Chapter 16: Lullaby
Clint stood against the wall with Natasha as Bruce, Thor, and Steve got Barnes situated on the imaging table.
"This is the last of it, except for a bit I'm saving to analyze," Bruce said, setting the empty sedative vial on a tray table in the lab. "His metabolism burned through six of these during the trip, even just out of cryo. We better move fast."
The Avengers—all except Tony, who was in his lab sifting through the items recovered from the bunker—were clustered in the imaging and med center set up next to Bruce's lab. Barnes was wearing a pair of gray cotton pajama bottoms, IV still inserted and dripping fluids into his veins, while the CT scanner above his head hummed to life.
The scars on Barnes' chest where the metal met flesh were nasty. How long had he had that arm? It was a masterpiece of technology, but Clint couldn't help wonder what butchering the Hydra surgeons did to Barnes' insides to get it anchored and working.
He pushed those grim thoughts out of his head and focused on the solid feeling of the wall against his back. With Loki and the Tesseract still missing, he half-expected the Asgardian to materialize in any empty spaces behind him. He scratched the tingly feeling on the back of his neck as he studied Barnes.
Being mind-fucked sucked.
Natasha's arm brushed his, and he glanced over at her, forcing a weak smile. She didn't say anything, but he could see it on her face. Tilting closer to her, lips near her ear, he whispered. "I'm fine."
"Liar," she whispered back. "You should head back home. Take some downtime."
He missed Laura and the kids terribly, but there was still a job to do, and until he managed to sleep through the night a few times without waking up in a cold sweat, he wanted to stay in New York. Going home would just worry Laura and give her as many sleepless nights as he was having.
Besides, Bucky Barnes was alive, mere feet away, getting every inch of his body scanned, and no way was Clint bailing now. If there was anything left of Steve's old friend, Clint sure as hell wanted to meet him. Some of the stories were legendary.
He leaned toward Nat again. "You know in the war, Barnes was in a sniper duel where he fired a shot that went straight through the enemy sniper's scope and then his eye, from two thousand yards away."
Natasha's cheeks lacked their usual pink hue as she stared at Barnes. She shifted on her feet, crossing her arms and wrapping her hands around her biceps.
Shit. He was so self-absorbed, he hadn't noticed before. "Hey," he jostled her with his elbow. "Sorry. Bad shop talk. I forgot for a second."
Her brows meshed together and she shrugged. "Don't be sorry. It's just weird being so close to him, seeing the Winter Soldier like this. If he was that good of a shot before the enhancements, that explains a lot. The shot he made through me…." she sucked in a breath and shook her head. "It was one hell of a shot." She looked at Clint with that soft tilt of her head she always did. "I wasn't even certain he was real until I got the file. I never knew for sure who that was in Odessa. I just suspected, and word got around that it was the infamous Russian assassin."
"Only he's not Russian." Hydra assholes. "He's been a POW this entire time." How messed up was that? Cap's best friend turned to serve Hydra in secret for nearly seventy years.
Barnes groaned. Natasha tensed, on guard, and Clint put a hand on her back as he looked back to the table. Barnes' was out of the CT scanner, making a pathetic attempt to roll off the table as Steve and Thor held him in place.
"We better get him to the room Tony set up," Bruce said. "Now, before he burns through whatever's left of the sedative in his system."
They wheeled him next door to a windowless room Tony had prepared—in record time, apparently. It was spacious, with a solid hospital bed in the center sporting a thick, metal frame. Definitely not something available at any of the standard hospital supply places. Four metal clamps and leather straps were attached to the frame, giving the bed a sinister vibe and reminding everyone that its patient was no garden-variety guy, not that they really needed a reminder.
Steve's jaw clenched, a muscle twisting like a tight wire along the side of his neck as he and Bruce rolled Bucky toward the reinforced bed. Thor took up the rear, keeping a respectful distance, but poised to render assistance if necessary.
The windowless room was comfortably furnished, with a couple of armchairs, a basic kitchenette, a bathroom, and a Queen-sized mattress with plush bedding. Two monitors sat near the exam table, along with a small tray table. Steve and Bruce transferred Bucky to the bed, and the jostling roused him further.
The sedative was obviously wearing off. His eyes were more alert, studying the room, the faces, calculating. Clint got the sense of a cat poised to strike, motionless while it stalked and evaluated its prey, ready to pounce at the right time.
Bruce placed his hands on Barnes' metal arm and moved it toward the restraint. In an instant, Barnes was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, back straight, shoulders squared, gaze sharp.
"Okay…." Banner stumbled a few steps away in surprise. "Hey there, um," he glanced at Steve. "It's worn off."
Steve stood in front of Barnes, straight, unafraid, blue eyes locked with blue. "Bucky. Do you recognize me?"
A tiny crease formed in Barnes' brow as he studied Steve's face, and for a moment, Clint thought he saw something flicker in that steely gaze, but whatever it was vanished, replaced by a cold mask of indifference, and Barnes shifted his gaze to stare at the far wall.
Natasha was hovering near the door when she walked up to stand a few feet behind Steve, strategically positioned out of Barnes' immediate reach. "Gotov podchinit'sya, soldat?"
Barnes' head jerked toward her, eyes going narrow, jaw clenching. The plates in his left arm shifted with a metallic whir. Clint's Russian was barely passable, but he understood the words 'comply' and 'soldier.' Barnes' reaction made it pretty clear he wasn't in a complying mood.
Natasha swallowed and sighed. "It was worth a try. The book says there's a protocol required to control him after he's removed from cryo. While he's still disoriented, they'd place him in the chair that was in the center of the cryo room, perform a fresh wipe of his memories, and then speak a string of ten words in a specific order that would put him into a state of compliance."
She pulled the book from her back pocket. Bucky stared at the red cover. His metal hand clenched and his breathing picked up, chest heaving with quick, deep breaths.
Easy, Nat. Clint took a step forward. Barnes may not feel very chatty, but Clint got the impression he understood everything that was being said. It was also very obvious that Barnes knew the book well…knew what happened when it was held in someone's hands.
Natasha took a few steps to the side and faced Steve, drawing the Captain's attention.
"The words are right here. If I say them, he becomes a lot easier to control, according to this," she raised the book.
"No!" Steve held his palm out.
"You sure, Rogers?"
"Yes. Give it to me, Romanoff."
With a sigh, she handed it to him. Steve tucked the book in the back waistband of his pants and looked at Bucky. "No one here is going to hurt you or take control of your mind unless you try to hurt someone. Do you understand?"
Barnes' gaze drifted with precision around the room, stopping at each person, taking in the workstation, the monitors, and hovering a moment on Clint.
Look non-threatening, Clint told himself, slouching his shoulders and doing his best to keep his face neutral. The situation had to be confusing for Barnes—pulled out of deep freeze, sedated, transported to a new place, and if his memory was completely wiped, then he really had no idea who Steve was. Did he know who Hydra was? Hell, did he even know who he was? Did each defrost and memory wipe turn him into a blank slate, or did he retain some basic memories?
It wouldn't make sense to have an assassin who forgot all his training before every mission, so Clint figured Barnes had to retain basic skills—muscle memory, language, a familiarity with weapons, and other tactical knowledge an assassin would need in the field. They'd need to keep their guards up.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," Steve said.
There! A flinch at the edges of Barnes' eyes. That name made a tiny dent. Clint suppressed a smile. Maybe Barnes was still in there somewhere.
Steve obviously noticed it, too, because he pressed on quickly. "You know me, Buck."
Barnes' expression shiftly subtly. He glanced down, his brow furrowed, but when he looked back up, the stoic mask slipped into place and his gaze solidified into something cold and hard. "Nyet."
A word. Clint caught Natasha's glance. This was progress at least.
"You've known me your whole life, Bucky," Steve countered, a note of desperation in his voice. "I'm your friend. Do you remember who you are?"
A computer beeped near one of the monitors. Bruce studied it and took a deep breath, then cast a grim look at Steve. "The scan images have finished processing."
Barnes was like a statue on the bed, but his lips moved a fraction when he spoke. "Heil Hydra."
Devastation rolled off of Steve in the slump of his shoulders and the shimmer in his eyes. "No, Bucky. We're not Hydra."
Clint winced. The misery on Cap's face made it clear those words coming from those lips hit like a knife to the gut.
Without so much as tensing, Barnes was suddenly in motion, right arm whipping upward, fist connecting with Steve's left cheek hard enough to send him stumbling back a couple of feet. He launched off the bed and tackled Steve, sending them both crashing to the floor with Barnes on top. He was about to land another punch when Thor grabbed him from behind and yanked him off.
Then it was pandemonium. Barnes spun to face the new threat, wobbling slightly from the residual effects of the drugs, while Clint and Natasha covered the exit. Clint got his stun arrow ready, pulled back in the bow, aimed. He didn't want to use it if he didn't have to, and he wasn't sure how severely the wallop would disable Barnes, but it would slow him down, at least.
"I do not wish to harm you," Thor said.
Steve was already on his feet. Buck shifted away from both men, metal arm raised, though he was obviously still favoring that shoulder, and backed up to the worktable.
"Bucky," Steve held his hands out, "we're not gonna hurt you, but if you try to harm yourself or any of us, we'll restrain you."
Barnes' hand moved toward the edge of the table.
Shit. Clint realized Barnes was about to use the furniture as a projectile. He released the arrow. Its aim was true, but it never landed. Barnes reached across with his right hand and caught the arrow in mid-air, snapping it in two.
Holy shit. The dude had reflexes like Loki. Noted. He couldn't very well use an exploding arrow on Barnes. That would defeat the purpose of the rescue mission.
Thor and Steve moved in unison, converging on Bucky, while Bruce stayed out of the fray. It became a sparring match between the three, with Bucky throwing punches and kicks, some of which landed, and others that missed, while Steve and Thor did their best to evade, sometimes throwing their own strikes. When they did land hits, Clint could tell both men were pulling their punches.
Thor didn't even try to use the lightning from his hammer. One hit from that would probably knock Barnes out cold, if not kill him. Unlike Steve, Barnes didn't have a shield to protect him. But, Jesus, Barnes was fast, and he was giving both men a run for their money—impressive considering the drugs Bruce had given him. Barnes' adrenaline had obviously obliterated any lingering sedation.
Steve took a nasty hit to his left cheek from the metal fist, followed by a round kick that sent him into the wall.
And…there went the table, sailing across the room, causing Steve to roll out of the way as he slid to the floor. It crashed where Steve's head had been a moment before and broke into pieces, creating a dent in the plaster and revealing the metal sheeting behind.
Natasha was in motion, leaping into the air and swinging her legs around Barnes' neck. He reached up with his right hand and yanked her forward, throwing her into the hospital table. Her back hit the edge of the frame, and she gave a strangled yelp as she crumpled to the floor.
Crap! Clint hurried forward, dropping to her side. That was one hell of a nasty landing. She was breathing heavily, hand on her back, but nodded at him that she was alright. He doubted that. The CT scanner would be getting a workout out if this fight didn't end soon. Clint reached into his pack for an arrow that would pack a bigger punch, even if Barnes caught it, but Thor was quicker on the draw.
Mjölnir sailed through the air. Barnes caught it—or tried to—but it took him off his feet. The expression on his face as it flung him through the air was almost comical—if the situation was at all remotely funny.
Which it wasn't.
Barnes hit the wall as Thor recalled the hammer. He crumpled into a heap of limbs and hair. Steve reacted, taking the opportunity to tackle Barnes from behind, then the two men were on the ground in a wrestling match. Steve wrapped his legs around Barnes' torso, pinning the metal arm, and hooking his right arm around Barnes' flesh one. Steve's left arm pinned Bucky's chest, holding him tight. Thor secured the legs, and together, the two men held firm as Barnes bucked and flailed against them.
Barnes screamed, his expression all rage and frustration for a few seconds, but then something shifted, snapped into place, and the look in his eyes was wild, primal. His growl of a scream turned into something high-pitched and frantic.
It wasn't quite terror Clint sensed, and then it hit him, and he had to look away, just for a moment, catching Nat's eye as he helped her to her feet. She knew. Of course she did. She would know, better than anyone.
The screams were desperation, laced with fear and denial, rage giving way to anguish.
When Clint looked back, Steve's face revealed he heard it too, and it was tearing a hole right through him. God, this was torture to witness. Clint wanted to leave, wished he could be anywhere else, but he wouldn't abandon Steve or Barnes now. It looked like Thor and Steve were in control, but in case things went south, an extra set of hands might come in handy. Or an arrow, even if it was only a distraction.
Banner remained near the monitors, calm, looking uncomfortable, but obviously focusing on his breathing and keeping the Green Guy in check.
"Bucky!" Steve pleaded, yelling over Barnes' screams. "Bucky, please….no one's going to hurt you."
Barnes wasn't listening, seemed incapable of responding, as he screamed, twisting and bucking against Steve and Thor, his head tilted back against Steve, straining, metal plates opening and closing in a frantic symphony of defiance.
Then Steve started singing. Low at first, and Clint wasn't even sure he was actually hearing things correctly, but the words got louder, and even though Steve was slightly breathless, his voice never wavered.
"When you're sad and blue,
Don't know what to do.
Close your eyes a while.
Make believe and smile"
It was a lullaby, ridiculously out of place in the situation, silly in tenor and lyrics, but, hell…it was working.
Barnes' struggles weakened, and his screams faded. His eyes fixed on a point far away, everything about him was suddenly different, as if a switch had been flipped. The hard gaze was gone, replaced by something that looked lost and…almost…child-like. His chest heaved beneath Steve's hold, but he no longer resisted.
Steve's singing grew softer, gentler.
"When things all go wrong,
Just think of this song.
Give sorrow a reprieve.
Let your mind make believe."
"I don't believe it," Natasha whispered.
Clint nodded. He wasn't sure he believed it either, but it was obvious the song had meaning, and Barnes remembered it, or at least some part of him did.
Steve finished the song, and there was silence for a moment, then he said, "Bucky, you know me. We grew up together. Your mother taught that song to my mom…I'm going to count to three and release you. As long as you don't try to hurt anybody or leave this room, no one will touch you. No one will hurt you. Okay?"
Barnes didn't respond, but his breathing settled, and he gave no further resistance.
Taking in a deep breath, Steve eyed Thor and counted. "One…two…three."
The two men released Barnes, and he exploded into motion, but Clint realized even before he reached the arrow in his quiver that it wasn't an attack. Barnes scurried backward, wedged himself into the corner where the table used to be, and curled in on himself. He shifted onto his right side against the wall, obviously still hurting from his injuries—the ones that none of them had spoken much about, because hell that just wasn't something any of them were ready to mention unless absolutely necessary—and pulled his knees up. His head lolled forward, and he peered at them through long, dark strands of hair, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
Thor retreated to give the two men space and took position next to Banner. Steve shifted to sit cross legged ten feet away from Barnes. Clint figured that was intentional—casual, nonthreatening, telegraphing that he wouldn't make any sudden moves.
The soft thud of footsteps came from outside the room, and Clint quietly opened the door, peeking his head out to see Tony headed their way with a black duffel bag in his hand. Clint put a finger to his lips. Barnes was calm for the moment, and the last thing he needed was a surprise visitor.
Tony cocked his head and nodded, stopping just outside the door. "Are we supposed to be whispering?" he asked quietly. "Is Bucky boy asleep?"
Clint shifted into the hallway and eased the door closed. "No. The table's no longer in one piece, but things are settled down for the moment. I'm just not sure how he'd react to someone else coming in. He's on a hair trigger, but Steve managed to get through to him—a little at least."
"Okay, I know when I'm not wanted, but tell Bruce to come to my lab when he has a second. "I found a remote in one of the boxes and traced the passive signal to this room, so I'm guessing it's linked to Barnes. I didn't press the buttons because my guess is, Buckaroo has implants, and pressing the wrong button could lead to a big sad for Capsickle. It's a paperweight now. I'll be increasing the shielding on this floor in case anyone from the outside tries to send a signal."
The fuckers put in a kill switch? Well, Hydra got shittier and shittier the more he learned about them. "Got it."
Tony handed Clint the bag. "Barnes' gear, freshened up and scanned for anything icky. It's all clean." Stark headed back to his lab and Clint eased quietly back into the room. Barnes' eyes went immediately to the black bag.
Clint set the duffel on the floor near the counter. "Tony found a remote in a box, disabled it," he said, talking loud enough that everyone could hear him. This concerned Barnes, and the guy had a right to know more than anyone, if he didn't already. "It was paired to something coming from this room, which means Barnes probably has something implanted."
"One of those satellite tracker things?" Steve asked. "I thought Tony took care of that?"
"He did." Clint said.
"A failsafe," Natasha offered.
"A killswitch. A few…implants showed up in the scan," Bruce walked up slowly and took the device. "And, yeah, that's…terrible."
"You mean they could have killed him back in the bunker?" Steve's fist clenched in his lap, and he looked at Barnes, who followed the conversation silently, hair still dangling in his face, eyes darting between them.
"If they'd gotten to it," Natasha said. "Fortunately, they were too busy fighting us."
Bruce raised the device. "At least it's harmless now. We'll figure out the implant situation later. Oh, and, uh," he swallowed and glanced at the monitors near the bed, "we should go over the scan results soon."
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I've mentioned implants in my Unmaking the Winter Soldier story. I consider it pseudo-canon based on the scene in Captain America: The Winter Soldier when Bucky is in the chair. The monitors near him show a readout of markers on his body, but he isn't hooked up to anything except an IV (e.g., no EKG). I can only guess what they represent, but I figure it reasonable to conclude they are sensors and/or at least one fail-safe. I'd love to hear YOUR thoughts!