Shatter Me

by Ookami21Kage

Bucky's programming starts to fail and he remembers someone important. Now forced to live his life without her, he fights the losing battle with the Winter Soldier on his own. Until Steve comes face to face with a blast from the past that will change the course of their lives forever. Warnings: language, might be a little OOC for CA. OC centric in parts, focus on WS though

1. PART 1: Dim Flickering Candle Light

PLEASE READ BEFORE COMMENCING STORY:

There are a lot of inaccuracies in this story, I am aware. It's just a story, calm down.

I know the story about the girl without a cerebellum is based on a true story, but it doesn't actually have anything to do with that… I didn't even know it had really happened until someone pointed it out to me. I did a semester of Neuroscience so I have a bit of a background, but only the basics.

I know the story is OC centric at times and a lot of people don't like that, feel free to stop reading at any point, I'm not holding a gun to your head. The point of the story, however, is the subtle truths that the OC tells. She serves more as the conscience of the characters than an entity on her own as she is unattainable at best, in reality.

I hope someone, at least, sees the merit in the concept and enjoys the idea as much as I did. It's quite a leap of faith, but hey… It's about time I took a risk like this and put myself out there again.

Now without further stalling:

PART 1: Dim Flickering Candle Light in the Darkest Night

Adelaide Kane stared silently at the brain scans before her, the backlight of the x-ray viewing screens hummed softly. No matter how many times she did this, the human brain never ceased to amaze her. When she was contacted by this particular hospital to consult on this particular case she was not expecting to walk into a situation she has never dealt with before. She thought she'd seen it all.

Yet, the scans do not lie; a young woman born without a cerebellum. Living, breathing, functioning as a normal human being, baring a few mild neural impairments, but missing an entire part of crucial grey matter. In the last few decades she had often come to question exactly why she continued on this path she had chosen for herself. Why medicine? Why couldn't she be a simple woman who got excited about the perfect pair of shoes, or a woman who dreamt only of her wedding day and the 2.5 kids she would have? The bliss an ordinary life can bring to some people astounded her. Why was she constantly plagued by this… ambition… this curse. She sighed. Cases such as this brought back a flicker of recognition for why she started on this path all those years ago. The brash attempt to quell the aching need to know more, to understand more. And why medicine? Well, the human species of course. Since the day she watched her mother die from a disease that could not claim her little sister, Adelaide had been fascinated by the astonishing capacity of the human body to heal itself… and sometimes, its failure to do so.

After graduating from Johns Hopkins University as one of the first females in her field at 21, she had spent years on her search to understand the intricacies of life, and this search led her from the rigid and scientific world of medicine into the tangible and uncertain waters of psychology, which she chose to actively avoid of late. Because, as it turned out, it was the human spirit that truly held its sway over the course of a person's life. Sure, dread diseases played their part, but the underlying fact, the fact that interested Adelaide the most, was the fact that those who do not want to fight do not make it. Why is it that one's will to live is so dreadfully important when all else fades away?

"Dr. Kane?" The nurse's voice brought her back to the present as she turned around to face the younger woman. "Dr. Kellman is ready for you." The nurse added. Adelaide nodded as the nurse departed.

Dr. David Kellman was a gentleman with greying hair and round glasses. He waited for Adelaide in a consultation room, a nervous look in his eyes which he seemed to hide fairly well. Years and years of practice, Adelaide imagined. He was frantically paging through a well-cared for copy of Cognitive NeuroScience by a doctor 'Louis A. Hale', the book was considered one of the most accurate tomes of human neural functioning ever compiled. Adelaide sighed under her breath, the name now seemed alien to her, one that had fallen out of use long ago.

"Ah! Adelaide, good to see you. Sister Austin tells me that you have perused the scans thoroughly and that you have had a chance to speak to the patient, yes?" He stammers hastily over the words as he looks at her with a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I have." Is all she gives back.

"What are we to do?" He asks, uncertain of her calm demeanour in a situation that obviously unnerves him. It would unnerve him, he has not seen as much as she has, but he will never know that.

Adelaide sighs, audibly this time. "The patient seems content, David. She came in complaining of a headache and that seems to be her biggest concern. The only obvious neural disturbance she seems to have is a slight slur and a moderate gate. The initial neurological exam is fascinating, but not concerning. I would suggest you monitor her and perhaps arrange for some collateral care by a neuropsychologist and a physiotherapist. Other than that, give her a migraine cocktail and send the poor woman home. I reckon you have sufficiently frightened her as it stands."

Adelaide has quite a number of years on Dr. Kellman, he was only now approaching his early 60's and had much still to learn of the consequences of immersing oneself too deeply into a specific case. In a small city such as this it was unlikely that he had seen such a significant case before. Dr. Kellman scoffed at her indignantly. He had been warned of Dr. Kane's frankness, but he did not expect her to seem quite so disinterested in an obviously unique find such as this. "But she is missing an entire segment of her brain! She should not even be alive!"

"Dr. Kellman, in all my years in the field I have learned but one thing worth remembering thus far, and that is; no matter what, life will out. In the end we need to understand where to draw the line in just how much we attempt to do for our patients. The fact that she is alive is a miracle, yes, but often survival is a much simpler thing than we realize. It is the only option she had, and it was a choice that she did not necessarily realize she was making." She paused and watched the anger and indignation flare within him. "If you wish to explore the case in more detail then feel free to do so. I will put you in contact with one of my colleagues in Washington. He is an expert in the field and has built up quite the reputation for himself. He would be more than willing to help you in any way. I, on the other hand, must return to my own work as I do not believe I could be much help to you any further. My interests, as you are aware, lie with behaviour and human nature, although I have spent some time exploring neurology it is not my field of practice any longer."

He seemed taken aback by this statement. She was one of the most acclaimed neurosurgeons of the 21st Century, and hearing of someone abandoning their field so idly must come as a shock to a man like David Kellman. She knew that the only reason he had contacted her instead of Dr. Allan was because he heard she was related to the great Louis Hale. If he only knew…

After a rushed apology and quick exchange of collateral information and the contact details of Dr. Allan from Washington, Adelaide returned to her hotel room. It was only as she switched the flat screen TV on that she took note of the date. It was her birthday. She snorted and rubbed her aching neck. I'm getting too old for this. She found herself thinking.

So many decades spent immersed in science and books has left her weary. She needed a change of scenery. Adelaide slowly shed her clothes and shoes and padded over to the en-suit bathroom. The hotel room was luxurious and spacious. Decorated in a white and silver modern twist. She liked where décor was going; away from the madness of the 90's into a cleaner, colder direction. The plush off-white carpet gave way to cold white tiles. She relished the cold, an odd trait for someone who grew up poor, in Brooklyn, covered in snow.

For a moment her eyes caught a glimpse of a haunting sight; her reflection in the ceiling-to-floor mirror. Adelaide turned for a moment to look at herself, for the first time in a long time. She was old now, born in 1925, 89 years ago today….

Her slender figure was well looked after over the years and the time she had served as a field medic in the war saw to it that she held a fitter appearance than most women did. Her breasts were ample and proportionate to her hour glass figure, even naked like this they sat high on her chest. Her neckline was slender and classic, well defined despite her average height. Her skin was milky white and flawless… As tight as it had ever been. Her eyes were pools of dark green and her hair a wavy mass of cascading black silk that hung down her toned back past her tight buttocks, not a single grey could be found on her head. Her hands were small and her fingers slender, perfect for intricate surgery. And finally, her face was soft and pale, her feminine features held some subtle sharp edges, giving her the air of an outspoken, confident young woman… She was 89 years old, but had not seen a moments' whither beyond her 27th year. No wonder David had been so indignant when she spoke of her 'years of service'. She shook her head. To him she was nothing more than a silly girl barely out of med school, but this was not new to her.

The water from the shower hid the tears as they ran idly down her cheeks. Adelaide cursed under her breath as she shook her head disapprovingly. "You would think I'd be over it by now…" She whispered into the steam around her. All these years and he still makes me cry. She turned off the water and walked naked and wet back into the room, the cold air on her wet skin giving her goose bumps and making her remember him so much clearer. She reached out and picked up the chain on the bed that held the last remaining tie to her past: an engagement ring and 2 dog tags. Inside the ring was engraved the words 'forever mine'. Why tonight, why now? He'd been dead for so long and she made her peace with that a long time ago, but for some reason, she was crying for him again tonight. His cold blue eyes and cocky smile fresh in her mind as her thumb ran over the letters of his name engraved in the cold steel of the dog tag.

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes

-X-X-X-X-

Steve Rogers sat in the living room of his floor in Stark Tower, staring into nothing. His head was still reeling and his body still hurt. Memories flooded his mind in waves crashing unforgivingly onto the shore. Memories from his childhood, from his life before the serum. He remembered when they were children together, when they graduated highschool, when they moved out. He remembered everything so clearly; the days in the military, their time together in the Howling Commandos. He especially remembered the day his friend died… But Bucky… Bucky couldn't even remember his own name. Steve felt suddenly sick. Tears spilled from his eyes as the force of his reverie struck him to the core. He's been alive all this time, tormented and treated like a weapon, his mind taken from him. The weight of that thought bore down on the super soldier with unimaginable force. It was as if Bucky was dying again, right in front of him, over and over, until there was nothing left but what Steve had done… or what he had not done. He should have gone back for him. He should have gone to look for him.

Steve sobbed into his hands and let the pain consume him. If anything, he deserved nothing less.

-X-X-X-X-

It took Steve some time to find his composure again after that night back at the tower after his fight with Bucky in the helicarrier. But after about 2 weeks he found the courage to face the world again, albeit only to extract more information. He spoke to Natasha first, asking her if it was possible to get his hands on the original Winter Soldier file. She agreed to find it for him.

Additionally he asked Tony to do some digging and find out what he could from HYDRA and SHIELD's files on the internet. Now he was reviewing them with Tony in one of his many labs. Most of the information available related to the programming used to create the Winter Soldier. Steve didn't really want to know much about this, he couldn't bare it once he realized how brutal the process was.

One of the files that Tony opened contained a whole lot of information on Steve and Bucky before the war. Old photographs and video clips of them out with friends. Even though it wasn't necessarily essential information, Steve wanted to go through them, to make sure that no one had been watching them back then. The images flash before his eyes at a steady pace.

There was a set of photos depicting him and Bucky at a party at Bucky's parents' house. The faces were so familiar and yet they seemed so far away, as if he had only dreamt of those people, that they never really existed. Tony skipped to the next clip, which turned out to be video clip of the same day. It started with people laughing and glasses clinking, then focused in on people sitting around a table. Steve barely recognised himself in the clip, scrawny and small compared to the other people. Bucky was sitting next to him with a glass and a cigarette in one hand and his other arm around a girl sitting on his lap. Steve recognised her, and in seeing her he remembered what the party was about. It was an engagement party for Bucky. The engagement hadn't really come as much of a shock as the two of them had been inseparable since the day that Steve introduced them to each other 2 years prior. Someone called from outside the shot "Amaryne! Can I bring you a drink?" Amaryne turned around and nodded with a bright smile on her face. She swung one arm around Bucky's neck and kissed him without a care in the world. "Damn, Miss Hale, do you have any idea what you're getting yourself in to?" One of Bucky's brothers quipped at seeing the stupid smile on Bucky's face. The clip cuts off shortly after that, leaving Steve feeling heavier than before. Amaryne had spent the remainder of her life believing Bucky was dead. Steve wondered what she had done with her life eventually. She was always an ambitious young woman who had defied almost every social standard of the age. He couldn't help but think that she would have been extremely proud of what her defiance had meant for woman, judging by current social standards. It was girls like Amaryne and Peggy who shaped gender equality, without ever having such broad thoughts on what their defiance would mean 70 years later.

Despite everything, he found little useful information in the files that SHIELD and HYDRA had on him and Bucky. He needed to get his hands on the original Winter Soldier file.

That night Steve found himself strangled by yet another unbearable realization. If he did get Bucky back, and he started remembering, he would be faced with living the rest of his life without Amy. He knew what it was like for him learning about Peggy after he came back, and he had never even really had a relationship with her before. But Bucky knew Amy for a long time and they had been together for more than 7 years by the time Bucky died. For all his charm and way he had with women Bucky never really strayed from her. He took other girls out and danced and drank with them, but his heart always belonged to Amy, till the day he died. The Bucky that loved her would be devastated at her loss, the same way she had been at his. The last thing that Steve found himself wondering before he drifted off into a fitful sleep was whether Amy ever found peace after everything that happened. She was left all alone in the world back then, a world that frowned upon women with big dreams and big minds.

-X-X-X-X-

The Winter Soldier ran his right hand through his long hair as he looked at himself in the mirror. He barely recognised himself, never quite sure who was staring back at him. Since he dragged the Target out of the water that day he's been to hell and back. Now that his conditioned pathways were not being reinforced the barricades in his mind were collapsing.

He was constantly plagued by vivid, yet fragmented memories of a life he never even imagined he could've had. Friends, family, ambitions and goals of his own. He remembered other things as well, things that HYDRA and the Russians did to him. His right hand idly made its way down his neck and rested on the red star imprinted on his metal arm. The metal was cold and felt numb to him now; as if it was the first time he noticed it was there.

At times he didn't know whether to scream or cry at the things that ran through his head, but today he was oddly calm. He'd spent the whole of the previous day reliving memories of HYDRA torturing him, but now his mind seemed a little clearer. It was the first time he vaguely felt like himself in hell knows how long, not that he even knew what that meant; to feel like himself. He pulled a shirt over his head quickly and zipped up a black hoody to hide his face before he headed out the door of the motel room he'd been staying in.

He hated being in public, surrounded by people. Crowds made him nervous and he became agitated and tired so fast when he was around people. He was constantly checking for danger, someone was most likely following him and he was damn sure that he couldn't trust anyone. To top it all off; half the time he wasn't even sure if what he did was him or something that he had been programmed to do. Life, in general, was exhausting and dejecting to the Winter Soldier at present moment, or the Asset, or what the fuck ever he was supposed to be.

As he hurried through the crowd, he could hear his heart beating in his ears as he started to get tunnel vision, he knew this feeling and he fucking hated it. Soon he'd be feeling like he was dying again, and that in and of itself brought back a lot of memories he could do without.

He suddenly bumped into someone, which slowed him down. Although the other person, whoever it was, kept walking, it threw the Winter Soldier off guard. He came to a standstill for a moment to reorientate himself, trying to focus through the haze of people and the sound of his own blood pumping in his head.

He took a deep breath through his nose to try and steady himself. A rich smell filled him then. A familiar smell. A soothing smell. He closed his eyes where he stood, very out of character as it left him slightly more vulnerable. He breathed the smell in again trying to place it. Coffee. It was the smell of freshly brewed coffee. As if in a dream the rushing in head ceased and his heart rate slowed. The smell was so comforting that it sent the panic within him packing as quickly as it had come. When he opened his eyes again he found himself face to face with an inquisitive looking little girl staring up at him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, mouth slightly agape and head cocked to the side.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He answered. His voice sounded rough and heavy from disuse, but oddly enough he found himself believing the lie he was telling her, for some reason.

"What happened to you?" She asked pointing at his metal hand which he now realized was hovering at his side instead of tucked into a pocket as usual.

Something inside him compelled an absurd answer that he found he could not stop. "Cigarettes" He said with an alien sensation in his stomach and an odd smirk tugging at his lips. He could not fathom what would drive him to give such a ridiculous answer, but he didn't think it was programming that compelled it, either. For the moment at least, he decided to go with it.

She stared up at him with a typically shocked expression on her delicate features. Then, to his surprise, chose to ignore the information she had just been given. "Who are you?" She asked, the shock vanishing in an instant and being replaced by curiosity again.

This question was a little harder for him to answer. He wasn't exactly sure himself, but something inside of him insisted that you just don't leave a child's question unanswered.

"I'm Bucky." The words came on their own accord and flowed freely from his lips before he had consciously realized what he had said. Once he became more readily aware of what he'd said he found that he was stupidly happy about it. The little girl seemed content with this as she smiled up at him. "Hi Bucky! I'm Amaryne!"

Before he could say anything in return the girl's mother came rushing back and grabbed her by the arm, leading her away. Amaryne… The name kept ringing in his ears long after the little girl had been dragged off by her mother. It was the first time in a long time that he had had any meaningful interaction with another human being. And it was the first time that the other human being hadn't cared what he'd done or what had happened to him. All she wanted was to know his name, and to know if he was okay. This small assurance gave him a warm and hopeful feeling among the cold desolation that had plagued his life for weeks now. Maybe there was hope after all…

-X-X-X-X-

That night he found himself back in a warzone. He wasn't sure which warzone it was or when exactly it had happened, but it must have been a long time ago. There was snow everywhere and he was cold down to his bones. There were others with him, huddled around a fire.

Then the image faded and he was strapped down to a cold table, pain throbbing in his head. He could hear his own voice mumbling something… numbers?... into the darkness. The darkness faded into sudden painfully bright fluorescent lights above him. Fear started to drum in his shattered mind once more. His breathing became faster and he started to shake.

He wasn't sure now if he was awake or if this was still a dream. The smell of burning electricity permeated the air and he could hear people talking in the distance. He can't make out exactly what they're saying, but he recognizes the voices, or at least, a part of him does. Then he hears it, those two words that always send him into a downwards spiral that never ends well. "Wipe him." A voice says and then there is only pain.

He thrashes awake suddenly, gun in his hands, pointing at the wall on the other end of the room. When he realized that there is no one around he puts the gun down next to him. He is drenched in sweat and shaking where he's sitting. He can't decide what's worse; the dreams or the flashes of memory when he's awake. What was the point of all this? What was the fucking point of trying to sift through all of this shit in his mind if there was no one who gave a fiddlers fuck about him. Sure he knew this Captain America character from the bridge, and the guy had said some stuff about being his friend and something about a line, but that didn't mean a whole lot to him right now. Why would this guy even still care since the Soldier was pretty sure this so called 'friendship' was from years ago. His mind drifted back to the overwhelming calming feeling that the coffee smell had given him. He tried to remember what that had felt like, grasping at it for dear life. Anything to get this panic out of his mind.

He remembered the smell, sure enough, and although it gave him a little bit of comfort, it didn't help all that much now. Then he thought of the little girl in all her innocence. He was jealous of her now, so untouched by the world and it's all it god damn horrors. He tried to keep her in his mind, anything to try and ignore the panic that was building up inside him. He started shaking and he could feel his throat closing, denying him the precious air he needed to survive. What was her name? Ama something? Amanda? No, it was strange, almost, something to do with the weather. Oh yeah; Amaryne. Her name was Amaryne…

He frowned. Why did he know that it had something to do with the weather? It means rain, doesn't it? A memory tugged at a deep and buried part of his psyche as he focused in on the name, separating it from the girl somehow. He, with quite a bit of hesitation, focused in on the name a little more, tugging back at the distant memory. A face appeared in from of him then. A young woman, a little younger than he was at the time.

A vibrant, smirking, face that filled him with an all-consuming fire that burned the cold from his bones. Marble white skin and dark hair framed her face and she crinkled up her nose and reached for him. This startled him out of his reverie as he suddenly ducked away from the imaginary touch. For a moment he just sat there in silence, arms out behind him on the bed as he had ducked back from his previously forward slumped over position. He was almost calm in the silence of the night now but he had the strangest sensation at the back of his throat and there was water on his cheeks. He reached up hesitantly with his right hand and touched the moisture on his face. Not water; tears. He was crying.

It was an entirely foreign sensation to him. He couldn't decide whether it was better or worse than the panic. Once he realized that he was crying and not panicking anymore he found that he could not fight it. He ran his right hand through his hair again and let it rest on the back of his neck as he bowed his head forward and allowed himself to cry for the first time in what he imaged to be a hell of a long time. This new sense of despair and utter loneliness was yet another new thing that he had to come to terms with in his fucked up rollercoaster of a world. The Soldier vowed to stay the hell away from memories like that from now on. Anything was better than this.

He woke up the next morning lying on his stomach, clutching a pillow. He didn't know how long he'd spent crying, but it obviously hadn't been enough as he still had the extremely empty feeling inside of him. For once, Bucky found himself wishing he was the Winter Soldier again.

-X-X-X-X-

Every possible lead that Steve and Sam followed on Bucky came up dry. He was damn good at covering his tracks. "You know, at some point you're gonna have to let the man be." Sam knew it was a hard truth to tell and he was sure that it was even harder to hear, but it needed saying.

"I can't do that." Steve said where he stood with his hands in his pockets staring out at the bay. They were standing on the harbour, overlooking the ship yard. It was the last place that Bucky had been spotted by what remained of the SHIELD agents who remained loyal to Fury. By now it had become evident that Bucky knew he was being followed. He let himself be seen and then he slipped away and vanished into thin air. Steve was at his wits-end. All he wanted to do was help, to make sure that Buck was safe, to pay him back for all the years that he spent protecting Steve.

"I know man. I'm just saying." Sam stated looking down at his feet.

"I just don't know what he's running from." Steve admitted, sounding more than a little distant.

Bucky watched them from a safe distance. He was standing with his back against a wall, just listening, trying to ascertain why Captain America… Steve was so intent on finding him. A part of him, a big part, believed that the man who called himself a friend could be trusted, but he was hesitant none the less. Besides trust, he didn't know if he could face people yet, especially not people who knew more about him than he did.

Part of his training and programming had taught him the very best places to hide where in plain sight and he realized that he actually fit into a crowd pretty well when he meant to. He was wearing a baseball cap and a hoody again, the place was crawling with SHIELD agents a while ago, but now they had dispersed, believing that he was long gone. Leaving only Steve and the other man, Sam, here.

Bucky had realized that Sam seemed to be a friend, and he had a feeling that he could trust Sam too if need be, still he remained in the shadows, watching and listening. Every time Steve showed up to find Bucky without result seemed to hit the man harder and Bucky was beginning to feel guilty about drawing him out like this only to leave him disappointed, but he had to be sure.

He rubbed his burning and tired eyes. Truth be told; he hadn't slept in far too long. He realized that he could deal with dreams of being tortured and torturing other people, but he could not cope with the longing and the utter despair that came hand in hand with dreams of Amaryne, not the little girl, but the woman the name had led him to. He had since put two and two together and came to the conclusion that even if she was not a figment of his imagination; she was long dead by now. He'd recently begun to remember more details about her. And every so often Steve was in some of those flashes of broken memory as well, but not as he is now; as a scrawny little kid. This is what threw Bucky off the most. Was this just how his mind chose to remember the man? Did he really look like that? What the hell had happened to him? It all seemed a little too suspicious.

He sighed as he pushed himself away from the wall and slowly began to make his way back to the motel, back to another tormented sleepless night.

Bucky was not wrong in believing that this would be another sleepless night. It started like it always did, flashes that made his head spin and his body shake, then he takes a scalding hot shower in hopes that the steam would cloud his mind enough to blank out the images. This wouldn't change anything. Then he would lie down and try to sleep, only to be awoken, not in the initial fit of fear anymore; but silently with an empty throbbing feeling in his soul.

His dreams weren't feverish and rushed so much anymore, unless they were about his conditioning. When he dreamt about her they were quiet and subtle. The way she said his name; not Bucky, but James. The way she sat in his lap, facing him, with her arms around his neck, promising him that she'd always be there when he gets back, no matter how far he goes or what he does, she will always be there. He dreams how she laughed at him when he asked her to marry him and how she sat awake on the porch the whole night reading by candle light. These things he remembers, vividly and less fragmented.

Tonight it starts with a new memory. This time Steve was there, walking in front of him, telling him about this girl he has to meet who's just like him. He remembers thinking this was preposterous. It occurred to him that Steve had talked about her before, but he called her something different, Lou? Was it? Something like that.

She was younger then; still a school girl. Steve greeted her first, she called him Rogers as if it was a title. Then he introduced Bucky, she crinkled her nose and giggled, "What kind of a name is Bucky?" she snorted. Steve protested at her forwardness, but Bucky found it strangely inviting. "Lucky for you I have a few to choose from." He heard himself say. "The name is James Buchanan Barnes, Lou." He added, placing the same amusement behind her name as she had done to his. The grin faded from her delicate face and was replaced with an earnest, and shy smile. She was biting the sleeve of her jersey like a naughty schoolboy. "Amaryne Louise Hale." She said softly, extending the other hand to him.

Before he was allowed to see any more of that memory it warped about and changed into her standing in front of him reaching that hand up to rest on his cheek. She was older now, and wearing the ring he had given her. Amaryne had a sad smile on her face and a slight glint in her eyes. This time she wore a uniform, something medical.

Her dark mass of hair was tied up behind her head. "I'll bring him back in one piece, Lou, I promise." He heard Steve's voice behind him. "Shut up Rogers," She insisted absent mindedly as she smirked at Bucky. "Just don't let the star spangled moron get himself killed out there, will ya Bee?" She whispered at him. He snorted. "Lord knows I'm not hauling his lifeless ass all the way back to base if he does." He hears himself answer. She laughs, then and puts her arms around him. He smothers himself into her embrace and whispers into her neck; "Don't do anything stupid until I get back." She hugs him tighter. "How could I, since you're taking all the stupid with you." That's all they say, it's all they need to say. They've done this before. As he turns and catches a glimpse of Steve in his classic Captain America outfit he cannot help but feel as though this was the last time he will ever see her…

At that his eyes snap open and he is faced with nothing but cold and heartbreak once again. This time he does not cry, he has no more tears left to spill. He just lies there in silence, clinging to the memory of what HYDRA had truly taken from him. As the sun rose in the distance, hours later, Bucky made a choice; the only way he was going to get answers about her was from the closest thing he had left to her: from Steve Rogers. Memories he could avoid, but he had no control over his dreams, so he had no choice but to face the cold, hard reality.

-X-X-X-X-

The next time that Steve's phone rang and he saw Natasha's name on the screen, he sighed, this was another Bucky lead and he wasn't sure he could take another dead end just yet, but he took it anyway. He owed the man that much at least.

This time he'd been seen in a flea market in the centre of town. One would think that finding an ex-soldier with a metal arm in a crowd full of ordinary people would be easy… This time Steve made a calculated choice to request that all SHIELD agents leave the scene as soon as he got there. After some searching he was just beginning to lose face when something caught his eye. He saw the back of someone walking away from him in quite a hurry. His right hand was stuffed into his pants pocket but there was a definite glint in the sun. And his hair was almost shoulder-length and dark. Steve immediately set off after him.

He kept the man in his sight as he struggled through the crowd of buzzling people. His heart was pounding in his chest. Just as he was about to catch up the man suddenly stopped and took his hand out his pocket to greet another man. The hand was not metal. And as he turned towards Steve it became clear that this was indeed not Bucky. Steve felt his hope sink to his shoes. He was suddenly no longer aware of the crowd around him, so he rubbed his eyes and shook his head feebly.

"All this time following me and you're gonna give up that easily, punk?" The voice sent a sudden bolt of lightning through Steve's body. The fact that it came from a man sitting on the railing not two feet away from him did not help this situation. Steve noticed him now for the first time. He was wearing a pair of well-fitting jeans, the tell-tale, suddenly rather obvious Winter Soldier boots and a black RVCA hoody. He reached up with his metal hand in plain sight and removed the hood from his head. His long hair was slighting tussled, but smoothed back, still vaguely wet from having been washed not so long ago. Steve took a shaky breath and took a step closer. Bucky straightened himself up in a half defensive, half cautious way that told Steve to give him his space. He still looked scruffy and was sporting some stubble, but at least he looked like he was taking care of himself.

Bucky realized that Steve probably didn't know what to say to him at that point, so he continued. "I… I need to talk to you." This seemed to pull the Captain out of his stupor. "Sure. Anything you need." He said blankly. Bucky scooted himself off the railing and beckoned for Steve to follow him. He knew that even though he couldn't see Sam that the other man was probably not far from here, but for the moment he didn't seem to mind. "I've been remembering stuff." He stated blankly. An ocean of emotion was cascading around inside of him, but he found it impossible to put any of that emotion behind his words. Maybe that was a good thing though. "Like what?" Steve asked cautiously. He was obviously weary of scaring him away again.

"Can we go somewhere?" Bucky suddenly asked, out of the blue, catching even himself off guard. "I thought I'd do this in public, but I don't think that's a good idea anymore…" His voice trailed off.

"Sure man. Whatever you need." Steve assured him, he sounded relieved at the suggestion as well. "My place?" He added hesitantly. Bucky nodded. It probably wasn't the best idea strategically, but he knew he could fight his way out of just about any situation if push came to shove. Yet, all of a sudden at being face to face with Steve he felt a lot less uncertain about whether he could trust the man. He found himself wanting to trust him.

Once in Steve's apartment – not the floor in Stark Tower, but the apartment he had kept as a haven away from SHIELD – Bucky seemed to relax a little more. Steve did not fail to notice how his friend's eyes darted about the place, subconsciously identifying escape routes and possible weapons, and corners to avoid. Steve offered him coffee, which he was grateful to accept, maybe it would calm him down if he needed to relax, thus far he seemed to be doing alright though.

He sat silently at the kitchen counter as Steve made the coffee. It was only when he took the coffee from Steve that he sighed and looked up at the anxious blond man on the other side of the counter. "You used to be smaller." Bucky said vacantly. Steve nodded. "I was part of an experiment to create a super soldier. Guess they succeeded…" Steve explained. Bucky found himself understanding that 'they' referred to the military, or something like that, and the story seemed familiar, so he accepted it.

"And we were friends, right?" Steve nodded, he was visibly disappointed at the question, but he wasn't about to back down now. Whatever Bucky needed he would give to him without hesitation. Bucky picked up the coffee cup with his metal hand, automatically. When he breathed in the rich aroma, expecting it to be deeply soothing as it had been in the past he was, instead met by the same empty feeling he had been trying to avoid.

He put it back down without taking a sip. "She could kill a man with coffee." He said softly as he stared into the distance, deeply saddened by the sudden intrusion of the words that came from his lips so automatically that he only realized he'd said them out loud after they were already there. Steve seemed frozen to the spot. His face was composed but his eyes gave away the sudden turmoil the statement had delved him into. So it wasn't just me, Bucky thought to himself. "So she was real?" He whispered the question more than asked it. Steve nodded as he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "Yeah, she was real."

"How long, how long were we… together?" Bucky croaked out, his voice felt like it was going away, shrinking back into the darker corners of his mind.

"Seven years almost to the day. You dated for two years and you were engaged for five." Steve answered.

Steve was more than a little shocked when a tear spilled from his friend's eye. He expected Bucky to be more guarded than this, but he was grateful and relieved that there was still a degree of humanity left in him. "I've been trying to piece everything together. Trying to remember what she was like, but everything is so… broken. It's in a million pieces and I don't know where to start to put it back together. But I remember… I remember the feeling. The way I felt with her. And now it's gone and it's just empty. I keep thinking that I left her like that. I walked away and I didn't come back. I left her alone in this god forsaken fucking world! I left her alone to go on without me and now she's gone… She's gone." He couldn't stop the words from coming and even though he knew that the pain in his chest was unbearable it did not allow him to cry outright.

"She wouldn't have had it any other way, Buck." He looked questioningly at Steve. Had the man lost his mind? "You two, you had a way… A type of silent agreement. You both wanted the best out of life, you wanted to go far and fast. I honestly never heard her complain about your military career, not ever. She was never anything but encouraging and supportive. And you were the same with her and her medical career. She started as a nurse and ended as a surgeon. I told her that I wished you hadn't gone out with me that day, after you… after you fell. She said that I was being unreasonable. Quality of life over quantity, she said. 'I'd rather he die doing what he believes in and what he loves than giving it all up for a long life that means less to him, and by god he'd have done the same for me.' Those were her exact words, I'll never forget it." Steve explained.

This new knowledge seemed to warm him a little as he recognized the familiarity of the concept. He began to drink his coffee then, but he was still deeply sad. "How did she die?" He asked after a few moments of much needed silence.

Steve stiffened slightly at the question. He had dreaded it since the beginning of this conversation. In truth he had only learned the answer himself recently. He hadn't really dared to ask after he woke up, but the report was in the files that Natasha had released to the world.

"After you fell she was granted special permission from the president to become a field medic. She was stationed close to where we had been initially. There was an air strike… No survivors. That was when she was 26. She died doing what she loved too." It killed him to tell Bucky this, especially now, but he would not deny him the truth.

That was it. After that Bucky turned the conversation towards his history with Steve. He was open to a degree of what he remembered about his friend, but never alluded into anything that was done to him either by Zola when he was initially captured, or by HYDRA during the Winter Soldier programme. After about 2 hours of reminiscing and some stringent clarification on timelines and such Bucky left, with the promise of not disappearing again, on the condition that Steve keep SHIELD well and truly away from him, at least for the time being.

That night Bucky dreamt of her death, and nothing else…

-X-X-X-X-

In the weeks that followed Steve and Bucky met up a few times to touch base. They started to become more comfortable in each other's presence again and thus more of Bucky's memory of their friendship began to return. Steve helped him piece together some of the fragments of the earlier days. Despite all the progress Steve knew that Bucky was making he was frustrated by the fact that he never spoke of anything that was done to him. Whenever Steve would bring it up, or try and turn the conversation in that direction Bucky would close up or simply say he'd have to leave. Maybe all he needed was time.

They did not speak of Amaryne again. Steve didn't dare bring her up, but he also didn't fail to notice when Bucky stopped talking in a specific direction because he was getting close to a part where she was involved.

Steve kept up his end of the bargain and kept SHIELD away from Bucky, he at least held a bit of sway over what was left of the organization. Bucky eventually decided he wanted to meet Sam as Steve kept talking about him. The meeting went better than expected and Bucky soon decided that Sam wasn't so dodgy after all.

It wasn't long before Steve and Sam were called for another mission, however. This time, at least it was one close to home and not all that risky.

It's not every day that Captain America gets called out for a hostage situation in a coffee shop, but as soon as he got there it was obvious why he had been called. A group of rebels had held up the family of a foreign delegate in LA and they were packing some serious fire power. The negotiations went well up until a point when the perps became frustrated with the negotiator and decided to cut communications. Now no one had any idea what was going on inside the building and the situation was becoming desperate. Just as the negotiator was speaking to Nick Fury about bringing SHIELD agents or maybe even Captain America and Falcon into the situation all hell broke loose. Suddenly a bomb went off in the crowd of people who had gathered behind the police blockade. People scattered everywhere and the urgency of the situation became fragmented between the hostage situation and the dozens of injured people behind the barricade. Chaos ensued.

Captain America and Falcon were sent into the coffee shop to extract the hostages by force while Hawkeye and Black Widow went to assist with the injured civilians. Where most people had scattered, others had remained to help where they can in a show of true patriotism and camaraderie. In all the chaos some gunshots rang out from the coffee shop a few yards away and before Natasha had fully realized what was going on Clint collapsed next to her, clutching at his bleeding chest.

From what she could tell in her state of panic he seemed to have taken a bullet to the chest which collapsed his lung. In all the haze of blood and chaos there was little Natasha could do for him except send for help, which she was not sure would make it back in time. At some point in the madness Steve appeared next to her and assured her that help was on its way. The area, however, was as yet not exactly safe for civilians.

"We have to move him!" Natasha insisted. "He's going to die if we don't get him to safety!"

"If we move him now he's gonna die anyway! And safety is a hell of a long way off Natasha." Steve answered firmly, it was a bad situation.

All the while as they were arguing over Clint who was by now turning blue from being unable to breathe properly from his collapsed lung, they were unaware of the fact that they were being watched. The figure shifted slowly from where it sat, hands wrapped tightly around a man's bleeding throat. As the man drew his last staggering breath the hands slowly relinquished its hold as the figure made a decision that would, once again, change the course of the rest of its life. But hey, a change was well overdue… The figure made its way over to the scene, clutching a go-bag full of medical supplies.

"Move!" She said shoving Natasha aside. In a split second, almost too fast even for Steve to react, the woman who just came out of nowhere slammed her fist down on Clint's chest as if she was hitting him. Just as Natasha drew her gun on the unnamed woman Clint took a gasping breath that sounded a hell of a lot better than his previous attempts. When Natasha looked down at him she noticed that the woman had actually slammed a needle into his chest, which in turn inflated the collapsed lung. Her precision was flawless, as always. Natasha looked back at the woman with a shocked, but utterly relieved look on her face screaming unspoken gratitude; she knelt down next to the fallen agent who was now regaining his composure and his colour.

Steve stood there frozen to his spot, staring blankly at the woman who so suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like a memory from a dream. She did not meet his gaze at first, instead she looked down at her patient. She then knelt down and began to check him for any other injuries. Once she was satisfied she stood back up again with a sigh before finally meeting the Captain's baffled gaze.

"You know anabolic steroids are bad for you, right?" She asked him, the tease in her voice was as strong as ever, but the glint in her eyes told him that she was just reaffirming his unbelievable suspicion.

"Louise?" He breathed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Rogers? Only my grandmother calls me that." She scoffed.

-X-X-X-X-

Fury slid the file across the steel table at her where she sat, one arm around the back of the chair at a strange angle, her black hair still tied up wildly behind her head. Her clothes were covered in blood, but most of the blood on her hands and her face and neck had been washed off. She reached out and opened the file to the first page, her delicate features completely expressionless.

"Doctor Adelaide Kane." Fury said, annoyance playing at his usually composed voice. She looked up at him from below her sharp eyebrows. "Or should I call you Adeline Bowman? Lots of connotations to make from that one. Or Lina Hoitte? Or, what was that one from Louisianna? That was my favourite; Anna-Louise Buchanan." He paused. "Or should I use the name your mother gave you? Amaryne Louise Hale?" The name hung like a heavy smog in the room, threatening to choke the inhabitants at any moment.

"You could always revert to the one you are actually interested in. What was it again, remind me Rogers? Oh yeah! Louis Atelier Hale." She stated sarcastically, eliciting a disapproving shake of the head from Steve.

"Wait a minute!" Banner protested from where he stood, minding his own business up until then. "Louis Hale as in the doctor Louis A. Hale who designed Steve's serum?"

Amy scowled at Bruce. "It's not Steve's serum, its Dr. Esken's serum, he pitched the idea. And yes, Louis Atelier Hale was a pseudonym that my chauvinistic colleagues used for me to hide the fact that a woman happened to be the one who patented their precious super jizz." The sarcasm she was capable of was legendary and so was her sharp tongue and her disregard for social standards. Steve found himself glad that this hadn't changed.

"What I'm more interested in, Doctor Hale, is why you are still here?" Fury pressed, taking Banner out of the equation before the doctor lost his cool.

Amy scoffed. "Because Germans are assholes and Americans have their heads up their asses."

"Listen sister, if you're gonna play this game with me you better know what you're doing." Fury said as he placed his hands on the table in front of her. Steve didn't like that, he didn't like it all, but she didn't seem to flinch. On the contrary, she leaned forward. "You arrogant little snot. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders? Rogers over here might have spent the last 70 years as a star spangled ice crystal, but I've been around. I've seen and done a hell of a lot more than you have, and I sure as shit know a lot more about the world than you do. So I'd check my tone if I were you." She all but sneered. This made Fury do a bit of a double take. He was not expecting this level of animosity from another one of America's great heroes. "I'm trying to help you." Fury said cautiously. "Then stop threatening me." She gave back.

"Before we can do anything we're going to need some collateral information from you." Natasha explained, deciding that she'd seen enough cock fighting for one day. "Even with access to all your aliases there is still very little known about you. We need to know what you've been doing, what you were involved in, who might be following you. And we need information on the serum and its side effects, you two aren't the only ones it's been used on and there have been some… complications." Natasha hesitated. "At the end of the day we just want to make sure that your hands are clean and that we aren't in danger in our contact with you."

"Natasha, I like you. Don't lie to me." She looked at Steve who averted his eyes quickly. "You have all of that information already. You want two things from me; firstly, you want me fix the fuck-up doctor Banner over here inflicted on himself, secondly, you probably want me to hand over whatever other juicy projects I've been working on, most likely you will try to do this either by recruiting me or by forcing me, both of which are going to prove to be excessively difficult. But the real reason why I'm here, and the real reason why you're all so… twitchy, is because you're hiding something from me." She let that hang in the air for a moment. "I will help Banner, no problem, although I'm quite sure he won't like what I have to say to him. And I will let you in on my projects on a few simple terms, I honestly have nothing to hide. If the world wants to use my work to screw itself over, then by all means. As for what you're hiding from me; I couldn't care less. There isn't a god damn thing in the world you can hold over me that's even gonna make a dent."

"What are your terms?" Fury asked.

"Sit." She gestured to Fury, who obeyed her reluctantly.

"It depends what you want, exactly."

"What have you got?" Fury asked. She smiled.

"I will never have any official involvement with SHIELD. The first time you or any of yours try to recruit me is the last you hear from me." Fury nodded. "And you and yours stay the hell out of my involvement with Russia. It has nothing to do with you."

"Russia!?" Fury protested. "What in the hell…" She interrupted him. "What did I just say!?" This left him silent, albeit more than a little annoyed. "Anything else?" He added.

"No press. The world, at least for the time being, can remain well and truly in the dark about my existence."

"Of course" Fury assured her.

"There are things that I will not give to you. Things I will mention, but not relinquish. There are some things that the human race just doesn't need to know. And that includes things that you might think would change the world for the better, but trust me; the consequences outweigh the gain by way more than a little." She could see the frustration in his eyes, but she was adamant. "The rest we will deal with as we go along." She added.

"And if we want to know more about you?" Natasha asked.

"Read a book." Amy answered as she leaned back in her chair and put a foot on the table.

-X-X-X-X-

As much as Steve wanted to spill it all to Amy right then and there he couldn't find a way to do it. And he knew that it would be better to tell Bucky first. He hated lying to her, but he found he had little choice. He stayed behind as everyone left one by one. Once everyone had cleared out Amy let her guard down a little, letting her head fall back and sighing to herself. She was doing that a lot lately. He followed her out to the terrace to get some air.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Lou." He smiled at her.

She snorted, feigning indignation at the use of her second name, but by now she knew better than to try and argue with him about it. "I suppose a familiar face is a sight for sore eyes after everything." She said as she leaned forward onto the railing. He came to stand next to her with his back to the railing and his arms crossed across his chest.

"Yeah. It was one hell of a wake-up call." Steve agreed. "Although, I'm not sure which is worse; waking up after 70 years unchanged or living for 70 years unchanged."

She breathed a laugh. "It's not so bad."

"How are you though, really?" Steve asked.

She looked out over the city with a quizzical look on her face. "Bored. I'm bored Steve."

"That's not what I meant."

She smirked. "Of course not." Then she looked at him and shook her head before reaching up and letting her hair down. The mass of black silk wisped about in the gentle wind making it look as if she was under water. "I'm alright. I mean, it sucked at first, after you went missing. I didn't see much reason to stay in the states. Nothing was keeping me here. So Howard helped me get out of dodge. I took the airstrike as an opportunity and split. I lived one hell of a life though." She looked him up and down where he stood frozen to the spot, staring into the distance. "And you? You seem sad, or worried. I can never tell which one it is with you." She pressed.

He raised an eyebrow in slight concern before clearing his throat. "I'm worried." He stated.

"About whatever it is they're hiding from me?" She ventured.

He nodded in affirmation.

"Don't suppose you'll tell me what it is then?" She inquired.

He looked at her "I can't. Not yet. I need to… There's something I need to do first." He found that he had a lump in his throat now.

She sighed, and then turned back to him. "Whatever it is Rogers, you know I'll be alright. Survival is what I do, and no matter the repercussions I will thrive again. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded, rubbing tears from his eyes. He did know that she was okay and that she probably would be. It was not in her nature to be defeated by fate. But he wasn't sure the effect it would have on Bucky or what seeing him like this would do to her.

They spent the rest of the night catching up on the last 70 years that Steve missed.

-X-X-X-X-

Amy had agreed to stay in Stark Tower while Steve left the next day. While she was there she figured she might as well entertain the new Stark model she was dealing with, seeing as she was always fond of Howard, maybe his son was worth befriending too.

Steve, on the other hand, was trying desperately to formulate the best possible way to tell Bucky that Amy was alive. A large part of him was excited to tell him, but the other half worried that it might be too much for him to deal with.

None the less, Steve called him the moment he got back to his apartment; it didn't take Bucky long to get there. He seemed more relaxed than Steve had seen him for a while. At first this reassured Steve that he could tell him, but at the same time he didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You're tense as fuck." Bucky commented as he watched Steve stare out the window. "How was the mission?" He asked suspiciously.

He'd had a good night sleep for once and hadn't had a flashback yet today so the day had been pretty good until now. "Fine. We… uh… there was a hostage situation in LA. But it all turned out alright. Clint got shot, but he's okay now." Steve stammered.

"Right." Bucky commented. "The fuck are you tiptoeing over then?"

The statement was so classically Bucky that Steve half did a double take. This was beginning to be too much for him to handle as well.

"I'm gonna tell you something. Okay? But, you gotta promise me that you're not gonna lose it." Steve said quickly, as if he was afraid he was going to lose his nerve halfway through the sentence. Bucky lifted an eyebrow.

"What did I do?" He asked.

Steve frowned in utter shock. "What? No! You didn't do anything. I just… we… I mean, just promise me you won't lose it, okay? Pace yourself, breathe, process before you freak out."

None of this was doing anything for Bucky's suspicion.

"And don't just jump up and split, either. We need to clear up how we're gonna do this so it doesn't end badly." Steve added.

"Okay… I guess." Bucky said hesitantly. By now his mind was buzzing both with worry and anticipation. Steve seemed well and truly shaken by whatever had transpired since the last time Bucky had seen him.

Steve took a deep breath and sat down on the couch next to Bucky. "When we were in LA there was a bomb that went off in the crowd of people that had gathered to view the hostage situation, so a lot of people got hurt and it was absolute chaos. And then Clint got shot and his lung collapsed. At first we thought he was gonna die because we couldn't get him to a medic in time, but there was this woman who just came out of nowhere and stuck a needle in his chest, inflating his lung, as if it was nothing. I swear to you man, I couldn't believe my fucking eyes, and I still can't quite wrap my head around it… But it's her. It's Amaryne. She's not dead; she just used the airstrike to fake her own death…"

Bucky just sat there unmoving, his quizzical expression unchanging as if he was still waiting for Steve to tell him what was going on. Slowly he turned his face away from Steve's expectant and nervous gaze. He sighed heavily and ran his right hand through his hair. "And you believe it's really her?" He asked softly.

Steve was taken aback by his calm demeanour. "Yeah. I wouldn't tell you any of this unless I was 100% sure. It's her alright."

Bucky nodded as he folded his hands in front of his face, the contrast of skin to metal seeming oddly natural in the dim light.

"She doesn't know about you though. I wanted to tell you first. Fury doesn't want to tell her at all. He's afraid it will distract her from helping him out with whatever he has in mind for her, probably something to do with Doctor Banner's condition. And, to be honest, I wasn't sure what you would want to do…" His voice trailed off towards the end.

"Is she happy?" The question was barely audible, but unmistakable. There was absolutely no doubt in Steve's mind that this was all Bucky, 100%.

"That's not the point Buck. She's okay and yeah I would say she's happy, but don't think for one second that she wouldn't want to know that you're alive." Steve insisted.

Bucky scowled at him and huffed bitterly. "The thing is though, that I'm not me anymore. This, whatever the hell it is, is not who I used to be. I'm less now than I've ever been and I don't think I could ever get back to where I was before! I can't go back to her like this, she's not gonna walk away, and god knows she deserves better." He said angrily.

Steve looked at him uncomprehendingly. He suddenly stood and started pacing as Steve stared at him. "So you want to keep her in the dark?" He finally asked.

Bucky stopped his pacing. "I don't know." He admitted. "I just don't want to trap her. But I…" He swallowed hard and then added with little more than a whisper; "I don't know if I can live without her." He admitted.

"Trust me, Buck. Not even you could trap her. And it's not like you need to march over there right now and confront her. Take your time." Steve let the statement hang there for a while before adding; "All I'm saying is that the only ring on her is the one you gave her. It's hanging on a chain around her neck, along with a pair of dog tags. And I would bet my left leg that those are yours too."

-X-X-X-X-

For the next two days Bucky was in a daze. He didn't know up from down and instead of having flashbacks he had nothing. His mind seemed empty. He didn't want to cry, or scream, or laugh, or sleep, or anything. He felt like he was falling and there was nothing that was going to catch him. As he was lying on the bed one night, metal hand behind his head and the other one resting on his chest he tried to remember that last time he saw her.

It wasn't a significant goodbye, he remembered that much, on the contrary, it was the same as most of them had been. There was no promise of return, or advice to stay safe. She'd told him to watch out for Steve, just to mess with the Captain, and then they parted with a hug like always, and that was it. It seemed so menial. But it made him wonder about something else.

Steve had spoken about a 'silent agreement' maybe it wasn't silent? Maybe they just never spoke to him about it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what he could remember about before he'd gone to war, the nights she had spent sitting on the porch, those early days before they'd known much about death and everything else the world had to offer. What made him enlist in the first place? Pearl Harbour. That was it. He enlisted after the Pearl Harbour bombing, she was already in university, he thought.

But how did she react when he enlisted? What did she say?

"You're being ridiculous." The words came suddenly and unexpectedly, like one of his flashbacks, but this time he didn't shy away from it or try to fight it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"Why would I freak out about that?" She asked as she switched the kettle on.

"Because it's the army, babe. I'll go to war." He explained, almost flustered.

"No shit." She stated.

He groaned. "Would you rather sit on your ass here and wait for me to finish med-school? Work in your father's garage for the rest of your life?" She asked.

"No." He said flatly.

"Then enlist, Jamie. Do what you want. Don't ever hold back on your life for my sake. Please." She said earnestly.

"What kind of girl are you?" He asked with a ridiculous smirk on his face.

"The rational kind." She smiled back before kissing the smile on his face.

The memory faded into a later memory. This time they were in the city, there was noise outside the window and she was chopping something in the kitchen. He sat at the table, watching her and sipping coffee.

"I'm shipping out next week." He said, staring into the mug.

"Where?" She asked, distracted by her chopping.

"Germany." He answered expectantly. She put whatever she was chopping into a pan.

"That's frontline, isn't it?" She asked as she dug into a cupboard next to the stove, pulling out another pan.

"Yup." He answered.

"What did Steve say about that?" She asked, running water into the pan.

"I haven't told him yet." He admitted.

"I can't imagine he will take it well." She said, raising her eyebrows.

"Me neither." Bucky agreed, still waiting for something from her. "Babe." He said.

"Hmm?" She hummed in response, when she was in this cooking zone of hers it took a hell of a lot to break her concentration.

"What if I don't come back?" He asked frankly.

She looked down at him then, putting down what she was fussing with.

"James, what is this about?" She asked, now coming to sit next to him at the table.

"I'm just saying, Rain. I don't plan on dying, but this is war, babe. There is a chance I might not come back."

She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and laced the fingers of her right hand with his left which was lying on the table.

"You could walk out this door tomorrow morning and a truck could hit you. Or you could have an aneurism we don't know about and drop dead right here, right now. Or you could be just fine and live a long life and we would get married and grow old together and you would spend the rest of your life wondering. Wondering what more you could have done. Or you can ship out next week and do what you believe in. You could fight for something you believe in, live your life to the fullest, be the best possible version of yourself. And yes, you might die out there. And if you die it will hurt, like hell, for a long time, but it would be exactly as it was meant to be. I don't want to force you to go, but I don't want to be the reason for you not going either. If you want to stay, then stay, but do it for yourself. In the end, I will be okay. I have my own dreams to chase down. No matter what, I promise you that if something happens out there and you don't come back, I will be okay. I'll find a way to be okay. You've done so much for me. You've put up with all the cold nights and the long hours and all my babbling about medical crap and all my fights with the APA and University, it's your turn now. I'm in a good place, I've done more than I ever thought possible and it's a great feeling. I want you to have that same feeling, without having to worry about me." She reached up with the other hand and cupped his cheek. "I will be here when you get back. I'll always be here. No matter what. I'm not going anywhere. And in the end I will see you again. One way or another, when the time is right and you are ready, I'll be here. Okay?"

He reached out to her and pulled her into his lap and hugged her tight in an embrace that felt like it was supposed to last forever.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He whispered into her ear as he kissed her temple.

"I have no idea. But whatever it was, it must have been god-awful" She quipped.

He couldn't help but laugh.

For the first time in decades Bucky woke up without a start and without any fear or uncertainty. He hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep, but now it was dark out. His mind was clear and he was at peace. He knew what he was supposed to do. He'd never been more certain about anything else in his life, and that was saying a lot.

-X-X-X-X-

Steve was not surprised to find Amaryne in a lab with Tony Stark, messing with some his gadgets, 80's rock blaring in the background and empty beer bottles everywhere. She used to do the same thing with Howard.

"Elvis." Tony said, pointing a piece of metal at her. She was dressed in a long sleeve black see-through jersey, of sort, with only a bra underneath, which didn't shock the Captain all that much, and a pair of torn jean shorts, barefoot, as usual.

She laughed at Tony as took a swig of beer. "Bad kisser." She stated.

Tony made a face and threw his arms up. "Figures. Who else? Oh I know! James Dean!"

"Fucking high. All. The. Time. I didn't even bother."

"What? No! Come on!" Tony protested. "Fine. What about Frank Sinatra?"

"Not her type." Steve interjected.

Tony moved his sunglasses down his nose and judged the Captain over the rim of the shades, disapprovingly. Then he turned back to Amy. "Steve Rogers?" He asked pointing at Steve.

"Fuck no!" Amy protested vehemently. "Scrawny little bastard from Brooklyn who didn't know how to pick a fight? No thank you."

Steve had to laugh at that idea. He had most definitely not been her type. Although, come to think of it, neither was Bucky. Amy had two types; arrogant rich bastards, kind of like Tony, or road hardened bikers her father's age.

"No Stark, she liked them either old, or rich." Steve said, just to annoy Tony.

"And Sergeant Barnes was which of the two?" Tony asked, now looking at her over his shades.

Steve's heart leapt to his throat.

"No, no, no. That's not how it works Tony. The only way you can ever be sure that someone is absolutely right for you is if you can't understand why you love them. 'Cause if you can explain to me why you love someone, then it's not real. Anything you pinpoint as a reason can be taken away. So you love the idea of them. There's a difference." She stated with an unimpeded smile on her face.

Tony said nothing to that, he just huffed. "What do you want Capcicle? We're having a very important business meeting."

Amy burst out laughing at that and reached over to high-five Tony.

"Nice! Nice. I like that." She said as she took the last swig of beer.

"Discussing her little black book is considered an important business meeting now?" Steve asked amused.

"Of course, Rogers. All is fair in love and war." Amy insisted draping an arm around his shoulders. "What did I tell you about taking life so seriously?" She asked.

"I need to talk to you." He said, ignoring her question. He knew the answer all too well, but now was not the time to be messing around.

She turned to look at Tony and shook her head contemptuously.

"Of course you do." She said as she slapped Steve on the back and padded over to the terrace again.

He followed her, bidding Tony farewell.

"Have you heard of the Winter Soldier?" Steve asked once they were out in the open air and out of earshot of Tony.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "That shit again? Of course I've heard of the Winter Soldier. One of HYDRA's failed experiments, that. I mean, the concept was flawless, in and of itself, but he changed hands too many times. And HYDRA stuffed up the original concept to hell and gone anyway."

"How so?" She seemed to know a lot more about it than Steve thought she would, which concerned him.

"Well, firstly, they took some dude who was half dead already and decided to start the programme on him. You can't exactly cognitively recalibrate someone with amnesia. It fucks things up because they don't always know how to pick up on operant cues. And he was one of the 107th, so Zola had his hands on him first and lord alone knows what that oil stain of a Swiss did to him. And to top it all off the Germans started the process wrong to begin with. You don't go straight into wiping the slate. You have to build a foundation first. But of course, once HYDRA fell and the Russians got their hands on the project things started to go better. They used the reinforcement methods I designed for their training programmes. That worked out pretty well, it all started to come together, despite the toss up start. But then, of course, Chekov decides to contract a serious case of shit-for-brains and hands the project over to your friend Pierce, for no apparent reason. Too much rain and snow, if you'd ask me. But anyway. Pierce fucked up the entire situation. He had no clue what he was doing. The reinforcements started to fail almost immediately so he started wiping every 3 weeks which damaged the neural networks, so his reflexes and training would fail. The only thing Pierce could do to prevent that was to stick him in Cryo for extended periods of time, hence the name. But that's a dumbass idea, 'cause eventually intrusion starts to happen, and when you have intrusion you have doubt and doubt calls for a loose cannon. And that's one hell of a loose cannon."

Steve didn't follow exactly what she was talking about. She always had a tendency to let her technical jargon run wild when she was passionate about something.

"So you helped create him?" He asked for clarification, hoping beyond hope that his inference was wrong.

"Not exactly. I just consulted on it. The Russians valued my input on their training regimes. Both for voluntary and involuntary service. So you could say that the greater part of his maintenance came from me, indirectly, but I didn't actually have anything to do with his programming. They just used the methods I designed to try and compensate for the mistakes made by HYDRA." She explained.

Steve stared at her for a few moments. He was slightly taken aback by just how much she knew about this. It pissed him off that she knew so much but did nothing to… Wait, now he wasn't too sure that she truly didn't know who she was talking about. What if she does know who she is talking about?

"You knew he was from the 107th and you still helped the Russians fuck with his mind?" Steve snapped. He didn't necessarily mean to snap, but he wasn't happy about this. Not in the slightest.

"There were 400 men in the 107th, I had a personal connection with one of them 15 years prior to when the Russians asked for my input on the Winter Soldier. And James was dead, according to you, so I didn't have all that much to worry about." She said sternly. Her tone was not lost on the Captain. He looked away, suddenly ashamed at his anger towards her. She was right, she had no reason to doubt that this was just another number in a file.

Amy had, to date, not attempted to hide the fact that she had been involved in less than savoury acts during her time in Russia. It was part of the reason she was such an exceptional medical mind. Amy had spent a long time before the war explaining the various ethical issues associated with modern medicine to Steve, he understood the fine line and he trusted that she did what she did for the greater good. But it was horrific none the less.

"What's the problem, Rogers?" She asked.

He said nothing, rather, he turned away from her. This really was beyond him.

"Who is the Winter Soldier, Rogers? What interest do you have in him?" She asked again, not moving from her spot.

Still he said nothing. He was trying to formulate a way to break it to her without shattering the thin ice he had just walked out on. Sure, Bucky had said that it was better she knew about him, after two days of Steve not hearing from him at all, but now the prospect of telling her wasn't exactly a happy occasion anymore.

"Does he have something to do with you're trying to hide from me?" Damn she was good… Steve nodded once, turning back to her, his heart was trying to climb out his throat.

"So are you going to tell me what's so great about him that he has to be hidden? What, is his programming failing? Do you want me to reinforce it? Is he working for Fury now? What the fuck is so terrible about this?" She pressed. These were questions Steve felt he could answer, at the very least.

"He's not working for Fury. I'm keeping SHIELD the hell away from him. And no, I don't want you to reinforce his programming. Yes it is failing… And I've done what I can. But you… He needs you. Maybe he doesn't realize just how much, and maybe he didn't come here himself because he didn't want… because he didn't want you to feel pressured into getting involved." This was honestly the best Steve could do at this point. He just couldn't bring himself to say it to her outright. Not now, not like this.

Amy stared at him blankly. Her face betrayed nothing about what was going on inside of her, this made Steve even more nervous.

"What's he to me then?" She finally asked. Her tone was unchanged from the previous statement. Steve was defeated. She was too hesitant to believe him to make this inference on her own, and he didn't blame her.

"Damnit Lou, do you really want me to say it?" He begged haplessly as she stared at him coldly.

"Yes Steve. Whatever it is, just say it." She chose her words wisely as the memory came flooding back to him. That was exactly the statement from her that had drawn a confession of his death from Steve all those years ago. And here they were again, in a sick twist of fate.

"It's Bucky. The Winter Soldier is Bucky. I was wrong. Obviously whatever Zola did to him made him survive the fall." The statement hung in the air between them like poisonous gas.

"And you expect me to believe this?" She said coldly.

"Would I lie about this?!" He demanded in retort.

"Well you sure as shit lied about something! Either he's dead or he's not. Which one is it?" She snapped.

"He's alive, okay. He's alive. I spoke to him 6 hours ago. He tried to kill me on a bridge a few months ago and almost succeeded. He's alive. Long hair, metal arm, same blue eyes. What more do you want from me? I was wrong…"

"I trusted you." Amy whispered, now obviously fighting tears. The statement hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. She didn't wait for a response. She just stormed past him and staggered out the door. He thought it best not to follow her. They both needed time to process right now.

-X-X-X-X-

"She didn't take it well, did she?" Bucky asked as he watched Steve pace up and down in the living room.

"At first she didn't believe me. But now she's pissed. She said she trusted me and that I'd lied. God knows I don't blame her. But I don't know where she went. She stormed off. I'm kind of worried about her." Steve admitted. He knew that her words had been said in anger, but it was unlike her to react so brashly, even in anger.

"I think I might know where the find her." Bucky said as he made his way to the door. He seemed strangely calm about the whole thing. Steve decided not to question it.

And just like that Steve Rogers was left alone with his thoughts as two sides of the same coin set out to find itself again.

-X-X-X-X-

Bucky let his instinct lead him. He hadn't done that in a while since he wasn't always sure he could trust his instincts, some of it might still be programming, either way, at this point he would even turn to his programming to find her. Maybe the last 70 years of his life wouldn't be so wasted. He was surprised and a little concerned that he wasn't nervous. All he knew was that he was worried about her. He needed to find her and make sure she was okay. And find her he did, much to his own surprise. Even after telling Steve that he might know where she was, he was going completely on his gut, so he didn't dare to believe that she would actually be there… Sitting on the pier railing staring out over the ocean. Her long black hair was loose and whipping in the ocean breeze and her feet were still bare, but that was nothing new. He approached her slowly, but with a calculated degree of determination. Stopping a few feet from her he just looked at her for a moment. His entire world was calm, eerily so.

"It's not his fault." He said softly. Maybe not the most romantic thing to say to his fiancé who'd believed him dead for the past 70 years, but it was the issue at hand, the designated mission…

"I know." She whispered, barely audible, but his enhanced hearing made it easy for him to hear. Then she added. "I shouldn't have done that to him." This time with a little more volume.

"It's not your fault either." He offered. This made her look at him. He noted that she hadn't been crying, which in his mind was a good thing. She smiled sadly. "I'm trying to know that."

He stepped closer to her now as she swung her legs back over his side of the railing and pushed herself to her feet so she was standing in front of him. One would think that there would be a lot of years and a lot of questions between them, but in that moment there was nothing… Nothing at all. Amy reached up and ran her fingers through his long hair, pulling it away from his face, then she smiled. He smiled back at her, the same certainty he'd had last night was back. This is exactly as it should be.

"I didn't think you'd still be here." He said softly.

"You idiot. I said I'd be here when you get back. Didn't I?" This time there were tears running down her cheeks, but he knew these were not bad tears. He enveloped her in his arms. Vaguely wondering if the metal arm would bother her, but when she buried her face in his right shoulder without a second thought he stopped worrying. They stayed that way for a good long while, before deciding that they should probably go back and make sure the Captain hadn't climbed out of his skin yet.