FIC: Shadow in the Stream 2/3

[azul_bleu]

Title: Shadow in the Stream | or @ AO3 here
Rating: T for language
Pairing: Gen this part, eventual Steve/Tony
Summary: Caught in the grips of spectacular hangovers, the Avengers wish Tony wasn't around to enable them, and a power decides to grant them their wish: a world without Tony Stark. How do you change reality back to normal without your resident genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, anyway?

So yeah, this is going to be longer than I anticipated. 3 parts instead of two. Whoops?



Steve hadn’t been around Coulson very much before he died, but Tony had apparently made Coulson-baiting into some kind of extreme sport. Natasha had said once, when they were all sitting on the balcony watching the sunset over the city they’d saved, that she had never seen Coulson so close to killing someone out of anger as he was to throttling Tony.

He couldn’t say for sure, but Steve thought that Thor had managed to come pretty close to topping that list.

“Mr Odinsson, as edifying as this story is-”

“Please, Son of Coul! We around this hallowed table should have bonds close enough to call each other by terms more familiar than that. Call me Thor.”

Coulson’s eye twitched. It had been doing that a lot in the tail end of the past five hours since Thor had begun talking. Steve felt bad for about a second, before Clint’s stricken face came to mind. Then he just refixed his bland ‘well, golly’ expression. Coulson had stopped sending him dark looks after a few of Steve’s blinding USO smiles.

“Thor, I really think that we should turn the conversation to relations between Earth and Asgard.”

Thor nodded, looking chagrined. “You are indeed wise. I see why it is that the Fury entrusts such negotiations to you. I have been remiss.”

Coulson’s shoulders relaxed slightly, the equivalent of a full body slump in anyone else. “Not at all. But if you would run over the governmental system-”

“Steve! I have been most unfair to dominate our negotiations thus. It is your turn to tell us tales of your valour, that we may share our strengths and our weaknesses. Perhaps you would honour us with a recounting of your transformation, as I have heard from others that it is a tale of sacrifice and a victory that came bittersweet.”

Coulson’s eye twitched again. Steve grinned, a touch too wide. “Gosh, Thor, if you insist.”

“I do. Most effusively.”

“Well okay, then. I was a skinny fellow growing up, you know, and my friend Bucky was going off to join the war…”

---

When Steve returned to the apartment that night. It was to see Clint lying on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, his bow and quiver on the floor.

“Boots off the furniture, Clint, honestly,” Steve huffed, shrugging out of his leather jacket and making for the fridge. “And don’t even think about using the ‘I was raised in a circus’ excuse again. You were in the army, for heaven’s sake, and I know that they can’t have changed so much that they’d let you keep a bunk the way you keep our Tower.”

Clint just grinned. “You are a man of many talents, Cap. I’m ashamed to say I underestimated you.’

“Oh?” Steve asked, rummaging for the orange juice he’d seen that morning, hoping Clint hadn’t polished it off yet.

“I thought the only person who could get that vein throbbing in Phil’s temple was Stark, but you and Thor made a hell of a go of it. After you left he spent fifteen minutes yelling at Hill. He never yells at Hill. No one yells at Hill.”

Steve ignored the question of how Clint had stayed at SHIELD after he left and still reached the apartment first. With both Clint and Natasha, he had learned that it was best not to question how things were achieved, just to appreciate the results. Steve called it delegating and having faith in his team. Tony called it ensuring plausible deniability.

“I don’t know what you mean, Clint. We just told stories.”

Clint lifted his eyebrows. “And you can bullshit with the best. How could I not know this, with Stark around? You could even give him a run for his money.”

Steve hid his smile with a sip of juice, straight from the carton. “That’s a bald faced lie if I ever heard one.”

Clint smiled, wide and proud. “I don’t know, Steve, you managed to spin that anecdote about the USO girls for forty minutes. When I heard you tell it, took three, five tops. That’s impressive.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I think half of that was Thor interrupting, asking me about their ‘comely forms’. How do you know about that, anyway? Didn’t you have an assignment?”

Clint huffed. “I am an experienced spy, Cap. I can do more than one thing at once.” Steve just looked at him and he sighed. “There wasn’t much to find, to be honest. I pulled all our files, but the only interesting thing in them is Nat’s clearance, which is way lower than it should be. That and Bruce’s framing, which we knew.”

Steve nodded, leaning forward to rest his head on his hands on the bench-top. “Alright. So. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours until Bruce and Widow are here, then we grab Thor and head to Asgard. Anything you think we’ve missed?”

There was a pause, and Steve looked up. “What?”

Clint bit his lip. “Nothing.”

“Clint. What is it?”

Clint dropped his gaze and started fidgeting with the hem of his tee shirt. “Just… I think we should bring him with us.”

Steve blinked. “Who?”

“Phil.”

Oh. Oh. “Clint, we can’t-”

“No, hear me out,” he said, sitting up and facing Steve. “This universe only exists because we fucked up, right? So when we go back it’ll revert? If we bring this Phil with us, he’ll be my Phil when we get back.”

His face was serious and earnest and open and heartbreakingly hopeful. “Clint… what if he isn’t?”

Clint’s voice trembled just the slightest fraction when he replied, “It’d be better than no Phil at all.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but Clint cut him off.

“Steve, please. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel. I was here last night, remember? Imagine if Tony was dead for real, in the real world, and then he was back, but different. Wouldn’t you try to keep him? Do anything to keep him?”

Steve flushed, looked down at the worn Formica of the bench and traced his fingers along its pits and dents. “We’re not - Tony and I aren’t like you and Coulson were, Clint.”

Clint scoffed. “Oh, and all those ‘late night walks’ were just that, right?” Steve stared back blankly and Clint’s jaw dropped. “Oh… oh my god. They were. Jesus. He never jumped you?” Steve flushed and shook his head. Clint whistled, eyes wide with wonder. “So when you guys said you were just hanging out - wow. I didn’t think Stark had it in him. I was surprised he was keeping quiet about banging Captain America, but this is…”

“Why do you only ever call him Stark, anyway?” Steve asked, his face burning now.

Clint glared. “Don’t derail me. It doesn’t matter you weren’t together, you’d still do everything I would. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me if you could get him back right now, you wouldn’t do whatever you had to do to keep him.”

“Clint, it’s not that simple.”

Clint crossed his arms. “It’s not that complicated, either.”

Maybe to Clint it wasn’t, but to Steve… the things he felt about Tony was a broiling mess of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Things that he felt guilty about even contemplating, for so many reasons. Most of the time he managed to keep himself fooled into believing that Tony was just his best friend, his team-mate, but then Tony would look at him, eyes dark and laughing, and all the air would go out of the room. He hadn’t felt like that since those last moments with Peggy, adrenaline pumping and the ocean rushing up towards him, terrified and sad and so sure he was right.

Sometimes he wondered if he was disgracing her memory by the idea of maybe feeling something for Tony.

He couldn’t possibly say that to Clint, so he sidestepped the question.

“Alright. Let’s say we take this Coulson with us. Best case scenario he turns into the Coulson we remember. Worst case, he hates us for taking him away from his world. Or he just disappears when the world goes back to normal.”

Clint held his gaze. “I’m fine with those odds.”

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s shelve this until everyone’s here, alright? Bruce knows more about this than we do. Let’s get all the intel we can before we make a decision.”

Clint sighed and sat up at last, his boots hitting the carpet with a thud as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Fine, Cap,” he said, and his voice was thick and low, “but just so you know, I’ve decided. If he doesn’t come with us, I’ll stay, too.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What? But… this universe will be gone, Clint. You’ll be-”

“I know,” Clint interrupted.

“I thought you said this was worse,” Steve argued. “The other night, you said it’s harder here, where he doesn’t-doesn’t love you anymore.”

Clint rubbed a hand over his face. “It is. But it’s like… I can’t explain it. It’s hurts, but it’s good. At home, it’s just a dull ache, all the time, but here, it burns. It’s like I can breathe again, with him here, alive. I would suffocate if I left him here.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little drastic?” Steve asked, desperate.

“Steve, I can’t go back to a world without him,” Clint replied, his voice terribly soft.

“You’d rather die?” Steve asked, his voice cracking.

Clint grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No one ever said I wasn’t melodramatic. I was raised in the circus, you know.”

Steve had opened his mouth to reply when his phone blared.

“Rogers,” Steve barked, thumbing the speakerphone.

“Steven, I believe that there is a problem,” Thor said, very quietly.

Of course there was. This was Steve’s life, after all. Steve shut his eyes tightly. “What is it?”

“I do not wish to alarm you, but I overheard the one you call Hill and another agent unknown to me discussing the capture of our shield brethren, Bruce Banner and the Black Widow.”

Steve caught his breath. Of all eventualities, that was the furthest from his mind. “Are they there? At SHIELD?”

“No, they were apprehended in a row of heath.” Thor sounded puzzled, and so was Steve.

“Shit, you mean Heathrow?” Clint asked, jumping up from the couch.

“Indeed, Hawkeye. Does this mean something to you?”

“It’s the airport in London. Fuck,” Clint muttered, pacing up and down.

“This is very serious news,” Thor said, and Steve resisted the urge to snap at him for stating the obvious. “We must liberate them post-haste.”

“We don’t have a quinjet anymore. How fast can we get to London, Clint?” Steve asked.

Clint looked pained. “Not fast enough. The council will have them, they’ll be out of the UK into any of a hundred detention facilities within the day.”

Thor coughed delicately. “With the aide of Mjolnir I may be at their side in a matter of hours.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know where their side is.”

“Then I have another suggestion,” Thor said, but he sounded hesitant.

“If the next words out of your mouth in any way include ‘my brother Loki’ I will kick your godly ass,” Clint growled.

“No, I am not quite so foolish as that. Heimdall, the gatekeeper to the Bifrost, has the gift of sight. If we return to Asgard, he may be able to both locate our fallen comrades and deliver us unto them.”

Steve frowned. “May?”

“There are some few things that are shielded from the gaze of Heimdall. If they are under the thrall of powerful magic, they will be undetectable.”

Steve and Clint shared a look, and Clint shrugged. “Get him to bring Phil and I’m good to go.”

Steve frowned. “Clint-”

“I’m not leaving here without him, Steve.”

“What is that?” Thor asked.

“We’ll do it,” Steve said, not dropping Clint’s gaze. “Find Coulson, Thor, and bring him with you. We’ll meet you outside SHIELD.”

“Very well, Captain. Until then.”

Steve stalked to get his costume from the bathroom where it had been drying. Really, he didn’t mean to be a whiner, but did nothing about this plan want to go right? They’d lost Tony, no, they’d gotten rid of Tony, and every step of trying to get him back seemed to end up in one screw up after another.

Steve resisted the urge to put his fist through his shower wall.

He didn’t blame Clint; how could he? Coulson, alive and healthy, wasn’t something he would ever begrudge Clint wanting to hang onto. Jeopardising the mission for it? That he felt he could be a little ticked off about.

He didn’t know how Natasha and Bruce had been caught. There wasn’t anyone as good as Black Widow when it came to subterfuge, to sneaking and not being seen.

A sudden terrifying visual of Bruce hulking out on an airplane sprung to his mind and he stumbled in the act of pulling on his uniform pants.

“Clint, check the web for any mentions of the Hulk,” he bellowed, hopping around the tiny bathroom and tugging ineffectually. He couldn’t wait to get his real uniform back.

“No sign of Bruce’s ‘roid raging inner leprechaun,” Clint called back just as Steve managed to tug on his cowl.

“Good. Are you ready to go?” he asked, jogging into the living room.

Clint smirked. “Let’s roll, Cap.”

Hawkeye’s balance was almost as perfect as Steve’s, and they made the trip to SHIELD at breakneck pace. They weren’t coming back here, whichever way things went, and Steve abandoned any semblance of stealth as he popped the Harley up on sidewalks, easily avoiding astonished and furious pedestrians, ran red lights and in general drove like a complete maniac.

When he finally squealed to a halt outside SHIELD, Clint peeled himself away from Steve’s shield. “You know, if you weren’t all super-soldiered up, I’d have thought you were going to kill us.”

Steve cocked his head, offered Clint the same ‘golly, I don’t know what you mean’ expression he’d been giving Coulson all day, and said, “I thought you liked living dangerously, Hawkeye.”

Clint rolled his eyes as he opened the bike’s panniers and started unloading his gear. “Jesus, you and Tony need to never get in on a prank together.”

Steve’s gut kicked. “Let’s just get him back before you lay down the law.”

“Yes, sir.” Clint nodded, flicked open his bow to check it over with a fluid movement before refolding it and stowing it on his back with the quiver. “How long till we’re out of dodge?”

Steve checked his phone. “Thor should be out with Coulson in a few minutes.”

“Great, I’m gonna take a leak.”

Steve scowled. “Clint.”

“Relax, I’ll stay on comms. Besides, what if they don’t have them in Asgard? Think ahead, Cap.”

“Fine. Hurry.”

Clint rolled his eyes and jogged inside.

Steve fidgeted. Having Clint and Thor out of his sight made him tense, however irrational it was. He found himself staring at the few pedestrians out on the street, assessing their threat levels subconsciously.

Then a red-headed woman stepped away from the sidewalk, holding her hand out to flag a cab.

Steve froze, watching Pepper yell at a taxi that blew past her without stopping. She looked just as put together as she did at home, her hair perfectly done, stylish pantsuit and an understated briefcase. He could see the shadows under her eyes, though, and the nervous tap of her fingers on the briefcase handle. She looked thinner, too, and she had been so tiny to begin with.

Steve didn’t quite know how to feel. He liked Pepper. She’d been the one to take him to be outfitted for his civilian life, after the battle with the Chitauri and the ensuing chaos that had been the negotiation of Loki’s status. She’d taken him to Macy’s, and with an efficiency and ruthlessness that awed him, had orchestrated the next few blurry hours. When he left, he had been exhausted and overwhelmed, but with a carload of clothing that he liked and wasn’t, apparently, something that her grandfather would wear.

When he’d asked her why she had helped him, she’d smiled and tilted her head, like she found his question adorable and a little confusing. “Because you needed it.”

They’d become friends after that. Sometimes, when Tony was elbow deep in the guts of some machine and Steve wasn’t busy trying to punch away the grief of losing everything, they’d talked. About art, about politics, anything. She had never made him feel stupid or embarrassed for not understanding something, or not knowing, and he had been grateful. They both loved red wine, and the Impressionists, and baroque music.

A taxi pulled up and Pepper slid in, and just like that she was gone. Steve couldn’t stop staring at the place she’d been, his mind whirling.

They’d talked about Tony, too, sometimes. In the beginning, Steve had shared his frustrations with her, and she’d been understanding, correcting him when he was wrong about Tony and sympathising when he wasn’t. Soon, Steve stopped needing her advice, as Tony became his best friend since Bucky, more quickly than Steve would have dreamed possible. Soon, Tony was absent from their discussions entirely, and Steve wondered now if he shouldn’t have guessed then. Should have asked her what was happening, tried to help them.

Because soon after that, four months after the Chitauri invasion, she’d left Tony.

Tony had taken it badly, to say the least, but he had barely talked about it. Instead, he disappeared into a bottle or his workshop, sometimes both at once. The closest Steve could get to a straight answer about what had happened, why it had happened, were the drunken rants Tony went on when Steve picked him up from his favourite dive bar.

Pepper had stopped coming by the Tower for a long time, and returned all his messages with polite but distant responses. The few times Steve had seen her since, it had been as Captain America and Ms Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. Steve and Pepper had barely spent ten minutes in each other’s company in months.

He couldn’t begrudge her or Tony the distance they both needed, but it had hurt, that she had avoided him so completely. Part of him had been happy to have Tony’s attention all to himself, but that part he squashed ruthlessly. Another part of him was furious at her, for being the reason he had to all but pour Tony into bed so many times.

His shame redoubled at that thought. Pepper might have ended her and Tony’s romantic relationship, but she was still his closest friend, and she shepherded Tony’s company with all the care and devotion that someone else might lavish on a child. Tony and she had begun to slowly relearn how to be in each other’s company, and Tony had only last week cracked a joke about setting her up with Happy. A real joke, too, not a brittle, thinly veiled self directed insult. No matter what had happened between them, she had never let Tony down.

Not like Steve had.

How could Steve be angry at her, when it was him who had landed them all here? Him and his team, ungrateful and spiteful to a man, except Tony, who wouldn’t know how to leave a man behind if he tried. Unless it was him, of course.

Steve swore then and there that Tony would never find out how they’d changed the world. If he had to lie through his teeth to SHIELD, blackmail or threaten or cajole his team, beg the Asgardians… no matter what, he’d keep it a secret. He kept seeing Tony’s face in his mind, at that instant when they’d turned on him, and that was an expression he wanted to never, ever see it again.

“Whoa, Cap, you look like someone just shot your puppy.”

Steve blinked and shook himself.

Clint eyed him worriedly. “Everything okay, Cap?”

“Yes, fine. I just - I’m fine.”

Clint looked like he was about to argue, but Thor’s booming voice interrupted them, even from inside the SHIELD building.

“No, indeed, Son of Coul. It is a longstanding tradition among my people that a bargain be settled ‘neath the stars!”

Clint shook his head. “Seriously, you and him? Bullshit masters. I’m a little scared, to be honest.”

Steve didn’t reply, just watched the doorway. Soon enough, Thor strode through it, towing an exasperated looking Coulson. Steve whistled, and Thor spun on his heel to walk towards them.

Coulson frowned. “Captain? Hawkeye? What are you two doing here?” His eyes narrowed. “How do you even know each other?”

Everyone ignored him. Thor kept an iron grip on Coulson’s arm when he started to pull away.

“Everything is in readiness?” Thor asked in an undertone.

Steve nodded. “We’re ready. How do we do this?”

“Captain Rogers, explain yourself now,” Coulson snapped.

“It is a simple process. Just ready yourself, as best you can,” Thor said, raising Mjolnir in his free hand. “Heimdall! Open the Bifrost for myself and these three mortals. We return to Asgard!”

“Agent Barton, Captain Rogers, this is an act of sedition against SHIELD, against your country, against your planet. What the hell are you doing?” Coulson asked, struggling properly now. Thor didn’t budge.

Clint looked away, his jaw working, and Steve smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sir. You’re not collateral, we promise.”

Coulson’s lips thinned. “Oh, how reassuring.”

Steve was about to respond when something roared open above them and the world faded out into colour.

The Bifrost wrapped around them in a whirl of light and deafening sound, and Steve felt like he was falling into a void and plummeting upwards towards infinity all at once.

“Is this punishment for the time I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

Steve clenched his eyes shut and tried to fight away nausea and soul-deep pain as Bucky’s screaming face fell away from him again and again in his mind’s eye.

He couldn’t have said how long the trip lasted. An age, an instant, both and neither, and suddenly he was standing on his feet inside a golden dome. An enormous man in gleaming armour glared down at them, his eyes like glowing coal embers beneath his wide horned helm. Steve settled into a defensive stance instinctively. He was enormous, larger even than Thor, and Steve didn’t like the idea of taking him on.

“Heimdall!” Thor boomed, striding forward to clap the man’s shoulder. “Well met, my old friend. Let me introduce my companions! This is Steven Rogers, the Captain of America.”

Steve forced himself to relax and nodded, trying not to tense again when Heimdall looked at him with his burning, infinite red eyes. “Sir. Thanks for the ride.”

Heimdall inclined his head graciously. “My prince commands and I obey.” His voice was deep and ancient, like the voice of primeval bedrock, and Steve could feel it echoing in his bones.

Thor grinned like this was a joke. “This is Clint, he of the hawk’s eyes, and Phil, Son of Coul.”

Heimdall slid his depthless gaze off Steve towards the others. Coulson looked tense enough to fairly explode out of his skin, and Clint kept glancing at him worriedly.

“I bid you welcome to Asgard,” Heimdall said. “But you are not here to stay, I think.”

Thor’s expression sobered. “Indeed. Our shield brethren have been captured, and we know not where they are being held. Your sight is without equal, Heimdall. Will you help us?”

“As you say,” Heidall replied, “I shall aid you.”

Thor looked to Steve then, and Steve coughed awkwardly. “Heimdall, sir, can you see them?”

Heimdall blinked, a slow and deliberate movement. “The ones you call Natasha Romanov and Bruce Banner are underground, beneath London.”

Clint swore. “The SHIELD detention facility. That place is a goddamn fortress.”

Steve frowned. “Can you put us inside, Heimdall?”

Heimdall shook his head slowly, the helm’s horns sweeping the air. “The Bifrost cannot deliver you to them below the surface. You must free them from the outside.”

Steve opened his mouth to thank him when Coulson strode forward.

“Alright, I have been patient, but someone better explain to me right this second what Bruce Banner and Agent Romanov have to do with-”

“The Avengers Initiative, Phil,” Clint said quietly. “Do you know what that is?”

Phil’s head turned so fast Steve thought he would pull something. “How the hell did you hear that term, Barton?”

“You’ve heard of it?” Steve asked. As he understood it, their Coulson had created the Initiative as a response to Iron Man. The bitter, angry Coulson standing in front of them didn’t seem like a man to believe in heroes. Certainly not enough to bet the world’s safety on a team of too-large egos and not enough discipline, Iron Man or no.

Coulson glared at him. “I proposed it, when we pulled you out. Fury shut it down before we even got past preliminaries.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “But… you don’t like me.”

Coulson rolled his eyes. “I don’t have an opinion about you one way or the other, really, Captain. The threat-response capabilities of a team of uniquely powered individuals make it the logical tactical choice over individual deployment. Especially in response to the kinds of threats we’ve been seeing recently.” Coulson shifted his glare to Thor, and Steve wondered what he’d say if he knew about the Chitauri invasion.

Clint looked like he was either going to cry or hit something, staring at Coulson’s back. Coulson chose that moment to whirl and glare at him. “Was it you, Agent Barton? Did you steal this information out of my office?”

Clint bristled, hurt shifting to indignation in the flash Steve had only ever seen in fights between couples or close friends, between people who knew where to aim to hurt. It gave him a jealous pang, absurdly. “Yeah, because that makes sense,” Clint drawled, crossing his arms.

Coulson’s jaw twitched. “You’ve been acting suspiciously for days now. Going AWOL, sneaking around headquarters, Agent Sitwell said he saw you crawling out of a vent, for god’s sake. Does this have anything to do with the other evening?”

Clint’s expression hardened instantly. “Sir, no sir. That would be unprofessional, right?”

“Don’t you throw that back at me right now, Barton,” Coulson growled. “You made your choice, years ago.”

Clint’s mouth clicked shut and his eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. Rejection I handled. This… this taunting is beyond cruel, even for you,” Coulson snapped.

“I… I thought you were married,” Clint blurted.

Coulson’s mouth thinned into a hard line, fists tightly clenched beside him. “I don’t know if you’ve suddenly changed your mind or got it into your head that I’ve been waiting around, because you know goddamn well I haven’t. But for you to make a dig about my divorce right now is just beyond the pale.”

Steve gaped, frozen to the spot. Clint had gone pale like he might be sick, Coulson looking like he was one comment away from decking him. Thor had a puzzled frown on his face and Heimdall had the same intent but abstract expression he had since they arrived.

Steve shook himself mentally. Bruce and Natasha were being held, and they were depending on what was left of their team to get them out.

“Coulson, stand down. Clint, you too. That’s an order, Avenger,” he barked, putting his Howling Commandoes voice to use. Clint glared at him but slunk over to the wall of the chamber, fiddling with his retracted bow.

Steve faced Coulson, trying to project authority. “Agent, you need to understand a few things. First, we’re not the people you remember. We’re from an… alternate dimension.” He thought that was what Bruce had called it. Coulson blinked. “We don’t remember anything about this place before three days ago.”

Coulson’s face had gone blank, so Steve continued. “Where we come from, we’re the Avengers. Me, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Banner, Thor and Iron Man.”

Coulson lifted an eyebrow. “Leaving aside the issue that no sane person would be on a team with the Hulk, who is Iron Man?”

Steve flinched. “Irrelevant; he’s out of play right now. We’re trying to get him back. But first, we need to free Natasha and Bruce.”

“Assuming I believe you, Captain,” Coulson replied, and his voice and expression telegraphed that he definitely didn’t, “If this gentlemen’s intelligence is correct, and they are in the London detention facility, extraction will be almost impossible. It’s the one place we have that is considered Hulk proof.”

Steve had thought it would be, and his mind raced ahead, thinking up and discarding plans and running scenarios with a speed of thought that the serum hadn’t needed to give him. “That’s why we need you to help us.”

Coulson coughed. “Now why would I do that?”

And here Steve knew he had to play his hand, call Coulson’s bluff, and pray desperately that the world couldn’t change enough for this to fail. “Because, sir, at the end of the day, you still believe in heroes.”

Clint spun around at that, and even Thor looked wary.

“Why did you design the Avengers Initiative?” Steve pressed, taking a step forward. “It can’t just be threat response. You have a host of highly trained agents designed to work cohesively in units of any size. So why propose a team? Why can you barely hide your disdain whenever you look at me? What makes you dislike Banner so much?”

Thor still looked puzzled, but out of the corner of his eye Steve could see Clint’s face go slack in understanding.

“Is it because we disappointed you?” Steve asked, taking another step. Coulson’s face was the careful bland mask that Steve remembered seeing him wear in the Helicarrier, but Steve thought he could see tension around his mouth.

“We’re superheroes. You grew up reading about people like us. You grew up reading about me. And when I woke up, something happened. I mean, I don’t remember it, and it wasn’t me. But the other Cap… the other Steve, he did something. Something that disappointed you badly, and Clint was a bastard to you, god alone knows where Natasha was, and here there was no Tony to convince Bruce that he could be a hero, so you were left with the ragged pieces of a dream and no one to sign your trading cards.”

Steve stopped, breathing a little hard. Coulson had gone ash white.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Steve asked, his voice gentle.

Coulson swallowed, but didn’t say anything. Steve went for the kill, plastering on his most sincere expression, the one Tony called his Boy Scout face.

“I’m telling you now, Coulson… Phil… you were right. Where we come from, the Avengers are Earth’s mightiest heroes, and we saved the world. And we did it because of you.”

Coulson turned away, but Steve followed him, reaching out to grab his shoulder and spinning him back to look up at Steve’s face.

“Phil. Help us save our team mates, and then help us save the world, and come back with us, to where everyone believes in heroes.”

Steve held his breath, praying that it would work, that he’d been right, that he’d read the whole situation accurately, and then Coulson nodded, just once, sharply.

“Okay, Captain. I’ll believe you, for now. You better hope you’re right, because if this goes badly and SHIELD catches up with us, you’re going to wish they’d left you frozen in the ocean.”

Steve smiled wanly and nodded, knees weak with relief. He honestly hadn’t had a workable plan if Coulson had said no, and Bruce and Natasha were depending on them.

Not to mention Tony.

Thor walked forward, as close to hesitant as Steve had ever seen him. “Son of Coul, I am glad to see you alive once more,” he said, offering Coulson his hand. Steve winced, but Coulson just gave him a dark look.

“I take it that this world saving that you mentioned happened after my alternate self died?” he remarked lightly, grasping Thor’s hand.

Steve ducked his head. “You gave us something to avenge.”

Coulson looked thoughtful at that. “Well. I guess I must have meant something to you, for that to work.” He seemed to realise something then, and turned to look at Clint, who was intently examining the gold dome.

“Hawkeye,” he began, but Steve touched his shoulder. They didn’t have time.

“Coulson, do you have clearance for the London detention center?”

Coulson raised an eyebrow, his sarcastic expression a flash of the man Steve had known so briefly. “Of course. I have clearance for everywhere.”

Steve nodded. “So you can check them out, right?”

Coulson’s eyes narrowed. “Theoretically.”

“We just need to get them to the surface for the Bifrost to work, right, Thor?” Steve asked.

“Indeed, Steven,” Thor replied.

Clint broke off his study of the dome and stalked over. “How the hell are you going to convince SHIELD that a Ren Faire escapee, Captain Anachronism, me, and Phil are enough to contain not only Black Widow but the goddamn Hulk?”

Coulson smiled thinly. “Never underestimate the willingness of others to believe the impossible, Barton. Especially from a superior officer.”

Clint looked sceptical.

“Look, all we have to do is get them past the Hulk-proof floors,” Steve said, looking to Coulson for confirmation, who nodded. “Then we can fight our way out, if we need to.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “That’s your plan, master tactician? Fight out of a friendly base?”

Steve felt the tension that had been riding him for days just snap, and he all but greyed-out with rage and frustration and grief and shame.

“I don’t know, alright! All I know is that this is the second time I’ve woken up somewhere I don’t understand, and I hate this, and I hate that I made it happen, that we all made it happen. I miss Natasha, I miss Bruce, and I - god - I miss Tony. He’s dead and it’s my fault and I know you know what that’s like. All I can think of is Tony’s face if he were to find out what I did and I feel like I can’t breathe because I can’t imagine how I would have survived without him this past year and all I want is to tell him that.”

He pulled himself up, panting, his hands flexing so hard on his shield that his knuckles ached. Thor drew close and placed a heavy palm on Steve’s shoulder.

“Fear not, Steven. We will get our brother of iron back.”

Coulson was eyeing them all in turn, Clint speculatively, Thor warily and Steve with outright curiosity, but Clint avoided his gaze. “Sorry, Cap,” he said, fiddling with his bow. “You’re right. We need to fix this. Let’s go get Tasha and Bruce.”

Steve drew in a shuddering breath. “Any suggestions, sir?” he asked Coulson, who shrugged.

“To be honest, your plan should work fine.”

Steve squared his shoulders and pulled his cowl over his head. “All right, Avengers. Assemble.”

Thor nodded at Heimdall, and the world faded out into the chaotic whirl of the Bifrost again.

They landed with the same gut-churning suddenness, and Steve looked around. They were standing on a footpath outside another nondescript office building like the SHIELD headquarters in Brooklyn. The sky was tinted gold in the east, the light grey with the chill of early morning.

Thor brandished Mjolnir defensively and Clint flicked out his bow to its full size. Coulson just calmly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an ID.

“Put those down, please, and follow me,” he said, already striding for the door.

Coulson’s ID turned every lock green, and the night shift snapped to attention whenever they saw him, their bored and sleepy expressions vanishing.

Finally they reached the elevator for the underground detention facility, and Coulson gave them a warning look. “Just follow my lead,” he muttered as they piled in. With Steve and Thor it was a squeeze, and the back of Clint’s neck reddened when he had to press up against Coulson.

Coulson’s earlier loss of control seemed a thing of the past, the cool professionalism back in place. They all stepped out of the elevator and into a grey, utterly featureless room, a pair of guards in SHIELD uniforms behind a desk opposite the elevator.

“Agent Coulson,” one said, nodding respectfully.

“Agent Koffman.” Coulson nodded back and handed over his ID. “Prisoner transfer, Banner and Romanoff. Fury sent me to deal with it personally.”

Koffman’s eyebrows shot up as his partner scanned Coulson’s ID and started tapping away at his keyboard. “Really? Thought the transfer team would be… bigger.”

Coulson smiled. “These men have special skills,” he replied smoothly. “Trust me, we can handle Banner and the Widow.”

Koffman nodded. “Yes, sir.”

His partner looked up from the computer. “Retrieving the prisoners now, sir. ETA five minutes.”

Coulson smiled. “Thank you, Agent Harkness.”

The next five minutes were some of the most nerve-wracking of Steve’s life, waiting on tenterhooks for Bruce and Natasha. When a door finally opened at the side of the room and a dishevelled Bruce shuffled through, Steve felt relief and horror flood through him.

Bruce was bound, hand and foot, with enormous cuffs that Steve guessed were supposed to contain him even if he were to transform into his less-friendly alter ego. One guard held a gun trained on his head, another held the chain linking his cuffs, and yet another held a metal pole aloft, the end attached to a wire snare around Bruce’s neck.

Bruce met Steve’s gaze and Steve saw pure, miserable relief in his face.

Steve’s fists clenched and he heard his knuckles pop.

“Sign here,” Harkness said, and Coulson signed, looking supremely bored.

The four guards around Bruce looked like nothing would relieve them more than handing him over, but Steve couldn’t take Bruce anywhere like that.

“Take that thing off him,” he growled, ignoring the look Clint shot him, the ‘we’re trying to be subtle, here, Cap’ look.

The guards glanced to Coulson, who nodded. “We don’t need it.” The guards exchanged nervous looks, but slipped the snare off Bruce’s neck.

Thor stepped forward to take the chain at Steve’s jerk of his chin.

“Romanov?” Coulson asked.

“She’s coming. Apparently they had to sedate her earlier, so she’s a little slow-moving,” Harkness replied, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Steve swore internally. If they had to fight their way out, an incapacitated Widow was a definite problem.

Finally, the door slid open again and Natasha stumbled out. Her face was swollen and bruised, but her puffy eyes widened when she caught sight of Coulson.

Steve willed her not to say anything, to stay silent, to resist asking the question even if she was drugged.

Clint stepped forward to take her arm, and her guards returned through the door with Bruce’s.

“They’re all yours, sir,” Koffman said with a sympathetic smile, and then they were all stuffed into the elevator, even more squished than before.

Natasha started to mumble something but Clint just squeezed her arm and she was silent. Steve’s pulse thundered in his ears, adrenaline screaming through his system as the elevator rose through the levels of the detention centre. It was slow, so slow, surely too slow?

But then the door opened with a ping, and they were at ground level again, and they were marching quickly - not too quickly, stay calm, look natural - through the building, and there was the door and the slowly brightening sky.

Steve let out his breath, but then a claxon sounded with a noise like the end of the world. Agents poured out of offices at every side and Steve yelled, telling the others to run, run, and his shield knocked back the bullets as they ripped through the air.

Thor smashed the glass door and they ran through the falling glass, and the second they were all on the pavement Thor shouted for Heimdall.

Steve felt the Bifrost grab hold of him the instant the gun shot rang out and he saw Clint fall backwards, red mist fine and hazy in the morning air.

Steve was still yelling his name when they landed in Asgard.

Clint fell to the floor with a groan. Steve shoved away a stunned Bruce and doped Natasha standing in his way to get to Clint’s side. He was curled around his belly like a child, and Steve fell to his knees beside him.

“Clint?” he asked, pulling at his shoulder until Clint unfolded, his hands pressing down in the wound in his gut. Steve pushed them away to replace them with his own.. He had super strength. He could keep the blood in Clint’s body, keep him alive, not lose him like he’d lost so many others. Bucky’s face lingered in his mind’s eye, superimposing itself over Clint’s, and Steve had to bite down on his panic.

“You idiot, I saw you move. You ran into the killzone,” Steve muttered.

Clint smiled, but there was blood in his teeth. “They were aiming for Phil. Couldn’t let that happen again, Cap.”

Steve grimaced and looked up, taking stock of their surrounds. Heimdall watched them with the same grave and distant expression, and Steve wondered if he was even seeing them at all. Thor had disappeared, flying out of the dome behind his hammer, and Steve hoped to God he was bringing whatever version of medic they had in Asgard. Coulson knelt on Clint’s other side, his face an unreadable mask. Bruce had collapsed onto the steps, cradling his head in shaking hands, Natasha trying to clumsily comfort him and mostly just slurring her words and petting him with fumbling touches. It was the least graceful Steve had ever seen her, and it was strangely endearing.

“So, Agent Barton. It seems that we were talking at cross-purposes earlier,” Coulson said, taking off his jacket and balling it up. He lifted Clint’s head gently, sliding the jacket underneath.

Clint chuckled, and to Steve it sounded horrible. “You could say that, sir.”

“How about you explain what we were to each other in your world,” Coulson suggested, and Steve recognised it for what it was. Keep him talking, keep him conscious.

“Well, sir, we were fucking.” Clint laughed again, like it was funny, but the smile on his face was pained. “It was a secret, though. Regulations, you know. But it had been a while, and we were going to come clean about it soon. Then you died.”

“I see.”

Clint clenched his teeth and tensed, breathing fast through his nose, and Steve had to hold him down to stop any more blood escaping.

“It was my fault, you know,” Clint continued when the spasm ended, voice soft and agonised. “I got him onto the helicarrier, and I wasn’t there when he stabbed you, too busy getting my brains fixed by Tasha’s boot.”

Coulson nodded like this made perfect sense, when Steve knew it had to be gibberish to him. “How did you cope with my death, Barton?”

Clint grinned again, but it was more like a baring of teeth. “Fucking terribly, sir. All sorts of self-destructive methods. Tried fucking around, but it didn’t take, couldn’t even get it up. So I spent my nights in the range, or the gym, or just running when I got locked out of those. No drinking, but I sure as shit tried to get myself killed a lot this past year. Don’t think I’ve ever jumped off that many buildings.”

Steve scowled, but didn’t interrupt.

“I wouldn’t have wanted that, Barton,” Coulson said softly.

Clint scoffed, and winced. “Yeah, well, you were dead, right? Didn’t matter what you wanted. Tasha threatened to kill me herself if I didn’t quit being a dumbass, of course.” Clint smiled fondly before he managed to focus on Coulson’s face. His expression went slack in wonder, and Steve’s chest ached a little. “But it feels like I didn’t take a breath the whole year, until I saw you the other day in your office.”

“And I yelled at you,” Coulson said.

Clint smiled. “Yeah. Just like old times.”

There was something in Coulson’s smile at that that made Steve take in his breath. It was soft, lingering, remembering.

Remembering.

“Agent Coulson?” he asked.

Coulson never looked up from Clint’s face, but Steve knew, even before he said a thing.

“Hello, Captain. It’s been a while.”

Steve didn’t get a chance to process that, because Thor rushed in with the Asgardian equivalent of paramedics, and the next twenty minutes ran together in a blur of flurried movement. Clint had been given the Asgardian version of abdominal surgery to remove the bullet, and he and Natasha were conked out in connected rooms, attended by healers.

“I assure you, Captain, Asgard is without equal in the healing arts,” Thor said quietly, his hand squeezing Steve’s shoulder as he steered Steve out of Clint’s room. Steve sighed and scrubbed at his face, trying to will himself to calm down.

“I know, Thor. I’m just…”

Thor smiled. “I understand, Steven. But for the moment, there is naught to be done for them save what is already being done. Come. Break bread with me. The Son of Coul and our comrade Bruce are waiting.”

Steve shook his head and tried to put aside the image of Clint, pale and face wracked in pain, an Asgardian healer wrist deep in his gut, magic glowing blue about her face.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Thor lifted an eyebrow. “Do you perhaps wish to… freshen up?” he asked, looking pointedly at Steve’s hands. They were stained with Clint’s blood, along with the front of his uniform, the silver star flecked red.

Steve coughed. “That would probably be for the best.”

Thor gestured to a door across from Clint and Natasha’s. “You will find clothing and washing necessities in here. My manservant will show you to the terrace when you are ready.”

Steve blinked at ‘manservant’ but the idea of hot water and soap was suddenly irresistible. Thor left with another knowing smile.

Steve made straight for the deep tub at the side of the huge room, turning and twisting the levers until hot water began pouring out of an enormous brass faucet in the shape of a stag’s head.

The ceiling was hung with golden and red drapes of crushed velvet and shot silk, the bed piled high with thick pelts. A bear’s jaw was frozen mid-roar on the floor, its hide still glossy. It was opulent like nothing he’d ever seen, and it made him miss Tony more than ever. Tony would have loved this room, for all that he’d complain it wasn’t modern enough. They even decorated with my colours, Cap. Considerate for aliens. I guess wi-fi would be asking too much, though, right?

Steve shook his head and took off his costume. He was being maudlin again. He couldn’t afford it. Clint and Natasha were injured, but being cared for. Bruce was another matter. Steve was almost positive that SHIELD hadn’t hurt him, the simple truth being that they would have been too afraid of his reaction, Hulk-proof cells or not. Still, Bruce’s expression when he’d seen Steve, and the shaking wreck that he’d been on the steps of Heimdall’s observatory while Steve’s attention had been taken by Clint told him that Bruce most definitely wasn’t unscathed.

He drew the water for his bath, making it deep and hot, and waited for it to fill. He puzzled over the pots and jars beside the tub before selecting the one that smelled the least suspicious. The foam had been tinged pink by the time he was washed, but he felt calm and focused again. Steve wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t been picked to lead the Avengers because he was the strongest, or the fastest, or the cleverest. He’d been chosen because he knew people, and he cared, and he knew when to push or leave it alone. It was what gave him his tactical skill. He knew what people could give, and what they couldn’t take.

Most people, anyway. Tony was an exception.

Towelling himself off, he investigated the clothing lying on the bed. To his relief, it wasn’t anything complicated or outlandish, a pair of trousers and a shirt of the same soft but thick material. Steve pulled on his own boots after them, ignoring how stupid he felt in light green clothes with bright red boots. You look like a Christmas tree, Cap.

Thor’s manservant-honestly, Steve’s life was so odd sometimes-stood waiting outside his door, and led him to a bright, airy terrace. Thor, Coulson and Bruce sat at a table fairly groaning with food, platters of fruit and bread and cheese and… was that a boar?

“Steve!” Bruce said, standing so quick his chair fell backwards.

Steve met him halfway to the door, but Bruce pulled up with a start and began to fiddle with his hem, shuffling awkwardly. Steve heard the phantom Tony in his head scoff. Honestly, Cap, give the guy a hug, will you? I promise you won’t get cooties. Wait, did they have cooties in the forties? Here, quick, I’ll give you a cootie shot.

Steve moved slowly, so Bruce would see it coming, and enfolded the other man in a tight hug. “I’m so glad we got you back, Bruce.”

Bruce stood rigid in Steve’s arms for a long moment, before he reached up to tentatively pat Steve’s back. “Thanks for coming, Steve,” he said.

Steve smiled and pulled away. He took Bruce’s shoulders in his hands and met his gaze. “You’re on my team. And you’re my friend. I’ll always come, you got that?”

Bruce smiled, and if it still looked hunted then Steve wasn’t going to call him on it. Not after the last few days.

“Bruce was regaling us of his and the fearsome Widow’s adventures in Kolkata!” Thor boomed from the table through a mouthful of bread. Coulson rolled his eyes and sipped his drink primly.

Steve took a seat, eyeing the roasted animals with suspicion. He’d stick to cheese and fruit. “Yeah, tell me.”

Bruce shrugged and took a sip of something steaming. “Really, it’s not very exciting. I stayed in most of the time, and Nat would run out to meet her contacts, get the stuff we needed, all that. I mostly tried to figure out how the hell we got here.”

“How did they catch you?” Steve asked.

Bruce sighed. “They picked us up right off the plane. Nat tried to talk us out, then she tried to fight us out, but they must have expected her, because they drugged her pretty quick. She took about ten out first, though,” he added, a smirk playing around his lips.

Steve smiled. Watching Natasha pummel guys three times her size was always a fun time. “How’d they know it was you?”

“Probably facial recognition,” Bruce guessed. “Going by plane was always a long-shot, to be honest. We should have aborted when Thor showed up, but…” He shrugged again.

“You did the right thing,” Steve said. “It was my call. I should have thought about the facial recognition, or asked Thor about the Bifrost option. You followed my orders, Bruce. I’m the one who should apologise to you.”

Bruce frowned. “Steve.”

Steve lifted a hand. “No, really. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bruce.”

Bruce quirked a little smile. “Cap, that barely scores a blip on my ‘bad weekend’ radar.”

Steve gave him a smile back. “Nevertheless. I’m sorry, Bruce.”

“I know, Steve,” Bruce said, and an awkward silence fell.

“Son of Coul, you have yet to share the story of your own recovery,” Thor finally said around a mouthful of meat.

Coulson shrugged, looking uncomfortable, his fingers tensing on his cup. “It’s strange. I remember both… lives, I guess you would call them. They’re both real. They sit side-by-side in my head. I remember my wife, I remember leaving her, and I remember getting stabbed in the kidney by Loki that same day. How’s that for a cosmic middle finger?” he tried to joke.

Thor looked stricken. “I must apologise. It must be difficult for you to be here, in the realm of your killer.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “Thor. I’m a SHIELD agent. I assure you, I’ve been in worse situations.”

Thor looked down at his plate and fiddled with a horn of mead. He looked miserable. Steve hadn’t really thought about it, about how difficult it must be to reconcile your team-mates’ hatred, justified hatred no less, of a brother you loved. Could he have worked with a team that hated Bucky?

He couldn’t imagine it, and put the thought aside. There was a question that he needed answered. “Where is he, Thor?”

Thor frowned. “He has been interred upon the Isle of Silence, where he may neither practise his magic nor wield the silver tongue for which he is famed. It is, perhaps, the one place which will hold him.”

“So there’s no way he could have done this, then? The whole reality… thing?” Steve asked.

Thor shook his head. “My brother’s magic works in ways I do not understand, but I do know that words are the yarn with which he waves. While they cannot be spoken, he has neither warp nor weft.”

Steve shared a blank look with Bruce. “Well, okay then,” he said. He had no choice but to believe Thor, and trust that the Asgardians wanted him locked up as much as the Avengers and SHIELD did. “There are other sorcerers here though, right?”

Thor smiled faintly. “All in Asgard know some little magic, but the greatest of our scholars are my mother and father, who tended Yggdrasil to blossom and branch in the time long before my birth.”

One day, Steve would understand it when other people talked. One day.

Not today, however.

“They tended a plant,” Steve repeated, his brow creasing in the familiar way that it always did when he could understand the words but not how they fit into the conversation. Do you two… fondue?

“He means they built the Bifrost,” Bruce interjected, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He had the glazed expression that Steve was learning to recognise. Bruce and Tony both looked like that when they were sunk inside their own minds, puzzling out problems and thinking so fast Steve couldn’t imagine ever keeping up.

“Indeed,” Thor confirmed. “It was through the craft of Heimdall that it was remade, but the first bridge between worlds was the work of my parents.”

“Not teams of eager Asgardians?” Coulson asked dryly.

Steve cracked a grin at Thor’s sheepish expression.

“Forgive my earlier untruth,” Thor muttered. “It was necessary to distract you, and keep the knowledge of the Tesseract from all but we who remembered it.”

Coulson waved a hand. “It’s all right, Thor. Half of me approves, anyway.” He frowned. “It’s weird. Like I’m… disagreeing with myself.”

“Hey, we should start a club,” Bruce suggested with a roll of his eyes. “Unpleasant Alter-Egos Anonymous.”

“Are you calling me unpleasant, Banner?” Coulson asked lightly, and Bruce tilted his head.

“From what Nat tells me you could overcome the Other Guy with the sheer power of your paperwork,” Bruce drawled.

“Do you think they would be willing to help us, Thor?” Steve asked, ignoring them.

“I believe they would be most pleased to,” Thor said. “I will go and seek them now, if you wish.”

Steve nodded. “The sooner the better. I mean, no offence to Asgardian hospitality,” he added hastily, but Thor gave him an understanding smile as he stood.

“We will retrieve him, Steven. Fear not,” he said, striding inside with the regal manner that only Thor could exude.

“Hey, I died and you lot still wouldn’t leave me alone,” Coulson said, voice dry as a desert.

“Are you actually making jokes about that?” Bruce asked, eyes wide. Steve had spend more time with the unfriendly Coulson but it was the stumbling, awkward man he remembered more, and it was somehow reassuring to hear him joke.

Coulson shrugged. “It’s my funeral and I’ll laugh if I want to?”

Bruce choked.

Steve blinked. “I hope that was a reference.”

Coulson just smiled, and the slightly dopey tinge at the edge when he looked at Steve made Steve’s tension lift. Just a little.