Steampunk II - the Steve/Diana story - Part I

[icarus_chained]

Right. This is the result of three things, really. 1 - I promised Bradygirl birthday fic. 2 - she expressed interest in seeing Steve and Diana in this world. 3 ... I'm just honestly not over this story yet. But! This is only about a two or three-parter, or so (you know how good I am at those estimates) and the chapters are shorter. Like, half the size. In short, a much ... smaller endeavour. Forgive me.

Also, I am very unfamiliar with Steve. Someone will tell me if I've gotten him terribly wrong, yes?

For bradygirl_12 

Title:  Angel of Glory
Rating:  PG-13
Characters/Pairings:  Steve/Diana. Arthur, Diana, Steve and Lois this chapter.
Summary:  Luthor's gambit has changed the world, his influence still strong. New forces have been brought into play, old ones changed forever. And in the midst of all this, one lost and betrayed soldier tries to cope with a world that has changed since he left it, and find again the woman who brought him back to it. A woman who is fully intent on finding him in return.
Chapter summary:  Getting bearings
Wordcount:  2317
Disclaimer:  Characters are not mine. World very much is.

Steampunk II : Angel of Glory

Part I

 

 

Arthur stared out the window, over his seas to the salvage operation still underway at Gotham's grounding site, and over the wrecks of the battle fleets. Some forty-six ships had been recovered or identified so far, with maybe another twenty evidenced by unidentifiable wreckage. What little remained of the crews of those vessels ... those that belonged to Metropolis had been returned to her. Those that belonged to Gotham had been given to the seas, as her people had asked. And those that couldn't be identified as either ... well, the sea welcomes all into her embrace in the end.

He was mildly concerned that there had been no sign of anyone resembling Luthor, or his bodyguard, anywhere near the wreck of the battlecruiser. His people had searched the currents, the sea, their territory, but so far neither hide nor hair of him had been found. Of course, he could have been destroyed if he'd been in the direct path of the beam, but ...

In the room behind him, someone groaned gently, a sound of waking, and Arthur put aside thoughts of the traitor to turn to his guest. His back to the window, framed by the sea, he watched her as she slowly came to.

The woman was no mere mortal, no human. He knew that much. More, he was pretty sure he knew where she hailed from, too. But it had been so long since the children of Themyscira had been seen in Man's World, as they called it, that he couldn't be sure. Certainly not since the Upheaval, and the judgement on mankind. The Amazons had retreated utterly from the world after that, after Man's World had seemed to finally be judged unworthy by greater powers. But ... no other being on Earth that he could think of could have survived being crushed under the entire weight of the stricken battlecruiser, could have managed at the same time to shield the human found in her arms ...

Though that, too, cast doubt on the analysis. For an Amazon to be found with a man in her arms, shielding him at the cost of herself ... Now that would be a rare occurrence indeed. But this woman, this battered warrior ... perhaps she was simply a rare woman.

He watched her open her eyes, watched alertness flood into her countenance, awareness of all that had happened. And then, as she registered his presence in the room ... the transition from wounded woman to wary warrior was frankly impressive. She rolled off the bed into a crouched fighting stance in an instant, her wild black hair sweeping over bandaged shoulders, her eyes calm, cool, and assessing.

"Man," she greeted, coldly. "Where am I?"

Arthur shook his head, folding his arms as he glared at her in reproach. "Arthur," he corrected, repressively. "My name is Arthur, King of Atlantis. Well met, Amazon?"

She blinked at him, processing his claim to royalty at precisely the same speed as she processed the fact that he knew what she was. Her eyes narrowed on his face for a long instant, assessing and dangerous, and then ... she straightened, nodding, and bowed a little in apology. "Atlantean," she repeated. "Arthur. Forgive me. I am Diana, princess of Themyscira."

He echoed the gesture, and smiled slightly. "Princess. Welcome to the West Atlantis Tower."

She frowned, glancing out the window behind him, seeing the darting water-ships of the salvage operation, and recognising them for what they were. She looked at them, and then at him, the conclusion obvious in her eyes.

"You ... rescued me?" she asked, slowly, her blue eyes greying with storms as she remembered what had happened to her. And as he nodded, a frission of panic ran through her, and she turned rapidly in place as if seeking something of untold importance. She scanned the empty room, turning back to him, something between panic and fury in her features. "Where is he?" she asked, stepping forward, her hands unconsciously clenched. "Where is he?"

"The soldier?" Arthur asked, gently, loosening his own stance in case he should have to fight her. Seeing the unconscious grace of her movements, he doubted it was something he would want to do. "The man you saved?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, still approaching him, still moving, hope flaring in her eyes. "Steve! Where is he?"

Arthur shook his head sadly, wondering at the depth of emotion she showed, wondering at the caring of an Amazon for a soldier of Man's World. "I'm sorry," he said, gently. "He is alive, but not here. He was sent to Metropolis, as part of an agreement with her new Lord. Any survivors of Luthor's battlefleet were to be handed over to Metropolis, to face judgement." His own face darkened, all the rage and confusion of the last battle filling him all over again, and he frowned heavily. He did not disagree with the sentiment.

Diana stared at him, understanding what he said, understanding what he meant, her eyes wild and fierce. For a second, she stood there, her fists shaking as if she yearned to strike something, to fight, to defend what mattered to her. But she couldn't. Not yet. And then, suddenly, she calmed. She calmed, and straightened, her eyes the cool calm of a strategist at work. She turned away from him, searching the room once more, reaching out to touch her clothes and sword where they lay at the end of the bed, the quiet gleam of a golden lasso. She picked them up, weighed the weapon in her hands, resolution settling over her like the weight of a blade. When she turned back to him, it was an Amazon warrior he faced, in all her brutal glory.

"Where can I find this Metropolis?" she asked, quietly, firmly. He shook his head, seeing her injuries, seeing a woman recently fished unconscious and battered from the sea. But he did not say anything, because he knew it would not matter. Not to this woman. Not to this Amazon.

"She's drifting over the Mid Atlantic Ridge," he answered. "She's got repairs underway, a full inspection of the silver in her Ramparts, and the reintegration of stolen silver. Not to mention political repairs. She won't be moving for a while, so you shouldn't have difficulty finding her." Diana nodded, already unfolding her cloak, shrugging out of the sleepshirt she'd been given with all the modesty of a warrior in a hurry. Arthur hastily looked aside, but continued. "I would warn you, though," he said softly, and sensed her stillness as she paused to listen. "I would not challenge this Lord lightly. Even were I an Amazon."

She turned to him then, half-dressed, her sword in her hand, an air of quietude about her, a heavy certainty. "I do not challenge anyone lightly," she said, her blue eyes fierce and sad. "But I did not fight to return him to Man's World only to see him destroyed because someone thinks he tried to help the man that almost killed him. Metropolis owes a debt to him, and I will see it paid."

Arthur said nothing, watching in silence as she finished her preparations, walked to the window and leapt out to soar into the skies. He stood in the sea breeze to watch her find her bearings, to watch an Amazon Princess set out to hunt, and smiled grimly. Luthor had been a powerful man, he mused. A powerful, arrogant man, and the force of him had catalyzed such changes in this world, brought to bear such powerful forces. Power draws power, after all. The Nightlord, the Commander. Lord Lois. Himself. And now, through a soldier of Metropolis, an Amazon herself, a force long thought lost to Man's World.

He'd better find the bastard, before he brought something else to bear on this beleaguered planet. Power draws power. But it seeks it, too.

---

 

Luthor'd gotten polite since he'd been gone, Steve thought absently as a nice young MCDF woman let him into the Interview Hall. No chains or kicks or anything. Not even a rude comment to keep him going, though that young lady's disapproving frown had been quite impressive. Not even his best smile had made a dent in it. He was mildly disappointed by that. He'd gotten too used to someone smiling at him.

The door closed heavily behind him. That at least was the same. Luthor'd liked the impressive effect the thud of it had, the effect of being trapped it evoked. Lovely man, had he mentioned that? But ... nothing else in the room was anywhere near as familiar. Most especially not the person sitting in what had been colloquially called 'The Throne' in his day.

She was the wrong gender, for a start.

Lord Lois Lane looked down at him as he stood staring at her, something that might have been a smile on her face, her chin resting easily on her hand. She was alone in the room, with none of the guards that had followed Luthor everywhere he went, looking completely unfazed despite the fact that someone had neglected to cuff Steve's hands. Not that he would have attacked her, but still. He blinked up at her, and for no reason at all found himself grinning irrepressibly.

"Something amusing?" she asked, raising her head from her hand to look at him properly, wearing that phantom smile that he remembered, dimly, from her days as dataqueen. Not a woman you forgot easily, was Lois Lane. Steve shook his head a little, thinking that he seemed to run into a lot of unforgettable women these days.

"Nothing, my Lady," he answered cheerfully. "Just admiring the change of scenery, is all. Much improved, in my opinion."

She smiled properly then, firming her hands on the arms of the Throne so she could lever herself out of it, her head tipped quizzically to the side as she prowled slowly towards him. Steve watched her carefully, wary despite it all. The day hadn't exactly been good so far.

"Lord," she said abruptly, and her smile took on a razor edge as he blinked in confusion. "It's Lord Lane, actually. I expected better from you, Lieutenant Trevor."

"Lord," he echoed, blankly. Then, surrendering to his mischievous urge, gave her a devilish grin, and said with absolute innocence: "It suits you, ma'am."

She laughed. A real laugh, with actual humour. In Steve's book, that was a pretty good sign. In his experience, the only people who laughed like that before they killed you tended to be sociopaths, and as far as he could tell, Lord Lane wasn't. So he was probably going to come out of this with his neck intact, if he played his cards right. And hopefully his freedom, too. He had to get back, after all. He had to find his angel.

"Oh, very good," Lois said, as her laugh died naturally away. "Well said, Lt. But lets shelve the humour for a minute, shall we?" She was serious again all of a sudden, and Steve suppressed a swallow.

"But you're pretty when you laugh," he offered, a token protest, and simply nodded when she arched an eyebrow. "Fair enough. I'm gonna guess you want to ask me a few things?"

"Now there's an understatement," the Lord of Metropolis murmured, and turned away from him to start pacing in short arcs in front of him. Steve watched her in bemusement and some trepidation. "You see," she continued, abruptly, pausing in her pacing to study him, "the King of Atlantis doesn't have access to Metropolis records. At least, I'm almost sure he doesn't." She frowned a little, musingly, then dismissed it. "So he sent you to me on the assumption that you had been found near the battlecruiser because you were part of its crew, because you were one of Luthor's men. Which he may be right about, but we'll see." She noted his instinctive growl, and nodded slightly.

"But I am not the Sea King," she continued, softly, her eyes never leaving his face. "And information is my business. So I know, Lieutenant, that you were a member of an elite flying unit, Luthor's own test pilots. I know you were listed MIA in a plane crash at some undisclosed location in the Mediterranean. I know that was six months ago, and that there has been no word of you since. I know, in essence, that you had no business whatsoever to be anywhere near that wreck." Her gaze bored into him, the considering intelligence of her regard an unsettling weight. "What I do not know," she finished softly. "Is how, despite all this, you managed to end up there anyway ..."

She trailed off, letting the weight of the pause ask the question, letting the silence prompt his response. She'd have made a good interrogator, he thought, meeting her gaze calmly, a rueful smile on his tired features.

"I could tell you that, sure ..." he said slowly, and watched as she arched an eyebrow.

"I sense a 'but' coming," she observed wryly, and he smiled a little, shaking his head.

"I could tell you," he repeated. "But I really don't think you're going to believe me. And I wouldn't want you to think I was lying to you. I've a feeling that would be a bad idea." She smiled sharply. He looked at her, thinking of all he'd been through, of an island paradise, of warrior women, of goddesses and magic. Of his angel, and despite the fear, despite the worry, the thought of her still made him smile. He thought of all that, and thought of the world he'd left behind, Luthor's world of fear and paranoia and raw disbelief. Shaking his head sadly, he looked back up at the woman in front of him.

"I really don't think you'll believe me," he finished softly, wearily. And his Lord smiled gently at him, and sat down of the steps of the dais, putting her chin in her hands, her expression surprisingly gentle.

"Try me," she said, quietly.

And Steve thought, what the hell?