heavy hanging
three || heavy hanging
When Steve stepped into the elevator, he was so riled up that he almost didn't notice James Rhodes sitting in the corner, planted in a wheelchair with eyes that only grew calculating yet thoughtful as soon as he realized just who had joined him.
"Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes," Steve acknowledged with a nod of his head. Although he couldn't fathom why Rhodes had supported Stark, friends or not, he knew that most of the time the darker-skinned man tried to keep the guy in check. Also, Rhodes had been in the military once, just like Steve, so they shared something in common. Maybe he, at least, would understand Steve's perspective - about how he had had to fight for his friend, how it was deeply rooted in him the saying "no man left behind" - and so it was just impossible to have left Bucky up for dead.
"Rogers," the other man said calmly, leaning back in his chair as the elevator began to smoothly move upwards toward the second floor. "Since you're here, I'd like to talk to you about something, actually."
Steve exhaled in relief. "Of course," he replied, facing Rhodes.
"FRIDAY, halt," the colonel said, waving his hand in the air for the doors to stay closed. "I'd like to talk to the private."
"Captain," Steve supplied without even thinking about it. He'd become so accustomed to his title that his true position in the military had escaped him.
Rhodes shook his head. "Don't push it, Rogers. A nickname borne from propaganda is still just propaganda. And frankly, you're not even a private now that I think about it. You never finished your training. Anyway - I want to talk about Tony."
The supersoldier exhaled again, but this time in annoyance. Everything came down to Stark in the end, didn't it? What was so special about the billionaire that everything had to be about him? "There's nothing to talk about," he said firmly. "I've already accepted the...unfortunate circumstances that Stark seems to favor."
"No, there's definitely something to talk about." The darker-skinned man's voice was icy as he turned his wheelchair to face Steve. It had definitely been handcrafted by Tony himself, based on all of the fancy little gadgets and automatic movement of the wheels. "Firstly, I want to make it clear that I understand why you tried to save Barnes."
"Thank you," Steve blurted automatically, but Rhodey shook his head again. "I'm not done. I understand why, but you know what I don't understand? How you could possibly ruin one man's life, as well as countless others', for another person. Tony's my best friend. I'd do many things for him. But diving headfirst into something I don't understand, and at the same time risking my friends for his sake? I wouldn't do it. When it comes down to it, I wouldn't. I'd try to find another way." Dark eyes met blue ones, and Steve found himself thinking about how much darker Rhodes' eyes were than Stark's. "And what's even worse is that Tony offered you another solution to help Barnes, Rogers. You were just too stubborn to take it."
"After Ultron, after everything, I couldn't risk it," Steve retorted, folding his arms. I couldn't take that chance, you wouldn't understand, you haven't been in my position.
Rhodes just sneered at him. "You're lucky my metal legs are down in Tony's lab being repaired today, or I'd stand up and beat your ass myself. FRIDAY, open." The man moved to wheel himself out using the controls on the arms of his chair, but right before he exited, Rhodey stopped in the middle of the doors. He didn't turn around to face Steve, but said quietly, "I know what it's like to want to save someone you love so much you would do anything to have them back. But think about it - you have Barnes now, but you lost my admiration. You lost Tony, even though maybe that doesn't mean anything to you. You lost most of the public's respect and even your delusional teammates would rather save themselves first than you. You have no one but Barnes - one man at the expense of everyone else. So, tell me, Rogers - was. It. Worth it?"
The wheelchair glided smoothly out and Steve knew that he should be off to his room now, also on the second floor of the Compound, but he stood there numbly and blankly until FRIDAY told him to get out. Deep inside him, a cold, furious rage had started to uncoil - much unlike the hot and restless anger from before - the kind of rage that people harbor for years, the kind that turns them sharp and cunning. Catching his reflection in the doors of the elevator as he stepped out, he was glad to see that he only looked stronger than ever. And armed with his shield and his best friend by his side, he was invincible.
***
It was awkward when Bucky sat down at the table after Steve's fuming face was finally gone from sight. A sudden silence settled down like a heavy blanket over Tony and his friends (friends? Allies?) now that the little raccoon guy had nothing and no one to yell at anymore.
Bucky cleared his throat, forcing himself to look Stark in the eyes. The other man watched him, a hint of suspicion but also curiosity in his gaze. "Uh...I'm sorry for Steve's behavior. He - I dunno - he's a lot different now."
"It's alright," Tony said with a slight shake of the head, casually dismissing Bucky's apology. "I'm used to it. Even back when we were teammates, it took a lot of effort to get Rogers to act like he even tolerated me at all." This statement was followed by a little chuckle, almost as if the billionaire didn't care, but based off the rest of the table's angry faces, they could hear the bitterness tingeing Tony's words too. The way the man had even phrased it made Bucky's internal alarms go off inside his head. What exactly had gone down between Stark and his supposed best friend for Steve to hate him so much? He remembered the little squirt from 1940's Brooklyn - the kid liked everyone, except for bullies. But Bucky was pretty sure Stark, no matter what else he was, was not a bully.
It's not like he knew anything; after all, Steve had known the guy for far longer than he had...but something just felt off here. And as the Winter Soldier, Bucky'd learned to trust his instincts.
"Hey," Tony said all of a sudden. "Too much feeling-y shit going on in here - I feel like I'm dying or something with all these emotions. I'm going to go outside." He stood, and the Guardians stood with him. Bucky noticed the adoration bright in their eyes, even in the fierce little raccoon's. "You're welcome to come, you know, Barnes," Tony said offhandedly, addressing the supersoldier. "I don't bite. At least, not unless I'm in bed."
Bucky wanted to laugh, but all the day's stress and tension was getting to him and making his head fuzzy inside. So he just nodded and followed Stark out of the mess hall as the rest of the SHIELD agents watched.
As the supersoldier trailed behind silently, he watched how the unusual group acted around each other. Stark looked happier, more carefree, and he found himself thinking that the man looked a lot handsomer (not that he wasn't already - he wasn't on the Top 20 Sexiest Bachelors list for no reason) when there was no stress lining his face. Already the years seemed to be vanishing from his features as the single other human of the group - Quinn? - laughed and pushed him lightly on the shoulder. Next to the pair, the raccoon was shouting sarcastic quips up at them and the tree thing's shoulders were shaking gently. The green-skinned girl as well as the hulking creature next to her were both looking on in poorly-concealed fondness.
Bucky found himself wishing that he had that kind of dynamic with someone, anyone. Not Steve - despite the blonde's obvious hopefulness, he could never be the Bucky from 1940's Brooklyn ever again. But someone new, maybe; someone who wasn't afraid of him but was also aware of how broken a man could be inside.
"Hey, buddy, you alive in there?" Stark said, snapping his fingers in front of Bucky's face. The sound as well as the movement of his hand startled the supersoldier out of his stupor.
"Sorry," Stark said with a smirk. It was a strained smirk, but lightened the atmosphere just a bit. "Just checking." Bucky realized that he had been staring at all of them for much too long and that they had stopped on a nice grassy hill overlooking the Compound.
The raccoon flopped down onto the grass with a big happy sigh and pillowed his head on his hands, crossing his ankles as he looked up at the sky. "This is the life."
"Rocket, you'd be happy with anything as long as there was a sky," Stark said with a fond grin.
The animal - Rocket - rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. "Hey, you know, staring at space all the time gets a little boring and lonely sometimes, okay?"
The others, including Tony, joined him on their backs in the grass and Bucky sat down too, albeit awkwardly. He wasn't good in social situations like these. And talking to Stark was like operating a minefield - there were too many uncertain variables and it made his brain hurt. He didn't miss HYDRA - it wasn't like he had Stockholm Syndrome and the BARF technology had helped a lot - but sometimes what he did secretly miss were the straightforward commands and words spoken to him. He knew if he was hated - they'd beat him, and insult him, until he was a bloody hurting scrap. And on the off chance they were pleased, they'd give him a compliment - or at least, a sign of approval. In this new, shiny world, everything was so much more confusing. They didn't hurt him, they didn't wipe his memories, they didn't drown him and electrocute him and whip him till he was unconscious, but at least he had always known what was coming. He had always known before, but he knew nothing now.
At least with HYDRA, in a twisted sense, he knew his place and where he belonged. He didn't belong here, with Stark and his friends. He didn't deserve to sit with the man whose parents he had killed. He didn't deserve anything.
Bucky stared at his fists in his lap, and wondered how much blood on his hands he'd have if he was able to see it.
A body shifted out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up. "So, how're you enjoying the chaos of the twenty first century?" Stark said casually - a little too casually in Bucky's opinion. He was studying the assassin with an indecipherable look in his eyes.
Bucky shrugged. "Better than anything I coulda expected. So, 's fine, I suppose."
"Rogers should take you on a tour sometime," Stark said with a hard grin. "An approved one, obviously. But you should get to see the city."
Rocket elbowed Stark in the ribs. "Maybe he doesn't want to, Tony," the raccoon said, mock-annoyed. "New York is a wasteland compared to the beauty of my ship."
Tony turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I'll admit, it's better than what I've seen, but I could do better. And don't forget it was government issued - you stole it, Rocket. A few repairs here and there or that nude lady painted on the side don't count."
The green-skinned girl laughed as Tony turned back to Bucky, humor gradually fading away again. "Tour," he said. "Did you ever get to see any of Wakanda?"
Bucky shook his head. "I was stuck in cryo for almost a year, and then spent two tryin' to repair my mind. And Stevie...he's a...he's always been kind, but he's a bit overprotective. King T'Challa didn't want us out of the palace anyhow."
Stark barked out a laugh. "Really."
Bucky felt a surge of defensiveness rise to the surface. "Steve's a friend. And I never really got t' explore, besides what's on TV. Haven't seen much."
"Well, you need to," Tony said decisively, sitting up again and shielding the sunlight from his eyes with a hand. "I'll convince someone to tour you around, maybe Romanoff or something. Gets her out of my hair for a day and you your worldliness."
"You trust me out there? On the streets...with all those civilians? Stevie said that 's not worth the risk." Bucky stopped, and stared. Maybe Stark wasn't such a genius after all. He was a danger to society, no matter how much he had improved. The Winter Soldier was said to have been erased completely, but how could you erase something that was basically a part of yourself? Maybe he was only waiting deep inside Bucky's brain for a chance to come out.
"BARF helped, didn't it?" Tony said, watching him with an odd glint in his eyes. It looked almost...resentful. Or bitter. "You seem fine to me, Barnes. I trust that you won't go psycho and decide to mass murder a bunch of adults and children."
Bucky tensed, and the tree grumbled, "I am Groot" with a reprimanding glance at Stark.
Stark waved his hand in the air. "Romanoff could probably handle you anyway - she wouldn't be accompanying you without weapons. Seeing the world would be good for you, Barnes. Gives you anxiety but you'd probably end up liking it." Almost as an afterthought, the engineer shook his head and murmured, "God, Rogers, what are you trying to do, shove him into yet another corner?"
Bucky laid back as well and opened his eyes up to the huge swallowing sky. The few clouds littered across the blue seemed to be waving at him, like friendly cotton candy animations or something. He hadn't had cotton candy in so long…he wondered if it still existed, those kinds of candies. Maybe they had new types now. Things he'd never seen or tried before.
One thing he'd realized since waking up from cryo was that Steve, unlike him, had never been all that willing to explore the present. He still clung to his old photographs, his memories, his past. On the other hand, Bucky felt even relieved that he was here now - at least he was out of HYDRA's clutches. Perhaps it helped that although he could still remember much of his growing up in old Brooklyn, it was like a distant memory - detached and not his. So it didn't matter as much to him that he wasn't the old Bucky, although it would be so much easier and much more happy if he could only reverse time to the past.
The clouds moved slowly across the sky, the sun imprinting itself on the insides of Bucky's eyelids. Maybe he would someday create new memories here, that could overpower HYDRA's influence. And he could fight as an Avenger, and at least try to make up for the hundreds he had murdered in cold blood as the Winter Soldier.
Bucky wasn't sure if he believed in God anymore, but he figured there was still a higher being out there. Perhaps he'd been found by Steve so that he could make a difference and wash some of the blood from his hands. Perhaps that was what God had meant for him, or the people up in heaven or whatever. And deep inside him he had a little bit of hopefulness, too - because maybe then he'd stop waking up every night with his mind screaming murder and his eyes filled with the sight of betrayed brown eyes, metal fingers curling around the slender throat of a woman, and the blood from a skull smeared across a steering wheel on a dark and lonely night.