It was supposed to be a routine heist.

There was information that Val hadn’t cleaned up; there was an organization in the hills of Sweden that still had some of her work for sentry, and they were sent off to go get it and burn the place to the ground.

Due to his very existence being the cause of the mission, Bob was left at home in New York. it was safer that way.

Yelena and Bucky took one side of the room, Alexei and John split and went to the other ends solo, and Ava went to retrieve and set the bomb.

It was smooth, right up until he stumbled into a trap. Which, in hindsight, was so obvious that they were waiting to pounce. 

They hit him with an elephant tranquilizer and dragged him off, calling someone on their way, saying they got what they needed before he watched the place set on fire, the sound of his team laughing and talking in his comms as he got hauled off into the back of the truck. 

He couldn’t form words or move to try and hit his comms, so he lay there in the back of the van, limp as hot tears spilled down his face, listening to them ask where he was before Ava’s voice cut out, leaving him alone.

“Ready to speak yet, Agent?”

John didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, instead just gritting his teeth and looking ahead, acutely aware of the blood collecting on his eyelid from the cut on his temple.

“The drugs should work soon, I would assume they are not as fast acting due to your… condition, so let’s start there.”

He pulled out a notepad, sitting down and crossing his legs like it was some fucking normal thing to have a person bound by steel traps in front of you.

“Let’s talk about the serum, do you feel it has worked?”

“Define worked.”

He sneered, still trying to fight off the drug that was coursing through his blood like a poison, 

“Ah, he speaks. I was beginning to wonder if they cut your tongue out, agent. So glad to see you still function.”

“Can’t move for shit so I don’t think that I do, who fucking knows anyways.”

The man wrote something on his pad, nodding like it was some new revelation, 

“Do you think your serum will heal  up the broken bones?”

“I don’t think. I know. By experience.”

He hummed, writing down more. John really wanted to rip that stupid pad out of his hands.

“And I assume you are not worried about any long-term effects of the breaking?”

“Haven’t had any yet.”

“Yes, I know that physically, but what about mentally? And emotionally?”

“What?”

The doctor clicked his pen shut before uncrossing his legs just to fold his hands over his knees, smiling like he was about to announce he’d found the cure to cancer, 

“Oh, Agent. Did no one tell you? We are going to break your spirit, bring you to the lowest you can possibly go and then go further. And only then, once you are nothing but a shell of the man you once were, can we use you to your fullest potential,”

He reached out, snatching John’s chin and holding it tight, turning his head side to side as if he was eyeing a prize, 

“And oh, what wonderful potential you will have at that point. Possibly useful, unlike you are now. Yes?”

John chuckled, clearly confused the man as he let go of his jaw with a raised eyebrow, 

“Good luck, there’s nothing much to work with as far as spirit goes.”

The man looked him up and down, humming in interest.

“We shall see. Perhaps this will be faster than we’d assumed, then.”

“Didn’t say I was gonna be easy dumb fuck. I said there’s nothing there to break. You can’t break what is broken, so you can’t mold me into the little puppet you so desperately want either.”

He chuckled, God honest, Chuckled at John’s statement, before standing up, walking over to the table to put on a pair of gloves, 

“Perhaps this will be more fun than I could have anticipated.”

He walked over with a syringe, before taking a chunk of John’s hair and pulling his head back to expose his neck, shoving the needle in hard before injecting him. 

John felt the effects instantly, the way his blood began to burn, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He didn’t show a single reaction, not willing to back down.

“You are incorrect, by the way, Agent. You have spirit. Far too much of it. It won’t last, I will make sure of that.”

Echo, Echo, goes the regret in his head.

He was thinking about Lemar again. When isn't he?

Lemar was so good, so kind. He was…

Well, everything John used to be. Lemar took that version of John with him to the grave. He hopes they’re running around having a blast somewhere.

Echo, Echo, goes the regret in his head.

He was a little harsh with Bob the last time he saw him, something about the dishwasher, he doesn’t remember what it was, he just remembers Bob saying he was an asshole.

Which, fair. He is one. Not by choice, but a product of his environment.

He was going to apologize, he really was. But then…. Well, Bob is better off never seeing him again anyway.

Echo, Echo-

Bucky was getting tired of him, too. Getting? Bucky was always tired of him. Has been since the minute they met. He was right, all those years ago, about John not being enough. Not good enough, not fit enough, not strong enough, not.. Enough. 

He should have just handed the shield in there and then been done with it.

Echo, Echo

Yelena refused to talk to him on the field because Bob had told her he was mean. Fair, he wasn’t really even sure why she talked to him to begin with. It was disorienting not having his widow to depend on for instructions, but he did deserve the cold shoulder.

Echo, Echo

Alexei was tired of him, too; he was sure of that. The man tried to be positive, but he’d heard him asking Yelena if he was always that sour.

He wasn’t. Not years ago. But he was now. 

Echo, Echo

He still isn’t sure what Ava sees in him. He’s not sure she sees anything in him. He’s glad that this will take him out of her life before he fucks up and hurts her like he has everyone else.

He's tired of the echoes.

John felt like his body was going to fall apart from how hard he was shaking. He remained as silent as possible, his jaw locked shut as he felt the course of electricity hit him again, forcing the currents through his already torn nerves. 

It was hell. 

Or maybe worse than hell, John wasn’t sure; he hadn’t gotten there yet.

“End,”

The electricity stopped, and his body fell hard against the cold floor as he gagged, throwing up bile.

If you get hit enough times by an electrical current, you end up throwing up all your stomach acid, who knew?

Well, he did now.”

“Willing to share yet?”

He lay there gasping, far too zoned out to care about the fact that he definitely was going to roll into the bile pile at some point. 

“Subject continues to hold to his guns, he refuses to speak on is team, will not share anything about the Winter Soldier. Continue with the breaking.”

He can’t help the tired whine that escaped his throat as he is hauled up by his forearms, roughly thrown into the seat again before being restrained again, 

“We move to truth serum, giving his body a chance to recoup.”

He looked to the men behind him, nodding once, 

“Begin,”

He didn’t bother begging them not to give him the horrible drug; by now he just knew how it would go if he did.

He’d beg, they’d sneer, then shove it in harder, laugh at him and mock his pleas.

He took it with a flinch as they shoved the needle into his throat. Waiting for it to settle before they locked the collar on, holding him still as he could while his nerves realigned. 

“State your name.”

“Jonathan Fitzgerald Walker.”

“State your Date of Birth,”

“September 19th, 1988.”

“State your purpose.”

“I have none.”

“State your friends' purposes.”

“I have none.”

The doctor hummed, looking to him with a raised brow as he pulled out the pad, 

“Tell me, do you not consider your team your friends?”

“No. it’s not me, I just know they don’t consider me a friend.”

The doctor sat in his chair, crossing his legs as he pulled out his pen, writing something down, 

“Is that so? What are you to the New Avengers if you don’t mind my asking?”

“An asset.”

“Interesting. What is Winter Soldier?”

“Winter Soldier is dead.”

“Subject is still referring to the Soldier as Bucky-”

“Oh fuck off with that, he is Bucky. He’s always been Bucky, he was never the fucked up shit you tried to create him into-”

His tirade was cut off by the shock that tore through him, his voice breaking into a strangled cry as it caught him off guard. It went for ten seconds till it stopped, leaving him slumped forward as much as his restraints would allow, 

“Good to see you have fight left in you, Agent. It means we have more work to do.”

He looked at the men behind John, nodding to them again before they tipped the chair back, making it into a table. John felt panic bubble up into his chest as he saw them begin to pull the tools out again, but he bit down on the cry that tried to escape,

“Begin.”

He feels most himself when he’s asleep.

His dreams used to be torturous; they are of a life he won’t live now.

Not to say he doesn’t dream of Lemar’s death every now and again, or of the war torn world that he inhabited for so long. Sure he still dreams of all that.

But most of his dreams are of movie nights spent arguing over the remote.

They’re of bickering that ends in compliments. Or long nights spent over a pot of coffee talking about life. They’re days on the beach spent reading beside her as she hums and leans into him. They’re of nights in the kitchen cooking beside a mop of brown curls while there are others laughing and talking about their days.

It’s of a family that was never his to begin with, but he enjoyed every moment invading their lives.

“Begin.”

John is panting, hardly able to catch a breath as the water is dripping down his face. Waterboarding, as it turns out, is terrifying.

They thrusted him into the chair, he limply complied as they fastened him in and inject him, mentioning he was such a good boy for not fighting.

He’s not sure why that makes his skin itch the way it does.

“State your name,”

“Walker, John.”

“State your date of birth.”

“September, 1988.”

“State your purpose.”

“I have none.”

“State your friend's purpose.”

“No.”

“And this is where we stop every day, is it not boring to you? Do you not wish to move ahead?”

John blankly stares ahead, refusing to think about the fact that he’s definitely going to throw up in a few hours. 

“What is the names of the New Avengers?”

“Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Ava Starr, Bucky Barnes.”

“Who is Bob?”

He bites down on his tongue, blood spilling out of his mouth to handicap himself from saying anything more. It’s the only thing he can do to stop the truth serum. It also pisses the man off, so it’s a win win.

“Oh really- again? Why must you always do this?”

He sighs, standing up to walk around the room, waiting for the serum to heal his tongue.

“You know, it would be so much easier for you if you just talked. Hmm? You would not have to take part in our trials, in fact you’d be long done if you would just talk to us. Tell us who Bob is, how to find the Soldier, give us details on the Ghost, on Belova, and Shostakov. Your life would be much easier if you gave up your loyalty.”

John gritted his teeth, swallowing some of the blood. Well, if he wasn’t going to throw up before, he sure as hell will now.

“Tell me, Agent, is your loyalty because you are waiting for them?”

That got a laugh out of John, a genuine laugh. 

“You think they’re coming back for me?”

There was a silent beat, and the Doctor turned to look at his subject, 

“You do not?”

“Nah. They’re not coming for me.”

He said, chuckling as he looked up at the doctor who was now standing over him where he sat, dripping wet from the waterboarding and blood still cascading down his lips onto his neck from his tongue.

“What makes you so sure of this, Agent? Are you not their friend?”

“I’m an asset. A good one, sure. I fight hard, I can withstand a shit ton but their friend? They don’t see me as a friend. I’m not Bob. I’m not Lena, I’m no one. Just a good asset.”

He hates how hollow the words sound as they come out of his lips, knowing that deep down inside, this is how he’s felt for a long time. The serum just… amplifies that.

“Interesting. We may just break you yet.”

John was too tired to care what that meant, all he knew was the doctor waved them close again before waving to his body, 

“Take his nails. See how long it takes to grow them back. Begin.”

His dreams smell like cherrywood and orange zest. He wishes he could bury his nose in her neck again.

It took three days.

John was back in the chair, wavering back and forward as they locked him in place, placing the drug in his neck before leaning him back to put the collar on to keep him in place.

He was sure his neck looked like he’d been kissed to hell by a hooker who had a thing for hickeys at this point. And he must have said it out loud considering the fact that one of the guards looked at him before chuckling despite himself. 

Good, his humor was still intact. A win is a win.

“Good afternoon Agent,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

The hummed, before sitting down crossing his legs as he clicked his pen, 

“Begin. State your name,”

“John.”

“State your date of birth.”

“September.”

“State your purpose.”

“None.”

“State your friend’s purpose.”

“I have none.”

“Who is the Winter Soldier.”

“He’s dead.”

“What is the Avengers motives.”

“Save the world.”

“And what is your friends motives.”

“I have none.”

“State the new Avengers names.”

“Ava. Lena. Bucky. Lexei,”

“Who is Bob.”

He bit down on his tongue. And the Doctor hummed, writing down something as John spat his blood out of his mouth, pride ebbing its way into his chest as he watched the crimson splatter on the man’s fancy white pants.

“Subject has started to lose full memory of names and dates.  Still will not speak about Bob. will not speak of the soldier. Will not give motives. We move to a new tactic.”

He stood up, before walking over calmly to take John’s jaw in his hand, turning his head back and forth as if eyeing his prize.

“You will learn to comply.”

John looked him definitely in the eye, before spitting as much blood as possible on his shirt. 

The man looked disgusted before looking to the men behind John, 

“You may resume breaking him. I will not be able to speak with him for some time, however. Break his Jaw. track how long it takes to heal.”

It’s raining, he only knows that because he can smell it in the air.

He’s sitting in the corner of his cell, tied foot and hand, the weights of his chains and restraints keeping him firmly planted on the ground. 

He’s forgotten what rain feels like, is it cold or warm? He doesn’t remember. He remembers he used to like how it felt. On his face and his skin. Or maybe that’s someone else memory.

He remembers someone looking up and letting the rain fall on their face, laughing at the feeling. 

He doesn’t remember the sound of the laugh, just the soundless look of someone laughing as they let it fall in their eyes and mouth. 

He hummed softly to himself, a tune he can’t remember how he knows, but it helps keep the shaking in his chest at bay.

He can’t hear today. He actually hasn’t really been able to hear much for the past week. Or see that well. Sensory deprivation or whatever the hell it was. He forgets.

He forgets a lot.

He’s held onto them, though, not because he thinks they remember him. He’s sure they don’t. But it does make the torture easier to get through to remember them. 

His Jaw is wired shut still. He can still feel the pain radiating through him of them breaking it. 

He’s started to wonder if he’ll starve to death, but then remembers that he’s on day 27 without food, day 17 without water, and he’s just shy 3 days without sleep. 

They won’t let him. 

He starts to fall asleep, and they wake him up.

So instead, he hums. He can feel it deep in his chest, the vibrations that tickle his ribcage. He can hear his muffled sounding voice, and is hoping at some point it comes back altogether. 

Or not. Then at least he’d have a reason to avoid answering the questions.”

He doesn’t hear the gunshots. He doesn’t hear the sounds of death rattling the air.

He smells the gun-smoke, but he isn’t sure why.

It mixes with the rain smell really well. Like a memory.

He did hear the sound of his cell opening. He’s trained his ear to hear that.

And he does sense someone is standing there watching him.

He continues to hum, it doesn’t bother them. Or at least he has never been slapped when they come into him humming, or when they haul him out and he’s still humming.

He thinks that she used to hum this song. Or perhaps sing it. He just remembers her face every time he hums it.

It makes him feel safe. He knows he’s not, but to imagine he is, is nice.

There are a pair of small hands over his wrists, and he can’t stop his body from flinching the way he does at how cold her hands are. He can feel her skin, which is odd because they all wear gloves. Especially after the radiation poisoning he’s done.

He continues to hum, more so to calm himself as he feels his heart pounding out of his chest. 

The person smells like cherrywood and orange zest.

Like her.

Oh. he must be getting ready to sleep. Maybe he will be allowed this time. That would be nice.

Her hands are shaking over his, and he feels her undo his restraints. That’s new. They never do that. 

Lately, they’ve taken to just dragging him through the halls by his arms, letting him drag along.

He doesn’t walk much anymore. Not after they broke his back three ways. He hasn’t fully healed yet, that’s what they’re saying. He doesn’t think he ever will. That’s alright. 

The person is yelling, and slowly, he starts to zone back into the present. 

He focused his eyes, looking right at the figure in front of him, holding on hard to make out who this was, only to see her. Squatting down in front of him, her shaking hands going from his wrists to his face, holding it gently, 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing her in before letting go of a shaky sigh, desperate to hold to the ghost for as long as she would last.

He focused hard to try and hear what she was saying. he heard her shout again, and his body reacted, flinching at the noise before she whipped around, and said something, her mouth moving and a muffled sound coming out, but he couldn’t make out what it was. 

Her gorgeous eyes were wide, she looked so scared, and she was crying. 

That isn’t what his dreams are like, she’s always smiling. He hates to see her upset, but selfishly, he’d rather have her sad and here than happy and not close enough to reach. 

She feels so real as he leans is head into her hands, pressing his one cheek into her palm as she brings their foreheads together, her salty tears spilling onto his cheeks 

He can hear her muffled sobs, and he wishes he could wrap his arms around her and make her feel better. 

He can’t so he does what he can, the only thing that brings him comfort. 

He hums. The same song he remembers she loved. 

She presses her head into his harder, holding his face tight.

It hurts his jaw, and he feels like his head is going to explode. But he doesn’t care. At least he can feel her and smell her this time. 

Other times, she’s never in reach.

There’s the sound of other feet, hard boots thundering into his cell. 

Here they come.

The dream is going to end soon, he knows it. So he takes another deep breath, inhaling her cherrywood and orange zest for one more second longer, committing it to memory. 

Well, memory until the chair.

At least he’ll feel something good today before the chair.

She moves away slowly, but she still leaves him. He knew it would happen, so it doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first time.

This time, he feels a pair of arms under his knees and behind his back as he’s lifted into the air, held close to someone’s chest.

He cries at the pain from be jostled, but his locked jaw prevents it from being too loud. He’s beginning to wonder if they like it better that way. 

They’d stopped asking him questions, now they just bring him in, sit him in the chair, and talk to no one in the room, write things down, and try new things to see how long it takes to heal.

The person holding him doesn’t feel like one of them, he feels safe. He smells like gunpowder and Old Spice, but he feels like home. 

He leans into the body without thinking twice, exhaling slow. If this is the end, at least he’s going to go somewhere safe.

Even if they are taking him to his death. 

He can pretend.

They walk out, he can smell the cherrywood follow, but its really the rocking of the way he’s being carried that lulls him to sleep.

He drifts, the sound of laughter reaching his ears before he’s even out all the way. Today, he’ll dream of the beach, he knows it by the way the laughter sounds. 

He’s ok with that being his last dream. It was his first favorite memory.

Echo, Echo, go the laughter in his head.

Echo, Echo, go the memories on repeat.

Maybe it is ok to go to sleep.

Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a routine heist.

There was information that Val hadn’t cleaned up, there was an organization in the hills of Sweden that still had some of her work for sentry, and they were sent off to go get it and burn the place to the ground.

Due to his very existence being the cause of the mission, Bob was left at home in New York. it was safer that way.

Yelena and Bucky took one side of the room, Alexei and John split and went to the other ends solo, and Ava went to retrieve and set the bomb.

Everyone was cranky today, so the banter wasn’t as high on the channels. Bob and John had gotten into a spat in the kitchen, honestly he had no clue what it was about because it was just that, a spat between two friends. John had a quick tongue and Bob got offended easily, these are their quirks. 

They always work it out before the day ends.

The only thing that did kind of piss Bucky off was everyone’s piss party extending into the mission. Yelena was purposely not speaking to John, that was clearly distressing the man because he watched her like the leader. So John, in his distress, was lashing out at the others. Ava was snappy with John for lashing out, and Alexei was taking Yelena’s side in the fight, regardless of knowing what the hell it was about. 

“Alright, we’re gonna go in, get this shit wrapped up and then the minute we are on the jet home we are talking about your little piss party,”

Bucky snapped before sending them all off to their corners. Yelena and John flipped each other off before he turned and looked at Ava, a wordless we are talking about this later coming from them as he nodded to her, waiting for her to do the same before they both stalked off.

Toddlers all of them were toddlers.

It was successful, oddly, there was hardly anyone to fight, but Yelena doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Ava, drop the bomb, we’re out.”

Bucky said in the comms, and a moment later, she appeared by them as the place imploded.

Alexei cheered as he jogged up to them, and Yelena did a headcount.

Alexei was trying to make Bucky give him a high five, Ava was standing beside her watching the fire burn, and John-

“Where’s John?”

Ava snapped her head over, looking at Yelena with horror in her eyes, even though she remained calm on the surface as she reached for her comms. 

“John? Where is your location?”

No response. 

Yelena felt her blood run cold as she reached for her comms, too. 

“Ok John we get it you wanted to make me feel like shit. I don’t, you are still an asshole for what you said to Bob. now come out so we can talk.”

Still, nothing. 

She can see the way Ava goes rigid, taunt like an arrow on a bow, ready to shoot off. Bucky and Alexei had since stopped talking, and Bucky was reaching for his comms too. 

“Walker, report. Where are you located?”

The silence was deafening.

“You-you said everyone was out.”

Ava’s voice was shaky as she looked at all of them, betrayal in her eyes before flipping the mask back on, 

“AVA NO-”

She phased out instantly, going back into the burning building to find him.

“Shit- STARR GET OUT OF THERE YOU ARE GOING TO GET KILLED,”

Bucky shouted on the comms, only to stop in his tracks as they heard Ava screaming for John, desperate to find him.

She phased back with nothing but his shield, her breaths coming up choked sobs as she pointed at Yelena, 

“This is YOUR fault-”

“HOW IS IT MINE-”

“YOU ARE BEING A BITCH TO HIM-”

“WELL HE WAS AN ASSHOLE TO BOB-”

“STAND DOWN. NOW.”

Bucky barked at them, standing between the girls to shove them apart from each other.

Ava screamed in frustration, dropping the shield as she pulled on her short hair, leaving them all in a stunned silence.

Alexei moved before anyone else could, wrapping the tiny woman in his arms as he hushed her cries, whispering comfort to her in Russian as he rubbed her back. Yelena felt the tears bubbling out of her as she turned around, her hands on her hips as she squatted and tried to stop the violent storm from taking over in her mind.

It was her fault. She shouldn’t have carried the fight into the mission, she could have been hard with John afterwards-

“It’s not your fault, Belova. Starr did-”

Bucky inhaled slowly, clearly not wanting to say what he had to as he crossed his arms to try and regain posture.

“Did you see his body in there?”

Ava shook her head no, still crying so hard she was glitching.

“Then maybe he wasn’t in there. Check the surroundings. Everyone split and search now.”

They nodded, Ava and Yelena shared a look before the former phased away and the latter jogged off. Alexei grumbled something, picked up John’s shield, and walked in the opposite direction from his daughter, calling out to John as he went.

Bucky stood for a moment, feeling like he was going to throw up, before he pulled his phone out and made a call. 

“ What do you want, Buck?”

Bucky let go of the shaky sigh he’d been holding in at the sound of Sam’s voice, irritated or not.

“Sam, I think John’s dead.”

“ WHAT-”

“Mission went sideways, we can't find him or his body in the building... The burning building.”

There is silence on the other end, but Bucky can hear him moving, 

“ I’m checking. I’ll send Juaquin on a spin. Where’s the rest of your team?”

He won’t call them the avengers, Bucky doesn't give a fuck.

“Searching the surroundings. Sam I- I don’t feel right about this, something is wrong.”

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. We’ll find him. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay in a burning building, so he’s gotta be somewhere. I’ll call you back, let me get my team out on this.”

He hung up and left Bucky standing, watching, wondering where he’d gone wrong.

It’s fifteen days before Sam gets anything.

None of them have given up on John. Not really.

Ava is stuck in a cycle of grief and fury, lashing out at everyone before completely coming undone and sobbing.

She won’t eat, she won’t sleep, she is barely stable. 

So Bucky does the only thing he thinks may work. It’s a shot in the dark, but willing to waste the bullet.

Hank and Janet are there as soon as the flight from San Fran lands. 

Janet is a soothing force, and Hank understands her more than anyone else could ever possibly imagine.

They convince her to shower and eat, Janet holds her close on the couch and gets her to sleep, and Hank talks her down from the spiral she’s been consumed by. 

“You will find him. Don’t give up.”

He says, holding her face in his hands, like she were his own daughter.

“I can’t breathe anymore, it feels like I’m losing myself.”

She sobbed, he brushed her tears away with his thumbs and nodded before kissing her forehead,

“I know. Don’t let the voices win, kid. Stay here.”

They decide to stay until someone gets word on John, both for the sake of Ava and to help.

Bucky almost feels bad, but the way they just move in sync with each other’s next thought is comforting. They maintain the tower, help get everything back in order, cook for the team, wash and fold laundry, force everyone to sleep regardless of the nightmares that come, and when they do, they handle the fallout of the dreams like it’s Tuesday.

The Pym Van Dynes bring not only stability but also a deep sense of comfort.

By day 15, Sam has tracked down a report from Lithuania of a group of people that took over a run-down building, revamped it, and exactly 13 days prior, they had shown up with a cargo box, removing a tall, reddish blonde man from it before dragging him in kicking and screaming.

They’re gearing up before Sam is even finished explaining the rundown.

They do have a little more to go off of while flying over, but even that is hardly enough. 

The group was using Val’s information to try and create their own sentry, but hadn’t gotten far, so they gave up and took a left turn, deciding to try and nail something else first. Their plan was always to get John alone and snatch him up, he had been in their sights for some time. He just happened to be with someone at all times, so it was impossible to get to him.

Until that day-

Bob forced the thought out of his mind as he sat beside Janet, who was currently bickering with Hank about something, but there was no heat behind their tones, words, or body language.

It felt comfortable being close to them. Neither mentioned that Bob was always close by, but they knew.

They knew why, too.

And whether that was a product of Hank’s boredom the first week they were there when he deep dive researched them all, or a product of Ava’s calls with them where she told them about her family, it didn’t matter.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Bob looked up at Janet, not realizing she and Hank had stopped talking, or that Hank was now sitting cross-legged on the floor of the quinjet 2.0 with Ava, talking to her softly.

“This whole thing…. It’s my fault.”

He said without hesitation. It felt good to finally get it off his chest. Janet raised an eyebrow at his confession before Bob continued 

“We had some… stupid argument, and I got upset. Yelena always sides with me, so she was ignoring John. John was irritated by our fight and distressed because Lena wouldn’t talk to him, so he was lashing out at everyone, and no one wanted to be around each other, so they all split off.”

He inhaled deeply before letting go of a shaky, long exhale,

“If I had managed to just for once not be butthurt-“

“That would have stopped them from wanting John for the last five months?”

His jaw clicked shut at Janet’s interjection, realizing where she was going.

“Bob, you guys got into a squabble. Family does that all the time. What happened past that is out of your control. The day I got pulled into the quantum realm, Hank and I had been talking about expanding our family.”

Bob looked up at her in a state of shock and sadness, finding that she was watching her husband talk to Ava, gently explaining something as she nodded along.

“We were doing great, not to say we didn’t fight. We had some loud fights, a lot of those ended with him in tears and me angry as a wasp, but that day? That day started with pancakes with Hope, a conversation about trying again, and me reminding Hank for the millionth time to take his meds before we left.”

She huffed a small sound, tears in her eyes as she looked at Bob, a tiny smile on her lips,

“We never know what is going to happen next, especially in this line of work. But that doesn’t mean we stop living. Live as normally, in spite of it. Squabbles and plans all the same.”

Bob hummed, leaning into her side as she wrapped her arm around him, pressing a kiss to his crown.

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“John? Without a doubt.”

Ava didn’t wait for the others. She gave Hank and Janet a squeeze before phasing out and into the building. She went from room to room, phasing over and over.

In one room, no John, out of the room.

Rinse and repeat 

Rinse and repeat 

She didn’t stop to kill, no matter how badly she wanted to. That wasn’t her mission.

Find John. That’s her mission. 

She won’t leave until she has him.

Alarms are blaring, and people are running and screaming, more or less on alert due to her presence. That’s a mess the others can handle, she knows they’re all dying to handle it.

She is too, but it’s not her mission.

Rinse and repeat 

Rinse and repeat 

She’s in the basement now, the first two floors are headquarters and living quarters. This…

It smells like antiseptic, chemicals, and death.

She runs out of energy to phase anymore,

“JOHN!”

She screamed, actually hearing her voice above a mutter for the first few weeks.

“JONATHAN!”

He’d told her that was his full name five months into knowing each other, they were trying to one-up each other on useless facts. She didn’t find his name useless at 

all.

“JONATHAN!”

Her voice is manic, so is her running as she goes into every room, ignoring the things left there if it isn’t a mop of red blonde hair.

What if she’s too late? What if he’s already gone? What if he’s been taken out back and shot in the head-

She stumbled into a room filled with cells, and I’m the silence, she hears it.

The soft hum she used to fall asleep to.

She doesn’t think, she doesn’t even breathe, she just runs full sprint for the sound.

he’s not sure what led him to the room, but he operated on the possibility of finding his friend in there and went in, gun drawn.

No one was there, it was just several tables, some with instruments, others with restraints to hold someone down, and one with a notepad, a pen, and a video camera, several tapes beside it.

There was a nice-looking wooden chair sitting square in the middle of the room, and straight across from it was a metal chair with restraints up and down it as if it would lock the person into place once they sat.

Bucky felt the vomit rise in his throat as he realized what he was looking at, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he took in the room before walking to the table with the tapes and notepad, reading the first line written on it.

US. Agent. The breaking and rebuilding.

“He was so sure you would not come.”

Bucky whipped around, pointing his gun straight at the man’s head.

He didn’t flinch, he just smiled at Bucky like he’d won something.

“It took exactly 17 days to get him to admit that. But he knew it in his mind for some time. “

“Where is he-“

“You know, I thought truth serum wasn’t going to work, but it did. It just took some wear and tear to get his body to the point where it would work. I’ll tell you what, breaking a super soldier is not for the weak. They take a lot of time to break. But you’d know that, wouldn’t you, Winter Soldier?”

“Winter Soldier is dead. Has been for years.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head like Bucky was amusing.

“You know, you sound just like him. He insisted on only three things. Winter Soldier was dead, he would not say a word about Bob, and that he meant nothing to you or your team. Or anyone for that matter.”

Bucky put a bullet through his neck, making him hit the ground, gargling on his own blood.

He let several rounds go in his body before pulling one straight between his eyes. 

That’s when he heard Ava scream for help.

He wasted no time collecting the notepad, the tapes, and crushed the vials of blood that were no doubt John’s before shoving the supplies in a random backpack he found lying to the side and tossing it on, following the sounds of Ava screaming.

Shit-

Ava stopped in the entrance of the cell, feeling like she had been shot in the throat at the sight in front of her.

It was John, she knew by his hair. The rest of him was nearly unrecognizable.

“Jonathan? Is that you?”

Her voice was shaking as she took a cautious step forward, expecting him to react to the sound.

He didn’t even acknowledge her presence, continuing to hum with his head back against the wall, eyes closed, almost like he was trying to sleep.

His hands were completely cuffed in some restraints she’d never seen before, and his ankles were also locked in, showing his bare cut up feet (They’d cut the bottom of his feet to stop him from running, or even trying to. He hasn’t tried in two weeks.) and she could tell from the way he was sitting his back was broken in at least two areas. The light white t-shirt did nothing to hide the way he’d lost weight, or how he had several areas on his arms and legs that had been peeled back at some point in time. His collarbones were also burned, and his neck looked like he’d been stabbed repeatedly in the throat in several areas by a syringe, bruised and marked up.

She felt her body moving without telling herself to as she hit the ground in front of him, scrambling to remove the restraints, trying her best to ignore how he flinches away from her touch, working as fast as possible to free him.

“Johnny? Can you hear me?”

She waited on bated breath for him to open his eyes, it being the easiest way for her to truly identify him at this point.

 John had the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Deep, crystal blue that looked like a stormy sea. She could get lost in those oceans. She did more often than not.

“Johnny?"

She felt like she’d been electrocuted by how badly she was shaking, tears spilling down her face silently as she begged him to open his eyes internally.

He always did have a way of reading her mind.

Slowly, his eyes opened halfway, and hazy, but there was no doubt that they were his.

The sob that escaped her was loud, mixed with grief and relief and anger and fear all at once. All she could do was fall apart as she held his face, putting her forehead to his in a way that had become so commonplace for them. 

He stilled, his song dying in his throat as he inhaled her scent, and she knew he was aware of who she was then as he relaxed with his exhale.

“I found you. I found you, I found you, I found you,”

She sobbed like a broken mantra, before she pulled away (deeply against her will) to scream for help, making him full body flinch. 

“I’m going to fix this, don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

She sobbed, soothingly rubbing his cheeks, slightly hating herself for screaming and scaring him that way.

He must have felt her distress, because he starts to hum again, that fucking song oh how she hates that song now-

“What’s that?”

It's an evening in the tower, and it’s only the two of them.

Lena and Bob went to the movies, Bucky had a meeting, and Alexei was driving someone somewhere. She was reading in her room, her record player going and John had been in the kitchen making something, but now he was standing in the doorway of her room, his shoulder leaning up against the frame comfortably as he watched her with crossed arms. 

God, he looks hot in a simple white shirt and sweats.

“It’s Misery, a Stephen King book.”

“Yeah, no, I know that, I’ve read it before. Not my favorite of his… I meant the song,”

“Oh,”

She looked over to her record player, tuning in to actually listen to what was playing, before a feeling of warmth washed over her. 

“The Night We Met. it’s a Lord Heron song.”

He hummed, nodding in approval, and for some reason, that filled her stomach with butterflies.

“Good to finally have a name for the song you hum all the time. It’s pretty, I like it.”

She smiled, feeling her face light on fire as she looked back at her book, 

“Yeah, everyone says it’s a great first dance song.”

He hummed again, pushing off the wall as his timer went off, 

“I can see that. We’ll have to test the theory sometime,”

He said, walking away, missing the way she turned red and smiled.

She sobbed harder, holding his face tight as she pressed their heads together again, 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so so sorry,”

She wept, feeling him lean deeper into her touch, desperate to feel her.

She heard Bucky’s footfalls as he shouted her name, but she had run out of words; all she could do was sob as he tensed in her hands, no doubt thinking someone was coming to hurt him as she tried to comfort him.

“Ava are you- SHIT.”

Bucky tore into the room, hitting the ground beside her, gently prying him out of her hold to scoop him up bridal style, hearing the blood rush in his ears, swearing a how light he was.

John tried to scream in pain, his eyes flew open with a look of panic and anguish, but for some reason, he couldn’t open his mouth, so it was a strangled, muffled scream. Bucky felt the vomit return to his throat as he swallowed it down and whispered apologies for jostling him before standing slowly to avoid hurting him any further. It wouldn’t matter; he knew that every step he took was going to be agony, and Bucky couldn’t afford to walk slowly.

Not if John was going to make it out alive.

He was a shell of who he was before… exactly what they had wanted.

“I’ve got you, John, don’t worry, we’re getting out of here.”

He assured him, not sure if he even knew who he was or could even trust the voice of a man at this point.

John, however, leaned into him hard. Inhaling and exhaling slowly. His body was shaking, he couldn’t tell if it was residual energy from the sheer number of times he’d been electrocuted, judging the burn scars on his neck and arms, or if it was anxiety. Or just his body giving out. Bucky wasn’t waiting to see which it was.

He started walking faster, hearing Ava beside him, flipping her mask on (more or less to protect her hysteria from being seen) with only one thing in mind.

“We’re getting you home.”

Chapter 3

Medically induced comatose was, according to the doctors, the best shot John had at healing before his body caved.

The serum was the only thing that kept him alive as long as it did; he should have been dead weeks ago when they introduced him to radiation poison.

John had never had a scarless body, but he’d never escaped the physical memory of what happened to him.

His feet had been cut open repeatedly, his ankles were broken at least twice from the looks of how his bones tried to reconstruct, his pelvis was also broken at some point, his back in three separate ways, he had burn scars from electric to acids to fire to unknown sources all up and down his arms legs and torso, his neck was permanently scarred from the amount of injections, along with some burns, his hearing was impacted, so was his sight from what they could tell, his nails had been forcibly removed several times a his jaw had been broken and then locked shut.

Not to mention how malnourished and dehydrated he was.

Or the state of his mentality.

While optimistic for recovery, no one was saying full.

Ava didn’t care, he was alive. That was enough for her.

He’s been in and out of repair surgeries for the past few days, and hasn’t regained consciousness since she handed him off to Bucky the day they rescued him.

She desperately wants to see his eyes again, but even more than that, she wants to hear him.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen  Bucky look this disheveled. He's grown his beard out, did you know he's got white hairs? I don't remember if I told you that. Nothing major, just here and there whites. it's definitely in his beard. You’d like it, I’m sure. So I got some pictures, I’ll show you when you wake up,”

She said to John’s comatose form, speaking to him as if he were sitting beside her like he always did, his head on her shoulder and humming responses as she spoke.

He’d do that, just sit in her presence and not speak. 

“And oh! I need to formally introduce you to Janet and Hank. you’ll love them, they are some of my favorite people. Hank is kinda like Bob, in the sense that he has the whole BPD thing. Janet is sweet, not to say Hank isn’t- well, he isn’t. He’s kinda an asshole but I love him so.”

It was the only thing keeping her from spiraling again, talking to him like he was aware.

It was grounding her, reminding her he was there, even if he couldn’t answer.

She was hoping it was doing the same for him

John’s getting his pelvis reconstructed when Bucky finally managed to sneak out. Janet and Bob are getting coffee (she wanted to walk through some of his complicated feelings so he wouldn’t try to stuff it down), Yelena and Alexei were finishing the debrief of their rescue mission with Val (who was being surprisingly helpful), and Hank had managed what no other person could. He’d gotten Ava to sleep, her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around the pillow she’d been holding, completely out. Hank was texting someone, answered a call about the remote (must have been Cassie), and then took another call from someone about Ava, who sounded like a friend of his. 

Bucky felt now or never he’d be able to check what the tapes had, and with each step to the conference room in the tower, he felt less and less sure he wanted to see it.

If John could go through it, he could watch them to better understand how to help him heal.

The first round, he watched stone cold, arms crossed against his chest, tight, until they got to waterboarding.

He paused the recording and violently threw up in the trash bin.

He didn’t throw up again until he got to how John ended up with a severely broken back.

And then again, when he watched them acid burn his arms and chest.

And again, when John swore he had no friends and would not be saved.

he had nothing in him by the end of it, and his throat burned from the straight acid he'd expelled from his system.

By the end of the tapes, Bucky felt like he was going to pass out. 

He’s not sure why he forced himself to watch it again, but this time, he does so still as a statue, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he absorbs all the horror. 

It’s awful, it’s a memory he thought he’d locked away, instead this time he’s watching it done to someone far too innocent to ever experience that kind of torture. 

He wanted to burn them honestly after he watched them, but instead he put them back in the bag, and went and showered in the hottest water he could, not getting out of the shower until his skin was sore to the touch from how hard he’d scrubbed.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the sound of John’s screaming pleas to stop echoing in his head.

“You can leave him for a minute, kid.”

Ava looked up from where she’d been watching John, giving Hank a small, shy smile before going back to watching John sleep motionlessly.

“I… I have these recurring thoughts.”

She started, feeling her eyes burning with unshed tears as she held his hand in her own, squeezing it gently. She can feel Hank move from standing behind her to walk around the bed, sitting on the side of the armchair beside it, his hands on his knees in a very “old father” position, his eyes on her, gently prodding her to continue, 

“It’s just- every time I look away from him for more than a moment, or I am not where he is close enough to touch… I fear-”

“That he’s going to disappear again?”

The words died in her throat as she nodded, feeling two tears slip past her lashes, 

“What if he does?”

Hank sighed, not in the “I’m to tired for this shit” way he typically did, but a deep bone weary sigh that she knew too well.

“You’ll spend the rest of your life feeling that way, Aves, I wish I could tell you it goes away.”

She felt the tears continuing to fall, not even trying to stop them anymore, 

“I am so scared, all the time, that I’m going to lose him. I-I can’t do that again, I can’t lose him again. I won’t survive-”

He reached across the bed and snatched her hand, grounding her with how tightly he held it. 

Gentle and firm, so much like her Dad-

“You will survive. Even if you do lose him again.”

She shook her head hard, the sobs continuing to bubble out of her. 

“I-I have to protect him. I can’t ever let him be taken again,”

Hank hummed, looking at the sleeping figure before looking back at Ava, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb. 

“You can leave.”

“What?”

“The Avengers. You guys can leave.”

She blinked, rubbing the tears away with her free hand, and then her other hand once Hank let it go, 

“What- no we, we can’t.”

“You can. You’ve both done your time Aves, you’ve fought hard, saved millions, and you both have the scars to prove it… too many scars.”

He sat back on the arm of the seat, hands on his knees again, with a small shrug, 

“No one said you have to sell your soul to this till one of you dies. You can leave.”

“But the others…”

“Are you family, I am not implying you leave them, kiddo, I’m just saying you don’t have to put your life on the line anymore, especially not for a society that cares for you guys as much as they don't.”

She was quiet, looking at John’s chest rise and fall. As artificial as it may be, it was reassuring to know he was at least breathing.

“You both deserve to live a happy life, all of you do, actually. Full of whatever that is you see fit. And if you ever want to…”

She looked up at him, her eyes still red-rimmed, 

“You know where we live. And you know the door is always open to you and yours.”

She sat back on the hard chair, reaching out to take John’s limp hand again, 

“Thanks, Hank.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Ava found the bag with the tapes in them about two weeks into the recovery. 

At first, she had no clue what she was looking at. 

She vaguely remembered Bucky carrying it out on his back during the rescue mission, and that was enough to get her poking at it,

“What do you have there?”

She looked up to find Yelena watching her squat in front of the bag, stopping like she’d gotten caught red-handed.

“I’m searching this bag. Why are you not with John-”

“He’s in another operation. I think they said it’s his back.”

The silence stretched for a moment before Ava nodded, swallowing hard, 

“I wonder if he’ll walk again,”

She said idly, as she started to dig around in the bag. Yelena hummed, leaning against the doorframe of the conference room, 

“I do as well. I suppose if he does not, we will need to restructure the tower, you know, for a wheelchair and whatnot, are those tapes?”

Ava nodded, pulling out the three tapes, feeling her heart pounding as she read the title on them.

Agent. The breaking and rebuilding

“Are those…”

“I think they’re the documented torture.”

The girls sit in silence before Ava stands up abruptly, looking at Yelena, 

“Get Bob?”

She nodded before pushing off the wall to find Bob. if they were going to watch this, they were all going to watch it.

She ended up finding Alexei and Bob together, Bucky was with the Pym-Van Dynes working on s omething she missed, but she didn’t bother asking him to come. 

They all knew Bucky had already watched them. Why else would he have brought them back?

“Alright, if it’s too much for any of you, tap out. I will not hold it against you.”

Ava said, setting up the recorder, fitting the tapes into their system.

“We are all in this together, no one taps out.”

Yelena said, putting her hand on Ava’s shoulder, waiting until she looked up at her best friend, 

“If John had no such offer to tap out, neither do we.”

Ava felt her chest tighten as she nodded in agreement, thankful that there was more than one of them ready to do this.

Bob almost didn’t make it through the first tape. 

Not because he walked out, but he just nearly passed out several times. He took to pacing to get through the rest of it, threw up several times, and prayed for it to stop more than he’s ever prayed in his life before. But he refused to leave.

 Alexei stood in the corner of the room, dead silent, stone-faced and arms crossed. It wasn’t the Alexei they all loved, or the red guardian the world knew. It was the man who’d been forced to take part in tortures just as brutal in Russia, watching, he was always a step ahead of the tape, knowing exactly what John was going to be forced through before the others watched it.

Yelena also stood still, only breaking her stance twice, once to help Bob when he threw up, and another time to throw up herself.

Ava couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her body shook with sobs and anger, and fear, the entire time.

By the time the last tape ended, each member in the room was as hollow as the sound of the clock ticking away. 

“He will never trust us again.”

Yelena whispered, her hands buried in her hair.

“How can he? We didn’t find him till it was almost too late? We failed him in every aspect.”

Bob half sneered, still crying hard enough that he had hiccups.

“It does not matter. We will make him trust us again, we will gain his trust again.”

Alexei muttered, still standing still, looking at the now black screen.

Ava stood up, wiped the tears from her face with a shaky hand, before phasing out. 

No one bothered to follow her.

Bucky found out they’d watched the tapes as soon as he saw them again. The hollow look in their eyes told him enough.

He didn’t reprimand them, he didn’t shout at them and tell them they should have minded their own business or tell them they should have known better.

He simply pulled each member of his team into a hug, and let them cry on his shoulder, distinctly noticing Ava’s absence.

He found her sitting vigil at John’s side, but this time her hands were shaking just above his hand, trying to find the strength to take his hand in hers.

“He truly believed we don’t care about him.”

She said in the darkness, her voice echoing softly.

“I know.”

“He… he said several times. We weren’t his friends. We weren’t coming. We didn’t care. And the worst part is… he was right. We didn’t come.”

“Ava-”

“We let him get tortured and broken and destroyed and- and we didn’t do enough. We didn’t look enough, we didn’t fight hard enough, we didn’t find him until it was too late and now he’s never going to be the same and- oh God, what if he never wakes up? He will die thinking we didn’t care about him. He will die thinking I didn’t care about him, and that’s not true. I care about him so much, I love him so much, and he doesn’t know that I love him-”

Bucky was at her side in a split second, pulling her gently away by her shoulders before he spun her around and hugged her, holding her as her knees buckled and she held to him for dear life, screaming into his chest as she sobbed.

She cried for John, for the immense pain he was in and everything he endured. She cried for who she lost, who she was sure she would never see again. She cried for herself, too, at the thought of losing someone she loved again. At the thought of never getting to tell him she loved him.

Bucky let go of a long, exhausted sigh, pressing a kiss to her crown as he held her, letting her fall apart in his arms as he fought back the tears building up.

It was nearly a month to date by the time they’d finished all the surgeries needed to reconstruct his bones and skin graft some areas of major damage. By the time they’d finished it, they gave him another week of medicated comatose before weaning him off, hoping he’d be able to withstand it.

Ava was somehow more on edge as she waited for him to wake up, watching him constantly, standing guard, barely sleeping. 

Bucky was also pacing the room like he had to protect himself from an unseen threat. Bob and Yelena continued to talk to John, hoping their voices would somehow jog his mental activity so he could wake up, and Alexei was happy to do the same when the two of them ran out of things to talk about.

Hank and Janet had taken to picking up the pieces again, making sure people slept, ate, showered, the works.

Two days later, John came around, slowly but surely, he started showing signs of activity, shifting, soft noises, his eyes fluttering under his eyelids, and Ava championed him gently, whispering to him to wake up, that he was safe, that she was there. 

If she wasn’t, it was Bob and Yelena cheering him on, telling him they could see him trying and to keep fighting. Bucky and Alexei also joined in, telling him to fight back and wake up, that he was safe now.

“What if this is it?”

Bob asked softly, watching from the corner of the room where he and Janet were sitting playing cards.

“What, honey?”

“This,”

He waved in the general direction of John’s bed. Yelena was with him right now, talking softly to him as she brushed his hair out of his eyes. Ava and Alexei had gone for Coffee, and Bucky was talking to Sam in the other corner of the room with a genuinely stressed appearance.

“What if he never fully wakes up again? What if this is it for him, just here but not really here?”

Janet hummed before placing her cards face down, looking at the collection of people, 

“Then you will love him where he’s at. You guys have come this far. And besides,”

She turned back to her game, putting her card down for him, 

“You’d have a home buddy during their missions, so that will be a plus.”

Bob chuckled, shaking his head before putting his own card down, countering hers.

“Yeah, I guess so. I think we’d have such philosophical conversations.”

It felt like he was floating and sinking all at once. 

He’s been in dreams for so long now, drifting from memory to memory. Some good, some bad, most of all hazy.

He can hear her voice constantly. She talks to him and whispers her love. It feels like he’s being embraced by her every time he hears her voice. His northern star, his compass. 

He hears his voice too, sharp and warm all at once. How that is, he’s never been able to tell. But that is just how the protector is. Sharp and Warm. 

Several other voices have joined now, he often hears the soft bubbly voice, he’s the encourager, and the smooth and guiding voice. She’s the guardian. There’s a booming and strong voice, too, that is the defender. All of these voices match the faces that blur in his mind. He’s not sure how he knows it, but he does.

There is also another voice, cool, calm, and welcoming. He is often with the protector. And then there is the other set of voices. They are kind and strong, but also feel nurturing. Parental in a way he’s never experienced.

The floating is getting old now; he wants to escape the grey, but every time he’s tried, he hits a wall. So he stays, letting himself drift from memory to memory

Echo to echo.

He feels like that’s all he is now, an echo.

Who is he?

He doesn’t know.

“I’m right here waiting when you are ready, love.”

But he thinks he’s ready. She is calling him, he always follows where she calls.

He tries again, going to break through the grey, finding it a lot easier this time. But as he continues to go, he feels like his body is becoming broken all over again, pain crashing into him on all sides.

“ Whenever you come around Bud, we’re waiting. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He doesn’t feel safe, he feels like he did back there. 

He probably is back there. This is a dream, after all, right?

But the protector is saying he’s safe. He wouldn’t lie to him, right?

He decides to try again, feeling energy thrumming under his skin as he feels the pain bloom from all corners of him, pushing past it to get to the surface. 

“ You can take as long as you need man, I know I would if I were you. But we’re really excited to see you so.. Not too long ok?

He’s trying damn it, he doesn’t want to take long! He really wants to give the bubbly voice a hug for some reason. 

“Fight маленький солдат, We know you can.”

Fighting is exhausting. He just wants to rest. Every time he stops pushing to leave he feels the gentle lull pulling him back. It’s tempting, he just wants to turn around and stay.

“ I’m sure you are not sure where you are, or maybe you are. Either way, when you wake up. We are all here waiting for you, ok?”

It seems like it should be so easy for him to just… break through

The world is blurry when he opens his eyes, it feels like everything is moving too fast and too slow. He can hear the muffled sounds of people talking; his hearing is there, but not totally. it sounds like he’s listening to people through a straw. 

He sees motion above him, but can’t figure out what is going on as he sees several people blur in front of him.

They must have just finished a round of trials. Great. That means he gets to go back to the cell. Although he doesn’t usually fall asleep mid-trial, and he was very much asleep-

She’s there.

Her face is right above his, he can smell her cherrywood and orange zest. And suddenly he feels like he’s home.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,”

Comes another voice, gruff but something else tinged on his tone. 

She doesn’t say anything for a long while, just stares at him like he’s a ghost. Before she blinks, tears falling as she leaned down and pressed her head against his.

He closed his eyes and leaned in as much as he could, inhaling her one more time. 

It was interesting how this dream was following him around, maybe he can stay here mentally while they do things physically to him. Or, maybe it’ll break once they shock the shit out of him again. Either way, he hopes it never ends.

Chapter 4

The shock never comes.

Which is odd. He was sure it would come eventually.

He fell asleep again, and woke up the same faces. Familiar but not named. For some reason, he felt nervous being around them.

Like he was around a good thing for too long, and it would leave.

It made it so much easier when the good thing ended earlier instead of lasting longer. The longer it lasts, the more he wants to stay.

There is a lot of other people coming through too, touching him, asking him things, attaching things to him. He lets them do what they want with him, he’s learned it’s better not to fight anymore. 

Right now it doesn’t hurt, so he’ll let them do whatever as long as it stays this way.

He hates the way he can feel every tube and cord on him and in him, but if he tries to remove them, he knows he’ll be punished. So he sits as still as possible and flexes his hands. 

He hums, but that’s something he can’t control. It’s the only thing that keeps him from crying.

The people who look familiar keep calling him different names, and he doesn’t know any of those names. 

He doesn’t know his name.

And then one day, they stop coming in.

He thinks that maybe it’s because he’s going to really wake up soon.

Except when he comes around from a nap, there’s another person in the room.

He was reading, sitting in the chair that one of the other people usually sat in, but when he noticed that he was awake, he put the book to the side, looking at him.

“You’re up. Good. That was a long nap, how you feeling?”

He shrugged, as best he could in his position. The man hummed, standing up to help support him better. 

After some shifting around, he found himself oddly the most comfortable he’s been in a while, like his weight was shifted to all the right areas. And he could actually sit up now without feeling like he was going to topple over.

“Thanks.”

He whispered, and suddenly realized that it was the first thing he’s said since… he doesn’t remember when,

“Yep, your jaws intact again, gotta feel good to use your mouth, huh? All the rest of you is back in one piece too, but baby steps,”

He shifted his jaw back and forth, finding it didn’t hurt like before. It ached softly, but nothing like before.

Come to think of it. Most of him didn’t hurt like that anymore. He just felt off.

“You ok?”

He nodded before looking up at the man, trying to place him.

“I’m not one of them. You’ve actually not met me before. That’s kinda why I’m the one here instead of all them. It can get a little overwhelming to see that many people all at once.”

He explained, sitting back in the chair, 

“Gonna ask you a question, nod if you’re ready,”

He took a half-deep breath before giving the older man a small nod, steeling himself for something he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

“What’s your name, kid?”

He was looking at his hands, slightly bothered by the fact that they won’t stop shaking.

The man sitting by him is kind, his voice is soft, and he feels like a distant comfort.

“I don’t know.”

He whispered, his voice even softer, he’d be surprised if the kind man could hear him.

The kind man nodded, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees,

“That’s ok. Your brain is a little scrambled. You’ll get there. Do you remember where you are?”

He shook his head no, still feeling disoriented. 

Everything feels both real and unreal. 

Suddenly, he remembered something important, his head whipped up to look the man in the eye, fear filling his stomach 

“I-I didn’t say anything.”

The man gave him a small smile, offering a hand to him. For some reason, he trusted this older man, so he took his outstretched hand, feeling the small calluses in his fingers, 

“I know, kid. You did good. No one is worried about what you did or didn’t say.”

He hummed before looking down at their hands, then back up at the man, 

“Am I free?”

He feels like he can trust this man. He would tell him if he was still in the lab, right? 

The man smiled again, or tried to, before giving him a small squeeze, 

“Yeah, kid. You’re free.”

“Hey kid, how was lunch?”

He shrugged, picking at the jello. They still don’t trust him to eat real food, but he was trying this today. It made him gag, so he didn’t try it again.

“Still not a fan, huh? That’s fine, it’ll take time.”

He sat on the side of the bed, offering him something small.

It’s a hat. He’s seen these kinds of hats before; he’s not sure where. He knows this hat, too. He doesn’t know why, 

“This is yours. Do you remember it?”

He fixed his brow as he took the offered hat, playing with it in his hands. It feels soft, he remembers an angelic laugh paired with this hat, he’s not sure why.

“Aves said you really liked it when she gave it to you.”

Aves 

He knows that name.

It makes his heart flutter. He thinks the laugh is hers.

“Remember your name yet?”

He shook his head, still playing with the hat.

“Ok, we can work with that. Why don’t you tell me what you do remember?”

It’s permission, so he takes it.

He tells him about the torture. About the different things they tried, how his body always healed, how they’d ask him questions, but he doesn’t remember what.

The man doesn’t flinch. He listens, nods along, and gives him the same gentle, strong presence. 

He likes this man. He feels like a father. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he hasn’t felt this before. Or he has. He’s not sure.

By the time he finishes telling him everything, he feels tired and shaky, and the man has already moved things around to get him lying back down. 

“S-somethings wrong,”

“Nah, it’s ok. You’re just reeling. That was a lot to share all in one sitting, so you’re body is telling you it’s time to rest.”

He moved to take the hat back when his hand reached out and grabbed it. 

“Can I keep it?”

The man smiled, nodding as he let go of it, finishing tucking him in. 

“Sure thing, kid.”

When he falls asleep, he dreams of a warm sunny place and the sound of laughter. And faces.

He knows those faces.

They keep saying a name to him. He wonders if that’s his name.

“Good morning, kid! You slept straight through the day and night. It’s a brand new day.”

He’s moving things in the room, opening the blinds, freshening the flowers (they’re yellow now. He used to have red), folding up sheets and stuff (did someone sleep here?), and throwing some trash. 

“What’s on your mind this morning, sport?”

“My name…. My name is John.”

The man slowed his movement, looking over at him. For a second, he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, but the smile told John he was right. 

The voices in his dreams were right, too.

“Yep, and that’s how I can talk with them,”

John is sitting half propped up, watching the ants play on the man’s hand. (his name is Hank, John thinks that name is fitting.) 

“Do you like them?”

“Who are the ants? More than people sometimes, yeah.”

John giggled, and Hank smiled at that. 

“He’s not joking, he’s completely serious.”

Comes another voice, a soft, sweet female one. She walked in, standing behind Hank, her hands on his shoulders, before plopping a soft kiss to his temple, 

“Oh, Jan, nice of you to join us.”

“Mmhmm, just trying to save that poor boy from having to listen to you talk about ants for the next three hours.”

John smiled again, feeling a sense of ease wash over him with them both there.

He hasn’t felt this easy in so long.

The two talked to him and with him about everything and nothing, and when he started to feel heavy again, he slipped off into a quiet sleep, listening to them talk to each other about alerting someone else about changes.

He didn’t care; he knew they were safe.

The next time Hank came to talk with him, he had her.

She is glassy-eyed and beautiful, her hair bouncy with curls, and she’s wearing a long sweatshirt that he knows somehow.

“John?”

His name on her lips feels right. He blinked at her, flooded with memories of things he was sure were dreams.

“I know you.”

He says without thinking, and tears spill and fall from her perfect eyes as she walks over, her shaking hands reaching out to hold his face.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as she put her forehead to his.

She smells like cherrywood and orange zest.

It’s her.

“You came back for me.”

He whispered.

And she sobbed, holding his cheeks firmer. He reached up and grabbed her wrists, grounding himself.

Aves.

This was Aves.

This was his Aves.

He remembers her.

It’s like she lit his entire mind ablaze, every good and bad memory flooding back to him as she stood there, holding him.

“I- I… they tried. To find Bob and Bucky. I promise I never said anything, I never gave you away-”

“I don’t care.”

She rushed out, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. All I care about is you.”

He felt tears spilling down his cheeks, and she brushed them away.

“I looked for you. I wouldn’t stop. I tore everything apart to find you. Please, please believe me, John. I did everything to find you. I’m sorry I was so late.”

He leaned into her touch, a sigh escaping him.

“You came back for me.”

For some reason, that is all he can focus on.

She bent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft and slow, almost as if she was drinking him in as much as he was her.

“I will always come back for you.”

Ava made herself at home by his side. Nestled in and one arm around his waist. She hates how small it is now, but he’ll get back to bulk at some point. 

And if not, she doesn’t care about that.

He’s alive. That’s all that matters.

Bucky came by next. Turns out, he’s spent his nights here. Him or Yelena. 

Ava and Bob spend the early mornings, and Alexei switches out in the afternoon.

John’s still trying to understand the fact that any of them are spending time there at all.

It's been months since the capture, and he’s been out of it for that long. 

He isn’t a fan of that at all.

Bucky sat down and put both his hands out, waiting until John took them to start talking. 

“You are John Walker. A member of our team, you are one of us. A friend, a brother, and something more. You are not what they tried to make you.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his eyes red rimmed as John looked down at his hands and then back up at Bucky.

“I-”

“You are not. What they tried to make you.”

John closed his mouth, looking back at his hands, 

“But I’m not the same anymore.”

Bucky hummed, giving the hands in his a small squeeze, 

“You aren’t, I’m not either. But you are still wholly you.”

John flexed his hands in Bucky’s feeling a sense of oneness in the statement made. He didn’t elaborate on it, but he also didn’t mind the way Bucky sighed, letting go of his hands to hold him from the back of the head, pulling him close to press a kiss to his temple.

Yelena and Bob had a lot to share.

Between random updates of the world around them, both of them dumping on him the most random facts about himself so he could fully remember who he was, and also showering him in love, it was safe to say it was a little overwhelming.

He loved it.

Even if it did leave him a little shaky.

It felt like he was normal again, listening to them talk at the same time, and he just blinked and nodded along, every now and again laughing at the insanity of it all.

The way they’d smile whenever he laughed made him want to laugh more. 

Alexei was careful with him. He knows that wasn’t the case before. 

Part of him dislikes it, but part of him is thankful the bigger man is gentle.

He's aware that the team is acting differently around him; he remembers sharp laughs and barbs being thrown his way. He also remembers throwing barbs back and slaps to each other's arms and shoulders.

He aches for those days to come back. But he's feeling like maybe that time is gone.

Instead, for now, he enjoys sitting nestled in Ava's hold, Bucky and Yelena talking as Bob and Alexei argue over what movie to watch.

For now, he's come to accept this is home now, it's not the same as before, and sometimes he wakes up and thinks he's there again. But someone is always close enough to reach and find.

It's different, but it's home.

He's been wanting to go home for so long that he forgot what it felt like. 

And now he never wants to leave it again.

End.