Like the Touch of Rain (2/?)
Title: Like the Touch of Rain (2/?)
Author: illuminatius
Fandom: Marvel (Avengers)
Pairing or character/s: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes, one-sided Tony/Steve, Natasha/Sam, other canon pairings.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon character death mentioned, and a little angst.
Beta: TehAngelsCry at deviantArt.
Word count: 7035
Summary: In the aftermath of the superhero Civil War, Tony and Bucky develop an attraction. But with Steve gone and the Red Skull roaming free, the road ahead is an arduous one.
Disclaimer: All non-OC character belong to Marvel Comics and their respective creators. No profit is made is from this story. Redistribution without permission from the author is forbidden.
A/N: Comments and constructive criticism are loved, flames will be dealt with using a bitchy fire extinguisher.
“Just lay down here, please,” one of the doctors ordered, pointing at what seemed to be a large metal slab. Extra arm space had been added to the sides, and machines were hooked to them, wires criss-crossing underneath. It reminded Bucky of a contraption they used in the Soviet base.
As he laid down, the cool metal touching his back, another doctor attached electrodes to his biological arm while a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent activated the left-hand side machine. A beeping sound filled the otherwise silent room, and Bucky could see Stark and Natasha standing in the viewing gallery above. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves, and paid Bucky no attention.
The middle-aged doctor who had ordered Bucky to lie down stood next to him, a gentle look on his face. His brown hair was turning white at the sides, but his face looked youthful. The doctor didn’t seem to be scared of Bucky, or hid it really well; Bucky liked that. He didn’t need some panicked doctor screwing things up out of fear.
“Are you comfortable? Good,” he said as Bucky nodded in answer to the question, “then we can begin. My name is Dr. Perkins. My colleagues and I will be administering a few tests, and hopefully remove any remnant of the Winter Soldier safe-words from your mind.” He sounded very professional, but so had Bucky’s Soviet captors. “You might feel a bit of pain, but I assure you, that is a normal reaction to the procedure. We will, after all, delve in to your mind. As long as you remain calm, the procedure should go according to plan."
“Where are the psychics?”
“Dr. Benton,” Dr. Perkins said, pointing at the rather nervous looking doctor next to him, “will be performing the mind probe, and we have a machine that picks up your brainwaves and translates them into data, so to speak.”
A harness was attached to Bucky’s head, holding it down, metallic wires growing away from it like snakes from Medusa's head. Four computer screens lit up, one on either side of his head and one near each arm. Bucky couldn’t fully move his head, but he could tilt it to the side just enough to see a cross-section of his vital organs displayed on the screen next to his right arm. He couldn’t see what was on the screens next to his head; if Bucky hadn’t caught the sudden appearance of light in the corner of his eyes, he wouldn’t even have known that they were activated.
Dr. Perkins noticed Bucky looking at the screen next to his real arm. “Those are images of your organs. We need to monitor them during the procedure so that we can spot any dangerous activity.”
“Dangerous activity?” Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought you were only going to fix my mind, doc.”
“Yes, but we don’t know what probing your mind can lead to. Your…creators, for the lack of a better term, may have implanted fail-safes to prevent tampering. As they say, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, different from the one who had activated the machinery earlier, sat down at one of the computers and began typing; the slab Bucky was on shifted diagonally, and only a metal foot support at the base of the slab prevented him from sliding off. Now he could clearly see Stark and Natasha, both of them looking at him from their vantage point.
“Director Stark?” Dr. Perkins asked, one hand at his ear, no doubt holding the radio communicator in place. His soft voice almost echoed in the circular room they were in. Bucky could see Stark’s mouth moving, and heard the man’s voice through the doctor’s earpiece. “We’re ready to begin the procedure, sir.”
*Perfect. Remember, I want you to abort the procedure if any complications arise.*
Abort the procedure? ‘No chance,’ Bucky thought. He wanted to be free of the Winter Soldier, and Stark wasn’t going to stop that, complications be damned.
“No,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, and the doctor looked at him with an suddenly alarmed expression. “You don’t stop for nothing. I want my mind cleared of anything even remotely related to the Winter Soldier, understand? Tell Stark that he better not stop the procedure, or I’ll finish what I started earlier, I swear to god.”
The doctor’s calm façade was beginning to crack; his face paled slightly, eyes going wide. “Uh, sir, Mr. Barnes wishes to tell you that-“
*Yes, I heard him. Have it your way, Bucky, although I should point out that making threats will get you nowhere.*
“They’ve worked in the past. And what do you know; they’re working now too.”
Bucky could see Stark pinching the bridge of his nose, a drawn out sigh audible as he did. Some color had returned to his face; getting such a big load off his chest seemed to have invigorated the man ever so slightly.
*Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise.*
“Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately.”
***
“Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise.”
*Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately.* Dr. Perkins sounded relieved that the argument hadn’t escalated. Tony understood his relief; the doctors weren’t trained for combat, and wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if Bucky decided to bail. Tony closed the channel; he was getting all the information he needed by patching into the video feed.
“Are you sure he really is ready for this, Tony?” Natasha asked, her expression worried. She was leaning against the gallery window, facing Tony instead of looking down to watch Bucky. “I can’t help but think that this is a big mistake.”
“I think Steve would probably disagree with you, but that’s beside the point. Steve asked me to save him, and if this doesn’t do it I don’t know what will.”
“I just don’t want to see him get hurt, Tony. This is too big a burden for James to carry,” Natasha said, and the use of Bucky’s first name felt weird to Tony’s ears. He was aware that Natasha had history with him, and wasn’t surprised that they were on a first name basis - but not even Steve had called him James, and Bucky had been like a brother to his friend.
Tony missed Steve; longing and guilt hit him like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steve was supposed to be alive, not submerged into the arctic waters while Tony helped someone else prepare to take over the mantle.
Natasha was saying something to him - Tony could see her lips move - but he didn’t snap out of it until he heard Dr. Perkins’ voice directly in his ear.
*Sir, everything is progressing smoothly. Mr. Barnes’ vitals are stable and we have been able to remove two triggers so far. Barring any complications, the procedure should be finished soon.*
“Good,” Tony said, looking down at Bucky as he lay there on the slab. He looked calmer than Tony had ever seen him; Bucky’s posture was relaxed, his eyes open as the doctors checked his vital signs. Tony found it difficult to look away, and if Tony ended up looking a bit too intently, well, he could always say that he was too tired to look elsewhere.
Natasha cleared her throat, and as he turned to face her Tony saw that one of her eyebrows had almost disappeared into her hair. She crossed her arms, the fingers of her right hand drumming against her ribcage. “Tony, this man isn’t ready. It doesn’t matter if they succeed in removing every Winter Soldier trigger, or if he has the shield. This will consume him. It has only been a few weeks since Steve Rogers died. James needs time to heal.”
Wondering briefly about how many times this particular conversation would be repeated, Tony massaged his temples. He could use some rest. Usually, Steve or Pepper made sure that he got some sleep, but neither of them were around. His relationship with Pepper was still strained after Happy had…
Tony would never stop blaming himself, and if he tried there would always be someone or something to remind him of what he had done - Pepper didn’t say anything to his face, but whenever Tony saw her he was reminded of Happy lying in that hospital bed, hooked to all of those machines. Tony had failed Happy; he would not fail Steve, not after everything that had happened. “Natasha,” he said, “whether he is ready or not isn’t the issue here. This was Steve’s last request, and I trust his judgement. Steve thought Bucky would be able to take up his mantle, and that’s all I need to know.”
“Tony…”
“No. You don’t understand.” Tony was aware that his voice was rising, but he didn’t care. “Steve was my best friend! Even after everything that happened, he wanted me to take care of everything. Me. We became enemies, but he still trusted me enough to make sure I got that letter!”
Natasha remained silent, pity in her eyes clearly visible as she reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder. Tony didn’t flinch or back away; he just looked down at Bucky, and then back at her. “I need to do this, Natasha. I can’t disappoint him again.” He felt odd, like coming clean with his feelings left him open and exposed.
“I know, Tony, and I understand your emotions,” Natasha said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder, “but yelling won’t solve anything. This gallery isn’t soundproof.”
As if to make her point, she nodded towards the glass, and Tony could see everyone below pausing to stare at him, returning to their duties a few seconds later. Bucky hadn’t shifted from his position or changed his expression, but the beeping sound emitted from the heartbeat monitor increased slightly in frequency. “You are not the only one who mourns Steve; his death shook all of us. But there are people who rely on you, Tony. In the aftermath, they need you to be strong. This is a perilous time.”
“Yes, and that is why we need someone to take up Steve’s shield. People need a Captain America. Steve knew it, Bucky knows it and you should know it as well. Even if he isn’t ready, he’s the best for the role. He has the shield, and Steve trained him.”
“By that logic, you could have been Captain America.”
“That’s not funny, Natasha.” Tony said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to do right by-“
Tony was cut off by a commotion in the operation room; the beeping was now at full speed, sounding almost like an alarm. Natasha’s gasp alerted him to look down. Drs. Perkins and Benton were frantically trying to calm Bucky down, who was convulsing violently; the third doctor had been hit by the metal arm, and was lying unconscious - at least that was Tony hoped - on the floor.
Extremis established communications. “What’s going on?!” Tony asked, following Natasha who had exited the viewing gallery and was now heading for the operating room.
*We don’t know, sir! We were trying to remove the last trigger, and then he started to convulse! He knocked Dr. Lowell down when he tried to administer a sedative, sir!*
Tony was approaching the doors to the operation room, which had been flung open moments earlier by Natasha. Now two S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Dr. Benton - who was looking quite pale - were trying to hold him down, but they couldn’t keep doing it for long. “Prepare another sedative!” he yelled at them, joining Natasha and a lone agent at the computers.
Dr. Perkins prepared a needle, and injected the contents into Bucky’s arm, the convulsions slowly subsiding after he did. The beeping returned to normal, and Dr. Benton headed over to the unconscious form of Dr. Lowell, checking his pulse. “He’ll be fine,” the doctor told Tony, sweat running down his forehead; Tony guessed that there had been some psychic backlash when Dr. Benton tried to remove the last trigger.
Bucky was out cold, or at least seemed to be. “What about him?” Tony asked, pointing at unmoving body on the slab.
“The last trigger held some kind of fail-safe. I guess they wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t make it if the triggers were removed. It’s barbaric. He should be stabilized right now, and as far as I know, there should no Winter Soldier triggers left in his mind.”
“Good. Take him to the sick bay and keep him there until he wakes up; I want to be notified as soon as that happens.
***
Starks voice reached his ears, despite the glass and the distance; the man had to be yelling to be heard all the way down. So Stark was feeling guilty, eh? He damn well should. The doctors were looking at the viewing gallery, having paused in their work.
It hurt to get your mind fixed. The harness on his head felt heavy, and when Dr. Benton managed to remove one of the triggers a sharp sensation of pain spread throughout his body. Bucky had gritted his teeth, keeping himself still. This wasn’t the first time he had to endure pain, but the feeling of having someone wander around in his head wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t like it one bit.
Dr. Perkins was the first to stop staring at Stark and return to fixing his mind. “Don’t worry, Mr. Barnes. There should only be one trigger left. Once Dr. Benton removes it, this will all be over.”
“Hmm…it seems to be buried a bit too deep,” Dr. Benton said, and Bucky was surprised at hearing his voice; the man hadn’t uttered a word outside of his mind, “but I should be able to get to it. Just hold on for a second…”
“Try to hurry up, doc. I want that out of my head as s--“
Bucky didn’t get to finish that sentence. Without warning, a flash of pain seared through his entire body, and Bucky could feel all of his muscles simultaneously spasm. He shook out of control, the hard surface of the metal slab causing painful impacts on his head and back as he slammed against it. Bucky could feel hands on him, trying to hold him down; his metal arm shot out and connected with skin. He was aware of frenzied voices around him, but the pain was too strong for him to make anything out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think; the pain was overwhelming.
Bucky briefly registered something breaking his skin; sweet relief came slowly, the pain disappearing, his muscles calming down. Darkness started to approach, covering his eyes, and the last thing Bucky heard before slipping out of consciousness was Stark’s voice.
***
When the light returned - albeit a bit slowly - it hurt his eyes; Bucky blinked a couple times to chase the pain away. His vision was blurred, but he could make out two human shapes looking at him; when he managed to focus, he saw that it was Drs. Benton and Perkins. Dr. Perkins had a clipboard in his hand, and Dr. Benton was looking pale, his short brown bangs plastered to his forehead. Whatever had happened to Bucky seemed to have affected him as well.
The lights were different, and Bucky noticed that he was lying in a hospital bed rather on a cold metal surface. They didn’t bring him to a hospital, did they? “Wh…what’s going on?” Bucky was surprised to find that his voice was slurred - surprised and a little bit uncomfortable. There were no involuntary movements, but he had a splitting headache, and it felt like someone had just assaulted his back with a sledgehammer. Every part of his body felt bruised, and just moving one of his fingers left him exhausted.
‘You’d think that I had a good time.’
Apparently, sedation still had some effects on his mind.
“Good, you’re awake,” Dr. Perkins said, holding the clipboard close to his chest.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the Helicarrier sick bay. There was a slight…complication when Dr. Benton tried to remove the final trigger, as you probably noticed.”
Oh, did he ever.
“However, you should happy to know that we managed to remove all of the triggers. Director Stark ordered us to bring you here.” The doctor waved a finger in front of Bucky’s eyes. “Keep your eyes on my finger, please.” He moved it to the left, and then the right; Bucky’s gaze followed. “Good. You had a concussion and were unconscious for a few hours, but there doesn’t seem to be anything more severe than that. A little rest should be enough for you to get back on your feet.”
Dr. Benton was standing a bit further away, radioing someone. Bucky could only hear bits and pieces of what the doctor said; it felt as if his ears were full of cotton.
“…awake…we need…for observation…of course…”
Dr. Perkins followed Bucky’s line of vision, and turned back to him, smiling gently. Bucky didn’t have good experiences with doctors - the ones who treated him during his Winter Soldier days were a bunch of sick bastards, to say the least - but this one seemed all right. “Dr. Benton is contacting director Stark. He wanted to be informed about your condition.”
‘What do you know,’ Bucky thought as he closed his eyes. Stark was probably worried that something happened to him, and that he wouldn’t be able to take up Steve’s mantle, which would add more guilt to his already overgrown pile, ‘selfish or not, the man isn’t completely heartless.’
Sleep came quickly, and for once Bucky wasn’t plagued by nightmares.
***
A knock on the door made Tony look away from the documents on his desk - being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had him doing more paperwork than he wanted to - and see Bucky leaning against it, his arms crossed. The posture should have been relaxed, but Bucky seemed too rigid pull it off. Still, he looked quite good for someone who had been in what looked like major pain only a few hours ago. The guards that had escorted Bucky to the door were observing the man with a wary glance, hands resting on their S.H.I.E.L.D. issue firearms.
Bucky could probably take them both without much effort.
Tony’s chair slid back as he got up, ushering Bucky in with a wave of his hand. Bucky just gave him a look, and moved towards the center of the office while Tony ordered the guards to patrol the perimeter, or play poker in the locker rooms, or just wander around for the next ten hours or so; Tony made it clear that he didn’t want them standing outside his door. The less people that knew about this meeting with Bucky, the better. Extremis had already disabled the surveillance in his room, but he wanted to be perfectly sure.
Said man was looking around his office, occasionally touching one of the items on his desk, like a curious child. It was a strange comparison, but it struck Tony as very fitting, and for a few moments Tony just stood at the door watching Bucky examine the holographic screens with his fingers. It wasn’t until Bucky’s exploring hands reached a framed picture on his desk that Tony was shaken out of his reverie.
The frame was simple; one of the wooden ones you could buy at almost any store. However, it was invaluable to Tony simply because of the picture it contained; one of him and Steve during their time in the New Avengers. They had decided to stay in and watch a movie - “Tony, the man travels though time in a car. How can you not find that absurd?” - with the rest of the team out doing whatever they did on their time off. Peter had taken the picture after returning for his camera, which he had left in the penthouse. After Steve’s death, Tony had decided to frame the picture and keep it in his office. It reminded him of happier times, and if he sometimes sat alone and shed silent tears while looking at it, well, that was his business.
Bucky was looking at the picture with a forlorn expression, no doubt reminiscing over his times with Steve. It made his expression softer, and he had a smile on his face that managed to reach his eyes. Bucky probably had pictures like that of their times together during the Second World War, where Steve had been alive and he had been Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier.
“So. You’re free. No more Winter Soldier,” Tony said, moving closer to Bucky. “You’re Captain America now.”
The smile faded from Bucky face, as did the warmth from his downcast eyes. His grip on the frame tightened, and Tony was afraid that it would break until Bucky looked at him with sadness in his eyes, at which point Tony was afraid that Bucky would break. “I’ll never be free. You can’t change the past, and I’ll always be the Winter Soldier to some kid whose family I killed.”
Tony wanted to kick himself. “Look, I didn’t mean-“
“Yeah, I know. Just cut to the chase, Stark.” The sadness had begun to fade from his eyes, but a piece of it was still there, visible and raw and it made Tony feel like a jerk. “The doctors told me that you wanted to see me.”
“Right. I wanted to talk to you about your new role.” Tony drew in a breath. “Look, I know we’re not on the best of terms-” Tony tried to ignore Bucky’s bemused snort “-but I think you’re going to need someone to help you. Someone who has your back.”
“I already told you, Stark; I’m not taking orders from you. You’re not going to turn me into a S.H.I.E.L.D. puppet whose strings you can pull.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache starting to set in. “I know what you said, Bucky. But you can’t go after the Skull without help. I’m assuming that’s your plan?” Bucky nodded slightly, and Tony decided to continue. He had to appeal to logic. “No one ordered Steve around, but he had help. Whether it was Sharon, Sam, me or one of the Avengers; Steve didn’t act alone. I helped him. Let me help you.”
“What makes you think I even want your help, Stark?” Bucky asked, sneering.
“Well…” Tony said, scratching the back of his head. “Nothing, now that I think about it. But whether you want it or not doesn’t matter. You need my help.”
Bucky was silent; he had put the picture back on Tony’s desk, and seemed to giving Tony his full attention. “Look. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to call the guards back, and they’ll escort us to my lab at Stark Tower; I have a thing or two that I need to give you. After that, if you still don’t want my help, you’re free to go.”
“…Fine. But if I say no, I don’t want one of your agents following me. I won’t be held responsible for my actions if they do.”
Instead of answering him, Tony radioed the guards, his armor assembling around him.
***
The helicopter flight to Stark Tower was a silent one; Bucky opted to remain quiet while Stark was leaning back in his seat, gazing at the space in front of him. The guards hadn’t said a word since Stark had called them back in his office.
Silence fit Bucky well; he had no idea what to say. Everything was so confusing; it felt surreal, and Bucky wondered for a split second if this was some scenario Faustus had created in his mind, but then dismissed the idea. That seemed even more unlikely than him being next to Stark without a weapon pointed at the man.
His mission had been to kill Stark, to avenge Steve; instead, he was about to take up Steve’s mantle. Instead of putting a bullet in Stark’s head, his own had been freed from the influence of his Winter Solder conditioning. Now he was sitting next to Stark, and Bucky felt like had let Steve down somehow.
“Comfortable?” Stark asked, faceplate up, breaking Bucky out of his reverie. The man was looking at him directly, again, and it made Bucky feel…something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stark had been giving him these looks ever since they fought in the Helicarrier. It was almost like being looked at by an admirer, with fleeting glances that were redirected upon discovery. Bucky had received such glances all too often during the war - mostly from beautiful daughters of various noblewomen whom attended the parties which he, Steve, and the rest of the Invaders were invited to. In response to their stares, it was only polite that he introduce himself and openly flirt with them: he was young; hormonal; and in the presence of lovely young ladies.
Bucky wouldn’t admit it to Stark, but he secretly enjoyed the attention the man gave him. After all, Stark was a good looking man; tall and lean, with handsome features and clear hazel eyes. A voice in the back of his head told him that he could do, and had done, worse.
The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.
Bucky tried to lift his arms and failed; his hands hand been bound behind his back, but the tie was loose enough for Bucky to know that it was mainly for show, rather than to disable his mobility; Bucky was surprised that they hadn’t made him wear handcuffs. And Stark probably knew that he could just as easily incapacitate the guards with without the use of his hands. “As comfortable as I can be. I just want to get this over with.”
Stark looked amused, but his eyes seemed tired. “I know. So do I. Anyways, we should be arriving soon,” he said, leaning back once again.
They arrived at the tower a few moments later, the guards escorting both of them to what seemed to be a spacious lab. Stark punched in a code which opened opaque glass doors, and the guards were dismissed upon Stark’s entry; they untied Bucky before leaving. He ventured deeper in to the lab, looking around as he did. There were pieces of metal and various tools spread all around the room; Bucky noticed an unmade bed in the corner, most likely put there so that Stark would never have to leave.
Bucky stopped near a table with blueprints scattered across its surface, and looked at Stark, who looked around the lab with warmth in his eyes. “Why do you want to help me?” Bucky asked, and for a brief moment Stark seemed taken aback by Bucky’s question, but he quickly regained his composure as Bucky pressed on. “Guilt? Sense of nostalgia? Pathological need to control the situation?” Stark looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fend off the accusations, but didn’t. “What are you expecting in return, Stark?”
“For starters, how about you calling me Tony? Stark seems so formal,” Stark said with a playful tone, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
What were his intentions? Bucky couldn’t understand Stark, but he had never expected to. After the stunts Stark had pulled during the superhero Civil War, Bucky had decided that the man had a few screws loose; nothing else could explain how he spearheaded the arrests of his fellow heroes.
“We’re not exactly buddies, Stark. Don’t try to act like we are.
“Well, that was a disaster,” Stark sighed, putting his helmet down on the floor. “I’m just trying to help. It’s what Steve would have wanted.”
‘We’ll never know what Steve wanted. The Skull made sure of that,’ Bucky thought bitterly. “Look, Stark, I’m not in the mood for games. You’re not the type to help without expecting something in return, and I’ve already told you that you can’t order me around.”
Stark sighed, and under the low lights his face looked pale and tired, almost gaunt. When was the last time the man had rested? “I’m not trying to give you orders, and I don’t want anything in return. I just want to help. If you don’t want to accept it, fine, but don’t ask me twenty questions.” There was a slight bitterness in Stark’s voice, and for the briefest of moments, Bucky felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe Stark saw this as a way of redeeming himself. Bucky knew how it felt to want redemption so badly that it took over everything else. Taking over Steve’s mantle, becoming Captain America, was his road to redemption. And helping him would be Stark’s.
“…Okay. But I’m telling you, Stark-“
“I told you. Call me Tony.”
Relentless. “Fine. Tony. Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I will come after you.” Bucky realized that it might be a little extreme, but he needed to get his point across.
Tony seemed to lighten up, despite Bucky’s threat, and what looked like a genuine smile was plastered on his face. “Excellent. Well then. I have some things I need to give you…”
***
“Fine. Tony. Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I will come after you.”
Tony wasn’t surprised at the threat, although he did think that Bucky was getting a bit repetitive. Considering the situation, Tony didn’t blame him, but co-operation between them would be difficult if this kept up. Still, they seemed to be on a first name basis, and Tony recognized progress when he saw it. For the first time in a long time, he felt like smiling, and he did.
“Excellent,” he said, feeling better than he did only a few minutes ago. “Well then. I have some things I need to give you.” Tony moved towards the worktable, his armor disassembling as he did, leaving him only in his golden undersheath. It took willpower not to remove it so that he would only be left in his boxers. Tony wouldn’t mind Bucky looking at his body, but this was not the time.
Tony didn’t know where this sudden attraction was coming from, but he couldn’t act on it.
‘Not yet, anyway.’
He picked up a small device that was lying on the table; small and circular, the device fit in his palm perfectly. Tony had built it a week ago, but he had no idea that it would be used for this.
“Here,” he said, walking over to Bucky and giving him the device. “It’s a communicator,” Tony said, and the confused look which was beginning to form on Bucky’s face disappeared. “It will allow you to contact me directly through Extremis.”
“How does it work?”
“It’s not that complicated, really. I just calibrated it to go with the Extre- oh. You want instructions,“ Tony said, noticing Bucky’s raised eyebrow. “You just press this little button here…” Tony pointed at a small red button at the bottom, “and then start to talk. I’ll be receiving any communication through this device right in here.” This time, Tony pointed at his head. “Don’t try to contact me in any other way, got it? Don’t go near Stark Tower or S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Is that clear?” Tony realized that he sounded commanding, and that Bucky would probably not appreciate it, but he had found that it was a good way of making people listen. Disgruntled employees tended to listen when you commandingly threatened to fire them.
Bucky’s eyebrow rose higher. “I’m not an idiot, Tony,” he said, and it felt as if Bucky had a hard time saying Tony’s name, like the notion of uttering it was something particularly hard to swallow. Tony didn’t know if he should be intrigued or slightly insulted. “Whoever’s pulling your strings probably wouldn’t like that you’re helping me, and you need a secure way of communication.”
“Right.” Bucky had probably seen his fair share of undercover missions that required such secrecy. “You’ll be an unregistered hero; I can’t be seen openly supporting you.”
“I know. Anything else?”
Tony hesitated slightly before answering. “Steve’s uniform,” he said, moving towards the wall. Having a wall safe hidden behind a picture was pretty cliché, but his lab alone had better security than most locations with top of the line security systems. No one would be able to get it, much less look behind the large framed picture of the Avengers hanging on the wall. Tony opened the safe behind it, taking out a medium-sized box and blowing on it to remove the dust that had been collecting. Resisting the urge to cough, he walked back to Bucky and handed him the box. “I kept it, after…his death.” Mentioning Steve’s passing was always difficult, and Tony knew that it would never become easier. “Although I couldn’t find his mask.”
Bucky took the box from Tony, but didn’t open it. “You took his uniform?” There was a slight edge of steel to his tone.
“Yes. His uniform was damaged during the shooting. Instead of having it patched and put up on display, I decided to keep it locked away. The one located in the Smithsonian is obviously a replica, and so is the one Steve was buried with.”
Bucky removed the lid of the box, and looked down at the red, white and blue garb. There was a bullet hole in the chest area, with the edges frayed. “Why?” he asked, and this time his eyes were cold.
“Why what?”
“Why the fuck would you keep his uniform?” The anger in Bucky’s tone wasn’t hard to spot. “I don’t understand you, Stark. I thought I was beginning to, and then you show me this. You took his shield, his uniform, his freedom…”
Tony clenched his fists. He tried to calm himself down, but Bucky continued. “Did you get, what, some kind of sick thrill from it? You took away everything that was dear to Steve. You were supposed to be his friend, for god’s sake!”
“Shut up.”
“Oh my God, is Steve even buried? Or do you have his body stashed somewhere? Huh?”
Tony’s fist connected with Bucky’s face before the man had time to react.
***
Pain blossomed where Tony’s fist hit his cheek as Bucky lost his footing, falling down on the hard floor, the box never leaving his hands. The lights from the ceiling hit his eyes, and he had to blink away a tear. The blow would probably leave a bruise, but Bucky didn’t care. He knew that what he said had taken it a bit too far, but the sudden rage Bucky felt knowing that Steve hadn’t been buried with anything that was his, that he treasured, impaired his judgement. He could see Tony’s face looking over him, expression half apologetic, half furious.
“I made sure that no one could take what’s his and use it for the wrong reasons. I’m not going to apologize for that,” Tony said, offering his hand. Bucky took it, and was soon stood on his feet, fingers tenderly touching his cheek. Tony had hit him harder than expected. “But you were right. Steve isn’t buried at Arlington.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. “What?” Had Tony kept the body for experiments? Steve’s friend or no, if he had, Bucky wouldn’t hold back.
“Not what you think,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I…held a private ceremony in the Arctic, with Jan and Hank. We returned his body to where we found him, and Namor promised that he would make sure Steve’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed. I didn’t keep his body in a morgue somewhere to perform experiments.” At this point, Tony’s voice was cracking. “He was my friend. I’d lay down my life for him. I wish I could have at congress, but…I…” A choked sob followed.
So that was why Tony had taken Steve’s uniform: to make sure no one could steal his legacy. It was touching, but Bucky was still too angry to appreciate it. It would wear off eventually, but until it did, Bucky didn’t want much to do with Tony. “Fine. I’ll take it.” He looked at the garb, with its patriotic colors, and decided not to tell Tony about Frank Castle giving him the cowl. Looking at the uniform brought back many memories, but wearing it would be too much. “But I won’t use it. I can’t wear Steve’s old uniform. I’m not him, nor will I ever be.”
Tony seemed to have regained his composure, but his eyes were slightly red. “Then we’ll design a new one. I can draw up some ideas.”
“Okay. Good. Do you want to do it now?”
Tony shook his head. “No. I’ll get Natasha to drive you to Steve’s loft. She’ll get you back here tomorrow.” Bucky nodded while Tony contacted Natasha. Leaving this for tomorrow was a good idea. Neither of them were in the mood to do anything today. “Natasha, I need you to come down to my lab. Yes, he’s here. No, we’re both fine,” Tony said, giving Bucky a glance, most likely checking out the bruise on his cheek, “well, as fine as we can be. Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me. No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.” There was a small moment of silence, followed by an affronted exclamation from Tony. “Of course not!” Bucky’s eyebrow rose at the exchange, even though he only heard one part of it, and Tony looked a bit amused. “She’ll be here soon.”
“Okay,” Bucky said. And then, because he didn’t want to spend the following moments in awkward silence, he decided to put out few ideas. “I have a suggestion or two about the uniform…”
***
*Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me.*
“Is that a joke, Tony?” Natasha asked, a bit angry at being woken up. Beside her, Sam was breathing softly into her neck, one arm around her waist. Natasha couldn’t believe that she found someone who wanted to cuddle.
She also couldn’t believe that it didn’t bother her.
*No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.*
“How do you even know about me and Sam?” A horrible thought crossed her mind. “Tony, you didn’t- are there surveillance cameras here?” Natasha didn’t think that Tony would invade her privacy in such a manner, but it never hurt to ask.
If Tony had her under surveillance, Natasha would break one of his fingers. Maybe two, for good measure. She didn’t like being spied on, and his fingers would heal. Eventually.
*Of course not!* Tony exclaimed, sounding affronted.
“We will discuss this later, Tony. I’ll get over there as soon as I can,” Natasha said, turning her communicator off. She didn’t want to get up; Sam’s embrace was warm and comfortable, his broad chest against her back. He had finally decided to rest after searching around the entire city for Sharon, and Natasha had missed having a bit of alone time with him. It wasn’t exactly a candlelight dinner and a carriage ride, but sex probably counted as quality time. Once they found Sharon, Natasha would drag him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe Paris.
She turned around to face Sam, whose eyes were open. “You heard?” She asked, and Sam nodded. “Tony wants me to get over to this lab.”
“At this hour?” Sam said, trying to stifle a yawn as he did. “It’s after midnight.”
“You know me, lover. The Black Widow has a very flexible schedule,” Natasha said and sat up. Her clothes were all over the floor; locating her underwear wasn’t an easy task in a dark room, despite the moonlight illuminating bits and pieces. Natasha glanced at Sam’s form, the pale moonlight shining directly on him; in that light he looked beautiful, every muscle almost sparkling. “Apparently, James is still at Stark Tower with Tony. Hopefully they won’t kill each other before I get there.”
“Tony is a reasonable man. He wouldn’t attack Bucky unless he was sufficiently provo- oh. You better hurry.” Sam said, a grin forming on his face.
Natasha had finished dressing, and was just about to leave the bedroom when she turned around to look at Sam. “Want to go out to dinner tonight?”
“Of course. How about that Italian restaurant on 15th street?”
“Lovely.” And with that, she exited the room, cursing Tony silently as she did. She could have been in bed, comfortable and relaxed. Instead she was on her way to Stark Tower, hoping that she wouldn’t find missing limbs or a corpse when she arrived.
***
Relief hit Natasha when she noticed that neither Tony nor James seemed worse for fear. Tony had given Natasha the access codes to the lab in case there was an emergency, and she entered the spacious lab where both men stood, leaning over a worktable. Upon noticing her entry, Tony stood up straight and looked at her.
“That was fast.”
“The possibility of finding either of you dead is an effective way to make me hurry, Tony.”
“Don’t worry, we played nice.”
James kept leaning over the table, but raised his head. A mark had formed on his cheek, and Natasha could only raise an eyebrow at the implications. “Yes, I can see that,” she said, dryly, and Tony had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “What do you want me to do, Tony?”
“I need you to escort Bucky to Steve’s apartment. I don’t want anyone to see you, so be as stealthy as possible.”
Bucky let out a bemused snort, still looking at what Natasha now could identify as drawings. “We’re spies, Tony. Hell, we’re probably the best in the world. No one sees us unless we want them to.” He ended his sentence by looking directly at Tony, a smirk on his face, and Natasha wondered when they started to be on a first-name basis.
Men were so complicated.
Author: illuminatius
Fandom: Marvel (Avengers)
Pairing or character/s: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes, one-sided Tony/Steve, Natasha/Sam, other canon pairings.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon character death mentioned, and a little angst.
Beta: TehAngelsCry at deviantArt.
Word count: 7035
Summary: In the aftermath of the superhero Civil War, Tony and Bucky develop an attraction. But with Steve gone and the Red Skull roaming free, the road ahead is an arduous one.
Disclaimer: All non-OC character belong to Marvel Comics and their respective creators. No profit is made is from this story. Redistribution without permission from the author is forbidden.
A/N: Comments and constructive criticism are loved, flames will be dealt with using a bitchy fire extinguisher.
“Just lay down here, please,” one of the doctors ordered, pointing at what seemed to be a large metal slab. Extra arm space had been added to the sides, and machines were hooked to them, wires criss-crossing underneath. It reminded Bucky of a contraption they used in the Soviet base.
As he laid down, the cool metal touching his back, another doctor attached electrodes to his biological arm while a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent activated the left-hand side machine. A beeping sound filled the otherwise silent room, and Bucky could see Stark and Natasha standing in the viewing gallery above. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves, and paid Bucky no attention.
The middle-aged doctor who had ordered Bucky to lie down stood next to him, a gentle look on his face. His brown hair was turning white at the sides, but his face looked youthful. The doctor didn’t seem to be scared of Bucky, or hid it really well; Bucky liked that. He didn’t need some panicked doctor screwing things up out of fear.
“Are you comfortable? Good,” he said as Bucky nodded in answer to the question, “then we can begin. My name is Dr. Perkins. My colleagues and I will be administering a few tests, and hopefully remove any remnant of the Winter Soldier safe-words from your mind.” He sounded very professional, but so had Bucky’s Soviet captors. “You might feel a bit of pain, but I assure you, that is a normal reaction to the procedure. We will, after all, delve in to your mind. As long as you remain calm, the procedure should go according to plan."
“Where are the psychics?”
“Dr. Benton,” Dr. Perkins said, pointing at the rather nervous looking doctor next to him, “will be performing the mind probe, and we have a machine that picks up your brainwaves and translates them into data, so to speak.”
A harness was attached to Bucky’s head, holding it down, metallic wires growing away from it like snakes from Medusa's head. Four computer screens lit up, one on either side of his head and one near each arm. Bucky couldn’t fully move his head, but he could tilt it to the side just enough to see a cross-section of his vital organs displayed on the screen next to his right arm. He couldn’t see what was on the screens next to his head; if Bucky hadn’t caught the sudden appearance of light in the corner of his eyes, he wouldn’t even have known that they were activated.
Dr. Perkins noticed Bucky looking at the screen next to his real arm. “Those are images of your organs. We need to monitor them during the procedure so that we can spot any dangerous activity.”
“Dangerous activity?” Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought you were only going to fix my mind, doc.”
“Yes, but we don’t know what probing your mind can lead to. Your…creators, for the lack of a better term, may have implanted fail-safes to prevent tampering. As they say, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, different from the one who had activated the machinery earlier, sat down at one of the computers and began typing; the slab Bucky was on shifted diagonally, and only a metal foot support at the base of the slab prevented him from sliding off. Now he could clearly see Stark and Natasha, both of them looking at him from their vantage point.
“Director Stark?” Dr. Perkins asked, one hand at his ear, no doubt holding the radio communicator in place. His soft voice almost echoed in the circular room they were in. Bucky could see Stark’s mouth moving, and heard the man’s voice through the doctor’s earpiece. “We’re ready to begin the procedure, sir.”
*Perfect. Remember, I want you to abort the procedure if any complications arise.*
Abort the procedure? ‘No chance,’ Bucky thought. He wanted to be free of the Winter Soldier, and Stark wasn’t going to stop that, complications be damned.
“No,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, and the doctor looked at him with an suddenly alarmed expression. “You don’t stop for nothing. I want my mind cleared of anything even remotely related to the Winter Soldier, understand? Tell Stark that he better not stop the procedure, or I’ll finish what I started earlier, I swear to god.”
The doctor’s calm façade was beginning to crack; his face paled slightly, eyes going wide. “Uh, sir, Mr. Barnes wishes to tell you that-“
*Yes, I heard him. Have it your way, Bucky, although I should point out that making threats will get you nowhere.*
“They’ve worked in the past. And what do you know; they’re working now too.”
Bucky could see Stark pinching the bridge of his nose, a drawn out sigh audible as he did. Some color had returned to his face; getting such a big load off his chest seemed to have invigorated the man ever so slightly.
*Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise.*
“Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately.”
***
“Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise.”
*Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately.* Dr. Perkins sounded relieved that the argument hadn’t escalated. Tony understood his relief; the doctors weren’t trained for combat, and wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if Bucky decided to bail. Tony closed the channel; he was getting all the information he needed by patching into the video feed.
“Are you sure he really is ready for this, Tony?” Natasha asked, her expression worried. She was leaning against the gallery window, facing Tony instead of looking down to watch Bucky. “I can’t help but think that this is a big mistake.”
“I think Steve would probably disagree with you, but that’s beside the point. Steve asked me to save him, and if this doesn’t do it I don’t know what will.”
“I just don’t want to see him get hurt, Tony. This is too big a burden for James to carry,” Natasha said, and the use of Bucky’s first name felt weird to Tony’s ears. He was aware that Natasha had history with him, and wasn’t surprised that they were on a first name basis - but not even Steve had called him James, and Bucky had been like a brother to his friend.
Tony missed Steve; longing and guilt hit him like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steve was supposed to be alive, not submerged into the arctic waters while Tony helped someone else prepare to take over the mantle.
Natasha was saying something to him - Tony could see her lips move - but he didn’t snap out of it until he heard Dr. Perkins’ voice directly in his ear.
*Sir, everything is progressing smoothly. Mr. Barnes’ vitals are stable and we have been able to remove two triggers so far. Barring any complications, the procedure should be finished soon.*
“Good,” Tony said, looking down at Bucky as he lay there on the slab. He looked calmer than Tony had ever seen him; Bucky’s posture was relaxed, his eyes open as the doctors checked his vital signs. Tony found it difficult to look away, and if Tony ended up looking a bit too intently, well, he could always say that he was too tired to look elsewhere.
Natasha cleared her throat, and as he turned to face her Tony saw that one of her eyebrows had almost disappeared into her hair. She crossed her arms, the fingers of her right hand drumming against her ribcage. “Tony, this man isn’t ready. It doesn’t matter if they succeed in removing every Winter Soldier trigger, or if he has the shield. This will consume him. It has only been a few weeks since Steve Rogers died. James needs time to heal.”
Wondering briefly about how many times this particular conversation would be repeated, Tony massaged his temples. He could use some rest. Usually, Steve or Pepper made sure that he got some sleep, but neither of them were around. His relationship with Pepper was still strained after Happy had…
Tony would never stop blaming himself, and if he tried there would always be someone or something to remind him of what he had done - Pepper didn’t say anything to his face, but whenever Tony saw her he was reminded of Happy lying in that hospital bed, hooked to all of those machines. Tony had failed Happy; he would not fail Steve, not after everything that had happened. “Natasha,” he said, “whether he is ready or not isn’t the issue here. This was Steve’s last request, and I trust his judgement. Steve thought Bucky would be able to take up his mantle, and that’s all I need to know.”
“Tony…”
“No. You don’t understand.” Tony was aware that his voice was rising, but he didn’t care. “Steve was my best friend! Even after everything that happened, he wanted me to take care of everything. Me. We became enemies, but he still trusted me enough to make sure I got that letter!”
Natasha remained silent, pity in her eyes clearly visible as she reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder. Tony didn’t flinch or back away; he just looked down at Bucky, and then back at her. “I need to do this, Natasha. I can’t disappoint him again.” He felt odd, like coming clean with his feelings left him open and exposed.
“I know, Tony, and I understand your emotions,” Natasha said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder, “but yelling won’t solve anything. This gallery isn’t soundproof.”
As if to make her point, she nodded towards the glass, and Tony could see everyone below pausing to stare at him, returning to their duties a few seconds later. Bucky hadn’t shifted from his position or changed his expression, but the beeping sound emitted from the heartbeat monitor increased slightly in frequency. “You are not the only one who mourns Steve; his death shook all of us. But there are people who rely on you, Tony. In the aftermath, they need you to be strong. This is a perilous time.”
“Yes, and that is why we need someone to take up Steve’s shield. People need a Captain America. Steve knew it, Bucky knows it and you should know it as well. Even if he isn’t ready, he’s the best for the role. He has the shield, and Steve trained him.”
“By that logic, you could have been Captain America.”
“That’s not funny, Natasha.” Tony said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to do right by-“
Tony was cut off by a commotion in the operation room; the beeping was now at full speed, sounding almost like an alarm. Natasha’s gasp alerted him to look down. Drs. Perkins and Benton were frantically trying to calm Bucky down, who was convulsing violently; the third doctor had been hit by the metal arm, and was lying unconscious - at least that was Tony hoped - on the floor.
Extremis established communications. “What’s going on?!” Tony asked, following Natasha who had exited the viewing gallery and was now heading for the operating room.
*We don’t know, sir! We were trying to remove the last trigger, and then he started to convulse! He knocked Dr. Lowell down when he tried to administer a sedative, sir!*
Tony was approaching the doors to the operation room, which had been flung open moments earlier by Natasha. Now two S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Dr. Benton - who was looking quite pale - were trying to hold him down, but they couldn’t keep doing it for long. “Prepare another sedative!” he yelled at them, joining Natasha and a lone agent at the computers.
Dr. Perkins prepared a needle, and injected the contents into Bucky’s arm, the convulsions slowly subsiding after he did. The beeping returned to normal, and Dr. Benton headed over to the unconscious form of Dr. Lowell, checking his pulse. “He’ll be fine,” the doctor told Tony, sweat running down his forehead; Tony guessed that there had been some psychic backlash when Dr. Benton tried to remove the last trigger.
Bucky was out cold, or at least seemed to be. “What about him?” Tony asked, pointing at unmoving body on the slab.
“The last trigger held some kind of fail-safe. I guess they wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t make it if the triggers were removed. It’s barbaric. He should be stabilized right now, and as far as I know, there should no Winter Soldier triggers left in his mind.”
“Good. Take him to the sick bay and keep him there until he wakes up; I want to be notified as soon as that happens.
***
Starks voice reached his ears, despite the glass and the distance; the man had to be yelling to be heard all the way down. So Stark was feeling guilty, eh? He damn well should. The doctors were looking at the viewing gallery, having paused in their work.
It hurt to get your mind fixed. The harness on his head felt heavy, and when Dr. Benton managed to remove one of the triggers a sharp sensation of pain spread throughout his body. Bucky had gritted his teeth, keeping himself still. This wasn’t the first time he had to endure pain, but the feeling of having someone wander around in his head wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t like it one bit.
Dr. Perkins was the first to stop staring at Stark and return to fixing his mind. “Don’t worry, Mr. Barnes. There should only be one trigger left. Once Dr. Benton removes it, this will all be over.”
“Hmm…it seems to be buried a bit too deep,” Dr. Benton said, and Bucky was surprised at hearing his voice; the man hadn’t uttered a word outside of his mind, “but I should be able to get to it. Just hold on for a second…”
“Try to hurry up, doc. I want that out of my head as s--“
Bucky didn’t get to finish that sentence. Without warning, a flash of pain seared through his entire body, and Bucky could feel all of his muscles simultaneously spasm. He shook out of control, the hard surface of the metal slab causing painful impacts on his head and back as he slammed against it. Bucky could feel hands on him, trying to hold him down; his metal arm shot out and connected with skin. He was aware of frenzied voices around him, but the pain was too strong for him to make anything out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think; the pain was overwhelming.
Bucky briefly registered something breaking his skin; sweet relief came slowly, the pain disappearing, his muscles calming down. Darkness started to approach, covering his eyes, and the last thing Bucky heard before slipping out of consciousness was Stark’s voice.
***
When the light returned - albeit a bit slowly - it hurt his eyes; Bucky blinked a couple times to chase the pain away. His vision was blurred, but he could make out two human shapes looking at him; when he managed to focus, he saw that it was Drs. Benton and Perkins. Dr. Perkins had a clipboard in his hand, and Dr. Benton was looking pale, his short brown bangs plastered to his forehead. Whatever had happened to Bucky seemed to have affected him as well.
The lights were different, and Bucky noticed that he was lying in a hospital bed rather on a cold metal surface. They didn’t bring him to a hospital, did they? “Wh…what’s going on?” Bucky was surprised to find that his voice was slurred - surprised and a little bit uncomfortable. There were no involuntary movements, but he had a splitting headache, and it felt like someone had just assaulted his back with a sledgehammer. Every part of his body felt bruised, and just moving one of his fingers left him exhausted.
‘You’d think that I had a good time.’
Apparently, sedation still had some effects on his mind.
“Good, you’re awake,” Dr. Perkins said, holding the clipboard close to his chest.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the Helicarrier sick bay. There was a slight…complication when Dr. Benton tried to remove the final trigger, as you probably noticed.”
Oh, did he ever.
“However, you should happy to know that we managed to remove all of the triggers. Director Stark ordered us to bring you here.” The doctor waved a finger in front of Bucky’s eyes. “Keep your eyes on my finger, please.” He moved it to the left, and then the right; Bucky’s gaze followed. “Good. You had a concussion and were unconscious for a few hours, but there doesn’t seem to be anything more severe than that. A little rest should be enough for you to get back on your feet.”
Dr. Benton was standing a bit further away, radioing someone. Bucky could only hear bits and pieces of what the doctor said; it felt as if his ears were full of cotton.
“…awake…we need…for observation…of course…”
Dr. Perkins followed Bucky’s line of vision, and turned back to him, smiling gently. Bucky didn’t have good experiences with doctors - the ones who treated him during his Winter Soldier days were a bunch of sick bastards, to say the least - but this one seemed all right. “Dr. Benton is contacting director Stark. He wanted to be informed about your condition.”
‘What do you know,’ Bucky thought as he closed his eyes. Stark was probably worried that something happened to him, and that he wouldn’t be able to take up Steve’s mantle, which would add more guilt to his already overgrown pile, ‘selfish or not, the man isn’t completely heartless.’
Sleep came quickly, and for once Bucky wasn’t plagued by nightmares.
***
A knock on the door made Tony look away from the documents on his desk - being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had him doing more paperwork than he wanted to - and see Bucky leaning against it, his arms crossed. The posture should have been relaxed, but Bucky seemed too rigid pull it off. Still, he looked quite good for someone who had been in what looked like major pain only a few hours ago. The guards that had escorted Bucky to the door were observing the man with a wary glance, hands resting on their S.H.I.E.L.D. issue firearms.
Bucky could probably take them both without much effort.
Tony’s chair slid back as he got up, ushering Bucky in with a wave of his hand. Bucky just gave him a look, and moved towards the center of the office while Tony ordered the guards to patrol the perimeter, or play poker in the locker rooms, or just wander around for the next ten hours or so; Tony made it clear that he didn’t want them standing outside his door. The less people that knew about this meeting with Bucky, the better. Extremis had already disabled the surveillance in his room, but he wanted to be perfectly sure.
Said man was looking around his office, occasionally touching one of the items on his desk, like a curious child. It was a strange comparison, but it struck Tony as very fitting, and for a few moments Tony just stood at the door watching Bucky examine the holographic screens with his fingers. It wasn’t until Bucky’s exploring hands reached a framed picture on his desk that Tony was shaken out of his reverie.
The frame was simple; one of the wooden ones you could buy at almost any store. However, it was invaluable to Tony simply because of the picture it contained; one of him and Steve during their time in the New Avengers. They had decided to stay in and watch a movie - “Tony, the man travels though time in a car. How can you not find that absurd?” - with the rest of the team out doing whatever they did on their time off. Peter had taken the picture after returning for his camera, which he had left in the penthouse. After Steve’s death, Tony had decided to frame the picture and keep it in his office. It reminded him of happier times, and if he sometimes sat alone and shed silent tears while looking at it, well, that was his business.
Bucky was looking at the picture with a forlorn expression, no doubt reminiscing over his times with Steve. It made his expression softer, and he had a smile on his face that managed to reach his eyes. Bucky probably had pictures like that of their times together during the Second World War, where Steve had been alive and he had been Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier.
“So. You’re free. No more Winter Soldier,” Tony said, moving closer to Bucky. “You’re Captain America now.”
The smile faded from Bucky face, as did the warmth from his downcast eyes. His grip on the frame tightened, and Tony was afraid that it would break until Bucky looked at him with sadness in his eyes, at which point Tony was afraid that Bucky would break. “I’ll never be free. You can’t change the past, and I’ll always be the Winter Soldier to some kid whose family I killed.”
Tony wanted to kick himself. “Look, I didn’t mean-“
“Yeah, I know. Just cut to the chase, Stark.” The sadness had begun to fade from his eyes, but a piece of it was still there, visible and raw and it made Tony feel like a jerk. “The doctors told me that you wanted to see me.”
“Right. I wanted to talk to you about your new role.” Tony drew in a breath. “Look, I know we’re not on the best of terms-” Tony tried to ignore Bucky’s bemused snort “-but I think you’re going to need someone to help you. Someone who has your back.”
“I already told you, Stark; I’m not taking orders from you. You’re not going to turn me into a S.H.I.E.L.D. puppet whose strings you can pull.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache starting to set in. “I know what you said, Bucky. But you can’t go after the Skull without help. I’m assuming that’s your plan?” Bucky nodded slightly, and Tony decided to continue. He had to appeal to logic. “No one ordered Steve around, but he had help. Whether it was Sharon, Sam, me or one of the Avengers; Steve didn’t act alone. I helped him. Let me help you.”
“What makes you think I even want your help, Stark?” Bucky asked, sneering.
“Well…” Tony said, scratching the back of his head. “Nothing, now that I think about it. But whether you want it or not doesn’t matter. You need my help.”
Bucky was silent; he had put the picture back on Tony’s desk, and seemed to giving Tony his full attention. “Look. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to call the guards back, and they’ll escort us to my lab at Stark Tower; I have a thing or two that I need to give you. After that, if you still don’t want my help, you’re free to go.”
“…Fine. But if I say no, I don’t want one of your agents following me. I won’t be held responsible for my actions if they do.”
Instead of answering him, Tony radioed the guards, his armor assembling around him.
***
The helicopter flight to Stark Tower was a silent one; Bucky opted to remain quiet while Stark was leaning back in his seat, gazing at the space in front of him. The guards hadn’t said a word since Stark had called them back in his office.
Silence fit Bucky well; he had no idea what to say. Everything was so confusing; it felt surreal, and Bucky wondered for a split second if this was some scenario Faustus had created in his mind, but then dismissed the idea. That seemed even more unlikely than him being next to Stark without a weapon pointed at the man.
His mission had been to kill Stark, to avenge Steve; instead, he was about to take up Steve’s mantle. Instead of putting a bullet in Stark’s head, his own had been freed from the influence of his Winter Solder conditioning. Now he was sitting next to Stark, and Bucky felt like had let Steve down somehow.
“Comfortable?” Stark asked, faceplate up, breaking Bucky out of his reverie. The man was looking at him directly, again, and it made Bucky feel…something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stark had been giving him these looks ever since they fought in the Helicarrier. It was almost like being looked at by an admirer, with fleeting glances that were redirected upon discovery. Bucky had received such glances all too often during the war - mostly from beautiful daughters of various noblewomen whom attended the parties which he, Steve, and the rest of the Invaders were invited to. In response to their stares, it was only polite that he introduce himself and openly flirt with them: he was young; hormonal; and in the presence of lovely young ladies.
Bucky wouldn’t admit it to Stark, but he secretly enjoyed the attention the man gave him. After all, Stark was a good looking man; tall and lean, with handsome features and clear hazel eyes. A voice in the back of his head told him that he could do, and had done, worse.
The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.
Bucky tried to lift his arms and failed; his hands hand been bound behind his back, but the tie was loose enough for Bucky to know that it was mainly for show, rather than to disable his mobility; Bucky was surprised that they hadn’t made him wear handcuffs. And Stark probably knew that he could just as easily incapacitate the guards with without the use of his hands. “As comfortable as I can be. I just want to get this over with.”
Stark looked amused, but his eyes seemed tired. “I know. So do I. Anyways, we should be arriving soon,” he said, leaning back once again.
They arrived at the tower a few moments later, the guards escorting both of them to what seemed to be a spacious lab. Stark punched in a code which opened opaque glass doors, and the guards were dismissed upon Stark’s entry; they untied Bucky before leaving. He ventured deeper in to the lab, looking around as he did. There were pieces of metal and various tools spread all around the room; Bucky noticed an unmade bed in the corner, most likely put there so that Stark would never have to leave.
Bucky stopped near a table with blueprints scattered across its surface, and looked at Stark, who looked around the lab with warmth in his eyes. “Why do you want to help me?” Bucky asked, and for a brief moment Stark seemed taken aback by Bucky’s question, but he quickly regained his composure as Bucky pressed on. “Guilt? Sense of nostalgia? Pathological need to control the situation?” Stark looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fend off the accusations, but didn’t. “What are you expecting in return, Stark?”
“For starters, how about you calling me Tony? Stark seems so formal,” Stark said with a playful tone, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
What were his intentions? Bucky couldn’t understand Stark, but he had never expected to. After the stunts Stark had pulled during the superhero Civil War, Bucky had decided that the man had a few screws loose; nothing else could explain how he spearheaded the arrests of his fellow heroes.
“We’re not exactly buddies, Stark. Don’t try to act like we are.
“Well, that was a disaster,” Stark sighed, putting his helmet down on the floor. “I’m just trying to help. It’s what Steve would have wanted.”
‘We’ll never know what Steve wanted. The Skull made sure of that,’ Bucky thought bitterly. “Look, Stark, I’m not in the mood for games. You’re not the type to help without expecting something in return, and I’ve already told you that you can’t order me around.”
Stark sighed, and under the low lights his face looked pale and tired, almost gaunt. When was the last time the man had rested? “I’m not trying to give you orders, and I don’t want anything in return. I just want to help. If you don’t want to accept it, fine, but don’t ask me twenty questions.” There was a slight bitterness in Stark’s voice, and for the briefest of moments, Bucky felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe Stark saw this as a way of redeeming himself. Bucky knew how it felt to want redemption so badly that it took over everything else. Taking over Steve’s mantle, becoming Captain America, was his road to redemption. And helping him would be Stark’s.
“…Okay. But I’m telling you, Stark-“
“I told you. Call me Tony.”
Relentless. “Fine. Tony. Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I will come after you.” Bucky realized that it might be a little extreme, but he needed to get his point across.
Tony seemed to lighten up, despite Bucky’s threat, and what looked like a genuine smile was plastered on his face. “Excellent. Well then. I have some things I need to give you…”
***
“Fine. Tony. Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I will come after you.”
Tony wasn’t surprised at the threat, although he did think that Bucky was getting a bit repetitive. Considering the situation, Tony didn’t blame him, but co-operation between them would be difficult if this kept up. Still, they seemed to be on a first name basis, and Tony recognized progress when he saw it. For the first time in a long time, he felt like smiling, and he did.
“Excellent,” he said, feeling better than he did only a few minutes ago. “Well then. I have some things I need to give you.” Tony moved towards the worktable, his armor disassembling as he did, leaving him only in his golden undersheath. It took willpower not to remove it so that he would only be left in his boxers. Tony wouldn’t mind Bucky looking at his body, but this was not the time.
Tony didn’t know where this sudden attraction was coming from, but he couldn’t act on it.
‘Not yet, anyway.’
He picked up a small device that was lying on the table; small and circular, the device fit in his palm perfectly. Tony had built it a week ago, but he had no idea that it would be used for this.
“Here,” he said, walking over to Bucky and giving him the device. “It’s a communicator,” Tony said, and the confused look which was beginning to form on Bucky’s face disappeared. “It will allow you to contact me directly through Extremis.”
“How does it work?”
“It’s not that complicated, really. I just calibrated it to go with the Extre- oh. You want instructions,“ Tony said, noticing Bucky’s raised eyebrow. “You just press this little button here…” Tony pointed at a small red button at the bottom, “and then start to talk. I’ll be receiving any communication through this device right in here.” This time, Tony pointed at his head. “Don’t try to contact me in any other way, got it? Don’t go near Stark Tower or S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Is that clear?” Tony realized that he sounded commanding, and that Bucky would probably not appreciate it, but he had found that it was a good way of making people listen. Disgruntled employees tended to listen when you commandingly threatened to fire them.
Bucky’s eyebrow rose higher. “I’m not an idiot, Tony,” he said, and it felt as if Bucky had a hard time saying Tony’s name, like the notion of uttering it was something particularly hard to swallow. Tony didn’t know if he should be intrigued or slightly insulted. “Whoever’s pulling your strings probably wouldn’t like that you’re helping me, and you need a secure way of communication.”
“Right.” Bucky had probably seen his fair share of undercover missions that required such secrecy. “You’ll be an unregistered hero; I can’t be seen openly supporting you.”
“I know. Anything else?”
Tony hesitated slightly before answering. “Steve’s uniform,” he said, moving towards the wall. Having a wall safe hidden behind a picture was pretty cliché, but his lab alone had better security than most locations with top of the line security systems. No one would be able to get it, much less look behind the large framed picture of the Avengers hanging on the wall. Tony opened the safe behind it, taking out a medium-sized box and blowing on it to remove the dust that had been collecting. Resisting the urge to cough, he walked back to Bucky and handed him the box. “I kept it, after…his death.” Mentioning Steve’s passing was always difficult, and Tony knew that it would never become easier. “Although I couldn’t find his mask.”
Bucky took the box from Tony, but didn’t open it. “You took his uniform?” There was a slight edge of steel to his tone.
“Yes. His uniform was damaged during the shooting. Instead of having it patched and put up on display, I decided to keep it locked away. The one located in the Smithsonian is obviously a replica, and so is the one Steve was buried with.”
Bucky removed the lid of the box, and looked down at the red, white and blue garb. There was a bullet hole in the chest area, with the edges frayed. “Why?” he asked, and this time his eyes were cold.
“Why what?”
“Why the fuck would you keep his uniform?” The anger in Bucky’s tone wasn’t hard to spot. “I don’t understand you, Stark. I thought I was beginning to, and then you show me this. You took his shield, his uniform, his freedom…”
Tony clenched his fists. He tried to calm himself down, but Bucky continued. “Did you get, what, some kind of sick thrill from it? You took away everything that was dear to Steve. You were supposed to be his friend, for god’s sake!”
“Shut up.”
“Oh my God, is Steve even buried? Or do you have his body stashed somewhere? Huh?”
Tony’s fist connected with Bucky’s face before the man had time to react.
***
Pain blossomed where Tony’s fist hit his cheek as Bucky lost his footing, falling down on the hard floor, the box never leaving his hands. The lights from the ceiling hit his eyes, and he had to blink away a tear. The blow would probably leave a bruise, but Bucky didn’t care. He knew that what he said had taken it a bit too far, but the sudden rage Bucky felt knowing that Steve hadn’t been buried with anything that was his, that he treasured, impaired his judgement. He could see Tony’s face looking over him, expression half apologetic, half furious.
“I made sure that no one could take what’s his and use it for the wrong reasons. I’m not going to apologize for that,” Tony said, offering his hand. Bucky took it, and was soon stood on his feet, fingers tenderly touching his cheek. Tony had hit him harder than expected. “But you were right. Steve isn’t buried at Arlington.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. “What?” Had Tony kept the body for experiments? Steve’s friend or no, if he had, Bucky wouldn’t hold back.
“Not what you think,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I…held a private ceremony in the Arctic, with Jan and Hank. We returned his body to where we found him, and Namor promised that he would make sure Steve’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed. I didn’t keep his body in a morgue somewhere to perform experiments.” At this point, Tony’s voice was cracking. “He was my friend. I’d lay down my life for him. I wish I could have at congress, but…I…” A choked sob followed.
So that was why Tony had taken Steve’s uniform: to make sure no one could steal his legacy. It was touching, but Bucky was still too angry to appreciate it. It would wear off eventually, but until it did, Bucky didn’t want much to do with Tony. “Fine. I’ll take it.” He looked at the garb, with its patriotic colors, and decided not to tell Tony about Frank Castle giving him the cowl. Looking at the uniform brought back many memories, but wearing it would be too much. “But I won’t use it. I can’t wear Steve’s old uniform. I’m not him, nor will I ever be.”
Tony seemed to have regained his composure, but his eyes were slightly red. “Then we’ll design a new one. I can draw up some ideas.”
“Okay. Good. Do you want to do it now?”
Tony shook his head. “No. I’ll get Natasha to drive you to Steve’s loft. She’ll get you back here tomorrow.” Bucky nodded while Tony contacted Natasha. Leaving this for tomorrow was a good idea. Neither of them were in the mood to do anything today. “Natasha, I need you to come down to my lab. Yes, he’s here. No, we’re both fine,” Tony said, giving Bucky a glance, most likely checking out the bruise on his cheek, “well, as fine as we can be. Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me. No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.” There was a small moment of silence, followed by an affronted exclamation from Tony. “Of course not!” Bucky’s eyebrow rose at the exchange, even though he only heard one part of it, and Tony looked a bit amused. “She’ll be here soon.”
“Okay,” Bucky said. And then, because he didn’t want to spend the following moments in awkward silence, he decided to put out few ideas. “I have a suggestion or two about the uniform…”
***
*Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me.*
“Is that a joke, Tony?” Natasha asked, a bit angry at being woken up. Beside her, Sam was breathing softly into her neck, one arm around her waist. Natasha couldn’t believe that she found someone who wanted to cuddle.
She also couldn’t believe that it didn’t bother her.
*No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.*
“How do you even know about me and Sam?” A horrible thought crossed her mind. “Tony, you didn’t- are there surveillance cameras here?” Natasha didn’t think that Tony would invade her privacy in such a manner, but it never hurt to ask.
If Tony had her under surveillance, Natasha would break one of his fingers. Maybe two, for good measure. She didn’t like being spied on, and his fingers would heal. Eventually.
*Of course not!* Tony exclaimed, sounding affronted.
“We will discuss this later, Tony. I’ll get over there as soon as I can,” Natasha said, turning her communicator off. She didn’t want to get up; Sam’s embrace was warm and comfortable, his broad chest against her back. He had finally decided to rest after searching around the entire city for Sharon, and Natasha had missed having a bit of alone time with him. It wasn’t exactly a candlelight dinner and a carriage ride, but sex probably counted as quality time. Once they found Sharon, Natasha would drag him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe Paris.
She turned around to face Sam, whose eyes were open. “You heard?” She asked, and Sam nodded. “Tony wants me to get over to this lab.”
“At this hour?” Sam said, trying to stifle a yawn as he did. “It’s after midnight.”
“You know me, lover. The Black Widow has a very flexible schedule,” Natasha said and sat up. Her clothes were all over the floor; locating her underwear wasn’t an easy task in a dark room, despite the moonlight illuminating bits and pieces. Natasha glanced at Sam’s form, the pale moonlight shining directly on him; in that light he looked beautiful, every muscle almost sparkling. “Apparently, James is still at Stark Tower with Tony. Hopefully they won’t kill each other before I get there.”
“Tony is a reasonable man. He wouldn’t attack Bucky unless he was sufficiently provo- oh. You better hurry.” Sam said, a grin forming on his face.
Natasha had finished dressing, and was just about to leave the bedroom when she turned around to look at Sam. “Want to go out to dinner tonight?”
“Of course. How about that Italian restaurant on 15th street?”
“Lovely.” And with that, she exited the room, cursing Tony silently as she did. She could have been in bed, comfortable and relaxed. Instead she was on her way to Stark Tower, hoping that she wouldn’t find missing limbs or a corpse when she arrived.
***
Relief hit Natasha when she noticed that neither Tony nor James seemed worse for fear. Tony had given Natasha the access codes to the lab in case there was an emergency, and she entered the spacious lab where both men stood, leaning over a worktable. Upon noticing her entry, Tony stood up straight and looked at her.
“That was fast.”
“The possibility of finding either of you dead is an effective way to make me hurry, Tony.”
“Don’t worry, we played nice.”
James kept leaning over the table, but raised his head. A mark had formed on his cheek, and Natasha could only raise an eyebrow at the implications. “Yes, I can see that,” she said, dryly, and Tony had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “What do you want me to do, Tony?”
“I need you to escort Bucky to Steve’s apartment. I don’t want anyone to see you, so be as stealthy as possible.”
Bucky let out a bemused snort, still looking at what Natasha now could identify as drawings. “We’re spies, Tony. Hell, we’re probably the best in the world. No one sees us unless we want them to.” He ended his sentence by looking directly at Tony, a smirk on his face, and Natasha wondered when they started to be on a first-name basis.
Men were so complicated.