Just a quick, deeper look into the ending scene of Captain America and Bucky #624, because who doesn't like more BuckyNat?

They were experts at getting in places they weren't meant to be... but that wasn't how it went this time. Instead they got badges, signed their aliases into the visitor's log and Natasha thanked the nurse Dorris lavishly. She compensated for how edgy he felt anyways.

She set the pace through the bare walls of the hallway too. A picture scattered here and there and his usual clipped pace was slowed and hesitant. His eyes slid to any distraction and James lurked back, gloved hands stuffed into his jacket pocket as deep as they'd go. He had that all too familiar feeling of being in the wrong skin as he approached the daunting doorway, decorated with a sign and little trinkets with a doormat.

Room 624.

"I don't know now," He breathed out honestly as he stood before the doorway, still.

"You came all this way," Natasha pointed out matter of factly from his side. He glanced at her, but her face showed no answers, she just blinked slowly back at him. His choice, right. He closed his eyes and looked back to the doorway. He wasn't able to sum up what he was thinking, he clenched his eyes shut, before reopening his eyes to settle them on hers.

"Well... she could not recognize me," He mentioned lamely.

"You aged gracefully Barnes."

He snickered at her light sarcasm. "Yeah exactly... what if I scare her to death? It's not exactly... 1942 was a long time ago..."

"You don't say." Her light teasing didn't pull him out of it like it usually did. Instead he stared at the number and he felt it growing farther and farther from him. But his body wasn't moving, it was just the world speeding by him without him.

"James," Nat called softly to him. He peeled his eyes up to look into hers. She gently cupped his jaw and smiled patiently. He stared back, feeling the sense of being lost again. Who was it that was supposed to be standing here? Which part of him?

"We're here. I'll go in, and if you want to come in, do. If you don't, then don't," She offered, running her fingers down from his face. Natasha always made everything seem as simple as it would be out in the field, but he found everything outside of it never was for him.

Natasha stepped in front of him and he finally found the words he'd been looking for as her hand brushed against the doorknob and she raised a hand to knock. His words rocketed out to stop her.

"What if this isn't good for her?" He protested solemnly. "She's the last person I ever want to hurt."

"From what I've heard, James, it'd hurt her if you didn't try."

"Yeah," He muttered, running a hand across the glove covering his metal hand indecisively. He'd decided that already too, or he wouldn't be here. But now it seemed like the dumbest decision... thoughtless, almost. James didn't have a lot of good to bring her.

Natasha didn't move, waiting for his decision. He swallowed, muscles tightening until he let out heavy sigh. He nodded his acceptance and she turned from the door and leaned forward. Natasha pressed her lips against his cheek and he tried to take some comfort in her gesture. She'd be able to tell if it was... okay, or not. He trusted her. She knocked and he heard the voice call out a simple 'come in'. She slid in and he hovered near the door she hadn't quite shut for him.

"Hi, Mrs. Proctor? Yes! Oh I'm well. Natasha, good to meet you as well."

He leaned in, unable to hear the other occupant, settling his ear just near the opening.

"You were the one inquiring about our Jimmy?" He could just barely hear her speak now and his breath still caught in his throat.

"That was me yes, I'm sure you've had a lot of reporters over the years but I'm not here for a story..."

Over the years. He felt nauseous and dug into his pocket to tug out a worn square photo on a thick card stock. Hell knew how it lasted eighty years, but he gazed down at the dark haired man in uniform, his hands on either shoulder of two children in front of him. One a little girl and another hand placed on his spitting image at ten. Him. James glanced down at the photo of the little girl's hand wrapped up in the young man's. His, or it was once. With her bear under her arm in her pleated dress. He could suddenly remember how stiff it was, she'd get it caught on branches and it'd tear the pleats out.

James looked back at the door, remembering why he'd come here. Because of the frail voice conversing with Natasha just behind it. He'd been shocked when he found out she was still alive... it was easy to simply assume anyone from his past was dead besides Steve. But not her... his baby sister was in a nursing home at 88 years old. He couldn't check on her as a stranger, he knew that wouldn't work despite how simple it would be... and he couldn't imagine explaining it all to her. No. He never could. His metal hand clicked as he rolled the fingers into a fist and let go of the old photograph. Shit, he couldn't even explain the better parts.

James grew unfocused from the world around him, lulled by the sound of her aged voice. They had a few good years, the three of them. It only lasted so long, though. After Mother died, Pops was at a war game at the time and they split up for a few months. His sister went to live with their Aunt Ida in Albany and he kept on base, he was a boy and Pops wasn't sure a man could raise a girl.

James had said some nasty things he wasn't much more than a little kid, because Becca being so little wanted to go with their Aunt. He'd thrown a tantrum at the little five year old and told her he'd forget her, pretend she didn't exist so long as he existed. Aunt Ida moved closer to the city when Pops got stationed there and they were together again until Pops died and then the state sent her away to boarding school. But by then he was old enough to put on a strong face for her, write to her, with Steve's pestering to help him remember of course.

It was that fight as an eight year old that had him here... because that had hurt her more than the child he'd been could understand. When she got back, and the three of them were together again, she'd been so clingy. He hadn't minded, Pops told him he needed to be strong for her and he'd wanted to be back then.

Then. Now, James couldn't help his first instinct upon finding out she was alive was to hide himself as best he could from her. It would make things simpler for her, status quo. Whatever hurt had been there for her when he 'died' in the War, well, that was old news. It would be simpler for him too, but he couldn't, because he couldn't pretend she didn't exist, even if it had just been silly words between two children. He spent enough of his own time not existing.

So here he was... convinced it was the right thing to do. So why was he thinking of being a coward and breaking his promise to her? He shoved the picture of the vibrant little girl back into his pocket and leaned up against the doorway.

"I'm an acquaintance of Steve's, you see."

"Ooh yes I remember Steve Rogers, some, mind you. I tell everyone not to bother me with that, I was very young when they first met and then I was off to boarding school. Oh but no one believes me, that it was always Steve who dragged poor James into trouble."

"Yes that sounds very much like Steve."

He could hear the warmth in Natasha's voice and it eased some of his tension. Well Steve did get in his own trouble, but James had been an aggressive kid at best after they lost his mother. He got in more fights than he could count until Steve came around and he had some reason not to and they moved off base. He'd understood Steve as much as he'd admired him.

"Finally! Someone listens, no one ever really believes me," Her laugh turned into a slight cough and he edged the door open realizing there was no good point to jump into... he just had to. She sounded lucid.

"Steve wanted me to inquire about your brother."

"Yes, all that was quite strange a few years back... being stuck in ice and such. So unlikely."

"It is an incredible story, but all true," Natasha moved her on. "Your brother, how did you find out?"

"That he..." Rebecca stopped speaking for a moment and James paused, hand on the door to push it open and clenched his eyes shut at the pain in his sister's voice. "A telegram, the army sent it... he'd gone off to war in 1942... the army informed me he died somewhere in Germany, but that the details had to be kept classified, of all the things..."

"Yes, well that's why Steve sent me," Natasha spoke gently and he fought the strong urge to run. "He wants you to know the truth."

"Yes. I heard they all say he served with Captain America, I assumed that was why it was classified, but I'm really not interested in..."

He shoved the door open then, at the tight, hurt in her voice, not really knowing what he was doing but he just... couldn't really stand there when she was talking about all this. Imagining that while he was off murdering everyone the Winter Soldier was pointed at... she was here, suffering with all this loss. Completely alone. The hurt he inflicted back then never stopped surfacing.

"Ah, there you are," Natasha smoothed his entrance as he turned and clicked the door shut. He couldn't have anyone walking in on this sort of conversation. "Mrs. Proctor... this may be a shock, but Steve wasn't the only super soldier frozen in ice that day."

He turned from the door cautiously, glancing at the old woman lying in bed pained. It didn't seem right. Her hair was grey and her face wrinkled, and it was a far stretch from the little sister clutching her teddy he used to tuck in while Pops was on base. Hearing her talk had let his imagination run away with him... but hell, he didn't have an inkling how this would feel. James didn't realize just how cheated he felt, for both of them.

"J... Jimmy?" She gasped, hand shooting up to her chest. Natasha, sitting in a chair next to her put a hand on her shoulder. "Beg my pardon sir, I'm sorry, I must be seeing..."

"You're not," Natasha said quickly and he stood straighter, looking at her quietly from afar.

"Hey Becca..." He spoke up, pulling up a mask, maybe his oldest mask. Unworried, not angry and volatile, like he'd been at that age after the loss of his parents. His first mask, really, was the one he put on for Rebecca to let her know it was all okay.

"I don't... I don't..."

She was starting to hyperventilate and touched her forehead. He walked briskly to her bed, unsure what to do. This was what he'd been worried about.

"Mrs. Proctor, remember what I said about the ice? Your brother was with Steve."

James marveled at her, sometimes. Well, most times... but she wasn't even lying. Bucky had gone down with Steve in a way. He'd been with Steve when he died. Or almost died. He was dragged through the icy tundra, half alive. He was in the ice with Steve, sometimes, when they had him tucked away. She really was brilliant. He was no super soldier, but he had things done to him, he healed better than most. But if that simple explanation made it easier on Rebecca... that might make it best, to keep it like that. To keep him like Bucky alongside Captain America, like the public knew. That would be best for his sister.

"I just... it can't be," She whispered hoarsely and he sat down next to her on the bed, reaching out with a gloved hand for hers. She stared straight at him and then slowly lowered her hand into his.

"Shhh," He muttered, smiling widely for her. She blinked a few times before she sat forward and slid her arms around his shoulders, tears springing to her eyes. He clenched his eyes and gently put his arms around her frail shoulders. "I'm sorry 'Becca... I didn't have any control over it all, I just woke up," He admitted his guilt in the most innocent way he could. Following Natalia's lead... it was true, James Buchanan Barnes did just start to wake up. Just not from an icy slumber.

"I can't believe it, after all these years. How I've missed you Jimmy," She mumbled and he helped her sit back in bed when she struggled to.

"I know," he smiled bitterly, "It seems the woman in my life have always found my humanity..." He glanced from her to Natalia for a moment who smiled his way softly. He looked back at his aged sister and she seemed to be struggling after getting so emotional.

"Hm?" She asked him.

"But you know that 'Becca," He tried to remind her, reaching out to set his gloved hand over hers, bracing his arm on the other side of her legs as she leaned back in bed and glanced at him warily suddenly. "You were my little sister."

"But Jimmy, how are you so young? You haven't changed a bit." She muttered awed and he smiled again. But before he could remind her about Natalia's story about the ice she spoke again, her voice seemed to grow lighter. "Is Poppa with you?"

His face hardened then, and he struggled to keep his composure as his sister stared at him questioningly. He stood then, leaning over her bed a bit to pat her leg. "No, Becca. He's not..."

They stared at each other and he realized she wasn't really seeing it now. He felt lost again, unsure where he was supposed to go, what he should do... Natasha saved him from it, she'd apparently walked around to his side of the bed and leaned in past him and he sat back in a chair next to her bed.

"It's nice finally meeting you, Becca. I've heard so much." Natasha said politely, warmly even and he was glad, because he felt incapable of it just now. Her mind was gone... and it felt too late all over again. He felt like when he'd first come out of it.

"We should go James," Natasha muttered soothingly, her arm running across his shoulders. He stared ahead at the woman who didn't recognize any of it really. Maybe it was impossible for Rebecca to gain anything from him being here. She started to retreat to give him room to get up when Rebecca suddenly sat up and grabbed Natasha's wrist.

"Wait." Rebecca's voice seemed clearer suddenly as she stared up imploringly at Natasha. "You seem like a good woman, Natasha. That's what Jimmy deserves. Someone to take care of him."

"I try my best Rebecca. Don't worry."

His face crumpled in some sort of relief, in whatever way... she seemed to understand just now. She maybe wasn't catching it all... but she knew. She was connecting to the present.

"He's too busy taking care of everyone else to do it for himself," She implored again. And... connecting to the past, too. He had to look down from the bossy look she sent his way because that was Becca for you. They were both here in this moment and it took all he had not to lose his composure then as a warm smile stretched across his face.

"I know... believe me." Natasha replied and he grinned harder. He'd make some sort of remark about all that... but he couldn't... Maybe Becca wasn't completely gone after all. He stood up from his seat then, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, setting his hand on her head. He missed her... and he would continue to miss her... but she knew. She existed.

"Get some sleep, sis. I love you," He told her and she hummed for a minute, when he pulled back she seemed to be trying to concentrate again. They should really go, though, he wanted to leave it here. He didn't want to confuse her more... Natasha took his hand and led him towards the door. He held it open as Becca called out girlishly after them.

"Don't forget the carnival is this weekend... I love the ferris wheel..."

She was back in the past again... maybe she even thought he was their Pops, who took them to the fair when they were younger, trying to make things normal after Mom. He shut the door softly, and couldn't take more than a step before he slumped against the wall, leaning his head back against it.

He could hardly process all of it, the drain on his emotions overwhelming him when Natasha stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. James wanted to cry but he couldn't. He dropped his head to look down at her and as she curled up against him, he dropped his forehead on the top of her head, setting his arms around her. It felt like she was the only thing holding him up for a minute as the world... as lifetimes crashed against him.

He heard footsteps and the sounds of a nurse and it broke the quiet moment as they broke the embrace and both headed in the opposite direction from the nurse. He glanced back one more time at Room 624, smiling for a moment to himself. But she knew.

As soon as they got back outside, he let his guard down again as he handed her one of the helmets and clasped his between his hands. Natasha fiddled with hers between her arms and he glanced at her, a worn but content smile finally folding across his face.

"Thanks for this, Nat. I needed her to know, even if she won't remember..." He really would never be able to tell this woman properly what she did for him. Never be able to thank her enough... but in this case... he really couldn't. This was something sacred... and he knew he wouldn't have gotten through it without her here.

"Anything for you James... as always." She answered and he just stared at her awed until she reached up to put her helmet on and he broke his own trance and did the same. He kicked the bike to life as she slid on it behind him and he pulled them out of the St. Francis Alzheimer's Hospital.

"Now lets go catch some bad guys..." She called over the roar of the bike carrying them away.