Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Carrion Daybreak
-
Avengers Global Compound (AGC),
Upstate New York,
Midgard.
7:53AM.
February 5th,
2018.
-

It was with trepidation that former-Sargent James Buchanan Barnes stepped out of the sleek Wakandan jet. He was the last to emerge, hiding behind his childhood friend and the rest of the fugitive heroes. This place is foreign to him, more so than the arid heat and sprawling jungles of Wakanda. It sets him on edge, certain his fate would not be so kind as King T'Challa's heart.

"Welcome back," a wry figure, with offensively orange glasses and misshapen hair, greeted. He stood casually, hands in pockets, dressed in worn jeans and a faded black shirt. Beside him stood a young woman, dressed equally casual, cloaked in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. James glimpsed pillow white skin briefly before she turned away.

Anthony Edward Stark, supplied the darkness in his mind. Unknown female. Assessment pending.

"Tony," Steve greeted, smiling warmly at the man. "Miss Lewis." The Captain reached out to shake hands but was quickly rebuffed as Tony turned, angling himself towards the landing strip. Steve frowned and hesitantly let his hand drop.

Iron Man. Genius. Unpredictable. High level threat. Caution advised. 

Female identified. Darcy Lewis. Assessment pending.

"And how is everyone on this glorious American morning? Feeling chipper? Need some coffee? We have a long day ahead of us, kids."

To his left, the Widow and the Witch shared unpleasant commentary, a comradery in their nasty thoughts. Even the Hawk seemed unenthused with the man, although it reaped no surprise if their opinions were an indicator. Clint raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.

Steve had recovered from the slight, returning to his usual sunny disposition. "It's really great to be home again," he offered, trying to gain Tony's attention.

Tony hummed, lips pursed. "Shall we enter, then?" he swept a tan arm toward the lobby, "Lots has changed. You'll need a tour."

Steve bowed his head, "Lead the way."

James quietly followed after the others, mapping the grounds and itemizing escape routes. Widow and Witch continued to chuckle, sharing barbs and memories, with cruel delight that showed just how happy they were to be home.

It seemed Scott and Sam were more at ease. Of course, he thought, they were never a part of the Avengers until recruited after SHIELD fell. Which happened in part, if not entirety, because of James. 

As they walked, the group converged across the grounds, a strange tension crackling in the air. Relief was palpable, an ode to the year long estrangement from the only home most of them had ever known. It mixed with bitter resentment, like inky black oil and stagnant, cloudy water. 

For James it was strange. Strange like a deep summer haze, yet he was ice cold.

New York had once been his stomping ground. In a prior life he had run rampant across the boroughs, fighting ragtag groups of kids and listening to musicals in the back-alleys of Manhattan. But that life had faded from his mind and he only knew of it because Steve had told him so.

So nostalgia evaded him, replaced by caution and fear, and jittering nerves. No longer an American soul, he felt alone, deserted in his mind with only the Soldier's ominous presence to keep him company. He has no home but the raging howl of the tundra.

"You're going to need your room cards and a security check." Tony began, pushing the door to the lobby open. He strutted through like he owned the place, which James supposed was true, whilst Lewis held the door open for them. "Your biometrics will be uploaded into the database and FRIDAY will map out the compound on the Starkpads you'll get soon."

James listened as he gauged the five story building before he slipped inside. He calculated the height of the top story and the damage he would take should he need to jump.

One sprained ankle. One fractured shin. Weak spot: left knee. Time to recovery: 4 hours.

"After that's been done, you can settle in. You each have your own rooms in the East Wing, which is where Vision, Lewis, and Doctor Foster are. In those rooms you'll find a self contained kitchenette, wash room, and your copies of the Accords. Read them or don't, but I advise you do." Tony gestured towards a guard manned desk, seemingly unaware of the sudden change in topic, not to mention tone, of his spiel. 

Wanda bristled, but whether it was at his commanding voice, mention of the Accords, or having a security check, James was uncertain. If he had to hazard a guess, he would choose the latter. The Soldier disagreed, citing them all as Wanda's immaturity took little to ire.

"Security check? This is our home, Stark. Why do I need a security check? Is it not enough that I have signed the Accords?" 

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn't speak as a very tall, very broad black man stepped from around the desk, smiling warmly at them. "If you would place any electronics, firearms, metal objects, weapons, or combination thereof into the tray and then please step through, you will be permitted entry."

Without argument, Steve did as asked, dropping his sole duffel bag into the tray and moving through the scanner. "It's okay, Wanda," he placated, "It's just standard procedure. Right, Tony?"

"Yeup," came the clipped reply, "Everyone has to be screened once. Not singling you out, Maximoff."

Despite looking like she wanted to argue, Wanda held her tongue and lined up behind Natasha who gave the younger woman an encouraging squeeze. One by one they stepped through, with Lang having to redo it three times because of his belt buckle, iPod, and necklace ("Sorry, sorry. TSA always gives me hell.") before it was his turn. 

The Soldier frowned, muttering in Russian, but James simply followed suit and placed his bag in the tray before stepping through. 

A horrid beeping filled his ears, making him jump like a startled cat. Tony would have laughed if he thought it wouldn't end badly. Wide eyed, James stepped backwards, uncertain why the scanner beeped. 

"Sir, do you have any concealed weapons or cellular devices on you?"

His disused voice sounded even worse to his own ears than everyone else, but he shook his head and said 'no' regardless. 

Figuring it may be his boots, he untied them and took them off, feeling unrelenting eyes boring into him. It made him nervous and put the Soldier on edge, fighting him for control. When the scanner beeped yet again, James was ready to just strip naked and see if that worked, because damn if his hands weren't sweaty. 

The others were talking amongst themselves, some of it centered on their return but he could clearly hear Steve's worried whispers and Widow's questioning hums.

"It's his arm."

A new voice broke the foray effortlessly despite being quiet. And though quiet, this woman, this Lewis, captured the attention of the group. 

"His arm? But.. Bucky doesn't.." Steve trailed off confused, shooting James a questioning glance. He shook his head. 

"His arm is gone but the port isn't. It's probably made of a heavy metal."

James cast a scrutinizing look to her but again, her face was mostly obscured by the ratty hood, her height making it easier to conceal her form. 

Tony nodded suddenly, "Actually, yeah. Just wave him through, Jay, don't worry about it." The man said, flapping a hand carelessly. 

A small dawn of comprehension crept across both James' and Steve's faces. Crossing through the scanner with no more trouble, the group set off down a brightly light corridor.

"This looks different," Natasha remarked, finally acknowledging Tony's existence. James stayed to the back still, cautiously treading, kneading at his shoulder port as it began to ache. The stress of the trip alone had him wound up and feeling like a hairspring would trigger him- if he were a desert eagle with a bullet in the barrel. 

"Mhmm mhm, like I said. Lots changed. Anyway, here-" Tony stopped, indicating with an impassive face. His Aviators glinted in the light. Behind him a positively ginormous window bay took up a good fifty feet of the wall. "-is the employee rec centre. You're all free to use it but there is another one in the Center Block, and a third in the East Wing. It's mostly intel and tech staff who use this area but their Donburi restaurant is to die for, so if you don't feel like cooking just grab one. It's all paid for."

Unimpressed gazes scrutinized the large hall but no one said anything. Only a few employees inhabited the area, eating in small clusters. 

Without a word, Tony moved on, quickly showing them the public Med Bay, library, tech control room, and general area gym before they hit a security block. So far they hadn't seen anyone in the halls and it was almost eerie. But James didn't know what to expect. Should it be bustling with life? Or was the compound nigh vacant, waiting for the original team to reconvene? Everything was so foreign and abstract, his head began to pound. 

"Aight, listen up." Tony turned to face them fully for the first time, although he didn't remove his glasses and the almost inconvenienced expression never wavered. "This here is a Deadlock Passage. You need clearance 5 or above to pass through, and the further you go the higher the clearance. You are all level 7. All you need to do is present your keycard," he held up a thin white card that closely resembled a credit card, "And hold it up to the scanner. If for some reason the scanner isn't working just slide it in the reader. Capiche? Great."

"I don't remember that being here," Natasha quietly remarked, smiling softly at Tony. Immediately the Soldier scoffed, and James nearly did, too. The Widow was always looking for something. Always has an agenda. 

Tony didn't even twitch. "I know, right."

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a starkly different interior. Replacing the beige and white walls and harsh slate concrete floors was an intimidating deep blue. The linoleum flooring looked so inky it could have been a galaxy, and for a moment, they were mesmerized. Soft gray walls branched off in four different directions, and a glistening row of elevators lined up before them. 

"You are now in the Center Block," Tony intoned. James suspected the man didn't want to be here. In fact, he had probably been roped into doing it by the newly founded World Defense Council (WDC). And to be fair, James thought with a cold flash in his stomach, why would he? Steve and himself had bludgeoned the man little more than a year ago.

He had crushed the life from the elder Starks.

"From this lobby you can reach the East, West, and North Wings by following their respective corridors. There are signs. This bank of elevators will take you to the basement levels or to the upper floors, which you will be shown later."

"Christ," Clint muttered. "Do you even want to be here."

"No," Tony deadpanned. "Do you?"

Clint spluttered for a moment, growing redder and redder, but Tony never gave him a chance to lash out, swiftly leading them away. Soon, after trekking down varying corridors- "He's trying to confused us," the Soldier murmured - they arrived in a truly quiet portion of the compound. Squashed into a small alcove, the disjointed group were faced with a heavily fortified black doorway. 

"This is the entrance to the East Wing. There are two more entrances, one from the Upper East Wing and one from the North Wing. They are all the same. There is no clearance requirement as only select individuals may enter. That is you all, Vision, Lewis, Doctor Foster, James Rhodes, and myself. You merely swipe your card and that's it. FRIDAY, my AI, can also grant access to the Wing should the situation require it. Say hello, FRIDAY."

James jumped violently, to his retrospective horror, as a disembodied voice filled the room. It seemed to come from every direction, even leeching from the walls. His first instinct was to plaster himself against the wall in a crouched fighting position, but thankfully he managed to remain standing, even if his sudden startle had frightened Steve.

"Hello. I am FRIDAY. I am here if you need anything," came a lilting Irish voice. 

Darcy snorted quietly, muttering to Tony, "Bit snippy today."

Darcy Lewis. Southern Accent. Assistant to Doctor Jane Erin Foster. Origins unknown. Close affiliation with Anthony Edward Stark. Caution advised. Assessment pending. 

"I missed her voice," Steve said, although it came out as more of an awkward offer. Tony remained expressionless, didn't even say a word. 

"Anyway, this is also a Deadlock Passage, but it is reinforced. Unless a nuke hits the doorway head-on, no one who shouldn't will get through. So, here are your cards," he nearly threw the stack of them all tangled in lanyards at Steve, "And get settled. FRIDAY will direct you to your individual rooms. A charged Starkpad, the Accords, and anything else you'll need will be there. Okay. Great."

And abruptly, startlingly, Tony simply slid between them all and charged off, disappearing around a corner seconds later. An awkward, pregnant silence filled the air, before Steve came to and cleared his throat. 

"Uh, okay, let's see.." Steve fiddled with the lanyards, slowly pulling them apart.

"FUCK," Clint burst, tense and red, and all sorts of angry. Beyond the pounding of James' heart, the snarling of the Soldier, and his rapidly approaching anxiety attack, James could easily read the exhausted frustration on the archers face. "He's such a fucking asshole. Could barely stand to be in the room with us. It's like he knows he's a scumbag!"

There were murmured agreements, all from Widow, Witch, and the Falcon. Natasha tenderly wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, murmuring words of comfort. "Stark isn't like us, but he'll come around. We're home now, aren't we?" 

"Maybe you are," Clint trembled, "But I'm not. And it's because of HIM."

Lewis cleared her throat, lips pursed. "How about I let you in and you can go get fixed up?" Swiping her card, the door wooshed open and she disappeared into the hallway.

James and the rest followed, his mind a haze, and somehow he found himself in his new room. Sliding down the wall as his breath caught in his throat, panic bubbled up. Hysteria gripped him as the world went black.

 Rhodey pinned Tony with an angry glare. "Really? Really??"

"What, Platypus?" 

"You told FRIDAY to keep their arrival from me. Serious, Tones, we had an agreement."

Tony shrugged, "Dunno what you're talking about."

Wheeling himself around the desk, Rhodey smacked his chair against the inventors legs. "Dude, don't shut me out."

Tony let out an unbecoming grunt and threw his hands in the air. "What?"

Rhodey breathed deeply, bracing himself. Even though he knew Tony was only trying to protect him (which was touching, really) it still irked him. "You know I don't blame you."

"Yes, I know you don't blame me!" Tony shouted, finally losing his composure. "And fuck, Rhodey, I don't blame myself anymore either. I get it, okay? But that doesn't make it okay. None of this is okay. You're- ah, you're in a wheelchair most of the time, and I walked away after a week in hospital. Those PEOPLE," he jabbed an oily finger at the ceiling "Up there have no idea what they have done. And now they're in our home, walking free. They don't know what I-WE have had to do to get them pardoned, the SHIT we went through, and-and-"

"Jesus, Tony, breathe." Rhodey lay a careful hand on the genius' shoulder, feeling the shuddering breathes wracking the man. "Just let it out."

So he did. Dry sobs shook his body, tearing away his earlier aloof composure.

Tony could barely breathe. The past six months came crashed down on him like a freight train, baring the same weight he had felt all those years ago when he saw the helicopter in Afghanistan. Yet it didn't bare the same odd relief, and it didn't reassure him that there would be another way out. 

"I don't want them here," he choked into his hands. Rhodey grimaced out of pain for his dearest friend. "But if we don't have them here I just know something will go wrong. I can't explain it but it's been weighing on me since New York. Something is coming, Rhodey," Tony felt his mouth run ahead of himself, blathering fears he had held tighter to his chest than his reactor, "And I shouldn't be scared- I'm not really, not for me- but I can't sleep. I don't know when the last time I slept was because every time I so much as blink I can feel space closing around me and that fucking ship in the distance just gets closer, and closer."

"Tony."

"And I know I can stop it. God, I know I can prevent whatever the fuck that thing was behind it, but-"

"Tony."

"But it feels like the bigger threat is making its nest on the first floor of this awful compound."

"Tony!"

Gasping upright, Tony finally looked at Rhodey. The colonel looked aged and grim in that moment. "Why didn't you tell someone?" He spoke slowly.

He simply floundered, speechless. 

"You know we're here for you," Rhodey pressed on, nudging his wheelchair closer until he was almost in the billionaires lap, "Me, Lewis, Stephen, Happy and Pepper. Whatever we can do, we will. I got you."

Nodding quietly, Tony could do little more than lock eyes with his feet and wonder how it had all come to this. 

Had he wronged some god when he cheated death in that cave? Was this recompense for Stark Industries' weaponry? For his indulgent lifestyle or something else he had once spared little thought to? Or did it go all the way back to Howard, to his birth? 

From the moment that bomb had landed next to him in the desert, some primal and instinctive part of him he had thought long dead sparked to life. It coiled in his stomach with more than the promise of pain, with some ominous hint of the future.

Had he known what was to come he could not honestly say he would have tried so hard in the cave. Perhaps he would have, and made sure Yinsen lived, but then nobody would have to know how long he simply lay in the sand dunes and waited for death.

Maybe it was true, about the butterfly effect and time lines and string theory and all that mojo magic bullshit. 

But even through the fear and lingering anxiety, he felt such rage. Some days it was quiet, soothed by FRIDAY and Rhodey and Darcy, but other times the smallest sounds or movements would ignite the rage until it engulfed him. 

When that happened he would seal himself away for weeks at a time in the lab, toiling and building horrible weapons. Sure, he had washed his hands of the arms trade. But he had never said he would stop building them. Because how could he? Everyone wants him dead at best, and at worst he'd probably be shackled to a desk and forced to help HYDRA or Loki or who-the-fuck-ever to take over the world. 

So when he couldn't open his mouth for fear of threatening even his closest friends, he quietly made sure nobody else could do so either. He had discretely spent billions on a new arms trade- his own -and stockpiled what he felt could ensure Earth's survival. 

Surely that was retribution for his sins? 

"I got you," Tony repeated, smiling weakly at Rhodey's deep set frown. "We got this."

Maybe.

Chapter Text

1965,

Vladivostok,

USSR.

James' POV

 "it is so cold.."

Sub-zero winds howled across the fields. Blanketed in snow and dead silent, HYDRA's prized weapon stalked through shadows and across frozen creeks. In the distance, a farmhouse emanated warmth and safety. Pretty yellow light spilled on to the snow; calling to him, promising relief. 

Trapped in his own mind, a disoriented Bucky Barnes screamed to stay away. Anything but more blood. On the outside, Yasha, as he had been named, continued purposefully on. 

Within minutes the Soldier had reached his target. The promised entry point had been compromised by a small cat, so Yasha deferred from his instructions and chose to scale the piping. Landing in a childs' bedroom, the potential alarm was eliminated quickly, laid to rest peacefully beneath a quilt. 

Moving on, he eliminated three more small hazards before arriving at his target. 

An aged man with bloodhound features nursed a glass of whiskey. From his seat at the fireplace, he could not see Yasha looming behind. Once the Soldier's shadow fell across the wall, the old man turned in horror. 

"кто ты?!*" he cried, stumbling from his chair. "выбираться, выбираться!!**"

Yasha did not speak, simply watching the horror on the mans face. He knew, of course, who had sent Yasha. 

Drawing a nondescript handgun, a bang rang out, silencing this man as his grandchildren had also been. 

Trapped still, Bucky Barnes screamed in anguish. For the many children, the many innocents. Satisfied, Yasha raised a metal finger to his earpiece.

"Успех. В ожидании инструкций***."

AGC,
Upstate New York,
Midgard.
5:02AM,
February 6th,
2018

 James woke with a start; heart thumping, blood dripping from his bitten lip.

As he did every other night, he had dreamt of a memory so vivid he had believed himself actually there. Bile rushed up his throat, matching his pounding steps towards the toilet. Heaving, he lost what little remained of his lunch two days prior. 

Hunched over the bowl, he knew he could not return to sleep. Despite believing he deserved the tormenting dreams, James also felt a strong sense of cowardice, unwilling to present himself to another episode of horrors. 

At some point, he found himself wandering the dewy grounds outside. Cicadas chorused deafeningly in the early morning air. It was unseasonable, and the lack of snow added to his unease.

In these rare moments of solitude, he pondered his existence. Somewhere far away, James felt certain that a cruel god cackled at his misery. But he also wondered if the pain he felt was trivial compared to other. Did Stevie live in such a dim state? Natalia? They were as out of place as he. But Steve had gone under the ice in honour, even if it resulted in a new era so foreign. 

'Do I possess honour?' 

No. Of course not. Swallowing the anhedonia he often tried to hide, James' then pondered Natalia. She had as much blood on her hands, perhaps more. In a faint memory, he could recall Yasha training a vicious group of small spiders. In it, he was sure, Natalia had been present. They had been young and fair, unaware of the anguish they would soon wring. And yet despite their youth, they were all rusting from the inside out. Natalia had been the only one to graduate in distinction.

Perhaps she had no honour. 

But he knew she had willingly defected to SHIELD. She had been present in her own mind her entire life. So even if she had killed so many, she had chosen a path of forgiveness. 

No such path existed for him. 

Stevi-

"You're creeping me out."

Starting violently, James whirled around. Instincts had him ready to fight, to kill, with Yasha baying at his mental walls for control. The man- Stark- stood nearly swallowed by the darkness the moonlight could not reach, only the top half of his face visible. Slowly raising his hands, Tony stepped out from the gloom and into the light.

"Calm down," he spoke soothingly. Too soothingly for the sins James had committed, and thus he felt his soul wither a sliver more. 

Staring, James' licked his lips uncertainly. "'M sorry," he managed to croak out, shakily lowering his arms. Tony merely inclined his head, slouching comfortably in place.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Tony replied, calmly watching him. 

Floundering, unsure of what he should do, James' felt his hackles rising quickly. Before he could think on it anymore, he had already disappeared into the shadows and was entering the building. A soft snort echoed outside, quickly cut off as the door hissed shut. 

James choked upon his growing shame.

"That's hideous."

Looking back to her, Tony shook his head in dismay. Why was he surrounded by ungrateful idiots? 

"You think too loudly. I'm not an idiot."

Grunting, Tony dropped the wiring. "What's wrong with this baby?"

"Uh," Darcy drawled, "Maybe the phallic torso shape. Iron Cock? That's what you're going for?"

 Tony grimaced at her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She shook her head and turned back to her computer, effectively cutting the conversation off. Tony stared at her for a while, wondering if it really did look bad, before dismissing the thought. His new suit would be glorious, he could already tell. Of course everything he makes is a marvel, but this- this would be his crowning achievement. 

It had started as an obsession, not unlike most of his serious projects. The crippling fear of being trapped in an inoperable suit hadn't truly left him since Siberia. Seeding deep in his mind, the need for more had pushed him past previous limits. The scars on his chest still ached in the cold, and the rage towards his previous friends had only grown with time. 

Before him, a sleek black suit of armor. Already taller than the Mark LI, it towered at nearly nine feet. FRIDAY had suggested painting it with red highlights but Tony wanted something different. Something new. He hadn't decided on a highlight yet but the black would stay. It was the same obsidian as T'Challa's suit, something he had taking inspiration from (re: stolen). 

It had been two (or was it three? He couldn't be sure anymore) days since their arrival. He had thankfully not had to interact with them since then, and Darcy had not said anything about them. Knowing her own habits, she probably hadn't seen them either. Tony wistfully pretended they weren't actually in the compound, although the thought of their presence continued to pervade his mind. He couldn't shake it. Knowing they were here, lurking probably, he felt like a caged animal. Trapped in his own home. And yet he didn't even think of the compound as home, just as the tower hadn't been. Nothing could fill the void of Miami. 

Darcy said something, pulling him out of his head space. "What was that, squirtle?" 

"Please don't call me that," she sighed. "Richard's calibration just came through, you want to look over it?" 

"Deflect, defer, absorb. Don't bring it to me."

Darcy eyed him in the reflection of her screen. "I'm not Pepper," she said, unamused. "Yes or no?" 

Tony eyed her back, "Your hair is too dar-"

"I'll just read it," she sighed. 

Turning back to his suit's wiring, Tony lost himself for a while, numb but somehow still able to enjoy the bliss of creation. It was like music, only internal. Each crank of a wrench and twist of a screw sounded like harps to his beaten and bruised ears. Nobody had ever quite grasped the beauty of creation, except perhaps Rhodey. People tend to forget the striking Colonel had also attended MIT.

Some time later, when Lewis had disappeared from the lab, FRIDAY cut into his music and jerked him from inventing phase. 

"Hey, hey, hey, don't do that, Fri. Don't do that. I have a heart condition."

"Sorry, boss," FRIDAY sounded amused, "But the Rouges have requested a meeting with you. They want to know about the parameters to their Accords."

Tony dropped the blowtorch and slumped, shaking his head. Another thing he shouldn't have to deal with. "They have copies of them, why do I have to hold their hands?" 

FRIDAY did not respond so he gave up, throwing the welding mask off and making his way towards the upstairs conference room. Each step pummeled, a veritable hike, whilst the lights were blinding and pulled him down until he felt like he was suffocating. Firmly pulling his best media mask on, he charged into the room, startling the occupants as the door slammed. 

They stared back, unreadable, and it became awkward until Steve tentatively cleared his throat. 

"Tony, thanks for meeting us. Ah, we wanted to talk to you about the Accords."

Still Tony stared, waiting for someone to get to the point. Sighing, Steve gave up and gestured toward the file on the table. 

"We understand it, but the legal.. jargon, it's.."

"It's deliberately obfuscating." Natasha finished for him. She stood with her back to the wall. Calm and collected, if Tony didn't know better he'd assume she were just an aide. None of them, in fact, looked as harried as he felt and he supposed they were comfortable in assuming Rogers would spearhead the issue for them until it wasn't an issue anymore.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Tony eventually asked. Still standing at the door, it wasn't clear who held the power in the room. The frowns were expected, and so was the rising tension, but he refused to crack. 

"We were hoping you could clarify a few things," Steve spoke gently. Like he were placating a rabid animal. 

Breaking his mask, Tony frowned and considered it for a moment but realized he wouldn't be able to do it. Emotional, mentally, or time wise. Though he'd have rather flipped them off and laughed like a school boy, Tony also knew that legally they had a right to counsel. It was with resignation that he again offered them something he felt was just too generous. 

"I'm not a lawyer. I'll have a team come by and go over it with you all. They're already screened and can be trusted, and they've signed multiple NDA's. Anything you need or don't like, tell them."

They settled subtly. Rogers nodded and didn't say anymore, and again the tension grew with unspoken words and unspoken anger. 

"One more thing.."

Turning back to face them, hand on the door, Tony couldn't conceal his grimace. "What?"

Smiling sweetly, Natasha moved to stand beside Wanda who had, until now, remained mostly hidden behind both Rogers and Bartons' larger forms. 

"Wanda wants to start college. She never had the chance to in Sokovia. You can arrange that, can't you, Tony?" 

Bleakly Tony stared at them. First the spy, who was both smug and yet earnest, and then to rest of them, who simply waited expectantly. Unable to look at the woman in question, Tony floundered, and balked. 

"Tony?" Rogers asked.

Snapping back to the present and pushing the dark deluge of memories away, Tony nodded but didn't say anything. Decidedly fed up, he turned to the witch with the intent to be passive aggressive, but his words died forgotten on his tongue. Well enough versed in lies and subterfuge, the billionaire found something akin to remorse on the young woman's face. It made no sense and fell to a disconnect, short circuiting his thoughts. Rage once again swelled in his chest and all rationale left him. 

"Yeah. Talk to Rhodey. He'll get you a tutor." With that, he slammed the door behind him and vanished, leaving a shocked group of outlaw superheroes in his wake. 

"Did he.. did he actually just agree?" Clint spluttered. Steve stared at the retreating figure, mostly concealed behind frosted glass. None of them had expected it- in fact the whole point of asking had been to test Tony's limits. They stayed there, silent, before Clint broke the shock and shook his head. "I'll be fucking damned. Least he can do, I guess.."

Unseen by the rest of them, Wanda shifted uncomfortably. The plan had not been hers, and though she truly hated Stark with all her might, her parents had never wavered in their belief that a goose could only give so many eggs. Despite her attitude and the deep, painful resentment, Wanda was not stupid. She knew if they pushed too much Stark would likely just throw in the towel and be done with them. After the airport, she had been certain that her wrongs in HYDRA would culminate in a swift death but it had not been so. And she supposed in some way it were worse because now she had nothing but the Avengers. And though it were not a thought to scoff at, none would ever replace Pietro. 

The night prior, a certain long haired man had visited her. Wanda had never really spoken to Barnes. She had no opinion and no bias towards him, unless one counted her support for Steve. Thus, she had been shocked when he simply appeared behind her, breaking her careful meditation. 

 Calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm. Breathe in, bre-

A thick presence behind her shattered her thin concentration. Wanda whipped around so quickly her vision swam, and she gasped, about to scream, before a frigid hand clamped down across her mouth. Staring back at cold blue eyes, the young Sokovian felt true terror for a moment. Registering the figure as Barnes, she slowly exhaled, feeling some of her fright leave her. After a moment he seemed satisfied and slowly released her, then crouched until they were eye level. 

Barnes' breath wafted across her face every 5 seconds, their noses nearly touching. Eyes wide, Wanda had never been in proximity to such a singularly dangerous man before. His aura was a tainted, rusting grey. It scared her, reaching out to try leech life from her powers. Recoiling slightly, she gathered herself with a gulp. 

"Mr Barnes," her accent came thick, voice wavering slightly, "You frightened me."

There was a glimmer of amusement in the cold, bitter, hollow depths of his eyes. It vanished as fast as it appeared. Slowly, his head tilted to the right. It was creepy and put her even more on edge, though she knew it was either a calculated action or he was oblivious to her discomfort. Something whispered in her head, frantic, urging her not to touch his mind. That he would know, and she would hurt for it. 

Minutes passed as he watched her like a hound, when he broke the silence unexpectedly. "You are smart, girl," voice thick with an accent similar to hers. Wanda started, fearful. "But do not be confident in that."

Wanda stared confused, waiting for a revelation. When none came, he took pity on her, leaning forward with his forearms balanced on his knees. 

"Do not push Tony Stark. He is making amends. But his mind is fractured. There are monsters in this building, some you cannot see." 

He was so close- so close his lips nearly brushed her own and his eyelashes tangled with hers. Her heart had stilled and the static in her ears died, only his rabid blue eyes and slight, nearly invisible smile existed in her frozen state. 

"Goose or egg." And with that, he vanished. Gone. Like he were close enough for a hug one moment and had ceased existence the next. 

Wanda did not sleep, pondering the horrific aura she had seen, and contemplating how one man could instill such fear with words so lacking and simple.

With a fixed smile, Wanda thanked the others for their support. She managed to extract herself from the group, disappearing down a corridor as the rogues began to disperse. From behind a garbage chute, James watched the interactions play out. The unease in the group. Nervous tension. Expectation. 

Tony's arrival drew it all out and more. 

Emotional manipulation, the soldier whispered, contrasting Steve's genuine softness with Natalia's passive aggressive nature. Tony Stark affected.

But the more they watched, the less true it became. The billionaire faltered when asked about the witch, and with a sickening wonder, James marveled at the turmoil in Tony's head. The soldier lapped it up, thirsting to see more of this enigmatic man, to test him and push the limits violently. James felt a kinship that made him also reconsider the barrel end of a gun. James Barnes would never have any positive thing in common with any Stark.

And then Tony settled and agreed, and everyone including the asset was shocked. Shock would be inappropriate, more the soldier felt surprise and curiosity. 

Tony left and Yasha took over, eyes narrowing in on the witch. It seemed their conversation had been taken to heart. 

Mission: test Anthony Stark. Mission parameters: do not kill. Mission: accepted.