INTERLUDE [1]:

B u c k y

a.k.a: Chapter 6, an interlude of Bucky

Not for the first time did Bucky Barnes wish he had stayed in Wakanda with his goats and comfortable clothes. Actually, scratch that, he wished he’d stayed in 1945 so that he would, most likely, be dead right now. Or, perhaps, he wished he’d died falling off the train like any normal person would have (if they hadn’t previously – unknowingly, non-consenting – been injected by some form of super serum that had definitely not been approved by any government). He had never actually wanted to return; it was only because Steve had wanted (needed) to, that Bucky had agreed. Steve had given up a lot for him, so it was time to give back in one of the only ways he knew how.

It had not been easy. The temptation of chucking himself out the window was high up the scale as soon as they had gone up the elevator. It had only eased when Sam had stormed in with his usual demeanour and eased Bucky’s tension. As much as he riled it, Sam was very good at making Bucky feel better just by relaxing into an easy titter.

He would’ve been good in the war, Sam. If removed to a 1940s setting – because modern-day Sam would combust without technology – he would have been a storm to deal with if he’d joined them in the Howling Commandos.

Bucky didn’t like to think of the Howling Commandos too much. It was a such a defining moment of his life; he finally felt like he was doing something with a team. With his friends. Steve had been by his side, taking the lead as he always wanted. They’d defeated all, until he’d fallen off the goddamn train. Steve had re-found his team with the Avengers, but Bucky had turned up too late (and a bit brainwashed).

He'd asked Steve about his team when they’d been in Wakanda, when his memories were all sorted. Apparently, they’d all survived the war, with various family members scattered across the world. His old life was such a stark contrast to what he had to live with now.

On the topic of stark: avoiding Tony Stark should have been easy. He’d had the plan all along to avoid the man at all costs. He’d kept to his room during the day, and his insomnia allowed him into the gym at night. Yet, somehow, Bucky still was in Stark’s bad books (minus the whole ‘I killed your parents’ situation, that warranted certified membership within the bad books). It had been going okay for a while, Stark had actually directed conversation his way; he had even seemed amused at one point. But Bucky had scared him in the dark, had brought up the fact he was an assassin as a joke, and had offered to pick up a kid that Tony was trying to protect. He had tried to keep the banter with Sam in front of Stark only so he would gather that – as much as Bucky himself did not believe – he was just human. That hadn’t worked either; in fact, it had somehow made Sam hate Stark even more through an argument that escalated before Bucky had even figured out why they had been arguing.

Now, Bucky stuck to the shadows of the Quinjet, wishing he had not spoken up and put his foot into something he hadn’t wanted to cause. Of course Stark had not wanted Bucky near Spider-Man; why would he? Bucky was a danger, and someone Stark obviously did not want nearby. He had been surprised when James Rhodes had approached him and smiled when he had first arrived. Surely, Rhodes knew what he had done? That he had killed his best friend’s parents?

It hadn’t seemed to matter, for Rhodey had continued to talk to Bucky even when Stark refused. He had no reason to; he had a bond with Sam for reasons of “I nearly died because you ducked but fair enough”, and a grudging respect for Steve for just being Captain America (good-natured scoffing included). With Bucky, why did he bother? What was the point – he was pretty much the reason Rhodey had no working legs anymore. If Bucky wasn’t around, then Steve would have had no incentive not to sign the Accords, and the entire airport wouldn’t have happened.

Yet here he was, with Rhodey still speaking to him, Stark occasionally giving him the time of day, and Romanov and Barton occasionally joining him in the gym to spar.

Now, he was in the Quinjet knowing full well he wasn’t supposed to be there – not that it was clear, considering the ‘higher authority figures’ were never specifically stated. Did Steve have the authority? Stark? It wasn’t as though he had had the time to state he had to stay behind, and besides, the retribution was six months in the Raft, and Bucky thought he deserved that anyway. If he helped get Spider-Man out of a shitty situation, what was six months in jail when he’s suffered seventy years being locked away?

Bucky shuffled over to stand next to Sam, who was prepping his wings. Sam said nothing, but did give Bucky a nod, which he responded in kind with.

“Stick to floor on the left,” Sam muttered. “At least then you’ll be away from Parker.” He pulled at a fastening with a lot more irritation than necessary. Bucky didn’t know how to feel that Sam was angry for him (and not at him). “And Stark,” he added. “I get the joys of being in the air with him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bucky.

“What for? Offering to help?”

Bucky shrugged slightly, and the two went back to a steady silence. The Quinjet shook slightly as Romanov got it in a hovering position.

“Go,” said Romanov. She and Barton were parking one building over now that Rhodey could fly back himself with Peter. Barton would shoot from the rooftop; Romanov would somehow zip her way over (Bucky knew better than to ask questions on Romanov). Bucky was stationed on the ground with Steve and Lang whilst Sam and Stark would take to the air. Rhodey’s face looked determined as the back opened to the confrontation below them.

It was carnage, really, as Bucky jumped off the plane and landed, hard, on the raised part of the rooftop. Spider-Man was somehow keeping his own; his leg was bleeding, and it seemed his webs had run out or running low – not surprising, considering the coating of webs covering the roof. He was not pulling his punches, Bucky could observe, as waves of troops headed in his direction. Some seemed to be knocked out, but others were lying in gruesome positions in puddles of dark blood. It wasn’t looking good.

The soldiers fighting Spider-Man were slightly surprised at the Avengers’ entrance. There was a brief lull as everyone touched ground or took flight, which Bucky used to his advantage by dropping down and punching two soldiers out cold in front of him. He lost sight of Spider-Man, but he was a bit preoccupied when the lull disappeared as Stark shot three beams into the crowd to disperse them. A soldier fell with each blast. Bucky retrieved his gun, whipping it across one soldier’s face as he did so, and shot at two soldiers aiming for Spider-Man.

Two red dots aimed at the floor.

“Snipers,” Bucky shouted. There was a cacophony of swearing down the comms as their fight was redirected. He wished he had his rifle, and that he’d been deposited like Barton on a different roof. He’d be able to put his good sharpshooting abilities on show, then.

“I can’t go,” Sam’s shout came through. Looking around, Bucky saw he had been waylaid by at least ten soldiers yanking him out the air. Two of them were wearing what seemed to be jetpacks. Behind him, three soldiers fell by an unseen force as Ant-Man, tiny, shot between them. “I’m nearly out of the air! They’ve got fucking jetpacks!”

Steve came colliding through, pushing his shield past people like a knife through butter. He reached Sam, bashed five people with his shield and helped Sam take back off. Sam, shaking out his wings, dodged as the jet-packed ones opened fire.

Bucky, who was engaged with seven, did not see whether Sam had dodged or not. He was also preoccupied by the fact that the snipers were now shooting at him.

“Shooting snipers!” he yelled down the comms.

“I’m still engaged!” Sam yelled back. “Stark!”

“No can do,” Stark’s voice was loud and stressed. “I’m pretty packed over here. What are these guys on?”

“Steroids?” suggested Romanov, who Bucky saw slinking over the entrance building and taking out a guard. “I can’t zip that far. Rhodey?”

“I’m trying to get to Peter!” said Rhodey. “I need back up!”

“This is going fucking well,” came Barton’s voice as an arrow pierced a masked man’s face. He fell to the floor in agony. “Also, there’s more men coming.”

“How?” moaned Stark. Bucky saw him shoot around above him. “Where are they coming from?”

“We need to get inside,” said Steve.

“We need to get to Peter!” shouted Rhodey.

Bucky, shooting at one soldier, turned his attention to the right-hand side of the rooftop. He could barely see – Rhodey’s blasts were lighting up the complete mass of people surrounding Spider-Man. To be honest, it actually seemed rather counter-productive. How any of them could actually get to Parker was beyond Bucky.

He decided that Stark could go fuck himself (for a little bit) and barged over toward Rhodey.

Good thing, too, as Rhodey was nearly overloaded with troops – who all seemed to have a weird super-human strength – and Bucky shot four before they could do much damage.

“They’re getting to the reactor!” panted Rhodey, blasting a soldier out the way. “It’ll make me useless!”

“Shit,” said Bucky. “Can you get to Parker?”

“No,” the other responded. “Bucky – if you get to him, get him to the Quinjet.”

“I said no to that!” barked Stark, having overheard.

“Get a grip, Tones!” snapped Rhodey. “I’m fucking overloaded!”

Bucky tried not to listen as he made his way through the masses, a lot of whom were turning to Bucky as he got further forward.

“Shit,” said Steve. “Someone’s got to get to those snipers, I’ve been had in the leg.”

“I’ve got one,” said Barton.

“I can get the others,” said Rhodey. “I’ve got to get off – Bucky, get to Peter!”

“On it,” said Bucky, hearing Rhodey blast off behind him, shaking off troops as he went. It didn’t take long for Rhodey to remove the red dots that were threatening the rooftop. By that time, Bucky had shot his way forward, swapping guns for a brief interlude and stabbing someone in the meantime, and finally – finally – saw a glimpse of Peter again.

He was staggering, weakly flipping out the last of his webs. It was lucky, in a way, that he was so surrounded. If not, the armed men could have easily shot him out in about three seconds. So, a mistake on their part made it easy for Bucky to vault himself forward, slamming his metal arm through three, and came to a stop next to Parker.

“Hey, Spider-Man,” said Bucky. “You want to come with me?”

“Sh-shng,” blubbered Spider-Man, his white eyes huge. He looked petrified. The suit, perfectly designed by Stark, seemed to hang off him slightly as he lurched around.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Bucky. He hoisted Spider-Man up with one arm – and by shit he was light – and continued to spray out bullets at the oncoming guards with the other. Like a carousel he turned until the majority had fallen, and Spider-Man was groaning in apparent complaint.

The rooftop was weirdly quiet as Bucky shot the remaining soldiers. There was still noise, but it was muffled, now, as though underwater.

“Bucky!” Rhodey touched down with a metal clank. He looked much better without men climbing all over him. “I’ll take Peter; the others have gotten inside. It looks like the huge man’s inside and already had a go at Peter before he came out here.”

Bucky handed the boy over to Rhodey, whose faceplate gave nothing away about the weight, before Bucky sprinted towards the door and Rhodey took off. Barton, too, had seemingly made his way inside; Bucky could hear his arrows exploding below him.

The floor shuddering, Bucky pushed his way downward until he found the fight.

It was a mess: Steve and Tony were facing off against the Huge Man, who seemed to have an inordinate amount of strength, even for someone so large. Romanov and Barton were dealing with the others. Sam was lying on the floor by a wall.

“Sam!” Bucky, heaving his way forward by punching a soldier through the stomach, hurried over to the fallen man.

Sam groaned, raising his head. “That – that big guy, man. He’s like the Hulk.”

“Are you okay?”

Sam batted his hand in an apparent response.

“Go fight him,” he said, slurring slightly at the end. “You’re … you’re strong.”

Suddenly, Romanov was next to him.

“I’ll take him,” she said. “He’s right; you can take him on better than Clint and I.”

Barton, who had also slipped over towards them whilst continually firing arrows, said: “Thank fuck for that, too. This guy is nuts.”

“Where’s Lang?”

“I’m fine!” came Lang’s voice through the comms. “I’m just – a little stuck.”

“Where?”

“Erm,” said Lang. “I – er – fell in his trousers, man.”

“Grow large!” came Steve’s voice from the middle of the floor. He was puffing slightly as he threw the shield at the huge man, which he dodged.

“I can’t grow large; it’ll destroy the building!”

“Not large, large,” Steve sounded exasperated. “Just normal size!”

“Oh, right,” said Lang.

There was a loud ripping noise as Lang emerged from his trousers. The Huge Man halted in his steps, staggering slightly. He yelped in surprised, whilst the rest of them were silent (apart from Barton, who cackled over the comms). Bucky marvelled in the fact that everyone had somewhat acclimatised to situations of peculiarity, which were a regular occurrence within their job field. Bucky felt only a slight stirring of surprised as Lang became his normal size. He took a few steps backwards before shooting forwards and becoming tiny again; he (from what Bucky could gather) hit the Huge Man with force before jumping back again and returning size. It was all very fast (and seemed rather complicated to remember when to hit the sizing button) but was a good call to make. The Huge Man staggered backwards; Steve took the opportunity to throw his shield at him. This time, it hit him in the chest.

Seeing his opportunity, Bucky slipped round the back of the man as he started to fall, wrapping his metal arm round his neck and squeezing.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the man hacked out a cough. “Aren’t you meant to be on house arrest?”

“Oh shit,” said Stark.

“It’s fine,” said Bucky gruffly, tightening his arm so the man choked. He was not to be distracted. “What’s six months?”

“The situation required all-hands-on-deck,” said Steve, sounding pained and worried. “Our authority is high enough for that.”

“Sure,” said Stark, not sounding very sure at all. Bucky would not be surprised if the man was his direct reason to his route into the Raft.

“So quick to defend your little spider that you forget the consequences,” grinned the Huge Man. “Too bad I already got to him.”

Stark jerked forwards, hand raised.

“You shut up.”

It was so easy, really, to wind up Tony Stark. The man was so pumped with adrenaline and anger that he never stopped to think about what his enemies were doing. For a certified genius, he sure was an idiot.

The Huge Man took their distraction to his full advantage.

When he realised no one was helping Bucky immediately, he used his brute force to flip Bucky over. Bucky’s arm locked behind him as he growled in pain. The Huge Man snarled as he dodged a beam of light from Stark’s suit.

Releasing Bucky, whose metal arm was feeling particularly weird as it stayed bent backwards, the man stepped back into a fighting stance.

“I’m bored now,” said Stark. “Rogers, care to finish this off-brand Hulk?”

“With pleasure,” said Steve. He fastened his shield to his arm.

“You’re in for it now, pant-less Pepsi man,” said Stark.

Steve ran forward in a show of true Captain style, which the man met by raising his fist and launching across the room. Steve caught the man’s fist with his own. They were locked in a power struggle as both grit their teeth and pushed forward.

“What have you taken?” Steve grunted, edging forward ever so slightly. The man grinned.

“Why should only you get to be strong?” he said and swung his other fist. Steve dropped his hand and dodged, punching him in the jaw as he did so. The Huge Man roared. “Surely we’d be of greater use if we were all strong. Perhaps then the aliens would do less damage.”

Steve didn’t answer; instead, he whacked his shield across the man’s face. It landed with a satisfying crack as the man finally staggered sideways, howling. Bucky managed to get his arm back the right way – though it still felt off – and leapt to help.

It was the four of them – Bucky, Steve, Stark and Lang – though Steve did the brunt of the work, that brought the man down. Whatever he had taken – and it must have been something, for Steve and Bucky were panting – did not last long. Though he was still strong, he was easy enough to bring down whilst all four worked on it. It was rather pitiful, really, as Stark ordered mechanical fasteners to attach themselves around the Huge Man, who sat in his underpants on the floor.

The usual quiet of the aftermath descended upon them, as all four got their breath back. The building was trashed; the floor had concaved, and wires were sparking on the walls from – presumably – a mixture of gunfire and Steve’s shield.

“Police on their way,” came Romanov’s voice over the comms, using her uncanny ability to know precisely when to butt in. “Estimated arrival: five minutes.”

“Any face recognition of this guy?” asked Stark.

“His name is Wilson Fisk,” Romanov informed them. “He’s a shady business tycoon.”

“Figures,” said Stark. He kicked Fisk’s foot. “Shady business deals, was it? Getting money in mysterious ways?”

Wilson Fisk scoffed. “Coming from a Stark, that insult is a bit dim, arms dealer.”

“I don’t deal with weapons anymore,” Stark said coolly.

“Still deal with murdering civilians, though, don’t you?”

If Stark’s helmet was off, Bucky was certain his face would have been pale with fury. As it was, his helmet remained on – though the glow of the eyes seemed to squint in anger – and Stark shot a beam out of his hand, knocking Fisk out cold.

“Do you hear that?” asked Steve suddenly.

“Hear what?”

“The – the singing.”

Bucky strained to listen. Sure enough, from below them, was the muffled noise of someone singing, rather badly.

“What –”

“I can hear it,” said Bucky. “It’s below us.”

“Right,” said Stark, looking at the floor. “Well, it’s already messed up –”

He lasered a neat little human-sized hole in the already mucked up floor.

“Capsicle first,” said Stark.

Steve jumped through the hole with little regard for what was below him. Same as usual, of course. After no screams of pain or splattering occurred, Bucky followed after. They seemed to be in some sort of corridor, dark, with many doors leading off to other rooms. It felt rather like a high-tech version of the bunker he’d been trapped in during the war.

His eyes were adjusting to the darkness when Stark and Lang dropped next to him. Stark immediately lit up his hands as torches. Bucky blinked, his eyes flickering slightly at the sudden light.

“Through there,” said Steve, nodding his head. His ear was cocked slightly to continue to hear the very off-tune singing still filtering from somewhere around them. They trooped forwards and Steve yanked open a door with more force than necessary.

What was necessary, was Lang’s strangled shout at what they saw before them.

Two men were chained up in a dungeon-like cage. The one on the left hung limply, his red suit torn to shreds. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest, Bucky would have thought he was dead. A steady stream of blood was dripping from his mouth as he lay unmoving.

What was more shocking – and the reason for Lang’s shout – was the man on the right.

Dressed in red and black, and a similar size to the man on the left, the man on the right seemed to be in a better shape than the unconscious one. Mainly due to the fact that it was he who was singing what appeared to be a rendition of ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’ and was still happily belting away the chorus.

What was confusing was that the head from which the singing was coming from wasn’t actually attached to the body. It was instead lying on the floor a few feet away in a pool of blood, whilst its body was chained up.

“What,” Stark began, his arm swaying downwards. “The actual fuck.”

“HI Tony,” said the head, who seemed to have finished his song. The notes were still echoing around the dungeon-like room. “Did you hear my singing?”

“Obviously,” said Stark, looking a mixture of highly perturbed, highly nauseas, and highly ready to faint. “How are you still talking?”

“Oh, yes,” said the head, as though it was only just realising it was on the floor. “I have many tricks, you know. Could you pop me back on, though? My nose is itchy; it’s been driving me crazy for, like, half an hour.”

Stark looked disgusted, and the other two not much better. So, Bucky, who was pretty much done with seeing shocking revelations – he’d been brainwashed and put into a cryogenic sleep on and off for 70 years, so what if a head could talk off a body – walked forward and lifted the head off the floor.

The head seemed delighted.

“Well well, hiya handsome,” it said. “Aren’t you a delight for the eyes? You should let your hair down more, would make the look more mysterious.”

Bucky didn’t quite know how to respond, so he placed the head on the body’s neck.

“Oo, yeah,” said the head. “So good. You can give me head any day.” The masked head winked. Bucky felt a bit flat-footed and shuffled backwards.

“Who are you?” asked Steve.

“Deadpool,” said the head.

“The mercenary?”

“You know me? Isn’t that cute,” the head grinned. As they watched, his neck began to fuse itself slowly back onto the head. Lang turned green.

“Yeah, as a mercenary,” said Stark. “Not as someone with freaky powers. You got decapitated.”

“I did,” said Deadpool. “They weren’t pleased when I just carried on talking. Or maybe they were upset that I decapitated him.” He nodded over to the other corner.

A man, who was very much dead, was slumped over, his head sliced cleanly off and unmoving. Two katanas lay nearby.

“My babies do a fine slicing job,” said Deadpool. “I should know, they used them to decapitate me.”

“Why exactly were you in here?” asked Lang.

“Came to fetch my side spice Dare,” said Deadpool, nodding towards the unconscious man. “Daredevil, if you want the readers to know exactly who it is. Not that there’s anyone else with a similar name. Apart from mine, but you already know me.”

“Why was he here?”

“Dare’s been trying to get Fisk for ages,” said Deadpool. “Like me with Francis. It didn’t go well (also like me and Francis) and old Willy managed to catch him.”

“Is this why Daredevil’s been missing?” asked Bucky.

“Congratulations, sweetheart, you’re putting things together, just like me and my head,” Deadpool winked again. “I didn’t want Spidey-Baby to follow me, but, I guess it was a good thing because it did not go well for me either.”

“You know Spider-Man?”

“We’re best buds,” said Deadpool.

There was a brief stretch of silence as it seemed everyone tried to comprehend what was going on.

“What shall we do?” said Steve.

“We could go get chimichangas,” said Deadpool.

“What’s a chimichanga?” Bucky asked.

Deadpool gasped. “You’ve never had a chimichanga?”

“It’s Mexican,” said Stark.

“We didn’t really have that in the forties,” said Bucky defensively.

“We don’t have time for chimichangas,” said Stark. “The police are coming.”

“Ooo,” said Deadpool. “Not great for me.”

“Nor for me,” said Bucky.

“We need to get out of here,” said Steve. “Er – Daredevil – needs medical attention. And – um – Deadpool might need to be checked over.”

“Nah,” said Deadpool cheerfully. “I’m all good.” He shrugged his shoulders. It seemed his head hadn’t quite attached properly at the back, so it flopped forwards to rest against his chest. “Oops. I feel like Nearly Headless Nick.”

“I’ll stay for the police,” said Stark, voice sounding strange as he watched Deadpool flop his head back up with an odd little squelch. “I can fly back after. The rest of you get out of here.”

Bucky nodded at him in gratitude, but Steve stepped forwards.

“I can stay, Tony,” he said. “You can go see Pet –”

“No, no, I’ll stay,” Stark walked brusquely to the side, seemingly inspecting the damage to the dead decapitated man (apparently, this was now something to distinguish). “Got to clear the damage.”

“But –”

“FRIDAY, get the mini drones to carry a stretcher down, pronto,” Stark interrupted, now gazing up at the hole in the ceiling. “And get the police to Fisk, pronto.” He flicked his helmet up. His face had a cut on one side, which was trickling. “You lot get out of here.”

“I’m staying,” said Steve firmly. “The press will catch wind of this soon –”

“– which is more of a reason to go –”

“– which I think will be a good chance to show we’re working together again. I won’t let you take the fall again.”

“Tension,” Deadpool said in a very carrying whisper. Stark ignored him.

There was a buzz as a stretcher descended into view. Bucky and Steve – after ripping the handcuffs off (“I love someone strong,” said Deadpool) – lifted the unconscious Daredevil onto the stretcher. The drones buzzed louder as it lifted back up through the hole.

Steve offered Deadpool a hand after unchaining him, which he accepted. Together, all five of them went back up to where Fisk was still lying, unconscious, in the middle of the floor.

“I’ve been there before,” said Deadpool.

The sounds of footfall started to become louder as the police headed up the building. Steve and Stark remained standing in the room as Deadpool, Bucky and Lang hitched back up to the rooftop (Lang sat on Bucky’s shoulder, as he could not get up the wall). Romanov and Barton were still piloting the Quinjet and hovering.

“Took you long enough,” said Barton through the open door. “Who’s that?”

“HI, I’m Deadpool,” said Deadpool.

“Huh, you with the other red suit in here?”

“Yep,” said Deadpool. “We’re the dream team.”

“Sure,” said Barton. “but not for long if you don’t get a move on.”

They all trooped in. Romanov was in the pilot seat, with Barton sliding in next to her. The drone-operated stretcher was hovering in the corner next to Sam, who was looking very sorry for himself as he lay on the medical bench.

Lang had barely returned to normal size before Romanov shot away towards the Tower, giving anxious looks towards Sam, whose head was still bleeding, and Daredevil, who had not moved.

“Helen Cho is at the Tower,” said Barton, as though Bucky should know who Helen Cho was. “Good thing, too, with Spidey’s injuries.” He looked rather grim. “Rhodey messaged saying she was helping. The spare can help this dude, and Sam.”

“Will they be OK?”

“Sam should,” said Barton. “I think he’s concussed, though. The red guy seems pretty done in. Not sure about Spidey, either. Did Stark stay behind?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky.

“Shouldn’t he be the first on the jet?” Barton said, furrowing his eyebrows.

This had not escaped Bucky’s mind, either. Stark had been extremely quick in stating he would stay behind to ‘deal’ with the police, and to cut off Steve’s suggestion of seeing Parker. Why, after all this time, would Stark not want to be at Parker’s bedside. Especially with his injuries? He had let Bucky go, in order not to run in with police, but surely Steve was more than capable of dealing with them. It was as though, even though the entire process was to find Parker, that Stark did not actually want to see him.

“He probably feels guilty and is trying to avoid seeing Peter over the possibility that Peter will blame Tony for everything,” said Romanov. “Or, if Peter’s injuries are severe, the possibility that Tony is to blame for his death or long-term health issues.”

“Huh,” said Barton, pondering Romanov’s words. “Sounds about right, to be honest. Let’s hope he pulls his head out of his ass soon.”

“Or Pepper will do it for him,” said Romanov.

“You missed my stop,” said Deadpool, who, up until that point, had been staring extremely silently at Daredevil.

“What?” said Romanov.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Deadpool, hopping over to the door. Without warning, he yanked it open, making everyone – apart from Daredevil – exclaim in surprise. “I’ll walk.”

With that, he jumped out the jet.

“What the –”

“He’ll be fine,” said Bucky, peering carefully out the doorway. Romanov, despite her obvious surprise, had not paused in shooting away towards the tower. Deadpool had already been blocked by other buildings.

“He jumped out of a plane!”

“When we met him, he’d been decapitated,” said Lang.

“What the fuck.”

It was with great trepidation that Bucky waited for the inevitable call that he would be sent to the Raft due to him breaking the rules of his house arrest. After returning, taking off his arm (which couldn’t quite fit back in place), and showering away the fight, he waited for the call.

Romanov had disappeared with Daredevil when they had landed, presumably to also find Potts and Rhodey, who were looking over Peter. Barton and Lang had gone to decompress in the lounge. Sam had been taken away as soon as they’d touched down, which meant Bucky was sure it wouldn’t take long for him to be able to see him. If he hadn’t been taken away first.

When the time ticked to an hour, Bucky wandered down towards the medbay in order to find Sam. The waiting area was filled with Potts, Rhodey, and Romanov, the latter of whom looked rather stony.

“Bucky,” said Rhodey. “Sam’s down the hall. He’s all OK.”

“And Parker?”

“Cho’s still with him,” Rhodey said grimly. “The fight was not pretty, and it seems the severe food deprivation, combined with the fight a month ago, has not made it an easy task.”

“They’ve got the bullets out,” said Romanov. “He was shot three times.” Her lips pursed. “Tony says he’s on his way.”

“Shit,” said Bucky.

“Yeah,” said Rhodey. “The er – Daredevil, was it? – he’s still out. The others are helping him, but Cho is going to check him over soon. He’s not in a good way, either.”

“What’s the damage?”

“He was beaten to a pulp, basically,” said Rhodey.

“Saw that for myself, really,” said Bucky. He gave a vague nod and continued to walk down the corridor towards Sam’s room.

He was awake and propped up when he entered and eating a yogurt.

“Hey, Buck,” he said.

“Sam,” said Bucky. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” said Sam. He slurped some more yogurt quite enthusiastically. “Head’s swimming but I’ve got yogurt.”

“That’s great,” said Bucky.

“Steve back?”

“On the way.”

“Cool,” said Sam. “I was disappointed to find no one wailing at my bedside when I woke up.”

“Apologies,” grinned Bucky. “I was waiting to be arrested.”

Sam’s face fell a bit. “You won’t get arrested, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugged. “Broke the rules, didn’t I?”

“I’m sure Steve and Stark count as authority,” said Sam. “They can’t arrest you for saving Spider-Man.”

“And Daredevil,” said Bucky.

“What?”

“Found him and Deadpool in a basement,” Bucky collapsed into a chair by Sam’s bed. “Fisk seemed to have caught them, which was why Spidey was there. He’s still unconscious, but Deadpool jumped out the jet before he came here.”

“He what?”

“When we found him, his head had been cut off,” said Bucky.

“You’re telling me having a spider dude isn’t the weirdest thing right now?”

Bucky shrugged slightly. “He’s still up there, but I was dealing with weird shit back in the 40’s. Steve was so small, man.” He shook his head. “Then – poof.”

Sam gave a chuckle but didn’t say much more, as Steve himself launched the door open and rushed inside. In very Captain America type strides, he hurried across the room to join them.

“Speak of the devil,” said Sam.

“Sam! Are you alright?”

“I’m swell,” said Sam, taking another spoon of yogurt. “Have you had this yogurt?”

“Um, no,” said Steve.

“It’s good.”

Steve blinked it away – always impressive, really, but the easiest way to move on – and shifted his blanket, tucking it under Sam’s legs and patting the edges.

“Dude!” said Sam.

“Sorry,” said Steve. “I hadn’t realised you were down! Tony only said as we came over.”

“I only got concussed,” muttered Sam. “That guy was huge.”

“How did the police go?”

“Not great,” said Steve. “They were a bit pissed off with the damage, but we managed to tell them it was mostly Fisk. They were most pissed at the fact that they had to deal with Fisk, I think. He’s not a … nice person.” He finished by trailing off.

“Not a nice person,” nodded Sam. “Eloquent. Also: of course he’s a dick, did you not see what he’s done to Spider-Man?”

“I have a feeling it goes further than merely fighting,” said Steve, looking troubled. He had his frowny face on. “Stark says that Peter wouldn’t know of Fisk, and Fisk usually flies under the radar. When Peter wakes up, we’re going to have to ask what he’s been up to, because at the moment the only charges against Fisk are the fighting ones. There’s not much in that. We don’t want anyone breathing down our necks again.”

Bucky didn’t want to ask about himself – how selfish could one be for a conversation about a kid who was beaten up – but still had the nervous, jittery feeling that the situation could change at any minute. It was giving him a nervous twitch, to say the least. Steve did not seem to notice, too busy contemplating what sort of things Fisk could do; Sam, eating his yogurt, gave him a concerned glance.

“Anyway,” said Steve abruptly, slapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Stark’s sorting out the situation, he’s saying that Rhodey gave approval – which he did – because he’s of some sort of authority level.”

“You’re not?”

“Captain by name, apparently by rank, but not necessarily trustworthy anymore,” Steve said with a slightly twisted smile. “Everyone still thinks we’re going to go crazy on them or something.”

Bucky shifted awkwardly.

“Not just you, Bucky,” said Steve. “All of us. Tony seems to think so too. He has that look in his eye. Like we’re going to do what we did in Lagos, or the airport.”

“Right,” said Bucky glumly.

“Do you trust Stark?” asked Sam.

Steve pondered.

“I did,” he said. “I – I guess at the moment, I’m not so sure. What if he changes his mind? I can’t fight him again.”

“He won’t,” said Bucky. “He knows why the Accords were crooked, he won’t break your trust again.”

“I destroyed it in Siberia,” said Steve.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Steve sighed. “He wouldn’t’ve stopped. And I knew you were innocent. It wasn’t a question of the friendship between me and Tony, it was what was right. The Accords were … stifling at best.”

“He betrayed us too,” said Sam. “We were locked into the Raft, man. Those three weeks felt like years.” He looked at Bucky. “No comparison, though.”

Bucky grinned.

A nurse came through the door behind them, pausing only briefly to observe Bucky and Steve, before focusing on Sam.

“Time for rest, now, Mr Wilson, it’s five a.m,” said the nurse. “You two, he needs rest.”

With a rather obvious sign to leave – and Sam grinning widely behind them as the nurse tapped her foot impatiently – Bucky and Steve headed out. Steve looked rather baffled at the nurse’s complete rejection.

“She’d do well back in the war,” said Bucky as they left.

“Ruthless,” said Steve, shaking his head and grinning slightly. “She tapped her foot.”

“She didn’t even exclaim ‘Captain America’!” Bucky grinned back. “No gushing!”

Steve punched him in the shoulder as they continued back through the corridor. The light-hearted feel dampened slightly as they walked closer to where Parker and Daredevil’s rooms were.

Rhodey, Potts and Romanov had gone when they walked through. The corridor stood sickeningly empty; Bucky and Steve’s footsteps sounded too loud as the continued walking. As one, they slowed when coming towards Parker’s door. They passed, glancing inside. Stark was sat by Parker’s bedside with his head in his hands.

Parker lay unmoving.

Feeling far too awake for someone who had not slept for over forty-eight hours, Bucky remained steady for the day, waiting for the inevitable (restless) crash later on. Steve had gone to bed for a couple of hours before joining him in the lounge. They started a television show that Barton had apparently recommended, after seeing the news report of their assemble at the rooftop. The news casters had already got about five things wrong, which caused Steve’s mouth to morph into a pout of annoyance. Another presenter stated the appearance of Bucky, but Steve turned it over before they said the inevitable words everyone believed. Dangerous. Murderer. Bucky preferred the news reporter who stated that Captain America and Iron Man’s return was because they’d reconciled romantically again. He laughed for ten minutes at that and stated it could have been true if Tony wasn’t so dedicated to Pepper. Steve had thrown a pillow at him and rolled his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t quite used to having a TV screen the size of a cinema but enjoyed it immensely. Technology and mechanics had always been an interest to him; he just never got around to pursuing it. He'd left his arm off since the fight, which Steve had eyed but not made note of.

Barton and Lang joined them around mid-morning, with the former being not as tactful.

“Where’s your arm, RoboCop?”

Bucky shrugged. “Feels weird.”

“You could get Tony to look at it,” said Steve.

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, like that’s one of his main concerns right now.”

“Parker hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet,” said Steve, who had checked. “Daredevil woke for five minutes but was knocked out again pretty quick.”

“Do we have to call him Daredevil? Do we not know his real name yet?” said Barton. “I don’t go round calling Scott Ant-Man.”

“You call Parker Spider-Man,” said Lang.

“I call him Spidey or Spidey-Boy, there’s a difference,” sniffed Barton. “You can’t do that with Daredevil. What am I supposed to call him, Darey?”

“Sam’s still there for another night,” said Steve, eyeing Barton as though he was wondering if he needed help. Bucky tried not to laugh.

“I’m pretty sure he’s only still there for the food,” said Barton. “Obviously Stark has better hospital food than a regular hospital.”

“Better than prison food,” said Lang idly.

Barton shot him a look. “At least that was for three weeks.”

Lang shrugged. “San Quentin had a similar menu.”

“I forget you were in prison for four years,” said Barton. “You. You’re like a puppy.”

“Er, thanks,” said Lang. “I guess. What kind of puppy?”

“Like a Labrador,” said Barton.

Lang contemplated it. “Yeah, OK.”

“You’re welcome,” said Barton, flopping heavily onto the couch. “What we watching?”

The alarm went off at around midnight. Bucky awoke quickly from a restless sleep, twisting his sheets in shock. He launched himself to sitting position, gasping, and glistening with sweat.

This was it. He was going to be taken away.

With great trepidation, he pulled on a top, disregarding his arm – which still felt weird – and walked into the living area where the rest were – as they all had done the previous night but one floor above, apart from Sam, who was still in the medbay, and Stark.

“What’s going on?” asked Lang.

“Daredevil’s gone,” said Romanov.

“What?”

“Deadpool broke in and got him out,” Romanov, who sounded irritated. She was still fully dressed, her hair slightly mussed. It seemed that resting in the day had only made them work at night; Barton, however, still looked rather droopy. He’d played video games with Bucky and Lang all afternoon.

“How did he sneak past?” Rhodey asked. His face showed what they were all thinking; shocked, and worried that Deadpool could breach all security protocols without so much as a blip on the radar.

“That’s the thing,” said Romanov. “He didn’t sneak at all. He’s on every single camera that leads to the medbay, but FRIDAY did not alert us until after he’d left.”

“FRIDAY? Why didn’t you alert us?”

“I’m afraid his entrance did not go against my protocols, Colonel Rhodes.”

“An unknown person comes in the tower and it’s not in your protocols?” Rhodey sounded beyond exasperated; he sounded completely, utterly, done. Bucky, who’s brain was still on him getting arrested, could relate.

“I apologise, Colonel Rhodes.”

“Why did he take him?” Barton said. “He’d barely woken up.”

“Exactly,” said Romanov. “We weren’t exactly going to let him skip off without explanation. They have something to hide.”

“Maybe just their identity,” said Lang reasonably. “Perhaps they didn’t want us knowing?”

“Pricey way of doing it,” said Steve. “What if Daredevil dies from the lack of medical attention?”

“Cho says he was stable, and conscious,” said Romanov. “I think it was a perfect time to get him. No one was ready to ask him questions, but he could still be strong enough to leave.”

“How did no one see Deadpool?”

“We don’t know,” said Barton. “It’s all a bit weird.”

“Where’s Tony?”

“With Peter,” said Rhodey. “I don’t think he’s moved for a long time.”

“I’ll relieve him,” said Romanov. “There’s nothing we can do about the others. If they didn’t want help and voluntarily give information, we’ll just have to take it.”

She marched out the room.

Barton let out a whistle.

“Man, I don’t know if she’s more pissed that Daredevil left, or that Deadpool got in so easy,” he said. “I’m going to bed. And locking my door, apparently.”

The others muttered amongst themselves before filtering off too, leaving Bucky alone in the living room.

They had had the lights on ‘night mode’ before Bucky had entered, meaning the lights were dim and the shadows jumped out at him in his peripheral vision. The view from the windows, however, calmed him.

He’d never seen the New York City skyline quite like this before. He’d seen it from an aeroplane, yes, and the time he’d won some track event at school and won two tickets up the Empire State Building. That was right before Steve’s Ma had died, and they hadn’t managed to do anything like that afterwards.

The Empire State was a long time ago; Bucky could only briefly remember the trip. Stark’s view, however, held an entirely different story. From the sanctuary of being inside, with floor-to-ceiling windows, showed the New York he could only vaguely reconcile with. He could see the Chrysler Building, the river overlooking Queens. The bustle of cars, and people, and the lights. Bucky could not see Brooklyn; he’d spent many a time looking in its direction thinking that, one day, he’d finally be allowed out of this tower and get an apartment back home. For now, he spent his time on the balcony on the ninety-eighth floor, the only place for fresh air other than Stark’s penthouse and wishing for many things that confused each other in his brain.

The Avengers’ living area didn’t have as good a view, but it nevertheless had a good one. It was peculiar that such a busy, bustling view calmed him, but it did. One day, he would be able to leave the tower as easily as Deadpool had entered. He could go around the city as he pleased; perhaps he wouldn’t remain in New York at all.

His musings were interrupted when Romanov and Stark stalked through the doors in some heated exchange.

“– who gives a fuck, Natasha, I want to sit with Peter –”

“You need to have a shower and cool off from the fight,” said Romanov coolly. “It’s gone one, and you haven’t slept since before we fought.”

“What are you, my minder?”

“Don’t be revolting,” said Romanov. “I want to know why Deadpool could get inside the building; you’re useless to me if you’re buzzing on coffee and desperation.”

“Someone needs to be with Peter –”

“That someone does not have to be you,” said Romanov. “Barnes can do it whilst you sleep.”

“Barnes?” Stark had not yet realised Bucky was there, it seemed. With Nat’s pointed head tilt, he saw Bucky lurking by the windows and blanched. “Why are you sneaking in here?”

“It’s the communal living room,” said Romanov. “Don’t be obtuse. Everyone else is sleeping, I’m going to see where Deadpool is. You’re sleeping until you can give an explanation as to why FRIDAY allowed him in, and Barnes can sit next to Peter and alert us if he wakes up. From Cho’s expectations, I truly doubt it.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” said Romanov. “Go moan to Pepper. Besides, FRIDAY is – apparently – keeping an eye on the entire building. If Peter is in danger, you’ll be aware.”

Stark couldn’t argue with Romanov’s logic – and reference to his brilliance – but nonetheless struggled for a good while into letting Bucky – who hadn’t even said he would – sit next to Parker. He wasn’t about to question Romanov, however, so remained quiet in the corner.

“Fine,” said Stark. “But if anyone else is awake, they can take over.”

So, in a wild turn that Bucky had not imagined whilst looking out at the view of New York, he found himself sat beside the bed of a very unconscious boy with nothing to keep him occupied other than his thoughts.

Parker was very small in the bed; it swamped him, with the duvet tucked as nicely as possible around the many tubes protruding from places Bucky didn’t want to know. The nurse who had been checking Parker’s vitals when he had entered had said he was able to breathe properly now. Bucky, who hadn’t realised he couldn’t, tried not to vomit.

Parker’s hair was long, but not in a way that Bucky thought he wanted (like his own). It was a curly mop that ended near his shoulders, with a few curls sticking out in odd directions. His face, though young, was gaunt. His eyes looked huge in comparison to his face; rather like the Spider-Man mask itself. Not much of his face could be seen, as Peter had a breathing tube, and a feeding tube, and a some-other-thing-tube. But Bucky could still see the crease in his eyebrows, the concerned moue of the mouth. He was having bad dreams he could not wake from yet.

Instead of keeping himself occupied with dangerous thoughts, Bucky decided to revert back to army (or Winter Soldier) tactics of wiping the mind in order to focus on his task. The task in question: to protect Peter Parker. He angled his chair slightly right, as to watch the window as well as the door, and made sure he was shadowed in order for sneak attack if necessary. If Deadpool had entered so easily, then what of people who wanted to hurt Parker? Was Deadpool even on Parker’s side?

With a knife firmly in the grip of his one hand, Bucky sat stoically in his hard wooden chair and waited for the inevitable quick return of Stark.