Chapter 10
Singing along’s spurred on by Tina Turner & Ike’s Workin’ together – which, honestly, no one could possibly fault them for. While dancing’s (inevitably) triggered by David Bowie’s Under Pressure. (Turns out dancing with someone whose moves date back to the forties is the perfect antidote to feeling self conscious.) They’re not often in the mood for Major Lazer, while Ludovico Einaudi is always a sure hit. They settle on granting Drake a second – then third – chance, fall under New Order’s spell and agree to disagree when it comes to Kendrick Lamar. She discovers Kid Cudi and Chvrches. The Drums and Beyoncé, meanwhile, are a revelation for Cap. They put Stromae on when the mood to hop around strikes, Rihanna or Madonna when they feel like a silly lip sync and The National when he returns contemplative from his group sessions in the city.
Their pile of take-away menus continues to grow, only a question of time now before it spills all over the kitchen counter. Something needs to be done, but Natasha wants the cuisines to be ordered alphabetically, while Cap wants to rank them by preference, so she gives up.
And without noticing it, months morph into a year.
Then Scott Lang – whom they had all assumed among the vanished – comes rambling in, with a little cart of bits and pieces in tow, making little to no sense. And everything shifts once again.
Navigating the quantum realm.
It’s… She shouldn’t entertain the idea. It’s insane, is what it is, there’s no better word for it.
And yet. What if there was a way? What if it could be done? After all, if the Time Bureau and the Waverider exist, if Barry Allen’s able to use the SpeedForce, would finding a way to use the quantum realm to travel through time really be that outlandish?
And then what?
Over Ethiopian take-away, they narrow it down to: first, testing Scott’s theory, then finding a way to bring all the disappeared back, in a similar move to Thanos’ snap.
If this were to work…
Granted, there’re a lot of assumptions, a lot of hypotheticals. But something lodges itself in her chest. Something unsettling, something suspiciously like hope.
Natasha wants her to join the delegation to Tony Stark’s. Scott Lang’s hyped up chatter, as he tries to catch up on the years he’s lost, makes the ride to the Eco-Compound feel longer than it actually is. She’s too lost in the possibilities to find it grating, though. If they weren’t all so tense, she’d probably find it endearing.
To say that Tony Stark isn’t particularly pleased to see them is an understatement and it doesn’t get better from there. He refuses to help. And the truth is, looking at the life he’s got: a beautiful wife, the cutest daughter, a lakeside cabin framed in nature, she can’t blame him. She gets it. They all do. But does he have to be such an arrogant jerk about it?
Admittedly, Scott Lang’s “Time Heist” is not the most inspired name. Still. They all take turns pleading with him to consider it, even Natasha. (Leading Alex to wonder once more exactly how personal this is to her.) Tony Stark doesn’t just rebuff them: he calls the idea laughable, a pipe dream. She may disagree with the tone, it doesn’t change the fact that his comments are a monumental blow. Yet, he also contradicts himself in the same breath, for he raises the risk of making things even worse the second time around, were they to get a shot at fixing things. (A relevant point, of course, which would deserve some serious mulling over. Except from where she‘s standing, Alex has a hard time imagining what “worse” would even look like.)
It leaves them confused and disheartened. Needless to say: they don’t stay for lunch.
They go running to Bruce Banner. She can’t stop herself from staring at this giant hulk-presenting version of him, with whom it’s now apparently possible to have a long and civilised conversation. (By the looks of it, she’s not the only one.) Over a surreal brunch at a diner, in-between signing autographs and gobbling down the grossest amount of greasy food she’s ever seen (no she won’t think of Kara, she won’t), they manage to convince him.
“The whole time travel do over? Uh… guys, this is outside of my area of expertise.”
“Well, you pulled this off” Natasha reminds him, pointing out his appearance. “I remember a time when that seemed pretty impossible too…”
There’s something there in Natasha’s tone, in the way she’s got his entire undivided attention. Something she can’t quite put her finger on. An undercurrent. Or maybe she’s imagining things. She’ll have to ask her. (Or not, if she values her life.)
Still, the point stands: they need someone more well-versed in quantum physics.
It clicks. She can’t believe she didn’t think of this sooner. Cap‘s right: they need the brightest of the brightest.
She stands up, throws some cash on the table, signalling for them to wrap it up.
“I might know someone else who could help.”