Chapter 11
They had been stranded, shipwrecked on the island, for nearly a month when Steve reached breaking point.
“Tony, you look awful!” Steve gasped, earning himself a scowl as Tony rolled over to glare at him from where he had been sleeping.
“You should see yourself,” he sniffed.
“No, Tony, you look ill. Do you feel well?” He asked, concern flaring bright in his eyes as he brought the back of his hand to Tony’s forehead. Which Tony allowed, but only because he was so exhausted.
“I feel fine, Steve,” he sighed, curling his fingers around his wrist. “Honestly, I’m just tired.” He smiled reassuringly, but knew by the way Steve’s brow furrowed that he had failed. He groaned. Great- you get stranded on an island with a man that hates you, and a man that loves you, and before you knew it the man that loved you hates you, and the man that hates you gets all… concerned and nice.
Steve pursed his lips, but allowed Tony’s excuse. “Come, up you get.” He offered a hand, and helped pull Tony to his feet. “I think it’s high time we all talked.” His tone, as authoritative and firm as Tony imagined a Naval captain’s to be, left no room for argument, and Tony sighed, allowing himself to be pulled by his hand to James, resigning himself to his fate.
Hopefully James wouldn’t kill him.
“Buck, come on, I know you’re awake,” Steve sighed deeply, prodding the ‘sleeping’ man with his foot. “Bucky.”
The little shit, Tony thought affectionately.
“Piss off, Stevie. I don’t want to talk about my feelings,’ he scoffed. “Kiss me, or scram.”
Steve rolled his eyes, shooting Tony an apologetic look before bending over and pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead. “Come on. I’ve had enough of you two; I tried to get you to talk to him about how you feel, to explain it, give him a chance to explain himself, but you didn’t so now I’m making you. So get up.”
Tony stood there awkwardly, twisting the James’ bracelet he still wore. He should probably give it back, but even the thought of it send a pang of loss so great through him it made his knees buckle. He truly would lose James if he let go of that promise.
But… looking at Steve, his gentle smiles, how happy he seemed, basking in James’ love, looking at James, the way his eyes softened when he looked at Steve, the way he was constantly touching him… maybe it was time.
Maybe it was time to let him go.
He was pulled from his melancholy thoughts (and weren’t they always melancholy these days) by Steve nudging him. “Tony,” he urged. “I think it’s time to tell James the whole story, don’t you? From the start. This time,” he shot a glare to James, and it made Tony’s lips twitch and heart ache at the ease of it, the familiarity between them, “Bucky will listen.”
Tony heaved a jagged breath, clutching the bracelet tightly as he sat by James’ feet, Steve’s hand on his shoulder a comforting weight. It gave him strength, reminded him of why he had to let go.
It’s time.
So.
The beginning it was.
“Once, there was a boy.” Tony’s voice shook, almost as much as his hands, but he balled them into fists and soldiered on. “He was young, barely fresh into his seventeenth year when his parents passed. They were murdered, and the boy thought he had died with them. The grief… it broke him, made him reckless, careless… he made many, many mistakes, but the one he regrets the most- well, not quite the most,” he admitted, glancing to James’ stump, swallowing through the lump in his throat, “Was letting his uncle take control of his father’s business.” He glanced to Steve. “The weapons business. He trusted his uncle, trusted him enough that he didn’t see his betrayal until it was far, far too late, until he was thrown into a slave factory, sold by the very man who had helped raise him.” He shuddered at the memory, forcing down the anger it still engendered. He would never be truly over that. It was the greatest, most cutting betrayal he had experienced, and it left him bitter and angry, even now.
He recognised the understanding in Steve’s eyes, the regret. It was okay, because he didn’t know- no one did, and that was the problem. Nobody knew how Tony had been exploited, how every innocent murdered by the weapons he and his father had made, sold to the enemy by Stane was pinned to him.
“His father was famous, himself more so, and so his owners decided to enjoy him, rather than traffic him to the Slave Continent. They beat him, whipped him. Humiliated him; stripped him bare until he was close to breaking.
“But… there was another slave they kept him with. A boy, just like himself, and he befriended him. It kept him sane, kept him fighting. It was his friend- the first real friend he’d ever had, really- that helped him escape. Together, they burned the place down, vowing to put an end to slavery, to the trafficking rings that forced people to suffer as they had. So, they ran, gathered a crew and a ship, and hunted for any ship bound with slaves to the Continent.”
“The first one they found… there was a slave being whipped, starving and bleeding, he was dying. It made the boy, now a Pirate captain, furious beyond belief. Before he knew it he had killed every member of the crew; the Captain, who ordered them to be punished, the cook, who fed them the bare amount to keep them alive, the doctor who refused to treat the wounds on their ankles from their shackles. He killed them all, and it felt right, like he was finally doing something right with his life. All his life, he had wanted to help people, and that desire had often been manipulated by those he trusted, twisted into something that resulted in people dying. But here he was, finally helping.
“He took them to a land, a Haven, free of any white man, and helped them build a life there. And then, he set off to save more. He spent years liberating as many as he could, until one day, one day God must have smiled down upon him because he met one slave, as humiliated and hurting as he had been, who still had so much fire in him, refused to break. He stole the Pirate’s heart, wormed his way into his crew, until the Pirate knew that he would do anything for his slave." He dared a glance at Steve and James, and saw the recognition, the realisation.
"His slave stayed with him, told him of his own captain, the man who had led him through battles during his time in the navy before he was captured. He fell in love with his pirate, and they promised to love each other for an eternity; forever." He fingered the bracelet, swallowing. The lump in his throat refused to dissolve, threatened to choke him.
"His slave loved this captain, as well as his pirate, but the pirate was okay with that. He knew his slave loved him, had a heart big enough to love him and his captain, so he allowed the captain aboard his ship.
"But then... things started to go wrong. The happiness and joy he had, the love he had, was spoiled, ruined when they boarded the Ultron, another slave trader. They were caught unawares, stranded on an island where they suffered. His slave, his beautiful, kind slave was injured; with no memory and a broken arm that was swiftly turning septic, the pirate had no choice but to do what he knew he would always regret.
“He took his slave’s arm.”
He couldn’t help the heartbroken sob that spilled past his lips, nor the accompanying tears. “He took his arm, and with it his future, and all hope for ever having a future with his slave.” He clenched his jaw, glaring at his hands that he furled into knuckles. “He would have died,” he sobbed, meeting James’ steely gaze. “You would have died, I was damned no matter what I did.”
“I couldn’t lose you.”
Bucky listened to Stark’s story, their story. He didn’t remember any of it, falling in love, swearing an eternity to each other. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, felt like he had been robbed.
He would never get that back, that time that had been so cruelly taken.
“You should have let me die,” he muttered darkly, swallowing down the grief, the anger. “You shouldn’t have done that to me.” He licked his lips, looking to Steve for the silent support he always gave so freely. “You had no right. Telling me your sob story? Doesn’t change the fact that you took everything from me. Everything.” He was snarling, a quiet, stone-cold flame of fury licking at his words, hardening it into something cut of diamond. “I’ll never be able to look at your face and not be reminded of what I’ve become,” he admitted, anger draining away to something tired and weary.
“I’m sorry,” Stark offered, equally as weary. “It changes nothing, but I have never meant an apology more than I do now. If there was a way for things to have been different? I would have done it, I would demand God send me back to change it, I swear to you. I never wanted this, James. Never.”
“Now, look,” Steve interrupted, holding a hand up in a stop right there gesture. “I dragged you both here to sort this out, not agree never to see each other again,” he protested, sounding horrified. “You- I- you just can’t!”
Bucky shrugged. “Seems to me like we can.”
Stark nodded, shoulders slumping. He suddenly looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but Bucky shoved down the pity and sympathy the sight invoked. No, he told himself firmly, don’t. It’s not worth it, He’s not worth it.
“Some things cannot be fixed,” he agreed reluctantly. “No matter the heart’s desire.”
Steve set his jaw, determined. “No, no, I won’t accept that, I can’t.” He turned his sharp gaze to Bucky, disappointment softening them and making something heavy settle within Bucky’s gut. Damnit, Steve. “Look, Bucky, surely you would have done the same for me? I know you still do not yet remember all, but you know enough to be sure. You would do the same- would remove my arm if it saved my life, would you not?”
It wasn’t a question- he knew. He knew, because he knew Bucky better than Bucky knew himself.
And he was right. He would do it a thousand times, no matter the consequences if it meant saving his life.
Hell’s gates, he would sever his own arm for the man.
He sighed, deflating. “That’s different,” he tried, and he knew, even without the sharp, knowing look Steve sent him that it was a weak argument, because it wasn’t.
Stark… well, it appeared that he loved him enough to do the same.
He glanced to the man, flexing his hand, fighting to breathe against the sudden and overwhelming emotion that slammed into him like a cannonball, leaving him struggling to breathe.
The realisation made him uneasy, made regret and guilt crawl up his throat until he nearly choked on it. He knew, deep down, that he shouldn’t be angry, but everything in him was hurting, was scared, and it was easier to blame Stark, hate him, the stranger who had caused it all, rather than admit that it was what had to be done. He would have been a dead man no matter what happened, Stark or no Stark.
His silence spoke more than any words he could say ever would, in that moment.
Before anything could be done, before anything could be processed, Stark stood, frowning, motioning them to be silent.
Bucky frowned, saw his confusion mirrored in Steve, who opened his mouth, as if to query why their silence was warranted, when Stark’s eyes widened, something cautious and hopeful lighting within them.
“Rhodey?”
It was typical, really. Just as they were making progress, as it looked like James might be starting on the path to forgiving Tony (or at least reconciling with him) they were distracted.
Saved.
The island had felt like purgatory to Tony. The place where he was to be punished for every crime, every sin he had committed in his short and miserable life.
Maybe this meant he had finally died.
Maybe it was finally time for this Hell to be over.
He almost scoffed at the thought. As if he deserved anything else. He frowned, listening, sure he could hear something that sounded suspiciously like footfall in the distance.
Had they truly been found? He frowned, listening intently, motioning for his companions’ silence, eyes widening as he heard a voice he would never not be able to recognise.
Rhodey. Could it truly be him?
"Tones? Tones!"
That… that was Rhodey!
"Rhodey? Is that you?"
“Tony! Tony you bastard!”
Tony laughed, a wet, joyous sound, practically sprinting as swift as he could to the sound of his friend’s voice. Of course he came- of course. “Rhodey.”
He ran into the man’s arms, pulling his close, burying his nose into his neck.”Oh, God, Platypus you found us.” He beamed, lashes clumped with tears. “You came.”
Rhodey patted his back, grinning back. “You bet your ass I did,” he sniffed. “As if you could get rid of me that easily.” His grin widened, toothy and looking so genuinely pleased to see Tony that he feared he might start sobbing again.
God, it felt like all he did was cry, and he was so tired of it.
He offered a small smile. “I am relieved to see you, old friend,” he sighed, burying his head in his oldest and best friend’s chest. “You sure took your time.”
Rhodey laughed, running a hand through Tony’s hair. “Well, most of the crew managed to make their way to The Vendicatore and we got the Hell out of there.” He swallowed, voice catching. “I didn’t know if you were even alive, Tones,” he admitted. “She was lamed in the explosion,” he winced apologetically, “We limped to the nearest mainland and fixed her up as swift as we could, and I came straight back to look for you. I hoped, I prayed that you had washed up somewhere, and when I saw wreckage from the Ultron… I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved.” He ruffled Tony’s hair to hide from the emotion so thick in his voice. “Had me scared witless.”
Tony managed a laugh. “I missed you too.” He swallowed, gripping Rhodey tighter. “I… I didn’t know if we were the only survivors.”
“We?”
Rhodey’s headshot up, creased in a frown, just in time to see Steve and James appear, stepping cautiously over the twigs and plants decorating the ‘forest’ floor. “Rhodes!” Steve greeted, looking relieved. “Lord, am I glad to see you. Tony just bolted before he told us what he’d heard- had us scared.”
Rhodey’s frown deepened, keen gaze flitting between Steve and James, who was standing against Steve’s side, looking panicked and overwhelmed. “Tony?” He muttered to himself, glancing down at the man in his arms. “Did I miss something? Last time I saw you two you were at each other’s throats like dogs, not using each other’s Christian names.” He sounded disapproving, so Tony shrugged, hoping to reassure him.
“A lot’s happened,” he conceded. “I… Let’s just get off this infernal island, shall we? I assume you brought the cavalry,” he grinned, forcing his voice to resemble something teasing and playful. “But you know you’ll always be my shining Knight.”
It worked; Rhodey smiled, amusement flickering in his eyes to replace the wariness that Steve brought “Indeed. Though I fear ‘tis beginning to get old,” he said, voice filled with the dry amusement only Rhodey could exude so well. “Come. Let;s get you and your boy, and his boy, home. You can tell me everything later,” he allowed.
Tony nodded, relief making him sag into Rhodey’s form. “Yes. Let’s.”
Bucky was confused, scared, and annoyed. One minute he was talking to Stark, listening to him and begrudgingly acknowledging to himself that maybe he shouldn’t be so hateful and spiteful to the man, but then, but then, the man had just up and left! Bolted like a skittish rabbit, and now, the sight of him in another man’s arms- a stranger’s arms- made him feel all sorts of confusing things.
What?
Scowling, he watched them talk, not really listening, too consumed with the emotions battling within him.
Who was this man? Why should they trust him? Obviously Stark did, and that rankled something within him. In the presence of the stranger, Stark seemed happier, like he wasn’t weighed down as much by guilt and hate- Bucky’s hate- and he looked so young, so exhausted.
You can’t exactly blame him for not being happy when you’ve been behaving as such, the voice that sounded like Steve murmured in his head, sounding disapproving.
He scowled harder.
“Who in God’s name is that?” He hissed at Steve.
Steve glanced at him, looking guilty and apologetic. “Sorry, Buck. I should have introduced you properly- that’s Rhodes, Tony’s first mate. His best friend. I think-” he hesitated, watching the men interact, “I think he is the slave that escaped with Tony.”
Oh.
Of course Tony trusted him, then, was so at ease around him. They had literally saved each other’s lives, probably more than once.
Some part of him, in the dark, forgotten corners of his mind, didn’t like it. Didn’t like that his star was so affectionate with this Rhodey, longed for his familiar touch that made it feel safe and warm.
What?
What the Hell? His star? What the Hell was that about?
“Come on them, posh boys. Time to go home.”
Rhodey’s voice pulled him from his mind, from the befuddlement and shock that he was swimming in. His eyes jerked to the man, and he offered a single nod. If Steve trusted him, if he was so close to Stark… then he would have to trust him, too. Would have to follow Steve back onto that ship, the ship that had ruined his life.
He steeled himself with a deep breath and followed, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, twigs and dried leaves crunching under his leather boots.
My name is Bucky and I would follow Stevie to the ends of the world, he chanted in his head, feeling the truth of it deep within his bones. He was Bucky Barnes and he would die for Steve. He didn’t remember much from Before, not yet, but of that he was certain. He drew his strength from it, remembered when he would follow Steve into battle, the times when he would follow Steve down a dark alley, ending and winning his fights for him.
In comparison to that, walking with him onto the beautiful, deadly ship was nothing.
“James! It’s good to see you, man!” A sandy-haired man greeted him, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like you finally got those two to sort everything out between then,” he teased. “Glad it only took getting stranded on an island together to do it.”
Bucky blinked at the man, feeling a pungent sense of deja vu. “I- what? Sorry, do I know you?”
The man froze, his smile slipping from his face as his gaze searched Bucky up and down, concern writ across his face. “James?” His eyes snagged on his left stump, and Bucky turned his body, feeling uncomfortable. “James, it’s me. Hawk.”
“Shit,” came the curse, Stark padding over to them, breaking away from where a curly-haired man had been prodding him, watched over by Rhodes. “Hawk, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you- James hit his head when the Ultron went up. Hard. He can’t recall much, especially not any of us.”
Hawk’s face closed off, only his pained eyes letting Bucky know how saddened he was by the news. “Ah. I see.” He turned to Stark, who was stood beside him. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Stark sighed, rubbing his eyes. “A lot,” he admitted wryly. “Come, I’ll fill you in. Are you well? I didn’t know if you all made it.”
Hawk offered him a sympathetic smile, gently leading him away. “I’m fine. We’re all fine, Tones. Just wanna make sure you are.”
Bucky saw Stark offer a shaky smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. “I’m grand,” he promised. “Just grand, don’t you worry about me.” He looked over his shoulder to Bucky. “James, Steve will take you to his quarters. Bruce will look you over, and then you can get some sleep. We shall discuss what you want to do later.”
Bucky scowled at him for the sake of it, not really feeling it. “Whatever,” he waved dismissively.
The sooner he and Steve could get back home the better.
This ship was not home, no matter what they said.
He didn’t know any of these people, and he certainly didn’t give a damn about them.
(Didn’t he?)
“Tell me everything.”