Chapter 12
Dick keeps his eyes glued to the tracker, watching as a tiny green blip moves to the outskirts of the city, towards ThunderCorp. He estimates that if there’s nothing suspicious about the building it shouldn’t take more than an hour for Superman and The Captain to search it and make their way back to the apartment.
A cat jumps up onto his lap and Dick scratches it behind the ears. The tracker dot blinks at the ThunderCorp office. Dick watches, waiting for it to start moving again. He holds his breath, his whole body going still with anticipation, only noticing when the cat bats at his hand for lack of attention.
The door swings open. Dick jumps. From his place in the doorway Bucky frowns at the sight of an anxious Dick Grayson sitting alone in his apartment. Pushing back his exhaustion, Bucky takes a seat on the couch next to him.
“Hey Sarge.” Dick says barely glancing up.
“Hey kid.” Bucky says and hesitates. Dick can tell that Bucky is trying to find the words to politely ask what Dick is doing here. Dick does him a favor and answers the unasked question.
“Superman and The Captain have a lead on Bruce.” He holds up the tracking device, “They’re checking it out now.”
“That’s a nifty piece of tech.” Bucky says scooping up one of the cats.
“Bruce invented it. He’s a genius like that.”
A half smile flits across Bucky’s face. He looks over Dick’s shoulder at the blinking dot. An hour later and the dot hasn’t moved. Dick feels something shift in his chest. It’s hope. Superman wouldn’t be there this long if they hadn’t found something important. He relays his thought to Bucky and who nods thoughtfully, though instead of hopeful something darker and more worried crosses his face.
Around the second hour mark Dick’s hope begins to give way to apprehension. What could be taking them so long? Silently Bucky leaves the couch, disappearing into his bedroom. When he returns his casual t-shirt and jeans is replaced by a pair of black pants with an overabundance of pockets and a black shirt.
“You think something’s wrong too, huh?” Dick says.
“I’m just going to check out what’s taking them.”
“Then I so am I.” Dick jumps to his feet and slings his duffle bag over his shoulder. His body itches with the need to become Robin.
“No, just let me handle it,” Bucky says and he’s met with a hard glare. Bucky glares back. Dick doesn’t flinch. Few people can take a glare from the Winter Soldier so casually. It almost makes Bucky smile. He gives the boy a onceover. Dick is short and scrawny and his jaw in clenched in a painfully familiar way. For a moment Bucky swears he’s back in Brooklyn and there’s a pint-sized Steve Rogers glaring him down and telling him that he’s not going to stop applying to the army no matter how many times they reject him. Bucky hadn’t been able to win that argument, and looking at Dick, he realizes he’s not going to win this one either.
“Fine, but keep up and stay silent,” Bucky says. Dick’s mouth drops open at Bucky’s easy acquiescence and he scampers off to get changed.
When he comes back, he’s fixing the mask on his face. Bucky thinks he looks more like he’s about to go out trick-or-treating than crime fighting. But then again, his roommate dresses as the flag, so Bucky keeps his criticisms to himself.
“So, what do I call you in the field?” Dick asks.
“Bucky.”
“I can’t call you Bucky!” Dick huffs, “Are you telling me you don’t have a superhero name?”
“Trust me kid, I’m not a hero.”
“Yes you are, Alfred says so.” Dick scoffs as if that settles it, “anyway I can’t call you by your real name, it would give away our secret identities.”
Bucky sighs. They don’t have time for this, but the kid has a point. Secret identities are a big deal in this world. He doesn’t fully understand it, but he accepts it. He supposes he could be called Winter Soldier, but that name was associated with far too much cruelty and terror to ever be considered anything but a villain name in his opinion. Bucky wracks his brain for ideas, but he’s never had a real nickname before. At least not one that isn’t based on his real name.
“I know, I’ll call you Sarge.” Dick says, “The Captain and The Sergeant, it fits.”
Bucky tries to remain unmoved by the nickname, but being called Sarge brings him back to his Howling Commando days; of sitting around a campfire and trading rationed cigs and stories. It’s a warm homey feeling.
“Sure kid. Let’s go with that.” Bucky says, and he’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake. Dick beams at him.
Bucky and Dick set out. As they leap across rooftops, Bucky has to admit that he’s impressed by what he sees.
They leap across rooftops and Bucky has to admit that he’s impressed by what he sees. Dick may be small but he jumps like he thinks he can fly. It nearly gives Bucky a heart attack the first time he sees Dick dive off a roof only to catch himself on a flagpole. Bruce has trained him well. As the leave Metropolis behind the rooftops become scarcer and Bucky and Dick hit the pavement, skulking down alleyways and side streets, avoiding streetlights and passing cars.
They approach the building and electric fence. Bucky examines it with a frown. He could hop this with a running start, but there’s no way Dick can. He turns to say as much to Dick, only to find a patch of pavement where Dick was standing. Bucky curses, wildly looking around as worst-case scenarios play out in his head.
A short distance away he spots Dick and feels his heart settling back into a normal rhythm. Dick is halfway up a lamp pole. He waves at Bucky when he notices he’s being watched, and then pushes off from the pole. He hurtles through the night sky, clearing the fence by inches. He beams at Bucky from the other side of the fence. Rolling his eyes, Bucky joins him moments later.
“Sarge, look.” Dick says pointing to the trampled dirt and grass. There’s been a fight here. Bucky sees something faintly glowing green. He picks it up. A kryptonite bullet casing. The two share a significant look. He drops the casing and looks at the unassuming building. Somewhere in there are Steve and Clark and possibly Bruce. He’s just not sure what condition they will be in. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought the kid…
“Let’s keep moving.” He says gruffly. As they get closer, they hear something growling. They barely have time to register the noise before a white beast lunges at them.
“Get behind me,” Bucky shouts. With one hand he drags Dick behind him and with the other he goes for a knife. The dog bites down on Bucky’s arm and he breathes a sigh of relief that it’s the metal one. Bucky raises his knife, preparing for a killing blow. Then he gets a better look at the dog.
“Oh no.” He says softly, “what did they do to you boy?”
The growling stops. Bucky feels the bite on his arm loosen as the dog lets out a low whine.
“I know, you’re just scared aren’t you.” Bucky says gently. He lowers the knife, stowing it back in its holster. Carefully, telegraphing his every movement, he reaches out and strokes the dog’s head. The dog’s tail begins to wag as he closes his eyes.
“Sarge?” Dick asks. The dog’s eyes snap open a growl deep in his throat beginning.
“No,” Bucky says firmly, “You know better.”
He scratches the dog behind the ears and the growling stops.
“Sarge,” Dick says again, his voice sounds odd, panicked but also…confused. Bucky hums, still scratching the dog.
“The dog is floating.”
Bucky looks at Dick and then takes a closer look at the dog, who is indeed floating.
“Hmm, he didn’t do that back at the shelter.”
He stops petting the dog, who lowers back to the ground. Curious. But Bucky doesn’t have time to dwell on that mystery, as he catches the thudding sound of several guards running towards them.
Bucky swears and then glances at the kid behind him, wondering again why the hell he allowed himself to be convinced to take a kid into this type of fight. Dick doesn’t seem to notice. The guards run into view, one raises his gun and Bucky whips his head around, seeing red. They’re pointing a gun a kid. They are actually going to shoot a kid. Bucky has met some truly despicable people in his time, but those who hurt children will always be the worst in his opinion.
He darts forward. His metal fist collides with a very breakable skull. As the man falls back, Bucky rips the gun out of his hand and tosses it to the side. The next man he grabs by the throat and it would be so easy to squeeze just a little harder. The man must know it to because his eyes widen in terror. No, Bucky doesn’t kill, not anymore. He throws the man into a third guard and they both tumble to the ground with a satisfying thump. Bucky is vicious and methodical. He might not kill anymore, but he doubts any of the men he gets ahold of are walking away without permanent injuries.
There’s panic in the ranks as men break away. They had been prepared for superman, they had even taken precautions against The Captain, but they are blindsided by the unstoppable force that is the Winter Soldier. Bucky doesn’t let a single one escape. He feels bones snap under his fists. It’s a disgustingly familiar feeling, one that he’s felt countless times over the decades and too many times against innocent people. Bucky shakes his head. He has to stay present.
But memories crowd their way in anyway. Memories of the war and the smell of gunpowder mingle with memories of the feeling of ice in his veins as he dispassionately shoots a politician under hydra’s orders. Too many memories mob his mind and he does the only thing he can; he lashes out. Each hit gets a little harder as he tries to punch away the demons that haunt him. Guards fall and they don’t get back up.
The last standing guard shakes as he raises his gun, but he doesn’t point it at Bucky. He points it at Dick.
“Move and I shoot!” His voice cracks. Bucky reaches for his knife, confident he can make the throw before the man can get a shot off.
That turns out to be unnecessary, as before he can even attempt it, the dog’s eyes glow red. With a growl the gun melts in the guard’s hands. Then the dog pounces. The guard screams, trying to protect his throat as he begs and sobs for mercy. The dog keeps his jaws at the man’s throat but doesn’t bite down, looking at Bucky for directions.
“Quit bellyaching,” Bucky grumbles at the man pulling the dog off him. Then for good measure, he punches the man, who falls back, out cold.
Dick stands over the pile of unconscious guards.
“Wow! Did you learn to fight like that in the war?”
Bucky’s metal fist clenches as he looks over the destruction he caused. His mind flashes to other more violent acts of destruction.
“Not exactly.” He says shortly. The Winter Soldier’s crimes hang heavy over his head as he looks out over the destruction he’s caused.
“Sarge?” Dick asks hesitantly.
“I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.” Bucky grunts. He and Dick move on, the dog follows as if not sure what else to. The odd group enters the building.
“Where do you think they are?” Dick asks. Bucky glances at the bland interior. The first floor looks like just a normal office lobby. He’s been in Hydra run buildings like this before. It’s always the same, normal on main floor where anybody might wander in, but the real crazy stuff was always kept on the lower levels.
“Down.” Bucky says and nods to a door leading to a staircase. As they descend a deep sense of foreboding overtakes Bucky. He has to force himself to keep moving forward. Dick must feel it too because he can feel the kid step closer to him. Just before they reach the bottom, they hear the screams.
“Bruce!” Dick pushes past Bucky and leaps over the last few steps. He barely notices the dungeon like quality of the basement as he races past empty cells. He stops suddenly when he gets his first look at Bruce.
Bruce sobs weakly, his eyes staring blankly past Dick. His face is unnaturally pale.
“Bruce,” Dick mumbles as his eyes well with tears. He feels them sliding down his cheeks. Bruce ignores him. Dick has never seen Bruce like this before. He’s so broken. Dick hadn’t thought it was possible to break Batman. A hand on his shoulder makes him jump.
“Just me kid.” Bucky says gently.
“He…he…we should have gotten here sooner.” Dick mumbles. Bucky doesn’t argue.
“We’re here now.”
Bucky stands and gives Steve a half smile.
“You okay?”
“Clark got shot but I dressed the wound.” Steve says. He tilts his head in confusion, before a scowl overtakes his face, “Why did you bring the monster dog here?”
“He’s not a monster.” Bucky says, “this is the dog I was telling you about. The one that I thought Clark might like.”
“The dog tried to kill us.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” Bucky says stubbornly. He pulls out a lock pick and gets to work. Behind him, Dick wipes his tears and pulls out his own lock pick.
“It’s okay Bruce, I’m getting you out of here.” Dick promises. The door swings open. He doesn’t want to step closer to Bruce with his vacant eyes and wheezing cries, but he forces himself to anyway. He puts a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder, not that it makes a difference. Dick feels his heart shatter with every whimper from his mentor.
Dick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. He breathes in a damp mildewing smell. It’s disgusting and something about it causes him to shudder in fear. His breathing picks up and his heart begins to race. A hazy cloud steals across his mind. Dick shakes his head, blinking rapidly.
He gasps, recognizing that smell; Scarecrow’s fear toxin. He takes a closer look at Bruce; glassy eyes, unusually pale skin that burns to the touch, erratic pulse, a look of wild terror. All the symptoms are there.
Dick fumbles for his utility belt. He can fix this. Bruce has drilled into him the proper procedures for dealing with fear toxin, as well as the Joker’s laughing gas, and numerous other gaseous poisons one is likely to come across while fighting crime in Gotham. He grabs his syringe and checks the dosage. Certain it’s correct he plunges it into Bruce’s arm. Bruce’s scream dies in his throat. He blinks, his eyes begin to clear immediately. He looks at Dick. He looks at Dick.
“Di-Robin?” He mumbles.
“Bruce!” He throws himself into Bruce’s arms. Tears stain Bruce’s already dirty and rumpled suit jacket. Still blinking in confusion, Bruce wraps his arms around Dick, one hand coming up to bury itself in a tangle of dark hair.
“It’s okay chum.” He says gently. He looks over Dick’s trembling shoulders. Clark is leaning on Steve as they exit their own cells. A man with a metal arm stands by the door. Bruce stiffens. He’s never met this man, but he recognizes him immediately. Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Dick squirms in Bruce’s arms.
Bruce’s eyes break away from the Winter Soldier. Instead he pulls back to get a better look at Dick’s face. He wipes away a few stray tears from his son’s face. Pride swells within his chest at the sight of Dick. Before he can speak, Dick is launching himself back into a hug. Bruce returns it.
“Mr. Wayne.” Barnes says more gently than Bruce would have expected, “Can you walk?”
Bruce nods and Dick helps him to his feet. Bruce feels lightheaded and the movement makes his stomach jump into his throat, but one look at Dick’s anxious face has him smiling weakly and pushing forward. As the only adult unharmed, Barnes takes the lead. Bruce watches him. Despite Steve’s urging Bruce never had any desire to meet Barnes. He could, on an intellectual level, admit that becoming as assassin hadn’t been Barnes choice or fault, yet the instinctual distrust of someone who can kill so easily and efficiently lingers.
The five of them, plus a dog – A dog? Bruce shakes his tired aching head – march out of the dungeon. Dick clings to his side, while Steve helps Clark who still look pale in his bloodstained suit. It’s eerily silent as they walk through the building. Bruce feels tense enough to snap, wondering from which direction they will be attacked from. But nobody stops them. Once they are outside, Bruce can see why. Unconscious guards litter the ground, and Bruce has a sneaking suspicion who put them there. His eyes flicker to Barnes who steps over the guards with barely a glance.
Slowly they make their way back to the safety of Steve’s apartment. Bruce has never visited Steve’s apartment before, but right now it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. As they gather inside, Bruce opens his mouth, ready to demand a mission report. Steve looks like he’s ready to give a briefing. Barnes cuts him off.
“Bed, all of you.” He says firmly. Before anyone can argue, Bucky and Dick are acting like a well-organized team; herding Clark into Steve’s room to sleep off the aftereffects of the kryptonite bullet and Bruce into Bucky’s room to sleep off the residual fear toxin in his system. Steve is set up on the couch smothered under a massive pile of blankets before he can do anything to injure himself. Satisfied, Bucky offers Dick the reclining chair. With everyone taken care of he makes do with a spot of the rug, the dog curled into his side. It’s not ideal, but he’s slept in worse conditions. He turns out the light and listens as Steve and Dick’s breathing even out before drifting off to sleep.