Chapter Text
I
Discovery
It’s Bucky who finds the kid.
They move on the small outpost camp in grey pre dawn light. They’re following rumours, whispers of a strange Doktor Schmidt, and experiments. It quickly becomes clear, though, that they’ve come to the wrong address. Hydra doesn’t live here. None of the prisoners are POWs, either- they’re all civilians. Were civilians. When he sees the labs he freezes. Bucky feels- all of them feel- sick. These were people, for chrissake, before the Nazi butchers got their hands on them. What kind of people could do this? He staggers away, trying not to recall what happened before Steve came and got him out. How can it be allowed?
That’s why he hears it, Bucky realises, later. Outside, away from the main building, sounds travel better. He hears a child’s stifled sob. A voice mutters quietly in German. At least, he thinks it’s German. It’s coming from a small wooden hut, off to the side. The door’s not locked. He checks his gun, and moves in, fast. The air inside reeks of stale sweat and urine. A kid is strapped to a table- strapped down hard. He looks worse than Steve used to, before Dr Erskine worked his one time only miracle. There’s at least five buckles Bucky can see, and the straps are thick, heavy leather. They must think this kid’s Popeye- or maybe Bluto. His eyes fix on Bucky like he’s the answer to a prayer, or a dream.
The man standing over the kid is holding something weird. Like a scalpel, or a knife, but glass. It glistens, wet, and red, and Bucky realises the asshole has been cutting on the kid. Little lines are bleeding all along one arm. Neat little lines, like doodles or decorations. Outside the shooting and shouting have begun. The kid’s eerily quiet.
“Hey, asshole! Step away from the kid. Right now!” The man’s face hardens, immediately. He backs away from the table, obediently, hands spread wide. Light flashes on the wet glass implement in his right hand. He backs away- and keeps on backing, out of the other door. Bucky swears, thinks about following him, looks at the bleeding kid, and swears again.
He ought to go after the scientist; but he just can’t leave anyone in a place like this. Not after what happened to him. He grins at the kid, trying to forget about labs, and experiments. The kid keeps gazing at Bucky with huge eyes, like he’s not really sure he’s real. The leather is stiff, and the buckles are weirdly warped, like they’ve been in a fire, or under heavy pressure. But there’s a scalpel on the lab bench, and it cuts through the leather just fine.
Outside, things are pretty much over. They’ve just the getting away with it left to do. The guards are all down, not moving. If there were any living prisoners; apart from the kid, they’ve long since left. The main buildings are on fire. That’s a sign that won’t be ignored. Cap and the rest of the guys are pulling back to the pickup site.
“Come on kid; let’s get you out of here.” He holds out a hand, and the kid crawls off the table towards him. He’s staggering, shoeless and desperate but determined. Bucky looks at the red footprints he’s leaving and wants to break something. Someone. The kid’s knees give out just then, so Bucky wraps an arm around him and hauls away. Kid clings like an octopus. Steadily, they back out the door.
II
Hope
Erik stares with wide eyes at everything in the new army camp. All the different soldiers, in their different uniforms- and not a single swastika or skull badge among them. The medical staff on board the plane treated his injuries like they belonged to someone who can feel pain. They’ve fed him, found him clothes and shoes. Some of the soldiers wave at him or ruffle his shaved head as they press past. He realises he is shivering, and forces his hands up to his mouth to muffle any noise he might have made. No one here knows what he can do. What he is. No one here wants to cage him, hurt him, count to three. He listens to the languages spoken, and he can’t hear a single word of German. Here, he’s not a lab rat. His rescuer- he said his name to Erik but the flight was very noisy- looks at him, and Erik freezes. He saw the lab. He saw Doktor Schmidt. What if he guesses?
Something taps his arm, and he whirls. There is a giant staring at him. A blonde, blue eyed giant, straight out of some SS recruitment dream. Why can’t he stop shaking? The giant is wearing blue, and smiling. Erik tilts towards his rescuer, in fright, and is astonished to feel the man put a reassuring hand on his back. No one reassures Erik. No one is supposed to care what he feels, as long as he can do what the Doktor wants. He knows he should try to be strong. It’s very dangerous to look weak, or hurt, but he can’t stop. He can feel the metal bench they’re sitting on shaking along with him, and prays they don’t realise why. The hand on his back is now two arms, holding him close, holding him safe. Erik hides his face in his rescuer’s chest for a long time. No one jeers, no one laughs.
His rescuer and the tall stranger are having a conversation over his head. That’s good. Too much attention is dangerous. His arm is tapped again, and this time he looks. Kaugummi. The blue giant is offering him chewing gum. And smiling. He doesn’t seem to want Erik to do anything except try the gum. Timidly, Erik puts his hand out, takes the candy. No one takes it away from him. Besides him, his rescuer takes a piece as well. He looks at the stranger- and really, he’d never make it on an SS poster. His eyes are too kind, his face too open and honest. Also, who wears a star on their chest like that?
“D-ddanke. Zank-yu.”
“Welcome. I’m Steve.” He taps his chest, and says it again “Steve.” Cocks his head. Erik swallows.
“Bucky.” Says his rescuer, tapping his own chest.
They both look at him. Erik blinks back.
They are both waiting to hear his name, he realises.
“I-ich –“ He stops, coughs, starts again. Englische, they only speak englische.
“Erik. My namen ist- is Erik.”
“Hello, Erik. It’s good to meet you.” They both smile at him. Erik chews his gum, and smiles back.No one has asked him what he was doing in the Doktor’s clutches, and he won’t tell if they do. Erik is sure they mean well towards him, but he doesn’t know if that would change if they found out. He’s had enough of being an experiment. He’s told them how he got there, sort of- the Aktion that caught his family, and that he’s probably the only survivor.
They haven’t asked him any more than that, and his age. He thinks he’s fifteen, he needs to double check the date; Schmidt wasn’t interested in birthdays.
Erik begins to consider hope.
III
Revelation
It’s an accident, how they find out. Erik has been careful, but after a few days where no one is testing him, he begins to relax a little. It’s not just that no one is hurting him- no one else is being hurt either. They let him eat and sleep as much as he wants, and leave him to his own devices a lot. The nurse dresses his hurts as carefully as if he matters, and helps him wash. When the stash of leftovers he’s been hoarding gets thrown out, Steve finds him some real military rations to keep, that won’t rot or go off. He looks sad, but he doesn’t explain why. Erik is pleased. He can’t think why someone who’s obviously eaten well all his life, to be so big and strong, understands hunger so well. Bucky goes quiet for an hour, and then drags him out to play ball with the rest of the soldiers, determinedly.
Steve’s not allowed to join in, unless everyone else is on the other team, but Erik and Bucky don’t like ganging up on one person; even if he is Captain America. Also, he always wins. So Steve just sits and watches; shouting encouragement and score points, or possibly random numbers, while he sketches. No one has explained the rules to Erik. He’s not sure there are any. Bucky has just lost the ball to a man in a bowler hat when Erik spots something. There’s a jeep careering about; it looks like one of the soldiers is teaching another to drive. Steve is lying flat, possibly asleep. The jeep is going to hit him; the driver can’t see properly through the windscreen, and is having trouble steering. It speeds up, despite Erik’s yell of warning. It keeps coming forwards. Erik can see it, in his mind’s eye, running over Steve’s head. He panics.
Erik throws up a hand, fingers spread wide as he calls the metal to him. He can’t do anything fancy, like hit the brakes or twist the steering wheel. But the body of the jeep is mostly metal. He braces himself, and pulls. The car slides towards him. It’s heavy. It hurts. But it misses Steve’s head. The driver is staring at Erik. He snaps out of his exhausted daze, and realises. Any minute now, they will put two and two together and then, and then-
Erik turns on his heel and flees.
IV
Safe
Erik hurries into the medical hut, where he’s been sleeping. He grabs his treasures from their hiding place; the coin, the rations, a water bottle. He wraps them in a blanket, and leaves again. He can’t run now, it’s too obvious. Better to hide, until dark and run then. He can coax the fence apart and twist it up again behind him, make his own gate. There’s an empty barracks nearby, so he dashes into it, just as the distant shouting becomes recognisable as his name. They have worked it out. He shakes his head. He’s not going back. Erik will die before he is used again for his powers. He drops to the dusty floor, slides under a cot. It’s metal, as he hoped. He spreads himself out flat, grabbing onto the bed frame with his hands and his feet and his power.
It works. He is spread-eagled against the bottom of the bed; to a casual look, he’s invisible. Even if someone bends to look at the floor, they won’t see him unless they tilt the bed against the wall. They’re not Gestapo, Erik thinks, they won’t search that hard. He hopes. He wishes he hadn’t had to display his monstrous gift. He likes the soldiers here; he doesn’t want to see them transformed into hunters. But Steve, it had been worth it for Steve.Time passes. His breathing and his heartbeat slow. Outside, the yelling of the soldiers dies down. He’d think they’d given up, but he can hear the doors opening and closing, the hurried questions. They’re still searching. His eyes sting. He closes them, and opens them again, staring fiercely at the floor. Crying is noise; he knows better than that. The door to the hut opens. Someone is walking in. Erik freezes again, tries to breathe as shallowly as possible. The person doesn’t seem to be searching very hard. The boots thud on the floor as the bed above him creaks. He glances at the boots, recognises them. Steve’s uniform boots.
Captain America is lying on the bed. Erik closes his eyes. When Steve speaks, it’s quietly, and seemingly aimed at the empty air
“That was a pretty neat thing you did there, Erik.” Erik doesn’t say anything. “Nobody’s angry with you, you know. Whatever you did, you didn’t mean it bad. I can see that. The Colonel can see that.” Erik is silent, even though he knows Steve knows he’s there. He must. Steve clears his throat, maybe scratches his head. “Got a lot of folks worked up about you.” Erik wishes he could move. The silence lengthens “Couple of science folk who’d be real interested in talking to you.” Erik is sure they would. “Or... is that the problem?” Desperately, Erik swallows, finds his voice. Steve is kind. If he pleads… maybe he’ll let him go. Pretend he couldn’t find him.
“Bitte! Bitte. Do not tell. Do not!” Steve gets up, sharply, then bends, lifts the bed- and Erik- in one hand. His eyes widen as he sees Erik stuck to the underside. “Huh. Really neat trick.” He smiles. Erik doesn’t see it. He begs, frantically.
“Please, Kaptin Steve, please don’t. Please, let me go.” Steve frowns, puzzled
“Let you go? Kid, you’re not a prisoner.” Then his eyes widen in awful comprehension. “Please tell me you didn’t think we were holding you prisoner? Who’s been frightening you?” Erik slides down the bed to huddle against the wall.
“No. No one. But… but you didn’t know. What I can do.” He gestures, spreading his hand out again. Steve nods.
“Why should that change anything? Is that what happened before? Before we... found you?”
“Ja.”
“You didn’t hurt anyone. Not even the jeep.”
“Not this time.” Says Erik, bleakly.
“You hurt someone before?” Erik closes his eyes. Nods.
“Who? How?”
“Mein- m- my mother.”
“Your Mom? How? Was it an accident?”
“The Doktor, he- he put a coin on the desk. He said, he said: Move the coin, I will count to three. I couldn’t move it in time. So he counted, and then he shot her. In the head. I couldn’t move it in time, I couldn’t… It was my fault.”
“Jesus.” Steve says, fervently.
His vision’s blurry again. He scrubs at his eyes. Stupid, weeping for someone he got killed.
“Hey. Hey, now.” Steve continues, firm and gentle “Your Mom… That was not your fault, kiddo, never your fault.”
“Then I wrecked his office. And he said that pain made me strong, made my powers grow. So he hurt me. Often. Then you all came, and I got away and no-one knew-“ Erik is babbling now, he knows. He can’t stop talking as he pours it all out; what Herr Schmidt had done, what he’d wanted Erik to do, to be.
At some point, Steve slides down the wall, to sit next to him, bootless feet spread out in front of them. Slowly Erik unfurls from his tight, terrified curl, until they’re both sitting leaning against the wall whilst Erik talks himself hoarse. At some point, Steve carefully curls an arm around Erik’s skinny shoulders. Erik lets him.
Finally, he runs out of words. There is silence, a kind silence, for some time. Then Steve speaks.
“Erik. Listen to me. I get why you’re frightened. Believe me, I understand that. It’s not gonna happen again.”
“You don’t understand! You’ve…. You’re never weak.” Erik protests, frantic. Steve smiles, crookedly.
“Oh, you think so, son? Guess you don’t know that much about me, huh?”
He continues talking, telling Erik all about Steve’s own experiences with weakness. With scientists, both the good kind and the bad. Erik listens. Steve tells Erik that he will not be hurt again. That he is safe, now. Slowly, slowly he comes to believe him. No one has made him leave the base , or talk to the scientists yet, either. Some of them had wanted him to go to hospital, or the USA, but that’s all. No one has caged him, no one has picked up a scalpel yet. Steve won’t let them. Steve says he’s seen too much of it.
Erik wants to be safe. Safe is the base, is Bucky calling him kiddo, is Steve sneaking him extra food. Safe is Captain America. The other soldiers don’t say anything, but when the doctor wanted to examine Erik again, they all stood around having an impromptu weapons check. The doctor doesn’t write anything down. Bucky threatened Doktor Schmidt over him. Steve is. Well, he’s Captain America. He’s good, and strong, and he looks out for Erik like a little brother.
Erik thinks that if he has to put on a uniform, to stay near them, to be safe, he will.
V
Rejection
There are shouts and explosions all around them as the Commandos deal with the Hydras defending the tiny airstrip. People are dying. Bullets shrieks past him, the metal calling Erik to move, to think, to act. He watches, as Cap throws a Hydra soldier at two more, knocking them all down. He grips Bucky’s knife- his knife, now. Waits.The fanatical Doktor Schmidt glances at him. Cocks his head, curious at the sight of skinny civilian boy on a battlefield. Erik tries to glare back at him. This Herr Doktor Schmidt is not his Doktor Schmidt. He still wants to hurt him. This Schmidt hates Erik's Kaptain Amerika, wants to kill him. The others too. He made Bucky- into an experiment. Made him bleed. That means he is Cap’s prey. So Erik waits, crouching, for their confrontation. It comes soon, Cap facing the Nazi down with shield and courage.
Schmidt sneers at them all. “You bring children to your war, now, Captain? How civilised.” Cap doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes flicking to Erik’s in reassurance. Erik doesn’t waste time being angry at being called a child. He hasn’t been one since the other doctor and the coin.
“Your colleague Schmidt had already involved him!” Captain Amerika’s outrage is genuine, Erik realises. And it all is for him. Oh.
“Ah, you must be a gifted young man indeed, to be one of my cousin’s interests.”
Mein Gott. He knows. He is related to- Erik wants to vomit. To flee. But he promised Bucky and so he remains where he is. He will not leave anyone alone with mad Doktors. Especially Steve. Even when he begins speaking in German, as if for Erik’s ears alone. He doesn’t know how good Steve is with languages.
“Can I not interest you in another choice, Herr-?” Here he pauses, clearly waiting for Erik to supply his name. Erik doesn’t need Cap’s growled warning to avoid doing anything so stupid. Erik’s voice is frozen, anyway. “You see, soon, now, the world will receive it’s proper order. Surely you wish to be one of the masters?” His voice is quieter. Perhaps he thinks it sounds coaxing. Be a Master? One of the master race? The battle sounds have faded away. It seems a terrible thing, to be offered a choice between master and slave. Between hurting and being hurt. Captain America seems to be waiting on his response. Erik can’t speak. He can’t think. He can’t- Three- his memory whispers. I will count to three- He looks at the symbols he sees everywhere- the swastika and the hydra. And then he knows.
Erik will never, never join these filthy beasts, these so-special Doktors with their knives and their lies. Erik chooses for himself, for his mother- for all the countless others. The ones judged only fit to be herded into the ghettoes, into camps, onto trains, into fires. He has to answer, make his Kaptain and this Doktor know how utterly he rejects this new world order, this master race, but he has no words. His tongue is still huge and clumsy in his mouth. Erik shakes his head. No. Pulls up his dirty sleeve. Turns his arm so the world can see the number they stamped on him before. Schmidt shouldn’t require a further explanation. He doesn’t. Like a searchlight, the skull faced man’s attention snaps away from him, and back to Captain America. He doesn’t even take the time to sneer or show his disapproval. Erik is no longer relevant. The two men rush at each other. Erik yanks wildly at bullets as they fly, and is relieved when they all veer past Cap’s shoulder without hitting him.
V
Aftermaths
It’s the statue that convinces him, finally. The smiling, heroic statue that both is and is not Steve. Erik feels Bucky and Steve’s loss as keenly as he once did his mother’s. A fundamental piece of the universe is missing, never to be found. They might not have wanted to be heroes, but to Erik, they were more than heroes. They were his safety. His ability to hope. And they’ve both gone. If only Steve had let him go with them on the last missions. He could have kept the plane from crashing. He could have tried. But they left him behind, and now they’re both dead. Steve’s never going to teach him to draw properly. Bucky was going to let him learn how to field strip a rifle properly. No one is going to teach him anything, he’s just going to be stupid, stupid Erik, the left-behind dumkopf kid. His eyes water, he swipes at them, angrily.
“Hey, kid.”
“Gut… good afternoon, Herr Stark.” Erik is hesitant; he knows Howard Stark, but he’s a hard man to predict or understand.
“Howard, kid, I told you before. You knew Steve and Bucky- hell, you went on more missions than I did. It’s Howard”
He’s has discarded the rich playboy air; he’s as solemn as befits a man burying one of his brothers.
“I didn’t go on the last one.” He’s sullen, now, mumbling his German accented guilt to his feet. Howard narrows his eyes. Time to nip this in the bud. Steve and Bucky would kick his ass if they found out he let the kid blame himself like this.
“Neither did I.” The kid’s gaze snaps to his face. And he is still a kid, Anthony reminds himself. The war had made ‘em all grow up, but in some ways, Erik is still so very young.
“But you had your company.”
“Think that makes a difference? You’re not old enough to shave yet, kid; don’t think it stopped you.”
“I should have been there. I could have done something.”
“Yeah. You could have died like they did.” Howard is deliberately harsh- stark, in fact, trying to reach the kid through his clouds of miserable guilt.
Erik breathes in, shocked. Howard softens his voice, “Hey. I’m not saying you couldn’t have done something. But the Skull knew your abilities. He knew Steve. They were right; you’d have been a huge worry to him, however good you were. After Bucky… he couldn’t risk it. Not on a mission. Steve couldn’t. Do you understand?”
“Ja… Yes.” Erik is silent. Anthony lets him consider things awhile. Maybe he got through to the kid. “Now there is no one to worry.” Erik seems almost pleased. Relieved.
Oh, Christ, no, thinks Howard. Reaches out to touch Erik’s shoulder, carefully. Erik is still so wary of being touched.
“There’s me.” He says, quiet and deliberate. Erik’s look of surprise is almost comical. “There’s me.”
VI
Introspective
Howard sighs. It’s been years since Bucky and Steve died, almost as long since Peggy went back to England, fondue-free, and it still seems like yesterday. Maybe it would have been easier if they’d had graves to go with their memorials. This way, it’s more like they vanished somewhere, rather than gone forever. Still seems like they were the best days of his life, with Captain America, and Bucky, and Peggy, however short those days had been. The senators, the army guys looking for a new toy, and other, murkier people had left Erik alone after Howard Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, declared his interest. It hadn’t been hard. Some had been persistent, But Stark knew he was too rich to bribe, too ruthless to threaten, and too damn stubborn to quit covering for Erik when he’d needed it. Cap… Steve would have expected nothing less. He’d steered Erik into college, and through his first hangover. He’d not wanted help with girlfriends, though. Erik didn’t seem interested in… in fondue. Erik was unnervingly grateful to Howard. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time. However much the war had made Howard, it had taken everything from Erik.
Even Obie Stane had tried sticking his nose in, once, but he’d veered off when Maria shut him down. Ah, Maria. He’d probably have married her even if she hadn’t terrified and entranced him in equal amounts. Maria was very like Peggy, in some ways, hiding her ruthless and vicious competences under a demure and ladylike veneer. And she got on well with Erik. Unlike Obie. Erik was still suspicious of the man, Howard couldn’t figure out why. Probably the war. Schmidt, too. Stuff like that would make anyone wary. Tony changed everything and nothing when he came along. Howard was already used to being a father, as much as Erik would let him. Steve had introduced them; after Steve was gone he’d kept an eye on the boy for his sake. Paid for his education, gave him a place to come back to.
Despite his early lessons in paternity with Erik, Tony had still been a shock. Tony wasn’t into compromise, apparently and had no idea of the fine art of diplomatic negotiation. His main form of communication to begin with had been yelling until he got what he needed. Now that he could talk he was relying more on charm and cute looks. Clearly he was already capable of a political career, but Howard had to confess he was hoping for more from the boy at some point. When he was out of diapers, maybe. Tony is still at the undiscriminating stage of life, pushing everything and anything he can get his hands on into his mouth.
“Da plane! Frow it again!” “Again, Uncle Erik!”
Howard Stark considers the young man playing with the toddler, a serious and determined nursemaid, who appears bent on making sure Tony doesn’t hurt himself in his appetite to experience the world. It seems like a full time job.
“Ready, Katz? One… Two..” The metal planes flick up in the air again, hovering and diving around Tony’s chubby child fingers, always just out of his reach.
At least Tony can make him smile.