Chapter 2: This Seems Familiar

Adapting to the superhero business was easier than he thought it would be. Guns blazing on the battlefield, it was exactly the same adrenaline rush he got every time he faced down enemies.

He locked onto his targets. With skills that were second-nature, he shot both of them clean through their skulls before either could raise a gun to return fire. It didn't matter now that the sides had changed and he was technically playing for the good guys. The game was still the same. It was eerie just how similar it was to Bucky's past life as the Winter Soldier, the only current difference being that he wasn't playing solo.

His teammates were scattered in various areas around him. They were fighting a group of hired soldiers sent by a terrorist cell to capture or kill an undercover operative who'd escaped back to SHIELD and taken sensitive documents (and Bucky suspected, something more). They'd brought an unseemly amount of back up and were prepared to level the entire town to accomplish their mission. It all seemed a little like overkill for some missing files but Bucky wasn't going to be the first to claim to understand the inner workings of an evil terrorist organization.

Iron Man was flying high above, relaying enemy positions over the comms and directing the rest of the Avengers, while trying to limit the collateral damage. It seemed like a vain effort though, because the Hulk was currently smashing enemy units into nearby buildings and Thor had just called down lightning to topple a skyscraper onto an advancing squadron. It was a good thing that all of the civilians were already evacuated by this point.

Hawkeye was stationed near the perimeters, picking off strays and generally trying to box in the fighting. To Bucky's left, Black Widow and Captain America were teamed up and in close combat with about six of the enemy's foot soldiers.

This was the first assignment SHIELD sent him on and they clearly had no qualms about tossing him into the fray without so much as a few missions to ease into the role.

Fury had briefed the team eight hours ago before they shipped out, ending the talk by flashing Bucky a distinct look that said 'don't fuck this one up.' And Bucky wasn't planning to. He knew they were judging him based on his performance on this mission. If he showed any untoward moves, they'd have no problem sticking him back in a jail cell.

It was also the first opportunity to see how he worked in conjunction with the rest of the team. They hadn't said much to him as everyone suited up in the quinjet, just discussed the general plan of attack before their transport arrived at the drop zone. Bucky got the feeling they were uneasy about putting him back in the middle of fighting, should it trigger a relapse into his Winter Soldier persona, even if they'd more or less relaxed around his presence at the tower. Clint and Tony even cracked jokes with him on occasion.

None of that mattered because this was the make it or break it part. These people worked together as a whole. They placed their lives in each other's hands and no matter how chummy Bucky may get with them in the down time, he couldn't truly be one of them until he proved his worth on a mission together.

So he fought with all of the abilities in his arsenal. He wasn't about to disappoint any more people who were counting on him.

Bucky fired off the last two shots in his handgun before dropping behind a flipped police car to reload.

"Barnes, to your right. Seven incoming and heavily armed. Better watch out," relayed Tony through the comms.

"Roger that," replied Bucky.

With his enhanced senses, he could just make out the footfalls and shapes of the enemies through the thick bank of smoke wafting around the battlefield. They were headed straight in his direction. Bucky estimated that he had five, maybe six seconds before they spotted him. He could handle them head-on but something more tactical was preferable. SHIELD was watching and he didn't want to give them the impression that he was one to take unnecessary risks, especially when his reliability was still in question. He thought fast about how he could possibly ambush seven enemy soldiers.

He holstered his handgun and pulled out a remote detonation bomb. It was barely the size of his fist but Tony had designed it himself so Bucky trusted it would do the job. Quickly burying it in the ground behind the car, he hurriedly ran to take cover inside a blown-out diner ten meters away. Crouching down low, he peered out of one of the shattered windows. He unslung his rifle from across his back with his right hand and waited, the detonator grasped firmly in his left hand.

When he saw the first soldier approach the police car, opposite the side Bucky had been hiding, he pressed the detonator. For such a small bomb, the blast was deafening. The force behind it sent the car flying at the soldiers. The wreckage and shrapnel took out five enemies instantly.

Bucky dropped the used detonator and raised his rifle. Peering through the scope, he locked on to the two remaining, disoriented, men and took them both out with quick successive shots. They dropped like stones beside their fallen comrades. None of them had even been aware of his presence before he wiped them out. It was a perfectly executed plan.

Tony seemed to realize it, too, because he whistled appreciatively in his earpiece. "Damn, Barnes. That was smooth."

Bucky allowed himself a small smirk before he quipped back. "Well, you tend to pick up a thing or two after seventy years of doing this kind of work."

He heard Tony bark a laugh in return.

"Well it doesn't seem like you two are very busy, so you wanna lend me a hand here?" Steve interjected. "Kinda ran into something unexpected. Some help wouldn't go amiss."

"Whatever you say, Cap, buddy," Tony responded. "Just hang tight, I'll be there in—oh shit, Steve, get out of there, now!"

Not good.

Bucky whipped the scope around to where he'd last seen Steve. He located him by some rubble, separated from Natasha and surrounded by about five enemies.

"I can't!" said Steve.

What the hell was Steve doing? Bucky was confused. Why wasn't he immediately breaking away?

Half a second later, he saw why. Cradled in Steve's arms was a small child, maybe three or four years old, bloodied and crying. Damn it, so that's what he'd meant about 'something unexpected.' Steve couldn't fight to his fullest with a child clinging to him. SHIELD had undeniably fucked up when they were doing evac earlier. What was worse, Bucky could see the source of Tony's alarm standing on top of a nearby building, getting ready to aim a rocket launcher right at Captain America. Bucky understood immediately that the ones crowded around Steve were meant to keep him from escaping. They were willing to sacrifice five of their own to take out Captain America.

The situation wasn't good and Steve was in deep trouble.

Natasha was too far away and engaged with her own set of enemies. Even if she broke through now, she couldn't take out the ones surrounding Steve and escape before the man on top of the building fired.

Clint was still positioned at the edge of the city and Bucky had no idea where the Hulk or Thor was. He could see Tony whipping in as fast as he could but was still too far away to take an accurate shot.

So all that left was Bucky.

The man steadied the launcher. Bucky had maybe a second and a half before the he pulled the trigger. Damn it. He wasn't even at a good vantage point to take out a target up high. But he still had to try.

Quickly, drawing upon all his years of experience as an assassin and a sniper, Bucky fired his rifle. The angle was poor and any ordinary marksman would have shot way off mark. But Bucky wasn't ordinary. He'd made enough difficult shots in his lifetime to know what he was doing.

The bullet lodged itself in the left shoulder of his target a split second before the man launched the missile. It wasn't a killing shot but it didn't have to be. The man yelped in pain and surprise, the missile firing wide of its intended target. He didn't have time to recover for a second try before Iron Man made it onto the scene and blasted the bastard off the roof. Not wasting any time, he then shot down to street level, firing repulsor shots to scatter the soldiers surrounding Captain America.

Once Steve had his breathing room back, Bucky saw him nod at Tony.

"Thanks," said Steve, as he soothed the frightened child in his arms.

Iron Man shrugged. "Wasn't me. Barnes saved you."

Steve paused. "Bucky…?"

"Guy's a regular crack shot."

Steve smiled. "That he is." Speaking into earpiece he said, "thanks, Bucky."

Bucky grunted in reply. "You can thank me later."

After that, the rest was relatively easy-going. They fought for a short while longer before the remaining forces decided it was smarter to just cut their losses and retreat. Bucky was left standing in the middle of a relatively deserted battlefield, an empty gun in one hand, a knife in the other, still coming off the battle high. It was probably partially the imitation serum's doing. So far, he'd never found anything that gave him the same type of euphoria that fighting did. It was a silent reminder that part of him still enjoyed this, still wanted this.

He took his time surveying the damage as his breathing steadied and his heartbeat slowed. Steve informed them that he'd radioed SHIELD and they would be here any minute with the clean-up crew and their transport.

He imagined that his performance on this mission, doubtlessly recorded by SHIELD, would be more than enough to ease Fury and the Council's wariness of him. He'd performed stunningly. Every attack and ambush was executed perfectly. Every bullet found its mark. He'd even pulled off that brilliantly coordinated save with Iron Man to get Captain America out of some deep shit. There would be no question about his ability to work as part of this team from this mission onwards.

Wasn't that a victory in itself? He should be happy. The chance Steve took in helping free him now meant that Bucky had a place in the world again. Wasn't that worth celebrating?

He scanned the wreckage of the city again, wanting to preserve this first turning-point mission in his mind as clearly as he could, when he caught sight of a group of dead HYDRA soldiers and it triggered a flood of memories from his Winter Soldier days. He froze as the images assaulted his mind, his previous elation instantly forgotten.

He was standing on a similar battlefield, exhausted but victorious, smirking in satisfaction even as the soles of his boots were stained red from the blood of the corpses around him. His partner for that mission had fumbled and blown their cover, paying for the mistake with his life. The Winter Soldier had been annoyed, but it wasn't a huge setback. Instead, he'd lured the men into a trap. The bomb exploded or maimed most of the soldiers, after which he finished off the survivors with either his gun or his knife. He hadn't even given a second thought to mowing down the defenceless men; even as the ones who managed to speak before he'd shoved a knife into their throat begged him for their lives.

In his mind, Bucky watched the Winter Soldier wipe his bloodied blade on the shirt of the last soldier. The blade was sheathed and the Soldier walked unperturbed through the mess of corpses.

Their glassy-eyed looks hadn't bothered him in the slightest. They weren't people, his training told him, just targets. He wasn't supposed to empathize with them. He wasn't supposed to empathize at all.

But now it was different—the same, yet so different. The programming was gone and he could feel again. He could feel the dead watching him, felt their permanently frozen gaze judging him.

Of course he'd killed plenty of people in his lifetime, even back during the war. But that was another situation where he took no enjoyment out of the senseless violence, only did what had to be done. It was nothing like this mission, where the scent of gunpowder and smoke was so intoxicating he nearly hadn't wanted the battle to end.

It was all so wrong.

It no longer felt like a perfect victory.

The dead wouldn't stop looking at him with those condemning eyes.

Bucky clutched his head and swayed on his feet. The gun and the knife were dropped. The high was gone and—Oh God, he suddenly wanted to be sick.

He couldn't believe he'd stood there basking in his aftermath of his kills. And shit, he didn't even have the brainwashing to blame this time when he started to enjoy the battle. What the hell was he doing? This wasn't any different than being the Winter Soldier and serving the Red Room. How could he ever have let Fury talk him into using his skills like this again?

Nothing had changed. He was still a killer, just doing the exact same job under new pretences. He needed to stop this. He needed to get out of here. He needed to take his gun and put a bullet in his head before—

"Stop," said a familiar voice, gently.

It was enough to rouse him from his spiralling thoughts. He hadn't realized that he was clutching his head with both heads, or that he was trembling.

"Stop," the voice came again, softer, and Bucky turned to see Natasha standing beside him, her hand pressed lightly on his arm.

"Natalia…I just…do you ever…have you ever asked yourself why you're doing this? I thought this would be different, but it isn't, is it?" The words came out without him meaning them to. Weeks of being unable to say a single thing about his feelings to Steve and a moment in Natasha's presence had him confessing his entire inner turmoil, right here. He could say this to her because he knew she understood and with her, he didn't feel like he was being judged. Because she was broken, just like him.

"It is different," she replied, and he looked at her questioningly. She turned and pinned him with her blue eyes which told Bucky she was reading him clear as day. "James. Never forget why we fight. The Red Room never gave us a reason. We were only tools to them and we followed orders and killed whoever they told us to. This is different. These people aren't innocents, James."

"And that makes it okay?"

"Maybe not. But a lot worse will happen if we don't kill them. More than that, we have options now. We can choose to fight, and we can choose why we fight."

"And why do you fight?" he asked.

"To protect those I care about," she replied without hesitation, "and because I believe what I'm doing makes a difference. By protecting people and saving lives, I can atone for some of the wrongs I committed. Wipe away some of the red."

"So is that all this is? Redemption?"

"For me it is." She withdrew her hand from his arm. "You have to decide if that's enough for you. It's dangerous for people like us to not know what we're fighting for."

It was late in the evening when all of them were finally cleared to go home, after SHIELD decided they were properly debriefed. Bucky had been right. After confirming the success of the mission, Fury gave Bucky a stiff nod of approval and said that the Council had reviewed his performance and granted permission for Bucky to be taken off probationary status and placed on active Avengers duty.

Clint clapped him on the back and whooped, "nice going." Steve flashed him a supportive grin. Natasha's expression was more unreadable but she didn't look disapproving. Bruce offered him a polite "congratulations". Thor loudly proposed that they have a toast in his honour once the team congregated back at the Tower, leading Tony to mutter something about a celebration, which in retrospect, Bucky should have paid more attention to as a warning.

They disbanded as soon as they arrived at the Tower and the first thing Bucky did after he locked the door to his suite behind him was head for the shower, tossing his dirtied clothes haphazardly on the floor as he made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once there, he turned the nozzle on hotter than he needed it to be and stood beneath the slightly scalding water. God, it felt so good on his tense muscles. This is what he needed right now, just time by himself to reflect on his conflicted feelings.

"You have to decide if that's enough for you." Natasha's words rang in his head.

Was it enough? Bucky asked himself.

As an Avengers, his duties were—in Fury's own words—to protect those that can't protect themselves. To fight the battles that they couldn't. It was more complicated but it was better, because Natasha was right and he could choose whether or not to fight, to kill.

"It's dangerous for people like us to not know what we're fighting for." Those were her words.

And he still needed a reason.

Could he be like her? Fighting for some shred of redemption?

A man had once told him that "suicide was the coward's way out." Even if Bucky killed himself as an act of justice, it wouldn't right all the wrongs. One death didn't balance out hundreds. No, he needed to make amends and he could only do that by living with the weight of this burden.

Bucky blinked. The water was cooler now. He'd been standing there longer than he realized. Quickly, he washed his hair, detangling the knots from the battlefield dust and god-knows-what. It was too long, just brushing his shoulders. Bucky filed it somewhere in the back of his head that he should go get it cut some time soon. He scrubbed the rest of himself down and rinsed under the rapidly-cooling water.

He was just towelling off when there came a loud pounding on his door, followed by a muffled shout that sounded like Tony.

"Sergeant Barnes, it would seem that the entire Avengers team is currently gathered outside your door," announced JARVIS, suddenly.

"What's the problem? We being called into the field again?" asked Bucky. Bucky was still not entirely comfortable with the AI butler. It felt weird addressing a disembodied voice coming from the speaker in his ceiling.

"No, sir. It would appear that they are here to celebrate your newly-minted official status as an Avenger," replied JARVIS.

"The hell?!" exclaimed an incredulous Bucky. He rushed into his bedroom and quickly threw on a pair of clean pants, forgoing a shirt in his haste. All the while, someone—most likely Tony—was still pounding loudly on his door.

Bucky exited the bedroom and strode towards the door. Somewhere behind it, Tony yelled, "open up, Barnes, we know you're in there!" as the knocking grew more insistent.

Bucky sighed, and unlocked the door. He blinked a few times at the bizarre scene that greeted him. The entire team was there, bearing pizzas and various takeout foods as well as a ridiculous amount of alcohol. They were smiling at him. Tony was even holding balloons. Where the fuck had he gotten balloons?

"Can I help you?" Bucky said slowly.

Tony raised an eyebrow as he eyed Bucky's shirtless and damp form before shoving him out of the doorway and into the living room. He walked in like he was the one who lived here and the rest of the team trailed in after him. Once inside, Tony let go of the strings in his hand and the balloons rose up to bob along Bucky's ceiling.

Bucky just stared at them, and then at the gathered Avengers in his living room, wondering what the hell they were doing. His living room was small and nothing like the large common room eight floors down so it was kind of a tight fit. Thor alone seemed to take up a quarter of the space.

"So, what are you all doing here?" asked Bucky.

Tony was currently sprawled casually over the sofa loveseat. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to explain, but Thor beat him to it.

"My friend, we are here to celebrate your investiture as one of our team," Thor announced proudly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I've been part of the Avengers for weeks," Bucky informed Thor like the latter was an idiot.

"Yeah," Clint butted in, "but that was trial stuff. It's official now."

"We did not throw you a proper celebration when you first arrived, you'll have to forgive us. The circumstances at the time did not permit us to trust you so easily, but you have proved your valour and allegiance in battle today, such that Fury has deemed you worthy of our cause. We thought it appropriate to honour your efforts with food, drink, and merriment," Thor added.

"So, a party."

"That's what it looks like," Bruce chipped in. He smiled supportively.

"How'd you even get all this stuff? We just got back."

Steve answered. "Not sure what you've been doing, but we've been back for more than an hour, Buck. Tony got the idea and had JARVIS make the preparations and call in the food on the quinjet."

"Yeah, and I was gearing up to surprise you and everything in the lobby but you snuck off too soon." Tony shrugged. "So the rest of us just cleaned up, waited for the food to get here, and twiddled our thumbs. Steve was going to call you down but I said 'screw that, let's bring the party to you' and so here we are." He gave a general sweep around the room.

Bucky didn't know what to say.

Thor frowned at Bucky's silence. "Are you not pleased? Perhaps Tony should have consulted you about the food?"

"No, no," Bucky all but stammered. He looked at Steve for some assistance.

Steve grinned at him in a way that said 'just go with it.' "You deserve it. Consider it thanks for saving my butt out in the field today."

"It wasn't really—" Bucky started.

Tony cut him off. "Stop selling yourself short, soldier, you're a regular hero now, just like us. You know what," he said to the rest of the room, "I got it. Let's all take a moment to appreciate Barnes kicking ass. JARVIS, pull up footage of Barnes saving Cap's ass from today's battle."

"Sir, I'm afraid I was not instructed to record the events that transpired today," replied JARVIS.

"Then hack Nick Fury's computer and get it."

"Yes, sir."

Nobody seemed even mildly concerned that Tony's AI was breaking into the nation's top secret intelligence agency. Half a minute later, Bucky's disused 60" TV (Tony insisted one be installed in everyone's living quarters) flared to life.

They all gathered close, somehow managing to squeeze onto and around the single couch in his living room (Tony still had possession of the loveseat), even if it left Clint perched on the armrest, Natasha practically in Steve's lap, and Thor leaning on top of the couch, leaving Bucky squeezed in-between Steve-Natasha and Bruce.

The TV played an aerial recording of Bucky making the impossible shot that bought just enough time for Iron Man to zip in and take out the enemy (Tony made a comment about how they'd be hopelessly lost without him). Clint muttered an appreciative "shit, Barnes" when he saw the bullet hit home and Bucky proudly took the compliment.

When JARVIS ended the playback, they clapped Bucky on the back, exclaiming about his split-second decision and unbelievable aim, joking that maybe it was time Hawkeye took some lessons from him. Clint pretended to take offence at that but couldn't quite manage to keep the good humour out of his voice.

Laughing, they told JARVIS to replay the entire battle from the beginning. They chuckled at the sight of Iron Man flying into a low-hanging billboard sign while dodging fire. They giggled like children at seeing the normally dignified Black Widow take a rather ungraceful fall.

All the while, they passed food and drink amongst themselves as if watching a movie, which this sort of counted as. They made jokes when their on-screen selves messed up in a particularly humorous way because in many ways, this was team bonding. When you faced life or death on a daily basis, it no longer had the same effect on you. So they re-watched the entire battle and laughed off their close calls and minor scrapes.

Even when the video ended and it was late into the night, nobody left. It might have been one drink too many, but Bucky swore that it felt just like 1943 again and he was sitting around a campfire with the Howling Commandos, trading jokes and good-natured insults. He looked over at Steve, with his head on Natasha's shoulder, eyes half-lidded with sleep but still laughing at their jokes. He saw a fondness in Steve's expression that told him that maybe, Steve feels that way too.

Bucky smiled and it had nothing to do with the funny story Tony was recounting.

And maybe, this also felt like belonging.