Chapter 4
Bucky and Clark appear on the front steps of Wayne Manor after work, just as Alfred finishes setting the dinner table for five. He welcomes them in and sends them straight down to the batcave.
In the batcave they find Steve and Bruce reviewing security footage sent over by Commissioner Gordon. Besides them Dick, uncharacteristically quiet, watches as well. Bucky crosses the room and stands behind Steve’s chair. He leans forward, resting his arms on it. Steve’s hair brushes against his arms and he resists the urge to ruffle it, knowing that the action would only embarrass Steve.
"What are we looking at?" He asks instead.
"It's security footage from a storage unit across the street from Greenthumb Greenhouse and nursery. Gordon sent it over an hour ago." Bruce says, his eyes never straying from the grainy video feed.”
“Anything useful?” Bucky asks. He squints at the screen as a blurry figure enters a building.
"The greenhouse went out of business a few years ago, but as of a week ago it looks like someone has been regularly breaking in." Bruce says.
“We’re thinking Poison Ivy,” Steve says craning his neck to look up at Bucky. He’s tense, sitting unnaturally still in his chair. He always does that when he’s trying to project an aura of calm that he doesn’t really feel. Looking closer Bucky can see the pinched look in the corner of his eyes and the way his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. The subtle body language of Steve Rogers that Bucky has spent an entire childhood learning. This is the Steve that Bucky can read best.
"This is great," Clark says watching the screen, "let's go check it out."
"The break ins occur between 11 PM and 3 AM." Bruce says, "we can set up a stakeout."
“Someone turned on the electricity and the water in the building as well.” Steve says, “if we’re lucky this isn’t just her hideout, but where she’s been growing the spores as well. This could really help Tony and Bruce synthesize an antidote.”
There’s a lilt of hope in his voice that warms Bucky’s heart; Steve isn’t giving up yet. Despite being kicked down his whole life Steve has remained an optimist at heart. And if Steve wants to hold on to hope, then Bucky plans on clinging along with him. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of Steve not getting the serum back.
An awkward silence hangs in the room after Steve’s comment. Clearly, neither Clark nor Bruce wants to voice the idea that reversing what happened to him may not be as simple as Steve thinks. Bucky watches as the pair exchange glances as if each trying to will the other to say something. He fights to keep the wry grin off his face. Even if one of them did speak up, it’s not like it would do anything. It is impossible to talk sense into Steve once he’s got an idea in his head; Bucky knows from ample experience. Bruce and Clark are saved from even attempting such a feat by the timely arrival of Alfred announcing dinner.
They march upstairs. Having missed lunch, Steve is famished and the smell of a homecooked meal sets his stomach grumbling. Yet, when Alfred sets the plate of chicken marsala Steve can do little more than pick at his food. It’s rich and heavy and Steve’s appetite is far from normal. He manages a few bites and then watches the others dig in with much more enthusiasm. If he can’t eat, at least he can plan. They only have a few hours before the stakeout.
“We should take shifts for the stakeout. Bruce, Dick, and Clark can take the first shift and Buck and I will do the second one.” Steve says.
The clattering of silverware on fine china stops. Bruce and Clark exchange looks. Finally, Clark speaks.
“Shifts are good.” He says neutrally. Bruce shoots him a scowl before turning back to Steve.
“Dick and I will run first shift. Clark and Bucky will fun second shift. You take point on the comms.”
“Alfred usually runs comms though.” Steve says. He raises an eyebrow and gives Bruce a stern look that Bucky knows once made a general cry. It doesn’t have quite the same effect on his pale thin face.
“Yes, and Alfred can assist you with the technology if you need it.” Bruce says. Steve gets that look on his face that Bucky knows means he won’t back down. Any lead on something that even has a hint of reversing his situation is far too important for him to not be involved in. Steve is famously bad at sitting on the sidelines of things. A glance at Bruce, shows him looking unconcerned. Bucky wonders just how much experience Bruce has with a stubborn punk Steve.
“I think we have a misunderstanding. I wasn’t requesting permission to go on the stakeout. I will be there.” Steve says firmly.
Dick, Clark, and Bucky all turn to watch Bruce’s reaction, like it’s a verbal tennis match.
“You can’t.” Bruce says.
"Why not?" Steve challenges, like he isn't the shortest one in the room and still wearing Dick's hand-me-downs. Bruce growls in frustration.
"Because," he snaps gesturing at Steve's tiny form, "you can’t fight like that."
“To hell I can’t,” Steve says, “I’ve fought plenty like this.”
The set in his jaw and the hard glint in his eyes reminds Bucky of the first time Steve had been rejected from the army. If the entire US government couldn’t deter him, Bucky doubts Bruce will.
"You'll endanger the whole mission." Bruce snaps. Pink splotches of color form on Steve's cheeks, a result of the combination of anger and embarrassment. Mistake, Bucky thinks; Steve hates people thinking they know his limits better than he does. The fact that other people usually do know his limits better than he does is completely beside the point.
Sensing that the conversation is rapidly entering a death spiral, Clark jumps in.
“Bucky, you agree that Steve should man the comms right?” He asks, shooting Bucky a desperate pleading look.
Steve barely manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course they would look to Bucky, as if Bucky is some sort of Steve wrangler. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scoffing, reminding himself that it’s not Clark’s fault. A lot of folks in the 30s made the same assumption. They spoke to Bucky about Steve, like he wasn't in the room, or was just a cranky toddler and Bucky his long suffering babysitter.
“Sorry pal,” Bucky says, “you can tell Steve to stay home until you’re blue in the face, but you ain’t going to stop him.”
"So, you think he should come?" Clark clarifies, looking decidedly unthrilled at Bucky's response.
Bucky shrugs, "If you don’t let him come, he’ll just show up anyway.”
Steve ducks his head to hide his smile. Bucky had stopped trying to police his behavior by the time they were 15, deciding it was easier to drag Steve out of a fight than prevent him from fighting at all.
"Alright, I guess" Clark says, still looking uncertain.
“Can I talk to you Clark, in the other room?” Bruce says. He stands up, ignoring Steve’s scowl as he passes. Clark has the decency to flash Steve an apologetic look as he follows after him.
Alfred, washing the pots and pans from dinner, looks up from his place by the sink as they enter the kitchen. Bruce shuts the door behind them and turns to glare at Clark.
“You can not be serious about letting him come just because Bucky said so, right?” Bruce asks.
“Listen I don’t like it any more than you do, but if Steve plans to show up anyway I would at least prefer he be with someone who can watch his back and not sneaking off on his own,” Clark says. He runs his fingers through his hair and fidgets worriedly.
“He’s not going to show up. It’d be suicide and Steve isn’t that dumb.” Bruce scoffs. A sleek black cat slips into the room and rubs against his leg. He bends down to scratch her ears absentmindedly.
“No, of course he’s not dumb,” Clark says quickly, “But you weren’t there at the battle of Wakanda, you didn’t see the way Steve threw himself in front of Thanos. He doesn’t have very good survival instincts.”
Bruce rubs his forehead, pushing away the feeling of an oncoming headache, and collapses into a kitchen chair. Immediately his lap is occupied by a meowing little monster.
“Keeping an eye on Dick is already hard enough,” Bruce says, “We can’t keep an eye on both of them.”
Clark shrugs helplessly.
“Forgive me Sir for interrupting,” Alfred says as he dries the last pan, “but I fear that you are underestimating Captain Rogers.”
Bruce gives him a flat look, “You’ve seen him. He’s so small he makes Dick look big.”
“And there’s more to fighting than just size.” Alfred says, “The man is a trained soldier and you’d do better treating him like one and not like a child.”
“Not wanting a teammate to throw himself into the jaws of death isn’t treating him like a child,” Bruce says. Alfred raises a stiff eyebrow that has Bruce looking away, thoroughly scolded.
“Alfred’s right.” Clark says, “Steve can make his own decision about what he can or cannot handle.”
Bruce looks between Alfred and Clark and then looks down at the cat on his lap.
“I can’t be the only rational one here. You agree with me, right?”
The cat jumps off his lap. Bruce sighs.
“Fine,” Bruce grouses, “but you and Bucky are both going out with him and don’t come crying to me when he gets hurt.”
Bruce stomps past him and back into the dining room. Three sets of eyes all swivel to him. Steve is still glaring.
“Come on, we all have a stakeout to prepare for,” Bruce says, “and we need to modify a Robin costume for Steve.”
A look of satisfaction crosses Steve’s face and Bucky’s smirk only grows at Bruce’s pronouncement. Bruce tries to tamp down at the worry roiling in his stomach. Mark his words, this is a bad idea.
Dinner complete, they head back to the batcave to put their final hours before the stakeout to good use. Bruce and Dick prepare to take first watch, while Bucky takes up position manning the comms and Clark takes a seat at the computer. Steve, meanwhile, gets to work altering an old Robin costume. The red, green, and yellow is garishly bright and Steve doesn't understand this world's preoccupation with capes, but it has bullet proof reinforcing and Steve can't afford to be picky. He adds pants, how Dick handles Gotham winters in this costume is beyond him. He also ditches the cape. It will only get in his way.
First shift passes slowly and silently. Bruce does little more than grunt each time they ask for an update. Costume complete, Steve has nothing better to do than stare at the clock, watching as the minutes tick past. He feels the familiar thrill of excitement that always proceeds a mission. He can do this.
As their shift gets closer, Clark begins to fidget. His eyes repeatedly drifting towards Steve.
"If you want to take the comms for the-"
"Nope. I don't." Steve cuts him off firmly.
Clark frowns but lets the matter drop. As the clock strikes one, Clark, Bucky, and Steve fly out to relieve Bruce and Dick from their shift. He touches down on the rooftop across the street from the greenhouse. Bruce watches them, his eyes flickering over Steve as if disappointed that he actually showed up.
"Call us the moment there's trouble." Bruce commands.
"And be careful." Dick says his eyes wide and unusually serious. He stares at Steve for a few seconds too long before looking away awkwardly. Then the two of then disappear into the night, like shadows fading into black.
Bucky immediately takes up position in the shadows far away from the rooftop edge. Hindered by poor eyesight, Steve finds a place to hunker down as close to the edge as possible. Even then, it’s hard to make out the door from this distance away and Steve knows that he’ll have to rely more on Bucky’s and Clark’s eyesight than his own. Clark hovers by Steve’s elbow, as if waiting for the first sign of trouble to drag Steve away.
For the first hour there’s nothing to do but wait in complete silence. Halfway through the second hour Steve fears that the stakeout has been a waste of time. Clark looks relieved at the lack of activity. Then, just before Steve is going to call it, Bucky spots movement.
"There," he grunts, "by the dumpsters on the south side."
Steve looks, but he can only see blurry shadows.
"I see them." Clark confirms.
"They just entered the greenhouse through the side door. Let's move in." Bucky commands. He jumps off the roof, Clark is close behind. Steve is left behind to figure out his own way down. Spying a fire escape on the side of the building he hastily climbs down. His movements are ungainly and awkward as his body tries to recapture the fluid motions it once could do so naturally.
He jumps the last few feet to the ground, his knees groaning in protest, and hurries after Bucky and Clark, who have long since disappeared.
Slipping inside, Steve sees things are not going well. Several plants glow eerily green and Clark looks decidedly pale and nauseous as he stands among them. Bucky is fairing only slightly better. Several henchmen have guns pointed at him and Clark and Bucky doesn’t dare start a fire fight with Clark so unable to defend himself. The two parties glare at each other in a tense standoff.
Unnoticed Steve creeps closer to one of the glowing plants. He plucks a leaf to examine closer, only to have the green glow fade immediately once the stem is severed. Steve grabs another leaf and watches the glow fade. He glances around the room. Kryptonite plants are scattered across the room, though most of them are in the row closest to Poison Ivy. It will be tricky, but as long as he remains unnoticed Steve thinks he can destroy the plants and tip the odds.
He grabs a pair of sheers and snips the first plant at the root, smirking in satisfaction as its light goes out. Slinking between the flowering rows of greenery Steve prunes another one. Inching closer to Poison Ivy, Steve cuts down another on his way. Then things go wrong. He’s spotted. Not by Poison Ivy or her men, but by Clark.
Clark openly stares at him in confusion and horror as Steve darts between the aisles towards Poison Ivy. Steve shakes his head, wordlessly begging Clark not to give his position away, but it’s too late. One of the men follow Clark’s eyes and sees Steve. He fires. Just above Steve’s head a pot shatters. Daisies come crashing down on him. Bucky darts forward as the man fires again. He rips the gun from the man’s hands and punches him, sending him flying into a row of kryptonite plants. They smash to the floor.
“No!” Poison Ivy shouts as she watches her protection fade out. She spins on her heal and runs for the backdoor. Clark gives chase. A horrible coughing stops him dead in his tracks though. He turns and sees Steve covered in potting soil and pollen. His cheeks are an unhealthy pink and his eyes are squeezed shut. Thin wheezy breaths that barely take in any air break up the rib aching coughs. Clark’s stomach drops at the sight. If Poison Ivy's plants were enough to drop Steve when he was a super soldier, they're liable to kill him now
Clark scoops Steve up easily, painfully aware of the way Steve's whole body shakes with every cough.
"We need to get him to the cave." Clark says.
"No," Steve gasps, "go after them."
Clark ignores him, Steve could be dying in his arms. Trusting Bucky to clean up here, Clark takes off.
"Clark no!" Steve squirms in his grip, but now high above the buildings, Clark only clings to him tighter.
"It's just allergies! I'm fine!"
Clark halts in midair, a sheepish blush slowly creeping up his face.
"You're letting her get away!" Steve scolds, and despite the fact his voice still rasps from his coughing fit and he’s still so concerningly pale, Clark finds himself shrinking back at the force of his glare. Clark lands, setting Steve down with an apologetic look.
"Hopefully Bucky was able to find them." Steve huffs. He taps on his ear piece.
"Sarge, did you find Poison Ivy?"
He hears the harsh breathing of Bucky running over the comms.
"In pursuit." Bucky grunts. Satisfied, Steve doesn't bother asking for details.
Steve looks around the deserted Gotham street and sighs. They’re too far away to be any use to Bucky. Anger burns in the pit of his stomach. They were so close to pulling off a successful mission. He glares at Clark, who wilts under his gaze, managing to look even more sheepish and guilty. Steve drops the glare, letting his shoulders slump. It’s not Clark’s fault. Besides, who can stay mad at Superman?
“Come on, let’s head back to the cave.” Steve says, “Bucky shouldn’t take much longer.”
Things are tense back at the cave as they await a report from Bucky. The only sound that can be heard is the rustling of the bats from the shadows above. After another twenty minutes of radio silence from Bucky, Bruce sends Steve upstairs to change out of his soil and pollen encrusted clothes. Steve would like to protest – he’s not a child – but the pollen is still aggravating his sinuses. Securing a promise that someone will come get him the moment they hear anything, Steve heads upstairs to shower and change.