Chapter Text
Bucky moves the food around his plate without eating anything. The atmosphere is tense to say the least – visible in Sam’s tight jaw, audible in Bruce’s deep breathing. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out, hold it. Repeat. Steve has excused himself politely and sprung out of the common area stomping heavily, his body exuding anger despite his cordial tone. He looks up and meets Hawkeye’s eyes. He has never trusted him, not for a minute, but now there’s more in his eyes than just suspicion – there’s resentment. Clint holds Bucky’s gaze and purses his lips tight, his nostrils flaring. Normally, Bucky would accept the stare-down, but after today there is no more fight left in him. He breaks the connection, looking down at his plate, and hears Clint huff and then get up. Bruce follows closely after, and then it’s just him and Sam left. Silence stretches out uncomfortably, and he finally gives up on his meal and puts the fork down.
“Ain’t your fault,” says Sam, but his voice sounds as if he were trying to convince himself.
Bucky doesn’t say anything.
He goes up to his rooms and lays down on the sofa, rubbing his eyes. All the heightened emotions have washed away, leaving him tired and numb. His shoulders and neck are aching, and he hangs his head down the armrest, trying to relieve the tension.
“J?” he tries and feels no surprise at the silence that follows. Summoning some courage, he tries again, “JARVIS?”
“Yes, Sargent Barnes?” the voice answers this time and how odd to think that what is essentially a robot voice can sound bitter, but it does.
“Is he okay?” he asks, feeling embarrassed at how weak and stupid the question sounds. The AI is silent for a few seconds, before answering, “Sir has made it to his Malibu residence safely, if that’s what you’re asking.”
A small, sad laugh leaves his mouth.
“It’s not,” he whispers, not really expecting an answer. He brings both his hands to his face, hanging his head ever lower, relishing in the sensation of blood rushing down to his head. A quiet buzz fills his ears and for a moment, his head is free from thoughts and the anxiety in his chest lets up a tiny bit.
“Then I think you realize that he is not, as you put it, okay,” the voice startles him, as does its tone. Can JARVIS actually hold a grudge? Can he get angry? He can hear Tony’s voice in his head, saying, it’s just a program, Barnes, just a whole lotta digits, but Bucky’s always felt like JARVIS had to be more than that. He’s not so sure a mere program could make him feel so guilty.
It's not just JARVIS, though. The whole tower feels suddenly empty and unwelcoming without its host in it. A hotel, more so than a home. It makes him think to his first days here, barely a few months back, when everything felt foreign, and he was constantly on edge.
Crazy, how things change.
For a while, he really thought he’d be happy here. That he’d have a life.
***
“It’ll be alright, Buck,” Steve said confidently as he was stepping out of the Quinjet, although his eyes were jumping around, and Bucky could see that worried frown forming between his eyebrows again.
He didn’t give any reaction to Steve’s words, not now and not at any point earlier. He wasn’t completely sure how Steve found him, but he supposed Steve and co. weren’t short on funds. Once he showed up Bucky had no interest in evading him any longer. He’d been on a run for over a year, taken himself all over Eastern Europe, and he was done running. Steve got him in Romania, where Bucky acted on his first instinct and fought him but capitulated soon enough. Once he spotted the Falcon and the Widow, he gave in, letting them apprehend him and put him on a jet to New York.
On the way, Steve talked a lot and Bucky not at all. He rambled nervously, the way he used to do before whenever a girl approached him. There was a new thought that Bucky immediately knew to be true. He looked at Steve’s face and tried placing it in a different timeline. He would be smaller, and his hair would be different, and perhaps he’d be blushing, but the rest would be the same – the frown between him eyebrows, worried gaze, lips curling unevenly in a nervous manner.
The thought came to him in the same manner all his memories did – detached, lonely. The same way he remembered his mom was a good cook but couldn’t remember ever having a meal with her. He remembered he had a sister named Becca, but her face and personality were lost to him. He remembered the war, but not how it felt to be fighting it.
For a while, he was hoping the memories would come back; that he’d be able to chase after them and catch them – but they weren’t getting any closer. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t fight when Steve came after him. He was done looking and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.
They stepped out onto the roof of the Avengers Tower and the cool evening air brought a shiver down Bucky’s back but a smile to his face. He looked out towards the city, taking in the view of lit up Manhattan. The view comforted him, even as the idea of facing the Avengers started to become more real and inevitable by the minute. They’d do right by him, he thought. He could almost believe it.
“We should’ve warned them,” said the Widow as she walked towards the entrance to the elevator. Steve sighed heavily to that.
“Yeah, well,” he started, his gaze still hanging onto Bucky’s profile. “I thought it best to keep this under wraps for as long as we could. I want to have him settled by the time the WSC finds out.”
Bucky turned around just in time to catch the dubious look the Widow exchanged with Falcon. He didn’t believe the World Security Council would be so easy to get off his back, either, but Steve seemed confident they would pardon him.
He followed them into the tower before they could call on him, as if to hang onto the illusion he was making his own choice. The elevator was all glass and hologram buttons shining a bright, blue light.
Stepping into it felt like he was stepping into the future.
***
They walked through the Tower in silence. Bucky wasn’t sure what difference it would make to have its inhabitants discover his presence a day later, but he kept his opinion to himself and followed Steve quietly towards his quarters. He entered and saw the hesitant looks on the Widow’s and Falcon’s faces. He couldn’t blame them.
“We’ll be fine,” Steve assured them. “You guys can go. Better get some rest. Tomorrow might be… intensive.”
They nodded, said their goodbyes, and left. And then it was just the two of them.
Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about the situation. He didn't exactly spend the last few decades in touch with his emotions. Awkward wasn’t exactly the right word, although it fell pretty close. He walked around, putting on what he hoped was a relaxed demeanor, doing his usual exits-windows-hazards checklist.
He moved back towards Steve, who was still standing by the door, clearly hoping for Bucky to break the silence he so carefully maintained through the whole way from Romania.
“It’s nice,” Bucky obliged and gestured around the room. Steve’s face lit up immediately as he nodded with excitement.
“It really is, isn’t it?” Steve relaxed now, as if Bucky saying two words was enough to break down all those walls between them. “I still miss your ma’s place in Brooklyn, but I have to say I appreciate the comforts. Tony even built me a little art studio. You’ll get whatever you want, too, I’m sure. If you decide to stay, that is.”
Bucky couldn’t really handle looking that far into the future and it seemed that Steve also wished he’d bitten his tongue.
“Right, so, you can take the bedroom and I’ll stay here on the sofa. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry and I already laid out some clean towels for you in the bathroom.”
Bucky was surprised, not so much by the hospitality but the apparently dumb confidence Steve must have had to truly believe Bucky would be coming home with him. He thought to the scraps of memories he had of him. Was he always stubborn like this? Yes, yes, he was, Bucky decided, and felt glad to have remembered it.
“I’ll take the sofa,” he said, catching Steve off-guard. “You’ve done enough.”
Steve opened his mouth to disagree, but Bucky already moved towards the sofa and started dressing it with the duvet and pillow laying on the chair beside. Steve capitulated, obviously drained and not looking forward to the next day.
“Okay,” he nodded. “Sleep well.”
He went into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, letting Bucky exhale for the first time in hours. It was tense, being around Steve. He clearly remembered much more than Bucky did, especially about Bucky himself. He felt like at any time he’d do or say something wrong and stray further from the person Steve wanted him to be.
At the same time, however little he remembered of the time before, Steve was in the center of it all. There was a bond there, he understood, a bond that had seemed, at one time, indestructible.
Bucky headed into the bathroom, marveling at the floor-to-ceiling marble. He knew there were rich people in the world, he’d even killed several of them, but he’d never before been allowed to use their space. He undressed hurriedly, nearly running into the gigantic shower. He got annoyed initially, not sure how to work the apparatus that seemed too high-tech in a bathroom, but once he got it figured out, he felt the happiest he had in many years. He turned up the heat till it nearly burned him and maxed out the pressure, enjoying the water massaging his body. A hot shower with good water pressure was a luxury and he indulged in it until the heat made him dizzy.
After he dried himself and put on some clothes that Steve laid out for him – they must have been his own, if the way the t-shirt was hanging on Bucky was any indication – he sat down on the sofa, knowing he wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t mind it. Instead, he looked out the window, once again appreciating the New York skyline. It was still lit up and he knew it would remain so, which comforted him. He looked up to the sky, which in turn looked grey and empty. You gain some, you lose some, he thought.
When Steve got up, Bucky was exploring the kitchen annex and trying to work the coffee machine. Like everything else around here, it seemed way too technologically advanced for the simple job it was supposed to do.
“Good morning,” Steve greeted him, sounding cautiously optimistic. “Let me help you with that.”
Bucky stepped aside, sending a small smile Steve’s way in lieu of greeting.
“Black, one sugar?” Steve asked. “You still take it that way?”
Bucky was dumbfounded at the question. He couldn’t remember ever having a coffee preference or expressing it. He drank coffee the way he could get it. Any way.
Still, he nodded and accepted the coffee he used to drink in another life. He muttered a thank you, which seemed to give Steve a hefty shot of optimism.
“So,” he started, the frown appearing between his eyebrows and his voice taking on that Captain America tone. “Today, you’ll meet the team. They’re good people. Everyone’s here, except for Thor. They’ll help us with your… situation.”
Bucky nodded, not wanting to question Steve’s plan, if one could call it that. Ever since he was picked up, he had the feeling that Steve was winging the whole thing, not really having any idea where any of this could lead. But then again, perhaps there really wasn’t another way to go about this.
“You ready?” Steve asked and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky did his best not to flinch at the touch and had his efforts rewarded with a small, hopeful smile from Steve.
“Yeah,” he managed to say. He opened his mouth to continue, but for whatever reason he found that he couldn’t.
Bucky followed Steve into another blue-lit elevator. He felt himself getting nervous, something he hadn’t felt for years. He had a hard time imagining a life with the Avengers, but it seemed completely impossible to imagine one where they turn him down. Would he have to go back to living the way he was the last couple months, always on the run?
The elevator door opened and interrupted his spiral. He could make out several voices now, talking and laughing, clearly unaware where the day was about to lead them. He could hear Steve take a deep breath and step forward, so he followed suit.
The came into a big open space, loosely divided into a kitchen, a dining, and a recreational space, all stylishly furnished in light wood, glass, and warm earth tones. Everyone was in the kitchen, lounging with their morning coffees or eating at the island. There were only four people and two of them he met already. Widow was the first to spot them, and he could see her demeanour change instantly as readied herself for whatever scene was about to play out.
“Morning, team,” said Steve with confidence. “I have some news.”
The two men sitting at the island turned around to greet Steve, their expressions going from friendly to confused to vigilant within milliseconds. Hawkeye and the Hulk, Bucky identified them quickly and became immediately wary of both.
“We’ve found Bucky,” Steve continued, paying no mind to the shift in the atmosphere. “He’ll be staying with us for the time being.” Steve’s tone took no objection and so the men sat in a bewildered silence for a few uncomfortable seconds. The man who was the Hulk reacted first.
“Oh, dear,” he said, and Bucky had trouble connecting his soft features and voice to the green smashing monster. “I think Tony should be here for this. JARVIS, could you get him?”
“Certainly, Dr Banner,” a disembodied voice coming from seemingly all directions answered him. “Sir is now on his way.”
The voice startled Bucky, and its all-encompassing quality felt invasive. He became tense, looking around as if readying himself for a fight.
“It’s just JARVIS,” said Steve, as if that explained anything. “He’s Tony’s AI butler. He’s not a threat.”
Bucky felt very differently but forced himself to calm down. He could see his little episode agitated Hawkeye, who was now half off his stool and holding onto his butterknife tightly. Bucky had no doubt he could do some damage with that. He read the man’s file once, back when he was HYDRA’s.
“I’m sorry, did you just, like, bring him here without telling anyone?” Hawkeye looked at Steve making no effort to conceal his outrage. “You can’t possibly be serious. He tried to kill y’all a few months back.”
“Well, he’s not trying to kill us now,” Steve answered, his confidence unwavering. “And I most definitely told someone. Natasha and Sam knew.”
Hawkeye turned around, casting an accusatory glance towards the Widow.
“The hell, Nat?” he exclaimed, but whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by another person joining them.
“Good morning, beloved,” a voice came from across the rec room, cheerful and clearly unaware of what was about to meet him. “Are we in a crisis? JARVIS said you children had a crisis.”
Bucky immediately identified the man as Tony Stark. Iron Man. Howard’s boy. Influenced by his public persona, Bucky expected the man to enter in a smart suit with perfectly styled hair. He felt silly when confronted with the reality of Stark being at home, walking around barefoot in a washed out Iron Maiden t-shirt. After decades of working in patterns, Bucky's brain made a quick job of assessing his threat level and finding weak spots. The blue circle glowing faintly through his shirt was the biggest one. It was was powered the suit, Bucky realized, although he never expected it to be permanently attached to the man.
Stark stopped in his tracks when he noticed Bucky and for a second seemed at a loss for words. He quickly gathered his bearings, walked into the kitchen, and made himself coffee, letting the silence stretch out. Everyone was waiting for his reaction, Bucky realized. It said Avengers on the tower, but Stark on all the papers. His word carried some weight. Bucky looked to Steve and saw the tension in his shoulders and jaw. He clearly hoped for a positive reaction.
Stark perched himself on the counter next to the Widow, took a sip of his coffee and looked at Steve with a wide grin.
“So, my dear Captain,” he started. “Is this the infamous assassin, HYDRA terrorist and international fugitive known as the Winter Soldier I’m seeing behind you? And the answer better be, no, Tony, you’re hallucinating.”
Steve sighed heavily.
“You knew I was looking for Bucky,” said Steve. “What did you think I was going to do when I found him?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” exclaimed Stark. “Not bring him into a place that houses sensitive information, weaponry, and all of Earth’s mightiest? Is that too much to ask?”
“Tony,” started Steve, his tone shifting to pleading. “Where else would I take him? They’d lock him up and you know it.”
“Well, maybe they should!”
Stark laughed in disbelief and dragged a hand across his face.
“How did I not know about this? Did you know about this?” He asked the Widow, and his face showed no surprise when she nodded to confirm. “Did you?”
He was looking at Hawkeye now, who shook his head and brought his hands up in a defensive gesture.
“JARVIS, how did I not know about this?” he looked up and Bucky braced himself.
“Last night you asked not to be disturbed unless the world was ending, Sir,” that disembodied voice answered, and Bucky flinched again. “I assessed that Sergeant Barnes’ arrival was not threatening world security.”
Stark exhaled, clearly annoyed.
“I don’t want what you want me to say, Steve,” he threw his arms up. “You’re harbouring a fugitive.”
“Technically, you are,” answered Steve. “And you all know damn well that he’s guilty of none of the things he’s wanted for. He’s not a danger.”
“Do we really know that, though?” said Hawkeye, scrunching up his face. “I personally feel like I don’t know that at all. Do you know that, Bruce?”
“Please, don’t involve me in this,” said the man who was the Hulk, slumping his shoulders and looking as if he wanted to hide.
Stark laughed bitterly, looking at Steve with accusation in his eyes.
“We’ve been hitting all those HYDRA bases and coming up with nothing, because you told us to,” he jumped off the countertop now and started walking towards Steve. “I gave you tech, money, and a lot of my precious time. And you couldn’t extend the simple courtesy of warning me about this?”
“We got a lead and we acted on it, Tony,” said Steve. “It wasn’t some grand deception you’re making this out to be.”
It was the wrong thing to say, Bucky knew that immediately. Stark huffed in disbelief and looked around his teammates faces.
“Are you all hearing this? Or am I crazy?”
“Both,” said Hawkeye, staring at Bucky with distrust.
Stark rolled his eyes, but let it slide as he came nose to nose with Steve. Steve was towering over him, and yet Stark did not seem intimidated in the slightest, projecting an air of importance and confidence.
“This is serious, Rogers,” he said, looking Steve straight in the eyes. “WSC wants this guy. You could go down for this.”
“Which is why I need your help,” Steve talked quietly now, addressing Tony with intensity. “We need time to prepare, without WSC getting involved.”
Tony laughed again, shaking his head, and moving away from Steve.
“He is my friend, and he needed my help,” Steve continued. “And now I’m asking you to do the same for me. All of you.”
Stark had his back turned on them now, standing in front of the counter and looking expectantly at the Widow.
“What’s your stance on this?” he asked quietly. “You think he’s a danger?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered without hesitation. “But I still think we should do this.”
Stark turned around and was looking at him now.
“So, Terminator,” he addressed him. “You gonna kill us in our sleep?”
Bucky felt the attention of everyone in the room turn to him, waiting for him to react. He looked quickly to Steve, who was smiling encouragingly, coaxing him to speak up. He opened his mouth, but once again, no words came out. So instead, he looked up to Stark with as much confidence as he could muster and shook his head. No. He wouldn’t.
Stark downed his coffee, put the mug in the sink and started moving out towards the elevator.
“I’ll think about,” he said on his way out.
Everyone else followed him, until it was just Bucky and Steve left. Steve looked at Bucky then, with a smile that seemed way too confident after that exchange.
“He’ll help us,” he said with confidence, his smile growing. “It’ll be okay.”