Work Text:
“Hello Bruce.”
The shock along nearly sent him spiraling out of control, muscles bunching up as adrenaline coursed through his veins. A beaker shattered, twelve hours of work gone. He dragged in a breath as rage bubbled below his skin. He ached to give into it, to free himself of this pitiful fucking body and smash, destroy —
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
Bruce heaved in another breath, stepping back from the ledge of destruction into the smothering hold of control. He could feel the green draining from his eyes as he finally cracked them open. Winter was there, pen poised over his journal watching him with an owlish expression.
“Winter,” he took another deep breath. “You scared me.”
“Yes! The Soldier has been investigating security measures and weaknesses, in case it ever had to work for Hydra again. So I thought I’d help.”
The commotion had drawn Tony’s attention from the suit he was designing and he knocked on the door hesitantly. Bruce nodded his head and the door opened. “I didn’t even see him come in — you good, big guy?”
“Fine.” Bruce needed time to meditate, to get that prickling rage to die back down. “You should, uh, talk to him. Excuse me.”
Bruce hoped that he didn’t seem to short or at least that Tony understood why he was making such a hasty exit. He didn’t fault Winter, it wasn’t his fault that he lacked the social graces most humans had. His questionable mission also raised red flags but he couldn’t worry about that until he was in control. Jarvis played soothing music as he rode up to his floor and Bruce appreciated that.
He’d be fine and, if anything, this had been an exercise in his self control.
•• •• •• ••
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Winter shrunk back a bit, hand tightening around his notebook. Steve didn’t yell at Winter. He muttered under his breath and sighed angrily but he didn’t yell.
“Helping the Soldier.”
“By setting off the Hulk? I swear there isn’t a brain in that head of yours.” Steve turned away pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to call Rumlow.”
He stalked out of the living room, leaving Winter alone. Slowly he reached up to touch his skull. There was a brain inside of it — there had to be! That was where they all slept. Clint was supposed to go to the aquarium tomorrow and he said Winter could go too so he could see real live squid. But Steve sending him away.
He didn’t think that Jack would want to bring him to an aquarium. The commander definitely wouldn’t. He sunk down on the couch, stomach heavy. Winter couldn’t do anything right and he was so, so stupid to think that he could. His vision swam and he pulled his knees up to his chest, flipping open the journal to where the Soldier had been conducting research on blind spots in security.
He jotted down that following the blind spots could get him into the lab without being noticed. And, after a moment added: but it’ll make the Hulk mad and Steve will send you away.
Winter hadn't even gotten to explain why he had done it, that he was trying to help. He didn’t dare protest. Steve had yelled for the first time and he didn’t want to upset him further. He closed the journal as Steve came back in the room.
“Pack whatever you want to bring then meet me in the garage.”
Winter nodded. He didn’t drag his feet even though he wanted to, wishing he could go up and tell Clint and Lucky goodbye. It probably didn’t matter. They liked the Soldier because he could fight and they liked Bucky because Steve loved him. They didn’t like Winter. No one liked Winter.
•• •• •• ••
Jack was placing his tool box on the workshop bench when he heard the rumbling of the car. The only people who came to the house were bible thumpers, Jehovah Witnesses and Steve. It was a sorry day when Jack realized he was actually hoping Steve Rogers was showing up. It was expected this time, Steve had called him, but usually it wasn’t Sure enough the car pulled to a stop and Winter popped out. The second that door was shut Steve was pulling around and leaving a cloud of dust.
And Steve liked to say Brock was an asshole.
Winter had his black canvas bag folded against his chest tightly, steps small and hesitant. Christ did Jack's heart twinge a bit at the 'kicked puppy' way he approached.
Jack wondered if Super Soldier's could have their teeth kicked in because he wanted to do it to Rogers for whatever he'd done to upset Winter this badly.
Jack straightened and met Winter halfway. "Hey,"
He looked him up and down for any noticeable marks. Jack hadn’t seen him this timid in a long time.
"Hello Agent Rollins." He stood there a moment, his entire body thrumming with tension before he held the bag out like an offering that truly pained him to give up. "This is my stuff."
Winter functioned well most days and other days it made Jack wonder how bad the brain damage was.
"I know," Jack adjusted his stance a bit, the metal arm was catching the light and glinting directly in his eye. "Wanna see if the Commander is still working?"
Winter still wouldn't look at him but shook his head no quite clearly. His hair was awfully shaggy today, no one had reminded him to run a comb through it.
Maybe the shield could bust Cap's teeth?
"No?" Winter was usually bouncing on the balls of his feet spouting off about stupid shit. He always asked to see the Commander if he wasn't drawn by Winter's voice. "You okay?"
Winter nodded quickly and uttered, "Functional."
Ah hell. Jack ran his fingers through his slicked back hair and exhaled. Sometimes the right words could snap him out his little rut and set him back on track.
"Let's go put your bag away and see the Commander," Jack settled because Winter always liked to see the Commander, the kid was practically obsessed with him.
Jack liked to tease he'd never be able to love Brock more than Winter did.
Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome but the happiness on Winter's face wasn't. Winter's official (unofficial Brock would always snap) bedroom was the one furthest away from theirs. That was for the sake of sanity. Winter apparently didn't understand boundaries so they had to lay out rules that one would think were obvious. Not going into other people's bedrooms at night, not following someone all around the house because he missed them. Winter was good at hovering, from his sniper days, and would gladly stand just a few feet away from them and chatter. Brock locked himself in the office when Jack was home and let him suffer alone.
Keeping Winter occupied became a common theme. The house needed work so that was a good endless project to divert his attention toward.
Winter's room was strange and they tried to avoid it whenever possible. He had a desk which was covered in notebooks that Jack dug out of the central air ducts and threatened to burn if he found them in there again. Winter had looked ready to bust his head open with that metal fist of his and instead cried. Those tears had been big and emotional, nothing like the solemn tears he had shed as the Soldier when severely injured or malfunctioning.
The window sills were lined with random shit he'd found outside. Smooth rocks, jagged rocks, glittery rocks — most rocks, actually with the occasional empty bottle scarfed from Brock or Jack in between. "Mine," Winter said brightly when Jack asked why he had them.
It made sense. Winter wasn't allowed to have stuff before so now he wanted everything even if it was trash. Jack watched Winter hesitate on the threshold and for a moment worried he had forgotten. Was that even possible? It was like one stream of consciousness was Jack's understanding. Winter went to sleep and woke back up as himself a few weeks or months later.
"Can I stay here? I don't want to go back."
Jack exhaled slowly trying to think of a response. ‘Sure thing Winter and then the Avengers can come blow our house up because they think you've turned back.’
"Steve would be sad." Even Jack didn't buy it and Winter hunched over a bit. "I mean, the Avengers would miss you over there."
"No they wouldn't."
Jack clicked his tongue. "C'mon, get your stuff put away and we'll go find the Commander."
Winter was unusually slow about putting his things into the drawers and setting the bag on the shelf in the closet. He paused at the window sill, metal fingers running over an empty whiskey bottle.
"Don't you miss me?"
Jack's eyes drifted shut a moment. Sometimes he missed the times when Winter was afraid of his own shadow and never asked emotion-fueled questions.
"Of course I do Winter." Jack said, feeling defeated. "But you know it's not that simple. And Rogers lets you visit so that's good right?"
Winter's hands curled into fists. "He doesn't let me do anything! I can do whatever I want to because I don't belong to him." Winter wasn't shouting but it damn close.
"Watch your tone with me," Jack bristled and the fight died down visibly as he slumped onto the bed. "This is how things are. Deal with it."
Maybe it was cold but Jack didn't know what else he could say. Winter laid still for a long moment before he sat up suddenly. Jack tried to ignore the moisture glimmering in his blue gray eyes — tears he hadn't shed yet.
"Does the Commander miss me?"
"Probably," Jack said hollowly. "But we won't know until we see him, right?"
Winter not-so-subtly wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up.
"Okay, let's see the Commander."
Jack could have cried in relief. That dopey smile was back and that meant Winter was somewhat happy for the time being.
"Let's see the Commander," he muttered in agreement.
The office was an addition that Jack made to keep Brock from taking over the entire dining room with his work crap and piss poor attitude. At least now he could close the door on it. For the guy who hated working behind a desk he spent a lot of time making it his own. Jack knocked on the door and Brock told him to fuck off.
Jack cast a sideways look at Winter who offered an excited grin. He rocked forward a bit desperate to burst in and bother Brock who always put his work aside long enough to chat for a minute or two. But he always waited for permission — why did Steve have so much trouble containing him?
"Go ahead."
"Hi Commander!"
Brock jumped a bit as the door hit the filing cabinet. "Christ," he nearly upturned his coffee cup and shot them a glare. "What part of fuck off was lost on you Jack?"
"Jack said I could stay." Winter said, a touch of hesitance in his voice.
It was only a little agitating how he acted like Brock had complete control over everything that happened in the house. More often than not it went the other way.
"Of course he did." Brock grumbled. "What's up?"
Winter's eyes flickered toward the ceiling a moment before the phrase clicked.
"Nothing." Jack was almost proud — clueless Winter keying on common phrases.
Brock grunted and something on the laptop screen lit up. Brock cursed and Winter leaned closer to the screen. "Can I help?"
"No." He made a shooing motion at Winter. "Go help Jack. I'll see you later."
Winter bobbed his head obediently and left Brock alone.
Winter wasn’t interested in helping Jack change the oil and replace power steering fluid instead heading for the stairs. That wasn’t altogether unusual but Jack had nagging worry in the back of his head as he headed for the garage.
•• •• •• ••
The hard questions came around occasionally, a brief recollection spawned original thought from Winter that he shamelessly inquired about. Jack preferred the ones about those they had killed. He always glossed over that part, the part where the Soldier crushed a skull or snapped a neck or pulled the trigger. Other times Winter had tough questions — the ones that made Jack feel a bit queasy.
And unfortunately it seemed to be one of those visits. Winter was uncharacteristically reserved, his usual chipper attitude far more reserved. He tucked himself away in his room and the house was quiet. It was the odd ones that it bothered Jack so much, typically he yearned for silence when Winter was around but actually getting it felt wrong.
“Maybe I oughta check on him?”
“Something happened with Rogers.”
An afternoon cup of coffee was their standing date. Jack was frowning thoughtfully. Rogers had been fine on the phone, saying that Winter wanted to come by. It hadn’t occurred to him to inquire further into it — as far as he was concerned the less time talking to Rogers the better. But when it came to Winter…
It was impossible not to feel a sense of responsibility.
“He asked if we miss him,” Jack confessed. “And if he could stay here.”
Brock shook his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. Despite everything they’d been through and all the changes they had made, he still styled his hair the same way.
“I wish things on that elevator went differently. I don’t give a shit about Insight but if Rogers was outta the picture…”
Jack shared the sentiment but he still shook his head. “That’s not exactly helpful.”
“No, but it would be nice, don’t you think?”
Jack laughed. Sometimes it was the only way to cope with knowing that you had wasted years of your life and they were simply making up for lost time. But they weren’t reminiscing, they were trying to reconcile with the biggest mistakes of their lives. He didn’t feel bad about the people he killed but facing Winter filled him with the sort of nagging guilt he could never rid himself of. They had created Winter, they had taken an empty shell of a man and somehow made him into a person. So yes, they were very much responsible.
“Alright, I’ll go see if I can snap him out of it.”
Brock got up from the table and Jack followed.
Winter’s door was open and he was hunched over the desk writing rapidly. Jack rapped his knuckles against the doorframe and Winter didn’t move.
“Hey, Win.” Brock stepped into the room. “What are you working on?”
“A letter.” Winter mumbled, eyes still glued on the page.
“Oh yeah? Who’re you sending it to?”
“No one. It’s for the Soldier. And Bucky.”
Jack wondered when the Soldier came around. Rogers never shipped him off their way but that made sense considering their inability to believe that they didn’t have anything to do with Hydra anymore.
“Will you let me read it?” Brock was inspecting the room, never one for really standing still.
“It’s classified.”
Brock snorted quietly at that, his finger resting on one of the stones he had given Winter for Christmas. “I’m the Commander, right?”
“Clint says that you’re not really.” He rose his head a bit to shoot Brock and apologetic look. “But I call you commander because I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Jack was sure that stung but Brock schooled his features.
“So it’s classified.” He finally parked himself into the edge of the bed. “How about you give me a debrief of what happened before you came here.”
Winter hunched down further and the sound of him writing ceased. “Steve doesn’t like me.”
Jack’s hold on the doorframe tightened and his jaw clenched. If only he had pulled that trigger…
“What makes you say that.”
“He yelled at me. I was just trying to help the Soldier. I didn’t mean to scare Dr Banner, I just wanted to say hi. And-and Clint was going to bring me to the aquarium to see real live squids and now he’s just bringing Natasha.”
Winter spit her name like it burned his mouth and Jack found that just a bit amusing. He didn’t know he was capable of disliking anyone but clearly he had learned.
“What were you helping the Soldier with?”
“It wanted to find the blind spots in security — y’know in case Hydra wants us back — and he didn’t get to finish because Bucky needed to wake up.”
Oh. Jack and Brock exchanged eye contact.
“Winnie, you can’t help the Soldier like that. Steve… He won’t trust you anymore. Did you tell him?”
“I told Tony.”
Jack wasn’t sure where Stark stood with Winter but Winter has happily shown an updated photo frame with a picture of him, Stark in an oil stained tank top and some robot with a party hat.
“Winter you know what Hydra did was wrong right?” Brock asked.
“The Soldier writes about Hydra a lot! He says that fascism is the only way. Bucky doesn’t agree but I like the idea of everyone being safe — don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what we believe. But you don’t want to go down that hole, Winter. The only way to achieve that is to hurt a lot of people. Millions.”
Winter’s eyes widened. “But the Soldier says — ”
“The Soldier was created by Hydra. Of course he would think that they were right.”
“It.”
“What?”
“The Soldier is a machine, not a person. It doesn’t like to be called he.”
Brock sighed heavily in annoyances. “Okay. Right. Well, it is going to try and sell you on how great Hydra was but you know how they really are.”
Winter frowned down at the page. “The Soldier says I’m too emotional to see the greater good.”
“There is no greater good.”
“Then why did you join?”
Brock was quiet a moment, lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I joined because I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my life or anyone else’s. I was angry and felt under appreciated. It made me a good killer. It made me a good handler.”
“You were nice to me,” Winter nodded. “You were the best handler.”
“I didn’t handle you the same way I did the Soldier. I wasn’t very nice to him — I mean, it.”
Winter frowned deeply. “It says you were the best handler.”
“Maybe because I wasn’t as cruel as everyone else. I still was far from nice.”
Winter looked down at the letter and the room was silent. “I really wanted to see the squids.”
“Maybe next time, kid. Are you gonna stay in here or do you want to use the weed wacker?”
Winter’s eyes lit up. “You’d let me?”
“Sure.” Brock shrugged. “I trust you.”
It wasn’t live squids but at least it made him smile.