Chapter Text
Clint’s nightmares are normally cold with an ominous blue tint. This time, everything is red.
He’s surrounded by young girls, all shooting at targets. They train for hours, any slight mistake is punished. The cries of the injured girls make Clint's hands shake but he doesn’t miss a single shot. Eventually, when they're on the brink of exhaustion, they’re let out of the room single file. As they walk down the sterile white hallway, Clint briefly spots his reflection in one of the metallic doors. He didn’t get a good look, but he could have sworn that his reflection had red hair.
Clint jolts awake and his first thought is that he needs to find Natasha. He reaches for his hearing aids but finds them missing. Confused, he turns around to find a doppelganger of himself sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed.
‘Jesus Christ!’ He practically leaps out of his skin.
‘Relax.’ The doppelganger assures him. ‘I know it’s weird.’ He looks Clint up and down, nose wrinkling.
‘....Nat?’ Clint asks, recognising the facial expression of his best friend.
‘Yep.’
‘...You look like me.’
‘I’m not the only one.’
Confused, Clint looks down to find he has a very different body. ‘Aw fuck.’ He mutters to himself.
‘Could have been worse.’ Nat shrugs. ‘If I have to have anyone invading my body, I’m glad it's you.’
‘Ditto.’ Clint gives her a weak smile. ‘... Did you have weird dreams too?’
‘I saw your dad.’ She tells him apologetically. ‘And glimpses of the circus. Then…’
Clint shudders. ‘Loki.’ He sighs, resting the back of his head against the bed frame. ‘Yeah, I’m glad it’s you in my body, Red. Did you manage the hearing aids okay?’
‘I’ve watched you put them in a million times, I know how to do it.’ Natasha shrugs. ‘Why am I so tired though?’
‘That, my friend, is the caffeine dependance.’ Clint laughs. ‘Come on, let’s get you caffeinated.’
After they get suitably caffeinated, Clint and Natasha decide to head to the gym to take out some of their frustrations on targets while they wait for the rest of the Avengers to wake up.
‘You’re bruising my arm.’ Natasha scowls as she watches Clint bowstring twang against his arm.
‘This is a nightmare.’ Clint scowls, lowering his bow. ‘It’s all muscle memory, but these aren't my muscles. Everything is off. Even your tits are getting in the way.’
‘I told you to put a sports bra on.’
‘I am man-handling your chest as little as possible, thank you very much.’
‘What a gentleman.’ Nat rolls her eyes. ‘Just use your guns. I have the muscle memory for that.’
‘It’s not the same, I have a brand to uphold Natasha.’ Clint whines.
‘I swear to god if you dress me in purple, I’m giving you a mohawk.’
Clint gives her a dopey grin. ‘I’d look amazing with a mohawk and you know it.’
She shrugs. ‘I’ll just shave it all off then. Or maybe get a tattoo.’
‘Well that’s just terrible body-sharing etiquette.’
‘I always thought you could use some piercings.’
Clint laughs. ‘Me too, but I didn’t want them to get in the way when I had the bulky old hearing aids.’
‘What’s stopping you now?’
‘...You’re right. I’m totally gonna get some piercings once I get my body back.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Natasha chuckles.
They both look up as Jarvis’ voice comes over the intercom. ‘Mr Stark has requested that you all meet on the common floor, as soon as possible.’
Clint rolls his eyes and puts his bow to one side. ‘Guess we’re not the only ones having a bad morning.’
***
The dreams are awful. Torture, biting cold and flashes of electricity which jar his thoughts to a stop. But the worst part is the searing pain in his arm and back when he wakes up. Everything is far too heavy and Sam grits through the pain to sit up.
‘Sam?’ A voice asks quietly.
Sam turns to find someone who looks exactly like him standing in the doorway.
He reaches for the gun he keeps under his pillow, but finds a knife in its place. After a moment he realises he isn’t even in his bed, he’s been sleeping on the floor.
‘What the fuck….?’ His head snaps up to look at the intruder.
‘I don’t know what’s going on.’ His doppleganger says, holding his hands up to show he’s unarmed.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Sam spits out.
The doppelganger pauses for a moment, a frown etched into his brow. ‘....Bucky. I’m Bucky.’
Sam stumbles up to his feet, letting the covers slip away. The weight on his left side gets worse as he moves and Sam looks down to find a solid metal arm. ‘...Oh.’ Sam whispers as the realisation hits him. ‘Oh shit.’
He looks back up at Bucky. Even though the words had come out in Sam's voice, it’s the most self-aware Sam has heard him since they brought him to the Tower.
Capturing the Winter Soldier had been nearly impossible. Bringing him back to himself was proving to be even more of a challenge. It's been a month and Bucky barely acknowledges anyone other than Steve. And even then Bucky doesn’t engage, he just sits and listens to Steve's stories with a distant, glassy look in his eyes. The only time he ever reacts is when Steve says anything that could be interpreted as an order. Sam gets the impression that Bucky sees Steve more as a handler than a friend.
‘You good man?’ Sam asks him nervously, worried about the panic he sees crossing his own face.
‘I… I don’t know.’
‘You know where you are?’
Bucky furrows his eyebrows as he thinks. ‘...Starks Tower. But not Howard… Different Stark.’
‘Yeah, Tony. You remember meeting him? Guy with the light bulb in his chest?’
After a beat of silence, Bucky nods. ‘Tony. Howard's son.’ Bucky's eyes go distant for a moment before he snaps back to attention. ‘I gotta find Stevie.’ He says, racing out of the room.
‘God damn it!’ Sam curses, stumbling after him. The metal arm really weighs him down, the pain radiates from his shoulder and shoots down his spine. As he runs, Sam wonders if something is wrong with the prosthetic or if this is just a baseline pain for Bucky. One thing is for certain, he’s getting the damn arm sorted as soon as they find Steve.
***
Steve dreams of scorching heat. An exhausting expanse of never ending dessert that he slowly trudges through. Feet getting heavier with every step. His muscles scream at him to rest and his chest is unnaturally heavy, aching at his very core. Just as he feels like he’s about to pass out, he hears the blades of a helicopter. He spins around, sinking to his knees in relief when he realises it’s a US Army copter. He’s safe.
Tony dreams of freezing cold. He plunges underwater, his lungs fill with water which freezes in his throat. Ice encases his body as he sinks further down. He tries to struggle but his limbs are trapped. As he slips from consciousness, Tony's eyes fall onto a pocket watch with an old picture of his Aunt Peggy in her WW2 days. Before he can over-think that, everything goes black.
Tony's eyes shoot open and he almost falls out of the bed when he's faced with the mirror image of himself. His clone is starting to wake and he panics. Without thinking, he grabs the clone by the shoulders, pinning him to the bed.
'Jeez!' The clone hisses in pain, his eyes flicking open.
Tony falters, he only knows one person who would say "jeez" instead of outright swearing. '...Steve?'
'Please tell me you're not an evil clone.'
'I was about to say the same thing.' Tony responds, arching an eyebrow.
‘Who?’
‘It’s Tony.’ He tells Steve, noticing for the first time that his breathing isn’t as restricted as it normally is. His hands let go of Steve's shoulders and he knocks his knuckles against his chest. No arc-reactor. Just a vast expanse of muscles. ‘...Huh.’
‘Captain Rogers.’ Jarvis interrupts. ‘Sergeant Barnes is on your floor. He is looking for you and appears to be in a great deal of distress.’
Steve blinks in shock. ‘Bucky?’ He looks back at Tony. ‘I gotta go!’ He says, jumping out of the bed.
‘At least put some clothes on first!’ Tony calls after him.
‘Oh! Right.’ Steve grabs his clothes from the pile of the floor and quickly dresses. He looks down in confusion as the clothes totally swamp him. ‘Ah… right.’
Tony chuckles despite the chaos of the situation. He scoops his own clothes and tosses them at Steve. ‘Give me those. I’ll never fit my clothes with your muscles.’
They quickly change clothes and run into the elevator to make their way down to Steve's floor. While they wait, Steve rubs a hand against his chest. ‘Does this always hurt?’
Tony looks over. ‘Huh? Oh, sorry. That's the reactor. Honestly I don’t notice it most days. It’s like white noise now.’ He winces. ‘Sorry. I know it sucks. We’ll figure this out. Get you back in your healthy, muscle bound body.’
‘I’m more worried about how this is normal for you.’
Before Tony can respond, the elevator door opens and Sam is standing in the doorway waiting for them, looking panicked and out of breath. ‘Steve.’ He says desperately, eyes fixed on Tony.
‘Over here Sam.’ Steve says. ‘What happened? Where's Bucky?’
Sam’s eyes snap over to Steve. ‘You got switched too?’
Steve frowns. ‘Too?’
Bucky appears at the end of the hallway, he leans his metal arm against the wall. ‘Barnes!’ He yells, voice furious. ‘You can’t run off like that Man!’
Confused, Steve looks back to what he thought was Sam. ‘...Buck?’
‘Hey Stevie.’ Bucky says with a weak, tired smile.
‘Alright, this is too weird.’ Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Jarvis tell the other Avengers to meet us on the common floor. Barnes, Wilson. Get in the elevator.’
Bucky steps in, eyes flicking between Tony and Steve, trying to make sense of the swap. Sam follows them at a much slower pace.
‘You good Sam?’ Steve asks, concerned.
‘Shockingly, this ridiculously heavy metal arm is hard to lug around.’ He hisses, leaning against the wall of the elevator.
‘See, this is why you should have let me take a look at it.’ Tony pouts.
Bucky glares at him. ‘As if Hydras programming would let me let anyone else touch it.’
‘You’re very talkative all of a sudden.’ Tony shoots back.
Bucky just rolls his eyes, moving to take his place to the left of Steve. Steve can’t stop the grin that crosses his face as Bucky instinctively takes their usual position.