definingfuture | IC inbox for duplicity

[ Ah, yeah, that makes a hell of a lot more sense. What are you doing now about keeping it from happening again. Would have been a fantastic thing to consider before Stefano stumbled across Steve's poor document security practices.

Hindsight is 20/20. ]

Back home they stuck me in a cryogenic freezer until they could figure it out. We came up with an alternative solution for here. A little too late, but.

Can't say I know how active the Avengers could have been, considering Hydra infiltrated SHIELD where I'm from. Things fell apart pretty damn quick while I was waking up
Couldn't really trust anyone.
Couldn't really remember anyone to trust them if I wanted to

[ They're breaking off on tangents now, they're covering a lot of history over text and... yeah. Maybe not the best format. ]

Name the time and the place
And if we could skip me getting my arm blown off this time that'd be
Swell
God damn things are expensive here

[ His impression of that entire world's set of heroes so far is not so stellar. Strange is the only one who he hasn't been put off by, and as a hero and leader over decades, Tony is not so pleased by the performance he's seen.

Still. There is always the future. ]

Come to #17. Just you. If you really want to talk, then we can talk.

[ There's a pause, and then Tony adds: ]

Of the two of us, you're the only one firing shots so far. I wasn't offering.

No shots

[ Not from him, not intentionally. He doesn't intend on it. This is an amends-making mission. Granted, it's not right to superimpose the image of the two of them. They're different people, different histories, and logically he knows that.

But there's an emotion-driven guilt-fueled piece of him that feels like this is almost close enough, a part of him that's desperate for it. Craves it, can't not chase the lead.

So. ]

Be there in ten.

[ And he is, with a polite knock, pursed lips, and hands shoved deep into his pockets. ]

[The door opens on its own when Bucky knocks. Tony is in the kitchenette, setting up a tray which he comes into view holding a few moments later. On it are a couple mugs, a bowl of creamer cups, a small bowl of sugar and a carafe. He nods to Bucky as he moves toward the living room.]

Come in. Make yourself comfortable.

[There's a lingering seriousness under his soft voice, but not more than that. The armor stands silent in the corner of the room. Otherwise, Tony and the room seems completely normal.]

[ There are a few wary moments of hypervigilance. Eyes track to the door (god damn that's neat), the tray, the suit, back to the tray, finally up to Tony where he studies Tony's face.

Taking stock of the differences.
Taking stock of the similarities.

He's read more than his fair share of science fiction paper backs. He gets the premise of multiple universes. Tossed around the idea on his back in a pup tent with other guys who told him to shut the hell up or talk about something worthwhile, like women.

It's a little different seeing it face to face.

But he's adaptable, and he's good at compartmentalizing. So he comes in, edges into Tony's space like it's a fragile thing, like he's afraid of breaking it just by existing.

Finds a seat. Sits. Finds words shortly after, and mutters a rusty: ]

Thanks.

[The apartment is modern and, when Herbert isn't working in it, somewhat empty. Tony keeps decoration to a minimum, focusing on comfort and cleanliness instead. A good couch and some nice chairs to curl up in on chilly nights. A coffee table he sets his tray on as he starts pouring coffee. Nothing overdone or gaudy, but still carrying a lived-in atmosphere.

He slides a mug toward Bucky, at first not saying anything. He just looks him over briefly and nods. It might seem like he's taking in what the man looks like, but what he's doing is pulling information out of the metal arm, reading its condition as the suit behind them scans Bucky and takes a record of his health. By the time Tony has prepared his own drink, it's over.]

You'll have to forgive me, but I'm going to start with business. I need you to tell me what you've done to remove the conditioning protocols from your mind.

[ The arm's not impressive. Frankly, it's shittier than the one his Tony blew off back in Siberia. It's a replacement crafted by the powers that be, and purchased with the salary afforded to him as a cop in the Up. It opens doors. Regulates temperature. Registers touch in a rudimentary way, but not so much texture. He couldn't tell cloth apart, but he can feel the warmth of fingertips.

Health-wise, physically, he's at peak. Has to be, thanks to the stuff pumping through him. Probably could have slept better the night before, but it's just a small blip in an otherwise artificially flawless picture.

Mentally, on the other hand... ]

Wanda ripped the words out of my head.

[ He curls (flesh) fingers around the mug, but doesn't lift it. It's a tactile excuse. A preoccupation for his hand. ]

Not the programming, I mean, the... the actual words. I can't even... remember them, and if you say 'em out loud it's like my brain just...

[ Locks up for a second. Freezes up trying to build any kind of cognitive synaptic understanding, trying to chase neural pathways that have been closed. He can't comprehend them anymore. Mental blue screen of death, reboot, move on. ]

Can't do math in Russian now, for what it's worth.

That's crude.

[His voice is still steady and soft, a gentle tone that comes from someone that prefers quieter days to those with extremes. He likes action plenty, but not aggression. Tony gives Bucky the faintest smile as he takes a sip of his coffee, considering him and the team as a whole from this information.]

Interrupting the programming would have been enough. It's less invasive and not nearly as damaging to anyone involved.

[He definitely noticed that freeze.]

The potential side effects of what it sounds like you did could be dangerous to you. I guess you already knew that.

You said Hydra was behind what happened to you? They taught you Russian?

[ Crude, but he'd wanted an immediate solution. It hadn't seemed relevant here, being so far removed from Hydra, from their own god damn universe, from anyone who even knew of his history. Steve just had the piss poor luck to be roommates with a serial killer, and to leave sensitive things around that he shouldn't have. The problem bred a slapdash solution that, frankly, were he to be sent back home he would reimplement in a heartbeat. He didn't know of any other better ways, so.

One, nine, rusty, longing, freight car- All of it, gone. At least he's still got it in English, but there's a very loose aphasia at work in Russian.

The soft voice is a change, it's...
Comforting? Reassuring, maybe.

He thumbs the handle of his mug. Stares at it instead of the other occupant in the room. ]

They- yeah, that and a couple dozen other languages. They had a...

[ How the hell to even talk about this? Put everything in a box, unpack it later. Say the facts. ]

They had an initiative. Project: Winter Soldier. They reprogram people, turn them into... tools. Take out everything nonessential, replace it with stuff they could use.

[ Out goes his sister. In goes Systema. ]

[The whole process goes against what Tony finds is essential in work as a superhero: do as little harm as possible. Turning to heroics through Iron Man was always about that. It was about help over harm, about changing the pattern of destruction to one of productivity and life, and he would always be against any method that succeeded through damage and hurting others. When Bucky doesn't respond to his comment, he notices. It seems that in another world the Avengers have less concern about the amount of collateral they cause and that there might be better, cleaner solutions to achieving the same end. It says a lot.]

Steve asked me about that. I was wondering if he thought I might somehow have been involved with it. That does sound like Hydra. They aren't very creative or good at branching out in their methods. I'm sorry you had to go through that.

[ He doesn't respond to assertions about danger to his own well-being not because he's being deliberately uncommunicative, but because the damage doesn't outweigh the benefit. The side-effects are a small price to pay, and it doesn't matter that he's got one small problem. It wasn't phrased as a question, and he's taking for granted that means it can be glossed over.

Easy enough to do. He's got practice.

He shakes his head dismissively, expression inscrutable, hair shifting and catching at his shoulders. ]

It's over. It's not important. I just-

[ A pause, and then finally he looks up to Tony — this new one, this version, who is the same except for all the ways he seems different. ]

The way you- he found out back home was... wrong. If it was the same with you, what happened... where you're from, I wanted to do it different. Sounds like it wasn't, though.

[ Tony weighs out the exchange. Every response and every pause gets recorded and filed away, and that becomes literal for a man with a mind that is an actual database. He's getting a larger picture of their world and background through piecing together these snippets, and his ability to cross-reference comes more easily because of the way he processes information now.

Finding what he wants or needs to say, however, is always going to rely on the human part. That Tony holds back on, sipping his coffee thoughtfully before coming up with a reply. ]

My parents died in a car crash. It was brake failure. They had nothing to do with Project Rebirth, although I'm sure my dad had his share of enemies who didn't mourn when they heard about it.

[ He feels bad for this man. Not just for what he's gone through, but for what he's seeking. ]

It sounds like you probably should have told Tony sooner. But I'm guessing your people don't talk much.

[ Not like his friends. It's sad to know that. ]

Anyway, if it was an order by Hydra, you were being controlled. What matters is what comes after. What you do now. That's where you can make the difference.

[ He looks physically younger than the other Stark, not that he'd know, but the way he carries himself and his general mood is older, one that has seen the death of the world a few times and lived through it to put securities in place for next time. He's not exactly warm yet, but he's not cold either. ]

I guess if we're working with full disclosure, you should know I'm acting Director of SHIELD.

[ It's a lot to file away, and while Bucky's mind is very much not a database it is a series of unkempt cardboard boxes haphazardly taped together and shoved behind walls so he can deal with the here and now without succumbing to the contents of any one particular box. Tony touches on two or three at a time, and he licks his lips as he filters the information to their designated Do Not Kick receptacles.

His thumb worries steadily at the place where mug handle meets actual mug, that small joining divot constantly scrubbed with the print on his pad.

What matters is what you do now.
Murder five people in a city where he finally didn't have a history.
They're all alive again, though, which is better — but it means facing them head on, like he's trying to do now.

He bites his tongue, searches for the right path. His hesitance translates through in his speech, slow spoken, careful, deliberate words. ]

I made it look like a car crash.

[ Just in case. Just in case, because it's too close to the fabrication. It may be a coincidence. He hopes it is.

Being Director of SHIELD doesn't bother him so much; they tore the organization down before it was much of a factor where he's from. Unless Tony plans on starting a new BDSM chapter of it here, it's not likely to be a concern in the future.

Just another interesting fact to jot down on the mental notepad where he's compiling a list. ]

[Tony's expression tightens and he gives Bucky a hard look through blue eyes. It's perhaps the closest he's come to stern, a look he's echoing from someone else, but the emotion behind it is true.]

We don't have a file suggesting the Winter Soldier was active that recently. Not until he was employed for other means. And Hydra is relatively easy to spot once you've taken them down a few times. They leave fingerprints.

[He sets down his mug, leaning forward to ask the next question. The important one.]

These words you mentioned. How many people here would know about them?

[ Funny how it seems like Tony's already at a point that one stern look can make him feel chastised. His eyes duck, and he gets the message. Leave it alone. Focus on the present. ]

Know them? The guy who did this to me.

[ The one they still don't have a name for. The masked artist. ]

Know about them?

[ A more broad question, and he tilts his head a little to consider it. ]

Steve. Natasha. Sam. Wanda. Peggy, and... her partner.

[ His tongue searches his teeth, digging through his mind for anyone else. A careful exhale. ]

The two people I've told here.

[ Will Graham and Jack Benjamin. The two people he let in close enough to discuss it with. His submissive and his clone. A considering beat, and then a look at Tony. ]

You.

[ He makes a mental note of that list. They are names he knows, and he expects Bucky trusted them because of their familiarity. It checks out. The few loose ends are left unnamed, and that is more concerning, because it means he probably told some strangers. Which is obviously his choice, but Tony can't help being uncomfortable with those unknown variables.

His expression softens anyway, because it must have taken a lot for this man to come forward and approach him with everything he's just unloaded. That takes courage. ]

Okay. What did you want to know from me? I'm guessing you have at least a few questions.

[ The look he gives Bucky is slightly dry, but still soft. He's a decent man as far as Tony knows. Troubled and hurt, but trying. ]

[ Trying indeed, though how successfully remains to be seen. Maybe if he had the benefit of guidance during those formative months after waking up, maybe if the world hadn't gone immediately to shit. From freezer to loneliness to a civil war among the Avengers, he's been displaced and uprooted since he fell and hasn't found structure since.

He'd been better off alone, he thinks, sometimes. Less of a danger to anyone else, less of a burden, freer, safer in the hostels and the ramshackled apartments in Europe.

But he has Steve now, and that's worth more than freedom. Ironic, given what country he represents. ]

How do you know me? Where you're from, how is it different?

[ How could things have gone, in another life? ]

[ It's not the question Bucky is really asking him, but Tony smiles anyway. What Bucky asks is how Tony knows him and he doesn't. He doesn't know the man across from him at all, but at the mention of it, he still lights up with warmth he's been holding back. ]

Bucky is a friend. We occasionally work together. His missions are generally off-limits to someone like me... I have a certain image to keep, but I trust him.

Sometimes he even lets me improve his suit.

As for your file, that is in classified SHIELD knowledge. I know about it because I have clearance to know. And because he came back.

[ How it's different is a whole other trunk to unpack. ]

He cut his hair for one thing.

[ I have a certain image to keep, he says, and Bucky can relate to the sentiment. Back in the war when Steve was building a public profile, it didn't exactly due for Captain America to get his hands dirty in ways Barnes was happy to do. Some things, it seems, are consistent across universes. He does the dark jobs, the questionable ones, so that others don't have to.

At he cut his hair, though, Bucky pulls a face immediately. Disgruntled and incredulous, he cards his own hair back out of his face like he's making sure it's still there. ]

No thanks.

[ Is the flat, rather dry sounding answer he'll give to the very notion.

Circling back around: ]

Suit? Like-

[ A pointed glance at the suit in Tony's living room. ]

[ It's the way Bucky reacts to the thought of having his hair cut short that gets to Tony. He watches the man pull a face and dismiss that thought like it's a bad taste in his mouth and smiles, letting out a soft laugh at this man that doesn't quite look like Bucky but still has a familiar metal arm and knowledge that Tony knows no one else would have, including himself. ]

Like a suit. Not armor. We're not quite that close yet. But I do handle his personal upgrades as well.

[ Bucky can take that however he wants to. Tony is having a little fun, even if it's just to take his own mind off of the stress. ]

But you... What's your relationship with him like? You're not here to kill me, are you?

[ Personal upgrades, suits, he's picturing the thing Steve wore the last time Bucky saw him in the field. The airport, maybe, before he went under the ice. Something like that, something that indicates he's part of a team, or that he's at least on the other side of the situation this Bucky's been in himself.

Well, good for him. Good to know somewhere out there he's fighting instead of running.

But those couple of peaceful years without fighting had been nice.

Maybe not so good for him.

The question brings his brows together, startlement, incredulous disbelief. Be a hell of a thing to come and drink coffee with the guy, talk about their pasts, then shoot him on his own damn couch. ]

No, I just- no.

[ A shake of his head, hair catching on his shoulders, face dipping toward the ground. ]

Thought I had a second chance to do things better. Figured it was the right thing to do.

[ After the way it went down with his Tony. After everything that just happened with Stefano. Although the longer he sits here, the more apparent it is that these two Starks are very different, and his apologies and explanations mean nothing to anyone but himself. The more he knows that, the less they relieve the knot he feels in his gut when he thinks of Howard's son.

Maybe he's not here for any good reason at all, then. ]

[ Tony gives Bucky a warm smile when he denies the suggestion. It's fond, even if he can't say he's familiar with the man, because the way he looks down and says he wanted a second chance means everything. ]

Well, I'm glad to hear it. It would be a pretty bad first meeting if one of us died right away.

[ He laughs, a little tired, maybe, but with a comfort that comes with the acceptance of his place. He's always going to be threatened by someone because of who he is, and Tony just as easily dismisses the idea as he brought it up. What's more important is where that hesitation came from. It's the same awkward, uncomfortable sound he makes when he wants to say something and can't. One thing Tony knows well: guilt. ]

You know what I think?

[ Tony reaches over to put a hand on Bucky's arm. ]

You already have the chance to start over. You're doing it right now. Maybe we can't go back and change what we've done and the regrets are always going to be there, but we learn from them. If I know Tony Stark, he feels the same way. Iron Man was my way of starting over. I think he'd appreciate knowing that you were trying to do the same thing.

It's all right. Trust me.

[ He looks up at the touch, brow wrinkling, eyes going a little soft. He can handle words all day, can distance himself from them, but when it comes to fingers curling around his shoulder, locking on his wrist, touching?

It obliterates his defenses easier than he likes to admit.

Maybe this Tony is right. He'd like to believe that, he would, and he swallows down a surge of something that threatens to fill his throat. Dryly murmurs instead: ]

That or he'd throw a cheeseburger in my face and blow my arm off.

[ Feels like a toss-up, but he only knows what he's heard. ]

You're James Barnes.

[ He knows what thoughts can fill up the mind when things get bad. He's been there, done those awful things whether he remembered them or not, whether he really wanted to or not, and he would just as soon banish that doubt away from those around him than have them suffer. ]

You aren't what anyone else tried to make you. You still have your life. As long as you're still breathing, then you can change it. There's a future ahead.

[ And as optimistic and ignorant as that sounds, Tony's smile is steady, fixed on Bucky. ]

He'll understand. I believe he'll eventually come around, because he'll know what it can be like. Doing things... you don't want to do. I can't say he won't be angry, but I believe in him. And I believe in you.

And Steve. [ Tony squeezes Bucky's arm lightly. ] It sounds like you both need a little of that.

[ You're James Barnes, and it takes deliberate willpower to bite his tongue rather than speak up on instinct to insist, it's Bucky. Wouldn't wanna cut off some words of wisdom spoken from the heart, though, so he satisfies himself with a twitching jaw and dipping eyes, that duck down to the mug on Tony's coffee table.

They flicker back up at the squeeze of his arm, brows knit softly together, an expression on his face some mix of appreciative and restrained.

It's a good sentiment.
He hopes it's all true. Hopes this Stark is right about the way of things, though this man seems about a hundred times more kind than the man he met.

Circumstances being what they were... maybe a little benefit of the doubt ought to come with it.

He forces out a tight smile, as best he can. ]

Thanks. I- um... [ He passes his palms (palm, really) over his pants, breathes out slow. ] I'm not so good at touching moments. But. Thanks.

[ Which might just be preempting his cue to leave, because the mug's gone cold and his chest's gone tight, and he accomplished more or less what he set out to by coming here.

It's a start, anyway. ]

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definingfuture - 2018-12-30 19:07 (UTC) - Expand