Hey there everyone, i know this isn't a big fandom for these crossovers. After watching Civil war i wanted to know how the hell Bucky got out of the USA without being spotted, i was always curious as to what would happen if Spencer met him while he was running, i feel like they could get along well enough. So here is what my brain came up with. i hope you enjoy it - let me know what you think.
A big thank you to Drownig_In_Beautiful_Tragedies who has volunteered her time to be my Beta (i have horrible grammar so it's not an easy job)
H xoxo
Title is Romanian for "Save My Friend"
Spencer Reid sighed to himself as he sat at the bar, his shoulders hunched and his scarf on tight to prevent anyone around him from seeing where the bullet had entered his neck. Since the events in Texas he had become increasingly self-conscious about the wound that was quite visible in his neck. So close to having killed him, yet miraculously he had survived. Still, he couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he had been smart enough to stay down lower when he had pulled Blake from the bullet path, they would both gotten away unharmed, she would still be with them and the case could have been done a lot earlier. He could have assisted the team rather than having to have Garcia rushing to keep him safe because he was unable to take care of himself.
Lost in his own mind, Spencer didn't feel the stranger silently sitting down on the only empty chair next to him at the bar. The others filled with people who were watching the room or talking to their friends. True, this wasn't Spencer's usual scene, it was a bit too dark and dodgy for his usual bar tastes, but he had needed to be alone. He'd taken some time off after the case to go to Vegas, needing time away from the team. Somehow, he had wound up in this bar, with cheap drinks and a haunting atmosphere. Spencer sighed as he moved in his chair, accidentally leaning too far to one side – his stool slipping out from under him, sending him toppling into the man whom had just sat down and was holding a beer on the bench. Later Spencer would admire how fast the man moved – suddenly an arm was around him, keeping him up and another had grabbed his chair. An effortless flick of the man's wrist had them both right again. Spencer flushed at the embarrassing display, about to apologise profusely when he saw the left sleeve of the man's long shirt rode up, showing a glinting metal arm that had been broadcasted all over the news only a month earlier. Looking up to the man's face, shocked, he could see the fear as the other had realised what Spencer had seen and was about to run.
"Wait, you don't have to run." He assured him, seeing the way he had balled up his muscles, preparing if he had to fight his way out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall on you. I'm not the most co-ordinated of people." He rushed out, trying to get the man to calm down. It was obvious from looking at him that the fear in his eyes was not that of the ruthless man who had been used by hydra to kill so many people. This man was terrified of his past and future. He was running to keep from getting caught and he could see the confusion in his whole body. Spencer Reid had read the information published by the Black Widow. He'd read how The World War Two soldier James Buchannan Barnes had been experimented on and brainwashed into The Winter Soldier. Sure, he'd had to decode it, but with a mind like Spencer's that hadn't taken long.
"Most people wouldn't apologise to me for that, or try to keep me here." The other man spoke, looking confused with Spencer as he obviously tried to read the man and work out why he wasn't as afraid as he would assume everyone would be. His exploits had been posted worldwide on news and in the information leaked. By now, most people would have run screaming asking for the Avengers to show up and take him into custody. His slowly returning memories were helping him to place who he was, what happened to him – yet, he still knew, that to everyone else, he was seen as a danger to the planet. He'd signed up for the war to help people. Instead, he'd fallen from a train on a cliff, and woken up to be experimented on and turned into his enemy's greatest weapon. "You know who I am? You're not afraid?" the sentence was barely a question – more of a statement but it helped Spencer relax. He could reply with facts. That's something he is good at.
"You're James Buchannan Barnes – also known as Bucky, Born March 10th 1917 in New York. You were a sergeant in World War II – part of 107th where you were part of a group taken as prisoners – you the only one experimented on at that time. You fought along with Captain America aka Steve Rogers as part of a specialised group to take down Hydra. You were pronounced KIA after an incident where you fell off a train and down a cliff. You were brainwashed and experiment on by Hydra who
replaced your arm. Since then you have worked as their top assassin, with no recollection of you time with you friends fighting for Shield in its infancy." He spoke, his voice hushed to prevent others overhearing them. He smiled shyly, realising that would be a bit weird to know about someone, yet he couldn't help his brain from reeling off the facts. "Sorry, I'm Spencer Reid – most just call me Reid. I have an eidetic memory so I remember everything I read, and I've read a lot about you and Steve Rogers. You were like fairy tales to me growing up – the Howling Commandos." He blushed brightly at the admission and ducked his head. Yet he could see in his peripheral as the other man relaxed slightly. "The way you are sitting, you obviously have no anger or apathy. You feel embarrassed and disappointed in what was done to you. Guilty for what you've done to people. Scared that it will come back to you, you're running because you know the world sees you as a threat and you don't know how to convince them you're not - because of everything you've done it would be hard to explain. When I saw your arm just now you were prepared to run or fight, you assumed I'd be afraid of you because of the news coverage over everything that happened in Shield. I'm not afraid of you, I feel saddened by what they did to you. You should have been a war hero – Captain America's best friend, taking down Hydra and helping to win the war. Yet your name is blemished by what they did to you. That's not your fault." He spoke with confidence in his skills to analyse the man, knowing he could profile him.
Bucky smiled softly, "Thanks. I guess I don't expect people to think of it that way." He said with a forlorn expression. "I don't need to introduce myself, being you already know my full bibliography." The comment made Reid flush and Bucky lighten slightly.
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you in Las Vegas, let alone this bar?" He questioned him – no one at the bar was paying attention to them, allowing them privacy to speak as Bucky had adjusted his sleeve to keep his arm covered and his head tipped slightly lower.
"I had to get as far away from New York as possible after what happened. Steve Rogers is going to be looking for me. I am leaving America, I just haven't decided where to go yet. Probably back to Europe, I just can't afford to catch a plane. I don't know how I plan to get there." He spoke lowly, disappointment thick in his voice. "I need to lay low, hopefully the search party will fade away but until then I can't be seen in too public of places." His voice was sad by the fact that he knew he was avoiding the attention of his best friend, having felt that he had betrayed and disappointed him – well he had tried to kill him. "What about you?" Finding this stranger who he was speaking to oddly comforting, he understood the Winter Soldier was someone he was forced to become, that he wasn't dangerous and he could see that he just wanted to be free.
Reid sighed quietly and pulled down the side of his scarf that showed the bullet entry wound. "I work for the FBI in Virginia as a profiler – we create profiles of offender characteristics and types to help the local law enforcement when there is a serial crime. We were on a case in Texas where I was shot in the neck trying to protect someone else in my team. She ended up resigning and it was because I reminded her of her son, who died when he was a child. I was born and raised in Vegas so I came back to visit my mom and have some time to think about what happened." He said as he readjusted his scarf to protect his neck and hide the wound from view. The string of resignation in his voice made the other man frown at the very obvious emotional turmoil Reid was going through. It made it rather obvious that this kid blamed himself and had obviously not had the easiest life. They should have plenty to talk about.
So that's what they did, sitting at a bar for hours they spoke, asking and answering questions. Telling each other stories. Whether it be about modern references that despite Reid's age he knew how to explain but was almost as clueless as Bucky in some aspects or the lifestyle of the early 1940's.
"I better get going, I'll probably need to find somewhere to spend the night." Bucky spoke up sometime later, the smile fading off his face as he thought about going on the run again. This scrawny kid, who reminded him so much of Steve - before the serum turned him into Captain America – headstrong, willing to fight for his friends (even if he wasn't all that good at it) and he cared very deeply. That much was obvious.
"You know, you don't have to run." He said as he bit his lip, he'd explained earlier about his mom in Bennington. "I still own my childhood house, the mortgage was pretty much already payed off by the time I was eighteen, you can stay there for a bit. Its private, has its own garden. You don't have to, but it would give you some time to relax and decide what you want to do next." He offered, "I'm heading back there now anyway. There is plenty of room." He spoke, he wanted to help. This man that had his life flipped upside down without even having the option to change it.
Bucky watched this kid, the way he was looking at him, his expression open and honest. He couldn't lie, this would be an amazing opportunity to rest a little, take in what had happened to him and recuperate. "If you don't mind, I would appreciate that." He spoke, pushing the empty beer away from him. "and call me James would you? I feel like I may have disappointed Steve too much for Bucky." He smiled as Reid stood as well and the duo made their way out to catch a cab.
Reid's hand shook slightly as he opened the door to his childhood home, a mixture of the alcohol in his body and the fact he was letting a stranger into his house, even if they had gotten to know each other over the last few hours and Spencer knew practically everything about him from the files. They were still relative strangers. On habit as he opened the door he let his ever present bag fall to the floor and turned on the light without ever reaching for the switch. Looking around to see his guest's reaction.
He sighed quietly to himself and hunched his shoulders in preparation for the strange looks. "Sorry, forgot to tell you that, it's habit. I have a mutant gene in me that allows me to control and manipulate energy around me – including electricity. I tend to stay away from it though." He spoke with a shake to his voice, he rarely told anyone about his ability, there weren't many mutants in the world and he knew it was rare for them to be known about.
He watched as James shrugged, "I have a metal arm, I can't judge you, kid." He spoke as he put the small backpack he carried with him down by Reid's own bag. He looked up to the scowl on Reid's face at the sentence. "are you okay?" he asked, unsure how to approach the fact that he had been invited into someone's home to stay, when the person knew he was an assassin and said person also worked for the government, some of which were trying to arrest him.
"Kid," he mumbled almost feeling the word on his tongue, "we look the same age, you know that right?" he asked with a cock of his head, "if anything you look 29 and I'm 32".
"yeah, I was in cryo-genesis. But I am 97 years old, technically." He spoke as he walked cautiously into the house. "you're less than a third of my age." He pointed out, with contemplation on his face, "Although good point, I won't call you kid." He reasoned, it was a point. He was biologically 29 years old when he was formed into the Winter Soldier and hadn't aged since, although he was born in 1917. He would forever be 29, so Reid, who was biologically and technically 32 - even if he didn't look much older than 21- would still appear his senior in public. Especially being the kid seemed to dislike the nickname, which probably meant he'd been called it before.
"It's fine, you can call me 'kid' if you want. It's just, I've always been the youngest. I graduated high school at 12 years old, youngest agent in the FBI ever. Everyone calls me kid, even though I'm not and I can handle myself." He pointed out with a sharp sigh, trying to bury his annoyance at the nickname that always seemed to haunt him – regardless of how old he got, or how much experience he gained.
"You seem to be really smart." James said as he walked over to the other man who seemed to be quickly becoming a good companion and the nicest human being he's met in a while – whom he hadn't had to kill. He watched the other man's face turn bright red at the comment and his shoulders hunch, something he saw was quite a common posture for the shy man.
"I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minute." He spoke with a practiced apathy that didn't go unnoticed by his new companion. "Come on, I'll show you the room you can stay in." he spoke and lead him through the house to the guest room. He never touched his mother's room, just because of the sentiment and he wanted to preserve the memories inside.
"um, thank you for this. I appreciate it." James spoke as he followed Reid through the house until they reach the room that Spencer opened up and he found one whole wall filled with books. Some that he even recognised from his own school years.
"Don't mention it, I know what it's like to be judged from somethings you've done. Even if it's the opposite spectrum to you." He smiled at the other man. "I'm off for another two weeks as part of my medical leave, so I can stay around if you'd like some company?" he asked as he let him wander the room. He could see the way that the other man was still surprised each time Reid showed his lack of fear regarding who he was. The fact that the man seemed willing to spend two weeks with him, had James reeling in the pure faith the man had in his ability to have read him originally.
"Company?" he mumbled absently, "that would be nice, especially if you don't try to kill me." He smirked to himself in a self-depreciating way. He moved over to a book he hadn't seen before, reaching up to pull it down as it caught his eye. "is this…" he trailed off as he noticed a book mark in the middle of the book and opened to the page. The bookmark caught his eye first, a young scrawny boy with chocolate brown hair curled up with a blonde woman, a book sitting on their lap as the both poured over it together. He moved the picture to the side and saw his own face looking up at him – or rather his military id picture. The same one that was in a museum in New York.
"That's a book about the Howling Commandos, yeah. It was my favourite as a child, a book about real heroes. That's me in the bookmark by the way, with my mom, before she got too bad that reading war books made her paranoid." He spoke as he approached the other man and looked down at the book. "Turn the page, it has a picture of your whole group." He spoke with a small smile, wanting to help the man remember how good his past had been, as it was obvious he was depressed currently. "Keep the book if you want." He offered, "I've read it that many times, I know it word by word." He reminded. He smiled to himself as he saw James flip the page and a ghost of a look passed over his face as he saw the picture of them all, geared up before the mission that would have become his last.
"Thank you." He said softly as he looked up at the other man with the first true smile in almost 70 years.
