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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“Actually, you said that I don’t want to know and not to ask you,” Tony pressed. It didn’t matter anyway. Either Bucky told him or he went looking himself. When his mind was on something, fully, he didn’t let himself be easily deterred.

It was little wonder that just about everyone found him insufferable really, for that reason alone.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

“She is dead. So anyone that knows anything about her is important to me. Finding out everything about her is important to me,” Tony stressed.

"And what if those things aren't good things?"

It wasn't hard to see that Stark idolised his mother, it was evident in the way his expressive dark eyes were shining with determination. That was the look of someone who had deified a dead woman in his mind, and James didn't want to be the one to destroy that.

"You should just hold onto what you already have, don't go looking for trouble."

“Now you sound like my mom,” Stark snapped and then threw his hands up. “You’re trying to psyche me out for absolutely no reason,” he complained. “I didn’t hurt you and if you don’t want to be fixed, cool. I’ve got other work to do.”

Like digging into this. His mother’s past was strange to him. He knew she was a scientist, that she traveled with his father, but Tony spent much of his youth isolated from his family. He had absolutely no way at all of knowing what had gone on with his mother and father since most of it was classified.

It was going to take some work to hack it but Tony was up for the challenge.

James didn't know Stark well enough to know that he would obsess about literally anything given the opportunity, but even he wasn't emotionally maladjusted enough to not figure out that a kid would dig into their parents' lives. Not good. If he found out what she had been, one of the founders of HYDRA and designers of 're-education' techniques, it wouldn't be pretty.

He didn't want to be there when that happened, but he also couldn't leave yet. If he walked away with his left arm still deactivated, he would be immensely vulnerable.

"You can't leave me like this, you have to make it work."

“You’re the one who told me to back off. And you’re not playing fair. You want me to finish fixing you, no more death threats and you get to talking. I’m not willing to wait for little tidbits that you can’t help but spill in Russian.” Tony knew that Bucky was damaged, emotionally, mentally, but he was also a dick and sometimes (all the time), he didn’t care how he came off.

He wasn’t here to make friends. He had friends. Pepper. Happy. Rhodey. Steve, weirdly enough.

Maybe that blue alien binary gendered royal that visited to break stuff and kill people sometimes.

He didn’t need Bucky.

It wasn't kind, but it wasn't exactly unexpected or unfair. Stark was going to be fixing him, providing him with a service, and he had the right to demand a fee. James just wished it wasn't this fee, because it would get ugly fast. It was more than likely, he thought, that Stark simply wouldn't believe what he had to say and would get angry or even violent at this asshole besmirching the memory of his Mom.

But what choice did he have?

He couldn't just walk out of here with one arm fully out of commission, that would likely lead to him dead or recaptured in no time at all, so this was the lesser of two evils.

"I'll answer your questions after you're done."

Because otherwise there'd be the danger that it wouldn't get done.

Rolling his eyes, Tony appeared to think about the deal for a moment, though he has always been ready and willing to fix that arm. It was new technology. It was a challenge. And he really, really wanted to do it.

That was why he didn’t wait too long before he returned to his rolling stool and patted the table for Bucky to drop back down on.

“You’re probably going to feel some tugging. I’m pretty sure all of this is connected to your nervous system,” he said, starting right in on things. It would be a few hours or work before he finished, happy with his work and the result, cold pizza waiting for them both downstairs.

It wasn't any more pleasant the second time around, he spent much of those hours staring into the middle distance and breathing in short, shallow pants. But he didn't lash out and he didn't lose himself, and eventually he was able to sit up again and move his arm with a loud whirring noise as it reactivated.

"...thank you."

Even if this was now a business deal with a payment at the end of it, Stark still deserved thanks for helping when he didn't have to.

"Okay, so-- your Mom, what do you want to know?"

To be honest, Tony had forgotten that they were going to talk about his mom. His mind had boxed that up for later and he was still sorting through the feelings of elation seeing that arm up and working properly again. He blinked, long eyelashes momentarily covering up his confusion before it clicked again.

Right. His mother.

Tony stood to get himself a rag for his hands. He’d wash up really good in a little bit but the whole room would be sanitized when they left so it didn’t matter. His shirt and his jeans had little flecks of red all over then anyway.

“Everything. How did you meet her?”

"I don't remember."

That much, at least, was true and not an avoidance of answering. He didn't remember the exact instance when he met her, and he hadn't known her that well, but what little he did remember was enough.

"The first time I remember meeting her, she came for an inspection. It was in the fifties, I think."

Fifties?

It should be a lot weirder to be talking to a guy who looked younger than he was about meeting his mom before he was born, but it wasn’t. Stranger things had happened before and it wasn’t like Bucky was the first army officer from World War II suddenly back from the dead, right?

Maybe this was a start of a new World War II zombie uprising? Tony would be awesome at that game because Steve wouldn’t want to play it and kick his ass with his superior hand-eye coordination.

“Inspection of what?”

Why did Bucky think that he might be able to get away with just leaving it vague like that? He should have known that Stark would press, and he couldn't even just up and leave without breaking his word that he'd give answers in exchange for the fix job on his arm. It was odd, and probably stupid, that he cared about not breaking his word considering everything else he had done.

It just seemed like a connection to being human that he didn't want to lose.

"An inspection of me. She was involved in the Winter Soldier project."

Please let this be enough. Please let Stark see where this was going and not push out of respect for the memory of his dead mother.

“Winter Soldier?” Tony has absolutely no idea what that was. He settled back, arms crossed over his chest. “That sounds like some sort of Disney Princess movie,” he mused. “Elsa meets Mulan. Huh. I probably should not be able to name the Disney Princesses.”

He shrugged as if that was that.

“Did she work on cryostasis? Is that why you still look like you’re in your late twenties after a few decades?”

It was actually a little bit comforting that Stark didn't know about the Winter Soldier project, it really cut down on the tiny possibility that he could be HYDRA just trying to fool him. A scientist of Stark's reputation and prowess would definitely be working high enough up to know about that.

"Yeah, I think she had something to do with it. But she specialised in behaviour modification-- you know-- you know the Winter Soldier project was a HYDRA project."

Which means Maria Stark was HYDRA, that leap isn't hard to make, please don't make him spell it out.

Behavior modification sounded like something you do to rats. Or maybe gorillas if you needed them to learn sign language so you could make a name for yourself and get lots of grant money to enslave indigenous people. But what did Tony know? He was more interested in the hard sciences.

He wanted to make a joke but Bucky just kept going. He said HYDRA. HYDRA of all things. And that scared him, not because Bucky might have been abused or that the driving force of the Nazis had been alive and well at least into the fifties (and probably the seventies and eighties and nineties too considering his mother was still alive during those decades), but because that meant something no one could ever be asked to accept.

“So are you telling me that you’re HYDRA?” It was better to compartmentalize.

"I was."

It still felt sort of unreal to make that statement, because he had started to regain some vague memories of a man who had fought against HYDRA and would never have chosen to join their ranks. Of everything, even if it had been forced, that felt like a personal betrayal to Steve.

"I'm not now."

He was going to have to spell this out, wasn't he? Voice and eyes hard. "But she was, and she was the whole time I knew her."

Tony wanted to hit something so very, very badly, and Bucky was right there to lash out at. He’d often wondered what hitting Steve would be like and this was probably as close as he could get. He knew it wouldn’t do much. If Bucky let him connect, and that was a big if, he very much doubted that his would go anywhere other than having his own jaw dislocated.

Worth it. So worth it. And it was much better than thinking that his mom was a Nazi.

Anger seeped out of him, collected on his skin, and forced the tension in his arm. He drew back. He clenched his fist. He swung.

The outcome wouldn’t matter, though the aggression would indeed trigger a call to Steve Rogers. Not that the blond could possibly get there in less than half an hour, even on his motorcycle.

JARVIS put in an emergency call to Steve Rogers, but he was discreet about it as usual. He merely said that Mr. Stark was engaged in a fight and could use assistance, not who that fight was with. It was possible that such sensitive information was not something that he should share, so he didn't.

James allowed the punch to connect.

He had been hit by much worse than an ageing inventor without his power suit, and it barely even registered to him even though his jaw would bruise. His arms snapped up after that to attempt to grab Stark by the upper arms and hold him still.

"You asked for what I knew, I told you not to dig down that hole."

It wasn’t a bad idea to keep Tony from striking out again. His hand was aching something fierce from just one hit and he was mostly left just flailing around. It was pathetic, really, but he probably could have wiped Bucky out with a push of a button if he really wanted to. He seemed much more interested in digging his hands into the shit instead, gloves off. It felt good, as much as it hurt.

“You’re lying,” Tony hissed, dangling like a fish at the end of Bucky’s hand as he struggled to get free. “You’re lying. You have no way of proving it. Just because you went Dark Side— Fuck you. Don’t involve my mom in your fascist bullshit!”

Technically, Tony wasn’t trying to involve himself in an effort to keep Bucky around, but his outburst and antics certainly would buy some time.

"Why would I?"

It wasn't hard at all for him to keep Stark still, the man was no match for him in a straight physical contest and he would much rather keep him from attacking than fight back and risk causing damage.

"Why would I lie about that?"

Surely a lie only made sense if it benefited the person telling it, not caused them detriment like this truth did. He couldn't change what Maria Stark had been, and he had warned the younger Stark not to go digging, but all of that was being ignored now.

"I'm gonna let you go, and you're gonna let me walk out without trying anything dumb. Understand?"

Yeah. No deal. Tony pulled again at the hand, feeling his skin bruised up already, and gritted his teeth. “I want proof. What proof do you have?”

Because just talking shit on his parents is something that happened an awful lot. This might well be no different but Tony wanted assurances otherwise.

He kept his voice low, but at least his muscles finally relaxed. He wouldn’t promise about not doing something dumb because he always did dumb things. It was his MO. But at least he’d hold off for the time being.

"Even if I carried that sort of proof around with me, it would be pointless giving it to you. You need to do your own research, or you'd just think I was handing you more lies."

But if Stark dug into it himself - and he had the means to now that he had a place to begin and the smarts to do it - and found the truth, it would be much harder to denounce as someone just trying to smear her name posthumously.

"I'm letting you go now, and I'm leaving."

Hopefully before Rogers showed up, not that he knew JARVIS had called in the cavalry.

It had only been five minutes from the time Tony tried to hit Bucky to being let go. There was absolutely no way for Steve to make it in time. Tony didn’t move when Bucky released him, though there was so much nervous energy in his legs that he almost jumped up and ran after without even being able to help himself.

Right now, he was a HYDRA collaborator. By birth, by deed. His stomach ached and he ran a hand over his mouth.

HYDRA hadn’t existed for decades and now... now he was learning that was not the truth.

Steve would find him at work with his research, would find images of himself and Bucky before Bucky supposedly died, and all of the early members of SHIELD too. Screens were thrown up everywhere.

As soon as Bucky let go, he was gone. It was a testament to the skills he had been trained with that he managed to escape such a fortified building so quickly and quietly, but within another five minutes he was well hidden and regretting his choices.

Steve showed up ready for a fight, shield in hand ready, but found that Tony didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, though... why did he have a bunch of screens up about things that happened long ago? Like it always did, seeing Bucky's face made his stomach sink. That was the one thing he truly regretted, the friend he failed.

"...Tony? JARVIS called me, he said you needed some help. Everything okay, pal?"

“Yeah. No.” What a non-committal and confusing thing to say! Tony spent too much time in Malibu not to pick up a few thing here and there from Californians. The last word always was the correct one on linked together, oppositional fragments. No, no he was not all right.

He moved some screens around and brought one down from the air to the desk in front of him, flicking through images of his father and his mother before they had died. Before he was born. He was so mad that he was leaving angry little streaks on the glass surface.

“What do you know about the Winter Soldier program?”

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