[ Bucky doesn't stay in Wakanda long. It's not that he dislikes it, or that he's unwelcome (Wakandans dislike foreigners, but not for the reasons one would think), but that he needs to leave. He's grateful for everything T'Challa has done, especially after their rough start and subsequent interactions; he even has a new, lightweight Vibranium arm to work with.
But New York. And unfinished business. Maybe some redemption, too...or condemnation. Could be any of those things. Bucky is tired of hiding and tired of running from his demons. There are still things he doesn't remember about himself or his life, and he has to know.
This whole thing could get him arrested, or killed. He's still legally a fugitive and probably still a war criminal, if not guilty of a dozen violations of the Geneva Convention. But if he wants one thing, he's got to face the other, and Bucky's whole life of late has been ramifications. What's one more to add to the fucking list?
Getting out of Wakanda was easy- T'Challa gave him an escort and enough resources to make it to the coast and across the Atlantic. Getting into America wasn't that hard either; Bucky has been a trained assassin and Soviet operative longer than he's technically supposed to have been alive. But once he's in New York, his nerves kick in, and he's even more on guard than usual, putting lots more effort into his disguises than 'baseball cap'.
Stark Tower isn't hard to miss. Bucky suspects that's on purpose. Steve isn't with him to explain it one way or the other; he's not able to go as many places without being recognized and snitched on. So Bucky, as usual, has to do this solo. The one insurance policy he has to fall back on is that T'Challa has paperwork designating Bucky as an official emissary of the Nation of Wakanda, and can claim diplomatic or political immunity in case things really go south. Bucky hopes it won't.
But at least the relevant parties know he's coming (sort of): T'Challa sent word ahead to Stark that he was sending someone on the Royal behalf for some negotiations. No further details given, just as mysterious as the country itself. Bucky takes a deep breath, adjusts his sunglasses, and walks into the Tower with left hand hidden in his pocket. He is immediately greeted by a very professional assistant, who shows Bucky up to the conference level floor and deposits him in a room by himself and promises Mr. Stark will be along shortly.
Bucky pulls his sunglasses off, places them on the table, and folds his hands on the glass top, eyes skimming the room for cameras or items disguising listening devices. Facial recognition software probably picked him up ages ago, but that ship has already sailed. At least he had the forethought to wear something decent; Stark is probably used to suits and attire meant to be taken seriously. He hasn't had a suit on since the 40s (he thinks), but it's comfortable enough, fitted enough so that he doesn't have to hide nor squeeze into it. Plain sight, and all that.
[Tony isn't sure what he expects from T'Challa's cryptic communique. Well, okay, he does know what he hopes for, and that's Steve, but the odds of that happening are pretty goddamn low. His letter had made that clear enough, and Tony can't say he's wrong. What he can do, and has been doing, is trying to keep from wallowing (mostly) and pick the pieces of his life up from where they'd splintered apart. They don't all fit back together, but he can't expect them to. He's just got to move on.
Moving on also involves moving out, and when T'Challa's mysterious emissary arrives, he's making the first preparations to have everything in the Tower packed up and shipped upstate. So he doesn't quite pay attention to security like he should (he's sure Friday would let him know if anything needed to be attended to) and instead makes some more notes on the cloaking mechanism for the plane that's got to transport some of the most powerful artifacts on Earth safely to their new home.
(No pressure there.)
He steps into the conference room, clocks the suit first, and then-
Then his fist clenches, clearly visible under the glass of the table, and the muscles of his jaw tighten. He flashes back to the grainy video, the dim light of the television lighting his face in the silo. The stomach-churning truth of what he'd seen, what Steve had hidden from him. He's spent months moving past the blind rage, trying to reason with himself. Trying to accept the truth, that Barnes hadn't been responsible for the murders of his parents.
He'd almost been able to believe it until he looked him in the face again.
No, he tells himself. One finger at a time, he relaxes his hand. Thinks about going to India after this, because he really needs to find some peace and serenity like yesterday. (Thinks about crawling into a bottle, about the entire liquor cabinet waiting upstairs.) Tries to ignore the calculations of velocity of his fist smashing into Barnes's face, the probabilities flashing across his brain of what might happen next. (How much strength it takes to snap one woman's neck with a single twist.)
He's better than this. He has to be better than this, because if he isn't, then what does he have left? Where has he come since that cave in Afghanistan? Maybe he's stuck back at square one, but it's better than ground zero.]
Barnes. [His jaw finally creaks open enough to let him talk, and he feels like the Tin Man in need of oil. Probably not the worst analogy ever.] They offer you anything to drink? [Fall back on the manners drilled into him since childhood. It's civilized, and that's what he needs right now, civility.]
[ Bucky feels the tension immediately ramp up when Stark sets foot across the threshold, clocks Stark's fist balling up, braces himself for an understandable onslaught. But Stark swallows it, swallows his rage, and Bucky feels his stomach drop. Cold anger is the worst kind, the most acidic, poisonous. It seeps into the veins and makes words brittle and venomous.
He swallows the lump in his throat, because he knows damn well he shouldn't be here so soona after... after. But he needs this, and he has both arms again, so unless Stark calls in an army of drones, Bucky can handle himself. And now Stark is forcing himself into being mannered, but Bucky can see the lines on his face, the tightness of his mouth, and the hardness of his eyes. Even the rote, mechanical recitation of pleasantries is strained. But that's all eventual, assumed. ]
No. I didn't ask.
I-- [ He keeps his hands on the table, well within Stark's view. He tries to make his body language loose, nonthreatening. He knows what Stark must see when he looks Bucky in the face, who Stark must see. ] --I came alone.
[Tony's gaze skates over the hand, the sheen of vibranium. No sense in asking who made it when the answer is obvious. (It's easier to look at, at least. Not the same weapon that killed his parents, and he can't quite manage to squash the curiosity about the mechanisms behind it. Wonders if he ought to talk to T'Challa about the connections between technology and nerves; maybe the Wakandans have something he could use to help Rhodey.)
But he has no intention of hurting Barnes, as much as part of him still wants to. It's a part he's working to banish, but he doesn't know if he'll ever succeed. Right now, in a suit, Barnes almost looks...vulnerable. And logically, Tony knows he is, that despite the muscle, despite the decades of training to become the world's most elite assassin, the man before him is broken.
As much as he might wish, his brain doesn't always work logically. Tony also wishes he were in one of his suits right now, that the latest model wasn't half-assembled in his workshop. He wishes he had a way to wear a suit all the time - but any therapist would say that's ridiculous.
(Tony says it's pragmatic.)
Behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, Friday scrolls security footage in miniature in front of one eye, invisible to everyone save Tony himself.] Uh-huh. I know. [He knows now, anyway.] You sure you don't want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water? Milk? Steve always likes milk, but he's a walking PSA.
[ And there's a flash of something in his eyes that he doesn't mention aloud, something that makes him remember Pierce. That cloud rolls by and Bucky shakes it off, internally.
And god, he feels exposed, vulnerable, naked, in a way he can't fully articulate. Stark must have eight pieces of technology running on him right now- scanning, tracking, measuring, assessing. Bucky shifts in his chair, notes the brief flicker of Stark's eyes behind the colored lenses he always seems to have on when not in the armor (it clicks then: a mini-HUD, or display of some kind).
And he bristles at the mention of Steve, but that's going to have to be a rough spot they work out later. Bucky is used to picking up pieces of what that guy starts. He takes a breath, decides to just come on out with it, asking for what he needs instead of stuff to prolong the inevitable. ]
I um. I actually came here to -- to ask for your help.
Yeah, well, guess you don't have to worry about bone density. [His tone is deadpan, classic Tony Stark. As if he's just sarcastically offering a comment to someone who isn't the man who murdered his parents.
(Barnes isn't the man who murdered his parents. He has to keep telling himself that. There's emotion in his eyes, a real living person. Tony's fought the Soldier, seen the difference between the two. It's just hard to accept sometimes.)
Tony sits down in the chair at the head of the table. It gives him an illusion of control, and lord knows he needs some right about now. He manages to keep from having a white-knuckled grip on the arms, folding his hands in his lap instead.]
You want my help?
[Eyebrows arch behind the glasses. Tony had imagined he might be here for some kind of amnesty deal, for himself, or for the rest of the team, hiding in Wakanda. He's not sure he could make that happen - but he's not sure what else he could have to offer him, either.]
[ This is an important correction for Bucky to make, a very important distinction. Stark needs to know the shades, here, the particulars.
And god, he hates asking. He's taken so much from Stark already-- his father, his mother, his best friend-- but here he is asking for even more. Bucky clears his throat, hates what he is about to do. He looks down at his hands, the mismatched pair of them, as if they hold the answer. They don't, and he looks up. There's another thing in his eyes: fear. His plea is the most vulnerable he'll ever be, and Stark could refuse him, send him out on his ass. ]
Ste-- I heard you had technology that could read into the mind. That you offered up the best psychiatrists money could buy before Zemo was outed. I'm here to ask if that deal is still on the table.
[Tony notes the way he starts to say Steve's name and then corrects himself. Is it because of the rift between them, he wonders, or because Barnes wants to distance himself from Rogers for whatever reason? (Christ, he can understand that. As much as he likes the man, as much as he can still feel the shards of their friendship splintering his chest like glass, there's a part of him that remembers how Howard always talked about Captain America.)
What he doesn't expect is what Barnes is asking for.] You want to use my- you want to use BARF? [A beat.] It stands for Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, okay?
[ Bucky and Steve go way back. But Bucky needs to do this on his own, needs to stand in front of the man he orphaned and ask for help without Steve complicating things.
And then there's a wide-eyed look of surprise as Stark describes what it is he has that can help Bucky's brain get back to normal-- BARF? Oh. Some name. ]
I just want my mind back. You might be the only one who can do that. Doctors, um-- BARF, whatever. But I can't live like this anymore.
You know what it does? [Tony doesn't wait for a response.] It hijacks your hippocampus and picks out your traumatic memories, projecting them onto a set. In essence, it makes you relive them. [And the memories that he's probably talking about aren't the kind anyone wants to relive.]
If you're looking to undo what HYDRA did to you, then- I don't know if there is a way, to be honest. [He pauses, weighing what he's about to say. There are about a thousand reasons not to, but Tony's never been good at listening to reasons why he shouldn't do anything. Which, to be honest, is how his life generally ends up in a clusterfuck.
But it's how he fixes things, too, doing what everyone else tells him is stupid. Risking it all on one dumbass idea.]
[ He doesn't flinch when Stark says he'll have to live through all the terrible shit he's done- Bucky has to deal with that on a near-daily basis, and near-nightly too. Nightmares are a pretty regular occurrence when he can sleep (all those years on the run makes his resting habits pretty sporadic, and light at that). Seeing the faces of all the people he's killed or the missions he's been on is something Bucky has come to accept as a form of penance; even if he wasn't under his own control, even if he was tortured and brainwashed, he still ended so many lives.
It's when Stark says that he might not be able to un-brainwash Bucky that Bucky's stomach drops through the floor, and he closes his eyes. The deepest fear he's had is that everything is permanent, that there's no way to undo the conditioning. That he'll be an automaton on a hair-trigger for the rest of his (un)natural life.
Before the despair can overtake him, a glimmer of hope. Or something cousin to that. Bucky looks up, daring to gamble. He can't help but sigh, and let go of the breath he'd been holding. ]
I don't have a way to pay you, or recompense you in any way... but I can do things. Anything, really. Whatever you'd need.
The main problem with BARF is that you have to build a set for each memory, so that the projections have a physical anchor. I only demonstrated it with one of mine, because I could build the prototype set to the exact dimensions I needed. It was one of the rooms in my parents' old house; we still had the furniture in storage for me to drag out and measure.
So what I'm thinking is that if that's the most effective treatment for you - and I'm not saying it is - then I'll need to...shit, I don't know. [His mind flips through options and discards them all.] Some kind of VR would work best, but it still wouldn't give you the tactile feedback your brain needs to help you alter the memory and work through your trauma. And, frankly, I'm still not sure it would do what you want it to.
[The human brain is essentially an elaborate computer; Tony knows that. And the only way he can see to fix this is to rewrite the programming - but he'll be damned if he has any way to go about it. BARF might be a stepping stone, but it's not much of one.]
Don't worry about it. [Tony waves a hand at the suggestion of compensation.] It's something that needs to be done, okay? I can't just leave you like this.
[ Both Steve and T'Challa had told Bucky that Stark had all the money he'd ever need, but Bucky came up in the 30s- one didn't just do things without giving back to the guy that helped you.
As he watches Stark begin thinking out loud, Bucky tries to keep up with all of the ideas being tossed about. There are challenges, practical or physical ones. Instantly, he thinks about the Russian bunkers underground, or the bank vault that Pierce met him in --no, that one wouldn't work, he didn't undergo any conditioning there. It would have to be one of the Siberian locations, or wherever it was in Germany (was it Germany?) that he fell off the train and was later recovered.
It's easy to get lost in the ideas. He'll have to sort through some of this before they even start. But he needs to clear something else up first. It's a turn of phrase that makes Bucky even think about it: I can't just leave you like this ]
Honestly, you could. You don't have to do this, for me. I get it. But... [ His eyes flick down to his hands, then back up, expression open. ] Why are you?
First reason, because you're a security risk, as I assume you know. [Tony ticks his reasons off on his fingers.] I solve that problem, means someone won't pull a Zemo on you again later and make the rest of us take you down. [It's not something he'd say to Steve - or maybe it would be, if he was feeling harsh - but he figures Barnes knows the truth just as well as he does.]
Second, because I tried to kill you before, and I admit, that might have been a dick move. [No matter how much he'd thought he deserved it at the time. Tony doesn't want his hands to be stained with more blood. That's not who he is, not anymore. (At least, it's not who he wants to be.)]
Third- [He hesitates for just a moment.] Third, because I think it's what my mom would've wanted me to do. She was a good woman, and I've done a lot to try and honor her memory. If there's one more thing I need to do, then it's this.
[ Well that first reason is a nice little buzzkill. Some stupid, long-underused part of him that could hope had hoped for altruism, as unrealistic as that might sound. But of course, the most glaringly obvious thing comes first. Stark is a problem-solver, and now a diplomat, apparently.
The next one, he wants to say something, explain that he gets it, Stark just learned that his best friend Captain freaking America kept things from him for the sake of his assassin best friend. Hell, Zemo even made the guy watch Bucky do it. He can't say he would have reacted differently under the same circumstances. Bucky keeps his mouth shut, because Stark is still speaking, and it's important.
Bucky has to keep himself composed for the third reason, because he hears 'mom' and his heart feels like it got stabbed with a dozen knives. He remembers the idea of his own mother, but can't place her face, or the last thing he said to her before he shipped out. It has to have been "I love you," but that memory is long-gone. God, what she must have gone through, knowing her son was missing-- probably KIA. She would have been humiliated if it came out that she was the mother of the Winter Soldier.
Stark's mother, on the other hand, would be proud of her son, what he became. And Bucky took that away. He presses his lips together, moves his hands to his lap as his chest tightens. ]
I'm sorry for what h-- for what I did. I know it won't fix it, or bring them back, but I want you to know that. I'm really sorry, Tony.
[There might be some altruism mixed in there, but it's not something he feels necessary to tell Barnes right now. Not when he's already admitting to more than enough vulnerability as it is, with the way his throat tightens and tears threaten to prick at his eyes.]
That's another reason. Because you feel remorse, and that means you deserve another chance. I didn't personally pull the trigger on anyone, but I'm responsible for a hell of a lot of deaths. A lot of innocent lives. And if I got the chance to try and make up for a fraction of what I did, then I can't do less for someone else. Because I'd want someone to do the same if I was the one responsible for their parents' deaths. I don't want to end up like Zemo.
[ That's what Bucky needs to hear. That they're similar, that they want to be more than what circumstances made them. Bucky knows a little about Stark's history from what Steve has mentioned, or T'Challa briefing him before sending him out with supplies and some advice, but there's so much more between the lines that speaks volumes.
Bucky hears the faint pleading of Maria Stark, but has to force that memory away. He looks up to Tony and nods once. ]
[Tony's bad at accepting gratitude. It's funny because he likes to do things for people - grand, stupid gestures, whatever comes to mind - but it's painfully awkward when they thank him. He just wants people to take his gifts and be happy in a way that he can't quite manage.
And he's not sure he deserves Barnes's gratitude yet. Agreeing to do something isn't the same as actually having any success.]
You'll have to stay here; can't have you wandering around the city. Sorry about that, but- [Surely he understands.] You'll have your own floor, free use of the gym, whatever you want. I'm actually getting ready to move everything upstate, to the compound there, so. Uh. That'll happen too, I guess.
[Since he doesn't think this'll be resolved anytime soon. Luckily, he has more than enough room in both places; he's just rattling around these days. The company, such as it is, might be good for him.
(Although he fully expects Barnes to spend most of his time here avoiding him.)]
[ Bucky's mouth tightens- out of one cage and into another. Part of the reason he came back was to immerse himself in the city, to go down to Brooklyn and see what's changed, what hasn't. Are there neighborhoods still standing? Bakeries or delis? What about churches or parks? Any of these things could be crucial to recovering his past.
But now he's being told he can't wander, and even as practical as the instruction is, Bucky chafes at it. He can't help but look a little crestfallen. ]
Look, Barnes, if it were just up to me, you could go wherever the hell you want. But you're kinda at the top of every most wanted list, and with your face being plastered everywhere, it's doubtful even you could avoid notice for long. And, frankly, I don't want to have to clean up that mess. Might even land me in jail, and that would inconvenience me for at least a few hours.
[And in spite of his flippant tone, Tony isn't sure that even his lawyers could get him off the hook with a treason charge. He'd probably need someone like Peggy Carter.]
I don't know yet. I'll have to make a few calls, see what I can do with BARF. Although if you can make Happy stop complaining about his voicemails, that'd be a good start.
Happy, he's- well, he's one of my employees. And a good friend. I put him in charge of keeping an eye on Parker - you know, the kid with the spider costume? Turns out Parker likes to leave him these long, rambling voicemails about all the things he's doing in Queens. Helping little old ladies cross the street, returning stolen bikes, stuff like that. Happy won't stop complaining about it.
[He's not sure how he feels about it, either. But at least the kid's sticking to small-time stuff, nothing too major. Not that Tony thinks that luck will last for long.]
What? [Tony looks horrified for a moment because he's leaping to what he really hopes is the wrong conclusion. (Look, the guy's an ex-assassin.)]
I mean, if you happen to leave the building, which I'm telling you not to do [and they both know he'll sneak out] you could keep an eye on the kid. Make sure he doesn't get in over his head. Just...without letting him know about it.
Not like there's a whole lot of trouble in Queens, but- [Something like that.]
Although, for legal purposes, let me state that I'm in no way suggesting that you should do anything that might jeopardize your, uh, already precarious legal standing. [In other words: don't get caught. Although, really, Tony's pretty sure that Bucky could outsmart the entire NYPD with one hand tied behind his back.]
[It starts small and slow at first, enough that Tony thinks it's a string of hangovers. He's getting older (god, he doesn't want to think about his birthday), this kind of thing is natural. Probably. But when he quits drinking and still feels dizzy and nauseated, long enough that it can't be the flu, he starts quietly running tests. By the time the first core burns out, his blood toxicity is at 6.5%. Not great, considering it should be zero, but he can fix it, given time. He'll find a solution, because that's what he always does.
Between his health, being Iron Man, and planning the Expo, he's long since forgotten about Nick Fury showing up in his office, about SHIELD and...whatever it does. He has better things to think about, frankly.
Better things, of course, happens to include anyone he spots with a good pair of legs, and there's one very familiar set he encounters at a benefit for- hell, he can't remember who the beneficiary is right now, not when he'd much rather focus on Janet.]
Jan! [Tony flashes her a bright smile and hopes he's got enough concealer on so he doesn't look terribly wan.] You know, I was just about to leave until you showed up to brighten up my night.
[Few people know how to liven up a party like Jan does. It's strange how he'd forgotten that over the years, but he's been bumping into her now and then as he spends more time on the East Coast. It's a friendship he regrets letting fall by the wayside.]
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But New York. And unfinished business. Maybe some redemption, too...or condemnation. Could be any of those things. Bucky is tired of hiding and tired of running from his demons. There are still things he doesn't remember about himself or his life, and he has to know.
This whole thing could get him arrested, or killed. He's still legally a fugitive and probably still a war criminal, if not guilty of a dozen violations of the Geneva Convention. But if he wants one thing, he's got to face the other, and Bucky's whole life of late has been ramifications. What's one more to add to the fucking list?
Getting out of Wakanda was easy- T'Challa gave him an escort and enough resources to make it to the coast and across the Atlantic. Getting into America wasn't that hard either; Bucky has been a trained assassin and Soviet operative longer than he's technically supposed to have been alive. But once he's in New York, his nerves kick in, and he's even more on guard than usual, putting lots more effort into his disguises than 'baseball cap'.
Stark Tower isn't hard to miss. Bucky suspects that's on purpose. Steve isn't with him to explain it one way or the other; he's not able to go as many places without being recognized and snitched on. So Bucky, as usual, has to do this solo. The one insurance policy he has to fall back on is that T'Challa has paperwork designating Bucky as an official emissary of the Nation of Wakanda, and can claim diplomatic or political immunity in case things really go south. Bucky hopes it won't.
But at least the relevant parties know he's coming (sort of): T'Challa sent word ahead to Stark that he was sending someone on the Royal behalf for some negotiations. No further details given, just as mysterious as the country itself. Bucky takes a deep breath, adjusts his sunglasses, and walks into the Tower with left hand hidden in his pocket. He is immediately greeted by a very professional assistant, who shows Bucky up to the conference level floor and deposits him in a room by himself and promises Mr. Stark will be along shortly.
Bucky pulls his sunglasses off, places them on the table, and folds his hands on the glass top, eyes skimming the room for cameras or items disguising listening devices. Facial recognition software probably picked him up ages ago, but that ship has already sailed. At least he had the forethought to wear something decent; Stark is probably used to suits and attire meant to be taken seriously. He hasn't had a suit on since the 40s (he thinks), but it's comfortable enough, fitted enough so that he doesn't have to hide nor squeeze into it. Plain sight, and all that.
God, he hopes this works. ]
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Moving on also involves moving out, and when T'Challa's mysterious emissary arrives, he's making the first preparations to have everything in the Tower packed up and shipped upstate. So he doesn't quite pay attention to security like he should (he's sure Friday would let him know if anything needed to be attended to) and instead makes some more notes on the cloaking mechanism for the plane that's got to transport some of the most powerful artifacts on Earth safely to their new home.
(No pressure there.)
He steps into the conference room, clocks the suit first, and then-
Then his fist clenches, clearly visible under the glass of the table, and the muscles of his jaw tighten. He flashes back to the grainy video, the dim light of the television lighting his face in the silo. The stomach-churning truth of what he'd seen, what Steve had hidden from him. He's spent months moving past the blind rage, trying to reason with himself. Trying to accept the truth, that Barnes hadn't been responsible for the murders of his parents.
He'd almost been able to believe it until he looked him in the face again.
No, he tells himself. One finger at a time, he relaxes his hand. Thinks about going to India after this, because he really needs to find some peace and serenity like yesterday. (Thinks about crawling into a bottle, about the entire liquor cabinet waiting upstairs.) Tries to ignore the calculations of velocity of his fist smashing into Barnes's face, the probabilities flashing across his brain of what might happen next. (How much strength it takes to snap one woman's neck with a single twist.)
He's better than this. He has to be better than this, because if he isn't, then what does he have left? Where has he come since that cave in Afghanistan? Maybe he's stuck back at square one, but it's better than ground zero.]
Barnes. [His jaw finally creaks open enough to let him talk, and he feels like the Tin Man in need of oil. Probably not the worst analogy ever.] They offer you anything to drink? [Fall back on the manners drilled into him since childhood. It's civilized, and that's what he needs right now, civility.]
wtf this is BEAUTIFUL (also nice HoCo ref)
He swallows the lump in his throat, because he knows damn well he shouldn't be here so soona after... after. But he needs this, and he has both arms again, so unless Stark calls in an army of drones, Bucky can handle himself. And now Stark is forcing himself into being mannered, but Bucky can see the lines on his face, the tightness of his mouth, and the hardness of his eyes. Even the rote, mechanical recitation of pleasantries is strained. But that's all eventual, assumed. ]
No. I didn't ask.
I-- [ He keeps his hands on the table, well within Stark's view. He tries to make his body language loose, nonthreatening. He knows what Stark must see when he looks Bucky in the face, who Stark must see. ] --I came alone.
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But he has no intention of hurting Barnes, as much as part of him still wants to. It's a part he's working to banish, but he doesn't know if he'll ever succeed. Right now, in a suit, Barnes almost looks...vulnerable. And logically, Tony knows he is, that despite the muscle, despite the decades of training to become the world's most elite assassin, the man before him is broken.
As much as he might wish, his brain doesn't always work logically. Tony also wishes he were in one of his suits right now, that the latest model wasn't half-assembled in his workshop. He wishes he had a way to wear a suit all the time - but any therapist would say that's ridiculous.
(Tony says it's pragmatic.)
Behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, Friday scrolls security footage in miniature in front of one eye, invisible to everyone save Tony himself.] Uh-huh. I know. [He knows now, anyway.] You sure you don't want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water? Milk? Steve always likes milk, but he's a walking PSA.
Rhodeyyyyy ;;
[ And there's a flash of something in his eyes that he doesn't mention aloud, something that makes him remember Pierce. That cloud rolls by and Bucky shakes it off, internally.
And god, he feels exposed, vulnerable, naked, in a way he can't fully articulate. Stark must have eight pieces of technology running on him right now- scanning, tracking, measuring, assessing. Bucky shifts in his chair, notes the brief flicker of Stark's eyes behind the colored lenses he always seems to have on when not in the armor (it clicks then: a mini-HUD, or display of some kind).
And he bristles at the mention of Steve, but that's going to have to be a rough spot they work out later. Bucky is used to picking up pieces of what that guy starts. He takes a breath, decides to just come on out with it, asking for what he needs instead of stuff to prolong the inevitable. ]
I um. I actually came here to -- to ask for your help.
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(Barnes isn't the man who murdered his parents. He has to keep telling himself that. There's emotion in his eyes, a real living person. Tony's fought the Soldier, seen the difference between the two. It's just hard to accept sometimes.)
Tony sits down in the chair at the head of the table. It gives him an illusion of control, and lord knows he needs some right about now. He manages to keep from having a white-knuckled grip on the arms, folding his hands in his lap instead.]
You want my help?
[Eyebrows arch behind the glasses. Tony had imagined he might be here for some kind of amnesty deal, for himself, or for the rest of the team, hiding in Wakanda. He's not sure he could make that happen - but he's not sure what else he could have to offer him, either.]
What do you want?
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[ This is an important correction for Bucky to make, a very important distinction. Stark needs to know the shades, here, the particulars.
And god, he hates asking. He's taken so much from Stark already-- his father, his mother, his best friend-- but here he is asking for even more. Bucky clears his throat, hates what he is about to do. He looks down at his hands, the mismatched pair of them, as if they hold the answer. They don't, and he looks up. There's another thing in his eyes: fear. His plea is the most vulnerable he'll ever be, and Stark could refuse him, send him out on his ass. ]
Ste-- I heard you had technology that could read into the mind. That you offered up the best psychiatrists money could buy before Zemo was outed. I'm here to ask if that deal is still on the table.
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What he doesn't expect is what Barnes is asking for.] You want to use my- you want to use BARF? [A beat.] It stands for Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, okay?
[He's not saying no. Not yet, anyway.]
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And then there's a wide-eyed look of surprise as Stark describes what it is he has that can help Bucky's brain get back to normal-- BARF? Oh. Some name. ]
I just want my mind back. You might be the only one who can do that. Doctors, um-- BARF, whatever. But I can't live like this anymore.
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If you're looking to undo what HYDRA did to you, then- I don't know if there is a way, to be honest. [He pauses, weighing what he's about to say. There are about a thousand reasons not to, but Tony's never been good at listening to reasons why he shouldn't do anything. Which, to be honest, is how his life generally ends up in a clusterfuck.
But it's how he fixes things, too, doing what everyone else tells him is stupid. Risking it all on one dumbass idea.]
But if there is, then I'll help you find it.
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It's when Stark says that he might not be able to un-brainwash Bucky that Bucky's stomach drops through the floor, and he closes his eyes. The deepest fear he's had is that everything is permanent, that there's no way to undo the conditioning. That he'll be an automaton on a hair-trigger for the rest of his (un)natural life.
Before the despair can overtake him, a glimmer of hope. Or something cousin to that. Bucky looks up, daring to gamble. He can't help but sigh, and let go of the breath he'd been holding. ]
I don't have a way to pay you, or recompense you in any way... but I can do things. Anything, really. Whatever you'd need.
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So what I'm thinking is that if that's the most effective treatment for you - and I'm not saying it is - then I'll need to...shit, I don't know. [His mind flips through options and discards them all.] Some kind of VR would work best, but it still wouldn't give you the tactile feedback your brain needs to help you alter the memory and work through your trauma. And, frankly, I'm still not sure it would do what you want it to.
[The human brain is essentially an elaborate computer; Tony knows that. And the only way he can see to fix this is to rewrite the programming - but he'll be damned if he has any way to go about it. BARF might be a stepping stone, but it's not much of one.]
Don't worry about it. [Tony waves a hand at the suggestion of compensation.] It's something that needs to be done, okay? I can't just leave you like this.
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As he watches Stark begin thinking out loud, Bucky tries to keep up with all of the ideas being tossed about. There are challenges, practical or physical ones. Instantly, he thinks about the Russian bunkers underground, or the bank vault that Pierce met him in --no, that one wouldn't work, he didn't undergo any conditioning there. It would have to be one of the Siberian locations, or wherever it was in Germany (was it Germany?) that he fell off the train and was later recovered.
It's easy to get lost in the ideas. He'll have to sort through some of this before they even start. But he needs to clear something else up first. It's a turn of phrase that makes Bucky even think about it: I can't just leave you like this ]
Honestly, you could. You don't have to do this, for me. I get it. But... [ His eyes flick down to his hands, then back up, expression open. ] Why are you?
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Second, because I tried to kill you before, and I admit, that might have been a dick move. [No matter how much he'd thought he deserved it at the time. Tony doesn't want his hands to be stained with more blood. That's not who he is, not anymore. (At least, it's not who he wants to be.)]
Third- [He hesitates for just a moment.] Third, because I think it's what my mom would've wanted me to do. She was a good woman, and I've done a lot to try and honor her memory. If there's one more thing I need to do, then it's this.
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The next one, he wants to say something, explain that he gets it, Stark just learned that his best friend Captain freaking America kept things from him for the sake of his assassin best friend. Hell, Zemo even made the guy watch Bucky do it. He can't say he would have reacted differently under the same circumstances. Bucky keeps his mouth shut, because Stark is still speaking, and it's important.
Bucky has to keep himself composed for the third reason, because he hears 'mom' and his heart feels like it got stabbed with a dozen knives. He remembers the idea of his own mother, but can't place her face, or the last thing he said to her before he shipped out. It has to have been "I love you," but that memory is long-gone. God, what she must have gone through, knowing her son was missing-- probably KIA. She would have been humiliated if it came out that she was the mother of the Winter Soldier.
Stark's mother, on the other hand, would be proud of her son, what he became. And Bucky took that away. He presses his lips together, moves his hands to his lap as his chest tightens. ]
I'm sorry for what h-- for what I did. I know it won't fix it, or bring them back, but I want you to know that. I'm really sorry, Tony.
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That's another reason. Because you feel remorse, and that means you deserve another chance. I didn't personally pull the trigger on anyone, but I'm responsible for a hell of a lot of deaths. A lot of innocent lives. And if I got the chance to try and make up for a fraction of what I did, then I can't do less for someone else. Because I'd want someone to do the same if I was the one responsible for their parents' deaths. I don't want to end up like Zemo.
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Bucky hears the faint pleading of Maria Stark, but has to force that memory away. He looks up to Tony and nods once. ]
Okay.
Thank you.
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And he's not sure he deserves Barnes's gratitude yet. Agreeing to do something isn't the same as actually having any success.]
You'll have to stay here; can't have you wandering around the city. Sorry about that, but- [Surely he understands.] You'll have your own floor, free use of the gym, whatever you want. I'm actually getting ready to move everything upstate, to the compound there, so. Uh. That'll happen too, I guess.
[Since he doesn't think this'll be resolved anytime soon. Luckily, he has more than enough room in both places; he's just rattling around these days. The company, such as it is, might be good for him.
(Although he fully expects Barnes to spend most of his time here avoiding him.)]
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But now he's being told he can't wander, and even as practical as the instruction is, Bucky chafes at it. He can't help but look a little crestfallen. ]
Alright. So what do I need to do?
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[And in spite of his flippant tone, Tony isn't sure that even his lawyers could get him off the hook with a treason charge.
He'd probably need someone like Peggy Carter.]I don't know yet. I'll have to make a few calls, see what I can do with BARF. Although if you can make Happy stop complaining about his voicemails, that'd be a good start.
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He listens to Stark explain, then shifts in his own seat again. Sorry, Tony, that nickname is just the worst. ]
...wait, who? What voicemails?
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[He's not sure how he feels about it, either. But at least the kid's sticking to small-time stuff, nothing too major. Not that Tony thinks that luck will last for long.]
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[ But-- oh. The Spider-kid. Bucky remembers. You have a metal arm? That's awesome!
Bucky had been too surprised by the kid's strength at the time, too surprised by the fact a kid was fighting him. ]
So, you want me to make him stop calling?
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I mean, if you happen to leave the building, which I'm telling you not to do [and they both know he'll sneak out] you could keep an eye on the kid. Make sure he doesn't get in over his head. Just...without letting him know about it.
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[ Just so he's clear.
And he would only think about sneaking out. Maybe. Probably.
Ahem. ]
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Although, for legal purposes, let me state that I'm in no way suggesting that you should do anything that might jeopardize your, uh, already precarious legal standing. [In other words: don't get caught. Although, really, Tony's pretty sure that Bucky could outsmart the entire NYPD with one hand tied behind his back.]
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I won't. Just tell me what I need to be doing right now.
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Between his health, being Iron Man, and planning the Expo, he's long since forgotten about Nick Fury showing up in his office, about SHIELD and...whatever it does. He has better things to think about, frankly.
Better things, of course, happens to include anyone he spots with a good pair of legs, and there's one very familiar set he encounters at a benefit for- hell, he can't remember who the beneficiary is right now, not when he'd much rather focus on Janet.]
Jan! [Tony flashes her a bright smile and hopes he's got enough concealer on so he doesn't look terribly wan.] You know, I was just about to leave until you showed up to brighten up my night.
[Few people know how to liven up a party like Jan does. It's strange how he'd forgotten that over the years, but he's been bumping into her now and then as he spends more time on the East Coast. It's a friendship he regrets letting fall by the wayside.]