Chapter Text
“What have you got for me, Tony?” Steve says tiredly into the phone. He had barely gotten three hours of sleep before his cell rang; it was the secure phone, used only for his mission.
“Reports of gunfire, explosions, and a base in the mountains just north of Svalyava, close to the Slovakian border, less than 30 minutes ago. It could be him, it fits the pattern.”
Steve sighed. They had exhausted every lead from the Kremlin file Natasha had given to him, now they were relying only on intel from Tony, Hill, or Coulson. Mostly the intel was rumours and speculation that it might be HYDRA. Since SHIELD fell, and HYDRA with it, intel has been spotty and separating SHIELD from HYDRA was becoming more and more infuriating.
“All right. Thanks Tony, we’ll check it out. Thank you for the jet again.” Steve hung up the phone and rubbed his face. Nothing sounded better than another 12 hours of sleep, but he couldn’t chance missing him. Of course there was no guarantee it was him… Steve pushed that thought away. If he gave up hope, it’d be like Bucky falling from that train all over again. He glanced over to the other bed where Sam was sleeping peacefully, snoring lightly as was his habit, and felt guilty. Sam had been nothing but supportive and kind this whole mission, the past year almost, but he was not a super soldier. He did not have the endurance that Steve did. Steve had seen him exhausted and ran into the ground for him, and still he refused to back down. Steve knew that deep down Sam wasn’t doing it for him, he wasn’t even necessarily doing it for Bucky, he was doing it for Riley, he was doing it for all soldiers lost in combat whether KIA, MIA, or POW. He was doing it because if there was even the smallest chance he could save Riley he would do so in a heartbeat. That he would turn the world upside down to not lose his wingman. And Steve knew that he would help Sam do so.
They were up in the air in less than an hour.
---
Tony turned back to the coffee maker in his lab, his 7th cup that night.
“Ah! Of course the damn thing is empty!” He made a big show up thumping around looking for more coffee before JARVIS announced in his calming British accent
“Sir, you have depleted the reserves of coffee in the lab. There is plenty of Columbian in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, JARVIS” Tony muttered in responce and began his trek up to the kitchen.
He was much quieter in the kitchen, he didn’t want to wake Pepper. Intellectually he knew that he would not, but the custom against being loud in a home when someone is sleeping is one that Tony actually respects. In keeping with this, he only turns on the lights over the cabinets, leaving the other half in shadow.
“Ah, finally, here we go” He said, pulling a bag from one of the cabinets “come back to the lab with me, you fine piece of—“
Abruptly he stopped when he saw the light reflect of a metal surface, a metal surface on his decidedly not metal table, his not metal table in his kitchen. He swallowed thickly and managed to choke out “JARVIS lights” to flood the room with light.
What he saw stopped him in his tracks. All he could do was stare as HYDRA’s words played in his mind ‘Howard and Maria Stark die in car crash’, ‘when history didn’t cooperate it was changed’, as he stared at the man ostensibly responsible for the murder of his parents.
He didn’t have time to call the new suit he was working on. There was no way JARVIS could get anyone here in time that was capable of dealing with the assassin. There might not even be time for him to tell JARVIS to tell Pepper he loves her.
Tony swallowed again, not breaking eye contact with that icy blue stare. The longer this went on, the less panicked he became, the more logic started to prevail. If the assassin had wanted him dead, he’d be dead already. There’s no point in drawing out a kill like this. He must want something from Tony.
Tony cleared his throat “Can I make you some coffee?” unknowingly mimicking Pierce in his offer, but his offer was genuine. The assassin simply shook his head. “Mind if I make some?” again, the headshake. Tony used the time he made the coffee to gather his wits about him, wondering how the assassin managed to get past his security protocols and why JARVIS had not alerted him to the intruding presence. He made a mental note to ask, once he figured out what was going on. He poured a generous amount of whisky into his cup and made his way back to the table, his movements slow and deliberate, hands visible. The closer he got the more he realised the soldier was nearly as jumpy as he.
Tony took the seat opposite the soldier and waited. He knew, from his own experience, that when someone with PTSD is ready to talk, they will talk. Halfway through his cup, the assassin held out his arm.
“I don’t know how to fix it myself” he said, his voice rough and cracked, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while.
Tony was not expecting that. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, reaching for the bionic hand. As he made contact, the hand jerked away with the telltale sounds of servomotors in need of service.
The soldier’s eyes darted from side to side and Tony could see he was fighting with the urge to run, the urge to strike, and the urge to not pull away.
“It’s ok” Tony started “it’s, I mean, I won’t, there’s nothing, I mean, I know you came here for help and I will help you, I know you’re uncomfortable so we’ll just go slow, ok? I’m gonna sit in that chair there, ok?” he gestures to the seat next to the assassin who gave a short nod.
“Ok, now I’m just gonna look at your arm, ok? I won’t touch it, I’ll just give it a visual inspection, ok?” he carefully kept eye contact and spoke clearly and softly, enunciating so the man could understand everything that was about to happen, and (hopefully) that Tony would not hurt him.
After a cursory visual inspection of the arm, Tony could see that several of the joints (he termed thus for lack of a better one) were bent, there was circuitry exposed, what looked like burn marks from overheating. He was terribly fascinated and all he wanted to do was grab the arm and haul it, with its owner, to his lab and tinker for days on end.
“Ok, I can see some of the things that are wrong. Can you move it? Like, full range of motion, can you move all your fingers?”
He was rewarded with a demonstration: the assassin could move his arm up to shoulder height, the elbow only bent about 45 degrees, and his fingers could not close all the way to grasp anything. Tony sighed.
“Ok. I’m certain I can repair your arm, but I’m not sure how involved the process would be.” He flashed back to Steve’s description of Pierce’s vault when they’d raided it: the chair where they’d tortured this man, how they’d lock him down and fry his brain – forcefully Tony stopped that train of thought. He would not torture this man, but he needed more information.
Not thinking he called for JARVIS again.
The soldier flinched and jumped up from the chair, glancing furtively around for the interloper.
“Buck – um – James – um hey no it’s ok, it’s just um. It’s a computer, that talks to me, there’s no one here but you and me bud I promise you. It’s ok, can you sit back down?” He gestured to the chair.
The soldier eyed him warily, took in all the corners and hiding places in the room before taking his seat again.
“I’m sorry, I um, I wasn’t thinking. I’m going to ask JARVIS, my computer, to help me look at your arm. Is that ok?”
The soldier nodded.
“Ok, good. JARVIS, are you able to scan Buck – er. His arm?”
“Yes sir, I have run several scans on Master Barnes’ arm. It is comprised of a titanium alloy, similar to your suits, though I am detecting some vibranium, the element that Master Rogers’ shield is made from. There looks to have been upgrades over the years as I am detecting carbon-fiber reinforcements. The internal circuitry is quite complex, however I am certain there will be no problem in replicating what is needed to repair the damage to Master Barnes.”
“Thank you JARVIS,” Tony began, noticing how the man flinched at each ‘Master Barnes’ and even at ‘Master Rogers’; “are you able to tell if his arm is…” he faltered and then stopped. He was going to ask if the arm could come off, but the look on the assassin’s face stopped him. He knew the man already felt like he had been shattered into a thousand pieces and he didn’t want to actually remove a piece from him, at least not without a thorough discussion first.
“JARVIS, are you able to scan and determine how his nervous system is connected to his arm?”
“Sir, without a deeper scan, I am afraid I cannot with any certainty provide that information to you. I can, however, inform you that much of his skeletal system has been reinforced with the same titanium alloy and carbon composite, and his muscular structure and tendons have also been synthetically reinforced. Without this, I am certain his arm would not be able to be supported by his body.”
Tony let out a low whistle. He had suspected, after what Sam had told him happened on the freeway, but there was no way to be sure without a direct inspection. He watched the assassin carefully, who had returned to his impassive face, as if the talk about his body were not of consequence.
“So, good news, we can definitely repair your arm for you” he gave a tentative smile; there was little responce. “I uh. Can you… feel? With it? Like have proper sensation?”
Slowly, the soldier made eye contact. Tony held it again, waiting patiently.
“I can… feel. It’s… different.” The man swallowed and after several minutes Tony realised that was all he would get.
“Do you feel… pain?”
The soldier swallowed again, Tony could see his Adam’s apple bobbing, him wanting to say something, but afraid. It was all the answer he needed. He silently cursed Pierce for the hundredth time since he’d seen the assassin in his kitchen.
“It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it. I do not want to hurt you. At all. Ever. All I want to do is help you. So I will offer you a choice. I can give you drugs that will either relax you or put you to sleep so when I work on your arm you aren’t… as aware, we can not do the drugs and you can be… awake for the process, or we can do nothing at all. It is entirely up to you, and if you want to try something first just to see if it works, we can do that. At any time, if you want me to stop, I will stop. Ok?”
The man just looked at him. He desperately wanted to just go to sleep and wake up and have his arm working again, but he was desperately afraid of being put to sleep. What if it was like being frozen? The idea terrified him. He knew he could stand the pain, it wasn’t just pain, not really; more like heat, like when you hold your hand over a flame until it blisters. Only he can’t pull away. He didn’t want to endure it though. Coming to Tony was hard, so hard. He knew the man could help, but even the idea of asking for help was so foreign to him, it was so ingrained that he could not ask for anything. Ever. But he couldn’t use his arm. He knew it would just get worse and worse until it was all but useless. He did not want that.
“There is a drug… It can relax me? I won’t… go to sleep?” he managed.
Tony nodded. “Yes. It makes you kind of high? Like loopy and relaxed and like nothing really matters. If you like, I can give you a dose so you know what it feels like and then you can decide if you want to do that when we work on you. Would that be ok?”
Again with the choice. He racked his brain, what do I want? I want my arm to work. I want… spotty memories filled with blood and killing, snow and rock, shouting and whimpering overtook his senses and he moaned aloud, pressing his flesh hand to his eyes as if he could physically push the visions away.
Tony’s first instinct was to back off, he was afraid that the soldier would dissociate and harm him, but the sound that came from the soldier was so filled with agony, so filled with need, that he just kept his place.
“It’s ok man, you’re here, in the present, you’re in Stark Tower, you’re here with me, Tony, I’m going to help you, remember?” He repeated variations of this until the assassin looked at him with clear eyes.
“I think… I think I would like to sleep.”
Tony nodded. “Of course, sleep on it, think about it, do whatever man. I don’t need you to make a decision right away. When you’re ready. Ok? We don’t do anything until you are ready.”
The man looked up at him “Please… please don’t tell… Rogers.”
Tony was just dying to call Steve and let him know to come home, but he couldn’t do that now that the assassin had made his heartbreaking request. “Ok, yeah, sure man. I’ll put the Tower on lockdown. No one in or out unless you’re ok with it. Ok?”
A slight nod.
“Just so you know, my fiancée, Pepper lives here. Beautiful red head, very smart. She will not say a word to anyone about anything. I just wanted you to know in case you ran into her, so you’re not startled.”
Another nod.
“All right, let’s get you to your room then.”
Slowly he led the assassin to a guest suite, showed him around briefly, asked if there was anything else he needed. A headshake.
“Ok man, listen, if you need anything. ANYTHING. I don’t care what time, all you need to do is say JARVIS’ name and tell him what you need. If it’s me you need, JARVIS will alert me and I will be here right away. Anything else, like you need to know where ah, say, the library is, just ask JARVIS, ok?”
Nod.
“All right. Goodnight bud.”
---
The assassin looked around the suite. A bed big enough for 5, a shower big enough for 5, he wondered what he should be doing with all this space. Slowly, he stripped off his tactical gear until he was just in his undershirt and boxers. He looked longingly at the shower, not even remembering the last time he had a hot one. He stared at the bed, his mind working why someone would need a bed that big, flashes of sleeping in a tent, on the ground, curled up in a group with men. When was that? No matter.
He lay on the bed, it was so soft. Everything was soft. The pillows, the sheets, the comforters, even the mattress. It was like lying in a cloud. He grunted and got back off the bed, dragging a pillow and blanket, and made a pallet on the floor. For the first time in over 70 years, James Buchanan Barnes fell into a deep, healing sleep, feeling safe.
He dreamed. Oh did he dream. He dreamt of a small, scrawny, blond kid whose nose was always running and knees and knuckles were always scraped. He dreamt of a small blond man who tried and tried to enlist but was not able to because of health. He dreamt of pulling boy after boy off the small blond kid, tending to the kid’s wounds, holding his hand on cold nights, listening to the rattling coughing in the kid’s chest. He dreamt of a larger man, who was the small man, but taller and stronger, and being the saved one. He dreamt of a blond man dressed in red, white, and blue, whom he followed everywhere. He dreamt of falling, falling, endless falling into the black of night; screaming, screaming, until he woke up, throat raw, flesh fist clenched painfully. He woke up screaming. He woke up to the computer-thing, JARVIS, saying ‘wake up Master Barnes, you are having a nightmare’ over and over.
He sat on the floor, panting, dripping with sweat. He wanted to punch something, to break something. He wanted to tear the hated limb from his flesh and hurl it as far away from him as possible. He wanted… remarkably he wanted someone, anyone, to be there and tell him that it was ok, he’s not alone.
“JARVIS?” he managed, his voice weak.
“Yes, Master Barnes?”
The assassin was too upset to notice the use of his known-not-known surname “can you… can you ask Tony to… I need to talk to him.”
“Yes, of course Master Barnes. Right away.”
The man climbed up onto the bed, wrapping the soft blanket around him. He was suddenly chilled to the bone but he didn’t know why. Several minutes later there was a knock, followed almost instantly by Tony bursting in.
“What is it? Are you ok?” He all but ran across the room, but stopped short several feet away as common sense took over.
The soldier looked at him. “I… had a bad dream” he said, flapping his flesh arm uselessly.
Tony sucked in a breath, nodding. He knew of bad dreams. “Hey, it’s ok pal. Dreams are just that… dreams. But you’re here now, and nothing will hurt you so long as you are in my Tower, ok? Things will be ok. It will be hard, but things will get better, yeah?”
Inwardly, the assassin could feel himself starting to warm. Tony had spoken to him the exact words he needed to hear, and they were starting to have the effect he desired. He felt… comforted.
Tony shifted on his feet uncomfortably, but could see the soldier’s posture relaxing dramatically. He suddenly wished for Rhodey or Barton to be here, he felt that they would be more help. Hesitantly, he stepped closer and reached out his arm, as though to rest it on the other man’s shoulder. He stopped a few inches away.
“Is this ok?” he asked, remembering how, after New York, when people would touch him it would make him feel broken inside.
A slow nod.
He put his hand on the man’s shoulder, patting it a few times, feeling extremely awkward. He could sense that the assassin felt the same way, but that he also needed to be touched. He needed human contact. Tony cringed inside thinking about how this man had been deprived of caring human contact for over 70 years. Had he been alone, he would have wept.
He pulled back after a moment.
“You slept for nearly 18 hours, so it’s near supper time. I uh, I can see if we can whip something up, or if you prefer I can bring something to eat to you. If you feel up to eating.”
Choices, again. “I… I’d… I need a shower.” There, delaying the choice.
“All right, well, I’ll make sure there’s a tray by your door and if you feel up to it you can just bring it to the kitchen. You can always check with JARVIS to find me, yeah?”
Nodding.
“All right then, I uh… what should I call you?”
The man just stared at him. “Um. Don’t have a name. Not anymore” he said that last part bitterly.
“It’s ok. You can decide on it later. I’ll stick to pal for now.”
More staring. “You can call me James, if you want. It… it would be ok.”
“Ok then, James, I will see you when I see you. Oh, by the way, there are clothes in the dresser… if you need anything just let JARVIS know, it will appear for you eventually, ok?”
Nod.
With that, Tony left the room.