A/N: Heavens, but this took me a while. I had most of it written, but I kept being dissatisfied with the ending…to be honest, I'm still a bit dissatisfied, but I've accepted that if I write anything else in this universe it's not likely to be anytime soon and it's likely to be oneshots. Plus, I wanted to get this finished before Civil War drops. So, as I prepare to embark on a long WIP for another fandom and get together some oneshots for Gundam 00 Week on Tumblr (May 1-7, happening on a tumblr named g00week, being run by flag-fighter), I figured I'd tie up the loose ends of this WIP.

Warnings for Age of Ultron spoilers and discussion of brainwashing, though keep in mind this is all still pre-CA:TWS.

Chapter 3

Tony is gratified when his hunch turns out to be right—Allelujah is seated on the edge of a chair in the TV room. He's much less gratified to find the man halfway to the fetal position, his head cradled in his hands as he breathes in and out in a studied pattern that Tony thinks he remembers from back when Pepper was really into yoga. Seiei, awake and sitting up ramrod-straight on the couch, looks on in concern.

Tony tries to think of a delicate way to apologize, he really does, but he can't come up with anything, and before he knows it, his mouth is open and the words, "F***, I'm sorry," have come out.

Allelujah and Seiei both startle and turn toward him.

Allelujah's skin is grey-tinged with pallor, and his eyes are still not-quite-focused, but he manages a gentle smile. "You didn't realize."

"You should've," Seiei says bluntly. "And you shouldn't have come in here unannounced. If Allelujah hadn't been in control…"

"Well, I was," Allelujah says briskly. "It's fine."

Pepper says things like that too. But they aren't always true. She may forgive him, but that's not the same as her being 'fine.' It's just that she doesn't mind that he's hurt her.

A lot of people have hurt Haptism. Tony's not going to be the next.

"No, it's really not," Tony says. "I should have known not to push you. I screwed up."

Seiei looks ready to say something else, but Allelujah holds up a hand.

"I appreciate your apology," he says. "You don't seem the type to offer them often."

Tony shakes his head, grinning. "Not really."

Allelujah shoots Seiei a look as if to say, "See?", then smiles at Tony. "Like I said, thanks. I hope things didn't get too awkward after I left…"

"The subject changed," Tony says. "Something about Tieira trying to pilot something while he wasn't up to it…"

Seiei's eyes widen, and Allelujah groans. "I can't believe we didn't even think about that," he says, slumping further forward.

"There was a lot going on," Seiei says, almost gently.

"He told Stratos he was fine," Tony says quickly. "Stratos still seemed pretty concerned…but Steve kinda derailed the conversation and then suddenly it turned into a bunch of jokes about peoples' heights."

Allelujah manages a small smile, while Seiei frowns.

"Yes, he was making fun of you, but also Saji, so you don't have to get too mad," Tony says quickly.

Allelujah's color is a bit better now. "I'm sorry I missed that."

"Just be glad you weren't short enough to end up a target," Tony joked. "It was a free-for-all in there. I had to leave before they realized how puny I am next to Spangles."

"Spangles?" Seiei ventures, looking less annoyed.

"Uh, the captain…er, Steve," Tony says. "It's a nickname."

"…it has to do with the U.S. national anthem or something, right?" Allelujah said.

Tony nods. "Yeah, it's called 'The Star-Spangled Banner,'" he says. "And since Steve's 'Captain America'…"

"Is it an insult?" Allelujah asks, rather bluntly for him.

"…No," Tony says, a bit thrown.

"Marie says that national anthem sounds like a really awful drinking song," Allelujah says, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought maybe—"

"It kinda is a drinking song, but one with really nice lyrics," Tony says, a bit offended on behalf of his country—even if he disagrees with it politically most of the time nowadays. "The guy wrote 'em during a battle to a song he'd heard—yeah, in a bar—the previous night."

Allelujah nods. "That explains it. I'll have to tell Marie."

"Why are you Iron Man?" Seiei asks suddenly.

"Wow, with the personal questions," Tony says automatically. I think I need alcohol for that story.

"No-not your reasons, I mean, why that name?" Seiei corrects quickly.

"Oh," Tony says, feeling silly as he remembers that only Saji actually saw the suit. "Uh, I have a suit. Sorta like…a robot, but I'm inside of it. It flies and shoots energy beams…it's pretty cool, actually."

Seiei and Haptism look, of all things, amused at his explanation.

"What?" he asks, a bit irritably.

"You have, uh, fighter jets, now, right?" Allelujah asks. "Like, mass-produced military ones?"

It's a non-sequitor, but Tony rolls with it. "Yeah."

"In our time, or dimension, or whatever?" Allelujah says. "We have mobile suits."

"Giant robots," Seiei clarifies, helpfully. "Lke Transformers, but piloted. And most of them can't turn into other things."

Allelujah smirks. Tony knows that smirk. It is that same smirk that Rhodey's jet-pilot friend gets on her face whenever anyone brings up the model of her plane.

"You're a pilot!" Tony accuses. "You're a pilot and you have a Transformer-mobile-suit!"

Allelujah's smirk softens but does not vanish. "I am and I do," he says mildly. "Setsuna's has a bigger beam cannon, though."

"So…you're all pilots?" Tony asks.

"Yeah," Setsuna says, nodding. "It's why the Chitauri captured us instead of killing us. They wanted us to pilot their crafts for them."

"We weren't interested," Allelujah said flatly, before Tony can ask. "I think they were planning to come back and, ah, ask again after they took your version of Earth…but you never gave them the chance."

"JARVIS said they attacked here before, and you threw a nuclear bomb at them," Seiei says.

Tony takes a deep breath, and tries not to have a flashback. It almost doesn't work, but then Seiei continues in a voice that's just a bit louder than necessary and jars Tony out of his thoughts.

The knowing look on Allelujah's face says that Seiei did it on purpose.

"I think it ticked them off, enough to make you their only target," Seiei says. "So when they attacked our Earth, they only kept up their assault until they realized you weren't coming."

"Then they grabbed us so it wouldn't be a complete waste of time, and left for the right version of Earth?" Allelujah guesses.

"That seems likely," Seiei says.

"Why just take you, though?" Tony asks. "I mean, there have to be other pilots…"

"Not on our level," Seiei says, in the matter-of-fact tone of Thor explaining that he could not be killed by most weapons he's seen on Earth.

"Any one of us can take on and defeat roughly fifty to seventy mobile suits, without rest and within a twenty-four hour period, before our performance starts suffering due to exhaustion," Allelujah explains. "Except maybe Saji. He's had less training. But he makes up for it in determination."

"And a normal pilot's limit…" Tony prompts.

"How would we know about that?" Allelujah asks, still looking a bit smug.

Seiei shrugs. "A lot lower."

"So, what, you're robot-piloting superheroes?" Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

Seiei snorts dismissively and says, "Not even close," while the haunted look returns to Allelujah's eyes.

Wincing at his own poor choice of words, Tony tries to think of a way to change the subject, but Seiei does it for him.

"Being a superhero isn't the only way to bring about peace," Seiei says.

"Bring about peace?" Tony echoes. He recalled that these people were members of some sort of peacekeeping force, so it made sense for them to think that way, but that had never been his goal…he'd just been looking to fix his own screw-ups and maybe get a little revenge in the bargain.

Seiei nods. "Jarvis told me. You used to sell weapons, but you experienced for yourself what they did, and so you decided to remove your weapons from the battlefield with your own hands."

"Yeah, I guess that's one way to put it," Tony says.

"Then, you've also become Gundam," Seiei says, smiling slightly.

Tony glances at Allelujah. "Gundam?"

"Technically, Gundam is just the name for the kind of mobile suit used by our group," Allelujah says. "But for Seiei, it's come to mean someone or something that is an embodiment of the eradication of war."

Eradication of war? Tony repeats mentally. Exactly what kind of stuff did these guys do while trying to "keep the peace"?

Allelujah must've read his expression, because he says, "You'd probably consider our methods extreme. You might object to them. And—it's not like I don't regret things. Not just—that—" The wince tells Tony he's referring to the incident that Tony had brought up at dinner, "but also other actions we took. But only because what we did was able to be manipulated by someone else with evil intentions. Not because I ever stopped believing in what we were trying to do."

"In the end, we did achieve peace, at least until the Chitauri arrived," Setsuna said quietly. "It would have been nice if we could've done it with less bloodshed, but—there's always bloodshed. Even if I really want to believe in what Marina says."

"What we did, we did so there can be a world where more people can grow up to be Marina, and less can grow up to be you or me," Allelujah says, standing. "We couldn't afford that kind of naivety…but maybe the people who come after us will be able to."

This has gotten very depressing all of a sudden. Or, maybe not all of a sudden. It was kind of depressing all the way through, what with it being a conversation centered around Tony apologizing for bringing up Allelujah's alternate personality's murder record.

So, it's a relief when Allelujah says, "Let's go back out to the kitchen. Setsuna should eat."

Setsuna frowns at him, but gets up to follow anyway.

Before Tony can follow, JARVIS speaks from the ceiling. "Sir, would you mind staying here for a moment?"

"Of course," Tony says, waiting until the younger men leave to continue speaking. "Is there a reason why you want to talk in private?" He thinks for a second. "I can't think of any embarrassing video that could've leaked lately, but maybe I'm forgetting something…"

"That is not what this is about," JARVIS says, and Tony is the best ever at programming, because his AI is clearly amused. "I merely wished to inform you that, after some consideration, I have reconsidered the offer you made a few weeks ago."

Tony has to think for a few seconds. "You mean, the suit for you? You want one now?"

"Yes, sir," JARVIS says.

It's cool that JARVIS changed his mind, but the timing is…weird. "The Erde guy didn't do anything, right?"

JARVIS is silent.

Rage builds almost instantly. "If he hacked you I swear to—"

"I was not hacked, sir, and I am slightly insulted on both your behalf and my own that you even believe that possible."

"Then what?" Tony asks, mildly exasperated. "Don't tell me he just said something!"

"That is, in fact, what happened," JARVIS says.

"What?" Tony asks. "What did he say?"

"I wish to respect his privacy," JARVIS says crisply.

"What about your creator?" Tony wheedles.

"I seldom wish to respect you," JARVIS says flatly.

"Oh, come on!" Tony whines. "You are my most wonderful, sarcastic creation, and—"

He recalls the earlier conversation, the way Erde talked about the supercomputer like it was his baby, how he'd said "I couldn't pilot like that," and "there was a bit of an adjustment period."

"Is Erde human?" he asks. "Not sentient, I know he's sentient, but is he human?"

JARVIS sighs. "No, sir, not precisely."

"Is he an AI?" Tony asks, somewhat excited, because, if he is, holy crap, Erde's more empathetic than some of the humans in the Tower right now. JARVIS is amazing, but he needs the butler-politeness framework to fall back on sometimes, even if he's mostly outgrown it; Erde doesn't seem to have those limits any more than a slightly eccentric human might.

"No," JARVIS says. "I cross-referenced the term he used with all available databases and determined that it does not exist in this dimension and time. From what I gathered, however, it refers to what is basically a highly genetically engineered human."

Well, that's disappointing. Oh, well. He's still got JARVIS, who's pretty awesome himself. Tony gives him a few more years before he's independent enough that Tony can start devising new AI tests based on him. It's gonna be great.

"He does, however, have the ability to directly interface with certain types of computers," JARVIS says. "I would thank you not to share this information with Fury—Erde is deeply wary of him."

"Like I tell Fury anything I don't have to," Tony says. "So he can talk to computers with his mind? Cool." He thinks for a second. "So, how long did he spend being a computer?"

"Sir, I don't know what—"

"JARVIS, I promise not to say anything to him, or to Fury, I just want confirmation," Tony says.

"Roughly two years," JARVIS says. "As he put it, an enemy was foolish enough to shoot him while they were inside of the building which housed Veda-the supercomputer he mentioned at dinner."

"So he uploaded himself," Tony says. "And this is the future, so they got him a new body eventually, I guess. That explains the hair, too—though not the glasses."

"Actually, sir, I am given to understand that this is his original appearance," JARVIS says, sounding a bit amused.

"And he didn't take the opportunity for a makeover?" Tony asks, incredulous. "Clearly, not as smart as I'd thought."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Seiei and Haptism come back to the table after nearly everyone else has wandered off, leaving Clint to do the dishes. He's not really that upset, though—in the Tower, "doing the dishes" is really more like rinsing a couple of really messy plates and then putting the rest in a high-powered dishwasher that definitely costs more than most places Clint has lived in the past.

Nat's still at the table, though, and she's watching as the two of them get the food left behind for them and start to eat. Seiei tears through his portion at a frankly alarming speed, and Clint's hindbrain starts doing double-handsprings because apparently something about that is significant—but Clint's conscious mind is too busy with Nat's body language. She's pulling in on herself, slightly, shoulders hunching and head ducking down. Clint can only see part of her profile but he'd bet her knees are inching up toward her chest, too. Nat's acting like a kid—and not the way she acts for targets, the elaborate show with huge eyes and limbs splayed everywhere so that she can spring up and attack at a moment's notice—but like a young Natasha, coiled up into a tiny ball to make a smaller target. She doesn't do this on purpose. She does it, unconsciously, when she's thinking about being a young Natasha.

Allelujah gets up to get another glass of soda, and Nat's gaze follows him. Clint adds up her childhood with his background and comes out with Oh screw me.

Oh screw me is often the answer to Clint's mental math.

With a murmur of "Thank you," Seiei leaves the room, and then, finally, Nat speaks up.

"The place I was raised in was like your Institute," she says, her tone matter-of-fact.

Allelujah can't manage such nonchalance. He drops his fork and stares. "Wha—then you…" he trails off.

"It was called the Red Room," Nat says. "The operatives were called Black Widows. We were raised to be assassins from…from very young childhood. I'm not sure how young. I don't remember."

Allelujah's expression is gentle. "Did they do something to your memories?"

Nat nods. "They were altered," she says, voice almost shy. "They made me think I'd graduated from a ballet school."

"So scum like that exists here, too," Allelujah says, voice dangerously flat. He takes a deep breath, then asks, "But, why were your teammates so surprised by me, if you—"

"Clint's the only one who knows," Nat says.

"Why?" Allelujah asks, cautiously curious.

Nat shrinks in on herself further—it's disturbing to see her like this, wearing so few of her masks. "They have preconceptions about me that I'd like to see them hold on to. It's information that isn't relevant to the Avengers Initiative or to our personal relationships; there's no reason for me to share it with them."

Allelujah makes a small noise of disapproval.

"You disagree?" Nat asks, an edge on her tone.

"You know, that used to be our official policy, at Celestial Being," Allelujah says. "The past was irrelevant to our mission, and a distraction. So we had an official ban on discussing past personal lives with other Celestial Being members. It worked for a while, give or take a few awkward situations. And then we had some issues with these crackpot siblings saying they were affiliated with us, hacking our systems, and committing war crimes using our name."

"How is this relevant?" Nat asks.

"They hacked our personnel files, and got away cleanly from a battle they would have lost by distracting our side with what they'd found," Allelujah said. "It turns out that one person we had on scene had basically sworn revenge on a certain group for killing his family. Another of the people on scene was a former member of that group. The two of them eventually sorted things out without killing one another, but it took a while, and the siblings were gone by the time they'd settled their differences."

"So, you're saying that I should tell everyone in case someone has a death grudge against the Red Room?" Nat asks, a hint of humor to her tone. "Because, you know, that's incredibly likely."

"More that…ignorance is the enemy," Allelujah replies. "If those two had worked things out sooner, a lot of other things might have turned out differently. We'll never know. Keeping them in the dark on purpose…isn't that something you're supposed to do to your enemies, not your allies?"

Nat relaxes slightly, and lets out a soft sigh. "Maybe. But…right now, they think of me as frightening and competent. I like that. But I know it's because they know nothing about what had to be done to make me this way."

By this time, Clint's finished the last of Seiei's dishes and is just leaning against the counter, watching as she wraps her arms around her midsection in a movement that's all too familiar to him. She can deny it all she wants, but I'm sure they did something to her, to make her think that they warped her when they took her ability to have kids. They already screwed with her memories; what's one more piece of interference? He shuddered reflexively at the thought.

"I just don't want them to think of me as pitiful, or as a…" Clint's hearing aids, advanced as they are, aren't up to catching that last word—but he's heard Natasha talk about this before, so he's pretty sure what he missed. Allelujah's reaction is right in line with his guess.

"A monster?" Allelujah practically yelps. "Because you were trained as an assassin?"

"They trained me to kill, and then they sterilized me," Nat says, in the same unsettling, detached tone she used to explain it to Clint.

"What's done to you doesn't make you a monster," Allelujah says, slow and certain, holding her gaze. "It's what you do that determines it."

"Then…what about Dr. Banner's 'Other Guy'?" Nat counters. "Or your Hallelujah, for that matter. They're both monsters, and they were created to be that way."

"'Monster' seems like a specific term, but it really depends on who's using it, doesn't it?" Allelujah says. "People define it a lot of ways, but if there's one meaning that everyone agrees on, I don't know about it. Is the monster Hallelujah, for pushing me to kill all the other super-soldiers, or me, for going into situations that gave him a chance to? Is the monster Bruce's Other Guy, or whoever's threatening a middle-aged scientist enough to bring him out? Is the monster you, for making it out of the Red Room, or the Red Room for trying to make you a certain way?"

"Perhaps we're all monsters," Nat says softly.

"Or maybe we're all human, and we all mess up," Allelujah responds. "And when we use the word 'monster,' it's just more rhetoric."

He paused, seeming to search for words, then added, "If they enhanced you, you might be a little bit more than human now. Even if they didn't, I know from talking to someone unenhanced who was trained as a kid that you still don't really feel like a regular human sometimes. Either way it's none of my business. But…not being a regular human doesn't make you a monster. The only thing that makes you…anything, really, is your choices."

"And if I made a lot of bad choices?" Nat asks, challenge in her tone.

"Then you either decide you don't regret them or decide that you do, and go look for forgiveness," Allelujah says. "At least, that's my philosophy."

"Which one are you doing?" Clint asks, intrigued.

"A little of both," Allelujah says.

"And how's that working out?" Clint asks.

Allelujah's grin is crooked. "It's a work in progress."

Clint grins back. Allelujah's sheepish honesty is admirable.

"So, uh, I have no idea how to initiate this conversation, but this is probably one of few chances I will have to discuss growing up in the Institute with someone who gets it, other than Marie," Allelujah says. "And if Clint's the only one you've told about this Red Room…"

Unexpectedly, Nat grins, even if it's dark at the edges. "Let's break out the imaginary photo albums."

"Because the Lord knows there were photos, but not ones we'll ever get to see," Allelujah responds, with a dark, sharp edge to his tone that answers Nat's smile.

Nat takes a few moments to shoo Clint out of the room in curt ASL. Clint is almost inclined to pretend he missed it, since this could be interesting and also yield useful intel, until he hears Allelujah lead off.

"Was yours more training or medical procedures?" he asks, genuinely curious. "The SSI did a lot of medical testing and physical enhancement when we were younger, so I have more experience with that than with training."

Clint suddenly becomes aware of the fact that Nat and Allelujah's lives give them nightmares and would likely do the same for him, and makes good his escape before he hears Nat's answer.

As he steps into the elevator to return to his floor, he asks Jarvis, "Are you listening in, since the guy from the other dimension's involved?"

"Sir has asked me to exercise my judgement in allowing these people some degree of privacy," JARVIS replies. "While I am monitoring biometrics and conducting my normal scan for a set list of words Sir associates with security threats, I am not currently eavesdropping on or recording the conversation between Agent Romanov and our guest."

"That's probably good for your sanity," Clint says.

"Sir has intimated that, being his creation, it is unlikely that I have any," JARVIS replies.

Clint is pretty sure that's a joke but the delivery is snarled up and Clint's too tired to unravel it, so he just waves, one-handed, as he leaves the elevator and decides that now would be a great time for some truly abysmal reality TV.

He wakes up the next morning to JARVIS announcing that a "craft capable of spaceflight" has landed on the roof of the Tower. And it's not even 7 a.m. yet. Great.

He's dressed in his uniform in about three minutes—for a spy, that's pretty much a job skill—and grabs his bow and quiver from under the bed, before making for the roof like it'll be the Apocalypse if he doesn't get there ASAP.

Until he's sure that's not a possible outcome, better safe than sorry. It'd better not be the Chitauri again.

When he makes it to the rooftop, Cap's already there, Nat at his side. Tony shows up in the suit soon after; Clint's assuming Bruce is waiting inside, by the door, in case things go south.

The craft that's landed on the roof is battered, scratched and scorched, but still lethally sleek in its design, in a way that definitely reminds Clint more of the Klingons' ships from Star Trek than anything else. The almost cheerful color scheme, of white and powder blue with a few dark red accents nearly belies the sharpness of nearly every surface on the craft and the fact that those two protrusions have to be some kind of gun.

"You want to be the first aliens to actually come in peace?" Tony shouts at the spaceship. "Because so far, this planet's track record with visitors sucks."

"We're not aliens," says a voice, female, cultured, and touched with a Middle Eastern accent, projected through an external speaker. "We're from a dimension parallel to yours. We're attempting to find some people from our dimension who were taken by actual aliens, and one of our people was able to track them to this dimension and then to this city. Since this building was high enough for a craft like ours to land on, we decided to take advantage of it. We'd hoped perhaps it was an office building and our presence wouldn't be so immediately noticed."

"You'd hoped, you mean," another voice cuts in, softly. "I did warn you."

"This isn't the time," a third says.

…another dimension, Clint wonders. Could we really be that lucky?

"We were able to free a few prisoners from the custody of the Chitauri, an alien race that's attacked here before," Cap says.

"Do any of you know an Allelujah?" Tony ventures.

The answer is pretty clear when the response comes in the form of one sob of relief, one soft "Thank God," and one half-choked, "Yes."

"We're coming out," the first voice declares, and the door of the craft hisses open.

The woman who strides out first is tall, dark-haired, and obviously in charge of something, politically, because she walks like she knows that people are counting on her, but also like she knows people will listen to what she says. Her eyes are dark blue, and more like Pepper's than Hill's, which is not what Clint would expect in a politician. She's dressed in a blue-and-purple uniform that is, frankly, ridiculous—unless Clint is hallucinating the puffed sleeves and the odd partial skirt-like garment belted over the jacket—but she's graceful and self-possessed enough that Clint would feel bad about laughing in her face.

Then again, next the next woman to get out, who has apparently decided that her color-code is bubblegum-pink, she looks downright normal. Her hair is cropped mercilessly short, but it's dyed the exact same eye-burning fuchsia as her uniform jacket—which, other than the color, seems to match those worn by Erde and the others. Intact, it's actually pretty impressive, especially next to the black-haired woman's monstrosity. Despite all the pink, though, there's a weight to her blue eyes.

The last woman to emerge is petite and subtly muscular, with incredibly pale skin and braided hair that's such a light shade of platinum blonde that it might as well be considered white. She's wearing some sort of light armor made of reinforced white armor plates mounted on a skintight suit, and her posture just screams miltary.

She's the first to speak. "Where is Allelujah?" It's not a question so much as an order for someone to give her information.

"He's inside, ma'am," Steve says. "It's early in the morning, and we were hardly going to bring him out with us if you turned out to be hostile—"

"Are the others—how many others did you find?" the pink-haired woman asks.

"Four others," Steve says, and Clint sees the tension leak out of her shoulders.

"And you are?" Tony prompts.

The black-haired woman takes the lead. "My name is Marina Ismail, Princess Royal of Azadistan," she begins.

Royalty, Clint thinks, unenthusiastic, with a glance toward an equally, if more subtly, dismayed Nat.

Marina gestures to the pink-haired woman. "This is Feldt Grace, tactical operator of Celestial Being." She turns toward the other woman, whose expression and posture have changed completely. She looks almost civilian, for heaven's sake.

"Marie Parfacy," she says. She hesitates, then adds, "Former ace pilot for the HRL under the name Soma Peries."

She's not quite telling the truth, Clint can tell, but now's not the time for an interrogation. Besides, the clues Allelujah's dropped along the way fit into a picture of a woman who knows more about Allelujah's past than anyone who wasn't involved in it would. Tony's made enough mistakes for all of them in that area, thank you.

Tony does their introductions, matching formality for formality—Clint's not sure best archer on the planet is deserved, but he's sure not arguing—and generally making good use of his background in interacting with the rich and famous for once.

"Will you take us to them?" Marina asks, a sense of urgency in her voice.

Steve apparently sees something in her eyes that he respects, because he doesn't even hesitate before he nods.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Bruce is waiting by the door when the five guests gather on the top floor.

"Jarvis said there was a spacecraft," Erde says, at Bruce's curious look. "I asked him to describe it, and recognized it as the 00 Raiser."

Bruce doesn't bother hiding his surprise. "One of yours?"

Seiei's smile is fond. "Yeah. When we thought we needed to figure out how to get back, we forgot about everyone back in our world. We should've known they'd figure it out first."

"I bet it was Feldt," Allelujah says, with an air of surety.

"If Ms. Sumeragi managed to drag Billy Katagiri into this somehow, it could've been him, too," Stratos points out.

"Or Mr. and Mrs. Vashti," Saji says.

Seiei looks very nervous, suddenly. "What if it was all of them?"

Stratos looks a bit spooked, too. "By the time we're back, they'll have GN Drives down to the size of toasters."

Confused, Bruce asks, "How big are they now?"

"About the size of a small house," Allelujah says.

Bruce just hopes that they didn't all come along. Tony's dangerous enough with just him, and Jane Foster's occasional visits. With Tony added into their mix, those GN Drives—whatever they are—would probably end up small enough to put on watches.

"I don't think you can actually miniaturize a GN Drive to that extent…" Erde starts, when Tony leads the rest of the team and a few unfamiliar women through the roof access door.

Allelujah lights up. "Marie!"

"Allelujah! Thank God!" the woman, a platinum blonde in tight-fitting armor, exclaims in return. She immediately runs to hug him, then draws back in concern when he winces at her embrace.

"What happened?" she asks, worried.

"Those things that captured us weren't so nice," Stratos says, delicately. "Allelujah caught some of the worst of it. A doctor looked at him, though."

Bruce decides this is not the time to remind the room at large that he isn't really a medical doctor.

"Good," the woman says firmly.

"I'm fine, really," Allelujah says.

"You'd say that no matter what," Marie replies fondly.

Bruce is suddenly vaguely sick at the knowledge that she would probably know, since this is likely the girlfriend who named him, and, to have done that, she must know something of his past.

But…they seem happy, now. And isn't that really the best outcome he could hope for, for someone whose life has been like Allelujah's has?

Meanwhile, Stratos waves lazily from the couch at the newcomers. "Took you guys long enough," he says. "What was the holdup, Feldt?"

Feldt, a woman with pink-dyed hair and a matching uniform, gives him a smile that's somewhere between fond and exasperated. "We had to decide whether we wanted you five back," she says.

"That was a joke, right?" Saji asks, a little anxiously.

"Of course it was a joke, she's too nice to leave us in another dimension no matter how many of her problems we cause," Stratos says, grinning.

Feldt sighs.

There's another sigh, but this one is soft and pleased. "I'm glad you're safe," the third of the strangers, a tall, dark-haired woman, says.

"Marina Ismail," Seiei says, staring at her, as he stands.

"Yes, I'm here too," Marina says, seeming slightly amused.

"Why do you always say her full name?" Saji asks.

Tieria and Stratos lean forward in interest. Seiei shrugs.

Marina turns toward Tony and bows shallowly. "Thank you so much for taking care of them," she says. She turns back to Seiei. "Setsuna, how badly are you injured?"

So, Setsuna's his real name, Bruce thinks, even as Tony asks, "Who's Setsuna?"

Marina looks confused. "He is," she says.

"We were using codenames, Princess," Erde says, rubbing his temples.

"Setsuna…is his codename," Marina says, a bit slowly.

"His first name isn't much use as a codename anymore, not when he uses it constantly," Erde replies levelly. "We were going by the last names of our code names."

"You mean the ones you and Haptism have listed as your legal names now?" Feldt asks.

"Saji doesn't even have a codename," Marie points out.

"Saji told them his real name already and…look, I'm not a tactical forecaster, all right!" Erde snaps.

"And that's a good thing," Feldt says, deadpan.

"So, I guess we'll have to let Fury know that you've got a way home," Clint says. "I mean, I'm assuming it wasn't one-way."

"Of course not!" Marie says, sounding a bit offended. "We don't just go around dragging world leaders to another dimension without a way to get them back to their countries." More quietly, she adds, "We don't drag them around to other dimensions at all, by choice, but she's stubborn…"

Marina beams at her.

Bruce now understands why Tony still looks a bit off-balance.

"In all seriousness, though, who is this 'Fury'?" she asks.

"Why do you assume that's a name?" Clint counters, apparently unintimidated by her status. "Last person I mentioned him to offhand thought he was the time system my employer used to log hours."

Marina spreads her hands and shrugs. "I suppose I've gotten used to Setsuna's friends having odd names."

"Fury is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.; it's a government agency that deals with supernatural, extraterrestrial and otherwise bizarre," Natasha says, addressing Marina. "He'll want to meet you."

Marina looks intrigued. "I think I'll want to meet him, as well. Perhaps we could work out an arrangement. My…dimension was woefully underprepared for hostile aliens; I believe that we would be willing enter negotiations in exchange for strategic advice."

"And what could you offer us?" Clint asks, folding his arms.

Tony snickers, a knowing look in his eyes, and Seiei—Setsuna glares at him.

"Not that," he says. "Those will be obsolete in a generation if we have our way."

Tony startles, minutely, then nods in almost grave understanding. Bruce studies the defensiveness in Setsuna's answering scowl and becomes nearly certain that Setsuna is as much out of the weapons business as Tony is.

Tieria glances at the two of them, a look of understanding in his eyes, then turns to Clint. "We're ahead of you, technologically. We might be willing to trade certain items for information or items that our dimension never had reason to develop."

"That would involve comparing our timelines," Tony observes, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. Marina glances toward Setsuna, alarmed.

"He's like a mixture of Ian and Billy Katagiri, but worse," Saji explains quickly, looking amused at the whole exchange. "He's not exactly harmless, but he's not really a threat to us, either."

"He's an overzealous scientist," Marie says, with an odd note of humor to her tone. "What could one overzealous scientist possibly do?"

"He's an overzealous, war-hating scientist who specializes in advanced robotics," Allelujah corrects, smirking a bit.

The people from the other dimension are now all staring at Tony. Setsuna, in particular, is suddenly wide-eyed, while Saji seems mildly alarmed. An odd sort of tension has built in the room, and Bruce isn't the only one who's noticed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony asks.

"Well, if our history teaches us anything, it means you're going to change the world," Marina says, in a brisk, if slightly faint, tone.

"Are you going to explain that?" Tony asks.

"I don't think we should," Saji says slowly.

"No, really, what?" Tony demands. "What are you referencing? Am I being mocked? Come on!"

"Let's set up that meeting with your Director Fury," Marina says, all business.

"Come on!"

"I'll call him," Natasha says, ignoring Tony as well.

"Do you know anyone named Schenberg?" Saji asks Tony, very quietly.

"Saji!" Tieria barks. "Don't interfere with the timeline."

Bruce is as lost as the rest of them, but he's also twice as anxious. Whatever this is, he has a feeling that Tony is not going to let it go until the visitors tell him.

Or, well, until one of them loses enough patience to inflict bodily harm. If they're all lucky, that might work.

Wasn't Schenberg the one who had a plan to talk with aliens? he wonders, as Natasha and Marina launch into conversation. What on Earth would that have to do with Tony, anyway?

End

A/N: Apologies, but there are two people who are easily paralleled with Tony Stark in the Gundam 00 Universe, and this crossover occurs at a point when Tony is staying away from bad coping mechanisms enough for people to catch the Aeolia Schenberg parallels easier than the Ms. Sumeragi ones.

I hope you enjoyed this fic and I apologize for the badly delayed last chapter.