Letters to Milena
Once they returned to the safety of the compound, Tony Stark wasted no time in trying to secure a meeting with Zemo. However, the task proved to be more challenging than anticipated, given the complex and heightened security protocols that had been put in place following the disturbing news about the Hydra supersoldier. It was becoming increasingly clear that it might take several days before he would be granted access to Zemo.
During this waiting period, Natasha and Clint made the decision to go visit Clint’s family. They had unfortunately missed Cooper’s birthday due to the turmoil and chaos of the past few weeks. The reality of their lives often meant sacrificing personal moments for the greater good.
“Are you sure you can manage without me?” Natasha questioned, her tone laced with concern. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Steve who was leaning casually against the kitchen table.
“We’ll be fine, Nat. Don’t worry,” Steve reassured her, attempting to offer a comforting smile.
“Are you trying to convince yourself of that?” Clint interjected, appearing behind Natasha with two bags in his hands. One of them was likely filled with either birthday gifts for his son or perhaps, things stolen from Tony’s lab. His son always got a kick out of those.
Natasha chuckled at Clint’s joke, but there was a clear hint of concern etched in her expression. “Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Don’t worry, mom,” Steve retorted, his tone teasing even as he matched her serious gaze.
“I mean it,” she responded, her tone hardened as they embraced. There was an unspoken promise in her words, a silent understanding shared between them.
“Text when you get there, okay?” Steve requested, extending his hand to Clint for a firm handshake.
“Sure, dad,” Natasha retorted playfully, a glint of mischief in her eye as she slid into the elevator with Clint.
Meanwhile, Iris was in the lab with Bruce, tending to her wounds, while Sam was training outside with Wanda. Bucky was likely still in his room, isolating himself from the rest.
As Steve prepared some coffee, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to the base in Siberia. The images of the cells that resembled animal cages, the stench of mold and human waste ingrained in the walls, were still fresh in his mind. The doors were reinforced, as if they were designed to contain a wild beast, and the thin mattress, stained with blood, offered little comfort. The thought of Iris and Bucky enduring such miserable conditions was a painful realization. Yet, amidst all that suffering, they found solace in each other. They exchanged letters, shared sketches, and communicated through a hole in the wall that was small enough to remain a secret but wide enough for their hands to pass through. A small comfort in a sea of despair.
But even as his heart warmed at the thought of their connection, it faltered with a feeling of dread he recognized from the time he heard about Bucharest. Did she wake up whenever she heard the harsh slam of his cell door in the middle of the night? What stories did he tell her when he returned from a mission? Was he waiting awake when it was her turn to step outside? How often did they exchange letters? Was the opening in the wall wide enough for two hands to pass through? Did he let her touch his bloodied hands?
He knew he shouldn’t dwell on these thoughts, but he couldn’t ignore them either. He needed answers, he needed to understand the depths of what they’ve been through, now that they were all together again.
With a heavy heart, Steve entered his room and pulled out the stack of letters he’d retrieved from Iris’s cell in Siberia. He found himself staring at them for what felt like hours before finally mustering the courage to pick up the first one.
The yellowed paper was fragile, the hastily written words scattered across the page. It read,
"I can’t control it. I can’t reach him. I think about what you said, I think about you. Always."
His hand trembled as he picked up another paper, this one containing a drawing of a countryside landscape. He knew for a fact that Bucky didn’t know how to draw; he had always been awful at it since they were kids. Yet, on the page, the strokes of the pencil created a beautiful landscape, with flowers and horses, a cabin tucked away in the background. On the bottom left, a note read,
"One day you’ll see it. It’s way better in colors."
A feeling of betrayal started to creep in, but he forced himself to continue. One page contained a conversation. The stark contrast between their handwritings was a cruel reminder of what Hydra did to Bucky.
"Are you hurt?
Yes, don’t worry, I’m fine.
What happened?
Shot in the leg, bullet’s out, no problems. You?
I stole another book today during the mission, The Trial by Kafka. I’ll read it then it’s yours.
No, already read that, I think.
It’s the second time you remember.
I’m not dumb doll, I remember the stuff, I don’t remember the people."
Steve noticed that a part of the page was torn, but along the edge of the cut, there was some residue of something that looked like glue, as if something had been added later and then torn away. He rummaged through the papers until he found a piece that matched the cut. And he did, now wishing he hadn’t. His heart sank as he read Bucky’s words, written in his painfully familiar handwriting.
“You are the knife I turn inside myself; this is love.
-Letters to Milena, Kafka”
After reading the final letter, Steve sat back, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His fingers idly traced the text, each word stirring a mix of emotions within him.
He wanted to confront Bucky, to understand the depth of their relationship, but he knew he couldn’t. First of all because his mind was still too fragile, he needed time to recover, second of all, Bucky was his best friend, but this was also about Iris, about their shared past that he had no part of.
He felt the need to talk to someone. Natasha wasn’t around, and he was certain she would disapprove of him for breaching trust and privacy by reading those letters. He needed someone not as morally upright. He usually resented him for that, but now he found he had more in common with him than he was comfortable admitting.
Upon reaching the lab, he found him engrossed in his work, the low murmur of Tony’s voice filled the room.
“Stark?” Steve’s voice rang out, reverberating off the sleek metal walls of the vast, high-tech lab. At the sound, Tony glanced up from the intricate gadget he was working on, his dark eyebrows raising in surprise at the unexpected visitor.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man out of time himself, Captain America, deciding to grace my humble lab with his legendary presence,” Tony quipped. His sharp eyes scanned Steve’s weary expression, taking in the tired lines of his face. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“I just thought I’d drop by, see how everything’s going,” Steve replied, his response casual, almost too casual.
“Bullshit,” Tony retorted bluntly, pushing himself away from his desk with a swift roll of his chair. “Steve Rogers doesn’t wander into my lab just because he’s bored or lacks a better pastime,” his tone hardened, becoming more serious as he rose from his chair and faced Steve squarely. “So, tell me, Cap. What’s going on?”
“I…” Steve hesitated, his mind scrambling as he struggled to find the right words. But Tony, being his usual impatient self, didn’t wait for him to find his voice.
“Is this about Siberia?” Tony asked, his tone nonchalant despite the gravity of his question.
Steve looked taken aback, caught off guard, “How’d you…?”
Tony interrupted him, his voice steady, “Did you really think you were the only one who noticed those scattered pages lying in the cells?”
Steve fell silent, his gaze dropping to the polished concrete floor. He seemed to retreat into himself “I took them…and I read them,” he confessed.
Tony simply nodded, his gaze never leaving Steve. He wasn’t surprised, not really. He knew Steve well enough to understand his relentless pursuit for answers, his need to understand, to make sense of things that didn’t add up. But he also knew all too well that those answers wouldn’t always be easy to accept, or digest.
“That’s soooo not you Rogers” he chuckled to ease the tension “She really has changed you”
“Oh forget it” Steve shooked his head, already turning to the door.
“No no c’mon I was joking. Wait. Talk to me”
“Look, Tony,” Steve began, his voice steady. “There’s a lot I don’t understand. A lot that happened in Siberia that I wasn’t a part of.”
“Okay, Rogers. Shoot. What’s bothering you?” he asked, genuinely interested now.
Steve hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “They wrote to each other when they were captive there. They… they shared a connection, something deep and… intimate. I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Tony studied Steve for a silent moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re feeling left out,” he finally said. “You’re scared because you don’t know the full extent of their relationship. But the question is, are you afraid because it could jeopardize you relationship with Iris, or with Bucky?”
Steve winced at Tony’s blunt assessment “I will always but Buck first, always”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Steve replied without hesitation, his gaze steady. “He’s my brother, that’s never going to change. I’m just trying to understand the relationship he and Iris had, and how to move aroun it.”
Tony was silent for a moment, digesting Steve’s words “Look, Steve,” he began, “I can’t tell you what happened between them in Siberia. I wasn’t there. You weren’t there. The only people who can give you the answers you’re looking for are Bucky and Iris.”
“But they’re not talking,” Steve protested, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice “And I can’t just demand answers from them. They’ve been through hell.”
“Then give them time,” Tony advised. “They’re both dealing with a lot right now. They need to heal, to process everything that’s happened. And when they’re ready, they’ll talk.”
Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Tony was right, but the waiting was eating at him. “And what if they never talk? What if they never open up about what happened?”
“Then you respect their decision,” Tony said firmly. “You said it yourself, Steve. Bucky’s your brother. And Iris… well, I don’t know what she is to you, but I can tell you care about her. And if you care about them, then you have to respect their boundaries. You have to trust them to handle their own issues in their own way.”
Steve was silent for a long moment, wrestling with Tony’s words. He didn’t want to push Bucky or Iris. He didn’t want to pry into their past. But he also didn’t want to be kept in the dark, to be left feeling like an outsider in his own team. And he needed to understand, if something was still there.
“What if… what if they didn’t let everything in the past?” his voice broken by pain
Tony glanced at Steve, a brow raised “Steve, you can’t control their feelings, no more than you can control your own.”
“I’m in love with her Tony”
Tony paused for a moment, a shock visible in his eyes before a soft smirk appeared on his face. “Well, that’s not really a plot twist,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, yet his eyes held a certain understanding.
“But it does complicate things,” Steve continued, his voice laced with a hint of sorrow. “I don’t know what to do, Tony. I don’t know how to navigate this without hurting them…or myself.”
Tony remained silent for a while, studying Steve “The truth is, there’s no easy way out of this.”
With that, Tony turned back to his work as Steve stood still for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Then, without a word, he turned and left the lab.
In his bathroom Bucky stood in front of the fogged mirror from the hot shower, his reflection distorted and hazy. He reached out and wiped the mirror clean, revealing his bare torso marred with scars and burns.
His gaze dropped to the metal arm that replaced the one he lost. It was a symbol of his servitude under Hydra, a constant reminder of the man he was forced to become. But now, it was also a reminder of his fight for freedom, his struggle to reclaim his identity.
Images from the past, his life with Hydra, flooded his mind. It was a constant battle to separate the fragments of his past from the reality of his present. But amidst this chaos, there was two constants, two beacon of light that kept him grounded: Steve and Iris.
She had been there for him, through his darkest days, her unwavering faith in him a lifeline he clung to. She saw him for who he was, not for the monster Hydra tried to turn him into.
His fingers traced the dog tags and the ring hanging around his neck, the cool metal a stark contrast against his warm skin. He remembered how Iris had slipped it over his head back in the warehouse, her touch gentle, her promise sincere. She was not going to leave him, not this time, that’s what she said. And that thought gave him a strange sense of comfort.
But as comforting as that thought was, it also stirred a sense of fear within him. He feared that his past would come back to haunt them, that he might hurt her, that he might lose her. Again. He feared the man he once was, and the man he could potentially become if his mind betrayed him again.
He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting his reflection in the mirror.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He turned his head towards the sound, the knock was hesitant, almost as if the person on the other side was debating whether to proceed or not.
“Who is it?” Bucky called, his voice steady.
“It’s Iris,” came the muffled reply from the other side of the door.
Iris stood in the hallway, her arms folded across her chest and a faint blush on her cheeks as her gaze briefly flickered to his bare chest before quickly looking away.
“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky.
“I’m… I’m okay, Iris. You?” Bucky replied, both standing on the door.
“Yeah I’m good”
A brief silence fell between them, the air filled with a tension that neither of them addressed. Iris shifted on her feet, her gaze dropping to the floor before she finally broke the silence.
“Tony ordered pizza for everyone. I thought you might want to join us,”
Bucky’s heart clenched at her words. She was reaching out, trying to pull him back into the fold, back into the semblance of a family they were all desperately trying to maintain.
“Sure, Iris. I think I’ll join you guys,” Bucky finally replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Iris’ gaze unintentionally shifted to his bare torso, lingering over the faintly visible scars that marred his well-defined six-pack. Each mark was a brutal reminder of the atrocities Bucky had endured, a lot of them inflicted under her unwilling hand. Her heart clenched uncomfortably in her chest, a painful spasm of regret and guilt that took her breath away.
Each scar told a story, each burn mark painted a vivid picture of a dark past that seemed to relentlessly cling onto them. She remembered the dreadful days with a clarity that made her stomach churn. The searing heat of the iron rod, its red-hot surface glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights of the Hydra facility. The acrid smell of burning flesh, a scent so revolting and distinct that it seemed to have permanently lodged itself in the back of her throat. And then there was the sound of Bucky’s stifled grunts of pain, and the gu wrenching screams. A haunting melody of pain that played on a continuous loop in the darkest corners of her mind for years.
Irony is, she wished she could erase those memories, wished she could wipe the slate clean and start afresh. But those scars were a part of them now.
As she stood there, lost in her own mind, she realized that Bucky was watching her. His ice blue fixed on her. He knew what she was thinking, he was probably thinking the same. But there was something else in his gaze too, something that looked a lot like forgiveness.
“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. Even if you were conscious, you were forced to do it. But we’re not those people anymore.”
Bucky stepped aside, allowing Iris to enter his room. As she walked past him, she couldn’t help but reach out, her fingers lightly tracing one of the burn scars on his abdomen.
The touch was unexpected, and he tensed under her fingers, his breath hitching in his throat. For a moment, they just stood there, her fingers on his scar, their gazes locked. Then, she pulled away, a soft “sorry” escaping her lips as she moved to the window, her back to him.
The room was filled with an awkward silence, one that was broken when Iris finally turned to face him.
“I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to hurt you James”
He swallowed hard, nodding his head in understanding “I know, Iris,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “I know you didn’t. And neither did I”
She gave him a small, sad smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears “I’m not just talking about Hydra” her words hungh in the air for a litlle bit “It was easier for me to hate you. But it wasn’t fair, I’m sorry”
Bucky looked at her, his eyes reflecting the pain of a century “I know,” he said quietly, “And I’m sorry too, for everything.”
The air between them was thick with tension, the silence that hung in the room was almost suffocating. It was the kind of silence that was filled with unvoiced confessions and unresolved feelings.
Iris was the first to break the silence, her voiceshaky as she looked away from him, “I… I should go help Steve. He’s preparing for movie night after the pizza.”
Bucky’s heart clenched at the mention of Steve’s name, a wave of bitterness washing over him. The question slipped out before he could stop himself, his tone laced with a hint of resentment, “So, things are serious now?”
Taken aback by his question, Iris’ eyes met his. For a moment, she seemed lost for words, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to formulate a response. Finally, she swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze as she offered a soft nod in confirmation.
“So you plan on staying? No more run?” He didn’t know why he was asking, why he needed to know. But the words slipped out, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her response.
Iris hesitated, her gaze flickering up to meet his”Yes,” she whispered. “I do. No more run”
“Be downstair in an hour” With that the door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.
As he stood there in the silence, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in, he realized that things between them had changed.
The room seemed to close in on him.
Iris was with Steve, his best friend, and she planned on staying.