[Heavy Dirty Soul]
[Awake My Soul]
The pain in his head was crippling, blinding him. He didn't know who he was, where he was, what he was.
He had no name. Only: Soldier, the Asset, Ghost, and on and on. Names that were his, but weren't.
Light pierced through the haze that covered his eyes, and a blurry face swam in his vision.
Awakening meant one thing and he wouldn't be used, not again. He tried to lash out at the face with his arm, his strong arm, but nothing happened. He couldn't feel it.
Panic overwhelmed him. What had they done to him now? He struggled against them, fighting to break loose, even without the help of his metal arm.
"Bucky!" the voice suddenly broke through his head, worming its way into his mind. "Bucky, stop! You've got to calm down. We're here to help."
And just like that, everything fell into place. He was James Buchanan Barnes, but he preferred Bucky. He didn't know where he was, but he was safe. He knew what he was: a soldier, but also a good man, according to Steve.
His eyes snapped open and he jerked forward, only to be stopped by thick restraints that hugged his chest. He looked down, his one remaining arm was also held down, as well as his legs.
Panic surged again. Until he felt a cool hand brush his forehead, grounding him.
"What's happening?" he asked, his throat rough from screams that he didn't remember. He coughed, looking to owner of the hand.
Steve was pale, and his eyes were tight with fear, at what Bucky couldn't say. But he looked better than the last time that Bucky had seen him. Cleaner and healthier.
"We have a problem, Buck," Steve said. He leaned forward, his body conveying the urgency of his words. "They know you're here. They're coming to get you."
Bucky's chest tightened, and his lips curled into a snarl. "When?"
"Thirty minutes at best," a new voice broke into the conversation.
Bucky's eyes flickered to the new voice, annoyed that he hadn't clocked the second person in the room right away. T'Challa stood on Bucky's other side, his arms at his side. Sweat beaded on the King's forehead, hinting at the struggle of Bucky's awakening.
Bucky grimaced, wondering how difficult it had really been to wake him up this time.
Steve's fingers brushed Bucky's arm as he worked the straps that held his friend down. With deft fingers he released both the restraints at Bucky's arm and the one around his chest, before removing the ones on his legs.
"We have to go," Steve said grimly.
Bucky lurched forward, his limbs weak from being asleep in the ice for…
"How long was I out?" Bucky asked as he struggled to straighten.
Steve caught Bucky's arm, slinging it over his shoulder. He started moving them toward a gurney covered with a white cloth, presumably meant for Bucky.
"You've been asleep for over nine months, Mr. Barnes," T'Challa offered as he followed the two men.
Bucky grimaced as Steve helped him lean against the table. It was going to be harder for him to orientate himself after a long stint in the ice. Nine months wasn't as long as it could've been. Hydra had kept him under for years, but he had always had the time to recover before they sent him out. From the urgency in both Steve and T'Challa, Bucky doubted he'd be up to full strength before they had to leave.
"What's changed?" Bucky asked, waving Steve's hand away from the metal stump of his missing arm. "Why are they coming now?"
T'Challa shoulders sagged a little at the question. Bucky could see the weight of Wakanda on the man's back.
"Tony Stark."
Bucky fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "He's still coming?"
"He hasn't stopped looking for you," Steve said.
Bucky looked to his friend, reading the anger and betrayal shining in Steve's blue eyes.
"I left after you went under, planting false trails and hoping that he wouldn't put together the clues that led here. But Tony isn't stupid. It took him nine months to figure it out, but it would have taken the government much longer if he wasn't helping them."
"And now he's coming," Bucky said, straightening. "They're all coming for me."
Steve nodded grimly, reaching out to help Bucky stand. "We can't put T'Challa's people in danger; we need to leave before they come."
"I can protect my people," T'Challa interjected, coming forward with a long black case. "But I appreciate your concern."
He handed the heavy case to Steve who nodded gratefully. Bucky tracked the movement with suspicious eyes.
T'Challa paced to the edge of the room, returning with clothes for Bucky. He handed the bundle to Bucky and then motioned for Steve to follow him to the door, giving Bucky some privacy.
The two of them leaned forward, talking in low whispers.
Bucky knew there was something they weren't telling him, but he also knew that Steve wouldn't keep anything from him if it put Bucky at risk. So he dressed in the clothes he was given and waited for Steve and T'Challa to finish.
They did within minutes. Steve gestured for Bucky to follow him out of the room. He checked his watch as they crossed over the door's threshold.
"We've got about fifteen minutes before they arrive. We have to get out of here before then. T'Challa has offered us a jet and some money, but after that we're on our own."
Bucky shrugged. He'd been in worse situations than this before. Even before he had left Hydra; there had been times when missions had gone sideways and he wouldn't have much to get out of them, but he had always made it out alive. This time wouldn't be any different.
"Then I suggest we move," Bucky said, giving Steve a humorless grin.
...
Tony Stark knew, deep down in his gut, that this was the wrong play. Not only was it a bad idea to enter Wakanda demanding that the King hand over the wanted prisoners, but he also knew that there would be no coming back with Steve if he let Ross take Bucky away.
But at the same time, Tony wanted Steve to feel at least a part of the pain he felt at Steve's betrayal. That was his petty side. His other more, logical side, also clamored to be heard.
Barnes—no, the Winter Soldier, was dangerous. Barnes was just a man that was unfortunate enough to survive the fall down a mountain only to be picked up by Hydra and be brainwashed into thinking he was their Soldier. Barnes, from what Steve had told him, was a good man and an even better friend. Barnes was also the man that housed the Winter Soldier and could be activated with the correct words. So, yes, the Winter Soldier was dangerous, but so was Bucky Barnes.
Barnes needed to be put somewhere safe where the right people would take care of him, where the wrong people wouldn't be able to get their hands on him.
Those were all the arguments that the logical side of Tony told himself, but the emotional side of him also wanted to see Barnes suffer for what he did. Not just for Tony's parents, but also for all the other innocent people that were killed at Barnes' hands.
After his last meeting with Steve, Tony had taken a couple of months to recover before he began his search for the missing men. It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to finally find them in Wakanda, under the protection of King T'Challa.
That betrayal didn't sting as much as Steve's had. T'Challa had only ever been on Tony's side to avenge his father's death, not to stop Steve, not to bring Barnes in. Besides, Tony was beginning to expect everyone to betray him. Seemed like it was the name of the game these days.
"Mr. Stark, focus please," Ross' voice sounded through Tony's Iron Man helmet.
Tony rolled his eyes; the man had insisted on coming with the strike team to bring in Rodgers and Barnes, but like Tony had told him, he was an old man who wouldn't last one round with either Steve or Barnes. That meant he was forced to stay back on the jet and watch the events unfold from the cameras placed on the men. It also meant that he was in Tony's ear.
"Hmm," Tony responded.
"You know better than anyone that Rodgers is dangerous. Both he and Barnes combined is lethal. So get your damn head into the game," Ross said, annoyed at Tony's lack of response.
Tony grimaced; despite Ross being a major prick, he wasn't wrong about Steve or Barnes. Barnes, alone, had almost taken him out and Tony wasn't sure that he would have walked away from a fight with the Winter Soldier if he hadn't been running on anger and vengeance.
He already knew that Steve could kick his ass and that was only proved during the fight. Steve could've killed him if he wanted to and for a moment, Tony was almost positive that Steve was about to do it.
Separate the two of them could probably take him down. Together they were deadly.
Tony's helmet focused on the large windows that graced the side of King T'Challa's mansion. Inside there were men and women in white lab coats and despite their calm façade, Tony could see their tense shoulders and tight lips.
He frowned, looking harder into that room. What was it about that room that had the men and women so amped up?
There was a long, clear, cylinder in the center of the room. The glass of the tube was frosted over, only just beginning to melt. To the left of the tube was tables filled with papers and microscopes and then to the right was a gurney, the white sheet rumbled from recent use.
Tony inhaled sharply. "I'll be damned."
"What?" Ross demanded.
Tony ignored him, instead he powered his thrusters towards that side of the building, intending to land and get an up-close look at that room.
Landing on large stone balcony, Tony immediately set out towards the double glass doors that led inside. His steps faltered as he caught sight of a grim looking T'Challa standing at the doors with his arms crossed over his grey suit.
Swallowing, Tony pushed on, his helmet sliding back to reveal his face.
"King T'Challa," Tony said, entering the building. He kept his tone respectful; he didn't want to piss the guy off, he had seen the damage Black Panther had caused.
"Tony Stark," T'Challa returned. "Why have you come here?"
"We know you're housing Steve Rodger, aka Captain America, and James Buchanan Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier. They're prisoners of the United States of America and, with respect, you need to hand them over," Tony stopped. Ross' words felt heavy on his tongue, but he didn't have any of his own for the King of Wakanda.
T'Challa, for his part, didn't look impressed. He shifted, his black shoes making small squeaking sounds against the tile floor. "How do you know this?"
"I tracked them here," Tony said. "The 'how' is complicated, but the 'why' is simple. Barnes is dangerous. You know this. And Steve, well, Steve is dangerous as long as Barnes is around."
T'Challa's lips tightened.
"Listen, I'd love to keep chatting with you, but there's a room that I'm very interesting in seeing," Tony said, sidestepping T'Challa, who let him go.
His metal feet were loud against the floor and were the only sound when he stepped inside the room that he had seen from the outside.
The men and women inside were frozen, staring at him. It looked as if they had stopped their work the minute Tony had entered the building.
Ignoring them, Tony paced forward to the glass cylinder that had captured his attention. Tony let his metal hand slide away so that his real, flesh one remained. He pressed a finger against the cool surface of the glass. His fingerprint melted the remaining ice away in that area.
Tony's eyes flickered to the gurney that he had seen, noting the creases in the white sheet and the tight straps that hung from the sides.
"Tony, dammit, listen to me!" Ross' voice finally registered in his ear. Rolling his eyes, Tony put a finger to his ear.
"Yes, dear?"
"Check that attitude, Stark," Ross snapped. "I'm coming in."
It didn't take Ross long to come marching through the doors dressed in black fatigues, a dark scowl on his face.
He gave Tony a long look, his eyes traveling to the glass tube that had captured Tony's attention.
"What's that?" He gestured with his chin, coming to stand next to Tony.
Tony gave Ross a sidelong look. "This," he said, trailing his bare finger down the frosted glass, "is what T'Challa was using to keep Barnes. It's a cryochamber," he added at Ross' blank look.
Ross' mouth twisted, his moustache twitching above his lips. "So you were right. They are here."
"Were," Tony corrected. "They were here. Not anymore."
"We don't know that for sure," Ross said, pressing a finger to the earpiece fixed in his ear. "Send men through the compound; I want everything searched. Stay on your toes, boys, the Captain and Barnes might still be here."
He turned to Tony.
"They're not here, Ross," Tony said. "Do you honestly think that Steve wouldn't have caught wind of what we're up to? He's been on the run for nine months, he's still got friends within what remains of SHIELD—he knows how to evade us."
Ross glared, but gave a grudging nod. "What about the rest of them? Any sign on them?"
Tony's stomach clenched at the thought of the rest of his "friends." They had chosen to side with Steve and apparently had no regrets about it either. Of course, he had managed to find Scott Lang without much difficulty, but decided that Lang had enough problems without adding Ross to the mix. Besides, Tony doubted that Steve had really even filled the man in on what they had been fighting about. The others were harder. Natasha was a ghost, and Clint wasn't far behind her in that department. Tony had no doubt that Clint had taken Wanda under his wing so she was gone too. That left Sam. Sam would follow Steve anywhere, which meant that he was probably with Steve and Barnes now.
"Stark."
Tony jerked a little at Ross' tone. He shook his head rapidly. "Nope. No sign of any of them."
Ross narrowed his eyes at the other man, suspicion shining clearly in them.
"C'mon," Tony said. "We should talk to the King about what exactly he thought he was doing housing a dangerous assassin."
...
Sam wasn't exactly Bucky Barnes' number one fan (that place was reserved for Steve Rodgers), but he was Steve's friend and he would do whatever Steve needed from him. And Steve needed to save Bucky, whatever the cost. This had gotten Sam more trouble than he thought was possible, but he didn't regret helping.
Sam couldn't help the little glances back to Barnes, while he flew the jet out of Wakanda. Bucky was slumped against the side of the jet. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed. He looked exhausted, which seemed backward to Sam because all that Bucky had been doing was sleeping for the past nine months. Bucky's missing arm looked out of place on the man, but Sam didn't doubt that Bucky could still choke him out with his one good hand.
Sam's eyes shifted from Bucky to Steve, who sat on his right. Steve was watching Sam, who guiltily tried to hide the fact that he had been frowning at Bucky.
"What?" Steve asked quietly. "What's with that look?"
Sam shrugged. "How's he doing?"
Steve's eyebrows drew together at the non-answer. "He's not great, but he'll be okay."
"Good."
There was a pause.
"What's the matter, Sam? You keeping eyeing Bucky like he's gonna jump you."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Sam muttered.
"He's not the same—," Steve started.
"I know, I know," Sam interjected. "You've been over it and I understand better than most what war does to a man."
"But?" Steve prompted.
"But that doesn't change that whether he likes it or not, Barnes is a threat."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Sam didn't let him. "We saw what happened in Berlin. Zemo said the magic words and bam, no more Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn. He could've killed us and he wouldn't have even known. It doesn't matter that he's trying to change, what matters is that whoever has those damn words has him."
Steve's lips thinned, but he didn't disagree.
"Who has them? The words?" Sam asked.
"Who do you think?" Steve said sharply. "The CIA have Zemo, who in turn had the red book. Ross and Tony have the words." Steve's throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly. "If they get their hands on him, they can say the words and make him do whatever they want."
"The question is," Sam said slowly, "what do they want?"
"We don't know," Steve said. "Nine months ago, I would've told you that Tony wouldn't do something like this. That he wouldn't try to capture Bucky, but now, I don't know what Tony is thinking. Ross is simpler. He wants us under his thumb. He's wanted that from the start. Sure it's his thumb and the rest of the United Nations, but he's the one that they sent to us. He's got more than just good intentions about keeping the Avengers in check up his sleeve."
Sam snorted. "I didn't like that guy from the minute he stepped inside."
Steve's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me either." His face darkened again as he glanced over his shoulder to his sleeping friend. He let out a slow breath. "I just want him to be safe, you know?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know."
Steve ran a hand through his short hair. "This is a mess, Wilson, and I don't know how to get us out of it."
Sam gave Steve a long look. "It's not your job to save us. We can take care of ourselves, even your friend back there can protect himself. Don't keep all this on your shoulders, man. Let us help. We'll figure something out. We always do."
Steve gave Sam a grateful smile.
"So, where to next, Captain?"
Steve gave a vague shrug. "Not sure—," he stopped abruptly as Bucky gave a sudden yell from the back of the plane.
Both he and Sam jerked around at the sound, but Bucky hadn't moved from his slumped position. His arm was twitching and his face was contorted into a painful grimace.
Sam and Steve shared a look.
"He's dreaming," Sam said.
Bucky let out another tortured yell, prompting both men to surge their feet.
...
The blood wasn't a surprise. That's expected when you repeatedly punch someone's face. No, the surprise was from the man's reaction. He didn't recoil in fear from the Soldier, but almost leaned towards his deadly embrace. The Soldier had expected pleading and fear, but received none. Instead his target had looked up at him first with familiarity and then shock when the Soldier began to beat him with his fist.
The man's blood stained the Soldier's silver hand, but that didn't matter. The man is dead and soon the woman will be too. Soon, they'll just be two more faces to add to the list of ghosts that haunt his dreams.
He circled around the back of the car to the passenger side, the woman was helpless in her tangled seatbelt. Using his flesh hand, the Soldier pressed his fingers against her throat, squeezing. He could feel her throat bobbing under his palm and her hands that began to claw at his, but he didn't feel the pain that came from her nails.
Her movements slowed and then stopped. The Soldier released his grip around her neck and stepped back to observe his handiwork.
Two more kills for the Soldier, two more faces to add to his collection.
"Bucky," a voice entered the Soldier's head. "Bucky."
He frowned at the distraction, but knew that he couldn't ignore this new threat.
"Bucky, you need to wake up—oof." The Soldier lashed out, his flesh hand hitting something soft.
Bucky's eyes snapped open, the Soldier disappearing into the depths of his mind. He jerked up, but a firm pair of hands clutched at his chest and shoulders. Sam Wilson's face swam into view above him, eyes dark.
Bucky looked away from Wilson to where he had knocked Steve away from him. He grimaced at Steve sitting in a heap at his feet. Even without his more powerful metal arm, Bucky was still able to catch Steve pretty good on his jaw; a red mark was stark against Steve's skin. He rubbed at it ruefully.
"That'll teach me to stick my head where it doesn't belong," Steve said, catching Bucky's eyes. "You back with us, buddy?"
Bucky gave a short nod, before turning his attention to where Sam still held him down. He gave Sam a dark look that conveyed his feelings on being touched by Wilson.
Sam loosened his grip and stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Sorry, man, you were thrashing around; Steve thought you were going to hurt yourself."
Bucky ignored Sam and leaned forward, pressing his hand against his forehead. His dark hair fell around his face, shielding him from Steve and Sam.
There was a silent conversation going on above his head, Bucky knew, but didn't care; his head was pounding in time with his wild heart. He took a silent breath, forcing his heart to slow its beat, to calm down.
A scuffle of a boot against the floor of the jet told him that someone had left; probably Sam, leaving him alone with Steve.
The metal bench that he sat on warped a little as Steve sat down next to him. He could feel Steve's hesitation beside him. Steve's hand hovered above his hunched back.
"I'm okay," Bucky said, his voice muffled. He shifted and straightened, turning to face Steve's concerned face. "I'm fine. This happens."
Steve frowned, dropping his hand to his lap. "What happens? Nightmares?"
"No," Bucky said, "memories."
Steve grimaced.
"I can usually keep them at bay," Bucky continued, his eyes leaving Steve's worried eyes, focusing on a point over his friend's shoulder. "Whenever they pulled me from cryosleep, the memories started up. They come, one-by-one or sometimes all at once. There was always a short stint between me waking and them scrambling my brain to chase away my thoughts, but that time was the worst." Bucky stopped abruptly. He moved his gaze back to Steve, who had a mixture of disgust and anger splayed across his features.
"My point," Bucky continued, "is that this is normal."
"You don't want me to worry," Steve finally said. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Bucky gave him a forced smile. "Something like that."
"Too late," Steve mumbled, brushing a hand across his tired eyes.
Bucky winced as he caught sight of the bruising he had given to Steve's jaw.
"It's best to let me be," Bucky said, nodding to Steve's jaw.
"You know I can't do that," Steve said, suddenly very serious.
Bucky swallowed slightly. Steve's words were double edged; he wasn't just talking about letting Bucky push through the memories on his own, he was talking about Bucky in general. He wasn't going to leave Bucky to wolves that were coming.
Steve tried to hold Bucky's eye, but his friend suddenly became very interesting in his remaining hand twisted on his lap. He wanted Bucky to realize that he wasn't going to leave him; he knew that Bucky did know this, especially after everything that had happened with Tony, but it wouldn't stop Steve from reinforcing this idea.
Steve eyed Bucky's metal stump, although it was hard to get a good view of it from where he sat. He knew that something would have to be done about that if Bucky was going to be able to fight for himself. Not that Bucky wouldn't be able to fight with just one arm; his friend was capable of seemingly impossible feats.
Of course, Steve already had a solution; he and T'Challa had discussed at great length what was to be done when Bucky woke up. T'Challa told his engineers and scientists what he needed and since he was King, they got to work on it right away.
Steve's eyes flickered to the long black case that T'Challa had given him. It sat across from him, pushed under the metal bench that lined the wall of the small plane.
Steve stood up, looking down at his hunched friend. His mouth filled with words he wanted to tell Bucky, but he sighed and kept it simple.
"Get some more rest, Buck. We're going somewhere safe." He turned on his heel, heading back to the front of the plane when he heard Bucky's soft reply: "Yeah, but safe for how long?"
...
T'Challa denied holding Steve and Bucky in his palace or even in his country. Tony wasn't the only one who knew it was bullshit. But there wasn't much they could do; this wasn't their country and they couldn't exactly arrest the King of Wakanda.
Ross was positively seething across from Tony on the trip back to their home base in their private jet.
"They were there. We could've ended this."
Tony slouched further down in his plush chair, closing his eyes. "Yeah, we might have been able to bring them in, but it wouldn't have ended there."
Ross narrowed his eyes at the dark haired billionaire. He swirled his glass of bourbon, the ice clinking against each other and the sides of the cup.
"Do you even have a plan for how to end this, Ross?" Tony continued, keeping his eyes shut. "I'm only seeing two ways that this mess ends. First," Tony stabbed a finger into the air, "we managed to somehow bring in both Steve and Barnes—then what? We put them both in the Raft. But we already know that won't hold them. So then what do we do with them? I don't know what we do. Option two," Tony's first finger was joined by a second, "we kill them."
Ross stilled in his seat.
Tony straightened and opened his eyes to meet Ross' grimly. "Obviously, I don't want option two."
Ross snorted softly. "Nine months ago you did."
"Well, I don't want Steve dead," Tony amended. "I could live if Barnes accidently died."
"You think the only way they would die is by accident?"
"Clearly, you want them alive, Ross, there's no way you'd give the order for them to be killed."
"You've grown cold in your old age, Stark," Ross said. "You really wouldn't think twice if Barnes died?"
"Not that you knew me when I was a young lad," Tony said, "but no, I don't think I would lose sleep over Barnes." Tony adverted his eyes; he didn't mention the countless sleepless nights that already plagued him. The faces that already haunted his mind wouldn't mind the company of one more. Tony was willing to add Barnes to that company if it meant that his mom and dad were avenged.
He knew that type of thinking wasn't fair; Barnes was only the face of what had actually had his parents killed. Hydra was the true killer of Howard and Maria, but Barnes was the one that had done the deed. Tony didn't think he was ever going to forget the security footage of the stoic man calmly beating his father to death before moving on to his mom. The images were glued to the back of his eyelids and he saw them every time he closed his eyes.
But thinking about it like this was only succeeding in making him angry all over again. At Steve and his constant protection of Barnes, his lack of faith that maybe Tony would have been able to move past this if only Steve had come forward when he found out. At Barnes for being a victim, for not having control over his past actions, for not being the one that Tony could justifiably put all his blame on.
Tony pulled himself out of that black train of thoughts.
"So," Tony continued, ignoring Ross' scrutinizing gaze, "why do you want them?"
Ross didn't answer right away. He took a small sip of his drink, setting the glass down on the small table that separated them. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You're the genius, Stark, you tell me."
Tony rolled his eyes. "You could want them for any number of reasons. Control. You don't want two super soldiers running around willy nilly. Justice. You want to be the hero that brings the Winter Soldier to justice for the crimes that he's committed." Tony stopped. "I could go on, but I'd rather if you just cut the shit and told me what's going on."
"Not bad, Stark," Ross said. "Not bad at all."
Tony frowned.
"Unfortunately, you're not cleared to know why I want them. So until you are, I'm afraid you're in the dark," Ross continued.
"Bullshit," Tony said. "You're not telling me because you don't trust me."
"I don't trust anyone," Ross said. "Don't take it personally."
Tony sat forward. "You really don't trust me after everything that's happened? I stood with the Accords even when it split my team, my friends, down the middle and you still think that I can't be trusted?"
"Yes, you stood with me, but when the Raft was under attack you let them get away. I know that you believe in the Accords, Stark, but when you have to choose between me and them, you'll always choose them."
Tony chewed on his lip to stop himself from blurting out the first few dozen words about just what he thought about Ross and his reasoning. After he managed to stop that, he actually took a moment to think about what Ross was saying.
He sat up when he figured it out, glaring at Ross. "So whatever you have planned has to do with the team. You think because I chose them that I won't stand for what you're going to do."
"That's part of it," Ross allowed.
"What's the other part?" Tony demanded.
"The other part is simply that I'm just not allowed to say because you don't have the proper clearance."
Tony took a slow, deep breath. Since when had he ever let something like clearance stop him from finding out what he wanted to know? Never, that's when.
Ross' shady attitude was making Tony's stomach flip; he knew that whatever was going on he probably wasn't going to like.
...
Berlin. CIA Base.
Zemo stared back at the CIA agents that were glaring at his glass cage. The three suited agents, mirrored each other's stances with their arms crossed over their chests.
"He's not going to speak to us," one of them finally said, turning to his fellow agents.
"Ye of little faith, Hardy," the sole woman of the three answered. "He doesn't need to tell us his life story."
"Locke's right," the final agent put in. "He just needs to tell us what to expect when we use the book. Ross doesn't want to fly blind when dealing with the Winter Soldier."
"We have all the information we need from the book," Locke added. "Whoever was writing it was detailed about his reports. This," she gestured to Zemo, "is just a precaution. It's more information to what we already have."
"But we don't even have him," Hardy interjected. "The Rosses are basing our assignment on the faint hope that the Winter Soldier will come out of hiding soon and that we'll be able to easily find him. He was gone for two years after DC, and even before that he was a ghost."
"It only took one person to report a sighting of him nine months ago for us to find him," Locke said. "It'll happen again and we'll get him."
"You're awfully confident," Hardy muttered.
Locke ignored this, focusing her attention back to Zemo's sullen face. He wasn't going to tell them anything. He had lost the will to live after he had completed his mission to tear the Avengers apart. He was only alive because King T'Challa had stopped his attempted suicide and now in the CIA's hands they weren't going to let him starve himself to death.
The Secretary of State Ross thought he would be useful when they finally got their hands on the Winter Soldier, so he was a high priority prisoner.
Locke's lips curled a little at the thought of her boss, Everett Ross, working with Thaddeus Ross. The two men were both eager to bring in the Winter Soldier, but it was unclear what they planned to do after that impossible task was completed. She didn't see the two men working well together, both of them were used to being in command and giving orders that they expected to be carried out promptly. But, Locke supposed they would make it work; they had a common goal after all.
A phone buzzed.
"This is Branson," the remaining agent said, answering it. He listened, grimacing a little. "I understand, sir." Listening for a few more moments, Branson finally said, "We're on our way."
He put his phone away, motioning for the others to follow him out of the room. "That was Everett. He said Ross just checked in and that they weren't able to get him."
Both Hardy and Locke released their hopeful breaths.
"But they were close," Branson continued. "Ross says they couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. He and Stark are heading back to their home base in Africa to regroup and try to figure out where Rodgers would go next. They'll probably be heading back here soon."
"What does Everett want from us?" Hardy asked, the three of them staying in step with each other.
Branson glanced to his left to the other agent. "He's getting annoyed about Zemo's lack of communication, but he never really thought that Ross' plan to get Zemo to talk would work. He wants us working another angle."
"What angle? We've got nothing else," Locke said.
"Apparently we do," Branson said.
"What?"
"Not what," Branson said. "Who."
A/N: So, this story wasn't supposed to happen. I originally just wanted to write a one-shot about Bucky, but it turned into this and now I'm planning out the rest of the story.
As usual, I'm a little nervous about posting this so any feedback would be awesome! Thanks!
(The chapter title is from a twenty one pilots song of the same name. It's an excellent song, actually they're an excellent band, so go check them out)