Chapter 59
Avengers Tower
August 2011
“What’s this about?” Steve asked his phone.
“Mr. Stark has requested your presence in the common area,” JARVIS said pleasantly. “More than that I am not at liberty to share.”
Steve scowled at the elevator’s ceiling, even though he knew JARVIS technically wasn’t hiding behind the panels. “So he’s keeping me in the dark.”
“I believe his exact words were “I want to see Rogers’ face”. Shall I contact him and request more information?”
Steve sighed. “No, I’m about there.”
“Is the gymnasium still meeting your requirements?”
“It’s great,” Steve said. And he wasn’t lying. It was actually really nice to not have to worry about how many punching bags he broke or weight machines that weren’t really meant to handle the strain he put on them or treadmills that couldn’t do what he wanted. Everything was top-of-the-line.
“I am glad.”
Steve waited, but JARVIS said no more. Evidently the conversation was over.
The elevator chimed, and Steve stepped out into their common room.
He saw in a glance that everyone was there, clustered around the table. Even Loki was sitting beside Darcy, expression edged with disdainful amusement as always, and there was Tony, looking gleeful. Everyone else seemed worried.
And Steve knew that head of red hair, standing next to an unfamiliar man. They were both facing away from him.
“Natasha,” he said with mixed relief and anger, striding forward. “Where have you-”
She turned, and so did the man beside her.
Steve missed a step. Stumbled to a halt.
His ears roared.
He knew that man. Steve took one shuddering step, and then another, and reached out with trembling hands.
“Bucky,” he rasped.
Bucky’s brows furrowed and he glanced at Natasha. Steve barely registered the shock and horror on her face, the confusion on everyone else’s. This was Bucky.
“You’re alive,” he managed. “That’s not possible.”
Steve’s best friend shifted uncomfortably. His left arm was in a sling. Why was it in a sling? Who hurt him?
“Who’s Bucky?”
Steve’s mouth opened.
No words came out.
“You are,” he finally said.
“Zima…” Natasha whispered.
Steve whirled on her, his grief transforming into anger. “You knew?”
“I swear-”
“How could you not tell me?” he snarled, stepping forward.
Instantly, Bucky was squared up beside Natasha. Something cold and vicious looked out of his eyes.
Natasha angled her body toward him, just slightly. Bucky backed down.
Steve’s eyes narrowed. Even pissed, he could read that silent language between them, a connection that came from years of working together, years of the closest kind of bond possible.
A language he had once shared with Bucky.
“Start talking,” he said, and didn’t recognize his own voice.