12

Summary:

Wanda and Pietro arrive in America.

All Darcy wants is her husband.

T'Challa wants to know why Tony Stark isn't like he thought the man should be.

And Yelena is surrounded by idiots.

Notes:

сестра = sister

ястреб = hawk

Chapter Text

"The blue plane. You keep your bag with you. You don't talk to the pilot. You don't take food and drinks on the plane. Wheels up in thirty-five minutes."

"Bathroom?" Yelena asked.

"Over there." The woman pointed to a cinder-block shed. "There's no hot water, but it is clean and drinkable." She went back to the money on the counter.

Yelena rolled her eyes and headed for the shed, she might not have much time, but she should be able to manage a basin-bath and a quick bite to eat, before take-off.

"Salvador." She whispered. "I'm getting closer, сестра ."

July 21st 1999.

Wanda and Pietro clung to each other's hands, looking for all the world like a pair of scared children, as they stepped off of the embassy's lift to come face-to-face with the man that the Sokovian authorities thought was their uncle.

"Clint…" Wanda whispered.

"Hey, kid." Clint gave her a lopsided smile and ruffled her hair. "Speedy." He winked at Pietro, who blinked and gave him a half-hearted smile. "Come on, let's get the paperwork over and done with. The boss gave me a car for the day, but it's still a good four hours to New York."

"Okay…" Wanda's eyes narrowed as Clint's mind practically 'yelled' at her. He was asking her to touch his mind. To read it. 'Are you sure?' She placed the words carefully in his mind.

'Yes!' Came the clear answer.

'3- 2- 1.' She 'told' him before she let a tiny strand of red touch his hand and slither its way up his arm to his head. Images flashed through her mind. Images that she knew and images that she didn't. The next few minutes, as Clint filled out form after form, she sorted through what he'd shown her and shared them with her brother.

'You were right to trust him.' Pietro shared his thoughts with her. 'He is a good man… So is Stark. And that is something that I never expected to say.'

'We did the right thing, then?' She asked, needing his assurance.

'We did.'

~~~

The young woman gasped, as he opened her eyes. "What in the ever-loving fuck?!" She frowned at the room she was in, this was not Erik's truck. "This is… Holy Frigga… This is…" A scream broke the silence and she pun on her heel and ran as fast as she could to the abandoned house's basement. "Oh, no…" She closed her eyes in remembered pain, at what she saw. "How is this possible?"

The almost-ten-year-old girl that lay crumpled and broken at the bottom of the stair was intimately familiar.

"That's… that's me…" She whispered. "I remember this." Tears ran from her eyes, this was the first of her nightmares. The day her parents were killed and she was captured by her own personal Thanos, Adam Templeton; rapist, torturer and child-beater. "Not this time, kid. I can stop him, this time." She remembered the long months of agony, both from her injuries and from his 'attention'. "I can spare you this, at least." She darted from the house and across the road to where she knew the local chief of police lived, and bashed on his door.

When the tired man opened it, with a gun pointed between her eyes, she didn't even hesitate.

"There's a kid in the house across the road, I heard her scream. She's in the basement." She panted.

The chief blinked twice and yelled over his shoulder. "Call the station, get some boys out here!"

"And an ambulance." The woman added.

"And an ambulance!" The chief called as he headed down the stairs, the woman running with him. "Who're you?"

"Jane." She gave him the first name to pop into her head, a name that wasn't hers. "Jane Selvig." A name that came from two of her favourite scientists.

The chief just nodded. "The basement, you said?"

"Yes," She decided to secure the girl's future. "I saw her struggling with a man, then running away from him, he had white blonde hair and a twisted arm. She seemed scared of him."

"Templeton." The chief nodded. "Yeah, he's not a nice guy. I wonder what he was up to?"

"He said something about her parents being dead and no-one would miss her. She kicked him and ran around the back of that house." Darcy pointed at a burnt-out ruin of a building.

"And what were you doing there?" The chief paused as he reached the abandoned house's front steps.

"I… I study fires. The shapes the burns leave can be very… telling." She replied, trying to sound like she was a forensic specialist.

"Huh. You wait here. Send in the crews when they get here." He dismissed her and headed into the house.

The woman calling herself Jane, waited until Elizabeth Bingley, as she had been named at birth, was safely in the hands of the paramedics, before she let herself think about what she'd done. She'd changed her own past, the biggest single no-no of time travel, according every sci-fi movie or book ever written.

"Oh, crap…" She whispered.

"Miss Selvig?" The chief paused in front of her, not surprised to see her looking shocked. "I'd like one of my men to take a statement from you, okay? Then, do you have somewhere to stay? It's getting late."

"I…" She looked around, almost wild-eyed. She couldn't stay here. "I'm an intern, I'm meeting my professor soon. What time is it?"

"Twenty to three." The chief answered.

"I've got time for a statement, but it'll have to be fast. I only have twenty minutes to get to Oakley Road." She said, naming a street that, on foot, could be reached in fifteen minutes but by road, took more than half an hour.

"Then, we'll be as quick as we can." The chief said. "Any Id on you?"

"Oh." She absently patted her trouser pockets. "Did I bring my backpack, or did I leave that with Jane and Eric?" She muttered, letting him think he was talking to herself.

"No backpack, not that I saw." The chief answered.

"Crap. Then, no. No Id, my wallet was in my backpack and if it's not with me, then it's still in the truck." Or that was where she had last seen it, but that was in 2025, not 1999.

"You can bring it to the station later, then." The chief offered. "For now tell me what you saw and heard."

It took her five minutes to tell the chief the story that she'd decided upon, she knew that Elizabeth wouldn't remember anything. Her first memory after Templeton found her, was from nearly a month later.

"Thank you, Miss Selvig." The chief said. "If you'll being your Id to the station in the next day or two, we'd much appreciate it. For now, you're free to go."

She gave him a tired smile, grateful that she had dirt and ash, from the burnt-out house, smeared over her face and on her clothes, it would camouflage her appearance, slightly. She turned to the path that would take her through the park and around the lake to Oakley Road. Her parents' house was only a block from there and she knew how to reach it without being seen. She needed clothes and money and she remembered where her father kept his drinking money and where her mother hid the housekeeping money from him.

It took her less than ten minutes to reach the house, she was very motivated and her husband had been an excellent personal trainer. For a moment, she hesitated, then she snorted. DNA wasn't an issue. Her DNA was already, all over this house, this was where she'd lived, after all. She quickly raided her mother's clothes, slightly alarmed at how well they fit, before heading into the kitchen.

Here, she raided her father's chewing tobacco tin and took all three hundred dollars, that it held. Then she went to the pantry and pushed aside the boxes on the floor, until she got to the one that she wanted. Dog Kibble. She carefully slid the box to the front and lifted the sleeve-cover from the inside box.

It was full of money. One-dollar bills. Five-dollar bills. Tens. Twenties. And even a couple of fifties.

"Jackpot." She whispered. "Now, I just need something to carry it all- Oh… oh, yes." She cut herself off partway through the sentence. "This is 1999, I was ten, Mom bought me a new bag for school, for when I started middle school." She grinned. "I can use that. No-one knows about it, yet." She leapt to her feet and quickly and quietly ran down the stairs to the basement. "Now, where did we put it? Oh, yeah… Behind the clothes horse." She scrabbled around until she felt a strand of fabric webbing and let her fingers close around it. "Yes!" She crowed and danced a little as she left the basement.

Back in the kitchen, she sorted the money into bricks and tied them with rubber bands.

"Three thousand, eight hundred and ninety dollars. Not bad, I can work with that." She mused. "Now… where to go?" She had no Id and outside of the few clothes and money she'd grabbed, she had nothing usable. But her husband had trained her well; clothes and money were enough to get her started.

She heard a car door slam and jerked to attention. "That better not be here." She muttered, hurrying to the front of the house to peek through a window. Seeing a truck leave their only neighbour's drive, heading towards town, had her slumping in relief. "Not here. Good." As she turned back towards the kitchen, a newspaper laying on the sofa caught her eye. "What the…?" She picked up the paper and quickly read the subtitles. "Is that…?" She flicked the paper open to the appropriate page and studied it.

"Sweet baby Thor…" She whispered before her jaw snapped shut and her eyes went hard. "Someone has some answering to do."

She gathered up the backpack and slung it over her shoulder as she stepped out of the back door. A pause, as her eyes fell on the garden shed.

"Yeah…" She grinned. "I can do that." She remembered her father going on a 'good parenting' spree and buying a motorbike for him and her to fix up, to 'spend some quality father-daughter time' together. They'd spent a month repairing the bike and had taken it for a test ride only the day before. Back into the house and up to her parents' room and a root around in the closet, got her a helmet and a leather jacket, with the bike's keys tucked into a pocket. A little too big for her in the shoulders, but the chest fit about right.

The bike started with a press of a button. "Thank Thor for electric starters." She laughed as she eased the bike onto the road and turned away from town. Yes, she needed a public phone, but not one in Florida. She would wait until she reached Georgia or South Carolina.

~~~

Three hours later... her butt hurt and her hands were going numb. She let the bike roll to a stop in the front of a tiny Summerville, South Carolina, truck stop. She pulled herself from the bike and groaned as she stretched towards the sky.

"Long ride?" A voice asked and she turned towards it.

"Jacksonville, Florida." She replied. It wasn't where she'd started but it wasn't far from it.

"Ooh, ouch." The elderly woman said cheerfully.

"You a local?"

"Born and bred." The woman said proudly.

"I'm…" Jane said. "My… um… let's call him an Ex. He burnt my Id and smashed my cell, to stop me from leaving. I got money but no Id, do ya know of anywhere around here that'll let me stay the night, without asking too many questions?"

"You hurt?" The woman asked, leaning forward.

"No, I'm fine. We split a few years back and I moved on, got married and all. But a family member died recently and that put me back in proximity to him and he didn't take it well. I grabbed my pop's bike and the emergency cash and… well… here I am…"

"You got a number where you can reach your husband?"

"Yeah, I think so. If not, a few minutes with a computer and I can find it."

~~~

"Mrs Barton? Call for you, on line two." One of the office staff informed Laura.

"Thank you, Evelyn." Laura nodded to the woman and picked up the nearest phone and pressed the button to connect to line two. "Laura Barton, speaking."

"Laursey, Laursey, where's my hubby?" A tired voice asked.

Laura blinked and pulled the receiver away from her ear to look at it in disbelief, before slowly bringing it back to her ear, as though it might attack her.

"Laura? Laura, you there?"

"Darcy…?"

"Yes!" There was an explosive sigh. "Three questions."

"Yes?"

"One, where is my husband? Two, I'm in Summerville, South Carolina, can someone come and fetch me? And three? What did the boss do, this time?"

Laura sighed, she'd learnt the hard way, never to underestimate Darcy. "I'll sort something out about transport. Probably need to send your husband to fetch you."

"Please…?" It came as almost a plea.

"If you give me a moment, I can transfer you to his cell, while I sort out a plane."

"Ohh, yes, please…" This time it was definitely a plea.

Bucky's phone beeped at him and JARVIS spoke. "Sergeant Barnes, I have a call ready to transfer to your phone and Mrs Barton is requesting a pilot to pick up a VIP from South Carolina."

"And as Clint's in DC, I'm the only pilot available for VIP's." Bucky groaned.

"Yes, sir."

"Can I beg out of this?" Bucky felt like he was whining and he hated whining.

"I… don't believe you want to do that, sir." JARVIS countered.

"Why?" He frowned.

"Take the call, if when you're finished, you don't wish to retrieve the VIP, I will happily find someone else." JARVIS replied.

"Right." Bucky sighed. "Transfer the call."

"Yes, sir." JARVIS seemed almost amused and the line clicked.

"Hello?" He said.

"Bucky-babe…" The voice that he heard, was not one he expected to hear.

"Darcy…?" He whispered, his eyes wide with shock. And it took a lot, to shock the man who had been the Winter Soldier.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Darcy? Where are you?" Bucky spoke urgently.

"Summerville, South Carolina."

"You're the VIP that Laura wants picked up?" He wondered aloud.

"Yes, please. Can you come and get me? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Darcy said, eagerly and Bucky could imagine her nodding fervently.

"Go get something to eat. I'm on my way." Bucky was already heading for his room, he needed to shower and get changed, he wasn't seeing his wife, for the first time in nine years, wearing sweat pants, after having run ten miles.

"Thank you." She whispered as the call cut out.

"JARVIS?" Bucky asked as he entered the house.

"A jet is being prepared and a flight plan to Summerville Airport is being lodged as we speak, sir." JARVIS answered. "By the time you've showered and reached the hanger, the jet will be ready and the plan should be registered and approved. Flight time to Summerville is approximately two hours, depending on winds, as well as take-off and landing congestion."

"Can you let Tony know?" Bucky leapt up the stairs.

"I have already done so and he says, and I quote. 'You married Short Stack, holy shit Barnes, that's impressive. Go get her.' Ms Potts smacked him upside the head and told him to concentrate on what he was doing. She also said that she, Miss Rushmanov and I, would see to placing all the documentation Mrs Barnes needs. We all know that sooner or later, someone is going to try and dig into her past. It's best that they only find, what we want them to find."

Bucky laughed and entered his suite. He headed straight for the bathroom and striped off his clothes while he waited for the water to heat. He was going to see his wife.

~~~

The jet rolled to a halt in front of the hanger and Darcy waited for the door to open. When it did and she saw her husband's face, she darted forward and into his arms.

"Hi." She said, between pressing kisses all over his face.

"Doll." He reached up with his metal hand and laced it into her hair, pulling her lips to his.

Seconds ticked over into minutes before the pair pulled back.

"Hi." She repeated.

"Darcy." Bucky sighed, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"So? I have questions?"

"Fire away, doll."

"Who screwed up? Who's responsible for this? Do I get to tase them? Why was your picture on the front page of the Florida Times? Are you really working with Tony Stark? Why? And lastly… Can I sit up front with you?"

"That's complicated, doll." Bucky grimaced. "Let's get back in the air and I'll tell you what we know and what we've done about it. In order? Not sure and not sure. If we ever figure it out, yes!. It wasn't me, it was Tony, I was just in the background. Yes, I'm Tony's bodyguard. I work with him because we both have the same end goal and I think I like him? And yes, you can sit up front." He tried to lead her towards the jet.

"Hold up…" She pulled back against his hand.

"Doll?"

"The bike. It's my dad's… Please?" She looked from Bucky to the bike and back.

"It's okay, Darcy, there's room in cabin, we can bring it with us." Bucky assured her with a smile. Nortons weren't the heaviest of bikes, a 750cc like that, was only 400-odd pounds, he could pick that up and put it in the plane, if Darcy steered the front wheel. "Gonna need you to steer it, though."

"Oh… thank you, babe…" There were tears in her eyes.

~~~

August 4th 1999

T'Chaka and T'Challa emerged into the light of the airport and made their way through customs.

"We must bring Wakanda to the world, my son, and soon." T'Chaka sighed.

"Customs are still customs, father, not even kings can avoid them." T'Challa laughed quietly.

"No, perhaps not, but a king would have people to carry his luggage for him." T'Chaka replied, smartly, earning himself a true laugh from his son. He had missed the boy's quick smile, there had been little to smile about in his tale of the future.

T'Challa stopped as they walked from the baggage claims towards the door and the waiting cabs.

"T'Challa?"

"Look." T'Challa pointed at a magazine cover.

"That is not the Tony Stark, you told me of."

"No it is not." T'Challa agreed. "I wonder why?"

~~~

August 5th 1999.

Yelena sighed as she stripped the weapons and cash from yet another idiot, that thought, that as a child alone she was an easy target. Only this time, the idiot came with friends that sat back and watched as she punished him for his presumptions.

"Alright, gentlemen, here's how it's going to go." She said in English with a strong French accent. "My transport was… chosen without consultation and has turned out to be… little more than useless. I am expected in Belem by Saturday." She narrow her eyes at the three worried looking men. "And you are going to get me there. Aren't you?"

All three men nodded vigorously, clearly afraid of the pre-pubescent girl. All of them eyeing the man laying, moaning, on the floor of the empty warehouse.

"Good." She smiled and watched them wince. 'Getting closer, сестра. Please be there, ястреб.' She thought to herself.