Release, 2/5. NC-17.
Title: Release
Series: #18 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Steve/Sif
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Alludes to events in prior stories and outright references others. References for Red Room mindfuckery, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Everyone was see-sawing into some kind of equilibrium. Sometimes, it didn't even get traumatic.
Previous chapter:
One - Pride
Two - Connections
"Don't do this, Yelena," Natasha murmured. She was sitting on a metal folding chair, her hands bound in front of her, her ankles tied to the chair with hemp. She was practically naked, dressed only a lace-trimmed black slip. There weren't even panties. A bucket of cold water had been tossed at her, and she was shivering now, her nipples so taut and peaked they could have cut glass in the cold room.
Yelena dressed in an old fashioned white nightgown, tiny blue forget me nots printed on the fabric. The white eyelet lace trim at the hems made her seem so innocent, but Natasha could only see her back. Yelena's bright yellow hair was drawn back into twin braids on either side of her head, as if she was nothing more than a child's china doll. She was focused on whatever it was in front of her, and Natasha didn't know what it was. She didn't know why she was so afraid, why the chill continued to roll down her spine.
And then Yelena turned around. Her eyes were empty sockets, darkness pooling in them. Her lips were stretched back in a deathly grin, the kind seen on Greek statuary. Her throat was slit deeply, splashes of brilliant scarlet blood down the entire front of her nightgown.
In her hands were jumper cables. The other end was connected to a car battery, and she approached as if floating.
"You killed me," she said, her throat sounding full of grave dirt. "It's only fair I return the favor."
Natasha shot awake, nearly screaming.
James was instantly alert; he had been sitting in the chair in her bedroom instead of lying in the bed beside her. He had been there when she went to sleep. Had he gotten up so he could have better sight lines for all modes of entry into the room? It sounded like something that he might do, thinking his only job now was to protect her.
It wasn't as if she had anything else to offer him.
Swinging her feet around, she sat up in bed, back hunched a little. He instantly got up and moved to sit at her side, eyes curious but expression otherwise blank. Natasha looked at James, feeling almost a little lost. That sensation reminded her of Yelena, when she tried acting forceful and almost like Starkovsky. Was that part of the reason why it had been easier not to argue? But she was also tired and heartsick, any hope burned out of her.
Taking James' hand in hers, she traced the smooth plating on the back of it. "What do you want for your future, now that you'll have one?" Even SHIELD had no idea he was still alive, and she couldn't be opposed to that. They wouldn't kill him, but being locked away in the Cube or experimented on wasn't a better alternative.
"I don't know. I've followed orders so long, I don't know what else to do."
"Do you remember anything from before? When you were Bucky Barnes?"
He paused, eyes fixed on the metal hand clasped between them. "I don't like to. They made sure it would hurt me."
Leaning into him, she brought his hand to her mouth and gently kissed it. "What do you remember? Don't recall it now, just the general idea of it. We have to see if it's worth it."
"They're my memories. My sister Becky, my Ma and Dad, and I think Steve, but he doesn't look the same. Skinny and small, bloody from a fight."
"That's him, all right," she said with a wry smile.
He relaxed a little. "I wasn't sure. I think it would be worth it to remember. I'm not him, but he seems like a nice guy."
"I think you're more like him than you think. I think that's what made me take notice and love you," she said softly.
James tightened his grip on her hand. "Love is dangerous, Natalia."
"It can be. Or it can save us."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm starting to see a therapist. Iron clad confidentiality clauses, on Stark's payroll. Someone with no conflicts, no ulterior motives. If it works out with her, maybe you could, too."
"But why?" he asked, baffled.
"So I stop blaming myself for Yelena's madness. So I stop feeling like there's something wrong with me. So I figure out who I am again. I've broken myself apart for everyone else, and I don't even remember why anymore. I want to try to wipe out the red in my ledger, but what's the point? Why does it matter?"
"Because you save people," James said. "If you didn't, I wouldn't be here. Thousands or tens of thousands wouldn't be alive. I think if the Red Room never got their hands on you, that you would take care of others. I think that is who you are."
Natasha pressed her lips to his cheek. "So we both have better opinions of each other than ourselves, hm?"
James laughed, unamused. "Seems so."
She took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged gently. "Do you know if you were the kind to follow directions before? Or is that new?"
"I think..." he began uncertainly, "I think I was good at it, but ones I didn't like, I wouldn't follow. Now, I've followed directions I don't like."
"Such as?"
"Some kill on sight orders," he replied easily.
"Anything I've asked you to do?"
"No! Never!"
"And if Loki asked you to do anything..."
"In or out of the bedroom?"
"Either," Natasha admitted. "He's around a lot. He hasn't got anywhere else to go. If I go back to Asgard, you could probably come with me, but he couldn't."
James paused to consider her words. "If he's like a CO? Maybe. Like Hydra or Department X? No. I won't be their patsy again."
Natasha nodded. "Then maybe we can figure something out, the three of us."
"Because he still loves you. And I love you." James cupped her face in his hand. "I'd do anything for you, anything. And I get the feeling he might, too."
"I'd never abuse that trust."
"I know. And I think he does, too."
Natasha leaned in to kiss him, soft and tender, tongue sliding across the seam in his lips. He parted them immediately, letting her invade his mouth with her tongue. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. For always."
He grinned, arms loose around her. "I love you, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Even when I didn't know who I was or where I was, I always knew you were what I needed."
She kissed him again, slow and sweet. "And how do we add Loki to this? Or add you to what I had with him?"
"Carefully," James said quietly. "He'll run if you don't. He hangs the moon on your word, but he's got a sense of pride I don't. Department X made sure of that."
"I'm sorry," Natasha murmured.
"Wasn't your fault. Zola got me, is all. It was before you were born."
She threaded her hands through his hair and nipped at his lips. "You deserve so much more than what you've gotten, James."
"I got you now, don't I?" He brushed aside her tears. "None of that, Natalia. You and I, we don't get chances like this when the Red Room or Department X gets us. We've got this chance, and we're gonna take it, aren't we?"
He sounded so dependent on her, as if he had no will of his own. What have they done over the years that she hadn't been aware of? How much damage was there to fix?
Natasha tried to smile as she touched her forehead to his. "Of course we are."
***
Frigga arrived in the locked laboratory floor with three handmaidens skilled in seidr to a small degree. The human children had baby magic at best, and these handmaidens were at least far enough along in their training that they could handle baby magic. The best of the mortal children was the brunette Romani girl that was nicknaming herself Scarlet Witch for her red colored magic bursts. She was easily picked out amongst the children by the fact that she was the oldest and most alert of all of them in the lab. A faint red aura surrounded her hands, and her twin brother looked poised to take flight.
Raising her hand in a peaceful gesture, Frigga looked at all of the children. Food and clothing had been left, but there had been no actual supervision so far. So of course the entire place was a mess, children were unwashed, and there were stains of dubious quality on the floor and walls, some of which actually were in the shape of a little hand.
"Oh, no, this simply will not do," she declared, looking around. "No one can learn in such a filthy environment. I see Loki simply cannot see to others' needs that well."
"What do you want from us?" Wanda asked, eyes narrowing as she took in the exquisite fabric and jewels of Frigga's gown.
"To teach you how to properly use your magic, of course," she replied. She turned and gestured for her handmaidens. "There are facilities here for cleansing, though they are not like ours. If it's simply too much bother, we can transport them all to the palace and simply do the cleanup and the lessons there."
One of the young children, perhaps six or seven in age, stared at Frigga. "You live in a palace."
"Yes. I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard. I have come because I heard you have need of being taught the finer points of using your magical abilities." She smiled in a fond kind of way. "If there is one thing I do enjoy, it is teaching others about the seidr." She looked at Wanda with an appraising eye. "You could perhaps learn how to manipulate the spá. That seems to be an additional role your magic can take, difficult and very dangerous indeed."
"A spa is dangerous," she scoffed. The aura around her hands grew stronger, visible even to those unfamiliar with the seidr.
"No, child," Frigga corrected. "The spá. involves the weave and flow of fate. To change one's fate, to alter their destiny... That is work that could destroy entire worlds."
Wanda appeared uncomfortable, and the other children looked at her in awe. "I'm not a world destroyer. It doesn't matter what that freak said, I'm not a destroyer."
Frigga raised an eyebrow in silent challenge. "Perhaps you need to learn to take a longer view of things." She turned to her handmaidens and nodded sharply. "Make your assessments so we may figure out how best to educate the children."
There was chaos and confusion as children were grasped and marched toward the bathroom. Any attempts at scrubbing were met with frustrated yells and tantrums from the very young ones. Even Wanda and Pietro looked ready to revolt. Frigga sighed and opened a portal into her training chambers, not far from her own secondary suite in the palace. One of her handmaidens remained behind to cleanse the lab using magic, muttering all the while about leaving wild children to their own devices.
"The first lesson," Frigga declared with a gimlet eye toward all thirty-one of the Baron's "children," "is self-respect. If you respect yourself as a creature of agency and willpower, ready to take on consequences, you will be able to perform magic properly."
"I respect myself just fine, and I do magic just fine," Wanda said, throwing a red energy blast in Frigga's general direction as a warning.
Frigga simply made a circular motion with her hands, sending the blast right back in Wanda's direction. She ducked, hands flying up, and the arc of red energy flew into the ceiling. Stone chips, plaster and paint rained down over her head.
"This is not 'just fine,'" Frigga corrected archly. "This is spiteful energies that can be better directed to other things. This is you not being able to control your magic to redirect, dissipate or transform it. This is you not understanding how things work and why they work, so you cannot prepare for the consequences of your actions." She snapped her fingers and Wanda's clothing constricted, pinning her in place. "You may not enjoy it in the beginning, dear child, but when I'm done with you and your siblings, you will be a force to be reckoned with."
"They're not my siblings. Pietro is," Wanda retorted through grit teeth. Where was he, anyway?
Oh. Pinned to the wall with energies from one of Frigga's handmaidens, looking as though he wanted to rip her throat out with his teeth.
"We are all siblings in magic, Wanda," Frigga told her kindly. "It's a family. Responsibility. Hard sacrifices."
"The Baron said we were powerful. That we made other people do what we wanted."
"Are you powerful?" Frigga asked, a core of steel in her voice. She approached with a controlled walk, an air of calm about her. "Have you bested me? Bested my son? We're using baby magic, Wanda. A fraction of the control and power we could truly wield if pushed to the limits." Wanda gave her a mulish look, dark hair and dark eyes full of resentment. "The Baron had no genuine understanding of what he was doing, and he was full of lies. They have done more harm than good as far as your skills are concerned."
She pressed her lips unhappily as she contemplated Frigga, no doubt recalling the Baron's notes.
"I don't ask you to like me. Or be grateful. I do ask you to pay attention to your studies, to learn everything I set before you." Frigga turned and sliced the air with her left hand. "Guðvé, contact Loki and tell him that the children will remain on Asgard to be taught in my hall. It would be much easier to contain accidental spell damage that way. Those halls aren't protected well enough for the training."
"Yes, milady," Guðvé replied bowing.
Another slash of her hand, and the small portal connecting Asgard to Avengers Tower shut. Turning to smirk at Wanda's stunned silence, Frigga inclined her head slightly. "Still think you have nothing to learn from me?"
"Um... No, no I don't."
Frigga's smirk turned into a wide smile. "Good. Lessons begin now."
***
Steve was in the gym, attacking a punching bag as if his life depended on it. Tony had reinforced a number of them soon after he moved into the Tower, because ordinary bags never withstood the onslaught when Steve was truly in a mood. He seemed to be in one now, and Natasha thought that perhaps it was because James had yet to make a reappearance in the common areas.
"Where's Sif?" she asked from the doorway. She was in an ordinary Henley and jeans, admiring the play of his muscles.
What? She wasn't blind. He was a friend, but she could still appreciate the wonderful view.
"Off with Jane to do some shopping. I think they said Darcy's going to be graduating soon, and Jane wanted to get an appropriate present."
"And then she'll be working for Stark. How much do you want to bet that he'll eventually just give her a suite to stay in?"
Steve snorted and reached for a towel. "No bet. He might even make it part of her contract."
"What about Sam? Is he still holding out, or is he going to be moving in at some point?"
"His current lease is up in the fall. He'll move in then," Steve replied as he toweled off his face and neck of sweat.
Natasha nodded and then seemed uncertain for a moment. "We haven't restarted our poker night yet. It's been almost a month since I've been back. If you want, we could restart them. In my suite, if you prefer."
Her suite, where James spent all of his time. She even brought meals in to him.
He held her gaze and then blew out a breath. "Is he still sore at me?"
"I don't think he knows what to feel most of the time. There's a lot of Hydra and Department X programming still in there. He has some memories of the past, probably more than he thought that he'd have, but it might still be hard for you."
"Because I keep thinking of him as Bucky."
"Right."
"Bucky was different when I rescued him," Steve said quietly. "He wasn't the same fella I knew before the war. War changes people, I know that. And he's been stuck in that war same as I have, just in a different way."
"Steve..."
"I had time to think, Tasha," Steve interrupted. He reached out and touched her arm. "I know you haven't avoided me on purpose, but I've noticed how you've been gone a lot."
"I'm starting therapy," Natasha blurted. "I don't hate you. I just... Yelena knocked a lot of things loose in my head that I thought had been locked down tight."
The relief in Steve's expression was ludicrous, and he pulled her in for a tight, desperate embrace. "I thought I lost you as a friend, too. That you were just being nice because Sif was there, and you really didn't want to talk to me anymore. Bad enough I lost him so many times, but if I lost any of you now..."
Natasha returned his hug as tightly as he gave it before pulling back a little. "You're family, Steve. Stupid sometimes, but I know you didn't intend to do harm."
"But I still did, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you still did. He was frozen between missions, Steve. Locking him up in a small space, even if it has glass walls, is still going to hurt."
Steve pressed his lips together unhappily, but he nodded. "I didn't see it that way. He looked right at me, Tasha. Right at me, looking like he didn't know me. Like I was a stranger, like he was going to kill me. If he could do that to me, when he should know me... I couldn't let him do the same to you or Clint or Bruce or even Tony."
"Even Tony," Natasha echoed with a smirk.
He laughed, a little embarrassed. "The man and his ego. Reminds me of Howard. And Howard always seemed to come out of things okay."
"I'm not going to disagree with you on that one," Natasha replied, smirk still in place. "I think he's starting to remember. He has flashes of his past sometimes. I don't trigger that too much since he didn't know me then, though, so it's not always happening. I don't want you to expect more than what he can give."
"I really don't," Steve told her. He looked at her earnestly - did he really have another look? - and clasped her hands in his. "I want to know he's okay. I know now that he's not going to hurt everyone if he's loose, but that's probably you taking control."
"Not really."
Steve clearly didn't believe her, and opened his mouth to speak. Natasha cut him off. "The kills he made in the past were because of programming. He does what the mission parameters call for and what his personal safety requires. No more, no less. And if maintaining his personal safety would compromise the mission, he is to disregard his personal safety."
Steve looked horrified. "Bucky matters!"
"I know," Natasha told him in a quiet voice. "He's always mattered to me. But he was the Asset. Or the American. Or the Winter Soldier. He didn't have a name. He didn't have an identity. He wasn't meant to, Steve. That's why I don't want you getting your hopes up. He's James now, at least. There's more there than a blank slate, and maybe he'll get some of his life back. But he doesn't want anything, he can't even try to imagine a future since it was never something he was supposed to consider."
"You love him."
"Yes." More than she had loved Yelena, more than she cared about Loki. That sounded rather awful in her head, so she didn't say it aloud.
He gave her a sad smile. "At least he's got you."
Natasha grasped Steve's hand on impulse. "Come with me."
It wasn't too far to her suite, and Natasha brought Steve inside. James was sitting on the couch watching TV with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, dressed in nothing but a ratty T shirt and loose sweatpants. He was laughing as he reached for another handful of popcorn. "Natalia?" he began without even looking at the doorway. "This is so awful. I see why the thing's so popular now, I shouldn't have doubted-" His voice trailed off as he turned and saw Steve with Natasha just inside the entrance to the suite.
"Hey, Buck," Steve said with a somewhat wilted smile. Natasha thought he rather looked like a kicked puppy that expected to be kicked again. "Think we could talk?"
"For?" James prompted, suspicion in his tone.
"To get to know each other again."
Natasha relaxed and gave Steve a push closer. That was absolutely the right thing to say, and she probably shouldn't have doubted him. It was that earnestness he carried around himself, though. It was easy to mistake it for unreasonable stubbornness.
James took in Natasha's encouraging smile and sighed. "Suppose that's all right, then," he said, the old Brooklyn accent coloring his voice. "You ever watch this trash TV stuff?"
"Real Housewives?" Steve asked, taking a look at what he was watching. "Popular, but it makes me feel a little... slimy, somehow, while watching it. I can't help but remember how hard we all had it as kids, scrounging for something to eat, trying to afford my asthma cigarettes."
"I always had a spare for ya," James retorted. He stopped as soon as he realized what he said, and looked at Steve in surprise. "Huh. I guess I do remember you."
Steve flashed him a wide, brilliant grin. Natasha couldn't help but grin at her boys, and she plopped down on the armchair catty corner from the two of them on her couch.
"The other thing you had on," James replied casually, side eyeing Steve, "didn't look right. I remember that now. Colors were different. Stripes were off."
He laughed out loud in response to that. "Yeah. The original suit's considered vintage, and it's in the Smithsonian museum. I had to get a new one when I woke up."
"You woke up?" James asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"I'd crashed a plane into ice to keep a bomb from destroying New York. Turns out it didn't kill me, it only froze me."
"Well, that's just stupid on you, then," James huffed. "Freezing's no fun."
"I know. And I never did get a chance to dance with Peggy."
James frowned, remembering something. "The dame with the red dress. Only had eyes for you."
"Yeah." Steve had a soppy grin on his face, remembering Peggy. "She's older now, Alzheimer's. I visited her a few times before, and she doesn't always remember me. She lived a full life, though. Did good in the SSR and then founding SHIELD."
"So you're left alone now."
"Um..."
Seeing Steve's awkward expression, James started laughing out loud. "No kidding? Really?"
"Sif's swell. She's Asgardian, fights amazingly well. She's done front lines, calvary... She works a sword and shield like a master."
"Because she is a master," Natasha said, leaning forward and snagging the popcorn bowl from James' lap. "I've trained with her while I was on Asgard."
"Okay, that's a story, Natalia."
"Of course, James," she said sweetly, popping a few pieces into her mouth. "But you make nice with Steve, and maybe we can all spar together when she gets back."
He sat up at alert at that. "That would be so much better than watching all the garbage that passes for culture nowadays."
"We can visit Lincoln Center and Museum Mile later," Natasha promised.
"You'll love Cooper Union and all of downtown," Steve added.
James looked thoughtful, then glanced down at his clothes. "Not in these threads."
Natasha and Steve exchanged amused glances. "You do have other clothes," Natasha reminded him pointedly.
"If you don't like 'em, I've got a platinum credit card I never use," Steve added. "This is as good a reason to start using it as any I can think of."
"Don't go spending that on me," James said, shaking his head. "You don't gotta pay me back for everything I bought you growing up."
Steve frowned; apparently that hadn't been his thought process at all. "Naw, I figure you don't have any bank accounts or credit lines set up yet, since you don't officially exist. I doubt Hydra or Department X would've done that for you."
He shook his head. "They gave me whatever I required for a mission."
"There are suits with Kevlar woven into them," Natasha announced. "I'd love to see the two of you dressed up in full suits. And there's nothing wrong with what you have in the closet."
"Didn't see much point after a while if I'm sitting here doing nothing," he admitted, shrugging.
"Then let's not do nothing," Steve suggested. "I was in the gym when Tasha found me, and I was hitting a punching bag. Why not do that until Sif's back? I never could go actual rounds with you back in the day."
"Too busy getting your ass handed to you by every street punk in Brooklyn."
Steve grinned at James' mutter. "Yeah. Yeah, I did," he replied, sounding rather proud of himself. Natasha repressed the urge to ruffle his hair, even if he had the appearance of an overeager puppy. "They were bullies, though."
"They're always bullies," James said with a sigh and roll of his eyes. "The world is full of 'em. Hell, I suppose I even counted as one when not on ice."
The smile slipped from Steve's lips. "Not if you weren't in control."
James shrugged. "But that's not what people see, is it? They're going to see my face and this arm, and they're going to match it up to whispers. They're going to know what I was, they're going to think it's all I am."
"That's not what you are. Who you are," Steve insisted.
"Yeah? Well, who am I?" James challenged angrily.
Steve paused and looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't know, exactly. But isn't that the point? To figure out who you are now? To see what the war left behind? Those politicians blow smoke, they don't know what fighting really is. They don't know what we've gone through. I don't care what they're going to say. I care what you're going to say. Or do."
"Why?"
"Yeah, I think my friend's in there. I think you're a better man than you realize. Why else would they have to wipe you clean between missions?" James froze, his gaze shooting to Natasha. She remained very still, not even chewing the popcorn in her mouth.
Steve sighed and thwapped James on the shoulder. It was his flesh and bone one, not his metal one, and James shifted his fearful gaze back to Steve. "They had to erase you, all of you, because the real you would never kill innocents, never follow a bullshit order just because it was given. If any of you was left, you wouldn't have worked for them. You would've fought them, you would've won, and then there would be no Hydra or Department X cell left."
James started breathing rapidly as Steve spoke, and out of concern, Steve touched his arm. "I... I did. Fight them. I remember now. Seizing a scientist by the throat and throwing him across the room. Killing another one with this arm," he said, raising the metal arm.
Shivers wracked his body, and Natasha put aside the bowl of popcorn to sit at his side. She caught his metallic hand in both of her hands and raised it to her lips. "Жизнь моя," she whispered. My life.
He shivered and looked up at her with a dazed expression. "The procedure already started," he repeated dully.
Natasha dropped his hand into her lap and stroked his face. "It brought you to me."
"It took me away from everyone else."
"Yes, it did," she acknowledged softly. "But also let you live long enough to come back."
"They can't-" His voice choked off and his eyes closed. "Who's even left?"
"Becky had kids, if you want to meet 'em at some point. And there's me," Steve said gently. "I'm still here. I'll always be here."
"Because you're so goddamn stupid sometimes, Steve," James snapped.
Steve grinned, though, and bumped his shoulder. "Only when you weren't."
James glared at him. "This isn't funny."
"No, it's not. But we'll get through it. They got a name for shell shock now. So we'll take the okay moments and get through the not-okay moments."
"Why?" James asked, frowning. There was the faintest thread of self pity in his voice.
"'Cause you're my best friend. You're family. You were always there for me. Why wouldn't I be here now for you?" Steve asked. He threw an arm around James' shoulders and pulled him in tight for a hug. "I'm not going anywhere. You know Tasha isn't. You're stuck with us."
James gathered them both in for a tight hug, relief in every line of his body.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Arranging Playtime
Series: #18 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Steve/Sif
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Alludes to events in prior stories and outright references others. References for Red Room mindfuckery, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Everyone was see-sawing into some kind of equilibrium. Sometimes, it didn't even get traumatic.
Previous chapter:
One - Pride
Two - Connections
"Don't do this, Yelena," Natasha murmured. She was sitting on a metal folding chair, her hands bound in front of her, her ankles tied to the chair with hemp. She was practically naked, dressed only a lace-trimmed black slip. There weren't even panties. A bucket of cold water had been tossed at her, and she was shivering now, her nipples so taut and peaked they could have cut glass in the cold room.
Yelena dressed in an old fashioned white nightgown, tiny blue forget me nots printed on the fabric. The white eyelet lace trim at the hems made her seem so innocent, but Natasha could only see her back. Yelena's bright yellow hair was drawn back into twin braids on either side of her head, as if she was nothing more than a child's china doll. She was focused on whatever it was in front of her, and Natasha didn't know what it was. She didn't know why she was so afraid, why the chill continued to roll down her spine.
And then Yelena turned around. Her eyes were empty sockets, darkness pooling in them. Her lips were stretched back in a deathly grin, the kind seen on Greek statuary. Her throat was slit deeply, splashes of brilliant scarlet blood down the entire front of her nightgown.
In her hands were jumper cables. The other end was connected to a car battery, and she approached as if floating.
"You killed me," she said, her throat sounding full of grave dirt. "It's only fair I return the favor."
Natasha shot awake, nearly screaming.
James was instantly alert; he had been sitting in the chair in her bedroom instead of lying in the bed beside her. He had been there when she went to sleep. Had he gotten up so he could have better sight lines for all modes of entry into the room? It sounded like something that he might do, thinking his only job now was to protect her.
It wasn't as if she had anything else to offer him.
Swinging her feet around, she sat up in bed, back hunched a little. He instantly got up and moved to sit at her side, eyes curious but expression otherwise blank. Natasha looked at James, feeling almost a little lost. That sensation reminded her of Yelena, when she tried acting forceful and almost like Starkovsky. Was that part of the reason why it had been easier not to argue? But she was also tired and heartsick, any hope burned out of her.
Taking James' hand in hers, she traced the smooth plating on the back of it. "What do you want for your future, now that you'll have one?" Even SHIELD had no idea he was still alive, and she couldn't be opposed to that. They wouldn't kill him, but being locked away in the Cube or experimented on wasn't a better alternative.
"I don't know. I've followed orders so long, I don't know what else to do."
"Do you remember anything from before? When you were Bucky Barnes?"
He paused, eyes fixed on the metal hand clasped between them. "I don't like to. They made sure it would hurt me."
Leaning into him, she brought his hand to her mouth and gently kissed it. "What do you remember? Don't recall it now, just the general idea of it. We have to see if it's worth it."
"They're my memories. My sister Becky, my Ma and Dad, and I think Steve, but he doesn't look the same. Skinny and small, bloody from a fight."
"That's him, all right," she said with a wry smile.
He relaxed a little. "I wasn't sure. I think it would be worth it to remember. I'm not him, but he seems like a nice guy."
"I think you're more like him than you think. I think that's what made me take notice and love you," she said softly.
James tightened his grip on her hand. "Love is dangerous, Natalia."
"It can be. Or it can save us."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm starting to see a therapist. Iron clad confidentiality clauses, on Stark's payroll. Someone with no conflicts, no ulterior motives. If it works out with her, maybe you could, too."
"But why?" he asked, baffled.
"So I stop blaming myself for Yelena's madness. So I stop feeling like there's something wrong with me. So I figure out who I am again. I've broken myself apart for everyone else, and I don't even remember why anymore. I want to try to wipe out the red in my ledger, but what's the point? Why does it matter?"
"Because you save people," James said. "If you didn't, I wouldn't be here. Thousands or tens of thousands wouldn't be alive. I think if the Red Room never got their hands on you, that you would take care of others. I think that is who you are."
Natasha pressed her lips to his cheek. "So we both have better opinions of each other than ourselves, hm?"
James laughed, unamused. "Seems so."
She took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged gently. "Do you know if you were the kind to follow directions before? Or is that new?"
"I think..." he began uncertainly, "I think I was good at it, but ones I didn't like, I wouldn't follow. Now, I've followed directions I don't like."
"Such as?"
"Some kill on sight orders," he replied easily.
"Anything I've asked you to do?"
"No! Never!"
"And if Loki asked you to do anything..."
"In or out of the bedroom?"
"Either," Natasha admitted. "He's around a lot. He hasn't got anywhere else to go. If I go back to Asgard, you could probably come with me, but he couldn't."
James paused to consider her words. "If he's like a CO? Maybe. Like Hydra or Department X? No. I won't be their patsy again."
Natasha nodded. "Then maybe we can figure something out, the three of us."
"Because he still loves you. And I love you." James cupped her face in his hand. "I'd do anything for you, anything. And I get the feeling he might, too."
"I'd never abuse that trust."
"I know. And I think he does, too."
Natasha leaned in to kiss him, soft and tender, tongue sliding across the seam in his lips. He parted them immediately, letting her invade his mouth with her tongue. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. For always."
He grinned, arms loose around her. "I love you, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Even when I didn't know who I was or where I was, I always knew you were what I needed."
She kissed him again, slow and sweet. "And how do we add Loki to this? Or add you to what I had with him?"
"Carefully," James said quietly. "He'll run if you don't. He hangs the moon on your word, but he's got a sense of pride I don't. Department X made sure of that."
"I'm sorry," Natasha murmured.
"Wasn't your fault. Zola got me, is all. It was before you were born."
She threaded her hands through his hair and nipped at his lips. "You deserve so much more than what you've gotten, James."
"I got you now, don't I?" He brushed aside her tears. "None of that, Natalia. You and I, we don't get chances like this when the Red Room or Department X gets us. We've got this chance, and we're gonna take it, aren't we?"
He sounded so dependent on her, as if he had no will of his own. What have they done over the years that she hadn't been aware of? How much damage was there to fix?
Natasha tried to smile as she touched her forehead to his. "Of course we are."
***
Frigga arrived in the locked laboratory floor with three handmaidens skilled in seidr to a small degree. The human children had baby magic at best, and these handmaidens were at least far enough along in their training that they could handle baby magic. The best of the mortal children was the brunette Romani girl that was nicknaming herself Scarlet Witch for her red colored magic bursts. She was easily picked out amongst the children by the fact that she was the oldest and most alert of all of them in the lab. A faint red aura surrounded her hands, and her twin brother looked poised to take flight.
Raising her hand in a peaceful gesture, Frigga looked at all of the children. Food and clothing had been left, but there had been no actual supervision so far. So of course the entire place was a mess, children were unwashed, and there were stains of dubious quality on the floor and walls, some of which actually were in the shape of a little hand.
"Oh, no, this simply will not do," she declared, looking around. "No one can learn in such a filthy environment. I see Loki simply cannot see to others' needs that well."
"What do you want from us?" Wanda asked, eyes narrowing as she took in the exquisite fabric and jewels of Frigga's gown.
"To teach you how to properly use your magic, of course," she replied. She turned and gestured for her handmaidens. "There are facilities here for cleansing, though they are not like ours. If it's simply too much bother, we can transport them all to the palace and simply do the cleanup and the lessons there."
One of the young children, perhaps six or seven in age, stared at Frigga. "You live in a palace."
"Yes. I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard. I have come because I heard you have need of being taught the finer points of using your magical abilities." She smiled in a fond kind of way. "If there is one thing I do enjoy, it is teaching others about the seidr." She looked at Wanda with an appraising eye. "You could perhaps learn how to manipulate the spá. That seems to be an additional role your magic can take, difficult and very dangerous indeed."
"A spa is dangerous," she scoffed. The aura around her hands grew stronger, visible even to those unfamiliar with the seidr.
"No, child," Frigga corrected. "The spá. involves the weave and flow of fate. To change one's fate, to alter their destiny... That is work that could destroy entire worlds."
Wanda appeared uncomfortable, and the other children looked at her in awe. "I'm not a world destroyer. It doesn't matter what that freak said, I'm not a destroyer."
Frigga raised an eyebrow in silent challenge. "Perhaps you need to learn to take a longer view of things." She turned to her handmaidens and nodded sharply. "Make your assessments so we may figure out how best to educate the children."
There was chaos and confusion as children were grasped and marched toward the bathroom. Any attempts at scrubbing were met with frustrated yells and tantrums from the very young ones. Even Wanda and Pietro looked ready to revolt. Frigga sighed and opened a portal into her training chambers, not far from her own secondary suite in the palace. One of her handmaidens remained behind to cleanse the lab using magic, muttering all the while about leaving wild children to their own devices.
"The first lesson," Frigga declared with a gimlet eye toward all thirty-one of the Baron's "children," "is self-respect. If you respect yourself as a creature of agency and willpower, ready to take on consequences, you will be able to perform magic properly."
"I respect myself just fine, and I do magic just fine," Wanda said, throwing a red energy blast in Frigga's general direction as a warning.
Frigga simply made a circular motion with her hands, sending the blast right back in Wanda's direction. She ducked, hands flying up, and the arc of red energy flew into the ceiling. Stone chips, plaster and paint rained down over her head.
"This is not 'just fine,'" Frigga corrected archly. "This is spiteful energies that can be better directed to other things. This is you not being able to control your magic to redirect, dissipate or transform it. This is you not understanding how things work and why they work, so you cannot prepare for the consequences of your actions." She snapped her fingers and Wanda's clothing constricted, pinning her in place. "You may not enjoy it in the beginning, dear child, but when I'm done with you and your siblings, you will be a force to be reckoned with."
"They're not my siblings. Pietro is," Wanda retorted through grit teeth. Where was he, anyway?
Oh. Pinned to the wall with energies from one of Frigga's handmaidens, looking as though he wanted to rip her throat out with his teeth.
"We are all siblings in magic, Wanda," Frigga told her kindly. "It's a family. Responsibility. Hard sacrifices."
"The Baron said we were powerful. That we made other people do what we wanted."
"Are you powerful?" Frigga asked, a core of steel in her voice. She approached with a controlled walk, an air of calm about her. "Have you bested me? Bested my son? We're using baby magic, Wanda. A fraction of the control and power we could truly wield if pushed to the limits." Wanda gave her a mulish look, dark hair and dark eyes full of resentment. "The Baron had no genuine understanding of what he was doing, and he was full of lies. They have done more harm than good as far as your skills are concerned."
She pressed her lips unhappily as she contemplated Frigga, no doubt recalling the Baron's notes.
"I don't ask you to like me. Or be grateful. I do ask you to pay attention to your studies, to learn everything I set before you." Frigga turned and sliced the air with her left hand. "Guðvé, contact Loki and tell him that the children will remain on Asgard to be taught in my hall. It would be much easier to contain accidental spell damage that way. Those halls aren't protected well enough for the training."
"Yes, milady," Guðvé replied bowing.
Another slash of her hand, and the small portal connecting Asgard to Avengers Tower shut. Turning to smirk at Wanda's stunned silence, Frigga inclined her head slightly. "Still think you have nothing to learn from me?"
"Um... No, no I don't."
Frigga's smirk turned into a wide smile. "Good. Lessons begin now."
***
Steve was in the gym, attacking a punching bag as if his life depended on it. Tony had reinforced a number of them soon after he moved into the Tower, because ordinary bags never withstood the onslaught when Steve was truly in a mood. He seemed to be in one now, and Natasha thought that perhaps it was because James had yet to make a reappearance in the common areas.
"Where's Sif?" she asked from the doorway. She was in an ordinary Henley and jeans, admiring the play of his muscles.
What? She wasn't blind. He was a friend, but she could still appreciate the wonderful view.
"Off with Jane to do some shopping. I think they said Darcy's going to be graduating soon, and Jane wanted to get an appropriate present."
"And then she'll be working for Stark. How much do you want to bet that he'll eventually just give her a suite to stay in?"
Steve snorted and reached for a towel. "No bet. He might even make it part of her contract."
"What about Sam? Is he still holding out, or is he going to be moving in at some point?"
"His current lease is up in the fall. He'll move in then," Steve replied as he toweled off his face and neck of sweat.
Natasha nodded and then seemed uncertain for a moment. "We haven't restarted our poker night yet. It's been almost a month since I've been back. If you want, we could restart them. In my suite, if you prefer."
Her suite, where James spent all of his time. She even brought meals in to him.
He held her gaze and then blew out a breath. "Is he still sore at me?"
"I don't think he knows what to feel most of the time. There's a lot of Hydra and Department X programming still in there. He has some memories of the past, probably more than he thought that he'd have, but it might still be hard for you."
"Because I keep thinking of him as Bucky."
"Right."
"Bucky was different when I rescued him," Steve said quietly. "He wasn't the same fella I knew before the war. War changes people, I know that. And he's been stuck in that war same as I have, just in a different way."
"Steve..."
"I had time to think, Tasha," Steve interrupted. He reached out and touched her arm. "I know you haven't avoided me on purpose, but I've noticed how you've been gone a lot."
"I'm starting therapy," Natasha blurted. "I don't hate you. I just... Yelena knocked a lot of things loose in my head that I thought had been locked down tight."
The relief in Steve's expression was ludicrous, and he pulled her in for a tight, desperate embrace. "I thought I lost you as a friend, too. That you were just being nice because Sif was there, and you really didn't want to talk to me anymore. Bad enough I lost him so many times, but if I lost any of you now..."
Natasha returned his hug as tightly as he gave it before pulling back a little. "You're family, Steve. Stupid sometimes, but I know you didn't intend to do harm."
"But I still did, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you still did. He was frozen between missions, Steve. Locking him up in a small space, even if it has glass walls, is still going to hurt."
Steve pressed his lips together unhappily, but he nodded. "I didn't see it that way. He looked right at me, Tasha. Right at me, looking like he didn't know me. Like I was a stranger, like he was going to kill me. If he could do that to me, when he should know me... I couldn't let him do the same to you or Clint or Bruce or even Tony."
"Even Tony," Natasha echoed with a smirk.
He laughed, a little embarrassed. "The man and his ego. Reminds me of Howard. And Howard always seemed to come out of things okay."
"I'm not going to disagree with you on that one," Natasha replied, smirk still in place. "I think he's starting to remember. He has flashes of his past sometimes. I don't trigger that too much since he didn't know me then, though, so it's not always happening. I don't want you to expect more than what he can give."
"I really don't," Steve told her. He looked at her earnestly - did he really have another look? - and clasped her hands in his. "I want to know he's okay. I know now that he's not going to hurt everyone if he's loose, but that's probably you taking control."
"Not really."
Steve clearly didn't believe her, and opened his mouth to speak. Natasha cut him off. "The kills he made in the past were because of programming. He does what the mission parameters call for and what his personal safety requires. No more, no less. And if maintaining his personal safety would compromise the mission, he is to disregard his personal safety."
Steve looked horrified. "Bucky matters!"
"I know," Natasha told him in a quiet voice. "He's always mattered to me. But he was the Asset. Or the American. Or the Winter Soldier. He didn't have a name. He didn't have an identity. He wasn't meant to, Steve. That's why I don't want you getting your hopes up. He's James now, at least. There's more there than a blank slate, and maybe he'll get some of his life back. But he doesn't want anything, he can't even try to imagine a future since it was never something he was supposed to consider."
"You love him."
"Yes." More than she had loved Yelena, more than she cared about Loki. That sounded rather awful in her head, so she didn't say it aloud.
He gave her a sad smile. "At least he's got you."
Natasha grasped Steve's hand on impulse. "Come with me."
It wasn't too far to her suite, and Natasha brought Steve inside. James was sitting on the couch watching TV with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, dressed in nothing but a ratty T shirt and loose sweatpants. He was laughing as he reached for another handful of popcorn. "Natalia?" he began without even looking at the doorway. "This is so awful. I see why the thing's so popular now, I shouldn't have doubted-" His voice trailed off as he turned and saw Steve with Natasha just inside the entrance to the suite.
"Hey, Buck," Steve said with a somewhat wilted smile. Natasha thought he rather looked like a kicked puppy that expected to be kicked again. "Think we could talk?"
"For?" James prompted, suspicion in his tone.
"To get to know each other again."
Natasha relaxed and gave Steve a push closer. That was absolutely the right thing to say, and she probably shouldn't have doubted him. It was that earnestness he carried around himself, though. It was easy to mistake it for unreasonable stubbornness.
James took in Natasha's encouraging smile and sighed. "Suppose that's all right, then," he said, the old Brooklyn accent coloring his voice. "You ever watch this trash TV stuff?"
"Real Housewives?" Steve asked, taking a look at what he was watching. "Popular, but it makes me feel a little... slimy, somehow, while watching it. I can't help but remember how hard we all had it as kids, scrounging for something to eat, trying to afford my asthma cigarettes."
"I always had a spare for ya," James retorted. He stopped as soon as he realized what he said, and looked at Steve in surprise. "Huh. I guess I do remember you."
Steve flashed him a wide, brilliant grin. Natasha couldn't help but grin at her boys, and she plopped down on the armchair catty corner from the two of them on her couch.
"The other thing you had on," James replied casually, side eyeing Steve, "didn't look right. I remember that now. Colors were different. Stripes were off."
He laughed out loud in response to that. "Yeah. The original suit's considered vintage, and it's in the Smithsonian museum. I had to get a new one when I woke up."
"You woke up?" James asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"I'd crashed a plane into ice to keep a bomb from destroying New York. Turns out it didn't kill me, it only froze me."
"Well, that's just stupid on you, then," James huffed. "Freezing's no fun."
"I know. And I never did get a chance to dance with Peggy."
James frowned, remembering something. "The dame with the red dress. Only had eyes for you."
"Yeah." Steve had a soppy grin on his face, remembering Peggy. "She's older now, Alzheimer's. I visited her a few times before, and she doesn't always remember me. She lived a full life, though. Did good in the SSR and then founding SHIELD."
"So you're left alone now."
"Um..."
Seeing Steve's awkward expression, James started laughing out loud. "No kidding? Really?"
"Sif's swell. She's Asgardian, fights amazingly well. She's done front lines, calvary... She works a sword and shield like a master."
"Because she is a master," Natasha said, leaning forward and snagging the popcorn bowl from James' lap. "I've trained with her while I was on Asgard."
"Okay, that's a story, Natalia."
"Of course, James," she said sweetly, popping a few pieces into her mouth. "But you make nice with Steve, and maybe we can all spar together when she gets back."
He sat up at alert at that. "That would be so much better than watching all the garbage that passes for culture nowadays."
"We can visit Lincoln Center and Museum Mile later," Natasha promised.
"You'll love Cooper Union and all of downtown," Steve added.
James looked thoughtful, then glanced down at his clothes. "Not in these threads."
Natasha and Steve exchanged amused glances. "You do have other clothes," Natasha reminded him pointedly.
"If you don't like 'em, I've got a platinum credit card I never use," Steve added. "This is as good a reason to start using it as any I can think of."
"Don't go spending that on me," James said, shaking his head. "You don't gotta pay me back for everything I bought you growing up."
Steve frowned; apparently that hadn't been his thought process at all. "Naw, I figure you don't have any bank accounts or credit lines set up yet, since you don't officially exist. I doubt Hydra or Department X would've done that for you."
He shook his head. "They gave me whatever I required for a mission."
"There are suits with Kevlar woven into them," Natasha announced. "I'd love to see the two of you dressed up in full suits. And there's nothing wrong with what you have in the closet."
"Didn't see much point after a while if I'm sitting here doing nothing," he admitted, shrugging.
"Then let's not do nothing," Steve suggested. "I was in the gym when Tasha found me, and I was hitting a punching bag. Why not do that until Sif's back? I never could go actual rounds with you back in the day."
"Too busy getting your ass handed to you by every street punk in Brooklyn."
Steve grinned at James' mutter. "Yeah. Yeah, I did," he replied, sounding rather proud of himself. Natasha repressed the urge to ruffle his hair, even if he had the appearance of an overeager puppy. "They were bullies, though."
"They're always bullies," James said with a sigh and roll of his eyes. "The world is full of 'em. Hell, I suppose I even counted as one when not on ice."
The smile slipped from Steve's lips. "Not if you weren't in control."
James shrugged. "But that's not what people see, is it? They're going to see my face and this arm, and they're going to match it up to whispers. They're going to know what I was, they're going to think it's all I am."
"That's not what you are. Who you are," Steve insisted.
"Yeah? Well, who am I?" James challenged angrily.
Steve paused and looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't know, exactly. But isn't that the point? To figure out who you are now? To see what the war left behind? Those politicians blow smoke, they don't know what fighting really is. They don't know what we've gone through. I don't care what they're going to say. I care what you're going to say. Or do."
"Why?"
"Yeah, I think my friend's in there. I think you're a better man than you realize. Why else would they have to wipe you clean between missions?" James froze, his gaze shooting to Natasha. She remained very still, not even chewing the popcorn in her mouth.
Steve sighed and thwapped James on the shoulder. It was his flesh and bone one, not his metal one, and James shifted his fearful gaze back to Steve. "They had to erase you, all of you, because the real you would never kill innocents, never follow a bullshit order just because it was given. If any of you was left, you wouldn't have worked for them. You would've fought them, you would've won, and then there would be no Hydra or Department X cell left."
James started breathing rapidly as Steve spoke, and out of concern, Steve touched his arm. "I... I did. Fight them. I remember now. Seizing a scientist by the throat and throwing him across the room. Killing another one with this arm," he said, raising the metal arm.
Shivers wracked his body, and Natasha put aside the bowl of popcorn to sit at his side. She caught his metallic hand in both of her hands and raised it to her lips. "Жизнь моя," she whispered. My life.
He shivered and looked up at her with a dazed expression. "The procedure already started," he repeated dully.
Natasha dropped his hand into her lap and stroked his face. "It brought you to me."
"It took me away from everyone else."
"Yes, it did," she acknowledged softly. "But also let you live long enough to come back."
"They can't-" His voice choked off and his eyes closed. "Who's even left?"
"Becky had kids, if you want to meet 'em at some point. And there's me," Steve said gently. "I'm still here. I'll always be here."
"Because you're so goddamn stupid sometimes, Steve," James snapped.
Steve grinned, though, and bumped his shoulder. "Only when you weren't."
James glared at him. "This isn't funny."
"No, it's not. But we'll get through it. They got a name for shell shock now. So we'll take the okay moments and get through the not-okay moments."
"Why?" James asked, frowning. There was the faintest thread of self pity in his voice.
"'Cause you're my best friend. You're family. You were always there for me. Why wouldn't I be here now for you?" Steve asked. He threw an arm around James' shoulders and pulled him in tight for a hug. "I'm not going anywhere. You know Tasha isn't. You're stuck with us."
James gathered them both in for a tight hug, relief in every line of his body.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Arranging Playtime