All We Monsters (Howard Stark, Bucky Barnes |gen, R)
word-count: ~6,000
characters: Howard Stark, Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter
genre:gen, R
warnings: mind-control, graphic descriptions of injuries
story summary: a year after Howard Stark discovers the existence of the Winter Soldier, Bucky comes to Howard for help.
A sequel to Memories Like Bullets
Huge thanks to my beta cesperanza !
on AO3
Meyer took another sip. The scotch was strong, but smooth, better than any he'd ever tasted. He wasn't much of a scotch drinker anyway, but when Howard Stark invited you to drink with him, you didn't say no. "Thank you, sir."
"It's after midnight. We're having drinks. Don't sir me. Call me Mr. Stark."
"Oh-sure thing, Mister- "
Stark cocked an eyebrow. "Howard. You can call me Howard. Sheesh, Meyer, relax."
"Okay, Howard." Meyer looked out at the perfect darkness of the ocean sky. "We'll be done mapping sector 426 in three hours. Where do you want us to dock? Reykjavík or Hafnarfjörður?"
"Doesn't matter. Got a place to rest up and a charter plane waiting to take us home."
"In both towns, sir? I mean, Howard?"
"Of course. This is my fifteenth sweep here."
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry we didn't find anything."
"We never do. That stubborn bastard doesn't want to be found."
Meyer paused for a moment, considering his words. "Steve Rogers was a great man."
"Got that right," Stark said, refilling his glass. He held the bottle out to Meyer, and refilled his glass too.
"I...read in the papers that you worked on Project Rebirth. Were you close to him? "
"Sorta. Close to the research, anyway. And during the war, we..." Stark cleared his throat. "I helped where I could. Made him his shield. Armor, weapon, ammo upgrades for him and the Howling Commandos, that kind of thing."
"The Commandos," Meyer let out a low, drawn out whistle--you still in touch with any of them?"
"Sure. Dugan, Morita, Jones, Falsey and I get together twice a year for a nice steak dinner."
"That's great."
"Dernier...well you heard what happened to him." Howard raised his glass. "To Dernier."
Meyer held his glass out to Howard in a toast. "To Rogers and Barnes."
Stark blinked at him and drank without toasting. He set the empty glass down hard, stared at it a moment too long, cracked his knuckles, and said, "James Barnes didn't die in the war."
"Come again?"
Stark looked him in the eyes. "Sergeant Barnes, Captain America's best pal―he didn't die in the war. I saw him a year ago. A year ago, today."
"He's alive?"
"No, not anymore. But he was, and then he died helping me and―helping me escape." Stark belched and poured himself another glass. "Only bastard I ever knew that was brave enough to die twice."
"Maybe we should slow down with your special reserve here." Meyer reached for the bottle, but Howard yanked it away. "I'll slow down when I'm dead."
"Of course, sir," Meyer settled back against the wall and waited until Stark drifted asleep.
#
"Report, Meyer."
"We have not located the artifact. No new intel on Project Rebirth as of yet, but, Herr Kommandant--" Meyer swallowed. "Stark saw Project Winter Soldier. He knows it's Barnes. Recognized him. He believes Barnes sacrificed himself."
"Zemo's mess, yes. The Winter Soldier was compromised, and in his confused state, he let Howard Stark and that Carter woman escape."
"Stark is a security risk. Should we take him out?"
"Don't be a fool. If we're ever going to recreate the serum, we need him alive."
"But Herr Zola--"
"The only subject of Zola's that ever survived his serum attempts is Barnes. You've seen what happens to the others."
"I have, sir." Meyer repressed a shudder, and considered for a moment. "Capture Stark then, and use the Fennhoff device on him?"
"And risk damaging his mind?" The Kommandant scoffed. "This is why you're a soldier, not a leader." The Kommandant picked up the intercom phone and dialed the code for storage room three: live assets. "Wake him up."
"Sir?"
"Meyer, in your amateur opinion, what would you call a man--a business tycoon--who has dedicated nearly a decade of his life and spent a considerable amount of his fortune searching for a dead man drowned at sea?"
"A fool, sir."
"A dedicated fool. One might even say obsessed." He folded his arms behind his back and walked to the observation room. "We have been relying on his obsession to bring us Rogers' body, so that we could succeed where Zola has failed, but perhaps we don't need Rogers at all." The door to the calibration lab opened, and two techs wheeled in the large metal tank that held the Winter Soldier. "Stark won't tell us anything substantial about Project Rebirth, but what if we weren't the ones asking?"
"I don't understand."
"We're not going to kill Howard Stark, Meyer." Kommandant smiled. "We're going to give him James Barnes."
##
"Góða Nótt , Sabína. Góða Nótt , Rita. Enjoy the rest of the caviar." Howard teetered slightly on the step. The world was still a little quivery from all the hashish. But he felt good. Better, anyway. Relaxed enough that he could conceivably sleep at some point in the next few hours.
He exhaled into the freezing air, enjoying the feel of his mustache icing up instantly. Facial hair freeze had been unpleasant the first six times, but now it was just another part of the journey. Howard followed the little stone path around to the back of the spa and then made his way uphill, towards his private cabin. He'd built it a few years ago, after his tenth unsuccessful search for Steve had gotten him so depressed he'd refused to get off his boat until Jarvis had come and dragged him out. Jarvis had brought him here, which, as it turned out, was the best geothermal spa in the whole world, as far as Howard was concerned.
Two oil lamps framed the entrance to his cabin in a soft yellow glow, the snow beneath it glimmering golden. It made the place seem more homey and less cold, stoked the lingering heat in his belly from the pleasures of the night, kept him hovering above the ever-present pit of sorrow that was always there, threatening to swallow him whole.
The snow beneath his boots crunched as he got closer to the door. He fumbled in his plush bathrobe pocket for the keys, tried to remember which was the one for the door, and which the one to the spa's inn.
The night wind had gotten cold enough to bite, and he shuddered, crinkling his nose in an effort to get some feeling back into his face.
He narrowed his eyes, looking out into the darkness again. He couldn't see anything past the circle of warm light cast by the back-light. Not a damn thing. But there was something there, watching. He could feel eyes tracing him, feel the weight of them staring back - paranoia maybe, or exhaustion, or the hash. Whatever the cause, it left him wary, fingers hovering over the inner pocket of his robe, where he'd packed a small but lethal ray-gun. Well, not technically a ray, it was more of a laser really. Either way, it'd burn a hole straight through just about anything. Of course, it was far more likely a fox or a reindeer. And he didn't particularly want to shoot a laser hole through either.
But then, from the darkness, came a sound of distinctly human pain.
"Who's there?" Howard swallowed, making a mental note to scrap his whole proximity alarm system and start from scratch. And someone stepped out from the shadows, shuffling into the light. He raised his head, and Howard's stomach dropped. There was a ghost in his backyard.
The ghost staggered forward another step, limping wretchedly, one leg dragging behind. As he got closer, Howard saw the blood oozing out of the wound, the bone jutting out of his shin.
"Sergeant Barnes?" Howard asked; he looked a whole hell of a lot like James Barnes.
The man nodded. "Yes." His voice was weak and underlined with a gasp for air. He looked even shittier than the last time Howard had seen him.
"What's Steve's favorite ice cream?"
"What?"
Howard's fingers twitched, brushing against the gun. He didn't stand a chance against Barnes, he'd seen what he could do. But that didn't make his hand any less eager to hold a weapon, no matter how ineffective. "What's Steve's favorite ice cream?" he asked again.
"Steve..." Barnes' brow furrowed and then relaxed again, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Strawberry, it's strawberry."
Good, so he was himself. Or at least reasonably so.
Barnes took another step, and his knee buckled.
"Criminy," Howard cursed, lunging forwards. He caught Barnes just before he hit the ground. "I gotcha. I gotcha." He looped his arms under Barnes' shoulders. The poor bastard was heavier than he looked. A lot heavier. The prosthetic arm made his left side weigh a ton, and Howard let out a grunt as he nearly gave himself a hernia lugging him towards the door.
With more physical effort than he'd expended all year, Howard got Barnes into the cabin's hidden elevator and onto the operating table of his basement laboratory. Barnes was foaming at the mouth, generally a bad sign, so Howard adjusted the table, elevating his head. Barnes started to slump forward immediately, metal arm making him slide. "Whoa, whoa!" Howard said, pushing back against the arm with his hand, his shoulder, his whole damn torso. It wasn't easy, but eventually he got him upright again.
Howard took a short breath of relief and then started strapping Barnes in. "Sorry pal, gotta keep you steady if I'm gonna help you." The straps weren't gong to hold him for longer than a few seconds if Barnes decided he really wanted out. But at least now Howard would be able to get a blood sample and try to figure out what the hell was going on.
#
The stint wobbled in Howard's fingers as he pulled the syringe free. Barnes woke with a gasp and looked down at his arm, around the room, at Howard and back, eyes darting wildly.
"Good morning, Sergeant," Howard said. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been drugged," Barnes said, voice like gravel over whiskey.
"You were." Howard tapped a finger on the counter, next to the analyzer. "Whole cocktail of sedatives and neurotoxins: valium, lithium, and some stuff I've never even seen before. And I've seen a lot." He paused, chewing on his lip. "Not as much as you, clearly." He picked up the cup of water he'd set aside and offered it to Barnes, who drank the whole thing down in one go. "So what brings you here?"
"I'm here to kill you." Barnes handed the empty cup back.
"Oh." Howard took the empty cup, refilled it, and gulped it down, wishing it was scotch. He had some, upstairs. Good scotch, too.
Barnes pulled against the restraint holding his metal arm. It groaned but didn't give. But it wouldn't hold him long. Howard imagined it would give him about a thirty second head-start if he started running now.
"They told me to kill you," Barnes said, grimacing as he shifted his body in the chair. "But I--I remembered you, I remembered what you did for Steve, and for me."
Howard furrowed his brow. "What'd I do?"
"You made his shield―gave us that lightweight body armor. Plus that crazy-good scope you made for me." He smiled, and it looked so much like the Barnes from ten years ago that Howard wondered again if he'd fallen asleep at the spa under Rita's skilled hands and all of this was just a hash-fueled dream. It was a nice thought, but his queasy gut knew better. "Did Hydra follow you here?"
"They brought me here."
"I see." Howard cleared his throat. "So they're what, waiting patiently outside? Maybe I should invite them in for drinks."
"They're dead," Barnes said. "I killed them. Destroyed their transport plane and its recording device."
"Looks like they got in a good hit before you took them down," Howard said, gesturing at Barnes' leg.
Barnes blinked, slowly, deliberately. "No. The fail-safe implant went off."
"Fail-safe?" Howard squinted and looked at Barnes leg again. "Geez Louise, an explosive?" The damage looked too clean for that―more like a sloppy incision, but who knew, with super soldiers. He wasn't much of a biologist anyway.
"No, that cocktail of sedatives and neurotoxins you found was designed to keep me alive, but incapacitated. The fail-safe also triggers a localized tracking beacon. I disabled it before it went off."
"Disabled it how?"
Barnes pointed at his busted leg again. "It was grafted to the tibia. I took it out, and crushed it."
Howard swallowed back the tiny bit of bile in his mouth. "I need scotch. Hell - you need scotch."
"What else did you find?"
"Come again?" Howard blinked away the dots in his vision. He'd been up for a good fifty hours or so, not counting the few minutes he blacked out on the massage table.
"What else did you find in my blood?" There was an edge to his voice. More than a trace of the Winter Soldier's deadliness.
Howard's mouth went completely dry, and he froze―all his wit grinding to a halt―from exhaustion, from fear, from shame.
"You want to make more of it," Barnes said, and his voice cracked just a little around the edges. "The serum."
"I've been...asked, repeatedly, to recreate Erskine's formula."
"Hydra's been trying to do that since the war."
"Is that what they gave you?" Howard asked. Barnes looked away, but not before Howard caught that split-second of pain in his eyes.
"I don't know what they gave me. Can't remember most of it. I know Zola injected me with...something, more than once."
"Blue?"
Barnes nodded. "Blue, yellow, red, black, white. It all hurt."
Howard let his head hang. "For what it's worth, I am...I'm so sorry for what happened to you." He patted Barnes on the shoulder. Barnes jerked upright, then forced himself to look relaxed, which looked awkward and painful.
"Could you undo it?"
"Undo it?"
"Whatever they did to me, is there a way to reverse what they did?"
"You mean the serum, or what they did to your head?"
"All of it. Do you think you could make me like I was?"
Howard huffed, trying to think of how to sugarcoat something so awful. "The brain's a hell of a thing, buddy. I'm not the best biologist, but I know it well enough to tell you that the body's much more malleable than the brain."
When Barnes spoke again, his voice was softer, "Do you know Erskine's formula?"
"I told you, I--"
"I mean―would you recognize it if you saw it?"
"Depends."
"If you look at my cells, my blood, could you tell if it was Erskine's compound or something else? Could you tell the difference?"
"Well, see that's the thing..." Howard ran his fingers through his hair, let out a huff. He had the intricacies of Steve's cells burned into his retinas, that was for damn sure. "It ain't in the blood, not really. I mean it is but―that's why nobody's been able to duplicate what happened with Ste―with Project Rebirth." He steadied himself, watching Barnes carefully. Last thing he wanted to do was upset him further. "The reason Erskine's formula is so unique is that it doesn't just sit in the bloodstream. It fuses with the DNA. Takes what you're made of and...kinda amplifies it, from the inside out. So there's something here..." Howard gestured at the analyzer. "There are definite similarities, but I'd have to go way deeper to be sure, and even then―all I'd know for sure was how it changed you."
"I see." Barnes nodded to himself, swallowed and looked down at his toes. "You know...Steve―Steve was always great."
Howard's heart panged. "Yeah, he was."
"That's the bit nobody gets. Even when he was ninety pounds soaking wet." Barnes sniffled. "He was great. Bravest son of a gun I ever met."
"Nobody's ever said other―"
"But me. I'm not."
"Not what?"
"Not brave, not great. I didn't even want to go to war."
"Lot's of men―"
"So even if what's in me is the same stuff they gave Steve, it wouldn't have made a difference. I'd still be this. A freak. A monster."
Howard was at a loss for words. But only for a moment. "You're not―that's not what you are"
Barnes scoffed.
"Monsters are aware of their actions, they choose to be monstrous. And they don't care. Like Hydra."
"But I―"
"You--you didn't have a choice. They took that away from you."
"I almost got away."
Howard swallowed. He'd wondered if Barnes remembered their last encounter. "You did. You should've, but instead you sacrificed yourself and saved our hides."
Barnes looked at him, brow furrowed.
"Mine. And Peggy's too"
"Peggy..." Bucky blinked and a ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Toulon, she―" He cut himself off mid sentence and froze, lips parted then snapped out of it, voice wavering slightly. "Is she..."
Howard stared at him. "Peg? Peg's swell. "She's running her own division now."
"Division of what?"
Howard caught himself, cleared his throat. "You two were pretty close, huh?"
"The three of us were. Peggy and Steve, they--they shoulda..." He blinked and his eyes reddened just a touch. "They should have gone home together, after the war." His fist curled. "Steve should've never even gone to war."
"Well that's a load of crap. We'd all be at goose-stepping practice right now if he hadn't."
The grandfather clock upstairs rang. Barnes peered up towards the ceiling, listening. "It's six."
"Yeah, sun'll be up soon."
"If Hydra doesn't hear back from the team within the next two hours, they'll send back-up. We need to leave." He pulled on his restraints, snapping the one on the right, then the left. He stood, wobbly and a little green.
"Whoa, whoa, sit your rump back down before you keel over." Howard looked down at Barnes' leg. The wound was already starting to heal.
"We have to get out of here." Barnes glared at him, steadied himself on the cot.
"And go where?" Howard snapped, suddenly angry. It was easier than being terrified. Far more actionable. "They found me here. Where can we possibly go that Hydra won't find us?"
"Somewhere with a minimal populace, no airports, no harbors, no radio towers. No highways."
"I got just the place." Howard moved over to the wall in the back, and pulled a lever, opening the door to the tunnel he'd built. It led all the way to shore, and a boat.
#
The boat was quick, and impossible to detect by radar. It was one of Howard's favorite inventions, one he hadn't yet shared with anyone. He had no intention to―not these days, where every military official he met seemed shiftier than the next. He missed the old days. And with Barnes by his side he missed them even more acutely. Looking at him, he couldn't help but think of Steve too―imagined what it must've felt like to be Barnes-to be Captain America's right hand guy.
It took them just under four hours to get to their destination. Better than Howard had expected, but then he had tweaked the turbines not too long ago. He often outdid himself when he wasn't really thinking about it.
The inlet led right into a cave, where they dropped anchor, gathered the few supplies he'd had on board and headed inland, on foot.
#
"Pretty sure this meets your criteria," Howard said, watching as Barnes started his fourth perimeter sweep of the small hut. "No radio towers for miles, local population: three. That's us, plus the night watchman at the lighthouse which, i'll remind you, is ten miles from here."
"It'll do for tonight."
"Tonight? And then what?"
"We find somewhere else. We have to keep moving, or they'll find us."
"I'd tell you that you sound paranoid, but you're probably right." Howard said, rummaging through the cupboards. He'd never been to this particular safe house, but he'd bought it from a trusted friend a while back, just in case he had to stay out of sight for a while. No beds, no running water, not even an outhouse, but he'd made sure there was food and other essentials. "Aha!" He held up the small stack of D-Rations triumphantly.
Barnes squinted. "Are those leftover from the war?"
"Possibly," Howard said, sitting down next to him. "But they're edible, and we need food, so eat up."
"Got any water?"
"Not much," Howard said. "But I have wine."
"Oh good."
They ate and drank in peace. Howard found the D-Rat tasted even worse than he'd remembered, like somebody had started baking chocolate cake, left out half the ingredients and figured to Hell with it. Barnes, on the other hand, ate three of them in rapid succession, quickly and cleanly, like he hadn't had food in years, which unfortunately, was a distinct possibility. He drank the wine like it was water too, polishing off a bottle with ease, and starting on another.
"So I've been thinking," Howard said, trying to get comfortable on one of the thin roll-out mats. The floor however, was so uncomfortable, the mat so thin, that he sat up again, leaning his back against the wall, a foot or so away from Barnes. "About how to get you out of here, how to get you your life back."
"Not an option."
"You'd be surprised what you can do with heaps of cash. We could get you a new identity, change your hair and your face a little maybe, make it so they can't recognize you. You'll still be plenty pretty, don't worry."
"No, you don't understand. It's not just them. It's me."
"What do you mean?"
"I told you I'm―" His lips pulled back, teeth bared in anger. "You know what I've done. What they made me do."
"Yeah I do," Howard said, his own voice rising to match Barnes'. "Do you know what I've done? What I've invented? The weapons, the compounds, everything I made even though I knew I shouldn't. But I could, so I did. Do you have any idea how many people died because of me?" Howard waited for Barnes to break his gaze, but he never did. He scoffed, anger giving way to sorrow, and hung his head. "We're all monsters here, pal."
Barnes shifted where he sat, took another drink from his bottle. "What if I hurt you? Or Peg?"
"You wouldn't. You're not-you're not what they make you do, it's not you."
"It is. I remember some of it. Remember deciding how to aim the gun, when to pull the trigger. I just-I can't stop myself."
"But that was when they were in control. You got away! You have your freedom now."
"You don't know how easy it is for them to―"
"Yeah, I do. Fennhoff's been in my head, made me see things―do things."
"Fennhoff's gone. But Hydra still has control. It's like―like flipping a switch. And I can't stop them." Barnes sighed, slow and heavy. "I'd be better off dead."
"You know, if Peg were here right now she'd slap you just for saying that."
"Yeah," Bucky's lips curved. "She would." His smile wavered. "God I miss her. And Steve."
"Me too." Howard put his hand gently on top of Barnes'. "Me too."
"At least he didn't see me like this," Barnes said, barely above a whisper. "I'm thankful for that."
"He'd still be proud to call you his friend," Howard said. "I know I am."
Barnes huffed in disbelief, and in the darkness it was easy for Howard to pretend that he didn't see the way his eyes glistened. The exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and Howard felt himself drift to sleep, head lolling until he was resting on Barnes' shoulder.
#
Howard woke with a start. Barnes was standing next to the window, back pressed against the wall, gun in his hand. The fact that he'd had a gun, likely the whole time, was something Howard would have to think about later. He was sure he'd taken them all off of him when he was unconscious, but clearly he'd missed one.
Outside, a branch snapped. Leaves rustled beneath boots. There were people, lots of them, and they were getting closer.
"Zhelaniye," boomed a voice, amplified by a megaphone.
Barnes clenched his eyes together, and went pale as a sheet. "No..."
Howard pushed himself to his feet, the shock of impending capture easily as sobering as a gallon of coffee and a bucket of ice water. "What―what's going on?"
"Rzhavyy," the voice said. Another branch snapped, and another. They were surrounded.
"They're here," Barnes said through gritted teeth.
From his position, Howard could just barely see through the split in the window's tattered curtains. He saw a soldier in green and black, Russian-made rifle aimed at the door. "It's okay. I'll talk to them. You can get away."
"No. I can't."
"I'm not gonna leave you here Barnes―Bucky, I―"
"Semnadtsat’"
"Run!" Barnes growled. He slammed his fist against the wall, and the shooters outside opened fire. Barnes turned, tore the curtains off the window and shot, three times. Three soldiers fell. "Howard, go, or I'll kill you!"
Howard's heart hammered in his chest. "You won't. I trust you, I know you―"
"And I know you. You're going to help them make more of me."
"No, I'd never―"
"You will. They'll force you. Just like they force everybody. And I can't let that happen. So go. Now."
"Through the front door?"
"I've got your back. For a few more seconds."
"Rassvet."
Barnes slammed his head back against the wall, fists clenched, trembling. "Please.Run."
And Howard ran. Four soldiers aimed their weapons at him, four more shots fired. He heard them fall, the thumps of their bodies as they hit the snow.
He slid and skidded and ran as fast as he could, terror driving him forwards. He ran until his lungs felt like they were imploding, until his legs gave way and he collapsed. With the last of his strength, he stumbled to the outcropping where he'd hidden his boat, climbed in and curled up inside of it, shaking.
##
The bar was cold and dingy, and it stunk of decades of booze and smoke. Not a low-class joint, it had probably been real fine back in the day, judging by the detailed silver lining the sconces along the wall.
The barkeep had that awful kind of defeated dignity that people get when they've grown old in a place they once loved. He held his chin high, eyes narrowed as Meyer pulled the stack of bills from his pocket and slid them discreetly across the bar-top. But the old man nodded as his wrinkled hand closed over the bribe, and without looking back up again, he pointed one gnarled finger towards the piano in the back.
Meyer downed his whiskey, let it burn down his throat, and imagined it was smoke he was exhaling, and not just his breath in the chilled air. He crossed the room, heading straight back towards the men's room and caught a glimpse of his mark sitting alone at the piano. Sharing the bench with him were not one, but two mostly empty bottles of scotch.
For a few more seconds, Meyer stood there, watching Howard Stark's head droop and straighten again with the sharp jerk of somebody who'd had way too much to drink after being awake for too damn long. He reached for one of the bottles, and kept his fingers curled around the neck as his other hand pushed the ivory keys listlessly. His head bobbed again and then he stood, knocking both bottles to the floor. Meyer slipped into the bathroom, and waited.
A chair fell over, followed by muttered curses, and then Stark pushed open the men's room door, blinking against the flicker of the fluorescent bulb as he headed for the urinal.
"Every man has to go, sooner or later," Meyer said, stepping into the light.
Stark snorted. "That's good, that's funny." He zipped himself up and turned to Meyer. "You should be a...comedian." His faced paled, smile fading as recognition set in.
"You're probably right. I got the right temperament. Or that's what Ma used to say, anyways." He took a step towards Stark, who was looking distinctly less amused.
What're you doing here, Meyer?"
"Small world, right? I got a gig on another boat." He stuck his hands in his pockets, brushed his fingertips against the cool metal there.
"What boat?"
"The Epiphany, a whaling boat headed east." He'd have to be quick. Howard Stark had gotten away from countless others.
Howard swallowed, eyes darting down to Meyer's pockets. "Thought you hated whaling."
"Not if they pay me enough." He smiled and pulled his hand back out of his pocket, empty. He had more than one weapon at his disposal. "And this boat, they're going after a real special whale."
"Whatever they're paying, I'll triple it."
Meyer cocked an eyebrow. He'd never take money from Stark, not after what he'd done, but he could definitely fake considering it. "What do I gotta do, sir?"
"Leave the poor whale alone." Stark was reaching for his own pocket now, probably had some deadly gadget of his own on him. Meyer was running out of time. "He's just minding his own business."
Meyer chuckled, "Not this fish. It's always sticking its snout where it don't belong."
Stark drew a small gun and fired it just a fraction of a second too late. Meyer dodged the blast, shouting, "Polnoch!"
Instantly, Stark's eyes rolled up into his skull, and he collapsed.
Meyer caught his head just before it slammed against the tiles and lowered him gently to the floor. "You've been remarkably helpful, Howard. I'm gonna get promoted thanks to you." He pulled the neuro-neutralizer gloves from his jacket-pocket and slipped his hands inside, then put his metal-tipped fingertips on Howard's temples. "Hail Hydra."
##
"There you are."
Howard blinked against the light, eyelids heavy, and found Peggy looking down at him, her hair framing her face, like a soft-brown halo. "Peg...where--"
"We found you at the Sundhöllin Spa in Reykjavik. Rita called us, very concerned. Said you came in the middle of the night, muttering nonsense and collapsed. Wallet picked clean. Smelled like you hadn't showered in days." She pointed to his wrists. "Your cufflinks were missing."
Howard reached for where his cufflinks used to be. Most of them held miniature recording devices, though he couldn't, at the moment, recall which ones he'd been wearing. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything. "How long was I out?"
"Unconscious? Nearly twenty-four hours at Sundhöllin, before we came to get you. And you missed the whole flight back home."
"No loss there," Howard said. "Guess I needed the rest."
"Clearly." Peggy smiled at him, but it didn't hide the worry in her eyes. "Howard, what were you up to before you went back to Rita? The details we were able to gather sounded rather...dicey, even for you."
"Dicey?" Howard sat up, and immediately regretted it, as a blinding pain lanced through his skull. He clenched his eyes shut, wincing. "You can say that again. I don't even remember being at Sundhöllin, and not in a good way."
Peggy cocked an eyebrow. "What's the last thing you do remember?"
Thinking hurt; his brain ached in a way that felt more like an open wound than a migraine. "The search vessel. We were finishing up the route along the coasts of Iceland. We didn't find anything." He looked up at her, heart promptly heavier again. "We didn't find him."
"Howard, you left for that expedition five weeks ago. Your boat docked in Reykjavik two weeks ago."
Howard stared at her. "Two weeks." The uneasiness in his gut turned to dread. "Peggy, I don't remember reaching Reykjavik. I don't remember...anything."
#
Epilogue
December 16th, 1991
Howard chewed on his lip as he turned the corner, following the curving, narrow road. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His life had gone well for the most part, There'd been some real lows, but some real good points too―Maria and Tony, his happy little family. Well, mostly happy. Maria's presence by his side was a comfort. It always was. Even tonight, even when he knew, deep in his bones, that he'd damned them both. And Tony―Tony'd been so angry with them, he always was, because he was smart. As smart as his Dad, as perceptive as his mother. An inevitable and dangerous combination.
He wanted to see Tony grow up, he wanted to grow old with Maria. Well, older. His regrets were ten miles long, and his bucket list wasn't nearly as checked off as he'd hoped it would be by now. Too much work, not enough time. Never enough time.
Rain spattered against the windshield and he sniffled back the wetness in his own eyes. He wasn't being paranoid, he knew this was it for him. Could smell it in the air―a man can always sense his own end. But Maria―she shouldn't have been here with him, he'd tried to get her to leave, took her to the airport, nearly carried her onto the plane, but she refused to go, saying if he went through with this foolishness it was with her by his side, or not at all. They wouldn't kill them both, she said. They wouldn't dare.
But Hydra always dared. And Howard knew they'd lost their patience with him. He just had to hope they'd fallen for his ploy and he could get the last of his cargo away, hide it before it fell into the wrong hands. He couldn't bear to destroy it, not after all he'd gone through to get it right. He'd worked too hard. He couldn't bring Steve back, but maybe there'd be another. Maybe. He'd spent decades trying to get it right and then one night he woke up with the answer in his head, like he'd known it all along. Like he'd seen it before. Exactly how it fused to DNA, and why.
The motorcycle came out of nowhere.
They careened off the road and into a wall. Fast, so fast.
Howard's vision sputtered. He could taste blood in his mouth, oozing out of his nose, could feel his consciousness teetering on the brink. He grabbed for Maria's hand, but couldn't find it, clutching onto the fabric of her coat instead.
Boots sounded against the gravel. Someone was coming.
A hand grabbed him roughly by the hair, dragged him out of the car.
Howard blinked up to find a ghost staring down at him. "Sergeant Barnes?" he asked. Because the man looked a whole hell of a lot like James Barnes.
characters: Howard Stark, Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter
genre:gen, R
warnings: mind-control, graphic descriptions of injuries
story summary: a year after Howard Stark discovers the existence of the Winter Soldier, Bucky comes to Howard for help.
A sequel to Memories Like Bullets
Huge thanks to my beta cesperanza !
on AO3
Meyer took another sip. The scotch was strong, but smooth, better than any he'd ever tasted. He wasn't much of a scotch drinker anyway, but when Howard Stark invited you to drink with him, you didn't say no. "Thank you, sir."
"It's after midnight. We're having drinks. Don't sir me. Call me Mr. Stark."
"Oh-sure thing, Mister- "
Stark cocked an eyebrow. "Howard. You can call me Howard. Sheesh, Meyer, relax."
"Okay, Howard." Meyer looked out at the perfect darkness of the ocean sky. "We'll be done mapping sector 426 in three hours. Where do you want us to dock? Reykjavík or Hafnarfjörður?"
"Doesn't matter. Got a place to rest up and a charter plane waiting to take us home."
"In both towns, sir? I mean, Howard?"
"Of course. This is my fifteenth sweep here."
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry we didn't find anything."
"We never do. That stubborn bastard doesn't want to be found."
Meyer paused for a moment, considering his words. "Steve Rogers was a great man."
"Got that right," Stark said, refilling his glass. He held the bottle out to Meyer, and refilled his glass too.
"I...read in the papers that you worked on Project Rebirth. Were you close to him? "
"Sorta. Close to the research, anyway. And during the war, we..." Stark cleared his throat. "I helped where I could. Made him his shield. Armor, weapon, ammo upgrades for him and the Howling Commandos, that kind of thing."
"The Commandos," Meyer let out a low, drawn out whistle--you still in touch with any of them?"
"Sure. Dugan, Morita, Jones, Falsey and I get together twice a year for a nice steak dinner."
"That's great."
"Dernier...well you heard what happened to him." Howard raised his glass. "To Dernier."
Meyer held his glass out to Howard in a toast. "To Rogers and Barnes."
Stark blinked at him and drank without toasting. He set the empty glass down hard, stared at it a moment too long, cracked his knuckles, and said, "James Barnes didn't die in the war."
"Come again?"
Stark looked him in the eyes. "Sergeant Barnes, Captain America's best pal―he didn't die in the war. I saw him a year ago. A year ago, today."
"He's alive?"
"No, not anymore. But he was, and then he died helping me and―helping me escape." Stark belched and poured himself another glass. "Only bastard I ever knew that was brave enough to die twice."
"Maybe we should slow down with your special reserve here." Meyer reached for the bottle, but Howard yanked it away. "I'll slow down when I'm dead."
"Of course, sir," Meyer settled back against the wall and waited until Stark drifted asleep.
#
"Report, Meyer."
"We have not located the artifact. No new intel on Project Rebirth as of yet, but, Herr Kommandant--" Meyer swallowed. "Stark saw Project Winter Soldier. He knows it's Barnes. Recognized him. He believes Barnes sacrificed himself."
"Zemo's mess, yes. The Winter Soldier was compromised, and in his confused state, he let Howard Stark and that Carter woman escape."
"Stark is a security risk. Should we take him out?"
"Don't be a fool. If we're ever going to recreate the serum, we need him alive."
"But Herr Zola--"
"The only subject of Zola's that ever survived his serum attempts is Barnes. You've seen what happens to the others."
"I have, sir." Meyer repressed a shudder, and considered for a moment. "Capture Stark then, and use the Fennhoff device on him?"
"And risk damaging his mind?" The Kommandant scoffed. "This is why you're a soldier, not a leader." The Kommandant picked up the intercom phone and dialed the code for storage room three: live assets. "Wake him up."
"Sir?"
"Meyer, in your amateur opinion, what would you call a man--a business tycoon--who has dedicated nearly a decade of his life and spent a considerable amount of his fortune searching for a dead man drowned at sea?"
"A fool, sir."
"A dedicated fool. One might even say obsessed." He folded his arms behind his back and walked to the observation room. "We have been relying on his obsession to bring us Rogers' body, so that we could succeed where Zola has failed, but perhaps we don't need Rogers at all." The door to the calibration lab opened, and two techs wheeled in the large metal tank that held the Winter Soldier. "Stark won't tell us anything substantial about Project Rebirth, but what if we weren't the ones asking?"
"I don't understand."
"We're not going to kill Howard Stark, Meyer." Kommandant smiled. "We're going to give him James Barnes."
##
"Góða Nótt , Sabína. Góða Nótt , Rita. Enjoy the rest of the caviar." Howard teetered slightly on the step. The world was still a little quivery from all the hashish. But he felt good. Better, anyway. Relaxed enough that he could conceivably sleep at some point in the next few hours.
He exhaled into the freezing air, enjoying the feel of his mustache icing up instantly. Facial hair freeze had been unpleasant the first six times, but now it was just another part of the journey. Howard followed the little stone path around to the back of the spa and then made his way uphill, towards his private cabin. He'd built it a few years ago, after his tenth unsuccessful search for Steve had gotten him so depressed he'd refused to get off his boat until Jarvis had come and dragged him out. Jarvis had brought him here, which, as it turned out, was the best geothermal spa in the whole world, as far as Howard was concerned.
Two oil lamps framed the entrance to his cabin in a soft yellow glow, the snow beneath it glimmering golden. It made the place seem more homey and less cold, stoked the lingering heat in his belly from the pleasures of the night, kept him hovering above the ever-present pit of sorrow that was always there, threatening to swallow him whole.
The snow beneath his boots crunched as he got closer to the door. He fumbled in his plush bathrobe pocket for the keys, tried to remember which was the one for the door, and which the one to the spa's inn.
The night wind had gotten cold enough to bite, and he shuddered, crinkling his nose in an effort to get some feeling back into his face.
He narrowed his eyes, looking out into the darkness again. He couldn't see anything past the circle of warm light cast by the back-light. Not a damn thing. But there was something there, watching. He could feel eyes tracing him, feel the weight of them staring back - paranoia maybe, or exhaustion, or the hash. Whatever the cause, it left him wary, fingers hovering over the inner pocket of his robe, where he'd packed a small but lethal ray-gun. Well, not technically a ray, it was more of a laser really. Either way, it'd burn a hole straight through just about anything. Of course, it was far more likely a fox or a reindeer. And he didn't particularly want to shoot a laser hole through either.
But then, from the darkness, came a sound of distinctly human pain.
"Who's there?" Howard swallowed, making a mental note to scrap his whole proximity alarm system and start from scratch. And someone stepped out from the shadows, shuffling into the light. He raised his head, and Howard's stomach dropped. There was a ghost in his backyard.
The ghost staggered forward another step, limping wretchedly, one leg dragging behind. As he got closer, Howard saw the blood oozing out of the wound, the bone jutting out of his shin.
"Sergeant Barnes?" Howard asked; he looked a whole hell of a lot like James Barnes.
The man nodded. "Yes." His voice was weak and underlined with a gasp for air. He looked even shittier than the last time Howard had seen him.
"What's Steve's favorite ice cream?"
"What?"
Howard's fingers twitched, brushing against the gun. He didn't stand a chance against Barnes, he'd seen what he could do. But that didn't make his hand any less eager to hold a weapon, no matter how ineffective. "What's Steve's favorite ice cream?" he asked again.
"Steve..." Barnes' brow furrowed and then relaxed again, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Strawberry, it's strawberry."
Good, so he was himself. Or at least reasonably so.
Barnes took another step, and his knee buckled.
"Criminy," Howard cursed, lunging forwards. He caught Barnes just before he hit the ground. "I gotcha. I gotcha." He looped his arms under Barnes' shoulders. The poor bastard was heavier than he looked. A lot heavier. The prosthetic arm made his left side weigh a ton, and Howard let out a grunt as he nearly gave himself a hernia lugging him towards the door.
With more physical effort than he'd expended all year, Howard got Barnes into the cabin's hidden elevator and onto the operating table of his basement laboratory. Barnes was foaming at the mouth, generally a bad sign, so Howard adjusted the table, elevating his head. Barnes started to slump forward immediately, metal arm making him slide. "Whoa, whoa!" Howard said, pushing back against the arm with his hand, his shoulder, his whole damn torso. It wasn't easy, but eventually he got him upright again.
Howard took a short breath of relief and then started strapping Barnes in. "Sorry pal, gotta keep you steady if I'm gonna help you." The straps weren't gong to hold him for longer than a few seconds if Barnes decided he really wanted out. But at least now Howard would be able to get a blood sample and try to figure out what the hell was going on.
#
The stint wobbled in Howard's fingers as he pulled the syringe free. Barnes woke with a gasp and looked down at his arm, around the room, at Howard and back, eyes darting wildly.
"Good morning, Sergeant," Howard said. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been drugged," Barnes said, voice like gravel over whiskey.
"You were." Howard tapped a finger on the counter, next to the analyzer. "Whole cocktail of sedatives and neurotoxins: valium, lithium, and some stuff I've never even seen before. And I've seen a lot." He paused, chewing on his lip. "Not as much as you, clearly." He picked up the cup of water he'd set aside and offered it to Barnes, who drank the whole thing down in one go. "So what brings you here?"
"I'm here to kill you." Barnes handed the empty cup back.
"Oh." Howard took the empty cup, refilled it, and gulped it down, wishing it was scotch. He had some, upstairs. Good scotch, too.
Barnes pulled against the restraint holding his metal arm. It groaned but didn't give. But it wouldn't hold him long. Howard imagined it would give him about a thirty second head-start if he started running now.
"They told me to kill you," Barnes said, grimacing as he shifted his body in the chair. "But I--I remembered you, I remembered what you did for Steve, and for me."
Howard furrowed his brow. "What'd I do?"
"You made his shield―gave us that lightweight body armor. Plus that crazy-good scope you made for me." He smiled, and it looked so much like the Barnes from ten years ago that Howard wondered again if he'd fallen asleep at the spa under Rita's skilled hands and all of this was just a hash-fueled dream. It was a nice thought, but his queasy gut knew better. "Did Hydra follow you here?"
"They brought me here."
"I see." Howard cleared his throat. "So they're what, waiting patiently outside? Maybe I should invite them in for drinks."
"They're dead," Barnes said. "I killed them. Destroyed their transport plane and its recording device."
"Looks like they got in a good hit before you took them down," Howard said, gesturing at Barnes' leg.
Barnes blinked, slowly, deliberately. "No. The fail-safe implant went off."
"Fail-safe?" Howard squinted and looked at Barnes leg again. "Geez Louise, an explosive?" The damage looked too clean for that―more like a sloppy incision, but who knew, with super soldiers. He wasn't much of a biologist anyway.
"No, that cocktail of sedatives and neurotoxins you found was designed to keep me alive, but incapacitated. The fail-safe also triggers a localized tracking beacon. I disabled it before it went off."
"Disabled it how?"
Barnes pointed at his busted leg again. "It was grafted to the tibia. I took it out, and crushed it."
Howard swallowed back the tiny bit of bile in his mouth. "I need scotch. Hell - you need scotch."
"What else did you find?"
"Come again?" Howard blinked away the dots in his vision. He'd been up for a good fifty hours or so, not counting the few minutes he blacked out on the massage table.
"What else did you find in my blood?" There was an edge to his voice. More than a trace of the Winter Soldier's deadliness.
Howard's mouth went completely dry, and he froze―all his wit grinding to a halt―from exhaustion, from fear, from shame.
"You want to make more of it," Barnes said, and his voice cracked just a little around the edges. "The serum."
"I've been...asked, repeatedly, to recreate Erskine's formula."
"Hydra's been trying to do that since the war."
"Is that what they gave you?" Howard asked. Barnes looked away, but not before Howard caught that split-second of pain in his eyes.
"I don't know what they gave me. Can't remember most of it. I know Zola injected me with...something, more than once."
"Blue?"
Barnes nodded. "Blue, yellow, red, black, white. It all hurt."
Howard let his head hang. "For what it's worth, I am...I'm so sorry for what happened to you." He patted Barnes on the shoulder. Barnes jerked upright, then forced himself to look relaxed, which looked awkward and painful.
"Could you undo it?"
"Undo it?"
"Whatever they did to me, is there a way to reverse what they did?"
"You mean the serum, or what they did to your head?"
"All of it. Do you think you could make me like I was?"
Howard huffed, trying to think of how to sugarcoat something so awful. "The brain's a hell of a thing, buddy. I'm not the best biologist, but I know it well enough to tell you that the body's much more malleable than the brain."
When Barnes spoke again, his voice was softer, "Do you know Erskine's formula?"
"I told you, I--"
"I mean―would you recognize it if you saw it?"
"Depends."
"If you look at my cells, my blood, could you tell if it was Erskine's compound or something else? Could you tell the difference?"
"Well, see that's the thing..." Howard ran his fingers through his hair, let out a huff. He had the intricacies of Steve's cells burned into his retinas, that was for damn sure. "It ain't in the blood, not really. I mean it is but―that's why nobody's been able to duplicate what happened with Ste―with Project Rebirth." He steadied himself, watching Barnes carefully. Last thing he wanted to do was upset him further. "The reason Erskine's formula is so unique is that it doesn't just sit in the bloodstream. It fuses with the DNA. Takes what you're made of and...kinda amplifies it, from the inside out. So there's something here..." Howard gestured at the analyzer. "There are definite similarities, but I'd have to go way deeper to be sure, and even then―all I'd know for sure was how it changed you."
"I see." Barnes nodded to himself, swallowed and looked down at his toes. "You know...Steve―Steve was always great."
Howard's heart panged. "Yeah, he was."
"That's the bit nobody gets. Even when he was ninety pounds soaking wet." Barnes sniffled. "He was great. Bravest son of a gun I ever met."
"Nobody's ever said other―"
"But me. I'm not."
"Not what?"
"Not brave, not great. I didn't even want to go to war."
"Lot's of men―"
"So even if what's in me is the same stuff they gave Steve, it wouldn't have made a difference. I'd still be this. A freak. A monster."
Howard was at a loss for words. But only for a moment. "You're not―that's not what you are"
Barnes scoffed.
"Monsters are aware of their actions, they choose to be monstrous. And they don't care. Like Hydra."
"But I―"
"You--you didn't have a choice. They took that away from you."
"I almost got away."
Howard swallowed. He'd wondered if Barnes remembered their last encounter. "You did. You should've, but instead you sacrificed yourself and saved our hides."
Barnes looked at him, brow furrowed.
"Mine. And Peggy's too"
"Peggy..." Bucky blinked and a ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Toulon, she―" He cut himself off mid sentence and froze, lips parted then snapped out of it, voice wavering slightly. "Is she..."
Howard stared at him. "Peg? Peg's swell. "She's running her own division now."
"Division of what?"
Howard caught himself, cleared his throat. "You two were pretty close, huh?"
"The three of us were. Peggy and Steve, they--they shoulda..." He blinked and his eyes reddened just a touch. "They should have gone home together, after the war." His fist curled. "Steve should've never even gone to war."
"Well that's a load of crap. We'd all be at goose-stepping practice right now if he hadn't."
The grandfather clock upstairs rang. Barnes peered up towards the ceiling, listening. "It's six."
"Yeah, sun'll be up soon."
"If Hydra doesn't hear back from the team within the next two hours, they'll send back-up. We need to leave." He pulled on his restraints, snapping the one on the right, then the left. He stood, wobbly and a little green.
"Whoa, whoa, sit your rump back down before you keel over." Howard looked down at Barnes' leg. The wound was already starting to heal.
"We have to get out of here." Barnes glared at him, steadied himself on the cot.
"And go where?" Howard snapped, suddenly angry. It was easier than being terrified. Far more actionable. "They found me here. Where can we possibly go that Hydra won't find us?"
"Somewhere with a minimal populace, no airports, no harbors, no radio towers. No highways."
"I got just the place." Howard moved over to the wall in the back, and pulled a lever, opening the door to the tunnel he'd built. It led all the way to shore, and a boat.
#
The boat was quick, and impossible to detect by radar. It was one of Howard's favorite inventions, one he hadn't yet shared with anyone. He had no intention to―not these days, where every military official he met seemed shiftier than the next. He missed the old days. And with Barnes by his side he missed them even more acutely. Looking at him, he couldn't help but think of Steve too―imagined what it must've felt like to be Barnes-to be Captain America's right hand guy.
It took them just under four hours to get to their destination. Better than Howard had expected, but then he had tweaked the turbines not too long ago. He often outdid himself when he wasn't really thinking about it.
The inlet led right into a cave, where they dropped anchor, gathered the few supplies he'd had on board and headed inland, on foot.
#
"Pretty sure this meets your criteria," Howard said, watching as Barnes started his fourth perimeter sweep of the small hut. "No radio towers for miles, local population: three. That's us, plus the night watchman at the lighthouse which, i'll remind you, is ten miles from here."
"It'll do for tonight."
"Tonight? And then what?"
"We find somewhere else. We have to keep moving, or they'll find us."
"I'd tell you that you sound paranoid, but you're probably right." Howard said, rummaging through the cupboards. He'd never been to this particular safe house, but he'd bought it from a trusted friend a while back, just in case he had to stay out of sight for a while. No beds, no running water, not even an outhouse, but he'd made sure there was food and other essentials. "Aha!" He held up the small stack of D-Rations triumphantly.
Barnes squinted. "Are those leftover from the war?"
"Possibly," Howard said, sitting down next to him. "But they're edible, and we need food, so eat up."
"Got any water?"
"Not much," Howard said. "But I have wine."
"Oh good."
They ate and drank in peace. Howard found the D-Rat tasted even worse than he'd remembered, like somebody had started baking chocolate cake, left out half the ingredients and figured to Hell with it. Barnes, on the other hand, ate three of them in rapid succession, quickly and cleanly, like he hadn't had food in years, which unfortunately, was a distinct possibility. He drank the wine like it was water too, polishing off a bottle with ease, and starting on another.
"So I've been thinking," Howard said, trying to get comfortable on one of the thin roll-out mats. The floor however, was so uncomfortable, the mat so thin, that he sat up again, leaning his back against the wall, a foot or so away from Barnes. "About how to get you out of here, how to get you your life back."
"Not an option."
"You'd be surprised what you can do with heaps of cash. We could get you a new identity, change your hair and your face a little maybe, make it so they can't recognize you. You'll still be plenty pretty, don't worry."
"No, you don't understand. It's not just them. It's me."
"What do you mean?"
"I told you I'm―" His lips pulled back, teeth bared in anger. "You know what I've done. What they made me do."
"Yeah I do," Howard said, his own voice rising to match Barnes'. "Do you know what I've done? What I've invented? The weapons, the compounds, everything I made even though I knew I shouldn't. But I could, so I did. Do you have any idea how many people died because of me?" Howard waited for Barnes to break his gaze, but he never did. He scoffed, anger giving way to sorrow, and hung his head. "We're all monsters here, pal."
Barnes shifted where he sat, took another drink from his bottle. "What if I hurt you? Or Peg?"
"You wouldn't. You're not-you're not what they make you do, it's not you."
"It is. I remember some of it. Remember deciding how to aim the gun, when to pull the trigger. I just-I can't stop myself."
"But that was when they were in control. You got away! You have your freedom now."
"You don't know how easy it is for them to―"
"Yeah, I do. Fennhoff's been in my head, made me see things―do things."
"Fennhoff's gone. But Hydra still has control. It's like―like flipping a switch. And I can't stop them." Barnes sighed, slow and heavy. "I'd be better off dead."
"You know, if Peg were here right now she'd slap you just for saying that."
"Yeah," Bucky's lips curved. "She would." His smile wavered. "God I miss her. And Steve."
"Me too." Howard put his hand gently on top of Barnes'. "Me too."
"At least he didn't see me like this," Barnes said, barely above a whisper. "I'm thankful for that."
"He'd still be proud to call you his friend," Howard said. "I know I am."
Barnes huffed in disbelief, and in the darkness it was easy for Howard to pretend that he didn't see the way his eyes glistened. The exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and Howard felt himself drift to sleep, head lolling until he was resting on Barnes' shoulder.
#
Howard woke with a start. Barnes was standing next to the window, back pressed against the wall, gun in his hand. The fact that he'd had a gun, likely the whole time, was something Howard would have to think about later. He was sure he'd taken them all off of him when he was unconscious, but clearly he'd missed one.
Outside, a branch snapped. Leaves rustled beneath boots. There were people, lots of them, and they were getting closer.
"Zhelaniye," boomed a voice, amplified by a megaphone.
Barnes clenched his eyes together, and went pale as a sheet. "No..."
Howard pushed himself to his feet, the shock of impending capture easily as sobering as a gallon of coffee and a bucket of ice water. "What―what's going on?"
"Rzhavyy," the voice said. Another branch snapped, and another. They were surrounded.
"They're here," Barnes said through gritted teeth.
From his position, Howard could just barely see through the split in the window's tattered curtains. He saw a soldier in green and black, Russian-made rifle aimed at the door. "It's okay. I'll talk to them. You can get away."
"No. I can't."
"I'm not gonna leave you here Barnes―Bucky, I―"
"Semnadtsat’"
"Run!" Barnes growled. He slammed his fist against the wall, and the shooters outside opened fire. Barnes turned, tore the curtains off the window and shot, three times. Three soldiers fell. "Howard, go, or I'll kill you!"
Howard's heart hammered in his chest. "You won't. I trust you, I know you―"
"And I know you. You're going to help them make more of me."
"No, I'd never―"
"You will. They'll force you. Just like they force everybody. And I can't let that happen. So go. Now."
"Through the front door?"
"I've got your back. For a few more seconds."
"Rassvet."
Barnes slammed his head back against the wall, fists clenched, trembling. "Please.Run."
And Howard ran. Four soldiers aimed their weapons at him, four more shots fired. He heard them fall, the thumps of their bodies as they hit the snow.
He slid and skidded and ran as fast as he could, terror driving him forwards. He ran until his lungs felt like they were imploding, until his legs gave way and he collapsed. With the last of his strength, he stumbled to the outcropping where he'd hidden his boat, climbed in and curled up inside of it, shaking.
##
The bar was cold and dingy, and it stunk of decades of booze and smoke. Not a low-class joint, it had probably been real fine back in the day, judging by the detailed silver lining the sconces along the wall.
The barkeep had that awful kind of defeated dignity that people get when they've grown old in a place they once loved. He held his chin high, eyes narrowed as Meyer pulled the stack of bills from his pocket and slid them discreetly across the bar-top. But the old man nodded as his wrinkled hand closed over the bribe, and without looking back up again, he pointed one gnarled finger towards the piano in the back.
Meyer downed his whiskey, let it burn down his throat, and imagined it was smoke he was exhaling, and not just his breath in the chilled air. He crossed the room, heading straight back towards the men's room and caught a glimpse of his mark sitting alone at the piano. Sharing the bench with him were not one, but two mostly empty bottles of scotch.
For a few more seconds, Meyer stood there, watching Howard Stark's head droop and straighten again with the sharp jerk of somebody who'd had way too much to drink after being awake for too damn long. He reached for one of the bottles, and kept his fingers curled around the neck as his other hand pushed the ivory keys listlessly. His head bobbed again and then he stood, knocking both bottles to the floor. Meyer slipped into the bathroom, and waited.
A chair fell over, followed by muttered curses, and then Stark pushed open the men's room door, blinking against the flicker of the fluorescent bulb as he headed for the urinal.
"Every man has to go, sooner or later," Meyer said, stepping into the light.
Stark snorted. "That's good, that's funny." He zipped himself up and turned to Meyer. "You should be a...comedian." His faced paled, smile fading as recognition set in.
"You're probably right. I got the right temperament. Or that's what Ma used to say, anyways." He took a step towards Stark, who was looking distinctly less amused.
What're you doing here, Meyer?"
"Small world, right? I got a gig on another boat." He stuck his hands in his pockets, brushed his fingertips against the cool metal there.
"What boat?"
"The Epiphany, a whaling boat headed east." He'd have to be quick. Howard Stark had gotten away from countless others.
Howard swallowed, eyes darting down to Meyer's pockets. "Thought you hated whaling."
"Not if they pay me enough." He smiled and pulled his hand back out of his pocket, empty. He had more than one weapon at his disposal. "And this boat, they're going after a real special whale."
"Whatever they're paying, I'll triple it."
Meyer cocked an eyebrow. He'd never take money from Stark, not after what he'd done, but he could definitely fake considering it. "What do I gotta do, sir?"
"Leave the poor whale alone." Stark was reaching for his own pocket now, probably had some deadly gadget of his own on him. Meyer was running out of time. "He's just minding his own business."
Meyer chuckled, "Not this fish. It's always sticking its snout where it don't belong."
Stark drew a small gun and fired it just a fraction of a second too late. Meyer dodged the blast, shouting, "Polnoch!"
Instantly, Stark's eyes rolled up into his skull, and he collapsed.
Meyer caught his head just before it slammed against the tiles and lowered him gently to the floor. "You've been remarkably helpful, Howard. I'm gonna get promoted thanks to you." He pulled the neuro-neutralizer gloves from his jacket-pocket and slipped his hands inside, then put his metal-tipped fingertips on Howard's temples. "Hail Hydra."
##
"There you are."
Howard blinked against the light, eyelids heavy, and found Peggy looking down at him, her hair framing her face, like a soft-brown halo. "Peg...where--"
"We found you at the Sundhöllin Spa in Reykjavik. Rita called us, very concerned. Said you came in the middle of the night, muttering nonsense and collapsed. Wallet picked clean. Smelled like you hadn't showered in days." She pointed to his wrists. "Your cufflinks were missing."
Howard reached for where his cufflinks used to be. Most of them held miniature recording devices, though he couldn't, at the moment, recall which ones he'd been wearing. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything. "How long was I out?"
"Unconscious? Nearly twenty-four hours at Sundhöllin, before we came to get you. And you missed the whole flight back home."
"No loss there," Howard said. "Guess I needed the rest."
"Clearly." Peggy smiled at him, but it didn't hide the worry in her eyes. "Howard, what were you up to before you went back to Rita? The details we were able to gather sounded rather...dicey, even for you."
"Dicey?" Howard sat up, and immediately regretted it, as a blinding pain lanced through his skull. He clenched his eyes shut, wincing. "You can say that again. I don't even remember being at Sundhöllin, and not in a good way."
Peggy cocked an eyebrow. "What's the last thing you do remember?"
Thinking hurt; his brain ached in a way that felt more like an open wound than a migraine. "The search vessel. We were finishing up the route along the coasts of Iceland. We didn't find anything." He looked up at her, heart promptly heavier again. "We didn't find him."
"Howard, you left for that expedition five weeks ago. Your boat docked in Reykjavik two weeks ago."
Howard stared at her. "Two weeks." The uneasiness in his gut turned to dread. "Peggy, I don't remember reaching Reykjavik. I don't remember...anything."
#
Epilogue
December 16th, 1991
Howard chewed on his lip as he turned the corner, following the curving, narrow road. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His life had gone well for the most part, There'd been some real lows, but some real good points too―Maria and Tony, his happy little family. Well, mostly happy. Maria's presence by his side was a comfort. It always was. Even tonight, even when he knew, deep in his bones, that he'd damned them both. And Tony―Tony'd been so angry with them, he always was, because he was smart. As smart as his Dad, as perceptive as his mother. An inevitable and dangerous combination.
He wanted to see Tony grow up, he wanted to grow old with Maria. Well, older. His regrets were ten miles long, and his bucket list wasn't nearly as checked off as he'd hoped it would be by now. Too much work, not enough time. Never enough time.
Rain spattered against the windshield and he sniffled back the wetness in his own eyes. He wasn't being paranoid, he knew this was it for him. Could smell it in the air―a man can always sense his own end. But Maria―she shouldn't have been here with him, he'd tried to get her to leave, took her to the airport, nearly carried her onto the plane, but she refused to go, saying if he went through with this foolishness it was with her by his side, or not at all. They wouldn't kill them both, she said. They wouldn't dare.
But Hydra always dared. And Howard knew they'd lost their patience with him. He just had to hope they'd fallen for his ploy and he could get the last of his cargo away, hide it before it fell into the wrong hands. He couldn't bear to destroy it, not after all he'd gone through to get it right. He'd worked too hard. He couldn't bring Steve back, but maybe there'd be another. Maybe. He'd spent decades trying to get it right and then one night he woke up with the answer in his head, like he'd known it all along. Like he'd seen it before. Exactly how it fused to DNA, and why.
The motorcycle came out of nowhere.
They careened off the road and into a wall. Fast, so fast.
Howard's vision sputtered. He could taste blood in his mouth, oozing out of his nose, could feel his consciousness teetering on the brink. He grabbed for Maria's hand, but couldn't find it, clutching onto the fabric of her coat instead.
Boots sounded against the gravel. Someone was coming.
A hand grabbed him roughly by the hair, dragged him out of the car.
Howard blinked up to find a ghost staring down at him. "Sergeant Barnes?" he asked. Because the man looked a whole hell of a lot like James Barnes.