Chapter 30: Have yourself a Bert in your life

"Ridiculous," I pressed out between breaths as I came to a standstill and looked around in the crowd.

I took that moment to give my heart the chance to get my legs caught up on their oxygen demand. Small market, lots of stands and a decent amount of people mingling. Clearly, my target was hoping I would lose him here. Honestly, me too. I was seriously considering to just give up.

Sadly, I could still spot him quite easily.

It didn't matter if he was wearing a baseball cap. With that height and build? Maybe if he was trying to hide in a gym-bro convention. Also, he was running. That was a big give-away.

"On your left," came Steve's clipped voice from my side before I felt a burst of wind brush my face.

He rushed towards his disappearing buddy while trying to avoid running over anyone. Because we were out of uniform, we drew a lot of curious glances from the locals – and, naturally, no one made an effort of clearing the path for some random maniac sprinting about.

I wiped away the sweat on my face and pushed myself forward again with a groan.

"-that motherfucker, on your left-my ass, these supersoldiers and their supersoldier-bullshit-," I mumbled to myself as I cursed Steve even more viciously in my mind.

This was his fault after all. Well, the part where I couldn't wear my climate regulating suit. That I was appreciating much more right about now.

A little context. From the start, I had little to no way of knowing where Bucky would turn up and when. The only location I remembered him being was Bucharest. Which was why I had Ree cast a very tight and quite specific surveillance net over the city. There were a couple of false positives, but this time it was the real deal - obviously.

To my dismay, the real deal had an immediate flight response. And Steve had firmly insisted that we do this incognito. Don't want to alert anyone. I was tempted to tell him to speak to his therapist about his paranoia. In the end, I just went along with it. What was the worst that could happen, right?

Now, in the heat of late August I was regretting my choices. Especially the one that led me to wearing full-length jeans instead of a nice wide pair of shorts. It was 30°C and no, it wasn't sunny. Worse, it was muggy. Apparently, it was supposed to storm in the evening. Until then, it was just disgustingly humid.

As I sprinted after the two supersoldiers, all I could feel was sweat and misery.

I was pretty sure that I would have already had a heat stroke without the ring boosting my body's capabilities.

Seriously, we were playing our demented game of tag with the guy for about 10 km now. Probably at world record breaking pace too, such supersoldier-bullshittery.

Thankfully, after chasing Bucky through another couple of alleys, he made a mistake and landed in a dead end; two houses on either side and a two-story tall chain-link fence.

But of course, he didn't even slow down – because nothing ever is that easy with these super-boosted idiots.

Instead, he scared the ever-living shit out of the poor boy who had been kicking around his football by his lonesome, ran full-power ahead and jumped against the fence, clambering up a good distance before he was high enough to turn around and jump to an open window. He pulled himself up and through after a moment of precarious swinging.

Steve, that maniac, didn't waste a single second before repeating his old friend's stunt.

With an open mouth (from astonishment and for easier breathing) I jogged up to the spot below the window, not taking my eyes from the fluttering curtains that my friend had breezed through just a second ago. I heard crashes and cluttering from inside.

Making a helpless grunt I let my hands clap against my sides.

"I mean, what the fuck is wrong with these people… Right?"

I turned to the little boy in commiseration. Of course, said boy didn't understand a word of what I was talking about – most likely for the best, I did always forget that I shouldn't curse in front of children. Instead, he looked at me with equal measures of caution and curiosity as he held onto his ball. Probably waiting for me to try my hand at reaching the window.

As if.

I had a hunch. A quick scan and it was confirmed.

For some reason, Bucky was heading towards the roof. That did not seem like a particularly safe exit strategy. Simultaneously, it sounded exactly like something a supersoldier would do.

And I sure as hell was not walking up five sets of stairs just to watch him jumping off in some insane parkour stunt.

Therefore, I made eye contact with the kid while my feet left the ground and I started to fly upwards. Eyes big as saucers, he said something I couldn't hear. Going by his expression it was something along the lines of "woah".

With a satisfied smirk I landed on the roof. As I listened to the inclosing footsteps coming up the stairs, I absentmindedly had a construct fan me. Deciding that it was too warm for creativity, I went for a teal net around the door.

3, 2, 1-

-the door opened with a "BANG" loud enough to have me flinching.

Frowning, I closed the net before Bucky had the chance to cancel his momentum and try to escape into the stairwell.

Seconds later, a barely out of breath Cap stood in the doorway.

"Bucky- ," he called out just as I slapped one of my collars on one of the struggling Wintersoldier's limbs.

Seeing as his long-lost best friend would not be able to answer him, Steve looked over to me with a frustrated expression.

"Did you have to do that, Al?"

I blinked at him, not entirely sure what he was referring to.

"You can have your reunion when I am taking a shower. He was clearly not that intent on holding a conversation anyway," I argued.

"I thought we had agreed that we were going to do this as discreetly as possible."

"Yes, because chasing him around for another 20 minutes would have not drawn any attention, I'm sure," I drawled unimpressed with his unreasonableness.

I didn't need to look that hard to see that he was not in the best state of mind. He may be glad that Bucky would be safe with us, but at the same time, he still tried to run which did not imply a lot of good regarding his memories.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face as he approached his friend on the ground.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you," he said.

"I know, don't worry. He'll be alright," I tried to assure him.

"I hope so."

Everyone deals with trauma in their own ways. Everyone treats the traumatized differently too.

Steve was decidedly a hoverer. He was such a frequent visitor at Bucky's hide-away domicile that both his and Bucky's therapists had to impose restrictions on him.

Tony was remarkably okay with lending one of his properties to the purpose of turning the brainwashed murderer of his parents into a (somewhat) functioning human being again. Well, at the same time he mostly pretended like Bucky didn't exist. Kind of fair, if maybe not the healthiest of approaches.

Barnes himself had a whole team working around him. Mainly different types of therapists. Xavier and Jean helped out a lot too. They were fairly confident that they would be able to get rid of the Hydra programming in a timely manner. Bucky had, understandably, been apprehensive of having someone inside his head again. In the end though, the prospect of being free from Hydra's control was more than enough reason for him to endure.

Oh, and I was around too.

"So," I started off, unsure.

Bucky stared back stoically. We were sitting in the living room. It was a stunning property, really. Not as huge as most of Tony's, the view however… stunning. Sitting atop of a hill, a whole side of the building was a glass front so that nothing obstructed the outlook over the forest in the valley, beautifully framed by mountains.

Sadly that atmosphere was severely disturbed by the longtime assassin across the table from me.

And the awkward silence. I had no problem with silence – as long as I was alone. Wasn't this some sort of interrogation technique?

I uncomfortably shifted in my seat. The leather creaked. I cleared my throat.

Why did Bucky's therapist think this was a good idea again?

"Er, do you like card games?" I asked tentatively.

If you took a photo of Bucky's expression and showed it to an unsuspecting bystander, they would most definitely describe it as a prime example of "constipation".

If you did the same with me, the result would probably be "smugness".

"This makes no sense," the not-so-fearsome assassin stated with resigned disbelief.

I grinned as he scowled at his hand full of cards. I had one left.

"You said that. About a dozen times I think."

He scowled harder.

"How the fuck do you keep winning."

"Who keeps winning?" another voice came from the main door.

I was fairly sure that Steve was not supposed to come today. Well, whatever. I made an absentminded note to snitch him out to his therapist as I heard him rummage around in the kitchen.

"I do!" I exclaimed cheerfully.

Bucky growled. His glare intensified and I almost believed that his cards would go up in flames from the intensity. Steve entered the room with a distracted smile.

"There is no way. We've been playing for hours now. You have won every single time. I watched you, no sequence, no pattern. Your strategy doesn't make any sense!" he complained vehemently.

Steve looked between us, utterly confounded.

"You're just playing Uno," he said in a quiet and confused tone.

Neither of us spared him a glance.

I threw down my last card and pointed at him triumphantly.

"HA! Bold of you to assume that I was thinking at all!"

"Why do you sound so proud of that?" Steve looked at me with some alarm.

"So what, you have been playing like an idiot the whole time?" Bucky questioned; skepticism written on his face.

I shrugged, unconcerned by the insult.

"That and you had abysmal drawing luck," I admitted easily.

"Ah, well, are either of you hungry? I brought fresh cookies!" Steve interjected again.

I mustered him oddly. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Bucky do the same thing.

I distinctly felt like a teenager visiting their friend when said friend's mother comes in with snacks to try to insert herself into the conversation. I could not decide whether that mental picture was disconcerting or hilarious.

There were many things about Bert that I still had to work on.

Of course, there was his morality. And well, his personality overall. I had some discussions with the Ancient One about him. She advised me to keep the puppet close and give him time. He would grow into his sentience, she assured me.

Nice that one of us believed in him. Though I did my best to try to keep that doubt from Bert.

While I essentially had my fingers crossed on those topics, I decided to keep working on other areas.

"Hey Al, I thought -," Domi called out distractedly as he came through the door only to abruptly stop. "I should really start calling ahead."

"– take on meee (take on me) – "

"Huh?" I contributed, not taking my eyes of the screen.

Bert and I had pushed back the couch to make some more space in front of the TV.

"Why are you – is that Just Dance? Why are you playing Just Dance with Bert?" Domi asked, confusion coloring his voice.

"Just Dance 3, to be exact," Bert cheerfully corrected the sorcerer.

Now, the polite thing would have been to pause at that point. But it was just Domi, so we finished the song. After I crushed Bert once again, I loosened the wrist strap of my Wii controller and threw it safely on the couch as I headed towards my surprise visitor. He met me halfway and handed me a glass of water from the kitchen while giving me a healthy amount of side-eye.

"Thanks."

"Hn. Is this your new hobby now, or…"

I laughed.

"No, it's just a convenient way of filling in the gaps in his er, movement education, if you will," I struggled to explain.

At Domi's raised eyebrow, I elaborated.

"His fighting is already perfectly fluid, but a lot of day-to-day stuff needed work. And, you know, movements that he hasn't been able to see from me yet."

"That's how you landed on Just Dance 3," Domi said, his face a mask of stone.

"Well, we started with Just Dance and made our way through. 's good exercise," I admitted and shrugged.

Domi hummed in understanding and nodded. In the background I could hear the song collection going and turned around. Together with Domi, I watched as Bert chose another dance and started the game.

"He is very enthusiastic," Domi commented diplomatically.

"Yeah. He also brought the outfits," I said.

My friend snorted out a laugh.

"I had been wondering about those. It's certainly a choice."

I sighed and picked at my neon green dolphin shorts. To my admittedly limited knowledge of fashion, this would be described as 80s aerobics essential. Terry cloth head- and wristbands included. At least my ensemble was green. Bert's was neon pink.

"Well, I told him to go buy workout clothes, which in retrospect was kind of unnecessary, he doesn't sweat after all. When he appeared with this stuff, I thought it was an accident. Taste level hadn't been much of a priority, ya know? But then he presented me with a matching set. I have no idea where he gets his sense of humor from."

I frowned. 'Not from me.'

"And you went along with it?" Domi questioned, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I shrugged again.

"It isn't not funny. And at that point I was just thankful that he hadn't brought any leotards," I explained and shuddered at the thought of seeing a copy of mine wearing a leopard-print leotard.

Halfway through my explanation Domi started patting his pockets up and down.

"Whatcha looking for?"

"My phone. I want to see if I can make the Ancient One spit out her tea with the right timing."

… He could not but she did break out in laughter periodically in our next sit-down.

With the summer of 2013 coming to an end, I spend some time taking stock of the overall situation.

First, my allies. The Avengers were a lot more scattered than they had been in canon, that was for sure. For one, we did have a headquarter of sorts, a compound provided by Tony and yours truly - it was not much a living space though. More occasional training and lots of meetings.

Bruce and Jane (and by extension Darcy) settled on being fixtures in the New York Sanctum over continuing to squat in Kamar-Taj, much to Mordo's relief and Domi's delight. With his Hulk-side mostly under control, Bruce felt more comfortable sciencing again. According to Tony, the pair had published some highly celebrated papers on the mechanics of sorcery and their implications on our understanding of physics. Or something.

Steve was shuttling back and forth between Bucky's retreat and New York, where he was both a member and a volunteer in several charitable organizations for veterans. I held out hope that he would some day meet Sam in that line of work – even if the Falcon was living in Washington to my knowledge.

Tony had been cursing me out for months now. After MESO provided the basis for the Avengers to become an official tactical intervention force on an international scale, the team had needed a leader. With Cap thoroughly distracted and correctly pointing out that he had barely lived more than a year in this time, I pulled all my cards to get out of that position. Apparently, Tony had not expected that. And so, he got stuck with the title.

Which was why he was mad at me. Lots of work, so not worth it. At least he had Pepper to run his company for him.

Thor was rarely on Earth. I guess, this time around there was no ladylove to draw him back. His participation in missions was pretty much 50%. His princely duties kept him plenty busy otherwise. Though he did make time for my birthday, which I greatly appreciated.

Natasha and Clint were usually with Shield if the Avengers weren't needed.

Speaking of Shield, they were in a better place than in canon. They weren't forced underground and operated with a lot more government oversight now. It had Fury grumbling but I counted that as a decisive win.

Xavier and his school were busier than ever. They had struggled a bit with dealing with such a huge influx in students from around the world. At the same time, the majority of the legal team involved in MESO had taken to advocating for measures and sanctions against countries in violation of the protection acts – with the exception of Nelson and Murdock who went back to Hell's Kitchen.

I had met up multiple times with N'Jadaka who seemingly had resigned himself to playing the long game. He was reforming Wakanda as fast as he deemed sustainable – without risking a rebellion. Of course, there was continued push-back, especially concerning his plan to go public about Wakanda's true nature at some point next year. One step at a time.

On the other side of the coin, we had the villains.

Hydra was something of a non-issue now. The organization was utterly destroyed, only a few scattered individuals were still in the wind. I guess you could count the Scarlet Witch as one of them. She had been evading detection remarkably well. Whether she had been trained for such a scenario or was relying on her powers to remain hidden, I couldn't tell. Her brother had certainly been less than helpful when being questioned.

And of course, there was mysterious Hellfire Club. If I had been an optimist, I may have thought that they were scared of being found out and had receded. Sadly, I had a feeling that they were content in just working outside my range of perception. There was nothing left but wait until they moved out in the open again.

All in all, it left me with enough room to concentrate on the big one. Thanos.

The next Infinity Stone I would be coming into contact with was the Reality Stone. I had a plan for that one.

What irked me was the Power Stone.

By all accounts, I had the means of going out and looking for it or the future Guardians. It would be as simple as slapping one of my near-indestructible cases on it after all the happenings of the movie. Make it hard to find, make it hard to open.

My memory of the locations the movie portrayed may not have been good enough to portal there, and yet I had learned scrying for exactly this kind of situation.

So why was I hesitating?

Well. Space.

I may have survived my time of training; my phobia however had not disappeared. No chance in hell.

If only I could have been less scared, less emotional-

Thereabouts were my thoughts when I laid eyes on Bert lounging around in my apartment.

I blinked.

'No, that would be a crazy idea,' I scoffed mentally and looked away.

…

'But is it…?'

AN:

100k words! (by my count without ANs and such) Yay!

Just Dance had me going with the childhood nostalgia this chapter :P