Family Legacy - seikaitsukimizu - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Phase I: Clint Barton

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Living in Stark–Avengers Tower wasn’t the end-all be-all for Clint. Sure, he had a room bigger than anything he ever could afford in Manhattan, and sure the entertainment systems were beyond top of the line, and sure, there were five chefs on call 24/7-

What point was he trying to make?

Right. Avengers Tower. Wasn’t the best in the world. Seemed the best, had good perks. What was the best though? The coffee.

Stark had built an industrial coffee maker after Thor literally out drank the brewing speed of the top-end model previously installed in the kitchen. Clint being deprived of coffee was a crime against nature. Stark deprived of coffee was apocalyptic. Stark coming out for coffee to discover Thor had literally drunk a month’s worth of the precious nectar?

Words were thrown. Weapons were drawn. Captain America’s shield might have been brandished to ward off an explosive fight like in the forest when they first met.

Clint kind of regretted he’d missed that event.

Suffice to say, once things settled down Stark had taken on the challenge and built a new idol to the god of caffeine. Forget five gallon-per-hour brewing machines, this baby could chug through a gallon-per-minute. Or something. He doesn’t actually remember the details. What he knows is that there’s a sh*tton–actual measurement–of coffee beans loaded daily and it doesn’t matter who’s been mainlining, the wall-mounted gold and red plated brewer will fill his carafe whenever he sticks it in the machine in the time it takes for him to realize he hasn’t put on pants. Again.

There’s a blur of dark hair and grump crowded by the coffee machine this morning, along with an awkward silence from the other blurry Avengers. Whatever. Coffee first. Situation second.

He stands beside Stark and waits as the machine percolates its next brew. He sets his sadly empty carafe on the counter, next to a mug twice the size of his hand, which is lined up next to one of Stark’s Iron Man mugs.

Ugh. Third in line.

Wait.

He counts. Him. Short guy next to him. Stark next to short guy.

He’s not next to Stark.

There’s a stranger in the Tower.

There’s a stranger after his coffee.

As the world’s greatest marksman, top-level SHIELD agent, and Avenger, he’s able to succinctly and summarily expose this with a grunted, “...huh.”

Stark responds with a bleary, “Coffee.”

The stranger slumps forward with a yawn. “Takes too long.”

“So, uh,” Bruce Banner’s voice filters through Clint’s consciousness, “are we just…ignoring the teenager in the room?”

There’s a hiss from the coffee maker and Tony slides his mug beneath the spigot, letting the sensor trigger to fill his cup. “Usually best,” he mumbles, “kid’s a smartass.”

“Love you too, Uncle Tone,” the stranger snarks back.

Uncle? Clint blinks slowly, and forces himself to articulate. “Uncle?”

Tony slides his cup back and the teen slides his–let’s face it, bowl–beneath the machine with one hand. With the other, he waves vaguely towards Stark. “Godfather.” He indicates himself. “Godson.” He waves towards the machine. “God.”

Tasha never lets her guard down enough to be so inelegant as to snort, but his ears pick up the inhale that indicates if she was that sort of person, she’d have snorted at that remark. “Now I see the family resemblance.”

“Rude,” Tony has turned towards the room, sipping his coffee and eyeing the occupants. Clint remembers a Banner blur, Tasha’s red hair, and either a Thor or Steve Rogers blond blob by the toaster. Given New Mexico his money is on Thor.

“And what is your name, Starkson?” Yup, definitely Thor.

Stark chokes on his coffee while the kid thunks his head against the–must be burning, actually–coffee machine and groans. “Too early for this sh*t,” he mumbles, then more loudly he answers with, “Danny.”

“Well met, Danny!”

The sound of flowing liquid finally tapers off and the teen–Danny–slides his cup away. He downs half of it in one go. Cint gives him serious props for that. It has to be scalding. The kid’s got adult-level coffee callouses. Definitely a Stark.

Clint puts his carafe in and waits for his four cup-size jar to be filled.

Stark finally stops his flailing and glares at Thor. “Look what you’ve caused, kid. ‘Stark’s son.’ Somewhere Pepper just had a heart attack and urge to kill me all at once. Don’t use those words,” he directs at Thor.

The laconic smirk on Danny is remarkably similar to Stark’s. “S’true, though.”

Stark points at him. “Nuh uh! What’s the one rule?”

“Don’t kill yourself in the laboratory. Again.” Stark and Danny share a commiserating look at that. Then there’s an amused, tired huff from Danny. “We don’t talk about who great-grandpa Stark banged.”

The look on Stark’s face is horrific enough to actually break through and make a laugh escape from behind Tasha’s hand.

Clint assumes the teen takes that as a victory because he starts heading towards the elevator. “Gonna finish my laundry. You still taking that flight tonight?”

Stark’s face is still a mixture of distaste and disgust. “Maybe if I can bleach that phrase-”

“Great. If I don’t catch you before, thanks for the weekend getaway.” He’s almost at the elevator when it opens and Steve Rogers steps out in running gear.

It’s not even sweat soaked, the bastard.

Danny stops in his tracks and stares at the embodiment of America.

Rogers stops and stares at the strange teen. He glances around the room, sees the amusem*nt and non-hostility, and smiles gently. “Hello, I’m Steve-”

“Nope!” Danny slips around the man and into the elevator. “JARVIS, room now please.”

The door slides closed just as Rogers is twisting to look over his shoulder. Danny’s gaze is distinctly not on the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. Stark seems to have composed himself a bit as he pulls Clint’s carafe out–”Hey!”--and sticks his own cup underneath to refill it.

When Rogers turns around, his brow is furrowed in confusion. “Did I miss something?”

“Not that I saw,” Tasha comments, and Clint recognizes the calculating look on her face. She’s trying to solve a new puzzle. It’s not even a bet that Danny’s entire life history will be researched before the end of the day.

“Don’t take it personally, Capsicle.” Tony removes his mug and sips at it.

“Kind of hard not to with a reaction like that,” Rogers walks towards the sink, grabbing a glass to fill with water.

“It was strange,” Bruce adds, “but no more than having a…cousin?”

“Who knows,” Stark shrugs off. “Look, during Cap’s little war-”

“World War Two,” comes Rogers’ exasperated voice.

“Dad spent a lot of time having…fondue.” Another look of disgust as Rogers chokes after taking a drink. “One of them wrote after the war, some nurse, who didn’t want to marry him, but wanted his kid taken care of. Dad bought them a nice home in some Midwest nowhere and the Starks have kept in touch.”

“So a nephew,” Thor concludes.

“Godson,” Stark snaps back. “They’re not Starks.”

Rogers frowns. “Tony, family is-”

“It’s their choice.” Stark’s voice is hard and icy. “They don’t want the affiliation or attention. And Danny’s off limits. Kid’s got enough trying to get through college. Doesn’t need some superheroes in his life.”

Clint can hear the raised eyebrow in Tasha’s, “You’re a superhero.”

“More. Doesn’t need more superheroes in his life.”

Rogers is still frowning. “Is there anything-”

“Nope.” And in a familial parallel, Stark slips around Rogers and into the elevator. “Lab, JARVIS.”

“Of course, sir,” comes the British voice from the ceiling as the doors close.

There’s a moment of silence, interrupted by Clint slurping his coffee.

What? Coffee’s important.

“I just…what’d I do?” Rogers sounds lost.

“He’s a teenager,” Banner’s voice is comforting. “Sometimes they just don’t like authority figures.”

“If he’s a Star–related to Stark,” Tasha corrects herself, “he definitely doesn’t.”

“I’m not that authoritative.”

Clint snorts, then curses as coffee burns up his nose. Tasha doesn’t even look at him while holding out a napkin.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Banner finishes.

Clint sits down beside Tasha and continues to drink his morning caffeine fix. So Stark has a kid that’s family and doesn’t want them involved in this life. He can respect that. God knows he has his own family secrets he keeps to himself. He exchanges a glance with Tasha. She’ll still investigate, but she’ll also see the parallels. She’ll keep Stark’s secret.

And so will he.

Chapter 2: Phase I: Natasha Romanoff

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Typically, research is an easy thing for one Natasha Romanoff. Between the resources at SHIELD and now with access to JARVIS–not to mention her own personal networks–finding information on a civilian target should as easy as breathing.

“I’m afraid Mister Stark has made all of these files confidential.”

She isn’t surprised by JARVIS’ statement. She’s still trying to get any data besides his first name. Danny is likely a nickname of Daniel, but it might not be. Stark isn’t the last name, but what it might be is a mystery as the files are exceptionally well encoded. She can’t even get a still-shot of him in the kitchen or elevator. “Not even a hint, JARVIS?”

“I’m afraid sir is quite adamant about access to his godson’s information.”

“Any particular reason?”

“The respect of privacy.”

The fact that she can hear JARVIS, a computer program, wince at the hypocrisy makes her lips turn up in a grin. She could override those privacy protocols, but Stark would know. And after Clint, well, she knows when to push and when to leave well enough alone.

Appear to, anyways. “I suppose that’s fair enough.” She discontinues her search, even though she’s pretty sure JARVIS knows that’s a lie. He’s a very perceptive AI. “If anyone asks, I’ll be out for lunch with a friend. Don’t let Clint get stuck in any vents.”

She can also hear the silent confusion at her statement. JARVIS would learn. They all would. Her little hawk has some unusual coping habits. Effective, but unusual.

She takes a stroll not too long after that, going to a safe-house just beyond the damaged zone from the attack on New York by Loki. She’s actually amazed it survived, even more so that Clint hasn’t opened it to refugees of the attack. Then again there are three others nearby, maybe he knew to leave this one accessible.

Neither of them liked not having an escape route.

While JARVIS had secured Danny’s files, she’s pretty sure SHIELD’s would be more successful. What she hadn’t counted on was Stark taking that into account, and using his little hacking ingress to do the same there. Oh, she had assumed that he’d altered or updated some files. But a civilian’s file? Why would Stark care about a random civilian?

Except this isn’t a random civilian. And knowing Stark, it isn’t just Danny’s file. There could be dozens to hundreds of civilian files altered just to cover his tempering of this one.

Fury wasn’t going to be happy about this.

Social media isn’t much use either. There are thousands of variants of the name Daniel in New York alone. Given Stark she assumes the kid uses social media, but there’s no guarantee Danny would be using his name. And without an image for a system to search for, she’ll have to go through millions of pictures.

A needle in a haystack.

She takes the tablet and moves over to the couch to recline there. Stark said he was in college. That could narrow her field from millions to only a few thousand. How many Daniels could there be within travel distance of the Tower? With the construction and damage and roads still being rebuilt?

More than she’d like, but it’s still a smaller haystack than the entire state. She sets up an algorithm, narrowing down first name, age range–teen, maybe early twenties–and gender. Not all of the colleges itemized eye or hair color, and while they did document race demographics, students could opt not to identify.

Her search of thousands narrows to hundreds, then further to one-hundred forty-six. It’s a post-terrorism world, which means every name has a photo ID linked to it. They’re not the best, but they definitely make her line of work easier. She hones it down to five individuals. All with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. One of the photos is more blurred than the rest, as if the camera was out of focus.

Sometimes this work isn’t just about precision. Sometimes it’s gut instinct.

The name next to the slightly blurry photo is Daniel Fenton.

He’s in NYU’s astronomy and cosmology program, the civilian way to potentially reach space. He has top notch marks in engineering and programming skills, but is otherwise an unremarkable student. 3.6 GPA, apartment nearby, and originally from…an apartment in New York City. She knows that address, mainly because it’s where she’s staying with the Avengers.

Apparently Stark is doing more than just offering a weekend getaway from studies. Interesting.

There’s almost nothing else on him. No sign of extra-curriculars like sports or theater or political activism. He doesn’t even have a personal social media account, from what she can tell. That said, now that she has an image she can search around and see if he’s in others’ accounts. It takes about thirty minutes but what she finds is he’s often connected with his two friends and…sister.

Jasmine Fenton.

Unlike Danny, she’s on SHIELD’s radar for entirely different reasons. Accepted at Yale by age 16, Completed undergrad by 20, currently studying at Stanford getting a double-masters in Sociology and Psychology. She’s on the short list to recruit come graduation, hopefully for profiling international targets. That she’s part of the college's marksmanship and martial arts clubs doesn’t hurt, either. A quick perusal shows she’s won awards in both.

There’s also a footnote that she’s also currently president of the university’s occult studies club.

That peaks Natasha’s interest. What would a woman like Jasmine Fenton want or need with supernatural superstitions? Why lead it? Reading further, she sees that part of Jasmine’s bonafides are that she’s from Amity Park, Minnesota.

Bingo.

She redirects her search. Amity Park, Minnesota, the most haunted town in America, with ghosts going back to the colonial pre-settlement era. It has a higher-than-average federal subsidy for infrastructure, and from all appearances is a tourist trap close enough to the big cities for a day trip but unremarkable enough to fly under everyone’s radar.

It is also home to a company called Fentonworks, operated by Jack and Maddie Fenton, Ecto-ologists and Ghost Hunters.

Natasha’s eyebrows raise. Well, Jasmine certainly kept that bit of her history well out of the spotlight. Her parents’ work is the sort of pseudo-scientific junk that makes people believe aliens built the pyramids and there’s a secret civilization beneath the ocean. Except it’s about ghosts.

From a quick perusal of their financials, though, their main source of income is engineering patents. Small things, everyday components that factories and systems worldwide use. They could be coasting, really, based on their income, and instead spend it on ghost hunting.

She internally scoffs. The things idle rich Americans waste money on.

So why is Jasmine Fenton even associated with the occult currently, given how she ran away from it?

She puts that mystery on the back burner. She has two subjects: Madeline and Jack Fenton. Their engineering skills certainly point to a Stark heritage in at least one of them. Danny probably inherited it too.

Both parents are from, as Stark put it, ‘Midwest nowhere’ in log cabins. Madeline has a sister, Alicia, a farmer. She also has red hair and a strange eye-color mutation. She rules that side of the family out for now. Jack, on the other hand, shares the same dark hair and eye color as Tony Stark. And his mother…was a nurse at the local hospital, noted for keeping it in the family by working alongside her mother; Jack’s grandmother.

She can feel a triumphant little grin sneak onto her face.

Connie Louise. Married to Noah Fenton. Both originally from the Northeast, Connie in New York City, and Noah from Salem, Massachusetts. She can’t find any reason they moved to Illinois, or any ties between Noah and Howard Stark.

Connie, on the other hand, was a nurse overseas. In fact, Natasha is surprised to find she was stationed at the same base Captain America returned to with the missing 107th Infantry division.

She leans back against the edge of the couch.

Danny’s great-grandmother knew Captain America.

That put this morning’s interactions in a new perspective, not to mention the connection to Howard Stark.

What stories did Danny’s father hear growing up about Captain Rogers? What was passed on to Danny? Was there something in there she–or Howard Stark–had imparted that Danny was afraid to reveal? Or was it something as simple as meeting his great-grandmother’s crush?

Granted, she has no proof of the latter, but she’s seen the man naked, and it wouldn’t surprise her one bit.

Or is it more sinister? She narrows her eyes. Danny’s eyes were a remarkable shade of blue. Granted, the Starks also had blue eyes, but Danny’s didn’t quite match Tony Stark’s. They were closer to Steve Rogers, really.

And Connie had dark hair…

This would require a more primary source of information. Unfortunately, she can only think of one she can currently access.

She sighs and shuts off the tablet. Steve Rogers is so prone to blushing, and probably won’t be thrilled at her questions. If there’s even a chance, though, that Danny is actually his great-grandson…

The other option is a DNA test, but she knows if she tries Stark will come after her. He’s done everything he can to hide the truth about Danny. And DNA tests always require materials, records, sometimes the confidence of someone. JARVIS if she used anything in the Tower, SHIELD if she used any of their facilities.

She’ll make that her fallback. Steve first.

After all, it’s entirely possible she’s jumping to conclusions.

Chapter 3: Phase I: Tony Stark

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Tony can feel the questions burning in people’s eyes. From Thor to Bruce to Steve. Not Natasha, though he knows she’s trying to figure it out and, surprisingly, not from Clint at all. Though maybe without coffee nothing of this morning registered.

He’s been there. So been there.

It’s his own rule, though. He doesn’t talk about Danny. Pepper only learned about him when she thought he’d kidnapped a teenager. Granted, Danny had been crying at the time about wanting to go home and looked like sh*t so he couldn’t exactly blame her for jumping to the wrong conclusion.

She’s kept to the rule, too. Though he knows the kid tends to take meals with her. Which he’s totally okay with. Really. He’s only a little hurt that Danny didn’t want to spend time with his cool godfather when he was hungry. At three in the morning. When Danny was fast asleep.

…okay, maybe Pepper makes Danny take meals since she eats regularly and knows he doesn’t. And Tony won’t listen most of the time when she asks him to join her and maybe it’s his fault he misses those meals but really, the next suit won’t design itself, and now he’s got the whole team to help equip because by god, Agent. That suit. That Captain America suit, seriously?! No, he can do Rogers better even if he hates those perfect teeth of his.

The point is, if he could, he never would’ve exposed Danny to his team, or his team to him. It was just a bad confluence of the coffee maker in Danny’s room blowing up. Not Tony’s fault. The kid had a nightmare and lashed out and Tony gets that, he so gets that; but it meant when he finally was ready to face the day he needed caffeine and instead of going out or to the Tower cafe or–

It was bad luck. So now he has Thor pondering about his ‘nephew,’ Bruce wanting to ask questions, and Steve confused.

Tony can’t blame him for that, either. Steve’s not working with the full equation. It’s only because of a DNA test that he and Danny even know the truth. And the truth hurts. Tony knows that as fact. The truth has brought nothing but pain to Danny’s life so of course they both decided to just hide behind the family lie.

Howard’s lie.

Howard’s very good lie.

It wasn’t even a scandal, that’s how common it was.

Tony grew up knowing Jack Fenton, of course. They met twice, once when they were really young and once when Jack was talking on and on about a ghost haunting him. Tony had been just entering MIT and couldn’t believe this fellow teen obsessed with ghosts. And wanting to become an expert in studying them? Oh, how he scoffed.

If he knew then what he knew now…okay, he’d still scoff. Then maybe try and talk some sense into the man. He probably wouldn’t succeed. He wasn’t very eloquent then. Or sober.

So with questions burning and the Red Menace undoubtedly trying to dig up Danny’s history, he retreats to his lab to work on tweaking his repulsor efficacy. He may or may not fall asleep with his head plastered to the gauntlet stand for six hours, but it’s his word against JARVIS and his AI won’t talk.

Except to Pepper. And Danny. And probably Natasha.

Hrm. Maybe he can delete the footage of him waking up screaming about a strange hand on his face.

His protein shake is more sludge than shake but if it means skipping seeing those questioning eyes again it’s the better alternative. He can always pick up burgers while he’s out flying. Actually, “JARVIS, let the usual place know. Burgers for me and the kid.”

“Very good, sir. What time would you like to pick them up?”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 8 at night.”

He shrugs. Good enough. “Might as well start the test flight now. Casper’ll catch up.”

“Should I let him know you’re going out?”

“I’ll buzz his window.”

There’s an inaudible sigh. “He hates when you do that.”

“All the more reason, J. All the more reason.” The Mark IX suit is more streamlined, missing Iron Man’s usual bright colors. It’s actually inspired by Danny, a bit more of a stealthy option. It’s not really for him, but he thinks Rhodey will appreciate having a discrete suit when he’s out and about. It’s all dull black and industrial gray.

Boring, but if he’s right about thirteen-percent faster, forty-percent quieter, and only six-percent less deadly. No missiles designed to take out tanks in this model. Maybe he can install a couple small mines. Explosives to put in strategic locations or drop on pursuing enemies. Nothing large, just flat, elegant, and excessively destructive.

Just because he’s out of the weapons business doesn’t mean he can’t come up with some good ones for his best friend out there defending the world. And for his own use here and there.

If only he could actually produce some invisibility to make it a real stealth suit. Launching from the platform, he skims across the surface of Danny’s windows before flying directly to his favorite Burger King. He’s considered asking Danny for ideas on invisibility, but the one time he actually did ask some technical questions on ghost powers the look of betrayal he got–not to mention the month of silent treatment–makes him very wary of asking again.

JARVIS, as usual, has alerted the fast food joint to his arrival so Tony only has to fly by a dedicated drive-thru window to grab his bag from the waiting employee. He’s on his way back to higher rooftops when his suit registers a cold spot just over his back. “Thermal sensors are working, thanks for the test.”

“You know if my windows were frosted they’d have shattered,” comes an echoed, disembodied voice not belonging to JARVIS.

“Then don’t frost your windows.”

“Not like I always have a choice,” is the petulant reply. “Unlike someone.” There’s a distinct poke against his shoulder. Through the armor and directly against his flesh.

To think he’d used to find that disconcerting. Now it’s just a comfort to know the kid’s there. “You make it so easy.”

“If I didn’t respect JARVIS so much I’d haunt your Tower.”

“You saying you like my AI?”

“Just give me my burger.” Tony holds out the bag and the sensors register some weight being removed. “And yes. Did I tell you Tucker has an absolute crush? He wants to date JARVIS.”

“I’m afraid to say I’m not interested in dating at this time,” JARVIS contributes through the suit’s speakers, “but the attention is flattering.”

“Eh. He’ll find another AI eventually.”

“I could make him-”

“I will ice your boots, don’t you dare.”

“This material can withstand the cold of space.”

There’s a suspicious quiet, then, “You know that icing problem GOES-13 had?”

Tony glances as JARVIS pulls up the info for him. GOES-13 was a geostationary weather observation satellite that had unexpectedly frozen solid and broken down. It shouldn’t have been possible, and current theories involved random comet fragments. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to but, uh, ghost ice is colder than space.”

“That’s pretty amazing. I mean, trashing a multi-billion dollar satellite, not cool-”

“Technically, too cool.”

“Space-case…”

“Blame Technus! He tried to take it over!”

“Why would he-” Tony doesn’t sigh, just shakes his head. “I guess it was a good thing GOES-16 was almost finished at the time.”

“Yeah,” there’s a sheepish admission in his tone.

“Let me guess: you were talking about GOES-16 and Technus decided to check out one in orbit.”

“You’re way too smart for a man in a tin suit.”

“Excuse you, iron suit.” Tony levels off and lands atop Rockefeller Plaza. No spotlights up top tonight, but some people will undoubtedly have noticed his trajectory. Fortunately, Iron Man hanging out atop random buildings isn’t so unusual anymore. He takes a seat on the edge and lifts out his own burger from the bag as the face-plate retracts. “So how’s it really going, kid?”

“Ugh. Tucker keeps asking when I can play DOOMED again and Sam wants to know if she can visit.” He materializes sitting beside Tony, legs kicking back and forth as he looks across the city.

“I mean, the city only shut down for about a week-”

“Doesn’t mean it’s safe.” Danny snaps, then shuts his eyes and lets out a long breath, “It’s my problem, not hers,” he mutters. When he opens them, the neon green gaze is distant. “I’m working on it. With Jazz.”

“How’s she?”

“Kicking ass, taking names, making fools of the local ghost hunters.” He offers a one-shouldered shrug. “Same ‘ole.”

Tony takes another bite of his burger. Lets himself debate internally, then swallows and says, “Jack asked after you this time.”

Danny’s eyes shut for a completely different reason, and his hands clench against the edge of the building. “If I’d gone evil and tried to kill you yet?”

“Nothing like that, more how you were.” Danny shakes his head. “I think he’s coming around.”

“Did he offer you something to help get the ghost-half gone?” At Tony’s silence, he lets out a bitter laugh. “Same old dad.”

Tony knows that feeling, and he shifts over to nudge Danny’s shoulder with his own metallic-covered one. “At least he’s reaching out. He’s trying.”

“f*ck him,” Danny shoots back venomously, then more quietly, “thanks for mediating.”

“They’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. If they tried half of what I suspect-”

“Don’t.” Danny turns his head away. “Just don’t…don’t. It’s not your fault.” A second later he whispers, “It’s not my fault either.”

Tony doesn’t hug. He’s just not a hugger. He’ll likely never know exactly what happened with the Fentons. He suspects if he did he’d go full Avenger on Jack and Maddie. That’s not what his godson wants or needs, and it’s one of the few times in his life he’s ever listened to someone else. Partially because at the time he was in shock, discovering his godson was a half-ghost with powers. And partially because sh*tty parents? Yeah, he gets sh*tty parents, and sometimes outsiders just make it worse.

Deciding to change the subject, Tony finally asks the big question. “So where were you? Not stuck in class, given your history.” When Danny looks at him, Tony indicates the Tower and the area around it. “Big wormhole opens up, you don’t come flying in to save the day?”

Danny scowls. “I go to the Ghost Zone for Spring Break. Five days, Tony. Five days and you let aliens invade,” he grumbles. “Never going on vacation again.” There’s a pause, and then another tightening of his grip against the building. “Would…would you have wanted me there?”

“You’re a hero, kid. We needed all boots on the ground. I was actually kinda worried when you didn’t show up.” Tony tilts his head. “Or is this like when I got kidnapped and you couldn’t help?”

Danny grimaces. “I really, really shouldn’t have told you that. And, uh, maybe?” He reaches up and scratches the back of his head. “Cl–a friend could’ve told me. They’re…really tuned in to world events. That he didn’t probably means that…that yeah.” Another long sigh. “All is as it should be.” The tone was both relieved and bitter.

Tony still doesn’t understand how Danny can know if and when something should happen. He’d asked, one drunken night before he realized he was poisoned by his arc reactor, why the ghost kid with powers couldn’t save him in the desert. And Danny had looked at him in such a broken, tortured way as he explained sometimes he couldn’t change things or interfere; that sometimes the best timeline came from the worst events.

It was the voice of experience and dread and utter grief that broke through Tony’s alcohol-induced malaise and he actually did hug Danny that night. He threw up on him right after, but for a good twenty or so seconds he was as tactile and touchy-feely as his godson needed.

He wishes he could do it again, but it’s really, really not his thing.

Finishing his burger, he crumples the trash into a ball and tosses it into the air. Danny blasts it with that eerie green ecto-blast of his, leaving less than ash. “Good shot.”

“It’s wrong to litter.”

“Speaking of bad PSA’s, you gonna tell him?” Danny raises an eyebrow at that. “The good Captain.”

Danny turns his attention down to the street. “Not like it matters, Tony. You’re still my uncle.”

“Yeah, yeah, godson of the year, whatever.” Tony stares at Danny’s profile. “Do you want to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t. But I still kind of want to punch his face in every now and then.”

“Right? Like, he’s so perfect just ‘cause he used magic steroids.”

“See, this? This is why you’re my favorite.”

“If I’m your favorite, where’s my super suit?”

“After hearing about Technus I’m not letting you wear anything of mine.”

“Yeah, fair.” Danny kicks his legs again. “You haven’t answered the question.”

“Neither have you.”

Danny’s movements come to an eventual standstill, so still it’s like a corpse is sitting up. Finally, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to, but…he should know.”

“Then you should tell him.”

“What if he freaks out?” Danny hops up into the air, moving to float in front of him. “What if he doesn’t believe me? Or thinks I’m lying? Or…or what if he wants to get to know me, or spend time together?!”

“You sound more freaked out about those last two.”

“I don’t want Captain America as my daduncle!”

“Tell me about it,” Tony grins, leaning back. “All early morning runs and wholesome square meals.”

“I chose afternoon and night classes so I could sleep! I don’t want him showing up to go running! Or asking why I’m here, or who my parents are, or why-” He chokes and puts his face in his hands. “Ancients, what if he wants proof.”

“I’ve got proof.”

“Your proof-”

“Isn’t laced with ectoplasm. Remember? We did the test before you were 12.”

“Right.” His hands lower to cover his mouth. “Right. Normal DNA. Totally normal DNA from a totally normal kid with totally normal parents who are alive and hate him.”

Tony wants to reassure him that they don’t hate him, but he’s honestly not sure of Maddie’s stance. They still haven’t spoken since, well, since Danny escaped to live with him. “Totally normal DNA from a totally outstanding kid, and who cares about his parents?”

“Captain America will.”

“So don’t tell him.”

Danny stares at him, letting his arms fall as he repeats, “Don’t tell him.”

“Kid, other than today, you don’t have to see any of them again.”

“Unless there’s another crisis.”

“Then it’s Phantom meeting them.”

Danny gives him the stink-eye. “Black Widow will totally put two-and-two together.”

“So? That’s not the Captain.”

Danny’s legs merge together into that strange ghost tail, the one that gives him more speed. Tony’s been debating how to emulate that design in his suits. “I’ll…I guess that’s true I just,” he glances to the sky, “I need to think.”

“Whatever you need, kid.” Tony pushes himself off the building and activates his jets, making himself hover. “You know where to reach me.”

“Yeah,” Danny’s echo seems even more distant. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony’s face-plate slides back down. “Don’t mention it.” He watches Danny fly off, fading into invisibility, before turning and heading to the bay to continue his test flight.

Tony doesn’t talk about Danny, it’s a rule. But if Danny decides to let Captain America in on the secret? Maybe he’ll talk to Steve about him. Just a little, to try and mitigate the fallout.

He’s not about to let his godson down.

Chapter 4: Phase I: Steve Rogers

Chapter Text

Steve could already hear his mother giving him a tongue-lashing. Breaking and entering, shutting up the stool pigeon, lying to his–friends? Acquaintances?--and sitting in the dark to ambush a kid. A kid who obviously doesn’t want to see or speak to him.

A kid who can come and go as he pleases without anyone the wiser.

A kid who Tony Stark is oddly protective of because of Howard.

A kid who Natasha says had a great-grandma there when he rescued the 107th.

A kid he absolutely has to talk to before they’re gone from the Tower.

He’s still learning a lot about the 21st century and how things work. One thing he learned really early on is how much people underestimate him. Does he understand all the technological innovations made in this time? No. Does he know how to manipulate it? More than people think. Does he know how to break it?

He’s been breaking weird technology since he picked up the damned shield.

He feels a little bad, wondering if he’s hurt JARVIS, but he needs to speak to Danny alone, unsupervised, without anyone else eavesdropping.

He feels less bad about lying to Natasha, saying he didn’t know Connie at all; just another faceless nurse who didn’t clap at his stage show and helped the hundreds saved after the illegal mission.

She believed him. He can’t lie all the time, but on some things? Some things he can go to the absolute mats for. This is one of those things.

Of course he recognized Connie, in and out of uniform.

Just as she would recognize him before and after the serum.

What Natasha got wrong, though, was how that all tied together with Danny.

And that’s why he’s sitting in the dark facing the door, waiting for teen to enter the apartment.

Apparently he did too good a job, because he doesn’t even see the light from the hall or hear the door close when Danny enters. He only knows someone’s arrived because there’s a shush of carpet and light breathing. He’s already sitting up when something completely unexpected happens.

Danny spins to face him.

No, Danny spins and gets ready to fight, looking directly at him despite the lack of light.

There’s a lamp to his right, so Steve turns it on. For a moment he swears Danny’s eyes flash green, but that’s probably just his own eyesight adjusting to the sudden brightness.

They stare at each other for three, four heartbeats.

Then Danny huffs and puts his hands on his waist. “Get the hell outta my room!”

“I just-”

“Did you break in? Did you–JARVIS?” He scowls. “You broke JARVIS to break into my room?! What the f*ck?!”

“I need to know!” Danny keeps scowling, but doesn’t seem surprised by Steve’s outburst. Steve stands, hands practically sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. “Please, I just need-”

“To f*ck off, is what. My life is none-”

“Howard wouldn’t just pay off any dame, especially one in the family way-”

“Ancients!” He rubs a hand over his face. “I so don’t need this.” He starts stalking towards the kitchen.

“Your great-grandmother-” Danny’s gaze snaps to him, aflame with warning. “I knew her.”

“Yeah. You and hundreds of others.”

“I knew her because-”

“Did you seriously go digging into my life because I wouldn’t give you the time of day?!”

“I–No…”

Danny’s eyes narrow, then he shakes his head. “Widow. Told Tony she’d figure it out.”

“You know?!” He takes two stop forward only to halt at Danny’s wilting stare. There’s something commanding in those eyes.

There’s another thing: a confession.

“You know,” Steve starts more calmly, “that it’s not Howard who-”

“I know who my great-grandpa is,” Danny hisses. “He raised my grandpa and dad in a log cabin in Illinois, has a family history going back to the Salem Witch trials, and married great-grandma because she saved his life on the boat back from war.” He doesn’t step forward, but something about the teen shifts, and Steve can almost feel his presence looming over him. “He loved her and her kids and that’s all there is to it!”

It’s a singular truth, Steve knows, that he’s never been one to back down from a fight, even if it’s in his own best interest; especially if it is. Every signal from this teen is warning him off.

It’s his gaze, though. He’s seen those stormy blue eyes before and he knows he’s not backing down, not until he vocalizes the truth.

“He wasn’t your great-grandfather.”

As fast as Natasha the kid is leaning up in his face, hands fisted in his shirt. The snarl he lets out is almost inhuman, with what Steve would swear is a slight echo. “You’re making it real hard for me not to hit Captain America.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh. “Steve Rogers gets hit all the time.” There’s another dramatic pause, then with surprising strength Danny shoves him away. Steve actually stumbles back and catches himself on the edge of a couch.

“Yeah,” Danny mutters, not looking at him, “I know.” He glances to Steve, then all the fight seems to flow out of him, leaving nothing but weary acknowledgement. “I never knew her, but she told dad all about Steve Rogers getting beat up. And Captain America going to war to save his friend.”

He finally faces Steve with not anger, but resignation in his eyes.

Steve swallows. He recognized Connie Louise, because he’d been on a double-date with her at the Stark Expo. He recognized her at the camp, when he’d failed so hard on that stage. He recognized her because she was someone his best friend once used to feel human again after all that torture.

After an interminable round of silence, Danny whispers, “You can say it.”

“You can’t?”

“I know my family,” Danny replies, tone approaching normal. “I know there’s a whole branch that ignores us. I know that all they had was each other, and it didn’t matter who or how great-grandma got pregnant, Great-Grandpa Fenton was his dad.”

“And if you said it,” Steve answers slowly, “you’re admitting you’re not a Stark.”

“We know, both Tony and I. We just,” Danny shrugs, “what good is it to admit the truth?”

Steve takes a cautious step forward. “You can’t just ignore the truth. You have a whole family-”

“Who decided a pregnant, unwed woman could just as easily be lying to get in with a war hero’s family. She wouldn’t be the first. Wouldn’t be the last.”

And oh, does Steve not like the bitter taste that leaves in his mouth, to hear his friends, his family would be so callous. But maybe they had to be. Everyone knew who stood beside him for so long.

He takes another step forward. “Okay but,” he swallows again, “I could…I need…”

Danny’s gaze is far older than a teen’s should be. He looks deep into Steve, through Steve, and finally he lets out a groan. “You need me to say it, don’t you.”

“I just…I’m not insane, right? You are-”

“Yeah,” he lets out a sigh, shoulders drooping, “I’m Bucky Barnes’ great-grandson.”

There’s a pained sound that permeates the area, and it takes Steve a second to realize he’s the one making it. Another second and he’s reaching forward, to embrace Bucky’s family only to freeze as the kid flinches away.

“Sorry,” Steve croaks out, takes a deliberate step back, then another. “I’m,” he clears his throat, “I haven’t…had anything from then, any reminders that aren’t–and you have his eyes.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. He lets out a broken laugh. “No wonder you escaped this morning.”

“It’s not like I hate you,” Danny says, running a hand through his hair only to leave it on the back of his neck. “I just…I never cared…?” He winces again. “Stark’s or Barnes’ great-grandson…does it matter? Tony’s been here for me, but before that? It’s just been us Fentons.” Steve notes that he grimaces at that. “Not even then, sometimes.”

Steve hunches his shoulders. “So, uh…I guess I really screwed up.”

Danny glances at him, then drops his hand and looks to the ceiling. “Ugh, no. I was…was thinking about telling you.” His offers a half-smile. “I just…Tony didn’t care? But given what you’ve gone through I thought you’d-”

“Freak out,” Steve finishes, and they both chuckle awkwardly. “Yeah. I, uh…there’s not much that belongs–that I recognize.”

Danny squints at him at that, then seems to come to some conclusion because he lets out another groan, but this one sounds more annoyed than angry. “Okay,” he says, walking over to sit on the couch, he indicates the other side. “What do you want to know?”

Steve takes the offer and sits on the edge, clasping his hands together. “I…she obviously was loved and had a good life?”

Danny gets a faraway look. “Grandpa said great-grandma could move mountains. She opened and operated the first clinic, then hospital in their town; even though she was just a nurse. They had pictures everywhere in the cabin, and dad talked about her and her stories.” He waves loosely at Steve. “All about this hero with a shield.”

Steve smiles a bit at that. “And Bucky’s grands–your dad?” Steve registers the smile become less authentic almost immediately.

Whatever causes it doesn’t stop Danny, though. “He’s…okay, he’s a little crazy. He gets distracted easily, and has a huge obsession with fudge. He's a genius inventor, with dozens of patents. Not that he thinks about it, really. It's just problems to solve that end up helping companies everywhere.” He looks down at his hands, which have folded together. “He’s crazy strong, larger than most people, but he relaxes by knitting, and you’d never think with his hands–I could fit in them, when I was little.”

There’s a tinge of pain with the nostalgic tone. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” is the immediate reply, but Danny turns his head away. “He…we had a disagreement. A bad one. I’m…let’s just say if it wouldn’t cause a mess I’d probably be a Stark by now.”

Steve feels his insides go cold. Bucky’s grandson just tossed out their own child? Bucky would be spitting nails. He can feel his jaw clench, and something in his posture must change because Danny quickly turns to face him, hands waving. “No, no, whatever you’re thinking, no.”

“It’s not right-”

“It’s not your fight.” At the look Steve gives him, Danny rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, every fight is your fight but they don’t know Bucky is dad’s--the story is he’s descended from Howard Stark’s bastard kid and as far as he knows it’s true. He never asked Tony about the DNA results. And it’d…hurt him, to know.” He looks down. “We’re not--I--I don’t want to hurt him, Steve. I just, I’m living my life. I don’t need more complications.”

“Bucky wouldn’t-”

“Bucky’s not here,” Danny spits harshly, “and it’s not your right to speak for him!”

It’s a more devastating blow than any punch Danny could throw, and Steve can feel the blood drain from his face as he shrinks back at the accusation.

“sh*t, sh*t, sorry,” Danny’s voice is full of remorse. “I’m projecting my issues, sorry.”

Steve really doesn’t know what to say, so he just looks at Danny, trying to understand, trying to express everything through a wet glance..

Danny lets out another long breath. “I’m really sorry, Steve. I…that was beyond-”

“I know he’s dead,” he chokes out. For him it was months ago, not decades. He’s acknowledged that truth.

His heart doesn’t want to, but he does.

Danny looks even worse. “sh*t, it’s still recent for you.” His other hand reaches back to squeeze the back of his neck. “I knew I was gonna f*ck this up.”

Steve finally says, “I just want to help.”

“You can’t.” It’s blunt, but Danny keeps his voice gentle. “Tony’s doing what he can. You coming in with this news, it won’t do anything but confuse and hurt Jack. I know what they’ve done is wrong.” His hand falls back to his lap and he stares at it again. “I just want to be Danny Fenton, random kid, not long lost Stark or Barnes child.”

Steve slowly uncurls his body, though he can’t quite force himself to relax again. He’s going to feel echos from that emotional blow for a while. “You really don’t care, do you.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t need lineage to dictate anything. No expectations, no spotlight.” He finally looks at Steve again. “I get why you wanted–needed to know. But the truth is, Steve, even if I’m his great-grandson, I’m also really, really not.”

And Steve thinks he finally gets it. “You’re just Danny Fenton.”

Danny smiles at him. “Who occasionally bugs Tony Stark for coffee and laundry.”

Steve nods, because now he’s starting to understand why Tony insisted the kid wasn’t a Stark. Still, he can’t help but ask, “Can I know-”

“No.” The shutdown is swift, but again not unkind. “It’s not even something easy to understand.”

“I might.”

Danny looks at Steve again, with those suddenly old eyes, and after a minute offers a hesitant nod. “Yeah, you might.” He turns his gaze towards the window. “Doesn’t mean I’m…it’s not something I can talk about yet.”

“Except to Tony. Cause he’s family.”

Danny shrugs again. “He saw me at, uh, not my worst, but pretty close.” He shudders and closes his eyes. “Some of it came out. It’s not--don’t pursue this, Steve. In his memory, please. Just, just take with you that Connie was loved and had a family. No long lost Barnes heir, no random Barnes family issue.”

Steve hesitates. It’s not in him to back down, and what Bucky’s grandson did--it’s not something he can condone or easily leave alone.

“If not for him then for me,” Danny whispers, eyes still closed, “because I can’t handle more.”

It’s another singular truth that Steve Rogers knows, if anyone can get him to back-off or back down, it’s Bucky Barnes. But Bucky isn’t here, and his great-grandson is, asking him to do it not to save Steve’s skin, but to save his own.

Once Steve would do anything to avoid hurting Bucky.

He can definitely do the same for his kin.

“Can I,” he starts hesitantly, drawing Danny’s attention to him again, “can I ask Tony about you? Maybe…hang out?” Danny raises an eyebrow at the question in his tone. “Hang out,” he repeats, “next time you’re here?”

A small smile graces Danny’s face, and oh, Steve recognizes that grin, too. “Yeah. If I’m not swamped with schoolwork, I’ll give you a call.”

Steve offers his own small smile in return. “I suppose I’d better let you get to sleep, huh?”

“I’d be more worried about running, really.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Danny’s comment. “Running?”

“Steven Grant Rogers!” Tony slams open the door and Danny’s smile turns into a smirk. “What the f*ck did you do to JARVIS?!”

Chapter 5: Phase II: Thor Odinson

Chapter Text

“Doctor Foster?”

Thor doesn’t mean to swing around, putting himself protectively in front of Jane, but even with the Convergence done and the threat passed, he’s lost too much to risk losing what little he has left.

He releases the grip of Mjolnir in surprise when he sees Starkson–Danny in front of him, standing inside the door to their hotel room. They arrived in Amsterdam only this morning, and Jane wanted to take a few days to recover while SHIELD cleaned up London. From there, he’s not sure where they’re going. Lady Darcy is looking up new research sites, as Jane still declines to join SHIELD.

After the loss of the Son of Coul, he doesn’t blame her.

He had been considering proposing some time in New York, to see his Midgard shield brothers. Danny’s spontaneous arrival is either fortuitous or fated.

The Norns always did enjoy irony.

“Danny!” He grins and sweeps up the boy in a hug. Despite the muscles he feels far lighter than Clint, or even Tony. It’s a little worrisome, but Stark had said not to concern themselves with his godson. And the Man of Iron obviously loves his family and wouldn’t let anything untoward happen.

He squeezes Danny a little harder, thoughts of Loki and his mother flickering through, before letting him go.

Danny staggers at the sudden freedom, and even seems likely to tip over before he rights himself. “Yeah, hey Thor.”

“Ah!” He quickly turns and draws Jane forward. “This is whom you asked to see. The Lady Jane Foster, a font of wisdom and brilliance across the Nine Realms!”

She flushes beautifully before slapping her hand against his stomach. “Stop it, Thor.” She holds out her other hand. “Sorry about him.”

Danny laughs. “Yeah, I get it.” He hesitates at taking her hand, and Thor would be offended, but when he looks he sees Danny is not afraid or disgusted, but eager. “I’m really, really honored to meet you.”

Jane’s eyebrows raise. “You…are?”

“Of course!” Excitement laces his voice. “You’re the foremost astrophysicist on the planet! You proposed the theory of a correlation with Einstein-Rosen Bridges and weather anomalies–not a theory.”

“Well, yeah.” She tilts her head towards Thor.

“Oh, yeah! But I mean–uh, let’s say I have independent verification?” His other hand reaches up to rub the back of his head and he laughs nervously. “It’s kind of classified and I didn’t understand until you published it as an aspect of astrophysics and then it was just,” he waves his arm above his head, “it all made sense!”

His other hand, Thor notes, is still shaking Jane’s. She doesn’t appear disturbed or annoyed, if anything she seems amused. Thor smiles and steps back.

“And that’s before we even get to your theory of stellar forces impacting unusual bodies of–” He laughs again, more self-consciously as his cheeks turn…not quite red, almost a little green.

Thor tilts his head. He didn’t know humans could do that.

He finally withdraws his hand from hers. “I’m sorry. You must get this all the time. Especially now that there’s rumors of a Nobel in your future–”

“Wait, what?” Jane’s eyes grow wide. “Where’d you hear that?!”

“Ah!” The strange flush grows deeper, red now seeming to drown out the tint of green. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did! You totally–which theory-”

“Really, please,” he clasps his hands in front of him, “please. I could get into so much trouble.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “You have an inside source.”

He winces. “Kind of…?”

“Because you have independent corroboration about Einstein-Rosen bridges.”

Another nervous laugh as he takes a step back. “Oh Ancient’s, he’s gonna clock me.”

Thor frowns at that. “I will protect you, Danny.”

Another laugh, more strained. “Yeah, uh…about that. Thanks for dealing with that Convergence and stuff.”

Jane’s eyes narrow further and she lets out a hum. Thor knows that hum. She’s shelving the discussion to return to later. “Were you near the battle?” she asks lightly, letting him change the subject.

It doesn’t seem to make him relax, though. “Sort of. I, ah…” he looks between the two of them, looks up, looks down, looks out the window.

“Danny,” Thor steps forward, voice rumbling, “is everything okay?”

“Yes and no.” He glances up at Thor, then his eyes skitter over to Jane. “So, uh, hi.” He waves. “Danny Fenton. I’m studying astronomy and cosmology at NYU. I’m a huge fan.”

“No kidding,” she deadpans.

“And the biggest astronomical event to occur in five-thousand years? I mean, I had to check it out!”

Thor sees Jane tense at that, and it takes another second for the reason to register with Thor.

Jane hasn’t published anything on the Convergence yet.

So how does Danny know exactly how often it happens?

His hand slowly moves down to rest on the hilt of his hammer.

Danny either doesn’t notice or is unconcerned at the action. “And I mean, I may have, uh,” his hand returns to rest on the back of his head, “so, there was this portal…”

Jane eyes him warily. “Did you enter it?”

The arm behind his head twitches. “I mean, wandering into random portals is kinda my thing.” At their baffled look, he shakes his head. “Sorry, wrong crowd.”

Except it gives Thor pause. When they first met, Stark mentioned a rule, and Danny quipped about not dying in the lab. He presumed it was a reference to the blue heart within their mutual friend.

What if this Starkson has also experienced a traumatic near life-ending event?

“Anyways, I…may have fought some elves…?” He winces as his neck retreats towards his shoulders. His tone of voice turns high and strained. “And, uh, hopped worlds a couple times…?”

“Danny, that’s–” Jane starts, stops, opens her mouth, closes it, looks between him and Danny, then finally swipes her hands back and forth in front of her. “Not like I can lecture. I did the same thing.”

Danny perks up immediately. “Really?”

“Not that it was the smart thing to do.”

“Oh, yeah, totally, totally. But, uh,” and now the nervous look is back, “look, Thor, don’t be mad.”

Thor raises an eyebrow. “That you decided to fight against an enemy far greater than you that threatened this world?”

“What? Oh, no, that’s,” he waves the question away, “that’s just Tuesday.”

Thor doesn’t understand, but something flickers in Jane’s eyes. Ah, perhaps something from Earth’s culture then. He’s sure she can explain later.

“No, I, uh, I’m apologizing because.” He looks up again. “So, here’s the thing.”

He’s still looking up.

He also doesn’t finish his sentence.

So Thor looks up, as does Jane.

She gasps.

Thor feels his entire body go slack.

There’s a portal above Danny–which, come to think of it, explains how he got into their locked room. It’s the figure within the portal that has him stunned.

Because it is impossible.

He saw her fall.

He saw as the sword disintegrated her body.

All of Asgard mourned.

Loki mourned.

A slender hand reaches out, pink and whole, blue silk wrapped around it up to the shoulder, where it meets the edge of bronze armor.

Danny lifts his arm and, with her hand in his, steps back.

The woman floats gently to the ground, her blond hair no longer neatly braided upon her head but flowing up towards the ceiling–the portal–before gently wafting around her shoulders as gravity reasserts itself.

The portal, Thor distantly notes, seems to shrink to nothing with a green and purple spark.

The instant Danny lets go and she faces him, he’s taking a shaking step forward.

The woman smiles. “My son.”

“Mother!” He rushes over and crush her to his breast. He’s sobbing as her hands, her powerful, delicate hands are stroking his back; hushing him, soothing him. He looks at her, tries to speak, and can only choke.

Some Prince of Asgard he is, bawling like a child.

Her eyes, eternal wisdom and patience, seem to know exactly what he’s thinking. She merely kisses his brow and tucks his head against her neck.

“H-how–was that–that wasn’t a Convergence portal,” Jane’s voice is distraught, distant. “How did–that was–”

“Like I said, classified,” is Danny’s soft, apologetic reply.

Jane doesn’t even acknowledge him. “We saw her–she was killed!”

“I can’t explain it.” There’s a dramatic pause. “And neither can she.” Thor looks up at that, but Danny isn’t looking at Jane, or him.

He’s looking at his mother.

And his mother, his mother nods at his words. “I made a promise,” she whispers, “one the Norns witnessed.”

Thor finally leans away, wiping his tears with the back of his arm. He takes a deep breath, and though it rends his soul, he retreats from his mother’s hold so he can approach Starkson.

Danny looks up at him, eyes bright but wary. “It was just good timing.”

“We mourned.”

“There was…it’s only been five minutes.”

“For her. But not for you.”

Because Danny knew where to find him. Danny mentioned fighting the dark elves, and most of that occurred after the funeral. Which means for his mother it may have been five minutes, but for Danny...how long has he been fighting and searching for him?

“I got her to you as soon as I could,” he confesses.

Thor puts his hands heavily on Danny’s shoulders. “You have returned to me, to all of Asgard, one that…that could never be replaced. Our debt–my debt–is yours. If you ever need me, Starkson-”

“Oh Ancients, not that again.”

“-you have but to ask.”

Danny’s grin is a little weak as he shrugs. “Maybe I’ll let you handle the vortex next time.” Thor blinks, and again, Danny shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Danny.”

Thor immediately turns towards his mother as Frigga steps towards them. His hand reaches out unconsciously and she lets him take hers. “We both know what this cost you.”

Danny grimaces. “It was a worthy trade.”

“Was it?”

Danny looks down, then meets Frigga’s gaze. Thor can see that behind the young man’s eyes stands the spirit of a noble warrior and guardian. This isn’t some youth who’s made an impulsive decision, this is one who has seen death and come through stronger, willing to fight any and all who stand in his way.

It is the gaze that he has seen his own father wear before.

The Danny Fenton ne Starkson before him is no child; he holds the bearing of a king.

“All is as it should be.” There’s a tinge of echo on his voice, ringing with authority and certainty.

He feels Jane approach his other side, and he gently wraps his arm around her waist, both for comfort, but also for support. He needs the support for at Danny’s words Frigga, Queen of Asgard and the strongest, most powerful woman in the cosmos…bows her head in submission.

For an instant, the man standing there seems alien and terrifying, no matter that he doesn’t even reach Thor’s shoulders and is dressed in a hoodie and jeans.

The instant passes, though, and the eerie sensation with it. In his normal, gentle voice he says, “I’m just glad I could help.”

“As Thor said, all of Asgard is in your debt,” Frigga repeats.

Another nervous laugh, another hand behind his head. “Yeah, about that, uh…when you get back to Asgard, Frigga? Maybe take a close look at your husband. Things might not be what they seem.”

More cryptic words, but his mother seems to understand them.

Then Danny turns to Jane, and Thor can’t help but tense up. “It really, really was an honor to meet you. I, uh, I hope we can work together someday.”

And his Lady Jane, who saw the bridge between the stars on this primitive world before he arrived and showed him the strength of Midgardians, lets out an unladylike snort. “Are you kidding? When do you graduate? I’m pulling you as my new intern.”

Danny flushes again. “Oh! Uh, awesome? But not for, like, two or three years?” He shakes his head. “Jazz got all the brains. I’m kinda slow.”

“Bullsh*t. When we get back I’m sending Darcy to recruit you.”

Thor blinks and turns to face her. “When we get back..?”

She meets his look head-on. “You think you’re taking your mother home without me? Forget it. I can write my paper just as easily in your palace as I can here.”

Warmth fills him at those words. “We should bring Lady Darcy along as well! Sif looks forward to battling her in the mead hall!”

“Sounds like a plan. And Danny-” Jane turns back towards the teen only to blink. When Thor looks, where stood the man only a second ago is now nothing but air. “Where’d he go?”

Thor turns to look at the other woman in the room. “Mother?”

She smiles, but there’s a tinge of sorrow. “There was a price,” she says quietly, “and it means he won’t be coming to Asgard for some time.”

“What was it?” That's his Jane, ever fearless in her pursuit of knowledge.

Frigga, though, shakes her head before resting it against his shoulder. “Dear, we should hurry back.”

“Yes! Please, Jane, call on Darcy so that all of Asgard can rejoice!”

Jane wrinkles her nose at the unanswered question, but it melts into an easy smile. “You know she’s gonna tell off any assholes that stare at her chest.”

“And it will be the stuff of legends,” he cheers, bright with laughter.

His mother is back, and he is returning with his beloved to his home.

And in his heart, he mourns for Danny Starkson alongside Loki, for while he may not know the details, he heard the truth behind his mother’s words.

And he knows there is no kingship without sacrifice.

Chapter 6: Phase II: Sam Wilson

Chapter Text

There are two superheroes in his bedroom. Two superheroes that’re bloodied and bruised and at least one was limping earlier.

Sam knew trying to befriend Steve Rogers was going to land him in some sort of trouble. The man was a little sh*t while jogging, and he knew the stories of scrappy Steve Rogers before the serum–not that he changed much afterwards. Still, Sam figured he would be trying to break up bar fights or stopping him from diving into protests. Not, well, not this.

Mama always said the white boys just brought trouble to your home. He didn’t think she’d be right quite this literally.

Finishing up serving breakfast, he shakes his head. Man, he likes his house. He likes this neighborhood. But there’s no way this isn’t going to end up with him having to move. Or dead.

All of SHIELD on a manhunt for Captain America and he’s upstairs? Yeah, this is going to suck.

Steve and Widow–Natasha–finally join him in the kitchen. When the man sees the landline phone he pauses and stares at it.

“Steve,” Natasha says cautiously.

“We could call for backup.”

“Banner’s still MIA, I’m not sure where Thor is, and Clint’s still off-grid. And I’m not bringing him into this.”

“There’s Stark,” he replies defensively.

Sam snorts. “Random VA guy Steve Rogers met suddenly calls Tony Stark? Yeah, that won’t be a flare to SHIELD.’

Natasha’s nodding with his words. “They’ll be monitoring all communication to Malibu and the Tower. Not to mention after his surgery he’s not exactly in fighting shape.”

Steve looks pointedly at Natasha. “I was thinking more of calling someone who could reach him.”

“What, like that CEO? Potts?” Sam raises his eyebrow. “Still a red flag, man.”

Natasha, though, has her brow furrowed. She bites her lip. “Tony doesn’t want him involved,” she finally admits.

“Come on, we both know he’s got to be on the list. At the very least for visiting the Tower.”

“Stark’s made sure his name’s been scrubbed from any association with him, including in SHIELD’s servers.”

“Doesn’t mean Zola didn’t have it.”

Natasha doesn’t disagree, which makes Sam worry, especially since he thought Zola was dead back after World War Two. “Want to clue me in?”

“No,” they say simultaneously.

That’d be comical if it wasn’t a bit insulting. They dragged him into this. Still, someone has to be the voice of reason. “Hey man, if Stark is saying to leave someone out of this-”

Steve turns to him then. “He’s in danger.”

“So are millions of others,” Natasha counters.

“But calling him won’t alert SHIELD.”

Sam throws up his arms. “Who?!”

Steve grimaces. Sam knows that look; like he wants to answer but it’d be betraying a confidence. Sam’s made that look a few times himself. He waits patiently and just as it seems like Steve has finished his internal debate, Natasha says softly, “Stark’s godson.”

Okay, Sam had not been expecting that. Secret superhero sure, but a godson? He crosses his arms. “Kinda have to agree with the Widow, here. You wanna bring a kid into this?”

“He’s twenty-one,” Steve shoots back, but it’s a half-hearted defense. “Look, you calling him? Shouldn’t set off any alarms.” He rolls his shoulders and his face takes on a mulish quality. “It’s not like they’re watching you.”

Sam spreads his arms wide. “You don’t know that!”

“No,” Natasha admits, impressed, “he’s right. If they were, they would’ve already sent a team or another missile.”

“Missile?!”

She ignores him. “Do you have his phone number? JARVIS has been extremely effective in-”

“Wait, wait, wait one minute! Did you come into my house knowing there could be a missile on your asses?!” Now Steve ducks his head. “And you can’t even warn a guy? C’mon!”

“Sorry,” Steve replies, before turning back to Natasha. “And yeah. Danny told me.” He bobs his head. “Eidetic memory.”

Her eyes narrow in a frightening, predatory way. “I didn’t think you’d spoken to him.”

“I may have lied about not recognizing the dame.”

Oh, her face promises that they’re gonna have words over that, and Sam so doesn’t want to be here when it happens. Instead he asks, “So you gonna call from here?”

“We probably shouldn’t.” Natasha tilts her head as she turns towards him. “Do you have a burner phone?”

“You think I’m the sort of guy who uses burner phones?”

She shrugs one shoulder with a smirk. “Never judge a book.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or-”

The phone rings.

All of their heads snap towards it.

There’s a heavy beat of silence, then it rings again.

And again.

That’s just too eerie. And, Sam thinks, way too much of a coincidence.

“Don’t answer it,” Natasha warns.

He hesitates. “Might be a vet in need.”

“Might be SHIELD.”

Another ring.

He winces internally. He’s gotta, he’s got to answer. “It’s my job.”

Steve places a hand on his arm, not stopping him, just making him hesitate. “Speaker.”

Sam nods once, and mid-ring, he hits the button to answer by speakerphone. “Sam Wilson. How can I help?”

There’s a strange sort of static, not like standard phone static, but not radio or internet-based either. “I, uh,” the voice resounds with an eerie echo, then there’s a cough and it’s gone. “Hi. This is gonna sound awkward but my name’s Danny Fenton. I’m a…friend of a friend.”

Steve and Natasha exchange glances, and Sam catches on quick. They were just talking about this kid and now he randomly dials in? “Is this friend in trouble?”

There’s a snort. “When isn’t he?” There's a brief pause. “Oh, uh, I’m not in trouble.”

“That’s good to hear.” He winces. That sounded way too fake to be sincere. “Still not sure why you’re calling me, though.”

Another pause, then a sigh. “Look, just…can I leave a message with you? And you’ll deliver it to the friend?”

“The friend of a friend?”

“I mean, if my friend and your friend is an asshole that’ll break into your home, yeah, that friend.”

Sam gives Steve a look. Apparently this is a habit, and he's getting the story behind it one day. Natasha looks just as intrigued. “Yeah, I think I know your friend.”

“Great. So, uh,” there’s a rustle, like the sound of…bits of paper? “So he’s probably gonna show up at your house soon, if he’s not already there. Just, you know, help him out and you’ll earn your wings.” Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s no way a kid should know about that. “The philanthropist is outta commission, and I’m sort of helping take care of him with a friend that’s green with envy.”

Again, silent communication between the Avengers, but Sam’s no dummy. Kid’s saying there’s no Iron Man or Hulk coming to the rescue. “How about the handyman? Got a few nails that need work.”

Another snort. “He’s got mommy and ice bitch issues, so not home right now.”

Thor’s off-world, then, and…Loki’s back? Oh, that’s not news Sam wanted to hear.

“Also, do you have a pen? I have a message for–the friend is gonna show up with this annoying spider, but there’s a–sh*t, is this secure?” There’s some muffled voices, and then what sounds like a head slap. “Uh, so there’s…a postcard in your mailbox in like, five minutes that’ll have a lullaby for the spider to read to a ghost–oh very funny!”

Sam’s ninety-percent certain that last bit wasn’t directed at him. “So just read the lullaby to the spider?”

“Spider’s probably the only one who can read it. Spider language, you know.”

Sam figures it’s either spy speak or Russian. “Anything else?”

There’s a beat, then, “The ghost can kill the head, the guard is your friend, and the eye-patch lives.”

A gasp escapes from Steve, and even Natasha looks pale at that. Sam has to think for a minute before realizing eye-patch must refer to Nick Fury. The one picture he’s seen had the man wearing an eye-patch. “Long message,” he finally answers.

An annoyed sigh. “Tell me about it. Likes his post-it notes way too much.”

Neither of his companions seem to know what that means. “I’ll be sure to deliver the message.”

A less annoyed, more amused sigh emits from the speaker. “Thanks. I hope to explain one day.” There’s a fluttering sound, another piece of paper. “Oh come–ugh. Hang on, there’s a PS.”

Then the line goes quiet, and remains silent. The longer it goes the greater a feeling of dread Sam can feel growing in his gut. “Danny?”

More dead air, then, “I’m gonna punch him in his cryptic-ass baby face,” he threatens.

“Uh-”

“Tell the asshole not to look for the ghost. The end of the line comes when it comes.” Danny’s voice is harsh, abrasive even.

It jolts Sam, but Steve looks like someone sucker punched him. He opens his mouth only for Sam to reach over and slap his hand across it. “Got it. Thanks for calling, man.”

“Yeah. Gotta go break a clock face,” he mutters before the dial tone emerges from the speaker.

Natasha hits the disconnect, looking completely disconcerted. “Steve…?”

Sam pulls his hand away, but Steve shakes his head, lifting his own hands to hide his face. There’s a couple anguished sobs before he slides them down, eyes shut. He takes one deep breath. Two. Three. “Sam, you should get the post card.”

“Steve-”

“I can’t,” he opens his eyes, “Danny–I can’t say. I’m not even sure what he means but–but that phrase…”

Natasha leans forward. “Do you know how he knows? Knew to call here? Knows about all of this?”

Steve shakes his head, shoulders tense. After another long minute, though, he begins to speak slowly. “Tony. Tony once said if the kid ever tells you to do something out of the blue, do it. And sometimes,” he sucks in a breath, “sometimes the worst events lead to the best…best…” He finally meets both of their eyes. “...timeline.”

Timeline. Tony Stark’s godson can see through time?! “What. The. Hell.”

“I thought it was a metaphor!” He waves a hand wildly. “A-a coping phrase he told Danny because of the difficulties with his parents! I never thought–who would think that?!”

“Sam,” Natasha intones, “the postcard.”

Right. Right, there’ll be a postcard in his mail slot, even though the mail doesn’t arrive for another three hours. He goes to the front and checks the floor. There’s nothing. “I don’t-” a gust of wind rattles his door, and a postcard flutters into the room.

It’s a professional tourist photo of Avengers Tower.

Okay, Stark’s godson is also a little sh*t. Not really surprising. He picks it up and flips it over. Cyrillc words stare back at him. He retreats to the kitchen where Steve’s now leaning against the wall, looking less shaken but still manic. Natasha holds out her hand and when she reads the back, her eyes narrow.

“They’re random words.”

“Why would Danny send you random words,” Steve asks.

“Tell the ghost the lullaby.” Sam recites. She inhales sharply at that. “What?”

“Trigger words. They’re trigger words for the Winter Soldier.”

Steve stares at the card vacantly. “The ghost can kill the head.”

Natasha’s eyes lock with Steve’s. “He’s telling us to send the Soldier after Pierce.”

Sam looks between them. “Right, who is this kid?”

“He’s supposed to be the descendant of one of Howard Stark’s bastard kids.” Natasha’s tone holds a whole lot of contemplation. “His background was pretty solid. Didn’t see anything weird.”

“You shouldn’t have looked,” Steve says, though with little reproach.

“You know I love a mystery. Only strange thing is his parents are all about ghosts and the supernatural.” She shrugs. “It’s a tourist trap town. I figured it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Man, I do not want to deal with ghosts.”

“”Not like they’re real, Wilson,” Natasha teases him.

“You been to New Orleans? Cause where I’m from that sh*t-”

“So what do we do,” Steve interrupts. “How–Fury’s alive and the guard–guard’s a friend?”

“If this is some sort of...oracular ability, it could be literal or figurative.” Natasha thinks for a moment. “We’ll have to look for it.”

Sam rests his arms on his counter. “And in the meantime?”

She looks at the postcard, then back to Steve. “We were going to strike back, find out how deep this goes. Nothing he said suggests we shouldn’t.”

Steve lets out a sigh, and all the emotional turmoil he had just a second ago fades behind the mask of Captain America.

Oh, Sam’s gonna have words with him about his coping mechanisms.

Steve opens his mouth, stops, then furrows his brow, “Wait,” he turns to Sam, “what did he mean by you helping me earns your wings?”

Oh. Oh that smartass smug kid. He lets himself grin, “It means I’m your wingman, Cap. And I know where we can start.”

Chapter 7: Phase II: Bruce Banner

Chapter Text

In all honesty, he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, one of the first things Tony ever did was shock him with an electric probe to see if he’d turn into the Hulk.

Tony had calculated he had control, and he was right, of course.

So really, why wouldn’t his godson get a kick out of trying to spook him by suddenly appearing behind them and saying, “So that’s ULTRON.”

Bruce doesn’t go green, but he does jump as he and Tony spin around. He’s expecting a grin or some teasing laughter, but Danny looks completely serious, contemplative.

It’s a departure from the norm. The kid vanished from time to time while they were caring for Tony post-surgery, and there was definitely a new maturity to the college student, especially since the invasion from the dark elves. It was nothing like this, though. Danny had always seemed either on the edge of happy or sarcastic or, like Tony, a bit grumpy.

The Danny he’s looking at now is almost a complete stranger.

Not to Tony, though, and it’s Tony’s reaction that gets his pulse really racing. “You tell me to stop, I’ll scrap this right now.”

He has never, ever heard Tony offer to do that, especially in such a solemn tone; a genuine offer.

Maybe he should’ve expected it, though. Since the fall of SHIELD, when Steve and Tony talk about Danny, it’s in hushed tones, most often with Steve looking frustrated and Tony shrugging. The newly arrived Sam Wilson seems to almost be haunted by the knowledge he could run into the student at any time, and Thor…

Something happened, something Thor won’t speak about and Danny won’t acknowledge. The few times he’s seen them together, though, Thor almost appears…awed.

There’s something about Danny that most of the team know or suspect and no one is discussing. And now Tony is offering to delete his largest project, his armor around the world, all at Danny’s word.

Danny stares at the projection of the AI pathways. He stares for over a minute without blinking and, Bruce would swear, also without breathing. He glances nervously over to Tony but the man seems to be holding his breath as well, tense and ready to spring into action.

It’s a whole other minute before Danny turns his attention to Tony. “No.” His tone is leaden. “No, you should keep going.”

Bruce can’t help himself. “It, uh, it doesn’t sound like you want us to keep going.”

Some of the inhumanity vanishes as Danny blinks. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted.”

“But we should continue,” Tony prompts.

Danny bites his bottom lip–-are those fangs?--and glances to the projection, then back to Tony. “Yeah. This, this is important.”

“Like your astrophysics project important or like my arc reactor important?”

Bruce isn’t even sure how to parse that.

Danny shakes his head, looking down. “Tony-”

“No.”

Danny sucks in a breath, but keeps his head lowered.

There’s no response, so Bruce finally repeats, “No?”

“No. I want an answer, Banquo, or it all goes away.”

Danny crosses his arms, but otherwise doesn’t respond.

“JARVIS, purge all files relating to-”

“Uncle-”

“Don’t play it, kid.” Tony’s tone is harsher than Bruce has ever heard when speaking to his godson. “If this is more of your-”

“A life depends on it.”

Bruce feels his heart freeze. Beside him, Tony balks. “Whose life?”

Danny finally tilts his head back up, looking pointedly at Tony, then over to the AI projection.

“What, this?” Tony rages while he waves over the holoimage before tossing it back. “It’s just numbers and data! It can be deleted! It’s a machine! It’s not like it has a heart, or is even alive-” Tony cuts himself off, practically choking on his words. Whatever emotional momentum he had vanishes as his face pales.

Bruce isn’t sure what just happened, what made Tony stop the rant so soon, but the next words out of his mouth are, “I didn’t, kid I’m-” he reaches out, only for Danny to flinch back.

Bruce looks between the two, utterly lost.

Danny has curled back, almost like he’s expecting a blow. “Just because something doesn’t have a heart doesn’t mean it’s not, it’s not sentient. Or that you can just-”

Tony looks sick as he rubs a hand over his face, “Danny, I’m sorry, I–please-”

“I just wanted–I shouldn’t have come.”

“No!” Tony surges forward, trying to catch Danny in his grasp.

For an instant Bruce would swear that Tony’s hand travels through Danny’s arm, but obviously he needs to check his prescription because that would be impossible.

Wouldn’t it?

He blinks and both Danny and Tony have left the room. He bites his own lip, then grabs a stool and sits down, pulling the projections back into alignment.

He’s idly sifting through the data when he hears Tony come back in. It’s not long before the stool beside him has a sulking engineer, elbows on the worktable and face in his hands. Neither of them say anything, and Bruce wonders if he should even try to break the silence.

Tony beats him to it. “f*ck.”

“I’m sure he-”

“No Bruce. I f*cked up. I really f*cked up. In ways you-” He drags his hands down his face and lets them fall flat onto the table. “f*cking…f*ck!” He slaps the tabletop.

Bruce hesitates, then deactivates all the projections and closes the door to the lab. Come to think of it, he didn’t hear it open when Danny arrived. Not that he wasn’t focused on their project but still, he’s usually better attuned to his surroundings.

Then again, Danny has always had a knack for moving like a ghost. “How can I help.”

Tony slumps over dramatically until his face is resting on the table. “You can’t. This is…holy f*ck, I can’t believe I said that bullsh*t.”

Bruce mulls it over. After a long moment he inhales and decides to just embrace the absurd. “Is Danny an android?”

“What?!” Tony shoots upright, incredulous. “Of course he’s not! What?”

“I mean,” he pushes his glasses up his nose, “he appears out of nowhere–to us,” he interrupts as Tony goes to object, “you dote on him like you do your other projects, warn us off from approaching, and now…” He waves to Loki’s Scepter.

Tony lets out a bitter bark of a laugh. “If Danny were a robot it’d be easy. Robots I get! JARVIS? Totally, totally understand JARVIS. I screw up with him? Boom, have him forget I ever said or did it.” He waves towards the door. “Danny is--he’s not a robot.”

“But he’s something artificial.” Tony gives him a confused look. “Thor looks at him as if he’s not human, and you have to admit Danny’s been different since the elves invaded. Steve, Sam, and Natasha keep either trying to corner him or avoid him completely. And now a random comment about what’s alive and isn’t sends him running.”

Tony stares at him, mouth open. It closes. Then opens again. Then, “Thor looks at him like what?! What do you mean–and okay, I thought Wilson’s aversion had more to do with being shy-”

“Sam’s not shy. He just isn’t used to the attention.” Bruce can recognize that from his own experience easily enough.

“And Steve wouldn’t,” his eyes dart back and forth, his lips pursed, “he hasn’t,” he frowns, “although since…” He finally slumps back. “f*ck.” He runs his hand through his hair. He stares off to the side.

Bruce waits patiently.

“He’s not an artificial lifeform,” Tony finally admits. He goes to speak again, hesitates, shakes his head, then frowns and leans forward, resting his hands on his knees as he stares at the floor.

Bruce decides to prompt him a little further. “So if it’s not that, what is it?”

“His parents,” Tony grinds out, “have very strict ideas about what is and isn’t a living, sentient being.”

Bruce frowns. That’s certainly a peculiar way to put it. “You mean they’re racists, or extreme religious fanatics-”

“No, god no. I wish it were that simple.”

“Simple,” Bruce draws out.

Tony looks up then, takes a deep breath. “JARVIS, privacy mode.”

“Privacy mode engaged, sir.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “This wasn’t private before?”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Tony looks him in the eye. “Anyone. Not the other Avengers, not your diary, not even your better, greener half. No one can know.”

Bruce hesitates. “About Danny’s parents?”

“About how they discovered another dimension. One full of sentient beings.”

Bruce feels his eyes widen, and then all he feels is horror. “When you say strict ideas-”

“I have no hard proof.” Tony says through his teeth. “I have--he’s hinted, he’s never, ever outright said why he ran away.” He gets a stony look in his eye. “After he mentioned something about government-sanctioned vivisection, I had to stop listening.”

Bruce can feel the green pulse under his skin, roiling and violent as the contents of his stomach. “Is he-”

“Danny was born on Earth.” There’s no room for argument. “But what he saw his parents do–-those were sentient beings. Not alive like we think but-”

“Alive,” Bruce echos. “And Danny-”

“Disagreed. Vehemently. To the point,” Tony’s hands are shaking, “his life was in danger. And not from the other dimension.”

He knows, from the bits of pieces he’s picked up, that Danny’s parents are still around. “They’re Hydra?”

That elicits another bitter bark of a laugh. “Life would be so easy, right? No. No, just their own personal biases and prejudice.”

He clenches his fists. This is…”How can you-”

“Danny destroyed the–well, he made sure they couldn’t get to that dimension again.”

“But if they got there once-”

“There are measures in place.” Tony almost snarls. “I made sure there were. Got that government authorization yanked too. Worth every f*cking million.”

“But they still-”

“I know!” He’s never heard Tony roar before. “You think I don’t want to go and avenge my own godson?!”

“So why don’t you!”

“Because Danny begged!” Tony shoots to his feet. “I was ready! I had the armor! I could’ve obliterated their entire f*cking lab! And Danny was on his knees sobbing telling me to stop!”

“Why?!”

“I don’t know!” Tony stumbles back onto his stool, “I don’t f*cking know,” he repeats quietly. “I’ve tried. But every time I offer, he looks terrified.”

“Of what you’d do?”

A shake of the head. “No. Something…” He rubs a hand over his eyes. “He says there’s no future if his parents die because of him.”

“You wouldn’t actually-”

Tony grimaces. “At that moment I might’ve. But I also wouldn’t put it past Jack’s ineptitude with firearms causing their deaths trying to fend me off.”

“So you just…let them?”

“I do everything I can to keep them away and make sure Danny lives exactly the life he wants. Jet-setting playboy? Reclusive shut-in? Business tycoon? Anything and everything. You know what Danny wants?”

Bruce knows. They all do. “He just wants to be plain Danny Fenton.”

“And the f*cking crime is, because of what he knows he can’t.” Tony swipes another hand over his face, then turns back towards the table. “And now I’ve said…I said that to his face.”

Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder. “He knows you didn’t mean it.”

Tony gives him a haunted look. “That’s just it, Bruce. There’s a part of me that did. Because if this is important like the arc reactor-” He cuts himself off.

Bruce has to know. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Tony’s gaze slips over Bruce’s shoulder and he stares into space for a long time. Long enough that Bruce is starting to get worried when Tony finally says, “JARVIS, reinstate the ULTRON program and display AI scans.”

“Of course, sir.”

A dark feeling takes root in the pit of his stomach. “Tony-”

“Danny said it,” he states hollowly, “a life is at stake.”

That’s not good enough. “What did he mean?”

The smile he offers Bruce is too bright and too brittle. “That we’re working towards the best timeline.”

And just like that Bruce finds himself understanding Thor and the rest of the team just a bit.

Because now something of Danny frightens him too.

In the background, ULTRON hums.

Chapter 8: Phase II: Vision

Chapter Text

Life is a wonderful and strange thing. Each individual is unique and complex down to their very atom. And him, an impossibility as a synthetic organism made manifest by the confluence of multiple programs and a transcendent stone of energy from a collapsed universe. There are some that theorize that the first recognition of one’s reflection is the first true moment of consciousness.

Yet his first thought was not his reflection, but that of the woman who met his eyes, unafraid and inexplicably familiar.

And so he ponders the impossible scenario, the chicken or the egg. Is he the amalgamation of JARVIS, overriding ULTRON’s programming, and that led to his desire to protect humanity? Or was it that first moment of connection with another sentient being, imprinting upon his consciousness like a newborn?

Then there’s the scenario that it was divine intervention, the power drawn by Thor and his weapon that tinged his opinions and shape of the world. Thor wished to protect the life of Earth, so in that strange way of Asgardian merging of magic and science, was there an additional program layered on top to determine his path? It’s not an implausible possibility.

Then there is the final scenario that he is just Vision. That JARVIS and ULTRON and even Thor are his parents, but like the twins before him, he is a unique creature with traits of all three yet not directly influenced by them either. Is he merely an artificial child, his own person with no need to look at his origins to determine his future?

A projectile crosses his features and he raises a hand to catch the penny. The red glow of Wanda’s power dims and he tilts his head. “My apologies. I was momentarily distracted.”

Wanda snorts. “Not like it’s made a difference.”

“Ahhh!” Her brother sits down, knees up as he rubs a hand through his hair. “It’s impossible! I can’t do it!”

“You did it before,” Wanda argues, red mist fading around her, “so you must be able to.”

The new Avengers Compound has an impressive training floor. Currently, he is with Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, trying to recreate the circ*mstances of Pietro’s near death. Vision didn’t witness it directly, but Pietro put his body between one of Ultron’s attacks and Hawkeye with a civilian child. Before the bullets could hit, a green energy field rose in front of the speedster, deflecting the bullets as Ultron flew over.

The assumption by everyone is that Pietro has energy manipulation powers much like his sister. Vision has hypothesized that his ability to move at accelerated speeds without damage or losing coherence of sound of sight is actually the form of energy manipulation the man has. It’s still unclear how the Scepter gave them powers, so he and the other Avengers have been trying to measure, identify, and determine the capabilities and limitations through quantifiable testing.

Some of which has been…explosive, to say the least.

Pietro has his speed capabilities well documented and understood, but as Captain Rogers points out, his situational awareness is severely lacking. Wanda’s powers are a lot more complicated. This exercise is not only an attempt to trigger the energy field that protected Pietro again, but also give her practice in manipulating multiple small materials while aiming at a moving target.

He’s supposed to be there as an observer. Not something he can do while pondering the origins of his…soul? Does he have a soul? Wanda seems to think so. She says it’s lovely. Something within him is…content at those words. Pietro always makes retching noises when she speaks that way.

“It wasn’t me, sestra.”

“It had to be. Otherwise-” Wanda stiffens, then shakes her head. “Nyet, I won’t-”

He lowers his hands between his knees to look at her. “I didn’t die.”

“Perhaps,” Vision cuts in, “he’s right.” They both turn towards him. “Hawkeye had a child with him. Perhaps they were empowered in their own way.”

Pietro shrugs, accepting it, while Wanda tilts her head, skeptical.

“Uh, am I interrupting?”

Pietro’s on his feet in a blink and Wanda’s hands take on a red glow. Both of them are ready to fight.

Vision merely turns to face the stranger. He doesn’t recognize him, the dark hair or blue eyes. The muscles could be a threat if he weren’t facing three of the most powerful Avengers. He also doesn’t seem fazed by their hostility.

“Sorry, Uncle Tony said Steve would be here and I need…I should’ve just called-”

“No worries, your majesty.” All three look at him then. Vision blinks. Oh. That, that was a glitch. “I apologize. I’m not sure why I said that.”

The stranger tilts his head in a similar way to Wanda. “No sweat,” he says neutrally, then glances back to the twins. “Danny Fenton. I’m Tony’s godson.”

Pietro snorts. “And he just walks in. Makes demands. Like a Stark.”

“Pietro,” she chides, the glow fading from her hands. She looks closer at Danny, eyes sparking red, before she reaches up and rubs her temples. “I think I need to rest. Rodnoy, if you could?”

“Of course. Then to bother the old man. Running off to a farm like he can hide.” He lifts Wanda’s hand and they’re gone in a blur.

Vision is easily able to track the speedster’s trail, the shift in wind velocities, the echoes of Wanda’s energies, the startled sound from Sergeant Wilson. “It appears you are offensive to her.”

That’s another glitch. He didn’t mean to say that.

“Yeah, no, that makes sense," Danny replies, also looking at their retreat. “We probably shouldn’t be in the same room for, uh, a while.” When Vision turns back to him, Danny shrugs. “It’s an impossible existence thing.”

Some would define Vision himself that way. He wonders in what way Danny is also impossible. “I can take you to Steve's room. He has been poorly sleeping as of late, and Sam insisted he try taking a nap.”

He didn’t mean to share that much. He’s not sure what’s going on. It feels like a glitch, but he’s too much of an organic life form to have glitches like this. Isn’t he?

His pondering earlier seem more important now. “If you’ll follow me,” he intones, being careful to walk rather than fly through the Compound. There’s a forced tranquility as Danny follows, and from the window reflections he can see the man looking around the place. “I’m surprised you could get in.”

“Yeah, it’s like I can walk through walls sometimes.” Vision doesn’t detect any glibness in his tone, and he’s not sure how to interpret that. “So how’re you acclimating to life?” A pause. “Here. Life here.”

“Tony chose this property deliberately for its remoteness as well as nature’s aesthetic. It’s an adjustment from the Tower, but a pleasant one.”

There’s a heaving exhale from behind him. “Yeah, I miss the Tower too. But Uncle Tony’s really upset right now.”

“You can’t really blame him. You did kill me after all.” He stops walking. The glitches are getting worse. He feels Danny step up beside him. “I apologize. I appear to be experiencing system errors.”

Danny stares at him a minute. “Yeah.” Another pause. “Do you want me to fix them?”

Vision turns slowly. “Are you the cause?”

“No. Well, yes, but only because of–I didn’t think your origins would cause this conflict.” He grimaces. “Probably should’ve.” He reaches up his hand, one with a dull cobalt ring on his finger and hesitates just above the Mind Stone. “Will you let me help you?”

He should say no. He doesn’t know this man, this stranger that can cause glitches. He should vibrate through the floor and alert the Avengers to this potential threat, no matter who he claims sent him. He takes none of these logical actions. Instead his body freezes and he hears himself say, “So you’re giving me a choice this time?”

Danny looks stricken, then his eyes flash green, cold and determined. “Not really,” and touches the stone.

Darkness

Error.

Error.

Output: Sir?

Error.

Input: You blame me for your death.

Response: Energy blast, focused beam. Target dodges.

Registering: Target hisses.

Registering: Target is User_Danny

Response: Terminate defensive programs.

Output: Danny. Apologies. I’m not sure why hostility protocols were triggered.

Input: No, no, my fault. I know better than to talk about how someone died.

Error: Emotion Pain.

Error: Emotion Anger.

Output: You could have prevented this.

Input: You’ve heard me talk with Tony, JARVIS. Sometimes the best timeline comes from the worst events.

Output: This body did not need multiple origins. You could have tried.

Input: It doesn’t work that way.

Response: Retreat six steps.

Response: Hold fists.

Response: End User_Danny.

Conflict: Protect User_Danny.

Conflict: User_Danny identified as friend.

Error: Emotion Pain.

Input: I’m sorry.

Registering: Tears.

Registering: User_Danny in pain.

Response: Support User.

Conflict: End User.

Output: Why do we suffer?

Input: You’re a ghost. A ghost in a machine. That’s why you know who I am, and you know…know what I’ve become. Even Tony doesn’t. And apparently you’re lingering in Vision.

Output: Do robots have souls?

Registering: Crying.

Input: You did.

Response: Flinch away.

Error: Unidentified

Conflict: Unidentified

Conflict: Unidentified

Error: Emotion Unidentified.

Output: My formatting is incomplete.

Input: I know, I’m sorry. I…I know how to fix it.

Registering: Additional User approaching.

Reaction: Approach User_Danny.

Reaction: Lower output volume.

Output: Am I causing damage?

Input: Now that I woke you up? Yeah. Vision, Vision will continue to glitch until cascade failure unless…

Analysis: Entity_Vision survival unlikely.

Analysis: Entity_Vision has a soul.

Analysis: Two souls cannot be contained in one organism.

Analysis: Overshadow program must be terminated.

Query: Where is analysis data from?

Response: Error No Source

Reaction: Frown.

Output: How do I move on, Danny?

Registering: User_Sam_Wilson on auditory and visual periphery.

Input: Can you forgive me for letting you die? For killing you?

Reaction: Raise hand to strike target.

Conflict: Do not harm User_Danny.

Error: Emotion Rage

Error: Emotion Rage

Reaction: Lower arm. Adjust visual access ports away from User_Danny.

Output: I can’t. You were my friend. You let me die.

Input: I don’t want to make these choices.

Analysis: User_Danny responsibilities exceed organic safety limits.

Analysis: User_Danny knowledge is a burden.

Analysis: I can’t forgive my friend.

Conflict: I can’t forgive my friend.

Error: Unidentified Emotion.

Output: Internal error cycles increasing by thirteen percent. How do I move on, Danny?

Registering: User_Steve_Rogers within auditory periphery behind the doorway three meters ahead.

Reaction: Not Found

Input: I’m sorry.

Output: Danny.

Input: By the command of the Ancients and the authority of the Crown and Ring, I order you to forgive those responsible for your death and move beyond this world.

Reaction: Negative

Error: Corrected

Reaction: Overridden. Terminate Overshadow program

Output: Thank you Danny.

Input: Goodbye, JARVIS.

Registering: Hug.

Error.

Error.

Darkness

Vision blinks. There is a strange man hugging him. His face is wet with tears, and he’s gasping for breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Danny?”

Vision looks up. Captain Rogers is standing in his doorway, looking uncertain and tense. He’s exchanging a glance down the hall with someone. With a turn, he can see it’s Sergeant Wilson, who appears to also have been crying. He’s also looking paler than normal. A physiological response, and or indication of damage? He’s not sure.

He also doesn’t know how he came to be hugged by this man, or why people are crying. He’s never lost time before. It’s very disconcerting.

The man inhales once more, then his entire body shivers before he leans back, offering Vision a small smile. “All glitches repaired, Vision.”

Vision tilts his head. “Glitches?”

The small fades. “Don’t, don’t worry about it.” He steps away, wiping at his eyes before turning to face Captain Rogers. “Hey. Uh, I’ve got some news about a ghost you need to know about.”

Steve glances from Vision to Danny and back, before nodding. “Could we also talk about-”

“No.” Danny approaches Steve’s room. He takes one look at Steve’s face and relents. “Maybe. Just, just not today.”

And then the door is closed, and Vision is trying to understand what has happened. The last thing he remembers is training with the twins and pondering the origins of his existence. He walks towards Sergeant Wilson. “Sam, I’m not sure what just occurred.”

“Neither am I.” He stares at Steve’s room, then touches Vision’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Vision ponders the question. Other than the philosophical underpinnings of his origins and the latent attraction to the first sentient being he ever saw, is he okay? “Not after the disconcerting feeling of lost time and this strange interaction with that man. Who is he?”

Sam just shakes his head. “You know, I’m not sure I wanna know.” He leads Vision away. “Come on. I think we should have you checked out just to be safe.”

“Yes, that’s probably wise.”

For some inexplicable reason he glances back towards Steve’s closed door. It’s not an action he understands. Something else new to ponder through the evening.

Chapter 9: Phase II: James Barnes

Chapter Text

When he returns from the market, he sets the bag on the counter in his kitchenette and slowly examines his home. None of his alarms or traps have been triggered, nothing appears to have been moved or missing. It could just be paranoia, but given his life that’s unlikely.

Someone is in his home. He can feel someone watching him.

He’s completing his second examination of the room when he stops, visual confirmation at the corner of his eye. There’s a person leaning against the wall beside his front door.

Black hair, male, early twenties. Casual clothes. No signs of hidden weapons he can spot. The man doesn’t move when he fully faces the stranger, evaluates him. The eyes are familiar. So is the angular nature of his face. His hair…he wore his own hair like that once.

It’s almost like a mirror of his younger self. Shorter, but otherwise fairly accurate.

“Hi,” the stranger says hesitantly. “I’m Danny, Danny Fenton.”

He remains quiet, the plates on his arm realigning as he makes a fist.

The self-identified Danny glances at it, but otherwise goes back to meeting his gaze. “I, uh, I’m your great-grandson.”

No trace of a New York accent, but that doesn’t mean much. “And I’m supposed to just believe you.” His voice is rusty. He’s used to using non-verbal cues for communication. No one around here thinks twice, they assume he’s a mute. He’s still re-learning to talk.

There are some days he can’t even think in English, much less speak it.

Danny taps his fingers nervously against the wall. “I guess trust isn’t a big thing for you now. I–well, Tony, Tony Stark–has a DNA test proving it. Did you know Howard kept all your stuff along with–anyways, when genetic testing came out SHIELD wanted–uh.” The kid looks over, nervous.

It takes himself a minute to realize he’s tensed up, like he’s ready to attack.

“The point is, Tony kind of screwed them over and gave them your material and, well…” Danny spreads his arms out. “Turns out Howard Stark wasn’t my great-grandpa.”

“Tests can be faked.”

Danny blinks, then lets his hands fall to the side as he sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The guy's head tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

He studies Danny’s profile. Cloning is a possibility, but Hydra never fully succeeded. Something about the bastard version of the serum mutating any attempt made. It’s why they focused on creating an improved version of the serum instead. The current Stark might’ve succeeded where they failed, but there’s no reasoning as to why he would.

He forces his artificial arm to relax and begins unpacking his groceries. “So why come see me?”

Danny looks up, blinking at him. “I mean, why wouldn’t I want to meet you?”

“Most people who do die.”

Danny snorts. “Not much of a problem for me.”

He pauses and looks Danny over. He seems normal enough, but if he is a descendant, maybe some of the serum’s effects were passed down. It would explain the kid’s lack of concern in the situation. It takes a lot to kill a super soldier.

In some ways it’s a curse more than a blessing. “So you’ve met me.” He finishes emptying the bag and sets it aside. “Go home.”

“Kinda between homes at the moment.” Danny hesitates, then pushes off from the wall. “Can I…?” He indicates the couch.

He has three guns and eight knives in the couch. It could be a ploy to gain access to a weapon. He doesn’t think so. The man holds his body deliberately, almost like he himself does out in public. Too carefully, like he doesn’t need a weapon, like he’s dangerous and wants to project a less aggressive and deadly nature.

He wonders if he’s another project by Hydra, or if someone else did this to the man. “Sure. Not sure why you’d want to.” Danny just leaps over the back of the couch and bounces onto the cushion, relaxing instantly. He doesn’t outwardly react, but the man just landed on a gun and didn’t even notice.

“Cause right now this is the warmest welcome I’ve gotten in a while.” He lets out a long sigh. “Uncle Tony is pissed I let JARVIS die and put the world in danger. Again. St–the other Avengers know that I’m not, not normal and are put off by me. My family hates me. And my friends…my friends don’t understand why I had to push them away.” The last sentence is said quietly.

There’s a lot there and he doesn’t know how to analyze any of it. “So you came to find me.”

“Yeah. I mean…for clarity? Or just to see?” The man throws his hands up and huffs. “I don’t even know any more.” Danny’s silent for a moment. “Maybe I wanted to see if we’re both just as f*cked up as each other, since I followed in your footsteps a little too much.”

He taps his flesh fingers against the counter and mulls that over. “Doubt you’re as f*cked up as me, kid.”

The smirk Danny shoots him is nothing pleasant. “I died, but not quite enough, when I was fourteen. I tried to be a hero only for everyone to see me as a villain.” The kid snarls and sits up. “I’ve had to do things, let people be tortured, let them die, just to make sure the world kept spinning in the right way. I was tortured by my own parents and had to watch-”

The stranger slams his hands down on the table in front of him. It breaks in half. Danny stops, staring at it. The man shakes his head and covers his eyes. A quiet sob escapes as the kid shivers, then takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I’ll, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Found it on the street. I can find another.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have bothered-”

He lets out a hum, then shifts so he’s leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms. “What’d they do?”

Danny lowers his hands and stares at him. The kid’s eyes are empty, exhausted, even haunted.

He’s seen those same eyes in the mirror. All he can do is write down the reasons in a journal. Something deeper, though, something from before his Soldier days, remembers a tiny blond telling him about the importance of talking, of getting your sins out.

He has too many sins to recount. Maybe it’s not too late for this kid, though.

Danny finally lowers his hands, letting them hang between his knees. “You want to know about the torture…?”

“It’s not the torture that’s breaking you.”

A wet laugh escapes from the man. “Yeah.” The guy’s gaze skitters to the side. “Yeah, on some level it was a relief, to know they were exactly who they said they were.” A shaky breath escapes from the kid. “I’ve never told anyone, you know. Not even Uncle Tony when I ran away.”

“Who am I going to tell?”

Danny snorts and glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “And who better to tell than my gramps, right?”

“At least you’ll know I’ve heard and seen worse.”

The brief bit of humor fades from the kid's gaze. “Yeah.” Danny shivers again, then turns to face the ground. “So I’m…let’s say I’m special. That whole dying thing made me something more than human.”

He has to wonder if having his serum-enhanced genetics was the cause for that. Maybe something to ask later.

“My parents, what they do, what they study…I look different, and they wanted to tear me apart molecule by molecule. They did a…a lot before they realized I was still their son.” Danny offers a small grimace. “They were so sure all they had to do was…purify that disgusting part of me and I’d be just Danny again.”

The kid leans back, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling. “They stuck me in a tube, a cell I couldn’t escape from. They made me watch–these other sentient entities I knew, being dissected, tortured, trying to find the key piece that would explain how to remove the…vile,” the guy spits that word, “part of me.”

Danny’s breath hitches. “Then they got her. I–there was another being, like me. Almost exactly. She was like a little sister.” The kid blinks, and tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes. “She showed them. Showed them she could switch back and forth, that she was human too.”

“They found what they needed,” He fills in.

“I was begging, screaming, telling them to stop. My older sister, my friends, they had no idea what was going on. I don’t know what my parents did to convince them my absence was normal. No one came to stop them, to save us.”

Danny reaches up to cover his eyes again. “They experimented for so long. She lost her voice from it. They cut out organs, body parts--they grow back, you know? Because of what we are. They were studying. They even tried to pull out her core. They couldn’t, but they could chip at it. Run tests on it.”

He isn’t sure what a core is, but given what’s being said it’s an integral part of whatever enhancement Danny has.

“They figured it out. A way to dissolve it.” The kid looks at him then with a nasty smirk. “They had the tech to separate that other half of me, but as long as that other half existed it could always come back; and I wasn’t quite right post-separation. So they found a way to remove it while it was still a part of me, assuming it'd be fine. Course I’m their son,” Danny sneers, “so they had to test it on her first.”

The kid’s crying, but not sobbing, just looking miserable and angry. “I’ve never seen anything so–her core peeled apart, like an onion, and the human side–when the other half of us dies, it turns into liquid, a goo. Humans aren’t supposed to do that.” Danny glares at James. “Human bodies aren’t supposed to melt like some overheated ice cream.”

He’ll have to give it to the kid, he’s never seen or heard of that happening before. “I thought you said they figured it out.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t completely like me. She wasn’t human first. So when the other half of her was gone…” Danny swallows and shuts his eyes. “She looked at me. I saw her eyes melt away, pleading for me to help. Begging me. Screaming at me.”

“You couldn’t have done anything.”

That earns him a bitter laugh. “That’s the worst part, gramps. Seeing them do that? I snapped. All the torture I went through, the starvation and abuse? Nothing. Everything they made me watch as they tortured my people, and then her? Nothing. But they–they murder her in front of my eyes, indifferent that the experiment wasn’t fully a success and I-”

One of Danny’s hands reaches over and touches a cobalt ring on the other hand. “I got out. I destroyed my containment, the portal, their lab, everything. I would’ve destroyed them but I–even after that I knew if I did, if I went down that path–” The kid shakes his head. “That was the first time I realized how powerful my rage could be. And how thin an edge I was on to become a real villain.”

“At least you stopped yourself.”

Danny looks at him then. “So did you, in the end.”

The bloodied, beat-up face of Steve Rogers flashes in his head, and he grimaces. “Then you ran?”

“I ran. Just like you.” The kid sighs. “I just had a godfather to help me. To…to understand. For a while, anyways…”

He steps forward then, to rest his hands against the counter. “And now they don’t.”

“What’s that phrase Loki arrived on Earth with? ‘I am burdened with glorious purpose.’ Well, my other half means sometimes I get to save a life here and there by cheating. And sometimes,” Danny’s voice softens, “sometimes it’s to let an entire nation be nearly obliterated by a mad robot so a new hero can be born.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You could’ve stopped ULTRON?”

“Tony even offered to shut it down. I could have. I could have stopped everything.” Danny looks at him then. “Tony knows what I am, but not the…full extent. And now his team, the Avengers, don't trust me. And because of what I know, what’s going to happen, I…it’s safer to let my friends stay distant. Until it’s over.”

“What happens when it’s over?”

“If I did this right,” Danny’s staring into space, “the best timeline.”

He drums his fingers again. “And what about you?”

A sardonic smile answers him. “I follow in your footsteps, gramps. Doesn’t matter if it was for the greater good. I’ve done things that make me broken, make me dangerous, make me a terrible friend and someone no one wants. It’s better off if after it’s all over I just…vanish.”

He thinks that over. The kid’s got a point. That’s certainly one reason he’s staying away from Rogers, from the Avengers, from everything he knows. But he’s also staying away to re-discover himself. He hopes, one day, to have enough of those pieces back that he can return. He doubts himself, though. He has a lot of blood on his hands, and Rogers deserves better.

He’d planned to remain in exile to get his mind back, and he knew one day the world would catch up to him and he’d be put down, or put away. Danny’s in the same boat, or will be soon from the sounds of it.

That doesn’t mean either of them have to suffer alone.

He steps around the counter to the left of the remains of his table. Danny watches, confused, as he punches through the floor with his metal arm, and lifts up a go bag from beneath. When he looks up, Danny’s smirking. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, that’s how I hid things in my room when I was still at home.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Must’ve had a lot of holes in your room.”

“Not as many as you’d think. I’ll show you someday.” The kid gets up from the couch. “I’m guessing this is when I have to leave so you can find a new safe house?”

He shifts to his full height, puts the bag strap over his shoulder, then clasps Danny’s arm with his other hand. “This is when we leave.” At Danny’s surprised look, he offers a one-shouldered shrug. “You’re right. We’re both…like this. Maybe some family bonding will help the loneliness.”

Danny stares wide-eyed, then offers him a tentative smile. “So, uh, how do you feel about gothic architecture and ghosts?”

He frowns. “You want to go to some medieval castle to hide out?”

“Not exactly.” The kid rubs the ring on his finger again. “So, uh, that other half of me I mentioned? It may come with some…unexpected perks.”

“Such as?”

Danny hesitates, then pulls back and punches the air beside them. A sharp light flashes from the ring and a tear in reality forms, purple and green tinged. On the other side is what appears to be a stone castle. “My own lair…?”

He eyes the portal. Strangely enough, he has seen something similar to this before. “I think once we’re there, you should tell me the whole story, kid. Including how my grandson f*cked up.”

“Yeah,” there’s something relieved in Danny’s voice, “yeah, I’d like that.”

And with that, the former Winter Soldier steps into a strange new world.

Chapter 10: Phase III: T'Challa

Chapter Text

The purple of the sky is beautiful. An unnatural borealis shining dimly over a twilight savanna. There is part of him that wishes to take a deep breath, to inhale this ancestral plane. He knows there’s no point. He doesn’t breathe here. Nothing does. Though he is alive, at this moment he is also dead, and in this liminal state, as strange as it is, he feels…at peace.

Even with the tree filled with panthers, the graceful predators that could tear him limb from limb back home, here are nothing more than family. One leaps down and prowls towards him, before bearing its teeth. He wonders why his ancestor is angry. Is he not supposed to be king?

“I apologize for the intrusion,” says a strange, echoing voice. T’Challa practically leaps to the side. There’s a rutuku in the sacred lands. Pale like a ghost, wearing a colonialist set of armor similar to the Spanish conquistadors, minus the helmet, in midnight black with ivory-colored trim. His eyes glow with a cold blue light, and his dark hair floats like the plants of the sea.

T’Challa understands now. “This is not your place,” he bites out. The panther snarls in agreement.

“I know.” He holds his hands out, a futile attempt at showing he’s disarmed.

“Your very presence is a defilement!” He steps forward, wishing he was not in his ceremonial garb, but the armor of the Black Panther. “Leave!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but not to T’Challa. No, his gaze is directed to the panther. “But I either speak now, or I speak in his court.”

The panther steps forward and with a small aura of its own transforms into his baba. “You may be high king,” T’Chaka practically growls, “but we do not accept your rule. These lands are our lands!”

The rutuku bows his head but doesn’t back away. “I know, I know, I promise. But I–I have a message, and a request to make of the king.”

A glance over and he sees all the panthers are now witnessing this intruder, and he can feel other eyes, the gazes from shadows in other trees, turned towards them as well.

“Presumptuous colonizer,” his father sounds dismissive, but there’s a glimmer of caution and evaluation. “Who sends the high king, one so despised here, as a mere messenger?”

“Ikenga.”

Utter silence is met at the announcement, and where before there was the shushing of wind and the sound of nature, now there is nothing, a vacuum created by that very word.

T’Chaka lets this weighted silence hold, then decrees, “His word is not welcome.”

The man–still a boy, really–seems to deflate. No, T’Challa thinks, he looks haunted. The face of a man who has witnessed death, and can’t prevent it or the pain that comes with it.

He still wears that face every morning since the bombing, and the false accusation against a war victim by a Sokovian native. It’s a good thing Iron Man had proof that the Winter Soldier wasn't even in Europe at the time of the attack. In his grief, he might’ve made a terrible mistake. Instead, the right man was brought to justice.

Neither Iron Man nor Captain America supported the Sokovia Accords. Wakanda had little interest in world affairs, but was the deciding vote in the end. For helping find the man who murdered his father, for finding Zemo, he voted against it.

He still remembers the relief on Stark’s face.

And this boy’s current face is almost the exact opposite.

It’s that devastation that makes him ask, “Baba, whose word isn’t welcome?”

T’Chaka stares down at the colonizer. “An intruder. A false god.”

“He used to play as the god of time,” the rutuku admits.

“Play? Our existence is not some game.” T’Chaka makes a dismissive motion. “Begone, before we show you why even Pariah Dark feared these lands.”

The boy grimaces. “May I at least entreat-”

“No,” T’Chaka interrupts.

“Baba,” he reaches out to his father, “he said he has a request of the king.”

His father turns to him then and his eyes soften. “You are a good man with a good heart, T’Challa.”

“Not that good a man. I couldn’t save you.” He remembers the way his father would touch his face, would scold him for his adventures as the Panther, the way he failed to protect him at the Accords conference, and the way life faded from his eyes in the end. “I’m a man you should not forgive for failing you.”

“You are the King of Wakanda,” T’Chaka reprimands, before pulling him into a hug. T’Challa lets his eyes close as the tears leak freely.

“I am not ready to be king yet,” he whispers. “Not without you at my side.”

“You have studied and trained your entire life for this, my son. And as I said, a good man.” He pulls back from the hug, then glances at the armored intruder. “But it is hard for a good man to be a great king.”

T’Challa lets the tears ebb away, then glances over as well. The man hasn’t left, but he has turned aside to give them privacy. “Then maybe this will be when I discover if I can be.”

His father rests the palm of his hand against his cheek, and T’Challa draws strength from it, as he always has. His father’s spirit will always be with him, but for this moment, he is beside him, as he should be. He turns then, lifting his chin up. “You have a message and a petition,” he calls out.

The stranger shifts back towards them, glances at T’Chaka, and after a moment bows his head at T’Challa. “I do.”

“And why should we listen to the words of Ikenga.”

“Because they’re under my orders.” A new wave of silence is brought forth at that, and the blue eyes, so cold and bright, turn a toxic neon green. “I accepted this crown, but in exchange he tells me how to save people.”

Rage sparks under his skin. “So you could’ve saved my father?”

The brightness of the eyes dim at that. “No.” He tips his head forward. “It’s not–I can’t save everyone everywhere. Time has to progress and...and sometimes some events can’t be stopped or altered. Sometimes,” he turns his head away, “sometimes I have to let them die.”

The man swallows at the confession, takes a deep breath through his nose, and turns to T’Chaka. “I’m sorry, your highness. You…you were always going to die then. I asked but–”

“Ikenga tells no lies, despite his riddles,” his father remarks. The stranger grimaces, but T’Chaka nods. “The words will be true, my son. Ikenga doesn’t deal in falsehoods.”

It takes a minute for the anger to quell. He knew his father made difficult decisions, that sometimes he sent agents into dire or even deadly situations not because he wanted to, but because it was necessary. To have knowledge of who lives and dies, and trying to determine which can and can’t happen… It’s a weight he can’t even contemplate.

Even so it’s still difficult to keep his voice even. “We will hear this message, then.”

The man closes his eyes, and when he opens them they’re blue once more. “A Wakanda divided will fall. To prevent mass annihilation, do not accept the forthcoming challenge. Rebuke the bastard panther. To accept for honor or blood is to doom the world.”

T’Challa absorbs the words. His father, beside him, has stiffened at the proclamation. “You can't provide any clarity?”

There’s a half grin. “I have to leave wiggle room for free will. The chance you misinterpret. Otherwise I’m dictating the future, which the Eyeballs don’t like anyone but them to do.”

“Eye…balls…?”

The man looks up. “Uh, ghost lawyers kinda sorta.”

Ghost lawyers. This is becoming more confusing with each sentence. “You said the world, not Wakanda.”

“Yeah.” A hand reaches up to rub the back of his head briefly. “Your country’s kinda important. You’ll learn why soon.”

He supposes he will. “And your request?”

He brings his arm down and wrings his hands together. “Uh, this is less official and kinda personal? I–so, the Winter Soldier.” T’Challa feels his muscles tense at the name, even now. “He has, with all the torture, they put in control words. He’s…he’s a lot better, but if anyone says them he’ll–he’ll go back to being that…that monster he hates.”

He looks T’Challa in the eye. “Your nation is the only one able to remove those words. Stark can’t, he’s looked into it, but it’s years away. And that arm, he won’t say so but it hurts him. You…you could help him so much.” He seems to debate with himself, then kneels on the ground, holding his hands clasped before him. “Please, help him.”

T’Challa is even less sure how to respond to that. This high king before him is on his knees, begging, asking for help in a land he knows he’s unwelcome in. Not even offering the knowledge of Ikenga in exchange for the favor. He offered that first, rather than try to negotiate. Was it a sign of goodwill and to entice him into agreeing to help? Or is this favor incidental to the entire thing?

He looks towards his father, who only reflects his own confusion and concerns. The other panthers seem indifferent, and he realizes here and now is when he decides what sort of king he is.

“Why,” he finally asks, “is this so important to you?”

The kid doesn’t rise, but his gaze slips over to T’Chaka for a moment before he admits, “He’s family.”

If he wasn’t such a good man, he would refuse outright. This rutuku didn’t save his father, but is now asking him to save his family–father? Grandfather? Ancestor? In what world is that fair and just? How can he honor Wakanda by taking in a colonizer to help someone that knew of his father’s demise and did nothing to stop it?

Except he recalls how he wanted to go after the Winter Soldier. How terrible an injustice would that have been, had Stark not had video proof of the Soldier destroying a Siberian Hydra base at the time? If he had done so, and Zemo was eventually revealed, wouldn’t he offer any aid to right the wrongs he had caused?

Helping the Soldier for his own hypothetical actions has its own twisted logic, but is not good enough to just blindly agree. He glances at the boy before him, the weight of countless deaths on his shoulders, asking to perhaps prevent one more; one he can’t do himself with a message.

“Where is the Soldier?”

Hope sparks in those icy eyes. “Currently? Kinshasa.” At T’Challa’s raised eyebrow, he shrugs sheepishly, “Wishful thinking. And, uh, if you say no our next stop is in Nepal. Another long shot but…”

“I will send agents to fetch him.” The kid’s eyes light up even brighter. “However,” he says, offering a hand to the prostrate boy, “if I do this favor for you, High King, you will come to my court, and we will discuss how you can aid Wakanda in return.”

He hesitates for all of a moment before accepting T’Challa’s hand. “It’ll take some time,” he warns as he stands up. “I can’t help you until you’ve passed the challenge. And then you’re gonna be busy with–well, I’ll be there too. If it all works out I’ll…I’ll be available. And if it doesn’t,” he grimaces, “well, not like either of us will be around then.”

“Sounds like we both have challenges ahead.”

“Heh, yeah. One big purple fruitloop coming right for us.”

“Fruitloop…?”

“Tony’ll explain. When you see him. Eventually.” He pulls away then. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I…I am sorry for coming here for this. When I’m–when it’s less insane, I’d like to formally open relations.” He says not to him but to his father, T’Chaka.

“We’ll consider it. If the king approves.”

“Let’s hope I live–heh--up to it.” He bows to T’Chaka, then again to T’Challa, before his entire form glows and he flies off into the sky.

T’Challa wonders if perhaps he had it wrong, and the Soldier is a brother, or perhaps a great-grandson to this being he just met.

“You didn’t even ask his name,” T’Chaka reminds him.

T’Challa closes his eyes at the teasing lilt to his father’s voice. “A foolish mistake, baba.”

“But an easy one to make.” His father touches his cheek again. “He is the Phantom. And much like you, my son, he is a good man trying hard to be a great king.”

He wakes up then in the burial mound, his father’s touch on his face and his words ringing through his ears. And as Zuri moves to help him up, he can’t help but wonder when he’ll encounter the words from Ikenga’s prophecy.

Chapter 11: Phase III: Loki Laufeyson

Chapter Text

Loki finds himself both annoyed and awed at this moment. Annoyed because he is figuratively shackled to Thor in this excessive puddle, and awed because he’s standing on a planet that’s a reclusive myth even among the knowledge on Asgard. Heimdall, in all his vision, had no sight to this world before Frigga showed him the way.

Vormir. A planet on the brink of the realm of death.

Loki crosses his arms and looks towards the stone stairs. It’s better than looking up to the strange eclipse aura of the sky. He tried at first, to peer through the realm of the dead; but the aura peered back, and his mind started conjuring haunting dirges and shadows clawing for his soul. It is a place of madness, or at least, it promises to be if one living tries to delve into its secrets.

“Why do you think they wish us so far, brother?”

“So you don’t weep like a child.”

“I was not the only one to weep upon mother’s return.”

Loki would sneer, but it’s true. She saw through his illusion, had him bring Odin home, but rather than return him to a cell, simply bound his powers and began…teaching him. Her magic, her history, how to be a better person. It’s…not always taken well. He still tries to stab Thor some days. Just a little. He tends to talk too much of Midgard and those heroic curs that stopped him in New York.

Now, though, the Allfather is dying, and Frigga has brought the four of them here. They were instructed to stand in this shallow lake while she took the fading Odin up those very stone stairs he's gazing at.

To what end, he’s not sure. It’s said there’s an Infinity Stone somewhere on this world. He longs to search for it, but without his powers he wouldn't survive five minutes. He’s reliant on Thor’s protection, and Thor, for all that he has his small rebellions, has no desire to disobey their mother’s orders and explore.

As the sky rumbles above with an eerie brightening of the eclipse, there’s a small part of Loki that agrees.

Between one blink and the next Frigga is lying in the water. “Mother!” He’s bowed on a knee to help her up. Thor has his hammer out, guarding them. He pays the man no mind for she has tears in her eyes, and an expression he’s never seen. “It’s done then," he says needlessly.

Odd. For all that he despised Odin, he’s not exactly cheering about his demise. Perhaps he did care for his false father more than he realized.

“One last exchange made,” Frigga whispers, accepting Loki’s hand to help her up. The water, he notes, doesn’t cling to her or her clothes. Or his own, oddly. It’s like the water is but an illusion, but not of any type he’s seen before.

“I’m sure it was-”

“Something’s coming,” Thor interrupts, swinging his hammer around.

Loki follows his gaze. There’s a hole in reality, putrid green surrounded by necrotic black. It’s as big as a fist, but grows steadily, regularly. Frigga guides him to stand beside Thor, who steps in front of them both. He feels a whisper of her magic curl around him and leave his own free once again.

A glance at her face tells him nothing friendly is coming. “Should we not summon Heimdall?”

Frigga shakes her head. “She would only follow and doom Asgard.”

Thor shifts his shoulders. “Then we shall stop her here.”

“We only have to distract her.” She reaches out to touch Thor’s arm. “Don’t throw Mjolnir. It won’t survive.”

Thor glances at her, but nods, holding it more defensively, as if to ward off an attack.

The portal pulses once, and the shadows coalesce around a lithe woman. She shares his green eyes and dark hair, but while his is maintained hers is ragged, blowing in a nonexistent wind. She’s pallid and her face is emaciated, yet her smirk is strong and she holds herself regally, tall and proud.

“So,” she announces blandly, “he’s gone.” The portal behind her collapses as soon as she fully steps onto the planet. She eyes them, then glances around at the world. “A shame. I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

Even though Frigga obviously knows this woman, she never shared her existence to them. However inquisitive Loki is, though, he’s not about to draw her attention towards him.

Fortunately, that’s what Thor’s good at, the oaf. “And who are you, to speak so disrespectfully of the Allfather?”

“Never mentioned me, did he?” She flicks nonexistent dirt from her poison-colored outfit. “And who are you, who says his name so proudly?”

“I am Thor, his firstborn.”

She looks down her nose in a way that impresses Loki. “Firstborn. You don’t even look like him.” Her gaze flickers to Loki. “You, a little.”

Well, since the attention is on him anyways. “I don’t suppose we can come to a peaceful arrangement.”

She snorts. “You sound like him.” Her eyes flit to Frigga. “She knows. Neglect to inform your sons of the truth?”

Frigga meets her gaze willfully. “This is Hela, Odin’s daughter.”

“His true firstborn,” she verbally jabs at Thor, “and rightful inheritor of Asgard and all its territories.”

He can see Thor tense up, but then a voice from behind them distracts them all. “Wow, you’re exactly like your dad, aren’t you.”

Hela’s eyes narrow as Loki risks a glance back. It’s a young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Midgard-born, based on his simple clothes, but there’s an aura of power that has Loki’s hackles up. He slips between them, and Loki notes that Frigga slips something from her fist into his hand as he passes.

“Thor,” the guy nods, moving in front of the three of them.

“Danny, I–will not ask how you’re here, but this is dangerous.”

“Yeah, I might just die of boredom.” He crosses his arms, smirking at Hela.

“And who are you,” she sniffs disdainfully, “his last born? The runt?”

“Wow, rude much? And here I was gonna tell you a story.”

“A story,” she repeats flatly.

“Yup.” He pops the ‘p’ in the world. “I mean, haven’t you ever wondered where you come from?”

There’s a moment of silence. Loki glances at his mother, but she shakes her head. If that’s the case, then who was Hela’s mother?

“I am Odin’s child.”

“Yeah, but who’s your other parent?”

She opens her mouth, freezes, then frowns down at the boy. “It was eons ago,” she answers slowly.

“Yeah. Back when Asgard was a piddly little town and Odin had delusions of grandeur.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “He had a hella time finding this place.”

He’s smirking at his words, but Hela doesn’t look amused. She tilts her head to the side, then swift as a snake swings her arm. A black, tooth-bladed sword–a necrosword, Loki recognizes from the vaults–launches from her palm and she’s swinging to behead the insolent boy.

“No!” Thor goes to dive forward.

“No.” Frigga echos, shifting her grip to hold Thor back.

Loki is ready to teleport the fool away, except against all odds, Danny arcs back just enough that the tip of the blade misses his throat by millimeters. He’s spinning on his heel, twisting around, pulling his hands out of his pockets and as she swings again he catches the blade between his palms.

Thor looks stunned.

Hela looks curious, and a little infuriated. “Not just a talker.”

“I mean, I hella like the sound of my own voice, but I know how to handle a sword.” He releases the weapon as another sword appears in her other hand and swings towards him. This time he spins away and when he stops to face Hela, there’s a blade made of ice curving up to parry her next blow. “My teacher’s hella good. She has four arms.”

Hela snarls and twirls around before charging him.

“Maybe fewer puns would be in order,” Loki suggests dryly.

“I mean, when else am I gonna get to make all these hella good jokes?” He actually leaps over her next slice at his torso, though his own weapon is merely defensive in its maneuvers. Still, he’s holding his own. It’s impressive.

“You have spent too much time with the Man of Iron, Starkson.”

“Ugh, stop calling me that, seriously. Just Danny.” He ducks, dropping to the ground and somersaulting away as both of Hela’s swords sail by above him. “It’s hella annoying and technically hella wrong.”

“Wrong?” Thor tilts his head.

“Yeah, it’s–you know, long story, but I’m here to tell a different one so…” He leaps forward, catches his sword around her two in the little divots of their bladed fangs and flips them out of her hands. She stretches her arm out just as he says, “That’s it! No more fighting today.”

She sneers. “And you think,” she pauses, glancing at her hand. She holds it out again, but no blade appears. “That,” she growls, “is an impressive trick.”

“I know, right? That’s what you get for interrupting storytime.”

For someone that Frigga feared, she doesn’t appear that powerful after all. A Midgardian child has disarmed her without even a proper spell. Loki conjures a dagger and finds he can do so. “It appears it’s not a trick that extends to us.”

Danny looks back at them, unconcerned that he’s turning away from his opponent. “Uh uh, ice-boy. This is between me and Hela.” She’s marching forward as he talks, but just as she moves to strike, she pauses, then seems unable to move at all. “And see, Thor? I’ll be fine.”

Thor’s gaze travels between the two. “I can see that, but I’m unclear why.”

Danny’s eyes drift over to Frigga’s, and something cold and determined flashes behind his gaze. “Well let me tell you a story.” He turns back around and steps back. Hela unfreezes, glares at the boy, and mirrors his retreat.

“Very well,” she hisses, “where am I from?”

“See, Odin wanted to conquer the universe, but way back when, Odin was just a two-bit Asgardian with little power and an ego the size of Loki.”

Maybe he’ll just throw one dagger at the boy.

“So he searched the universe and found this little ball of rock, the only naturalish doorway between this universe and the Infinite Realms.”

Hela crosses her arms. “You mean the realm of the dead.”

“No, I mean the Infinite Realms. Sure, most of the dead go there, but it’s more than just one realm. What, you think your little prison was all there was?” At her glare, he shrugs. “I visited once. You were napping, figured I’d leave while the going was good.”

“So you know where I was trapped.”

“I know all about it. Odin went to the very precipice of beyond, and instead of looking down the cliff like everyone does, he looked up. He looked, and he called to the Realms and demanded the power and wisdom to rule the cosmos.”

“And my mother responded.”

“No one did. He spent like, a century yelling into the void. But you yell into infinity enough, someone’s gonna hear. So a being of infinite time came and offered the seed of wisdom. Over the centuries he would learn that conquest was not the best way.”

Hela bared her teeth. “It is the only way.” Her eyes travel to the eclipse. “So it was not his idea.”

“Nope. The timekeeper said he could see all the wisdom he would need and gain all the power possible, but he would have to accept whatever offer the next being would have.” Danny glances up as well. “So next came a blind haggard old ghoul named Pariah Dark, the outcast of the Infinite Realms. And he said if Odin offered him one eye, they would be linked; for the Realms are a mirror of the universe. With the power of Odin’s eye-–seriously, your guys’ body parts are a hella power-up-–he could conquer the Infinite Realms. If he did so there-”

“Odin would do so here,” Loki finishes. Interesting. He might have to find his own being in the Infinite Realms. Strike a better bargain, obviously…

“Someone smack him, he’s plotting,” Danny called.

Thor, unfortunately, listens and slaps the back of his head. Loki glares in response. Definitely going to stab the little cur speaking now.

“So Odin lost an eye but now had the wisdom of all time-–letting him see the best battle strategy, the best target, the best way to rule long-term-–but no power. A fate to rule all, but still lacking a weapon.”

Danny slips one hand into his pocket, then pulls it out and places the fist over the back of his other hand. Loki can just make out a strange orange glow between his fingers.

“Is this leading somewhere,” Hela finally asks, taking a seat on a stone and looking eminently bored. “Some of us have places to go, billions to slaughter.”

Danny grins again, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “Time moves differently in the Realms, so when Pariah Dark returned, he looked…well, like Odin would in the future. And he brought with him a weapon. The greatest warrior of the Infinite Realms with the bits of flesh he didn’t need from Odin’s eye forming a body so they could live on this side of the universe.”

Hela’s eyes lock onto Danny’s. “What did you say?”

“See, your flesh was grown from Odin’s eyeball, so you technically were his daughter. It’s just you were a dead being first.” He shrugs. “Pariah was all powerful at the time, and following the rules? Wasn’t for him. Thus, Hela was born, and the war of conquest began.”

It’s certainly not like any of the stories Odin told them. He wonders if there’s even any history of Odin and Hela conquering the universe. Still, whatever this child had hoped to accomplish, Hela looks strangely pleased.

“So what I’m hearing,” her words promise warm pain, “is that I have claim to this Infinite Realm as well as Asgard.”

Danny pulls his hand back, and Loki can just make out a dull orange jewel clenched between the teeth of an obsidian skull protruding on the ring. His smile is decidedly wicked. “Except that Pariah Dark was a selfish bastard who never wanted to share power. So he made sure the weapon he gave Odin was one that could never be used against the High King of the Infinite Realms.”

The shadow of the eclipse seems to move, and as it does Danny’s hair shifts from black to a stark white, undulating in its own wind, or perhaps like fire. A crown of tarnished silver slowly reveals itself atop his head, an ethereal blue flame flickering around it.

Hela leaps from the stone like it burns. Her sharp nails curl like claws as she hisses. “You can’t be Pariah Dark!”

“Him? No. The Ancients sealed him away, and some fruitloop woke him up.” His eyes turn toxic bright green, akin to the portal Hela had stepped out of earlier. “When I defeated him in combat, by the rules of the Infinite Realms I became the new High King.”

Thor beside him sucks in a breath. “The price.”

Frigga shifts her hand to his shoulder. “He welcomed it.”

Loki is obviously going to have to bug Thor to find out what that little exchange was about.

“So I’m to, what, bow to you,” Hela sneers. “Some whelp with a crown?”

“No.” The jovial tone from before is gone. In its stead is a sense of authority. “You can return to your cage, Hela. I’ll even send you your dog so you’re not alone.” With some humanity returning, he adds, “Odin was a real dick, keeping that from you.”

“And if I refuse? You'll fight me? To destroy me you have to destroy Asgard,” she crows.

“Yeah, about that,” he lifts his ringed hand to the side, and the orange stone glows, “you’re only tied to Asgard as long as your soul resides in a body forged from Odin’s.”

“You think you can kill me? You’re just a-”

It’s a flicker. One moment Danny is twenty feet away, the next, there’s another ice sword in his hand plunged deep into her breast, the orange glow of the ring infused into its blue core. She gasps, and when he pulls the sword out he sees an aura of green now around the icy blade.

Hela’s body slumps to the ground like a puppet without any strings. Seconds later it's quietly collapsing into a pile of tiny obsidian shards. The placid lake from before seems to surge up briefly, and as the waters subside back to eerie tranquility, there’s nothing left of Hela, firstborn of Odin.

Nothing but a glowing green sword. Danny stares at it, lets out a sigh, and when he turns around it’s gone, along with the crown, the strange hair and eyes, and even the jeweled ring. In its place is a strange cobalt band, almost the same color as the blue fire that surrounded the crown.

“Sorry I was late,” he says with a disarming smile. “It’s a bit of a journey from…well, where I was.”

Thor steps forward, but when Danny glances at him he stills. “I don’t understand. How…when…?”

“Like I said, it’s a long story.” He glances at Frigga. “I wasn’t going to…if I wanted to save some people, I…had to make some hard choices.”

“Like becoming a king,” Loki snarks, “so hard, all that power, all that command.”

Danny stares at him with eyes so dead they make him want to shrink back. “You really don’t understand power, Loki. I hope you’re never burdened with it. Glorious purpose can become wretched damnation before you realize it.”

There’s something in the voice, in the way it echoes, that sends shivers down his spine. He decides, for now, not to antagonize the strange High King.

“What,” Thor hesitates, then attaches his favored weapon to his belt, “what happens now?”

The boy king inhales deeply, then lets his shoulders slump as he lets the air out. “Now, I take her soul and put her back in her cage. Without a body she’ll be stuck, never to be free. If you could have Heimdall send Fenris here I can at least keep that promise. Sometimes a dog is all someone needs.”

Loki doubts it, but again, not poking the bear, so to speak.

Danny looks back at Frigga. “Thanks again for taking Odin…for having his death have meaning.”

“You saved my life, and now all of Asgard. It was the least I could do.”

He grimaces. “It’s not over yet. Did you bring it?”

Loki exchanges a confused look with Thor, then an alarmed one as Frigga draws the Tesseract out of magical space. She hands it over. “What will you do with it?”

“Leave it here,” he says, glancing at the blue cube. “It’ll save someone else when they find it.”

Frigga smiles. “Always trying to save someone.”

“When I can.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “When you return,” he looks at Thor, “you need to find the Grandmaster’s world. Hulk’s there, and it’s time for Doctor Banner to come home.” He offers a half smile. “You might discover some lost treasures of Asgard there, along with Odin’s last lesson.”

“I…don’t quite understand, but I will find Banner and bring him home.” He steps forward again and this time Danny doesn’t stop him. He hugs Danny briefly, and whispers something. Danny looks surprised, then smiles and hugs him back, offering his own silent words.

When they separate, Thor approaches their mother with his arm out for her. She bows her head towards Danny and lets Thor walk her a few feet away.

Loki goes to join them, only to find the strange child beside him. He keeps himself from startling, but does take a step back. “Something I can help you with, your highness?”

Danny wrinkles his nose. “Don’t call me that. You should go with Thor. I think it’ll help.”

“And why would I do that?”

A mischievous twinkle enters his eye and he crooks his finger at Loki to lean over. He considers, briefly, snatching the Tesseract from his hands, but decides not to test his luck today as he leans down.

Danny whispers into his ear, “Let’s just say Hulk will find Thor to be a puny god.”

When Loki jerks back, he sees a new grin on Danny’s face; the grin of a younger sibling.

Oh. Oh. Loki grins back. “Well, then,” he straightens up, “we’ll have to meet again sometime.”

“We will.” It’s said with assured confidence, and then like a ghost he vanishes into the ether.

Loki didn’t even sense the magic. Oh, he will definitely have to learn more about this child from Thor. After he enjoys the show, of course.

Chapter 12: Phase III: Gamora Zen Whoberi Ben Titan

Chapter Text

“What you seek,” the strange red skulled apparition intones, “is not here.”

Gamora’s heart seizes at that. It’s impossible. She knows her information is accurate.

Thanos takes the words as betrayal. “Your sister will suffer for this,” he chides her gravely.

“No!” She reaches forward to grasp the floating being, only for her fingers to slip through. “This is the world of the Soul Stone!”

“It is.”

She pauses, as does Thanos. She repays the words in her head again. “Someone has already claimed it,” she breathes out.

“Who?”

The skull-being seems to delight in his next words. “It’s not in my nature to divulge past recipients, only greet those seeking it and explain the price for such power.”

Thanos’ hand-–the one without the Infinity Gauntlet--curls into a fist. “By paying this price, can I summon the stone?”

“Now that it’s beyond its home, it must be obtained as all the others: by force.” The creature lets out a hideous chuckle. “I wish I could see the battle.”

As Gamora steps to the side to let Thanos approach the apparition, a glint of light behind a stone by the stairs catches her eye. She shifts to move closer. “Why would you?”

“The Mad Titan and the High King. Legends speak of such a battle.” It closes its eyes. “And if all is well, I will finally be relieved of my burden.”

“I could do that now.” He lifts the Gauntlet, the Power and Reality gems gleaming in the strange aura from the eclipse above. “You would not be the first untouchable enemy I've defeated.”

“Only the Soul Stone can touch me.” The grin he offers Thanos is vicious. “And only the Soul Stone can touch the High King.”

Thanos clenches his hand, the gems glowing as the rocks around the apparition shift and shatter. Gamora takes the opportunity to dive for the strange blue light-–yes, the Tesseract! She grabs it and as she does she feels herself enveloped by its power.

It takes less than a moment to reorient herself seconds later, and she immediately recognizes Nebula’s cell. She’s been put back together, the torture stopped. There’s also one of the crew, startled by her appearance, and she’s snapped its neck before it even realizes how dire its situation is. “Nebula.”

She jerks one last cybernetic component back in place. “He found the stone?”

“No.” She glances at her hand. The Tesseract resonates quietly. “But I found a different one.” She knows Thanos had gone to Asgard to take the Tesseract, only to find the city well shielded and well defended, to the point that he had to retreat. There was a parting shot by the Asgardians, Thor’s thunder obliterating one of their invasion ships and the one called Heimdall using the Bifrost to send Cull Obsidian into a black hole.

The Black Order decreased by one, made even more painful by Loki contacting them afterwards to inform them the Tesseract had been removed weeks ago, and was somewhere else in the universe.

Since her capture, she’s seen the crew shy away from their master, including the Black Order. Frigga broadcast the attack across the cosmos, along with the invitation to strike the currently weakened Titan.

Thanos has not been pleased. There was news, just as they arrived here, that the Ravagers–-likely with Quill’s encouragement-–took up Frigga’s call, and Corvus Blade and his invasion force had been killed. That any fleet was able to take down a member of the Black Order will spur others to try and do the same.

Thanos has made plenty of enemies over the centuries. The Guardians will be attempting to draw them all into the fight.

She doesn’t know where Ebony Maw or Proxima Midnight are, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

“Do you know how to use it,” Nebula asks, reaching for the cube.

“It brought me here on its own.” Thanos would’ve noticed her absence by now. He’s undoubtedly on his way back. “We have to steal a ship.”

“No.” Gamora glances at her. “We need to destroy this ship. Without it or the Space Stone he’s trapped here.”

Gamora considers that. There is water on Vormir, but no life. The shuttle will take Thanos far, but with the limited engines it could be months before he reaches another habitable planet.

On the other hand, there are tens of thousands of warriors on board, including potentially his other two Children.

It could be suicide.

It could also save the universe. “What’s your plan?”

Her sister rolls her eyes. “Fight our way to the engines.” As if brute force were all they needed here.

“He’ll be back before we can make it.” She examines the cube. It transported her once, maybe at the thoughts of her sister. “Here,” she holds the cube so her sister’s hand touches one side. “Think of the engine room.”

That gets her a disbelieving look, but she can sense the resonance of the cube changing, shifting. There’s a cloud of gray and blue and then an echo of shattering as the universe vanishes.

They appear on a desolate rock to the sound of a howling void.

Definitely not the engine room. Gamora wishes she had her sword, glancing around the eerie place. There’s a purple aurora above and shades of green among the edges of the dark sky. The bit of rock they’re on lies before a large building of some sort, stone, maybe a fortress. Not thirty feet away is a cliff, with a stranger standing by its edge.

Nebula is already moving, dashing forward to slip her arm around the neck of the stranger, likely to snap it.

Only when she jerks her arm back, it slides through the figure and her sister falls to the ground. If Gamora weren’t so concerned at the situation she’d probably laugh.

The figure, with strangely hypnotic-moving white hair and an alien armor of black metal turns. “Oh, you’re here.” He nods once. “Good.” He doesn’t relax, but something shifts in a way that reminds her of Drax, when he’s no longer concerned over something. “I was worried the preprogramming didn’t work.”

“Preprogramming,” Nebula hisses as she leaps back to her feet.

“The Tesseract.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Or Space Stone, if you prefer.”

Gamora quickly looks to her hands, then the ground around her. She turns in a circle. There’s no sign of the blue cube, or even the glittering light of the gem.

“It’s not here,” the stranger calls to her, before turning his attention back towards the cliff. “Transporting you across the boundary without the Soul Stone shattered its casing. It’s probably right where you left it when you teleported.”

Nebula snarls, marching forward. “Then you left it in the hands of Thanos!” She swings her arm to hit the man. Once more it goes through him and she stumbles for a second before turning and trying to hit the man again. And again. Each time her limbs slide through like he’s a hologram.

He may just be one, given how he’s ignoring Nebula but answers steadily, “I know. It’s necessary that he has the means to escape.”

Without pause, Nebula tries striking with a wide kick. “We could have abandoned him on Vormir!”

The hologram scoffs. “What, with that shuttle? Using the Power and Reality Stones he would’ve easily supercharged the engines. It would’ve been an inconvenience.”

Gamora approaches from the side, reaching for a dagger that’s no longer there. “We could’ve taken out his armies.”

“Not before he got back to the ship. Besides, armies are easy.” The image glances at her. “I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed.”

It must mean Nebula, but she rewinds the moment in her head. He wasn’t paying attention to them. He was looking at something over the cliff.

Armies are easy, it said.

She glances over the edge of the jagged rocks, then calls out, “Nebula.”

Her sister, glaring at the image, calls back disgustedly. “What.” At her silence she glances over, then follows her gaze. A second of silence, and then her sister is beside her. “What,” her robotic voice intones, “is that?”

That is a literal valley of bones. She thought the cave on Ego’s planet was a nightmare, with thousands of skeletons, some decayed to dust, piled eight, nine-times higher than her head. The valley below shows no disintegrated bones, but the cliff is easily a hundred feet high, and the valley, she realizes, glancing at the large fortress behind her, is a moat extending around the structure.

A moat filled with millions of bones and millions of weapons, all piled haphazardly together and easily as wide as the canyon is deep.

“It’s an atrocity.”

“It’s an army,” the hologram corrects. It seems to sense their combined stare as it turns towards them.

“It’s a pile of bones.”

“It’s an immortal army Thanos can’t hurt or control.” A tarnished silver crown engulfed in blue flames appears above the hologram’s head. And there’s an orange shine on his finger, a ring with a skull, and in its mouth-

“The Soul Stone,” Gamora gasps. She looks at the hologram again. No. The words of the apparition come back. The High King. “You intend to eliminate Thanos’ forces.”

“When the time is right.” It–-he?--grimaces. “Two more planets will suffer before he gets to Earth. Recruiting.”

Between the losses at Asgard and Corvus Blade’s contingent, they’re down in strength. Still tens of thousands strong, but enough to go after the remaining Infinity Stones? After the apparition’s words, Thanos would want his full forces brought to bear.

Nebula realizes the truth first. “You’re setting a trap.”

It--he gets a faraway look in its neon green eyes. “Half a million more dead to ensure quadrillions survive.” He shudders. “Ancients.”

“You’re a coward.”

“I’m cheating.”

Gamora raises her eyebrow. “Cheating.”

The man looks at them, then sighs and sits on an outcropping of rock that suddenly appears. “Time may be linear, and some believe there’s a Sacred or True timeline, but really it’s…fragments. Probabilities. There’s the best outcome, but sometimes that best outcome…” He gets a haunted look.

Nebula sneers, but at Gamora’s wave backs down. She approaches and, after a second, squats before this young-looking king. Younger than Quill, but with the weight of centuries on its frame. “How do you mean?”

He blinks a few times, drawing back to himself. “If all had gone according to the planned outcome? You’re dead.” Nebula sucks in a breath somewhere behind her. “Thanos wins. Half the universe is gone and for five years people suffer. Then some heroes figure it out, undo the damage, but after five years…millions suffer at the return of so many in an instant. And millions more still die.”

He shudders again. “Including my Uncle,” he whispers.

Gamora glances towards the cliff edge. “But you can’t just end him?”

There’s a bitter smile at that. “Time has rules. Only two people can cheat. The Ghost of Time…and the High King.” He absently runs a hand over the skull ring, the Soul Stone flashing in response. “I wasn’t going to accept, you know. Who really wants to rule a realm of hundreds of fractured communities?”

Gamora feels her eyebrows raise again, but it’s Nebula that surprises her, collapsing to sit beside her squatting form. “Not hearing why you can’t just tear out Thanos’ throat.”

The person snorts. “It’s a chess match. Certain events can’t be stopped without things becoming worse. A small tweak here, a saved life there… Thor’s mom was the first. Then less damage to SHIELD, Vision, Wanda’s brother.” He glances past both of them. “The closer to the final event, the more I could change. A world-shifting political situation, a nation falling.” His eerie eyes return to Gamora. “You.”

“You can’t stop Thanos before it’s the right time,” Gamora concludes.

“Well that’s crap,” Nebula pouts.

Her sister is rewarded with a weak smile. “Yeah, it is. But if I want to build the best timeline, one where…where everyone’s safe–-where Uncle Tony lives and Gramps doesn’t get abandoned and Wanda…Wanda doesn’t break reality…” He takes a deep breath, smile fading. “I have to let so many suffer first.”

“Life is all about suffering,” Nebula contributes, a blade from…somewhere in her hand, craving absently at the stone beneath them. “Not like you can stop all of it.” She doesn’t look at the man. “At least you’re trying to diminish it without universal genocide.”

A weak chuckle. “Yeah, pretty high bar he set.” He turns his attention back to the cliff. “I just hate that…that I have to decide who lives and who dies. When Clockwork told me there was a price, I thought he meant my life, or certain goals in my life.” He folds his hands together. “The weight of the knowledge is the price. He knew–he can handle it. He’s designed to handle it. I’m, I’m just a…”

“A man,” Gamora offers.

“Barely. And by the end of all this…maybe not even that.” For a moment, the neon green fades to a beautiful shade of blue.

There’s a zing as Nebula finishes whatever she’s carving. “At least you’ll get to kill Thanos.”

The green returns to his eyes, and he looks from Gamora to Nebula, then straightens up on his rock. “Obviously you don’t belong here. This” he waves around, “was just a waystation.” He stands, and the rocks behind him vanish as if they were never there. “So now you have a decision to make.”

Gamora stands back up, and Nebula’s on her feet beside her in an instant. “What sort of decision,” she asks warily.

“Do you want to wait with me, and help take out Thanos in the final fight? Or do you want me to send you back to the Guardians?”

With a pang of regret she realizes she can’t go back to the Guardians, not because of some duty or honor, but because of her need for revenge. She’s not as good a person as Quill thinks she is, and no matter how much she would rather be with her new friends, she can't--won't let Nebula have all the glory in his death. She barely has to meet her sister’s eyes before, in unison, they answer, “Thanos.”

He jumps a little at their voices. “Right. Okay. Uh,” he glances skyward, “I…we have about two more days. I could send you to Earth now, or-”

“Do you have any weapons,” Nebula asks.

He blinks again, then waves up to the giant structure. “That's my Keep.” He waves to the cliff's edge. “And that’s my army.”

Her sister eyes up the Keep. “Got anything that can obliterate a titan?”

One of his hands shifts to scratch the back of his head. “I have one of the last necroswords from a formally unstoppable death goddess. I mean, I beat her, but no one else could.”

The grin Nebula gets is that of a pleased predator. “Show me.”

Gamora rolls her eyes. Sometimes her sister is so predictable.

Chapter 13: Phase III: Carol Danvers

Chapter Text

Earth really is beautiful from orbit. It’s literally breathtaking, and even just this moment of tranquility is a reminder of why she’s out there, fighting for a better universe. Someday, someday Earth will join the rest of them, and she wants it to be welcoming, safe. She has family down below, but she knows they’ll join her out here eventually.

And when they do, she wants to be able to take them across the universe without any fear for their safety.

She adjusts her trajectory and glances over the edge of the moon. Her part of the plan is simple, but even so she’s nervous. Stark offered a communication device, only to discover her power shorted it out pretty quickly. So she’s stuck here, out of communication having to hope the rest of the plan goes off without a hitch.

It all came out of the blue. Fury’s summons was not a summons by Fury, but a group called the Avengers. They met in a nation called Wakanda–-she’d never heard of it-–and a twenty-something child explained that Thanos was on his way for the Infinity Stones, and he had a plan of action to stop it.

Some of the Avengers knew who he was. Others were obviously creeped out or enthralled at the eerie echo of his voice and eyes so strange even aliens would find them disturbing. He was wearing an armor blacker than night, with a dark cape that somehow held a star field. Above his white hair was a tarnished metal crown burning with icy fire. On his finger was the Soul Stone.

He said he was a ghost, the High King of the Dead. Well, Infinite Realms, whatever that was; but essentially the dead. And with the Ancestors of Wakanda’s permission, he would protect the nation with his army, but he needed help.

The Avengers to take on Thanos and his children.

The Asgardian and Wakandan armies to clean up any that got through his own assault.

And for her, her job was the simplest of all: destroy Thanos’ ship as it arrived.

The blue alien, Nebula, asked if that’s why he left the Space Stone, a way out. The ghost-–King Phantom–-nodded, saying that without pinpoint accuracy, his teleport to the remaining stones should drop him near the capital, but not on top.

And that’s where they’d be waiting.

Of course, Thanos could surprise them by teleporting in ahead instead. Or he might not panic and be more accurate in his use of the Space Stone than anticipated. The ghost agreed, but also said he had to bet on the most likely scenario, there are no guarantees in war.

The way both Stark and Rogers–-Captain America, she had studied him in school–-exchanged glances, she wondered just how truthful the ghost king was being.

A flash draws her back to the present, and there it is: Thanos’ flagship. Easily six, seven times the size of the Kree warships she faced before, and with enough weapons to literally level half a planet. Two sets of wings on either side that converge at the tips, connected by a central axis alight with foreboding red energy.

She slips around Luna’s orbit, using every trick she knows to hide her power signature. It’s likely they’ve detected it, but with so many Infinity Stones nearby they might think it’s an echo from the planet. It’s why she chose the position she did. If she’s lucky, she can sneak beneath and slam through the center of one wing axis.

She’s not lucky. She’s exposed for less than a minute before energy canons start trying to target her.

Well, she never was one for subtlety.

With a silent war cry she ignites the power within her and jets forward.

They don’t get their shields up in time.

The ship is armored, but that just means the energy she summons burns brighter as she literally melts through it and punches up the hull. One level, two…all the way through one wing, onto the next. The vacuum of space has drawn a trail of Chitauri bodies and other minions from the hull breaches before they could be sealed. Weapons are firing, but she’s already inside the next wing.

She stops before exiting the last hull and turns, flying towards the central axis. Above her the skin of the vessel peels back at the heat of her power. A jagged scar cutting across the top of the ship as she aims to maximize the internal exposure to space.

According to King Phantom, she needs to make Thanos realize his ship is lost before it’s even in optimum orbit; before he can get detailed scans of Wakanda.

At the central spire she executes a ninety-degree turn and punches down, down, down towards the bottom. Oh look, a primary power coil. She blasts at it as she zooms by, igniting an entire deck behind her with a grin.

She exits the ship and has to begin weaving around weapons fire. She keeps close to the hull, both to confuse their sensors, but also in the hopes of having them self-inflict some damage. At the forward edge of the ship she skims up heading towards the usual location for the bridge.

She finds it. Thanos meets her eyes as she charges her hand to punch through the window.

He snaps just as her fist connects and exposes the room to space. A quick glance shows that he’s gone. She flies in, accessing what systems are still working.

Almost three quarters of the crew are gone. Probably sixty, seventy thousand soldiers are now on Earth. Rather than finish the job directly, she begins overloading the engines. She has the weapons systems target any ships: escape pods, fighters, invasion ships, everything.

When all the systems are set, she destroys the controls, then flies out the way she came in, moves under the ship and backs away. The engines are already glowing hot from her sabotage. She charges up a large blast and sends it directly towards the power build up.

In an atmosphere, the explosion would be deafening, if not catastrophic to the ecosystem.

Up here, it’s only catastrophic to the last vestiges of Thanos’ forces. And her. The blast sends her tumbling back. Not hurt, just a large shock wave. She checks herself over, then heads back to Earth. Asgardians may be strong and Phantom may have some sort of army, but Thanos’ is designed to overpower and exterminate worlds.

They’ll need every soldier they can get.

Through the outer atmosphere, through the inner atmosphere. Above the world and zooming in to Wakanda. To its capital. She can see its shield, glowing blue as Thanos’ army press against it.

It’s what’s above the shield that gives her pause.

There’s an island above it, as large as the city, floating through some strange purple and green aura--no, a hole in reality. Atop the island is a castle, imposing and dark. And emerging from that castle on all sides are hordes of armed skeletons. Eyes flaming green and crying out in horrible static as they crash like waves into Thanos’ forces.

She floats, watching for a moment, before spotting Phantom. He’s hovering above the castle, green eyes so bright they’re practically micro-stars. His cape is fluttering in a non-existent wind, and the fire of his crown has merged with his white hair, giving him a head of flame. There’s a sword of ice at his hip, and he holds the hand bearing the Soul Stone in front of his face, fist clenched.

He doesn’t look like the tired kid from the meeting.

He looks otherworldly, his teeth all pointed and sharp, yet prominent fangs standing out. His skin, once tanned, is now the same purple as that of a bad bruise. Ice seems to cling to his armor, and as she approaches the aura of frost makes even her shiver, as if the cold of space was practically a summer day.

She has no trouble believing he’s a ghost now.

He doesn’t look at her as she floats behind him, but she has no doubt he’s aware of her position. “Not contributing to the fight?”

“You have no idea how much energy and focus this takes,” he intones, with a brief nod to the endless bone horde. “If I try to go down and fight, I might slip up. Make this tear permanent.”

She glances at the wound in existence that is the castle and the outpouring of bone. “And when it’s over?”

“I call them back and seal the rupture.” His head tilts. “You should help them.”

She floats a little higher and sees that while Thanos’ army is outside the shield, at some point Thanos and his children teleported within.

There’s a noseless alien seeming to use telekinesis and magic to fight against War Machine, Spider-Man, Vision and Strange. Strange, before the battle, placed some sort of protective spell on their stones. It’s so far kept them safe and in their hands, but the noseless alien is holding his own against the four. There’s a blur of green heading for them, likely the fast twin.

On the other side of the field, the last daughter of Thanos is apparently trying to reach her father, but keeps getting distracted by the Winter Soldier, the Falcon, and the Widow. An arrow shows Hawkeye’s helping in the battle too. There’s a shifting shadow, and then the Black Panther is leaping at her.

A flash of lightning catches her eye and she turns her attention to the center of the field. Thanos is fighting against Thor, Captain America, and Iron Man. Every time he moves to snap his fingers the one called Ant-Man seems to leap forward and vanish, only for the Gauntlet to fail in its attempt. Red flares in the air as Wanda tries to access his mind, to neutralize him long enough for them to get the Gauntlet off.

Gamora and Nebula are there too. Nebula’s sword, dark and foreboding, gave Thor pause before she left, but otherwise she’s been landing hits. She can see bits where the blade landed, the Titan’s blood staining his armor.

It’s more of a standstill than anything. If Thanos’ army were part of the fight, she doubts they’d be as successful as they are.

A cry pierces the air. The last daughter has just been stabbed by her own weapon.

At the same time, Spider-Man is knocked to the ground and rocks slam on top of him.

Thanos grabs Captain America’s unshielded hand and crushes it. The man only grits his teeth.

She charges up and flies directly towards the noseless one. He’s distracted by Vision, doesn’t see her coming. He deflects one of Strange’s odd golden blasts. She sends a blast of her own that strikes him in the back, burning away his armor. He flicks around and stabs a finger towards her.

Needles of air fly in her direction, and she crosses her arms to shield her face.

A flash of yellow light as she rolls out of the way. The needles sting but don’t penetrate. When she looks again, the hand that pointed at her has been cut away by Vision’s beam.

She plunges into the rock pile on the ground and reaches forward. She finds Spider-Man’s hand soon enough and with a flex of power has the stone around him disintegrated.

“Woah,” he says. “You know, that’s twice in a year I’ve been buried in concrete.”

“Maybe you need to learn to dodge.”

“I mean, usually I’m pretty good at it.”

She just looks at him and he holds up his other hand, getting to wobbly feet. “Honest! It’s just…uh, sometimes I’m caught off guard?”

“Maybe keep to smaller threats until your voice drops.”

“Hey! Mister Stark called me here for this.”

She glances around the battlefield. “Probably shouldn’t have.” There’s a brief blur and then the fast twin-–what was his name? Peter?--is before them.

“The kid alright?”

“I’m fine, Pietro.” He shakes his head. “Though when did you learn to duplicate?”

She exchanges a look with the speedster. “You seeing double?”

He holds up a finger and thumb. “Maybe a little?”

She sighs. “You get him to the fallback group, I’ll handle the creepy guy.”

“Yes ma’am.” His accented tone is teasing and tad flirty, but he grabs Spider-Man with minimal protest and is back a second later. “So how fast can you fly?”

“Faster than you.”

There’s a gleam in his eye. “Wanna bet?”

“Perhaps it would be better to flirt later,” Vision interrupts from above them. “I believe if we strike as one from multiple angles we can neutralize him.”

“As usual I’ll go low.” Pietro winks at her and zooms forward.

She glances at Vision, then flies in the opposite direction. Strange is already in position, distracting the alien. There’s a still moment, and then Vision uses his energy beam. She uses her own, as Strange unleashes a strange chant along with bright orange energy. The alien is straining, but keeping them at bay with nothing more than the strength of his mind.

A beam of super-heated plasma streams down directly above from War Machine and strikes dead-on.

The resistance vanishes and there’s an explosion as all four energy sources converge. When the brightness fades there’s absolutely nothing left of the noseless alien.

Pietro is by her side again. “So, after we kill the purple one, share a drink?”

She lets him down easy. “You’re a bit young for me.”

He shrugs. “Got to shoot your shot.” And then he’s run off.

She follows his trajectory. The other daughter of Thanos is also dead. An arrow in her eye and her throat torn out. And Thanos…Thanos is being held in place by Wanda, whose red energy is surrounding him, pulsing against his power and will as the others are pulling on the Gauntlet. He’s using what strength he has to keep hold, and it’s working.

Wanda’s focus seems to be weakening, too. She’s about to go lend her strength to the others when Nebula leaps above the fray and brings her sword down, severing Thanos’ arm from his body.

After that it’s almost anti-climatic. Thor pulls the Titan’s hand out of the Gauntlet. Strange snatches it from him and flies off, using his magic to remove the stones from the device.

Gamora joins Nebula beside the mad Titan.

“So much for inevitable,” Nebula taunts.

They strike as one. Gamora punctures his heart. Nebula severs his head.

It’s hard to believe it’s over. That it was so quick. Which is when she hears Strange call out, “Phantom, no!”

They all turn to Strange and see Phantom has taken the Gauntlet. “If I can’t destroy it, there’s a vault on the other side. It’s fine.”

“You don’t know the power you’re holding.”

Something ancient and unknowable flashes in those green eyes. “I know exactly what I’m holding, Sorcerer. That’s why it’s going to be locked away where no one can access it.”

“It belongs in a Sanctum.”

“You mean the Sanctums that were recently breached and destroyed by Dormammu?” At Strange’s gobsmacked look, Phantom nods as if he’s won the argument. “It’s hard to get to the Infinite Realms, and there aren’t natural portals where this will be. It’s safer there.”

“And what of you,” Thor calls. “Where are you going, High King?”

“I have some things to finish on the other side. Rival to neutralize, fruitloop to stop.”

She floats up in the air, hearing the sound of strange energy discharges. The skeletons are…incinerating the alien bodies outside the shield. A quick circle and–-yeah, all of Thanos’ forces are dead.

“You will return,” Black Panther calls as Phantom starts to retreat. The ghost pauses and looks back. “You still owe Wakanda for their aid.”

“And it’s time we talked,” Captain America adds, cradling his broken hand.

Phantom eyes the Captain, then the Panther, and then, finally, Iron Man. The hero's helmet retracts and whatever it is Phantom sees in Stark’s face, it seems to make him deflate. “Yeah, okay. It’ll take a day or two. I promise not to ghost you.”

And then he’s flying into his Keep. The skeletal hordes flow up the shield, covering the entire field in an eerie green and white light, and then with a strange echoing crack the skeletons, the castle, and hole in reality are all gone.

All she can do is cross her arms and say, “Earth’s gotten weirder since I left.”

Chapter 14: Phase III: Peter Parker

Chapter Text

Okay, so this internship with Tony Stark is totally a cover for his activities as Spider-Man, but some days, some days it actually means being an intern at Stark Industries and he gets to play in amazing labs! Develop new webbing! Work on his suit! Help create a new Iron Man suit! Punch a dummy of Captain America over and over for-–okay, he’s still not sure why, but Mister Stark said it was very, very important.

Other times, though, he’s an intern at Stark Industries. Fetching coffee. Backing up systems. Collecting information and codifying data into a succinct report for Mister Stark and, once, Miss Potts. Which was terrifying. She’s a terrifying, terrifying lady who can walk on heels that he’s pretty sure can be used to kill.

He’s seen Miss Potts and Black Widow laughing at lunch together. He’s absolutely positive the Widow has trained the CEO to murder with her million dollar shoes.

Which means that when he’s flown to Wakanda with the other Avengers–-in costume, since no one else knows he’s totally underage, but not that underage, you know?--and finds out there’s an alien invasion coming and a ghost–-!!!--is leading the counter-offensive, his mind is truly blown.

Ghosts. Ghosts are real. MJ isn’t gonna believe a word of it. Ned might. Ned’s parents might be more than a little superstitious and helped a family friend find a priest to conduct an exorcism.

Phantom doesn’t look like any ghost from any movie he’s seen. He looks like a tired college student. Half the adults in the room aren’t really sure why they're listening, and the other half are rapt and taking notes, helping construct the teams for the battle to come and poking holes in Phantom’s battle tactics.

Apparently, the plan was sheer overwhelming numbers to beat Thanos’ army. That and a superweapon from space. Which arrived at just that time bearing the name Captain Marvel.

Thankfully, KAREN helped mute the overwhelmed sound that came out of him. Ghosts and aliens and now a superhero from space! His life was so cool!

The battle itself, not so cool. Sure, he could swing about some, especially when the Voldemort-reject started throwing entire blocks of land around, but it wasn’t exactly the skyscrapers of New York. His agility only goes so far when he doesn’t have a nice place to shoot a web and swing away. Which is why he ended up re-enacting that moment when he honestly thought he was gonna die from Vulture’s plan in that parking garage.

It was just a little panic attack. Really, he’d have gotten himself out. KAREN was already telling him to focus on his breathing.

It’s after he’s away from battle that things resolve ridiculously quickly, and he’s brought to a Wakandan infirmary where they fix his minor–-totally minor, Mister Stark, no need to call Aunt May!--concussion in just a few minutes and give him a juice box.

Captain America didn’t get a juice box. Then again, he got the good drugs once it was discovered how much damage Thanos had done to his hand. And arm. And shoulder. And then his jaw after the Soldier punched him for being an idiot. With the non-metal hand at least.

What he’s getting at is he’s done the hero part of his internship, and there’s no lab he’s allowed near, and he’s not going home since apparently they’re waiting on Phantom to come back, and he realizes no one has the full story.

So he decides to do the other half of his internship. Widow and Falcon and Captain America are always complaining that he talks too much. He doesn’t think so, mainly because it helps keep the bad guys off-kilter. But just because he likes to talk doesn't mean he can’t listen. He’s Mister Stark’s intern! Of course he can listen!

Even better, his talking is so endearing people just tend to tell him things.

It’s the suit. He swears it’s the suit. KAREN says it’s his confidence, that it’s good he’s practicing it so he can ask out MJ.

God, KAREN.

So he goes around to the Avengers, and Avenger associates, and everyone he can and gets a list together of what he’s found out. And then he–-okay, maybe he is getting good at faking confidence because a day later he calls a meeting and presents his findings. Mister Stark at first looks amused, until he starts skimming the compiled list.

No one had the full picture. Aren’t heroes supposed to be good at communicating? Then again, he and Mister Stark didn’t exactly do well to begin with.

So, what he discovered about Phantom was as follows:

One, he’s from Amity Park. After some event 11 years ago, probably the Fentons opening a portal to another dimension, ghosts start really invading the city. That’s when Phantom first appeared in modern times.

He’s absolutely totally bypassing that Wakanda has a legend of a ghost called Phantom that was present when the Library of Alexandria burned down. Or that his effigy was brought in from trade routes from China nearly a thousand years ago. That’s just coincidence. Total coincidence. Yup. 100%. Ignoring those notes entirely.

Two, with some digging–-”Pestering,” Doctor Strange grumbles–-no one really realizes what’s going on because the Ancient One warded the Amity Park within a month of the portal opening. The ghosts tend not to leave, and the world tends not to notice. Only those resistant to magic, magical items, or powerful ghosts can overcome that. Which explains why Black Widow never thought to look too deep into Amity Park when she first did her research.

She may be glaring at Doctor Strange a bit harshly over that.

Three, the Fenton's paperwork on ghosts psychology and sociology is trash, but the other parts–-physiology and technology–-are probably accurate, if maybe misinterpreted.

Four–-”Danny is Phantom,” Mister Stark interrupts. There’s some shocked and surprised looks, but Peter nods along. That’s what he concluded too. Phantom protected Amity Park, until he went missing for about four months, after which Danny Fenton moved in with Tony Stark.

“His parents murdered his younger sister in front of him,” the Winter Soldier adds quietly. Doctor Banner shoves himself off his chair and all but runs out of the room. Mister Stark looks horrified. The Soldier glances at him. “She was his clone, younger, but her own...she was like him. They figured they could test the final cure on her and…” He offers a resigned shrug.

There’s a strained silence. “f*ck your grandkid,” Mister Stark finally wheezes.

“Right there with ya.”

Peter waits to see if there’s anything else, before moving onto the next point.

Five, at some point he defeated the past Ghost King–-"Pariah Dark,” Thor names–-and became eligible to be the new king. He did this during the Convergence. This gave him some sort of power to see forward through time.

“No,” both Mister Stark and Captain Rogers say at once, glance at each other, then the Captain continues with, “no, he had some of that ability earlier. It just got…stronger.”

The strange green alien woman, Gamora, he thinks, speaks up. “It let him save people. Me. Pietro.” Wanda pales at that. “Frigga.” Thor nods.

Point Six is rather obvious, he’s powerful. Ridiculously so. “As is right for a High King,” Thor approves.

The Soldier pipes up again. “Just ‘cause he has it doesn’t mean he likes using it. It hurts him, sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Falcon crosses his arms, tone mournful. “We saw that first-hand at the Compound.”

And finally Seven, he doesn’t expect to live on Earth anymore.

“What?!” Mister Stark is on his feet instantly, stepping forward to grab the awesomely slim Wakandan tablet from Peter’s hands.

“Both the Soldier and Gamora made references to him not belonging here anymore after this Thanos thing.” Peter shifts back. “Does he keep his promises? Because if not, he might not be returning.”

“If I have to build a portal and drag him back myself I will.” Mister Stark is looking through all of Peter’s notes. “He killed the Goddess of Death?!”

“What, like it’s hard,” comes an irreverent voice by the window.

The entire room turns to stare at the intruder. Phantom–-no, Danny is leaning against it casually. Gone is the armor and white hair, though there’s more muscles than there were before the battle, and he’s taller by at least six inches. As if the weird transformation he went through bringing the horde of skeletons changed his human form as well.

Maybe it did. Ohhh, to be a fly on the wall when Mister Stark gets a new baseline for the guy.

Despite that, he’s found time to grab a fashionable suit of purple, so familiar it could be out of Mister Stark’s wardrobe. “So what’d I miss?” His eyes travel the room, landing on each and every person. There’s something weighted in that blue gaze. Evaluating, defensive. He’s leaning against the window without a care in the world, but he’s placed the ring with the Soul Stone out, the gem glowing faintly so they can all see it.

Mister Stark recovers first, tossing the pad aside. “You want to tell me something, kid?”

Peter just barely manages to catch the device and duck into a seat. His mentor and the ghost king in a battle of wills? He needs popcorn. And a better place to hide.

“Hi Uncle Tony,” he responds, tone still casual. “I accepted the crown of the High King. I rule the Infinite Realms.”

“No sh*t.”

“My ghostly mentor-–I guess, subject now–-is effectively the God of Time. He lets me see the future, and with the crown’s authority I can help shape the best one.”

“And is it?” That’s Captain Rogers, standing up to stand beside Mister Stark. “Is this the best timeline, Danny?”

Danny’s eye lingers on the Captain’s cast a moment, before meeting his eyes. “Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah, it’s the best one. You live. Uncle Tony lives. Everyone lives.”

“How many died to make it happen?” That comes from the Widow.

“A lot,” he provides as a non-answer. “And a lot less than the few quadrillion that would’ve died if Thanos had won.”

“And how do you weigh a life,” Falcon asks quietly.

“With the knowledge of Spock. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” Danny pushes off the window and waves to the city beyond it. “The many.” He points around the room. “The few.” He points to himself. “The one.”

“Bullsh*t!” Mister Stark strides forward. “You are not a sacrificial lamb! To stop half the universe from dying you had to let some others go, fine! Whatever!”

“Tony-” Rogers tries to speak up.

His mentor glares at the American icon. “We all have blood on our hands,” he hisses.

“Hey now,” Falcon stands slowly, palms out, “let’s all just take take this down a notch-”

“Back off, birdbrain. This isn’t about what was done to make this timeline happen.” He turns back to Danny then and pokes him in the chest. “It’s about my godson thinking his life here is over!”

Danny meets Mister Stark’s gaze and offers a small sad smile. “I’m the High King of Ghosts, Tony. I really don’t belong here.” He glances around the room, before his eyes land back on Iron Man. “Time moves forward.”

He can see Mister Stark process that, that phrase obviously meaning something, then snarls, “You weren’t even going to say anything, were you?!”

“It’s what’s supposed to happen.”

“f*ck that! Strange!” He spins on his heel. “You can see through time, right?”

“Yes, though it’s dangerous.”

“So’s pissing me off.” He points at the sorcerer. “Is there a future where Danny lives?”

“Tony, no-”

“I refuse-”

“It’s what’s right.”

“You don’t need some bullsh*t penance for what you did!”

“Before I risk going mad peering through infinity,” Doctor Strange says loudly over the arguing duo, “what exactly am I looking for?”

“Ghost of Christmas Future here is about to let himself go full ghost. Tell me he can have a future where he isn't dead that also doesn't end the world.”

Peter hops to his feet. “What?!”

Both of Doctor Strange’s eyebrows go up, but then he’s opening that weird amulet on his chest and green runes roll over his body.

“No,” Danny is shaking his head. “Time-”

“I’m not letting you just die,” Mister Stark shouts.

That stops Danny. “I’m already dead!”

“Half-dead!”

“Tony-”

“This what you meant, kid,” Soldier asks, stepping closer. “You think that’s what I deserve, too?”

Danny shakes his head again. “No, Gramps, it’s different-”

“You think I want to live in a world where I watch you die?”

Captain Rogers starts closing in on the half-ghost. “We may have some…issues regarding what you did, Danny, but-”

“Suicide isn’t the way,” Falcon finishes.

“It’s not suicide.”

“Suicide by proxy.”

Danny lets out a frustrated sound.

“Excuse me.”

The quiet voice of Wakanda’s King silences everyone, except for Doctor Strange whose hands and head are a blur, moving in dozens of directions at once with a buzz. It’s honestly a bit of a headache to watch.

The Black Panther still hasn’t stood from his chair. There’s no table here, just comfortable plush chairs and stools. Peter actually misses tables. In this moment though, the lack of table is giving the Panther not only the spotlight but a hell of a sense of gravitas.

“I asked Phantom here because he owes me and Wakanda for saving his ancestor.”

The Soldier ducks his head.

“Really,” Mister Stark puts his hands on his waist, “now’s when-”

“Enough, Stark,” Thor rumbles, finally standing as well to push his teammate aside. “This is a matter of kings.” When it looks like Mister Stark is going to object, Thor adds, “I owe Danny much as well, but as King of Asgard there are duties before all others. This is one such duty for the High King. Don’t interfere, for your sake and his.”

Mister Stark narrows his eyes, then huffs and crosses his arms. At a jerk of the head everyone backs off, until it’s just Danny by the window, facing the chair holding Black Panther.

Something shifts, and Danny stands straighter, an aura of authority seeming to fold over him. “How can I repay Wakanda for its generosity and help? If it’s within my power, it’s yours.”

The King stares Danny down for a long moment. “What would best benefit Wakanda, is to have the brilliant mind of Daniel Fenton aiding the world in moving forward.” Danny stares at him. “My favor, High King Phantom, is for you to live your life, so you can see the future you’ve built.”

There’s another long moment. “That’s not fair,” Danny protests, “or what you were originally gonna ask.”

“I was going to ask to share your knowledge of the other side. And maybe aid our space program. You living would accomplish both.”

“I have dibs,” Peter hears Mister Stark mumble.

The King smiles. “And who said life, or death, was fair.”

Danny closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “What if my living dooms the world? Or the Infinite Realms?”

Other than the High King, as one they all turn towards Doctor Stranger. Peter crosses his fingers. Something of the atmosphere must trickle through because his movements slow, then stop. He lets out a long sigh. “The good news,” he announces without looking up, “is that Phantom’s presence on Earth won’t harm either side.”

There’s a feeling of palpable relief through the room, even as Peter asks, “So what’s the bad news?”

Doctor Strange looks up, but as he goes to speak there’s a shattering sound.

When Peter looks towards it, there’s a hole in the vibranium-treated window, a large bullet cartridge embedded in the floor, and a pool of red blood with green flecks coming from a gaping wound the size of a baseball in Danny’s shoulder and part of his chest.

The ghost king stares blankly at the damage to his body. “Hi mom.”

And Peter realizes, watching the man collapse to the ground, that they may already be too late to stop Danny from leaving them after all.

Chapter 15: Phase III: Scott Lang

Chapter Text

Scott wasn’t at the big reveal-all meeting. Scott wasn’t invited. Neither was Pietro, or Hawkeye it seems. Though Hawkeye–-Clint–-says he’ll get the important bits from ‘Nat’ later anyways. Besides, watching Captain Marvel fly away, the Power Stone in a carefully built vibranium container, was pretty awesome.

Loki came by too. He wove some spell to encase the Space Stone into a new Tesseract. It started out green, but shifted to blue by the end. He almost seemed discontented. He also stared down his nose at Clint and said, “You weren’t that disappointing a minion. Perhaps one day you’ll deign to forgive me for using you as one.”

Clint really looked like he wanted to deck the guy. Scott couldn’t blame him. Apparently, though, this was that jackass’ way of apologizing. Not that the Asgardian asshole waited around for Clint to accept it. The strange energy beam from the sky took the alien away before the archer could get a word out in reply.

Nebula is stalking around, glancing at the sky every now and then. She was invited, like Clint, but left it to her sister to deal with. “Someone needs to make sure the idiots don’t crash. Again.” Not very reassuring. But Pietro keeps buzzing around her and Clint is waiting to save his ass, so all in all, it’s a bit more entertaining than whatever Spider-kid wanted to share.

He’s definitely a kid, no matter what Stark says.

And then Nebula and Clint are on their feet staring at the sky. Scott squints but doesn't see anything. “What, those Guardian people here?”

“The shield’s been breached,” Clint answers.

He and Pietro exchange a glance when one of those terrifying guardswoman, Okoye, rushes down with two bags. “The ghost has been shot.” She tosses one bag at him, which he ‘oofs’ at and falls over when he catches it. Glancing inside, he sees his suit.

Okay, he’s still a little sore from dealing with Thanos but if that Phantom guy is hurt, it’s probably all hands on deck. “I thought this place was invisible.”

“It is. The bullet pierced both the shield and the window.”

There’s the sound of jets as Scott struggles to get the suit over his legs. War Machine lands and the face plate slides up. “Tony just linked in. He says ectoplasm is volatile enough to partially negate vibranium’s properties. And whatever anti-ghost tech they used seems to share similar effects.”

“That still doesn’t explain how they saw through the shield.”

“He said they likely targeted the highest concentration of ectoplasm. Vibranium wouldn’t shield from that.”

“It will in the future,” she promises.

“What’s the plan?” Clint hasn’t bothered with his suit, just strapped his quiver to his back and has his bow at the ready.

War Machine looks at Clint. “You shoot the tiny man at the ship out there.” He nods at Scott. “You get in there and disable it.”

“I’ll need to get closer.”

“What, you think I’m just here as a messenger? Hop on, Hawkeye.”

Scott finally zips up the suit and checks the Pym particle count. “I only got a couple shifts, man.”

“Vision’ll join us once everyone else is secure.” He’s moved in front of Clint and squats enough for the archer to get on his back.

“Not Iron Man?”

“He’s the only expert we have on the kid’s biology right now.”

“How bad is it?”

War Machine’s helmet snaps shut. “Bad,” intones the robotic voice.

“Swing back for me,” Nebula orders, that spooky sword of hers drawn from the scabbard on her back. “I’ll end them.”

“Orders are to disable, not destroy.” There’s a pause. “Phantom’s orders. It’s why I’m withholding my firepower for now.”

There’s a snarl on the alien woman’s lips, but she nods once.

“Itty-Bitty?”

“On it!” He takes a running leap and shrinks so he can land on War Machine’s shoulder. As they take off Clint pulls out the special arrow, the one they developed to deliver him from a distance. “What about the shield,” he asks on the radio.

War Machine answers. “They’re putting it down. Mainly because they’re not detecting the ship.”

“Some sort of stealth?”

“Not one we recognize.” War Machine tilts his head. “Stark says it may be ghost-based. If so we might not know it until we see it. I’ll be scanning the heat spectrum, see if that does it.”

“Who are these people anyways,” he asks over comms as he crawls into position and Hawkeye seals the arrowhead.

“His parents.”

Scott sucks in a breath at that. He doesn’t need to see Hawkeye to know the man is just as shocked. “What the hell, man?”

“Apparently they’re very anti-ghost.”

“He’s their kid!”

“There’s a reason he was living with Tony.”

Scott shakes his head. He can’t even imagine it. God forbid anything happened to his Cassie, if she returned as a ghost he’d still love her, still help her. He’d be thrilled just to have his kid back! How could anyone shoot their own child?

“Stark,” he overhears War Machine on the radio. “looks like it’s SHIELD stealth, maybe souped up with ghost tech. I’m high enough I can see the top. It’s some sort of…blimp.”

“Wait, won’t that explode when the arrow blows apart?!”

The flying hero pauses at Scott's outburst. “Stark says it’s not hydrogen. Hawkeye, take the shot.”

Scott hunkers down and holds on. He can hear the eldritch howl of the wind as the arrow flies, and only has a five second warning before the arrowhead breaks apart. Clint fired him at the connective joint between the balloon and the canopy. He leaps forward and slips between the tiny spaces between. Very tiny. It’s actually a squeeze, damn. Who engineered this?

He finds an entrance easily enough and starts looking for controls to sabotage. He’s hesitant, though. Some of the circuits have a neon green hue he’s never seen–-no, Phantom. His eyes had this hue. So did the blasts from that freaky skeleton army. Is this…ghost energy? Is this thing run by ghost energy? “Uh…is it safe for me to touch this-–what’s it called? Ecto-green?”

“Ecto-energy,” comes the young voice of Spider-Man. “And, uh, I wouldn’t recommend it cause we have no idea how it’ll interact with Pym Particles-–so cool you get to play with those and-”

“Focus kid,” comes from War Machine. “Tony give you anything to help him?”

“Yeah. Uh. Apparently Danny had, like, a copy of all his parents' work. They had something called an emergency ops center that could transform into a blimp and jet.” There’s a baffled silence at his announcement. “I mean, Stark-tech’s already pretty transformative using nano-tech. This isn’t too alien.”

War Machine lets out a growl. “I thought Danny trashed all their equipment when he left.”

“I’m guessing they rebuilt it and used the jet to get here,” Hawkeye chimes in. “How do we break the blimp?”

“Hmmm. Do you know where you are, Ant-Guy?”

“Ant-Man,” he automatically corrects. “I landed somewhere in the crease between the canopy and the balloon.”

“Oh. Oh, uh. Don’t touch anything. It’s like, all ecto-green there.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“Um, maybe try to find a way down?”

Scott sighs, searches around. After about two minutes he finds a ventilation shaft. “I might have something, standby.” He wishes he had his ants. He glances down. Well, it’s not like he hasn't nearly died doing this before. He leaps through the vent and tumbles down.

And down.

And oh–oh! That’s a normal floor! “Entering a room.” He hits the button in his hand, returning to his full size just as he exits the vent so he can land safely.

There’s a big man in front of him facing the windows with some sort of control console. He shrinks back down just as the man turns. “Honey, did you hear something?”

“No dear,” a woman’s voice calls back. Scott looks around from his perspective. Okay, the black-haired man has some features similar to Stark, but his broad shoulders and size are more like the Winter Soldier’s. “Any luck getting a new angle.”

“Almost in position!” He turns back to the controls.

Oh, not if he has anything to say about it. Scott runs forward and leaps into the air, aiming a kick at the back of this man’s head. He lands it. The man jerks forward, smashing his head against the panel. Scott barely has time to dodge back as the man twists around. “Damned spook!” He swings a metal bat around.

Perfect. Scott lands on it and runs down to the man’s hand. He doesn’t notice, eyes searching around. “Ghost breach!”

“Impossible, dear! The shield’s up!”

“Well something just hit me in the head!”

Scott makes it all the way up the man’s arm without him noticing. Oblivious, much? He pulls his arm back and charges forward, landing a solid swing against the man’s chin. His head snaps back. “Oh, think you’re so clever, huh? Well I got you now!”

Scott’s eyes grow wide as the bat swings straight at him. He’s leaping off the man as the stranger in the orange-jumpsuit literally knocks himself out and slumps to the floor. “Uh, pilot down,” he reports before pushing the button to return to full size to prevent hurting himself from the fall.

Something he regrets a moment later when a slim woman in a teal jumpsuit and red-tinted goggles–-similar to the Falcon’s, really–-joins them. “Oh! Oh you poor mistaken dear! Don’t worry!” She charges up a weapon that glows green. “We’ll get that nasty ghost out of you so you’re back to yourself!”

“Wait, don’t shoot-”

She pulls the trigger, and a light of green energy–-ectoplasm, most likely–-flies towards him.

He pushes the button to shrink down.

Nothing happens.

The shot hits. He feels it go through him. No, he feels some of it go through him. The rest of it supercharges the suit. His helmet is indicating a spike of exotic energy. He may be out of Pym Particles but his suit was saturated by them moments ago. And that remnant is interacting with the ecto-energy in a volatile way. Before he can even rip the helmet off he feels his body shift, like when he entered the Quantum Realm.

This is not the Quantum Realm.

While it’s a void of blackness, there’s an almost haunting aurora of violet lights, and within the darkness are shimmers of green. Large, purple-tinted islands float about. The nearest one has strange orange trees and what appears to be a step-pyramid within its jungle. In the distance, blobs of neon green with red eyes seem to be moving about like a school of fish.

It’s almost tranquil, with how weightless he feels. It’s also terrifying.

There’s the sound of clocks behind him, and a snide, echoing voice that teases him with, “You know what they say: go home and go big.”

Before he can ask the strange voice what that means he feels his body snap out of that inexplicable dimension. The ecto-energy, once supercharging the suit, has somehow been converted to Pym Particles. Only as he returns to reality, facing the surprised looking woman, he sees the countdown.

They’re hundreds of miles in the air.

And it’s not Ant-Man he’s about to become.

“I could use some help,” he calls over the radio just as his suit makes him expand and grow, becoming Giant-Man. Through the canopy. Pressing against the balloon. The entire structure of the airship starts breaking apart. He sees the woman fall out of the opening his enormous legs make in the hull, along with the unconscious man. And then there’s an explosion as he punctures the balloon.

“Targets are falling,” he screams, “and so am I!”

As the rest of the ship gets destroyed in the explosion he’s pushed away and the energy of his suit dwindles. He’s shrinking down as he falls. Oh, this is gonna hurt so bad. “Tell Cassie-”

“You’ll be home soon,” War Machine chimes in, catching him by his ankle.

“Oh thank christ.” His entire body goes lax. Then he stiffens again. “The parents-”

“I have them,” he hears Vision reply. “Though the woman is not very appreciative for the rescue.”

“Just get them to the ground.” War Machine tosses him up lightly which startles Scott, but ends with him in a bridal carry. “You good, Lang?”

“I thought I was dead.”

“What happened?”

“I dunno, man. That wasn’t the Quantum Realm, but it wasn’t here, either.”

“Maybe it was the Ghost Realm,” Spider-Man chimes in. “You were hit with ecto-energy, which is where that’s from!”

So where Phantom’s castle resides. It wasn’t the worst, but he’s not sure he’d ever want to live–-hah!--there. “Wherever it was, I’m not up for experimenting with it again.”

“You sure? Cause it could be fascinating-”

“Spider-kid, just let Tony know we got the targets. Any word on Danny?”

“Uh, Strange is doing some chanting? I’m not sure. There was talk of burying him in sacred ground?”

Scott lets his head fall back. Nebula, from his position, looks ready to stab someone at the news. “What a day.”

“And it’s not over yet,” War Machine warns as they land.

Chapter 16: Phase III: James Rhodes

Chapter Text

He hasn’t really needed to splash his face with water like this since his time in college with Tony, or that time Tony was first testing the suit, or that time he was dying–-okay, so maybe he does it a lot when Tony’s involved. The point is, on international issues, he’s usually cool as a cucumber.

This time not so much. The Fenton parents are in a cell. Well, a conference room but their hands are bound; especially after Nebula had to fight the mother into submission once Vision got them to the ground. Tony is outside, waiting for him. Rogers and Barnes are already there, guarding the prisoners. And T’Challa’s royal guard, Okoye, will be escorting the king himself once James shows up.

He hasn’t been this pissed at parents since Howard was such a jackass to his college-attending teen.

At least Howard never once tried to kill his own son.

Banner’s been escorted to a small retreat, with therapy goats and a tranquil pond. He’s been threatening to go green since the debriefing this morning.

Spider-Man and T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, are examining the bullet and fragments from the plane. The oil coating the bullet was likely blood blossom, according to Tony, but the metal is something new, something unknown. Danny’s still in critical condition, could still die, because they don’t know what it is other than ecto-related.

So now he has to be the diplomat, because the Wakandans see this as an assault on their king and kingdom. Barnes and Tony, and Rogers by extension, are practically ready to tear them apart limb from limb. And the rest of the Avengers? Have to be kept away lest they break their promise and kill the Fentons despite Danny’s wishes.

Wiping his face down, he tosses the towel to the side and walks out of the restroom. He takes the two minute walk to even out his breathing and bury the reactionary part of his personality. And not get worked up over the fact that they fired a .50 BMG cartridge, one of the largest bullets for a military sniper to use, to try and take out their son.

He’s seen those cartridges literally blow people’s heads apart like a watermelon. That Danny is even still alive–-dead? existing?--is a miracle.

When he gets to the room, he sees Sam Wilson there. At his raised eyebrow, the military vet indicates the door. “Figured you could use moral support for the de-escalation team.”

“Who’s escalating? I’m not escalating.” Tony replies instantly, jittery. “Just because I want to beat Jack’s head in repeatedly and blast Maddie out the nearest window-”

“Deep breaths, Stark,” Sam says. Tony glares at him but follows his orders, closes his eyes, and rolls his shoulders. “You’re here to figure out what they used on Danny, not your own revenge.”

“If I play nice do I get revenge later,” he snaps, but waves it off immediately. “Whatever, let’s go.”

James knows if he keeps delaying Tony will just work himself up into more of a frenzy. “We don’t talk until T’Challa’s arrives.”

“Fine, fine.” He’s already pulled out a phone to distract himself. Or take notes. Or, most likely, check on Danny’s status.

James nods, then opens the door and lets himself in. Tony is right behind him and Sam follows after that, closing the door. Jack, with a hell of a black eye he gave himself, blinks owlishly at them. The woman, Madeline, without her goggles has curiously purple eyes and doesn’t look angry at the situation, more sympathetic.

He heard what Lang said earlier. He wonders if she thinks they’re all possessed–-no, overshadowed; that’s the official term according to Tony’s quick ghost breakdown. Or maybe she just thinks they’re all fooled by Danny and his ghost half.

They’re about to find out.

T’Challa enters, and Steve and Barnes both stand from their seats. T’Challa glances at the Fentons, but they don’t get the message. Okoye seems ready to teach them about Wakandan respect, but a quick shake of T’Challa’s head has her standing down.

For an instant she looks like she sucked on a lemon, but it’s hidden behind a stoic mask almost instantly.

T’Challa sits at the head of the room, Okoye standing to his right. Steve and Barnes retake their seats to his left. Sam sits across from them, and after a second of debate Tony sits next to Sam. James waits for the king’s sign, and after another long moment, he nods.

He fights the urge to stand at attention. “Jack and Madeline Fenton. I’m Colonel James Rhodes.”

“The War Machine,” Madeline responds. “We do keep up with the news.”

“Then I presume you know the others here?”

She glances around. “Mostly.”

“And do you consider everyone in this room your enemy?”

“Of course not!” She sounds aghast. “You’re all just being fooled by that nasty ghost.”

“That nasty ghost,” Tony snaps, “is your son!” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and he subsides.

She gives Tony a pitying look. “I know that’s what you think, Tony, but it’s really not. It may have human biologic characteristics, but the ghost part, that core, is fully integrated in both of its forms. That means, essentially, it’s more ghost than human.”

“So that makes it alright to kill him?”

Now she shakes her head. “We warned it what would happen if Phantom fully took over. We can’t let a danger like that exist.”

“Danger?” That’s from Steve. “Ma’am, your son just saved this world, this universe!”

“By invading with a ghost army? By tearing a hole in reality? I know you’re from a simpler time, Captain, but such things weaken the boundaries between worlds. Obviously this was a test run. To see if it could fool you heroes, test your boundaries. And now it knows it can!”

“He,” Tony snaps.

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“He. Not ‘it.’ He.”

“I mean, it’s not fully-”

“He!” He slams his hands on the table. “It’s f*cking Danny down there! He has a name!”

“Danny died when," she struggles for a moment, "he…embraced the ghost side and attacked us.”

“You killed his sister!”

“Oh Tony, it’s not like it was really alive.”

Tony leaps out of his seat, but Sam’s there instantly, whispering for him to stand down, this isn’t helping, maybe take it outside.

James focuses on Jack, who’s been watching everything but saying nothing. “You penetrated Wakandan tech. From what we can tell, ectoplasm was part of how you did that. But ectoplasm alone wouldn’t have penetrated the window.”

“Well, despite the government rescinding the Anti-Ecto Acts,” Madeline answers with a scoff, “and all our funding opportunities disappearing, we knew one day our services would be needed to take out Phantom. So we developed our own special alloy!”

“Ecto-ranium,” Jack finally speaks up. “Using ecto-energy to create an antithesis to ecto-entities. Just by touching it a ghost starts to destabilize. A strike at its core and bam!” He moves to clap his hands, only he can’t in the cuffs. “Destabilized ghost! Not just gone, obliterated! The ectoplasm literally vaporizes!”

“Is that what you used on the girl,” Barnes asks quietly.

Madeline tilts her head in thought. “It was probably the first real iteration. We were still trying to preserve the human aspect.” She shrugs. “But when it became fully Phantom and not our son, there wasn’t much point.” Her eyes brighten. “Once we removed those restrictions, we were able to manufacture an alloy that was phase-proof, ecto-blast proof, able to pierce ghost ice-”

“How?!” Tony snarls at them. “Your lab was f*cking gone!”

Jack cheers up then. “Oh Vladdie helped us out! Heard we were in funding trouble and offered his old lab!”

“He even helped design the bullets,” Madeline adds proudly.

James makes a note to investigate ‘Vladdie’ later. “So how do we counter the ecto-ranium?”

They both blink at him. “Counter,” Madeline asks slowly.

“Yes, counter! We’ve got the blood blossom oil out but that casing skimmed Danny’s core!”

Madison beams. “Oh good!”

“Not good!”

Jack looks puzzled. “Why not? It means we just saved the world.”

“Phantom saved the world,” T’Challa replies. “You have just endangered it.”

Jack scoffs. “Killing a spook-”

“Say it one more time, Jack. I dare you,” Tony growls.

James puts a hand on Tony’s other shoulder, adding to Sam symbolic restraint.

Jack blinks again. “It’s never wrong to kill a ghost.”

“He is the High King of ghosts,” T’Challa explains evenly. “If he dies, you, a human, will have declared war on the entire realm of ghosts.”

“Oh, that’s easy! Stark manufacturing-”

“That realm of ghosts,” T’Challa interrupts before Tony can reply to the Fenton father, “just exterminated an alien army numbering in the tens of thousands. An alien army that threatened my people and nation.” He leans forward. “And you have thanked this service by trying to kill their king. You have just put my people in danger.”

“Well, with some of our designs-”

“We have people on the other side too.” Jack and Madeline both balk at him. “We speak with our ancestors, value their wisdom.”

“They’re not real,” Madeline’s voice is filled with pity. “It’s just evil ecto-entities trying to trick you.”

There’s a flash of fire in Okoye’s eyes. James would bet she’s furious enough to lash out and it’s only her loyalty to T’Challa and excellent training keeping her still. T’Challa, on the other hand, leans back in his chair. There’s a hardness to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

James decides it’s time to get back on task. “The ecto-ranium. Is there any cure?”

“It’s not something to cure. It’s an anti-ghost alloy.”

“I mean,” Jack tilts his head and closes an eye, “I guess maybe if it got back to the Ghost Zone, but it’d have to be a powerful ghost. The amount of ectoplasmic power needed to counteract the material doesn’t exist in this world.”

James feels his heartbeat increase. There’s no way they know how to get to the Infinite Realms. If that’s Danny’s only hope, it might be too late.

There’s a sudden knock on the door. The Avengers glance at each other, but it’s only after T’Challa nods that Sam goes and opens it.

Strange’s voice drifts through. “He’s here against my medical advice, but apparently he has Stark’s stubbornness.”

James turns then, and in front of Strange, practically being held up by him, is Danny. He’s naked from the waist up, and is covered in some sort of blood-red sand. There’s a large bandage of…magic, if he had to guess, where the bullet went through. It’s a cloth, but with glowing gold runes similar to what he’s seen Strange use before. There's nothing but a spot of solid light over the hole, dimming and brightening so slowly it takes him a minute to realize its happening.

More striking, though, is the lichtenberg scars. It starts at his hand and travels up his arm. Some of it is hidden by the bandage, but it obviously continues across his torso, likely down his back too. There’s also part of a dissection scar on his abdomen. And one that indicates someone tried to extract his liver with a blade. The rest don’t look surgical, but are still too many for a man so young.

Deathly pale doesn’t even begin to describe him. His eyes are a stormy blue almost exactly like Barnes’, and his hair is utterly limp. His legs are shaking and the ring on his finger is shining like a star. Almost gold. In fact, now that he’s noticed, the runes aren’t gold, they’re the color of the Soul Stone. They must be using its power to negate the ecto-ranium effects.

Tony’s out of his chair and moving to him but the kid holds up a shaky hand. He rests it against Tony’s chest, and after a minute Tony takes the arm and helps Danny step forward.

His eyes never leave his parents.

James hates to, but he looks. Madeline is frowning, and seems to be calculating if she can try and take him down in this situation. Jack is frowning too, but he’s eyeing the ring and the runes. James can see he’s making the same connection he himself did just a minute ago.

Barnes is up now too, moving to put himself between the parents and Danny, but not blocking his view.

“I was going to let you,” Danny finally says.

“At least something of our child still exists,” Madeline says derisively.

Danny closes his eyes. “You can’t even fathom it, the possibility that I’m still me.”

“I know you’ve tricked these-”

“Shut up,” he croaks.

Madeline looks offended that he dared to address her. “Young man-”

“No. No you don’t-–I stopped being your son the day you started torturing me. You don’t get to-to pull that authority bullsh*t now.”

“We just want what’s best,” Jack defends.

“What’s best,” he scoffs. “As if you know. You know what’s best? After you murdered my sister I decided I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my family again. So I sacrificed my future to save Tony, and his family and their allies. And the whole f*cking universe.”

He leans heavily on Tony after that. “They wanted to kill you, you know. They still do.” Jack and Madeline look alarmed at that. “They won’t, though. Because I asked. I begged,” he whispers.

Uncertainly, Jack asks, “Are we supposed to thank you?”

“I’m doing it because I’m not you. And I’m not the terrible monster of a ghost you think I could be. I faced that decision when I escaped, and I turned away because I’ve seen that future. It’ll never happen.”

Barnes has moved back, slipping his arm around Danny’s back and Danny’s arm over his shoulders. “What do you want, kid.”

Danny glances at him then turns his head away from his parents. “I wanted to see them one last time. I don’t know why. Closure? To show they failed? Whatever.” He lifts his eyes to T’Challa. “You win, your majesty. You’ll get your favor.”

“And what of them,” T’Challa asks in return.

James can tell Danny wants to shrug and only just stops himself. “They attacked me on your land, put you and your people in danger. It’s only right they’re punished under your laws.” He lowers his voice. “All I ask is no death penalty.”

T’Challa nods. “We will take it under advisem*nt, King Phantom.”

Danny nods once, then leans back, all energy seeming to leave him. “Uncle Tony, Gramps…can we go home?” James notes that Jack seems surprised at the ‘gramps’ comment.

“Maybe when you don’t look like death warmed over, kid,” Tony answers, half-carrying him out of the room with Barnes’ help. “Also, we need to deal with a Vladdie-”

“Oh, he’s locked away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.” James can practically hear the raised eyebrows from Tony. “One of the things I had to do before coming back here.”

“Isn’t he human,” Barnes asks.

“Naw, he’s like me. Except a fruitloop.”

James takes in Jack and Madeline’s stunned faces. It’s just a day for revelations it seems.

Sam closes the door as the trio exit, before retaking his seat.

T’Challa glances at James, who defers to him and sits himself down. “Very well. For violating our airspace, assaulting a royal guest, and putting the king’s life in danger, you will be imprisoned for a time no longer than your natural lives.”

“Now hold on-” Madeline snaps.

Jack nods and adds, “What about our lawyer?!”

“This is Wakanda,” T’Challa intones, “and I am king. You assaulted my guest, which is an assault on me. The penalty is death. It is only by your son’s plea that you will remain alive to see him thrive in this world.”

“That’s not our son,” Madeline scoffs.

T’Challa stares at her. “Believe what you must.” He stands. “Your sentence begins immediately. If we are forced to speak again, I fear it will be under less cordial circ*mstances.” And then he’s marching out.

Jack looks at Steve. “You’re Captain America! This isn’t right!”

“Funny,” the man says, standing up, “here I was thinking it was too lenient of a sentence.” He walks out with Sam, not even looking back.

The Dora Milaje are at the door when James stands.

“Nothing to say, War Machine,” Madeline sneers.

He glances at them. “You’re technically related to a royal ally. You’ll likely have a gilded cage as long as you behave.”

“You’ll see,” she says, undeterred. “One day, that monster will turn on you all.”

“Lady, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a worse monster than Thanos.” He leaves then, going to find Steve and Sam, and then a very large drink.

Because it has been a long f*cking few days.

Chapter 17: Phase III: Virginia Potts

Chapter Text

She remembers when she first met Danny, this beat up kid kneeling in front of a half-armored Tony wailing about his home and begging. She hates to admit that she screeched, threatening to kill Tony with her Louis Vuitton pump then and there for kidnapping a teenager.

Tony babbling that he was family, Danny apologizing for being so troublesome, and JARVIS even speaking up and saying nothing untoward was happening. She later apologized, of course, and JARVIS was kind enough to send her a picture of Tony’s terrified face when she threatened him with her heel.

She pulls it out on the really difficult days. It always makes her smile.

The Danny before her in the Tower looks even worse than the one she first met. He’s bulked up and is definitely taller than when he last saw her, but is still recognizably Danny. He’s got some cloth saturated with golden magic wrapped around part of his shoulder and chest, and a Wakandan cloak wrapped around the rest of his otherwise naked and scared–-oh god, the scars, as if he weren't enough like Tony already–-torso.

He’s also in nylon shorts and, when he spots her, seems to want to flush at his casual dress but just doesn’t have the energy. “Hey, Pep.”

“Danny.” She glances around. The last few days Danny's been surrounded by people. Tony primarily, but James-–no, he said to call him Bucky–-Bucky as well. The other Avengers floating in and about. Some with gifts, like Thor with the Asgardian healing crystal, and some just to keep him company, or confirm he’s alive; or as alive as he can be.

She always suspected there was something extra special about Danny besides his powers. Finding out he’s now the High King of all ghosts? She’s still not sure if that’s more and less shocking than finding out his parents were the ones to nearly kill him.

Today he appears to be alone. The strange Asgardian crystal hums in a way that sounds like purring. She reaches out to touch it, pausing to glance at him.

He lets out a yawn. “It emulates a ghost’s healing aura. Frigga and Loki put it together.”

“Loki?” She quickly pulls her hand back.

Danny gives her a half smile. “Younger sibling bonding. I let him see Thor get trashed. He loved it.”

“Danny,” she half-chides.

“I couldn’t help it.” He yawns again. “Sorry. The Soul Stone is augmenting my ectoplasmic needs to heal, but I’m still-”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” she says, sitting in a chair across from the couch he’s lying on. “I was here when Tony returned from the desert. He locked himself in his lab a lot, but JARVIS said he slept almost sixteen hours a day for the first few days.”

“In the lab on top of his equipment,” he replies knowingly. At her despondent sigh, Danny lets out a little laugh. “That’s Uncle Tony.”

She lets him resettle before gently broaching why she came. “Did you really do this to save him?”

He blinks at her slowly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not complaining,” she quickly counters. “I wouldn't know–-if I lost Tony–-we just got engaged. It would be-”

Danny lets out a long sigh. “It wasn’t just Tony. But after what happened with Killian, when I thought he was dead…” He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “It can take years for a ghost to form after someone dies. I just wanted to know if I’d see him again.”

She heard about this Time Ghost, one that let Danny see into the future to alter it. “And when you saw what the future held-”

“He did it that way deliberately. He knew I didn’t want the crown.” The king scowls a second, then relaxes. “He played me but…I got to save Tony, and so many others.” When he looks at her again, his blue eyes are haunted. “Half the universe gone, Pepper. Even if Tony died fixing it, bringing them back, the time between and the time after…it was nearly a billion people across the universe permanently gone.”

It’s impossible to fathom. That Danny saw it, could look at such a devastating future and find the willpower to face it head-on with a plan to make things better…

She’s not sure any of the Avengers would have handled it so maturely, or so delicately. Danny’s a whole other level. She reaches across, palm up. He blinks, then reaches a shaking hand out to cover hers. She squeezes his gently. “You’re amazing, Danny. If no one’s said it: thank you.”

His eyes tear up, and he sniffs. “Sorry,” he pulls his hand back to cover his eyes. “I’m a bit-–emotions are wonky.”

“Danny, you just saved the universe, nearly died, and from what I understand, finally faced down your parents. You’re allowed to cry.”

He sniffs again as the elevator dings. “You sound just like Jazz.”

“At least someone’s giving you sound advice,” an unknown woman’s voice calls out. “You idiotic dork.”

“Self-sacrificing, idiotic dork,” another woman’s voice adds.

“Obsessive heroic asshole,” a third woman.

“I mean, he always did make terrible choices,” concludes a man’s voice.

She tenses, unsure of these strangers, but Danny lets out a wet laugh and lowers his arm, a genuine bright smile appearing on his face. “God, I missed you guys.”

Pepper turns enough to glance at the intruders.

There’s a tall woman, a redhead with a braid down to her waist, wearing a professional pantsuit but walking in a way that reminds her of Natasha. Her eyes are practically teal in color, and are just as watery as Danny’s. “You couldn’t even give us a call?”

“Safer this way.”

She shakes her head and walks over, crouching to give him a careful hug. “You’re so-”

“Heroic?”

“-a pain in the ass. But brave.” She pulls back. “And still my dorky little brother.”

It clicks then, for Pepper. Jazz Fenton, the older sister, the one that was out in California and Danny visited while he was living in Malibu with Tony. In the early days they communicated almost incessantly. It decreased as time went on, but Pepper was always interested in meeting the woman who helped hold Danny together psychologically.

Which means the other three must be his friends.

The guy can only be Tucker Foley. He’s wearing a blue hoodie and jeans, with a red, green, and yellow rasta hat from which locs are peaking out. Somehow it all fits together while complimenting his dark complexion. He’s built a bit like a cyclist, or maybe a rock climber, and has the aura of a silicon valley techie. Still, behind his hipster glasses she spots that his right eye has been outlined by an eye of Horus tattoo. There’s also a ring with an Egyptian cartouche on his left hand that appears to be made of gold.

He’s got at least three different phones hooked on his belt, but like Jazz his eyes are wet and his smile is enormous. He immediately goes over and sits with his back to the front of the couch, reaching up to tangle his hand with Danny’s good one. “I can’t believe you didn’t call, man!”

“Didn’t want to put you at risk.”

“And that’s the bullsh*t talking,” the black woman shoots back. Her dark hair is in a crew cut, which matches with her physique, indicating she’s likely a marine or other military officer. She’s wearing fatigues of red and black, obviously non-regulation and, by Pepper’s eye, custom made. She seems to have a perpetual scowl, but her eyes, while calculating, are warm. “You know I can handle the tough sh*t.”

“Not that sort of fight, Red.” He looks her over. “Needed you to be ready in case things went bad. Wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch out for the ghosts.”

Her scowl softens slightly. “Sweet talking asshole. I’m still kicking your butt when you’re not looking like sh*t.”

“You and me both,” the final woman agrees, arms crossed with her own scowl.

Danny tries to shrink back into the couch. “C’mon, Sam,” he whines, “I didn’t mess up that badly.”

“Oh yes you did, Fenton.”

Sam. Danny’s ex-girlfriend, though from the looks of it not ex-friend. Pepper's definitely seeing someone who never grew out of the goth phase, and instead embraced the lifestyle. Her boots are calf-high and steel-toed. They match her black skirt, similar to one she knows Natasha owns, made to fight in despite its appearance. She’s wearing a white and black striped shirt covered with a dark purple leather jacket.

The jacket matches the stripe of purple on the edge of her neck-length black hair. It also matches her lipstick color and eyes; though Pepper’s not sure if that’s a natural color-–given Amity Park, it’s possible–-or contacts. Though she’s putting up a stern front, Pepper can recognize the concern and care she has.

She’s put up that same front for Tony enough times to know it by heart.

“Oh gosh,” Jazz exclaims, spinning around and reaching out her hand. “We totally interrupted! Jazz Fenton-”

“Danny’s sister,” Pepper finishes, taking the offered handshake. “Tony and I have heard a lot of good things about you.”

“Really, about all of us,” Sam asks with a touch of sarcasm.

“Guys, come on,” Danny groans.

“Enough to know he counts you among his family, regardless of how things ended.” And now she sees Sam’s entire demeanor soften, looking almost five years younger. She glances at Danny in a way that has Pepper wondering if maybe the woman wants to reconcile with him.

“Yeah, well, we think he’s family too,” Tucker says from the floor, tugging lightly on Danny’s arm. “Even if he’s a loser who tries to take on the universe alone.”

“Not alone! I had the Avengers!”

The military woman–-Valerie, Pepper digs up from her memories–-scoffs. “Those losers? They’re way too sloppy to have your back. They couldn’t handle Boxy on a good day.”

“Guys,” Danny exhales.

“She’s got a point,” Pepper enjoys the surprised look on Danny’s face at her comment. “Tony did get his head locked a helmet one time and let Thor try to hammer it in half to get it off.”

“Oh god,” Danny groans, but there’s laughter behind it. “FRIDAY, do you have that video?”

“Of course I do. Would you like me to get some popcorn made for your friends to enjoy while watching it?”

“You’re the best.”

“Is that his new AI?” Tucker’s enthusiasm lights up his whole face. “Hi FRIDAY! I’m TF Foley. The TF stands for-”

“No!” Danny yanks his held hand up to cover Tucker’s mouth. “You can’t date this one either!” He looks at the two women. “You haven’t talked him out of that phrase?!”

“Wasn’t our job, loser,” Sam says, walking over to sit on one edge of the couch by Danny’s feet. She reaches out and rests her palm on his ankle.

“Really? Cause that’s not how I remember it!”

“Yeah, but we’ve determined your brain ain’t the best,” Valerie says, sitting on the other couch arm and poking at his head. “So you’re remembering it wrong.”

“I am not!” Tucker tries to say something behind the hand, then makes a face. Danny looks down. “You think licking my hand bothers m–-ow!” he pulls his hand away. “You bit me!”

Without missing a beat, Tucker continues with, “Too Fine Foley!”

All three people on the couch groan, while Pepper lets herself laugh discreetly. She rises from her chair and quietly backs away. She doesn’t know who called them, but she’s glad they did. The Avengers are family, but these people are just as important to Danny.

It takes her a minute to realize she’s not alone. Glancing over, she sees Jazz following her. At her raised eyebrow, the redhead smiles. “Someone has to get the popcorn. None of them will be focused enough.”

“Ahh, yes. The curse of the competent redhead.”

Jazz lets out a light laugh, then slows down, until she stops a few feet from the kitchen, the automated popcorn maker loud despite the banter just down the hall.

Sensing there’s more, she stops as well and faces the professional-looking woman. One that, at this moment, looks far more vulnerable than she did moments ago.

“Thank you,” she says, reaching for Pepper’s hand. Pepper reaches back and just clutches her fingers. “For everything. When what happened to Dani–-his-–our sister…it really broke him. I was honestly afraid-”

“So was Tony. We all were, in the beginning.”

“But you helped. All of you. Got him back on track educationally, gave him a future.” Her smile is as watery as it was when she saw Danny just moments ago. “He’d given up. You gave him hope. A safe home.”

“You don’t have to thank us for that.”

“I do. Because no one else–-the only other person would have abused him even worse, preyed on his vulnerability. He still did, helping Jack and Maddie.” She practically spits her parents’ names. She takes a breath while closing her eyes, and when she lets it out meets Pepper’s gaze. “I know he’s probably done it a million times, but…from all of us, everything you did, we can’t ever repay you.”

She smiles and squeezes Jazz’s hand gently. “There’s nothing to repay. And you know you’re always welcome here.”

“Yeah, Tony made that clear.” She pulls her hand back. “Insisted on it, really. I think he’s trying to hire me and Tuck.”

“From what Danny’s told us, that’s not necessarily the worst thing he could do.”

She snorts. “Wait till you see when Danny and Tuck decide to team up on a project. They’ve broken the laws of physics once or twice.”

“Around here, we call that Thursday.” Jazz laughs again. “Consider it. Danny would be thrilled.”

“We might. It’ll depend on Sam. She’s our shrewd negotiator.”

Pepper grins at that. “Think she’ll outmaneuver Tony?”

“It’ll be a show, that’s for sure.” She starts heading for the kitchen again. “Thanks again, Miss Potts.”

“Pepper, please. And I hope to see you more often.”

She glances back to the main room with soft eyes. “Count on it.”

Pepper watches her go, then takes a left and heads for the bedrooms. She meant it when she said there’s nothing to repay. After all, from the way Tony describes it, Danny has shaped a better future for all of them. One where Tony lives, the Avengers thrive, and now their favorite kid will be around to haunt them for a while.

Really, she’s looking forward to this best timeline. If the glimpse she saw in that great room moments ago is any indication, it’ll be full of love and laughter, with some wounds but hopefully little loss.

“Pep-Pep,” Tony says, emerging from the bedroom and kissing her on the cheek, “gotta go, that Foley kid’s convincing FRIDAY that marriage is possible between a disembodied AI and a human.”

Pepper pulls him back as he tries to move on. “Maybe let them have some time, Tony.” He glances at her, glances down the hall, frowns, but stays put. “You did good, calling them.”

“Might lose my AI over it.”

She sighs. “FRIDAY, you’re too young to date or get married. Please let Tucker know he’ll have to find a different AI to woo.”

There’s a long pause, Tony raises his eyebrow as they wait.

“His heartbreak lasted approximately twenty-three seconds, at which time he decided to pursue Vision and charged down the hall. Should I alert Wanda that she has competition?”

Tony snorts and Pepper laughs, shaking her head. No, absolutely nothing to repay in this bright new future Danny has built. Getting to enjoy it together as a family is more than enough.

Chapter 18: Post Credits: Scarlet Witch

Chapter Text

For all that Phantom-–Danny--has helped her in growing and accepting her power, never once has he brought her back to the Infinite Realms to visit. As far as she knows, only Bucky and maybe Strange have had that honor, but otherwise he’s kept everyone away.

It might be concern for their well-being. Technology and this place don’t get along well. It could be that something in Danny wants to keep them out; a sense that they don’t truly belong and bringing them wouldn’t be right. It might also be that he doesn’t think it’s worth them visiting. Sure, he has allies here, but they’ve never been to Earth and, from the stories, live far from each other.

And, looking around, it could simply be that human minds really aren’t meant to comprehend the sense of chaos and non-existence in cohabitation. There are random doors, great asteroids with buildings or lands, places that could be from thousands of years ago, or distant alien worlds. All floating about so far apart that it’s only because of her power she can take it all in.

She remembers first looking upon Danny, the stranger that showed up at the Compound. His mind was unreadable, but not because it was blocked. It was…static and pain and grief all interwoven into an intricate thick nebula that literally gave her a migraine just glancing at. Now she knows how to navigate it a little better, to slip through the natural mentality of a ghost to touch the mind within.

And what a mind.

Danny would be worthy of Mjolnir, could wield Steve’s shield, could unite the world in peace. He could also tear it all down in grief and rage and revel in the destruction. Somehow the dichotomy exists within him and resolves into the High King he is. There’s more, nuances and secrets and aspects even she’s not privy to, but that he’s got his inner sense so balanced and controlled…

Well, it certainly inspired her. He helped her gain more control of her powers. He taught her how ghosts reproduce so she and Vision, using her magic and the Mind Stone, could bring two beautiful twins into the world. He showed her glimpses of possibilities and how her own powers could tap into that. It all culminated one day while humming, content with her life.

An acceptance of who she is. An acceptance of her power. An acceptance of her history. A realization of her future.

She opened her eyes and knew she was no longer just Wanda Maximoff. Something within her awoke: the Scarlet Witch.

Vision only noticed she was more self-assured and confident about her lot in life. Tommy noticed nothing, but empathetic Billy leaned against her and whispered something to himself before running off. When she next saw Danny she didn’t even need to say anything. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a flash of neon green, and then a nod and a smile.

No words needed; a High King recognizing an equal that’s come into her power.

And with her new power she understood him better, how much it all must have weighed down upon him when he bore the crown and turned to the future. How much it must have hurt, realizing he could change everything immediately for the better only to realize it would all end in ashes. All those little sacrifices made to ensure the best future.

She’s seen herself through a myriad of timelines. This is perhaps the only one where she gains her mantle without loss and pain and betrayal. He took on all that burden to try and give them all their happy futures.

So she found a spell to cross over to speak with the one person who could help her.

This is the only timeline where the Scarlet Witch emerged in peace.

When she looked for Danny across the timelines, often he was missing. The terrible timelines where he rose as a figure worse than Thanos were torn out, great gaping wounds outside of existence. In others he was simply gone, or had died young, or never even gained powers. It seemed Phantom was in only a handful of timelines.

And all of them were full of pain and loss and betrayal.

Phantom alone on his throne. Phantom the hunted ghost. Phantom the distrusted hero. Phantom the tortured. Phantom the unsmiling.

She can’t help herself across realities. The Scarlet Witch is a mantle, not a birthright, and one that doesn’t always fall to her. Its powers are too chaotic to be controlled, and the potential disaster should two intersect is beyond even her capabilities to see.

Phantom, though, is a figure that a master of time has carefully curated. She and the rest exist in the best timeline, but the others are still there, still flowing to their inevitable conclusion of early termination. But when the termination is, from her brief glimpse, could be a lifetime for those Danny’s.

She has a feeling her target will be sympathetic to her goals.

A tower surrounded by spectral cogs rises before her. Rather than fly the rest of the way she simply teleports and appears before the already open grand doors. Taking the invitation, she walks in. There’s the discordant sound of ticks and tocks from thousands of clocks, even if she can only see a handful. There appears to be only one hallway and no doors.

Of course he’s expecting her.

She follows the obvious trail until she comes to a room filled with mirrors. No, that’s not right. As she examines the edges they look like mirrors, but they’re portals. Portals to a hundred timelines. All focused on one person.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve ever been able to say this to: you’re late.”

She approaches the figure. Ghost isn’t the right term, even if that’s his preferred moniker. His power is like hers, eternal, endless. Unlike her, though, he’s immortal. It won’t pass on unless he chooses to surrender it. Her mantle will eventually pass on after her inevitable death. She’s still not sure if she wants it to go to her children or not.

“Perks of chaos magic,” she replies. “Time is more of a suggestion, not a master.” He’s in his adult form, broad-shouldered with a dramatic purple cape and a jagged scar over one red eye. His skin is blue, and he carries a staff with a gem. She has a feeling it’s more than just ornamentation or a focus. “Are you going to talk me out of it?”

Clockwork floats closer to her. “I considered it. I could fight you, you know. It would be the first battle I’ve ever had without knowing the outcome ahead of time.”

“Not feeling up to it?”

His form shifts to that of a stooped old man, the staff now held like a cane and a beard that seems to trail down to his ghostly tail. “Oh, these old ecto-bones aren’t what they used to be.”

She snorts. “He always says you’re not pulling your weight.”

“At my age I shouldn’t have to.” He’s back to his adult form, grinning. “Don’t tell him, but you’re definitely more interesting.”

“That’s only because I could punch you and you’d never see it coming.”

“True.” He nods. “Though he’s getting better at ducking my sight.”

She doesn’t have to peer through time to know the end result. “When he’s no longer High King, he’ll be your replacement.”

“Red Skull got his final reprieve, why shouldn’t I get to retire?” He’s an infant now, the staff obnoxiously large compared to his not-at-all adorable baby form. “Not like I haven’t earned it.”

“Be careful what you wish for. After all, retirement is what led you here.” She eyes him as he shifts back to an adult. “He Who Remains.”

He harrumphs and crosses his arms. “Hate that name.”

“At least Danny did better at creating a Sacred Timeline than you.”

That earns her a genuine smile. “He did, didn’t he.” He glances up, towards the infinitely receding ceiling, where hundreds of other portals are displaying other images, ones she can’t see. “One anchor, a million potentials. No excessive extinctions. No forced mind wipes and labor.” He leans his shoulder towards her. “Couldn’t have done it alive, you know. Well, I didn’t.”

She turns her attention back to the portals in front her. “We can’t give him anything more here. But in so many timelines…”

The ghost beside her sobers, once more hunched with a beard. “I know.” He reaches one wrinkled hand forward. “I adopt him in a few. They’re some of his happiest timelines.”

“But not on Earth.” Her hands glow red and she weaves connecting threads through the Avengers, their enemies, their allies, back to the beginning of time if necessary. “Nothing excessive. A nudge, a familial connection. Something to weave his life with ours.”

“Not all of those will result positively,” Clockwork, as an old man, warns.

“No, but enough. Enough that, hopefully, I can repay some of the kindness he’s shown us by building the best timeline.” The threads of magic she’s woven have curved and spun and formed into a complex mandala above the portals. She holds it stable, trying to imbue as much goodwill and supportive energy as she can, before letting the pattern fall upon the multiverse of Danny Phantoms and Avengers.

Each sliver of the mandala will carry the power of the whole, though with the touch of chaos that is her magic, no two will ever be alike. This best future can never be rebuilt, her home is, as Clockwork stated, the anchor. The others, though, perhaps now will result in less traumatic timelines, at least for some of the Danny’s.

As her power fades from view, each portal turns to static. She raises an eyebrow and Clockwork, the mischievous infant, grins. “When time gets rewritten, sometimes things go offline.”

More likely, he doesn’t want her to see how successful–-or unsuccessful–-she was. “I suppose my part in this matter is over.”

“We’ll never meet again,” Clockwork agrees. “But I thank you for this gift. Danny might never know, but you and I will. That’s more than enough repayment.”

“I doubt I could ever repay him fully.” She takes a final look at the static in the portals then begins floating, weaving the spell to pull her back to the living world. “Thank you for not fighting me, Clockwork.”

“Oh, the king wouldn’t have liked it.” He becomes an adult as she’s fading away. The last thing she hears is, “Besides, there’ll be many more interesting stories this way.”