starkingenuity | (no subject)

After the Helicarrier, after pulling his target--Steve his name is Steve, I think--out of the water, after staring at the face of the man Captain America had claimed him to be, he still doesn't remember. He can't be the man from the exhibit. Steve's words had been familiar and all around confusing. He's just confused.

He ditches the clothes first and steals ones that aren't nearly as conspicuous. He steals food too but that's not nearly as easy to accomplish and he goes hungry most of the time. He's cold too but all he has is a bench in the park and he's taught a few ruffians a lesson in trying to steal what he does have.

It only brings his attention to how damaged his metal arm really is and the longer it goes without repairs, the more it wears down. He can force the fingers to work if he tries really hard but basically they stay curled up most of the time.

When he blinks awake from the disconcerting dream he's had and sees a man in a metal suit standing there, he jerks backward abruptly though he's sitting down. He throws up both hands to warily defend himself too. It'll be obvious to the other man that his arm isn't working properly. There is an obvious delay in reaction time compared to the other arm and the fingers don't straighten.

His eyes flick to one side and then other, judging whether he has escape routes. He highly doubts he can outrun whatever this is--is it someone he should know? Bucky's expression turns from wary to confused and back to wary.

He doesn't say anything. He's still not used to being allowed to say things without being prompted.

Having preferred the company of machines nine times out of ten for the majority of his life, seeing something so broken does chafe at him a little. It's not the arm that he really ought to be concerned about, however. The arm matters little. It's the man that arm belongs to that needs to be dealt with.

"Hate to go all Indigo Montoya on you," Tony says from behind the mask of silver. He hadn't bothered painting it. There's not much polish on this thing at all, but it works, it flies, and it can kill if needed.

He's starting to have second thoughts on the killing though. Sure, he's been the cause of a lot of it collaterally but this is different. This is a vendetta.

And Tony is rapidly losing his nerve.

"But you killed my father. And from what I've seen, a lot of people's fathers."

His expression is infinitely confused--Indigo Montoya? Who is that? What is that? He doesn't even know. He looks so lost as he stares back at Tony.

After a moment, he tilts his head slightly and looks almost... broken. On one hand, he's Steve Rogers hero best friend and on the other a tailored assassin that's just woken up in a world of a chaos. Before, there had only been the next order. The next mission. All the rest had been wiped away so all he remembers is Steve Rogers.

Now he's a weapon with no trigger, broken and useless. A man that has nothing in the world but some change in his pocket. Change he had scraped the knuckles on his real hand protecting.

He wet his lips and said, as honestly as he could make it, "I'm sorry..." He presses them together a moment letter, almost in a wince, before he says, "I don't remember."

He's sorry.

He doesn't remember.

Tony swallows behind the mask, glad it shields him because this might just well be murder. "That's a little convenient," he mutters. "I wish everything worked like that. Get a little drunk, pass out, and what you did before that doesn't matter."

He takes a step forward. It's something to brace himself on, to follow through with. It makes this real.

"Do you remember Howard Stark?" he asks, arm still lifted, the blue in the center of his palm aiming for the broken remnants of a man used. Damn it.

His confused expression only gets worse as Tony keeps talking. This isn't like getting drunk and passing out. This is everything. Everything.

Bucky stares, not comprehending, at the hand raised toward him. He doesn't know Iron Man. He doesn't know what the suit is capable of but he does know he's wary and uncertain of it.

Howard Stark. Howard Stark. He repeats the name in his head a few times. It sounds familiar. He feels like he should with the way he's being threatened. He's sure now he's being threatened but he's not sure it matters. It'd be doing him a favor really.

"I don't even know who I am," he tells the other man with slumped shoulders when nothing related to Howard comes to him. His gaze shifts, he keeps going back to Steve, "I was... I was supposed to kill Captain America. Why did I save him instead...?"

His eyes shift back to Tony, "Was Howard a friend of his?"

If Tony could wipe a hand down his face right now, he would. The blankness in Bucky's eyes is terrifying enough, but JARVIS' voice in his ear confirming that, through virtual readings, he isn't lying makes it worse.

"He was your friend, yeah," he says, trying to stay hard and failing. The arm drops and the repulsor disengages for the moment. He focuses on that broken arm, on the degeneration of the metal and the wires as dew has settled into the circuitry. "Stand up, soldier. You're coming with me."

He should kill him. He still might, before Steve finds out he has his old bestie. Tony rarely plays Good Samaritan. And he isn't now, either, he tells himself.

He almost looks shocked by the question pulling back and wide-eyed as he regards Tony in front of him. His voice is just as quiet as he speaks again, "My friend?"

His other arm is only doing slightly better. He had popped it into place again after Steve had dislocated it but under his stolen shirt he is a mess of bruises. Considering he is nearly on Steve's level of healing, that speaks to both his malnutrition and his injuries.

Bucky almost wants to jump at the orders. Finally, someone telling him what to do. The problem is he's been threatened first and who knows who is even behind that mask.

"I don't know you."

"How about we put two and two together then? You killed my dad. Howard Stark was your friend and my dad, ergo? That's right. I'm Howard's son. You're James Buchanen Barnes, also known as Bucky or most recently 'That Shithead Winter Soldier. You, Captain Rogers and dear old dead Howard all hung out in the war together, way before you lost your arm and your mind. Now. Stand up. You're coming with me. I'd prefer to do it the easy way but, just in case you can't figure it out, hard way is fine for me too."

He grins, though Bucky can't see it behind the mask and Tony moves forward.

"I won't drag you too far. The Ritz keeps rooms for me nearby. Hold on with your good arm if you know what's good for you." Bucky might be fast, but he's also tired and confused. Tony's suit is faster.

He listens to everything with a confused frown. These names only make sense when he actually remembers. Tony being Howard's son means almost nothing to him. It corroborates what Captain America had told him about himself but that doesn't mean it's not a trap.

His eyes narrow slightly at the order. He doesn't like this. Tony is concerning him. It feels too much like a trap. His paranoia is sending off a billion alarm bells in his heads.

Tony won't have any warning. Nothing but a brief wild look in Bucky's eyes. He's not going easily. It hurts like hell but Bucky uses his real arm to propel himself backward off the bench and runs.

"Oh really?"

Tony rolls his head around on his neck and sighs. He's probably too old for this but he really likes a challenge. Again, he lifts his arm. OKAY. So yes, firing a repulsor beam at Bucky isn't exactly a challenge, and the EMP charge being focused at his arm... Also not fair in this fight.

Not that the arm proves much of a challenge here. It's already so horribly broken. He feels bad for it.

"Don't make me do this the hard way. I might not actually want to kill you just yet after all!" He ignores JARVIS's remark that he's likely not helping his cause.

Yes, really. Bucky ignores him from behind and forces his malnourished, broken down body to cooperate as he sprints off the path into the meager amount of trees.

If there's one thing he does remember, it's how to make a getaway. He's not so good at going underground without the resources but he knows how to make himself disappear. He just needs to get away from Tony.

Why can't people just leave him alone?

God damn it. Why do people always run after you expressly tell them not to? Tony sighs and takes to the air. He's unsteady, yes, but he's built forty-two suits in his life (as that seems to be the answer to the meaning of life and the universe according to some massive computer he secretly hopes exists so he can date her) and even without testing, this one is still pretty good.

Unlucky 43. He's ruined it!

JARVIS shifts to the battle HUD, which glows orange because he'd been out of little red LEDs for the inside of the helmet, and Tony pauses overhead and a bit in front of Bucky. He blasts him with the EMP first. "You should stop now." When that doesn't have the desired effect, it's the repulsor itself, aimed at Bucky's back as he jogs around trees.

His gaze flicks up to the flying man and gives him a glare. This had not been in his plans for today either. The EMP blast staggers him and he lets out a small sound of pain as his arm falls even more useless than it had already been.

He doesn't listen to the suggestion to stop and earns himself a blast in the back that sends him sprawling. He's slow getting up, particularly with one arm and he's incredibly vulnerable right now.

"Stand down, soldier," Tony commands from over Bucky's head. "It doesn't have to go this way."

But it does. Tony is to fooling himself. He'll shoot Bucky as many times as it takes and when it's done, hopefully he'll still be breathing. JARVIS will confirm it for him and then he'll scoop up the Winter Soldier and do what Steve Rogers can't.

Fix that damned arm.

He doesn't listen to that either. Tony isn't exactly extolling his confidence here.

The second blast has him hitting the dirt again and he curls in on himself. It takes two more to knock him unconscious and that leaves him completely at Tony's mercy. He's gaunt and too young looking when he's asleep. He definitely doesn't scream master assassin with his scraggly, greasy hair and dirty clothes. It had been his intention of course but it just shows how far he's fallen.

Bucky mumbles again in russian before his eyes blearily open. He's no stranger to waking up in places he doesn't remember but it doesn't make it any less panic inducing. His breathing and heartbeat spike, only added to by the sounds of someone working on his arm. His eyes flick that direction and see Tony sitting there. It's tempting to just jerk away but not with tools in his arm.

Ignoring the way his captive and subject jolts awake, and really needing to learn Russian because German isn't helping as much as he thought it should, Tony doesn't look up through the red tinted goggles he has on and just smirks. "Flex your middle finger inward?" He pauses to watch and then frowns when nothing happens.

The servos are fried. It's not a problem but he doesn't have a full lab here. He's already cannibalized part of his suit but his tools aren't exactly precision either.

"How about your thumb? Honestly, how do they have you wired up? It's like patches on patches."

Edited 2014-04-23 02:04 (UTC)

Bucky is obviously in distress. Tony can talk all he wants but he's just going to get a wide eyed wild look. He can't be back with them. They'll wipe him again. They'll put him back in the freezer. He only knows basic maintenance on his arm. One mission he had welded a few lines back together and they had flipped out. As far as he'd been concerned, it'd gotten the job done.

Prisoners aren't usually terribly cooperative, Tony.

Luckily, Tony doesn't need to be answered. He's really very, very good with being ignored too because it lets him just talk at his leisure. There's very little more he likes than to listen to himself. Or so he makes everyone else believe.

When Bucky doesn't comply, however, Tony removes his hands and frowns at the sallow-eyed man. "Listen, if you want a funky arm, fine. More power to you. But if you want me to fix it, a little cooperation would be nice."

Tony's not in the suit anymore after all.

He could just be a new Hydra scientist for all Bucky knows.

If Tony had shown him his face before, he might be less concerned now but he doesn't remember Howard to see the resemblance and as far as he knows the only that knows anything about his arm is Hydra. He barely hears what Tony says at all.

He turns a wild, afraid look on the man and his expression is pitifully broken. "Please... please not again."

You don't expect your enemy to look at you like that and Tony rolls back ever so slightly in the desk chair. The room is pretty nice, but he's already messed it up while he built part of a lab to take a look at Bucky's arm. He'd been salivating over it, scanning it with JARVIS through the suit and--

And not expecting to see such fear in those blue eyes of his father's killer.

"Not what again?" he asks, just to be certain. "Put you back on ice? Hate to tell you but your masters are gone. We cut off all of their heads. Hard to grow back more when you're a dead hydra. You're safe. More or less. Your lucky I like to tinker."

No, it isn't the ice though that is wholly unpleasant too. It's wiping that makes him afraid. He hasn't come a long way but he knows things now. He also remembers how much it hurts.

Bucky still doesn't know if he can trust Tony or what he's telling him. He doesn't put together that this is the same person from the park because as far as he knows that had just been a machine.

"Gone?" he echoes, tongue running across his bottom lip nervously. He eyes the room again and it doesn't mean much that he doesn't recognize it. His eyes shift back to Tony, "Then who are you?"

"Tony Stark." Honestly, did this guy pass out and forget every single time? "Listen, 'Memento,' I don't have time to constantly fill you in, all right? I'll run it down for you. Steve Rogers sometimes works with me. You killed my dad and a few hundred other people. I'm Iron Man. And I have been nursing a hangover so I can get your arm back to working. Don't try to run."

He gave Bucky one of his father's best 'looks' and tapped a screwdriver against his knee.

"Will you flex your fingers now? For me? You do kinda owe me."

"From the park," he says slowly, a little confused and no, he doesn't forget things all the time. He just doesn't know what Iron Man is because he's been a little busy. He listens to the summary anyway because he remembers enough to find holes in things. It's the same as before.

"If I... if I killed your dad and all those people. Why are you helping me?"

It's the same question he wants to ask Steve almost. After everything, why would he save him?

Bucky turns his gaze down on his hand and tries to do as asked, only two of them move. One of them twitches. It's accompanied by a harsh sounding 'whir' that shouldn't be there and he frowns at it.

"That's a really good question. I'm not helping you, exactly. I'm helping your arm. Plus, unfortunately, I'm a good guy. That means that I only kill people if they're trying to kill me or it's an accident. More the latter. Plus... You look like you're going to cry." And something inside of Tony had almost broken when he saw that look on the park bench.

He grits his teeth behind his lips and just lets it go. He wants to hurt Bucky still, but that lingering desire is hardly there any more. It's replaced with...pity.

"Besides, your bestie would kick my ass. I didn't call him, by the way. I figure that if you're sleeping on a park bench, it's because he doesn't know where you are and you don't want him to. Hungry? I have peanuts and scotch."

He gives Tony a confused look. He's helping his arm? In what world does that even make sense? The crying thing makes a little more sense but it's not going to happen. He doesn't know that kidnapping a homeless person makes someone a 'good guy' but who is he to judge? Bucky has no idea.

"I don't know him either," he tells him, eyeing his arm again. "And I don't cry."

Bucky swallows, he doesn't know about scotch but any kind of food is a good thing. "Peanuts?"

Tony has a few issues with the spectrum of good versus evil. Mostly he falls in the middle of a wide sliding scale. He tries to be better, but let's be honest. Men like Tony just can't be good, not completely. He's stopped trying. Especially after he submitted to having his heart removed.

For what? Pepper? His own peace of mind? He feels empty. And killing Bucky like this would have just made that emptiness grow.

He can't allow that.

"They're on the table." He gestures with a screwdriver. "Are you a Chinese sort of killing machine or more Italian? I could order in some room service." Why the hell is he being nice to this man?

Bucky Barnes shouldn't be alive.

But neither should he. Shit. Redemption story sucker!

Bucky doesn't fall anywhere on any scale. He's questionable all over. If he had to guess, killing a bunch of people made him pretty evil. He doesn't want to be. He thinks anyway. There's just a lot of things he has to sort out first. Like all his morals.

He's allowed to move? He only stares at Tony for a moment before he shifts to stand up. He hesitates, waiting to be yelled at for it and moves to eat as many peanuts as fast as he can. He's starving okay. He pauses long enough to give Tony a confused look at the question and decides he has no idea about an answer.

"I don't know."

How could a person not know what he likes better?

Answer: the same person that shoved peanuts down his throat as if he's afraid that Tony will slap it out of his hand. Tony watches the scene for a moment before he turns away. Any defiance in Bucky's eyes are overshadowed by his desperate he is. "J--?"

The AI answers with a curt "Yessir?"

"One of everything from the menu."

Once upon a time, he'd had no one too. He'd been young and hateful and let his youth go by in a flash of genius. And then his parents died. He'd not looked back. And maybe he should have. Besides. His old man never talked about Bucky Barnes. It was always Captain America.

Slap out of his hand. Take it away. One or the other or both. He had failed--though history doesn't talk about those moments because he had always gone back--and his punishments had been cruel. They had kept him under control in the beginning by teaching him that he had no choices. They told him what to do and when. End of story. Food included.

He slows down a little, stopping only to try to work up some spit in his mouth, peanuts suck the moisture right out and Bucky doesn't ask for things like drinks of water. He's not to that point yet. He keeps side-eyeing Tony, still a wary wild animal expecting their new benefactor to turn on them.

So great. Fantastic. Here he was, just minding his own business on a personal vendetta after a year filled with nearly being killed over a dozen times since his brush with death in the vortex, and now he had a puppy to take care of. Usually you get started off with a plant. He's not good with people unless he's trying to get s business deal or a one night stand--

Bucky isn't either.

"Okay. Never mind. Come back here and let me finish up. Two fingers are better than none and you still have that awful whirring sound in one of those gyros. I'm really hoping it's not fleas."

He brings the peanuts with him and again licks his lips but says nothing. He's probably dehydrated too. It's not something he pays attention to. He hadn't exactly been taught how to take care of himself.

After a moment of hesitation, he sits back down. He still looks uncomfortable with this idea. "He broke it," Bucky mutters.

"He who? Our golden boy, Cap?" Well damn. Thor had crushed the arm of his suit once but to know that Steve Rogers could do the same is a little... Hot.

Shit. That's disturbing.

"I'll send him the bill then," he continues gently. As gently as he can. His mouth keeps going dry from the whiplash of feelings Bucky gives to him. He doesn't try to take the peanuts away. He does get up to get a scotch though. "I'll finish after room service comes. But I was serious about the concern for fleas. You look like you might have contracted a few."

Bucky only gave Tony a quiet nod in confirmation; it was Steve, trying to get the damn chip out of his hand and it took a whole lot more than that to pry it out of his hand. The show of strength was impressive. Steve would probably feel bad about it knowing him. He'd be sheepish if Tony used it to flirt with him or mentioned it at all.

He's not doing much better on the whiplash feelings; he's not doing so well himself here. He gives Tony a wary look when he stands up , just in case, but relaxes again when he goes to get a drink instead. He's not much for words. He's used to not being allowed to even speak. Instead, All he does is gives the man a look that asks 'what the hell do you want me to do about it'.

Luckily, Tony reads looks. He reads them very well. He's none too pleased with all of the defiance though, even if it's amusing. It would be much more amusing if not directed towards him however. Frowning, Tony points at the heavy double doors to the left. "Bathroom. Use it. Wash your hair five times if it needs it. There's a robe in there. Your arm's fine to get wet. The thing is geniusly designed and I don't usually give that compliment to anything I didn't have a hand in."

Do not make him have to show you how to wash. He's not up to the puppy stage on the caring for life scale. He killed his cactus. How do you kill a cactus?

Sorry, defiance is all he had with Hydra. This is actually a toned down version of it. Defiance is just his default expression now. If he wants something done, it'll have to be an order. Like the shower, see that is perfect. Bucky knows what to do with orders—follow them.

His gaze shifts to the dorks and he looks loathe to abandon the peanuts but an order is an order and honestly, the shambles of his programming jump at the chance to follow them. It's what he's known for a considerable part of his life. He slides off the bed and goes to take a shower, stripping quickly and efficiently without closing the door. He doesn't think of it. He inspects he instructions on the shampoo as he steps under the spray. It's barely lukewarm but it doesn't matter because he's used to it. It's not easy to wash with his half his fingers not functioning but he does shampoo his hair five times and scrub himself down before stepping out to dry himself off.

As voyeuristic as Tony Stark can be, he's much more interested in drowning himself in scotch. A lot of scotch. Somewhere between lather, rinse and repeat number three, the food comes. He tips every man that rolls in a cart with a hundred dollar bill. There are five carts in all, all covered with metal domes to keep burgers and omelettes hot.

Tony won't get started until Bucky shows up, water logged and thinner than he thought and swimming in a black terry cloth robe with stark's logo on it.

He's seated at the table at the window, looking over the cherry blossoms, his eyes haunted and the alcohol half done.

Water-logged and a little careless with the robe but it's so large it doesn't matter much. Tony might get a little chest now and then but largely it's just robe. Bucky can smell the food and it makes his mouth water. He's starving.

He sits down at the table but he keeps his hands to himself. Until he's told he can eat, he won't. Bucky is paranoid this could all be some kind of test. It doesn't mean anything to him that the bottle is almost gone. It's not his place to judge. It's not his place to do anything.

Nothing but shift his gaze between Tony and the food, not unlike a puppy asking if it's okay to have.

Now that bothers him. More than anything else, seeing Bucky sitting there, salivating-- Tony doesn't wish that shit on anyone. Not on Obi. Not on Hammer. Not on anyone.

Not even the man that ws forced to kill his dad. His friend. Tony's eyes actually well up and he clears his throat, donning dark glasses.

"Have at it. Just don't make a mess, okay?" As in utensils. He'll help you cut the meat if you need it.

He's obviously relieved when Tony says he can go ahead and eat. He'd been punished for failure--before rectifying it--and he has to say that not stopping Steve on the Helicarrier is probably the worst of them. Not that he remembers, but the entire organization fell apart and his masters are dead, so he can assume.

The last thing he needs is help with a knife. He scowls at the dull steak knife. This is a disgrace. Unfortunately, all of his are missing and he knows that has to be Tony's fault. There isn't a hell of a lot he can do about it.

Well. There is. Food is just more important right now and believe it or not, he doesn't kill people without a mission. He eats as fast as he can get things into small enough pieces to fit in his mouth.

With only one working hand, Tony doesn't expect Bucky to be able to manipulate a knife like he obviously can. The older man huffs lightly under his breath as he watches Bucky tuck into a lasagna.

He sits back. Whatever hunger he has is gone. He won't take anything from Bucky's mouth, despite the large quantities of food that are currently stinking up the whole of the suite.

There's something satisfying about the way Bucky piles it in. He feels... Good. Like he's doing something good with his life.

He's managed to awkwardly use his functioning fingers to hold the dish well enough he can cut it with the utensil pretending to be a knife in his good hand. Bucky doesn't exactly care if it's neat or if his metal hand gets dirty. After adding a third dish to his pile, he eyes Tony for a moment, trying to decide if the man will take away the food if he gets up to get some water.

Tony's already deemed not to pay attention. He remembers hunger, he remembers being afraid. His chest tightens considerably. "You know, i was a prisoner once. Afghanistan. Sometimes they forgot that people need to eat. They certainly forgot that people needed to drink too."

He could catch Bucky's hesitation in the slight reflection of the mirror.

"I'm never going to take either from you. Ever."

Edited 2014-04-25 11:52 (UTC)

Bucky watches in the man in the mirror to determine whether he's telling the truth and decides that, yes, Tony had probably been a prisoner at some point. There aren't any questions from him right now. It has nothing to do with his mission. His lips press together and he looks aside at the thought. He doesn't have a mission right now. He might never again. He's not sure that's an entirely happy thought. Being so directionless is killing him.

He slides out of his seat and moves to the pitcher of water sitting on one of the carts and downs three full glasses as quickly as he can manage. It's as much acknowledgement as he's going to get.

"You're going to throw up if you drink and eat that fast though," he cautions. That he remembers. The first set of cheeseburgers he'd downed came back up almost immediately. You have to train your stomach to accept food again. It had been a slow process.

"Then again, I'm not a super soldier like the ex-military in the Avengers tend to be."

Now, wouldn't that just be a kicker? Winter Soldiers can become summer soldiers, can't they? It worked for Steve. Then again, Steve had never been homocidal.

Tony turns to study Bucky's profile with half a frown.

He pauses before he starts his next glass and considers the warning for a moment. He feels fine right now but it would be stupid to throw up all the nutrients that he's ingested. He's never actually talked to a super-soldier. He knows now that Steve had been going easy in him because for some reason he thinks Bucky is his dead friends. As far as he's concerned, the jury is still out on it. He's not convinced his memories are that or fake ones his brain is creating to fill in the gaps.

Bucky shoots him a look; he knows Tony is watching him. He refills his glass and drops back down in his seat at the table. Bucky isn't homicidal. His alter-ego had been forced into it but he's not, he just wants to be left alone right now. It's my to say he would t if he felt threatened though, it's just not on his agenda right now.

Silence begets silence but Tony does have himself a cheese burger, laden with too many onions and mushrooms to be anything but messy and stops to clean his beard every few bites. He's got another glass of scotch again, this one he's nursing.

He can feel the alcohol working and, sure, he's been accused of being suicidal sometimes, but this totally takes the cake.

He has a murderer, an assassin, sitting across from him. He's too drunk to get into the suit. No one knows he's here. And he's going to push buttons too.

"So what do you remember? I know you keep giving me blank looks so I figure it's easier just to ask."

He eats slower too at Tony's suggestion and a variety of things. He tends to lean toward things with fruits and vegetables in them. It's a habit from when they were a novelty during the Depression and when he was overseas in a miserable camp. He might not remember but there it is anyway. It's in there somewhere. Luckily for Tony, while he knows the man is drunk because he can smell it, it doesn't matter either. He's more likely to just run than to hurt the other man. So far, now that they're here anyway, he hasn't threatened him and he hadn't hurt him knocking him out before either.

Bucky is quiet while he chews, staring at Tony for a long moment before he answers the question. "Captain America was my target. I was supposed to kill him and stop him from sabotaging those big ships. I failed. He insisted I was his friend. James Buchanan Barnes--Bucky," he took another bite of his fruit salad before he continued. "I didn't believe him." His gaze shifted to the side, "I tried to follow through and he said something. It was... familiar. Him, the name, those words. the floor collapsed and he fell. I saved him from drowning. I don't know... I don't know why."

He shook his head, "I went to that exhibit. I might be him. I don't know. Remembering only gets me in trouble." He mutters the last part distantly, eyes eerily blank as he shifts into the memory and wets his lips. "It's all his fault."

"Hard to get in trouble when I'm the only one here." Unwittingly, Tony makes himself out to be Bucky's new Master and handler. The wording might be a little awkward, but Tony is relaxed around him the same way that his former handlers had all been. The men in charge of the Winter Soldier needed to be calm.

Anything less could be trouble. It was the same for working with animals. You had to be careful with them. You had to keep your cool. You had to be in charge.

Tony was just a man use to being in charge, whether people wanted him to be or not.

"Maybe," he mutters, eyeing the other man. Jury is still out on that one as far as he's concerned. So far what he knows about Tony is very little and not enough to be comfortable around him yet. "Only takes one."

Now that actually makes Tony laugh and he nods his head a few times in amusement. "It only takes yourself," he counters. "And trust me. You're the one that's going to do the worst damage. It doesn't matter if Steve looks at you with those annoying doe eyes or if people on the street cringe when you pass. It's you, soldier. You're the one that's going to rip yourself open every time you decide to look in the mirror."

Spoken like a man that knows. And oh. Oh. Does Tony ever know. He toys with the empty glass and smirks. Scotch only helps so much. His reflection still makes him sick to his stomach sometimes.

He's quiet as he listens to Tony and chews his next bite. He's actually starting to get full and that's a good thing. It's not a feeling that he's had for awhile. Tony certainly knows what he's talking about and it's isn't something you can just make up. You have to experience it.

"I don't do mirrors," he mutters. For just that reason. "It's just easier for everyone if I don't. I'm a bad person. You said it yourself."

"That guy you were before you saved our dear captain's life was a bad guy. Bad guys don't drag their enemies to the shore and keep them from dying before their apparent ages match up with their actual ones." He had not come here wanting to make Bucky feel better or more human. He just didn't like the way he looked.

He didn't like the way he looked at all. It reminded him too much of how he felt when he came back. Trouble is? Tony threw himself into his work. What can Bucky do?

Nothing. He's got nothing. "So how do you want to account for that."

It makes sense. He thinks. Finding out more about who he had been before Hydra might be a good start. He just has to convince himself that it's worth finding out about James Barnes and it's worth figuring out if that's actually him.

"Kill the ones that are left," he mutters, expression dark and his metal arm whirs unpleasantly when he tries to curl his hand into a fist. Will that make him feel more human?

"Careful with that."

The arm? The thoughts?

"Darkness can swallow you up. And no one is going to be around wipe your mind after if you do something that you don't like." Bucky has Tony's full attention. His eyes never leave the younger man's face.

"And revenge? Not as healing as you'd think. I know this sounds insane and cliche but forgiveness? That's better. Not that you should forgive those bastards. Let me fix your arm before you go vigilante though."

He assumes that Tony means the arm just because that's what the man has been fawning over almost since they'd met.

"They aren't going to be around to wipe anyone else either," Bucky responds flatly. Talking him out of that one isn't going to be easy.

His head tilts, eyes on Tony, "You came to get revenge for Howard tonight. Do you forgive me?"

Tony arches an eyebrow and then shakes his head. "You don't blame a weapon," he says. "You blame the person that handled the weapon." And he didn't know who that was. It could have been anyone. SHIELD was so infiltrated that it's impossible to know who was giving orders to whom.

What he does know is that Bucky was command oriented.

He was the gun, the missile, the bomb.

So while you might not blame the weapon...you can turn it on it's masters. Tony's smile fades. "Take a nap. I'll sober up. I'll get you fixed."

Edited 2014-04-27 00:51 (UTC)

"I'm just weapon," he repeats, because like it or not Tony is as close to a handler as Bucky is going to get right now and he best start watching how he phrases things or this could go really poorly.

He has, at least, gotten enough to eat but even if he hadn't he would still listen to Tony. It's easier to not think about things and just do as he's told. It's what he does now. He nods at the other man and this time he pulls off his shoes before returning to the bed he'd woken up on. He assumes that's okay.

For a moment, he eyes Tony and then he rolls to the side that's against the wall. It's harder to sneak up on him this way. His eyes close a few seconds later and it's obviously hard for him to wind down but it's an order, so he manages to finally fall asleep.

Were, Tony meant, but he doesn't correct him.

He doesn't sleep either. He's not stupid. Luckily, he's got a lot of experience not sleeping under his belt. He doesn't bother to drink, that could cause him to pass out. He just watches Bucky for a long time, watches his phone for a long time, and tries to figure out what to do.

He's not good at saving people. He could hardly even save himself. How can he do anything with Public Enemy Number One?

Unless he calls Steve.

But if he calls Steve, his new best friend is going to come tottering after too. The super hero community is getting too big for Tony Stark.

So he'll just wait. And brood. Bucky will sleep and he'll be there when he wakes.

He sleeps well enough. He won't have any complaints about it, not that he would anyway, but it's sleep and sleep in a place he's not liable to be attacked unless Tony changes his mind. It's been awhile since he's managed it so unless Tony wakes him it'll definitely be few hours before Bucky stirs again.

When he wakes up, he runs through what he knows. His name. Steve. The events leading up to now. Tony. He remembers everything since the Helicarrier and it's a relief. He sits up, still in the robe and looks to Tony for directions.

Taking care of other people is something that Tony Stark has never done so when it becomes obvious that Bucky is waiting for a word from him, the genius balks. "No. No. I'm too young to be your father. Or anyone's father. Legally."

He probably has some bastards running around. Pepper likely paid off their mothers with giant trust funds.

"And I don't need a pet. I have JARVIS. And DUM-E."

But...

"If you're still hungry there's food left. Or we can just go. Back to New York. Or I can call Prince Charming."

His forehead creases at the statement. What does any of that have to so with anything? He's well aware the man is not his father. His head tilts at the pet comment and he looks confused, before he says, "I'm not a pet. I'm a weapon."

You said so yourself Tony.

Bucky does stand and go back to the food. He's still starving and he hates to waste food. He doesn't say anything one way or another. It's not his decision to make. He doesn't know what New York has to do with anything either but he just stares at Tony while he eats.

"Maybe a little bit of both. I sort of want to scratch behind your ears and find a ticklish spot." He was almost offering himself up to be smacked, but it didn't take a genius to realize what was happening with Bucky. He was sort of like a little baby duck. It was probably written into his programing. After a wipe, he listened to anyone that took charge of him.

Shit. That was some pretty crazy stuff.

Tony found a bagel and some honey and sat down with Bucky. He didn't stare back, but he did watch him. "You don't have to be a weapon soon," he said. "I promise you that as soon as we make sure your last bosses are all gone, I'll set you out to stud."

No smacking from him. Pierce had regularly had something snappy to say in his presence. It's nothing new to him. Bucky isn't really the laughing or smiling sort either so Tony just gets a blank look from him. He's welcome to say whatever he wants really.

The comment confuses him. He doesn't understand what that means. Bucky wets his lips as he looks at Tony and presses them together, before he says, "I don't know how to be anything but a weapon."

He's not sure what being 'set out to stud' means but once people had outlived their usefulness in Pierce's eyes they had died horribly, usually by his hand. It's not a fate he's fond of but what else is there?

"So you'll take classes or something," Tony says, off the cuff. He's not exactly fit to be a good teacher of how to be normal and fit into human society. In fact? He's probably the worst person to be around right now. Tony does what he wants, he has no discipline and obviously he's a loose canon right now!

Who goes off to kill someone and instead carries them home like a little lost puppy (after shooting them in the back?)

Clearly, Tony needs some help here.

"Take up knitting or underwater welding." Man. He misses that suit. He looks thoughtfully over at the one in the corner. "Hell, be Iron Man." At least that could be exciting.

The answer really doesn't impress Bucky. None of those suggestions sound like something he wants to do. His gaze shifts to follow Tony's to the suit in the corner and he frowns slightly, he doesn't know exactly what 'Iron Man' is but he doesn't need a suit to be dangerous.

It'd just be trading one weapon for another one.

He doesn't say anything just chews more of his food. He scowls at his metal hand when he reaches for his glass of water and the fingers hang up. He's forced to put down his silverware to pick it up instead. After a moment of hesitation, he adds, "I doubt anyone wants to hang out with a murderer." He looks a little like he might get in trouble for saying anything but he's testing the waters.

"Just eccentric geniuses and old war heroes," Tony replies before he stands up to get his tools. He should have stayed a simple mechanic. He hadn't exactly been a happier man, but he had felt more like a man. More down to earth. More needed.

He still thought about that kid sometimes. He still thought about going to see him. He never would.

Tony spent the next few hours in silence, working on tech he didn't design but secretly wished he had.

It takes him a moment to relate the descriptions to Tony and probably Steve, respectively. Bucky doesn't say anything in response. He's short on words right now. He's still uncomfortable as Tony works on the arm. It helps that there aren't anything resembling restraints or shock panels.

He's just as quiet as Tony and stares at the wall across from them. He makes a face a couple times when the man does something that feels unpleasant but he won't move until Tony tells him that he's allowed.

"So it's connected into your nervous system?" He doesn't mean to sound so fanboyish but this is a piece of art. "I dabbled in medical applications of technology but not prosthetics. Probably not a far leap from the suit but-- Nerve connection is amazing." He does try to be kinder after that. It's less sparks and more tenderness, if one can be tender around a cybernetic limb.

Closing up the panel just below the elbow joint, Tony sits back and points to the knife Bucky had been more or less ignoring while he ate.

"See if that helps."

"How do you think I control it?" he asks in return, confused by how it would work otherwise. It hadn't been a fun process but that could be because Hydra hadn't exactly cared that he'd been in pain or awake for it. He can respect that it is amazing but it's something he's so used to he barely thinks about it.

He frowns slightly, usually they run him through a set of movements to calibrate it, and unfortunately he doesn't remember what they would be. "Not calibrated," he mutters, spreading the fingers of his hand wide and then curling it into a fist as he tries to remember what they had done for his dexterity. He opens his hand again and touches each finger to his thumb, then moves it to pick up the knife. It works considerably better than it had before.

"Lots of prosthetic implants don't accept signals from the limb, just receive them," Tony pointed out. He liked the way Bucky snarked at him, it made him not quite likable in all the best of ways..

He watched the other man go through his routine and shook his head, calling JARVIS to set up a new calibration plan to display on the wall from the cellphone Tony placed on the table. He could go through tweaking Bucky's movements as they went, one servo at a time.

"Try to overextend one finger at a time-- Ah! Okay, that's the problem," he muttered, tightening some wiring a few moments later.

"I wouldn't know," he responds simply, shrugging at Tony's response and trying to decide if he had known anything about other prosthetic implants before this. He doesn't think so. Nothing but your basic fake arms and legs anyway. The world has come a long way since then.

His head tilts slightly at the calibration maneuvers but he goes through with them. He's patient as Tony adjusts things too. He doesn't say anything but non-committal status comments or saying when something feels strange.

Once they're finished, he decides this is the best his arm has felt in a long time and he reaches for the knife again without problems. "Feels good," he tells him quietly.

Tony just laughed. "I told you. I'm the best." He found himself barely registering that Bucky was even going for a potentially deadly object. He just stood and left his back open to the other man as he gazed out of the window.

So much had happened here over the last few weeks. All of his secrets had hit the internet, anything SHIELD had compiled on him, all of his shared tech, his files...everything was out there.

He felt as if he himself was running too. Running away, not towards, himself.

"What do you most want in the entire world, soldier?" He asked, falling silent.

He only raises an eyebrow at the comment. He believes it because Tony has no reason to lie to him and he's obviously very good with technology. There are only a few people in the world that are probably qualified to work on his arm. He just wishes it hadn't took murder to get Tony to fix it.

He doesn't move from his spot. Bucky isn't going to hurt Tony.

"I don't know," he responds quietly, expression confused and just... sad. He has no aspirations. No dreams. Nothing. He's a weapon in his mind, not a person. "Rewind the clock and make sure I died in the ice." He remembers ice and falling and being dragged through it, just in flashes but they're there.

Pierce had fed him so many lies. A gift to mankind, he'd said. Bucky doesn't believe that anymore. He's a useless weapon. One that should be discarded. "The world would be a better place without me."

"I feel that way sometimes too," Tony said, still looking out of the window. "But I can't bend time. I don't even approve of suicide. Not even for bad drivers."

The smile was in his voice, even if Bucky couldn't see it.

"How about something I can actually give you. A puppy? A girl? A boy if that's what does it for you? Trip to Paris?"

No one can bend time and give him the time he had lost. No one can fix this. He's just a broken weapon without a trigger and at best just a plaything to amuse a dead man. Bucky doesn't want anything that Tony can give him. He gave up wanting things seventy years ago when Hydra played with his brain. He's probably better off dead but apparently Tony won't give him that either. Otherwise he'd already be dead.

"I don't know," he says again and he wishes that he had an answer for him but he just doesn't. He doesn't know how to be free. He's fairly certain that sex isn't the answer to his problems either.

Sex was absolutely the answer to every problem! Or maybe the start. Or both.

Turning from the window when he realized that Bucky was not going to attack him, Tony smirked and plopped down at the table. He put his feet up on it, toes up, heels down. His table, his dirt. They were done eating anyway.

"You need...a purpose. Fine. Probably a parent. There's a TV and the internet at your disposal. That's how people parent these days. We've got to reinsert you into this world. I don't have the time and energy to return you to the deep freeze."

Well, for Bucky it definitely wasn't the answer but he could certainly see how it might be the start. It wasn't something he was interested in. He didn't have those urges, at least that he knew, and he stared again at Tony as the man flopped down.

His gaze shifts to the TV in the room. He knows what it is and what Tony means by the internet but he doesn't know how much importance either hold to him. He's listless. Lost in a world without a purpose. Television isn't going to magically create something.

He flinches slightly at the mention of being frozen, eyes widening marginally and he says automatically, "I'll do what you say."

Tony frowned at Bucky and tilted his chin down to his chest. "It wasn't a threat," he said gently. What would Banner do at a time like this? What would Steve do? Or Pepper?

It wasn't an option to call anyone. Even if he wanted to. What would Pepper or Bruce do?

He slumped in his seat and scowled lightly. He needed some time to himself. Instead, now he had to watch this puppy. Erring on the side of caution was not going to work.

"J. Put on CNN. And get me Banner."

It takes a few moments for his expression and breathing to even out. Does he believe Tony? He doesn't know, not for sure, but the man had fixed his arm without killing him and he hasn't tried to wipe him again. It's as much trust as he feels like doling out right now.

He jerks a little when the TV is suddenly just on. Surprising him is probably a bad idea. Bucky tilts his head to see the screen from where he's sitting and hesitates, before grabbing his water to carry to the bed. He sits at the very end of it. Tony had said watch TV right? He doesn't ignore the man on the phone but he doesn't give an indication he's listening either.

"Tony?" the man had obviously been asleep. He wipes a hand at his face, "Where are you? What time it is?" He fumbles for the alarm clock. Bruce doesn't know what time it is either. Sometimes he sleeps a lot.

Tony wasn't going to hang around to be listened to. He headed to the bathroom instead. He probably shouldn't leave Bucky alone, but what were his choices? He was pretty sure that the other man was loyal to him anyhow. Testing that out couldn't hurt.

"I got a new pet, Banner," Tony groaned. "I'm in DC and..." And what? Bruce had fled the moment SHIELD leaked his identity to the media. Tony knew where to find him, obviously, but he was trying to give the other man his space to deal with his demons. "The guy that killed Fury... And my parents. I found him. He....uh...doesn't remember half of it. They were wiping him between missions, putting him on ice. It's fucked up, Banner."

Bucky would actually behave and sit there, just taking in the news. And maybe being confused by commercials.

Lucky for Tony, Bruce is patient as he rambles around and tries to follow along. He's been in the wind. He doesn't have a lot of times for news and what's going on but he's pretty sure everyone in the world has heard about SHIELD.

Bruce, before he tries to sort things out, says, "It's Hydra, I don't think they come in other versions." He sits up in bed and wipes a hand at his face again then asks the next most obvious question. "I'm guessing you didn't just take a walk and stumble on him."

It wasn't just SHIELD that everyone had heard about. It was everyone. Everything. Tony's designs were out there. His company was hemorhaging money left and right. He had nothing left here but a vendetta and some scrap metal and now that he no longer wanted the former, he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"I couldn't do it. I wanted to. Jesus, Banner, I wanted to do badly. But he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't even know who he is. It seemed...cruel."

So he took him home, got room service...patched him up?

Yeah, he knew it sounded crazy.

"I need some help here. He's barely human."

Bruce is patient as he listens to the man ramble about everything that's happened so far. He honestly isn't sure what Tony wants him to tell him. It isn't like he has experience with this sort of thing.

"You know I'm not that kind of doctor," Bruce replies with a shake of his head. "He needs someone that's actually qualified to talk to him. So you took him home? Why didn't you call Steve?"

"Steve is going to take him away."

Tony knows that this is an extremely, poorly timed issue. He was not in the right mind set to take care of anyone and his reasons for taking care of Bucky were probably the worst imaginable. He knows it. In a way, he wants Bruce to talk him out of it. Why else would he had called?

"I'm going to turn him over. But not yet. I just need some advice that isn't go to Captain America."

"Why shouldn't he?" Bruce reasons, frowning at Tony on the phone. "He knows Bucky better than anyone right?"

His head tilts slightly, "Why don't you want to give him up?"

Bruce doesn't necessarily need an answer but he is curious. He also says, "Without seeing him in person I couldn't tell you what he needs for sure. Treat him like a person. Hydra didn't, he was nothing to them. Let him make choices. Encourage him to remember things. However, I still think you should call Steve. Unless you can tell me why it's important that you don't."

He knew he ought to have not called. Tony frowned at the wall until his face hurt before he thought about hanging up. "Thanks for the advice, Banner. Don't forget to boil the water before you drink it."

He didn't want to have to explain himself. Bruce would get a dial tone to sigh to as Tony flushed the toilet and then headed back out to Bucky as he tilted his head like a puppy at the television during a commercial about some sort of new cooking gadget.

"Hey. Uh. Listen. How do you feel about Steve Rogers?"

Bruce does sigh because he doesn't know what answer the other man had been looking for but it was never going to be the right one. Bruce doesn't exactly know what to do either. Steve had been his best advice. He's not clear on what the point is with Tony keeping him. He makes a mental note to check in a few days from now.

Bucky is still in front of the TV. They've been talking about Hydra quite a bit. People that had been in Pierce's pocket for years that are still missing. They mention him once or twice but nobody seems to know what to make of him. Which is okay. He doesn't know either. Commercials always interrupt important things and they're just... weird. Why wouldn't you just use a knife to slice a banana?

His attention shifts when Tony speaks and he presses his lips together. It's complicated. He shakes his head and helpfully responds, "I don't know."

That wasn't the answer he was looking for. It wasn't an answer at all. Pressing his lips together, Tony observed Bucky with a frankly annoyed look. "First thing that comes to mind when you think about him then?"

How can he ever help Bucky to think for himself? He felt like he was in a bad rendition of Pretty Woman. Only Bucky was no Julia Roberts with those boots that went on forever.

"You have to help me help you. Focus."

He stares at Tony and his annoyed look in confusion--he had answered him. It's not his fault the answer hadn't matched what he'd expected. Bucky warily watches the other man, concerned he's about to be punished and says instead, "Mission."

It's the first thing that comes to mind. It's one of those things that's ingrained to his bones. The order makes his forehead crease. He is focusing. "And..." he searches for the word he wants before he says, "And alarm. He made me remember." Bucky wet the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't supposed to remember."

Worst Rorschach test ever. Tony wiped a hand down his face and sighed through his nose with utter annoyance. It wasn't poor Bucky's fault. He knew that. Knew that and didn't give a fuck either. Plopping down beside the trained homicidal killer, Tony stretched out and tried again.

"Remembering is a good thing now," he said as gently as possible. "A very good thing. The best thing. So. Uh. Let's not think about Steve as a mission. Let's focus on remembering who you use to be. Steve's a big part of that, right? Listen. I'm not going to always be here to tell you what to do so we have to teach you how to give yourself orders."

Is that wrong too? Tony is acting like it's wrong. Bucky is doing his best here but he just looks more confused as the other man plops down on the bed. His gaze follows him though he doesn't really move at all. He just breathes, slow and even and through his nose as he tries to make sense of things.

Remembering is a good thing. He repeats it in his head a few times in the hopes that it sticks properly. "I think so, but I don't..." he cuts himself off and shakes his head. He knows Tony doesn't like him to say he doesn't know so he won't. "He thinks so. That exhibit thinks so."

His head tilts toward Tony--giving himself orders? "How?"

How? Is this how kindergarten teachers felt when their students ate paste? Tony wanted to strangle someone. Mostly himself. Who told him that this was a good idea?!

Licking his lips, Tony tried to start small. "Okay, so, you just...think about what you want. Or right, you have no idea what you want. Great. So. Instead of that, let's start small. Get dressed. We're going out in the big wide world where they don't approve of wearing robes."

Bucky thinks it would be more conducive if he just strangled him but that's another thing entirely. Hydra hadn't taught him to take care of himself and had taken his choices from him. What had he really expected when he'd gone looking?

He stands up to go into the bathroom to get his clothes. His filthy clothes. Bucky strips off the robe before he's even to the bathroom. Hopefully Tony doesn't mind what he had been wearing but he kind of doesn't own anything else.

They were going to rectify that. Bucky just wouldn't fit into anything Tony kept laying around. Not even his t-shirts. He had no idea how these men from the 40s managed to maintain such a massive amount of muscles after so long in deep freeze--

How annoying.

Bucky stunk to high heaven but it couldn't be helped. Tony called for a car with a driver, so he could keep an eye on Bucky at all times and directed the man towards the higher end boutiques. Marching a homeless hobo into an Bruckheimers' was more amusing than anything Tony had experienced in his life...until he remembered Pretty Woman.

And then he just felt old.

It isn't terribly concerned with his clothes or how he smells. He doesn't think about it because he's never been taught to care. He had taken showers when they had said and sometimes he'd woken up clean out of the freezer. He tries not to think about what he remembers.

He is nearly silent as he follows Tony down to the car. Bucky doesn't do seatbelts either. He sits still and mostly just stares ahead of him, though on occasion he forces himself to look out the window at the world.

When they get to the store, he stops dead at the entrance. There are no other exits. None that he can see. None he is comfortable assuming are just there at least. There might be a back door but he doesn't know. He glances warily at Tony; he doesn't like this.

Bucky has no idea what Pretty Woman is either so unless Tony wants to explain, he best keep quiet about it.

Having dealt with Steve Rogers and his lack of knowledge of popular culture, Tony would in no way bring up anything he had to explain to Bucky. Learned that lesson already. The winter soldier was a hassle. Bruce had been right about taking him to Rogers but now Tony just had to be stubborn.

It wasn't exactly about winning...but it kind of was.

He gave Bucky a little push to get him into the store and turned his charm on towards the women, eyebrows lifting suggestively. "Do I have a project for you guys!" he announced, flashed around his smile and platinum card and moved aside to let other people do his work.

The push is not appreciated and Bucky gives the other man a look but he complies because he's not in a place in his head where he's comfortable with protesting just yet. He eyes the front of the store and the door to the back again, before focusing on Tony. Everything that happens next is basically met with a wide-eyed deer stare as they start to get his measurements. The only thing he won't let them near is his metal arm. He doesn't register any of them as a threat but he's paranoid. He gives Tony a few wary looks as they start to bring him things to try on.

The problem arises when they start asking him questions about his favorite colors and styles of things. He just stares at them silently. It's a little awkward but he doesn't have an answer.

"Remember what I said about giving yourself orders?" Tony called, mostly because he could see Bucky was starting to struggle and that was giving him such massive issues. He just...clammed right on up. And that helped absolutely no one.

He shooed off a pretty thing who had too many buttons of her blouse undone and headed back over to where Bucky looked less than pleased about everything.

"Even if you don't have a favorite color, pick one. There's only so many. Small choices will help you out in the long run, buddy."

This isn't exactly what he would consider 'orders' technically but he can see, at least, where Tony is coming from. It doesn't make it less of a struggle but he does understand. He frowns slightly at what the man says and eyes the colors the women are holding. What color?

"Red," he says finally. He considers blue but he's worried he'll just see Steve's eyes in everything and he's really not fond of that idea.

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ugh sorry I thought this posted.

no worries

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