Chapter Text
September 2014 - The Playground
When confronted with the revelation that his long-thought-dead mentor was very much alive, Clint Barton was surprisingly calm.
He didn’t say anything to her while she explained the truth. Project TAHITI, SHIELD’s fall and feeble rise from the ashes. The group that Coulson was trying to pull together, the team he’d had before SHIELD fell. The betrayal of one of his agents, the near death of another, the takedown of John Garrett. Clint absorbed everything, listened to every bit of intel she had. There was no reaction before, during, or after it.
And then Natasha left him and told the rest of the group, all while Clint set a course for the area outside of DC. He needed time to think. She needed to give him that time.
The only two who understood the significance of the revelation were Steve and Sharon – Steve because he’d known Coulson with the Avengers Initiative, and Sharon because she’d been in SHIELD for years and worked with Strike Team Delta before. Kate, to her credit, seemed to understand it from the limited stories she’d heard about Coulson. Sam seemed confused. Even she couldn’t read Barnes’ face, where he was lurking in the doorway from the cabin.
Clint wasn’t angry at her. Natasha knew him better than that, and she’d told him when they were out of danger and Russian airspace. But she knew damned well how angry he was at Coulson, and the explosion that would come when they arrived.
She hoped he was ready for it. That they were all ready for it.
“Is Barton going to be okay?” Sharon asked quietly when they reached the airfield. Two black SUVs with somewhat questionable paintjobs were waiting, and Clint was silent as he moved into the backseat of one and slid in, not saying a word to the driving Skye even as Kate chattered with her in the passenger’s seat.
“He’s Barton. He’s always okay,” Natasha replied. Her gaze flickered towards the ramp as Barnes slowly came down, Steve not far away, Sam behind them both. “You go with them. I’ll go with the Hawkeyes.”
Sharon nodded her acceptance, waving the trio of soldiers over to the other SUV, pausing to squeeze Trip’s arm through the driver’s side window. “Shotgun,” Sharon called casually, smirking back at the three before taking the seat in question.
Sam rolled his eyes. “How does the shortest one of us all get the passenger’s seat?” he muttered, trying hard to inject something light into this tense atmosphere.
“You think one of us could stop her?” Steve only gave a weak smile, heading to the backseat with the others. “Go ahead and try and stop her.”
“I don’t have a death wish.”
Barnes moved a bit slower, a wary exhaustion deep within even his typical grace. He turned towards Natasha, watching her for a few moments with an expression she knew she did not want to get into. She nodded briefly at him and turned to her respective SUV. She didn’t get one step away before he spoke.
“Natalia.”
She froze.
Natahsa hadn’t heard that name in so long. The last time had been when Yelena called her it in DC, as a taunt, as a reminder that no matter how much good Natasha Romanoff might have done, she would never get completely away from Natalia Romanova.
He remembered her.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she promised. Warning blazed in her green eyes as she looked back at Barnes. “We will talk about it later. I promise. Not now. This isn’t the time.”
Barnes’s own blue eyes were narrowed, and he nodded briefly. “Fine,” he replied, not looking back at her before moving to the other SUV. The door slammed behind him, and Trip poked his head out and raised an eyebrow at her.
She sighed and went to join Clint, Kate, and Skye in their SUV. She would put Barnes remembering her on the list of shit she was going to have to deal with sooner or later. That list was getting longer by the second, and she didn’t doubt it would be worse when the day ended. Whenever that was.
The drive to the Playground was relatively quiet. Kate and Skye talked quietly in the front, about what they’d both been up to over the past few months, while Nat and Clint sat in the back.
Sometime in the middle of the two-hour trip, Natasha’s hand moved to Clint. She squeezed it tightly. To her relief, he squeezed back.
The warehouse area they drove into seemed to be abandoned. And it was far enough out of the way that no one would question it, not far away from a closed down quarry that probably provided it with an adequate cover story, should it need one. It entered one of the warehouses and drove down through some tunnels, finally stopping in a large hangar of sorts. She recognized a SHIELD plane nearby, black and heavy and huge. Its SHIELD eagle had not yet been painted over.
Clint was the first to leave the SUV upon their arrival at the Playground. His boots hit the ground with an audible stomp, his grey eyes examining everything as he closed the car door behind him. The archer flinched and glared at the man waiting for them a bit away, not looking back at the others as they got out of the car.
Phil Coulson, alive and clearly wary, waited patiently for whatever reaction he would get. He was in a suit that she’d seen him in a thousand times. Melinda May and several other agents stood with them, though Natasha only recognized one or two of them, Fury’s confidant Koenig among them. Well. One of the Koenigs, at least. Might have been Billy.
Natasha disembarked the SUV as Clint walked calmly to Coulson. The others had left the SUV as well. Sharon crossed to the other side, pausing a few feet away from Steve and shooting him a look. Sam stood on Steve’s other side, and perhaps very deliberately, Barnes was leaning against the SUV, behind all three of them.
There was silence for a few moments as Clint stared at Coulson, standing two feet in front of him. Everyone watched. Everyone waited. Natasha knew that it was only a matter of time.
Clint’s voice was surprisingly calm when he did speak. “You son of a bitch.”
Maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise when Clint lunged forward and punched Coulson in the face.
Natasha and Melinda both moved forward, towards their respective long-time partner. Natasha knew that the punch wasn’t that much of a surprise. She could almost hear the wince from Kate. She did hear a low mutter in Russian from Barnes wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
“Barton, that’s enough!” Melinda warned. She was moving to pull Clint away already. Or maybe throw him over her shoulder. It could have been either, knowing Melinda May.
“Melinda, don’t!” Phil’s voice was a bark, an order, and Melinda grit her teeth before shooting a look at Natasha that clearly said to stop Clint before she did. Coulson’s hand was at his nose, and Natasha caught a glimpse of blood.
“Yastreb! Clint!” Natasha’s voice was sharp, but not even that was enough to stop Clint from punching Coulson again when he straightened, sending him down to the ground. She groaned, looking back towards Steve and shooting him a look.
The super soldier shook his head and moved to the enraged archer as Clint made another lunge towards Coulson. He looped an arm around Clint’s stomach, pulling him to his feet easily. The third punch barely missed Coulson.
Steve’s tone was completely Captain America as he snapped, “That’s enough, Barton! That’s enough!”
“Get the fuck off me, Steve!” Clint snarled towards Steve, glaring back over at his former handler. “You let us think you were dead for two years! Two fucking years, Phil!”
“I didn’t have a choice, Barton.” Coulson moved carefully to his feet. There was blood coming from his nose, but his face was grim, his eyes exhausted. “I didn’t have a say in whether I got to told you.”
“Bullshit!” Clint slammed an elbow into Steve’s gut. It didn’t hurt the super soldier, but he reluctantly let Clint go. Clint didn’t go for Coulson again. “There is always a fucking choice,” Clint spat, glaring across at him. “You made your choice. You chose not to let any of us know.”
There was a moment where that regret flickered openly across Coulson’s face, and Clint snarled again, throwing Steve’s hand off his arm as he stormed away, stopping near the SUVs, still glaring towards Coulson. Near Sharon, Kate’s face was white as she stared across at Coulson. She’d never seen Clint like this before. She’d never seen Clint in the aftermath of Phil’s death. Natasha knew that this was going to be tough for her.
And Natasha knew that as protective Clint was of Kate, she was just as protective towards her mentor.
“If everyone’s done punching each other, we can actually begin talking,” Melinda said, shooting a withering look at Clint.
“We’ve got absolutely nothing to talk about, Mel. I punched him. That’s all I needed to say.” The archer rolled his eyes, arms crossed against his chest as he resumed glaring at his mentor, leaning against the SUV and sticking close to Kate in particular.
“I do believe we have something important to talk about.” Coulson did an admirable job of ignoring the blood from his nose, instead focusing on the rest of the newly arrived seven – Barnes in particular.
Bucky took a step forward, his head held high. Natasha watched carefully as Barnes moved past Sam and Sharon. She did notice the former SHIELD agent and former pararescue shoot each other worried glances, both of them clearly ready to move when they had to. Sharon looked towards Steve and nodding simply at him, and the meaning was clear – they had Barnes’ back.
Steve shot them both grateful looks from where he stood. The fact that he wasn’t the only one protective of Bucky was a relief. He wasn’t the only one who would be on guard, protecting him. He knew that Bucky might deny he needed protecting, but he knew that all of them would fight like hell to do so.
Trauma and tragedy created bonds. And the seven of them had gone through a hell of a lot together in the last day or two. That was why she and Clint worked well together. Why the Avengers had managed to come together.
Why, until the end of their days, the six original Avengers would have that fire-forged bond, and why Natasha knew on some molecular level that they would come back together again.
Coulson stepped forward, wiping some of the blood off his nose with a handkerchief, stopping directly in front of Barnes. “You must be Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson mentioned, like he didn’t have Barnes’ card in his personal collection.
Bucky lifted his chin, his eyes flickering over him. “Yes.” There was a hesitation to his reply, but his voice was strong.
The Director of SHIELD nodded slowly. “The Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA.”
“That’s what they call me.” There was a darker edge to Bucky’s voice as he met Coulson’s eyes. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but did not react, did not respond. “I killed your last Director.”
“No, you didn’t.” A chorus of at least five people came then, Natasha among them, and Bucky raised a brow, looking in surprise when he realized that absolutely no one seemed shocked by the admission.
If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, Natasha would have found the growing look of confusion on Kate’s face amusing.
“Or I thought I killed your last director,” Barnes corrected, his voice slightly lower.
Coulson shuffled slightly. “To be fair, death doesn’t always stick. You and Captain Rogers can speak of that well enough,” he mentioned, nodding. He paused, studying Barnes’ face before asking, “What do you want, Sergeant Barnes?”
Steve moved to speak, but Sharon stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm. The super soldier looked sharply down at the spy, who shook her head firmly. He swallowed heavily, eyes flickering back to Bucky. The ex-assassin needed to speak for himself, say what he wanted out of this. After decades being used as a weapon, Bucky needed the chance to speak for himself.
And if Bucky truly wanted a place to recover, he needed to say so himself.
“I want a place to lay low,” Bucky said after a few moments. He crossed his arms against his chest, the metal clear in the gaps of his fingerless gloves. “I need a place to figure out who the hell I am. What my next move is. And they think this is a safe place to at least figure out what to do next. I don’t know if it is, or if I can trust you. But I do trust them.”
Natasha knew enough to know that even if Barnes was lying, that was something he wanted to believe. Perhaps that would be enough. Either way, she saw the flicker of relief cross Steve’s eyes at the word trust.
“Can’t guarantee how safe this place is,” Clint muttered, scowling. He rolled his eyes when Kate hit his arm lightly. He also pointedly ignored the death glare Natasha shot him.
Coulson ignored the comment but seemed to accept Barnes’ statement. “There are conditions to you being here,” he said. “The instant one of my people is hurt by you or because of you, you’re gone.”
Bucky nodded simply. “Understood.”
He was dangerous. Every person in this damned room knew how dangerous he was. Natasha knew there was no point in lying about that. There was no point in denying it. And Natasha knew that no one did anything without reassurances of their own safety, without getting something in return. Especially not someone who’d devoted their life to SHIELD. Natasha just wondered what Coulson wanted to get out of this.
“Though I understand any discomfort you might have with scientists, I also ask that you undergo a medical examination. It’s SOP for any new arrivals.” Coulson looked at the others, “And that’ll go for the rest of you as well, over the next few days.”
Steve only nodded, his hands on his hips as he watched his best friend. “He’s not a prisoner.” There was a hard edge to Steve’s voice. “The second he or one of us want to leave, we leave. No questions.”
Captain America had already burned SHIELD to the ground once to find a way to stop HYDRA, to find Bucky. He would do it again in a second if he had to, for any one of them.
“I’m not in the mood to get into a war with you, Captain Rogers,” Coulson promised simply. Because each one of them knew that Steve would go to war if any of them were being held here against their will. “Your residence here, all of you, is by your own will.”
Sharon nodded before saying, “Sounds like all of us agree then.” Her tone was the conciliatory one Natasha heard when she was trying to calm everyone down. Usually that tone preceded a fight that Clay Quartermain started.
“For now, Sergeant, if you are willing to go to medical, we’ll have someone escort you.” Coulson’s eyes flickered towards Barton before he said, “Doctor Stiles is waiting in the infirmary with Doctor Simmons. If someone else would be willing to go-“
“I will,” Steve said instantly.
Coulson shook his head. “I was hoping to discuss other things with you, Captain Rogers.”
Steve frowned deeply, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t happy about that. It was understandable. After six months of racing after Bucky, the last thing he would want to do was let him out of his sight. He’d sat at Bucky’s side on the jet for two hours before he’d woken up. He’d kept close to the doorway even in the short times he’d left Bucky alone on the flight.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve said simply, though he knew that those terms would be important. They had to be discussed. And the sooner they were, the better. However temporary this arrangement was, they had to have open arrangements.
“It’s fine, Steve,” Bucky promised, his voice low as he shot him a serious look. “I’m okay. It’s just a medical check.”
The soldier didn’t look convinced. Steve turned, looking towards Sam, and the ex-pararescue nodded. “Go. I’ll stay with him.” Seeing Mia might have something to do with Sam’s volunteering, but Steve wouldn’t question it too much. Natasha would tease him for that later though, once she was sure everything was put back together.
Steve jumped half a mile when Sharon put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go with them too,” she promised simply. “I know what SHIELD SOP checks are like.”
The super soldier shot them both grateful looks, giving a relived sigh before saying, “Then let’s go talk, Coulson.” There was an exhausted, a disappointment, in his voice, and Coulson for his part looked slightly ashamed of it.
“Nat?” Coulson asked, raising a brow at her. “Will you be joining us?”
Natasha only nodded, giving a predatory smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
With plans made, Trip crossed the room and ruffled Sharon’s hair as he passed her, drawing a death glare from the blonde. “C’mon, I’ll go with you guys to the med bay. Introduce you to Fit-“ He paused, taking a deep breath before saying, “Simmons. I’ll introduce you to Simmons.”
Sam followed, talking quietly as the two made their way towards the one door. Natasha watched as Sharon hesitated past Barnes, squeezing his shoulder. Barnes flinched, but looked back at her and nodding, walking alongside her to the medical bay. Natasha looked at Steve, who looked far more openly relieved at the fact that Bucky wasn’t alone now. Skye and Kate left through another exit, and she heard Skye mention getting food. Nothing like food to get over an awkward situation.
“Captain,” Coulson mentioned, gesturing towards the exit. Steve walked with him, and Coulson quietly mentioned, “I would also like a full report regarding the incidents at the Triskelion…” Coulson lead the way out of the room, leaving Melinda and Natasha alone.
“You’re still pissed?” Melinda asked, raising a brow at Natasha.
Natasha scoffed. “Damn right I am. But I don’t care about that right now. I care about making sure Clint is okay and that Barnes are safe.” She started to the exit. “You coming, Mel?”
Even if she was pissed at them, Melinda May was a friend. Natasha only had so many of them.
“Of course.” Melinda shook her head before saying, “I assume Barton will show back up eventually.”
Steve glanced behind him, surprise crossing his face when he realized Barton was gone. He raised an eyebrow at Nat, but seemed to sigh and resign himself to it when she shrugged.
“He needs some time to think,” Natasha said, shooting a hard look at Coulson as the four of them left the hangar. “And he sees things better from a distance.”
And she knew that the catwalks, and her partner, would be waiting whenever this meeting was done.
September 2014 - The Playground
Bucky was not a fan of doctors.
It was an expected side-effect of sixty something years of being experimented on, he assumed. Medical consent was not a priority to HYDRA, nor was treating their test subject like anything that resembled a human being. Bucky was a lab rat and one for so long that even the lab of the Playground, where he’d never been, was anxiously familiar.
As far as he could remember, however, there’d been no female scientists or doctors in HYDRA, only the occasional female agent. He wondered if Coulson’s tactics here were on purpose, even if it was something as simple as the gender of the doctors. One doctor was in her early thirties, dark haired with a graphic tee on, and she immediately hugged Sam when she saw him. Sam hugged her back, and his shoulders almost seemed to slump with exhaustion.
Sharon leaned against the wall, arms crossed against her chest as she watched everything. Coulson’s man, the one Bucky heard Sharon call Trip, stood next to her. The two chattered quietly, though both were watching him. Sharon seemed almost calmer with her. She trusted this man.
Steve trusted Sharon, the other one named Sam, and Sharon trusted this man with them. Bucky didn’t trust any of them yet, but he knew that there was little to no choice for him.
The other doctor in the room was younger than the hugger, her hair a lighter brown as well, her dress more formal than the other. She was biting on her lip, frowning as she looked down at a thick folder. He dimly recognized it as his own, and for a brief second, all he could see was one of the doctors who’d worked with him.
His metal arm whined as it curled into a fist, and that was when Bucky forced himself to snap out of it.
No one seemed to have noticed that moment of weakness. Except, he realized, the younger female doctor. She paused, her eyes flickering to the others.
To Bucky’s surprise, she only smiled weakly at him and turned the page of his folder. She hadn’t told the others of that moment. Bucky blinked in surprise, forcing any expression off his face. He instead focused on his surroundings, on the conversation happening behind him.
“How is Clint?” the older brunette doctor asked, looking between Sam, Sharon, and even Bucky. She was treating him like he was one of them, like it was nothing. “Badly hurt? Him or any of you?”
“Cuts and bruises for the most part. He’s more upset about Coulson,” Sharon replied simply, sighing as she sat down at one of the high-top seats on the one side of the room.
“Understandably so,” Sam muttered, sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face. “You call his brother?”
The older brunette nodded. “Yeah, Barney knows. And he knows about Coulson, he’s livid. Knowing him, he might just jump on a plane to DC and see him-“
He stopped listening at that point. The three clearly knew each other and were catching up. If it meant that less attention was put onto him, he was fine with it. He did not want people to pay attention to him. He wanted to stay under the radar. That was better off for all of them.
“Sergeant Barnes?”
Someone called his name, and everything went quiet. Bucky’s ice blue eyes flickered to the speaker, and he swallowed.
The younger doctor was in front of him and speaking with him. She was small, and slender, and was British. And in her ears were what looked to be tiny blue phone boxes. She was pretty, that much was clear, and Bucky caught a brief flash in his mind of picking up girls like her in dance clubs, a long time ago, back when Steve had been small and scrawny…
Bucky forced the thoughts out of his head, squeezing his eyes shut before looking back at her. “Yes.”
She looked surprised that he responded but took it in stride. “My name is Doctor Jemma Simmons, I’m a biochemist here.” She gestured at the objects next to her, and Bucky realized that it was a syringe with a needle. “If you don’t mind, could I please take some blood?”
He didn’t respond for a few moments. Bucky frowned slightly as he looked back up at her. “You’re asking?”
Bucky was vaguely aware that she looked almost surprised in turn. “Of course,” she said, like it should have been obvious. “Bodily autonomy is important in medical procedures, even if these are required…” She trailed off when she saw the look on his face. “I’ll only do it if you’re alright with it.”
Bodily autonomy. That was not something that Bucky Barnes was used to. He was almost impressed that she had asked, that she was acting like there was nothing out of the ordinary about that.
“…yeah. You can take it.” He was alright with that, at least. Especially since the Director had said that it was required.
Doctor Simmons gave a little smile and moved to the left arm. She proceeded to pause, her eyes widening before she moved back to his right arm. “Sorry about that,” she murmured, a faint blush on her cheek. “Forgot about that.”
“It’s fine.” Bucky felt the corner of his mouth twinge, and he watched her carefully. People didn’t forget the metal arm, but she genuinely had. And that amused him, honestly.
The British doctor sighed as she took the sample carefully. “In the… records we have, they did use different drugs, many of which would cause a withdrawal. Did you have any withdrawal symptoms? Vomiting, nausea, potential diarrhea?”
God knew those first few days after his decision to go after HYDRA had been hard. He’d woken up in his own vomit two days after he’d decided to go on the run to take down HYDRA, and had been bed ridden for at least a week. It had been hell, but he was better now. He had to be.
“Not for months. The first week or two after the Triskelion were the worst. Last symptoms were day eighteen.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. It just didn’t give away everything. He didn’t like to think about those first days anyway.
He’d counted the days at first, until he realized that he’d lost count somewhere around day one hundred and twenty-eight. It was a surprisingly victorious feeling, realizing that he’d however briefly lost count of how long he’d been away from HYDRA. He’d been sure so many times that it was temporary.
It didn’t seem like it was going to be temporary. Maybe this freedom would last.
“Any major chemical withdrawals would have occurred in those first few weeks,” the biochemist said, frowning as she finished the blood sample. She reached down and bandaged the wound. “I think you might have escaped any problems with that, but the blood sample will help. I’ll make sure it’s destroyed when Doctor Stiles are I are done-”
“Mia,” the older brunette doctor called, rolling her eyes where she stood nearby, watching them. “Mia. My name is Mia, Jem. Call me Mia.”
Bucky caught Sam smile slightly, glancing back at the woman. Wilson was smitten with her. With a jolt, he realized he was still looking at things like that. Looking for pressure points. Like the way that Carter had been sticking close to Steve, perhaps out of a familiarity, obligation, or more. Wilson cared for the older doctor in a different way.
He didn’t have to do that anymore. He didn’t have to find the weaknesses and the pressure points of the people around him. He was safe.
Briefly, he wondered how long it would take for him to remember that he was safe.
A British accent cut through his thoughts. “Any time you have questions regarding this procedure, please ask,” she mentioned to him, taking a small flashlight and moving to his face. “It’s your body, Sergeant Barnes. You deserve to have what answers you want, when you-“
“What’s your name again?” Bucky interrupted, just before the caramel-haired doctor continued whatever tangent she might have been on next.
He’d heard her name before, but he wanted to hear her say it. Because he didn’t want to just think of her as a doctor. That was a recipe for everything to fall apart, for her to someday get his metal hand around her neck. And he could not risk anyone else getting hurt.
She paused, almost surprised that she would have been asked that. “Jemma. My name is Jemma Simmons.”
Jemma Simmons. Pretty name for a pretty doctor.
Bucky nodded slowly. “Do you mind if I just-“ He took a deep breath before admitting, “I don’t have the best experience with doctors. And calling you doctor might… might trigger some stuff.” Admitting it was almost liberating, but terrifying. “Calling you both by your first names might help.”
She didn’t hesitate in nodding. “Jemma is more than fine, Sergeant.” She paused as she looked down at the clipboard before saying, “What would you prefer to be called?”
He thought. They’d called him the Soldier. The Asset. The Fist of HYDRA.
He didn’t want to be those any more.
“James,” he said simply. “Just James for now.” He didn’t think he was worthy of the name Bucky yet. Maybe he would never be. But James was at least a start, even if he didn’t tell Steve not to call him that anymore.
“Do you want the rest of us to call you that?” Mia asked quietly from where she stood next to Sam. She was sticking close to Sam, almost letting Jemma take up the lead on this, even though she was a true medical doctor. He knew that it had to be on purpose.
“Yes.” He hesitated before saying, voice lower, “Steve can still call me Bucky. I’m okay with that. But for everyone else…”
“James it is,” the man against the wall, Trip assured him. “Whatever you want to be called. We’ll make sure everyone knows it.”
Bucky’s eyes flickered to him, and he finally took a good, hard look at the younger man. Something flickered in his mind, like a dying candle against the wind, and he realized he recognized him. “You look familiar,” Bucky mentioned, frowning. “We haven’t met though.”
“We haven’t. You and my grandfather have though.” A genuinely enthusiastic grin crossed over Trip’s face. “Gabe Jones was my mom’s dad.”
Across the room, as she wrote in a few notes from the blood test, Jemma could see the held moment on Sharon’s face. The ex-agent looked towards Bucky, waiting for any sign that there was a memory triggered, if this was a good or bad sign. She also looked more than ready to put herself between Trip and Barnes should a fight break out.
It was nearly ten seconds, as Bucky studied Trip intently. Trip was perfectly calm, his chin lifted as he watched Bucky. He was as casual as if he was always studied by deadly assassins.
To the surprise of all, a genuine smile crossed Bucky’s face. “Jones,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Gabe. Your grandfather was a good man.” He hesitated before saying, “You said was…”
Trip waved a hand. “Passed a few years back in his sleep. It was quiet. Left his ashes on Grandfather Mountain. He talked about you a lot. Said you were a good guy. That all of you were.”
Something flickered across his face a few moments later, a deep melancholy that broke Jemma’s heart. Steve Rogers had gone through something like this, realizing bit by bit that the people he’d known and love were long gone. And Barnes had that on top of the fact that he’d been used as a covert assassin for decades. Steve had been lucky enough to been unconscious during all of it, but Bucky had gone through horrors between stints in cryo, according to his folder.
This man really did have so far to go. And it broke her heart to think about it.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Barnes said softly, closing his eyes. “I’m glad he had a good life though.”
“The best,” Trip assured him, giving a quiet smile. “He’d be glad to know you’re getting another chance.”
Bucky nodded, looking back down at his hands briefly. Maybe he was getting another chance. He just didn’t know if he deserved one or not.
“You know, one of the books I took overseas was a Gabe Jones biography. It inspired me to go into the armed forces,” Sam mentioned quietly, looking back over at them. Trip looked over in surprise, and Bucky’s blue eyes flickered to Sam. “I still have it on my bookshelf at home.”
“Written by Amanda Zielinski?” Sharon asked. She smiled as she noticed Sam’s nod of confirmation and added, “That was my mom. She was a writer. Met my dad while writing Peggy’s biography.”
“No kidding,” Sam mentioned, looking impressed as he looked between them. “You two know each other, right?”
Trip snorted. “Since forever.”
Sharon laughed, shaking her head. “Diapers, at least. Howling Commando reunions. Fun fact, I dared Trip to eat dirt once and he threw up all over his mom’s lemon custard.”
“Hey! We said that would go to the grave.”
“You did. I made no promises.” Sharon laughed when Trip shoved her off the chair. She caught herself easily, shooting a middle finger at Trip.
To Jemma’s open surprise, there was a tiny smile on Bucky’s face. As she continued with the medical examination, the three chattered, Mia helping with the exam but for some reason letting Jemma lead it. Everything seemed to be easier with this talk. Everything seemed to be coming together.
Of all the conversation, the thing that caught Jemma’s attention the most was Sharon’s explanation of her mother’s work. When Amanda Zielinski-Carter passed away in a fire when Sharon was six, the only two of her Howling Commando biographies unfinished were Steve and Bucky.
As she looked over towards James Barnes, Jemma thought that there might be some symmetry for that. And that maybe there was some hope for them both to continue their stories.
September 2014 - The Playground
Steve was tired.
They were safe. They were safe from HYDRA and away from anyone that might be seeking Bucky for their own ends. That was enough for now. But Steve knew that this peace would not last, and ensuring it lasted as long as possible might require a deal with the devil.
For the life of him though, Steve never though Phil Coulson might be that devil.
“Avengers Tower isn’t an option?” May asked.
To their credit, Coulson and May seemed to be as wary about allowing Bucky to remain there as Steve was. But their options were incredibly limited, and he knew that they were going to need to debate the ones they did have nearly to death.
“No,” Steve said, his voice firm as he looked back. “With all due respect, ma’am, but it’s not. There’s too much attention on it. Very soon, there's going to be a newborn child in it. I might trust him, but… but I can’t ask Tony and Pepper to potentially put their baby in the cross hairs if something goes wrong.”
And there were a million things that could go wrong. Natasha was already making a list of them in her mind, Steve was sure of that. The redhead was on her feet, exploring the office with an open nosiness. There were boxes everywhere, and Steve briefly wondered how long SHIELD had been hiding there.
“Stark has made public about his plans to reform the Avengers as a response to HYDRA,” Coulson pointed out. He looked to Natasha. “You haven’t considered it?”
“I haven’t talked to Stark for a few months,” Natasha replied, raising a brow at Coulson before saying, “Don’t think for a moment though I won’t be calling him the second we get out of this meeting though.”
May only gave a sigh of annoyance. “Natasha.”
“Melinda.” Natasha glared back over at her before saying, “Every single one of us thought he was dead. He doesn’t get to reveal to one of us that he’s alive without all of us finding out. I kept the secret until Clint found out. Now, everyone’s finding out.”
There was no argument in her voice, and Steve could see the moment Coulson decided not to fight with Natasha about that.
“All of you are more than welcome to stay here as a part of SHIELD,” Coulson pointed out. “If you don’t wish to go back to the Avengers, there’s a place here-“
“No.” The answer was firm and hard from both Avengers.
Coulson blinked in slight surprise. “Clearly you’ve both made your choice.”
“I’m not going back to SHIELD,” Steve said, his voice low as he looked back at Coulson. “You don’t think I haven’t heard about factions popping up everywhere, claiming to be the legitimate one? Coulson, it’ll turn into fights over scraps quicker than you can blink.”
Natasha scoffed when Coulson tuned to her. “And I’m done, and I’m staying with Clint. There’s no way in hell he’s going to want to be near you for a long while, and you can’t blame him.”
“No. I can’t.” Coulson looked exhausted for a few moments, rubbing his temples before saying, “The offer will be on the table for the rest of them. But Barnes will need somewhere to stay.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Is this you offering him sanctuary?”
“I don’t have enough room to run a shelter here. If you wants to stay here, he’s welcome. But we could use him in the field.”
“No.” Steve scoffed before snapping, “He just got away from HYDRA. He’s still recovering. He is not going back out into the field.”
“Isn’t that his choice?”
Steve took a deep breath. “It is,” he conceded, looking back over. “But are you going to accept his choice?”
“Will you?” Coulson countered.
Natasha’s hand moved to Steve’s shoulder before he could retort. Steve took a deep breath before looking back over. “You said there were other things you wished to discuss. Was that it?”
“I wish. Captain Rogers, did you ever hear about the Fridge during your time in SHIELD?” Coulson asked, turning his attention back to the super soldier.
Steve’s frown deepened as he briefly nodded. “A few times,” he mentioned. “It’s a SHIELD prison. Never went there myself.”
“Phil.” The look Melinda shot him was a warning, and Coulson only nodded. May sighed before shaking her head, sitting down in a far chair.
Coulson stood, moving towards the far wall. Steve turned, eyes flickering to Natasha. The redhead only shrugged lightly, tilting her head slightly as she watched her former handler pull up a surprisingly large number of pictures on the screen in front of them.
“In the chaos of the HYDRA uprising, two HYDRA agents managed to release everyone. We’ve managed to find a few of them, but others…” Coulson gave a tired sigh before looking back. “Others are still in the wind. And the type of people that were held in the Fridge are some of humanity’s worst.”
“And what do you want us to do about that?” Steve asked, knowing damned well what he would want.
“You pass this information along to Stark. Whether the three of you go back to the Avengers or not, he will have the resources to find some of these people. They’re dangerous. And with SHIELD the way it is right now… we don’t have the resources to hunt each one down.” Coulson sighed as he looked at one closed file.
Natasha stood, moving to one side of the room, looking at the files that were open. “You can put the Berserker staff back in active service,” she called, turning to look back at them. “A friend of Thor’s is using it now, a half Asgardian. Her name’s Sora Larsen.”
Coulson frowned, exchanging a look with May. “They got the staff back from Cuba?” he asked. Steve could almost see the headache forming.
“Anthony Masters did. I talked to Thor and Tony after they helped liberate Larsen and a few others from HYDRA.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “You were the SHIELD team Elliott Randolph met, weren’t you?” It wasn’t a question.
“That we were.” Coulson paused before groaning, “Wait, half Asgardian? Please don’t tell me Randolph is her father.”
“That he is,” Natasha confirmed, smirking slightly at Coulson’s reaction.
Coulson shook his head. “I’m ignoring that headache for another day. But these people are the worst that humanity has to offer. Enhanced psychopaths, dangerous soldiers of fortune… and HYDRA will be looking for them.”
Natasha paused before looking sharply back at him. “What about Marcus Daniels?”
There was an edge to her voice that Steve noticed, and the super soldier watched as a blank mask, similar to both Barton and Romanoff’s, came over Coulson’s face. “He was the first one dealt with,” Coulson promised simply. “And the person you and I are both thinking of is safe.”
Natasha nodded, satisfied, and Steve gave a sigh. “And the rest of them?” he asked. “No sign?”
“The United States government is dealing with some. Others we’re trying to find, and I think that Captain America stands a better chance against them than some of my agents do.”
Steve sighed before saying, “Send the information to Natasha, and we’ll get it to Stark. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.
“You’re more than welcome to take a few days to decide, but like I said… I don’t have enough room to make this a refugee center. I will need a decision.” Coulson nodded before saying, “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll get rooms ready for you and the others.”
The super soldier nodded before moving to Coulson and offering his hand. “I am glad you’re alive, Director,” Steve said simply. “I just hope you know what we’re doing.”
The Director of SHIELD gave a droll smile. “That makes two of us.” Natasha walked past all of them, phone already heading to her ear. “Can I guess who you’re calling?” Coulson called.
“You know who he is,” Natasha called, her voice fading. “And you know he’s gonna react just as well as Clint did.”
Coulson and May exchanged a look, and Steve knew already that it was going to be a long few days.
September 2014 - The Playground
One day after their arrival, Clint was still up in the rafters of the hanger, watching all the goings-on from above. He’d only spoken to Natasha at length, with only Mia daring to pop up to annoy him every now and again, whether it be to harass him about eating or talking about his feelings. He was perfectly fine sneaking food during the night and bottling those feelings up, thank you very much.
That changed when Kate climbed up to his perch.
Of course, because it was Kate and boundaries to a teenage girl were nonexistent, Clint wasn’t completely surprised. He was impressed that she’d left him alone for a full day.
“I’m not in the mood to talk,” Clint warned, his arms around the railing as he stared down.
“Then don’t,” Kate replied. She shrugged lightly, sinking cross-legged onto the catwalk a yard or two away from him, her back to the wall. “I’ll just play Candy Crush or something. Volume turned off, of course, I’m not an asshole.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “I’d just go and stop wasting your time. Spar with one of them or something. Go spend stupid amounts of money.”
“I’m on vacation. This isn’t me wasting my time, this is me playing Candy Crush up on a catwalk because that’s where normal people go to hang out, apparently,” Kate deadpanned, tapping furiously on her phone and scowling at something Clint couldn’t see. “Maybe Angry Birds would be better…”
“Kate.”
“Clint.”
The older archer merely sighed deeply, closing his eyes and mentally counting back from ten before opening them. He watched the floor below, Steve and the mechanic down below, chatting quietly as they looked over the motorcycle. Coulson’s stupid red car was sitting on one parking spot near the motorcycle.
At least some people here were getting along. Even if he knew that Steve was forcing himself very hard not to hover around the medical bay, where Mia and Simmons were trying to come up with treatment plans to help Barnes.
He was just waiting to leave. Natasha wanted to stay until they knew what Steve and Barnes were going to do. Clint was only staying there for her, and for Mia and Kate. Maybe Steve and Sam and Sharon and Barnes. Maybe. They kinda had gone to hell for him.
That was going into dangerous territory. But Clint’s thoughts had been doing that often the last few days.
“Hypothetical question,” Clint said, his voice hard.
“Hypothetical answer,” Kate replied. He could feel her eyes on him.
Clint took a deep breath. “I die in some gigantic mess. You think I’m dead. You think it’s your fault. Turns out, I’m not dead, over two years later, and I kept it from you. How pissed are you?”
He was angry. He was angrier than he’d ever been. But a part of him was beyond relieved that Coulson was alive, that he didn’t have to carry that guilt around. But that guilt had been a part of him for two years, and he couldn’t turn it off with the flip of a switch. He needed someone to tell him he was being overdramatic.
“I don’t think that level of anger exists,” Kate pointed out simply, sighing as she put her phone in her pocket. She moved her leg forward, sighing as she moved into a yoga pose. “You have a right to be angry.”
“Damn fucking right I do,” Clint muttered, sighing as he moved from his crouch.
His legs swung in the open air as he watched everything down below, the mechanic working on the SUVs, Steve examining a motorcycle and chatting with said mechanic, everything. Even he noticed how Steve’s eyes would flicker to the other side of the room on occasion, in the direction of the medical bay.
Everything had turned into a fucking mess, and while Clint hated the fact that they were there, he knew it was the only option. Steve had helped to risk everything to save him. He couldn’t abandon him now.
His thoughts were broken with the silence moments later, when Kate finally spoke.
“You know, I cried.”
Clint finally looked back at her. Kate was looking at her phone again, but her fingers were still. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Kate sighed as she moved next to him, letting her ankle-boot clad feet over the edge next to his.
“After I got in contact with Nat and got into the motel room in West Virginia, I cried,” Kate explained simply. She shoved her phone into her pocket before looking at him, “I broke down completely because one of the few people I cared about was missing and might be dead. So, I might not understand the entire thing with your mentor pretty much coming back from the dead… but I understand how much it sucks for one of the few people to believe in you as a human being with no expectations to be missing and likely dead.”
They didn’t do emotions. Clint Barton and Kate Bishop were not the type of people that acknowledged and deal with their emotions, good or bad. Their shared coping mechanisms were sarcasm and avoidance, following closely by coffee, pizza, and Lucky.
“Me getting caught wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I was trapped the second I got to South Africa. HYDRA wanted me there for an easy pick up, and Klaue knew who I was. Nat could take care of herself. You-” Clint shook his head. “You’re one of the best archers I’ve ever seen. But if HYDRA got you, you’d break. You weren’t ready for them.”
Kate took a steadying breath. “Good thing I listened to you then. And that I decided to go after you. You’re the only Hawkeye who gets to be brainwashed.”
“You didn’t have to come after me,” Clint pointed out simply. “I never expected you were gonna.”
“You knew I would,” she pointed out simply. “You’d do the same for me.”
“A thousand times over.” He reached over, ruffling her hair. “You’re a brat. But you’re a good kid. And you’re gonna be a better human being.”
Kate gave a deadpan smile. “Maybe that’s why I volunteered to take Rogers and Barnes to Target to get clothing for him. That or I’m a masochist.” She paused as she looked towards the floor below, frowning at the sound of squealing tires. “Someone’s here.”
Clint frowned, looking towards it as he paused, seeing a dirty truck slam into a space in the middle of the room. The truck was familiar, and the man that got out of the passenger seat was more so. Clint couldn’t help but grin when he heard the shouting that he knew came from the worry only an older brother could give.
“Alright, where is he?!” Barney yelled as he moved to the backseat of his truck. “Where the hell is my brother? Clint, I brought your damned dog, get your ass out here!”
He opened the door to the backseat, and Lucky burst out, barking loudly and running around. Clint’s heart nearly stopped at seeing his dog for the first time in nearly six months. God, what if Lucky didn’t remember him? It’d been so frigging long.
His protégé, however, seemed to hold no such fears. “Lucky!” Kate squealed, her eyes widening.
The dog looked up sharply at the sound of his voice, tail wagging so hard Clint was concerned it would break. The archer moved to his feet, hurrying to the ladder. Kate was right behind and then above him, all the way down.
Lucky jumped around the bottom, barking. He paused when Clint came down, tail slowly before he lunged forward, whining and launching himself at Clint.
Clint couldn’t help the laugh that came over as he opened his arm to the dog. “Hey there, buddy,” he laughed, hugging the dog tightly, hearing the whines and accepting the licks of one of the things he cared about most. “I’m alright, buddy, I’m alright. I’m home.”
“Stop hugging the dog and get your ass up here,” Barney ordered, grabbing Clint’s arm and pulling him into a tight hug. Clint couldn’t help but hug him back, Lucky still jumping around and barking. “You’re alright?” Barney demanded, looking at his brother.
“Of course I am,” Clint pointed out, letting him go a moment later. “Barton boys are survivors, remember?”
A smile appeared on Clint’s face for the first time since he’d found out that Coulson was alive. Unseen by the Barton boys, Natasha stood near Steve and the mechanic, smirking as she shot a thumbs up at Kate.
Kate gave a weak smile, kneeling down and letting Lucky pounce at her. Sometimes, it was about the small victories, and that was the only way they were going to survive this.
That and the dog. Dogs always helped.