Meant to Be

When Tony found Rogers and Barnes, he didn’t go into the room at first. He watched them talk to Agent Hill- their backs to him, and Maria’s eyes discretely flicking to meet his own at times. He stood and watched through the window that separated them.

They looked like criminals.

Their hair was over-grown, Barnes more so than Rogers. Barnes’s hair met his shoulders, whereas Rogers’ hair was inches longer than his army regulation crew cut had once been. They both had messy beards from what Tony could see. They looked like they had been on the run.

They looked like criminals, and as he stood, watching, Tony could only remember their crimes. And how they had hurt him.

HYDRA, he thought. You need them.

He rubbed his face with both hands, digging the drowsiness from his eyes. He cracked his neck, stretched his back, and straightened his tie and collar to match his smooth, clean suit. He moved towards the door and Agent Hill’s eyes met his solidly with a smile. He read her lips, ‘speak of the Devil.’

“Gentlemen,” he started. They turned to him quickly. He greeted them with a neutral expression, taking in their appearance. The determined looks on their faces made Tony feel like he was back in Siberia- that day when he learned that Barnes had murdered his parents. Rogers turned squarely to face him.

“Tony,” he said warmly. He extended his hand to him hopefully. Tony looked at it glumly. “It’s really good to see you.” Tony took his hand and shook it firmly.

“Captain,” he greeted. He let go of his hand and looked at Barnes. Tony held out his hand to him and Barnes quickly grabbed a strong hold of it. “Sergeant.”

Tony felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, standing in the same room as Captain America and the Winter Soldier again. He remembered that Maria was standing next to them. Tony could see the edges of her mouth turned up slightly.

“Thank you, Agent, I’ve got it from here.”

“Good to have you back, boys,” Maria said with a nod toward the soldiers before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Tony motioned to the arm chairs along the wall, and they all moved to sit.

Captain Steve Rogers was wearing dark blue jeans, heavy tan boots, a plaid button-up shirt, and a brown leather jacket. Sergeant Bucky Barnes wore black jeans, black boots, a white T-shirt, and a black jean jacket. They had to learn how to blend in now that they were civilians.

Steve was still on his guard. They had surveyed the bunker for a few hours before Tony had finally sent someone to find them. Neither Steve nor Bucky fully trusted Tony, still. They were still not entirely welcome in the States. After the Sokovian Accords, they had both been deemed criminals of the state. But, now that it had been several years, perhaps there had been a change of heart. With Tony back on their side, maybe they would be able to come back home.

While Steve was alert, Bucky was on edge. He felt a surge of adrenaline rushing through his body- he felt anxious. About Tony; about HYDRA; about what was still leftover in his mind. Bucky’s eyes flitted around the room.

“There are a few reasons why you’re here today,” Tony began. “The first reason being that HYDRA is back.” Bucky took in a silent breath, tensing his shoulders but keeping a straight face. His expression was stoney and cold- he showed no fear, no interest, nothing. Steve looked from Tony to the window, somewhat disheartened to hear confirmation of their activity. It was always a fear that Steve kept with him.

“Second,” he continued after a couple of seconds. “I made some sense of the brainwashing tech that HYDRA used.” Tony held eye contact with Bucky. “And, third, I reworked HYDRA’s technology to recreate your arm,” Tony added, tucking his hands into his pants pockets and nodding to Bucky’s plastic prosthetic left arm.

“I don’t want another arm,” Bucky said, finally speaking. His voice was quiet and calm; non-confrontational, but it still made Tony’s blood boil. Tony took in a breath and let it out again before continuing.

“Well, then we have no need for you here. You might as well just go back to sleep,” he told him sharply.

“Tony, give him a break,” Steve said in Bucky’s defense.

“I can’t go back to who I was,” Bucky admitted.

“We need the Winter Soldier-” Bucky cut Tony off before he could finish.

“I will never be the Winter Soldier again,” Bucky asserted. His voice was still calm. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t want to hurt people. I can help without a metal arm.” Tony narrowed his eyes at Bucky, wanting to scream at him; wanting to knock some sense into him; wanted to show Rogers what a coward his friend was.

“Come with me, both of you,” Tony said as he turned and walked briskly away from the room.

Steve gave Bucky a knowing look, quickly following after Tony. Bucky trailed behind Steve as they traveled the maze of halls. The walls were bright white, which glowed in the lights along the ceiling. Their footsteps echoed on the black ceramic tiles.

Tony opened a door, ushering the other two into a viewing room. The dark room had a row of seats in front of a window, which Tony motioned for the others to take. When they all sat down, they looked down, out of the window in front of them. Below, in an open room lit by several bright lamps, was an operating room.

“Bring up Ms. Abbott’s file please, FRIDAY,” Tony said quietly as he lifted up his phone. It erupted with several 3D images. Her full-body X-ray spun and slowly flashed between her pre-op scan and the blueprint that Tony had made for her. Next to this image, Chick’s smiling face shown in a profile picture. On the other side of this picture, her patient file scrolled.

“Charlotte Abbott, 33, Brooklyn resident, post-op preventative double mastectomy, and post-op amputee,” FRIDAY chimed gracefully, reading off her file for the three men who sat, watching the operation below. “Double mastectomy to prevent hereditary breast cancer nine years ago. No lasting side effects. Right leg, above-the-knee amputation due to unfixable blood flow, necrotic tissue, and severe infection following a traumatic incident four years ago. Experiences limb swelling, pain, redness and irritation, and joint and back pain due to a poorly-fitting prosthesis. Vicodin addiction and depression due to the uncontrolled pain. Recent brain trauma. Severe concussion and brain bleeding. Shunts were placed to control the bleeding. Morphine given to control the pain,” FRIDAY finished.

“Meet Charlotte,” Tony said finally, motioning to the patient on the table before them. Steve and Bucky looked at each other. “FRIDAY, tell us about the procedure, please.”

“Ms. Abbott is currently undergoing Mr. Stark’s Robocop Protocol-”

“Working title,” Tony added quickly.

“In which the severed nerves and insulation are electrically rewritten using synthetic insulation and artificial nerves. When the nerves are repaired, a metal prosthesis is attached. Mechanical extensions are implanted into the base of the spine, as well as the wrists and the left ankle to complete the connection.”

“This is how I know you’ll never be the assassin again,” Tony said to Bucky, pointing definitively to his phone and the images that continued to shine and light up their faces. “You’ll be able to control your body.” Bucky stared at the woman on the operating table. Under the tubes and wires around her head, he could make out her brown hair and olive skin. Her eyes were taped shut and there was a thick plastic tube in her mouth, helping her breathe. She was draped with sheets, preventing them from seeing any exposed skin, apart from her right thigh, which was being cut into by two doctors. There was a swarm of other doctors and nurses observing.

“What if this doesn’t work?” Steve asked, determined and skeptic. Tony turned off his phone and looked from them down to Chick.

“After a brief observation period, once we find that nothing went wrong with Charlotte’s procedure, we’ll go ahead and schedule you. There is a very slim chance that anything is going to go wrong. But, if anything happens, we’ll figure out what went wrong and we’ll know how to prevent it for your operation.” Tony looked back to them. “It’s going to work.”

Steve stared at Tony, trying to read him. He seemed honest and genuine. Steve looked at Bucky when he turned away from the window. He seemed nervous.

“We need the Soldier,” Tony said- as close as he could ever get to pleading. Bucky pressed his lips together thoughtfully.

“If this works… Then I’m in,” he said finally. Steve clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“We’re in,” Steve affirmed, looking at Bucky confidently, who nodded slowly.