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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Bucky was pleased to see this sort of safe zone in place, it might provide a halfway place for people to stay while the skiff transported parties of survivors to the new moon if they wouldn't all fit on the first journey. But he was less pleased when the refugees started talking like Steve was the one to blame for all of this.

"If you want answers, you need to shut up and listen for them."

His voice wasn't loud, it rarely rose above a low rumble now, but it was firm and commanding. His whole presence probably helped, even seated on the grass there was no mistaking that Bucky was a predator.

"These people came from another reality, one where there were alternate versions of ourselves. Steve has been a captive, same as everyone else who was taken, he can't help someone else with his face worked for them."

His eyes dared the kid to call that story a lie.

"But nobody's forcing you to believe us or come with us. Stay here, it's your life."

Steve could stick up for himself, but in this case, it was better that someone else do it for him. His word was no good right now, and he wondered if it was wise to have bothered with getting the uniform. Steve immediately took that back, though. Of course it was. Bucky took the sketchbook and that had been the only reason that they'd gotten together. He needed to tough this one out and was about to say something when Tony Stark of all people cleared his throat and stood up.

"We were captive together. Barton, Rogers and I. Barnes was in the cage next to us. He wasn't the only one with a double. Thor, even Bruce over here. Me." All eyes were on him and that was where Tony was most comfortable, being in the spot light. He moved slowly, walking behind where Steve sat, his hands in his pockets. The angry kid was just scared. Tony could see that. He made a grand gesture of rolling his eyes over Bucky's shoulder. "No one is leaving anyone if we can help it, okay? Cool your jets, Barnes. This is just our first stop. There's people dotted all over the Midwest and then we're heading up to Canada. We have a safe place to take you before we go to rescue the other people that were taken."

The group murmured between each other, but the boy just stalked off. Normally Steve would follow him, to see if he was all right, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't want to see him.

"Are you going to rescue everyone then? Is that the plan?" A foreigner with dark skin and a soft, British accent asked. He worked for SHiELD and was part of the team sent with Natasha Romanoff to collect Bruce from Calcutta. He was one of the few that made it off of the hellicarrier.

"Sure gonna try. But that means we can't linger. Everything you can carry needs to go on the skiff and then we need to go. Sorry for the lack of reunion but we're on a schedule, folks," Tony said.

A whisper went around some of the group like wind through rushes, of those that had heard the name Barnes and put it together with who this must be. Bucky Barnes wasn't quite as well known as Captain America himself, but he wasn't far behind, if only because he was always mentioned when the first was brought up. Best friend, war hero, deceased in action.

That, if nothing else, helped give credence to the story. They assumed that this must be an alternate Bucky who had never died and had come back to stand at the shoulder of his oldest friend again. It was almost a shame the history classes weren't running in the end of the world, as they'd have a field day with this sort of thing.

"He's right," said Bucky, stretching to his feet and starting off after the kid that had stalked off. "Everyone has thirty minutes to get whatever supplies they need or want, nobody brings more than one backpack worth on board for space. Go."

A few of the people stood staring, before Steve reiterated the order in slightly kinder tones, and Clint chivvied his family into the barn to get their things, unwilling to release any of them from his sight for a while. Bucky let them get on with it, easily tracking the dark-skinned teenager down.

"You're scared, but we don't need aggression right now. We have to work together, so grow up."

Leaning down over Steve's shoulder, Tony couldn't help but notice: "He's really not so great with the pep talks yet, huh? Okay, everyone, let me help out. We have a lot of things already so let's just take essentials like cell phones and as much jewelry as you can wear." What? He might need the metals.

The SHIELD agent left, beside Clint, re-introduced himself to Bruce as Mohinder Suresh, in Tamil, a slow smile on his face, easy and accepting. Tony didn't really like that sort of fraternation with his new best friend, but he had a few kids on his arms, full of germs and stickiness, but it was probably better than any hot women he might encounter.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself around women. At least the ones here all seemed to have other priorities that did not include flirting.

Upstairs, in one of the hall closets, the sixteen year in the hoodie was almost shaking with anger and fear. He felt himself almost lucky to be here, really. He'd been traveling with an older man, a serial killer, not that he told anyone that, whom he had come to idolize before he dropped him off in an anabdoned dinner in the middle of close to here. That dude was probably alive somewhere, Luke had seen him get shot like it was nothing. Or maybe the aliens got him.It would serve that bastard right.

When Bucky startled him, Luke almost gave himself away, hand raised and muddy eyes hate filled for just a moment before he sunk back into himself.

"What?"

Bucky kept his eyes open as he crept through the house, looking for anything that might be useful to take with them, but his attention was primarily on the teenager locked in his own fear and the lashing out that seemed to be how he dealt with it. It wasn't the most charitable thought, but Bucky would genuinely leave him here if he seemed too much of a troublemaker, they were going to have enough issues on the new world without bringing along someone who could incite fighting.

"I told you to grow up."

He repeated himself without shame, leaning against the door jamb to give Luke his space while they talked.

"You're scared, I get it, but we don't have time for this posturing and aggression. We're trying to rescue humanity and set up a new home, that's bigger than what's happened to all of us."

"How'd you feel if this guy you saw rounding people up like cattle suddenly showed up at the first safe place you've been in awhile and suddenly wants to take you on board an alien ship...the same kind he was herding people onto just a few months ago? You want me to grow up? This has nothing to do with that, man. It's just fucking fishy. But so are you. And so is Stark...and Laura's husband? Shit. Why you guys? Huh? Why not a few regular people other than the doctor?"

At least Bruce's secret was still safe, it seemed.

"You're... We just learned about you in history class, dude. You died, really died. But now you're saying you didn't? Maybe you should grow up and take a look at how this all plays out on people. I want to stay alive here. I don't want aliens to eat me. I'm trying to protect myself. Jesus Fucking Christ!"

He understood that it was confusing and worrying and frightening, but everyone was in the same boat and they just didn't have time to coddle anyone giving into those feelings. Bucky didn't flinch in the face of the accusations or the cursing, only folding his arms over his chest, the metal one catching the light.

"Then you can stay here."

Bucky shrugged.

"We're not here to kidnap anyone against their will, but think hard on if that's what you want, because when we go then we're not coming back. Your decision is the final, you understand that?"

Perhaps emphasising that they weren't about to force anyone to come along would do the trick, they were different from those that had come before.

Luke frowned, staring at his hands. "How much time do I got to decide?" He didn't have any ties to this place. He hated everything. Bucky was probably going to wish that he just left this kid behind at some people. Human beings had grown dangerous. Mutations in their genome had enabled people who already had a penchant for evil to commit that evil. After hearing that he had a half an hour to get his shit together and get outside, Luke nodded. "Yeah... Okay, I'll... Guess we'll see."

Luke would be out there with everyone else, hopeful and afraid people clutching a backpack.

Tony was glad to find Bruce standing by himself, just watching, and he stood with his feet apart by his side. "So this is like our Mayflower. What are the chances half of us could die of cholera? Give it to me straight, doc, I can take it. And also steal all the oranges." That would be for scurvy, but Tony got the strangest things mixed up sometimes.

Bruce was normally a realist, even a pessimist at times given what his life had done to him and what he had done to himself, but there was still that tiny spark of hope inside him. It was the bit that made him try and replicate the serum to begin with, it was the part that kept him going and helping people instead of completely isolating himself, and now it was the bit looking to the future.

He couldn't help but hope that this new world would be a utopia, that they'd be able to finally build that society free of corrupt politicians and inequality when it came to wealth or resources. They could make sure everyone had enough and everyone was cared for. It probably wouldn't work out that way, but he wanted it to very badly.

"That's scurvy," he corrected Tony absently. "Cholera is from drinking bad water, oranges wouldn't help with that. And I think we're going to be much safer than the Mayflower, the skiff is safe and clean, it's when we get to the new world again that we'll have to keep watch for disease. One epidemic could wipe us out as we are now."

"I'm glad you're with us, Doctor Banner," Tony said, truthfully and heartfelt. "Because I'd be telling everyone to just put Windex on it." No one would get the My Big Fat Greek Wedding reference, but Tony was used to no one getting anything he said so it didn't ever stop him from speaking anyway.

He was feeling better than he had in awhile, being around someone that was nearly on his intellectual level and who didn't know or ever have to know what happened to him...that was a big plus. It was also a plus that he was a man and not a woman. Tony didn't think he'd been put completely off women, but for a little while, he didn't want them touching him.

It was part of the trauma he had experienced, one he'd never get over if he didn't talk about it, but that was on him.

They watched Steve and Bucky guide the group in single and double file through the field, Clint taking up the rear holding his daughter in one arm and taking his son by the hand with the other, Laura at his side. This was a sight that would continue in the settlements across America's Midwest, lines of refuges headed to the ship with just a bag of possessions each, for the next two days until they arrived to a hail of bullets. Luckily, Steve had gone down the ramp first. With his shield.

"Cease fire!" No one listened and the ping of bullets rang out as Steve bum rushed their assailants.

They should have all known it was going too well.

Though there had been some fear and some confusion, the majority of people who came aboard the skiff were so elated to have hope again that they looked to the small group who had escaped the Asgardians and stolen a skiff as near to gods. It was a little uncomfortable at times, especially for Bucky who wanted to sink into the background.

Or-- usually he did, not right now.

No, when people were shooting at Steve, that's when he wanted to be in the limelight. He charged down the ramp behind Steve and vaulted to the side to cover his weak exposed spots, metal arm deflecting bullets just as well as the shield did.

"STOP!" He called out, before trying the same command in a multitude of other languages. "We're here to save you, the ship is a stolen one."

No one stopped.

A few of the people they had picked up a few hours ago mentioned bandits who had raided their hold outs, killed a few of them, stole their food-- No one had known exactly who or where they were but that evidently had just changed. Steve had pretty much been living in his uniform for days now, he hadn't had any time alone with Bucky, and made the decision to just keep going until he was too tired to march down the ramp. Now he was thinking that they should have taken the afternoon off.

Oh well. It had been awhile since he ran like this.

Vaulting easily over tractors parked around the encampment, Steve smacked the shooter with his shield, sending him unconscious and jump-kicked a second man who had been rushing up behind him. More bullets were coming from the barn and so that was where Steve headed, kicking up Kansas dirt with his boots.

"Round back, Sargent!" Nkw technically, there was no such thing as the US Army any more and they were very removed from the organization but old habits die hard.

Part of Bucky was already cataloguing whether they should round the weapons up and take them along, or whether that might be asking for trouble. The guns could help in hunting food, but they could also be used if anyone split off and tried to form their own little settlement, or decided to raid the settlement a few miles from them for extra food, because humans couldn't be trusted to not be dicks to each other.

Obedience completely ingrained, he snapped off to the side as soon as Steve called the order, peeling around the back of the barn to head in from the rear and try and take out the people there.

"Stop right where you stand!"

It was a female voice from high up in the bar, shotgun levelled right at Steve's head.

"We'll not be letting you take us or our supplies!"

Though Steve had his helmet on, it wasn't really meant to sustain damage from a close range shotgun to the head and he stopped, hands up and eyes focused on the space in front of him for anything to use.

"Ma'am, we are not here to rob you or to kidnap you. We are looking for survivors. Earth can't sustain human life for much longer. If you'll lower the gun, I can explain better."

He heard her finger shift on the trigger and he prepared to duck. The hammer did not connect, however and Steve focused instead on the calm way the woman's heart was beating. She wasn't afraid. That was a bad sign. "I don't think so, sir," she shouted down at him and so he turned, slowly, to face her.

"If you and your people aren't willing to come with us, that's all right. We just want to ask everyone all together. Can we do that?"

"I don't think that's gonna happen either, sir," the woman called. "You'll drop your shield and take off that armor of yours and maybe I won't shoot you in the back as you leave."

Steve wasn't the only one who had figured out that the people here weren't the sort they wanted to bring anyway. It seemed like all the ones who enjoyed cruelty, all the greedy, all the ones more than willing to punish others to get what they wanted had managed to gather in one place and prey on others around them.

Bucky took out a few more as he crept through the barn, before sneaking back out and towards the front again. It was only there that he saw the men coming in ambush from behind Steve, a dead sprint propelling him forwards all of a sudden.

"Steve! Down!"

The words made it out at the same time as he leaped to tackle Steve to the ground, and the same time that woman shot out. He felt the bullet go right through him and a sudden calm came over him, washing like a wave before the pain, a knowledge that he wasn't going to survive this one. He could already feel himself bleeding out and the damage to his internal organs, but he desperately still tried to get Steve in a safe position.

Shots fired had everyone on board the skiff worried, and though Tony was really against letting Steve and Bucky go alone every time, he managed not to say he told anyone so as he struggled into his armor. It worked. Sort of. He could not fly in it but he could move and shoot and be protected. He was the one that found the soldiers in a pile, Steve holding his shield over Bucky's back and Tony rolled his eyes unseen in the helmet. He could make such a joke now!

Instead, he used his repulsor blast to knock down the barn and trap the people who had been shooting at them in the rubble. That was enough time for Steve to shoulder the shield and scoop Bucky up. He took off running, covered in blood that was not his own back to the skiff while Stark covered their retreat.

"Doctor Banner!"

Bruce was already clearing a path to the little room he had commandeered as a medical zone. There were already two people in there; one little girl who had a head wound, though she should be fine in a few days, and one middle aged man who had broken his leg the day before the skiff arrived.

"In here, lay him down. Everyone else out except Tony, I need you to assist. That means you as well, Captain, I'm sorry."

Bucky, nearly unconscious already, tightened the fingers of his metal hand around Steve's bicep as if he knew that the other man was being sent away, lips moving in a silent murmur of his name.

"Wait what? Assist? With-- Banner, I think you've got the wrong guy--" But he was already getting out of his armor, already moving to scrub up, or get gauze or anything else Bruce needed. That did not mean that he caught Steve's reaction, grabbing at Bucky as those fingers curled around his arm.

The blond leaned over the other man, gloved fingers on his cheek as he leaned over him. "I'm gonna be right outside, Buck. Right outside. I'm not leaving, just clearing space for the doctor," he said, voice steady though with the amount of blood he was covered in, he knew that there was a good chance that Bucky was never opening his eyes again.

Without caring who saw, the Captain kissed his best friend for a fericely passionate moment before he pulled away and removed the fingers from his arm.

"You save him," he said, as if he could order Bruce to do such a thing or as if he wasn't already going to attempt to do it already.

Tony had to be jolted out of that sight, eyes wide and unblinking, to come back down to reality. "Did I just dream that?" he asked Bruce as he helped to cut Bucky's clothes away. "I've almost died a lot of times and no ones kissed me like that."

Bucky almost wished that Steve hadn't kissed him, because it had tasted of blood and salt, and if he died then it would be the kiss that Steve remembered, when he'd rather that the kisses he remembered would be the passionate and breathless ones stolen in the corridors before their next duty called them away from each other.

But he couldn't say it because Steve was already gone, and Bucky couldn't seem to make his tongue work. He just gave the tiniest of whimpers as they began to cut his clothes off him and then sank into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

Though the kiss had surprised Bruce too, he really didn't have time to talk about it considering how fast Bucky was fading. Only the serum had likely kept him alive long enough to reach the skiff, but it wasn't a miracle cure-all, and he wasn't a proper surgeon. "Help me with this well enough, and I'll find someone to kiss you like that. We're going to have to go in rough and hard, not ideal, but we have to stop the bleeding. I need you to focus the repulsor on your armour into a thin and hot beam, lower power, we have to cauterise the areas where his organs are ruptured to stand any chance."

"That sounds like a proposition," Tony teased, already slipping into his left glove. It would leave his more dexterous right hand free to do the calibrations, and while J would have really been helpful right now, a screwdriver could do the trick as well. He pumped and primed the blast, narrowed down to a millimeter, and made a test shot at the shield Steve left behind before he grabbed his helmet and scanned the site.

It was probably one of his finest moments, Tony thought, lining up shots, firing, and moving aside for Bruce to remove a bullet or tie off s wound. They repeated the process twelve times before Tony pulled off the helmet and removed the gauntlet to roll up his sleeve.

"I'm O negative," he said simply. He was a universal donor, a lucky thing for a man with antibodies and a super soldier serum running through his body. "It's either this or you pump him full of saline to keep his heart working. I'm going to think blood is the better option, Banner."

The serum was an absolutely amazing thing; without it, Bucky surely would have died several times during this hotch-potch surgery, let alone still have a chance to pull through this. Though god only knew what sort of pain the poor bastard would be in when he opened his eyes again.

"Good."

He doesn't bother asking twice if Tony is sure that he wants to donate blood, not when they need it this badly.

"I'll set up the tubing for a direct transfusion, run to the kitchens and get orange juice and something sugary, you'll need them both."

"See. And you said my piracy of citrus would be a waste," Tony teased before heading to the kitchen and literally tripping over Rogers. "Jesus, Cap. My precious blood. I need that to give to Barnes and here you are trying to make me spill it all over the floor."

When Steve looked up, Tony was almost taken aback by how bad he was taking this. How many times had Bucky almost died on Steve? The answer was far too many. He looked so young sitting there, face blotchy and wet from tears.

"He's going to be all right," Tony promised. "Banner's an amazing surgeon for not having a medical license. Get me some orange juice and some candy." Well, it was better to give Steve a task and why do something himself when he could just have Steve do it? "We can wait for him to wake up together."

When Bruce looked up at Tony's quick return, the engineer just shrugged. "It's called delegation."

The little medical room looks awful, and Bucky doesn't look much better, but it's deceptive. There might be blood everywhere, and Bucky himself is swaddled from just under his nipples to just above his bellybutton in bandages, but it's so much better than it could have been. He's already got a chair set up beside Tony and a length of tubing, as well as two syringes.

"This won't be the most comfortable way to donate blood, I'm afraid, but we don't have the proper equipment. Get yourself comfortable and roll up your sleeve."

He glanced up when Steve entered, all puffy eyed and looking as though his very heart was laid out on that operating table.

"Thank you, Captain, you can put the supplies near Tony. Bucky should live, though that's mostly thanks to Tony's contribution now, he offered to give blood."

Speaking of which, he slid the first needle into Bucky's vein and got the tubing set up, before finding the right spot on Tony's arm to go into.

Steve couldn't take this. His heart couldn't take it. He'd spent half of his life wanting and never thinking he could have Bucky, and then long stretches of time mourning the loss of his friend before the impossible happened. Maybe this was God telling him that he deserved this for every half breathless kiss he and Bucky had shared the last few days. This was a warning. This was his fault. He should have said no, turned Bucky away...

But how could he believe that God would be so cruel? Love was love. He believed that whole heartedly. This wasn't punishment. This Bucky proving how much he loved him by taking those bullets.

And so he took Bucky's hand as Tony pumped his own hand to force his blood to flow more easily through the tube. He kept his back to the two, eyes down cast, following Bruce as he cleaned up to give the pair a little privacy.

He leaned over it and murmured prayers against metal knuckles.

This wouldn't be the end. This wasn't the end of the line.

"We have our whole lives, Buck. You're not leaving me yet," he whispered.

Tony cleared his throat.

"So should I give you my criteria about who I wanna be kissed by, Banner? Or do I get a surprise?"

It was achingly heartbreaking to see how broken Steve was over this. Bruce knew the two men were close, he had observed it the last couple of days and he had also learned about it in class, but to see this extent of it... well, it was obvious that Tony's inclinations had been right and there was a much deeper affection there than just between two friends.

"You can try and give me your criteria, but I can't promise to adhere to it all."

His tone was dry, but that was just his sense of humour. Perhaps it was kinder to indulge Tony while this went on, and leave Steve to his nearly silent prayers. They seemed far too intimate for just anyone to observe.

"I get the feeling they'll be mostly unattainable, but try me."

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