800So.
I'm alive.
Sorry about that six month pause! A lot happened in my personal life. My hyper fixations in another fandom absolutely dominated my attention. Seasonal depression hit like a truck. I celebrated my first wedding anniversary. I got really sad for a while. I got a new job!
This is absolutely NOT forgotten or on hiatus anymore (I had never planned for it to be on one in the first place), I plan to get back to publishing much more often. Maybe once every other week if my schedule allows.
Also, I am messing with the Original X-Men timeline from the movies, as well as the Revised one- combining them into an unholy stitched mess that will fit MY timeline. It's all going to work out (just don't think about the movies too much because it wont make sense unless you're squinting really hard) but if you have questions or if I'm not explaining things properly, let me know.
May 4th, 1980 - SHIELD Headquarters - 35 Years After Hydra's Downfall
HOWARD STARK
Howard leaned back from the decrypted files spread out in front of him, his hand coming to scrub down his face.
It was impossible. Damn near impossible. Insane.
No- it couldn't be true.
He sniffed, the lack of hours slept finally coming around to smack down on his body, and shuffled some of the grainy black and white photos closer. He squinted his eyes as if it would help the impossible situation resolve itself. It didn't.
The longer he stared, the vision of the assassin with the black half-mask and darkly shadowed eyes, the more twisted his insides became. Because if this was true? If- if the intel was right, then God forgive him.
He really had let Steve down.
June 20th, 1980 - Xavier Institute - 35 Years After Hydra's Downfall
HERMIONE GRANGER
Hermione closed the ghostly copy of the book she'd been reading for the past several hours, slowing time around her so that it progressed as the rest of the world currently experienced it. Her body did not tire anymore, so there was no discomfort when she craned her head back up after being hunched over the manuscript for so long, and took an unnecessary breath out. Then, she stood up from her place on the window seat and placed the copy of the book back with its original reality on the shelf, mind humming over the information it had delivered, and what she come to find as an exceptionally fascinating read.
The tome was a second edition in a series of essays written on mutant evolution throughout this world's history. It explained and compared several theories on the creation of mutants, and why mutant birth rates were hypothesized to one day become more prevalent than those without the mutant gene. She yearned to record the almost negligible differences between the history of her current world and her own from her past. To then try and define the outcomes of those divergences within its butterfly effect. There were no mutants of course in her home world... she hadn't met anyone yet with her set of magic, close as the Ancient One and her followers were. So how had the split happened?
A tiny, minute decision made by someone lost in history? Or was it something more? Something undiscovered yet, and waiting to be defined?
She huffed another unnecessary breath of annoyance and turned herself back around. It was a terrible burden knowing that no notes she wrote would truly keep in this reality. Her hand itched for a piece of parchment or a typewriter.
As she stepped away from the bookshelf, her eyes traveled the enormous library. Its gleaming finished wood, the twisted iron stairway that went to the second and third levels of the room. The warm colors of its used handrails and thinning rugs. A sour smile thinned her lips.
Everything in the library of the Institute reminded her so greatly of Hogwarts sometimes that she could barely stand to remain in the room despite her unease amongst other places on the grounds. Her eyes lowered and turned away from a stained glass piece that showered the floor with rays of color in a reading nook. Today, it seemed, was one of those days.
Before she could turn to disappear through the library shelves and wander (an action she did not miss as being similar to her own Hogwarts years with the house ghosts), a familiar voice echoed down from the second floor of the library at the handrail. "I thought I might find you here," Charles Xavier hummed, a soft smile settled over his lips. His astral projection wore a dark grey tweed three-piece suit, an expensive-looking tie, and leather shoes. Every inch of the professor the world had named him.
Hermione's frustration melted away. "I was just about to walk about the grounds, care to join me?"
His replying upward twitch of the lips was answer enough. When they found themselves at the perimeter of the estate, walking side by side under the canopy of summer shade, Hermione began. "How was the conference in California?"
"As well as could be expected," he said while looking at the fluttering of the summer leaves.
Hermione knew his facial expressions after the few years they had known each other and could recognize his frustration. It had not gone well. "Funding for the Institute?"
"Remains as it was. Unsupported and unrecognized."
"Accredited still?"
The lines of his lips softened. He looked down at her from his side. "The Institue is and will always be, as we spoke out for, a place of learning and care for mutants."
She smiled back. "Good." If nothing else, a safe haven recognized by the government and education department.
He nodded and looked back to the scenery. "The Institute stands another year, to the detest of many. And despite the US dismissal of funds, we did receive a very large donation for the upcoming year."
"Oh?" She tipped her head to the side.
His hands clasped behind his back. "Mr. Stark was quite vocal on the education of all, including those that many think beneath them. He started a donation frenzy of a sort," he grinned from the corners of his mouth. Hermione was amused, if not a little confused. He had never taken much interest in mutant affairs before and wondered at his involvement now. "He has some things he's wished for me to pass on as well, after the conference was through. We met for lunch and Mrs. Carter-Sousa joined us."
Hermione's eyebrows rose, but a smile lifted her face. She hadn't known the three of them had met up. "You have news then?"
She felt a bit bad at the distinguished professor playing owl for her, but she knew that apologizing for it would only incur a slight admonishment and pursed lips as it had so often within the past years.
He made to wet his lips, despite the unnecessary need for it in this dimension, and started with an air of indulgence. "Firstly, Mr. Stark wishes to know your thoughts on his last mention of the Mutant Bill congress has been planning. If there was anything he should add to it before submitting this coming Monday."
Hermione immediately fought back the urge to roll her eyes. "Shouldn't he be asking you this kind of question? I haven't the foggiest on American politics, he knows this."
Charles crossed his arms behind his back. "However, it's often easier to accept reassurance from friends, rather than strangers." A nod to the tension between Charles and Howard after Charles had returned from his first communication session with Hermione and had told everyone there that Hermione would be spending large amounts of time with him from then on at the Institute.
She frowned. "You're not strangers. After this much time, you're peers amongst the scientific community. Business partners even," she shook her head, "with how you're both invested in helping me."
He paused. "It is not out of business that I help you, Hermione. Not anymore, not really. It's my pleasure," he said, looking down at her again. Then her friend's unfurling smile settled over Hermione far warmer than the June heat ever could. His eyes seemed to twinkle. "My hope."
Hazel eyes met her chocolate brown, full of warmth with a sense of grounding, like toes digging into soft grass. "You have no idea what that means to me," she answered, crossing her hands. Her spirits thoroughly lifted, enjoying herself for the first time in weeks. In truth, since the last time, she had spoken to Charles.
In the back of her mind, she knew these sometimes overly warm feelings towards the professor were due to her loneliness. He was still the only person she could really talk to. She had not seen the Ancient One in over a year at this point, following a lesson the older woman had given her hurriedly one afternoon, talking about conserving energy, before she had disappeared again, muttering about having to protect the time stream from what sounded like Eternals.
Charles cleared his throat and looked upwards again, away from Hermione's eyes. "Mr. Stark also regrets to inform you that after your last communication, he has not been able to find anything. There has been no mention of Wolverine or a James Howlett, found alive within his private investigation."
Hermione's smile fell to a frown. Since being able to communicate with the outside world, Hermione also desired to contact old friends. Those that knew who, what, she was without breaking international law and divulging her many secrets. Her list of people in that category was hilariously small, and the Beastly brothers made 2/2 on the list.
"Is... is he dead?" She couldn't imagine the fierce man she had come to know through the War laying down quietly for death. Something must have happened.
"No," Charles answered, "not dead. Just- gone."
Something definitely happened then. Wolverine- just, gone? Howard and his investigative team didn't find anything? That couldn't be right. And what of Sabertooth? Where had both the Beastly Brothers gone to?
"While there was mention of a cabin owned under James Howlett in Canada, it was abandoned a handful of years ago without warning." Unease curled in her stomach. "Mr. Stark says that his investigators reported that the locals knew the man matching his description, but only as a simple lumberjack. He and his girlfriend, a local school teacher in the area, went missing at the same time last year."
That… sounded ominous.
"And his brother?"
His eyebrows lowered. "Victor Creed, also known as Sabertooth, apparently went rogue in 1978 from under US Military jurisdiction. No mention of him has been put forth since. Apparently, there's a bounty on his head by Major William Stryker Jr-"
"That anti-mutant CIA Operative I always hear on the radio?"
"This would be his son."
"Ah."
"Yes, they seem to share the same viewpoints when it comes to mutants, unfortunately."
Bitterness, grown from the echoes of radio shows and television specials Hermione had heard over the years demonizing mutants, rose from within her. While they weren't her people, specifically, Hermione hated, hated the fact that this world subjugated differences more than even her own home world. To be mutant here was turning out to be in-human. Un-human. Feared and hated.
"Of course they do," she spat venomously.
Charles's long gate slowed, and he turned to face her. Decades worth of patience and tolerance creased the lines of his eyes. "From what Mr. Stark said, both brothers are currently missing and no one knows where. For James, even how or why." The warmth of his eyes dimmed, heavy with secondhand sorrow. "It is hard to hear, especially if they are our friends, but don't let others' hate spoil your good heart, Hermione. It does no one justice."
Hermione turned from him, eyes toward the ground. It was too close to a reprimand, and she felt her hope slip away. "Would you be willing to find them-" Hermione asked gently, hesitantly even because she knew that this would be a large request, "-with Cerebro?" A powerful machine within the Institute that was personalized for Charles Xavier's own mutant telepathic abilities. And while his abilities were incredibly strong on his own, Cerebro gave Charles additional power to expand his mind and reach so that it covered all the Earth. He could stop a mutant from moving a continent away. He could pinpoint where a mutant was just by following their mental signature within his mind. A dangerous tool for a mutant so strong, and Charles knew it.
Should the government know about it at all, the Institute would be shut down and Charles most likely thrown in the deepest pit of prison they could find. Charles only used Cerebro recently to stop physical attacks that came from those that tried to hurt him or the Institute.
"Do you wish for me to?" he asked. "We held off once because you did not want to invade their privacy."
"Yes, but Howard's team found nothing," Hermione argued. "And what little they did find makes me... uneasy."
Hermione heard his calm breath out. Confirmation and acceptance, perhaps. "Then you need only ask."
Hermione took a deep breath and looked the professor in the eyes. "Please," she said, "when you have the time, look for them for me, will you? If not a location- then, just how they are. If they meant to go to ground and disappear, I will not follow, but if they were forced or are in hiding because of something..." Hermione could physically do nothing about it, but she would know at least. She could tell Peggy and Howard. "Please."
He looked to be warring with himself over something. thoughts passing over his face too fast for Hermione to follow, but eventually, he answered with a soft smile. "Of course, Hermione. Of course, I will help you with this."
She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Relief flooded through her. He didn't have to- Merlin, people would probably argue against it, but she had asked and he'd agreed. As powerless as she felt, she was damned happy she had the friends she did.
She sniffed once, turned on her heel, and began to walk again. There would be no tears today. No sir. "You-" she started, and cleared her throat. "You met them once, didn't you?"
Charles blinked at the turn of her tone. "Only Mr. Howlett. Just the once, as Erik and I were trying to gather mutants for our newly put-together X-Men. Sometime in 62', I believe." He huffed a thin laugh. "He, in what I assume was in his usual demeanor, told us to simply 'fuck off' before we'd hardly had a word in."
Hermione fought to smile. Yes, that did sound like him.
But the other part of her mind wandered to Erik, and then the thought of laughing made her sick to her stomach. She knew all about her almost-child at this point. Between SHIELD files, the news, and Charles's own experience, the little boy she'd known who held such careful hope at a kind world had turned into a brutal man. A violent, distrustful, powerful, man.
The kind of man that had made Hermione cry bitter tears for days on end when she'd finally heard the story of his life. He was her biggest regret, she knew in her soul. Bigger than losing Steve even, because Erik had been hers to care for and therefore hers to lose and destroy.
He was now the kind of man that had sunk so far, that he'd crippled Charles. He'd gone on a murder spree against his past captors from his time in the concentration camp. He'd killed United States President John F. Kennedy with mutant sympathizer Lee Harvey Oswald because of his differing beliefs. He had murdered a President. Or so the world told her.
Anger, disappointment, and regret threatened to overwhelm her again, annoyingly, and Hermione hurried her footsteps.
Charles was quick to catch up, careful of the oppressive silence that now lay between them. He put his hands into his trouser pockets, looked up at the shafts of summer sunlight filtering down the trees, and blew a heavy breath.
This was not how she wanted to spend her time with Charles, with what little he could afford to spend with her when he stepped away from the Institue and the government, but her mood only worsened the more she thought about her almost-son.
"Well, I should also tell you that Mrs. Carter-Cousa wished to inform you that she won't be able to visit next month as planned," he continued on dutifully. Ignoring past hurt was getting to be as easy as not breathing.
Hermione blinked and then nodded. As disappointing as it usually was, she pushed aside her own feelings. Her friend was saving the world. She could not be there every moment Hermione wanted. "Off ousting another Widow program?" She asked lightly.
"Birth announcement, actually," the professor answered and Hermione felt her eyebrows raise again. "The first born son of Wakandan King T'Challa is expected to arrive in middle or late August. Because of the normally isolated relationship Wakanda shares with the world, it seems SHIELD is looking to make the get-together a high priority."
Hermione thought of the African country with a nodd of her head. She recognized the name of the place, one of the few countries in this world that simply did not exist in her old one, and of its commodities. Like Charles had said, Wakanda was notoriously known for its isolationist political views, keeping them and theirs to themselves. The only thing she could think of that SHIELD had an interest in was...
"Vibranium," she concluded, nearly under her breath.
Charles's eyebrows rose. "..That's a metal, no?"
"The strongest on earth. The most valuable." The entirety of the US Army's amount had been dedicated to protecting one super soldier, then lost to the Atlantic ocean just as he had been. She would never forget the sight of it.
It did not surprise her in the slightest if SHIELD or other countries wanted some as well, known only to be found within Wakanda. A diplomatic mission for resources then.
"Daniel going with her?"
Because Charles was used unofficially as an owl between Hermione, the Starks, and Peggy, he knew of every family member and friend Hermione did. She thought that they might have even met at one point within their lines of work.
"Mr. Sousa is not. However, Mr. Stark will."
Un-bloody-believable.
Hermione's jaw flexed, and her back teeth ground. Annoyance rolled through her, and she cast her eyes to the side. The man didn't go to his own child's birthday this year, but he could go to another's birth announcement?
When she got her hands on the man...
"Did he say anything about that?" she asked.
Charles sighed. "No, no he did not."
Typical. Hermione was going to wring his neck when she got physical hands again- Merlin watch her.
Tony was his child. As the years passed, the distance between them grew. Hermione had watched it all and hated it. Hated it with every bone in her body, because could the man not see?
The boy was 10 years old now, and a damned prodigy. Whip smart, incredibly so- just like his father, but careful and caring with his relationships like his mother- mostly only with Hermione, his mother, or their butler, Jarvis, but still. He was the absolute best mixture of both his parents and Howard was pushing him away more and more every year- hurting Tony as he did so. She had watched the light die in the boy's eyes one too many times when Howard had dismissed him or snapped at him between his work.
Howard was going to do the same thing she had already done, and let their sons down.
How did he not see? How did he not learn from her mistakes?
The boy was right there.
This if anything anymore, was one of the reasons Hermione yearned to wake up. Not only to throttle her friend within an inch of his life, but also to be there for her nephew (not on paper, but in her heart). She wanted to wake up, take his hands into hers, and let him blossom. To shield him from the hurt that she couldn't watch to bear. To let him be curious and filled with wonder, instead of undermined and interrupted.
Hermione knew she could do it.
Maria tried her best, she really did, but she was a society woman in a world where men had a hand in raising their sons more than a woman did, and Merlin did that burn for Hermione.
Her frown was nearly a snarl when she stopped in place, too angry to even enjoy the outdoors anymore.
"Was there-" she huffed and made herself take a deep (if unnecessary) breath, "-Was there anything more?"
Charles paused. It was the kind that sat in an uneasy silence and raised the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck. It went on for one, two, three moments before Hermione turned to face him and give her full attention. His hesitance did not spell good things. "What?" she demanded shortly. "What is it?"
Her friend looked perturbed. "Howard's investigative team did not find answers to James Howlett or Victor Creed, but they did come across something... else."
Else. What could be worse than the disappearing act of two highly trained mutants that she cared for? "And?" she asked.
"They came across a safehouse in the middle of a Canadian forest, not fifty miles from where James Howlett's home was. Military. Recently used, from what was discovered. Howard had the team split, one to continue after James Howlett, and the other after their new lead." He paused. "Eventually, the new team followed the trail and gained access to a Soviet underground base-"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "In Canada?"
He nodded. "Near the border of Montana. And they found documents referring to an assassin that SHIELD has been following for some years."
"They stumbled across a Soviet underground base with information on a secret Soviet assassin?" she clarified.
"On the Winter Soldier."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "What?" She knew that name. Had heard it from Peggy and Daniel's mouths more than once over the years. A very deadly foe for SHIELD. An ace for the enemy.
"Apparently, he had just completed a job- a geneticist focusing on mutant formation that was found dead later in a hotel- and had retreated to the Soviet base when completed. Something occurred there- something with heavy machinery that was then moved quickly, but some documents from their hurried retreat were left behind. Enough to put together who was there and why."
"That's-" Hermione shook her head. Quite a win for Howard and Peggy. "I'm glad SHIELD could get more information on the man then if we couldn't find James or Victor."
Charles was hesitant again. "It had information on who the identity of the assassin might be. Coded obviously, and not much to go off of, but more than anyone's ever found before."
Hermione nodded but was now confused. Howard and Peggy did not generally speak of specific missions that SHIELD carried out. It was top secret from most of the world, and Hermione could respect that she wasn't actually an agent anymore. She didn't really care either, she only wanted to wake up. So why did it seem that her friends were focused on a single assassin?
The most dangerous assassin in the world, she'd give them that, but it didn't have much to do with-
"They have evidence to believe that the Winter Soldier is in fact, James Buchannon Barnes."
"What?"
Also, someone in Archive of Our Own made a Spotify playlist! Thought I'd share:
"Magic and Time" - Rainvr