Chapter 20
The next three days are peaceful. Bruce and Tony all but disappear back into the lab, which isn't unusual, and Bucky and Clint both leave on errands they somehow manage not divulge. Thor leaves as well, off to see Jane, so its mostly just Steve and Natasha, Pepper having gone to Los Angeles on business earlier.
Natasha chases Steve around the gym. She loves how he howls with laughter when she catches him and swings him up in the air. He's so light that sometimes she's afraid she'll accidently throw him too far, but he always lands safely back in her arms before wiggling free to do it again.
She panics though when his throat closes up during lunch, face going red, then purple, tongue swelling up so rapidly it seems to happen between one blink and the next. Swearing, she scoops him up, barreling into the bathroom. She rips the drawer holding the hypos clean out, scattering the multicolored things everywhere.
Orange, she thinks, as Steve shakes in her arms. The orange one is for allergies. What the hell had she given him? Steve wheezes. Her hand shakes as it closes on the orange hypo and plunges it into his neck. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she chants. She keeps her hand on Steve's neck. His pulse pounds beneath her fingertips. "It's okay, it's okay."
They're both crying without making a sound when Bruce and Tony come barreling in moments later. Bruce gently pries Steve loose. He has a penlight and a stethoscope; his voice is calm as he asks Natasha what happened.
"I don't know," she says. "We were having lunch…"
"What were you having?" Bruce flashes the light at Steve's eyes. He moans, tries to move his head away, but he's weak and Bruce easily keeps him in place.
"Grilled cheese." She takes a breath. "Same as the other day."
"What about the bread?"
"The bread?" Natasha blinks. What did bread have to do with…she moans. The bread. They'd been out of the white bread Steve likes so she'd used some of the whole grain bread. The whole grain bread that most likely had nuts.
"Oh, Steve." Natasha's hands start shaking again as she closes them around Steve's. "I'm so sorry."
"It's…okay," Steve tries to smile, but his chest hitches and he starts to cough. Tony, who had left without Natasha noticing, returns with a glass of water, which he hands Steve, helping him hold the glass as the boy shakes.
"I should have checked," Natasha says.
"It doesn't matter," Steve's voice is stronger now, his grip firmer. "I'm fine." It's not totally the truth, but it's not a lie either.
Bruce takes Steve off to bed while Natasha fixes the bathroom. Tony stands in the doorway, tapping the empty hypo against his palm, a troubled look on is face. "We should really keep some of these in the kitchen," he says. "Keep 'em closer for emergencies. J? Make a note okay? Check all food labels for nuts of any kind and let us know before we feed 'em to Rogers."
"Of course, sir," says Jarvis. "A reminder, sir: your guests will be arriving in two hours. Should I screen the food to be brought by the caterers?"
They'd decided to let Steve come to the celebration. Not for very long, but hopefully there'd be enough people there that no one would question too much who Steve belonged too. And if they did the old babysitting stand-by would have to do the trick.
"Yeah," says Tony. "Make sure he doesn't eat anything he shouldn't, okay, buddy?"
"Anything to keep Master Rogers safe," says Jarvis solemnly.
"Good man," Tony smiles at Natasha. "Now, wipe those tears off, we've got a party to get ready for."
It's not exactly a rallying cry, but Natasha can't help the quirk her lips give as she brushes by him to obey.
A*A*A
The party is much bigger than Steve thought it would be. People, most of whom Steve's never met, laugh and talk and drink, filling up the large living space, bringing it to life in a way that it never quite does when it's just the Avengers. Bucky had cried off, not yet willing to risk the world finding out that the Winter Solider and Bucky Barnes are alive and free in New York City. Steve's spends most of the night camped out under the piano with his bear, a blanket, several pillows, drawing supplies, and a sippy cup of apple juice which is constantly being refilled as one by one the team crawls underneath to check on him.
He's working on a drawing of Thor chatting with Tony and Maria, head on his fist. He's half asleep, but warm and cozy and not inclined to move. His eyes drift closed, head dipping. The smell of crayon lulls him off and he's unaware of the party winding down, of the music softening, of Tony snapping several pictures of them, before the core Avengers gather around.
"It's a trick," Clint says. The drum sticks swirl through his fingers. "Worthy my ass."
"You are welcome to try and lift it," says Thor.
Steve would have laughed at Clint's expression if he could have seen it. As it is, he misses Clint's attempt. And then Tony's multiple tries. Bruce's yell when he can't lift it trickles in slightly, but not enough to pull him from his dream.
In his dream he's sitting in Central Park. The sky is blue and the air warm. Peggy sits besides him, young, beautiful, a smile on her red, red lips. Bucky runs back and forth whooping and hollering as he tries to get a kite aloft. It's serene and perfect and the sudden, terrible screech that breaks through it jolts Steve awake with an angry groan. Fists dig into his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I was asleep," says a voice. The voice sounds real, with just the barest hint that there's something inhuman about the speaker. Something electronic that burrows under Steve's skin more effectively than the terrible sound that woke him.
"Who sent you?" asks someone. Natasha, Steve thinks. "What do you want?"
Tony's voice answers: "Peace in our time," his voice says with the graininess of a recording.
Bruce sucks in a breath. "Ultron," he says and Steve goes cold, the numbness racing down to his toes.
Ultron?
"In the flesh," Ultron says and now Steve can see him. He's made up of broken pieces of various robots, dripping oil onto the floor.
"All of you," says Ultron. "Like puppets on strings. I think it's time you learned. Your time is over."
That's all the warning they get. The Iron Legion crashes through the wall behind Ultron and chaos engulfs the room, taking the breath from Steve. He scrambles back, grabbing the bear as he goes and then runs for the stairs. There's no real thought motivating his flight; only the knowledge that he needs to get out of here.
Not seconds after he bolts, the piano goes flying, smashing into the stairway less than a foot from Steve. The force of it sends him spinning. He loses his grip on the bear. There's not time to get it. No time for anything as one of the Iron Legion robots grabs him by the back of the shirt, lifting him clean into the air. Tony yells something, but Steve can't hear him over the wheezing breaths coming from his throat. It's not panic tightening his airways, but the knowledge that whatever is about to happen, Steve can't do anything to stop it.
"Hello, Steven," says the bot and it's Ultron's voice talking. Ultron who somehow manages to twist the metal face into a mockery of a smile. Then before Steve can formulate any semblance of a response, the bot is in motion. The room disappears, glass crashing by them in a blur. Something impacts with Steve's head and everything cuts out.
If he'd been aware, he would have heard Natasha's gun, seen Clint throw Steve's shield at one of the bots and Thor smash it through the bot with his hammer. He would have seen Tony desperately jump on the back of another bot and rip its circuitry apart with a fondue fork. He would have seen Thor destroy the last Ultron bot with his hammer and the group staring at each other is confusion, anger, and fear.
But he wasn't there to see any of these things.
The next thing he's aware of is a young woman leaning over him. She's speaking to someone in a language Steve doesn't know. It sounds faintly Russian and as he wakes Steve realizes that he does indeed know a few words. But they are spotty and he blinks at her uncertainly. Is this a dream? He must ask it aloud for she turns back to him. She has eyes that he thinks are blue, but there's a darkness in them that makes them seem almost black.
"Shh," she says. "It's alright. You are safe."
He is? Was he ever unsafe? He looks around, seeing stone walls and not much else. The young man she'd been talking to has hair that is streaked with white. As if he'd once had hair as dark as the girl, but someone had shocked him, turning most of it white.
"Who are you?" Steve asks. "Where am I?"
"My name is Wanda," she doesn't smile when she says this. "This is my brother, Pietro."
Pietro says something again in that language Steve doesn't understand. Her lips tighten further. Her answer is harsh and Pietro turns away, arms crossing over his chest.
Siblings, Steve thinks. They have to be. Talking to each other like this.
Wanda tries again, her eyes almost hypnotic in their intensity. "You are not a child," she says. "I can see your thoughts. No child has such thoughts."
A mind reader? Steve tenses. He's never met one, but if witches existed…
There's no reason to lie. Steve nods. "I haven't been a child in awhile," he tells them. His voice comes out hoarse and tired. "A witch cursed me, but don't worry: it'll wear off in a month."
"Really?" she looks intrigued. "How old are you truly?"
That's not the simple question it should be. Counting his years in the ice he should be about to celebrate his 93rd birthday. Not counting the years in the ice he's about to turn 26.
"25," he says. "I'm supposed to be 26 in July."
The look she gives him makes him think that she knows that's not the entire truth, but she doesn't push. Instead, she leans over him. "Tell me, Steven," she hisses, "why you work for Tony Stark." Steve inhales roughly, a million comments barreling into and out of his head in the span of a second.
"I don't work for Tony," he says. "We're team mates. Avengers."
"Avengers," Pietro scoffs. "You say that like it's a good thing."
"It is," Steve frowns. "We help people."
"Really?" Pietro says. "Tell that to our parents. Tell that to all the people that died because of Tony Stark."
"I don't…" Steve falters. "I know we've made some mistakes," he says in a small voice. It feels like his lungs are seizing. Slowly icing over. "But we've put protocols in place to warn civilians. To get them out of harms way. I swear if there's a way to get people out safely, we take it."
"How sweet," says a new voice. "And how… naïve."
A figure walks out of the darkness and Steve can't tell if it had always been there or if it had simply materialized like a phantom. It's in the shape of a man. Made of gleaming metal, the lines flowing in a way that's almost organic. Red eyes burn over a cruel mouth. Steve might not recognize the form, but he knows that voice. "Ultron," Steve struggles to his feet. "What did you do to the others? Are they okay?"
Ultron towers over Steve, but Steve is too angry to be scared. He sees Wanda glance at Pietro, reaching for his hand even as Ultron laughs like Steve's amused him. "Oh, you are much more fun in person, Steven," Ultron chuckles. "So much spunk!" He shakes his head. "Your 'friends' are alive," he says. "For now."
"Why did you attack us?" Steve asks. "We want the same thing."
"And what is that?" Ultron asks.
Steve hesitates. Is this a trick? Ultron sounds amused. Like he knows something Steve doesn't. "Peace," Steve says. The end of the word tilts upward, making it sound like a question.
Wanda laughs. "You know nothing about peace," she spits. "All your Stark cares about is power. Power through bombs and guns and pain."
"That's not true!" Steve says. "Tony's a good man. He doesn't build things to hurt people anymore!"
"He built me, didn't he?" Ultron smiles. Steve wishes he hadn't. As if he senses Steve's fear, Ultron's smile vanishes. He nods to Pietro and Wanda. "I believe we have some business to attend to. Shall we?"
He motions for them to follow. Pietro grabs Steve and panic has him flaying, struggling to wriggle free. Something flashes in Wanda's eyes and she reaches for him, taking Steve from Pietro and settling him on her hip. Steve regards her with wide eyes, but she says nothing. Simply follows Ultron onto the jet he stole from somewhere.
Steve wishes he was big. Wishes he could fight. But the Infinity stones are back in the tower with Tony and Bruce and Natasha. With Thor and Clint and his shield. A lump rises in his throat, but Steve refuses to cry. He isn't a baby. He isn't.
Even though no one looking at him now would know it.
