As Tony grumbled over his tv and Steve held Peter, who slept through everything, while Loki read and Bucky sharpened his knives. Natasha took Joyce to her room to get cleaned up and clothed.
Steve and Tony wen over what happened with the forest and in the kitchen. And Steve was surprised about her soft spot for Peter, while Tony was gobsmacked about Joyce being his apparent sister-in-law. Steve hasn't mentioned a younger sister before.
Natasha and Joyce return after a near hour. Joyce was wearing dark jeans, the right pant leg ripped off, that hugged her curves, a black sports bra and an off the shoulders red sweater. Her long blonde hair had been brushed and braided back into a tight french braid. The blonde looked clean with a healthy glow to her skin. Steve openly gaped at her, this was the healthiest that he has ever seen her. Bucky thought the same thing, while he discreetly stared at her.
"Joyce?" Steve called out to his little sister, although she only looked confused at the name.
Natasha snuck up behind Bucky and pulled his hair back into a small half pony tail. She whispered, discreetly into his ear once she was done. "Joyce has at least 2 knives on her right now. She might've snuck more when I wasn't looking." The redhead warned and Bucky nodded his understanding.
Joyce stared down at her feet, one flesh and the other metal, and thought about her past. She remembered a tall man with a charming smile that would make her heart flutter and had beautiful brown hair, that she had yearned to run her fingers through. This man was James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky for short, and he was Steve's best friend.
Steve was her tiny big brother. He was barely 5' 3" and 100 pounds soaking wet. He was an amazing artist and was a fighter and rebellious, despite his numerous health issues. He had a strong sense of honor and strict set of morals.
Joyce winced, cringing at the pounding in her mind due to the forced memories. Joyce remembered herself, somewhere between 4'6" and 4'11", and 20 pounds lighter than Steve. Even worse health and often fainting due to lack of sleep from reading too much. She was completely different from the 20s and 30s. So was Steve.
Joyce looked up to the large, muscular blond in front of her. She studied his features very closely. And after a moment she fully realised that this man was in fact her brother. Joyce paused, walking over to him, placing her hand over his heart, and was surprised to find how strong and steady it felt. Joyce pressed her ear to to his chest and a part of her sobbed with relief that this wasn't some dream.
She pulled back to look at him. "Your heart, you're healthy." She said, disbelieving, but a part of was relieved. Laughing in pure glee at the extraordinary feat.
Steve smiled coyly. "Yea, have been for a while now." He pointed out, scratching the back of his neck.
Joyce paused and suddenly remembered the year. Dread made her stomach turn to lead as it dropped. "Hey Steve, I know that it's 2015 and I was wondering if... James was still alive or had he... you know..." Joyce trailed off, her summer blue eyes downcast.
Steve and Bucky stiffened. Joyce hadn't realized that Bucky was Bucky yet. Steve's face fell as he remembered that Joyce had been in love with Bucky back then. But now, it seemed she wanted to kill him.
What do I do? What do I do?
Bucky and Steve shared a slightly panicked look which Joyce saw. "By the way Steve, way to you have the Winter Soldier here." She asked, her voice dripped with distrust and hidden hatred. The 2 male super soldier best friends shared another look, unsure of what to do and how Joyce would react to it.
"By James do you mean Bucky?"Anthony asked and Joyce nodded. Her face neutral, thought there was an excited sparkle in her summer blue eyes.
"That's Bucky." He pointed to the brunet despite the pointed looks from both his husband and best friend. Bucky glared icy daggers at the other brunet as Joyce turned to look at him, for once taking him in entirely. A part of her screamed at her to either run away or kill him. But then again, a different part plead with her to give him a chance.
The room was tense as Steve looked between Bucky and Joyce.
When the silence was at its peak, it was broken by Joyce's soft demand. "Look at me." She ordered, her voice tight and her face guarded. Bucky turned around slowly and met the blank blue eyes of Joyce with slightly pleading ice blue ones.
Joyce's jaw clenched and her eyes turned hard, yet Bucky could've sworn that he saw tears well up in her eyes. Joyce turned on her heel and half ran out of the room, Natasha following closely.
Steve glared at Tony, who put his hands up in surrender. "No sex for two weeks." Tony's jaw nearly hit the floor. "But Steve!" He whined. Steve gave him an unimpressed look.
"No butts, especially for you. Hey JARVIS don't allow Joyce to leave the Tower, and notify me if she tries." Steve said, and got a beep of acknowledgement from the AI as Loki did his best to contain his snickers. For he was holding the child in his arms once again.
Bucky slumped in his seat, running a hand across his face. He wants for Joyce to trust him or at least not hate/fear him. But he has no idea on how to do that. And Natasha was probably with Joyce right now, so not a good idea to go look for her. He was screwed.
oOo
Joyce sighed as she settled down on Natasha's bed, bringing her right leg on to the bed as well. Massaging where metal met flesh, Joyce scowled darkly as she felt the serious scarring.
"How are you not like Bucky, when he first came to us?" Natasha asked curious, causing the older to look at he with dull eyes.
"I remember you. You were that little spitfire from the Red Room." She pointed out, the redhead's eyes widen slightly as she nods.
"I don't know how he reacted, but I do know how I reacted. It was actually an experiment gone wrong - at least for them." Joyce retold with spite lacing her tone, though she made a smug expression.
"They were trying to make my memory better, more observant, at memorizing smaller details - like the way you pick at the paint of your right ring finger with your thumb when you're annoyed or frustrated." She paused, her eyebrows raised slightly, surprised with herself, before she continued. "But it also did something else that enabled me to unscramble my mind and past enough to know that those were the bad guys." It hurt like hell as she she was able to make out more memories to fight back.
"Then how did you get here?" The former pupil asks.
"I was on the roof of the plane. At least I'm pretty sure that's what it was." She stated confused slightly, and Natasha confirmed her guess with a simple nod. For she was use to this, she was the one who mostly helped Steve and Bucky get caught up with the 21st century. Her and Sam.
"I have a request of you." Joyce said, fully facing her, legs dangling off of the side of the bed.
"Depends on the request." Natasha replied with a shrug, kicking her boots off.
"I wish for you to bring me up to modern times." The blonde requested, making a smile form on Natasha's plump lips. She should've guessed that's what she wanted. Natasha directed her smile to her former teacher.
"It would my pleasure." Joyce sent her a grateful smile.
"Thank you." She thanked the redhead softly, Natasha grinned. "Don't thank me quite yet."
There was a moment of silence before the younger spoke.
"Can I call you Joyce?" She asked and met the shining blue eyes of her former mentor.
"Only if I can call you Nat." She countered.
"You have struck yourself a deal."
oOo
The next morning, Joyce was the first to walk into the kitchen, after a long night of not sleeping. Though she was ket company by Natasha; who was willing to help her catch up with the times. The blonde wore some loose black sweats and a dark yellow crop top, showing off the bottom of her toned stomach.
Joyce's tight french braid remained unharmed as the blonde flipped a knife in between her fingers, while she searched the kitchen for a piece of fruit. An apple would be preferable. She never did get to fully explore the kitchen the day before.
In the distance there were quiet footsteps and two sets of breathing. One more even and slow, they were asleep, and the other carried them with ease. Considering the lack of effort in their breathing. None the less, Joyce tensed, jumping onto the counter silently, gripping her knife as she positioned herself for possible attack.
Though there was no need for it was Steve with a sleepy Peter in his arms who came around the bend and into the kitchen. Joyce sighed and hopped down without sound, placing her knife where she had just been crouching. The smaller blonde walked over to the father-son duo, with a small smile, and wished Steve a good morning. Seeing as Peter was still mostly out of it.
"Hey Joyce, would you hold Peter as I made some breakfast?" Steve asked softly, loving the way Joyce looked at him with surprised wonder. The eagerness that sparkled in her summer blue eyes relived Steve of the scared dead ones from his nightmare last night.
"Really?" She checked, just like with Loki, and she received a nod from a softly smiling Steve. So like before, Joyce took a sleepy Peter, settling him on her flesh hip. Her arms a protect embrace around him as the 7 year old buried his face in her neck, tiny hands grasping her crop top. And not for the first time, Joyce wished for a child of her own.
Joyce leaned against the counter with her knife on it and watched as Steve began to cook. This quiet little moment, reminded Joyce of the way things used to be, back in the '30s and '40s.
Steve and Joyce still tiny and fragile, Bucky always working to pay for the bills. Joyce helping as a teacher's assistant and Steve selling his drawings to where he could. When they all lived together in a small run down apartment and they all had to sleep together, the pair of siblings mooching off of the brunet's body heat.
When times were simpler with money tight and Joyce was helplessly in love with Bucky, Steve struggling with his spirit not fitting his body and Bucky who had to look after the problematic siblings. But now everything was upside down, twisted around and blown up.
They were out of their time and struggling to fit in. Though Steve was already a step ahead of them, having a husband and aborable child. Of course Joyce knew about Steve's homosexuality. She's known before he did. And it never really matter to her, despite the era they grew up in. She loved him for him, nothing would change that. And nothing has changed that. Even now more then 70 years later, Joyce still loves and cares about Steve.
But on the other hand with Bucky... Joyce had absolutely no idea how she should feel towards him, and the different parts of her mind were waging war on how to feel about him. On one end, her '40s self, was begging her to forgive him and let bygones be bygones, to allow him be a positive figure in their life. But on the other end, her Tigress self, was warning her of all the horrible things he has done and is still capable of, that part wanted to either run the other way with Steve and his family or end the Winter Soldier once and for all.
God what was she going to do...
Joyce shook herself free of her thoughts, knowing how deadly it could be to be sucked in. She searched for a way to distract herself.
"Do you still draw Steve?" Joyce asked as she ran her fingers through Peter's soft brown hair, using it to calm and ground herself to reality. The question caused the older blond to paused momentarily, glancing at his sister from the corner of his eye. Steve continued to cook as he answered Joyce's question.
"I do sometimes, when there's a moment of downtime." He answered and Joyce hummed thoughtfully.
"Do you remember back when we were 12 and 14, you drew me a carnation, because we couldn't afford an actual flower in the dead of winter." She retold, a certain fondness in her voice, Steve nodded, remembering it as well. A smile on his lips, affection in his eyes.
"Then for my birthday that year, you got the carnation I drew you and preserved it for me." He added, causing Joyce's lips to twitch up into a half smile.
Peter shifted in Joyce's arms, finally waking up and rubbing his eyes with his fists. The tiny brunet looked up at her with sleepy honey colored eyes. "Who are you?" He questioned, his face scrunched in trying to understand.
Joyce sent a slightly panicked look to her older brother. He was grinning ear to ear, as he focused on the pans before him. Steve - the little punk - made a gesture to hurry up and answer his son, while Joyce was at a little bit of a lost.
"I'm Joyce Rogers." She said, a little uncertain as she hesitantly meets his sleepy honey eyes. "I'm Steve's sister... and your aunt...?" She said it more like a question then a fact. Steve glanced over to his baby and sister. They were staring at each other, trying to get a read on the other.
And Steve couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped him at how the familiar the actions are to him when he thinks of those two.
But then Peter's eyes widen and he grins that goofy smile of his. He giggled loudly and happily and Joyce felt the tension just drain out of her as she held him close to her.
"Weally?! That's so cool! I only have Aunt Nattie, and a whole bunch of unwles!" He exclaimed, using his tiny hands to emphasize his point of constantly being surrounded by mostly males.
"Is that so? How many uncles to you have?" She asked him calmly, a small adoring smile on her face, her heart - for once - light, with a happy sensation bubbling up in her chest.
"There's Unwle Bwuce, Unwle Whodey, Unwle Thwor, Unwle Woki, Unwle Cwin, Unwle Sam." He states, counting on his chubby fingers.
"That's a lot of uncles, good thing you have me to help balance them out." She teased lightly, adoringly. A couple feet away, Steve felt his heart soar. The past 24 hours have been a whirlwind, but he wouldn't change them for anything.
Suddenly, Peter's face lights up like the forth of July. "There's also Unwle Bucky! He's the coolwest! He's got a metal arm!" Peter gushed, and Joyce felt her smile drop, along with her stomach as said super soldier walked into the kitchen, half wake; a knife tucked into the waist band on his sleeping sweats, a black muscle tee, pulled taut over his chest.
"Speak of the devil." Joyce muttered under her breath, in Russian.
Peter turned his head and saw Bucky as he made his way over to the coffee machine. He released a happy coo and squirmed in the protective embrace of his aunt, so he could go over to his favorite uncle. Joyce set her jaw, and pushed off of the counter.
"Barnes." Bucky flinched slightly at her sharp tone, and turned to see her holding Peter, walking closer to him. Somewhat reluctantly, by the bland look on her face. "He seems to have taken quite the liking to you." She stated as she hesitantly handed an excited Peter over to the arms of Bucky.
She silently and expertly, stolen his knife as he got Peter comfortable in his embrace. Peter already chatting his ear off about having another aunt.
Peter turned in Bucky's arms to include his aunt who was now sitting on the kitchen isle, two knives hidden behind her, and saw a bit of metal and scarred flesh, on her right, hip peeking up from the low riding sweats. Her right foot hidden behind the left.
"Aunty Joy, what's that on your hip?" He asked, curious as her hand hid her hip from his view. Her face carefully blank as she turned to the observant little boy. She answered him after a hesitant moment.
"You know how Barnes has a metal leg?" She paused, then continued at Peter's nod. She could see the gears clicking together as his eyes glittered in excitement. "Well I have a metal leg." Joyce told as she unhooked her right foot and pulled her pants leg up to her knee. Showcasing the work of HYDRA. Not that the little one knew that. Or ever had to know that.
A smile and joyful laughter spilt out of the tiny 7 year old. "So cool!" He exclaimed, and Joyce felt a ghost of a smile, worm its way onto her face. She released her pant leg as Steve announced breakfast was ready.
As Bucky, set Peter down at one of the seats at the kitchen isle, he noticed that his knife was missing. He glanced at Joyce, who was watching him like a hawk, discretely. And saw his knife sitting close to her. When had she done that?
Steve handed both former assassins a plate of steaming hashbrowns and scrambled eggs. Bucky took his plate with a quiet thank you while Joyce stared at the plate for a long tense moment, before reaching out and placing it next to her. Where she could look at it without outright staring at it. It wasn't the grayish white watery gruel she was use to from the years she was forced to serve HYDRA. Joyce barely remembers the last time she had eggs or potatoes.
She subscoiusly tightened her hand around her knife. She looked up to see her brother's worried, baby blue eyes, when she heard her name being called.
"Joyce, when was the last time you ate anything?" He asked, sounding like the concerned, overprotective brother he was; while handing Peter a plate of eggs.
The younger blonde thought back about it. She was release from cyro-freeze roughly a week ago. They did a scan of her body and mind, then began the experiments. That was the first 3 days; the dam holding back her memories was broken no long afterward, leading to her committing genocide and moving all of the bodies outside, so she wouldn't have to look at them and think about what she just did, as she began to put her scattered memories back together.
Joyce floated in and out of consciousness for a while afterwards, and was just fully waking up when Steve, Barnes and Natasha had found and confronted her. More like she confronted them. But not once did she care for herself.
"I haven't eaten since I was released from cyro-freeze. Roughly 10 days ago." Joyce confesses after a long, couple of minutes. Looking down at the plate of warm food. Not being able to look Steve in the eye. Because she knew the look that was surely in his eyes.
"Joyce, please eat something." The female flinched at the pleading tone in his voice, the slightly frightened look in his eyes made her shudder, bits of memory flashed before her eyes, distant voices pleading for their lives echoing in her ears.
"I umm..." She trailed off, as her eyes screwing shut as horribly detailed bits of memory pushed to the forefront of her mind. Her body tense and trembling, her heart pounding as she let loose a long string of colorful curses in Russian, causing Bucky's eyes to widen as he took a bite of fluffy egg.
The brunet knew what was going on her, it's happened to him, far to many times. When too many bad memories are triggered and come rushing back, it induces both an anxiety attack and a panic attack. And do you know what happens when someone like Joyce or Bucky has that kind of mental attack - someone will most likely get hurt.
Bucky's eyes flashed to a worried looking Peter, who had stopped eating to watch the adults. "Steve you need to get Peter out of here, now." The brunet warned his best friend as he slowly put his fork down.
Steve turned to him with sad eyes, already figuring out that he accidentally triggered Joyce. The blond very clearly remembers a major attack Bucky had and the several broken ribs that came out him not using caution. "Are you okay doing this by yourself?" He questioned softly as he quickly got Peter and begin to retreat to Peter's playroom.
Bucky nodded, keeping his eyes on Joyce and Steve sighed as Peter began to ask question. Steve explained that there was some things that Uncle Bucky needed to help Aunt Joyce work through. That it was best if they allowed them some alone time.
Joyce brought her knees up to her chest, as she covered her ears, trying to block out the pleading voices that bounced around in her mind without end. She whimpered and cursed and plead in Russian, reverting back, forgetting English. Though Bucky was fluent in Russian, so there wasn't a language barrier to worry about.
What there was to worry about was that Joyce could attack at any moment, and that she had his knife as well. Along with the fact that she would probably try to kill him if he wasn't careful about it.
So the metal armed man, slowly and carefully, walked in front of the unpredictable and suffering blonde - who was also armed with a knife clutched in one of her hands. Bucky made sure he was out of her immediate stabbing range and that his hands were up in surrender. Knowing what it's like to go through an attack like her's.
"Hey Doll." Bucky called out, using his pet name for her, back from the '30s and '40s. Her eyes snapped opened and focused sharply on him. Just how he wanted her to do.
"NO! I'm not her! You're not him!" She exclaimed in Russian, standing up on the counter and getting into a fighting stance. Her right leg ready to strike at moment's notice.
Bucky flinched, but kept calm, though he felt his pulse skip a beat. "You're right, I'm not him, and you're not her." He agreed, his voice gentle. She flinched visibly, her eyes darting around looking for an exit.
Bucky took a step forward and her eyes snapped to him. "The Bucky you once knew, he's gone, but not lost. He combined with the Winter Solider to survive. I'm them." Bucky explained, inching his way closer to the unstable Joyce.
Joyce was quiet for a long time, her breathing ragged. "She's gone too." The blonde finally said, her voice pained and choked. She was seconds away from crying.
"I didn't remember anything, before it was there and-and..." She confessed, finally breaking down, sodding as she dropped her knife. It bounced off the counter and onto the floor as she dropped to her knees on the counter, curling into a ball. Bucky rushed over to her, and rolled her onto her side, so he would be able to see her face.
"There was so much pain... so much... I wanted to die, I just wanted it to end." She sobbed, holding tightly onto Russian, curling up tightly. Her face buried in her hands. "They took him from me!" She screamed, causing Bucky to furrow his brows, worried and confused.
"Who'd they take from you?" Bucky asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. Joyce didn't answer right away, only crying harder. A heavy, sinking feeling tied up his stomach. "Who did they take from you?" Bucky questioned more firmly, as he bit back his anxiety.
She finally looked at him, in the eye, with woeful, broken ones. "My child." She gasped out, whimpering as more tears rolled down her tear-stained face.
"Who was the father?" Bucky half panted out, almost afraid of her answer. Hazy memories flashed in his mind, telling him he already knew the answer.
Joyce choked on a sob, "You... he was James' son." The blonde sobbed harder. Grief swallowing her whole and pulling her in deep as Bucky froze to his spot. Vague memories of drunken sex at an Independence Day party with her, arose. Along with weeks of avoidance afterwards, leading up to her 'death', and he never got to confess...
Bucky could've had a family with this woman, but he guessed that it wasn't ever really in the cards for them, not back then, and definitely not now. But maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at having a relationship with her. The woman he once loved.
"I'm sorry." The brunet didn't know why he suddenly apologized, but it felt like the right thing to do right now. Joyce looked up at him, tears slowing down, but not stopping. She reached out a hand, placing it on his chest, right above his racing heart. Joyce's breath hitched as she forced herself to sit up. Bucky's hands landed on either side of her as she supported weight with her other hand.
Distress and sadness swan in her sky blue eyes as she stared at his chest. "Who are you? You are both the Winter Solider and James Barnes. Yet neither of them... Can I even trust whoever you might be?" She mumbled quietly in Russian. Her eyes lifted to Bucky's. Her expression torn between two selves.
"Can... Can I hold you?" He asked, though he wasn't excepting a positive answer. Yet that's what he got in the form of a slow nod from the blonde. Bucky gently wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to his chest. Joyce was tense for a moment, before relaxing. Looks like her old self is winning her over when it comes to him.
She buried her face in his chest and cried until she ran out of tears and passed out. Bucky looked down at her red and tear-stained face and decided he wanted to try and savage their relationship from 70 years ago. To relearn her and have her open up to him.
Gently, Bucky fully scooped up Joyce and brought her to the couch - the knives in hand after a split second decision - and settled down with her curled up in his lap, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as she slept uneasily.