fossilised | Jotunheimr

Jotunheimr

Thor Odinson was not ready to be King.

That much had become suddenly and sharply clear to Odin All-Father, a sharp pain that he would rather not have had. He had been blinded too long by love for his only heir, seeing only his affable way of gaining friends and his strength on the battlefield, but ignoring how he had become spoiled and arrogant. He had glossed over the reports from Thor's tutors that his son had not studied the other realms or the duties of a King as he should, and had instead spent much of his youth carousing with his favoured companions, hunting or getting into trouble together.

But this... this was beyond a childish scrape.

Egged on by his friends, or so it had come out since the act, Thor had decided to go to Jotunheim - a forbidden act - for the sole purpose of finding one of its inhabitants and slaying it. A proof of his mettle as a warrior, to kill one of the fearsome giants, the monsters of the icy realm. He felt ashamed, sick at heart that his only son could be so ignorant as to think that any race were just monsters. He might have hoped these were just rantings, but he saw preparations begin to take place and he knew that they meant to commit treason by disobeying his orders of no contact with Jotunheim and perhaps start another war.

Arrangements were hastily made, pushed through Frigga who had more goodwill remaining to her among the Giants, and when Thor arrived at the Bifrost, he would find Odin standing by the great sword rather than Heimdall, his one eye forbidding.

"Why are you so eager to seek out war, my son?"

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"The Eye, as you call it, made this choice without outside influence," Loki attested, turning from his confabulation with Thor, as the larger man threw the bird into the air and watched as it disappeared into the sky. The message would get through to Frigga, he had no doubt about that. "We must keep it contained until help arrives."

Except that would be too late coming, and Loki, accomplished sorcerer that he was, couldn't stand up to the power of an infinity stone. A crack from within the shield sounded and, though nothing seemed to have changed yet, ripples were spreading through time in both directions.

"Come," Loki murmured. "We can do little here before the All-Mother arrives. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, you ought to return to your lives, we can call for you when we require your company again."

It’s not like they had a choice and though Tony immediately protested being left out of cool things, a touch was all it took to send him and Steve back to the Tower.

That left Thor with the second guardian of the Infinity Stone, though he was much more willing to let Loki and Thor deal with it then Strange had been. The largest of the three turned towards the Asian human and set a hand to his broad shoulder.

“I am sorry for the loss of your friend. In a way, he died in battle and I believe he resides now in Valhalla.” It was the nicest thing he could think to say to an accidentally disintegrated pile of ash

Whatever shield these human sorcerers could create to separate reality from a pocket dimension was immediately smashed as the Bifrost carrying the All-Mother shattered it. It wasn’t often that Frigga traveled alone, however, and so this matter had to be very grave.

“You did well to call me,” she told Loki after touching her son on the elbow in passing. A wave of her hand dismissed Loki’s spell and she crouched to fetch the Eye from the dust. It showed her no harm and she smiled, immediately understanding what had happened. The amulet was tucked into her gown as she stood again. “Let us all return to Asgard,” she said and lightly touched Loki’s face, letting the blue bleed through the pink of his current countenance. Another spell. One to guard him from the sickness he’d felt last time in the warm Realm Eternal.

Loki was more grateful than he would ever show for being allowed to keep his form, his true form, and not suffer the effects of the Asgardian heat. He did not understand how anyone could stand in this sun and not feel as though they were a piece of fish on the fire for cooking.

Give him the ice and snow any day.

Though Asgard was beautiful, and it was rich, he would learn to love it as dearly as he loved Jotunheim when he resided here as All-Mother. He would find a way to make it work as both All-Mother and Loki-King, an ambition he had not yet given up on. To this end, he stood back fairly obediently when Frigga took the Eye and transported them all to the Realm Eternal.

Back down on Earth, Tony would at least find that all of his excitement had not completely finished. The mysterious man with the advanced arm who had vanished before, returned despite all the odds, breaking in once again to stand at the foot of his bed as he slept... which isn't at all creepy.

Tony hadn’t slept in just over 36 hours so when he finally did get to sleep, it was a rough one. Alone in the Tower, he didn’t have Pepper there to shake him awake and Steve was off making charcoal pictures on the sidewalk of some café. Not that Tony had checked on him or anything, but before falling face first into bed, okay yes, he had checked.

The presence looming over him was enough to stir him to wakefulness full and he jumped out of bed in a huff, foot wrapped in the blankets, and fell in a heap. His shoulder exploded in pain and he groaned.

“I knew it. You really are trying to kill me,” he complained, rolling onto his back but otherwise not moving.

Even though Stark rose up suddenly and then fell in an ungraceful heap, the man who stood watching him didn't move. No-- not just the 'man', he had decided on a name for himself now. He would try and reclaim James, at least for now.

"If I were trying to kill you, you'd be dead."

In contrast to the last time he was here, when his words had been mostly Brooklyn accented, this time he had a strong Russian twang to his voice, not that he seemed to notice.

"The coolant is still damaged, and now other systems have become damaged."

“No one asked you to be a smart ass.” Tony wasn’t sure what to make of the accent change, and yes, actually, he did notice it. He had a lot of dealings with Russians and he happened to speak it fluently, like he did so many languages he needed to do business in. The guy was a genius as well as a polyglot and so picking out the language spoken from all of the other languages that shared common roots with Russian was easy. Just to see what would happen, he decided to switch to that particular language. “Didn’t I tell you that it was a bad idea to wait?”

If the systems are failing this quickly, there probably was a leak somewhere and that meant he really had to get into that arm. He had no idea where it might connect to the rest of the man’s body, not until he did some proper scanning, but Mr. Cyborg was more skittish than an abused cat.

He needed to be firm here.

“Come on down the lab.”

James switched over to Russian just as seamlessly, perhaps moreso, because it seemed as though he spoke it as fluently as a native and, if Tony were really that good, he might recognise a Siberian accent to it.

"You're the son of Howard Stark," he said, apparently incongruous to the conversation at large, though he did obey and follow the smaller man down towards the lab without further complaint.

"I saw photographs of him, you look sort of similar."

He had been at the Smithsonian museum just a few days ago, drawn there for answers that were only just starting to come to him.

Hey, hey, hey. Tony’s a genius, maybe the smartest guy in the world, or close to it, but he’s not good enough with the thousands of Russian dialects that there are. Siberia isn’t known to be a capital of industry either.

“Thanks for reminding me about dad. Don’t hold it against me,” Tony said as he rubbed the sleep from his eye and rotated his shoulder around. Ow. No really. That had hurt. He snagged coffee on the way, brewed by JARVIS who was always just so good to him, and didn’t bother to offer anything to Bucky.

This might involve surgery.

And you shouldn’t have anything in your stomach if that’s the case. ”He’s dead, by the way, so if you were hoping for an autograph, you’re about twenty years too late.”

"I know, I read about him at the museum."

He doesn't bother to say which museum, though there are exhibitions and small plaques to Howard Stark at a number of museums dedicated to science and technology. His mention in the Smithsonian is actually his smallest plaque, just a footnote of Captain America's much bigger story.

"He was a jerk."

Wait.

Why did he say that? It just sort of slipped out, like he knew first hand.

Tony snorted. “Yeah. He really was” That always came across in the articles, though Tony tried not to badmouth the guy that started the dynasty too much to the media. It was really no big secret how Howard Stark was an asshole womanizer, though. People just tended to ignore that in favor of his genius and the contributions he made to the world.

Was it right? No. But they tended to do the same to Tony. At least he’d settled down now. And was faithful.

“Have a seat. You’re going to have to help me out here with the compartments. I don’t want to go yanking at your nervous system again,” he muttered. He was much too self absorbed to realize what it was Bucky said.

James took a seat where he was told to-- or... he sat down for a brief half second and then stood again, before slumping down to sit on the floor instead. He was slowly beginning to learn his limits, and being worked on in a chair was one that would likely end in a world of pain for Stark.

"You can do it down here. And I can't help you, I don't understand how it works or how it's put together."

That hadn't been considered essential knowledge for the Soldier, he had just been required to lie still and obedient while others worked on him.

“Awesome. Okay. So I need verbal consent that if I accidentally kill you, I’m not at fault.” He wasn’t sure if the classic Good Samaritan Law applied here considering he was working on a crazy guy with a metal arm and too much ability to somehow break into his home.

He pulled up on the legs of his pants and the crouched to take a look at the things he might need. Gloves, obviously. Forceps. The usual toolkit—

He pulled up the scans JARVIS had already taken and compared them with the scans from the last time Mr. Cyborg came to visit. It wasn’t good.

“If I hit something vital, scream.”

Luckily for Tony, there wasn't any records of this man being alive at all and so nobody would come after him if he got killed doing this, nor would James be entirely too sad if he ended up dead.

His accent and language suddenly took a shift back to American, the twang of Brooklyn overlaid onto his words.

"I don't scream, and you're gonna hit vital things, that's how it's all connected. I'm sure you're as good an engineer as your old man, but do you have to talk as much?"

“Do you think you can stick to one accent?” Tony was already pulling on some gloves, red ones because he was an egoist, but he had to really put the kibosh on the talk about his father. “Dad still takes me to school sometimes but I gotta tell you, I’m pretty much the big cheese of the tech world. Guessing that’s why you’re here.” He didn’t mention that whoever made Bucky’s arm obviously was some sort of genius themselves. Crazy. Horrible. But a genius just the same. “I just—“

Wait.

“As much? Oh ha ha. You’re going to tell me that dad didn’t have enough love children so he decided to cut some guy up and attach some metal to him? Listen. That all goes through legal. You want some sort of payout, you talk to them.”

Tony pulled his tools over less gently and plopped down on the floor to get to start working. He was not too thrilled to say the least.

Did Howard Stark do this?

Hard to tell, he did remember Stark, but he didn't remember whether those times were from before or after the Soldier, his memories were fragmented a lot of the time and it was easy to get confused. It didn't matter even if it had been Howard Stark, all research he had done said that Tony Stark wasn't HYDRA.

"I don't want any payout, I just want this fixing."

The idea of him getting reparations was almost funny in a bitter sort of way.

A quiet chime from the ceiling was JARVIS' covert way of saying that he had some information that might be of interest. He had, of course, been running facial recognition and scan recognition against all databanks he could access, legal and illegal.

Tony was quiet, not because he was asked to be, but because concentration had gotten the better of him. Sassy as he could often be while working, this was a challenge. He was working on robotics that likely had a connection to nerves and that meant that anything he shifted or even just touched could cause pain. And he was worried about that, or rather, he wasn’t sure if he could keep going if the patient happened to find this process to be intense enough to consistently remind him that he was engineering on a living human being.

He was almost glad for the distracting ping, and he poked at the display screen hovering between himself and Bucky to pull up the alert. He was expecting word of another mechanism failure, but not a profile recognition match of a guy that ought to be dead.

Tony shifted from sitting on his heels to sitting cross legged on the ground, huffing slightly. “So you served when my dad was effectively draft dodging, huh?”

Steve was going to freak out.

James frowned as he saw the alert come up between them and saw his own profile on the screen, wearing a uniform in a black and white still. He was unmistakably the same man, or else a clone based on the facial structure, but he scowled instead of mimicking the easy smile of Sergeant Barnes in the picture.

"That man died in the 1940s."

Does he look like he's nearly a hundred?

"Your computer is broken."

“Wow, take that back,” Tony grunted. “JARVIS can’t help what he is. But he’s absolutely not broken.” He dismissed the screen as if the information didn’t concern him. Right now, it didn’t. He gave James Barnes a little shove to lay back down so he could work on the inside of his arm.

It was going to take a lot of concentration just to untangle the mess of fused wires and parts here, and he could deal with the ramifications of what this whole thing meant later.

Hopefully before Steve Rogers decided to drop by for his every-other-day attempt to get Tony to stop pouring his entire self into his work. Or to discuss the Loki and Thor problem. Or with information on why Captain America and Iron Man needed to go out and beat up some baddies.

JARVIS himself didn't interrupt because he knew that his master was concentrating, but he also felt offended at the accusation that he would be broken. He had done a lot of cross referencing and the nearest picture was that of James Barnes, it was him or a direct descendent with a 98% probability.

James, however, looked less impressed as he moved to go back down and let Stark keep working on his arm. The arm was living proof that if someone stopped caring about the comfort and wellbeing of their patient, that the achievements they could push through were astronomical.

"I'm hungry."

It came out quietly after another two hours of silent work, almost as if he were surprised that he needed to voice something like that.

“What?” Tony didn’t usually take breaks to eat. The things he worked on never needed to eat either. He’d actually forgotten that there was a living person under his hands and that made him sit back and stretch. “Oh. Yeah. Pizza from the usual place, J.”

He took the time to get up and walk around so that the blood went back to his legs again.

“I think we can skip having Rogers deliver. Just send one of the Legion.” It was pretty obvious to him that Bucky and Steve would have some words. And none of those words would end well. “Extra cheese and pepperoni work for you? Get five pies.”

Steve could eat three in a sitting. He assumed Bucky probably could too.

It was interesting that Tony would just assume that Bucky was somehow like Steve, when such a huge part of the history of the world following the war was that there were no other super soldiers, no other serum out there. Hell, that was the reason that a man called Bruce became big and green now.

James stood up once Tony had retreated from him to order the pizza, rolling his shoulder experimentally even though there was still exposed wiring from where Tony hadn't finished working yet.

"I don't have anything to pay you with."

For the work or the pies.

Weirdly, Tony was a fairly logical human being. He so happened to be eccentric too, but physics and mechanics still managed to ground him enough to follow the principal that simplest explanation was probably correct. Was it possible for someone to have a copy of the formula that made Steve into Cap? Sure. The creator fled Germany with it. But maybe they could develop the same thing or something similar. There’s also no such thing as an invention being created once. That’s why there are pyramids all over the world. Not because the people spoke to each other, but because congruent technological evolution was a reality.

Tony would have shrugged off anyone actually questioning his thoughts on Bucky. Until his theory was disproven, it was what he was sticking with.

“No one asked you to pay me. Been awhile since I’ve had a challenge. That’s payment enough. Don’t pick at your scabs, jeez. Sit down or you’ll mess me up.”

"You're a weird guy."

That was actually more compliment than insult. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn't seem to want what everyone else wanted, and it was actually kind of comforting that Stark only seemed to see him as the challenge of his arm. It was a midway point between being seen as human, and still being seen as an object, and that was sadly more comfortable now than being fully one or the other.

"I'm surprised you're still alive, if this is how you deal with people breaking in."

“You would be surprised, lately, how many people break in,” Tony replied with a shrug as if it didn’t matter. “But you’re right. JARVIS, move intruder death ray to the top of my priority list.”

“As previously stated, Sir, you’re not capable of keeping any semblance of s priority list,” JARVIS shot back and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Not even my own kids respect me,” he said to Bucky, snapping his fingers at the man to get him to sit back down. “We have twenty minutes at least. Let me finish up the hardware removal and— It’s going to disable motor function in your arm below the elbow so don’t freak out on me.”

He really hoped that he wouldn't freak out, but he hadn't been in a lot of situations like this yet and he wasn't sure just what might set him off. Stark had been good to him so far, helping him without asking for payment and not treating him in a cruel or dismissive manner, he didn't want to repay that by harming him.

"It might be better to restrain me while you work."

Assuming that Stark had anything that would restrain him effectively.

"I don't want to hurt you."

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