A/N: Hello all! This is a republishing and heavily re-edited version of my previous story Heart of Dust. This story is set between the events of The Avengers and The Winter Soldier, and will eventually build up to and possibly continue through the second film. There may be some cameo appearances by other members of the Avengers, but I think that it still needs to go in the Cap archive. I would love to hear your thoughts! :D
As always, read and enjoy :)
Captain Steve Rogers prided himself on being prepared for nearly any situation.
When Nick Fury called him in that morning, however, he really didn't know what to think. He knew that if he was being summoned, nothing good could be happening. Bucky would have accused him of being a pessimist and frankly, he wouldn't have argued with him. Seventy years trapped in ice and missing your first date with the woman of your dreams would do that to a man.
He strode through the sliding door of a spacious conference room, somewhere deep underground in the SHIELD building situated in the heart of DC. His boots fell heavily against the nondescript carpet. He wasn't certain where exactly underground they were; not even a hero was privy to every piece of information. Out of habit, he took stock of the room. It was sparsely furnished, a large, well-polished table in the center with black leather office chairs arranged around it. Besides the screen on the far wall, and the small consoles at each chair, that was it. No windows, no glass, no potted plants; aside from the barrenness, it could have been mistaken for an office in any building in the city. Well, besides the fact that it was underground, and the director of SHIELD was sitting at its head in all of his brooding, leather glory.
Fury's hands were steepled in front of him as he leaned back in his chair, his face as impassive as always. His good eye met the Captain's silent stare evenly, shifting a finger to point at a nearby chair to his right.
"Have a seat, Cap."
Steve shrugged off his brown leather jacket before he folded his tall frame into the small leather chair, linking his fingers together over the button-down, blue plaid shirt that covered his muscled stomach and leaning back slightly. He didn't bother to ask why he was here. Fury would either tell him or he wouldn't, but either way, he had no doubt that it was some sort of detail that SHIELD needed performed quickly and quietly. After all, he thought, sore, what else was he these days other than a glorified janitor for the organization?
Silently, Fury slid a file across the expanse of the table, the word Boudicca emblazoned across the front flap. Steve was silently relieved that it was paper he was being handed. The technology these days was amazing, and efficient, but nothing felt so good as honest to God paper in his hands. It was real and solid, and swiftly becoming nostalgic. Maybe he was getting as old as everyone seemed to think of him as. He shrugged the thought off as he opened the manilla folder.
He scanned over the neatly typed pages, a frown pulling at his lips. Pictures of a massive dig site were carefully dispersed midst the report, which was frankly less than informative. It said nothing about SHIELD per se, and at first glance, it seemed like an academically funded project. At least, unless your eye caught on the tech they were using in some of the photos. He didn't know much a whole lot about the advances made while he was in the ice, but he doubted much had changed in the way of university funding; there was no way they could afford equipment like that. And while it might be common practice to have guards stationed around the dig to scare away potential looters, the men he could see were clearly well-trained, their sidearms gleaming even in the washed-out colors of the printed pictures. Not the typical locals someone might hire.
Since when was SHIELD interested in archeology? More than likely, whatever they'd dug up, it was either for a specific purpose or someone else had stumbled across it. Either scenario was in the realm of possibility. And, if Fury had sent for him, this 'archaeological find' was probably related to him in some way, though what that could be, he wasn't certain. Maybe it was another HYDRA weapon?
"So," he said, closing the file and tossing it next the the screen in front of him. "what's this got to do with me? Your people disturb ol' Boris from his sleep and he cursed you?"
His tone was dry, but the thought had crossed Steve's mind that that might be the case. Considering what had happened in New York last year, he was willing to believe damned near anything. When Fury remained silent for another moment, Steve seriously began to entertain the idea. Finally, the director pressed his finger to the sleek console at his fingertip, a series of quiet beeps echoing his motions. A screen lit up in front of him and the soldier started. Damn, he was never going to get used to that. The director made a sweeping motion with his hand and suddenly the wall behind him glowed.
Steve glanced down with a mild scowl. He had barely gotten the hang of a typewriter before he enlisted, and he was expected to just master the mysteries of this weird, florescent text just hovering in the air? Clumsily, he slid a large finger across the screen, the furrow of his brow deepening when nothing happened. Catching his movement out of the corner of his eye, Fury casually leaned over, tapped at the console and it shifted.
Then he straightened and stood, turning to the wall that had been illuminated, tugging at a single photograph and creating a 3D model, which he tossed to the center of the table.
"This, is Project Boudicca and it's why you're here."
Steve looked at the image curiously. It looked like a great stone box, and what he thought might be letters in a language he didn't recognize running across its rugged and chipped surface. Tilting his head, Steve squinted, trying to make out the words. Fury was a step ahead of him, however, fiddling with the model before making an expanding gesture. The script was pulled forward and up, mirroring his motions, floating gently above the box's surface. With a swipe of his finger, he made the assumed letters larger and easier to read. With a final touch, he lifted a tiny device from his pocket and held it in front of the display. It made a whirling noise, followed by more beeping. The director brought the new image out of the small piece of technology and placed it over the other symbols. They morphed into the alphabet that Steve recognized easily, though the language was still indecipherable, in his opinion.
Tá mé an glór an domhain. Tá mé an t-amhrán de na crainn. Tá mé an deannaigh go bhfuil dearmad am.
Steve read the words carefully, slowly, but they meant nothing to him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's Irish Gaelic, or some older form of it. We had it translated. Loosely, we think it says, 'I am the voice of the earth. I am the song in the trees. I am the dust that time has forgotten'."
Steve let out a snort.
"Poetic."
Fury didn't comment, instead motioning to the box that loomed just behind the text.
"Look closely at that box, Steve. What does it look like to you?"
Steve let his eyes wander over the structure. Feeling a bit more secure after watching Fury carefully, he lifted his hand and made a spinning motion, causing the image to rotate. He did some estimations in his head, trying to figure out what a large container like that could hold.
"It's a coffin," he realized.
"Exactly."
Fury began to pace the room, slowly circling the table and its occupant.
"Are you familiar with the excavation at Sutton Hoo, in Suffolk, England?"
Steve shook his head.
"Sorry. I might be living history, but it never was my strongest subject." There was only the faintest trace of ironic humor in his tone.
"In a nutshell, it was a site discovered by a farmer in his field almost twenty years ago. There were a lot of artifacts discovered out there, along with some pretty astonishing leaps made in piecing together more information about the Celts that lived in the area, around the fourth, fifth century."
As Fury spoke, images superimposed themselves over the coffin, showing aerial photos of a dig site even larger than the one he'd just looked at. The director continued.
"We, meaning humanity, know very little about that civilization and the artifacts that were found shed some light on a very dark part of our history. But, as most things go, we still have questions."
"Don't you always?" Again, a faint tinge of sarcasm colored his voice.
"I've found it to be a useful practice," Fury replied calmly before continuing, his hand trailing the back of an empty chair, "The history books argue on a number of points regarding that time period. There are few written accounts and those are most definitely questionable. The one thing that we can determine is a fact is that there's no one reliable source of information that has ever been found to date. Until now."
Fury gestured to the floating stone casket before minimizing it completely and pulling forward a digital map. Photographs began to flash more clearly as he shifted his hand.
"Two months ago, a group of graduate students and their professor stumbled across a sunken chamber in the county of Somerset, England, near Glastonbury."
Steve bit his cheek to keep from making another comment, and instead focused his attention forward. A shot of three grinning young people waved at the camera while a white-haired man with a full beard stood behind them with a wide smile. They were standing in front of a large, oblong green hill. Just behind them, Steve could make out what looked to be a gaping hole that had been torn into the base of it. The next picture was a close up, revealing an ancient looking set of steps that steadily, if unevenly, marched down into darkness.
"There are a number of legends, myths, that pervade the area and have for centuries," Fury continued, gesturing, "Most have been discounted as just that, myths, and little evidence has ever supported even the most probable of theories. Of course, we've learned a bit about dismissing the unknown or unseen as nonexistent. But this discovery held the potential to perhaps alter the more common, global view, at least up until Loki's attack on New York."
Steve interrupted then.
"If nothing else, that sarcophagus is proof that these Celts had an alphabet, perhaps even the first one created after the Latin the Romans developed and used." Fury lifted a brow and Steve flushed. "I said it wasn't my strongest subject. Doesn't mean I don't know anything about it, or about the fact that a discovery like that would have had at least a small segment in the news."
The director only offered a small shake of his head.
"That wouldn't have been the wisest idea."
He flicked at the display and Steve had to fight his instinct to look away.
A chamber was dimly illuminated in a soft green glow, dank-looking, darkly pigmented walls stained with what could only be blood. Body parts were scattered on the floor, flesh and fabric still clinging to the remnants of what had once been people. He recognized the older man, his neck severed from the rest of him, bland, fish like eyes staring up at nothing, his features forever frozen in an expression of awful surprise. In the center of it all was the coffin, its surface glimmering and even from just a still, Steve could sense power.
Fury turned off the images, returning the box to its former position.
"This artifact that these unfortunate people found was shielded by some kind of energy, unlike anything we've ever encountered. We managed to recover it, but so far, our attempts to open it haven't been very successful. The force field around the casket may be sentient, or it may just be some kind of ancient technology programmed to attack when it perceives a threat. We're not sure. So we sealed it in one of our most secure vaults, until such time that we could try again. However, last week, it began to behave...strangely."
Steve glanced over, his forefinger and thumb resting against his chin.
"What do you mean?"
The director swiped his hand and a video popped up on the wall. The footage was shaky and a little blurry, but Steve could make out that someone, no, several someones, were navigating their way through a maze of crates and covered objects. The sound was scratchy, suggesting the video was definitely low quality, but he could still hear a low humming noise. A man's voice came through, clearly asking a question, but he couldn't make out the words. The figure in front of him shook his head and waved his hand, signaling to move forward. The humming got louder and Steve focused his attention on one corner of the screen. He pointed.
"There, to the left. It's that same glow."
Sure enough, the figures rounded a corner, light escaping from tiny cracks in a large steel container. A surge of some type of energy crackled and danced over the metal surface, illuminating the letters:
SHIELD DANGER
Feeling apprehensive, he made himself watch, looking for clues or hints that might reveal the nature of the thing that the archaeologists uncovered. Another surge flashed as one man apparently got too close. It flickered and struck out like a bolt of lightning, bursting through the unlucky operative's chest in a shower of blood and gore. It lashed again, like a whip that coiled and flailed, striking another man whose scream reverberated in the dead silence of the conference room. There was a gasp, followed by a whimpering sound as the energy sizzled again, drawing in on itself, the cameraman backing away before dropping the recorder and obviously running for his life. Steve doubted that he made it because there was another scream just before the video blacked out.
"We lost four good men," Fury said in a quiet tone that Steve resented mightily. He wanted to ask about the first three victims, why SHIELD hadn't protected them, but he held his tongue, listening. "The box was moved after that and brought here for study. Now, that's where you come in."
He turned to regard each of them with his good eye, his voice hard as galvanized steel.
"I would greatly appreciate if you were present while we take a closer look at this thing."
Steve leaned back, re knitting his fingers together.
"To find out why it killed your men or to find out how?"
Maybe he'd been out of the service too long, asking a question like that, but then, he'd never really been one for blindly following orders. His association with SHIELD had made him even less prone. After finding those weapons on the helicarrier, he wouldn't put it past them to try and weaponize this thing, whatever it was. The director gave him a speculative glance before narrowing his gaze.
"Because when we open this thing up, I want to be damned sure we aren't losing any more people."
Well that wasn't evasive at all.
So Steve found himself standing beside a diminutive doctor in a well-shielded, very secluded laboratory deep underground, well beneath even the main base. Another scientist was in the other room, beyond a thick pane of bulletproof glass, and was circling the sarcophagus, search lights bright as they focused on the sarcophagus, illuminating the weathered rock. Hooking his thumbs in the loops of his belt, Steve let his gaze move between the two scientists, feeling absolutely useless. Screens beeped, machines whirled and hummed around him, and the other members of the team might as well have been speaking in the tongue carved into the white stone they were examining.
"Sandstone composition is average, nothing unusual there," the second man's voice came over the speaker, his tone thoughtful, "No strange alloys present that I can detect."
"What about the energy field?" the first scientist asked.
"From what I can gather, it's not extraterrestrial and it's not magnetic, although the charge readings are off the charts. Hmmm...whatever is surrounding this thing is powerful, but I'm more concerned with why it isn't attacking me standing so close to it."
"Good question," Steve commented, trying to get a foot in on the conversation, "Maybe it's an entity of some sort?"
"If it was, don't you think it would have responded by now?" the doctor asked.
"That wasn't a response when it fried those guys?" he countered, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tightened his grip on his jeans.
No one answered him and he found himself silently grinding his teeth. These two had been stonewalling him for the last hour. They obviously knew more than he did about the project, and normally, that might not have bothered him. But suspicions were niggling at the back of his mind. Something wasn't right. Hell, nothing was right, and everything about it went against what he'd been trained. Either everyone was on the same page or somebody got killed. You couldn't protect your buddy's back if your head was somewhere else.
The man in the other room spoke up and interrupted his thoughts.
"I have a theory that it's something else. It's like a motion sensing barrier, or, more precisely, an intention sensing barrier."
"That still suggests sentience."
"Not really. A field made of relatively dormant psionic energy isn't that far-fetched these days, now is it?"
Steve scowled, but kept his mouth shut; no point in mentioning that they were acting like he wasn't even there. Frankly, he almost agreed with them that he had no place here too. He didn't know if there was anything he could do if the box started up again, not stuck here and denied access to it. He was about as useful as a bump on a damned log, but the thought of what SHIELD wanted to do with this thing made him stay. Biting back a sigh, he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. Jesus, working with these people were starting to color his thinking in ways he didn't want to admit. Or maybe it was the fact that he was so out of his own time. Either way, long-term had never been much of a consideration before.
He watched with detachment as the scientist lifted an arm, the telltale blue light of a scanning device blinking as he slowly swiveled his torso back and forth. Nothing happened and the man dared to take a step closer.
The box remained dull and lifeless. His machine in his hand began a rapid blinking.
"What's he doing?" Steve asked the shorter man at his side, lifting his chin to gesture at the glass.
His companion tapped the screen in front of him with a blunt finger.
"He's performing an X-ray."
"Holy mother of-"
"What? what?" Steve asked quickly, leaning over the doctor's shoulder as the other man's eyes widened in tandem with the second scientist's cut-off curse.
"There's-there's something inside the sarcophagus," the first one murmured, his fingers skimming over the keys in front of him.
With a flick of his wrist, he brought up another display, pointing at a large bluish blob.
"Right there, can you see it?"
Steve shook his head.
"Looks like a splotch to me, Doc."
He manipulated the image, expanding portions, trying to clean up the picture. Even after several heartbeats, it still looked like little more than a giant blob of lighter color than the stone encasing it. A startled grunt distracted him however and he jerked his head up. The other man was backing away from the coffin as it let out a low, steady humming sound.
"What the hell?"
"Get out of there!" Steve barked.
Before either of the other two men could reply, the ornately carved lid of the coffin began to move, a grinding sound echoing the hum of what Steve could only assume was the energy shield deactivating. Slowly, the crack on the top of the casket widened and the Captain could see that same greenish glow softly flickering inside. But he felt frozen; his limbs didn't want to move. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the ever expanding gap. Finally, the lid slid off, falling to the concrete floor with a loud crash.
The interior of the box darkened as its cover fell away, only revealing a deep, gloomy-looking interior. The scientist in the room with it waited for several breaths before he started to approach again, his voice soft.
"The energy signature is gone. It's just a box now, but I'm getting readings that there's something with a pulse in there."
That made Steve feel even more on edge when he noticed movement coming from the sarcophagus.
"Can you tell what it is?" he asked quietly.
"It seems...human."
The man's steps brought him to the edge of the coffin and he peered inside, the bulbs over the helmet's eyes lighting the interior of the casket.
"It's a body. Not moving and wrapped in a burial shroud, I think. Wait-"
He leaned closer and Steve strove to be able to see, waiting as the tension tightened in his gut.
"Let me see if I can-"
He didn't finish the sentence, carefully reaching inside and gently unwrapping the cloth where the head would be. Steve heard him let out a surprised breath.
"Captain, get a medic, now!"