Chapter Text
Join the army. Be all you that can be. Fight for your country, your home, your family. Have something to tell your grandkids.
It all sounds good on paper.
‘Of course’, Bucky thought as he sat in what looked like a spacious interrogation room with his right arm shackled to a table, ‘they never tell you about witnessing the deaths of your friends and allies, or the possibility of being captured and tortured. Or that you could end up as a brainwashed Soviet assassin who tries to kill his best friend’. It wasn’t exactly something that would boost troop morale.
The former Winter Soldier had a lot of blood on his hands. Recalling the vents before he got his memories back, he felt relieved that none of it had been Steve’s. Bucky had enough nightmares to deal with; the last thing he needed was to see his friend among the corpses that invaded his dreams.
A quick glance at his left side reminded him that it was bare; Stark’s men that removed his bionic arm from its socket after bringing him to the Helicarrier. It felt weird to see his left side devoid of an arm, but it wasn’t the first time Bucky had been treated to that sight. He did miss his original arm, but the artificial one did have its uses.
Stark probably had a team of scientists examining it, trying to find out how it worked and where it was made. They didn’t know that he could call to it from afar using his cybernetic implants – although they would know now, as he could feel his bionic appendage approaching. Bucky sat in silence as the arm came through the air duct, falling down on the floor with a thud. It reminded him of a horror flick he saw in an old movie theatre with Steve, where a severed hand became alive and terrorized a small town. As the metallic extremity crawled on top of the table to free his arm from its shackles, Bucky let out a short, silent laugh. That movie had scared him for weeks, despite the things he had seen on the battlefield, and even now his nightmares sometimes contained a severed hand that strangled people to death. When Steve had found out, Bucky had been on the receiving end of some good-natured teasing from his friend.
He briefly wondered if Stark had nightmares about Steve. ‘He damn well should’, Bucky thought angrily as he attached his artificial arm to its socket, ‘it’s his fault that Steve is dead’.
And Bucky was ready to repay the favor.
“If you’re reading this, things have gone worse than either of us expected… “
Tony looked at the piece of paper in front of him for what he believed was the hundredth time. He had dealt with a lot of things in his life: losing his company to Obadiah Stane, ending up homeless, alcoholism, being shot in the back by a crazy ex-girlfriend, heart conditions – the list was long and filled with dubious content. Suffice to say, Tony wasn’t a stranger to having his world turned upside down.
He could, however, say with absolute certainty that he never expected such an event to involve Steve’s last request.
Save Bucky from himself, Steve had written. America needs a Captain. Steve had obviously thought that Bucky would be the right man for the job, but Tony wasn’t really sure. The man was an ex-assassin. Sure, he looked like he was able – when Natasha and Sam had brought Bucky in, Tony had noticed the man’s physique, no doubt shaped by years of training – and he already had the shield. Tony just wasn’t sure about his mental state. The last thing he and this country needed was a psychotic Captain America. ‘Or rather,’ Tony corrected himself, ‘another psychotic Captain America’.
Tony had seen Bucky many times, before and during the superhero civil war. Steve had once described him in length during their time as Avengers as an enthusiastic kid who had fought alongside Captain America for their country and its people, acting as a role model for the American youth. Steve had never gotten over failing to save Bucky, and Tony guessed that this was his way of making amends.
*Tony?* Sam’s image came up on one of the screens in his office, with the man being in mid-flight, Redwing following him around as usual.
“I’m here. Any sign of Faustus?” Tony asked. He had sent the Falcon to scout for Faustus a couple of hours ago, after letting him rest for a while.
*Nothing. I’m going to be flying over the south side soon, but if I can’t spot him there, I don’t know what else I can do.*
Neither did Tony. “Just…keep on looking,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to find him before something happens to Sharon.”
*I’m not a miracle worker, Tony.*
“I know.” Tony could see skyscrapers in the background, so Sam had to be flying over a densely populated area. Unless Faustus’ aircraft had some form of stealth mode, Tony figured that it would be easy to find, especially if civilians had spotted it.
*How is Bucky? Still unconscious?*
“No, he’s conscious, but I haven’t talked to him yet, Sam. Natasha thinks it might be better if she makes the first move…with their history and all.”
*Be careful,* Sam said. *We don’t know what those sick freaks did to him.*
“I can take care of myself, Sam.”
Tony was pretty sure that Sam was trying hard not to scowl. *It’s not you I am worried about, Tony,” Sam said. “That kid was important to Steve, so now he’s important to me.*
‘Gee’, Tony thought, ‘no hidden hostilities there’.
“Do you really think I need to be reminded of that?” Tony asked, shoulders tensing. He resisted the urge to yell, knowing that it would get him nowhere. Steve had been his best friend and confidante for years. They had fought together and saved each others lives on numerous occasions. And now people thought that he didn’t give a shit about Steve, or that he didn’t feel guilt over his death at every waking moment. Tony half expected Luke Cage to stand in the middle of Times Square shouting that Tony was a heartless bastard. “Look, just focus on tracking Faustus and his people…and finding Sharon. Let me worry about Bucky-“
Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence as the power went out, and the room was in covered in darkness.
*Let me worry about Bucky-*
That was all Tony could say before communications were cut.
“Tony? Tony!” Sam instinctively knew that this wasn’t something good. “Damn it…”
Beside him, Redwing let out a cry. Sam didn’t need an empathic link to understand it. “I know, buddy. Let’s go.”
The hollow voice of the computer rang loud and clear in Tony’s ears as the light went back on.
[Power grid fluctuations on levels two, three and seven…]
Tony swore. The power had gone out for only a few seconds, but it was apparently enough to mess with the monitors in his office. His communication with Sam had been cut short, and all he got now was static.
“Damn it,” he said, moving to his desk and pressing a button on the intercom. “Natasha, what’s going on down there? Comms are spotty through the whole level and there’s no video feed.” Tony hoped that the intercom would be working properly, at least. Extremis wasn’t picking up any visuals or audio signals from the Helicarrier surveillance systems. If surveillance was cut, Bucky could be anywhere, and Tony didn’t know what Bucky would do if freed. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were trained for combat, but Tony didn’t think that they would pose much of a threat to Bucky.
‘Damn, he’s probably escaped from the interrogation room,’ Tony thought as a small amount of panic started to settle in his mind. ‘Don’t let anyone be hurt, don’t let anyone be hurt...’
Natasha’s voice broke his train of thought. *The lights went out for a second and now all my screens are static. I’m heading out, Tony.*
“Get me a sit-rep,” Tony said, taking of his shirt and mentally commanding the inner layers of his armor to cover his body. The gold-colored material quickly formed the interfacing undersheath. “I’m on my way.” He had to move quickly to make sure that Bucky was still detained, even though he knew that Bucky wouldn’t waste a perfect chance to escape.
Apparently, Natasha was able to read minds. Or at least Tony’s mind. He briefly wondered how transparent he was. *Tony, I was just looking right at him, I’m sure it’s-* There was a moment of silence. Tony didn’t like it. Cut-off sentences meant bad news. *-I’ve got six agents down. All still breathing, though.* Damn it. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.
“And the Winter Soldier?” Tony already knew the answer to this one. Six agents down could only mean one thing.
Tony heard Natasha mumble something, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He was just about to ask her about it when she spoke. *He’s in the wind, Tony…you had better watch your back.*
“Right, I’ll do that; meanwhile, you try to contact Sam and tell him to keep looking for Faustus,” Tony ordered, closing the channel after Natasha. He would handle Bucky, but they could not afford to let Faustus slip between their fingers. He ordered Extremis to open another channel, this time to all communications – they needed to find Bucky, and fast.
“All stations, this is Director Stark. We have a 227 red alert,” Tony said, hoping that all personnel on deck would get the message. “Fugitive on board. Approach with caution, or not at all. Use of lethal force is not, I repeat, not approved.” Tony hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to it himself. Steve would never forgive him if he did.
As a system message alerted him about a fluctuation in the power grid, Tony moved quickly through the large corridors, stopping to give another message. “I need this man-“ A movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention, and he raised his head towards a walkway. “-alive.” Bucky.
The punch hit Tony before he could react, and he was knocked back by the force of the blow.
‘I guess he doesn’t need me alive.’
The agents pointed their machine pistols, at Bucky, who looked at them with a smirk. There were six of them, and they all looked nervous. One of the agents, a young man who didn’t look a day older than 24, was shaking slightly.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Bucky taunted, moving closer. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not going to work.”
The young agent was now shaking violently, his face pale, and the agent who had spoken earlier tightened his grip on the firearm. “I-I said stop!”
Bucky could hear footsteps in the distance as it echoed in the adjacent corridors, and he knew that it was either Natasha or another agent looking for him. This was taking too long. “Tough luck.”
One of the agents gasped; Bucky saw that the scared young agent had passed out. The agent pointing the firearm at him turned his head sideways to see what was going on, and that was all Bucky needed to act.
He lunged forward, bionic arm hitting the agent’s jaw, knocking him unconscious. The other agents tried to aim at him, and Bucky kicked one in the stomach, then utilizing their momentary shocked state to grab two other agents and slam their heads together, letting them drop down on the floor. The last agent looked at him with wide-eyed panic before charging at him; Bucky sidestepped and struck the back of the agent’s head with his real hand, incapacitating him. The man fell down on the floor, firearm skidding across the corridor. He picked up the young agents pistol, strapping it to his back. Bucky didn’t like to admit it, but it felt good to have a weapon in his hands.
Bucky could hear the footsteps coming closer, and moved away from the corridor. He could faintly hear Natasha’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Those agents were only unconscious – at least that was what Bucky hoped. He only wanted one man dead today. Bucky knew that Steve wouldn’t have liked what he planned to do; then again, Steve was dead, all because Tony Stark turned him into an easy target. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to bury Steve with his shield.
As he approached a walkway, Bucky heard the echo of metal on metal. He moved closer – and saw Stark standing in the corridor below, faceplate up, talking. Bucky silently approached the edge, ready to jump.
“I need this man-“
Taking advantage of Stark’s inattentive state, Bucky jumped down, metal fist ready to strike, and he saw the man looking up at him.
“-alive.”
Bucky’s fist connected with Stark’s armored shoulder, knocking him back but leaving him uninjured. His attack had deliberately hit the armor; Bucky didn’t want to hit Stark’s uncovered face and end it too quickly.
“You actually brought me up here?” Bucky sneered, preparing his arm for an EMP attack. If he could short-circuit that damn armor, Stark would be helpless. “How stupid are you?”
“Not stupid at all, kid,” Stark said, smirking, and the superior tone of voice made Bucky grind his teeth in anger. He’d wipe that smirk off Stark’s face. Quickly moving forward, he grabbed Stark’s armor-clad arm, activating the EMP. There was a flash of light, and electric sounds could be heard.
And Stark was still standing, no damage done. Bucky was sure that his EMP had worked, but now Stark was looking at him, faceplate covering the smirk Bucky was sure Stark had plastered on his face. He pushed Bucky backwards.
“Like, don’t you think I’d know how to get around an electromagnetic pulse by this point in my career?” Stark asked, following up his question with a repulsor blast that knocked Bucky away. They were on an elevated part of the Helicarrier, with helicopters in the hangar beneath them; Bucky found himself on the floor next to a chopper, with Stark descending from above. “So, do you really want to waste both our time like this, or can we act like adults and-“
Bucky didn’t let Stark finish his sentence; he lunged forward, hitting Stark with a punch to his groin that Steve had once dubbed ‘the man-beater’ (Bucky still remembered how Toro had cringed at that), which would have incapacitated the man had he not been inside his armor.
‘You want to fight dirty? Well, so do I’, Bucky thought as he reached for the machine pistol, aiming it at Stark’s armor-clad form.
“Cut it out. This isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Stark said, the metallic hollowness of voice echoing in the hangar. “You can’t hurt me, kid.”
‘Oh, yeah?’
Bucky pulled the trigger.
Tony was amazed at how many bullets a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation gun could produce. They hit his armor and the panels behind him. Tony knew that the bullets wouldn’t be able to damage him directly, but Bucky didn’t look like someone who would be stopped by that fact.
“Seriously. Don’t do this,” Tony said, firing a repulsor blast. Bucky dodged the attack, and the blast hit one of the choppers. The panels behind him were crackling with electricity, and there were pieces of metal and debris all over the hangar.
Damage control is going to cost an arm and a leg. Perfect. Just what I needed.
Tony fired off another repulsor blast, which Bucky narrowly dodged. He lunged forward while Tony was preparing another blast, grabbing the armor.
“Why don’t you-“ Bucky said, tightening his grip on the armor, “-shove it!” Tony found himself forcefully pushed backwards, onto the exposed wires in the destroyed panels behind him. The surge of electricity hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of him. The sudden pain was blinding, and Tony let out a scream as he fell down to the ground.
[ENERGY FIELD OVERLOAD]
“All right…” Tony said, recovering from the pain. “That’s enough.”
[ARMOR RECHARGING. 82 PERCENT POWER]
The repulsors were ready, and Tony tried to stand up straight, tilting his head up when he had movement. Bucky was lunging at him with a primal growl; for a split second, Tony was afraid. Bucky wouldn’t stop until either he or Tony died, two outcomes that weren’t desirable.
Evading another blast with what Spider-Man would have described as a “kick-ass ninja move”, Bucky managed to get behind him, grabbing his head while simultaneously dragging him down. Tony knew that Bucky would have a hard time snapping his neck while he was in the armor, bionic arm or not, and something told him that Bucky already knew this. If Steve had been telling the truth, Bucky was a pretty decent tactician during World War II. Tony expected another EMP, or a – literally – crushing grip on his neck.
What he didn’t expect was for Bucky to hook his metal fingers under his faceplate and start pulling.
[HELMET INTEGRITY WARNING – 40 PERCENT PRESSURE]
“Hey, what are you doing?” Tony asked.
Bucky let out a roar, and pulled the armor’s faceplate off, throwing it away.
[HELMET INTEGRITY COMPROMISED]
Tony panicked. He hadn’t expected Bucky to do this. “Damn it!” Tony directed two repulsor blasts at his back while getting up, hoping to knock Bucky off balance and get the upper hand. Instead, he felt a blow to the back of his armored knees; the blow was strong enough to make Tony lose his balance and topple backwards, falling on his back. Bucky rolled to the side, and when Tony was on the ground, Bucky was leaning over him, the S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation machine pistol aimed at his face. Bucky planted his knees on either side of Tony, and looked at him with contempt.
“Now,” Bucky said, grinding his teeth, “what was that about not being able to hurt you?”
Tony had to think fast; the situation had escalated, and he didn’t want it to be out of control. The repulsors were almost ready to fire again – the only thing Tony needed was to keep Bucky distracted for another second or two.
“You’re good, Bucky,” Tony said, slowly raising his gauntlets, “and quick on your feet in a fight. I’m glad to see that…”
Tony raised his arms, resting his gauntlets at either side of Bucky’s head, repulsors ready to strike. “But if you even move an inch, I’m going to liquefy your brain right in your head.” Bucky was silent, and Tony was surprisingly calm for someone who had a gun pointed at his face. Years of being an Avenger tended to have that effect on you.
The blue light from the repulsor gauntlets illuminated Bucky’s face, and Tony got a good look at him. Technically, Bucky was older than Tony (much like the way Steve was older than Tony, but still…not), but in the light cast by his gauntlets, Bucky looked very young, like he was in his late twenties, which Tony supposed Bucky was, biologically. He had a strong face, made pale by the light from his gauntlets; Tony would describe it as handsome, with a chiseled jaw and a few days worth of stubble. It was the kind of face that Tony would find very attractive, and for the briefest of moments Tony wanted to touch it; to feel the cheekbones with the tips of his fingers, let them glide across that jaw line.
Bucky reminded him of Steve, but at the same time he didn’t. The features were somewhat alike; but while Steve’s face had been open and honest - with emotions that were clearly displayed on his face - Bucky had the face of someone who had been trained to keep emotions in check, someone who didn’t trust anybody. Tony wanted to see emotions displayed on Bucky’s face, strong emotions evoked by his touch and Tony wasn’t sure where the hell that particular train of thought was going. Apparently, being held at gunpoint by an attractive man straddling him was turning out to be a major turn-on. It didn’t really surprise Tony – he had had weirder urges.
'Get your act together, Tony. This is no time for thoughts like these.'
Bucky was still looking at him, gun aimed at Tony’s forehead. Tony lowered his gauntlets, and looked him straight in the eyes. “I really don’t want to do that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m trying to honor the wishes of a dead friend.”
Bucky’s grip on the machine pistol loosened slightly, but Tony noted that his finger never left the trigger.
“That’s why I brought you here…because Steve Rogers asked me to save you from yourself.”
At that, Bucky’s expression changed; it became more vulnerable, more questioning. The firearm was still aimed at Tony’s forehead, but he no longer held it with a white-knuckled grip.
“I know you hate me because of his death, and I understand that,” Tony said in a low voice while maintaining eye contact, “but I have a letter you need to read. And honestly…Steve would never forgive us if we killed each other, would he?”
There was a moment of silence before Bucky got up, the arm holding the machine pistol being lowered to rest at his side. He stood there, looking at Tony with something akin to shock and confusion. The news of Steve’s last request seemed to have stunned him, and Tony knew how that felt.
The faceplate was lying next to him; Tony would have to reattach it later. For now, he removed his helmet completely before picking up the faceplate and standing up. The helicopter hangar was a mess.
'I’ll get someone to clean this up later,' Tony thought. He had to show Bucky the letter, and get this whole thing over with.
“Follow me.”
Natasha ran through the Helicarrier corridors, a group of soldiers right behind her. She had tried to reach Tony, but all she got was silence. Tony never turned off communications. Considering that his brain was now a supercomputer, Natasha wasn’t sure if he could turn it off, which could only mean that Tony was too distracted to answer her call. James must have reached him, and Tony hadn’t contacted her in the last fifteen minutes. Natasha checked her tracking signal detector – Tony was in his office. She needed to hurry.
Natasha picked up the pace. “Let’s go! The computer says they moved the fight to the director’s office!” The soldiers followed suit, firearms ready. “Remember, non-lethal shots only, people!” She didn’t want to have to shoot – or kill – James, but she would do so if it meant saving Tony.
She was approaching the director’s office, and could discern two shapes; one seemed to be sitting down. Natasha prepared her gun, and rushed through the entrance.
“Freeze! Hold it right-“
James was sitting at Tony’s desk, looking at her.
“-there…?” Natasha said, confused. Tony seemed to be all right; he had his helmet off, and looked a bit haggard, but otherwise fine. James turned his attention to a piece of paper in his hand. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Tony turned to face her. “It’s okay, Natasha. I’m fine.”
“So I see…I suppose.”
“You can stay; the rest of you, return to your stations.” Tony said, turning his attention back to Buk, who was still looking at the piece of paper. James’s eyes darted from left to right, indicating that he was reading whatever was written on the paper.
“What the hell is going on here, Tony?” Natasha asked, her voice tinged with irritation. She had just spent the last ten minutes being worried about finding Tony dead, and here he was, standing around James like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Tony looked like he was about to answer, but James beat him to it. “It’s a letter,” he said, tilting his head so that he could look at Natasha, “from Steve Rogers.” She had never heard him like this; so unsure, almost scared.
“Oh…” Natasha said, thinking. A letter from Steve? The man was dead. That could only mean-
A last request.
“Oh.”
Captain America.
Steve wanted him to be Captain America.
Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the letter. Natasha was standing in front of him, and Stark was at his side, looking at him expectantly. He had read the letter twice, and it still made no sense. How could Steve want him to be Captain America? It hadn’t been that long ago since he was the Winter Soldier. He had too much emotional baggage to be Captain America, something that Bucky knew Steve was aware of.
“So, is this legitimate?” Bucky asked Stark, secretly hoping that it wouldn’t be. He didn’t want his best friend’s last request hanging over him, but Bucky knew he wasn’t ready for the title. There was a good chance that he’d never be ready for it.
“I may be capable of a lot of things, but I wouldn’t fake something like that. It’s authentic, and the lawyer who delivered it is clean.” Stark said, and Bucky felt his last ounce of hope inside him die. That meant that this was real. Steve had written this.
Stark continued, arms crossed, expression serious. “Now, are you ready to set aside our problems and find the man who really got Steve killed – the Red Skull? Because this plot goes deeper than you know, kid.” Bucky had to control the urge to point out that he was, in fact, older than Stark. “He’s compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. already and I have no idea what his final goals are.”
“That’s because he’s been right in front of us the whole time,” Bucky said, looking at Stark. The man looked tired – not from the fight, but from everything else. “He’s Lukin or…I don’t know, somehow he’s in Lukin’s head.” Just thinking about it gave him a headache.
Stark’s expression changed from weary to slightly confused, and then the man turned pale.
“Aleksander Lukin is the Red Skull?” Tony’s voice had risen by an octave. Apparently, this was all news to him.
“I know him,” Natasha said. “He’s got his own private army, with that corporation of his…Kronas.”
“Yeah, but what he plans to with them is-“ Bucky started, but was interrupted by Stark. A number of screens appeared, every one of them filled with static. Stark had moved forward, his armor-clad feet making a dull sound against the carpets as he walked.
“No. Neither of you understand…the news came in during our fight.”
Natasha sat on the glass desk while Stark ordered the computers to find any recent news relating to Lukin. She was still as beautiful as Bucky remembered; her crimson hair - shorter than he remembered it – framed her beautiful face, and her black uniform clung to her every curve, leaving very little to the imagination. Bucky still found himself attracted to her, but the love he felt so many years ago had disappeared. He wasn’t even sure if those emotions were his own, or implanted by his Soviet taskmasters.
As he was turning his head back towards the screens, he caught Stark looking at him; when Bucky met his eyes, Stark turned his head immediately, as if he was startled by something. He didn’t understand Stark’s motives or intentions, and didn’t want to try. Bucky shifted his focus back on the screens, now filled with images.
All of them were showing news reports on Aleksander Lukin’s death.
“That’s because he’s been right in front of us the whole time.” Bucky had said, gaze fixed on Tony; the same gaze that had held murderous intent only a few moments ago. The unshaven appearance was a good look for him, Tony noted. Coupled with the black leather and metal arm, it made him look…tough. Powerful. Dangerous.
The feeling of attraction hit Tony again. He had no idea where the hell these thoughts came from, and right now, it was the last thing he needed to think about.
“He’s Lukin or…I don’t know, somehow he’s in Lukin’s head.”
Tony froze. Lukin? But Lukin was dead. Extremis had supplied Tony with reports about Aleksander Lukin dying in a plane crash during their fight, when Bucky was trying to punch his lights out, but he had been a bit too preoccupied to pay them any attention.
“Aleksander Lukin is the Red Skull?” Tony asked, voice rising. The Skull wouldn’t die because of an accident. Supervillains had a habit of cheating death, and they tended to go out with a bang preceded by a long, boring monologue about how their plans failed thanks to whoever was there at the time. The Red Skull, dying in a plane crash? ‘Unlikely,’ Tony thought. The Skull wouldn’t let something happen to the body he shared.
And that could only mean one thing; the Skull was alive. They had to deal with him fast.
Tony briefly registered Natasha saying something, and Bucky replying, before deciding to speak up. Apparently, neither Bucky nor Natasha knew about Lukin’s “death”. He moved forward to stand in front of his desk, commanding Extremis to open up a bunch of screens.
“No,” Tony said, and the two looked at him. “Neither of you understand…the news came in during our fight.”
“Computer, news feed channels. Search subject: Lukin.” Tony said, and the computer started to search for news. Images were beginning to pop up on the screens; they were slightly distorted, but Tony could still see the headlines about the crash.
[Searching all news feed…]
While the computer was assembling the news reports from earlier, Tony sneaked a look at Bucky. The soldier’s gaze was fixed on Natasha, who had her back turned to him; Tony couldn’t decipher Bucky’s expression. The man seemed to have an impressive poker face when he wasn’t angry and holding a gun to Tony’s head. He pegged Bucky as someone who showed either no emotion, or too much emotion. No middle ground.
He didn’t have more time to ponder, as Bucky decided to look at the computer screens and caught Tony’s gaze, hazel eyes meeting blue.. They were quite beautiful to look at, and Tony had to stop himself from losing himself in them. He quickly faced forward, feeling a neck spasm from the sudden movement. This was dangerous territory. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, an ex-assassin who had tried to put a bullet through Tony’s skull less than an hour ago.
'Stay focused. Do what Steve wanted you to do, and then it’s over.'
News reports from CNN were being played on the computer screens; footage of the destroyed aircraft intersected with pictures of Lukin and stock charts showing a decline in the market.
“…tragic news today for international energy conglomerate, the Kronas Corporation, as a corporate jet goes down over the Atlantic. Among the bodies recovered in the wreckage was reclusive CEO Aleksander Lukin, who founded the company after a self-imposed exile from his native Russia…”
The three remained silent for a couple of minutes while the news report finished discussing the consequences of Lukin’s death on the company stock.
Tony would have rubbed his hands together in glee if he had been alone. People would abandon Kronas like rats on a sinking ship once the stock value dropped, and hopefully buy stocks in Stark Solutions.
Bucky was the first one to break the silence, sounding confused. “It’s a trick,” he said, eyes fixed on the nearest screen, face slightly pale. “He’s not dead. He can’t be-”
“I know that now,” Tony said, interrupting Bucky mid-sentence. They didn’t have time for this. “He had to cover his trail when we got our hands on you. And that means whatever the Skull is planning, it’s going to start soon.”
Bucky had lowered his head, Steve’s letter in front of him. Tony decided to press on. “So. Are you going to step up here, or not?”
“…They’ve got Steve’s girl: your Agent 13.”
“I know. It was her we were trying to save when we found you.” And in the grand scheme of things, Tony guessed that it happening like this was for the best. They’d rescue Sharon, make Bucky the new Captain America and Tony wouldn’t have to worry about Steve visiting him like the Ghost from Friendships Past because Tony let him down again.
He almost cringed at the thought.
“Now answer the question.”
Stark was looking at him expectantly, and Natasha had a look of sympathy on her face; Bucky knew that she must have glanced at the letter, reading the sentences upside down without letting anyone see that she did. It was one of the most basic skills that even low-level spies had little difficulty mastering, and Natasha was the finest spy in the world.
Sharon had been kidnapped, the Skull was alive and Steve wanted him to be the next Captain America. Bucky wasn’t sure when the world had gone mad, but he didn’t like it. Any of it.
He had looked up to Steve, admired him and thought of him as a brother. And then he tried to kill him. Bucky might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but he knew that he wasn’t right for the role.
“Look, Steve didn’t say that I should-“
Stark interrupted him, arms crossed and the look of a man who reached the end of his patience plastered on his face. “I know exactly what he wrote. But it’s not as if you’re going to let someone else be that guy. And you’ve read that letter, what…twice? I’ve read it a hundred times. Do you want to be the one to let him down? Because I know what that feels like.”
'I bet you do,' Bucky thought, but he could see Stark’s point. Bucky didn’t want to disappoint Steve any more than Stark did. He had his reservations about the whole concept of someone other than Steve taking up the mantle, but his friend had specifically wanted him to be the next Captain America, and had even gone so far as to ask someone who had hunted him down and paraded him on the steps to parliament like a common criminal, to make sure it happened.
And Stark was right; Bucky didn’t want someone else to parade around in Steve’s old uniform or use his shield. Steve might not have been the only Captain America, but he was the first and would always be the Captain America to Bucky, no matter what. Taking up the mantle wouldn’t change that.
Bucky couldn’t let the shield fall in to someone else’s hands. He might not have been ready, but Bucky knew that there was no other option.
Running his fingers though his hair in frustration, Bucky sighed, tilting his head up to see Stark and Natasha exchange worried glance. Natasha was probably worried about him, but Bucky knew that Stark was afraid that he would decline. The room was silent, the only sound audible being the scrape of the chair as Bucky stood up.
“All right,” he said, and Stark looked at him intently while Natasha averted her gaze, “I’ll do it…on two conditions.”
Stark looked like was about to speak, mouth opening slowly, but the man stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Bucky. It felt a little off-putting. “First, I want you to do whatever you can, probe my mind,” he said, pointing at his head as if to make himself clearer, “to make sure that no one else can ever control me again. Make sure there’s no more Winter Soldier safe-words or implants.”
“Of course. I got men standing by right now to start running those tests. What’s the second condition?”
‘Huh,’ Bucky thought. Stark was prepared. The man knew that Bucky would not ignore Steve’s last wishes, and it made him feel manipulated. He didn’t want Stark pulling the strings; no one pulled Steve’s strings when he was Captain America, and the same would apply to Bucky. “I don’t answer to you…or to anyone. Steve didn’t, and neither will I. That’s the only way it works.” He was sure Stark understood; the man might be rotten, but he was no fool. If Stark decided to play puppet master, he was in for a nasty surprise, and Bucky was certain that Stark knew that.
As Stark was pondering on Bucky’s demand, Bucky decided to study the man standing in front of him, with this downcast eyes and tired visage. He had seen Stark’s face many times in various newspapers and magazines that he had picked up during his…missions, and Bucky was almost surprised at how pale the man looked compared to the full-page spreads. Stark hadn’t been this pale during the whole “civil war”; Bucky deduced that recent events - most likely Steve’s death - that had led to Stark’s currently haggard state.
It made Bucky feel good in a vindictive way. Stark might not have shot Steve, but he had turned him into a walking target. Stark deserved to feel bad.
Stark had lowered his hand, and was looking at Bucky again. Natasha had been silent throughout the entire exchange. Her posture was rigid, but Bucky could see the fingers of her left hand drum against her leg. Outside the office, two guards were standing by the doors, but Bucky paid them no mind as Stark opened his mouth to answer him.
“Okay. I can live with that.”