Duty (An Armorer/Paladin Story)

The next morning, a response from my therapist friend was waiting. If she could be assured that Bucky's conditioning had in fact been eliminated as a safety measure, she would certainly be open to working with him. She also told me to be in touch more often than when I needed a favor. She was right about that. I also had a notice from the medical staff saying they wanted to see me, so after a hearty breakfast, I went to see them. They were in receipt of the materials related to poor Les, and they took biopsies of my skin tissue and muscles for study. That part wasn't so much fun, but I was reassured that they were also preparing to do genetic analysis to see how the DNA in the skin and muscles were being affected. It was very helpful that the reversion to impermeable skin wasn't complete and there were enough areas in varying degrees of reversion that a complete analysis should be very helpful. Stark had managed to even recover some of poor Les's tissue samples, and the comparison would be valuable.

On my way out, feeling a little disgruntled from the sample-taking, I ran into Natasha and Bruce, coming home from a run around the property. She looked quite sprightly still, but Bruce was all in. She waved when they saw me, and Bruce promptly bent over to try to get his breath back. "Fury wants to see you in his office," she said.

"I feel like I'm being sent to the principal's office," I said, only half-joking.

"What's going on with Tony and Steve?" Bruce wheezed. "You came down looking like hell, they came down later, not speaking, and Steve had a black eye."

They'd be told about it soon, so I told them about the Bucky issue. Natasha nodded when I told them that Steve had known about Bucky's assassination of Mr and Mrs Stark. "We were on the run, down in a HYDRA bunker, talking to a very weird guy who had died of cancer but had been somehow transferred to all these old-fashioned computers," she said, shuddering. "Disquieting. He was baiting Steve, talking about HYDRA assassinations, and in the images he was putting up were newspaper clippings of the Stark's deaths and a picture of Bucky. I wondered if he put it all together."

"I miss newspapers," Bruce said, still getting his wind back. I looked at him in concern, which he waved off. "I guess Steve wanted to see if you guys would kill Bucky on sight before making arrangements. What do you think?" he asked, slowly straightening up.

I thought about it. "I think, that if the conditioning was as extensive as advertised--"

"It was," Natasha interjected, and I accepted her assessment.

"Then I really can't blame him."

"I gather Tony doesn't see it the same way," Bruce observed, and I gave a half-laugh.

"No. Or rather, he might logically understand it if he wanted to, and he doesn't, but it was his parents who were killed, and Stark isn't the best at managing his emotions."

Bruce chuckled. "Bit of an understatement."

"He's not wrong to be furious about the assassination. That's something everybody can agree with. I just think it's misplaced. It's blaming the tool rather than the wielder. I think Nick is going to talk to the group once Thor shows up, or in a few days," I said. "This can't wait forever. T'Challa's coming, and I understand he wants to bring Bucky with him." I waited as Natasha and Bruce saw the implications. "So there's that to consider as well. I hope that T'Challa will talk to Tony. He and Tony and that bad guy, whatshisname--Zemo? Zeno?--all lost family because of the same root cause--superpowered people." I stop and shake my head. "Stark is at a tipping point at this moment. He could become like that guy who split the Avengers or he could become like T'Challa. I worry that he's going to choose to become like Zima."

"Zemo," Bruce said, snorting a laugh. I waved off the correction.

"Point is, I don't think it would take much to turn him to the dark side," I said seriously. "Somebody with a good grasp of the psychology, able to exploit Stark's weaknesses and anger and vulnerabilities could have him packed up really quickly."

"That's an interesting way to put it," Bruce said, sobering. "I really don't wanna have to hunt him down some time."

"I don't want to push people to pick a side, but you should know what's coming up so you can make your own decision," I said, and left, trudging up to Nick's office. Sigurd waited outside in the hall, but Torburn came inside with me. Nick raised an eyebrow, but I shrugged. "Think of him as a therapy dog," I suggested, and Torburn's big brown eyes shone as he sat down, trying to look helpful and official. Nick's mouth turned up.

"I'm going to call Rogers and Stark in for a little conference, but I wanted to talk to you first. Stark showed up last night with the records."

I nodded. "Yeah, I've already been to the clinic this morning." I was proud that I'd beaten him to the punch.

"Good," he said approvingly. "I'd like to ask you some questions about last night." He probably had cameras all over the grounds. I shrugged. "So what happened? It looks pretty odd."

I started by saying I'd watched a movie with Loki and how Steve had apologized for the incident on the roof. "Then that led to Steiger, and I told him what was going on with my skin again. We talked about how Bucky will have changed--I don't think that he's really thought about what he's been through and what it means for his personality. He's spent time with him action-packed moments, not really good conditions for getting to know him again, and I wanted to be sure he'd at least consider what the impact for their future friendship might be. Then he told me what happened in Siberia and I kind of freaked out. The Winter Guard? Five super soldiers scarier even than the Winter Soldier? That was bad enough, but to hear how Zemo had studied them, seen how to bring the team down so keenly..." I shivered. "And it could still happen."

Nick grinned. "That looked entertaining, even if it wasn't."

The door opened as he was talking, and Stark and Steve walked in. Stark took the seat on the other end and pulled it out of position. "It kind of was," Steve said, settling down into the middle chair. He gave me some bills. "Ten curse words and the one in your thoughts were deducted and put in the swear jar," he said. I choked down a laugh and put the money in my pocket. "She had some good points about working out a better communication system with countries where we operate, so maybe they can help clear out areas where we're chasing bad guys. Also a publicity campaign about how we're working with non-lethal and less destructive tools." He looked at me fast. "It's easier for a smart person to plan revenge when they don't think we care. And that we need to do something about Secretary Ross, we can't get rid of him, but maybe we could get a lobbyist" he spat the word almost "to influence people, blunt his effectiveness and influence."

"And who's going to pay for that?" Snark snapped. "I suppose you want me--"

"I'd be happy to take care of this one," I said pleasantly, raising my voice over Stark's slightly. "I don't think we want money that can be publicly tied to the Avengers in this. I have a friend from college--"

"Another one?" Steve murmured, and I reached over and smacked his arm. It was like hitting a punching bag.

"Who is a lobbyist for civil liberties," I continued. "She might be willing to work with us on this; it's no secret that Ross isn't exactly a friend of civil rights."

"I'll keep that in mind," Nick said mildly. "It's something that we need to think about."

"I'm surprised that you're willing to go along with this," Stark sniped at Steve.

"It's not oversight that's on the table, Tony," Steve explained levelly. "It's communication, which is essential on the battlefield."

"That's enough," Nick interjected before Stark could respond. "I've asked you here so we can discuss the thorny problem of the Winter Soldier."

"I don't want him here," Stark said immediately. "He's an assassin."

"So is Natasha," I said calmly.

"We don't need another one, then. He's probably unstable." I just gave him a pointed look; Barnes probably was, but he wasn't the only one around here. Stark bared his teeth.

"You don't want him here because he killed your parents," Steve said quietly.

"Would you?" Stark snapped.

"Nobody's denying it's difficult to get past that," Nick stated. "And if Barnes had acted freely, it wouldn't be an issue. But he wasn't."

"I don't care," Stark said mulishly. "He killed my mom." Steve looked down.

"He did," I agreed. "But he was used as a tool. His wasn't the mind behind it. I believe that everybody deserves a second chance. Tony, hasn't anybody given you a second chance before?" I asked gently.

"It's not the same thing!" he exploded.

"The parents of Wanda and her brother were killed by a Stark Industries weapon, spent hours looking at your name on the side of one, waiting to die. They were willing to give up their revenge and work with you," I said softly. "Everybody's made mistakes. Some are bigger than others. I'm sorry I hit you last night." I looked at Nick. "Regardless of what the Avengers decide, he's an American veteran of WWII who suffered more than most in service to his country. I don't know about how much his status with the military was straightened out, but he was experimented on when he was a POW, extensively after he was recaptured, and lost his arm when he was in the Howling Commandos, and the Army absolved him from responsibility. I'm going to help rebuild his arm and I'm going to help get him on his feet. Let me know if I need to take a leave of absence or something. Tony, I'm not going to tell you to forget what happen, but I am going to ask that you recognize what was done to that man and give him a second chance. Do it for you." Stark regarded me, eyes sparking.

"Were you sleeping with my dad?" he asked. "Is that why you got special treatment?" I was so mad at this accusation, which I'd debunked before, and his attitude--it's not like any of this was news to him, he'd had time to come to grips with it--hat I couldn't see straight. In two strides I reached him and backhanded him with all my strength. Then there was a blur as Torburn went for him but I managed to pull him off before he'd done more than drool on Stark as he bayed for his blood.

"You don't have to believe me when I tell you that I'd never sleep with a married man, but you insult your dad by thinking he'd have screwed around on your mom," I said furiously, hanging onto Torburn's harness with difficulty. Yuck. It would have been gross. "Get a fucking grip."

"I don't think a disembowelment is effective therapy," Nick observed as I wrestled Torburn toward the door. I shot him a withering glare and I shoved the door closed with my foot. I heard Nick yelling at Stark, but I had my own problems, Sigurd was mad too, growling with a nasty edge. Thank heaven it had been Torburn in there and not Sigurd; I couldn't have pulled him off Stark.

With difficulty, I urged both dogs into the elevator and sagged against the wall; I just wasn't up to herding them down the stairs. We went outside and I collapsed on the grass, staring at the clouds in the sky; it looked like we might get some rain. After I calmed down some, I found a stick and threw it for the pups; soon they were back to their usual sunny moods. Sigurd was allowing Torburn to tow him around a little in his quest to gain possession of the stick and I was laughing when the Bifrost light shot down to the usual spot. Torburn trotted over, proudly in possession of the stick, followed by his tolerant father, and together we went over to greet Thor and Sif.

Thor greeted me like normal, which was a relief as it meant he wasn't too mad at me. "Sif will be dividing her time between here and Asgard," he said, and I smiled at her.

"Congratulations on your marriage," I said. Thor smiled and turned away to greet the dogs. "Nick had Thor's things moved to a bigger suite, Lady Sif," I said. "It hasn't really been decorated; we've got a decorator to work with if you'd like to change things to suit yourself." She seemed nervous, and I couldn't really blame her. She'd had some big changes lately and was now living on a strange planet away from everyone and everything she'd known. "I'm sure that Thor will show you around, but if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me, or anybody, actually." I turned toward the residence block and we walked over slowly, making conversation as I showed them to their suite, Thor trailing along with their luggage. It was the biggest one we had. "We've got a party planned for you, we just weren't sure when you'd arrive," I let them know, smiling. The dogs nuzzled up to Sif, who was happy to provide ear skritches. "Thor, there's a bit of an uproar around here, you might want to check in with Nick. "

"Oh?" Thor asked, frowning at me.

"Yeah, it's kind of a mess." I couldn't keep from rubbing my forehead.

"Are you unwell?" he asked.

"I'm fine, it's just a headache. Stark was being unacceptable, I smacked him and had to pull Torburn off him."

"Much has happened," Thor said meditatively. He ended up going off and I showed Sif around the campus instead. We encountered Sam at one point on his way to the gym, then Scott, then Natasha, who took over as tour guide. We ended up in the cafeteria for a late lunch, and by the time that we returned her to her suite, she seemed more relaxed and happier. Natasha proposed the party for the next day, and Sif seemed pleased at the effort. Natasha left to put the plans into motion, and the dogs and I went downstairs. As I walked over to the sofa, Sigurd woofed, and I looked over to see him standing by the overturned trashcan. He woofed again and pushed something toward me. I came over, righted the trashcan and threw a few pieces of paper in it, then looked at what he had under his paw. It was my Acolyte's ring. He'd fished it out for me. I knelt down and hugged him, his fur soft under my chin. His nose was wet as he nuzzled me. I sniffed, then got up to put the ring away.

Then I turned on the computer and Googled how to to negotiate, and how to work with someone who is too stubborn to leave an entrenched position. I sighed as I read. We were in for a long, difficult haul.