Bucky watches the news conference from Tony's penthouse living room. He's not sure if he is ready to burst from pride or grief as Tony, who looks like he's aged ten years in the last three months, gazes over the crowd of reporters and says, "I wish I knew Howard Stark. I would have asked him so many things. How he got into the weapons industry, why he did it, and what he thought of it now." His expression hardens. "But as you all know, I can't. So, effective immediately, Stark Industries will no longer be manufacturing weapons-"
The rest of his words are briefly drowned out by the reporters. Some official with a Stark Industries logo on their jacket takes the opportunity to step in front of the microphone. Tony is ushered out, and Bucky turns off the TV.
He's only made one request of Pepper: That she tell Tony he's here. If Tony wants Bucky to go without seeing him, he'll go.
No word comes, and an hour later he hears a car pull into the driveway.
Bucky lets out a long breath and rubs his right palm on his knee. He stands.
Tony walks in, one arm in a sling, Pepper following. He doesn't look surprised to see Bucky - he can't read his mood at all, other than he looks sunburnt and exhausted.
Tony speaks. "You're late to the party, Old School."
Bucky inclines his head to the TV. "That was a party?"
"That's how Stark's do it."
Bucky hesitates, unsure where this is going, but there has been something itching at the back of his mind for the last hour. "You said in the conference what-" he means to say 'your father', but it doesn't come, "-Howard would have thought. He was an industrialist, and he was proud of the weapons he made for the boys. The Howard I knew would have hated that announcement."
Tony eyes him for a moment. "Good. What did you think of it?"
Bucky smirks.
That's apparently all the answer Tony needs. He turns to Pepper. "All I've wanted for three months is to have an American cheeseburger and to sleep in my own bed. I've had the first, now I'm doing the second. Hold my calls, Ms. Potts."
He turns and walks away from them, down the hall.
Pepper looks at Bucky, who shrugs and sits back down.
"He was always a weird kid," he says.
Tony staggers back into the living room eight hours later, showered, shaved, and his arm out of the sling.
Bucky's using a tablet to flip through internet articles about Stark Industries. It's as not as good as an old fashioned newspaper, but it does the trick. Between Stane's untimely death and Tony's conference, all of the major news sources are predicting an unprecedented stock plummet.
Tony glances at him, but heads straight to the bar set in the back. He returns with two large glasses, and pours a generous amount of whiskey for both.
"How did they make you do it?" he asks, setting a glass beside Bucky, and sitting on the other end of the couch. At Bucky's look, he elaborates. "Bucky Barnes was a friend of Howard Stark."
Ah, now he knows the reason for the drink. Bucky grimaces and knocks back a gulp. It burns all the way down. "I said it in the letter: I had no idea who he was. Didn't know who I was, either."
"I've read up on brainwashing," Tony says. "It's not an exact science."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly stable. They... kept me on ice, cryogenically frozen between missions. Then they'd wipe my brain because parts of me kept breaking through."
"Killing little boys not on your agenda?"
"Tony-"
"Don't," Tony snaps. "I'm asking the questions." He sets down his drink and looks hard at Bucky. "What was it? Obligation? Guilt?"
It takes a moment for Bucky to realize where he's going with this, and he doesn't know why he's surprised, but damn it hurts. "No. Never. Howard asked me to take care of you, but he was nothing to the Soldier. Just another mission. He-I didn't know pity." He looks Tony in the eye. "I didn't complete the mission and kill you because I didn't want to. Later, because you were mine."
Tony blinks a couple times, then leans back. "You called him the Soldier in your letter-which is dissociative and probably unhealthy, by the way. When did you fully break the programming?"
"You were six."
Tony's eyes go briefly unfocused in thought, probably trying to remember if Bucky acted anyway different during that time. Then he shakes his head and drags a hand down his face. The neckline of his shirt shifts, and Bucky catches a glimpse of a glow there.
"I've come off some really bad months," Tony says, probably meaning to be sarcastic, but it just comes out tired. "You might have heard about them. And my PA tells me Stane arranged it all, and was double-dealing to terrorist hot-zones, you know, before he mysteriously fell down his own staircase."
Bucky wasn't going to deny it, so he says nothing.
"Pepper went through my parents old files - did you know that?" Tony blurts, suddenly, "I was four-years-old and I'd already been admitted to a boarding school two states away for when I turned seven. Very prestigious. I was barely speaking in complex sentences, and they already had plans to get rid of me. And in all the family videos I've scrounged up, I'm off to the side, being taken care of by the butler and nannies."
He pauses, takes a breath. "Meanwhile you gave me this weird, fucked up, globe-trotting childhood - but somehow I was happy-" his voice breaks on the word.
Bucky isn't sure who moves, but somehow his son is in his arms, hugging him back and still speaking, "You son of a bitch. You dumped this all on me and left, and-I don't even remember them. How am I supposed to mourn them when I don't remember them?"
It's an honest question, but Bucky shakes his head, his throat tight. "I don't know."
Tony tugs away. Bucky lets him.
"I have things I need to do," Tony says, looking to the side. "There's this whole Stark legacy merchant of death thing I've been saddled with, and I just... You need to leave."
Bucky nods. "Fine." His voice is husky. He gathers himself to go.
"I have safe houses," Tony says. "Pepper will give you a list, if you ever need a place... Call every once in awhile. We'll do Thanksgiving."
Bucky nods. It's better than he had hoped. So much more than what he deserved.
"Tony," he says. His son looks at him. "Whatever happens next... You've done good for yourself, kid. I'm proud."
He's almost out the door before he hears Tony's quiet reply. "Thanks, Dad."
Notes: Almost done! Thanks for sticking with this fic. One more chapter to go. :D