And then it gets worse
We didn't hear from Thor for awhile, but given the nature of his injury and his dad, we didn't really expect to. I was distracted; it had been a blow to find out that the mutation I liked the least was making a comeback. Even with my best alloy for knife-making, it did require a decent amount of pressure to cut the skin, so I abandoned the notion of making scalpel blades for regular holders; they popped right out. I made complete instruments, the blade and handle as one integrated piece. Once I got the design right, I spent a week focused on making enough for all my locations--my workshop, the facility medical unit, a couple for each quinjet, and I made a few for the Asgardian healers, just in case. Doesn't hurt to be thorough. When I'd finally come to terms with it, I went to the clinic with my blades and explained the situation. Then I found Nick in his office and told him what I'd found out. He was less concerned about the diagnosis as about how I was handling it, but when I said I was ok, he accepted my word. I told him about the scalpels, just to be on the safe side in case there was an emergency.
T'Challa was coming for a visit--he and Steve Skyped a lot. Sam teased him about the bromance, but Steve was uncharacteristically grim.
One day, one of Odin's ravens was waiting for me when I got to my workshop. I took the note he had for me, thanked him, and he cawed once and flapped off. The paper was thick and soft, a pleasure to handle, and sealed with gold-flecked wax, an anachronistic touch I liked. I read the message from Thor once, blinked, read it again, and went to find Nick.
"Thor's preparing his return," I said when I got to his office. Nick looked at me attentively. "He needs a bigger suite. There's the end unit on the second floor that would be good."
"Suppose you tell me what's going on," he requested politely.
"Thor's coming back. With company." I passed him the note. He looked from the note to me and I shrugged.
"It came by Raven Express," I said. "You know what I know." We looked at each other across the expanse of his desk. He nodded, and called maintenance to move Thor's belongings to the new suite.
"You think we should call in a decorator?" Nick asked
"I wouldn't think so, changes should be left to the occupants," I said, and went back to work.
It was as if the letter made the whole day weird. Nothing I did worked right, I didn't like what they served for dinner, and everybody was out of sorts in the play room. Nobody could agree on the planning for the swear jar party. I sat back and listened when Nick came in to break the news to the group.
"Wait. Thor's getting married?" Sam asked. "That's....news."
"Should already be married, according to the message," Nick said. "When they show up, I expect you to be welcoming and friendly to the Lady Sif. It will probably feel awkward for her to relocate, and she won't have any friends." The group murmured, discussing the event.
"So I guess the swear jar party should be a reception," Scott said practically, and he and Natasha and Wanda--who was feeling much better--put their heads together. Vision listened, curious, and Bruce came over.
"Did you know about this?" he asked.
"One of Odin's ravens delivered the message this morning," I said. "I was kind of surprised, tell the truth, but it wasn't completely unexpected." I told him about my mediation attempts, and he laughed, amused.
"Remind me never to agree to a compromise you broker," he said. I shrugged. Thor could have said no to his dad. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve leave for the roof deck, followed by Tony. A couple months ago, we put some decorative plants up there, a table and chairs on the grass covering, and a railing around the perimeter; plans to put a grilling area were in the offing. For some reason, Tony wanted a croquet set too. I wasn't spending much time there; it was summer, and I don't like the heat much anymore.
"I wonder if I should tell Loki or let his brother do it," I said, and Bruce and I discussed. We heard a thud above us.
"Sounds like they're fighting," Bruce observed, not moving. "You should go up and break it up."
"Why me?"
"They listen to you."
"They listen to you too."
"When I'm green." Which was not really the point, but I could tell he was feeling immovable. I sighed, feeling like the world's biggest busybody, and dragged myself up the stairs.
I sighed again when I stepped out on the grass. Tony had Steve down and his arm ready to punch.
"Hey!" I barked. They looked at me, Steve had one black eye already and Tony was enraged. I took an inadvertent step back. I've seen him mad, defensive, sarcastic, peeved, petulant, but never like this.
"Go ahead, tell her," Tony snarled at him, releasing him, getting up and stomping over to the railing. Steve sat up.
"T'Challa is coming for a visit," Steve said, touching his eye and wincing. I nodded. "He wants to bring Bucky."
"What? Why is he in Wakanda?"
"He's been in cryo since Germany," Steve said. "But T'Challa says they've fixed him. The Wakandans contacted the military--since Bucky was on one of our missions when he fell, he's still under their authority--and they had a court martial."
"What's there to fix? What happened in the court martial? Why hasn't it been bigger news?"
"Well, his arm," Steve hedged. "His bionic arm was ripped off." I winced. "And he was conditioned." He explains how Red Skull's toady scientist Zola had treated Bucky with the Super Soldier serum before his rescue, his fall from a train in the mountains, his recovery and brainwashing and his eventual career as a super assassin, the code words that triggered him. "The court martial heard all the evidence, read Bucky's service record, the notes that SHIELD was able to retrieve from HYDRA on their Super Soldier program, heard from the Wakandan scientists that treated Bucky. They determined that his actions hadn't been his fault, and cleared him of all charges of treason. They did for him what they did for me, updated his service record, gave him an honorable discharge from the Army. With back pay, but that will take time to get straightened out. It just ended. I went over with Natasha--" I nodded; a couple weeks ago, they'd taken some personal leave "and gave testimony. The court martial just concluded, and he's being permitted to return to the States. There'll be a press release soon."
"What kind of conditioning?" I asked, puzzled, and Steve explained how he was defrosted, activated, sent on a mission, and refrozen over decades. Mind wiped whenever his conditioning started to break down, which was frequent. I winced. What a sucky life. T'Challa's people have, they believe, done the work that removed his conditioning and provided some intensive therapy.
"Well, if you want, I can help with the work on his arm," I offered. "And we've got room in the residence for more people, that's for sure."
"Tell her!" Tony hissed.
"Well, remember he was an assassin. He was given his jobs, he's always been an ace shot, he was a sniper on the Commandos, his conditioning didn't permit him to resist and he couldn't turn down a job. Whenever he tried to say no, he was abused." He swallowed. "He--one of his jobs. One of his jobs was to retrieve a batch of trial Super Soldier serum and kill the couriers."
"Super Sol--wait. That program was disbanded in the 80's. Too many failures, death and disability. Where did they come up with serum? The research said the serum was unstable as hell. When was this mission?"
"It was newly created at the time," Tony whispered. "The work had continued past when the military officially ended the program, just secretly." I looked from one man to the other, getting a bad feeling about this.
Steve visibly steeled himself. "The courier was Howard Stark. Bucky killed him and his wife and took the serum."
My legs folded and I sat down on the grass fast. "Mr Stark?" I whispered. I whipped a disbelieving glance over to Tony, but his face was set in bitter lines, fury still in his eyes. I felt tears prickle. "He killed Mr Stark?"