Reaching Out Across the Sea

by invaders_forever

Summary:

Allegedly, this is a series of loosely connected one-shots that might slowly bring the Invaders back together. In reality, it's an excuse to write horrible ooc toro angst.

 

I'm am sorry for nothing.

Notes:

Thinker pushes Toro's patience a little too far and some Invaders realise stuff.

Top tier summary, am I right?

(also, let's just assume that most no one knows thinker's first name, and that you'd have to know a lot about him to just drop it casually. idk how true that is in cannon but it looks cool sooo)

Chapter 1: He Who Gets Slapped

Bucky was at his wits end with this interrogation. His investigation into some sketchy Horton-cell-like lifeforms had not only become ‘an Invaders thing’, but also resulted in the need to question the Thinker. Yes, that Thinker. The one who tortured, brainwashed, and murdered his best friend.

 

Keeping Jim and Namor from killing the man on sight had been hard enough. (Keeping himself from killing the man had been pretty damn hard too.) But they needed his information to solve the case and save the world.

 

The whole team (with the exception of Jim, who stepped out to get a drink an hour ago and hadn’t come back yet) had been in a SHIELD interrogation room with Thinker all afternoon. As the infuriating psychopath launched into another monolog about “ technicalities” and “ specifics” and how “ if you want the right information, you’re going to have to narrow down what you’re asking for”, Bucky cast another glance over his shoulder at Toro.

 

For someone who was in the room with their own murderer, he seemed calm. Too calm. The kind of forced calm they all got good at during the war and prayed they’d be able to forget once it was over. Bucky may not be as good at reading his friend as he used to be- be that because Toro had gotten better at hiding, or Bucky just didn’t know him that well anymore- but he could still see something dark behind Toro’s eyes.

 

Then, just as Thinker made a particularly condescending remark about how far the team wasn’t willing to go for information and their inability to appreciate the marvels of Hoton-esc science, Toro stepped forward from the corner to stand directly across the table from him.

 

“Let me make you a promise,” Toro started in a hard voice that put Bucky a bit on edge, “If you continue to make this purposefully difficult, I will tell exactly one person in this room the full story of what went down in Hawaii. Every cut, every bruise, every whisper that I’m not who I think I am, every nightmare that keeps me awake…”

 

There was a screeching sound as the tips of Toro’s fingers dug into the steel table, though his tone stayed even and cold the whole time. Bucky exchanged a worried glance with Steve as they both noticed the tips of Toro’s fingers had changed to metal. He’d never used his powers that way before…

 

“And we will see how far they go then,” Toro continued, leaning closer to a quickly paling Thinker, “Do we have an understanding, Julius ?”

 

Bucky could feel Steve holding his breath beside him, and couldn’t help but do the same. Toro and the Thinker continued to stare at each other for several seconds, and the tension in the room was comparable to adamantium when Thinker finally looked away.

 

“You make yourself clear, Mr. Raymond,” Thinker grumbled annoyedly.

 

“Excellent,” there was a slight scraping sound as Toro pulled his fingers out of the table, “Since this talk will now be taking considerably less time, I’m going to go find Jim.”

 

Toro paused before walking out the door. He turned towards Bucky.

 

“And if he is of any further trouble, let me know.”

 

And with that he walked out. Thinker did prove to be much more cooperative after that, though he clearly wasn’t happy about it. They were able to get the information they needed within a few minutes.

 

****

 

Jim sat on a bench outside the SHIELD base. He never had gotten his water. And he really had meant to stay in the interrogation room, if only for Toro’s sake but. But he had his own history with Thinker, twice over now. That combined with what the man had done to the Toro, and what that had done to Anne… Well, it’d be very hard to get any information out of a charred corpse.

 

It seemed like he was angry so often anymore. Of course, he got angry plenty during the war, Nazi’s make that very easy, but things just got so damn complicated. His son grew up (without him), his friend’s moved on and changed, there were other androids out there, but they weren’t like him. Maybe he was just lonely. Lonely, when your best friends are literally within walking distance. It’d be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much. 

 

Jim was so deep in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Toro making his way across the field towards the bench. Jim steeled his resolve and made sure to relax his face- the last thing Toro needed to worry about right now was Jim’s well being- and looked up as his son arrived next to him.

 

“Hey, sorry about taking so long I-”

 

“No it’s fine,” Toro held up his hand to forestall Jim’s apology, “He’s really boring when he gets monologuing.” 

 

The joke, if you could even call it that, fell painfully flat with the unspoken knowledge of how Toro had experience with Thinker’s monologs. Jim very carefully didn’t let his face reflect that.

 

“So, uh, anyways, they’ve just about got the information we need, so you should probably head back towards the plane…” Toro trailed off awkwardly.

 

For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else, but then he smiled, squeezed Jim’s shoulder, and walked back to the building. While Jim couldn’t describe himself as the most observant person (more than one person had expressed surprise that he used to be a detective, but details were always more of Toro’s thing), he knew a fake smile when he saw one. 

 

Jim stood up quickly and made his way back towards the SHIELD hanger after Toro. Something was up, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

 

****

 

Bucky hovered nervously in the doorway of one of the SHIELD jet’s carrying compartments. Toro was double checking the equipment they had packed and carefully not acknowledging Bucky’s presence.

 

“He, Thinker I mean, said we had to retrieve some documents from a safe in one of his old labs…”

 

“It’s in Hawaii, isn’t it,” Toro paused his work for a second.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. The two men stood in silence for a moment, then Toro returned to checking their gear.

 

“Then I suppose that’s where we’re headed.”

 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the forced nochelance in that statement.

 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry,” Toro raised his eyebrow skeptically, but Bucky ignored him and continued, “But you’re way too calm about all of this.”

 

Toro sighed and finally turned to face Bucky.

 

“Look, can I ask you a very fair question?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“If I’m not calm about this, who is?”

 

Bucky couldn’t really argue with him there: Jim and Namor both still wanted Thinker dead, Bucky himself would probably help if asked, and Steve had more than enough on his plate right now without the whale team going off the rails.

 

“So you put up an act to keep everyone else from losing their heads. But where does that leave you?”

 

Toro shrugged a bit. “As the only person on this mess of a team that sees a therapist regularly? I’m the only one who can pull this off with a reasonably small risk to myself and everyone around me.”

 

“Somehow that doesn’t strike me as a mindset your therapist would approve of.”

 

Toro pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Look Buck, just let me have this, okay? I won’t let this mess with me in the field, I promise.”

 

Bucky bit his lip. 

 

“If you’re sure you’re going to be okay… Really okay, not just okay to fight, then I’ll let this drop. But if you aren’t, everyone understands. I can call in Nat or Sam. We’ve all been there and we’re not going to judge.”

 

Toro sighed again and walked past Bucky towards the cockpit where the others had gathered.

 

“I appreciate the thought Buck, but I promise I’ll be fine. I’m just… I’m not ready to have some of these conversations yet.”

 

****

 

Steve looked up as Tom and Bucky returned to the cockpit. It didn’t escape his notice that they both looked a good bit more relaxed than the last time he had seen them, or that they had come from the same place. While he recognized that he didn’t know Tom well enough to fairly speculate, Steve was glad he had someone to talk to who understood some of it. 

 

Especially after today. That desperation to control the situation, even at the cost of one's own morals, had led many of Steve’s other friends down dangerous paths. And if Toro started down that way, Jim and Namor were certain to be affected. Buck too, though he would hide it better. In a way, Tom was the only thing keeping this team together, even if it was mutual agreement that the man who killed him deserved every bad day he could get.

 

As much as Steve hoped for there to be more than that soon, he was glad they had that much considering how emotionally charged this mission already was.

 

-END ???-

Chapter 2: Hot Tea and Sleep Deprivation

Summary:

Bucky is really sleep deprived and overworked, but he also promised Toro they'd have lunch together today. And he's really trying to watch after his friend more, especially considering all the things he overlooked over the years. Unfortunately, Toro is having about the same thought process.

Oh, and this does kind of take place after the last chapter, but you don't have to really know what happened there to understand this.

Notes:

I literally wrote this chapter after realizing most of my writing reads like a fever dream, so I made it intentional this time!

At this point I should probably just change my username to 'poorly written Toro angst', it'd be more honest.

It had been a horribly, painfully long week for Bucky. He had been swamped with work from the government (because of course he could take two cases at a time, so long as they didn’t try to arrest him. He could do 50 cases at a time if they wanted!) , chasing a few leads for Steve, and fulfilling his numerous duties as man-on-the-wall. It had been days since he slept, and now a notification glared up from his phone, declaring that he was late to his planned coffee outing with Toro. Again.

 

Bucky sighed as he glanced over the mess of papers in front of him. He didn’t want to cancel on his friend again, but there was just no way he was going to be able to go. He could almost see the hurt look Toro would be hiding when he didn’t show up even as he wrote a quick apology text.

 

Sorry. Something came up with work and I can’t make it today.

Sent at 10:40 am

 

Read at 10:41 am.

 

Bucky bit his lip as he looked down at his phone. Ever since the mess with Thinker two months ago, he’d been worried about his friend. Little things he’d noticed in the past but never really thought about…

 

---

Bucky braced himself for the anger he was sure to be on the receiving end of. He deserved it, having hidden his survival from Toro for so long. What he didn’t expect, or deserve, was the strong hug he was suddenly pulled into upon revealing his face. Even when Jim made it painfully obvious that Toro had been the odd one out on this particular news, the younger man didn’t seem to blame him at all.

 

He should. After all, Bucky had lied to him. Hidden from him. Used him, in a way. But Toro didn’t seem to hold any of that against him. Looking back though, Toro hadn’t let Bucky out of his sight the whole time they were hiding in Atlantas. And most of that time Bucky had had a hand on his shoulder, or an arm draped over his back.

 

---

 

Bucky squinted his eyes at the documents in front of him. There was something there about a criminal cartel that … someone wanted him to find, but he couldn’t seem to make out what. He should really get some sleep…

 

---

 

Toro’s smile was a little too strained when Bucky had asked about his wife. Ex-wife. And his explanation about it was a little rushed. Bucky had meant to ask him more, tactfully, of course. Obviously he was hurting, with good reason. But then there was that radiation monster to be captured, and Vision appeared to tell them an ancient curse had been enacted because of them and they had to go fix it.

 

---

Bucky was dimly aware that he had put down the documents he was supposed to be reviewing. Or maybe he had dropped them, he couldn’t quite remember…

---

Bucky frowned a little at Toro’s gait. While their “Spontaneous Duo Recon Missions” tended to get both of them dinged up pretty bad, he couldn’t recall any foot injuries with this one.

 

“What’s with the limp, hotshot?”

 

“What?” Toro looked up, so startled by Bucky’s sudden appearance behind him he didn’t even bother fussing about the nickname.

 

“You’re limping, so out with it. Steve’ll skin us both alive if he finds out you’ve been hiding injuries too.”

 

Toro blinked down at his feet, as if he was just now noticing something was wrong, “Oh, that. I’m not hurt, it’s just a little sore from a bad landing last week. It’ll be fine.”

To be fair, that explanation hadn’t exactly fooled him during the war either. But when you’re surrounded by so much misery all the time, it’s easy to overlook the smaller things.

 

Like how Toro couldn’t wear socks when he used his powers.

 

Or how he only ever got a new pair of boots once.

 

How pale he looked after any flying mission. And how he always seemed to be hungry no matter what.

 

That limp had just faded into the background. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if it was still there, for all that he would’ve noticed it.

 

---

At some point he’d moved from the chair at his desk to the couch in the living room. Maybe he could take a quick nap, and then figure out… whatever he was working on. Hopefully it wasn’t too urgent.

---

 

“I’m really fine”

 

---

 

“She’s remarried now, got two kids, I don’t want to mess that up.”

 

---

 

“If I’m not calm about this, who’s going to be?”

 

---

 

“Dammit Jim!”

 

---

 

“If we’re being perfectly honest, killing us might be putting some of us out of our misery.”

 

---

 

“ почему ты не позволяешь мне умереть?!”

 

---

 

The sound of a phone notification shook Bucky from his… thoughts? Dreams? (Nightmares?) That line was starting to become way too blurred. He fumbled his way drowsily towards his desk and checked his phone screen.

Oh, That sucks. Hope the workload lightens up soon.

Sent at 10:59 am

 

Could I at least bring you something?

Sent at 11:01 am

 

And okay, maybe Bucky really wanted to see his friend. And maybe he hadn’t eaten in a disturbingly long amount of time. And just possibly the thought of scraping together something resembling lunch right now sounded like hell. But it was definitely the sleep deprivation’s fault that he said yes. Absolutely.

 

~~~~

 

Twenty minutes later Toro got there with sandwiches and some delicious hot tea. Bucky hadn’t really had much time to clean up, but he at least had the decency to splash some water on his face and put on a clean t-shirt.

 

“Damn, you weren’t kidding about being swamped,” Toro remarked as he caught a glimpse of Bucky's “office”. (Two card tables on either side of his desk, all piled high with an interesting mixture of files, notes, electronics, and weapons.)

“Sorry I didn’t expect this many incoming assignments this week. I would’ve warned you earlier if I’d known,” Bucky sat down at the kitchen table, “But anyways, how are you doing?”

 

That was how talking to people worked, right? God, he hadn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t part of a mission in ages.

 

“Oh I’m okay. Had a job interview yesterday,” Toro bit his lip nervously, “I’m not sure how well I did, though. It’s been a while since I’ve done one.”

 

Bucky glanced down at one of the documents he was trying to review. Why did he think it would be easier to focus while he was talking to someone? Oh, right. He was talking to someone.

 

“Oh-um, what… What position was it for?”

 

Toro furrowed his brow a little. He had that same kind of I’m-quietly-concerned-but-not-going-to-pry look that Natasha got sometimes.

 

“There was an opening for a part-time archivist at one of the local universities, and they have a pretty extensive french collection. It seems really cool.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

An uncomfortable silence drug on. Bucky made an effort to actually eat his sandwich(it was a good sandwich, but his appetite seemed to have disappeared) and also process what was on the page in front of him. He had been staring at the same paper for over a minute and still couldn't have told you what it said. This was embarrassing!

 

“So, have you, uh, talked to Jim lately?” Bucky attempted to get the conversation going again. He really hated that things between him and Toro were so… awkward. There was just so much that he didn’t know about the younger man’s life, so many things neither of them had said out loud.

 

But even with all of the inherent awkwardness of this situation Toro’s reaction to that question was… off. Toro wasn’t necessarily a great lair, but he was very good at misdirection and Bucky was still getting used to spotting that.

 

“Oh, we’ve talked a bit. He’s doing well. How about you and Steve?”

 

Bucky couldn’t help raising his eyebrow at how… obvious that redirection was. He was tempted to ask about it, but Toro had a sort of unspoken rule for conversations: question, answer, how about you, rinse and repeat Keep the exchange moving, don’t dwell on the cracks in each other's lies, never question an alibi no matter how obvious. So Bucky didn’t want to ask further, because that wasn’t how this worked.

But wasn’t the whole point of trying to stay in contact with Toro to put an end to  the epidemic levels of poor communication between them? He didn’t want to be rude but…

 

“Did… did something happen between you two?” Bucky tried to be as tactful as possible, but judging by the look on Toro’s face he hadn’t been successful.

 

“You don’t really have to answer that, I really shouldn’t pry-” Bucky tried to back pedal only for Toro to interrupt him.

 

“No it’s okay. I guess we just don’t have all that much in common anymore or something. We’ve been getting into fights more often and it really doesn’t feel like we have much to say to each other.”

 

Now there was a cause for concern. Jim and Toro never fought, at least not that Bucky had ever seen. He couldn’t even remember them ever getting mad at each other before.

 

Another cause for concern was that Bucky’s vision was starting to fill with spots and Toro was getting that quietly concerned look again.

 

“Are you okay, Buck?”

“I’m,” Bucky shook his head to clear his vision, but for some reason that just made his head hurt worse, “I’m fine, just a bit tired.”

 

Toro reached a hand across the table and put it gently on Bucky’s right arm.His hand was warm and it made Bucky suddenly long for Natasha to get back from her mission. His life didn’t usually involve physical contact with people who weren’t trying to kill him. It was nice…

 

“When was the last time you slept?”

 

“I… I’m not sure really it must’ve been…,” Bucky frowned. He really should remember, it couldn’t have been that long ago, “I think it was Tuesday?”

 

Toro blinked.

 

“How the fuck are you still conscious?!”

 

“I have work…”

 

“You still need to sleep! I thought I was the one with an unhealthy attitude towards work!”

 

At this point Toro had come around the table to sit next to Bucky. And maybe Bucky was sleep deprived, but this time it was definitely his choice to lean into Toro’s side. Even though he’d never admit it.

Notes:

So yeah. Most of Bucky's memories/dreams are paraphrased from things actually said or done in cannon. I can't promise the specifics because I'm not digging my way through every comic where Toro and Bucky shared panel space to make sure I got them all right.

Anyways the ones I made up were the flashback to the war, because I had some of the same realizations that Bucky's having here when I started thinking about Toro's costume during the war.

The "i'm really fine" probably hasn't been specifically said in cannon, "If I'm not calm about this then who is?" was a line from chapter one, and that Russian should say something along the lines of "Why don't you just kill me already?". I think that's it, just didn't want to send anyone searching for a moment in canon that never actually happened. =)

Chapter 3: I Keep Holding Onto You, But I Can't Bring You Back to Life

Summary:

Back in the year 1990-something, Jim gets to talk to Toro again. Maybe.

Well, this one doesn't directly tie in to the rest of the chapters. Honestly it could fit well in most of my fics where Toro is still dead at this time, so not saying this happened in Invaders 90 but....

Notes:

This took longer than expected. I apologize for typos I wrote most of this on my phone in between classes like the very responsible individual that I am.

Jim Hammond had been settling into life in the early 90s just fine. Absolutely nothing wrong what-so-ever. Or at least, that’s what he kept trying to convince the West Coast Avengers of. And Ann, but she was acutely aware of who and what he had missed and always seemed to see through him.

 

He’d given up on convincing himself a long time ago. 

 

So now he was out for a walk to ‘enjoy the pleasant evening’. To be fair, midnight in California was better than a lot of other places. But the things keeping Jim up weren’t as easily disposed of as the Nazi’s had been.

 

Ann had given him a picture this morning. She’d had one of her friends in New York mail it to her, and said that Jim should have it. 

 

It- it was a picture of Tom. The way she’d known him. Jim took the picture out of his pocket now, to study it again in a thin beam of moonlight. Not that he didn’t already have it memorized.

 

Short black hair, big, dark blue eyes, and a wide grin that managed to warm and break Jim’s heart at the same time because they were all so familiar. The  blue and gray sweater wasn’t familiar, but Toro had always liked a more muted palette when he was out of costume. Jim couldn’t really blame the kid, with how much attention his usual mode of dress brought. 

 

Still, there was an aching loneliness brought about by this picture. Because as much as Jim recognized, he’d never gotten to know the man in it. All he had were Ann’s stories.

 

Jim was shaken from his thoughts when the alert on his Avengers card went off. There must be trouble to be dealt with.

 

----

 

The fight was almost boring honestly. Especially since they’d stopped the end of the world 4 times already that week. A few D-lister villains had teamed up to steal a super microscope for whatever nefarious purposes one uses a MICROSCOPE for.

 

So it should have been easy, but of course Jim was distracted and nothing that looks easy ever actually is. He wasn’t quite paying attention and suddenly a ray blast knocked him sideways out of the air and into a brick wall. Jim had just enough time to think, oh, that figures before everything faded to black.

 

----

 

Jim resigned himself to floating in the icy blackness and waiting for one of his teammates to rescue him. He absentmindedly reminisced about coming back from missions like this during the war, or even before then. Toro was always worried (even though Jim had explained numerous time sthat head injuries weren’t anywhere near as dangerous to an android as they were a human) and Jim would usually end up resting on the couch. 

 

And Toro would sit with him and either read (sometimes out loud, if Jim promised it wouldn’t bother him), or just sit and run his hand through Jim’s hair.Once Jim had asked about that, being unfamiliar with the significance of the action to humans. Toro had awkwardly explained that it was something his mother had always done when he was sick, and he’d always done it for her.

 

Jim could swear he felt that same sensation of hands running through his hair now. The very thought of it was preposterous, no one on the team was close to him like that, not even Ann, and yet he was very sure he felt it. And while the logical thought was more along the lines of ‘help some random stranger is touching my hair’, Jim couldn’t shake the thought that he knew this person.

 

Not just that, he was certain of who it was too. Even if it was impossible, Jim just knew . Maybe that hit had been hard enough to send him to wherever Toro was now. And just like that the hands in his hair froze and a painfully familiar voice responded to his line of thought.

 

“Hey, don’t be thinking like that, okay?”

 

“Toro?”  Jim choked out, reaching one of his own hands up to grasp the one on his head.

 

”Yeah, I’m here,” Toro squeezed Jim’s hand back.

 

“How?”

 

“How should I know? Stuff just happens sometimes.”

 

Jim managed to sit up, though he still couldn't get his eyes open for some reason. But he could hug his son, and that was everything.

 

And wait, did he just call Toro his son? There had always been a feeling there, that he supposed could relate to fatherhood but he’d never really said it. Or thought it.

 

Jim hoped Toro wouldn’t mind. Tom had a father already, had had two, actually. But Jim’s fears were put to rest when Toro returned his hug. Despite that, Jim felt some guilt bubble up in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” Toro pulled back, sounding genuinely confused.

 

“I should’ve been there. When you were in school, or when you got married, or when you- when thinker-”

 

“Hey,” Toro pulled Jim back into the hug, “You didn’t have a choice in any of that. And when you did have a choice you chose to be there for me.”

 

“I still wasn’t there,” Jim whispered into Toro’s shoulder. 

 

Toro sighed heavily and pulled Jim closer. Jim really wished he could open his eyes and see Toro. It had been so long, even if Jim had only been alive again for a few months.

 

"You tried," Toro offered after a moment. "There're a lot of people who never would've done that for me."

 

"Well those people suck." 

 

"It's...not that simple. Though I appreciate your confidence in me."

 

Jim frowned and tried to look up at Toro's face. Unfortunately, his eyes still weren't cooperating. Of he could just see Tom's face…

 

Toro sat back and took Jim's hands into his. 

 

"Enough about me, what are you up to? I mean Byyou're not… y'know, dead anymore or anything."

 

Jim paused, considering where to start. 

 

"Well, I'm assuming you know the broad strokes of my first encounter with the fantastic four?"

 

"Only what Th-," Toro's breath caught for a moment and his grip on Jim's hands tightened, "What he put in that newspaper."

 

"Close enough to the truth. After that I was… gone for a while. And the next thing I knew I had been revived by the West Coast Avengers."

 

Jim shifted a bit, debating how to continue. It was harder since he couldn't read Tom's face or body language.

 

"I'm not totally clear on why. The whole situation was- is very confused. But I know Ann was involved somehow."

 

"Ann?" 

 

"Yeah," Jim smiled, "She's been a great help getting me settled into this time period."

 

"She would be good at that," Tom tried to sound happy, but Jim could hear the slight wavier in his voice.

 

"She misses you," Jim tried. 

 

Toro sighed heavily and Jim could hear the other man shift in front of him.

 

It was quiet for a while, and Jim was becoming increasingly aware of the pounding headache building. Must be because he slammed into that wall.

 

Oh, right. He had slammed into a wall. During a fight. Someone was trying to steal a microscope.

 

With that realization, the world seemed to suddenly pitch on its axis, sending Jim tumbling. He pushed himself to a sitting position again, and called out to his son.

 

“Toro?”

 

He thought he heard an indistinct response coming from somewhere to the left of him. But after crawling that way (he would have stood, but his headache was too bad now) and calling out a few more times it became clear that he wouldn’t find Toro without his eyes. 

 

Fortunately, his eyes finally seemed interested in responding. For a moment Jim’s vision blurred in front of him and he could swear he heard Tom’s voice calling back to him. And then he was sitting up way too fast to find himself in the Avengers’ med wing.

 

Hank was next to him, and must’ve said something but Jim didn’t hear it. After a few minutes the room stopped spinning and the rushing in his ears was gone. And reality had set in.

 

“Jim, are you okay? You took a bad hit out there.” 

 

Jim finally turned to face Dr. Pym, hoping his smile was convincing.

 

“Oh, I’m really fine. These things don't affect me the way they would a human.”

 

"Oh, um okay then."

 

Jim left the confused scientist and started off in the direction of the apartment he was sharing with Ann. But-

 

But he really didn't want to be around her right now either. Jim stood aimlessly in the hallway, uncertain of where he did want to go.

 

A thought came to him and he quickly found a phone in a more private area of the mansion.. once he was sure he wouldn't be disturbed, Jim dialed a number he was surprised he even remembered.

 

"Falsworth manor, how may I help you?"

 

"I was wondering if Lady Jacqueline was available…"

Chapter 4: The Touch

Summary:

After everything that happened with the Namor situation, Jim has some issues to work through, Bucky is realizing that good support systems could literally save the world, and Toro just wants to help his dad.

It's not okay yet, and everyone still has a lot of healing to go, but a step has been taken in the right direction.

Notes:

I am so so so sorry that this chapter took this long. I've been working on it since February and it just would not come to me. I hope the ending still works, even if it is a little rushed. Tale of Two Captains is next on my update list I promise.

Jim was tired. That was it. After weeks of confusion and frustration, fear and burning anger, he was just tired. He thought most everyone was feeling about the same. Steve and Jim had both had maybe a concerning number of drinks for how short their ‘meeting’ had been. Bucky hadn’t finished his first, and no it did not escape Jim that the only one there who could get reasonably drunk didn’t try. He was just too tired to unpack that right now.

 

They’d been looking for some kind of closure in that meeting. But all it’d actually proved was none of them had anything to say to each other. It was sad, watching the team they’d all fought and lived for for so long just disintegrate. Not that anyone was pretending this was sudden.

 

Jim sighed as he arrived at the door of Toro’s apartment. While Jim was able to pass as human with enough layers of clothing, that only worked so long. Point being, he couldn’t just travel the country when the bulk of his body was a fricking iron man suit. 

 

So he’d moved in with Toro.And if they both pretended everything was okay, maybe it actually would be.

 

Neils enthusiastically greeted Jim as he entered the apartment. After a quick glance around to ensure the living room was still standing (Neils had been fairly destructive his first time alone at Toro’s) Jim scooped up the cat and began rubbing his ears gently. 

 

Toro was at work, though he had left some coffee for Jim that was now slightly cooler than lukewarm. Jim heated it with one hand while still cradling the cat with the other. He walked back into the living area where he’d set up his stuff. One glance at his book in progress had Jim regretting getting up this morning, so that probably wasn’t a good idea for now.

 

Instead he sat down on the couch and kept stroking Neils. Jim had been sleeping on the couch since he got here. Toro had offered the one bed- even said they could share it, like old times, when Jim claimed he hadn’t wanted to imposs. But that wasn’t the point.

 

The inescapable facts were that 1) Toro was a cuddler. He liked physical affection- something Jim normally wouldn’t mind if it weren't that 2) Jim was currently made of angular metal sheets, 3) metal isn’t pleasant to sleep on and Toro had enough going on without sleep deprivation, and 4) Jim couldn’t feel it. And that HURT. 

 

He could still tell when stuff was touching him, and usually if it was warm or cold, but aside from his face Jim couldn’t feel anymore. But explaining all that to Toro… it’d just be hard. And it would shatter the silent agreement that nothing was wrong and the past month simply hadn’t happened. So Jim stayed on the couch, and as long as he didn;t pay too much attention things were fine.

 

The sound of the key turning in the lock finally got Jim’s attention. Niels bounded out of his lap and ran to greet Toro as he entered the apartment. Jim stayed seated for a minute listening to Neils purr. Toro was apparently the better ear scratcher, at least in Neils’ opinion.

 

Jim finally stood.

 

“Oh, hey Jim,” Toro was a bit startled, “I didn’t think you’d be back already.”

 

“The meeting ran short.”

 

“Oh, um, okay.”

 

“Do you need help with that?” Jim nodded at the bag of groceries Toro was carrying.

 

“No, I think I’ve got it. But thanks.”

 

Jim ended up following Toro into the kitchen anyways. He didn’t really want to talk- he didn’t have anything to say, either- but it seemed rude to just say hello and go immeadiatly back to sulking.

 

“Sooo. How’s the book coming?” Toro tried to fill the silence while he put groceries away.

 

Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes. Which wasn’t fair really, Toro wasn’t trying to be annoying. So he tried for a neutral tone when he responded.

 

“It’s going fine.”

 

“Okay,” Toro frowned slightly, probably picking up on the slight annoyance Jim was failing to hide.

 

Silence reigned again while Toro finished unpacking the groceries. Neils came over and Jim started petting him.

 

“I don’t have class tonight,” Toro said as he started folding the shopping bag, “If you wanted to watch a movie together or something.”

 

Jim sighed. He didn’t want to be rude but…

 

“I have a headache actually. I think I should probably just get some rest.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Jim walked glumly back to the living room and tried to look like he was sleeping. He didn’t want to hurt Toro, hell he didn’t even really want to be alone. But he didn’t want to talk either. Or be near people. And wasn’t that a lovely mix of overly confusing emotions.

 

-----

 

Surprisingly enough, Jim actually did end up falling asleep after that. He woke up again at 2 in the morning, and couldn fall back asleep. So he got up.

 

As Jim scanned the room for something he could do without waking up Toro, his eyes landed on his cell phone. He hadn’t bothered to check it since yesterday morning, and the screen glared up at him in the dark room.

 

2 unread messages

 

Jim rubbed his left eye (he almost cursed his annoyingly accurate tear-ducts, before being hit with the absolute terror of ‘what if I lose that next?’) and unlocked his phone.

 

The first one was from Jackie, just checking up on him. Jim managed a reply that wasn't untrue or too worrying.

 

The second message was from Reed, about the prospects of getting Jim's body fixed. It was possible but it would take several months. Nothing Jim hadn't already known.

 

But there was something else that caught Jim's eye. His third most recent text conversation was discussing the meeting with Bucky. And Jim really needed someone who might understand right now.

 

So, with a quick glance back at the closed bedroom door, Jim grabbed his keys and phone and left the apartment.

 

--------

 

Bucky had been having probably the worst few weeks since he had his memory restored. Of course, something would come along soon enough to upset that ranking. But this was hard to top.

 

First off, there was a certain… background radiation almost. Because Hydra Steve had almost killed him, twice. And then bombed an entire city out of existence AND more or less made it clear he didn't agree with Inhumans existing.

 

All of the above would've been distressing on their own. Adding in that this was all being dredged back up by one of his other friends deciding terrorism sounded fun.

 

At least the general only had one case and a handful of questions about "the current situation". There was something about telling the General about things that made Bucky feel wrong. Like he was selling out. Technically, he was.

 

Fortunately, his phone rang just then, sparring him that particular line of self destructive thinking. Toro was right, Bucky needed a therapist.

 

Bucky didn't have caller ID- it was a risk in the field and also a hassle, since he switched phones every couple weeks- but he recognized the New York area code. Not Toro or Steve, he had both of theirs memorized.

 

"Hello."

 

"Hi Bucky."

 

"Jim?!" Bucky tried not to sound too surprised, but the two of them didn't really talk that much.

 

"Uh, yeah. Is this a bad time?"

 

"No. What's up?"

 

"Well…" the other man hesitated a moment, "I guess I need some advice?"

 

"Are you okay?" Bucky paused in the process of petting Alpine, who immediately made his displeasure known.

 

"Yes. No," Jim paused again, "it's…. It's sort of complicated."

 

"Okay, do you want to talk about it or…?"

 

"I guess. I don't know, I just have a lot going on and I don't want to talk  to Toro for some reason and I'm just tired."

 

"I mean that seems pretty reasonable considering everything that happened."

 

"It does?"

 

Bucky fought the urge to face palm. He'd forgotten how frustrating dealing with non humans could be sometimes.

 

"You got your head cut off by someone you thought was your friend. Technically, the 'normal response' would be to die almost immediately, but barring that 'grumpy and tired and emotionally drained' sounds fairly reasonable."

 

"Oh. So what do I do to fix it?"

 

"That's a little more complicated. You can't really," Bucky hesitated to consider some options, "Mostly you need to recognize that you need a break. Take time off and do something relaxing and fun. Sleep, sleep is really important. In your case you should probably consider seeing a therapist."

 

"What about Toro? I don't want him to think I'm mad at him." 

 

"Tell him what's going on?" Bucky said like it was obvious. And looking back it probably was. Jim really was being an idiot today.

 

"Okay yeah that makes sense. Thank you, Buck."

 

"Happy to help. Let me know if you or Toro need anything else from me."

 

After Jim hung up, Bucky found himself looking through his collection of burner phones. They were a necessity of his job, but switching numbers every few weeks made it hard to maintain contact with people.

 

And if the Namor crisis had taught him anything, it was how important it was that the old invaders had people to go to. A support system, Toro called it.

 

So Bucky went back to his computer and started looking for a secure, long-term phone.

 

------

 

When Jim got back to the apartment, Toro was already up and making breakfast.

 

"Hey Jim," Toro smiled over at him, "There's coffee on the counter."

 

"Thanks," Jim found his mug and took a long swig. Of course Toro remembered how Jim liked his coffee.

 

Jim glanced back over at his son. For a moment, he considered not having this conversation. Keeping the unspoken agreement going. But he did actually feel better after telling Bucky about things. And he really didn't want Toro to think he was mad.

 

"I um, I wanted to talk," Jim started awkwardly,"About what happened last week."

 

Toro paused in the middle of scrambling the eggs. There was a brief hesitation before he responded.

 

"Okay."

 

Jim took a deep breath. He really should've had some idea what he wanted to say before he started. Oh well, they were here now.

 

"Well, everything that happened has me a bit… overwhelmed is the best word I guess. I just want to make sure you knew it wasn't anything you did."

 

Toro walked over to where Jim was sitting and took Jim's hand.

 

"That's understandable. Take your time, just know that I'm here if you need to talk. About anything."

 

Jim started crying. Because here Toro was being wonderful and accepting as always and all he could think about was that he couldn't feel his son. And now Toro was looking worried again.

 

"S-sorry," Jim stammered out, "This stupid body can't really feel stuff."

 

He found himself staring down at his feet. He didn't want to see Toro's face right then.

 

He was surprised when a warm hand cupped the side of his face. And he could feel it because his face was still his.

 

"What about this?" Toro asked gently.

 

Jim just nodded. Things weren't okay, and they wouldn't be for a while. But Jim was okay with that, because everything was already so much better than yesterday.

Chapter 5: On My Way Back Up

Summary:

This fic has a lot of moments of Toro helping the other invaders through some rough stuff. So, for a change of pace, here are some moments in Toro's life where someone helped him. (And somewhere they help each other.)

 

A bit OC heavy, because there's so much that we don't know about that part of Toro's life. Basically Atsushi is Gwenny's late husband/Kenji's father and Ryan is Ann's brother.

Notes:

Okay i basically frantically googled for the entire section with Dr. Sabuki, so my apologies if you actually know stuff about medicine it's probably wildly inaccurate.

Basically toro has something similar to a traumatic brain injury due to the whole department x stuff, and since it's the 50s no one has any clue about it.

they technically shouldn't know what methsophilioma is either, because despite asbestos being known to cause cancer since the 40s, the spicific type wasn't discovered/named until the 60s.

Brian Falsworth; 1947:

 

A muffled sob caught Brian’s attention as he was walking back to the room he and Jackie were sharing at the Invaders new base in New York. He hesitated for a moment. He knew who it was (and what a world they lived in, where could differentiate the sounds of his teammates crying before he knew their real names. But that was war for you.) but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to interfere.

 

It wasn’t like anyone else was going to notice. Namor was too much of an arrogant bastard and for all Jim claimed to be a detective he was really bad at reading people. Especially this person.

 

“Hey Toro,” Brian tried to lean casually against the door of the base's library. The kid started and did that annoying thing where he evaporated the tears off his face. As if that actually hid anything from anyone who cared.

 

“Hey Brian. Can I help you with something?”

 

Brian sighed and sat down across from Toro. There wasn’t really a great way to phrase this so…

 

“I know you’re upset about something, and I know you won’t talk to Jim about it.”

 

“I’m fine,” Toro glared. Brian raised an eyebrow and waited.

 

“It’s really stupid,” Toro finally started, “And I don’t want to bother you.”

 

“I specifically came in here to see you. You can’t bother someone who’s asking to be bothered.”

 

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”

 

“Roger, on a daily basis. Nice redirection, by the way.”

 

Toro glared again, but there wasn’t as much heat behind it. Pun intended. He looked at the ground before continuing.

 

“I guess I just kind of… miss them still,” Toro didn’t have to say who ‘they’ were, “I know its stupid and they’ve been gone for almost a year.”

 

“That’s not stupid. It’s human,” Brian countered. He was genuinely starting to wonder if having serious issues was one of the requirements to join this team.

 

“I just thought I’d be better at getting over things by now,” Toro confessed quietly, “It should get easier, right?”

 

Brian sighed.

 

“Not necessarily. I’d imagine, if you’ve lost a lot of people, it would actually get harder.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because you don’t have as many people to help you through it.”

 

Toro was quiet for a moment.

 

“I guess that sort of makes sense.”

 

Brian considered how to say this next bit, because it was important. But he also didn’t want to push Toro too much. Grieving was a complicated process and sometimes you really just need space.

 

“If you do need someone to talk to, besides Jim, I’m always willing to listen. I’m not always going to understand or be very helpful, but I’ll listen,” Brian hesitated. He didn’t want to just drop out of Toro’s life too, “Here, I’ll get you the phone number at the manor. That way even when Jackie and I move back to Falsworth you have the option.”

 

Toro smiled slightly.

 

“Thank you, Brian.”

 

------

 

Sam Sabuki; 1955:

 

Dr. Sabuki glanced up from the files he was reviewing when a familiar knock sounded on his office door.

 

“Come in.”

 

The doctor frowned slightly when Tom entered the room. He was supposed to be in class right now, if Sam remembered correctly.

 

“Good afternoon, Tom. Can I help you with something?”

 

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know,” the young man sat down across from Sam. Though ‘young’ might be the wrong word for a 33 year old. 

 

“Okay,” Sam gave Tom a moment to collect his thoughts. The younger man was obviously nervous. And probably upset.

 

“Well, you’re kind of the only doctor I trust,” Tom started. Sam already didn’t like where this conversation was going, “I’ve been having really weird headaches lately, for about the last year I think. I know it isn’t your speciality but I’m getting worried.”

 

“What kind of ‘weird headaches’,” Sam may not be a neurologist but he might be able to tell if something was really wrong. And hopefully he could find a neurologist who Tom kind of trusted. Trust was an unfortunately tough subject with the younger man.

 

“They’re worse than anything else I’ve had, they aren’t really in one place. At first I put them down to stress or however my powers mess up my body, but they’ve been consistent. And then last week I think I blacked out for a minute during one.”

 

Sam frowned. That did sound serious. Tom was really scared.

 

“Have you had a concussion before?” Sam asked. He knew Tom had experienced some pretty serious blood loss before that could be involved, but concussion seemed a more obvious culprit. 

 

“A couple. Well, a lot actually,” Tom frowned, “Seven officially, I think? Let me think.”

 

And Sam’s colleagues wondered why he was so unphasable. It wasn’t better training or more experience, it was his daughter’s best friend’s habit of casually informing Sam of moderately alarming parts of his medical history.

 

“I think at that point the exact number is redundant.”

 

“Probably. But you know how fast I heal.”

 

“Family history of illness?” Sam was taking notes now.

 

“Mesothelioma and radiation poisoning, neither should be genetic though.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“I didn’t even know that much until almost a decade after my parents died.”

 

“Oh,” Sam realized he genuinely didn’t know anything about Tom’s life before the war, “Was there any chance that you were exposed to the catalysts of either of those?”

“Not enough of either of them.”

 

“Any shortness of breath, irregular heart beat, ect?” Sam decided to shift more into his own area of expertise. There was always a chance of cardiovascular and respiratory issues causing all sorts of “weird” symptoms. And the first time Sam had met Tom the younger had a two inch diameter hole in his left lung.

 

“Sometimes yeah. That’s part of why I retired from- the old job.”

 

The second reason hung heavy but unspoken in the air. Sam didn’t even know what had gone down that night. Just that the torch was dead and Tom had burns on his hands when he’d turned up on Gwenny’s doorstep the next morning.

 

“I have a few colleagues who might be able to help more. I can go with you, if you want to schedule an appointment.”

 

“Would you? I mean only if you aren’t busy of course.”

 

“I’d be happy to.”

 

***

 

A week later, Sam and Tom arrived at Sam’s colleague’s office. The younger man was tense as soon as they entered the office. Sam put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’ll be right here. I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think we could trust him.”

 

“I know, it’s just the smell that gets to me,” Tom leaned into the touch slightly.

 

“You’re a medical student. You’re going to have to deal with it daily.”

 

“I’ll probably get used to it,” Tom didn’t sound very certain.

 

“You never told me why you wanted to be a doctor,” Sam shifted the topic, “I’m glad you want to, obviously, but it seems like you have a lot of issues with the medical field.”

 

“I want to help people. Really help people, not just fight whatever war the government decides they want me in. Maybe I can find a way to save people like my parents.”

 

Sam nodded. He admired the younger man’s determination, though he worried Tom wouldn’t be able to overcome whatever it was that made him so nervous in medical settings.

 

***

 

Sam’s suspicions were unfortunately proven correct less than a year later. The headaches had thankfully mostly disappeared, though his neurologist friend couldn’t explain why or how. Sam was once again in his office when Tom came in. He didn’t knock this time, which Sam marked as an immediate red flag.

 

That and how stressed the younger man looked. Stressed and scared. Never a good sign.

 

“What happened?” Sam didn’t bother with formalities this time. He had already gotten up from his desk and made his way over to Tom.

 

“I just-,” Tom looked like he was going to cry, before quietly admitting, “I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Can’t do what?” Sam was fairly certain he already knew.

 

“Med school. I knew it was going to be a lot and I knew I didn’t have the money, but I thought if I could just try it would all work out. But every time I have an observation I’m barely able to think. I don’t even know why I’m scared. But now my grades are falling and I’m going to lose my scholarship soon.”

 

Sam sighed and gently guided him to a chair. He had been expecting this for a while now, though he hated to be right. 

 

“One thing at a time. You haven’t lost the scholarship yet, right?”

 

“No, but if I keep on at this rate it’ll be a few weeks at most,” defeat replaced the frantic tone from earlier

 

“Okay, that gives you some time at least. Do you think it’s possible to raise your grades in that time?’

 

“I don’t know. I just keep getting panicky everytime we have observations. And that makes my hands shake which pretty much rules out my chances of being a surgeon. I can’t stop thinking about it for hours after, like there’s something I should know but don’t and it’s bad. But I can’t remember it and my head hurts when I try.”

 

“So you’re distracted and can’t focus on your work?” Sam guessed.

 

“I’m not trying to be,” Tom got defensive, “And I know the stuff I just-”

“That wasn’t an accusation.”

 

“Right. Sorry.”

 

“You don’t know what’s causing the panic, but you know it isn’t going away with time?”

 

Tom nodded.

 

“It’s likely, and I know you don’t want to hear this,” Sam started carefully, “But medical school might not be for you. A lot of people can’t do it, and especially given your background and situation it's commendable that you even tried.”

 

Tom looked at the ground.

 

“I don’t want to quit. I’ve wanted to be a doctor since I was five. I stuck with the military for so long because I needed the money for med school. If I quit now it was all for nothing.”

 

“Maybe not. Do you have a plan for if you have to quit?”

 

“My two marketable skills are murder and arson,” Tom awnsered frustratedly, “I go back to the military or the circus. If either of them will take me.”

 

“May I propose a third option?”

 

Tom looked up, a bit of hope coming back to his eyes.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You may not be able to get your degree or practice as a doctor, but you have the knowledge. You could get a job filing medical records, or as a receptionist. I know it’s not the most glamorous part of the medical field but you could still help.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“You keep saving me.”

 

Gwenny Lou Sabuki; 1960:

 

Gwenny sighed as she looked up at the daunting form of Falsworth Manor. She and her son had flown to London for a combination reunion party and Penance Council Meeting. Of course, Kenji only knew about half of that.

 

Gwenny smiled at her son in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She would do her best to make tonight fun for him, even if it couldn’t be for her. Not this soon after her father’s death.

 

Lady Jacqueline greeted them at the door. She looked well. Gwenny did her best to make small talk as they walked through the winding halls of the mansion. It’s hard, when you barely know the person you’re talking to. And everything you have in common is tied to people who died over a decade ago.

 

Once they got to the party things got a little easier. Kenji got swept up in a game of tag with Kenneth Falsworth and one of his friends. No one bothered Gwenny for longer than a few minutes to catch up. It was almost sad how empty everything felt. And she knew it wasn’t just her own grief.

 

The heart of everything that had been built here was the Invaders, and none of them were here to see it. Well, Gwenny was fairly certain that one of them was in attendance tonight, even if no one else would ever know. She was looking for him right now, actually, though she wasn’t being very successful.

 

She spotted Roger across the room and decided to ask him. If anyone knew, it would be Roger.

 

“Ms. Sabuki. Can I help you?”

 

“I was wondering if you’d seen Tom tonight,” Gwenny kept her voice low. While she was fairly certain she and Roger were the only two here who knew Toro’s true identity she didn’t want to stir up curiosity. It felt wrong to be so secretive amongst people who should’ve been their friends, but these were the times they lived in.

 

“He is here. He may have gone to the library.”

 

“Thank you, Roger,” Gwenny headed in the direction he had indicated. Luckily it was close at hand and one the few rooms Gwenny actually knew how to get to.

 

She entered the room quietly. And there was Tom, sitting in one of the Victorian era chairs by a panel of floor to ceiling windows.

 

“Thomas?”

 

“Gwenny! How have you been holding up?”

 

“Not great,” she admitted as she hugged her- well boyfriend didn seem an appropriate term for people of their age, but she didn’t have a better word for it. They weren’t engaged or married, or even consistently seeing each other, but they’d moved past ‘friends’ a while ago. Maybe now that Kenji was older and could understand, they would get more serious.

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

“Not really,” she moved to sit in the chair next to where he’d been, “What’re you reading?”

 

“Macbeth.”

 

“Cheery. Is it your first time or?”

“Third. Though it’s much better to see it live.”

 

“Well, we are in London. I’m sure the globe has something going on this week.”

 

“Are you sure you won’t be tied up with,” Tom hesitated for a moment to consider an appropriate euphemism, “With stuff.”

 

“I doubt Aurby will keep us there longer than a few hours. It’s a delicate balancing act to keep everyone on the same team anymore. Did the Invaders ever have problems with that?”

 

“We had Namor,” there was a bit of sadness in Tom’s voice, but it was still a joke.

 

“Anyways, I’m sure Jacqueline would be fine watching Kenji for an evening, if there is a show you’d like to see.”

 

“Oh, so it’s a date?”

 

“If you want it to be.”

 

“I think I’d like that.”

 

***

 

As fate would have it, Kenji’s powers chose to emerge not even a month later. It was a good thing Gwenny had gotten Tom’s newest address, because pyrokinesis was solidly not her thing. And a very good thing no one knew about her and Tom’s relationship. That would be a nasty set of rumors to deal with.

 

How Kenji had ended up with pyrokinesis, given that Atsushi hadn’t had any powers, was an interesting discussion. Most of which boiled down to ‘your powers are weird and have uncertain origins’ and ‘let’s just pray he’s not a mutant’.

 

Kenji was pretty freaked out by the whole thing. He didn’t have much control over the fire he created and Gwenny was well aware of the effects of emotional states on energy powers. Gwenny had elected to esplin her past to him the night his powers manifested, and also why she had chosen not to tell him before.

 

He took the news well enough. At least he had half an explanation of where his powers came from. 

 

Tom got there a few days later. Kenji had met him a handful of times, but this was the first time he knew about Tom’s past.

 

Gwenny smiled slightly as she glanced over at where they were now. Tom had taken Kenji out into the yard and they were slowly working on controlling the flame. Kenji had calmed down a lot since he had met Tom. Having a mentor was really important when it came to powers.

 

Gwenny certainly wished she had one. Instead, Bucky, Toro, she, and Davey had spent a weekend in a warehouse figuring out how the latter two’s powers worked. And then they’d been shipped off to war. She and Toro hadn't even learned that their powers could sync up until the war was over.

 

Tom moved in with them later that month. Kenji was excited, even more so when they told him they were dating. And for the first time since Atsushi died, Gwenny let herself plan past the next year. 

 

Ryan Allen; 1968:

 

Ryan knocked once on the door to the groom’s chambers before barging in anyways. Tom didn’t even jump at the entrance, having long since gotten used to his soon-to-be brother-in-law’s habits.

 

“Hey Ryan. Is it time?” Tom straightened his tie in the mirror and tried to keep his face in a rough approximation of a smile. It looked horribly forced.

 

“Not yet. I just came to talk to you a bit.”

 

“If this is the wet feet talk again, I already told you that’s not an issue.”

 

“No, but there is an issue. I’d like to know what it is before I hand my sister off to you.”

 

Tom wrinkled his nose.

 

“You make her sound like a bag of potatoes.”

 

“Whatever. You know what I meant,” Ryan could be just as stubborn as Ann, which came in use when it came to getting Tom to open up.

 

“I just, and I mean this in the best way,” Tom looked away from the mirror so he wouldn’t even see the reflection of Ryan’s face, “But I sort of expected different people to be involved. I love Ann, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”

“But you worry that it’s too soon?”

 

“It’s always too soon.”

Ryan had heard quite a bit about Tom’s late fiance, a girl he’d met during the war by the name of Gwenny Sabuki. She’d died over five years ago now, but it was clear Tom missed her. And possibly others, he had said people.

 

“You said people, so I assume you meant more than just Gwenny?”

Tom nodded.

 

“Back in the war I got close with this guy. His name was James, and he was probably the biggest idiot I ever met,” a sad smile spread across Tom’s face, “He was KIA the week before Germany surrendered.”

 

Ryan gently put an arm around Tom’s shoulders.

 

“We all have someone we wish was there. At weddings and graduations and everything. It’s part of our generation's world. But for whatever it’s worth, I’m sure he’s pissed he couldn’t make it.”

 

Tom smiled a little.

 

“That he certainly is. Now come on, I’ve got to get married today!”

 

***

 

Halfway around the world, the winter soldier stopped in the middle of a hallway. The strangest feeling had just come over him. As though he was supposed to be doing something important, but couldn’t remember what.

 

He shook it off frustratedly. He had a mission to finish.

Chapter 6: Remember Who All This Was For

Summary:

Namor re-examines his relationship with Toro over the years. A shame it didn't happen under better circumstances.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS-

- Graphic Depictions of Violence
- Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts
- Period-Typical Perceptions of Suicide
- Major Character Death

The violence bit is pretty much everywhere, but I'll mark the other stuff within the text.

It happened in an instant. One moment they were rapping up their mission: Bucky and Steve both talking to the government man, Namor hanging back and trying not to make eye contact with anyone human, Toro was also hanging back, though probably for different reasons.

 

And then there was a shout, a warning that came seconds too late to be any good. The echoing boom of a gun shot, someone pushed Namor down, more shouting and smoke. And then there was Toro, standing between Namor and wherever the shooter was. Dark red spread rapidly across his chest moments before his legs gave out under him.

 

-----

 

Namor was trying very hard to resist putting his fist through the hospital wall. He had failed- failed to spot the shooter, failed to take the hit (the hit that was meant for him, he was certain of it), failed to catch the shooter afterwards… At least Bucky had managed to patch Toro up well enough (Namor decidedly didn’t like how the events this evening echoed another time, decades ago, in Berlin…)

 

Now, Bucky and Steve were working on tracking the shooter, and Jim had gone to the hospital. Namor would’ve been perfectly fine going with the other two, his fists were always better than his heart in situations like this. But Barnes had pulled him aside and quietly suggested that Namor go with Jim.

 

So here he was, watching Jim pace in a hospital waiting room and trying to not attack the drywall. Just perfect.

 

~~~~~

 

Late 30s

 

It’s hard to say when exactly it started, but it became very quickly apparent that Toro wasn’t just going to follow Torch’s lead on everything. He wasn’t going to blindly follow Namor’s either, mind you. At twelve the boy was already expressing his own view on situations quiet readily.

 

Usually, said view went something along the lines of ‘stop fighting eachother and deal with the mass murder who just excaped or I’ll do it myself.’ It wasn’t as effective of an argument as it should’ve been, in hindsight. 

 

After the Python incident it became more convincing though. Namor also started working with the Firebugs more often. He found he liked having the boy around, and Torch was more tolerable when Toro was present.

 

Maybe there relationship had grown beyond that. Namor liked to hope that he and the Torch had something more, at one time. That time ended when Hydra took over America, and their relationship once again fell into orbit around Toro.

 

~~~~~

 

Mid 40s

 

Namor had genuinely thought he could trust the surface dwellers, and they him. He didn’t hold Naslund and Davis in the same esteem he had Rogers and Barnes, obviously. But he thought he had proved himself. He’d obviously thought wrong.

 

All it took was one stupid ‘clue’, planted in such a way it was all too easy to find, and the All Star Scuandron had turned on him. Like all surface dwellers.

 

Well, all but one. When Toro had followed Namor out that night, the prince had assumed Torch had sent the young man to spy on him. He’d forgotten that Toro was a detective too, and a good one. A stubborn good one.

 

It took until the fight in the arctic for Namor to see it. For it to click that Toro was genuinely and fully on Namor’s side. For some reason, that was what let Namor put to words something he had been thinking for almost a decade.

 

“The Torch is lucky to have someone like you around. I am glad you decided to join me.”

 

“You’re not so bad yourself. Now come on, we need to tell the others what we found.”

 

~~~~~

 

The doctor came to talk to Torch almost six hours after they’d gotten there. Namor could make out a few words of what they were saying. ‘Stable condition’ ‘going to be a long recovery’ ‘you can see him now.’

 

Once the doctor gave Jim a room number, the Torch turned to Namor.

 

“Are you coming or..?” Jim asked.

 

Namor blinked, hearing the unspoken request in Jim’s voice. ‘ Please don’t make me do this alone.’

 

“Of course,” Namor stood and followed Jim to the room, pushing down his own dread and guilt. Toro couldn’t hold them together right now, but Namor could try.

 

The hospital room wasn’t bad. It was definitely better than what they’d had during the war.   Namor did his best not to look at Toro. He couldn’t watch the younger man suffering like this for him one more time.

 

“He always looks so young when he’s asleep,” Jim whispered, to no one in particular. He was holding Toro’s hand now.

 

Namor sat down next to the Torch, uncertain of how to respond. Humans (or inhumans, in this case) always seemed so fragile in comparison to Namor or Jim. It was no coincidence that Bucky and Toro were the ones who got hurt the most often. Jim was right, Toro did look young, and small, and painfully breakable.

 

~~~~~

 

******(start suicidal thoughts warning, also period typical everything)*******

 

1954

 

Namor had known something was wrong when Toro contacted him long distance from Nevada. It had been years since anyone but Betty had bothered with the underwater phone connection they’d spent so much time figuring out, and normally if Toro was calling it’d be from the east coast.

 

He still hadn’t expected to be told that Torch was dead, consumed by his own power. Hadn’t expected the deep grief that had quickly turned to horror when Toro admitted not only that he wished it had been him, but he would’ve been happy if it was. That he deserved it.

 

Namor hadn’t known what to do with that at the time, still didn’t. He was terrible at all things emotional and his entire knowledge of suidcide was based on quiet whispers on how tragic and dishonorable it was.

 

So he’d just kept Toro on the phone for as long as he could. He learned many things that night he doubted anyone else knew about Toro.

 

About his parents, how long he’d known they’d been sick, how they died and how everyone the boy had burned since smelled exactly the same. How he had come to be in the circus, and later Jim’s ward. 

 

What really went down in Korea

How messed up the systems on the surface were right now, how they were ruining lives over skin colour and who you loved (the way Toro said that had made certain things about the younger man obvious. Namor hadn’t even dared to think about it. He saw what happened to men like that once people figured out)

 

And then there was Mcarthy, a name Namor learned to hate with burning passion over the period of a few hours. Toro was so sure that without Torch’s protection he would be tried for treason he’d committed in Korea.

 

The idea of a country accusing their own soldier of treason for breaking under tourture made Namor sick.

 

Eventually, Toro ran out of quarters and had to hang up. Namor managed to get him to promise he’d go tell Gwenny in person first though. As soon as the call ended, Namor dialed Betty’s work number.

 

“Hello?”

 

‘The Torch is dead.”

 

“What?! Namor? What happened?”

 

“His power overloaded. You need to go to Nevada, Toro…” Namot trailed off, trying to find the words. Luckily Betty seemed to already have a fairly good idea what he was saying.

 

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Is he staying with anyone?”

 

“He said he would go talk to Gwenny Subaki.”

 

Namor hadn’t heard anymore from Toro after that, though Betty sent him updates for a while. He hoped the younger man was healing, if such a thing was even possible.

 

******* (end suicidal thoughts warning)*******

 

~~~~~

******* (began major character death)*******

 

1969

 

Namor had known when he found Toro that it was the end. There was shrapnel dug deep into the other man’s torso, and burns from where the volcano’s lava was too hot for the pyrokinetic. The sand around his huddled form was dark red with blood. Still, Namor rushed to his fallen friend’s side.

 

“N‘mor?”

 

“I am here.”

 

“Did I- I get h-him?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“I’m not- not going to-”

 

Namor shook his head sadly.

 

“T-tell-ll Ann, p-please.”

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

Toro was quiet then. Namor held his hand until the end came.

 

*******(end major character death)********

 

~~~~~

 

The relative quiet of the hospital room was interrupted by the sound of Jim’s phone alarm going off. THe android, who had been half asleep, jump to his feet in surprise.

 

“Shoot, I forgot to call someone to feed Neils!”

 

“Go ahead, I can stay here.”

 

Jim looked at him in a mixture of surprise and caution. Not fully unwarranted, considering recent actions on Namor’s part. It still hurt, even though it was definitely deserved. 

 

Jim did leave though, dialing a number on his phone even as he closed the door. 

 

“Hey, Johnny. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour…”

 

Namor stared at Toro’s sleeping form. He hated how similar it looked to death. At least he could hear the persistent beeping of the heart monitor. If he focused on that he wouldn’t think about how many things could still go wrong, how many ways he could fail Toro again, prove how unworthy he was of Jim’s trust….

 

~~~~~

 

2009

 

He had heard, first from vision, then Fury, that Toro was back. He hadn’t been sure if he believed it. Sure, Bucky had come back, but that was different.

 

(Now that the story was public, Namor couldn’t help seeing the similarities with Toro’s experience in Korea. The detective in him was already putting together a rough timeline. He didn’t like the picture it was painting, and hoped neither of them ever noticed what he had…)

 

Vision had been perfectly happy to dump a slightly bewildered Toro in front of Namor and then simply vanish with a cryptic one-liner and a puff of smoke. Typical. Still, there was no denying it was Toro.

 

“Hm. I am not displeased that you are no longer dead.”

 

“Uh, thanks? I think.”

 

They had sat on the beach and talked for a while. Toro had a bitterness about him, which while not completely uncalled for was still alarming. Namor did his best not to say too many overly negative things about the state of the world. He remembered Toro’s phone call so long ago. It was strange how much things had gotten better and worse at the same time.

 

Maybe it was just there was so much to be done. They got through the problems that were big and obvious in the 50s. Now, they had to contend with the things that had been overshadowed before. The tiny bits that had slipped past the first wave of repairs.

 

Toro said Namor was starting to sound like an optimist. Namor pretended to be offended, and Toro laughed, and for a moment in time things were okay.

 

~~~~~

 

********(resume suicidal thoughts warning)*********

 

2011

 

It was one sentence. Not something the others would’ve noticed, or at least put much thought into. They didn’t know Toro’s history, and they’d literally all been offering to die at the time. But Namor did know, so he followed Toro after the group split up.

 

“Toro?”

 

“Oh. Hi, Namor.”

 

“Are you… alright?”

 

“Define alright.”

 

‘That usually means no.”

“Let’s go with a hard maybe and a side of I need sleep.”

 

“There is cellular service in Atlantis now. The number is the same as it used to be.”

 

“Oh. Thank you,” Toro smiled at the unspoken offer. It wasn’t a big smile, but it looked genuine.

 

~~~~~

 

They’d stumbled through an awkward decade of half-team ups and betrayals, the five of them. Six, if you count Jackie. Namor had accepted his role in the recent Roxxon v Atlantis mess, he knew he had been wrong, had been a villain, becoming all the things he swore to destroy but…

 

“I forgot you were one of THOSE …”

 

“You always were annoying”

 

“Should’ve put my weapon through your fathers head”

 

He needed to do better. He owed it to the man who had been willing to die for him twice now. The others too. They’d all been through their own hells, and managed to come out as better people. It was Namor’s turn to do one of his least favorite things. He needed to change, for the sake of Toro, and Jim, and the Invaders. And himself.

 

The room was still silent aside from the heart monitor, but Namor made a promise then. He would do better, for all of them. Even the ones who couldn’t be here anymore.

Notes:

Next chapter will be much lighter I promise.

Chapter 7: Bucky Makes A Groupchat

Notes:

Depending on how popular this is, and if i can think up any further shenanigans, the group chat will become a reoccurring series

~Username Key~

Not-An-Alias = Bucky
Flaming Mess = Toro
Sherlock = Jim
Steve_Rogers = Steve
I-AM-KING = Namor

[Not-An-Alias has created a chat]

[Not-An-Alias has added: Steve_Rogers, I-AM-KING, Flaming Mess, and Sherlock]

 

Sherlock: what?

 

Flaming Mess: oh thank God something to do

Flaming Mess: I'm so bored

 

Not-An-Alias: ur in the hospital??

Not-An-Alias: with multiple gsw?

 

Flaming Mess: Welcome to modern medicine, where your not quite human friends don't have to choose between nigh unbearable pain and being literally unconscious every time pain meds are involved!

Flaming Mess: now you have to deal with high idiot me trying to live up to my user

 

Sherlock: it's 3am Toro

 

Flaming Mess: 1 hypocrite much, 2 I slept most of the day, 3 I'm high on pain meds bc I took six bullets for one of you I get to do what I want

 

Not-An-Alias: how are those both very bad and very good arguments at the same time

 

Flaming Mess: everything I know I learned from you =)

 

I-AM-KING: what is this for, Barnes?

 

Not-An-Alias: oh, right

Not-An-Alias: I got a peanut number and we all suck at communication so

Not-An-Alias: … group chat?

 

Steve _Rogers: peanut number?

Not-An-Alias: autocorrect sorry

 

Flaming Mess: not the worst thing you've dragged me into at 3am

Flaming Mess: and this one's legal too

 

Steve _Rogers: I-

Sherlock: if we don't know, we don't have to feel bad about letting them do it

Steve _Rogers: true

 

I-AM-KING: hmm

I-AM-KING: this may be amusing

 

Sherlock: why does that feel ominous?

I-AM-KING: because you are paranoid and short

 

Sherlock: I'm taller than you

Flaming Mess: no Namor s 2.4  cm taller

 

I-AM-KING: ….

Sherlock:.....

 

Not-An-Alias: ok then

Not-An-Alias: how are people doing?

Not-An-Alias: besides high

 

Sherlock: I'm okay. I’ll be through to visit Toro this afternoon.

 

I-AM-KING: I have returned to Atlantis. I am doing well.

Steve_Rogers: I’m good, work’s very busy right now.

 

Flaming Mess: All jokes aside, I think I’m doing okay. Just bored and tired of lying down.

Flaming Mess: What abt u?

 

Not-An-Alias: Very busy with work. 

 

Flaming Mess: Anything I can help with, or is it all confidential?

Not-An-Alias: You’re in the hospital..?

 

Flaming Mess: I’m a detective, buck

 

Not-An-Alias: Oh right

Not-An-Alias: I forgot

 

Flaming Mess: im 90% sure that could be interpreted as an insult but i don’t care enough to do so

Not-An-Alias: Mood

 

Not-An-Alias: Did everyone else just go back to bed or are we being annoying?

Flaming Mess: I think they just went to sleep

Flaming Mess: it is 4 in the morning here

 

Not-An-Alias: ig that makes sense

Not-An-Alias: i haven’t had a normal sleep schedule since…

Not-An-Alias: ever, really

 

Flaming Mess: So thats how you never got messed up by guard shifts
Flaming Mess: you were used to it

 

Not-An-Alias: also i was totally the one stealing the officers coffee

 

Flaming Mess: wait really

Flaming Mess: and you didn’t share? That’s just rude

 

Not-An-Alias: i mean, this is teenage me we’re talking about

Not-An-Alias: ‘rude’ is one of the gentler terms you could use

 

Flaming Mess: eh, you were a jerk. But I was worse and you were fun to be around.

Flaming Mess: anyways what can i do about your insane work?

 

Not-An-Alias: its really not that bad, i just couldn’t think of anything to say

 

Flaming Mess: normal people not that bad

Flaming Mess: or ‘my entire apartment is piled full of work, im working on six project right now, last ate two days ago and haven;t slept in a week BUT i took a shower this morning’ not that bad

 

Not-An-Alias: you’re never going to let that go, are you?

 

Flaming Mess: you passed out

Flaming Mess: you literally fucking passed out on top of me

 

Not-An-Alias: i said i was sorry

 

Flaming Mess: that’s not the point

 

Not-An-Alias: anyways i slept last night, and i had dinner. So normal people not that bad.

Not-An-Alias: if you really want, i do have a side project here that’s a little bit personal

 

Flaming Mess: cool what is it?

Not-An-Alias: check ur dms

 

[Direct Messaging Flaming Mess and Bucky]

 

{Bucky has sent 27 files to the chat}

 

Flaming Mess: Is this..?

 

Bucky: Yeah

Flaming Mess: shit

Bucky: yeah

 

Bucky: you can see why i didn’t want to tell the others

Flaming Mess: yeah

Flaming Mess: ok, yeah, wow

 

Flaming Mess: I’ll see what i can find, though this is a few light years above my paygrade

 

Bucky: if you don’t want to get involved, i understand. 

Flaming Mess: no i want to

 

Flaming Mess: it’s a little bit personal. From more than one angle

 

[The Invaders Chat]

 

Steve_Rogers: you did what?!

Steve_Rogers: @Not-An-Alias 

 

Not-An-Alias: it was a while ago

Not-An-Alias: im doing a lot better now

 

Steve_Rogers: ok, just

Steve_Rogers: please do take care of yourself

Sherlock: what does ‘mood’ mean?

 

[Flaming Mess has sent an image to the chat (it’s a screenshot from urban dictionary)]

 

Sherlock: oh

Sherlock: okay

Chapter 8: A Suspicious Number of Giant Squid 🐙

Summary:

The chat is overtaken by animal pictures.

[The Invaders Chat]

 

[Sherlock has sent 15 pictures to the chat] (all of Neils)

 

Sherlock: Look at him!!

Sherlock: He’s so bouncy! And snuggly!! And cute!!!!

 

Flaming Mess: aww, Neils is a sweetheart

Flaming Mess: I wish I had a cat

 

Not-An-Alias: what’s stopping you?

 

[Not-An-Alias has sent 6 pictures to the chat]

 

Flaming Mess: I just got home from a three week hospital stay buck

 

Not-An-Alias: fair

 

[Sherlock has sent 3 pictures to the chat]

 

Sherlock: you can watch him next time i’m on a mission

 

Flaming Mess: wouldn’t want to deprive Johnny of the pleasure

 

I-AM-KING: Johnny Storm?

 

Flaming Mess: Yeah, he loves Neils, and cats in general. 

Sherlock: he spoils Neils rotten

Flaming Mess: you say like i wouldn’t

 

Flaming Mess: He’s a pretty cool guy honestly. We should hang out more often.

 

I-AM-KING: Are we talking about the same Johnny Storm?

 

Sherlock: I would hope so

 

Flaming Mess: don’t you have a giant squid or something

 

I-AM-KING: yes

[I-AM-KING has sent 6 pictures to the chat]

 

I-AM-KING: She is a truely majestic being

 

Steve_Rogers: why is the chat full of squid?

 

Flaming Mess: namor’s showing off his pet

Flaming Mess: i think she’s cool

 

Sherlock: she attacked you

 

Flaming Mess: after you unintentionally unleashed her on atlantis

 

Flaming Mess: circumstances aside, she’s the nicest giant squid i’ve ever met

 

Not-An-Alias: How many giant squids have you met??

 

Flaming Mess: hmmm

Flamig Mess: prefer not to say

 

Not-An-Alias:....

Steve_Rogers:....

 

Not-An-Alias: okay so anyways

Not-An-Alias: appreciate my cat

 

[Not-An-Alias has sent 8 photos to the chat]

 

Steve_Rogers: Alpine!!

Sherlock: He’s so cute!

 

[Direct Messaging Not-An-Alias to Flaming Mess]

 

Not-An-Alias: okay but seriously how many?

 

Flaming Mess: what?

 

Not-An-Alias: how many giant squids?

 

Flaming Mess: I’m still not telling you

 

Not-An-Alias: how have you made this suspicious?

 

Flaming Mess: i’m preserving my mystic

 

Not-An-Alias: What mystic?

Not-An-Alias: you’re famous for setting yourself on fire while wearing a speedo and heeled boots

 

Flaming Mess: oh shut up you looked stupid too

 

 

Flaming Mess: In other news, channel 5 news has shit security and the us gov is shady as fuck

Flaming Mess: also roxxon is corrupt but what else is new

 

[Flaming Mess has shared three files]

 

Flaming Mess: this took me less than a week

 

Not-An-Alias: know any witnesses that might have heard Kaitus and the senators argument.

 

Flaming Mess: not sure if i can find that without being suspicious, but maybe

 

Not-An-Alias: If not we’ll just put this in as an ‘anonymous tip’

Not-An-Alias: I’d just prefer it if there was more evidence before we try to make a case

 

Flaming Mess: check out the senator’s accounts, see if you can find something there

Flaming Mess: I’ll see if I can make some guesses who the other politicians mentioned might be

 

Not-An-Alias: The tracks will be well covered but i’ll see what i can do

 

Chapter 9: "Sandwiches" (chat fic part 3)

Summary:

The investigation continues and Steve and Jim are starting to suspect something.

[Alias 666 has added Flaming Mess to Mission Chat]

 

Alias 666: Okay so I’ve found the money trail

Alias 666: I’m looking into every other politician who was vocally anti-atlantis to see if we can make a case

 

Spider Queen: I can take some of those

Alias 666: okay i’ll send u a list

Alias 666: if you could get some confessions too that’d be awesome

 

Spider Queen: I’ll try

 

Alias 666: @ Flaming Mess what do you have?

 

Flaming Mess: a migraine, it’s 2 am buck

 

Flaming Mess: but yeah some people overheard some shady dealing, don’t know if they’ll come forward with it though

 

 

 

[The Invaders Chat]

 

Sherlock: hey steve, are you getting a feeling?

Steve_Rogers: definitely

Steve_Rogers: they’re up to something

 

I-AM-KING: i thought you were keeping an eye on them

 

Flaming Mess:...

Flaming Mess: you do know we’re in this chat too

 

Sherlock: and are you up to something?

 

Flaming Mess: ….does making a sandwich count?

 

Steve_Rogers:hmm

Sherlock: hmmm

 

Steve_Rogers: definitely up to something

Sherlock: yep

 

Flaming Mess: i’m muting you both

 

Sherlock: Have fun with your “sandwich”

 

 

[Direct Message: Flaming Mess to Not-An-Alias]

 

Flaming Mess: do you think they really know something’s up?

Flaming Mess: I mean we mentioned part of this in the main chat

Flaming Mess: jim still crashes at my place sometimes, he could’ve seen something

 

Not-An-Alias: I doubt it

Not-An-Alias: Besides, having jim in on this wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing

 

Flaming Mess: No!

Flaming Mess: i can’t bring him into this again

 

Not-An-Alias: Again?

 

Not-An-Alias: Toro?

Chapter 10: Worried About Him (Prologue)

Summary:

Starting a proper story arc in this so called one shot collection? Yeah that sounds like something I'd do.

Notes:

Hey y'all its been ummm a minute lol. I'm in college now! And I'm still writing ooc Toro angst so I think I've lived up to all of middle school me's dreams lol
Anyways I just wanted to say thank you to y'all for reading/kudoing/commenting and everything else!

[Direct Message: Alias 749 to Spider Queen]

 

Alias 749: What do you know about Dept X in Korea?

 

Spider Queen: That was before my time, but some. Is this about your friend?

 

Alias 749: So you knew

 

Spider Queen: I assumed you did

 

Alias 749: I suspected, now I know

 

Spider Queen: Do you think they’re involved in the investigation?

 

Alias 749: Doesn’t matter.

 

Spider Queen: It was over 70 years ago, I doubt anyone will be left alive

 

Alias 749: And yet we’re here

 

[The Invaders Chat]

 

Sherlock: Is it me or has it been quiet here lately?

 

I-AM-KING: Some of us have jobs

 

Sherlock: …I have a job?

 

Steve_Rogers: Busy work week + Buck’s out of coms

Steve_Rogers: “Pulling a thread”

 

I-AM-KING: ….

Sherlock: ….

 

[Unnamed Group Chat]

 

[Sherlock has added I-AM-KING, Steve_Rogers]

 

Steve_Rogers: ?

 

Sherlock: You’re worried about him

 

Steve_Rogers: Yes

 

Sherlock: Do you want to talk about it?

 

Steve_Rogers: It’s nothing new

Steve_Rogers: I just wish he’d get a chance at a normal life, instead of always spying and assassinating for someone

 

Sherlock: Unfortunately the normal life doesn’t seem to like any of us

 

I-AM-KING: Except Toro

 

Sherlock:....