Bucky and Natasha haul a practically incoherent Clint back to the car. Tony is silent as he starts the vehicle, pulling away from the curb and driving towards the city.
"Where?" Bucky asks.
"Cops."
—
It's a morbid sort of pleasure that the cop they'd talked to before is back on duty.
Tony shoves the phone at him, playing the recording and glaring at the cop. "Do we have enough proof for foul play now?" He seethes.
Clint sits quietly in a hard plastic chair, Natasha sits next to him, holding his hand, and Bucky stands rigidly behind Tony. None of them wanting to actually address the last coherent words Clint had said.
They might have killed him.
The cop listens to the audio a few times and begins writing a report. Tony sends the audio to them and walks over to Clint. "You have to tell him about the brothers. I don't know enough to tell them."
Clint nods numbly and shuffles over to the desk. "You should be searching for Tyler and Ryan Fleming."
The cop looks up in surprise, obviously recognizing those names. "My name is Clint Barton. I was held here for petty thievery with them years ago. Somehow, Brock—" he points to the phone, "figured out that connection and—"
"Wait, wait, what connection?"
"Steve was the one who turned the Fleming brothers in for their robbery of Reynolds Market."
The cops eyes widen and for the first time since they talked to them this morning, he leans in and takes them seriously. "Why didn't you mention this before?"
"We didn't know the brothers were involved. Only when Rumlow—"
"Rumlow?" The cop asks.
"Yeah, Brock Rumlow, that's who is on the recording." Clint points to the phone again and something dawns on the police officer's face.
"Ah, I see."
"What?" Tony hisses.
"We will send out an APB for the brothers." The cop says seriously. "Can't promise anything if they don't squeal. Need solid proof of involvement."
"You're not going to bring Brock in?"
The cop looks at Tony, something like pity on his face, "wouldn't do any good kid. Trust me."
—
It's 4 am and they're asleep in the car. They've been waiting for Howard to get there and they dozed off.
A sharp rap on the window has them startling awake and Tony rolls down the window.
"Hey pops."
"We're going to have a discussion about your disappearing act in the middle of the night without telling your mother and I." Howard says deadly calm, but eyes ablaze. "You're just lucky I have bigger fish to fry." He glares at all of them and then pulls the door open and squishes into the backseat, Natasha slides to the middle and Clint leans his head against the cold glass.
"Fill me in."
—-
Bucky doesn't have time to process that he's sitting in a car with the 3rd richest man on the planet. And that that man is sitting in the backseat with a car full of teenagers.
"So after I threatened the cops he called Clint's name and made a hell of an implication about these brother's that have it out for Steve."
"Not your fault, pal." Howard says, tugging on the side of his mustache. "But it's not great. How, uh, how violent are these kids?"
Clint's eyes flash and the dread rises.
"They we're willing to beat up Steve in broad daylight in an alley, close to a church." Bucky spits out. "So I don't think they're ones for holding back." His voice cracks on the last words and Howard leans his head back.
"Did Brock say anything that could be a hint?"
"No." Tony seethes. "Tight lipped bastard."
—-
They drive the car around slowly, searching the quiet morning streets and asking anyone they see if they've seen Steve. They show his picture and people either shake their heads "no" or ignore them completely.
They check and double check every alley. Calling out his name and scaring all manner of rats and cats and creatures out from behind every crevice.
—
The 24 hour mark passes from when Sam saw him last and the car rides get quieter.
—-
Howard refuses to let them continue. He threatens to call their parents and keep them locked at home if they don't at least sleep or eat something.
They numbly allow themselves to be brought into a diner.
Natasha's asleep on Bucky's shoulder as he leans back, a hot cup of coffee wrapped in his fingers.
Clint sits, leaning on the table, stirring a 6th sugar into his cup.
Tony's sitting next to Howard. Their actions are almost a mirror, as they stare ahead, drink coffee, take bites, and tap at their phones.
—-
"6 hours."
"No way."
"Tony, you guys are going to run yourselves ragged, you need sleep! 6 hours. We will wake you if anything happens."
"Sir," Bucky says miserably, "we can't just sleep knowing he's out here somewhere."
Howard turns a sharp eye on the group. "You can, and you will and you must." His look softens and he tilts his head, "I know it's not the nicest thing for me to say, but think of Steve… He'd hate how miserable you guys are. He'd insist you take care of yourselves."
"Steve's not here, dad!" Tony says, his voice a bit hysterical, "he could be dead in a ditch somewhere for all we know!"
"Tony, shut the hell up!" Bucky snaps, "don't you dare say that! Don't you dare!"
"What!" Tony snaps back, "we're all thinking it!" He shoves a finger a Clint, "ever since doom and gloom here dropped the 'they might have killed him'
Surprise!"
The room goes silent as Howard holds out his hands. "I'm sorry. WHAT."
Oh yeah. They hadn't shared that particular comment with him.
"Explain."
Clint looks miserable as he goes in depth about his own history with the Fleming brothers and how he stopped hanging around them after they went to prison. How he's been avoiding them ever since and they hadn't liked that. Brock informing them that he was close friends with Steve, who was responsible for putting them in jail, meant there was a very high possibility of them taking it all out on Steve. His voice is morose and bitter. Filled with guilt.
Howard's eyes are scrunched closed and his fingers are pressed tightly against his temples. "And you didn't think I should know this?"
"We didn't realize the connection til Brock last night. I guess we were too in our own heads about it to tell you."
"Clint, would these brothers kill?"
He's silent for a moment before he rasps out, "I don't know."
They're all silent.
Finally Howard snaps. "You guys are going to sleep for 3 hours." They open their mouths to protest, "NO." He growls. His attempts to stay positive in light of the situation have vanished. Completely in parent mode. "You are going to sleep and you are not going to fight me. Because you are children too and you need rest. When we find Steve—" his voice gets deep and a bit brittle, "in whatever state we find him in. I'm going to need you guys to be in the right mental state. And sleep deprived teenagers are not it." He points towards Tony's room. "Sleep. 3 hours. I will wake you if I need to. JARVIS will have food when you wake up."
They want to argue, but the look on Howard Stark's face is deadly. They walk dejectedly to his room.
—-
Bucky hopes to be woken up. He hopes Howard will come into the room, shaking them awake with good news.
No such luck.
—
It's been 31 hours since Steve left his house before the police catch up with one of the Fleming brothers.
Bucky feels his phone vibrate as he's stapling more missing posters to a light pole.
T: They got one of the brothers. Station asap
Bucky whistles over to Clint and they take off running.
They burst through the doors of the station and find Natasha and Tony standing off to the side.
"What's going on!' Bucky asks, out of breath, "anything?"
"They just brought him in maybe 30 minutes ago. He won't say where his other brother is. He's lawyered up."
"Doesn't that mean he has to be guilty!?" Bucky asks desperately.
"No." Tony sighs, "it means he's done this before or he has a good coach." A pause where his face darkens. "In this case, it's probably both."
"How long will this take?"
Howard Stark approaches, looking more tired than the rest of them, and Bucky realizes he may have been getting less sleep than them.
"We have to wait for the court appointed lawyer to get here. Either sit and sleep while you wait, or go hang more posters, this could take a while."
The group deflates. Tony slides down onto a chair, leaning his head back and covering his eyes with one hands.
Bucky sinks down into the chair next to him, leaning his elbows on his legs.
Clint doesn't make it to a chair, sinking to the ground and leaning against the chair next to Bucky.
Natasha looks at her phone. "I have to go. My mom's furious, and I have to make sure Yelena's okay." Her voice is tight and her eyes are angry. "You'll text me or call me the minute you guys hear something?"
They nod and she leaves with a sad wave.
—
Jarvis arrives not long later with take-out boxes of food and cold drinks.
"It's quite a toasty one out there right now." He says in a light tone. He walks over to Tony's dad and says something quietly.
"Shit." Tony hears his dad say.
"Quite sir." Jarvis responds, "what can I do to help?"
"Tell Maria that me and Tony probably won't be back today. I've already cancelled my meetings. Can you ask her if she can reach out to Sam and see if he needs help? Or maybe help distracting the kids?"
"Of course, sir."
"Thanks, Jarvis."
Jarvis leaves and Tony watches as his dad scrubs a hand down his face.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"What is it?"
His dad makes his way over slowly and sits in the chair across from him.
"Today's only going to get hotter…" Tony doesn't know where this is going, "and they're saying tomorrow could be a record breaking heat wave."
"And that's…" Tony pauses, unsure if he wants the answer. "Bad?"
"I don't think it's good, Tony." He looks at Clint who is staring at his shoes, hands fidgeting with the laces. "If Steve's out in the elements… could be a problem… Or if he's not getting food or water. Dehydration sets in pretty quick."
Tony grips the edge of his seat, "they say if a kid isn't found after 24 hours—"
"Tony." Bucky snaps. "Please. Shut up."
"What can we do, dad?"
"What you're doing. Putting up posters, searching for him. That's all any of us can do until they get this brother to talk."
—
At 35 hours they're back on the street searching.
—
They manage to catch up to the second brother.
Both brothers refuse to say a single word.
—
Bucky is sitting on his front porch steps. Becca by his side, quietly watching the people who walk past their house. He can't hear it, but he can sense the unease in the house in front of him.
Clint had been called home by his step-mom. At first he'd tried to refuse, but Howard had looked at all of them and said, "Shower. Change, Sleep, Eat. Meet back at the house when you're done."
Well Bucky had showered and changed and eaten a bit. But his stomach was in knots and the food was turning to acid in his stomach. When he closes his eyes he sees the bloody nosed, laughing face of Brock Rumlow. He's given up trying to sleep.
So now he waits.
—-
His step mom and uncle are doing their best to comfort him.
It's not helping.
Clint steps out of the shower and roughly scrubs a towel against his wet hair. He pulls on a shirt that sticks to his still wet skin and athletic pants that will be good for the climbing he's planning on doing on their next section of grid-searching.
He's staring at his room. Kind of messy, but nothing a quick clean wouldn't fix. And his eyes land on the baseball shirt. It's crumbled on top of his laundry pile and he loses it. He grabs the shirt and throws it as hard as he can against the wall. BUt the soft t-shirt doesn't make more than a soft 'fwump' before it slides to the ground.
He grounds out a sound of anger and picks up the next think closest to his hands, a textbook. He chucks that and it hits the wall with a much more satisfying 'thud' before fluttering and thunking to the ground.
He picks up his tennis shoes and chucks them at the bare space of wall, 'thump' 'thump'.
"Clint?"
He turns to find his step mom staring at the items on the ground before looking back up to him. She must see something she doesn't like in his face because the next thing he knows he's being wrapped up in her arms and held tightly.
"It's okay." She says, "It's going to be okay."
"No!" He shouts, gripping at the back of her shirt, feeling his exhaustion and his desperation tip towards hysteria, "No, it's not!" He chokes out a broken breath and feels the emotion constrict his throat painfully, "this is all my fault! All my stupid fault for thinking it was cool to be like them! For hanging out with them when I knew it was wrong. I knew it, Melissa. And I didn't care. I didn't care about anyone but me." He's past thinking about his words now, just clutching at her shirt and pressing his face against her shoulder.
"You can't blame yourself." She finally says quietly. "You are not responsible for their horrible actions."
"If something happens to him." Clint says, voice still muffled into her shirt, "I'll never forgive myself."
"Clint, you can't—-"
"Never."
He can feel her crying too and it makes him cry harder.
—
Tony stares up at the double doors.
He can't bring himself to walk through them.
Walking through them means having to tell Peter and Pietro and Wanda that he still hasn't found Steve. That he's breaking his promise.
He grabs at his hair and stalks off down the street. Not yet ready to face those sad disappointed faces.
—
Sam and Sarah trade off as often as they can between her work, the kids, and trying to be at the police station.
48 hours passes.
—
It's Sunday afternoon and the kids are a wreck.
Sam informs Howard that he can't help search today as he, Sarah, and a few volunteers from the community are taking care of the kids at the house.
"They're not taking Steve's absence well and I have to focus on them." Sam's voice is strained and sad over the phone. "I have to try to make them feel safe…" a heavy pause, "and try to prepare them for the worst possible outcome."
Bucky slams the palms of his hands against his eye sockets to keep from visualizing what the worst possible outcome is.
The image of them dragging Steve's body from the river still finds its way into his mind.
—
Natasha calls and texts constantly. She says she's been searching her neighborhood and has asked Yelena to contact anyone who might remember Steve from his previous school. See if anyone saw anything.
So far, nothing.
—
Howard eventually has to take meetings and do a bit of work. "I'll be back in three hours." He promises.
—
The K 9 units are given items of Steve's to use for his scent.
—
They release the brothers from custody after the allowed amount of time to detain them without any proof.
Tony, Bucky, and Clint watch them leave. Smug grins on their faces.
—
It's Sunday night. The sun is setting and Bucky, Clint, and Tony are searching along the river bank. Further out than they've ever gone.
Their voices are sore and cracked from calling Steve's name.
Bucky stumbles on the pavement over tired feet. Clint's arm snakes out and steadies him and they both stand there, staring at the East River, with blank eyes.
"What are we gunna do if we never find him?" Clint asks, hands wrapped around his torso, clutching at his own sides.
"That's not an option." Bucky says flatly. "We're finding him."
Tony looks out as the late summer sun slips behind buildings. "I just hope we find him and not—" his voice fades out but the intent was clear.
Not his body.
—-
Tony drops Clint and Bucky off at Milo's and tells them he'll be back in a few hours. He's going to go back and search frame by frame every camera he can, hoping for a sight of anything.
Clint and Bucky walk inside the shop. It's closed but his Uncle Ricky knew they were coming and had left it opened for them.
They slide miserably into a booth and both put their heads down on the table.
"No sign?" Another voice asks. Clint looks up to see his Uncle Ricky standing there, hands on his hips and a sad expression on his face.
"No sign."
"What can I do?"
Bucky's hands slide palm up, "what the hell can we do?" He groans, "I don't even know what else to do!"
Clint feels numb. He's felt numb ever since stepping out of the hug from his step mom and he hasn't been able to really feel anything since.
Preparing for the worst.
That's what the adults keep whispering.
"I'd say try to take your mind off of it but I know that's the last thing you want to do."
He sits next to Clint and throws a hand over his shoulder. "We've got everybody on alert out there." He says, "people are searching and praying. We'll find him."
"It's been almost three days." Clint whispers.
"We'll find him."
—
Bucky follows Clint.
He's not sure to where. But Clint seems to be leading him somewhere, and glancing at his phone.
"Weren't we gunna wait for Tony?" Bucky asks.
"I texted him where we're headed."
"Which is…?"
Clint stops, jumping up and grabbing a fire escape, yanking it down and climbing up.
Bucky follows after him and they climb flights until they crawl over onto the rooftop.
"Well, well, well," A voice unfamiliar to Bucky says, "look what the cat threw up."
He straightens, looking over trying to see who it is in the dark before two figures stalk forward.
The Fleming brothers.
Bucky feels himself step forward, fists clenched but Clint grabs his arm. "Don't."
But the don't isn't a 'they're older and bigger and can probably win' don't.
It's a ' not yet, I want to talk to them before we rip them to shreds' don't.
He nods, lowering his fists and stepping back beside Clint.
"Ryan. Tyler."
"Clinton. James." Something about them knowing his first name sets his nerves on edge. How much do these kids know, and how much information had Brock given them?
"Tell us where he is." Clint says flatly. "You tell us, and we will never speak of this again." Bucky whips his eyes to Clint in surprise, but Clint is looking at them, deadly serious, "If you tell us where he is, we won't go to the cops. We don't want any more trouble. We just want to know where he is."
The brothers look at them, and in the glow of the city night lights they look almost. gleeful.
"Who on earth are you talking about Clint?"
"Steve, you bastards!" Bucky shouts, "You know where Steve is!"
"Steve?" One of them says, crossing his arms over her chest, "never heard of her."
This time it's Bucky who grabs Clint.
"Just tell us!" Bucky shouts, his voice desperate, "tell us if we're looking for him alive, or dead."
The brothers both laugh. "Clint, what happened to you, man?" One of the brothers asks, stalking forward and circling them, "you used to be cool. You know what life is like in the city for people like us. You're like us—"
"I'm nothing like you." Clint snarls.
"Oh." The brother looks mock taken aback, "oh ho ho ho, look what we have here! Another Brooklyn boy who got too big for his britches."
Just that. Just that statement makes Bucky's chest constrict.
"What did you DO!" He shouts, jabbing a finger at them, "tell us right now!"
"What is your guys' deal with this kid?" The brother standing further back asks, "who cares? He's just another meaningless orphan. The city is littered with those. Find another piece of trash to love."
Bucky's phone buzzes in his pocket, but he's too busy controlling his temper.
Clint's voice is sharp as he stares back. "You know what, Ryan? I'd believe that if you didn't hunt this kid down. You've been waiting for an opportunity to get back at him since he reported you guys. And guess what! He did the right thing! I haven't ever gotten to say that to your face." Clint straightens and is glaring at them, "Steve did the right thing by turning you both in. You deserved your prison sentence and I'm glad because it gave me the chance to wake the hell up and see how idiotic I was to be hanging around scum like you! You're imbeciles and you'll live and die like the worthless pieces of trash you are!"
If Bucky didn't know Clint, he'd be shocked at the vitriol behind the words, but something about it is calculated.
But the brothers don't know that, and they do not take it well.
Tyler, the one closer to them, lunges forward, slamming a fist against Clint's jaw and knocking him down. Clint scrambles back but his eyes are on Bucky, "look out!" He shouts, but Bucky turns back too late. A fist slams against his cheekbone and rattles his brain.
He stumbles back, trying to remember how to stay standing when another blow comes to his stomach. He doubles over, his breath gone and he's on his knees. A kick to his chest has him sprawling back and he only has enough brain power to glance over at Clint who is taking an equally aggressive beating.
Ryan, the brother currently beating him, raises his foot, to stomp out against Bucky's face when a voice cuts through the air. A welcome voice. Tony's voice.
"Good show, boys."
Bucky blinks and the rooftop is instantly silent. He cranes his neck to see Tony standing at the edge of the roof, his phone held out as if he's recording.
"Assaulting two minors. Good look on your already greasy records."
"You son of bitch." Tyler sneers at Clint. "You set us up."
Clint, eyes are a bit crazed, almost glowing from the city lights, he looks up at him and smiles, teeth bloody. Clint looks hysterically maniacal and it's terrifying if Bucky admits it to himself. "And you played your parts perfectly." Clint says, spitting blood and saliva onto the ground.
"I'm one second away from sending this to my new friend at the police station," Tony says with a glare, "unless you tell us where Steve is."
The brothers stare at them, murderous glares.
"Okay, option C. The silent treatment. Cool. Sending now." Tony holds up his finger to click send and Tyler, the lesser controlled brother takes a halted step forward.
Tony's eyebrow raises and his fingers pause, "yes? Is there something you'd like to say?"
"If we…" he looks back at Ryan who is shaking his head 'no'. He falls silent.
Bucky feels a sense of desperation, they're so close. So close to getting them to break. "We won't tell. We won't tell. We won't say how we got beat up, we won't tell anyone that it was you guys who told us where Steve was—" he chokes and his face throbs from the punches, "please. Please."
"We have no guarantee that you'll keep your word." Ryan spits out.
The air gets electric. Bucky can barely control the fact that he wants to lunge at this kid and slam his face to the ground. They did it. They did it. They have Steve. They hurt him. They did something. They know where he is.
Tony slips his phone into his pocket. "You don't. That's true. But it's either trust us, or… on the off chance you want me, and all my money, and every resource I have, haunting you and your pathetic little lives from today until the end of time." The brothers don't speak, and Tony takes a threatening step forward. Leaning into his act. "You know that assault is a big charge, but you know what's a lifelong sentence? Murder. If we find Steve's body, I can swear to you, that I will do everything in my family's power to make sure you're charged with first degree pre-meditated manslaughter and that, my slimy friends, can still get the death penalty if I try hard enough. Hell, setting you guys up for lifelong solitary confinement could be fun too. Brock's got an uncle in the force. I get that. But you know who my dad's good friends with? Half the judges in New York City. How does Rikers sound, fellas?"
Something about the long-winded, easy-going, but viciously pointed threat is so classically Stark that Bucky blinks and sees Howard there for a minute before he blinks back to Tony.
"He's—"
But Ryan, the colder and more controlled brother grabs his arm and yanks him back.
"Money."
They look at Ryan in disbelief.
"What?"
"Money. You better give us a lot of money. Your word means nothing and I don't trust you."
Bucky's about to shout back but Tony is pulling out his phone. "How much."
"50K."
"Done."
"Tony!" Clint shouts, "you can't pay them! They hurt Steve!" But Tony's face is flat.
"You'll tell us where he is once you get the money, right?"
Ryan nods. "And your promise to keep our names out of it."
Tony doesn't hesitate. "Done."
Both Bucky and Clint try to protest, but Tony glares at them so viciously that they snap their mouths shut.
"Get to the ground."
They all climb down to the street level.
"No one moves." Tony orders before he takes off in his car and it's dead silent for 38 minutes.
Tony comes back, slamming on the brakes and throwing open his door. He yanks a bag and throws it at them. "Count it."
The brothers open the bag filled with stacks of cash. Their eyes widen and they smile. "We believe you."
"Now." Tony says, his eyes on Ryan. "Tell us."
"Steve's a disgrace to Brooklyn and our neighborhood. He betrayed us. He lived like trash and he died like trash." Ryan spits out.
Bucky feels his hand clutch at his chest. No. No. No. no. No. No. no. No no.
He hears Clint try to breathe in air and he's having similar difficulty.
"You better fucking tell me what the hell you mean right now." Tony snarls, voice completely enraged, "you didn't—"
Ryan smiles. A sickeningly prideful and genuinely evil smile. "You wanted to know where he is. I just told you."
"Is this some kind of riddle?" Tony snaps, "becaus—"
"Geez, you guys are idiots." Ryan barks out, "live like trash. Die like trash. Get it?"
"Dumpsters." Clint chokes out. "He's in a dumpster."
Ryan winks and clicks his tongue. "Ah, there's our lookout finally using his brain. Smart cookie there ain't you, Barton." He and Tyler take off and they are left there in silence.
Tony's gripping his phone so hard Bucky swears he can hear it cracking. Or is that his ribs? His skull? Everything feels fuzzy. Unreal. this isn't real. Can't be real.
Dream. It's a dream. He's dreaming.
Then he looks over at Clint.
Who is vomiting.
Clutching at his chest and vomiting.
Not a dream.
A living nightmare.
The nightmare that Steve is dead somewhere in a dumpster.
—
*A/N — How we doin out there tonight? I swear I don't enjoy torturing y'all. It just happens.