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He was watching it again. There was a creak and a whir from the doorway, and a shaft of light from the hall fell across the common room floor. A moment later Rhodey insinuated himself slowly onto the couch next to him, cautious of his back and of the mood that was probably curling off of Tony at the moment.
They watched the tape together another few times before Rhodey pried the remote from Tony’s hand, returning to the projector’s home screen, casting the dark room in a somber blue glow.
Tony blew out a noisy breath. He should have expected this. He’d avoided thinking about his parents’ assassination through sheer stubbornness and somewhat misplaced over-attention to his best friend’s recovery.
Rhodey was managing alright, which was more than enough to make him start slapping Tony every time he got a little too doting. This was overdue, he guessed. They hadn’t really talked about what had happened in Siberia yet, but Rhodey understood enough to be supportive.
He was the first to break the silence. “What was it that he wanted so badly from the back of their car?”
Tony had to swallow to make his voice work again. “Dad had replicated the serum that made Cap… Cap. Was delivering it to the Pentagon.”
“In his own car? Man.”
The question lit up his whole brain. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked it before.
In a moment Tony knew, because of course the bad guys would want to get ahold of a super soldier drug. Of course they’d kill to obtain it. And the fact that they got it was absolutely Howard’s fault.
“Yeah. For such a smart guy, Howard could be pretty stupid.”
Had the Pentagon even known about Howard’s success? Tony can’t remember a single federal agent looking into the accident. There would have been swarms if the feds had realized a weapon so potentially dangerous had been misplaced.
Tony spent who knows how long rattling around in his own thoughts before Rhodey sighed and shifted. “I should have known bringing that up would open a new can of worms.” He hauled himself up with a heavy hand on Tony’s knee and the arm of the couch, his robo-legs hissing a little at the strain. “Come and wake me up if you find anything. I’ll sic Dum-e on you if you don’t try and sleep sometime this century, though.”
The touch brought Tony out of his head a little. “Dum-e can’t be ‘sicced.’ He moves at less than half a mile per hour.”
“Just saying. Gave the little guy a can of compressed air and a harmonica the other day and he put two and two together pretty quickly.”
“YOU ARE A MENACE. I DON’T KNOW WHY I LET YOU MOVE IN.”
All Tony heard in reply was a distant snort.
He’d never really looked through his dad’s super soldier notes before. Biology wasn’t a big area of interest to him. Besides, supersoldiers were a sore subject to begin with, and once Steve was defrosted it seemed a little invasive. Fuck that guy, though.
Two hours into his dig through the spotless storeroom where all of the elder Stark’s records were kept, Tony was no closer to finding any evidence that Howard had been working in conjunction with the US government on his replica serum.
Howard’s writings on the topic also seemed piecemeal in a way that Tony didn’t associate with his father’s work. He was used to people complaining about his own leaps in logic; his and Howard’s brains seemed to work the same in that regard; but some of these assumptions Howard made with no factual justification… It was like he was missing half of the notes.
For example: how the hell was his dad so certain that enhanced humans could survive basically indefinitely in stasis if kept cold enough? It was stated as fact throughout the documents, written long before Cap was discovered in the Arctic. He thought back to his father’s yearly return to Steve’s last known trajectory, which was more sentimental than Tony would ever give Howard credit for. Was there some other prior evidence for this belief, because non-superhumans definitely can’t survive long periods on ice…
Tony’s blood ran cold.
“FRIDAY, search for matches in word choice and writing style between this sample and Natasha’s data dump.”
“Absolutely, sir. Comparing now.”
Tony sat hunched with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes for a solid five minutes before he heard the chime for a match.
“Steve.”
“Tony. I guess you figured out how that phone works. What do you need?”
“I need to talk. I have some apologies to make.”
“Tony, it was a fraught situation. We all-“
“No. This is… this is different. I need to speak with you and Barnes. In person, if possible.”
“You know, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I sent you that phone.”
“Look, I would much rather be calling you because there was some dire threat we both needed to punch, but that’s not the case this time. I realize that talking about things is your—actually both of our—kryptonite, but I’m just trying to get out ahead of something that will definitely cause friction later.”
Tony heard a sigh over the line.
“We can meet at the palace in Wakanda. King T’challa and his guards would prefer to be present to mediate. I don’t think I have to tell you to leave your suit at home.”
“Got it—be there in fourteen hours.”
Sometime in the middle of his packing, Tony received a notification for a voice mail, which was impressive because his phone hadn’t rung.
“Hello Mr. Stark,” spoke a voice which Tony identified as the King of Wakanda. “I would like to extend my most gracious welcome to Wakanda, and to remind you that at the first sign of any violence you will be expelled from my country so fast, it will be comical. I look forward to your visit. I hope that it will be healing for all parties.”
Tony doesn’t remember much of the plane ride or the drive from the small airstrip. He’s sure that the mountains and low-hanging mists he passed were beautiful… He couldn’t say, though. He spent most of that time staring at his hands, which were shaking, or his phone, which was open to his last text to Pepper. Was this what had been keeping Steve from telling him about his parents’ assassination (despite the fact that Tony’s reaction had completely validated Steve’s circumspection seriously, what the fuck, Tony)?
The sight of the palace momentarily shook him out of his funk. The most obvious features were the pair of giant panther statues flanking the palace, but the building itself was impressive. Airy horseshoe arcades and minimalist glass cantilevered projections alike were woven seamlessly into the mountain face. It looked like nothing else he’d ever seen.
The view of the palace yielded to that of trees and mist again upon their approach, then to darkness as they drove into the mountainside itself. The whole armored car was lifted in an absolutely silent elevator. Tony picked at his phone case as they emerged from the elevator and into the open air.
Up here the mists that clung to the valleys below had been burned away by wan sunlight. This left a clear view of the countryside, which was streaked silver from suspended high-speed rail lines and dotted with clusters of architecturally adventurous roofs that peeked up from between the trees.
Tony fought his instinct to shoot the shit with his guide as he was led through bright halls to a walled garden where King T’challa and Steve were already waiting for him, dressed casually. T’challa indicated an empty bench for him.
“Mr. Stark. Welcome to Wakanda.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Steve.”
“Tony.” Steve was standoffish on his best day, but Tony could tell that he had a lot of ground to make up. The news he was about to deliver wouldn’t help, either. He sat himself gingerly on the edge of his seat and took to fidgeting with his cufflinks.
“Looks like life in Wakanda is treating you well?”
“King T’challa has been a very courteous host.”
“Having guests is a novelty here. My countrymen and I are enjoying showing everyone around.” T’challa gave a wry grin, which earned an eyebrow quirk from Steve. There was a story there, and Tony was curious, but he wasn’t about to get distracted.
“How’s Rhodey?” asked Steve.
“Ah—pain in the ass. He’s living at HQ right now. Fewer stairs than his house, and gives me more time to work with him on the exo-skeleton interface. He’s been playing a lot of Pokémon?”
“I’m glad to hear he’s recovering. Sam’ll be happy to know as well.”
Sam wasn’t here. Tony could guess that Sam didn’t know that he was in Wakanda. None of the Avengers who had taken refuge here could have been very pleased with Tony, but Sam had taken a chance on him and he’d nearly killed both Steve and Barnes in a pique.
A gem-bright bird lit on one of the empty benches, and the group fell silent for a beat.
“Why are you here, Tony?” There came the death knell from Steve.
Tony took a deep breath. “I need to talk to Barnes. And to you, but mostly him.”
“Bucky’s not really available to chat right now…”
“This involves him. A lot. I get it if he doesn’t want to see me—I wouldn’t… Get him on a conference call if you have to, but he needs to be here for this somehow. And don’t tell me you don’t know how to get ahold of him because I know you do.”
“You can’t talk to him. I’m sorry.” Steve did look genuinely sad. Tony thought back to the last time he saw Barnes, beaten and bloody, one arm lighter. He remembers the sound of his foot connecting with Barnes’ head while he was on the ground. The thought that those injuries could have been fatal hadn’t actually crossed his mind. Tony’s stomach turned.
“He’s… alive, isn’t he?”
“What? Of course he’s alive! Jesus, Tony. If you want him to know something tell me and I’ll relay it to him next time I can.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work. This wouldn’t fit on a “Sorry I missed you” note.”
“He’s not available, so you can drop it.”
“Oh, cut the shit, Rogers.” Tony froze for a moment, glancing at King T’challa, who had raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “I’m sorry. This is important.”
Steve and T’challa shared a meaningful look followed by a head tilt by T’challa. Steve frowned, but nodded, and he and T’challa stood.
“You know what, Tony, fine,” sighed Steve. “Come on.”
Steve and King T’challa led him through the palace breezeways and increasingly impressive levels of security. The sensation of being watched and judged by everyone they passed was not helped by the fact that Tony didn’t have a single piece of armor on him.
They passed a set of air lock doors into a lab space that Tony would appreciate more if he wasn’t currently in the grip of terror.
What met him when the lights flicked on was so unexpected that Tony recoiled. There was Barnes, looking peaceful as the dead in a cryo tube.
Steve approached the chamber and crossed his arms, an extra layer of tension becoming apparent in his shoulders.
“You know, he wasn’t really himself when he broke out of holding in Berlin, right? When HYDRA had him in Siberia they gave him a sort of reset code as a contingency. Leaves him pliant, unable to refuse orders. If Zemo could find it, anyone can. He thought this would be the best option until we figured out a way to deprogram him.”
“He chose this?” Tony looked from Steve to T’challa.
“We would have kept him safe regardless, but this was Mr. Barnes’ wish.”
Tony’s stomach twisted.
“I just think that he might need to be awake for this conversation. It’s weird talking about him when he’s like that.”
Tony flinched as Steve spun towards him. “What the hell has got you so worked up, Tony? What is it that you need to say? I’m not going to go against his wishes just so you can soothe your conscience.”
That stung.
“That is… not entirely uncalled for.” Steve rolled his eyes, and Tony took the moment of broken intensity to brace himself. “Cap, I need to talk to him about my father’s relationship to the Winter Soldier Program.”
Steve fell back half a step from where he’d been looming over Tony.
“Explain.”
“Howard knew about Bucky.”
“You think he learned about the Winter Soldier before he died?”
“I think… I know he had knowledge that Sergeant Barnes was the Winter Soldier. And I know that he was complicit in his continued capture. That it went on for years before he died.”
Steve went mute, staring at him in disbelief. Tony could have disemboweled himself. As much as he’d resented Steve for his relationship with Howard, he couldn’t take any pleasure in his father’s betrayal. He didn’t even feel vindicated.
“Steve, please. I think that your friend might have too long been the subject of discussion rather than an active participant,” T’challa entreated.
Steve closed his eyes; a choked sound and a nod the only affirmative he was capable of.
“We will wake him, but Mr. Stark, maybe you should wait in the hallway.”
Tony raised his hands in supplication and backed towards the door.
That first breath was always so cold. Bucky shuddered through another three before he became aware of Steve’s hand on his chest, his form swimming in his vision as his eyes fought to focus.
He must have blacked out because he teleported to a seated position across the room. He was still puzzling through the shift in perspective when Steve draped him with a stiff pink blanket warmed to what was probably just above body temperature. It burned.
“Hey Bucky.”
“Hey Steve.” Even his tongue felt cold and heavy. Steve started chafing his remaining arm industriously, causing Bucky to wobble back and forth in his seat.
“Does this happen every time?”
“This isn’t bad. F-first time I got frostbite.” Freezer burn was more accurate, but normal people didn’t get freezer burn. That had been agony. Hydra hadn’t figured out flash-freezing until his third try in cryo. Bucky shivered again, cold sweat springing to his skin.
"Buck."
“Ugh. Who the hell starches blankets? It’s all prickly.”
King T’challa was in the room, talking closely and seriously to a man in a lab coat, who glanced at Bucky while nodding.
The king approached, signaling one of the door guards, who brought in chairs. Four chairs.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes. How are you feeling?”
“Alright, thanks,” he quaked. “How’re you?”
King T’challa looked a little unconvinced. “I’m well. You have a visitor who needs to speak to you.”
“Figured. They letting me have a lawyer this time, or no?”
“What, Buck? No! No one is here to take you.”
“You still have sanctuary here. It’s Tony Stark who wants to talk to you. He is unarmed and came peacefully, but he’s made a troubling discovery.” T’challa looked uncharacteristically unnerved, and a closer inspection of Steve’s expression left Bucky with a pit in his gut.
“Don’t let him in until I can stand on my own, please.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
It only took him about ten minutes to get acclimated again. It was weird being able to adjust on his own, move about freely. Whatever had Steve’s nerves on edge was catching though, and Bucky spent his time stretching and pacing restlessly. It was better than he was used to, though.
Tony was ushered in soon after, nodding an awkward greeting to Bucky and fidgeting nervously. The group sat in a rough circle close to the wall of windows overlooking one of the panther monuments. Steve took the seat on Bucky’s right hand side, and scooted it closer to him defensively. King T’challa was settled back in his chair somewhere halfway between Bucky and Tony.
Stark attempted to speak several times, eyes flitting to and away from Bucky’s face. He was even more anxious than Steve. For some reason that was reassuring to Bucky.
“We need to talk about my father.”
“I’m sorry. About your mother, too.”
Stark winced. “That’s not really what—I’m sorry for trying to invert your face. But that’s not what I’m here for.”
“You want to talk about Howard. There’s not much to say except the obvious.”
“Not exactly true. You two knew each other personally during the war. I was looking through some of my father’s old notes. And…some them make mention of you, during the war and after. What I found was disturbing to me. That’s what we need to talk about.”
Bucky froze. No wonder Tony was skirting around the topic. He would never have imagined that Howard would write any of that down. “Did you really wake me up to talk about this?” Bucky glanced warily at Steve, T’challa, back to Steve, who looked crushed. He already knew. Bucky’s heart sank. This was not the way he had wanted Steve to find out about him. Hell, the goal had been for Steve to never find out.
“Do you know what I’m talking about? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Back in Siberia.”
“You want details? You’re his son. It wasn’t a big deal, alright? It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead because of me.”
“Not a big deal?! How the hell are you so calm about this?”
“It wasn’t a big deal. We hated each other, I was a convenient alternative to Steve, so things happened.”
“You think what he did was out of spite?”
“Maybe. Probably. It was for me.”
“Wait. You killed him out of spite? I wouldn’t think that you were capable of revenge back then.” Tony looked genuinely confused.
“What? No. Are we talking about the same thing? It’s not… the easiest thing to think after a thaw.” He glanced around the room again, hoping for clues. Tony looked completely lost, and T’challa had lost his posture of aloof impartiality, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees.
Steve was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. He hadn’t known. Bucky had as good as told him. “Shit,” Bucky mumbled. Shit. Steve was halfway to figuring it out. Bucky could see it on his face.
“Wait, you and Howard? During the war?” Goddamn it.
Bucky’s eyes shifted to the exits in the room. “Mmm.”
“You two didn’t even used to speak. You just said you hated each other.”
“We did. I didn’t say it was a great idea. It just… he was jealous of me and of Peggy, and I was…”
Barely hanging on by a thread, Bucky thought. He’d been so angry all the time, and in even more misery over Steve than ever. The encounters always seemed to happen during some haze of frustration, when Howard would find him alone, and Bucky can’t even recall what he did or said each time that pissed Bucky off enough to slam him against a wall or push him into a closet.
‘You gonna slug me or kiss me here, Sarge?’
Bucky had kissed him with such force that the back of Howard’s head had thumped against the lab’s door. He remembers that. He also remembers always feeling sick afterwards, like he’d been duped, when Howard would pinch his cheek or wink while Bucky was still catching his breath, cocking a grin as he slipped away. Despite that, it seemed to happen with relative frequency.
“Buck…”
Bucky’s chest felt tight. Steve would figure it out now. He was so obvious, he was sure the only thing that had saved him was that Steve hadn’t found out about his attractions. Steve was smart. Now he’d recognize from context, what everything meant, if he hadn’t already. Then would come the pity, and awkwardness, and avoidance… What was another loss at this point? Yet, a lump formed in Bucky’s throat, and his eyes started burning.
“Oh, God, give me the strength to repress the memory of this conversation. This makes it so much worse,” croaked Tony, who Bucky had forgotten was there.
“Makes what worse?” Bucky made a groan of complaint and tipped his head back against his stylish black leather and chrome chair, willing his eyes to dry. It was too early for this, he thought to the ceiling. “This is pretty bad. This here. Or are you talking about the murder part?”
“That Howard knew about you.”
“Huh?” He lifted his head to level a look at Tony (who was a middle-aged fucking carbon copy of Howard, ugh), strongly avoiding meeting Steve’s distraught gaze.
“He knew you had been captured and hid it so that he could get tips for his research.”
Oh. “Howard was working for Hydra?” Bucky snuck a glance at Steve, who was white-knuckling the hell out of the arms of his chair, staring straight ahead. There was the cause of the look of betrayal on Steve’s face. Bucky reached for the emotion and found it missing.
“He would probably say no. He worked with Arnim Zola and Hydra to further his development of a dupe serum. You were ”convenient” so he let you rot with Hydra while he studied your enhancements. He was on his way to double cross them when you killed him.”
Bucky nodded. It made sense. Howard always knew how to use the resources at his disposal. He also wasn’t half as sneaky as he thought, as evidenced by Peggy having found out about the two of them immediately.
“He let them in. Saw the cracks in SHIELD and did nothing. Who knows how many people died because he had his own agenda? And that was re-creating you.” Tony flicked a hand toward Steve, who was looking less angry and more guilt-struck. Bucky sort of wanted to strangle Tony. He thought he could manage it one-handed.
“He involved my mother—my mom in his bullshit double agent farce. And now you’re saying that he slept with you during the war? I’m not even going to get into the implications there. Howard made his own bed and I’m sorry for ever defending his memory.”
Bucky caught his breath coming quicker. The thought that some of the people he’d murdered had deserved it had flickered through his mind often in the last two years. He buried it every time. That thought was cowardly. It led to bad places. “Blame whoever you want, but I killed him. That’s on me. Whatever happened before doesn’t matter.”
“No. He had the power to stop it and he didn’t. His ego killed my mother, and who knows how many countless others. He’s responsible.”
“Does it matter who’s responsible?”
“It does to me. I almost killed you. I could have killed Steve to get to you. It matters. I just want to fix this.”
“Your lives are a Gods-damned soap opera.” They all turned to look at T’challa, who had broken his silence and the mounting tension in the room. Tony deflated a little.
“I wish you were wrong, your Highness.”
“This argument is going nowhere. The best the three of you can do is try for forgiveness.”
Bucky shrugged. Tony hadn’t kept him captive for decades. He was still a little pissed that he’d drawn blood on Steve, though, gotten Sam and co. arrested. Steve had seemed to have mostly moved past that, though, so he’d try.
“Okay, that is a very healthy suggestion, but can we work on this? This thing with the—“ Tony gestured to the cryo tube behind him with a wiggle of his fingers. “I’ve got the whole…BARF system, and, well. It was meant to contextualize traumatic memories, but I think it can be re-tooled in this case. You gotta be awake for it, though, Princess Aurora.”
Bucky forgot himself and mouthed “Barf?” at Steve, who was currently mouthing “Princess Aurora?” at him. Steve cracked a rare, genuine grin. Something loosened in Bucky. Steve was still a little shaken and pale, but he was recovering. Bucky shouldn’t have underestimated him. That stupid emotion swelled in his chest and his eyes pricked again for just a moment. God, it overwhelmed his ability to breathe sometimes.
Somewhere in the middle of staring at Steve, Bucky had lost the thread of conversation. Tony and King T’challa were organizing a collaborative effort of some sort, from what he could gather. It was quickly devolving into jargon.
T’challa herded a babbling Tony out towards a different lab space, raising his eyebrows at Steve and Bucky from behind Tony’s back. The two of them were left alone in the room together.
The brief moment of levity had passed, and Steve was back to looking at Bucky like he’d broken his heart.
“Stevie, you okay?”
Steve snorted. “I want him dead.”
“He is dead.”
“I know.”
“He loved you, though, Steve. He went about it ass backwards, but he loved you.”
“No he didn’t. He couldn’t’ve if he treated you the way he did. If he didn’t...”
Steve stood abruptly from his seat. He dragged Bucky up bodily by the collar of his shirt and bundled him into his arms. Bucky fell into the hug, holding on as tight as he could with one arm.
“I missed you so much,” Steve said, muffled into Bucky’s neck.
“You too. Even before I remembered.” Steve shuddered and tightened his grasp. Bucky would happily stay right there for years if he could.
“I’m so sorry, Buck.”
“Shaddup.”
“Asshole,” breathed Steve.
“That’s jerk to you, punk.”
“Yeah.” Steve smiled into Bucky’s shoulder and drew back, hands lingering on Bucky’s ribs. Bucky caught one of them as Steve dropped them to his sides, running his thumb across Steve’s knuckles. Steve paused, cocking his head, and Bucky let go, mumbling apologies and studying the floor. He was really batting a fucking thousand today.
He was preparing to bury himself alive when Steve’s voice broke through his internal self-flagellation.
“Bucky...Hey.”
He couldn’t look. This was the end.
“Buck.”
A moment later Steve’s hands were on his cheeks, pulling him back in to smack a closed-lipped kiss onto Bucky’s mouth, which fell open in shock. He forgot to breathe for a moment. Steve stepped back and shrugged.
The little shit.
It was just exactly the way that little Harvey Reisner’s mom used to kiss him when she dropped him off to school, leaving a smear of brick red on his lips for him to scrub off. He’d always felt sorry for that kid.
“The fuck was that?”
“Did I read that wrong?” Steve was playing. Asshole was grinning like a loon.
“You read it wrong by kissing me like a goddamn grandma.” Bucky’s heart was going a mile a minute. He rubbed at his chest in a futile attempt to calm it and Steve coaxed him closer with a light hand on his elbow.
“I am gonna be a hundred soon.” Steve spoke low, just to the air between them, which was shrinking, Bucky noted.
“You’re looking pretty good for such an old fart.”
“You too. Need a haircut, though, scruffy.” Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair to cup his palm around the side of his neck. Bucky leaned into the touch, ignoring all the questions or the years of impossibility that had stood in the way before now.
“You gonna keep wasting my time flirting, Rogers?”
Steve barked a laugh and pulled him in.
Bucky met him more than half way, kissed the hell out of him, and felt Steve still smiling against his lips. He sent a silent prayer of apology to Margaret Elizabeth Carter for all the times he’d rolled his eyes at her and Steve for disappearing to make out all the time.
Steve broke the kiss, leaning his forehead into Bucky’s and scratching his fingers through the hair at the base of Bucky’s skull. It was the safest Bucky’d felt in a long time.
Bucky was seriously contemplating kissing him again when the door to the lab slid open.
“Oh. Wow. Congratulations, Cap. Did not actually expect that.”
“Why?” Bucky groaned, dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve patted him heartily on the back.
“You know what they say about assuming, Tony.”
T’challa hung back in the doorway, looking slightly sheepish. “We were returning to ask if we could continue our journey of reconciliation over a late lunch. But maybe…not?”
“You hungry, Buck?”
Bucky turned toward Tony and T’challa, sliding his arm around Steve’s waist, deliberately casual. “Always.”
“Sounds like a plan, then. I bet you Tony hasn’t eaten in the last twenty-four hours.”
“I have s-…no, I really haven’t.”
“Well. That settles it.” T’challa clapped Tony on the shoulder and turned to lead them back out of the lab.
Bucky let go of Steve reluctantly, just so that they would fit through the door.
“You gonna be okay, Tony?” asked Steve as they exited, no longer talking about lunch.
“I’m… tabling that for now. We’ll see. Can we just worry about tech stuff right now? Promise I’ll have my emotional crisis later.”
“Can’t say anything to that,” Steve admitted. T’challa snorted. Bucky felt that they were probably all in the same boat, similar storms on the horizon. As soon as they were through the door, though, Steve slid his hand into Bucky’s, twining their fingers loosely and blushing from collarbone to the tips of his ears. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as a wave of affection took him by surprise. He wasn’t alone this time.
It would be alright.