Chapter 1: From Yesterday
Chapter Text
From Yesterday, it's coming
From Yesterday, the Fear
From Yesterday, it calls him
Everything seemed to have faded into the background, the surroundings were colourless, a wavering monochrome landscape. Except for red. There was always red, in his eyes, on his hands, on the ground and in his damn ledger.
The dream was silent as always. He knew he was dreaming. Because there was never any sound when he was dreaming. There logically, he was dreaming. Logic, it always came when he built it. And he was all for logic; big fan of logic, huge, huge fan of logic. He worshiped at its alter, wanted its babies. No, wait. Had its babies. He'd been there, done that and gotten the AI to prove it. Logic was his religion, his raison d'etre, his damn Field of Dreams. Because logic was logical, it was always right unless it wasn't and that could be proved logically, and best of all it didn't try to screw him over with useless emotions, beaming smiles, fake self-serving relationships and always the expectations. He often thought that damn word expectations should be in capital letters because expectations had dominated, damaged and defined his damn life.
Logic, bless it's logical soul, never had expectations for him, was never disappointed in him, had never blamed him for a drop in the Dow Jones Index.
So logically there had to be sound, there had to be noise because there was evidence of explosions and gun shots, bystanders shouting and burning vehicles. Even fire wasn't silent, but in this place, in this time, in this dream it was all silent.
Therefore to his logical mind, based on numerous previous evidence and experience, vision without sound equated to a dream. Only dream wasn't the correct word for this kaleidoscope of destruction and fear. Dream made it sound pleasant, like something to look forward to at the end of a long tiring day. No, this dream was nothing like that.
After all the shit he had been through, all the life threatening reckless even suicidal crap he had dealt with, up to and including seeing the terrible dark beauty of space in person with an arc reactor in his chest before his oxygen ran out and his Ironman Suit almost became his eternal floating coffin orbiting the Earth, he had enough material for two lifetimes worth of nightmares.
This one, this dream, this night terror was the precursor of them all. The one he had hit adulthood with, the one that made him want to tear his eyes out of his head and when he was younger had left him waking up in a wide selection of his own bodily fluids.
The dream always started the same way. He was trapped, physically unable to move, a horrified witness unable to stop the same sequence of events. Unable to wake until it all played out in front of him to the bitter putrid soul wrenching end.
There was no sound. Why couldn't he hear anything? He opened his eyes and his vision was blurred. Something red was blocking it. He tried to raise his hands but for some reason he was stuck, and it hurt when he tried to move. So he turned his face and rubbed it against his shoulder, the muscles in his neck protesting violently but he had to see, to know what was happening. He cleared away the gunky red fluid with the smell of copper. He knew it was blood but he wasn't sure if it was his own or from someone else.
He ached all over. Hurt worse than falling repeatedly from that damn horse his Mama had made him learn to ride. Mama. No not thinking of Mama, not yet not until he knew what was going on. He had to see, had to have evidence to back a conclusion. That was the way of Science young Jedi.
Don't think of Mama. Still no sound, why no sound? He saw the explosions, the vehicles rolling and burning, he saw people fall as if hit by something. That scornful voice in his head that sounded so much like his father was talking to him now. He could hear the voice alright even if he couldn't hear anything else
"Stupid Tony always so stupid. Gun shots. The noise is gun shots. Those people were hit by bullets. You are the son of a weapons manufacturer. Stop being the idiot child Howard calls you. You know what's happening, what's happened already to Mama."
But Tony won't have that. No not thinking of Mama. No.
He wondered if the liquid that had covered his eyes had damaged them. Everything seemed to have faded into the background, the surroundings were colourless, a wavering monochrome landscape blurring white, grey and black. Except for red. There was always red. A part of him knew he had been through this before, knew that he couldn't change it, knew the red was always there.
Red pooled on the ground, smeared car windows, dropped from a limp hand. It glinted viciously in a faded star shape on metallic scales, rippling across the silver as if anchoring the scales into place. The red was vibrantly alive in the monochrome madness, but even that faded into grey when the only focus, the only thing that mattered was the terrifying predator stalking with single minded determination towards him.
Tall and muscular as a superhero from one of Tony's comics, black armour clung to his body like a second skin, emphasising the inherent strength. Black face mask half hidden by the long black hair, following the haunting contours of his face fixed below black rimmed piercing silver eyes, only focused on one thing. Ignoring the chaos surrounding him.
Chaos that he had caused without as much as a blink of an eye. He strutted his way towards his mission. He didn't even bother to run.
There was nowhere Tony could go. The terrifying murderer, assassin, lunatic just kept right on coming. His hips swayed as if in time to some graceful martial music that would only reach its crescendo when his mission was completed.
Strands of his long hair floating around his face synchronised with that arrogant predatory strut. Why wouldn't he strut? Who could stop him?
His arms swung loosely beside him, the silver metal hand empty but the flesh hand holding on to the semi-automatic weapon as if it was an extension of himself. The same weapon he had used to casually destroy so many lives in the worst minutes of Tony's life. It felt like it should have taken an eternity but Tony had glanced at his watch. Ten minutes, ten minutes for this monster to create havoc and murder so many people on a bright fall morning on a highway.
Tony couldn't move. He was stuck in place in the front of the Rolls besides Mr Pat, their driver. Mr Pat had been their main driver and part of the Stark security team for nearly ten years. Nice guy, divorced with two kids he never saw enough of, always a wink and a smile for Tony because he actually seemed to like him even when Tony was being a pain in the ass.
Mr Pat just grinned at him and passed him some candy as if he was still the same little kid he had met all those years before, not the obnoxious teenage genius heir to Stark Industries who made it his business to torment the staff who even dared to look at him the wrong way. Tony had enough frowns from his Da… from Howard, he wasn't just going to passively allow anyone else to do it to him.
Hence the reason why only Mr Pat and Jarvis the butler really seemed to like him.
Mr Pat of the smiling eyes and candy filled pockets was the first to die in the car.
A madman in the middle of the road with a weapon, a bullet through the supposed bullet proof windscreen and their armoured Rolls Royce which should have had a fighting chance against a tank, had bounced and rolled like a badly hit pool ball before coming to a juddering stop buttressed between an overturned truck and the concrete wall at the entrance to the road tunnel.
Tony knew his Mama was in the back seat, knew there was no sound from her, knew that she was hurt, but he couldn't move to get to her, he couldn't even turn his head to check. He was stuck like a fly in amber.
The small part of him that he couldn't switch off, the obsessive need for evidence to prove his theories, to prove that his designs worked, objectively considered the trajectory of the second bullet and knew without a shadow of a doubt that his Mama had been directly in its path. So he didn't want to turn his head, he didn't want to check on his Mama because he knew that she was gone, that his darling Mama was dead. That small part was relieved when he couldn't physically move to confirm the theory.
Tony couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't let rip the screams clogging his lungs. He didn't know how much time had passed while he had been distracted by his frantic thoughts and fuzzy vision but that nightmare figure was stalking closer and closer. Why was he coming closer? He could take out any remaining witnesses or targets with his long range weapon. Why was he still coming towards Tony? Did he have to make physically sure that everyone was dead?
Howard stumbled into Tony's line of sight, covered in blood, glass and metal shards dripping off his three piece suit like water from a steadily leaking faucet. Howard's hands were open, in the air, placating, pleading. Howard Stark the legend of Stark Industries and of the much vaunted search for Captain America was begging that monster.
Tony was horrified, he couldn't move, he couldn't stop this. Sound came back with a rush, words, and jumbled phrases in Howard's broken cigar hoarse voice.
"Not the kid, spare him. Only a kid. I saved your life Barnes, you owe me. I saved him. I saved your Stevie too. Not Tony, Not Tony. Please God, I'm begging you Bucky. Not my boy"
Tony heard the words but they didn't make sense. He watched as the monster took Howard's throat in that freaky silver hand, watched as the monster turned his gaze towards him, unblinking cold silver eyes meeting and holding Tony's appalled ones.
No, No, No, he didn't want to see it again. He didn't want to relive it again. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.
Tony saw the monster's lips move next to Howard's ear, but the sound had gone again. Without taking his gaze away from Tony, the monster twisted his hand, hard. Howard's body dropped to the floor.
The scream finally erupted from Tony's lungs. One word howled over and over in agony. "Dad"
"Good Morning Sir, you are safe. It is 05:30 am on Tuesday 27th October 2012, the city temperature today will rise to 60 degrees. Some sun and later more cloud cover is predicted. You are safe. You are in your private quarters on Floor 93 of Stark Tower in Manhattan, New York. You are safe and alone in your suite. The coffee machine in the communal area has been activated if you feel the need for company as Dr Banner is currently enjoying one of his herbal teas there. Alternatively the coffee machine in your personal kitchen has also been activated if you feel adventurous enough to attempt to make it for yourself. Both machines will be ready to fill your mug in 4 minutes and 17 seconds Sir. You are safe"
JARVIS soothing monologue pulled Tony from the lingering effects of his nightmare. God damn it he hadn't had that one for quite some time. But he should have expected it. He should have known it was coming. The call from Wilson, letting him know they were close. That Rodgers was sure the next site would be the one. That they could be back in Stark Tower by the end of the month. By the end of the god damn month.
His eyes were still wide and his heart racing from the flood of adrenaline. He could feel the sweat which had drenched his body and soaked through the soft linen sheets.
"Thank you Jay" he murmured with fond gratitude, words barely audible to a human ear but the AI had little difficulty recognising them. Tony knew he had only programmed JARVIS to tell him when and where he was upon waking. It helped to ease the disorientation when he woke up. Too many successful kidnapping attempts and damn it, too many alcohol fuelled one night stands, when he had woken up alone and afraid. Not knowing where he was, or who he was with.
But the AI had adapted his own programming on such a simple thing to make sure Tony felt even more comfortable and even reassure him. He hadn't missed the unsubtle message telling him he was safe as often as the AI could get it into the speech.
Tony appreciated it but right now he didn't feel safe. He still felt like that traumatised terrified teenager who had watched as his world fell apart around him. No the words were wrong, fell apart made it sound like there was no-one to blame. And there was blame. There was a mountain of blame, there was a mountain of sin to apportion to that monster with a man's face because he had ripped Tony's world apart with his bare and metallic hands.
He flung his arm across his face to block the dark and terrible memories from returning. But the arm didn't block out the vision of Steve Rodgers earnest optimistic face when the guy had turned to him after the fall of SHIELD, after the destruction of Fury's phase two defence system and the weakening of the World Defence Council and shown him the evidence.
They had viewed the footage from the overpass, and the downed Heli carriers. For the first time in decades, Anthony Edward Stark laid his eyes once again on the monster who had murdered his parents. Tony finally found out the monster's name.
The Winter Soldier, ghost assassin, harbinger of doom, whispered legend for the Hell spawn Hydra. And apparently Captain America's zombified best friend.
As vivid and bold and utterly terrifying as he remembered, front and centre on the recordings. The terrifying figure from his nightmares, from the hell that had sent a seventeen year old rich kid genius into an alcoholic spiral he still had difficulty coming out of.
Then the mask had been pulled off and Tony Stark saw the face of the Winter Soldier. His restless brilliant mind came to a complete stop, he felt as if his body was no longer his own. He could not take his eyes away from that face. He knew that face, for an all too brief moment in time he had loved that face.
"Yasha" he hadn't realised that he had whispered the damn name aloud in disbelief until Rodgers had turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Tony shrugged lightly, his mask firmly in place even if the Winter Soldier had lost his. "Sorry Capsicle, just thinking out loud" he offered with his trademark careless nonchalance.
Anger flashed through those famous blue eyes like a lightning strike. "If I could have a moment of your precious attention…" Rodgers began to snipe then seemed to collect himself and heaved a rueful sigh "Sorry that was uncalled for, let's just watch this to the end".
Tony heard the words and must have made some appropriate response but his mind was running rampant as the betrayal shredded his skin until it reached his soul. Why did this keep on happening to him? Why did he trust these people when they were traitorous conniving bastards? A small part of his heart shrivelled in his chest. Tony Stark was never sure if he had ever been in love properly but Yasha had come pretty damn close.
Thankfully no one else had heard his shameful whimper even if Sam and Bruce had heard Steve's reaction. Tony had finally been pulled from the dark mire of his thoughts by the pleading hesitant voice of Captain America. Tony stared up into those wet blue eyes brimming with hope and determination.
"Stark, Tony. I don't trust SHIELD any more, what's left of it. I need your help to find him. It's Buck, my Bucky. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He, he survived the fall. They made him their asset, their assassin. I don't know what they did to him. I will find out but I have to find him. Please Tony I let him fall once and I thought he'd died. Please help me find him"
Stark the irreverent philanthropist, the playboy, the problem solver, the fly by the seat of his pants strategist had taken over from Tony the terrified traumatised teenager and betrayed lover. He had smiled when he sincerely promised Captain America all the resources and funds he would need.
Rodgers still didn't know him very well even if they had saved the world together. He hadn't yet learnt to see through the public mask and the Man with a Plan allowed the tension in his shoulders to release, his smile to widen and gratitude to lighten his expression when Tony assured him of his complete cooperation in finding the Winter Soldier and bringing him in.
Steve Rodgers, Captain America had thanked him for showing compassion to a fallen brother in arms with tears in his eyes.
Tony didn't feel it appropriate to mention at that time that the only compassion he had for the Winter Soldier was the quick painless death he was personally going to give the man.
As far as Tony was concerned, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had died a hero in the Second World War. Yasha was only a figment of his own pathetic longings. He had been played by professionals. Fucking hell they couldn't have picked someone more perfect for him. The bastard had dug his hydra fingers into his heart within hours and had made him… feel.
With his genius he could work out permutations and cause and effect as if they were elementary grade math. His brilliance couldn't see the point of that particular operation unless it was a long con designed to play with his mind and rock him off balance when they needed it the most. Tony tried to draw a calming breath in but the pain in his heart was worse now than after that travesty of an operation in the cave. He would focus, he would forget Yasha. Yasha hadn't been real. The figure on the screen was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes aka the Winter Soldier back from the dead like his erstwhile playmate Steven Grant Rodgers, and the Winter Soldier was running the whole multiple personality freak show.
Tony was pretty sure that if the man made monster known as the Winter Soldier ever did recover his Barnes personality and memories, Bucky Barnes himself would wish that he had died at that point in time, rather than commit the murderous spree through the ensuing decades for Hydra, his and the Cap's sworn enemies.
Tony was going to accommodate that wish as soon as the Captain and his birdie sidekick brought the Soldier back to the Tower.
Maybe once he had destroyed that nightmare figure, it would also destroy his oldest and worst nightmare and he could lay his Mama, Howard and the fake image of his Yasha to rest.
AN:
This is a gift story for the Winteriron Holiday Exchange on tumblr and has also been posted to A03. I was given a set of likes and dislikes and asked to incorporate it into the story. The story has been deliberately left open ended because I don't like to write unhappy endings. There may be a sequel in the new year.
No infringement intended. Just had fun playing with characters.