Hey guys! Have some more adorable angst! (Is that an oxymoron?)

And HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Are you thankful for authors updating their fics? I know I'm thankful for reviews. :D *hint hint*

Chapter Twenty Five - Winter, Part Four

Tony was staring at the arm he made when Elle left Bucky's room.

"How are you doing?" she asked softly, coming up beside him.

Instead, he looked at her and asked, "How can you like me?"

"Oh, honey," Elle said, pulling him into a hug. He wasn't quite sure why there was hugging, but he wasn't going to turn this down.

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" she asked as she pulled out of the embrace.

Tony looked back at the arm he'd been building. "I wanted to kill him."

Elle sighed and smushed herself up against him. "That's why I told you ahead of time. There's nothing wrong with wanting to avenge your parents. You just didn't know how to target that feeling. But you know it's not Bucky's fault now."

"I'm starting to understand why you treat him a bit like a puppy," Tony said.

"Right?" She asked ecstatically. "He's like my child."

Tony felt his lips twitching and he let himself smile. "Are you just going to adopt all of us?"

"If that's what it takes," Elle said, patting his side and pulling out. "Come on, we should eat some food."

"And you're okay with leaving him alone?" Tony asked as he started going up the stairs.

"Yeah," Elle said, following him. Tony appreciated her walking with him instead of just teleporting. "I told him I'd get a bite to eat and to make him food. He knows to call me if something goes wrong, he remembers something, or he wants me there. So I left him to play Solitaire, like all old men."

Tony snorted. He remembered when he'd visit the other Commandoes as a child, with most of them playing card games as they ate, especially when they were all visiting one another. If only one of them was up, they'd play Solitaire. Uncle Jacque was the one who taught him how to play when he was around three.

Tony and Elle crossed the barrier that Elle had put down at the foot of the stairs, so the cats wouldn't go into the workshop. The cats were all waiting for them, meowing loudly as they followed the two of them to the counter.

"Greedy," Elle said fondly as she took out a can of wet food and split it up for them, using her magic to lower the bowls in a spread out manner.

Tony got out leftover spaghetti. "You want some?" he offered.

Elle shrugged. "Sure."

"So…" Tony drifted off. Elle stopped moving and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. "What was that bit earlier?"

"My fault," Elle admitted, sighing. "But once it was done and he actually initiated a hug, he seemed a bit more at peace. I'm not surprised – he was probably on edge since he got here, especially after we were so nice."

"I can understand that," Tony muttered. "Anything good comes with consequences."

Elle gave him a hug again. "Try to get out of that mindset, alright?"

Tony grumbled, before asking, "Are you really okay?"

She shrugged. "I might have some bruises from where he hugged me really hard, but they'll probably be gone in an hour."

"An hour?" Tony asked incredulously, looking up from the food he was preparing.

She shrugged again, extremely nonchalant. "I told you Tony, we Fairies are a lot more durable. The bruise I got from climbing through those vents at Hydra? It was gone by the time I returned to New York."

"Not fair," Tony muttered.

"It was a Shonen anime," Elle said, dryly. "Our fighting abilities aren't usually described as realistic. And it's not like yours are either, this is a comic book world. You probably shouldn't even be able to move with that lunk of metal in your chest."

His eyes narrowed. "Touché."

Sometimes, he really wished he could've visited her old world.

Elle was searching through her cards to find something to watch, and Tony watched her, thinking.

"You really like me?" he asked.

Oh. He hadn't meant to do that.

Elle stopped and turned to him. "Yes."

"…why?"

She sighed, and Tony wanted to take it back. "You know what, forget-"

"Sit down," Elle said as he had started to rise.

Tony stared at her a bit before he finally sat down.

"Tony, you have quite possibly one of the largest hearts of anyone I've met," she said, meeting his gaze. "You remember that this is a fictional universe, right?"

He nodded.

"Have you gotten into the mindset of that yet?" she continued.

"Not quite sure what you're aiming for here," he tried to say casually.

"The reasons why you're still alive, health wise," she started gesturing to the arc reactor, "is because of suspension of disbelief. But since this was created from a fictional point of view, you might want to take a closer look at symbolism."

Tony was quiet, waiting for her to finish.

"Obadiah betrayed you by literally ripping out your heart. And since he was a parental figure to you, that's what it probably felt like emotionally."

"You're saying…the arc reactor is representative of my feelings?" Tony asked, a bit incredulously.

"It shows the truth, Tony. You love too much. With all your heart, you go above and beyond to make the people you care about safe. You pick people and you throw yourself behind them, which is why it hurts when they do the same thing as Obadiah. You get attached ridiculously easily, and love to a ridiculous extent. It shows your glaring weakness – as smart as you might be, you care too much. Which is why you wanted to kill Bucky until you calmed down and straightened everything out."

He stared at her. When she put it like that, he kinda got it.

"Plus," Elle finished. "You're a man who runs around in a metal suit."

"So?" Tony asked, not getting the non-sequitur.

"Is it Iron, or is it Tin?" Elle asked. She saw it click in his mind and nodded, before returning to her cards and queuing something up.

The Tin Man who wanted a heart, Tony thought.

But if he remembered the movie correctly, then the Tin Man had had a heart all along.

"But I didn't care before Afghanistan," Tony blurted out. "So, I can't be the Tin Man."

"No, I don't think so," Elle said softly. "I think you cared too much. And then Howard was a dick and Jarvis died and there was the Accident and it hurt so much you decided you didn't want to feel anything anymore. So you threw yourself into booze and drugs and gambling and sex. Because you felt numb and wanted to feel something other than the pain."

Tony stared at her before he slid into the seat next to her.

What she had said was…surprisingly accurate. To be fair, he had also thrown himself into sex and booze and other dalliances before his parents died – because by then he'd realized that Howard would never be proud of him, and at least this way he might be mad enough at Tony to talk to him. Negative attention was better than no attention at all. Granted, that shift might have also had something to do with Jarvis dying, and his wife Ana dying a few weeks later of a broken heart.

And then there had been Sunset, and Ty. He'd loved both of them, and they were only with him SI secrets. After they both practically stabbed him in the back, he'd sworn himself off of a real relationship, and never did anything more than fall into bed with someone.

Maybe Pepper could be an exception, though.

Tony eyed Elle, wondering if he should be as scared as he was to ask her about his and Pepper's future relationship.

Maybe another time.

Elle was right about one thing, though; the arc reactor was a glaring weakness. But maybe he could configure some sort of backup…

Tony and I camped out in the fort watching my guilty pleasure anime (Ouran High School Host Club) which Tony eventually liked after adjusting to the format. The cats joined us after they finished their food and I made sandwiches for me and Tony once we finished the leftover spaghetti.

"These people are insane," Tony muttered as we watched.

I shrugged. "I dunno, it seems kinda similar to the guild."

He looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

I looked back at the screen. "Well…minus the flirting. Maybe. But the crazy spirit is the same."

"Great," Tony muttered. But he was still smiling.

I smiled back at him before straightening up immediately.

"Elle?" Tony asked.

"JARVIS, did he hit the button?" I asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Dreyar," JARVIS said.

"Got it. I'll be back later, Tony. You can finish this episode. And my sandwich."

Then I popped downstairs, outside the door. First, I pulled out some crackers and more water from my requip space and gave a small knock on the door before opening it.

He sat on the bed, in the same position I left him in, staring at the door. The cards weren't spread out in front of him anymore – they were back in the box, which was settled with the string and Rubix Cube on his pull-around tray.

"Hey," I said, pulling the door behind me and moving towards the chair on his side.

He looked at me, wary, with his hand still wrapped around the button.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him.

He seemed scared to answer. Probably because he still felt uncomfortable having the autonomy to decide when to summon me.

"…I remember the boy," he finally said.

I smiled and sat down. "That's great!"

"I don't really remember names," he admitted. "Just…flashes. Memories. He got into a lot of fights," he added.

I laughed and passed the food forward. "Yeah, that's not surprising."

Bucky looked towards the door. "And that man from earlier…"

"Tony," I said.

"Tony," he continued. "For some reason he reminds me of…flying cars?"

I nodded. "You met his father once, a long, long time ago. He was putting on a presentation of a flying car."

His eyes unseeing, he nodded. "Things seem…different. In the flashes. Familiar, but…different."

"You were born in 1917, I think," I said quietly. "Most of those memories are of the twenties and thirties."

He nodded, his eyes refocusing on me. "I know it's at least 2005."

"Yeah," I said. "It's 2010 right now."

An expression crossed his face, but it was gone before I could understand it.

Damn assassins.

That's going to be annoying.

"And what…happened, to him?" he finally asked. "The boy?"

Instead of answering, I settled down into the seat next to him. "Do you remember your name?"

He shook his head.

"Alright," I said, nodding. "Then we'll start at the beginning. First, your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you went by the nickname 'Bucky'."

He didn't say anything, but his lips formed his name on repeat.

"The boy's name was Steven Grant Rogers," I said. "And Steve was your best friend."

His mouth formed the words, Steve Rogers of his own accord.

"You guys grew up together and did everything together. Eventually, the war came. I'm pretty sure you were drafted, though I think Steve thinks you applied. You left and Steve tried to find a new way to follow you to war."

I paused, thinking. "Steve was very weak, very sick. He probably shouldn't have left the house." I wasn't quite sure how to explain Steve's 'miraculousness' without breaking the fourth wall, and that might be too much for Bucky right now. "Which is saying something, because houses are a lot cleaner now than they were in the thirties."

I took a break and drank some water. Bucky watched me with undivided interest as I finished up my drink. "Because Steve was so unhealthy, he got rejected every time he tried to join the army. But because this is Steve we're talking about, he kept trying."

A snort escaped the soldier, and I smiled at him. He seemed a bit embarrassed but his eyes were a bit far away, as if he was remembering. Eventually, his eyes met mine again. "So what happened?"

"He found a way in," I said, shrugging. "Went through some basic training, was picked out of a group of soldiers for his heart and mind, not his brawn. The experimental treatment used on him got rid of all his deficiencies."

"Is that why he's sometimes big?" Bucky asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. He ended up being taller than you, and was extremely strong. They called him a super soldier. You currently have an offshoot of his serum, which is why you're also very strong, and possibly one of reasons you're so young still – Tony and I are still going through your files to see how often you were awake."

A look crossed his face. A look I think I recognized.

"Do you not want me to watch them?" I asked.

The look appeared again. Shame.

"Hey, listen, both Tony and I have been through some rough stuff, too. We don't think less of you because of it."

I could tell by his eyes that he didn't believe me.

"Okay, so I'm going to tell you some secrets. I was going to wait until you were better because you're probably still processing that you're away from Hydra. But I think it might help."

He stared, waiting for me.

"I know that Hydra did some freaky experiments," I continued. "Did you ever hear anything about parallel universes and other dimensions?"

He shook his head.

"I come from another universe," I said. "A universe where magic is real. And I can still do magic here."

His eyes widened.

"So," I continued. "One of my friends found a way to transplant memories. I would give you a card to put to your forehead, and you would basically see the memories I put it in. Like a show."

He still looked wary.

"What I'm offering you," I continued. "Is my memories of when I was younger and tortured. So you know you're not alone. If you're not comfortable with magic, or seeing visions, or watching that, let me know, but I want you to know that the offer is there and the offer is open."

Slowly, he nodded.

"Alright," I said. "First, I have several types of magic. One is called 'Requip'. It basically lets me store things on another dimension. Imagine me carrying a very, very large bag, that weighs nothing and is invisible. So I'm going to requip out the magic card, okay? Just warning you."

He nodded, looking at me warily.

Slowly, I brought up my hand and requipped the Memory Card into it. His eyes widened but he didn't move. Then I put it to my forehead and closed my eyes, activating the card and recording it.

After about a minute, I pulled it away and put it down on the pull around table.

"If you ever want to watch it," I started saying. "It's right here. You don't have to watch it, and I can guess that you might be uncomfortable with magic. But the option is here if you want it."

He nodded, staring at me before he asked, "What happened to Steve? Hydra…I think Hydra might have told me that he died."

"He didn't," I told him. "He was frozen."

He froze, his eyes flashing with fear. "Like me?"

"Not exactly," I soothed. "He's still asleep, he isn't being used or anything. He 'died' by crashing a plane into the Arctic. Something about bombs, I'm sure you can yell at him later for it."

He let a snort escape and froze, before I smiled at him. "It's okay to feel things. Like anger at Steve for nearly killing himself."

I wasn't quite sure what the face he was giving me was, but it sort of looked like a smile. Just a quirk of the lips.

"Anyway," I continued. "The cold froze him. He hasn't been tortured, or with Hydra since then. He's just been asleep. While we help you recover, we'll also be getting ready to find him."

The look he gave me was a mix between gratefulness and worry.

"But I'm not…I'm not Bucky Barnes," he said quietly. "Not…not anymore."

"It doesn't matter who you are," I said. "Or what you've been through or forced to do. People change a lot. Steve himself changed after you fell to your 'death' during a mission. Something about not wanting to kill anyone before, and it turning into wanting to wipe Hydra off the map. Steve will be a bit different from your memories, too. He lost you, and he thought he died for a great cause. People change. Steve will still care about you, no matter how different you are."

He held my eyes, and slowly nodded.

I smiled and sat back. He was still staring at me.

"Would you let me leave?" he asked abruptly.

"Like...the house?" I asked him.

He nodded.

I stared at him. "Not right now. But, when we've got you all caught up to date and you can correctly answer a few questions, then if you want to leave, you can."

He nodded. "That's fair. What questions?"

"Mostly a mix of factual questions from your previous life, of what you remember, and morality questions," I admitted.

He nodded again, still looking at me. "Shouldn't I be in prison?"

"No," I said firmly. "Once we get everything straightened out, you'll probably go to trial, yeah. But Tony and I are working on building a case for your defense. You're the longest POW in history and were brainwashed by a Nazi terrorist organization. At most, it's likely you'll be restricted to one area, maybe a sort of house arrest, unless you're accompanied with certain people, and a type of civil service where you would help us stop HYDRA and alien threats."

He was still staring at me. "And do you think I deserve that? To be let off that easily?"

"Personally, I don't even think you deserve those as punishment," I admitted. "You've been through a lot, and shouldn't have to be forced to fight if you don't want to. Though I have a feeling that you'll probably end up getting involved anyway, if Steve is."

He grunted. "Punk needs me to watch his back."

I nodded. "That's what I thought."

"...Thank you, Elle," he said. His eyes darted towards the door. "Can you…can I?"

"I can go," I told him softly. "If you need me, I'll be here at the push of a button."

He tried to smile in thanks. It came across as more of a grimace, but I knew what he was hoping for.

I nodded at him and left him alone to his thoughts.