Chapter Text
Wanda’s hands moved faster than they ever had before. She needed eyes in the back of her head to keep up with everyone. Watching Clint’s back, keeping T’Challa from killing Bucky, and doing her part to get Cap and the team to the Quinjet was exhausting.
Her magic was woefully insufficient.
And Vision.
She was at odds with Vision.
She felt guilty for how things went down at the compound, but she couldn’t sit on her ass and do nothing. She had to help.
T’Challa and Clint were going at it, and T’Challa was gaining the upper hand. He was fast and strong. Clint was a good shot, but he was no match for T’Challa’s strength.
If she didn’t do something, someone would get seriously hurt. Or worse.
Someone would die. Like Pietro. She couldn’t let that happen.
Not again.
She closed her eyes and raised her hands, focusing her magic. She’d never tried something at this scale, covering such a wide area, but if she could get them all to stop for a moment, to remember who they were, then maybe Tony would listen, and maybe, just maybe…
This isn’t who they are. Open their hearts and souls to the truth.
The energy flowed away from her so quickly that it stole her breath, and for a moment, she thought she was falling. She jerked, eyelids snapping open, and sucked in a deep breath.
What she saw made no sense. “Oh my God.” She blinked as if to clear her vision. What happened?
-0-
Steve was just about to swing his shield when a burst of red energy pulsed over the tarmac, sliding through him with a sizzling warmth that stole his breath.
“Wanda?” He turned… and a sinking feeling made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Where was everyone? Tony and Rhodes were still in their suits, but the rest…
Bucky…Sam…where were they? Even T’Challa was gone. Clint? That spider kid?
He eyed the redheaded figure in black walking toward him. Thank God. “Natasha!” As soon as she got a few steps closer, he spotted the differences. She was Natasha—with the same gait, same face—but she looked at least 20 years older.
Her head swiveled around to take in the tarmac as she stopped in front of him. “What’s going on?”
Tony was there suddenly, his helmet retracting. “What the hell?” he asked, voice in an unusual pitch. “What the hell?” He brought his hand to his throat. “What’s up with my voice?”
Steve couldn’t stop staring at the impossibly young face in the suit, blinking as he tried to reconcile the image before him. “Tony. You look like you’re sixteen.”
“You sound like it, too,” Natasha said, rubbing her back.
Rhodes was right behind, retracting his helmet. He looked about the same, maybe a few years younger, with a few pounds more of muscle. “Tony, Jesus..What?”
Tony blinked at Rhodes. “Rhodey? What happened to you?” He turned his attention back to Natasha. “You haven’t looked in a mirror yet, have you, granny?”
“What?” She looked at her hands. “Oh God, what’s happened to me?”
“I don’t know, but you look older,” Steve said. “Forties, Maybe.” He searched for Wanda and spotted her 50 feet away near the wreckage of a vehicle, her hands over her mouth.
Before he could get a word out, a kid wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers approached, accompanied by a lean, shaggy dog that looked like a downsized version of a German Shepherd.
“Damn,” Natasha shook her head. “Is that dog from the cargo hold somewhere? I thought they evacuated?”
The kid and the dog stopped a few feet away. Steve gave the kid a quick look. He wasn’t familiar, but the height and build were on point with the kid Tony called Underroos. He was impossibly young. There was no way Tony would’ve….
Would he have?
“Uh, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry about this, but the suit…it just…vanished.”
Steve suppressed a grimace. Of course, Tony did.
“Vanished?” Tony took a step closer to the kid. “Do you know how much that piece of tech cost?”
“I’m so sorry.” The kid’s eyes were impossibly wide. “I don’t think I did anything to it. Just normal stuff.”
“How old are you, son?” Steve asked.
The kid shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I’ll be fifteen in August.”
“You’re fourteen.” Steve leveled a hard stare at Tony. “Really?”
“Hey, he was just supposed to web you up and bow out!” Tony said, sounding as much like a petulant teenager as he looked.
“Seriously?” Rhodes asked, leveling a hard glare at Tony.
Tony grimaced. “He’s on the younger side, okay?”
The shaggy dog barked, its eyes going wide, then it barked again, sounding frantic.
“Easy.” Tony diverted his attention to the dog, raising his hands. “Is this one a Belgian Malinois?”
“Yep,” Natasha said. “No collar, unfortunately.”
“Where are Sam and Bucky?” Steve scanned the Tarmac.
“Under arrest if we find them,” Rhodes said. “As are you, Captain.”
The Malinois barked.
Steve spotted Vision floating toward them from across the Tarmac, and behind him, a silky, black figure. “Holy shit.”
The black jaguar sported a familiar collar with vibranium arrowheads. “That can’t possibly be…”
Natasha turned to follow his line of sight. “Is that a panther?”
“A black panther?” Tony’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell is going on?”
Vision floated to a stop in front of Tony. “I believe that several of our—” he hesitated for the briefest of seconds as his eyes met Steve’s “— friends have transmogrified.”
Wanda approached hesitantly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to get everyone to stop fighting.”
“Well, undo it!” Tony said.
“I…I can try, but I’m not sure how I did it in the first place.”
Steve didn’t like the idea of having Wanda experiment on his friends, but they couldn’t leave everyone like…
“Wait.” Tony tilted his head and looked down at the dog.
“Yeah.” Steve sighed. It seemed he and Tony came to the same conclusion. “You think?”
Natasha looked around, then back down at the dog. “Clint.”
The dog growled and shook its head from side to side.
Steve had a sinking feeling. “Sam?”
The dog gave a single bark and sat stiffly.
“Great.” Tony clinked a hand against Rhodes’ armored shoulder, “Go ahead, arrest a dog. This, I gotta see.”
Sam growled.
“So where’s Clint?” Natasha asked.
“And Bucky?” Steve scanned the tarmac again, but there was no sign of Bucky, Scott, or Clint.
A high-pitched kreeer sounded from above, and a second later, a red-shouldered hawk swooped down, landing on Natasha’s shoulder.
She flinched slightly, her composure slipping slightly as she stared wide-eyed at the bird. “Clint?”
The animal gave a sharp screech in response.
Natasha studied the bird with an impassive expression. “You’re an actual Hawk?”
Hawkeye took off into flight, tilting and dropping in an aerodynamic display of acrobatics that lasted a few seconds, until he dive-bombed Tony.
“Hey!” Tony batted at the bird, which flitted away gracefully with a screech.
Tony’s helmet snapped into place a moment before Clint delivered an unwelcome package. It oozed off the side of his helmet.
“Real mature!” Tony yelled, using his armored hand to wipe at the dropping. “Yuck.”
Natasha’s chuckle was cut off by Scott’s sudden appearance.
He seemed to materialize out of thin air, fully suited up.
“Well, this is weird.”
“Jesus!” Tony almost jumped out of his suit, retracting his helmet again. “Warn a guy. Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“We need to find Bucky.” Steve eyed T’Challa, who was pacing twenty yards away, tail flicking back and forth in a low arc, and his nose held high as if he were picking up a scent.
The dog—Sam—barked.
Steve looked down at the canine, resisting the urge to pet his head. Sam would likely not appreciate that. “Can you find him?”
What if something worse than transmogrification happened? What if T’Challa had killed him? Or he was turned into…
No.
T’Challa prowled toward a heap of debris from what looked like the remains of at least two different vehicles. It was a pile of twisted metal and rubber, with glass around the pavement.
Sam broke into a run, all four legs a blur across the blacktop. Steve followed at a light trot, letting Sam lead the way. Sam growled as he passed T’Challa, who was closing the distance, in a stalking pose close to the blacktap. A moment later, Sam spun, all canine teeth visible, tail held high, and snarled five yards away from T’Challa’s impressively muscular jaguar form.
The cat stopped, mouth open, scenting the air. Steve approached, shield at the ready. “Is something in this pile?”
He placed himself between Sam and T’Challa. “Can we call a truce for a moment while we figure out what’s happening?”
T’Challa’s regal eyes studied Steve, and after a moment, T’Challa gave a muted roar and sat.
Sam turned, sniffing, and eased toward the wreckage. Steve slid the shield into place on his back and crouched. He spotted a small, dirty knee poking out that sported a large scratch.
“Who’s there?” He shifted position, moving forward, and the rest of the body came into view. It took his brain a moment to process what he was seeing. “Oh my God.”
The others approached, and he was aware of them clustered a few feet away.
He recognized the child instantly, and for a moment, he was back home, running the streets of Brooklyn with this impossibly small boy who, even back then, had always stood at least a head taller than him. The boy was curled in on himself, hair cropped short like it had been back then, with only two pairs of striking blue eyes peering out from behind an arm that covered his head. His left arm, also flesh from the look of the hand peeking out of the sleeve, hung limp. One of the eyes sported a nasty bruise. He wore knickers and a long-sleeved shirt. His knee-length socks had slid partway down his calves, and his shoes were the style Steve remembered from his childhood, but they weren’t shined like the ones Bucky usually wore back then. They were scuffed and dirty.
“Bucky?”
The boy jerked away, wincing with the crunch of glass beneath his body.
“Hey! Hey!” Steve raised his hands. “Is that you, Bucky? Do you know me?”
Bucky curled tighter into himself, trembling.
“Is that Barnes?” Natasha crouched next to Steve.
“Yeah, I think so. It looks just like him…like he looked back then.”
“Does he not recognize you?” Natasha asked.
“Yeah,” Tony stepped up in his suit, “what’s wrong with your old war buddy? Even dog-brain here seems to know who you are.”
Sam growled.
Hawkeye swooped down, making Tony duck, and landed on the top of the debris.
Steve kept his focus on Bucky. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Steve inched closer to his young friend. “Hey, Pal, you know me. I’m Steve.”
Bucky lowered his arm, wet eyes peering at Steve through the pile of metal.
With the most reassuring smile he could muster, Steve nodded and held out his hand. “You want to come out?”
Bucky shook his head, eyes darting to canine Sam and then going wide when they fell on the jaguar.
“Hey there.” The kid Tony called Underoos crouched next to Steve. Someone needed to get clothes for the teenager, but first, they had to figure out what was wrong with Bucky.
Everyone else seemed to retain their memories—the best any of them could tell, anyway, considering three of them were animals.
Bucky gave the Underoos kid a quick look, brow crinkling in obvious confusion, then he tucked his chin to his chest and covered his head with his arm.
Steve turned his head to take in the group. “Can everyone please step back just a bit? Give us some space.”
Underoos stood and backed away, as did the others. Sam shifted to the side, avoiding the glass on the blacktop.
“Hey, Bucky. You’re okay. I’m your friend.” Steve wasn’t sure where Bucky was mentally. Did he only have the memories he had at that age? Steve pegged him at about four years of age, which would have been a couple of years before he and Bucky met. “I’m Steve Rogers. I’m your friend. I’m not sure if you know me, but you saved me from a couple of bullies trying to steal my pocket change.”
Bucky lowered his arm again and blinked at Steve with glistening eyes. The black one was swollen and puffy, and now that Steve was getting a better look, he could make out injuries. Bucky’s bottom lip was split, and there were visible bruises showing from just above the collar of his shirt. Bucky hadn’t had a split lip or black eye that Steve had seen prior to Wanda using her magic to change everyone, so how on Earth had he gotten injured?
“You’re hurt. What’s wrong with your arm?” It was the left one, flesh and bone by all appearance, but not moving.
Bucky looked down at the limb, brow crinkling, then back at Steve with an air of wariness that looked painfully wrong in such young eyes.
Steve swallowed hard. “You’re safe now.”
Bucky gave no response. How long would this — whatever this was—last? At some point, they’d likely have to let Wanda try to undo it.
But right now it was too risky. They had to secure everyone and then figure things out.
He held out his hand. “Come on, Bucky. You can’t lie here in this glass.”
Sam inched forward, giving Steve a canine side eye that Steve tried to interpret. He knew Sam was trying to help, and maybe he could. Dog or not, he still had knowledge about trauma that far exceeded Steve’s.
Using his gloved hand, Steve swept away the glass, creating a pathway between Sam and Bucky. Bucky eyed them both warily, blinking fresh tears onto his cheeks but not making a sound, though his chest rose and fell with fast, heavy breaths.
Gently, Sam eased forward, heard low, navigating agile paws along the path. He stopped a few inches away, then stretched his neck slowly and nudged Bucky’s chest with his nose.
Bucky swallowed hard, eyeing the dog warily.
Sam lay down, giving Bucky’s right hand another nudge. Cautiously, Bucky raised his hand and slid his fingers into the hair on the side of the dog’s neck.
Steve couldn’t help his smile as he watched Bucky stroke Sam. The contact would be awkward in any other circumstances, and he wondered whether Sam found it awkward. He’d have to ask later, when, hopefully, they got everyone back to their proper physical form.
Bucky’s eyes roamed Steve’s crouched frame, even as his hand stayed on Sam’s neck, his fingers sunk into the dog’s coat. He scooted forward, closer to the dog, and peered past Steve at the others, his eyes going wide when they took in the two armored suits.
Instantly, he shrank back and shook his head.
“Hey, they’re okay.” Steve shot them both a glance.
Tony sighed and stepped out of his suit, crouching down. His eyes softened, and he cleared his throat, glancing back at Rhodes. When he looked back, there was an uncomfortableness to his expression. “Hey there, kid Barnes, I’m Tony.” He gave a wave. “Why don’t you come on out now so we can take you to a nice, warm, safe, secure room in a —”
“Tony, stop.” Steve’s anger got the better of his tone, giving it a hard edge that had Bucky scooching backward, his hand dropping away from Sam.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly. “Bucky, you can’t stay here forever. I know you’re scared. That’s normal. This is a strange place, and you’re probably feeling very confused. I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Bucky swallowed hard and blinked, his gaze going to Sam, then back to Steve. He took a big breath, wiped a hand across his tear-streaked cheeks, and nodded, inching forward.
Steve gave him room, letting Bucky ease forward at his own pace. The others kept quiet, thankfully, with no more smart remarks from Tony. When he was inches away, Bucky hesitated, looking up at Steve with big blue eyes that seemed to be studying every line. When he got to his feet, his eyes darted around at the group, going wide as they passed the black cat and the armored suits.
Then he bolted into a limping trot across the tarmac, his right hand held close to his side.
Steve ran after him, but T’Challa was faster, and as Steve watched the feline leap into the air, his chest went tight, and he pumped his legs faster to intercept.
Was T’Challa so blinded by his need for revenge that he’d kill a child?
T’Challa landed in front of Bucky, who skidded to an awkward halt, tripping over his feet and landing on the tarmac. He scurried backward as Steve arrived, his shield at the ready. He wasn’t sure if the panther had T’Challa’s enhanced strength, and he didn’t relish finding out, but he wouldn’t let the man hurt Bucky.
The Wakandan's eyes remained fixed on Bucky, but he made no move to advance. Steve wasn’t sure how to read a cat’s expression, but the regal feline looked almost curious. There was a slight tilt to his head, and his jaw hung open an inch.
Steve stepped between T’Challa and Bucky, giving the new King a grateful nod, then crouched in front of his young friend. Bucky’s chest was heaving, his eyes wide as they darted from Steve to T’Challa. He was obviously terrified.
And his injuries were troubling. Bucky hadn’t been that injured before the transformation, not unless something had happened during the fight moments before everything changed, but Steve didn’t think that was it. He’d clocked Bucky and T’Challa during the fray, and while he was sure Bucky was sporting bruises and scrapes, these injuries appeared much more substantial.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Steve held out his hand. “I promise. You can trust me.”
Bucky looked at him, frozen like a statue for a second, then his eyes darted to T’Challa, and he scurried toward Steve, lurching against him, his tiny arm grasping the strap of Steve’s harness.
“It’s okay.” As Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, he kept his eyes on T’Challa, keenly aware of Bucky’s fast, warm breath against his neck and the small tremors coursing through the child’s small frame.
Sam arrived with Natasha, baring his canine teeth at T’Challa, who merely looked at him impassively and, with a low flick of his tail, glided away.
Natasha leaned down, placing her hands on her knees. “Hey there.” Her voice was soft and gentle. “Do you know me?”
Bucky looked at her but gave no response other than to turn his head into Steve’s chest.
Something was terribly wrong with Bucky. Unlike the others who transformed and seemed to retain their faculties, whatever magic turned Bucky into a child seemed to affect his mental and emotional faculties as well.
Steve turned his head to look at the others, who were clustered together talking amongst themselves, but their gazes darted his way periodically. The Underroos kid was gesturing wildly in front of Tony, who had stepped out of his suit and looked to be almost the same age as the kid.
“We need to get everyone secured inside the airport while we figure this out.” Steve got to his feet, lifting Bucky.
Natasha crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping the terminal. “We can’t stay in this airport all day. They evacuated it, but they’re going to get ancey.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be for long.”