Author's Note: I watched (and then read) The Martian this weekend. It's ridiculous good. I blame it for the title of this chapter.

Previously on "It's a Wonderful Life (on Earth-3490)"

After 3490 Steve and Tasha find that alternate versions of themselves have suddenly shown up in their dimension, they decide to harass Reed Richards for the information on other realities that he gathered with his machine called The Bridge.

A skrull in the guise of Sue Storm-Richards makes that a little difficult, however, by opening a portal to the negative zone directly over the Baxter Building.

Tasha and Steve manage to save the day and make it to their wedding on time, but...well...WAS that really Steve?

When Tony walked into the workshop, Tasha was flat on her back at the epicenter of the explosion that had just rocked Avengers Tower. She wore a single gauntlet and a profound look of self-hatred. It was an all too familiar situation.

"So, recreational or professional explosions?" He asked.

Tasha dragged herself out of the blast radius by a twisted section of one of her work tables. When she was upright again, she jerked her hand back as if it burned her even through the gauntlet. She looked betrayed and disgusted as she turned a repulsor blast on the table.

"Unless you're here to update me on Romanoff's interrogation, you should get out." Tasha's tone was brisk, efficient. Very, very un-Stark-like. "I'm destroying anything the Skrull might have touched."

She turned away to disassemble another contraption with ruthless efficiency, metal gears and springs flowing through her single, ungauntleted hand like a waterfall. Tony fiddled with a catalytic converter, reassembling it out of pure contrariness. With Tasha's back to him, Tony could see a nasty burn flexing and healing through a ragged gap in her t-shirt.

"Sounds like a pain in the ass." He mused. "Considering Extremis is patching you back together faster than you can tear yourself apart."

Tasha slammed a wrench down on the last remaining bits of the gizmo in front of her and swept all of it onto the floor with a deafening clatter.

"Go fuck yourself." She responded without looking in his direction. Her words were apathetic, incongruous with her actions.

"It's a little too soon after your wedding for you to be propositioning me, don't you think? Even we Starks can probably maintain a hour 24 hour monogamy zone."

"My husband's a skrull. That's grounds enough for an annulment."

"You didn't marry a skrull. You married Captain…"

That got to her. Tasha rounded on him, real violence in her face as she stalked towards Tony. "Don't say it. You have no idea how long…"

"Ma'am." Rogers' voice was quiet from the doorway. The crunch of glass under his feet almost drowned out the single word as he slipped into view.

Tony thought it might have been less painful to let her rip him apart than to see that single word tear through Tasha like a gunshot.

"Right. Here to save me from myself?" Tasha gestured between herself and Tony, her smile like the shards of a broken mask sliding over her face. They could see the blood welling up through the cracks. "That's typical. That's fucking typical."

Looking at Rogers, she held the nonchalant act together for only a couple of seconds. Her face twisted like it was trying to become someone else. This wasn't her Steve. So, she couldn't be his Natasha. Couldn't be anyone anymore. Her face was just anguish.

Tony used the distraction to slap a tranquilizer patch on her neck before skittering out of reach, hands held high in a peaceful gesture. Tasha, already feeling the effects of the drug, ripped it off with fumbling fingers. It had already done its job, though. Rogers kicked a half melted office chair underneath her just as her knees gave out. He was there an instant later, helping Tony set her down.

Tasha let her face fall into the cradle of Steve's neck as she slumped. Her hands, though, her hands were balled into fists on the thighs of her jeans. She was Not. Going. to. Cry.

"Why do you hate me?" She asked Steve, her words slurring under the weight of the new chemicals. Steve stiffened. "I'm sorry. So sorry I didn't realize sooner. I mean, look adju two…" The motion of her hand almost unseated her as she gestured at Tony and Rogers. Steve held onto her tighter. "We hate me. I should have known when…"

Tasha's voice cracked, and she rocked back and forth. "M'not gonna cry for you, you fucker." Speaking felt like her chest was full of crushed glass. "...You never loved me. I'm so sorry. I was selfish, and I didn't see…You never loved me."

She stopped breathing entirely for a long minute. "Shit, Steve, I-I...don't know how to DO THIS without you."

Her hands twisted desperately in Rogers' hoodie. "I'm not allowed to love you anymore, but God, I can't stop. And, it hurts...So...Bad."

Rogers' could feel her breath softening, her body going limp like an exhausted child.

"Don't you apologize. Never." He whispered into her soft locks of hair. "Not. Ever. Not for who you love or how fiercely. I would be damned proud to be loved with a tenth the force that you make coffee in the morning."

Tasha finished slipping into unconsciousness.

"We do love our coffee." Tony quipped, but it didn't have any of his usual heat. He crossed to Tasha's right side to start removing her gauntlet. Steve had to pry her grip loose from his hoodie even in sleep.

When Tony crouched down, he ran a hand down his face to get rid of the unshed tears blurring his vision. He blinked a couple of times and opened his eyes wide before running his nimble fingers over the metal plates, searching for the catches. "With Extremis burning through the tranq, she'll be out an hour, tops. I'm more a scotch man, but it'll give her some emotional distance. Get her back to limping."

The manual override released with a pop, and he was pulling Tasha's slim hand free. Steve hefted her into a one armed grip, his arm under her thighs to boost her further up his shoulder.

With his free hand, he snatched Tony into his side. "I don't hate you." God, those words were woefully inadequate.

"Okay, Cap." Tony didn't take his gaze off of the gauntlet he was twirling in his hands.

Rogers let out a frustrated sigh at the neutral acknowledgment, squeezing Tony tighter for a second before he had to let go. He carried Tasha to the doorway and then stopped.

"And that stupid thing you're thinking about doing?"

Tony raised an eyebrow in both challenge and offense. He gripped the gauntlet tighter. "Yeah?"

"You want some help with that?"

Tony's smile was entirely vicious. "Absolutely."

Steve stiffened even before the glorified cattle prod could make contact with his skin. His muscles contracted, bowing him off of the wall and throwing into stark relief the half healed electrical burns littering his pale skin. Plenty more had already faded into invisibility.

When the current stopped, he couldn't help but gasp for air. The sound was pained. Broken. Steve reigned it in and counted out deep breaths until the constriction in his chest retreated. It took longer and longer each time. When he could talk again, Steve set his jaw and intoned the phrase he'd already said a half-hundred times:

"Name: Steven Rogers

Rank: Captain

Serial Number: 54985870

Birthday: July 4th, 1918"

The Skrull seemed no more interested in this information than the first time he'd said it. And how long ago had that been? Steve couldn't remember. Funny side effect of torture, that.

In fact, the Skrull didn't seem seriously interested in any information. However long he'd been in there, Steve had begun to suspect they just wanted to watch him break. The feisty little shit from Brooklyn reared his head and spat on the ground. It was tinged with blood from the teeth marks on his tongue. So were his lips as they curled into a smug smile.

"I can do this all da—" His head cracked against the wall as the next round of electricity was applied.

"I can't do this." Tasha was the one who was green, now, staring through one-way glass at the Skrull who had slipped her husband's face back on like a mask. She had slept like shit for less than an hour under the effects of the tranquilizer. Despite her words, though, she knew she would do whatever was asked of her. It was that or never sleep another minute again. Dreams about Steve already ate at her.

"You're best suited for this interrogation." Romanoff's tone left no room for argument.

"That's-that's bullshit!" Nat spluttered. "You could go in there and break his kneecaps, have him singing like a canary in seconds."

"Information acquired through torture is highly unreliable." Her gaze was like a knife sliding right between Tasha's ribs. "Do you want to leave Steve's life to questionable intelligence?"

"Fuck you, Jessica Rabbit." Tasha's reply was weak. She wanted to be angry, furious, cursing the heavens and pounding in faces...she just didn't have room for it anymore. Which was interesting considering the recent vacancy in the region of her chest cavity.

Romanoff watched her carefully before doling out words like the clink of coins on the cosmic scales judging us all. Staccato. "When an...asset." Her face screwed up as if the word was viscerally repugnant. "...is placed in deep cover, they are no longer the person they used to be. They have only their new life. It consumes them. The man in that room adores you. He is your new husband, and you have him wrapped around your little finger. If you walk in there as his wife, he will give you whatever you want...Or he'll hate you. You can use that, too."

Stark jerked away from her. "Jesus, Natasha, how do you live like that?"

The curl at the corner of her mouth was not a smile. "Call me Natalia."

Right. Tasha's head jerked in a nod. You don't live like that. You become someone new. Tasha reached into her shirt and pushed her tits up in her bra before pulling the dog tag and ring from inside of the tee. Her shit eating grin was one she'd worn to thousands of press conferences.

It was as polished as a shield.

Muspelheim in Tony and Steve's Dimension

The fires of Muspelheim raged around Thor as he faced his mighty foe Surtur. Sweat dripped from his brow after only bare minutes in this cursed realm, and he wondered how the Black Widow had managed to survive in such an inhospitable clime for so long. As capable as he knew her to be, Muspelheim was no place for mortals.

Of course, Loki was here, as well, and the gift of Jotun magic could bestow many advantages. Why and how Loki had come to this realm when he had not been a part of their mishap at the tower was an unsettling question for which Thor still had no answer. The easy partnership he had found between the Widow and Loki when he first stumbled into this realm troubled him almost as much. Even now, Natasha was slipping closer to claiming the throne of Muspelheim while Loki and he served as a distraction to Surtur. In truth, Thor felt he was hardly needed here.

"Take your time, Asgardian. I think this a lovely vacation!" The bite of Loki's words snapped Thor's gaze from where it had drifted dangerously close to the throne. It wouldn't do to reveal their ruse now. Loki's bright blue form stood in stark contrast to the fiery Surtur as the trickster used the Casket of Ancient Winters to hold the demon at bay.

Loki had never revealed his Jotun form to Thor before.

Thor extended his arm, calling Mjolnir from where it had been flung when Surtur caught him off guard. He had been disoriented after tripping involuntarily through the nine realms, carried ever onward by the inertia of his spell. Cauterized claw marks twisted with the flex of his muscles and set fire anew as the salt of sweat poured into them.

"Certainly, Loki. What are big brothers for if not to fight the scary monsters on your behalf?"

Loki's incredulous glare was met with Thor's cocky grin. It was the first look they had shared since Loki had taken up the Casket. Since Loki had revealed his true nature. This familiar banter melted a tension between the two Thor had not realized separated them for years, now.

The familiar hilt of Mjolnir smacked into his palm. Thor raised it to the heavens, gathering strength in his mighty thews to deal a felling blow to Surtur while his puny brother looked on in amazem...

"Could you refrain from narrating your battles?" Loki groused. "Imbecile."

Thor's laughter was booming as he brought the hammer down towards Surtur's forehead…

...and was unable to stop his swing as it crashed through several shelves of glass sculptures. Thor sighed, resigned at having been displaced once more throughout the nine realms. He took some of the least damaged figurines and began arranging them on a nearby table. A centaur and a fish may or may not have ended up in a compromising position. Ah, star crossed love.

"Hey! I could have gotten, like, 900 bucks for those on ebay!"

Thor caused even more damage by guiltily jerking around, on edge after his misadventures.

"Whoa, big guy, take it easy." Darcy cautioned from the doorway, held aloft in the arms of a Light Elf.

Thor's brow creased in concern. "Are you injured?"

"Huh?" Darcy's head swiveled around to take in her noble steed. "Oh, yeah. Fara, meet Thor and Myeuh-Muh. Thor and Myeuh-Muh, meet Fara. There was a thing with...you know...gravity."

Thor rubbed a hand over his mouth to conceal the quirk of his lips. "Of course, Alfheim does have nearly one and a half times the gravity of Midgard. I imagine it is tiring."

Darcy clambered down, and Thor and the Light Elf exchanged a warrior's grasp. "Faradei, old friend."

"This one you have sent us is a handful. Maybe next time you send a bilgesnipe instead, no?" Faradei's expression was amused, but his eyes shuttled quickly over Thor's wounds, assessing. Frost burns and scorch marks lay in a scattered patchwork across his skin. "I will leave you at her mercy as I shamelessly escape—" The face Darcy pulled clearly pleased him. "—or such is my excuse, fetch someone to tend you."

Faradei dropped a kiss on Darcy's hand before exiting, and a twinge of jealousy struck Thor at his friend's easy flirtation. His own courtship of Jane seemed comprised entirely of moments of fumbling admiration interspersed with wide gaps of avoidance and self-doubt. All while Jane was an unwavering flame of brilliance and passion.

"That guy has no idea." Darcy's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I haven't even tasered anybody yet. He'll probably want to have five hundred of my babies when I do."

Thor's only response was to sway with exhaustion, his eyelids drooping heavily.

"Alright, muscles. Sit. Spill. Have you found everyone out there in space?"

Thor shambled to the bed provided to Darcy by the hospitality of the Light Elves and collapsed onto it. He felt the slight weight of her settle next to him before he began his tale. "I have cycled through the nine realms several times now and located all of our companions save Steve and Tony."

Tired as he was, Thor couldn't help but smile at his remembrances. "Banner and Betty have become surprisingly fast friends with my niece Hela, ruler of Helheim. I suspect she grows bored of the endless battles and enjoys the distraction of their conversation. They are having tea."

Darcy watched as it took longer and longer for his eyes to open after each blink. "I know you're on this crazy tilt-a-whirl through space right now—I can tell because it looks like you're about to blow caramel apple chunks all over my room—but when was the last time you slept?"

Thor's silence answered well enough. The leather of Mjolnir's hilt creaked as his knuckles whitened around it. Any moment he would be flung across the universe to face ice or flames, shadows or searing light, and he had no reckoning why. Only a burgeoning fear. Even his paltry skills with magic should not have resulted in this disaster. He could not have plucked Loki from his travels, much though he desired to do so. Then there was Sam Wilson called Falcon, of whom he had no knowledge, off in Vanaheim with Hawkeye fighting shadow nyxes. A greater hand was starting to take shape in all of this, and he would dearly love to break it.

"Jane is in Asgard, right? She'll have all this figured out in no time, and she'll kill me if I let you go too banana balls. You've got twenty-three minutes before you pull the disappearing man act again. I'll wake you in twenty."

"You are a true friend, Lady Darcy."

"Hi, hubby." Tasha planted herself right in not-Steve's lap. "Miss me?"

"Hello, whore."

Fuck. That stung more than it should have when she knew—she knew—this wasn't Steve.

Her face turned down in a moue of disappointment as she bopped his nose with a finger. "Incorrect terminology, bonbon. If I was a whore, I would be the only person who could afford me. I prefer to share. Don't you want to share, too; tell me what you're doing here?"

"Sure." Steve's hips rolled against her obscenely. "Am I gonna tell your friends behind the glass what we did last night or just give them a reenactment?"

Last night. Tasha's heart froze and dropped like an iceberg into her stomach. She had hoped...well, it didn't matter now. Hope was for suckers.

Tasha had to fight not to touch the com as Romanoff's cool voice trickled into her ear. "You need details you can corroborate before you accept anything he says as truth. Cap and Iron Woman's wedding was broadcast all over the globe yesterday, bounced off satellites. This planet and probably several others can guess you fucked last night."

"Sorry." Tasha shook her head for Natalia's benefit. There was no way she could open up that line of questioning and make it through this. Her skin already felt like it was boiling off where she was touching S-krul. The Skrull. "Work before play, kitten. You're really going to have to learn Captain America's work ethic if you want to make it as his stand-in."

Her nails skimmed across the table as she circled round to the seat opposite him. "For the sake of argument, let's assume it was you I married yesterday. Did you just watch too many episodes of Say Yes to the Dress or have you been around for a while? Also, I'm definitely taking your spaceship in the divorce."

His lips quirked in her favorite, mischievous smile. Damn him. "Steve Rogers doesn't believe in divorce, ma'am."

She sing-songed a few words, clapping her hands together as if raising a Neverland fairy from the dead. "I DO believe in divorce! I do!"

Steve's face was studiously blank, but that was enough. The Avengers had watched Hook almost a year ago on one of their cheesy, team-bonding nights. The real Steve would have understood the reference.

Gotcha, bitch. Some of Tasha's satisfaction must have shown on her face.

"I have been here for eight months, five days, and twelve hours. Give or take some minutes." The self-congratulation train screeched to an abrupt halt in Tasha's brain as the Skrull recited the exact length of her relationship with...well, apparently not with Steve Rogers.

God. She could remember the moment it had started.

Tasha was sitting on the communal couch with her knee propped on a pillow and her arm in a sling, alone after her crabby attitude managed to run everyone off. They were practically begging her to take her pain meds, but She. Was. Fiiine.

"Hi." Tasha ground out between clenched teeth as Steve walked into the room. He had a purposeful air about him, and Tasha deflated preemptively. She just wasn't up for ten rounds with Captain America today. "Ugh, tell those little shits to stop tattling. I'll take some ibuprofen."

"Good," was Steve's only reply before he knelt beside the couch, kissing her surprised face. Soft. Warm. Sweet. Gah, smelled so good.

Tasha let out a high pitched noise of discomfort when she went to wrap her bad arm around him. Steve immediately, frustratingly pulled away from her to search her face.

Her mind completely blanked. She cast about for something to say to wipe away Steve's wary look. "Is this some sort of Pavlovian reward for agreeing with you for once? Encouraging future, desirable behavior?"

Steve's grin was lopsided and dorky. "Desirable, huh? Depends. Is it working?"

Tasha nodded fast and jittery.

"That's. Very precise." Tasha didn't quite have it in her to thank the Skrull for his cooperation. Steve could be anywhere. She got up to leave.

"Did you really think he could want you?"

"Hell no." It was an easy answer as Jarvis released the lock on the first security door.

"By the time they let you find what's left of him, you won't want him either. I'll be the only one left with his pretty face, his lips, his fingers. The only things you care about."

Tasha checked to make sure the arc reactor wasn't melting to slag inside of her. The instant fucking hatred swept across her skin. She escaped into the space no bigger than a coffin and was grateful.

Behind the knee jerk reaction followed the slow creep of her blood turning to lava. Her heart hardened and her arteries were carved away. It was a relief. She didn't have to pretend anymore. Captain America made her a better person, but he wasn't here right now to see what she was willing to do to the Skrull. What she could enjoy.

"Do you have what you need?" She asked Natalia.

"Yes." The answer echoed as the second door slid open and she came face to face with the assassin.

Tasha's fingers fumbled at the dogtag and ring around her neck, trying to unclasp it before giving up and tearing it away in a broken tangle around her hand. It slipped to the floor.

A red eyebrow raised in pointed disapproval. "You're going to want that later. The Skrull hasn't been here longer than a few hours."

Stark's eyes were flat. The ring stayed on the floor. "This morning, how did you know it wasn't him?"

"I didn't." Romanoff waited for the quip asking her if she makes a habit of tasering Captain America. It didn't come. "You did. I tend to trust in gut instinct."

"He knew things."

"He didn't know any more than what he could get from a cold read and what Steve had in his pockets." Romanoff tried to catch her eyes. "He had Steve's little notebook, the one he doodles in."

Tasha rubbed a hand across her face, feeling old for the first time since she had injected herself with Extremis. Invincibility had seemed like a great idea when Steve was still around. "It doesn't matter. We can figure out the bragging rights later. Right now, Reed's lab is shot to shit, and I still need the data from the Bridge and a Skrull detector. What do you say to breaking onto sovereign Latverian soil and stealing Doom's stalker tapes?"

"That depends. Are you going to pout some more?"

"Been there, done that. My afternoon plans look more like geniusing the shit out of everything and rescuing a national icon." Tasha's mouth soured at the last words past her lips. "Actually, you know what? The nation can go to hell. I'm saving Steve Rogers."

Whether or not she got him in the end, all that mattered was those bastards didn't. Shit, she might even go to ALL of the dimensions and personally escort every single Steve Rogers to safety. She had a wayward one right in her backyard. She could start earning her "Helped an Elderly Citizen Cross the Interdimensional Divide" merit badge right away.

Romanoff's mouth quirked to the side as she answered. "Then I'd say it sounds like fun—and that if I'm right about Steve, I get to kill the Skrull."