel rasped. “Tell me why you're here, Odinson.”
Thor stiffened slightly. “I don't know-”
“You do.” Hel's empty eyes bore into Thor's. “Ask it, Odinson.”
He looked around, to Wanda, Vision, eyes lingering on Clint for a moment.
“Ask!” Hel barked.
“May I speak with my brother?” Thor said. Next to him, Clint tensed noticable.
Hel watched him for a moment longer. “You have no brother here.”
“I wish to speak with Loki Laufeyson.”
“He is not here, Odinson.”
Thor's grip tightened on his hammer. “Then where is he?”
She shrugged. “I do not know. But your brother has not passed through my kingdom.”
“What do you mean?” Thor said.
Hel laughed dryly. They could hear her jawbones click. “He is the trickster, Odinson. You have been tricked.”
“I watched him die,” Thor growled.
“He's not here,” Hel said.
“How is that possible?” he roared.
Hel shrugged. “I do not watch your world that closely. Mine is enough for me.”
“But-”
“Thor,” Clint warned.
“No,” Thor snapped. “That is impossible.”
“And yet it is true,” Hel wheezed. She waved a skeletal hand through the still air. “No more, Odinson. I will speak to the mortal now.”
“But-”
“No more,” she said dangerously. “Wanda.”
Wanda stepped forward, still holding Vision's hand. “I am here for my brother.”
Hel stared at her, unimpressed. “Your brother's soul is mine, child.”
“I am here to take it back.”
“No,” Hel said calmly.
“We have a claim to it,” Thor said tightly.
“As do I.”
“Please,” Wanda said softly.
“I have heard requests such as yours since the beginning of time, child,” Hel said. “What makes you different?”
Wanda said nothing. Hel leered.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You love him. He didn't deserve to die. He was so young. You can't live without him.” She laughed dryly. “I have heard all of these arguments and more for men far better than your brother.”
She gestured lazily and the fog at the bottom of the throne solidified, swirling to form a shape Wanda had always known, would always know – the face more familiar to her than her own – her brother was standing ghostly before him.
“Pietro,” she said, and he looked up, eyes uncomprehending.
“Now you I know, Clinton,” Hel said, paying Wanda no mind. “You have been wandering in and out of my kingdom for years. I would have liked to meet Natasha properly as well.”
“I'll pass on your regards,” Clint spat. Hel tilted her head to study him.
“Why are you here, archer?” she asked. “You've spent your whole life avoiding me. Why stop now?”
“I owe the kid a debt,” he said tightly.
“Noble,” Hel creaked. She turned her empty gaze onto Vision. “Now you are something I have never seen before in my kingdom. A man made out of machine.”
“We are here for a reason,” Vision said coolly. “Might we return to it?”
Hel laced her skeletal fingers together with a click. “Cranky.”
“It's been a long day,” Vision drawled.
Hel sighed. “You can't have him. He is mine.”
“Pietro,” Wanda said again, quietly. His eyes searched her face.
“He has almost forgotten you,” Hel said dispassionately.
Wanda's eyes flared red. “I have not forgotten him.”
She reached out to him, their minds clicking together like puzzle pieces. She offered him little things at first – his favorite color. Saturday morning cartoons. A ragged blue dog he had dragged by the foot. Then bigger. Their first day at school, clutching tight to each others hands as the teacher called their names. Games of hide-and-seek in their apartment. Father's hand ruffling his hair. Mother's lips pressed to his forehead. Every last second buried beneath the rubble, and every moment of laughter that had ever passed between them, their whole lives, laid out for him to see. The sound of his exasperated sigh, passive-aggressive muttering under his breath, the look of pride in his eyes when Wanda did something great, the sense of freedom he felt when he took off running, letting the world fall away into a blur. She gave him everything she could, and when she had nothing left he met her eyes with the full weight of recognition.
“Wanda?” he gasped, and Hel screamed.