It's not like one can ever prepare for something like this (the 'this' in question being tasked with rehabilitating a renowned ex-Hydra assassin, who also may or may not be the man who murdered your parents, because Tony Stark's life is apparently nothing but a big fucking cosmic joke) but he'd been hoping to have more time to collect his thoughts. As it stands, Tony's been half distractedly tinkering with various pieces of machinery in his lab for what could only be a few hours when FRIDAY alerts him that The Soldier has woken up.
(Abysmal timing, thy name is The Winter Soldier. Couldn't he have waited until Tony wasn't guts deep in the remains of a, uh, what looks like it was once a microwave, to wake up? As previously stated, given Tony's life? Probably not.)
Tony makes his way up to the secure ("secure"? Truthfully, Tony doesn't actually know if it'll hold up if Barnes-- The Soldier? is it rude to keep calling him that? whatever-- decides to go all deadly assassin on them) room The Soldier is being kept in. Not for the first time, and probably not the last, Tony wonders what the hell he's getting himself into.
The fact that they'd gotten to Barnes before Steve did is, frankly, a miracle. Ross had the definitely brilliant and not at all migraine inducing idea that, hey, if we make good ol' Bucky Barnes defect to our side permanently, and he signs the Accords, surely Captain Rogers will come running back with his tail between his legs! And if not, well, what better way to leash him than to hold his dear lifelong friend above his head? Of course, since, "you can fix anything, Stark," and Tony's the only genius around that also happens to be Iron Man, and can therefore keep The Soldier in check, the job was given (re: forced, shoved, imposed, dictated, take your pick) to him.
(And Tony can't even for a second pretend he's not just plain bitter. Strategically speaking, it's genius, and he'd begrudgingly accept were it any other person. They're probably flirting the lines with what constitutes as keeping their own prisoner and brainwashing him, but surely any sane person would eventually be grateful to be saved from fascist Nazi programming. Using said person as blackmail is, uh, also less than favorable, but for the sake of gaining some sort of regulations and accountability for superheroes (which has been an issue on Tony's radar for, like, essentially the entire time he's been Iron Man), Tony understands that it's a necessary evil.
But it's Steve.
The same stupid Steve that Tony had to hear about the whole of his childhood, who probably got more of a notion of an I love you from Howard than Tony did in his entire life. The same stupid Steve who was somehow everything his father had described and nothing like that at all, who drew Tony in like a moth to a flame. The same stupid Steve that Tony got to bicker with, who would match him blow for blow, who Tony had let in to his life, given his trust, who he could see a future with (if not as partners, then as, well, partners, but in a decidedly more strictly work and platonic way). The same stupid Steve who left, who betrayed Tony's trust.
Now, rationally: he gets it. Tony knew from the moment he read the Accords that Steve wouldn't sign them, and he's always admired Steve's dedication to betterment, his one-hundred-percent-take-it-or-leave-it-and-oh-by-the-way-I'm-not-taking-no-for-an-answer style. It's practically impossible to get radical change by playing in the rules, and, really, like Tony of all people is going to be a hypocrite about rule breaking. But they could've done it together, as a team. Tony even understands the dedication to raise hell for Barnes-- if it were Pepper or Rhodey, Tony would be doing the exact same damn thing. But the deeply emotional, insecure, riddled with abandonment issues part of him can't help but wonder, oh, was I just not good enough?
Of course he wasn't. Tony never was, never is. Howard, Obadiah. Pepper, every person he's ever dated and disappointed. Rhodey, whenever Tony finds the end of a bottle again or does something stupid being overzealous and overconfident, or, or, or. The Avengers, which really stings because he tried, okay? The deaths at the hands of SI that still keep him up at night, the people he couldn't save and won't be able to save in the future (and, really, that's practically the whole world at this point). And now Steve.
Fixing up Steve's long lost star-crossed lover and practically sending him happy and waiting back into the arms (because, really, like Steve could stay away from Barnes for long. If anyone could get Steve to negotiate the Accords, it's Barnes' presence) of the man he loves (loved? Jury's still out) is just-- Tony doesn't even have words. It's a gut punch. It's nauseating.
Facing what's likely still a brainwashed Solider at least seems marginally easier to handle. Tony knows the script and the steps he has to follow. Barring some crazy heist-like rescue mission on Steve's part, it won't be hard to stick to the plan. Well, other than Tony hopefully getting more information about his parents out of Barnes.
(Did he mention Steve knew and didn't tell Tony? At least some of his pettiness is justified.))
With a sigh, still in the armor sans the face-plate and head piece, Tony enters the room. FRIDAY closes the door behind him, and locks it.
"I'd apologize about the restraints, but contrary to what superhero-ing in a tin can might say about me, I don't actually have a death wish," Tony says, in lieu of a greeting. He hadn't exactly walked in here with the intent to be witty, but Tony tends to deflect with jokes when he's feeling vulnerable.
He steps closer to the gurney. The Soldier's eyes follow Tony, uncomfortably blank. It feels like a rock in his gut, the sheer discomfort of this whole situation, but what makes him truly nauseous is the thing he might have to do next.
Along with The Soldier, they'd caught the man who had set Barnes off. It had definitely cleared a lot of things up, but it also revealed how Hydra had been controlling The Soldier in the first place. Ross wanted him to succeed at all costs, so Tony had all the tools at his disposal.
Yeah. All of them. The code words in that horrific red book, included.
If he needed to make The Soldier see him as his new handler, he was given permission to do so.
But, seriously, like hell was he going to do that. And he was supposed to be undoing the brainwashing, too-- playing into it would be counterintuitive.
(If The Soldier didn't listen to him, Tony might have to use the existence of the book to prove he has... leverage? The upper hand? But that alone was as far as he was willing to go.)
"So, uh, can we call a truce?" He knew The Soldier knew English, but maybe he'd respond better to Russian?
(Coincidentally, it was a language he was-- well, maybe not fluent in, but decent at. It had started when he was looking in more depth into Anton and Ivan Vanko, (lots and lots of old, messy documents that JARVIS couldn't translate for the life of him, that's how nearly illegible they were) and only grew with the presence of Natasha in his life. No, actually, it had started even before that. Yinsen had said that some of the members of the Ten Rings in that cave in Afghanistan had spoken it, and he'd been right. Tony always kept an ear out during those three months, learned as much as he could from Yinsen and/or context clues.)
He wracked his brain for the word or general concept he was trying to convey, and when he got it, and said it, The Soldier actually looked shocked. But Tony bulldozed on, tried not to feed the cocktail of guilt-shame-pettiness-jealousy-angerangeranger-resentment swirling in his stomach more than he already had. "I get you out of those and you don't attack me? Pretty please? I know it's a bad first impression, but the goal isn't-- I don't want to keep you prisoner if I don't have to."
Oh, right. Oxygen mask. Tony awkwardly takes it off for The Soldier, since he's still bound to the gurney. "Capiche? Happy to explain some things when the threat of stabbing becomes minimal."
no subject
(Abysmal timing, thy name is The Winter Soldier. Couldn't he have waited until Tony wasn't guts deep in the remains of a, uh, what looks like it was once a microwave, to wake up? As previously stated, given Tony's life? Probably not.)
Tony makes his way up to the secure ("secure"? Truthfully, Tony doesn't actually know if it'll hold up if Barnes-- The Soldier? is it rude to keep calling him that? whatever-- decides to go all deadly assassin on them) room The Soldier is being kept in. Not for the first time, and probably not the last, Tony wonders what the hell he's getting himself into.
The fact that they'd gotten to Barnes before Steve did is, frankly, a miracle. Ross had the definitely brilliant and not at all migraine inducing idea that, hey, if we make good ol' Bucky Barnes defect to our side permanently, and he signs the Accords, surely Captain Rogers will come running back with his tail between his legs! And if not, well, what better way to leash him than to hold his dear lifelong friend above his head? Of course, since, "you can fix anything, Stark," and Tony's the only genius around that also happens to be Iron Man, and can therefore keep The Soldier in check, the job was given (re: forced, shoved, imposed, dictated, take your pick) to him.
(And Tony can't even for a second pretend he's not just plain bitter. Strategically speaking, it's genius, and he'd begrudgingly accept were it any other person. They're probably flirting the lines with what constitutes as keeping their own prisoner and brainwashing him, but surely any sane person would eventually be grateful to be saved from fascist Nazi programming. Using said person as blackmail is, uh, also less than favorable, but for the sake of gaining some sort of regulations and accountability for superheroes (which has been an issue on Tony's radar for, like, essentially the entire time he's been Iron Man), Tony understands that it's a necessary evil.
But it's Steve.
The same stupid Steve that Tony had to hear about the whole of his childhood, who probably got more of a notion of an I love you from Howard than Tony did in his entire life. The same stupid Steve who was somehow everything his father had described and nothing like that at all, who drew Tony in like a moth to a flame. The same stupid Steve that Tony got to bicker with, who would match him blow for blow, who Tony had let in to his life, given his trust, who he could see a future with (if not as partners, then as, well, partners, but in a decidedly more strictly work and platonic way). The same stupid Steve who left, who betrayed Tony's trust.
Now, rationally: he gets it. Tony knew from the moment he read the Accords that Steve wouldn't sign them, and he's always admired Steve's dedication to betterment, his one-hundred-percent-take-it-or-leave-it-and-oh-by-the-way-I'm-not-taking-no-for-an-answer style. It's practically impossible to get radical change by playing in the rules, and, really, like Tony of all people is going to be a hypocrite about rule breaking. But they could've done it together, as a team. Tony even understands the dedication to raise hell for Barnes-- if it were Pepper or Rhodey, Tony would be doing the exact same damn thing. But the deeply emotional, insecure, riddled with abandonment issues part of him can't help but wonder, oh, was I just not good enough?
Of course he wasn't. Tony never was, never is. Howard, Obadiah. Pepper, every person he's ever dated and disappointed. Rhodey, whenever Tony finds the end of a bottle again or does something stupid being overzealous and overconfident, or, or, or. The Avengers, which really stings because he tried, okay? The deaths at the hands of SI that still keep him up at night, the people he couldn't save and won't be able to save in the future (and, really, that's practically the whole world at this point). And now Steve.
Fixing up Steve's long lost star-crossed lover and practically sending him happy and waiting back into the arms (because, really, like Steve could stay away from Barnes for long. If anyone could get Steve to negotiate the Accords, it's Barnes' presence) of the man he loves (loved? Jury's still out) is just-- Tony doesn't even have words. It's a gut punch. It's nauseating.
Facing what's likely still a brainwashed Solider at least seems marginally easier to handle. Tony knows the script and the steps he has to follow. Barring some crazy heist-like rescue mission on Steve's part, it won't be hard to stick to the plan. Well, other than Tony hopefully getting more information about his parents out of Barnes.
(Did he mention Steve knew and didn't tell Tony? At least some of his pettiness is justified.))
With a sigh, still in the armor sans the face-plate and head piece, Tony enters the room. FRIDAY closes the door behind him, and locks it.
"I'd apologize about the restraints, but contrary to what superhero-ing in a tin can might say about me, I don't actually have a death wish," Tony says, in lieu of a greeting. He hadn't exactly walked in here with the intent to be witty, but Tony tends to deflect with jokes when he's feeling vulnerable.
He steps closer to the gurney. The Soldier's eyes follow Tony, uncomfortably blank. It feels like a rock in his gut, the sheer discomfort of this whole situation, but what makes him truly nauseous is the thing he might have to do next.
Along with The Soldier, they'd caught the man who had set Barnes off. It had definitely cleared a lot of things up, but it also revealed how Hydra had been controlling The Soldier in the first place. Ross wanted him to succeed at all costs, so Tony had all the tools at his disposal.
Yeah. All of them. The code words in that horrific red book, included.
If he needed to make The Soldier see him as his new handler, he was given permission to do so.
But, seriously, like hell was he going to do that. And he was supposed to be undoing the brainwashing, too-- playing into it would be counterintuitive.
(If The Soldier didn't listen to him, Tony might have to use the existence of the book to prove he has... leverage? The upper hand? But that alone was as far as he was willing to go.)
"So, uh, can we call a truce?" He knew The Soldier knew English, but maybe he'd respond better to Russian?
(Coincidentally, it was a language he was-- well, maybe not fluent in, but decent at. It had started when he was looking in more depth into Anton and Ivan Vanko, (lots and lots of old, messy documents that JARVIS couldn't translate for the life of him, that's how nearly illegible they were) and only grew with the presence of Natasha in his life. No, actually, it had started even before that. Yinsen had said that some of the members of the Ten Rings in that cave in Afghanistan had spoken it, and he'd been right. Tony always kept an ear out during those three months, learned as much as he could from Yinsen and/or context clues.)
He wracked his brain for the word or general concept he was trying to convey, and when he got it, and said it, The Soldier actually looked shocked. But Tony bulldozed on, tried not to feed the cocktail of guilt-shame-pettiness-jealousy-angerangeranger-resentment swirling in his stomach more than he already had. "I get you out of those and you don't attack me? Pretty please? I know it's a bad first impression, but the goal isn't-- I don't want to keep you prisoner if I don't have to."
Oh, right. Oxygen mask. Tony awkwardly takes it off for The Soldier, since he's still bound to the gurney. "Capiche? Happy to explain some things when the threat of stabbing becomes minimal."