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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The truth was that Tony didn't really want that sort of affection right now, but he could fake it. "Blonde, leggy. I'm actually not that picky. I'll take a nine or a ten. Maybe an eight if there's a personality there." He rocked back to grab his juice so he didn't get too dizzy too quickly. "But maybe we should discuss out next move instead. We have almost two hundred on board. We can handle a few thousand. Canada might be the best bet. There are whole cities still left up there."

Steve was being incredibly distracting but it wasn't as if Tony could yell at him to shut up. Tony didn't like being faced with this sort of emotion. Sure. He liked being right but he also hated being right too when it was like this.

Bucky would be fine. Steve would get his fairy tale ending, his Prince Charming would wake up and they could carry on their existence together. Wonderful.

It wasn't that Tony was jealous so much as hurting.

Everything hurt him.

Bruce didn't know about all that had happened to Tony, though he could imagine that everyone who had been taken had hardly had the best or most relaxing time before they escaped, and so it didn't seem strange to him that Tony would still joke about leggy blondes.

He wasn't jealous or hurting over Steve, it actually made him smile a bit. He enjoyed seeing happiness in the world, especially when things were so dire that it seemed like most of the happiness had gone.

"You won't be going down into Canada, Tony, you'll need to rest when this is done and recover. Bed rest, in this medical bay, for at least eight hours. Do you hear me?"

"I think this is the part where I'm supposed to protest. A lot. But I don't really want to go to Canada anyway. Never my favorite place. I don't understand the continued existence of Canada when there's America." He was mostly just talking to talk, because listening to Steve Rogers half whisper to Bucky was grating.

It was like being back in that cage, waiting for someone to come and get him to drink more of that nympho-alcohol. All Steve did was talk to Bucky, who never answered. Not even after he supposedly helped Steve escape the same fate as Clint and Tony had been subjected to.

It made him rub his forehead until he finally turned to the blond and venomously growled for him to just shut the fuck up, for once, "just let there be some god damned silence. I'm trying to give him blood so you two can ride off into the sunset together but if I have to hear your fucking voice, Rogers, I'm going to live with the bandits and become their king for the change to shoot him again!"

Steve looked up, red rimmed eyes confused. Banner would probably think he was crazy too now. But it couldn't be helped.

Bruce certainly looked as if he were taken aback, but there were some explanations he could think of. Perhaps Tony really didn't like Steve, maybe he was secretly slightly homophobic and it made him uncomfortable to see affection this deep between two men, maybe he had feelings for one or the other and this was just rubbing salt in the wound, or maybe it was just that giving blood was making him more uncomfortable than usual.

"Alright, Tony, have some orange juice," suggested Bruce in a calm and yet firm sort of voice, pressing one of the juice boxes into Tony's hand.

Not that the silence would last for long, as Bucky chose that moment to groan his way back into the land of the living. It was amazing really, he should still be near death and at least unconscious for days, but the serum was assimilating Tony's blood rapidly and already gave him the strength to wake. Though he could barely do more than groggily open his eyes.

"...m'not dead?"

Steve didn't read too much into what Tony's issue was. He didn't want to fight with a guy who had actively and was currently assisting with Bucky's recovery. The man said things to upset Bucky in the past but the two of them also spoke often and amicably and Steve thought that they were friends.

He was about to say that he was sorry, about to quiet down, but that was until Bucky spoke himself. Nothing else mattered.

He might have whimpered a little bit like he did when Bucky fell off of the boardwalk and onto the sand when he tried to walk the railing and ended up almost two stories below. That whimper might have been fear as their friends abandoned them, but this one was as if angles had just entered the room and confirmed the existence of God for all the non-believers.

"Not dead, though you did try real hard this time," Steve laughed, hand tightening around Bucky's. "You're such an idiot. You're not bulletproof!"

Bucky could feel an odd tugging sensation in his right arm, the tubing that ran between Tony and himself, but he couldn't lift it up enough to figure out where it was coming from. It didn't matter anyway, because that bloody kiss wouldn't be the last one they shared, and that was enough to have him actually smiling - probably for the first time in front of anyone that wasn't just Steve.

"Shit, really?"

He hummed something that might have been a laugh, but only came out as a pained groan where the make-shift cauterisation inside him hurt deeply.

"And I thought I was-- my mistake."

"And for the record, you can't fly or breathe underwater either," Steve teased back, laughing with a hint of liquid to his eyes. He wasn't going to cry again, not in front of Bucky, so it was just back to business as usual. Even if he did lay a hand over the bandage, trying to apply pressure to the pain. "You're a little bit like Swiss cheese right now so you have to take it easy. Take a nap, you have permission from a superior officer to be a lazy jerk today."

Tony had had enough. "Get this out of me. He's awake. He's fine." He was acting like a spoiled brat, but Steve didn't say a word about that. If Bucky was not only awake but cognizant, he would recover. And recover quickly thanks to the serum.

"It's all right, Doctor Banner," he started to say before Tony yanked the tube from his arm with a curse, tried to stand up, and kissed the floor instead.

Bucky hadn't been awake for most of Tony's childish display and so it took him by surprise when the man suddenly pulled the tubing out and then fell face first onto the floor. "Hey--- what?" Startled, he tried to sit up and see what was happening, only to fail spectacularly and have to close his eyes for a moment against the white hot pain.

Bruce was the one that made it to Tony's side and helped him up, shooting a look over his shoulder at Steve to warn him not to say anything. For some reason it was Steve that aggravated the issues and it would be better if this were left solely to Bruce to handle. Not that he was an expert in Tony Stark, but the man did seem to trust him for some reason.

"Steve, you stay with Bucky, try and get some water in him if you can. Tony, okay just lean on me. You're going to be lightheaded after donating blood so maybe don't try that again."

He steered Tony out of the room as he was talking and into the next little room to get him sat down.

"Okay, how about you tell me what all of that was about?"

The sudden flashbacks were intense. Tony tried to pull himself out of Bruce's grip, but he could barely walk without holding on already and the walls were too smooth to really keep himself up with. His whole body ached, that was mostly due to the sudden lack of blood he currently possessed, but as weak and dizzy as he was, Tony still stubbornly pushed on.

He could feel his heart racing though, thumping wildly against his rib cage as if it was trying to break free. That wasn't helping matters either.

"Every day," Tony grunted as Bruce guided him not to torture but to safety, "for months, I listened to Rogers whisper at Barnes. I know more about their lives together than my own life. It never stopped. There were always whispers. And then you would come and take me away for a little while."

And that was no relief either. Nothing was a relief from those long months.

"I can't-- Banner, I'm having trouble breathing-- I think I'm having a stroke."

"You're not having a stroke."

Bruce's voice was calm and soothing only through instinct, because the rest of him was reeling about what Tony had said. Obviously he had suffered a great trauma, and it made him feel a bit sick to know that the other him had been very clearly implicated in that trauma.

"You're having a panic attack, Steve talking to Bucky like that must have triggered it. It's okay, it's normal, you're not going to die. You just need to breathe, follow me, in for a count of four nice and slow."

Once Bruce had got Tony sat down, he deliberately backed up a few steps to keep from aggravating this further, though his voice remained a constant, just instructing Tony on how to breathe.

Leaning forward, Tony put his head in his hands and repeated to himself what Bruce said. A panic attack. Now, of all times. Why hadn't he been having panic attacks for the months he suffered abuse? Why now, all of a sudden? Of all times?

It took some time to calm down and the intense dizziness to fade. People passed in the halls, but Tony moved his hand to pantomime that Bruce should shut the door and once they were alone and in silence, he hunched back against the seat.

"For the record, that was not a panic attack. I'm just a massive jerk and hate to see affection. That's all." He didn't want his reputation tarnished after all!

Bruce gave Tony as much time as he needed to calm down from his panic attack, making sure there was a glass of water by his side for when he could sip again without spilling it or choking.

"There's no shame in having a panic attack, delayed reactions to traumas can often cause surprise panic attacks until you learn your triggers."

It was all said kindly, he wasn't going to let Tony bullshit him about this. Obviously he needed help and, as a friend, that help was his to give.

"You feeling a little steadier now?"

"I'm fine," Tony promised with the aid of someone who might never be fine again. He took a long drink to prove it, hands shaking, and set the glass aside agsin, half empty, a drip running down the side. "And I'm going to continue to be fine. I'll just stay away from them, no triggers, no issues. Right?"

Nothing was ever as simple as Tony wished it was. He had work to do at least, armor to perfect and if Bucky was going to be down and out for awhile, he was going to make it a point of helping out to get their people back to the skiff.

Which brought up another small trigger that he wasn't sure what to do with. Going back to the training moon-- there would be a lot of pregnant women that didn't want to be pregnant. There was going to be a lot of trauma of destroyed families to deal with.

Tony hadn't quite gotten himself to understand all of the implications just yet, but it was going to be bad no matter what happened.

"Thanks doc. You don't have to stay with me. I just need a nap."

Obviously Tony wasn't fine and a large portion of the population they rescued wouldn't be fine too if they had been in captivity or even the ones on Earth that had lived through the end of the world. It unfortunately meant that nobody could afford to be coddled, not with everyone in the same boat, and most people would just have to find ways to cope by leaning on the small pocket of friends available.

But maybe there would be good to come from this. People who had lived through a nuclear war, or been slaves, would be unlikely to ever want to perpetuate those sorts of crimes again, so they might be able to steer humanity in a better direction.

Bruce sighed and instead took a seat on one of the other chairs, hands resting lightly on his knees.

"You're not fine, and it's not as easy as avoiding the Captain or Bucky. You can't bury your head in the sand and pretend."

"You really wouldn't believe how often you can bury your head in the sand and it works out all right." Give or take. Tony didn't really get into the poverty or the war torn cultures he had seen first hand. Most of them buried their heads in the sand for the worse though. Nothing changed. Their horrible lives stayed horrible. But there was always a new generation to pick up the choice and carry on with new and potentially worse struggles.

Tony sighed and glanced down at his hands. His palms seemed so worn and so stained with inability to do anything.

"I don't want to talk about it. And I know that's what you're getting at, Banner. You can talk to Barton. Or Cap. But he had it pretty damned easy."

"You've been through some shit, that doesn't give you the right to demean what anyone else has been through. All experiences are different, and you shouldn't judge what you don't know."

Maybe Steve had had it easier on the moon, but that didn't mean he didn't have traumas buried deep down, it didn't mean things might not have got to him whenever he hadn't been in Tony's line of sight. Bruce wanted to help, but he didn't agree with taking comfort at the cost of someone else.

"You're going to need some support, but I'm not going to force you. Find me when you want me."

Unless Tony stopped him, he would take his leave then and slip away.

Tony didn't want Bruce to go. He didn't want to be alone... But he had too much pride to call him back, to sit down with him and whisper about all of the atrocities he faced. He just couldn't. Tony's heart sank as Bruce closed the door behind him, but the scientist wasn't a mind reader. How could he know what Tony needed?

The engineer would eventually lay down on a cot, curl up, and sleep. At least it was dreamless.

As Bruce was headed back from the room, he would find himself walking in step with that slim Indian man who had introduced himself as Dr. Suresh from his initial extraction time.

"Doctor Banner? We all heard quite the commotion. Is everything all right?"

Bruce was worried about Tony, but he was also worried about Bucky and Steve and Clint and literally everyone else they've picked up. Humanity has had a rough time of it lately and he feared that it could go either direction - into community and healing, or into people being too fractured to cope and everything falling apart - and there was nothing he could do to help it.

His smile when Mohinder fell into step beside him was thin and slightly harried. He didn't want to be rude, and it was good that someone else was willing to be concerned, but chatting wasn't top of his priority list right then.

"Yes, fine, thank you. Tony had just never given blood before and wasn't expecting the sensations when he stood up."

That, at least, was nominally true and protected Tony's pride for a while.

"Is everyone settled in?"

"As well as can be expected, yes," Mohinder said, an ease to his step. One would think with the strangeness his life had been, he would be better prepared for each new thing that came to pass. It still shook him, but he had an uncanny ability to let things roll off of his back. That, and his work with DNA and SHIELD sponsored work with the serum where Bruce had left off made him an excellent agent in his own right. "The children are doing better than their parents. Most of the women have chosen to stay in the long dormatories, a few of the teenagers without parents are in the lowest deck. I've been trying to keep my eye on them. A coed crowd of parent less teenagers could give us a few issues in the year ahead."

He was terribly jovial about all of this, hands in his pockets, smile even.

"But I was wondering if I could assist you? I've been enamored by your work for a long while and I have a strong background in sampling biological material. I understand you've been working on a way to ensure the health of those exposed to radiation?"

Bruce looked surprised, though he was fairly well known in the scientific community that was still quite a niche and he hadn't expected any of the survivors to know his name, let alone have studied and appreciated his work. Wary, but flattered, he took off his glasses to polish them in order to have something to do while he thought about his answer.

"Of course I'd welcome any assistance in that area, but it's not likely to be something that can be started until we get back to the new moon. Research like that has to take a back seat to just getting everyone on board and safely transported. Right now, our only jobs have to be taking care of the people aboard."

He hoped that was diplomatic enough.

"Though we can certainly discuss it again when we are more settled."

"I hope this doesn't come across as rude, but I need something to do, Doctor Banner. We all do. That's the biggest problem right now. There is very little communication going on and that means that we are stuck waiting and wondering. How many more places will shoot at us? Is Sargeant Barnes all right? There is mostly whispering down below. And still some distrust over Captain Rogers."

Mohinder wet his lips as he tried to be more gracious to one of the men who had come to rescue them.

"Please put me to work. Alone, I am working through nothing but survivor's guilt from the hellicarrier. Watching them snatch the men and women I worked with for years out of the air as we parachuted out... I can help in your clinic. I know my way around a medical station well enough."

Bruce could understand wanting to be useful, it was why he had gone to India to help rather than disappear off the face of the earth completely back when he had been forced to flee America. He thought for a moment before gesturing Mohinder to follow him into one of the small kitchen room and grab a chair.

"It's a good idea. In fact, I think everyone needs to get to work. We can work out a list of jobs that need doing between us, and then go down to the dorms and get people assigned into small units that will work together and support one another. Almost like faux family units."

He pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

"So... medical, food distribution and preparation, childcare, cleaning, technicians?"

"I'll find out what everyone used to do or is good at doing then," Mohinder nodded. "And it might be helpful to show everyone what the planet looks like that we're going to and-" Mohinder had to stop and laugh. "You have no idea who I am. I don't blame you. Once agent Romanoff took over, it would have been difficult to remember anyone."

Mohinder stopped just outside of the medical bay, where Steve and Bucky were still laughing softly to each other, holding hands like an old married couple.

He'd never had friends like that. He'd never had friends actually. It was still nice to see.

"You and I worked together in Calcutta for three days before Agent Romanoff took over."

This was good, they could both help people on board find a new purpose and simultaneously make sure that the ship was being looked after properly. He was fired with enthusiasm, writing down various roles and only looking up when Mohinder laughingly told him that they should already know each other.

"Oh."

For some reason that made him feel ashamed, as if he should have paid more attention and not rudely forgot someone he had met for only three days.

"Sorry, everything was a little insane back then and it passed in a blur, you'll have to forgive me. I won't forget again."

"I can imagine that there won't be quite so many people left to forget," Mohinder said evenly. "And with India completely destroyed..." There wasn't the alarm in his voice that others might have. There wasn't even sadness. Mohinder tended to accept and to move on. "From what I've gathered, the Asgardians took people from all over the world, however. Perhaps there may be a few of my countrymen left after all. But it's fine, Doctor. You were working on barely no sleep during a disentery outbreak in the city slums when we last met. I'm sure you worked with quite a lot of people that looked a bit like me."

He was used to a little institutionalized racism anyway. Cambridge was filled with it.

"Let me leave you to your duties now that I have a few of my own. A pleasure to be working with you again, Doctor." His handshake was friendly and affectionate. Mohinder would be a strange one to get used to, though no stranger than Tony Stark.

Inside the medical bay, Steve kept trying to convince Bucky to sleep. "You're Swiss cheese. That earns you a break."

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