pirateangelbaby | [ENDGAME SPOILERS] Half of a Whole

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[ENDGAME SPOILERS] Half of a Whole

Three weeks after half the universe turned to dust, several things happen all at once.

Nick Fury's transmitter abruptly stops its broadcast, not because the battery has died, but because its intended recipient has finally arrived. Carol Danvers has flown from one end of space to the next to find them, bringing news of worlds in chaos across the galaxy and seeking an explanation - seeking Fury, who they cannot give to her, his body Vanished along with half of the Earth.

Rocket gives her the transmitter frequency for the Benatar, desperate for news on his missing team. She leaves, and returns a day later with a crippled spaceship on her shoulders, its engines dead and life support failed completely. Rocket is among those who run to greet its arrival, beady little eyes desperate to catch even a glimpse of his family, but the only one he knows who emerges is Nebula, sorrow in her black eyes as she takes his small hand in hers.

She's not alone, however. The other occupant of the ship is Tony Stark, looking much worse for wear, half wasted away from injury and starvation, and so upset that he works himself into collapse only hours after landing. Tony confirms what the Nexus has already hinted to Natasha: Peter is gone, along with Rocket's family and the Sorcerer Supreme. The Man of Iron may be too weak and too emotionally shattered to be of much help but Nebula quietly confirms that she's fit for duty. Whatever horrible alterations have been made to her body, at the very least starvation doesn't seem to work for her quite the way it does for humans. When she and Rocket fill the other in on what each has missed, she immediately volunteers to sign on with him.

The mission is to find and kill Thanos. Where else in the universe would she choose to be?

And it turns out she knows a great deal indeed about his plans for after accomplishing his mission. An unremarkable world only a few jumps from Earth, uninhabited by any civilization, that Nebula calls the Garden. And once Rocket restores power to the Benatar, the ship's scanners tell a startling tale - the energy wave of the snap in Wakanda has been sighted again, on that very same world that Thanos has intended to call his home.

Confirmation that he is there, and so are the stones.

For weeks, Thor's battle-fire has been banked in his heart, smothered beneath the heaviness of blame and grief, but now it begins to smolder again as he calls Stormbreaker to his hand, and goes to find his new-forged arm, stronger than the last. This, then, is his chance for redemption. His chance to undo what has been done, and bring back the trillions of lives he'd failed to save. One way or another, either Thanos will die today, or Thor will meet a warrior's death trying.

As he looks around the room, he sees that same sentiment reflected in the eyes of those who still remain. "Let's go get this son of a bitch," Steve declares, and Thor feels cold determination settle into his stomach.

After three long weeks of waiting, finally, they can act.

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"I didn't look like this when I first found the Nexus."

Steve's spoken to Thor over the years about how he was changed, different now. Thor's seen proof of it first hand over the time they've spent fighting alongside one another. Staying with each other during the brief time they called the tower Home. He's talking about the sickly waif of a man they show in the museums. As if it was by effort and not freak chance Steve ended up looking the way he does now. Capable of so much more than he ever used to be.

"If the Avengers hadn't been needed, I wouldn't have stayed back home for long." How could he? What exactly would have been there for him? Certainly not the team he has come to love as his own family. He probably wouldn't have met most of them even. "I'd have tried to find a way back to the Nexus a lot sooner. Maybe started over here, or maybe uprooted entirely and moved in to someone else's world. Someplace where they could use me."

It's easy to say now--knowing what he does-- that he would have stayed. That he would have done good however he could and been happy leading a semi-normal life. Steve knows it as sure as he does his own heartbeat that he wouldn't have wanted to do that. If he'd been forced to, stuck there with no hope of going back to the Nexus, then he would have adjusted.

He'd have made do.

"I knew soldiers here. I knew there were people I could help. I'd have tried to come back."

Sensing that maybe this is something better left between the two men, Rocket busies himself in the kitchen, putting away dishes and trying to straighten things up a bit. If that means finding busy work, then fine. He's got an ear on the conversation anyway.

Thor listens, and what he hears is much how he'd expected Steve to answer. Of course he would have. The captain has always been brave and stubborn and driven by the need to act if there is anything to be done, anything at all. That he is here is proof enough.

If he tries, Thor can almost remember what it felt like, to be the same. To have something to do with himself, something helpful, heroic even. It feels like a lifetime ago. Thor has always thrived on action, and without it, he feels he is withering like a plant without the sun. But what other choice does he have? His place is here, no matter how far Asgard has fallen. And even if he was to leave, and find a cause to lend his axe, he no longer trusts himself to act as he should.

Thor thinks of himself only that mere handful of years ago, waxing maudlin on the helicarrier about how he had come to see the truth of war, and thinks, I was still so naive, then. Before he realizes that he even intends to speak, he finds himself doing it anyway. "My whole life, my father told me that a wise king never seeks out war, but must always be ready for it. He never really told me what to do after." Or how to lose. But Odin hadn't lost, had he? Not that he'd ever said. He'd certainly never killed half the universe, even in whatever bloody conquest he'd led to bring the Nine Realms under his heel.

"You're doing what you think is right."

Staying with his people, being here for them even if he's not at his best. If he's trying to compare himself to Steve with that line of questioning, Steve knows he sounds like a traitor. That he'd so easily abandon his own people to seek out another world. But if the Avengers didn't exist, if Steve didn't know all of the things he does now?

He wouldn't have wanted to stay. Too many friends waited left behind that threshold between worlds. If he hadn't been needed at home and was just a relic from an age gone by...

"I don't have a purpose anymore. But I can't run away now. The world is like this because of me." Because of them. "I go and I sit and I listen to people open themselves up. Talk about what my failure has done to them. Sometimes it helps them. It feels like the only penance I can give anyone, anymore."

That gets a laugh out of Thor, brief and humorless. He doesn't even know what is right anymore, his judgment suspect since that terrible moment in Wakanda when he'd allowed his grief and rage to guide his hand, instead of his head. And now even that is rebelling against him, haunting him, striking so deeply that sometimes he can't even breathe.

But he supposes that he has not failed what is left of Asgard since they landed, so if Steve wishes to count that as a victory on Thor's part, then so be it. At least they have a place to stay, to build something like a life. That is something, anyway.

He wants to argue that Steve holds far less blame in this than Thor himself does, but the rest of what his friend has to say has him blinking in surprise. He does not know much of Midgardian grieving customs, but an emotional weregild is not exactly what he'd expected. Though he supposes that even Stark's vast riches would not nearly be enough recompense for the billions on Earth whose lives were cut short, and those left behind to grieve. "Just talking? And... that is enough for them?"

"They call it therapy. Group therapy. Everyone shares their struggles and helps be there for each other. Some of them don't come back. Either because it isn't working for them or they're not ready to talk. Aren't ready to hear."

But no one would be in this situation if they hadn't failed. No one would be this devastated, this traumatized. Everyone who's survived Thanos has been changed. There can be no fixing that. All they can do is learn to live with it day by day. Which honestly, Steve isn't. He spends all his time listening to people talk about what they've lost. How their lives have changed because of his failure. It leaves him rooted in the spot and unable to move on.

Or unwilling.

Steve doesn't want to live in a world without the people that are gone. He doesn't want to just 'Move On'. There's even a small part of him that resents those that are, especially among his friends. It's not a fight he'll ever pick but the feelings are there all the same. Raw in their honesty as ugly as it is.

"If I can help even one person...It'll be something."

That makes some kind of sense. Though when Thor had needed counsel in the past, he had always gone to his friends, or family. People he knew well, and could confide in privately. Never anything on this scale, and never when they were hurting also. But the friends he'd once relied on to guide him true are gone, all of them. Except perhaps Sif, though if she differs from the one he's met in the Nexus, her fate is still unknown to him, and so she is still out of reach. But his mother, his father, his brother, the Warriors Three, Heimdall... all now feast in Valhalla, or eternally rest in Folkvangr.

The only friends he has left now are the Avengers, mortals he has known for a mere handful of years, brothers and sisters in arms now scattered to the winds. But here is Steve anyway, still trying to help in what small ways he can, traveling halfway around the planet just to see him, no matter how unworthy Thor is of his attention. Still making an effort, even if it is only what he needs to cope with the world they now live in, a distraction from reality, much as Thor is trying to drown his sorrows until he can't think of them anymore.

Well, he is not as drunk as he'd like to be just yet, but there is still plenty of time left in the day. So Thor drains the dregs of his ale and sets it down on the coffee table, and doesn't get up for another, burying his hand in the hoodie pocket so he will not fidget without a bottle in it. At least not openly. "You're a stronger man than I am," he admits quietly. A burden shared is a burden halved, but when everyone is carrying the weight already, Thor can't imagine it makes it much easier to bear. It is difficult enough facing those he knows; listening to the grief of countless strangers would be enough to break him, if he wasn't already.

He intends to leave it at that, but finds himself speaking anyway, after a few moments' silence. He may have shut himself away from the world on his own, but he is learning that it does nothing to make him feel less lonely, no matter how much he thinks he deserves the suffering. "There are three hundred fourteen of my people alive now because of the Nexus," he begins, hesitant. "Most of them children. We've done the math; there would have been less survivors otherwise. I should be grateful, but..." But there should have been more. Even if there was nothing more he could have done to stop the massacre aboard the ship, that had not been the final blow to what remained of Asgard. And it seems petty and selfish to be so distraught over a mere handful of lives, compared to the loss that reaches across the universe, but they were Thor's responsibility. Faces he'd come to know, over the months since Ragnarok. Men and women and children alike. It's personal, in a way that makes the horror of what he's done far worse.

"I didn't leave the complex for weeks well after you had gone. The only reason I'm upright at all is because Nat wouldn't give up on me. So I'm paying it forward." Because it's the right thing to do, yes, but more importantly to Steve because Thor is someone he cares about and is still here. Still alive.

Steve doesn't want to lose him, too.

"I'm not going to give up on you." He holds out a hand expectantly for Thor to take to help the god up to his feet. "Show me around. Please?"

That's three hundred and fourteen souls that want to see their king succeed. Who are relying on him to lead them through these horrible times. Steve can't do that for his friend, but he can sure as hell support the Asgardian.

It has been difficult to leave the house lately, something Thor avoids as often as he can, too weary to make the effort most days. The Valkyrie has done little to drag him out except when needed, with no commentary on how he chooses to spend his time, an unspoken understanding borne of having been through the same thing herself. But here is Steve, offering him a hand up as he has in battle before, his expression open and earnest in his desire to help a friend get back on his feet, literal or not.

What kind of man would Thor be if he rejected this, too? He can handle one little walk around town. He must.

It takes a moment, but he grasps Steve's outstretched hand, letting the captain pull him upright. "All right." He tugs on his knit hat to make sure it's covering enough of his hair, though he quickly deems it too much effort to put his arm on. He shouldn't need it, not right now. "Rabbit, are you coming?"

Rocket pokes his head back through the doorway, looking slightly agitated. "Nah, I'll catch up. You ain't done laundry once this whole time, have you?" There's more, but he bites back the comment before he can voice it, that sad look in his eyes that means it has something to do with his family. "I'm gonna wash some stuff," he declares, acting as if he'd never faltered.

If that is how he wants to spend his time, Thor will not stop him. Though he was going to get around to doing that himself. Eventually. "All right."

With Steve at his shoulder, it is not quite as difficult to step out of the door as it would be alone, the village sprawling out across the islands before them, people moving here and there with purpose. Thor's pace is slower, not quite aimless, and not so unsteady that he needs help walking. There is only one road that traces a path across all the main islands, and with solid asphalt under their feet, the two men trace the route through town. Here and there, Thor points out humble little landmarks - the village grocery, the fish-drying racks along the shores that have yet to be filled, a repurposed church being used as an administrative center, a small greenhouse that is under construction. It is nothing so grandiose as Asgard had been at its height, rugged and simple without a trace of gold anywhere, and not for the first time Thor regrets never getting a chance to show his home to his mortal friends. But this is home now, and they are fortunate to just have a place to call their own at all.

They do not walk the entire length of the road, as the last two islands closest to the mainland are the least developed, mostly rock and grass with only a few buildings of interest. But Thor has a distant look in his eye as he points out one of them across the strait, its high bluff overlooking open sea to the east, and names it Odin's Tower. The place where his father died, and Thor's life had changed forever.

Steve doesn't rush Thor's decision, nor does his expression change the longer it takes for the god to grasp hold of his hand. There's still the faintest surges of relief when his offer is finally taken. Steve isn't going to be staying here, won't be able to hold out day in and day out for Thor to let him in. It's a relief to be given this when he's only just arrived.

Steve hopes the look that flickers across his face at Rocket isn't too worried or concerned. None of them like their wounds being prodded. It's so very easy to step on landmines here of emotional unrest without even being aware of it. Everyone has lost so much. Rocket more than most. The soldier nods and follows Thor out the door. They won't be gone terribly long, Steve would be willing to bet.

It feels good to be out walking. Not a feel good that makes one happy by any means--Steve's not sure he even knows how to be that anymore--but it's something to do that pushes away the chance for too much introspection. It's something to focus on. Activity to keep a body so used to physical activity from aching with its disuse.

Thor's people are adapting well from everything Steve can see. There's nothing for strife among his people though some must certainly exist. They're putting the community first. It's been touching to see communities coming together in the wake of Thanos. Steve only wishes it didn't have to be because of something like this stealing everything they loved away. Those who have survived have to lean on each other to keep going. No one's strong enough alone.

"Will there be a tower there, someday?" Steve has heard of the god's passing from Thor before now. He lets his gaze wander across the strait and tries to picture it. "You could make anything you wanted out of this place, given enough time."

The question is an innocent one, and reasonable enough, but Thor still feels the weight of his years when Steve asks, both those already lived and those he has yet to see. It’s difficult for him to imagine how things may have changed even by next month, never mind far enough ahead that they’ll have time and resources to build beyond what is needed right now. Or a point at which Thor can look on the faces of those he lost and not feel as though his heart has been torn out of his chest, still beating.

He becomes aware that he’s taking too long to answer, and forces a more neutral expression onto his face as he looks out over the water, though he is not quite as successful at chasing the melancholy look from his eye. “Maybe. I hadn’t planned one, but... a memorial, perhaps. There were statues, on Asgard. For my family.” His voice does not break, though it is a near thing. Thor lets out a weary sigh, and his gaze sweeps across the little islands, trying to envision them as anything other than what they are now. “There’ll be time to shape it to our needs. Make it home. Or close enough.”

"Natasha wanted me to let you know that she didn't give your room away. You've got a lot to do here, and we all know it. But you'll always have a place back with us, too."

Steve would have said so even without Natasha's input, but the soldier desperately wants Thor to know he's got people on his side right now. When the world has fallen apart at their fingertips, at the very least they've still got each other. What's left, at least.

"I'll come out here as often as I can, if that's what you need."

Of all the things that Steve has said since he arrived, this is what stuns Thor the most. No matter how many times others argue otherwise, Thor knows that he is responsible for the devastation. That he is unworthy of anyone's friendship, that he is no hero, not even to himself. He knows it, and he is certain that they do too. They would be well within their rights to turn their backs to him.

But here is Steven, telling him that he is still welcome. That Natasha agrees. That even after everything he has put them through - is still putting them through - there is still a place for him among them. Still an Avenger, in name if not in deeds. He does not deserve such friends, and yet... he has them anyway. And it does not matter that their lives will be brief in the long span of years that Thor may have yet left to live. They are here. Now. And even Asgardian lives may be cut short well before their time. He can be certain of nothing except what exists in the moment, and in this one, there is a hand offered in friendship, whether or not he is worthy of it.

His view of the island grows misty, in a way that has little to do with the flow of the weather, and Thor scrubs at his eye. "...thank you." It seems inadequate, but he can't find the right words, gratitude twisted with his own self-loathing until he can't separate them at all. But his understanding with his human friend has never been only about words, and after a long hesitation, Thor reaches out to put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Thank you," he repeats, a little stronger, and though his smile is faint and hollow, it's a smile nonetheless. "If you... I'd like to see you again."

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[ENDGAME SPOILERS] Half of a Whole

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