AN: Another borrowed quote in here, this time from 'The Avengers' movie. And also, for those of you unfamiliar with the Night Angel series, think of Wade's ka'kari as an equivalent to his little boxes. (Snarky ka'kari is fun!)

When Winter Strikes

8. It's Complicated

The silence was uncomfortable for all of three seconds, after which Sharon snorted and shook her head. "No, Father. This is Baron James Buchanan Barnes."

James took that as his cue, smiling and offering his hand. "Captain. It's good to meet you."

Captain Rogers took his hand blindly, jaw still slightly slack. "So, you're not…"

"Uh…"

"Steve? A word please?" Lady Rogers intervened, a firm hand on her husband's arm. The Captain blinked himself out of his trance, looking hard once more into James' face before being pushed away by his wife. "Excuse us," she said apologetically, and left James with her daughter.

Sure they were out of earshot, he turned to Sharon and asked, quite bluntly, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

She shrugged. "A childhood friend of his. Father always talks about him, even though Mother and I have heard the stories hundreds of times."

"Do you know why he thought it was me?"

Tipping her head sideways, Sharon said, "Maybe he thought you look like him."

James disguised his relief, thanking the One God that it wasn't anything to do with the Barnes name. "Will he be okay?" he asked instead. "He seems a little shaken-up."

"Mother will deal with him. She always does."

"I can imagine."

"A lot of people say I'm like her," Sharon said, angling her body towards him. "That I've got her hair. And her eyes."

Nodding absently, a thought suddenly struck James. "Was 'Bucky' a nickname?"

"I don't know, I never asked," she answered shortly.

"It has to be," he murmured to himself. "Noblemen wouldn't give themselves common names like that."

"Listen," the young girl said sharply, standing straight and settling her hands on her hips. "My father seems to think he knows you, My Lord, and now you're clearly hooked on the details yourself. So if you do know him, playing games and pretending you have no clue about the topic is highly inappropriate. And so is feigning interest."

Stunned a little by the sudden display of protectiveness, James blinked at Sharon for a long moment. "Uh, no, that's not –"

"Is everything alright?" The return of Captain and Lady Rogers surprised both of them, but as Sharon guiltily relaxed her stance James smiled easily.

"The Lady Sharon was just saying that many people have commented on the similarities between mother and daughter, Lady Rogers," he said. Looking back at Sharon, whose cheeks were now coloured with a notable flush, he nodded faintly. "I can see what they mean, now."

Lady Rogers' eyes flicked between them both before declaring that she and Sharon were going to mingle. They parted with her sending the Captain a meaningful look (and Sharon sneaking one more of James), one that was returned with a simple dip of the head. He turned back to James, and it was easy to see the embarrassment written all over his face. "Please forgive my behaviour earlier, Lord Barnes," he began. "What I called you –"

"Was a mistake," James said, easily cutting him off. "There's no need to apologise, Captain. Lady Sharon explained things; we've all made similar errors here, I'm sure."

Captain Rogers chuckled. "As generous as that is it still doesn't make me feel any less of a fool."

"Regardless, I wouldn't treat you as one, My Lord."

There was a pause, where the Captain looked grateful before picking up the conversation. "Peggy says you're new to the city, relatively speaking. I understand you've been travelling a bit?"

James laughed. "If by 'a bit' you mean all my life, then yes."

"Where have you been?"

Their discussion took them most of the evening, only pausing during dinner, when they were separated by the seating plan, and flowed exceptionally easily, James thought. It started with his Barnes backstory, and him giving out false anecdotes from the various cities he'd visited. The ones that Lord Rogers was unfamiliar with he described instead, working around the ugly memories that hindered his focus and sticking to general features of architecture, city customs, landscape, and sometimes the people. The closer cities Lord Rogers was familiar with, but as he explained to James he had only started travelling somewhat recently with the army, when King Odin promoted him to head of a special division who called themselves The Invaders. He talked about them once the feast was over, and the two were walking back towards the Barnes estate beneath the stars.

"Our speciality is Khalidoran camps. The King's spies send us word whenever one pops up in surrounding territories, and it's our job to eliminate them without causing too much of a scene. Before that, I was a… morale officer, if you like. I – I'm not sure I was very good."

James smirked, envisaging a horde of soldiers trying to laugh with Captain Rogers rather than at him. "Well these Invaders of yours must think you're worth something if they don't mind chasing wytches and Meisters with you."

Lord Rogers laughed. "Yes, I suppose." Then his expression faltered, and he sent a sideways glance at James. "Bucky would have said something similar, I think."

He thought back to the Captain's shock at first seeing him, the way Sharon had described this Bucky, and the comment made just now. "You haven't seen your friend in a long time, have you?"

The Captain shook his head. "I'm a little like you," he said. "I'm not what you'd call native to the Cenarian nobility. I actually grew up in the Warrens, believe it or not." James did not believe it, and the fact must have shown on his face because Captain Rogers laughed again. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not lying. I was in two guilds during my childhood, and it was in my second guild that I met Bucky."

"Guild?" He knew what a guild was, but Baron Barnes wouldn't have.

"The Warrens are split into guilds, groups or factions if you like. The only way to survive is to be part of a guild – though my first guild would have killed me if I'd stayed with them, I reckon."

"Why's that?"

With a self-deprecating smile, Lord Rogers elaborated: "I was something of a weakling as a child. 'Runt' I was called once. My first guild didn't like weak links, but Bucky managed to convince his guild head that I was still a valuable member, so I switched. He introduced me to all his friends, showed me all the best hideouts, the best viewpoints, and they all showed me how to fight properly. I'd never been made to feel so welcome in a guild before." A brief flicker of anguish crossed his face. "Even… Even after Bucky disappeared. I wasn't exactly myself, but they still tried."

James nodded solemnly, thinking of the kindness that Xavier and the Banners had shown him when he first stumbled into world as himself rather than the Winter Soldier. "So how did you get out?"

"I was spotted by a man named Abraham Erskine, who turned out to be a Count without a family. He took me in, raised me as his own son, left everything to me in his will when he died. There were some objections, but when the King personally made it clear I was to retain the land I'd inherited my position was more or less accepted."

Enraptured as he had been by the unlikely tale, James was disappointed to see that they'd reached the edge of the mansion – his mansion. "That's a remarkable story, My Lord. If I may say so, I think your friend would be proud of you if he could see what you've become."

Lord Rogers near beamed at him. "Thank you, Lord Barnes. And please, call me Steve."

"Only if you call me James."

"Alright." He extended his hand. "It's been a pleasure, James."

The handshake was firm but warm, and James found himself grinning at his new friend. "Likewise, Steve."

"Can you see a way?"

Eyes watering from the wind, Bruce shook his head. "It's too steep," he called back, retracing his steps down the side of the mountain and finding the handholds he'd used on the way up. "Even if it wasn't," he continued once he was on more level ground, "it doesn't look like a safe option." He watched Betty's shoulders drop and looked down, jaw clenched.

"We'll have to go back then," she said, voice raised so he could hear her. "Do you remember that slow incline I spotted? The one that looked like a longer route?"

"Yeah, let's try that," he agreed, reigning in his growing frustration. They'd been trekking up the mountain for a few days now, with what felt like increasingly slow progress. They hadn't seen another person since they left the outskirts of Cenaria, and the last of the farmers had provided them with a few cuts of beef. The only people, if any, they were likely to encounter on the mountain were hunters, but with winter just around the corner Bruce would have been surprised to see a group at all. Doubt was taking a firm root at the back of his mind – what if this was the wrong mountain? What if James hadn't remembered correctly? What if something happened to Betty up here? What if he lost control and she was caught in the fray?

"Bruce?"

Blinking back into the present, Bruce followed her back the way they'd come. It still amazed him that, even with a roaring wind competing against them, his name on Betty's lips could still sound so soft, so concerned. He knew that his temper was shortening the longer they spent up the side of this cursed hill, and that she was the one who had to take the consequences, but that she did so without complaint only reinforced his love for her, paradoxical as that was at the moment.

Betty, of course, knew what travelling with Bruce would entail – hell, she'd married him, hadn't she? – and feared it was only a matter of time before her gentle encouragement and patience lost value. There were many reasons why she wanted this journey to be over quickly, including a return to home comforts, but part of her worried about the climax they were looking for; what if they never found Stephen? What if he refused to come back with them if they did? Or worse, didn't want to? They would do all in their power to convince him, she knew it, but Stephen Strange was almost as unpredictable as he was powerful. She prayed to God that he hadn't turned against them.

Their steady, silent descent soon levelled out into a familiar plateau, and when the path forked they chose to take the ascending trail, pushing against the wind as it tried to crush them against the stone. When it almost became too strong for Betty to walk against, Bruce came up next to her, pressing their bodies close and helping her onwards. It was a relief when they gradually turned out of it, able to walk upright and steadily if slowly, and still huddled together.

"We should've taken horses," Betty said. She'd mentioned it near the start of this trek, but Bruce had rejected the idea. His response now was no different.

"They'd struggle on this terrain as much as us. Besides, horses imply that we have something worth stealing, and I'd rather not…"

"What?" She frowned as he trailed off.

"I thought I heard something." Turning round, Bruce watched as a couple of large stones tumbled over the edge of the path in the opposite direction of the wind. He moved closer to where they'd been, noticing that the ground looked scuffled, as if someone had turned in a hurry, when the only people up here were him and Betty. Were they being followed?

Behind him, Betty gasped. "I did too," she said. "You mean that growl?"

"Growl? What gr-" Turning back to her, Bruce cut himself off mid-word as he not only heard exactly what his wife had heard, but saw where it had come from; a bear was ambling down the path towards them, and not a particularly small one either. Though it was late for bears to still be out, Bruce knew that any bear would happily take two humans as a final pre-hibernation meal, especially one this far out from civilisation. The wind had given it their scent, and they probably smelled pretty good.

"What do we do?" Betty asked, moving closer to Bruce's side.

Keeping his gaze on the bear, he swallowed heavily. "We fight."

"But we aren't fighters, Bruce."

"Yeah." He conjured a small fireball in the palm of his hand. "I know."

Darcy watched with amusement as Bobbi stormed over, murder written across her face. "That is the last time I let Jessica Drew borrow my boots!" she said angrily, dropping into the space on the couch.

"Isn't that what you said two weeks ago?" When Bobbi sent her a 'look', Darcy raised her hands and let it go. Instead, she pointed to one of the new girls Lady Sif had recently taken in, already surrounded by three drunk but interested clients. "She seems to be handling herself okay."

"Who, Greer?"

"Is that her name?"

Bobbi nodded. "Slave escapee. Got traded from some dead Sethi lord's household or something. Heard Lady Sif saying it was a miracle she still had her clan rings in."

"Clan rings? You mean those chains on her face?"

The older girl lightly cuffed her on the back of the head. "Talk louder, Darce, some people might not realise you're being ignorant." But as Darcy rubbed the back of her head, she leant back and explained Greer's 'chains' for her. "Greer comes from Seth, like Lady Sif. You know that the Sethi do things a little differently than we do, right? Well one of those different things is that they identify themselves through those chains. Now, look closely – Nysos, try to be discreet, girl! You see what they're attached to?"

Darcy wrinkled her nose. "Are those rings?"

She nodded. "Sethi pierce their cheekbones with clan rings. The more rings you have, the higher your status in society. The more important your place, the more elaborate the rings – so you can see Greer wasn't poor or anything. She's got, what – three rings with chains to the ear?"

"And that means…?"

Bobbi shrugged. "Perhaps her lord gave her them, I dunno. Ask her one day."

"Do you think she'd mind?" She didn't receive an answer, and continued to watch the new girl regaling her admirers with tales of a far-off land. "Wait a minute," she said abruptly as something Bobbi said registered. "You said Lady Sif was from Seth, so why doesn't she have –"

"She did."

"So where –"

"Don't know."

"But then how do you know –"

"Because I've seen the scars, okay?" Bobbi hissed, glancing over her shoulder as if Lady Sif would suddenly materialise behind them. "She uses make-up to hide them, but a few of us have seen: she has clan ring scars."

Darcy frowned. "Why doesn't she wear them then?"

Bobbi shook her head. "I don't know, and I don't want to know. There are very few reasons why Sethi don't have their cheeks pierced, or bear scars where they once were. Either way, it'll be a touchy subject, so no bringing it up. Got it?"

Feeling a little berated, Darcy nodded, mind whirling as she watched Greer disappear with the only one of her admirers able to stand upright. She didn't know a whole lot about the Sethi besides what she'd just learnt now, they liked the sea, and their wine was damn good, but she couldn't really imagine Lady Sif as part of that culture. Part of her began to think Bobbi was pulling her leg a little, but that didn't stop her staring at the legendary courtesan's face when she appeared moments later with –

"The Shinga? Bloody hell, what does he want?" Bobbi muttered quietly. "Quit staring, Darce!"

Lady Sif and Nicholas Fury disappeared behind them, and Darcy saw every girl in the room relax instantly. Though he said and did very little in their presence, the Shinga's name could easily kick the tension up in the brothel thanks to the rumours people had heard about him, especially in regards to the eye-patch he wore. Darcy had heard he lost it fighting a krul, which had made Bobbi laugh. Either way, nobody dared ask, and Fury was the kind of guy who neither acknowledged nor dispelled such rumours. As some mage had once said as he passed through: "His secrets have secrets."

"Think Clint'll show tonight?" Darcy asked casually as another client strolled in.

Bobbi snorted. "No idea. If Fury's here, probably not." She slid a sly look in the younger girl's direction. "Why? Hoping James'll be with him?"

Darcy shrugged. "It would be nice. He started his noble stuff recently I think."

"How d'you know that?"

"Falcon told me."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. He's still watching that Rogers guy, said he saw them together."

Bobbi snorted. "Well then I hate to break it to you Darce, but you've probably lost him."

"What?"

"He's hanging out with the upper class now," she said. "Lord Barnes won't have time for street scum like us."

Frowning, Darcy disagreed. "That's not true; James still works for the Sa'kagé!"

"Alright darling, keep your blouse on," Bobbi smirked. "Sheesh, you're almost as bad as Rogue."

"As bad as Rogue? How?" she asked a little indignantly.

"You're as sweet on Barnes as she is on LeBeau."

Darcy flushed. "Am not!"

"Please," Bobbi snorted. "Even Wade knows."

"Wade's weird."

"Exactly." Tucking her legs up underneath her, she scooted a little closer on the couch. "So tell me – what do you see in him?"

"Who, James?"

"No, fish-brain, King Odin. Of course James! Now tell."

Feeling the blush on her cheeks deepen, Darcy played with the hem of her blouse and shrugged casually. "He's nice to me, acts like a gentlemen around people he doesn't know, treats us all as people rather than pleasure things…"

"And he's hot, right?" There was a glint in Bobbi's eye as she said it, and Darcy couldn't help the stupid grin that split her face.

"Yeah, there's that too."

"But the, um, arm – that doesn't bother you?"

She shook her head. "It bothers him, though.

"How come?"

It seemed like an innocent question, just the usual line of gossip the girls followed when discussing clients behind their backs; but as Darcy recalled all the words shared between her and James in confidence, words he swore he didn't share with anyone else, insecurities, anxieties, hopes, dreams, and the odd promise, she came to the conclusion that nobody else needed to know the answer to Bobbi's question. "It's not for me to say."

"What? Come on Darce, I'm not gonna go blagging to Lady Sif or anything."

She remained resolute. "Nope – I'm not telling. And there's nothing you can say that'll make me, either. What passes between me and James is private."

Bobbi leaned back. "Really?" Her eyes narrowed, and just when Darcy began to squirm she grinned. "He tells you about his hits, doesn't he?"

Darcy's jaw dropped. "How did you… I never said –"

"But you haven't denied –"

"You can't just assume –"

"I don't need to, you're giving everything away pretty –"

"You mustn't tell –"

"Tell who what, that you're the Winter Soldier's –"

"Shut up!"

"Make me." Darcy jabbed her in the side. "Ow! Nysos, Darcy, I hope you don't do that to your clients!"

"You can't tell anyone that James and I… talk," she insisted, arms folded sternly (she hoped) across her chest. "Promise me, Bobbi. Please."

Bobbi rolled her eyes. "Alright darling, no need to panic – my lips are sealed." Her face was a mask of disapproval, though. "I really don't think you should get too close to him, though."

"Why not?"

She just shrugged. "A wetboy who 'talks' that much is headed for disaster. You'll only get your heart broken, darling, and I don't wanna see that happen."

Behind them and around the corner, Lady Sif and the Shinga exchanged a look. "Is she right?" the courtesan asked.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall you having any issues with one of your girls finding interest in one of my wetboys before."

"That's because the wetboy in question was never a former Khalidoran weapon."

"Then I don't know," he answered. "I thought you said your girls told you everything they picked up from their clients?"

"As far as I know, James Barnes is not a client," Lady Sif returned coolly. "Yes, he comes to see Darcy, but as you've just heard he comes for a different reason."

"The Winter Soldier seeking comfort." Fury snorted. "I'd never have believed it."

"We all need reassurance sometimes, Nick," she reminded him.

His lone eye bore a hole into her forehead. "But you're worried."

She didn't deny it. "Darcy's innocent. Most of my girls are."

"Are they? I wouldn't say betraying a man's trust makes one innocent, Sif."

A twitch in her jaw was the only sign his words made any impact. "The Winter Soldier had no problem hurting innocents in order to reach his goal before his miraculous change of heart. He was also an exceptional conman."

The Shinga looked surprised. Sif took muted pride in the fact that she was probably the only person in Midcyru who repeatedly (if infrequently) caused these momentous occasions. "You're worried Barnes isn't loyal."

"This is Khalidor we're talking about, Nick. Nobody from that twisted place feels guilt or remorse over anything, and the Vurdmeisters aren't half-arsed about their 'projects'. I don't believe they'd let their best weapon run wild without looking for him, especially when their own informants are being cut down in quick succession. On top of that, we have no idea where he's been before he stumbled into the city."

"He was with the Banners."

"And before that?"

"The river plains."

"Before that?" He had no answer. "Exactly. He could have been anywhere, done anything, then come to us with convenient loss of memory."

Two pieces clicked in Fury's head. "The wine scare."

"He could easily have orchestrated it without us knowing."

The uncovered eye narrowed at her accusingly. "I thought you liked this one? What do you gain from this stirring?"

Sif shook her head, a deep frown marring her beautiful face. "I do not speak these words lightly, Nick, but I've already said: I'm worried for my girls. If it turns out I'm wrong, then believe me I shall be as relieved as everyone else. Until then, however, I'm entertaining the worst possible scenario. As should you."

"Neither Potts nor Stark saw anything out of the ordinary when he visited them with Coulson. If they had, they would have flagged it up."

"Triggers don't have to be activated by magic. You remember what happened to one of your own, don't you?" She stepped forward into his personal space. "You and Hill almost died then. I doubt The Winter Soldier has the same emotional attachments Hawkeye does."

Unperturbed by how close she had suddenly come to him, Fury decoded her meaning and nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Putting the last finishing touches to his latest morning puzzle for Barnes, Wade stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was a thing of beauty, if he did say so himself: he'd rigged up several pressure points on and around the bed that, when activated, sent paper-thin throwing stars hurtling towards it at head height that Barnes would have to dodge if he wanted to keep his brain intact (or as intact as it still was). To make it harder, he'd camouflaged the pressure points to look like wood. Wade grinned; sometimes he surprised even himself.

~You can't surprise me.~

The wetboy sighed. The ka'kari always tried to ruin his moments.

~Not always.~

'Will you quit doing that?'

~Doing what?~

'Reading my mind!'

~It's not your mind I'm reading.~

Confused, Wade ignored the ka'kari and turned his attention to the shadow of Barnes' sleeping form. 'He's a bit quiet tonight, isn't he?'

~And that's a bad thing?~

'Maybe, maybe not. Think I should poke him to make sure he's not poisoned?'

~And undo all that work you just admired?~

'Ah. Good point.' Turning on the spot Wade jumped up, hooking his fingers round the edge of the hole he'd made to get in and pulled himself out, replacing the planks before using the ka'kari to cut another gap in the roof. 'You know, I think we should actually get some bats in there, just to convince Barnes it's not us making the holes.'

~I doubt he bought the lie the first time you told it.~

He dropped down to the ground, using his Talent to soften the fall. 'But if I told him that's how we got in, he wouldn't –'

"Wilson."

Deadpool, no matter what James would say later, did not squeal. "Oh, hey Barnes. How come you're up so late-slash-early?"

Arms folded across his chest, Barnes tipped his head to the side. "I was considering asking you the same question, Wade; along with: 'what the hell were you doing to my room-slash-roof?'"

"Uh…"

~Go on, throw him the bat line. I dare you.~

"Getting rid of bats for you. You know, 'cause they were causing you so much grief –"

"With pressure spots and throwing stars?"

"To get 'em while they're flying!"

Barnes looked decidedly unimpressed. "How would they hit pressure spots on the floor if they fucking fly?"

"…poop." Wade could hear the ka'kari laughing at him.

"Oh, knock it off, Wilson! I know you get that cracky-car thing to help you make those fucking traps!"

~I don't appreciate being called that.~

"It's a ka'kari," Wade corrected, "and how did you know?"

"That's not important." Barnes stepped forward until they were nose to nose. "Stop booby-trapping my bedroom, Wade. It wasn't funny to start with, and it isn't funny now."

"I'd like to disagree –"

"I couldn't give a shit." His tone was pretty threatening, and Wade was itching to whip out his swords and go for round two.

~We can't. Fury would probably make us regret it in some painful, sadistic way.~

"Shit – Fury!"

Barnes blinked. "What?"

Wade just grinned at him. "Sorry Frosty. As much as I'd love to go toe-to-toe with you again, I have a meeting with a certain one-eyed underground warlord, and both beating your ass and being late are ways to ensure my ball-sack gets roasted in front of me."

The other wetboy made a face. "I did not need to – wait, what did you just call me?"

"Frosty." Barnes glowered. "Well I can't keep calling you Newbie now, can I?" Waving goodbye he used the ka'kari to literally turn invisible ('I love it when you make me do that!'), and after waiting a moment to see Barnes flip out somewhat he hurried into the depths of the city to find the safe house the Shinga had told him to be in at sunrise. He arrived at the same time as the man himself, and waited until he'd sat down before revealing himself in the opposite chair. Fury didn't looked fazed one bit.

"Wade. It's good to see you."

Wade snickered at the pun, then paused. "It is?" He narrowed his eyes. "I think you're lying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…" He pointed at Fury's eye-patch. "You can only half-see me. Therefore, you meant to say 'it's good to half-see you' instead."

Already, Fury was regretting organising this meeting. "I need you to shut up and listen to me for a few minutes, Wilson. Can you do that?"

"Define 'a few minutes'." Fury glowered at him. "Alright, alright, I'll do my best. Just because it's you, and not because you have a scarily convincing half-glower going on there. Seriously, what's it like with two –"

"I have a job for you." The Shinga wasted no time in getting to the important parts. "Barnes needs an eye kept on him."

Wade nodded. "Which one – left or right?"

"Both. He's a former Khalidoran weapon, and I don't care what he claims about his past and his new allegiances: I have to know that there's no chance of the Godking getting him back into enemy territory."

Slightly confused that the order was only coming through now, after Barnes had been working with them for so long, Wade pressed the point. "I agree with you one-hundred per-cent on that, oh mighty Shinga, but let me point out something you may have missed: he's been killing so-called Khalidoran 'agents'. Would our enemy really send him to work for their enemy?"

Fury tilted his head. "How many ex-wetboys are dead because of you, Wilson?"

He paused. "Touché."

"As I was saying, he needs to be watched closely – by you. Everything needs to check out. He does something suspicious, I want to know."

"Surveillance? You're asking me to do surveillance?" Wade asked incredulously. "But Ni- Fury, that's such a mind-numbingly horrible waste of my talents! Why can't old Gambles do it?"

The Shinga ground his teeth. "Gambit is out of town, and will be for the foreseeable future." He was sure the wetboy muttered another sight-related quip under his breath, and chose to ignore it. "Whine all you like, but I know you're just as capable of surveillance as any other wetboy on my list."

"But I like Barnes – he's my friend!"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Deadpool shrugged. "I don't know. Thought that might make you think I'd feel guilty."

"In all the years I've worked with you, I've never once seen a hint of a conscience in you, Wilson. Why would you suddenly develop one now? If you truly were his friend, you wouldn't still be having this conversation with me."

"That's a very good point; what happens if I say no? I know my rights – I have a right to decline!"

"Go ahead, decline," he invited, spreading his hands and leaning back in his chair. "But if you do, I'll give the go-ahead to start exploring the limitations of that ka'kari of yours."

~I don't like the sound of that.~

Remembering how close he'd come to ending up on an examination table before convincing the Sa'kagé trio to hire him on (as well as all the frighteningly specific things – a lot of them, too – they'd wanted to do to him), Wade gave up. "Okay, you got me. But I just have one question."

Fury rolled his eye. "Of course you do."

"Why would I have to kill him, exactly? Assuming that's your plan for a Winter Soldier double-cross, full-out-betrayal situation."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "James Barnes knows things," he explained, "not just about Khalidor, but about the Sa'kagé and Cenarian nobility, too. I don't need to outline to you what could happen if that information goes North."

~He knows about me as well.~ For once in his life, Wade Wilson showed his understanding by keeping his mouth shut.