Chapter Text
"Cap, can you tell Barnes to stop wiggling his ass?" said Stark over the comms. "He's distracting me, and I'm on a mission critical task." Steve turned around, cleaning dust from his visor with his sleeve, to where Barnes was wiping down the solar panels and doing a little dance that managed to be strangely sensual - and completely unprofessional - despite his bulky space suit.
"I've never successfully persuaded Barnes to stop doing anything, Stark," he replied through gritted teeth, turning back to where he was staking out the ground for soil sample collection. "Eyes on your work."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," said Barnes, shaking his booty more forcefully. "This is my patented method for optimal solar panel cleansing procedure - it makes my movements more efficient and gives me a full-body workout."
"Heaven forbid you skip leg day," murmured Romanoff dryly, the smirk evident in her voice even over the crackly helmet speakers.
"If Barnes' thighs get any more muscular we're gonna have to let out his space suit," said Stark. "Bruce, can you use your tailoring expertise to accommodate the junk in Barnes' trunk?"
"I'm not that kind of materials specialist, but I can look into it," said Banner mildly.
"This is bordering on sexual harassment. As soon as we get back to Earth, I'm going straight to HR."
Inside the Habitat, Romanoff was monitoring the weather situation (with her feet up on the console, Steve assumed), Banner was analyzing rock samples in the lab and Barton was doing... something in the bio-chamber that had better not involve interfering with Steve's moss experiments or so help him.
The other three of them were out on the Mars surface, working on the chores that necessitated the long process of pulling on space suits and making their way outside. It wasn't dangerous, precisely - at least, not more dangerous than was usual for space travel - it was just tedious as hell. Stark was out here because he didn't trust anyone else to interact with his precious rovers, and Steve was taking soil samples for his own botanical experiments. Barnes, because he was an unprofessional jackass who was completely incapable of taking anything seriously, was there because he had lost a bet with Barton over who could do the most somersaults and had to take over his solar panel maintenance duties for a week.
Ideally, Steve would not have chosen Barnes for his crew. Ideally, Steve would never have spent more than an hour with Barnes in his entire life because the man was infuriating, no matter how well he filled out his space suit.
"Guys, we've got incoming," said Romanoff, breaking in over the comms. "That storm we were expecting? It's coming down on us sooner than we thought. Like, now. And it's bad."
"Copy that," said Steve, straightening. "Back to the Hab, everyone."
"We're not talking back to the Hab, Cap," she replied grimly. "We've gotta get to the ascent vehicle before this thing knocks it over for good. We've got five minutes, max."
"Fuck," Steve hissed with feeling. "Barton, Banner, Romanoff, suit up and head to the MAV. Barnes, Stark, we're checking the fuel lines before takeoff. We don't want anything going wrong during an emergency evac."
The crew set to their tasks, bickering forgotten with the urgency of their exit from the surface before the storm truly hit. With forced determination, the three suited astronauts traced the fuel lines on the exterior of the ascent vehicle, looking for leaks and checking the connections.
"Fuel line zero is operational," said Tony.
"One through five are operational as well," confirmed Steve.
"There's a problem with six," said Barnes, his voice sounding strained. "Uh, I think it's a big problem, Cap."
Barton, Romanoff and Banner piled out of the Hab, speeding towards them in their bulky suits. "What's the problem?" asked Banner breathlessly, peering over Barnes' shoulder to look at the system of pipes.
"The four of you, get inside the vehicle and start preparing for takeoff," said Steve, assessing the damage. "Barnes and I can fix the fuel line, and I want you to be ready to leave as soon as we get inside."
"Aye aye, Cap," said Tony, climbing in through the spacecraft's doors and sketching out a salute that looked more casual than his strained voice belied.
"Barnes, I need you to lift this tank and hold it while I screw the connections back together, OK?"
"OK," said Barnes, all business, as he squatted to heave up the heavy tank. Steve made short work of the plumbing, securing the tank back in place in very little time.
"Report on fuel line six," barked Steve into his microphone.
"All fuel lines are operational, Cap," said Romanoff. "Now get your asses back in here, we are ready for lift-off."
Clapping Barnes on the shoulder and breathing a sigh of relief, Steve turned to begin their ascent up the ladder into the spacecraft.
The solar panel that slammed into their bodies took them completely by surprise.
"Rogers? Barnes?" said Romanoff's frantic voice over the comms. "Do you read me?"
"They've been hit by debris, they've been thrown a hundred yards north," said Tony, inspecting his wrist computer as he unbuckled his harness. "I can reach them but I'm gonna need a tether."
"Rogers' suit is registering a breach, the pressure is dropping," read Barton from the screen in front of him. "Neither of their bio-monitors is registering any life signs. I don't - I don't think you're gonna find them alive out there."
"That can't be right," frowned Tony, looking over Barton's shoulder.
"This thing is gonna tip over if we don't get off the ground in the next thirty seconds," said Banner, typing rapidly at his control panel. "What do we do, Tony?"
"What? Who left me in charge?"
"NASA did," snapped Romanoff. "Guys, we don't have time for retrieval mission. Are we sure they're dead?"
"Yes," said Barton grimly. "There's no way they could have survived the impact, and I'm getting negative readings from all of their life sensors."
"Right," Stark forced out, buckling himself back in. "Banner, let's get this thing in the air. I don't want to risk the rest of you as well."
"OK," said Banner. "Everyone hold on. Thrusters ready, prepare for takeoff."
The rest of their journey back up into orbit to intercept the Shield space vessel was spent in sombre silence, apart from communications necessary for piloting the MAV. Even loquacious Stark was plunged into grim, quiet reflection.
They trudged aboard the ship after docking, and after programming in their course, sat around the table in their shared kitchen, staring at the floor.
Romanoff, ever the Russian, pulled a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and poured a cup for each of them.
"To Steve and Bucky," she said somberly, raising her drink.
"Steve and Bucky," the rest of the group mumbled, toasting their fallen crewmates, then downing their vodka.
The room lapsed into silence.
Stark put his cup back down on the table and then thunked his head down after it.
"Fuck."
Nick Fury stood at the podium and waited for the assembled press to settle into silence.
"I am sorry to report that the Avenger III mission to Mars has had to be unexpectedly cut short," he began. "Unfortunately, a storm on the planet's surface proved to be severe enough that the crew had to evacuate, and during the procedure both Captain Steven Grant Rogers and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes were struck by debris and killed."
The room erupted into murmurs again and he gave them a moment to digest the information before continuing.
"The rest of the crew have successfully made it to the Shield spacecraft, and are on their way home. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes..." He stopped and sighed heavily. "Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes gave their lives in the pursuit of mankind's quest for knowledge, and their sacrifice will never be forgotten."
On the barren Martian landscape, the winds were blowing red dust over two bodies laying prone, surrounded by crumpled debris.
Impaled on an antenna, with Barnes' dead weight crushing his chest, Steve blinked into consciousness and sucked in a labored breath.