fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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Steve might not need Bucky, but Bucky sure as hell needed Steve. He never would have broken his programming if it hadn't been for his oldest friend, and he wouldn't have any reason to keep living past the pain if it weren't for him either. Maybe it wasn't healthy or fair to pile that much on Steve's shoulders, but he couldn't help it being true.

"It's fine, we hashed it out."

As long as Tony left Steve off the teasing for Bucky, which he promised to do, then they would be fine. He could deal with crude jokes about anything else, Steve was the only thing off-limits just in case it clued Steve in to the truth.

"He's like a spoiled kid, doesn't seem like enough people ever taught him no."

Steve had a good laugh about that. “You know, that sounds about right. Howard must have had a hands off approach to parenting and just spoiled Tony rotten. That makes a whole lot of sense.” And it was absolutely wrong. Steve would find that out later, though.

They spent the next day preparing for their flight and by the following morning, the four men were loaded onto the deconstructed Skiff. Tony took them off of their little moon with it’s rough potential beneath them, and shot out into space. Those not in seats, crowded around Stark to watch their hope disappear, fell against the back wall as inertia failed to kick in as strongly as they’d all hoped. Steve had his arms around Bucky as they fell into a pile on the floor, listening to Stark’s “Whoops, forgot to compensate for the lack of weight!” apology from the jumpseat.

It would be a few days before they made it back to Earth through the disruption in the Void, and without much else to do but plan their arrival, Steve spent a lot of time sitting in one of the windows below deck to watch the stars. He looked too big, too jocklike, to be staring wistfully at the stars but he was still just that kid from Brooklyn deep down.

He didn't hear Bucky approach but he saw a glint of his arm reflected on the glass and he tilted his head back and gazed up at his friend.

"This makes me feel small again."

Bucky spends the few days they're up in the air making sure to brief everyone on what they're looking for when they enter Earth's atmosphere. Immediate scans for radiation coverage, and then heat scans for life, would both be necessary. He honestly believed (probably accurately) that mankind might well have wiped itself out aside from a few small pockets in remote locations.

But he knows that sort of thinking makes the others uncomfortable, they're still too full of hope to accept that sort of bleak reality, so he only mentions it a couple of times. Enough to make them agree to his safety checks.

He sits himself down beside Steve and glanced out the small window to look out at the stars where Steve had been gazing.

"You were never small, Steve, not where it mattered."

It was a good thing that Tony wasn’t lurking in the halls to hear that. He would have busted a gut not saying something about how the phrasing went. He was upstairs, retrofitting the scanners because he didn’t trust the weird array of runed crystals to do what Bucky assured him it would. It left the two men, who had technically spent more time apart than they ever were together, sit quietly and contemplate the stars.

Not that Steve was looking at the stars anymore. Not when Bucky’s reflection was now in the glass and they were sitting close enough for their hips and shoulders to touch. Steve would never act on it. He never had and never would. His feelings might not be considered ‘wrong’ anymore, but they still felt wrong sometimes because it was a breach of trust. The one night… Steve sometimes believed that night had never happened. It could have been some sort of delirious dream, Steve had a lot of fever dreams that were strange and vivid before and after that incident.

“In the grand scheme of things, yeah, we both are. And I’m all right with that. All we can do is work hard and save what we can. Who we can.” But Steve was loosing hope that there would be many left. He put a hand on Bucky’s knee, and it was supposed to be a pat, but it lingered a little too long before the blond stood up. “All right, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow is going to be here before we know it.”

And that was the truth. Tony’s voice would come over the intercom (something else he rigged up) less than three hours later. “Everyone to the bridge. You’ve got to see this.”

Steve was the only person that Bucky had ever met that could be both hopelessly idealistic and completely realistic at the same time. Usually the realists tended to be more cautious, or even bitter, unable to see the light that the naive optimists could. And usually optimism was a fragile thing, able to be crushed by the first negative thing that happened.

Not with Steve.

He always looked for the best case scenario, always believed, but he never flinched from the truth when that came either. He wanted to save everyone, but if they got there and it turned out they were all dead, then he'd cope with that too and move onto saving the ones on the training moon. Bucky admired it, always had done, and wished he could see the world through those eyes more than once.

Bucky would be first down to the cockpit when the announcement came, he was a light sleeper and well trained in going from asleep to completely aware in a heartbeat. Though Barton and Steve likely wouldn't be far behind.

"What is it?"

“So… I started picking up radio from the satellites not destroyed in the invasion about an hour ago… And it’s not good,” Tony told Bucky, not waiting for the other two. “Europe is completely gone. I mean literally, completely gone. It’s a black stain. From what I’m gleaning from the news broadcasts before those turned off, Pakistan and India launched nukes and in retaliation, so did Russia and North Korea. The western half of the US is on fire—“ He brought up all sorts of images taken from the scans he lifted from the broadcasts. “New York, Tokyo, DC, Moscow, Oslo… They’re in complete shambles… I guess it’s how they were left. No rebuilding, no nothing. So we aren’t close enough yet to test for radiation but…”

“Jesus Christ.” That was Clint, who leaned against the back of Tony’s chair as he brought up a real time image of what the Earth looked like. No more ball of white clouds whipping around a green and blue globe. The atmosphere looked black, likely from ashy fall all or debris cloud likely broken up from the ground exploding and was now caught in the weather system. “How long before we get close enough?”

“An hour or two. But Clint—“

“I’m going to get ready. I want down on the surface as soon as possible. Iowa, Stark. Aim for the center of the country. Like we discussed. It’ll be safest there.” And while that was true, Tony really just wanted to do a few scanning flybies first before there was boots on the ground.

This was about what Bucky had been expecting and, honestly, a small part of him was relieved. Not because he wanted the world to be dead or dying, but because at least this way they could probably save everyone who could actually be saved. The rare few that were healthy and not dying of radiation sickness or infection or other disease, and that would lead to less guilt for leaving people behind.

"They're probably not there," he said, directed at Clint. He knew whoever the guy was looking for must be in Iowa if he kept pushing for that location, but he needed to be aware that this wasn't a personal mission. Whoever he hoped to find there would most likely be dead and gone (or not, SHIELD knew where to look and Coulson would have got the whole family into one of their bunkers).

"Only Steve and I should leave the ship, anyway. I don't think we can get radiation sickness or, if we can, we'll last a hell of a lot longer than either of you before it starts to get us."

“I agreed.” Since Tony was currently the only one there, he decided to speak up. Clint would just have to understand…and pace. The guy probably had family there. Tony didn’t know him well enough to know if that was a possibility, but it seemed that way. There were probably even kids involved. “But only have we do a full surface scan. I’m not sending you guys down there without knowing where everyone is first.” If there even were people there.

It was a sober approach to their home planet and Steve stood silently and at near attention as he watched Tony run his scans and watched Bucky help to compile them. The pair worked well together, he thought absently, when they weren’t at each other’s throats. He could heard a few words, like radiation and pollution and dead but he chose to block out the context for now until the pair were ready to issue a report.

By that time, Clint had returned and was standing beside him. Tony turned the chair around and a model of the planet came into existence in the space between the two sets of met. It revolved slowly as Tony seemed to manipulate the image with his hands. “Asia’s irradiated. So is Europe. There’s a storm that’s been raging for about a month now that’s actually managed to localize the nuclear fall out to the Eastern and Southern hemispheres. From what I can see, there’s a ground of people in the rural section of Pennsylvania and, Barton’s right, the Midwest is chock full of settlements. So is Canada, Iceland, and the northern parts of Scandinavia. The heat signatures aren’t exact but we’re looking at maybe ten thousand people in areas that we can safely get to and are likely to be healthy. It could be higher but… My guess is that the number of viable survivors is actually lower. We should start with small groups first. They’ll be easier to bring on board, feed, and be sympathetic. We’ll need numbers to convince the rest to come with us.”

"I need my uniform," Steve said bluntly. "That's in a museum right?"

Bucky nodded in support of Steve's statement and piped up before either of the other two men could lodge a complaint about a seemingly frivolous need for an outfit when people were dead and dying everywhere.

"Captain America is recognised, pretty much globally, as a symbol of hope and peace. People are gonna listen to us if Steve shows up in the red, white, and blue. It'll be easier to convince them than it would be if we just showed up in an Asgardian ship and asked them to come with us."

He waited until he had nods, however reluctant, from both men before continuing.

"Drop us in DC briefly and we'll get the uniform, then out to Iowa. From there, drop Steve, and then head up and drop me in Canada. After that, we'll return to the ship with any willing survivors and do the same in Iceland and Scandinavia."

They agreed on Bucky’s strategy immediately, especially once Iowa was mentioned as a second hit and off they went to DC. As Tony landed on a flattened piece of the mall, rubble and the remains of a civilization evidenced for them in full color, he picked up a strange radiation signature and rushed down to stop Bucky and Steve from leaving just yet. He was out of breath by the time he reached the doors, eyes wide and weird smile on his face.

“Banner. Banner’s here. He’s in the Air and Space museum. Hopefully as Banner and not the big guy-- Could you-- Could you just check?”

It was a big favor, he knew, especially since no one was familiar with Bruce the way Tony was…in his mind at least. Not as the man that facilitated their torture. He needed that analytical mind here. He needed another genius. He needed…

He needed someone that could understand him.

“If he’s big and green, don’t engage.”

They wouldn't need to go and check.

Bruce had been monitoring the whole area for a while now, he didn't believe that the Asgardians wouldn't return and he would make sure to be ready for them when they did. So when he saw the Asgardian skiff on his little rigged up monitors, he was already heading out to meet it. Strange that it was on its own, but maybe it was a scout ship.

He would be seen coming out of the doors of the museum as a man, but the thunderous look on his face and the green tinge to his skin said that it might not remain that way for very long.

"We'll look for him, Tony," Steve was saying as the door opened and Bucky started down the slight incline towards the street. "We'll find--" Tony wasnt paying a lick of attention to Steve right now, though, as a mop of curly hair approached. Steve turned and glanced over his shoulder and Tony used that moment to rush down the ramp.

It didn't matter that he barely knew Banner, or that a man with his face and voice had been experimenting on them for months. He was not just the first person he'd seen outside of a prison camp in month, but aside from Pepper and Rhodey, he was the only one he wanted to see.

"Banner!"

If he was younger, he might have skipped.

Surprise wasn't always a good thing for a man needing to control his heart rate, but in this instance it was a welcome shock, because it sapped away at his anger and replaced it with confusion. He knew that voice, though he hadn't really thought about Tony in months, and it was the last one he expected to see.

"...Tony?"

He took a tentative step closer to the skiff, just as the man running down the ramp got grabbed by a brunet with a metal arm and yanked back inside.

"Radiation, Stark, don't be a goddamn idiot. You and Barton stay on the ship."

Other than an ‘oofph’ from the force of being pulled back, bruises absolutely left bright on his arm from that interaction, Tony’s next string of words were all curses and a lot of cartoonish anger leveled at Barnes. At the very least, it gave Steve a few minutes to join Bruce towards the end of the ramp. It wasn’t the full force hug that Banner would have gotten should Stark have gotten his way (the man was both against being touched and needing it badly at times), but Steve did offer a little nod of the head and a smile to a compatriot. “Dr. Banner. It’s just us. Sargeant Barnes, Agent Barton, Mr. Stark and myself. We’ve escaped. It’s going to be a whole lot to go over, so I need to know now if you have any other survivors with you? We’ll need to get you all contained and scrubbed of contamination before we let you on board. We have a safe place ready, but we need to get a few things first.”

Tony finally pulled away from Bucky and scowled at him, but did not move to descend further down the ramp.

“We have an ion unit, but it’s a tight fit. You okay with confined spaces? I don’t know how it will react with your whole already irradiated self, but we have to fit a few thousand people on board before we can leave and-- Wow. It’s so good to see you.”

Tony didn’t say that about anyone, but Bruce was a sight for sore eyes!

Bruce could hardly believe this was happening and, for a moment, he genuinely entertained the possibility that he had either hit his head or the strain had caused him to snap and finally lose his mind completely. But logic told him that if he could wonder that, then he was obviously sane enough to recognise reality.

Not usually one for big demonstrations, he nevertheless beamed and shook Steve's hand and then gave Tony the hug he properly wanted when he got on board the skiff.

"You can tell me the whole story later, for now rescue is our first priority, yes? Do you have anywhere on board that can be used for medical treatment? I'm not a proper doctor, and we might pick up someone with more expertise, but I can do some field medicine if it's needed."

Bucky hadn't met Bruce before and so he hung back, but he did give the other man an approving nod for being able to roll so readily with the punches and try to help immediately.

The hug that Tony needed? It lingered. It was the first embrace he’d had in a long time and he really needed it. Poor Bruce likely had no idea what it meant to the Engineer, or why Tony had latched onto him so fiercely in the first place, but there it was and he could scarcely keep it all together. His eyes were a little wet as he swallowed back some of the pain and finally took Bruce to where he could start to set up the medical bay to his liking. There was a lot there already that he could use but some of it Tony and Bucky hadn’t been able to figure out and so just left it. Just in case. He’d stay lingering in the doorway too, just watching Bruce.

The man was probably going to hate him by the end of this with how very clingy Tony was being, considering that they barely knew each other. Hopefully he’d just let it go as some sort of trauma that Stark had sustained and let it go as that.

Back on the planet, Steve moved through the streets slowly, as if this was in the heart of Germany and not their nation’s capital. Bruce didn’t mention any other survivors, but there were too many places here for people to hide and they couldn’t risk being ambushed. Steve knew what happened to war torn people. They changed. They fought….even those trying to save them.

“It’s clear straight up the Mall,” Steve said, gazing at the ruin of the Washington memorial for a moment, spire broken into three pieces, before he jogged up the front lawn of the history museum.

Bucky kept about four feet back and off to the side of Steve, covering his back in a way that would probably feel right out of history. He hadn't gone like this since the days of the Howling Commandos, but both fell back into the routine of it with ease. Not that there was any need, this area was incredibly radioactive and Bruce hadn't been lying when he said that he was the only one alive there. Occasional bodies were the only other thing around.

The suit was exactly where it should be, along with a prototype version of the shield. Still vibranium, the shield he had used back in the war, before SHIELD had made him a new one when he came out of the ice. Pitted and battle scarred, but definitely useful.

"We're gonna need to find a way to decontaminate all of this before you can wear it. Even with our metabolism, long exposure to radioactive material isn't a good idea, and you'd make the other people around you sick."

Bucky's voice echoed in the chamber of the museum oddly, just highlighting how empty the room was.

Steve had never been to the exhibit. While he did hear everything that Bucky said, it didn't exactly connect to meaning, not when he was looking up at blow up, restored images from the prop films that they had made during the war. There were so many candids, all in black and white, most of which contained Steve himself and the other men he'd served with.

He felt sad, suddenly, an effect of nostalgia on a guy who had been lonely for the past but had never had the chance to be directly confronted with it.

"If we take everything back in the cases," he said, voice low, words barely formed, "that should help." Answering without hearing, that was another way the serum had improved him. His ability to compartmentalize and focus on just one thing while still reacting to the things around him had saved him in many, many situations. "Look at them, Buck...this was right after we rooted out that Nazi sympathizer stronghold..." Everyone was smiling, a posed photograph blown up and framed behind glass. Steve touched it, ignoring the Velvet ropes. "No one died that day. It was such a good day." And there was Bucky, laughing beside him. Young. Incredibly handsome. He never showed any signs of distress from that first torture session under HYDRA hands. Steve had been so stupid to believe he hadn't been hurting.

Bucky stepped up beside Steve on silent feet and looked up at the picture, seeing it moving inside his mind. He could hear Gabe cracking some dumb joke and everyone laughing, not because it had been that funny, but just because they had been drunk on the adrenaline of still being alive.

A small smile touched his lips, here and gone in a moment, before he turned away from that picture to where a broken cinefilm projector was playing a jarring loop of a few seconds of Steve waving at a crowd rather than the full movie it was meant to play.

"They'd be proud to know we were still fighting to save the world, even if we hoped it would be saved after that war."

And at least none of them would have lived to experience the terror these days had brought.

"There's always war. There is always going to be war. We didn't even stop it...two big bombs dropped on civilian cities ended the war for us." And that was just simplistic and not wholly true but Steve had read about the atom bombs after being rescued from the ice. "Funny that it might have ended the world." Funnier still that the Asgardians, which had triggered the end of civilization on this planet, might also be responsible for saving it, once they rescued whoever they could from the training moon.

Steve stayed stoic as he ripped the glass, humidity and temperature controlled case containing his old uniform right out of the display. No alarms sounded. The electricity hadn't been cut off, but the alarm system was by the EMP caused by the aftershocks of the bombs dropped over this city after the Asgardian ravaged it.

He carried the case with him, passed the displays of his old sketchbooks, two of which were opened to pages of Bucky Barnes and two more each of Peggy. Peggy's images were beautiful, but also sincerely platonic. Steve had too much respect to show her the way that might dishonor her image. He didn't flaunt how beautiful he found her, how kissable her lips looked--

But the sketches of Bucky?

Those were almost embarrassingly intimate. There was even a little memorial plaque states that the images were of Steve Rogers' best friend, drawn during war time, and that many of the images, which could be found online at the museum's website, during this time period were of the realities of war as depicted on the face of his childhood friend.

Neither Bucky nor Steve could know it, but their relationship had been the subject of countless debates. Historians had written books on it, students had studied it as part of their thesis on LGBT members of the military. These sketches, so intimate and detailed, and a number of letters sent from Bucky back to Steve in New York before he enlisted were used as the primary evidence for supporters of the theory that they had been in love.

There were also, of course, those who adamantly opposed those theories and there had even been controversy in the past where extremist Christians had picketed a college teaching that theory, denouncing them for smearing the name of one of America's greatest heroes. Bucky didn't know any of that, all he knew was that the sketchbooks caught his eye and he couldn't leave them, metal fist leaving shards of glass everywhere so that he could tuck both into his jacket.

"...let's get back, we need to get out towards the survivors as soon as possible. I know this looks awful, but there's still hope. That moon we found is incredibly sustainable with energy and places to grow food. We can start over, figure it out."

Humanity wouldn't die because of this.

"Love how you suggest that when I'm already out in the hall first," Steve said from around the corner, the case with his uniform sticking up over a partition wall that once was used to display and to guide visitors around the exhibit. "Also gonna beat you back!" Steve just couldn't stay somber for long. This was his past, this was a place he could never again get to, so being upset about it, for missing his old life, was ridiculous. And if that was silly, so was letting it affect him enough to cloud an afternoon racing his best friend back to the Asgardian skiff through radioactive streets carrying museum memorabilia that had once changed lives and launched careers of people that had been touched by seeing Captain America and his fellows in their old glory.

The headstart didn't end up helping Steve win the race, he was too bogged down by the heavy case that he nearly dropped inside the skiff before he caught himself on a large golden metal beam to keep from crashing.

A plastic shower curtain of sorts had been set up between the hold and the rest of the skiff and Tony's voice gave just one warning before Bucky and Steve were drenched in fluid to remove and wash away the lingering radioactive particles on their clothes and skin: "Hold your breath, guys."

He wa eating freeze dried blueberries in Bruce' lab, sitting on a console that had not been torn out, and watched Steve and Bucky fight against the shock of the cold shower.

"Probably should have warmed it," he grinned at Bruce and offered him the bag.

Bruce was still reeling from the fact that he had been rescued and, more than that, that there might actually be hope for rescuing other people and rebuilding. He had thought that he would be left alone on a dying world, unable to join the rest of his race, alone forever. It made him feel even friendlier towards Tony than he had anyway.

Pausing in the middle of sorting through what medical equipment there was, he glanced up at the screen and grinned in return, though he didn't take the blueberry offered to him.

"Careful, annoy them too much and you might end up having to ask me for a set of false teeth when they knock yours clean out."

"Barnes has already threatened that. I have to watch my mouth, not my temperature control," Tony said, shrugging at the disregard of the offered food. Bruce would have to go through the radiation bath eventually too and it was probably good that he didn't touch the food that Tony was shoveling into his mouth. "Though speaking of having to engineer myself some backup teeth..."

Tony leaned forward on the button the transmit what he was saying to the laughing, horse playing super soldiers.

"Hey guys, got one more stop before we go and see what Barton's been hiding from us. There's an arc reactor sunk into the Bay and if Rogers gets his fancy frills, I want mine too." There was just a prototype of his armor at the old Tower, but Tony could do a lot with just a prototype.

As the shower shut off, Steve shook his head to clear his ears and wiped the water from his face, hair slicked back. "You could have saved the bath for after the errand!"

Tony grinned at Bruce. "Oops."

Bruce pushed off the low table he had been working on and rolled up his sleeves, already resigned to having to go through that too. He wasn't sure how effective it would be considering that he was pretty radioactive by his very nature, but it might be able to keep him from being dangerous to be around for other people. It wouldn't be good if the resident doctor just made patients even more ill.

"You should put me through that shower now," he said, as Bucky and Steve prepared to go off on the new mission for Tony once he got them a bit closer. The armour would probably take both of them to carry, as it wouldn't be operational, JARVIS had been taken out by the EMP, but they could get it.

"Anything else that's needed?" Bucky asked. "We might as well get everything now, it'll be harder once we start to pick people up."

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