Reunion

01

Natasha stepped into the underground vault, followed by a metal figure in gleaming red and gold armor. She immediately slipped outside to stand watch, leaving Tony alone with the other three.

Wanda sat on her heels against one wall, quickly glancing at Tony. Sam stood by the open door, letting out a grunt. Tony hesitated before turning his gaze to the third figure in the room.

It was the first time Tony had seen Steve since Barnes died. Steve stood near the back wall, feet planted shoulder-width apart, spine ramrod-straight, arms at his sides—the same unshakable stance Tony remembered. But otherwise he looked different: his uniform dark and rumpled, his blond hair streaked with gray, his ice-blue eyes narrowing coldly when they settled on Tony. At least he hadn’t attacked—or roared. A promising start, Tony thought.

“Can you figure out what this is?” Steve was the first to speak, his gaze flicking toward the center of the vault. His voice was flat.

Tony let his eyes sweep the room. It looked exactly like the photos he’d seen of the Washington D.C. Hydra cache: a square chamber, one wall lined with lockers clearly meant for weapons, med-kits, and tools; the opposite wall strewn with a smashed-to-bits metal chair and ugly mechanical devices—the remnants of one of the Winter Soldier’s “maintenance stations.”

But none of that was why Tony had been brought here.

Floating a few feet off the floor in the center of the vault was what looked like a doorway made of pure golden light. Within its frame the light warped and twisted into a misty haze. Natasha had briefed him on the phone—this underground vault in Bern had once been a Hydra stronghold, dormant under their surveillance until Wanda’s power detected an energy fluctuation two nights ago. Then they’d discovered the portal.

Tony refocused on Steve’s sharp stare and inhaled. “Steve, listen to me, I did some digging. I can’t say now I know everything Hydra did to Barnes—but I can see what you were trying to say now. My parents—”

Steve cut him off mid-sentence. “This wasn’t here last time we came.” His eyes never left the light-door. “Things would pass through it but nothing came out the other side. I suspect it’s some leftover Hydra experiment, but Wanda can’t detect its nature.” He didn't respond to anything Tony said. Like he didn't hear Tony at all.

Tony swallowed and took a deep breath. He tried again, even admiring himself for his courage: “Steve, listen—I never intended to kill Barnes. I lost my mind that day, you know that—look, I know how much he means to you—”

“I assume you’re here to figure out what that is, or how to destroy it. Not for other distractions.” Steve finally looked at Tony. His face cold, his jaw tightened, his voice low and controlled.

Tony swallowed again, fell silent, shifting his weight.

Steve turned away from Tony and fixed his gaze on the portal. Tony sighed inwardly, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the light. He circled it twice, eyes scanning every contour, then raised an armored fist and fired a concentrated repulsor beam into the shimmering mist. The instant the beam hit, it dispersed into a cloud, vanishing without a trace.

He tested several other energy outputs—laser pulses, electromagnetic bolts—recording each decay curve, then sampled the portal’s own radiance. Tony flipped up his helmet visor and, in a low voice, gave FRIDAY instructions to run a full spectral analysis.

After what felt like an eternity, he lowered his visor again.

Steve looked up. “What is it?”

Tony cleared his throat. “It’s an energy matrix—probably designed to alter the continuity of time. The reason nothing you threw through appeared on the other side isn’t a break in space, it’s a twist in time.”

“So it’s a time-travel portal?” Sam asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “You could say that.”

“It can reach the past, then?” Steve’s tone was level, but Tony sensed a sudden undercurrent of tension.

“I don’t think so,” Tony said, forcing himself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Photon decay vectors show that even if it warps time, it leads forward—from now into the future.” He frowned. “But some of the data is still inconsistent. Also, the matrix needs a generator on its far side. FRIDAY is sending a drone armor—Mark 47—to scout that side. ETA: 3 hours, 38 minutes.”

So they waited.

Although the vault was abandoned, they took turns patrolling the corridors outside. When Sam returned, Steve rose and strode off to stand guard.

Tony exhaled in relief. "Finally." He said.

“Oh, you’d think we’d welcome you more warmly,” Sam teased.

“I dropped half a meal and the prototype from halfway across the Atlantic for one phone call from Nat,” Tony grumbled. “Pepper never pulls me out of the lab this fast.”

“You should stop bringing that up,” Wanda snapped, staring him down, a faint crimson glow wisping around her fingers. “What are you looking for? 'I forgive you?' 'Let's be friends?' The only reason he didn't kill you is because he is Steve.”

“I know I made a mistake, okay?” Tony’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes. I regret it. ”

“Regret couldn't bring Barnes back.” Sam said, voice cold. “I’d bet I regret it more than you do. I was the one who told you they were in Siberia.”

“Then what do you want from me? He did kill my parents.” Tony bit his lip. “I researched. I came to apologize. But he just—acts like he hasn’t heard me.”

“Oh, you can just shut up. Keep your apology to yourself,” Wanda hissed. “He has no forgiveness that could be spared to you. He barely forgives himself.”

“When he’s off mission, he locks himself in his room,” Wanda continued. “He won’t eat, leaves the lamp off for days—even at night. He sits in the dark for hours, barely sleeps, barely moves. He doesn’t talk to anyone except during ops.”

She pinned Tony with a fierce look. “Steve’s not here anymore. What’s standing in his place is just a body called Duty—and we’re terrified we’ll lose that too. We scour the world for threats just to keep him with us.”

Tony’s throat went dry. Wanda’s words painted a portrait that churned his stomach.

“He is Steve Rogers. He won't fall.” Natasha said quietly from the doorway. “He knows Barnes wouldn’t want him to fall.”

But he fell the last time. Somewhere in Tony’s mind, a voice whispered, remembering the dozens of missions Howard Stark mounted to recover Captain America’s downed plane wreckage. Tony had seen the grim records himself.

The whirr of approaching turbines announced Mark 47’s arrival—but the moment it stepped through the portal, it froze mid-stride like a stone and collapsed.

Tony checked its diagnostics. He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“A reverse-phase magnetic field,” Tony said. “I can fix it—but it’ll take time. Until then Mark 47 can’t pass through. Even if I shoved it through, it’d be scrap metal on the other side.”

“Can’t you just destroy the portal?” Steve asked.

“I’d have to dismantle its generator,” Tony said. “We could blow it up, but given its energy density, you’d need at least sixteen kilotons—roughly the yield of the Hiroshima bomb. And if I detonate it, the blast would pass right through the portal—into an unknown time.” He fired a test shot at the gateway; the plasma bolt vanished inside, leaving no damage.

“So someone has to go through and find the generator,” Steve said quietly.

“Or I keep working on a solution,” Tony replied, reading Steve’s expression. “I don’t think you barging in is a good plan—you don’t know how it works, and you don’t know how to get back.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Steve said.

“No. I will,” Tony insisted. “If we send one person, it has to be me.”

Steve’s gaze bore into him. “You armor can't pass the door. You can’t handle whatever’s on the other side.”

“If my math’s right, the time shift is under ten years,” Tony shrugged. “I can suit up again—find myself another Mark suit to bring along.”

Steve’s face remained stoic, but his eyes were steel. “You don’t know whether you’ll even make it to yourself.”

“Steve,” Tony met his stare, “I’m the one most likely to succeed. You can't even figured out what this is, let alone the generator—You know I’m the only one who could. If you had any other option, you wouldn’t have called me.”

“Anyway, I’m the last person you want to see,” Tony added wryly. “So if anything goes wrong—it’s okay.”

Steve studied him for a long moment before finally saying, “I’m coming with you.”

Tony shrugged out of his suit jacket, leaving on his Tom Ford three-piece, held his breath, and followed Steve into the portal.

Passing through felt like nothing more than closing and reopening your eyes. The vault environment remained unchanged—except that suddenly Steve halted, and Tony ran straight into his back. He braced for an attack, but Steve stayed motionless.

Tony stepped around him—and froze.

Standing guard at the vault’s sole exit was a fully armed man, his SIG MPX leveled squarely at them, finger resting on the trigger.

It was Bucky Barnes.

“Bucky?” Steve’s shield lowered a fraction as if he’d spoken in his sleep—tentative, almost afraid the moment would shatter.

Barnes’ brow furrowed. He scanned behind Steve, gun unwavering, then back at Steve again.

“You said we couldn’t go back,” Steve whispered, voice trembling just under control.

“I said that,” Tony replied, eyes darting between the portal and Barnes. “Which explains the data inconsistency. This timeline isn’t a perfect match for ours, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“Parallel timeline,” Tony said. “Steve, remember the film That Night the Comet Came?”

Steve replied nothing. But Barnes suddenly answered, voice calmly, “Yeah. Situation here.”

“Who is he talking to?” Tony asked warily, glancing at the comm-link in Barnes’s ear and the steady muzzle of that MPX.

Steve unclenched his shield hand. “Bucky,” he said.

“Yeah, James?” came a voice Tony recognized all too well as Helmut Zemo’s. Zemo strode through the vault entrance, cool and composed. “Oh—Captain America. And Iron Man?”

“Zemo!” Steve shouted, hurling his shield. Zemo didn’t flinch, but in an instant Barnes intercepted the shield, catching it mid-air. Steve’s face went white.

Tony instinctively stepped back. Barnes still had Zemo covered—and Tony was unarmored. They were screwed.

But seconds passed with no shot fired. Barnes stared at the shield in his hand, disbelief in his eyes. Then, softly: “Steve? It is you?”

He reholstered his MPX and walked forward.

Steve didn’t take his eyes off him until Barnes handed back the shield. “You know who I am,” Steve said.

“You’re Steve,” Barnes replied, still half-dazed. “God—I thought you were a hologram trick, or… I saw you with Stark.”

Tony shifted uneasily. What did that mean?

“You are protecting Zemo.” Steve stated, searching Barnes' face.

“Oh, it is not that he is still in my head,” Barnes smiled self-deprecatingly. “Zemo isn’t a threat anymore, Steve.”

Tony wasn’t satisfied, but Steve looked incapable of thought. He stared at Barnes from head to toe as though he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Barnes exhaled, arms opening.

With a heavy thunk, the shield landed at Steve’s feet. Steve gasped like he’d forgotten to breathe and then charged forward, pulling Barnes into a fierce embrace.

Time froze. Tony turned away, heart pounding. They’d all said to Steve, “I know what Barnes means to you.” But did any of them really know?

Tony’s eyes flicked to Zemo, who stood with his hands loosely clasped, watching the two friends reunite with an unreadable expression. The same man who masterminded Siberia’s horrors now shared a quiet camaraderie with Barnes. Tony couldn’t make sense of it.

Around them, the vault was unchanged—except for the intact metal chair that had somehow survived—and a new scorch mark on the opposite wall where Tony’s repulsor blast had struck the portal.

Barnes patted Steve’s back and said softly, “Steve?”

Steve loosened his arms and stepped back.

“Steve?” Barnes searched his face. “What’s wrong?”

Steve just stood, gazing at him.

“You two came from… where, Steve? Why did you come through there?” Barnes asked.

“James, you should ask when we came from,” Zemo interjected from the doorway. “His reaction was fascinating. Post 2019?”

“What about 2019?” Steve’s eyes never left Barnes’s. “What year is it now?”

“Oh. So not 2019,” Zemo said, blinking. “2018? 2017? You both don't look like just finishing a fight.”

Steve glared at him.

“Now it’s 2026, Steve,” Barnes said. 

“What do you know about this portal?” Tony asked.

Barnes turned to him. “Nothing. We’re just guarding it. Sam couldn’t reach Bruce, so Shuri will be here in two days. But since you’re here—nobody is more capable for this than you.” Barnes pulled a palm-sized metal tablet from his pocket and handed it to Tony. “A Flag-Smashers cell made this vault their base. One of them stole this device in London and opened the portal. We caught him, but this thing… might be alien.”

Tony took the tablet and examined it.

Steve asked, “Bucky, why is Zemo here? Why are you with him?”

“Zemo and I were investigating something for Wakanda—we were in Europe when Sam called. So we came.”Barnes replied. 

Steve’s brow furrowed. Zemo smiled. “I’m glad to see you too, Steve.”

In a shimmer of light, the portal winked out. Tony snapped his head up, pocketed the tablet, and lobbed a spent shell casing at the empty spot. It clattered to the floor.

“You shut it down?” Barnes asked in surprise.

“I think so—and I can reopen it,” Tony said, excitement plain on his face. “If I’m right, this device makes not only a time matrix but a space matrix too. But to figure that out, I need technical support. Can you contact… myself? I assume present-day me isn’t living at Avengers Tower?”

Barnes blinked. “No—you’re not there anymore.”

“Could you find me?” Tony pressed.

Barnes hesitated. “If you want, I can contact Pepper, your wife.”

“Pepper… what? My wife?” Tony gaped. “I… I married Pepper? Oh—oh my God, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Barnes still looked uncertain. Tony thought he understood why.

“Am I on bad terms with you?” Tony asked, glancing at Steve, then back to Barnes. “Relax—I won’t have myself fight you.” He paused, voice softening, “And—my parents. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Steve scoffed.

Barnes gave Tony a surprised look and shook his head. “Thank you for saying that.” He thought for a moment, then decided: “Since you’ve shut it down, we don’t need to stay here. I’ll leave word for Shuri. ”

They left the vault and found a black stretch limo waiting nearby. Zemo slid into the seat beside Barnes; Steve sat across from him, eyes cold on Zemo. Tony rode beside them, still dizzy from the revelation that he’d married Pepper.

Thirty minutes later they arrived at the Berner Bär & Löwe Palace Hotel—five stars, not an airport terminal.

“Steve could use a proper change,” Zemo said, taking a keycard from the driver with a faint smile. “And James hasn’t rested for days. I suggest we take some rest tonight. Wakanda’s jet arrives at first light, then we can move on wherever you wish.”

“I like that plan,” Tony said, still tense. He’d dressed respectfully to see Steve—now, knowing he was also meeting his own wife, he desperately wanted a silk suit and a shower.

“Where’s Bucky’s room?” Steve demanded, eyeing Zemo’s hand as he offered the cards—only one card remained. “You two sharing?”

Before Zemo could answer, Barnes took the spare card from him. “I’ll share with Steve,” Barnes said. “You can have your own.”

Zemo met Barnes's eyes. A moment later, Zemo’s lips curved. “Of course, James—anything you wish.” He laid a hand on Barnes’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

Barnes’s eyes flicked, showing no protest. But the next instant, Zemo was shoved hard enough to tumble across the lobby. Steve’s breathing was harsh with  his forearm grabbed by Barnes.

“Steve,” Barnes said in a low voice. Steve’s eyes darted between Zemo and Barnes, equal parts outrage and concern.

Zemo staggered to his feet, clutching Barnes’s hand, stumbling but smiling with savage delight.