Of the several things Peggy was not currently in the mood for, the hulking, stubborn-looking blond standing in her doorway was rapidly making the top of her list.
"Move," she said sharply, not caring about the Shield crest on his uniform. She knew she should probably be showing more diplomacy, but after spending the last two days dealing with his ilk, she couldn't find it in herself to do so.
Though she had asked for - and appreciated - the first group Fury had sent, she had quickly lost patience with the rest, and was growing tired of the parade of agents Fury was continuing to send without her permission. Really, it was a wonder she hadn't punched one yet. Not only were most of them running roughshod all over her investigation, but the competent ones kept trying to undermine her authority.
Such as this pill, who was still not moving.
"I'm here to help," he said, raising his chin. He had the air of someone who was used to giving orders rather than taking them, and just looking at him was making Peggy tired.
"Wonderful," Peggy replied. "Now, move."
The man didn't waver. "I was told you were the one to see if I wanted to find out what is going on," he said, crossing his arms and staring at her expectantly.
Deciding that this man was going to be the Shield agent she punched, Peggy wondered where Jarvis was. He'd been taking it upon himself to herd the Shield people about, and thus far this was the only one he'd let slip past.
Someone cleared their throat from beside them, and then Pepper stepped forward, looking nervously between the man and Peggy. "I let him in, ma'am," she said, looking quickly over at the man, then turning her back on him to face Peggy fully and lowering her voice. "You see, he's -"
"Steven Rogers," the man said, inclining his head. "Heir of Shield."
Peggy paused.
Oh, bloody hell.
She did not have time for this.
"I see," she said slowly, and then inclined her head as well. "In that case…" She raised her head and looked him straight in the eye. "Move, milord."
Steven's mouth opened and then snapped shut in surprise, while Pepper coughed in order to hide her laugh.
Then, incredibly, Steven smiled.
"Tony was right. You are terrifying," he said, expression fond, before turning more serious. "Please, I - I really do want to help, anyway I can. How is Lord Stark faring?"
Peggy considered him. Though she had heard much about him from both Howard and Tony, she herself had never met him (something she suspected was intentional on Howard and Tony's part, after the incident with Lord Quill a few summers ago), and therefor had never let herself develop an opinion on him.
Though, looking at those broad shoulders and blue eyes, it was no wonder Tony hadn't put up much of a fight against the engagement; a thought Peggy felt bad for almost as soon as she was done thinking it.
Good looks and worries about her nephew's future notwithstanding, Tony seemed to genuinely like the man, and it looked as though she was going to be seeing more of him whether she liked it or not. Might as well start putting some effort in now.
"My brother is too stubborn to let something as blase as bad liquor kill him," Peggy sighed, answering Steven's question and moving to walk past him. To her surprise, Steven actually moved this time, and let both her and Pepper pass before trailing after them.
"So I hear," Steven said. "But is he going to be alright?"
"It depends on your definition of 'alright'," Peggy replied as they walked through her study. She moved around her desk and opened a drawer, then started rummaging through it. "He still hasn't woken up, so most people would probably say no. But since the doctors think he'll make a full recovery and he isn't up and complaining about us pouring out all of his good scotch, I think he's splendid."
Steven blinked a few times, as though he wasn't sure what to say to that. Then he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… good news. But, uh - is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yes. Make your people leave," Peggy said bluntly, finally finding the letter she was looking for and opening it.
Steven startled. "What? Why? I thought you needed-"
"Competent souls willing to cooperate and take orders from me?" Peggy suggested, raising her eyebrows. "Because that is not what I am getting. Tell me - is Fury sending all of these people in an attempt to micromanage me and mine, or because he finds us that incompetent?"
Steven pursed his lips. "Probably because he's a paranoid bastard and likes to be in control," he said, surprising Peggy yet again by sounding as though he didn't approve. "I'm sorry, I'll speak with him. But in the meantime, someone in your house might have had something to do with all this, and leaving you and your people to your own devices just isn't -"
"I know," Peggy said irritably. "Which is exactly why I don't need so many of your people running around and scaring whoever he or she is into keeping their head down and their guard up. I need -"
There was a clatter that startled them all. Peggy looked towards the source and found Jarvis standing in the doorway and heaving, his face paler than she had ever seen it.
"Mr. Jarvis? Heavens, whatever is the matter?!"
"I'm very sorry, Ms. Carter," Jarvis gasped, and even if he hadn't looked so disheveled Peggy would have known something was wrong, because Jarvis only ever called her that around members of the family. "But a messenger has just arrived, and I'm afraid -"
He swallowed and visibly tried - and failed - to compose himself.
"It's Anthony," he whispered, making Peggy's stomach turn to ice. "Captain Rhodes - he rode into Bacster with a group of Fort Mira soldiers a day ago, and the message is just now getting to us. There was some sort of attack on the Fort Mira express, and Anthony -"
He wrung his hands, looking from Peggy to Pepper and then Steven.
"Anthony is missing."
The metal arm hurts when the doctor prods at it, but the Soldier knows better than to say anything about it. He cannot remember why, and it hurts his head when he tries, and he thinks that might be answer enough anyways.
"You are finished," the doctor says finally, when the Soldier can finally make a fist. "Go and stand with the others."
The Soldier obeys, getting up and walking over to stand with his, his, his -
Brothers? Comrades? Others. The others. The ones like him, who do not feel or think, but live and die for the mission. All standing in a line, waiting, waiting for orders, most blank faced except for a select few, who are wearing puzzled expressions, expressions that also confuse the Soldier, make him feel, make him feel -
Another doctor, Zola, comes, and orders them to follow. They do. Through the halls and deeper into the castle, over a bridge and closer to the smell of seawater. The Soldier thinks the path might be familiar, even though he is sure he has never been here before.
They come to a stop on a bridge over a lake in a massive cavern. Zola starts speaking again, but the Soldier cannot hear him over the distracting voices in his head - one that sounds soft and melodious, and another that sounds like his own, which is screaming at him and telling him to move.
He does not.
Zola appears before him, mouth a smile without joy, and gives him a cup filled with a dark, thick liquid the Soldier recognizes as blood.
"Drink," Zola says softly.
The Soldier drinks.
The soft, melodious voice gets louder, more soothing, and drowns out the screaming voice entirely.
"Hail Hydra," Zola murmurs, and takes the cup from him.
When the Soldier looks down at the lake beneath them, there is a giant pair of red, glowing eyes staring back at him.
Bucky woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest and his skin crawling from the nightmare.
Swallowing around his dry throat, he rolled over until he was facing the front of his cell, where the light was best and the food and water was usually left. He was unsurprised to find neither; his captors had been leaving it less and less after he'd caved in one of the bandits' skulls with a tin cup.
Probably for the best. He didn't think he could drink anything after that nightmare anyway.
He sat up gingerly, the movement awkward with his right arm shackled and his left the broken deadweight it was. He didn't know what the bandits had done to it when they captured him, but it had been utterly useless ever since, and a large contribution to his discomfort.
Two weeks. By his count, he'd been here two weeks. Two weeks in this sad little cell with pitiful security, and yet he still hadn't found a way to escape. It was absolutely embarrassing, more so than being captured to begin with.
Worse, he still didn't know where they were holding Stark. And Bucky knew that they had him, and that he was still alive, because he kept hearing them talk about him. Complaining about his lack of cooperation, then bragging about torturing him into compliance, the latter of which being the reason Bucky had lost his temper with the tin cup.
Steve was probably losing his mind. In fact, Bucky would bet the useless hunk of metal that was his left arm that the dumb punk was defying orders and hunting him and Stark down now, Fury and all of Shield be damned. A part of Bucky almost wished he was, just so he could see these assholes fall before the unholy might that was an angry Steve.
Ignoring the rumbling from his belly, Bucky tilted his head back and scowled up at the ceiling. In actuality, Bucky had no idea if and when help was coming. Steve would be too stubborn to even consider the idea, but it was quite possible Shield thought they were both dead. For now, at least, Bucky was on his own, and he needed to figure out a way to get to Stark and escape.
Lost in thought, he closed his eyes, and was just starting to drift off again when a commotion up the corridor broke him out of his doze.
Frowning, Bucky pushed himself to a standing position and edged as close to the front of his cell as his shackled arm would allow.
Four men appeared in front of his cell, looking furious and armed to the teeth.
"Against the wall," one snarled, brandishing his blade, while his fellow pulled out a key and unlocked the door.
Bucky complied, mentally taking stock of their weapons as he did so. If he could get ahold of one of their knives…
"What is going on?" Bucky asked in their language, more as a distraction than anything else. Two of the men were pressing blades against his back and stomach while a third watched, but the fourth man was busy undoing his shackle from the wall, his dagger an enticing temptation on his belt.
"You will come with us and do as you're told," snapped the same man, before exiting the cell and then barking at the others to follow.
Bucky grunted and allowed the other three men to manhandle him out of the cell, discreetly pocketing the stolen dagger. He didn't bother asking where they were going, figuring it would either earn him a punch or another rebuttal, but he tried to memorize the way as they went, knowing it would come in handy later.
After a few minutes of marching deeper into the cave, he was shoved through a door and pushed to his knees, one blade at his throat and another digging into his back.
"You will translate for us," someone ordered, yanking Bucky's head back and forcing him to look up at them.
Bucky grunted again, eyes immediately darting around to survey his surroundings when the man let go of his head and stopped blocking his vision.
The room was bigger than his cell, though there were so many of the bandits in it that it was much more cramped. They were all standing in a loose circle around Bucky, a man with a scruffy goatee who was also on his knees, a person lying face-down on the ground, and a bald bandit who wore no head piece or bandana, whom Bucky suspected was in charge.
The other man on his knees wouldn't take his eyes off the man lying down, his face blank but his eyes shining with emotion.
"Since you do not seem to understand the gravity of your situation, Lord Stark, perhaps you will understand it better from one of your countrymen," the bald bandit in charge said, shocking Bucky into jerking his head up.
"Stark?" Bucky blurted, wincing when his movement made one of the blades cut into him a little, and scarcely believing his luck.
Stark twitched and swiveled his head towards Bucky, eyes widening in surprise.
He was not at all what Bucky was expecting. He didn't look much like the man Steve had described, but then again, torture and captivity could do that to a person. His face was dirty and gaunt, hair a tangled mess and clothes even more ragged than Bucky's. Even so, Bucky could tell he was handsome, underneath it all, though that wasn't the thing that gave Bucky pause.
No, what caught his attention was Stark's eyes, and the hint of defiant steel Bucky could see in them even from here.
"Ah, see? He even knows who you are," Baldy continued pleasantly, smacking Bucky on the shoulder in a parody of friendliness.
Stark visibly clenched his jaw and glared at the man, hate in his eyes.
The bandit smirked sadistically. "Tell him if he does not build us what we asked, he will die, like his friend, here," he told Bucky without looking at him, smirk widening as he watched Stark.
Bucky grimaced, not sure why he was bothering if this guy could just say it in English anyway, but looked at Stark and said "Uh, he says -"
"Build him what he wants or I die," Stark said dully, eyes leaving the leader's and locking on Bucky's instead. "Yes, I know. That's what they've been saying." He then looked over at the body of his companion, his face hardening. "Tell them they can go fuck themselves, and as colorfully as possible, please."
Bucky could see why Steve liked the guy. Had they been in any other situation, he might have even laughed.
"I'd really like to, but I don't think that's a good idea," Bucky said reasonably, eyes flicking to the bandits' swords pointedly.
Stark scowled. "Why not? I already told them I would, and they killed - my friend, anyway," he said, words stumbling as he glanced over to his dead companion again. "I won't help them kill more people, even to save my own skin."
Though Bucky's respect for Stark moved up several notches, his estimation for his survival did not.
The leader tsked, then stepped forward and yanked Stark's head back by his hair. "We killed him because we had an agreement, one that you breached," he said calmly, despite the cold fury that was coming off of him in waves. Stark winced as his hair was pulled harder, forcing his head back even more and exposing his throat. "Perhaps you need to be reconvinced," he added softly, holding his hand out to one of his men, who dropped a small knife into it. "There are much worse things than dying, after all."
He then pressed the knife into the skin of Stark's collarbone, and slowly started adding pressure, drawing a tiny drop of blood at first -
"Wait!" Bucky shouted, jerking the arms of the men who were holding him, and making several of the bandits reach for their swords.
The leader turned towards him and raised an eyebrow, but didn't take the knife away from Stark's skin, while Stark himself looked at him as though he'd just grown two extra arms.
Bucky licked his lips. "Wait," he said again, quieter but much more forcefully.
He just needed to buy a little time. He'd found (well, sort-of) Stark, which had always been his first real obstacle to getting out anyway. Now that he had him, all he needed was a little more time to come up with a plan, and to not get Stark or himself killed or maimed in the meantime.
Which, given the last few minutes, was probably going to be easier said than done.
God, Steve knew how to pick 'em.
Bucky locked eyes with Stark.
"Say you'll do what they want," he said, willing Stark to play along.
Stark frowned, while the leader let go of his hair and chuckled. "Listen to the man, Stark," he said mockingly, giving Bucky a smug look. "Clearly, he is much smarter than you."
Bucky swallowed, ignoring the leader and determinedly keeping eye contact with Stark in hopes he'd do the same. "Trust me," he told him, pulse loud in his ears. "Please," he added, when it looked as though Stark was wavering. "Steve would want you to live."
Stark's face twitched at the mention of Steve's name, from surprise to hope and then dejection, before shutting down completely.
He looked up at the leader, face still blank. Bucky held his breath, and then -
"Fine," Stark said, voice hollow and jaw clenched.
Bucky let out a breath of relief while the leader chuckled quietly.
"I thought so," he said, and then motioned for his men to move.
"This man will stay with you as your translator," he added, pointing at Bucky. "And as your assistant, since you claimed to need one, and your last one is, well," He looked distastefully over at the body on the floor, which two men began dragging away.
Stark's face twisted, eyes glittering in a combination of grief and anger, but he didn't say anything.
The leader turned and starting walking towards the door, so while Stark couldn't see his smirk when he next spoke, Bucky could.
"Perhaps you will take better care of this one, yes?"
"Who the hell are you?" Stark demanded, as soon as they were alone.
Bucky shook his head and held his finger to his lips for silence, tilting his head towards the door and listening for the guards.
"They're gone," Stark said impatiently, flapping his arm towards the door. "There are only ever two guards in the hall , and they can't hear us unless we're standing by the door. Now answer my question - who are you, and how the hell do you know Steve? Are you one of Fury's - he doesn't call them henchmen, does he?"
"Not to our faces, no," Bucky replied, splitting his attention between Stark and the door. "My name is Bucky Barnes," he added, once he was satisfied that no one was listening in on them. He then walked over to the door and ran his hand over it, looking for weaknesses. "Steve sent me to collect you, only neither of us were expecting -"
"Bucky?" Stark asked, voice puzzled. "Who the hell is - oh, shit ," he hissed, startling Bucky into whipping around and facing him.
Stark stared back at him with wide eyes, and plopped down on the cot he'd been standing near. "You're that Bucky, aren't you?"
Bucky blinked at him, bemused. "Uh… what Bucky?"
Stark waved his hand. " The Bucky. Steve's Bucky. James Barnes, his beloved brother-in-arms, the prodigal son that returned - that Bucky," he said impatiently, eyes roaming over Bucky as though he were seeing him for the first time.
"Uh," Bucky said intelligently, not entirely comfortable under the scrutiny. "I didn't think you knew who I was."
Everyone in Shield House knew about him, but it was rather hard for them not to, with the rumors and the constant whispering about his time under HYDRA's spell.
Stark gave him a look. "You really think I'm friends with Steve Rogers and don't know who you are?" he asked, as though Bucky had just insulted his intelligence. "Half the time I couldn't get the sap to shut up about you, especially when you were -" Stark froze, his mouth snapping shut, then grimaced. "- gone. Sorry, that wasn't - never mind. Just… I know who you are," he finished lamely, rubbing the back of his neck.
Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly, then shuffled over and sat down on the crate nearest Stark.
"Stevie always was a sap," Bucky agreed lightly, chewing the inside of his cheek. "He… he said you helped him, a lot. When everyone thought I was dead."
Stark looked up in surprise. "Did he?" he asked, squirming uncomfortably. "I don't know about that. Mostly I just riled him up and gave him someone to argue with - poor substitute for a lost best friend, really."
Bucky cracked a smile. "Then you don't know how half of our conversations usually went," he chuckled. "Stevie loves arguin', sometimes just for the sake of bein' contrary." Bucky shook his head. "I think it's a carry-over from when he was a tiny little twig most folks could just snap in half."
Stark tried to hide a smile. "Like those tiny, aggressive little dogs?" he suggested, eyes alight.
"My ma used to call him chihuahua," Bucky admitted, biting his lip.
Stark burst into laughter, a full belly-laugh that had him clutching his sides. It lit up his whole face, took years of worry off of him even though Bucky knew he was all of only twenty or so to begin with, and once again made Bucky take note of how handsome he was.
"Oh, I can't wait to tell him I know that," he wheezed, before sobering up immediately. "I mean… provided I get to see him again," he sighed.
Bucky stiffened. "You will," he said firmly, flexing his good arm and looking over his shoulder to scowl at the door.
Stark shrugged ambivalently. "Okay… so you're here to, what? Rescue me?" he asked, with a tone of skepticism Bucky did not at all appreciate.
"That's the plan," Bucky grunted, standing up and turning around slowly, so he could survey the room.
There was little bits of junk everywhere, piled in corners and on the tables pushed up against the walls. Little bits of metal, half-built little gadgets, a few broken metal plates, and even what appeared to be salvaged scrap from the train.
All things that would make excellent weapons in a pinch.
"Have they been bringing you this stuff, or was it already here when you got here?" Bucky asked, pausing to eye a bloodstained rag that was hanging out of a bowl next to Stark's cot.
"Little of both," Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They were just bringing me whatever I asked without questioning - 'cept for Raza, the leader, they aren't all that bright, you see - but now…" His eyes moved over to the only other cot in the room, then the place on the floor where the dead man had been.
Bucky started connecting the dots. "That man they killed…" he began slowly.
Stark flinched and shook his head. "Yinsen," he said hollowly. "He… he was a doctor. Had already been here for a while, had…" He swallowed and closed his eyes, and brought his hands up to his chest. "I, I was hurt. In the train wreck. There, there was metal, in my chest." He tapped the center of his chest for emphasis, eyes still closed. "It, it was going to kill me, but Yinsen, he… saved me. Saved me, and helped me make something that could get the rest of the metal out, with some of the stuff the bandits kept bringing in. They thought I was building them the stuff they wanted, but…"
"When they found out you didn't, they killed him," Bucky finished, wincing.
Stark nodded, and opened his eyes. "He was my friend," he said quietly. "And now he's dead because of me."
"I'm sorry," Bucky said softly, after a few minutes of silence. "He sounded like a good man."
Stark huffed. "A better one than I," he said bitterly, setting his hands into his lap and clenching them into fists. "You should have just let them kill me. They're going to use you the same way they used Yinsen, and the second I do something wrong, they're going to take it out on you, as well."
Bucky scoffed. "They can try," he growled. "I'm tougher than I look. Besides, if I'd watched you die, I'd never have been able to look Stevie in the eye again." He lifted his chin and pointed towards the door. "You and I are getting out of here if I have to strap you to my back and fight my way out armed with nothing but a spoon, Lord Stark."
Stark raised his eyebrows. "We're way past any formalities. Call me Tony," he snorted, some of the light returning to his eyes. "And I'm starting to see why you and Steve are friends."
Bucky's grin was feral. "Takes a certain kind'a personality to handle him," he agreed, feeling pleased when that earned him a small smile.
"Don't I know it," Stark - Tony - sighed, shaking his head. "Though, speaking of Steve… how did he take it when he found out I was missing?"
Bucky coughed. "He, uh, actually doesn't know. Or at least, he didn't when I left."
Tony frowned and cocked his head. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You said Steve had sent you to come get me."
Bucky grimaced and sat back down, rubbing at his aching left shoulder and biting his lip.
"He did, but… okay, Lord - Tony, there's - that is, something happened, back home. You see, your father…"
Tony took the news of his father better than Bucky expected, though his drawn face and nervous tapping still showed his distress.
"But he's - he's alive?" Tony asked, frowning down at his lap. "My father, he's…?"
"He was when I left," Bucky replied, and though it was on the tip of his tongue to add an 'I'm sure he's fine,' he didn't.
Tony nodded to himself. "And they don't know who did it?"
Bucky shook his head. "Not that I know of. But your - aunt? - was supposed to be on the case."
Tony's shoulders slumped minutely. "Pegs, yeah," he said, smiling faintly while his eyes flashed in relief. "She always gets her man." He hunched in on himself. "At least she's okay. I wouldn't put it past anyone who wanted to go after Father to try and hurt her as well."
Bucky mulled that over, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "This… probably isn't very sensitive, considering, but do you know if your old man had any enemies?" he asked carefully.
Tony chuckled humorlessly. "You want a list?" he asked darkly, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes.
Bucky grimaced. "That bad, huh?"
Tony sighed. "My father isn't the most… diplomatic of people," he said slowly. "It's made him a lot of enemies, and is one of the reasons people outside of Stark House were so happy to have Steve and I married, so the line of succession would go straight to me." He shrugged and wrinkled his nose. "I can't think of anyone who would want him dead , though."
"Let's not worry about it now," Bucky suggested, flexing his left shoulder. "If you don't mind me saying, we've got more important things to worry about, anyway."
Tony nodded distractedly. "It's just… that this happened at the same time I…"
"Yeah," Bucky said quietly. "I've thought the same thing."
Tony paled. "Steve," he said, sitting up and staring at Bucky with wide eyes. "If someone is trying to get to me and my father, then Steve -"
"Has Fury's paranoid butt watching him like a hawk," Bucky finished, rubbing at his sore shoulder again. "He's prob'ly in better shape than either of us right now, in any case. Well, other than all the worrying he's probably been doing since he figured out the two of us are missing."
That earned Bucky a ghost of a smile, then a look of determination. "We've got to get out of here," Tony said, some of the steel Bucky had glimpsed before in his voice.
"You won't get any argument from me," Bucky huffed, managing to turn his grimace of pain into a smirk at the last minute.
Tony noticed anyway, though, and frowned. "What's wrong with your arm?" he asked, nodding towards Bucky's left shoulder.
Bucky bit his lip. "Busted," he grunted, shifting carefully and pulling it into his lap with his good hand. "Which is going to make escaping a little harder, but -"
"Can I see?" Tony asked, leaning forward and eyeing the arm thoughtfully.
Bucky hesitated. "It's - well, you can , but I don't know how much good it'll do. It's, uh, it's not exactly a normal arm -"
"I know," Tony interrupted, eyes flicking up to Bucky's. "Steve - Steve told me about it," he added, tone apologetic.
Bucky grunted, not entirely sure how he felt about that. It didn't really matter now, though, so he started to pull his shirt off, movements awkward with one hand. If nothing else, maybe Tony could help Bucky rig it up so it wasn't dangling and putting so much pressure on his shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Tony grabbed his shirt to help him, tugging Bucky's useless arm free of its sleeve and politely not touching - or looking at - any of Bucky's bare skin.
Tony whistled and traced the scorch mark on the bicep with his thumb. "Damn, what happened to it?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"One of the bandits hit me with somethin'," Bucky mumbled, scowling at the memory. "Don't know what it was, but it felt like gettin' struck by lightning, and it hasn't worked since."
Tony winced in sympathy. "Sorry, that had to have hurt," he said, then bit his lip. "I don't… Yinsen had a little pain medicine, but we used it all the first day."
He sounded guilty, which made Bucky feel guilty as well when he remembered what Tony had said about being injured.
"The pain's not so bad," Bucky lied. "It's the uselessness that's gettin' to me. Well, that and trying to figure out what the hell it was they hit me with."
Tony made a face, then scooted back until he was sitting on his cot again. "There's a mineral, in the valleys north of here, that some of the researchers at Fort Mira discovered," he said slowly, hand moving to scratch at his chest nervously. "Under certain circumstances it creates a charge, like static electricity. I've been hoping to look into it as a fuel source, but…" He shrugged helplessly, and made a motion that encompassed the room. "It can also be used as an explosive. There was - well, not a lot, but enough to make some trouble - on the train they took me from."
Bucky thought that over, trying to pick up what Tony wasn't saying. Then it clicked. "That… wouldn't happen to be one of the things they wanted you to build for them, was it?"
Tony gave him a thin smile, and tapped his nose.
"Yinsen and I used some of it to magnetize the metal fragments in my chest," he said, drumming his fingers against his knee. "The plan was to use the rest to blow the doors off, for our grand escape, but…"
Bucky leaned forward eagerly. "No, that's a good plan! Blow the doors off, escape in the confusion… hey, do you think you could make us one of those sticks they used against me?"
"I could," Tony said, nodding. "If I had any of the stuff to work with."
Bucky paused, the plans he'd been making in his head skittering away. "You… what? But… didn't you just say you had some?"
"Yep. Had. As in, I don't anymore," Tony sighed, reaching down and digging into his boot. "Or at least, not enough to do anything. This is all I have left," he said, pulling a small, blue pebble out of boot and holding it up for Bucky to see.
Bucky stared at it in despair. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's not enough to blow anything up, is it?"
Tony raised his free hand and made a so-so motion. "Technically, yes," he said, slipping the piece back into his boot. "But a piece this size won't hold a big enough charge to do any real damage to either a person or, well, a door. I'd need about four or five more pieces that size - plus a couple of other things in order to build the stuff that makes it go boom, but most of that is already here."
Bucky frowned thoughtfully, then peeked back over his shoulder to glance at the door. "I'm guessing the reason you don't have as much as you did before is because they took it when they realized you weren't building them what they wanted," he said, turning back to Tony and nodding towards him.
Tony scowled. "Yep."
"So they'll have to bring it back - or at least some of it - if they want you to build anything with it," Bucky continued, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee.
Tony nodded, his mouth turning up in a slow, sly smile.
"Do you think you could skim a little off each time, without them noticing?"
Tony grinned. "Are you kidding?" he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Like I said, they aren't all that bright. I think Raza is the only one with more than two braincells to rub together. It took them two weeks to realize I wasn't doing what they wanted me to do before." He stood up and walked over to one of the junk-strewn tables, then picked up a bucket that was sitting underneath. "It'll take time, but it should be a piece of cake."
"Cake is good," Bucky said, amused, while Tony rifled through the bucket's contents. "Time not so much, but I don't see any other way around it, so I guess it can't be helped."
"Cake is excellent," Tony retorted, marching back over with a handful of scraps and dropping them onto the crate nearest Bucky. "And time is literally all we have in this hell-hole, so we might as well use it. In the meantime..."
He scooted another crate closer to Bucky and sat down on it, then stared at Bucky expectedly.
"If you want me to come up with an entire plan right this second, you're going to be disappointed," Bucky told him, feeling exposed with his shirt half-on.
Tony scoffed. "Your arm," he said, rolling his eyes and waving his hand at Bucky's left side. "Might make escaping a little easier if we can get it working again."
Bucky blinked, taken aback. "You… you think you can?" he asked, looking down at it hopefully.
Tony shrugged. "No idea," he said. "But it's a problem in front of me that I can try to fix, right now. And, not to brag or anything, but I am a genius. If anyone could fix it, it would probably be me." He flashed Bucky a cocky grin that should have been grating, but which Bucky found oddly comforting instead.
"It's a good thing you're here with me, then," Bucky said easily, which seemed to surprise Tony. Bucky scooted to the very end of his crate and waved at his arm. "Have at it, Lord Genius."
Tony huffed and ducked his head to hide a small smile, then went to work.
AN: So, I keep finding bits where my document keeps screwing with my formatting (mainly by putting extra spaces where the italics are, and by omitting my scene breaks entirely). I've been trying to fix them as I spot them, but some keeping slipping through the cracks (or mysteriously appearing after I've uploaded/published my doc), so please bear with me. ^_^'
