Chapter 4
After breakfast, they all moved to the common room where Tony continued going on about modern necessities.
“Alright, first things first—cell phones,” Tony announced, placing a sleek black device on the table in front of Noah.
Noah picked it up gingerly, turning it over in his hands. It was thin, impossibly smooth, and the screen was black as ink. “This is a phone?” he asked, skeptical.
“That,” Tony declared, “is a smartphone. It does pretty much everything. Calls, messages, news, music, videos—"
“It fits in your pocket,” Sam added helpfully.
Noah frowned. “Where’s the cord?”
Natasha let out a quiet chuckle, and Steve pressed a hand over his mouth, probably suppressing a smile.
“No cord,” Tony said, grabbing the phone and pressing a button on the side. The screen lit up, and Noah nearly jerked back in surprise.
He was being pranked.
“No cord,” Tony repeated, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s wireless. Has its own power source. Runs on—” He paused, glancing at Bruce. “Eh, science stuff.”
Bruce sighed.
Noah stared at the glowing screen. His reflection stared back at him, and below it, some numbers.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.
“The time,” Bucky said. “Phones are also clocks now.”
Noah blinked. “You’re tellin’ me this thing replaced watches and telephones?”
Tony grinned. “Oh, buddy, you have no idea.”
Noah looked up at Steve. “And you got used to this?”
Steve shrugged. “Took a while. But yeah.”
Noah stared at the device again, then muttered, “Maybe I was better off dead.”
Tony cackled.
After about twenty minutes of painful technology explanations—WiFi, the internet, social media (which Noah immediately decided to avoid), and something called Google—they finally let up.
Noah sighed, leaning back on the couch. “That was awful,” he muttered.
“You’ll get used to it,” Steve assured him.
“Doubt it,” Noah said.
Bucky smirked. “That’s what I said too.”
Tony pointed at them. “And look at you now—fully domesticated.”
Bucky rolled his eyes.
The conversation settled into a lull before Sam leaned forward from his place and looked at Noah. “Alright, Noah. So can you tell us about yourself?”
Clint snorted, “What is this, elementary?”
Sam shot him a look. “My bad, didn’t realize getting to know the time-traveling soldier was too juvenile for you.”
Noah raised a brow. “What do you want to know?”
Sam shrugged. “Anything. We don’t exactly have records on you. What was life like back then? What’s your story?”
Noah hesitated. But Steve and Bucky watched him expectantly, and the rest of the team looked genuinely interested.
Leaning back, Noah exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the weight of old memories. “Brooklyn, born and raised. Same as these two.” He jerked his chin toward Steve and Bucky. “We ran the streets together—scrapped, got into trouble, tried not to freeze to death in the winters. It wasn’t the fancy part of town, but it was home.”
Steve huffed a quiet laugh. “Wasn’t much scrappin’ on your end, though. You always kept us from getting into fights.”
Bucky smirked. “Yeah, right up until he was the one throwin’ punches.”
Noah shrugged, lips quirking just slightly. “Someone had to keep you two in one piece.”
His fingers tapped absently against the table before stilling. “My ma, she did the raising on her own. Tough as they come. Didn’t take lip from nobody. Didn’t matter how bad things got, we always found a way through. She worked herself ragged to keep a roof over our heads. It wasn’t much but it was enough.”
His smile faded just a little. “Then the war came.”
The room quieted.
“We all ended up in it one way or another,” Noah said, voice steady. “Didn’t get assigned to the Howlies, though. Didn’t even serve with these two. Got sent somewhere else, different unit, different mission. The kind of work that didn’t make it into the papers.” His fingers tapped against the table, then stilled. “But war’s war, no matter where they put you.”
He told them about it—the missions, the exhaustion, the kind of brotherhood forged in the thick of battle. He didn’t tell them everything. Some things weren’t meant to be said out loud. But he told them enough.
By the time he finished, the room was quiet.
Sam tilted his head. “So… did you have a guy?”
Noah raised a brow. “A what?”
Tony waved a hand. “You know—the Rogers to your Barnes, the Barnes to your Rogers. The poor bastard who got stuck with you through thick and thin, ‘til the bitter end.”
Noah huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I had one.”
He hesitated for a moment, then said the name.
“Barton.”
Silence stretched for a second too long.
Sam raised a brow. “Barton?”
Clint, who had been quiet up until now, straightened slightly.
Noah nodded. “That’s right.”
“Back at the apartment, the picture,” Steve asked, “was he the one with you?”
Noah didn’t react right away, but something in his posture shifted—just a little, just enough. His shoulders lost that easy set, the tension creeping in slow, like something pulling tight beneath his skin. His gaze dropped, and for a moment, he looked tired—like the memory weighed more than he was willing to admit.
Bucky didn’t blink. “Was it him?”
Noah’s jaw tightened—just a fraction.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “That was Barton.”
Something flickered across Clint’s face—he didn’t speak, but Noah could see it, the gears turning, trying to put the pieces together.
“It had been us back then,” Noah continued, his voice wavering, a hand coming up to clutch something hidden under his shirt.
Barton had been sharp—quick on his feet, quicker with a plan. He had a habit of coming up with the dumbest ideas while Noah followed him into them anyway. Stubborn as hell. Reliable as hell, too.
“If there was trouble, odds were we were right in the thick of it,” Noah admitted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Always told him he was a magnet for chaos. He always said I was the one who found it.”
“You sound fond of him,” Wanda remarked, watching him closely.
Noah blinked. “I—yeah, I guess.”
Natasha smirked. “You guess.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “He was my best friend.”
Through every mission, every near-death moment, Barton had been there.. If Noah was breathing, Barton had something to do with it. If there was one person Noah knew he could count on back then, it had been him.
“He kept me alive more times than I can count,” Noah said simply. “And I’d like to think I did the same for him.”
That was just how it was.
Noah swallowed, his thumb brushing over the worn metal. His own name was familiar—etched into his skin as much as the tag itself. But the other…
His fingers curled around it, holding tight like it might slip through his grasp if he let go.
No one spoke, but he could feel their eyes on him. Heavy. Knowing.
Steve’s gaze flickered down first, then Bucky’s. Natasha, too—sharp-eyed, reading between the lines. Clint’s expression was unreadable, but his jaw had gone tight. Wanda sat forward slightly, her brows furrowed, feeling the weight of emotion in the room before anyone said a word. Tony, sitting off to the side, crossed his arms but didn’t crack a joke this time. Sam had gone still, his usual easy expression dimming. Vision, silent as ever, observed, his head tilting slightly. Bruce frowned, watching carefully but not interrupting.
Noah exhaled slowly.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
The weight of the tags said enough.
With careful, deliberate movement, he pulled the chain from beneath his collar. The metal clinked softly, catching the dim light as two dog tags slipped free. One was his own—familiar, worn, a piece of him that had survived long past when it should’ve. The other—
Barton, Clyde.
His grip tightened for a moment before he forced himself to ease it. He felt the weight of memory settle in his chest, the echo of a voice that wasn’t there anymore.
Clyde’s hand had been shaking when he pressed the tag into Noah’s palm. "You get outta here, Bishop. One of us oughta."
Noah had tried to argue. Clyde just smirked—that same damn smirk, even at the end. And then… he was gone.
Noah’s breath was slow, controlled, but his fingers pressed hard against the metal, as if trying to ground himself in something tangible.
Tony exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Well. That explains some things.” His voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual sharp edge.
Sam let out a sign, shaking his head. “Damn, man.”
Bruce didn’t speak, just watched, his expression thoughtful.
Wanda, gaze flickering between Noah and Clint, pressed her lips together. “He mattered to you,” she said, quiet but certain.
Noah swallowed hard, nodding once.
Steve’s jaw tightened as he looked at the name. His eyes flickered up to Noah’s, something heavy settling in his expression. He’d seen that look before—felt it before. The weight of carrying someone who never made it home.
Bucky, arms crossed, let out a slow breath through his nose. His gaze lingered on the tag before shifting back to Noah, something sharp behind his eyes. Understanding. Recognition.
Natasha, silent until now, leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on her knees. Her gaze was steady, calculating—not in a cold way, but in the way of someone piecing things together. “You’ve been holding onto that for a long time,” she murmured.
Across the table, Clint stared at the tag in Noah’s hand like it held an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Noah exhaled, voice quieter now. “I was supposed to bring it home.”
For a long moment, no one spoke.
And then, finally, Clint nodded. Just once. Barely there.
Noah closed his fist around the tags, feeling the weight of both names pressed into his palm.
The silence sat heavy between them, pressing down like the years between then and now weren’t so far apart after all.
Noah exhaled, slow and steady, fingers still curled tight around the dog tags like they might slip away if he let go. His thumb brushed over the engraving—Barton, Clyde—tracing the letters like he could bring them back just by remembering.
“Fella had a way of getting under your skin,” he continued, voice quieter now, rougher around the edges. “Didn’t matter how much hell we were in, he always had some smart remark up his sleeve, some damn fool idea to get us outta it.”
He huffed a breath, but there wasn’t any real amusement in it.
“Knew how to make do. We didn’t have half the things you got now. Just a rifle, a steady hand, and whatever luck we had left. But him?” Noah shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t matter if the odds were stacked sky-high, he always found a way to even ‘em.”
He let out a slow breath, gaze unfocused, looking past them, past the room, past now.
“Damn idiot got himself killed saving my hide.”
The words weren’t loud. Weren’t meant to be.
But they sat there, heavy, like lead in the air.
Natasha’s gaze softened just a fraction. Bucky inhaled sharply, looking away for a beat, jaw tight. Wanda’s hands folded together in her lap, fingers pressing against each other like she could hold the weight of the emotion she was picking up. Bruce’s eyes flickered to Clint, watching for a reaction. Steve—Steve just nodded, slow and knowing, like he understood in a way not many could.
Clint’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes locked on the tag still clutched in Noah’s grip.
Noah rolled the metal between his fingers. “Told him not to. Told him it was a stupid idea.” His voice dropped, hoarse. “Did it anyway.”
A breath. A pause.
“Clyde Barton wasn’t the kinda man you forgot.”
Noah finally looked up, meeting Clint’s gaze — really looking at him now, not just seeing, but remembering.
“You look like him,” he admitted, voice lower now, like it cost him something to say.
Clint’s fingers twitched where they rested on his arms. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were searching.
His throat worked around the words before they finally came, rough and unsteady.
“It’s hard to look at you,” he acknowledged, voice quieter now, heavier. “Didn’t place it at first. When you introduced yourself earlier, I knew you reminded me of him, but I didn’t realize that you looked the same. Think I just wasn’t ready to see it.” He let out a slow breath, shaking his head.
He turned the tag over in his palm, fingers running along the worn edges.
“Clyde Barton,” he murmured, almost to himself. “That son of a bitch.”
His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it. Just something hollow, something raw.
The room stayed silent, but Clint’s expression shifted—something between understanding and something else, something unspoken.
Noah inhaled deeply, gaze still fixed on the tag.
“Damn near impossible, looking at you.”
The room turned tense but Tony, never one for lingering silence, leaned forward with a frown. “Okay, hold on a second. You’re telling me we’ve got a whole picture of you and Barton sitting pretty at the apartment, which Cap and Barnes here, just saw a day ago, and you couldn’t put two and two together?” He shot them both a look. “What gives?”
Steve exhaled, his jaw tightening. “It was an old photo—faded, worn down. We could make out faces, but…” He hesitated, eyes flickering to Noah. “We didn’t have the name to go with it.”
Bucky nodded, his brows furrowed, glaring at stark
Tony huffed, shaking his head. “Right. Because obviously, it’s more fun when we have to solve a decades-old mystery like we’re in some noir flick.”
Noah let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t exactly plan on it being a secret. Just… wasn’t in a rush to talk about it.”
Clint, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up. “Guess I know why you looked at me funny when we met.”
Noah let out a breath. “Yeah. Took a second to place it, but once I did…” He waved a hand at Clint. “It’s weird, man.”
Clint snorted. “Tell me about it.”
Sam exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, hold up—because I feel like I just got tossed in the deep end without a damn life jacket.” He gestured vaguely between Noah and Clint. “Let me get this straight. You—” he pointed at Noah, “—had a guy back in the day. That guy was also a Barton. And that Barton is…gone. And now, this Barton—” he pointed at Clint, “— just so happens to exist, looking exactly that Barton? Same attitude, same ‘magnet for trouble’ energy, same self-sacrificing act? And none of ya’ll are even remotely freaked out by that?
Noah nodded once. “That about sums it up.”
Sam blinked. “Man.” He shook his head. “I—okay, but how? Are we talking some long-lost relative situation? A reincarnation thing? Some ‘history repeats itself’ nonsense?”
Tony hummed, intrigued. “That would explain why Legolas over here has nine lives.”
Clint shot him a flat look. “Not helping, Stark.”
Bruce adjusted his glasses, glancing between them all. “It is unusual. Genetics could explain a resemblance, but an exact match like this, decades apart? That’s a stretch.”
Vision, who had been silent up until now, observed Clint carefully. “It is a fascinating occurrence. If there is no direct lineage, then the probability of two individuals being so physically similar is remarkably low.”
Natasha leaned forward, elbow on the table, watching Clint with something unreadable in her expression. “You sure you don’t have any long-lost family?”
Clint let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I was sure, but now? I don’t know what the hell to think.”
Sam threw his hands up. “See? This is what I’m saying! Nothing about this makes sense.”
Steve, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke. “It wouldn’t be the first strange thing to happen. We’ve seen crazier things than this.”
Bucky nodded. “Doesn’t mean it’s not weird, though.”
Wanda, sitting quietly beside Vision, finally spoke up. “Sometimes, things don’t need to make sense.” Her voice was soft, thoughtful. “Sometimes, people find each other again, one way or another.”
Tony snapped his fingers at that, looking thoroughly amused, his grin wide. “Or, or— wait, ok, listen to me. What if — What if it’s like, guy gets brought back from the dead, wakes up in a completely different world, and what does the universe do? Drops him right into the lap of a man who looks exactly like his lost love.” He gestured wildly, his grin sharp. “Come on, this is fate, people! A love story for the ages. The universe is all but handing you a dramatic reunion.”
“Alright, first off,” Noah started, raising a hand. “Me and Barton weren’t—”
"Tony, not now," Steve interrupted, firm but not unkind.
Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stark, I swear to God—”
“What?” Tony threw his hands up, “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,”
“We aren’t all thinking that,” Clint muttered.
Sam gestured at Clint. “Yeah, no offense, man, but I don’t know if I buy that. You look like you’re two seconds away from having an existential crisis.”
Clint opened his mouth, then closed it, looking distinctly unimpressed.
Bruce cleared his throat. “Scientifically speaking, if reincarnation were real—”
Tony pointed at him. “See? Even Science Dad thinks this is weird.”
Bruce continued, ignoring Tony’s interruption. “Genetically speaking, there’s almost no chance of an exact match like this without a direct lineage. It’s improbable.”
“Right, which would be interesting,” Noah cut in, “but before we get ahead of ourselves—me and Barton weren’t—”
Tony smirked. “Improbable? That’s Stark-speak for ‘definitely happening.’”
Vision tilted his head, considering. “There are theories of quantum entanglement that suggest—”
“For the love of—” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you, Barton and I weren’t—”
Clint groaned. “Oh, for—can we not turn my face into a science experiment?”
Natasha, who had simply been observing, finally spoke. “What do you think?”
Noah rolled his eyes, expression annoyed. “Oh so now you're gon' let me talk." He crossed his arms,"I think Stark’s got an imagination bigger than his common sense.”
“That’s not a denial,” Tony shot back.
“Because you won’t let me finish a damn sentence!” Noah huffed. “Me and Barton weren’t lovers, sweethearts, or any of that hooey. We were partners, friends, brothers-in-arms—”
Wanda raised a brow. “That sounds a lot like denial.”
Noah threw up his hands. “Oh, for crying out loud!”
Noah sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, trying to calm himself down. “Look, I don’t know what this is. Maybe it’s just bad luck. Maybe it’s the universe screwin’ with me. Either way, I don’t reckon it matters much.”
Wanda tilted her head. “It doesn’t?”
There was a brief pause before Sam let out a long breath, shaking his head. “Man, I don’t know. This whole thing is weird.”
Tony grinned. “Weird? This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”
Steve sighed, but there was a small twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just take it one step at a time, alright?”
Bucky crossed his arms. “Yeah. Before Stark starts planning a wedding.”
Tony snapped his fingers. “Damn, and here I was, already picking out color schemes.”
“There should definitely be purple,” Natasha added, smiling, “It’s Clint’s color after all.”
As the conversation continued to spiral, Sam shook his head, exhaling. “Alright, maybe we should give the guy a break. His lover just died, after all—”
Noah practically exploded. “For the last damn time—we weren’t lovers!”
The entire room went silent.
Sam’s eyes widened, and he immediately held up his hands. “Shit—sorry! That was—that was outta line. I wasn’t trying to make light of it, I swear.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, man. I know he meant a lot to you.”
Noah jabbed a finger at him, expression tight. “It was illegal! You hear me? Illegal. That kinda thing could land a man behind bars—or worse. And we weren’t—” He let out a sharp breath, visibly restraining himself. “Goddamn it.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then—
“So,” Tony said, far too casually, “if it wasn’t illegal, would you have been?”
Noah made a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan before throwing his hands in the air. “I hate all of you!”
Tony grinned. “See, I feel like that’s not a no.”
Noah thought it was finally over when Wanda, of all people, tilted her head slightly and asked, “What was his name?”
Noah let out a sharp breath, like he was already regretting answering. “Clyde.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Seriously?” Sam deadpanned, looking between him and Clint. “Clint, Clyde—that’s basically the same name.”
Clint looked at him with a flat expression. “Literally only the ‘C’ is the same.”
Vision, ever precise, corrected him. “That is inaccurate. The ‘Cl’ sound is identical in both names.”
Bruce nodded. “And they do have the same number of letters and syllables.”
Steve, arms crossed, gave Noah a considering look. “Clyde Barton, huh?” He exhaled through his nose, almost like a laugh. “Fitting.”
Noah and Clint narrowed their eyes at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Steve just shrugged. “Just sounds like the kinda name that belonged to a guy who got himself into trouble.”
Bucky, nodding, muttered, “Checks out.”
Noah huffed, exasperated. “You all got a real knack for runnin’ your mouths, you know that?” He shook his head, muttering, “Fella can’t even give a straight answer without gettin’ dogpiled.”
Sam smirked. “Oh, now you wanna give straight answers?”
Noah jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t start with me, Wilson.”
Sam held up his hands in surrender, but the grin stayed put.
Noah groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I officially regret openin’ my damn mouth.”
As the laughter and teasing died down, the room settled into a more comfortable quiet. The weight of everything that had been said still lingered, but it wasn’t as suffocating as before.
Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, still processing. “So… Clyde Barton.” He shook his head, exhaling. “Guess I’ve got more in common with this guy than I thought.”
Noah gave him a long look, something unreadable in his expression, before shrugging. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just ‘cause you look like ‘im, don’t mean you are him.” He tapped the dog tag against the table once. “But I ain’t gonna lie—it’s damn eerie.”
Tony, ever the instigator, grinned. “Well, if nothing else, it makes for one hell of a story.”
Bucky snorted. “Not even in my top five.”
Steve shook his head, amused. “I don’t even want to know what those are.”
Noah just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I need a drink.”
Sam grinned. “Now that’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense.”
There was a general murmur of agreement, and just like that, the tension in the air loosened, shifting from the weight of the past to the pull of the present.
Wanda smiled softly, exchanging a glance with Vision, who gave the smallest nod—an unspoken acknowledgment that things felt lighter now. Bruce, who had spent the conversation half-wondering if he should take notes on the sheer absurdity of it all, simply exhaled, relieved that Noah no longer looked like he was carrying the weight of two lifetimes at once.
Even Natasha, who rarely let emotions show, looked just a bit more at ease, watching as Noah finally, finally seemed to let himself breathe.
“Alright, then,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “Drinks it is. Someone get the man a whiskey before he starts brooding again.”
Noah huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, keep runnin’ your mouth, Stark.”
Tony smirked. “Oh, I will.”
And just like that, the conversation moved forward, shifting into something easier, something normal. They weren’t done unraveling this strange mystery, not by a long shot. But for now, nobody cared.
Because for the first time since this all started, Noah didn’t look like a ghost in his own skin. And that was enough.