Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TWO MONTHS LATER

They were about 42,000 feet in the air, cloaked in a SHIELD helicarrier, heading straight into Russia territory. Geared up, Bucky was leaning casually back in his seat, watching Romanoff tap her right foot against the ground. It was one of her only tells. He would know, he had trained her out of most of them in the Red Room. Although, a few still remained. Foot tapping was one, flicking her wrist was another. He doubted she even realized she was doing it.

Barton was up at the front, pestering Steve while he fiddled with the controls. Both wore big chunky headsets and anytime either of them spoke into the coms, their voices crackled.

Due to the stealth aspect of the mission, Stark and Banner were absent. Although, that didn’t deter Iron Man from making snide comments about Cap’s flying abilities. Bucky felt a shock of guilt run through him every time the man spoke. It felt like he was being continuously impaled with ice shards.

Wilson was sitting next to him, reading a book and generally minding his own business. He was mainly there for air support if it came down to it. So the red goggles were tossed off to the side and the wings were retracted in against his back. Despite being on friendly terms with everyone on the team, he kept everyone in his line of sight and had to shift every so often to make sure he was out of range of the Falcon’s wings.

The real threat was sitting across from him, eyes drilling into his head. Rumlow and his Strike team were there on Fury’s orders, none of them offered an explanation for what they were there for. About half of them were Hydra though, so Bucky had his guesses.

Bucky caught Sitwell’s gaze and held it for a long moment. The man seemed so innocent. Trailing after Cap and the Widow like a fanboy. Asking after the wellbeing of everyone on his team. Even Romanoff liked him. He was good, Bucky had to give him that. Didn’t stop him from wanting to pick him up by his throat and chuck him into space.

His metal arm flexed and Sam eyed him warily, fingers tapping out a rhythm against the cover of his book. No matter how convincing Bucky had been, Romanoff and Wilson remained the hardest to trick. It was frustrating. Yet, Bucky found himself being proud of the Widow. She wasn’t his student, far from it. If anything, she was an enemy in the same ranks, an assassin deadly enough to rival his own skills. That didn’t stop him from thinking about the young girl who fought in the arena like she was dancing, about the smallest Widow who rescued a kitten and hid it in her bedsheets for a week. Natalia Romanova had been the closest thing to humanity he’d felt for seventy years.

He adjusted the straps on his suit and leaned forward, spine snapping up straight when he noticed the plane lowering.

Steve flipped the switch and the helicarrier began coasting along on autopilot. He kicked his shield up into his hand and gestured for Clint to follow him towards the airlock.

“We won’t be able to touch down completely,” Steve informed them. He was staring out the window at the snowy hills below. “Me and Romanoff will go out first a few miles away from the base and then Hawkeye and Bucky will follow and head towards the trees and pick off any stragglers.”

Rumlow pulled a face. “And us?”

Steve shared a glance with Black Widow. A silent understanding passed between them. “You have your orders. I have mine. Do what you’re here to do and stay out of the line of fire.”

“Understood.”

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned in towards Bucky. “Here we fucking go, man. He’s about to jump out of the goddamn plane and scare the Strike team shitless.”

Bucky, who had been imagining Rumlow’s lifeless body twisted in a tree branch, hurried to avert his attention to the Falcon. “Jump?”

He got his answer a few minutes later when the airlock opened with a loud suction noise and Steve immediately bailed out, hands and legs spread wide like he was a squirrel. Romanoff followed out afterwards, giving Clint an obligatory fist bump and opening up her parachute.

Clint caught his eye and grinned, sharp as a knife.

“Fucking super soldiers,” Rumlow muttered.

Feeling antagonistic, Bucky stood up and left the parachute sitting on the seat next to him. Wilson threw up his hands in exasperation and Bucky bit down the smirk that threatened to show.

Hovering near the airlock, he took a look down and the cold wind whipped him in the face near instantly. Memories of trekking in the snow hit him and he furrowed his brow, casting them aside. He’d piece it together later when lives weren’t on the line.

“Ready?” Hawkeye asked, bouncing on his toes.

Bucky took a step off and plunged downwards. He tucked his body into a ball and rolled through the air, hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight. Snow and wind made his eyes flutter and he squinted through it, vision blurry. Realizing he was plummeting towards a thick patch of trees, he formed his body into a line and led the way with his head, angling so he’d fly through the middle and land in a lump of snow.

When he finally landed he landed hard. He didn’t so much as roll to a stop as he did knock himself into a tree stump and slam his head into a rock. Pain erupted along the left side of his head and he gingerly prodded at his temple, hand coming away wet with bright red blood.

He used the tree to assist him in getting up, vision going in and out of focus. It wasn’t the first time he’d jumped out of a plane without a parachute. Hell, he’d been tossed out of his fair share. But he never remembered it hurting quite that bad.

Barton’s white parachute drifted slowly down to the ground and Bucky gently made his way over to him, wiping away the blood onto his tactical vest.

As soon as he’d gathered Barton, together they blended in and out of trees, mixing their footsteps with animal tracks. The weather was freezing, even for a super soldier, and by the time they made it to the top of the hill, Clint’s teeth were chattering and his fingertips were red and tingling.

“I’ll g-gg-go left,” Barton said. He pointed at a storage unit in the distance, a few feet away from the underground base. It had no markings on it, no identifiers. Unlike Hydra who burned their image into everything they owned. “Take them out from the roof.”

Bucky grunted. There weren’t any other options for a sniper to hide out. Everything was open and clear. His only cover would be the storm.

“I’ll find something,” he finally told him.

Barton raised an eyebrow, or tried to. It was too damn cold to move. “Make sure I don’t shoot you.”

Bucky tossed him his gloves, baring his skin to the harsh environment. Clint fumbled to catch them and then hastily pulled them over his pair.

“What about you?”

“I’ve got the serum,” said Bucky. He looked at the base again. For some reason it was difficult to look straight at. “Besides, they only need one good sniper out here.”

“You going back?” Clint was shocked.

“Nah,” Bucky pulled out a gun. He registered the sound of the Strike team coming from the woods beyond them. “I’m going in.”

Not waiting for a response, Bucky marched forward. He heard Clint swear colorfully but registered his movement out of the corner of his eye. He was heading towards the shed, blonde hair fading in and out of sight.

Pausing just outside the door, Bucky took a deep breath. The entrance to the base looked similar to a garage door. It was metal, presumably bulletproof and stained with rust. There was a single light above it, stale yellow and flickering. His head throbbed and he placed his metal fingers against the wound. It had already clotted over but it was still tender to the touch. No concussion, which was good. Possible bruising for an hour or two, which was embarrassing but manageable.

Rogers and Romanoff had gone through the other side to give them the element of surprise. It was an old KGB training camp, though Romanoff showed no signs of knowing it. SHIELD had been monitoring it throughout the years, as it had mainly stayed untouched. It was yesterday when Fury made the call and informed the Avengers of a suspected child trafficking taking place here. He’d wanted the team to be stealthy going in, due to the potential child endangerment. Fury and Hill believed that the trafficking was unrelated to any Russian plot but Bucky knew better. All the children that had been taken were girls from the ages of eight to thirteen, with either no living family or parents that were involved in shady government business, willing to pawn off their children for Lord knows how much money.

He’d watched Romanoff through the whole debriefing. She had shown little to no emotion besides anger and even that was condensed, practiced. She knew damn well what they were using these kids for and it wasn’t sex or drug laundering like SHIELD thought.

Bucky punched through the steel door and then pried it open.

Slipping inside, he crouched down low. When no alarms went off, he moved down into the first hallway. It was dark and smelled damp. The walls were made out of hard concrete but the further down he explored the more cracks appeared. The database said that the KGB had used this place for many years during the Cold War, but he wondered how long they’d really had it. God knows Romanoff wasn’t as young as she claimed to be.

He started to get suspicious when he went down the stairs and cleared out multiple levels and didn’t encounter so much as a cockroach. Straining his hearing, he attempted to listen for the sound of fighting but couldn’t hear anything besides water dripping. Bucky paused, tilting his head. There were supposedly only thirteen levels and he was on number nine. Surely he’d be able to hear gunshots with the serum.

Someone’s feet clanged onto the staircase a level above him and he spun into motion, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over it with his metal arm. Hanging off the side, his feet dangled over the air. Even with his advanced eyesight, he couldn’t see anything below. He hooked his feet into the side and then began climbing underneath it, metal arm straining as he flipped himself upside down.

Light footsteps sounded and the metal staircase he was under began to tremble slightly. Whoever it was had training. He could barely hear the sound of their breathing.

A few feet away from where he was waiting, the footsteps stopped.

Bucky’s pulse thundered in his ears.

His com burst to life.

“So,” Stark’s voice said. He didn’t seem amused. “Either you decided to dye your hair blonde on the plane and wear a purple bodysuit or there’s only one sniper on the roof. Which is it?”

The railing shook. He adjusted his grip and tried to peer through the bars to get a glimpse, though he couldn’t see much except the green tinted wall above. Then there was a clang against the side of the staircase and he realized too late that whoever it was had the same idea he did.

A silhouette flipped over the side and he made eye contact with wide green eyes.

“Barnes,” Stark repeated.

He dangled with one hand and reached out to mute his coms. Then he let go altogether and dropped down to the next level. His knees took the brunt of it, creaking when coming into contact with the ground. A swish of air and then the Widow was doing the same thing. She tossed a knife at him and he caught it over his shoulder.

“Bucky?” Steve asked. “Stark said he can’t reach you. What’s going on?”

He flung it back at her and took off running.

Throwing himself down the stairs, he came to a rolling stop as she launched herself over his head and landed on the balls of her feet, arm out like a ballerina. She cocked her head at him, eyeing the metal arm.

“Soldat,” she said.

Bucky bristled. “I no longer go by that name.”

Blonde hair fell into her face and she didn’t make any move to push it back. Spread out like that on the floor she looked like her namesake.

Yelena blinked at him. “What name should I call you?”

She had an audible Russian accent, though it wasn’t perfect. There was a hint of American in it. A lilt of a New Yorker. Of Brooklyn. Bucky stood slowly, hands out at his sides.

“I think I should be asking you that.”

Yelena spat at him. “Did they send you here to kill me?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. She had a cut on her right cheekbone, infected from the looks of it. Possibly sliced open with a rusted knife. She was holding herself at an angle, sucking in her stomach and breathing shallowly. Most likely due to broken ribs. Her bodysuit was loose and streaked with dirt and dark spots. The shoulder was singed.

“That depends,” Bucky responded carefully. His shoulder blades were tight with tension. He hadn’t fought a Widow in a long time. He wasn’t eager to repeat the experience in a base filled with children and on top of an unstable staircase. “Who sent you here?”

“Can we get eyes on Barnes?” Wilson asked.

Her upper lip curled in distaste. “Nobody sends me anywhere. Not anymore. And if you try to make me go back, I will chop off the other arm and send it to them.”

He relaxed his stance. “You defected.”

Yelena didn’t relax, not in the slightest. A knife appeared in her hand and with a press of a finger the sides of it erupted in blue sparks. “It’s clever of them to send you here, looking like that, speaking English. But I won’t let you take me again. I won’t let them take these girls.”

“I’m not here for you,” Bucky assured her. Regardless, if she moved a centimeter towards him he was going to break her arm. He was not fond of electricity and didn’t know what it would do to him if he was exposed to it. Send him into a murderous rage perhaps. “And I’m not here to hurt anyone. I got away from HYDRA a few years back. I’m not here on any orders.”

She rose up on her tiptoes. “So this is some coincidence?”

“Buck!” Steve shouted. “Answer me!”

She threw the knife and he dodged it, spinning around and grabbing her by the hair. Pulling her into him, he wrapped his metal arm around her neck, not strangling, simply resting. She thrashed against him and tried to hook her leg around his to flip him over. He slammed her down against the railing, stunning her briefly.

“Listen to me,” he rumbled. “Captain America and the Black Widow are under us right now, trying to get those girls out. I’m not supposed to be in here and I haven’t answered my com. If Steve comes up here and sees you attacking me, he’s going to bring you into SHIELD. And that’s assuming Natasha Romanoff doesn’t realize who and what you are and put lead in your skull.”

Yelena panted. “You think the Avengers frighten me?”

Steve was cussing him out.

“I think the Red Room does,” Bucky answered. Her body was so stiff against him it felt like holding a marble statue. “I think HYDRA does.”

“Captain America would not hand me over to them,” Yelena said calmly. Her voice was blank. She no longer had an accent. It sent chills down his spine. “And I am not worried about SHIELD. They cannot contain me.”

“You aren’t a United States citizen,” Bucky snarled. He was running out of time. The last thing he needed was the calvary busting in the middle. “And you have a list of crimes longer than most terrorists. One word from Russia and they hand you over to their government to deal with. Maybe you’ll get lucky and you won’t be brainwashed immediately. Maybe they’ll torture you first. Or maybe they’ll line you up and put you in front of a firing squad.”

“Fuck you.”

He pushed her away and she caught herself on the railing. Her eyes were blazing.

“So you can either trust me or you can walk away.”

Yelena snarled. “Or I can kill you and rid the world of HYDRA’s lapdog.”

His hand flexed and she took a step backwards. She looked afraid. She looked like the kid that she had been when they’d gotten their hands on her. There were deep bags under her eyes and her hair was matted to her forehead. Bucky was torn between his warring instincts to either shoot her or wrap her up in a blanket and feed her warm soup.

He hit the unmute button.

“Jesus,” Bucky drawled. “Give a guy five minutes to figure this thing out. Or did you forget that I’ve only been awake for two and a half months and still can’t operate an iPhone.”

Stark sighed. “Honestly, that’s fair.”

“Where the hell are you?” Steve demanded. “Why aren’t you at your post?”

Bucky rotated his right shoulder and his collarbone popped with a sickening crunch. He put his hands on his hips, fingertips grazing the top of his gun. “Got lost.”

Wilson muttered something unflattering.

“You guys are a bunch of motherhens,” Clint groaned. “He went inside the building.”

“You did what?” Steve growled dangerously. “You aren’t cleared for combat yet.”

Yelena rolled her eyes and pulled up her hair, hair tie hanging between her teeth. She was still watching him like a wild animal about to snap.

“Oh no?” Bucky said, sotto voce. “Just to kill people from a distance, right?”

“Can we talk about this after?” Romanoff breathed. A gunshot echoed in the background. Someone was crying. “Barnes, we could use your help down here.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Yelena and she glared at him.

“Where are the kids?”

“Level thirteen,” Romanoff said, sounding exhausted. “We can’t get to them. There’s too many guards blocking the place. You think you can make it down there?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Then he muted his coms again.

Yelena looked at him, expectantly. “Well, are we going or not?”

He clenched his jaw. “Just don’t shoot me.”

She stuck her chin out. “No promises.”

Together they climbed down the next three levels. On the eleventh level he heard the sounds of fighting and picked up the pace. The entire time, Yelena stayed in front of him, hand curved around the handle of her knife like she was waiting for her chance to gut him.

Simultaneously they dropped down onto the thirteenth level, near soundlessly. A guard spun around, aiming his gun and Yelena released her knife and embedded it into his eyeball.

They stepped over the body just in time for more guards to come rushing down the hallway.

“Во3ьми девочек,” Yelena instructed. Then she kicked a gun out of a guard’s hand and tapped her wrists together and her knife came flying back to her, dripping with blood.

Bucky dodged a bullet and grabbed a guy by the neck and used him as a shield in a completely reverse move from Steve. Once he was close enough, he reached out and bent a gun, twisting the rifle around. Then he shoved the man forward and shot them both in the head as they tumbled to the ground.

“Зимний солдат!” Somebody screamed.

He made his way through the masses, blocking bullets with his metal arm and kicking guards into Yelena’s orbit. His mind was on autopilot. He didn’t register how many people he was killing or had killed. Fighting was as natural as breathing to Bucky.

Face awash in blood and gore, he strutted into the hallway and came face to face with a petrified scientist. He opened his mouth to speak and Bucky shot him in the head, once, twice, three times. Body jolting everytime the bullets entered his brain.

There was a green door at the end of the corridor. As he made his way towards it, he clocked a camera hidden in the right corner. He made eye contact with it and raised his middle finger. Then he kicked the door open and was greeted by thirty tiny faces.

He screeched to a halt, staring.

The girls were huddled together in the middle of the room, hands cuffed behind their backs. Most of them were in pajamas, eyes wide with terror. The youngest seemed to be around eight or nine and she was hiding in the middle, shoulders shaking with sobs.

His mind flashed back to when he’d been taken captive with the 107th. How the soldiers had grouped together for warmth and support. How whenever someone would enter their cell and cart one of them away, they would stare listlessly. Eyes drained of life, of hope.

The girl's eyes looked like those soldiers.

He crouched down. “Do any of you speak English?”

Three of them nodded.

One burst into tears.

He ground his teeth together. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m going to get you out of here.” When all he got back was blank looks, he repeated the phrase again in Russian, German and Italian. “Alright, my name is Bucky. Can I know yours?”

A few hesitant voices spoke up.

He held out a hand towards the oldest girl in the room. Her name was Alana and she spoke Italian and some English. She looked him straight in the eyes and held out her wrists and allowed him to pick the lock on the handcuffs. When they were off, she didn’t move to pull her hands back, just frowned at him.

“Home?” She questioned.

He nodded and she turned to the others to whisper. Soon another girl was crawling towards him. She had a white nightgown on and her knees were scabbed over. When Bucky went to touch her, she flinched away, lowering her head like she was preparing to be struck.

Bile burned in his throat.

“Hurt,” one of the girls informed him.

He held out his flesh hand and lowered it to her face slowly, waiting for her to pull away. He cupped her soft chubby cheeks in his hand and wiped at her tears. Then he tapped her on the nose and made a honking noise. Pretending to be startled, he fell backwards, eyes comically large.

She giggled and he did it again.

Eventually she reached out and tapped his nose. He went cross eyed trying to look at it.

While she was distracted he undid her handcuffs, casually whistling under his breath. Finished, she moved backwards, showing her freed hands to the other girls. As she moved Bucky spotted a spot of blood on her underwear and felt anger so strong it almost knocked him off his feet.

As he undid another set of handcuffs, he glanced over his shoulder and checked to make sure the coast was clear. Only to find Yelena standing near the doorway, blonde hair washed in red, with red rimmed eyes. She looked ready to collapse.

Yelena looked at him and nodded firmly. Then a noise in the hallway distracted her and she vanished out of thin air.

One of the girls grabbed at his hair and frowned. “Spiky?”

He smiled. “Yeah, kid. It is spiky.”

And just like magic, Natasha Romanoff rounded the corner, breathing heavily and limping. She paused when she saw him with the girls.

He hoisted one up on his hip and stood up. Immediately the little girl tucked her face into his neck and closed her eyes.

Gently, he threaded his metal fingers through her tangled hair. The squishy, human part of him wanted to curl up in a hole and cry. The soldier part of him knew he needed to finish the mission.

“Готовый?” He asked.

***

Everyone was staring at him. He had thirty little girls sitting in a circle around him, with one sitting on his lap, drooling on his metal arm. Leaning back against the seat, he watched the clouds pass out the window behind Sam’s head.

Clint approached him with a wet washcloth for his face and one of the girls startled, snorting awake from her deep sleep. He glared, patting her head and making soothing noises.

“I’ll kill you,” he mouthed at Barton.

Wisely he backed away.

Steve was staring at him with his mouth open. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was because of the blood or because of the tiny army he had acquired.

“Are you okay?” Steve mouthed finally.

Bucky gave him a thumbs up, blinking heavily. He knew he shouldn’t fall asleep with Rumlow in his presence but couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Besides, Steve was there. And Steve wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.

He drifted off.

***

Romanoff approached him while he was in the men’s showers. He looked up as she came barreling in, walking past where Steve and Clint were sitting on the benches and opening the door and climbing in with him. She was wearing a plain black tank top and her curls were drooping as the water droplets fell off them.

“Yes?” He asked.

She just looked at him searchingly. “How did you do it?”

Bucky propped his elbow against the wall and leaned against it. “Do what?”

“How did you get through all of them?” Romanoff demanded. Her eyes were hard. “There were bodies stacked on top of each other when I got down there. At least forty guards with guns and ammunition. And barely a scratch on you.”

He shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She took a step closer to him. Much like he had experienced earlier with Yelena, a surge of adrenaline went through his body at her proximity. “There was a knife stuck in one of them. An electric knife that connects to a bracelet. It’s a cheap knock off to my Widow bites that Stark made. And as someone who prides herself on knowing what type of weapons a person has on them at any given time, I know you didn’t walk in there with those. So I want to know who else was there with you.”

Bucky reached out and adjusted one of her straps that was falling down. His voice was low when he spoke. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. There was no one else down there but me.”

“And the knife?”

“Maybe you imagined it.”

The Widow appraised him, visibly squaring him up and reassessing. “You’re hiding something.”

He gestured obnoxiously at his body. “Obviously not from you, doll.”

The water was making a weird sound every time it pinged against his metal arm. Romanoff’s gaze followed his and they both stared. His pulse picked up significantly.

“You fell off a train, huh?” She murmured.

He softened his expression, it took effort. “That’s what it says in the history books, don’t it?”

Steve knocked on the door. Bucky could see his blue eyes.

‘Natasha?” He said. “You know this is the men’s shower, right?”

She reached down and rubbed at a spot low on her abdomen. Bucky knew if she were to push her shirt up he’d see an exit wound from a bullet. He clenched his jaw and kept his gaze from straying, letting it rest on her face. Without any makeup, she looked almost normal. But there would always be something otherworldly about the Black Widow. Something that made the Avengers keep their distance and the government track her every move.

She opened the shower door and backed out of it without looking away from him. If it were any other woman he’d find the attention flattering. With her he just found it to be flat out creepy.

Steve gaped at him and then her. “Uh?”

The Widow smiled at him. “Thanks for the show, James.”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek and drew blood. Rumlow was watching them from his locker, a deep crease in between his eyebrows and a considering look as he observed Romanoff. He caught Bucky’s eyes and almost subconsciously, his gaze dropped lower. Bucky grinned at him, blood pooling in the back of his mouth. When he turned back, Steve had clocked the interaction, eyes widening.

“Apparently I’m giving everyone a show,” Bucky responded. His cheeks were heating up the longer Steve stood there. “Didn’t your Ma teach you better manners, Steven Grant?”

Steve stammered and then practically tripped over himself to close the shower door. Once he was obscured, he dropped his head against the tile.

“Fuck,” he mouthed.

Damn the Widows.

***

Rumlow was waiting for him around the corner. He had his back against the wall and his feet crossed at the ankles, sipping at a coffee. He had a dark red pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, but Bucky could feel his watchful eyes from underneath them. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bucky adapted a casual swagger to his walk, drawing eyes from bystanders. A few snapped pictures. Rumlow frowned.

Rounding the corner past him, Bucky snagged him by the shirt and practically tossed him into the alley. Rumlow slammed into the brick wall and had his gun pulled on him before Bucky could even hold his hands up.

“You dropped your coffee,” Bucky told him, because he was an asshole. He tipped his head at the cup steadily leaking liquid onto the ground. “Stray cats are probably gonna drink that.”

“Drop the act,” Rumlow snapped.

Bucky turned his arm so the sun hit it just right and then he angled it so it shone into Brock’s eyes. “I think you’d rather take your chances with Bucky Barnes than the Winter Soldier, Brock.”

Brock audibly ground his teeth together. His finger was twitching against the trigger. “What’s your goal here? What are you playing at?”

“What’s my goal?” Bucky snorted. He knew a confrontation was coming. It had been two months since Rumlow had allowed them to be alone together. Waiting for him after his trip to the grocery store certainly wasn’t an accident. Besides, Bucky had noticed the tail as soon as he’d left the compound. “What is this? Some sort of shitty therapy?”

“You think this is funny?” Brock snarled. Bucky wondered if this was a weird role reversal where he got to kick someone’s ass in an alley and Steve got to sit at home and worry. “I could blow your fucking brains out.”

Bucky pulled out his phone and took a picture of the pigeon on the roof and sent it to Sam. He added a text at the bottom of the message; are you related to this one?

Brock’s face was flushed.

“Sure you could,” he allowed. “Except for the fact that all those people just took pictures of me and you conveniently happened to be in the background. But, if you wanna blow your cover be my fucking guest. Will save me less time. Plus, I won’t get the eyebrows of disappointment from Rogers when I toss you off a building if he knows you’re HYDRA.”

Rumlow’s nostrils flared. “So, what? You’re toying with us? Making us guess on your next move?” He laughed. It sounded more like braying. “You’ve been in the public eye for what? Two and a half months? So far you haven’t done jackshit except make empty threats and piss off Romanoff.”

Bucky picked lint off his jacket. “You guys getting antsy? Don’t tell me that HYDRA’s finally worried about its pet being loose. You would’ve thought they’d be more concerned after the seventeenth base I blew up.”

“That wasn’t you,” Rumlow denied. “Everybody knows that was Steve Rogers.”

He cocked his head, smiling at Rumlow like he was a particularly slow child. “Sure it was. I mean, I get it. The guys got a grudge. After all, you killed his best friend. Blew him off the side of a train. Plus, you tried to murder him in cold blood a few years ago. There’s no one I know that wants HYDRA dead more than him.”

Brock’s spine straightened. He suddenly seemed to remember who he was dealing with. “Zola said you didn’t have the brain capacity for that.”

The name sent a zing through him. He rotated the plates in his shoulder. “For what, exactly? To escape? Or to go on a revenge tour around the world?” He took a step closer to Brock, enjoying when the other man recoiled and knocked his head against the wall. “You made damn sure I know how to put people down and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to kill every single one of you motherfuckers that did this to me. And then I’m going to make sure that no one even remembers the name HYDRA.”

“So that’s your plan?” Rumlow sneered. “What’s with all the glitz and glamor? Miss being Cap’s bitch?”

He blinked at him, shocked. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

Rumlow laughed. “Oh, Jesus. You can’t tell me that you don’t notice him panting after you? It really is pathetic. Someone that looks like him, he could have anyone he wants and he’s got a hard on for his brain dead best friend. Maybe I can give him the manual see if he’d been into ordering you to drop to your knees and—“

Bucky cracked him across the jaw.

There was an uncomfortable warmth in his chest. He touched his face with his right hand and felt the heat radiating off of it. Was he embarrassed?

“Leave Steve out of this,” Bucky said. “You’ve got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about.”

Brock picked himself up off the floor. Thankfully for him, Bucky had the foresight to hit him with his flesh and blood hand. The metal one would’ve been too obvious. Still, he was going to have a nice shiner for a week or so.

Rubbing at his jaw, Rumlow spat a glob of blood out. It landed on Bucky’s boot.

He had a crazed gleam in his eyes. “So that’s what it takes, huh? You know, everyone told me how hard it was to break you. How strong willed James Barnes was before they shattered him into pieces. I gotta admit, I was excited to meet you. Thought I’d finally get to see what all the fuss was about. And you know what? I was disappointed. I kept thinking, this guy? This pussy was the one who took twenty years to crack? Someone shouted at you and you rolled over. You were like a beat dog. I wanted to put you out of your misery, Barnes. Truly I did.” He licked his split lip. “But here he is. You’ve finally got some fire in your eyes. This whole attitude you have, where you walk around and look at me like I’m below you? That shits infuriating man. But this? Looking at me like you’re imagining putting a knife through my trachea? That’s got me going, man. I guess I’ve gotta type. The ones who just give up? They’re no fun to break. But the ones who fight for it? Shit, I live for that.”

Bucky inhaled sharply. He knew that Rumlow was attracted to him. Back in the day he couldn’t go more than a block without someone hitting on him. He thought it was purely physical. Not whatever this twisted fantasy was. This wasn’t like Hydra, where they wanted to control him physically. This was deeper. This was insanity.

Rattled, Bucky wiped his split knuckles on his pant leg and took a slight step away. “Color me surprised, all Nazi’s really are just fucked in the head. You should see a therapist, I hear SHIELD’s got great ones. Maybe they can give you a normal personality.”

Rumlow smiled at him. “Sure, I’ll ask Rogers for a recommendation, seeing as how he’s gone through so many. He’s been getting better though, lately. Probably thanks to you crawling your way up outta that grave. I wonder how he’ll take it when he learns who you really are. If he’ll cry when he realizes that his best guy is nothing more than a fraud.”

His face went blank.

“Is that a threat?”

Brock shrugged. “I’m getting bored of this cat and mouse game you’ve got going on. Thought I’d put the ball in your court.” He walked past Bucky and headed for the street. “What’s it they say in chess? Your move?”

He disappeared around the building, a skip in his steps.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing. It looks like hanging around Steve had done exactly what he wanted; taken the attention off of Captain America. Instead, it had just thrown the Winter Soldier back into the spotlight. Who’s to say that this wasn’t Hydra’s plan all along? Maybe he never really escaped. What if they’d been watching him all this time, just waiting to strike.

And he played right into it.

When he opened his eyes he caught sight of the white paper on the ground. Frowning, he crouched down to check it over when he read the names on the card and froze.

It was a list of names and addresses.

And every single person on the list was related to Bucky.

***

The next morning Bucky got up at four o’clock to pummel a few punching bags. He’d been at it for a few hours when Romanoff and Barton strolled in, conversation halting when they saw him. He ignored it, smashing his left hand harder into the leather. Sweat was dripping down his face and the back of his shirt was completely soaked through, sticking to his skin. Something stopped him from taking it off though. Thinking of this certain something made anger rush through him all over again and this time he hit the bag so hard it flew off the hinges and crashed into a wall.

“You doing okay, buddy?” Clint asked, hovering.

“Peachy,” Bucky rasped.

“Sure about that?” Romanoff questioned. He turned to look at her. She didn’t even acknowledge him, just continued wrapping her knuckles with tape. Her lips pursed when she eyed the punching bag. “I think I’m getting some serious supersoldier dejavu.”

His shoulders bunched. “Why do you care?”

Black Widow turned her back on him, a visible dismissal. “I want to learn all your secrets.”

“Get in the fucking line,” Bucky snarled.

Clint’s eyebrows reached his hairline. Choosing to disengage, Bucky walked to the other side of Stark’s gym and started doing pull-ups. He wasn’t even counting out a set, just thought he’d do them until his arms gave out or someone bodily ripped him away. Unfortunately that line of thinking had the Widow stepping in front of the bar, close enough that their chests brushed on his way down. Bucky wanted to pull his fucking hair out.

“What?” He barked.

She tapped his bicep. “Spar with me.”

He laughed. “Yeah, no.”

Romanoff folded her arms. There was a considering light in her eyes. Whatever this was, pity or interest or speculation, he wanted nothing to do with it. He gave her his best unimpressed look.

“It could be good for you,” she suggested.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. Not for the first time he wished he would’ve taken Steve up on his offer to buy him an apartment in Brooklyn. But then he would’ve had to do perimeter checks and set a timer to wake him up every two hours and he would’ve been too tired to keep up appearances.

She pushed him backwards, a love tap. “Come on.”

He barely moved an inch, regardless it still caught him off guard. He gaped down at the spot on his sternum where she had planted her palm and forcibly moved him. Bucky felt another tide of emotion swell.

“I said no.”

“Tasha–” Clint interrupted.

“Why?” She purred. “Too scared?”

Bucky plucked at his wet shirt. “I don’t hit women, Romanoff. So why don’t you pick on some other poor soul and leave me the hell alone.”

She shrugged. “Fine.”

His body was moving before he even registered that she was swinging at him. He heard Clint’s indignant shout but it was like static noise in his brain. She kicked out at him and he dodged, walking backwards. She threw another punch at him and he caught her fist in his left hand and twisted it backwards towards her chest.

Romanoff grunted and he released her hand, only to have her come back at him twice as hard. She threw one fist towards his jaw and managed to hit him in the solar plexus with the other. He made an involuntary noise of pain and kicked her so hard she rolled across the gym.

Popping back up, she took off running at him and then leaped, wrapping her legs around his neck. Frustrated and annoyed, Bucky grabbed her ankle and tossed her over his head. She slammed to the ground again and took his legs out from underneath him with a well placed swipe. He landed hard, spine cracking.

“Hey!” Clint whistled. “Knock it off!”

She pulled one of his legs towards her and Bucky let his body follow the motion. Just as she was about to straddle him, he went boneless and caught her around the waist, flipping them over and taking her place. His knees tucked in along her ribs and he tried to pin her wrists down to get her to stop. Except she was too fast for him and he was too focused on not hurting her. Romanoff bucked up and used her thighs to propel him off of her.

Once again, his back hit the mat with a thud.

She lunged at him and he sprung up, blocking her hits left and right. She aimed a swing at his nose and he threw up his metal arm. Her fist cracked across it and she swore viciously, shaking her hand out. Blood splattered on his cheekbone and he opened his mouth to apologize when she lashed out and clocked him in the chin, forcing his head up. His nose began to gush blood almost instantaneously, dripping down his face in two streams. Some of it leaked into his mouth and he choked.

Without giving him time to recuperate, Romanoff threw herself at him again. Already off balance, Romanoff landed another hit to his face and he heard his zygomatic bones explode. Suddenly the world went red.

Unthinkingly, Bucky grabbed a fistful of her hair and bent her backwards, forcing her back to arch. Then he brought his knee up underneath her spine and brought her down over it. She dropped like a ragdoll, face pale and twisted. A second later she was back up, stabbing his knee with a knife and making him crumple. On top of him, she swiped at his face and when she got near his broken cheekbone, he took the feeble bones of her wrist in his hand and snapped them.

She cried out and brought the dagger down into his shoulder. Scrambling away, the Widow dropped to her knees, chest heaving. Heart thudding in his ribcage, he grabbed the knife by the hilt and yanked it out of his body. Fresh blood trickled down his shirt and he ripped it off. His entire face felt like it was on fire and when he stood, his knee buckled.

Despite the pain she had to be feeling, Romanoff dipped into a low crouch. She hurled another knife at him and he snatched it out of thin air and chucked it back at her. Cartwheeling away, Romanoff missed the dagger by a centimeter. He tossed the bloodied one her way and she ducked and it stuck itself into the wall beside Clint’s head. His eyes were wide, hands outstretched like he wasn’t sure if he should attempt to intervene or wait them out.

Relentless, the Black Widow came at him again on the offense. They went down to the floor in a pile of writhing bodies. She wrapped her hands around his throat, squeezing and he headbutted her, causing her to release him. He hit her in the stomach and not giving her any time to recover, he slammed her head into his arm. Too soon, she latched onto his metal arm and tased him with her Widow Bites. All thought ceased to exist in his brain.

Roaring, he chucked her through the glass logo in the back of the gym. He shook his head out and by the time he got rid of the ringing in his ears she was back and he narrowly missed being stepped on. Clint ducked in between them and Romanoff brought her knee up into his nose, he crippled and she stepped over him. The Soldier rose up and blocked her next hits, head buzzing with pain and ohgodnotagain–stevepleasewhereareyou–stopstopstop.

With a furious look on her face, the Widow brought out a shard of glass and tried to dig it into his eye. A blonde blur grabbed her by the wrist, pleading for something, and she tossed the glass into his head. He went down and didn’t get back up.

She slammed his head into the ground again and again and again and finally the Soldier had enough and grabbed her broken wrist and shattered all the bones in her hand, feeling her bones grind against each other. She tased him to get him to let go and he screamed, crawling away from her and pressing his forehead against the cool floor.

All the Soldier knew was pain.

The electricity was everywhere. In his skin, in his bones, in his bloodstream. It was going to be so much worse this time. They were going to make him forget he was a person. They were going to take away Steve.

He screamed and screamed and screamed.

Finally the noise in his head lessened and he struggled to the surface. That’s when he heard the voices. They were all talking over each other, rushed and panicked. He winced, tears streaming down his face. He had upset his handlers again. He was going back in the chair.

The next time he came to someone was running their hands through his hair and speaking to him in low tones. He opened his eyes and felt all the blood in his body rush to his face. Groaning, Bucky flopped over onto his back and blinked up at the brightest baby blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Steve?” He slurred.

All the voices went silent.

Faces formed behind Steve’s shoulders and he flinched hard when he saw the redhead. Steve caught him by the waist and reigned him back in, putting his head in his lap. He thumbed at the corner of his eye, face gaunt and haunted.

“What happened to you?” Bucky asked.

Steve exhaled harshly. “How much do you remember?”

Bucky shot straight up, ignoring everyone’s gasps. He brought his hand to his head feeling sick when he saw the blood smeared across the metal. Oh God, he thought desperately. His fingers hooked into the collar of Steve’s shirt without his conscious thought. He brought their faces close together. “What did I do? What did I do? I hurt someone, didn’t I? Jesus, God, no. What did I do, Stevie? What did I forget this time–” he broke off hyperventilating.

“Bruce,” Sam was saying. “I think we’re going to need that sedative.”

A pause.

“No, not for Nat. For Bucky.”

***

Bucky was staring at the ceiling in Steve’s bedroom. After they’d jabbed him with the needle and injected him with the sedative they had brought him back here and tucked him up in the covers like a little kid.

His body was already feeling better. Though it was a cold comfort when he knew that it would take the Widow a lot longer to get over what he had done to her. Soon all evidence of their fight would be wiped clean off of his body and she would still have the remnants on her skin.

Just like the scar on her stomach. Right by her hip.

What the fuck happened.

He heard a door open and close and then Steve was walking into the room. He set down a glass of water on the nightstand and startled when he saw that Bucky was awake and watching him. The worry lines on his face sharpened.

“Are you–”

“Where’s Natasha?”

Steve’s mouth fell open. He eyed him for a long moment and then smoothed hair back from his face, fingers tracing over the tension in Bucky’s eyebrows. God his head felt like someone had cracked it open and let all the matter fall out like an egg being used for breakfast. Emptying out all the yolk and leaving an empty shell. That was Bucky.

“She’s okay,” Steve finally said. “She’s got a broken hand and a few broken ribs.”

Bucky knew he did more than that. “And some bruising and tenderness around her spine. And they probably had to set her nose back, right?”

Steve floundered. “Buck–”

He sat up and put his face in his hands.

He thought he’d be safe here.

“She’ll survive.”

Bucky laughed humorlessly. It sounded like it was torn out of his vocal chords. “Sure she will. She’s the Black fucking Widow. This will be like nothing.”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder and Bucky flinched and then prayed that Steve didn’t feel it.

“What happened?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. She wanted to spar and I kept saying no. I was so angry this morning, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. And… she just kept coming at me. It was different at first. Normal. Good. Then it didn’t feel like sparring. It felt like she was trying to kill me. I just… completely lost it.”

“She said the same thing,” Steve reported. His eyes were big and blue and sad. “She said she knew she was pushing you too hard but after a while she couldn’t shut it off. She said it was like all her instincts took over and she thought you were an enemy.”

I am, Bucky thought.

He thought back to a flash of blonde hair trying to get in between them.

“And Clint?”

“Natasha, she, uh,” Steve hesitated. “He tried to stop you guys and she didn’t like it. He’ll be alright. He’ll probably milk it for all it’s worth, make you guys get him pizza and rub his feet, but he doesn’t hold any grudges.”

“She put a glass shard in his head.”

Steve grimaced. “He’ll have the stitches in for a week or so, depending on how fast he heals.”

Bucky felt hollowed out. Like someone had scooped all the important bits out and left him with the bitter aftertaste of blood on his tongue and guilt so strong that it was caving out his chest cavity for more room.

His lungs couldn’t inflate all the way.

“Buck,” Steve hedged. “The stuff you said after–”

He didn’t even want to know. “Shut the fuck up, Steve.”

“I can’t just drop this, Bucky. Not this time.”

“I was out of my mind, okay. I doubt I even knew what–”

Steve shook his head. “Can you at least look me in the eyes if you’re going to lie to me again.”

Bucky froze. But he did as Steve asked. “Again?”

“You think I didn’t notice?” said Steve. He was wringing his hands in his lap. Bucky wanted to reach out and take them, smooth out the tendons and rub warmth into his cold fingers. The reminder of the blood on his metal arm prevented him from touching him. “You’ve been off ever since we brought you back. At first I thought it was just an adjustment period. A coping mechanism. But I can’t let this go on any longer, Bucky. You’re hurting yourself. You’re… hurting other people. You need to talk to someone about this.”

“About what?” Bucky said flatly. “About how I’ve been cheerful and happy and excited for the future and have had no other problems. I’m sorry you had a rough time getting acclimated to this life, Steve. But I’m not you.”

“That’s not normal, Buck!” Steve shouted, slamming his hands down on the nightstand. The glass of water rattled near the edge, as if it was thinking about taking a swan dive. “You’re acting like everything is perfect and it’s not. Obviously it’s not. You and Natasha just beat the shit out of each other and you don’t even know why!”

Bucky felt himself getting defensive. “Well, excuse the fuck outta me. What the hell do you even want from me? First it’s an issue that I’m not having enough mental breakdowns. Fine, I’ve had one. Check it off on the list. Sing hallelujah. Praise the Lord. Now it’s an issue that I’m angry and experiencing emotions! What version do you want me to be?”

“The real one!” Steve shot back. “I want the real Bucky back! Because I don’t know who the hell this person is. The real Bucky would’ve told me what he was feeling. He would’ve broken out of SHIELD and came to find me as soon as he got back! He never would’ve done half the shit you’ve been doing.”

All the color drained from Bucky’s face.

He pressed a hand against his sternum, trying to fight back the nausea.

“What happened to you?” Steve whispered. “All the secrets and the flirty persona, that’s not you. Never has been. Please just let me help you. We can get you a therapist or you can talk to Sam. Anything.”

“Why?” Bucky snarled bitterly. “Has a therapist ever helped you?”

Steve frowned at him. “Who told you that?”

Bucky laughed. “Oh? I thought you didn’t like secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, exhausted. “You’re impossible. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”

Bucky didn’t say a word.

Tears sprang to Steve’s eyes. He wiped at them uselessly but they kept pouring out. “You’re not even going to say anything?”

He flopped back onto the bed. Bucky just wanted to curl up and sleep forever. Turning his back to Steve, he bit his lip bloody to hold back the flood of tears that was awaiting. “Why does it matter? I’m not even the real Bucky.”

Steve slammed the door so hard that the picture frames on his nightstand rattled and the glass of water tipped over and broke.

***

It was midnight when Bucky finally creeped out of Steve’s bedroom. There was no sign of Steve and all the lights in the apartment were shut off. Moving soundlessly through the dark Bucky made his way into the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. His feet hit the chilly tile floor and he paused halfway through opening the fridge, getting the uncanny feeling that somebody was watching him. Making his movements casual, he continued pulling out a bottle of water and took his time scanning the contents inside it, not that there was much other than water, some expired orange juice and a yellow apple. Slowly, he reached inside his front pocket to pull out a small knife. He cursed himself internally for leaving his guns in his own apartment.

A chair creaked. Behind him and slightly to the right, nearest to the exit.

If it was an intruder they would’ve had to disable JARVIS, who had told him the time five minutes before he drug himself out of bed. And if it was an Avenger there was only one person who could get the jump on him like that.

“Romanoff,” he greeted without turning around.

A knowing voice. “Barnes.”

He took a swig of his water to clear his suddenly dry throat and spun around, leaning back against the dusty countertop. She was mostly obscured in darkness, dressed in all black and watching him guardedly. A slight sliver of moonlight filtered in through the shutters and it left a stripe across her forehead, right over her emerald eyes.

She was sitting stiffly, back not quite touching the back of the chair. She had her hands splayed out on the table, one was hidden in a cast. There was bruising around her throat, fingerprints red against the pale skin. He was sure there was more. Bucky was also sure that if she didn’t want him to see her weakness then she would’ve covered them up.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” He asked.

Romanoff tipped her head towards the sky. “I asked JARVIS to make sure everyone thinks I’m in bed resting and that I’m not to be disturbed.”

He shifted, knife dangling in loose fingers. “No offense, but I’m not interested in a repeat of this morning. I might not look like shit but I certainly feel that way.”

No smile. No reaction. Nothing.

“You fight well with the metal arm,” the Widow commented. Her pinky was tapping against the table. “It’s impressive for somebody that’s never had to use it like that before.”

Damn it.

Bucky didn’t dignify that with an answer. Just squinted at her from across the kitchen. He was dressed in baggy clothes and only had a few knives on him. He had cataloged the utensils in Steve’s kitchen a few weeks ago and knew that he only had small metal forks and knives in the drawer behind Bucky’s left hip. No butcher knives. No spoons. No spatulas. He figured if she tried something that he would have the advantage of being familiar with the space. Although he couldn’t quite make out what she had on her. Presumably the Widow Bites, seeing how they worked on him last time. He set his water on the stove and casually turned on the heat all the way up. Bucky was mostly resistant to being burned and his metal arm was a great conductor. He hoped he didn’t have to use it.

“What are you here for?”

She eyed him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He tilted his chin up slightly. “I’m here for Steve. I’ve got no living family and nowhere else to go. Unless you think SHIELD will be so kind as to let a one hundred year old war hero walk into the streets and never be seen again.”

Black Widow braced one her feet against the floor. She was wearing pink socks, they reminded him of her ballerina shoes. He moved his gaze back to her face and didn’t let anything show.

“That’s what Bucky Barnes is doing,” she responded coolly. “I want to know what the Winter Soldier plans on doing here.”

A muscle in his jaw worked.

She must’ve figured it out sometime during the fight.

“I had my suspicions,” Romanoff informed him. She had a raspy voice when she wasn’t trying to seduce or murder anybody. It made him think of the time she had been strangled by the other Widows during the night and she couldn’t speak without wincing for days. “You almost had me fooled for a while there. Acting all flirty and brave, getting Rogers to open up. You were just like the man Cap had told us stories about. But there was something off about you.”

He stared back at her, impassive.

She slid Yelena’s knife across the table. It came to a stop near the edge, sharp point dangling towards the ground. There was a bloody handprint on it.

“I watched videos of you,” Black Widow reported. “Studied the way you walked, the way you talked, how you smiled. How you interacted with Steve. Most of it was still spot on, I assume you picked apart the footage of Bucky Barnes as well. Relearned how to act just like him. But your movement was off when you let your guard down. You were stiff, not as fluid. And you didn’t make as much noise as you used to. Even in clunky combat boots you barely made a sound. Unless you wanted us to know you were coming and then your footfalls were uneven. Plus, you adjusted to the weight of the new arm surprisingly fast. No pain. No difference in gait. No clumsiness. In fact, you were right at home with that metal limb.”

Bucky held himself back from lunging for Yelena’s knife.

“So I changed,” he offered calmly. “So did Steve.”

She continued. “You acted weird with me from the moment we met. Steve assured me that the flirting was just what you were used to, but you didn’t do that with Hill or Agent Carter. Then there’s the fact that you took to the future like a duck to water. A week after you’d been back and you were ready to go out and tell the world. Unbothered by the cars and the phones and the people. Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but when you get angry or emotional, you drop the Brooklyn accent and go blank. Just food for thought on that one.”

He didn’t know he did that, actually. That was a hit to the ego.

“So let’s get this straight,” Bucky said. “I didn’t act like the man in the videos going through a war, so obviously I must be a mythical Hydra assassin. That checks out.”

She cocked her head at him, blinking slowly, catlike. It reminded him of the sharp, assessing way his handlers used to look at him. Like they were reminding him who was on the top of the food chain.

“I didn’t really put two and two together until this week,” Romanoff remarked. “It took me and Rogers an hour to get through all those levels of soldiers and you walk right in and head straight for the kill. You were down there for, I’m guessing probably around fifteen minutes, and by the time I got there all the agents were dead and the girls were clamoring all over you. And then there was the fact that somebody else’s knife was stuck in a warm body and that your com had been mute for over ten minutes at a time.” She put her chin in her good hand. “But you really screwed yourself over this morning. I’ve fought supersoldiers before and even Steve can’t toss me around like that. Plus, when I stabbed you, both times, you barely even reacted. Just kept coming at me. Like I was a mission you needed to complete. You didn’t fight like the Bucky Barnes Steve remembers. You fought like a Widow. Like the Winter Soldier.”

He put his hands back on the stove, metal one heating up. “So what’s the game plan then? I don’t think Stevie would like it very much if we trashed his place and he came back to his friend bleeding out on the floor.”

Her eyebrows raised minutely. “So it’s true.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky professed. “You’ve got your mind all made up.”

She smoothed her tongue over her split lips. “JARVIS turn all the video and audio recording off on Captain Rogers floor. If anybody asks, inform them that Sergeant Barnes requested some privacy and anyone who needs him can contact his phone.”

“Deactivating video and audio footage now,” JARVIS answered. “And if Mister Stark asks for the override code, what shall I tell him then?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Tell him that Barnes has overridden his access using code word AVHULKBLCKOUT12.”

“As you wish, Agent Romanoff.”

The red light blinking in the corner of the ceiling shut off.

He flexed his hand. “You wanna try and beat without an audience this time?”

The Widow stood up. “I want you to admit it. I thought the eye in the sky recording everything might scare you off from a confession.”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll decide if I need to eliminate the threat or not,” Natalia purred. “Cap’s sappy feelings about you damned.”

Bucky rested his head back against the microwave, tired. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

He pulled out a piece of paper and tossed it at her. She caught it midair, eyes scanning the names and addresses warily. “That’s the information Hydra has on all my living relatives. You decide I need to be taken out, then you protect them with your life and tell Rogers nothing.”

Romanoff’s eyes were wide.

“Do we have an agreement?”

She nodded. “You have my word, Barnes. I won’t let innocent people suffer at the hands of Hydra.”

He closed his eyes. “It’s true. I’m the Winter Soldier.”

The Widow let out a breath that she probably didn’t mean for him to hear. He cracked his bruised eyes open and watched her face pale rapidly. He wondered if she had been hoping for another answer. If she thought she was paranoid and imagining signs that weren’t there. If she, like everybody else, had faith in the man Bucky Barnes used to be.

“How?”

He shrugged. “The story I gave you guys wasn’t all a lie. I did fall off a train that day in the Alps. Thanks to the serum I woke up in a ravine with my arm feet away from me, in an agonizing amount of pain. A few days later a few German soldiers came by and hauled me off. I thought they were going to kill me and be done with it. If I had known who they were, I would’ve taken one of their guns and put a bullet in my mouth myself.”

Romanoff rubbed a hand over her jaw. “The Winter Soldier wasn’t active in the forties or fifties.”

“No,” Bucky agreed. “Zola gave me the option to cooperate with them. To do their bidding of my own free will. Pain free, he promised. I told him he could go fuck himself. I guess he didn’t like that answer.”

“When did you get out?” She asked. “The Soldier I knew was practically mindless. Had no memories. No clue of who he really was. They never would’ve let you out from under lock and key.”

Not like the girls, Bucky thought.

He was too unpredictable for that.

“Not sure,” he said honestly. “For a while they brought me out while Pierce was overseeing the success of Project Insight. Had me blow up Fury’s car, shoot you on the freeway. They never let me near Steve. If Captain America was on the scene I would be removed from it.”

She smoothed her finger over a name on the paper. “Why? If they had you brainwashed, it shouldn't matter who you came across. It’s not like you’d seen Steve for over seventy years.”

He shrugged. “I got violent when he was involved. For the first few years I’d escape every time on his birthday, end up wandering around the city, looking for something. One of the scientists mocked me about him once, now I know that was probably right after he’d been found in the ice. I snapped, broke his neck, and killed seven agents. After that no one mentioned Steve Rogers around me.”

She pursed her lips. “Alexander Pierce looked a lot like Cap.”

Bucky smiled. “I didn’t spend much time in the chair when he was my handler. Apparently if you look like Steve Rogers, my brain thinks you’re trustworthy and will go wherever you point me.”

Romanoff cursed.

His head was starting to throb again.

“I released your files to the public back in 2014,” she muttered. “They never listed a name. Never showed a face. It was like you didn’t even exist before they got you.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. Stomach churning. “I didn’t. Still don’t.”

She sat down on the table, legs swinging in the air. The tension in her shoulders was almost gone now. She was looking at him like he was a ghost.

“You can do whatever you want with me,” Bucky whispered. His eyes were hard as steel when he made eye contact with her. “But let me take out Hydra first. Let me right my wrongs.”

Natalia shook her head. She brought a hand up to her mouth. “Does Steve know?”

He remembered Brock taunting him in the alley. Asking him if Cap knew about his brain dead best friend. Bucky clenched his hands into fists. Steve was never going to know.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Bucky started. “After I went missing in 2015, Hydra tore through the continents searching for me. But they never did. It was only recently that more heads started growing back in SHIELD, in the CIA, in every government agency you can imagine. It got my attention. That’s when I learned that they were trying to recreate another Winter Soldier. But none of the serum was effective. There’s only two supersoldiers in history as far as I know. And with one done for the count they started looking at the other.”

Romanoff’s eyes darkened. “They wanted Steve. That’s why you’re here. After all these years of running and hiding, you came back for him. To protect him.”

It wasn’t as noble as she made it sound.

“Mission accomplished,” Bucky said with some sad jazz hands. “It’s safe to say that Hydra has been fully distracted from their delusions of grandeur. Why go through the trouble of capturing and brainwashing Steve when you already have a tried and true product walking around.”

“You said that Hydra is everywhere,” Romanoff stated. “Even in SHIELD.”

“I’ve got a list of names in a flash drive if you’re interested.”

She bit down on the side of her cheek. The Black Widow persona was slowly creeping back in to replace Natasha Romanoff. She tucked her hair behind her ears and hopped off the table, crossing over towards him. When they were in reaching distance, she stuck out her hand.

“Well,” Natasha said. “It’s nice to meet you James.”

He shook her hand, feeling their callouses scrape together.

“What do you say?” She grinned. It wasn’t a nice one. “I think we cut off all the heads for good.”

He smiled back. It felt more genuine than any other ones he’d given people for months. Maybe even years. Here was somebody who believed him. Who could help him.

“Sounds like my kind of party.”

***

“Would either of you two like to explain the complete blackout in Cap’s apartment last night?” Stark asked as he strolled into the communal kitchen. His hands were covered in oil.

Steve, who had been avoiding Bucky all morning, lifted his head curiously. “Blackout?”

Bucky bit his lip and smiled at Tony. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Stark folded his arms, smearing oil all over his white shirt. He looked supremely unimpressed. “Really? So you didn’t ask JARVIS to initiate an override code and Romanoff didn’t disappear from her room for three hours?”

Sam glared at Natasha. “You said you were resting.”

Romanoff, who was currently eating cereal one handed, gave him a sheepish look. “I was resting. Trust me, I slept very, very well last night.”

“In whose bed?” Stark demanded.

Natasha’s eyes flicked towards Bucky. Everyone’s heads swiveled towards him. He glanced at his coffee mug and debated the merits of drowning himself in it.

Steve scowled. “Buck.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky drawled. “Are we speaking to each other now?”

“Oof,” Clint said, dropping into the chair next to Bucky. He smelled like antiseptic. There were dark stitches smack dab in the middle of his forehead, livid and angry. “Lovers quarrel.”

Sam held up a hand. “You two slept together? Was that what the fight was for? Some weird ass white people courting ritual? You couldn’t have gotten together like normal people?”

“Hate sex is more fun,” Natasha said around a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

Bucky sighed. “Where’s Banner?”

“Why?” Tony blurted. “Going to sleep with him too?”

Clint stole a forkful of eggs off Bucky’s plate. Without looking away from Stark, he scooped the eggs onto Clint’s plate. Sam gave him a pitying look, as if he was saying, I too am the only sane person around here.

“Bucky’s not like that,” Steve said. His knuckles were white around his knife. When he realized he had everyone’s attention, he squared his shoulders. “He wouldn’t do that with men.”

“Um,” Clint squeaked.

Bucky threw down the gauntlet. “Who says I wouldn’t?”

“Um,” Clint repeated.

Stark’s eyes were wide.

Steve turned his head to glare at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He was actually getting offended here. “And what if I did?”

“Since when?” Steve demanded. He dropped his cutlery and it clattered against the table. Bucky couldn’t tell where the outburst was coming from. “You’ve never looked at men like that in your entire life, Buck. Not once. I would know.”

He would know?

Yeah, that’s fucking likely.

“You would know?” Bucky echoed. His voice was dull. “Yeah, I don’t think so, pal.”

Steve folded his arms. Bucky’s eyes dropped to the muscles in his biceps. He was pretty sure that Natasha clocked the appreciation. This was the longest period of time Steve had looked at him since yesterday night.

Sam intercepted. “Well, regardless of who is and who isn’t. It’s perfectly alright to like any gender these days. There’s a lot of people–”

Steve shook his head. “You aren’t that way, Bucky. Because if you are then I don’t know you.”

Bucky felt the hurt rising in his chest. He knew everyone was looking at him. Waiting for his response. To see if he was going to correct Steve or back down. He clenched his teeth.

“Would it really be so terrible if I was?” He whispered.

Steve got up and left.

After a few moments of deafening silence, Stark clapped his hands awkwardly. “Well, I’m glad to have you here, Barnes. Breakfast and a show, damn.”

Clint patted his shoulder. “At least he didn’t throw glass at your head.”

Natasha’s eyes went flinty. “Clint.”

The two of them fell into a squabbling match and Bucky sat there at the table feeling lost and adrift, wondering what the hell just happened. Was Steve really that disgusted by the thought of Bucky liking men? He thought… Well, it’s not like it mattered.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t even the Real Bucky.

***

Bucky woke up to an alarm going off and Avengers Tower cast in total darkness. Jolting up and off his couch, Bucky grabbed his gun that was hidden underneath the cushion and loaded the chamber in one smooth motion. His watch told him that it was six o’clock in the evening. He thought about asking for JARVIS but figured that if the power was out in the entire building then there would be no use.

He pressed on his com.

Clint answered immediately. “Barnes?”

Thank God.

“Barton,” he returned. “What’s going on?”

Clint was breathing heavily on the other line. “I don’t know. I can’t get a hold of anybody else besides you and Stark. He said he’s down in the power room trying to figure out what caused the blackout but all the systems are fried. It’s like Ultron all over again.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “It’s Hydra.”

“What?”

He was so stupid. Rumlow had practically flashed neon signs at him. What was it he’d said? Your move? And Bucky hadn’t done anything. Instead he’d spent the day fighting with the Avengers and feeling sorry for himself. He should’ve told Natasha up front. Or went over the security system with Stark.

“Barton,” Bucky said carefully. “Has anyone else besides us been in the Tower today?”

“Well yeah,” Clint answered. His voice was high and panicky. “Just the Strike team.”

He headed for the stairs. Out in the hallway the alarm was even louder, lights flashing bright red like a strobe effect at a concert. His enhanced ears were ringing.

“Who were they with?”

Please don’t say Steve. Please don’t say Steve. Please don’t say Steve.

Clint paused. “I don’t–I’m not sure. They came over earlier this evening after transporting the girls back to their families. I think I saw Rumlow talking to Cap.”

Bucky kicked the door to the stairwell open and started sprinting down the stairs. He’d been wrong the whole time. Hydra hadn’t forgotten about Steve. They’d been playing chess while Bucky had been playing checkers. Foolishly, he thought he could outsmart them. But this was a group of individuals who had invaded SHIELD without Nick Fury noticing. Led by men who were ruthless in getting what they wanted.

He’d gotten soft and Hydra was going to take advantage of that.

“Barnes!” Clint shouted. “What’s going on?”

He took stairs three at a time. “Where are you right now?”

“In Natasha’s apartment,” he reported. “I–I can’t get out. They’ve got her entire floor locked up.”

“And Natasha?”

“I don’t know,” Clint breathed. “I haven’t seen her for hours.”

Bucky burst through the doorway and tore through the hallway to get to Steve’s apartment. Inside looked perfectly normal. No signs of a struggle anywhere. He scouted out the entire place, sweeping the bedroom and the bathroom. The place looked the same as it did last night. Heart in his throat, Bucky swallowed down his nerves.

“Cap’s floor is clear.”

“What did you mean when you said it was Hydra?” Clint finally asked.

Bucky wanted to keel over in the middle of the room. He’d never felt this way on a mission before. Not even back in the war. This was pure terror.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Bucky promised. When he walked out of the apartment the door banged against the wall. He knew he had to be rational about this. But it was Steve. “Where does the Strike team usually spend their time when they’re here?”

There was a sound of breaking glass over the other line.

“Clint?”

“I’m here,” Clint responded. His voice was distant, blocked by a whistling noise like wind.

He skidded to a stop. “Are you scaling down the building right now?”

Heavy breathing. “No?”

“You know what,” Bucky disregarded it. “Doesn’t matter.”

A beat and then.

“Rumlow and Steve are pretty close,” Clint told him. “They like to train with the shield.”

Bucky switched tracks and headed down the other stairwell. This time he didn’t bother taking the stairs at all, he tightened the laces on his boots and started swinging himself over the railings. The first drop jolted his body and the second snapped something in his shin. Somehow this had been much easier when he had done it as the Winter Soldier. When he finally reached the bottom, his body was covered in sweat and he had bruises forming along the backs of his legs.

“I’m going after Stark,” Clint said. “If we can get JARVIS up and running we won’t have to run around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Down on the lower level, Bucky stuck to the side of the walls and held his gun up in preparation everytime he went around a corner. He had an awful feeling that he was forgetting about something but pushed it aside. He’d been having feelings like that for the majority of his life. Going around another corner, Bucky slowed down his pace. There was glass all over the floor and a human sized shape in the cracked door. His boots crunched over the glass and he winced, hyper aware of every noise he made.

He slipped through the door and into the locker rooms. The first one was the women’s showers. There was a bench split in half down the middle and a dent in one side of the bathroom doors. He tracked the blood splatters to the other side and then they miraculously stopped. Finger firm against the trigger, he ventured out into the training room.

Bucky’s hand shot out and caught the shield without any prior thought. It made a loud clanging sound against his metal arm and five faces turned to gape at him. Relief shot through his body so fast it made him dizzy. Steve was standing in the middle of four agents, bloody and panting, but alive and mainly unharmed. He recognized Chris Petersen, two other nameless Hydra operatives and Brock Rumlow, who was leering at him like Christmas had come early.

He aimed the gun at Brock’s smug face.

In an instant all the agents had their weapons pointed at him. Steve was holding a hand against one of his ribs, face ashy. He shook his head at him, looking imploringly towards the door.

“For a second,” Rumlow began. “I honestly thought it was going to be the Black Widow.”

Bucky felt the sneer cross his face. “Let him go.”

Steve wiped sweat off his brow. “They’re Hydra, Buck. Get out of here. Go find Stark.”

Rumlow started to laugh, it was performative. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Steve and made a surprised face like, can you believe this guy? Rolling his eyes, he turned his gun back on Rogers. “I heard you went a few rounds with Romanoff. How was that? You put that bitch in her place?”

Bucky tightened his grip on the shield. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Petersen was shaking.

“You know,” Brock said conversationally, like Bucky didn’t want to decapitate him. “Your response time is getting kind of rusty. Another minute or so and we would’ve had Cap over here in a bodybag.”

Steve spit blood. “Go to hell.”

A door opened and more agents poured into the room. Bucky’s eyes skipped over all of them, counting. Suddenly there were fourteen to Bucky and Steve’s two. One of the men took note of him and pulled out a long electric baton. Three others did the same. The rest had guns trained on them. Bucky felt slightly ticked off when he noticed that most of them were aiming at Steve.

“Really?” Bucky said. “You called for backup?”

Rumlow smiled at him, indulgent. “No, this is my backup.”

Just then about thirty more agents rushed inside, surrounding them on every angle of the room. They all had black helmets over their faces and bulletproof vests on. Steve had the uniform on and his cowl, meanwhile Bucky was standing there in a regular shirt and jeans. Talk about underdressed.

He rolled his shoulders.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Rumlow advised. He wasn’t even looking at where he was gesturing with his gun. There was blood dripping down the side of his face from a blow to his eyebrow. His teeth were red when he smirked. “Buck knows which one I’d prefer.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he watched the two of them. The confidence Bucky had felt with only fourteen men had faded when he realized they’d have to go through forty four. It was going to be a bloodbath. Even if they managed to take out most of them, they’d still have to worry about being shot at from the sidelines.

“Why don’t you put down the gun and fight me like this,” Steve suggested. He raised his fists and bounced his eyebrows. “No shield. No weapons. Or are you afraid?”

Rumlow made a so-so gesture with his hand. “I would, but I’ve got a schedule. There’s someone that’s been waiting for you for a very long time.” His gaze landed on Bucky.

Clint’s voice registered in his ear. “We’ve got a problem.”

“No shit,” he said back.

Rumlow frowned. “Are you on coms with someone?”

“Stark can’t activate the suit and Banner’s stuck in the Hulk proof room.”

“And Nat?”

“She left her phone. Apparently Fury called earlier and said that the truck of girls had gone missing. I’m assuming she went out to bust some heads.”

Bucky’s metal arm whirred.

“What’s your problem?”

“Well,” Bucky said sarcastically. “While we’ve been talking I’ve been held at gunpoint. So you know, nothing to write home about or anything. Found Cap, though.”

Stark mumbled something in the background.

“Can you hold them off?”

“ETA?”

“Ten minutes?”

Bucky took the com out and snapped it in between his fingers. He took a step further into the room and everyone tensed up. “Hawkeye says hi.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed.

“So what now?” Rumlow pondered. He fished around in his pocket for something and ended up bringing out a blood red book. Bucky’s heart climbed up his throat. He waved it at him, taunting him. “You’re going to fight us? Do you think that will change when I read off these words? How ironic would that be? You’d really be a double agent–”

Yelena dropped down from the ceiling and kicked him in the face. Brock crumpled to the ground, gun firing uselessly. Immediately everyone began shooting.

“Move!” Steve hollered, tucking into a roll.

Bucky charged forward. He kicked Petersen in the chest and sent him backwards into Rumlow. Blocking bullets with the shield, he spun around and returned fire. Seven men went down. He didn’t see where the shot landed. He saw Yelena and Steve out of the corner of his eyes but didn’t stop to check on them.

One of the agents went for the fallen book and Bucky shot him in the hand. He dove for the book only to have Rumlow throw it away. It slid across the room. Bucky threw up the shield just in time to cover his face from a bullet.

“I have a feeling,” Rumlow said. “That this will be much more interesting then Rogers.”

Bucky flung the shield at him and sent him skidding backwards. Following, he grabbed one of the agents shooting at Yelena and snapped his neck. Dropping him, he held up his metal arm and kept advancing, letting bullets ping off of it.

Rumlow held up the shield and Bucky’s arm bounced off of it. He smirked at him from behind it and slammed it into Bucky’s face. Blood spurted out of his nose and Bucky let it dribble down his chin. Rumlow aimed for it again and Bucky kicked the bottom of the shield with his foot and sent it whirling through the air. Defenseless, Rumlow whipped out a knife and swiped it at him.

Bucky grit his teeth and on the next swing, he took hold of his arm and squeezed. His other arm caught the knife when it dropped just in time for Brock to punch him in the jaw.

“Your buddy’s looking over here,” Rumlow grunted. “Maybe I should give him a–”

Bucky returned the favor and swung. Blood exploded from Brock’s face and Bucky hit him again and again and again. He heard someone shout at him and he held up his metal hand, letting the shield collide into it. The thing was dripping blood. He glanced over and chucked it at Steve who caught it midflip and sent six guys flying away from him.

There was a smell of ozone in the air.

An agent pitched the electric baton at him and Bucky caught it before it could come down over his stomach. The agent forced it towards him and Bucky crushed his hand, taking the baton and blocking the other one coming towards him over his shoulder with it. The two batons sparked and he pulled away, twirling it.

The agent sized him up and went for it again. Bucky made a cocky come on signal with his hands and dodged. He slammed the baton down against the agent's helmet and shattered glass into his eyes. Then he stuck the rod down the side of his mask and electrocuted him until he smelled burning flesh and the agent’s eyes were rolling back into his head.

Turning, he caught Rumlow’s fist in his hand and kicked out his knee.

A bang went off and Bucky’s right shoulder erupted in pain. He looked over and cursed when he saw that there wasn’t an exit wound. Scanning the crowd, he caught sight of the agent and ducked to avoid being hit again. Popping back up, he hurled the baton and sent it flying straight into the guy's head.

Rumlow came at him again and Bucky jumped away, stumbling over a dead body. Brock kicked a baton up into his hand and swung it towards his face. Ticked off, Bucky grabbed the corpse off the floor and pushed the man into the baton. Blood and gore sprayed all over him. Brock had no choice but to let go and Bucky was there, stabbing him in the stomach with a knife. Gathered, it was a knife from Steve’s kitchen but it worked. Twisting it in harder, he felt warmth flow over his hand and then yanked the object back out. He saw an agent going for the damned book again and shoved Rumlow towards Steve who was coming their way.

Taking off, he slid underneath an agent and stabbed him in the groin. Getting up, he ducked and held up his arm, hiding his face behind it as bullets washed over him. He was inches from the book when he heard the first word.

Body locking up, he heard Yelena yell for him, but he couldn’t move. He could barely, fuck, he could barely even breathe. All he could think was no.

“Ржавый.”

Oh God. He looked around wildly.

“Семнадцать.”

“Bucky?”

“Рассвет.”

He needed ear plugs. He needed ear plugs. He needed ear plugs.

“Печь.”

He couldn’t even see which bastard was doing this to him, vision gone blurry with tears. Someone was shouting. There were guns being fired. Was he in the trenches or was he pulling the door off of Howard Stark’s car? Was he even real?

The rest of the trigger words were interrupted when a very pissed off Iron Man burst through the wall and sent Hydra agents running. “Hi honey, sorry I’m late.”

He could hear the sound of repulsors blasting and the shield flying through the air but he couldn’t see any of it. The trigger words had done something to him, made him immobile.

The last thing he heard was the Falcon, when did Sam get here, screaming.

***

When he woke up it was the Avengers pulling themselves out of the rubble and Steve was gone.

***

It was all his fault.