Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear…" he gasped out between his sobs. "I… I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! I'm so, so sorry about the wait. Real life and some personal things really got in the way for a while there. And then I had to rewrite a couple sections of this chapter more than once to get it to cooperate. But thank you all for your patience, and welcome aboard to anyone new! I'm glad that you guys are liking this story so much! It's only gonna get crazier from here on out since we're in the final arc of things now. So there will be more clues about Fennhoff's connection to Tony and others, as well as tie-ins, as we continue to get to the answer of what's going on. I really hope that the next chapters don't take as long, lol. But thank you all for hanging in there with me! I won't keep you any longer!
Quick note, there's also a bit of an AU for First Avenger and Winter Soldier in this chapter.
In response to Cellorules: Thank you so much! I'm happy that you're enjoying it so much! Thank you for your review!
In response to Vidari: Thank you so much for binging all this, I truly appreciate that! And I'm so happy to hear that you love this so much (that it's one of your favorite MCU fics is amazing, thank you so much!)! Characterization is something I really try to focus on, so thank you for the compliment. On the dialogue as well! I always try to make sure there's a purpose for everything. I like stories with characters in captivity, too, so I'm glad that you're loving it! Thank you so much! And thank you for your review! I apologize for the wait, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!
Chapter 26– Change of Plans
"I… I can't go home…. I can't face her… Not yet…"
"You know she won't see this as your fault, Clint. Not after everything…"
"I… I still can't… Not after what I've done this time…. All the people I've killed…"
"That wasn't you who did those things, Clint. Not really. And Laura will know that. I promise."
"I still did them, Nat. Without question. Just like… like I used to… What… what if…?"
"No. Don't go there. Don't ever go there, Clint. You can't do that to yourself. Those things you did, that person you were… that's not you anymore. And don't let some things we don't understand… gods, magic, aliens… don't let those things make you believe that you are."
Silence.
"Listen to me, Barton. Is that person you used to be, the one who did all those terrible things, still there? Probably. I know the person I used to be is still there. Even after all the good we've done. Those people are still a part of us, deep down. And they always will be. But they don't have to have control of our lives anymore, Clint. We can quiet those voices, and I think we've both done a pretty damn good job of it. Don't let some… magic spell and mind control make you believe any differently. You are not that person anymore. And you never will be again."
"I… I don't know…"
"Please, Clint. Just listen to me on this. Okay?"
Silence.
"Clint?"
"… I'll try, Tasha…"
After the alien attack on New York had been the most vulnerable Natasha had ever seen her partner. At least since the death of his brother. But Loki's brainwashing had brought too many painful memories back to the surface for Clint, sending him right back to when killing and carnage had been both second nature and a constant companion for him. For the first time since she could remember, he hadn't been able to look at himself in the mirror due to what he'd done under the god of mischief's control. He hadn't been able to face Laura since he'd been afraid to see how she'd respond to the actions beyond his control. He hadn't been able to go home and hold his children with the blood that stained his hands.
So they'd stayed for about a week in one of their safe houses outside the city limits, one of many they had besides Clint's own home throughout the country and in various others that they would use on missions. It was one of the smaller ones, only one bedroom and bathroom, but he'd given her the bed while he'd just taken the floor. Neither one had gotten much sleep over that time, Clint because he was plagued with nightmares from when he'd been under Loki's spell while she'd contemplated just what exactly it would mean for them to be Avengers going forward. They'd always been spies, not soldiers. And she'd realized that if there were going to be more situations like the battle of New York, they were going to have to become the soldiers they'd always dreaded to be. So they'd both simply ended up on the floor those nights, lying facing away from each other with their backs barely touching and wondering what would be the next step for them now until the archer had been able to get his head back on straight and returned home to his family.
The assassin's gaze faltered from where she stood beside the table that Clint was lying on as Steve steered the quinjet away from the warehouse and back in the direction of the Tower. He was so still she could hardly even tell that he was breathing. His face, void of all emotion, was so white he already looked like death. She reached a slightly shaking hand out, brushing her fingers across the cold, clammy skin of his arm, blinking her tears away. He had to live. It scared her to think of her life without him in it since he'd been such an intricate part of it, since he'd been the reason she was alive now. They were tied together, two halves of the same messed up whole. She didn't know what would happen to her if he was no longer there. She didn't want to imagine a world without Clint Barton in it while she remained behind.
Across from her, Sam's lips were set in a thin, stern line, his eyes narrowed in focus, while he worked. Natasha had never been as grateful that her friend was a certified pararescue than at that moment. She watched as he carefully, with deft, practiced fingers, pushed the arrow through Clint's thigh without causing any more serious damage. The archer didn't even stir. He then quickly wrapped a towel securely around the entry wound in effort to staunch the blood flow and to help combat any symptoms of shock that could settle in. Sam then rummaged for some bandages and stitches in the pack he'd found on the aircraft, along with anything to help with fighting any possible infection, before he glanced up at Natasha. His gaze faltered when he saw how stiffly she was standing, her arms now crossed protectively in front of her, as she watched over Clint, still and silent with seemingly no feeling. At least none that he could gauge by her blank expression. But he could see it in the uncertainty flickering in her eyes, the way her brow was furrowed ever so slightly, and the way she was lightly chewing on her bottom lip.
"I don't know how comfortable I am trying to remove this other one in his chest," Sam said with a quiet clear of his throat. Words of sympathy wouldn't get him anywhere with the former KGB agent. He knew she wanted facts, something that she could grasp onto. Facts were something she was familiar with, something that she could use. Pity was not. "I mean, I could do it in other circumstances if I were more in control of my environment." He offered a brief chuckle. "It's not that I don't trust Steve's piloting skills, I do, but turbulence is something that can't be accounted for. And with the arrow where it is, so close to so many vital things… it's not a chance I'm the most willing to take if something like that were to happen at the wrong moment. But if I can ensure I can get him still enough…"
Natasha looked back up at him. "Will he be okay with it in until we got to the Tower?" she asked. "Doctor Cho will be waiting for us, but…"
Sam sighed again, leaning a bit closer to Clint to get a better look at the wound. "Right now, it seems so," he answered. "The arrow itself is preventing much of the blood flow, so for the time being, he's not at risk of losing too much. At least, not to a critical point. We're not going too far. But we do have this second wound in his leg, which I'm gonna patch up now. You also said something about his ears?"
The assassin nodded. "I'm thinking possibly ruptured eardrums," she confirmed, watching as the other man carefully lifted the archer's head to get a better look. "He said that he couldn't hear me, so…"
"Well, it seems like they've stopped bleeding…" he muttered, mainly to himself. "At least for the most part. Though I'm glad Steve's keeping to a relatively low altitude. But you may be right. I don't have the supplies here to look further into that, but Cho will. So his leg and keeping an eye on his chest will be my primary concerns. Is that okay?"
She seemed surprised that her friend had even asked for her permission, but Natasha nodded. "Yeah, that's fine," she told him. "Thanks for everything, Sam."
"Sure thing. What are friends for?" Sam then reached over Clint, lightly setting his hand on her arm. He waited until she met his gaze before offering her a small, hopefully reassuring and confident smile. "I'm not gonna let him die, Nat. Not on my watch."
Natasha lowered her gaze, glancing down at his hand to see that it was also stained with her best friend's blood, just like hers was, before she nodded. "Thanks, Sam." She then reached out and took Clint's hand in hers while the other man checked on the now open wound on the archer's leg. She let out a quiet, slightly shaking breath, a thin line of tears forming in her eyes again.
"Hang in there, Clint…"
Toward the back of the jet, Vision and Wanda were sitting close together so that they were lightly touching, his arm draped around her securely. She looked down at where her hands were still shaking in her lap, gasping quietly when a few crimson sparks flickered around her fingers before she curled them into fists. The android's light eyes narrowed in concern.
"Are you all right, Wanda?" he asked quietly.
She slowly looked back at him, the concern on his face piercing her heart. She wasn't sure how to answer that normally simple question since really, it wasn't so simple. Physically, she seemed… all right. She'd been better, surely, but she wasn't hurt, not really. A little weak, a little drained, a little shaky, all from the gas, but she would be all right. Vision's presence alone gave her more strength.
But mentally…
Wanda took a deep, shuddering breath, curling her hands into even tighter fists when she felt more crimson light threatening to form. What she'd seen… what she'd heard… what she'd felt… none of it had been something she hadn't felt about herself. The world didn't welcome her, didn't embrace her. And it never would, not with who she was, what she was. Not with what she'd been made to be. Because she wasn't herself anymore, at least not the person she used to be. That girl was gone. How could she blame others for being afraid of her when she was still afraid of herself?
The only person who truly saw her, who wasn't afraid of her no matter what, was Vision. He accepted her fully despite what the likes of Strucker her turned her into. There was a bond of understanding… of what could possibly be called love… between them that she hadn't shared with anyone before. Not since Pietro. It was something she couldn't even bear to think of losing.
But she almost had. Because she had almost killed him. It didn't matter that it had been because of the hallucinogenic. She had still almost killed the only true connection she had in the world. She had nearly killed two other men who she considered trusted friends, which were few and far between. All because she hadn't been in control of herself, of her powers, when she'd fought so hard for that control.
… Or because she had finally decided to fully embrace them…
A tremor ran through her. No, she couldn't think like that. That wasn't who she was… not anymore…
"Wanda?" the android pressed, quietly and patiently.
"Sorry, Vis." Wanda looked back at him, deciding on what she could say since this was more of a conversation for when they were alone and could speak more intimately about her fears. "I'm just… thinking, that's all."
Vision frowned, and she had no doubt that he could see right through her. "About what?" he wondered softly. "What troubles you?"
Wanda blinked some tears that had risen to her eyes away as she lowered her gaze. She slowly uncurled her fists, seeing that a faint hint of red light remained around her fingers. Despite how she had tried to keep it at bay. She'd had a taste of what her full power could do; now, it didn't want to seem to be kept down.
"I… I saw something else back in the warehouse," she finally, hesitantly admitted just as quietly, her breath hitching. It was something she hadn't felt as though she could've told Vision right after he'd found her, as it was something she hadn't wanted to think about at the time. It was something she didn't like to think about since it was something she really didn't feel anymore. But besides Pietro, she'd seen a third figure along with Strucker and Fennhoff who had had a hand in creating what she now was, even though she'd absolved him of guilt, of any blame, a long time ago.
"What else did you see?"
Wanda swallowed hard, almost afraid to answer. She trusted Vision implicitly, she knew that she could tell him anything. But this was different. She didn't know how he would take this. He'd told her how he could never hate her, but she wasn't so sure when it came to this. This scared her, even as he tightened his arm around her ever so slightly in a comforting, reassuring way.
But before she could say anything, another gentle hand landed on her knee. She quickly looked up to see that Scott was giving her a small smile from where he'd chosen to crash on the floor not too far away from them. She shakily attempted to return the look, appreciating both the distraction and the comfort he was giving her.
"That, uh, that gas packed quiet a punch," the ex-con muttered, attempting to keep his tone light. But his face was pale, there were dark shadows under his haunted eyes, and the cheerful look he was attempting to give her didn't reach them. It was almost as though he was just a shell of himself without that bright and chipper disposition she'd come to associate with him. "Are you okay, kiddo?"
Wanda lightly set her hand on top of his in concern. "I will be," she told him. "How about you?"
Scott shrugged slightly with a brief chuckle. "Well, you know…" He let out a shaking breath as he shook his head. "It was rough, you know? Your mind's your worst enemy, and when that's what you're fighting…"
"Yes." Wanda nodded in understanding as she squeezed his hand. That had always been Johann Fennhoff's greatest specialty– making his victims fight their own mind until they no longer knew what was real and what wasn't and were desperate for any way out that they could get. Fortunately, she, Scott, and Clint hadn't been under his influence long enough to reach that point, but she had seen on a couple of occasions what happened to someone who had been in the mad doctor's so-called care for that long. She shuddered. It had never been a pretty sight.
But what Fennhoff had done was caused her to fight herself, against her own dark, worst impulses. What scared her was that they had nearly won, and still possibly could. It was something she knew she could never allow to happen.
One drawback to her power was that her mind was never quite just her own, was never completely quiet. Because even if she wasn't trying to, Wanda could hear glimpses into the unaware minds of those around her. It sometimes worked in her favor, and if it was intentional at times, she was usually just curious. The secrets that lived in other people's heads belonged to her as well, though she always kept them to herself. It was a burden she shared with friends and strangers alike. And it was only with Vision that the voices ever stopped, that her mind could truly be hers and be quietly even if just for a little while. Those were her favorite moments. When the world was still.
Even now, subconscious voices filled her head. Sam's silent encouragement to Clint to keep fighting and giving himself a pep talk as he worked to save his life. The crushing fear for Clint that Natasha refused to show as she begged whoever was listening to spare her best friend. Steve's dread about Fennhoff– about confronting the doctor again, about being willing to face this monster from his past if it meant saving Tony from a fate he was all too familiar with– along with rage at the older man for all he'd done, and blame at himself for how he should have done more last time. Flickers of guilt, of sorrow, from Clint– meaning he was still clinging to life, even if just barely – involving someone he'd loved named Barney…
Though she didn't need physical contact with another person for her ability to work, Wanda was well aware that it often went a long way in helping her to focus on a specific person. While she could hear everyone, Scotts' voice was loudest since their hands were still touching. In contrast to the attempted kind smile on his face, his mind was screaming. She could nearly feel his fear, his desperation to find someone like they were her own…
"It made you see your daughter, didn't it?" she whispered.
Scott looked back at her with surprise for a moment before he sighed and lowered his gaze. He carefully removed his hand from hers. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and chuckled instead. "Uh, yeah… yeah, it did…"
Wanda's gaze faltered. "I'm sorry, Scott…. I didn't mean to pry…" she murmured.
"N-no, it…" Scott paused, passing a hand over his face before he briefly shook his head. "Maybe… maybe it'll help…"
"There is no need, Mr. Lang," Vision told him gently.
"I appreciate that, but… I think I want to?" The ex-con cleared his throat. He turned back to Wanda. "One of the main features of this suit is something called a regulator. It's what makes me shrink or grow, basically. But if you go too small, you… well, you risk being lost out in what's called the Quantum Realm. And normally… normally you don't come back from that. Hank, the guy who was Ant-Man before me, lost his wife that way."
Wanda's brow furrowed. "So… did you see Cassie…?"
"Yeah." Scott's voice broke, a thin line of tears in his eyes. "She was so scared… and I couldn't find her…" He stopped, taking a deep breath as he blinked away the moisture obscuring his vision. "Um… I know it wasn't real, I do…. I know she's okay, she's safe…. But I just… I wish that I could just see her, y'know? Hold her, and make sure of that myself…"
"Maybe… maybe there's a way you can…" Wanda said.
But the ex-con gave her a sad smile in return. "I'm not sure how."
Wanda simply nodded. Not knowing quite what to say in response since she wasn't sure how he could go see his daughter either, she rested her head on Vision's shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and safety of his presence to surround her.
Steve's jaw was set tight as he kept his gaze straight ahead, though he kept an ear on his team behind him. They'd suffered a heavy blow, that went without saying. Not only did their lead turn up nothing on Tony, the ambush had nearly taken three of them out. Had nearly claimed one of their own. Despair hung heavily in the quinjet. Even though Wanda and Scott hadn't been harmed physically, the damage mentally had been extensive. It would take quite some time to recover from that, along with getting their strength back from the effects of the gas itself. He hated to admit it, but it was precious time that couldn't afford to be wasted if they wanted to find Tony in time and bring the man they'd come to know and love back home.
And then Clint…
The Captain briefly closed his eyes. It was clear to him that Fennhoff's main target in the ambush had been the archer, but what he necessarily wasn't sure of was why. He knew about the other man's experiences with the doctor, just as Clint knew about bits and pieces of his, and he remembered that Fennhoff had killed the older Barton in return for Clint stopping him from recruiting Natasha for Hydra. Even though that had been quite some time ago, he wasn't surprised that the old man had held onto the perceived grudge for that long.
What did concern him was how Fennhoff had known that they would be there. And how he'd known that he would be watching.
The doctor seemed to be making an effort to get his attention, to call him out. They certainly had plenty of unfinished business between them that stretched back years, but the way he was trying to get to him was strange. Taking Tony… trying to kill Clint…
What was Fennhoff's game?
But then, Steve's jaw eased a bit as he took a deep breath. He would worry about all of that later. His immediate priority was Clint, and the welcoming lights of the former Avengers Tower had just come into view.
At least one thing was going right for them.
For now.
Rhodey made a parking spot in front of the Tower and shut off the car. Peter was out of the backseat even before the vehicle had completely stopped. The Colonel and Happy followed, all heading toward the front door.
"Steve's already here," Rhodey muttered as he dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. "Sam texted me. Clint was… well, not quite stable, but alive when they got here. Also got an alert from one of Helen's assistants, she should be here, too…. So we'll have to hope for the best."
Happy's brow furrowed with concern as he looked up at the Tower above them. Peter wrapped his arms around himself, fighting off a slight chill. First Tony had been taken and then made to appear as though he'd died. And now Hawkeye had nearly been killed. It all had to be related…
Fennhoff. Could he… this seemingly harmless old man… really be behind all of this? It didn't seem possible.
When they entered the lobby, they found Pepper waiting by the elevators, her face slightly pale and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. A drowsy Lily was tucked under her arm.
"What's going on?" the CEO asked anxiously as they approached. "Doctor Cho's here, and…"
Rhodey lightly grasped her arm while Happy hit the up arrow for the elevator so they could get to the medical bay, Peter beside him watching the doors nervously. "It's all right, Pep," he answered, trying to keep his own voice calm. "It's Clint…"
The head of security turned to Peter as Pepper and the Colonel continued to discuss in quiet tones. He let out a quiet breath. "You okay there, kid?" he wondered. "You look like you're about to pass out."
Peter looked back at him. No, he really wasn't okay. An android made to look like his uncle's murderer had been stalking and attacked him. Said android had nearly blown them up. One of their own had nearly been killed. And whoever was responsible for that still had his mentor. And was possibly his school psychologist.
He thought he'd been ready for being an Avenger along with all that came with it.
But maybe… maybe he was wrong…
"Y-yeah," the teen finally stuttered with a jerky nod. "I… I'm fine. Of course. I'm fine…. Why wouldn't I be?"
Happy arched an eyebrow. Peter grinned back innocently. But before either of them could say anything more, there was a quiet ding as the elevator doors slid open. The head of security waited for Pepper, Peter, and Rhodey to step inside before he followed suit, and they were all silent as the doors closed behind them. The web-slinger stood next to the CEO, her hand on his shoulder protectively, which he was glad for. Lily nudged his arm with her nose, and a small smile appeared on his face as he scratched behind her ear.
When they reached their floor, they found the medical bay to be a flurry of activity. Vision, Wanda, and Scott were sitting in chairs against the wall in the waiting area, all appearing pale, shaken, and overall the worse for wear. Wanda in particular was silently crying as she stared at the observation window across the room from her with fear. The android's hand was wrapped around hers securely, his thumb brushing lightly across her smooth knuckles. Beside them, Scott was staring blankly at the floor, his fingers drumming an uneven, frantic rhythm against the chair's arm.
In front of the observation window, Steve studied what was happening inside the second room intently, his face betraying nothing, with his arms crossed against his broad chest. Beside him, Natasha was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed from tears. Her foot was tapping an absent, agitated rhythm on the floor as her eyes faltered while she watched what was happening.
Peter was surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have been, to see that Nick Fury was with them.
Rhodey walked over to join Steve and Natasah, setting his hands on her tense shoulders and speaking quietly to her as she leaned closer to him. Happy made his way over to where Vision, Wanda, and Scott were sitting to check on them and see if he could get them anything. Pepper slowly walked to the observation window, her gaze faltering as she held Lily close to her chest.
A moment passed before the teen walked forward to join them, his eyes widening in horror at what he saw. Sam and a dark-haired woman who must have been Dr. Cho were standing over a bed with Clint lying on it. He already looked like death. His face was ashen, and he was unresponsive to the two applying pressure to his chest, where he could see there was a lot of blood. He was being given oxygen, and the only indicator that he was still alive was the machine he was hooked up to reading his vitals. With his enhanced hearing, he could tell that they weren't good.
Too much too much too much too much too…
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fury lean toward Steve and whisper something to him. The latter nodded, watching the archer for a moment longer before he turned away from the window and made his way over to Peter. He set a light hand on the web-slinger's shoulder, causing him to jump slightly.
"Hey, Peter. May I have a word?"
The words were gentle, but he could hear there was a great deal of severity underneath that, also. Peter glanced quickly up at him before turning back to where Clint was fighting for his life. He vaguely remembered Happy saying that Steve had wanted to talk with him. "Uh… y-yeah, sounds great," he agreed quietly. Uncertainly.
The Captain nodded, turning a little to look at Fury. "Keep me updated on any changes," he told him.
The director met his gaze, clear concern and weariness in his eye. "Will do, Cap," he assured him.
Peter took a deep breath as he followed the Super Soldier back to the elevator, stepping inside after him and watched as he hit the button for the penthouse a few floors above them. He shifted nervously, a stark contrast to his companion's calm, quiet demeanor. The silence was unbearable. He cleared his throat.
"Is… is Mr. Barton going to be okay?"
Steve glanced over and met his gaze. His bearded features betrayed nothing, but there was a heavy look in his eyes that made the teen's heart sink. "Barton's a fighter," he answered quietly. "And Helen's one of the best in her profession, as is Sam. He's in the best place possible to have the best chance to pull through."
It wasn't the most promising answer, Peter realized. His brow furrowed. "What happened, Captain A… Steve?"
The Captain frowned, as though he were trying to decide how to best answer that question. The web-slinger held his breath. But the elevator quietly dinged as it came to a stop before either could say anything, and he smiled faintly as he gestured ahead of him when the doors slid open to reveal the dimly lit penthouse. Peter swallowed nervously as he stepped out first, Steve following after him.
"Have a seat anywhere you'd like, Peter."
The teen's gaze faltered as he slowly crossed the large room, his senses on high alert and acutely aware of the feeling of being watched. He wandered over to one of the couches closer to the windows so that he could look out at the clear night and brightly lit, bustling city far below.
Why did he have the distinct feeling that he was in some kind of trouble?
Steve sighed quietly as he sat on another couch adjacent to his, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Peter couldn't help but think that with how the man's eyes seemed dimmer than usual and how his broad shoulders were drooping ever so slightly that he appeared… defeated.
This wasn't going to be good. He could feel it.
"So… what happened?" the web-slinger managed to get out, his voice cracking a little. "I mean… I should know… right? I mean, I… I'm a… a part of this team…" He hated how uncertain he sounded with that claim.
A moment passed before Steve nodded, a quiet chuckle breaking through his lips before he looked back at him. "Yes, you should," he agreed, causing Peter's heart to lift ever so slightly. But then, he cleared his throat as his gaze faltered. "Barton led a team for a typical recon mission to an old Hydra base he'd cleared out himself years ago. And–!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. Why a Hydra base?" Peter asked, not even wanting to think about how he had just interrupted Captain America. "Is… Did Mr. Stark get taken by Hydra?"
Steve nodded. "Yes," he answered. "Or at least by the small sect of it that managed to survive."
Peter's eyes widened as he took in this information and thought it over. Though he was only left with more questions. This was bigger than he'd initially thought. Way bigger. "Why would they take him?"
At this, the Captain briefly but noticeably hesitated. The teen's heart skipped a beat. "We're not completely sure," he told him carefully. "We've heard nothing in terms of their intent, only what they've done so far with faking Tony's death and placing that blame on you."
"Do… do you know why they would've done that?" Peter's gaze faltered. "Blamed me, I mean…. I don't think I've done anything that would've gotten me on Hydra's radar… I didn't even know they were still a thing, honestly, not much of one…"
Steve took a deep breath. "We don't think it has anything to do with you personally," he explained. "More that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A convenient scapegoat and a way to get attention off of themselves. And to possibly have some leverage over Tony. We think it's possible that they'd want him to join them. He has invaluable resources that they could use to grow back to full power."
The teen straightened up, panicked. "He wouldn't do that, though!" he said. "He wouldn't…" His sentence trailed off as a realization settled in. "That's why they blamed me… isn't it? To make him do it."
"It's highly possible," Steve replied gently. There was a flicker of something in his eye he couldn't discern. "Though we have nothing definitive yet."
There were a couple things the Super Soldier was leaving out, Peter could feel it. He just didn't know what they were, or why he was doing so. But he needed the whole story, though he knew he wouldn't get it if he asked. The man was resolute.
"So… what happened to Mr. Hawkeye… Barton? Clint?"
Steve sighed. "Barton led the recon mission to what was supposed to be a cleared base with Wanda and Lang," he explained. "But someone was waiting for them. They unleased a hallucinogenic gas, and–!"
"Wait. Like what Mr. Stark and I were exposed to before he was taken?" Peter wondered.
The Captain possessed a hell of a lot of patience, the teen realized. He didn't even appear fazed that he'd been interrupted twice in the past few minutes. "Yes, I'm certain of it," he said.
"So… that's why everyone's so shaken up down there?"
"Partly."
Peter thought back to before the building had exploded… how long ago had that even happened? It felt like a lifetime ago… He remembered the gas that had been released, how he'd been so certain he'd seen his uncle on that rooftop with them even though it was impossible… how shaken whatever Tony had seen had made him… how he'd been convinced he'd seen the Winter Soldier there as well, even though others had told him it was impossible… that he couldn't, he wouldn't, have had anything to do with Tony's kidnapping…
"May I continue?" Steve wondered, arching a bemused eyebrow.
The web-slinger startled out of his thoughts. "Oh, y-yeah. Of course… go ahead."
The Captain took a deep breath. "From what we could gather, whoever released the gas was the one who attacked Barton," he concluded. "From what Romanoff was able to get, they made it personal. I'm assuming that someone either dressed as someone important from Barton's past, or another android was sent in."
"Another android?" Peter repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Just how many of these things are running around?"
Steve let out a weary sigh. "Confirmed? Three," he told him. "The one you told me about, and the two that attacked Rhodey down at the ferry port the night we believed Tony's body was discovered. Though from what Rhodey told me, the one that attacked you is out of commission now, too."
"Yeah, it somehow self-destructed in the back of Happy's car…" The teen's sentence trailed off. The all-too familiar heat of anger started to rise up in his chest, to build up behind his eyes. "Why wasn't I told about the others? Wouldn't I need to know about those?"
I'm on this team…
"Nothing came of that android attack." Steve studied the teen closely. "So we thought–!"
"Yeah, well, maybe that would have helped explain why the man who killed my uncle, who died the same day, was following me around looking for me a little sooner, okay?" Peter snapped. When the man didn't say anything in response, he pressed his palms against his burning eyes as he leaned back against the cushion.
Too much too much too much too…
"I'm sorry," the web-slinger mumbled.
"No, you have no need to apologize," Steve told him, leaning forward again. "You should have been informed. I suppose with Tony's supposed death, it just slipped our minds." He sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you when you needed me."
Peter lowered his hands, looking back at him with surprise. One of the men he'd looked up to for so long was apologizing to him? "N-no, it's fine… it turned out fine…" he protested. Though he hated how his tone wavered ever so slightly. "Plus you had something more important to deal with."
The Super Soldier smiled slightly. A flicker of sympathy flashed across his face. "Was that your android? The man who killed your uncle?" he wondered softly. When his young companion was only able to nod, he sighed. "All right. That reinforces my decision."
The web-slinger froze, every sense on high alert. His skin prickled while the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He hesitated. "What, uh… what decision?"
Steve met his gaze, and Peter could see the inner turmoil behind his eyes. It was something that was going to be difficult for him to say, he could see that. A bad feeling pooled in his stomach.
"Peter, I'm thankful for all the insight you've been able to give us so far with what you remember from the attack," the Captain said. "That and other trails we've followed have given us some pretty solid leads and an idea of what happened to Tony. We're trying to locate him now."
The teen straightened up on the couch again. "You are? What's going on? Where are you…" His question trailed off when the man raised his hand a bit to calm him.
"I also appreciate all of your enthusiasm." Steve's gaze faltered. "But with what we've gathered and pieced together so far, it's left me with little choice." He paused briefly. "I'm going to have to pull you from the search. For your own safety."
A moment of silence passed between them as Peter simply stared back at the Captain in disbelief. Pull him from the search? He couldn't do that… could he? He was a part of this team. He could help. He knew things the rest of the Avengers didn't. He could do more. He just needed the opportunity to prove himself. To show them. Just because he was fifteen didn't mean… He could…
"Pu… pull me from…?" he stuttered. "No-no, I can… please just…"
"There will be other things that you can do to help us, Peter," Steve assured him gently but firmly. It was a tone that signaled finality, that there was no more room for discussion. His mind had been made up already. Though there was also a trace of what appeared to be understanding, of empathy, on his face. It made the teen's stomach churn. "But I can no longer allow you to be out there with us. Not on good conscience."
"And if you died, I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."
Tony's words from shortly before things went to hell echoed in his mind. His gaze flitted quickly to the large windows, though there was nothing out of the ordinary. Outside of typical New York City traffic, things were quiet.
But the relief that they weren't under attack was short lived as dread, as anger, replaced it. Peter began to shake, tears rushing to his eyes. First the billionaire had tried to take his suit away, had said that he couldn't have something happening to him on his conscience. Now Steve…
Why had they both treated him like he couldn't be a part of this team? Why had they both treated him like just a kid? It didn't matter that he was younger than they were. He was strong. He could do this. He just had to show them.
He could find Tony.
"Y-you can't do that," the teen protested. "You can't… you can't take me off this now… You can't!"
Steve's gaze faltered as he sighed. "I'm sorry, Peter, I really am," he muttered. "But it's for your own safety. I can't afford to risk that."
"You know what I can do!" A couple tears fell from Peter's eyes as he leaned toward the other man. "I've fought you. You've seen me!"
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of the Captain's lips. "Yes, I have. And I'm impressed," he told him. "However, I wasn't trying to harm you. As you've already seen, these guys won't hesitate." His gaze faltered. "You're also unable to use your suit. They took that choice from you for a reason. Which is why I can't allow you to get any closer to this."
But Peter couldn't accept it. He just couldn't. He had to do something. "I… I can go without it… I-I don't need it…" He swallowed hard. "Please… you have to let me help find Mr. Stark. After what happened–!"
"As I said, we could use your help in other ways." Steve briefly dropped his gaze to his folded hands before meeting his again. "I'm sorry, Peter. It's not just for your safety, but also possibly Tony's. Depending on what these Hydra agents want from him, the risk is too high to have you out there with us."
"But…" The web-slinger desperately started scrounging around, searching for his mask. His stomach dropped when he remembered his suit was at home, hidden away in his backpack. "I swear, I-I can help…. Karen… my suit's AI… she records things when I'm wearing my mask, and… I had it on for a short time, I can… show you the little bit she caught up there…"
He could tell by Steve's face that he wasn't going to relent. There had to be something he could do to convince the Captain to let him keep helping with the search. There had to be…
His heart leapt, and he quickly started to dig in his pockets. "I have something…. The android gave it to me…. It belongs to Mr. Stark…"
Steve watched curiously as Peter scrambled for what he was looking for, his gaze wavering. He was so desperate to help find the billionaire, and he wished that he could let him. He knew all too well what it felt like to want to prove himself when no one would take him seriously. He really cared about Tony, that was obvious. But with what Fennhoff could have in mind, he couldn't let Peter get any closer to this. It was critical enough that Tony had spent as much time as he already had in his clutches. He couldn't let the mad doctor get his claws into Peter, too. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did. Not when it seemed like Fennhoff wanted to settle the old score against him, also.
The teen finally pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to the man. It gleamed in the light. "Here!" he said, a little breathless. "The android had it. He mentioned Mr. Stark."
The Super Soldier stood and approached the couch before carefully taking the watch from him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze passed over the crack in the face. "This is Tony's," he agreed quietly. "It was his father's."
"Yes!" Peter got to his feet to face him. "The android also said that Mr. Stark sends his regards."
Steve frowned. Typical Fennhoff mind games. "Did it say anything else about him?"
The web-slinger hesitated, causing the Captain to look up at him. "He… it… said that it could take me to him…"
So, Fennhoff was trying to get to Peter. Playing on the kid's desire to find the billionare would be an effective way to snare him in this growing web. He nodded slightly as he held the watch out to him to take back. "Why don't you hold onto this for now?" he suggested. "You can give it back to him when we find him. In the meantime, we'll find another way for you to help us…"
"No, wait." Peter nearly stumbled forward so that he was standing directly in front of Steve. "You… you have to let me help find him…. I… I can help, I swear…. You wanted my help. If you just listen to me…"
"This isn't just about what could happen to you, Peter," Steve said, his voice patient yet firm. Resolute. "This is also about Tony, and what Hydra could have in mind for him. If something happens to you, it wouldn't be good for either of you. So for both of you, I'm pulling you from the search itself."
His tone made it clear that there was no room left for discussion. That was it. The Captain wasn't going to take him seriously anymore. He didn't think he could handle his own against the criminal organization. He didn't think he could help find the billionaire.
And maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this team. What if the android had managed to do more damage to his friends, or even his aunt? What if he hadn't been able to stop it? What if he only messed things up as they looked for Tony? Like he had so far?
Maybe he wasn't made for this, after all…
But then, the teen's brow furrowed. There was still a piece of this puzzle that wasn't really fitting neatly in his mind. "Hey, what about…"
But he stopped when the Super Soldier's phone vibrated with a text, and he gave Peter an apologetic look before he checked it. His face darkened as he read it over.
The hair on the back of the teen's neck stood on end. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
Steve sighed as he slipped the small flip phone back in his pocket. "It's Barton," he answered, though his tone betrayed nothing. "I've gotta head back downstairs." He met his younger companion's gaze with a sigh. "I really am sorry, Peter. But I had no choice. I know how much Tony means to you, and I hope that you can understand why this has to be done. There will be other ways you can help us, I promise. Because I would still appreciate your help. We'll discuss that soon, along with more about who's in charge of taking Tony so you understand what we're facing. I feel it's only right that you should be informed about what we're dealing with."
"O-okay… yeah…" Peter swallowed hard, blinking against more traitorous tears that threatened to rise to his eyes. HE tried to smile, even though he felt completely opposite. "Th-that's fine…"
The Captain's gaze wavered. A flicker of what appeared to be sympathy flashed across his face, and he opened his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it. He nodded instead before he turned and headed back to the elevator to head down to the medical bay.
The web-slinger watched him until the doors slid closed behind him. He then turned back to the couch, grabbing a pillow and throwing it across the room as a frustrated cry broke through his lips. He tried focusing on his breathing, attempting to take slow, even breaths as he brought a shaking hand to his head.
He couldn't just sit and not help find Tony, no matter what Steve said. He just couldn't. He'd already lost someone who was important to him because he hadn't been able to do anything. There was no way he could let that happen again. No matter what. He had these powers for a reason. He had to believe that, he had to use them. He had to believe that he'd been granted a second chance with his suit after Tony had tried to take it from him. What did those things even matter if he couldn't use them to find his mentor? To be a part of the team he'd always dreamed of being a part of?
Peter slowly lowered his hand, turning to face the expansive windows at the brightly lit city far below. Something from the conversation he'd overheard between Steve and some of the rogue Avengers when he'd called the Super Soldier about the android resurfaced in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that this detail that had yet to fall into place was important in some big way.
Fennhoff.
The name he'd heard Steve say to the others when the emergency situation had come up with Clint. Which he had no doubt was connected to what had happened to him and Tony. He'd asked if what had gone down had had to do with this Fennhoff person…
It couldn't be a coincidence that someone with that same name had showed up at his school so shortly after the attack down at the ferry port. And it wasn't like Fennhoff was a common last name. The chances of there being two different Fennhoffs in such close proximity in such closely related incidents was highly unlikely. Almost impossible, if he were willing to bet on it. There had to be a connection there.
Although… Peter frowned, shaking his head slightly. While his temporary school psychologist had always come across to him as creepy and had his every sense on high alert, he had trouble seeing him as being responsible for the sort of destruction at the harbor, for what had happened to Clint. By all appearances, he was a harmless old man.
But if he had androids to do his dirty work… like the one that'd been following him, the two that had attacked Rhodey, and potentially the one that could have nearly killed the archer…
He should have told Steve his concerns about his psychologist. That maybe he was the Fennhoff they were looking for… But he'd been so thrown off guard by what the Captain had wanted to talk to him about, by being pulled from the search for his mentor, and Steve himself had seemed scattered and shaken, even if he wasn't willing to show it, about all that had happened with Clint that it just hadn't seemed to be a good time. He could mention it whenever they continued their conversation…
The teen couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. He'd be going back to school the next day after classes had been cancelled for Tony's supposed funeral. He'd be having his next appointment with Fennhoff.
If he could trap him somehow… if he could get something out of him that would link him to what happened on that rooftop…
The billionaire hadn't believed that he could handle the responsibilities of what being an Avenger entailed after taking a chance in letting him do so. Just like Steve didn't now since he only saw him as a kid.
But if he could bring him some sort of proof that linked the school's interim psychologist to all that was happening, to Hydra, the Captain would have no choice but to allow him to help. To let him be a member of this team…
Peter's heart leapt. He glanced down at Tony's watch he still held, carefully tightening his hold around it. He could do this. He knew he could.
Don't worry, Mr. Stark. I'll help find you. I'll get to the bottom of this. Just hold on.
Steve stepped out of the elevator to see everyone pressed up against the glass of the observation window, most with pale faces and clear concern in their features. Wanda was leaning into Vision's side, silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Scott stood close beside them, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. Pepper stood straight and still with a hand covering her mouth, Happy next to her with a grim look on his face and an arm draped over her shoulders. Natasha trembled slightly, her hands curled into fists so tight that her knuckles were white as she blinked furiously to keep any unwanted tears at bay. Rhodey's brow was furrowed as he kept a secure hold on both of her shoulders. Behind them stood Fury, his arms crossed voer his chest and his eye staring intently ahead.
"Come on, Barton…" he whispered. "Don't do this."
The Captain's gaze faltered as he walked forward to join them, stopping beside the director. "I got here as quickly as I could," he muttered. "Is he…?"
Fury's lips pressed into a thin, stern line. He shook his head briefly.
Steve's heart sank as he turned to the window himself, seeing that the machines Clint was hooked up to were setting off alarms, signaling that he had flatlined. His hand curled into a fist as he clenched his jaw tightly. They'd already been made to believe that they'd lost one of their teammates, and still very well might if they couldn't find him in time. To lose another now…
"You can do it, Barton."
Natasha kept her gaze on Clint's deathly pale, eerily blank face, only looking away when the sight was obscured by more tears. She then decided to instead watch Sam and Helen as they frantically worked to revive the archer. "You promised," she murmured, her words directed toward the former. "You promised you wouldn't let him die on your watch. You promised…"
Rhodey tightened his hold on the assassin's shoulders. Steve sighed as he reached out and set a gentle hand on her tense back. "Has his family been alerted?" the latter asked quietly.
"I called Laura," Natasha answered just as softly. There was the slightest catch to her voice that the Captain's enhanced hearing caught. "She said that she and the kids were going to fly in as soon as possible. She wants to be here… either way." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I'd hoped that if things went south, he'd… he'd wait until…"
"It's all right, Nat," the Colonel muttered, pulling her a little closer. His gaze saddened when she didn't resist like she normally may have. "We're all here for you, and for Barton and his family."
"We are," Steve agreed. "I'm not giving up on him yet."
A moment passed before Natasha set one slightly shaking hand on top of Rhodey's. She reached behind her with her other, searching for the Super Soldier's hand and wrapping her slender fingers around his tightly when he held it out for her.
She couldn't lose Clint… she just couldn't…
Fury's gaze faltered as he watched her attempting to hold herself together, admiring how she was doing so when he knew how much Clint meant to her. He remembered when the archer had first brought her back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters after he'd been given strict orders to kill her since she was too much of a threat to keep alive. He'd been irate, though he'd understood. Coulson had made a similar call when it had been Clint on the opposite side of the law, and just as he'd trusted the other agent, he'd also trusted the archer.
And Natasha had proven herself trustworthy in time. After all, she'd been a large reason why Clint had returned to them alive after they'd both been captured and tortured by Fennhoff. He'd owed her that much. Since that day, Natasha had been attached to the archer, always claiming she owed him a debt. But he'd always been able to see that it was more than that, even if she had never wanted to acknowledge it.
Sighing, Fury reached out and set a secure, supportive hand on the back of the assassin's neck. He felt her lean back a little into his touch. It was the slight action that let him know just how scared she actually was.
Then, Natasha's breath caught in her chest as she took a tiny step forward, her damp eyes set ahead of her intently. Steve followed her, his gaze set on Clint's vitals. Movement. Small but traceable. There was life. His heart was beating again.
The tension seemed to ease out of everyone gathered as sighs of relief passed through them. Sam and Helen visibly relaxed before they each continued to staunch the blood flow in his chest and leg. The former glanced up, his tired gaze landing on where Natasha stood. He nodded once with the slightest hint of a smile. Mouthed something.
Not on my watch.
Natasha smiled slightly despite herself, shaking her head a little. "You son of a bitch, Barton…" she murmured. "Hang in there…"
Fury allowed himself to take a deep breath, stepping back a bit. He rested a hand on Steve's shoulder. "How'd the kid take being pulled from the search?" he asked.
Steve met his gaze. "About as well as can be expected," he answered quietly. "So not well."
"Well, we can keep an eye on him," the director muttered. "Rhodes mentioned that there's a tracker in the suit that Stark made for him."
"I don't know how that'll help if he can't wear the suit," the Captain mused, his brow furrowed. "With how Fennhoff's targeting him, making him look guilty, that'd be dangerous."
Fury arched an eyebrow. "You really think that's going to stop him if he's that determined to find Stark, Captain?" he wondered. When the other man couldn't quite suppress a smirk, he sighed. "There's also a tracker in his backpack. Rhodes and the security guard put it there after he left it in an alley too long."
"That's good to know." Steve crossed his arms, shaking his head slightly. "Kid's smart, but he's too emotionally invested in this. It's perfect for Fennhoff. He's already shown an interest in him."
The director nodded in agreement. Fennhoff. That man, no matter which alias he'd gone under over the years, had caused him a hell of a lot of headache. He was more than ready to be done with it all. "Then we'll just have to make sure he never reaches the kid."
"Yeah." The Super Soldier's gaze faltered as he glanced back at the elevator. "For both him and Tony."
"Hello, Sergeant Barnes."
Pain… so much pain…
He looked down at his left shoulder, where most of the blazing, blinding agony was emanating from, spreading through the whole left side of his body, his neck, his head…
… his arm wasn't there…
… crimson stained the vivid white of the snow around him…
… rough hands dragged him through the snow… he didn't have the strength to resist, to scream…
… the last thing he remembered… hanging from a train… a hand reaching for him… Steve… he fell…
… his whole body was trembling… from cold or from shock, he couldn't tell…
… how was he alive?... he shouldn't be…
… so cold… so much pain… numbness started to settle in… his vision faded in and out, his mind shut down… he let the darkness take him…
… a wrinkled, almost kind, smiling face appeared before his… a tender hand set lightly on the side of his head… a comfort among all the fear, the pain, the uncertainty… a promise of hope, of healing… he clung to it…
"Once he has recovered, stronger than ever, he will be perfect."
"You have no need to fear, Sergeant Barnes."
… his arm had returned… at least sort of… he slowly curled the metallic fingers into a fist… there was strength there that he had never had before… it would take some time to adjust… the pain had faded some time ago, like a distant memory…
… now there was only power…
"The serum has worked well. But it is not what I need. It lacks what Erskine's had. That is what I need. Zola has fallen short."
… Hydra…
"But he has his uses. He will still be valuable to us."
… no… he couldn't help these people… he couldn't do what they wanted, he wouldn't… he'd fought a war against these people…
… with Steve…
… Steve…
… he easily knocked a few Hydra agents out of his way in his rage… a couple wouldn't be getting up again…
"He still remembers too much. We cannot control him!"
… he aimed a punch at that wrinkled face, once so kind and full of promises of help, or rescue, not lined with eerie malice…
… time seemed to slow when his flesh fist was caught… his heart nearly stopped as his eyes widened in fear… he couldn't move, even as a second wrinkled hand tenderly brushed against his cheek… not possible…
"I can."
… more agony… the current surged through every corner of his skull, his brain, eroding all the information and all of the memories, the good and the bad, kept there…
… he struggled, he resisted… still able to see a friendly, familiar face there…
… Steve…
… don't leave me…
"I'm impressed you have resisted me for as long as you have, Sergeant Barnes. I commend you for your effort. You are stronger than I anticipated."
… a sharp pain pierced his temple, causing him to cry out…
"But you can only fight me for so long, soldier."
… The old man wrote in a red journal… one with a black star on its cover… he spoke the words he'd written to him, each one echoing like a drumbeat through his mind…
… Steve…
… please…
"Let us try these words. They should keep him… under control. And he shall do whatever you desire. If not, repeat the process."
"Soldier?"
… His own voice wasn't even recognizable to him anymore…. It didn't belong to him…
… nothing did…
"Ready to comply."
… That wrinkled face… that kind expression… darkened as it loomed before him…
"… Howard Stark."
Bucky gasped quietly, running a slow hand down his face as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Since he'd taken refuge in Wakanda after what had gone down in Siberia at T'Challa's insistence, and after he had been taken off of cryo freeze, the princess of the reclusive nation… Shuri, he remembered her name was… had been working extensively with him. She'd believed there was a way to remove all the long years of conditioning that Hydra… that Fennhoff… had worked so hard to instill in him. He hadn't believed her at first. The conditioning had been a part of him… he hadn't been able to trust his own mind… for so long that he couldn't remember, at least not much, of what his life had been like before it.
The sessions with Shuri had been long, but to his surprise, had yielded results. Her methods and the technology used– tech that she'd invented herself, he was in awe of everything that she showed and explained to him– were so different than what Hydra had done to put everything into his head, and everything after to keep him controlled, to begin with. With the criminal organization, it had only been pain. Agony. Fear. All used to force him to comply.
With the princess, on the other hand, he had felt none of that. A little uncertainty at the start, but he'd quickly learned there'd been no need for it. Shuri's methods to remove the conditioning had been gentle, easing into his mind and soothing little bits at a time. Cleansing rather than scrambling or controlling. Mending instead of taking. As she'd worked, it'd felt as though some sort of toxin or disease had been flushed from his body.
For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he could say he felt… good. His mind was finally his own again. The world around him looked different, a little brighter maybe. He could breathe. Every movement, every thought, every emotion was his and only his. Everything about him belonged to him again. He'd be forever grateful to her for bringing him back, as it was a freedom he wasn't sure he'd ever experience again.
Though her efforts were a double-edged sword. Along with every corner of his mind becoming his again also came the memories. He'd always known every face of every person he'd ever killed. He remembered all of them, the look in their eyes as he claimed their lives seared into his mind. They haunted him, either while awake or asleep so he could never escape their silent accusations. Sure he'd had no choice, despite how a quiet part of him buried in the back of his mind had always tried to resist and rebel against what Hydra had wanted. Despite the mind control, the blame would always remain with him. He'd still done all of the terrible things they'd made him do.
But with the barriers in his brain being broken down, the dam that kept all the memories he'd tried to repress and keep hidden had also crumbled. He'd spent many long nights unable to sleep or plagued by nightmares after Shuri had begun her sessions with him as lost trauma after lost trauma had been dredged up by his subconscious. As he'd relieved it all. Memories of his first round of torture when his regiment had been taken by Hydra, how he hadn't allowed himself to be broken no matter what experiments they'd run on him. The fears that Steve– suddenly not small and sickly like he'd always known him– rescuing him from that living hell had only been a fever dream. The fall from the train. His so-called rescue and further torture by Hydra, the wish that the fall had just claimed his life instead of him being used as nothing more than a weapon, a tool, for the criminal organization to use however they wished. It would have been far more merciful. All the pain, all the fear, all the agony as they ripped the memories, the pieces of himself, from his mind and stuffed words and false ideas back in to keep him controlled. To take away all that had been left of him. The feeling of how his strength to resist had deteriorated during that time, how he'd slowly forgotten anything or anyone he'd ever loved, how he'd surrendered control of himself.
He remembered all of it. There had been good reason he'd been so desperate to forget.
But he also remembered Fennhoff.
Bucky's brow furrowed as he gazed up at the light layer of clouds forming in the mid-morning sun. He didn't remember exactly everything about the Hydra agent Steve had Skyped him to ask about, which surprised, as well as frustrated, him a little. As he'd told the Captain, the doctor had been in charge of his conditioning, at least with the methods used. He'd taken his life from him, piece by piece, memory by memory, and thought by thought. He'd implemented the words to control him. But he'd usually been more behind the scenes through it all. He hadn't seen too much of Fennhoff himself with as much as he'd been involved in the Winter Soldier program, not like he'd seen so much of Zola in the early stages, or when he'd seen Pierce almost all the time later on, as he'd been in charge of handling him.
The ex-assassin also recalled the doctor's fascination with the Super Soldier serum that Erskine had invented, that Steve had been given, that had almost bordered on obsession. He'd had to know everything about it, the intricacies of how it worked, and his frustration when Zola or others couldn't quite get it right. There were also little flickers of ideas that Fennhoff had had some kind of connection to the original serum itself, and to Schmidt, but he knew those couldn't be right. Fennhoff couldn't be that old.
There had also been an incident that had happened between the mad doctor and Captain America that he could remember vividly. Not the specifics, other than what his best friend had told him after the fact, or why Steve had gotten mixed up with Fennhoff, but he could call to mind the reactions of the other Hydra agents when they'd believed the old man had been lost at the hands of the Super Soldier. It hadn't been too much later that the organization had fallen after they'd been exposed by Natasha Romanoff.
His light gaze flickered ever so slightly before he brought his focus back to where it needed to be.
He'd been surprised to hear that name after so long– Fennhoff– even more so when Steve had told him that the doctor was responsible for what had happened to Tony Stark. It was a name that he'd hoped he could have forgotten about, that he'd wanted to forget about, since he'd believed the old man was no longer a concern just as the other Hydra agents had. There had almost been a… relief underneath the outrage by those around him that one of their high-ranking agents had fallen. After all, even Fennhoff's peers had been intimidated and unsettled by him to a degree. He recalled looking at all of the files, all of the deceased or MIA reports the doctor had accumulated over the years, even though he always seemed to show up again. Fennhoff was more a ghost story than even he had been as the Winter Soldier.
With all the history the head Hydra agent had with Steve, Bucky had to admit that he was confused about why Tony had been the target of his reemergence. His fascination with the spider kid didn't, however; as he'd told the Captain, Fennhoff had never left any loose ends, and he wouldn't hesitate to use the people closest to the billionaire to get what he wanted. And from what he recalled of their brief encounter in Germany, there was some sort of relationship between Tony and the kid. Easy target for the old man to get his hooked fingers into and exploit for his own gain.
Despite having been on opposite sides involving the Accords and on other matters, the ex-assassin had been able to tell that the spider boy was a good kid. He truly hoped that he didn't wind up getting mixed up in Fennhoff's game. And he hoped that Tony could be found soon, before he suffered any damage that couldn't be undone. He'd seen far too many people fall victim to the mad doctor and never be the same.
But Tony…
Bucky sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. What would Fennhoff want with Tony Stark? To join Hydra, sure. It was a possibility. But a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite reach, told him that it was more than that. Fennhoff wouldn't have been in charge of a simple recruitment mission, even if Hydra itself was on its deathbed. He would view it as beneath him, not worth his time and energy. If he wanted the billionaire in the organization, he had to have a very specific reason, some grander goal in mind. Or he had some other reason for wanting Tony broken.
He'd been racking his brain for any possible reason why Tony could have been taken, or where he could have been, ever since his last chat with Steve. It was a question that had been bothering him since his friend had asked it since he felt as though it was one he should know the answer to. After all, out of all of them, he knew Fennhoff the best. If anyone could figure out his motives or whereabouts, it should be him.
But Tony…
He sighed. Steve had seemed so determined, maybe even almost desperate, to find the billionaire when they'd talked. He couldn't blame him. Tony had been his friend, despite what had happened in Siberia, like Howard had been before him, and they had to hurry if they wanted to bring the man home intact. Bucky glanced down at his wrapped left shoulder, all that was left of where that metallic arm that Hydra had given him to turn him into a walking weapon had been. He was glad to be rid of it. It was freeing. While the blame, the guilt, still remained, the reminder of all that he'd done was gone. He couldn't hurt anyone anymore, not like he'd used to, anyway.
But he also couldn't help.
The ex-assassin's gaze faltered. Even if he could help Steve and the others find Tony, he knew the billionaire likely wouldn't have wanted his aid. Not after Siberia. Not when he was the reason his parents were dead. Not when Steve unwisely chose him.
It was something he didn't expect or deserve Tony's forgiveness for. But he still didn't want the other man to suffer at Fennhoff's hands. No one deserved that.
Which was why he could still try to help Steve from here, far away in Wakanda. There was something locked deep in his memory, he was certain of it, that would reveal some answers to many of the questions they all had. There had to be. Fennhoff's fascination with the serum, his fixation on Howard, the connection to Tony… it was all there. It had to be.
Howard Stark was the key to solving a big chunk of this puzzle, the means to win Fennhoff's twisted game, he was sure of it.
If only he could remember…
"… Tony…"
… Dad…? Is that you…?
"… Tony…"
… Dad… wait, please…
A bitter cold had started to settle deep into his very bones. His body trembled slightly as he fought to keep his eyes closed. Unconsciousness had been kind, much more so than reality. He hadn't had to be faced with the small, cramped room he'd been kept in, or the crazy old doctor who wanted him to join him, or his cosplaying buddies, or… or…
… Oh, God, Clint… Clint was dead… dead, all because he'd been looking for him…
… his fault his fault his fault his fault his…
He struggled instead to cling to the all-too fleeting visage of his father. Stern. Proud. But at least clear of the blood and bruises that had been haunting him. At least that…
But why he was trying to hold onto Howard so relentlessly, he wasn't sure. Something… there was some reason… his father had played an important role in all of this, Fennhoff had certainly been talking about him enough…
But what…?
… Dad, wait… tell me why… this is happening… please…
Howard vanished.
A particularly violent shiver caused Tony's eyes to snap open with a gasp. He slowly rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up on his arm with a wince, his stiff, bruised, and beaten body protesting to the movement, before he ran a weak, shaking hand down his face. He then cautiously glanced around him to get a bearing of his surroundings… and froze.
No… It wasn't possible… why would he be…?
The doctor's gaze. It had to be. Fennhoff was crazy, but there was no way he would actually bring him all the way out here…
… Right?
Another cold breeze rushed past him, causing more snow to blow into the abandoned facility to add to what he was already lying in. His wide, hazel eyes slowly moved up the snowy hill beside him, passing over the wide metallic grates high above his head…
It's the gas… it's the gas… it's… the…
Something in the corner of the room caught his attention. Something out of place. Tony shakily pushed himself to his knees, gritting his teeth against the pain, and took a moment to catch his breath before he slowly made his way toward it.
The old-fashioned computer monitor remained blank until he got closer. He paused with surprise when the dark screen suddenly flickered to life, revealing a grainy, black and white security video feed.
A cold deeper and more chilling than the snow and harsh wind around him filled his heart.
That road… he knew that road…
Tony swallowed hard, the action hurting his severely dry throat, as he struggled to close his eyes, to turn away, though he was unable to do either. His gaze was fixated to that screen… to that fateful damned road…
He had no need to read the date in the upper right-hand corner. He could recite it in his sleep.
16 December. 1991.
Author's Note: And here we go! There's a lot in here that's going to be important as we continue. What's the tie to Howard? To December 16 1991? To the serum? What's Fennhoff up to? We'll find out! Thanks for reading guys! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you! See you next time!