Within a few days, Mo had grown used to the leg, thanks to some help from Bucky who'd offered some tips. Still with no word from Sam or Steve, the both of them were going out of their minds with worry, and, as usual, they were taking it out on each other in the boxing ring. She'd improved leaps and bounds with this leg, trusting it more than she'd trusted her other one, and it performed as a real leg should have, allowing her to move with more agility, to dodge more quickly. Because it was strong and didn't feel pain like her other leg did, she found herself using it to throw kicks at him more often.
Bucky still didn't break much of a sweat sparring with her, but she was improving and she was learning, and it kept both of their minds off things for a while. He'd also taught her a bit about how to throw knives, and she felt far more capable now than she had since she'd left the army. There was a power that came with learning what she was learning, a power that came with the knowledge that her leg was no longer a weak spot.
With a grunt, she spun around to elbow Bucky, who was behind her, but he deflected the blow and shoved her away from him. She got her footing back easily and spun around to face him, her hair coming lose from its knot. He was focused, his face a mask this time; he really was trying to teach her, and sometimes that meant throwing her to the ground or knocking her legs out from under her. He had grown steadily more merciless, which she appreciated.
Today, he was attacking her. That had been the plan; he would attack, and she would fight her way out of it, hence the elbow throw and the shove.
"Good," he said. "Disarm me this time."
By that, she knew he meant an ordinary attacker; disarming the Winter Soldier was nearly impossible, so he wasn't fighting her as the Winter Soldier. She faced him and he approached her, knife held out. With a snarl she hit his wrist with one hand and seized his knife with the other, twisting his arm. It was the cybernetic one, so she knew that when he went to his knees "in pain" it was an act, but she went with it as he had showed her. Knife in one hand, she kicked him in the chest, sending him faux-sprawling, and pretended to drive the knife into his heart.
"Great," he said, getting up and taking the knife. "Again."
He would work her until she was exhausted, and she loved every second of it. The next round consisted of her dodging and parrying blows; after that, she was on the offensive, and they didn't stop until he'd thrown her over his shoulder and flipped her onto her back. She laughed with a loud groan and he helped her to her feet.
He watched her as she toweled off and slid between the ropes, hopping effortlessly down. Since Tony had given her this new leg, she'd seemed so much more comfortable with herself, for once trusting her body not to let her down. He followed her down, tossing his towel at her and hitting her in the face, which elicited a disgusted noise form her. He laughed as she tossed the towel back, doing a little spin, and he watched her.
Music was constantly playing in the gym, and they adjusted it as high or as low as they wanted, depending on their mood. She sang along to the song, distracted, and he noticed that she danced a lot more now, with this leg. When she wasn't sparring with him, she was dancing along to the music in the gym like she just couldn't contain herself. It reminded him of the videos he had seen, of her dancing while seating in a Humvee, or dancing as she walked next to Harper, always to draw a laugh from someone.
She suddenly spun around to face him and danced toward him, arms extended around an invisible partner, and sure enough he couldn't contain his laugh. It felt good, seeing her so happy and lively again, even though he knew she was partially faking it to keep her mind off the fact that Sam and Steve were still gone.
"How amazing is this leg?" she asked, her eyes sparkling, lively. She danced a funny dance. "I mean, look at it."
She extended it toward him to emphasize as he walked past her, and he grabbed her arm and spun her a little, spinning her outward before snapping her back in against his chest. She laughed. "See?" she asked, excited, and he smirked.
"I might just have to show you some real dancing," he said playfully.
"Why, Sergeant Barnes," she asked, raising a hand playfully to her lips. "You askin' me to dance?"
He spun her out again and she laughed as he released her. "I might be," he said, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her. "You sayin' yes?"
"Well, how can I resist that face?" He rolled his eyes at her. "Seriously, though, would you show me? Since I can actually move now. Like, the real stuff, I mean, from back in the day. Do you remember it?" He nodded and another smile lit up her face. "Oh, come on," she pleaded. "You have to show me. I'll be able to keep up now. Come on."
"Never had a girl beg me for a dance like this," he smirked.
"Shut it," she laughed.
Again, they both knew it was only a distraction, but how could he resist?
Mo wiggled her hips and danced toward him, earning another laugh. He nodded and gave in. "Alright," he said, looking around. They were alone. The gym was it's own enclosed section, and there were windows, but who was going to pass by? She asked Jarvis for appropriate music and he shook his head at her, still grinning.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he laughed. She extended her hand toward him and he took it, spinning her closer. "Gotta be light on your feet," he said, pushing her a little, and she adjusted. "Follow my lead."
"We look ridiculous," she laughed, and it was true; they looked nowhere near as glamorous as she imagined the people did in the 40s, with Bucky in gray sweats, barefoot, shirtless, hair tied back, with Mo in a black, snug STARK tanktop and red shorts; with this new leg, she didn't want to cover it. Her hair was a messy knot on her head, slipping out of place.
He spun her a couple of times and she laughed as he instructed her on how to be light on her feet, move in time to the music. He had both of her hands now, twisting her back and forth, spinning her so that her back was to his chest. He could see her loosening up, having fun with it. He kept one hand on her waist, the other hand holding hers out, and the more quickly she caught on the more he pushed her.
They spun in a circle together before he let go of her waist and, laughing, she leaned her head back and imitated the dancers he knew she'd only ever seen in movies and on TV. He reeled her back in, catching her as they spun together. She wasn't the best dance partner he could remember having, partially due to the fact that she hadn't grown up in this time, but he thought that she was definitely the most fun.
She just didn't care. He could see it. She knew she looked silly and she owned it, and she enjoyed it. She clearly wasn't trying to impress him; she was just trying to have fun with him.
The dancing involved a lot of them spinning in circles together before he released her, twirling her out and drawing her back in, and it was all coming back to him. She kept up marvelously; he could tell she was enjoying herself, especially given that she had the new leg.
"Steve was right," she gasped as he dipped her down and drew her back up. "You're good."
He shrugged casually, wrinkling his nose with a little smirk. He linked their hands, pushing her out and drawing her back, out and back as she swiveled her hips. Her hair had all but come loose. Maybe he was trying to impress her, just a little as he twirled them around and around, drawing her back in. She was panting now, and he was reminded again that she lacked his stamina, especially considering they'd just finished sparring. He held her around the waist with one arm as her breath stirred the lose hairs.
She started laughing as she gasped for breath, leaning her head forward, brushing his chin with the top of her head. She opened her mouth to say something and they were both startled by a violent pounding at the window. Mo whipped her head around and gasped.
"Sam!"
"Where is she?" Sam demanded, shoving past Tony. "What happened?"
"They're fine," Tony reassured them. "They got in a couple weeks ago—"
"Are they alright?" Steve's voice cut him off. He seized Tony by the front of his shirt. "What happened?"
"Hydra happened," Tony drawled. "The kids are fine, relax. A little beat up, but—"
"What does that mean, Stark?"
Tony rolled his eyes, pushing Steve's hands away and adjusting his collar. "I mean your boy Jekyll and Hyde got shot a few times and your girl's still a little beat, but I saved the day of course—"
"Where are they?"
"It's four," Tony said coolly, "so they're probably in the gym."
"Take us there," Sam said imperiously.
Tony looked them up and down and Sam glared at him. He wasn't in the mood for any of this, and he knew Steve was edgy as well. After what they'd just been through, and the finding out that Bucky and Mo had been attacked as well—no, neither were in the mood for games and banter. Tony seemed to sense this and led them to the elevator, and when they stepped out Tony pointed them in the right direction. Sam took off at a painful run, darting past a window and doubling back, glancing inside. Sure enough, Mo and Bucky were inside.
For a moment he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. Were they dancing? But the sight of them both alive and well was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Suddenly frantic, he pounded on the glass and Mo spun around and shouted his name. Steve had made it to the doors and they banged open and Sam was hard on his heels. Mo was running toward him, and he immediately noticed her newer, stronger gait, and before he knew it she'd flung herself at him, leapt into his arms, and she was holding onto him for dear life.
Clutching her to him, he fell to his knees; he was too weak to support both his weight and hers. She cupped his face in her hands and she was crying as she looked him over.
"What happened to you?" she gasped. She was shaking and sweaty and he drew her into him again.
"You're alright," he said, and he hadn't really believed it until he'd seen it for himself. He looked up and was surprised to see that Steve and Bucky had caught each other in a rough embrace.
"I was so—I wasn't sure if you'd come back—"
"I promised I would," he said as her fingers traced over his split lip and black eye, then the deep gash on his forehead. He squeezed her and she winced, muttering about her ribs, and he was both relieved and furious. They stood again and the four of them gathered together, Mo actually stepping forward to hug Steve and look him over.
"We've been worried sick," Mo started and Steve cut her off, his voice hard and angry.
"It was a setup," he said, and Bucky scoffed, gesturing at the both of them.
"You think?"
"What happened?" Mo asked.
"Yeah, I'd like to know, too," Tony said, entering the room. "I've been babysitting for two weeks. You can't afford me."
"It was false intel," Steve said darkly. "They were ready when we showed up. They captured Sam."
Mo looked at him, her eyes wide. "What?"
"I'm okay," he reassured her.
"I called for backup and we got him out, obviously," Steve said, "but it took some time."
"It's more complicated than that," Sam said. "What happened to you guys?"
"They knew you were gone," Bucky said. "There was a sniper." He gestured to his chest. "Three shots, but Mo dug them out. She was amazing." Bucky gave her a warm look that Sam didn't miss. Mo's eyes glanced between them and she just stepped forward and hugged Sam again.
"I'm so glad you're alright," she murmured.
"A little banged up," he allowed, looking over her shoulder at Bucky. "Man, where's your shirt?"
Bucky scratched his head. "We were working out," he said.
"I bet you were," Tony muttered, earning a glare from Bucky. "Well," Tony went on, clapping his hands. "This is marvelous. The gang's all here. I'd say this calls for a drink. And a better explanation."
"Everything calls for a drink," Mo muttered. "They're alive," she went on, more loudly, "that's what matters for now. Let them rest and clean up—they're filthy. They can crash in our room—"
"Our room?" Sam echoed.
"Yeah, Bucky and I have been sharing a room—"
"Girl," Sam said in exasperation, "what did I say before I left?"
"It doesn't matter," she said, "we're fine—"
"Steve's got his own room," Tony interrupted. "I've got one for Sam, too. Why don't we all clean up and meet at, say, six? Yes? Wonderful."
Steve, Sam, and Tony were waiting in Stark's gathering room, complete with a large table and a bar, seated together. They'd both cleaned up and felt a lot better for it, but Steve wasn't completely over the scare. He'd almost lost Sam, and it weighed on him; it would have been two friends he hadn't been able to protect, two friends lost to Hydra. The guilt gnawed at him, but Sam had done what he could to ease it. He could sense that Sam had been scared and was still shaky, but Sam had brushed it all off. Steve knew he was faking it, and he blamed himself for it. Two of his best friends, captured and tortured by Hydra, and though Sam hadn't admitted to the torture, Steve recognized the signs.
Sam nudged him, beer already in hand, and nodded toward the door, one eyebrow raised. Mo and Bucky were coming through the door, walking in step with each other, and Steve noticed it immediately; something had changed between them. They were incredibly at ease around each other. They walked close to each other and he looked down at her and she looked up at him and they shared a small smile. They were dressed similarly, though Steve knew that was due to the STARK clothing they were wearing, Mo in black shorts and a sweater, Bucky in black sweats and a tank top—both of them, he noted, showing off their prosthetics.
Though it was good to see Bucky looking so, well, Bucky—alive and well, seemingly happy, relaxed, more relaxed than Steve had seen him, the sweats and the fact that his long hair was in a bun, served as a bitter reminded that he still wasn't 100% himself, and maybe he never would be. The old Bucky wouldn't have been caught dead looking like he was now. The old Bucky had been so comically vain, especially in the presence of women, always wanting to look pristine, perfect—so different from the way he was now, in the baggy sweats, long hair, and shadowed eyes.
They sat down next to each other, with Mo between Tony and Bucky, and Bucky across from Steve and Sam across from Mo. Tony slid Mo a beer and Sam looked alarmed, but Mo waved him off.
"I'm fine, Sam," she said gently as she slid the next one to Bucky. "So, what happened?" she asked, her voice low and raspy, gentle still.
"Why don't you go first," Sam suggested, his voice slightly hoarse. Steve suspected it was from screaming, but he didn't bring it up. Mo and Bucky exchanged a glance and Mo raised her eyebrows.
"I already told the story once," she said, nodding at Tony. "Your turn."
Bucky grinned, and Steve's eyes were intent on their interactions, missing nothing. "Everything?" Bucky asked. "Even the…?" He trailed off, motioning to his head and neck. She nodded. Steve's eyes dropped to her neck, noticing the faded bruises.
"Are those hickeys?" Sam asked and Mo gave him a look and shook her head.
"No, Sam."
"That was me," Bucky admitted, looking none too proud of himself. "Had a flashback after everything and strangled her and knocked her unconscious."
"But it's okay," Mo said quickly. "We worked it out."
Sam groaned and rested his forehead on the table. Bucky hesitated and Mo leaned her shoulder into him, just a small movement, but Steve noticed. Bucky sighed and told the story from start to finish; the attack, the way Mo had extracted the bullets, the way Tony had showed up and about the man who'd caught Mo at the last second, and how she and Bucky had killed him. Mo's face was tense and she avoided eye contact. Bucky when went on to tell them about the flashback, what he'd done to Mo and to Tony's guest room, looking ashamed. He wrapped it up saying that they were alright, both of them recovering, that they'd had each other and that he felt more like himself than he had before all of this.
Steve could see that much. He heard it in the way Bucky spoke, the Brooklyn accent resurfacing every so often. He saw it in the gestures, the expressions, the way he looked at Mo sometimes with open affection. The way he looked at Steve, now, without fear.
Tony interrupted to bring up the leg he had built, asking Mo to show it off. He pointed out that it was a prototype, that the final version would be done in a couple of days, and Steve was impressed. It was beautiful, and it clearly did wonders for Mo's confidence.
Finally, it was their turn, and Steve told the story. For the first time, he felt uncomfortable under Mo's gaze; it was like she was seeing right through him. He avoided her eyes as he spoke, his voice rough with guilt. He told them about how they'd been set up, walked right into a trap; he'd lost Sam and hadn't been able to get him out without backup and careful planning. It had been a long, painful process for the both of them, and Steve had feared the worst, but he'd fought his way through and rescued his friend and here they were.
When he looked up, he finally met Mo's eyes again. She tilted her head at him and he looked away.
It was quiet after that. Even Tony was silent, everyone taking in all the new information. It was Sam who broke the silence at last.
"So did I see you two dancing earlier, or…?"
"Oh, yeah," Mo said. "With this new leg and everything, I kind of talked him into it. He's good!"
"Well, you're not so bad yourself, sweet'eart," he said with a wink, and Steve was momentarily floored by how Bucky the line and the wink seemed. He really was changing. Mo rolled her eyes at him and, again, he noticed the change in their relationship; Mo looked away from Bucky and faced Sam, and Bucky's eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer than was necessary. Steve gave him a look.
"Dancing again," Sam said, looking at her proudly.
"And singing," Bucky added innocently.
"Yeah?" Sam said, "Well I'll be damned."
"That's because of this one," Mo said, nudging Bucky. "While you've been gone—well, he's helped me just as much as I've helped him."
They shared a meaningful glance that Steve didn't miss and, apparently, neither did Tony.
"These two are weird," he muttered, faking a shudder, and Mo glared at him. "Got that whole silent communication thing down." He stood abruptly and stretched. "Well," he said, "it's been nice, but I've got things to do. Got a leg to finish up." He looked between Sam and Steve. "You two know where your rooms are. You're welcome to stay as long as you need to."
And with that he turned on his heel and headed out of the room.
"Maybe we should all head to bed," Mo suggested, and there was a murmur of agreement. Slowly, one by one, they stood. Steve looked at Sam; there was no anger in his eyes, but Steve still struggled with the guilt. Sam had told him a thousand times that it wasn't his fault, but Steve couldn't shake it.
Bucky was sitting, resting casually against the table, saying something to Mo with a smirk on his lips—his smirk. She jabbed a finger at him, glaring, and he laughed. She glanced up and her eyes fell on Steve and she paused. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, and Steve shrugged.
"Sure."
She looked back at Bucky. "I'll meet you back at the room," she told him, and he nodded. He walked past Steve, pausing for a moment to grab his friend's shoulder and squeeze it. Steve was startled, just as startled as he had been when they'd hugged earlier; Bucky never initiated physical contact.
"I'm glad you're back, pal," Bucky said, meeting his eyes. He gave him a little shake, clapped him on the shoulder, and walked away. Sam hugged Mo, muttered something about sharing a room with Bucky, but she brushed him off. When they were alone, she approached Steve, her eyes gentle.
"You alright, Captain?"
He nodded.
"I don't believe you."
He swallowed. "Bucky, he—he's amazing—"
"Right? The progress he's made is incredible. But how are you, after everything?" When he didn't speak she just sighed. "You're a tough nut to crack," she laughed, "but it's not all that hard to put the pieces together. Sam's fine, Steve. I could see it—the guilt was written all over your face when you talked about it, but none of it's your fault. Not Sam, and not Bucky, alright? Those boys love you. If they can forgive you, you should be able to forgive yourself."
AN: Alright, almost done with this! Now that they're back, I'm thinking the next chapter will be the end of it! I know how I'm going to wrap it up and begin the next one, so be sure to review!