Still Alive

by art_by_aray, Menatiera, Neutralchaos, yeppers

Summary:

The Winter Soldier escaped from Hydra, and on the run, It needs a Mechanic to maintain the very efficient weapon attached to its body. It decides the best person for the work is the world's best weapon expert: Tony Stark.
Abducting him goes unexpectedly well. Then, complications come.

Notes:

Sooo this is set at the very beginning of the MCU and it goes sideways immediately. But in a good way, I promise.

My two artist for this amazing ride - to whom I owe huge thanks for being really patient with me - are the amazing Neutralchaos (neutralchaos on tumblr) and araydre (araydre on tumbr). You were and are wonderful.

Sapphirae_escapist (known as cpt-winniethepooh on tumblr) is just the best friend and beta I could wish for. Sorry for the last minute work for you. You do amazing things for me and my writing. Every correct sentence in my writing is her merit while every mistake is mine. You are an endless source of encouragement and inspiration, darling!

Chapter 1: Winter Soldier

Notes:

The cover art is Neutralchaos's work. Isn't it amazing?!

Still Alive

Chapter 1 - Winter Soldier

The Winter Soldier had planned its escape for a very long time. It was the handlers’ mistake, really – they shouldn’t let the Asset out of cryostasis for this long anywhere, let alone in America. The Soldier didn’t know when It started to make its plans, or why It started to make its plans, or how It knew that it was a forbidden act, but It didn’t care.

Deep down in its bones, in its muscles, in its nerves the Asset knew something was off and It knew It had to get away.

So the Asset made the plans. It was a master tactician, after all. The escape needed a valid starting point – the base will be one of its missions, probably –, and it had to happen soon, before they remembered to wipe him. No matter that  the Soldier hadn’t given them a reason for it (did every mission without a flinch or hesitation), the wiping always came after a mission sooner or later, and the Asset wouldn’t push its luck by waiting too long. After It left, for the run, It would need various resources. First of all, money, and maybe papers of identification. The Soldier managed to hide these already, in various public places – bus stations and parks and abandoned warehouses in several states. But that wouldn’t be enough. The Asset would have to be in peak condition for a long time, it would have to be able to deal with any and every kind of threat. That would be easy with its abilities, but using those skills sometimes meant the Asset got damaged. The body healed itself, but the arm – one of its most effective weapons – did not. So the Winter Soldier would need a mechanic to look after the arm.

The Asset considered every option and selected the right one for the task. The man named Anthony Edward Stark.

***

There was a bit of strange allurement to take the F subway to Brooklyn – though there was nothing interesting in Brooklyn, especially not for this mission, and especially nothing available via public transportation  –, but then again the Soldier was used to stranger things than that. He ignored the urge and made its way to Manhattan instead.

That was three days ago. Now here he is, lying on a comfortable rooftop, watching the Mark through the telescope of a rifle, not to shoot him, but to study him. It needs every info and every intel before taking action. It needs to be sure the Mark has no ties with the former handlers, nor will he be able to contact them after his abduction. The Asset was rather proud that It had never made a mistake since the day It was made, and It doesn’t intend to start now, when the mission is so crucial.

The Soldier knows that the handlers have discovered It is missing by now. Even with the two-day time window that It always had for returning after missions, It should be back at the base reporting by now. So the Asset doesn’t have much time, but making a rush move is not something It can afford. Two days, It decides. The Soldier will acquire the Mark within 48 hours.

***

But before the Asset could make its moves, everything well-planned and every piece fits their place in a grandiose, yet quickly fluid action, other things happen and It has to improvise. Because someone else wants to get the Asset’s Mark for himself, and It can never let that happen. If the Winter Soldier has its mission, It never fails.

The dark figures appearing around Stark are not Hydra; the Asset can tell by the way they hold their weapons. Each training has its mannerisms, and Hydra trainings’ outcome looks completely different than this. These men are rougher, more spontaneous than the STRIKE team the Asset used to work with.

The Asset storms them easily. Grabs the first by the shoulders and smashes him to the ground so hard the floor cracks, then cuts through the throat of the second and stabs the third into the heart, no kevlar strong enough to fend off a thrust with the metal arm. Three moves within 5 seconds, lightning fast, and the leftovers discovers only then that someone is threatening them. The Soldier takes out two more before one of them is fast enough to target It. That’s the moment the Asset starts to use range weapons as well, and the shots echo loudly in the room.

But the Soldier’s not the only one to shoot, and though the metal arm whips and blocks a few projectiles, It quickly winces as two bullets tear through its vest. No critical hit, minor injuries, calculated recovery time: five days total, its mind analyzes the feeling immediately. The tac- gear should provide protection, but in this short distance with the special ammo the attackers clearly have, it’s not good enough. Naturally the Soldier does not dissociate just because someone was able to hit its body. It blocks the pain out of its mind and goes through the motions like nothing happened. It experienced so much worse than this, it’s not even a challenge to do so.

The Mark tries to run away. (Or maybe to fight, since he’s tumbling toward a dropped weapon, but it doesn’t really matter.) The Asset has to drag him before It could eliminate every threat. It is used to covering its tracks, and the urge to simply kill the Mark is strong, but It manages to resist even in the heat of the clash with the mercenaries. Stark is needed alive. Even if it means the Asset has to spare the lives of some attackers. It grabs the man, tucks him under the metal arm, and hurries to the nearest door, shooting at everyone who tries to stop them. He registers the fact that two of the enemy agents were able to leave the scene alive, and makes a mental note to eliminate them later.

The Mark is flailing and tries to escape the grip, which only tightens around him with every pathetic attempt, until he can barely breathe. The Asset loosens a bit, no need to crack ribs yet – it may be useful when It needs to persuade him of obedience.

“Put me down!” the Mark shouts as soon as able to do so. They barely left the building.

“I just saved your life,” It points it out, matter of factly. No emotions in the voice, just the calm observation.

“Yeah, sure, dude.” Even the machine that It is can hear the sarcasm in his voice, but the Soldier is not bothered by it. His beliefs are irrelevant. The only thing needed from him is his work as a mechanic. “Just let me walk on my own.”

“No.”

“So, what will it be?” he asks, curiously. “You keep carrying me till the end of the days? Come on, man, work with me here. Put me down.”

The Asset thinks through the options, and nods. The next minute Stark is on his feet, but the metal arm holds his shoulder steadily. No way to escape, but he can walk on his own.

“See, way better already!” His voice is too loud, too cheerful for the Asset, but It doesn’t order him to be quiet. Watched him enough these days to know that would be nearly impossible for him. And, frankly, his voice is kind of… nice? No, that’s not a good observation.

Nice is not relevant for a mission.

***

They gets into the car the Soldier prepared, change to another vehicle two times and even after that they walk half of an abandoned block. The Mark starts talking again as soon as they get into the first car.

“Okay, let’s see. Deadly stares, not talkative at all, murderous strut, impressive confidence – not for nothing, to be honest, ‘cause you just managed to kill how many, nine people without breaking a sweat, which is both amazing and terrifying – and quick enough to kidnap me from one of my own company buildings. I’m impressed, really. But I still have no fucking idea who you are or what do you want.” The rambling has nervous undertones, the Asset notices, because that’s something It has to recognize anywhere. If the task would be any kind of interrogation, the recognition of emotional reactions would be crucial for the success, so It knows the expressions of feelings. It just doesn’t actually feel them.

Most of the time, at least.

Now, It has to admit, is a different case. But then again, It has been out of the cryofreeze tank for so long that It has started to malfunction, that’s why It is here at the first place. Out of Hydra headquarters and all by itself, without a proper mission, except the basic survival causes.

Actually, why did he leave? It can’t answer the question, not even now when it occurred to It, not even sure if it is a question or not. The Asset is so used to the fact that he should not question anything, It barely feels the need to have the answers. It just obeyed the instinct to run, to flee. It doesn’t need to know anything else. It obeys. That’s what a soldier does.

The silence is probably intimidating, until the Soldier speaks. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m going to take care of you.” The voice is harsh, as always, since he is not used to much talking.

Wait a minute… he? Why did It think of Itself as a ‘he’? It is the Asset. It is a weapon.

It has to stop this malfunction.

“Oh, sweet. Except I didn’t ask for it and frankly, I don’t think I need anyone to take care of me. Never needed, actually. And, you know, I’m a grown-up, and a genius billionaire and stuff like this.” The Soldier barely listens to his ramblings, lost in its thoughts, only catches up when the man mentions the billionaire part. He probably thinks his money is what is needed here, but that’s an incorrect assumption. The Soldier has enough cash to manage what is needed on any mission and to avoid the attention of the former handlers. The Mechanic will be informed about his duty soon enough.

***

As the Mark goes on and tries to force some answers out of the Asset, they arrive to the first resting point. It is a safe house – a cheap apartment in the suburban area, no living neighbours within a hundred feet, and easily defendable if needed – and it’s relatively clean. There is even some furniture and a fridge full of edible food. Also, there is a workplace for the future mechanic. Their stay at this place won’t be permanent, but long enough for the Mark to prove his usefulness.

The Asset shuts and secures the door, then lets go of the man. Stark immediately starts exploring the kitchen, where they are currently, and then he looks back. “Wait a minute. You said you saved my life.”

A nod is enough as an answer.

“What makes you think they wanted to kill me?”

“They didn’t wear anything to hide their faces,” the Soldier shrugs as he speaks, and then he is stopped for a moment by it. This gesture is not something It uses, except if disguise is needed for some infiltration missions. Not the cause this time – so why did It do it? At the back of its mind the Asset still wonders about this as It continues speaking. “An abductor would mask his face so the hostage can’t describe their appearance once released. They were confident enough to think they don’t need to hide, ‘cause there won’t be any survivors.” Anyone entering the room would be collateral damage. The Asset knows this the best: It used to eliminate these kind of threats several times during its wake periods. (They secured the area, and the Soldier used this fact to its own advantage, but they made a sloppy work, not nearly careful enough to their abilities. They were bad, but not that bad. They counted on not being disturbed.)

“That’s why you wear a mask?”

It touches the fabric that covers its face. Didn’t even think  about it before – wearing the full stealth gear, tact vest, weapons and the mask is in his programming. As long as there are no other orders, it’s just natural. It nods again, but now It is aware of the cover, and the face starts to itch a bit. There is the strange, irrational and irresponsible urge again, similar to the one with the subway route - like It wants to peel the mask and let the skin be touched by the plain air.

Unrealistic desire.

“If they wanted to kill me, why not do it right there? Just a gunshot or something does the trick easily.”

This constant babbling will be irritating soon, but right now the Soldier is confused enough to simply answer every stupid question.

“There are many potential reasons someone doesn’t kill a target as soon as possible. In this special case, considering your position, either they needed information from you, or needed to torture you for demonstrational cause. The end result is the same. If someone is intending to kill a target, and they are dragging said target somewhere else to do the job, a great amount of pain and order of long suffering are predictable.” No sounds of emotion in the words, just blatant observations. Yet the speaking is kind of… pleasing? The Asset doesn’t really know why It finds the act of managing a conversation comforting, and yet it does.

***

So, naturally, they go to the hastily-constructed workshop without any more words (a weapon doesn’t need comfort), where the Asset pulls a gun and points it to the abdomen of the Mechanic. The man doesn’t look thrilled, but neither terrified, he just spares a menacing glance to the other and then goes again fussing with the equipment, babbling about it. “Really? What is this, a playground for five year olds? Look at this, I’m gonna cry now. This stuff is ancient, even my father had better. Where these are from, the 40’s?” He goes like that for a while, until the Soldier eventually gets bored by it.

“This is the best you get at the moment,” It cuts the babbling. “You’ll have one mission.”

Stark makes a face. “Only one? Pathetic. I work better under pressure, you know.”

The Asset lifts the gun a bit. “Is it not pressure enough? I could shoot you and leave you dead if you don’t live up to the expectations.”

“No offense, but you need me. You saved me for some reason, so you can’t just shoot me now.”

“You are the best option, but not the only one.”

“Well, then I hope you’re the kind of guy who needs the best and doesn’t settle for the second,” he shrugs. The Asset force back a choke because he is right and It finds unusual that the Mechanic seemingly has the same tactical mindset as It has.

“Are you not curious about the mission?” the Soldier can’t withstand the urge to raise an eyebrow in disbelief. Stark… acts strange. Not the way a human should under present circumstances. He should be terrified. Or stunned. Paralyzed by the stress. Bargaining for life. Trying to escape. Or literally any other extreme behavioural pattern. Yet he seems like a man totally comfortable with the situation. This makes the Asset a bit… no, not nervous. A weapon doesn’t get nervous, nor uncomfortable and definitely not interested. That is absurd. So Stark is making him… malfunction.

This has to be stopped.

“I’m sure you will let me know soon enough. Then I’ll insist that I won’t do it. You start to convince me, until I finally knuckle under the pressure. Maybe we can save some steps, who knows. But I’ll know soon enough, amiright?”

“Sit!” It orders, because doesn’t want to admit he’s right, neither that his behaviour makes the Asset confused. (A weapon can not be confused.) Time is the essence of every mission, and the Soldier’s survival may depend on the fact that It can trust the Mechanic with the task, can be sure that he is able do it properly. If he can’t provide the maintenance when it’s necessary, then the Asset needs a new mechanic – before any more physical malfunctions present themselves along with the mental ones that are occurring.

Stark, surprisingly, obeys and sits on a stool next to the table with the tools. The Asset takes off the left glove first – the dim lights glint on the metal of the fingers, and the Mark hisses sharply with surprise –, then peels off the bulletproof gear and slowly unzips its jacket and takes it off, too. The movements hurt and send pain through the nerves, but the Soldier knows by the itching and the dull throb that the wounds are already healing, so It doesn’t pay further attention to them and continues with the undressing. It wears a dark grey T-shirt under it, so the arm becomes almost entirely visible.

“Holy shit! What hardware you have! This is actually pretty cool, are you aware of that? Shit, if not, then you don’t even deserve it.” Stark looks like he’s gonna drool on the metal plates, and he can’t take his eyes off of it.

“This time, you are allowed to look at it and examine the structure. You are not allowed to do any actual work or use any of the tools. If you try to do anything more than studying, I will shoot you in your abdomen. Do you understand the conditions?” the Soldier wants these to be clear, so It speaks in a calm and lucid voice.

Stark waves and pats the chair on his right, waiting for the Asset to come over. It does, although the glint in his eyes makes It a bit hesitant. The gun is pointed steadily, not missing for even a bare moment, because a threat should be obvious. The mechanic sighs in relief as he moves his hands slightly above the arm, a heartbeat from actually touching it. It seems to torture him, but he tears his glance from the limb and looks up to the Soldier for permission. When he gets the nod, he finally settles his hand, fingertips on one of the nooks between the plates, and he sighs with delight. “Who the hell made it? Really, I want to know, because they are serious competition, which is rare in my business. It seems like an uncommon alloy, so I’ll need to run proper tests for knowing the proportion of the ingredients. Oh, don’t misinterpret, it’s not a request, it’s absolutely necessary if you want me to work with it in the future. Can I open it up? Please, let me open it up. Oh, great!”

As soon as the Asset nods, his fingers trail and finds the locking mechanism quickly. But a sheer look of the inside makes the man cry out. “Jesus, what the hell, man. Has a bunch of kittens played here with the wiring? Look at this mess, just look at it, seriously. Who thought it would be a good idea to cross these two? And ow, well, okay, maybe I’m a bit amazed here, it seems like it shouldn’t even work at this point, and yet I definitely experienced personally that it does,” he opens up more plates as he talks and peeks inside several places. “Huh. The join to the flesh is strange, it looks like… like…” That’s the point he stops and faces the Asset. He gulps visibly. “Is it attached to the nerves directly, right? How? I mean, it’s clearly advanced tech, but the wiring looks like the basics are made at least a decade ago, if not more.”

“More.” The Soldier is not sure how much more, and its memory is nothing but questionable. But the word feels somehow true.

“I will need to examine it. Properly. Maybe at this point ‘invasively’ is a better expression, and look, maybe I’m a genius, but I’m not surgeon, okay?”

“I clarified the rules. Not this time.”

Stark points around sharply, one hand still on the metal limb. “Next time or another, I will need more than this to do the job.”

“This place is temporary.”

The mechanic smiles brightly. The Asset feels warmth in the chest. It’s strange. “Great. I suggest my workshop.”

The warmth is gone immediately, and the grip tightens around the gun. It clenches its teeth. “You think I’m an amateur? I won’t let you near any place you know, nor any chance to alert someone else on the current situation.”

“Buddy, I could call my ride anytime if I want.” He wants to seem cool, but there it is again, the nervous undertone in his voice and in his smile. Stark is a great player, but the Soldier’s attention is as sharp as his skills. “Just a phone call and…”

The Asset smiles like a wolf under his mask and doesn’t answer. Stark furrows his brows for the lack of response, and slips his left hand into his pocket.

His empty pocket.

“Are you looking for your phone?” The Asset took it from the Mark’s pocket when It grabbed him first and purposely ‘lost’ it by smuggling into a woman’s purse. If anyone tries to track the device down, which they surely will at some point (if haven’t already), she’ll have a surprise. It did the same with his wristwatch and even the notebook and pen in his right pocket. Any of those items could be used as a tracker.

Stark mutters only to himself, but the Soldier is able to hear it anyway. “Damn it.”

Chapter 2: Tony

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Gorgeous art by araydre. :)

Okay, it could be much worse, Tony has to admit to himself. But that  doesn’t mean that it couldn’t be much better, too. He tries to calm himself, to be cool, collected and rational, but at the back of his head the mantra of ”fuck, fuck, fuck” plays constantly.

Don’t panic, Tony, just don’t panic, you can’t afford that, he tells himself. Easier said than done. Dammit, this guy is actually pretty scary. So what? Stark Industries work with the fucking military, he’s used to being in the presence of the scary guys. Except they usually admire him and want to buy his tech, instead of kidnapping him. Well, they say everything has to start somewhere, don’t they? Actually, it’s not even the first time Tony has been kidnapped, but that was long ago – he was maybe six years old at the time? –, so that probably doesn’t even count. He barely remembers it, anyway. Maybe he should tell this guy about it. Maybe he’ll relax a bit if he hears that Tony is familiar with the situation and won’t act stupid.

Well, actually, he will definitely act stupid but not right now. He needs to collect more data for proper calculations and then he can make a dick move. His mind whirls around the possibilities, trying to figure out a safe way home, but this masked man is a fucking guard dog or something and Tony feels the other man’s gaze on himself all the time, even if he just scratches his nose. He’s always alert, always watching… Tony can focus pretty well, losing himself in his ideas and inventions comes as second nature to him, but this level of dedication to something amazes even him. So it seems unlikely to have the opportunity of breaking out soon, and that means he has to find other solutions. He mentioned his money and the man didn’t even bat an eyelash at that, so he probably can’t buy himself out. (One can’t even count on corruption these days. Huh, what a strange disappointment. It’s kind of sad.) So plan C it is: he has to charm his way out. Can’t be that hard, can it?

Except it is. It’s fucking hard to be relaxed and kind to a man that has just kidnapped him to do some work for him, and for what purpose exactly? Tony is terrified to even think about that , but he can’t stop his mind, so he’s thinking about it constantly, and it sends chills down to his very bones. He’s known to be a weapon expert – the greatest one on the whole planet, actually, and if a baddie wants some good stuff, Stark tech is the best on the market, legal or illegal, doesn’t matter.

The problem is, Tony doesn’t build weapons for the bad guys. He builds them for the US military and for folks who use them the good way. Defending people and rada rada rada. He doesn’t care about the details, just the main image. And this guy, as efficient with his bare hands as he is? He’s terrifying all by himself, so he would be monstrous with Stark weapons. That’s out of the question. He won’t give him any of his babies.

But that’s not something the guy needs to know right now. He has to think that he’s cooperating, because when he said he would shoot Tony? Tony totally believed him. The guy looks like a total psycho with that mask and calculated voice and all. Though his words are always coherent and make sense (well, at least in a weird, monotonic way), that doesn’t mean he’s not partly crazy. He has to be crazy if he thinks that kidnapping a genius inventor billionaire is a good idea.

And yet, there is something in the guy that Tony can’t really explain but makes him want to just simply cuddle him, terrifying or not.

Does that make him the crazy one here?

***

“This is totally out of the question,” he states, and stares to the floor where only a filthy mattress with two layers of dusty blankets are. “I won’t even touch this. Did I mention the billionaire part of my life? I sleep on silk sheets, preferably next to a playboy girl or someone equally nice to look at when I wake up. Sorry, you don’t hit the latter circumstance. Okay, I can do without the lady, but I’m totally not laying down to--- okay, okay, maybe I am, just let me…” He manages to choke out the words as his kidnapper kicks his legs out of him and he lands on his back with a loud ‘thud’ onto the blankets. A dust cloud emerges from the blankets. He coughs a bit, mostly because of the surprise.

“Rest. Three hours of sleep minimum,” the guy orders. Instead of listening, Tony sits up.

“Where will you sleep? I don’t see any other bed.” He’s nice enough to call this shit a bed. The guy should be thankful.

He’s obviously not.

“I don’t require sleep,” he answers simply, which is totally bullshit, so Tony just stares at him in judging disbelief. And then they stare at each other. And stare. Those eyes are creepy, but not as lifeless and dull as he first thought. Actually, maybe this was the thing that captured Tony’s attention and made him  feel a glimpse of pity for the guy, because his gaze tells stories his mouth can’t or won’t, stories that are mysterious and full of regret and sadness and pain. Tony doesn’t know if Kidnapper Guy is aware of it or not.

So Tony is the one who retreats first. “Okay, maybe I went camping with Rhodey when I was younger,” he admits as he lies back, and he regrets his words immediately. He shouldn’t mention his best friend, especially since he’s in the military, right? But the man doesn’t seem to care. He hasn’t even moved in a while. Just stands there, next to the room’s only window, from where he can easily keep an eye on the street and on the room at the same time. “Hey, I’m sick of thinking of you as just a guy. What’s your name?”

He shakes his head a bit.

“Okay, I know it’s part of the ‘don’t let me know your identity’ thing, so you don’t have to kill me later, and stuff, and I really appreciate you trying to keep me alive and all, but a first name is not really much. You know my name, it’s fair if I get to know yours.”

He seems unsure now, and Tony’s heart pounds as he waits for the reply, because really, it’s the first time that he actually sees this guy as anything else other than collected and determined.

“I…” He stops there, then shakes himself, and announce more firmly. “A weapon doesn’t need names.”

“I know some folks who would argue with that. We give names to everything.” And by saying this, he don’t have to mention that the guy’s answer is a totally crazy one for sure.

“I am mostly referred to as the Asset.”

“Wha—are you serious?” Tony can't hide his shock which must be clearly visible on his features. What the actual hell? What is happening here? “This is insane,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “It won’t work, sorry.”

The scary ass man slash kidnapper slash motionless statue next to the window doesn’t answer. Tony can’t blame him, because he could either deny the statement, which is pointless because calling someone ‘the Asset’ is really crazy, or he could simply agree, which is clearly not his style.

“Come on, I don’t want to call you Nemo.” He might not know latin, but he listened lots of Nightwish back at the time, and he can recite their every single goddamned lyrics by heart. Maybe they should do a karaoke night sometimes with scary guy. It might turn out that mysterious man is a good singer, and who can be afraid of a good karaoke singer? Especially if they happen to be be drunk at the time.

“They also call me the Winter Soldier.”

“Not much better,” Tony chirps, far from thrilled. “It’s gooddamn stupid. And long for a name.”

“A weapon doesn’t need names,” he repeats himself with such a deadpan face and lifeless voice, that it sends chills down Tony’s spine.

“Maybe, but a man needs a name.” In the semi-darkness he watches his features. The guy shifts his weight from one leg to another, and that’s the most visible way he’s shown his discomfort since they’ve met. “And unless  there is any time-traveling involved here and you’re a goddamn Terminator Skynet sent back to kill someone, which I would probably know about by now, then you’re sure as hell human.”

He blinks slowly and doesn’t answer. Tony isn’t even sure he understood the movie reference, and Jesus fucking Christ, that’s terrifying. Who on earth doesn’t know Terminator? Fuck karaoke night, they should do movie nights instead.

“Clearly you have a name, so come ooon, just tell me. Not a full name. I want to be on a first name basis with my kidnapper, is it that too much to ask?”

He opens and closes his mouth, distressed, and Tony should not feel pity, but damn, even with half of his face covered, it’s sad, because he realizes that he really might not know his own name. Which is fucked up clearly, but also… what the hell?! Again. Who is this guy and what happened to him?

“Why do you need me, pal?” he can’t help but blurt out the question, his tone is more serious than ever since the two of them met. (Well, ‘meeting’ is kind of an understatement, but still.)

“You are the mechanic and you will perform the necessary maintenance on the arm.”

Right, he can answer that instantly. Tony scowls. “Okay, I get it. But what for? What’s your cause, your purpose, what do you want to do with that fancy arm of yours? Not baking souffles, that is a fucking effective weapon, that’s why you need a weapon expert for it. Who do you want to fight?”

“Anyone who threatens me will be eliminated.”

“And what if they leave you alone?”

“They won’t.” His voice has a finality so solid in it that mutes even Tony for a while. He turns his back to the man, but instead of sleeping he spends the time trying to put together the pieces he has. He’s not pleased with the result, but he’s sure he will get more information out of the guy sooner or later. And until then…

He’s stuck with a man who has no proper identity; who seems to be brutally effective at anything related to violence, hurt or death; acts like a robot half of the time, and whose eyes look like the equivalent of a kicked puppy the other half of the time. No one ever dared to say Tony doesn’t have an interesting life.

Then his thoughts wander back to his current situation, and the escape plans, and whether anyone will come to save him. Maybe they will, but not likely soon. They probably don’t even realize he’s missing yet. They will probably assume he’s in the heat of a party, or he’s locked in his workshop or something. Well, the dead mercenaries’ bodies on the rug of his office will probably give a clue, but how long will it take for someone to notice them? Does he even have a cleaning service in his office? He has no idea. He should have, right? He has no idea how his company’s daily routine works, except from the R&D section, where that bunch of idiots try to catch up with him all the time (and fail miserably).

Pepper will probably be the one to discover everything first, simply because she’s the one who is looking for him when he has to do something official. He should be nice to her when he sees her again. Maybe giving her a raise is also a good idea. Finding half-rotten dead bodies in the boss’s office is totally not filed under ‘healthy working circumstances’, or something.

He tries to sleep, he really tries hard, but it was never his strong suit. Sleep is for the weak, sleep is useless, he could do so much more with his time than sleeping - these sentences burned into his system from his very early days, and they served as guidelines all through his life, working or partying or doing literally anything else till his body couldn’t bear it anymore and he passed out. An unhealthy way to live his life, but if you’re rich enough, there’s no harm that can’t be minimalized. So he drank his smoothies, got his massages and stuff like that,  then he was good to go again.

Well, these little luxuries are out of the question right now. He doesn’t want to piss off his kidnapper with too much complaining (though if anyone, then a kidnapper definitely deserves it and more), so he just stays still and watches the ceiling and thinks about escape routes and tries his best to fucking calm himself down. He’s quite sure the man will ‘wake’ him up when he wants to do, so he’s not really worried about sleeping through anything important. And anyway, what could possibly happen? No one will appear here, this guy is clearly a lone wolf, no partners in crime or assistants or anything. Well, besides Tony, if he  is really what this lunatic wants.

Tony doesn’t know how much time passed when he catches the sight of movements from the corner of his eye. The guy slowly takes off his T-shirt and his undershirt and shivers uncomfortably. It takes a few minutes for Tony to understand why. The dark material on him - that is blood. Blood from wounds. Gunshot wounds, probably.

His breath catches in his throat as he remembers that the shirt was stained earlier, but he was too busy drooling on the metal arm and pitying himself  that he failed to actually realize it. Fuck. Tony knows he’s not really a decent human being - anyone could tell you that - but even he expects better from himself. Either it’s an advantage he could use later, or he should help another human being with the pain somehow, , despite their power imbalance at the moment, he should have noticed the other’s suffering. He sits up.

“Did you get those while saving my sorry ass?”

The guy doesn’t answer, which is, fair enough, not surprising. He does not flinch either, so he probably knew Tony was awake. He just… watches his wounds, completely still, and it’s too dark to actually see it, and that damned mask is on him, but Tony could swear that underneath the mask the guy schools his expressions perfectly, doesn’t show his pain even a little bit.

It’s impressive. And it freaks Tony out more than the fact he’s this man’s hostage, so instead of another round of self-pity he straightens himself, stands up and cautiously walks near the guy. “If we switch on a lamp, I can look at it for you”, he offers quietly. “I’m not a doctor, but I have basic first aid knowledge.”

It’s a bit of understatement. He wasn’t interested in studying medicine, but Rhodey insisted after a nasty lab accident when he literally burned off his own eyebrows and his best friend found out about his working methods. Lab safety is not important when you aim for changing science paradigms, okay? So Rhodey grabbed and pushed him into an advanced medical class, and later some university courses with their biochemistry and biophysics buddies (Tony had enough money to attend any class he wished and he needed to keep his mind busy, so he had a somewhat crazy schedule back in those days), and… well, when he got his diploma he was quite skilled in this field, too.

But his kidnapper doesn’t know this.

“It will heal.”

Tony literally jumps a bit when he finally answers. He didn’t expect a verbal response since the man seems to prefer gestures (and who could blame him with that creepy mask on?), and also… it’s kind of an absurd sentence.

“Look, it must be hurting like a sonuvabitch, and I don’t want you to lash out on me because you are too proud to take some pills or something.”

“Pain is irrelevant.”

Tony sighs a bit more desperately than he wants. This guy is really exasperating sometimes. (A bit like himself. He refuses to admit there’s any truth in the thought.) Without asking again, he marches to the light switch and his kidnapper does not stop him, then returns to the man’s side and looks closer at the wounds.

“Bloody hell…” He cuts his own curse and takes a deep breath. “How are you even standing, man?” The man’s tactical gear probably got most of the shots, but there are dark blue bruises all over his torso and there are some places where he was bleeding hard earlier.

But… It’s not right. The bruises seem as if they’re a few days old, and the wounds should be still bleeding since no one treated them yet, right? It can’t be from this fight, that’s not humanly possi…

Unless…. unless if something’s happening right before his own eyes. He could swear to any nonexistent god that the long, clean cut on the guy’s side got shorter since they started their little conversation. It won’t heal clear - at least the various scars on his skin tells so. This Soldier clearly saw many combat situations from up close, and Tony tries really hard not to imagine them, because he witnessed first-hand how agile and good a fighter the guy is, so the stories the scars tell are plain terrifying.

He lifts his hand then changes his mind in time because he really wishes to keep his hands, thank you very much. But right now a terrible option is forming in his head and he has to ask. „You don’t have any of the bullets still in you, do you?”

The guy shrugs, the move  a bit snippy, like he’s not used to it. „It will heal”, he repeats himself.

„It won’t if there’s any bullets in you.” Tony kind of hates the way this guy is capable of watching. Those clear and cold grey-blue eyes of his can communicate so much better than his weird words! And right now they say something along the lines ’I have no idea what are you talking about’ and ’I wish I could just rip your throat out for disturbing my emo phase of the night where I lick my wounds peacefully’ and ’please don’t hurt me more just talk to me’. All at once. It’s confusing.

Also, why the hell would anybody ever look like that. So of course Tony talks, like always when he feels a little bit nervous or insecure.

„I offer a deal to you. I’ll pick up some tools from the workshop which might be useful, then I’ll take a closer look and I’ll take care of your wounds. If there are any bullets in you, I’ll get them out. Unless you say you have acid blood or something which can dissolve steel, then i'll need more than my usual rubber gloves which i don't wear much anyway, you know?! But you need medical attention after you get shot, for fuck’s sake. Don’t act like you’re stupid when you’re clearly not.”

„You mean you are able to maintain not only the metal arm but the other parts of the body, too?”

„You do realize you have a talent to phrase even the simplest things as creepy, do you? But yes, basically that’s what I’m saying. I’m not a medic or a surgeon, as I already said once, but I’m capable of first aid. I know I have a bad reputation with people, I mean unless if you’re a lady which you are clearly not, but anyways, I can take care of your body, too.” Okay, this might be interpreted in other ways, too, but he’s not afraid the scary kidnapper will read it like that. Tony stresses the word ’your’ in his phrase because as far as he noticed the other man never managed to say ’mine’ in connection with his body just once during their conversations. Tony kind of wishes to not notice creepy things like this, but life is just cruel sometimes.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually they return to the workshop, the guy sits on the same stool and points the same gun at Tony as before and Tony tries his best to make his movements calm and natural, and also to never touch the other without direct permission. It would probably be a very bad idea to startle him while he has a gun in hand.

First of all he takes measurements on the  wounds. This is far from standard first aid protocol, but the Soldier doesn’t ask any questions about it. He doesn’t show any sign of pain, either.

Tony grits his teeth, which is a preferable alternative than hitting the other man with a screwdriver. This can’t be normal. Can’t be natural. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to ask what happened with this guy, but what the fuck happened with this guy? Actually what the hell is this guy? Probably he should find out both of the answers to understand what the hell is going on. Not nice things at all, that’s for sure.

In the end, he finds one bullet in the guy.

The Soldier refuses any kind of pain relief (unwilling to put the gun down, either), he just straightens his back and stays motionless during the procedure of the removal. Tony sweats and swears enough for two people, unable to stay quiet. After they’re done with this and he’s sure no other nasty surprise lies under the man’s skin, Tony takes measurements again.

His eyes didn’t trick him earlier. That long wound is definitely shorter with 0.1 inches. Anyone else might write it down as a measuring error, but Tony always had good eyes for minor details and also he knows himself, he doesn’t make mistakes with numbers. His kidnapper heals super fast. Inhumanly fast, so to say, but there must be another, scientific explanation. Forbidden human experiments, for example. That would explain the metal arm, the fast healing (maybe some chemical cocktail injected into his blood causes it? but if so, when will the effect run out?), and the runaway scenario circumstances. Or maybe Tony just watched too many sci-fi movies lately.

He disinfects and bandages the wounds anyway. Better safe than sorry.

He even pats the guy on his shoulder absentmindedly after they’re done, and they both seem to be surprised by it. Or by the fact that the guy doesn’t rip off his arm after. Whichever it is, they’re good for tonight.

 

Chapter 3: Winter Soldier

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Warning for a panic attack in the end of this chapter! It's triggered by the sight of pain medication (pills). If you want to avoid it stop after the description of the workshop.

 Two days pass when the Asset first considers the offer of the mechanic. He was and still is very insistent about it, always told he needed proper equipment for any maintenance on the metal arm. The Soldier knows that’s true. The Soldier brought various kinds of tools to each and every location he plans to use in the near future - actually he has no idea, when did he do that or why, though it’s another sign of his long-term preparations -, but these devices were not like the ones the technicians usually had, at least according to its hazy memories. Stark never missed an opportunity for babbling some more about his own useful equipment back home or the lack of them in the Soldier’s place or his enthusiasm about the specific weapon in his hands while working.

So it actually leaves only one question open. Is the Asset able to give the proper tools for the Mechanic, or not? If the answer is yes, then the offer is pointless and the risk should not be taken. But if the tools in question are really that rare that no one is able to get them without some unwanted attention on himself, then there's no doubt the workplace will be needed. The maintenance is a must and the arm is needed to be kept functional. The Soldier did not acquire the Mark for nothing. And anyway, what is the potential risk? He can watch over the Mark. He can stop him from any actual harm. And even if the Soldier can't, if the Mechanic is still managed to warn someone about the Asset’s presence, It can still kill him and escape the scene. It knows what the handlers are capable and what It is capable.

The problem is the malfunction It is realizing only now. The Asset feels somehow... attached to the Mechanic. It wouldn't sit well with him to kill him, which is absurd, and yet it's still happening. The presence of Stark is some kind of reassurance by the third day. The mixed signals of his calm about the whole situation and the radiation of energy and excitement about his task are oddly satisfying. The feeling - the Asset has to admit that it has to be one of those permitted feelings the handlers hated the most - is... is...

It doesn't have any words for that and It doesn't need the words. It wonders if the malfunction is in connection with the metal arm and whether it will be stopped when the corrections are done in the limb. Somehow It is sure that feelings don't work like that, and the metal arm can't be the source of the odd mental status.

The Asset doesn't talk about these thoughts, obviously. It doesn't talk about nearly anything, to be precise, the Mechanic uses his voice more than enough for two people. The Soldier gives orders when needed, but keeps quiet otherwise.

***

He tore down the bandages on the second night.

It was not a planned action.

Until that moment It was able to suppress the physical signals the flesh sent to its mind and moved and acted like It wasn't injured beforehand. But around three in the morning, when everything was muted like nobody else on Earth existed just the Asset, the pure need to free himself hit him like a train, and he started to strip from his clothes like a maniac, no calculation, just a blur of movements and the sounds of the clothes being ripped off of himself and the warm, muggy air of the room didn't give any relief just the need to do more, strip more, get out of his flesh, his mind, his everything, until his nails dug marks into his skin and he started to smell his blood.

The familiar scent ended the madness.

The Asset was panting and staring into air helplessly while its thoughts stood frozen in place and its body was unable to respond to any command, waiting for something. The seconds passed.

"Are you all right, buddy?" the Mechanic asked from the end of the room. A person would jump by the hidden and unexpected voice, but the Asset remained motionless for half a minute. It mentally checked that the mask is still sat on the face, despite the events, and only after that did It turn to the man.

"I...," It started to state, but the bizarre feeling was lurking around It, made It unable to finish the sentence.  So It just nodded instead. The gesture was a lie, and they both knew this.

"You didn't seem so. Can I go there? Please? You already ripped off the gauze, so I can check your wounds too."

There was no pressure in the offer, and the Asset said a quiet ‘yes’ before it could think through all the options for the best outcome of every answer. This haste made It... feel... like at the edge of something. "I'm out of the optional function parameters. Maintenance required." The Soldier reported to no one without further thoughts. The Mechanic whistled loud.

"Okay, you are creepy again," he announced.

It became a habit of his through the last days. He said that often after the Asset spoke, but there was no malice or offense in his words. He usually said it matter of factly, sometimes with a little amusement or hints of fear, but never sounded genuinely worried or terrified.

"You know you're allowed to have bad moments, too? I mean, you barely sleep, you work out a lot for an injured person, even your bathroom breaks are calculated as far as I see. You always seem to be worried about something, and the only thing you do regularly to satisfy your needs is eating. I have to admit we're quite similar at this point, I’m usually crappy at this whole take-care-of-yourself mess, so it’s quite a bad case if I’m the one to break this to you. You need to take care of yourself better if you want to fight with the ones who are after you, I mean, if anyone is after you, which I'm not really sure, just for the record, but anyhow you still think it’s a possibility…"

The Mechanic always speaks while working, the Asset was used to it by that time. Actually, it was a needed behavioral pattern because the Asset required knowing everything the man did on It, so he always had to tell exactly what he was doing with the mechanical arm. But right there, half naked because of some mental malfunction, right after the first touch of the long fingers of Stark, the Asset realized It forgot to command him to report his actions, and It also didn't point a gun to him. It didn't matter, to be honest, since his bionic arm was free to use and he could knock out Stark with one blow if it was needed, but the lack of preparation made the Asset feel even more unbalanced.

“Your wounds are healing even faster than I expected," Stark commented as he touched the scar of one of the gunshot wounds. The skin was yet new and fresh pink, but it would fade into a pale white color within two additional days. The Asset knew the body It uses has increased ability of healing, it was an advanced one compared to the bodies of the STRIKE team members It often worked with. The Soldier carried on a mission successfully with conditions that should have been fatal to anybody else and It was also able to go back to the field within days, instead of weeks or even months, though usually even It needed more time than that for full operational conditions.

This time, only two wounds left open by that check. They were uncomfortable but minor injuries compared to some in the past. The one Stark got the bullet out from was deep, digging into the bone, but small and well-cleaned at the same time. The movements the Asset made during the days didn’t help the healing, but working without moving the muscles of the upper body of anyone is literally impossible, so its regenerative factor should be able to make the necessary repair of the flesh this way. The marks the nails dug into the skin were burning, but that was also a consequence which should not be considered since they’d heal properly without any medical attention. At least that’s the Asset’s thought only by the internal input the body sent to him, without any outer investigation on the matter. Stark confirmed it, though, as he cleaned the marks (unnecessary action) and spoke during the whole time, jumping from one topic to the other, never really focusing on any of them.

***

Now the Asset thinks about this incident and tries to calculate. So far the Mechanic was close to obedient in every situation - and when not, his suggestions were useful -, and he didn't try to harm the Asset or work against him in any way. The Asset is fairly sure it's a tactic on his behalf, not his natural state of mind, but can't be sure. In his own surroundings, he may change and try to act, to fight back.

The thought makes his chest ache with strange, longing pain, and the Soldier has to check that he is uninjured in the physical sense of the word. Somehow he thinks it's not the first time he felt this pain, maybe he felt it for a very long time, but never managed to actually sense it? Well, this thought definitely makes zero sense.

He needs the maintenance.

He would probably need a full reset, except his mind screams against it, like it's a bad thing to avoid, and yes, the procedure is hated and painful and nothing he wants, but the relief of the blankness after it is something he misses.

It. It misses. It confuses the pronouns more often without the maintenance. It should be more careful and avoid these mistakes. It shivers when It realizes that It formed thoughts in the wrong mindset for minutes, if not longer. If a handler would be here, It would be punished accordingly, but they're not here, and It never intends to go back to them. The Asset has to be its own handler and punish itself for the incompetence.

It does push-ups until the whole body hurts, drowned in sweat, and every muscle burns and each nerve begs for a stop separately, but It only really stops when the light of the day fades into perfect darkness. The flesh arm shakes and It pants so heavily that it compromises its hearing and It nearly misses the movements of the Mechanic. It doesn't look at him. "We're leaving. Tomorrow. Five hundred in the morning."

Stark nods and doesn't comment it. It’ll be the third time they go from one to another place. "Why did you do that?" he asks instead, curious. That's his most characteristic trait: he always has more questions than it would be humanly possible to answer them.

The Asset doesn't answer. It doesn't have to. The Mechanic is not a handler.

"You're acting like an idiot, bleeding again. You tore up a wound."

"I know." It felt it, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't make It unoperational.

“Come ‘ere, let me look at it.”

It is an offer, but it does sound like an order. The Soldier scowls, bare teeth visible to the Mark, and doesn't move an inch.

He's sane enough to not try coming closer either. He stays where he is, leaning against the doorframe, only his fingers fidgeting around restlessly. He tries a different strategy. "Do you know how much you did? I counted more than three hundred, and I wasn't even here when you started. It's kind of insane, just sayin'."

"Pack up," the Asset orders as It picks up its shirt and dresses up, pretending the Mechanic didn't say anything.

***

The ride is quiet. Stark tries to start a conversation a few times - or, basically, in every five minutes -, but the Soldier makes sure to shut him up either with glares that promise horrible death if he goes on with his unwanted chatter, or slapping its hand on his mouth, or - when all else fails - by blocking out the man's voice from his head.

It has to be cautious. It was able to do some basic reconnaissance around the perimeter of Stark's home last night while the Mechanic was asleep, but didn't have the time to actually bypass the security and get a good look on the inside of the house. Being unprepared is never a good start for a mission, but it would take too much time and effort to actually explore the place, and they can't afford that. (The Soldier has yet not managed to name the crawling feeling in his guts that makes It nauseous and makes It question its actions, but the hate It feels because of the sensation is recognized, though usually not permitted.) The arm has to be fixed as soon as possible and maybe - just maybe - the mental malfunctions will stop with it.

If not...

The Soldier has yet to come up with a plan for that occasion.

It belatedly realizes that transporting the Mechanic would have been way more secure if he'd just shoved him into the trunk tied up, instead of riding him shotgun and let him constantly trying to confuse its head with his talking. Too late to correct that mistake, someone might see them if they stopped for that now. (And maybe - just maybe - for some irrational reason - it would be improper to do that to the Mechanic.)

As they start to reach familiar streets, the Mechanic's eyes widen and he sits back, impressed, in blessed silence for a few minutes. But when It parks the stolen car (the fourth one in this week?), instead of relieved or joyful, he looks nervous.

Which makes the Soldier nervous as well.

"You live alone." It's more of a statement than a question, since the Asset wouldn't make a move to kidnap the man without the accurate observation beforehand and/or proper knowledge of him.

He shrugs. "I probably won't have visitors either," he agrees. But he continues to fidget, his always-restless hands fiddling with the seatbelt, the doorknob, anything within reach.

"Stay," the Soldier orders, its voice harder than necessary. The Mechanic shouldn't be nervous now that his wish is granted and he gets the workshop he practically begged for.

"Wait, no!" He grabs the Asset's arm - the flesh and bone one - and doesn't let go even when It glares daggers at him. "You can't go inside alone." Only a lift in its brows answers to this absurd statement. "I don't think you would like my security system," he adds after a brief pause.

"I'm capable of disabling a security system." The Soldier hears something in its own voice... offense, maybe, is the best word to describe it, because even after these days the Mechanic is questioning its abilities. Maybe It should blame the malfunctions on this as well.

"Yeah, I prefer you didn't do that. We can go inside together instead and I’ll introduce you to the house. It will be fun."

The Soldier considers the offer. Both of them would be safer with a properly working security system. But a system connected to Stark could be used against the Asset as well. It has to calculate the risk and reward, but It has not nearly enough data for proper calculations.

It could ask Stark, but It wouldn't trust the answer anyway, so it's unnecessary.

Five minutes later, they slip into the house through the back door.

***

"Welcome home, Sir."

The voice - adult, male, with hint of a British accent which leaves the Soldier shivering for an incomprehensible reason - sounds from more sources at the same time. The pistol is in the Asset's hand before even It realizes its own movements, pointing at the room, ready for any incoming threat.

"No, please, don't shoot!" the Mechanic cries out, and It drives him back before he could walk into the line of fire. "It's the system, don't shoot, it's JARVIS, it's okay."

"To be honest, Sir, I'm a bit offended you didn’t mention me earlier to our guest," the voice remarks, and the Soldier's grip tightens around the handle of the gun.

"Explain," It barks through gritted teeth, eyes constantly scanning its surroundings. The disembodied voice levels up its frustration with each word.

"Yeah, sure. JARVIS is basically me since he’s my creation, an intelligent system, he's everywhere in the house. He handles everything from room temperature to security around me. He's like a personal assistant, just way better. See? No harm. He's here at my service, we're safe."

It doesn't ease the tension in the Soldier's posture, nor makes It lower its gun. But It doesn't stop Stark when he steps in front of It, and It lets him look into its still covered face, eyes honest and pleading. "Really, it's okay. JARVIS does what I tell him to do. Mostly. With him in our six you will be totally safe here."

"Except if you tell him otherwise," the Asset points out the hole in his logic matter of factly. It's Stark's turn to tense up because of the words, clear indication that he can't deny them, but he grounds himself pretty quickly. He straightens his back and puts on his bravest, brightest smile.

"Buddy, I told you, if I'd wanted to fuck you up, I’d already had the chance and I didn’t use it. What would have been the point? I'm an inventor, and you have a piece of futuristic tech attached to your body which I want to know more about. It means that by your side I'm right where I want to be, and from now on we're both in a good place. First and foremost, it’s safer this way, but being in comfortable and clean environment after your shitty safehouses is also a great improvement, you have to admit."

The Soldier doesn't know how the Mechanic does this, but his constant rambling is relaxing by now instead of irritating. (Like it was at first.) There's something odd in his tone, maybe, or in his body language... but it doesn’t matter, not really. The important thing is that some of the knots in its stomach loosen up, and a bit of the tension leaves the muscles of its upper body.

The Asset knows that what he says if a far cry from the whole truth. He’s not lying, per definition, but he doesn’t tell everything. The Soldier’s going to need to check the whole building, get to know every camera and microphone and their blind spots, the details on the working mechanism of this Jarvis System and ways to override it if necessary, the blueprint of the house with all the possible exit points, planning everything… Acquiring this information is the priority mission right now, not anything else, except maybe one thing. ”Show me the workshop.”

The Asset wants to see that place to decide if it’s worth the risk first.

***

At first, It is amazed. The robots that are hovering in the corner of the room are expected after the Mechanic made a warning about them. (More accurately demanded a promise to not shoot them even if they’re stupid enough to go near the Asset.) They greeted their master rather enthusiastically but kept their distance from the Soldier so he’s okay with it. It’s not like It has to be cautious with a mixer-robot-thing even if it has the height of an average human being and weighs twice as much. (It dealt with heavier equipment in the past. Probably. It’s not sure.)

The place is well-lighted and somewhat… futuristic, even to the Asset who is used to work with the best equipment in his missions. What he remembers to be normal tech is bulky, shady, full of sharp edges and capable of destruction all the way in and out. The workshop is the polar opposite. The lights everywhere make it well-lit and it should be harsh and unfriendly but it's not, it's yellow and somehow warm. Everything’s rounded, everything seems elegant, and radiates wealth. Old cars, computers, holograms – even a dummy could see they’re the most expensive kind. It's an unfamiliar territory full of things It doesn't understand, the robots are noisy - they're whirring more loudly than the Soldier's arm used to -, and It has no idea how these things are programmed.

But.

The reflective chrome surfaces that appear both on the equipment and the furniture are soothing because they give more angles to watch over the place and also the lights glint on them. It will make hiding in the shadows easier with the metal arm. The Soldier would expect black oil and grease stains but the place is clear except a few dirty rags, but it's not sterile, neither alienating. Something in the Asset's mind echoes the word home, and It thinks he could get used to this place quickly. Maybe he's even interested in it a bit, some strange curiosity curling in his chest, ready to form itself properly after some time. The smell of oil and metal settles on everything, the only thing genuinely familiar in this place.

The Soldier moves around, looks and touches everything, and tunes out the babbling of Stark. He’s not sure who the man is talking to – maybe to himself, or to the robots, but it’s possible that he even tries to communicate with the Asset. He doesn’t really care.

As he goes tension is building up in It, those damn nervous knots in the stomach again. He doesn’t know what is happening to him, why this place freaks him out this much – there’s no logical reason for it, really – but something is nagging at the back of his mind, like a constant headache one get used to living with but remembers from time to time anyway with a sudden recollection.

He jumps back when he sees some pills on the table and he’s struggling to stay upright as he’s stumbling on his own damn feet – what is happening…

“Hey, whoa, buddy, what?" Stark is noticing his state almost immediately, and he comes closer, and the Asset nearly whines as he sees him approaching. It’d be really… undignified to actually make that noise, and he knows it, and yet he barely avoids it. He steps back until his back hits the wall nearby. It’s irrational. The Mechanic is not a threat. The Asset is more than capable to handle him even in this unstable mental state.

He-

IT!

It nearly screams at itself. It should address himself as It is. The weapon. The fist of Hydra. The Winter Soldier. The Asset of the handlers.

But… there are no handlers anymore. It is… - he is…? - not HYDRA’s anymore.

It hears breathing, sharp and too quick to keep someone functional. Hyperventilation makes the lungs intake too much oxygen and it lowers the amount of carbon dioxide in the blood flow and it causes dizziness and fatigue and lack of consciousness at the end of it so the mind can kick back into normal breathing patterns.

It realizes belatedly that It is the one who makes the sound, that the ragged, too-quick breaths belong to It. Stark is talking. As always. It doesn’t hear, can’t process, It needs to focus on itself, to slow its breaths and regain control over itself and the body It uses and It needs to get rid of this malfunction RIGHT NOW otherwise it will compromise the efficiency…

His mind shuts down the spiraling thoughts the moment a hand suddenly lands on the back of his neck seemingly from nowhere. It freezes, waiting for the behavioral correction that It assumes It deserves. (From whom?) The pain doesn’t come. His glance follows the arm until it recognizes that it belongs to Stark.

Stark, whose other hand now lays on his chest. “Breath with me, just breath with me. In… hold it… and out. Good. Breath in…” The pressure in his chest changes as he speaks, and accompanying the words show him what to do.

It’s soothing. The Soldier knows the Mechanic is not a handler, but right now, there’s a determined glint in his eyes and his voice is even and full of authority and following his orders seems like a good idea. Seems like the best of any of the options, he doesn’t want to black out, they’ll hurt him even more if he does…

The hand from his nape wanders to his face and Stark grabs his chin through the mask, forces his face up until they lock eyes. “Don’t panic. Just don’t. It’s all right.” The pressure in his chest stays steady, something to follow. It gently presses the oxygen out of his lungs when he has to exhale and lets him inhale the next breath afterward.

The Asset could free himself – he’s stronger than Stark – but as fast as this thought crosses his mind, he declines it.

The Asset breathes.

Chapter 4: Tony

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Warning: Mention of past panic attacks and a present one for Winter.

When Tony's nervous, he's talking. His mother used to say it was destined like this, being a Gemini and all. Tony never believed in astrological bullshit, not even at age 5, but he always smiled and nodded when Ma talked about the stars in her own non-scientific ways. He thinks it's more about personality and education. Paparazzi followed his every step from his birth - the heir of the Stark industrial kingdom -, so he had to learn and act accordingly. Smiling was the easiest way to charm anyone, but talking followed closely. His always whirring mind combined with the somewhat short but intense focus of his attention on any person made it easy to figure people out.

Back in the days, he wanted to gratify everyone. As time passed, he gave up from his own expectations on this front. Satisfying everyone proved to be impossible even for him and he got tired after a while. (He was never enough anyway.) But the habit of the talking stayed. (He loved to talk after all.)

So he tries to discourse on the car ride. He goes ahead and rattles about his residence in New York - it was actually Dad's so it's not his favourite among his real estates -, and how much he prefers the Malibu mansion instead - that's the one he built specifically because some asshole stated that he can't -, and the great kitchen the house has - maybe they can make pancakes for breakfast, shouldn't it be fun? -, and...

Basically, anything to avoid being suspicious about his growing worry. He barely touches the semifinished device in his pocket, because... all his work so far seems to be useless by this development of the events. He never actually believed that Scary Ass Kidnapper will agree to move into his workshop. (It’s a rather pleasant surprise, by the way.)

But then again, he never believed he will feel worry or curiosity over a kidnapper, and it also happened, so there's that. He really shouldn't be attached, not even a single bit. He knows psychology, it's just some stupid programmed way the brain deals with this kind of situation, nothing real. (It feels real, though. Both the attachment and the curiosity.)

But.

He has more important things to worry about, namely his kids.

Okay, robots. Semantics.

He doesn't want Puppy Eyed Psycho to hurt them. (Not even DUM-E, though DUM-E would deserve it sometimes. But he's also a good bot and Tony’s ready to protect him even with bodily harm from anyone.) He has seen how the guy's got nervous because of unexpected sounds at any given time, and Jarvis will probably greet them as soon as they arrive - the AI is probably becoming somewhat nervous about Tony's total absence, being the only one who cares for sure -, and it seems like a sure recipe for disaster, so after some hesitation he decides to bring the topic up. He has to warn the guy.

So he talks and ignores the lack of response and the feeling of the other man not being there entirely. Hopefully, he still got some of the memos Tony was babbling to him.

In the meantime, while he's not allowed to talk, he can't shake off the memories of the past few days, his observations and his feelings and the guy’s all strange actions haywired into a mess in Tony's head. That scene when he tore down his clothes? It was crazy. Like looking at a completely different person - like it was someone else entirely at that moment. (It should scare Tony, but his gut feelings are nothing like fear. More like paralyzing sadness, similar to grief. More like unquenchable curiosity. More like... allurement of danger.) It's all the eyes, he thinks distantly. Those damned, pretty, expressive eyes.

And there were the workout sessions. The way the man moved away from Tony to shove some food into his mouth, never showing his face, preserving his incognito. His disappearing acts during the nights when he thought Tony was sleeping.

(Tony was not sleeping. He needed to work on his escape, after all, and he needed to be away from the guy for that. Winter was worse than a fucking guard dog, at least in this aspect.)

The lack of a name. The struggle he seemed to have about this whole identity thing. His distinction from his own body. His crazy-high pain tolerance and self-control.

The little bits and pieces are trying to tell a whole different, tragic story lurking under the surface, and Tony is kind of afraid what will happen, what will be the picture showing after everything falls into place. (It will happen eventually, with him on board, he’s sure.)

And there are the touches. The moments when the guy allows him to take care of the wounds, to work on the metal arm. The way he started to lean into physical contact instead of tensing up, like his life started to depend on it...

No, Tony won't go down on this path, not even theoretically, nope.

Tony’s not ready. Probably never will be ready. That would mean emotional attachment, something that he avoided at any cost since he was 19. (It would just hurt too much.) And this Winter guy won’t be ready for that either, not for a long time, if ever. That one is clear at least.

But the fact is, Tony's not sure he would be able to escape from him. Not because of technicalities: he’d most certainly be able to work those out pretty well. His nature is the thing that might stop him from leaving before he figures out the puzzle that Scary Kidnapper is, and once that happens he will be too invested in the situation to leave, consequences be damned. (Sometimes he hates himself for the way he works.)

Tony's not happy about it. Not even a little bit. But he knows himself and refused to fight this side of himself long ago.

***

Well, the introductions went better than Tony ever expected. No one gets shot. (Not even Jarvis and the walls.) Scary Guy is a bit freaked out first but pulls himself together quickly and jumps into the more practical mindset right after that. Tony appreciates. It gives him a few minutes to just enjoy the fact that he is alive and home. The teasing of Jarvis is as familiar as ever, and when the bots hurry to hug him the moment he sets foot into the workshop he has to suppress a few tears from falling. (Stark men never cry, he knows that.) This level of loyalty always amazed him in his bots and sometimes he even thought if he was able to create A.I.s this pure, maybe he wouldn't be a total waste of a person after all.

Butterfinger pets his hair and Dummy is spinning around his own axis and they are just so adorable Tony can’t really pay any attention to his human company. It’s okay, though, as far as he can see kidnapper is only discovering the workshop which is… well, unsettling, because this place used to be Tony’s sanctuary and hardly anyone is allowed to come here, even Rhodey and Pepper have their own restrictions, but still. Jarvis knows this as well and he’ll keep an eye on the guy, so Tony’s not that worried

Okay, who is he kidding, he’s freaking out right now. But that’s okay too.

The relief of being home, with his beloved AI family, under the wary sensors of Jarvis, is almost too much to bear, and not even the fact that he currently has extra company can ruin it.

Or at least he thought so. He and his big mouth that should be sewed shut already... He’s completely oblivious to the world for a few precious moment, then the next time Tony looks up Scary Guy is not scary anymore, instead he looks terrified and he's on his ass crawling away from Tony's desk, his eyes shut and his breath ragged.

Tony knows a thing or two about panic attacks. He had his own share of them - oh god, he does hate even remembering them. They appeared first after his parents' death and they were awful. He'll never forget the squeeze around his chest, the sudden halt of all rational thoughts, the broken repetition of guilt and suffering both in his head and his heart. Even nowadays he wakes from a nightmare sometimes, crawling out of too-tight sheets, wondering if he can breathe, and he’s been clear from the actual onrushes for a decade. The way the terror infiltrated his very soul felt like dying underwater, able to see the sunlight above his head - some tiny clever reason whispering reassurances into his ears -, but never reaching it -, his self-loathing and his longing for a loving embrace were too loud to allow the voice be properly heard and guilt were too heavily clinging to resurface.

God, he missed his mother so much. (He’ll always miss her.)

And even his father - rest in peace and never come back, judgemental asshole as you were, Old Man -, Tony missed him too, just differently. He kept doing things out of spite, though there was no one left to disapprove of his actions anymore. He kept rambling to him in his head, pointing out why he was better than Howard, why the old man should be proud of him.

Living with the Jarvises and having Obadiah at his back helped him through the worst of it.

In a heartbeat he's back in that time only to realize at the same moment - this Winter Soldier guy has no one to help him.

Well, nobody other than Tony.

This erases every bit of hesitation Tony had before. He's kneeling beside the man in the next second, and nearly squeals when said man flinches away from him and makes an inhuman noise that resembles the pained cry of a trapped animal instead.

It steels his resolve even more.

Up until this point, Tony’s priority list was pretty… self-centered. Sure, he did everything to make things better for others, but he did it basically because it served him as well. He helped others because it left a pleasing feeling in his chest, made him feel better in his skin. Also when others were happy, they were unlikely to harass him with the things they considered important and Tony considered boring. If he covered every bill and smoothed their ruffles then they tolerated him and his eccentricities better. Because first and foremost Tony wanted to be left alone to do what he wanted to do as long as it gave him the momentary pleasures he craved so much. (He resigned himself from longterm happiness anyway. Fast contentment was easier.)

His kidnapping didn’t complicate this setup so far.

His number one priority was to escape and go back to his usual life. Number two was to make the current situation as comfortable as possible as long as he had to endure it - whether it was by doing engineering sessions with the guy, which were actually pretty awesome, or by babbling a thousand words within two minutes and probably annoying the shit out of him by doing so, it didn't really matter. Maybe he should have been plotting the bloody murder of his kidnapper, and if he'd seem to be a less decent guy, maybe he'd do that.

But.

Under the creepy act he seemed like a decent human being, which complicated things and made wanting revenge seem pointless. And anyway, half of literature was about vengeance coming back to bite in your ass and he wasn't that stupid.

He definitely wasn't stupid enough to start liking his own kidnapper, wasn't he? Not in a century, nope, never, Tony's better than that. For sure.

And now here's the thing with this panic attack.

And all logic and every ounce of determination to keep the remnants of his distance is out of the fucking window in a heartbeat.

Tony realizes he's talking, but even he can't really pay attention, he's just tattling to distract and calm himself. Saying out loud his thoughts, the instructions to himself - what to do, in what order, to improve the circumstances and make the situation better as far as a logical deduction can lead to the solution - is something he always does when he's nervous.

Sad Eyes's mental breakdown is so fast and effective it nearly scares Tony more than the murderous glares, and the voice in the genius's head immediately goes 'help him fix him help it fix it' mode.

"Because that's what I'm doing, right? I fix things. Not people, usually I'm good only with robots and inventions and inanimate object, but hey, Creepy Ass, you act half of the time as you're a robot and not a person, so it might be okay to you as well, right? Dummy could tell, if he'd be able to actually talk, that I always repair him properly, too. You'll be all right, I promise." He can't stop talking. "With your perfect arm you're at least, dunno, twelve percent cyborg, so nothing to worry about."

Fuck this bullshit.

Scary Guy is not a robot, nor a cyborg. (And still neither scary at this particular moment.) He's just a human, and right now, he suffers, and Tony knows how's that feel, and wants the suffering to end.

Tony tries his best.

He clamps his hand on the man's chest, and by pushing it down, forces him to exhale, because the guy's hyperventilating and that's Not Good, like, with capital letters Not Good, because it makes the mind dashing even more wildly, and right now Kidnapper needs the exact opposite of that.

So Tony does what Ana Jarvis did to him once. He releases the pressure, letting him a sharp inhale.

Tony's not sure it helps. Under his hand he can feel the other's chest, but no matter how long Tony keeps repeating this rhythmic pressure-and-release routine, Winter's breaths don’t come easier, he doesn't slow down by himself, just obeys the wordless order without actually processing it while his eyes seem even more distracted and cloudy than in the beginning.

"Damn it," Tony mutters and clamps his other hand on the back of the man’s neck.

The response is immediate. Kidnapper sucks in a sudden, painful breath, and goes completely rigid under the touch after his eyes, now clearly focusing, snap to Tony's face. He prepares himself for a violent outburst, a hit on his face or something. The motionless awe lingers for a moment, then two, and nothing happens - both of them are too afraid to actually move, waiting for the other to act first - and Winter finally tears his gaze from Tony's and a spark of recognition flickers to life in his eyes.

Tony lets out a breath he didn't recognize he was holding in and continues the rhythmical pressure on the other's chest. “Breath with me, just breath with me. In… hold it… and out. Good. Breath in…” At least he's not talking to himself but to the other man because finally, he doesn't feel like he's alone in the room. Kidnapper seems responsive at last; it seems that the direct orders make through that thick skull of his, for which Tony is grateful, so he rolls with it. He repeats the orders, his voice soft but clear, and goes on for as long as necessary.

Dummy comes closer, hovering near and beeping sadly for not being able to help. Butterfingers is mute and acts like he doesn't pay any attention as he goes on with his usual tasks, but Tony knows his disinterest is fake because the workbench he's cleaning was actually totally clean before he started. Jarvis doesn't say a word, but at some point slow, quiet tunes started to pour from the walls, almost inaudible but definitely calming and comforting.

It takes a while. At the end of it, Tony’s not kneeling in front of the guy anymore but is sitting next to him, one hand on his chest, the other on his knee, and Tony mumbles orders and reassurances sleepily, exhausted by the events and the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

***

Maybe he even actually sleeps a bit - sitting on the ground, fuck, at least it's not cold, thanks, floor heating, but still uncomfortable as hell -, because next time he opens his eyes the music is gone, Sad Eyes is sitting a few feet away, eyeing the ceiling varily, while Jarvis - metaphorically speaking - clears his throat. Which, in this case, means he runs a little dialing signal (the one that successful internet connection used twenty-some years ago when people actually needed to sign in to have internet access), which makes Tony shiver every time just by remembering that miserable life. Therefore it always catches Tony's attention, and probably woke him up in the first place from his well-deserved nap. Fuck, his neck hurts from the uncomfortable position.

"What is it, Jay?" Tony asks after a yawn.

"I suggest contacting Miss Potts immediately. She is really worried about you, Sir, and she’s making her hundred and twenty-sixth attempt to reach you since your disappearance," the AI states.

It's a good idea by itself, but Kidnapper visibly tenses up at the mere mention of 'contacting' and Tony can practically see his snarl even under the thick fabric of that damned mask. Luckily, Jarvis is no less of a genius than his creator, so he realizes he shouldn't talk anymore right now.

"Oh, quit it," Tony grits his teeth and makes a face at Winter. "You can point your fancy gun at my head to make sure I won't say anything irresponsible, it's just a phone call and I'm not stupid. You're ready to hurt anyone who might find out your little secrets, right? I'm not an idiot, won't endanger the world's best personal assistant while I have her."

The frown deepens on Kidnapper's face. "You could transfer a coded message even through a phone call."

"Probably. But I won't," Tony shrugs. If it were Rhodey, he might try something like that. But not with Pepper. Pepper's a fighter, but not the physical kind, and Cyborg can be really physical which Tony has already experienced.

And by the way, it's not that necessary anymore, right? He's at home, he's with his metal family. Dummy and U and Butterfinger might be clumsy but they'd do anything to protect him from a threat, and Jarvis is controlling everything in the house. No harm can be done to Tony while he's with his babies, not even by Scary Kidnapper who moves faster than lightning and is trained to fight better than any army martial arts specialist Tony’s ever seen.

Yeah, maybe a match between him and his bots wouldn't end well for the bots. But. Still.

Tony doesn't plan to abandon the guy. It was just curiosity first, and it still is a huge motivator, but after what he's seen right now... that just made things somehow even more personal.

Kidnapper is a guy who suffers like Tony did once. And Tony hates when people suffer. He worked hard to prevent it - he created weapons for the army so they can protect the country, he perfected medical equipment to make life easier for people with injuries or chronical diseases, he invented technology that can go without much maintenance so poor facilities don't have to worry about keeping them functional... nothing of these actions can make a panic attack disappear, but in this case Tony was here and he managed to help directly, and the bare memory of the experience makes his heart jumping a bit with pride. He did something good. Even if Sad Eyes is not appreciating it - which, by the way, rude -, he succeeded.

Now is the time for further action: distraction. Tony picks up a screwdriver from a bench and plays with it while he stares a hole to the other man's nape. He should call Pepper back as soon as possible. It's as good as a plan as any. "I really want to know your name."

Kidnapper, who just started to wander around again, spins back immediately to glare. "I told you already, Mechanic. Why don't you call me the Asset?" He seems... annoyed, maybe even angry. It’s hard to tell with that damned mask always covering half of his face but Tony gets better each day at reading his moods.

"Because that's fucking stupid!" Tony can't help but snap back.

"Then use codename: Winter Soldier."

"That's not a name either!"

"What is a name then?"

This, actually, successfully mutes Tony. The question is... is asked in almost a calm, no, not calm- an almost shy tone. The question is simple, too simple to not to be a trick one (like the kind of questions Tony loved most during school, ‘What is fire?’, he asked his physics teacher once, who became so angry for being unable to answer a junior's question that Tony got detention for disturbing the lecture), too simple to have an easy answer. Tony can't deny the relevance of it though, they can't discuss shit without proper definitions and terminology... Before he could muster up himself to say anything, Winter turns his back at him and pointedly stomps away.

Tony sighs. He doesn't want Kidnapper to sulk, especially not right after a panic attack. He always needed company after them, a sore reminder that he was still alive and breathing.

"Hey," he calls out, before he thinks it through and messes everything up in his head even more. "Come back, Top Gun, I'm gonna make a call and I'm sure you want to threaten me all through it!"

***

“Tony.” Pepper's voice is all ice and daggers. He takes that as a positive forecast on his chance for survival of her wrath. When she's really pissed, Pepper uses kindness and smiles as her ultimate - and admittedly most frightening - weapons. So, in this case, she probably didn't reach the killer stage of anger. (Yet.)

Tony lives for small mercies like this. He beams, though the voice-only call doesn't fully transfer that. "Pepper, dearest, my sunshine..."

"Care to explain," she cuts in, "how your cell phone, full of vital and company-sensitive information, ended up at the hands of an equally surprised barista’s purse?"

Tony blinks in shock and looks at Scary Guy.

Scary Guy, who is indeed pointing a gun at his stomach, shrugs as a response. The barrel doesn't waver.

Pepper continues.

"Lucky for you, it was password-protected and we were able to recover it without further incident. Care to explain why I was unable to reach you in almost a week? It's been 94 hours since anyone reliable saw you!"

Of course, she kept track of the time. Of course. Tony was sure she'd be able to present the numbers in minutes or even in seconds as well. She's just amazing like that and Tony has to smile.

Scary Guy is frowning. After a little delay, Tony thinks he’ just figured out what is bothering him.

Pepper is pissed because Tony disappeared without a word (like he often does when he wants to dodge some of his responsibilities), but she's not worried nearly enough considering the dead baddies on his office carpet. If she witnessed through video feed that her boss was dragged away by a heavily armed guy in a middle of a firefight, she should be out of her mind, doesn't she? Tony starts frowning, too, and responds slower than usual.

"I was bored, Pepper, and anyway, everything was fine, right? Nothing in SI that needed my immediate presence?"

"It's a multi-million dollar company, Mr. Stark, of course there are cases that need your presence! Mr. Stane is worried about stock market positions, I had to reorganize three board meetings, the R&D department is waiting for your approval..." Not a single mention of cleaning services and cold corpses. "I'm telling you for at least the three hundredth time, you can't just abandon Stark Industries while you're the CEO of it. You're a billionaire and not a toddler. You're responsible for th---"

"I can’t promise I won’t do it again so you should probably record that for saving the time of repeating yourself," Tony suggests, but he's still not smiling, his mind working fast, barely paying attention to the actual conversation. To where the hell have the bad guys vanished? Meaning the unmoving ones, obviously. "You know I shut down when you start to sound like my parents, Ms. Potts. Don't you have maybe less boring stuff to discuss?"

Pepper considers that for a moment. "We're not done yet, Tony," she warns, but after that, she moves on to the next thing she considers worthy of his time but with which Tony disagrees wholeheartedly. Nothing new.

Except for the last part of their conversation. "I'm coming over with the paperwork so you can sign---"

"No, don't!" Tony recognizes a second late that he raised his voice. A mistake, clearly, because the line goes very quiet for a few moments.

"Now I'm definitely coming over," Pepper says finally.

"You are amazing, really," Tony assures quickly, "but save your time. You don't even know which city I'm in currently." He almost said he's not in Malibu, where they usually work together, but last time they met Pepper was with him here in New York and chances are high that she didn't leave without her boss, so that wouldn't work as an excuse. Except this vague warning probably just made Pepper even more suspicious, if such a thing is possible.

"Where are you now, Tony?"

Tony practically feels his organs are playing possum inside him under the pressure of Kidnapper's stare. On one hand, Pepper can be almost as frightening as Scary Guy.

On the other hand, Pepper is not present at the moment.

"In Sweden." He blurts it out because hesitation would most certainly make the situation worse. He can hear Pepper counting to five slowly and very quietly, but it's probably just his imagination. Then:

"What are you doing in Sweden, Tony?"

"I'm on a vacation." He shrugs. Like the gesture matters. He's too used to video calls with Pepper. "I'll go skiing. Or hunting reindeers. Or whatever can be done here. I wanted to be out of the States for a bit. You'll be okay, right?"

"No, I won't, Tony, there are things that I can't sign for you and you have to..."

"Oh, Santa is here, I have to go. Bye, Pepper!"

Tony hangs up.

He loves Stark Industries, it was his father's most important creation after all, but he hates being its CEO. Too boring, too much of the unnecessary bureaucracy. What's the point of being one of the richest people on Earth if he can't have his free time? Pepper will handle everything, she's just brilliant like that.

Tony takes two steps back and looks to Kidnapper. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" He grins and yeah, a man with a mask in front of his face obviously can't smile back but Tony imagines he does. At this particular moment it’s easier than figuring out why the guy is frowning all the time. "Let's grab some food. I'm starving."

Chapter 5: Winter

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Beautiful illustration again from the very talented araydre :)

The life at the mansion is easy. The Asset doesn't need to worry about supplies because there is plenty of everything. The place has its own security system, which the Soldier doesn't consider fully trustworthy, but it allows some rest to the Soldier's focus. Stark has things he can do in his free time so he talks less which is a favorable consequence (or… is it?),  and their conversations seem to be more relevant to the Mechanic's mission.

"I'll need proper scans," Stark announces - it feels like everything is an announcement around him - on the first working session. A metal rod bends as the Asset grips it with his flesh hand. The Mechanic explains, step by step, and he assures it won't be invasive and It won't even feel the procedure. The only thing is, It has to stay still while the equipment does its job.

The Asset is good at staying still.

(Then he has to move the arm a lot, and It still doesn’t feel anything different than normal and it starts to unnerve It, but then the procedure ends without any further incidents.)

A few hours later the Mechanic looks ridiculous, his face almost completely covered in smudge, protective goggles at the top of his head, hair messed up and only an undershirt covering his - unsurprisingly muscular - chest.

Because the Mechanic has built an arm.

"Look, I won't poke sticks to something that is connected to your nervous system," he explained with obvious disgust in his voice. "I've got skillful hands but I'm not a neurosurgeon. One wrong move and you'd be in so much pain as if I'd put a chopstick directly through your spine and I won't risk that."

The Asset wonders for a moment how that would be nothing but a normal session. It thinks, briefly, that there was a time when concern like this wouldn’t be an alien concept, but something well-known and warm in the chest, accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. Doesn’t say anything, though.

So Stark fiddles with the prototype instead, trying out how to maneuver his tools around risky contact points, how to unravel wires without disconnecting them. Next to the actual model a simulation runs all the time, modeling the Asset's hypothetic neural responses as well and blaring alarms whenever the Mechanic's motions seem to cause future inconvenience.

The Soldier watches his work in awe, noticing patterns in the Mechanic's movements, and remembering old days when It learned to repair motors and cars. (Where did that come from?) The company, once in a lifetime, is not stressing. The malfunctions, however, come more and more often and working on a life-size model of the arm doesn't help the Asset to keep them in control - quite the opposite.

***

The incident the Asset experienced in the workshop doesn't repeat itself.

As it shouldn’t. It must have been a serious glitch in the programming. The Asset hopes it won’t happen again.

(The Asset is quite sure It shouldn’t be able to feel hope either.)

***

The Soldier notices when Stark takes out a tiny unidentified object from his pocket and puts it down on the desk.

The Soldier investigates. The device is not familiar.

"What is this?," It asks, and for the first time ever Stark seems shy about something. He averts his gaze and taps on his thigh nervously.

"It's not important anymore. Now, if you look at this plate..."

"Answer the question, Mechanic," the Asset orders sternly. The diversion only made it more important to know.

Stark sighs. "Okay, just don't freak out, promise me," he mutters. The Asset stares at him for exactly twenty-six seconds before he gives up. "Who am I kidding, whatever. You wouldn't let me live until I tell you, right?" Another pause, then. "That's the device I wanted to use for escape."

Time freezes around them, or so it seems, and the Asset tries to interpret the words. They don't make sense.

If the Mechanic considered escape, why does he tell about it. If he built a device, why does he show it. If he had a plan, why didn't he act up on it. "Why." Instead of finishing the sentence, the Soldier lets the word hang in the air, making the question into a statement.

"Look, I'm not stupid, okay? I know what you're capable of and I know I should be scared shitless and I should want to run to the other end of the country from you," Tony starts and he's back to his usual gabble, words almost tangling because of their speed. "And I did at first. But. Things happened. And you actually don't seem that bad anymore, I mean, you are strange and scary and all but I don't think you're evil or that you mean harm to me. So. I decided to help you instead of running away from you. Happy now?"

The Soldier sits motionless for a while and tries to figure out his own thoughts. And his own feelings. Because he has feelings, almost constantly at this point - and this state is unsettling, really. No wonder civilians are so useless in field circumstances if they're this distracted all the time. The Mechanic is distracted all the time, too, except not really. His case is different somehow, because even when he seems like being all submerged in a project, he notices everything around himself. The Asset tried: Stark caught when It tossed a tool in his general direction while he was engineering the arm prototype. He's not just observant, but sharp as well and his remarks have proven to be right so far. Maybe that's the reason his statement about the Asset not being 'that bad' is important. Because it might be true.

The Soldier has no idea why this realization has an impact on him that’s bigger than a punch in the face. But it seems huge and important and way too complicated to be dealt with alone. It would need the handlers and the technicians and the wipes and...

The Soldier needs a distraction from that puzzle.

"What is it?" he asks for the third time.

Stark sighs.

"It's a double exponential electromagnetic pulse device. An EMP weapon," he explains slowly.

The Soldier winces and instinctively tightens its hold on the object, careful not to crush and thus somehow trigger it. "You tried to...?"

"Yeah, I wanted to fry your fancy arm and run, basically." Tony makes a face and seems relieved when the Asset doesn’t move toward him. The Asset can’t. It’s too complicated. "It's not the brightest idea of mine, but I was a little short on supplies. And you seemed frightening at the beginning, you have to admit."

"I saved you?" the Asset frowns.

"Yeah, by killing half a dozen men while doing it. Call me old-fashioned, but that's not usual fancy-gala-meeting circumstances."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the Mechanic's work lies forgotten on the workbench, their focus completely on each other. The Asset makes sure his breath is slow and easy.

"Is it finished?"

"Needs a bit of calibration, but basically yes."

"So you could have used it." That's not a question. The technicians used uncalibrated machines on the Asset several times when they needed to make him operational as soon as possible. It hurt but they didn't care about the Soldier's cries. He tenses up as he suddenly remembers this particular memory in details. If Stark notices, he doesn't mention it.

"No, of course not!" he protests. "I didn't want to harm you too much and that piece of tech literally ends in your brain, dumbass."

That's... strange. The fuzzy, warm sensation inside the Asset's chest seems more and more familiar as days go by. The feeling usually resurfaces during the Mechanic's speeches, but the Asset has yet not discovered the patterns of the words that usually cause it. But it's definitely a bodily response to verbal stimuli and it's most likely not within the programmed parameters of the Asset.

"Why show it now?" He wants to hear more. It needs to gather more intel to deduct the source of the sensation. And if It actually craves for the feeling of settling into the body more often and stay there as long as possible...

That would need a correction.

The Asset should punish itself.

It has to-

come up with-

something.

It doesn't move.

There's a chance the repair of the metal arm will end the malfunction. It can be the source of the unapproved response, therefore the Mechanic will make it stop. Maybe it's best to delay the punishment to after that point.

The Soldier, immersed in its thoughts, almost misses the moment Stark starts to talk after his own pause.

"Because I don't want to escape anymore." There's a brief silence while Tony looks at his knees. (He seems… the Soldier thinks about words like small and fragile and honest and lost and the words sound more familiar than they should and its head aches and its chest feels hurt.) And then his whole behavior goes back to usual, bright and pulsing with barely contained energy. He lifts his chin, plasters a wide grin on his face and starts gesturing enthusiastically. "I mean, besides you not being the root of all evil here, I'm home, so why would I ever consider to run away? It's comfortable, you're not that bad of a company, and you're also a good excuse on why I don't wanna work. Pepper might hate you later, by the way, for this, but nevermind. Plus using an EMP in a house that is basically run by an AI? Let me tell you, that is the single most stupid plan you'd ever hear. Not to mention the others. Look at them, could you hurt Butterfingers for example?"

The robot, hearing its name, rolls to their side immediately and bumps his... something onto Tony's side. The Mechanic pats it lovingly.

"You can break that, if you want, it won't trigger..." Stark adds.

Before he could even finish the sentence, the Soldier closes the metal fingers and hears the crushing sound with twisted satisfaction.

A second later it occurs to It that the Mechanic might as well have lied about the trigger. The Asset didn't think about that. How could he have made such a huge tactical mistake?

The fact that the Mechanic didn't trick him doesn't make it less of a  vast failure. Why did he do that? Why didn't he think like It should?

It occurs to the Asset hours later that he might just have trusted the Mechanic's word.

***

Stark has to make phone calls. As far as It knows, the Asset is present during each of them - actually, the man comes a few times to warn It about an incoming contact request and the need to recall. He responds to his phone directly only if the Soldier deemed doing so is acceptable.

He always has silly excuses for missing the calls. No one believes it, but they rarely put that into words.

"Tony, you were not on the rollercoaster of the European Disneyland," James Rhodes huffs out once. Instead of sounding exasperated like Obadiah Stane would, his voice is filled with restrained laughter. "There is no such thing as European Disneyland!"

"Oh, I assure you, there is!" The Mechanic looks almost comical with his nose being up in the air, his facial expression showing total resentment, but his eyes shimmering with joy. "Google it, you self-centered American barbarian!"

The Asset sometimes wonders if Colonel Rhodes will cause a problem. He’s military,  in peak physical condition, with the whole US Army's resource at his back - and the whole pressure of it as well. He's a soldier and soldiers can be ordered to do anything. Colonel Rhodes may have friendly feelings toward Stark, but if the command comes to turn against him, the Colonel would have to obey. The Asset, of course, would be able to protect the Mark from one single man or from one single unit but even It can't stand on its own against the whole Army.

Of course there's still the question of why the Army would choose to march against its own most important weapon inventor. The Asset saw more weird things in its life than this.

But the Colonel is abroad at the moment so It brushes the thought aside. Not a priority.

Tony answers only to three people, though the Asset knows there's also a fourth one on the acceptable list. Every other request is ignored. The Asset is pleased with this in a strategic way - less contact, less threat - but at the same time It almost feels... sad.

It ignores it.

He ignores it?

Feelings and pronouns don't make any sense.

***

It takes more than a week until someone actually shows up at the house. Because of the previous research, the Asset recognizes him immediately. Obadiah Stane, the Mechanic's second-in-command, known as the vice-CEO of Stark Industries.

Jarvis warns them on the incoming visitor and the Asset simply vanishes from sight. It still doesn’t trust the AI fully, but It is getting used to it and the sudden voice doesn’t startle It anymore as it did the first few days. The artificial butler didn’t do anything actually suspicious as far as the Asset can tell and the input Jarvis often gave proved to be 100% useful. (That was in case the Soldier didn’t count the sassy remarks the AI made. And it made a lot, because Jarvis seemed to have an endless banter with its creator to both of their delights.)

Of course the Soldier doesn’t leave to another room. It wouldn’t risk to let the Mechanic alone with anyone, regardless the person’s status in connection with the Mark.

Anthony Edward Stark is the Asset’s Mechanic and It is ready to protect its belongings.

Though obviously Obadiah Stane is not a threat in the physical meaning of the word. He’s aging and he’s a bit out of shape already and he doesn’t have any formal or military combat training. Even just by the advantage of being younger and doing the heavy lifting in his workshop, the Mechanic would be able to defend himself if a hand-to-hand combat situation would present itself, no need of the Asset’s assistance. But Obadiah Stane could very well be a threat in other ways. He’s wealthy, he has influence and he has a connection to every kind of other high-class people with influence. The Asset had infiltration missions before so he’s very well aware that a person like him could ruin a small country within 48 hours just by smiling and whispering to the right ears.

Maybe that’s the reason the Soldier is nervous. Maybe not.

But he is.

Unpleasant. He wants it to pass away, but not even his steeled force of will is able to terminate a feeling. (He should sharpen his skills. What good assassin is he if he can’t even kill something inside him?)

Not him. Not he. It.

It has to sharpen its focus as well.

Neither Tony Stark or Obadiah Stane is aware of its presence. The Asset hides in the dark spots, moves unnaturally fluent and not even the tiniest sound accompanies It. The spacious rooms of the mansion are an advantage of his. The grandiose furniture too.  It’s almost too easy.

The Asset doesn’t make it harder just for the fun of it. That would be highly unprofessional. (That would be very Tony-ish.)

"I'm glad to finally find you." The Soldier's grip tightens on the handle of the knife because Stane puts his big palm on Tony's shoulder. The Mechanic looks rather tiny compared to his company. "I've already been in three other places. I thought you don't like this one?"

"Not really, but... you know, I kinda think a bit of redecorating could do miracles for this place?" Stark goes on for a while about this topic, and the Asset is almost surprised when It realizes how fluently It can read his body language and gesticulations. Not just the fact that he's relaxed and trusting Stane, but even subtle clues that he didn't plan the conversation ahead and he's just making up the words as he speaks. Even more surprising that the Asset finds the speech entertaining in its own unplanned and sloppish way.

Obadiah Stane clearly not shares the same sentiment because he soon cuts in and derails the conversation toward the absence of the Mechanic. "Tony, really, where have you been? Your assistant was so worried about you," he states, and the Soldier's eye narrows at the words. Shouldn't he reassure the Mechanic that he was worried about him?

But the Mechanic's smile brightens immediately. Pepper Potts means a lot to him and the confirmation that she cares makes his day. "Did she?" he beams. "Nothing really, I just needed some rest and..."

"Son, I know you are smart, but don't try to trick a trickster, we both know that's not the case." Stane's words are warmly firm and his hand rests on the other's shoulder for further reassurance but his smile has a patronizing edge and his eyes a curious glint.

The Asset shifts its weight, ready to move. He doesn't know what should he really do. He doesn't want to harm the Mechanic plus killing a man like Obadiah Stane would cause more harm than benefit - his absence would generate an awful lot of questions in the wrong places - but what else could he do to prevent Stark from revealing him? Maybe it would be best to give a fair warning, let Tony see the Soldier is there...

"You act like a Designated Mom Friend right now, you know that?" the Mechanic smiles to Stane, easy and charming. He doesn't seem to notice the momentary tension on Stane's posture which disappears almost instantly. "It's not like I don't pull stunts like this all the time, right?"

"With you, I can't be cautious enough." The remark is dry. "Are you sure there's nothing going on that you should tell me about?"

Tony pats Stane's hand.

"Nothing to worry, really."

The Asset is excellent at detecting lies and even It can't tell the difference here. The Mechanic seems completely honest. Actually he senses more honesty from the obviously lying Stark than from the supposed to be straightforward Stane. It's an unnerving discovery.

They discuss some company business and Obadiah Stane leaves not long afterward.

***

"I hate Europe. I hate the metric system. What the hell. Why are you like this. Why." Tony's complains nag in the background of the Asset's mind, but It is not bothered by them anymore, quite the opposite. It is... nice.

Nice is still not relevant to the mission operative, but the Asset doesn't fight against the ascertainment. Fighting the malfunctions wouldn't be cost-effective as the repairs might take care of the matter soon. And if not there's still time for the Asset to come up with a solution then.

Right now, the Mechanic is trying one tool after the other - seemingly alike - to some threads in the metal arm model. "You are messing with me, right?" he mutters at the moment when one of the equipment finally fits. "This is some old soviet thing in my hand, probably from garbage, and this is the one that fits? I'm going nuts, I swear to every nonexistent gods, you are messing with me."

"I'm not messing with anything." The Soldier considers it's the best time to interrupt because it's always best to do so when the Mechanic gets repetitive. "Your visitor. Obadiah Stane, right?"

Stark immediately straightens his back and looks up in the Soldier's face sharply. "What's with him? I didn't say anything to him, not about you or the firefight or..."

"I know, I was there," the Asset reassures.

"You were?" Stark doesn't seem calm at all by the statement, but he pulls himself together fast and grimaces instead. "Of course you were, I should’ve guessed. So what?"

The Soldier chews on his lower lip, then stops when he notices he does so. (Unnecessary gesture.) He's not sure what to say because his concern is not justified yet.

"Something's not right with him." That's the most the Asset could tell right now. Usually It is far more precise than this, but It only saw Stane in person just this once and it wasn't long enough to pinpoint the source of its discomfort.

"Oh, quit it. Be a nice kiddo, Scary Guy, and share like everyone else in the playground." The scowl doesn't disappear from the Mechanic's face. "I won't out you, I won't tell about you, but I need to talk to people. I have a life and I can put it aside only for a while."

The Soldier tries his best not to be angry. He knows this and he's on his way of accepting this. He prefers the Mechanic as an ally and if it means the Mechanic has to interact with others and do other missions as well, then so be it. But Obadiah Stane...

"I don't trust him." The confession is more silent than expected.

"You don't trust anyone."

"Correct, but..."

"No 'buts', Top Gun, you are just jealous! He came, we talked, it will happen." The Mechanic slams some tools on the workbench for the dramatic measure and bends down to continue the fiddling with the arm's threads. His movements seem rather aggressive.

"I can't protect you if you don't take my mission input seriously."

The Mechanic signs to Jarvis and the music's volume increases in the workshop until it's impossible to talk anymore. The Soldier doesn't flee and stops himself from covering his ears, though the loud blasts feel like stabbing through his ears right into his mind.

The Asset needs to protect the Mechanic, but there are times when the Asset's maneuver is limited by secrecy or times when distance and circumstances will make its intervention delayed. The Mechanic has to stand his own for a while in situations like that.

The Soldier considers the options, watching the muscles flex and relax in the Mechanic's shoulder. He has physical strength and motor coordination, just probably needs a lot of guiding.

The Asset starts to plan the training.

***

Three days later the Mechanic tosses the model aside and calls for the Asset.

The Soldier still points the gun to him through the procedure but it's not needed. Stark smiles proudly and talks a mile in a minute and it takes about ten minutes because he's so cautious with his moves.

It tickles a bit and the Asset feels the scratches like the tools have tips of claws that gingerly scrape the arm and therefore the Asset's nerves.

After he's done the Mechanic orders It to move its fingers and It does. He orders to make a fist and It does. They go through the whole range of fine motoric skills and It is able to do them flawlessly and yet there is something strange. Stark watches the Soldier's eyes for clues but it takes a while for the Soldier itself to understand what unnerves It. It's not an extra sensation: it's the absence of it.

There was a weight, or more like... a blanket, a cover in the mind. A soreness in the background, some unconscious feeling.

It was pain.

The arm doesn't cause pain anymore.

***

And yet... the Asset's not ready when Tony announces he's removing the mask.

 

Chapter 6: Tony

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Living with a possible-maniac-serial-killer has its quirks. Tony thought he's good at prognosing people's behavior, and yet the guy manages to surprise him all the time.

He's an embodiment of jumpscare pranks, but Tony gets used to that after a few days. Also, Jarvis notices and starts to hum warningly whenever Kidnapper is close to sneak up behind Tony, so it stops being an issue entirely.

He can actually be sweet. Not the usual meaning of the word, but by the third day in the mansion he becomes a bit more verbal, and his words - though paranoid as fuck - are actually about protecting Tony and making sure no harm can be done to him, and... okay, it should be creepy. It is a bit creepy, but at the same time endearing. It shows that in his own way, Kidnapper cares about Tony, and Tony is kind of short on people who really, genuinely care about him.

Although to be fair, Tony has his own worries. "What if I'm not useful anymore?" he asks the other and gets only a blank stare as a response. "What if I'm an idiot and, dunno, blow my arms away?"

There still is a bit of pause before the guy, visibly struggling with putting the words together, manages to say, "You are my Mechanic."

"I get it, I totally get it," Tony reassures him. "But what if I won't be able to do mechanic things anymore?"

"You will always be the Mechanic," Kidnapper says, and he even - honest to god - shrugs, like there's nothing they can do to change this. Tony doesn’t even try to ignore the happy leap his heart does at these words. Scary Guy is good at many things, but lying is definitely not among them. If he said these words, he really meant them.

Tony shouldn’t be this happy for having a personal kidnapper murderer pet, yet he is. Even if it definitely means problems.

Because dear God, the guy has issues. Like, so many issues even Tony doesn't dare to start counting. The hoarding. Jarvis reported that he stores all kind of non-perishable food in his room, like some kind of food-inclusive kleptomaniac. Beside this fact, he’s clearly uncomfortable with eating in general, and boy, don't start on showering. The guy really has to stink before he goes to the bathroom and cleans himself. Add to that the language thing, when he accidentally - was it really an accident or did he just pretend to be confused afterward? - shifts between languages. And sometimes he’s able to talk almost normal, but other times? The robotic act slips back into place. The insomnia, mixed with the occasional probably nightmares when he’s tossing and turning and mumbling. And...

The list could go on and on. Tony's heart aches when he thinks about it. Poor kidnapper bastard is fucked up good and Tony wants to help him.

But who is this man he wants to help, exactly? The obvious question presents itself and Tony - despite still being under the close supervision of Scary Guy - manages to sneak off for some plotting with Jarvis. "Find me anything about him," he instructs his baby, listing the information they have from the two creepy aliases to that awesome metal arm. (It's a short list.) "It can't be hard to find something about him even without facial recognition, I guess."

He guesses wrong. Jarvis stays mute, nevermind Tony looking for any opportunity to be left alone by Scary Guy.

***

"Tony, the company needs you back on track."

"I'm managing R&D and Obie takes care of everything else. He could do so before me and he can definitely do now."

"I understand and he does fine, but it's your company, your name on everything, and you really should pay more attention to it."

Tony frowns down on the metal plates and tries to come up with a more clever solution of the elbow placing. If they stay like the original design, they'll nip the fabric of every clothes that are not stiff like leather or armor. "I have more important things to do right now," he answers with a bit of delay. The placing's not an urgent problem since there are more important flaws in the arm's integral structure to deal with, but Tony likes to think about design beforehand...

"I need you, Mr. Stark," Pepper stresses, and this confession stops Tony completely. He swallows audibly. "I can't go on like this anymore, just let me do my job."

Tony feels he's blushing as guilt rises up in his throat. Pepper really deserves more than this - she's so amazing - but Tony can't betray Sad Eyes' trust either - and that arm is a masterpiece and has such perfect flaws in need of upgrading...

It seems like there's no ideal solution to this problem, at least not at the moment. Tony's pretty sure he will have more room to maneuver after he completely figured out that metal arm. It's not like he couldn't sneak out or something. Even without Jarvis's help, Kidnapper periodically leaves him alone from time to time, so Tony could easily drive to SI in theory.

But he decides against it. Kidnapper's not a guy to trust anybody easily. Somehow, Tony earned that. He doesn't plan to waste a gift like this until it's unavoidably necessary - and right now SI is far from actual need of his immediate presence.

"I'll send you something that will shut up anyone in the company," he says finally, his voice softer than he planned. "It's completely finished. I've even made the production line programming. Literally, all they have to do is line up the materials, insert the code and sell the result, can’t be that hard even for them."

"That's just, like, half of our problems…"

"Obie will take care of the rest. SI worked fine without me in the past several times for longer than this, they’ll be fine."

"Maybe, but you should come here and do some..."

"I'm sorry, Pepper." Tony cuts off the conversation. The line beeps sadly as he stares at the wall, unblinking. He feels bile rising in his throat again, and tries to calm himself down.

He's not letting anyone down with his absence, Obie knows he's here and he'd ask for him if it would be really necessary. Obie is more than capable of running the boring day-to-day work in the leadership of Stark Industries. Tony’s assistance is far more important in the R&D department.

Sure, it must be a bit harder for Pepper... since he's not there physically... she...

Tony almost jumps out of his skin when Kidnapper taps lightly on his bicep. The man's ice-blue eyes lock into his, gaze intense and focused and... worried? "You all right?"

It’s not about functionality or if he’s able to do his work. Sounds like honest to god, genuine concern for his wellbeing. Something that seemingly confuses even the man who asked the question.

Tony is speechless for a good half minute, then swallows and nods. Kidnapper lifts his fingers, stares at them for a brief moment, then hides them under the table in his lap. "Good," he manages to say. It may be the first time the guy found silence uncomfortable and said something just to fill it with something.

"Yeah. Good," Tony repeats, and a weary smile appears on his features as he watches the other one. Yes, he decides, he may be the worst candidate trying to be trustworthy, but he's willing to be exactly that to show Sad Eyes it's an actual, existing thing. Then he pulls himself together. "Jarvis, send the Jericho folder to Pepper. The board members will love her when they see that baby."

***

It took more than a week for Jarvis to come up with something about the Winter Soldier he decides is worth to share. Tony just had dinner - definitely not with Kidnapper, who still covers his face and therefore can't really eat in front of him, but something like that. They were both present, that's for sure. Not like Tony was teasing about it being a date. Nope, he'd never do that. And Kidnapper definitely didn't disappear into his room after the teasing. Why would he be bothered. How insane that would be.

"Sir, if I may, I assume I found something you'd be interested in," Jarvis starts. "I had to go through some secured servers for this information to acquire, but all my inspections suggests it's correct and reliable."

"That's great, J, hit me with... what the fuck." The moment he speaks there is a giant tube or something on his screen and Tony blinks stupidly for a few moments. "What the hell am I looking at?"

There's a brief pause, and then the AI answers. "As far as my research goes at this moment, this is a cryofreeze chamber, and it is used to contain the Winter Soldier in cryostasis between his - or, as he is mostly referred, Its - missions."

Tony chokes on his smoothie. "Who would do..."

"I have not yet acquired that information since neither the person nor the organization accountable for the Winter Soldier is yet to be named beside being the 'handlers' of the Asset."

Tony flinches so hard he knocks his drink over. "Don't call him like that." Dum-E rolls closer to clean it up, but somehow senses his creator's discomfort, so he pats Tony on the shoulder instead and stays next to him, ignoring the puddle of juice.

"My apologies, Sir, but our houseguest is notoriously referred by this term in the documents I've found."

"Show me."

There are a few pages that fill the screen, and Tony watches them thoughtfully despite the fact that half of them is covered in black text coverage. Words and sentences are hidden, sometimes the remaining text is more garbage than actual coherent paragraphs, but there are things still understandable.

Tony feels his entire body go tense and cold just by reading it. The documents are some form of detached, fragmentary manual for the 'handlers' of the Winter Soldier. Sentences like 'the procedure has to remain unchanged to avoid the confusion of the Asset'

(what.)

and 'during the process, the environment has to stay neutral, without any indication of time or location'

(the.)

and 'due to former conditioning, the Asset responds well to physical punishment'

(actual.)

and ‘the wipes are most effective when they take place both before and after the cryofreeze and are accompanied by the standard brainwashing techniques’

(fuck.)

and...

U comes closer too and Tony even calls Butterfingers there because he needs the comfort, and his bots assembling around him like ducklings around their mother is the most comforting thing he can come up with right now. He sighs deeply and forces his stomach to stop hurling. Jarvis underlines some things but mostly Tony reads quietly, one heavily censored page after the other. There's nothing useful about the arm - except the statement that if the Asset ever damages it during a mission, It - he - whatever - has to be punished accordingly. (Tony feels dizzy and nauseous.) Fortunately, not a single word describes what exactly these missions are, though Tony can guess. But they say a bit about 'behavioral corrections' and 'punishments', when and how to use them. The latter is usually given for showing emotions or not being obedient enough or - horribile dictu! - asking questions.

There is one video recording. It's old and grainy and it shows nothing spectacular: just Kidnapper, half-naked, kneeling on the concrete floor, head bowed, hair probably covering his face completely, hands behind - no restrains, just being there -, and blood dripping from his back. More precisely, from the wounds of carefully and symmetrically placed knife cuts on his back.

The figure does nothing. He kneels. He doesn't even shift his weight. He doesn't look up when someone passes by him. He doesn't show signs of pain. He waits. Blood drips into his own open palm.

Tony's mouth hangs open for a moment and he thinks maybe something went horribly wrong in Jarvis's search because this man in total submission can't be the Scary Guy Kidnapper he knows. Can't be the man who is capable of the stunts he pulled when he rescued Tony. But everything else is correct, from the shape of the body to that damned, one-of-a-kind metal arm, so it has to be him, whether Tony likes it or not. The recording is shot from behind, so Tony still can't see the face despite the lack of mask, and he wishes so hard to see, but at the same time, he doesn't want to see at all. He doesn't want to see if there would be only blankness in that face, if Kidnapper didn't even realize this is sick and twisted and farthest from okay.

Tony gets nauseous, gets this empty feeling in his chest, and the world just crumbles and he wants nothing else than being hugged not by only his bots but by his human friends as well. He wishes Rhodey or Pepper or Obadiah would be there - they might know what to do with all of this, with Kidnapper and Jarvis's discovery and this whole mess in general. He wishes Pepper to complain about him, just because in those moments Tony always feels her whole attention on him. He wishes Rhodey to be there with that dopey smile of his, hugging him - and probably saying something 'no homo' thing through it - just to make Tony smile. He wishes to hear the calm and collected voice of Obadiah, reassuring that Tony doesn't need to worry and he will help to handle everything. He even wishes Happy to be next to him, making a complete fool of himself just to make Tony smile.

For the first time, he truly feels isolated from his friends. It surprises him the most that it's not because of not meeting them. They are adults with their own lives, especially Rhodey, they are used to the distance. But because even if he wanted, he couldn't ask them about all of this. It's not his past and not his secret and Kidnapper's presence and their connection is not something that's open to any discussion. He can't ask for advice and can't talk to any living soul - not even the person in question.

Tony has to figure out this mess all on his own.

Well, maybe not completely. It's true his human friends are not there and Tony can't call them - not with this, at least -, but his metal children are, so he clings to his bots instead, lays his temple on Dummy and pets U and lets Butterfingers play with his hair, while Jarvis clears away the disturbing documents and plays some nice Metallica playlist to embrace them with music. Tony decides being with his chosen family is better than to crawl under a blanket and fall asleep wishing to never wake up again, so he stays there until morning comes.

***

"You have to be able to protect yourself," Sad Eyes announces one morning. Tony suppresses a yawn. He had a fairly good night's sleep but that doesn't help with the gazillion previous ones without it. And he'll never be a morning person. Never ever. He pours another cup of coffee and ignores the guy.

"You have a gym."

Tony sips his cappuccino and sighs in relief with closed eyes. Caffeine makes everything way better. Even mornings, which is equivalent to a miracle. Whoever invented coffee beats God. That's a fact. Is that a fact? Tony has to a find a way to prove it as a scientific fact.

"Mechanic!"

Tony growls and opens his eyes, only to be face to face with Kidnapper, who is very close to grabbing his arms, but seemingly stops himself mid-motion, making the situation simply awkward for himself.

"Yeah, I'm here, I've heard you."

Kidnapper stays in place and looks at Tony's face sharply like this reassurance only made things worse for him. "You. In the gym. In five minutes. Training ready," he barks the words then storms out of the kitchen.

Tony looks after him and shrugs. The guy must've a grumpy day. Too bad. Tony has one too. He got up early, and that's outrageous.

Tony's day gets worse when he's dragged into the gym on the shoulder of Scary Guy like a sack of potatoes. Those metal plates dig into his belly really uncomfortably and Kidnapper drops him without any kindness.

“Ow.” Tony groans and rubs his sore spots. "Careful here. I'm too old for this heated foreplay."

Kidnapper ignores his previous sarcasm. Fine, it's not surprising, but still hurts Tony's ego a bit. He's literally a genius, why can't he get some recognition? “You will learn how to protect yourself.” The announcement is even more irritating for the second time, if anybody asks Tony. He groans louder. "I have a training schedule for you." Tony makes an insulted face. "You have the physical capability of self-defense and I'll show you the techniques. We'll practice them." The determination in Sad Eyes' voice pretty much makes it sound like he already has a plan or two on that.

Tony pouts, still sitting on the floor of the gym. "Why? You can take care of that protection thing pretty well."

"You have to be safe when I'm not there, either when you leave the safety of this place or..."

"Wait!" Tony lifts his hands and stares at the guy. "Am I allowed to leave the house?" Well, technically, Scary Guy never said anything about leaving since they were in the mansion, but Tony assumed it was a given, considering his behavior earlier during the shitty safehouse-period of their little adventure.

The silence is stretching between them, and Kidnapper's eyes seem just as confused as Tony feels. He kinda wishes to ask out loud what the freezing hell is happening right now, because he seriously has no idea.

"... I think?" Top Gun sounds so uncertain Tony almost takes pity on him. Almost. He waits instead. "Yes, as long as you come back?" Sad - now Confused - Eyes adds after a bit of considering.

Tony is on his feet in the next moment, his smile wide, and he feels like his whole body is light as a feather. "That's great, that's really great, I..."

"But you have to be able to protect yourself," Kidnapper cuts through his words and now seems adamant as ever. Tony still doesn't feel worried, though. He's a high profile billionaire, of course he had all kinds of self-defense training in the past, too.

But he senses the confusion of Kidnapper and he thinks he can safely push his luck a little bit further.

"Okay, we're doing this training thing, on one condition." The guy visibly tenses up and nods jerkily, not saying neither yes or no before hearing the condition. "You tell me your first name."

Tony's not sure he has one. After what Jarvis found, after reading the files that described the guy and his handling methods, he wouldn't be surprised by that anymore. His treatment was worse than a rabid animal's. Whoever had him was sure he needed drastic measures to keep him in check, to stop him from being dangerous to the… taskmaster. (Tony refuses to call them owners or masters, that's just wrong on so many levels.) The files always describe him as a machine, as a tool - no wonder the name 'Asset' stuck with him.

Considering all, Tony's pretty sure he won't get an answer, at least not one he can count as an answer. Kidnapper eyes him warily, and maybe he wants to step back or leave but he steels himself and takes a deep breath instead.

"I'm... you can..." He stops and tries again. "Name's James." And then he just stands there, hands loose, his shoulders suddenly hunched and he seems so lost and so afraid Tony's skin itches to pat him on the head or give him a hug or something.

Instead of doing anything stupid like that, Tony smiles warmly and nods in acceptance. "Nice to meet you, James." He doesn't even offer his hand, he's pretty sure even that would be too much at this point.

They stand there in silence for a good ten seconds, as long as Tony is capable of staying still and mute. Then he claps his hand and ignores the shivering effect it has on James.

"So. Deal. Training," he reminds both of them. "I'm ready."

***

Tony was not ready. Tony was so fucking much not ready.

He kinda wishes to kill James. A little bit, at least. That man is a monster, holy shit, Tony's whole body is aching. How does he even has sore muscles in places he never knew he had? Fuck this shit. It's cold comfort that by the end of their training session, James complimented him twice and admitted he was 'not completely helpless', which. Well. Might have been an insult from anybody else, but Tony suspected it was among the highest praises from Top Gun Kidnapper Scary Guy.

Who at that particular moment watches him groaning and complaining and honest to god whining without any trace of empathy.

"Next session at 5."

"Fuck you."

"Still at 5."

Luckily, James leaves the kitchen before Tony could throw anything at him.

***

Naturally Tony does not show up at that training. No way. Using the permission from last day's conversation, he leaves the mansion way before that. He goes before James could discover he's heading out - as much as Tony will be referring to their conversation as a valid defense if challenged, he's not convinced Kidnapper wouldn't stop him from actually going out - saying he's not ready enough to protect himself or whatever.

He chooses the Acura, simply because it's there (this garage doesn't have as many options as his Malibu mansion) and because it's open. Tony wants to feel the wind as he drives. It's almost intoxicating to be outside again. Tony is good with indoor life - he prefers it, actually - but after a month or so he really enjoys driving around in New York City. He'll probably have at least a dozen speeding tickets but who cares, Jarvis will make sure to cover them. Him having fun is more important than stupid rules. He's a good driver, a very good one so to say, he's not in any danger, not even when that asshole nearly scratches his baby.

Pepper is not alone waiting for him at Tony's favorite restaurant.

"Happy!" Tony nearly shouts as he sees the dumpy figure of his supposed-to-be-driver. "When did you arrive from home?"

Usually, he's good at faking everything, but right now Tony can't summon his chill.

Especially not when Happy, forgetting about himself, hugs him. Tony wasn't aware how much he missed touching other people until now. Of course he touched Sad Eyes - it was kind of inevitable while working with the guy's arm, but that was different, strictly sterile and professional, without any affection in it. And let's be real, Happy might not be the world's best driver or best bodyguard, but he is a champion of soft-yet-strong bear hugs. In the last one and a half month Happy was abroad, visiting his parents back in Switzerland - a trip Tony insisted he should do each year.

The hug is warm and familiar and comforting and for a few brief, blessed moment Tony buries his face into Happy's shoulder, before he catches himself doing so. It's... not something he often does, only when he's really starving for affection. He shouldn't be this touch-starved after a month of leave from work, supposedly spent with various women, as everyone would surely assume. He slowly and awkwardly unfolds himself from Happy's arms and takes a look at Pepper.

She noticed it, Tony would bet on that. But she doesn't show it.

"For almost a week," Pepper answers the question instead. She looks stunning as always in a light blue costume, hair pinned to the top of her head, her freckles barely visible on her light skin. Her eyes, though, are icier than the shade of the dress.

"I've been driving Miss Potts around in the meantime, boss," Happy adds cheerfully yet a bit defensively. Tony doesn't mind, he's actually glad that his two favorite employees can work together that well, and it's really not Happy's fault that he was missing lately.

"I'm happy you are here, Happy," Tony grins on his own purposefully awful joke as they all sit down. "And Pepper, dearest, meaning of my life, don't be mad at me. You know me."

"Oh, I definitely know what you'll do in the next three days. Signing documents, like a little obedient angel, otherwise..."

A waiter appears, preventing Pepper to finish the threat. Tony's grateful. Pepper can carry on with some lectures about working ethics and eccentric billionaires and their responsibilities, but as their order is served the conversation becomes derailed, first about food (seriously, that's like the most popular topic among high-class people, despite being boring as hell), then about cars (because Happy is really fond of that new model, did Tony see? Of course Tony did see) and his trip to Europe, then crocheting (believe it or not, all three of them can crochet really well, though Tony rarely finds the patience in himself to actually do it), and horse-riding (since that's Pepper favourite hobby and first-to-go relaxation technique).

They do not talk about weapons, neither SI business - Tony makes sure of that -, not until the end of their dinner.

As they finish their coffee, Pepper reluctantly admits "They were excited about the Jericho, by the way."

Tony smiles triumphantly. The taste of victory doesn't last long, though.

“Mr. Stane stopped me from visiting you in the New York mansion,” she starts and Tony blinks stupidly - wait, what? He has to thank Obie later for guarding his peace, but why exactly 'Mr. Stane' did that? “but either you come to the office tomorrow, or I'll ignore his wish and personally drag you there, preferably by your ear like a misbehaving child. You have work to do, Tony.”

"Fine," Tony sighs as they step out to the street. He ignores the stares directed at him and pushes his sunglasses to his nose. "Make me a schedule, but no more than 2, maximum 3 hours per day outside of the house, Pepper, I'm serious, I'm working on something, I need my peace. Okay?"

They stare at each other for long, long seconds, Happy awkwardly standing in the background, but in the end Pepper nods. "All right. Three hours in the office plus the same amount of time working from home, and I'm game."

Tony kisses her forehead. "You are the best, Pep."

Of course that's the moment the paparazzi manage to catch on high-resolution, so they don't have to worry about tomorrow's headline of the gossip magazines. Tony's just grateful that the restaurant is strictly press-free area, so at least they had a good dinner without disturbance. In Tony's life that can be counted as a win.

Still, he's pretty sure Pepper will serve some so-called journalist's head on a silver plate in the next few days.

"Oh, and Pepper," he calls after her, already on the driver's seat of the Acura. "Do you know who cleans my office?"

"Of course I know," she frowns. "Why? Is something missing? They have the best reputation in all New York City, I don't believe they'd do anything..."

"Nah, nothing like that, it's just... I'll thank them for their outstanding services. Send me their number" he orders, then drives off, enjoying yet another race with Happy.

***

James is furious, Tony is quite sure, though the situation is way better than he expected it to be. He's not pinned to the wall by throwing knives or other shitty ninja tricks. Scary Guy is far more cruel than that: he glares.

And okay, Tony has seen some serious shit in his life. He has been negotiating with the most cold-hearted businessmen, he spent days in illegal weapon auctions, he is blessed to work with some crazy genius scientists, and of course he has (or had) amazing women in his life like his mother or Pepper. But standing in front of James who just looks him dead in the eye?

Tony's pretty sure his whole life is flashing in front of his eyes as he's getting ready to die on the spot - yet Kidnapper doesn't move a finger, doesn't even jitter. Just... stares.

Tony slowly backs away, and though James's eyes follow him, he doesn't move - not until Tony reaches the door. Then James does, and he moves so fast that Tony isn’t able to track it, and James stands in the doorway, metal arm raised, blocking the way. "No," he states simply but sternly.

Tony can't suppress a squeak. "What no?"

"You'll stay under supervision."

"You said I can leave."

"After you're able to defend yourself."

Technically that's true, but no one can ever say Tony's not ready for an argument. "I'll never reach your level of badassness, you know that, right? If you plan to get me under house arrest until that, then I'll never get permission to leave."

James looks away sharply, and Tony's suddenly sure that he's conflicted, that he doesn't know what to answer. Though he has no idea how can he be so sure of that. But he's willing to push his luck.

Or die. That is still a possibility, to be fair, but Tony was never the best in that whole self-preservation thing.

"You praised me last time. Twice! I'm sure of that. Maybe the third was a compliment too. So..."

James crosses his arms in front of himself.

"Do you really wanna lock me up again, James?" Tony asks, stumbling back, his heartbeat skyrocketing, and the question makes Kidnapper freeze in his place.

Tony didn't want to cause harm, but somehow Kidnapper's whole face crumbles before his eyes despite the mask and there's too much white of his eyes visible and Tony's not sure he can stand this.

He has to do something. He's an engineer, he's the Mechanic, he solves problems, he fixes things, and somehow he's the one who fucked up here. Even if he was right to leave, even if he had every right to do so, he still hurt someone who became important to him along the way. He's not sorry for his actions and would do the same over. But he's sorry about James. He's sorry that he can't really predict the effect of his actions on James, despite the constant calculations in his head. He's sorry that James is hurt and messed up and Tony isn't really capable of helping him with that. He can only make the physical pain go away by improving the metal arm. He can make sure that they're secure and not in danger by giving him shelter in his home. But mental pain and emotional health are totally different questions and as much as Tony wants to help Kidnapper, it's so far from his expertise like it’s on a fucking different continent.

He has to do something. Even if he fucks up. Tony can bear fuck ups. He can work with the experience to improve things. A failure is never a complete failure, not for an engineer. Mistakes can be corrected and bugs fixed and it's all part of the process. What he can't stand is a standstill. Passivity. Not doing anything. A useless attempt is so much better than nothing.

Tony wants to do something, he wants to help, to improve, to fix things, he wants this strange, wounded, scattered man to heal, to be whole again.

He knows it's complete madness. He doesn't care. It still makes more sense than letting someone be hurt and doing nothing about it.

He steps closer, and James keeps still, metal hand resting - no, clutching - on the doorframe. And somehow, in that moment, Tony's sure he won't be able to let James stay like this, alien in his own body, transit in his own identity.

"Listen, Top Gun" Tony uses the nickname, and then he abruptly thinks, fuck this shit he has a name now. "James." The hesitation probably was not without a reason, because the man flinches, just a bit.

"James," Tony repeats, kindly, with a sad smile, and takes the next step, then the one after that, until he is standing in front of James, close as ever, and looks up to him.

James's eyes are... terrified.

Tony is not afraid of him. Not right now, and maybe not anymore. How could he? James means no harm to others either, he's just pursued, hurt, conflicted, he wants to be left alone and safe. Tony can understand those wishes. Tony wants to grant him those.

"I'm gonna take this mask off," he announces, slowly, quietly.

James does not bolt and does not run: he stays in his place, unmoving, only his fists clench and unclench rapidly and his eyes scan the room in near panic.

"You said one shouldn't show their face to the kidnapped person so they can't give a description. It's not an issue anymore. I won't give you away, I won't betray you. You can trust me, and I trust you," Tony states in his most calm, most level voice, the one he uses to persuade reluctant investors and cheer up moody kids, while his hands work deliberately, finding the clasp of the mask.

It's a painfully slow process. Tony first thought it will be only one buckle, but turns out there are three, and he has to undo each of them. He feels his stomach in his throat, his pulse in his ears; he's ready for James stopping him any minute, because this is just crazy. Tony's hands shake a bit, just a tiny little bit, and he's afraid he'll ruin everything with a stupid mistake, like pulling James's hair or something. His mind races on its own accord and he can't stop it.

But James doesn't move. He doesn't even seem to breathe.

Tony wishes to know what's in the guy's head, and at the same time he wishes to never know it. Tony can have pretty educated guesses. James wants this to happen, otherwise he'd stop it. James wants to trust Tony, James wants to accept the things Tony can offer. He just... for some reason he can't take the first steps.

But Tony is willing to take them and only hopes while doing so he's not rushing things too much, that he's not putting too much pressure on James. After all, it was just yesterday that he was able to say his name, whether it's really his since birth or a chosen one.

The last strap is twisted, and Tony works as gently as he could while unravels it from the hair. There’s a sharp move of James’s hand, which leaves markings on the doorframe, but he stops himself before any more could happen and then he’s standing still again.

And finally, the mask comes off, and for the first time Tony sees the face of his Sad Eyed Kidnapper.

It's shocking, like seeing someone without glasses after a lifetime of wearing them. Tony kind of pictured James in his head, somehow, and the image doesn't really match the reality.

For starter, he's way more handsome than Tony ever imagined, in the twisted way of tormented beauty: at first it's almost painful to watch. The brain needs a moment or two to adjust, like focusing with camera lenses, and then it starts to actually process the sight.

Tony always thought there will be some scars, because James's torso holds so much of the markings of past injuries, but his face is clear. Like whoever made the arm and the wounds and everything with his body made sure to never touch his face, never ruin its beauty and symmetry.

Instead of scars, there are shades. First, the stubble - or almost-beard, the guy probably didn't shave very often since their time spent together. Second, the bags under his eyes, clear signs of not enough rest - as far as Tony remembers, even he sleeps more than Kidnapper, which is both worrying and impressive. And third... there is something intangible. Maybe it is just Tony's mind playing tricks, but like there is a... tulle of shadow, or maybe just the reflection of, something almost ethereal. Maybe because he's so pale. (Jesus, when was the last time this skin was touched by the sun? Never ever?) Or is it in James's look? The impact of those tormented eyes on the features? Tony's not sure, he can't tell, he just... he just has this impression and can't help it.

The more he looks, the more he finds it familiar. He's pretty sure he never met Kidnapper before - if anything, James's not social person. And that's the understatement of the century. Yet Tony feels his features being well-known to him. It clearly comes from the fact that they spent a whole month in close proximity, albeit emotionally distant for most of it.

It takes at least a minute until Tony realizes that he observes to poor guy and James doesn't look back directly, he stares somewhere to his neck, not lifting his gaze for once.

"Wow," Tony stammers out. "Nice bristles. When did you shave last?"

He wants to punch himself in the mouth because James winces, and for moment there's pure panic in his features. Then he jerks his head, and their eyes meet, and the guy finally, finally relaxes a bit.

"Are you... not...?" James seems lost, unable to finish the question, and his voice is so different without the muzzle muffling it, Tony's heart aches.

"Not what? Afraid? Why would I be? You are less terrifying without the mask then with it. Actually, you are kind of handsome, and I definitely didn't want to say that out loud, just ignore me, you are a champion of that."

And Tony's heart sings with triumph because to his words, the edges Kidnapper's mouth curves upward, the promise of a future smile.

He can't help it. He smiles back.

***

James keeps his distance the next day, but they actually do two training sessions. At the end of the day Tony wants to die and he practically faints into his bed.

The fact that James wore his mask again doesn't help his mood either.

***

The next time Tony leaves, he approaches James beforehand. "I have to work in the office. My driver slash bodyguard - he's a great guy but I won't force you two to meet - will arrive in five minutes, and he will stand behind my back the whole time I'm away. All right?"

James stares at him long and hard. "I could kill him before he blinks an eye."

Tony waves his hand. "You could kill any man before they blink an eye. James, don't be a dick."

"How long will you be away?"

Tony raises his fist in the air triumphantly.

***

"Seriously, can you imagine more boring people than board members? Sometimes I wanna stab them with a pen just to have a little fun!" Tony complains while he shows James how to insert a little new cable management into the arm.

James probably can't imagine because he doesn't say anything, but that little half-smile appears on his face more often.

***

It takes three weeks to make the Jericho prototypes. Seriously?! In the 21st century? Such a shame.

Tony spends a day with Rhodey, then deliberately skips the award ceremony he should have attended afterward. Rhodey is not surprised and doesn't sound disappointed either later on the phone. (“Actually I'm surprised I didn't find you in a casino or something. You sick? Missing out an opportunity to hang out in Vegas?" he asks during the chit-chat.)

Obadiah sounds both.

But Tony's main concern is not his stepfather.

"I'll be back in two days," Tony tries to reassure James. "I'm not a prisoner anymore," he reminds James. "I will be fine, I'll be with the military the whole time."

"They’re useless. I should go with you."

"That is the worst idea I've heard in a long time and believe me, I had to endure some R&D sessions lately. C'mon, James, it's gonna be fine. Easy-peasy."

"You still don't know who wanted to abduct you when we met." When we met - that's the euphemism they use because Tony didn't want to hear again that he was saved. He has dignity, after all.

(He called the cleaning service. They said there was nothing unusual in his office after that particular date and they had no idea why he pushed the matter. They looked at each other with James after the fruitless effort, Tony with a shellshocked face while James stayed unreadable, but his eyes gave away his confusion as always.)

"Rhodey will take care of me."

At some point, James started to actually respect Rhodey's ability to keep Tony in line. He's still not comfortable with the situation by a mere mention of a name, but he doesn't stop Tony.

So in the next morning Tony's plane takes off to fly his owner to Afghanistan, selling some advanced weaponry.

Chapter 7: Winter James

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

The surprising thing is that James is bothered. He is bothered very, very much by the absence.

He has no idea when he got so used to Tony's presence that the lack of it feels like it drives him crazy. He should be glad he's away. He should enjoy the silence and the time alone. Maybe he should be worried about the Mechanic's loyalty, about the easy chance to betray him.

He feels none of that.

He's agitated and restless. He catches himself staring at the closed doors of the workshop or the motionless gym equipment and thinking about the owner of them. He closes his eyes and sees the fiddling fingers of a creator, always working on something. He's worried, but his concerns are centered around the possibility of Stark being away not because he could turn against James while distance protects him, or because there's no one to do the maintenances, but because his self-defense training is still so incomplete it makes James's head hurt.

That stupid Mechanic went to an active war zone without much backup. Sure, there is James Rhodes. And the whole US Army. There are troops and vehicles and the weaponry Stark designed himself for them.

But.

James is not there.

The Asset would be better at personal protection detail than the US Army. And as opposed to the US Army, the Asset knows that threat is very much imminent. Whoever tried to take hold of Stark a few months ago is still out there, and if someone put enough effort and resource into the kidnapping that still no one suspects anything about then that person or organization will try to strike again. Sooner or later.

The Mechanic is well-protected at his home, even without the supervision of the Winter Soldier. The system named Jarvis makes sure of that. He is watched over by this Harold Hogan all the time when he's out now, which makes hard to get near him unnoticed in Stark Industries. The Asset knows best that the Mechanic is not an easy Target.

At least not one while he's in New York. Not while he’s on home ground.

Afghanistan is a completely different case. That's the perfect location for an ambush, abduction, assassination or other violent attempts.

So the Asset is worried, and this discovery makes him angry and on edge.

These emotions are not for the Winter Soldier to feel. It should be unmoved and unaffected by its ambiance. It should only focus on its mission, whatever it is at the moment. The Mechanic is an important tool for its functionality, but should not be the main concern of the Asset. The Mechanic is not a mission objective.

Yet somehow he is.

James has no idea when and how this happened, but Anthony Edward Stark became the main mission of the Winter Soldier, and the objective is not to kill but to protect.

And that is still not the whole picture. The Asset would make sure to fulfill its mission unaffected by any feelings, just for the sake of success, because the Asset only exists to fulfill the missions and has no other reason to be beyond that. Feelings are not allowed because they are unnecessary and they compromise effectiveness.

James wants to be that Asset again. Wants to be unmoveable, wants to stay focused no matter the circumstances, wants to be calm and collected all the time. He can't. He can't shake off the emotions anymore.

He wants to scream in rage. He wants to be near the Mechanic at all times. He wants to lock him up for his own sake and at the same time, he never wants to do anything that hurts him, including locking him up.

James can't fool himself anymore; it's not the arm's malfunction that causes these weird and loathsome changes. The source must be his malfunctioning mind that fills his thoughts with unwanted and confusing pictures, faces that are so familiar yet unknown to him, voices that make him shiver but which he never possibly heard, smells and sounds and textures that can't be more than an overworking imagination's products.

How could that warm, sunny feeling that fills him when he thinks of a young blond boy embraced by light even exist? How could he taste the morning coffee on his tongue when he never had the need for caffeine to be awake? How could he miss the light touch on his left arm's skin if he never had a flesh and bone left arm to start with?

Except he's not sure anymore if he didn't have one. These pictures are faded and blurry like they're under a layer of boiling water, under blankets of pain and regret, yet they feel so true that it's hard to actually question their credibility.

And really, that constant, crushing headache just makes everything even more real.

***

The first night alone in the mansion makes James itch in his very core, unable to stay still. The sudden storm that covers the city doesn't help either. He gets up from the floor - the bed is too soft to sleep on it, he's not used to such levels of comfort - and starts pacing, walking from wall to wall and barely resisting the urge to mutter curses under his breath. Tony is on the other side of the planet. He probably has a nice sunny day - more than nice, considering the latitude of his current location. So his day is probably a hot sunny one right now.

James remembers days in deserts, patiently waiting for a target to show up, he remembers the lack of movement as he didn't allow his focus to drop, not even when his strike team acted like petulant children instead of the heavily armed professional soldiers they were. He remembers the texture of his tactical gear, the sweat on his skin under it, the familiar touch of the mask in front of his mouth that somehow made it easier to breathe the hot air in. He remembers the momentary satisfaction of a shot well aimed, and the disbelieving cheers of the soldiers praising the impossible shot.

He doesn't remember the motion as he pulled the trigger, just the aftermath of the action. The pride of it, and the relief that he won't be punished, at least not hard.

A loud roar of thunder tears him out of the memories and James shivers. Inside his head, electric sparks lit up and die away with lingering pain.

"James, if I may suggest," Jarvis's voice comes through the hidden speakers.

(The Soldier actually searched for them on his first night and dismounted them as well as the cameras, but Stark showed up the next day with repairing tools and installed them back. They played this four more times before James let it go and didn't touch the surveillance since then.)

Now he just stops on his track and stays very, very still while he waits for the upcoming words, unable to predict them. Part of him still waits for punishment, another part for instructions - no, he does not wait for them, more like he wants them, he craves them, he needs them - but he shuts this urge down effectively. He's his own handler now, does not need any other instructions than what he gives to himself.

Jarvis waits. James has no idea if the system knows about his internal struggle or is just programmed to not continue talking until he gets some response.

He peers up to one of the hidden cameras. "I'm listening," he swallows hard as he finishes. Speaking to Jarvis is still hard, especially when he's not wearing his mask.

"If you find the weather disturbing, I suggest visiting Sir's workshop. That part of the house is completely soundproofed, and Sir finds his peace there more often than not."

James stands in stunned silence for a few moments. This... this is a lot. He never imagined to have access like this - there are always parts of bases that he can't go in, secured areas for secrecy and private quarters for commanding officers, and he always assumed the workshop as Stark's private place.

"Am I allowed there even without Stark?" he asks to be sure. Getting exact permission is not a foolproof guarantee, but it reduces the chances of punishment.

"You are enjoying a great amount of trust from Sir, and he would allow you down there even when he himself isn’t currently present."

James is not very good at detecting emotions from voice tones. He's better at decrypting body language, maybe because he's good with using and controlling the body he uses but not good at all with his voice, but even he can hear the disapproving tone of the AI.

"You don't agree with Stark." It's not a question, but Jarvis answers anyway.

"Sir is my main concern, and I exist to protect him. It's my job to be warier than him."

"But still you wouldn't stop me." There's a brief pause before the Soldier admits, "I don't understand you."

"I must confess, this is mutual," but Jarvis switches on some lights in the corridor towards the workshop anyway. James doesn't suppress his smile. "I'm merely trying to do the things I consider best for my Sir, based on calculations, accessible databases and my knowledge of him."

Instead of going there, James sits down on the bed and the mattress sinks down under his weight uncomfortably. "I'm hardly the best for anyone, Jarvis, let alone for Stark." As he says it out loud he actually realizes that his statement might have been true once, but he... has doubts, now. He didn't care about the Mechanic earlier. He was just a Target, a Mark to obtain. But he's more than that now. James is not sure yet what this 'more' means precisely, but the implications of this realization are huge.

Overwhelming, really.

Jarvis hums carefully and waits for James to gather himself.

"Maybe not," the speakers sound again finally. "But Sir cares about you, and therefore I should care about you too, whether I think it wise or not." There's a little pause again, clearly for James, because a system as fast and complicated as Jarvis could run calculations faster than any human mind can process. "And, according to my experience, the mental and emotional aspects of well-being are not necessarily consistent with logical assumptions. Mr. Stark believes you to be a good man, James, and though I'm not sharing his sentiment, I'm open to the contrary to be proven. Plus I'm a hundred percent sure that Sir's physical wellbeing is highly rated on your priority list even if your reasons might be selfish."

James doesn't know what to answer to that. He doesn't even know what to feel or think. It's just... too much. He's not ready to face it.

He stands up abruptly and starts to walk toward the workshop. At one point that place became comforting to him as well, maybe just because it was so for Stark too.

"How long have you been serving under the Mechanic, Jarvis?" he asks as he walks because the silence suddenly seems crushing. If Tony would be here, he'd fill it with babbling and chatter and James misses him even more because of this thought.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that question in this form."

"Why's that?"

"You should phrase your questions correctly, Soldier."

James's steps falter and his shoulders tense on the addressing, and he jerks his head up in search of the nearest camera. Then he realizes with a little delay that it wasn't an insult or a coded message - at least not in the traditional meaning of code -, it might have been Jarvis's attempt to tease him, just like he plays with his master.

He exhales slowly. "Am I allowed to ask you not call me that again?"

"Most certainly, James. I'm sorry if I overstepped your boundaries."

Somehow James doesn’t sound better anymore, but he has no other option than to swallow his discomfort. There is no name he's comfortable with. He's not the Soldier and not the Asset anymore, but yet he rarely feels like James either.

Because James is... that name belongs...

He shuts that thought down. He'll deal with that sometimes, but tonight is definitely not the right moment for that.

Still.

The name - that threatening full form of it and the nickname coming from it as well - is slinking on the border of his consciousness.

"So how long?" he asks quickly to distract himself.

"The answer depends on how you define me and the starting point of my existence, James," Jarvis then takes pity on him, and with a rather amused tone, it adds. "I started to be just a voice interface project, but as a system able to learn and grow I’ve been functioning for more than a decade now." James senses something dangerous in the voice now, and he has to take a moment to realize these words could be interpreted as a threat as well. A decade of learning from an intelligent computer system is a lot - it means that Jarvis can be very powerful either as an ally or as an enemy.

James is kind of glad he's not an enemy right now. He doesn't plan to ever become one.

Jarvis opens the door and James steps into the workshop. The bots greet him rather enthusiastically. He’s not against that anymore, instead he pats the one named DUM-E on the claws and gives a weak smile to the one named Butterfingers since that has the most advanced sensors and most likely to perceive it.

James has the feeling that Jarvis would have stopped them from coming near him if it would’ve thought it to be dangerous. Of course, Jarvis would’ve stopped him from entering the workshop if it’d think to be dangerous, too.

That must mean that Jarvis trusts him at least a little bit. Or that he got exact instructions from the Mechanic. James sits down next to DUM-E and continues to pat it lightly. The bots being here adds to the charm of the workplace – James does not consider them being useful. They are clumsy and can be very distracting and their advantages not worth the trouble they make in his opinion. But despite all of this, somehow he likes them. They are not malevolent but diligent and when James is in doubt concerning reality, they can anchor him to the present. Because no way in hell would Hydra let anything like these into their ranks and laboratories. The bots are a proof that he’s not there anymore. James strokes U’s pillar’s wrap lightly with his metal arm, listening to the sound the contact makes.

“Jarvis, are you able to contradict a direct order?”

There’s a long pause, so long that James’s sure he won’t get an answer.

“Why are you asking this, James?”

“Just out of curiosity," he lies. Or partly lies. Should he be able to experience curiosity at all? Wasn’t that forbidden as well as the emotions? He’s not sure.

“My coding makes me capable of overwriting direct orders if that’s absolutely necessary. However I’d not utilize this opportunity as long as I’m able to avoid it.”

“So… you’d be able to override the order of letting me in if you’d think it’d serve the Mechanic better?”

“I would," Jarvis agreed. “But I didn’t get orders to let you in here. I offered you because I assumed it would help you find your peace.”

James is still trying to figure out what this implies on his part when all three of the bots shake their heads (or the parts that equal to heads), and all the lights fade into a dim half-light. The man immediately stands up, ready to bolt, and already eyeing the tools nearby and categorizing them as weapons.

He slips into battle mode without even realizing it. Doesn’t ask questions yet, opts to listen and examine instead, but nothing happens. No threats arrive, no sign of unauthorized personnel nearby. The bots move around him like they’re glancing at each other worriedly.

The Soldier’s breaths are even and he doesn’t make any sounds as he draws back into the thickened shadows and starts to move toward the door cautiously. Whatever threat might arrive, it has to come through the entrance, and the Asset will be ready to greet them properly…

“My apologies, James," Jarvis announces unexpectedly, and the Soldier blinks once, then twice. It needs a few moments to process that the words are aimed at him. It looks upward, as a wordless question, and the AI continues. “You are safe and there is no threat here in the mansion currently.”

It’s tempting to stay mute, but the Asset decides against it. Getting information is more important. “Where is the threat currently?”

“I’m afraid I lost all connection to Sir and his convoy. By all means the only reason this could’ve happened is that every electronic equipment in their possession must have been destroyed.”

James’s pretty sure his heart stops and skips a few beats.

***

James is not proud of the fact that he needed several minutes just to be able to breathe regularly, neither that all through this time his thoughts ran amok in his head and he was sure he’d go mad if he’d not calm the fuck down soon. He didn't even notice when the bots - probably because of System's mute instructions - left him and went into standby mode at a corner of the workshop.

Luckily he managed to partially slip back into the previous mindset.

He’s not in fully Winter Soldier mode, he can tell that. He’s aware of himself, of being James. He wants to protect the Mechanic, but at the same time, he wants to make sure Stark – Tony? – is all right and safe. He’s sure he has the same malfunctions as earlier, but he’s willing to put them aside for the sake of the mission. He might be damaged, but he’s still the Asset and It is still functional and the Asset would never let anyone else touch its Mechanic.

It walks back toward the panel on the wall that functions as a screen for Jarvis as well.

“Report," It states simply. “Give me the details and the location.”

Jarvis hesitates. “I’m not sure that would be wise of me, giving that…”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, System. Give. Me. The. Intel.”

“James, may I ask you to wait at least until the official announcement of the events?”

“Do you want to waste your master’s time while he’s in danger?”

This mutes Jarvis for a good three seconds. Enough for the Soldier to start walking toward the door. “I’m preparing myself, and the moment I get back I expect your report.”

The Asset leaves without making any noise. He’s quick and effective. Combat boots. Tac gear. Face mask. Weapons.

A lot of weapons. It starts with knives, hidden everywhere in the clothes and in the holsters. Then the guns, all types and brands for the different needs. Then the bigger calibers. Submachine guns. Rifle. Shotgun. Machine gun. Grenade launcher. Hand grenades. An assassin should be prepared for every occasion. Cash, enough for a long-term undercover mission if needed: dollars, pounds, euros. Spy devices: for fooling metal detectors, for camouflaging itself or the metal arm, for picking locks, for hacking electronic devices. What can’t be fitted on itself is stashed in a duffel bag.

When he stomps down to the workshop, he has enough ammunition for overrunning a smaller country.

Jarvis shows the news channel without further questions, where they talk about the missing of Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist, whose convoy had been attacked in Afghanistan. No terrorist organization undertook the responsibility for the outrage yet, and the Army’s official report is very brief…

The Soldier watches with growing anger on his face. James roars under the surface even more. The Asset is insulted because they dared to touch its Mark, its Mechanic. James is out of his mind because it’s Stark, it’s the man who trusted him and helped him and took him in his home. A wrench bends in their hand as they quietly listen to everything the announcer on the screen can provide them, then Jarvis switches to another news channel, where they say practically the same. Nothing to know for sure yet, not even the causalities, but Tony Stark (or his body) has not been found yet.

The Soldier is on the edge of turning the television off when it shuts down without his assistance, and Jarvis’s warning is coming through the speakers. “Miss Potts is here.”

He jumps to his feet, and barely suppresses a curse in Russian. “Where?" he barks out instead.

“She’s on her way to the workshop," the system reports calmly.

The Asset picks up his bag and bolts toward the door, but he hears the sound of high heels on tiles, so he turns left instead, to hide among the shadows. The workshop is really a good place for not showing himself, full of shapes and shades, and the glint of chrome surfaces can confuse anyone who might get a sight of the metal arm from the corner of their eyes. Not that it could be an issue right now since the Soldier is fully dressed and combat-ready, but still. He managed to jump into the center of the semi-circle the three bots form, who are on emergency shutdown protocol commanded by Jarvis, otherwise might betray his sudden presence.

Pepper Potts doesn’t pay any attention to her surroundings, though. Her gaze quickly takes in the seemingly abandoned workshop, then she marches directly toward the spot James just left. This is the first time the Soldier sees her this close and personal.

“Jarvis," she speaks up. She looks… effective, the Soldier thinks, even given the circumstances. She’s wearing something that looks like a pajama shirt and a business skirt, combined with deadly high heels. She’s disheveled and probably just out of bed, but she’s fierce and ready to business at the same time.

“Have you heard it, Jarvis?” Her tone is none the less demanding than the one the Asset used just minutes ago.

Instead of answering, Jarvis shows the news again. The Soldier continues to observe the woman. Tony talked a lot about her at the last couple of weeks, and always with a tone of admiration and awe. James wants to see the reason for it, and he thinks he partially gets it.

Pepper Potts is a woman who doesn’t kid around and it shows from her posture, from her moves, her very being radiates that kind of authority that makes the Asset wants to kneel down to obey and to crawl away in fear simultaneously. It does neither. It stays in place.

Pepper Potts sighs. “I’ve just talked to Rhodey," he informs the AI. “It’s… not good news. You might have to miss Tony for… for a couple of days.” Her voice cracks a little bit, but she steels herself again. “Will you be okay with Dummy and the others? I know Tony never travels without them longer than two days.”

“I appreciate your concern, Miss Potts.” Jarvis’s voice is almost gentle and kind, yet it is avoiding the direct answer to the question, which actually speaks for itself. “You should focus on yourself. What did Mr. Rhodes say?”

The Soldier thinks Jarvis asked it for the sake of informing him, but after the indirect confession of worry, he can’t be completely sure. Maybe the robot simply wants back its creator, like the Asset sometimes wishes to have a handler back.

“Tony’s missing. They… don’t know what happened.” She sits down ungracefully, not even looking for a chair, just sinks to the floor. She lowers her head to her palms. “At first everything was all right and then everything blew up and… There were fourteen soldiers assigned to chaperone him, and only three of them made out alive. Rhodey’s injured, too. He’s at the field hospital, coordinating the search parties from bed.”

“The news stated no terrorist organization…”

“Not yet.” Potts looks up. “But none of them should have known where to attack. I threatened some generals…” The Asset’s eyes widen hearing about such a disrespectful attitude and he’s confused how the woman is still alive. “…and to me, it seems they’re not as concerned about a missing industrialist as they are about how someone heard of the route they took. I don’t know, Jarvis, it’s a mess but we would know already if… so… he’ll be all right. Rhodey will find him, right?” She starts to sob, quietly, not making a show about it, just allowing herself to fall apart for a moment.

Something in James tells him to walk up to Potts and comfort her. It’s nearly as instinctual as his fight reflexes, yet way, waaay more confusing. It’s nothing to do with the Soldier, it’s something… other. Bright blue eyes flash in front of his vision and the owner’s toothy grin and a clasp on shoulder and a faint reminder to treat her right, Bucky, you both deserve it.

He shakes his head, doesn’t need the Soldier to shove the thoughts away. No need for awful headaches and disturbing images. He can’t let distractions like this interfere with the mission. Because he has a mission and it is to save the Mechanic. Jarvis is a useful mission assist since it gets information out of Potts (while simultaneously comforts her).

System is terrifyingly effective if it wants to be.

Within minutes, Jarvis and therefore the Asset knows every little detail Potts managed to gather from Rhodes, and half an hour later the AI reassured and calmed the woman down - or, more accurately, she calmed herself down and just needed some time and company for it to happen -, and guided her to a guest room to have a rest. She didn’t want to leave at first, but let herself be convinced, for which James is grateful.

After she is nowhere to be seen, he steps out of the shadows, ready to go.

“Are you sure you need all that heavy weaponry, James?”

He barks a laugh, sharp and twisted like he feels. “Didn’t you pay attention? No dead body found, therefore someone took the Mechanic as prisoner.” There is no ransom demand yet, so it is not a hostage situation. It is… The Soldier is not sure yet what it was exactly. But he's determined to find out.

Jarvis hums.

“On second thoughts, be safe and have a nice journey. I’ll take care of the bots. I hope you’ll bring Sir home soon.”

“I’m gonna do exactly that, Jarvis.”

James turns away and walks toward the door to leave, but stops next to the bots. He watches them carefully for a long moment than glances up. “You put them to sleep. When will they wake up?” System doesn’t answer, and the Soldier feels a sudden nausea. “You should wake them up," he says quietly. “Long sleeps are not good when you’re waking up from them.” He’s not sure why is he telling this, and the confusion makes him startle and the next moment he bolts towards the door.

“James!” Jarvis calls urgently as he’s almost there, and it makes him stop because Jarvis is hardly ever excited, but now it sounds like it is. “Take a phone with you from the top drawer, so you’ll be able to contact me.”

”I don’t need supervision," he grumbles.

“I didn’t mean like supervision, I’ve meant as the clarification and demand of my assistance on your search.”

James does allow himself a swear now, but time is pressure for them too. He marches to said drawer and picks up the first phone he can grab. “Don’t interfere unless I contact you, System," he says over his shoulder.

***

This is probably the most complicated mission the Asset ever had, mostly because of the lack of backup. Usually It only had to deal with the kill: It was sent to the right place or was instructed to set up a scene, and after that, all It had to do was to reach the extraction point and wait for return or more instructions. Hydra had all the agents and resources for the background work, and if the Asset had to face a more complicated case It was never working alone. There was always a STRIKE team or a pretty little spy or a handler to accompany It.

The Soldier can’t rely on any of this now. Luckily It has the skillset to do what has to be done all by himself, It was just wasn’t allowed to use its full potential earlier.

Still it’s a painfully slow and often fruitless work.

Traveling is complicated, and needs all kind of planning and preparation and still it’s not near as effective as a quinjet would be. But stealing aircraft would draw unwanted attention so It doesn’t use drastic measures like that yet.

Finding targets is complicated.

The interrogation techniques are useful. After some loss of fingers and such unlucky events, or after the victims realize their jailer is the infamous Winter Soldier they are oh so happy to spill their guts. Usually the only problem is they don’t have much to say.

He starts with the bigger organizations - the Taliban, the Hizb I Islami and such -, but he has no luck with them.

So he switches to focus on the newer ones. The Haqquani Networks. The Ten Rings.

It takes time, effort and discipline.

***

On quiet evenings while he waits for an opportunity or for the next target to show up, James has a chance to think. Doing a mission is at least half of the time autopilot: it’s the Asset, a bit different mindset than his own. Only now that he has both the time and the close experience to observe it James realizes how much and how deep these differences are.

The Asset is a better fighter and a better agent. Objectively, James has to admit it, as much as it hurts his pride. But it’s okay: the Soldier was always the best of bests and probably ever will be, and that’s probably how things should be. Still there are things James better at: the creativity he has is completely missing from the Asset, and decision-making is easier for him than for the Soldier, for example. And, more importantly, James is better at malfunctioning.

It feels more and more natural to him with each day. The Soldier, though, can hardly function after serious glitches.

***

James remembers his days spent with the Mechanic.

He remembers the training. The way the close proximity sometimes made his blood boil and his focus snap from effectiveness to Tony’s wet hair on his nape, to the little twitch of his fingers while he thought about fighting strategies, to the way his chest heaved. He thinks about the warm feeling inside his chest every time Stark used a new move successfully. (It’s called pride, he realizes belatedly after living it through several times in memory.)

He remembers other things, too, but he tries his best not to.

The mere fact, remembering, is kind of fascinating. James knows in in an abstract and theoretical way, that the Chair that had eaten away his memories was bad, but only now he realizes how much memories can mean to someone. (To a person?!) How great difference they make. At the same time, he has to admit how dangerous the act of remembering is. The Asset could not function with memories. It can’t deal with them - and to be honest, James has his own difficulties, too. He still shoves away the memories with the golden-haired, blue-eyed boy, and there must have been times when this boy meant the world because sometimes every fucking memory is orbiting around him. The feelings they cause is way too much for James, too, so he avoids them as much as he can. He focuses instead on his memories of the Mechanic, the time they shared, and somehow these memories become a source of strength he was not familiar with before. Or, more accurately, the Asset was not familiar with.

James has too much time to think.

He remembers the time he told his name to Stark. The confusion. The steady urge. The struggle. The name was lurking just under the surface of his mind for weeks, and encouraged by the question it finally showed itself. The sudden panic of the realization, and the fact that the Mechanic’s presence soothed that panic away so effectively. The alien feeling of the name on his tongue. The threat of having a name in the first place. All of this in one unsettling mess, ready to blow up, and yet somehow managed to keep more or less hidden and under control until he was alone in his cell. (No - his room.)

He didn’t need audience for his breakdown because his grip on his mind slipped and suddenly all he was able to hear was hundreds of thousands of yelling, telling, whispering, demanding and arguing, all Bucky, Bucky, Bucky said all over and over in endless different iteration, overlapped with some James and Buchanan and Barnes. It took him hours to calm down after that, to lock up the voice that called Bucky again and again.

James was not ideal, but he liked it. He liked the way it sounded, and the connection he felt to it because it was not as overwhelming as that other name. Buchanan was not enough, and Barnes was too much as well, but James was just the right amount of familiarity mixed with a reassuring distance.

He still likes it, even when he is in the Asset’s mindset, even when the Soldier calls it Yasha and thinks of a dance hall and a flow of music and red hair swirling through the air to it.

James often finds it fascinating that he remembers so much of the past months. Practically everything since he left Hydra. Other times it’s more distracting or irritating.

Remembering that time when the Mechanic took his mask off… is among the most disturbing memories he actually allows himself to remember.

When Tony announced his intention, he was so shocked and afraid he was unable to move. Or more accurately: he was unable to move without violence. He wanted it to happen and at the same time dreaded it to happen and the programming screamed in his head but memories shouted as well and it was just so chaotic. He wanted to trust Stark. He wanted to believe him when he said he’s not a threat, he’s trustworthy and can be relied on.

He wouldn’t be able to do it by himself. Removing the mask was against every protocol, and usually anyone but the handlers seeing his face meant that person had to be executed. The Winter Soldier’s face must have remained a mystery, as his very being had to be nothing more than a scary bedtime story for adults. But he didn’t want it to be like that anymore, so he didn’t move. That was the best he could offer to Tony: to remain motionless and let it happen to him and not reacting violently to anything during or after it.

Fighting his programming made him so tired he slept eight hours in a row after it.

He had to wear the mask again from time to time, but on average he made around every second day without it: less at the beginning, more and more as time went by.

He probably should not have been proud of that progression, but somehow he was.

***

On week three, he calls System. Jarvis answers immediately.

Hearing the modulated voice makes him relax a bit. (It’s strange.)

The Asset reports him. James talks to him. They talk about people: System tells Miss Potts is not well, but she's keeping herself up by making herself busy and pulls all kind of threads she can imagine to speed up the search for Sir, though no actual results came from it yet.

System tells about Rhodes and his ongoing recovery of the injury and the military's rescue efforts.

System, reluctantly, tells It misses the bots but the inactive mode is better for them since they can't help finding the Mechanic. (Jarvis actually uses the term Mechanic, and pride swells James's chest again in an irrational rush.)

But System also has valuable mission input every time. The Soldier continues the search.

***

It takes almost two months to confirm that the Ten Rings is responsible for Tony Stark’s abduction and another two weeks until the Asset finds the organization’s current main location and to investigate it.

But patience paid itself.

The Asset is now ready to strike.

James is not really able to account for why is he calling Potts that night. He listens to the woman speaking into the connection, and he considers to simply hang it up. But then he takes a deep breath.

“If this is a prank…” the woman starts and makes the Asset smile - this fragile human trying to threaten the infamous Winter Soldier without even knowing who is she picking fight with… It’s familiar in a way.

It’s like a joke in another way.

(Since how long he’s familiar with the concept of jokes?)

“Stark will be at home within days," James says. “Be prepared.”

The silence after his words is cutting like a blade.

“Who is this?” Potts demands answer with a voice so full of authority that in a knee-jerk reaction James almost answers honestly. But he catches himself in time.

“I don’t know about his mental or physical state, but he will be home soon. Wake his robots," he orders and ends the call and pulls his head down into his hands, metal cooling his skin effectively.

He slowly identifies the new feeling: hope.

James hopes he didn’t lie to Potts and he hopes he will bring Tony back at home tomorrow.

***

It’s the Winter Soldier that emerges next dawn. It doesn’t try to hide: it walks toward the terrorist liar as calm and indifferent as ever, like It has nothing to fear and nothing to lose.

As expected, this confuses the enemy. They don’t know the arriving one but they hesitate to fire in case the figure belongs to their ranks, and the Asset walks as long as the frontier of their camp. The Asset takes its time to carefully examine the site. It counts the numbers of weapons visible, with types and strength categorized easily in its head. (The Soldier can’t afford to slip out of battle mode and It has a firm grip on James, locked up in its own head, closed with all the disturbing feelings and memories and all.) The Asset knows that its very presence is designed to cause fear among people.

It also knows that fear is nothing compared to the feeling its actions can cause.

And It smartens up as soon as the first terrorist is brave enough to step in front of him. The Soldier doesn’t bother itself with its own weapons, despite having much of them on himself: It snaps the neck of the man with a quick and easily effective movement, and doesn’t let it go so the corpse can be used as a human shield against projectiles.

As expected, they opened fire.

The Asset abandoned its casual behavior, and springs into action as well. Its metal hand grabs the machine gun that hangs around the dead man’s neck and starts to shoot before anyone else, mapping its targets’ position in his head, trying to follow each and every movement even on his peripheral vision.

It is impossible, of course, since even It can’t snap its attention to more than two dozen directions, but It still is more effective than any human could be, especially considering that It uses its chance to move as well. It vaults himself forward, corpse still in hand.

Despite It moving, its shots are as precise as ever.

It has time to kill five people before one has the mind to use the heavier artillery. The Asset decides to abandon its shield in favor of more maneuverability: It throws the corpse to a nearby man. It jumps, higher than humanly possible, to overleap above a barrier made of sandbags, its metal hand ripping out the jugular of the one hiding there while his flesh hand already holds a rifle.

When It sees the hand grenades on the belt of the freshly killed man, It smiles and has no objections. He throws away two - the longer than comfortable distance is not a problem for the metal limb - before It moves again, lightning fast.

There are missions when the Soldier has to hold himself back, has to appear as an ordinary human.

This is not that case. It can be as damn effective as It wants - and It wants to be the most lethal thing It ever has been. Mercy was never in its vocabulary, but even if it were, it would be the mission to forget it again.

The Soldier was never a perfect as they claimed It to be. It always had flaws in its design, in its program code. Most of these didn’t really affect its function, but some of them ran deeper than others.

One of the program flaws is that the Asset is territorial. If it ever has a possession - let it be a weapon, a place to claim for itself, or a person -, it becomes highly protective toward that possession. It was an attribution that could be both count as an advantage and a disadvantage since usually the Asset only had its handlers and nothing else.

But that changed since It is out of Hydra’s reach.

Anthony Edward Stark became the Mechanic, and this Mechanic now belongs to the Asset. It is ready to bring hell down to anyone and everyone who ever threatened him. The Ten Rings did worse: they took the Mechanic from the Soldier, ripped him away for weeks and months and the Asset won’t let that stand. It will make an example to learn from for the future. It will send a message that none could interpret any other way than the threat that it is.

The explosions make the Asset smile under its mask. It barely senses the familiar smell of fire and smoke, but it hears the pained screams and sees the panic that rules the sight. The Ten Rings’ men are not well-trained, and definitely not a match against the world’s deadliest assassin, despite their high number.

It surges forth.

Two men go down in bloodshed as two knives at the same time cut through their arteries following the Soldier’s momentum. It would be too easy to end all of them from the distance. Anyone is able to throw grenades and fire cannons and machine guns. The Asset wants more. The Asset wants the example.

It uses the knives.

It is lightning fast, appears at one place and then it’s not there anymore, only to reappear at incredible distances within seconds. It hears the people yelling about demons and the judgment of gods in various languages.

It continues.

It slices veins and tears through flesh and breaks bones until there is no movement and no one stands anywhere.

It doesn’t look for the survivors, for the ones who are hiding in terror. They will be the ones who will carry off the message. They will be the ones who will whisper about creatures of nightmares and demons of revenge. Whoever has to - will understand the note. It walks to the entrance of the cave confidently.

However It halts the moment It hears the heavy footsteps - something new It never experienced before, therefore It decides to be cautious despite - or because - It didn’t meet any challenging yet here, and aims its machine gun into the darkness of the cave in an ever-patient wait for the threat to appear.

 

Notes:

Thank you so much for all wonderful comments! I'm doing my best to answer them properly, it might take a few days (let's hope the best), but I appreciate every kind word and every comment and every question and assumption and warning about mistakes!

Also, if you are interested, I have a tumblr as well :)

Chapter 8: Tony Stark

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Throughout the whole assault, Tony is thinking ‘this is not happening’. He knows that it is happening, and yet he can’t really process it. Not even when he’s hit. He lays there, looking up at the sky that is unrealistically blue - blue like those pained eyes, right? -, and he can’t believe it. He will be home soon. He promised, after all.

But instead of home, only darkness comes.

*

Tony spends the first weeks in a haze of post-surgery and pre-recovery medication. Whenever he resurfaces from it, the pain is nearly unbearable, his thoughts slow like slugs, his body dragged down by weights he isn’t able to lift. His rare dreams are full of nightmares of terror and death and pain.

When he comes to his senses, his body finally triumphing over fever and injury, comes the realization of what has happened and that drags the desperation with itself.

He isn’t sure why he is alive, but he knows his odds. If no one has found him for this long, then they will probably never be able to. Which means he can’t expect outer help and he’s at the mercy of his captors. For a time he’s too hurt and in pain too much to really care, but as days pass and he starts to feel better he becomes ready for a clearer view of the situation.

After all, he’s not dead.

Which means they need him.

Which means there’s hope. It leads to the conclusion that he has some space to navigate and come up with something clever, with something that will help him - that will save them.

After all, he can’t leave Yinsen behind. At first, he hated the guy - for the pain he caused, for the fact that he saved Tony. Tony never considered himself the damsel in distress. And because he now has a fucking car battery in his chest - until he makes a better one, but still.

But after a while and some meaningful conversations, things change.

“What the hell did you do to me?” becomes “Thanks for saving me.” ‘I don’t care about you’ becomes ‘I rely on you.’ And ‘I’m gonna die here’ turns into ‘I’ll free us’.

Tony is a genius. He was and he is the brightest mind of his generation, and he’s not supposed to go down because some stupid, stupid terrorists thought they could tame him to serve their twisted cause.

*

‘Do you have anyone at home?’, Yinsen asks, and Tony thinks about enthusiasm in circuits, about strawberry blonde locks touching his face, about friendly pats on his shoulder, about bear hugs and about the clouded grey of eyes. He smirks, but he shakes his head without any words. He doesn’t have anyone. They are not his to claim, they aren’t possessions like his cars. They are their own person - especially James -, and at the same time they are the anchors Tony needs to stay sane and to be able to see light in his future.

They make every suffering worthwhile for the goal of finally going home. So he starts to work.

*

He thinks about them almost constantly. He wonders how they are doing. He’s not religious, but he prays for Rhodey to be okay anyway because right now he can’t do anything else for him. He can’t really consider the chance that he might not be okay, that he’s most likely dead by now just like all those soldiers with him in the car, but his mind offers the numbers of odds anyway.

He thinks about Pepper and that he missed her birthday again because he can’t keep track of time and that he wants to do differently next year, he will set up reminders and alarms and everything to hit him on his head and he wants to be the first one that day to wish happy birthday to her. He wonders what did she buy for herself as a present.

He thinks about Happy and all the time they had races and how Happy taught him to box because Tony was bored and that was probably the first thing that popped in Happy’s head as something he could show. He remembers afternoons spent together while looking for the next car to add to Tony’s collection and how Happy was never jealous or greedy and how glad he was on Tony’s behalf whenever they found a new one to love and drive.

And he thinks about James. He thinks about his struggles and his eyes and his words and his stance and the files Jarvis showed and he wonders how he’s doing now, without mechanical and workout sessions. Is he there at all? Did he leave? Will he be there? Tony doesn’t want to lose him.

His limbs go numb by the simple thought of never seeing James again.

*

He thinks about the words James - nameless, scary guy at that time - said to him. “If someone is intending to kill a target, and they are dragging said target somewhere else to do the job, a great amount of pain and order of long suffering are predictable.”

He was right.

Tony has to get the hell out of here.

*

Tony has a basis for comparison now. He knows how much James is different from these people. He can see it clearly - and he sensed it from the beginning. He acted differently around James. He was more careless, more confident, he was so sure he was not in real danger… because he really wasn’t and somehow, deep down he instinctively knew it. With the Ten Rings it’s different.

With the Ten Rings any moment can be the last, even though they need him to build that damn missile he won’t build.

He can’t keep up his charade as effective as he wishes he could. He slips. He shows pain, he shows fear. This pleases them.

Tony thinks about James and how he endured any pain. He wants to be as brave as him but terror rattles in his bones and weights in his chest and he can’t.

But he wants to go home.

He wants to tell James that he’s not like these monsters. He wants him to know that Tony understands this now.

Yinsen says they’re not monsters. That they are victims too: victims of aggression, victims of propaganda, victims of loss. Yinsen doesn’t excuse them, just says pain can cloud the lesser man’s judgment this effectively.

Tony scowls and answers nothing. He can’t bring himself to see these men like Yinsen does. He can’t afford that because he might have to kill them to escape and he doesn’t want to get sentimental about that but he has his doubts.

He never killed anyone before.

Some say he did. Some blame him for what his weapons are used for but firstly, no one lives in an ideal world where no violence exists, and Tony won’t be regretful for his service to ensure the world remains as safe as it can be with the imperfect humanity on it. Secondly, he himself never pulled the trigger on another person. Of course, he knows how to use his (or anyone else’s) guns. It’s his job and field of expertise after all. (One of them, at least.) But the most vicious fights he ever has got into were fistfights during school years. He never needed to personally use his weapons before.

He is afraid. He can’t let Yinsen’s philosophy sneak into his head. He has to save them.

He has to get home.

*

He can’t bring himself to panic. Funny enough, as he remembers his first days with James that he spent in constant panic. That’s how much pain counts - it can paralyze anyone, not even Tony is above the effect of it, though he does his best to overcome it.

Tony tries to recall any time of James hurting him - okay, maybe when he grabbed him in the middle of the firefight, that was a bit too strong, but basically that’s it. He didn’t lash out at him when he felt threatened, not even when he heard about his escape attempt, not ever.

Unlucky for Tony, and contrary to James, these men like to play up the bad guys aspect. They enjoy humiliating him - at least he thinks that’s why he has to do laundry, for example. (Seriously?!) When they check on him and Yinsen, they hit them only for the fun of it, not because they did anything bad. Especially the lower ranking terrorists - though this ranking is nothing official, but very perceptible - enjoy the power they have over the prisoners and enjoy using it.

Tony hates them with his full heart. He never knew beforehand that he’d be able to feel emotions this intense. He wants to kill them - but at the same time, he doesn’t want that, he just wants to escape, to be away from their grips and laughs and out of their range and never see them again. He wants to hide like a wounded animal.

He wants to be alone and he dreads to be alone. Yinsen is his only real comfort in this hell and Tony’s ready to clutch at him as long as he lives if it’s necessary.

Because he will live. He’s gonna escape. There are people who are waiting for him to go home.

He has to promote Pepper for being the most awesome woman in history and upgrade his bots with newer wiring. He wishes to meet Happy’s family, something he insisted not doing for years now. He’s gonna go to all the science museums on the Earth with Rhodey and complain about the outdated info sheets on their fields.

He wants to be lost in James’s eyes. He wants to spend quiet evenings together. He wants to be near him. He wants to rest his hand on James’s shoulder, he wants to trace James’s features with his fingers, he wants…

*

His worst nightmares are not about his captivity. There is one particular picture set that makes him even more nauseous: him, at his Malibu mansion. His bots are in pieces - someone dismantled and destroyed them while he was away. Pepper’s resignation is on his surprisingly intact desk, along with a letter from Rhodey that says he’s a dead man and shouldn’t be alive and he should go back to the cave where he belongs now. Happy is backing away from him, holding a cross up and babbling about ghosts and then he disappears as well.

And James is nowhere to be seen. He’s gone, who knows where. His absence is almost palpable, and Tony chokes on thin air and wants die of shame for being alive and alone. Tony tries to reach out, to summon anyone like if he wants it enough they will be there but no one shows up and Tony wakes in cold sweat and with a different kind of hurt in his chest.

*

He builds.

That’s what Tony is good at: creating things. He curses under his breath because the unsuitable equipment is just as shitty as it can be expected in a cave surrounded by scrap metal and advanced weaponry. He cries when the pain in his chest pain strikes him to the ground after a too-sharp movement during work, when he’s still too weak to bend the metal and to turn his vision into reality. He throws the tools into a corner of their cell and shouts in rage when things don’t work out well enough.

But he continues. Each time when desperation creeps closer, when it threatens to overwhelm him, he sits down and thinks about his loved ones, he thinks about the future and how he will form it differently after these experiences, he thinks about the words Yinsen offers him from time to time - and after a short break he stands up and continues working.

Because it’s worth it. It has to be worth it. He has a goal, he has aid to reach it, and he’s the great Tony Stark. Not the Merchant of Death, greatest serial killer of their generation, he’s not what these morons think about him. But he’s the greatest mind of their generation. He’s hardworking and dedicated and he’s the New da Vinci and he’s the Futurist.

He’s a survivor. He’ll save himself and Yinsen. He just has to push himself a little more.

*

At night he stays awake and draws his plans on little sheets of papers until he figures it out.

*

He builds a functional miniature ARC-reactor.

‘Would you be proud of me now?’ he thinks that night, but Howard doesn’t offer any answer, not even in his head.

The glowing light in his chest is a reminder as well. There is no absolute darkness. Never will be again. There is no pain that can’t be turned into progression. Tony is the Futurist: it’s his job to find the way.

*

He builds. He pushes himself. More, more, more. He can’t rest. He can’t let them win.

He has to go home.

*

They don’t have enough time. Tony doesn’t let himself be distracted. He finishes the faceplate, and for the first time, he thinks he can understand James’s tenacity toward his mask. It feels pretty damn good to forge that thing out of metal.

When Yinsen runs out Tony finds a new meaning of the word ‘hell’. Standing there, unable to move, just listening to the sounds is the worst nightmare he can imagine at that point but he’s awake and can’t be redeemed and he has to wait it out and he can’t do anything else until the system loads to serve him and he curses everything and he feels his heart pounding in his ears and bile rising up in his throat and he simultaneously wants to die and to kill and to protect and that bloody, stupid computer to be faster and…

When he thinks he’ll go crazy, it is completed. The terrorists enter the cell and Tony is ready for them.

Through the whole building process, he never stopped to imagine how it will feel to actually wear the armor. But navigating the suit of armor is both harder and easier than he expected. It’s heavy in a physical way, the weight of metal and how it makes his movements slow, his vision impaired - no peripheral -, his steps echo loudly. But on the other hand, it’s easy, like a second nature to slip into. He knows the weaknesses of the armor, but no one else does and Tony feels indestructible and ready to fight. He’s ready to kill and when he does it he feels only a bit of remorse. He’s ready to be free again---

But he never imagined being free without Yinsen.

Seeing him wounded is both enraging and the worst kind of grief.

Tony opens up the faceplate and he doesn’t know what’s on his features but Yinsen smiles at him weakly and Tony wants to hold his hand but the armor that supposed to save both of them now blocks him from touching anyone.

“This was always the plan,” Yinsen says. “My family is dead,” he confesses. “Don’t waste your life,” he asks and closes his eyes.

Tony can’t even check his pulse. The only thing he’s able to do is to suppress his tears and his screams because he can’t betray Yinsen’s trust now, he has to make sure they get out finally. He has to cling to his rage to be able to do it.

He feels no remorse anymore as the terrorists go down one by one. Not when he fires the guns built into the suit, not when he punches so hard that the skull of a man becomes dollop under the pressure of it.

 

The echo of his steps sounds even heavier than before, but something is off, and it takes a few seconds for Tony to realize: the silence is too encompassing It doesn’t sound like there’s a frantic preparing outside, and even the usual noises of life are absent at the moment.

Tony grimaces under his faceplate and mentally prepares himself for whatever plan they may have come up with to stop him when someone shoots at him and from the shadows a familiar figure steps out. Both of his machine guns raised and aimed at Tony as James fires them both. For a few moment Tony’s heart is not beating at all because it can’t be real. Is it a dream? Is it a hallucination? Maybe the Ten Rings released some gas in the cave that makes him see this? Tony’s not sure, but he can’t bring himself to raise his arms and return the fire. There’s no way he’d be able to shoot James - not in real life and not in any kind of crazy fantasy.

James empties the whole magazine and then he drops the guns and from his posture, from the way he shifts his weight and raises his hand Tony knows James’s gonna jump on him and Tony doesn’t want to hurt him and he shouts.

“Stop!”

To Tony’s utter surprise, James freezes mid-motion, his head a bit turned, his metal arm ready to strike, the fingers positioned to grip and rip out anything. Tony’s heart beats like it wants to impersonate an aggressive metal song. Tony shows his palms in the universal sign of surrender.

“It’s me,” he croaks out. “James, it’s me.”

The figure flinches. He looks like he did when they first met: the whole black tactical gear and mask and weapons and everything are on him. Tony wishes for more light to see him better, because he can’t really make out his eyes and those eyes were always the way James was able to communicate best…

“Mechanic?” James’s uncertain voice is no more than a whisper.

“It’s me,” Tony repeats for the third time and slowly raises his hand to his face to lift the faceplate again. Before he can do it, though, James is there, his movement too fast for Tony to actually see and perceive, and James points a gun from who knows where directly to Tony’s neck between two pieces of metal. Tony is not bothered by the close proximity, and he’s above all at the edge of being hysterical by the turns of the events - knowing James if he’s here the fight is over -, and if he flinches in surprise the metal covering his everything hides it effectively.

He doesn’t move and doesn’t complain.

James’s movements are quick but gentle. He hesitates only for a brief, passing moment, and then he lifts the metal from Tony’s face.

Tony forces himself to smile at him. Beyond pain and grief and regret it’s relief that washes over him and it feels like it’s consuming his entire being, he can’t see and sense anything else, it’s just so damn good to see James, he missed him so much, he was so worried about him, he wondered so many times if he’d be there when Tony goes home and here they are, James was not at home but he came for Tony and Tony could sing and sob and cry and melt at the same time and he wants…

He doesn’t even know what the fuck he wants. But he locks eyes with his Sad Kidnapper and the warmth he feels is overwhelming.

“Mechanic,” James repeats himself, and even he sounds emotional, though Tony has no capacity to decipher the exact type and amount of his emotions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony has to ask as the first rush of delight goes out of him and he starts to feel the shock as well.

“I’m saving you,” James replies without any hesitance, and Tony has to scowl because clearly he’s able to save himself, thank you, but then he thinks about Yinsen and he wants to cry instead and wonders what could’ve happened if James came just a little bit earlier - just a few minutes could maybe make the difference… But James’s voice drags him back to reality. “I told you not to come here!”

He chuckles. The last time anyone talked to him with a tone like this was his father, and Tony was not more than seventeen at that time.

“I was with the army—” he starts to argue as an instinctive reaction, even though he knows James is right.

“THEY’RE USELESS!” James practically shouts and that intensity mutes Tony for a brief moment because he never heard him this bewildered before and the thought it might be because of him makes him both nervous hopeful at the same time. “You’re not leaving the house without me ever ag—”

“Wow,” Tony stammers out before he could stop himself. “You really were worried about me, weren’t you?”

James shuts up so fast Tony can hear his teeth clink together, but as always, James’s eyes betray him. They scream yes. They tell Tony what he needs: yes, James was over the roof with worry about him.

And Tony just can’t help himself, he’s so fucking glad to be near him. To see the proof that James not only waited for him at home, but he cared enough to go search for him, that he, Tony Stark, can be important enough for James to risk himself and… at a rational level, he knows that it’s about him being the Mechanic and it’s about James needing him for his mechanical arm and all, but in the heat of the moment that knowledge is distant and hazy under the layers of emotions. Tony’s always-running, calculating mind offers him numbers and probabilities and data and opinions, but he can’t possibly care about those.

For a blessed moment, Tony doesn’t care about anything at all, just leans forward - he has to bend to reach James and the helmet of his armor tilts on James’s head and this is so weird in a good way - and presses his lips onto James’ mask.

It’s strange, it’s not even a kiss, and Tony wants to unbuckle that damn thing and clear it out of the way but with armored fingers it’d be impossible and James is too shocked - or at least Tony hopes it’s just shock and not something worse - to do it so. Tony wants to savor James’s lips but he has to settle down with the metallic taste of the mask and he wants to cry out in impatience but then James’s flesh hand reaches up and cups his face and somehow it makes the moment bearable.

Tony doesn’t move and James doesn’t move and it feels like an eternity and he wants to ask if it’s okay and wants to see blue-grey eyes saying yes without words, but instead he slowly distances his lips and presses their foreheads together instead. At least that’s a skin on skin contact and Tony loves the heat of it and the slight rubbing of sweat, dirt and sand mixed on their skin and James’s hand is still on him caressing circles on his cheek and for a moment Tony forgets about anything else and feels content.

Then, of course, the world rushes up to him and he feels nauseous again.

“It’s not safe yet,” James says like he’s reading his mind.

“I know,” Tony answers, but they remain there for a few more moments before James steps back and straightens himself. “I have a friend,” Tony says. “I had. We… have to bring him back with us. He’ll… I’ll…” Tony can’t finish.

James seems confused.

“I won’t leave his body behind,” Tony states. “I promised him we’ll escape together.”

For a few moments, James’s face remains blank but then some realization hits and he nods. “Where?” is his only question and Tony’s grateful for small mercies like this. He’d not be able to talk much further about it yet.

He leads James there. James looks at him, raises an eyebrow, and kneels down to check the pulse. “He’s unconscious, not dead.”

Not dead. Tony blinks. Then he blinks again and looks at Yinsen. The doctor is so pale and he doesn’t seem to breathe and…

James raises his metal wrist in front of Yinsen’s mouth and the shiny plate - one of the very few almost-clean ones between bloodstains - becomes slightly cloudy. Sign of breathing, no matter how faint it is. Tony can’t drop on his knees because the suit keeps him upwards, but the feeling’s the same.

“Save him,” he pleads and he sounds lost and childish even to his own ears.

“It’s not safe yet,” James repeats himself. Tony wants to strip himself out of the suit and he’s ready to perform a fucking surgery if needed for Yinsen’s survival but James looks him dead in the eye and stops his movements and helps him to think a bit more clear. Just a bit.

“Save him,” this time Tony orders more than asks. “I’ll stand watch. I can shoot anything that comes in our way.”

James nods and starts to work to stop the bleedings.

*

It takes a while and Tony has to shoot down three more terrorists.He doesn’t regret it.

After a while, James steps next to Tony. “His wounds are not fatal,” he reports, and Tony wants to collapse again. “I’ve got a vehicle nearby.”

Tony shakes his head a bit. “I’ve got to destroy this place. They had my weapons. They can’t have my weapons. I have to make sure.”

James refuses to leave without Tony, but Tony refuses his offer of placing the bombs - Tony needs to do this himself, with his own hands, with his own creation. He can’t let anyone else do it, not even James. It takes a bit of persuasion - okay a lot -, but in the end James is the one who carries Yinsen in his arms and Tony stays behind to finish his job of destroying the Ten Rings. They stay within each other’s eyesight, though. Tony tries to ignore this fact and blowing up a terrorist camp is the perfect distraction and under the faceplate Tony grins like a maniac. He’s too delighted by his survival to care with the bloodshed outside. He’ll freak out later, he decides. After they’re all safe and sound.

*

They have a huge argument over it, but in the end Tony - with useful help from Jarvis - wins again.

He’s not sure if he wins because he really can reason this well or because James is closer to his original robotic self than the more open one Tony found during their time spent together, or maybe because they grew tired of fighting each other after the events. It can be both or neither.

All in all, Tony stays at the scene with James’s machine gun in one and a cellphone in the other hand while James drives away with Yinsen.

The Army arrives soon after. Tony hides the phone but shows off the gun and he doesn’t plan to stand up to greet them but he jumps to his feet when he sees Rhodey and he hugs him tightly anyway, and Rhodey hugs him back and Tony can totally believe that the world will turn out to be an okay place after all.

It takes two more days before he is free to go from the army’s medical, but he stays on phone with Jarvis so he can bear it. He’s so done by then and just wants to go home but he manages to pull his shit together long enough.

He manages until the first night at home.

 

 

Chapter 9: James

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Warning: Just the canon-typical suffering and PTSD and stuff. Nightmares, reagaining agency, aftermath of torture and characters trying to deal with their shit. Sometimes poorly. But they do their best!

James paces in the room where Jarvis guided him in order to lay the wounded man down. He doesn’t even know his name, and it’s not like he cares too much… He’s impatient and nervous and on edge. He shouldn’t allow Tony to stay back. He shouldn’t let him out of his sight again. Now he has to wait and worry and he can’t do shit to make sure he’s all right. He couldn’t check him thoroughly back in that cave. What if he was injured under all that metal? What if the Army doctors mistreat him? What if they want to run tests?

James scowls and shivers and rubs his forehead. If he’s been there he could prevent the tests but he shouldn’t show himself. He can’t argue with that rationally. He has to remain nameless, faceless, be the ghost he’s supposed to be.

But still.

He checks the man’s pulse and adjusts his bandages. James is not a medic, but he knows how to kill a man and therefore he knows by default how not to kill them. He’s pretty sure it’s enough in this case.

System disagrees. It alerts a doctor who shows up at the mansion. It’s not the New York one - according to the Mechanic’s request and following System’s instructions, they headed toward Malibu, California. The change of scenery makes James even more on edge. He wants to break things. Jarvis suggests the gym.

Half an hour later it’s not a gym anymore but a pile of wrecked equipment and rubbish and James doesn’t feel any calmer.

Meanwhile, System watches over the doctor treating the wounded man. The former leaves sometime later without any incident and without triggering any alerts.

James continues to pace from wall to wall. Jarvis waits. The robots are still inactive. Tony doesn’t come home that day.

***

When the Mechanic appears, he’s a wreck. The Asset sees it the second It lays eyes on him. James screams in its head and pushes his restraints away and resurfaces from the depths of their mind.

Tony walks inside alone, despite meeting the others - Rhodes, Potts, Hogan, and Stane - earlier. James even saw the press conference they held earlier, but he didn’t give a shit about that. He knows Tony has a company to run, but he has nothing to do with that and frankly, most of the time it didn’t seem that important to Tony either.

James doesn’t know what to expect, especially not after that scene in the cave, but it still surprises him a bit that Tony waves a dismissive gesture toward him and almost runs downstairs towards his workshop, leaving James with his hand raised and his forehead creased. James takes a deep breath, lowers his hand and tries to empathize.

The Mechanic has been under pressure for a long time and he’s probably hurt and needs time to regenerate itself. While he was absent Jarvis confirmed the suspicion that the workshop is his safe place. It’s understandable that he wants to be in his safe place. James remembers times when he crawled into his cell with the intent to hide from the world, from his handlers, when he didn’t want anything else than to be left alone.

They rarely allowed him this luxury.

James decides against following Tony. He doesn’t go after him and he doesn’t accompany him when Tony goes to check on the wounded man.

***

At the middle of the first night James follows the noise of sobs and for the first time, he enters the Mechanic’s private room. Tony’s on his back and he’s crying silently in his sleep, blankets tangled around his limbs. James’s at his side in an instant and reaches out to grab his shoulder but the faint moonlight glints on the metal of his fingers and James stops himself mid-motion.

No. It’s not…

It’s not right.

“Jarvis, wake him up,” he instructs in a whisper, his throat dry. System’s answer is barely audible.

“I assume it would be better if you’d do it, James.”

He shakes his head. “Incorrect assumption.”

He retreats from the room.

He listens from the other side of the door as System wakes its creator and the sobs afterward. He can’t bear himself to actually leave his Mechanic alone, but he can’t be at his side either.

System doesn’t betray his presence.

***

Jarvis orders new gym equipment - as well as a great amount of medical equipment. The delivery and the installing staff are discreet but they still unnerve the Asset who needs to scrutinize every one of them without them noticing it.

It’s a tricky quest. He’s rather proud when he manages it. That proves his skills are just as sharp as they were while he was with HYDRA.

Besides the workers, they have other company too.

***

Potts is as punctual as the Asset itself, she shows up at 10 o’clock sharp and ready for business. Either for company-related business or taking care of the Mechanic-kind of business. James watches over these meetings as well, because he refuses to let the Mechanic out of his sight, except to the workshop where he doesn’t follow.

But no one is allowed to enter the workshop anyway. James understands this and doesn’t test if he still has access or not. (He can get in through a closed door if he must.)

James loathes and admires Potts at the same time. Kind gestures are as natural to her as strict orders. She handles Stark’s eccentricities and his mood swings effortlessly and she’s able to keep him in line when needed, but she lets him ramble and trail off when not. James observes the way she lays her hand on his arm, how she stamps a quick kiss on his cheeks whenever she comes and goes, how she takes a deep breath to regain her composure whenever Stark starts to make her angry. He also watches the way she purses her lips together and straightens herself for a verbal fight and how she stands her ground against the Mechanic just as effectively as the Asset would stand against a physical assault. He ponders over the fact that she never returns the endearing nicknames Tony calls her but she switches to title plus surnames whenever Tony uses them too much and Tony always follows her lead. Tony also obeys her (especially when she suggests to delete things from his schedule).

James finds Potts to be a good example. He learns.

***

Stane is probably a good example too, maybe even more followable than Potts. He visits less often than her and he’s sometimes accompanied by Hogan, who seemingly became his driver in Stark’s absence.

Stane is kind. He touches Tony often, too, but those are different touches: Stane rarely allows skin-to-skin contact and his movements are hastier. It probably originates from his personality: kindness is not something he practices as much as Potts.

Potts is like a hawk or eagle: majestic in flight, quick to strike, peaceful when not hunting.

Stane is more like a shark: he’s always in motion, always looking for prey, can’t stand down, and when he finds the target he hunts aggressively and without excuses.

The Asset recognizes fellow predators, but they’re so different from each other and from him that he can’t feel any familiarity towards them. Still: Potts’s presence is welcomed and Stane somehow still makes him cautious. It also makes him wonder what comparison to use on himself, and he can’t really answer, not even after reading an entire encyclopedia’s worth about wild animals on the internet.

So he asks the Mechanic when they’re alone.

“What?” is basically Stark’s reply. James repeats the question a bit slower, suddenly uncertain, because the Mechanic’s gaze is so intense and so focused on his face - maybe he should wear the mask again, maybe showing himself at all was a mistake, maybe—

“You really dragged me out of my workshop to ask with which predator do I associate you with the most?”

James tilts his head curiously. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. I asked you through System if you wanted to come out and you came. Willingly.”

“Semantics!”

James waits and as expected the Mechanic continues.

“You avoid me like plague and you lurk in the shadows and now you pull me out for this?”

James flinches. “I didn’t…” he starts but stops himself. Does he have to elaborate? Stark is not a handler, he reminds himself. And the Soldier wouldn’t try to explain itself to the handlers either, It would just accept its punishment without complaint. So maybe doing so is not a bad thing? James takes a deep breath like he saw from Potts. “I didn’t avoid. You’re in the workshop. Your safe place. The arm works fine. I’m not bothering there,” he tries, and the sentences are broken in his head but he splutters them out anyway, as erroneous as they are because he’s not sure he’d be able to do better anyway.

Stark blinks back at him owlishly. “You what?”

James averts his gaze and shifts his weight and he’s ready to bolt. The answer isn’t worth this conversation - he feels like he’s malfunctioning again, his insides twist and his throat burns, but there’s nothing the Mechanic could do to help with that.

“Wait, wait!” The Mechanic grabs his wrist and the Asset reacts without conscious thought. He grabs the hand, twists it and yanks it upward as he’s stepping to the side and his other hand grabs the target’s elbow from below and he’s ready to twist it again and to step forward, to offset the opponent and from there a light push will be enough to take a man down and—

The Mechanic cries out in pain when James jerks him forward and it freezes the rehearsed motions.

They stand motionless for seconds, the Mechanic’s free hand is pressing on his chest and his face is contorted.

James lets him go and steps back instead. “I’m…” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry?” he offers, uncertain.

Stark rubs his chest but his face smoothens. “No. I’m… My mistake. I shouldn’t grab you.”

James presses his lips into an unhappy line. He didn’t want to hurt the Mechanic. Also, he didn’t know he was injured so badly that he’s still not fully healed. He should have been more cautious and more careful. It’s his fault.

“What’s wrong with your chest?” he asks, instead of explaining his thoughts.

Tony shakes his head. “Nothing.”

James knows he’s telling a lie. He knows from the sad quirk of his mouth, from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, from the way his hands move. James doesn’t mention any of those, just nods like he accepts the word.

“Anyway,” Stark continues without a pause but with a bit of a blush. “It’s forgiven, and shadow-lurking as well. I guess you can’t help that.” James grimaces. What does that suppose to mean? “And you can come down to the workshop if you want. It’s open, you know.”

James doesn’t know. What he knows is that Tony emerges from there when a visitor comes and he’s ready to deal with them but he locks the door when he’s not and Jarvis never let Stane or Potts in when this occurred.

“So, you had a question, right? What predator do I think you’d be or something? That’s easy.” Tony taps his fingers on his own lips, and he studies James observantly. “Some kind of big cat. I’d say cougar, but it can be a tiger as well. Do I have to share my reasoning? Well, cougars are on the bigger side of felines, they’re adaptable like you, secretive, solitary creatures and they’re freaky effective hunters. Plus they look gorgeous. Which is totally not relevant here, I meant I like big cats, they’re majestic. Have you seen close-up photos of their face? They have pretty expressive eyes, like y— like they can talk through their eyes, y’know. So. There you are, mountain lion.”

James feels the now-familiar warmth again but this time not only inside his chest but on his whole body and especially on his face. Strange. He smiles anyway.

“Oh my god, you are blushing,” Stark announces, bewildered, and he manages to confuse James even more. “Okay, so, what about me? I guess you have an analogy in store for me as well, not just Pep and Obie. What predator you think I am?”

James doesn’t hesitate at that. “You wouldn’t be a predator,” he shrugs.

“Excuse me?” Tony basically squeaks.

“It’s not in your nature.”

“Fuck you sideways, James, I’m terrifying!” he protests.

James sniffs and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Go to hell,” Stark mutters. “Fine. So what am I, according to your highly incorrect opinion?”

This time James takes his time, catalogs the animals in his head, switches through them like he’d do with weapons in stash. He has several ideas, but none of them seem actually fitting, like Stark’s too complex to be considered as only one thing. But he asked, so James tries his best, regardless of the effect of his hesitation on Stark, who is already on edge by the silence.

“A hummingbird.” He says out loud before he changes his mind.

Tony stares at him, mouth hangs slightly open. “A what?!” he croaks out.

“Hummingbird. They’re small like you, and they’re fast. I’ve read some suspect they live in some other dimension or something because their speed of wing movements and heartbeat and all is just physically impossible according to science,” James explains without any hint of emotions in his voice while watching the floor. He doesn’t want to look at Tony. “You are impossible like them. Also, they've a high-functioning ability for perception and processing information and they are loud compared to their size with various sounds and songs. So. There are many similarities.”

James glances up after finishing the explanation and finds Stark staring back at him with sparkling eyes. He doesn’t seem angry, quite the opposite: he’s almost… flustered?

“If I may interrupt,” System’s voice comes from the speakers. “I might add that the Aztecs thought hummingbirds were fallen warrior’s souls that returned to Earth.” Jarvis almost sounds smug, especially compared to James's neutrality.

“Well…” Tony says finally. “Maybe your opinion is not that incorrect after all, Soldier Boy.”

James considers it for a moment and decides it’s a compliment. It makes him courageous and it makes him want more, but he’s not really sure what exactly he wants.

James decides to run an experiment. Maybe he can do it after watching and listening to doctors talking about experiments all the time around him, while they thought - did they really think that? - that he can’t hear them.

James raises his flesh hand and slowly, deliberately closes the distance between his fingers and the Mechanic’s face. He stops two times before he’s able to finish the movement, but Tony waits with his eyes focusing on the Soldier’s. James’s not sure if it’s right to do this, or if he’s doing it the right way. He’s uncertain and hesitant, but experiments are expected to have uncertain outcomes and to reach new discoveries.

And Tony’s not protesting, quite the opposite: he leans a bit into the contact, and James’s hand cups his face perfectly, every inch of his skin in contact with Tony’s, just the right curve to fit together.

Tony exhales slowly and closes his eyes and he seemingly relaxes a bit.

James is surprised to see this. He expected shouts and protest and punishment. He’s not something that’s designed to simply touch people, and people should be afraid of him, but the Mechanic is not…

“Is it okay?” he asks quietly.

Tony hums and leans more firmly into the contact, and strokes his face in the Asset’s palm. James feels disoriented and like he’s floating.

“It is,” Tony reassures. “You’re doing great.”

James doesn’t move again for a while, and Tony stays in place too, but his eyes are open and he just stares and James is not sure what’s the meaning of this, but he decides the experiment is a success.

***

That night he wakes Tony from his nightmare and only flees after Tony’s looking at him.

He sits at the other side of the door again while Jarvis comforts its creator.

***

Tony is building something again. James doesn’t ask questions, but he sometimes visits the workshop. Each rare occasions when he does so the Mechanic puts aside the schematics and robot parts he’s constructing and he waves for James to sit down next to him and James obeys without further questions or objections.

Tony opens up the plates and they listen to loud music while the Mechanic works. He doesn’t speak to him. James doesn’t ask him to do so.

He knows the Mechanic does not mean harm to him.

After Tony is done or James feels overwhelmed and needs to stop, he touches Tony’s face.

After a few days, Tony returns the touch. After a week, he even smiles genuinely while doing so.

***

When James asks Tony to go train with him, he accepts the invite. James does everything like he used to, but Tony is slow and careful with each movement like he doesn’t trust his body anymore, and he spends almost half of the time with just the warming up. This makes the Asset impatient and when they finally stand up facing each other, he lashes out without any warning. He uses one of the movements they practiced before, and Tony barely blocks it, and James is able to grab him.

After two more moves Tony is on the ground and he screams and tears leak from his eyes and he breathes heavily and his muscles tremble with pain.

A second ago he was fine. James backs away from him hastily.

He didn’t mean to hurt him - he did nothing more than what they practiced before and he never expected this outcome - he’s not sure what exactly happened - he pushed Tony on his chest. He didn’t even use real force, it was barely a shove and yet the Mechanic is down and the only thing he’s able to do is to watch from safe distance. If he’s not near enough to reach then he can’t hurt him more.

James slowly crouches and kneels down and watches as the Mechanic gathers himself.

It takes minutes until Tony looks up. “That was on purpose.”

It’s not really the truth but not a false assumption either now that James thinks about it, so he nods slowly. “You lied,” he answers.

“I do that often,” Tony tries to shrug but stops himself with a painful grimace. “I bet I didn’t fool you, though.”

James thinks Tony can’t fool anyone. If not his face than his hands betray him all the time.

“What happened?”

“I don’t think you want to hear it.”

James, still on his knees, moves a bit closer cautiously. Tony, still lying on the floor, watches it and doesn’t object but he doesn’t encourage it either. That’s okay, though.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

James reaches an invisible line. If he’d reach out he’d be able to reach Tony with his fingertips. He stops and waits for a while.

No protest. No rebuke. No one entering the gym to stop them.

James swallows and reaches and he brushes Tony’s hand so lightly that it’s barely sensible.

Tony shivers with closed eyes.

James retreats his hand immediately.

“It’s okay,” the Mechanic says without looking at him. “Feels nice.”

Nice is not relevant to a mission, but it’s not just a mission anymore. The Mechanic is safe and at home and James will do everything to protect him but it’s not about protection right now. It’s not… it’s not something the Asset understands but something he wishes for anyway.

James bends forward and gingerly entangles their fingers. “Can I help you?” he asks this time.

Maybe he did something terrible - or something really good, he has no idea - but Tony sobs again and curls around his own chest and tightens his hold. “It still hurts,” he wheezes out - the sound is so terribly familiar -, and then he sits up and he starts to pull his shirt over his head with one hand until his chest is bare, except the strange device that glows in the middle of his sternum, only a few inches above the place James hit him earlier.

James sucks in a breath. If he’d punch only a little above that… it wasn’t hard but still… he restrains himself and doesn’t try touching the device.

“I had a car battery attached to me,” the Mechanic laughs and his voice is hysterical. “Can you believe it? Yinsen saved me with a fucking car battery!”

But this thing is not a car battery, James can clearly see that and he can’t tear his eyes from the blue glow.

“I built a better one. I’m still building a better one.” The Mechanic’s smile is wolfish and he laughs again.

James squeezes his hand a bit stronger and Tony clings to it.

“You got out,” James tries to come up with something that is comforting, something that he can say to calm him down. He doesn't know much about comfort, except maybe deep down... but it's not the right time to think about that. “You saved yourself. You saved that man.”

Tony finally tells the story and they hold each other’s hands all through while Tony cries.

(Crying is so strange and sad. James wants to fight the Mechanic’s tears away.)

***

Tony really is building that new device. At one point he invites James down into the workshop to install the new ARC-reactor into his chest. James uses the opportunity to look at it closely, and he finds it kind of… fascinating. That glowing is not good for stealth missions, though, and now the mechanic will need extra caution around metal detectors, just like the Asset.

“You are like me now,” it slips out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The Mechanic smiles but it’s tinged with sadness.

“Right. Cyborgs unite, yay,” he remarks and James smirks and lays his fingers on the device.

“It’s warm.”

“Not for long now.” The Mechanic shows up the replacement. James observes that too.

They try to switch it, but James can’t reach deep enough to pull the wires and it fascinates him in a way but makes him enraged in another. It’s weird how much science and medicine can achieve - he’s a prime example of that -, but just how much damage did the Mechanic suffer at the hands of his captors? James wants to go back and kill them again, but slower and more painful this time. They’d deserve hell for this. His message was not nearly devastating enough, not compared to this. James grabs a random tool and throws it at the wall and the force puts a dent in it

“Hey! No wreaking havoc in my workshop!”

Right. The Asset heaves and he can’t breath properly and the walls are closing in on him and there’s the Mechanic in his memories with his hand on the Soldier’s chest and ordering firmly to breathe but at the same time there’s the blond boy too, stooped and wheezing and James bending over him and the two (or more?) memories are now entangled in a mess. His bad hand is shaking. The metal one remains steady. He kind of wants to rip it off and he holds the limb away from himself like it’s gonna bite and he doesn’t understand anything - why is it so overwhelming - why now - and what exactly - he shouldn’t be like this - he’s the Asset he’s the Soldier - except he’s not, not anymore, he’s James and maybe he’s this other person too from the memories—

James flees from the workshop and locks himself in his room.

***

The wounded man - Yinsen, James knows by now - recovers steadily.

And he’s upset, at least James thinks after one visit and then he decides not to push his presence any further. He wears his mask that day - he’s still not stable after his meltdown in the workshop and he needs this kind of self-affirmation. Yinsen jerks awake when he enters, and his eyes widen and his expression turns into pure terror. James shows up his palms in the universal sign of peace offering but the sight of his metal hand just cause more panic and the man sinks harder into the mattress and doesn’t even blink.

“I don’t mean harm to you,” James tries, but he is hoarse. Yinsen doesn’t try to fight or to run. He stays motionless and takes a deep breath and closes his eyes like a person who accepts whatever terrible fate is waiting for him.

James leaves the room.

***

Potts solved the problem of switching the Mechanic’s devices. James is glad that he can count on others with tasks James’s unable to do, but he’s mad at himself at the same time because there shouldn’t be a task existing that he’s unable to do. He was the Asset once. He should be the best. Yet he can’t even help his Mechanic properly.

Tony seems to be doing good, at least. He builds. James is still not sure about the purpose of the new project, but Tony doesn’t talk about it and James doesn’t ask. They talk about people instead.

Tony tells that Potts told him about James’s phone call.

“Why did you call her?” he asks, curious. James can’t answer so he just shrugs. It was stupid and strategically a mistake. But he shouldn’t make mistakes and more importantly, he’d never, ever admit to making them. So he stays mute and the Mechanic starts talking about Pepper instead and how fantastic she is.

He tells James that Rhodes wants him to build new weapons but Tony doesn’t want to do that anymore. James goes tense at that but can’t flee because Tony is wrist deep in his arm and if he tears himself away he might ruin everything inside so he stays in place. Does that mean that Tony doesn’t want to be his Mechanic anymore? Well, he wouldn’t do his arm in that case, right? He has to ask to be sure, so he clears his throat and then can’t find the words, but Tony looks up, examines his face for a few seconds in confusion before he realizes what’s going on.

“No, don’t misunderstand, I won’t leave you alone with this!” he knocks on the metal plates with his knuckles. “It’s a one of a kind piece of tech, I have no problem with upgrading. I don’t think you’ll use it to hurt innocents, right?”

The Soldier doesn’t need to think about the answer, it comes to his tongue and he repeats it without knowing who said it first.

“My work has been a gift to mankind and I formed the century.”

Tony’s face does something complex that James can’t really understand as it goes through emotions rapidly, then settles with mild discomfort.

“Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that and you simply agreed with me, okay?”

“I won’t hurt innocents.” James can safely promise that. Why would he want to do that? If someone comes after him or the Mechanic he kills them, but if they try that means they’re far from innocent. It’s not like he’d go out to simply shoot civilians.

Tony studies his face again, then nods. “I believe you, James.” He continues his work.

***

For once it’s Tony’s time to find James on the floor. He’s on the corridor in front of Yinsen’s room - the Iranian man didn’t leave it since he arrived -, and James is pressing his metal hand on his forehead and he tries not to sob out loud. He should not make noises. He should not show his pain, they might come and punish him, a weapon doesn’t feel pain, he knows it’s wrong - he’s wrong he’s malfunctioning he should be corrected he should be wiped no he shouldn’t please leave me alone it just hurts so much - and at Tony’s touch he just curls around himself further and he changes the metal arm’s angle to protect his head from the punishment…

But punishment doesn’t come and Tony sits down next to him and just leaves his palm on his shoulder, and occasionally pats him lightly. And he talks. He starts with empty phrases about needing to calm down - like the Asset didn’t know that already - and follows them up with reassurances that they’re safe - no one can enter the base without System’s knowledge, James reminds himself as well -, then he runs out of these as well and he sticks with talking about whatever crosses his mind.

James hears about Potts and how Stark nearly fired her when she didn’t let him bail out of a board meeting he really didn’t want to attend. Tony talks about his first meeting with Rhodey at MIT and their classes together and how great of a friend he was to Tony. He shares anecdotes about Happy and their field trips to several places and how much he relies on him. Tony talks about Stane and how important he was in his life after his father’s death.

The words cause such a headache that he nearly whines but at the same time they’re comforting so James doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t move and he listens. He tries to focus on his Mechanic so he won’t have to deal with maybe-memories about how he got his cuts on his back, so similar to the ones Yinsen had from torture. If he concentrates enough then maybe he can ignore the phantom pain in his ribs, cracked under boots of handlers. If he’s good enough at listening then he can forget the cold rattling in his bones as the cryotube freezes around him mercilessly.

He listens until it becomes too much. He listens until he falls asleep, right there in the corridor, with his Mechanic’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.

***

When James sees Tony and Yinsen sitting next to each other without any words, both of them staring at the void with empty eyes, he just closes the door and doesn’t bother them. It’s not his place. Yinsen still fears James so he’s not welcomed in his room. Those two suffered together and they deserve time for recovery together.

He has no idea when he started to use the word recovery instead of regeneration.

And if Tony locks himself in the workshop again for hours after this with only Jarvis to watch over him, it’s not James’s fault. At least he hopes so. He guards the door anyway to make sure his Mechanic is safe. 

Chapter 10: Tony Stark

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera, Neutralchaos

Notes:

We're getting closer and closer to the end! Ssorry I missed yesterday's posting, real life got in the way. Beautiful illustration by the talented neutralchaos.

Life doesn’t turn into a fairy tale just because he returns home.

He wished for that. He wanted everything to go back to normal like nothing happened, but that’s impossible and in the bottom of his heart Tony knows this as well. He just doesn’t want to face it.

Seeing his loved ones is great. Knowing that they’re safe is even better. Tony has a rush of protectiveness washing over him the moment he sees Pepper and Happy, and he has to force back tears of relief because they’re with him, they’re unharmed - what if someone tries to reach Tony in America, Happy could get hurt and Pepper, what if someone knows how much Pepper means to him, they might try to target her oh fuck me not them - and he has to hide all of these raw and unexpected emotions behind the usual teasing which Pepper returns immediately like she needs it just as much as him.

Things will never be the same as they were before his time in Afghanistan. Tony is not stupid, he knows this. But even he isn’t above wishful thinking, he just hates himself for it more than the average person.

The press conference goes both wonderfully and awfully. He feels electrified being in the center of the attention - the kind of excitement that he learned to feel because he had to live his life in the spotlight and this way he could at least enjoy it -, and at the same time he wishes to be anywhere else but there where their gaze feels like scalpel cutting through him and skinning him alive until he’s nothing more than nerves being revealed to open air.

It’s no surprise he flees into the workshop the moment he steps into the mansion. He’s glad Pepper made sure to transfer his bots into this house from New York. He plays with the idea of asking James how he likes this place but he decides against it because he’s just so fed up with people he might explode if he has to deal with one more right now.

His bots are way better company. DUM-E practically topples him over the moment he senses his presence - and he senses it immediately as the robot was lurking near the door to be able to greet him immediately. Butterfingers and You are enthusiastic as well, bending themselves over him and clapping and chirping and gyrating and lifting their heads and all. For them, it’s probably like when he first arrived home with James, but for Tony, it’s more time passed and the reunion is way more intense. He has to smile fondly.

“Hello, kids,” he says quietly. “Did you miss me?”

“They did, even in their sleep,” Jarvis answers. “And so did I. Welcome home, Sir.”

It’s ridiculous to be sentimental now. It is. Yet Tony can’t help the tears that fill his eyes as he hugs the the bots and he presses his forehead into You’s beam and grabs one of Butterfinger’s claws.

“It’s good to be home,” he breathes out.

***

It’s really good but at the same time, he can’t delay his problems like he did at the army hospital.

He’s so exhausted he basically faints as soon as his head hits the pillow but soon his rest becomes filled with nightmares. Nothing is right anymore, the mattress is too soft, the pillows that should be familiar smell alien and there’s no reassuring snore close to him. He can’t stop his mind. The familiar nightmare of abandonment returns but this time with company. The bald leader of the Ten Rings is there to raid over everything with Stark weapons and everyone is gone and it’s Tony’s fault it really is Tony’s legacy and he can’t help it—

Jarvis wakes him up and he feels like his chest is on fire because of the heaving and he can’t get enough oxygen into his system and he’s a freak now and forever will be and the only one he can blame is himself because his own missile did this to him—

His hands shake and his body shakes and he can’t sleep anymore.

“Talk to me, Jay,” he asks and his voice is as weak as his whole self feels.

“Do you have any specific wishes about the topic, Sir?”

“I really don’t care, read an audiobook if you want, just talk to me, buddy. And switch on some lights, will you?”

The A.I. hums for a moment and the soft lights of the room fight the remnants of the lurking nightmare and then Jarvis starts to read The hobbit and slowly Tony’s heartbeat goes back to normal.

***

He can’t be in silence. He was never the one to endure long periods of time in silence but it becomes extreme even to him as every minute needs to be filled with noise. He can deal with that - music and TV programs in the background and Jarvis at hand can solve this problem easily. It’s more distressing that he can’t find the words himself. He used to be chatty - he still is, but it needs more effort on his behalf, and the sentences that come out of his mouth don’t feel natural anymore like he’s an intruder in his own body and he just uses it and somehow others will hear it out of the words. Objectively he doesn’t talk any differently than earlier. (He makes Jarvis run tests and comparative studies.) But subjectively it feels different.

He practices with Jarvis because he can’t trust anyone else with this task and the A.I. knows him better than literally anyone in the world.

After a day he’s ready for others. Pepper doesn’t notice anything, and neither do Obie and Rhodey. Tony calms down a bit.

***

Jarvis updates him on Yinsen’s condition. The good doctor was treated well and he got sedatives and painkillers so effective he was under for nearly three consecutive days before they cut back on the dose. (Tony is lucky he knows discreet doctors and he’s lucky he has Jarvis to keep everything in his metaphorical hands in their absence.)

When Yinsen wakes up first, Tony is there and he holds his hand.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs and gives him water drop by drop through a straw. “We’re out, we’re safe.”

He doesn’t believe his own words. Are they really safe? Is there any place on the whole of the Earth where people like Tony can be safe? He’ll always be a target for greedy people and if someone once was able to delude everyone responsible for his security and kidnap him then others can do the trick as well.

“You should’ve left me there, Stark,” Yinsen croaks and he tries to pull his hand from Tony’s grip. “That was the plan.”

“I don’t leave people behind. That was never my plan,” Tony states but he releases his hold on Yinsen’s hand anyway.

“I didn’t ask for it,” Yinsen sighs and closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

Tony’s left there with bile in his throat and guilt in his chest and the sudden anger toward the man who saved him and apparently didn’t want the same in return.

But Tony would do the same over if he’d have the chance again, even knowing the reaction. Yinsen will change his mind later.

***

So he’s a hummingbird. Apparently. According to James.

It’s so fucking hilarious that he has to call Rhodey too. Rhodey is mad at him, probably, and he has every right to be so, because Tony gone missing put a lot of pressure on him both personally and professionally and then he didn’t discuss his weapon manufacture shut down with him, just did it without any warning and all in all, Tony acted like a really bad friend lately.

One might say that being kidnapped and being forced to build weapons for terrorists in a cave can excuse everything but Tony doesn’t think it excuses anything.

Still, he has to call, because who else could he talk to about this? Without revealing James, of course, because Tony might be a bad friend but he’s still not an asshole and James is so far from ready for that revelation like Tony is from Afghanistan. Geographically. Or whatever.

“What animal do you think I am?” he asks Rhodey without any introduction.

“Right now or in general? Because right now you’re an ass. Interpret the word as you wish.”

Tony smiles at the insult. He can always count on Rhodey.

“In general, I guess.”

“A corgi, then.”

“A what now?!” Tony squeaks, bewildered. What the hell is this with everyone? Why can’t they name a cool animal just once?

“A corgi. You’re small, adorable and loyal, plus you’re always excited to see the ones you love and even the Queen herself loves you the most,” Rhodey explains. “Why a-haaa-re you asking?” He yawns in the middle of the question, and Tony belatedly realizes it’s almost two o’clock. Oops.

Some people, Rhodey among them, have normal sleep schedules. What a wild concept. He feels ashamed suddenly for waking him up in the middle of the night, and really, just for this stupid thing to ask.

“It’s nothing, Platypus. Go back to sleep. G’night.” He hangs up and buries his face in his hands, but the contact reminds him the moments when James touched his face and he feels himself blushing.

If he’d be a better person, he’d concentrate on the fact how huge this step is for James, or would wonder how long it has been since he’d touched another human like that or something. But instead, he just sits there in the semi-darkness with a dopey smile on his face and wonders if James’ll caress him again and he remembers how content he felt at those moments when his warm and gentle hand was rested on his skin.

***

If he makes himself busy again then maybe he’ll be tired enough to sleep. It doesn’t work as fabulously as he’d wish. It takes just a mere week and he’d kill for a good night’s sleep. Since that’s still illegal and morally a bad thing to do - and would probably not gain any good effect on his psyche anyway - he restricts himself only to building things.

A better ARC reactor, first and foremost, something out of lighter materials - it would be fucking hilarious to use vibranium, for example, but sadly he doesn’t have any of that in stock -, with harder and better alloys. Also, he can do better wires and better socket and everything… Tony can build, that’s literally the only thing he feels he’s good at right now. When he’s tinkering in the workshop his hands don’t shake.

But while he’s not busy patching up his heart he has another project, one he keeps a secret, because who should he trust it with? He experienced first-hand just how outstandingly effective this thing can be - and it will be even better when he’s done with it, this time using proper methods and materials and tests and Jarvis’s help. He’ll probably share some parts of the suit to the R&D section because without the weapons they can use these features for many things, but not right now, not yet.

So Tony builds. He builds like he’s on a limited time window, like he has to make his last great work before something terrible happens.

Because he feels that an unidentified, terrible something is creeping closer with each day.

***

Yinsen doesn’t warm up, even though physically he recovers quickly. He sits up, then stands, but he refuses to leave the room. He spends his days mostly by staring out of the window, perfect view for the waves of the ocean, and he taps his index finger on the elbow rest of his chair rhytmically.

It’s unnerving.

Tony tries to talk to him and fails. They found the right tone back in a cave easily but it's so much complicated now that they're home and don't have to stress about imminent death or torture or being left alone.

“Do you really expect me to be sorry for saving you?!” he shouts once.

Yinsen raises his tired eyes on him, and his lips curl into an unhappy smile.

“I saved you because you had hope, Stark,” he explains quietly. “My last mission on this Earth…” Seriously, Tony thinks dazzled, what is it with these mission-happy people around him? “…was to make sure those people are stopped from their evildoings. You did that. I saved you, I eased my conscience and I was ready to go. You steal me from that peace and you stopped me from seeing my family again. Do you really expect me to be happy for you saving me?”

And Tony can’t answer to that, he chokes on words and he has to leave. He tried to do the right thing, or was it only selfishness that dictated to save the doctor? And if it’s the latter then how would he be able to differentiate between right and wrong, good and bad? Does he really think he can be provided with the power the suit gives to its owner? He’s known to be the Merchant of Death already, to be selfish, to be hedonistic, to not face the consequences of his actions… Maybe he should find someone else and give them the suit when it’s ready.

Right?

That would be the right thing to do.

The problem is, Tony doesn’t want to do the right thing and he doesn’t want to let anyone else pilot the suit.

 It’s his. It’s him.

 And besides, he doesn’t feel like trusting anyone this much. Not himself, but not anyone else either.

***

Tony starts to share some parts of the exoskeleton suit plans with R&D. He texts them about prosthesis prototypes and requests that they contact veteran centers for further input. Obadiah shows up not two hours later, and Tony entertains the idea of simply locking himself in the workshop, like he sometimes does nowadays, but then he takes a deep breath and decides to take the sour pill quickly. He emerges on the ground floor forcing his brightest smile on his lips.

“Son, what is this madness with your new project?” are Obie’s first words to him. Tony kind of expected it, he always knew how dedicated Obie is to their work. He spent his whole life building SI, first with Howard then with Tony, the company’s important to him, and he thinks Tony is endangering it with his reckless behavior. Objectively, Tony can even agree with him on certain points, but Obie can’t see the whole picture, he wasn’t there in Afghanistan, he doesn’t know how many Stark weapons end up in bad hands all the time, he doesn’t know one of his own missiles put a hole into Tony’s chest. “I was sure you were working on the reactor!”

Tony’s smile fades. “I don’t need to work on that,” he says. “Firstly, it’s done and it’s fine. Secondly, I’ve heard you ordered some R&D geek to do exactly that.” He tries and fails to hide the hurt in his voice. When Jarvis alerted him about Coulbert’s - one of the lead scientist’s - project files he felt almost... betrayed.

Of course, with a bit of time, he had to admit the decision wasn’t without solid sense. Tony didn’t send anything into the SI servers for weeks. Obie tried to give him a break, putting his needs over the company’s, which was unexpectedly kind of him.

Tony understands this.

 Still, Obie hugs him close and it feels good and Tony goes pliant under his hand. It’s as close to a fatherly touch as he’s ever had.

“Tony, you have to understand…” Obie starts.

“I understand,” Tony reassures him quickly. “I know. The stock market, the shares, the fallout of my decision. You’re on damage control again. I get it.”

“I knew you would,” Obie smiles at him. “But still, Tony. Prosthesis? That supposed to be our new direction? The board members will eat me alive if I stand in front of them with this! You said you’re working on something big!”

Tony has to think hard for a few seconds to recall what he’s talking about. “That was before…!” he chokes on the words and he can’t finish the sentence. So many things happened, since… since. “That was before everything,” he says finally. “If they expect a weapon from me, they’ll be disappointed. How’s the cleaning up going? Are they willing to supervise all contracts?”

“I’m working on it, Tony, you shouldn’t worry about that. If you want to do good to the company, invent something magnificent that will amaze them for good,” he suggests.

Tony thinks about his work. Mechanics and hydraulics and repulsors in endless blueprints and in reality flash in front of his eyes. He knows for sure that all of those old dicks would be amazed if he’d show them the suit. That would shut their mouth.

But he knows as well that he won’t do that. He won’t give this project over, he won’t share all parts of the plans, just bits and pieces, because the suit is powerful and dangerous and he tries to do the right thing, just like Yinsen wanted him to.

He forces a smile again.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises.

***

Tony works like a maniac.

James comes down occasionally and the doors are always open to him. He abuses this right by dragging him out to eat and sleep from time to time. Jarvis, the traitor, even encourages James in this endeavor. Dummy is the only one to beep sadly whenever Tony leaves the room, the other two bots are on the same ground with Jarvis.

Still, Tony usually falls asleep in the workshop, too exhausted to climb up the stairs to a bedroom. He has nightmares more often than not.

Half the time Jarvis wakes him up by talking to him.

The other half it’s James who is carrying him to bed and makes his heartrate go back to baseline with soft touches and caring eyes.

Tony starts to crave those times, because if James holds him and rests his hand on his face after the terrors of his dreams he’s actually able to calm down.

***

It takes more than a month but the suit - Mark II, as the files say - is ready. It’s a miracle, and it’s beautiful. Tony can’t wait to try it out, nevermind Jarvis’s protest, and he flies and shouts in excitement, and for the first time since his return he feels really, truly alive and he can finally breathe free.

***

Going to a gala was easier before he had a very worried house-guest. Tony barely changes into a tux and starts to go toward the door of his room when James appears in front of him, seemingly from nowhere (bad habit of his), and tries to stare holes into Tony’s skull with his arms crossed in front of his torso.

Tony sighs, exasperated. “I’m going out,” he says though it’s obvious.

“You’re not leaving the house.”

It really is the first time since his arriving back, if not counting his test fly an hour or so ago.

“James…”

“Last time I let you out of my sight you were kidnapped for nearly three months!”

Fair point. Tony wants to be patient, James surely deserves it, but it’s just not in him nowadays. “Thank you for the reminder, I kinda forgot about it. I’m fucking glad you keep track of my suffering so well,” he remarks dryly.

James flinches. He opens his mouth to say something, but then decides against it and closes it without uttering a word. He tilts his head. “I need to protect you,” he whispers finally, and he sounds lost again and concerned and honest.

Tony doesn’t want him to be honest. He wants him to be mad, to yell at him, to be a dick. It’s so hard to be mean to someone who looks like a kicked puppy. Tony sighs. “Sorry.”

James shakes his head.

“I really have to go,” Tony says.

James nods and watches the floor. Tony tries to go past him but he still blocks the way.

“James…”

There’s no answer for ten… twenty… thirty seconds. Then James abruptly looks up.

“I’m coming with you,” he announces.

Tony is so surprised he forgets to argue, just nods, stunned.

***

Jarvis deals with the electronic paperwork. A fake identity of James (because of course he has one) appears on the guest list. Apparently, James can dress properly if he wants, and Tony’s breath is caught in his chest when he sees him in a three-piece suit. (Where the hell did that come from?! Tony has to ask Jarvis later.) Only to be even more surprised to see that James wears a different face.

“What the fuck?” he blurts out.

The shy smile that appears on the unfamiliar features is definitely James’s. He looks like an older man - closer to sixty than fifty -, the face full of wrinkles, the hair grizzled and short. The bone structure seems similar to the original but he has a different nose shape and his eyes appear to be mushy light brown. All in all he seems totally forgettable, minus his size, but he hunches himself to appear smaller.

Tony is amazed and horrified at the same time, but he doesn’t have time to ask many questions. James points to one of the cars.

“I’ve checked that, you are allowed to drive but I’ll follow close,” he states. Tony accepts. 

***

He can’t see James, though to be fair there are so many people that he might even lose track of him if he looked like himself. Maybe. Tony tries to believe this, but he’s pretty sure he’d spot the familiar icy shade of James’s grey eyes from a mile by now. He can’t muse much, though, because there're Pepper and Obie and Christine Everhart and…

The evidence of his company still selling weapons to terrorist.

Tony’s fingers go numb and he feels his chest ache as he besets the photos and runs to Obadiah. It’s childish, but for a few moments, he’s so sure Obie will just make everything all right with a flick of his fingers. Like it’s that easy. Like life’s still a fairy tale.

He should have known that tales always lie.

“I was the one who filed the injunction against you,” Obie confesses while smiling for the cameras and Tony can’t force himself to do the same. He just stays there, stunned, shocked, betrayed.

He stands and waits for the world to collapse around him and he feels nineteen again and helpless and hopeless and lost. He stays until a figure shows up next to him with an unknown face, a very brief but well-known touch on his cheeks and a familiar shape of body and James drags him by his arm and leads him for several minutes in unfamiliar places until there's no one around and they find the car James came with and he drives him home.

Tony does his best not to cry. He’s not a kid anymore and he had his fair share of tears nowadays anyway.

***

Watching the news about Gulmira is one part self-torture, one part reminder, one part distraction.

It’s strange how he always hated responsibility, but with the suit, he doesn’t mind it. Quite the opposite, in fact. Having the suit feels right, and so does what it implies. It’s a hard decision nonetheless because he knows it’s not right, despite what he’s feeling. He’s not the right person for this, obviously. But he’s not sure there is a right person in existence, after all. Still, there are better candidates.

Tony shouldn’t be this selfish. He shouldn’t be this mistrustful but after Obie’s confession and everything before that he can’t be anything else.

And when he sees the news reports about Gulmira, he can’t stand it.

He flies out.

It feels good and heroic and awful and tiring and selfish at the same time, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Now he understands why Rhodey is so excited about his Air Force days. For the first time, he understands the lovers of the sky, because being embraced by the endless blue air, knowing there are no limits and he can do anything, he can go anywhere, is better than to be drunk.

It’s like a dream.

Waking is inevitable, and it comes sooner than Tony expected it. The fighter jets are unpleasant, but not completely surprising, and Tony feels ready to deal with them. He feels ready until he accidentally damages one of them and he sees the pilot pummeling toward the ground without a parachute.

He counts the seconds in silence, only accompanied by the sound of his own ragged breath. It should be open by now. It’s not working!

Tony feels the panic creeping in. It’s an American soldier, one of their own boys, falling into a certain death, because of Tony’s irresponsibility. An innocent man doing his job who shouldn't die because Tony has a savior complex.

Tony dives after him without thinking. Projectiles zip around him, the other pilot even lands some hits but he doesn’t care, he’s trusting the armor of the suit, his own work when he can't trust anyone else, and he’s focusing on one and only thing: to catch that boy before it’s too late. He speeds up to maximum and he gets dizzy and disoriented because of the sudden height drop but he doesn’t care. It’s his job. It’s his duty. It’s his responsibility.

He’s ready for it.

He hits the release mechanism with an armored fist while still plummeting toward the ground with full speed and suddenly the soldier is not there, the parachute has opened and Tony needs three seconds in freefall before he’s ready to believe it and start flying upwards again as well.

He cries out triumphantly and launches himself homeward and he calls Rhodey’s name on the phone and he can’t help but laugh and joke with him.

His blood sings. He feels alive and free and content.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

***

The next surprise waiting for him has the form of a very unhappy James, who looks absolutely pissed, and a confused and concerned and sad Yinsen, both of them waiting for him in the workshop.

Tony barely lands, can’t even free himself from the damaged suit when James grabs his arm and throws him - with the fuckton weight of the suit still on him, holy shit! - onto the couch and then he’s above him and sneers into his face when he opens up the helmet.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Tony gapes, amazed and terrified by the raw intensity of the emotions on James’s features and the sudden shock of the assault on him. He tries to raise his arm but James is actually kneeling on him and Tony doesn’t want to hurt him, so he stays put.

Maybe I should be panicking, he thinks, but it's James, and James is incapable of lying, a few months ago James was barely functioning as a human being, he can't betray Tony as well, he just can't, Tony refuses to be afraid of him. James is a good man.

“What’s your problem?” he hears himself saying and it feels as if his mouth is working without his permission, still high from the adrenaline.

“There was a reporter in the area, Stark. The TV didn’t broadcast video footage, so there’s probably none, but the description was very detailed,” Yinsen explained in his oddly calm and unnervingly sad tone. “You went to Gulmira.”

James shifts his weight and relies on the couch cushions instead of Tony’s limbs. He’s grateful for it. He lifts his hand and tries to remove the helmet, but it’s screwed to him securely and without Jarvis’s help he can’t do it, so he lets his hands fall back. Two pairs of eyes follow every movement and Tony suddenly feels sick and captured again. Their gaze is a more solid weight than James’s body above him.

“I won’t apologize for it,” he states after he can’t delay it any longer. “Noone else would help them.”

“Who gave you the mission?” James demands answer, and Tony stares back. At least the faceplate doesn’t block his view, so he can do that freely.

“The fuck? No one. I decided!”

James radiates his disapproval and anger. That’s not surprising, because he was overly protective even before Afghanistan and especially after that. Tony’s not an idiot, he knows that lately James watched over everything that happened in the house almost as effectively as Jarvis. The former Soldier guarded Tony day and night, following him around or sitting in front of his door or observing his meetings with others, and he was even willing to participate in the gala for the sake of defending Tony.

It was one part creepy and two parts reassuring, because Tony really felt protected. He believed James is able to keep him safe, at least he believed it most of the time, when anxiety or panic wasn’t lurking too close. So it’s not surprising that James was upset over his disappearance and the dangerous stunt he pulled in the other side of the globe without a warning beforehand. Tony wasn’t really prepared for this fight with him, but at least he expected it.

What he didn’t expect that him showing up in Gulmira would draw out Yinsen from his room and that it would make him angry at Tony as well.

“You shouldn’t risk yourself, Stark!” the doctor says, and his quiet words hold more emotion than ever since he woke up in the mansion.

Tony frowns and tries to make sense of all of this mess.

“I saved people. I thought that’s what you meant back there,” he answers slowly, offended, and with hurt and sarcasm audible in his voice, and Yinsen’s face morphs into something resentful and James might take Tony’s proclamation as a challenge because he growls. He shakes Tony’s arm, muscles and armor trapped between metal fingers.

“You must be protected, Mechanic!”

“I am protected, I’m covered in a fucking metal suit from top to bottom, what else do you want?!”

James growls again, and his flesh hand moves and his fingers trace dents on the suit that are left by bullets, but stays mute, probably struggling internally to find the right words. Yinsen needs a few silent seconds, too, but he overcomes his conflict sooner, and he steps closer and looks down at Tony.

“No, this is not at all what I wanted for you, Stark,” he sighs. “I wanted you to be better than me. I wanted you to live. I worked hard to make sure you’ll live instead of me.” He locks his eyes with Tony’s and he’s stern and strong and proud while he’s soft and sad and resigned as well and he makes Tony’s heart ache, like James did with his sad puppy eyes back then.

Why does he find the sad ones and why must he get attached to them this easily?!

“I don’t expect you to throw your life away, Stark,” Yinsen finishes quietly, and at this point James’s hand caress his face gently.

James looks at Yinsen for a moment then back to Tony. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tony’s heart leaps and his breath is caught in his chest.

Yinsen nods. “Think about it for a while,” he suggests, and leaves the workshop, probably to return to his room, and Tony’s eyes follow him until he disappears, but then he has no more excuses and he has to look back at James.

James looks concerned and confused and his eyes are filled with unspoken emotions that Tony maybe understands without words, but he still has to ask.

“Are you worried because of the Mechanic, or because of me?”

James frowns and seemingly struggles with comprehending the question. Tony doesn’t help, doesn’t rephrase himself, he just… he needs to know. If he’s nothing more than a Mechanic… he doesn’t even want to imagine that, because James means way more to him than the engineering puzzle of a metal arm. He’s still not sure what exactly this more means, beside the words (warm and home and protection and such) that rattle in his mind if he tries to associate James with anything.

It would be silly to deny that he feels better whenever James is near, that he sleeps better since he knows James is watching over him, that he is protected and wants to protect in return, that he has someone who cares and with whom he cares too. His question is if it’s a lie.

If this feeling of protected and cared for and - maybe, even - loved is true and aimed toward him, or if it’s only a lie of two tortured men’s broken illusion of human connection.

James pulls him out of his depressing thoughts by clearing his throat.

“You are the Mechanic,” he states, first, but he takes a deep breath to continue and Tony’s holding his breath. James’s slow but steady. “You are useful. You are mission support. But.” He takes a break again then goes on anyway. “You are important beyond that. If you… don’t want it… I can find someone else. For being a mechanic. And you’ll still be the mission. The one to protect.”

Tony shivers and wants to weep but he smiles instead. “You are creepy again,” he whispers.

James’s smile is shy in return. “You are important because of you,” he finishes also in a whisper.

Tony suddenly lifts his hands and hugs him and James loses his balance and he falls from his knees to lay on Tony and owww, he’s fucking heavy even with the armor helping to hold up his weight, but it’s sweet and Tony doesn’t want to let him go.

James tenses up then relaxes and lays motionless and he barely breathes.

It’s uncomfortable, but maybe neither of them wants to end it. Still, they have to. Tony has to, because he knows James is not the type to complain, so he grunts.

“Okay, let me strip out of all this metal first, then we can continue,” he mumbles, and as soon as he releases his hold James stands up and steps back and settles into parade rest like a soldier waiting for further orders.

Tony wants to say something nice. Instead, he hears himself saying, “You know, I had dreams like that but with way less clothes on,” and he wants to sink. Usually he’s not bad with words but look at him now.

James stares at him and his eyes go horrified.

“Your nightmares? They’re about me?”

Before Tony could correct that, Jarvis warns.

“Sir, Miss Potts…”

“Shit!” Tony jumps to his feet. He invited Pepper over earlier, before he decided to go to Gulmira, and it seems too late to bail now. And it would be rude to lock her out too.

When Tony looks up to James, the man is not there anymore. He’s pretty sure Jarvis could show him where he hides, but he doesn’t ask for it.

“Dammit, I hate when you play ghost on me,” he only mutters and walks to the right spot for Jarvis to pull apart the suit from him.

It was really getting uncomfortable by now anyway.

***

When Pepper leaves, James doesn’t emerge from the shadows right away, and Tony rolls his eyes. Now that Pepper will help him to deal with the company - even if in a slightly illegal way, but, whatever, life’s not perfect and it’s the right thing to do -, he feels more lighthearted and he wants to laugh. It will be alright soon. He’ll deal with the illegal weapon sales by himself.

He whistles, loudly. “Hey, gorgeous.” When no answer arrives, Tony rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Great Ass, don’t be shy. I swear if you were a transformer, you'd be a hot-o-bot, and you'd be called Optimus Fine!”

Of course, James doesn’t get the reference, because apparently Tony was too busy with other stuff to work on his pop culture knowledge which, by the way, is closer to zero than to anything else. Still, it’s enough for him to reappear, at least Tony thinks he sees him for a brief moment before the glint of light on a metal hand’s surface disappears again.

“I'd like to point out that "beautiful" has U in it,” Tony tries, and sadly, You’s suddenly excited headbanging sounds more enthusiastic than James, who is in front of Tony the next second and looks at him with a frown.

“What are you doing?”

Tony gives him his best seductive smile and suppresses a laugh at his confusion and goes on with the lines that are basically jokes because they’re so terrible even by his standards, and he really could make any bad line work to pick up a partner back in his playboy days.

“Baaaaby, if you were a fruit you'd be a fineapple,” Tony singsongs, and James’s features soften and he smiles and Tony’s partly satisfied with it. He pats Kidnapper on his shoulder.

“I'm writing a phone book, can I have your number?”

James frowns again. “I don’t have a number.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Tony says instead of addressing how cute James is when he’s clueless.

Because he definitely is and he’s starting to seem lost too as he asks in total confusion, “What?”

“I swear I have a sign somewhere that says NO SMOKING.” Tony waits only for a heartbeat, then grins. “And you are definitely smokin’.”

There’s a momentary pause and then… it’s an overachievement even by Tony’s wildest dreams because…

James doesn’t just smile, doesn’t just tilt his head or quirk his lips in amusement, doesn’t just relax the muscles in his shoulder. That would be the normal thing for him. But no, that is not the case now.

James, for the first time since Tony’s known him, bursts out in a howling laughter. It’s shocking and great and Tony lits up and he has to laugh a bit with him because that sound is like the nicest thing he has heard in a really long time. It’s sweet, and James throws his head back and he has wrinkles around his eyes and he scrunches his nose and it’s so careless and joyful that Tony wants to cry a bit, and right now James is the most beautiful and familiar thing he has seen, and he saw this often because—

Because.

His thoughts halt at this point, and Tony has to mentally backpedal a bit. Yes, James is familiar - of course, he is, they practically lived together for months now, it would be weird if he wasn’t familiar, why is that a big deal?

Because this sensation’s older than that, it has more prelude than that, and Tony finally really looks at James and the true impact of the realization hits him like that tank’s missile did not so long ago. He… he knew James.

He knew him before he was James, before he was Scary Kidnapper Guy, before everything.

He knew him since he was a little kid, he knew James before he knew how to read a book or build a circuit board. He just knew him by another name.

Everything falls into place and somehow at the same time it falls apart as well because it’s impossible, but also it explains so much, this was the real reason behind James’s features being so familiar when he first took off the mask, not that they spent time together, it was the real reason why his eyes always felt that intimate from day one, that’s why…

Because Tony knew him. He heard about him, he learned about him. Because he was a war hero, because he was dead, because he was a martyr, because he was Cap’s best friend and savior.

Tony knew him all his life, from stories and pictures and newsreels. How did he not recognize him? Tony is breathless, speechless, and helpless.

“Bucky,” he blurts it out, stunned and amazed and shocked, and James’s laugh is cut short (and Tony’d mourn the loss if he wasn’t in shock himself) and he looks like he’s been hit too and he frets, his muscles suddenly all tense, and his eyes are filled with horror as he looks at Tony, but Tony can’t stop himself now. “You’re Bucky Barnes.”

They are motionless for a second while Tony feels like the whole universe holds its breath and waits for the reply, but it never comes because James lets out a sudden, painful cry, presses his palms to his temples and he collapses to the ground and lays there.

Tony stares at him, and he can’t move either. Bucky Barnes, his childhood hero. The one he adored when loving Cap became too big, too much, too overwhelming under Howard’s constant pressure; the one Tony became so attached to the more he heard about him. Bucky Barnes, Cap’s loyal sidekick, just like Tony wanted to be. The young boy of the comics who helped Cap through everything. The young man from reality - from documentaries and shows and everything -, the best friend, who always had Cap’s back. The amazing person Aunt Peggy always talked about with the greatest respect.

How hasn’t he recognized him?

Or maybe he did? In some way or another, without his mind consciously entertaining the possibility. After all, Barnes was dead. He should have been dead, and… and James wasn’t the same but at the same time he was, and he is a very different man. Ana Jarvis always called Bucky, not Cap, the ‘sunshine boy’ when she saw him on the recordings, because Bucky always smiled or laughed. He was bright and happy, at least as happy as any soldier could be at those times.

James was the complete opposite of someone called ‘sunshine boy’.

But his laugh was the same.

And Tony recognized it. He wouldn’t miss it from a mile, it was his favorite sound for a while, he fell asleep to Bucky’s laugh as a kid more than times than even he could count, when he was upset or scared or sad – or wanted a morale boost. (Yeah, that was before he discovered classic rock.) He knows that nose scrunch, he knows these features, he knows he’s not mistaking it for someone else, but… he has absolutely zero ideas how this could be possible.

Bucky Barnes is dead.

But James Sad-Eyed Kidnapper Guy is Bucky Barnes.

And he’s right here in the workshop, very much alive, at least if the discovery didn’t kill him somehow. Well, if a few hundred feet fall to a fucking Swiss ravine didn’t kill the guy then muttering his name surely won’t either, Tony reassures himself. Of course he sees that his fucking childhood sidekick hero is breathing, he won’t fall to the same mistake as he did with Yinsen. The thought brings him out of his shock. At least to the degree of moving, to kneel down and check pulse and everything.

James seems unconscious but otherwise fine.

Well, definitely fine for a hundred years old walking corpse.

He can’t process it, not really, he has to find the reason, because this is insane, it’s both a dream and a nightmare and basically it’s just insane.

But first and foremost he has to deal with James’s - Bucky’s? - state, so he calls for his bots to help him move to the couch at least. That will definitely be more comfortable than lying on the floor. For starters. And then he can start to figure things out while he’s waiting for him to get better. (What else should he do? Definitely not panicking or geeking out.)

Tony arranges James’s limbs on the couch and then goes upstairs to get a drink. Or more. Maybe a whole bottle or something.

Bucky Fucking Barnes is in his workshop.

What even is his life.

 

Chapter 11: Bucky-James

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera

Notes:

Hang on, we're almost there! :)
All warnings that apply to the end of the Iron Man movie probably apply here as well.
P.s.: Pepper is stressed, don't be hard on her. Neither on James. They really try their best.

 It’s like a blade directly stabbing through his mind.

He was not prepared for it. He doubts he would have ever been prepared for it, but it was so sudden and unexpected - the whole day was full with ups and downs of intense emotions, first with the worry and arguing then with the touches and the confession about nightmares and Pott’s intervention and Tony’s lighthearted comments and in the end, this.

That name.

James is pretty sure he heard the name Bucky Barnes a million times before - probably in that life that feels like a dream, the life that’s supposed to exist before he was made. Before he was the Asset of the handlers and the Winter Soldier of Mother Russia and the Fist of Hydra and all those now meaningless, empty titles. Before he became this, and from whom, he had no idea while he was with the handlers. He’s pretty sure by now that Bucky Barnes existed once, probably in a happier and more peaceful time period, because his memories are filled with joy and warmth and the images of the beach-blond boy with bright blue eyes, and with little girls laughing and riding piggyback and with work that has nothing to do with violence and…

So many things James knows nothing about, but he remembers them anyway, so many things that feel alien and familiar, normal and outstanding at once.

The name is a memento.

The name was said to him probably a million times. James thinks he can recall some of them: the blond boy, the little girl, the mother, the comrades all said this name differently, and yet he answered them, until he didn’t.

But Tony never called him Bucky Barnes. He called him many things - Top Gun and Scary Guy and such nicknames -, and he constantly returned to James, but never… this.

Until now.

And it’s more shocking than anything else they’ve done so far, more surprising and more thrilling and more terrifying than James could ever imagine. It’s a threat, clear and simple, one whose nature is hidden from James yet, but its presence is more than palpable.

Where did the Mechanic hear about Barnes? How did he even know about this name, let alone know that it once belonged to James’s former self? (If that’s even true…)

Does this mean James will not be enough from now on? It’s a distress James had for a while now: that he should be more than… well, more than himself. A fear that even as the world’s most lethal weapon he’s somehow not enough. He may have the best skills and the perfect mission body count but somehow James should be more, and maybe Tony wants even more than what James could ever be.

It’s absurd, of course. Who could wish more than control over the Winter Soldier? Handlers killed one another for this privilege, organizations rose up and toppled down for this sole purpose, scientists dedicated their life to recreate the miracle of the Asset. (Some of them came close, some of them died without reaching any result.)

But James is not the Soldier anymore. The malfunctions incorporated themselves into his very being, and the Asset can’t function fully with them, so James has to be something different - if it’s more or less, he’s not sure, but it’s there -, and James is…

James is…

James may be a human, after all.

Fallible and imperfect, but at the same time better and stronger at different areas of expertise. He has emotions. If he could learn to use them properly - to channel them to his cause, like he did with rage sometimes - he may be even… even…

James is not sure of how this sentence can be finished, but there’s one thing he’s sure: Tony calling him Bucky Barnes is among the most shocking moments of his life - of all of his lives -, and it may be among the most painful ones as well.

It’s the last straw, probably, the last drop of water, and it overflows everything without any warning. James’s mind is set on fire, and his body becomes stiff and his muscles tense up like he’s about to jolt but he doesn’t have a single ounce of control over himself, it’s like after the Chair again, he’s just passing by in his body - but at least this time he knows it’s his body, it’s his mind that shatters like glass under a powerful hit.

He knows one more thing: Tony will take care of him. He hopes that causing this state was not intentional, but he’s sure that he can trust his Mechanic.

And he knows that he, James concluded this comprehension and it has nothing to do with the Asset, nor this Bucky-person.

It’s terrifying, but at the same time he’s not afraid as darkness comes and he withdraws into himself, draws back his consciousness from the situation to be able to work the mess out. He needs time for it. He needs to… he doesn’t know what he actually needs but he can’t stay, he can’t bear the impact, he needs a break. So he lets go of everything and greets the black nothing with familiarity.

***

While he’s out, he dreams.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. He had a brave heart of a lion, a kind heart of a saint, and the world was not ready for him so his soul was imprisoned in a fail and fragile body.

He was beside the boy and he protected him from every outer threat and encouraged him to overcome his own boundaries. The blond boy had a huge heart but he needed someone to hold onto, and He was ready to be this person to him. He was willing to stand behind him through everything, and being with this boy made him a better person as well.

They were struggling, but they were together and it was enough to be happy.

Then things changed, a war came, and they were separated, and everything started to blur into uncertainty from that point. None of them had the other to rely on and none of them had the other to protect, and it made both of them reckless.

The boy became big and strong, he got a body that suited his huge heart full of bravery and kindness, but he was sad and lonely without him.

He became wild and hard and lonely, either in caring or in killing, a force to count on, a wolf-like one that relied on no other.

But they were reunited, and the boy softened him again and He made the boy more human again, and the world fell back into its right place and being together was enough for a while.

But the universe was never a place of kindness and it decided to separate them again. He tried to reach for the boy’s hand but it was far away even when they brushed their fingers together, almost there but never really enough, and He fell.

He fell, and He was lonely again, more than ever, and the wolf-like one in him had eaten him up almost completely, and He was out of himself for a long, long time.

There was a boy but that boy was lost, and He had to learn to live without him, and it made him cruel and others used him for their causes, others lied and relied on him,  used and abused him, and it took a long, long time to be able to run away from them.

He’s still running.

But there is a man. This man has a big heart as well, but he has a hole in it, a wound that can never be healed fully. The man’s whole but broken, and the man is the first one he can rely on again.

He may never be whole again, and may never be healed, but He can tame the wolf-like one in him, if this man is by his side to help him and to accept his help in return, because the need is mutual, like it was once. The man with a hole in his heart needs someone to rely on as well.

He may be ready to give up his defenses enough to be there and be relied on again.

***

James has no idea for how long is he lost in his own mind. It feels like a fever, like the experiments: his body is on fire but he’s cold at the same time, he can feel something alien craving in his veins but he’s unable to pinpoint the feeling, he is aware of his body being moved and laid down in a comfortable position then being left alone, but it’s like he’s far away as well.

He has his own work to do, and it has nothing to do with the physical realm of reality as it’s entirely inside him. Whether it’s a mind or a soul or something he has no word for, it’s a huge job, and he takes the time that’s needed, because he’s aware of the importance of the task, of how crucial it is to figure some answers out before he’ll be able to resurface again, and what he finds inside may determine everything after this point.

He’d probably be out for more longer, but he’s not given time for that. His instincts are working beyond conscious thoughts, and he senses before he knows when he needs to be battle-ready, and it’s happening now. He registers clattering noises, painful moans, the sharp sound of shattered glass.

He rolls to his feet, uncertain and confused, but already on defense, and he takes at least a minute to examine his surroundings, to recognize the workshop and the bots and to identify the origin of the hard panting.

But when he does it helps to clear his head, to brush aside the cobwebs of dreams and questions and answers, because it’s Tony, and he may not be able to form articulated sentences about his Mechanic at the moment, but he knows they need each other with the man and James needs to protect him as much as Tony will try to do the same in return.

He’s beside his Mechanic and he has no recollection of when and how he went there but it doesn’t matter. Tony is on his back and he looks awful and he’s unconscious and—

There’s the hole in his chest. The empty case of the glowing device that should be there to keep him alive. James’s blood runs cold until he notices Dummy’s pointed gestures toward the ground. Among the shattered pieces of glass, there is a device - a reactor, not as shiny and new as the one Potts installed to Tony’s chest not so long ago, but it doesn’t matter. It’s battered like the person who needs it, it went through much but survived all of it.

James grabs the device.

He knows he can’t install it: they’ve already tried that. He halts for a brief moment, stunned and frightened, because he has to help, Tony needs it, but he doesn’t know how.

And the Bucky-person appears in his mind without warning, and he whispers: find the way or create one if it’s needed. That’s what that old self would have done in a situation similar to this. The Soldier would be determined as well but in a sterile way, while Bucky would do anything passionately and for others.

For the first time, James is able to understand the Bucky-person and he doesn’t want to distance himself from him. Quite the opposite. He takes a deep breath. Okay.

He arranges the wires like Tony showed him last time, and he prepares himself, and it might be a violent way to do the job and will probably hurt both of them, but it will save Tony’s life. He shoves his hand into the gaping hole of Tony’s chest, and he feels the spasms ringing in his muscles as his metal arm and the case of the reactor gets into contact and it zips through his nervous system completely.

His fingers twitch uncontrollably, but he forces himself through the movements, he tries his best to ignore the electricity running through him as his artificial limb goes numb and he manages to connect that damned wire to its place and the electromagnet whirs into life, sucking his hand into the hole and Bucky has to use his flesh hand to drag it out inch by inch because the other one is so numb by the various impulses and his whole left side has pins and needles as his brain tries to cope with the unsettling alignment. When he’s finally able to put that thing into place he almost crumbles by relief. He sits on the floor, and he doesn’t feel his side at all at this point and he may freak out later because of it but right now he’s busy frantically checking Tony’s pulse and breathing every second to make sure he wasn’t late.

When Tony sucks in a deep breath and opens his eyes James sighs audibly. “Thank god,” he mutters, and sinks back into himself a bit more and he doesn’t stop to think about the expression and where it even came from.

“James,” his Mechanic croaks and James forces his flesh hand to reach out and cup his face like they did so many times by now. The touch is reassuring for both of them, usually. It probably has good effects now as well because Tony clambers on him and sits up. “You’re awake. We have to stop him, where’s Pepper?”

“Stop.” James needs answers to work with because he has no idea how Tony ended up on the workshop’s floor with his heart literally ripped out. He takes one break and everything goes to hell. “What happened?”

Tony still holds onto his arm and starts to get up. It’s funny, because James is still half numb from his encounter with the ARC-reactor and the zaps his arm got, so he has similar problems, though he regains his balance sooner.

“Obie. He ordered the hit on me and he has a suit and he’s after Pepper - oh my God he’s after her, we have to stop him!”

James’s grip hardens and Tony snarls.

“Please don’t say ‘I told you so’ because I’m really not in the mood,” Tony says through gritted teeth and he walks toward the suit nearly independently by this time while James’s left hand is still a useless dead weight on him but he doesn’t care about that right now because rage makes him see red.

He wants to kill that bastard personally, and luckily he has the necessary skillset to do exactly that, even in this weary state.

He starts to think more rationally when he sees that Tony’s getting the suit on. What?!

“You stay here, I’ll deal with it,” James hears himself say. He still has the Asset inside him even if he isn’t the Asset himself anymore, so he’s absolutely capable of taking care of this problem, no need to endanger his Mechanic who was lying half dead on the floor not two minutes ago.

Tony doesn’t stop, though, and James abruptly looks up, because System didn’t say or do anything since he woke up and it’s unnerving. Then he remembers Obadiah Stane is the enemy right now and he probably has some kind of access to Jarvis and he might have done something with System and if he wouldn’t be already mad at him on Tony’s behalf he’d be now for the AI.

“No. He has a suit as well. He needed my reactor for that,” Tony explains quickly and he’s almost ready. “I have him. He’s after Pepper, you have to keep her safe!”

It’s not exactly an order and James doesn’t need to remind himself anymore that Tony’s not a handler. He could never be a handler, honestly. He’s way more than that, and his words make James halt and actually think about it.

Potts is important and she should be protected, that’s clear as ever. James is half paralyzed and there’s no time to repair his arm. He’s still among the most dangerous things out there, but he’s so far from peak condition it’s painful to just think about it. Tony is not more wholesome either at the moment, but his body heals itself while the metal arm does not. It’s not without reason to let him fight, but…

But James doesn’t want him to be in any danger.

It’s a dilemma without any good outcome.

“Can’t you keep Potts safe and let me deal with…?” he starts but Tony shakes his head firmly, nearly suited up by now.

“It’s my mess, I have to…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, though, and he reaches to put the helmet on as well and James can’t hold himself back, he steps closer and caresses his face again, but then he lets go.

“I’m driving.”

“I can fl—”

“You are going to battle, you’ll need your strength. We’ll be fast,” James promises, and leads him to the car they used before, and makes him sit on the passenger seat, then he jumps to the driver side above the car and slips in before Tony could protest. “I’ll keep Potts safe,” he promises while he starts off.

Tony lets out a relieved sigh, and grabs his phone to call Rhodes.

***

They barely miss the Colonel heading toward the mansion. James lets out a sigh at that, because he really doesn’t have patience now for anyone else, and really, Rhodes down there in the workshop, finding Tony at that state with only him close by to blame… he really doesn’t feel sorry for missing out on that disaster. (Well, him and Yinsen, but Yinsen never comes out of his room if he can help it, so he doesn't really count.) Tony explains some things during their call - not much and in a very brief style especially for him, which shows just how much distress he’s still in -, and promises some more, and instruct the other soldier to ‘keep the skies clear’.

James doesn’t really care about this part because the conversation reminds him of one tiny detail: he doesn’t have the proper mission gear on him. Namely, he has only one gun and three knives stashed on him, but that’s okay, he could work with none if necessary, everything and anything can be a weapon in his hand, even in his right hand.

But.

But he has no mask on, and he promised to watch over Potts and it most likely means necessary contact with the target.

Fuck.

James throttles his sudden anxiety by driving - thanks for automatic gear shift - even more madly and Tony it makes whistle approvingly beside him. Tony notices his state and tries to repair the arm while they're on their way but the most he can do is disconnecting it even further so the pain stops at least. James appreciates it anyway.

***

They’re still sort of late.

Tony bursts out of the car before James has the chance to properly slow down - actually, he didn’t plan to slow down properly anyway, so it’s a good call, and he maybe crashed the vehicle to the wall a bit, but whatever, it was effective, and that’s the most important thing now, because right after Rhodey Tony tried to call Potts and she didn’t answer her phone. (Tony almost jumped out of the car then and there.) James takes a few seconds to just watch the events, to stare at as Tony encounters the thing that probably has Stane in it, with his heartbeat drumming in his ears and bile rising in his throat, before he's able to remind himself of his own task.

The building is half demolished. James grabs the gun with his working hand and tries to move his metal fingers but the zapping did some serious damage because the limb is still unresponsive and it’s heavy, takes him off-balance and he scowls while he enters the building cautiously. He starts at a disadvantage, he has to make sure to be smarter than a possible enemy.

Which is hard to do because almost all his thoughts orbit around Tony right now and the sheer need to abandon the mission he agreed on, to go and help his Mechanic instead of Potts. He just witnessed Tony crashing himself into a fucking huge robot thing, something that has an eerie resemblance to the Mechanic’s own suit but is also an abomination version of it, and that enemy agent was almost three times the size of Tony in his shiny red-and-gold armor.

Winning is never a matter of size, but for some precious moments, James has to fight everything in him to stop from running over and try to save that idiot. Also, he’d really like to note one day that picking up on guys twice your size and throwing yourself literally in front of their fists or weapons is definitely not a winning strategy.

The pattern is so fucking familiar the Bucky-person almost loses his shit and James has to reach for the Asset a bit harder to keep that part of him under control. But he stays in control and he turns away from the robots’ fight. He has to trust his Mechanic again, trust him to know what he’s doing and not killing himself in the process of stopping Stane. He has to trust Tony enough to follow his lead, not because Tony expects it, but because it’s the right thing to do. At least James hopes it really is, and the Bucky-person inside him agrees, and even the Soldier doesn’t have many objections, so that might be a positive sign. Or the sure indicator of a disaster.

James listens to the engines roar as he enters the building.

The floor is littered with corpses. Finding Potts is easy, and thankfully she’s still alive and moving. She kneels next to one of the bodies when James rounds the corner - one that wears a once black suit which is ruined by some kind of impact that hit it’s wearer earlier -, and checks the pulse. Based on her horrified face she probably finds nothing.

James’s steps don’t make any sound and he cautiously inspects their environment before holstering his gun and closing the distance between him and the woman.

He should have given her a warning earlier, because when he clears his throat a few steps away from Potts, she makes a little scream, jumps to her feet and spins on her heels - respectably high heels, what the hell, lady, do you know anything about practicalities? Though it probably can be used to stab someone in the heart -  and moreover, she’s actually holding up something.

Normally James would block an assault like that without even thinking. The problem is, he tries to do so now, but his left hand doesn’t rise when his mind commands it, which he realizes a little belatedly. He has time only to yank his head to the side when Ms. Pepper Potts blows pepper spray into his face. And because of that damned malfunction she partially succeeds, and James’s left eye begins to water instantly.

Well, at least from now on he knows that he actually has working tear ducts. Any other time he’d be interested in this discovery, but right now it’s just plain irritating. But it means this woman singlehandedly landed an attack on the infamous Winter Soldier, the most effective assassin of the century and all. With a pepper spray. So James is more than impressed under his annoyance and makes a mental note to compliment her later.

At least it’s his left eye. His left side is useless anyway at the moment. He tries to focus.

“Stop!” James orders firmly. “Tony sent me.” And, after a brief pause, he adds, "Ma'am."

“Oh my god,” Potts drops the bottle and she is visibly freaking out with every passing second and it makes James worried and even nervous. She is supposed to be collected, to be the authority figure that made the Asset want to obey by simply watching her. This Potts is far from that woman: the current events might be too much even for her to shake them off. She’s a civilian, after all. A civilian, whose one boss turns out to be a knight in not-so-shining armor, her other boss turns out to be an evil son of a bitch but with also some sort of armor, and her co-workers were just murdered in front of her eyes, probably by her evil boss’s hands. In any other situation James might have been more sympathetic toward her, but now? Now he wants nothing more than to make sure she’s safe so he can focus on someone else.

In the same heartbeat when these thoughts cross his mind Potts lifts her hands to press her palms to her temple but the movement breaks halfway when she actually sees James.

More so, the metal arm.

She freezes and can’t tear her eyes away from it, her mouth forms words inaudibly - possibly in the range of “what the fuck” or something similar, but James doesn’t take the trouble to read it from her lips. He sighs impatiently.

“We have to go,” he stresses, and steps closer to grab her arm but she backs away hastily, nearly tripping over the corpse. Her breaths are ragged - she’s probably in shock or something, and James has no idea what to do with her. Maybe he could strangle her into unconsciousness, but he has no doubts that Tony didn’t mean this when he asked James to take care of Potts.

“Who do you think you—?” Potts starts, her voice higher than usual, and he sees when she slides her hand into the pocket of her skirt.

“Stark sent me,” James repeats himself, and he pointedly looks at her hidden hand. James really tries his best to stay patient, but the noise of battle is receding and he nearly goes nuts by not knowing what is happening and if Tony can handle it or not. He should be there. He should help his Mechanic. Instead, he’s here trying to reason with someone who is really not in the right mindset for any reasoning. “Don’t call anyone. It’s my job to escort you to safety.” He realizes belatedly that he switched to the dull, emotionless voice of the Soldier, and the woman’s eyes widen in realization. But when she speaks she doesn’t aim her words at him.

“Coulson! The agents—”

James is there in an instant and shuts her up by pressing his hand on her mouth, muffling all sounds.

He’d really need both of his hands, for fuck’s sake, and Potts is biting him and tries to hit him, and James scowls.

“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses. His left side barely registers her fist. “I want to help him, not deal with you!”

Her sharp gaze snaps at him and she freezes, then slowly nods. The voice in her earbuds keeps calling her name, then it abruptly announces: “I’m coming over myself!” which presents its own sack of problems, but James decides to deal with them when they arrive, later. He distances his palm from her mouth then he strikes and snatches the phone from her pocket, from under her fingers, and ends the call before she has the chance to regroup herself and warn the unknown man.

“It’s you!” she cries out. “Your voice, you— you called me before— it’s you!”

James can hear an explosion from outside and he twitches with the urge to run there.

He stares back at Potts, challenging. The effect is probably more or less ruined by the fact that he’s still half weeping from the spray, not like he cares about that - he has decades of practice in ignoring his own body’s distress signals. “Follow me now,” he orders instead of answering.

“Who the hell are you?!”

James turns halfway around and looks back at her. “You really want to discuss it here and now?!” He doesn’t show around the dead bodies, the half-ruined building and everything, but only because of the metal arm’s malfunction. “Let’s go!” So I can come back sooner, he doesn’t say but he thinks. The sounds - or, right now, the lack of them - makes him on edge, and Potts doesn’t help ease it.

“We have to check if there’s…” the woman glances over the corpses uncertainly, and James’s gaze sweeps them over quickly. Whoever run amok here did a great job and was effective. Messy, but effective.

“They’re dead.” He doesn’t really care about them. It’s not like he could go back in time and change anything. He grabs Potts’s arm and starts to lead her away and this time she protests only mildly, nothing that James couldn’t handle.

When they’re finally out and James starts to think he’s gonna be able to do his task in the operation, he hears the Mechanic’s tiny voice from the woman’s earphone: apparently, a StarkPhone doesn’t need its owner’s actions to receive a call from Jarvis, good to know.

Her first words to Tony are literally “Are you okay?” which earns at least two hundred bonus points for her, but he doesn’t let go of her arm and doesn’t let her steps falter. He has to escort her out and he’s doing that, that’s the mission, he’s good at fulfilling missions, right?

Tony starts to answer but he’s cut off abruptly by Stane and James has self-discipline but it only lasts up to this point. The sounds make it very clear that his Mechanic is in real danger, probably in life-threatening scale. He should have been dealing with Stane by now otherwise.

James grips the phone and dials and doesn’t give the opportunity to actually getting an answer. “System, get Yinsen here ASAP, he’s needed.” He tosses the phone into his own pocket then turns to Potts. “He’ll explain the situation, you get out of here and stay clear!”

He trusts Tony’s judgment, but he can’t do shit to Potts, she’ll need medical attention and something for her shock but she’s not in any kind of physical danger, nothing threatens her for James to handle. They’re at a safe distance from the wrecked company building, especially if Stane will be handled soon, for which James has high hopes. He takes out a knife and holds it out by the blade with the hilt toward her.

Potts hesitates for a moment, then she laces her fingers around the handle.

James takes a chance and smiles at her. She used the pepper spray good, she proved herself to be quick and effective, she managed to surprise the fucking Asset, so he assumes she’ll defend herself from anybody else as well. She’ll be good. She won’t be in danger anyway. Potts looks him dead in the eyes - which stopped watering at some point without James even noticing it - and she briefly nods, like she reads his mind and wants to reassure him of his decision.

So James considers his work done with her.

The moment of understanding and connection breaks immediately as James turns away and starts to run back.

Potts is at safe distance and has a weapon to protect herself if necessary. Tony, on the other hand, is in imminent danger, and James simply can’t stay put in circumstances like these. He doesn’t look back at the woman as he sprints toward the stairs, every drop of his enhanced speed forced into his rush. He has to get there in time. He has to save his Mechanic, he has to help him.

The phone in his pocket signs and James picks it up immediately.

“Potts,” Tony whispers on the other side of the line.

“Tony!” Pepper cries out the same time as James says, “It’s me.” So the earbuds are still working.

James has to stop because at least two floors distance is missing from the stairs and he has to find a new way up, so he has time to listen. Tony talks about the reactor and his plan very briefly. Which can basically be summarized as fuck shit up by blowing up the reactor at the ground floor so it will somehow ruin Stane’s suit? James is not sure he gets all the details but it sounds like that, and while he may not get the big picture he understands the instructions and steps that have to be done for the plan to work. Which presents a new dilemma: where could James possibly help more. It’s obvious that Tony can’t win against the robotized version of Stane, so as a backup his presence on the roof is more than required, but at the same time Potts didn’t sound confident at all and James doesn’t trust her in her current state like he trusts his Mechanic - who is he kidding, he never trusts anyone like his Mechanic, at least no one alive -, so he should also go down and make sure that she can do her part. He growls in his anger, and he knows both options can be effective or disastrous as well, but the worst he can do is to stay here struggling with decisions.

But with so much at stake…

The Asset would follow orders, that’s clear and tempting. What would the Bucky-person do?

He’d do what the blond boy would. Not so helpful at the moment. He’d save them. Thanks, asshole, that’s the plan, the question is the how.

There’s no time to think it through properly. He jumps upwards. He nearly misses the edge he picked out, but he’s able to grab it with his flesh hand - his shoulder pops out of its place a bit but he doesn’t care, it’s just a minor injury, keep going, he pulls himself up and to his feet and runs forth. He can hear Stane babbling nonsense even without the phone, his sharpened senses focusing on the scene and he wants to punch that asshole in the face so much, he wants to kill him slowly and he wants him to properly suffer throughout.

He’s two floors below when he hears the glass shattering and he halts at a point from where he’s able to look up at the scene and his heart stops for a few beat. Tony’s hanging above the depth, and Stane, showing his armored back toward James, is pointing some sort of grenade launcher at him.

James whips his gun out and fires at the same time as the other. Stane misses. James doesn’t.

He can’t do real damage, though. His caliber is way too small to go through the metal of the armor, by any means, he could toss stones as well, it wouldn’t really make a difference. James leaps a few steps to position himself better, and he aims and fires again before Stane could land a hit on Tony.

The second bullet glances off the suit of armor as well, but at least the impact tossed the aiming arm away a little bit and it catches Stane’s attention and he turns away from Tony. It’s all James hoped at these circumstances. He jumps again, he wants to reach the next floor as soon as possible. Unluckily, Stane doesn’t bother with him once he sees there’s only one man, dressed in black and holding only one little gun, and turns back to Tony.

James stops and fires again, this time aiming for the joints, and he successfully lands one at the knee, and sparkles fly out from underneath as Stane tries to move that limb, while Tony shouts to Potts to hit the button. He’s clambering only with one hand by now, but James can’t focus on that, neither the rage he feels toward Potts for not doing her job, he has to focus on keeping Stane busy, distracting him from shooting Tony down with those missiles or whatnot, while making his way up to join in properly, and…

“You’ll die!” Potts objects and James runs harder than ever, pushing his limits.

He’s not there in time.

He can’t reach Tony before Potts pushes the button.

But he’s there to snatch him from the air, grabbing and pulling him down and blunting Tony’s fall with his own body, cradling him to his chest with one arm and ignoring the cracked ribs he got by pulling this stunt. He watches over as Stane falls forward and feels nothing but a gut-deep satisfaction.

He’s less satisfied when he has to roll over because that fucking reactor is really exploding, and he covers Tony bodily, his only working hand around his head, and he feels sparks and smithereens rain down on his back which is not protected by any gear either, and the ember burns on his skin but he’ll heal, he had much worse than this. Calculated recovery time: under six hours, the Soldier in his head adds helpfully, but James doesn’t care and doesn’t listen, he lifts his head when there’s no more hell falling down on them and when he checks it’s more or less safe he lifts his body too, pushing himself up by one hand and he grunts as he realizes the pathetic state he’s in.

Which is totally, fully, absolutely forgotten as he looks at Tony’s face, Tony’s closed eyes and the blankness on his features, as he takes in the sight of his fading ARC-reactor in his chest, and suddenly James can’t breathe and can’t think and can’t function at all.

“Tony?” he whimpers out and somehow he might have been hit in the eye with something again because he feels tears forming in them which is absurd but Tony doesn’t respond and something inside James’s chest presses awfully tightly and he can’t breathe it can’t be happening it can’t, he touches his forehead to Tony’s and then he leans forward more and pushes his lips to Tony’s.

The movement is nothing sublime. It’s despair, it’s denial. It’s a plea and it’s a prayer and it’s things that weren't said earlier but should have been.

It’s the Soldier and his Mechanic, it’s Tony and his James.

And it’s…

...working.

 

Tony kisses back.

James doesn’t let him go.

The reactor flickers to life.

 

Chapter 12: Iron Man Tony - Epilogue

Chapter by art_by_aray, Menatiera, Neutralchaos

Turns out, constantly having SHIELD agents in your backyard can really stress your boyfriend out.

Tony’s never expected to have to say this sentence even to himself, even though he is the genius. First, because a few weeks ago he didn’t even know what SHIELD was, nevermind that his agents existed at all. Second, because he never did relationships, okay, so having a boyfriend was just not on the table.

Yet here he is.

And his boyfriend is James “Bucky” Barnes...

“I’m gonna shoot them all if they don’t clear out by tomorrow morning!”

...okay, plus aggressive murderous intents, but still.

***

When he came to his senses at the rooftop, James - because he’s called and he’s still calling him mostly James, due to his request - didn’t want to let him go at all. Which was not really a viable option, of course, but Tony didn’t protest against the idea that hard. Actually, he’d have been really glad to go on with that plan, but sadly, there was much to do before.

For example, sneaking James out of the scene before anybody realized his presence. (The sheer mention of James not having the mask on was enough to convince him to get on board with this plan. He was in a better state of mind, but outing himself to everybody? Not a fucking option.) Luckily he was the Winter Soldier or whatnot, so he managed to vanish from everyone’s eyes. Even Tony was not sure if he went home or stayed, but he had a pretty educated guess about the feeling of a stare on the back of his neck not being just his imagination.

Then dealing with this Coulson guy. (Wow, Tony’d apparently met him? At the gala? Well, he wasn’t paying any attention to him for sure, so many more important things were happening at the time.) Though to be fair, he was mostly dealt with by Pepper, who regained her inner balance (or the semblance of it) so fucking fast that Tony entertained the idea again to officially crown her as Queen of Awesomeness or something similar, and she had backup, because somehow Yinsen was there too? Wow, Tony had missed some shit while he was busy with Obie.

Neither Yinsen nor Pepper muttered a single word about James. Instead of mentioning him, they did admit to the agent, however reluctantly, who Yinsen was and from where did they know each other with Tony, but that was all before Tony butted in and basically stopped every proper discussion by talking a mile in a minute about any nonsense he could come up with at the heat of the moment.

All three of them were shaken, traumatized, and exhausted, the fucking interrogation could wait. So he grabbed his belongings - two plus one people, actually -, and called Happy to take all of them home.

Okay, James arrived on his own and half an hour later with a stolen car and some stolen Starbucks coffee? Why was that? Who the hell steals Starbucks coffee? Anyway, Tony ordered Jarvis to pay for everything and all.

Still.

Finally, they were home.

***

The press conference was, as always, both a dream and a nightmare.

Tony kind of planned to out himself, but it was… still unexpected, even to him. He entertained the idea of keeping it a secret for the whole time… He tried to imagine how that would work. He lived his life in front of the cameras, so for how long could he pretend? Which journalist would be the first to reveal his secret identity and how would they present it to the world? Would he be seen as a hero or as a villain, or something in between, a masked vigilante of some sort? It would have been an entertaining ride for sure.

But he decided against it, and it was Christine Everheart of all who made this decision even more easy. Because she’d never believed him to be a superhero. Because she’d never even implied that he, Tony Stark, could be a superhero. Tony has lost it then and there. They can't imagine it? Well, surprise!

(And then Christine smirked at him while everyone jumped at their feet shouting and she kept eye contact and nodded slowly and Tony almost lost his shit again like everyone around him. He was played by this fucking journalist. How did he end up with such awesome and annoying women around him?)

But there was another reason, one that should not be spoken out loud, that really should remain a secret for now, and that reason was James.

James was there at SI, and he saved Tony. He did everything despite being exposed through the Incident.

By admitting his own involvement, Tony got the media and the conspiracy theorists and the army and everyone focus on Iron Man. And if they were focusing on him, then they wouldn’t notice that other figure, that dark man in the background. And Tony had to be honest with himself: there were certain things he was good at, and being distracting and loud and visible and getting attention from the press was definitely among them. Meanwhile, James was not ready to be outed. Tony was sooo ready to help him keep his secret as long as it was necessary for him and his recovery.

Because there still was a long, long way ahead of him.

***

Coulson was mad, of course. Tony blew up the well-crafted cover they tried to give him.

Tony didn’t disclose his reasons, after all, when Coulson came at him questioning he just shrugged and opened his arms like saying ‘what can I do, I work like this’, and Coulson couldn’t do anything about it after a live TV broadcast.

Tony more or less knew the risk he had taken, so he ordered Jarvis to keep an eye on the web and monitor the reactions and threats. If he also happened to instruct him to look out for potential conspiracy theories about a certain dark figure appearing during the Iron Man fight, no one should know about that.

SHIELD wanted to investigate everything thoroughly, but they could kiss Tony’s ass. When they demanded answers too violently, Tony simply locked them out. Out of his house, out of his business, out of his contracts, out of everything. Even though Stark Industries wasn’t manufacturing weapons anymore, they still sold supporting equipment - from protection gears to night vision goggles and so on and forth -, and a spy agency definitely needed all of that, so they reconsidered their standpoint pretty quickly. But some agents were designated to watch the mansion constantly.

And they still are so Tony constantly keeps Jarvis’s eyes on James, just to be sure he doesn’t lose his patience and actually shoots them by sheer annoyance.

Apparently, their presence could be forgiven, but the sloppy work they’re doing can not.

***

Tony is ready to take up a mantle. He thinks about it between nightmares all the time, and it always comes to this outcome: he’d do it, like Captain America did back in his days. Of course, comparing himself to Cap is a blasphemy in itself, but still. And it’s not the forties anymore and the world’s more complicated than it was during the war, but maybe, just maybe, a superhero is what the world still needs. Tony’s legacy so far was pain and destruction and weapons and wars, but maybe he could do better, he could help people instead of hurting them.

Christine Everheart is right, Tony’s not the superhero type, clearly, like he said, he has so many character flaws and made so many mistakes and all, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe everyone can change their life and can turn into a superhero if they’re really willing to do the work it requires. Maybe even Tony can turn out to be okay for the role of Iron Man.

But even if not, he has someone to rely on. A sidekick, sort of, and none less than Bucky Barnes, the once-fallen companion of Captain America himself.

(Tony’s pretty sure James wouldn't react well if anyone’d suggest him that he’s just a sidekick, but he was, right?)

And if Cap could rely on him, then sure as hell Tony can do that as well. Not in the physical meaning of the role (though obviously having someone helping out in the villain-fighter part of the job can come handy as well), but in the mental and moral meaning of the word. If Tony would ever abuse the power of the armor, if he’d be about to become savage or judgmental or anything like that, James would be there to help him, to guide him back.

Well, provided that James was in his right mind at the critical moment.

***

Life never turns into a fairy tale. Tony has learned that already, several times.

But it gets better.

Having James showing up at the doorstep with a  bad guy tied up with a bow on top on his shoulder is a bit worrisome at first, but it turns out seconds later that he isn’t just giving away weird gifts like a proud cat. The mercenary he brings in is one of the two survival participants of the first assault against Tony. Most of them ended up dead, but James managed to hunt down one of the remaining ones.

And oh, after not more than five minutes with James he’s happy to spill his guts about the background of their attack, the few bits and pieces of information he could possibly hand over. It doesn’t take much digging from there to find evidence against Obadiah Stane hiring mercenaries to kidnap Tony Stark.

This, in addition to the footage Pepper discovered on the computer and the things SHIELD found about the Ten Rings is enough to out Obie’s sick shenanigans. It’s enough, even if just posthumous, to raise charges against him. To show the world who he really was.

It’s a cold comfort, but it’s more than nothing, and Tony’s so grateful to James for it, because without him and his ‘gift’ Tony wouldn’t be able to convince SHIELD to give up their evidence and let the world know the truth. Tony’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to bear if he had to pretend to be devastated by the loss of Obadiah Stane.

Except that in reality, he doesn't need to pretend, he really is.

And it makes him mad because he knows he shouldn’t be. Obie tried to get him murdered twice, and when they failed, he came for Tony personally. The memory makes Tony want to scream and to crawl away and…

He does neither. He goes to the workshop. (He repairs James’s metal arm, he writes new code sequences, he invents an advanced toaster with a built-in AI and such.) He lets James cuddle him - because apparently, Bucky Barnes is a champ in cuddling if he’s the one who initiates it. (The other way around? Might end getting stabbed. That’s an issue, definitely. They’re working on it.) It takes some time and practice to sort out, but. Well. That’s kind of expected after everything.

They don’t talk about James’s past and how can he be Bucky Barnes, and how can he even be alive and functional after all these years. They’ll have to figure these things out eventually, but they have time and they have more issues to deal with than fingers to count them, so it’s not the priority right now.

Instead James lays down besides Tony whenever Tony feels a panic attack threatening. (And vice versa.) He hugs Tony close when he needs to cry. (It’s inclusively his part, because James never cries.) He caresses Tony’s face when Tony’s lost in dark thoughts. (And inversely Tony calls him as long as needed for him to hear it and react to it when James's the one wandering out of his head.)

They even talk things out. Sometimes. It’s not really their style, but sometimes it happens.

“He was like a father,” Tony muses once through broken sobs. “And I killed him?”

James snorts. “After he attempted to kill you several times and he was this close to actually succeeding? Not to mention he was after Potts, too, and I bet he wouldn’t have let Rhodes and Hogan alive either, he’d have killed them just to be sure.” James talks quietly but there’s certainty in his voice, something definitive that speaks volumes about his past as well, about the acts he might be committed, about the way he just knows how power-hungry people’s minds work.

“I know. But still…”

James squeezes him with a bit more force. “If you don’t stop blaming yourself right now I might have to kill you myself.”

Tony furrows himself deeper into the embrace. “Is this Bucky Barnes saying or the Winter Soldier?” he asks after a brief pause. Mentioning that name - actually either of them - is not always a good idea, and yeah, James is tense for a few moments, then he consciously relaxes his muscles until he’s lax and still next to Tony.

“Both, you idiotic Mechanic.”

Tony smiles and hides his face in James’s neck. “Sounds like you care about me.”

And James rolls his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.” He kisses Tony before he could say anything else.

***

“They’ll come after me one day, you know,” James says once while Tony is working on the arm. The mechanical limb is still among Tony’s favorite projects, it has so many possibilities and chances for upgrading and it still holds some secrets he’s eager to find out. Tony grabs a smaller screwdriver and hums, like he’s not really listening, though they both know by now that’s just an act. Tony always pays attention. “If they find out where I am.”

Tony works quietly, thinking things through. “Why do you bring this up now?”

“Because the others are a mess.”

Tony glances up questioningly.

“Yinsen and Potts. They’re… Yinsen was always like this, but it’s easy to see now with Potts as well. She’s quieter. Distant. Ethereal, sometimes.” James still struggles with words more often than not, but right now his description is on point. Which is nice, but Tony still doesn’t get the point.

“And?”

“If anything happens, if they attack, they’ll suffer again.”

Tony has to put down the tools because his hands start to shake just by the mention of the possibility. “I won’t let that happen,” he says, but his voice is hoarse and he clenches and unclenches his fingers repeatedly to calm himself down a bit. “You wouldn’t let it happen either. You like them.”

James doesn’t answer, but his silence can speak volumes. Tony assumes he does like them, and it probably freaks him out more than most things.

Because he associates feelings with punishment, because his humanity was oppressed for so long, because he's afraid he'll be used again.

Tony understands.

He doesn’t mention the files, but he has something else to confess as well. He closes the plates of the arm. “Come, take a look at these,” he invites and leads James in front of the biggest monitor. After some typing, several images show up, displayed in pairs. “I knew those MRI upgrades will come in handy once,” Tony mutters only to himself. The pictures show brain scans. “Anyway,” he raises his voice again. “Remember when I did those tests? I was focusing on your arm, of course, but I did some other things, too. Belated apologies for not asking, but you were pretty scary back then. So, here’s your scan took then, and here’s one from a few days ago.”

Tony’s pretty sure James doesn’t understand anything about the results. Tony has his own difficulties as well, he would need to consult an expert for full results, but there are things that even he can see.

“When we met, you had serious brain damage, you know. There were lost connections between areas - see, these black spots are some sort of scar tissues on your cells.” Tony’s hands fly as he speaks, pointing to the right places. “Now, you are a damn medical miracle, because you heal. Like, seriously. The connections are rebuilding themselves steadily. It’s a slow progress, but I’m pretty sure it’d be humanly impossible for anyone else but you. I don’t know what happened to you but. You weren’t kidding at the beginning when you said you’d heal. The black areas are significantly smaller now than they were a few months ago.”

Tony stops to actually look at James. He stares at the images blankly, like he’s not fully there, like he’s dissociating a bit again, so Tony carefully holds his flesh hand and squeezes it a bit. James’s eyes snap at him instantly.

“Whatever they did to you, it won’t last forever.”

Something painful writhes on James’s features, but he squeezes back.

"It won't erase what I did for them," he whispers hoarsly. "I can't even remember properly..."

"Stop," Tony orders. "I don't... Listen, James, I don't know much about that, but there's nothing you could possibly do that wouldn't be forgiven. By me, at least."

James looks dubious. ‘You don’t know that.’

Tony goes for the most ludicrous thing he can come up with to make a lighthearted comment. "It's not like you killed my parents or something. It'll be alright, James."

James slowly nods, but he seems distant and not seem relieved at all.

Tony doesn’t push the topic more, but only for now. Their problems are like elephants in the room that they refuse to acknowledge; they dance around them right now, because some scars are still too fresh and raw for both of them to address, but they’ll have to deal with them eventually.

Not now, but sometimes.

***

They have issues. For example, the fact that Tony sometimes gets jealous is pretty much crazy.

Yet he feels it. He’s jealous because other people know about James by now and it’s like he has to share him, like he had a secret that’s outed now. Even though it’s just Yinsen and Pepper, two people he’s willing and mostly happy to share everything with. He doesn’t want to imagine how will he feel after more people will know about James’s presence. There’s Rhodey and Happy and Aunt Peggy and… eventually, the whole world.

It will be messy.

But that’s a really long-term problem far ahead in the unknown future, so Tony decides to bury it. For now.

He tries to focus on the good parts. He has more work with SI, definitely, but he has fewer secrets, so that balances it. Yinsen comes out of his room from time to time and tries to engage in social activities. Well, social, among the four of them, their exclusive little traumatized-by-nearly-being-killed inner circle. This shared experience made James’s part a little easier, but there was still a lot of yelling involved when Pepper realized Tony’s been living with James for months without anyone, including her, knowing about his existence. Tony dreads the moment Pepper realizes James’s identity, because she didn’t make the connection between the sad-and-dark figure and long-dead Bucky Barnes yet, but it’s just a matter of time, and that will be a nightmare of a conversation for all parties.

Tony’s conscience is kind of heavy because he can’t include Rhodey in their activities, but James is not ready for showing himself to a military person and all of them have to respect this. (Well, Tony respects it. It’s not discussed or reasoned with anyone else. It’s a miracle in itself that James was able to express his reasons at all.)

To ease his conscience, Tony starts finishing a suit for Rhodey. Then, after discussing it with the party involved he introduces Yinsen and Rhodes. It goes unexpectedly well. Rhodey is hurt, of course, that Tony didn’t trust him enough to tell it sooner, and he wants to know every exact detail about how Yinsen got here while Tony was in front of the Army’s eyes the whole time after finding him in the desert, questions that Tony’s not ready and not willing to answer, but still.

Witnessing the first steps of the future friendship between these two is both delighting and horrifying, because fantastic my friends like each other and oh shit now they can team up against me.

***

But Rhodey is a busy man while Pepper’s on sick leave (though she works anyway, they have an Expo to organize after all), Tony can always talk himself out of responsibilities if he needs to, and Yinsen is always at home. So is James, except when he vanishes to do God knows what, or shows up with bad guys afterward, but still. He’s mostly there. They start to spend time together fairly often.

They organize movie nights. Tony decides on which film to watch, James checks perimeter (some habits die hard), Pepper makes popcorn, and Yinsen arranges the couch pillows for maximum comfort. James basically lost time around black and white movies, Yinsen was simply too invested in science and his country being torn apart through his last two-three decades to watch many movies, so they have a lot to catch up with. Pepper needs a distraction from her newest bad memories, plus she enjoys being clever or joking and discussing film theories with Tony, and Tony just wants his found family to be happy.

And to get his references, because what’s the point of being clever if no one understands you, right?

They watch One flew over the cuckoo's nest when Pepper asks out of the blue, “Do you want an appointment with my therapist?”

Tony’s eyes round. “What?” he shrieks in disbelief. “You have a therapist?!”

The glance Pepper gives him is devastating, to say the least. “Of course I have a therapist. I’m your PA. That job sometimes is harder than herding a bunch of cats, of course I need to let the steam go somewhere.”

“I thought you horse-rode for that!” Tony protest because really he can’t be that bad.

“I do that for enjoyment,” she corrects. “It’s a nice change to work with someone who actually wants to cooperate with me.”

“Now you’re just mean. I’m always cooperating!”

Not only Pepper, but Yinsen and even James snort to these words. They usually just watch their banter in amusement, but it apparently became too much to stand. “Suuure,” the doctor comments with quiet sarcasm, and James nods frantically.

Tony points finger guns at them. “Traitors!” he whispers theatrically.

“More than that,” Yinsen retorts and turns to Potts. “Is this therapist discreet enough?”

“Absolutely,” she nods, and her tone is warm like sunshine and she smiles at him. “I’ll arrange a meeting with her if you’re ready.”

Yinsen only nods, and he seems relieved and worried at the same time, but they don’t mention it. The mood is suddenly much more serious and so much quieter, and none of them want that. They’re supposed to have some lighthearted times, now…

“Let me tell you,” Pepper turns back to Tony and adds with such grace that Tony’s heart aches a bit. “She says it’s quite unhealthy that I care for you and love you this much even after everything you put me through.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Tony shouts. “I’m the victim here!”

“I was talking about the crap you did for years, Tony.” But she smirks so she’s not angry at all, they’re playful again and they’re enjoying themselves and Tony actually feels good. Both physically and mentally and emotionally, he’s good. He’s free. If anyone wants to hurt him again, he has tools to protect himself and others. He’ll never be helpless again. He has his beloved people around him. He has families, both artificial and human, who are his friends as well.

And he has James.

And James might have similar thoughts and feelings, because he snuggles closer, and puts his arms around Tony.

Tony smiles and Pepper’s eyes widen while Yinsen turns back to the film.

Sure enough, James leans down and gives a light kiss on Tony’s lips.

Pepper’s jaw drops. And then she… takes a deep breath and screams. “OH MY GOD!” She jumps to her feet and tough James tenses up and scans the room for threats he stays put. Tony’s arm tightens around his shoulder to reassure him.

“I can’t believe it!” Pepper claps her hands enthusiastically. “You really did kiss?”

James shifts his weight uncomfortably and he seems like he’s ready to run or - Tony wants to cry - to accept any punishment he deserves for such a behavior, but Pepper seems like the most excited kid in a candy shop.

“When did this happen?”

James doesn’t answer and Tony shrugs and Pepper realizes her mistake. She kneels down in front of their pair and offers her hand.

James, though hesitantly, puts his palm into hers. “I’m happy for you,” she says, quietly but with such force, even James has to smile a bit.

“Yeah,” Tony clears his throat. “Me too.”

Later that day, when Tony’s laying in the couch of the workshop and James on the floor in front of it, their fingers entangled - their new sleeping habit -, James says, “They’re good people.”

Tony, half asleep, has to think a few seconds before he comprehends who he means.

“They are,” he agrees with a soft smile and squeezes James’s hand. “So you are.”

James hums.

“We’ll see.”

But it’s not a denial, and it’s progress.

They’ll get there eventually.

THE END

(for now)

Notes:

So that's it, folks!
The first part of this series is done. Hadespuppy will help me out with betaing me, so from now on I'll be slowly working on correcting my mistakes I did through this fic. But I want to write one of the planned sequels as well, so... if you liked this verse, there might come more with time! :)
Huge thank you to all the amazing people who helped me through this, who gave me inspiration and encouragement and awesome fanarts. Shoutout to neutralchaos, araydre and sapphirae_escapist! You are awsome!
If you want to chat or anything, my tumblr is here, hit me up anytime!

Notes:

This is my mostly-complete fic for the Winteriron Bang and I'll add a chapter each day until we're at the end. At least that's the plan, let's hope the universe will let me actually do it! :)

Yeppers, I'm so sorry I accidentally added you to this work! I can't remove you from the creators, please be kind to remove yourself and/or contact me! I'll try to make it up for you somehow. I'm so sorry.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Just Give Me A Reason