I was wrong. This isn't the final chapter. This ended up longer than I expected.
Less than a week has passed since the trial, and James sometimes still can't believe he's free to go places solely because he wants to, rather than being shipped to a new base or sent on a mission.
The inner voice states, unnecessarily, that the last mission he'd been sent on was in Surrey.
The upcoming trip to London feels significant, even if he hadn't been in London on that mission.
I only toured Europe during the war. Bucky's voice joins the conversation, never willing to let the programmed voice have the last word. Hard to do much sightseeing when you're being shot at.
James hopes he won't be shot at this time, that this trip will be more relaxing than fighting his programming while on the run with a small child, but he's not stupid. He'll still be watchful, wary, braced for an attack. James doesn't know if he'll ever drop the constant vigilance, as Moody would say.
There's more than a chance that some villain, or even angry civilians, will attack at the Olympics. Tensions have been high, Professor X puts far too mildly.
"The Olympics are about unity as much as they're about competition." Professor X is clearly hopeful that the event will unite the world in a way the alien invasion and recent reveals had further shaken it. "The rings symbolize the union of the five continents."
Steve shakes his head. "Back in thirty-six, Hitler was banning Jews from competing and using the Berlin Olympics to promote Nazi propaganda."
In the past several weeks, there's been much discussion on whether mutants or magical individuals should compete, and whether their powers give them an unfair advantage.
While debates rage on TV, Stark has turned it into a sort of game. He pats Thor's shoulder and says he'd kill at Hammer Throwing.
"Would you really kill someone?" Harry asks, wide-eyed.
Loki raises an incredulous eyebrow at Harry's naivety.
"I will not compete." Thor declares magnanimously. "It would not be just for an Asgardian to dominate a Midgardian competition."
Stark turns towards Logan. "Ever thought about taking up fencing? I guess an epee would feel like spaghetti compared to your claws, like if I armored myself in tin foil."
Logan grunts, not bothering to unsheathe his claws.
"I'm not doing the discus throw." Steve says, before Stark can bring it up.
"You already do." Stark says, before debating if James would qualify for the Paralympics, adding that his super strength would be an unfair asset. Steve marvels at the existence of the Paralympics; they hadn't existed back in the forties.
Stark calls Barton for the sole purpose of relentlessly attempting to convince him to join the United States archery team.
"I'm supposed to keep a low profile as an agent." Barton says, dryly.
"Yeah, well, you tossed that out the window by becoming an Avenger." Stark waves a hand. "Come on, you're totally ordinary. You're like these people's wet dreams."
"Someone wet the bed?" Harry asks, snickering behind his hands.
Barton and Stark both start smothering laughter, and James glares at them, silently commanding them not to reveal the real meaning. He's not going to have that talk with Harry for several years, if he has anything to say about it. Surely Barton should understand, with kids of his own.
"You're coming, right?" Harry demands, which only makes Barton and Stark laugh more. Harry gives Stark a withering look. "You're coming to the Olympics, right?!"
Stark casually mentions that he owns one property in London and two more elsewhere in England. "I'm sure the Prof's got a place there, too, being another billionaire and all. And a Brit."
"You know, Laura and I take the kids places. We do fun family things." Barton grouses. "I don't know why you act like I never let them leave the farm."
"You guys should have come to Coney Island." Harry complains right back. "And slept with us at the museum."
Barton raises his brows, both surprised and approving. "You've been having a ton of adventures, huh?"
"You bet." Stark sends a meaningful look at James. "What's the point of being free if you just lock yourself away in a mansion? Or a farmhouse. So, you with us? This can totally be a team bonding trip."
Barton's eyes narrow. "Hasn't Thor's brother been hanging around with you?"
"Tell Barton that I'm hardly interested in watching Midgardians compete with one another in physical pursuits." Loki says disdainfully from across the room.
Barton, of course, hears him. He appears to suppress a flinch before he fires back. "Wow, some caring king he would have been."
"I've been subjected to far too many displays of my dear brother's brutish conquests back in Asgard."
"Yet, you have no issue bringing your brutish conquests here." Barton glares, as if he could shoot Loki through the screen.
"I would expect you to be more understanding of how it feels to be under the scepter's control." Loki bites out.
Barton grinds his teeth. He is obviously aware that Loki wasn't fully in control, but Loki still controlled him.
"Saying I don't like you is an understatement, but the team seems to trust you. We've all gotten second chances."
James knows that Barton had been sent to assassinate Romanoff but had defied orders, seeing someone worth saving. He clearly isn't feeling quite as charitable towards Loki.
"Don't think I won't turn you into a porcupine if you come anywhere near my family."
Loki smirks. "Is that so? Nobody in your family has any magical abilities."
"I do!" Harry declares, then turns to try and placate Barton. "Loki's nice even if he always wins Go Fish. He got an egg for my dragon."
Barton raises his eyebrows. "You have a dragon?"
"It's a toy dragon from Coney Island." Harry says. "You could have won one too."
"We've got Lucky." Barton replies, and Harry nods seriously.
"Loki finds statues more interesting than your family." Stark tells Barton. "Trust me, you're safe."
Barton turns back to Stark. "If you start to pester Nat about joining the gymnastics team, save it until I'm in earshot, okay?"
Barton taps a finger over his hearing aid.
Harry is beside himself with anticipation. Every morning, the first question out of his mouth is whether they're leaving for the Olympics, followed by when they'll see the Bartons again.
James is happy that Stark has arranged this experience for his son, but is apprehensive about the seating arrangements.
According to Jarvis, the London Stadium seats over sixty thousand people. The thought of being surrounded by so many potential threats sends James' heart racing.
Stark says he could probably arrange for a private box, like the Queen will have. James' jaw clenches. A private box would broadcast their location to any potential enemies. James knows how to disappear in a crowd, and Black or Loki could help them literally disappear, but he doesn't feel settled.
Harry, glancing at James' face, deflates. "Are we not going?"
"You could hover over the stadium in the Blackbird, with stealth mode on." Stark suggests, half joking and half serious. "Otherwise, you can watch it televised like millions of other people."
"That's what I'm doing." Doctor Banner smiles self-consciously. "I don't do well in crowds."
James nods, not sure which he's agreeing to.
A few days later, a limousine pulls up in front of the mansion. "Happy!" Stark greets the driver who opens the other doors, then greets the Bartons as they climb out, all looking rather awestruck over their accommodations.
James notes that Barton keeps watch for any sign of Loki.
Barton appears equally appreciative over Stark's private jet. "SHIELD never arranged for me to fly first class for missions."
"I think that's the least of SHIELD's sins." Steve replies, face carefully blank.
"You had a quinjet." Stark snorts.
Barton raises an eyebrow back. "Look who's talking. As if you've ever flown with a commercial airline in your life."
Black looks around the jet, somewhat baffled.
Steve inspects the controls, and Stark says "It's autopilot, Cap. Besides, there's no way I'm letting you fly."
"Jerk." Steve says, though he's grinning.
Hey, that's me. Bucky's voice protests in James' head.
Cooper flops back in one of the padded chairs. "This is even better than when we went to Disney World."
Barton sinks into a chair beside his son. "You just ruined all my vacations for my kids. I could never pull this off."
"Of course not." Stark grins.
Harry stays close to James' side, clutching his hand, no doubt remembering the last time they flew in one of Stark's planes.
"We got witch hunted." Harry voices the thought aloud.
"Anyone trying to get to you has to get through me." Black says, almost snarling.
They take off alongside the Blackbird.
The flight is uneventful, but long. After twenty minutes, Harry starts to whine that Loki could have gotten them there in a blink.
Beast, perhaps noticing the look on Barton's face, begins to talk about how the journey is a pleasure in itself.
My journey sure wasn't, Bucky's voice is sour in James' mind. I wouldn't have minded skipping past decades of torture to where we are now.
CRYOFREEZE MAKES TIME SKIP, says the other voice.
You know damn well I didn't mean it like that, Bucky snipes back.
James shivers in the carefully climate-controlled cabin. Cryofreeze had been both a relief from the burning of the memory wipes and punishments as well as a torture all on its own.
James hears ice clink and shudders violently, before Stark says, kinder than usual "It's my drink, James."
James sees ice floating in Stark's glass. A flight attendant offers James one, but he doesn't trust himself not to break the glass.
Harry, Cooper and Lila keep up a steady stream of questions, mostly regarding their estimated time of arrival.
"How much longer?" Harry moans, bored of the miniature basketball hoop Stark has installed.
At last they touch down at another one of Stark's mansions. Harry, Lila and Cooper dash off to explore, playing hide-and-seek in the various rooms.
"I found a room under the stairs!" Cooper shouts, more excited about that one detail than the rest of the mansion. "Harry, we have a hideout!"
"I get to hide out too!" Lila yells, charging past them from where she'd been inspecting the ornate furniture.
"We came here to see the Olympics, not the underside of Stark's stairs." Barton calls after them, grinning and shaking his head at Laura.
Harry pokes his head out. "Let's see the Olympics."
"They don't start for another four days." Barton replies.
Stark gives a tour, saying the ground floor bedroom is reserved for the Professor.
By the end, the children are exhausted from the flight and exploration. James tucks Harry into bed, while the Barton parents tuck their children in another room.
On the second day, Black says he wants to take Harry to Godric's Hollow and pay respects to Lily and James Potter.
Black apparates them into a small town square.
The entire village of Godric's Hollow appears smaller than the grounds of Xavier's Institute.
James scans the church, the pub, the post office and the shops.
An obelisk sits in the center of the square, carved with names. Most likely casualties. James thinks there may be more casualties caused by his hands than the many names on the obelisk.
"Is that my mummy?" Harry asks, staring at the obelisk.
"And James." Black's voice catches and he nods. Both Black and Harry stare at the obelisk, as if they're seeing something else entirely.
Harry walks towards it. "Who's the baby?"
"That's you." Black tells him. Harry squints at it.
"There's no scar." Harry rubs his own.
"There's no scar in your photos." Black reminds him.
James has worked out that there must be a statue there, one he can't see. It makes him uneasy.
Black glances back at James. "There's still a charm on it."
"My first dad had glasses too." Harry shares, as if he doesn't have a whole album of photos back home, one he and Black had pored over. Harry turns to address the obelisk. "Mummy, this is my new Dad."
The villagers are giving them space, not out of fear, but out of kindness. They'd seemed unsurprised by the sudden appearance of their group.
"Welcome home, Harry." says one witch.
Harry blinks. "This isn't home."
"It is." Black rasps. "Or, it was."
He leads them down a cobbled street lined with cottages. One cottage appears to have fallen victim to a fire or explosion. The top is missing entirely, and James is suddenly reminded of what he did to Number Four, Privet Drive.
"It looks worse than the shrieking shack." Black mutters, mostly to himself. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the cottage, but he addresses James next. "You can see this one?"
James nods stiffly. He reads the sign which summarizes, in gold letters, what happened here on Halloween, nearly four years ago. The sign is covered in graffiti, messages from people who state they're behind Harry, that they hope he's well.
Black makes a wounded noise in his throat.
They make their way to the cemetery, and James once again can't help thinking that a cemetery of his victims would be much larger.
They're HYDRA's victims. Bucky insists in his head. You're HYDRA's victim.
The programmed voice commands him to FOCUS ON HARRY.
James puts his prosthesis on Harry's shoulder.
They find that their graves are already covered in flowers. James does not know if it's Stark's doing, or the villagers'. Likely both. Black conjures another bouquet with his wand.
"They'd be glad, you know." Black says, after a long stretch of silence. "Glad he's got you."
"And you." Harry says to Black. After another silence, he asks "Can we go back now?"
Black nods. "Come on. Let's go."