TRIGGER WARNING - a character remembers witnessing a rape.

Chapter 2

The hot water washes away the vomit and tears and Chris starts to feel human again. He resolutely meets his own eyes in the small, fogged-up mirror. He isn't going to make this worse than it was. All they did was drown him, a little. They didn't do to him what they'd done to Seb, which . . . God. Jesus fuck.

When he closes his eyes he's still in that room, feeling a fleeting moment's joy at being upright, 'cause they can't waterboard him like that, right? That means it's stopped.

Then Rumlow- and let's digress a little. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck, man? When did he accept the reality of all this? Well, it had taken his own panic at not being able to breathe, the black spots in front of his eyes, the stream of piss down his leg, and he accepted it. So, back to the vault. Then a death-happy rapist shoves his crotch in Seb's face with a grin, and Chris's whole world turns upside down.

The look of despair and acceptance in Seb's eyes still haunts him, hours later. At the time, Chris had no doubt that Rumlow would do all of the things he said, but ultimately, wouldn't they be as dead anyway? He's still ashamed that he didn't offer to take Seb's place, that he wasn't strong enough. All I did was fuck things up even more, he thinks. It's like a nightmarish vision he can't scrub away: Seb choking on that asshole's dick, a vein popping in his neck as he tries to breathe.

Chris can't look at himself any more. He investigates the storage space under the wash-basin, discovering tons of supplies – disposable razors in their packaging, shaving foam, unopened toothbrushes. He shakes his head. Man, they really treated Rogers like some caveman, like they needed to do everything for him. He came from the forties, not the Stone Age.

Chris has an idea. It won't take long.

When he comes out, Seb is sitting at the kitchen table, writing furiously. They found some paper and pencils, but Seb had shooed him into the shower, insisting on him taking the first one. Chris realises that he's only wearing a towel, and wants to retreat into the bathroom, but Seb's already seen him. His eyes go blank for a second, then his mouth twitches into a half-smile.

"You shaved?" Seb's voice is still a little hoarse, and Chris wishes he has Rumlow in front of him, so he can tear his dick off with his bare hands.

"Yeah. Thought maybe Rogers will be more likely to help us if he sees a face he recognises." That comes out snarkier than he intends. Or does it?

Seb raises an eyebrow. "Ooh. Shots fired!"

Chris slaps a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "What? What'd I say?"

Seb just shakes his head. "It's possible that he really is that altruistic."

"Sure."

Chris wants Seb to get in the bathroom, he wants something to wash that hurt look off his face, that little puzzled crease between his eyebrows, that expression of 'what just happened to me?' He knows it's just a superficial thing, just a stop-gap, but still.

"Hey," he starts, "why don't you see if I left any hot water in the tank?"

Seb grins, finally. "Oh, you fucker."

Chris grins back. He hopes Seb won't stab him with the toothbrush he laid out on the wash-basin. He wanders into Captain America's bedroom (mindfuck number one) and starts rummaging through his drawers (mindfuck number two).

At first, he's not sure if he should steal the man's underwear as well as some sweats and a t-shirt, but then decides to go all in. They can try to repay the guy later, right, he thinks, ignoring the little voice in his head which asks, how? How are they going to repay him? They don't exist, here. They have no money, no bank accounts, nothing. That is, if they trust what a murdering rapist told them, while they were restrained and tortured, but why would he lie about that?

As he's getting dressed, he remembers Rumlow talking about the clothes they were wearing – heh, he thinks. Maybe I can sell them for some cash.

Chris can hear the shower running so he decides to see what Seb's been writing. Wow. He's managed to start a goddamn list of all the plot points after the Winter Soldier – some things from Ultron that he doesn't even remember, and he's in the goddamn movie.

In the corner, Chris sees a list of the trigger words, the ones Seb used in the bank vault, and with a feeling like a hand grasping his heart and squeezing, Chris sees that Seb has penciled in a little note next to them, which says spelling? He rubs his face – it doesn't matter if the spelling is wrong, they're not in that weird Russian font which makes Chris think of old spy movies from the seventies – but it's so typical of Seb, especially since he took that writing class.

Suddenly, he's back in that room, waiting for Seb's supremely terrifying alter ego to come in and blast them away, wondering if it'll hurt and how bad, when he hears Seb start reciting words in what sounds like Russian. He remembers it feeling painful, the sudden hope. Of course, first he wonders if Seb's losing his mind, if it was too much for him, what that motherfucker did to him. It's only when the Winter Soldier actually answers Seb that Chris remembers, because the press tour for Civil War had been full of the words, and the responses, and expecting Seb to be word perfect in lines from a movie that had wrapped over a year before.

What he mostly remembers is Seb getting annoyed over YouTube commenters bitching about his Russian pronunciation, which is when Mackie threatened to take away his phone. Chris didn't blame him; the fifteenth round of 'do they know that Romanian is actually not the same as Russian' or 'Bucky Barnes was from Brooklyn' even made him roll his eyes, and he loves Seb. Wait, wait, not loves. Likes. As a friend? Some friend you are, the little voice in his head jibes – you let him get face-fucked by a sociopath.

"Don't you know it's rude to read someone's writing behind their back?" When he jumps, he looks around to see Seb, with wet hair and a supremely skeptical look.

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't realize you were writing in your journal. What's this, your Romanian shopping list?" Chris pretends not to notice that Seb is wearing his own clothes, not anything 'borrowed' from Captain America, and Chris doesn't think it's because they'd be the wrong size.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "You know, you were in Civil War, would it kill you to- oh, you are so fucking with me, right?"

Chris grins. Of course, that's when Captain frickin' America climbs through the window. "Jesus tapdancing Christ!" No, it's not his suavest moment, he realises. "You almost gave me a fucking heart attack, bro!"

Steve Rogers isn't wearing his cowl, and he isn't carrying his shield, but he's got the WWII version of the suit on, and Chris is suddenly swamped in nostalgia for it. His favorite is still the so-called stealth suit, but the WWII one is ok. It's better than the Avengers one – to be fair, a potato sack with arm-holes would have been better than the Avengers one. He knows his mind is trying to distract him from looking at the guy's face, and then he bites the bullet: it's his face, but it isn't, just like it was Seb's face on the Winter Soldier, yet not.

Cap raises both hands in what's supposed to be a calming gesture, Chris supposes. Chris hopes it's working on Seb, but a glance down, where Seb's hand is clenched into a fist, tells him otherwise. Cap's eyes follow Chris's, and suddenly there's agony in them. It's Seb's left arm, Chris realises, and it's made of flesh and blood.

"I guess it's pointless to say that I'm Steve Rogers," Cap starts, and they both nod like puppets on strings.

Chris realises that he's fuckin' starstruck, because this, in front of him, isn't him. Steve Rogers, the real one, has a presence, a larger than life feel, that Chris needs fifteen cameras and various filters to even approach. Also, there isn't one fuckin' wrinkle on his perfect face.

Seb clears his throat. "Sorry for breaking in."

Steve ('cos yeah, he has to start calling him Steve) shrugs. "I wasn't coming back here, anyway. Hey, I gotta let them in, ok?"

Chris is bracing himself for a pissed off Winter Soldier, when he thinks, wait . . . them? Then Mackie comes through the door, and Chris knows he makes some kind of movement to, you know, hug the guy, when Seb grabs his arm, shaking his head a little. 'Cos yeah, it's not Mackie. It's Sam Wilson. Followed by . . . Chris actually can't tell. Is it the asset? Is it Barnes? Whoever it is, he isn't happy with them. That's Seb's pissed-off look, right there, and it's much scarier on a superstrong man with a metal arm.

"Bucky, no!" Rogers can tell what his friend wants to do when he starts murder-strutting his way towards them.

"You used the words on me. You sent me after them." That's Seb's voice alright, but no emotion in the words.

Seb says nothing, just raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. Rogers looks from one to the other, like he doesn't know what's going on, which is probably right, Chris thinks. One minute his friend's been dead for eighty years, next minute he's got two versions. Well, Seb's mine, Chris thinks. You can't have him. Wait, what?

Barnes has that same weirded out look that he had in the bank vault. He looks at Rogers, like he knows he's supposed to know him. Then he looks back at Seb.

"It was a good plan." He licks his lips, giving Rogers another sneaky look. "I know you."

Rogers' eyes turn all shiny, and Chris wonders: do I look that dopey when I look at Seb- uh – Barnes – in the movies?

"Yes, you do, Bucky."

They probably would all stand there for hours, Chris thinks, except Wilson, at least, still has some sense. "Don't you need to get that uniform off? It weighs a ton dry, let alone wet."

Rogers pulls himself together and puts an arm over Bucky's shoulders, then winces when Bucky flinches, like he's expecting a slap. No wonder, Chris thinks, remembering the scene from the movie, with Pierce. At least Redford was old school, and knew how to fake a slap so that it looked good on camera.

They go into Rogers' bedroom, and he and Seb look at Wilson, who looks back again. Awkward.

"Man, this is weird." He even sounds like Mackie, which, why shouldn't he? Wilson is holding the shield over one arm and a small backpack in the other. "Hey, we found these in the car Robocop was driving."

Chris looks inside, and it's their wallets and phones. Both screens are cracked but the phones still light up. He looks at the picture of himself and Dodger on the home screen and wants to cry.

"Cute dog." Chris looks up, and Wilson is looking back at him, eyes warm and kind.

His eyes sting and he has to blink fast. Come on, Chris. Keep it together. Seb is still looking down at his own phone, showing a picture of himself as a kid, with his mom. There's a muscle twitching in his jaw, and he's taking deep breaths through his nose. He's never seen Seb like this, operating on his last nerve, trying hard to keep himself together. Well, he has – once before – in the vault.

Seb looks up, meeting Wilson's eyes. "Sebastian," he says, going for a handshake, and Wilson nods, pretending, Chris thinks, that he hasn't been told this.

"Sam," he answers, and Seb nods.

Chris plays along with the introductions. An uncomfortable silence falls over them and Chris can see on Wilson's face that he's trying to come up with something non-confrontational to break it.

"Hey Rogers! Tell me you still have those beers I brought over the other night!"

"Yeah! There's those godawful chips too!" Steve's voice is slightly muffled, like he's getting dressed. There's also the faint sound of thuds, probably Bucky's guns and knives hitting the floor.

"How dare you man, cool ranch doritos are the bomb!"

"Oh, my man, you are so wrong. The wrongest, in fact," Chris finds himself saying, and just like that, the ice is broken. "Come on, let me give you a hand with that."

He finds himself in Captain America's kitchen nook (what the actual fuck) opening cupboards, getting out bowls for all the snack foods he can find – chips, nuts, the works. He comes back out and hands Seb a beer.

Seb looks at the bottle like he doesn't know what it is, and Chris feels a chill down his spine. Is this shock? Is he going into shock? There was a second, in the vault, when Seb spaced out, but managed to pull himself together. Now they're kinda safe, but Chris doesn't know what to do. He doesn't, and looks at Wilson, telegraphing his panic.

"Hey, what about you, too good for cool ranch?" Wilson says, and it's just as breezy as Mackie always is. There's nothing deep, no 'do you wanna talk about it' hidden question.

"Just give me all the carbs," Seb answers, finally back and present in the room with them. "All of them."

Wilson laughs, and they sit down around the kitchen table. Steve and Bucky (might as well go all in, Chris thinks) join them, both wearing some version of athleisure wear, and Chris wonders if Rogers has any clothes left.

"Shit, bro, I took your clothes, man-" he starts, but Steve cuts him off with a wave.

"If you'd looked in the other closet, you'd have found so much more, all still in the packaging." Steve grins, a wide smile. Chris is reminded of the notes in the margins of his 'USO' scripts – bigger smile, cheesier. "After Natasha saw what I was wearing in New York, just after I came out of the ice, she left specific instructions. Not sure I'm fine with a lady buying my underwear for me, though."

Seb finally smiles, and Chris feels like he does on a spring day back home – the sun comes out, the birds are singing . . . what the hell is happening to him? Besides being marooned in another dimension.

Barnes is just staring at the food and Chris wonders if he can eat it. Steve seems to reach that conclusion at the same time, as does Wilson.

"Homie, don't know if that's good for his stomach – don't know what they've been feeding him. You," he adds, looking straight at Bucky this time. Bucky shrugs.

"Sometimes I got solids. If I spent longer out of cryo. Nothing too . . . too . . ." He's chewing the inside of his mouth, like he's looking for a word, and Chris watches Rogers's heart break a million times in a few seconds. "Nothing spicy, I guess."

Steve looks resolute, jaw clenched, like he's on a recruitment poster. "You're getting some oatmeal. There's that instant stuff, for the microwave."

"Shit, Stevie, you know I hate oatmeal," Barnes says, and everyone gapes at him, Chris included. They recover quickly, and there's a smile in Steve's voice when he answers.

"No arguments, Sergeant."

"Gonna pull rank on me now?" Barnes grumbles, and subsides. Then he goes blank again.

"So, in another universe, there's all kinds of movies about us?" Wilson is trying to change the subject, Chris gets it, and he reluctantly looks away from Bucky, who's sitting there like a switched off robot. "Tell me Denzel Washington plays me."

Seb snorts, looking up from his phone, where he's been scrolling through his photo gallery. "Denzel Washington is in his sixties, man, seriously."

"That doesn't matter!" Wilson's voice is loud and offended. "Black don't crack!" Steve, who's just coming back with a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon, opens his mouth, and Wilson makes a 'stop' hand gesture. "And I can say that, because I'm black."

Seb shrugs, a half-smile on his face, which is as much he's been able to manage since . . . yeah, since. "Fair enough. Nah, man. A guy called Anthony Mackie plays you. A really good friend," he continues, switching to Safari, "who doesn't exist here. Come on! He was in the fricking Hurt Locker! That movie won Best Picture!"

Chris shakes his head, distracted for a second by Steve murmuring to Bucky, getting him to eat his oatmeal by making it an order. Even though Bucky seemed more lucid than he'd been at the end of Winter Soldier, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him back.

"Hey, look up Robert Redford," Chris says, and Seb gives him the supreme stink-eye.

"I don't know what would be worse, finding out he exists, or finding out he doesn't. Seriously."

Oh, of course. Because he looks like Pierce, Chris thinks.

Steve grabs a beer and some chips and sits down, finally satisfied that Bucky's eating. He stares at Chris and Seb in turn. Chris finds himself almost hypnotised by the guy's presence; has to hold back from telling him everything at once.

"So. Bucky told us everything he remembers from the bank vault, but I'd still like to hear it from you."

Seb winces, and just like that, he sees an expression of sympathy form on his own face, which is weird, as he's not looking in a mirror.

"I didn't mean . . . just tell us how . . . " Captain America is lost for words, Chris thinks. Guess it's not so easy when there's no script to follow, huh.

Wilson shakes his head, mumbling, "Come on, man."

"I think I know how we got here, but I'm coming to that last." Seb has Steve's attention immediately, and once again, Chris feels the irrational impulse to put himself between them. "Basically, we were on a press tour, for the latest Avengers movie. Someone suggested going for a walk under the Roosevelt Bridge-"

Seb pauses, like he's wondering who that was, and why he can't remember, just like Chris. He shakes it off. "The next thing I know, a police cruiser blows up, the Winter Soldier is walking down the street, shooting people, and we're on our own. Me and Chris."

Chris nods. "Could have been on your own, for all the use I was," he says. Wow, that came out bitter. Seb meets his eyes, shakes his head.

"Hey, I grew up with Communism, remember? I know from crazy shit."

Sam and Steve exchange looks.

"I was born in Romania," Seb explains. "Came over here when I was twelve. Anyway, we're trying to keep a low profile, when we get picked up by the Strike team. That . . . Rollins? He's one crazy fuck."

"Is he the one who punched me in the gut?" Chris asks, still feeling it.

Seb nods. "After I talked Rumlow out of shocking your reckless ass," he continues, smirking a little at Chris, "they cuffed us and put us in a van with Bucky. I thought, if he doesn't get wiped, maybe he'd be able to help us, later. And he did."

Steve gives Sam another careful look. Bucky, who's finished eating by now, butts in. "They don't know what that means. The wipe."

Seb is chewing on his lower lip. "They had this sort of chair. They would strap him in it and zap his brain with . . . oh, I don't know. A million volts. His memories would be gone."

Sam is sitting there mouth open, while Steve rubs his forehead, slowly and deliberately, his eyes unfocused.

"Before you ask if it hurt, pretty sure it hurt like a motherfucker," Seb goes on. "'Cos I lost my voice with all the screaming I had to do."

Bucky just shrugs. "It was HYDRA. Everything hurt. It's what they do." It looks like he's passing through a lucid phase again, Chris thinks.

"Anyway, they waterboarded Chris, and then Rumlow made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Seb says, and Chris bristles, angry at Seb's light tone, at the impression he's giving, that it was nothing.

He wants to say something, but Sam catches his eye, shaking his head. Sure, Chris gets it, Seb has to control the narrative at least, because he couldn't control what happened to him. Still, he wants to convey how helpless he felt, how it was the worst thing in the world for him to watch Seb being raped. Oh, it was bad for you, was it, you selfish prick, his inner voice taunts him.

"When Rumlow- when they all left, I tried to talk Bucky into helping us, but it was just too much, the conditioning and all. So, I used these words – they're in Russian – they were revealed in a flashback, in a later movie."

Bucky spoke up again. "You told Rumlow that there aren't any later movies."

"I lied." Seb shrugged. Bucky raises an eyebrow. It seems like an admiring eyebrow, as far as Chris can tell. "The Winter Soldier was released almost five years ago. We're from 2019."

"So, that list you made . . . " Steve asks, and Chris remembers: Steve Rogers has an eidetic memory. Comic books, again – Seb had told him all that.

"Everything that happens after this movie. The ending's already changed a bit – before, you still manage to talk Bucky down, but he shoots you three times and beats you half to death first." Steve's mouth is hanging open.

"This is all pretty hard to believe," Sam mumbles, and Chris rolls his eyes.

"C'mon, Seb, give them the line." He's heard it often enough, had it shouted at him in conventions, proof of the enduring Stucky love. He'd have thought throwing away his shield twice and defying 117 countries would be enough.

Chris starts it, modulating his voice, toning it down, turning to Seb, who doesn't want to meet his eyes. "Thank you, Buck. But I can get by on my own."

Seb answers with a tired smile. "Thing is . . . you don't have to. I'm with you to the end of the line, pal."

Both Steve and Bucky are stunned. Steve is the first to avert his eyes, which are shiny, while Bucky is frozen in shock, breathing heavily. Steve bites his lip, shaking his head.

"Can't read about that in a museum." He gets up, knuckling at his eyes, and bends over next to Bucky. "C'mon buddy, you need some rest. You'll feel better after."

"You were smaller, before. Right?" Bucky is mumbling the words, agitated, and Steve looks like he's gonna burst into tears.

"Yeah, Buck." He puts an arm around him, leading him to the bedroom. He's back in a few minutes, and Seb is now busily peeling the label off his beer bottle.

"So, this list," Seb starts, turning the notebook around to face them. "Over here, there's the trigger words. They're actually in a red notebook, which they kept in Siberia. Along with Bucky. I know, it all sounds crazy, but that's how it was in the movies, at least. One of Bucky's handlers, a guy called Karpov, he's hiding in Cleveland. I think Black Widow should be able to track him down."

"What's all this other stuff?" Sam asks, and Chris sees him pointing at the list Seb made, of all the things that happen to lead to Civil War.

Chris decides it's time to show that he's not completely useless. "Back in the vault, Rumlow mentioned a guy called Strucker, and a staff. I remember that from the second Avengers movie. This Hydra guy had found Loki's Sceptre and the Avengers went to get it. All sorts of shit happened after that. If he's the one who brought us here, maybe he knows how to get us back."

Seb is grinning at him, now. What? he wants to ask. Not just a pretty face, bro.

"If the Avengers got it the last time, maybe we can do it again," Steve says, lost in thought. "Maybe if we ask Tony-"

"No!" Chris and Seb speak at the same time, like a chorus, but it turns out they didn't need to. Steve is stuck on something Seb wrote and underlined twice, and which Chris can read upside down: "Tony Stark creates Ultron – this is bad!"

"It's not just Ultron – who's a fuckin' killer robot, by the way – it's the effect the staff and the twins have on Tony," Seb mumbles, and then covers his mouth. "Shit. I forgot about the twins."

"You're forgetting that the Winter Soldier killed Tony's parents," Chris says, mildly, and then wishes he could take them back.

"So it was him they sent," Steve says, his voice tired.

Sam is drumming his fingers on the table. "He had no way of saying no, Steve. He wasn't even him anymore."

"Tell me, Sebastian," Steve says, and Chris wants to stop him right there. Seb looks star-struck, in a 'Captain America just said my name!' way. "How understanding was Tony when he found out?"

Seb shrugs. "The third Cap movie is subtitled 'Civil War,' he answers, with a rueful look. "To be fair, it was kind of sprung on him, in a suspiciously clear and multi-angled security video."

"Yeah, but you were right about the twins, Seb." All this is starting to come back to Chris, now.

For the last few years he's been too caught up with the whole Infinity Gems shitshow, and Thanos, and so on (call him chicken, if you like, but he's only watched Infinity War once, and he actually closed his eyes as soon as Seb said "Steve?", so he didn't have to see it happen. He's not sure why, though), so he's forgotten how much trouble Wanda caused with her mind stuff. If none of that happened, well, maybe Sokovia and all that crap didn't need to happen here.

Chris comes back to the present, and sees a look of polite inquiry on his double's face. "Um. There's these two – they're teenagers, really – their family was killed by Stark weapons, so they let themselves be turned into weapons by Hydra. But they're not bad people – just-"

"Lost," Steve says, and he's looking towards his bedroom as he speaks. "Why would they help you, though? Or us?"

"Because they don't really know what's going on, and they think the Avengers are the bad guys." Seb answers him, and Chris knows he should be taking point here, but Seb's doing just fine. "Also, if things happen like they did in the movies, Pietro, the brother, will die. I'm sure that Wanda will do anything to prevent that."

Chris wants to add something clever, maybe something like a line from the movie ("he's fast and she's weird"), but when he opens his mouth, what comes out is a huge, potentially jaw-cracking yawn.

"Wow, that was – " he yawns again, unable to even keep his eyes open.

"Delayed reaction, dude," Sam says.

Chris doesn't think the beer helped, either. Steve tells him to take the couch, or the armchair, and Chris just falls into the first comfortable thing he sees, trying to forget that he's pretty sure Nick Fury was shot in it. He dozes off, waking up from time to time, catching snatches of a conversation between Seb and Steve.

"So, yeah, Tony wants to solve all the world's problems by creating Ultron – but maybe if Wanda never messes up his brain, he won't want to-"

"I don't understand – she's a witch? Like, magic is real?"

"It's a thing, with comic book IPs and shit – let's just say it's science fiction and leave it at that-"

"I don't know if Thanos has the same intentions here, or if the Infinity Gems are even a thing, but just in case they are, here's the thing-"

Chris swims upwards through a deep, dreamless sleep – what really wakes him is a patch of sunlight on his hand, which is hanging over the armrest of the chair he's in. He wants to open his eyes, but it feels like they're being weighed down. He can still hear, though, and Scarlett Johansson's whisky-soaked voice is unmistakable – no, not Scarlett. Not Scarlett at all.

"It's remarkable. The resemblance. I mean, the hair is darker, and he looks . . . older somehow. Still."

Chris hears heavy footsteps, like someone is moving clumsily on purpose, to be heard.

"Widow."

"Soldier."

A groan, which is very familiar, because it's his own voice he's hearing.

"No, no, no! Bucky, this is Natasha, my good friend. Nat, this is my friend Bucky."

"I'm sorry I shot you." A pause. "Twice."

Chris makes a supreme effort, and practically pries his eyes open. Seb is lying full length on the couch opposite, snoring. He finally dares look in the direction of the supersoldiers and spy – fuck. Black Widow is fuckin' scary. Beautiful. But deadly. A snuffle from the couch draws his attention – Seb twitches, and kicks.

Steve breaks the silence. "I think he's dreaming."

"Yeah," Chris answers, and gets up, trying to straighten his back without looking too much like the youngest guy at the retirement home. No shit, he looks older, 'cause he is older than Steve Rogers, who is always going to be in his mid to late twenties. He pats Seb on the shoulder, and he blinks awake, eyes wide.

"Hey man, we got company."

Seb gets up, easier than Chris did, and there's another round of introductions. Before long, they're sitting around a table with coffees and bagels, courtesy of Natasha. Sam went to check on his apartment, so it's just the five of them. Chris is halfway through his second bagel when Natasha produces a couple of passports, which, opened, are theirs. Under their own names, even.

"Fuck, man! How long have we been asleep?"

Seb laughs, a low puff of air, nothing like his usual chuckle. "I gave them some photos off our phones; but yeah, this is really fast. Amazing."

Chris wonders if he's still asleep, dreaming all this. "Why do we need passports, though?"

Steve nods at Natasha. Seems like it's her mission, too.

"We've located the Hydra base in Sokovia – it's a medieval fortress – and we've hardly done any recon; Steve told me that it didn't go well in your . . . movie?"

She looks pretty skeptical, but open to being convinced.

Seb shakes his head. "Don't look at me – I wasn't even in this one."

Chris rubs his face – it's not like he doesn't remember Ultron, it's just that so much of it was fuckin' greenscreen. The longest stretch was on Clint's farm . . . wait, wait. Natasha was the only one who knew about the farm. No-one else knew a damn thing. That's the way to convince her.

"This happens later on in the movie – we'll talk about the attack later, if you don't kill me first, haha – but at one point the Avengers are up shit creek, and need a place to hide out."

Natasha raises an eyebrow, and Chris isn't sure if it means he should go on, or if it means that she's keeping her options open as to the whole killing thing. Both? Yeah, let's go with both.

"Clint Barton has a wife and kids on a farm somewhere," Chris says it very fast, hoping to get it out before she garrotes him or something.

Steve is shook. That's the only way Chris can describe it, though he'll never say it out loud. Natasha is pretty thrown, he can tell because of the slight narrowing of her eyes (he's perceptive like that).

Bucky is nose deep in his fourth bagel, and his shoulders shake slightly. He mumbles something; Chris isn't sure, but it sounds like "Shakh i mat, Natashenka."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Your accent is terrible."

Bucky shrugs. "I'm not actually from Russia."

Steve's face is just . . . full of joy, he's painfully open, and Chris wishes he could learn to hide his feelings and teach Steve the technique.

"Fine. You've convinced me. Now tell me why the attack on Strucker went wrong."

"Ok," Chris starts. "Ok." He's had time to think about it, himself. He thinks he realises what went sideways – he knows it had to be like that, to be the inciting incident for the creation of Ultron, but maybe they could, you know, not do that, this time?

"So, it's a full-frontal assault, with the Hulk, Thor, Iron Man, Cap, Hawkeye and you, Black Widow. There's no sneak attack, nothing. As far as I can remember, the tactics were just 'bash on their defenses until something gives.'"

"Bozhe moi!" Wow, Natasha really does say it, Chris thinks. "And I was ok with this . . . bashing?"

"You were front and center with it," Chris says, "literally. There was this really amazing shot of all of us, from the side, in slo-mo . . . very cool."

Natasha gives him some very Russian stink-eye, and Bucky just shakes his head.

"Pfft," Seb says.

Chris widens his eyes theatrically. "Did you just 'pfft' my amazing side shot?"

"Yes. I did." Seb smiles wider than he has in a while. "I guess you forgot: 'language!'"

"Ugh." Chris buries his face in his hands, not before he glimpses Steve, Natasha and Bucky exchanging puzzled looks. He sighs. Best get this one out of the way. "The running joke in Age of Ultron was that Cap doesn't like people who curse – Tony says 'shit', and Cap says . . . you know . . . "

Steve is mouthing along like he doesn't believe what he's hearing, and Barnes snickers even more. "I guess no-one heard you turn the air blue that time some pencil pusher tried to transfer Gabe to a segregated unit, huh, Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head. "Guess not, Buck."

Bucky is getting more and more of these lucid moments, Chris notices, which are then followed by a sort of switching off, like his Winter Soldier persona is fighting back. His face goes blank with scary speed, and he gets up and stands by the window. Steve gives him a worried look, but turns back to Chris.

"Anyway, what we need is a sneak infiltration," Chris goes on, "not some full attack, maybe someone going undercover, getting to talk to Wanda."

Natasha and Steve exchange looks, and Bucky turns away from the window.

"You don't need anyone to pretend to be Hydra. You've got me. If they think I'm coming in, they won't be suspicious. I can tell them all the American bases went dark, so I headed for Strucker. I'll need to bring something with me, though."

"Yeah," Seb says, "I've been thinking about that."

Chris is swamped by a wave of horror so great, he can hardly breathe. No, Seb can't be saying what it sounds like. Why does he even raise this possibility? They're not superheroes, they're just actors, what the fuck is Seb thinking? Seb isn't even looking at him. He's tearing a bagel into pieces, then smaller pieces, then crumbs.

"I'm thinking that bringing us here wasn't an accident," Seb says, as if he heard the question Chris was screaming in his head. "That Strucker thought he could, I don't know, destabilize the Avengers somehow, or find out about their future, something, who knows. If the Fist of Hydra comes back with me in tow, maybe he'll think his plan worked."

"Seb, no! What the fuck, man?" Chris feels tears pricking at his eyes, the closest he's been to crying since this whole shitshow started. "What if he just kills you, what then?"

Seb rolls his eyes. "Don't you want to go home? 'Cos I want to go home, man. There's no other way."

"Tony Stark-"

"That's not a solution, Chris!" Seb is annoyed, now. "Even if we can persuade him to help without creating, oh, I don't know, a frickin' world-ending murder robot, he's not the one who brought us here."

"You're putting a lot of trust in Rumlow; what if he was wrong?" Chris wants to take the name back as soon as he says it. Steve is shaking his head, and he's getting identical Winter Soldier glares from two different sources.

He tries to start a clumsy apology, patting Seb's shoulder. Seb shrugs his hand off with an irritated gesture.

"Don't treat me like a victim, dude. Not cool."

"So take me to them. Or take me with you, either . . . what? Why won't that work?" Chris is seriously close to losing it now.

"You're the copy of their greatest enemy." Barnes is talking now, and Chris takes back everything nice he ever said about the dude. Fuck that guy. "If there's someone they'll kill on sight, it's you. And if this works, we'll need to get out of there, fast. Maybe possible with just one civilian. Not with two."

Chris gets it, he does. He'll only be a liability. But this is . . . it's shit, that's what it is. He buries his face in his hands, mostly to hide the fact that yeah, he really is crying now. This time, it's Seb who's got a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. Come on, Chris, come on. Get your shit together. Be a man. Fuck.

He rubs his eyes, angry that he's let his guard down so badly. He glares at Barnes where he's standing in front of the window. It's hard to really make out his expression, with the sun behind him like that. "You fucking get him back, d'you hear me? You get him out of there."

Barnes nods, face solemn, arms crossed.

"Come on, Chris." Seb's got an arm around his neck. "It'll all turn out well."

What the hell is he saying? "How?"

"I don't know. It's a mystery."

What the – "Motherfucker. Did you just 'Shakespeare in Love' me? Not fucking cool, bro." He's caught between laughter and wanting to punch him.

Seb produces his best Bucky Barnes pre-war smirk, even though Chris can see that he's teary-eyed too.

"I'm sorry, I don't know any relevant Disney songs – nope. Don't even go there, Evans."

"I guess my word-perfect rendition of 'Under the Sea' will be saved for another occasion."

"Guess again, crab-boy."

Steve, Natasha and Bucky have been giving them a little privacy while they hash this out, and Chris realizes that this is going to happen. He doesn't like it, he's scared out of his mind, but there's nothing he can do.

It hits Chris like that time he almost concussed himself when he mistimed a stunt – he needs Sebastian. He loves Sebastian. He might even be in love with Sebastian. And this is where he finds out. Stuck in some kind of fictional construct made real, which might be the death of them both. He is so fucked.

oOo

Notes

Lots of references to things that happened in MCU movies, specifically Age of Ultron.

Also, gratuitous quoting from Shakespeare in Love, a bit of dialogue which I have always adored.

Character A: It'll turn out alright!

Character B: How?

Character A: I don't know. It's a mystery!

I usually hate using google translate, but decided I needed a way for someone to tease Natasha; According to the Internet, shakh i mat means checkmate.