WARNING: CAPTAIN AMERICA 2 SPOILERS AHEAD!
While this series doesn't strictly adhere to the MCU post Avengers, I have tried to work the new films in where possible. This story takes place two weeks after the fall of SHIELD.
"What the actual hell, Rogers?" Tony demanded running his fingers through his hair in exasperation.
"Tony, I'm really not in the mood for this," Steve let out a sigh, slumping in the clean lined metal chair, his legs stretched out underneath the long interview table. He stared ahead, his gaze fixed on the flat screen monitor that took up nearly the entire wall.
"Like I care!" Tony rolled his eyes dismissively. "On second thought, I do care! You blew up DC."
"It was a small part of DC," Steve protested.
"It was a pretty big explosion though." Sam pointed out. He tipped his chair back against the wall, sipping his coffee as he watched the monitor with a curious, if slightly detached expression.
"Our Nation's Capital, Spangles!" Tony barked, poking Steve in the shoulder.
"Hey, you can't complain about that," Rhody stated, shaking his head, his arms crossed over his chest as he lounged in the uncomfortable looking chair beside Sam. "It's one less hearing you'll have to attend in front of the defense committee."
"Screw the defense committee," Tony glowered.
"You tried that already," Rhody reminded.
"Tony, can you keep it down?" Natasha asked in exasperation as she paced at the back of the room, her phone pressed to her ear. Tony shot her a glare and she paused, throwing him a withering look before turning away. "Sí, he estado tratando de llegar a….. Sí."
"Hello, my Tower!" Tony snapped, he rounded on his friend with a dark glare. "Why are you even here?"
"Suit broke," Rhody shrugged.
"You broke the suit?" Tony demanded, affronted. "See, this is why you can't have nice things."
"I didn't break it," Rhody frowned. "A bunch of SHIELD guys who turned out to be Hydra guys jumped me in the middle of an op and I got my ass deep fried."
"His fault," Sam declared, pointing at Steve.
"Thanks Sam," Steve sighed, standing to his feet, his hands braced against the table.
"Steve, man, sit down," Sam coaxed. "Banner told you, the best we can do is wait this out." Steve collapsed in the chair again, scrubbing his face with his hands.
"Who's this guy anyway?" Tony demanded, waving a hand in Sam's direction.
"What, I'm not allowed to make friends?" Steve asked, though there was no bite in his tone.
"In this environment I'm not sure any of us are allowed to make friends," Tony snarked back. "Seriously, where did you find this guy?"
"He's the one who hid us while half the nations' military was trying to kill us," Natasha replied, her attention on her cell phone. She leaned back against the wall, her expression pinched as she dialed.
"Hell," Tony huffed, looking put out. "Does that mean I have to keep this guy now? Do I have to give him a suite and pretend I like him like I do with the rest of you?"
"You do like the rest of us," Natasha answered. "And I already had JARVIS settle him in." She shot him a challenging look, returning her phone to her ear. "Bonjour, c'est Natalii Rousseau, pourriez-vous dire monsieur Travert... Oui, je vais tenir."
"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Steve promised, never turning from the monitor.
"Did you think any of this through at all?" Tony demanded. "You're always riding my ass about being impulsive. What about Clint? Did you stop to think about him for two seconds before you dumped his cover all over the internet?"
"I didn't," Steve declared defensively. "Tasha did it."
"You are not my favorite any more," Tony wheeled on her with an accusatory finger.
"I was never your favorite, Stark," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Clint can handle himself."
"Yeah, that's why he's missing!"
"He's not missing," Natasha insisted, though there was an uneasiness about her manner as she said it. "He's gone to ground."
"If he's gone to ground then why was Phil so twitchy he stole my private plane to go to Asunción?" Tony demanded. "Where the hell is Asunción anyway?"
"Paraguay," Steve Rhody and Sam answered in unison.
"Is that a real place?" Tony asked in surprise.
"Phil did not steal your plane, Pepper gave it to him." Natasha rolled her eyes, turning away from him slightly, her cell phone balanced against her shoulder. "Bernado, faz muito tempo! Como estão seus filhos?"
"It's like the out of state license plate game," Sam observed. "Only with languages and without the smell of exhaust."
"And without my sister kicking me in the shins the whole trip," Rhody nodded in agreement.
"What are they talking about?" Tony asked in bewilderment.
"You're asking me?" Steve demanded. Tony drew in a breath, looking confused as to why he was no longer angry.
"Clint is fucking missing because you and your pom pom squad decided to blow SHIELD out of the water!" Tony bellowed picking up where he'd left off. "And now he's probably dead in a gutter someplace because no one's seen or heard from him in almost two weeks!"
"Is he always this wound?" Sam asked curiously, turning to Rhody.
"Hell, he hasn't even got steamed up yet," Rhody shrugged.
"He's not dead," Steve insisted. His eyes watering, a tight tick in his jaw as he stared at the monitor. The sound of loud, repetitive banging echoed through the metal wall behind the monitor and he winced, standing to his feet.
"Rogers sit down in the damn chair before I zip tie your ass to it!" Sam declared, his voice stern and even. Steve sat back down, resting his head against the table.
"How the hell does that actually work?" Rhody demanded, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"When we met this is basically what I was doing with my life," Sam shrugged.
"What?" Rhody blinked at him in surprise. "Watching crazy dudes in rubber rooms?" He paused a long moment, studying Sam closely.
"On the days I wasn't the one in the rubber room, yeah," Sam answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"I can't watch this," Steve declared softly, staring at the monitor despite his assertion.
"Well you're sure as hell not going in there," Sam snapped, propping his feet on the table and folding his arms over his chest. "You can go back up to the kitchen and make bad coffee or you can sit there until he stops beating the walls, but you are staying out of there until his head clears enough for him to make some actual sense."
"It's the Hulk cage," Steve observed forlornly. "We put him in the Hulk cage."
"He broke your arm," Sam reminded.
"Dude, seriously?" Rhody asked in surprise. Sam nodded.
"Dude's staying in the damn Hulk cage," Tony declared, staring at the monitor with a shocked expression.
"I was under the impression that wasn't even possible," Rhody admitted.
"It's possible if you hit him hard enough," Natasha interjected, her fingers flying over the buttons of her phone. "Yeah, Phil. Have you heard anything?"
"You blew up SHIELD," Tony glowered. "You compromised the personal security of every single Avenger, and do not sit there and blame it on Nat. She wouldn't have done it without you backing her. And now we've lost Clint, my friend. And you know something? I don't have enough of those to throw them away like that."
"You were on the list, Tony," Steve said softly. Tony's tirade ground to a halt.
"Excuse me?" he snapped cockily.
"You," Steve swallowed. "You and Bruce, Clint and Nat too, Jane, Thor, Betty, even Phil."
"The kill list," Sam explained. "They were going to activate the new helicarriers and eliminate all the threats in one go." He made an exploding motion with his hands, his coffee cup sloshing precariously in his grip.
"Son of a bitch," Tony murmured, his expression stunned.
"They were going to take you out," Steve declared thickly. "I couldn't… You can't ask me to… all those people."
"How many people are we talking here?" Tony demanded, horrified.
"'Bout fifty thousand?" Sam asked. Natasha nodded in reply and he turned back to Tony with a shrug. "You're welcome."
"Great," Tony groused, flopping into the chair beside Steve with a dark, brooding frown. "That's just great, you had to go and save my ass." He glared at Sam, his brow furrowing in disgruntlement.
"He's just angry he owes you now," Rhody explained. Sam seemed to consider this a moment before shrugging, returning his attention to the monitor.
"Hector! Mba'éichapa!" Natasha declared warmly.
"What in the hell was that?" Tony blinked.
"Iporãnte. Ha nde?" Natasha's tone was positively dripping with affection.
"Um, sounds like Guaraní?" Sam suggested hesitantly.
"She speaks Guaraní?" Tony asked in surprise.
"Among other things," Steve sighed, his attention still fixated on the monitor in front of them.
"What in the hell is Guaraní?" Tony demanded, leaning forward to glare past Steve at Sam. "And how do you have any idea what it is?"
"Special forces is a bitch," Sam declared emotionlessly.
"Damn straight," Rhody nodded in agreement. Tony gave them both his best 'shut the hell up' look before turning back to stare at the monitor, his shoulder bumping against Steve's slightly.
"Clint's dead, isn't he?" he asked softly, his jaw set.
"No," Steve insisted, though his eyes were shining.
"How come you didn't come to me?" Tony's expression was blank but there was enough hurt in his tone to make Steve flinch.
"I couldn't risk it," Steve admitted. Tony gave him a wounded look but Steve shook his head. "I knew they'd be watching you and the others. I couldn't risk you guys, I had to go somewhere they wouldn't suspect." Tony glanced away, his lip protruding in a pout.
"We're not going to lose the Tin Man too," Tony promised finally, nodding at the monitor. "Dad would never forgive me. I know people, neurosurgeons, the works. Whatever he needs, we'll get his head back on straight."
"I know," Steve nodded, his eyes swimming as he turned to Tony. "Thank you." Tony only gave a sharp nod in reply. The clatter against the walls of the Hulk cage abruptly stopped and Steve sat up, his chest rising and falling in rapid nervous breaths.
"Where… where am I?" The Winter Soldier's voice was thin and shaky and Steve bit his lip, brushing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Before he could move Sam was on his feet, one hand on Steve's shoulder as if to hold him in place. He grasped hold of the mic in the middle of the table, pulling it closer.
"Sergeant Barnes, you're safe Sergeant," Sam stated, his voice calm as his fingers dug into Steve's shoulder hard enough to bruise..
"Bucky," the Winter Soldier's head fell back against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes shining. "I used to be called Bucky."
"All right, Bucky, I'm Sam," Sam answered gently. "We haven't been introduced exactly. I'm the guy you pitched into the side of the building earlier today, right before Steve knocked you out. Do you remember any of that?" Bucky nodded slowly.
"Is Steve here?" Bucky asked.
"He's right here," Sam replied. "Do you remember Steve, from before?"
"Sometimes," Bucky answered, his voice faltering. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let him in here." Steve's face contorted in a pained expression.
"Bucky, it's going to be okay," Sam insisted. "We've got some of the best minds in the country looking at your medical scans and they think if you can just ride this out you'll get most of your memories back."
"Don't let him in here," Bucky repeated, covering his face with his hands. "Please."
"We're not opening the door until we're sure you're okay," Sam assured. "Steve's safe, you're safe. What you need to do is try to remember as much as you can. The more of your memory you can get back the more stable you'll be."
"Sam you can't ever let me out of here," Bucky insisted, bolting to his feet. He shouldn't have been able to see the camera but he looked straight into it anyway, hitting the wall beneath is with his fist. "You let me out of here and I could… do you have any idea what I've done?!"
"Bucky," Sam's voice softened. "You were captured, tortured and brainwashed. You might not even remember it yet, and I have to tell you, it's not going to be pleasant when you do. But we have you in the most secure facility money can buy and Steve's team is here backing him up. He is not going to let you be abandoned. Just hang in there for now and we'll all get through this." Bucky sank to his knees slowly, resting his head against the wall.
"Talk to him," Sam instructed, lifting his thumb from the talk button.
"What?" Steve asked.
"Talk to him," Sam repeated. "Talk about Brooklyn or his mom's lasagna or third grade. Hell, talk about the time he tried to get you laid, it doesn't matter."
"How did you know about that?" Steve asked, his cheeks coloring.
"Dude," Sam shook his head, slumping down in his chair and returning his feet to the table. "I've been friends with you less than two weeks and I've already had the urge to get you laid twice."
"His mom made potato soup," Steve corrected, his face still flushed. Sam only waved at the mic with an impatient hand.
"Hey," Steve swallowed. "Hey Buck."
"Steve?"
"Yeah, it's me," Steve nodded. "Bucky it's going to be all right. Hydra messed with your head. They didn't erase your memories though, they just repressed them. They're still there. Like Sunday dinner, do you remember Sunday dinner?"
"Mom would always try to feed you seconds," Bucky murmured. "Because you were so scrawny."
"Yeah," Steve nodded, his eyes misting, "and she'd hit you on the knuckles with a cooking spoon when you tried to steal a bite of my pie."
"She always cut you a bigger piece," Bucky pointed out, "and my sister called you her favorite brother."
"She only did that because you pulled her hair," Steve half scolded.
"And you didn't," Bucky nodded.
"She was bigger than me," Steve shrugged.
"She was two years younger than you," Bucky snorted. He paused, watching the fingers of his metal hand curl. "How come I can't remember her name?"
"It's in there, Bucky," Steve assured, drying his eyes on his sleeve. "It's in there, give it some time."
"I don't remember the Howling Commandos," Bucky admitted, pulling his knees to his chest. "I know… I went to the museum exhibit. I don't remember them."
"Just," Steve drew in a deep breath. "It's alright. Just try to hang on to what you can remember. The doc says if you can do that, the blackouts will eventually stop."
"What did I do when," Bucky paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "I remember you finding me, then it's all a blank. What happened?"
"You gave me a little bit of a rough time," Steve admitted gently. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"Steve?"
"Bucky, it's going to be alright," Steve insisted with conviction. "I swear to you, I'm going to make it alright."
"You always were a damn cocky little punk," Bucky huffed, tears marring his face.
"You're the jerk who followed me," Steve replied, his voice catching.
"I remember," Bucky nodded, his voice choked with emotion. "Steve, it's okay if I'm not... It's okay as long as you keep me from hurting anyone else. I've always trusted you, just, don't let."
"Howard's son is here, Buck," Steve interrupted, glancing at Tony who frowned at him in confusion.
"No kidding," Bucky declared, looking up at the camera. "He as smart as his old man?"
"Smarter," Steve answered, a smile curling his lips as he sensed more than saw Tony huff and retreat to the far corner of the room.
"So what, I should start shopping for places in Brooklyn?" Bucky asked.
"Nah, I think we can find room for you here with us in Midtown," Steve promised.
"Great," Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll just, what? Remodel Pep's shoe closet?"
"It's big enough," Natasha shrugged, still flipping through her phone.
"Think you're hot stuff now that you're a big celebrity, huh?" Bucky's voice faltered but he laughed. "I can still kick your ass."
"The last time you kicked my ass FDR was president," Steve reminded, rubbing the tears from his own eyes with a grin. Bucky's expression turned serious.
"Thanks for coming back for me," he whispered.
"Till the end of the line, pal," Steve replied.
"Till the end of the line," Bucky agreed, nodding.
"I can't find anything," Natasha admitted angrily. She folded her arms protectively over her chest, her brow furrowed in a forboding frown. "Phil hasn't had any luck either, it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." Steve let out a sigh, standing to his feet and crossing the observation room.
"We'll take shifts," he promised, rubbing her arms comfortingly. "We'll go out tomorrow in teams and we'll retrace every step. We'll find him Tasha."
"I'll buy more satellites," Tony offered. "Or Paraguay, can you buy Paraguay?"
"Sir?" JARVIS interrupted hesitantly.
"Can you not see we're having a moment here?" Tony demanded irritably. "What is it? This better be damn important."
"You have a... guest, sir," JARVIS answered.
"If it's Ross I'm going to beat his ass with a cease and desist order," he snapped angrily, turning toward the observation room door as it swung open. "Or my entire legal department maybe. I'll bet lawyers make good blunt weapons."
"What in the hell, guys?" Clint demanded, his hair on end and dirt and blood splotching his uniform. He stood in the doorway, his bow case clutched in one hand and a grubby, empty, paper coffee cup in the other. "Some friends you are! Where was my ride? And why did my damn SHIELD phone stop working?"
"Oh my god, Clint!" Steve tackled him in a bear hug before he could get out another word. Tony closed his eyes, letting out a breath as if he'd been holding it and Natasha slumped visibly, brushing tears from the corners of her eyes.
"We thought you were dead," she stated, throwing her phone at Rhody who barely caught it. "Call Phil." She wrapped both arms around Clint's neck as Steve released him. Clint patted her back with a slightly startled expression, eyeing Tony who was gripping his shoulder.
"Guy's what's going on?" he demanded in confusion. "My cover got blown. And seriously, I don't even know how that happened. I spent over a month setting it up! I call for an extraction and my cell is disconnected. My credit cards for my fake ID were rejected! I ended up sneaking over the border in a tequila truck! And when I finally get to El Paso, the SHIELD safe house is a damn crater in the earth!"
"SHIELD's gone," Natasha stated with a pained sigh.
"What do you mean SHIELD's gone?" Clint gaped at her.
"It's a long story," Steve apologized. "We'll tell you everything. We're just so glad you're okay."
"Yeah, fine," Clint let out a huff, turning pleading eyes on Tony. "Can we get food first? I had to borrow a car in Cincinnati and the tight wad didn't even have cash in the glove. I had to fucking dig in the seats to find change for coffee!"
"Is he actually bitching about how poorly stocked his stolen car was?" Sam asked, watching the reunion with raised eyebrows.
"You get used to it," Rhody shrugged, ending his call to Phil. He stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. "So what's your story, man?"
"I fly," Sam stated. Rhody nodded, his expression turned thoughtful.
"In a plane?"
"Nope," Sam answered.
"Figures," Rhody sighed.
Note:
This story is part of a series called "Coulson Lives but the Avengers Might be the Death of him." The full list of stories and their chronological order can be found on my profile page