Poppies

Steve stood up, rubbing his chest. That had quite hurt, but he was pleased to see there was no damage from the Kree weapon. The new tac fabrics the hard-working scientists had developed were really effective. He turned around to pick up his shield just in time to see Emma running toward him. He raised his hand and started to speak to her, but he couldn't hear his voice. Then he noticed her stopping abruptly, beside...him? Wait, what? He took a second look and wanted to throw up. His head was mostly gone, along with a significant portion of his chest. He patted his face frantically, but everything was still there, he could feel it. He reached out to wipe blood off his wife's face, but he couldn't touch her. She took an absent swipe at her face and he almost fell to his knees at the shock and pain and grief on her face. She bent and picked up his shield, the one she had formed for his protection and defense, and gently placed it over what was left of his head and chest. He could see her speaking; she must be announcing this on the com. She turned and started firing again. He watched in disbelief as Bucky ran up, going to his knees. His hand reached out, then fell away without touching his fallen friend. Tony, Sam, and Jim landed. He couldn't hear what anybody was saying. Peter stumbled up, and he thought she was telling her son to--what? be careful? He lifted his hand ineffectually as he saw a Kree sighting on Peter, but Emma was on top of it; she blew it away. She finally smacked Tony's suit with the butt of her rifle--wait, where had she gotten that? She used pistols--somebody was putting his body on a stretcher--and the fliers, shock and horror and grief on their faces, took off. Peter stumbled a few steps and put up some webbing. Emma stayed over Bucky protectively, firing precisely. He couldn't be more proud of her, putting aside her own feelings to get the job done, to defend someone who couldn't do it for himself, just then.

There was a touch on his arm, and he looked to the side to see a woman in battle armor and a blood-red cloak, an enormous sheathed sword on her back, a winged horse by her side. She seemed strangely bright and it was difficult for Steve to look at her too closely. "I am Brynhildr," she said, speaking quietly, watching the battle before them. "I am a chooser of the slain. Odin has sent me to bring you to Valhalla, where you will bide until Ragnarok, where you will fight at his side."

He kept his eyes on his wife, keeping the prostrate Bucky safe. "I want to stay."

"Yet you cannot," the Valkyrie's voice was gentle but firm. "Your body will not support your life. If you stay, you will only fade away."

"I don't want to leave them."

"Whether you come with me or not, you have already left them," Brynhildr said sternly. "If you come with me, you have only to wait."

Steve turned his head and looked at her, eyes watering at the strength of the brightness around her. "Yes," she said, with a peal of laughter. "Odin is waiting for them as well. They will also be given the choice." Her face hardened. "Odin has instructed us that we may not arrange matters to our satisfaction. We must wait for them to fall in their own time."

"Wait, what?" Steve didn't understand.

"We serve Lord Odin, bringing his favorites to Valhalla when they fall," she said impatiently. "Sometimes we choose the slain, arranging for them to die in glorious battle so that their names will go down the ages in sagas for all to remember. Yet Odin has forbidden it in regard to those two," she said resentfully.

"How do you do that?" he asked, not quite sure if he wanted to know.

Her smile turned cruel. "Magic, you Midgardians would say. We have a loom, by which we weave the tragic destinies of those who would be heroes. We use intestines for thread, skulls for weights, and a spear to beat the weaving smooth as we chant to summon the magic and affect the fates of all. Odin requires the best and the bravest for the coming battle of Ragnarok, and this is not the work of a day, a year, or even of an age. So come now, and await your reunion. I have not all day to wait while you gaze upon your beloved with sad eyes. Join the Einherjar. " She sighed. "Time flows differently in Valhalla," she said more gently. "It will pass gently enough."

Steve's fingers reached once more to Emma, then fell to his side as he turned. Brynhildr leaped to the back of the winged horse and leaned down, extending her arm. He swung up behind her as the horse pranced, and a weight on his forearm made him look down. His shield was back. "It is your signature weapon," she said briskly. "How can you fight without it? While it remains in the world, physically, its essence passes with you." She clucked to the horse, who tapped the earth with its hoof, then sprung up into the air.

The horse set down outside a great hall, roofed in spears and arrows. "Behold the heroes of Valhalla," Brynhildr said proudly. "Each day they battle, so that when Ragnarok occurs, the army of Odin will be ready." Steve's heart sank a bit. An eternity of fighting. Yay. Still, for the possibility of seeing Emma and Bucky again... A figure appeared at the top of the stairs and descended toward them. The Valkyrie saluted Odin. He nodded to her and appraised Steve.

"Well met, warrior," he said crisply, and gestured to the Valkyrie, who shimmered in form to a stately, regal woman who stepped to his side. "Be known to my wife Frigga, most glorious of the asynjur, and welcome to my hall."

"Before you accept his warm welcome," Frigga said smoothly, laughter in her voice, "I would present to you an alternative that may be more to your liking. Join me in Folkvangr." Odin scowled. "Yes, where battle scythes the worthy, I reap half the warriors," she said with emphasis. "You have another possibility, Steven, son of Joseph. An alternative to Valhalla, where worthy warriors are welcomed. There is the eternal combat of the Hjaoningavig, for those who miss the press of battle, but participation is not a requirement for those who dwell in my hall, Sessrumnir."

"You know I desire him and his companions for Valhalla, o wife," Odin snapped at her.

"So that you may have a strong host to command at Ragnarok, when it comes," Frigga said, unruffled by his ire. "Yet daily combat over the ages is not to the liking of all." She studied her spouse and sighed. "When Ragnarok comes, long may it be delayed, I will allow those of my heroes who wish it to join your army. Does this not please you, my lord?"

Odin grouched. "Well," he muttered. "But I will be deprived of his company, and also that of his companions."

Frigga laughed, a silvery peal of mirth. "I see how it is! You wish to visit your favorite! Have no fear, for are you not allowed in my domain at your pleasure? The Valkyries will be summoned for the great companions, and they will be allowed their choice as well. And when they have made their choice, you may visit as your whim allows, drink mead and speak of battles with the men and inquire as to the latest products of her imagination," she said, taking a dainty poke at her husband. "A scholar and artisan as much as a warrior, you must concede that she is more fitted for a place in my realm," she said, cajoling him. "They may have passage to Valhalla as it pleases you to show them off, but they may reside with me, in peace."

There was some huffing and muttering, but when Odin finally wound down, Steve bowed to Frigga (it seemed the thing to do) and accepted her invitation. The thought of being allowed to rest his shield was too tempting to ignore, and he knew that Bucky and Emma would follow him where he went; he felt that his wife and his friend were equally tired of suffering and killing, and he didn't want Emma to have to endure Valhalla. He was sure it was bound to be sexist and violent, and he wanted more for her. She smiled at him. "I look forward to hearing of my sons from you, hero," she said, and summoned a handmaiden to show him the way.

*****

Frigga summoned him. His heart lifted, and he took a moment to put on his costume, the essence of his character that had followed him to Folkvangr, swinging his shield over his back as he hurried to the hall called Sessrumnir, a fine, light building. He sank down in his usual seat, a few seats from the goddess' right hand, but was too tense to sit quietly. This had to be big. She never just sent for him out of the blue. He hoped that it was time for someone to have made a choice. Please, not Stark, though. He was hoping for some time with his dearest before he showed up.

He sprang to his feet when he heard voices on the stair, but forced himself to stand at parade rest until Frigga and her attendants entered, sweeping a man in black before them. His arm seemed to shift from metal to flesh. He was so busy looking around that he nearly missed seeing his friend. It wasn't until he tripped on the edge of a rug that he looked ahead. At a smile from Frigga, Steve walked quickly to catch Bucky in a bear hug. Frigga, still smiling, dismissed them, and they left the hall to go lay on a hillside in the field.

Steve sat back up to remove his shield and toss it to the side before stretching out under the warm sun, hands behind his head. "How long's it been, Buck?" he asked.

"Almost forty years," Bucky said. "This is really nice. I thought I was going to hell, so this was a very pleasant surprise."

"Buck, you're a good person. You were never going to go to hell," Steve said in affectionate exasperation. "But you're right, it's a nice surprise. I didn't think that this was an option for Earth people, but Odin offered Valhalla and the chance to see you and Emma again. I was going to accept, but Frigga made me a better offer."

"What do you do all day here?" Bucky asked.

"Well there's a battle between between an overprotective father and the guy who stole his daughter away. The hot-headed dad went to war with the husband, and at night the daughter brought to life everybody who'd died in the battle. So naturally, immediately a cycle was born. I tried it once. Don't recommend it. It felt weird."

"What else is there to do?"

"Oh, there's combat, which I do take part in, it's just not to the death. Frigga basically made a deal that if he didn't fuss about me choosing this afterlife she'd make all her warriors available to him at Ragnarok, so it's wise not to get too out of practice. But there are a lot of other things to do as well; Odin took me to Valhalla and it's basically a bunch of guys sitting around killing each other during the day, coming back to life, and drinking all night. What Emma would call a real sausage fest." They laughed. "They have the big name smiths over there, like Wayland, who doesn't believe that a woman could do any work worth mentioning, but there are artistic people over here, who create more than weapons. And there's women."

"Sex in the afterlife? This might not be so bad," Bucky commented. Steve laughed.

"I got laid a couple times," he said, "they're nice women, very enthusiastic, it was fine. But nothing's changed since I was alive. It's just exercise with my dick as a focus unless I feel something for the woman. And there's been nobody who can touch Emma."

Bucky was silent. "I married her," he said simply.

"Odin said," Steve said, nodding. "I was glad to hear it. I wanted both of you to be happy."

"You don't...have a problem with it?"

"No. I mean, yeah, I personally would have preferred to be with her, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't. And the two of you were probably great together too. We'll have to work something out when she gets here." Steve let his friend think about that. "How has she been?" His tone altered with longing.

"Well, up until... a while ago, she was fine. She didn't have a mental decline, which was a huge relief, especially to her." Steve nodded. "Kept her temper, too." Bucky laughed. "She finally retired from everything about six years ago. Kept generations of Avengers on their toes and at least slightly afraid of breaking her stuff at all times." He entertained his friend with stories about Emma, Peter, his wife and daughter, Stark, Thor and Loki as the light softened into twilight.

"Is this a boy's only hillside, or can a gal join too?" a bright voice asked, and both of them twisted until they could see the speaker. She was maybe in her mid-thirties, with thick streaks of silver in her abundant dark hair, her skin looking oddly thin and translucent. She smiled at them and in an instant, Steve was off the ground, plastering her to him in a hug. Bucky climbed to his feet more leisurely, and joined them in a three-way hug. When Steve kissed her, passionately, he stepped back. He didn't actually mind knowing that Steve was going to claim her affections too; almost forty years of marriage had assured him of her feelings, but he wasn't into watching. He planned on giving them time to catch up. After all, they'd had sex at least twice a week throughout the duration of their relationship, tapering off only toward the end. And at the beginning, it had been almost nightly, so yeah, he could afford to be generous, he thought complacently. But he kissed her enthusiastically when it was his turn.

"Didn't expect to see you so soon, doll," Bucky said, examining her face.

"Didn't see much point in sticking around with both of you gone, angel," she said, smiling. He smiled back and rested his forehead against hers.

Their reunion was interrupted by one of Frigga's handmaidens, summoning them to dine. Emma was seated at the right hand of the goddess, Steve and Bucky on her other side, and they were introduced to the company. As the meal was served, Emma leaned over and said to Steve and Bucky, "Odin's been telling people you're in Valhalla. Apparently there's some sort of free-exchange treaty between the two afterlifes, so he's stretching the truth a bit."

Frigga laughed, and they turned toward her respectfully. "He was so counting on having you join his army," she said affectionately. "He does hate losing, even to me. Well, in the end, all will know the truth." Then Frigga monopolized Emma's attention, asking questions about her life and skills all through the dinner. Afterward, there was music for dancing, but Bucky wanted to adjust to his new reality, and Steve was eager to reacquaint himself with Emma, so they departed discreetly.

After their initial explosive encounter, Steve carefully rolled them over so that he could keep touching her, playing with her hair. "I've never seen you with dark hair," he said. She took a lock of it and tickled his nose with it, and he laughed with the joy of being teased once again.

"I look like I did when I was in my early thirties, before the accident," she said, kissing his chest and snuggling in to listen to his heartbeat contentedly. "I'm really pleased, overall, this was the time in my life where I liked how I looked the most."

He stroked the skin at the corner of her eye gently. "I like how you still have expression lines here from smiling. And your skin is so different."

"I didn't realize how much the condition changed the look of it," she admitted. "But apparently, it's the appearance that's changed, not the reality of it. Or what passes for reality here. It's kind of confusing to think about that because I know I'm dead and this is the afterlife, so it seems weird to refer to it as reality, but it is..." she halted and drew a deep breath. "At any rate, Frigga assured me that I was still fireproof and puncture proof and that I had all the abilities that I had at my death, just in a younger-looking package. Fortunately, because I broke my femur last year and I've had to use a freaking walker the past seven months. So irritating."

"How old were you?" Steve asked idly. "Bucky said it had been around forty years since I died. Time seems different here. It doesn't feel like it's been that long."

"I was 95," she said with satisfaction. "Just past my birthday. You do know that Bucky and I married, right?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I was glad that you chose him," he assured her. "I wanted both of you to be happy, and preferentially together. We talked about it a bit. We'll work something out between us, because I don't think you'd want to give either of us up."

"You're right about that," she said, squeezing her muscles around him. He groaned and she sat up with a devilish look on her face. "I love Bucky too, but neither of you is interchangeable with the other. I want you both to be happy, and if it means that I have to sleep with both of you, I guess that's a price I'll just have to pay." He laughed as she started to move on him, drinking her in in wonder. She was still lovely in this younger form, still his sweetheart. But her skin was different, she seemed to be able to feel his touches more. And it was so beautiful, flawless to his eyes.

"Oh, Steve, I missed you," she murmured after.

"Now I feel like I can really start enjoying myself," he said. "Together again with you and Buck. I wondered sometimes if maybe you'd choose somebody different. Maybe Stark."

"Ew," she said immediately. "No, I never trusted him enough to try. He and Con were together for another couple years after you died," she shuddered and he felt her skin actually crawl. "But after that broke up, he never had another relationship. Company when he wanted, sure, but not a relationship." They talked about others, catching up on decades of gossip, with special emphasis on Peter and his family, one of her favorite topics.

The next morning after breakfast, the three of them relaxed in a pile under a tree. Emma's skin was so fair, neither of the men wanted to risk her getting a sunburn, if such a thing was possible in Folkvangr. Frigga came upon them. "Emma, if you have a moment..." She extricated herself from her men and stood. "I have some thoughts," the goddess said. "The Captain has said you enjoyed gardening. I feel that my hall is too plain. Perhaps you could improve the... what do you call it? The landscape. And this way is a forge for you, I had it modeled on your memories of a structure you had in the state of Washington..." Her voice trailed away as the goddess, arm linked with Emma, towed her off in a new direction.

The men looked at each other and started to laugh. They tapered off when Odin stomped up to them, asking if they knew the whereabouts of Frigga.

"She's showing Emma her new forge," Steve said politely.

"Curses!" Odin sputtered. "I'd hoped to entice her to Valhalla with a forge of her own... Which way did they go?" he barked, and Bucky pointed. He arrowed off.

"Odin's not used to not getting his own way," Bucky observed. "It'll be interesting to see him adjust his thinking." Steve grinned.

"The irresistible force is about to meet the immovable object again," he said. "If Stark couldn't get her to bend, Odin has no chance. Maybe we should find out where Frigga wants those gardens," he suggested. Bucky's eyes lit.

"We should offer to help," he said demurely, and offered his friend a hand up. The afterlife was starting to look a lot more lively.