Work Text:
"Clear the hallway!" Yinsen heard a fighter yell as they were heading back to their cell from emptying out the bucket that currently functioned as their toilet. Yinsen put a hand on Tony's chest to keep him from stepping into the main tunnel as he heard a pair of men coming down the hallway, dragging something heavy judging from the sound of it. He risked a glance around the corner and when he saw the look on the faces of the two fighters he considered pulling Tony back into their cell until the men passed, but then Tony was looking around the corner as well and it was too late. As the fighters passed them, their burden proved to be an unconscious man that was leaving a significant trail of blood in the dirt.
“Hey! Hey, stop!” Tony trotted down the tunnel after them, the chains on his ankles keeping his strides short. “Yinsen, tell them to knock it off!”
With a pained look Yinsen followed his charge down, trying to think of a way to phrase Tony’s request so that these men would actually listen. “My friends,” he said ingratiatingly in the Arabic/Pashto pidgin that passed for a lingua franca in this part of Afghanistan. “Mr. Stark sees that you are having difficulty with this man- “ he gestured, leaning over Stark’s shoulder to get a look at the captive, a white man with long dark hair and an unshaven face, features distorted by blood and bruises. Curiously, one arm was made of what appeared to be articulated metal plates, a red star on the shoulder, and the rest of him was wrapped in an intimidating amount of black canvas and leather. Yinsen had been held by the Ten Rings for long enough that he could recognize a half-dozen empty holsters and knife sheaths. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a hapless civilian that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “And he wishes to help,” Yinsen finished dubiously, then switched to English. “Tony, I don’t know that this is a good idea…”
Yinsen listened with half an ear as the two fighters argued between themselves, debating the wisdom of throwing this particular captive in with Tony and Yinsen. Yinsen was not encouraged by the way they kept referring to the captive as a ‘mad dog.’ But Tony was already using the edge of his very dirty shirt to try to clean the blood off the man’s face, prying open eyelids to see if his pupils were responding. “Tony, one of us here is actually a doctor,” Yinsen pointed out. “They’ll probably let me see him, but right now they are debating whether or not they are going to put him down like a rabid animal.”
“What? Why?” Tony studied the man as if he could assess mental illness just by looking at him. Yinsen could see his eyes lingering on the metal arm, curiosity making his fingers twitch.
“Apparently this man was responsible for killing a dozen of their men before they got lucky and he triggered the IED they were emplacing. They brought him back here to explain to Raza why their mission failed.”
The men seemed to have made a decision and they continued down the hallway with the man. “First Raza. He will decide what to do,” one of them called over his shoulder. Yinsen had to hook a finger into Tony’s collar to keep him from following them.
“Be patient, Tony. Let’s finish this errand then go get those parts you needed, yes?”
***
Later that night, a pair of guards came in and pulled Yinsen away from where he was helping Tony by holding a light as Tony carefully disassembled a rocket. Tony felt his stomach drop, afraid that they were questioning his progress again, but Yinsen calmed him with a pat on his shoulder. “They want me to talk to the captive we saw earlier. Do not worry.”
“Yeah, right,” Tony muttered as he watched his friend being marched out the door between the fighters. He turned back to the missile. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to ‘not worry’ again.”
When Yinsen came back about an hour later, pushed roughly through the iron door before they slammed it shut, the look on his face was indescribable.
Tony put the magnifying glass and tweezers down, setting the motherboard that he was disassembling to the side. “What is it?”
“That man they have is…” Yinsen sat down, scratching the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully. “Troubled. At first all he could speak was Russian, which was making the men here understandably nervous, but then I got him to answer me in English. He says he doesn’t remember anything. He insisted this so much that I finally had to make up answers for Raza or they were going to hurt him more.”
“Think it was head trauma?” Tony sat down too and pushed a bowl of rice and mostly burnt meat over to Yinsen. They had delivered dinner while he was gone.
“That’s the other odd thing. By the time I saw him, most of the wounds he had were already healed.” Yinsen scrubbed his hands on his pants the best he could before he started eating; water was not a luxury they were afforded very often, so being clean took second place to being hydrated. “Other than the lack of memory, he didn’t have any signs of a concussion.”
“Huh.” Tony thought as he chewed. “Super healing, huh? What about that metal arm?”
“From what I could see, it works just like his other arm but is much, much stronger. While I was talking to him, he got agitated and bent the metal frame of his cot by squeezing it too hard.”
Tony tried not to get excited. A man like that could help get them out of here. “That is odd,” he said neutrally, but a glance and a raised eyebrow from Yinsen told him that they were both thinking the same thing.
“Raza wants you to build more of them.” Tony’s head shot up at that. Yinsen shrugged. “As you can imagine, they have a lot of men that can’t fight because they’ve lost limbs. If you can build ones like his…” Tony blanched at the thought, and his stomach turned.
“Well obviously I would need to look at it, but…” He set his food down, appetite lost. “I don’t think I can. That might actually be beyond my capabilities.” He tried to think of what he knew of prosthetics and cybernetics.
Yinsen shrugged again, philosophically this time. “Well, you aren’t building them a Jericho missile, so what does it matter if you also don’t build them high tech prosthetics?”
“True.” Tony scratched the scars around his arc reactor, the skin there still healing and incredibly itchy. “When are they bringing him here?” Just then, Tony registered the sound of men walking down the hallway, the footsteps of one of them heavier than the rest.
“Right now,” Yinsen said unnecessarily as the door to their cell opened.
They both stood as Raza entered, flanked by his personal guards. Behind him, the man from the hallway stood in the center of four guards, weighed down by chains. He was looking down at the floor, his long dark hair a curtain around his face.
Raza spoke at length to Yinsen, and all Tony got out of the conversation was Yinsen saying “yes” a lot. Finally Raza gave Tony a wide grin and a friendly clap on the shoulder, and then he was sweeping out the door.
“That man really thinks I’m his bitch, doesn’t he?” Tony mused as Raza left. The men guarding the captive shoved him towards Tony and all but ran out the door.
“Pretty much, yes.” Yinsen gestured for Tony to stay back as he started to approach the man, who was just standing in the center of the cell. “Hello, sir? Do you remember me?”
At Yinsen’s voice the man finally raised his head. “Yes,” he said, his voice like gravel. His eyes, light blue, almost gray, flickered to Tony and stayed on him even as Yinsen approached.
“Good. You are here so that my friend Tony here can take a look at your arm.”
At that the man looked alarmed and suspicious and took a step back, chains rattling. “The arm is…fully operational,” he said unconvincingly, and if to demonstrate Tony saw his shoulders flex and then there was the sharp snap of the chains. He brought his arms around to the front and Tony saw that the iron cuffs were still on his wrists but the chain between them was broken. Then the metal arm twitched and the plates on it made a high pitched whine as they recalibrated and shifted position, and when the man looked away Tony knew that he had lied.
“I can see that,” Yinsen said, eyebrows high but voice calm. “But the men who brought you here have ordered Tony to examine your arm and if he doesn’t, they will hurt him.”
The man hesitated then nodded. Yinsen led him to sit down by their work table while Tony cleared a space for him to rest his arm, picking out a few tools from his tiny selection that he thought he might be able to use. He pulled over a stool and moved a few lights to illuminate his work space before he sat down. “I’m just going to take a look at everything first, ok?” Tony said to the man. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“I don’t know.” The man’s arm twitched again, fingers tightening into a fist before they relaxed. Looking up, Tony saw that this time it wasn’t a malfunction; the man’s jaw was tight and his eyes were far away, brow furrowed like he was trying to concentrate.
“Ok, don’t worry about it. Can I call you Mr. Roboto?”
Those cool grey eyes focused on him again and this time he was scowling. “No.”
Tony hid a grin as he ran his fingers over the metal plates in the arm, trying to find any seams that would indicate an access panel. “R2D2?”
“No.”
“Robocop?” He found something halfway down the inside part of his upper arm and pressed it gently. He felt more than heard a click and then the entire plate around what would be a bicep came off, revealing complex circuitry and cables.
“No.” Tony barely heard him as he studied the inside of the man’s arm, using a flashlight to get a peek under the other plates. Right now, the only damage Tony could see was the thin layer of dust on everything, which may have gotten into some of the connections and shorted them out. He rested his chin on his hand as he tried to figure out what he was looking at.
“Marvin?” He said belatedly when he realized the man was staring at him and started looking for more access plates. He wished so hard for his full lab at his tower so he could get scans of this thing; it was miles beyond what anyone was doing right now, especially since it appeared to be fully integrated into the man’s nervous system.
“No.” But a small smile was starting to curve the man’s lips, and the difference was like sun after a rainstorm. Tony hesitated, taking his first good look at the man’s face and realized under the dirt and blood and scruff – the Ten Rings aesthetic, as he was starting to think of it – he was a goddamned good looking guy. Those clear grey eyes, strong jaw, full lips. Shoulders a mile wide. Tony must have been staring a moment too long because the man tilted his head slightly and the considering look in his eyes changed to something different.
Tony looked back down at the arm and cleared his throat. “How about Bender?” Another access panel opened up on his forearm and there Tony could see his first clear indication of damage. Something had managed to slide up under the plate and partially sever some of the wires and cables. “Can you move your fingers for me, one at a time?” Tony watched carefully as he did so, and saw it – sparks flew and the hand twitched when he moved his pinky and ring finger.
“Not Bender,” the man finally answered gruffly.
“Terminator?” Tony looked at his work table and considered the tools he had at his disposal to repair something like this. Finally he picked up his soldering iron; the tips that he had for it were a bit large for this project so he was going to need a very light touch. He pulled off his gloves and pushed up the sleeves of his coat.
“That’s fine.”
That surprised a laugh out of Tony. “Are you sure you would prefer something like Bob or Tim or James instead? John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt? Not that Terminator doesn’t fit, from what I’ve heard.” He looked up to see the man frowning again and immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“James,” the man repeated. He sat up straighter and said it again. “James.
“James Q Terminator it is then. Stay still, James, and let me see if I can get this fixed up for you, ok?”
The as- James watched as Tony carefully repaired the damage to the arm, narrating what he was doing as he did it. Behind him he could tell that the man Yinsen was writing something on the other side of the room; he could hear the sound of pencil against paper and the occasional sound of him sharpening it with a knife. Outside the metal door two guards shuffled their feet, bored and tired of standing. The room, merely a large cave strung with lights, smelled of oil and metal and two men that did not have the resources to bathe often.
He studied the head bent over his arm as the smell of hot metal and a thin streak of smoke emerged from where he was working. Long, slightly wavy brown hair fell over his forehead and whenever he straightened James could see the overgrown beard on cheeks that were just starting to get gaunt and pale from prolonged captivity. Bruising on his zygomatic arch was a purple smudge at the corner of his eye but he still smiled, lips quirking whenever he said something he found funny. James didn’t understand the humor but he found himself liking the smile and wondering how to make it reappear. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone smile with humor and not cruelty.
Finally Tony sat up and brushed the hair off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Well, James, I’m done with the repairs but I’d like to keep looking at your arm if that’s ok.”
James considered the alternatives and found that he had a strong preference to stay where he was. There may be more damage, he thought. A fully functioning arm is imperative for mission success. “Yes,” he said finally, and for some reason that earned him a wide grin that even managed to chase the shadows from Tony’s eyes.
“Great! Are you comfortable? Need some water or food? I don’t know if I’ll be able to get you either of those things, but I can try. It only hurts a little bit to ask.” James found himself scowling at the thought of someone hurting Tony and consciously relaxed his face when Tony’s smile started to fade.
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly. Tony bent his head and James could feel the gentle pressure from his fingers as they danced over the metal of his arm, seeking more access points. It felt…good. Nice. James could have directed him to the rest of the panels, if asked, he did not speak unless spoken to.
Tony worked for a few more minutes, this time in silence, as he tried his best to get the grit out from the interior of the arm. Occasionally he would mutter about power sources or cooling, but for the most part he just studied what he could see, forehead furrowed in concentration. James thought about smoothing that line away and earning a smile, but didn’t move.
Eventually Tony sat back and chewed on his thumb thoughtfully. “I don’t want to disassemble it further in this kind of environment. This should really be done in a cleanroom, but…” Tony sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He put the access plates back on and James flexed the hand, gratified when it functioned without glitches. When he was done Tony leaned back, arm resting on the work table while he studied James thoughtfully. James stared back, wondering what Tony was looking for.
Tony must have come to some sort of decision because he scooted his chair closer to James and as he leaned over James caught a curious whiff of ozone from something under Tony’s clothes. “Look, James. Clearly I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But I think we are in an enemy of my enemy situation, don’t you? Maybe we should work together.”
James just tilted his head, curious where Tony was going with this.
“I have a plan to get out of here. I think maybe you aren’t meant to be here either, right? Is there someone looking for you?”
At that, James froze. He felt cold, then hot, and his ears were ringing. He kept very, very still but inside his heart was pounding. Someone looking for you. Someone looking for you. The ringing in his ears subsided just enough to hear Tony saying “James? James? Hey, James, are you ok?”
“I-I-“ He imagined a recovery team storming the cave system, Tony with the nice smile and Yinsen with the kind eyes bleeding out on the floor. Someone looking for you. Then there would be correction, re-education about the consequences of trying to leave Hydra, and the chair. The cold.
But.
If he got out now, tried to find his handlers, maybe Tony and Yinsen wouldn’t die. There would be less correction, less re-education. Still the chair, though. Still the cold. Always the chair and the cold.
“I have to go.” James stood so suddenly that Tony almost fell over backwards. “There is someone looking for me.”
“Whoa, wait, wait!” Tony jumped in front of him as he strode towards the metal door. On the other side Tony heard some muttered Arabic, likely curious about the sudden hubbub inside the cell. Yinsen set his notebook down and stood, concerned. “You can’t go out there, they’ll kill you! There’s like, fifty guys out there, armed to the teeth.”
James paused and tilted his head, considering. He was right, there was a risk. More than a dozen men and the risk that someone would get lucky starts to rise to an appreciable percentage.
His eyes refocused on Tony, who looked scared. Scared for him. Tony had one hand on his chest, trying to stop him from leaving. It was warm. He looked down at the hand and wanted to feel that warmth on his face, on his bare skin. He had been so cold for so long.
“I have to go,” he repeated, and lifted Tony and set him out of the way. “There is someone looking for me, and I can’t be here when they find me.” He found himself smiling a little at the look on Tony’s face when he was set to the side. Tony glanced at Yinsen helplessly but the other man only shrugged.
“We can’t physically stop him,” the doctor said. “I can’t say that I’m happy that he is ready to throw his life away after I just finished patching him up, but…”
“Can you wait? I just need like, a few more days, a week at most and I could help,” Tony said in a low voice, with a glance over his shoulder at the guards who were watching them suspiciously through a grated window in the door.
James started shaking his head before Tony finished talking. “They will be here in hours, no more than a day.”
“Well what do you think is going to happen to us, huh? If you go out there and fail, they’re probably going to take it out on us,” Tony tried. James glanced at Yinsen to see if that were true and the man made a maybe, maybe not gesture with his hand.
He turned back to Tony. “Then I won’t fail.”
“You don’t even have a weapon!”
James put his hands on Tony’s shoulders and half steered, half pushed him to a corner of the cave where he would be least likely to be hit by a stray bullet. He let his eyes trail over Tony’s face, trying to commit it to memory to hold on to when he was in the chair, keep it next to the barely remembered blonde man with the stubborn set to his jaw. He wanted to touch Tony’s face to feel the roughness of his beard; he had the urge to press his lips against the angry line of Tony’s mouth. He could hear Tony’s heart start beating faster under his gaze and he smiled faintly and let his arms fall away. “Stay here.”
He strode to the door and said something insulting in Pashto about the guard’s brother and an amorous goat. As planned, the guard stepped up to the grating and started shouting furiously. James punched right through the metal grating and the guard dropped to the ground, his face crushed. His partner started shouting as James ripped the metal door open, the bolt holding it shut sheared in half. James grabbed the rifle that the guard pointed at him and bent the barrel towards the ceiling right as the man pulled the trigger. The resulting misfire split the barrel in half and then the guard was on the floor as well, neck broken. James stooped and searched their bodies with practiced efficiency. The sound of the rifle shot would bring more running, and soon.
James took the undamaged rifle and every bullet he could find, along with two knives of questionable sharpness. One of the guards had a small nine millimeter in a holster on his thigh; James checked it and found it fully loaded. He returned to the room and handed it to Tony.
“Here. For if they come for you.”
Tony just stared at him, dumbfounded, so he turned to leave, not wanting to get into a firefight in this room. “Take care of yourself, Terminator,” he heard Tony say as he raised the rifle and started to stalk down the corridor, taking out the lights as he went.
***
Tony and Yinsen both escaped later that night, creeping out after hours of silence. There was no sign of James, only a trail of bodies; any survivors had long ago fled. But there was still vehicles remaining, so before anyone could return to the decimated camp they filled up a Jeep and poured the rest of the gasoline they found onto the stockpiles of Stark missiles. The glow of the fire was in their rearview mirror for a long time as they drove into the desert, north and west towards American-controlled territory.
For whatever reason, neither of them mentioned James when they talked about their time with the Ten Rings. Tony’s first few Iron Man designs were rubbish, but when he was finally able to return to Afghanistan every question about a man with a metal arm was met with confused refusal.
Four years later, Steve said, “He was strong. Fast. Had a metal arm,” and Tony sat up straighter. In the fight on the helicarriers, despite his best efforts Tony was separated from Steve. He landed on the bank of the Potomac just as the Winter Soldier was dragging an unconscious Steve from the water and stepped out of his suit.
“Hey there, James Q Terminator. Looks like you might need me to look at that arm again.”
"I..." The Soldier looked down at his arm and then back up at the brown-haired man smiling patiently at him. And he remembered. Gentle hands, unexpected kindness. A bright spot of warmth memorable because of the darkness before and after. Strangely, he remembered Robocop and Marvinbut mostly he remembered that it felt good to be a James instead of a Soldier.
"Are you going to stick around this time? There might still be people looking for you, but I'm not a smelly bum being held captive in a cave anymore." Tony gestured at the destruction still visible a little ways up river. "This time, I can protect you."
James hesitated and looked down at the man at his feet, and Steve, wounded but breathing. "Steve..."
"Yeah, I need to get him some medical attention but after the past week I think he'd rather bleed a bit longer than lose you again, so. I repeat. If I take him to the hospital, will you be here when I come back?" Tony, apparently without an ounce of self-preservation considering how many people James has killed in the past few days, reached up and brushed the Soldier's wet hair back away from his face. "There you are, James. So which is it? Stick around and fight for a chance at happiness, or run away back to being miserable and alone?"
"I'll stay," James said finally.
"Right here?" Tony said, pointing to the mud at their feet.
"Right there." James pointed to a fallen log a few feet away. He could sit and watch the water for a while. It sounded like a peaceful way to spend some time until Tony returned.
"Good. That's...that's settled then." Tony stepped back into the suit but left the helmet open so James could still see his face. "So what should I call you? A name like James Buchanan Barnes is rife with possibilities. James. Jimmy. JB."
"Anything is better than Bucky," James said gruffly. The smile Tony gave him at that was blinding, and he couldn't help but try to smile back.
"I agree. I'll be back soon, James."