If You Could See Me As I Am

by Firestar'sniece

When Steve leaves Bucky with Clint, Clint takes Bucky on a mission. On that mission, Bucky gets captured and sold to Hydra. Rumlow is summoned to pick him up. But when things go wrong and the transport is attacked, Bucky may have no choice but to team up with Rumlow in order to survive. Meanwhile, Steve and the gang are searching for Bucky and Clint is in major trouble with Steve.

1. Chapter 1: Mistake

I don't own Captain America.

Chapter One: Mistake

(Present)

If there was anything Bucky Barnes hated, it was people having doubts about his capabilities. But if there was anything Bucky Barnes hated more, it was people assuming that he had capabilities that he didn't.

Currently, Bucky was trapped in a small room behind a wooden desk, gunfire going over his head. He was in a black suit and tie, his pistol in his hand despite his ammo being used up. His metal arm was hidden behind gloves and his hair pulled back. One bluetooth was in his left ear, about ready to come off.

Panting, he waited for the gunfire to cease. "What's your position?!" Clint shouted into his ear via the earpiece.

Growling, Bucky covered his other ear, trying to concentrate over the gunfire on Clint's voice. "You should have given me more ammunition!" he shouted back.

"It shouldn't have been necessary!" was the retort.

"Dang it, Clint! I'm not a spy!"

Deciding he'd rather make a break for it than be cornered like an animal waiting to be slaughtered, Bucky charged out the room.

(A Few Hours Earlier)

"Do you have your medications laid out?"

"Yes."

"Do you have you timer set so that you can take them?"

"Yes!"

"Do you have my emergency number and the other emergency contacts just in case?"

Rolling his eyes and going red faced in embarrassment, Bucky folded his arm in defiance. "Yes!" he growled back.

Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend but unfortunately also his guardian and caretaker held up his hand appeasingly. He was in a black suit and red tie, getting ready to go on a date between "friends" with Ms. Romanoff. That was the plan anyways. Truth be told Bucky suspected that Natasha had feelings for Steve to, she just didn't want to admit it. Thus it was being called an "outing between friends".

Steve smiled lightly. "Just making sure, Buck."

"I'm not a little kid," Bucky groaned, looking at the carpet as he kicked at it. He was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve hoodie, t-shirt underneath that. His toes picked at the tufts of fluff the carpet produced as he refused to look Steve in the eyes, hands briefly ruffling through his long hair which he hadn't pulled back.

Instant compassion was on Steve's face. Because Bucky was emotionally unstable due to his trauma as the Winter Soldier, Bucky was required by the courts to have a legal guardian until such time as it was proven that he'd recovered 100% from the trauma, brainwashing, and torture (and everyone knew that he was never going to recover that far). It was the only way the courts would release him to the general public; it was either that or living in a mental institution for the rest of his life.

Bucky knew that Steve knew how hard it was on him, so he tried not to be too grouchy. It wasn't his fault that he was in this position, after all. But still, he was an adult and he really didn't want a legal guardian to care for him, even if it was his best friend. It was so unfair!

'But at least it's Steve and not some random person assigned to you who doesn't even know you,' his mind told him. He cringed slightly at the thought, causing Steve to step forward in concern as he continued to kick the ground. That had almost happened. Steve had had to appeal to the courts to let him be guardian. It was better for him, Steve had said. And everyone knew it was right. Bucky was most comfortable with Steve and was more likely to listen to him than anyone else.

"Hey," Steve lifted his chin up, forcing him to look at him. "It's just for a few hours. I'm not abandoning you."

"I know," Bucky sighed.

But Steve still seemed concerned at his expression. "You sure you want me to do this? I can always cancel. Natasha would understand."

At this, Bucky looked away, feeling guilty. "No, you go enjoy yourself."

"You know I would do anything for you, Buck. All you have to do is say." Which was also true, and they both knew it. Steve's highest priority was always Bucky.

"No, I'll be fine."

At that point, there was a knock on the door, and Steve crossed the moderate sized living room in the house Steve owned, complete with coffee table and all, and answered the door.

Bucky growled, listening to the conversations that ensued, irritable again. In walked Clint, dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt, a cheerful look on his face.

Steve turned to him again. "Bucky, you remember Clint, right? He's the one I told you would be staying here for you."

Bucky swiftly nodded and glared at Clint, not feeling too amiable towards him right now. Clint didn't even flinch, to his credit. He still had that friendly smile on his face. "My babysitter," Bucky growled.

At this, Clint looked uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly. "I prefer to think of it as two friends hanging out together while Steve and Natasha have fun."

Of course he did. "Still a babysitter," Bucky pointed out and a nervous silence was in the room. It was no secret that Bucky, by court order, was supposed to be monitered at all times and have someone with him at all times. In essence, if Steve left, he was supposed to have someone qualified and who could handle Bucky and look after him. Babysitting was the term Bucky used, but that was exactly what it was. And everyone knew Bucky didn't like it. It was just a reminder that Bucky still wasn't 100% free because the judges and American public didn't trust that he was emotionally stable yet. And they were right. Bucky didn't like being reminded of that fact, though.

Steve turned to Clint. "You have my phone number?"

"Yes," Clint rolled his eyes as Bucky said under his breath, "See? Babysitter."

"You have the other emergency contacts?"

"Yes."

"You know when Bucky takes his medicine?"

"Yes!"

"Sam's number is added in case he has a panic attack-"

"I have Sam's number, Steve! Go already!" One thing was for sure, Cap was thorough when it came to his best friend.

"One more thing: Bucky's bedtime is at 9:00. It's not an option."

Bucky froze and looked up, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. Add insult to injury, why don't you? It was a good thing Steve's back was to him so that he couldn't see Bucky's embarrassment, but Clint still noticed, causing him to blush further.

Clint rose an eyebrow at this as Steve straightened his tie, getting ready to go. "Bucky gets really cranky if he stays up late," Steve shrugged as he explained. Now Bucky wanted to hide and never show his face again.

His eyes were wide as Steve came over and hugged him one last time. "Take care," Steve whispered into his ear and only now could Bucky feel his anxiety.

"Don't be too long," Bucky whispered back, burying his face into Steve's chest for comfort, hoping Clint didn't hear their conversation.

And like that, Steve let go, walking backwards to the door. He waved one final time to Bucky before opening the door and leaving Bucky with Clint as he left.

An awkward silence ensued then berween the two assassins. "So," Clint broke the tension. "Do you want to play a game or something? I have cards to play Go Fish."

Bucky glared at Clint before stalking down the long hallway to his dark brown wood door on the far right and slamming it shut behind him.

(Some Time Later)

How long Bucky stayed in his room sulking, he didn't know. But, eventually, Clint must have thought that Bucky had had enough time to mope, so he knocked on the door.

"Go away!" Bucky shouted, not in a mood for his company. Sure, he knew Clint already, sure they had worked together in the "Civil War" against Tony Stark, but that didn't mean he liked Clint. He was never comfortable around the man like Steve was, even though Clint seemed perfectly at ease around him. Then again, he wasn't really comfortable around anyone apart from Steve, though he tolerated Sam because Sam counseled him. He trusted Sam to some extent, even if he was uncomfortable with him. That was more than he could say for the others. But he did not want a babysitter.

He'd never had to be babysat before. Steve had never left him until now. He'd always accompanied Steve to work and Steve had relegated himself to doing office work instead of going on missions so that he could stay behind and care for Bucky. It was a big sacrifice for him, Bucky knew that. He'd almost felt guilty for it, but Steve wouldn't let him feel guilty for it.

Bucky lay on his bed on top of his plush quilt, gift from Steve. His moderate sized bedroom was decorated with Howling Commando memorabilia in an effort to help him remember who he was better. Bucky knew his therapist had recommended it, but for once Bucky didn't seem to mind.

A poster of Steve when he was a "show girl" advertizing one of his many evening entertainment adventures on stage was featured prominently on the wall he was facing. To Steve's embarrassment, he had requested that poster. None the less, Steve had aquiesced and it was gift wrapped and on his bed the next day. Steve would do anything for Bucky, though he was still confused as to how he could have gotten it here so fast. Steve had mentioned something about overnight mail.

A table with an alarm clock was by the bed on the opposite side and on the wall facing the foot of the bed was a round, wooden writing desk, a whole bunch of therapy papers that Bucky didn't want Clint to see scattered around.

A knock sounded on the door again. Bucky promptly ignored it. "Bucky, why don't you come out? We can watch a movie." Growling, Bucky tossed the pillow over his head even though he knew it would do no good. "Come on, dinner is going to be soon. You're not allowed to skip. Super soldiers need lots of food."

"Go away, Clint!" Bucky ground out again. He closed his eyes and held his breath, trying not to think about the fact that he was trapped with a stranger, even if said stranger was a friend of Steve's. He didn't know him that well and he still wasn't sure if he could trust him.

"No," was the soft voice on the other side, and Bucky heard the door opening. Remembering his therapy papers on the desk, Bucky threw his pillow at Clint in an attempt to keep him out. He felt it was a violation of his personal space.

But Clint didn't seem fazed even though Bucky continued to glare at him. Pulling his knees to his chest and laying in fetal position, Bucky continued to level the most menacing look that he could at Clint. Instead, Clint came inside and sat right by him on the bed.

"I know something is on your mind," Clint began and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to deal with having a stranger in his room. It was just like Hydra, no privacy.

"Go away!" Bucky practically begged as he felt tears in his eyes and a flashback coming on.

"Please give me a chance!" Clint begged. "I just want to be friends! Don't you want another friend?"

"No!" Bucky put his arms over his head, trying to drive the flashback away. 'You should give us a chance,' a voice, he thinks Zola was saying. 'Maybe you'll like Hydra. Maybe you'll like the pain. You'll certainly get used to it.'

A scream was heard in the memory, and at that moment Bucky realized he was screaming in reality as well. Arms were holding him tight in an effort to comfort him, and Clint was saying something about flashbacks and calling Sam.

"No!" Bucky screamed, pulling out of Clint's arms who had held him against his chest as he screamed. He was slightly wide eyed, having come out of a minor flashback. Thankfully it was minor as most weren't. "I'm fine!" When Clint looked at him questioningly, Bucky reassured him, "I'm fine! Really, I am!"

After looking at him for a little bit longer and determining that there was nothing more he could do, Clint sighed and nodded. "Okay," he replied, still not sure, Bucky could tell. But he was going to let it go for now. "But I still want you to come out for dinner."

Sighing, and realizing he couldn't say no, Bucky nodded. He followed Clint out to the living room and then to the dining room, the food having been prepared by Steve before he left.

They sat down on the far ends of the table, opposite each other. Eyeing Clint as he started to eat after praying, Bucky did the same, testing it slightly first and waiting to make sure that Clint hadn't poisoned it. Just because Steve trusted him didn't mean Bucky was going to make the same mistake, even if he did see Clint when the rest of the Avengers got off missions. It was only brief contact, anyways. "Hard to believe that I once left the Avengers," he'd heard Clint say one time.

Clint chuckled. "Steve's a good cook," he tried to start a conversation. Bucky only glared at him as he slowly ate. He chewed on the drumstick more, an eye on Clint the whole time. Clint raised an eyebrow at this. "What, you think I would poison you or try to hurt you while Cap's gone?"

'Yes, yes I do,' Bucky thought.

"You do realize that Steve would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch?"

'Doesn't mean you won't try to kill me. Or your trying to get information out of me and Steve to use against us.'

Clint sighed. "Is dinner going to be completely silent with you glaring at me the whole time?"

'Absolutely.'

They continued dinner for some time like this, Clint talking and trying to get Bucky used to his presence, Bucky watching him carefully and untrusting. Despite this, Clint kept up the one sided conversation. He began telling Bucky about missions that weren't classified, and Bucky listened reluctantly and warily. By the time dinner was done, they'd made no progress in forming a friendship and Bucky was as wary as ever.

"You do realize," Clint pointed out as he got up and began taking the dishes to the sink. "That things will be really awkward if you continue to be silent all the time? That's not a good way to have a conversation with people."

"Maybe I don't want a conversation," Bucky growled and Clint turned to him in surprise that he'd talked, towel in hand as he cleaned the dishes.

"There's progress," Clint pointed the towel at him. "Your stating your likes and dislikes. Don't ever let anyone tell you not to."

Bucky tilted his head. Hydra had never let him have an opinion. No one but Steve and Sam, it seemed, had ever let him have an opinion. "You don't... mind?" Bucky ventured carefully for fear that he had gone too far.

Clint shook his head. "Conversations are vital to functioning. Knowing basic things about yourself are vital to functioning." The man turned back to the dishes as Bucky considered this. Clint didn't seem to mind his opinion. Maybe it was because he was trying to get information out of him to harm him. But then, why did Steve seem to trust him?

"Can I ask questions?" Bucky dared. After all, if Clint was trying to gather information on him, he may as well gather infirmation on Clint. Clint nodded like it wasn't a problem. But what should he ask? What kind of information would he need to harm Clint should Clint try to harm him?

Carefully, Bucky selected a question that showed some of his concerns and yet he was sure wouldn't give away his intentions. Though you could never be sure. "How can I be sure that you're not trying to harm Steve and I?"

Clint chuckled some and Bucky stepped back some in fear. "Kid, if I wanted to harm you, I would have harned you and Steve already. I've had plenty of opportunities to harm you and Steve if I wanted to."

Feeling cornered, Bucky narrowed his eyes as he backed up slightly. "I can take you on," he warned the man but Clint shook his head.

"Look, what I'm saying is that I don't want to harm you. Some people are just nice, all right? Like Cap is to you. Not everyone is Hydra. Not everyone is going to brainwash you or use you. Some of us just want to be friends, but your not ready to let more people in your life, or your heart. And considering what you've been through, that's understandable. Some people need to take more time than others."

Nice, it was a concept that the Winter Soldier had trouble understanding. But he considered it. But one thing didn't make sense. "Why do you want to be my friend?" Bucky asked. "I've killed people."

"Haven't we all?" Clint answered darkly. Then his expression softened. "Everyone needs friends. That's why."

Silence reigned between them once more and Clint got back to the dishes. Finally, Bucky got the courage to ask as he watched Clint scrub a pot, "I still don't understand."

Clint stopped and looked at Bucky carefully. He tilted his head and considerd. "Then let me ask you a question," he finally replied. Instantly, Bucky was on guard and Clint held up a hand with brush scrubber in it to appease him. Putting it down, he asked, "Why do you trust Captain America when you don't trust anyone else?" A shocked expression covered Bucky's face and he looked away. Clint observed him for a moment. "It's because he's familiar, isn't he? Despite everything you went through, he's the one familiar and friendly face that you recognize after getting your memory back. You don't really know where else to turn. You know from experience that you can trust him."

Bucky said nothing, but he knew Clint was right. "Did you know that some people don't have that?" Clint's voice was heard. "You're very lucky."

"I know," Bucky whispered.

"But don't you see? No one else is going to be familiar to you. You need to expand your horizons and friendships. Why not start with the friends Steve has? We've already proven ourselves to Steve. Trust me, he won't let you near anyone who he knows will harm you. And he's been trying to let you near us, hasn't he?"

"And what if he shouldn't trust you?"

Clint shrugged, turning back to the dishes. "You'll never know unless you try."

"Is it even worth it to try?" Bucky murmured to himself, but he knew that Clint heard.

"Like I said," was the reply. "Nice. Some people just want to help. Not everyone is out to get you or hurt you."

Bucky scoffed and walked away, leaving Clint to do the dishes.

Upon returning to his room, Bucky curled up on the bed again. He missed Steve. He wished Steve would come home soon. He didn't like staying in the house with someone who was a complete stranger to him.

Speaking of the man...

Clint knocked on the door and Bucky tossed the pillow over his head. Why did Clint have to bother him so much?

"Hey, Bucky, can I come in?" Clint called out to him. Bucky snorted. Now he asked? Clint didn't ask earlier. What's the difference?

"No!" Bucky shouted. He didn't want to be bothered.

A sigh was heard on the other end. "I want to talk to you," Clint tried again and now Bucky was growling. Seriously? He just said no! "Bucky!" Clint pestered more. "Please let me in!" There was a long silence. "I'm gonna come in, okay?"

Bucky threw the pillow at Clint as he opened the door, but once again Clint didn't seem fazed. In fact he acted as if it had never happened. "I said no!" Bucky shouted and Clint held up his hands appeasingly.

"I just want to talk," Clint tried to say.

"I don't want to hear it," Bucky retorted. He folded his arms and glared menacingly at Clint. There was a brief stare off before Clint sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Listen, kid," Clint began only for Bucky to grumble, "Not a kid!"

"And I couldn't agree more!" Clint replied causing Bucky to tilt his head curiously. "Which is why I was thinking. I know that your frustrated that your not allowed to do more and that you can't get a job. I also know that you need an opportunity to develop bonds so that you can start friendships. You don't trust me, but I've had something on my mind on how to get you to trust Steve's friends."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "And that would be?"

Clint paused before announcing suddenly, "I want you to go on a mission with me."

As his eyes widened in shock and then a wary expression donned his face, Bucky shook his head. Was he really asking this? Legally, he wasn't supposed to. He would get in trouble if he did. He was declared by the courts to be too mentally unstable to go on any mission with the Avengers or any military. And what did Clint want him for, to kill someone?

Defiance covered his face as he stared Clint down. "What do you want from me?" he demanded harshly, untrusting. "I don't kill anymore."

"I never said anything about killing," Clint replied, which puzzled Bucky. What else could he be wanted for? That was all he was skilled in. "And what better way to bond with people than to be in a situation where your forced to trust people?"

Bucky looked away while replying, "Steve will kill you if he finds out."

"Not if he never finds out," Clint retorted. "You can keep a secret, right?"

"You'll get me in a lot of trouble," Bucky pointed out. "Especially legally."

"So we don't let anyone find out. Besides, I've been planning this mission all week ever since I recieved a request from Steve to spend some time with you." 'Aka babysit,' Bucky thought. "Besides," Clint continued. "Don't you want out of this house?"

A sigh escaped Bucky as he considered what Clint told him. It was rather boring just staying here and doing nothing with Clint. But did he trust him? After all, he was asking him to do something that Steve would never approve of. And he was asking him to keep it from Steve. That made him suspicious.

"Why me?" Bucky asked. "And who else knows about this mission?"

"Uh, no one," Clint admitted. He scratched the back of his head warily. "In fact, we technically didn't have enough proof, so there's nothing that the Avengers can officially do about it. Nick didn't want us to interfere. He said that could make us look bad."

"But you disagree," Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Clint nodded. "This guy needs to be stopped before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."

This statement more than any struck Bucky. He pondered briefly on how he had been a captive of Hydra, hurt and brainwashed by them. He was kept amnesic and confused as to his identity. Only now that he was remembering did he know that he had begged them many times to know his identity only to be put in the horrid chair again. He had many times wished before he'd lost his mind and memory that someone would come save him. Could there be others in his position?

This, more than anything else made up his mind for him, even if he had to kill someone. He was not going to let anyone suffer like he had.

Clint seemed to have known that he'd won. It was so obvious by the expression on Bucky's face. "So you'll come with me?" he tried to confirm even though he already knew the answer.

Bucky turned to Clint. "Who do you want me to kill?"

Clint chuckled. "Like I said, this isn't a killing mission."

Puzzlement clouded Bucky's face. "Then how could I possibly be of use to you?"

Clint remained silent.

(A Few Minutes Later)

Bucky paced around the house as he waited for Clint to come back from his car. Agitation settled deep inside of him. He didn't know if he was making a mistake or not, but he knew that Steve would be very mad if he found out that they were going behind his back like this. Though truth be told, he might be more mad at Clint who was supposed to be watching Bucky. Steve had a thing where he did not want to put Bucky in harm's way. He obssessed over that after getting him back from the almost Civil War. That was the last time he let Bucky fight after nearly loosing Bucky.

Finally, the door opened, and Bucky tensed only to see that it was Clint. A couple of garment bags were draped over his arm as he whistled a tune like nothing was wrong. Curiosity entered Bucky, and Clint tossed one of the garment bags to Bucky who promptly caught it. "Get changed," Clint instructed and after glancing once more at Clint he headed to his bedroom while Clint headed to the bathroom in the hall. "And remember," Clint called out. "This is not official Avengers activity." Bucky rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him.

Opening up the bag, Bucky gasped as he saw a tuxedo. It was made of the finest materials and had the impression of being made for the rich. But it only confused him further. First of all, where did Clint get the money for this? Second of all, he had assumed it would be tactical gear or something for combat like he had seen the Black Widow wearing when she and the others came off missions. Why would he be put in something like this? It didn't seem very safe for a mission and it didn't make him feel very safe going on a mission in something like this.

Despite his concern and confusion he stripped and put on the tuxedo and tie. Some black rubber bands were supplied and he put up his hair in a little pony tail.

The suit felt soft and fluid against his body. It was very supple and he was immediately comfortable in it despite the fact that he was uncomfortable with his circumstances. It moved everywhere he went, unlike the stiff combat suits he had been provided by Hydra that weren't very comfortable. He wouldn't have been surprised, and in fact he suspected, that the suit was made of silk.

It was also delicate and not so sturdy, less so than the casual wear that Steve had provided for him. He was afraid of the suit ripping, though it never seemed to. It was also much better fitted than the off the rack clothes that Steve bought for him and Bucky to wear. Having been used to, for many years, of having his clothes provided for him by Hydra, that had been an adjustment for him, upon leaving said organization, to get used to having clothing that didn't fit him so well. Even though his combat suits had been sturdy, they had been made specifically for him and his measurements. But by the time Steve had met up with him, he was used to not so fitting well clothing, so adjusting to what Steve gave him hadn't been an issue.

This suit, though, he could tell, had been made for him specifically, like the Hydra gear. That made him suspicious, first of all, where did they even get his measurements? He was much different in size and proportion than he had been in his Hydra days. Second of all, as Clint had to have commissioned this, this would have cost a lot of money. How did Clint pull it off?

Shuddering, but knowing that his mind was already made up to go with Clint, he stepped out of his room to find Clint waiting. Folding his arms, he demanded to know, "Where did you get this? How did you get my measurements?"

"What, you expected me to get you something off the rack for this mission?" Clint's innocent looking eyes were wide, and he seemed to to exaggerate his movements. "You have to be able to blend in."

Bucky was tired of Clint beating around the bush with him. He glared more and Clint finally relented. "It's a rich social function we're going to. You can't just wear anything off the rack, people will notice. You have to be able to blend in."

A sigh escaped Bucky and he realized that this was all he was getting for now. He was frustrated, but until Clint was ready to give him more information, there was nothing he could do,

But the next question from Clint threw him off. "How's your flirting coming along?" Clint asked Barnes and Bucky stared at him in shock and puzzlement.

"W-why do you ask?" Bucky stammered. It seemed like an absurd question to him. Then again, nothing about this mission or situation was like anything he'd done before, whether it was his days as a Howling Commando which memories were still unclear and fuzzy but at least there, or his days as a Hydra assassin which were terrifying and he was glad they were fuzzy and unfocused.

Clint cracked a smile at this. "What? I just figured since you remembered some that you'd remember how you were a ladies' man back in the day. At least that's what we're told."

A deep blush covered Bucky's face. "I'm not him!" he snapped and Clint shrugged, folding his arms as well.

"Well seriously, I've got to know."

"Why?" Bucky demanded getting uncomfortable with Clint's unusual requests. It was not like any interaction he had had with anyone, and it seemed a bit too personal for his liking. He shifted uncomfortably as Clint examined him, desperate to have a change of subject and yet not knowing how to ask.

"Because it's going to come in real handy, Bucky. This is espionage."

"Espionage!" Bucky's eyes widened almost in panic and his arms hung limpy at his side.

Clint chuckled some. "Yes, espionage. Like James Bond spy genres-"

"I know what espionage is," Bucky snapped. "And I'm an assassin, not a spy!"

Clint shrugged. "Where I come from, it's one and the same. If your a spy, you're also an assassin."

"Well I'm not!" Bucky panicked, his eyes widening in fear. Hydra had only been concerned with turning him into a stealthy killer. They'd cared less to use him for gathing information by interacting with people because he would have had to have autonomy for that. Hydra was concerned that giving him any autonomy would have made him turn on them and break the brainwashing and they were probably right.

"Relax," Clint came forward and tried to placate him. "I'll teach you how." But Bucky wasn't sure how he could seeing as he struggled with even the most basic of social functions. How was he supposed to teach him, let alone in a few hours time? "I just thought that perhaps your flirting would come back naturally to you. That was what I was hoping for, anyways."

Bucky tried to ignore Clint as Clint led him to the car and they began to drive away. It was a dark blue sports car he was driving. While they were driving, Clint gave him a bluetooth and a pair of dress gloves. "I've got a quinjet waiting to take us out of country. Then we're going to catch a limousine," Clint explained. Bucky nodded stiffly, nervous that he was going outside of country without permission.

As the road sped by smoothly, Clint gave him a quick smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Bucky shook his head.

(Present)

A scream tore through Bucky as several rounds pierced his body. The agents were hidden in the hallway and Bucky didn't even have any bullets to fire.

"Bucky!" Clint shouted in the earpiece.

Growling and ignoring the bullets piercing him, Bucky launched himself at his nearest attacker, a woman, and threw her into the wall, knocking her out. He picked up her gun and was about to fire at the man in a tux in front of him with a short black pistol fully cocked when he felt something strike him and hit him in the neck.

With a gasp of shock, Bucky pulled out a dart as his eyes began to close. 'No!' was all he could think as unconsciousness hit him.

How much time passed, he didn't know. But it couldn't have been that long because of his metabolism. At least he hoped not. But when he finally came to, he was strapped down by metal to a steel vibranium chair. Surprise coursed through him as he pulled and pulled. Despite this, even with the strength of his metal arm, he could not snap the steel.

Giving up, Bucky began looking around the room. The room was dark, (but not to his eyes), and there was a single steel door with a small, barred window. The room was square, and nothing else decorated the room, apart for him and his chair. The walls were bare and white, the colors he hated because it reminded him of the experimentation he went through. He shivered at that.

Looking down at himself, Bucky saw that his tux was in tatters. Blood stained the silk white undershirt, and he could tell that the bullets had been taken out while he was unconscious. He'd stopped bleeding some time ago. But out of everything, his dress gloves were in tact. Everything else, his gun, his cell, and his bluetooth had been taken.

He struggled against the bonds more to no avail, grunting with effort. Hydra had never taught him how to get out of his bonds unfortunately. Then they wouldn't have been able to wipe him and experiment on him, something that sent shivers down his spine. It was useless so he stopped struggling again, hoping that Clint would find him, and hoping that Clint hadn't set him up. He was hoping Clint was trustable.

Instead, Bucky decided to listen to what was outside the door, in order to gather information if he could. From what he could tell, there were thirteen people guarding his door and the hallway. They were armed, if the way their arms hit the weapons occasionally as they walked was any clue. From the sound it made, Bucky deduced that they must have been huge weapons, more than likely rifles.

His breath hitched as he heard six pairs of footsteps, one having an air of authority, approaching. "Open the door," a gruff voice said, and the door opened to reveal a thin, tall caucasian man in a tux and glasses. He had brown hair and a tiny nose. Behind him were two assistants, one female, his daughter, in a green olive evening gown with a blue silk shawl over her shoulders for modesty. Her lemon perfume wafted over to him, and he blushed as he remembered attempting to flirt with her, via Clints obscure instructions. He'd only succeeded in embarrassing himself. He really, really wasn't ready for social interactions.

The other assisstant was a male, also in a tuxedo and a bronze bow tie, a white napkin in one pocket.

The woman held a weapon in her hand, a large automatic rifle as she glared menacingly at him. The man only had a pistol. Bucky didn't see any weapon on the father, but as his shirt moved he could hear the buttons inside the jacket of his tux hitting a holster and knew the man was armed.

The man, Mr. Carter, circled Bucky with no expression on his face. Bucky kept his eyes straight forward, allowing himself to be inspected. As Mr. Carter stopped in front of him, he grinned wide, suddenly, pulling out his sunglasses from his front pocket and cleaning them before putting them away. "So, I find myself graced with the presence of the Winter Soldier and yet living to tell the tale."

Bucky's breath hitched. Hydra had never taught him how to lie. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to say in monotone, causing Mr. Carter to chuckle.

"I see you've met my eldest daughter. Find her pretty, do you? Now allow me to introduce you to my son in law, my late daughter's husband." With that he gestured to the other man in the room, and Bucky reluctantly met his eyes. The man narrowed his eyes at him as Bucky met his stare steadily.

Bucky's attention snapped back to Mr. Carter as the man rambled on again. "I must admit, I was rather surprised to see you at my function, and with Hawkeye, no less. Your tresspassing has caused quite the stir in my buisness. You've scared quite a few customers away."

"I could care less," Bucky retorted in defiance.

"But I've also gained a few customers," Carter smiled, and something about the way he said it made Bucky shiver and caused the temperature in the room to drop.

Despite his nerves, Bucky dared to venture, "What customers?"

Mr. Carter knelt in front of him, not unlike what Alexander Pierce would do to him when he was brainwashing him. "You're works, you're capabilities, do you know how many people would pay to have someone like you in their custody?"

Bucky's eyes widened in fear. But he shook his head. He didn't like where this was going.

Mr. Carter continued, "There are a number that are willing to buy you, even on the black market. Some have bid higher than others. In fact, it appears that some are... eager... to have you back." Another shiver went down Bucky's spine as he knew very well who the man was referring to: Hydra.

A dark chuckle escaped Mr. Carter. "Poor you. And yet you've managed to make me more money in a short time than any deal has. It appears the final bidder is Hydra. Makes sense. They're the only ones, really, that have the money to buy you back."

Inmdediately, Bucky began struggling against his bonds in panic. "YOU CAN'T!" he shouted desperately, eyes wide. Fear gripped his heart as emotions he couldn't explain tore through him. The pain of flashes of memory of cruelty ripped him apart and he felt his world shatter. Desperateness gripped him, and a begging look was in his eyes as he cried for mercy, "IT'S HUMAN TRAFFICKING! YOU CAN'T SELL ME A SLAVE!"

Mr. Carter laughed more and turned to leave. The daughter and son in law left, but Mr. Carter stopped as he reached the door. "But you see, my dear Winter, I already have." Mr. Carter left.

Bucky cried in anguish.

(Some time has passed)

For how long Bucky struggled against his bonds and cried, he didn't know. But eventually, the tears left his eyes and his nose dried up, leaving his tear stained face looking slightly puffy. He must have been left in that dark, cold room for hours.

He tried not to loose courage as he waited, hoping Clint would come find him. Some part of his mind accused Clint of setting him up, and while the majority of him believed that, some part of him that he would never admit secretly hoped that Clint was truly his friend like he had stated. He'd never realized how badly he'd wanted another friend until now, if he understand friendship that is. But if it was like Captain America was to him and how Steve treated him, then yes, he sort of understood friendship.

Groaning with stress, he struggled against his bonds again, desperate to get out of there.

Suddenly, shouts were heard, and next thing Bucky knew was that the door opened and another sturdy chair was placed beside him. The big men hauling the chair never paid him any attention, but as the shouting increased, Bucky realized with a start that it was Clint.

"Get off of me, you big goons!" Hawkeye hissed as he was dragged struggling into the room and restrained in the chair next to Bucky. Then the men left and the door closed again.

Bucky got a good look at Clint. He was stripped of his weapons and his nice formal suit was also in tatters, blood adorning the cuffs. He smelled of sweat, and Bucky was pretty sure that he'd been fighting for some time the way his hair was disheveled.

Sudden anger at his predicament and the fact that he was sold to Hydra gripped Bucky. Now he wasn't feeling so sympathetic towards Clint. "You know, I blame you for this," Bucky snarled and Clint sighed.

"I know, kid," Clint conceded, not looking at him, guilt on his face.

"Steve's going to kill you for this."

"I know."

Bucky snorted. "Worst babysitter ever."

(Earlier in the mission)

Bucky nervously rubbed his arms as they stepped into the grand ball room. There were so many people and already Bucky was feeling anxious.

In the flight earlier that day, Clint had given him a picture of a beautiful young woman with beautiful green eyes, a slender straight figure, and gorgeous blonde hair. "This is Olivia Carter, daughter of Hugo Carter. Your job is to get close to her and convince her to take you to the storage room. That is supposedly where they are storing all the illegal merchandise, along with who knows what else."

They were both currently in the pilot's chairs, however the quinjet was on autopilot, leaving their hands free. Bucky had stared at the picture of the beautiful woman in puzzlement, then turned to Clint. "And how am I supposed to do that?" he asked, a bewildered look on his face.

Clint shrugged and got up out of the pilot's seat, going to the back and bringing a box of weapons down. "Flirt with her."

Growling, Bucky got up out of the pilot's chair and paced the plane. "We've been over this already, Clint. I'm assassin, not a spy. I don't have undercover skills."

Clint stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. "Look, just try to bring the old Bucky Barnes back for a bit." Bucky glared at him for this and Clint held up his hands appeasingly. He sighed in exasperation. "Look, just walk up to her and tell her hi. Compliment her dress, even if you don't like it. Start a conversation. It's super easy."

"Well if it's super easy," Bucky snarled. "Then why don't you do it?"

Clint froze. "I can't. That's what I brought you along for, kid, to do the flirting."

Bucky folded his arms in defiance. "I won't. You can do it yourself," he stated and began walking to the front of the plane.

"I can't!" Clint called out, and Bucky ignored him, sitting in the pilot's chair again.

"No," was Bucky's answer.

"Yes," Clint ground out, trying to put authority in his tone, causing Bucky to suddenly stand up and walk in his face.

"I said no!" Bucky shouted. "I don't flirt. I can't flirt. You can't make me do it."

"Bucky," Clint said softly, causing Bucky to snap.

Throwing the nearest piece of cargo he could find clear across the plane, Bucky shouted, "You can't make me!"

Realizing Bucky was having a temper tantrum because he didn't recognize or understand his emotions, Clint sought to placate him and calm him down before he got even more riled up. "Please, Bucky! I can't do it! I just can't!"

"Why?" Bucky turned to him, and Clint sighed, turning away. A brief pause ensued between them.

"Because I'm married," Clint finally aquiesced, turning back to Bucky.

Bucky froze. He'd never known that, and a part of him wondered if Steve knew. But sudden understanding flowed through Bucky. He may not know much about marriage, but he knew that flirting with someone other than your marriage partner wasn't a good thing. Whoever his wife was, Bucky could see that he cared about her deeply. He also understood that this was why Clint had brought him along, in hopes that Bucky had retained some of his social skills from his days before Hydra.

Sudden fear gripped Bucky at this, and his knees shook. Walking up, Clint helped Bucky sit down. "Hey, it's not too hard."

"I don't remember how," Bucky moaned, and it was true, he was socially awkward if anything.

"Then I'll teach you," Hawkeye promised him. "I didn't win my beautiful wife for no reason at all." Silence reigned between them, and Clint added on in the most dangerous manner Bucky had seen out of him, causing him to gulp, "And don't ever tell anyone about her or that I'm married. I'll have your head if you do."

Bucky nodded swiftly for nerves. Then Clint proceeded to take a single gun out of the box he had taken down, handing it to Bucky. Bucky took a look at it and at the limited amount of amunition it contained. When it became clear after a few minutes that this was the only protection Clint was giving him, Bucky demanded in sudden concern, "This is it?"

Clint raised a lone eyebrow. "This is an information gathering assignment, not a killing mission. You shouldn't even need it."

Bucky looked down nervously at the gun again. "This isn't a lot."

"You shouldn't even need it," was the only response he was given. Clint then took the time to try to explain the subtleties and finalities of flirting with Bucky, which of course went way over his head. Bucky drowned out his confusion for the rest of the ride and when Clint asked him if he understood, Bucky nodded yes even though he didn't. Clint gave him a suspicious look and Bucky knew he wasn't convinced. But the man didn't bring it up with him again.

Bucky thought on this as they walked around the ball room. But suddenly Clint tugged on his jacket and Bucky looked in the direction that Clint was looking at. There, not to far away from him was the woman in the photograph conversing with other women. She was in an olive green evening dress, a shawl over her shoulders.

Clint lightly shoved Bucky in her direction, causing Bucky to glare. "Go talk to her," Clint encouraged,

"But I don't know how!" Bucky protested.

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes. "Remember what we talked about earlier, kid?"

Bucky gupled nervously. "Not a kid," he stated. Clint shoved him jerkily forward more and Bucky began walking over to her. But when Clint stopped, Bucky turned back in panic. Clint waved him on and Bucky soon realized that he was going to have to do this on his own.

The other women left Ms. Carter, and pretty soon Bucky was standing in front of her nervously. "Hi," he awkwardly began. "Um, I don't like your dress, but it looks good on you?" If only he could have seen Clint freeze behind him, a mortified look on his face.

Immediately, the woman looked offended. "And I suppose this dress makes me look fat as well?" she snarked back.

Bucky anxiously twitched, not sure what to say, hands in his pocket. Clint hadn't prepared him for this one. "Um, maybe?"

At this point Clint popped up behind him, looking red with embarrassment, leaving Bucky to wonder what he had done. "Hi," Clint introduced himself with a self conscious chuckle, slinging his arm around Bucky's shoulder to Bucky's annoyance. "I apologize for what my cousin said to you. You see, he's mentally ill."

"Ah," the woman angrily responded and turned on her heels, walking away.

Giving him a horrified look, Clint turned to Bucky. "What was that about?"

"I did what you said to!" Bucky snarled back, angry that Clint was trying to pin this on him. "You said to compliment her dress even if I didn't like it. Well, I did!"

Clint slapped his forhead in exasperation. "Yes, but I didn't mean that you should say that you don't like the dress!"

"You never mentioned that!" Buck was outraged.

Clint sighed in exhaustion. "Bucky, you are so socially impaired. Remind me to never take you to a high end social event again."

(Present)

Bucky was panicking more as time went on, struggling against his restraints. Clint was struggling to, but he had nowhere the crazed look in his eyes that Bucky did.

After Bucky's faux pas, they had, (or rather Clint had) opted for another route to investigate. And so Bucky had found himself in a line with others to go into other parts of the building. After he was through he snuck away, following Clint's instructions via the bluetooth. Unfortunately it had not ended well, for Bucky soon found out that it was a trap and someone had gassed the corridoor he was in, causing him to not think straight.

Eventually, due to bad decisions from the gas that they were hoping would knock him out but didn't, Bucky decided to hold up in one of the small filing rooms against better judgment. The gas was still messing with his brain. And that was how he came to be captured.

"Calm down, Bucky," Clint encouraged him, and Bucky couldn't help but snap back, deep panic settling in his bones.

"Calm down? You're the one who got me into this position! And now I've been sold to Hydra!"

A disturbed expression clouded Clint's face as he froze. "So it's true," he murmured softly, looking worried. "They're involved in human trafficking, selling people to work in factories."

A distressed cry escaped Bucky, and he turned to Clint the best he could. "Why didn't you tell me this before? We could have avoided all this!"

"I had no proof!" Clint snapped back. "That was the point of this mission!"

As Bucky struggled harder than ever against his restraints, his arms began bleeding. Tears were in his eyes, desperate to escape his fate.

More footsteps were heard and suddenly the door opened. In walked several men in tuxedos, and as their eyes landed on Bucky, delight covered their faces. In their hands were rags, bandages, and one even had a doctors flashlight. Bucky fought his restraints harder and whimpered upon seeing them.

"What do you want?" Clint snapped at the men.

Instead, they ignored him and stalked towards Bucky, the nearest grabbing him by the hair. The whites of Bucky's eyes could be seen as the other man shined the light in his eyes. "Leave him alone!" Clint snarled, spitting some. But the men merely chuckled as they began checking Bucky's injuries, which weren't there any more. But there was still dried blood on him.

The man holding Bucky's head by the hair was big and small, a bald man with brown eyebrows. As he grinned, Bucky could see that he was missing a front tooth.

However, the man that was inspecting Bucky like he was an interesting specimen Bucky assumed was a doctor. He eyed the man warily, fear of being hurt in his eyes, a remnant from his days with Hydra. The doctor was of medium build, an upturned nose, and was only partially bald, the hair on top of his head gone. "Need to see that the merchandise is in perfect condition," the doctor grinned at Bucky causing him to snarl at what they were referring to him as.

"Hey!" Clint roared in anger and indignation, his face coloring red in rage. "That was uncalled for!"

"Not a slave!" Bucky shouted, and the men laughed at him. But as the man ventured too close to his face with his hands as he examined Barnes, Bucky took the opportunity to bite down hard. The man shrieked and grabbed his bleeding hand. Next thing Bucky knew, he was being violently beat up by the men, bruises forming on his face. Bucky screamed and tried his hardest to shield and protect himself despite being restrained.

Voices from the past were in his ears and he knew a flashback was being brought on because of the harsh treatment. His sense of his surroundings diminished and he was only brought out of it as the abuse stopped and upon hearing Clint shout, "ENOUGH! LEAVE HIM BE!"

As he came to, he realized he was panting and scared. Looking up nervously, he could see the men glaring at him, yet they were wary of him to. He could tell that this time they didn't want to provoke a reaction out of him, seeing how dangerous he was. Part of Bucky felt smug about this, but the other part of him was terrified.

The doctor and brutal man appoached him warily. Eyeing each other for a moment, Bucky gave the most menacing glare he could. Finally, the doctor approached all the way. He sighed in frustration. "Now we've got to patch you up again."

Clint snorted in derision. "That wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't beat him up."

"It wouldn't have been necessary if he hadn't have bit me!" the doctor snapped.

"Maybe you should have kept your hands to yourself, then," Clint retorted. Bucky continued to glare defiantly.

This time, Bucky was wary as the doctor began to inspect him and treat his already healing wounds. He stayed pefrectly still, not wanting to incur another beating. As the doc pulled his shirt partly away to examine his metal arm, Bucky trembled slightly, looking to Clint for fear and comfort.

Clint met his gaze steadily, but Bucky could tell that Clint was afraid, but not for himself. He was afraid for Bucky. "Be still," Clint silently mouthed, and as the doc began tracing the scar on his shoulder, then putting a cool, stinging ointment on, Bucky shivered involuntarily. Seeing this, the big man stepped forward, trying to be intimidating, though Bucky could tell that he was nervous to be so near a mentally unhinged assassin.

Breathing deeply, Bucky tried to calm himself the best he could, using techniques his therapist had taught him. It did little to help though. "These are old scars," the doctor grunted in satisfaction, stepping away and putting a cap on the ointment. He then proceeded to put the vial in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. Nodding to his comrade, the big man stepped away from Bucky, and Bucky couldn't help letting out a deep breath of relief. "Nothing that we can do about them. The rest should heal very easily and you should be presentable by the time Hydra comes."

Bucky was back to glaring, and the men soon left, the door shutting with a bang behind them.

As soon as they left and were out of earshot, Bucky let out a whimper of a cry, the stress getting to him. Clint was back to struggling against his bonds. "Easy, Bucky," he tried to reassure the mentally ill man. "We'll get out of here!"

"No we won't!" Bucky screamed in distress, fighting harder. "This is your fault, Clint!"

"I know!" Clint snapped back, but then his tone softened some, trying to be comforting. "I know your scared, kid, but you can't give up."

"Not a kid," Bucky moaned, leaning back some to take a break. He breathed hard and heavy, eyes closing, exhausted, especially emotionally. "Their going to hurt me again," he whispered softly, in forlorn.

"Not on my watch, kid," Clint tried to reassure him.

"Not a kid," Bucky grunted, and Clint chuckled some.

"We're all kids, truth be told."

How long the men stayed there, struggling to free themselves, Bucky didn't know. But eventually, the sounds of more footsteps was heard. A panicked gasp escaled Bucky as he heard what seemed like an army coming for him, and he struggled harder, but to no avail.

The boots stopped outside the door and chatter was heard, followed by a grunt.

"Just be careful, sir. He bit one of our doctors."

A snort of derision ensued and the door opened to reveal a middle aged man with scars from burns all over his face. Bucky's eyes widened in fear, and he heard a growl from Clint. "Rumlow," the archer snarled.

"Hawkeye," Brock greeted mildly, disinterested almost in his tone. But his eyes stayed on Bucky the whole time.

Brock entered the room and as he did so, Bucky could smell the sharp tang of his deoderant wafting over to him. He was complete in his Crossbones costume, minus the helmet, and as he waltzed slowly over to Bucky, Bucky tried to pull away but was unable to. Searching his former commander and trainer's face, Bucky could find no expression that allowed him to see what Rumlow was going to do to him.

Rumlow studied Bucky as well, stopling a few paces away. Circling Bucky, his eyes seemed to sweep over him, examining him, and a snort of derision sounded out of him as he stopped full circle in front of his former Winter Soldier. Bucky stared back. Then, just as suddenly, Rumlow stalked forward and grabbed Bucky roughly by the chin.

"Hey!" Bucky heard Clint shout, and only then was he aware from Clint's tone of voice that he had been watching everything carefully. Bucky had been too caught up in watching Rumlow beforehand that he hadn't paid attention to the other assassin in the group.

Defiantly staring back, anger in his eyes, he retained eye contact with the former Hydra commander until Brock released his chin roughly. "You've gone soft, Asset," Rumlow sneered derisively. "Look at you, allowing yourself to be captured like this, and crying the whole time your held captive."

Bucky glared at Rumlow.

"Beats being burned up like a stick," Bucky retorted back, knowing it would be a sensitive issue for his former commander. Sure enough, a fire burned in Rumlow's eyes, and he hit his asset hard.

"I remember you used to be more quiet," Rumlow snarked, and Clint rolled his eyes.

"I remember you being a jerk," Clint responded, causing Rumlow to hit him to.

"No matter," Rumlow whispered to Bucky. "You'll learn your manners again."

Yeah, I found out that my limit of words that fanfic will accept for a chapter is a little over 10,000 words. Which of course completely sucks because I prefer to write 12,000 word chapters. The rest of this chapter will be in chapter two.

Please review if you are reading!