Avengers/SGA - A Tale of a Fateful Trip

[cat_77]

Title: A Tale of a Fateful Trip
Genre: Gen, Crossover (Avengers/Stargate: Atlantis)
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~11,400 words
Synopsis: An emergency evacuation and an EM pulse leave a cobbled together team stranded, injured, and awaiting rescue.
Author's Notes: For the "shipwrecked" square at hc_bingo. Also, if you do not know the awesome that is Miko Kusanagi, you might think her hints at past experiences to be a little Mary Sue-ish.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.

Also available on AO3.


“ETA?” Fury demanded.

There was scurrying, but no one was dumb enough to make him repeat himself. “Missile should impact in eight minutes, forty-two seconds, sir,” Agent Reynolds reported.

“Status of the shield?” was the next expected question.

Reynolds shook her head. “The engineering team is working on it, and Mr. Stark is talking them through it, but...” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head like the dutiful soldier she was. “ETA on the shield is currently seven minutes, fifty-two seconds per projections, sir.”

And that was the problem. Not just the whole timing cutting it way too close for comfort. The shield, should it actually initialize, would still take several seconds to come up to full power. Several seconds in which they would still be vulnerable, like they were right now. Stark could do it faster, and everyone knew it, but Stark could also intercept the missile and possibly disarm it before it hit. Then again, Stark could also set the damn thing off in any attempt to disarm it and then, one way or another, they would all be screwed.

The missile was of the electromagnetic variety only impervious to the current shielding standards and was identical to the one that had hit London only an hour before. It hit the ship, the pulse went off, and a very heavy boat would realize it was in the air instead of the water. They managed evasive maneuvers or Stark managed to get to it before it got to them, it didn’t hit, it could still go off and they would still fall if they were within the blast radius. Even if Stark got it far enough away before the pulse, his suit was vulnerable and they would have a genius in the equivalent of a tin can at the bottom of the ocean.

It was the ocean that they were headed to now. Best to ease into the water than to bellyflop into it and all that, but the process took time. Time that they were running out of.

“Orders, sir?” Steve asked. He needed to move. He needed to act. He needed to actually do something other than sit in the cockpit of an oversized plane and possibly drown himself all over again, this time taking dozens if not hundreds of others with him.

“Evacuate,” Fury replied. He finally glanced away from the readouts that predicted dire and awful things and faced Rogers head on. “Take your team and any stragglers you can find and get the hell out of Dodge. Take Agent Hill with you - at least one of the two of us will have the greater chance of surviving this damn thing.”

Hill protested, of course, but if Reynolds was a good soldier, Hill was an excellent one. Fury simply had to repeat that it was an order and she nodded, checked her sidearm, and bodily shoved two of her aides towards the door.

Steve followed and relayed the orders through his comm. Natasha switched from Agent Romanov to Black Widow mode in the space of a heartbeat, entire demeanor changing at his side while they jogged to the evac point. She paused only once, and it was outside of the primary science labs. She grabbed Banner from where he was tucked off to the side running simulations and shouting ideas, and tugged him into the hallway.

“I was-” he started, but was cut off.

“Fury’s orders,” she explained. She shoved a separate comm into his hand and said, “This will keep you in touch with the lab. If they need you for anything, they can contact you through this.”

“An EMP pulse will knock out all communications,” he argued, even though he knew she already knew this. He also notably still followed them.

“And will knock us out of the air,” she countered so Steve didn’t have to. “We’re to try to get outside of the blast radius and provide aid when and if we can.”

“Tony?” he finally asked.

Steve winced because his own comm had been keyed into Stark’s ongoing monologue since the whole debacle began, and it wasn’t pretty. Something about a disrupter field around the missile itself that was interfering with the suit. He had been called back, but listened about as well as usual and insisted that he could compensate. He had to wonder just how well Tony could compensate when his attention was split between that compensation, shouting ideas to the team on the carrier, and actually flying. At least JARVIS would help with one of the three, but Steve was willing to bet Stark also had that super computer of his running simulations and diagrams and distracting as much as actually assisting.

He also had to wonder how many minutes they had left, and calculated it as “not very much” by the time they reached the hanger bay. The standard fighter planes and helicopters had already taken off with as many people as they could hold, leaving the handful of Quinjets for final evac. The bridge was at a skeleton crew, and those there refused to leave as their function was essential for keeping the carrier in the air for as long as possible. The scientists in the lab would be left with two helicopters and two impatient pilots, if they could get there in time.

He entered to find Barton already signaling Wallace to take off, a full complement of agents neatly belted into the seats and several unwisely standing. He nodded at Hill and headed to one of the remaining crafts, not surprised in the least when she headed for Greene’s instead. “You get the Avengers and whoever can stomach any potential rescue of Stark,” she called out as she strode across the bay.

At least five people turned on their heel to follow her, but another three readily lined up to climb aboard with him. Steve turned to one, a tiny middle-aged woman of Asian descent and verified, “Are you sure you want this bird, ma’am? The flight might be a bit on the rough side.”

She smiled beatifically up at him, oversized glasses askew and top of her head barely reaching the star on his chest. “My frame may be small, but it is sturdy,” she insisted.

He had nothing to say to that, so he let her pass and watched to make sure she was buckled in properly. He made note of her name, one Doctor Kusanagi, as he did so, and tried to smile back even as he yanked her harness as tight as it would go when her own tugs still made it seem too loose for his own comfort. He did the same for the other two and looked out to find no further agents remaining save for Widow, who had keyed a code into a seemingly bare wall. The metal subsequently rolled back to reveal a great deal more weaponry than he would have previously suspected. “We don’t have time for that,” he told her, fearing his words fell upon deaf ears.

“Nat, get your ass in the plane,” Clint called from the cockpit. “Fury says we’re outta here four minutes ago.”

Fury had actually said a great deal more than that, with a great deal more profanity, but Steve knew Natasha was wired in to the same signal as him and already knew this. She heaved a box anyway, another bag tossed over her shoulder, and ran up the ramp as it began to rise, shoving the carton before her. Bruce unbuckled himself to help her lock it down, and the floor shook as Barton took off at a speed that was far from standard.

His team had ridden in far worse conditions without the safety harnesses, so he wasn’t that concerned. He was, however, more than a bit worried when they had barely traveled a mile off the rotors of the carrier and the entire fuselage lit bright white and shocking.

Every single light and gauge turned dark, and Clint swore even more profusely than Fury had previously as the jet lurched sharply to the left. Steve spared a thought to hope that Stark had flown clear, then spared a thought to Natasha, who had been tossed backwards towards the ramp that had not yet fully sealed and likely was not going to any time soon. She was struggling, decompression taking its toll, though he could not tell if her head was actually bleeding or her bright red hair clung to her forehead as his own vision was doubled and everything swam by when he tried to move.

Moving was apparently a bad thing in general as the Quinjet as a whole spun wildly, Clint shouting about how he had absolutely no control and they were going down and ordering them all to brace for impact. Bruce looked to Natasha where she clung to some cargo netting, and then to the others, arm that was woven through one half of a harness slowly releasing as he said, “You guys are going to have to trust me on this.”

Even Steve could see how Widow’s eyes grew wide at that. “No, Bruce, don’t do it!” she shouted back to him, already sliding along the metal.

“Too late,” Banner said without even a hint of remorse, and then he began to transform.

Someone, possibly Aelin as Johnson was oddly silent, made a definitely non-professional noise of surprise, but managed to rein it in as the Hulk’s massive form quickly filled the small compartment. One beefy hand reached out to rather gently pull Natasha from her perilous perch before she was tucked against the huge body, a living a breathing shield all of her own. Kusanagi made a noise and Steve could see her slipping in the harness not quite made for a person her size and still not quite properly fitted despite his best efforts. The Hulk reached out with one arm and provided a backup barrier for her and the agent next to her as well.

The jet was suffocating, and not just from the pressurized air being sucked out the still open hatch. Banner’s alter ego took up far too much room, even as curled up and pressed against the sides as he was. It took Steve a stupidly long time to realize Barton had put on a mask and then even longer to realize he had one available to himself. He shouted for the others to follow his lead, unsure if they could even hear him, and pulled the heavy rubber and plastic over his face. He watched Aelin nearly drop his, but eventually fit it on, and then grab for the one that should have been Johnson’s and shoved it on her as well, reaching around the bulk of the huge green arm to do so.

They spun for an eternity and far too short of time. Barton shouted something about attempting a softer landing and then to brace for impact, as if they hadn’t been doing so before. Steve had about a second to wonder what he meant by “softer” before the jolt of hitting something at least semi-solid knocked all thoughts and possibly some consciousness away. When he blinked his eyes open again and tried to focus, he could hear Clint mutter/shout, “Come on, come on, work! I know you’re just a prototype, but you can do it!”

He looked around for a sign of both just what was going on as well as the status of the others, and did not like what he saw. Equipment was strewn about, some hanging from the cargo nets and some busted out of holding drawers. Aelin looked to possibly be unconscious, while Johnson had removed her mask to vomit on the thankfully empty floor next to her. Kusanagi and Romanov were completely dwarfed by the Hulk, and Barton was slapping and pulling and pounding on various controls, ignoring the way blood dripped down the side of his neck from a wound hidden somewhere along his scalp.

The most troubling though, was the blue. Lots and lots of blue. And not the blue of the sky, but the blue of water, waves splashing up against the front window and seeping in from the open hatch.

“The buoyancy protocol is not working,” Barton called after removing his mask. He tossed his headset to the side, completely useless as it was. “Either we’re too heavy or too damaged - either way we’re sinking fast.”

There was a grunt and the entire jet shook as the Hulk turned around in the cramped quarters. “Hulk too heavy,” he said.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Clint shouted before Banner could become Banner again. “We’re going to need Big and Green to break out of this bird if none of the systems are working, which they aren’t by the way, and there’s no way any of us are in any shape to haul Bruce’s unconscious ass out of here if we start to go down.”

There was another grunt and then some shuffling, and then Steve found a very unconscious Natasha very gently lowered into his lap. “Watch her,” he was ordered, as if such words were actually needed.

He undid his harness one handed because he had a feeling what was going to happen next and figured it was better to be as free as possible in case the worst came of it. Sure enough, the gigantic form in front of him lumbered to the back of the jet and began to pound on the hatch, inching it slowly down from its position. Johnson and Kusanagi quickly got with the program and unlatched themselves as well, sloshing through the now inches deep water to try to rescue supplies.

Sooner rather than later, the door was down and water coursed inwards, the back half of the jet significantly lower than the front. It was only for a moment though, as the Hulk jumped off and into the water, the jet as a whole literally bouncing upright as the buoyancy protocols kicked in and raised the lump of metal upwards atop the water.

It wasn’t perfect, especially not with the hatch still open and water freely lapping along the bottom, but they were at least not sinking as fast, which was a definite plus in his book. Kusanagi fitted herself with a life vest and ventured towards the edge of where metal hit liquid, Johnson cursing less than silently before wrapping a hand through the netting and another around the handle at the back of the vest. “I think he sank,” the smaller woman said sadly, more than a hint of sorrow to her tone.

Of course, that’s when a giant green hand latched on to the rim, scaring both women enough for them to scurry back to a safer distance. It was a good thing they did too, as the Hulk literally shoved the jet - passengers, gear, and all - forward, Johnson’s prior precautions the only thing keeping both of them from falling outright.

They sailed across the water until they drifted to a stop. Steve took a moment to simply breathe deeply, muscles even beginning to unclench from where they still held Natasha tightly to him. Of course the respite was only for a moment before the jet shook again, the metal of the door creaking and crumbling as a green hand crushed it once more.

"Hold on," he called, likely unnecessarily, as they went sailing again. This time, there was no gentle drift to a stop. The impact was sudden and severe and accompanied by the reverberation of rocks scraping along the bottom and sides of their makeshift, highly weaponized raft.

Clint turned around and looked far worse for wear. "We done yet?" he asked with a groan.

"I think so," Steve confirmed hesitantly when there were no further launches.

Clint flopped backwards against the pilot's seat and sighed, "Thank fuck." There was a pause, and Steve knew his teammate well enough to know he was doing a mental inventory of both his own status and that of the Quinjet, so it came as no surprise when he asked, "Injuries?"

"Aelin is out and so is Widow. Johnson is favoring her right side and Kusanagi looks like she has a broken wrist," he reported.

"Sprain only, if that," the tiny woman corrected. She tossed her knotted ponytail over her shoulder with a fair deal of attitude and then adjusted her glasses. He caught the way she barely used her injured hand to do either, however, and was very tempted to call her on it. As if reading his mind, she insisted, "I am quite capable of assisting with the evacuation if needed."

"As am I," Johnson chimed in. She grabbed a life vest for herself and made a point of moving as smoothly as possible as she tugged it on, reminding Steve that these were professionals he was with and that he should treat them as agents and not as casualties of the situation.

He glanced down at the charge in his arms to verify that, yes, she was still breathing and that, yes, that was a nasty gash along her hairline. He did not want to dwell on how still she was, or how uneasy that made him feel, so instead he asked, "And you? Status, Hawkeye?"

He figured Barton would either obfuscate or outright lie, so he wasn't surprised at the answer of, "I estimate that we're about fifty-three yards from anything that resembles stable land."

Steve smiled despite himself. "Fifty-three?"

"Plus or minus a foot," Clint confirmed.

"That's the ship's status, but what's yours?" he asked, knowing it was the only way he might possibly get anything resembling a real answer.

Clint grumbled at being caught, but relented with, "Probable concussion and whiplash, which means the estimate might be off. Haven't tried standing yet, so we'll see what other treasures lie beneath and all that." There was the sound of his harness being undone, and then he added, "Oh, and you probably don't want to be holding Nat when she comes 'round, unless you like bruises, as in the kind even you will feel."

Steve took that under advisement, but wasn't exactly sure where else to put the injured woman for the time being. Kusanagi and Johnson took care of that, though. They laid an emergency blanket across the seats on one side of the cabin to settle Aelin across, and then moved to do the same on his side, the message clear as to their intent.

He stood to lay Natasha across the makeshift bed and felt her tense slightly at the movement despite her eyes never even flickering. Sure enough, he laid her down and managed to get a whole step back before her arm lashed out followed by her foot in a way that would have swept her upwards and taken him out at the knees had he not stopped both with well-timed blocks.

"Tasha!" Clint called before she could attempt a follow through. "We're clear," he promised, sloshing over to her side.

Her eyes snapped open but her expression otherwise did not change before she drily greeted, "Hello, Captain." He released the hold he had on her ankle and she followed through anyway, but only up into a sitting position. Both he and Barton managed to catch her before she toppled over into the water, and Steve quickly let go once he saw her usual partner in crime had it under control.

"Head wound. Plane crash," Barton reported in response to her unasked question. His lips flit up into a grin, bypassing a wince even Steve caught despite how quickly it passed. "You missed the part where Hulk-man turned a Quinjet into a sailboat. Awesome, really. I'm doubting the Three Amigos here will ever want to fly with us again."

Johnson nodded readily enough, but Kusanagi just shrugged and offered a quiet, "Would you believe me if I said I've had worse?" Steve made a mental note to look up her file. He knew that SHIELD agents had been through all sorts of training and myriads of different experiences, but she was taking things far too calmly not to set off warning bells.

Neither Hawkeye nor Widow seemed that concerned though, showing little reaction save for mirrored raised eyebrows. The small woman raised her own back at them. "Sheppard," was all she said in response. It was apparently enough as the other two agents nodded as though that was a perfectly reasonable explanation and backed down completely.

"Banner protected me?" Natasha verified. She rolled her left shoulder, as much of a tell for a possible injury as they were likely going to get. "Where is he now?"

Steve moved towards the hatch to look out across the still settling water and saw a black tuft of hair moving closer within the path left by their transit and assumed their friend was still alive and well and rapidly approaching. The roar of a growl he heard verified it as far as he was concerned.

"I'm fine, take care of yourself," Natasha called back, an echoing grunt serving as a response.

"Does he actually understand you in that form, or does he just recognize your voice and tone?" Johnson asked. Several strands of hair had escaped her blonde braid, and she swiped at them as though she took personal offense to the action. Steve had directly worked with her once previously and had learned she was also part of the linguistics division which, according to her, meant language and communication were her forte. Melissa, as she had asked him to call her at the time, was endlessly fascinated by Thor's AllSpeak, and he had taken to her readily enough, even though he still occasionally called her "Johndottir" in error.

"He understands commands in the field, and when we make requests for Banner to return, so I would say yes," Steve replied, wanting to give his injured and clearly tired teammates a break.

"They're one in the same," Clint answered as though it were as simple as that. Then again, he was one of the few who stood up to the Hulk with no apparent fear so, maybe for him at least, it really was.

She looked as though she had more questions, and even opened her mouth slightly as if about to voice them, but was cut off when Natasha pointed out, "The water is still coming in. Either we need to seal the hatch, or we need to evacuate."

"The water is coming from more than just the hatch," Kusanagi replied. She gestured to a small stream that was creating an almost current just below the seats Aelin was laid out across. "You were unconscious when we struck ground. I believe that is when the damage occurred."

"If we're grounded-" Natasha started, but was cut off by a shake of Clint's head.

"Sand dune or some such," he explained. "Bird's going to go down and take us with it if we don't evac to land."

"It's not far and there's enough vests for everyone but, unless you want to haul Curt's unconscious ass as far as Roby can punt, we might want to check on a raft," Johnson chimed in. Off the look she received for the effort, she rolled her eyes and said, "When I say I'm a Hawkeye fan, I don't mean I'm one of Barton's groupies."

"Thirty-nine was still the best year," Clint grinned. He held his hand up and she smacked it readily enough before they both agreed, "Kinnick."

Natasha sighed, but even Steve knew her heart wasn't in it. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"

"Probably," Kusanagi agreed before kneeling in the water to unlock the inflatable life raft.

Transport actually went surprisingly well. The raft was tethered to the ramp and the three scientists placed aboard with as many supplies as they dare risk at once. Clint added a case that everyone knew held his bow, but insisted on swimming out along side to make sure everything was safe. Natasha, of course, did the same, injured shoulder or no, so Steve settled himself in the rather chilled water right beside them, iconic shield safely aboard the raft. No rowing was needed as the bright yellow transport became Hulk-powered and, soon enough, they found themselves stranded on a random chunk of land versus a sinking hunk of metal.

"Well, that was less than disastrous," Johnson said, clearly having expected something to go horribly wrong. Of course, that was when she tried to heft Clint's quiver, lost her footing for a moment, and managed to drop the lot, sharpened arrowhead slicing into the rubber and plastic.

Kusanagi managed to spray a patch in place within moments, but the damage was done and they had lost a significant amount of inflation for at least the time being. "Please never do that again," she said primly before returning to unload several of the supplies.

Barton reached down and around the chastised linguist to grab his own gear and agreed, "What she said," though whether it was about damning them with her words or touching his stuff was anyone's guess.

"I thought I was helping," Johnson grumbled.

"Unless you have ordinance training, you are not cleared to touch these," Clint said, not unkindly.

"He means he carries things that go boom," Aelin chimed in. He had awoken during transport, either from the movement or the cold, wet spray of the water hitting him square in the face. "Slicing the rescue raft is the least of our worries."

Johnson raised her eyebrows doubtingly, possibly thinking like so many others that the quiver held only sharpened bits of metal and fiberglass. "Boom?" she asked.

"Badda boom," Clint confirmed with a smile.

Aelin shook his head, and winced from the action. "Knowing you, big badda boom," he guessed.

"I try," Clint shrugged, and his fellow injured agent agreed readily enough.

Steve let them be for now and concentrated on getting the rest of the gear out of the now severely listing craft without doing more damage. He made short work of it, especially since he didn't bother organizing anything and simply acted as ferryman instead. Aelin stumbled aground with minimal assistance, and then readily sat on a convenient rock formation and helped the other two scientists sort everything out, pausing only to open the first aid kit and make Johnson wrap Kusanagi's wrist and make Widow at least clean the head wound even though she frowned at an actual bandage.

Banner had not returned to Banner yet, which meant the big guy felt something was amiss. He stood watch over the others while Steve, Natasha, and Clint scouted the immediate area for threats. They found none, but Steve wanted to go further inland on a hunch, if nothing more. He was torn though, as his teammates were clearly injured and would insist on coming with. He ended up splitting the difference, and the team, and had requested Widow continue on with him while abusing Hawkeye's rapport with the Hulk to have him return to keep an eye on their remaining teammate and the scientists.

Unfortunately, one of the scientists disagreed, and her polite yet adamant rebuttal meant that, somehow, Kusanagi had invited herself along. "I have had extensive field training and may be able to identify items that will be useful," she insisted.

Steve looked to Natasha, who shrugged stiffly. Her gait was slightly off, not enough to be noticeable if you weren't looking for it, and he once again felt guilty for dragging her along. "All I know about Miko is that she earned the trust of a decent man whose flight skills rival Barton's in insanity. That, and she's managed some impressive workarounds with limited supplies and timelines, but that could be said for nearly anyone assigned to the carrier."

"We may assume rescue is imminent and that the supplies will hold, but it would be prudent to see if there are items we wish to make use of or avoid if needed," Kusanagi declared. She had kept up well enough so far, though had needed minor assistance clearing a fallen log due to both her injury and her smaller stature. She was actually relatively quiet with few exceptions, seeming to either know the importance of silence or simply not a talker by nature. Twice she had stooped low towards some vegetation, shaking her head once and pocketing something else the second time.

"I thought your specialty was physics," Steve commented when she yanked what appeared to be a mushroom from a tree, touched it to her tongue, and then spit violently.

"I am unable to disclose my last assignment but, suffice it to say, far more than computer models were necessary for our survival," she replied crisply. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, revealing fingers stained an odd orange-red from whatever she had just dug through.

Steve was going to say something to that involving his dislike of unnecessary secrets even though he understood the "need-to-know" mentality had often saved lives, but was stopped at Natasha's signal. She circled around one way and Kusanagi grabbed a large stick as though to defend herself with, possibly waterlogged gun forgotten at her side. Instead of something dire, however, a boar and its piglets darted through, earning an eye roll from Natasha and a frown from the newly named Miko. "At least we know there is a protein source should food run out?" the smaller woman asked, earning a hint of a grin from Romanov.

"Were you going to spear it for us?" Steve asked with raised eyebrows, trying for joking. He was never sure what passed for jest these days and had inadvertently insulted someone in the past. He had also received more blank looks than not, and had been assured those were actually safer.

Kusanagi lowered her head and even blushed. "Not so, no," she said. She attempted to snap the larger stick into two smaller ones across her leg, and winced when the action aggravated her wrist. Steve took it from her and broke it easily before he handed it back. "Thank you," she said, swinging them both with a casual ease that spoke of many hours with a similar weapon as they were clearly weapons in her hands and not toys or something to appease the boredom. "These I know how to use, though they will not gain us lunch."

"Escrima?" Natasha guessed. She even looked slightly impressed, which was a huge compliment for her.

She received a shake of a head for her troubles. "Miss Emmagan called the technique something else, though I believe the principle is the same. Should something more than lunch be out there, I should at least not be a hindrance to you both."

She did not elaborate and Steve did not wish to push. He assumed it was more of the "classified" issues he kept coming across. There were things he had seen that he wasn't allowed to tell, things that he knew others knew that would answer so many questions for him, but they were banned as well. He understood classification rules at some level, but had been advised not to tell even his teammates certain facts in the past. Luckily Stark usually took matters into his own hands, found the info, and declared it to all which allowed them a bit more freedom of discussion, whether it was technically within the rules or not.

His mind drifted to Tony now. They had no word from him and, with the pulse knocking out all communications for the foreseeable future, he doubted they would anytime soon. He could only hope he made it out of there in time. The same could be said for everyone who remained on the helicarrier. He liked to imagine them safe and sound with minimal injuries and possibly actively searching for them as well.

The trio found nothing aside from possible food sources despite wandering for another hour, so he called it to allow them to check on the others. They broke the tree line to find the majority of the supplies organized, a temporary shelter set up, and Barton holding up a hand and saying, "Easy, big guy, these are our friends, remember?"

"Banner's not back yet?" Natasha asked, surprised.

Clint shook his head. "Big and Green seems to think we are at risk here, possibly because we were split up and possibly because he's not stupid. Now that you're back, I can try to talk him down again, but no promises." He walked over to their friend, balance off from more than just the uneven rocks and sand. He had removed his jacket to reveal arms littered with tiny cuts and bruises that were in the process of turning all sorts of painful hues.

Steve looked to Natasha who looked as though she really wanted to sigh, but held it in. "I'll clean him up," she told him. She started to march off after him, but turned around a few steps out to offer, "You get to try to find Banner some pants though."

Steve figured that was fair enough and started to dig through the supplies. He was careful not to disrupt their now careful order, but he also managed an informal inventory for himself in the process. They had a fair deal of weapons and emergency food supplies thanks to Romanov, though only had a basic first aid kit and the clothing on their backs. He knew most jets carried spares not just for Doctor Banner, but for a variety of sizes given that there was never a guarantee how a mission would run. He was also fairly certain there was a secondary first aid kit near the cockpit based on seeing one used once in passing.

Satisfied that he was about to get soaked again, he removed his boots and socks and placed them next to his shield, which was under apparent watch by at least three people. With a quick message to his teammates as to his intentions, he waded in until it was deep enough to swim.

The water was still chilled, but it felt good on the bruises that were deep enough to still be in the healing process hours later. He was at the downed jet soon enough, and noticed it had sunk a considerable ways during his time on land. His own weight made it creak ominously and while the water was at about waist level inside it, it wasn't exactly enough to simply swim and avoid touching the bottom outright.

He found the bag of clothing near where it was usually stashed, caught in the safety net and only slightly damp. The first aid kit was still in the cockpit as well, as more spatters of blood than he had originally been led to believe along the control panel. More worrisome than that, however, was a faint blue light beneath the copilot seat, tiny enough that even he would have missed it had it not been amplified by the refraction of the water.

Considering anything and everything electronic should have been well and truly dead, he felt he had a right to be concerned. Considering the faintest of hums he could still hear above the slosh of the waves, he was outright worried. His first instinct was to destroy it. It was clearly not SHIELD technology the way it was wired and latched around, not to mention he had never see such a thing on any other jet. He followed his second instinct though, and decided to warn the others and let someone with far more knowledge of modern technology than himself take a look at it to either disarm it or repurpose it into something they could use.

He didn't wish to trigger any sort of self destruct by removing it, so he left it there and packed up the kit and the clothing instead, leaving a small tool set behind for when they inevitably made the return trip.

"You didn't destroy it?" Clint asked, surprised. Swaths of his arms were stained brown with iodine where they weren't outright wrapped in bandages. He moved towards Natasha with his version of medical care in hand, but she swatted him away easily enough. Given that her boots were now joining Steve's in the sand, he had a fair idea where she intended to go, and it would have been a waste of supplies if she was just going to get them wet. The gash had closed on its own during their walk and, now that it was re-cleaned, looked less like something to be worried about and more like an annoyance based upon how she was treating it.

"I didn't want to blow anything up and leave a bright, shining buoy for whoever's tracking us to follow," he explained.

Kusanagi reached for her own shoes, but was stopped by Aelin. "You got to go on walkabout already," he complained goodnaturedly. "This sort of crap is my specialty. Let me have a look and, if I can't figure it out, you can poke it with a stick."

"It shall be a big stick," she grumbled, but relented.

Steve didn't like the idea of Natasha going without direct, Avengers-related backup, but both she and Clint swore that they had worked with Curt Aelin for years and that he was a loyal company man with good instincts. Clint himself wasn't going because tech was not his forte and he was still trying to talk the Hulk down, though now they had a potential reason for their final teammate's vigilance.

He watched the two agents swim out, fingers clenching and unclenching for nothing better to do. Clint stood beside him, an arrow in one hand and bow in the other. "If Curt suddenly switched sides, he'd be dead before he hit the water," he mused, arrow spinning in graceful turns through his fingertips.

"They're already in the ocean," Steve felt the need to point out.

Clint's smile held little humor as he nodded in agreement and said, "Exactly."

Steve left him to keep watch and eyed the sun that was already low in the sky. It looked like they would be spending at least one night in their temporary camp, unless some miracle occurred and SHIELD was able to both recover from the pulse and find them inside the next hour or so. He was not a betting man by nature, but felt safe in calling this one as a long-shot. That at least mentally determined, he went about verifying little things like that the shelter wouldn't collapse and that the slightly damp clothing for Banner was laid out to hopefully fully dry by the time he needed it.

Johnson and Kusanagi pulled out enough MREs for all and were debating whether to crack into the bottled water supply or to use the tablets to make the available water potable. Johnson rubbed her hands together and even outright shivered more than once, so Steve took one of the sweatshirts from the nearly half dozen available and offered it to her.

"Sorry," Melissa mumbled as she fumbled into it, not even questioning the gift. "I'm just one of those people who get cold and can't get warm again for hours."

"Trust me, I understand," he smiled. He would have said more, but he was distracted by a burst of near blinding white at the edge of his peripheral vision. It took him less than a second to track it, and by then Barton was already splashing through the water shouting Romanov's name.

A head of red poked out from around the back if the jet and a familiar voice called, "We're okay! Stand down!"

The jet teetered precariously with her movement, and her assurances did nothing to stop Clint from making his way to her. Even from his current distance, Steve could hear him demand, "What the hell happened?"

Kusanagi appeared at Steve's side. She pushed lopsided glasses back into place and asked, "Was that another EM pulse?"

He didn't have an answer to that despite his suspicions, and so the two of them waited with Johnson and the looming form of the Hulk while the other three slowly returned to shore. They weren't empty handed and not just from Barton still having his bow. Aelin carried a small metal box with a blue light on the side and Romanov carried the tool kit.

He didn't understand a lot of the discussion that followed, but Clint broke it down for him, possibly to terms that the archer himself understood: "The box generated a pulse of its own."

"So we weren't hit by the effects of the missile?" Steve confirmed. The notion was both positive and problematic in its own right.

"There's no way to be certain until we can contact SHIELD," Natasha replied. "It's still possible that we were hit by the main blast."

"It's also possible that this was planted as backup in advance in case Stark was able to stop the original missile," Clint pointed out. "It might not have the full range, but a blast like what we just saw smack dab in the middle of the helicarrier? That be enough to ground her, if not worse."

Miko peered around from the side and asked, "What triggered it now?"

Curt looked a little chagrined and admitted, "It might have been me when I attempted to remove the device."

"It also could have been on a timer and he just happened to be unhooking it when it went off," Natasha pointed out. Steve doubted she was actually defending his actions so much as reasoning out all the possibilities of the situation. It was also a way of admitting they did not fully know what they were dealing with and were doing the equivalent of educated guesses based off of the little information they currently had available.

A new voice chimed in and asked, "So, given the apparent output and our earlier calculations, it's safe to assume we have another twelve hours or so before this new field dissipates?"

Steve turned to find Dr. Banner, trousers torn and bare feet digging in the sand, voice slightly muffled as he struggled with a sweatshirt. Ratty curls poked through, and then a face lined with the shadows of pure and utter exhaustion. "Good to have you back, Bruce," he greeted him.

"It's good to be back," Banner said around a yawn. He waved at the device and then at the world around them. "Either the Other Guy thinks the danger has passed, or that I'd be of more use than him now. Let me take a look?"

He leaned forward to where the device had been placed on one of the storage containers, eyes squinted from either the light of the setting sun or the intricacy of the design. "Sorry, Doc, but I think we forgot your spare glasses," Clint apologized.

Bruce waved him off. "I've had worse," he promised, even though he rubbed at his left eye while saying so. "I broke a pair while on the run and had to do without for weeks before I found a prescription that was close. Hopefully we won't be stranded here quite that long."

His attentions turned to the machine, but he had inadvertently pointed out a potential issue. They had supplies, but not a lot of them, and no timeline on an actual rescue quite yet. Aelin looked over to the MREs that were waiting for them and said, "I think we have enough food for a few days, but SHIELD should find us soon enough, right?"

"If not, there are alternative food sources," Kusanagi pointed out. Her lips curled slightly at the edges, as if amused by her own joke yet afraid others might not be.

Clint turned to Natasha and said in the volume of a stage whisper, "She's not talking going all Donner party on us, right?"

Steve didn't get the reference, but the others did if their smirks and smiles were anything to go by. Even Bruce huffed out a laugh while feeling around the device for a possible entry point. Natasha did not take the bait, but simply replied, "How are you at field stripping boar?"

"It's been ages, but I think I can still manage," he mused in response. "Do we have anything other than tiny packets of hot sauce to marinate it in?"

Steve let them go at it for a while, wandering off to one of the many rock outcroppings to both eat his oddly flavored meal and keep an eye on his people and their current camp. Romanov and Barton took up watch on another cropping with a slightly different angle, poking each other with forks and paying far more attention to their surroundings than some may be led to believe. Banner and Aelin examined the machine and mindlessly ate what was put in front of them, and Johnson and Kusanagi varied between assisting them and doing something within the shelter that had been set up earlier.

Before long, when it was clear that Bruce was flagging and that the light from the emergency lanterns was doing more to highlight the shadows under his eyes than actually assist him, Steve pointedly suggested they call it a night. The combination of scientists had figured out how to turn the device off, or at least they hoped so, and decided to call that a success until they had a few hours of sleep and the morning's light on their side for further assistance. The blue light had gone dark, and the previous hum was either silenced or drowned out by the crashing of the waves on the shoreline - it was about as innocuous as they were going to be able to manage for the time being, and so they went with it.

Steve, Natasha, and Clint each took a watch while letting the others sleep the night through, and Steve was pleasantly surprised to find a semi-comfortable place to lay down when it was his turn to do so thanks to a cushioning layer of soft leaves placed there by either Kusanagi or Johnson earlier. He did an internal check of the shelter before he closed his eyes though, and found Aelin and Banner were both dead to the world, Johnson had appropriated an extra emergency blanket to wrap around herself, and Kusanagi had her sticks within easy reach even though her glasses were nowhere to be found. Satisfied, he allowed himself a light slumber, the events of the day proving more than a little tiring.

He awoke before sunrise to a high pitch wail and a flash of blinding light. This was followed in short by much profanity by a certain teammate who had been on watch at the time.

"What did you touch, Clint?" Natasha demanded, eyes already scanning the area for additional damage as she pushed free from the shelter.

"Nothing, I swear," Barton promised. He blinked watering eyes and attempted to rub them even though he still held his bow in hand. "I was over there and it started making noise. I got close enough to check it and the damn thing went off again!"

Steve looked to where he had pointed and had to admit the evidence fit the story. It was the same rock outcropping he himself had used earlier, but it was now littered with broken twigs and branches sharpened into featherless bolts and possibly other weapons. There were fresh footprints in the rocky sand that led from there to the device, and then an imprint from something definitely not a foot when the archer must have fallen backwards from the blast.

"I thought they turned it off?" he asked instead. A quick inspection showed the little blue light was still dark, but the device itself was warm to the touch and had a residual fading glow to it. There was a vibration, subtle and low, that would have corresponded to the earlier hum he still wasn't sure was actually there.

"False failsafe?" Natasha guessed.

"Or they just turned off the light and not the actual box," Clint reasoned. He readied an arrow and asked, "Can we destroy the fucker now?"

Steve shook his head at the predictability. Barton and Romanov wanted to break it into itty bitty pieces, and the scientists were already shouting not to even though most were barely awake at best. "First, no," he said to get that out of the way. "Second, your quiver and the detonators on your arrows are electronic so they are not going to work anyway. Third, Natasha, put down the gun. Fourth, any attempt to destroy it might make it do a lot worse than fire off another pulse and light show."

He looked around for confirmation that he was both heard an understood, and received a round of nodding heads - some reluctantly so - in return. He also received a muttered, "Like I don't know how to manually rig them," from Clint which he chose to ignore for his sanity's sake. The worst of the danger had passed though, at least for now. The machine was still in one piece even if that piece was still wreaking havoc, and nothing had detonated or actually made the situation any worse than it had been before. Extended it, yes, but at least it had not anything more severe.

Bruce still looked like he could sleep for a week, but clapped his hands together and said, "Let's give this another try?"

Steve let the scientists work while he and the remainder of his teammates discussed the gravity of the situation. Even if the helicarrier had survived and they or any other SHIELD base had been able to track them to their current location, retrieval would be near impossible should the pulse continue to fire. There would be no airlift options, and any watercraft would have to be manual in nature from the point of an undoubtedly sizable circumference around them. They had walked for miles and found no hint of civilization, so a ground recovery would also prove difficult at best. There was also the chance that the continuous pulse would create a sustained field, or at least one that would not dissipate for quite some time. This meant that, even if they found a way to disable the device, rescue could be days away.

"So, basically, at least for the time being, we're screwed," Clint summed it up.

Steve gave in to the urge to wipe a hand across his face, his own stubble prickly beneath his fingertips. "We have access to food sources and potable water, we can enhance the shelter to withstand any serious weather changes, and we can rinse if not wash our clothing as needed," he ticked off on his fingers. "All in all, I'm sure we can each think of worse scenarios, either that we have survived or that this has the potential to be. For now, I say we dig in and make the best of it."

"And hope for rescue or save ourselves?" Johnson asked as she walked up. Her fair skin was already slightly pink from the sun and her braid had definitely seen better days. She offered them each another MRE and settled in the sand beside them to poke at her own.

"The raft is nearly deflated, but would support one or two of us, if they had the strength to row," Natasha mused.

Clint shook his head. He swallowed his bite and licked his lips before he said, "Hulk-powered."

Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed, "Barton..."

He was insistent though. "You really think Banner would stay Banner with a single one of us floating out to sea alone? Anyone who went would have a large green protection detail and you know it."

He did have a point, and so Steve let himself think about it for lack of anything more challenging at the moment. A single agent left alone to the elements would not last nearly as long as a single agent and a giant, nearly indestructible protector, if that protector didn't simply sink from the sheer muscle mass. The others would be relatively safe back at the beach with the rest of the weaponry and armament. The problem was, there was simply no telling how far they would have to go to be able to safely contact reinforcements. He saw no land save for what they currently occupied, and Barton's famous eyes hadn't either. It would be a long trip out, plus time to get through any and all security protocols, plus time for a return trip. Even if SHIELD was scouting for them it would be both risky and time consuming for all involved and would have the added bonus of no contact incoming or outgoing for status updates.

He kept an eye on his surroundings but let his mind drift to what would be needed, even as he listened to Clint and Natasha come up with more and more off the wall scenarios with Melissa occasionally joining in the ridiculousness with them. At one point, Clint even mentioned building a radio to contact home, which was odd because they had such things on the nearly completely sunken Quinjet. Melissa and Natasha pointed out the futility of attempting such a thing while the field was still in place, and received a grumbled, "The Professor could have made it work..." in return.

"The Professor is a fictional character, the fuck if I'm going to be Maryanne to Agent Romanov's obvious Ginger, and we were never on a three hour tour, so you're analogy is completely shot there, Gilligan," Johnson countered. Barton flipped her off with a laugh but she took the detritus from his meal anyway and tucked it away to wherever they had decided to do so the night before.

Natasha stretched out slightly and dug her toes in the sand while she commented, "I would have placed Miko as Maryanne."

"Melissa as Mrs. Howell? Not sure if she'd like being paired with Curt that way," Clint countered. Then, with a smile, he added, "But Cap is totally the Skipper just, you know, not quite as old and out of shape."

Steve assumed that they were talking about another show again and that, more than likely, there would be a marathon viewing session of said show upon their return. He also assumed that the current topic of conversation had at least managed to get their minds off actively plotting and planning how they were going to send one of them, as it would no doubt be one of the three of them, off alone to try to reach help for the others.

Around midday the device went off yet again, this time the telltale whine warning the people working on it to take cover. Bruce commented that it appeared to be a weaker charge than the last so, perhaps, there was hope that it would eventually die down on its own and they would be free to contact SHIELD directly at that time. Steve trusted his word on that as, as far as his own enhanced senses were concerned, he was still slightly blinded and slightly deafened by his proximity to the blast. He knew based on their past experiences so far that it would fade soon enough, but it was still disconcerting to say the least.

It was because of this that he did not fully trust himself when, only moments later, an odd whine accompanied by a very precise bit of wind appeared on the far side of the shore. He swore the light bent and refracted just a little bit different, just for a moment, before the ground reverberated with a definite thunk.

"What the hell was that?" Clint demanded. He had his bow at the ready, a shot lined up to exactly where Steve had seen the a shape that clearly wasn't there only moments before.

Natasha had her guns out, but had not yet chosen a target. Bruce had ushered the other scientists behind himself and was clenching and unclenching his fists, clearly ready to transform. One such scientist had slipped free though, had simply ducked beneath Banner's outstretched arms and approached the empty space with the neatly flattened rocks and sand. She had her two sticks held in her left hand and a large rock in her right. She lobbed the rock forward, where it hit something with a definite metallic echo.

Miko nodded as if to herself, and then approached where the rock had fallen, sticks switched to both hands now as she ignored the call to stand back. She swiped outward with one and hit whatever it was that they could not see in a quick, precise pattern that Steve recognized from very many years prior.

"Kusanagi has apparently decided to greet our new invisible alien overlords with the time tested strains of Morse Code," Clint sighed.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and said, "I didn't know any of the cloaking prototypes were working yet, let alone through an EM field."

Kusanagi stepped back now, but notably kept her sticks at the ready. "We are either rescued, or will need to re-partition our food stores," she warned. She cleared an area several yards back from where she had struck, and simply waited.

Steve had to admit that he was not disappointed. There was a sliver of color that quickly grew into a much larger swath, revealing the inside of what was clearly a transport vehicle of some sort with four occupants within. All wore an approximation of a military uniform and three were armed with the fancy modern machine guns, while the fourth had something that approximated a pistol instead. That man was the largest of the three males and dwarfed the much smaller woman beside him. It was not him, but a man with a mop of unruly dark hair and a nameplate of "Sheppard" on his uniform that greeted the tiny scientist with, "Hey, Miko, who's your friends?"

She didn't actually answer him as she was too busy stepping forward into the arms of the other woman who first hugged her tightly and then lowered her forehead to touch Kusanagi's rather sand-ridden own in a greeting even Steve could tell was forged in some sort of tradition he was not privy to.

"Sheppard?" Barton asked, disbelief clear in his tone. He lowered his bow slightly, but did not un-knock the arrow.

The man with the hair waved back goodnaturedly. "You guys totally stole our pet scientist. I mean, yeah, we were stuck here for like a year or so and she signed all your fancy paperwork and stuff, but we'd love to have her back."

"Miko is one of the few people intelligent enough to understand my delicate experiments," a smaller, paler man with an unfortunate receding hairline commented.

"High praise indeed, Doctor McKay," Kusanagi replied with a subtle yet respectful bow.

The man fumbled for words, and rather talked over himself, but the first man spoke over him easily enough with, "So we might have possibly made a deal with your acronym-friendly organization, or at least the people of it who matter."

"You talked to Fury," Natasha guessed.

Sheppard beamed in response. "Got it in one. Anyway, we have the means to get you out of this EMP-riddled nightmare of a rescue op and he had the means to both tear up Kusanagi's contract and happen to look the other way when we pull something next week. He also gave us the coordinates to where some jackass named Ross has brought Doctor Z in for questioning."

"The idiot thinks the Cold War is still on or something and has gotten the fact that Zelenka's Czech confused with actual Russians - no offense there really gorgeous redhead that Sheppard has assured me is from the Land of Vodka and can kill me with your thighs - and it's so hard to find good minions and Radek is actually somewhat intelligent and I have it on good word no one here would actually mind if we were to actually damage the facility on the way out and-"

"That's a lot of 'ands' there, Rodney," Sheppard cut him off with a drawl, as if he was used to such rambling.

"It's a lot of stupid," McKay countered, which earned him nods all around. He then turned to Kusanagi and said, "The tearing up thing is totally voluntary and only if you want it. Which you probably do because of that earlier comment about being intelligent."

The smaller woman with darker skin, lighter hair, and exotic features from the foursome simply held up a hand and he stopped. "We are going home, and you are welcomed to join us should you so choose," she explained.

"Home?" Miko asked, and there was such longing in the word that it almost physically hurt to hear it.

Steve had no doubt the decision had already been made, even as Kusanagi looked between the foursome and the group she was currently stranded with. "So this rescue?" he prompted.

"Pack up your gear and head on in so we can head on out," Sheppard offered. "Any questions?"

Bruce raised his hand and asked, "Why is your transport cloaked? It seems an awful waste of energy and we're just going to see the inside anyway."

The big guy finally spoke, but only to say, "Because it's cool."

Sheppard shared a grin with him, but added, "Also, it's totally classified and you're not supposed to know about it at all. Plus, if there were any bad guys about, we'd totally have a tactical advantage what with it being invisible and everything."

"But it's not invisible? Not completely?" Bruce pointed out, and sounded almost apologetic doing so.

Sheppard looked personally offended by the accusation. "She totally is!"

Steve shook his head and found the action matched by Clint on one side and Bruce on the other. A quick glance at the others showed that the fancy cloaking-whatever seemed to actually work on them, but that they were in no way surprised it was not a hundred percent thing for certain members of their temporary team. Clint, of course, had to prove his point by firing two arrows in quick succession, one which clanked off the protective shell of whatever the transport was and one that landed close enough to the protective field as to turn half invisible itself.

"Okay, fine. It's invisible for those of you without genetically augmented senses and/or freakish eyesight from birth, and I told you the Avengers wouldn't be impressed by a see-through ship McKay," Sheppard whined.

"They have a man who can fly," the big guy with the interesting hair now that Steve had a better view agreed.

"Two of them, technically," Clint pointed out. He spun a third arrow in his hands and earned more than a single wince from their supposed saviors for the effort.

"He defies the laws of physics with that thing," McKay griped. "The energy output for those repulsors, plus the tensile strength needed while still being mobile..."

"If you can get us out of here in the next fifteen minutes, I'll see if Stark will talk design specs with you," Natasha baited.

McKay barely paused to blink before he said, "Done. Conan, Xena, go help them and I'll see if we can block that device of theirs from firing again."

"You're not taking it back to their helicarrier, Rodney," Sheppard warned and Steve was glad for it. The last thing they needed was for them to bring a potentially damaging device to a possibly already crippled ship.

"Speaking of defying physics..." McKay began, but was thankfully silenced by the larger man pulling him forward by his tactical vest to go help the others.

Sheppard walked with them and Steve used the opening to search for news. "Is the carrier still airborne?" he asked.

Sheppard nodded and grabbed one of the containers of supplies. Steve hefted another three to an appreciative nod from the guy, but waited for him to expand upon the simple answer that already had released a pressure in his chest he had been fighting with since their untimely landing. "Stark was able to disable the missile, but at least three of those Quinjets of yours had something similar to what you found. One was lost completely, one crashed about fifty miles north if here but the occupants were fine. I'm guessing they found the mole on that one because there was one pissed off woman who had hogtied a guy in a way that made Teyla proud. There's a team working on disabling the devices but no go yet."

"Somehow I feel better that a fully equipped lab hasn't been able to do what we failed at," Bruce spoke to the world around him.

Sheppard handed his box off to the big guy from his own team and said, "Doc, you at least got the pretty blue light to turn off. You had what, a spare tool set? Some concussed minions? You're already one up on them."

The banter continued, even after they all filed in to a not-so-large space. They managed to keep Bruce and his claustrophobia nice and calm with a combination of jokes and hints at technology that was far beyond what had already impressed Steve upon his waking in this new age. Clint, of course, wanted to see how they flew whatever they were in. Natasha, of course, wanted to see the custom made weapon the big man, who he now learned was called Ronon and not actually Conan, carried up close and personal. She explained her own arsenal to an appreciative audience, while Aelin and Johnson tried to quiz Kusanagi on just what she did in the past and what she would undoubtedly be doing in the near future.

Tony was more than willing to talk shop with McKay after verifying that his teammates were alive and well, and Clint was more than willing to show the remainder of Sheppard's strange team to the shooting range after a quick wash up just so that they could see the various weaponry in action. Steve had a feeling Clint was going to pester Tony to make him a special gun of his own, but was proven wrong when Natasha beat him to it by subtly hinting that perhaps McKay had been able to design such a thing and, really, Tony wouldn't want to be outdone by him, now would he?

For himself, he happened to watch while one Miko Kusanagi's records were systematically deleted from all but likely the highest of clearances, and again while certain data regarding a certain General Ross just happened to be left out while Sheppard, who was apparently a Colonel himself, was wandering around. He was in no way surprised to hear about a tactical hit on a base rumored to be in use by the good general, just as he was in no way surprised to find absolutely no trace of anyone by the names of Kusanagi or Zelenka within three days of that unfortunate attack. The general demanded to know what SHIELD knew of such things and Fury and Hill demanded to know what he knew of EM fields and suddenly there were no more demands at all, though there was a mild celebration regarding Aelin and Johnson's new security clearance levels that may have coincided with an informal going away party as well.

Instead, Steve watched a news feed about a strange sort of tsunami hitting the west coast and swore he saw the same hint of a glimmer as he had seen on the beach hover above the helicarrier for the briefest of moments before it faded into the glow of the sun itself.

The following morning, Natasha gestured to the latest theories on the strange tidal wave and asked, "So, what do you think they meant by home?"

He took the cup of coffee that she offered and watched Clint down a much larger mug of the same while he queued up some show about castaways. Bruce and Tony were arguing over a schematic of something that he could only describe as explosive and neither needed nor wanted to know more about quite yet, and there was a rumor that Thor would be returning before the week's end. "I don't know," he said honestly. "It can mean so many different things," he smiled.

Somewhere, possibly very far away, he felt as though the sentiment was shared.

End.

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