pirateangelbaby | [ENDGAME SPOILERS] Half of a Whole

Entry tags:

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Steve's seen plenty of people come in who look the way Thor does these last couple of weeks. He never managed to get quite this bad himself, mostly because no one would leave him alone long enough for it to fester like this. His hygiene and activities became part of a haze of repetition but they kept him from sitting in an empty room staring at a far wall.

He has no way of knowing what kind of expression he's wearing. Looking at Thor upends all of the walls Steve's put up to convince himself and others that he's functional again. Thor yet grieves and Steve wants to grieve with him. But it won't change what's been done.

"Rocket's got the right of it. Hadn't heard anything from you since you settled in here."

That takes a couple moments to really sink in as Thor just stares at them, speechless. But eventually he does blink, and give a nod to the Valkyrie, who throws a sarcastic-looking salute before she turns to walk off. Thor swings the door a little wider and steps back, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Well... come on in, then."

Between the amount he's already had to drink and the depth perception issue, he keeps his hand on the wall on his way back inside. It's a cozy little place, especially for a man of Thor's size, though he carries himself differently than he used to, head and shoulders bowed as if his grief is a physical weight pressing down on him. It makes him seem smaller, almost, despite the dimensions of the house.

Most of the decor is clearly left over from whoever owned this cottage before Thor, a thin layer of dust settled on various knickknacks on the shelves, artwork of mountains and sailing ships on the walls. The layout is simple, but most of the rooms look like they've seen little use, save for the living room. The couch sports a small, messy pile of knitted blankets, its accompanying coffee table strewn with empty ale bottles piled around an onyx-black prosthetic arm, and there's a small stack of kegs against one wall that are stamped with the same dwarven symbol that had been on the mead Thor had shared with Steve all those weeks ago. Stormbreaker stands propped up in the same corner, its metal head gleaming brightly despite the shadows around it, clean of any dust. A television that looks to be twenty years old sits against the wall, volume low as it displays reruns of a Norwegian drama.

It isn't a total pigsty, but Rocket still looks around at the interior in mild dismay. "Well it ain't exactly a golden castle, huh?"

Thor doesn't quite flinch, busying himself with trying to pull a knit hat over his hair one-handed, not really sure why he's bothering. They've already seen it. Habit, maybe. "It suits me all right. Sorry, I don't... usually have visitors." He almost goes to clear off the table, but he has nowhere else to put the bottles, so he gives up and sits down heavily on the couch instead, avoiding meeting their eyes.

They wander in to someone else's home and Steve can't help but to wonder who made this place into a home before Thanos. Thor certainly hasn't. There's nothing save for his weapon to mark this place as his own. The empty bottles are litter, not decor, after all. Steve's gaze is distant as it tracks across the living room. His own shoulders drop ever so slightly. They may have failed the world and every other planet but Steve doesn't want to fail his friend too.

"You've got enough to worry about right now. Mind if I poke around a bit?"

It shouldn't take long for Steve to pick up the garbage at least, bag it up with whatever the previous owner had lying around for their trash. He's half tempted to do it anyway even if Thor objects but he doesn't want to discount anything his friend has to say right now.

It's been easier, somehow, for Thor to keep himself confined to mostly just the one room. Like he's just a guest, respecting the sanctity of his host's belongings, avoiding erasing these last traces of a stranger's life cut short. Yet at the same time, he's done so little to keep the space tidy, telling himself he will do it later, and later, but just the thought of doing it seems a monumental effort, even as the detritus piles deeper every day. So later never comes.

"I... yeah, fine." It's not like Steve can judge him harder than he's already judged himself, and yet it still makes a mild dread clench in his chest, and Thor reaches for one of the few full bottles still on the table, popping off the cap with his thumb, before pausing. "Sorry, did you... do you want something to drink?" Just because he's not used to houseguests is no excuse for being a poor host, and they've come all this way to... see him. Which he still doesn't quite understand, because why would he deserve their attention anymore?

Rocket gives him a look, sniffing at the bottle and making a face. "Y'know what, I'll pass."

It won't do any good to chastise Thor, and in fact might only make the situation worse. Nor will it do any good for Steve to just quietly sit amid the trash signifying that this is an acceptable way to live. He's still painfully new at the whole therapy thing himself but even if he can't cheer Thor up he can do his part to take care of his friend. Steve's silent as he picks up around Rocket and Thor, head down so his gaze is never on the god.

"I'll get something when I'm finished, thanks pal." The smile Steve gives when he glances up is small but there all the same. Though it's only going to be water for him when he does help himself to a glass after taking the bags of trash outside to the bins. He'd have grabbed Rocket and Thor some as well but Thor seems to already have a drink and Rocket's turned it down.

"You don't have to do anything, you know. Even if we just sit here in silence for an hour, it's good to see you." Steve doesn't need Thor to force himself into pretending he's okay. Knows that this isn't something people just get over. "If you're up for it later though and don't want to do that, I think Rocket and I would appreciate a walk around."

Vaguely, Thor feels that he should probably be helping. This is his mess, and it's a poor show of hospitality for his guests to have to clean up after him in his own house, let alone before they've even sat down. But he's already told Steve that he could, and even Rocket is making the effort to fetch a few bottles out from under the table where they've rolled out of easy reach.

He should stop them. Take over, do it himself. But for some reason he can't bring himself to move, so instead he just sits uselessly on the couch with his ale, and tries not to watch them work as he drinks just for something to do with his hand.

Thor is not sure he's ever felt so at war with himself. He wants to be alone, but he doesn't want them to leave either, now that they're here. He doesn't want to talk about anything to do with... with that guy, but he's tired of only having his own thoughts for company, no matter how much he tries to drown them out with drink. He wants to drink enough to forget, but he wants to be sober enough that they won't worry about him more than he deserves. He should do something, but he doesn't know what, so he does nothing at all.

That last part has him blinking up at Steve, though, caught wrong-footed by the suggestion. "You want a tour of the town?" Of course they would, wouldn't they? This is supposed to be the New Asgard, or so the humans who deliver their supply shipments have been calling it. And Thor had never managed to show his home to his mortal friends before and now it's gone, and this is the kingdom he has to work with, if he can even call it that.

He's barely even aware that Rocket has slipped off toward the kitchen, poking around the refrigerator and the cabinets to investigate if there's even any food in the house. What the raccoon finds is not terribly encouraging, mostly just canned goods and shelf-stable snack foods, but no leftovers and nothing fresh. A few dirty dishes in the sink, though, so at least he's been eating something once in a while.

Depression is a hell of a thing.

Steve doesn't think there's a single one of them left alive that isn't struggling with some kind of crippling mental illness after the trauma they've all gone through. Families ripped apart. Empty homes just sitting untouched as a reminder to what's been lost. While Thor is losing himself to Inaction Steve is a slave to Avoidance. If he just keeps busy, if he just sits down and remembers the past he doesn't have time to think about the present.

The future may as well be nonexistent.

And so it's easier to focus on Thor than to spare time worrying about himself. Steve nods ever so slightly from where he's seated across from the couch but doesn't press the issue.

"We brought supplies for your people. It's not terribly much, but it wasn't being used back at the Complex and we knew your people hadn't been able to bring belongings with them."

Edited 2019-06-11 01:29 (UTC)

After Ragnarok, Thor's pride had made him reluctant to accept charity from others, even knowing that there was little to no chance that the remnant of Asgard would survive with anything less. He had bartered and borrowed to the best of his ability, fed and clothed his people on promises of repayment after they reached their new home, determined not to let his once-proud people become beggars.

But now they live in dead people's homes, wearing dead people's clothing and eating dead people's food. Or abandoned, but in the end it makes little difference. There is no place in this new world for reluctance to use what is still here, because half the world no longer needs it. And Thor is fairly certain he has no pride left to stand in the way, anyway. "Thank you," he says quietly, still not quite making eye contact, half afraid of what he will see if he does, and unsure whether he prefers condemnation or pity more.

That he continues speaking comes as much a surprise to him as it might to Steve, though it's hesitant and halting. "The people are... adjusting. Learning new crafts we need. Fishing, mostly. Not much farmland yet, too rocky, might be able to fix that. Too late to plant this year though." Too late. How he's come to hate those words. Thor takes a pull of his ale to deflect from it, for his own sake as much as his guests'.

Though Rocket has never been a stickler for keeping things neat and tidy, he hasn't been able to resist the urge to clean up a little too, washing up the dishes in the sink. He leans in the doorway between the living room and the small kitchen, drying a plate with a decorative hand towel as he listens. "The folks in town looked pretty well spread out," he comments casually. And maybe it's a bad idea to ask directly, but he's never been terribly good at the whole sensitivity thing, either. "How many are there, anyhow?"

Thor stares down into the glass bottle in his hand as if he could refill it by sheer force of will, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he forces the numbers out. "Eight hundred and twenty-two." It's more than there should have been, he knows. Over three hundred saved by being evacuated to the Nexus, mostly children, who are alive now because of it. Yet Asgard once numbered in the tens of thousands, and he cannot forget that every time he looks at them.

It's neither, really. No less than what they've done for more local outreach groups. They're every single one of them who's survived Thanos' culling as lost as the next person. The Asgardians are moreso because they couldn't even bring anything with them when they came. They make Earth their home now, so Steve's treating them like it's their home too. Maybe that's not what being an Avenger used to mean, but since Thanos it's what they've become.

When there's no battle to be fought with fists there's still suffering elsewhere to combat. Poverty, hunger. Steve tries not to think too hard about it. Tries not to think too hard about anything. It helps the days go by easier.

"Earth's your home now too. We take care of our own." It includes Thor and his people. Steve doesn't press further though. He'd rather listen. Parse what he's being told versus what they saw when they were coming in. It seems true enough though the Asgardians have not been here for long they do seem to be adjusting well. No one flinging magic about or causing a stir so far as he could see.

"Plenty of resources around to help them learn almost anything. If it's not online there's always the Nexus library." Practiced doctors or specialists will be harder to find but it's that way everywhere. Thanos' wish may not have preferred any one type of person over another but for industries where there was already more demand than supply--especially those that serve people directly--the loss is exceptionally difficult. Half the population is gone, yes. But those that remain disproportionately All need help in some kind or another.

Earth’s your home now too. That is what finally gets Thor to raise his head and look at Steve, instead of staring down at his hand. “Asgard is not a place,” he murmurs, something that the others have no doubt heard him say more than once since his home was destroyed. It had been a mantra to keep them all going, the final parting advice Odin had given before he had stepped beyond Thor’s halved sight, a promise that they had saved what had mattered most.

Thor has rather a lot more trouble believing that, now. But he does not know what else to cling to. Some of Asgard yet lives, and it should be enough. Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, it will one day be true again.

Self-study is not unknown to Asgard, though apprenticeships and tutoring were more the norm for most subjects. Having to learn an entirely new trade is a weighty undertaking, and they will surely need all the help they can get. A pang of guilt nibbles under Thor’s ribs that he had not even considered the Nexus library as an option. No, the only thing he has accomplished in his recent visits has been to stock up on his own supplies, and nothing more. “There is, isn’t there?” Which means he should probably get some PINpoints to be used by those who need access, and some way to track who has left the settlement, in case something happens. Without Heimdall to keep an eye on things, it is nerve wracking enough to watch the fishing ships sail out past the horizon. That is part of the reason why Thor tends not to watch them go, as if not seeing it means it isn’t happening.

Though they have not spoken of it recently, Thor recalls several conversations with his shieldbrother in the glory days of the Avengers, where they had discussed a little of Steve’s struggles reintegrating with Earth life after his long sleep. Strange as it had been at the time to consider seventy years long enough to cause such drastic changes, he’s since seen just how quickly the tide can turn and sweep away all solid ground. If anyone will understand how it is to have lost everything, then it would be Steve, though he had ‘died’ a hero, rather than dooming trillions. “What... would you have done,” Thor asks, hesitant and quiet, “if the Avengers had never been needed?”

"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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ENDGAME SPOILERS] Half of a Whole

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject