Chapter 6: What Goes Up...
After a very long night of explaining the impossible to a lot of confused people, tending injured, settling those who needed a crash pad into the tents, and arranging to get others where they needed to be, Bucky was relieved when Sam, Steve, and the others finally crashed themselves in the restored Avengers complex.
Dr. Strange and the other sorcerers had helped quite a few of the survivors get back home. RJ was back in Brooklyn already, and Bucky wished he could have seen that reunion. Even if it wasn't the Yori he knew, it was still Yori, and it made him happier than he could remember being in a long time to imagine the look on the older man's face when he saw his son.
Tony had located a younger sister for Anya in Saint Petersburg who was now 66 years old, and one of the sorcerers had opened a portal to take her and her daughter home. Bucky had kept his distance. His very presence terrified her, and it wasn't worth further traumatizing her to try to apologize or explain. She would have a huge adjustment, but at least she had family to help ease the transition.
Tony spent a good portion of the evening catching up with his parents and introducing them virtually to Morgan. Clint had spent two hours on the phone with his family. Bucky figured the arrow-wielding Avenger would be heading off to reunite with them as soon as he could.
The Wakandans had set up a few medical tents to help the injured and established a perimeter to keep reporters from harassing those recovering. From the outside, the simple tents looked like something out of WWII, but anyone who stepped inside was greeted to the most jaw-dropping technological display of medical prowess on the planet. His younger self was in one of those tents, getting patched up by Shuri and others. She'd shooed the Avengers out of her way, demanding they leave her to her work and get sleep so they would be of some use later. Those who were too seriously injured for the tent had been transported to Wakanda directly, thanks to the sorcerers. Others with more garden variety injuries were transported to local hospitals or released.
There were lots of happy reunions and tearful goodbyes. As exhausted as Bucky felt, he was too wired to sleep. He had no long-term plan. Banner and the Starks had already started working out the logistics of whether it was possible to send him back to his future timeline. That wasn't a timeline that held much in the way of promise for him, but it was where he belonged. Then there was the matter of Sam in that timeline, who'd once again broken the law to help him. Bucky wanted to return to make sure Sam didn't pay the price…again.
He told them none of what had happened in the future. It wasn't their problem, it was his, and there would be nothing they could do about it, anyway. If he was being truly honest with himself—something he rarely was, he knew—he also didn't want them to know what he'd done. Right now, the people around him smiled at him. They hugged him. They liked him. They saw him as Bucky Barnes, recovered former Winter Soldier, Steve's friend, guy who just helped save the universe.
He didn't want them to see him as the guy who helped break Zemo out of prison and got an innocent man killed. He didn't want to have to explain to them what he would be heading back to when he returned to his own timeline. He was riding a high of emotions he hadn't felt in a long time, and seeing disappointment or, worse, judgment on Steve's face was an image he didn't want to take with him into the Raft.
If they couldn't figure out how to get him home, then he'd have no choice but to either stay where he was or find that happy little corner of time Sam suggested.
So, once everyone was asleep, he quietly made his exit to retrieve the time machine, tablet, and his few belongings. He settled his bill with the motel front clerk and made his way back to the Avenger's complex to get the device to safety before heading off for a few more errands. As he stood in front of the restored building, the pack slung across his chest and the inactive time travel box in his left hand, he smiled.
He might spend the rest of his days in the Raft, but until then, he had time to celebrate making good on his amends and even enjoy life a little. It would likely be his only last real chance to do so, and he didn't want to waste that opportunity.
-0- -0- -0-
When Steve opened his eyes, he heard the soft sounds of music, barely perceptible through the door. The room was bright enough that he knew it was late in the day. His whole body ached. Shuri had patched him up a bit last night, but there were far greater wounded that needed tending—including Bucky.
Still, going head to fist with Thanos had really done a number on him. His head ached, and as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he realized his left leg and ribs still had healing to do. He needed to go check on Bucky in the medical tent. He knew his friend would be okay because…
…Bucky's future self had saved the universe. The fog of fresh sleep cleared from Steve's head, and he pushed himself to his feet, giving into a groan as his ribs and leg protested. He slipped on a white T-shirt and jeans and stretched his aching leg experimentally, then looked out his window.
Tents still peppered the grounds, along with dozens of media vans and reporters. He sighed. Now that they'd won the battle, they'd have a lot of hard work dealing with the aftermath.
There were two Buckys he needed to check on. Chaos had reigned last night with so many moving parts between the injured and the resurrected that he hadn't had a lot of time to process the situation, much less have a sit-down with future Bucky about why he'd come back and what the hell they were going to do next.
Even with the uncertainty ahead of him, he smiled as he grabbed the Kimoyo comm bead from the top of the dresser and pocketed it, then headed to the door. He finally felt the stress and gloom of the past five years wash away. Bucky had saved the universe, and Steve couldn't have been prouder of his friend.
He pushed the door open, and the music became clear. He recognized the old tune immediately—Take the A Train by Duke Ellington. He followed it down the hall, around a corner, and into the kitchen. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Bucky was in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a black, short-sleeved T-shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and black-and-gold vibranium arm. He was hovering over a hot stove and stirring a large pan of scrambled eggs while he swung his shoulders and hips to the music. Several plates rested on the kitchen island, each one piled with food. One held a large stack of pancakes, another bacon and sausage, and a third offered biscuits and muffins. Empty grocery and bakery bags rested on a neighboring counter. On the coffee table a few feet away from the kitchen sat a brown satchel and, next to that, a rectangular transparent box with a dimly glowing energy source inside.
As the music took a turn, so did Bucky, spinning in front of the stove and then grabbing the pan and dumping the eggs onto the only empty platter on the kitchen island, using the spatula in rhythm to the music to scrape the pan.
Bucky looked up at him and grinned. "I figured you'd be up soon. I didn't want this to get cold."
Steve's jaw was slack as he stared at his friend. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was looking at the Bucky he knew in 1943. "What…" He shook his head. "What is all this?"
"Breakfast!" Bucky smiled brightly, still swinging to the music. "Okay, more like lunch since it's after noon." He leaned forward with a conspiratorial look and lowered his voice. "But who says you can't have pancakes for lunch?"
"Where did you get all this?"
"Grocery store. With the Blip, it was closed. I left Stark's name. Hopefully no one comes to arrest the other me for breaking in. That would be awkward. I did manage to find a bakery that was open and got us some fresh muffins. I figure everyone's earned a good meal, and I delivered quite a bit of food and bottled water to the tents." He smiled and spun as the music picked up tempo. "Do you remember this?" He gestured to the speakers in the ceiling. "I never could teach you how to swing dance. I certainly tried. You always tripped over the rock step trying to keep the beat." Bucky demonstrated a quick rock step and triple step, then spun around and turned off the stove as he set the pan back on the burner and tossed the spatula into the sink.
"I would pay to see that," Natasha's amused voice interrupted just as the song ended.
Sam and Clint arrived, Clint giving a stretch and a yawn as he surveyed the buffet and leaned against the counter. "What's all this?"
"Sit down," Bucky waved at the lounge area adjacent to the kitchen, complete with a small dining table, sofa, and chairs. "Take a load off. I'm the only one who didn't get pummeled by Thanos last night," he eyed Natasha. "Well, almost the only one, but you really took one for the team, so you get a day off, too."
She nodded her head gratefully.
The next song started overhead, and Bucky smiled. "Have you heard this one?" He eyed Steve. "Guy named Elvis. He's pretty good. Wasn't on your list, though." Bucky started dancing again as he grabbed plates and utensils and set them on the counter next to the food. "Man, music really took off in the 50s, huh? I missed it all because of, you know, Siberia—" He waved a hand in the air, "but I spent some time early this morning playing catch up." He spun around.
The Siberia comment stung for a moment, evoking an unpleasant image in Steve's brain that he'd tried to avoid focusing on ever since he realized Bucky was alive. The thought soon faded, however, as he watched his friend. He hadn't seen him so excited—so full of joy—since just before the war. This was the Bucky he knew, the one he really missed. This was the Bucky that made him laugh, looked out for him, and rolled with the punches. The one that, even when he was fighting off the bullies, rarely lost his temper and tended to treat them like a naughty younger brother needing guidance.
Steve looked around at his friends, and a warmth in his chest grew as he watched their reactions. It felt so damn good to have them see Bucky like this—the way he used to be before Hydra brutalized him. Natasha sat on the arm of the couch, a disbelieving smile on her face, as though she were trying to reconcile the Winter Soldier she'd encountered with the goofy guy dancing before her and working in the kitchen.
Clint leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head tilted, an amused smirk on his face. His eyes occasionally darted to Natasha, and he'd grin, then watch Bucky again.
Sam just stood behind the couch looking dumbfounded. When Steve caught his eye, the Falcon smiled and shook his head, then mouthed, 'Is he on something?' Steve shrugged and then shook his head. He was sure this Bucky wasn't high on anything—with the super soldier metabolism and healing abilities, neither of them could get drunk or high, at least not without much higher doses. Even then, it wouldn't last very long.
A mischievous grin broke on Bucky's face and he waggled his eyebrows at Steve, then abandoned his kitchen duties to dance an Elvis impression in the middle of the room.
When Elvis started singing, "Well, please don't ask me what's upon my mind, I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine," Bucky waved a hand at his head, then gave Steve a cocky look and put his arms out to the side to indicate the appropriateness of the lyrics to his unique situation.
Steve couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Even Clint gave a short chuckle, and Natasha grinned, almost giving into a laugh. Sam just studied Bucky as if he thought the whole thing might be a dream.
As the song wound to an end, Steve propped himself on the other arm of the couch and asked, "Did you get any sleep last night, Bucky?"
Bucky shook his head, "Nope, too wired. Took care of some stuff," he pointed to the transparent rectangular box on the coffee table and then swept his arm out to the buffet on the counter, "and ran down the musical rabbit hole. FRIDAY was very helpful in catching me up." He raised his voice and glanced the ceiling. "FRIDAY, play that Swing Jive Bunny song you recommended." He looked back at Steve. "One song, lots of the 50s, and a little swing. You gotta hear it."
The fast-paced song started playing, "Come on, everybody! Come on everybody!" then immediately shifted into Glen Miller's In the Mood. Bucky immediately went into the swing moves that Steve had seen him do so often on the dance floor while trying to impress a date.
Bucky spun closer to him and started on the fancy footwork he had been so good at. "Did you ever learn how to do this? Come on, don't tell me you still can't dance," he teased, grinning.
Steve laughed and shook his head, heat rising to his cheeks as the other Avengers eyed him with amusement.
"Yeah, Steve, come on, show us some of those 40s moves," Natasha prodded.
"Uh, no." He replied. "This was all your thing, Bucky."
Bucky gave a disappointed shake of his head. "I can't believe you never learned."
"I can dance," Steve countered.
"No, no, no," Bucky shook his head as the song moved into Rock Around the Clock and changed his steps. "Swaying back and forth to slow music doesn't count as dancing, man. You barely move your feet."
Natasha threw a grin at Steve and cocked her head. "He's actually pretty good."
Steve noticed her foot tapping to the rhythm and held back a smile. "Yeah, he always was. It's one reason he never had a problem getting a date back in the day."
Bucky cocked his head and gave a wink. "Just one of many."
Natasha finally chuckled and leaned toward Steve. "Wow, he's really full of himself right now."
Clint grabbed a plate and started piling on some pancakes and eggs. "Yeah, the guy saves one little universe, and he thinks he's all that and a bag of chips."
"Ah!" Thor walked into the kitchen, "So we celebrate with food and dance! Splendid!"
"Tony saved the Universe, I just saved Tony," Bucky spoke up, then he tilted his head and glanced at Natasha, "and a few others."
She responded with a smile and raised eyebrows.
Thor grabbed a plate and took the rest of the pancakes.
"There's another platter keeping warm in the oven, along with more eggs," Bucky announced, giving a spin to the music.
When the mash-up returned to Glen Miller's In the Mood, Bucky engaged some fancy footwork toward Steve. "It's a damn shame you have two left feet, man. I did my best to make you presentable on the dance floor for…"
"Your dates' friends," Steve finished with an amused shake of his head. It felt good to be needled by Bucky and to see him so alive and happy, as if the past 80 years hadn't happened.
His friend's enthusiasm was contagious, and with a bashful smile, Steve got to his feet. During the last few seconds of the song, he moved next to Bucky and did the footwork alongside him. His ribs and leg protested a bit, but even with his fresh injuries, he realized he did a pretty great job and didn't trip over his feet once.
When the song ended, Bucky beamed at him and gave him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. "I knew you had it in you, man. It only took 80 years and the super soldier serum, but I knew you had in you."
Natasha clapped. Thor and Clint joined in.
"Now, we eat!" Thor proclaimed, taking his dish to the small dining table.
Steve knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help the giddiness. He realized they had a lot to talk about with Bucky-from-the-future, but there was no denying the man standing a few inches away was James Buchanan Barnes, and it looked like he was doing okay…more than okay, which was unexpected considering the solemn, agonizing contents of the letter.
He pushed thoughts of the letter aside and reached out to pull Bucky into a firm hug. He took a few moments to indulge in having his friend back, feeling his heart beating and the breath moving in and out of his chest as Bucky leaned into him, arms coming around in a hold so strong, it almost took Steve's breath away. After a few moments, Steve extricated himself and pulled back, giving Bucky a long, solid look straight into his dark blue eyes.
Bucky's right hand came up and laid a good-natured open-handed shove on the side of Steve's face. "Go take a load off and eat, buddy. You look like road-kill."
"I will," Steve nodded and slid past Bucky.
He went to the oven and retrieved the extra platters of food, then piled an empty plate with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. As he made his way to the dining table, taking the last empty seat as he eyed Sam, Thor, and Clint, his eyes drifted to the window. He could see the tents scattered on the landscape. He needed to go check on the survivors and see how the Bucky from his time was doing.
"He's okay," Bucky said, grabbing a piece of bacon from the platter and taking a bite. "I took a pretty big hit from Thanos' ship, but in a couple of days, I was…he will be almost as good as new."
Natasha made her plate and sat on the couch as Bucky moved into the kitchen to get some cups.
"Who wants coffee? Orange juice?" he asked.
"You're just a real Mary Poppins," Sam commented around a bite of food.
"Hey, like I said earlier," Bucky replied. "I'm the only one who didn't get a beat-down by Thanos and his army last night, so I figure the least I can do is make breakfast. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam, and don't talk while chewing." He flashed a sardonic smile at the Falcon.
"Dying and coming back counts as a beat down," Steve said.
Bucky shrugged. "But the time stone made me good as new." He glanced at Steve. "Thanks for ruining my whole dramatic self-sacrifice, by the way."
"Anytime," Steve replied, then shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
Bucky scooped the mugs of four handles in one hand, then grabbed the coffee pot and brought it to the table, setting them all down in the center. "Since none of you ingrates answered me, you can help yourselves." He looked up at Natasha. "You?"
She waved him off. "I'll get some coffee in a bit."
Bucky nodded and made himself a plate, then poured a glass of orange juice and ate at the counter.
Steve sat in silent gratitude as his gaze wandered over the people in the room. There were a few moments last night when he'd almost given up hope of a victory. Then, Bucky had come along. From what the letter had said, last night almost ended tragically. This day had no doubt been more painful—having lost Tony and Natasha—and mourning them both while dealing with the aftermath of the reconstitution of half the universe's population.
He heard footsteps padding down the hall. A moment later, Wanda appeared. Her eyes went to the food, and she smiled softly. "Who made breakfast?"
Thor raised his coffee mug to Bucky. "The man from the future!" Then, he gulped the coffee and threw the mug onto the floor, grinning when it shattered into several small pieces. "Ah, it feels good to do that again."
"Thanks. You can just call me Bucky. We didn't get to chat much the first time around."
"Indeed, there was little time for conversation in Wakanda" The Asgardian nodded. "We owe you a great debt for your willingness to sacrifice your life. You are a brave man."
Bucky smiled, but Steve noticed he seemed suddenly uncomfortable. A bit of his earlier mirth had started to drain, but his eyes still had a joyful glint. "Uh…thanks."
Wanda grabbed a plate and looked across the counter at Bucky. "Good morning."
"Good afternoon," he replied.
She turned around, the plate of food in her hand. "Have any of you watched the news this morning?"
Steve shook his head. "No."
"Most of us just woke up," Sam added.
Wanda glanced up at the ceiling. "FRIDAY, play the news."
An almost invisible screen in the wall near the kitchen sprang to life. Chaotic images flashed one after the other on the screen—a mother hugging a child, a bald eagle soaring, cars swerving to avoid pedestrians who rematerialized out of thin air.
"The battle at the Avengers complex appears to have been ground zero for a new day with dramatic worldwide implications." The image of a female newscaster came on. "The sudden re-appearance of the The Vanished has brought the globe to a standstill. We're just now learning the implications of whatever events caused the phenomenon. The Earth appears to have gotten a new lease on life. Scientists measuring climate conditions have indicated that atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases have plummeted, effectively bringing about a reversal of climate change. Marine scientists have noted a complete removal of all plastics and trash in the planet's oceans. Mercury levels have also dropped dramatically. In short, the damage caused to the planet's air, water, and soil by human industrial activity has been abruptly and mysteriously reversed. States particularly impacted by climate change have already seen improvements. Rain graced several California communities early this morning, bringing much-needed relief to drought-stricken farmers and providing some hope that the changes to our climate will be long-lasting and ease the state's wildfire troubles."
Steve watched in awe as the images on the screen switched again to show rain covering California farmlands, a humpback whale breaching in ocean waters, and, finally, a shot of Icelandic glaciers. He tore his gaze away and looked at Bucky, then realized all other eyes were also on the man currently slouched against the counter munching on a piece of bacon.
Bucky swallowed and gave a sheepish glance around the room. "I guess it worked."
"Climate change?" Sam asked incredulously.
Bucky took a sip of his orange juice, then shrugged one shoulder. "I made a list in advance." He sighed. "The clean air and water probably won't last long, but we get a reprieve on climate change…at least for another century or so, right?"
Steve could hardly believe what he was seeing and hearing. It was like a dream. Not only had Bucky managed to destroy Thanos and his army, bring back Natasha and dozens of others, but he'd also somehow had time to reverse climate change and clean up the planet.
"What else did you do?" Wanda asked, but there was a note of sadness in her voice.
Steve recognized the grief behind her words. His heart ached for her. He understood the pain of that kind of loss.
Bucky apparently did, too, because he lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at her. "I'm sorry. He was on my list. I didn't have time before…"
She offered a soft smile. "It's okay. Thank you for trying."
Clint cleared his throat. "So, um, what else did you do?"
Bucky took a breath and straightened, then immediately slouched back against the kitchen sink. "I guess we'll have to see. Things I didn't get to were Vision, some of the others who died in Wakanda during the first battle…" his voice trailed off. "I couldn't hold out long enough."
Steve closed his eyes briefly, remembering how he's slipped the glove from Bucky's hand, hoping, somehow, that his friend hadn't been too far gone to save…even though he'd known it was futile. "I removed the gauntlet."
Bucky nodded. "I thought I felt it slip off." He gave a tiny smile, his eyes flickering to Steve. "I think I was pretty much gone, then, anyway. It wouldn't have made any difference."
"So, uh…" Natasha intruded hesitantly, "what's with the tents?"
Bucky sucked in a breath as if his mind were suddenly switching gears, then straightened and looked at her. "I don't know." He started putting some of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "I didn't mean to that, or this," he waved at the room around him. He paused over the open dishwasher and looked at Steve again. "You remember the trek over Austria back to base camp?"
Steve nodded. It wasn't something he'd likely forget. It had been long, grueling, and dangerous. Bucky and the others had already been in rough shape after their imprisonment, but somehow, they'd made it…most of them.
"Well, my mind went there, you know, life flashing before my eyes, I guess. I remembered how amazing it felt to walk into the allied camp and have a soft place to land."
Steve knew exactly where Bucky's mind had gone. "So you knew we had injured and resurrected people who'd need a soft place to land, and you pictured the tents of the base camp?"
"It wasn't a conscious decision." Bucky put a couple of the pans into the open dishwasher. "Folks needed a place to recuperate, and I guess whatever went through my brain was enough to manifest all this." He waved another hand in the air, then took a shaky breath. "I just hope my messed-up brain didn't subconsciously manifest any unpleasant surprises."
Well, there was a thought, Steve pondered darkly. If that was the case, they'd deal with it when it came. As he watched Bucky load the dishwasher, he noticed the other man's movements getting slower, his shoulders slouching a bit more, and the mirth drifting from his face. Whatever natural high Bucky had been feeling was obviously beginning to give way to exhaustion.
"I have to go check on…well…the younger you." Steve rose to his feet, grimacing slightly at the painful tug in his ribs and the protest from his injured leg. "Why don't you let us finish the clean-up and you go get some rest?"
"Sure," Bucky replied, and his quick acquiescence was all the confirmation Steve needed that the other man was starting to hit the proverbial wall of exhaustion.
"Speaking of your younger self," Sam piped up from the table, "we gotta figure out what to call you. We can't be calling you Bucky and our Bucky Bucky."
Steve chuckled inwardly. It was getting awkward and confusing. As the news continued to play on the screen, Steve absently eyed the images of post-Blip reality and thought how much like a dream all this sometimes felt.
"How about James?" Natasha offered.
Bucky shook his head quickly. "No. Too formal and it always makes me feel like I'm in trouble." He scrunched his face at Steve playfully. "Besides, it would be weird hearing you call me James."
Steve agreed. The name wouldn't feel comfortable coming off his tongue. "What then? We have to figure out different ways to refer to you two."
"Well, how about you call the younger me Buck and the older, wiser me, Bucky?"
Sam chuckled. "Because you're older, you get the longer name...Is that it?"
Bucky turned to look at Sam and threw him a sarcastic grin, then patted Steve on the shoulder. "I think I'll go take you up on that offer and get some rest."
Steve gave Bucky an approving nod just before he saw the older couple come through the door, their footsteps barely discernible over the noise from the television and the distant, muffled hum of activity from the reporters and tents outside.
When Bucky turned, he almost ran straight into Howard Stark. He jumped back, slamming so hard into the edge of the refrigerator's door that it caved a little from the force. Maria was directly behind Stark, and she flinched slightly at Bucky's reaction. The utter surprise from Bucky once again gave Steve a clue about how exhausted he must be. It wasn't easy to sneak up on the super soldier.
Bucky stood frozen, pinning himself against the refrigerator door, his eyes wide and almost, Steve thought…terrified? The silence from the other Avengers made the sound of the television suddenly seem louder.
"Sergeant Barnes." Howard nodded at Bucky.
Bucky stared at him but didn't say a word.
"Oh, hey, there," Tony limped in, his voice light and care-free even though he looked a little worse for the wear after last night, but his words were quick as usual. "Did we spring this on you?" He slid past Howard and slapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Good job with climate change and the oceans, by the way." Tony pointed to the newscast. "Anyway, my fault. Sorry. I should've given you a heads up that Mom and Dad wanted to see you."
Bucky looked at Tony as if he had grown a second head.
Steve didn't like the wild-eyed look of trepidation in Bucky's eyes, and a sudden wave of protectiveness filled him. "Hey, Tony, maybe now's not the best time."
Howard walked up to Steve and gave him a grin. "Hey, Cap, it's damn good to see you." He looked him up and down, and then gave the room a once-over "Where's the shield?"
"Hello, Howard. It's good to see you, too. Thanos got the better of it, unfortunately."
"Damn, shame."
"It served me well."
Steve kept an eye on Bucky. The other man's gaze drifted from Tony to Howard and flicked almost furtively every few seconds to Maria. She stared at him, her right hand absently going to the pearls around her neck. Steve noticed the subtle way Bucky shifted to bring his vibranium arm behind his back, out of sight.
Howard turned back around to face Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, Tony brought us up to speed about what Hydra did to you, and the fact that Maria and I are here right now, alive, getting a chance to meet our granddaughter."
Bucky's brow furrowed in obvious confusion. Whatever he was expecting from the Starks, Steve guessed it hadn't been that. Slowly, Bucky's shoulders began to relax, but his eyes still revealed the depths of his discomfort.
"I'm sorry to hear what they did to you. Rogers was devastated after he came back from that mission. We all were." Howard extended a hand to him. "But I'm glad you survived, and I'd like to thank you. If things had happened differently, we never would have lived long enough to meet Morgan."
Bucky stared at the hand as if it might sprout fangs and bite him. After a few seconds, he looked over Howard's shoulder at Maria. She managed a somewhat shaky smile.
Slowly, Bucky extended his right hand and clasped Howard's, giving it a hesitant shake. "You don't need to thank me. I want to thank you…for flying Steve behind enemy lines. If you hadn't, none of us would have made it out." He swallowed hard, his eyes starting to glisten, and he shifted on his feet as he dropped his hand away from Howard. "I…I'm, uh…"
"No need to say anymore." The elder Stark smiled. "We're going to be working on a way to get you home, son. Banner and I have been at it most of the night while Tony got patched up by the Wakandans." He shook his head. "Their technology puts anything I ever dreamed up to shame."
Bucky simply offered a grateful nod. He swallowed and took a breath. "Howard, I…uh…"
"I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your face that night, but if you're about to apologize, don't. You've got nothing to apologize for, Sergeant." He looked at Steve again and smiled. "Cap. I'll leave you be for now. We have another video chat with our granddaughter. Maria's going to be leaving in a couple of hours to go meet her in person." He put a hand on his wife's shoulder, and they turned toward the door.
"Howard?"
Bucky's voice stopped the elder Stark, and he turned back to look at Bucky. "Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"
"What…Um, Whatever happened to the flying cars?"
Howard looked confused, obviously taken aback by the question. "What?"
Bucky tilted his head. "1943, World Exposition of Tomorrow. You said a few years." A hint of a smile touched his lips. "It's been over 80, and we still don't have flying cars."
Howard laughed. "You were there?"
"Yes, sir…Last night before I shipped off."
The older Stark leaned in and slapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Military contracts and all that."
Tony was finishing off a piece of bacon when he interjected. "You want flying cars?" He snapped his fingers. "Done! I'll get you a flying car. Whatever you want. Anything you need," he walked up to his father and gave Bucky a light tap on the arm, "you just let me know."
Bucky seemed dumbfounded by Tony's offer. "I…I don't need a flying car…although…it would be useful in Brooklyn." He gave a tired smile. "Right now, I'll just settle for a few hours of sleep."
"You've earned it." Tony eyed the transparent box on the table, then veered off toward it, pointing at the object. "Is this what I think it is? Oh, please be a time travel thingamajig."
Bucky nodded. "The time travel device. There's a platform that pairs with it that's downstairs. The tablet that operates it is in the pack."
"Got it." Tony eyed the spread of food. "You make all this?"
Bucky nodded again.
"Well, that explains the call I got from Bellaru Grocery this morning. Did you raid half the store?"
"I brought enough for everyone." He gestured toward the windows and the tents outside.
Tony nodded approvingly. "Good thinking. Thanks for this, too, by the way." He waved at the ceiling. "Would've taken forever to rebuild, not to mention costing a small fortune. You saved me hundreds of millions of dollars…I'm not sure insurance covers alien attack."
Steve smiled, understanding the subtext of Tony's comment regarding the price of the complex after Bucky's almost apologetic explanation for using slightly illegal methods for obtaining food and supplies and sending the bill to Stark.
Tony grabbed another piece of bacon. "FRIDAY, tell Banner and Rhodes to get up here if they want to eat." Tony popped the bacon in his mouth and reached down to pick up the transparent box. He held it up and studied it for a moment, then shrugged. "Here I thought I was super awesome cracking time travel, and it turns out, you can't throw a dime without hitting one." He looked at Barnes. "Where'd this come from?"
"Siberia….At the facility where I was kept."
Tony frowned. "Didn't we destroy that?"
"We pretty much did, yes."
"Well, in all fairness, it was mostly me doing the destroying." Tony looked up at his mother and father and waved them off. "Dad, Mom, I'll catch up with you."
Steve noticed the hesitant glance Maria gave Bucky and could only imagine what she must be thinking. The fact that she hadn't said anything spoke more than any words could, and Steve hoped Tony was being sensitive to how overwhelming this must all be for his mother. Howard Stark had known him and Bucky back in the 40s, but she hadn't. She never signed up for any of the craziness that had come her way. Howard put a hand on her shoulder and, with a final look at Tony, Steve, and then Bucky, walked out with his wife.
"So, where's the food?" Banner asked as he arrived, glancing back down the hall at what Steve assumed was Howard and Maria.
James Rhodes was right behind him and followed the scientist into the kitchen. Steve immediately noticed Rhodes' legs. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but his legs were free, with no tell-tale blue lights indicating robotic braces beneath the fabric. Steve couldn't help but smile and be impressed by just how much Bucky had been able to accomplish during his brief time with the infinity stones.
Rhodes immediately spotted Bucky as Banner grabbed a plate and starting piling what remained of the food on it. The scientist made his way to the dining table and plopped in the seat Steve formerly occupied, saying a brief "hello" to Thor, Clint, and Sam. Wanda sank onto the sofa near Natasha.
"Hey, man," Rhodes walked casually up to Bucky and eyed him for a few seconds, then gestured at his legs. "I understand I have you to thank for this?"
Bucky gave a quick shake of his head, a humility in his eyes that Steve had always admired, even back in Brooklyn when his friend did his best to play it cocky. "You don't owe me any thanks." He clenched his jaw. "What happened to you was because of me. I just…fixed it."
"Nooooo," Rhodes said with exaggerated emphasis, "what happened to me was because of Tony." He shot an apologetic smile Tony's way, but Stark seemed to take the comment well, waving a hand and nodding.
Rhodes looked at Steve, holding his gaze for a few seconds. Steve recognized the apology behind the look. A lot had happened over the past couple of years. With Thanos, they hadn't really had a chance to officially patch things up.
"And me, actually," Rhodes turned his attention back to Bucky. "Look, the Accords screwed things up. Turns out, Rogers was right about Siberia, Vienna, and you. We had one grainy, crappy photo to go on and no hard evidence, and we didn't want to listen to what Rogers was trying to tell us. Security was an embarrassment because Zemo gained access to you with almost nothing more than a stolen security badge." He sighed and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm sorry. If we'd stopped to listen, things might have turned out differently."
"OBVIOUSLY!" Tony interjected. "We wouldn't have walked into Zemo's trap so blindly, and maybe I wouldn't have tried to kill you. Maybe." Tony walked up to Bucky and stopped in front of him. "I owe you an apology, too, you know, for trying to kill you, and for the arm." He waved at Bucky's vibranium one.
Bucky shook his head. "Zemo has a way of knowing what buttons to push on people."
Tony continued. "Doesn't matter. Let's be honest. I tried to murder you. A good old-fashioned assassination. I knew you weren't to blame. I'm a smart guy, right? I knew it, but I didn't care. I wanted revenge, and I would've killed you. I almost killed Cap," he threw a quick gesture Steve's way. "I wasn't trying to kill him, of course, but I certainly did a number on him. I didn't listen to him. He…" Tony's voice broke for a second, and he looked away, his eyes momentarily going to the news screen, but not focusing on it. "He practically begged me to stop, and I didn't listen. I would have killed you right in front of him."
Steve's injured leg suddenly felt weak, and he dropped onto the arm of the sofa. He noticed the sympathetic look from Natasha, but suddenly he was back in the bunker, kneeling in front of Bucky, looking up at Stark and pleading with him.
'He's my friend.'
'So was I.'
"And, well, turns out, I was wrong. I was not only wrong, I was…" Tony shook his head. "I had some time in the Bunker, did a bit of recon, digging into what was left of their files. I saw some of what they did to you—"
Steve noticed the sudden shift in Bucky's expression. What had Tony seen? Why had he never reached out to Steve about it after Berlin? Steve rose to his feet, feeling something had just taken a very wrong turn.
"—It gave me a fresh set of nightmares I could've done without, but it also made me understand in a way I couldn't before just how little choice you had in anything. You were a victim, and I was just another guy adding to—"
Bucky took a few steps backward toward the counter. "What did you see?"
Tony stopped talking and looked at Bucky. Steve rose to his feet closer. Whatever humility or mirth had been on Bucky's face earlier was gone, replaced by something dark and wounded. Tony seemed to notice the change, too, because he suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Rhodes must have, too, because he eyed Tony and said, "Um, I'm going to check on the reporters and tents outside," and made a quiet, hasty exit.
Everyone else in the room had grown silent. Only the sound of the television filled the room for several seconds.
Tony cleared his throat and glanced down at the floor for a moment, looking uncharacteristically hesitant before he looked back up at Bucky. "Some garden variety stuff. It was all old footage, nothing recent, but…" He took a deep breath. "A few minutes of a medical diary on the surgery to attach the arm from the 40s, one of your first sessions in…the chair they used to," Tony waved a hand toward his head, then paused and took another breath, this time slow and deep. He held the silence for a few seconds, before continuing. "And one from 1949…the young woman, in the hospital gown, that they wanted you to…"
Bucky reached his left hand out to the kitchen island as if to steady himself. Muscles in his jaw clenched.
"I didn't know what I was going to see," Tony explained. "I was just gathering information."
The edge of the countertop broke under Bucky's grip, the granite crumbling. Bucky glanced down at the damage, and kept his gaze lowered. His voice matched in volume. "You…shouldn't have…"
Steve couldn't hold back any longer. "What footage?" He took a few steps toward Stark.
Bucky's head snapped up. "No! No, you aren't watching it. No one has a right to watch that kind of thing done to another human being against her—" He gulped a breath, "—our consent." Bucky opened his hand and the granite chunks clattered to the floor. His chest heaved in quick, shallow bursts.
Steve started toward Bucky, but Tony was closer and moved quickly to Bucky's side.
"Hey, hey," Tony placed a tentative hand on Bucky's arm. "I know what this is. Feels like you're having a heart attack, right? I've been there. Sit for a moment."
Bucky pulled away from Stark, then moved wordlessly to the armchair and plopped himself down. He leaned forward, taking in a few deep gulps of air, and ran his fingers through his short hair, his right hand trembling.
Natasha spoke in a low voice as she leaned toward Bucky. "If it's what I think it is, it's a horrific but effective tactic they use. You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for."
Bucky dropped his arms, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. He stared at Stark, his gaze almost accusatory. "Who else saw it?"
Tony crossed his arms uncomfortably in front of him. "Secretary Ross. I'm not sure who else."
Bucky closed his eyes. His jaw twitched.
"Look, say the word, and I'll get into their servers and make sure every copy I can find is destroyed," Tony promised.
"The word." Bucky said, opening his eyes to look directly at Stark.
Tony's gaze was firm and his voice low and serious when he answered. "Consider it done."
Bucky gave a clipped nod, then launched himself out of the chair and headed back into the kitchen. He opened a lower cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and twisted off the cap.
Steve eyed Sam and the others quickly, catching the concern in their eyes. Clint watched Bucky particularly closely, a distant, knowing pain behind his blue eyes.
Steve wished he knew of a way to help his friend, but how could anything reverse 80 years of Hydra brutality? "You can't get drunk. Believe me, I tried after you fell from the train."
Bucky raised the bottle in the air and gave Steve a dark look. "Maybe you just didn't try hard enough, man." Then he tilted the bottle and drained half of it in a few seconds before lowering it and taking it with him as he sank back into the armchair. He quickly downed another long drink, then looked at Stark. "You said anything I need?" He tilted the bottle toward him, then set it down on edge of the coffee table. "I haven't gotten drunk since 1943. How about something a whole lot stronger?"
Tony nodded. "I used to have a bottle of 192 proof Spirytus Vodka around here somewhere. If it's still here, it's yours. FRIDAY, get more of it here by the end of the day."
"Procuring it now," came the feminine, Irish voice.
Steve sank onto the end of the sofa near Bucky and gave Tony a reproachful look. "This won't help.
Bucky tilted his head back against the chair and gazed up at the ceiling. "Maybe not, but it sure as hell won't hurt."
Steve brushed a hand over his face. Whatever footage Tony had seen must have been bad. It was one thing to know, on an intellectual level, that Hydra tortured and brutalized Bucky, but actually seeing it… He tried not to think about what Tony might have seen, but he couldn't help but wonder which was worse, his imagination or the reality?
Steve rose to his feet and walked to the window, peering down at the tents. The Bucky from his timeline was down there, facing the same demons and doing a bang-up job of putting on a stoic face. Things had all happened so fast, that he hadn't had the chance to spend any real one-on-one time with his old friend. After all these decades… he'd found out Bucky was alive, and it had all just been one fight after another.
He really needed to go check on the younger Buck, but he wanted to keep an eye on the older Bucky before he decided to work his way through another bottle of liquor. Steve withdrew the Kimoyo bead, flicked a finger over it, and placed it face-up in his palm like Shuri had shown him. A holographic image sprang to life. He saw Shuri from the side, and she glanced up at him as she continued working on something off hologram.
"Hello, Captain Rogers," she greeted with a quick nod. "Perhaps you can convince him to stay put a little longer?"
"How is he?"
"Irritating." She smiled at someone off hologram.
Steve smiled. "Can I talk to him?"
The image flickered for a moment, and then Buck's battered, bearded face emerged.
"Hey, Steve," he said, with a slight breathlessness and crease between his eyes that betrayed his pain, "what's going on with….you know?"
Steve wasn't quite sure how to answer that question given how the morning was going, especially since the older Bucky was within earshot. Things had started off so well, but he wasn't sure where Bucky's head was at the moment. "It's been interesting. Banner and the Starks are trying to figure out a way to get him back to his timeline. How are you doing?"
Buck offered a slight smile. "Better. I don't need to be here. I was just about to head up."
Steve wasn't sure that was a good idea, but he needed to see Buck in person and have a private chat with Shuri. "Stay. I'm heading down in a few minutes." He closed his fist around the bead and stuffed it back into his pocket.
He glanced back at the group and noticed that everyone was trying their best to appear preoccupied with something else. Clint, Banner, and Thor were engaged in conversation at the dining table. Tony was leaning against the counter, intently studying the time travel device in his hand, as if, by staring at it, he could unlock its secrets. Natasha and Wanda were conversing quietly on the couch. The news continued to play in the background, and Steve saw an external shot of the Avenger's compound with the tents and a "LIVE" notation at the bottom of the screen.
Bucky was still on the couch, his gaze remaining fixed on the ceiling, but his chest rose and fell at a slow, steady pace. Steve hoped that meant Bucky was finally surrendering to sleep—even if partly induced by the copious amounts of whiskey he'd downed.
Steve walked up to Tony, making sure to keep his next words low, hoping the sound of the television would mask them. "How bad was it?"
Tony's gaze flickered away. "Bad." He paused for a long moment, eyeing Bucky and then finally looking back at Steve.
Steve heard Natasha's footsteps, and she stopped alongside him. "Some subjects can be particularly difficult to condition. I assume the serum made Bucky's brain more resistant to the traditional methods and the electrostimulation, which is why they kept having to do it. Just a guess. But there's a technique to eliminate a subject's barriers to killing on command." She looked at Tony.
Stark nodded.
"What technique?" Steve knew Stark was holding back out of deference to Bucky, and the remarkableness of that sudden loyalty wasn't lost on Steve, but Bucky's life was on the line. In less than a year, it looked like his friend's demons would catch up to him enough to drive him to a suicide mission.
He had to stop that from happening, and the only way he knew to do that was to know what he was dealing with. "I need to know. He came here to die, and that means that the Buck from our time needs help, or in less than a year, we might lose him."
Stark took a deep breath. "They…Look, I'll give you the gist, but if you want the dirty details, you'll have to get it from him, and I'm only telling you this so you can help him. You're the only one who's really been able to so far, outside of the Wakandans, and I'm sorry I didn't make it easy for you."
Steve shook his head. It was time they put the past two years behind him.
Tony took another breath and continued, his words hurried, as though that were the only way he could get through them—like ripping off a band-aid. "He was in a room, his metal arm and legs restrained, and they took serious measures on that arm. It wasn't the one he had in 2014. It must have been the initial model. They brought in a girl and told him to kill her. He refused. They tortured her in front of him, did a number on him, too, and he fought hard, believe that about your friend. He fought. Hell, he even took the gun and turned it on himself at one point, but they'd made provisions for that, too."
Steve grabbed the edge of the counter with that revelation. Bucky had tried to end his life before, but Hydra hadn't let him. Steve tried to reconcile the fact that he was glad Hydra kept Bucky from ending his own life, even knowing the decades of misery he'd experience afterward. Death would have been a blessing, but then Bucky would've died without having a chance at a real life. At least now, if they could help him, Bucky might have a shot at a normal life.
Finally…" Tony's breath caught in his chest. It was obvious that the memory was almost too much for him. "Well, he put her out of her misery. She was in pieces by that point, too far gone. By that time, they'd worked him over so much that I think they almost lost him. A doctor shot him up with something. When he came to, he was…crazed…." Tony shook his head, his gaze going to Bucky, who appeared to be asleep in the chair. "The restraints didn't budge, but his shoulder did. He ripped the arm off to break free."
Jesus. Steve closed his eyes at that gruesome image.
"Before he bled out," Tony added, "He managed to kill the lead guy. Obviously, they saved him. From the damage, I assume that's why the replacement arm is attached so far into the side of his chest.
Steve tried to quell the anger that rose in him. They'd had to carve out torn flesh to attach a new arm.
He felt Natasha's hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Steve. The depths of their brutality sometimes still astonishes me. What they did, they did to condition him to kill on command. If they followed the protocol, then she wasn't the first. They did it over and over again, bringing in dissidents and enemies that they needed to get rid of, until he realized that, by resisting, he was only condemning them to a longer, more painful death. At that point, he'd kill whoever they put in front of him on the first command, and eventually, without hesitation. That would have been a critical stage of his conditioning."
"And that was in 1949," Steve whispered, feeling gut-punched. Hydra had captured Bucky in 1944. "It took them five years to get to that point. What did they do him before that?"
"Don't go down that rabbit hole, Steve," Natasha warned, giving his arm a squeeze. "Believe me. No good comes from it."
A muted grunt and the rustle of fabric yanked Steve's attention back to Bucky. He was sitting upright in the chair, wide-eyed and breathing fast. Steve recognized the look on his face. He'd seen it before several times during the war, and a couple of times in Wakanda. Bucky had had a doozy of a nightmare. Wanda was closest to him, a startled look on her face that instantly faded to sympathy.
Steve was there in an instant, dropping down on the empty couch cushion. "You okay?"
Bucky eyed him furtively and nodded once, making a pathetic attempt at a smile that somehow landed sad on his face. His gaze darted around the room. All three men at the table had noticed and were staring unabashedly, but when his gaze met theirs, they suddenly became engrossed in conversation.
Smooth, guys, Steve berated silently, then looked back at Bucky. Bags puffed beneath his red-rimmed eyes. The alcohol and fatigue had obviously made an impact. He needed rest—solid rest. "Why don't you go get some sleep?"
Bucky sighed and relaxed into the chair. "That's not going to happen for some time, believe me." He sounded drained.
Steve was torn. He really needed to talk to Shuri and check on the Buck from his timeline on the grounds below, but he hated to leave the older Bucky. All he needed was five minutes.
"Can you hang out here for a few minutes?" He asked Bucky.
Bucky gave an insulted grimace and nodded. "What the hell? Yeah. Get out of here and do what you need to."
Steve smiled at that reaction. "I'm going to head down to check on things and see how the other you is doing," Steve announced, getting to his feet again and catching Tony's eye.
He trusted all his friends to keep an eye out for the wayward time traveler, but in light of recent events, Steve figured Tony was particularly motivated. Stark gave him an affirming nod, and Steve hurried out of the room.
-0- -0- -0-
Shuri smiled at Yama as the Dora Milaje hopped off the recovery table. "Good as new, see?"
Yama nodded at her and, without another word, grabbed the vibranium spear and slipped out of the tent.
Buck sat on the edge of his recovery table and tried not to seem impatient. Although his leg and side still ached, nothing was critical. He wanted to leave and find a shower and a change of clothes. With everything that had happened, he hadn't had a chance to process recent events. He wasn't sure he could process them in any way that would make sense. If he thought too hard about any of it, his already refurbished mind might meltdown beyond repair.
In Wakanda, for a brief moment, he thought he could finally put war behind him. When he first came out of cryo, everything in Wakanda had been so overwhelming—from the technology that seemed more like magic to the nightmares, flashbacks, and excruciating reconstruction of a mind he wasn't even sure would be worth anything in the end.
Yet, he'd received more kindness in Wakanda than he ever had before. Shuri had known what he needed, even when he hadn't—a peaceful plot of land away from the overwhelming. No technology. No wars. No weapons. No missions. Just land, air, soil, animals, and water.
Then, T'Challa presented him with a vibranium arm and told him the fight was coming. The next thing he knew, he was staring down an enormous alien armada and fighting alongside a talking raccoon.
Aliens. From outer space.
And they weren't in flying saucers or from Mars. They were from much farther away and they were like nothing he could have ever imagined. That was the second time he'd found himself fighting a war that he lost.
At least this time, they won the battle—thanks to his future self. That fact was yet one more entry in the book of bizarre he had yet to process. On top of everything, he wasn't even sure whether he was still a wanted man.
Suddenly, the tent flap parted and an instantly recognizable figure in jeans and a white T-shirt entered. In a world that was new, strange, and almost incomprehensible, the comfort provided by the deep familiarity of the man walking up to him was almost painful in its intensity.
"Hey, Steve."
Steve broke into a wide grin and walked up to him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "How're you doing, Buck?"
"About as good as can be expected, considering the end of the world just came and went." He softened his words with a crooked smile and tried to keep the edge of pain out of his voice. He'd been hiding his pain from Steve for so long, it had become an automatic response. "How's the other…uh, me?"
"About as good as can be expected considering," Steve parroted back, then turned and looked at Shuri, who was hovering in front of a holographic display that appeared to be the inside of another tent, with a patient on a recovery table and a man in a white lab coat standing over him.
Shuri glanced at him as she ended the holographic display. "Hello, Captain Rogers."
"Thank you for all this," Steve waved a hand around. "You and the other Wakandan medical personnel have made the difference between life and death for a lot of wounded."
She bowed her head slightly. "The war may have been won, but many still battle for their lives. It is our duty to do everything we can to ensure they do not lose."
"We're all grateful. How is he?" Steve jerked a chin in his direction.
Buck raised his eyebrows at being talked about like he wasn't in the room.
"His physical wounds will heal completely."
Buck hopped off the table, grabbing his jacket and making a determined effort not to wince at the pain that shot up his tibia. "Can I get out of here now?"
"In a moment," Steve gave him a firm look.
"You may be a Captain, Steve, but I'm not in the army, anymore." He was beginning to wonder why everyone was so determined to keep him in a tent. "Is there something you don't want me to find out about my future self? What? Am I a basket case, or an asshole, or something?"
Steve smiled and turned to face him. "I'm not trying to keep you from meeting yourself." He grimaced at the obvious awkwardness of that sentence. "I just need a moment with Shuri, then we'll go up together."
Buck nodded as Steve caught Shuri's eye again and headed toward the tent flap. She gave Buck a look that he interpreted as a command to stay put and then followed Steve outside.