Iron Before Steel

Strange Visitor: Iron Before Steel

Chapter 12 – Where the Heart is

September 30^th, 2009 – [Redacted], Iowa

Natasha hugged the small child to her chest, reveling in the feeling of warmth she got every time one of the Barton kids was in her arms. Anyone who suggested such a possibility to her before her defection ran the risk of being shot in the face for stupidity if nothing else.

Now, they would risk a devastating look and possible ass-kicking. After all, she had a reputation to uphold as SHIIELD’s premier badass. Or she might decide to prank them mercilessly for a week or so, as that often served to both drive the recipient crazy and make her smile (when no one was looking).

Barton was rubbing off on her. She’d have to make him suffer for that, too.

She ran her hands through little Lila Barton’s hair, gently massaging the little girl’s scalp in a soothing rhythm as the toddler slept nestled against her body.

She and Barton had arrived at the farm late at night three evenings past, well after the kids' bedtime. She hadn’t seen her “niece” or “nephew” since the last time she’d been here several months prior. The visits became more common as Clint’s family grew more deeply entwined with her emotions and new life here.

Once, that would have been enough to drive her into the wind, never to be seen again. But she wasn’t that person anymore. She was still discovering who she was now a little more each day.

It was a terrifying and exhilarating experience all at once.

Lila had attached herself to Natasha’s side since the little girl laid eyes on her this morning, much to the displeasure of her brother, who had to settle for stealing her attention during nap time. Since Lila wasn’t two years old yet, though, nap time was plentiful, and often, so she didn’t feel that Cooper was being neglected too badly.

Speak of the little devil…

Her nephew rushed into the room at that moment, running right past his father's outstretched arms and directly toward herself. His little mouth opened, ready to shout something like “Auntie Nat, can you play now?” at the very top of his little lungs, when she silenced him with a single look and one raised finger to her lips. She nodded toward the sleeping child on her chest and raised an eyebrow in challenge to ward off any impending tantrum or pouting from the boy.

“It always amazes me how quickly you learned to do that. I’m almost jealous. Turns out you’re a natural with kids, Nat,” Laura said from the chair beside the couch Natasha was sitting on. “I hope you are ready for babysitting weekends and day trips so Mommy and Daddy can get some time off,” Laura teased.

And wasn’t kidding either, Natasha could tell. Which should have been terrifying, but she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the thought.

Too much.

Clint, still holding his arms wide as he stared down at the son who was ignoring him for the favored (only) aunt, looked up with a slightly affronted expression to add his own two cents on that topic.

“Good. Because I can’t get the time of day off this one whenever you’re around, he only wants to play with his Auntie Nat. Dad is old news.” He shook his head in mock sorrow as he looked down at his son.

Cooper did not appear swayed by his father’s theatrics.

“You don’t play Legos as good as Auntie Nat. You don’t do voices," the young Barton complained to his dad. Who immediately picked up on the voice's comment and looked up at Natasha with a glint in his eyes.

Uh oh.

“Oh, is that right? Auntie Nat does all the voices when she plays with you, does she?” The grin on Clint’s face grew to Cheshire Cat levels as he contemplated how he would best use this information to embarrass her in the near future. She’d have to go to Laura for some blackmail material later.

“Face it, Birdbrain, I do everything better than you.” She gestured to the sleeping child in her arms, something that Clint was notoriously bad at… his kids refused to sleep whenever he tried to settle them down.

“Okay, okay. Rub it in. Fine, you give me the sleepy one and take the choosy one instead,” he quietly said as he reached out to take little Lila from her arms. For the briefest of moments, something fierce and primal snarled in her chest – mine! – was the instinctual thought that inserted itself into her being without invitation.

She hesitated for an instant, certainly not long enough for anyone to notice. Clint took Lila without any trouble as he smiled down at his angelic (only because she was sleeping, he would say with a smile) daughter.

Natasha’s eyes flicked over to Laura for a split second, and the look on her friend’s face indicated that the hesitation to give up her daughter perhaps hadn’t gone unnoticed. Laura had a strange little smile and a glint of her own in her eyes. There would be a conversation at some point later.

Brushing that thought aside to be dealt with later, she turned and knelt in front of her nephew.

“You go get your toys and bring them to the den. We can play in there since your sister’s room is right next to yours, okay, Coop?” Natasha could only smile at the enthusiastic nod from the little boy who rocketed off toward the stairs to his room. She stood and turned back to Laura, and the two watched in amusement as Clint gingerly picked up the bag with Lila’s things and slowly followed his son toward the stairs.

Laura turned back toward her after he was gone and raised an eyebrow.

“So, wanna talk about that little hiccup a minute ago? You know, the part where you didn’t want to hand over your niece?” Laura’s grin started looking a bit like Clint’s from earlier.

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned away as she replied. “Not really. It was just a thing, an urge. It isn’t anything to worry about, I promise.”

Laura didn’t let up. “I’m not worried, Natasha. I’m just curious. You’ve opened up over the last year, both to us and the kids. With everything you’ve shared with us about… the way you grew up… I know it’s hard to let people in. To let yourself trust and feel. I just want you to know we’re here for you. You’re family. And you are worthy of that love that I can see you shrinking back from whenever you see or feel it.”

Nat stood there for a moment, not willing to turn back and face her friend to show the weakness that she was sure was written across her face at that moment. She struggled to keep the tears from escaping while everything she had ever been taught and had been beaten into her over nearly two decades of brutal training screamed at her that it was folly.

Love is for children.

A lesson that still echoed through the halls of her mind and stalked her in her worst nightmares.

“Those children love you, Nat. It’s okay to love them back.”

Nat turned, looking into her friend's eyes as she felt another small chip break away in the walls surrounding her. “I’m trying, Laura. It’s not easy, but I’m trying.” Laura smiled gently at that admission and drew her over toward the couch where the pair sat down and got comfortable.

Natasha kept her eyes on the room around her for several moments once they were comfortably settled. Anywhere else was preferable to Laura’s eyes right now. She couldn’t bear to see the pity she knew must be there.

“Tell me about the mission. Clint mentioned a little bit but left most of the details out. What happened out there, Nat?”

Natasha stared straight ahead for several more moments, deciding exactly what to say. “It was supposed to be routine. In and out target grab. A bunch of Italian mobster types were looking to get into the big leagues of gun-running. Coulson ran the whole op, with Hill in the field as backup alongside Agent Morse. Clint and I were the advance team, while the others hung back with Strike as backup.”

Natasha breathed in, trying to keep her emotions under control as the images from what they found in the compound flashed in her mind's eye. It had been… too close to home.

“Clint and I went in first and found that they’d been running more than guns. People were being trafficked as well. Men, women… children. Dozens of them. Some of them were in pretty bad shape, too. This wasn’t like the other times we'd run across these bastards. They’d had these people there for a while. I don’t think they knew who to contact or how to get into that trade, so they were sitting on them. The looks on the faces of the young kids there hit me somewhere… familiar.”

Laura, to her credit, kept silent and just listened. She let her friend unburden herself because that was what was needed. Nat stopped fighting the tears and let them flow, trusting in Laura that she wouldn’t make her feel weak or somehow lesser for showing that vulnerability.

Laura hugged her and rested her head against Natasha’s as she let her continue the story.

“Clint didn’t even try to stop me this time. I think he planned on doing the same thing, but I just beat him. After it was all over, the people there looked up at me and thanked me for setting them free, and all I could think of was how we should have been there sooner. We shouldn't have let it happen at all. This time, it didn’t feel like I was wiping red out of the ledger, just adding more.”

Laura jumped in at that. “That’s not true, and you know it. I know feelings are complicated, but you’ve done your best. We aren’t gods that can stop these sorts of things from happening everywhere. There will always be evil men out in the world looking to take whatever power and pleasure they can, no matter who they hurt. It’s not ever your job to take responsibility for that, you hear me? The godmother of my children, my friend, is a wonderful person, which is exactly why she feels so terrible about this. You keep being you, Nat. The mission will take care of itself, got it?”

Natasha pulled back out of the embrace and looked her friend in the face. “That’s pretty much what Clint said. And Coulson. And Hill and everyone else. Even Fury. Nick Fury gave me the ‘It’s not your fault, Romanoff, so chin up’ speech. It was so embarrassing.”

Laura grinned at that. “Yeah, I may have heard that one once or twice myself. He usually saves it for his favorites, so you should be honored.” She threw in a wink at the end.

Nat smiled back. “I’ve noticed. The others teased me about it, too, but I just told them that if they were better at their jobs, then they’d be his favorite instead. Clint usually throws something at me when I use that on him. Coulson, bless him, nods and agrees.”

“That’s because Coulson is his real favorite. The golden boy himself. Give it enough time, though, Nat, and I think you’ll take the top spot.”

Natasha grinned evilly at that. “Well, I am best at everything else I do, so why not take Fury’s Most Favored Agent status also, right?”

The laughter was loud enough that Clint poked his head into the room to ensure they weren’t plotting something involving him.

Which, of course, only made the pair laugh harder.

________________________________________

North Sea/Arctic Circle

Three days of searching.

And nothing to show for it but flying in circles.

Clark didn’t know what he had been expecting when he helped organize this expedition, but it certainly wasn’t this. They hadn’t found anything in three days of searching so far.

The plan seemed solid. Kelex had noted that the energy produced by the Tesseract had been detectable decades prior, which was how it was located in the depths of the ocean by Howard Stark. They knew that the Valkyrie was carrying several bombs that the Tesseract had overclocked, and Kelex was theoretically familiar with the radiation profile that an Infinity Stone should produce. They intended to sweep over the last known location where Rogers had downed the aircraft in 1945 and expand a search grid from there out over the vast North Sea and ice floes where the Valkyrie might be resting.

In theory, it was a solid plan.

In actuality, the North Sea and the area they were searching was fucking huge. There was a reason no one had found the plane wreck despite decades of different military and civilian-funded searches. It was simply too damn big. Add in the years of shifting currents and moving ice, and it was nearly impossible.

Or it would be for anyone else.

They were detecting a background signal that Kelex believed was very possibly the bombs on board the crashed plane – or rather, the energy still stored within those bombs. They’d expected it to be easier to detect, as Stark had found the Tesseract relatively quickly after the war, only days or weeks after V-E day. They hadn’t factored in that the energy profile of the Tesseract itself would be far, far greater than the derivative bombs that carried only the tiniest sliver of its power.

Clark could only shake his head that they hadn’t considered that fact beforehand. Still, they did appear to be making progress. He had remembered something about the aircraft being spotted by a fishing vessel, so he’d had them overlay known fishing grounds over the area that was being searched. The background signal had shown up not long after they had moved further to the northeast to watch over those waters.

The whistle from the kitchenette told him that the tea kettle on the small stove was ready. He stepped through the curtains that afforded some small privacy to the living area module and set about readying several cups of tea for the morning.

Both Quinjets had been taking shifts since the beginning of their little adventure, though it was less of an issue for their group in the Bluebird. Kelex did not require sleep, so they could step away for a nap, the restroom, or the kitchen whenever needed. Still, they’d broken up into pairs for the most part, with Bucky and Lana usually taking one shift, leaving him all alone to be teased mercilessly by Emma Frost at her leisure.

He didn’t mind all that much. Who would?

"Mmm. I hope that you have brewed enough tea for everyone, country boy. It smells excellent," said the aforementioned Ms. Frost. She was now sleepily smiling down at him from the top bunk in the ‘sleep stack’, as they were calling the four bunks in the living module.

Before he could respond, the second sleeping occupant of the room spoke.

“He always preferred tea instead of coffee. Weirdo. What kind of all-American fella prefers tea to homegrown grounds, huh?” Lana poked her red head out of the bunk underneath Emma’s, her sleepy grin matching the telepath’s above.

“Nice to see today off to a great start. I might start to think something was wrong if one of you wasn’t busting my chops every chance you get,” Clark grinned at the two drowsy ladies as he handed each one a thermos filled with steaming tea. “I find tea more soothing, Lana, as you well know. It was better for Pa’s heart than coffee, so it was all I ever grew up with.”

Lana’s smile turned a touch sad at that, but Clark kept speaking before she could feel bad.

“Besides, Pa said it was a Kent family tradition from the old country anyway. Plus, coffee breath is way worse than tea breath, and we all forgot to pack toothbrushes for this trip.”

Emma didn’t miss the opportunity Clark had just served up.

“You planning on needing fresh breath for any specific reason, Clark? Or should I go ahead and use my vivid imagination to provide it for you?” The blonde grinned at him as she sipped her thermos

and threw a saucy wink for good measure. Lana cackled, and Bucky almost choked on the mouthful of tea she had just inhaled.

A voice from the front grabbed their attention.

“Hey! Is one of you gonna remember to bring the pilot of this tin can a morning drink, or should I come back and get it myself?”

Clark stepped through the curtain and into the cockpit. Bucky was seated in the pilot’s chair, still alert and aware even after several hours of solo flight. The serum pumping through the man’s blood greatly enhanced the time he could go without sleep, so he was more than happy to keep his eyes on the horizon as they searched for his friend.

Clark’s sleep schedule was also fairly malleable, so he often spent time in the cockpit with Bucky just because he could. It wasn’t any great effort on Clark’s part. The perks of being a Kryptonian were nothing to sneeze at.

“Here, it’s Earl Grey,” Clark said as he handed over the steaming mug.

“Thanks,” the pilot responded as he accepted the beverage. “Don’t know what you got against good old American coffee, but this ain’t too bad as a substitute, I’ll admit.” He sipped down the hot drink as his eyes continued to scan the white haze of the horizon.

Clark joined him in surveying the white-out landscape below them. Ice bobbed in the choppy seas beneath them, some in small hunks and others in massive bergs and slabs. The wind was strong here as well. Clark didn’t think another aircraft would have been able to navigate and ride the turbulent currents nearly so well as the modified Quinjets.

“Bleak as hell, isn’t it?" Barnes added in a sad tone. “There’s just nothing out here. Waves and wind and hunks of ice.” He slowly shook his head, taking in the nearly monochromatic vista before them. “It tears me up thinking of Stevie resting here for all these years. He deserves a place that’s green under the sun. Somewhere people can go and see his memorial to pay their respect, ya know?”

Clark paused for a moment before answering. He wasn’t sure if Barnes knew but decided to tell him just to be sure.

“There is a place just like that, Buck. He’s got a monument at Arlington National Cemetery. I’ve never been, but my father saw it once. He said it was peaceful and dignified. He thought the captain would have approved,” Clark offered tentatively.

“Yeah, I know that place. It’s where the rest of the Howlies are laid down now. I snuck down to visit for a day before I swung through Brooklyn – don’t give me that look, I was careful. It’s nice, but it ain’t the same. It’s missing Stevie’s spirit somehow. Plus, the punk would have hated that damn statue they put up there.” Barnes gave a wistful grin with a hint of mischief. “He didn’t care about recognition or honors. He just wanted to do his part. To do all our parts if it was up to him. It should be him sitting here now, not me.”

Clark reached out to give Buck a pat on his human shoulder, but a small slender hand beat him to it.

“Hey, what have I told you? No getting down on yourself about that. It’s not your fault, or anyone’s, about how things ended. Steve would be happy to know that you’re alive and okay now. I know that I am,” Lana said as she gave Bucky a quick hug from behind at the back of his pilot’s seat. She flashed Clark a quick grin, which he answered with a wink, and she took her seat just behind Bucky in the second of the three rows of seats now positioned in the cockpit.

“Need a little encouragement of your own there, Clark?” He turned his head to see Emma lurking just over his shoulder with her trademark saucy leer aimed solidly in his direction. “Too late!” Before he could answer, she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek, earning her a laugh from the other two in the cockpit and a huff of laughter from Clark. He managed not to blush this time.

“Ooo. Look at that, Lana. He didn’t turn bright red. I think I’m wearing him down,” she laughed from behind him. He answered before anyone else could run with the thought.

“Yup. I’m becoming immune to your innuendos and flirtations now, Emma. It just doesn’t quite have the bite it used to. Don’t take it personally, though. I’m sure you’ve got something else up your sleeves to get a rise out of me – if you ever wore anything with sleeves.”

That got a solid guffaw out of Lana, and Bucky almost spit some of his tea out coughing. Emma just giggled behind him.

“Careful, farm boy. I’ve got plenty of ideas about how to get a rise out of you. If you’re really lucky, I might try one of them.” He turned his seat halfway back to respond, then kept his mouth shut before she said or did something that would make him blush. He was tired of feeling like an overstimulated teenager around the gorgeous blonde. Best not to provoke her into something outrageous right now.

The comm system crackled to life as the Blackbird signaled just then. Hank McCoy’s voice filled the cockpit.

“Greetings and good morning, fellow adventurers. I hope you had a lovely evening of rest last night because we’ve just picked up a signal not too distant to the northwest. We are sending over the coordinates now, along with our readings. If you hurry, you should be able to catch up before we arrive at the location. It appears solidly within a large glacier formation rather than a small ice floe in the sea. It looks promising, so please have Kelex confirm our data as soon as possible.”

The little droid in question floated between him and Bucky to monitor the display as the Blackbird's sensors provided information.

“Well, Kelex, what’s the word? Have they found what we’re here for?” Clark asked after a moment.

Kelex finished reviewing the transmitted data before turning to Clark and speaking. “Yes, Kal-El. It appears that Dr. McCoy has located the Valkyrie. It appears to be locked within a massive portion of glacial ice north of Svalbard near the edge of the Arctic Ocean at the heading he provided. I believe the thickness of the ice is part of the reason we have had so much difficulty locating our quarry. We should join them immediately.”

Clark nodded and looked at Bucky, who was already in the process of activating his comms. “This is the Bluebird. Kelex confirms that you’ve most likely located the target. We’re hauling ass your way. We should be there in less than 20 minutes. Send us your exact coordinates in 15 minutes. I don’t fancy a midair collision between two invisible jets if I can avoid it.”

McCoy quickly responded. “Affirmative, Bluebird. We’ll start scouting for a place to set down, if possible, as soon as we are on site. We will see you there.”

________________________________________

They had quickly located the wreckage once the Quinjets had approached the site. The radiation emitted by the Tesseract-enhanced weapons on board was much easier to pinpoint once they’d gotten within a few kilometers of the plane. It was almost completely encased within the ice of the glacier but not far from the edge and the potential freedom of the sea around them. Clark could see how this section might break free within the next few years and float away into the commercial shipping lanes and paths frequented by fishermen.

McCoy had passed out survival gear to the team before they departed Westchester, so everyone had quickly bundled up in sub-zero-rated winter apparel and grabbed their supplies. Lana always hated the cold, so Clark tried not to laugh as she burrowed her way into the suit provided for her. Clark asked McCoy why a bunch of teachers needed this much Arctic weather-proof clothing, and he grinned as he explained that more than one mutant at the school could affect the local temperature to a shocking degree. And the younger ones sometimes might do it unintentionally as they learn more about themselves and their powers.

Clark could only nod and be impressed by their foresight and preparedness. He strode down the ramp of the Bluebird last, noting that the five occupants of the Blackbird were attired identically to the three in his jet. Clark was the odd man out here as he walked out into the winter gale that blew around them, wearing only his boots, jeans, T-shirt, and jacket. He hadn’t even bothered to zip up the coat.

One of the team members from the Blackbird raised an arm, and the wind died around them in an instant.

Guess I know which one is Storm.

It was far easier to see around them now, without the strong gusts whipping snow and ice about, though the temperature was still far too cold for everyone else. Kelex spoke into the comm system they all were connected to with their earpieces and indicated which spot would likely be best to attempt to enter the wreckage. Everyone then turned to Clark.

There had been some back and forth during the search about how they should excavate the crashed plane to get inside and recover Captain Rogers. McCoy, Forge, Barnes, and Logan had expected they would have to muscle up and dig into the ice while letting Jean clear away the debris with her telekinetic abilities. Storm could keep the area clear for them, but she didn’t think using lightning bolts to tunnel down was a good idea. Clark readily agreed with that.

He told them he could handle getting them in – the ice wouldn’t be an issue.

Clark stepped forward and let the feeling of power rise within his center. He felt the pinpricks of heat radiate toward his eyes in long, thin rivulets of molten fire inside him. He focused and pushed and drove that feeling up within him toward his eyes.

His enhanced hearing caught the gasps around him as they saw his eyes shine with a burning golden glow. He hadn’t used his ‘heat vision’ much yet, outside of private training sessions as he tried to master his abilities, and none of the people around him had even known he was capable of this feat yet.

He channeled the power in him as the intensity built up behind his eyes, and after collecting as much of it as he thought he would need, slowly and steadily released it from his being. It was a sensation that he found incredibly hard to describe to anyone when they asked. They (which pretty much included Pete and Ma at this point) always wondered if it felt like channeling anger or rage, or if it was more like a consuming passion roaring through him.

None of those were close to what it felt like.

If he had to choose what using this particular ability felt like, he would say it felt most like releasing a sigh or a breath you had been holding for a minute or two. There was a sensation of relief, or letting go, in the action.

A golden stream of light and heat poured from his eyes and bore into the ice. Clark reigned it in as he’d never done before; he had to be mindful of temperature and strength – he couldn’t risk damaging the wreckage with the vital cargo on board. Plus, he didn’t want to accidentally melt half the glacier they were now standing on… he’d be fine if he got dumped into the Arctic Ocean, but no one else here would. Storm and Jean could likely keep them from disaster, but keeping a leash on his ability was better.

He carved a path down through the ice, directly up to the hull of the Valkyrie, at which point he cut off the beam. He quickly looked over his handiwork and nodded with satisfaction at the results.

“Alright, looks good to me. Give me just a second to peek inside and then we can cut an opening into the hull to get inside.”

Clark’s enhanced ‘X-ray’ vision flared to life. He didn’t use or emit X-rays. Kryptonian vision was naturally greater than human vision by an impressive factor – even without the effects of a yellow dwarf star empowering it. With it, Clark could stare into the night sky and see stars so distant they had long since died. Most people could see only a black sky and relatively few stars scattered across the heavens, but for Clark, it looked like something out of a science fiction movie: nebulae, galaxies, distant comets, and more. It was beautiful to behold.

Clark’s vision worked with a combination of both macro and microscopic vision simultaneously. More than 99.9999999% of matter was empty space between atomic particles, and Clark could look through and past that space on the micro level. His macro vision would then ‘assemble’ a real-time aggregate of the picture before him.

He peered down into the hole he had cut to see the exposed dorsal skin of the crashed jet. He focused and pushed his perception through the outer levels, sinking deeper into the interior space. Most of the interior of the bomb bay section was still intact, and he could see seven empty suicide bombs still in their racks there. His vision swept forward toward the cockpit then. The damage was more extensive at the front of the craft, which had impacted against the ice sixty-plus years earlier. Much of the lower half of the craft was crushed and mangled, and the large multi-paned windscreens at the front of the cockpit were cracked and shattered. The heat of the twin turbine engines that bracketed the main body of the crash must have melted the ice where it had come down, only for the plane to sink into the glacier where it refroze around it. And everything in it.

Clark could see the unmoving body of Steven Grant Rogers not far from the controls of the Valkyrie. It looked like water must have rushed through the destroyed windshield after the initial crash and preserved him perfectly as he was then. Dressed in his leather war-time Captain America suit, Clark could see his blue helmet not far from his body and his trademark disc shield embedded within the ice just next to him. The crash must have knocked him unconscious, and everything remained precisely where it had fallen when the water flash-froze inside the plane.

“I see him. He’s in the cockpit up front. The interior is mostly open. It looks like the ice didn’t expand much past the cockpit itself. He’s in a solid block of ice; cutting him out shouldn’t take too long. We should look at those bombs, too, while we are at it. It’s probably a stroke of incredible luck that they didn’t go off when the damn thing crashed decades ago. There wouldn’t have been anything left to find in that case.”

Storm took command in an instant. “Logan, get down there and make us a hole. Jean, I want you right behind him just in case some of the superstructure of the craft doesn’t hold up after all the time it’s been down here. Clark, you and Bucky go in after Jean and do what you can to start clearing space for us to cut him out of the front of the plane. Hank, you and Forge head to the hangar and look at those bombs. If they are active, I don’t want any surprises. Also, see if we can set up portable heat lamps to do some of this work in a more comfortable setting. Lana and Emma, grab the heat lamps and the climbing gear so we don’t have to rely on Jean to raise and lower everything all the time. Kelex, please keep scanning everything to the best of your ability, and let me know if anything changes. Let’s get to work, people. Daylight is burning. Or something like that.”

Clark grinned at Ororo. The woman had been trained to command, and it certainly showed.

________________________________________

Clark gazed at the interior of the crashed Valkyrie. There hadn’t been any issues getting into the wreck and setting up their gear in the available space within the hangar. After looking everything over, Hank and Forge declared that only one of the remaining Parasit bombers seemed to have any residual Tesseract energy, which was one reason it had been so challenging to locate, and the rest should be completely inert. Clark had carefully moved the active bomb to the back of the hanger, as far away from the rest of their equipment as possible, just to be safe.

They had removed some of their cold weather gear inside to make things a little easier to work with as Logan worked with Jean and Bucky to get Steve’s body out of the cockpit. They’d left him in the smallest block of ice possible to bring him out of the Valkyrie and into the Blackbird for the ride home. They didn’t want to take him out entirely until they returned to Westchester.

Hank and Kelex had checked with Clark to see when the droid should do a deep scan to see if Rogers was still alive in some kind of suspended animation. He decided to wait until they moved him to the Blackbird. Then, they could give Bucky the good news if it was as he suspected.

Clark continued to survey the ship's interior, including the now-defunct bombers around him. It was a testament to the engineering of the day that so much of the craft had survived the impact. He’d offered to use his heat vision to move things along more quickly, but they had determined it would be best for Logan to cut through the ice instead. Bucky thought it was a little more controlled than Clark’s approach. Plus, he felt it should be the two men who had served with Steve to be the ones to free him from his icy tomb. Logan – or Sergeant James Howlett, as Buck remembered him from the 1940s – agreed, even if he couldn’t remember their shared history.

His musings were cut short by a shout.

“We’ve got him. Coming out now, everyone stand clear,” Storm’s voice cut through the hangar. A brief moment later, a man-sized block of ice surrounded by a slightly pinkish glow floated through the doorway between the cockpit and the hangar. Still bundled up as she would be taking the Captain’s body to the Blackbird first, Jean walked through behind it with her arm extended. Clark expected that if he looked through the ski mask and goggles, he would have seen a look of intense concentration on her face. She walked the Captain – Clark bit his lip as he realized that Capsicle was an accurate description of what was happening right then – and, with a nod to Storm, floated herself, the block of ice, and Dr. McCoy up through the opening and into the open air above. They would secure him in the back of the Blackbird’s hangar/loading ramp.

Bucky walked toward Clark, his arms full of two familiar items that the man was currently looking over with emotion visible on his face. The Captain’s shield was strapped to his left arm, and he held the recently freed blue helmet and mask between his hands as he gazed at the small piece of history.

“I can barely believe we found him. I guess I never really thought we’d be able to do it, ya know? The past few days, I’ve been on edge; sorry if I snapped at you, by the way, but all I could think about was finding Stevie so we could take him home. A small part of me just thought it would never happen, that too many years had passed." Buck looked up at the end of his sentence, both grief and relief apparent on his face, as the ordeal finally looked to be at an end.

Clark could only smile at his friend and give him a nod of understanding. “I don’t blame you. Talk about a needle in a haystack. I’ll bet Lana told you to keep at it, though, am I right? She was always the last of us to give up on anything.”

Barnes scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, little Miss Sunshine said everything would work out just as we hoped. She’s gonna be insufferable now that she knows she was right-”

“Hey! I heard that, mister! Insufferable isn’t the word I would use to describe me at this moment,” Lana barked at the two men. Clark grimaced at the tone of voice she was using. He hadn’t heard it in quite a while, but he knew the trouble that Barnes was in now and wanted no part of it.

“Okay. Good luck, Bucky. You’re on your own here.” Clark took the opportunity to head toward the opening, giving Kelex a nod. Now was as good a time as any as the rest of the X-men began to pack up their gear.

Clark hopped up through the hole in the plane's roof and landed lightly on the ice. He jogged casually toward the back of the Blackbird nearby, the interior visible even though the jet itself was still cloaked – satellite coverage in a world with SHIELD was total and all-encompassing – where he could see Jean and Hank putting the last touches on strapping down their icy cargo. The back of the jet could be left depressurized and unheated for the trip home to reduce the amount of ice lost to melting.

Clark entered the ramp at the back, smiled at the pretty redhead heading back toward the crash site to help gather the others to leave, and stopped beside Dr. Fuzzball. He waited to ensure Jean was well out of earshot before speaking.

“You ready for us to get the answer to the big question of the day?” Clark raised his brows as he looked at Hank, who nodded and grinned toothily. “Okay. Kelex, go ahead with your deep scan.”

The little bot blasted a series of strobing lights and whirring sounds as she covered every inch of the frozen cargo in front of them with her sophisticated sensors. After about a minute, everything fell silent and dark in the hold of the Blackbird. She turned her eyes to Clark and the Doctor, and her melodious voice broke the short silence.

“It is as we suspected. All cellular activity is arrested in Captain Rogers's body, but there is a palpable lack of damage throughout his person. I believe he suffered some injury in the crash, though far less than one might suspect, but other than that, I cannot detect any indications that he is non-viable. I predict a 98% probability that his body functions will activate once his core temperature reaches the minimum threshold for human survival. He should wake up within 24 hours of his cellular resuscitation. I do not believe anything will be needed further than ‘thawing him out.’”

Hank and Clark took that in, briefly glancing at each other. Hank spoke first. “Do you believe it is best to give that summation to the good Sergeant now or wait until we return to the school?”

Clark remained quiet for a bit longer as he thought everything over. A 98% probability was an excellent chance, but it wasn’t a certainty. On the other hand, almost everything in Clark’s experience, memories, and gut told him that Steve Rogers was meant to be here at this time and place. He would wake up. It would probably be best to let Buck get his hopes up so they could plan how to approach the Captain once he woke up.

He’s waited long enough. Best to tell him and plan.

“I say we tell him. It will give him time to come to terms with it and let us discuss the steps we should take once we return to New York. It never hurts to plan things out. Kelex, you stay here and help Doc monitor everything. I’ll go back and help round everyone and everything up. We will meet them all here and give everyone the news together.”

Clark marched out of the Blackbird and back toward the Valkyrie. He could help pack up and then finish the final task.

________________________________________

It didn't take them long to clean up. One of the advantages of leading a recovery effort full of people with extraordinary abilities was that you didn’t need much in the way of extraneous supplies and equipment that professionals depended on.

It had taken less than an hour to collect everything they’d brought with them and allow Kelex to run a deep DNA scan of the entire craft. They didn’t want anyone (*cough* SHIELD *cough*) finding a trace of any of them at the crash site when it was finally discovered at some point soon.

The only thing that added time to their admittedly short day was a brief discussion about what to do about the lone bomber that was still active in the hangar. As it was still leaking trace amounts of Infinity energy, it was dangerous to leave it sitting unprotected in the environment like it was. There was also the issue of letting a potential weapon of mass destruction – even one six decades old – fall into a random set of hands.

After coming to a collective decision, Clark, with a bit of help from Jean, lifted the bomber out of the wreckage of the Valkyrie and stowed it safely in the back of the Bluebird. It was a tight fit, but there was just enough room to tuck it inside and close the back hatch.

After Clark snapped off the propellers, at least.

Kelex determined that the interior shielding of the Quinjet should mask the energy signature so they wouldn’t likely be tracked while in transit. Hank and Forge wanted to study the bomb and its energy residue back at the school. Clark thought that taking what might as well have been a nuclear bomb back to a school full of children was insane, but both of them insisted that they could dismantle the explosive components of the vehicle easily back in their workshop. So, Clark acquiesced.

Clark refused to allow anyone else to travel in the Bluebird with the flying bomb on board, though. He said they would just have to cram into the Blackbird for the three-hour ride home. They would push the jets to their speed limits on the way back to minimize the risks of both detection or an 'act of God accident,' as Clark put it.

Now, they were all gathered in the hangar of the Blackbird, having just finished loading the last of their supplies. Rogers’ frozen body sat silently nearby as Clark spoke.

“Before we head out, I wanted to share a bit of information that Kelex, Dr. McCoy, and I believe you should know. Buck, you – and Logan, too, I suppose – should hear this especially. Kelex did a deep scan of the Captain’s body when we loaded it into the Blackbird a little while ago. She was able to determine that there was, more or less, no damage or injuries that he suffered during the crash back in ‘45.”

Bucky looked on with intense interest. Logan stopped in the middle of lighting his cigar. The other X-men listened silently, though their own eyes betrayed their curiosity.

“We think that barring some unforeseen catastrophe, it is highly likely-”

“A more than 98% probability,” Kelex interjected.

Clark rolled his eyes and continued as if the droid hadn’t interrupted. “-once we thaw him out, it is possible, or probable, that we will find Captain Rogers is alive.”

Lana gasped and grabbed Bucky’s good arm as she stood beside him. Several pairs of eyebrows climbed toward the heavens, and Logan grunted an acknowledgment from a seat along the wall. But Bucky only stared out in disbelief at the news, his eyes almost glazed over in shock.

“It’s like when Hydra would put you on ice for years between missions as the Winter Soldier, Bucky. We think the serum in his blood has protected him from the damage that a normal human would suffer when their body is subjected to the freezing temperatures that Steve has been resting in all this time. We think that, once we get him back and out of this block of ice, his body will start to wake itself up after it warms up.”

Clark looked around the group, meeting their eyes in succession before finally ending with Barnes' suddenly focused gaze.

“Kelex thinks he will wake up, all on his own, within 24 hours of his body restarting. The question we need to ask is, what do we do when he does?”