Archive of Our Own

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There were a few nice ways to wake up, Bucky thought sullenly, one hand on his forehead as he curled back up into his pillow with a groan. By this point, he could firmly say that smacking his head off the wall, was not one of them. Frowning, Bucky reached a hand over to grab at Steve’s arm, his thoughts spinning. He must have switched places with Steve at some point in the middle of the night, because Bucky always slept closer to the door, the shift work he and Ollie did forced him to leave at odd hours. There was no need for both Steve and Bucky to get a terrible nights sleep, so Steve slept against the wall. It also meant that when Ollie crawled in through the window in the middle of the night, the cold air would hit Bucky first. Steve might not have liked sleeping against the wall, but if it meant he wasn’t going to get sick, Bucky wasn’t going to budge on the decision.
But, there was a creeping sense of wrongness crawling up his spine, and Bucky’s hand tightened on Steve’s arm. He had to wonder what the hell had he done the night before? For Ollie to just dump him in bed and for Bucky not to wake up on the floor with one of Steve’s infamous riot acts being shouted in ear.

“What the hell did Ollie convince us to do?” Steve groaned, his voice muffled by Bucky’s arm.

Bucky stiffened, the creeping sense of unease biting down into his ribs. Ollie might have been reckless sometimes, even an idiot, but he never would have put Steve in danger. And god knew, Steve and bottles didn’t mix.

Looking back, it was Steve’s breathing that tipped him off that something was wrong. Bucky had spent most of his life counting Steve’s breaths, hoping to god that there was one more wheeze in his lungs. Bucky had kept time through countless nights to Steve’s chokes and coughs, but now…

Steve’s breath hadn’t rattled once.

The peace in Bucky’s bones shattered.

The war, the pain, the fear, all slide into place in the back of his mind. Steve’s sudden appearance and good health settled him again, until he remembered Ollie’s capture, and the dangerous glint that kept appearing in the other man’s eyes.

And then he remembered the train.

Ollie’s screams.

The plane.

Steve.

Bucky sat up with a strangled shout and threw himself over the bed, both hands shaking as he ripped back the blanket. Steve. Oh god. Steve. He barely even registered Steve’s surprised gasp at the sudden cold air as Bucky ran his hands over Steve’s ribs, shoulders, and arms. “The plane.” He croaked, his hands clawing on Steve’s wrists. “The plane.”

The sound of rushing water and cracking glass echoed in Bucky’s ears and he watched in detachment as his knuckles whitened on Steve’s wrists.

The plane.

Peggy.

Schmidt.

Cold.

Water.

Pain.

Steve, not moving on the ground. Bucky, stuck under the consol. The water and the ice, raising higher and higher. His own breath rattling out of his lungs, each attempt making his chest scream. They were going to die.

They were going to die.

But they weren’t dead?

Bucky’s brow furrowed and he slowly looked up from the panicking Steve. This wasn’t the plane and it certainly didn’t feel like heaven. Ollie would have smacked them upside the head, cursed them out, and hugged them all at the same time, before dragging them over to Sarah for the same treatment. Hell, his own mother would have rattled his bones from his body for the stupid stunt.

Maybe this was hell.p>
But Steve was here, Bucky thought slowly, his fingers falling over Steve’s pulse point in a nervous habit. God couldn’t be cruel enough to send Steve to hell beside him. But who was he kidding, Bucky mused with a slightly hysterical chuckle? Steve would have cursed God and all his angels until he was blue in the face before marching down after Bucky like the idiot he was.

Steve grabbed at Bucky’s shoulders, forcing Bucky to focus on the fact it seemed like Steve was yelling something. It took a couple seconds, but it finally dawned on him that Steve probably was saying something but the static in his ears blocked out all other sound. But Steve was panicking and that’s all that mattered to Bucky.

No matter where the hell they were, at least Steve was with him.

At least Steve was with him.

Slowly, Bucky managed to get his breath to stop hitching and he let himself slump forward, his forehead coming to a stop in the cradle between Steve’s shoulder and neck. After the serum, Steve had become a furnace, blasting constant heat and Bucky wasn’t prideful enough to deny the fact that he had often curled up beside Steve, relishing the warmth before he was sent out for his watch.

Therefore, the low heat that pressed against his skin, did more to settle him then any words Steve could have said. The ringing in his ears began to peel back as he forced himself to relax and it wasn’t until he realized Steve’s arms were tightening around him that he thought about the fact this wasn’t his or Steve’s cot.

This wasn’t Ollie’s cot either.

Shit.

Bucky didn’t even have time to look at the room around them before he heard something move behind him.

“Sargent Barnes? Captain Rogers? I need you to calm down.” The voice prodded Bucky into action.
Before he could think his actions through, Bucky had spun around on the bed and pushed his back up against Steve, memories of the camps screaming through his head. The Germans had already taken Ollie from him, he wasn’t going to let anyone take Steve. Unconsciously, he tilted his chin up in challenge. “Who the hell are you?” he hissed as he reached behind him, grabbing onto Steve’s arm in a bid to keep him quiet.

Then a sense of foolishness washed over him, because there in a chair on the far end of the stark white room, was an old man. Grimacing in response to an old pain, the gentleman pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto a crutch as he swayed. “Agent Daniel Sousa.” He said with a lazy salute, his hand shaking as he completed the movement. “Pegs wanted someone here just in case you two woke up early.” His mouth twisted up into a small quirking smile, “I should have known better then to bet against her. Either way,” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, “can I expect you two to stay here while I go and find my wife?”

It took a moment, but it slowly dawned on Bucky that Agent Sousa wasn’t going to leave until either he or Steve had answered. “And if we try to leave?” the words were torn out of his throat in a low growl.

Sousa shrugged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Bucky’s protective hover. “Doors’ not locked.” He admitted, placing one hand on the chair behind him as he shifted his weight and poked at the door knob with his crutch, the door creaking open with little residence. “But I wouldn’t leave until I get back.”

Something in his easy manner set Bucky at ease. No guard, in his experience, was ever that flippant, nor were they that willing to show that the door was open. Slowly, Bucky nodded and after a moment, Sousa flashed him a grin before walking out the door. The door clicked shut behind him and Bucky flinched at the sudden silence in the room. Steve lowed his chin onto Bucky’s shoulder. “Well, we fucked up.” He breathed.

Without looking, Bucky reached up and smacked him upside the head, relief and anger fighting for dominance under his skin. “You.” He snarled, turning his head enough to catch the suddenly terrified look on Steve’s face. “You idiot! You broke the radar!” Bucky finished turning and grabbed onto Steve’s shirt collar, shaking him. It was a minor miracle that he didn’t put a hole in the cloth. “The one thing we needed. The one damn thing we needed, and you broke it!”

Steve grabbed at Bucky’s wrists, forcing him to stop and breathe before his voice reached another octave. “We’re alive, Buck, we’re alive! So, it must have worked anyway.”

At that rebuttal, Bucky clicked his mouth shut with a low growl. “You’re damn lucky Rogers.”

“You have no idea how accurate that statement is, Barnes.”

Bucky just about jumped out of his skin. As it was, he fell out of the bed in his haste to turn back around, again. On the ground, and tangled in the sheets, Bucky could only stare at the woman in the doorway. He knew that drawl.

He knew that drawl.

Why the hell did he know that drawl?

From the sudden intake of breath from the bed, Bucky could assume Steve knew that voice as well.

The woman in the doorway smiled as she absently pushed aside a white strand of hair behind her ear. “You two just love being difficult, don’t you?” her voice wobbled on the sentence, and Agent Sousa, who Bucky belatedly realized was behind her, tucked one arm around her hip.

“Peggy?” Steve breathed as he tumbled off the bed, absently taking Bucky’s hand to haul him up to his feet. For a moment, no one moved, and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was because of shock or fear. Peggy Carter was young, twenty-three at the most,- not this world-weary woman whose smile was trembling the longer they stood in silence.

Slowly, Bucky let his gaze leave the woman – it couldn’t be Peggy, it couldn’t be- and turned to look around the room. Aside from the fact there was one bed, there wasn’t much else in the room. Bucky could see two chairs and a window that was covered by heavy drapes. Maybe, they were in a recovery room at the SSR.

It was a possibility, Bucky mused even as his own thoughts scoffed at him. No recovery room would have put him and Steve in one bed, and besides after that display he had put on after waking up, Bucky rather thought he was lucky not to be hauled away from Steve on charges of ‘corruption’ never mind the fact Steve was his own husband.

If that woman, -not Peggy, maybe an older relative- had gotten wind from Peggy not to separate the two of them, it might explain why no one was bursting into the room behind Agents Sousa. Shooting a look back at the woman, the bubble of denial burst behind Bucky’s ribs. “If I open look out that window, what am I going to see?” he asked heavily, one hand reaching out to grab onto Steve’s fingers in a desperate kind of frustration.

“Darling.” The woman whispered, her hands shaking even as she stared him down. “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

There was an ache centered in the back of his skull that was telling him he was clenching his teeth together too hard, and it took a couple tries but he finally managed to unhinge his jaw. Letting go of Steve’s hand, he stumbled back to the window and gave the woman a bitter little smile. “Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.” He muttered, even as he jerked the curtain back.

The light blinded him for a moment, and he threw his hand up to cover his eyes with a hiss. When Steve gave a choked sound from behind him, Bucky withdrew his hand and looked out over a skyline that by all rights, shouldn’t have existed. A hysterical laugh spiraled up from his gut, and he only managed to stop when Steve put a hand on his shoulder.

“Steve.” He gasped as he stared out at the sky. Looking down was making him dizzy, mostly at the sudden realization that he was god knew how far up in the air. “Steve, we became Buck Rogers.”

Behind him, Peggy Carter burst out laughing.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Carter was married, Bucky realized distantly as he sat on the bed beside Steve. Across from them, Carter was curled up with her husband, their hands intertwined in an old show of comfort. In a distant kind of way, Bucky realized he should have been incensed on Ollie’s behalf. Carter was married and it wasn’t to Ollie. But, that was wrong, wasn't it? Carter was allowed to move on, the war had been so long ago.
It had only been an hour ago.
“Barnes, why Buck Rogers?” Carter asked, her head canted to the side as she stared at the two of them, a small smile flickering around the corner of her lips.
That gaze made Bucky want to duck under the bed. Awe and pity warred together in her eyes and a lifetime of denying debts and favours made him want to lash out. So far, Steve hadn’t spoken and Bucky didn’t blame him. He and Ollie were the ones who had devoured Sci-fi and adventure novels as if they were going out of style. Hell, Ollie had practically read through the library’s collection of Time Travel stories, particularly Buck Rogers. Personally, Bucky thought he had done so, just to tease Steve about Bucky becoming part of the family.
Sorrow itched deep in his bones, worse then when Sarah had died. Ollie was dead. There wasn’t going to be anymore teasing. There wasn’t going to be anymore tag-teaming Steve. There wasn’t going to be anymore silent card games when neither could sleep.
Ollie was dead.
Ollie was dead and buried.
Ollie was gone.
Steve squeezed his hand and Bucky tossed his head back, staring up at the ceiling, silently marveling at the clear lighting. “Ollie practically devoured the books.” Bucky could practically feel the blush radiating across Steve’s cheeks and Bucky allowed himself a low chuckle. “He used to tease us that we would become Buck Rogers one day. Except we’d appear in the early 2000's instead of Buck Roger’s 2419.”
Carter choked, her eyes wide. “Well, Ollie wasn’t wrong.” She gasped, her other hand coming to grasp at Sousa’s hand. “Welcome to 2007.”
Bucky stared at her, his hands white on the blanket at his legs. Ollie had always been uncanny, but this was too much.
This was too much.
“What?” he croaked.
Beside him, Steve shuddered once before grabbing at Bucky’s wrist. “Let me guess,” his voice was as dry as bone, “homosexual marriage became legal in Canada a few years ago.”
Carter blinked, her head canted to the side again as she stared at them with narrowed eyes. “2005.” She eventually confirmed, her lips bloodless as she watched Bucky and Steve exchange a look. “How did you know?”
Bucky ran a hand through his hair and yanked, the pain settling the reality that this was happening. This was real. Movement outside the window caught his eye, and Bucky turned to watch a plane coast through the air far above the city. “Lucky guess.” He murmured, fear curling up behind his ribs. “Lucky guess.”
…***…
They had been back for a week before Bucky lost it. Blame it on stress, confusion, maybe even a bit of fear, all Bucky knew was he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Carter,” he began, his hand hovering over what Peggy had gleefully called a stark pad “when did Ollie propose to you?”

He watched as Peggy froze in her seat, her head tilted down beside Steve as they played with some painting program. Even after having everything explained to him at least three times, he still didn’t understand how anyone managed to get something like H.G Wells and Nowlan had predicted into practice.

But this was Stark he was talking about.

Shaking his head, Bucky watched as Peggy lifted a hand to grasp at a chain around her neck. Mimicking the movement, Bucky's hand came to grasp at his own ring on his tag. He could only be thankful that Joseph's ring had stayed with him through the entirety of the war, even somehow surviving the ice. Catching the movement, Peggy's eyes softened for a moment, her fingers still on the chain. Then she shook her head, her other hand pulling away from Steve as she pulled the chain out from under her blouse and revealed a tarnished silver ring. Bucky had only seen it once.

For a heartbeat, Bucky could only stare at the soft expression that suddenly crossed the woman’s face. “Ollie had many secrets.” She murmured, her eyes flicking up to pin Bucky in place, her smile suddenly gone.

Steve put the starkpad down onto the table and gave Peggy a considering glance. “Not from us.” He said firmly.

But Bucky hadn’t taken in his eyes off Peggy and suddenly, he could have sworn there were knives twisting into his ribs. “He did.” Bucky said in agreement to Peggy as he thought of the name the German’s had whispered when he and Ollie had been captured.

Geist.

It was almost unconscious the way Bucky remembered how Ollie had curled up on his knee and told him of the spring of ’32, or how he had run out of a German wood screaming about an ambush. Ollie had always kept his mouth shut unless there was something worse coming. And, Ollie had always known things. Things, no one else should have been able to know.

Hell, Bucky still wasn’t sure how General Philips had allowed him to walk around the base. Ollie hadn’t been military or SSR. Ollie had been a civilian. Besides, when Bucky thought back to the amount of times Ollie had marched back into the barracks only hours before they shipped out again, he had to wonder what Ollie’s job had been in the war.

Ollie kept many secrets and not all of them were nice.

Peggy gave him a slight nod, as if she knew what he was thinking about, before turning to Steve with that same pitying look, she had given them when she had told them the war was long over. “Ollie and I didn’t love each other.” She said with a small smile, as if she hadn’t just turned everything on its head. Her gaze turned distant and she put the ring on the table with a small sigh. “I think if he had asked, once upon a time, I might have said yes. Just to see what would have happened.”

Steve stared at Peggy in confusion, but it was Bucky who managed to puzzle through the statement. “It was in your letter.”

Peggy nodded, her eyes opening in surprise. “You knew about that?”

Steve tentatively picked up the ring, his fingers shaking. “Ollie had a buddle of letters in his kit, Buck was the one to pass them out. Yours must have been in the post or something, cause I don’t remember seeing it.”

Peggy blinked but didn’t argue, and Bucky couldn’t help but wonder when the world had become so complicated. Slowly, the woman tapped the table, her lips almost bloodless. “It was difficult to be one of the few women in a male dominated location. Ollie gave me what little protection his death could offer.”

“But do you love him?” Steve questioned as he put the ring up to his lips in a mimic of his mother’s nervous habit with Joseph’s ring. That action alone told Bucky how thrown Steve was. Sarah had only ever done it after a particularly trying day, and she did her best never to let him or Steve see the action.

Peggy placed a gnarled hand over his, the minute shaking almost completely hidden, her gaze lost somewhere in the past. “Darling, I never got the chance.”

…***…

The room was never dark. Even with the curtains drawn, the room never seemed to get dark, and it was driving Bucky mad. He had spent months crawling through the woods and chasing after Ollie and Steve. When lights out was called, it was lights out, or else. But this room wouldn't get dark.

Hence, he couldn’t get the unease to stop crawling over his skin. Steve had always been able to sleep anywhere, Bucky, well. If he put his mind to it, he could fall asleep, but he had gotten used to being curled up in high places, his gun in reach.

Here, the bed was too soft.

There were no escape routes.

And the door never locked, from either side.

Even though Peggy and Daniel sat with them from sun up to sun down, Bucky couldn’t help comparing the room to that cell he and Ollie had been thrown into. Sure, here were no guards here, but there hadn’t been any guards there either. And he wasn't sure which room was worse.

And speaking of Ollie, Bucky curled over his knees as he tucked himself further into the darkness the closet could afford him. Ollie was dead. Had been dead for the past sixty-six years, (or was it three weeks? He always got confused at that thought). But, Bucky looked up through the crack in the door as he heard Steve roll over in his sleep, the sight of the blanket hitting the floor making him smile. Bucky should be dead too.

No one had said it, and he vaguely remembered the horrified look Peggy had given him all that time ago when they had raised a pint to Ollie. He remembered not being able to get drunk. He remembered waking up in the truck with Ollie and thinking that he shouldn’t have been able to see into the woods without his scope. He shouldn’t have been able to hear the way Ollie’s breath hitched when the boy dropped them off.

He shouldn’t have been able to hear his heart stop in panic.

Besides, why had Ollie lied?

Why had Ollie said they hid through the entire raid on the camp? Why had Ollie not wanted him to go to the medical tent? What was Ollie trying to protect him from?

Steve survived the plane because of what the doctors put in his blood, Peggy had been quite clear about that, and Bucky…

He twisted his arm around to look at the scar where the monster put the nettle in his arm. Bucky rather thought he survived because of the hellfire that was injected into his blood. Ollie had been a blessing when they had wandered back to Philips, able to keep the light away from his eyes and managing to help him filter out sound, not that he had realized what Ollie had been doing at the time.

Which lead to the question, if Ollie hadn’t helped Steve figure all this out, then how had Ollie known what to do?

Which brought about the next question Bucky tried not to think about, had Ollie been stuck with the hellfire too?

The thought made him flinch. The phantom touch of the ice and water curled around his legs, and Bucky fought not to jump to his feet. The air seemed a bit thin in his lungs and, shuddering, Bucky curled forward to put his head on his knees. Bucky survived the crash of the plane.

Could Ollie had survived the fall?

He lifted his head up enough to stare at his shaking hands. If Ollie had survived the fall and Bucky hadn’t taken the shot…

Then…

Bucky let his head thunk against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling and fought down the urge to be sick. If Ollie hadn’t died, then…

His hands clenched into fists and he forced himself to breathe. If Ollie hadn’t died from the fall, then he would have died from bleeding out. Ollie was dead and Bucky had to let this go.

He had to let Ollie go.

They were just soldiers and soldiers died.

Yet, Ollie’s expression of terror as he dropped from the train flashed across his mind and Bucky practically threw himself out of the closet, a yell gathering in the back of his throat. Somehow, between one moment and the next, Bucky found himself on the bed, his hands clenching the blanket as he stared at Steve’s surprised face.

“Bucky?” Steve muttered, already sitting up and scanning the room for what could have upset him this much. One hand scrambling for the shield that wasn’t there.

Bucky collapsed onto his legs, drawing the blanket up to his chest. “I didn’t shoot Ollie.”

A timid hand carded through his hair and Bucky did his best not to shy away. “Buck.” Steve began, his voice quiet.

Bucky shot up to his knees and glared at Steve, anger curling under his skin and crawling down his spine. “I didn’t shoot Ollie.” At Steve’s bewildered look, Bucky reached out to grab him, doing his best not to shake his husband. “It’s a sniper’s mercy to shoot anyone who would otherwise die slowly behind enemy lines.” The moment he whispered the words, Bucky wished he could take it back.

Steve looked devastated, the blood draining out of his face so fast, Bucky distantly wondered if he was going to pass out. Slowly, the other man pulled Bucky forward, knocking his forehead against his. For a moment, there was silence, and for once, Bucky realized his breathing was so much faster then Steve’s. “Bucky, no.”

Bucky struggled to pull back for a moment, before his head fell into cradle of Steve’s neck and shoulder. “Bucky, Ollie’s dead.” Steve’s voice broke on the man’s name, but Bucky didn’t comment as Steve managed to take in another shuddering breath. “It’s not your fault.”

Bucky wasn’t so sure, and as he drew back to look at his hands, he completely missed the look of guilt on Steve’s face.

But, Ollie was dead, and they were alive, and really? What greater sin was there then that?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Steve and Bucky had been back from the ice for two months and had moved to Howard’s ‘old’ mansion from Stark Tower. The fact Howard had more then one house still baffled Bucky's mind, but somehow, the mansion fit. The estate was sprawling and nestled well off the beaten trail, and while it was nearly impeccable from the outside, the moment Bucky had stepped into the estate, he began to laugh. Only Howard would call, various craters and black explosive marks slight damage.
But, during the move, Bucky hadn’t allowed himself to ask why they had moved, not when Peggy had looked so spooked. So, he and Steve had gotten up and packed their entire lives into one backpack. In some ways, Bucky thought it was rather sad he and Steve had less now then during what was now called the depression, but it was certainly more then what they had had during the war. And really, he figured he should just be happy he was still alive.
But, they had been back for two months and Bucky was holding on by his fingertips. Some days, he woke up, curled around Steve convinced this was all a dream and that the Hydra cells had never looked this good. Other days, he woke up to Peggy's cheerful shout and thought that Ollie had just come waltzing through the door, ready to berate both men for oversleeping. And then, there were other days, where it took everything he had to pull himself out of bed and drag Steve along with him. They were alive, he supposed he should be grateful.
But, out of the two of them, Bucky was still surprised, it was Steve who cracked first.
The conversation had begun innocently, in fact, Bucky hadn't even tuned in until he heard the longing in Steve's voice.
“Peggy, whatever happened to our apartment?”
Peggy blinked, and Bucky watched as she visibly pulled herself away from whatever she had been reading on her phone, and god wasn’t that an odd thought, and smirked. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”
Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. Peggy had no right to look that gleeful.
No right at all.
…***…
Bucky looked up the brick wall and felt like sitting down on the pavement and laughing until he cried. It was a museum. Their apartment had become a museum. Beside him, Steve must have had the same thought, because he leaned against the lamppost and began tp laughed so hard, Bucky had to reach over and smack his shoulder in a reminder to breathe. Steve might not have asthma anymore but Bucky certainly remembered when that had been his primary concern.
“Peggy, what the hell?” Steve eventually managed, the laughter still under his words as he pointed to the fixed-up building. “This place never looked this good.” He gestured to the alley on the side, “Half the time Ollie had complained that the fire escape was going to fall apart from under him.”
Peggy laughed even as she passed Steve and Bucky tickets. “Want to go home?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with laughter.
Bucky plucked the ticket from her hand and marched towards the front door, somehow more intimidated by the young woman who was leaning against the wall, scanning the occasional visitor’s ticket, then by his own drill Sargent from basic. Without a word, the girl took the ticket, scanned the barcode, and waved him through.
In some ways the fact no one ever reacted at seeing him, still made him confused, even more so when he saw Steve do the same thing. But, as Peggy had explained, his I.D said James Barnes, born March 10th 1986, Steve still got saddled with July 4th, and who would expect two young men to claim to have climbed out of ice from world war two? Hell, who would expect Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, rather then Captain America. Sometimes Bucky himself, didn't believe it.
Shaking his head, Bucky walked into the lobby. For a moment, Bucky swore he saw the outline of Mr. Chase, leaning against the wall, his eyes narrowed. Mr. Chase had been a right bastard and it been an open secret that the only reason the man had let them stay, was because Ollie had something on the man. Looking back, Bucky had to wonder what Ollie knew. Looking back, Bucky was still surprised that Ollie's smiling threats had worked.
Steve fell into step and they both paused at the sudden appearance of a beat-up old truck in the corner of the lobby. Bucky bit his lip in an effort to keep his grin from quirking into existence as he read the plaque that claimed the truck was his. Slowly, he leaned into Steve’s side. “Did you know I had a truck?”
Steve shook his head and leaned closer to the door. “No.” he said slowly, grinning as he pointed at something in the rust spot. “Didn’t Ollie set Old Man Mike’s Truck on fire that one time?”
Bucky paused and tilted his head, leaning around to see the front of the vehicle. Bending down, he had to rest his head against the pole that roped them off from the truck. “Steve, Ollie carved his name into the fender.”
Steve cracked up, his head shaking as Peggy walked up to them with a bemused expression. “Are you ready to see the rest of the museum?” she asked, taking the arm Bucky offered her when he climbed back up to his feet. “I’m afraid it’s a joke that rather got out of hand.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “You don’t say, Carter.” He muttered as they head up the two flights of stairs.
And then they walked into their apartment.
…***…
“I take it this isn’t what it looked like?” Carter asked delicately as Steve and Bucky rolled on the floor.
“There’s a table! And another couch!” Bucky howled as he cried in laughter.
They had had one couch. One. And one table, that was constantly covered with Steve’s work. The area that had been roped off as the ‘living room’ was Ollie’s bedroom. Some how, there were two couches and a coffee table, Ollie’s bed had been pushed over by three feet, making it so that it wasn’t under the window anymore. Ollie would have been annoyed.
The kitchen had a set of four matching chairs Bucky had never seen in his life, and worst of all, the walls were white. Steve had been drawing on the walls for years. At one point, he had even done a mural of all of their names, a sort of protest against Mr. Chase’s attempt to kick them out. Whenever the man had come in to tell them to leave, Steve would simply point to the wall and say but our name’s on it. At one point, it was even a fight to see who could keep the name’s on the wall the longest. Mr. Chase would break in and paint it over and Steve would squeak happily about having a new canvas.

Ollie had simply laughed.

Standing in the apartment, Bucky could see a manic look appear in Steve’s eyes as he took in the white walls. His fingers twitched and Bucky shook his head, grabbing at Steve’s wrists. “Don’t you dare. I want to see the rest of this farce.” He hissed under his breath.

Letting go of Steve, Bucky slowly walked up to the plaque, his fingers tracing the words. As amusing as the apartment was, there was one problem. Well, there was more then one problem, but the thing that stood out the most, was Ollie’s window.

The window was barred shut.

That window had never shut unless the snow was flying, and Ollie had been ordered to stay home. Even then, that window hardly ever shut unless Steve was coughing and there wasn’t enough money to try and keep the apartment heated to keep the chill out of the air.

In fact, Bucky took a look around the main room and suddenly wondered where Ollie had gone. Under his fingers, the plaque read that Ollie’s bed was Bucky’s. Moving into the his and Steve’s bedroom, he barely caught the sign that said this was Steve’s room.

Steve’s empty room.

The room had always been covered with paper and drawings. Paint had dripped down the walls, and when Mr. Nicola tossed his camera at Steve, there had even been a few pictures taped to the side of Sarah’s old vanity. But the drawings were gone, Bucky’s bat was missing from the beside the bed, and Ollie’s good suit wasn’t on the radiator either.

This was wrong.

This wasn’t his home.

This was a joke.

Bucky turned in place and caught Peggy’s arm. “Where’s Ollie?” he ground out softly, his gave flicking around the apartment faster and faster, trying to find some mention of other man.

Peggy shrugged, her hands coming up desperately. “I don’t know. Ollie had me destroy all records of him in the army but there should have been some mention of him in the public record.” She glanced around the apartment, her lips pursed together as if she had just realized what was missing from the museum. “I can ask though.”

Bucky let go of her arm and shook his head. It all kept coming back to that one word.

Geist.

Ghost.

On the nights where Steve was busy, and Bucky and Ollie had sat together on the couch, cards spread out in a game they had never really bothered to explain the rules for, Ollie had sworn that one day he was going to disappear. That one day, Bucky wouldn’t have to keep an eye out for him down a back alley because he’d have found a way back home.

Bucky wasn’t sure when Ollie had stopped saying that, but he did remember that Ollie had never once said what he was going to do after the war.

Not once.

So, was he overly surprised that there was nothing left of Ollie in the only home he had ever known?

No, not really. But realization still hurt.

He tucked his arm into Peggy’s and silently watched as Steve stalked around the room with a curled lip, staring at the white walls as if they had personally offended him. “Peggy,” Bucky began, his eyes flicking to Ollie’s bed, “I want to see Ollie’s grave.”

Under his arm, Peggy stiffened, her grip becoming painfully tight on his hand before she managed to release a quiet sigh. “This is the closest you’ll ever get.” She eventually murmured, ignoring how Bucky’s eyes snapped to hers in surprise. “Ollie wanted everything burned and forgotten, and we never recovered the body.”

For a moment, the world ground to a halt. Ollie had no grave, like Sarah? Ollie, the greatest man Bucky had ever known, didn’t have a grave. His name wasn’t written on any of the monuments like Joseph’s had been, and there was no family to mourn for him either.

It wasn’t fury that crawled over his skin this time, instead it was resignation. Ollie wouldn’t have asked for everything to be burned unless there was something going on. Unless he was trying to protect someone. Steve walked past him, a small grin quirking across his face, and Bucky had to wonder if Ollie was still doing his best to protect them.

To keep Steve and Bucky safe, as he had always done.

In some ways, he was afraid to ask.

Peggy tugged on his arm. “There’s a tomb of the unknown soldier a few blocks over. We can drop a flower in Ollie’s name, if you would like.”

Bucky could do nothing but nod as Steve came up and took his other hand, a chuckle lighting up Steve's entire face.

What had Ollie done?

…***…

Steve had turned to leave their old apartment, when it dawned on Bucky that Ollie had one other stash. Ollie had one place where he put everything.

The floor.

Casting a glance around to see if anyone was watching, Bucky jumped the rope and walked up to the mattress, pushing in to the side. Behind him, Peggy hissed something as Steve jumped the rope and came up behind him. “What are you doing?” he murmured, one hand falling on Bucky’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed not to make a scene.”

Bucky shrugged off his hand with a smile and gathering the frustration that had been clawing at his ribs, put his foot through Ollie’s floorboard. There was a small burst of satisfaction he felt when the wood clattered against something glass, and with another grin to Steve, Bucky leaned down and pushed aside some of the larger splinters.

There, amidst the splinters, sat the remains of Ollie’s stash. Reaching down, Bucky pulled out Ollie’s bottle of moonshine and passed it to Steve with a snicker. Then, frowning, he pulled out the other three items, Steve’s missing sketchbook from before the war, Bucky’s tattered copy of The Time Machine and a ring box Bucky had never seen before.

Putting the books to the side, Bucky flipped open the ring box to see two tiny sliver earrings. For a moment, he could only stare in puzzled silence. Ollie hadn’t had pierced ears and there wasn’t any girl he had been particularly close too for him to buy earrings. Confused, Bucky slid the box into his pocket as he stood and nudged the mattress back into place, grabbing the moonshine as he jumped the rope.

Steve grabbed the books, and Bucky linked his arm through Peggy’s. “Now we can go.” He announced, ignoring how she was staring a hole into the side of his head.

“And do what, get drunk?” she asked drily, her gaze focused on the moonshine.

Bucky held it up for a moment, contemplating the clear liquid. “You know, it might just do the job.”

…***…

Bucky didn’t get drunk. He got sick.

The next day, Bucky spent the morning cursing Ollie’s name for poisoning him. Steve and Peggy were entirely unsympathetic.

The bastards.

…***…

When Bucky finally hauled himself into the kitchen, he leaned onto the island beside Steve, and canted his head to the side, one eye on the pencil sketches Steve was flipping through. He had a small headache pounding behind his eyes, and dear lord he hadn't remembered hangovers like this. For a moment, he wondered if it was worth asking the question that had been bothering him since Peggy had told them the war was over.

Steve still woke up in the middle of the night, throwing himself forward for the shield while Bucky woke up and tried to grab for his rifle. In an abstract way, Bucky could understand why Carter wouldn’t give him a gun, but he didn’t understand why Steve wasn’t given his shield. Which lead him to opening his big mouth. “Hey, Carter, what ever happened to the shield?”

Yeah, he already regretted this.

Steve paused, his hand frozen on the last page of the sketchbook, his palm coming down to cover the drawing. At the table, Peggy had put her pen down and folded her hands together. Her mouth was pinched, and she had that apologetic look Bucky absolutely hated.

“Howard declared you two dead.”

The words came down on Bucky’s head with the force of a thunderclap, and his hand slid off the island as he sunk down into a seat beside Steve. Beside him, Steve had leaned back in the chair and tilted his head to the side. “Can you repeat that?”

Bucky clamped a hand on Steve’s leg. No, he did not want that repeated, not when there was water rushing in his ears and ice was forming around his ankles.

Peggy sighed, one hand dragging through her neatly curled hair. “Howard had to prove that he had found something if he wanted to stop his search,” she shook her head at something Bucky couldn’t catch fast enough, before she picked up her pen and pinned them in place with a look. “To keep you two safe, we handed in the shield and stole you away. As far as anyone is aware, your bodies are lost to the water and the shield was all we ever found.”

Bucky exchanged a look with Steve, seeing his own thoughts reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

What kind of world had they stumbled into?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Later that night, Steve plunked down onto the couch beside Bucky and offered the sketchbook to him. Startled, Bucky took it with a steady hand, confused as to what his husband was attempting to show him. Usually, Steve would hand a sketchbook to him, open to a page that he wanted an opinion on. Instead, Steve had handed him the entire sketchbook Unopened. And he wasn't saying a word. Concerned, Bucky noted that Steve was staring out at the wall of glass into the backyard of the mansion with a wrinkled brow, and for a moment, Bucky wondered if he should put the sketchbook down and grab at Steve instead.
Steve always talked. Even before the ice and the plane, the man was always murmuring something under his breath, if not outright chattering at Bucky. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was compensation for the fact it had always been difficult for him to keep enough breath to speak prior to the serum, or if it was because since Bucky had become a sniper, Bucky hadn’t spoken much at all.
And god knew, Steve hated silence.
Slowly, Bucky looked down at the sketchbook, realizing belatedly that there was a worn bookmark sticking out from between the pages. Shooting a quick look at Steve, Bucky scratched at the back of his neck as his other hand rested on the cover of the sketchbook. There was a soft curling of frost climbing up his spine and Bucky had to grit his teeth to stop himself from throwing the damned thing away. He had never been hesitant with Steve's work before.
Never.
But that was before the war...
And now...
Steve was still looking out into the backyard, shudders trembling down his arms and a burning sort of anger sparking in his eyes.
Bucky hadn't seen that expression since before they had shipped out.
He wasn't sure he wanted it to come back.
Closing his eyes, Bucky drew in a sigh and flipped open the book before he could take the cowards way out. He didn't want to fight with Steve. He didn't want to argue. Still, it took a moment for him to convince himself that the paper wasn't going to bite his fingers, before he could look down and run a finger down the page.
The paper hadn't bit or burned his fingers, but in some ways, he wished it had.
Biting down on the soft gasp that pooled in the back of his throat, Bucky forced himself to take in the drawing that had Steve staring out over the backyard with old anger. Ollie hadn’t been the best artist, in fact, he had been worse then Bucky, and that was a feat. But the one thing he had always doodled was a two-dimensional ghost. There were always zig-zagged lines at the bottom and whenever Steve would give him coloured pencils, Ollie would colour it red with blue eyes. Ollie had always called it Blinky but had never explained why he chuckled whenever he drew it on the corners of Steve’s assignments.
But here, the ghost was drawn big enough to take up the page and, as always, was coloured red.
Steve leaned forward to put his head in his hands. Slowly, Bucky placed the sketchpad onto the coffee table and stared at the way his husband was hunched over. He was missing something. He knew he was missing something. But he couldn’t figure out what.
“Steve?” he whispered softly, flicking his gaze between the sketchbook and the man.
Steve huffed, one hand coming out to wave erratically. “Ollie.” He eventually gasped, his other hand leaving his face as he turned to glare at Bucky. “Ghosts.”
There was a haunting kind of horror hiding int he edge of his words and it took everything Bucky had not to draw back into himself. “Ok.” He drawled out slowly.
Steve ground his teeth together and pointed at the sketch. “I heard mutters of a Geist during the...There were stories Bucky, about a man who wore no colours and took no prisoners.” Something in Bucky’s chest fell, banging against every rib on the way down. Slowly Steve tapped the picture, his gaze sharp. “I’m not stupid Buck, Ollie could draw one thing and he wasn’t subtle about where he drew it.”
Well, shit.
Steve leaned closer, his eyes flashing with something Bucky couldn’t catch. “There was a ghost in the war, Buck. And don’t you dare tell me it wasn’t Ollie.”
Bucky grabbed the sketchbook and hauled it onto his knees, seeing Ollie smile at him as he dragged a knife over the bark of the tree that held their sniper’s nest. Even ghosts leave marks. He had muttered as he blew away some of the dust from the character.

How Bucky hadn’t seen it earlier, he would never know.

But…Ollie’s screams echoed in his ears and Bucky closed the sketchbook with a snap, his gaze sharp. “Let it go Steve.” He whispered as he shoved the sketchbook back towards his husband. “Just let it go.”

Even ghosts need to be laid to rest at some point.

…***…

Captain America and the Howling Commandos at the Smithsonian.

The headline was blaring across the screen of the starkpad that was shoved in Bucky’s face. Glowering, Bucky leaned back and pushed down Peggy’s hand. “Alright, what about it?” he questioned as Steve snickered into his bowl of cereal, the previous night forgotten.

Peggy grinned and placed the starkpad on the table. “You wanted to know where the shield was.” She paused and flipped three tickets up in front of his face, “Well, I found it.”

Bucky dragged a hand down his face and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, we’re museum pieces.”

Steve spit out his cereal.

…***…

Getting into an exhibit based on your own life, should not have been this easy, Bucky thought wildly. Peggy had swaggered in through the door with a smile, nodding to the guards. Immediately, they had all snapped to attention and it took a moment for Bucky to fight through the urge to salute. Beside him, Steve hooked his arm through his and shook his head with a soft laugh. Bucky scowled. Of course the damned punk hadn't carried that habit through the war, who did Captain bloody America have to salute to?

“Lads, my nephew and his husband wished to see the exhibit. I hope you don’t mind.” Peggy sang brightly, her confident smirk allowing for no protests as she flashed a museum badge and ushered the two of them in.

Bucky wasn’t sure anyone would be brave enough to protest, even if they didn’t agree with her.

So, with his chin down and a baseball cap shoved firmly onto his head, Bucky towed Steve into the exhibit. Steve had wanted to go and had nattered at Bucky until the other man had given in with bad grace. The entire ride to the museum, plane ride and car trip included, was spent with Bucky steadfastly ignoring Steve's obnoxiously bright grin and gentle ribbing. Bucky did not want to be here, but if Steve was going to force him to go, he might as well get the trip over with as quickly as possible.

Behind him, bucky could hear Steve giggling.

These were the days where he wished for his rifle.

Turning the corner to where Peggy had explained the exhibit was, Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, stumbling when Steve plowed into his back.

For a moment, Bucky could only stare.

And then he smirked.

Steve was never going to live this down for as long as he lived.

The opening of the exhibit was a blown-up headshot of his husband, and while Bucky knew Steve was handsome, this was simply ridiculous.

All round them, children dragged their parents to different parts of the room, pushing buttons and crying out in glee when displays lit up. In the entrance to the exhibit, Bucky stood frozen, his grip slowly becoming tighter on Steve’s arm. All around him was the war, and distantly, Bucky could feel the frost climbing up his legs. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea and the glee from the poster wasn't going to be enough to make him march into that room. He wasn't going to move. No matter how much Steve prodded him in the ribs with his pointy elbows. Ice was crawling up his legs and Bucky needed to get out.

He needed to leave.

This wasn't going to work.

There were too many people.

There was a war.

This was a prime target.

This was civilian territory.

Where was their contact?

His orders, what were his orders?

Oh god, this wasn't...

Steve...

They had to leave...

They had to...

Where was Ollie?

Ollie would cover them as they bolted.

He always did.

Bucky could turn around as soon as Ollie sent them a signal. He had to get Steve out.

He had to get Steve out now.

There was ice in his lungs and Bucky was going to choke...

Fingers threaded through his and Bucky managed to close his eyes. Steve's gun callouses had faded, but Bucky knew every millimeter of those fingers. He had grown up holding Steve's hands as he had counted rosary beads and prayed through cracked lips. That was Steve's hand and the ice began to melt in his lungs. Slowly, Steve tugged him to the side of the exhibit, pressing him against the wall. "We're ok." The other man whispered, his own breath rattling in his lungs.

Bucky heaved in a shuddering breath. It was 2007. His name was James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038, and the war was over.

The war was over.

Somewhere to his right, a child shrieked.

In front of him, Steve flinched slightly, his hand tightening on Bucky's.

The war was over.

It was 2007. His name was Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038, and the war was over.

Even if it didn't feel like it yet.

...***...

After a while, Steve had managed to drag Bucky away from the wall, and when the crowd of students cleared, Bucky honestly wondered if the ice would be preferable to the sickening realization that he had his own corner in the exhibit. The Howling Commandos shared a wall, but Bucky, well, it seemed Bucky got his very own corner.

Lovely.

“I think I know how I died.” Bucky hissed out of the corner of his mouth, pushing Steve towards the mannequins in the back of the exhibit. There was no way in hell he was going to read his own biography and obituary. There was something wrong about the very idea. Looking around furtively, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see that Peggy had wandered off on her own and left them to their own devices.

She seemed to do that a lot.
Steve threw his head back and laughed, stumbling to the side playfully as Bucky stalked after him. “Alright. Alright!” he gasped, his hands up in surrender. "But you got to admit, its a stunning photograph."
Bucky shot a glower at the wall and after a moment, had to grudgingly admit it was a rather good photograph. Steve had taken it after all.
Huffing, Bucky shook his head as he stalked forward to the uniforms. They were nestled in the far corner of the exhibit, far away from his own corner. Although, as he stalked towards his clothing, Bucky could feel his brow furrowing. Oddly enough, the uniforms in place for Steve and Bucky weren’t theirs. Coming to a halt, Bucky tilted his head as he pointed at the clothing, hoping Steve would be able to note what was wrong.
And then it dawned on him. Steve’s 'uniform' was the one from the stage-show and his was the clothes he had lost in the bet with Dugan on who would win the fight between Logan and Ollie. For the first time in weeks, it had been Ollie. Bucky had bet on Logan. But what really drew his attention was that, there, in the middle, in all her glory, was the shield. She was still as every bit scorched and dented as that last fateful run, and Bucky was almost grateful the ice hadn’t washed away the final traces of Ollie’s sacrifice.
Whatever Stark had put in the paint, Bucky had to give him points, because the white star had never darkened until the train.
After the train the star had come back grey.
Howard had refused to paint it white again.
After a moment of silence, Steve swung an arm over Bucky’s shoulder and leaned down. “Where’s Logan and Ollie?”
Bucky did a quick head count, coming up short when he checked over the uniforms. Something in his chest dragged claws against his ribs, and behind his eyes, Bucky could see himself sitting beside the campfire, absently counting everyone’s head over and over, not able to settle down until he could guarantee everyone’s safety.
Ollie was hardly ever there for roll call, Peggy pulling him out for some mission or another. Logan though, Logan never missed roll call. Logan had often been their scout, but he always reported back in on time. Hell, Logan had been sent out to find Ollie more then once. Logan was a Howling Commando and Bucky couldn’t think of a reason for him not to be in the line up.
Then something else dawned on Bucky and suddenly Peggy’s absence made sense. Swallowing, Bucky did one last head count, realizing in horror that there were three people missing from the line up. “Steve.” He hissed, hoping to god it wasn’t true. That history couldn’t be that cruel. “Where’s Union Jack?”
…***…
The beast clawing at Bucky’s ribs wouldn’t lay still and, as Bucky stood staring at the white words on the wall beside the uniforms, he realized he was going to be sick. Logan and Ollie weren’t mentioned, instead Bucky realized in growing anger, they were considered the ‘unnamed support unit’.
As if a scout and a sniper were simple support units.
But Union Jack?
Bucky was positive that if he hadn’t had his hand on Steve’s shoulder, the other man would have punched through the wall like the dumb punk that he was. Union Jack, according to the exhibit, was a glorified myth, just like the Geist. Peggy had been written out of history in her own lifetime and Bucky wasn’t sure what was the bigger tragedy. That Peggy hadn’t argued or that there were thousands of little girls who would never get to see the hero that had wacked Steve upside the head with his own shield when he had gotten unruly.
Steve had two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and Bucky winced, recognizing Sarah’s tic of annoyance. Gently, he threaded his fingers through Steve’s open hand and tugged him towards the room that seemed to have a video on loop.
Whatever film was playing couldn’t be worse then the words on the wall.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After Bucky all but shoved Steve into the small room, he belatedly realized there was a five minute count down being shone onto the far wall. They must have just missed the ending of the previous show, because they were getting a few dirty looks as the small group inside stood up to filter out, oddly silent. Paying them no mind, Bucky tugged Steve further inside to sit on one of the benches. Steve might be big now, but it was hard to kick the habits of a life time. Part of Bucky was still waiting for Steve to latch onto his wrist, his lips tinted blue and his eyes wide. But in some ways, he figured it was better that he had those habits to fall back on. There was an anger sizzling in Bucky's veins and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive the world for rewriting history. Rewriting the history of three of the best people Bucky had ever known, but at least he had something else to focus on. At least this anger wasn't the only thing clouding his vision.
Steve had yet to take a seat, and it wasn’t until Bucky had walked into the brick wall that was his husband, that he managed to drag his eyes away from the countdown.
“Buck.” For the first time all day, Steve looked utterly devastated, the anger all but gone. “Buck?” he repeated again, his hand fluttering out to search for Bucky’s. There was something bizarre about the fact the hand that had pulled the trigger to murder countless soldiers, was the first thing this man looked for, for comfort.
Bucky didn’t want to look. He couldn’t. Union Jack? Gone. Logan? Missing. Ollie? A figment of his imagination. He didn’t want to know what horror had brought that look of loss into Steve’s eyes. But, slowly, he looked over, his body braced for another hit.
Ollie look back at him. The photograph was grainy, blurred, and Bucky had never seen it before. But, still, it was Ollie. The man was sitting on a curb in New York, a lit cigarette in one hand, a cloud of smoke billowing out from his lips, a hat was pulled low over his head, and in the background, Bucky could see Old Man Mike’s truck going up in flames. Ollie’s other hand was held up in the universal symbol of ‘fuck off’ and if Bucky hadn’t grown up seeing Ollie’s profile, he never would have guessed this was the boy that had marched to war. Because, Old Man Mike’s truck had gone up in flames six months before Bucky had shipped out and there was no hint of the war in Ollie’s eyes.
But it was the paper beside the photograph that had him doing a double take.
There, sitting innocently behind the glass, was an eight and a half by eleven yellowed piece of parchment. And typed in the center was the words Bucky had never wanted to read in his life time.
“It is our sincere condolences to announce the death of one Oliver ‘Ollie’ Yacob Bakker. He died defending Captain Steven Grant Rogers and his unit the Howling Commandos. His body was never recovered.”
It was almost involuntary the way Bucky and Steve turned to look at the screen. Bucky’s breath caught in his lungs and he stumbled forward to sink down onto the first bench he could find. In front of him, a little boy shushed a young man with a furious little scowl, before snuggling under the man’s arm with a squeak.
The countdown hit zero.
…***…
Bethany Collins was an old woman. There were laugh lines around her eyes and wrinkles in her cheeks that spoke of constant laughter, but it was the spark of anger in the lines between her brow that caught Bucky’s attention. On the screen, Bethany was sitting straight in a cheap plastic chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Off screen, a voice began the film. “Bethany Collins,” here the woman inclined her head sharply, “was the founder of the Smithsonian exhibit on the Howling Commandos. It is through her contributions that we have been able to piece together Captain America and Sargent Barnes’ childhood. This film, was recorded in hopes of furthering this exhibit.”
Bethany scowled slightly, not that anyone would have noticed had they not known the twins, and looked out off the screen with an expression she had to have learned from Sarah. No one else was as good at the glare of mild disappointment as Sarah Rogers had been. Bethany’s knuckles tightened before her shoulders shuddered once. “That’s not entirely true Andrew.” She spat sharply, one eyebrow arched as someone sputtered off screen. Bethany ignored the sound with what looked like long practice and looked down at her lap for a moment, her hands unfolding to reveal a crumpled piece of paper. “Two years after the war ended, I received a note.”
Here, Bethany tilted her head and closed her eyes, the words falling from her lips with the force of a thunderclap. “It is our sincere condolences to announce the death of one Oliver ‘Ollie’ Yacob Bakker. He died defending Captain Steven Grant Rogers and his unit the Howling Commandos. His body was never recovered.”
Her eyes opened and Bethany dragged a hand down her face before she looked to the side, her fingers trembling on the paper in her hand. “Oliver was Steve and James’ roommate, had been since before Sarah Rogers had died, not that anyone had ever asked why he was with the Rogers. A day before they shipped out, Ollie had come by to tell me he was sorry, and he begged me to hold onto a box.” Her smile trembled and she looked down to her lap, her hands moving to show a space about the size of a shoe box. “Ollie had given me every piece of jewelry he had salvaged from Sarah’s jewelry box and anything of sentimental value the boys had for themselves. It would be the last time I saw him alive.”
The was a slight pause and Bethany’s hands dropped down into her lap again. “My own husband had already been shipped off and I had been raising two young boys on my own. The boys across the hall had helped keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. In some ways, I probably owe them my boy’s lives. Times were harder then I would like to admit, and it was only through Ollie’s continued support that there was always food on my table.” That spark of anger appeared in her eyes again and Bethany leaned forward slightly. “I am ashamed to admit, I had forgotten about the three of them until Steven’s death had been released. That was the moment I wondered what had happened to Ollie.”
The chuckle that dropped from Bethany’s mouth was wet, and Bucky was horrified to see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “God knew, that boy would have marched after Steve and Bucky no matter what the army had told him. You see, Ollie was unfit for the army. It was something to do with his family history, I think. In all honesty, I had never asked. But, I think the moment I had heard about Steve and Bucky, I knew he was dead.”
She paused, her hands shaking even as someone passed her a handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes. “I had hopped, but…” she trailed off, her gaze coming back to the camera. “Two years later, I got the letter.” Her breath shuddered and she shook her head quickly. “That was when I swore to burry my boys.” She smiled softly, her fingers worrying at the edge of the handkerchief. “Millions mourned for my boys, but no one buried them. Mr. Stark told me that there was no body to burry for Ollie, and with the other two? MIA?” she shook her head again, a smirk crossing her lips. “I was told to give up hope.”
Bethany’s back straightened and she lifted her chin up in pride. “Instead, I began to ask questions, and I learned that Oliver Bakker, was the guardian angel of the block. In the nine years since he had appeared in Brooklyn, Ollie had organized an entire network of single mothers and desperate fathers to keep children off the street. He had urged dozens of children to stay in school and he worked jobs I would have throttled him over had I known about them, in order to keep food on other people’s tables.” Bethany gave a shaky smile and she ran a hand through her hair as her eyes became a little glazed. “The boy had taught us to budget and pool resources. Most of us couldn’t afford doctors, but Ollie knew at least three nurses and had favours from here to Timbuctoo. Food wasn’t too difficult to come by and rent, well the rent always seemed to be paid on time.”
She laughed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she grinned at something no one would ever be able to understand. “Ollie was an orphan. He never finished high school. And one day, he simply disappeared.”
Slowly, Bethany looked back to the camera, her lips pursed together bloodlessly. “Thousands mourned for Captain America and Sargent Barnes, but no one mourned for Oliver Yacob Bakker, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes, and I think that’s a tragedy.” Something in Bethany’s eyes changed, and suddenly she looked every bit the harried mother that had lived across the hall. “I want to burry my boys together.”
The room seemed to hold its breath and Bethany appeared almost desperate, her gaze pinning the camera in place. “Please. Let me burry my boys.” Her voice broke on the last word and Bethany broke down in tears.
The film stuttered to a halt on the frame of two men rushing forward to comfort Bethany and Bucky realized with a shock, it was the twins.
In the silence, the light flickered, and the projector tossed up a screen Bucky almost wished would go away. Anyone with information on Oliver Bakker are urged to contact Bethany Collins or the Smithsonian directly. And underneath, was the one picture Bucky thought had been destroyed by Mr. Chase after Sarah had died.
There, sitting on the fire escape Ollie had always claimed was a wreck, was a fourteen-year-old Ollie, both arms thrown over Bucky and Steve’s shoulders. Bucky didn’t remember the day well, but he did remember that it was the one-time Sarah had managed to convince Mr. Nicolai from one floor up, to take a ‘professional’ photo of her three boys. At the last second, Ollie had thrown his head back in laughter and pushed Bucky and Steve together, their limbs tangling.
Mr. Nicolai had yelled at them for a solid five minutes, but Sarah had absolutely adored the photo. The last time Bucky had seen it was the same day Mr. Chase had come to kick them out. He had marched out with the photo and Ollie had left ten minutes later. Bucky should have known that Ollie had gotten it back and hidden it, he had done it with enough other things that it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
…***…
The countdown appeared back on the screen and Bucky absently wondered if letting Steve punch the wall earlier would have been easier then watching that film. “Did you know…” he trailed off, his hand gesturing to the wall absently.
Steve shook his head, his gaze fixed onto the countdown. “No.” he whispered, his gaze flicking to the wall where Ollie’s letter and picture were lit with a soft light. “But at least someone else…” he couldn’t finish the sentence but Bucky understood what he meant.
“Yeah.” Bucky whispered, one hand coming up to curl around the back of his neck. In some ways, he wondered if he really knew Ollie at all.
…***…
There was one other picture of Ollie in the exhibit. Tucked in the wall of photographs, was an elementary school graduating class photo. There, in the middle, tucked beside Bucky, was Ollie. He was almost covered up the boys around him, and for the first time, Bucky realized how much smaller Ollie was then the rest of the class, even the girls.
Bucky was just about to turn and walk away from the exhibit, when something tugged on the corner of his jacket. Jumping slightly, he looked down in surprise at a little girl. Her long blond hair was braided over one shoulder and she looked slightly ridiculous in a suit that was obviously not meant for her to wear.
For a moment, neither of them spoke and it was with another jolt of surprise that Bucky realized the girl was beckoning for him to lean closer. Sharing a glance with Steve, Bucky eventually knelt on the ground, his husband copying the movement.
The girl tilted her head and looked up at the wall before pursing her lips and leaning closer. “Are you okay Sargent?”
If it wasn’t for the fact Bucky’s legs were locked in place, he probably would have landed flat on his back from shock. Beside him, Steve did jolt and catch himself on Bucky’s shoulder. Peggy had said no one knew they were back, so how the hell did this child know them?
How did….
The girl tilted her head the other way, looking for all the world like the camp dogs when confused at the catcalls the drunk soldiers tossed their way. “Was I not supposed to call you that?” the girl stage whispered, her face falling in dismay. “I mean, you guys aren’t really old enough to be called Mr. and Opa said I should always acknowledge titles, like how I’m heir, but I don’t know if you still want your titles and…”
The girl would have kept babbling had Steve not reached out and tweaked the tip of her braid. “Steve and Bucky are just fine.” He soothed, keeping his hand out for her to shake.
It was almost amusing the way the girl straightened her shoulders and attempted to compose herself. “My name is Ollie Bakker.” She said proudly, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “And I thought you guys looked like you needed a distraction before you punched the wall like Andy does when he’s having a bad day.”
And suddenly the world had been tugged out from under Bucky’s feet once again, and Steve, god bless Steve, simply stumbled up to his feet and did a comical double take between the picture on the wall and the little girl standing in front of Bucky.
The girl smiled and bounced on her toes, both hands fiddling with her hair. “If you want…”
From across the room, there was a loud “Olivia Devera Maria Bakker!” and the girl’s shoulders were suddenly curled around her ears.
Smiling softly at Bucky, the girl darted forward and gave him a quick hug, before she danced back, a blush covering her cheeks. “Sorry.” She whispered, her hands coming up in a quick wave as she turned on her heel. “Coming Leo!” she hollered, suddenly sprinting into the crowd.
For a minute, Bucky simply stayed crouched on the ground. It couldn’t have been. She couldn’t have been…
But, Bakker…
No. There was no way.
Ollie was a boy.
Oliver Bakker was a boy.
A relative perhaps? Ollie had a cousin named Olivia, maybe it was one of her grandkids?
Must have been.
But, Leo?
What were the chances of an Ollie and a Leo in one generation?
Family names?
Bucky was still floundering when Steve hauled him up to his feet. “I really hate ghosts.” He muttered under his breath as he steered Bucky towards the exit.
Even as Bucky responded with a slightly hysterical laugh, he distantly thought that he seemed to be doing that a lot. But god, every time he thought he laid Ollie to rest, the man reappeared back in his life like a bad penny.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After the museum, Peggy must have realized that Steve and Bucky had an inch under their skin that they couldn't seem to scratch, because Peggy had extended their stay in the hotel for another week without a word. Parts of Bucky despaired over the fact that Peggy could read them well enough to realize they needed to stay out in the world, to settle into their skins, before they moved back into the Stark residence. She had left them to their own devices, all but shooing them out the door at some points.
Still, Bucky couldn't help but feel like a naughty schoolboy when he and Steve tip-toed out of the hotel room every morning at dawn, sprinting out of the hotel with a whoop and a holler. Bucky was positive Peggy knew exactly what they were doing, as when they came back, she was always bent over the morning paper, a coffee in hand, but he was rather grateful for her silence and continued 'ignorance.' Still, every morning, without fail, Bucky would wake up to a grin stretched across Steve's face and a shirt sailing through the air towards his head. They weren't doing anything wrong, Bucky kept reminding himself as his feet hit the pavement, his eyes glued onto his husband's back.
They weren't doing anything wrong. They were going for a run. A simple jog around the city. But...
He and Steve never spoke of it, but they both knew Bucky shouldn’t have been able to keep up with Steve. Steve had set records during his training, for Bucky to keep up and sometimes pull ahead? Well, there were somethings you simply didn't question, such as waking up sixty-six years in the future.
The jog had become something of a joke and a challenge rolled into one. Had it just been him and Steve, the jog would have been silent, two soldiers booking it through the city, ignoring their demons snipping at their heels. But there was this one guy…
By the third day, it had become a challenge. Steve would lap the man first, saying ‘on your left,’ just loud enough to make the man lose his rhythm. About two seconds later, Bucky would lap him, jogging backwards saying ‘on the right.’
The resulting screech of furry when Bucky and Steve speed off made the morning that much sweeter.
…***…
At the end of the run, Steve and Bucky exchanged a high-five as the other man lay collapsed on the ground, a mutinous glare settling onto his features. Really, the look wasn't anything Dum Dum hadn't given Bucky more times then he could count, but it was hilarious on a man who didn't know either of them.
As always, it was Bucky who took pity on the man first. Leaning forward, Bucky took in the man's heaving chest and grimaced. “Need a medic?”*
The man flipped him off, his head thumping against the ground with a groan. “I need a new set of lungs.”*
Steve snickered and Bucky rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but you managed to keep up for a while.”
“Not helping.” He groaned, rolling up to his feet, one hand against the tree. “Where did you guys train?”
It was a simple inquiry, but the question still made Bucky freeze, one hand brushing back his hair. Glancing over at Steve from the corner of his eye, he resigned himself to the fact they would forever settle into parade rest after a run, no matter how long they had been away from the war. “Uh, classified.” He eventually offered, a sickly grin settling onto his features.
The man nodded once. “Quantico. Cool.”
It was then that Bucky saw the crest on the corner of the man’s shirt. His gaze flickered up even as he relaxed. The man was a brother in arms. A soldier.
The man tossed him a grin. “Sam Wilson. 58th Para-rescue. Two tours.”* He offered a hand.
Steve reached forward first. “Steve Rogers.” He jerked a thumb over to Bucky. “James Barnes.” His nose scrunched up in that adorable way when Ollie had caught him mid rant about one of his school assignments. “Our parents were geeks.” He offered with a shrug.
Bucky would have smacked him upside the head had Sam not winced along side him. “Ouch, school must have been hell.”
Bucky soothed a hand over his knuckles, vaguely thinking about how Ollie had often stood toe to toe with Sister Joan. Usually that brawl resulted in both Bucky and Ollie getting their knuckles smacked by a ruler for one offence or another. “You’ve got no idea.” He grumbled as he wrung out his hand. For a minute, they stood in silence, and as the park began to fill up with people, Bucky inclined his head to the other veteran. “Nice meeting you Sam. Maybe you’ll beat us tomorrow.” Bucky couldn’t resist tacking on the taunt, not when the other man puffed up from wounded pride and crossed his arms in defense.
Slapping Steve on the shoulder, Bucky was halfway back to the sidewalk when Sam’s voice stopped him in in tracks. “It’s the bed, isn’t it?”* Bucky shuddered to a halt and Steve’s hand entangled with his, both their knuckles turning white under the strain. “It’s too soft. Over there, you get used to using the rocks as pillows. The bed,…”* he trailed off.
Bucky could feel his shoulders beginning to hunch when Steve turned around with that curious spark in his eyes. “The bed feels like a marshmallow. Too soft.”*
Tossing a look over his shoulder, Bucky watched as something in Sam seemed to slip into a hint of professionalism, almost falling into a parade rest. “I know you’re classified, but you two can come down to the VA anytime. You might find what you’re missing.” He offered, the words kind.
Bucky watched as Steve’s head quirked to the side. “The VA?” he questioned, glancing over to Bucky to verify that he didn’t know the answer either.
From the way Sam pulled back as if he had been slapped, Bucky almost wondered if they had made a social blunder again. Stepping closer to Steve, Bucky watched with a wary eye as Sam’s hands tightened into fists and his head ducked down as his whole frame shuddered. “They didn’t tell you?” he hissed, his eyes coming up to pin both Steve and Bucky into place.
Slowly, Bucky stepped in front of Steve and lowered his head slightly, tracking both of Sam’s hands. “Told us what?” he kept his voice soft, unsure of how to react otherwise. There was no where to hide in the park and without his gun, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick off anyone who tried to follow.
“The Veteran’s Association. The VA.” The way Sam said the words carried weight, like the title was supposed to mean something. When neither Steve or Bucky reacted, he gave a soft curse before reaching into his pocket, ignoring the lurch Bucky gave in response. Flicking something open, Sam plucked out a piece of paper and held it out towards Bucky. “Someone failed you two.” He murmured softly, his gaze still gentle as he waited for Bucky to relax enough to reach for the card. “The VA can help. Tomorrow there’s a meet and greet happening. Vets from all over are coming down,” he paused, his smile once again crossing his face, “hell, we even managed to get some world war two Vets to come down and speak for a little while.”
When Bucky and Steve refused to move, Sam sighed and wiggled the card in the air. “I know you’re classified, but you don’t have to say a word. Just show up. 1pm. I’ll keep a couple chairs open.”
Sharing a look with Steve, Bucky finally stepped to the side with a rueful shake of his head.
The war was over.
He had to remember that the war was over.
With a quiet ‘thank you’, Steve took the card and Bucky allowed one last look at Sam. There was ice clinging to the back of his legs and he felt imbalanced without the weight of his pack on his shoulder. The war was over. There was no more gunfire. There were no more screams. But, in the corner of his vision, Ollie’s terrified eyes still haunted him. There were monsters dancing in the back of his mind and a morbid part of him wondered it they were dancing to the tune of Ollie's screams and the beat of his unsteady heart.
If the VA could stop that…
Well…
“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Bucky promised as Steve pocketed the paper.
…***…
Bucky stopped dead in the center of the doorway to the room where the VA meeting was taking place. Peggy had all but shoved them out the door when she realized what Steve had come home with in his pocket, her face pale and her hands trembling. Had Bucky been a more cynical man, he would have wondered if Peggy was the one who had failed them, as Sam had implied. But, as it was, he and Steve had walked the few blocks to the VA in silence. Bucky hadn't wanted to go, but he had promised.
He had promised and now that they were standing in the VA, Bucky almost wanted to turn around and walk right back out. The world was a very cruel place, he was starting to realize, and ignoring the men and women huddled into little groups off to the side, Bucky's gaze was stuck on the little girl that was currently playing with a doll on the floor beside a wheelchair bound older gentleman.
The girl must have sensed his gaze, because the next thing he knew, little Olivia Bakker had shot to her feet and was scampering through the crowd, leaving her doll and the man behind. The girl slid under a table with a giant grin on her face and popped up to her feet in front of Bucky and Steve. “Yasha and Steve!” she cried out with glee as she attacked their legs with a hug. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!”
‘Yasha?’ Bucky mouthed to Steve, who shrugged even as he bent down and convinced the girl to give him a proper hug. Olivia complied immediately and shrieked with laughter when Steve threw her up into the air to be held on his hip. Staring at him with the most comical expression of disbelief, Olivia leaned away from Steve and held her hands out to Bucky.
For a moment, Bucky stared at her. “Aren’t you a little too old for this?” he asked stiffly.
Olivia shrugged but shook her arms at him, as if urging him to comply. “Probably. I’m eight, but I don’t mind being a teddy-bear.” When Bucky only arched an eyebrow, Olivia stuck out her tongue and hooked her arms around Steve’s neck. “Yasha means James.” She whispered low enough for Bucky to pick up but not for anyone else to notice. “I didn’t think you wanted to be found yet.”
For an eight-year-old, she was rather smart, Bucky thought in bemusement, even as he nodded in agreement. Slowly, he looked around the room and followed after Steve. Olivia was chattering something about her school and how someone named Sally-Ann was being annoying and stuffing dirt into her backpack. Olivia had apparently gotten her revenge by sticking a toad into the girl’s desk when everyone was busy, which made the girl scream in terror later.
“Who are you here with?” Bucky eventually broke in, absently nodding to Sam when he spied the man talking to a group of older men.
Olivia wiggled her way out of Steve’s arms and hit the ground bouncing on the tips of her toes. “Oudoom Yohanas.” She answered dutifully, waving her hand wildly towards the wheelchair bound gentleman who was currently attempting to glare a hole into the side of Bucky’s head. “Want to meet him?”
Not really, Bucky thought wildly, the hair on the back of his neck rising the longer the man stared at him. But Steve, thrice damned Steve, was the one who answered, a silly little grin on his face. “Yeah, why not?”
With every step Bucky took, all he could think was that this was a terrible idea. But then, Olivia, in full view of everyone in the room, placed her hands beside her head and snapped off a series of flicks and waves, her head tilting to the side as the gentleman’s frown disappeared and melted into a thoughtful smirk. Staring down at the little girl, Bucky said the only thing he had managed to catch out of the entire gibberish sign. “Why’d you say 'thank you' and 'safe'?”
Olivia’s eyes snapped to his and Bucky could only watch as the girl’s mouth dropped open and her finger came up to point shakily at Bucky. Her eyes flickered between Steve and Bucky, before she spun and flicked off another question to her Oudoom. The man frowned and signed something back slower, each gesture extremely deliberate.
The girl stilled before she spun and glared at Bucky with enough force, he was surprised his heart didn’t stop. “Why didn’t you say you stayed with the Bakkers during the war?” she asked shrilly, her voice stabbing into Bucky’s ears. “I wouldn’t have called you Yasha then, not if you wanted to stay quiet!”
Beside him, Steve flicked a glance between Bucky and Olivia with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, what I’d miss?” he questioned mildly, his arms crossed over his chest.
Olivia stamped her foot on the ground and pouted when Bucky shrugged in honest confusion. “He,” she pointed to Bucky in accusation, “is Yasha Schmidt. My Oudoom Olivier and Yohannes dragged him to one of the Bakker homesteads when he had been poisoned in one of the camps.”
When Bucky’s eyes all but bugged out of his head, Olivia tossed him a haughty look before she danced backwards and closer to Yohannes. “I’ve read the report.” She taunted in a singsong voice.
By this point, they were standing beside Yohannes, and the old man had the appearance of a cat that ate the canary. “The last time I saw you,” he murmured, his eyes glittering from where they had all but sunken into his skull, “you were sicker then a dog and threatening to throw-up in the back of my truck.”
If there was ever a moment where Bucky would curse the past coming to bite his ass, this would be it.
“Thanks for the assist.” He eventually managed to croak, his eyes on where Olivia was showing Steve her plastic doll. The blond thing was dressed in military gear, and Olivia was all but thrusting the head into Steve’s eyeball to show him something.
Yohannes, the old man that should have been a carefree teenager, only shook his head at his grandniece’s antics. “I wasn’t there for you.” He muttered as he leaned on the side of his chair, his eyes soft as he watched Olivia babble. “I was there because we had gotten wind that a special was being harmed. If my cousin hadn’t already been dispatched to deal with the issue, I would have been too late.”

There was roaring in his ears and frost climbing up his spine, but Bucky managed to heave in a deep breath. Looking up to the ceiling, he shifted and debated the wisdom of questioning the old man on issues that should have been laid to rest long ago. “Ollie said he was an orphan. That the Bakkers in New York couldn’t take him in. His brother Leo died on the way over from Canada.”

The old man paused, and slowly, a look of abject horror swept over his features. Sluggishly, Yohannes cast a glance over to Olivia, his hands clenching the sides of the chair. “It couldn’t be…” he muttered softly, his head shaking minutely in denial. Bucky was about to ask what was wrong, when the old man pinned him with a level look. “Before the war broke out, all Bakkers were recalled to the Homesteads in Europe to help set up an Underground of sorts. There were no Bakkers in Canada or New York.”

An uneasy silence washed over the two of them and when Olivia turned around, her head tilted curiously, Yohannes signed a quick ‘safe’ but said nothing else. In the bottom of Bucky’s gut, there was a rolling sort of anger, a frustration making him want to scream that Ollie wasn’t a liar. That Ollie was a Bakker and there must have been a mistake and that Yohannes must have been wrong. But, Bucky also remembered the way Ollie had interacted with the Bakkers back in Europe.

He had been uneasy, cautious, over zealous to help. Ollie had once said he was a bastard child, it could have been that the Bakkers simply didn’t know about him.

It could have been that the Bakkers didn’t know.

Yohannes clenched his jaw, shaking his head at something Bucky hadn’t caught in time. “We didn’t know where your Ollie came from and while you were sick, we all poured over the papers.” The old man glanced up at Bucky with something like pity and kindness mixed into one. “We were going to offer Ollie a place in the home after the war, only…” he trailed off again, his hand gesturing uselessly.

Bucky closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple, Ollie’s screams echoing low in his ears. “Only, Ollie died falling off the train.”

Yohannes nodded slowly, his eyes closing in pain. “Exactly.”

The silence fell between them again and Bucky shook his head as Yohannes offered a hand. He wasn’t going to shake in the remembrance of a boy who everyone else had forgotten, not while the ice was around his shoulders and the screams rang low in his ears. Not while he still had things to atone for.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In someways Bucky didn't think he'd ever manage to work through the horrors the war had left him with. Yohannes was an old man when he should have been a boy, and gods, that truck ride...
A shudder worked its way up Bucky's spine. He could still see the woods that lined the road in perfect detail and the rumble of the engine itched at the base of his ears. The serum had heightened everything and had Ollie not been there to distract him...
Bile burned at the back of his throat.
He didn't want to even think about it.
From the sympathetic look Yohannes was shooting him, Bucky had the uneasy realization that the old man knew more then he was letting on. Part of Bucky wanted to walk away, let secrets lay still and quiet in their coffins, but another part of him wanted to shake the old man. He wanted to shake the man and make him spill everything. Who, what, Ollie was. Why Bucky's name had gotten changed to Yasha. Why Steve wasn't recognized by the Bakkers.
Bucky wanted answers but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what the answers were.
A low rumble swept through the room and Bucky looked up as Steve caught him by the arm. “I think that’s our signal to find a seat.” Steve whispered, his hand on Olivia's head in obvious affection, his fingers carding through the girl's blond hair.
For a moment, Bucky could have sworn Olivia's hair was the colour of coffee grinds and it suddenly hit Bucky that he hadn't seen or thought of Rebecca since the war. His baby sister, his Mother's pride and joy. He wasn't even sure if she was still alive. A tingling numbness curled through his veins and it wasn't until Olivia tugged on her braid that Bucky realized he had been staring.
His sister.
He hadn't seen her in years.
What kind of big brother was he?
Oh god, he and Ollie hadn't been around to check that his father hadn't...
This was too much.
Between Ollie, the Bakkers, and his sister, Bucky wasn't sure if he was going to be able to remain standing. Under his feet, the floor shook. A low buzzing tickled its way through his ears, and had Steve not shot a hand out to steady him, Bucky was sure he would have landed on the ground. God, he was pathetic. Olivia looked nothing like Rebecca and the war was over.
The war was over and this shouldn't be happening.
The hits just kept coming and he was done.
He was stronger then this.
He wasn't some shell shocked soldier.
He wasn't.
He was...
"You alright, Buck?" Steve whispered, his hand entangling with his, his thumb rubbing over his knuckles in a soothing fashion.
What kind of question was that? Bucky thought hysterically, his hand tightening on Steve's. His sister. His baby sister. He had left his baby sister alone. And Ollie...
"One day I'm going to disappear Buck, and I'll finally have found a way home." Ollie whispered, his eyes closed as he lounged on the couch, his feet crossed on Bucky's lap. For a moment, there was silence, and Bucky had to wonder if Ollie regretted coming home with them all those years ago in the alley, but before he could give voice to that question, Ollie quirked one of his hapless little smiles. "But, I ain't go'in to go until you and Steve are good, same with your little Rebecca and Roy's little Samantha. Someone's gotta take care of you idiots."

Ollie had promised to help him take care of Rebecca but Ollie was...

Ollie was...

Dead.

Olivia tugged on his shirt. "Are you alright Yasha?" her voice was soft and it almost seemed as if she had shrunk into herself.

No.

He wasn't alright.

He wasn't...

"I'll be fine little one." He murmured, his gaze flicking towards Steve.

The other man nodded, his shoulders slumping in relief. They both knew that things weren't okay right at this minute, but they were alive, together, and free.

He had to take what he could get.

Around them, people had already begun to find seats and Bucky grimaced as he realized he and Steve were one of the few people left standing.

Bucky shot a look to Yohannes who simply smirked and patted his chair. “It’s the one good thing about this contraption. I can take a seat anywhere.” There was a slight hesitation on the last word, as if something had distracted the old man. Pausing, Yohannes glanced towards the podium at the front of the room with wide eyes, his mouth opening slightly in shock. “Oh dear, no one told you…” he chuckled softly and made a shooing motion at Bucky and Steve, his fingers flicking something to Olivia. “This shall be amusing.”

Bucky hesitated, a frown working its way onto his features. He had learned the hard way that when a Bakker said the word amusing, it usually meant amusing for them, not for the poor sucker stuck with the problem. Yet, Bucky couldn't say anything because Olivia screeched happily and swung up into Steve’s arms, somehow ignoring the flummoxed expression on his face with a wild flailing of her limbs. “We gotta get seated! They’re going to start talking!”

Lovely.

Over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky watched as a couple of the vets who were already seated laughed at Olivia’s obvious delight. Holding back another grimace, Bucky shook his head at the giggles the little girl was managing over Steve's shoulder. At least she drew the attention to her, rather then to Bucky and Steve. Now curious, Bucky let himself be tugged towards where Sam was waving them down. When they had settled into the seats, Olivia happy from where she was curled up on Steve’s lap, Sam leaned over to Bucky. “Is she yours?”

Bucky choked on air and swung around to give Sam a startled glance. Sam paused mid breath and turned his gaze onto Olivia and Steve, the girl having climbed half onto Steve’s shoulders to sign something to her Oudoom.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Sam answered brightly for himself, a smirk crossing his face as Bucky nodded in quick agreement. Then Sam looked up and he grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “It never gets old watching these guys.” He whispered, as five gentlemen sauntered up to the podium.

Beside him, Steve cursed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He hissed, glancing at Bucky in desperation.

Confused, Bucky could only stare in horror as Olivia began to giggle from Steve’s shoulders again. “It’s the Howling Commandos!” she shrieked gleefully, her doll waving through the air.

Bucky took it back, he didn’t want to come to the VA. At the front of the room, Dum Dum Dugan tipped his bowler hat towards Olivia and Bucky waited for the bomb to drop. Sinking down in his seat, Bucky watched in near slow motion as Dugan flicked his gaze to Steve. The coward was holding Olivia in front of him, and in a sick and twisted way, it was amusing to watch Dugan drop his bowler hat as he realized who was holding up the little girl.

Then Dugan saw Bucky.

Even from the back of the room, Bucky could see Dugan mouth ‘Sarge?’ before his eyes widened and Dugan shifted to stare at the ground. Behind him, the other men all turned to stare at the bowler hat and then flicked their gazes up to the crowd. Bucky could pinpoint the exact moment they all registered Steve and Bucky in the audience.

Frantically, Bucky shoved a finger in front of his mouth and dragged a hand across his throat in a threatening manner.

Gabe Jones blinked hard but grabbed the bowler hat off the ground and shoved it onto Dugan’s head. “Getting old sucks, don’t it.” He groused to the crowd, drawing attention back to the men, rather then to their apparent shock. The last thing Bucky registered aside from his men standing at the front of the room for the next hour, was the soft chuckles that raced across the audience.

…***…

About midway through Jim’s speech, Bucky leaned over to Steve. Olivia had crawled over to Sam and Bucky was sure Olivia wasn’t going to eavesdrop. “Steve, did you contact them to tell them we were alive?” Steve shook his head in response, a grimace dropping over his features. Bucky settled back into his seat with a squeak he would deny ever happened.

They were going to die.

He just knew it.

…***…

The VA didn’t clear out quickly after the Howling Commandos were done their speech, and it was only through serving through hell with the men that Bucky was able to pick out the telltale signs that they weren’t comfortable with something. Dum Dum’s gaze kept sliding to where Steve and Bucky had ended up when the audience stood up for the meet and greet. Olivia seemed oblivious to the tension crackling through the air, and Sam, damn the man, had picked up on something and slid a little closer to Olivia, both hands hovering near her back.

In some ways, Bucky could appreciate the fact Sam was keeping Olivia near an exit and out of the way should either he or Steve suddenly come down with Shellshock. In other ways, it was taking everything Bucky had not to sweep the girl up into his arms and run. The girl wasn’t Ollie but damnit all to hell, he could hear Ollie hissing in his ear to keep the little ones safe. It wasn’t too long ago that he had been clearing rubble and entertaining children while Ollie had kept guard in her nest.

Slowly, far too slowly, the room emptied. Steve and Bucky on one end, the men on the other. Knowing that the time to deny their identities had passed, Bucky shoved his shaking hands in to his pockets, and attempted a smirk. “Long time no see.” His voice cracked on the last word and he saw Dum Dum’s mask crack slightly.

“Sarge?” Gabe offered as he shuffled forward and squinted at Bucky. “Sarge, is that you?”

At the far right of the group, Jim chuckled and raised his gaze to the ceiling with a rueful look. “I should have known they’d take a shortcut.”

Jacques sank down into a chair. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He cursed under his breath.

Steve’s hand slipped into his and Bucky winced at the varied reactions. “Surprise?” he offered, immediately wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

The men exchanged a look, their hands coming up in a series of slight aborted gestures Bucky had once been so familiar with, before Dum Dum sighed and shrugged. “Honestly? Not really.” Some of his surprise must have appeared on his face, because Dum Dum threw his head back and laughed. “Sarge, we,” he jerked a thumb towards the men, “worked for the SSR and SHIELD. There’s not a hell of a lot that can surprise us anymore.”

“Your dead Sargent and Captain coming back without having aged a day doesn’t make you a little concerned?” Steve mumbled, one hand rubbing at his temple as he shook his head. “We all saw some weird shit, but this doesn’t make you question things?”

Dum Dum crossed his arms and fought to keep a smirk off his face. “Cap, back in the day, we were dealing with a man with a literal red skull, a cosmic cube that made things blow up, and our support unit was a man who couldn’t die, a ghost, and a civilian contract. I stopped questioning things after the second time Bakker crawled back into camp after being declared dead.”

Well, he had a point, Bucky thought as he rubbed at his eyes, but that wasn’t making this any easier to deal with. In the silence that fell after that statement, Olivia bounced out of Sam’s shocked grip and dashed towards Dum Dum, swinging herself around his hips in a hug and staring up at him with an adoring expression. “You’re Dum Dum Dugan!” She shrieked, her doll smacking into his waist as she backed up and spun around to look at the other men, pointing at each and naming them with the same level of enthusiasm, finally finishing with, “My name is Olivia Bakker.”

To Bucky’s surprise, Dum Dum’s face went pale and the man shakily put his hand in hers. “Well, hello munchkin.” He whispered as he knelt to look at her. “How did you shrink?”

The girl bounced on her toes and tilted her head to stare at the veteran, her doll held in a tight grip. “Mom said I grew from last year, so I don’t think I shrunk, sir.” She offered tentatively, shifting slightly to look back to Bucky, as if seeking approval.

Over her head, Bucky made a quick shrug towards the men. “Yeah, she looks a bit like Ollie’s cousin.” He admitted as Olivia took a small step back before giving a shaky smile and grabbing at Sam’s hand. “She found us a few days ago at the museum.”

Dugan was still on the ground, his gaze locked on Olivia. “Ollie’s cousin.” He said faintly, his head swiveling around to look at Bucky in horror. Before Bucky could question the look, Dugan had hauled himself to his feet and was staring off into the distance with wide eyes and pale cheeks. “Oh god, she never told you.”

Before Bucky could react to that odd statement, Sam made his presence known. “You’re…” he managed to choke out in a strangled squeak. “You’re Captain America.” He was staring at Steve as if he was a revelation.

For a few awkward moments, no one said a word. To Bucky’s trained eye, Steve looked distinctly uncomfortable. His shoulders were hunched inwards, and it looked like Steve was about to try and hide behind Bucky. Sighing and rubbing at his temple again, Bucky stepped forward and held out a hand to the startled gentleman. “Sargent James Barnes.” He offered, smirking as Sam took his hand reflexively. “I told you it was classified.” ,p/>
“No shit.” Sam muttered, staring at his hand before shooting his gaze up to study Bucky. “Classified is easier to explain then two dead men.” His voice was getting a little shrill and Bucky tried to subtly shoot a look towards Steve for help. “Oh my god, I asked Captain America if he had a kid.” The words were a groan, and Sam was beginning to look a little gobsmacked.

Finally, Steve offered his hand with a small grimace. “Steve. It’s just Steve.”

Sam gave a firm odd, his face molding into an expression of sympathy. “Steve, James.” There was a slight pause and Sam finally seemed to realize how tense the Howling Commandos had become. Offering everyone an apologetic nod, Sam focused back in on Bucky and Steve. “The world’s got to be a lot different then you remember.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look, amusement bubbled in Bucky’s veins and he shook his head slowly. “Oh, you’ve got no idea.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was something wrong with the Howling Commandos, Bucky thought as he gripped Dum Dum's forearm and brought the man into a hug. It wasn't anything big. The gaping holes of the 'support units' had healed long along to Bucky's eyes, but there was still something wrong. Maybe it was the way they all interacted with nothing more then a tilted head and a clenched jaw. Maybe it was the subtle inside jokes that neither he or Steve understood. Maybe it was the fact they were old, and he wasn't.
Maybe it was all of that, but Bucky didn't want to go down the rabbit hole. His men were alive, his husband was breathing easy, and Bucky didn't have to flinch at shadows anymore. He wasn't mad, Bucky realized as he patted Dum Dum's back with a choked huff. He wasn't even frustrated. But, it was his team. His soldiers. His responsibility, and something twisted in his gut when the other men took their cues from Dum Dum instead of him. Sixtey-six years changed a person, Bucky reminded himself as he stepped back from Dum Dum.
Sixty-six years and god knew how many battles.
Was it any wonder his men had changed?
Hell, did he even have any right to call them his men anymore?
...***...
Bucky would have kept obsessing over the subtle and not so subtle changes in his men if it wasn't for the sudden shout at the entrance hall of the VA. The place was rather open, and security was lax, but anyone who walked in off the street was still questioned, Bucky knew that much. So, the sudden shout from the entrance made both him and Steve swing around in tandem, both of their hands falling to their hips.
Some distant part of Bucky noted with some pride that his men, they would always be his men, slid into a loose formation, Sam, Olivia, and Yohannes bracketed in on all sides.
The shout died in the hall and all was silent, until...
"Nicholas, don’t you dare!” Peggy’s voice echoed between the men, and Bucky watched as the Howling Commandos snarled at the distressed undertone to Peggy's voice. Margret 'Peggy' Carter didn't do distressed. She did annoyed, frustrated, enraged, and polite rather well. But, distressed?
One might as well have asked for the Queen of England to make them a spot of tea and cake.
It had been just over sixty-six years since he had gotten into a brawl, Bucky thought with a touch of hysteria as he brought his hands up, his eyes on the door. The last time he had been caught without a weapon and the team had been beside him ready to fight was in that damn bar they had crashed after one of their more difficult missions. He couldn't remember what they had been doing, but he did remember that Steve had started that one. Oddly enough, it was over Ollie's honour, as someone had apparently called Ollie a girl. Steve hadn't taken well to the insult, and Bucky had been the one to haul the blond off the idiot.
Ollie hadn't said a damned word, but Peggy had laughed until she cried when she heard why Bucky had Steve in a headlock when they had puttered back into camp.
Pulling himself out of memories, Bucky warily watched as Peggy rounded the corner chasing a man in a long black trench coat, an eyepatch over one eye. Around him, the Howling Commandos relaxed as one unit, the collective sigh of relief hissing out into the air with a soft chuckle. But, BUcky didn't dare begin to relax, not when he had caught caught the flash of panic on Peggy’s face.
It might be time to ask the queen for tea, Bucky mused as he slid over to Steve, one hand fisting into the man’s jacket in a left-over habit from when they had been kids. It was easier to keep a hand on Steve and yank him out of the way then it was to shout and hope to god his hearing was okay. It was also a hell of a lot easier to yank the man out of the line of fire and bolt, but that was an entirely different conversation.
“Peggy, are you okay?” Steve questioned, his hands lax at his sides as he eyed Nicholas.
Yes, it was definitely time to start asking for that tea.
The man skidded to a stop in the middle of the room and returned Steve’s unimpressed look with one of his own. For that alone, Bucky had to give the man some form of grudging respect, Steve had perfected his glares by the time he was ten. At twenty-one, they were deadly.
Sarah would have been proud.
“Director Carter, I see you’ve been keeping secrets.” Nicholas murmured, his head tipping towards the Howling Commandos absently.
Bucky twitched as he was forced to give the man another point of respect. There was some form of mutual respect between Nicholas and Bucky's men. It took a lot to gain respect from all of the boys and Bucky would like to think he could still read them even after all this time.
Peggy shrugged as she shuffled her way towards Bucky, her arm looping through his as she turned on her heel and leveled Nicholas with a glare. “You had no need to know.” Peggy's voice still trembled and on his arm Peggy's nails dug crescent cuts into his skin.
“You’ve heard of the Avengers Initiative.” The man mentioned calmly, his pensive expression the complete opposite of Peggy’s sudden panic and anger.
“Yes, and these boys haven’t even been away from the war for six months.” She snapped, her hand slashing through the air angrily. “You don’t send someone into the field in less then a year after they’ve been in deep-cover for years on end. This isn’t too different from that.” She glared at the man, her spine made from steel. “You’ve already petitioned my godson, you have no need to petition my best friends.”
Against his better judgement, Bucky exchanged a look with Steve, one eyebrow cocked. Godson? That was news. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, Ollie's cousin was just behind him after all and it wasn't like he hadn't been gone long enough for there to be youngsters running around causing chaos. But still, someone had kids?
Bucky was an uncle?!
Steve flicked him in the ear. "Stark." he whispered softly, his gaze still fixed on Peggy.
Ah yes, Bucky thought quietly. Howard.
The man raised an eyebrow and shot Bucky a cool glance. “And what if I said the world needed them?”
Bucky blinked back in bemusement as he checked back into the conversation. If the fate of the world was resting on two impulsive, bored out of their minds, battle-shocked soldiers, then Nicholas needed to get better spies.
Beside him, Steve choked, his eyes flicking wildly between Bucky and Nicholas. If the situation hadn't been so bizarre, Bucky would have pressed a kiss onto Steve's mouth, just to distract his husband. Whether he knew it or not, Nicholas had just challenged the Rogers sensibilities and woe be upon anyone's head who offered Steve a challenge. Apparently, the world hadn’t changed as much as he had thought, and in some ways, the thought settled him. Shifting, Bucky turned to give Steve a pointed look. Ollie would never forgive them if they left somebody in danger but it didn't mean Bucky had to enjoy it. Twisting, Bucky turned to look back at Nicholas and forced himself not to sigh. “Alright sir, what’s the mission?”
Behind him, he could hear one of the Howling Commandos choke on a snicker and had Bucky not been slowly realizing he had just made a mistake of epic proportions, he would have turned and smacked Jacques around the head. In front of them all, Nicholas smirked and tilted his head. “Officially, I am Director Fury of SHIELD.”
For a moment, Bucky stared, his gaze flicking between the man clad in black, and the brightly dressed Peggy Carter.<
This was little Nicky?
Director Fury cleared his throat. “What do you know about the Tesseract? Stark says you called it the cosmic cube?”
Something in Steve’s expression darkened, and Bucky knew he was remembering the way good men would suddenly turn into ash. So, it wasn't all that surprising when Steve ducked his head and gripped the corner of Bucky's shirt with a low snarl. “Hydra’s secret weapon.”
Director Fury inclined his head, ignoring Peggy’s shocked intake of breath. “Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs.”*
This time it was Bucky who tilted his head and crossed his arms. He didn’t care why Howard would want the damn thing, Bucky had seen good men die under the muzzle of blue tinted guns and it wasn’t too long ago that Schmidt had been burned away by the flames of a cosmic energy that didn’t want to be controlled. That thing brought chaos wherever it went, and if Howard wasn't working on it anymore, then the man had finally smartened up and listened to Peggy.
That being said, power, even if it was uncontrollable, was extremely seductive. Whoever Nicholas or Howard answered to wouldn't have let it go easily. So, it was with a slightly ironic twist on his lips that Bucky glared at Nicholas. "Who took it from you?”* He eventually sighed when he realized no one else was going to ask the question.
For a moment, Director Fury looked somewhat abashed. “He's called Loki. He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”* The smirk that shuddered across Fury’s face told Bucky that it was a rare moment that the man would ever joke around with subordinates, let alone attempt to tease two super soldiers.
Thinking of Olivia and the whole problem with the Bakkers, Bucky snorted and shook his head. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise us.”*
However, the smirk that crossed Steve’s face told Bucky this was the wrong to say, especially since Steve held out his hand for the Director to shake. “Ten dollars says nothing about this will shock us.”
Sighing, Peggy tilted her head back for a moment, before she gestured down the hall to the entrance of the VA. “I figured you two would agree.” She tossed Steve a melancholy smile even as she shared a glance with the Howling Commandos behind them. “There’s a duffel bag in the hall, it has your things.”
Slowly, Bucky tossed her a grin even as he shrugged at the Howling Commandos, “The journey never ends, does it?”
…***…
As they walked to the front of the VA, Bucky picked up the ruffle bag and gave a little gasp of surprise. Peggy must have packed everything they owned in the bag for it to be this heavy. Part of him had to wonder where the hell she thought they were going if they were going to need everything from their room.
As he paused to shift the bag over his shoulder, Sam caught him by the elbow. The man held his gaze with a slightly warry look and he refused to look at Fury. “I’ve heard things about these guys.” He whispered, his head jerking back to the VA with a pointed expression. “Not all of it good. Keep your ears open and question everything. They aren’t the army, they’re spies, and it looks like Mrs. Carter hasn’t been in charge for a while.”
Bucky eased out of his hold and clasped the man’s hand once. “I’ll keep that mind.” He murmured as he waved a hand towards the Howling Commandos and turned to follow the sound of his husband’s voice.
On a side note, the bag really was heavy.
…***…
In the parking lot of the VA, Fury gestured towards an inconspicuous jeep with a slightly demented grin. “Ignore my driver.” He warned as he slid into the passenger seat.
Exchanging a look with Steve, Bucky tossed the duffel bag into the back before he climbed into the backseat. There was an odd thud from the bag, but when nothing happened, Bucky figured there would be time later to see what Peggy had packed for them. In the rear-view mirror, the driver gave him a strange look.
And then Steve slid in beside Bucky.
In retrospect, it was probably a good thing they weren’t on the road, Bucky thought as he worked to smother his laughter. He had seen men snap to attention when Steve walked by during the war, but it never got old when people became wordless nitwits over Steve appearing in their field of vision. Especially since Steve always seemed quietly baffled about what they were becoming excited about.
His propaganda videos or his sheer insanity on the battlefield.
The man in the front seat froze and, slowly, very slowly, turned around to stare first at Bucky, and then look at Steve. Bucky swore he could see the man swallow before he turned and pinned Director Fury with a look. “That is Captain America.” He accused, his hand twitching towards his jacket pocket.
Director Fury must have had a mischievous streak because Bucky watched in awe as the Fury simply turned to look in the backseat, as if he was checking they had made it to the car, and then looked back at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Your point, Coulson?”
Coulson nodded once and checked Steve out one last time. “Of course, Director.” There was a moment of silence, and then Coulson gently smacked his head against the back of the seat and his hands flexed on the steering wheel and he heaved in a breath. “I need to know something.” He near shouted as he somehow twisted in place to look at them straight on, his eyes wild. “The Geist. One or two people?”
The tone of the man’s voice sent Bucky straight back into basic and he answered without a second thought. “One.”
Coulson nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” Then he turned around and turned the key in the ignition.
Bucky wasn’t the only one looking at the man in confusion as Coulson steered the car out into traffic with a small smile. But it wasn’t until the silence had become stifling that Bucky realized someone had asked about Ollie. His hand shot out to grab Steve’s knee as he stared at the back of Coulson’s head. Someone knew Ollie. Someone knew Ollie existed. Someone other then Peggy and Bethany believed in Ollie. Something that had been cracked in Bucky’s stomach slowly patched over, allowing him to breath easy for the first time since he had learned Ollie hadn’t had a grave.
In the back, the duffle bag shifted and Bucky eyed it warily. What the hell had Peggy packed?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The blue ceiling was new, Ollie thought as she lounged against the wall. Her head rested on the window sill and she let her eyes glaze over as the white curtains fluttered past her shoulders in the non-existent breeze. It was the same routine day after day. Wake up, lean against the wall, stare off into the distance, and try not to scream. At some point, she'd get up and drag a knife against the wall, adding to the tally of days that she had been here.
Day in and day out, there was never any change that Ollie could see. Nothing ever changed.
But the ceiling was new.
Ollie had never been an overly studious child, but even she knew that when her Opa sat down to teach the Bakker children a lesson, you paid attention. And wasn’t she glad that that had been beat into her head since the moment she knew her own name. The Bakkers were supposed to be able to house any special that came along, and the gods knew telepaths were far more common then one might think. Therefore, every Bakker child was trained to hide secrets and shield their own mind.

In the war, that meant torture was simply a means to retreat into her shields.

After the war, it meant hiding her very being.

But Ollie was eight the last time she had been trained. Her shields weren’t perfect, and the longer she sat behind them, the more she saw details become blurred.

Her name was Ollie Yacob Bakker and her number was 214781.

Her name was the Geist.

Once there had been door after door lining the walls of the apartment and for a while, she was able to escape. Once she had been able to visit and talk to other people. Once, there were memories, scenes, ideas that she could skip through.

But now…

Ollie let her head roll to the side.

Now there were names.

Now she sat in an apartment she vaguely thought was familiar and she carved names into walls until she forgot why they were important.

Natasha Romanov

Steven Grant Rogers.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Margret Carter.

Howard Stark.

Tony Stark.

Leonard Wayne Bakker.

Andy Bakker.

Jacob Maas Bakker.

Erik Lehnsherr.

And finally…

214781 let her fingers curl over the name that had been carved into the floor board under the mattress. The name she only let herself see when the silence became too much.

Olivia Devera Maria Bakker.

214791 sometimes wondered if Olivia was a relative.

214781 didn’t know why she didn’t sleep in the bed behind the door that had Rogers and Barnes, labeled on it in flaking paint. But sometimes she stood in the doorway and thought that she could see a phantom image of two young boys play fighting on the worn mattress even as an older woman sat at the vanity and hummed while brushing out her hair.

Aside from the bedroom, there were only four other rooms in the apartment.

There was a bathroom with a cracked mirror and taps that never worked.

A door that led to a dark maw that simply held row after row of child sized beds with handcuffs on the bedposts. Spiders were carved into the door frame and 214781 could only remember going in there once. It was dark and it was cold, and 214781 could still hear herself scream.

The third room she new. She remembered. Clearly. The third room was her reality, or maybe mimicry. Because she didn’t think Hydra would ever allow her to walk into that room with a baseball bat and the goal to bash the chair into bits that could never be used on the spiders one door over.

214781 remembered Hydra.

She didn’t think there was a time Hydra wasn’t in her memory.

But there were spiders, and there was the chair, and 214781 thought the scream that echoed in her head was rather fitting when she felt the itch under her skin, and she bashed that chair into bits and pieces.

She hated it.

She absolutely hated it.

Things were fuzzy and her name was 214781 and that chair meant pain and death.

And 214781 knew that when she was forced into that chair, and her spine arched, and her throat bled as she screamed, that the names on the wall became blurred. She knew, she absolutely knew, that list of names was longer at one point. 214781 didn’t think she could survive another name disappearing.

...but that was assuming she noticed it happening at all.

Because 214781 knew there were only two things that were real, the apartment in her head, and the pain that happened when the fourth door opened, and the ice crawled up the walls. Ice meant pain. It meant a struggle to open her eyes as voices shouted commands at her, and two men, a blond and a brunette, attempted to get her to respond.

And then there were words and 214781 simply closed her eyes and curled back up under her window and watched the white curtains fluttered over her head. Because, as much as she hated the ice and feared the blond and the brunette, for those two moments she was conscious, there were other voices.

There were other people and…

And…

And for a split second, she could remember.

Sometimes she stayed out in the world, in the reality she wished would go away. Sometimes she watched as a body that couldn’t have been her own put together guns and ran fingers down knives. She would scream as the body would march down concrete halls and her ears buzzed with static. She would watch as an arm of metal slammed into other bodies and she whispered prayers to gods she no longer believed in, as blood splashed onto pale, pale skin.

And on those days, she would sit behind those eyes that couldn’t be hers and she would watch as the other arm came up and the numbers 214781 would burn their way into her mind, and she would scream.

And she would scream.

And then she would wake up, stuck back under the curtains and watching the rain drop down past the window.

But 214781 was positive the glowing blue ceiling was new.

And then was a knock at the front door that lead no where.

…***…

Placing her hand on the door handle, 214781 thought that whatever was on the other side of the door would at least prove to be an interesting change of pace.

And so, it was with one hand on the door handle and her other hand wrapped around a baseball bat, that 214781 pulled the door open with a quiet creak.

“Hello?”

…***…

There, on the other side of the door, stood a man, 214781 was certain she had never seen before. Raking her eyes up and down the figure, she raised an eyebrow. The man had longer hair then her, which wasn’t difficult, what looked to be a comfortable green shirt, black pants, unpractical dress shoes, and a sleeveless cardigan that cut off at his knees. He also rather looked like he had been through hell. There were bags under his eyes, sweat on his brow, and 214781 was certain that if she grabbed at his hands, she’d be able to feel the bones in his wrists and feel the ribs under his shirt.

He was also frozen mid nock and instead of having his green eyes fixed on her face, she was rather disappointed to realize his gaze was pinned on her chest.

“You are naked.” He sputtered, his eyes widening as he snapped his head back to look at the glowing ceiling.

214781 looked down at herself in confusion. She had her pants on, her chest wrapped, and her suspenders over her shoulders. Everything important was covered. “Do you need something?” She asked politely, there was no need to piss off the first person she had seen in, well, only the gods knew how long.

“You are also not Jane Foster.” He sighed, his head coming down to look at her on confusion, his gaze fixed steadily on her face.

For a moment, 214781 simply stared back, and then the man dropped to the ground.

Well, that was inconvenient.

…***…

It wasn’t overly difficult to catch the falling man, and it was with stiff movements that 214781 hiked the man up onto her shoulder and marched back to her mattress. Groaning, she shuffled around until she figured out how to gently place the man on the threadbare blankets.

He looked tired, she thought as she brushed his hair back from his face. He looked tired and resigned.

214781 didn’t like that. This was her apartment, and this was her head and she certainly didn’t like the idea of someone else being in pain. This was her apartment and he was lying under her curtains, and no one could be sad while they watched the curtains flutter overhead.

This was her head, and no one could be sad.

Slowly, 214781 curled her knees up under her chin and she braced herself against the window sill. The man’s fingers twitched and without a second thought, 214781 caught his fingers in her own. His skin was pale and cold, blue tinges flickered over his skin, and 214781 thought the flashes of colour were rather beautiful.

With her other hand, she reached out and smoothed the lines from his forehead, letting her breath slow to match his. There was no red pooling across his clothing, and the longer she sat there holding the man’s hand, the more she wondered who he was.

This was her head and 214781 did not know him.

He was not one of her memories and that realization alone made him intriguing.

Canting her head back, 214781 stared up at the soft blue ceiling. “Was this your doing?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was a name missing, 214781 thought as she traced her fingers over the wall. Her fingers slipped into the cracks and it was with a shaky breath that she let her head fall against the wood. She had long ago torn away the plaster, baring the planks in the wall to the still air of the apartment. Everyday she carved the names in deeper, hoping against hope that the names would survive the ice that slipped in through the chair. It didn't work.
She didn’t know how she knew there was a name missing, but she knew.
She just knew.
If it weren't for the irrational fear that striking the wall with her hands would destroy another name, 214781 would have let loose the tension building under her ribs onto the few remaining pieces of plaster.
Maybe it was time to take the baseball bat to the chair again.
Behind her, there was a low groan and it was only through sheer willpower, that 214781 didn't jump a foot in the air. Her head thunked against the wall again and 214781 allowed herself a small sigh. There was someone else here. There was someone else in the apartment and 214781 wasn't sure if she knew how to deal with that. It had been so long since there had been someone else for her to talk to, let alone interact with, that the mere thought of looking at the man on her bed made her hands shake.
“What are you doing?”
The voice was low, young. 214781 wouldn't have placed the man at the age the voice suggested, but what did she know? She was stuck in her own head of crying out loud.
“Remembering.” 214781 answered flippantly, her fingers digging deeper into the wood of the wall. Absently she tore off another splinter as she fought to keep the names on the wall just a little bit longer. She knew the effort was futile, but catching her fingers on splinters sounded like a better idea then facing the man.
At least this way she could hide the shaking in her hands.
“Where am I?”
214781 shifted slightly at the question. “Well, you’re not dead.”
“I figured that out for myself, you fool.” The man snapped as he shifted up to his feet, his eyes still averted from 214781’s chest, 214781 noted with a smile.
She canted her head to the side, her fingers twitching as she watched the man stagger. It was curious the way the man refused to look at her, as if she was something shameful. “Why won’t you look at me?”
The man’s cheeks turned a soft pink and he chanced to look up for a moment. “You are not dressed.” He pointed out sharply, even as he fell backwards onto her bed, his eyes wide.
214781 crossed her arms. “Everything is covered.” She argued, suddenly wondering what was wrong. She had her bandages on, her boots were done up, and her pants were buttoned all the way to the top. Short of throwing on a coat and a hat, she wasn’t sure what was missing.
The man choked midway through his attempt to subtly glance around her apartment. “I am,” he started regally, somehow making himself look like a prince of old even while half supporting himself on his elbows. “Loki, Prince of Asgard and I order you to put on a shirt.” Then he proceeded to look at her as if she was supposed to be impressed.
Shifting her weight onto one leg, 214781 leaned against the wall and lounged there with a slight shake of her head. She didn’t know of any kingdom named Asgard, but it had been a while since she had looked at a world map. “Well, I’m 214781 of this here apartment, and considering we’re in my head, listen to me when I say, no.”
Loki’s face darkened and he surged to his feet.
Or rather, he tried. 214781 didn’t bother to smoother the chuckle when Loki slipped on the sleeveless cardigan and landed on his back on her mattress with a soft thud.
“Sweetheart,” she purred, wishing she had a camera, “if you wanted to get into my bed, you could have just said so.”
Loki choked. “You are, by far, the strangest Midgardian I have ever met.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” For a moment, the apartment was silent. If Loki was supposed to be her head offering her a distraction, she certainly wanted to speak to whoever was in charge, because this was simply ridiculous. On top of all of this, she wasn’t in the mood to ask what a Midgardian was, or what that made him for that matter.
Loki’s eyes narrowed and a crafty little smile curled the corner of his lips and 214781 had to fight the urge to take a step back. She knew that smile. That tiny little sneer that made men act like everyone else was inferior. 214781 knew how that smile could preceded painful tasks and her guard went up immediately. This wasn't going to end well.
“What kind of Midgardian keeps numbers as a name?” Loki sneered, his gaze flicking up and down her body with a snicker.
Lifting up her chin in challenge, 214781 opened her mouth to snap something back, only to close it with a quiet click, her fingers jumping up to run over her wall of names. Dammit, he was right. There was a name missing from the wall. There was name missing and she knew there was something important she was forgetting, but she hadn't thought it was her own name.
She hadn't thought she had lost herself.
The distant thought that she hadn’t liked it when the spiders had numbers, curled through her thoughts. The spiders didn't deserve numbers. No one deserved numbers. So why was that all she could remember.
Spinning on her heel, 214781 desperately traced the names, her fingers dancing over the splinters and cracks. Why did she have numbers?
She wasn’t a jumble of numbers.
She wasn’t 214781…
She was…
She was…
Oh gods.
Her hand struck the wall as she gave a quiet cry. She wasn’t 214781. She couldn’t be. She had a name. She had a name. This was her head. This was her apartment. This was hers.
She was more than numbers.
She was more than…
Ignoring the figure on her bed, 214781 sunk down onto the floor, dragging her knees up under her chin, she curled up onto her side, her back against the wall. Murmurs and static warred for dominance in her ears. In her chest, her breath hitched and thoughtlessly, she drew her arms towards her, her hand going to cover the numbers.
She was 214781.
She was 214781.
But she didn’t know how long she had been 214781 and the thought made something in her chest burn.
“My lady,” the words soothed the static slightly, “can I touch your arm?”
214781 could only whimper as she curled tighter into her ball, but one hand shot out and she latched onto Loki’s wrist in what must have been a painful grip. The man must had taken this as permission, because the next this she knew, 214781 was slumped onto Loki’s shoulder, but before she could orient herself from the sudden change, Loki had settled onto her mattress, unconsciously mimicking her own usual slouch under the curtains. The hilarity of the situation almost made 214781 break down in tears. Of course, Loki would find the one comfortable spot on her bed, not that she was arguing. No, she was instead she was pressing her nose into his neck, breathing in the sent of frost and sweat.
“How long did your monsters hurt you?” he whispered into her ear.
214781 allowed herself a small chuckle, flinching at the harsh sound that rasped out of her throat. “What year is it?”
The hand on her back clenched and she felt Loki tilt his head forward to lean against hers. “My brother, Thor, says it is the 2007th year of your lord.”
The words were breathed into her ear and for a heartbeat, the blood in 214781’s veins froze. 2007. That year was important. She was waiting for something. Something was supposed to happen. There was a spider and there was a plane and there was…
88°30'06.5"N, 62°20'53.2"W.
Ice and planes.
Dead men and wars.
As soon as the numbers crossed behind her eyes, 214781 dismissed them.
There was a train, and there was five seconds, and there was pain. But behind it all, there was a number. It was 1941.
Behind the static in her ears, 214781 could hear a whisper curl into the shaking of her hands. “Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes were born in 1920, the official reports say they died in 1941.” The sound of the shaky voice took her breath away, and it was almost a comfort to trace the numbers in her mind. Sixty-six years. 214781 had been gone for sixty-six years.

A teardrop hit the cardigan under her forehead and 214781 swallowed down her sob as she curled her hands into Loki’s shirt. “Sixty-six years and counting.” She whispered, half hoping that he would deny the truth.

Loki pulled her closer. “Mine have had me for a year.” His breath rustled through her hair and she blindly reached out to clasp his hand in hers. “My brother thinks me dead.”

…***…

“The Chitauri are going to use me to invade your planet.”

The words hovered in the air, and for a moment, 214781 wondered if the war was ever going to end. “Why are you here, Loki?” She shifted so she could look up at him through her hair.

With his gaze fixed onto the ceiling, Loki squeezed her hand once. “The Chitauri are not nice people.” He paused, his eyes glazing over for a moment before his steadfast smirk appeared back on his lips. “So, I decided to play a game. They threatened me with a primal force of the universe, and I asked it, if it was so powerful, why it didn’t bring me somewhere else.” He chuckled, shaking his head ruefully at her glowing blue ceiling. “I don’t think I ever expected it to bring me to the mind of the strangest Midgardian I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

214781 elected to ignore the backhanded compliment, for all that it made a blush heat up her cheeks. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

The prince paused, his mouth half open as he stared at her with slowly narrowing eyes. 214781 felt her own smirk begin to grow. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think that far ahead.” She teased softly, laughter bubbling in her throat for the first time in ages.

“There were a lot of knives.” He defended grumpily as 214781 allowed herself to openly laugh, rolling onto her back as a smile quirked its way onto the prince’s face.

…***…

Breaking the easy silence, 214781 slipped her hand into Loki’s. “It’s a rather boring afternoon.” She remarked, smirking at the warry look edging its way onto his face. “How would you like to kelp me destroy an army?”

“I wonder if this is how my brother feels.” Loki drawled, shaking his head even as he gestured for her to continue.

214781 popped up to her feet, her hands fluttering. “So," There was a nock at the door that lead nowhere and 214781 spun on her heel, cross. “What is it now?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

214781 only managed to make it halfway across the kitchen by the time the front door flew open hard enough to slam into the back wall. Involuntarily, 214781 winced. That was going to leave a dent. Realistically she knew that the damage she had done to the walls was far worse, but there was a creeping sensation crawling up her spine that damage to the walls was not a good thing when it wasn't created by her own hand.
"Natasha, I'm home!" The words were lilted up into a terrible parody of a song and 214781 threw her hands over her ears even as she glared at the figure in the doorway, the sound wrenching her back into the present. There was no reason anyone should be able to reach that pitch without having been stabbed first. From the corner of her eye, 214781 could see Loki fiddling with a knife, the lines around his eyes tight. Evidently, the injured prince agreed.
Glaring, 214781 motioned to Loki for the knife to be put down, even as she spun back to the door, absently flicking her fingers to spell out shut up. Looking the man up and down, 214781 paused as she finally got a good look at the man. Whoever allowed the poor boy to walk out of the house dressed in torn jeans and about ten different shades of purple, ought to be shot.

To her eternal surprise, the man blinked, fiddled with his earlobe for a moment and then signed back you’re not NAT.

214781 blinked, that, that was not what she had been expecting. Biting her lip, 214781 stepped closer to the man, her gaze flicking between him and her wall of names. He didn't look familiar but 214781 knew better then to think she could rely on her own memories for reference. The man in front of her leaned back slightly, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender even as his eyes widened. "You're still not Nat." He muttered, one hand moving to rub at the back of his head as he began to scrutinize her just as much as she was of him.

He was young, 214781 realized as the man, boy, shrugged, his hands going to stick into his pockets. He wasn't young enough for 214781 to think that he was a child, but 214781 could recognize the markers of someone attempting to appear older then they were. If she had to bet, she'd probably put this man a touch older then the young man still collapsed on her bed. Eighteen was a bit young but twenty-two didn't seem to fit either. Shaking her head, 214781 crossed her arms and stepped back from the door, nodding for him to come in. “Look, at this point we know I’m not Jane Foster or Nat.” The young man paused mid-step and 214781 rolled her eyes at the confused look the man had adopted. Figuring that it couldn’t hurt to ask, 214781 gestured to herself as she shut the door. “But do you know who the hell, I am?”

To her surprise, the boy considered the question, squinting at her as he gave her a quick look. “Well, I haven’t stolen from you, and I haven’t been sent to kill you either...” He offered helpfully with a small smile, his gaze flicking to her hands. For a moment, it was silent in the apartment and 214781 wasn't sure she should be flattered he hadn't looked away from her, or concerned, but before she could make the decision, he grimaced, his fingers fluttering out something she couldn’t catch. “But you sign like Nat, and generally anyone that has the same skill set as Natasha makes me a little nervous.”

Flattered. 214781 was going to go with taking his interest as flattery. Heaving in a breath, she figured it was probably a good thing to hear that nothing had been stolen and at least he wasn’t going to try and kill her.

214781 could work with this.

The boy raised a hand nervously, his other hand going to rub at his ear as he looked around the apartment. “So, uh, any ideas on why I can hear you? Perfectly. Without my hearing aids?”

214781 had just managed to look up at the ceiling when she heard a soft rustle from the bed. Spinning, 214781 opened her mouth to begin scolding the injured prince. Men. Honestly, he was still bleeding in some places and 214781 didn't have anyway to patch him up if he suddenly dropped to the ground due to complications. Glaring, 21471 folded her hands together as Loki shot her an annoyed glance. From her own experience, she knew better then to offer help as he held onto the back of a chair to straighten to his full height.

It wasn't easy to admit to needing help.

Nor was it easy accepting help when the phantom presence of other hands pressed against your skin.

That was a fate 214781 would never wish upon anyone.

Letting go of the chair, Loki tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, a cocky little smirk plastering itself onto his face. "You might want to blame the Tesseract." Loki drawled as he pointed to the ceiling and moved to stand behind 214781. The boy stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed, and Loki raised an eyebrow, looking over the lack of abrasions on the boy’s limbs with a frown. “How long have your monsters had you?”

“Monsters?” The boy questioned as he edged past Loki with a confused tilt of his head. “There were no monsters…” he paused, his eyes widening as he finally managed to take in the entire apartment.

Sensing that something had just slipped into place in the boy’s mind, 214781 stepped in front of Loki and kept her hands up. She knew that look. Sometimes when she woke up under the curtains, the urge to destroy was too much for her to handle. She didn’t want to think about what that would mean when there were other people in the apartment. “Its alright.” She murmured, her hands still up where he could see them. His gaze focused on her hands, and biting her lip, 214781 took the chance to bring her hands down and sign as she spoke. “They don’t have you anymore.”

Anger clouded the boy’s eyes. “Tell that to the bastard behind you.” He spat, his hands clenching at his sides. “Good men died because of you!”

The blood in 214781’s veins froze, her fingers stilling from the constant assurance she had been absently sending. She didn't dare take her eyes off the young man in front of her, but she still tilted her head to move the prince into her field of vision. “Loki?”

The prince’s face turned a pale white, his cheeks tinged with blue. “The invasion has started.” He croaked, his hand snaking towards 214781’s shoulder before suddenly changing direction and going to rub at his forehead. In front of her, the other man stepped forward and 214781 quickly slipped between the two men, her hands raised slightly to keep them apart. She wasn't sure what was going on but she wasn't willing to take any chances.

A mask of stoicism slipped onto Loki's face and a shiver raced down 214781's spine. From what she could tell, Loki wasn't overly expressive but she wasn't sure it was a good thing when he did cover the few emotions he felt comfortable to show.

“What was that plan of yours before we were so rudely interrupted, Midgardian?” Loki's fingers were twitching at his sides and 214781 had to resist the urge to take a step back when small sparks began to pop into existence near his knuckles.

“Did you not hear what I said, asshole?” the boy snarled as he paced forward, his fingers spilling threats 214781 found ridiculous and anatomically impossible.

214781 grabbed the boy as he tried to force past her. The whole scene was oddly familiar for some reason but 214781 didn't have the time to wonder why has she strained to push the man backwards. “Hold your horses’ kid. He’s been here for a week before you got here.”

Both men froze and they slowly turned to look at her. Once again the sensation that this had happened before raced through her veins and 214781 had to push down the irritation at the realization that the only thing tugging at a memory was arguments. Shaking her head, 214781 pushed against the young man again, forcing him to shudder to a halt. Annoyed, 214781 smacked his shoulder and crossed her arms. "I think we're all mature adults here." She snapped, her gaze pinning the man in place. "So, are you ready to listen?"

It took a few moments, but eventually the man's shoulders slumped somewhat, and once she was sure the boy wouldn’t fly off the handle, 214781 gestured to the apartment with a sweeping gesture. “This is my head, time gets a little wonky sometimes.” She explained with an apologetic wince when Loki speared her with a look. Ignoring the young man in front of her, 214781 narrowed her eyes in response. “I had to keep myself sane somehow over the past sixty-six years.”

She wasn't going to apologize for that.

"Miss?" The young man shuffled back into her line of sight, one hand reaching out to grab her wrist. Had 214781 not heard and seen the complete panic the boy was starting to exude, she probably would have flipped him over her shoulder. As it was, 214781 had to fight the urge to stiffen at the contact. "Miss, how long have I been here?"

As gently as she could, 214781 patted the young man on the hand, her own smile turning slightly sickly. “Kid, its been maybe three seconds. If you were to leave right now, I doubt anyone would have noticed anything different with you.” She heaved in a breath, hoping neither man was going to jump her for what she was about to say. “Look, I sped up our,” she gestured between herself and Loki with a wince, “perception so that he wouldn’t feel anything else the monsters did to him and so that his wounds would heal without him noticing. Its not like I’ve got first-aid kit here.” She finished with a choked chuckle.

From the slack-jawed looks both men gave her, it seemed her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat.

Loki’s jaw went slack. “But that means you took all the…”

214781 scratched the back of her head as she nodded. “It’s not like I haven’t felt worse. Besides,” she pointed at the door that lead no where with a wobbly grin. “Shields.”

“No wonder you looked like hell, Loki.” The boy interjected with a musing sort of mumble. Rubbing at his forehead, he shook his head before he offered his hand. “Nat’s going to kill me for this,” he said in an undertone even as he tossed out another smile. “My name is Clint Barton. Someone said something about a plan to get out of here?”

…***…

“That’s not going to work.”

214781 lifted her hands in defeat. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No.” Loki drawled as he kicked his legs up onto her table. He was absently fiddling with a small blade, and 214781 thought that if he was going to flip it up into the air one more time, she was going to take his pretty little blade and shove it into his leg. If only to keep him still.

Rubbing at her temples, 214781 leaned back in her chair and did her best to calm down. She wasn't angry. She wasn't even frustrated with the two boys in her apartment. She was too desperate for conversation and human interaction for that to happen anytime soon. But, she was tired. She wasn't going to tell them, not unless one of the two asked her first, but both boys had taken damage before they had gotten swept through her mental shields. 214781 hadn't a clue as to how they had gotten into her head, no matter how many times Loki attempted to explain that the true answer was magic and cosmic infinity stones, but what she did know was that something was shoring up her flagging shields. She hadn't been able to manipulate her own perception for years, let alone interact with memories or people for that matter. Yet, here she had two young men in her head and every injury and every ache that Loki had felt and that Clint was somehow getting, 214781 had managed to redirect to herself.

214781 had shields and they didn't. She wasn't going apologize for taking on that burden.

Tugging at her hair, 214781 leaned forward to catch Loki's eyes as another jolt of unfamiliar pain bloomed across her shoulders. "Alright, how about..."

...***...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

214781 glared at Loki, her fingers twitching on the tabletop. They still didn't have any idea on what to do and 214781 was about two seconds away from picking up the obnoxious prince by the back of his neck and throwing him out the door, just to see what would happen. Clint, the purple disaster, had wandered off after 214781 and Loki had gotten into their third shouting match. Apparently maturity wasn't something princes learned in diplomacy classes.“Why’s Natasha’s name on the wall?” Clint suddenly shouted.“Don’t touch those.” 214781 growled as she twisted out of her chair, the hair on the back of her neck beginning to raise. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew Clint hadn't meant anything by getting close to the names, but 214781 was still twitchy from the questions Loki had been asking her before Clint had appeared in her doorway. She couldn't lose another name. She wouldn't survive it. "Back off." The words were a hoarse growl and it took everything 214781 had not to forcibly pull Clint away from the wall.Behind her, Loki gave a strangled cough. Her nerves frayed, 214781 jumped, her heart freezing as she cleared the chair and landed in a crouch. Shaken, she turned slightly to glare at the prince, only to realize the man had fallen onto the ground, his eyes wide and focused on her hand. Slowly, her heart began to beat in her ears and 214781 looked down to realize she had somehow managed to grab Loki’s knife mid spin.Swallowing, 214781 looked between the knife and Clint. The young man had already slipped backwards a step, his hands raised beside his head in a gesture of surrender and his gaze pinned to her hand. "I didn't mean it." he whispered.The walls were too close, 214781 thought as she tightened her grip on the knife. The walls were too close and there were hands on her shoulders. There were hands on her shoulders and the pressure was wandering across her back. Her other hand came up to cover her mouth as she tried to hold in the shudder. She needed to get away from the hands. She knew the hands weren't real but that didn't stop the sensation.She shoved her hand through her hair and tugged, letting the discomfort settle her in a way nothing else could.She needed to get to the wall. She needed to get to the names. She needed to make sure they were still there. She needed to move. She needed...She needed...Swallowing, 214781 flipped the knife around in her hand before she turned and absently slammed it into the table. Panic had made her pulse surge in her throat and the static in her ears was back. She didn't dare take her hand off the knife yet, ashamed to reveal how much her hands were shaking. “Don’t touch those names.” 214781 eventually managed to choke out, her gaze stuck somewhere on the window as she fought the urge to duck under the table and draw her knees up to her chin.Clint stepped back, his hands still up in the air. “No touchy. Got it.” He gave her a shameless grin as he glanced back at her wall of names again, making no notice of her apparent emotional instability. “But seriously, why do you have Nat’s name on your wall?”Staring at the purple disaster that had graced her apartment with his presence, 214781 had to wonder when the names became disassociated with faces. When had the memories disappeared? When had the names become nothing more then words that she desperately carved into the walls? When had she lost that part of herself?When had these names become more important then her own?Swallowing her unease, 214781 let go of the knife and forced herself to join Clint at the wall. Looking up at the man, she placed her hands on the wall, tracing the lines tenderly. "Which one's Nat?"Something in her voice must have given Clint reason to pause, because instead of a flippant answer, the man grabbed on of her hands in his and guided her fingers to trace one name that was slightly deeper then the others. "Natasha Romanov is my partner. She saved my life when I was young and I've been doing my best to return the favour for years."214781 tilted her head, her fingers curling over the name as Clint took a step back. Natasha. Natasha Romanov. A little Russian firebrand.Startled, 214781 yanked her hand back from the wall and stared at the name.How did she know that? How did she know about Natasha? How did she know about a little redheaded girl who, who......***...
"Protect your sisters, Little One."

Silver fingers carded through red hair, before going down to cup the cheek of a tiny little dancer. Two little pale hands, smudged with gun oil and dried blood, grasped silver fingers with surprising strength. "Da, Soldat."

"Shoot anyone who comes through that door." 214781 stood up, her hand falling away from the little girl's cheek with a soft smile. "You shoot anyone who comes through that door, even if its me."
...***...Blinking down at her right arm, it took 214781 a moment to find her voice. "Does the Little One still dance?" She croaked, unsure if she was asking the right question. Beside her, Clint startled, his gaze snapping down to look at her even as 214781 ran her fingers along the little spider's name. As the silence between them grew, 214781 turned to look Clint in the eye. "Does the Spider still dance?"Clint's cheeks paled and the man drew a hand along his face, his palm eventually coming to a halt over him mouth. "You're from the Red Room." The words were muffled but 214781 could still hear the horror in his voice.Before she could think, 214781 threw herself forward, her own hand slapping over his. Her right shoulder ached and it was with great trepidation that 214781 looked over her shoulder to the room beside the chair. The door frame was flaking red paint but even from where she stood, 214781 could still see the carved spiders crawling up and down the wood. This time, she didn't bother to hide the shaking in her hands as she raised her free hand to place a finger in front of her mouth. "We don't say that name. We don't want to wake it up."Even left with only impressions, 214781 knew that room was dangerous. The chair she could destroy over and over, but that room, that room was far too much for her to handle on her own.On the other side of the table, Loki finally managed to drag himself up to his feet. With a seriousness 214781 hadn't seen from the young prince, Loki yanked the knife out the table and slid towards 214781 with frightened eyes."Is there anyone else in here?" He whispered, his hand going back to grab at her suspender, as if to ground himself in the present.214781 didn't object to the movement, not when she noticed the tense line of his shoulders and remembered what he had whispered to her before Clint had walked through the front door. The prince had been tortured too, he would understand her fear. He would understand that sometimes the worst danger was the monster one created in their own minds.As the three of them huddled beside her mattress, the Red Room door handle trembled....***...
"Geist. Geist. Geist. Don't tell me you're attached to the beasts...." He crooned.

214781 couldn't see who was talking, not with the way she was pinned against the wall, her hands pinned above her head. Panic was beating a tattoo in her ears and 214781 was desperate. He  wouldn't, couldn't get to the girls. She had to stop him. She had to stop him. Her little Spiders. Her little girls. They were under her protection. They were hers. She would defend them until her last breath. Furious, 214781 kicked out, growling as her foot missed the figure in the shadows by mere centimeters.

"Oh, don't give me that look. Defiance won't get you anywhere." A hand came up to caress her cheek, and 214781 turned her head into the hand, drinking in the warmth even as she twisted to bite down onto his hand. For once, she welcomed the blood into her mouth.

He must have smacked her, because the next thing she knew, her vision was pure white and her ears were ringing. Blinking her way through the pain, 214781 realized that the tender spot on the back of her head back to be the rebound of the smack. He had hit her so hard that she had slammed her head against the wall. Shaking her head, 214781 growled as her vision came back. If she could just get one arm free. If she could just...

"I think its time for reprogramming, don't you?" He sounded disappointed.

214781 screamed.
...***...214781 heaved in a breath and forced herself not to react to her own screams echoing in her ears. "Just, don't go near that door."The trembling of the door handle stopped and 214781 found she could breath easy again. Worrying away at her bottom lip, 214781 gently released Loki's hand from her suspender. “I can’t hide you two from the nightmares in my own head.” She admitted, her head bowed she wouldn't have to see the sympathy in the eyes of the men. Something wet touched her palm, and she shrieked, causing Loki to spin around with his knife held out. Clint looked amused as he stuck out his tongue, causing her to realize he had licked her hand.He had licked her.Like a dog.She flapped her hand in the air as she flipped him off. Clint shrugged but faster then she could dodge, he snagged her hand out of the air, and stared at her forearm. “214781.” He read, his lips pinched into a firm line. “I know these numbers.”Hope blossomed in 214781’s chest and she flipped her hand over to grab at his wrist. “You know me?” she couldn’t stop the needy undertone that threaded through her voice.Clint hesitated, his gaze flicking to the wall of names again. “Well, not personally, but…” he swallowed, his eyes widening, “you said you’ve been with monsters for sixty-six years.” His voice was still soft, his eyes searching her face for something 21748 couldn't identify. “And you’ve got Captain America and his Sargent..."...***...
The woman's blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun and pinned underneath a nurses hat, but even as 214781 noted the tired lines carved into the woman's face, she was pinned into place by startlingly clear blue eyes. Frozen, 214781 could only watch as the woman's hands shook as she picked up the brown haired boy at 214781's feet. Beside the woman was a boy, his cheeks gaunt even as a hopeful smile bloomed under the slowly developing bruise on his cheek.

Slowly, the woman sank to her knees, her hands shaking even as she held onto the blond for balance."Oh," there was static where the name should have been, but 214781 didn't care, not when the woman shook her head with a soft smile and picked the boy up with little difficulty. "What did you three do this time?"

There was safety here, 214781 thought as she grabbed the blond's hand and watched as the other boy was brought into another room. "It'll be okay..."
...***..."...Director Carter,..." ...***...
A young woman exploded out of bed. In her hand was an umbrella and 214781 could only watch in amazement as the woman slammed the implement over the head of the crowing gentleman, sending him crashing to the ground. Now on her feet, the woman pulled her shift closer to her body and glared at the man on the ground. In retrospect, it was amazing that the gentleman hadn't moved but 214781 was too focused on the fact the woman had managed to bend the umbrella over the man's head with little difficulty, to think about the fact the man still wasn't moving.

Before she could react, the woman slammed the umbrella over the man's head one more time. A sense of pride bloomed in 214781's chest and right then and there, 214781 knew she'd do anything to keep this woman safe. She'd walk through hell if it meant that this woman's spirit would never be dampened. Foolishly, 214781 opened her mouth to compliment the woman, but she turned on her heel and pointed the umbrella towards 214781 with a furious expression. "What is so important that you had to burst in here at," the woman paused, her gaze flicking towards the clock on the bedside table. Involuntarily, 214781 gulped, this wasn't going to end well. "two in the morning?"
...***..."...and the Starks on this wall...”...***...
214781 was looking through a scope at a boy and an old man. Nearly a kilometer away, the boy was holding up a wrench, bopping it through the the air to punctuate whatever he was ranting about. Behind him, the old man had his sleeves rolled up and he was crouched down facing an old motorcycle that seemed vaguely familiar. The boy had a scrunched up expression and 214781 followed his movements as he handed the old man, his father 214781 realized belatedly, the wrench.

214781 swallowed, pulling the barrel of the gun up as she hauled herself to her feet. She couldn't take the shot. She couldn't. It didn't matter that there was something important about this shot, that the man had done some heinous crime that still made her stomach cramp and nausea curl around her throat. The old man had done something or was going to do something. 214781 couldn't remember anymore. But, that man. He loved his son. Even 214781 could tell that from the smile that had graced his lips the few times the old man had turned around to ask for something from the boy.

Standing, 214781 slid the rifle over her shoulder and jumped down from her perch. She'd tell her handler that there wasn't a good line of sight. That the old man was too crafty and had placed the windows too high up for her to shoot through. Hopefully the father and son wouldn't go for a drive anytime soon.

Hopefully everyone would just stay inside.
...***...From 214781's point of view, Clint seemed to come to an abrupt stop, an excited smile paint across his face. Dazed, it was all 214781 could do to keep her balance and remain upright. Could it have been that she simply needed someone else to talk? That she needed someone else to trigger her memories?Could it be that she hadn't lost anything at all?Could it be that she had simply locked everything away?Hope began to blossom under her ribs and 214781 was about to return Clint's smile when he grabbed her other arm and shook her slightly, his smile becoming slightly crazed. "I only know of one person who could have all those names and have these numbers.” His gaze fell to her arm as his voice bounced around in her brain, and 214781 fought the urge to cover the numbers.Clint seemed to have missed her discomfort because he looked at Loki with that same smile. "Hello?” he shouted, shaking her as he crowed excitedly, “You’re the good man. You're the Geist!”...***...
There was a German Doctor in a suit, his shoulders bowed under a weight 214781 could sympathize with all too well. Around them lights flashed and people of all ages danced around the exposition, laughter and joyful screams echoed through the air. But, 214781's gaze was pinned on the Doctor, on how there was a smile beginning to curl around the corners of his mouth. "You are angry."

If he thought that this was anger, then 214781 had to wonder what kind of desperate men he had worked with before.

"Angry men start wars." The doctor warned.

214781 threw her head back and laughed.

War.

What a stupid thing to get involved in.

What a waste of time.

Why fight in a war when you could be at home with a good bottle in your hand and a friend at your side?

Straightening
, 214781 gave the man a look. "Angry men fight in wars, it is the bored and the desperate who start them." She finished her sentence with a wave of her hand.

The doctor seemed surprised and 214781 could only watch in amusement as the man frowned but didn't argue. "Are you a good man?"
...***..."Certainly not." 214781 responded to both the doctor and Clint, her voice hard. "I am not a good man."Clint seemed to wave that away without a thought. "No one is a good man except for perhaps Natasha's Uncles, but you are the Geist." The words came out so quick, 214781 thought at first he had choked over the words. "You're the Geist!"She stared, the name striking a cord. But, instead of the rush of warmth and familiarity she was expecting, the name caused ice to curl around her ankles and a phantom hand to circle around her throat. That sensation alone was enough to make her wonder if being the Geist was as good a thing as Clint seemed to think. Ghosts, in 214781's opinion, hardly ever heralded good tidings. Turning, 214781 caught Loki's bemused expression and stared at him beseechingly. Something from the prince's diplomacy classes must have paid off, because Loki stepped forward with a quick hand clap, startling Clint enough the purple disaster let 214781 go. "Why don't you tell us what the Geist is?" Loki suggested, one going up to cover 214781's shoulders and pulling her out of the way of a still celebrating Clint.Clint pouted slightly as 214781 was dragged out of his personal space, but he didn't argue, much to 214781's relief. Instead, Clint paused, his hands going into his pockets as he grimaced. 214781 looked up to Loki, only to catch the tail end of a look that promised retribution. 214781 gently hit the prince in the ribs. "Loki." she scolded.Loki shrugged once but didn't let her go, and 214781 rolled her eyes as she looked back towards Clint, who now looked like a kicked puppy. "No, it's alright, Miss Bakker. Natasha's my partner, I should have known better."The name drew her up short.
The man was so much bigger then her and 214781 could only think that it was stupid to wear sunglasses inside at night. Holding out her hand, 214781 sniffed disdainfully. "My name is..."
Bakker.
214781 glared up at the man who had her strapped to the table. "You wanna know what my name is?" She snarled, an old anger beginning to bubble up in her gut. "You really want to know what my name is?" Unable to move or threaten the man any further, 214781 began to laugh, reveling in how the man began to pale. "My name is Bakker and I'm the last one you'll ever get."
Miss Bakker?214781 paused, her hands coming up to grip at the hemline of Loki's shirt. Under her feet, the apartment swayed, and for a heartbeat, 214781 thought she could hear laughter rolling in through the window. That name was more than just a last name. The name was more then just hers. That name was important.Her knees hit the ground and 214781's hand was over her mouth as she stared sightless at the wall. Distantly she heard Loki saying something but she didn't care to catch it, not when the apartment was shifting under her knees and screams were echoing in her ears."Miss Bakker."214781's hand didn't leave her mouth as she looked up, not surprised to see Clint kneeling down in front of her, his hands on his knees. Unlike earlier, his eyes were soft even as his expression had become drawn and tired. "Miss Bakker, you are so much more then numbers." Clint whispered, his voice a kind balm to her soul. "Your name is Olivia."
...***...

Beside her, there was a blond boy on the ground, one hand over his cheek. He had a furious little scowl and 214781 rolled her eyes as she hefted a trashcan lid and glared over the lip at the idiots that had dragged him into the alleyway.

'"Really Mackenzie?" 214781 drawled. "Of all the people to pick on, you picked him?"

The teenager in front of her jerked to a halt, his hands lowering slightly as his glare switched from the kid on the ground to 214781. "And you are? he asked snidely.

Rolling her eyes again and begging the gods for patience, 214781 slammed the trashcan lid onto Mackenzie's chest and kicked out at the other bully. "When you go complain to Greg." 214781 huffed as she ducked a punch and slammed the lid into the bully again. "Remember to tell him it was little Ollie that kicked the shit out of you."

...***...
Scrambling to her feet in both past and present, 214781, Ollie, shoved her way past Clint and flung herself at her mattress. Desperately, 214781 stared down at the floorboard and swallowed the lump in her throat. Shakily, she looked up at Clint and pointed to the name. She didn't dare say the name out loud.That name. That name. She stared down at her floorboard. Swallowing, 214781 hauled herself to her feet and dragged Clint towards the floorboard. “Is that me?” she pointed at the name, hesitant to touch it after all this time.Clint was practically jumping up and down, somehow missing the solemnness of the moment. “Fuck yeah, that’s you!” his grin was starting to become crazed. “You’re Nat’s aunt. You broke out of, uh, the Russian Room half a dozen times. You got Nat to the states! You’re SHIELD's legend. Your skill and kill count, not including the past sixty-six years, is considered the golden standard.” He flung his hands up into the air and did a terrible little dance of happiness. “I told the other noobs you were real! I freaking told them!” For a moment, 214781 stared as the boy lost it in the middle of her living room.“Ok…?” she began, slipping back to stand beside Loki with a startled look.Then Clint suddenly paused, his hands frozen in the air. “Holy crap! You’re a girl!” He bit his lip, his eyes flashing to focus on the ground. “I mean. I knew that, but the Geist, and Director Carter, and you, and…” his eyes unfocused as he kept muttering. “Director Carter said that her Geist and Nat’s Geist weren’t the same person, since Nat’s Geist was a girl, but holy… that means…” he looked up at her, his eyes wide, “Director Carter’s Bi!” he grinned, his eyes focusing back in on her startled expression. “That’s awesome!”214781 stared at the purple disaster. "Are you referring to the times I had to fish Carter out of another girl's tent?"Clint blinked, his eyes widening. "What?"214781 paused, her hands frozen over top of the name carved into the floorboard. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"...***...They were in the middle of trying to figure out how to deal with the Chitauri when Clint's hand slammed onto the table. "Miss Bakker, I've got some bad news." Ollie braced herself for the inevitable, beside her, Loki winced, his eyes widening. "Oh no."“Miss Bakker."The name still didn't seem real. There was something off but Ollie didn't know what. Clint kept calling her Olivia or Bakker, and names grated at her skin. If Clint was to be believed then she was a hero, a woman who was thought to be dead in a ravine in the Alps. A woman who hid for years trying to help her friends. A woman who was known as Director Carter's long dead fiancee. She was a Bakker, that much seemed correct, but Olivia?Miss?The title grated at her skin."Miss Bakker." Clint's voice was solemn and Ollie shifted in her seat as the boy stared her down. "Miss Bakker, Director Carter is married."Evidently that was supposed to mean something to her. Raising an eyebrow, Ollie shrugged as she realized that if all the bad news was going to be like this, she would be able to handle whatever came next.Clint frowned. "Your fiancee." he prodded her. "The love of your life. She's married." Pausing, Clint grimaced, his hands curling on the tabletop. “You’re not going to kill Agent Sousa, are you?” Clint asked, half bent over so he could search her downcast face for any signs of violence.Ollie supposed she should have been insulted that Clint thought she'd murder someone because a woman she barely remembered had married someone who made her happy. Leaning across the table, Ollie clasped Clint's hands in her own. "Clint, I'm old." She stated, a sad smile curling around her lips. "From what I can remember, which isn't much," Clint chuckled with her and Ollie squeezed his hands again. "I went down, single. There was no promise ring around my finger, nor did I put any promise ring around anyone else's finger."Ollie wasn't sure if it was true, but she figured she'd remember being engaged. Besides, if Ollie was thinking of the right person, then Peggy Carter's husband was had more to fear from his wife then he did a half dead spy.Peggy Carter.Ollie owed the woman a lovely new red dress."Director Carter, lied?" Clint's scandalized expression made Ollie sigh even as she cast her eyes upwards for patience."I hid as a man for so long, Clint, I thought my name was Olivier for a little while." Ollie deadpanned, taking unholy glee from the boy's suddenly terrified expression. "If I risked my cover by giving a woman a ring, then it would be to stop men from trying to crawl into her bed."From the look Clint gave her, the very thought was blasphemy. “Director Carter would have killed them!” Clint shouted, his hands flapping around as he spazzed.“Well, there was a war going on, and we needed all the men we could get.” Ollie offered in explanation as still framed images of a woman filtered into her brain. “With the amount of men chasing her skirt, killing them would have made her an ally off the Germans.”“Well, Midgardian,” Loki drawled, a smile flicking around his lips, “at least we know your name.”“And apparently my fiancée.” Ollie drawled, smirking at the sudden blush that covered Clint’s cheeks. Rubbing her temples Ollie figured she had to be grateful for Loki's timely interruption. “So, to sum it up, we're currently stuck in my head, bowed to the whims of mythical mystic orb, and we have no way out?”Loki shrugged even as he cast a nervous glance up to the glowing ceiling. “Seems like it.” "You know," Ollie said, the palms of her hands pressed against her eyes and her fingers tugging at her hair. "This would be about the right time for..."There was a knock at the door."Oh goodie." Ollie drawled. Lifting her head, Ollie got a front row seat to the over the top reactions from Loki and Clint. The prince fumbled the knife he had been spinning about, Clint just fell out of his chair. Throwing her arms up into the air, Ollie stalked towards the door with a growl. It wasn’t that she didn’t want visitors, but this was simply ridiculous. Her shields wouldn't be able to handle much more. It was her head, there shouldn’t have been anyone here to begin with.Throwing open the door, Ollie met the gaze of a startled portly gentleman. “I don’t suppose you were tapped on the chest by a scepter wielding wanna-be king?” She couldn't help the sarcasm.The man blinked. “Well, we all were.” He gestured over his shoulder to a small crowd of muttering suits. Ollie could only blink in response.“You might as well come in.” she groaned, shooting Loki a look. This was going to give her a headache, she just knew it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Bucky had a list. The list itself wasn't overly important, he had written it when most of the shock of the 21st century had worn off, and he had managed to rip it up before Peggy or Steve had wondered what he was doing with a scrap piece of paper and a pencil nub. On some of his more morbid days, Bucky had to wonder if Steve had done something similar but he wasn't sure how to ask.How did one ask about what they feared?Staring down at his boots, Bucky was proud of the fact he had managed to keep his jaw clenched and hadn't done anything to embarrass himself. When Fury said that they needed to 'save the world' he had neglected to mention anything about planes. Had he known there was going to be a plane, Bucky's decision might have been slightly different. As it was, he had three things that he could have done without every having to get up close and personal with for the rest of his life, how ever long that might be.The first was planes. Oh sure, it sounded stupid but he could look at planes, hear them go overhead, and walk around in one perfectly fine. It was the flying bit that he had a small problem with. He still wasn't sure if he forgave Carter for dragging them to DC in a plane. On the way back, he was renting a car. Hell, maybe he would get a motorcycle and then just play tourist in the 21st century. That didn't sound too bad. Chewing on his bottom lip, Bucky let his head fall against the back of his seat, the tense line in his shoulders easing slightly as he began to plan the journey in his head.Maybe he and Steve could even go over the border and find the old Bakker home Ollie had muttered about when he was sick. Sixty-six years Ollie had been dead, seventy-six years since he had left his home land. Pausing, Bucky curled his fingers under his seat and fought the urge to snarl. Seventy-six years and maybe, just maybe, Bucky would finally be able to solve the problem that had been bugging him since he first woke up on Sarah's bed and realized there was another boy helping Steve with his homework.Where was Ollie's family?Where did Ollie come from?Because, losing one child in the shuffle of paperwork and letters across continents, Bucky could understand. But, two? Leo and Ollie? By all accounts, Leo was a teenager when he died, there had to have been some record of him at least. Swallowing, Bucky realized that he wasn't going to be able to let this rest. He and Steve had sworn for years that they'd find Ollie's parents, he wasn't going to let something like three quarters of a century stop him from trying. He, they, owed Ollie that much.The plane jolted in the sky and Bucky swore, all thoughts of the trip thrown out of his head as he grabbed onto Steve's arm and refused to let go. His list. His damn list. If planes were at the top, then the second thing he hated was the sky, or rather, being in the sky, and the third thing was water.Large bodies of water.Large bodies of water that could freeze.Bucky rather thought he was allowed to have that fear considering the circumstances.The plane jolted again and Bucky let his head thump against the seat once more, the tension in his shoulders returning. His eyes closed, Bucky was surprised he still had enough faith to pray. The realization had him chuckling around the Hail Mary.His faith hadn't been enough to save him the last time they were on a plane.Bucky took in another rattling breath. One would think it was trains he a had a problem with considering Ollie’s screams still echoed low in his ears. But no, it was planes. Glancing over at Steve, Bucky wondered why Steve seemed so content sitting in the seat, flipping through a file, mouthing some of the words to himself when he paused midway through a page, his finger hovering over a sentence that apparently wasn't making any sense. Ordinarily, this would be when either Bucky, Ollie, or Peggy leaned over his shoulder and puzzled through the problem with him. However, Bucky was happy to stay in the seat, not lean in any direction, and just hug the wall until the trip was over.Was that too much to ask?Apparently so, as Steve gave up and dropped the file into his lap, absently pointing to the name at the top. For a moment, Bucky thought about what would happen if he just pushed the file back onto Steve's lap. Steve would probably become flustered and then Bucky would have to deal with the embarrassed blush that spread all the way to the tops of his ears. Out of the three of them, Steve had the most education, Ollie and Bucky had dropped out midway through high school, but out of the two of them, Bucky seemed to have picked up the language curve since the war.Whatever was in the file was probably a whole bunch of abbreviations and words that had changed subtlety in meaning.  In the end, Bucky decided he was going to be grateful for the distraction, and he flipped his hand over and squeezed Steve’s fingers twice, a habit left over from when it wasn’t safe to talk during the war. Raising an eyebrow, Bucky tilted his head to better read. Dr. Bruce Banner. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Bucky took a moment to think, the name tugging some memory in the back of his mind.Maybe Peggy had mentioned him?Tilting his head, Bucky had to concede to himself that it was possible Peggy had simply dropped the name one evening but there was something else there…Something Bucky had been surprised about when he had first heard the name. Something important. With a slight furrow in his brow, Bucky tugged the file closer and flipped it open, surprised to see that the entire information packet was less then three pages, front and back. Worst of all, all the pages were blacked out for ‘security purposes’.It was good to know he and Steve were trusted.“I thought you said the fella’s name was Loki?” Bucky eventually tossed out as he held up the picture of a slightly baffled looking gentleman, glasses askew on his nose and his hair fluffed up from what Bucky thought might have been him tugging at it one to many times.From the other side of the plane, Coulson jumped to his feet as if stung. “Well, yes, but that’s Dr. Banner, the Hulk. He’s been called in to help track the Tesseract.”Bucky looked back down to the file, flipping through the retracted papers doubtfully. “I’ll take your word for it.”Beside him, Steve chuckled under his breath. “I remember this guy, Peggy said he tried to replicate the serum. It didn’t turn out though.”The proverbial lightbulb went off over Bucky’s head. That was it. The serum. Dr. Banner had attempted to bring the serum into stage one testing against the wishes of the board. Peggy had given him the official statement to read, shrugging when Bucky complained about the lack of information. According to the official statement, Dr. Banner had successfully injected himself, moments before an explosion ripped through his lab. There were reports of a green monster, dubbed the Hulk by campus staff, and then Dr. Banner disappeared.Silence fell through the plane, and Bucky let his head fall back against the wall. There was something else…There was something else that was important.Something Peggy had asked…“Gamma!” Bucky shouted as he snapped his fingers together. “Gamma radiation!”Beside him, Steve chuckled again, his eyes rolling in fond exasperation. “Always the bookworm, eh Bucky?”“Hey, you and I both know Gamma was not the way to go. It nearly blew you up. Peggy told me everything.” Bucky elbowed him in the ribs, his mind flashing back to when Howard and Peggy had sat him down and explained what Steve had gone through during the experiment. Howard had been pale, one hand on a bottle, his eyes off in the distance as he had admitted that the Gamma might have been a little higher then he had originally thought. For a moment, Steve looked terrified. “Is that all she told you?”Immediately, Bucky’s hackles began to rise. “Steve…” he warned, leaning in close, “what the hell did you do...?”…***…It was Coulson who finally broke the stony silence that fell between Bucky and Steve, when the latter refused to answer what he had done without Bucky knowing. Coulson, standing a few feet between the cockpit, eventually looked to both men with a hopeful expression. “Could you tell me more about the Geist? I can’t find anything on him.”Not for the first time, Bucky had to wonder what Ollie was doing. Had been doing. What was terrible enough to warrant a loss of the entire history of hero? Ollie wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t SSR. And he wasn’t a civilian. Ollie was some odd mix of all three and neither. He didn’t doubt there weren’t many files to destroy, Ollie had habit of disappearing from people’s radar that way, but still, why?Rubbing a hand over his brow, Bucky allowed himself a small sigh. The Geist. It always came back to the Geist. “Ollie,” there was no way he was going to call Ollie by anything but his name, damnit, “was a damn idiot who had thing for blowing up buildings and giving me a heart attack. He also made a name for himself without us knowing.”And didn’t that hurt?Ollie. Alone. In the field. A rifle slung over his shoulder, a lucky held between his teeth, and a bottle strapped to his hip. Ollie fought alone and he died alone.Shaking his head, Bucky tuned back into the conversation in time to catch the beginning of Steve’s laughter. “Do you know how many people used to ask us where Ollie was?” Steve shook his head, ignoring Coulson’s disbelieving stare. “A lot. It was a lot. And do you how hard it is to say, ask my roommate, when the roommate had a habit of disappearing?”“Out the window.” Bucky interjected, before he could help himself. Dear lord, the amount of times someone had barged into either their apartment or tent, only for Ollie to throw himself out the window was ridiculous. You would almost think he had something to hide.“You lived with him?” It wasn’t hard to hear the awe in Coulson’s voice, and Bucky had to wonder, what had Ollie done that made him so much more intriguing then Captain America himself.Steve smiled, and for a moment, Bucky could have sworn there was apple pie and sunshine in the seat next to him. “My mother gave the boy a bed and the next thing I knew…”“There were two of them.” Bucky groaned overt op of whatever Steve was about to say. He could still remember when Ollie had appeared in the alleyway wielding a trashcan. The boy hadn’t backed down and the older he got, the worse it became. Steve, Bucky could at least count on being down an alleyway somewhere. Ollie?Only his gods knew where he went.“It wasn’t that bad!” Steve growled, jokingly throwing an arm over Bucky’s head, successfully dragging the man out of his reminiscing.Shaking his head, Bucky shot a quick jab to his husband’s ribs, his response dragged out of his throat with a rasping growl. “Ollie had a compulsive need to climb out a window instead of using the stairs and you had to follow him, because god knows you had a fight lined up somewhere down the block.” On the other side of the plane, Coulson looked downright gleeful as he scribbled something in his notebook. Ignoring him, Bucky rubbed the bridge of his nose and lowered his voice. “Do you know how many first-aid kits we went through?” There was a grim silence from Steve, and Bucky hunched his shoulders slightly with a sigh. “Do you know how much you made Ollie drink?”Steve didn’t seem to have a reply.…***…The moment the plane had touched down, Bucky bolted out onto the ground. He didn’t throw himself onto the ground, but it was a close thing. Instead, with the duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, Bucky allowed himself to take a moment to simply breathe.And then he heard waves.Opening his eyes slowly, Bucky looked out over the horizon in horror. He was on a ship. A battleship. On water. Bucky staggered back a step, stumbling into Steve. The air in his lungs seemed to disappear, and Bucky’s hands began to shake. Frost nipped at his fingertips and ice clung to his ankles.Water.Planes.Ships.God, this was awful.“Hello gentlemen.”The voice made him jump about a foot into the air, one hand clamping onto Steve’s wrist to tug his husband behind him. Spinning around, Bucky froze as a young woman with red hair like a fire brand, stepped out onto the deck, one hand raised to brace against the blustering wind. Grinning, the woman gave him a quick grin, turning towards Coulson solemnly.The older agent must have seen something in the girl’s glance, because he looked up to the sky with a groan. “Don’t tell me.” Coulson scowled, a playful light emerging in his eyes. “Fury wants to see me.”The woman nodded, and Coulson, chuckling slightly, began to walk off. “We need them in one piece, Natasha.” He warned, tossing the remark over his shoulder like a parting shot.Bucky froze, Steve’s hands falling away from his waist in a chilling sort of sting. Oh god, Bucky thought in horror, the ice moving from his fingertips to the inside of his lungs. Don’t let this firebrand be another Carter. He wasn’t sure he’d survive another one. The last one ended with him putting a plane into the water. Coyly, Natasha waltzed forward, her hand held up for a quick handshake. Automatically, Bucky grabbed the woman’s hand, a smile becoming fixed on his face. Steve followed suit, but it wasn’t until the girl hissed slightly that Bucky realized the man had grabbed the girl’s hand a little too tightly.Bucky trod on his foot.Steve released the girl’s hand as if burned.To the firebrand’s credit, she barely even flinched. Instead, the woman grinned, the smile highlighting her features and making the shadows disappear from the edges of her eyes. “Hello Steven. Yasha.” She nodded to them both, her smile widening at Bucky’s step backwards. “It’s nice to see Director Carter managed to get you up and moving.”“What…?” Bucky eventually managed, his hand on Steve’s wrist tightening. Peggy had said no one would know who they were. Peggy had promised.The war was over. Bukcy reminded himself quickly as his hand fell to his hip absently.The war was over.They weren’t soldiers anymore.They were…Bucky paused, his heart in his throat as Natasha's words finally sparked something in his brain. The firebrand knew Carter. The firebrand knew they had been found. Peggy couldn’t have gotten them out by herself, and Howard was an old man. They would have needed help, Bucky rationalized, calming slightly.It was ok.They were ok.Then it dawned on him the name she used, and Bucky turned to squint at the firebrand. “Yasha?” He bit out as he tried to match the firebrand’s looks to Ollie, Olivia, or Yahannes. “Are you a Bakker?” Bucky tossed out when the girl would only look at him with a bemused smile. “Don’t tell me you’re a Bakker. The Bakker’s keep calling me Yasha, and I’d really like to know why.”The firebrand blinked, her mask of puzzlement fracturing. “The Bakkers…?”Backtracking, Bucky tried to cover his mistake. Ollie had kept secerets and god knew he wasn’t going to be the one to reveal them. Smiling, he ducked forward and offered her a hand, falling back onto old habits. “And for the last time, its James.” He winked at her, hoping his charm still worked.Steve elbowed him in the ribs.The firebrand blushed, a small smile curling around the corner of her lips, and for a moment, Bucky firmly believed he had done it. He had managed to distract the girl. His charm still worked. Then, the firebrand leaned forward. “Now, now, Yasha.” She purred, her hand latching onto his wrist as she curled herself around him, her lips brushing his ear. “What would your priest say if he saw you flirting outside the bands of marriage?”Behind him, Steve choked.The blood in Bucky’s veins froze. Priest. Marriage. She knew…The firebrand leaned back, Ollie’s cocky little smirk widening across her face. “Uncle Ollie would be so disappointed.”Even though the deck was bustling with movement, for a moment, Bucky could have sworn the world stopped between Natasha’s smirk, and Bucky’s heartbeat. He would be the first to admit he and Steve had been openly affectionate, but no one should have been able to accuse of marriage.And besides…Uncle Ollie?Claws ripped at Bucky’s lungs and his breath stuttered.Ollie’s brother was dead. The Bakkers had disowned Ollie. Ollie had no nieces and no nephews, and Olivia had disappeared into the war. Ollie had no children.Ollie wasn’t an uncle.Steve grabbed at the firebrand’s wrist. “Who are you?” The question was low and rough, years of fear and paranoia ripping through each word.At the same time, Bucky leaned forward, staring the girl in the eyes. “Don’t tell me he would be disappointed.” He growled, unusually stung by the accusation. Ollie wouldn’t have cared. In fact, he had told Bucky to flirt on more then one occasion. Drawing attention away from Steve and their open affection.Ollie wouldn’t have cared.But how dare this child…, this…this girl, tell him that Ollie…The girl’s smirk shattered and before Bucky could react, she had somehow ripped her hand away from Steve’s grip. Her features settled into a blank mask, and it took everything Bucky had, not to step back. There was something off about this one…That’s was Ollie’s smirk.And that was Ollie’s mask.But that wasn’t Ollie.The firebrand closed her eyes as if pained, her head falling forward slightly. “Carter never told you.” The statement wasn’t a question, and Bucky didn’t treat it as one.“No.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was unfortunate, Bucky thought mournfully as he stared at Natasha, but he was going to have to break one of Ollie's steadfast rules. Some small part of him balked at the idea, the ghosts of both Sarah and Ollie leaning over his shoulder in distinct disapproval. It was rare that Sarah and Ollie had agreed on any rules, but both had pound into his head that one should never hit girls. Well, the actual rule was that he should never hit anyone except for in defense, but Ollie had always lectured him about raising a hand against any woman, so was it really his fault that the two rules had amalgamated together?His fingers curled into a fist as the silence dragged on and just as Natasha flicked her gaze to his hands, a thin, nervous looking man, stepped into the standoff. Blinking, Bucky stared at the man's back, wondering when he had become so little of a threat that someone would willing turn their back on him, even when he about to lash out. Still staring at the back of the mans head, a small tendril of thought pushed him to lean back and take in the man's stance, the loose hold to the man's shoulders and the relaxed hands held out, presumably, in front of Natasha. He knew this man.Bucky Barnes, time traveler and iceman, knew someone in the future.Wasn't that a laugh?Shaking his head, Bucky could only stare and wonder where he had seen the man before. He was in the future and his circle of acquaintances fit onto both hands with fingers left over. Recognizing someone should not be this hard. Oddly enough, Natasha seemed to tense, her head raising up in a challenge. The man barely seemed to react. In fact, the gentleman shook his head once and placed his hands behind his head, his fingers loose. "Don't be like that Agent, it's just a friendly chat."If Bucky wasn't still off kilter from Natasha's comments, he would have wondered what the hell the man had on the agent to be able to unsettle her so. As it was, Bucky shot a look to Steve who shrugged, his face set into a stony mask.The man took a step back, his hands falling back to his sides. “Let's try this again." He waved a hand to the shell-shocked firebrand. "Hello, sorry to interrupt Agent Romanoff, but,” he turned towards Steve and Bucky with an apologetic grimace, “are you okay Captain Rogers?”Bucky froze, his gaze flicking to the man as his stomach sank down to his feet. What was with everybody knowing who they were today? Three months of peace, flushed down the drain all because they had agreed to go to a meeting. Grinding his teeth together, Bucky was determined to ignore Natasha as he glared at the new interloper. He was starting to regret agreeing to join forces with Fury. Shaking his head slightly, Bucky forced his discomfort to the back of his mind. He knew that the peace wouldn't last forever, Bucky just hoped he'd survive the storm that came after the reveal. Besides, there were bigger things to worry about at the moment, such as the cosmic cube.Standing slightly behind Bucky's shoulder, Steve leaned forward, his stage-show smile plastered to his face. “Dr. Banner.” He took Banner’s hand and nodded his head politely. “The word is that you can find the cube?*”This was Dr. Banner? Bucky did a double take and withheld the urge to let his head fall into his palm. Bucky was a sniper for crying out loud, he should have been able to recognize Banner in a heartbeat. Looking the man over one more time, Bucky had to concede that the man looked healthier, less tired. The picture in the file had to be outdated considerably for Banner to contrast this much.Dr. Banner smiled, releasing Steve’s hand with a withering glance towards the firebrand. “Is that the only word on me?*”Both Steve and Bucky froze, sharing a slightly panicked look. The file couldn’t have been true. Green men? Demons? No. It couldn’t be. Resisting the urge to stare up at the heavens, Bucky closed his eyes for a moment as frustration rolled through his veins. He and Steve had already had to deal with Red Skulls and blue fantasy weaponry. Wasn't that enough for one life time?Hell, just because they had woken up in another decade did not mean his weirdness meter could reset.Dr. Banner laughed, his lips curling up into a loose smile. “Ignore the joke.” He instructed, his hands held up in a pacifying manner, one hand snaking over to gesture to Natasha. “Calm down agent. I studied the Captian’s files for research purposes. I’m probably one of the few people alive able to spot him in a crowd.” For a heartbeat, everyone stared at Dr. Banner, the reassurance doing nothing to calm any of them, and the man eventually rolled his eyes, offering his hand to Bucky. “Sargent Barnes.”Bucky blinked. That was first. Someone knew who he was. And wasn’t it sad that he had to leave his own time for that to happen. Resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes, Bucky shook the offered hand and referenced back to the previous conversation. “We heard the only words that mattered.*”Something in the man’s eyes flashed, and Bucky was reminded of the retracted file he had flipped through on the jet. Three pages and nothing of note in the file from what he could see. Remembering how Peggy and Ollie used to curse their superiors about never being able to reclaim their own files, Bucky decided to do something that would have gotten him shot in the war. But, if anything he had read online was true, then the doctor deserved to know how much Shield had on him. Motioning to Steve, Bucky offered the doctor another smile. “We read all three pages of your file.”Beside him, the firebrand stiffed, but didn’t comment. Surprised, Bucky could only watch as both the doctor and the firebrand gave him a minute nod. Licking his lips, Bucky decided to push his luck further. “I’d love to hear your theories on the serum.” Ignoring Steve’s chuckle, Bucky rolled his eyes with a smile. “I’ve got to keep this idiot alive longer this time.”The doctor choked.“Ignore the idiot. He’s still got ice in his brain.” Steve growled as he smacked Bucky upside the head, forcing the brunette to stumble forward with a grumble.Turning, Bucky shot Steve a look. The man had certainly gotten brave since he had gotten those muscles. Growling playfully, Bucky returned the swipe. “Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Steve paled and backed up with his hands in the air. Still growling, Bucky glared at him, his humour and patience stretched near their limits.“You two…” There was a slight pause as Banner tripped over his words, eventually ending lamely with, “are not what I expected.”Pausing in mid step to tackle Steve, Bucky turned to level the an with a steady glare, his eyebrows raised into his hairline. “Doctor, we’re two twenty-one-year-old super-soldiers that survived a suicide run and woke up sixty-six years in the future. Apparently smoking is bad for you, bananas taste weird, there are whole countries that no longer exist, and oh yeah,” Bucky snapped his fingers the history lesson Peggy had given them coming back, “we aren’t supposed to like the USSR?”Beside him, Steve rubbed at his jaw, his brow furrowed even as a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “I think you mean Russia, Buck.”“Yeah, them.” Bucky glowered, his hands brushing off the weirdness that was his life.Behind them, Natasha snorted softly. Meanwhile, Banner allowed a huffing chuckle to slip through his lips. “Point taken boys.”Immediately, Bucky made a cutting motion at his neck, his eyes wide. Boys. Children. Oh god. That was not something Steve took well. Jesus, this wasn’t going to…Steve grabbed at Bucky’s arm, a mischievous smile slipping onto his mouth. “Oh goodie, we’re off the hook for anything that goes wrong!”Or he could react like that.Mentally scratching his head, Bucky automatically smacked Steve’s shoulder and stared at his husband, surprised the taller man hadn't reacted negatively. “Rogers, your maturity jumped ship.” At this point the insults were pure instinct.“But, we’re kids!” Steve argued playfully, gesturing to Natasha and Banner with an innocent expression.Behind him, Bucky could see Banner’s eyes widen slightly as it dawned on the man what he had unleashed. Stepping away from the doctor, Bucky shook his head. He wasn’t going to be the one to help the man out of the hole he had dug himself. It didn’t take much to drag out the infamous Rogers’ trickster and Sarah had always blamed the old country for Steve’s lively ribbing. For Bucky, it meant there was one more person to keep alive, or, in other words, the good doctor had just gained himself two super-soldier protectors.God, Bucky wished he could drink.On his shoulder, the duffle bag shifted and for a moment, Bucky paused, his hand falling onto the strap as he frowned. He could have blamed the shift on the wind coming up over the lip of the ship, but the bag had shifted the wrong way. Mentally stepping back from the conversation taking place in front of his, Bucky placed a hand on the zipper, his mind racing. Peggy wouldn't have packed anything dangerous, or least she wouldn't have packed anything dangerous without warning them first. Still, Bucky wasn't sure he could let this one go without at least verifying that there was something moving in the bag, but before Bucky could grab the zipper and tug open the bag, Banner shook his head, dragging Bucky back into the conversation. “This has got to be strange for you, all of this.”*For a moment, Bucky looked around the deck of the ship, taking in the planes and the exercises taking place, his hand falling off the zipper. For all that the world had changed since the war, this was probably the most jarring, in that nothing was different. The shouting of the drill sergeants had Bucky’s hands twitching and his body falling into parade rest without a thought. Absently, he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and grinned slowly, steadily ignoring the bag for now. “Not really, I mean. I went through basic. Steve here though….”“I went through basic!” Steve interjected, feigning pain, his hand over his heart.Without looking over at his husband, Bucky shook his head again. “And then you proceeded to jump up how many positions?”“Hey, who blew up the camp on their first mission?” Steve shot back, a grin spreading across his face.Without skipping a beat, Bucky smacked him in the shoulder. “Ollie.”The silence that fell between the three of them was uncomfortable and tense. Steve’s shoulders were hunched and Banner must have picked up on the mood, his calculating gaze flicking between Bucky and Steve too quickly for Bucky to piece together what the other man must have thought. After a few moments, Bucky broke the silence, unable to bear with the ghost hanging over his shoulder. “You don’t seem too shocked with our appearance Dr. Banner.”Banner stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the deck. “As I said earlier, Sargent. I was surprised to see you two at first, but due to my job, I’ve studied the good captain here within an inch of his life. If you pardon the joke.” The doctor paused for a moment, a wince overcoming his features as Steve’s face turned to stone. “As soon as I figured out you might be alive in the ice, I sent Stark Sr my calculations. I never heard back. But you, Sargent…” Banner paused, his gaze flicking over Bucky with empathy rather then pity, “I assume you received the serum in the camps?”There was ice on his fingertips again and for a moment, he thought he heard Ollie shrieking in his ear. There was ice on his fingertips but there was no hellfire in his veins. Still, his tongue burned when he offered the soft, “I guess? I don’t really remember. Things got a little blurry when the drugs kicked in.”From the grimace on Banner’s face, Bucky had to wonder what, exactly, the doctor had been through to understand what Bucky was saying. Still, it was a shock when the doctor leaned forward, his voice lowered so as not to be over heard. “When this is all over, I’d love to talk to you about this.”Bucky could only nod.Steve stood as still as stone beside him, his teeth clenched hard enough that Bucky was half waiting to hear a crack. They hadn’t talked about the serum. They hadn’t talked about the camps. The war was over. Ollie was dead. They were alive and for the moment, that was all that mattered. They couldn’t stay quiet about what had happened forever, but Bucky was willing to try.“Gentlemen, you might want to step inside. In a minute, its going to get a little hard to breathe.”* Natasha spoke up from over Bucky’s shoulder, and from the sudden chuckle beside him, Bucky realized Steve had seen the firebrand’s approach, but hadn’t seen fit to warn him. As Bucky attempted to settle his suddenly pounding heart, all he could think was at least his hands were on the duffle bag. It would have very awkward to have his first introduction to Peggy’s SHIELD be in the holding cells for the assault of an agent.In his defense, the firebrand was near silent and she should have known better then to sneak up on a sniper.“Is this a sub?”* Steve’s voice was filled with awe, and Bucky was itching for his rifle. They hadn’t tested if the man was bulletproof but he figured this was a good reason to start the trials. No one should become an ice cube and then still adore the water. God knew, Bucky didn’t like planes and Steve, fucking punk ass Steve, had saddled up to every window and grinned at the scenery.The asshole.“Fuck.” Bucky swore, stumbling away from the edge, his hands tense on duffle bag. He had signed up to fix a mistake that Peggy’s protégée had created, he had not signed up for submarines. Nausea rolled in his stomach and it took everything he had not to tug Steve closer to him when Steve took another step towards the edge.He wasn’t going to get stuck under the consul again.He wasn’t going to have to sit and watch as Steve choked.He wasn’t gong to…No.Stop.Breathe.There was no ice.There was no cold.There was no…“Really? They want me to be in a submerged pressurized container?”* Banner’s voice cut through the swelling panic.Tense, Bucky looked over to see the doctor grinning and shaking his head at the watery horizon. The ice that was clinging to his spine, cracked and shattered as the man leaned over to look at the ocean with a thoughtful expression. Licking his lips, Bucky slid a step closer to Dr. Banner, still staying well away from the edge of the deck. “I’ll bolt with you, if you need someone to fly you out of here.”The doctor didn’t even look up. “Noted, however it must be stated that the last time you flew a plane, you crashed.”Bucky shrugged and hook a thumb over in Steve’s direction. “Someone killed my landing gear and my radar.” From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Steve flip him off.“Brace.” Natasha warned, one hand reaching out to gently touch his arm.Automatically, Bucky adjusted to the swell, his eyes widening as he looked out to the water. Gigantic fans crested the white caps and Bucky couldn’t stop the sigh of relief. He didn’t like planes. He loathed planes, but he wasn’t sure he could have survived being placed under water. “Oh, thank god.” He breathed, the tension he wasn’t aware of bleeding off him in waves.Beside him, Banner snorted and shook his head. “Oh no. This is so much worse.”*Somehow, Steve must have heard the comment, because the next thing Bucky knew, his husband was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, his eyes cast towards the sky. “I hate planes.” He whispered, the admission rough, as if dragged out of his throat involuntarily.Bucky tangled his fingers into Steve’s and did his best to ignore how Steve’s grip began to tighten ever so slowly. “Come on, we’d better go inside.”Surely, this couldn’t get any worse.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was the ceiling’s fault, Ollie thought hysterically as she pushed down on the wound on the suit’s shoulder. There was blood pooling between her fingers and it was taking everything she had not to show the poor boy her hysteria. As it was, the blond's hands were fluttering around, occasionally latching onto her waist as he did his best not to squirm out of her hold. They both knew the only thing keeping him alive at the moment, was her hands on his shoulder.Flicking her gaze up to ceiling as the boy bucked, she hid a snarl. When she had said she wanted company, she hadn’t meant this.She hadn’t meant death.She hadn’t meant grief.Behind her back, Clint was yelling something at another suit, Loki was lurking in the corner, and Dr. Slevig was running Ollie’s ripped sheets between Ollie and anyone else who was able to function well enough to bind the wounded. The blood hadn’t been noticeable when she had originally opened the door, but when the first man dropped, the blood had become unavoidable. In another time, Ollie would have been concerned at the sheer devastation on Loki's face as the groans and shrieks of pain bounced through the apartment, but at the moment, Ollie didn't have a second to step back and make sure the prince was alright.She had blood on her hands and death was starting to become a familiar companion again. Shaking herself, Ollie lifted her head enough to try and get a rough count of the bodies in the room. Having to restart several times as suits bolted on way or another, Ollie eventually realized that, not including the doctor, Clint, Loki, or herself, there were twenty-five people scattered around the common area, and the blood wouldn’t stop. Ollie pressed down harder on the boy's shoulder. He was young, probably around her age. Maybe he was an intern. She didn't know. But the blood. The blood. It wouldn’t stop.Why wouldn’t it stop?A hand came down on her shoulder, jerking her back to the present even as the voice murmured low into her ears. “Let it go Midgardian. That man had already passed into the halls of his forefathers.”Ollie started backwards, her hands falling off the man’s shoulder. Fear and nausea crawled up her spine and dived into her stomach. She had let go. She had let go. Throwing herself forward, Ollie slammed her hands back onto his shoulder, her head turning as she babbled something about 'everything being alright' and 'they'd all get home safety'. But instead of the pain filled nod she was expecting, glassy eyes stared back at her quietly.It was a shaky reflex that had Ollie reaching forward to place her fingers against the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse point.Nothing.“The Tesseract cannot protect everyone.” Loki mumbled into her ear as he grabbed her under the elbow and drew her up to her feet.Her hands were red, Ollie realized dimly. Her hands were red and there was blood under her nails. “But its my head.” Ollie whispered, her eyes still frozen on the fallen suit. She didn't even know his name. Ollie didn't even know his name. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Turning her head slightly, Ollie stared down at Loki's boots with a a whispered, “No one should die in my head.”“They were soldiers,” Loki offered, his voice low as he brought her back to the table. “Soldiers die.”“But this is my head.” It hurt to hear her voice as a whimper. “We’re in my shields.” Her voice was becoming shrill and she jerked away from the table, her hands flying out in front of her to keep Loki away. Her back hit the wall. Hands gripped at her skin and the faint sensation of something coming up to cover the lower half of her face hand her running her hands compulsively through her hair and scrubbing at her cheeks. “No one should be dying at all!”For a moment, the prince looked disappointed but his hands came up slightly in surrender. “Midgardian, some are not built to withstand the assault of a mind. You, at least made their last moments comfortable.”From somewhere across the room, Dr. Slevig tried to comfort her as he ripped another sheet to shreds. “There was a fight, Miss. I doubt anyone made it out unscathed.”...***...
The wolf snarled as he kicked another prone form. "Looks like it was just you and me who made it out of this one."

For a moment, Ollie couldn't say a word, her gaze stuck on the blond that was crumpled at her feet. He was young, younger then her. Too young. Oh Gods, what was this war? What was this tragedy where old men forced young boys to die out in the woods, facing monsters that should never have existed in the first place. It was with shaking hands and calm deliberate movements that had Ollie leaning down and straightening the poor dead boy out into a mockery of a funeral wake.

"Really?" The wolf asked, his softening eyes betraying his gruff tone.

"They were children." Ollie snapped, unable to bring herself to rifle through the boy's pockets.

The wolf snapped at her, his jaw clenched as he turned and punched a tree. "They were soldiers." The wolf tossed over his shoulder as he bent to let his head lean against the tree trunk, ignoring the hole he had just created.

Overhead, the trees rustled in the gentle wind, ignorant to the bloody carnage that had just taken place down below. "And we're monsters."

Her statement must not have been quiet enough, because the wolf shook his head even as he began to collect his gear. "I'm not arguing against that."
...***...We need somewhere to put the bodies.” Clint broke in, his voice rough even as he gently wound a bandage around another man’s arm. “Tobias and the others," Clint's voice wobbled for a moment and Ollie watched as he took in a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly,  "...aren’t disappearing, and I’d rather not trip over everyone as we attempt to figure out what kind of fresh hell is happening outside.”The fact Clint knew the name of the man at her feet did not escape Ollie’s notice and it was after another few shuddering breaths that Ollie managed to nod dumbly. There really wasn’t anywhere to go. The door that-lead-no-where was no place for the dead, they couldn’t stack the bodies in the bathroom, and there already five people asleep in the master bedroom.She didn’t dare touch the door that lead to the –...***...
Ollie watched as the little girl paused, her hands shaking minutely as she stared at Ollie in horror.

"Shoot her." The Matron commanded, her voice hard as she pushed the girl's hands up and pointed at Ollie.

The girl closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
...***...
"Mama?"

Ollie opened her eyes with a groan. A spider stared down at her, looming over the bed. "Mama, Nadia didn't mean it." The girl was terrified, her eyes constantly flicking between the bandaged wound and Ollie's sweat soaked brow.

Panic crawled up her spine and made her voice harsh as she grabbed at the girl's hand. "Not. Your. Mother." She pushed the girl away with enough force the child hit the ground with a small cry. No. She wasn't their mother. Couldn't be. Attachments could get the killed. No. It was far better for the Spiders to walk away hating her. It would give them drive, a reason to keep living. The man. The Engineer. The American one. He'd get her Spiders out.

She just had to wait.

He'd come for her eventually.
...***...

He

stared at her, Nadia's little body shuddering under his hands. "Come now, you didn't actually name the little beast, did you?"

Ollie was going to kill him. She wasn't sure when and she wasn't sure how, but she was going to kill him. There was a dull ache in her chest as she stared forward, unresponsive to Nadia's whimpers and his questions. Save one or doom them all? Save one girl and the whole program restarted with knew recruits. Save one girl or doom countless children to the room?

Where was the engineer?

Was was her american savior and British warrior? Where were they?

They were late.

He rolled his eyes and absently waved his hand. "What am I thinking, you can't think on your own." He grumbled, moving away from Nadia with a measured step. "Shoot her."
...***...- to the red room.Ollie's bloodied hands clamped over her ears as she curled into the wall, her eyes screwed shut. She didn't want to see anymore. She couldn't see anymore. Nadia. The girls. The spiders. Oh gods, her spiders. She had...She had....Ollie had shot her.Ollie's little spider. The smallest one of the nest. Dead. Bleeding out on the floor. Ollie had shot her. She had killed the child. The baby. The little one, gone. The wolf was right to agree with her. Ollie was a monster.Ollie was a monster in the guise of human skin.Ollie drew in another shuddering breath, forcibly pushing away the oncoming panic. There wasn't time. There wasn't time. No. She didn’t dare open the door, not with the memories that were slowly flooding the back of her mind and the low whine that was beginning to rumble in her ears. But Ollie morbidly wondered if someone else rifling through her head meant she wouldn’t have to see the memories. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Ollie hunched her shoulders under the burden of long forgotten responsibilities and pain.Pulling away from the wall, Ollie slipped around the various bodies, her eyes stuck on the archer in front of her. She didn't dare look down and see the blood. Not when the blood on her own skin was beginning to itch and the memories were bubbling and babbling like a brook behind her eyes. She needed to be able to function. She needed to be able to think. She couldn't be reminded about the spiders, not now. Her hand landed on Clint’s arm, leaving a faint outline of red on his pale skin. “What do you know of the Little Spider’s monsters?” She asked softly, her eyes flicking to the names on the wall, soft Russian lullabies whispering just behind her ears. What would she do if Clint said that she was one of the Little Spider's monsters?She deserved it.She deserved to be a monster.Clint’s hands stilled on the man’s shoulder, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “I know you saved her. I know that she screams for you in her dreams, and I know she loves you.” Clint, bless his heart, added the final part without a thought, one hand coming up to cover hers with a small smile.But each word dug a knife into her heart and it was only through long practice that Ollie managed not to bat an eye at his words, even as knifes and hands danced alone her skin and made a scream boil at the bottom of her stomach. “We don’t name monsters here.” She whispered, her gaze flicking towards the door that was beginning to shudder on its frame. “We don’t name monsters here but…”“Needs must.” Clint finished for her, his voice pitched a little higher then Ollie thought he was aiming for. “How bad was it?” He eventually asked as he climbed back up to his feet....***... 
"You are not smiling." The matron hissed as she pushed the girl's leg higher up into the air. "And you are not pointing your toes."

The girl sobbed, crying out as the matron tightened her grip.

Ollie stayed silent as she pulled another child's hair back into a severe bun, bobby pins scrapping the child's scalp hard enough to bleed as the girl in front of them screamed. Across the room, another two girls circled each other with knives flashing between lunges and perfected leaps.

"Smile. This doesn't hurt."
...***...The door shuddered, banging in its frame in a way that made the entire apartment go quiet.“Ah.” Clint managed, his eyes a little wide. “Fair point. Nat doesn’t like to talk about it either.”“That’s why we’re not going to talk about it.” Ollie growled, her arms crossed. “We’re not going to talk about it, but we are going to go in it.”Clint nodded jerkily, his teeth worrying at his lip. “I don’t like this plan.”“I’m not a fan of it either, but we might as well use that room for its intended purpose.” Ollie muttered. Even though opening the red door was the only option, Ollie wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. She didn’t like the silence, she didn’t like the cold, and she didn’t like only having names and hardly any memories, but gods, it was better then whatever was behind that door.Anything was better then what was behind that door.Clapping his hands together, Clint climbed up to his feet and offered Ollie an arm. “Ready?”Ollie shook her head and ignored the arm. There was a time to joke and a time to silently panic. Personally, Ollie rather thought this was the time to panic as she turned on her heel and marched towards the door. With every step, the door wobbled and jerked, Russian lullabies whispered behind her ears, and Ollie fought the urge to throw up.Oh gods. She couldn’t do this.She was going to be sick.There had to be another way. There had to be another option. There had to be…Ollie hadn’t even realized she had frozen outside the door, until Clint neatly step-sided her and gave her a kind smile as his hand fell upon the doorknob. “I can open it instead, if you like.” He offered, his smile strained.“They hand cuffed the girls to the beds.” The words blurted out from some dark place in the corner of Ollie’s heart, and she took a vicious sort of pleasure to see Clint flinch. “They handcuffed the girls to the beds, and they made me patrol the rooms at night.” Ollie wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. She wasn’t sure why she was standing in the hall, sharing the small snatches of memory that had managed to stay in her head. “I killed children in that room.”From the devastated smile that was plastered onto Clint’s face, she thought he knew what she meant. “You can’t scare me off Olivia.” Clint murmured, his hand tightening on the doorknob. “Besides, I rather think I’m stuck here a little longer.”And then he opened the door.If Ollie had been expecting a burst of memory to slam into her once the door was opened, she was severely disappointed. Instead, what she got was a shiver down her spine and the realization that she did not want to go into that room. She was not going into that room.In front of her, Clint was silent and Ollie watched as his shoulders slowly crawled up to his ears and his hand tightened into a fist at his side. “You’re not going in there.” The words were little more then a whisper.“I hadn’t planned on it.” Ollie whispered back, her hand reaching out behind her for the wall. Something was wrong. Something was dreadfully wrong, and she didn’t know what. ...***...
"I don't like the silence." the wolf whispered to her as they stood between the trees watching the silent town. 
Slowly, Ollie reached up a hand and hauled herself up into the branches of the tree, steadily climbing higher and higher. Underneath her, the wolf snarled and paced around the trunk. "What are you doing?" His voice was soft but Ollie could still hear it clearly.

Settling on a branch, Ollie swung her rifle off her back and leaned into the tree trunk. "Making a little noise." She tossed down to the wolf with a cocky smile as she lined up her shot with the church bell.

Taking in a deep breath, Ollie pulled the trigger.

The church exploded in rock and flame. Below her, the wolf flinched and clicked his teeth at the noise. "Well, what do you know, you hit an explosives pack."

Ollie slowly lowered the gun, her teeth clenched. No, she hadn't. She had shot the other sniper she had seen flickering in and out of the tower window. Jumping out of the tree, Ollie grabbed the wolf's shoulder and began to tug him further into the trees. "I missed." She lied, her senses on alert.

The tower shouldn't have gone up. Not unless the other sniper had been rigged up to explosives.

Something was wrong.
...***..."Miss. Miss?” Dr. Selvig offered softly, his hand held out towards her in the manner of calming a spooked animal. “Miss, are you going to be alright?”“Lets put the bodies in the room.” Ollie sighed, one hand coming down roughly over her face. “Lets just put the bodies in the other room.”Before she could protest, the older gentleman curled a hand around her elbow, the lines between his eyes softening as he pulled her towards the kitchen table. “While the men are doing that, how about you tell me what’s going on?”It wasn’t hard to see that the doctor wanted to distract her, but Ollie didn’t fight it. She was no use to anyone panicking.“I didn’t get the privilege of receiving your name before Tobias dropped.” Dr. Selvig prompted her, his hand still on her arm as they settled into the chairs. “And after that it became a little chaotic.”He had a nice smile, Ollie noticed absently, her gaze slipping away to watch Clint and Loki drag a body into the spider room. She should be helping. She shouldn’t be sitting there, idle. Tensing, Ollie leaned forward to stand up and the fingers on her arm tightened, forcing her to stay on the chair. Turning, Ollie was forced to look at the graying scientist. His shoulders were tense, but his face was open, the smile on his cheeks wobbling too much for him to be faking interest. Closing her eyes, Ollie was forced to concede that she couldn’t help the other men, not now. But this, this she could do.“Olivia, or Ollie. 214781 if you’re snapping out orders.” She joked weakly as she settled back into her chair, a smile that seemed far too grim settling onto her face.Dr. Selvig’s gaze fell to her arm and something in his gaze darkened. Slowly, his fingers migrated to cover the tattoo on her arm. “Olivia.” He repeated; his hand warm on her arm.Slowly, as to not offend, Ollie tugged her arm back to her stomach, suddenly grateful that Loki had given her his cardigan. This felt too much like sitting down in front of her father for her own comfort.“So, where are we, Olivia?”“In my head.” Was the knee-jerk response, her finger flicking upwards to point at the ceiling when Dr. Selvig’s shot her a confused look. “I have absolutely no idea how, but you all strolled through my shields like they were nothing.”Dr. Selvig appeared to take this in for a moment before he shook his head. "And, where are you?”Ollie shrugged, her hands spreading out to show her confusion at the question. “In my head.”“And, where,” Dr Selvig said with a glare, his expression screaming that he was begging for patience, “is your head?”Ollie blinked before she shrugged again. “Somewhere on earth, in ice?” For a moment the two of them simply stared at each other before Ollie threw her hands up in the air. “Look, I don’t know where I am. I could guess that I’m in ice somewhere in Europe, but I could also be in the states for all I know. The last clear thing I remember is taking a pot shot at some redhead.” In the background, Clint choked, and without looking, Ollie flipped him off.“Alright,” Dr. Selvig heaved in a deep breath, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let’s stick with what we do know.”“I know that you guys being here is impossible. This is my head, in my corporal body, and I’m not built to take this kind of thing. So, either, I’ve finally lost it, which explains a lot when I think about it. Or, Tessie decided to play us all and let us talk.” Ollie was going to blame the lack of interaction with other people for her rusty conversation skills.“Tessie?” Now, Dr. Selvig just looked lost.“The tesseract.” Loki offered helpfully as he hauled another body over his shoulder.“Ah.” Dr. Selvig shook his head, looking no more convinced that this wasn’t some hallucination as he was five minutes prior. “And, my dear, why would the tesseract pick you up? I don’t recognize you from SHEILD.”Ollie brightened, jerking to sit straight up in her seat. “Oh, that’s easy. I got close to it during the war a couple times.”“The war?”Ollie was getting real sick of these questions.“Yeah, she’s a relic from World War Two, doc.” Clint offered as he dropped into another seat, his nose wrinkling as Loki dropped into the seat beside him. Thankfully, he didn’t comment but Ollie had a feeling it was only a matter of time. “Dr. Selvig, meet Ollie Bakker, the Geist.”The good doctor, Ollie noted with some glee, looked positively scandalized at how Clint was perched on his chair, both hands dropped loosely over his knees. Clint must have seen the same thing, because he shot her a wink before he continued. “Anyway, as I was trying to say before we got so rudely interrupted earlier,” here he shot a disgruntled look towards Loki, “doors swing both ways right?”*The apartment fell into a soft silence as Clint looked up at the survivors of the attack. “If the tesseract was a doorway, why couldn’t we be rerouted into another mind-space?”Loki’s hand slipped onto the table as he stared at Clint in a rough version of what Ollie would have called awe on anyone else. “And if you combine the staff…”Clint caught the sentence before Ollie could react to the words. “And what was in the staff?”Loki smiled weakly, his head shaking silently. “Not something I’d mention while we sit under the watchful eye of…” he flicked a finger towards the ceiling, staying still until everyone nodded in understanding.For a moment, it seemed as if Clint was going to argue, just for the hell of it, before he sighed and shook his head, one hand coming up to rub at his wrist. “So. Doors. Swing both ways.” He looked around for a moment, his shoulders slumping before he pointed to Ollie’s front door. “Who says we can’t just, ya’ know, leave?”“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ollie blurted before she could help herself. “Who would ever leave by the front door?” everyone swung around to look at her and it took everything Ollie had not to roll her eyes. “Why don’t you leave through the window like sensible folk?”“Is this normal?” Loki eventually managed, his gaze flicking between Clint and Dr. Selvig.“No.” Clint drawled, a smirk crawling its way across his face. “No, I’m willing to bet this is an Ollie thing.” Pale blue eyes met hers, and Clint pointed towards Ollie’s bed. “Is that the window?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The one thing Bucky hadn't quite gotten the grasp of until they had been walking the corridors of the helicarrier was the sheer size of the plane. Considering the biggest plane he had been on was Shmidt's and he hadn't exactly had time to look around when he had been on it, Bucky thought he was allowed to be overwhelmed by the size. He probably would have spent more time running around the plane like a giddy little schoolboy ecept Natasha had kept a firm eye on them as they walked into the interior of the helicarrier and his blood was still boiling at the secrets the girl had tossed in his face.It was almost a relief then, when the firebrand had handed them off to a starry-eyed agent, except there was the tiny problem that the girl spent so much time looking at Steve in utter awe, that Natasha had actually growled at them to keep moving as she stalked off down another hallway. But, the one thing the agent had going for her, Bucky thought as he eyed the tiny thing Natasha handed them off too, was that she wasn’t Private Lorraine.That being said, it wasn’t much of a compliment. Lorraine had been an airhead and far too infatuated by Steve for her own safety. Realistically, Bucky knew the woman’s admiration grew from the fact Steve was CAPTAIN AMERICA and that he wasn’t dead, but that didn't mean that Bucky had to like it. Part of him was horrified at the woman's reaction.What would it have been like, had their return been public?Another part of Bucky was snickering at the thought that Steve was still remembered for his stupid stunts. What would people think if they knew Steve had dropped his shield on his toes more times then anyone could count?“I’m dreadfully sorry. None of us knew about…” The agent trailed off, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she stared between Steve and the door, somehow ignoring Bucky completely.“Its alright doll, no one knew.” Steve tried to sooth her, but Bucky could see the way his hands were trembling at his sides.Rolling his eyes, Bucky absently shot a look to the roof. God, if Ollie could see them now. Bucky’s charms had failed only minutes prior and Steve still couldn’t manage to talk to women without tripping over his own words and suffering from over politeness. It was a good thing they were married, or Bucky would have been worried. As it was, Bucky rather thought the situation was rather sweet but pathetic.Slowly, the agent nodded as she turned and slipped into the room. “Again. I’m really sorry, but the only room we have is this one.”Bemused, Bucky gave the agent a slow wink as he sauntered into the room. From how the agent had been fretting during the entire walk, Bucky had been expecting the room to be the engine compartment or a holding cell. Instead, there was a bunk in the corner and enough room to walk get changed beside it. Blinking, Bucky exchanged a look with Steve. All in all, there really wasn’t much of a problem. It wasn’t a bed of rocks and it wasn’t like he and Steve didn’t fall asleep tangled together. Besides, with how Bucky had been sleeping recently, it wasn’t as if both of them would be passed out on the bunk together.Steve would probably end up draped over his legs as Bucky stared at the door, if he was being honest.“I’m sorry there’s only one bed.”The sentence dragged him back to reality and thwacked him upside the head at the same time. Ah, yes. One bed, two men. Now, Bucky could see the problem.Was it any wonder Ollie had despaired over the two of them for half their lives?“Its alright ma’am, we had worse during the war.” Steve offered with a stage smile.At that, Bucky had to snort. Sleeping in the bombed-out ruins of a church while Ollie climbed his way up the bell tower, had to be one of the worst places they had ever slept. At least here they had a door and a working light switch. Bucky smirked at the memory even as he dropped the duffle bag onto the bed with a huff. Not being shot at was another perk. Turning around, Bucky was just about to make another witty comment when his train of thought derailed and crashed.Had the duffle bag just twitched?Concerned, Bucky reached a hand out to the bag only to pause.“Bucky?”Bucky jumped, his hand jolting away from the bag as if the fabric had burned him. In the doorway, Steve and the agent were staring at him with some concern. Turning back to the bag, Bucky stayed silent for another heartbeat. Surely Peggy wouldn’t pack anything too dangerous for them to find.Stepping away from the bed, Bucky resolved to put the duffel bag problem into the back of his mind. “I’m good.” Shooting the agent a smile, Bucky motioned to the hallway with a sweeping gesture. “I believe we have a date with the bridge?”The agent giggled. Steve looked charmed.…***…The moment they stepped onto the bridge; Bucky took back every single degrading comment he had made about the future. The technology was amazing. Back during the war, he and Ollie had regularly crawled through Stark's workroom every time they had leave, happily playing test subject for whatever new technology Howard had cooked up on his restless nights. Most days, Ollie would end up tinkering with his bike, the three of them adding nasty little surprises to the little motorcycle. However, on occasion, Howard and Bucky would stand back and watch as Ollie cooed over one device or another, his clever fingers poking into wires even as he grilled Howard for explanations. On those days, Bucky would watch as Ollie would flip through paper upon paper of equations, occasionally marking up the margins. It was always amusing to hear Howard squeak when Ollie proved his math wrong.Since Bucky and Steve had woken up from the ice, the sheer intake of information Bucky had to do daily was enough to make him happy Howard hadn’t graced them with his presence yet. Peggy’s kind patience and Steve’s utter frustration was about all he could handle. The one time Bucky had asked where Howard was, it was Sousa that answered ‘he’s with Tony' and Bucky hadn’t asked since.Yet, the bridge. Oh God, the bridge. Bucky could now die happy. His fingers twitched at his sides as he took in the flashing lights, low murmurs, and the general bustle of the crewmen. He had thought Shmidt’s plane was the most technologically advanced thing he would ever see before he died. And then Peggy pulled dirt a phone, and now, now he was staring at a scene he couldn’t have imagined even growing up reading the adventures of Buck Rogers or H. G. Wells. Turning on the spot, Bucky did his best to take in the entire scene in one go.It didn’t work.“Oh God.” Bucky gasped in amazement, if the rest of the ship was anything like this, then he would  happily ignore the fact they were how many thousands of feet in the air.He had to get close to the screens, Bucky realized as he inched forward, his fingers still twitching. He had to see what data was flashing through the ship, he wouldn’t sleep until he had.God, if they had had this back in the war.Before he had a chance to bolt forward for a better vantage point, Steve threw an arm out and caught him by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare.” He hissed softly, his stage smile still on his face for anyone who was curious about their movements.Glowering, Bucky crossed his arms. He wasn’t a camp dog or an errant child that needed minding. That was Steve. Of the two of them, it was Steve that would be causing the most problems, not him. “I should be saying that to you, Mr. Trip-over-the-radar-and-land-us-in-the-ocean.” For a moment  Steve looked chastened until Bucky smiled. Steve was never going to live that down.In front of them, a young woman jerked around on the catwalk, her mask of professionalism slipping as she blinked at the sight Steve and Bucky made in the doorway. Shamelessly, he and Steve both waved in sync. The woman blinked harder. “I thought you were joking, sir.” She stated flatly as she turned in a measured motion to study Fury.“Never Agent Hill. Never.”Even from behind the man, Bucky could hear the amusement in Fury's voice, but it was more the way Hill huffed at the man that had Steve and Bucky chuckling. From the lack of reactions from anyone else on the bridge, the playful conversations between Fury and Hill seemed to be rather common place, which made Bucky chuckle even further.In the end, it was only because Steve wacked him on the back that Bucky realized the bridge had fallen silent. Blinking, Bucky shot Steve a look, half wondering if his laughter had been louder then he had thought. But, Steve shook his head slightly and gestured to the newest figure in the room.Dr. Banner.Arching a brow, Bucky took a discrete glance around the bridge. Earlier, he had noted the blinking lights and the sheer abundance of sensory data, now he realized that parts of the crew looked out of place. Licking his lips, Bucky leaned over to Steve, his voice light. “There’s a lot of guards for this to be a ‘secure' location.”Beside him, Steve hummed in agreement, a false smile plastering itself to his face when a young woman turned and gave them a searching look. Leaning in front of Steve slightly, Bucky winked at the little lady, smirking when she looked away with a blush. Beside him, Steve scowled, the smile dropping as the guards shifted to keep Banner in their view. Turning, Steve crossed his arms and looked out over the bridge, his voice low. “Stay on him.” He didn’t look around as his smile dropped somewhat. “I have a feeling we bit off more then we could chew.”Turning, Bucky watched as Banner gave a nervous glance to the closet set of guards, his hands fiddling with the cuffs of his worn down jacket. Graining, Bucky rolled his eyes towards the sky, so much for discretion about the entire situation. Following his gaze, Steve swore softly before stepping towards Fury, the ‘Captain America' persona taking over between one step and the next. The sudden movement made several of the guards tense and focus in on Steve, allowing Bucky to slide up beside Banner unnoticed.But, before Bucky could give any form of warning, the good doctor gave him a smile. “Twitchy fellows, aren't they?”Bucky had to smother a grin at the sarcastic drawl. Behind them, he could hear Agent Hill saying something about the plane leveling out and the one part of his mind that wasn’t occupied by the awe of the bridge, the concern about the doctor, Bucky could admit that he was impressed by SHIELDs competence. He hadn’t even felt the plane level out or any of the adjustments that had been made.“Let’s vanish.”*If it wasn’t for the fact Bucky had been working on keeping himself here and in the present, he would have hit deck at the phrase. When he and Ollie had gone off into the words for a mark, Ollie had used that exact command after the kill shot had made contact. As it was, Bucky still tensed and absently stepping in front of Banner, forcing himself to give the doctor a tense smile when the man made a noise of protest.Once again, the guards twitched and Steve rolled his eyes as he paced over to the window, glancing out with a not-so-faked expression of glee. “Gosh darn-it.” He breathed.Bucky choked. Since when had punk ass Steve ever censored himself if it wasn’t in front of the generals or other charming people of interest. Still, the phrase did what it was probably intended for because Bucky smirked as he stared down at the floor.“Don’t get fucking cocky Rogers.” Bucky said under his breath, his smirk widening as Banner snorted in amusement behind him.Now that the tension had somewhat vanished from the bridge, Bucky pushed his way over to Fury, his wallet in one hand. Bucky didn’t run from debts and he had learned the hard way not to bet anything he couldn’t live without. Back at the VA, Fury had bet him that he could still be surprised by the future, Bucky figured his unrestrained awe about the bridge counted in that bet.Holding up ten dollars, Bucky kept his gaze fixed pointedly on Steve. He may always pay up, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “I’ll earn that back soon.”Thankfully, Fury didn’t comment other then to give him a strained smile as the bill disappeared into the folds of his jacket.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

July 1999, West Virginia, Culver University.

“Dr. Banner!” The voice cut through the silent hallway and Bruce found himself stumbling to a stop before he could process his own name. The only other person he had ever known who was able to put that much command into one word was General Ross, Betty’s father.Turning, Bruce was surprised to see a student jogging down the hall, one hand waving above his head. The boy was wearing a bulky Culver University sweater and oddly enough, had one hand bundled up in a sling. Slowing to a halt, Bruce waited for the boy to catch up to him, noting warily when the boy got closer, that he had a scar pulling down from the corner of his right temple to just under his right eye and a bruise was marring his other cheek. Bruce new that sometimes the boys would take matters into their own hands over certain situations, and the fights were always brutal and hidden somewhere just off campus.Bruce had seen the results of those pissing contests far too often in his labs and lectures for the boy's appearance to be surprising.The boy gave him a grin and offered his left hand. “I’m glad I caught you, Dr Banner.”Bruce took it warily, eyeing the boy’s clothing with some reservations. There was something to be said about the clumsiness of students and the overall culture of a university, but Bruce rather thought the boy was pushing it a little. But then, Bruce cast an eye over his own clothing and thought that he didn’t have any way to judge, as he didn’t exactly look like a researcher or a doctor. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr...?” Bruce murmured, drawing a back a little at the over the top enthusiasm the boy seemed to exude.The boy blinked and frowned, before he looked down at his clothing for a moment with a quiet chuckle. “Oliver Bakker. I’m with the psychology department.” He grinned as he looked up, his hand running through his hair with a wince. “My friends call me Geist.”Bruce stared at the boy for another moment, before it dawned on him what this was about.An internship.Ever since he had gotten the grant from General Ross, students had been applying for internships right, left, and center. There was hardly enough money for the project, let along another worker. Bruce couldn’t take the kid on, no matter his sob story. “Look kid,” he began, “You’re not even the right department…”Oliver blinked and shook his head, suddenly shooting a look down the hall with a slightly panicked expression. Following his gaze, Bruce was about to ask if the boy was alright, when Oliver shook his head again and turned back towards him with another grin. “I’m not here for the internship Dr Banner,” reaching into his pocket, the boy pulled out a slip of paper and checked it over with a quick nod. “I work for a particular agency and we deal with, unusual problems.” He paused for a moment, holding out the paper with an encouraging expression. “Should you ever find that your green demons become too difficult to handle, call my agency and read them the note on the paper. They’ll help you.”This was the first time Bruce had ever been recruited by a child, but he took the paper anyway. One never knew when money would run out, and he had lived paycheck to paycheck for far too long to ever look a gifted horse in the mouth, no matter how odd that horse seemed.The moment the paper was in his hand, Olivier gave him another nod and turned on his heel, jogging towards the exit a little quicker then Bruce expected. Shrugging, Bruce tucked the paper into his pocket and began to walk towards his lab, resolving to forget about the encounter as quickly as possible.…***…“Dr Banner?”Bruce leaned back from the papers he had been pouring over and reached back to rub at his neck as Mr. Gill, the ancient security guard, leaned into the lab. “What’s going on?” Bruce asked, thankful for the break.For a moment, Gill looked near panicked. “You didn’t see anyone when you came in, did you?”Completely forgetting about the boy, he had seen only a few hours before, Bruce shook his head and shrugged. “Past nine at night, there’s no one here but me, Gill. You know that.”“Oh good.” Gill breathed, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead. “There were some military types, not Ross’ people,” he was quick to explain, “asking if a girl had been hanging around campus. Apparently, she’s in breach of her contract and she’s to face a tribunal.”Not willing to get further involved with the military, Bruce leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he sat on the edge of the desk. “Just me, Gill. Its just me.”…***…The academic board was full of idiots. Each of men who made up the board were cowards and bastards. Months, years, of research, verified by men better then the board, and he was to scrap the entire project before it even reached the testing stage?It couldn’t have been a problem about money, Bruce snarled to himself as he threw his notes down onto his desk in the lab. The US army had been willing to continue funding both the project and the school as long as Bruce had been approved. And, his math was sound. He had verified everything again and again, going as far as to have Ross pull files from Project Rebirth to help keep Bruce on track.Slumping down into his chair, Bruce’s mood didn’t even budge when Betty slung her arms around his shoulders and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “They turned you down?” she whispered into his ear, her fingers just brushing over his disorganized notes.Bruce let his head fall back onto her shoulder and he raised a hand to tug gently on her loose ponytail, Betty's voice doing more to calm him then the entire hike back to the lab had managed to do. “Yeah.” He sighed as he turned his head towards hers, catching the corner of her mouth with a kiss of his own.“What are you going to do?” The question was a slow whisper and Bruce grit his teeth at the devastation in her voice.Her father wasn’t fond of their relationship and Bruce wasn’t sure the General wasn’t going to do his best to haul Betty away from Culver when he found out what had happened with the board.But his math was sound. Everything was perfect.They just needed a test subject.He just had to prove that the super soldier serum could be recreated.He just had to prove…His gaze landed on his own arm and he turned his head to look back at Betty. He needed a test subject, and Ross wouldn’t terminate his position after the testing if Bruce was a vital part of the project.The General couldn’t get rid of Bruce if Bruce was the newest super soldier.He could stay with Betty.Catching Betty’s hand, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles and nodded to the lab with a crooked grin. “I’m going to do something stupid, would you like to help me?”The smile that appeared on Betty’s face lit up the room like the sun. “There’s my brilliant doctor.” She crowed as she pulled away from him and walked out into the lab, “What do you need?”God how he loved this woman.…***…Smiling at Betty, Bruce took the syringe from her hands and, after verifying everything one last time, nodded at her to step back as he injected the serum.It wasn’t like anything could go wrong.…***…In retrospect, Bruce thought as he turned over his hand and watched the green tinged flesh ripple, maybe his math wasn’t as sound as he had assumed.He had injected the serum into his blood yesterday and all he remembered was a vague scream. Part of him wondered if the bloodcurdling sound had dropped from his mouth, or from Betty's. A bigger part of him never wanted to find out. But, casting his mind back to the night before, Bruce knew there was certainly an explosion, and only god knew what else had happened after...And Betty…The explosion was plastered all over the papers. Bruce could hardly walk more then ten feet in town without the accusation glaring at him from a rumbled front page. Some of the more sensational rags had his own face plastered across the front and while it was the dream of every researcher to become famous (if only because of easy funding) this certainly wasn't the way any one wanted to have their name remembered. The army had swarmed the campus and Bruce could only thank whatever higher power that was stalking his footsteps that, General Ross had yet to be seen stalking the streets.A low riding baseball cap was not going to be enough to hide him from Betty's father, not while he was on a warpath.At the moment, the only thing Bruce did have going for him was that Betty was alive. There wasn’t even a scratch on her. The green tinge to his skin proved that his math was faulty but Bruce could have sworn that Betty was at the center of the blast that had leveled the lab and half the campus. Betty should have been dead.Hell, Bruce should have been dead.The low rumble that curled down his spine and settled into a sense of alien satisfaction made Bruce shiver. There was something wrong with him, aside from the greenish skin and the impossible feat of breathing after walking away from a building that had been leveled.The satisfaction he felt, the rumble of a chuckle that echoed down his spine and curled around his throat?That wasn't his.The numbness in his limbs, the way the seconds of the clock seemed to drag and then leap forward, how his memories seemed to blur between one step and finding himself in a coffee shop? That was his. Bruce was detached enough (in shock enough) to know he wasn't well. He was losing time. He was gaining time. He was...He was...Bruce was going to be sick.Bruce clamped one hand over his mouth as he forced down the bile.<calm> Peace tinged with an edge of frustration, similar to when Bruce zoned reading term papers by nineteen year old bullshitters who hadn't read the material, washed over him, nearly drowning Bruce.<apologetic, calm, curious>Oh yeah, that wasn't him, Bruce realized as he hugged the wall of the alley, his eyes wide. All Bruce was feeling was terror, a pit of absolute terror crawling up from the depths of his soul. Oh god.Oh dear lord, Bruce was going crazy.No.No. He wasn't going crazy. He was Doctor Bruce Banner.<curious>There was something poking at his brain. There was something inside his head, clawing at his emotions. Suddenly, Bruce could sympathize with the lab rats he had poked and prodded over the past several years. If this was how they felt, no wonder some of the newer interns refused to work alongside the lab animals.But, what if he was going crazy?What if he was...Bruce could barely finish the thought, his jaw clenching as the echo of his father's taunts snaked through his ears. Useless little son of a bitch, you're going to go crazy, just like your grandfather... Little Bruce, going to get locked up for knowing too much and losing all your marbles.Oh dear god, his father was...<rage>The emotion was a slap to the face, reminiscent of broken bottles and bellows echoing off dented walls and bruised cheeks. For years Bruce had buried his temper, fought down the frustration and the rage his father had worn like a crown. He thought he had won. Bruce thought the overwhelming anger that made his hands shake and his ears ring had been tempered by years of academia and maturity.<frustration>Apparently it hadn't been.Apparently the rage hadn't gone away.No, it had taken on a life of its own.The phantom pain of bruises stung his collarbone and knuckles and for a split second, Bruce could have sworn when he opened his eyes, Betty was staring at him in fear, her gaze locked on his hands, a bruise spreading across her face.<shame>Bile was burning the back of his throat.Patterns.Bruce grabbed onto the idea desperately. He was a scientist. He was the renowned Dr. Bruce Banner. He was known for noticing things no one else could. Slowly, Bruce heaved in a breath, his jaw still firmly clamped shut. This was just another experiment. All he needed to do was note the problems and the symptoms. What were the variables? What were the constants? If the emotions weren't his, where were they coming from? What was causing them?And most importantly, could Bruce prove any of his findings?He needed a baseline.Scrubbing at his face, Bruce pushed himself away from the wall and forced himself to push the emotions and everything else to the back of his mind. According to the papers, Bruce himself was currently ‘missing’ and wanted for questioning.Bruce’s skin rippled again.There was no way in hell, he was going into the belly of the beast. There were rumours, things he had heard from drunk students and worried workers, that there was a green monster stalking the campus. At the moment, Bruce was positive he was the only one who had green tinted skin and a slight ‘nervous condition’.He had heard horror stories about so-called mutants and how the military dealt with them. Bruce wasn’t overly interested in finding out how the term ‘mutant’ corresponded with him. Hence, he was keeping his head down and staying as far away from Ross as he could.But Betty… Bruce swallowed down his discomfort and pushed himself into the coffee shop he had been circling for the past hour or so, stumbling into a seat and signaling for a coffee as he put his head in his hands.Ross wouldn’t hurt his own daughter, would he?Had Bruce changed her too?Was she like him?Green?<curious>Bruce nearly snorted into his coffee as a small group of students wandered by, someone mentioning off hand that I told Mike not to play with the Ouija board. Now we’ve got a damned demon running around.
<amusement>
Well, that certainly wasn’t an answer Bruce would have expected. Then again, it wasn’t often someone turned into a hulking monster tinged green and tore apart your school either.He was going to have to apologize to the board, wasn’t he?Grimacing, Bruce drained the rest of his coffee and stood up with a groan, rummaging through his pockets for change to cover the coffee. He was damn lucky he had the bad habit of never emptying out his pockets and that the habit of keeping a ‘go-bag’ from his childhood.Although, why he ever thought a pair of blue jeans and a deep purple shirt was eligible for a go-bag, he would never know. Giving up, Bruce eventually dumped the contents of his pockets out onto the table. The result of his search made him frown. One crumpled up dollar bill, a handful of nickels, lint, and…
They deal in unusual problems.
Pausing, Bruce stared at the paper with a phone number scrawled in black ink across the front before he gave a soft chuckle. Unusual problems. There really wasn't going to be anything more unusual then this, and really, what did he have left to lose?<fear>Ross would kill him or chain him up for the military and there really wasn't anywhere safe for someone like him to go, not anymore.Gathering his courage, Bruce left enough change to cover the coffee before he stumbled out to the payphone outside of the coffee shop. Gathering his courage, Bruce called the number and waited, turning over the card with trembling fingers."Bakker Residence, how can I help you?"The voice was young and Bruce almost hung up. Surely this agency wasn't hiring children?Grasping the paper tighter, Bruce read off the message on the back. "X Track 6370, West Virginia, Culver University." He tried to make it sound as the statement wasn't a question.There was a pause, and then..."One moment please," the voice became quieter towards the end, as if the child was pulling the phone away from his mouth. "DAD, WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM!"Bruce cracked a smile at the shout. A problem was a bit of an understatement. There was a rustle on the other end of the line and then silence, before..."Are you safe?" This voice was commanding, making Bruce's spine straighten in a way Ross' presence had not."Define safe.” Bruce asked warily as he curled around the phone, a police cruiser coasting a little too close for comfort. He had long since learned that sometimes it was better to be cautious then assume it wasn’t him the police were combing the streets for."Do you have access to a hide out, food, and water for the next twenty-four hours?" The new voice interrupted his thoughts almost gently.For a moment, Bruce gaped at the response. He hadn't meant a literal definition, but then he thought about the question. Did he have access to a haven? Did he have access to food? His hands began to tremble as the realization that he was essentially homeless blindsided him.What was he going to do?<frustration>“Sir? Sir. I need you breathe with me.” The man on the phone commanded and Bruce sucked in a shaking breath.“What do I do?” Bruce asked shakily, his grasp on the phone becoming painfully tight.“You’re at Culver University, right?” The voice didn’t wait for him to answer, even though Bruce was nodding dumbly in response, the confirmation stuck in his throat. “Then you’re in luck. Campus is the best place to hide. Keep your head down, go to the library and see if you can hide out in the study rooms or in the archives. The school food bank should be pretty easy to access and if not, there will at least be running water and a bathroom.”That actually sounded pretty reasonable, Bruce thought as he finally managed to loosen his grip on the phone. “You sound like you do this a lot.” The statement slipped out before he could think it through.There was a short bark of laughter in response. “Sir, this is my job. Someone will be at the school library for you, tomorrow noon, Dr. Banner. Good luck.”As the phone went silent, Bruce could think that not once had he said his name.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Typically,” Julian said as he fiddled with the radio on the dash, the sudden onslaught of static making Bruce wince, “You would be sent to the nearest outpost and then flown to wherever we thought your hunters weren’t. However, there’s a couple slight problems with that, in your case.”Julian Bakker was in his mid-sixties and with the knitted sweater and thick glasses, he didn’t look too out of place as an errant professor tottering around the campus. Bruce certainly wouldn’t have pegged him as a smuggler and certainly not as a human trafficker. But, as Bruce reminded himself with a slight grumble, he didn’t have any room to complain. Julian had appeared between the stacks of the library and escorted Bruce out the door with nary a word or explanation. From there, leaving town was easy but as Julian had been muttering for the past several miles, the destination wasn’t as convenient.“You, boy,” it was hard not to shrink under the unimpressed glare, “tangled with the military, are a late bloomer in the mutant gene, and” Julian paused, his face screwing up in a way that made Bruce realize this last bit was going to be the worst sin of all, “piqued the interest of a Canadian outpost.” With a slight grumble, Julian turned off the radio and let the noise of the tires eat away the miles. “If you were younger, we'd change your name and set you up with a new family, but since you're not and you tangled with the spooks and suits it’s a little more difficult. Ideally, we'd extradite you to Cuba or some other country that America won't search, but my cousins already placed claim on you.”That, more then anything else, had Bruce's head spinning. “Your cousins did what?” he questioned, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty.
<terror>
Julian shot him a look of annoyance. “The code you used has only ever been sent out by one person. An American spy from world war two.”Confusion washed over Bruce in a wave and even as he began to speak, he was shaking his head in denial. “I spoke to a kid.”
<confusion, wonder, apprehension>
Bruce shrugged away the emotion that flooded through his veins even as he realized that he definitely wasn’t going to forget the beat up and sleep deprived boy who had flagged him down in the middle of the school hallway. Not with the amount of bruising that ensured Bruce had implanted the boy's face into his memories for good.Julian's hands flexed on the steering wheel. “That's why my cousin wants to speak to you. Our reports said the American was KIA.”In the silence that came after this statement, Julian shot him another look, this time tinged with exasperation instead of frustration. Meanwhile, Bruce’s heart skipped a beat as Julian's musing caused his thoughts to race out of control. For all intents and purposes, Bruce had entrusted his life to an agency that was starting to sound more like an underground railway that thought itself above law and reproach.
<terror>
With the way his luck had been going, Bruce had just sold himself into slavery.“It's not like we're going to keep you like a pet. When I said my cousins staked a claim, I meant that he has ensured your protection.” Julian suddenly tossed out, his eyes rolling towards the heavens. “Jake will be happy with a phone call, but he would prefer his land be your extraction point if you’re to go outside of North America.”Bruce released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. If. That meant he had options. Bruce had options.Everything was going to be fine.
<contentment>
Well, at least someone agreed with him, even if it was himself. Maybe. This was making his head hurt.“What do I owe you for doing this?” Bruce hadn’t made it through three PhDs without learning the value of debts and favors. Everything might turn out alright but that didn’t mean that he was going to walk away debt free.The smile Julian flashed him, reminded Bruce of a snake. “The family line is that you owe us nothing.”Bruce’s eyes narrowed as he caught the hesitation on the final word. “But…” he prompted.“Teach.” The answer threw him for a loop even as Julian flashed him another smile. “We've got some kids that can’t go to school for one reason or another.” Something like pity flashed through the older man's eyes and Bruce braced himself for whatever was coming next. “Besides, you probably don’t want to go in public for a while. Aside from teaching, we could set you up as a farm hand. There are other options if you don’t want to deal with children.”For a moment, Bruce could only blink. That was, that was pretty fair.<confusion>But still, even as it dawned on the doctor what the older man meant; Bruce was already imagining it. Children, outcasts, people like him. People whose skin rippled, and their eyes flashed. Intellectually he knew that those children weren’t going to be like him, a monster, but the realization that he wasn’t alone, there were others like him, made the boulder in his stomach crumble into dust.Beside him, Julian grinned. “What, did you think you were alone?”…***…It was at some point between yawns and a sip of boiling hot coffee that Bruce finally dragged up the courage to ask what had been bugging him since Julian had fist hauled him out of the library. “How the hell did your cousin know my name?” Bruce asked, his hands curling around the Styrofoam cup even as his eyes continued to droop.God, it had been years since he had to pull two all-nighters in a row. Betty would never let him live this down. Ever.Beside him, Julian gave a light chuckle, the old man somehow continuing to putter along without any stimulants or caffeine. “Doctor, for someone who is considered a genius, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.” At the slightly growl that slipped out between Bruce’s teeth, Julian shook his head and fixed him with a slight glare. “Your face is plastered all over the news and it doesn’t take much to recognize a voice, even over the phone.”Oh.Bruce dragged a hand down his face, his cheeks heating up with blooming embarrassment.“Eh, don’t feel too bad. If it weren’t for the fact Jake’s married with three kids, I’d almost think he was going to try and chase after you himself. That clan always did like the smart ones.”Yeah, Bruce was not awake enough for this.…***…Getting out of the states seemed far too easy to Bruce's paranoid mind. Every day, Julian would coast into a parking lot along some road just on the outskirts of a town, pull up beside some abandoned car, pop the hood, grab the keys, and switch their things to the new vehicle. Then at 2am, Julian would pull over and pass out for five hours, after he woke up, he and Bruce would go for a walk, return to the car, and drive until they needed the bathroom or the gas tank ran out, which ever came first.When they finally reached Buffalo, NY, Julian drove them towards Lake Erie, a half smile plastered across his face. Cooped up in a car with the man for days on end had taught Bruce to be weary of that smile. Long hours as a professor had taught Bruce to be terrified by that accompanying chuckle.Sheer exhaustion and anxiety made him throw those instincts out the window.“Do I want to know?” Bruce asked irritably.Julian’s smile only grew.…***…Sunset Bay in Wainfleet Ontario was accurately named, Bruce thought as he snagged a towel from a giggling ten-year-old girl. The sun seemed to hover over the horizon and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore lulled Bruce into a quiet peace.Julian had been left behind in the states, recalled to another station to help another fleeing special. Bruce couldn’t thank him enough and he didn’t think he'd ever forget the old man. Still, the trip from Buffalo to Wainfleet had been easy, a quick trip from cottage to cottage via a small boat. Papers had been provided for him, the lie that he was Uncle Bailey Banner rolling from the tongue of a five-year-old far too easily. The Baker’s Special hadn’t been stopped or questioned by the harbour master and immigration hadn’t even given him a second glance.Bailey Bruce Banner-Bakker, a professor of Biology and a born Canadian citizen, was left alone even as his skin rippled green and his voice dove into a deep rumble.“Uncle Banner?” a small voice broke into his thoughts, the girl who had handed him the towel was staring up at him with wide eyes.Pulling the towel away from his still damp hair, Bruce smiled at the child. “Yes?”The girl blinked up at him, her small cheeks ruddy. “Opa Henry is here to talk to you with Uncle Jake.”The butterflies in his stomach suddenly seemed to be made of steel and rock as his anxiety pricked along his skin. Looking past the girl, Bruce caught sight of two men, one older and leaning on a cane, the other younger, his broad shoulders curled as he rocked what looked to be a baby in his arms. The older man, Henry, jerked his head to the side as he walked up, the little girl gulping loudly as she scampered away. Absently, Bruce nodded, the message was received loud and clear. This was no conversation for young ears.“You called in a X Track 6370?" Henry asked pleasantly as he sat down at the picnic bench, Jacob leaning beside him, the younger man hardly looking up from his fussing over the sleeping child.Bruce wasn’t fooled. Henry might have been asking, but that wasn’t the spirit of the question. This was an order, given far more politely then Ross had ever done, but no less of an order either way. Reaching into his back pocket, Bruce pulled out the card Oliver had given him and laid it flat on the table. “This,” Bruce said with a gesture, “was given to me by an Oliver Bakker. I assume he was one of yours.”Henry gave him a long look, the silence that dragged between them only broken by the soft gurgling of the baby. This, Bruce realized belatedly, was politics, like the board or the internal spats between labs when he landed the funding. Henry and Jake weren’t here for Bruce, they were here for Oliver.Then, for the first time, Jake looked up and it was as if Bruce was a month in the past, looking at a boy holding a paper in shaking hands. Except, Jake was a brunette and not bruised. Blinking, Bruce looked at the situation with new eyes and the butterflies in his stomach ceased their frantic dance. Gently, Bruce leaned forward, the hard edge to his words all but gone. “How long has your son been missing?”For, what else could Oliver be? Jake was mirror, a reflection of what that extraordinary young man would someday become, Bruce was sure of it.Jake jerked away, his mouth opening slightly even as he grasped the child in his arms closer. “What?”Bruce shook his head with a soft smile. “Oliver was very good at what he did. You should be proud.”Instead of the smirk Bruce had been expecting, Henry gave him a strange look even as he pulled a photograph from his breast pocket, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Humming an odd tune, Henry turned and held up the photo beside Jake, his gaze flicking between the two. “Huh. That's…odd…” he trailed off slowly, his eyes widening with whatever thought he couldn’t voice.Confused and annoyed at being outside the loop, Bruce caught a glance of the photo, his mind racing as he realized it was a picture of Oliver. “You mean to tell me that boy,” Bruce pointed to the photo with a startled gesture, “isn’t your child.”Henry shook his head even as he tucked the photo back into his pocket. “I’m sure Julian told you that an American spy was the only one who ever used that code?”Numb, Bruce nodded, “What does that have to do with me?”Jake and Henry exchanged a look and it was Jake who leaned forward. “We don’t know. My clan owes that boy a debt and right now that means helping you.” A slightly mischievous smile settled onto his face. “If during that time Oliver appears, then that’s a bonus.”For a moment, Bruce was speechless. This family, these people who smuggled bodies over boarders and didn’t ask questions, was taking him on because of a debt? Uneasy, Bruce nervously licked his lips and leaned forward over the table, but before he could object, the baby awoke with a cry. Jake reacted immediately and he bounced the child around with frantic mutters Bruce knew wasn’t in English.Henry simply shook his head. “Excuse my son,” the old man snickered, “this is his first time alone with his princess.”Suddenly, the protective curl made sense.Stiffly, Bruce inclined his head. “Congratulations.”Henry smiled, his gaze soft on his grandchild. “That is my Heir. My first granddaughter, Olivia, named after the family of the boy who reached out to you.”In that moment, Bruce understood that the Bakkers were quiet serious. This family owned someone a debt and Bruce was considered the repayment.Working for the Bakkers suddenly became a daunting prospect.…***…Bruce quickly settled into a routine. The Bakker family, or at least this section, owned about a full block of farmland in the middle of the Niagara Region and primarily did cash crop, hay and straw for the track and recreational farms. Near the center of the Bakker land was a cluster of barns, two of which had been converted into apartments. Here, Bruce was allotted a room.At 8am, Bruce would stumble downstairs, grab a bite to eat from the kitchens, and then stumble over to the ‘shed'. Fifteen children from the ages five to eighteen, were settled into groups, and taught from Ontario Home Schooling packets, computers, and teachers like Bruce. However, it wasn’t until after lunch that Bruce would sit down and teach the kids.Each child was unique and Bruce didn’t mean that in a cute biased sort of fashion. A twelve year old named Jeff had cat eyes and elf ears. He also had a wicked looking scar that curved down and around his throat from behind his ear, and a ‘M' carved into his shoulder. Raja, the sixteen year old, had butterfly wings and fingers that were slightly too long. He'd never fly, not with the scars that wrapped around his back and shoulders, the limited mobility making it difficult for him to move, let alone flutter. Then there was Nadia, the nine year old who would disappear into mist when she became excited.Each child was different, special. And when Bruce's skin rippled and his hands shook, it was little five year old William, who was more cat then human, who would curl up into Bruce's arms and chase the ripples as if they were a toy.Life wasn’t perfect, but it certainly could have been worse.…***…Canada, Bruce learned quickly, was tolerant of mutants to a point. Any one of the children he taught could wander the region without fear, but children could be cruel and school, traditional school, was not an option. Services in town would never be refused to any of the mutants but that didn’t mean prices pr services and products wouldn’t suddenly go up or that the service would be quick.The Bakkers were a haven for mutants and Bruce saw far too many skin and bones children stumble into the Bakker estates.By the time Bruce had been with the Bakkers for six months, he had also become the resident doctor.…***…Olivia Bakker, Bruce learned, was considered the miracle child of the outpost. The first girl born in two generations. She was set to inherit the entire heritage of the estate.Late nights curled around the coffee pot along side the mother of one of his students, who also doubled as his nurse, helped him understand what, exactly the Bakkers were. Hushed whispers and the backwards sign the Bakkers used only on their lands and to each other, explained things even further. The Bakkers, Bruce realized, were matriarchal. Their girls, the true blood girls, were taught to live double lives. One life private where they spun webs of gossip and created networks rival to spy industries, and one of public, where they kept their heads bent and their eyes cast down. The Bakkers promoted spirit and fire but they also taught that the family came first. The girls were expected to be intelligent and cunning, able to destroy egos and thoughts with a word and a smile.The true blood girls were ruthless and their brothers were their soldiers. For, who would ever expect a girl to be the leader of a rebellion faction?The Bakkers were not a new family, Bruce had been told. They had been protecting mutants before they had been given that name. Generation upon generation of Bakkers, spreading out across the globe, saving as many as they could.For, as Bruce had been informed, there was a Baker in every village, and some point the Bakkers had taken that name.Bruce didn’t know why Henry, or Hendrikus depending on the speaker, was the leader when he was quiet obviously Male, but at this point, Bruce was afraid to ask.…***…“I'm bored.” A two-year-old Olivia signed and voiced, her words still a bit slurred together.Bent over the table at the shed, Bruce just about sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Between two of the specials getting a cold that threw their abilities out of whack and having to teach the children, Bruce had his hands full. He was in the middle of drawing up a teaching plan and he simply didn’t have the time to entertain Olivia, no matter how adorable she looked.Crumpling up a piece of paper into a ball, he handed it to the girl and gestured to the garbage bin across the room. “Play basket ball.” He prompted.The girl took the ball from him with a confused expression on her face but she gamely walked to the center of the shed and threw the ball.Turning around, Bruce quickly forgot about the pint sized heir as he flipped through his notes. Until, five minutes later, when he went to grab a piece of paper and he realized his scrap pile was gone. Puzzled, Bruce looked up to see Olivia crumbling up a piece of paper. Opening his mouth to scold the toddler, Bruce paused as he realized the girl was squinting at the pail and nodding before she ducked behind a desk and chucked the ‘ball' over her shoulder into the pail.It was a perfect shot.Bruce's jaw hit the floor.
<pride, terror>
It had to be a fluke.Except, Olivia crumpled another ball, bounced over five feet, stared at the pail, took a step back, and chucked the paper into the pail.Blinking, Bruce forced himself out of his chair and bent down beside the pipsqueak. Glancing between the pail and the child, he handed her another ball, watching how her face lit up as she managed to sink the ball in the middle of the pail, again.It couldn’t be, Bruce thought desperately as the girl giggled. The universe wouldn’t, couldn’t be, that cruel.<frustration>“Olivia,” Bruce asked, his hands grabbing at hers, forcing the child to stand still. “How did you do that?”The look Olivia shot him was so stern Bruce would have collapsed into a fit of laughter if it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation. “I throwed it.”“Threw it. You threw it.” Bruce corrected absently, his fingers tightening on hers slightly. “How did you know it was going to go into the pail?” Olivia shrunk back slightly under his gaze and Bruce was quick to tact on, “You're not in trouble little one, I was just curious. Could you teach me?”Olivia's eyes fluttered as she stated at him, her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. “Play with me?” the earlier wariness buried in the face of a possible playmate.Giggling, the girl gave him another piece of paper and gestured for him to throw it. Frowning, Bruce complied, a slight grin crossing his face as the girl stamped a foot when the ball missed.“Too high.” She insisted“By how much?” Bruce asked, half excepting the girl to shrug.Instead, Olivia considered him for a moment before holding her hands apart by about six inches. “This much.”That, that was not the response Bruce had been expecting, and looking down at the child, dread cured up in the pit of his stomach.Olivia Bakker, heir to the Bakker outpost, was a mutant.…***…It was math, Bruce thought hysterically as a three year old Olivia poked through his notes with a crayon held in one hand. Every couple of pages, she would tilt her head and snarl at the numbers, her red crayon slashing through equations that Bruce new to be wrong.Olivia didn’t know equations instinctively but once variables and other nuisances were explained to her, she toddled through pages upon pages of math as if it were nothing.Her skills in applying that math to the real world hadn’t diminished either.At least with this mutation, they could hide her as a prodigy.And, what, Bruce thought as he held his head in his hands, was he going to tell her parents?…***…Nothing.He was going to tell her parents nothing....***...One moment, Bruce was hauling a boy off Olivia, the little terror having grabbed a fistful of Olivia's hair and yanking even as extended fingernails and canine teeth sank into the six-year-old's skin. The next, he was sitting in the brush out behind the outpost with Olivia making a daisy chain on a tree stump."What... the hell... was that?!" Bruce was not ashamed of the way his voice somehow transferred between squeaky and scratchy every other word, not even as he took in the fact his shirt was ripped to shreds and his pants where barely clinging to his hips, not to mention the fact he had lost his shoes somewhere.<I...sorry?> Bruce stiffened, his hands digging into the dirt as the emotion, the thing, in his head brushed against something, the emotion somehow becoming words. <tiny boy hurt girl> the thing tried to explain, its voice somehow coming across as defensive.Olivia looked up from her daisy chain, her shoulder still sluggishly bleeding. "Hulk was really nice Uncle Banner. He helped me pick flowers. Are you ok?"Bruce blinked, the thing rumbling like a proud cat at the name the girl seemed to drop ever so casually. "What?" In Bruce's defense, it was the most coherent question he could think of at the moment."Leo said that hulking meant really big, and Uncle Banner," the girl winced, her eyes flicking over the doctor, "you're really small, and Hulk's not."<Hulk>Bruce put his head in his hands, this was going to be complicated, he just knew it. Near six years without an incident and managing to ignore the entity in his head, and now it named itself after the ramblings of a little girl?Oh yeah, complicated....***...Leo and Andy Bakker, Olivia’s brothers, raised the poor girl, Bruce realized when the heiress was eight. Jacob Bakker and his wife had taken on most of Henry's tasks and Leo seemed to pick up most of the slack.Considering the boys weren't of Bakker blood, Bruce was impressed how much they seemed to adore their little ‘sister'. But, then came the day Andy woke up screaming from a nightmare, fire pouring out of his skin. Some how, the Bakker boys and Olivia found themselves in Bruce's room as their parents screamed at each other over Andy's destructive power. Leo stood against the door and Andy had his sister curled up on his lap, his entire body shaking as he pleaded with Leo that he hadn't meant it.Bruce could do little more then tuck the boy into his bed when the exhaustion made him drop.Olivia had slept through it all.Hulk hasn't stopped snarling and scratching at the lock in Bruce's mind every time the children flinched. Bruce's memories of his own father was not helping the situation in the slightest.…***…Two weeks later, Andy had been sent to Xavier's Institute in the States. Olivia cried so hard she made herself sick.Hulk came out to play once, Olivia refused to say what happened, but the girl had bounced back rather quickly after that and no once had gotten hurt so....…***…Three days later, Leo announced his intent to study in New York and transfer to the New York outpost.Olivia didn’t speak for a week.Hulk came out to play twice, and this time Bruce figured out what happened within an hour of waking up half naked in the brush again. It just figured, the only other entity that was Olivia's age, was in his head, and apparently, Hulk adored his older sister. Adored her enough that he was willing to sit down and play barbie. How Hulk managed it, Bruce wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to question that. Not with Olivia curled up over his shoulder, asleep, as he marched them back to the house.Bruce wasn't comfortable with Hulk, but maybe, just maybe, he could begin to learn how to live with Hulk rather then constantly fight against him.…***…Two months later, Bruce was approached by Henry, his smiling face unusually solemn. “How would you like a transfer?”For a moment, Bruce couldn’t answer. The patrols around the area had gotten tighter. Just last week, the Bakkers had lost an entire crew to immigration officers. Word had also come down the pipeline that SHIELD was looking for Bruce.If he stayed at this outpost, he would be a sitting duck.As if he could read his thoughts, Henry grinned. “We’re re-branching out to India. They need a doctor to help.”Bruce closed his eyes, something in his gut tightening even as he nodded in agreement. If he left, Olivia would still be able to call him, if he stayed he risked getting everyone, including the little girl, into trouble. The decision wasn't hard."When do I leave?"In his head, Hulk howled in anger....***...There was a little girl holding a fist full of money and had the most desperate expression plastered onto her face as she gestured towards Bruce in near terror. Beside him, Anika Bakker frowned, her head shaking slightly as the the girl pleaded with Bruce with wide eyes. "Don't leave." Anika whispered softly."If there's someone sick like your Uncle, I need to know if it's affecting specials or everyone else." Bruce tried to explain to the terrified heiress. The outpost hadn't been doing well, they had only managed to create one hideaway before the outbreak started. The sickness that had been spreading through the streets had hit the outpost far too quickly, the usual immunity that was afforded to specials doing nothing and confining nearly everyone to their beds. Anika, the only mundane of the clan, had been left alone and Bruce was almost positive the sickness was only affecting specials.Anika closed her eyes for a moment, before she nodded, her lips bloodless as she gestured for Bruce to leave. "Be safe."Bruce just smiled....***...Well, in retrospect, Bruce should have known that his peaceful streak was becoming a little bit too long. In his head, Hulk mumbled an agreement. The spy, Natasha, the one that Henry hated having to dance around when their paths crossed, lowered a gun towards his head as Bruce slammed a hand against the table. Well, it was good to know their information was severely outdated, even if SHIELD had somehow found him. Hulk only ever reacted to stress, terrible temper flares, and puppy dog eyes from Olivia, the annoyance Bruce felt when dealing with Natasha was not any of those things.Outside, Bruce could hear SHIELD agenst shifting in the dirt, probably holding enough firepower to blow this place to kingdom come. Although, if Hulk and Bruce could survive Andy, Bruce had feeling there wasn't enough portable fire power to deal with, well, either pale-skinned Bruce or green-skinned Hulk. Annoy him, yes. Hurt him?No."Give us the signal." Anika whispered into his ear through the bug he had hidden. Leaning down, Bruce looked out through the window, looking past the agents and easily picking out the darker shadow of the few able-bodied Bakker's hidden on far off roofs and silos. The Bakkers had always been very protective."We just need you to help us find the Tesseract." Natasha stated, her hands steady as she lowered the gun.Well, this at the very least would allow Bruce to find out what SHIELD knew about both Bakker plans and Bruce himself. Hell, maybe if this went very well, he could get the damn military off his back for a while.Hope was a dangerous thing.<Olivia?> Hulk murmured, shifting uneasily under his skin as Natasha fiddled with gun.Yes, Bruce thought, maybe they would be in the area to see Olivia too.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Is there a special trick to this?" Clint asked as he examined the window frame, his fingers just brushing the marred wood with reverence.Behind him, Ollie sighed and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time he had asked and Ollie was getting rather annoyed at the question. If one wanted to leave, they simply went through the window. Everyone knew that."Its a window. You just," unsure how to explain it, Ollie just made a quick shoving motion at the propped open glass pane, "jump?"Clint didn’t look overly impressed and Ollie wasn’t about to tell him that this was completely theoretical. It might be typical to leave via the window but it wasn't as if Ollie had ever managed to march her way out if her own head and away from her shields. Tessie may have united them in one mind space using whatever was in Loki's staff, but Ollie was the only one who hadn't had to leave her head. It wasn't as if she knew how to jump mindspaces, no matter how well she might bluff it. Besides, Tessie could get the agents to her door but it was Ollie that made the final decision to let them inside.That being said, it was Loki that had pointed out the fact that maybe the men could leave but Ollie certainly couldn’t. This was her head after all. Strangely enough, the thought was comforting. Ollie still had complete control over her shields, no matter the fact that her defenses were thinning the longer the agents and prince’s bodies became injured both physically and mentally, the backlash clawing into Ollie with little to no warning.Clint gave here a dubious look. "Alright.” He crossed his arms and glared at her. “How?"May the gods save her from annoying men.Launching herself forward, Ollie wrapped herself around his body and let herself become dead weight. Startled, Clint could do nothing but yelp as they dropped towards the open window. In all honesty, she expected for Clint to disappear from her hold and for herself to land awkwardly on the window sill, hip first.It would make sense.Instead, pain bloomed sharply across her forehead and cheek. Reacting instinctively, Ollie threw herself backwards, her hands already raised to block the next hit.“Holy Hell!” Clint screamed suddenly.Twisting in place, Ollie only had enough time to register the fact she was in a vehicle before Clint slammed his foot on the brakes. The jeep skidded forward, tires squealing, before it shuddered to a stop, Ollie once again smacking into the dash board.Groaning, Ollie forced herself back into the seat, one hand braised against the dash. “What,” she paused her gaze flicking to a startled Clint, “was that?”This was not her head, this was not her shields, and this certainly wasn’t a dream, the pain took away that option.In the driver’s seat, Clint sat frozen, his hands tense on the steering wheel. For a moment, neither of them moved and then Clint shakily released the wheel. There was pained crease carved into his forehead and Ollie didn’t like the sheen of sweat across his brow or the candy blue glaze that was in his eyes. Slowly, with both hands trembling slightly, Clint rubbed at his temple. “What…?” He glanced around, his eyes slipping over Ollie completely.Ollie's heart dropped into her stomach, banging every rib on the way down. “Clint?”The SHIELD agent didn’t react, his jaw clenching as he rubbed at his forehead. “I don’t…” he shook his head, trailing off as he peered out the window in clear confusion.Beside him, Ollie reached over and waved a hand in front of his face in desperation. It was true that Ollie went by the name Geist, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be one.“Clint.” She whispered, terror making her voice small, “Clint, don’t leave me alone.”Ollie couldn’t go back to being alone, not after Clint gave her back her name. She couldn’t go back to the ice, to the pain, to the fear. She wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t.Beside her, Clint let his forehead fall against the steering wheel, his face turned up into a pained grimace. “Nat.” he whispered shakily, “I gotta call Nat.”Then, between one heartbeat and the next, the ground disappeared out from under them.…***…Tumbling back into the apartment was a bit of a shocker, although from the sounds of Clint’s dry retching, the new scenery was not a surprise that was appreciated. As for Ollie, she landed on her back, the curtains fluttering over head as if nothing unusual had happened.“What,” Loki asked, his dry tone shaking, “was that?”For a moment, Clint's low moan was the only answer and Ollie thought that was rather fitting. She didn’t know how answer to Loki's inquiry. It was one thing to know that others could get in her head, that Ollie could interact with people again, it was quiet another to know that these people were real. Ollie wasn’t alone and she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. She could take knowing that she had ‘gone around the bend' but attachments? People? Knowing that these people needed her help and she was reaching out to help th\em? If this went badly, their deaths would utterly destroy her. The spiders had been bad enough, but Clint had given her back her name, Loki had given her back hope.If she lost any of that, well… the fall out certainly wouldn’t be pretty.Swallowing back the bile that sprung up with the thought, Ollie forced herself up onto her elbows and stared blankly at Loki for a solid minute, her jaw unable to open as she processed the sheer insanity she had stumbled into. Licking her lips as her blood finally settled and her heart stopped its frantic surge, Ollie swung a hand around to gesture to the entire population in her head. “I think we went for a..." How did describe this? How could she explain that Clint had settled into his body and Ollie had become her name. How could she even attempt to explain this?Shaking her head, Ollie lifted her eyes to pin Loki with a look. "I think we went for a drive.”And wasn't that the understatement of the year.“At least you're not injured.” Dr. Slevig said, a small smile on his face as he offered a hand to Ollie and hauled her to her feet.From where he had braced himself against the wall, Clint looked up with haunted eyes. “It felt like something was clawing at my brain.”“But where did you go?” Loki near snarled, brushing away any concern or sympathy Clint might have gotten otherwise.Clint gagged again and Ollie grimaced at the sound, a ghost of the sheer horror she had been slammed with washing over her again. Closing her eyes for a moment, Ollie forced herself to step away from the emotion. It was situations like this that Ollie could appreciate the skill sets that came with being the Geist. In this case, it was the skill of separating the emotion from the job, the mission, that helped Ollie function even as the panic hooked into her ribs.“I don’t know.” Clint stated slowly, his eyes lost on some distant scene, a smirk beginning to cross his face. “But I know you're going to wake up with one hell of a headache.”At that, Ollie tossed him a curious look. Clint ‘s smile grew. “When I slammed on the brakes, Princey here smashed into the back window.”Ollie snorted as she tried to hold in her laughter, hysterics clawing at her throat. How the hell Clint had noticed that, she would never know, but still, the mental image of Loki sprawled flat against a window like a cartoon character was enough to push away the final dregs of fear.“The window of doom,” Ollie began, one hand flicking back to the window as she eyed the pane of glass contemplatively. “apparently leads to your heads and I get to live up to my name.” at a few blank faces, Ollie rolled her eyes. “Ghost.”Clint gave her a searching look. “You saw that?”Ollie mock scowled at him, her arms crossing over her chest. “Sweetie, you nearly put me through a window. Yes, I saw that.” The last half dissolved into a glare as Ollie rubbed the arm that had kept her from meeting the dashboard and windshield. Yet, even as Ollie took the mickey out of Clint, she made sure to keep the fact he had attempted to call for Natasha under wraps.There were some things even Ollie wouldn’t press.Clint gave her a brief nod, his lips pressed into a thin line.Turning away from his pale cheeks and haunted eyes, Ollie grinned brightly at Loki's appalled expression. “So,” she bubbled, her hands on her hips, “who wants to go next?”…***…“We may,” Loki began through gritted teeth, “have overloaded the space stone.”Absently, Ollie flipped him the bird, her eyes flicking over the underground lab searchingly. “No annoying Tessie. Got it.” She stated flippantly as she stepped out of the way of an errant scientist.In all honesty, Ollie couldn’t say that she minded the new set up. Maybe it was because there more this time, or like Loki said, the space stone and his bloody staff simply couldn’t handle the influx due to the sheer distance of each person in relation to Ollie’s corporal body, but whatever the answer was, it meant Ollie and the others were outside the bodies, watching as the world went to shit.Dr. Selvig, a washed out version of his own body, hovered over the computer his body was typing away at. His frown growing even as his eyes widened at the equations flashing on screen.Outside of their bodies, they couldn’t affect the ‘real' world. Dr. Selvig had already tried, his hands going straight through the electrical cord as he tried to pull the literal plug on the project. By the third attempt, the poor man was near screaming in frustration and desperation, and it took both Ollie and Clint to drag him away. Instead, they had suggested the doctor, a long with the handful of other agents who had joined the madcap adventure, find their bodies and do reconnaissance.With Dr.Selvig out of the way, or at least no longer underfoot, Ollie wandered the new area, her fingers tingling as she trailed a hand across a dusty desk and keyboard. The make-shift lab was bustling with movement and Ollie supposed she should be grateful that no one walked through her.Some of the agents, like the good doctor, hadn’t taken the rejection of their bodies well. Clint at least, hadn’t even tried. Although, from the slightly green tinge to his cheeks, Ollie supposed that was because of his last experience rather then any form of desperation that was urging him to retake control.Sliding up beside Clint, Ollie winced in sympathy as the man stared his body in utter betrayal. As odd as the situation seemed, Ollie could certainly sympathize. In some ways, Ollie mused, Clint's betrayal probably seemed worse. At least Ollie knew why she couldn’t access her body and why her ghostly form ached so much.“Does my hair really stick up in the back?”Blinking, Ollie turned and stared at Clint, the young man was leaning over a counter and staring intently at the back of his own head, his earlier unease forgotten in the face of such a ‘tragedy’.“It looks utterly stupid.” Clint near snarled, his hands going up to cover the back of his head.For a moment, all Ollie could do was open her mouth, before clicking it shut with a side eyed glance towards the offended SHIELD agent.“You're taking this rather well.” Ollie commented as she tilted her head to read one of the data sheets on the table. The sheet wasn’t terribly interesting and Ollie figured out it was a grid of the electric output of the Tesseract. Helpful, but not useful at the moment.“It was either this or break down in a screaming panic.” Clint commented drily, his gaze flicking over a tablet. “Touche,” Ollie relied flippantly, far too used to using distractions as a way to stay sane to even judge his thought process. And besides, Clint was correct, his hair did look ridiculous stuck up in the back. Tearing herself away from the chart, Ollie finally caught the symbol on the uniform of the few men who weren't SHIELD or civilian contractors.Raising an eyebrow, Ollie jerked a hand towards the yellow tinted uniforms. “I've got to ask, why the hell would you know where AIM is?” Ollie questioned as she turned to catch Clint's horrified gaze.Well, at least she knew he hadn’t meant to send his people here, if that look was any indication.Clint's mouth flopped open and he stared at Ollie for a long moment before shaking his head. “That’s kind of a long story.”“We've got time.” She reported with a snort as she realized the dust hadn’t moved under her hand.Absently, Ollie nodded as she stepped around a scurrying agent holding something that was suspiciously glowing blue, and Ollie was positive it wasn’t the cube. Swallowing, she shook her head, as long as the damned tesseract didn’t power guns again, Ollie could deal with whatever these crack pots were making.“How do you know what AIM is?” Clint shot back, his voice suddenly going squeaky as a woman in a lab coat strolled through him.Ollie winced in sympathy even as she drew her fingers along her lips. “Top secret.” She replied as Clint stumbled over to a wall looking positively ill.“Let me guess, that's code for ‘I don’t know.’” Clint mumbled, his teeth nearly biting through his lip as he danced around another scientist.“Got it in one!” Ollie absently cheered as she peered around a monitor. More power fluctuations. It was neat, in a ‘kiddie science fair, potato tester' kind of way, but not helpful to them for getting out of her head and into their own.Then the calculations seemed to clink into place and Ollie just about screamed bloody murder as she realized what was happening. However, Dr. Selvig beat her to it.“We've got a problem!” the doctor shouted, his voice near wobbly in panic.Transformers. High end grounding units. Military grade power units and laptops. “You're using it as a battery?!” Ollie nearly screeched as she scrambled around and in some cases, through, equipment. “That thing can blow a hole in the fucking universe, what the hell do you need it to power?”Dr. Selvig winced.“Oh no. No. No. No. No!” Ollie chanted as she spun around, finally pricing together what the general chaos meant. “I thought Asgard was on Earth!”At Clint's disbelieving look, Ollie crossed her arms. “You know, like Atlantis?”In her defense, she had been frozen for sixty-six years, she was allowed to be a little ignorant, what with borders being redrawn every few decades.“Well, actually,” Selvig began in a lecturing tone.Ollie shot the man a withering glare. “Don’t you start with me young man.” She snarled, her lips peeling back from her teeth as she spun on her heel. “Loki!” she shouted.She was going to kill the trickster prince. She really was. Humans were bad enough, but aliens? How in nine hells was she supposed to combat aliens? Aside from the general chatter of the scientists, the room fell silent.“Loki?” Ollie called again, her frustration calming at the realization she hadn't seen the man (or whatever he was) since they had all bolted for the window.“Not here.” Came the eventual reply from Clint, the agent shrugging when Ollie turned her gaze onto him.“This the stuff you need?”*Both Ollie and Clint swung around at the question, both of them staring at Clint's body as he held up a tablet with a picture labeled ‘Dr. Heinrich Schafer’. The word iridium bolded beside the man.Clint blanched. “Oh fuck.”Privately, Ollie agreed. This was worse, much worse, then the bell tower incident.“That stuff is protected by biometrics.” Clint hissed from beside her, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his body swipe through page after page of information on the soon to be hit.Ollie winced in sympathy as she saw what type of biometrics were installed in the facility. “This,” she trailed off, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as she fought the urge to retch, “is going to get bloody.”Sure enough, Clint's body looked up with an evil little smirk and a dulled mischievous glint in his blue glazed eyes. “I need a distraction and an eyeball.”*It was at that moment Ollie was grateful her memories were a little spotty. On one hand, she had the nagging suspicion she had done worse, but on the other hand, she had no proof at the moment. Frowning, Ollie shook her head in sympathy with the poor man the rogue agents were planning to, hopefully, kill.“Whatever happened to a ton of explosives and sheer dumb luck?” Ollie muttered to Clint even as they both marched after the archer's body.Clint threw an arm over Ollie's shoulder and gave her a sickening grin. “Welcome to the 21st century, where everything is complicated and nothing makes sense.”Ducking out from under his arm, Ollie spun in place and marched backwards, her eyes flicking over the computer screens, trying to take in as much of the data as possible. “Sweetheart, I was born here.” She shot back absently.Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? Ollie wasn’t from the thirties. Ollie wasn’t from the past, she had just taken the long way home. Ollie lied, all the time. Just like how she wasn’t really a boy. Layers upon layers of lies.Maybe one day she'd find the whole truth.“You were…”There are a tugging sensation from behind Ollie's ribs and in pure panic, she hit the ground with a dull thud, her cheek smacking off the wooden floor of the apartment with a slight sensation of finality.“…what?!” Clint finished with a shriek.Casting a glance around at the disoriented agents, Ollie let her head fall back against the wooden slat with a groan. Their time in the waking world was up, apparently. Slowly, Ollie blinked. The ceiling’s blue glow was dulled and there almost seemed to be an apologetic thrum to air. Closing her eyes, Ollie tried to ignore the pounding headache that was building behind her temple.For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still and the headache eased slightly with each pulse of the ceiling. Ollie patted the floor gently. “Thank you?”The ceiling flashed brightly.Well, that was… disconcerting, but who was Ollie to question a glowing blue ceiling and ghostly powers?The floor rolled under her and Ollie shrieked as she was heaved into the air. Flailing, Ollie twisted until she saw Clint holding the back of the cardigan in a fist. “What do you mean you were born here?” he thundered.If it wasn’t for the fact she could see the sheer panic in his gaze, Ollie would have shrank away from the anger that seemed to echo through his voice. Twisting out of the man's hold, Ollie dropped the last inch to the ground. “October 1998.” Ollie said, her head tilted to the side, grim humor making her laugh. “Time travel is a bitch.”Fortunately, Ollie was saved from any over the top reactions by Dr. Selvig of all people.“Is anyone going to mention the fact we're, they're,” he stuttered to a halt, his face paling as he gagged, “someone… is going to take an eyeball?”Distantly, Ollie found herself impressed a grown man could reach that high of a pitch.“At least it’s not his brain.” Loki's drawl came from the other side of the apartment.Turning, Ollie forced down her relief that the prince was fine and stalked towards him, her finger pointed towards him in an accusing manner. “You!” she cried. “You didn’t tell me that there were aliens! And where were you?”Loki looked startled at her abrupt change in attitude and Ollie had enough time to think ‘good', before the prince had back away from her and around the table.“In my defense, I thought you knew, and I'd rather not say where I was summoned.” Loki tried, a small smirk playing around the corners of his lips.Now, Ollie had grown up reading every dime a dozen sci-fi novel she could get her hands on.  By this point, she was willing to admit that most stories, from she could remember, were far more mundane then her own experiences. But aliens, that one was new.“Really?” Ollie asked, her eyebrow quirking up. Loki gave her another sly grin and Ollie rolled her eyes in response. “Please tell me there's a way to kill these suckers?”Loki grinned and flashed a knife. “I find blades work wonders on most things, dear.”Ollie twitched. “I'd rather not have to use knives at all.” She hissed, her gaze flicking between the window and Loki as a sudden thought occurred to her.They couldn’t stop the battle  they couldn’t change anything, but maybe they could get a warning out. No one could leave without holding onto Ollie  that much had been determined. Besides, when Ollie and Clint had popped into the real world, Clint had been shoved into his own body. Maybe, just maybe, she could do the same with Loki.Loki caught her by the arm. “Don't, Midgardian.” His voice was rough as he whispered into her ear and for a moment, Ollie paused.The nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong clutched Ollie by the throat and it was in a small gasp of panic that it dawned on her what had been bothering her the entire time they had been in reality. She and Clint hadn't been back in the apartment for more then five minutes before they had bounced into reality again.With Ollie manipulating the mindscape, they should have appeared in the jeep less then thirty seconds after having been forced out, but instead it was hours.Her shields were breaking.“I influenced the actions of my body enough for it to appear arrogant. Maybe, just maybe, your people can exploit that.” Loki continued in a whisper, the words barely registering in Ollie's thoughts.Sixty-six years was a long time to protect her core. It was a good stretch, and the gods knew Ollie wasn’t going down without a fight, but the others. If the ice came into Ollie's thoughts would it paralyze everyone else too? Would the agents be subjected to the torture that was the geist?“Loki,” her voice was soft, quiet, subdued in a way Ollie hardly ever allowed herself to appear, “how good are you at shielding?”The headache was pounding at her temple and the tesseract had yet to return to full strength if the dull blue was any indication.“Midgardian.” Loki drawled slowly, the word becoming a hiss. “What are you doing?”“I cant send them back.” Ollie was beginning to panic, her gaze flicking over the agents scattered across her apartment. “And I think…” the temperature in the apartment dropped, each word becoming a puff of white.Oh gods.“Olivia?” Loki’s skin flickered blue and Ollie had the strangest thought that even he wouldn’t be able to withstand this ice.The doors rattled.The pit in Ollie's stomach grew.Frost swirled out from under the door not even Clint had dared to approach, icy fingers clawing across the wood maliciously.“What is this?” Loki hissed, his hands quivering as the skin flickered.“I'm so sorry.” Ollie breathed as she stumbled in front of the shaken prince. The ice wouldn’t take them.These agents were hers.They gave her back her name.They made Ollie, Olivia Bakker, real.Nothing would touch them.The door to the chair slammed open with a bang. Ice splintered through the floor and climbed the walls. Ollie's breath hitched.Oh gods.She was waking up.“Loki.” She was proud of the way her voice stayed even. “My shields wont hold forever.”Ice wrapped around her ankle and she gave one last smile to the confused prince before the inevitable yank forced her to the ground.Twisting, Ollie scrambled at the ground, her fingers tearing out the splinters as she was dragged back inch by inch. Loki threw himself forward, his hands wrapping around hers. Ice crawled up her wrists and burned at his skin, causing the prince to hiss as his skin first turned blue then pale gray.Grinding her teeth, Ollie twisted her wrists and slid out of Loki's grasp. The ice almost seemed to cheer.And then she was yanked through the door.Her back hit the chair and manacles of braided ice and metal slammed over her wrists and ankles, pinning her in place. The cold air swirled around the room, petting at her cheeks and dragging fingers through her hair.Looking out into the main part of the apartment, Ollie was forced to watch as Clint and Loki surged towards her.The door flicked shut, ice spraying out of the frame. A second later, something or someone slammed into the door, the wood quivering.Ice crawled up Ollie's throat, curling upwards over her head. For a moment, Ollie thought she could hear something outside of the ice and hope bloomed in her chest.They were coming for her.They weren’t going to leave her alone.They weren’t going to…They…Ice pricked into her skin and Ollie fought the urge to scream. It was okay. They were going to get her, they were…Who?No.No. No. No. No. No!Her name was…Shields. She had to shield. She couldn’t lose them. She couldn’t lose…Ollie was…Ollie…214781 was…214781 was alone.214781 was always alone, except for the ice.…***…214781’s eyes cracked open even as her lips parted into a shuddering gasp, the taste of copper and iron coating her tongue.“Get it ready, we have a God to kill.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

<I don't like him>
No, Bruce thought as he gave a gentle poke back to Hulk, he didn’t like Fury either.In the back of his mind, Hulk gave a quiet little grumble and seemed to roll over in a sulk, no longer paying attention to the world. Inwardly, Bruce gave a relieved sigh. There was something rather intimidating about having an annoyed voice in his head, even if said voice acted like a petulant child eighty percent of the time.Tuning back into the tension on the bridge, Bruce blinked in surprise as Fury held out a hand, having to lean around Sargent Barnes to do so. And God, Captain Steve Rogers was alive and kicking! The sheer dumb luck that had to be attributed to that statement was astronomical, besides, it meant that the files were wrong. Bruce’s fingers were already twitching to flip through the papers, to find the error. The amount of scientific research that had to be rewritten was staggering.“Thank you for coming.”* The Director said, his hand still held out.<No.> Hulk grit out in response, his mental tongue poking out in response.Never one to argue with Hulk, especially when Bruce's sentiments were the same, Bruce stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the bridge, ignoring the way the Sargent seemed to mirror his movements. Slowly, Fury lowered his hand, his single eye narrowing in response to the snub.“Well, you did ask ever so nicely.” Bruce drawled, the sarcasm dropping from his lips like acid.Behind Fury, one of the guards twitched with a snarl and Bruce fixed him with a glare even as the Captain stepped between them, his smile a little too wide to be completely innocent. Bruce almost snorted at the way the guard seemed to recoil, his hands spasmming at his sides.Honestly, what were the SHIELD agents going to do? Shoot the three of them? It wasn’t as if death had stuck in previous situations.“So, how long am I staying?” Bruce shot at Fury, his hands still clenched in his pockets. If he didn’t get back to the compound before the end of the week, SHIELD was going to have some issues. Namely the fact that Leo, if no one else, would shut down their systems with a few keystrokes. That wasn’t even including the fit Anika was going to pitch if Bruce wasn’t able to get back and help stabilize some of the more special Bakkers.“Once we get the Tesseract, you're in the clear.” Fury attempted to sooth as he raised his hands in what he must have thought was a reassuring manner.That, wasn’t as reassuring as Fury might have thought, Bruce thought in disgust. How in the world did SHIELD lose it in the first place? These were the people who were considered to have the most secure facilities in the world, if they were broken into, then how was Banner supposed to help?“Fucking cosmic cube.” The Sargent muttered beside him, his eyes narrowed in what Bruce assumed was anger. Privately, Bruce agreed, even as he wondered over the nickname. Shaking his head, Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the Sargent continued to mutter under his breath about alien objects and stupid ghosts.“And where are you with that?”* Bruce wondered in a tone that his mother would have called sickeningly sweet.The Captain shot him a warning look and Bruce gave a discrete shrug in response. He was allowed to poke the metaphorical bear, or the pissed off Director in this case. What were they going to do, shoot him?Bruce would have liked to see them try.<But that hurts> Hulk whispered, the mental voice quivering slightly.Bruce raised an eyebrow in response, maybe provoking SHIELD wasn’t such a bright idea if Hulk was in a complaining sort of mood.In front of him, Fury gave Bruce a sideways glance, and Bruce just about choked on his tongue. Jacob had once warned him that Bruce tended to twitch when he responded to Hulk, if he didn’t out right mouth his conversations. Even eight years down the road, Bruce had never been able to completely mask the reactions. Although, living with the Bakkers, he never really had to learn, not with little Olivia constantly wanting to know what Hulk was thinking.Giving Fury a grin that probably appeared more sickly then disarming, Bruce pointedly looked around at the computers and then back at the Director.Fury seemed to heave in a breath. “Coulson?”From down in the rows of computers, an agent poked his head up, a mild frown digging lines into his skin. “We're sweeping every camera, phone, and computer on the internet. If it’s on satellite, we've got it.”*Well, as terrifying as that sounded, it meant that both Stark and Bakker lines weren’t being utilized, private satellites couldn’t be compromised by SHIELD, Leo had taught Bruce that much. Agent Coulson's response also meant that these people were doing a visual search for an object that was practically a tracking device. No wonder most Bakkers hated SHIELD on principle, they weren’t the brightest bunch.<Olivia would have found it already.> Hulk commented with a growl.‘Well, Olivia has Leo.’ Bruce responded even as he began to tug off his jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves. Olivia also had his notes on the tracking of gamma ray’s completely memorized. Hell, the little girl had improved upon them in pink crayon.If living with the Bakkers had taught him anything, it was that little girls were terrifying.“You have to narrow the field.”* Bruce commented, barely withholding the sneering comment that these people had to get into the field first. And dear lord, who looked for a radioactive (or at least gamma admitting) cube by pictures, especially when it was probably stashed away in a bag or box in the truck of someone's car. Shaking his head at the general stupidity of the human race, Bruce shot Fury a comtimplative look. “How many spectrometers do you have access to?”*“How many are there?” For a moment, Fury looked cocky, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.<He's an idiot.> Hulk stated decisively. Bruce could almost imagine Hulk sitting down with his arms crossed, a sneer settled onto his face.Bruce was unimpressed. Spectrometers weren’t difficult to find. Amature scientists could hook one up through their kitchen windows, high schools had dinky versions for students to poke. The answer to Fury's question was ‘a lot more then one might think.’Rolling his eyes, Bruce could only thank God that at least he wouldn’t have to use Bakker connections for this favour. If SHIELD was willing to pull him away from his patients, then Bruce was more then willing to make them work for that attention. “Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate then for gamma rays.*”Fury looked irritated as an agent snapped to attention and turned on her heel to hand out orders to minions lower on the totem pole. Sargent Barnes looked positively delighted, his eyes flicking across the screens as he crouched down to peer at one of the monitors.In all honesty, if it wasn’t for the fact that the Sargent seemed to be keeping up with about half of the conversation, Bruce wouldn’t have paid him any mind, but the Sargent understood. He understood what Bruce was asking for and that rang a few alarm bells in Bruce's mind. Oh, he trusted Barnes, it was hard not to when faced with that cheeky smile and bright eyes, but Bruce had to wonder how long Barnes and Rogers had been ‘awake' (he had some serious questions about their survival but that was neither here nor there).Shaking his head, Bruce pulled the satellite phone Anika insisted he carry if Bruce was going to ‘traipse across the country side poking needles into patients and kin alike.’ The sudden movement had a few of the guards tensing and it didn’t escape Bruce's notice that the Captain’s fingers brushed over his shoulder, possibly searching reflexively for his shield, in response.Once again, Bruce shot the room a general look of disappointment. Even if the guards attempted to shoot him, the moment any of them missed their co-workers would be hit in his stead and the big wall of glass behind him was a wonderful target as well. At this height, Bruce wouldn’t want to test atmospheric differences and the general thinness of the air. That, of course, wasn’t even factoring in their speed.Rolling his eyes, Bruce pulled out the phone and wiggled it condescendedly in front of the guards. “I'm going to call in a favour. I've got an-” Bruce trailed off, warnings of keeping the Bakkers a secret bouncing around his head. Besides, he couldn’t exactly say he was going to call in his ‘niece’, now could he? Especially since that niece was eight years old and very annoyed with SHIELD.Across the bridge, the Sargent gave him a concerned look and Bruce couldn’t help but smile thinly in return. Turning to look back at Fury, Bruce shrugged even as he dialed Leo by memory. “Well, let’s just say I've got an intern that wouldn’t mind a challenge.”
Leo was going to murder him for that comment, he just knew it.Fury twitched, his eyebrows raising as he took in Bruce's battered clothing and dust coated boots. “No offence Doctor, but you still have friends?”Bruce raised the phone up to his ear and quirked an eyebrow. Did Fury even realize how ironic it was for him, the spy, to ask such a thing?“Well Director,” Bruce eventually said with a smile as he heard the line connect, “we're about to find out.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I like him.” Bucky muttered under his breath with a nod in Banner's direction as Steve slid up beside him with a faux smile. The tension in the room was still too high and Bucky was beginning to twitch. Worse, Steve was beginning to crack, his smile splintering under Bucky's watchful gaze, and if there was one thing Bucky knew, it was that he would always do his best to keep Steve together.Blue lips and hospital beds were the consequence of not keeping that promise, but last time Bucky had been surrounded by this many armed guards, Ollie had been a snarling mess, and Bucky had learned of the name Geist. So, maybe it was no surprise that he was jumpy but he had to keep it together.It didn’t matter that he was on a plane.It didn’t matter that they were over the ocean. And it certainly didn’t matter that only Peggy knew where they were.He was with Steve, they had a job to do.And God help him, this wasn’t going to end well, was it?Steve hummed, the soft noise breaking through Bucky's thoughts like a clear bell and his knuckles brushed over the back of Bucky's hand almost too gently for him to notice. Slowly, Bucky raised his eyes to meet Steve's, the movement still odd even after near three years of watching his husband's back. There were still splinters in Steve's gaze but Bucky supposed that was better then the alternative.Some men had become bitter after the war.Steve just seemed bemused.And Bucky?Bucky was just tired.Something must have shown in Bucky's gaze because Steve's smile became something small, something real as he leaned closer. “You like anyone who would annoy someone like the General.”Bucky choked on a bark of hysterical laughter. Chester Philips. Good ol'General Chester Philips. The old man probably had a good laugh when they went down with the plane, he had always said their impulsiveness would get them killed. In fact, most of the war the old man had glowered at the Commandos with a mixture of pride and pity. They were the only unit of their kind and the sheer insanity of their missions probably made a rather interesting report for the higher ups. The fact the General had been willing to let Ollie not only run with them, but bunk with them spoke volumes to how much the Commandos were valued.“You annoyed Philips more then I did.” Bucky whispered, his gaze flicking around the bridge as Steve bowed his head to hide a smile. Although, Bucky mused silently, it was Ollie's cousin that the General liked the most considering the man had apparently allowed the girl to sneak in and steal the bolts to his chair without consequence.“Should I be concerned then?” Steve shot back, the smile still curling around the corner of his mouth negating the sting of the statement. “You always did like the tricky ones.”Bucky blinked, his jaw dropping as he realized Steve was insinuating that…That…"Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Bucky hissed, his gaze flicking around the bridge in a panic. Peggy might have said the general public was forgiving about two men being together but that didn’t mean the government was. And as much as Bucky was pleased Steve was comfortable teasing him, this was certainly neither the time nor the place."You'd never let me sleep on the floor.” The self assurance in Steve's voice was begging to be taken down a peg.Well, no. Bucky wouldn’t let Steve sleep on the floor. Ollie might have. Hell, Ollie might have kicked Steve out and curled into all the blankets, his mop of blond hair poking out through the small hole in the top of the cocoon. Strike that, Ollie would have certainly kicked Steve to the floor and curled up with Bucky, his tongue stuck out as he passed out draped over Bucky's lap. Still, Bucky couldn’t let Steve know that.Grinning, Bucky whacked his husband on the wrist, a small ball of relief curling in his stomach when Steve barley flinched. “Steve, old buddy, old pal…” the glee Bucky got from watching Steve's face pale was priceless, “its not like you can get sick anymore.”And wasn’t that a miracle? No more rosaries. No more desperate pleas and whispered promises. No more sleepless nights begging for Steve to just keep breathing. Going to war was worth the serum. It had to be."Shit.” Steve whispered, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the gleeful look Bucky was wearing."Language, Captain.” Bucky sang.“Hey Leo.” Banner's quiet voice cut into their banter, effectively making both men snap to attention as the older gentleman leaned against the wall, his head down. “Yeah, I'm not in India."The sheer despondency in Banner's voice made Bucky wince. It was one thing to call an intern and ask for help, it was quite another to brace for a metaphorical slap from what Bucky assumed was a lab minion.‘His brother?’ Bucky mouthed to Steve as he flicked a hand in Banner's general direction. Their banter put aside in the face of the newest puzzle.Steve paused, his head tilting as he glanced in Banner's direction. Bucky might have gotten better senses from whatever the hell had been put in his veins, but Steve? The poor man could be knocked on his six by a sharp whistle if he wasn’t braced for it. In comparison, eavesdropping on a muffled phone conversation from across the room was nothing.After a moment, Steve shook his head. ‘Cousin.’ He mouthed back.Bucky rolled his eyes and patted his pocket. ‘Bet on it?’ He held out a hand.Steve might have the better hearing but Bucky had the better interpersonal skills, or at least, that’s what Sarah had always said.Steve clasped it with a smile. ‘Deal.’A sudden flinch from Banner had Bucky dropping Steve's hand and pushing the blond behind him, one hand slipping down to his hip. Something had spooked the doctor. Something bad, something…"How did you hear about that already?” Banner near screeched, causing everyone to jump.The guards on the far side of the room fumbled with their weapons and Bucky stiffened as Steve swore and stumbled back. There weren’t enough exits. They were stuck. Bucky was on a plane. They were going to go down into a swan dive and where the hell was Ollie?Ollie always had his back.Ollie was going to get Steve off the plane and then Bucky was going to follow and everything would be fine.His shoulders were held in a tense line, anxiety curled around the pit of his stomach and sank claws into his ribs. Ollie was going to get them and Logan was going to come smashing through a wall as Dum Dum sang another disturbing pub song as he tumbled through the hole. Jones was going to smack him around the head as Jacques and Mortia ran giggling to the control panel, pliers and wire held in hand. Howard was going to be flying the gateway plane and Peggy was going to be curled over a map yelling at them to move their asses.They were going to be fine.Ollie would get them.Ollie would steal Steve's shield and whack everyone over the head and snarl about trashcan lids and cast iron frying pans. And Bucky was going to owe him a drink. Not the watered down swill that was stashed in everyone's boot locker, but the good stuff. The stuff that Ollie kept stashed under floorboards and pillowcases. The one that Ollie drank when shit hit the fan and there was nothing to do but roll with the punches.Bucky just had to hold on. He just had to hunker down between the rows and make sure Steve kept his head down. Ollie would toss him a rifle when he managed to break in and somehow the man would have found Steve's shield somewhere along the way and everything was going to be…“Fine!” Banner snapped, his skin seeming to ripple. The movement caught Bucky's eye and kept it. Ice seemed to crystallize across Bucky's back and his breath hitched in his lungs.Ollie wasn’t coming to get them.Ollie wasn’t coming to get them because Ollie was dead.Ollie was dead.The Commandos were old, and Peggy was old and married. And the world had moved on. And everyone was…Ollie was dead. It was 2008. The SSR had disappeared into history. SHIELD was Peggy's baby, and everything was going to be fine.All they had to do was save the world.The last thought made Bucky snort in a mockery of hysterical laughter. The last time they had saved the world, they had ‘died'.Maybe this time it would stick. Who knew?Steve's hand brushed his shoulder and Bucky just about hit the ceiling, his heart racing. Steve grimaced, his jaw jutting out as he jerked his head towards a particularly twitchy guard by the main doorway.Bucky just about groaned. Of course the newbie was the gate guard, that was just their luck. Twitchy children and high velocity bullets, never a good combination.If this dissolved into a fire fight, Bucky was hightailing it to plane, high tech modifications or not. The theory of flying couldn’t have changed that much in the past half a century.Besides, saving the world again was not worth getting Steve shot.Steve stepped forward, his broad shoulders blocking any potential bullets from landing on Bucky if the gate guard became shell shocked and frightened. The action would have been sweet, if not for the fact Bucky knew his idiot of a husband wasn’t as bullet proof as the brass seemed to think.If Steve kept acting like a cocky idiot then maybe it was worth getting him shot. In a non-vital area of course.Ok, that was it. When Bucky spoke to Peggy next, they were getting that stupid shield back, no matter what the curators said. He'd steal it if he had to.Somehow, Banner hadn’t seemed to notice the commotion he had caused. “Look, I’ll deal with the fall out later…” he snarled, his gaze fixed somewhere in the far distance as he listened to Leo give a snippy report. “Leo. No. I'll deal with it later. Look, you know that algorithm your sister and I…”This time, even Bucky could hear the shouting from the other end of the line. Exchanging a look with Steve, Bucky grabbed onto his husband’s shoulder and got ready to dive into the rows of computers. It wasn’t worth getting shot due to some twitchy guards and besides, Bucky was a sniper, he shouldn’t be this close to the fray anyway, he thought a little hysterically.“Kid, your sister is damn smart and I'm not going to argue that with you.” Banner's voice was oddly two-toned, the doctor's cultured drawl was underscored by a voice that seemed to have gargled rocks and eaten glass for breakfast. “No Leo,” Banner cut off the boy quickly, his voice still eerie, “you listen to me. Your sister is a genius and I know you’re trying to protect her, but think about the fact I called you instead of…” Banner looked up, seeming to finally understand that everyone was attempting to listen in on the conversation.Comically, the nearest guards snapped to attention while some of the agents gave small sympathetic grimaces.Honestly, at this point Bucky was wondering if the good spies died in the war and this was what was left.Poor Peggy.Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Start up the algorithm and hook it into SHIELD. They’ve got a situation and you guys are next on the list of people able to deal with it if this goes south.”Once again, Bucky sat in awe of the language coming from the other side of the line. While Jacques could get pretty inventive in cursing, this was taking bilingual and cultural curses to a whole new level. Besides, who ever threatened to boil teeth?“Language.” Banner chided, the two tone gone from his voice. “And do say hello to your sister for me.”At that, Bucky groaned, already half reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Really, he should know better by now then to bet against his husband. Typically, he lost. Except for that one night in September of ’40. That one ended spectacularly for one Sargent James Barnes. Even the memory made him grin smugly.“And who was that?” Fury inquired, the man somehow looking unruffled even as he glared around at the still twitchy guards.“My nephew.” Bruce answered absently as he tucked the phone back into his pocket.For some reason, this answer didn’t seem to reassure Fury, even while Bucky tucked away his wallet with a grin. It turned out that both of them got to keep their money. Steve seemed put out, but Bucky didn’t let that bother him. If anything, the exchange he and Steve had in the background seemed to annoy Fury, as the man shook his head with a quiet hiss.“Agent Romanoff,” he eventually snapped, “show the doctor to his lab.”*The Firebrand seemed to appear directly behind Steve's shoulder and suddenly Bucky sympathized with Susa a hell of a lot more if this was how he felt when Bucky or Steve staggered around a corner in the dead of the night. As it was, Bucky was beginning to understand, not just acknowledge, why Peggy had a no gun rule in the house.Twitchy didn’t begin to cover the nerves that seemed to be sparking under Bucky's skin.“You're going to love it doc, we've got all the toys.”* The Firebrand purred as she led Banner off the bridge, somehow shooting one last grin at Bucky as she left.Bucky barely had time to blink before Fury was giving them a once over. “While Dr. Banner is looking for the tesseract,” he began, his manner dismissive as he began to turn back to his crew.Well, Bucky thought with narrowed eyes, that wouldn’t do at all. If Fury wanted them here then the man was going to least keep them entertained. Who knew what could happen if Steve was left unattended?“We'll be back at the room, we have a few calls to make.” Steve interrupted quickly, the lie dropping from his lips easily.Side-eyeing his husband, Bucky nodded along quickly, even as he mentally tried to whack Steve upside the head. This was why one never gave Steve any time to think. Things went wrong rather quickly. Now, that being said, typically, Steve was willing to let the ‘unknown' explain how the situation worked before he blasted a hole into their plans, it made meetings much more entertaining that way. However, this time Steve seemed to be fidgeting to get off the bridge instead of trying to stay and figure out the marching orders. Considering the last time he had done that, the two of them had landed in ice, Bucky wasn’t exactly in any hurry to back Steve up. On the other hand, no supervision and a massive futuristic ship filled with shiny technology. That debate wasn’t hard.Bucky smiled and patted his pocket. “Yeah, we had better call Jim, the neighbour boy. He and his sister tend to get nervous if we are gone for longer then forty-eight hours at a time with no heads up.”Which, in a way, was true. Mortia had been a little panicky when no one checked in over the radio for more then two days at a time and Bucky had the neighbouring bunk. Just because Bucky had never met Jim's sister and he had no intentions of calling Jim at the moment, didn’t mean the statement was a complete lie.It was more a stretch of the truth.Ollie would have been proud.Besides, Fury didn’t know how long they had been awake and Bucky was positive Peggy wouldn’t have given that information away without a good reason. If Fury thought they had a home base and a life then it was unlikely, or at least difficult, for Fury to attempt to remove them or displace them. There was also the added tidbit of watching as the ‘master spy' ground his teeth together trying to figure out how much he didn’t know.Steve might have been the one to annoy authority figures to their face but Bucky was the one who tended to be a bit more subtle.With that, Bucky grabbed Steve's arm and hauled him through the door, waving gleefully to Fury as they all but pranced down the corridor. The man couldn’t object if they weren’t there to be yelled at. The strategy had worked with Philips and there was no reason it couldn’t work with Fury.By the time they were back at the room, Bucky was near vibrating with the need to go and ogle the labs they had wandered past. Maybe it was the fact he had spent the past few years as Howard's test subject, maybe it was how he and Jacques used to pour over the newest ways to blow up a bridge, but the organized chaos that was SHIELD was making Bucky’s fingers itch. Somehow, Bucky was going to find a way to poke around those labs, even if he had to sell his soul to do it.Leaning on the door to the room, Steve glanced up and down the hall. “Maybe we really should call Peggy.” He mused quietly, the cell phone already in his hand.Bucky barley heard him, his mind already racing as he tried to hop back to the labs through sheer willpower. “This isn't like the time you broke the transmitter, just call her later.” He ordered absently.Did Howard know about these labs? Bucky had a feeling Howard didn’t know about the labs or he wouldn’t have shut up about them when Peggy had finally managed to pin the man down for a phone call.Steve shot him a dirty look and threw the door open. “When this goes sideways and Peggy decides to calmly tell us she is disappointed before she kills us, I’m ducking behind you.”Bucky clicked his teeth together and gave Steve a baleful glare. As much as he wanted to whine that Steve wasn’t being fair, he had a point. Peggy took no shit and if she found out Bucky was the reason things had gone wrong, well… Bucky shuddered. The ice would have been a gentler way to go.Mockingly, Steve held open the door and bowed his head, gesturing for Bucky to walk inside. “Your war room, my liege.” Steve taunted.Walking backwards, Bucky flipped him off, and then Bucky tripped and hit the ground with a bone jarring thud. Steve paused in the doorway, his eyes wide. “The duffle bag was left on the bed, right?” Steve whispered as he ducked into the room and shut the door softly.For a moment Bucky could only stare. His shirt was under the bed. His blue knit shirt that Peggy had said made him look like a disgruntled feather duster, was under the bed.“Steve.” Bucky began, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “Did you see the duffle bag-" here Bucky had to pause. Even with all the things they had seen, a twitching duffle bag seemed a little far fetched. Dragging himself to his feet, Bucky snagged the shirt and tossed it onto the bed. “Did you see the duffle bag move while we were in the car?” Bucky finished as Steve picked up the decidedly now empty bag.Steve bit his lip and looked around the room. “There’s nothing here.” He commented, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion.Annoyed that Steve wasn’t answering the question, Bucky held up his shirt with a pointed cough. Steve batted the shirt away with a scowl. “No, Bucky, you braced under the weight of the bag, where did that weight go?”At that, Bucky had to pause. Yes, his shirt had made it under the bed, but for such a small room, there should have been things strewn across the floor. Instead, only his shirt was under the bed. Still… “Steve, did you see the bag move?” Bucky snarled as he grabbed the duffle bag and ran a hand along the bottom, actively hoping there would be something hidden in the lining that would explain the whole situation.Steve's silence was answer enough. “And you didn’t think to say something?” It was sort of embarrassing how high his voice managed to reach.Steve held up his hands defensively. “You didn’t say anything either.” He accused, his eyes narrowing. “Besides, if Peggy needed to smuggle something into SHIELD, who am I to argue.”Bucky dropped the bag with a groan. “Steve, I doubt Peggy needs to smuggle in anything that can leave on it’s own.”This time, it was Steve that clicked his jaw shut. “Do you want to explain to Fury that something might be lose on his ship?” he commented with a sigh.At that, Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “Steve, this is Carter we're talking about. I doubt she'd give us anything dangerous or anything that could be tracked back to us.”When Steve didn’t look convinced, Bucky threw an arm over his shoulder and tugged him back towards the door. Stumbling back out into the hall, Bucky poked his husband in the ribs. “Come on, I want to get outfitted for when Banner gives us the coordinates.”Behind them, the door clicked shut and for some reason the sound seemed ominous to Bucky. The duffle bag was empty and whatever was inside, was long gone. With the sheer muscle needed to move the bag Peggy probably hadn’t been the one to pack it, which meant Howard had to be aware of the contents considering he was the only one with minions to lug things around for him. While Bucky wasn’t frustrated with Peggy or Howard for using them as pack mules, it did mean that he and Steve were going to have to be outfitted by the quarter master, and that was always a fun trip.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The damned book had given him a paper cut, Alexander realized as he instinctively sucked the pad of his thumb with a hiss. Twenty years ago, hell even five years ago, Alexander wouldn’t have dropped the book, not even fumbled it as he flipped through the pages on the long march through the hallways. Yet, as Alexander watched the book tumbled from his finger tips, he was forced to face the realization that he was getting old.He was getting old and all he had gotten for his troubles was a sliced finger tip. If that wasn’t the perfect metaphor for him life, Alexander wasn’t sure what was.But really, in the grand scheme of things, what was another speck of blood on this book? The infernal thing already reeked of iron, copper and ice. Internally wincing at the thought of the book, bloodied or not, hitting the floor with enough force to split the binding, Alexander cursed around the pad of his thumb. He couldn’t afford to lose any of the pages, not now.Long, half forgotten reflexes from teams Alexander had played on in his youth, had the older man kicking a foot out in a futile hope to catch the book with the top of his polished shoe. What he expected to happen when his foot made contact, other then to boot it across the hall, Alexander would never know. Yet, instead of that disastrous outcome, a movement far quicker then Alexander's weakening eyes could track, caught the book mid tumble.Knee jerk reaction should have had Alexander snatching the book away and shooting the infidel who dare touch the relic on sight, but the guiltless grin and sparkling eyes had Alexander pausing, hand still cupped around his chin, thumb pressed between his teeth. In Alexander's experience, most men who were handpicked to work on the hellicarrier tended to be cynical and worn. This agent, with his hand still patently extended and his face open and honest, was interesting.It also helped that he had caught the book before it hit ground and somehow managed to do so without Alexander realizing the agent had approached him.No, interesting barely scratched the surface of the possibilities of the interesting gem hidden in Fury's mechanical fortress.“Here you go sir.” The agent said, his slow blink giving nothing away. For a man who had been gawked at for near two minutes, Alexander had to admit he was doing well under the scrutiny. Resisting the urge to snatch the book away from the man, Alexander shook himself back to the present and deftly wrung out his hand, absently grimacing as the cut tinged at the movement. Nodding to the book as his fingers curled around the spine, Alexander tossed out a pleased, “Good catch, son.”Alexander wasn’t even lying, the agent had seemingly caught the book without a thought, his hand snapping out at the last second as he walked by with what had to be the newest hire in the STRIKE team. How Alexander had missed the other man hovering over the first like an impatient shadow, Alexander would never know.God, if the World Security Council Undersecretary was managing to miss two men in an empty hallway, then the world truly had cause to despair.God, he really was getting old.The agent grinned and shook his head in what might have been bashfulness. “Thank you, sir…?”Alexander raised an eyebrow as he cast an appraising eye over the younger man. All of Alexander's men knew him on sight, if not by reputation and it had been a long time since Alexander had to introduce himself. It was a pity the agent wasn’t one of his, he would have made a wonderful addition with those reflexes. Still, he supposed he had to give some good agents to Nicholas.“Alexander Peirce,” he introduced with a charming smile, his teeth flashing a little too quickly in the dim lighting, “and you are?”Alexander might have had to give some good agents to Nicholas but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. Besides, a few years down the line and Alexander might have some sympathizers if he played his cards right.And he often did.The first agent smiled and shook Alexander's hand. Oddly enough, although the man's hand was silver with scars, there wasn’t a hint of a tremor. The small grin on the man's face seemed to grow as Alexander poorly hid his surprise. Men in this type of profession hardly cared for bruised knuckles and broken joints, but it was rare to see such scaring and still have full dexterity. “Sargent Jameson, and this lout here,” the Sargent said as he whacked the other man on the chest with back of his hand, “is Captain Stevens.”Extracting his hand, Alexander gave a quick glance to the Captain, noting how the blond hovered protectively over Jameson's shoulder. Where Jameson was open and easy to read, Stevens wore a fixed mask of polite interest.Blinking, Alexander looked between the two men, a thought he couldn’t catch flying around his head. There was something familiar about them and the longer the silence stretched between them, the more Alexander was positive he had seen them before.In all likelihood, he probably had seen them before, all STRIKE agents and hopefuls crossed his desk at some point and there had been countless sleepless nights where Alexander had flipped through file after file. So, it was probable that Alexander had even read their files and simply didn’t remember it.Shaking himself from the depressing thoughts about missions gone wrong and half written letters of condolences, Alexander gave the Captain a small apologetic smile.The captain nodded quietly in response, the message getting across without any words needed to Express the problems. After a moment though, his eyes narrowed on the book. “Is that a good read?”“No,” Alexander sighed, eyeing the black leather bound book, his gaze catching on the red star as they always did, “its all about programming and command sequences. Pretty boring stuff.”The Captain had enough grace to grimace in sympathy. “Protcals, ain’t they a bitch?” Stevens drawled, a small smirk quirking around his mouth.Caught, Alexander gave a quiet chuckle. Maybe both men could be lured into working for him, STRIKE could always use some competent sympathizers. “Yes well, this one,” he tapped the book with a annoyed roll of his eyes, “was programmed oddly, resulting in some glitches. Thankfully, we can just wipe the software and update the hardware instead of having to scrap the entire project.”And wasn’t that the best news he had heard all day? The project was still salvageable after nearly a decade in storage, the new command sequences could be installed over the primary drives, and one of Alexander's acquaintances had managed to upgrade the base hardware.Nicholas might think he had the little situation handled, but Alexander had never been one to dissuade naïve little Nicholas. The poor man still thought the earth was salvageable even with the heathens, hypocrites, and harlots crawling through the dirt. What the world needed was a firm hand. A guiding force to bring the masses to heel even as the worthy carved out a new world from the ashes of the old.Nicholas thought it fine to stumble through this broken mess and place patches over the corrupt, but Alexander? Alexander knew better. The weak needed to be weeded out from the strong, only then would the worthy be able to walk without scorn or fear. Only then would Hydra be able to step out of the shadows and take control of the wild and reckless.However, Alexander was a realist. Hydra could not step out of the shadows if there was no welcoming light to approach. The little alien that thought himself a god needed to be put down like the crazed animal he was. Putting the thing out of its misery was kinder then letting it think itself above humanity. Even the dregs of humanity were better then this false god. Yet, in some ways, it was a pity that the would be god would have to be put down, but the technology needed to create another Fist had been lost when the harlot, the so-called Black Widow, burned a Hydra storage facility to the ground with her little toy archer.That little girl should have been Hydra's pride and joy, but somehow, she had been let loose. Collared and protected by Nicholas, resented by all her trainers. She had been the best of the best, the top of her class, given every opportunity, and allowed the honour of being tutored by the Fist itself. But no. The child had broken from the fold weeks before her final presentation.The loss of the Black Widow was inexcusable and the destruction left in her wake had forced Alexander to close the whole program. In less then a week, Alexander had lost an entire generation of loyal forces and the ability to maintain one of the best operatives available. Had the harlot gotten away and hidden, Alexander could have forgotten (not forgiven, never forgiven. The betrayal was too much) the whole incident, or at least put it out of mind, but the Fist…The weapon had broke and there was nothing Alexander could do to keep the damned thing marching along under orders.But now with the book, well, things were looking up.Looking up at the agents, Alexander gave them both a tight smile as he began to walk back down the hallway, “But yes, Captain, protocols are a bitch.”Faint laughter followed him down the hall to the archives and Alexander stalked through the door without a thought. Poor Nicholas, naïve and untested, unable to see the monster that slept in the perverbial closet.And the Fist was a monster, no matter how pretty it looked.The back of the archives opened at his approach, and he heard rather then saw the lab rats scurrying around the sterile prep bay. The Fist, the Ghost, Alexander's little weapon, was laid out on the table, frost dripping off its skin. Pausing, the door slid shut behind him with a quiet click, and Alexander had to give the lab rats some grudging respect over the fact they hardly looked up from their designated tasks.Reaching out, Alexander dropped the book on the table next to the Ghost and sank down into the chair. For archaic technology, it was remarkable how well the Ghost had been protected against the passage of time, it’s time in storage fading away the longer it thawed on the table.“Aren't you a pretty little thing.” Alexander crooned, one hand coming up to tuck a brittle strand of hair behind its ear.The Ghost was still as beautiful as the day he had gain access to its protocols, Alexander mused as his eyes wandered over its form. A lithe pretty little package with easy serenity hiding away a core of bloodlust and battle rage. A perfect little weapon that was his to reprogram.Maybe this time they'd be able to work out a few of the persistent glitches. Although, really, some of those glitches had come in handy over the years. For some reason the Ghost would only work with blond or brunette American men who also had New York or Pennsylvanian accents. Alexander, a native New Yorker had fit the bill perfectly, quickly bumping up through the ranks as he held the leash of the Ghost.Of course, they learned the hard way that the Ghost seemed drawn to children, young little things that it could chatter at. While attaching the Ghost to a child made the Ghost far more violent and willing to march under orders, it also made the Ghost prone to lashing out at its Handlers. In the end, the Ghost was removed from the children’s program and handed back to Hydra with the orders to never allow the Ghost near a child again.Yes, there were plenty of glitches in the Ghost's programming but Alexander wasn’t overly fussy about which ones stayed as long as the Ghost could navigate the orders given with the same self assurance that had been there before the program had been shut down. Of course, just because the program had been shut down didn’t mean that Alexander had stopped using the Ghost. No, it was too valuable for that, instead the Ghost had only been let off the leash for a few hours, days at most, instead of being continually used as it had been for years prior to the audit.Shifting in his chair, Alexander carded his hand through the Ghost's hair absently. It would be interesting if it responded with the same silent effectiveness as that last dreadful mission, he had aged considerably since the Ghost had last taken his orders. There was, of course, always the possibility that the Ghost might not respond to him anymore, in which case a new operative would have to be found, and quickly. Captain Stevens and Sargent Jameson might work, if they could be convinced to work with the Ghost in the first place. Although, if they were STRIKE operatives then they were already primed to be introduced to the program.It took a certain amount of ruthlessness to be a STRIKE agent after all.Standing, Alexander allowed himself to acknowledge the aches that haunted his back and knees. He hadn't had an easy road to get to this point and the older he got, the worse the aches became.“She's amazing.”Alexander threw a look over his shoulder with a snarl at the gawking STRIKE agent. Alexander might not have been able to go out into the field anymore but that didn’t mean he had to like giving his weapon over to another.“You will be briefed when the weapon is ready.” Alexander said stiffly, his hand tightening on the already thought hold he had in weapon's hair.Rumlow paused, his fingers stopping just shy of brushing the weapon's foot. Under Alexander's stare, the man seemed to wilt. “You have to admit she's pretty.” He whined.Alexander barley held onto the snarl as he snapped a hand towards the doorway. Grimacing, Rumlow scuttled away, looking neither apologetic nor cowed, but Alexander didn’t expect him too.He was a STRIKE agent after all.Unsurprisingly, the lab rats scurried after Rumlow, their faces pale and drawn. Alexander didn’t pay too much attention to them. Under his hand, the weapon began to stir, small twitches Alexander only felt due to his hand entangled in its hair.There were several things wrong with Rumlow's assessment of the weapon. The first being that it was not a she. The weapon, the ghost, wasn’t anything other then an it. It had no name. It had no personality.It had no freewill.It was the fist of Hydra, an extension of the organization's will. It could do nothing but follow orders.The second thing wrong with Rumlow's observations was that the Ghost wasn't pretty, it was beautiful. The Ghost had the appearance of a young woman, it’s face only marred by a silver scar that ran down from it’s temple over the right eye. The Ghost hadn’t survived the years entering intact either, scars crisscrossed the Ghost's body but with the fluid movement of the Ghost's body, one would never notice.The lab rats over the years seemed to expect the Ghost to respond in aborted movements and shorter creaking sounds, but that wasn’t the Ghost's way.What made the Ghost unique was it's ability to blend in. It had all the proper social tics programmed into it. The correct way to hold itself for extended periods of time, the shifting stance, the easy smiles, the fidgeting. The Ghost was unique because it had been human. It had been human and then Hydra had found it and made it better.Hydra had taken a little American spy and molded her into something worth salvaging.Although, Alexander realized as the Ghost stirred again, they had never learned its name. Over half a century the Ghost had been under Hydra's command and the file for pre-war history was near empty. They knew she was American, had worked for the SSR as a secratairy, and had actively worked against Herr Shmidt.But the post-war file?Ghost worked well with children. It responded well to American accents and blond men, there was a preferance for 30s and 40s slang, and orders had to be worded as if the situation the Ghost was being sent in to deal with had hurt the handler personally. The Ghost disliked dresses and skirts but could fight and maintain a cover if needed. Rifles were the preferred weapons unless there was a close combat scenario, where in which the Ghost would use knives if provided and every day objects if not. It worked better alone rather then in a group but would always protect the smallest of the group if the skirmish became overwhelming.The Ghost hardly ever missed a shot and often managed to complete jobs Hydra was unsure could be done in the first place.However, the Ghost could never be left alone for longer then to days. Two days was the longest the programming would hold. Without reiterating the trigger words for the programming, the Ghost's dominitate personality would begin to intrude upon Hydra's good work.She liked to toy with Hydra agents. She left a trail of broken necks and burned files. She laughed, screeched, and fought when lead to the chair. She was the reason Ghost was put on ice. She was the reason that Alexander had lost his weapon, and she was the only woman Alexander would love to strangle bare handed.But, she was his Ghost, and his Ghost was beautiful. A perfect little specimen wrapped up and written out in an equally beautiful black book.Reaching forward, Alexander steadied the Ghost as it woke up and attempted to sit up, disorientation clear in it's otherwise blank eyes. His thumb rubbed the top of its cheekbone, pulling its gaze towards his own.“Hello Doll.” Alexander cooed, his other hand reaching down to cover the numbers on it's arm. He had never agreed with the need to degrade Ghost to a number, not when it was so much more. It was Alexander’s weapon. His to name and his to own. “Its been a long time.”Ghost blinked at him, its gaze frozen as it’s programming snapped into place behind blank eyes. Used to the reaction, Alexander took his hands away from Ghost and picked up the brush that had been left on the table.When Alexander had inherited the position of Handler, one of the first things he had done after orienting himself with the file, was to order it's hair be left to grow out. There was no reason for the Ghost to masquerade as a man, not with such a pretty face. Besides, the Ghost was one of the instructors for the Black Widow program, its looks were to be enhanced not hindered.Gathering the Ghost's hair, Alexander sat behind it and drew the brush through its waist length mane. Ghost barely reacted, only lifting its chin when Alexander tapped its shoulder so he could reach a rather difficult tangle. Picking apart the small knot, Alexander silently mused the irony that the Ghost couldn’t braid it’s own hair, instead relying on handlers and mandates for that task. Necessity had been a wonderful teacher to Alexander in that regard, a feat he had later managed to impress his wife and daughter with when he could quickly and effortlessly braid both their heads with barley a thought to the action.“Doll, you slept a long time.” Alexander murmured as he tried of the tail of the braid and pressed a quick kiss to the plait. Ghost hummed, a cracked sound that told Alexander that it was paying attention.Grinning at the reaction, Alexander tugged the tip of its braid, delighting in the way it turned to catch his eye, a confused frown marring its brow. Slowly, Ghost lifted a hand and poked at his cheek, her fingers trailing over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. It was Ghost's way of saying hello. A way for it to memorize a handler and catalogue injuries. Catching its hand in his, Alexander rubbed his thumb over its knuckles. “Hello Doll.”For a moment, the only reaction was a slow blink, then Ghost smiled shyly. “Punk.” It whispered, a strange fondness underlying the nickname.“Yeah, Doll. That’s me.” Alexander murmured, chuckling softly when Ghost frowned at his tie and began to fidget with his collar.No one knew why Ghost called every blond handler Punk. Privately, Alexander wondered if it was someone from before, a fiancée perhaps. Although, truly, that nickname was better then the alternative. Every brunette was dubbed Cannon.Punk and Cannon. The only two people Ghost would ever heed. And just like the mystery of Ghost's true name, no one had ever been able to identify Punk and Cannon. Sometimes Alexander wondered if Ghost ever saw its handlers or if it only ever saw the real Punk and Cannon.“Cannon?” Ghost trilled, its face hopeful as it glanced around.Twisting his face into a grimace, Alexander allowed himself to fall into the role he had inherited when he became Ghost’s handler. “I'm sorry Doll, Cannon didn’t make it.”In all the time Alexander had been Ghost's handler, there had never been an active ‘Cannon', two active handlers deemed too risky by the former Hydra leaders. By the time Alexander had been in a position to create a new Cannon, he had selfishly kept Ghost to himself. Alexander had helped re-train Ghost, he wasn’t about to let someone else reap the rewards.Yet, with only ‘Punk' being active, it was always interesting to see how, exactly, Ghost would react. Sometimes Ghost would fall silent, the spark in it's eyes dimming. Other times  Ghost would hang onto Alexander's arm and pace around in his shadow, near catatonic in fright that ‘Punk' would disappear with Cannon.And then there was the third reaction, the one that Alexander liked the best. Ghost was a highly regarded weapon because it could react to any situation. Calm and patient in the face of a challenge, Ghost would continue to march until it dropped.Except, sometimes, Ghost got angry.Sometimes, Ghost would become brutal, near feral in its march. Snapped necks and broken bones lay strew in its wake. When Ghost was told that Cannon was ‘dead', it would come back with a token for Alexander. Occasionally Ghost would come back with a limb, often it would come back with a badge or an I.D card of the apparent ‘killer'. Alexander was never sure what Ghost expected him to do but Ghost always had a vicious little grin and a smug air about it when the ‘killer' was caught.A Ghost with a mission was useful but a Ghost with a vendetta? That was damn terrifying.Sure enough, Ghost grabbed onto his hand, its fingers trailing over his knuckles. “Cannon's gone?” it whispered, it’s voice hushed as it stopped just above Alexander's wedding band.Letting go of its braid, Alexander leaned back with a soft smile. “Cannon's gone.” He confirmed, near cackling in relief when Ghost's eyes hardened and it’s fingers, the human ones, tightened on his.“Are you safe?” the question came out in a murmur when Ghost learned forward, forehead resting against the wedding band.“Not for much longer.” Alexander declared as he grabbed the tablet a thoughtful lab rat had left behind for him. It only took a moment for Alexander to pull of the relevant file, his fingers trailing across the screen awkwardly as Ghost commandeered his other hand and fiddled with the wedding ring. Ignoring the soft touch, Alexander pulled Ghost into his side and tilted the screen towards it. “This is the man who killed Cannon.”The picture of the so-called God was new, taken from the few seconds of film saved from the wreckage of the old lab Loki had blown up. Hydra was extremely lucky the shot was only slightly blurry and taken straight on.Ghost growled, a deep rumbling snarl that tore out of its throat and threatened to keep going unless Alexander stopped it. Except, that anger was useful and Alexander had no intention of stopping it.“He thinks himself above the law.” Alexander explained, well used to the disquiet Ghost displayed just before a mission.Typically, Alexander would launch into a spiel about how the target was coming after him next and that it wasn’t a safe, and could Ghost deal with it please? But this time, the interaction changed.“Blue.” Ghost cut in, the growl gone from the undercurrent of its voice. “Why is it blue?” metal fingers poked at the image, settling over Loki's head with a quiet kind of inquiry.Alexander was flabbergasted. Ghost didn’t ask questions about missions, it simply wasn’t done. Alexander would wake it up, comb its hair, sweet talk the weapon, and then send it on it’s way. The carnage was always bloody and always well done. Alexander would then collect the weapon from wherever it had holed itself up, drag it to the chair where it would then be wiped and primed for the next mission.Still of kilter, but used to the odd question or two from his own grandchildren, Alexander recovered quickly. “Because that’s his eyes, darling.”Ghost seemed to think this answer was stupid, as it gave him an exasperated look as its fingers drifted to hover over the man's arm. “But why isn’t it blue?”Alexander must have heard Ghost wrong the first time, he thought, as he shook his head slowly and wondered if the chair had some other unfortunate side effects Hydra hadn't been aware of. “Doll, humans aren’t blue.” It was like explaining why little Sarah couldn’t colour in the spots on the dalmatian, Alexander thought ruefully.“Oh.” Ghost was quiet, its nose wrinkled as it thought through the implications that statement. “And Cannon is dead?” the words sounded dubious.Alexander leaned back, his eyebrows raising as he took in Ghost's disquieted appearance. Maybe a trip to the chair was needed. His hand twitched towards the book and Ghost straightened, its shoulders stiffening slightly as it nodded frantically. “I’ll get him. I’ll get him Punk, you don’t have to worry.”Slowly, Alexander took both of Ghost's hands in his, flinching slightly at the cool metal. “I know you'll get him Doll.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“What did you bring onto my ship?”The indignant question had Bucky spinning around, the rifle thankfully pointed at the floor as his heart jumped into his throat. On the far side of the room, Fury stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Peirce, the man Bucky had practically ran into only a few hours before.Had it only been Peirce, Bucky would have placed the weapon on the table and taken a step back to control the sudden shaking in his hands, but behind the man's shoulder Bucky caught a glimpse of a hooded figure. Half forgotten memories of sliding down back alleys and cowering behind crates had Bucky tensing. Hooded figures and dark shadows tended to mean broken bones, police sirens, and at least one death threat.Besides, at some point Bucky had gotten used to being the scariest thing on the block -not many people would go against a sniper after all- and he wasn’t sure he appreciated the realization there were scarier things out there then an outdated sniper and his highly protective husband. Hell, it used to be that if Bucky wasn't enough of a threat, then Ollie dismantling guns and sharpening blades with a keen focus was just enough to make most people squeak and break down. If Ollie's presence wasn't a deterrent, well, Bucky had learned early on not to question what happened behind closed doors and soundproof walls.“The World Security Council has authorized the use of a phase two weapon for this situation.” Peirce answered near flippantly as he stepped aside, motioning the figure in black to step forward. “This is Ghost, a STRIKE operative, he'll follow and step in if it is deemed necessary.”Every SHIELD agent looked perturbed at the name and Bucky barely hid his flinch. On one hand, Bucky knew code names were recycled and often appeared due to accidents or as a reflection of one's skills, but that didn’t mean Bucky had to like the man that had Ollie's name.“Geist is a retired name.” Fury spat, his gaze raking over the intruder with something Bucky would have called hatred if he thought Fury could be open with his thoughts. “And I didn’t authorize phase two weapons to be allowed on my ship.” The response was ground out with a bite, the anger near palatable in the air.Peirce almost appeared taken back, his easy going smile slipping under Fury's gaze. “Then it’s a good thing he's not SHIELD, he's STRIKE.”If there was one thing Bucky had learned while working the docks, it was that no one questioned a ship captain, not even a harbor master. If Fury let this slide, the Bucky was willing to bet Peirce would be taken down a notch when there was no one around to witness the resulting brawl.Fury had to run a tight ship, not just because of the intelligence agency or the resulting fallout from the recent situation, but because this was a ship. They were how many miles up in the air, and if something went wrong, Fury had to know his people were the best and could correct the problem before anyone was hurt. Questioning Fury's authority wouldn’t just bruise the director's ego, it would also undermine the authority of every member of his crew.Because, if Fury was unable to do his job, what did that mean for the best and brightest of his crew?These were the types of things Steve didn’t seem to understand, Bucky thought as he watched his husband snicker at the situation unfolding before them. Oh, Steve new that authority should sometimes be questioned behind closed doors rather then in public, but he didn’t seem to understand the sheer size of some of the political nuisances he had been thrust into. Steve was so used to having to fight for everything that he didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t his fight anymore. Steve had stepped into a power vacuum in the war and he had been lucky enough that his sudden rise to fame had kept the bigwigs out of his way, for the most part.Bucky meanwhile had to swallow his pride and glare.Authority couldn’t be questioned when it was the only thing between you and a painful death, but Bucky also knew that most sure fire way to undermine authority was to take it away. Bucky had been the Sargent of the 107th, but he hadn’t been the highest in command when Ollie had booked it through the woods and nailed Dumdum with an iron bar. Hostile takeovers were not a alien concept to Bucky and if Carter was sweet on this boy, then Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone take authority away from the man.Not even a man who thought he could play at being a Ghost.For another long moment, Peirce and Fury stared at each other before Peirce looked away, a scowl lining his face.In the corner of his vision, Bucky saw some of the SHIELD agents edging out of the room and for a split second, loyalty to Carter be damned, he wanted to leave with them. Then Peirce turned and fixed both him and Steve with a calculating stare. “Sargent Jameson? Captain Stevens?”Looking up, Bucky caught Steve's bewildered shrug as he turned towards Peirce. Realistically there was no reason for Peirce to have any interest in either of them. Neither he or Steve were STRIKE agents and as far as anyone was aware they were on the helicarrier with express permission from Fury.“I hear you two are thinking of going into STRIKE.”Bucky could hear the capital letters of the word even as he saw Steve slink behind him and presumably shoot a bewildered glance to Fury. In some ways, Bucky wanted to turn around and give Steve a fond kiss, even as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. The man never knew how often other teams had tried to scoop the Commandos out from under him, just as he would never know that Bucky had to threaten to break a few fingers in the sniper corps to stay with Steve. Although, Bucky had to admit that most of the time when he was offered a transfer, it wasn't in front of his superior officer. Peirce was playing with fire, Bucky thought as he watched Fury twitch.“Maybe.” Thankfully the response didn’t come out as a question. In situations like these, it was better to let the inquirer do the questions, and confirm nothing. The end result was a neat and tidy information package with no strings attached.“Well, Ghost doesn’t often work alone.” Alexander began, his hand coming down to squeeze the man's shoulder.Normally, Bucky would grimace in sympathy for the man whose superiors were assholes, but this just seemed odd. The man didn’t even react to his name being spoken and if Bucky hadn't seen Ghost breathing, he wound have wondered if metal autonomous men had become normalized in the past few decades.“If you work well with him, maybe we could get the two of you transferred.” Peirce finished with a predatory leer.Maybe it was a good thing Bucky hadn't put his rifle down yet.Switching his gaze from the Undersecretary to the man called Ghost, Bucky could hear Fury sputtering indignantly in the background as Bucky resisted the urge to put a warning shot through the asshole's foot. The man looked nothing like Ollie. He was too bulky, too small, and too still. That wasn't even including the hood that covered most of the STRIKE agent’s face and the down right uncomfortable looking mask that covered both his nose and mouth.“If we're working with him, what's his name?” the question dropped before Bucky could think the words through and from the stormy expression that settled onto Peirce's face, it wouldn’t be a question that would be answered. Nor would the insolence be forgotten.“Ghost should do well enough. He answers to it.” Peirce answered snappishly before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the door, muttering under his breath about nosy agents and idiotic directors.Bucky almost felt sorry for the man when he saw the annoyed expression on Fury's face. Except, this was Carter’s Nicholas and Bucky had more loyalty then that.“Alright.” Fury began, a long suffering sigh ripping out of his throat as the agents began to filter back into the room. “Banner located Loki. The man seems to have gone and hid in Germany. I want him brought back, preferably in one piece. He owes us a pound of flesh for the agents he took.”Bucky had to hand it to the man, he certainly knew how to snarl orders and make you snap to attention when he fixed you with a glare. In direct insubordination, Bucky gave the man a lazy salute. “Sir, yes sir!” he barked.Steve choked on a snicker.There was of course, a way to check the ego of your superior without undermining him. Bucky did it all the time. It probably wasn't the nicest thing for him to do, but Bucky would rather have down to earth and reasonable superior then an idiot who would get everyone killed with his complex. There was also the need to make sure this mission didn’t turn into a revenge run. No mission could be considered the be all, end all. It put too much pressure on the troops what should have been a milk run became a suicide mission with no way out.Revenge runs ended with ice and pain, while suicide runs ended with looking down the barrel of his rifle, tracking the falling body of his best friend. Experience was a bitter pill and Bucky would never thrust it onto anyone.But still, it was a damned good thing Bucky had insisted they raid the armory, even if they did have to modify the uniform slightly by ripping off the SHIELD patches. Personally, Bucky liked the new uniforms, dark clothing matched with second hand, already broken in boots, and a good rifle for him and a handgun for Steve. Hopefully Steve wouldn’t be in the thick of the fighting, but if he was, Bucky was confident he could keep everyone off his back from a distance. Besides, Carter and Ollie had drilled hand to hand combat with Steve until the man could do it in his sleep. Not well, but when compared to Logan, Ollie, and Carter, nearly everyone was subpar.“Agent Romanov.” Fury barked out, his hands deep in his pockets as he turned to march out the door. “You bring them back.”At first Bucky was a little insulted at the order, until he saw the line of tension in the firebrand's jaw and suddenly Bucky had to wonder if this mission was personal. He might not trust her, but Bucky knew the look of someone who had lost more then a friend on the front lines.He saw that look in the mirror every day.Pushing off the wall, the Firebrand crooked a finger towards Bucky and Steve, a small smile curling around her lips. “Come on fossils, let’s get to the quinjet. Banner will forward us the address.”Bucky didn’t have time to reply before Steve was bouncing after the girl with an outrage cry. “We're kids! You heard Banner!”Shaking his head and shouldering his rifle, Bucky went to follow when a soft, “Sargent.” Caught his attention.Half turning, he was surprised to see Agent Coulson holding out a rather large round package. Baffled, Bucky could only stupidly stare at the man. He hadn't even heard the agent enter the room and with a package that size, it wasn’t as if he could easily sneak around.“Take this to Stevens.” Coulson commanded, his tired eyes lighting up with mirth when Bucky grabbed the package and grunted at the weight.Blinking, Bucky tapped the black cover and raised an eyebrow at the metallic ting. If it was possible, Coulson’s eyes lit up further. “I called in a few favours and had it delivered. Of course, it had to be repainted to help u keep the low profile, but I rather thought you would be more comfortable with him marching out with it.”Eyeing the man, Bucky lowered package to the ground and unzipped the top. A black edge stared up at him and hysterical laughter bubbled up in his throat. Of all the things to do…“Did you steal from a museum Agent?” Bucky asked in delighted disbelief. Carter was either going to hit the roof over this, or laugh hard enough to make herself sick.The corners of Coulson's mouth twitched and BUcky could clearly hear the laughter underscoring his tone. “Well, I prefer the term borrow, but I'm sure you could find a better use for it then letting it collect dust.”The damn thing was like a bloody boomerang, Bucky thought as he zipped the cover back up. It always returned to one of them eventually. Catching Coulson's eye, Bucky gave him a quick nod. “Thank you.”Coulson just shook his head. “Director Carter gave me a chance a long time ago, this is just repaying the favour.” For a long moment, Bucky thought the man was going to tack something else on to the end of the statement until the man slowly shook his head and looked over the buzzing agents with a shallow grin.Still, whatever the reason, Bucky could appreciate the fact his husband would now be armed and ready to go. Nodding at the agent one more time, Bucky turned and walked out, nearly jumping out of his skin when Ghost trailed quietly after him. It also didn’t escape his notice Coulson gave a long look at Ghost before shaking his head again and walking in the other direction.Uneasy, Bucky began to follow the faint sounds of Steve’s gentle ribbing. No doubt Steve had noticed Bucky wasn’t a step behind him and had continued to talk just so Bucky wouldn't  have to shamefully ask for directions to follow Captain bloody America. “So, what's your name, Ghost?” Bucky asked quietly, hoping that the man might respond now that his superior wasn’t in earshot.For a few steps, Bucky was afraid Ghost wasn't going to respond, until the man suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him into what appeared to be an empty briefing room. For a split second, Bucky just about whacked the shield over the man's head, but Ghost stumbled back, his hand dropping his wrist as if he had been burned.Then the mask hit the floor. With the man's hood still up, Bucky couldn’t tell any features but something in his gut churned.Something was wrong.Opening his mouth, Bucky was about to ask if the other man was okay, when Ghost stepped forward and peered up at his face. “Cannon?”The voice was soft and unmistakably female.Bucky just about hit the floor, so the instinctive response of “No, Buchanan or Bucky if you don’t mind.” Dropped out before he could bite his tongue. The next thought, was of course, “Rebecca?”Because, dear lord God, don’t let this be his little sister. His perfect little sister who, out of the three of them, had the nerve to hit their father back and scream to the rafters when the bastard had tried to take a belt to their Ma. Bucky's father was a right bastard and Ollie had never stood for him, but Becca. His little perfect Rebecca. Everyone loved Becca.Ghost didn’t respond and it was with trembling fingers that Bucky reached up to touch the hood. It couldn’t be Rebecca, the tone was all wrong. But he knew how voices changed due to age and stress. Rebecca would be an old lady now but if she was desperate, well…Look at what had happened to Steve.A bony little Punk halfway to his death bed marching out to war without hide or hair of any of his previous aliments. If a needle could do that to his Punk, what could it do to his little sister?But, Becca wouldn't be that desperate.Oh god, Becca couldn't have been that desperate for hellfire and pain.Bucky's thought's spiraled, his hand trembling in the air.What if Ghost wasn't Becca, but instead his niece?Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that, but he'd never forgive himself. Losing Ollie was bad enough, he didn’t think he could look Becca or her daughter in the eye and explain to either that the boy Becca had pinned after, had bleed out slowly at the bottom of a ravine while her brother walked away without a scratch.Oh God, Becca had been trying to figure out how to ask Ollie out for years. It hadn’t even dawned on Bucky until that moment that it wasn’t just him that had lost Ollie, Becca had too.He and Steve didn’t talk about it, but Ollie had taken his place in the line. Ollie was supposed to be their help from above but instead it was Bucky and he hadn't been able to pull the trigger.He had let Ollie die.The girl shied away from his touch and something in Bucky's heart broke. There were dames like Carter that were made for war, girls like the firebrand that marched because they believed in nothing else, and then there were the others.Bucky had seen enough shell shocked soldiers in his life to know this one needed R&R in the worst way possible.“Darling,” because this wasn’t Rebecca but God that voice… “go home.” It was the only mercy he could offer her, because God knew he couldn’t pull the trigger.“Cannon.”Bucky closed his eyes against that nick name. Only Ollie and Rebecca had ever called him that. Ollie said it was good to learn to respond to multiple names, it made packing up and leaving easier if they didn’t have to train themselves to leave behind a name. Rebecca had stuttered on his name as a child and while ‘Bucky' might have been Stevie's, ‘Cannon’ was hers.“Go home Ghost, there's nothing for you here.” At this point he wasn’t sure if he was talking to the still cowering girl or the phantoms that had taken up residency in his mind.“2, 17/ 9, 1/ 20, 23, 21, 1/ 24, 7, 2, 14, 5?”The numbers threw him for a loop but what had Bucky opening his eyes again was the iron in the tone. “What?” he croaked.“Cannon.” The girl growled, her hand snaking up to grab his wrist.For a moment, Bucky could only stare. Her fingers were metal. It wasn’t that the girl had on a metal glove or that she was wearing thin, flexible armor. Shooting the girl a quick look, Bucky gently turned the girl's hand over and brushed her sleeve back. The part of him that appreciated new technology and medical advances wanted to weep as his fingers trailed up her arm to her shoulder.A whole arm.Gone.If this technology had been discovered during the war…Bucky wanted to be sick just thinking about it. The transition to civilian life would have been easier, but on the war front? Well, the girl was head shy already, Bucky couldn’t imagine a whole platoon having replaced limbs and the desperation to get out. To leave. To go home.The war would have dragged on infinitely with this technology, the spark that made good men would have been ground beneath the uncaring heel of bored men with nothing to do but create wars.“Cannon.” The girl murmured, her hand leaving his grasp with a gentle tug. “24, 7, 2, 14, 5/ 24, 5, 13/ 16, 11, 18, 21.”“I don’t understand.” The admission was dragged out from behind his teeth as Ghost tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Who are you?”Because this wasn’t Becca but no one else called him Cannon.Ghost stilled, her fingers twitching. “Ghost.” She said slowly, her head tilting under the hood. Some how the girl managed to convey without saying another word that she thought Bucky was being extraordinarily stupid.For a long moment, neither of them moved and then the girl dragged up the sleeve on her remaining arm with a rough yank. “214781.” She whispered.Bucky was going to be sick. Someone had marked her. Someone had marked his niece, -because who else could she be, and if that meant he had to adopt her with Steve to get her out of this hell hole, then he was going to. And if Carter knew anything about this, then wasn’t sure he could stay under her roof any longer. Because this was his family. His niece. Little Becca who screamed at their father and smiled through bruised cheeks and split lips. This girl was his and God help anyone who tried to take her from him.But someone had marked his niece like an animal for slaughter. Someone had held her down (because no Barnes would be tagged willingly) and forced her to think that she was less. That she wasn’t human.During the war, when Bucky finally knew Ollie's code name, he had thought it fitting. Ollie was a ghost. Something that had enough force to stick around even after death. A vengeful spirit that would protect even the resident snipers. Now, he finally understood the revulsion Ollie had sometimes spat the name Ghost. A ghost, Bucky was beginning to realize as he stared at his niece, was the shell left behind. It was whatever remained of the soul of the person it had once been.“Oh, Darling,” Bucky sighed, wanting to tug down her hood and smuggle her off the helicarrier, “just let me save the world. Then we'll come save you. Just me and your Uncle Stevie. Okay?” his smile was wobbly and with every word something cracked in his chest. He had made a promise to help save the world, it was just bad timing that he had found something worth more.This was going to be a promise he could keep.He had too.The girl seemed to perk up, the edges of the hood fluttering. “Punk?”If anything, that name cemented the girl's identity. Only a handful of people called Steve punk, it wasn’t something that the shorty would allow anyone to use affectionately except for the Barnes'.“Yeah,” Bucky whispered as he opened the door and tugged the girl into the hall with him, “Just Punk and Cannon.”…***…Stepping onto the quinjet was only possible because Ghost walked up the ramp without a fuss and there was no way in hell Bucky was going to let her go alone, fear of planes be damned. He wasn’t going to let his baby sister down again.In the cockpit, Steve was still annoying the Firebrand and whatever held their attention was engrossing enough neither turned around when Bucky confirmed he was on board.“You're telling me that you have a computer, in your pocket, and all you use it for is to look at cat photos.” Steve deadpanned from where he was leaning over the firebrand's chair.Bucky just about choked when the firebrand gave an indignant screech and tried to explain the whole point of cell phones in a way that didn’t involve the internet. From the smirk on Steve's face, this wasn’t the first time, and Bucky wasn't about to interrupt his fun to point out that the firebrand had already seen them use a cell phone. Well, Steve had held up a flip phone and the smart phone had stayed in the pocket, but who was Bucky to snitch?“You know what? Sit down, Stevens. It’s a long ride and we wouldn’t want you grandpas to fall asleep before we get there.” The firebrand simpered over her shoulder as she eased the quinjet into the air.With a huff of laughter, Steve dropped down into the seat beside Bucky and strapped in, his fingers absently threading through Bucky's.“So, why did we change our names again?” Steve asked, his legs stretched out across the floor.Absently, Bucky flicked his wrist. “Safer.”Because Ollie had always been a paranoid bastard and god knew Bucky had actually picked up a few of his habits. Peggy may have made them new ID cards but BUcky wasn't above forging his own with another name. It was easier to hide as a Buchanan Jameson and Grant Stevens then it was to hide as Sargent James Barnes and Captain Bloody America.Across from him, Ghost buckled into the seat and held onto the strap as if her life depended on it. Honestly, Bucky didn't blame his niece.Oh God, he was an uncle. Rebecca had had children. There were little Barnes’ running around the world and he had missed out on their lives.He had left Rebecca alone to raise her babies.He had left Rebecca alone.He was a terrible brother.Was her husband a good man? Did she get knocked up by accident? Did someone make her an honest woman? Did Becca work through the pregnancy? Did Bucky have more family he didn't know about?Was she happy?What if lover boy was like their father, a complete bastard that didn't show his colors until it was far too late for their Ma to leave?What if...“Cannon?”There were hands on his knees and in a distant sort of way, Bucky realized he couldn’t breathe. Blood rushed through his ears and his vision flickered. He had to get Ollie to check up on this guy. He had to get Ollie to look into his network and check up on Becca. He had to make sure she was okay.He had to get Ollie to...No.He had to...Ollie.Becca.His niece...His niece was sitting at his knees, her fingers digging into his kneecaps.He was going to be sick.This was his niece and he couldn’t see her face. Someone had taken her arm and replaced it with metal, and worst of all, they had made her a number. They had made his niece, Rebecca's baby girl, into a bloody number.“Please tell me you were happy.” Bucky gasped, his hands coming up to trail across her cheeks. He wouldn’t take down her hood, not with the flinch she gave at his touch, but God he couldn’t touch metal again. He didn’t want to feel his failures as pressure plates on his niece's arm. Except this was so much worse. The calluses on his fingers caught on pocketed scars and the knowledge the arm was the worst of the damage flew out the window in the face of the realization, someone had cut his niece’s face.No wonder she wouldn’t pull down the hood.Fury boiled up in his veins and it took everything Bucky had not to pull the girl towards him. She wouldn’t react well to a hug, not when she could probably see the anger in his eyes and the tension in his hands.If there was some thing his mother had always said, it was the Bucky carried anger the same way as his father.It wasn’t something he was proud about.“Were you happy?” he asked again, forcing himself to keep his tone light. He didn’t dare ask if she was happy now, he had failed spectacularly in that, but if she was happy then, before everything had gone to hell, then maybe there was still hope.The girl grabbed onto his wrists. “Blij?”The floor tilted under his feet and Bucky caught himself on Steve's shoulder.Oh God, his sister had married a Dutchman. His Irish-American sister had married a Dutchman.Ollie would have died laughing.“James?”Bucky's gaze slid from the girl who was still half curled on his knees, to his husband. Steve had called him James. Steve never called him James. Steve only called him James when something had gone wrong.It was okay though, because Ollie would cover for him. Ollie would guard the rear as Bucky coddled his niece and rained hellfire onto the animals that had hurt her. The heat that shuddered through his veins was nothing compared to the sheer pain he would pound into the skin of the animals that had marked his niece.His jaw shuddering under the strain, Bucky managed to croak out a quick, “Steve?”Because, Ollie wasn't there. Ollie wasn't there to watch his back and he needed to talk to Steve. Bucky needed to talk to Steve because Ollie wasn't there and someone needed to know what was going on to get Becca's baby out of the line of fire.“Bucky, what happened?” Steve sounded strained and all at once Bucky realized Steve had no idea how to be on the other end. Steve never had to deal with Bucky or Ollie being sick. He had no clue what panic and the inability to breathe looked like on other people.He had never had to learn.Grabbing onto Steve's fingers again, Bucky gazed down at Ghost. “Steve,” it was a miracle his voice held, “Rebecca had a baby.”Bucky had to hand it to Steve, he wasn’t slow on the uptake. The horrified gaze that turned to the girl would both cause him to laugh and haunt his nightmares for years to come.“Becca had a baby?” Steve whispered, his gaze pinned on the black hood Ghost still had covering her features. “What's his name?”“Her.” Bucky muttered softly, his hands spasming slightly as Ghost hummed.“Oh.” Steve seemed gobsmacked, his eyes wide and panicked as Ghost shifted. “Oh no.”“Stevie?” Ghost murmured, her voice slightly confused as she reached out with metal fingers to poke Steve's hand.Bucky saw the exact moment Steve understood. No one sounded like that and stayed deadly enough to be considered any form of intelligence agent. Steve closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his jaw clenching. “The camps?”It took a long moment before Bucky could respond and in the silence, he watched as Ghost straightened Steve's fingers and lined her palm up against his. After a moment, the girl dragged a metal finger across the tiny scars on Steve's hand.“I think so.” Bucky eventually murmured, his head thumping against the hull. He knew more about the camps then Steve did, simply by virtue of having been captured twice. While Peggy had been adamant about the fact the camps had been eradicated, Bucky was beginning to doubt a lot of what she had said.Because, Bucky had seen the soldiers Hydra and dragged through the camps and Bucky had no doubt he was looking at the final product. Philips would never have allowed ‘damaged goods' onto the front line, but Bucky knew the old rumours. It wasn’t a secret that every country had been trying to build the perfect soldier. Steve was the closest anyone had managed and in the footnotes of history, Bucky was sure there were notes from both Howard and the German doctor crying about how much of an idiot Steve could be.Meanwhile, the world had half a century to perfect the torture needed to create a super soldier (and yes, it was torture. The three of them couldn’t have gotten as good as they had without hellfire in their veins and the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads). All Bucky could hope for was that his niece was the only one. That there wasn’t a camp but instead a trial run and Ghost had been the only survivor.Not everyone had the drive to stay on the straight and narrow and God knew it was hard enough to kill him and Steve. Bucky couldn’t imagine having to try and take down a demented version of themselves.“Can we go sleep for a week?” Bucky whined, absently watching as the girl took the shield from his hands and sank back down into a seat across from him.Ghost's clever fingers trailed over the zipper and all at once Bucky realized Steve hadn’t seen his shield yet.“Uh, Steve.” Bucky gasped as he jerked forward, his fingers just brushing Ghost's as she pulled the shield free with a triumphant shout.“Is that my…?” Steve trailed off, his mouth going slack as Ghost knocked the shield with metal fingers.The resulting ping reminded Bucky enough of a bullet, that he instinctively flinched. If he didn’t know better the girl smirked as she dragged the shield out of the carrying case.“They painted her!” Steve screeched.Blinking, Bucky had to acknowledge that whoever painted it had the right idea, if piss poor execution. The glimpse he had on the heilcarrier had been of black edging, he hadn't realized the whole shield had been painted black. In theory, it looked nice, and Bucky knew Steve was more annoyed because it wasn’t him that had painted the shield.Honestly, artists.“Not even Howard would paint her.” Steve whispered, his gaze flicking over the vibranium weapon.All at once, it was as if someone had punched Bucky in the gut. The last paint job had been before the Alps, before the train. Before Ollie had…“Oh.” Bucky began, his hand squeezing Steve's twitching fingers. “I'm sure Ollie wouldn’t mind.”  He finished lamely, thoughts of flamethrowers and screams echoing through his brain.Ghost sniffed, and all at once, she took the arm guard for the shield, strapped it to her forearm, ran a finger along the edge of the shield, and laughed. Now, Bucky knew how to identify all sorts of laughter. There was Steve's holy shit we lived, Howard’s it worked!, Ollie's vengeance is mine, and his own kill me now laughter. Ghost's wasn’t any of the above, but Bucky recognized it all the same. This laugh was the tried true version of insane chaos the Commandos specialized in. Bucky didn’t think he'd ever get Jacques’ chuckles out of his nightmares. So, he thought it rather smart that he grab Steve and haul him to the floor. At the same time, Ghost threw the shield in one fluid movement.The firebrand cursed and the quinjet dived. Bucky's heart jumped into his throat and he barely followed how the shield bounced off the wall, ceiling, and floor before metal fingers clicked around the shield and Ghost slid the shield onto the arm guard.“Yasha!?” The firebrand shouted, Bucky barely able to see her twisting in the chair as she wrestled the quinjet back onto course.“We dropped the shield.” Bucky shouted back as Steve cursed up a blue streak and pushed his way out from under Bucky's arm.Leaning against the wall, Ghost looked far too proud of herself as she trailed her fingers over a now silver shield, the only remnants of the paint were faint chips on the ground.“Didn’t that trick take you weeks to learn?” Bucky asked faintly, his eyes glued to the way Ghost preened under their attention.“Coulson?” The firebrand threw out, her voice a little too tense considering she was flying the thrice damned contraption.Since there was little else to do but confirm the theory, Bucky shouted back affirmation and held in a snort when the firebrand dissolved into muttered death threats and affectionate cursing. Or at least, Bucky hoped it was affectionate cursing or he'd have to call Fury when they landed and warn him to hide one of his agents.Sliding up to his feet, Steve held out a hand towards Ghost, his back one tense line. “Yeah, that took me weeks. It annoyed the hell out of Howard when the paint would ‘flake’ away hours after he had painted it.”Stepping forward, Steve grabbed onto the edge of the shield and said the oddest thing Bucky had heard all week. “I name thee Blinky?”What was odder yet was the way Ghost squealed and threw her arms around Steve's neck. “11/ 25, 17, 12/ 17, 11, 12!”Steve sobbed into her hair.

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Steve tucked his nose into Ollie's shoulder and tried not to cry as the scent of antiseptic and blood made him choke. Half forgotten memories of finding Ollie curled up on the fire escape, lips blue and dried blood flaking off pale skin, reared its head. True, Ollie had always had the scent of blood clinging to his skin, but the antiseptic and sterile bleach was Steve’s mother's scent. Ollie had always smelled of steel and alcohol with a hint of sugar mixed in for good measure.Between Bucky sneaking in Steve's bed throughout their entire childhood and Ollie falling asleep in the bedside chair on cold winter nights, Steve knew both their scents better then his own. Besides, he'd never tell Bucky, but even two years after the serum, it was easier for him to tell a person by touch and scent. Sight helped in drawing and gauging distances, but people? No. Steve needed something a little more personal then that. Being too sick to even force his eyes open had taught him to hold onto whatever he could while he still can.But, Ollie's scent was all wrong.He was supposed to smell like sugar, alcohol, and steel. He was supposed to have a voice rough from years of choking himself trying to make it deeper. He had narrow hips and tiny shoulders, a fragile little thing wrapped in knives and backed by righteous anger.On the bad nights, when Bucky was forced to hold Ollie down while he screamed, eyes wide open but never seeing a damned thing when the nightmares started, Bucky had despaired over there being two idiots with death wishes. But Steve had always known Ollie didn’t have a death wish, or at least, no more of a death wish then Steve. Which, when the pain of his rickety spine and poor lungs had him gasping, unable to pick himself up off the floor, didn’t mean much in the least. Steve's death wish was to keep living the same life he always had, while Ollie's death wish was to make sure there was food on the table and a roof over their heads to guarantee their continued existence.Steve wasn’t blind to the fact Ollie would do anything to keep him and Bucky safe. Nor was he blind to the fact Ollie would drop everything and protect Bucky long before he would step up to save Steve. Honestly, Steve had always wondered if Ollie had seen protecting Steve as some sort of obligation while protecting Bucky was a privilege. That wasn’t to say Ollie didn’t help Steve. He was always there to haul Steve out of fights, to grab his medication, to threaten, holler, and punch whoever made Steve's life difficult. But, Steve had always wondered if Ollie did it so that Bucky didn’t have too.Steve knew that Ollie might have been his brother, but Bucky was Ollie's best friend. And Ollie had a special sort of selflessness that made it so Bucky never knew. Bucky never knew what Ollie did in the back alleys and broken down buildings. Bucky never knew what Ollie did on the nights he would drag himself in at 4-5 a.m. and in some ways, Steve didn’t think Bucky could ever know. Not with the haunted look that made Ollie's eyes look darker every time he crawled through the window.So, no. Steve didn’t think Ollie had a death wish or he would have pranced around the building in a skirt.Steve was an artist, not an idiot. He knew what muffled monthly screams into a pillow and the sudden disappearance of his painkillers meant. His mother was a nurse after all and it didn’t take much to put two and two together. Scrubbed sheets and long bandages that never left Ollie's chest. Empty alcohol bottles when pain medication was not an expense they could afford. Lingering hands on satin skirts and pretty lace. The way Ollie wouldn’t date, no matter who Bucky tried to set him up with.No, Steve wasn’t an idiot.However, it also helped that Steve had accidentally walked in on Ollie once when he had fallen asleep in the bath. In all honesty, Steve hadn’t even known Ollie was home. He had thought Ollie had been bunking with Bucky for the past week, so knocking on the bathroom door when it was shut wasn’t even something Steve thought he had to do, not when his mother was still on shift and he was supposed to be home alone. But there, sprawled against the dark tub, was Ollie. It was pure luck Steve hadn’t screamed bloody blue murder. Just because Steve didn’t lust after girls didn’t mean he was ignorant of what a girl looked like. Although, he had to admit, for a split second he had panicked and thought he had wandered into the wrong apartment.But, that was Ollie's face and Steve had backed out of the bathroom so fast he was surprised the air displacement didn’t wake Ollie up. Instead, wary that Ollie would slip down into the water and drown, Steve had walked to the front door and opened and closed it in quick succession.The strangled scream from the bathroom had done more to assure Steve that Ollie was okay then anything else.It wasn’t until later that evening, when Steve found Ollie asleep against the brick wall on the fire escape that he allowed himself to think about that fact Ollie, spitfire and furious Ollie, was apparently a girl. Steve knew what it was like to be born into a body that didn’t fit. A body that couldn't keep up to the demands he asked of it. A body that made his skin itch and frustration boil through his veins. Steve didn’t understand why Ollie didn’t want to be a girl, but if he hadn't felt safe enough to display it in their home, Steve wasn’t going to push.He was the last person to judge Ollie for his secrets, even if it meant running interference and keeping Bucky away so Ollie could lay down and breathe.Besides, Ollie hadn’t said a word when Steve had confessed that he wanted Bucky. Ollie had been the one who made sure the girls Bucky flirted with never said a word about how Bucky's hand lingered on Steve's arm just as much as their own. It was Ollie who made sure Mr. Chase's apartment complex never asked too many questions about why ‘two' boys were living together. And years later it was Ollie that had made sure it was his mother's ring that settled onto his finger when Bucky had swore to live out the remainder of their lives together.Steve had always known Ollie was the best person he had ever met and if keeping Ollie happy meant biting his tongue, Steve had no problem with that. His mother had made him swear to keep Ollie safe, to protect him. For the first half of his life, Steve could do little more then make sure there was food on the table and the first aid kit was easily accessible. For years, keeping Ollie safe meant pretending he didn’t exist, that everything that proved he was real was scattered across the apartment and claimed by him or Bucky when people came knocking. When the war hit, keeping Ollie safe had become something a little more dangerous. Instead of muttered death threats and an instinctive need to hide everything Ollie owned, it was standing against Philips and every other superior who wanted to mark Ollie down as dead. It was knowing that Ollie had been doing under the table deals and could blend into any crowd. It was knowing that Ollie was coming back and there was nothing that was going to stop him (so, sir, stop writing that letter this instant!).It meant turning his eyes away when ‘Olivia’ found ‘her' way onto the Howling Commandos payroll.It was knowing that Ollie would be the one to finish any mission, no matter the cost.It meant knowing that it would be kinder to offer him ‘mercy’ then to drag him back to the tents if he was ever shot.It was knowing that he couldn’t drag himself out into the Alps to gather Ollie's remains because at least with his body missing, no one could smear his name.It was keeping his mouth shut when Bucky raged that he hadn’t taken the shot.It was closing the sketchbook on Ollie's doodles when Steve stumbled across video games and pop culture.It was pretending that pieces didn’t slide into place when little girls curled onto his shoulder and signed with a fluidity Ollie had slowly lost over the years.It was holding Ollie to his shoulder with a gentleness that hadn't come naturally after the serum burned through his veins and fighting down the urge to scream because Ollie's scent was all wrong.Because this was Ollie.That was Ollie's voice, his true voice, not the roughed up version. And that was Ollie's crooked grin. But that wasn’t Ollie's hand and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Bucky had felt under that hood.Because this was Ollie and that meant Ollie hadn't died.Steve hadn’t even bothered to look for him. He hadn’t fought to find his body. Hadn’t even looked to see if there was even the smallest chance Ollie could have lived. Instead, he had egged Bucky onto a suicide run and they had crashed the plane. They had crashed a plane and Ollie had been left behind in enemy territory and God knew who found her.And someone put her through the camps.Someone had tore down the man that had saved Steve and Bucky, god only knew how many times, and built up a hollow shell. Because, this was Ollie. This was Ollie but wasn't at the same time.“Blinky?” Steve murmured into Ollie's ear, fishing into his pocket for a pen as he leaned back. Ollie seemed to look at him bemusedly as Steve tore the cap off the pen and drew a quick ‘pac-man' ghost onto his palm.Holding out his hand, Steve watched with his heart in his throat as Ollie looked between the hastily drawn ghost and Steve's face.Steve needed to be able to touch his hood. Steve needed to see what had happened to him.“My Punk.” Ollie cried gleefully, his head twitching to the side when Steve grabbed for the fringe of his hood. Before the war, the scowl Ollie shot him would have been enough to make Steve wilt and scamper away, now it just made him angry.“18,17/ 24,7,2,14,5/ 2,17,1,13,18,12/ 20,23,21,1/ 12,24,5,12.” Ollie hissed as he spun out from under Steve’s outstretched arm and grabbed onto the hull, his head tilted towards the agent in the front of the plane.Steve barley had time to react before Agent Romanoff was shouting back “We're here and Grandpa, it doesn’t look good!”The answering snarl that fell out of Ollie's mouth made Steve flinch back. Ollie had always been, wild, but feral? Ollie hadn't been feral. Hell, half the time the boy was whacking Steve's elbows and pushing back his shoulders with a not-so-quiet grumble about idiotic men and dunces for captains. Table manners had been important for Ollie and etiquette had been all but shoved down Steve's throat.In retrospect, it was probably the only thing that kept him from being eaten alive by politicians and mad, but well meaning, scientists. His mother had done her best but with three boys in one apartment, manners had often gone out the window when her back was turned. Sometimes literally. Oliver ‘Manners' Bakker liked to dramatically dive out of the window and run screaming down the fire escape when his mother picked up a wooden spoon and jokingly shook it at the boy.Steve might not have paid attention to etiquette prior to the war, but being able to charm crowds certainly came in handy. By charming a crowd, Steve gained an unexpected place in the hearts of the public. But charming a politician? Suddenly Steve couldn’t go anywhere without under the table deals and hard-ass bargaining that made Ollie look like a fuzzy kitten. And God help him if he used the wrong spoon at dinner.So, a feral Ollie?In some ways that was worse then waking up in the future.“Gramps? You hear me?”The shout came down as if it was in a far off tunnel and it was only when Ollie slipped even further back, one hand landing on a control panel that Steve reacted. “Ghost!”God knew he wasn’t going to be screaming Ollie while Bucky looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Except, instead of freezing like any sane person, Ollie flipped him off.And then things got a little hectic.…***…“This.” Bucky snarled into Steve's ear, his fingers slapping down buckles as he roughly pushed Steve towards the open hatch. “Is exactly how I felt watching you through the war.”“But!” Steve stuttered, his words tripping over each other. “That’s not. No. She. But. PLANE!” he ended weakly with a gesture to the hatch.Bucky whacked him on the back with a ruthless grin. “Yup.”“Fuck.” Steve snarled as he tightened his grip on the shield.“Anytime now!” Romanov yelled back to him.Steve didn’t even bother to look up as he threw himself out the back of the quinjet. If it wasn’t for the fact Steve was almost certain Ollie had gotten a serum at some point (don’t think of the camps. Don’t think of the camps. Dear lord God don’t let it be the camps) he would have been screaming at the stupid stunt. As it was, Bucky had to hold Steve back and shove a chute onto his back before Steve could follow. Because Ollie had jumped out of the plane, with out a parachute.Wind whistled past his ears and Steve didn’t bother to yank the chute, not when there was a plaza under him and the ground was coming up too quickly. Instead, he hit the ground with a roll, the shield held out to absorb most of the impact.Stumbling up to his feet, Steve hunkered behind the shield as he tried to force the ringing out of his ears. “Stand down, Loki.” Steve said, long used to the way a shout felt when it tore out of his throat, even if he couldn’t hear it.A shot pinged off the pavement a solid three meters away and Steve rolled to the side, already turning as he mentally traced the bullet's path back to the roof of the building behind him.On top of the building, Bucky hoisted his rifle and twirled his finger in a circle, quickly jerking it towards the other side of the roof.Steve snapped out a short wave as he bolted around the building, a flush heating up his collar. Apparently landing on the wrong side of the plaza and in a back alley was just his luck when dealing with the newest decade.At least Bucky still guarded his back.Ollie had better have made it down safely, God knew he was better at falling then Steve was. The thought made him recoil, the joking tone falling flat inside of his own head.Too soon.It was far too soon.Except Ollie wasn’t dead and Bucky was…“Kneel!”*Steve tripped, the shout making him stumble as he was wrenched away from his thoughts. The shield tumbled out of his hand, each connection it made with the ground giving it’s own jarring clang.Bucky was going to shoot him for this, Steve just knew it.At the front of the plaza, Loki paced, his skin deathly pale and the bags under his eyes pronounced enough Steve could see it from where he was still sprawled out on the fringe of the crowd. No matter what Bucky was going to say to him later about this, Steve was sprawled, not groveling on his hands and knees.“Is this not simpler?”* Loki lectured, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with enough selfish pride Steve’s knuckles itched to punch the smug bastard. “Is this not your natural state?”*Alright, screw taking Loki in to SHIELD in one piece, there were going to be bruises marring his pretty little face.“It is the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation.”*Steve hadn’t even taken shit like this from Father O'Neill and he had fond memories of marching out of that church with Bucky in tow, a snarl making people stumble out of his way. How Ollie of all people hadn’t shot the smug prick, Steve didn’t know.“The bright lure of freedom…”*Steve hiked up the shield as he bounced up to his feet, half bent over as he scurried behind a garbage can. There was no need to give away the game yet. Kneeling, Steve risked a glance up to Bucky, only, his husband wasn’t looking at him. His husband wasn’t even lining up his sights on the asshole in green.“What?” Steve muttered, his head jerking to the side as he tried to follow Bucky's line of sight.“You did not kneel.”  Loki almost sounded hurt, and from Steve's vantage point, all he could see was a clenched hand on a golden sceptre.Then the man's words hit home and Steve just about stood straight up.“Oliver Jacob Bakker, you little son of a bitch.” Steve snarled furiously as he pivoted and leaned around the other side of the garbage can.There Ollie stood, his hood still up and one hand held gently against the elbow of an older gentleman. Frantically, Steve gestured for Ollie to kneel, to back away. Ollie worked in the shadows, for him to be in the front was all sorts of wrong.No wonder Bucky wouldn’t shoot.The man in the plaza shook his head slowly, one hand reaching over to pat Ollie's shoulder with a trembling, but gentle, sort of fondness. “Not to men like you.”*His accent made the words tremble and Steve didn’t think it was a coincidence that both men grabbed at their left arms and stared down the lunatic with disappointment rather then fear.Steve didn’t want to think about what that meant.(Don’t think of the camps. Don’t think about the silent screams Ollie gave when he crashed in the barracks. Ollie is okay. He lived. He's right there. As long as he stays in your sight, he’s okay. Ollie knows what he's doing. Ollie will be okay. Just don’t think of the camps!)Loki recoiled, a full body jerk that made him rock back on his heels. His fingers twitched on the sceptre and for a split second, Steve thought the sceptre was going to fall.“There are no men like me.”* Loki drawled, but his fingers were still loose on the sceptre and if Steve didn’t know better, he thought the man was pouting.The old man nodded once, his jaw set as he tilted his gaze down to Ollie, who was still holding onto his left arm. In some ways, Steve thought the moment had become fragile. A second frozen in time as the old man directed what happened next. Slowly, the old man’s hand brushed up Ollie's sleeve, pausing on something Steve couldn’t see from his angle. He didn’t dare look up to see if Bucky had seen through his scope. For the first time, the old man straightened his spine and Steve saw steel. Then old man stepped forward, his arm thrown out to cover Ollie. “There will always be men like you.”*The old man had no need to spit the sentence, not when his slow drawl made each word drop through the air like stones in a lake, the ripples causing the crowd to glance at each other.And one by one, the crowd began to stand.Stepping up, Steve held the shield at his side and stared at the lunatic who, instead of fleeing, was sputtering at the crowd. “You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everyone else, we ended up disagreeing.”* Steve rumbled amiably, his gaze still half pinned on where Ollie was now hidden in the crowd. “It didn’t end well for him.”Steve at least got the satisfaction of seeing the lunatic jump as if stung, the sceptre slipping in his grasp as he spun to face Steve, a snarl now settled onto his face.“You know nothing!” Loki shouted, his hand sweeping out over the crowd. “Nothing at all!”“No. He doesn’t.” Bucky's voice scuttled over the crowd and Steve just about slammed the shield over Bucky's head as his husband appeared at his elbow. “But, I have to say, by all accounts, Joey, the stage show Hitler, was just as much of a bastard as the grand idiot himself. I mean, some of the stories I got told about what he tried to do to the show girls? Absolutely distasteful.” Bucky mused aloud, his gaze far away as he shouldered his rifle.Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to ask how Bucky got down from the roof as quickly as he had. As it was, Steve was willing to keep his mouth shut for now. Bucky's gaze was far too steely and his mouth was set into a determined line. Slowly, Bucky raised up his pistol and smiled. Without asking, Steve slipped against his side, the shield up and ready to block whatever was slung at them.This wasn’t going to end well.Out of the corner of his eye, Steve watched as the crowd began to, impossibly, orderly disperse. Figures on the edge of the plaza gestured for people to come closer and one by one, the crowd began to creep into the shadows framing the open square.“Loki. None of us know anything. Put down the sceptre and why don’t we try and figure it out.” Steve tried when it seemed Bucky wasn’t going to say anything. Besides, it was better keep the attention on him, the man with a shield (not a plan, that stupid song was not worth the teasing that came with it) then the people fleeing to safety.If this had been seven months ago, Steve wouldn’t have tried to talk things out. There wouldn’t have been time. Good men didn’t exist when there was a war going on. But there were hostages and God knew what Ollie would think if this became a fire fight with him caught in the middle.Loki seemed to waver, his fingers flexing on the sceptre. “Are you…” The man paused and for moment, Steve swore his eyes flickered green in the dusk. “Are you a good man?”Steve just about choked, his ears registering the odd tone on the word even as hours upon hours of philosophical debates with Ollie filtered through his mind. Ollie had always slurred on the nights when he got real drunk, that Steve was a good man. The only good man. Steve had never agreed. He had too short a fuse, too much anger, and sometimes he focused on all the wrong things.But Ollie?If Steve was a good man, then Ollie was the best. Ollie cleaned up messes, gave second chances, told stories to kids, and protected Steve and Bucky even when they didn’t need it. Steve's mother might have taught him a moral code but it was Ollie that helped him up keep it. Bucky thought in revenge and protection for what was his. Ollie thought prevention and networks. Bucky wanted Steve to be the best he could be. Ollie never expected him to be any less.“I'm not a perfect soldier. If that’s what you're asking.” Steve could feel the corners of his mouth curl at the familiar report, even as he felt Bucky stifle a snicker beside him.No, Steve was not a perfect soldier.Ollie would have killed him if he had been. Besides, Peggy had decked Private Hodge and Steve had no doubt she was aching to repeat the experience.But, it didn’t seem Loki was asking him. Instead, the man's head was tilted to the side, his gaze marred by shadow. Then there was figure standing in front of Loki, head tilted back, a braid pouring out of the bottom of the hood.“No.” Ollie said, the word flat.Then he slammed a foot down on top of Loki's. The man yelped and Ollie slipped forward, right elbow coming up and smashing into Loki's nose. Loki doubled over and Ollie grabbed the sceptre while simultaneously kneeing him in the stomach.Loki hit the ground with a thud, one hand covering his nose, the other clawing at the dirt.“How's that for kneeling?” Ollie snarled, the braid flicking out as he turned and swung the sceptre like a bat, the flat edge clocking Loki upside the head hard enough he slumped to the ground, unconscious.Distantly, Steve heard Bucky say, “I have got to talk to Becca.” as he holstered the pistol.Still frozen by Bucky's side, Steve was caught between screaming, “That's not Becca's kid.”, “Ollie what do you think you're doing, of course you're a good man!, and Jesus H. Christ you just hit a goddamned home run!But what he ended up saying was, “Does anyone else hear music?”Because hearing a rift similar to the one Peggy had used as an alarm clock on the days she was particularly annoyed with two super soldiers and the general state of the modern world, was enough to make Steve wary.Of course, Bucky was the one who reacted first, his rifle swinging up as he pivoted and lined up a shot. Except, no shot came.“That is way better then a flying car.” Bucky said, his words dripping with so much awe, Steve had to turn around and take his eyes off Ollie and her prisoner.“…you've been… THUNDERSTRUCK!”Steve blinked at the red and gold automan. “Do you think Howard knew about this?” he said carefully, one hand reaching into his pocket for his phone.Peggy had said it was good to get in the habit of taking picture of things he didn’t understand or just wanted to draw later. Most of the time Steve forgot, but he figured Howard wouldn’t let him live this down if he didn’t report that someone had one upped him.The music died all at once and the figure dropped heavily to the ground. “J.A.R.V.I.S., I thought you said there was a fight.”The voice was expelled through speakers and if Peggy hadn't assured him that robots and machines couldn’t have emotions, then Steve would have thought the automan was pouting, or at the very least, confused. Subtlety, Steve kept the phone near his pocket and took a picture, dropping the phone back into the pocket without a word.The automan shook its head and the facemask flipped up, exposing a man inside. “Well, it looks like someone did their job and took down Reindeer Games.” The man said absently, one hand dismissing Loki and Ollie, as Ollie leaned down and poked the unconscious man on the side of the head.“And how do you two feel that a girl took down Reindeer Games before you could land a hit?” the man taunted as he turned towards Steve.Steve blinked even as Bucky began to bounce in place, muttering under his breath about gravitational pull and thrusters. Slowly, Steve pointed a finger up to the quinjet that had finally come back around. “I'm just consulting.” Steve admitted as Ollie hauled the lunatic to his feet and slung him over his shoulder. “Honestly, I think you made more of a scene then I did.”The man grinned. “I did, didn’t I?” he positively preened.Steve blinked again. “And you are?”Because God damnit, maybe he should have been reading more news reports then fooling around with art tools and pop culture. Although, if he had, Steve might have missed the appalled expression that slammed over the man's face. “I am Ironman.” He said dramatically.Steve half expected him to strike a pose.At this point, Steve figured his default response to anything he didn’t understand about the new decade was going to be a blink and a slight shake of his head.The so-called Ironman narrowed his eyes. “You know. Tony Stark. Playboy billionaire?” he half sang as if he were a cheeky schoolboy.The metaphorical lightbulb went off over Steve's head as Bucky snapped his fingers. “Yeah, you’re Carter’s godson!” Tony’s mouth didn’t flop open, but Steve figured that was only because Bucky didn’t give him a chance to react. “I thought you were younger! Or, I mean, Carter always speaks as if you're a knee-high.”And God knew how Bucky wasn’t losing his mind over the fact Anthony Stark, Howard's little boy, was actually older then them. Because, Steve was stuck staring at Tony and wondering how the hell he had missed that much of everyone's life. It was one thing to see the age lines in Peggy's face , it was quiet another to see Howard's son fly down out the sky like some demented avenging angel screaming something about thunder and fights.Tony sputtered for a moment and, seeing the poor boy flounder, Steve decided to give him a break. It was easier to tease the poor boy (man?) then it was to think about the fact the world had gone on without them. “Bucky,” he stage whispered, giving Tony a conspiratorial wink, “I think Howard knows about the suit.”“Bucky!” Tony shrieked, his hands twitching as he stared at Steve and Bucky. “Captain?”Steve watched as Bucky shook his head in mock despair, “no, he's the Captain. I'm the Sargent.” He flicked a finger towards Steve.“Then who the fuck is that?” Tony shouted, one hand flinging out towards Ollie, who had somehow hauled Loki towards the landed quinjet.Steve and Bucky looked at each other and shrugged. Peggy had told them Ollie was a secret. That he had wanted to fade into history, and until Steve could grab Ollie and ask when he had a braid of all things, he wasn’t going to say a damn word. Besides, Bucky still thought Ollie was his niece.“You could say he's a ghost.” Steve offered as he turned on his heel and began to walk towards the quinjet.Yeah, things were just getting more complicated the longer he was awake.Was it too much to ask for a nap?

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The one thing no one ever seemed to realize about commuting while in the Ironman suit, was that there was absolutely nothing while in motion. Oh sure, Tony could have been having J.A.R.V.I.S update him about the company, or even feed Pepper (not Virginia, gosh that woman would castrate him if she found out he wasn’t using her ‘real’ name even in the sanctuary of his own thoughts), directly into his ear and have her rant at him But Pepper was the CEO of Stark Enterprises. How his old mad bastard of a father hadn’t fought that one, Tony wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to look a so-called gifted horse in the mouth. Still, that meant the incredibly fantastic Ms. Pepper Potts was technically his boss, and while Tony loved that woman, he was also the first to admit she was the scariest person in the room, and that was including two generations of Merchants of Death.So, flying into what was bound to be an exhilarating and slightly terrifying fight with a GOD -that had to be a typo- was not the best time to be under Pepper's stylish heels.“Sir, your Godmother is on the line.” J.A.R.V.I.S’ smooth tone curled into his ear and although Tony was proud of his baby, all grown up and snarky to the SHIELD idiots, hearing that Aunt Peggy was on the line was something he wanted to hear.“Uh, J-baby, not a good time.” Tony grumbled, half hoping Pepper would suddenly have a problem and that call would take priority.“Don't lie to me Tony.” Aunt Peggy hissed; her cultured tones clipped by the somewhat American drawl she had picked up when Tony was young.That was not what he wanted to hear, Tony thought wildly as he flailed a bit in the sky. J.A.R.V.I.S was going to be recording this, he just knew it. This reaction was going to be turned into a gif and dear lord, Dum-E was going to request this to be played over and over whenever Tony told him ‘no'. And, like the pushover he was, J.A.R.V.I.S was going to loop the image and Tony was going to be ganged up by his own bots and his father when he found out.Wonderful.“How did you get through?” Tony yelped. It was a damn good thing he had lowered the sensitivity on the repulsors or the world would be down a few birds.“J.A.R.V.I.S, like his name sake, knows to do what’s good for him.” Aunt Peggy sounded smug and although Tony preferred a smug Godmother over an annoyed SHIELD director, Tony also learned to be very wary of that tone.His father had come home bruised after that tone, but Aunt Peggy wouldn’t hurt him. Tony was her godson, exempt from all physical harm. Although, one could argue her eyebrow of disappointment was lethal.“J.A.R.V.I.S!” Tony playfully whined.“As I said sir, your Godmother is on the line.”Smug bastard, Tony thought with a fond shake of his head. He was rather proud of that development.“Alright Aunt Peggy, what can I do for you today?” Tony hadn’t spoken to the woman in a few months and although he was flying out to Germany, if Aunt Peggy said turn around, Tony would turn around, no questions asked.He owed his godmother that much, at least.“Tony…” Aunt Peggy trailed off before she even started, her words a soft huff over the connection J.A.R.V.I.S had stabilized and maintained over the ocean. “Tony. I…”Something settled heavily into Tony's gut and for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he was sick before he could get the faceplate up. Would J.A.R.V.I.S sense the ‘disturbance’ before Tony and throw him out of the suit in the name of cleanliness? Or would Tony be forced to turn around mid flight and call Pepper to send him a plane?It wasn’t something he wanted to find out.“Aunt Peggy is my father alright?” it was pure chance his voice didn’t wobble.If there was a problem with the company, Pepper would have called and J.A.R.V.I.S would have let the call through, no matter Tony’s opinion on the matter. If Aunt Peggy was calling about a publicity problem, Tony would have heard about it in at least a half hour, if only because Pepper would have called him in a snit. Considering Tony had been in flight for at least forty-five minutes, the so-called PR incident his brain was making up couldn’t have been caused by yours truly.That only left his father, and everyone knew Peggy could deal with his father better than Tony ever could. Two Stark men left together, often meant literal bombs stashed in drawers and napkin upon napkin of designs shoved into every nook and cranny. All the while, both men screamed at each other over inconsistencies and hypothetical machines.Family dinners weren’t a thing Tony did well.“Oh darling,” Aunt Peggy sighed, her voice catching slightly, “its not your father.”Tony’s stomach dropped.Pepper.No.It couldn’t be…Not…Please. He had to be wrong. He had to be.“Aunt Peggy…” Tony's voice hadn’t been so small since he had to explain why M.I.T might be expelling him over possible misconduct. Ironically, he had been talking to his Aunt Peggy then too. Howard had been out of the country.“Breathe, baby. Breathe. Your babies are alright, and God knows that wonderful woman hasn’t been tempted to leave you yet.” Aunt Peggy soothed, her voice breaking him out of his spiral.Tony almost choked. Wonderful. Aunt Peggy thought Pepper was wonderful. Hope swirled in his chest and beat a happy tattoo on the back of his ribs. Maybe the little black box he had hidden in the back of his work bench wasn’t sure a bad idea after all. Happy had been promising to hold it for years and maybe, just maybe, it was time to take him up on that offer.“Darling, I need you to find someone for me.” Aunt Peggy broke into his thoughts like the force of nature Tony had grown up watching in awe.Yes, Tony thought suddenly as he forced himself to stick to the flight plan, it was a damned good thing he had lowered the sensitivity in the gauntlets.This…This entire situation.It was, well…It was bad.Aunt Peggy had favours all over the world and half of the foreign agencies the United States had regular communication with, was wrapped around Aunt Peggy's fingers, right next to her little silver ring. If she was asking him, the one person Tony knew she had fought tooth and nail to keep away from SHIELD, then she was desperate.Desperate and scared.At thirty-eight years old, Tony knew his godmother had done, and still did, things that weren’t exactly legal or even for the ‘good of the nation’. But Tony also knew or had at least heard that ‘those without sin, cast the first stone'. And like it or not, Tony had a reputation. Well, in all honesty, the Starks had a reputation, Tony just hadn’t helped matters. But that was what Pepper was for, good PR and a moral compass that could smack him upside the head and point out legalities.Good, practical things, and Aunt Peggy thought Pepper was wonderful.“One fugitive coming right up!” Tony sang, grinning at the fact J.A.R.V.I.S pulled up a small file in the corner of his vision titled ‘Peggy's Principles’. “Who are we looking for?”Desperate or not, Aunt Peggy always had the best adventures.“Tony,” Aunt Peggy's voice caught and for a split second, Tony was terrified she was going to cry. “Tony. Tony, you have to understand that, well…”“Auntie Peggy,” Tony broke in, panicking slightly at the tears he could hear in her voice, “its alright. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not going to ask questions.”Well, he wasn’t going to ask her questions. If his father had done something, or even Uncle Danny, then they were both fair game. See, he could be tactful.Pepper would be proud.The line fell silent for a moment and Tony almost turned around and bolted back to the States. He knew, in a sort of ‘he wasn’t supposed to know but J.A.R.V.I.S knew’ kind of way, that Aunt Peggy and Uncle Danny had moved into his father's old mansion. There wasn’t much that could make his godmother nervous, and even less that could make her pack her bags and flee for sanctuary with a Stark. Aunt Peggy was too proud to move from her quiet home in the suburbs unless something life shattering had occurred and even then, Aunt Peggy had only stayed two weeks after Tony's mother had died.Aunt Peggy had been in the mansion for six months and out of respect -no it was not fear Pepper!- for his godmother, Tony hadn't looked further.He hadn't even let J.A.R.V.I.S peek.“Aunt Peggy, it’s alright. Do you need me to come back?” Tony wasn’t good at these situations but for his godmother, he could try.“We thought he was dead. Tony, you must understand that. We thought he was dead.” Aunt Peggy gasped, her voice strained and thin.“Did he hurt you?” Tony demanded, his thoughts spiraling. Even as he spoke, the file J.A.R.V.I.S had created retitled itself ‘Design 24a.’ Tony had learned long ago that anything digital that needed to be hidden, on top of being encrypted to hell and back, should be filed oddly. Who was going to look through layers of designs in Tony’s terabytes of storage when half of his designs were left laying around benches and counters?“No baby, he didn’t hurt me at all.”To Tony, it was almost as if he had woken up and found himself playing at the foot of Aunt Peggy's desk, fingers picking at paperclips and pens. “Did he hurt Uncle Danny?” Because that was the only other reason Tony could think of Aunt Peggy wanting to keep this in house.“Tony, what do you remember of your godfather?”“He made very good alcohol.” Tony whispered, his thoughts racing.Oliver Bakker. The rum runner. The boot Leger. The scout of the Howling Commandos. Aunt Peggy's first husband. Tony's first Mystery.The Pandora File.“His alcohol was shit.” Aunt Peggy swore, nearly making Tony fall out of the sky in shock.Well, today was just getting weirder and weirder.“Sir, should I pull up the Pandora File?” J.A.R.V.I.S murmured, his tone almost giddy in excitement.The Pandora File was even older the J.A.R.V.I.S and if it wasn’t for the fact that Tony would haul it out of the metaphorical dusty cabinets every few years just to see if there was something else he could add, J.A.R.V.I.S wouldn’t know anything about it.Ironically, the Pandora File had started as school project. He must have been eight, maybe nine, when good old Mrs. Riker had told the class to make family trees and collect family history. A risky move considering it was a high-profile boarding school and a dozen bastard children in any given class. Still, Tony remembered going home and proudly showing his mother all his aunts and uncles across the top his page.He was absolutely devastated when his mother told him his aunts and uncles weren’t blood.But, that was the first time his mother had ever taken out a picture squirreled away in his father's bedside table and shown him a young Oliver Bakker. Aunt Peggy had already told him about Uncle Ollie, but it was his mother that told him Uncle Ollie had saved his father's life during the war.It was his father that told him Uncle Ollie was away in a mission of ‘great importance' and that he wouldn’t be there for Christmas dinner, no matter how hard he begged. So, in a move fueled completely by spite, Tony choose to do Oliver Bakker for his family history assignment. Only no matter how hard he looked, Tony couldn’t find anything besides his father's pictures and his Aunt and Uncle's stories. There was no birth certificate, no immigration records, no arrests on file (which was odd considering some of the stories), and absolutely no mention of Oliver Bakker anywhere.Or at least, no where on paper.It was while Tony was running tools to his father by the docks that he first heard the name Ollie. Only, when Tony ran after the girl who had giggled about how strong and handsome Oliver was, he found out that in Brooklyn, Oliver and Olivia had been used as common first and second names for children since just before the second world war. And to make matters worse, it was only in the communities where Ollie Bakker had lived.Everyone, it seemed, knew an Ollie, but no one was talking about his Ollie.It was like trailing a ghost.Even the army records held nothing.So, Tony tracked down a Bakker, or it was more accurate to say a Bakker tracked him down. There really wasn’t much to say about that meeting, other then that they didn’t have any information either. The Bakkers were a tiny family, devastated by the world wars and trying to find their way in New York. As far as he could tell, they weren’t even related to his Uncle. In the end, Tony had promised that if any of them ever needed a part time job and as long as they were honest and hardworking, he'd take them on for a summer. The Bakkers had never called in the favour.Then Tony had made J.A.R.V.I.S and in the early stages of facial recognition programming, J.A.R.V.I.S had accidentally found hundreds of photographs of what he claimed to be Ollie Bakker. Positive it was a glitch, Tony had settled in for a long night with a bottle of jack, only to realize, J.A.R.V.I.S had found hundreds of pictures.Only, not all of them were male.Tony had grown up hearing of Ollie and Olivia. The cousins who traded guns and names throughout the war but for the first time, he wondered if that was a lie.Either Ollie had a twin or Ollie was a girl because those photos were far too similar for cousins.And then Tony realized J.A.R.V.I.S had found the photographs in SHIELD databases and the more he shifted through, the more he realized this was going to take more then one bottle. It was going to take a few, because there were videos and every day, he thanked whatever deity was in charge that J.A.R.V.I.S' speakers weren’t yet in working order. Because the images were enough to give him nightmares, he wasn’t sure he could live with the audio too.So, that day he created the Pandora File and shoved everything inside it, wiping the memories from J.A.R.V.I.S' hard drive as he went. Because, Tony knew his Aunt Peggy and if his Aunt Peggy was willing to cover up the torture and death of her first (husband?) spouse, then Tony wasn’t going to poke old wounds.Lord knew Aunt Peggy had enough problems on her plate.Therefore, the question should have been, what did Tony not know about his Godfather? Between the Pandora File and his bedtime stories as a child, Tony knew more about his Godfather then he did his Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky, hell, he knew more about Ollie then he did his own Grandfather.“Are you asking me to track down his killers?” Tony inquired, his fingers twitching. Because if that was the case then he was going to have to sit down with Pepper and tell her about Ollie. He was going to have to explain that this job wasn’t something he was proud of and he owed his Aunt Peggy more then he could ever repay. And he would sit through the full Pandora File and he would find the assholes that had tortured his godfather and he would make them pay.Tony didn’t just build weapons; he knew how to use them.His father was too old, and Aunt Peggy deserved to be told that her first spouse was avenged and laid to rest with full honours. And Tony wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty, besides at least he hadn’t yet given Pepper that little box.Aunt Peggy was silent for a moment before Tony heard a soft choked sound. “Tony, I think he's alive.”Well……***…
“I had two beautiful little girls.” Yinsen said smoothly, his face open and vulnerable in a way that told Tony the loss wasn’t new. “They were so much like their mother. Whip smart and little snap dragons, temperamental at best and fiery at worst.”
“Do you miss them?” Tony asked as he hunched over the equation. He didn’t need to write the math but it helped. It helped keep his hands steady and his breathing lose because he couldn’t panic, not with that damn battery and this bloody piece of metal and what if it all went wrong?
What if it…

Still, it was a rather stupid and callus question to ask a mourning father, Tony realized as he thought over the words he had just said and the silence that had crawled over the cave.

Still, Yinsen shook his head softly and smiled. “You never really stop missing anyone you love, Tony. That’s just the way it is.”
…***…No.Tony could still see Ollie's mouth open in a silent scream and the poor (wo)man hanging from a ceiling by their wrists. Tony could still see the broken bones and the medical report and dear lord why did Tony inherit his father’s near perfect memory?!“Aunt Peggy.” Tony whispered down the line, suddenly feeling every lab accident tearing across his skin and reopening old wounds. “You once told my father that he didn’t have to do penance. You don’t have to either.”Tony was the Merchant of Death, just like his father, and he would not see Aunt Peggy fall into disgrace, not while he could stop it.No one could have come back from a medical report like that. No one. Not even Uncle Ollie.Besides, his mother had always said the war made his father come back angry, but personally Tony thought the war made Aunt Peggy come back sad. Still, Tony thought this was rather important and with a slight shake of his head, Tony said the words that been bugging him since he was a child. “You don’t have to do penance Aunt Peggy.”For a slot second, Tony thought she had hung up, the phone line was so silent, but then there was a choked gasp of a sound and Aunt Peggy's voice flooded through the line. “Please, Tony. Please.”Oh God. He was making her beg.“I'll take a look.” Tony promised, J.A.R.V.I.S neatly tucking away the Pandora File on the corner of his display. He never wanted to hear his Godmother beg.Ever.“Thank you, Tony.”Oh, dear lord, he was going to be sick.…***…“You've been…THUNDERSTRUCK!”The timing was perfect, Tony thought as he flew into the plaza. J had managed to get just the right lyric into just the right place and Tony was so proud J.A.R.V.I.S had read the file with him last night about the God (that still had to be a typo) and managed to pick his own surprise for the younger brother of Thor, the God of thunder.J.A.R.V.I.S was going to deserve a treat for this. Maybe he'd let revoke his rule about J and the public domain that was urban dictionary. As fun as it was to hear J.A.R.V.I.S swear, it wasn’t exactly something Tony wanted his babies to learn, and if J.A.R.V.I.S learned, inevitably, so did Dum-E and U.But, well, he supposed J.A.R.V.I.S was old enough now to know better then to swear around impressionable minds. Besides, J only ever swore when shit really hit the fan and usually by that point, Tony needed the laugh anyway.Only, this time, it looked like Tony had stalled long enough on the flight over, that the situation had been resolved.Sighing, Tony let the armour take the jolt of the landing and glanced around warily. So far, it looked as if SHIELD hadn’t royally screwed up yet. The civilians had been herded out of the square and the damage had been contained to what appeared to be broken concrete under the god and rumpled clothing covering the girl holding the staff at Loki’s throat.She had probably given the god a glorious concussion.“J.A.R.V.I.S., I thought you said there was a fight.” Tony sighed, crushing his laughter under faux disappointment as the girl quickly flipped him off.Oh, he liked her.Looking back to the figure under the girl’s heel, Tony momentarily considered the value of taking off the faceplate. Since the nutcase was a GOD -yes, Tony still hadn’t gotten over that little fact- it was highly unlikely there was anyone around to take a shot at Tony and it was always a little odd to talk through the same speakers J.A.R.V.I.S utilized. Shaking his head, Tony flipped the faceplate up. “Well, it looks like someone did their job and took down Reindeer Games.”Because, no. He was not going to call nutcase a god.The girl preened under his gaze, her braid flicking slightly as she poked the down nutcase with the staff.Well, it appeared she had that handled, Tony thought with a smirk as he turned to what had to be STRIKE agents. “And how do you two feel that a girl took down Reindeer Games before you could land a hit?”Tony couldn’t resist the verbal punch to the two soldier’s ego. Standing beside Pepper while she dealt with PR incidents and other assholes in the company had taught him that most women could handle their own challenges presented by their teams. But having listened to Aunt Peggy’s complaints that there weren’t enough women in STIRKE due to hiring problems, Tony was all for protecting the few woman who worked in STRIKE.Any asshole Tony uncovered would neatly be dealt with the Stark that held a stake in the organization.Sometimes meeting with his father for dinner once a month paid off.Finally getting a good look at the two men, Tony stopped dead. Was that a shield?An actual, real life, metal shield?The last time Tony had seen one of those…
Shit.
No.Oh hell no.“Sir, facial recognition places the chances that these men are…” J.A.R.V.I.S whispered in his ear, the tail end of his speech fuzzing out as Tony’s brain kicked into overdrive.The mansion. Aunt Peggy running away in the middle of the night. Uncle Danny all but disappearing from public life. His father coming back and staying in New York for the first time since Tony’s mother had died.Aunt Peggy asking about his Godfather.The man in front of him. The impossible man in front of him flicked a finger towards the quinjet that had finally managed to circle back towards the square and grinned. “I’m just consulting.” He made no mention of the STRIKE agent and her total badassery.Good man.Wait. No. Bad.Bad man.He made Aunt Peggy cry.“Honestly, I think you made more of a scene then I did.” The man continued, his best friend, -who apparently wasn’t dead and oh god Tony was going to need a drink- nodded in agreement.It was a kneejerk reaction that had Tony grinning and shooting off the first thing that came to mind. “I did, didn’t I?”This mask was easy. Play up the idiot and cover his own feelings under apparent arrogance. This was his Uncle. This was the man that Tony had wanted to be when he grew up. This was the Captain America, the honorable man. This was Steve Rogers.This was Steve Rogers and he wasn’t dead.He wasn’t dead and oh god, it looked like he had stolen Howard’s shield from a museum.How was Tony going to explain this to his father? Better yet, how was he going to explain this to Pepper?Uncle Steve blinked, his face falling into a mask that Tony recognized, if only because he used the same one when he wasn’t sure how to react. “And you are?”The words slammed into Tony as if someone had tried to take out the arc reactor out of his chest. Aunt Peggy hadn’t told them about him? Aunt Peggy hadn’t explained how much Tony had adored his uncles as a child?His Uncles didn’t know who he was?“I am Ironman.” Tony tossed out. Somehow, this was more important then the time he had revealed it to the media and Pepper had tossed a fit. This wasn’t the public. This wasn’t a challenge to those who thought the Stark name was going to fall. These were his uncles.This was his family.They had to know who he was. They HAD too.“You know. Tony Stark. Playboy billionaire?” Tony half sang, hoping this was all going to be a bad dream. This had to be a bad dream. It had to be.Aunt Peggy wouldn’t be that cruel.She wouldn’t be…Uncle James bounced on his toes and snapped his fingers together with a mischievous smile Tony had only ever seen in pictures.  “Yeah, you’re Carter’s godson!”This time, it was Tony’s turn to blink. The world tilted a little under his feet and for some reason, Tony had the sneaking suspicion that if Pepper was here, she would be laughing herself into tears. For all that he hated being called Howard’s son, this was the first time anyone had ever called him Peggy’s godson.He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.“I thought you were younger! Or, I mean, Carter always speaks as if you're a knee-high.” Uncle James continued, his lips curling up into something Tony could only call glee.This was worse then any story Tony had heard growing up. It turned out, Tony though with growing horror, that his uncles were sadistic men who liked to fuck with everyone else’s minds.Someone could have at least mentioned that before Tony had met them.Uncle Steve leaned towards Uncle James with a matching smile. “Bucky, I think Howard knows about the suit.”Well, that was sweet, they actually cared about his well being but…“Bucky?” Tony shouted as his eyes flicked between his two uncles, feeling oddly like a mouse between two cats. Then he caught the soft look Uncle James sent Uncle Steve and a whole bunch of questions Tony had always had about his bedtime stories slotted into place.His Uncles were a lot more then ‘friends’.That was cute, in a kind of old school, thank-god-his-uncles-weren’t-going-to-be-homophobes, way. Actually, that explained why his entire family had stanchly defended anyone who identified as part of the LGBTQ+ community.Then Tony realized a few of the people on the edge of the plaza were giving the scene a little more attention then was safe, and Tony doubted his uncles were aware of the way they practically curled around each other, and dear lord, what was his life coming to that Tony Stark was trying to stop a PR incident.“Captain.” Tony warned, his heart cracking as Uncle James jerked away from his partner as if he had been burned.Uncle James gave him a brittle smile. “No, he’s the Captain. I’m the Sargent.” He tried to joke; his smile thin.Before Tony could give the joke the derisive snort it deserved, J.A.R.V.I.S piped up in the background too softly for his uncles to hear. “Sir, should I pull up the Pandora File?” thrown for a loop, Tony couldn’t give voice to his disbelief before J.A.R.V.I.S was continuing with; “I have identified the unknown STRIKE agent as Miss Ollie Bakker.”J.A.R.V.I.S, likely knowing that Tony wasn’t going to react well to the situation, pulled up the oldest identifiable photograph of Tony’s Godfather, the image twisting through the red of his armour to appear on the back of his hand. A clear image of a battered woman, stitches marring her cheek and dried blood thrown liberally through her hair. A short braid fell over her shoulder and for a split-second Tony could have sworn the STRIKE agent across the plaza twitched.The image faded away and Tony wanted to scream.What had Aunt Peggy done?Tony had been willing to destroy everything because Aunt Peggy had to have known about the abuse her spouse had gone through. She had to have known what Ollie had sacrificed for her. But this, this was too much. Had Aunt Peggy only called him to track down Uncle Ollie because he had escaped?Then an awful thought made him lose his breath. Did Uncle Steve and Uncle James know? Did his father?Had Uncle Steve and Uncle James known that Ollie was tortured by SHIELD before his apparent death?Oh god, had they helped?“Then who the fuck is that?” Tony shouted as he threw one hand up towards Uncle Ollie. If any of them said that he was a Ghost, Tony was going to make someone bleed.For a moment, Uncle Steve hesitated, and Tony almost let himself droop in relief, except, Uncle Steve tossed out this tiny little smile and shook his head. “You could say he’s a ghost.”Blood roared in Tony’s ears and his hands shook as his gaze slid to his Uncle. He had to get him out. Tony had to get his Uncle out.Oh god, was this how Yinsen felt when he realized who Tony was?He had to call Pepper.He had to call his Uncles.He had to call someone.That was his Uncle Ollie and his Uncle Steve and Uncle James were leaving him to rot beside a nutcase of a god.What had Aunt Peggy done?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So, how'd you do it?” Bucky asked as he stared at his reflection in the gleaming metal of the Ironman suit. “I mean, it couldn’t have been iron, not if u wanted it light weight and heat resistant. And I mean, could you imagine being in a suit of iron? All your enemy would need is a big magnet and a camera and that would be the end of you. That is, of course, not even mentioning the poor electronics. How are you not getting electrocuted or otherwise killed? Because I don’t think a whole bunch of double A batteries is going to do you much good.”Bucky stared at Tony, -not Anthony. No. Only my mother calls me that and last I checked, you are not my mother in a mask- and tried not to snicker at the flummoxed expression on the man's face. “Well?” he demanded, his arms crossing over his chest. “How'd you do it?”Tony blinked, his head swiveling towards Steve as if he was expecting salvation from that quarter. “Does he always talk this much?” He asked desperately.Bucky would have been offended if it wasn’t for the fact, he had the feeling Tony was doing his best not to scream at either of them. Considering Howard had just chucked tumblers and glasses at people’s heads when things weren’t going the way he liked, Bucky was rather impressed.Steve didn’t even look up from where he was lounging against the wall of the quinjet and fiddling around with a tablet he had taken off the firebrand. “No.” he said absently.Tony looked relieved.“Usually he's much worse.” Steve continued in that same absent tone. “If it makes you feel any better, he was much worse to your father the first time they met. I think there was something about a gun going off prematurely?”Incredulously, Bucky swung around to look at his husband with his jaw on the floor. “No! That was deliberate. You, you, sorry little bastard, had to try and cuddle with that little secretary.” He wasn’t even going to dignify that little bug with a name. Bucky had gotten Steve first, he even had the ring to prove it.Steve looked up with a grin. “Ah yes, Lorraine.”Bucky's eye twitched. “Darling, you are one step away from sleeping on the floor.” And this time, he meant it.Steve nodded again and turned back to the screen with a small grin. “Sure, Sweetie. Whatever you say.”“You know…” Tony broke in, grinning unrepentantly when Bucky swung around with a snarl. Somehow the man had found a small bag of peanuts and had begun to munch on them as Bucky and Steve quarreled.How the man had designed such dexterity into the suit, Bucky would give an arm to know. Medical advancements aside, the suit had to be lightweight enough to recognize the movement the man made inside the suit, and it had to understand the amount of force the man placed into each action, therefore not grinding the food into dust or letting it drop to the ground. The sheer advancement Tony had made was incredible.“When the old man said you two acted like an old married couple, I thought he was joking.” Tony finished as he popped another peanut into his mouth.“Umn.” Steve hummed in reply, his eyes still glued to the screen.Bucky shook his head even as Tony threw his head back and laughed. “The Asshole never said you were back.” Tony said morosely, his head hanging in mock disappointment. “Care to tell me a few good stories for blackmail?”Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “You call your father Asshole?” He had a bad feeling about this.Tony paused, his mouth twisting into a grimace before he flippantly waved away the question. “Daddy dearest spent years looking for you guys. I suppose I should be grateful I wasn’t named after a dead man.”There was a lot to pick apart there, Bucky thought, his brain screeching to a halt. Beside him, Steve's fingers flexed on the tablet and Bucky gently knocked his fingers against his shoulder. Howard had never been what Bucky would call a ‘good man'.Eccentric and standoffish? Yes.A good man?No.But it still hurt to think about one of their friends turning into a bad father.“That isn’t to say,” Tony paused, his gaze stuck somewhere on the wall somewhere over Bucky's shoulder, “well…” Tony heaved in a breath. “I had Aunt Peggy, Uncle Dumdum, and all the rest. If dad wasn’t home, he called every Friday at 1pm without fail. Walked out of business meetings to do it too. He started it when I was three, still does it to this day. Dad and I aren’t close, but…” Tony trailed off, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.For all that Tony was older than him, Bucky suddenly had the insight to realize, Tony didn’t know that.Banner knew Bucky and Steve were still young, barely past being teenagers. For all that Bucky would argue war and circumstances from before had forced both him and Steve to grow up, he was still only twenty-one, maybe twenty-two now. But to Tony, they were adults. Fully grown adults who had become heroes somewhere along the line.The thought was enough to make him want to throw up.Tony wanted to defend his father from them but at the same time, he wanted Bucky and Steve to agree with him, because they were heroes.It was a catch-22 of the worst kind.“Kid, I…” Bucky trailed off, his hand spasming uselessly at his side. God, this had been easier with Becca. Hell, it was easier with some of the pimpled faced recruits that the brass forced them to mingle with in their downtime.“Yeah, Howard is a bit of an asshole.” Steve suddenly said from where he was poking at the screen.For a moment it looked like Tony was going to pass out, as it was, the next peanut fell from his teeth and rolled across the floor like a bullet casing. Steve could have shot the kid for all the blood that drained from his face. Bucky shot Steve a dirty look. One didn’t just say that about people's fathers, unless of course, they were like Bucky's.“What?” Steve demanded as he looked up, a coy smile dancing around the corner of his mouth. “The first official time I met him, he helped stick a needle in my arm and electrocuted me with the Brooklyn power grid.”Well, when he put it like that…Hysterical laughter pulled Bucky away from the rabbit hole and he looked over to see Tony shaking his head. “How are you alive?” he managed as he stifled his laughter, his eyes a bit wide.Bucky didn’t have to look at Steve as they both ruefully grinned and responded, “Ollie.”Vengeful, spitfire, obnoxious Ollie. The scrawny little rum runner who had too much heart and not enough time.“Yeah,” Tony replied, a boisterous smile jumping back onto his face. “Good ol' Uncle Ollie. You know, Da named a cat after him.”There was a lot to unpack here to, Bucky thought as Tony clapped him on the shoulder and stepped towards Bucky's niece. The girl had strapped herself in next to Loki and whenever the lunatic started to twitch, she'd poke him with the staff until he stopped.“Yes, he was a tragic man.” Tony mused, not seeming to notice how Steve looked up to glare a hole in the back of his head.Bucky swore softly as he caught the look, shaking his head quickly behind Tony's shoulder. He might not have liked Tony talking about Ollie like that, but if Steve went after Tony, suit or not, it wouldn’t end well for Howard's son.“A tragic man that died without ever getting laid.” Tony grumbled as he looked down at Ghost. “Don't you agree, Geist?”Bucky just about choked. The thought of Ollie laying with someone, well, it was like thinking of Becca and dating. Although, there was that girl that one day after church…“Is he saying anything, agent?”Fury's voice crackled through the speakers and Bucky really had to talk to take Sam up on that offer of talking to someone because one of these days he really was going to shoot someone when they startled him.“Not a word.” The firebrand purred back. “Although, Mr. Stark here won’t shut up.”Tony gave a very mature response of sticking his tongue out at the firebrand's back. The girl didn’t even look back when she flipped him off.“There’s gotta be a camera, or mirrors.” Tony muttered, glancing around anxiously. “J.A.R.V.I.S., do you see any?”There was a very soft reply from inside the suit, and it was only through years of reading Buck Rodgers that Bucky didn’t think anything past, uh…well, that’s nifty.“Well, get him back here agent. We're low on time.” Fury rumbled, his voice distorting slightly through the ship.At that, Tony's head shot up. “Time?” he sounded like a curious puppy. “Short on time for what?”Bucky shrugged, the question bouncing around his head. Trust a Stark to be loud and obnoxious, it always allowed the smaller minions to gather information silently in the background. Maybe that was why Howard had liked Ollie so much. Although, in truth, Howard probably liked Ollie because the little spitfire took no nonsense and on the odd day, could run circles around the inventor.Ollie would have adored his nephew, Bucky thought as he watched Tony make faces at the semi-conscious Loki. Becca would have hauled Howard down by his ear and lectured him while Tony played with blocks in the back yard.“Are you even paying attention, Geist?” Tony asked, breaking through Bucky's thoughts with ease. “Or are you busy playing with the wanna-be God over there?” the tail end of the sentence turned into a sneer and Bucky frowned at the back of his head.Considering his niece had just taken down the so-called wanna-be God, Bucky rather thought she was able to defend herself from annoyances. Although, a bit of warning next time might do some good. Bucky’s heart was still flexing anxiously every time he thought about the fact his niece had stood against Loki alone. In fact, it looked like she was still standing against Loki alone, if the way she prodded Loki awake and looked up at Tony with a slight frown under the cowl of her hood, was any indication.Loki twitched back into the waking world far too quickly for Bucky's comfort and reflexively, Bucky’s fingers twitched to his hip, landing quickly on the cool metal of his gun.He wouldn’t shoot on the plane, not with memories of ice and cold and pain, and please, please, please! jumping around in his brain. There were too many allies that could be hit, and he didn’t think the firebrand would forgive him if Bucky accidentally hit her.“Well, hello Sargent.” Loki said as he tilted his head back, his cuffed hands batting away the sceptre that Ghost had been about to prod him with, a cruel smile crawling across his face. For a split second, Bucky had the distinct sensation that Loki was exactly where he wanted to be, bruised head or not.Something must have shown on his face because Loki’s smile grew, and he leaned forward with a sharp nod of his head. “It is lovely to meet you face to face.”Screw upsetting the Firebrand Bucky thought as yanked out the gun and settled the lunatic in his sights. He was done with surprises and secrets not staying buried.“How do you know my name?” Bucky hissed, ignoring how Steve had stood and hoisted the shield.Loki's expression grew fierce and the cool exterior Bucky seen since the moment he had landed on the roof top, twisted into something Bucky couldn’t quite pinpoint. He took a step back.“I have a better question, Sargent. How do you not know hers?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

214781 dropped down into the seat next to Loki and strapped in almost absently, the staff held lightly in her left hand. She wasn’t sure why she had kept the staff in her left hand, or why she had taken off the glove so that she could trail her real fingers down the weapon without obstruction. But she had. 214781 had taken the staff and all but snarled when Cannon had suggested she give it up.The staff was pretty, in its own way, 214781 thought as she tapped the base of the staff absently against Loki’s thigh when he twitched. For all the fact the staff was unadorned with engravings, the gold was crafted almost reverently near the blue stone set gently in the curve of the staff.Chewing on her lip, 214781 ran a thumb along the tampered blade the staff morphed into at the tip, her eyebrows quirking as she registered the fact the blade was dull. That was dangerous, 214781 realized as she pulled her hand away. Dull blades were far more dangerous then sharp ones. One thought they could push and push and push but if the blade jumped? If it hit a groove and skidded? Even dull blades could snag and pull. Even dull blades could make someone bleed. And often, they were all the more dangerous for it, because who ever thought that a dull blade, a discarded lump of metal would tear into veins far worse than a sharp knife ever could?Sharp knives made clean incisions, dull blades made jagged holes and worst of all, dull knives could become serrated knives all to easily, and those wounds were far harder to fix. 214781 would know. Hydra didn’t always think the long shot was personal enough, after all.Still, a dull blade on a staff that was supposed to be a weapon of mass destruction. It was odd. There had to be something else to it. Twisting the staff around, 214781 glanced down at the blue stone. Not for the first time, there was a sense that she had done this before. No matter that the scene was wrong and the colour was maybe, possibly, supposed to be green. …***…
There was a blinking green light and she was bored. On the floor, there was a discarded pen and inches from her nose there was a blinking green light. 214781 wasn’t stupid. She knew the blinking device wasn’t supposed to be there, but her fingers were twitching, and she was bored.

Surely nothing could go wrong if she just gave one…little…poke….
…***…214781’s fingers fell onto the stone.Something in the back of her mind screamed.~I could give you an name.~ the words curled through 214781’s mind like a sweet honey, sticking to her thoughts and tugging at her will.214781 shuddered, her hands tightening on the staff even as she tried to unclench her jaw enough to do more than breathe. The presence didn’t hurt so much as it loomed and snarled in a corner of her mind, claws lashing out but slipping against barriers that ensured no damage was wrought. Beside her, neither Loki nor Punk twitched, and even as she fought to drag in another breath, something whispered to her that this was all happening inside her head.Bitter experience told her that just because 214781 was the only one hearing the conversation, didn’t make it was any less real.“No.” 214781 thought, her tone almost scolding as she tapped the staff against the floor, one eye kept warily on the pulsing blue gem. The chances of the weird object of power being the host of the voice was far greater than the odds that 214781 had broken. Sure, 214781 had glitched from time to time, but that was always in action, not in thought. Rolling her shoulders, 214781 licked her lips and tentatively pushed the next thought in the direction of the gem. “I have name.”There was a stilled sort of silence that came from the staff and 214781 fought the urge to smile. It seemed that sending her thoughts to the odd corner in her mind was the right thing to do. “You didn’t expect me to respond. Did you?” she couldn’t help but tease.~I could give you power.~ the voice insisted, tugging hard at 214781’s thoughts. ~I could give you riches~“Yay! Responsibility!” 214781 chirped back, the words bouncing down the connection with false cheer.~I could set you free.~  This time, the voice sounded smug, a prideful boast of superiority. It had found the perfect temptation. The perfect plan. No one could resist.214781 almost smirked. “No, thank you.” She tossed back almost absently. “I’m working on it.” And that was the truth, wasn’t it? She just had to figure out a few more things before she could leave. She had to find spider, she had to figure out the difference between the Punks, talk to Cannon, decide to kill or release Loki, and find the British Lady and the Engineer.~What are you? ~ the voice asked, a tentative question in between the breaths 214781 was using to center herself.“You don’t know?” 214781 murmured, her eyebrow raising as she shook the staff slightly. “You are inside my head.”The presence seemed to hesitate. Clawed hands becoming blunt fingers that combed gently through 214781’s thoughts. ~You don’t…~ the voice trailed off for a moment before it seemed to force itself to finish the thought. ~You don’t want me?~For a moment, 214781 was angry. Not at the stone and not even at herself, but more at the universe. What was it with items of power becoming unwilling weapons of destruction? A stone in the staff and weapon thrown out of the ice and told to kill.Was there any difference?And that was the irony. In that hazy way that 214781 remembered anything, she could just barely recall Loki whispering about stones of power. Objects that could rewrite the universe with a thought and whim, and this one, because there was no doubt what 214781 was holding was power beyond imagining, was set into a scepter and subjugated.At least, if 214781 became desperate enough there was always a out. Her way out might have been final and possibly not the best option, but it was there. The Mind Stone, however, was without end. Eternity was a very long time to be left alone.IN the back of her mind, the Mind Stone seemed to pause, and 214781, long used to the same childish tones from hazy figures with sticky fingers and bright eyes, just shook her head. “Darling.” She thought, the tone somehow becoming a mockery of the Queen’s English. “You don’t owe me anything.”And wasn’t that the truth as well? 214781 wasn’t even sure why the Mind Stone had helped her in the first place. It owed her nothing. It owed Loki, nothing.214781, in time, would act out her own plans. What was a name without a history? What was power without friends? What was riches without something to buy? And what was freedom without sacrifice? There was no reason to control a life, 214781 thought, without there being a life live.
~But, you don’t want me?~
Oh, dear lord, 214781 thought with no small amount of horror, the Mind Stone was moping.~No one ever doesn’t want me.~214781 winced, her head tilting down. This was, 214781 thought with some consideration, probably the first time in the Mind Stone’s existence, that someone had turned it away. But, 214781 knew of her own existence. She knew how it felt to have no control, to be a tool, to be a weapon.She, at least, had the ability to walk away, when she remembered how.The Mind Stone had no such luxury.An object of power 214781 could not comprehend and it was as much a victim and as much a prisoner as she was. That just went to show that universal power did not equal universal freedom.“Does Loki’s monsters hold your allegiance?” 214781 questioned, her fingers curling around the staff as she bopped Loki over the head again. His eyes flickered between blue and green. Mental recalibration always worked in a pinch, 214781 thought with a small snicker. It had worked for years on her after all.There was a sort of careful consideration from the Mind stone and 214781 fought the urge to scream. She wasn’t going to use a sentient being bound to a stone. That wasn’t fair to either the entity in the stone or 214781 herself. Still, 214781 knew better than most what it was like to be offered what appeared to be a way out.Pretty little lies wrapped in ribbons that promised sleep and freedom.Those traps hurt more than the ones that drew blood and crushed bone.~I…~ The Mind Stone paused and 214781 relaxed further into the chair, there was no reason to rush. It wasn’t like either of them were going anywhere. ~What is your name?~214781 closed her eyes, her head falling against the top of the staff. Her name. It wasn’t 214781, that was for sure, and it certainly wasn’t Ghost or Doll, no matter what Old Punk thought. And, gods, didn’t that give her a headache?Punk was in two places at once and one was either playing double agent or 214781 was having another glitch and, well, 214781 remembered the last time she had a glitch. She remembered the glitch in the same way that she remembered Loki.Hazy.Incomplete.Pain.…***…Red hair. Terrified eyes. Shaking hands. Broken bones. Don’t shoot. Don’tshootdon’tshootdon’tshootdon’tshoot.
“Come on Doll, she betrayed you. She made the other girls BLEED.”

PULL THE TRIGGER.
…***…No.…***…
“This is the man who killed Cannon.”
Blue eyes. Pale blue eyes hidden under dark hair and pale skin.But Cannon wasn’t dead. Cannon was arguing with an automan.Mr. Tony.…***…
“Sir? You’re not mad at me, are you?”

…***…
Blinking green lights. Ducking under a dinner table to grab a pen. A tug and a pull. Scraped knees and terror. Alleyways. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.…***…
“One day, a dame will tell you that she’s pregnant, and I fear for her. Because you. You are not a good man. Neither of us are.”
…***…
“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt the boy, Howie.”
…***…Names, 214781 thought as she dragged herself away from the memories, were always a tricky subject. In the furthest reaches of her mind, she could sense that the Mind Stone was finding the threads of her thoughts interesting, possibly amusing. Either way, it didn’t matter much, not as long as it didn’t try to sink claws into her brain and tear apart the mess that 214781 already had to sort through.“Suffice to say, I have a name.” 214781 thought with no little amusement. She had names galore. Bitch. Bastard. Geist. Ghost. Girl. Boy.Some of them were even true.Babushka. Friend. Aunt. Uncle.She had names, there just wasn’t one that was hers.It was dangerous to show that you remembered. It was dangerous to show that she cared. It was even worse that she had reacted to Young Punk without Cannon’s permission. Old Punk was a liability, a loose thread. Either he didn’t remember Cannon and Hydra had gotten to him as well or….It didn’t bear thinking about that Cannon had fallen too and it was only now that he was being placed beside her. Because, Hydra wasn’t nice, 214781 knew that. She knew it like the sky was blue or that her spiders were dead. But they did good things.They did good things.…***…
The doll was missing a shoe, 214781 thought as she wiped away the worst of the blood off the floor of the formerly immaculate kitchen. The doll, half tucked away under the cupboards, discarded in the scuffle, was missing a shoe.

Biting at her lip, 214781 grabbed at the doll as she staggered to her feet and wandered towards the bedrooms she had torn through only minutes before. It wasn’t fair, 214781 thought, for a little girl not to have her doll to go to sleep.

It wasn’t fair.

Even the spiders liked to cuddle with pillows and blankets, or as much as the chains would let them.

Every little girl deserved to have her toy.

A roughly thrown wooden block bounced off her thigh, and 214781 turned and knelt, her head tilting as she peered into the closet. A little flash of red and a small glint of green stared back. 214781 held out the doll. “It’s over darling, you can come out now.”

The little girl shifted out from behind dresses and coats, her nightgown curling around her knees. For a moment, 214781 thought the girl was going to throw another block, which considering the circumstances, was expected. But then the little girl blinked, and her lower lip trembled. “Babushka!” she wailed, her fingers curling around the doll. “I want Babushka!”

Well, 214781 thought as the girl threw herself into 214781’s chest, she wasn’t Babushka, but she would have to do.
…***…Hydra did good things.They did good things, because if they didn’t then 214781 was the worst kind of person and she wasn’t sure she could live with that. But now, 214781 was forced to consider the fact that there was something wrong. There was something wrong. Because, Cannon wasn’t dead and there were two Punks and she couldn’t tell who was lying.She wanted her Spider. She wanted her little redheaded spider who always told the truth. She wanted her spider and she didn’t understand why her spider wasn’t with her. Her spider was always with her. But her spider wasn’t with her and Punk was breaking all the protocols. He was interacting with her and calling her things other then Ghost and he was trying to make her speak while on a mission.And that wasn’t good.That was against the rules.214781 didn’t want the chair. She didn’t want to glitch, but Punk was acting against the rules and if he reported her then she was going to go back into the chair, and she wouldn’t go willingly. She couldn’t go willingly. Her spider was still missing, Tony looked stressed, and Howard had promised. Howard had promised to never hurt his son and Tony looked haggard and what if Howard had lied?What if Howard had lied?But, 214781 couldn’t leave yet. She had to wait for the British Lady and the Engineer. They’d get the Spider out and they’d make sure Hydra was a good organization.They’d tell her the truth.She just had to wait.The British Lady wouldn’t leave her behind.~I don’t think I am good.~ the Mind Stone whispered softly, the statement breaking through 214781’s thoughts like a gunshot.“Well,” 214781 murmured back, “its not like I’m a good man either.”The Mind Stone hummed and 214781 turned her attention back to the quinjet, her hand falling lax on the staff. Beside her, Loki stirred, a rage settling onto his features so quickly, 214781 almost jumped to her feet. But, Cannon was holding a gun and Punk looked distressed and 214781 didn’t know what to do. “I have a better question, Sargent. How do you not know hers?” Loki sneered, the sheer venom in the words forcing 214781 to blink and recoil slightly.For a moment, the quinjet was silent, and 214781 blinked again, looking between Cannon and the flash of red she should see in pilot seat. How did Loki know about any girl on this ship? There wasn’t any girl on this ship.There was a weapon and there was a STRIKE pilot.Hydra had no use for anything else.The gun in Cannon’s hand wavered and 214781 watched in detachment as Punk stood up and grabbed at Cannon’s wrist. Operatives couldn’t use weapons without leave, 214781 thought in approval as Punk slowly pulled the gun away from Cannon’s fingers.Besides, Loki was her kill, not Cannon’s.~Are you sure?~ The Mind Stone hissed in 214781’s ears.Pushing aside the distraction, 214781 reached over and pulled Loki back against the hull, a low growl slipping out from between her teeth. She had no reason to explain why Loki was still alive. Her mission was his death. Her mission was important.But there was still two Punks giving conflicting orders and Cannon wasn’t dead. There was a low throbbing at the base of her skull and the back of her eyes burned. This was important, 214781 thought, her fingers wrapping tighter around the staff. This was important. But she didn’t know why.~If you are a weapon, why are you a ‘she’?~ the Mind Stone hummed, as 214781’s fingers turned blue in the soft light the staff immitted. ~Weapons don’t need independence.~“I am 214781.” She hissed to the staff, dragging herself to her feet to duck out from Cannon’s hands as he reached for her face.“Don’t grab at her!” Mr. Tony snarled as he shoved himself forward, suddenly interjecting himself between 214781 and Cannon, his hands slamming up and pushing Cannon back when he tried to walk forward. “I thought your generation knew what the word ‘no’ meant.”Standing behind Mr. Tony, Loki half curled into her shoulder from where 214781 had hauled him after her, 214781 had to fight the ridiculous urge to check if there was a stamp inked onto her hand and if her pockets held stolen pens and papers.~They want to know your name, child.~ The Mind Stone sounded oddly subdued and 214781 dragged Loki a little further back as Cannon all but spit in Mr. Tony’s face.“I have a name.” 214781 whispered, her nose tucking down into the crown of Loki’s head, his cuffed wrists digging into her hips. “Its 214781.”~A R E  Y O U  S U R E ?~  The words thundered about her skull and 214781 couldn’t help the small whimper that managed to slip through her teeth.Fingers curled into her hip and Loki all but pushed himself onto her lap. “Come on, Midgardian, I can’t hold these shields forever.”Midgardian.The world froze between one heartbeat and the next.…***…
“You are, by far, the strangest Midgardian I have ever met.”
…***…
“What kind of Midgardian keeps numbers as a name?”
…***…His skin was the prettiest blue she had ever seen.…***…~W H A T  I S  Y O U R  N A M E?~ The Mind Stone snarled, the words ripping something apart in the back of 214781’s mind. “W H A T  I S  Y O U R  L E G A C Y?”…***…
A little boy with a blackeye looked up with awe and fear swimming through his one good eye, a camera swinging around his neck. “He won’t find out, will he?”

214781 shrugged, her fingers twitching in her pockets, a cigarette brushing against her palm. “He shouldn’t, but if he does….You find me.” She ordered, her hand falling onto the boy’s shoulder. “You find me, and I’ll deal with it.”

Young Mike hesitated. “You won't kill him, will you?”

“That all depends on how badly he hurts you.” 214781 hummed in response.
…***…
“0736X.” 214781 chirped, her fingers brushing against her skirt as she bowed her head to the Matriarch. “Opa says that’s my calling card.”

The Matriarch grinned, her gnarled hands tapping against the teapot. “Well, that tells me your division, Heir, but that does not tell me your name.” There was laughter in the woman’s voice even as 214781 flushed a bright red, her Opa shaking his head somewhere behind the woman’s shoulder.
…***…
Ollie looked Sarah Rogers in the eye. This was going to be the lie that would cement the future. This was going to be the lie that changed a world. This was going to be the lie that saved Punk’s life.

Ollie straightened her shoulders. “I’m Oliver Bakker and I don’t know how to get home.
…***…“Bakker.” Oliver whispered. “I’m a Bakker.”The Mind Stone hummed in approval.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Oliver was going to be sick.There were voices muttering and screaming in the back of her mind, the wordless howls tearing at her temples. How there wasn’t blood streaming down the side of her face, she didn’t know. There should have been blood. She could almost smell it, taste it.But there wasn’t any blood and there was pain at her temples, and she was going to be sick.Because she was a Bakker.That was true. The statement rang clear in a way that precious little did. She was a Bakker. Somehow, Oliver knew that the world could end, the skies could come crashing down, and that statement would never change. Past, present, future. She, 214781, Oliver, whoever, was a Bakker.She was a Bakker.The word Bakker fit in the same way Oliver didn’t.The name Oliver was like trying to block a punch with her left arm instead of her right. It would work, probably wouldn’t even bruise, and she was operational, but it wasn’t what felt right. Calling herself Oliver was like trying to call herself 214781. It was a title. A name. It worked well enough for her to respond too but it didn’t fit. Oliver was her name, (it had to be, there was nothing else that made sense. Although she was going to ignore the whispers that said: ghosts didn’t have names and darling, you have more names then you do sense!) but it wasn’t her name.Her name was…It was…It was important.Her name was as important as the murmurs that drifted around the corners of her mind. She could just hear them. The voices. The important ones. The…She didn’t know.Loki would know.The thought came unbidden and Oliver almost recoiled from the venom that saturated the words. The bitterness wasn’t directed towards the Prince (who the hell was a prince? That wasn’t in the briefing!) but more towards the situation in general, and gods (“Asgardian,” her thoughts growled. “He’s an Asgardian.”) she was going to be sick.She wasn’t even sure what Loki would know so much about. Was it her name? The voices? The pain in her temples?But Loki was the mission.Loki was supposed to be dead and Oliver had disobeyed. She had blatantly disobeyed, in public, under the watchful eye of Punk and there was going to be a session in the chair, and she didn’t understand.She didn’t understand.Hydra was good. Oliver was bad. That’s why she kept doing the missions that Hydra asked of her. If Hydra was good and Oliver did her best to make sure that everything worked out in the spirit of what the mission should have been, if not the letter, then everything would balance out.She just had to talk to Cannon.Cannon would know what to do.Cannon always knew what to do.Shifting slightly, Oliver stared down at the staff in her hand. It was being suspiciously quiet and she wasn't sure she liked that. Even as the thought crossed her mind, a warmth spread through her temples, easing the throbbing slightly. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased and Oliver found herself heaving out a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure what the Mind Stone was doing, but if it kept her headache at bay, she wouldn't question it any further.Across from her, Punk slipped around the still arguing Mr. Tony and Cannon, his brow furrowed. “Are you alright?” He asked, one hand extended as if to steady her when Loki suddenly dropped his head onto her shoulder with a muffled huff of hysterical laughter.For a moment, Oliver could only stare, one hand tight on Loki’s jacket, the other still loosely holding onto the staff. “I, uh…” Oliver stumbled over the words. This was wrong. She shook her head. “18,17.” She offered, the numbers dropping easily.Punk blinked as he mouthed the numbers, his brow furrowing. “Ollie?” he questioned quietly, his shoulders turning slightly to block her view of the arguing men.Oliver hardly had any time to react to the memories swimming through the back of her mind when the quinjet began to shudder. Unsure if the rolling floor under her feet was due to her own shook and loss of balance or a loss of control of the flight plan, Oliver cursed softly and leaned back against the hull in a futile attempt to keep her feet.Loki flinched into her shoulder. “Lovely. The cavalry is here.” He sneered; his voice dry as a boom of thunder had everyone but Mr. Tony involuntarily ducking. Although, Mr. Tony raised a hand towards the bang, his face a carefully blank mask.Oliver flinched back, her hands gripping Loki’s shoulder as her eyes widened. “You mean there’s more of you?” She half shouted, uncaring of the way the other men on the ship paused in their arguments to turn and stare.“I believe I did mention a brother.” Loki muttered dryly, twitching slightly as a sudden bolt of lightening lit up the quinjet.“Siblings.” Oliver snarled as she pushed Loki behind her. Something slammed onto the top of the quinjet and Oliver just about shot the ceiling in a kneejerk reaction. This is why operatives weren’t typically allowed guns. Turning, Oliver kept Loki behind her as she raised her gun and tilted her head towards the launch door.And, for some godforsaken reason, Punk decided to be the asshole Oliver knew he was dying be. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightening?”* He taunted, his cheeks still a bit pale.Loki peered over her shoulder; his eyes narrowed. “I’m not overly fond of what comes after.”*Thunder cracked and Oliver ducked. The shadows seemed to yawn beside her; faint screams and dodging bodies dancing in the corner of her vision. She shook her head quickly even as Mr. Tony huffed and threw his helmet back onto his head. “Come on you fossils, we’ve got work to do.”The pure disgust in his voice made Oliver grin. She wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at the prospect of work or the two young men who seemed too easy to rile up. The face of the automan seemed to smirk at them as Mr. Tony hit the button to open the door.“Is he an idiot?” Loki questioned as Oliver watched opened mouth as Mr. Tony leaned out the hatch and investigated the sky, ignoring the readouts on the radar. It was distinct possibility, Oliver had to admit as she stepped forward and tapped the glass of the machine.Cannon shook his head even as he grabbed for a parachute. “Howard’s going to kill us if he gets himself killed.”Then something landed on the launch door and Oliver was positive even she couldn’t scream that high. The quinjet seemed to wobble in the air and Mr. Tony appeared frozen in place, his hand raised as if to ward off the intrusion. For once, Oliver hadn’t even twitched, her hands still steady on the gun. At this range, one shot was over kill.Oliver lined up the sights.Protect the mission. Protect the spiders. Protect the boys. Her hand never wavered.“Thor, you imbecile!” Loki yelped as the quinjet shuddered again, his bound hands flying up into the air as he fought balance. “What do you think you’re doing?”Oliver holstered the gun. Well, that certainly changed things.Then Thor looked up.For a moment, all Oliver could see was a brunette with soft eyes and fidgeting hands, a small scared smile spreading across his face. “Andy, I need you to take her and go hide. Somethings wrong with one of the specials and we’re evacuating the residents.” His voice trembled and Oliver wanted to scream. This was wrong. This was so very wrong. He shouldn’t be scared. He was never scared. He was…A hand reached up and tugged softly at a pigtail, the fingers staying a bit too long in her hair. “Go meet up with Opa when this is all over.”There was worry carved onto Thor’s face, the same way it was carved onto the other boy’s memory. There was worry and pain and fury.Mr. Tony stepped forward; his hand still outstretched. Thor didn’t even bother to turn his head to look. Instead, he flicked his wrist, a hammer of all things coming up and slamming into Mr. Tony. The older man was thrown back, somehow hitting both Cannon and Punk, sending the three careening to the floor. They didn’t get back up.Oliver stepped back, her shoulder bumping into Loki as she tried to herd him towards the pilot that had started screaming obscenities just before the launch door had opened. Brother or not. God or not. Oliver was not letting anyone who was that angry near Loki.He was hers. He was her mission. She was going to be the one to kill him before anyone else. His brother could go rot in hell before she let him even try.Thor glared at her. “Move aside.”Something in the back of her mind snarled even as her blood began to surge. A wicked grin spread across her face and she leaned forward slightly, ignoring the not-so-gentle tug Loki gave to her shirt. “No.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The first time Thor had ever met his brother, he was half curled up on his mother’s skirts, fingers poking at the embroidery and beads that trailed along her hem as his mother hummed and ran a hand through his short hair. “Your father will be home soon.” His mother crooned softly, her fingers twisting just so.Thor pouted even as he traced the flowers that dotted his mother’s hem. “I am not worried.” He muttered even as something low in his gut twisted. His father had been gone for a while. Mother said father was doing something foolish with the ice giants.Somehow Thor didn’t think his father was having snowball fight, as Thor often did when the winter snow howled through the courtyards and the servant children gathered to hurl ice and snow, sometimes packed with rocks, at other offending invaders of forts. Mother called that activity foolish. Father said it was great practice.Thor simply thought it was fun.And Father was the King, so father could never be wrong.“Sweetie, what did you do today?” His Mother asked softly, her fingers still stroking through his hair.Thor shifted on the skirts, his eyes crossing as he tried to follow his mother’s hand through his bangs. “Well, I…”He trailed off as the door to his mother’s rooms opened with a bang, the guards in the hall shouting. The next few moments flew into a flurry of twisting skirts as his Mother stood and raised her voice just enough that Thor half wondered if he should duck out the servant’s entrance his Mother pretended to know nothing about. Still, his Mother stood in front of him and there was shouting in the hall and Thor wanted to be in front of his Mother to see the yellow sparks that lit up her hands and made her hair shine like spun gold.The tutors told him stories of molten gold and Dwarrows that could spin chains of gold so fine it felt like silk. They said it was prettiest sight in all the Nine Realms, but Thor didn’t think any of his tutors had seen his mother.His Mother was the prettiest.“Darling, I do hope you are not threatening the guards for doing their job.” His Mother scolded lightly, all the activity in the room seeming to freeze as the Queen sat back down on her chair.Thor poked his head around, his eyes widening at the sight of his Father in the doorway. On either side of his father, was a Valkyrie, their armour shining as their hands rested on the pommels of their swords as they stared his father down, arms flung out to the side to stop him from entering the room.“I bring you a gift my Queen.” His Father barked out as he glared at the Valkyries.His Mother tutted, her head shaking as she stood and waved a hand, the Valkyries instantly standing down and exiting the room with a bow. “You are still wearing your armour and,” his mother slid forward, her nose wrinkling as she clicked a finger against his shoulder, the blood and grime dropping away and disappearing into the wind that swirled through the open windows, “you do look a fright.”The wrinkles around his father’s eyes soften and Thor gagged. They were going to kiss.“Darling.” His mother’s voice was deceptively mild. “What have you brought me?”Thor paused, a small grin spreading across his face. Father was in trouble. For a moment, it seemed like father was about to try and back out of the room, when the bundle in Father’s arms began to cry. Thor blinked. That didn’t sound like another kitten. Darting around his mother, Thor reached up to tug on his Father’s belt, eyes widening as his father knelt and Thor saw what was in his father’s arms.“It’s a baby.” Thor said softly, his gaze flicking over to see his mother’s shocked face. Remembering when one of the servants had brought a baby into the kitchens, Thor just barely managed to keep his voice down as the baby shifted in his father’s hold. Holding out his arms, Thor looked up at his father hopefully. “Can I hold him?”Without a word, his father placed the baby in Thor’s arms. Freezing slightly under the warmth and the weight of the child, Thor tucked his head down and stared at the baby. He was so small.Distantly, Thor could hear his mother drawing herself up to her full height, her skirts rustling as she stalked forward. “What disrespect,” she hissed, her fingers forming claws in the folds of her skirts, “have you brought into my halls? I will not bring up a whore’s child, royal blood or not. Children belong with their mothers, All Father, or have you forgotten your wife’s station?” Her voice was frost and sounded like the winter winds and Thor cuddled the child closer.To his father’s credit, he didn’t back away. “The child’s parents are dead.”Backing away from his parents, Thor watched with wild eyes as his father seemed to grow, his shoulders squaring and his chin leveling as Thor’s mother bristled with indignation. “Are they, All Father? Did you check?”“My word is law.” His father thundered, his hand falling to his sword.“Not in these halls.” His mother stated calmly, her hands coming to fold together in front of her. “And if I find you have lied…” She trailed off slowly, her head held regally as his father hesitated, and finally, nodded.“Now, let me see the child.” His mother said, a smile gracing her features as she turned and knelt, her hands held out towards Thor.For a moment, Thor panicked. His parents didn’t argue. It just wasn’t done. Father went to the front and Mother stayed behind. She didn’t yell. She didn’t argue. And she certainly did not stand against his father. But, his father didn’t stand against her either. He, Thor stuck out his tongue, loved her. He even brought her a gift!And it was a baby!Astrid, one of the cooks, said that babies always needed to be looked after and taken care of and if mother was mad, would this baby be left alone?Thor held the baby closer to his chest. “He’s mine.”His mother blinked before slowly turning her head and looking towards his father. “I hope you know what you are doing.” She murmured.In Thor’s arms, the baby sniffled.…***…Loki, Thor discovered in the first few days of meeting his brother, liked to be cold. While Mother often tucked Loki into blankets and whispered words of warmth under her breath, Loki would squirm and scrunch up his nose, a put-upon expression crossing his tiny face. At first, Mother shook her head over the few instances she saw Loki pull his hats or even boots off, but soon after she simply took in the habit in a stride and easily replaced the unwanted clothing with a sigh or even a sweeping gesture. Magic insured that Loki's things stayed on him and Mother had been quite clear that babies who got cold became sick.At first, Thor wasn’t willing to risk pulling the blanket away from Loki. He slept on the other side of the nursery after all and Loki's cradle was on the opposite wall, too far for Thor to simply abandon his warm bed for a whimpering baby that he couldn’t even help. But after the fourth night of Loki's whimpers becoming even quieter, Thor was worried.Thor knew in a way that he couldn’t explain, that Loki didn’t like the warmth of the nursery. Or rather, Loki didn’t like the additional warmth of his swaddling blanket. Thor suspected the nursery was just the right temperature, what with the fire in the grate being banked and chilled to dull ash, but the blanket was making Loki worse.Loki hadn't been a quiet sleeper so far, but tonight Thor could have sworn Loki wasn’t in the room.Desperate, Thor climbed out of his bed and bolted across the room, one eye kept firmly on the door. Mother had posted a few of her Valkyries to the nursery when she had set up Loki's cradle. Supposedly they were there to fetch the queen should Loki suddenly begin to wail or if anything unusual happened, and Thor being awake past the stroke of twelve was certainly unusual.Reaching into Loki's cradle, Thor yanked his brother out of the swaddling cloth. Instantly his little brother latched onto his shirt and whimpered into Thor's collar. Quickly, Thor placed one hand against the back of Loki's head, steadying him just like Astrid had taught him, and glared at the blankets as he shuffled over to the window. Thankfully there was a cool breeze filtering through the open pane, and it was almost magic the way Loki seemed to slump at the contact of the cool air.Thor kept glowering at the blanket. This was all that bewitched cloth’s fault. Thor wasn’t asleep, Loki was distressed, and the nursery was far too cold for Thor's liking, but if the soft coo Loki was making was any indication, Loki absolutely adored it.Sliding down the wall, Thor thumped down the to the ground and placed Loki's back against his knees as he let the little pest play with his fingers. Loki cooed again, the soft little sounds made a smile twitch at Thor's lips even as he began to shiver slightly. “What am I going to do with you?” Thor murmured, his fingers absently brushing back Loki's soft hair. “You are going to grow up to be so much trouble.”Loki’s only response was an uncoordinated happy clap.…***…Licking his lips, Thor bounced on his tiptoes a bit, the excitement of the arena finally making him break the decorum his mother had been drilling into him all morning before she allowed him to leave her rooms. “What about Magic, sir?”“Magic,” Sindre droned as he peered down at Thor, his battle axe hefted over one shoulder, “has no place on the battlefield. It is a woman’s craft, better used for mending clothes, healing, and outlining protection. There is, of course, no shame in using magic, it just should be used for its intended purpose.”“Yes, sir.” Thor nodded quickly; one eye kept nervously on the axe on his tutor’s shoulder. It would do no good for him to have to be rescued from his teacher on his first day. His father would be so disappointed.Behind Sindre, a Valkyrie turned, her silver and blue armour shining in the dust of the arena. Her short sword was backed by a smaller hunting knife and Thor’s eyes widened as she rolled away from a strike and slashed forward, the sword slicing through the leather greaves in one smooth motion. Her smile turned feral as she sprung to her feet and it was in quick succession that she took down her opponent.The man she had pinned wasn’t smiling.“She cheated.” The man spat as he rolled away from the Valkyrie, one hand scabbling about for his own sword that the Valkyrie had kicked away. In front of Thor, Sindre stiffened, his head tilting as the commotion in the arena ground to a halt. The man on the ground scrambled up to his feet, anger twisting his features into a scowl. “It was a sanctioned duel and she used magic.” The last word was hissed out as a curse and Thor drew back, his gaze darting around in confusion as the other men seemed to grow taller out of anger.Sindre drew his axe down to his side as he turned and pinned the Valkyrie with an expression of distaste. “Is this true?”The Valkyrie drew her shoulders back in pride and Thor stared at her in shock as she nodded solemnly. Thor couldn’t imagine going against his tutor, not when his Father had made it clear that Sindre was not to be questioned. Sindre was the best in the arena and Thor was lucky to have his guidance.“The rules simply state that you are to win by any means necessary. Why should I not press any advantage?” The Valkyrie asked calmly as she belted her blade onto her hip.“It is trickery.” Sindre snarled, his hand flexing on his axe.The Valkyrie shook her head slightly, and oddly enough, met Thor’s eyes through the crowd in the arena. “It is survival.”Sindre seemed to shake as he took a step forward, his axe swinging around to land short of the Valkyrie’s neck. “To use Magic in the arena is a dishonour.” Thor’s tutor bit out, his eyes narrowed.The Valkyrie smiled as she leaned forward, the collar of her armour pinging as it tapped the axe. “Then it is a good thing I answer to the Queen and use my dishonourable ways for her defense.”Everyone in the arena seemed to hold their breath as the Valkyrie step sided Sindre’s axe and began to walk towards the exit. Stopping beside Thor, she held out a hand and smiled. “Come my Prince, your mother is expecting you for your evening lessons.”Walking out of the arena, hand firmly held by the Lady Valkryie, Thor pretended he couldn’t feel the smoldering glares drilling into the centre of his back.…***…“I will not have my son learning witchcraft!” Father thundered at the head of the table; his expression decidedly frosty as he glared at Mother.Stuck between his parents in private feasting hall, Thor tried not to flinch as his Mother calmly cut into her roast. “Don’t you mean sons?” she asked, her tone even as she turned to Loki and purposefully wiped at the corners of his mouth with a cloth. Even though Loki had been with them for two seasons, he still couldn’t eat without making a mess. Astrid said that Loki’s development was fast considering his age, (whatever that meant) but Thor thought his brother was still too tiny to be much help or even terribly interesting. He was a good listener though, when Thor needed to tell someone what had happened that day at lessons and he thought neither Mother nor Father would be interested.Father twitched, his knife clattering against the table as he slammed a hand down. “Do not test me, my wife.” The words bit into the air just like Thor imagined Nidhogg attempted to gnaw the roots of Yggdrasil, and Thor pulled his goblet closer in a futile attempt to hide.“And what about your runecraft?” Mother responded as she turned towards Thor, holding out a roll to him with a soft smile.Behind his goblet, Thor attempted to send back a shaky smile. The atmosphere at the table was thick enough to cut with a knife and Thor was positive that he was missing something. Magic, Mother had always told him, was a tool. It was just as useful as a stylus for his writing lessons or a sword in his classes with Sindre, but it was only as useful as the person who called upon it.All the Valkyries were able to call upon magic to aid them in both mundane tasks and in battle. Thor didn’t think Sindre or the other men liked that very much, but Thor thought it was amazing. The Valkyries could run circles around nearly everyone, often literally, and they would conjure up mirror images of themselves, encircling an opponent, tiring them down before striking.The men in the arena called them cowards but Thor rather thought they were smart. Thor was often too tired to defend himself properly after Sindre had him run laps about the arena, so Thor thought the Valkyries were being very clever about how they tired everyone out first. Although, Thor also thought the whole situation a bit suspicious considering the Valkyries had their own training arena in his Mother’s halls. There was no reason for them to train in his father’s arena. Maybe his Mother had asked them to keep an eye on him?Maybe he could ask them to train him too? Sindre wouldn’t mind too much, would he? These were the famous Valkyries after all!“Runecraft is noble.” Father snarled, his voice slicing through the air as he picked up his knife and cut off a hunk of the roast. His mouth held in a solid line of disapproval. “I also think it is high time Thor moved out of the nursery. The other boy is keeping him up too much at night.”Thor’s head shot up from where he was hiding behind the goblet, and he shot his mother a desperate glance. He couldn’t leave the nursery! What if Loki overheated at night? Who would bank the fire and curl up with Loki under the window? Who would hush Loki to sleep when he began to cry? Besides, if he left the nursery, would his Mother keep up her bedtime stories? Would Astrid be able to sneak him sweets? Would the Valkyries keep teaching him in quiet whispers about strategy and war?Thor’s panic nearly kept him from seeing his Mother gently pace her silverware beside her plate as she sat back in her seat. Her hands fell into her lap and her chin lifted slightly as she stared down the table at Thor’s father. “The children are my prerogative to teach and govern.” She stated coolly, her hand coming up to wave away the servant that ducked forward to refill her goblet.“Are you denying me access to my heir?” Father growled, the guards behind him straightening at their stations at the door.Mother smiled softly. “No darling. I simply remind you that your sons,” she stressed the plural for some reason, “are still children.”Typically, Thor would protest that he wasn’t a child. He was old enough to practice in the arena and to begin to learn a craft. He wasn’t a baby. But, Loki. Loki would be all alone in the nursery and Thor didn’t want him to become sick.What if something happened while he wasn’t there?…***…Thor's new room was too warm. Even with the fire banked and the windows thrown wide open, Thor found the room stifling. It was too warm to sleep and if Thor was too warm, then Loki was certainly suffering. For a few moments, Thor ran his fingers along the edge of his new blanket. It was late, the clocks had long since struck twelve, and Thor had no real reason to be sneaking about his father’s halls this late. But what if Loki got sick? Or he woke up? Or something happened? Thor’s hands paused on the blanket.He would have to sneak back into his old room.Mind made up, Thor slipped out of bed and slunk over to the far wall. When father had first showed him his new room, the servants had been in the middle of transferring his things, the passages still open leading to the back halls. Thor hadn’t seen how the wall opened but surely it couldn’t be too difficult?“My prince?”Thor swallowed a yelp as he turned, his back slamming against the wall as he grabbed at the toy sword near his feet. Sliding his feet part, Thor braced himself, his sword held in front of him ready to slash at whatever had dared to enter his room.Sindre would have complimented him for his quick thinking, Lady Kari of the Valkyrie would have pointed out that the weapon wasn’t Asgardian steel and therefore, near useless in any fight that could break out this far into friendly territory. Astrid, who as it turned out was standing in his doorway, simply raised an eyebrow. “It is much too late for princes to be playing.” She sniffed, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she fluttered a hand at him in distraction. “The Queen wishes your presence in your brother's room.”Well, that was convenient.Placing the sword on the bed, Thor nodded wordlessly as he slipped towards the hall, absently grabbing onto Astrid's proffered hand. “The Queen is not very happy with you, my prince.” She stated, her voice curving down in disapproval as she began to tug him through the halls, nodding to the guards distractedly as they passed different sentries and patrols.“Why did mother not send the Valkyrie?” Thor questioned when it seemed Astrid wasn’t going to do much more then mutter under her breath and tug him around corners.Astrid paused for a moment, her eyebrow raising as she looked down at him. “The Valkyrie do not leave your mother's halls.” She responded almost gently, something Thor couldn’t quiet name tugging at the corner of her mouth.Thor didn’t ask many questions after that.Wordlessly, Astrid lead him to his old room, Loki's room, and gestured for him to go in. Standing in the hall, Thor paused, his hand dropping away from Astrid's as he took in the frowning Valkyries and the closed door of the nursery. He had never been nervous (not frightened. He couldn’t be frightened. His father said that he was too old to be frightened of dark shadows and too big rooms. Thor was too big to be frightened by anything now.) of his old room before. It was his room. Even father hadn't dared enter his room before he had forced Thor to move halls. Now it was just Loki's room and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.One of the Valkyries, (it might have been Ingrid, he wasn’t sure) knelt, one hand going to thread through his hair. “Come now, my prince,” she whispered, her voice terribly soft even as she gave him a stern look, “you don’t want to keep your mother waiting.” With that said, Ingrid stood and pushed open the door, her eyes drilling into Thor until he took a step forward.Each step seemed to drag as if someone had locked Asgardian steel around his ankles and Thor suddenly wondered if maybe it had been better for him to have stayed behind. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong recently and it wasn’t as if he had left the nursery a mess considering he wasn’t to sleep there anymore. Thor hadn’t done anything so there was no reason for mother to be mad and everything was going to be fine because…Thor stopped dead two steps into the nursery.The fire was still roaring in the hearth, Loki's blankets were still settled over his pale form, and the window was firmly closed.Thor panicked.Loki was going to get sick!Rushing over to the window, Thor threw open the shutters before turning on his heel and grabbing the poker to scatter the logs in the hearth. The young prince wasn’t patient, only standing still long enough to see that the logs had been dashed into smoldering embers before he scrambled over to Loki's cradle and yanked him out from under the blankets. Habit had him backing up towards the windows and sinking down to sit under the cool breeze, Loki placed gently against his knees. Everything was going to be okay now. Loki wasn’t going to over heat, Thor was going to be able to sleep and mother could…It was only then, half folded under the window, Loki balanced against his knees, and his fingers firmly in the grasp of his brother, did he remember that his mother was in the room.Was this what his father felt like when mother became angered?Did he become fearful?If so, Thor couldn’t understand why the man would keep annoying his wife. Mother was scary and Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what her voice would sound like when that anger was directed at him. His heart in his throat, Thor slowly looked up from under the fringe of his hair.Mother didn’t appear to be mad, if anything she appeared to be bemused.“Does this happen every night?” Mother asked as she glided across the nursery, her face firmly settling into a blank mask.Not wanting to risk her wrath, Thor nodded quickly, his eyes wide. His mother's lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed as she took in the suddenly healthy glow on Loki's cheeks. Absently, Thor’s grasp on his brother tightened as he inched his knees closer to his chest, his forearm coming up to cover Loki's head. Thor was the one in trouble here, not Loki. And, since he didn’t dare put Loki down in the cradle quiet yet, covering him up and hoping mother didn’t focus on him was the next best option.Suddenly mother appeared terribly sad. “You do not have to protect your brother from me.” She whispered, one hand coming out to curl over his knee, her fingers just brushing against the soft down that was Loki's hair. “The Valkyries heard Loki crying.” She explained, her hand drawing back slightly before she reached out and curled her fingers through his hair, her eyes crinkling as he turned his head into her hand. “Lady Ingrid called me when it seemed Loki wouldn’t settle. We thought he missed you.”Relaxing now that it seemed his mother wasn’t mad, Thor lowered his arm and showed his mother how Loki was now contentedly asleep. “I know you said that babies who got cold became sick, but Loki doesn’t like the heat.” He explained tentatively, his hands curling into fists as he gestured towards the cradle. “And that blanket always makes him cry.”For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Mother was still, her cheeks suddenly white as she glanced between the open window, the cradle, the hearth, and the small form in Thor's arms. Then she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You have made your mother proud.” She murmured into his hair and Thor couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his face. “But you must promise me that you never tell anyone about how different your brother seems.”Mother’s voice was odd, a calm tone mixed with forced cheer and the smile on Thor's face suddenly died. “Loki is my brother,” Thor near growled, his hands clutching at Loki's sleeping shirt, “there is nothing wrong about him.”Mother looked like she was going to cry.…***…Loki was bleeding.“T’or! T’or! Ouchie!” Loki babbled from where he had plopped down onto his bottom, his eyes wide as he stared in bafflement at the long thin scratch on his arm.Thor stared in horror. Loki was bleeding. His little brother, the baby, the annoyance who had begun to totter after him a mere handful of seasons after he had been claimed by their father, was bleeding. The worst part about this situation, Thor realized near instantly, was not that his brother’s blood was blue, or even that he would have to explain this to their mother, but that Loki had some how, inexplicably, found a knife.In the middle of the courtyard.In his mother’s halls.Loki had found a knife and it wasn’t Thor's.Even worse, Loki had found a knife and he was still holding onto it.Then things got a little chaotic.Thor might have panicked and lunged forward because no matter what his father thought, Loki was too young to handle knives and he did not want to have to explain this horrible situation to his mother. At the same time, someone yelled something Thor could barely hear over the roar of blood in his ears, and something silver flashed out of the corner of his eye.Instinctively, Thor ducked. His hands landed under Loki's armpits and Sindre's lessons of roll up to your feet damnit! I am teaching a young prince, not an idiot! Had Thor throwing himself forward into a summersault, Loki cradled against his chest, the knife somehow in one of Thor's hands, and back up to his feet, already running the moment he had his legs under him. Ice spiked in his veins and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.Something was wrong.There were screams behind him. Valkyrie were pouring out of the corridors and into the courtyard, fury etched into their faces. Lady Ingrid was gesturing for him to come forward. Astrid was rushing Corey and the over servant children behind the screaming Valkyrie and Thor could not understand what was going on.Thor could not understand what was going on and Loki was bleeding and he was positive someone was screaming but he couldn’t tell who and something wasn’t right. And he didn’t dare look back because that same thing that was telling him nothing was right, was also telling him that looking back would mean death and pain and Thor wanted nothing to do with that.But, he knew something wasn’t right and as he stumbled into the stone of his mother's halls all Thor could do was hope to Yggdrasil and anyone who was listening that his brother would stop bleeding. Loki had to stop bleeding because he was normal and normal blood wasn’t blue and Thor needed something about this situation to be simple.Lady Ingrid's hand was on his shoulder and there were more Valkyrie around him, and someone shouted something about getting his mother and Thor began to panic. Mother already gave Loki odd looks sometimes when he did something unexpected and Thor didn’t understand and Loki's blood couldn’t be blue.So, in the sudden and terrible silence of the stone corridor, with his mother rushing down the hall towards him, knives spinning and yellow sparks flashing, there a slight tug on something behind his ribs. Thor stumbled, more out of surprise then hurt, because his blood positively sang. There was a roar in his ears, a hum in his blood, silver sparks in front of his eyes, and suddenly Loki's blood wasn’t blue.It was red.Loki's blood was red, there was a knife in his hand, Lady Ingrid was shouting, mother was frantic, and Thor was tired. Thor hadn’t even been this tired after Sindre had beat him into the ground that one time when he had left a training sword out in the rain, discarded in the mud. The roar in his ears had dulled into a soft ringing and Thor was left standing in the hall, Loki balanced on his hip and a knife in his other hand.He was left standing in the hall, his mother and Lady Ingrid standing before him and he felt tired and old.Slowly, Thor looked at the knife, his gaze catching on the Crest his father had pointed to only days before in a dusty old book, saying that it meant evil, corruption, and traitors, even while Lady Kyra had whispered that night of defiance and pride and death. And Thor, a child but also a prince, and old enough to stand beside his Father's throne on court days, if even for only an hour, looked towards his mother and realized two things.First, someone had tried to kill him or Loki, he wasn’t sure which.Second, he had just done magic and no one had even noticed.The obvious response to all this, Thor thought as he began to list to the side, was hysterical laughter, because why had no one told him his mother could fight without magic?…***…Magic, Thor learned weeks later as he sat between the stacks in his mother's library, a tome on his knee and Loki curled up around a cloth eagle, his eyes fluttering as he napped, was formless and woven into the very fabric of the universe. Life couldn’t exist with out magic and magic couldn’t exist with out life. Most of the other terminology went over Thor's head but what he did understand told him that what he done to Loki's blood was both impressive and foolish to the extreme. Loki's blood was still blue, that hadn’t changed, what had changed was how everyone else saw it.In basic terms, because Thor was reading the apprentice guidebook (he had checked), Thor had cast a glamore and may the gods help anyone who tried to unravel it. Because, as Thor was quickly beginning to realize, magic took years of study and incantations and intention, layered over a boatload of luck, and Lady Fate's whim. Thor hadn’t just done magic out of desperation, he had done it on instinct and fear.If Thor was using the terms the book was, then he had a gift and a moral obligation to further his abilities.But, if Thor was ‘gifted' then Loki, little toddler Loki, was a genius. Loki, whose skin flickered colors when he was tired or too warm, who moved toys when Thor was too busy to give him the wooden soldier from the top shelve, who could change his shape when startled, was terrifying.And besides, there was his father to think about. His father, the king, the man who swore that true magic was in runes and sigils that had always seemed dead to Thor's gaze. His father said runes could be exploited for battles, the only ‘true' magic allowed in the arena. Runes had never felt right to Thor. They had always been dead and useless and wrong.But Loki could do Magic and he did it without study, and what would that gift become if someone could teach him?Father might allow one son to know magic, especially if that son was not in line for the throne, but he would never allow two. He would never allow two sons to delve into the realm his wife had sworn allegiance towards, and Thor knew it.Thor might have a spark of a gift but his brother's entire being was seeping magic from his pores and Thor wanted to sit down and cry. That bright spark? That feeling of comfort, love, acceptance, power, and everything else wonderful under the sun? He was going to have to bottle it up and throw it away, because this was his brother.This was his best friend.This was Loki.Thor needed him to be safe, and if that meant forcing his gift to accept runes and sigils, to work with dead words and stilted images, then so be it.He would never say a word.

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Just like every other day, Loki flopped down onto Thor's bed, an arm thrown dramatically over his face as he let out a theatrical groan. “Mother is trying to murder me.” He announced, rolling easily to his side when Thor kicked his hip. “And she keeps repeating the same lesson and I would like to learn something new!”“And this matters to me, because…?” Half propped up by his headboard, Thor scowled into his tactical book Sindre had shoved at him the night before. Irritation battled with pride as Loki glanced up at him and Thor tapped his bare foot against Loki's side again. Every other week Loki was dragged to their mother's rooms and taught magic. Thor never went, but from what his brother babbled about and the small smile of pride Mother showed whenever Loki did something particularly clever, Loki was good at magic.Very good.Although, that fact didn’t make the ache in Thor's chest lessen whenever he saw green sparks dashing across his brother's fingers. His brother was a genius. A prodigy. He made mother smile like no one else and Thor was proud. But, at the same time, some small part of him hated Loki. He hated the way Loki could walk beside their mother with easy steps and quick smiles. He hated how Loki could change his appearance with a wink and a smirk. He hated how Loki could bow out from Court Days and walk into the city without a host of Valkyrie or guards.He hated Loki, but he loved him so much.Because, even when his blood boiled and Loki inadvertently threw Thor's ‘lack’ of magic in his face, Thor still never said a word. He never said a word about how that spark in his chest would crackle and scream. He never said how working with runes made him want to be sick on his father's boots, and he never said how much Loki's magic raced across his skin like a physical manifestation of safety.Thor had made a promise and he intended to keep it.…***…“My sons, come sit with me.”The sudden order had Thor freezing mid strike, his practice sword hovering a hand’s width away from the post Sindre had installed in the courtyard between his mother and father's halls. Somewhere behind him Thor knew that Loki lay sprawled on the grass, his books scattered carelessly on the stone path. Thor's breathing hitched and he stared at the post for a long moment, half wondering if Loki had decided to play another trick.Mother encouraged Loki's tricks. A smile curling around her mouth as she often explained that it helped train his father’s guards and Loki's mischief kept his magic sharp. Loki's tricks were not malicious. It was a fake doorway here, a secondary shadow there, quill that seemed stuck to the floor permanently, and the royal colors switched around on the Crest. Loki's tricks never hurt anyone and they never made anyone's pay get docked or jobs lost.Thor had made sure of that.But, if this was another one of Loki's tricks, Thor was going to chase him about the courtyard and give him a good thrashing. Mother hadn’t requested Thor to sit with her since Thor had begun to be tutored alongside the few noble children in the city. Father said he was too old to be coddled now and since Loki was still in the nursery alone, mother should focus her attention there.If only his father new that Loki hadn’t slept alone a day in his life. Before Loki could walk, Thor had snuck down to the nursery himself. Mother had never told him he wasn’t allowed and the Valkyries always seemed happy to see him, often sitting him down and teaching him counter to Sindre's lessons. After Loki could walk and sneak about, well, Thor's bed was big enough for two.Turning, Thor brought the sword down to his side and stared. His mother was sitting on the ground, her skirts becoming wrinkled in the grass, and Loki was half curled into her side, his head turned to stare up at her with something Thor could only call adoration.This was no trick, Thor decided suddenly. Loki wasn’t that good of a liar. Not yet anyway. Staring at the scene, a lump became lodged in Thor's throat. This was the most relaxed he had ever seen of either his mother or brother. Fingers flexing on the hilt of the sword, Thor somehow managed to stagger over to his mother and sit a few feet from her skirts.He was crown prince. He was Thor Odinson and even with his mother staring at him with her sad little smile, he would not shame his father. He would not act weak. He would not allow either guard or Valkyrie to see him behave childishly. He would act better. He would act like his father's son, no matter how desperately he wanted to run his fingers over the embroidery of his Mother's skirts and feel her hands run through his hair.He wasn’t allowed.His mother gave him a soft smile and for a split second, Thor knew his mother was aware. His mother knew what was racing through Thor's mind and even if she didn’t approve, she wasn’t going to argue with him.That discussion would be held with his father.“Would you like a story?” Mother asked, her eyes distant in a way that told Thor she was Seeing something else.Beside her, Loki groaned. “I'm too old for stories mother.”Shifting, Thor dragged his sword across his knees, his fingers absently tracing nonsense into the steel. “I would like a story.” He whispered softly, not having to turn his head to know that Lady Ingrid was smiling in approval in the shadows.Loki shot him a disgruntled look but Thor paid no attention. It wasn’t often Mother saw things, and it was even rarer for her to divulge anything seen. As if sensing his thoughts, Mother smiled. “Once, in a distant land,” she began, yellow sparks flashing across her fingers in a way that told Thor this story was true in ways more then one, “there were three shield brothers: Honour, Strength, and Sacrifice…”…***…“But I wanted to be Strength!” Loki pouted, his arms crossed.Thor pretended not to hear him as his new classmate, Sif, ran across the field, her hair streaming behind her as she jumped onto Volstagg's back. Father and some of his nobles had decided that placing all the children of similar ages together for tutoring and classes would be an excellent idea. Part of Thor wanted to be disgruntled by the sudden appearance of other children, but mostly he was pleased. Mother approved of Sif, Hogan, Fandral, and Volstagg, she thought it was good for him, and when Thor heard his new friends shrieking in laughter, he was hard pressed to disagree.So, after Sif had managed to pout and make her lips wobble in Teacher Cuyler’s face, all five of them had been let out from the library, Loki meeting them in the courtyard. It had been Loki's idea to act out the stories mother had been telling the six of them when she bullied her way into teaching them all on their days off. And, in all fairness, Loki should have been able to choose who he wanted to be from the list of characters, but Sif had handed out the titles and Thor hadn’t felt like arguing.Realistically, it wasn’t hard to see why Sif had kept Strength for herself, not when Thor conceded the fact she had singlehandedly whacked all of the boys on the heads with her staff in the same afternoon. Then, after collecting her debts from them all, she had marched to the corner of the training arena and proceeded to embroider a handful of flowers onto a scarf for her Lady Mother. No, Strength was the perfect fit for Sif.“But Thor, I'm the best with knives!” Loki whined, his arms still folded petutaly over his chest.Thor turned him out with an absent nod as he unconsciously rubbed a hand over his forearm. It was true. Loki was the best with knives out of the six of them, often catching Thor unawares during their training with the Valkyrie. With a slight smile, Thor had to admit that if Loki kept using magic and distraction, Thor would never catch him during their fights.Thor had never been prouder.If Thor couldn’t catch him and Lady Ingrid had a hard time finding him, then Loki was safe from nearly everything. No one would hurt him and Thor could sleep easy knowing Loki was safe. It chafed at him that Thor couldn’t keep Loki safe himself but a sacrifice was a sacrifice. Thor's magic for the opportunity for Loki to hone his skills. It was a more then fair deal Thor thought. Loki was safe and Thor couldn’t ask for more.Still, today Sif had managed to steal the honour of being Strength. Valstagg had chosen to be Wolf, which considering how fast Valstagg could be, was no surprise. Fandrel had been given Honour, which Thor thought was more an indication of Sif's sense of humor then anything else. Fandrel was a scoundrel, an idiot who thought attempting to smile and flutter his lashes at the Valkyrie would get him something, anything, other then a sound thrashing. Hogan had gotten to be Loyalty, the planner and thinker. The one who swooped in with the perfect amount of planning and mercy. Thor thought it fitting to the character of the quiet noble.Then there was Thor and Loki.Loki got to be the Red Skull, and for all his whining, Thor knew Loki wasn’t too disappointed. As the youngest, the others tended to baby Loki and Loki revelled in the opportunity to get back at them. Thor could already see the slashes in clothing and the bruises Loki would leave as he slunk across the battlefield, knives held at the ready.Thor just thanked every deity he could think of that Loki wasn’t allowed to carry anything other then blunt knives during his lessons.“Sacrifice again?” Hogun murmured as Loki spun around in a huff and bolted after Sif with a mad cackle, drawing Thor out of his thoughts.For a moment, all Thor could do was attempt to keep from grimacing. The title was fitting in more ways then one. Sacrifice. The final Shield Brother. The one who Mother saw the most. The others might have seen Sacrifice as the best out of the bunch, reserving him for the prince, but Thor couldn’t help but think of Mother's pained expression anytime she whispered Sacrifice’s latest scheme to Thor. Sacrifice was named that for a reason, Thor had realized quickly as the stories were weaved. Sacrifice always won, but at a cost.Thor wasn’t sure what it meant that he kept being given the dubious honour of being Sacrifice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.Hogan shook his head. “The Lady Queen does not tell nice stories.”Thor gave the noble a side-eyed glance. “You noticed.”The slight chuckle had Thor shooting the other boy a surprised glance even as Hogan grabbed onto his shoulder and gave him a solemn look. “You, my prince, are better at hiding your sparks then your brother is.”What happened next was justified, Thor later told himself, considering the pure unadulterated shock that coursed through his veins at Hogan's statement. Hogan had probably meant his words to be a comfort, but all Thor could think was how could he know? Thor hadn’t told anyone. No one knew about his magic. No one knew that he had only ever used it intentionally to keep the temperature around him cool enough for Loki to relax and for him to help Loki's tricks. Loki had never managed to change the colour of his eyes, except to red, so when Loki had to change and Thor was near, Thor always made sure to make it appear Loki had changed eye colour.Thor had always been so careful, only ever slipping during training when he had to duck or aim for a particularly difficult target. The ache in his chest jumped at the chance to be helpful and Thor knew he appeared to be a prodigy in the arena, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the way the ache in his chest screamed and begged to be helpful, somehow becoming louder as the seasons changed. It didn’t help that runes just made the ache worse.So, in retrospect, Thor should not have been surprised when, instead of shoving Hogan away with a shaky scowl, silver sparks that screamed and burned slammed into Hogan and threw him across the courtyard. As always, the Valkyrie reacted first, streaming into the courtyard with sparks of their own fluttering across staves and fingers, eyes searching for an enemy that was not there. Hogan was on the ground, convulsing, his eyes wide as he arched in pain and Thor fought the urge to turn on his heel and run.Between one breath and the next, Loki was standing in front of him, both hands reaching for Thor and Thor didn’t think. He reacted.Hogan was on the ground. There were silver sparks purring around Thor's fingertips. Loki's eyes were wild. The Valkyrie were tense. Sif, Fandrel, and Valstagg had ended up back to back, practice swords held at the ready, gazes flicking across the courtyard, their shoulders far too tense. Everyone was on guard for an enemy.It made sense. There was an attack, therefore there had to be an attacker.What would everyone do when they realized it was Thor who had attacked Hogan?What would his father say?Thor flinched back from his brother, hands curling around his elbows as he folded in on himself. What had he done? What had he done?“I…” he choked on his words, the silver still crackling around him, growing as he panicked. He hadn't meant it. He hadn’t meant to hurt Hogan. He hadn’t meant to do anything. He…The ache in his chest grew, a snarling thing that screamed as his breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t let it hurt someone else. He couldn’t let it hurt anyone. He couldn’t let it hurt Loki.Oh gods, what if he hurt Loki?“…or…thor…Thor…THOR!!!” Loki's panicked tone broke through his thoughts and Thor once again reacted.Loki was cowering back, his hands twisting in the grass, his eyes wide. That was wrong. Loki didn’t cower. Loki should never cower. It didn’t suit him. There was a humming in Thor's ears that was quickly turning into a roar.Someone was threatening his brother.The ache in his chest screamed and the silver arched over his arms. Someone, Thor thought darkly as he registered movement in the corner of his eye, was going to die for hurting his brother.The ache seemed to growl in agreementThor turned, a snarl falling from his lips as he bared his teeth in challenge. He didn’t question how he suddenly knew where every piece of metal was in the courtyard. He didn’t spare a thought to how the sky above him darkened and roared a challenge. He didn’t think to wonder how he knew that grabbing onto his target would make things more precise and how what he was about to do would make the ache go away.All Thor knew was that he reached out, grabbed onto the shirt of the man that had dared to hurt his brother, and pulled. Something above him screamed and the world disappeared. The ache in his chest twisted, purring as it settled into something Thor recognized as safety and comfort, and Thor slowly opened his eyes, belatedly realizing that at some point he had shut them.His mother stood before him, her hands cradling his cheeks. “Oh darling,” she whispered, her hair a bit frazzled but otherwise appearing to be fine, “why didn’t you tell me it hurt?”For a moment, all Thor could do was stare. He had… He had… he had done something and he had tried to do that something against his own mother.Father was going to kill him. Loki was going to be the crown prince and the Nine Realms would never know what hit them. Loki was going to be phenomenal at the job Thor had just failed spectacularly in and mother would be so proud of Loki. Thor would be so proud of Loki.Loki would be…Thor turned around, his heart in his throat. Loki has been scared but there had been nothing behind Thor.There had been nothing behind Thor and Loki's eyes were too wide and Thor was going to be sick.Was Loki scared of him now?

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“Are you happy?” His mother hissed.Thor couldn’t imagine his mother doing anything so unclothed as hitting a table or waving her hands through the air like common rabble, but he knew she had to be doing something to make his father be quiet. Behind the door, Thor let his head fall onto his knees while his shoulders crept up around his ears. Mother had managed to settle the sparks after a few moments of tense silence.Mother hadn't bothered to tell him to calm down or explain, and Thor was rather grateful for her consideration, but the appalled looks the Valkyrie had shot him told Thor the conversation was long from over. The Valkyrie had drilled into him season after season that magic was a gift. It was to be fostered and revered. To the Valkyrie, and to a lesser extant, his mother, what Thor had done was disgraceful.In his mother's sitting room, the Valkyrie continued to stared, and under Lady Ingrid's grave expression Thor fought not to fidget. Even with his head bowed, Thor knew Lady Ingrid was glaring twin holes into the side of his head and if it weren’t for having to bear the weight of his father's disappointment everyday, Thor would have cracked under her invoiced disapproval.Behind the door, Thor could hear his mother pacing. After the sparks had sunk back into Thor's skin, his mother had hauled the children into her halls with a brisk order of summons to be sent his father. Thor had been expecting a solid thrashing when Hogan had been deposited into the sitting room alongside Valstagg, Fandrel, Loki, and Sif. But the Valkyrie had done nothing but stare and Loki had taken one look at him before flipping down to curl into Thor's side, his fingers twining into Thor's clenched fists.Thor's breath had caught in his throat and he had stared in disbelief as Sif flopped down on his ankles, Valstagg curled against his thigh, Fandrel leaned against his other shoulder, and Hogan… Hogan leaned against the chair opposite to them all and smiled, his muscles still twitching slightly as the after shocks filtered through his system.“Your son rejected his magic…” Mother stated calmly. Almost too calmly. Beside Thor, Loki gulped, his eyes flicking up to catch Thor's gaze before he shifted further into Thor's side. This, Thor thought as he tried not to jostle anyone, was not going to end well. “…And now his magic is wild.”“Runes will shape his control.” Father said, his voice booming through the walls, loud where Mother had been near silent.“Runes have destroyed his natural ability! Continuing this path will kill him.” Mother’s voice was still too even, too calm for Thor's liking.Loki whined, the sound sharp and distressed, Thor didn’t think when he untangled his hand and began to thread his fingers through Loki's black locks. Loki was frightened, of course Thor was going to comfort him. At Thor's feet, Sif slowly clocked her head to the side while Valstagg and Fandrel bowed their heads.Hogan broke the sudden silence. “I did say you hid your sparks well.”The words jabbed into Thor like Sindre's sharp tongue and heavy hand, and Thor fought the ache that curled behind his ribs. “I'm sorry.” He croaked, the ache in his chest turning into something like an inch. It seemed all he could do today was apologize.Hogan waved him off. “Sindre's love taps hurt more then this.”Thor eyed the noble warily. He had been submitted to Sindre's ‘love taps' more then once, painless would not be the way he described them. Bone deep bruising was a better description, more accurate too.“I'm sorry.” He whispered again, it wasn’t likely Hogan would believe him or even accept the apology, but Thor had to try. He was still in shock the other children allowed him to touch them, let alone sit beside him, draped over his limbs like overgrown puppy dogs. “I didn’t mean to…”Thor trailed off. He didn’t mean to what? Hurt Hogan? Cause the other children to look at him as if he was the All Father himself? Make Hogan scream and sob? Make the others fear an attack? Nearly blow up his mother?“Be grateful your son inadvertently found a way to siphon his magic in a way that will not cause his death or you would have your youngest as crown prince.”“I will not have Loki as crown prince!” his father shouted, seemingly ignoring the rest of his wife's warning.When mother replied, she seemed wary and worn. “Then don’t force Thor to call upon runes. Runes are dead to wild magic users. We use instinct and emotion to call upon magic, you use force and will.”“My son will not learn magic!” his father insisted.Thor could almost imagine his mother shaking her head. “He already is.”For a moment, Thor was confused. He hadn't been learning magic! He had been slogging through dust and mud, training with Sindre.Loki shifted, his head popping up enough for him to huff out drily. “Obviously. I’ve been learning magic for years.”Thor gave a little start, his eyes opening wide as he stared down at Loki then tilted his head enough to stare at the wall his mother stood behind. His mother hadn't lied. Loki had been learning magic for years. A smile curled around Thor's lips. And people wondered where Loki had learned his craftiness.…***…Magic, Thor was learning, was more trouble then it was worth. He couldn’t cast spells like his mother, he couldn’t create illusions or shape-shifting like his brother, and he certainly couldn’t use runes like his father.However, he could set things on fire (accidentally) and he had a terrible habit of electrocuting people when startled. Sindre no longer grappled with him, the Valkyrie had stopped patting him on the head, and even Loki had stopped draping himself over Thor's shoulders when bored. Only mother seemed brave enough to touch his skin, running her fingers through his hair and fiddling with his collar whenever she managed to catch him standing still.If it weren’t for the fact Thor was desperate to feel something he would have been ducking away from her searching fingers long ago. As it was, Thor had a sneaking suspicion that mother knew Thor needed a gentle touch. Knew that Thor needed to be reminded that not every movement meant a spark and not every spark meant a yell and a flinch. Thor had seen enough blackened flesh to last him a lifetime and he knew the air around him constantly smelled like a summer storm, fresh, burnt, dangerous.The fact he had burned down nearly a quarter of his mother's halls after being startled awake by a Valkyrie should have been proof enough that the warning his magic oozed was far more accurate then he would have liked to admit.“You will grow into it.” His mother promised as she ran her hands over his shoulders, pressing out the wrinkles of his new cloak.Thor eyed his mother warily, at this point he wasn’t sure if she was referring to his magic or his cloak. From the smile she gave him as she turned back to her needle work, Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The cloak was red and long, draping past his feet and pooling onto the floor in a way that Thor knew would trip him with every step he took. It was also made out of his mother's drapes, the only thing that had been salvageable from the wing he had near burned to the ground. Mother still hadn't forgiven him and he knew the cloak was to serve as a reminder to at least attempt not to burn Asgard to a crisp.He wasn’t even allowed to shock Loki!“At least you got a cloak.” Loki muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his skin rippling in a way that told Thor his brother was discontented. “I got a cat.”Looking over at his brother, Thor had to fight to hold in a chuckle. Standing in their mother's sitting room, Loki was holding the black and white ball of fluff as far away from his body as possible. From what Thor could see, the beast's whiskers were near longer than its body, which was a feat considering the sheer size of the thing, and Thor was positive he had never seen a more discontented cat.Mother looked up, her needle work being placed to the side as she gave Loki a disappointed look. “Do be careful, he is still a kitten.” She warned, tutting as the beast let out a terrified mew.Thor's eyes widened as he shared an incredulous look with his brother. That thing was a kitten? It was near bigger than Loki! His brother could probably have ridden it into battle if he so desired.The beast mewled again.“What are you going to name it dear? My cats are fiercely protective you know, and this one has taken such a liking to you.” Mother commented, glaring at Loki until the boy cradled the beast close.Loki paused, his fingers winding into the beast's fur, only to relax when a purr made Loki near vibrate in place. Surprisingly, instead of pitching a fit, as Thor expected him to, Loki curled into the fluff and hummed. “I think I shall name it Snake.”This, Thor thought as he glanced between his mother and brother's twin grins of mischief, was going to make his father's guard's recruitment that much harder.Thor was not going to explain any of this to his father. He'd let the Valkyrie have that honour.…***…The first time Snake pawed open Thor's door and trotted in with a still wiggling green snake held gingerly between his jaws, Thor laughed until his vision swam. Loki didn’t seem to find the situation funny if the snake bite on his hand had anything to say about it.Hopefully his brother wasn’t venomous.…***…“The people are content!” Thor snarled as he paced in front of his mother, his hands flexing, silver sparks jumping around his knuckles as he fought the urge to claw at the walls and scream.“I am aware.” His mother hummed as she picked at her needle work, her brow furrowing as she brought the cloth closer to her face in an attempt to see the threads. “And I am happy you are taking such a vested interest in the Kingdom.”“We are peaceful!” Thor hissed, his hand flicking out to gesture for the Valkyrie to fall back out of the room as he plowed over his mother's comment. He trusted the Valkyrie with his life and the lives of his mother and brother. He did not trust them with his father. At the moment, he couldn’t fault their disdain for his father. Not when his blood boiled and his father's latest decree boomed through his skull.“We are safe. Our allies are safe! There is no threat!” Thor continued, his hands still flexing, eventually coming up to twine through his braids as he sank down onto the chair that was steadily becoming his. “Why is father doing this?”His mother gave him a sharp look. “We are not to question the will of the King.” She rebuked sharply, her needlework skidding across the top of her side table as she pulled Thor's hands into her own with a soft shake.“You do!” Thor pointed out, immediately knowing he had crossed a line when his mother drew herself up and gave him a frosty glare.“It is one thing for the Queen to question behind closed doors. It is quiet another for the Crown Prince to disagree in front of the entire court.” She snapped, her words becoming clipped. “You will do as your King commands and you will do it without complaint or disagreement.”“He is my father.” Thor argued, already knowing he wasn’t going to win.“He is your king.” The reminder was not gentle and the words slipped between his ribs easier then one of Loki's knives.Thor closed his eyes. “The King has declared war.” He whispered, his hands clenching together in front of him. “The King as declared war and we march next week.”In all honesty, Thor knew he was in shock. He knew his hands shouldn’t shake, his breath shouldn’t catch, and his heart shouldn’t pound, but here he sat. His mouth was dry, his hands shook silently, and he fought the urge to plead with his mother as he hadn’t since Loki had been dropped into his arms.His father had declared war on a colony Asgard has sent out long before Thor's birth. Apparently the chieftain was refusing to send tribute and had attempted to stake his independence from the All Father's reach. Personally, if it wasn’t for the fact Thor thought his father was bored, this war wouldn’t have been happening.To make matters worse, this wasn’t even a true war. It was a colony. When Thor had heard his mother ripping into his father, he had slipped into the library and sorted through the records until he had found some mention of the place. The phrase “sent away…reward,” and “ordered no contact with the throne,” told Thor more than anyone else would have ever mentioned to the Crown Prince.Someone had disobeyed his father's orders and had been exiled as a result. The so-called rebellion was more an attempt at civil war than anything else. And, maybe he was more his father's son than Thor would like to admit, but Thor was surprised his father had even let traitors to the crown walk away alive, let alone with a whole family in tow. His father never let threats just walk away, it simply wasn’t done.There had to be something else going on.“Thor, my son, you are Crown Prince.” His mother whispered, her eyes strangely downcast as she ripped out another stitch. “Be grateful your father has not decided to take both heirs to the front line.”Whatever thought, whatever argument, whatever hope had been building in the back of Thor's throat, died. Lady Ingrid would be disappointed, Thor thought has he bowed his head and tried not to scream, he was too easy to manipulate. Everyone knew that any threat to Loki, real or imagined, would tie his hands and bind his tongue.His father would get his war and Thor would spend the next few seasons on the battlefield.Odin would be pleased.…***…“Well, it’s TRUE!” Loki snarled, his hands fisting in Thor's cloak. “Father is not overly fond of my presence.”It was the first time in many a season that Thor had thought to be grateful Loki still found solace tucked into Thor’s room. Since the first incident with lightening, no one had dared to barge into Thor's rooms without first informing the prince, the result left Thor with plenty of warning to any intrusion. However, that didn’t mean his room was safe. The walls, Thor had learned long ago, had ears.Only Mother and a select handful of the Valkyrie were able to mask themselves from the rumour mill, but even that was a difficult task that was more trouble than it was worth.“Be quiet.” Thor hissed, his hand slamming overtop of Loki's mouth, ignoring how the boy snarled and squirmed. His mother's warning of the front line crawled through Thor's thoughts and he glared at his brother. “We do not question the King.”Loki jerked away from Thor's hand, his eyes wide with what Yhor thought to be betrayal. “He is not my father.”For a moment, all the blood in Thor's body froze even as something clawed at his ribs. Sparks jumped around his knuckles and he stared at Loki, his eyes wide. Loki was not to know he was adopted, decree of the king.Who had told Loki the truth?Eyeing the sparks warily, Loki leaned back, seemingly not noticing the true cause of Thor's turmoil. “I renounce Odin as my father.” Loki declared, his head dipping into a sharp nod.Thor stared, the blood in his veins switching from frost to a boiling rage in moments. How dare he? How dare Loki revoke the protections Thor had furiously worked to put in place from the moment Loki had been settled into his arms. How dare Loki place himself in this type of danger? How dare Loki do this to Thor? To their mother?If father heard about this and if father even thought for one moment that Loki was disloyal… the thought made Thor shiver. With the war looming on the horizon and orders about to come crashing down onto Thor's shoulders, rumours of Loki's tricks and disloyalty was not something Thor would be able to control. At best, Loki would be reprimanded and confined to his rooms, at worst…?Thor's imagination seemed to be stuck between having Loki be kicked out of the castle, no money or title to his name, and having Loki joining them at the front as cannon fodder. Either way, Thor would be forced to bow before his mother and explain that Loki was gone. There was no body, no ashes to scatter, no mound to mark. Loki would be dead and Thor would be alone.Alone.The only heir.Thor's hands curled into the front of Loki's collar. His lips curled back from his teeth and for the first time Thor understood what Sindre meant when he said there was a rage that could burn away everything but what was on front of you. Servants be damned. Their father be damned. The world be damned. Loki was his brother and Thor was never going to be alone. Thor had taken Loki into his arms all those years ago. Thor was the one who made sure Loki didn’t overheat. Thor was the one who gave up his magic for Loki to be safe. Thor had done those things, nobody else.And Loki was going to toss that away because of a tantrum.“He is your father.” Thor wasn’t sure how he managed to grit out his words. His teeth were clenched together so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked.Loki simply laughed, his hands coming up to tug at Thor's wrists. “Odin always liked you better.”There was blood rushing through his ears and Thor's fingers twisted into the fabric of his brother's tunic hard enough to tear. If it hadn’t been for the rage beating a tattoo on the back of his ribs and something in the back of his head screaming wordlessly, Thor would have released his brother immediately when Loki flinched at the sound. Instead, Thor loomed over his brother with a wordless snarl.Thor didn’t have the coyness of his mother or the political mind of his father, what he had instead was an blunt tongue and a sharp wit that Thor had developed more out of survival than instinct. “You do not want to recognize the All Father as your father?” Thor bit out, his words seeming to ring in  his room. “If you will not be an Odinson than do you deny being a Friggason?”It was a dirty shot, Thor knew, but Thor was desperate. He himself wished some days that there was a way to distance himself from his father. As crown prince it would never happen but Loki was not bound by such morals and responsibilities. The court would grumble and sneer but the reality was that Loki was the Queen's gift from Odin himself, if Loki chose to defend himself by their mother, than it could almost be an expected alliance. Loki was not bound to their father the same way Thor was, and while being Friggason would limit Loki in ways Odinson hadnt, it would also give him more freedom in the Queen's Court.“Do you deny being Mother's son?”From the look on Loki's face, Thor might have well stabbed him. “I…I… well…. No, but… Mother…” Loki stumbled over his words, his eyes wide as he pushed himself away from Thor's hands, the fabric of his tunic shredding as he slipped back onto the bed.Forcing himself to his feet, Thor crossed his arms, his shaking hands clamping down onto his forearms. “You are not stupid, brother mine,” Thor murmured, fighting the rage in his blood that made him want to scream, “think before you make your decision.”It was time, Thor realized with a wince, that Loki found out the consequences of his actions. Thor would be leaving for the front in less than a week and he had yet to tell Loki. His brother had to learn that Thor wasn’t going to be there to protect him forever.It was just Thor’s hope that with father with him, Loki wouldn’t have to deal with the worst of Odin's rage.…***…Thor sat at his mother's feet, yarn held in his hands as his mother worked to roll the bundle into a ball. It seemed the more the King worked to ready his troops, Mother knitted more items. Thor already had a set of scarves and fingerless gloves, and it seemed he would not be leaving with his father without a blanket as well.Beside him, Loki was curled in the floor, excess yarn twisting between his fingers as he teased Snake. The poor beast’s black tail twitched as it stalked the jumping string. If Loki wasn’t careful, Thor thought with a secret smile, he'd lose a finger when the claws began to flash.“Mother.” Loki said, his voice cracking through the air like a whip. “I think Loki Friggason has a nice ring to it.”The room fell silent as their mother froze, the yarn dropping from her nerveless fingers as she pushed herself to her feet and all but flung herself at Loki. The Valkyrie in the corner of the room seemed to smile at the delight their queen was displaying as she swept Loki up into a hug.Sitting beside his mother’s chair, Thor slowly lowered his hands, the yarn catching on the calluses on his hands. This wasn’t the option Thor would have chosen for his brother, the danger of not having Odin’s protection too great, but their mother wouldn’t let Loki be harmed, not while he bore her name.Thor wasn’t happy, but at least he could leave with his father without feeling as if Loki had nothing to protect him but his own wit.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Your brother and I miss you.
Thor’s fingers traced the words of his mother's letter numbly. He missed home. He missed curling up beside his mother and listening to her sing as she embroidered. He missed watching his brother shift into other shapes and go gallivanting across the palace with a wide grin. He missed the Valkyrie and their steady presence. He missed Valstagg, Hogan, Fandrel, and Sif.He missed home.Whethgost, the colony that had angered his father so, was nestled on a cliffside and had the high ground. (It was no secret Thor thought, that Whethgost had both the literal high ground, and the moral one.) The so-called ‘war' was supposed to have taken two to ten days, long enough to intimidate and negotiate, or so Odin had proclaimed when he had marched out of Asgard, Thor at his side. Instead, upon appearing outside of Whethgost via the Bifrost (that was just good manners), the sky had turned dark, arrows streaming out of the sky to slam into unprotected and unprepared soldiers.Thor had only been spared due to his sparks screaming in outrage. Winds had swept across the plain, scattering the second volley of arrows as Thor instinctively threw himself towards an outcropping of rock. Tussling with Loki had at least taught him the danger of an attack from above.Odin had been furious. Reinforcements had been called for within the hour.That had been over two months ago.Once it been clear Whethgost was not going to surrender, let alone communicate anything beyond arrows and wordless howls, Odin had set up camp in the trees, staring up at the cliffs as if expecting the rock to crumble under the weight of his frustration. The All Father's forces could not reach Whethgost from the top of the cliffs, even with the help of the Bifrost. The wind shrieked and tossed about soldiers like children's blocks whenever they tried.At first, Odin had declared that they would wait Whethgost out. Winter would soon be upon them and Whethgost had begun as a trading post, or at least that’s the best Thor could figure from the records. The people would soon go hungry and then, Odin assured him, Whethgost would have to surrender.The forces of Asgard had settled in for the long wait, far enough away from the cliffs that even the most talented archer would be hard pressed to injure anyone. Thor had expected the siege to be long and boring. Death hadn’t visited them since that first fateful day and from the mutterings of the soldiers, aside from complete boredom easily taken care of by a quick tourney or a game of dice, everything had been going well.Then the first battle had occurred.In one afternoon, Thor learned the difference between what Sindre had taught him and what the Valkyries had attempted to ram into his skull. Battle wasn’t neat and tidy like Sindre had made it out to be. This wasn’t a tourney, the arena, or training. This was death, pain, and terror. Opponents came at you, two, three, four at a time. They didn’t care if Thor was scared, or tired. They didn’t care what Thor could possibly do if given enough time to plan. What mattered was how fast Thor’s reflexes were and if Thor could keep moving.And keep moving, he had.During the battle, Thor quickly learned exactly how much energy needed to generate a spark. How much energy was needed to knock a man out cold, and how much was needed to kill a man. Midway through the battle he learned how much energy was needed to turn a man into dust and how much was needed to keep the body intact with minimal burnt flesh.By the end of the battle, with sweat pouring down his brow, his sword lost somewhere in the muck of the field, and storm clouds circling overhead, Thor had come to two realizations. One; if this was what becoming King meant (blood soaking through your tunic and guts staining your boots) then Thor wanted nothing to do with it. Or rather, Thor didn’t want to be that type of King.The second realization was that, even though his stomach rolled, his muscles ached, and he had a gash on his arm that would probably need stitches, Thor had had fun. Thor had enjoyed the battle, the chaos, the way he had to keep moving and he had to focus on the here and now.He didn’t have time to worry about Loki or their mother. He didn’t have time to wonder if Odin approved of Thor's actions. There wasn’t any time but to duck, weave, move, parry, thrust, and jump. There was only the sword in his hand, the wind at his back, the blood in his veins, and the battle cry behind his teeth.And Thor loved it.Except, now, when he was left with a pile of reports and his mother's letter, Thor could admit he was terrified. He was terrified of the fact he enjoyed the battle. He hadn’t liked the death, the killing blows, but the act of losing himself to the rhythm? If this was what Loki felt when he practiced magic, Thor could understand why sparks were always twirling around his knuckles.Running a finger over the letter again, Thor almost smiled, except, something didn’t seem right. It wasn’t the letter, no that was normal, it was…“Prince.”Against his better judgement, Thor flinched as he jumped to his feet, his hand falling to the knife on his belt. Surely the guards knew better then to sneak up on a warrior so soon after a battle. “Enter.” He called.The guard outside poked his head in, his face apologetic even as he bowed slightly. “I am sorry to ask this sir, but you have been alone all evening?”For a moment, Thor stared at the guard in confusion (he had met the man before. Gol? Ydril? Ing… Ingo! He was new to the guards, only three days into his rotations. Thor didn’t expect him to last long) before shaking his head. No one would care if Thor decided to have, well, a tumble, but Thor had no illusions about the fact that if his Lady Mother found out he had been tumbling she would send him on to Valhalla near instantly.Ingo grimaced. “Not to alarm you, Prince, but there have been reports of a young boy sneaking about. He might be a Whethgost spy.”Thor nodded sharply. A spy. It certainly wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities, but why send a child? Did Whethgost think his father would be merciful of a child was found in their camp?Did they think his father would care?“Thank you, Ingo.” Thor murmured as he waved a hand to dismiss the guard. “But I do not think a child would be able to get this far without notice.”Ingo nodded as he withdrew, and Thor took a moment to calm his racing heart. It would not do for him to burn down the tent due to his own foolishness and inattentiveness to his own sparks. Once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest, he tightened his hold on his knife and turned to stare at his cot. “You can come out now.”From under his cot, a hand scrabbled onto the pelt laid over the ground, before a shoulder and head popped out to look up at Thor. This was not a child, Thor mused as he took in the young woman's appearance. She was much too thin, her blond hair was pulled back in a severe braid only the servants preferred, and she was adorned with the oddest clothes.The girl grinned. “In my defence,” she began, twisting out from under the bed as it became clear Thor wasn’t going to call for the guards, “I got lost.”Thor raised an eyebrow. The girl was short, a tiny little thing that looked more like a wraith then a woman. It was no wonder the guards thought this woman was a child, not when she slouched and curled herself inwards under his stare. If it weren’t for Loki's own shapeshifting tenancies and fluidity between the genders of his shifts, Thor would not have been able to identify the woman either.Just before Thor could begin to question the woman, the poor thing's cheeks became as pale as his mother's favored handkerchief. “Oh gods,” she squeaked, her eyes flicking over his still bloodstained outfit, “how does this always happen to me? I mean, first it was an alleyway in New York, now its freaking pre-modern Vikings?” the woman rolled her eyes up towards the sky. “There wasn’t even a blinking light this time, assholes!”This… this was not what Thor was expecting. “I take it you are not from Whethgost?” he asked tentatively as the woman shook a hand towards the sky.The woman gave him a look that would have made even his father quake. “Does it look like I am from Whethgost?”Thor blinked and shook his head as he fell back onto his stool. “Loki, this is not amusing. I hope you told mother before you left.” Thor drawled as it dawned on him that it was his brother standing in front of him. He had to admit, the younger prince's acting skills were certainly coming along.Loki quirked an eyebrow, her hands falling to her hips as she attempted to stare him down. “Who?” She inquired sharply.“I am not in the mood to play games.” Thor snarled, his mind racing. Odin could not hear about Loki being here. The All Father would be furious, and Thor was willing to do whatever it took to keep Loki off the battlefield for as long as possible.“Me?” Loki questioned as she pointed to herself.Brothers, Thor mused as he hauled himself up to his feet and dropped his hands onto his brother's (or was it sister's? He'd have to ask when he wasn't quiet as frustrated) shoulders with a heavy sigh, were created to try their sibling's patience. “Brother of mine. Go home.” He urged, pushing Loki towards the front of the tent. “This is not any place for the second in line for the throne.”Loki scowled as he ducked under Thor’s arms, her arms crossing as she tapped a foot against the ground. “Throne?” she snarled, her teeth bared in challenge. “What throne?”Thor would have kept going, arguing with his brother until the guards rotated again and Thor would have been able to push his brother out into the woods to call out for Heimdall. The Bifrost would sweep up his shapeshifter of a brother, without their father being any of the wiser. Except, just as he was about to try and push Loki out of the text again, the girl ducked out from under his arm and scuttled back towards the cot."Explain yourself." She hissed; her hands held out to fend Thor off.Thor froze, his face settling into a scowl. "This farce has gone on long enough, Loki." he hissed, his hand flicking in a way to dismiss her. "Like always, you have mastered your shift and I am very proud. Now go home, settle at Mother's table, and be a good prince."Maybe Thor was egging Loki on too much, but all he could hear was the clashing of steel and the hiss of blood weeping onto the ground as he bolted across the battlefield, his contingent of guards following at his heels. He couldn't let Loki march onto the battlefield, he was too young, and Mother would have his head.Loki ducked away again, her reflexes betraying the sheer frustration that was building under her skin. "Who are you?"They weren't yelling at each other, but they were coming rather close to rolling into a brawl. Thor reached out again, half knowing his brother wouldn't stand down when he was this committed to a roll. This time, Loki ducked as her hand shot out for Thor's knife as she slipped by him.Thor nearly slipped his wrist blade into Loki’s ribs when Loki yanked the blade out of the sheath. His instincts were only held back by the thought that this was his brother. Loki. The only person who wouldn’t kill him as much as maim him before dragging him back to mother with a proud smile. (So much like one of Mother’s cats, Thor thought fondly. Snake would be proud.) Holding back, all Thor could do was watch as Loki turned, the knife spinning in her hand as she turned on her heel and slammed the blade down. Thor flinched, waiting for the pain to bloom. Loki wasn't kind when frustrated.Then again, Loki wasn't known for being kind at all.However, he was known for carrying his own knives.Yet, instead of the blade sinking into Thor's arm, there was another body slumped on the ground, Loki straddling him as he yanked the blade out of the man's heart."Coward." Loki spat, his eyes shinning as he climbed up to his feet. "Children aren't to be targeted."Thor was frozen where he stood, his hands left hanging in the air as he realized the girl's eyes were blue, not green.The girl's eyes were blue.His brother had never managed to change his eye colour no matter how hard he had tried."Loki?" Thor whispered. There was something wrong with this image. There was something wrong. The girl was still holding his knife, there was a man dead on the ground, and Thor didn't know what was going on.The girl shook her head even as she placed his knife onto his desk. "Sorry kid. My name's Ollie, don't think I've known a Loki." Slowly, the girl gave him a wolfish smile. "And I really wasn't lying when I said I got lost."The oddest part about the scene, Thor thought as he stared at the corpse on his floor, was that the guards hadn’t heard a damn thing. While the whole situation probably hadn’t taken more than a few seconds, maybe half a minute, that was still long enough for someone to die. No wonder his mother thought the guards were horribly incompetent.“Do you want a job?” Thor blurted out, hardly even thinking the statement through.The girl, Ollie, blinked, blood dripping from her fingertips as she gaped at him. “Are you serious?”Thor looked back at the corpse, before flicking a gaze to the silhouettes he could see off his guard. “Yes.”May the gods help him if his mother ever heard about this.For a moment, the Ollie simply squinted at him, her fingers twitching uselessly in the air. “Well,” she eventually drawled, “it’s not as if I have anything better to do.”…***…Getting Ollie into his guards was revelatory easy when Thor pointed out the fact he was still waiting for his mother to send her half of the guards (as was her right), and he had a corpse no one remembered sulking through the camp laying on his floor.It was also rather difficult to argue when Ollie said little during her interview and instead took a solid ten minutes to disarm herself entirely. It wasn’t until after, that Ollie admitted she had raided the armory prior to meeting with the All Father. Either way, it was doubtful the girl would ever be caught without a weapon.She had been hired on the spot.…***…Ollie fought with reckless abandon; Thor realized quickly. She threw herself into brawls with little care to how her skin bruised and broke. Often, it was Thor who had to drag her back to the camp, as she sang a jaunty tune with bloodied teeth.Some days were better than others. Some days neither of them got hurt. Other days, Thor watched as the girl that had practically become his shadow, tear through a line as if the people of Whethgost were nothing but papyri dolls.She was handy with knives and oddly enough when tested, a fair hand at archery. It might take her an extra shot to land a perfect hit, but she could do it nearly effortlessly. She also fought like the Valkyrie, brawled like Sindre, and cackled like Loki. If it weren’t for the fact Ollie had made it clear she wasn’t interested, Thor would have courted her on the spot.Soon, Ollie became one of his only guards. Unlike his father's warriors, Ollie didn’t rotate, didn’t ask for time off, and didn’t seem to care what Thor did as long as he “didn’t decide trashcan lids were excellent shields.” Whenever Thor asked for her to elaborate, she got this pinched look on her face and quickly changed the subject.Thor learned quickly it wasn’t worth asking questions of one of his only competent guards.The only problem Thor had with Ollie was that she refused to come to Asgard and that, on occasion, she'd disappear into thin air. Thor would have assumed she was taking time off to go home it weren’t for the fact she pulled the stunt directly in front of him while fetching arrows during their down time in the siege.Thor's first thought was that his mother had found out Ollie had protected him from a potential assassination and wanted to test her, therefore kidnapping her via the Bifrost. His second thought was that the Bifrost had never been so quiet. His third thought was he had never seen Ollie look so terrified in all the time he had known her.His fourth thought was to wonder how he was going to explain to his father that the best guard since Lady Ingrid, had apparently just quit.…***…Two days later, Ollie appeared back on the bed, her whole-body trembling and her eyes wide. Her sudden appearance nearly made Thor yelp, but the sound got stuck in his throat when he realized that while Ollie was looking at him, she wasn’t seeing him.Part of Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was seeing. Not when her teeth were bloody, her fingers kept twitching, and she refused to use her right arm. Still, Ollie was one of his. She was his responsibility. Ollie was his and may the gods help whoever tried to hurt her.Crouching down, Thor grabbed at her hands, nearly cursing at the sheer cold that radiated off her body. Instinctively, Thor lowered his own temperature to match. Helping to raise Loki had taught him that those who were cold, preferred to remain cold. Except, Thor had seen Ollie bleed red and she tended to lounge out in the sun, her skin nearly blistering under the heat.Whatever Ollie was, she was not like Loki, but shocking her system would do more harm than good.“Where did you go?” Thor murmured as Ollie all but threw herself into his arms, her body still shaking desperately. Ollie did not like touch. She shied away from the friendly pats Thor often gave and did her best to let no one lay a hand on her. For Ollie to be curling into his shoulder and fisting her left hand into his tunic told Thor more then he wanted to know.“I don’t want to go back.” Ollie gasped, her words a strange mixture of rasping and wet. “I don’t want to go back to my body. I want to remember everything. I want to go home to Peggy and Howard. I want to go save Steve and Bucky. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.”Being stabbed by Loki would have hurt less then this. Tugging Ollie closer, Thor slumped onto the ground, Ollie curled into his arms. Somehow, he doubted Ollie knew it was Thor that was comforting her. Hel, he doubted she even knew Thor was there. Ollie would never have allowed herself to appear weak otherwise.Thor had a responsibility. A duty. A job. He was to make sure that his people, all his people, were safe. Thor had only ever seen Ollie’s back once, and Thor knew marks of torture to see them. He also knew that torture marks should not be so prominent unless Ollie had recently walked out of a dungeon. He also knew that it was impossible for Ollie’s right arm to be flesh and blood one moment and metal the next.There was no magic strong enough to make an arm bleed blood one moment and oil the next.But there was magic that could make people be in two places at once. Loki had stumbled upon it a mere decade ago. When Thor had gone to wake him up and Loki had not even twitched, Thor had panicked and raced for their mother. The queen, upon running into her youngest’s room, had laughed and explained that Loki had accidentally dream walked. The magic was not overly dangerous as long as Loki’s body was safe, and he did not get either his body or spirit killed.Thor wasn’t about to pretend he knew what magic Ollie could manipulate. Not when the girl seemed stunned that magic even existed most days and had the terrible habit of hiding her own skills. But sometimes, just sometimes, Thor wondered if Ollie wasn’t entirely here.And wasn’t it telling that Ollie had escaped to a battleground to get away from whatever demons stalked her path.…***…Getting Ollie drunk was difficult, Thor thought as he tossed the guard's limp body onto the cot. For all that it often took effort for even the most seasoned warrior to become loose tongued, Ollie was somehow the worst Thor had ever encountered. The girl had matched the Valkyries drink for drink, the pile of coins by her elbow growing steadily by the hour. But during that entire time, Ollie hadn’t lost the grim little smile that had ghosted onto her face the moment Thor had jokingly signed her up for the contest.“Peggy would have loved you!” Ollie slurred solemnly from the cot; her cheeks rosy as she struggled to roll off her cloak. “And Peggy’s an excellent judge of character. See, she even choose me to be in her unit. Me! The dumb idiot who had no clue what it was like to play with the big boys.”Thor hummed in agreement, already half tuning her out. He was used to dealing with drunk soldiers and putting Ollie to bed couldn’t be that difficult in comparison. It wasn’t as if the girl was a sick Loki. “But I mean, Bucky.” Ollie suddenly sat up, her hands flying wildly as she tugged at her cloak pin. “He was a good judge of character too. He picked Steve after all!”Here, Thor’s ears pricked. He had heard that name before. Had heard those names before. Hel, he knew both names were important to his stranded guard, but it wasn’t often he heard why. Thankfully, it appeared Ollie was a chatty drunk.Ollie's hands fell into her lap, her lips wobbling as she hiccupped. “I miss them!” she wailed, her voice raging as she bent over her knees. “I had to keep Bucky safe! I promised Steve I'd keep him safe. And I did.”Her hand reached out and latched onto Thor's arm, her fingers digging into his skin as she pleaded with him. “I kept him safe. I did it for near twelve years. I kept him safe and I fell! I died.”Thor's blood froze. “Ollie…”“I died, princeling.” Ollie confessed; her eyes wide. “I must have died being forced into that tank, because I woke up here. And this must be hell, because your father is a dead ringer for demonic attitudes.Closing his eyes, Thor pushed her back down onto the cot. “Come on Ollie, go to bed.”He didn’t want to think about the fact Ollie had all but confirmed his worst fears. Ollie really didn’t know where she was. No matter what map Thor gave her or what language he tried to communicate with, Allspeak was going to be the only one that worked. Ollie really was lost, and may the gods help them, because Thor didn’t know how to keep her with him or even make sure she was safe.…***…The All Father had planned one final assault. Somehow Odin had found a way to the top of the cliffs and this was to be the last battle. The final assault. The battle to end all battles at Whethgost. Odin had ordered a massacre. Only his own forces were to walk away from Whethgost at the end of the battle.Ollie hadn’t said a word since the orders came down and Thor didn’t have to look at her to know what she was thinking because Thor was wondering the same.What about the children?Whethgost hadn’t managed a full-scale evacuation before Odin’s forces had arrived and it was undeniable that there were children at the top of the cliffs. There were women and children up in Whethgost and Thor was going to be sick.It was one thing to cut down warriors on the battlefield. It was quiet, another to cut down a defenseless child.Crawling out of the path Odin had order him to march, Thor paused the moment his feet touched the ground. From his vantage point, Thor could see the sprawl of the city. Buildings were half crumbled, carts were overturned in the street, and Thor fancied he could see the smolders of a few watch fires.“Pity,” Ollie commented as she dropped down beside him, “I was so looking forward to a battle.”Thor shot her a look, his mouth falling open uselessly as he took in her smug smile. “You…you…how did…but…you…” he trailed off, his mind working overtime.Although there was a high chance that the people of Whethgost were hidden away in bolt holes and walls, awaiting the attack, Ollie’s smug air had him thinking otherwise. Ollie had a habit of accomplishing the impossible and Thor wasn’t about to question her. He was the son of the king, honor bound to hand traitors over to Odin.Taking in a steadying breath, Thor pinned Ollie in place with a hopeful expression. He couldn’t ask her if Whethgost was empty or if she had anything to do with it, but he could ask, “Even the children?”Ollie gave him a small smile. “Even the children.” She agreed.…***…Needless to say, Odin was furious and by the end of his rage, Whethgost no longer existed even as ash.Never had Thor been so happy Ollie could smuggle ale as easily as breathing. That night, they both drank more then enough to kill men several times their age. It wasn’t enough to forget the horror Odin had brought down on their heads.…***…Two days before Thor had been scheduled to go back home, his mother gave the camp a surprise visit. Later, he would never be sure if his mother had seen something or she had merely deemed a year and a half too long to go without properly seeing her son. At the time, all Thor could do was stare in horror as his mother swept into his tent as Ollie slept off the latest round of drinks on his cot.He could already see the halls of Valhalla.Surely his mother wouldn’t murder him, she did want grandchildren after all.But, whatever Thor had been expecting, his mother pausing in the doorway, Lady Ingrid looking over her shoulder, and staring at Ollie with the most horrified expression he had ever seen, was not it.“Mother?” Thor whispered, frozen by desk as Ollie sniffled and twisted, her brow furrowing as she twitched.The queen startled, her expression breaking as her hand stretched out to brush a strand of hair off Ollie's cheek. “You never mentioned her in your letters.”Thor hadn’t heard his mother speak this softly since Loki had asked if it was okay to shift his gender along with his form. She hadn’t looked this devastated since Thor had admitted the sparks hurt. He wasn’t he liked the realization.Still, flushing under the weight of her stare, he protested. “it’s not what it looks like!”On the cot, Ollie shifted again, mumbling something that might have been ‘go away Thor,’ or ‘gihaytht’. Thor wasn’t sure. Either way, it didn’t help his case. Lady Ingrid smiled and Thor could see his chances of continued living float away on the wind. He had promised no grandchildren prior to marriage and from all appearances, it looked as if he had broken that promise.Only, instead of his mother’s wrath, his mother smiled. “Oh darling, I'm so proud.”Thor blinked and with instincts that had kept him alive on his father's battlefield, hazard to take a glance at his mother's glazed seeing eyes.“Son of a Bitch.” Thor breathed unthinkingly, his gaze snapping to the sleeping form on his bed. He had wanted to know where Ollie was from and what was chasing her so badly, but he hadn’t wanted to know that whatever it was, was bad enough his mother had seen it.“Thor,” his mother chastised absently, “I do hope you have been kind to her.”On the bed, Ollie disappeared.…***…There was a distance between Thor and the so-called Warrior Three. At some point between the siege and graduation from the palace tutorship, Thor had left his friends and brother behind. Odin had demanded complete obedience and Thor hadn’t known how to balance his friends' need of adventure and Odin's blatant disapproval. At least with Thor playing the obedient prince, Loki was left to his own devices and his friends were able to develop their skills in peace. However, Thor wasn’t sure Sif, let alone Loki, would ever forgive him for the distance.At this point, Thor thought as he ducked his brother's knife, the distance wouldn’t matter if Thor couldn’t survive one impromptu training session. Twisting, the blade missed Thor by a hair’s breadth and he couldn't help the smirk that crawled onto his lips. “You’re losing your touch, little brother.” He taunted.The only warning Thor had about his brother's next move was the way Loki's eyes flashed red. Swearing, Thor barely ducked as his brother's knife (his brother's only knife) spun overhead and slammed into the wall behind him.The world became washed in a haze of red. Somewhere in the back of Thor's mind he saw Ollie grab him by his collar and shake him until direction lost all meaning. Never throw away your blade! Ollie had barked, her eyes wild, You are small and defenseless, even if you know how to brawl! The enemy has your blade now and their reach is longer. Fight smart, live longer.Thor's arm was already swinging around, his finger's curling into Loki's collar as he slammed the smaller boy into the ground. Since Whethgost, Thor hadn't dared to catch Loki during their spars, too wary of pushing too hard against the boy who relied on trickery and deceit to win. Now, Thor realized that staying on the defensive with Loki would only hinder the boy. Reaching back, Thor wretched the blade out of the panel and brought it up under Loki's nose. “Never give up your only weapon.” He snarled.Loki smirked. “You forget, brother,” he sneered, his eyes narrowing even as he went crossed eyed staring at the blade, “I have…”“Magic?” Thor broke in, drawing his own sparks to the forefront, lightly shocking Loki. “So do I.”If it were any other day, Thor would have tossed Loki back his blade and ruffled the boy's hair with a proud smile, critiquing the small mistakes Loki had made.But, there was something different.Something off. Leaning back, Thor allowed Loki to scramble away, his skin paling as Thor drew himself up and pocketed Loki's blade. Casting a seemingly disinterested look around the empty arena, Thor managed to catch a glance of a familiar silver vambrace.“I’ll get you for this.” Loki vowed, his teeth flashing in a challenge.“You can’t even take back your own blade.” Thor sneered as he turned on his heel, instinct making him more biting than usual. Marching out of the practice arena, Thor could only be grateful that the scene was over. Oh, he had no illusions Loki would ever take the insult laying down, but at least now the audience of one would back off for at least another day or two.“You've done well, my son, to put the child in his place.” Odin praised, his hand clamping down on Thor's shoulder. “Children should not play at being warriors.”The weight of Odin's hand seemed to increase with every step.…***…The fact Loki hadn’t snuck into Thor's room even once since their fight in the arena shouldn’t have surprised Thor. Yet, Loki's blade was still sitting on Thor's desk and Loki's notes from the tutors were still cluttering up a portion of Thor's floor.There were days, not many but certainly a few, where Thor cursed Odin to the deepest level of Hel. Recently, it seemed those days were growing.…***…“There are six objects of great power. In all his life, the All Father has only ever seen two. My darling, I fear you will one day see all six.”The conversations that changed his life always seemed to take place in the queen's halls, Thor thought with no small amount of hysteria. Part of Thor would have liked to think that this was because his mother was less secretive then Odin, but Thor knew for all that he spent less time with Mother, he spoke to her more than Odin.It was easier to hate Odin from afar then love him up close.Still, once again Thor found himself sitting at his mother's feet, holding onto his mother's yarn as she wound the mess into a ball, and he had a minor existential crisis. It wasn’t hard to guess which items his mother was referencing, not when the tale was woven into the great tapestry in his mother's halls.“Do you drop threats like this onto your other son?” Thor asked numbly, his eyes wide and unseeing.His mother laughed as she tugged the yarn out of his hands, her fingers picking at a particularly stubborn knot. “Of course not, darling, Loki only ever gets to interact with a few.”Well…that wasn’t terrifying in the least.“And Olivia, you keep an eye on her.” His mother warned, her eyes flashing as she pulled the knot apart. “She has gained favour.”Thor stared at his mother, the ground trembling under his feet and sparks dancing around his hands. “How long do we have?”His mother smiled gently as she picked up her needles and began to cast on. “Oh, not long now I think.”…***…There were a hundred different things Thor would rather be doing then staring at the so-called gift Odin was giving him with Thor's coming of age ceremony. Most of them involved sparring or hiding. All of them involved staying away from his father.Odin had gifted him with a weapon, which by itself wasn’t odd. Odin's spear was given to him by his father, and Thor had never been given any reason to forget that fact.Mjolnir, as Odin had named the hammer, (A war hammer. It didn’t escape Thor's notice that the weapon was primarily destructive. A mockery of the tools used in forges and construction. As crown prince it was his job, his duty, to build up this empire. As king, it seemed his father only had cause to tear it down.)  was only to respond to those who were worthy.No one seemed to know the answer when Thor asked what, exactly, he was worthy of.Whethgost had been years ago but steel still rang in his ears and some days Thor swore blood still dripped from his fingertips. The fact Ollie had gone behind his back to clear Whethgost before Odin could close in, still made shame bubble up in his throat and rake down his spine. Was he so much his father's son that Ollie hadn’t trusted him to save innocents?Had Ollie not trusted him at all?But, maybe that wasn’t the question, Thor thought as he placed a hand on Mjolnir’s grip. Maybe the question was much simpler. Maybe the question wasn’t if he was worthy, maybe it was asking something he had never been able to answer under Ollie's thoughtful stare.Was he a good man?Thor was arrogant, cocky, selfish, and mean. He had made his little brother detest him. He had made his parents rage at each other, and he could barely hold Asgard together by himself. He wasn’t worthy of anything. He only held the title of crown prince due to the blood in his veins and Odin's hatred of Loki.Still, maybe Thor could try to be a good man. Maybe he could strive to do better, to move forward, to be worthy.Maybe he could become the person he was meant to be. Maybe he could…Closing his eyes, Thor readjusted his grip and pulled. …***…Thor's hand slammed down on the table, causing papyri to scatter and ink to spill. “If Odin continues to demand this much tribute, the surrounding colonies will revolt.” Thor hissed, confident in the fact his mother's rooms were secure enough for him to complain aloud.Beside him, his mother ran the weft through warp, her fingers gently pulling at the tapestry needle. Even before Thor had left got Whethgost, he knew better then to ask what his mother was making at any one point in time. Sometimes the projects were there to help her see, other times she simply worked because there was too much other energy that needed to be worked off.Thor could relate, especially on the days the air around him constantly smelt like burning ozone and summer storms.“The All Father knows what he is doing.” His mother commented gently.“But does he know the consequences?” Thor near snarled as his head fell into his hands, his shoulders hunched. He was crown prince. He was responsible for his people. All his people. From the palaces of Asgard to the outer branches of Yggdrasil, Thor held a responsibility to his people.He had sworn to protect them, even from his own father. And the more Thor poured over the notes, the more he thought about places like Whethgost, the more he really looked at the alleys of Asgard and her people, the more Thor realized something was wrong.There weren’t street urchins and everyone in the capital had a roof and food on the table, but the more Thor poured over the numbers sent in by the villages, the more he wondered how long everything would last. Sure, there was food on the table now and there was a roof over everyone’s head for the moment, but how long would this last?Peace was only possible through the continued wellbeing and success of everyone involved. Asgard's so-called peace wouldn’t mean anything if there were riots in the street because of famine and disease.Peace wouldn’t mean anything if there weren’t people to be peaceful.“Thor Odinson.” Loki called out from a corner of the room Thor hadn’t noticed him lurking. “Finally questioning your brilliant father?”Maybe it was only Frigga that noticed how Thor's hands curled into the corner of the table, making the wood groan, or maybe not. But Thor was positive Loki noticed the way Thor tensed in his seat and refused to turn around. Thor didn’t know what expression had plastered itself across Loki's face, but he was willing to bet some part of it was smug.“Loki…” Thor hissed in warning, sparks gathering around his knuckles as he forced himself to remain sitting. This was not an argument he wanted to have in front if his mother.“The great and wonderful Thor.” Loki said with a sweep of his hands as he walked around the table and plopped himself down onto the scarred tabletop. “Lowering himself to deal with, what? Taxes?”“You do not know of what you speak.” Thor warned again, forcing himself to let go of the table lest he break it.Whatever expression was on Thor’s face must have been frightening due to the fact Loki just… stopped. He stopped. Midway through a taunt, the report still on his tongue, Loki just stopped. “What do you know?” Loki whispered, his eyes widening as he flicked a glance between Thor and their mother. “What am I missing?”“There are some things you should know.” Their mother acknowledged; the tapestry needle being tucked away neatly into the weft.Lightening coiled around his wrists and Thor jolted to his feet. The situation was surreal. The entire situation was something out of the epics Thor had heard at the feasts. Everything Thor had fought to keep secret. Everything Thor had sought to keep Loki away from because Loki could not know. He could never know. Because Thor needed Loki to be safe. He needed his little brother to be safe because this was his brother. This was the baby that Thor had curled into his arms and hidden from Odin’s wrath.This was the boy Thor had willing gone to war for.Thor bowed his head. “Mother.” He didn’t know what else to say, what else was there to say?“Thor,” the queen whispered, “go for a walk. Your brother and I have many things to speak about.”
…***…
It could have been hours or even days later when Thor burst into Odin’s court. Anger swirled through his veins, frost trailed off the fringe of his cloak and if Thor had not been so damned tired off all of Odin’s lies and deceit, the old man would have been burnt to a crisp where he stood.Laufey.Loki Laufeyson.No wonder Odin hated his youngest.“How dare you…” Odin boomed from his throne, hardly even twitching as Thor marched through the room, the smell of burning air bursting through the room.Anger made Thor grip Mjolnir all the tighter even as he fought the urge to blast his father’s halls into ash as Odin had done to Whethgost all those years ago. “How dare I?” Thor spat at Odin’s feet. “How dare I what?”Out of the corner of his eye, Thor watched as the tapestries fluttered in the wind that swirled around his feet and howled at the stonewalls. For whatever reason, he saw Loki and Frigga standing at the back of the hall, their eyes wide even as Loki shakily stumbled to stand in front of their mother, knives already in his hands.To the fleeing nobles, Thor barely paid any attention.Did Loki see him as a threat or was the threat the old man who was rotting on the throne?Frigga’s staff slammed down in front of Loki as she pushed the boy behind her. Something in Thor’s chest relaxed at the scene even as he turned his attention back to Odin and did his damnedest to hear over the screaming winds.“Do you know what you have done, Odin? Do you know what your people say behind your back? Do you know what your sons have thought of you over the past few centuries? Do you know that your people struggle? You may have a pretty little gemstone here, at the heart of Asgard, but I doubt Whethgost is the only place that needed help. And you killed them! You forced them to die rather than give them food. Rather than give them help. Be very careful,” Thor warned as he slammed his control down on the winds and the rage, forcing the courtroom to scream into silence, “of how you answer to the future King of Asgard.”Because, this was the truth. Thor was the future King. He had a responsibility to stand for his people against all threats, even his own father. Odin had taught him to be merciless, Thor was just repaying the favour.“Whethgost betrayed the throne.” Odin boomed, his single eye narrowing as he looked down at Thor.All the anger, all the rage, all the hatred Thor had stored up over the years came crumbling out in one rolling laugh. “For a man who says he detests liars, you sure have mastered the skill.”The look of rage on Odin’s face made Thor laugh but the look of fear on Loki’s would haunt him for the rest of his life. The pride that hung around his mother kept Thor going. “You do not deserve…”Odin stood, his spear slamming down onto the ground as he leveled a hand towards Thor. “Get out, and don’t come back until you are worthy of that weapon you carry on your waist.”And the next thing Thor knew, he was being hit by a car.…***…Thor was not happy. Content, but not happy. Midgard was not his home. He did not have a responsibility to these people. He held no duty, no office, no station. Here he was nothing but a man. He did not forget his people, and sometimes at night, he’d slip out of bed with Jane, and go out into the desert and scream at the stars. Heimdall had to have heard him. His lady mother had to have heard him.Yet, here he was. Mjolnir left hanging on hook in Jane’s studio apartment, collecting dust.Most days he helped Jane tinker with the secrets of the universe. Other days he wandered into town and helped out the local construction companies. There was something terribly humbling and terribly ironic about the fact Mjolnir could now help build rather than destroy.He never stopped trying to call the Bifrost but at this point it was more habit then desperation. And one day, out of sheer boredom, while Jane and Darcy were doing a pizza run, Thor decided to hop onto the computer and look up a few names. He already knew that himself and his family were considered myths, and wasn’t that an odd thought, but when he got bored, he’d look up a few people from his past just to see what the history had gotten wrong.Only, it seemed, a Lady Peggy Carter, a Lord Howard Stark, and two foot soldiers Steve and Bucky Barnes, were actually Midgardian heroes. Which rather explained a lot, although he was trying to figure out how a retired Valkyrie (because what else could Ollie be?) know a group of Midgardian heroes.A group of Midgardian heroes that were still alive.And while Thor might not have had a responsibility to this planet and these people, he had a debt to Olivia the Lady Wraith. He had a debt to his guard that disappeared, and he strongly believed, continued to be tortured. And, oh while he had looked, this was the most solid lead he had ever had.He would not leave the Lady Wraith to another century of torture.Finding the contact information for the Lord Howard Stark, Thor gathered up a bag of supplies, strapped Mjolnir to his hip, and walked out to the payphone, coins in hand. The moment the line connected, Thor spoke. “I am looking for information on an Olivia Ba…”The Bifrost touched down and Thor was left standing in Heimdall’s guardroom, his mother standing alone in the doorway.“kker…” Thor finished, his hand falling uselessly to his side. He had been gone long enough that he was not angry at his mother for leaving him behind on Midgard. His father on the other hand…“There are some things you should know.” His mother whispered, the gold Thor had always associated her with, dull in the shadows.“What has happened mother?” Thor murmured, his shoulders falling. There was no point in asking to go back to Midgard. Jane would have to move on. Thor had been called back to do his duty. It was time to grow up.Then Thor caught sight of the thin thread of black adoring his mother’s upper arm.His mother seemed fragile in the shadows; her head tilted forward. “Your brother is dead. He died falling of the Bifrost attempting a one-man rebellion in an effort to get your exile revoked. The All Father has called you home to prove that the Royal Family is united and strong.”Thor wasn’t sure how he ended up on the ground, his hands shaking and the cool marble floor digging into his knees. All he knew was that there was a keen slipping out from between his teeth and his mother was rushing through the guardroom to slip her fingers into his hair and whisper words neither of them would remember into his ear.Loki was dead.While Thor was adjusting to life on Midgard and carving out a whole knew family in a weird mishmash of people that weren’t warriors but scholars, his brother, his baby brother, had been killed. His baby brother had been murdered because there was no other way a trickster and a pathfinder of Loki’s caliber would die any other way.“No more rebellions.” The queen whispered into his ear. “I cannot afford to lose another son.”…***…One year later, while Thor was doing his weekly rounds through the marketplace, interacting with his people, Heimdall pulled him to the side.Loki wasn’t dead.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ollie’s ringing denial stood in the quinjet almost like a tangible thing, and for a split moment Ollie revealed in the chaos.How long at it been since she had said that word and had someone listen to her? How long had it been since she could force someone to stop just because she said so? How long had it been since Ollie had made a decision on her own with no bearing to it might affect the short term of her mission?There was a pit in the bottom of her stomach and Ollie swore claws and teeth were gnawing at her ribs. There was satisfaction rubbing along her bones like an overly affectionate cat, but at the same time her heart stuttered like a panicked jackrabbit.…***…
“She is Valkyrie!” The blond snarled as he slammed a hand down on the table. The mess fell silent as he stared down whatever asshole had attempted to cop a feel this time. “And it shouldn’t matter what she is. She said no.”

Ollie shook her head as she tugged the boy away by the collar of his cloak, making sure to trod on the assholes foot as she meandered by.

She was the guard, not the boy.
…***…She knew this man. She knew this man just like she knew Punk and Cannon.She knew him. She knew him. Ollie knew Thor.Why did she know……***…
Whethgost was cold. The winter had crept up on Odin's armies quicker then expected and Ollie found herself standing guard in knee deep snow scowling up at the cliffs. At least this time she was wearing a heavy cloak and her quiver was strapped to the outside of the encompassing fabric.

Ollie had only made the mistake once.

The blood on the snow was enough to reinforce that lesson.

…***…

“I have a younger brother.” Thor whispered, his hands shaking as he crumpled up his mother's latest letter.

Ollie wasn’t sure if Thor was entirely aware what he was doing, but she hummed a reply as she checked over her fletching. The last time Ollie had requisitioned arrows, Ove had somehow managed to give her a baker's dozen of arrows with only two feathers and no nock carved into half of the shafts. Needless to say, Ollie had not been impressed.

“Ollie…” Thor's voice was wretched and Ollie looked up, her fingers frozen over the bundle. “I think my father regrets bringing my brother home.”
...***…Thor looked taken back and Ollie had the oddest urge to straighten his cloak, tug his hair back from his face, and scream that he was being foolish. The crown prince was standing with his arms loose by his sides, something Ollie couldn’t see pinning Punk, Canon, and Mr. Tony to the ground. Not to mention, Ollie could have shot him dead five times over.She was rather disappointed to tell the truth.“You dropped your weapon!” Ollie snarled as she lowered her gun, indignant that the boy had somehow grown up and forgotten everything she had pounded into his head. “How could you throw away your weapon?”Thor's mouth opened and closed uselessly and Ollie slung her rifle over her shoulder as she crossed her arms. “I taught you better than that!”Half forgotten memories, clearer then the ones she had of sitting on fire escapes drinking from stolen coke bottles, crowded at the corner of her mind. Memories of cliffs and battlefields, long hours on watch only broken by howling wind and drinking games where she managed to become drunk.Had Thor really carried her home one evening?Pain stabbed into her temples and Ollie dropped her head into her hands. This was wrong. This was oh so wrong. There were two Punks, one very much alive Canon, Howard's son, her mission, and her imaginary friend.Thor wasn’t real. He couldn’t be real. Ollie had made him up somewhere between chair sessions and long-term missions. By the time her Little Spider had come dancing into her life, she had put Thor to rest. Imaginary friends couldn’t help little girls after all.Ollie had her baby girls to think about and there was no time to shut herself away in the back of her mind. Memories meant nothing when the Spiders were crying and there was nothing Ollie could about it. In fact, the only way Thor and Whethgost had helped the Spiders was that the childish antics of the crown prince had been fantastic bedtime stories.And oh gods, Thor could not be real.~I am so sorry.~ The Mind Stone whispered, mentally nudging her to look at Thor again. ~He looks furious.~The quinjet rolled under her feet and the walls seemed to be inching ever closer. Habit made her fight to keep herself standing, instinct kept Loki behind her back. Thor could not be real, Ollie reasoned to herself as she held onto her temples with a slight whimper, because if he was real then Ollie had the opportunity to ask for help, for salvation, and she hadn’t taken it.“Ollie?”“Oliver?”The names jumbled together and Ollie clutched tighter at her head. Everything hurt. Nausea boiled in the bottom of her stomach. Whimpers clawed at the back of her teeth. The injection site from the chair itched and Ollie could feel the phantom weight of the electrical pads.She was malfunctioning.She, he, them, it was malfunctioning.She was Ollie Bakker. She was Ollie Bakker, born 1998 or 1923. She had protected two little boys in a back alley and protected an older boy by stabbing a man through the heart.Hydra had taken her and refined her. Made her better. Made her a good person.Only, there was her spider. Her precious little spider who Hydra had twisted and tortured and bled. And, while Ollie knew she wasn’t a good person, what excuse did Hydra have to make the Little Spider bleed?~I don’t think there is one…~ The Mind Stone whispered, somehow appearing to be more broken up about this entire situation then Ollie was. ~There is never a good reason, just excellent excuses.~“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” Ollie cried. She could feel her fingertips twisting into her skull, grounding her in the present even as her eyes watered. It should probably matter to her that her hood had fallen. It should also probably matter to her that her code, her cipher, had died a terrible death somewhere long before Thor had crash landed his way back into her life.Ollie should probably care about a whole bunch of things, but for some reason, she couldn’t find it in herself to even think about any of this.“You grew out your hair.” Thor commented, his voice sounding oddly strangled.Ollie choked. Of all the bloody things for the crown prince to notice…“And someone braided it for you?!” Thor sounded scandalized, his eyes wide as he all but threw himself forward and swept Ollie under his arm.Startled, Ollie could do little other than tense and thrash, her right arm pinned to her body. Phantom fingers carded through her hair and Ollie snarled, her skin all but crawling at the sensation. “Bastard.” She spat, her teeth grinding as she twisted to look up at Thor. The man had scooped her up of the ground, his arm firmly around her hips. “I feel like one of Langley's chains.”Thro threw his head back in a laugh even as he somehow snapped a hand out (far quicker than Ollie ever remembered) and snagged Loki by the collar. “You both owe me an explanation.”Panic gripped onto the back of her spine and Ollie slammed her left hand against Thor's leg. “He's my mission.” Ollie bit out as she tried to snag Loki's cloak in her fingers.She couldn’t look at Loki's face, not when the boy looked utterly panicked. Instead, her gaze was pinned somewhere to the left of his temple. She could barely hold onto her own fluctuating emotions, dealing with Loki's was a bit too much at the moment.But he was hers. In the same way Cannon, Punk, Thor, and Spider were hers. And may the gods help whoever told her to leave him behind.From the ground there was a groan, and Ollie could see the way Thor twitched. It was almost funny the way the crown prince seemed to curl in on himself, fingers tightening on Ollie's hips, half forcing her behind him ass he tugged Loki towards him. He hadn’t had this instinct in Whethgost but it was cute to see him act like the guard Ollie had pretended to be.Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to stop thrashing.Thor groaned. “To quote a dear old friend…”Ollie twisted, her stomach dropping as she caught the smirk that crawled over Thor's face. She knew that look. She knew that look well, and it wasn't just from the past. She had seen that look on Loki from the moment he had banged on her door. “Oh no. No. No. No!” she shouted, frantically slamming her free hand against his leg.“Why don't we take this conversation outside?”Then he somehow twisted Loki into Ollie's hold and held it a hand. Ollie just about shrieked, her head a bit too close to the blue tinted prince for her own comfort. She didn’t even let Spider this close to her willingly.“Thor you little…!” Ollie shouted, ignoring how Loki winced away, his own hands flailing at his brother. She had more important things to worry about, such as… “Is that a hammer?”Ollie's thoughts derailed as Thor tossed her a smirk and backed up, the hammer spinning around his wrist by a strap. Outside the wind picked up in a frothing howl of fury and the quinjet bucked in the air.“Thor, you wouldn’t dare!” Loki screamed, his voice near cracking as he accidentally bonked Ollie on the forehead.Ollie tossed both brothers an unimpressed look. “Someone had better explain this!” she shouted, straining to be heard over the storm.Thor's hold tightened on Ollie and Loki cursed as he all but burrowed into Ollie's shoulder, his arms working around her torso as he contorted himself into a limped around Ollie and Thor. “We're going to die.” He whimpered into Ollie's ear. “We're going to die painfully.”And then Thor had the audacity to fall out of the quinjet with a whoop.This, Ollie figured, had to be punishment for some sin in a past life, why else would she first die by falling out of a train and then later a thrice damned quinjet?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was poetic that the wind, a cruel merciless mistress, was able to voice the rage Thor could not. Thor had been abandoned on earth for near two years. To Asgardian, it was merely an extended summer, but Thor had learnt to tell time like the mortals.Thor hadn't seen his brother in just over three years.He hadn’t seen Ollie since Whethgost.Thor had never been a patient man, Sindre and Ingrid could both attest to that fact. Living on Midgard had only made that problem worse. To many humans, Thor reacted to situations slowly. Oh, he was quick to anger, quick to rage, but to react?Jane had always commented that he was rather levelheaded when faced with bureaucratic bullshit. Thor had never found a way to make her understand that while Midgardians reacted within moments of an offence, Asgardians could take decades to respond.However, Thor was an Asgardian who fell in love with a Midgardian and he had lived in the confines of Midgard for two years. Patience was not something that came naturally to him and the rage that was boiling in his blood was not helping matters.The wordless howls of the winds swept past Thor, reaching up to buffet the aircraft around in the sky. These worthless mortals had dared to touch (dared to hurt!) his brother and his Valkyrie. They had dare to take a prince of Asgard and one of the royal guard and twist and hurt and……***…
“Did you know that there are six bones in one arm?” Ollie asked with a soft voice as she dragged a finger across the wrist of the young man that was tied to the chair. “Of course, that's not including the bones in your wrists or hands.”

Ollie didn’t seem to notice the sudden flash of fear in the man's eyes, or if she did, she didn’t seem to care.

“I won't tell you anything.” The young man snarled, and if Odin hadn't been in the tent, Thor would have told him there was no reason to be scared. Ollie wouldn’t hurt him. She wasn’t cruel.

“Oh sweetheart,” Ollie sighed, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, “I already know everything.”

The young man jerked in his seat and Thor squirmed, thankful he was behind Odin. He wasn’t sure he would be able to look Odin in the eye if he saw the expression crossing his face.

“You know, there are twenty-seven bones in your hand.” Ollie suddenly whispered as she touched the man's fingers. “Want to see if we can break all of them?”

The worst part about this, Thor thought as he tried not to heave, was that Ollie genuinely sounded giddy.

“I'll leave my son in your capable hands, do make sure he learns something.” Odin rumbled as he turned, one hand thoughtfully stroking his beard. Nodding absently to Thor, the All Father strode out of the tent with a small smile, seemingly lost in thought.

Thor watched the tent flap flicker shut before he slowly turned back to Ollie. The guard was standing with her arms crossed, a mulish line settling around her mouth. Aside from a quick glance to the front of the tent, Ollie didn’t seem to care that the All Father had left midway through the intelligence gathering he himself had requested. “He made himself pass out. A rather smart move if I do say so myself.”

“You…you…you wouldn’t…uh…” Thor trailed off, the realization he was acting like a child several decades younger making him flush with shame.

Ollie eyed him for a moment, her fingers tapping her elbow as she seemed to ponder Thor's stuttered question. “He's a scout.” She eventually pointed out, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she poked the young man's lolling head. “Sent ahead to do the dirty work while the older men of Whethgost place bets on the information he is able to dig up. We’ve been here for four months and nothing has happened. If your father had his way, this boy would be strung up by the guard tower, swaying in the breeze for his mother to scream over his broken body.”

Thor froze in place, ice creeping into his veins as Ollie tapped the poor boy's cheek.

It could have been Thor sitting in that chair under different circumstances. In another world, it might have even been Loki.

“We can't make him bleed. Blood is far too easy to track.” Ollie mused her eyes hardening as she suddenly turned and pinned Thor in place with a glare. “One day you will have to torture, my prince. On that day, you cannot be kind. You cannot be merciful, and above all else, you cannot doubt yourself. But today will not be that day.”

With a flick of her wrist, Ollie slipped a knife out from her sleeve and began to saw at the ropes holding the boy in place. “Your father wants me to teach you something, well, I’ll teach you mercy.”

Thor stared as Ollie slipped her knife back into her sleeve and turned, her back open to the now free, but unconscious, boy. “If you want someone to talk, barter with something they cannot lose. This boy is an archer, broken fingers or arms would cost him months of sidelining he can’t afford. Aside from that, he would never be able to shoot the same way again, if at all depending on the damage he takes and how good of a healer he has.”

Thor gulped, his own hand coming up to rub at his wrists. “Ollie…”

Ollie didn’t seem to hear. “Now, if you want to make him hurt and prolong the session, make it so they can’t run. Broken legs or kneecaps are very effective.” Ollie grinned as she reached over and slipped a pair of boots beside the boy's chair. “Of course, in this climate, taking away footwear is just as effective.”

“Ollie, I…” Thor tried again, unsure as to what the guard was getting at.

“As far as you know, we both left the scout alone and tied up when we went to requisition better tools. When we got back…” Ollie slowly nodded towards the boy.

Blinking, Thor turned on his heel and marched out of the tent. Ollie threw an arm around his shoulder before he was more then ten feet from the entrance. “Above all, just remember that the person under your knife is somebody else's brother.” She whispered into his ear, that uncanny grin still plastered onto her mouth. “And be thankful that you weren’t taught this the same way I was.”

Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant.

…***…
These mortals had forced Ollie to stay. They had found something Ollie couldn’t leave and just like a broken leg, Ollie had been forced to hobble to these Midgardian's whims.And his brother.Lost.Hidden from even Heimdall.Found broken.Thor did not have the words to describe the rage boiling under his skin. Odin had not allowed even the Queen to look for the young prince's body. And, while Loki had been gone for merely a year, it was too long for a Friggason to be absent from the Queen's council.Loki had been dead.Ollie had been tortured.Thor's sparks screamed as the storm kicked itself to new heights. Far above them, the aircraft struggled against the turbulent winds and Thor allowed himself a small smile when he touched down onto the side of the mountain. Maybe he was being petty, putting the Midgardians through his storms, through his anger, but this was his brother and his guard. These were Thor's people and there was nothing he would not do for them.The moment Thor was steady on the mountainside, Loki was scrambling away, his head turned to the side. His hair had grown longer, Thor realized as he attempted to put Ollie on her own two feet. Loki's hair was longer, his clothes were worn, and he looked gaunt and pale.Mother would not be pleased.Ollie dropped to the ground with a somewhat hysterical cry, her hair escaping the braid as she lay eagle spread against the stone. Thor couldn’t find It in himself to mourn the loss of her braid, but he was rather concerned that she hadn't stopped laughing yet.Across from him, Loki sunk to the ground and placed his head in his hands. Thor's rage grew to higher heights at the realizations his brother’s fingers, his brother's lanky trickster fingers, were warped and scared.Twenty-seven bones. Morbidly, Thor had to wonder how many had been broken.“You went against Odin.” Thor murmured, his hand tightening on Mijonr. May the Norns bear witness, if Loki's hands had been broke by Odin, Asgard would have a new King by daybreak.On the ground, Loki stiffened. “I hardly had a choice, did I? You had been exiled by your fool of a father and apparently somebody did have to worry about taxes.”Loki's voice might have been even, but Thor could hear the apology curling through the words. Unbidden, the last argument they had, came to mind. “Taxes.” Thor deadpanned, an unholy glee settling behind his ribs as his brother tossed his head back to look up to the heavens in exasperation.“Well, that and…” Loki grimaced, his face twisting in such a way Thor thought the poor boy was going to be sick. Instead, Loki took in a deep breath and continued with, “you were not exactly wrong.”Disbelief settled onto Thor's shoulders in a way his cloak did not. He loved his brother, truly he did, but this… His brother, his Loki, reached out and slashed and hurt and snarled, and tore. His brother would never admit to being wrong.Ever.Any perceived admission of guilt would get you eaten alive in Odin's court and Loki had always had better self-preservation instincts then that.The glee behind Thor's ribs died a sudden death to the rage that hadn’t seemed to leave his blood since the last time Odin had looked him in the eye and banished him.This wasn’t his brother. This wasn't Loki. Loki would never admit to being wrong. Loki would never stay slumped on the ground as if getting up took too much effort. Loki would never let himself be in a position where anyone, least of all Thor, could grab him by the collar and shake him until he bled.Thor had taught him better than that.Odin's court had taught him better than that.It was a mark of Thor's fury that Mijonr was still when Thor swept the sparking hammer before the deceiver’s nose. “How dare you.” Thor snarled, his mind swirling as he realized someone had been planning this coup for an age.Someone had staked out his mother's court. Had learned what the youngest prince liked and how he acted. Had mimicked the youngest prince's behavior so well, even Thor had been convinced. Someone had killed Loki and Thor had not noticed.The deceiver’s hand came up to grasp onto Mijonr, lips curled into a disappointed pout even as pale green eyes locked onto his. “T'or, please. She’s hurt.”And may the gods be merciful, no one but Loki could sound like that. No one else called him T'or, no one else even dared to try. Mijonr was hooked onto his belt before Thor could fully think the action through and he was steering Loki to stand beside the still hysterical Lady Wraith.In all the years Thor had wished for this meeting to happen, he had never thought it would be like this. His brother half broken and cowering under Thor's hand, Ollie near screaming on the ground, her hands clutching her temples as she curled onto her side.It wasn’t fair.It wasn’t fair at all.Swallowing back bile, Thor collapsed onto the ground, his legs folding under him gracelessly as he gently tugged Ollie onto his lap, Loki all but curling into his side as the Lady Wraith’s cries dissolved into whimpers.“What were you thinking?” Thor murmured, his fingers tugging at the straw-like hair.(And wasn’t that wrong? Ollie's hair had always shone like gold, almost putting the Lady Queen's locks to shame. Her hair should cascade over his fingers like a waterfall, not like some flaxen seed ready to burst into flame at any moment.)Like always, Loki understood what Thor was asking. For once, the boy didn’t have a ready answer. He didn’t have a razor sharp grin and a blank mask to offer. Pain and time had made the boy's face worn and wary. Someone would pay in blood for those changes, Thor thought absently.“The All Father threatened you.” Loki hissed, hands curling into fists on his legs. “The All Father threatened you and no one knew where you had gone and Mother was not even sure if you lived and I couldn’t…”And suddenly, Thor realized what it must have looked like from the other side. Mother had undoubtedly told Loki of his adoption, if not her own suspicions of his origins, and Thor, the protector, the older brother. The one Loki had just learned had done all but sacrificed his princedom to keep the boy safe, was cast aside like a uninteresting doll. Thor thought it torture to be exiled to Midgard but Loki had been exiled in his own court, in his own home.Was it any wonder the boy had rebelled?“I thought I could force the All Father's hand. I thought if he could just see that the people suffered with you gone, he would…. Well. He would…” Loki trailed off, his eyes uncharacteristically downcast.“You thought he would bring me back due to the pressure of the court.” Thor finished, his eyes fluttering shut as he slumped slightly, his fingers absently stilling mid-braid in Ollie's hair. “Mother said you formed a rebellion.”Thor was sick of this. Of the half formed answers. The misdirection. The subtle nods his mother would give him, the glares his father would lay down across the throne room. He was sick of all of it. Jane, whenever Thor had mentioned his home, heavily edited to an approximation of Midgardian culture, would shake her head and mutter politics. Not for the first time, Thor resisted the urge to do the same.Frigga would have loved Jane.Odin would not have been able to get past Jane's home planet to even look beyond at the woman's phenomenal ability to calculate not just the stars, but possible movements of the tree. Thor would be the first to admit Jane’s calculations were a bit rough and her theory still in the planning stage, but Thor was impressed Jane had managed to pull this information from near thin air.“Where were you?” Loki suddenly whispered, his crooked (Thor never thought he could hate someone but whoever had the nerve, the audacity to break Loki, a trickster, a handcrafter, a mage's fingers, deserved a full session under Ollie's knife).“Here.” Thor said with a gesture, his words still stuck in his throat. “I was here.” He tied off the end of Ollie’s braid and nodded to the world below the outcrop of rock they had all settled on. Loki’s eyebrows ticked up into his hairline and Thor fought the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair.“You mean to tell me that the All-Father dropped you onto this Norn-forsaken magicless rock and I spent the better part of two years wandering though the back branches of Yggdrasil with your insufferable Warrior Three and you were here all along?” Loki raged, his voice climbing higher in pitch as he gestured to the admittedly barren forest.Unable to help himself, Thor grinned. “Well, there was this woman…”Loki dropped his head into his hands. “Of course, there was.” He paused, his eyes growing wide as he looked between the Lady Wraith on Thor’s lap and Thor’s somewhat protective curl around her. “Don’t tell me you had a child!”Thor sputtered, nearly dropping Ollie as he lunged for Loki’s collar. “What? No!” He shook the boy. “Midgardian’s don’t age that fast.”Loki gave him a rather dubious look. “And how long are the pregnancies?”It was always like this, Thor thought as he clenched his jaw and tugged on Ollie’s braid. Loki spoke circles around him, and Thor placed his foot in his mouth. Ever the diplomat his brother was. “I came from Asgard.” Thor spoke slowly, trying to make his brother understand that saving him was the primary objective and finding the Lady Wraith was a mere accident.“To save the mother of your child.” Loki nodded decisively.That was it, his mother was going to have to deal with only having one child. No one would ever suspect the youngest prince’s killer was the older brother. He’d get away with it. He really would.“Loki,” Thor murmured, his hands fidgeting as he tried to get the words out. “We thought you were dead. Odin called me back to the court when you, you…when…” Thor choked. He had mourned Loki. He had stood beside his mother and buried a set of his brother’s knives in her courtyard in the dead of the night, Lady Ingrid a silent guard beside them. Odin had ordered Loki’s rooms emptied; it was only with the help of the Warrior Three that Thor had managed to salvage anything.The Queen had only managed to hide Loki’s things still scattered around sitting room. All of Loki’s notes, all of his craft, his life, was gone. Thor didn’t think Frigga would ever forgive Odin for erasing her son’s life from her halls. Thor didn’t think the Warrior Three would ever forgive the transgression either.Thor certainly could not forgive Odin but that was not news.“Loki. Mother sent me to find you.”It was unsettling the way Loki seemed to pause, his mouth opening and closing as he choked on thin air. Thor wasn’t sure what hurt more, that the boy thought Thor wouldn’t have come to save him, or that he only saved him due to convenience.“Whethgost.”Thor startled, his hands tightening in Ollie’s jacket as she began to shudder in his hold. Across from him, Loki swore, his hands emitting a soft slow as he called on his sparks, his fingers brushing over Ollie’s forehead.“Thor, he’s going to burn Whethgost.” Ollie’s eyes were wild and glazed, her hands trembling on his cloak as she tried to haul herself up. “They had your brother. They had him. You have to get him out of here.” The words were scratched and hoarse, befitting a prisoner rather than a Valkyrie.Whethgost had burned already, Thor could still smell the smoke from his Father’s wrath and somedays he swore the hangover from that night still pounded at his temples. But that wasn’t important. Not at the moment. Not when Ollie looked small, fragile, and broken, even under the warrior braids he had threaded through her hair. One arm hung heavy from her shoulder and Thor could see the way she hunched over to protect the joint.Someone had hurt a Valkyrie, and may the gods bear witness to the lightening Thor would call down on these Midgardian mortals.“I don’t…” Loki cut himself off with a growl as the glow under his hands flickered. “Someone played with her mind. I can’t… I don’t….” Thor could hear his teeth grinding even over the breeze his storm was kicking up. “Mother was always better at this then I.”Suddenly it was as if the past few decades had never happened. This was like when they were children and touring the colonies with Mother. Loki would inevitably wander off and Thor would follow, the Warrior Three trailing behind. Loki was always the one to patch them back together when there was the inevitable fall out. This was like the times before Whethgost, before Odin took Thor away.The scene was bittersweet. Loki was looking at him with trust he hadn’t seen since long before either of their exiles, but Ollie was hurt. Ollie was hurt and talking nonsense. Ollie was talking like the Honoured Ones. Like the warriors who could no longer attend Odin’s feasts, the noise and the people too much for them to sit beside for long periods of time. Ollie looked like the scouts she had pretended not to see sneaking away from the camp late at night.For Jane’s sake, Midgard would not burn under Thor’s wrath. For Ollie’s sake, Thor would put to good use her lessons on subtle subterfuge.“Mother could help her?” Thor enquired as he stood up, Ollie shaking in his hold, mumbled nonsense spilling from her lips.If Ollie truly was like the Honoured Ones, there was no fixing this. But there were ways to help her. To settle her back into her skin and let her live. He could at least give her that much.Loki straightened, scoffing as he pulled his hands away from Ollie’s temples. “Of course, Mother could help her, Ollie is terrifying and beautiful. Mother would adopt her if you didn’t keep an eye out.” Then he seemed to catch what he had said, and Loki’s hands clutched on to Thor’s cloak with an awful kind of desperation. “Wait. No. You can’t. There’s…”Thor paused, ice creeping into his veins as Loki tried to haul Ollie into his own arms. “There’s what, Loki? I am listening.”On his hip, Mjolnir hummed as it always did just before Thor strode into battle, and Thor only had enough time to carefully drop Ollie into Loki’s hands before something slammed into him with the force of Sindre’s fury. Rock exploded under his feet as Thor fell, and he barely had the presence of mind to tuck into a roll as the forest floor rushed up to meet him.Far above his head, Ollie began to laugh.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You know, I never thought about what would happen after the war.” Ollie said, his customary smirk lost somewhere back in those German woods months ago. The fire threw shadows over his face and Bucky only knew how much the question had thrown the boy for a loop when his hands shook trying to light the cigarettes he only pulled out on the high stakes missions. “Send the Captain back to school. Hook up with that one doll… you know, that painted little thing with the green dress?”
If his voice shook, Bucky pretended not to hear it. Instead, Bucky snorted softly in disbelief even as he stood up to grab another scrap of wood to throw on the smoldering fire. “Come on Ollie, you've always got a plan. Don’t let me down now.”

In retrospect, maybe he should have turned around. Maybe he should have really looked at the boy who had crawled through New York with him and Steve. Maybe he should have had the nerve to stare him down, even if only out of loyalty for what the boy had done to Bucky's Old Man.

But he hadn’t. Bucky hadn’t looked up and all he heard was a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s a plan. I’m just not sure you'll like it. All you have to do is stand back and enjoy the plane ride.”

…***…
Oliver Bakker was dead.Bucky hadn't fired off a single shot.Oliver had died hitting the ground somewhere in the Swiss Alps and God help him, Bucky had let him die slowly.
(There was cold nipping at his fingers and ice layering over his boots and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Where was Steve? He couldn’t see Steve. Bucky couldn’t breathe. There was water in his lungs and frost spreading across his skin and dear lord God HE COULDN’T BREATHE.)
Steve would never forgive him. The Commandos would never forgive him. Howard would never forgive him. Peggy had tried to cross that bridge, but Bucky knew better.Ollie had died slow.Bucky would never be able to forgive himself.If he had been one second faster, Ollie would have been on that roof instead. Bucky would have been able to keep Steve from doing something extraordinarily stupid and all three of then would have met up with Carter for drinks that evening. They would have finished out the war, gone back home to that dingy little apartment, Steve would finish his classes, Bucky would work with Stark, and Ollie would do whatever the hell he did in the evenings all while making Carter an honest woman. It would have been tough, they'd be climbing the walls out of boredom, but Steve wouldn’t have been sick and Ollie would have been alive.Alive.Living. Breathing. Whole.Except…apparently that wasn't the truth, because Ollie. Little Ollie Bakker, the scourge of Sister Lilian's mathematics class and Bucky's first friend aside from Steve, was not dead.He was not dead.Ollie.Ollie wasn’t…The gun dropped from Bucky's nerveless fingers as he lunged forward. Ollie was flailing. Trapped under some psychopath’s arm.Ollie didn’t like touch anymore. He hadn’t been able to stand it after his mission that brought him to Germany. Bucky had never been able to make him admit what had happened on that mission, but after Ollie had flipped Steve over his shoulder when Steve had startled him during training, Bucky hadn’t asked again. There were some things he didn’t want to know the answer to.Only, Ollie was grinning. It wasn’t his happy grin, no, that had died in the woods somewhere between a Hydra base and nearly being decapitated for the third time in two days. No, this was his feral grin. The same one Bucky had seen Logan sporting after a good fight. The same one Bucky had seen on his own face in the mirror. That was the grin that said the mission had gone well. No one had been hurt and there was just the perfect amount of tension left in his limbs to let him go a few more rounds in the makeshift ring.That was the grin they had to make sure neither Steve nor Chester saw, least there be a one-way ticket off the front lines stamped with their names.The war had taken something from all of them. For the first time, Bucky thought to wonder what Ollie had lost, aside from his life.And then Ollie was falling backwards out of the quinjet, his head turned to the side, tucked into the neck of the enemy.Ollie was proud. He wouldn’t ask for mercy twice. Not when Bucky had already failed once before.“Oliver!” Bucky screamed, his voice broken and cracked as he struggled forward against whoever was suddenly holding him back. “Let me go! Let me go! Let me……***…
…go!” The world was a grey smear outside of the door and Bucky had never hated a sight as much as he had in that moment. Someone had him by the arms, his rifle was thrown haphazardly on the floor and Steve was near catatonic in Logan's hold.

This wasn’t possible.

This wasn’t acceptable.

This wasn’t…

“Ollie! Ollie! No! I have to get him. I have to get him. He needs me. Please! OLLIE!” Bucky threw himself forward again, one hand snapping out of the hold as he reached for his rifle. He wasn’t sure if he was going to give mercy or rain down fire, but Bucky had to do it.

Bucky had to be the one to do it.
Ollie had looked at him. Had begged Bucky to take the shot. Bucky had promised all those months ago, drunk under the heady realization they weren’t in a Hydra cell and Steve had pulled a miracle of all miracles out of thin air. He had promised to never leave either of his roommates behind.
He had promised to never leave Ollie behind.

“Let me…”
…***…“…GO! Oliver needs me!”Not Ollie. He could never call him Ollie again. Not after the fall. Not after the train.Not after he had failed.“Oliver!” Bucky's throat was raw, the world was tilting under his feet, and the only thing keeping him up was the arms wrapping around his torso. He couldn’t leave Ollie. He couldn’t leave him. Bucky wouldn’t leave Ollie behind again. Bucky kept struggling, the howling winds tearing away his words and sinking a chill deeper than the ice into his bones. Ollie had fallen. Ollie had fallen out of the quinjet. Ollie was taken. Ollie was…Ollie was…God, there were so many different ways to end that sentence. Alive. Angry. Bitter. Hiding.But it didn’t matter because Ollie was alive. Alive. He was alive and…Bucky had told him to go home. Bucky had told him to go home and Ollie had outright said who he was. He had said he was Ghost. The Ghost. Had tried to show the tattoo Bucky had only ever see glimpses of as proof. And Bucky had told him that he didn’t understand.Ollie had pulled Bucky aside in the hallway, verified it was him with Rebecca's old nickname, and begged for help and Bucky hadn’t noticed because Ollie was supposed to be dead and why was Ollie hiding?What was Ollie hiding from?And his arm. A whole arm, gone. Bucky had felt that prosthetic, had clocked the meaning from a mile away. In some ways this was so much worse than his first assumption, that this was Becca's child, because the vision of Ollie crawling out of the mountains, missing one arm, dragged a whine from the back of Bucky’s throat.What had Bucky done? What had he done? Ollie had waltzed into camp after being declared KIA often enough that they should have looked for him immediately. They should have looked for him, the odds of his survival be damned. They should have gone back for him. They should have…“Bucky!” Steve’s shout pulled Bucky up short, his spiraling thoughts halting under the realization whoever had held him had let go of his arms, letting him drop to his knees. “Bucky, we’ll get him back. I promise. I just need you to breathe.”Bucky paused, his hands shaking as he forced himself to focus on his husband’s blurry face. Instinctively, he managed to unclench his jaw enough to haul in a shuddering breath, barely registering Steve’s worried frown. All the rage, all the disgust, all the guilt that had been burrowing through his veins condensed into a burning ball of pulsing anger and bewilderment, burning a hole behind his ribs.Ollie.Someone had just taken Ollie.Bucky wouldn’t abandon his duty again.“We’re going to get him.” Bucky rasped. The words burned with a sense of desperation Bucky hadn’t felt since the last time Steve had been bed bound and the doctor had simply recommended for Sarah to pray. “We aren’t leaving him behind again.”“No. You aren’t.”Somewhere in the mess of the entire situation, Bucky had forgotten that Howard’s son was on the quinjet with them. His faceplate was down and there was hardly anytime between the moment Tony had spoken and a red fist slamming into the release button for the bay doors. Still, Stark’s son knew how to make his words count as Bucky found himself flinching away from the rasped sentence.…***…“You let him die!” Howard screamed as his hands wrapped into Bucky’s collar. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt, and the only reason Bucky didn’t pull himself out of Howard’s grasp was he knew it was true.Bucky had let Ollie die. He had let Ollie die. He hadn’t said a word about Ollie taking his place in the line. Hadn’t fought the change in position. Had been glad that he wouldn’t have to be on the inside of the train. He had been happy.
And now, Ollie was dead.

“I hope it was worth it.” Howard spat, his fingers uncurling from Bucky’s collar. “Because you just lost everything.”
…***…“I’m going to go find him and I’m going to bring him back.” Tony spat, the words sounding exactly like his father’s venom that Bucky found himself hunching his shoulders.The quinjet rocked in the air and Bucky could hear the Firebrand cursing in the cockpit. This had to be the storm to end all storms and they were right in the center of it, no safety to be seen. By all rights, Bucky should have been strapping himself in. Should have been arguing to abandon the mission. He should have been begging for it to be declared a failure.The madman was gone, Ollie was MIA at best, and there was a good chance that if this plane went down, there wasn’t going to be a second miracle. If this craft went down, the only one who would be walking away was Howard’s son.Well, they had always beaten worse odds.“We’re going with you.” Bucky declared, already grabbing another chute, absently shoving one into Steve’s hands. God help him, he wasn’t staying behind this time. He wasn’t going to stay behind to let Ollie die alone. Not again.Howard’s son jerked his head down in a nod, throwing himself out the door even as Bucky blindly followed, his hands jerking the straps into place. For the second time in three hours, he threw himself out of a plane, trusting the fact his husband would be a few seconds behind him.He wasn’t going to fail again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Howard had always told Tony, that if something wasn’t working, you took the problem and flipped it around until something clicked into place. Somehow, Tony doubted this was what his father meant by that statement. One should probably not take the brother of a maybe God (that still had to be a typo in the file) and throw them into a tree, before valiantly attempting to break said god's nose.If Tony kept considering himself agnostic at the best of times, then that meant no divine intervention could occur in the god's favour. Right?Right.Yes.This was how everything was going to work out. Tony was going to break this bastard's nose, hog tie the asshole of God, save his godfather, and then go home and tear his father a new one for hiding this entire clusterfuck from Aunt Peggy. Because Aunt Peggy, while she might have been able to allow her first husband to go undercover for longer than Tony had been alive, she would never have been able to keep Ollie away from the Captain and the Sargent. If any of Aunt Peggy's stories were true, then Uncle Ollie would have dragged himself across the world to check in on Tony's other Uncles.For Uncle Ollie not to have made contact before now, for those videos Tony had forced himself to watch over and over again, hoping for some clue, to be the truth, then something somewhere had gone terribly wrong. Either someone had lied to Aunt Peggy, an unforgivable act on its own, or someone, possibly his father, had known this entire time.And Tony was furious. He knew desperation, knew how the ache settled into bone and pulsed with every beat of a heart. He knew it better than almost everyone, and he knew how to see recognize desperation in someone else's face. The gods (really, what else could he call them) were desperate but that had nothing on the sheer agony on Uncle Ollie's face. Uncle Ollie, a figure that had remained stoic throughout all the stories told during Tony's entire childhood, was terrified, desperate, and who knew what else, and Tony couldn’t let that stand.“You took him!” Tony growled, the doubled tones of the speaker making his voice sound almost demonic as he threw the blondie into the trees. “You took him, and you hurt him!”Because, Uncle Ollie couldn’t have been hurt by Aunt Peggy's people. He couldn’t have been. And Tony had a fair idea of how many times Uncle Ollie had dragged himself out of ditches to stumble back to the Howling Commandos. Tony knew all the stories and when Howard had always made it very clear that nothing short of Divine Intervention could have stopped Tony's Godfather from coming home, Tony was willing to believe him.And look, there were two very convenient gods right here.“Hey, Shakespeare-in-the-park, what did you do to my Uncle?” There was some sort of sick excitement twisting behind Tony's ribs and it wasn’t all that surprising when his gauntlets began to glow, JARVIS sounding little more than a cautionary sigh.Blondie was going to get hurt and Tony was the one who was going to make him bleed. This wasn’t going to be like the beat downs in MIT, where Tony would have to slink away behind Rhodes, the big ol'teddy bear, his knuckles scrapped raw and his head ringing. No. Tony was going to make Blondie bleed and then he was going to take Uncle Ollie home, but first he had to know. Tony had to know why Uncle Ollie couldn’t come home.“Come on Shakespeare, doth mother knoweth you wear her drapes?”*The taunt dropped before Tony could formulate a way to ask. Anger thrummed through his veins and the hum of the suit wasn’t as soothing as it usually was.Blondie hauled himself up to his feet gracelessly, one hand rubbing at the back of his skull as he gave Tony a squinty-eyed look. “You are nephew of the Lady Wraith?”It didn’t take much for Tony to decide he was going to take offence to the disbelief colouring Blondie's tone. Weren’t gods supposed to be omnipotent? Weren’t they supposed to be so far above mortals they were beyond reproach and mortal comprehension? (The few Christian classes Tony's mother had insisted he take as a child had always made it very clear that God was both savior and punisher. Tony had never learned much more than that, instead he was requested to leave the ‘class'. Oddly enough, Tony could not remember his mother ever insisting he return.) Weren’t gods supposed to be better?Tony tensed slightly as Blondie raked a hand through his hair, his fingers pausing on something threaded into braids that glinted in the soft light of the sunset. “I was not aware Lady Wraith's brothers had children.” He rumbled, his mouth turning down into a frown, almost looking like a petulant child when he continued in a musing tone. “But then, I was not aware Lady Wraith's family had survived.”Tony choked, his train of thought derailing into a fiery inferno. “Lady Wraith?”Blondie's eyes narrowed even as he drew himself to his -it hurt for Tony to even admit it- rather impressive height. “The Lady Wraith is a Valkyrie and will be given the full honour her status demands.”Considering Tony had just watched his uncle give a rather impressive dress down to not just one, but two probable gods, he wasn’t going to argue giving the man any form of honour. However, there was the slight problem of…“He is my Uncle.” Tony made sure to stress the title, the honorific. Ollie was his Uncle, and he was family. “My family. And honestly, Shakespeare, we don’t need you.”Mentally, Tony winced even as the words came out of his mouth in a snarled bite. There was always the problem of Stark pride. It was a rather hubristic trait to work around, and Tony had no problem admitting that upfront. Besides, Uncle Ollie was Uncle Ollie, no matter what gender he was saddled with at birth.“Why did you take him?” Tony demanded; his hand still raised to shoot at the annoying bastard of a God.“Why did you stop her from returning?” Blondie countered, his tone dropping down an octave.Under the faceplate, Tony’s eye twitched in annoyance. If there was one thing Howard had always been very clear about in every glorified and over enthusiastic tale he told, it was that nothing and no one could stop Ollie from doing what he wanted to do. Ollie did whatever the hell he wanted to do and no one, not even the Captain or the Sargent, could stop him once his mind was made up.<Sir. Local weather stations have issued a warning regarding a sudden shift in atmospheric pressure in the immediate area, urging all individuals to seek shelter>For the first time since Tony had touched down, JARVIS' soothing tones murmured in his ear. Aside from Pepper, Rhodes, and Aunt Peggy, there was only one other person who Tony consistently heeded, and JARVIS knew it.Slowly, Tony looked up to the sky. JARVIS' voice in his ear was the closest Tony would ever come to divine intervention, present company excluded, and if JARVIS sounded concerned, Tony was going to find out, one way or another. Overhead, the sky was quickly turning black. Flashes of lightening forked down from the heavens, and Tony only spotted the quinjet struggling through the storm due to JARVIS' helpful overlay on the feed from the optic lenses. JARVIS also helped in finding the rather comedic sight of Uncle Steve and Uncle James, tumbling through the sky.“What the hell?” Tony drawled, suddenly feeling like a child under a graveyard sky.“Let me ask you, nephew of my guard, what happened to my Valkyrie?” Blondie rasped, his voice dropping down another octave.It took everything Tony had not to stumble back a step when he saw the sparks jumping from Blondie’s shoulders. While the man still had the rather comedic look as if he had stumbled off the set of a Nordic version of a Shakspearian play, there was something other that Tony couldn’t pin down. It wasn’t the same as his uncle’s, the timelessness and despondency that seemed to drip from their pores. No, this was something else.Something far worse.Something other.For the first time, Tony was willing to admit that maybe the file was correct. Maybe these men were ‘gods’ or at least something not from this heap of rock. Magic, or at least earth understanding of magic couldn’t be real, but Tony was willing to admit that technology and science that had been advanced to such a degree could certainly mimic the phenomena, but this was something else. This wasn’t a simple mutation, the likes of which had suddenly seemed to crop up across the world in a startling frequency.These men weren’t mutants.Tony had seen a video of the X-Men in action, had seen Storm seemingly call the winds and the storms to her side. Somehow, Tony didn’t think that was what Blondie was doing. No, Tony didn’t think that this other was doing at all.Growing up, Tony could remember his mother hanging a rosary off the post of his bed with a soft smile. “We don’t tempt bad luck, darling.” His mother had murmured as she brushed his bangs back with soft hands. “We don’t tempt things into seeking an invitation at all. Not when we can prevent it.” It was odd for sure, but Tony had always figured Howard had put up with his wife’s quirks with the understanding he had put her through much worse. That rosary had ended up tucked away in Tony’s work bench the moment he had begun MIT. From the looks of it, maybe Tony should had borrowed his mother’s superstitions and kept some of her warnings in his pocket, rather then tucked away in the back of a dark drawer.There was no need to borrow, or invite trouble, indeed.“Someone hurt him.” Tony admitted as he grudgingly shifted his gaze to the two figures hunkered down on the rocks above his head. “Someone, maybe you, took him and made him scream until he couldn’t talk anymore.”Tony had found those files when he was a child, long before MIT. His mother had thought that Tony had snuck out to watch scary movies around the corner at the theater. His allowance had been restricted for three months and he had scrubbed the floor of Howard’s personal shop until his fingers were raw. The punishment had made him tired, and on the good days, Tony had been able to sleep without the images making him wake up screaming. On the bad days, there was nothing to stop the nightmares. It was the first time Tony had ever thought to question Howard’s war stories. However, it wasn’t the last time Tony had gone searching for answers that he should have left well enough alone.Not even fourteen and Tony knew the value of the question do you really want to know?Did he really want to know?His uncle collapsed above him. A god standing furious in front of him. The world screaming as a storm ripped itself into a frenzy. The Pandora File flashing silently in the corner of his vision.Was there any other answer?Blondie took a step forward, sparks gliding under his skin, flashing a beat to the howls of the winds. “I find not just my brother, second to the throne, favoured child of the Queen, taught by the Lady Ingrid herself, and expected to one day help command not just the Asgardian army, but the Valkyries themselves, under threat by one of our own. Not under protection, no, under threat, of the Lady Wraith. The Lady Wraith maybe my guard in years past, but she is expected to kneel to only to the Queen and my brother. Yet, I find her threatening him while screaming for me to take him and run.” Blondie shook his head even as he stalked forward, his words dropping from his mouth with far more venom then Tony had heard since the first time he had ever been called the Merchant of Death. “Tell me, nephew of my Shield-Sister, what happened?”
<Sir? Shall I…>
Tony discreetly shook his head, even while he did something that would have made Pepper and Aunt Peggy smack him upside the head. He lowered his hand. “You actually don’t know.”Tony didn’t know why he was so surprised. No one ever seemed to ever know anything. Howard didn’t know what had happened to Uncle Ollie. Aunt Peggy didn’t know why Uncle Ollie hadn’t come by earlier. The Icebox uncles didn’t know Uncle Ollie was alive, and this so-called god didn’t seem to realize that Uncle Ollie wasn’t some immortal something or another. At this point, Tony was positive the only one who did seem to know what was going on, was Uncle Ollie himself.A sudden crash accompanied by cursing told Tony that his Uncles had managed to land somewhat safely somewhere in the woods behind him. Without looking back, Tony gave a sharp whistle that came out as a shriek over the speaker of the suit. (Mentally wincing, Tony admitted at least to himself that there was another problem with the suit he had to look into. Pepper would not be happy that this interrupted date night.)“I suggest that we all go back to the Helicarrier and try to figure out what’s going on.” Tony offered, hoping that his uncles would hear him over the roaring storm. It wasn’t often that he tried to be diplomatic, preferring instead to know who would backstab him the fastest and why, but even he knew when not to push an obviously irritated alien (it was a better option then the man being a god, honestly).“My brother is of the royal line of Asgard. He will not be harmed.” Blondie rumbled, his hand dropping down to the hammer Tony had been doing his best to ignore as a threat. “And the Lady Wraith is to be given medical attention while we discuss the situation.”The good news, Tony decided, was that Blondie was willing to negotiate. The bad news was that Tony couldn’t actually agree to anything. Howard had always made it very clear that Tony was to be doing no work for SHEILD unless it was under contract in either Aunt Peggy’s personal department or in Howard’s shop. While it had always protected him from most of the blow ups SHEILD had incurred in the past, in this case it was a hindrance. Tony couldn’t agree to any terms on behalf of SHIELD, not unless he was willing to sign himself over to the annoying pirate of a man that had taken over from Aunt Peggy. Which left him in a bit of a bind. If both ‘gods’ were royalty then SHEILD would probably see this entire attack as not just an attempt to kill most of their agents, but an invasion force threatening Earth.“I can’t promise anything, Shakespeare, but I can tell you my people won’t attack unless in self-defense, and my Uncle is getting looked at one way or another.”Realistically, they’d be lucky if the council didn’t threaten to break out the big guns over this spat.
<Sir. I have taken the liberty to suggest Lock Down Procedures to Ms. Potts and a copy of the Pandora File has been backed up to the tower servers.>
For a moment, Tony couldn’t breathe. Pepper should have been gone from Stark Tower by now. She had promised to hunker down in Malibu while he dealt with his Father’s latest shitshow. If she hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, then…
<Ms. Potts would like me to remind you that she had a meeting with the Board of Directors this morning. I advised her to remain at Stark Towers due to the updated security system, Sir.>
Oh. Well. That was alright then.“You’re doing alright, J.” Tony managed to rasp out as he forced himself to haul in a rattling breath. It wouldn’t do to panic in front of either of his uncles. It wouldn’t do at all.“…an attack on two worlds. I cannot forgive the attempt on my brother’s life by the orders of your people, yet I am willing to admit that there might be extenuating circumstances, wherein which, Asgard would be willing to give reparations once a contract has been drafted and signed by all representatives of all the parties involved.” Blondie rattled off, his back ramrod straight as he stared Tony down.“J?” Tony would forever deny he squeaked. It wasn’t often Tony lost time when he zoned out, but it happened frequently enough that JARVIS had learned to report back whatever situation he deemed Tony unable to recall.“Is this acceptable, Midgardian?” Blondie inquired, his head tilting slightly as he reached up to touch a braid Tony hadn’t noticed earlier.Before Tony could ask JARVIS for any information as to what he was possibly agreeing to, Uncle Steve took a step forward, his shield moving to the harness on his back. “Provided what you said is accurate, I would be willing to stand for Ollie.”Uncle Bucky’s eyeroll hardly escaped Tony’s notice, but he was still surprised when the man stepped in front of Tony, his hands tucked into his beltloops. “What you are requesting might take a bit.” Uncle Bucky warned, his voice dropping low. “Some of the people who would need to be involved are currently scattered, dealing with the political fallout your brother incurred.”Something warm unfurled behind Tony’s ribs at the realization that Uncle Bucky and Uncle Steve had stepped in front of him. Of Tony. They hadn’t even known him for twenty-four hours yet and they were willing to stand where only Aunt Peggy, Pepper, and Rhodes had stood previously when things truly went south.It was only JARVIS’ soft hum and replay of the last few moments in the bottom of Tony’s viewscreen that kept Tony from opening his mouth and possibly saying somethings he would regret later. Instead, it seemed Uncle Steve managed to beat him to it.“Also,” Uncle Steve drawled, his hand waving in the direction Tony had first threw a punch at the Blondie, “are you going to represent the individuals you have since allowed to get away, or are you representing yourself?”Tony only had enough time to think that maybe Uncle Steve really was the reckless idiot Aunt Peggy had always lamented about before the world dissolved into one rolling scream and brilliant white light.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Natasha’s back hit the ground a split second before her head bounced off the floor. Dazed, she lay there, her arms flat on the ground and her chest heaving as she tried to suck in a breath without jostling her aching ribs. Everything hurt.

“Again.” The Soldier murmured, her boots shifting slightly into Natasha’s view as the Soldier paced a circle around Natasha’s head.

Natasha grimaced into the loose strands of hair that had settled across her face, her calves twitching at the thought of even moving further then onto her side to throw up. The Matron would be furious that her hair had come loose. The Soldier was probably annoyed that Natasha had allowed her pains to overcome her. Rita would be disappointed that Natasha wasn’t going to be able to pick the locks and curl up under the bed with her at night.

Natasha was just tired.

She wasn’t even sure she could haul herself to her feet and do it all again.

“Up.” Soldier ordered as she stopped at Natasha’s head, her boots just missing Natasha’s slowly unwinding braid. Her gaze turning to the locked door at the front of the training room. “Get up.”

“Please.” Natasha whispered, turning her head to the side, staring at the calluses that wrapped around her palms and fingers. “Please Babushka. Please don’t…”

A hand grabbed her upper arm, dragging her up to her feet. Natasha knew better then to yelp, still, it took biting her lip and ducking her head from reacting and making the situation worse.

“Get up. Do it again.”

“Babushka, please.” The moment the words dropped from her bloodied lips Natasha knew she had made a mistake.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her head bowed, her shoulders tense. This was bad. This was very bad. Weapons didn’t beg. Spider’s didn’t get to question, to speak. Just because they were alone, just because the door was locked, didn’t mean that Natasha could talk back. Still, “I’m sorry.”

The hand around her arm tightened before letting go. Fingers brushed across Natasha’s cheek, twisting to tuck a flyaway behind Natasha’s ear. “Oh darling,” Soldier whispered as she dropped down onto her knees, “never beg and never apologize.”

Eyes widening, Natasha snuck a look up at Soldier. It wouldn’t do to hope, to think that her slip of the tongue was correct. That this wasn’t just Soldier but…

“Your Uncles would be so proud of you, my little Spider. They would be so proud.” Aunt Ollie murmured, her hands gently turning Natasha around and pushing for her to sit down on the floor. “Now, lets get that braid redone and you can tell me what you did wrong in that little scenario.”
…***…Proud.Her Uncles would be proud.Once, the mere thought of her uncles’ pride could have made her tear up under her Babushka’s small smile. Now, Natasha knew better.“Don’t you dare jump out that door James Barnes!” Natasha shouted as she wrestled to keep the quinjet on the flightpath. Pride didn’t mean anything when her Uncles were colossal dumbasses.No wonder Ollie had been near fanatical about making sure Natasha and the other spiders were always in view during missions. If her Uncles were anymore like disoriented lemmings, Ollie would have probably murdered them both out of sheer frustration.Between someone, somehow, walking into the quinjet midair, their fourth mysterious agent that no one had warned Natasha about until they were walking back onto the quinjet in the middle of Germany, and a storm breaking out overhead, Natasha was a little bit stressed. Tony Stark had dropped into the quinjet too, and Natasha would have liked more warning then the man suddenly appearing in a scream of Thunderstruck.Although, if nothing else, Natasha had to appreciate the irony of the song choice, considering whose brother they might have on board.“I have been lied to.” Natasha snarled as she heard the door slam open behind her. With the quinjet shuddering in the storm she didn’t dare turn to look over her shoulder. So far, the lightening hadn’t come close enough to be worrisome but at the same time, it was typically Clint that would be flying during these types of situations. “I have been lied to and I am not happy.”“Agent Romanoff.” Fury barked over the speakers, “What the hell is going on?”It didn’t take much for Natasha to lean over and slam an open palm over the comms switch without acknowledging the Director. If Clint was there, he would have been crying in laughter at the fact that Natasha, goody-two shoes Natasha, the last one to disobey orders, was effectively shutting out the man who could order her termination, simply because of a few overblown storm clouds.On the other hand, if Clint were here, Natasha wouldn’t be facing this problem in the first place. No, if Clint were here, he would be flying, and she would be hauling everyone by the back of their collars into the quinjet.Better yet, this mission wouldn’t be happening in the first place.“Babushka.” Natasha snarled as the quinjet rattled in the storm. “You had better be watching this, because your brothers are a couple of идиот.”…***…Staring out the windshield, Natasha forced her hands to stop shaking and her heart to slow down. She was alive. Somehow, she was alive. The quinjet was in one piece, the forest was not torn to bits, and the clearing she had maneuvered the quinjet into landing in, was pretty much intact.It was just a shame that Natasha had to turn off both the GPS along with the comms when she had shut out Fury. Clint was never going to believe that she had managed to land even with a storm acting against her. Hell, Natasha could barely believe it herself.“Idiots.” Natasha reminded herself as she hauled herself out of the pilot’s seat. “I have to go get the idiots.”Somehow, this was not what Natasha had envisioned herself doing when word had first gotten to her that her Uncle’s had been found. Although, to be honest, she wasn’t sure when she had thought anyone related to Ollie could have been dignified considering the odd situations Ollie had managed to get herself into when Natasha was younger.Unsteady, she managed to stumble to the still open door of the quinjet. During the landing, she had seen something flash in the middle of the woods, probably no more then half a kilometer out from where she had touched down. In all likelihood, that was where everyone else had gathered to beat each other black and blue.Men.If you were going to fight, then you had better make sure that only one person was going to walk away from the scuffle. Ollie had taught her that much.“Secretary! You did manage to land the plane.”For a split second, Natasha debated slamming a blade into the joint of the Ironman suit. It wouldn’t hurt the man, she reasoned, but the shock would certainly make her feel better, considering the way he had acted when she had worked as a desk assistant. On the other hand, Fury would probably be annoyed at the movement, and Natasha did not have either the time or the patience to deal with the Director in the foreseeable future.“You're late.” Natasha simply stated, pushing herself up from the doorframe. “Not that that is unusual.” She couldn’t see his face under the faceplate, but she had a feeling Stark was glaring at her with the same expression he would give the mountain of paperwork that piled up after he had annoyed Ms. Potts. Was she a little petty? Probably. But after the week she had had, Natasha figured it was excusable.“Agent, there have been some developments.” Uncle Steve cut in, his hand slashing through the air as her attention shifted over to him. “Prince Thor, here, would like to speak to the Director.”Well, that changed things. Natasha cast a look at the so -called prince. The blond giant held a firm hand on the back of Loki’s neck, his own gaze level as he inclined his head towards her.Slowly, Natasha nodded back, her knuckles whitening ever so slightly on the doorframe. This changed things, drastically. How high profile was Loki for a prince to come and collect him? There had been mutterings, Clint had reported, from the scientists he had been sent to guard, about other beings in the universe. In particular, there had been the one doctor, the one Clint liked to watch the best, if only because he thought differently from the others and wasn’t shy to point out mistakes, that maybe the old gods weren’t gods at all, but people from other planets that had gotten lost.It had sounded like a crackpot theory at the time, but…Natasha remembered when Director Carter had brought her before Director Fury. She remembered how the man had narrowed his eye and asked if she was from ‘around here.’ She remembered the initiation classes; about how certain cultures might clash and ‘if everyone could please not start an intergalactic war that would be helpful’.She remembered and she wondered. One comment could be written off. Two could be noted as an ongoing joke. But five? Ten?That was a trend.Natasha didn’t have the clearance Director Carter had wished for her to have. The older woman had made that very clear in the few uncomfortable dinners Natasha had been privy to between the current director and the retired one.That wasn’t to say Natasha wasn’t respected by Director Fury. No. She knew the older man liked her well enough, and he respected her enough to let her work on her own even though she had already proven a turncoat once before. The man had no need to take her on in the first place. The fact he allowed her this much leeway, even allowing her to go so far as drop lines of communication while on a high stakes mission, spoke volumes.But, first and foremost, they were spies. Knowledge and secrets were valued more than gold and stocks. Blackmail could make or break a career. Skeletons in the closet could get you even further if you knew how to rattle the right bones. And Natasha? Natasha had red dripping out of her ledger and more secrets then even Clint could read from the lines in her skin. She wasn’t going to begrudge Fury his secrets, but she would wonder.And sometimes, like right now, certain things aligned perfectly for little bits of leverage to fall neatly into her lap. Old gods indeed. This was going to bring about a crisis in faith for quite a few agents, if Natasha recalled the intake paperwork marked with religious affiliation correctly.Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we missing someone?”She wasn’t going to touch the thought an alien (Clint was going to hold this over her head forever) had basically asked to be taken to their leader.Surprisingly, everyone's face soured at her question, and something in Natasha perked up in curiosity. “Who got shot?” she asked dryly, already mentally beginning to fill out a 34c ‘death by friendly fire' form.It wouldn’t be the first time a STRIKE agent had pushed their way into a SHEILD agent's mission and gotten themselves killed for being over enthusiastic little bastards. Fortunately, Fury hadn’t deemed it necessary for Natasha to deal with STRIKE personally as of yet, so she hadn’t had the joy of filing this particular form in previous missions. Hell, Natasha wasn’t even sure she had caught this agent's name in the first place.“Our,” Uncle Steve spoke up, his frown twitching slightly, almost as if he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed, happy, or something in between, “Ghost, decided he had to be elsewhere.”Uncle Bucky gave a strangled whimper that Uncle Steve ignored.“He might come back when he's hungry.” Uncle Steve shrugged as he clapped a hand onto Uncle Bucky's shoulder. “Might not. Who knows?”Something dropped out beneath Natasha's feet (later, when nothing felt quiet as raw as it did in that moment, Natasha would whisper to Clint that the only reason she had stayed standing was because of her grip on the doorway and thousands of hours dancing her way across a stage) and her vision fuzzed.It was the little things that tended to catch her off balance. Coming to America, Natasha had feared that she would see Ollie in every corner and every shadow. She hadn’t. What tripped her up was the small things. Like the first time she had had a Coke, a real one. It had been stolen, taken from under the nose of some distracted cashier in a nameless gas station and drank while she bounced in the seat of the cab of another nameless truck driver who caterwauled a long to a godawful country song.It wasn’t until she had been trying to crush the can in her hands that she remembered Ollie scowling at a shot of vodka while on one of their first missions, muttering about how the States at least made the taste of pop strong enough to cover light dosages of alcohol and drugs.Natasha hadn't slept well that night, terrified something had been slipped into the can without her noticing. To this day, she still couldn’t drink a coke without her heartbeat speeding up and her hands shaking slightly.In all, it was the little things that made her pause. A blond woman leaning out of the side of a building, a cigarette held in hand. A quarter flashing up as some agents played heads or tails to go speak to the director. A child shrieking as their older sister swung them around at the park. A tube of red lipstick being used to write messages in a mirror at the bar.It was the small things that generally made Natasha pause, but this was no small thing.“Can you repeat that?”Uncle Bucky seemed to spasm, his hands twitching out as he turned wild eyes in her direction. “Ghost,” he choked out, his face pale, “decided to go for a walk.”Fury had promised. Fury had promised her, his hands tight on the obligatory paper SHIELD had for all agents applying into the field. The paper Natasha had written out as a series of dates, all in code, detailing the Red Room and the Soldier. Fury had promised her that no one in SHIELD or in STRIKE would take the codename Ghost or Geist. Fury had promised her, and spy or not, Fury always kept the important promises. Fury always repaid his debts in kind and Natasha had done more work for him aside from Coulson and Hill.Yet this Ублюдок dared to walk into her mission with that name.Natasha had buried Ollie years ago. She had taken a picture of Ollie. Young, unbroken, smiling Ollie, ripped it up into shreds and stood beside Director Carter, throwing the pieces into the harbour. Director Carter had once thrown Uncle Steve’s blood into those waters, and Natasha thought it fitting that Ollie joined her brother in his watery grave.No one could have survived those wounds. No one.Ollie was dead.She had to be dead.“Where did this Ghost go?” The question was dragged out from her throat and for a split second, Natasha allowed herself to fantasize about hunting down the imposter. She’d show him what a real child of a Ghost could do, haunting sounds and all.Ollie, on her good days, had been a terrifying force of nature, if only because she knew exactly how to make some of the strict teachers twitchy. For all that the Matron was positive the Spiders were somehow sneaking out at night to terrorize the guards, Natasha knew even then that Ollie had a habit of sneaking into the vents. It was Ollie who had spread the rumour of the ghost children. It was Ollie who made it seem like there was an extra dancer in the back of the row. It was Ollie who left guards gibbering and screaming in the corridors after midnight. The Matron and the soldiers might have jumped at shadows, but the Spiders always knew that the shadows were the safest place to be.The name Ghost hadn’t been a fluke after all.As one, everyone turned to look at Loki.Hanging there in Thor’s grip, he looked positively tiny, and if it weren’t for years of being told to “think damnit. Are you angry or are you bored?” Natasha would have done something she would have later regretted. If nothing else, the consequences of the Red Room had taught Natasha to at least stay her hand and think about why things were happening. She might have been a cog in a bigger machine but there was power in knowledge, and Natasha prided herself on having that in spades.“How am I supposed to know? She wasn’t exactly talking when she threw a rock at my head.” Loki snarled, his head tilting enough that Natasha saw a bruise on the corner of his temple.“A rock took down an Asgardian Prince.” Natasha drawled, her mind already running a mile a minute.Loki blinked at her. “It was a rather large rock.”Thor sighed, his head shaking slowly. “Ollie is badly hurt. If I could speak to your Director, we can speak about reparations and I can go collect my Valkyrie before going home.”There were a hundred different things Natasha was expecting. This was not one of them.…***…
“But, Babushka, what happened next?” Natasha whispered as she pulled the buckle tight on Ollie’s shoulder. The mission had gone sideways and blown up rather spectacularly, and if Natasha didn’t know better, she would have thought Ollie had planned it that way.

“Well,” Ollie hummed, her hair hanging oddly from her ponytail, the fire having gotten a little too close to comfort to the side of her head earlier, “he was a prince. A little stuck up prince who thought he knew better then everyone else. He couldn’t stand the sight of blood, hated the smell of burning flesh, and thought that little girls should be protected.” Ollie swung around, her hands catching Natasha under her arms, and flinging her up into the air, a crooked grin plastered onto her face.

Natasha whooped as she flung her arms out to the side, holding onto the sensation that for a moment, everything was going to be alright. “I know what he was.” She yelped crossly, tucking her head into Ollie’s neck when she tumbled back down into her arms. “I want to know what he did!”

“Well darling, I rather think you are going to have to help me tell that part. I wasn’t there for the rest of it.”

Natasha pulled her head back from Ollie’s neck with a pout. “But I want to know!”

Ollie gave her another crooked grin. “Well then, maybe he went out and did princely things? Like fighting a dragon?”

“Noooo.” Natasha muttered, her nose wrinkling as she tugged sharply on the end of Ollie’s braid. “The prince went back and stabbed the mean old king! Just like how you do, Auntie Ollie!”
…***…Princes and knights from fairy stories told to keep little girls from understanding the harshness of reality, were not supposed to come riding to the rescue years too late to be any help at all. Princes were figments of various fits of imagination pried from the only woman who cared about the Spiders. Princes and knights were supposed to be fake. Moments of weakness. Something to make the night seem a little less scary.Besides, bedtime stories and stakeout tales were meant to combat boredom and keep little girls from bringing down the wrath of the Red Room onto the occupants. Fairy tales and ‘rules of the court’ were not meant to be real. Natasha’s belief in such things died the same day Rita’s neck had been snapped during training. Little girls believed in rescues and love, and Natasha had not been a little girl in a long time. Hell, she hadn’t truly been young since the moment she threw a wooden block at the hip of a terrifying woman in black.This…this just couldn’t be real.An alien prince, straight out of Ollie’s whispered tales, half forgotten between sessions with the chair and Natasha’s own childish fears, had just walked out of a forest, while standing next to a tinman and two somewhat time traveling super-soldiers, and declared that Natasha’s aunt had been within comm reach this entire time. Or, at least, had been within comm reach for the past few hours.That clearance Director Carter had been harping Fury for? Natasha was going to get it. One way, or another. Because this? This entire situation? Was never, ever, going to happen again.“You.” Natasha pointed at the prince. “On the quinjet. Don’t let Loki go.” Turning, she snapped a finger towards her uncles. “You two. Get on the plane and start talking.”For a moment, it looked as if Uncle Yasha was about to say something, but Natasha didn’t wait around to find out what. Turning on her heel, Natasha marched back into the quinjet, her hands shaking. Tony, she knew, would follow Uncle Steve without a thought, drawn into the chaos with something akin to childish glee.There was a burning anger coursing through her veins and for the first time in nearly two decades, she let the anger boil. Her temper was too close to the surface, had been since she heard the name Geist, but this was something else entirely. Someone had to have known that Geist was still around. Someone had to have figured this all out.(They were spies, and if this had been any other situation, Natasha would have been in awe. It was hard to fool her, even harder to fool her, Clint, and Coulson. This was a cover up decades in the making and Natasha of all people should have seen this coming. She was from a cover up herself. Her job was to make sure certain people and certain things disappeared without a trace. This was her job. She had had all the puzzle pieces. Had all the knowledge.And she hadn’t seen a thing.She hadn’t even noticed.She hadn’t paid attention.She didn’t know which one was worse.)She wouldn’t go after Ollie.She couldn’t go after Ollie.(Are you bored or are you desperate?)Natasha was angry.Natasha was angry and bad things (understatement little Spider) always happened when she was angry. She wasn’t bored and she certainly was distraught enough to consider herself desperate. But Natasha was angry.She had an impossible decision.Find Clint or find Ollie.Find Clint.…***…
“What are you doing stealing from the Ringmaster’s safe?”

Frozen in the gloom of the tent, Natasha allowed herself to curse softly even as she turned to stand, her long red hair flicking enticingly over her shoulder. Over here, in America, boys seemed to like the red. Seemed to like how it stood out in a crowd. How it marked her as ‘dainty’ and ‘exotic’.

If Natasha could have spit in their faces, she would have.

“Just looking around.” Natasha lied, mentally wincing at the shoddy attempt of a lie. She could have given a better excuse in her sleep!

“In the Ringmaster’s safe?” A boy stepped into the tent, leading with an arrow aimed straight towards Natasha’s eye.

Natasha shot a quick look towards the, admittedly, empty safe. “Next was in the desk drawer.” She admitted with a small smile, hoping to throw the boy for a loop.

The boy rolled his eyes even as he brought the bow down to his side, replacing the arrow in his quiver as he jumped over the desk and flipped over the chair, revealing a rather thick envelope. “The Ringmaster prefers jewels, so he shouldn’t notice this missing for at least a couple days.” He held out the envelope, a small smirk crossing over his face.

“In return?” Natasha asked, not willing to grab the envelope quiet yet. She could take him. It wouldn’t be hard. All she had to do was kick a foot forward, slam a hand into the back of his head, bash his face into the desk, and if she wanted to kill or at least seriously maim, she could borrow one of the boy’s lovely arrows.

It wouldn’t be hard.

Yet…

“Take me with you.” The boy slammed the envelope into her chest, his eyes narrowing behind purple sunglasses. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Take me with you.”

“Got a name, Pretty Boy?” she crooned, her fingers twisting into his wrist, curious to see how he would react to her stepping into his personal space.

The boy barely even winced, his sleeve riding up to show blue and greens wrapping around his arm, hiding beside red welts. “Trickshot.”

Natasha hummed, her grip becoming a little more gentle. “Spider.”
…***…Find Ollie.…***…
“If you ever find something more then this. You leave me. Got it?” Ollie hissed, her eyes a bit wild as Natasha did her best to hold her down.

There was blood. Natasha didn’t know how much of it was her own and she didn’t know how much of it was Ollie’s. The mission had gone wrong. Not the ‘Ollie made sure it went sideways’ verity, but the ‘someone fucked up in intel’ verity. There hadn’t been one guard stationed at the front door. There had been ten. Three snipers on the roof, four men at the front door, two stationed to shoot through the basement windows, and one man to stand behind them and shoot them all in the back.

The mission had been completed anyway. Natasha still wasn’t sure how. One moment she had been stepping out of the car to flirt with a guard, the next she had been forced to the ground and Ollie had been yelling and god knew what else had happened.

Then there was just Natasha and Ollie, waiting for the pickup.

“Of course.” Natasha soothed; her hands steady as she pressed down on Ollie’s bleeding shoulder. She just had to wait. She just had to wait until the pickup.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess in the first place. I should have just left. I should have just walked away and let someone else find you.” Ollie gasped, her eyes drifting to the side.

Natasha swallowed. This was bad. This was very bad. Ollie had lost too much blood. Even a super-soldier couldn’t withstand this much trauma. “I…”

“Step away from the Ghost, little girl.”

Natasha’s hands tightened on Ollie’s shoulder once, before she stepped away with far more grace then the situation called for. “Sir,” she began, her eyes still glued to the blood weeping from Ollie’s joint, “there was…”

“Was the mission completed?” The Handler snarled, his hand snaking out to haul Ollie to her feet, shaking her roughly when Ollie’s knees buckled.

“Yes.” Natasha nearly shouted, her fingers twitching to stop the asshole from killing Ollie.

Ollie’s eyes flickered, her head tilting slightly. “Punk?” She breathed, her eyes lighting up under the glaze of pain.

Natasha just about screamed.
…***…Damn everything to hell.Natasha would just have to get them both back.Nothing else would be acceptable.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You are damn lucky my sister doesn’t go anywhere without her notebook, Uncle Banner.”<Olivia?>For a moment, Bruce considered banging his head against the desk. Of course, Leo couldn’t have just sent the notes along via email or text. No. He had to bring them personally. And, of course, Hulk wouldn’t stay quiet when little Olivia was mentioned. Flexing his fingers, Bruce leaned back from the desk, wincing slightly as his spine popped at the movement. He really should start moving around more, god knew it helped Olivia work through the math problems Bruce used to give her to keep her busy.Grimacing, Bruce took the boy’s offered hand and hauled himself up to his feet, ignoring Hulk’s mental pokes as best he could.“Your sister is up for a visit?” he absently asked, already half burying his nose in the notebook Leo had handed him. Olivia had better penmanship then most scientists Bruce new personally, even though half of the scrawls were in bright pink crayon. Dropping the notebook onto the desk, Bruce scrambled around for a scrape piece of paper and began diligently copying Olivia’s notes into something more legible.Leo hummed as he dropped down onto the seat next to Bruce, his long legs kicking up onto the desk as he pulled the keyboard towards him and minimized Bruce’s calculator. “Yeah well, I got the scholarship, so Mum wanted to poke her nose into my ‘financial security’ again. For some reason she thought we wouldn’t argue if Ollie was there.”“Have you argued?” Bruce asked, leaving aside the notebook for a moment. “And do I even want to know how you got on to SHEILD headquarters?”Bruce watched with a growing sense of horrified awe that most of the Bakker missions left him with, as Leo smirked. “Dad’s old activation code was never dismantled, and Ollie had very sticky fingers when she was a toddler. Its not my fault that I memorized the codes.”“You,” Bruce growled, his finger twitching as he pointed at Leo, “are going to end up in jail one of these days.”“Give me more credit than that, Uncle Banner.” Leo chided as he pulled Bruce’s calculator back up onto the screen and placed the keyboard back on the desk. “Boss-man told me to get here with some extra parts.” Leo nodded to a bag Bruce hadn’t noticed him place by the front door even as he tapped a plastic lanyard on his hip. “And I’ve got a guest pass. Its not like I broke into the place.”Bruce leaned back, his hands dragging down over his face in resignation. “Thank god for small mercies.”Dealing with Leo was always an exercise in patience. The boy liked to talk circles around anyone and everyone, often managing to talk for hours without having said a damn thing. Most days, Bruce was grudgingly impressed, however, today was not one of them.Then Bruce realized what Leo had said. “Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, is working with SHIELD?”“Its probably better to say that Ironman is working with SHIELD, but honestly,” Leo gave a crooked grin, looking so much like his little sister that Bruce’s chest ached, “most days, same difference.”<Olivia? Olivia. Olivia. Olivia.>Groaning, Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Hulk had been almost too quiet recently, so it wasn’t too difficult to think that maybe he should have seen this coming.“Do you know when the boss is going to be back?” Leo asked, his fingers tapping on his knees. “I'd rather get going if it was all the same to you.”Bruce forced himself to look up and stay away from Olivia's notes. “How fast can he fly back from,” he took a moment to look over at the memo an Agent had dropped off when word had come in on a sighting of the current mania driven villain SHIELD was attempting to track now, “Germany?”Leo's mouth twisted into a frown. “Slower than he would like.” Came the dry response.Bruce decided it wasn’t worth commenting on that. Standing, he shook his head even as he grabbed Olivia's notebook. It would be easier to type and edit then it would be to rewrite the entire ramblings of an eight-year-old. Her math was solid, but she hadn’t quiet figured out some of the theory Bruce had been attempting to teach her back before he left. Honestly, he was proud she had retained this much. “Pass me a pen, would you?”…***…“And I keep telling you. I didn’t know!” Came shouting through the door.Olivia’s notebook hit the ground even as Bruce spun on his heel, one hand stretched out to haul Leo back behind him. SHEILD had promised safety. SHIELD had promised silence. SHIELD had promised a guard. SHIELD had promised lots of things.Apparently, they had lied.The door slammed open with a bang. The wall near shuddering under the impact. Bruce was already moving. He shouldn’t have come. He should have stayed back in India. He had patients and an estate to help reestablish. He should have listened to Hulk’s annoyed grumbling. He should have paid attention.“Peggy.”“That's Mrs. Carter to you.” Peggy Carter, the first Director and Founder of SHIELD, snapped over her shoulder at Director Fury.Bruce near tripped over a chair in his haste to skid to a stop.He was used to odd. Was used to the way Bakker kids would scramble through walls, chatter to animals, shapeshifting to mimic their teachers, manipulate the elements, or even just cause general chaos even without mutations thrown in. By now, Bruce could say he wasn’t surprised by much. However, by no means was he expecting Peggy Carter to walk through his lab door.Correction.By no means was he expecting Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos, minus a few members, to march into his lab while holding a somewhat civil argument with the current Director of SHIELD.“What?” Bruce managed to squeak, thanking his lucky stars Leo and the other runts had put him through his paces as a teacher. Bruce might still be able to startle, but it hardly was ever bad enough to make Hulk come out to play.In the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Leo slump down into a chair with his head in his hands. Bruce couldn’t blame him.“There is an agent using the name Geist, Nicholas.” Mrs. Carter grit out. “That name was retired for a reason.”Well, it was no wonder Bruce's appointed guard hadn’t stopped this interruption. Bruce wasn’t sure the appearance of Hulk would have been able to interrupt this conversation. Hulk in a giant pink tutu wouldn’t have been able to stop this conversation. Bruce rubbed at his eyes again. Dear lord he was tired if that was the imagery that was popping to mind, although, that begged the question of what exactly Olivia had convinced Hulk to do.”You know, its been awhile since I’ve seen Carter get that heated.”Bruce pulled his head out of his hand and took a glance sideways. “Is that even good for her blood pressure?” Immediately, Bruce put his head back in his hands and let out a muffled apology. Oh god, he really was tired. Usually he wasn’t this suicidal.Timothy Dugan let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t mention that to Carter in her hearing, she might decide that SHIELD could deal with one less scientist.”Bruce groaned into his hands as he heard the Howling Commandos step into place around him and Leo. Back when Bruce was a little younger, much more foolish, and begging for the grants needed to pull off a miracle or two, Betty had forced him to read nearly everything there was on Captain Rogers, including the Howling Commandos. For all that Betty was his lab assistant, the woman (and Bruce) could probably have written a thesis or two on the group by the time her research sensibilities had been calmed.A regular book dragon she was, and at this point, Bruce had the faces of the Howling Commandos burned into the back of his eyelids. Betty had wanted to go see one of their talks back before the accident and even now Bruce couldn’t think of the Howling Commandos without thinking of Betty ranting about one of their horrible reporting skills while holding a glass of wine and waving a file around in the air.“I’m not SHIELD.” Bruce admitted, desperate to take his mind off Betty and the last memory he had of her running through the lab.“Ah,” Dugan muttered, “figures Peggs couldn’t get us in the right room. Its all that new-fangled technology you know?”Looking between his fingers, Bruce couldn’t help but think that the Howling Commandos and ex-director (he really had to figure out what the proper term for her was) were exactly where they wanted to be.“Of course.” Bruce hissed as he slipped backwards a touch. If this situation went anymore sideways, he was taking Leo and getting as far away from the shit show that was SHEILD, damn the consequences.“Auntie Peggy, I’m home!”The door slammed open again, and Bruce jumped about a foot in the air, his hand flying to his heart as he let out a sharp curse. Andy was going to get a lighter and matches on the sly for the training he inadvertently put Bruce through.“Wasn’t this conference room A?” Stark whined as he stared at the now silent room. Looking over at the door he had just thrown open, Stark lifted an eyebrow over the top of his tinted sunglasses. “Yup, conference room A. You would think there would food.”“Anthony Edward Stark, now is not the time for your dramatics.” Ms. Carter snapped, her lips white with anger as she continued to stare at the Director.Beside Bruce, Dugan swore. “When the fuck did Tony inherit the Stark dramatics?”Somewhere behind the gaggle of people came a quick, “May 9th, 1970. The boy was born early.”There was, Bruce thought, a fine line between humour and insanity. To be fair, they might have passed it a few hours ago.“Did you actually come here on Stark’s request?” Bruce hissed over his shoulder at Leo.The boy slid closer to his back. “Stop moving.” He snapped quietly.The migraine that had been hovering over his shoulder for the past few hours slipped closer.Agent Romanoff, the shield agent that had shown Bruce to the lab (maybe conference room? In retrospect that made sense considering how some of the equipment was cobbled together) pushed her way into the lab. Her hair had been tied back and Bruce was about two seconds away from ducking under the table when she shoved her way between the arguing directors, her hands grabbing onto Director Fury’s coat as she hauled him down to her level.Bruce knew that look, had seen it on Betty’s face more than once when her father had over-stepped.Maybe it was time to leave.“Did you know?” Romanoff hissed; her knuckles white as she twisted her hands further into his jacket. “Did you know that Babushka was in STRIKE?”Oh yes, Bruce thought as he took another step backwards and herded Leo further away from the volatile agent, it was definitely time to leave.Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes stepped into the room, patting Stark on the shoulder as they shuffled past him. “I thought Ollie was undercover?” The Captain asked, his head tilting to the side as Ms. Carter spun around to face him, her hands coming up to her mouth as she paled.Bruce stumbled as Leo suddenly stood shock still. Thankfully, the Howling Commandos seemed more fixated on the way the Captain seemed to grow in the corner of the room, his anger seeming to make him loom. Readjusting his path, Bruce shoved Leo back again, growling under his breath as Leo jabbed his lower back with a softly hissed “stop it.”“I’m going to take that as a no.” Captain Rogers growled, his hand coming down heavy on Sargent Barnes’ shoulder, forcing him into a seat.For a moment, Bruce swore that he could have heard a pin drop, and it was in a distant kind of way that Bruce wondered what could have happened to make the Sargent so pale and shaky. Considering the circumstances, the Captain and Sargent had seemed remarkably well adjusted to the modern world, for the Sargent to seem so shell-shocked…Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to meet whatever stalked the poor boy’s nightmares.“Oliver’s dead.” Dugan whispered as he stepped forward, his hands shaking slightly as he grabbed onto Ms. Carter’s arm, supporting her even as his own frame shook. “Oliver Bakker died falling from a train. We watched him die.”For a moment, the world tilted out of focus and Olivia’s pink notebook, half tucked under the table from where it had fallen, taunted Bruce as his breath stalled. Olivia couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be. Leo wouldn’t be this calm if his sister had been reported kidnapped and killed. Leo wouldn’t have answered Bruce’s summons if Olivia had been killed.Leo.Oh god.Leo was here.Bruce’s hand shot out behind him and gripped Leo’s arm. Leo couldn’t walk out and draw attention to himself. Jacob would never forgive Bruce if he managed to get Leo shot on the Helicarrier.Leo’s hand gripped his wrist. “Oliver. Not Olivia.” He hissed as he came out to stand beside Bruce. “My sister was with our Uncle John today, Mum wanted to go shopping.”The ringing in Bruce’s ears seemed to slow. “Are you sure?”Leo gave a cocky little grin even as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Trust me. I had to listen to her excited little yaps all yesterday when she got the tickets to this morning’s conference.”Dragging a hand down his face, Bruce forced himself to look back at the source of the rising tension in the room. If Leo thought it safe enough to step out from behind his back, Bruce wasn’t about to stop him. The boy was old enough to know better and at least now Bruce could tell Jacob that Leo had made his own decision.Stark didn’t seem to notice his asstant standing in the corner of the room and considering the sheer anger that had settled onto the man’s face, Bruce was ok with Leo being overlooked.“Did you?” Stark asked as he stepped further into the lab. “Did you actually watch him die?”Bruce sucked in a breath, his eyes flicking over to Leo. Dead? Oliver Bakker, the American Agent that had haunted more Bakker circles than most heirs, dead? Leo’s Opa had been looking for the boy since he had first come to Canada, it was doubtful Oliver had managed to finally die. Besides, there was the whole situation with Oliver being Bruce’s first contact with the Bakkers.No.Oliver wasn’t dead.That man was worse than a freaking penny if Bakker reports were to be believed.“Ollie fell.” Sargent Barnes rasped; his head bowed. “Ollie tumbled through the air and I watched Ollie through my scope.”From the way Leo’s eyebrows rose, Bruce assumed that was news to him as well.“But did Uncle Ollie die?” Stark pressed, his arms crossing as he stared at the crowd. “Cause I don’t think he did.”Leo’s jaw tightened, even as his gaze flicked between the Captain and the Sargent, his hands dropping from his chest as he ticked his fingers up and down. “No.” He whispered, his eyes opening in disbelief. “No way.”Leo’s phone was out of his pocket and Bruce watched as the boy hurriedly flipped through file after file, pausing at a grainy image of the Sargent, passed out on a bed. Beside the prone form, was a blur of a person Bruce assumed was Oliver, half tipped over the edge of the bed, caught mid attempt to stand.“Holy shit, it’s Uncle Yasha and Steven.” Leo whispered, his eyes wide as he took a quick glance between the image and the Sargent half folded over in a chair. “Ollie’s never gonna believe this.”“Ollie fell.” Ms. Carter’s words were curt, tapered into a thin razor that pressed into more than one throat.Bruce gulped at the way everyone seemed to shy away from the woman. “Maybe you should put that away.” He murmured.“You called me, Auntie Peggy.” Stark pointed out with a frown.Ms. Carter looked away.Leo slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Maybe I should call Opa.” He said as he side-eyed Bruce, still looking a bit shocked at the by-play happening in front of them. Bruce shrugged. Hendricus would probably like an update but Bruce wasn’t willing to try and call right at this very moment, not when he was nicely tucked away in a corner and learning more about the missing Bakker then anyone had managed to find out in decades.Personally, Bruce wasn’t sure anyone was even aware he and Leo were still there.“Ollie Bakker was on that quinjet.” Romanoff snarled into the silence. “Ollie Bakker was that STRIKE agent.” She hauled the Director closer. “Tell me you didn’t know.”Slowly, Bruce raised a hand up into the air, suddenly feeling like a little boy hauled up in front of the principle and teachers after shoving a toad down Susie Blackwell’s shirt. “Can I ask what the hell is going on?” He mused, his voice just loud enough to break through the tension raising steadily in the room.Director Fury zeroed in on him. “If you could just calm down, Doctor.” He ordered, somehow not wincing when his agent hauled him closer.For a moment, Bruce allowed himself to chuckle at the irony of him being ordered to calm down, even as the rest of the room looked ready to fall into an all-out brawl. “Oh, I’m calm.” Bruce drawled as he leaned against the counter, keeping Leo firmly behind him. “I just want to know why we’re debating the apparent death of our cousin.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There were over sixty-six years worth of secrets packed into the room, and for all the things Peggy had expected to hear when the inevitable finally came about, the word ‘cousin’ was not on that list.“To be completely honest,” Dugan murmured into her curls, his fingers clenching onto her wrist with such strength she had to wonder for a moment who was supporting who, “I thought Ollie made her name up.”The doctor and the technician stared at the assembled room, anger clear across their faces and for a split second, Peggy could see it. She could see Ollie standing beside the doctor and his assistant, her arms crossed over her stomach as the room fell into squabbling, her nose wrinkled in distaste. She could see Ollie, grey around the temples like she had never been in life, hands callused and worn, clicking her tongue and cuffing the doctor around the head for disrespect.Peggy could see the scene so clearly.Peggy leaned onto Dugan’s shoulder, old guilt eating a hole into her ribs. “I thought the same.” She admitted softly, her free hand patting Dugan’s wrist. The SSR hadn’t been able to sus out Ollie back before she was Peggy’s assistant, no one had. And oh, Howard had tried. For all that he had grinned and claimed that having a spy with no papers was spooky, there had been a war on, and Ollie had been at the height of suspicious circumstances.There were no papers, nothing to document her arrival in New York. She had no birth records. No sacraments done at the local church. And no record of her at the hospital either. If it weren’t for the docks and the library, Peggy would have sworn the girl had just appeared in Howard’s office one evening, as witty and charming as the old man himself.But…Cousin?Peggy had thought the underground had been giving Ollie false hope all those years ago. Everyone knew you couldn’t believe what you heard in those days. Ollie had never seemed overly excited about finding the Bakkers in the Underground and Peggy had always assumed they all knew the family had been lying through their teeth.The young man took a step forward, his eyes hard and his face twitching as he stared down both Peggy and Nicholas. “My name is Leo Bakker.”Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ollie raised her head with a soft smile. Oh, come now Peggy! Darling, my name is Ollie Bakker! The last of the Bakker heirs in this neck of the woods. No one is going to yell at you for sending me out to clear a path. Least of all Leo!Peggy had been teaching Ollie how to dance that night. How to follow the lead of a man, or at least, how to make it seem like the man was leading. Ollie had made a terrible woman. She hadn’t known how to apply makeup, how to wear any type of hosiery, nor could she walk in anything higher than a kitten heel. Peggy had had less then a fortnight to teach Ollie how to walk a woman, act like a woman, and speak like a woman. It hadn’t gone well.By the second night Howard had been called in.In some ways, Peggy had always wondered what would have happened if Ollie had ever had to do her job in full daylight. Even if Peggy had a lifetime, Ollie would never have been able to drop the habits she had picked up from Brooklyn. On the few nights where Ollie had managed to get Howard rip roaringly drunk, Howard had managed to pass Peggy’s ‘feminine wiles’ exam looking perfectly sober. Ollie had fallen giggling backwards over Peggy’s cot, the crystal shot glass held straight up into the air.Sixty-six years later, Peggy stood in a conference room with Ollie’s godson staring a hole into the side of her head, while Ollie’s cousins, cousins who actually acknowledged Ollie’s existence, dared her to admit to sending Ollie to her death.That wasn’t to mention the age old guilt of realizing Ollie had had more then a one percent chance of walking out of the Alps and both she and Howard had given up on her. To make it worse, Peggy had given up on Ollie twice, once in the Alps and once when Natasha had told her Ollie had died for the final time.(Peggy should have questioned. She should have. Had their positions been reversed Ollie wouldn’t have stopped until Peggy had been laid to rest with full honours. Peggy should have kept looking. Peggy should have kept looking.)In any other circumstances, it would have been funny to note the way Bucky suddenly jolted, his hand hitting the top of the counter as he slipped. “Leo?” Bucky rasped, his eyes still a bit wild.As it was, Peggy found herself clasping onto the silver ring strung around her neck. You couldn’t know Ollie and not hear about her older brother at some point. She had always been so proud of him, of how he had gone off with her to try and find a better life.Oddly enough though, Ollie had never said what had happened to him, aside from looking down into the bottom of her glass and admitting that he was gone.Peggy had never pushed for more information. There had never been a good moment, never been enough time. They had been in the middle of a war, and Peggy had already had enough guilt on her conscience without dragging up painful memories. The first real mission she had sent Ollie on had ended with the girl staying in a Hydra cell. The last mission had ended with her death. Asking about a family that Ollie had never seemed to keen on finding hadn’t seemed like a good idea at the time, not when the girl was dodging bullets and attempting to focus on landing the long shot.Beside Bucky, Steve took a good long look at Leo, his head tilting slightly as he glanced slowly from the boy back to his husband. “You know, from the back, you two really do look the same.” Steve mused just quietly enough Peggy had to wonder if he had meant for her to hear him at all.With the silence broken, Tony seemed to find it a reasonable time to step forward, a righteous fury burning in his eyes so much like his father. “Leo? Did you bring what I asked for?”Leo nodded to a briefcase by the door. “Ms. Potts told me to bring that.”It might have been Tony’s voice, or even the horrid gaunt paleness to his cheeks that made Peggy step forward. Dugan’s arm fell off her wrist and not for the first time in her life, Peggy had to remind herself there was no reason to hide. She had no time, no need, to duck her head and let others ask the questions for her.If Peggy didn’t ask, the questions would forever remain unanswered, and Peggy wasn’t sure she could take the phantom hand tugging at her curls while an exasperated voice whispered through her ears. She couldn’t take another decade with Ollie’s ring burning a whole into her heart.“Anthony. Did Ollie live?”Maybe she should have accepted Steve’s bombshell of a statement as proof enough, but the Starks had never lied to her. Steve was her friend, yes, but they had known each other during a war and most of their friendship had been built on the words classified and I can’t answer that. It was a sad truth that Peggy had learned more about Steve and Bucky in the past few months then she had the entire time during the war.So, yes. Steve was her friend, but Tony was her godson. He didn’t have the luxury to hide behind files and secrets.To the side, little Natasha dropped Nicholas and turned towards Tony with steady hands and a twitching eye. Of all the people here, Peggy thought, Natasha had the most at stake.Tony, with all the flare and grace his father had spent years mastering, turned and flicked a few fingers over what Peggy vaguely recognized as Stark technology. “With your leave Dr. Banner?”The doctor raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at being asked anything at all. “As long as you keep the program running in the background, I don’t see why not?”Tony gave a quick nod, his expression set in that mulish look Peggy fondly remembered him making whenever Edwin had told him to put the cookies back or so help him god.“When I was a kid, dear old dad sent me to this stupid boarding school,” Tony said, falling into the same type of lecturing his father had done all through Peggy’s long career, “and there was this teacher who thought she was smart and had all of us kids make a family tree.”Ah yes, Miss Duglass. Peggy remembered her. She had been fired over that project if Peggy remembered correctly.Tony flicked his hand and the Stark brand of 3D imagery appeared over the table, a bunch of files flitting up into the air. “Of course, most couldn’t because, you know, born on the wrong side of the sheets and all that, but when I made mine, I asked dad about my Uncle Ollie.”The room seemed to hold its collective breath as Tony paused, his hand hovering over one file Peggy had never seen before. Of course, that wasn’t saying much considering the vaults upon vaults the Starks had of plans and ideas, but Peggy had always prided herself on keeping tabs on Tony’s achievements. The boy had always been so smart, and it was brilliant watching him build something out of nothing, that wicked smile darting across a workshop as Tony ‘fixed it! I fixed it Aunt Peggy! Isn’t it awesome?’That smile wasn’t there now.If only they could go back to when Peggy could fix everything with a hug and a cookie.“And dad told me stories. Except, that wasn’t enough.” Tony flicked his fingers up and out, sending the hologram flying across the room. Images, papers, videos, lab reports, it was all there. “So, I started the Panadora Project. Few years later when I reached college and I was working on JARVIS, I asked a very stupid question and got a rather excellent answer. Does anyone want to guess what that answer was?”If anyone answered, Peggy didn’t hear. Over Tony’s shoulder was a video. The sound was off, and Peggy wasn’t sure if that made the situation better or worse. Near sixty some odd years ago, Peggy had to transcribe Ollie’s interrogation from the recording in Zola’s briefcase. Now, she stood beside Dumdum and wondered if she had ever left that room.Olivia Bakker was tied to a chair. Olivia Bakker, long hair braided back over her shoulder, had wires tapped to her skull, needles in her arm, and worst of all…The absolute worst thing of all…She wasn’t fighting it.“Dumdum.” Peggy’s breath hitched, her hand going out to scramble for Dugan’s sleeve. Peggy knew the odds. Knew that you couldn’t stay in enemy territory forever without cracking. Knew that there was a window of time where you could salvage a situation. Peggy was the ex-director of SHIELD, she had sent more spies to their deaths then she could ever hope to count. This wasn’t the first torture Peggy had seen but this…Dugan’s fingers weaved through her own. “Pegs. They took her fucking arm.”And oh, Peggy had never been a religious woman. She had always thought that praying in the fox holes or counting beads while sitting beside the mission phone was for people who hadn’t planned well enough or trusted their people to do what needed to be done.Peggy had been raised by a woman who had drummed into her head ‘you do what needs to be done’. And Peggy had. Peggy had slaved and worked and ran herself into the ground, but Peggy had never been religious. There had never truly been time to think of religion aside from watching other people bend over rosaries and the like.Peggy had never been religious, but dear lord, this had to be hell.Dragging her eyes away from the looping video, Peggy looked over to another image. There Ollie lay, bound to a table, still in her gear from the Alps. Her jacket was in tatters and her arm was gone.“This is prisoner 214781.” Tony said, his voice breaking through the haze around Peggy’s thoughts. “She was assumed to be an American spy. There was no record of her name and all Hydra ever called her was Ghost or Geist.”Peggy’s fingers tangled in the chain of her necklace.“She was the only successful attempt at recreating the super soldier serum. From what I’ve found, she bounced from project to project, sold like a piece of interesting tech between departments. 214781’s greatest success was with…”“The Red Room.” Natasha broke in, her gaze stuck on something over Peggy’s shoulder. “We called her Babushka when the Matrons weren’t around.”Peggy wasn’t sure she could look over her shoulder to see what had caught Natasha’s eye. Wasn’t sure she had the bravery to witness whatever had put that little smile on Natasha’s lips.“Soldier was good at what she did. She was given little orphaned girls and ordered to make them into weapons. She taught us to fight and kill with anything and everything we could get our hands on. Fighting fair was for dead girls, she used to tell us. Fighting fair was for dead girls and dead artists. She taught little girls how to steal freedom all while bowing under a knife. If it weren’t for that…” Natasha’s soft look twisted into something Peggy didn’t want to name, not when they were talking about Ollie, “if it weren’t for that chair scrambling her brains until she was nothing but numbers and codes, we would have been able to over throw that program in a fortnight.”The room was silent as Natasha’s words sunk in.“How many made it out?” Steve asked, his face white as he stared at Natasha.Peggy closed her eyes.“I did.” Natasha said calmly.This had to be hell.“We left Ollie to die.” Peggy whispered, her head craning back so she could look up to the ceiling without staring at the images. She had told Howard for years that he hadn’t had to do penance, but this, this was so much worse than anything Howard had done.Tony had over twenty years to put this together. Twenty years worth of research that showed one damning thing over and over.Ollie had lived.There was no denying it anymore.“You did.” Tony agreed. “But you couldn’t have known. I’ve seen Dad’s math and looked over the mission details myself. Ollie shouldn’t have lived.”Peggy let out a heavy breath, taking solace in the fact Tony wasn’t pulling his punches. With the Starks, you always knew when things were bad. They became nice.“Ollie isn’t undercover then.”Peggy’s head snapped over towards Steve and Bucky, who were both sitting at the counter. For the first time since they had woken up, Steve looked utterly devastated. His head was down between his hands and in a surprising turn of events, Bucky looked settled. Oh, there was still the haze of grief hanging about his head, but this was the man Peggy knew.This was the man that had jumped into the back of a jeep and given her a roguish smile as he threw Ollie off the side of the jeep, sending him tumbling onto the ground in a heap. This was the man who joked through the war and disappeared into the bell towers and trees to do the impossible.This was Sargent James Barnes.Peggy had missed him.“How do we get him back?”In any other situation, Peggy would have giggled at the utterly flummoxed expression on Tony’s face. “Well, it would be helpful to know where he went.” Tony blustered, as he dragged the images back into the file and instead pulled up a rotating globe.“Stop.” Nicholas demanded. Peggy started, honestly having forgotten the man was there. “While I applaud the attempt to recover missing agents, even old ones, I have over thirty good men and women missing and being coerced into helping the enemy. My priority is getting them back safely. And, since you are currently on SHIELD property…”Tony flapped a hand. Dismissing the man with a roll of his eyes. “Already on it. Loki’s currently in the med bay being guarded by his brother. Apparently, the poor guy had been ‘magicked’ by the same thing that hit your agents. Which, by the way, my uncle took off with. So, considering my Uncle, who everyone in this room agrees was taken as a prisoner of war and had a blender go through their brain, is currently MIA with the most powerful weapon ever. I’d like to know what the hell STRIKE has been planning, Nick.”Nicholas stared at Tony with a look of long-suffering pain. Any sympathy Peggy might have felt after near seventy years of working along side Howard, died a quick death at the expression of devastation on Steve’s face. “You mean to tell me, Loki. The man who blew up my warehouse and research facility, while taking over half of my best agents, is in my med bay and you didn’t find any time to inform me of this?”“What do you mean Ollie was in STRIKE? And what do you mean by, Ollie is not here?” Peggy bit out, the realization that Ollie wasn’t hiding somewhere else on the hellicarrier sinking down her back like ice.“Ollie captured Loki, was then captured by Loki’s brother, who then was captured by us. And somewhere in the middle of this, Ollie took down Loki with a rock and booked it with the staff that apparently had similar powers to the cosmic cube during the war.” Bucky put in. “If it makes you feel any better director, we think Loki’s gonna need stitches for that. He started to bleed on the way back.”Peggy squeezed Dugan’s fingers.“Aw, come on Pegs. You know all the good things happen all at once.” He whispered as he stepped closer to her, his chin coming to rest on top of her head. “And by good, I definitely mean bad, but really? Is there any difference? We’re gonna get Ollie back and Susa is finally going to met them.”Maybe in another world Peggy would have taken comfort in Dugan’s actions and words. But in this one, Peggy had raised SHEILD up from nothing. Peggy had grown up being told that little girls didn’t play in the mud and then she ran off to a war. Peggy had fought and bled for this world to remain safe against enemies every other world government had denied taken root in their border. Peggy had worked until she could no long meet the requirements for a field agent and then, still years later, she had a gun in her knitting basket and her fingers still stank of oil and steel.Peggy slept with Ollie’s knife under her pillow, Ollie’s ring around her neck, Susa’s promise engraved in gold on her finger, and with the knowledge at least Hydra could never take root in the agency she had built from the ruins of corruption and fear.Giving Dugan’s fingers one last squeeze, Peggy stepped out from his loose embrace and set her shoulders. In the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky and Steve staring at Tony much like they used to gaze at his father, with desperation and hope for a miracle. With the Howling Commandos at her back, the Captain and Sargent to her right, and Ollie’s family huddling in the corner, staring at the scene with wide eyes, Peggy set her shoulders and dragged up the old anger that had fueled her through one physical war, and several cold ones.“Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes. Was SSR Agent Oliver Bakker on your previous mission?” Peggy demanded. The tension in the room snapped its attention towards Peggy. But Peggy had handled worse missions with higher stakes before.“Yes Ma’am!” They replied in unison.Grim, Peggy turned towards Natasha, forcing herself not to flinch at the mask that had settled over the woman’s face. “Ollie Bakker is a confirmed Hydra Agent?”Natasha nodded, her hands fisting at her sides. “Yes, Director Carter.”Peggy nodded once before turning on her heel and staring at Nicholas. “When you took this post, you swore an oath to hold the line against all threats, foreign and domestic. I also remember expressly ordering you to continue to stamp out Hydra pockets should you find them. Now, today, I learn that you have allowed an infiltration into SHIELD, compromising hundreds of thousands of missions, agents, and treaties.”Peggy should have brought Nicholas into another room to have this conversation. She didn’t believe in public humiliation and she truly had no right to bring Nicholas to task, not anymore. She had been retired too long for her to interfere in SHIELD missions any longer, but this was Hydra.This was Hydra. These were the monsters that had stalked Peggy’s nightmares since the first time Ollie had told her to look into the organization. These were the monsters that had ‘killed’ Steve and Bucky. These were the monsters that simply wouldn’t die. Cut off one head and two more shall take its place. Peggy had always aimed for the heart, but here it turned out she had missed.Nicholas had still under her gaze. His shoulders a straight line as he heaved in a breath. “Hydra did not infiltrate my organization. STRIKE was a program created by the World Council representative. They work in collaboration with SHEILD, but I have had agents internally investigating them since the first STRIKE team came back sans my SHEILD agent.”“Yeah well,” Tony snarled as he took a step forward, “Aunt Peggy managed to…”Peggy cleared her throat, her eyes never leaving Nicholas. “Director, do you have a handle on the situation?”Tony took a step back muttering under his breath.Nicholas remained silent and Peggy found herself nodding. “I do not presume to tell you how to run your organization. Lord knows I hated when others did it to me. However, I would advise in this circumstance to call the Second Labour.”Nicholas closed his eye for a long moment and Peggy gave the grave man a solemn smile. The Second Labour was a protocol Peggy had created and given to every high-ranking agent. The name was given in a fit of pique, stolen from the second labour of Hercules. The killing of the Hydra. The protocol had been created for the express purpose of exterminating moles, internal leaks, and mass infiltration.It had never been activated.“Find the SHIELD agents.” Nicholas ordered the doctor in the corner of the room. For a moment, nobody moved and Nicholas sighed before he looked back to Peggy with an unreadable expression. “Find all the SHEILD agents, even the one that was named posthumously.”Tony took a step forward. “I can help with that.” He offered, a cocky smile appearing on his face, at odds with the tension still present in the room. “If they’ve got a cellphone or any tech upgraded by Stark Enterprises, I can locate it.”Nicholas didn’t look overly impressed with that tidbit of information, but he didn’t argue. “Agent Romanov.”Natasha was already striding towards the door. “Interrogate Loki, got it.”Nicholas watched her go before turning and looking towards Peggy again. “I hope its worth it.”Peggy smiled and spread her hands apart with a shrug. “I am a simple old woman, Director. This is your show.”Nicholas smirked and shook his head as he began to walk towards the door. “Of course, Mrs. Carter.”The door to the conference room closed with a quiet click and Peggy fought the urge to fall into one of the chairs lining the side of the room. She was getting too old for political posturing and egos. Dugan stepped up to her side again and gave a low whistle. “Good show Pegs.”Peggy gave a rather unladylike snort. “It made it easier knowing my honour guard was here with me.”Behind her, the Howling Commandos gave a quick whoop before going over to the table where Steve and Bucky had taken their seats. If it weren’t for the wrinkles on the faces of the most of the men at that table, Peggy could have believed that they had managed to get a weekend of R&R at that little bombed out bar in England.“The team is back together Pegs.” Dugan whispered while giving her a smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever see it outside of the pearly gates.”Before Peggy could reply, Tony appeared at her elbow and steered her into the corner of the room with an apologetic nod to Dugan. “Auntie Peggy,” he began, and Peggy’s heart seized. Tony never called her auntie anymore. Hadn’t done it since she had straightened out his tie for Maria’s funeral. Whatever he was going to say, wasn’t going to be good.“Auntie Peggy, Loki’s brother, Thor, said Ollie had been off world with him. He identified her and mentioned you and dad by name.” Tony gave her a searching look, his face set into a beseeching expression. “Auntie Peggy. I think he was telling the truth. Uncle Ollie went off world. I think he managed to get away from Hydra for a while.”And oh, that hurt. On one hand Ollie had gotten away, on the other hand it obviously hadn’t been for long.“Was Ollie…” Peggy trailed off, not sure what she was trying to ask. Safe? Happy? Content?Tony reached out and awkwardly tugged on the edge of her curls, just as he had when he was a child and trying to comfort her when he walked in on her staring absently out the window. “He said Ollie was given a place of honour.”Right.Well then.Tony shuffled in place. “I wouldn’t ask, except I need to know for the search. Is Ollie a girl, a boy, or both? What am I looking for?”Of all the questions Peggy had been expecting Tony to ask her, this had not been one of them, but it wasn’t a question Peggy needed to think all that hard about. Leaning forward, Peggy planted a kiss on the side of her godson’s cheek. “You’re a good boy, Tony. I don’t think I asked Ollie what they were. Anyone who knew their real name, I think just assumed they were both.”Tony pulled away with a huff, one side of his face scrunched up as he rubbed at his cheek. “Miss Potts isn’t going to be happy if you’ve left lipstick on me.” He grumbled.Over his shoulder, Dr. Banner poked at the rotating globe. “Alright Ollie Bakker. Where the hell are you?”Overhead, a vent creaked.Tony looked up with a frown. “That’s never a good sound.”“No, Leo. I doubt Ollie went to China.” Dr. Banner snapped in exasperation. “Ollie didn’t seem to have the means to get quite that far.”The vents creaked again.Tony raised an eyebrow. “Ok.” He drawled as he reached over to pull out a chair and place it against the wall. “What the hell?”Peggy glanced up at the vent covering. “You don’t think there’s someone in there?” she hissed.The covering was tiny, only a child could have fit in that space and Peggy somehow doubted there was any children onboard the hellicarrier.Tony gave her an exasperated look as he fiddled with the covering. “You’re the spy Aunt Peggy. You tell me what you can hid in vents.”Well, when he put it like that.“Leo, stop fooling around. Either help me find Ollie or start transcribing the notes.” Dr. Banner said as he pressed a pink notebook into Leo’s chest.Over Tony’s head, the covering went flying to the ground and a blur of arms and legs fell out of the vent, slamming Tony off the chair and on to the ground. Shocked, Peggy just barely withheld the instinct to throw the nearest object at the vent gremlin when she realized the creature was a rather dusty little girl.The girl scrambled to her feet and beelined for Dr. Banner. “I’m here Uncle Banner! You don’t have to bother the scary agents to find me! I’m sorry I ran away!”For a moment, Peggy wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the girl’s appearance, Dr. Banner, Leo, the Howling Commandos, or Peggy herself.Leo threw himself up to his feet. “Olivia Divera Maria Bakker! What do you think you are doing?” He roared as he caught the little girl by the back of her mini suit jacket. “You were supposed to be with Uncle John.”The little girl kicked her legs out in protest, swiping at Leo with clenched fists. “Uncle Yohannan was boring! ‘Sides, SHEILD came for Uncle Steve and Yasha, I couldn’t let them be taken away.”Leo shook the girl slightly. “Olivia.” He growled. “Does anyone know you’re here?”Olivia pouted. “You do.”Peggy needed to sit down.There was only one Olivia Divera Maria Bakker and they were not pintsized. Beside her, Tony pulled himself to his feet. “I did honestly not see that coming.”Over at the table, Steve stood up, the sides of his mouth twitching. “Peggy,” he called, “I take it you didn’t pack anything that moved in the duffle you gave us.”The munchkin craned her head to look over at Steve. “Hi Uncle Steve!” she waved wildly as she swung from Leo’s fist, “Sorry about your shirts. I stuffed them in the janitor’s closet at the VA.”“Ollie.” Leo groaned, finally setting the girl down on her feet. “What did you do?”The girl grinned. “Nothing.”So much for this being one of the most secure places on the planet.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was easier to play the fool, Clint had learned. It was easier to play the obnoxious idiot who didn’t care about anything other then having a good time. It was easier. It was so much easier.No asked the idiot if they were alright.No one cared if the idiot had somehow missed most of the conversation.And best of all, everyone left the idiot alone.It was easy.Some days it was just easier to keep his head down and not have to flick his eyes about for every damn piece of movement and shift of a hand or mouth. It was easier to pretend he hadn't noticed someone's agitated snap of a hand or the gritting of their teeth. It was easier to pretend he was just stupid rather then always tracking, always watching, always straining to see. It was easier to say; 'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you' rather then saying 'you weren't looking at me so I couldn't see you speak.'It was easier to be an idiot but that didn’t mean that Clint was stupid. Clint was many things; tired, hungry, annoyed, frustrated, angry, but he wasn't stupid.If no one would explain anything then he would just have to find out for himself. If people wouldn't remember to look at him while they spoke, then he would just place himself in corners opposite to Nat, or in other cases, mirrors, and he would read. If people wouldn't slow down for him, then Clint would simply go above them. Rafters and vents meant blessed silence and height meant that actions literally spoke louder then words.If people wouldn't work with Clint, then he would simply work alone.If he had to work with people, then you could bet a year's pay that he was taking the high stakes missions or the sniper’s nest. The Director might be able to order him to work with others but at least he understood that if Clint was to work with people then it would be on missions where the other agents could only 'speak' in SHEILD sign or where Clint wouldn't have to speak to anyone at all.Coulson at least spoke to him, rather then at him. Hill always made sure all the important details were written down for him, even if it went against protocol. Debriefs always had paper and pencils ready to go for after the missions where Clint couldn't muster up the energy to try and figure out the volume he needed to project his voice past the tip of his nose or open his eyes long enough to track movement and string together the little audio he could catch and movement of the lips he could see.SHEILD wasn’t perfect but at this point, it was all he had.Yet there was, Clint reflected, something wrong. There was a coiling haze around the corners of his vision he couldn’t shake and if he didn’t know better, he would have sworn everything lagged like a bad 90s computer. Usually Clint only felt like this after an all-nighter playing some ‘stupid and idiotic videogame’ (Nat’s words, not his) and since he wasn’t looking at a new high score blinking across his screen, he could safely rule out an all-nighter.His bow was in his hands, his quiver was strapped to his back, and his target was clear.Everything was alright.Everything was alright.Everything was…Nat.Where was Nat?Nat’s mission should have been finished two days back and Clint had been saving quarters to go out and buy their usual after mission party-tray of pizza, wings, and drinks. He was saving his quarters specifically because ‘no Clint, quarters are for laundry machines and pinball games, NOT for twenty dollars plus of food’.Clint knows he should be counting out those quarters with a shit eating grin and a bottle of vodka beside his wrist (even after all these years, Nat refused to drink beer, saying that if she wanted water, she would have ordered it) and a half assed story about why the blockbuster video hadn’t been returned. He knows that scene. Had started the tradition weeks after the first time Mr. Carter had shoved a half dozen sandwiches down his throat.So, why wasn’t he in their apartment?Why wasn’t he picking up the phone to call in a pizza order?Why was he here, in a quinjet?The haze hanging around the corners of his vision licked at his temples and for a moment all Clint could think was that this was wrong.This was wrong. Wrong like back when his name was nothing more than a title. An order. Trick Shot. Not even a person. Back when the Ringmaster gave him nothing more than thin soul that did little to mask the taste of sweet. A sweetness that got into his very bones. Orders were easy and it was even easier knowing that hell came if you missed a meal. Oh sure, bruises came if you screwed up a task, but hell came when the cloying sweetness didn’t sink into your blood.Clint still, even after all this time, couldn’t take the drugs SHEILD offered as painkillers. Nat couldn’t drink a coke and Clint couldn’t take pills or eat soup.Except, Nat's mission hadn’t ended? Had it? She hadn’t text him like she had promised. Hadn’t called to nag him about the plates he had left on the counter when he realized he was late to his op.She hadn’t text.Why hadn’t she…The haze seemed to curl, sinking down into his chest with something much too cold.Romanov hadn’t text. His apartment was a bare place, holding little more than the necessities. But…he was missing something and it was so much worse than a few missed words here or there.The haze seemed to curl, sinking down into his chest with something much too cold.Of course, Clint hadn’t gotten her text, he was on a blackout mission. Had been since Agent Thomas Grey, new to the Tesseract Project, had stepped into the middle of the warehouse and…And…The haze wound tighter.They had been shot at. So-called SHEILD agents had shot into a room full of civilian scientists. Clint had covered the retreat, pulling Thomas along with him. Director Fury was down. Natasha was at the hellicarrier, being fed lies by the imposter.This was a Second Labours protocol.This was the Seconf Labours protocol. Retreat. Regroup. Weed out the interlopers. Agent Thomas had gone to Germany to try and reach out to some of the agents undercover. The hope had been those in deep cover might have been missed by the hostile takeover.Thomas hadn’t come back.Clint paused, his hands stilling mid equipment check. Why would Thomas go to Germany? It would have made more sense to use the networks already in place State side. There were old outposts and decommissioned sites waiting for someone to walk in and flip a switch.Hell, he and Natasha had jokingly sorted out almost this entire situation over a bottle of vodka a few years back. They had thrown hypothetical situations at each other, most having to do with take overs and defections. It wasn’t what most people did on a Saturday night, but Clint was rather positive he wasn’t ‘most' people.Why hadn’t Clint called…The haze sunk into his bones.Oh.They were almost at the hellicarrier.It was time to move out, wasn’t it?