AN: Just an idea I had floating around. Lost a bit of my must for my other story, got really busy, but I had this idea. Anyone reading Project Lazarus—I will be continuing it, I promise, but enjoy this in the mean time? It's a completely different story, and a completely different take on his recovery.

And, to any newcomers, WELCOME! I hope anyone reading this enjoys it! Remember to drop a review!

Prologue

Three weeks. Three weeks she had been out of the hospital and she had spent every waking second tracking him down. She was furious; how dare he, after everything she and Daisy had done for him—how dare he leave? She was terrified; she knew they had Daisy, and she had no idea where to find them.

Tracking him down wasn't all that hard; no wonder Hydra had found him so easily. She was just a 24-year-old veterinarian with a computer, maybe slightly above average intelligence. She knew he would have gone to find Steve—Captain America, that is. That, or the Captain would have found him. Turns out, America's Greatest Hero had a bit of a fan club and whatever he did was plastered all over the internet. It didn't take her long to find the crazy fans who know his routine, including his morning run, should anyone want to bombard him and, like, bottle his sweat or whatever they intended to do.

That definitely wasn't her plan.

It was early—ungodly early, she thought to herself, which she suspected to be his counter move to the online stalking. It would be more difficult for the teenage girls and guys to track him down at this hour without parents getting in the way.

She was walking the track, waiting. He would be here any minute. There were only a couple of other people around; the sun wasn't even up yet. She breathed deeply and wiped her hands on her sweat pants. She wouldn't be running much; she was barely out of the hospital, after all, and after the beating she had taken running was something she wanted to avoid as much as she could. So she walked, trying to look casual, feeling obvious, looking around until, sure enough, she spotted him.

She wasn't sure why he bothered with the disguise; a beanie, and a hooded sweatshirt over that, hiding his face. But there was no mistaking him—he was tall, broad, he even ran like a superhero. She didn't have to look twice to know it was him, and he was running toward her, which made things just a little easier.

This is it, Pet, she told herself, bracing. She didn't have much of a plan. She watched him sprint closer, realizing that at the speed he was going she wouldn't be able to get a word in before he blew past her. He was sprinting closer, closer still, and her mind seemed to stutter and she did the only thing she could think to do: she threw herself in front of him, waving her good arm wildly, shouting.

"Hey! Stop!"

He tried to stop, to his credit, but he still hit her like a freight train. She yelped. That definitely hadn't felt good on her fractured rib, and even though he caught her, she still doubled over with a whimper and tears in her eyes, nearly going to her knees.

"Ma'am," he was saying, "are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, but no, she wasn't, not at all. She looked up and found herself staring into the biggest, bluest eyes she had ever seen. She cleared her throat and prayed to anyone who was listening that this would work. "Captain Rogers," she said, and she wasn't sure what to call him but that seemed to fit. His eyes flattened a little, his mouth drawing into a thin line, and he looked almost annoyed. She realized she probably wasn't the first crazy woman to throw herself in front of him. She straightened up, grimacing.

"If you're alright," he was saying, edging away, but she stepped quickly in front of him. Now, he definitely looked annoyed. She couldn't blame him.

"Wait," she said.

"What is it?" he asked. She could hear it in his voice; he was trying to sound cool, calm, friendly but distant. He just sounded strained.

"Look," she said, "I'm not stalking you, I just—" but he barked out a laugh.

"If I had a nickel—"

"Where's Barnes?" she demanded, getting right to the point, and his face stilled. He stared at her, the humorless laughter gone from his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said darkly, straightening up to his full height.

"You're a liar," she said. "You're a liar and I know it. Where is he?"

He glanced around quickly; he looked angry, now. She looked around, too, and when she saw that no one was paying attention she looked back up at him. She yelped, but he covered her mouth with one hand as he seized her and backed her against a tree, hiding them both from prying eyes. He slammed her back none too gently against the trunk and tears leapt to her eyes again. All the breath was gone from her lungs and she wheezed. It hadn't been a hard hit by any means, but oh, she was sore.

"What the—"

He kept one hand on her shoulder, the one that had been dislocated, but he couldn't have known that. He held her with just enough pressure to keep her in place.

"Who are you?" She hadn't ever seen Captain America as frightening before. But the skin on his nose wrinkled when he was angry, those blue eyes frightening, flat and dark. She swallowed; her voice caught in her throat. "Who sent you?"

"I'm flattered," she mumbled. "But I sent me. I need to see him. Have you found him?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Or did he find you? Last he told me he was going to find you, but—"

"Who are you?"

He wasn't messing around. The pressure on her shoulder increased and a tear actually escaped her eye.

"I need to see him," she gasped, and it came out like a plea. "Please."

"Stay away from me," he snarled. "Tell whoever sent you, whatever newspaper—"

"No one sent me," she insisted. "I know him."

"You don't know him. You can't know him."

"James Buchanan Barnes—"

"Congratulations, you passed middle school history," he said flatly. Who know he had a snarky side?

"Call him," she begged. "Please call him. They—they took my sister—"

"Who—"

"Hydra took her and they took her because of him!" She was shouting now, and shoved his arm away from her. "She helped him and he left her! I need him to get her back!" She sounded frantic, even to her own ears. "Call him," she demanded. "He'll tell you. Call him!"

"I'm not going to—"

She was desperate. She needed to prove it, somehow. "They attacked us," she babbled, on the verge of tears. "He was staying with us—my sister brought him home, she was trying to help him, and they came after us, and he left and I woke up in the hospital and they took her and I need his help, please just call him, please—she's only seven and—and—"

He was looking at her face now, brow furrowed, taking in the bruises and cuts. Exasperated, she reached for a phone and did a quick Google search on herself. She thrust it at him. Anonymous 911 call leads police to a grizzly find: 24-year-old Petunia Ortiz found tortured and unconscious in her home; 7-year-old sister, Daisy, missing. There is still no word on a suspect or a motive for the heinous crime…

She knew there was a picture of her, and of her missing sister.

"This—this doesn't prove anything," the Captain said, and she rolled her eyes.

"I know he's here," she said. "I know he's with you—he wasn't doing so well, he was having a hard time remembering anything but he was thinking about finding you or—or I think he said letting you find him—"

The Captain's face stilled a little and he swallowed. This wasn't working, she thought. She had to say something, think of something that would convince him, but—

It hit her. It was the whole reason they had found him in the first place.

"Wait," she said, her eyes widening. "He—on the back of his neck, right under his skull, he has a scar, right? A recent one." She watched the Captain's face. She could tell he was thinking. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe he didn't even know about the scar. "He—I did that to him," she said. "He had a tracking device and we—we were surprised, because we thought the tracker would have been in the vibranium arm, but it wasn't, it was in his neck, and so I dug it out for him—"

The Captain's eyes were very still, calculating. If he knew about the scar, she thought, there would be no denying it. The scar was new, fresh—no one would know it was there. She watched his face carefully. "You know the spot, right? You saw it?"

He shook his head. Her heart sank, but he was clearly still thinking. Something else was going on.

"Who are you?"

"I'm not a threat," she said. "Search me, if you want. I don't have any weapons, no wires, I'm not working for anyone, I just—he fucked us over, Captain, and I need him to get my sister back. Please."

He stared at her, long and hard, and she couldn't do this much longer before she went to pieces, on her knees, begging him for help.

"Turn around," he ordered, and she obeyed, raising her arms as he patted her down thoroughly. She had no weapons, and when she turned around he was on his phone.

"Are you calling him?" she asked.

"No," he said sharply, but he raised his phone to his ear, never taking his eyes off of her as he spoke. "Hi—yeah, I know it's early, but it might be important. I need you to check someone out for me. Petunia Ortiz. Yes, now."

It was quiet for a moment and she held his gaze, staring him down as the silence lingered. Finally, the person on the other end spoke again and Steve, satisfied, thanked them and hung up. He raised an eyebrow.

"Drunk in public?"

"What? That was years ago, I—" He was shaking his head. "Please," she said, stepping forward. "Just call him. I'm not here to hurt anyone or reveal him, I just—my sister—" She was crying now, in spite of her efforts to contain it. She was shaking. His eyes scanned her face again and he shook his head slowly. He clutched his phone. His eyes were still angry, defensive, like he didn't quite believe her.

"If you're lying—"

"If I'm lying, I'm dead." She took a breath. "Send him to kill me. He's good at that sort of thing." Steve's eyes flashed. He tapped the screen on his phone and held it between them; it was on speaker. It rang and rang, and her nerves were fried.

"Don't speak," Steve warned her, and she sealed her lips. Finally, he answered; it stopped ringing but he didn't say anything.

"Hey," Steve said, and his voice was oddly gentle, soothing. "Question for you." He stared Pet down, licked his lips. "Do you happen to know a young woman named Petunia Ortiz?"

The silence seemed to go on and on. She was shaking. Her stomach was in knots. Finally, he spoke, the ragged, tired voice on the other end of the line familiar.

"I—" he paused. "What?"

"Petunia Ortiz."

There was another long silence. She wanted to scream.

"Is… She's not dead, is she?"

"Not exactly," Steve said. "So you know her?"

"Pet? Yeah, she, uh—yeah, I know Pet. What's going on?"

She looked from the phone to Steve, her fists clenching. She spoke; she couldn't contain it anymore.

"They took Daisy," she said, snatching the phone, and he let her have it.

"Pet?" he sounded shocked. Steve looked shocked.

"You left us," Pet said, her tone wavering, her voice betrayed. It was all coming back—the fear, the betrayal. "You left us with them."

"What did you want me to do?" he countered. "You sold me out."

"I—I risked my life for you," she snarled. "I lied for you, I risked everything for you and you left." Tears coursed down her cheeks. "She loved you, Barnes, she adored you. I let you in my home, I fed you and gave you a place to sleep and I was tortured for you—"

"Pet—"

"And how dare you assume I sold you out?"

"I heard—"

"You couldn't stick around long enough," she spit. "I lied. I lied, and they went looking for you and they came back when they figured out I lied and you weren't there. Where were you?" Her voice broke. Steve looked lost, but his face was a mix of shock and something like sympathy. He looked upset, confused. She couldn't go on. She covered her face with her hands and tossed the phone at Steve; he caught it and was speaking to Barnes.

"What is going on?"

"I'll explain," Barnes said. "Just—just bring her here. You can trust her."

He hung up. Steve looked at her as she struggled to compose herself, but she was nearly inconsolable. There was so much she needed to say to him—she wasn't anywhere near done yet. Steve, of course, was completely lost.

"I need an explanation," he said, as he grabbed her a little too roughly and guided her out of the park. She was very aware that he wasn't bothering to confuse her or keep her from figuring out the way to their home, and when she questioned it all he said was:

"Bucky trusts you."

Xxxxxxx

It was one of the strangest things Steve had seen. Bucky, who, as far as he knew, had no friends, no affiliates outside of Hydra; Bucky, who had been silent about his time between leaving Hydra and being found—or letting Steve find him, as he had said; Bucky, who spent most days silent, closed off, lost in his head, was standing, towering over the battered woman, and that woman was staring up at him with all of God's wrath behind her eyes.

Sam was clueless, but he sat back when Bucky informed them that he could handle it. So Steve watched the exchange tensely, head spinning. Bucky knew this woman. He didn't hardly speak to Sam or Steve, but here he was, letting this woman shout at him, nearly flinching at her words, fighting back. It was the most animated either of them had seen him.

"Pet—"

"She's gone," Pet was saying, "they took her. You said you wouldn't let them hurt her."

"I thought—"

"I wouldn't do that to you. Christ, Barnes. After everything—after what they did to you, you thought I'd hand you over to them?"

"Pet."

She shoved him. He looked distraught, and he must have been because he stumbled back as she shoved him, hard, in the chest. Then she shoved him again, and he let her. Steve remembered when he had found him, his arm caught up in a machine like he'd been trying to disconnect it from his body and had gotten trapped.

Help me, he had said.

"Alright, alright, enough," Sam said, standing. Pet looked at him, slumped against a wall. She kept favoring one shoulder, Steve noticed.

"Yeah," Steve said, flanking him. He looked at Bucky. "What in the hell is going on?"

AN: The story will be told, form here on out, mostly from Bucky's perspective. It'll be going back and filling us in on what led everyone to this point and then moving forward once we get to present day.

Review, please! :)