The Backup

"I didn't kill your father," Bucky choked out, voice strained from the hand around his throat. He and the king had each other in a vice. Their eyes were locked, but Bucky couldn't gouge anything because the vibranium helmet covered the other man's face.

T'Challa growled, "Then why did you run?" He pulled Bucky's hand from his throat, and kicked him backward into a pile of crates. Dazed, he saw a blurry Black Panther lunge forward, shiny claws on his fingertips--red wound around his hand, and Wanda threw him into the gangway.

Bucky jumped up, running toward where Natalia was regaining her composure after Wanda had thrown her away from Clint. He tackled her around the waist, twisting his body so he landed on his back--his shoulders taking the brunt of the force. He swung around onto his knees and pinned her down to the concrete. "Natalia."

She swallowed, not backing down. She glared up at him. "James."

He cocked his head. "You remember me."

"Of course I do." She kneed him hard in his liver. He rolled off, pressing his hand to where he knew it would bruise, if only for a few hours at most, and pushed himself to his feet. She flicked her hair away from her face as she stood up, pulling her black batons from their holders.

"Make it look real?" he smirked.

She nodded, shortly, before launching herself at him. Though it was so long ago, their movements were not forgotten--fighting was what they knew better than anything, and she had learned how to from him. He taught her almost everything she knew.

She pushed the end of her baton toward his elbow, and he caught it in his metal hand and pulled her along for the ride. Now closer to him, she asked in a low voice, "What do you need?"

"They told us our baby was dead. It was never true. He was put in my care when he was ten, and I have been raising him since. His name is Peter."

She suddenly looked sick, her green eyes widening and her mouth hanging open. She touched her hand to her stomach, beginning to shake her head. Her body then snapped, and she kicked him toward storage trucks behind them muttering, "I know. He talked to me, on the highway. He tried to steal from the tower, but he wouldn't let us help him." She tried to kick him in the stomach again, but he caught her by the calf. She curled her leg around his waist, swinging herself around him. She was suddenly on his shoulders, ankles locked over his chest, hands in his hair. She used the momentum to tug him away from the eyes of others, until their backs were against one of the storage trucks.

He bucked her off, keeping a hand on her leg so she wouldn't go flying. Once she came off his shoulders, he curled his arm around her back and guided her down. "When I left Hydra, I had no choice but to leave him there--and I tell you, I'll regret that every day for the rest of my goddamn life. Hydra still stands and he is working for them. I got his mission report. He said he found his way in. And right now he's right out there, trying to impress Stark."

He saw her body clamp down on its urges--she wanted to turn and run to the boy in the blue and red. "James, why--?"

"I don't know. But we have to figure it out. I can't stay with him right now. That kills me, but it's true. I need someone to have his back. Someone he can trust."

"If you tell me what's going on with the psychiatrist, I'll get you and Steve out of here."

"He wants to wake up the other Winter Soldiers."

She blanched. "Why would he -" Realization covered her face, and she turned toward her friends, where there were small explosions and yelling and fighting. She slowly came back to face him, determination setting her face back to marble. "We can't let them wake up."

He couldn't help the small smile that ghosted over his lips. Know that he remembered her, he missed her more than he ever had before - her laughter, her love, her allegiance, her sense humanity. He missed being able to hold her in his arms, pressing soft kisses to her even softer skin.

He just missed being with her, even if it meant running missions with blood on their hands and death in their mouths.

One of the trucks was blown away, and Bucky grabbed onto her - wrapped his arms around her torso and threw them both to the side. They settled when he was on his back and her thighs framed his hips. Her batons were out again and she wacked him across the face - so the Avengers would get the impression that they weren't ass friendly as they looked to be, or as she should be - and got up to her feet, leaving him behind.

Bucky rolled to the side, only getting up once he was behind another white mechanism he never planned to get to know the name of. As he was looking through the gap at the still-fighting Avengers - eyes tracking Peter, swinging and flipping around - Steve came to an unsteady halt beside him.

"We have to go. The guy's probably in Siberia right now," he told Steve, speaking under his breath.

"I thought you wanted your kid?"

He pressed his lips together briefly, looking away from where he had been watching him. "We can't allow the other Winter Soldiers to wake up."

"We gotta draw out the flyers," Steve noted. He stood straight again, pushing himself away from the truck. He glanced up, tightening the leather straps of his shield. "I'll take Vision. You get to the jet."

"No, you get to the jet!" Sam exclaimed over the comms, voice tinny andcrackly over the line. "Both of you!" He then admitted, resigned, "The rest of us aren't getting out of here."

"As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it," Clint added.

"This isn't the real fight, Steve." The unspoken reference to Serbia settled, heavy in their bones.

Steve nodded after a few moments, knowing he wouldn't be able to argue with them - because they were right. "Alright, Sam. What's the play?"

"We need a diversion. Something big."

"I got something kind of big," Scott said, "but I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half...don't come back for me.

Bucky muttered, looking at Steve, "He's gonna tear himself in half?

His friend gave him an equally confused look, but he spoke like it was business as usual. "You're sure about this, Scott?"

He waved off their concern with a light, "I do it all the time. I mean, once...in a lab. Then I passed out." He inhaled deeply, and whispered to himself, "I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'M THE BOSS!"

They both spun around when they heard a louder disturbance, stumbling back when they saw Scott as tall as a plane was long.

Steve said, dryly, "I guess that's the signal." He then grabbed onto Bucky--who was stuck in absolute wonder--and dragged him into a run, immediately letting him go as soon as Bucky got the memo. They sprinted toward the hanger the quinjet was in. Bucky kept pushing himself to go on, knowing the second he slowed down he wouldn't be able to keep himself from turning around and returning to Peter's side.

A yellow blast came from somewhere behind them. The tower beside the hanger opening was cut apart, crumbling under the force. It fell to the side, over the opening of the hangar. The two super soldiers sped up. As they came closer, a blanket of red appeared underneath the incoming wreckage, wrapping it and holding it up. They had just made it to the hangar when the red disappeared and the wreckage fell around them. Bucky raised his arms to protect his head and rolled, so he was low on the ground, and came out the other side with Steve beside him, where the girl with hair of fire awaited them.

Bucky locked eyes with Natalia. She gave him a little shrug. "I told you I'd help," she said, almost meekly. She raised her arm and fired one of the electric bullets from her wrist. Bucky followed it with his eyes, turning to see it hit the Wakandan king as he was crawling out from under the debris. Electricity crackled through him, and he fell, convulsing, to the floor.

"Now go, before more of them come in." She looked down at the unconscious king. Steve immediately raced into the jet - the belly open and lowered for entry. But Bucky hung behind a little, pacing up to the girl he knew better than only one other thing.

"Thank you." He kissed her cheek - pausing briefly to run his nose over her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into him. Hands itching to hold her--she was so close, her hair smelled like wild berries--he whispered, "Make sure he's safe. Please." and ran past her, following Steve into the quinjet. He kept his neck tight and shoulders pushed up, so he wouldn't look back.

Steve looked over his shoulder when Bucky ran into the jet. When he turned back to the controls, he said, "Talk to me, Buck."

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the metal wall. Remembering everything he used to tell his son, he said, his voice low, "I was supposed to keep him from the storm." But that wasn't the only thing wrong.

||||||||||

Peter slid over the flat top of a plane, shooting his webs at the airport to get away from the large hands swiping at him. He still couldn't believe that this is what Mr. Stark brought him here for. He had always wanted to meet the Avengers, and though this wasn't exactly the definition of a meet-and-greet, saying that he had fought Captain America and Scarlet Witch was pretty cool, too. "Hey, guys, you ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?"

War Machine exclaimed over the communication system, "Jesus, Tony, how old is this guy?"

"I don't know, I didn't carbon-date him. He's on the young side."

Peter hit the ground running, and shot a web at the wing of a plane sitting way overhead. He pulled on the strand, which propelled him up. He shot more webs at Supersized Ant-Man's chest. "You know that part...where they're on the snow planet..." he wrapped his webbing around the man's legs, "with the walking thingies?"

"Maybe the kid's on to something," Mr. Stark said.

War Machine was quick to react. "High now, Tony. Go high."

Before he knew it, a metallic clang rang through the airport, and Ant-Man Supreme began to fall back, overcome by his center of gravity.  Swinging away, excited that his plan had worked, Peter exclaimed, "YES!" An accomplished laugh bubbled from his throat. "That was awesome!"

A gigantic hand hit him, hard enough to snap his web and send him flying. He crashed through boxes before tumbling onto the concrete ground. His muscles went tight because everything in him told him not to move, or else he'd hurt even worse. He felt like he had when he first jumped off a building and hadn't yet learned how to maneuver the city, so he slammed into the building and had to climb down. He felt like he had when he came out of the machine his dad had told him to always avoid--

What?

"Kid, you alright?"

Swept up in his anxiety, mask halfway off, he fought back before the person could touch him. "Hey! Get off me!" I can't go back to the chair. No, no, get off me!

"Same side. Guess who." His mask was pulled up higher, freeing one of his eyes. Mr. Stark crouched over him, and a sense of relief washed through Peter. "Hi. It's me."

He sighed, letting his definitely-bruised ribs relax. "Oh. Hey, man."

"Yeah.

"That was scary," he confessed.

Mr. Stark didn't understand him. "Yeah. You're done. Alright?"

Why am I done? I'm never done. "What?"

"You did a good job. Stay down."

He had to get up. This was weakness, and he knew very well what happened when he showed weakness. "No, I'm good. I'm fine."

"Stay down."

"No, it's good I gotta get him back!" He then thought, Who?

Mr. Stark looked equally confused. He said, voice hard and unforgiving, "You're going home or I'll call Aunt May! You're done!" He burst off the pavement, flying away.

He started to get up. "Wait. Mr. Stark, wait! I'm not done, I'm not..." he looked up when he heard a plane overhead, to see a quinjet flying higher and higher, but still low to the ground. Raising his wrists, he promised, "I'm not done yet."