Winter Soldier
Perhaps stumbling towards the garage at 2:47 in the morning, after being torn out of his first good nights sleep in weeks is divine retribution for how much Tony has been neglecting his work in favour of spending time with James. On the other hand, given that he’s heading towards James at the moment, maybe his new diversion of attention hasn’t been noticed by the karma keepers yet.
“Stupid James,” Tony mumbles as he steps into the elevator, punching the button for the second floor needlessly, given that Friday already knows where he’s going.
Stupid, foolish James, making Tony’s heart race with worry.
“Stupid super soldiers.”
“I asked for his help,” Friday offers in James’ defence, and Tony sighs.
“I know, baby.” He doesn’t waste time chiding her for not waking him up first, there will be time for that later when he’s had one or three coffees and is able to think straight. “I just wish he had waited. Can you tell me how he’s doing?”
Likely just a technical failure, Friday had said. She had asked James to check it out because it wasn’t anything bad. But Tony’s overactive mind doesn’t need any prompting to draw up worst case scenarios, and being half asleep still only means that he has no power to direct his anxiety spirals back onto the tracks of reality.
“Still blind, boss. Sorry.”
Damnit. Please let it be just a glitch, please. A bug, a late night mistake he’s missed in a haze of sleep deprivation. Nothing serious. Nothing that can harm James.
Tony scowls at himself, trying to make a valiant but useless effort to jank his thoughts back on track. Damn his brain and it’s stupid caffeine addiction. And damn his body too for being so slow. Tony has half a mind to call a suit, fly to the garage, that’d be faster than heaving through the halls of the compound with an aching back and shitty lungs. He’s entirely too old and too tired for this.
“You’re about to enter the blind spot,” Friday informs him, and Tony stops in front of a door with a deactivated scanner panel. His mind somewhat focuses.
“Alright, babygirl. Monitor me best as you can. If you haven’t heard from me in thirty minutes, call the cavalry.”
“Yes, boss.”
Tony doesn’t have to go too far before he finds the problem at the bottom of the stairs to the garage. It’s nice, the problem is already tied up against one of the handrails of the staircase.
“Huh,” he notes. There is no blood, nothing seems broken, there aren’t even any bruises, although those might settle in later. Outwardly, the Black Widow seems fine. But given the chances that she’s decided to take a nap in the middle of his compound tied up with cable ties voluntarily, Tony whirls around.
“She’s not dead.”
Tony jumps, his gauntlets forming around his hands without a second thought. James is almost completely hidden behind one of the supporting beams of the garage, leaning against the concrete and watching him.
“Jesus, James, you can’t scare a mand like that, my heart! And, uh, I didn’t think she was. Are you okay?”
“Bruises forming, electrical burns and two cuts that need patching up. Still operational.”
Looking again, Tony realises with a sinking feeling in his gut that this isn’t James he’s looking at. At least not entirely. Looking back at him with an even focused gaze is the Winter Soldier. Only the glint of metal from the stump of his arm gives him away as he slinks back into the shadows of the garage. And even that, Tony suspects, he is doing on purpose, allowing Tony to see him.
Fuck .
A shiver runs down Tony’s back, and some lizard part of his brain informs him that the Winter Soldier has a knife. He’s seen James fidget with it, not thinking anything of it at the time. He’d thought with the triggers removed this wasn't something he’d have to worry about. Hadn’t considered that this was a state James could access by himself. Flee to by himself.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Or her.” Fuck, even his voice is different, quiet and rough, sending a pleasant heat pooling in Tony’s stomach. No, Tony, bad!
“Uh, sure, yeah, thanks. Can you tell me what we’re dealing with here?”
James blinks, reconsidering Tony for a moment.
“A Black Widow broke in, disabled Friday. She is here for me. Asked me to leave, go back with her. I didn’t want to. She’s injured, but not dead,” he explains the obvious. And sure, most of it is (she’s here for James, no, they can’t take him, not yet.) (He doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay here. And what the fuck does that say about Tony that he’s getting butterflies because the Winter Soldier wants to stay here, because James feels safe in his workshop?) but that’s not the question Tony was asking. He sighs.
“Alright, sure, we can deal with that later. Do you think she’s alone?”
“She’s not,” a voice comes from between the parked SUVs and vans. “Bucky, we’ve come to get you out of here.”
Three things happen almost at once. Steve steps out into the garage, most of his handsome features covered by an unkempt beard, the rest of him wearing the standard Avengers stealth getup of hoody and jeans. The Winter Soldier flinches back further into the shadows, blanke fear in his blue eyes. And by the staircase, Natasha begins to stir.
Tony wishes for some coffee and his suit at the same time.
He steps in front of James, something striking him as deeply comical about his squishy human self stepping up to protect the Winter Soldier, but he’s too tried and hopped up on adrenaline to find the pointe. Steve’s gaze falls on him then, and Tony files the glee and relief he feels at being able to divert Steve’s attention away from James for later.
“You can’t keep him prisoner here, Tony,” Steve says in a warning tone, and Tony keeps his face carefully blank. Somehow with him, Steve always assumes the worst. This man who sees the best in people, who trusts Sam Wilson after one chat and becomes a mentor to Maximoff after she tore all of them to shreds, can only ever see Tony for his mistakes. Tony tells himself he doesn’t care anymore, that he’s over that.
He used to be a better liar.
“Doing no such thing, Cap. Barnes came looking for sanctuary, and we granted it.”
Dramatic turn of phrase, but Tony blames Vision, who’s been insisting on doing a Disney binge recently.
Steve sputters. “Sanctuary? With the man that kidnapped him, and tried to kill him?” He scoffs and turns to James. “Bucky, come on, you don’t have to listen to Tony’s lies.”
But James is frozen into the shadows, eyes wide and chest heaving at a pace that sends Tony’s heart into his stomach. Fuck.
“James?”
James flinches, but doesn’t acknowledge him.
“A panic attack. Interesting,” Natascha notes smoothly, and Tony winces. He’d almost forgotten about her, sitting quietly tied to the stairs. And he knows that’s exactly what she wanted, watching quietly from the sidelines.
Steve whirls around to Natasha, then fixes his furious gaze on Tony. “A panic attack? Tony, what have you been doing to him? Wanda said we had to get him back, but I didn’t actually think–”
Hold up.
“Maximoff? What did she tell you?”
“And why do you care?” Natasha asks, with the lethal casual curiosity of the Black Widow. She might as well have been asking him about the weather. Tony clamps his jaw shut, and Natasha grins.
“Famous Tony Stark, at whits end? What, too early for witty remarks?”
Steve has been ignoring their exchange in favour of circling around Tony to get closer to James. James who looks like he’s about to collapse from hyperventilation. Yeah, definitely not normal panic attacks, Maximoffs magic has to be at play here too.
“What did Wanda tell you?” Tony tries again, this time directed at Steve, trying to put as much threat into his voice as he can muster at 3:00 in his pyjamas. He knows he’s only fanning Natasha’s curiosity, but if they know anything more than they’re telling, he needs to know what it is. If it can help James.
“He’s not breathing, Tony, he’s shaking. What are those clothes, and his arms, what did you do to him?” Steve steps closer to James again. “I swear to God, if you hurt him Tony, I will–”
Tony doesn’t need to know how the sentence ends. He understands the sentiment just find. Whatever friendship or comradery they may have had, it means nothing in the face of getting back his Bucky.
Tony glances back at James behind him, and is both surprised and relieved to see James watching Steve almost lucidly. After all, anything gets easier with practice, maybe even panic attacks. Maybe James just needs some more time and then he will be able to choose himself whether he wants to go with Steve or not.
Tony doesn’t think it through. He steps between Steve and James.
“Steve, please, just give him–”
“You’re not hurting him again!”
Steve reaches for him. For one horrifying second Tony wonders if Steve remembers his strength. If he would even bother to restrain himself if he did. There is anger on his face, maybe even hate. None of the compassion Tony originally used to see there so frustratingly often. No, no weakness, not when it comes to his Bucky.
Tony braces himself for pain, for shattered bones, gets ready to cry out to Friday, knowing nobody else can get here fast enough.
And then there is a wall of muscle before him, Steve’s reaching hand caught by the wrist.
“Bucky?”
A shudder goes through James’ form, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shrink back. His hand doesn’t shake as he twists Steve’s wrist, forcing Captain America to jump back with one cruel move. Tony stares in awe, and even Natasha has a smug grin on her face, satisfied to see that she isn’t the only one not able to stand up to the Winter Soldier.
Steve, it seems, has not yet noticed the change in his friend.
“Bucky, what is this, what are you–”
And then tony gets to watch the penny drop.
“What… But Wanda said the triggers were gone. How is this possible?”
Well, one penny at least.
“Steve,” Natasha starts, but Steve isn’t listening.
“Bucky! I know you’re in there, please. Just come with me and–”
Steve puts his hand on James’ shoulder, one thumb landing intimately on his pulsepoint. And for a moment, James freezes, a slip of what Tony can now recognise as a brutal control of his panic.
“Please,” Steve begs, stepping closer. “It’s me.”
Natasha sees the mistake only a second before Tony does.
“Steve! Get back, Steve, you–”
The set of James’ eyes is the only warning Steve gets, and he doesn’t see it despite staring at James as if he wants to drown in him. And then the next moment he isn’t, instead flying across the the garage with a force that all but totals the van that catches him.
Natasha is up on her feet in a heartbeat, the cable ties empty by the staircase. The Winter Soldier shifts to face her, and Natasha steels herself against the blizzard like attention of the assassin before her.
Quickly, before either of them can do something stupid or Steve can recover, Tony steps between them, one hand splayed out against James without touching him. He fixes his gaze on Natasha.
“Get Steve out of here the way you got in, and I won’t tell the pardon board about this little fieldtrip.” His voice is clear and flat, Natasha understands a threat when she hears one without all the song and dance.
“What about Barnes?”
Tony keeps his face empty, trying to keep his attention on all three of them at once. “I’ve got it handled.”
Natascha glances back at James. “He doesn’t look so handled.”
Tony wonders if it’s a combination of their personalities that makes Natascha so good at riling him up, or if she can do that with anyone. He makes sure not to clench his jaw, to not let his frustration show, although she can see it anyway of course.
“He came to me for help, I am helping him.”
“Hard to believe when you kidnapped him and then hid him from Steve for two months.”
Tony can feel the caffeine headache setting in. Fuck, it’s not even setting in, it’s making itself at home, finding the cushiest chair in his brain and snuggling up.
“I did not,” he argues back, which is an all around weak argument. But before he can think of something better, a voice comes from behind him.
“Leave, Natalia.”
James’ voice is rough and quiet, sending a shiver down Tony’s spine. A hand wraps around Tony’s arm, warm and strong and pulling him back out of the garage, through the hallway and further until there are at least three sets of doors between them. Until they are at the door that marks the border of Friday’s marred attention.
“Boss?”
James lets go of him and slams back against the wall opposite to him, digging his fingers painfully into his leg in a harsh contrast to the gentle hold with which he’d steered Tony. Tony answers without having to think about it, without taking his eyes off James.
“We’re both okay. Okay enough,” he corrects. “Call Rhodey and Vision; the captain and Black Widow are loose in my garage, and I don’t trust them to know what’s good for them and leave.”
He considers asking Friday to send a suit with a medkit, remembering James’ report from earlier, that he’s hurt. But hurt is… well, not an understatement, but not entirely correct. Tony spots the cuts James had mentioned earlier, one cutting from his left shoulder to his chest, one running over his thigh. And yet, despite the blood staining the black shirt James is wearing an even deeper glistening black, the cuts are the least of Tony’s concerns.
James is shaking, blood running over his hand where he is squeezing his legs. His eyes are glazed with panic or exhaustion, panting, pressing himself against the wall.
“James?”
James shrinks away from him, curling up against the wall.
“Don’t touch me.”
Tony hadn’t even considered it, he does have that much common sense, but the bitten off desperation in James’ voice breaks his heart all over again.
“I won’t, I’ll stay right here, James.” And then, after a moments consideration: “Do you want help, or should I give you some space?”
Because he really can’t tell anymore. There is a long horrible silence where Tony is left considering whether this warrants crossing boundaries. Which ones.
But then: “Tony?”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I… I can’t feel– my body is gone.”
Tony’s mind races, research and books and years of experience with his own panic attacks crashing through his mind. He doesn’t even know if any of this applies to James, for this Maximoff induced clash between panic and the Winter Soldier.
“If I may, Boss?” Friday chimes in quietly.
“What is it, baby girl?”
“Analysis suggests that the Winter Soldier has an easier time controlling his emotions. This may be beneficial until Mr. Barnes is in a location that is more suited.”
More suited to panic attacks and medical care than a damn hallway leading to a few offices. Tony knows she means the med bay, or James’ room. But all Tony thinks of is the workshop.
He silently sends a prayer of thanks to his AI, something he’ll have to put into actual words later, before turning back to the problem at hand. Hurt him or hurt me?
“Soldier, status report,” Tony commands with as much authority he can muster, which isn’t a lot in the face of a distressed James Barnes. James responds immediately, his breath evening out, his blue eyes opening to stare holes into the wall opposite them.
“Injured? Uhm…” James winces, and Tony wants to interrupt him, wants to lean forward and assure him that everything is alright. But he stays where he is. “Attention compromised,” James finally gets out.
“Thank you,” Tony rushes in, “well done.” God, he is horrible at this.
Friday makes a little chiming sound that is her equivalent of clearing her throat, and Tony wonders if he already has implanted a chip of her in his brain, because he knows exactly what she is asking.
“Take it away, baby. Just– be careful, alright?”
A little confirmation chime before she speaks again, her voice now hard with an authority she only takes with Tony if she is trying to get him out of his workshop after a few days.
“Assets required for debrief and maintenance, report to the nearest maintenance station, north wing, ground floor. Await orders there.”
Tony keeps his face blank, or at least tries to. But then James looks at him, clearly not all soldier, clearly uncertain.
“Go, listen to the boss lady. I’ll be right behind you, promise.”
He watches as James gets up, looking for any further signs of pain. And if in the meantime he also gets to watch those powerful legs stalk away from his, well, then he can’t be blamed for looking. Bad time to think with your dick, Tony.
But there is nothing, not a single flinch, and Tony can’t decide whether he should be relieved or all the more concerned, given that he knows James is wounded. Given the smears of blood on the floor where James sat.
“Tony? Tony, are you okay?”
Rhodey is hurrying down the hall towards him, sparing only a glance for the retreating James before taking in the scene, the blood, Tony sitting on the floor.
“Peachy, Papa Bear, peachy. The blood is James’, I’m fine. Where’s Vision?”
Rhodey reaches down a hand and his braces lock up perfectly, calculating Tony’s weight as he pulls him up and balancing against it.
“He’s down in the garage, Friday said something about a security breach?”
Tony breathes a sigh of relief.
“Yeah. Black Widow did something to amputee Friday out of the east wing here, then she and the Capsicle broke in, looking for James.”
“Great,” Rhodey sighs with an even voice that means that he is livid. “How is he?”
“Steve?”
Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Barnes. Christ, Tony, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
Tony can’t help but grin at that. “Aw, see, you do care! And in my defence, I’m doing all this on four hour of sleep and zero coffee.” But the smile fades quickly when he looks down at the smear of blood on the floor. “James and Natasha fought. He’s hurt and just… I don’t know, something is wrong. Whatever the Witch did to him, Steve triggers it. He went full Winter Soldier down there.”
“What did he do? Did he hurt you?”
But Tony waves Rhodey’s concerns off. “No, nothing like that. It looked like a defence mechanism, for himself more than anything.”
And before Rhodey can argue further, Vision’s head pops out of the wall, startling both of them.
“No signs of life other than the expected, Mr. Stark. Colonel, I regret to inform that you have been summoned here for nothing, there is nobody to arrest.”
Rhodey nods and Tony can tell from the way his nose flares that he is still furious.
“Alright, Vision, you and I will set up a security perimeter until Friday is back up. Tony, check in with Barnes and get Friday back into the east wing. You have full permission to wake up whoever to take over Barnes if he gives you trouble. Friday is your first priority.”
“Didn’t need your permission to be a terror, but you’re sweet for giving it.” Tony winks and begins moving towards his workshop. Rhodey rolls his eyes at him, but lets him go.
“Friday?” he asks once he’s in the elevator to the ground floor.
“With you, boss.”
“Glad to hear it. Where is James right now?”
“He has left through the Workshop Escape Hatch and is headed towards the compound perimeter?”
“What?!” Suddenly Tony regrets taking the elevator, unable to give in to the impulse to start running immediately. “Fuck. Okay, send me Mark 106 and send me his location on the heads up.”
“Done.”
Tony breaks out of the elevator into a jog. The suit meets him halfway to the door, assembling itself around him with beautiful precision on the way out. Taking off is as easy as thinking about it, Friday and muscle memory doing the rest. Which is great, because right now he doesn’t have much room to think of flying.
He can only imagine why James might be fleeing right now. Stupid of him, stupid stupid stupid, to send him into the workshop while he was still tethering on the edges of Winter Soldier conditioning, maybe even Winter Soldier memories.
Sure, James had said the workshop made him feel safe, but it was stupid to assume that would remain true in such a loaded moment. On top of that, James is hurt, distressed and hurt, and Tony had sent him off all on his own after he had just been forced to hurt his closest friend, all to protect Tony.
“Up ahead, heat signature marked.”
Tony instinctively shifts back to break, glad for the overlay on the HUD. Without it, he’d never have spotted James shifting through the garden towards the fence. Tony puts in the tactical command to open the suit and stumbles onto the path behind James, having to jog to close the last few metres between them.
“James, wait!”
Against all expectation, James stops, his shoulders stinking in something that looks like resignation. Confused, out of breath and still not having had any coffee, Tony scrambles through the trees James is stanging in and comes to a halt. Bracing his hands on his knees, Tony forces his damned lungs to take a few deep breaths that do nothing for the headache, or his nerves.
Tony knows he is frustrating to be around, hell, the old avengers are the perfect evidence, but still. It stings to see James seize the first opportunity to leave unnoticed. But those are stupid, selfish thoughts, and Tony squashes them down where they belong.
“Hey,” he starts instead once he has finally somewhat caught his breath. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” James whispers, his eyes firmly rooted on the floor between them, unable to look at Tony.
“Not the question I asked,” Tony says kindly, but still James flinches.
“Fuck, sorry. No. Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ll draw a trail up to Canada, they won’t bother you again.”
Tony blinks, feeling his confusion begin to show on his face. “Canada?”
“I’ll disappear,” James bites out, and Tony’s mind races, trying to figure out what he missed.
“Okay. Yeah, uh, whatever you need.” He doesn’t mean it as he says it - please don’t go, I don’t want you to go already. I know it’s only ever a matter of time, but this is so fast. “Just… will you let me look at those cuts first? You said you were hurt. Me, or someone else, let me patch you up before you go? And you can take some supplies with you, for the road.”
James shakes his head, his hand running roughly over his jeans, careless of the cut there, of his blood on his hand. He hesitates for a moment, his brows pinched in frustration. “No, I– I’ll get out of your hair. I shouldn’t be here anymore.”
“But I like you in my hair,” Tony blurts out before he can think about it, stuttering to a horrifying embarrassing halt once his brain catches up with his mouth. “What I meant to say it, you shouldn’t be going on the run wounded. That could get infected and then you’ll be in a world of trouble we can avoid right now.”
“I’m operational,” James tries to argue, his voice cold in a way belied by the nervous set of his eyes.
“You’re hurt.”
“It won’t stop me.”
Tony sighs. “I know. I’ve seen how much you can take.” Images of Hyrda files flitter through his mind, the way James flinched when Tony had taken hold of his shoulder in a scuffle that seems like lifetimes ago. Take me out. Please. “Just— please? As a favour to me.”
James’ face goes through a complicated array of emotions.
“You’re saying I owe you.”
“What? No, this isn’t– Alright. Sure, fine. Yeah, you owe me. Let me patch you up and we’re square.”
James looks at him, and Tony once again realises just how stupid his little affections and daydreams have been. He feels small and scrawny under James’ gaze, painfully aware of the mess that is his hair, his sleep shirt and jogging pants. James has survived on having no attachments so far, and given the eternal loyalty and love of Steve Rogers, Captain America, his one tether to a painless carefree past, what the hell does Tony have to offer in the face of that.
“Can I ask you a question?”
With almost practised ease Tony swallows down his conflicting feelings and smiles.
“Always, Snowflake.”
“Why?”
Tony tries to backtrack through the conversation they’ve just had, a process made so much harder by knowing James is still bleeding, he still hasn’t had a cup of coffee, and the chill of the night air finally overcoming the adrenaline.
“Because you’re hurt?”
“No, why do you care?”
Tony swallows, trying to swallows down the pathetic truth so it won’t show when he speaks. Because I like you.
“You deserve not to be in pain, James. And I have the ability to help, so I should. I want to.” There, not a lie. But so tantalisingly close to the truth.
“But– you just saw–” James takes a deep fortifying breath, his hand stilling at his side. “You saw what I can do. What I am, still am. Fuck, I destroyed one of your cars, I hurt Steve, I just– I let myself become a fucking weapon, the monster that Hydra made me, just because I was scared.”
Tony’s heart sinks. Is this what this is about? James thinks he is scared?
“That’s unfair, James, that wasn’t just scared.”
But James shakes his head, eyes dark with frustration. “Doesn’t matter, okay? I was trying to keep it together, and I couldn’t. And now you knows, and I didn’t want to wait until you told me get lost.”
“What? Know what, James, what are you talking about?”
“The Soldier!” James is breathing heavily, his eyes flitting around the dark trees before flinching away from Tony. “It didn’t go away with the triggers. I’m trying to be better, I’m trying to be good, but I still think like that. I still know every weapon and exit of every room I enter, I still steal people’s habits and voices to cover that I never had any of my own. I’m still an asset.”
James lets out a deep rushing breath, and before Tony can reassemble his heart and his understanding of the man before him into something coherent, James continues.
“And I get it, okay. I’m not something you’d want around your team, your family. Around children. I–” He screws his eyes shut tightly, looking in pain, and Tony knows it’s not the cuts and burns and bruises that are doing this. “I just didn’t want to hear you say it.”
“Well, you won’t.” The resolution comes as easy as breathing, fortifying Tony’s voice against the heartbreak he’s currently riding out. James’ eyes fly open, looking at Tony with incredulous hope.
“Sure, you were a little scary today, but most of us get scarey when we really try. You know what I saw tonight?”
The hope flickers and fades, and Tony bulldozes on over it before it can truly shatter into rejection.
“You protected me. You were having a truly horrific panic attack, you were in your ever rights to just fucking book it, but you stayed and you protected me anyway.”
James stares at him, stunned. “Steve was going to hurt you.”
Tony shrugs. “Maybe, I don’t know. But I do know that you’re incredible and I just want to see you in my workshop, patched up and not hurting.” Tony’s voice fades, the confidence running out quick in the face of James’ wide eyes. But hey, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? “I don’t want you to leave.”
The courage runs out then together with the adrenaline, and Tony can feel himself turning red under James’ scrutinising gaze.
“You want me around?” James asks, still sounding unsure, and Tony throws his hands up.
“James, you’re killing me. Please… just come inside. I won’t stop you if you want to leave, but– don’t leave when you’re hurt.”