Chapter 84: Peace

“Luke. Luke, wake up.”

“Mmm yeah, Mom. I’m up. I’m up.”

Luke dragged himself upright and slumped back against the headboard with all the grace of a half-dead sloth.

He watched Claire, his mom, dust cobwebs off the ceiling. He felt bad. She already ran the house and helped Jay, the grandfather, with his closet company.

But he also knew better than to interfere.

A couple of weeks ago, he actually tried to help with the laundry and got a massive scolding instead. It absolutely was not his fault that someone threw a small maroon top into a sorted basket of white clothes.

That someone was obviously Haley.

Luke let out a quiet sigh.

It had been five days since the worldwide chaos. Luke had come home after his “trip.” People still remembered what had happened. The news was still talking about it… People were still arguing about it online. The world had not forgotten the horror, but it had also not stopped moving.

As Luke watched Claire attack another spiderweb, he remembered the impossible mission Phil had given him.

That man had pushed the heavy responsibility of convincing this scary woman to sacrifice her beloved she-shed. She probably viewed that shed as her ultimate den of peace away from their chaotic house.

Luke could already imagine how that conversation would go.

Such a damn cowardly move. Convince her yourself.

But still, considering the solid bond he had with Phil, Luke felt he had to at least try.

“Um… Mom?”

“Yes, Luke?” Claire turned to him, and her tone clearly meant she did not want to hear anything useless.

“… The weather is great today.”

Luke immediately surrendered.

She gave him a flat, deadpan look before sighing and walking right out of the room.

Luke waited until she was gone.

“Good talk.”

It was going to be a million times easier to convince Phil to give up on the batting cage than to ask Claire to give up her shed.

.

.

.

“She’s too scary.”

“Whaaaat?” Phil whined, throwing his hands in the air like a disappointed kid. “I thought you were going to hit her with the puppy dog eyes! Those eyes melt her heart every single time!”

“I am older now, Dad. My puppy dog eyes expired.”

“You literally used them 2 days ago.”

“That was pure luck, Dad. You cannot keep expecting miracles.”

Phil slumped onto the kitchen stool like a sad golden retriever that just dropped his favorite tennis ball.

“Fine. The batting cage dream is dead. No more hitting records, no more father-son competitions.” Phil looked down at the counter sadly. “And… I also worry she’ll spend more time in that she-shed than she does with us.”

Luke sighed and looked at the man’s sad face. He felt kind of bad for him too, now.

Was Phil using the puppy dog eyes? Luke wasn’t sure.

He did not want to take sides, but with Claire’s masculine personality, there was a high chance she would use the batting cage more than them anyway.

“Well,” Luke said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “it might still be possible.”

Phil looked up with hope. His heart thumped at Luke’s words.

Right now, Claire was at work. Haley was at her assistant job at some beauty brand. Alex was in Antarctica. It was safe.

“Here’s the plan. I’ll pave the way for you and give you the perfect situation.” Luke sat down and steepled his hands.

“At that moment, no matter how scary or angry she is, you have to say to her what you just said to me. Leave out the part about your excitement for the batting cage, of course, and focus more on YOUR fear of time without her…”

Luke’s plan was pretty simple and a little evil in the best family way.

He would casually let Claire find out that Phil had been plotting the batting cage behind her back. Once she heard that, her temper would flare up over how selfish he was being.

Except instead of doing what Phil usually did when Claire was angry – which was panic, talk too much, make several terrible jokes, and somehow make the situation three times worse – he would do the exact opposite.

He would accept his mistake and be vulnerable.

It was a basic strategy, but it worked flawlessly. As it turns out, ladies really do dig a little genuine vulnerability.

And that is how peace was restored in the Dunphy house, at least for one more day.

Later that night, once everyone else had gone to sleep, Luke sat in front of his laptop.

He was not working on any freelance project this time. He was deep into research on the kinds of drugs and medications doctors usually gave to nutty people.

After several long days of reading dry medical papers and half-useful online forums, he finally finished what he needed.

He stood up, stretched the stiffness out of his back, and pulled on a surgical mask, a black cap, and dark sunglasses. With a quick tap, he switched on the anti-surveillance mode of his system.

The warehouse of a certain drug company had already been marked days ago. A short trip later, he had the medicines he wanted, and with another quiet jump through space, he landed on the Helicarrier.

Luke changed into his terror outfit and then… Veritas walked toward a quiet section of the ship.

In the middle of several mechanical and digital consoles stood a large cylindrical glass prison, the same design used for Loki in the Battle of New York.

It had originally been built for the Hulk. Right now it held a long-haired man with only one arm.

“Hello, Bucky. Are you hungry?” Veritas asked cheerfully, lifting a large bag of medicines.

Bucky sighed and pushed himself up on the inflatable bed. He had already accepted his strange fate under this self-proclaimed psycho therapist.

There was definitely more psycho than therapy in the deal, but for the moment, being locked up and fed was still better than sleeping in cryo, getting electrocuted in the head and then getting sent out to kill people again.

Plus, his mind felt a little clearer. The constant brain fog had thinned. A few more memories had floated back. Not many, but something.

“By the way, how are you liking that brand new water cooler I got you?” Veritas asked as he entered the cage.

“It does not cool the water,” Bucky replied with a completely flat tone.

“Not the cooler’s fault. There’s no power socket in here,” Veritas said, dropping onto the bean bag across from the Winter Soldier. “Anyway, how’s the memory recovery going? Anything new from your past?”

“Just foggy details of a few old missions… and some short glimpses of my childhood.”

“That’s honestly solid progress.”

Veritas asked more questions about those memories and what Bucky felt when they came back.

Bucky gave a strange answer. The childhood pieces still felt like they belonged to someone else, while the mission memories felt completely his own.

“That’s interesting…” Veritas muttered.

An hour of quiet, awkward therapy followed, he even told Bucky what medicines he needed to consume and when. When the session ended, Veritas leaned forward with a small grin.

“By the way, Soldier.”

Bucky immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

“How about a little sparring session?”

Luke needed some actual hand-to-hand experience. It was a perfect opportunity to get some actual guidance and practice.

Bucky stared at him.

“No.”

He thought the Jester just wanted to beat him up.

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Just hands. No powers.”

“I have one hand.”