Chapter 30.

They didn't stay long on the ground in Portugal. Long enough to report to Coulson via the satellite and to refuel the plane, and then they had to head back to England.

"Find us a quiet spot to lay low for a little while," May asked Natasha, "we need to keep Jemma with us for as long as possible, but at the same time we have to get her and Clint back to London before they're compromised."

Natasha eventually came up with a location an hour north of London, on a large estate owned by a rock star who was a former drinking buddy of Tony's. It was secluded enough that they could land the Bus and stay covert for a couple of days. Fortunately the rock star was away on tour and his staff were easily evicted with a fake gas leak.

"You with us, Skye?" a familiar voice was asking. "Can you open your eyes?"

That's Jemma's voice, Skye thought. I should try and do what she says. Everything was all swimmy when she tried to open her eyes, though. "Nope," she mumbled.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," May said dryly. "You've slacked off long enough."

"Huh," Skye tried to peel her eyes open again. "Why'm I in sickbay?" as she started to vaguely make out familiar shapes around her. "Please tell me I wasn't shot again."

"You weren't shot again," Jemma and May said in unison.

"Oh. Good." She managed to get her eyes all the way open this time. Sickbay was familiar, she didn't waste time looking at it. "Why are you here?" she narrowed her eyes at Jemma. "Aren't you supposed to be in London, with Barton?"

"We're not very far from London, and Clint's right here." Jemma waved at the door, and Skye saw that Clint was indeed just outside it, leaning against the wall in that negligent way he had that somehow conveyed that he was seeing absolutely everything and was ready to leap into action, even while looking relaxed. "I'm here to look after you. And Barnes. The Winter Soldier."

"Oh, we caught him?" Skye tried to remember. "What happened? Where did I get hurt?" Nothing really hurt, except for a slight ache between her legs she hadn't felt since that last night with Miles. "Wait." Her hand flew to her groin protectively. "Did I get..?"

"You haven't been raped, no!" Jemma blurted it out quickly, and then looked rather desperately at May, who sighed.

"Skye, what do you remember?"

Skye tried to think back. The last thing she remembered was the endless hours of sitting in the command centre. Except – her face flushed red. She had a sudden flash of Steve, lying between her legs, his mouth wet from her juices, looking up at her from those stunning blue eyes of his. No, that had to be a dream.

"Out, Jemma," May said, watching the expressions change on Skye's face. "I'll talk to her. It's my job as her SO. Go."

Jemma was reluctant – she rather ashamedly admitted to herself that she had a prurient interest in exactly what Skye and Steve had got up to – but she left at May's order and waited outside with Clint. They both watched through the soundproof window as May spoke. Skye's eyes got wider and wider; her mouth fell open and she started shaking her head. Eventually she dropped her face into her hands and quite clearly started sobbing; May put her arm around Skye's shoulders and gave Jemma a help me face.

"Come on, you're coming in with me," Jemma told Clint.

"Me? The last time I got involved in one of these things a perfectly happy couple got divorced!"

"So you can tell her how much worse it could be. She needs to hear, from a man, that Steve won't think less of her for this."

"Oh, he won't think less of her," Clint muttered. But he followed Jemma reluctantly in and propped up the wall while Skye sobbed in her arms.

Clint knew May well enough to make a pretty good guess at what she'd told Skye: that Rumlow had taken her, dosed her with the sex pollen drug, and Steve and Thor had gotten to her in time before Rumlow raped her. Back on the Bus, it had been necessary for someone to relieve Skye's suffering while Jemma synthesised the antidote, and while Skye had a brief period of lucidity, she'd chosen Steve.

"He must think I'm so disgusting," Skye sniffled into Jemma's shoulder, and Jemma shot a glance at Clint, which clearly told him that now was the time to speak up.

"I can tell you for sure that Steve doesn't think you're disgusting, sugar," he told Skye lightly. "He was worried out of his mind about you. And concerned that you wouldn't want to be his friend once it was all over."

"Really?" Skye sniffled again, and Jemma handed her a tissue.

"If you want my opinion," Clint said, "I'll be tactless and say I reckon Steve has had hopes of you since he first met you. Which I'm aware was only a few days ago, but hey, chemistry. Though he's very old-fashioned, it would probably have taken him ages to work up to asking you out."

"Yes, Clint, that was tactless and not helpful," Jemma said tartly when Skye choked out something about he won't like me now he knows I'm a slut.

Clint threw up his hands. "I only meant that it won't make any difference except for how long it might take Skye to get in his pants," he said in exasperation.

Skye was beyond hearing it, though, and Jemma waved him out, frowning at him. Clint went, running his hand through his hair agitatedly. Women. He'd never understand them. He found Steve and Sam both lurking in the labs, clearly getting under Fitz's feet while Fitz fiddled about with Sam's wingpack.

"Come on," Clint jerked his head at Steve. "Let's go check in on your brainwashed buddy."

"How's Skye?" Steve followed Clint after hesitating a moment.

"Upset. Thinks you'll think she's a slut."

Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Hell, no. None of it was her fault." He ducked his head, a flush coming to his cheeks again. "Skye has nothing to reproach herself for."

"Neither do you," Clint said coolly. He turned to face Steve, looking up into the bigger man's eyes. "Skye chose you, Steve. And if you're beating yourself up for enjoying what you had to do, well don't. She's a pretty girl and you're still a man, for all the serum enhancements. It would be a lot weirder if you had hated every moment of it."

That was true: Steve was struck by the notion. "I suppose – it's natural to want to give a woman pleasure," he muttered.

"And to enjoy doing just that," Clint said firmly, stopping outside the Cage door and checking the monitor. Barnes was alone, sitting on the floor, his arm still cuffed to the wall. "You ready? Natasha's been talking to him. She says his programming is breaking down pretty badly. Try to give me a clear shot in case he loses it." He patted the ICER gun sheathed in his thigh holster.

Steve opened the door cautiously, and Clint came in behind him, hand on the gun. They spread out, watching Barnes carefully. Ice blue eyes flickered from one to the other of them before settling on Steve.

"You're Steve."

"Yes, I am. Do you remember me?" Steve sat down on the floor, putting himself at Barnes's level. "We grew up together, but I looked kinda different then."

For a long moment they stared at each other, and then the corner of Barnes's mouth kicked up in a familiar smile. "When did you get so big, punk?"

Steve's jaw almost hit the floor. And then he was scrambling across the floor to Barnes, throwing his arms around him, heedless of any danger.

Clint pulled the ICER gun from the holster, but it would be a difficult shot even for him, without hitting Steve. And besides – well, the Winter Soldier was hugging Steve back with his one free arm, the metal one, sobbing against his shoulder. Slowly, Clint put the gun away and leaned back against the wall, watching.

"God, Bucky," Steve leaned back finally. His sharp eyes instantly picked up the other man's pained wince. "What? Are you hurt?"

"No," Barnes muttered, "but – please could you not call me that name? It hurts."

Confused, Steve glanced across at Clint, who shrugged. "Pain-response conditioning? Try Barnes."

"Or James? Does it hurt if I call you James?"

"Nah," Barnes managed a half-hearted grin. "Just makes you sound like my mom."

Steve chuckled. "We called you B-U-C-K-Y," he spelled it out, "because your middle name was Buchanan, after your mom's family name, and your father was James too. You didn't like being James Junior."

"Becca used to call me James Junior when she was trying to annoy me," Barnes – James – grinned, and then sobered. "Becca?"

"She died a few years ago," Steve shook his head. "I went to try and look her up, when I woke up. She had two kids, though, and they had kids – there's a great-grandson named Buchanan who looks a hell of a lot like you at fourteen."

"Wow," James looked amazed. "I – don't suppose they'd want to meet me?"

"Probably," Steve shrugged at him. "You're a war hero, you know."

"Yeah." James looked at his metal arm. "I saw the exhibit in the Smithsonian. They talked us up some."

"No, they didn't," Clint couldn't resist. "They didn't talk you guys up at all. Half of what you did behind enemy lines never even got into the public domain."

Barnes looked up at Clint. "I've seen you before."

"Yeah?" Clint looked surprised. "Where was that?"

"I had you in the crosshairs. In – Vladivostok, I think it was."

"And you didn't pull the trigger why?"

"Because Natalia was with you. I – couldn't shoot."

"Ah," Clint shared a glance with Steve. Natasha had admitted to them that she and Barnes had been lovers once, while she was in her training – she'd known him as Yasha. It had ended when he tried to help her escape the Red Room. He'd been caught and put back on ice. Obviously he'd had at least some fondness for her.

"Natasha," Clint emphasised the name she used now, "and I have been partners – working partners – for several years now."

Barnes smiled. "I know. She told me about you. She said that when you offered to help her up instead of putting a bullet in her head, it was the first time since I tried to help her escape that any human being had showed her kindness. She was so shocked she forgot to kill you."

"She said something like that to me, too," Clint hesitated, and then walked closer. "If I take that cuff off you, are you going to give us any trouble?"

"No," came the clear response. "Natasha knows how to break their programming. You know that, don't you, Barton?"

"I do know that." Clint released the cuffs, and the only thing Barnes did was bring his human hand down and rub it briefly with the metal one. "She once said it's easy enough as long as the subject actually wants to."

James nodded, turning back to Steve. "No doubt there will still be hidden triggers that will have to be rooted out with time." His smile was sad. "But as long as they don't put me back in that machine again, I'm my own man."

"Too damn stubborn to let anyone else give you orders, even when you're brainwashed," Steve said fondly.

The door opened behind them and all three men turned. May poked her head in. Her eyes widened to see Barnes uncuffed, but Clint gave her an 'all-clear' sign.

"Coulson on the line. Wants to talk to you, Clint."

He nodded, heading for the door. "I'll leave you two to catch up."

"It could take a while," Barnes deadpanned, and the last thing Clint heard before the door closed was Steve starting to laugh.

So – maybe I simplified getting Bucky back a bit. You want complicated Bucky, go read "A Shattered Reflection".

YES, for all those of you who have been nagging me about the original point of the story, we are finally about to get back to some BioHawk smut (next chapter. Promise!). What can I say but sorry? The plot fairy didn't so much sprinkle fairy dust on me as throw a glitter grenade and then beat me round the head with her wand for good measure.

And for those of you who have been missing the sexy smut, allow me to point you at my recently posted Maria Hill story, Her Dirty Little Secret, about Maria's secret lover before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.