All rights are marvel's, I own nothing. Well that's not true, I own a car and a laptop and a bed... but you know what I mean. I love these characters and the story that brought them together once again.
"Is this normal? It's October!" Captain America said as he tapped the steering wheel repeatedly with his right hand. The wipers were going at full-tilt and Steve was leaning as close to the window as he could, trying to see through the swirling snowstorm.
The dark figure sitting in the passenger seat said nothing. He was sitting back in his seat as far as he could, his arms were crossed and his shoulders hunched. He was staring out the front window through his long hair, but Steve had felt the passenger's eyes on him from time to time. The two men had said little to each other, just enough to agree that Minsk should be their destination. Steve's friend Sam Wilson was waiting for them there.
They had been driving through the night. The trip from the Polish border to Minsk, Belarus should have taken three and a half hours at the most. They were entering the fourth hour and were little more than half way there. The blizzard left much to be desired in terms of tire traction and visibility. Not to mention the two men were cramped into a tiny, two door, Russian make that had to be at least 20 years old. Steve had picked up the abandoned automobile behind a grocery store outside of Kiev. He now thought he should have left it there.
Steve settled back into his seat and glanced sidelong at his former friend. Steve knew desperation was the only reason this man had come out of the shadows and approached him. Both of them where men out of their own time, but their situations couldn't be more different. Steve wasn't even sure who the man even was, how had the past 70 years changed the boy he grew up with.
"What should a call you?" Steve asked quietly, he knew that they needed talk, now seemed as good a time as any, "You don't like it when I use 'Bucky.' and 'Winter Soldier' is a mouthful."
Bucky leaned his head against his window and made a grumbly noise deep in his throat, "'Bucky' seems… taken. The only thing I have in common with Bucky Barnes is a face. The agents I worked with called me 'soldier' or 'the asset.'"
"Those aren't names, those are descriptions. I can't say 'Hey, Asset pass me the salt,' people might look at me weird." Steve smiled wryly, but his humor was answered by silence.
The wind picked up outside, blowing the snow sideways across the windshield. Steve fought with the wheel, mumbling under his breath about weather that wouldn't stay in its own season. The wheels spun under the car, looking for traction as the car fought its way up a hill.
"I could push, but I'd have to do it on every hill until we reach Minsk," the soldier said quietly, "Pull over there and wait until the morning." He pointed to a closed down gas station.
Steve turned the wheel and tried to get the car into the empty lot, but in the end the car still needed a push. The engine sighed with exhaustion when Steve finally shut it down.
Steve pulled blankets from the back seat and offered one to his quiet partner as he brushed the snow from his shoulder. He declined the towel with a shake of his head, he spoke up, "'Bucky' is a nickname anyway and the name I was born with was 'James' right?"
"Yes, But you only used it in the military. You were named for your grandfather, your mother's father." As Steve spoke he drew out the Barnes family tree on the steering wheel, pointing to the individuals as he spoke. Desperate for something to talk about, he began to ramble, "Your middle name, 'Buchanan,' was someone's maiden name, think it might have been your father's moth—no she was a Jones, cause her brother lived over by prospect park and he was Frankie Jones. So that name must have been you mother's mother's maiden name."
The individual in question stared at Steve, "How do you know?"
"I've known you since I was seven," Steve replied. As he spoke he fought with his seat, trying to lean it back, it fought him every inch, but finally locked into place halfway back. "When you know someone that long you end up knowing everything about them. My dad died when I was young, your mom when you were young, we made up for our losses through each other's family."
"Oh… For now… call me James." He pulled his jacket closer around him, the heat was fading fast.
"I can do that, James. And would you take the damn blanket!" Steve shoved the rolled up bundle into James' lap. He took the blanket, tucked it around him and set his head against the window.
They both watched the snow falling in sheets around the car. The car was too cramped, the weather too cold, and the situation too uncomfortable for either of them to get any sleep. They settled in for a long night.
The snowy clouds were starting to lighten when Steve spoke again, quietly. "What do you remember?"
Steve thought his passenger was asleep when no answer came right away, but after a pause James spoke, "More and more every day, but nothing that I can put together, just flashes, images."
"Like?"
"Different labs, like the one back there. Standing outside a church watching three men enter. Sparing with a teenage girl, no older that 12 or 13. Running toward a nuclear power-plant. Watching a train on the side of a mountain. Sniping from the roof of a building. Getting shot point blank in the stomach by an African woman. And waking up in a coffin, it must have been the the cryo-freeze chamber, but I remember waking up and thinking I was in a coffin." James looked at Steve, "Does any of that make sense to you?"
"Tell me about the train." Steve's heart was in his throat with anticipation.
"Er, I'm standing on a cliff face watching a train across a ravine, its snowy. There are people standing around me talking, I was scared about the height of the cliff over the ravine."
Steve was silent for a long time, he sighed and shifted in his seat.
"Yeah, that was with me. We were going to cross the ravine—" Steve stopped suddenly when the gears of his seat finally came loose, the back collapsed against the rear seat with a thump. Steve cursed as he fought with it, now that the gears were loosened it wouldn't even stay upright, it just flopped back down again. He stopped when he heard a sound beside him. James was watching him struggle with the seat and shaking quietly, holding back laughter. Steve grinned and James finally let the laughter out. Leaning forward he buried his face in his hands and shook his head back and forth.
"I'm glad you find it funny." Steve said with chagrin, he flopped down onto the now flat chair. James lowered his seat back all the way to join his partner and put his hands behind his head.
"I fell didn't I, I fell into the ravine."
"Yeah. I tried to reach you, but you still fell, we assumed you were dead, it was a 500 foot drop. What I wouldn't give if I could just go back and tell myself that you survived the fall."
"Maybe I should be glad I can't remember all the mistakes I've made. Maybe knowing what I've done isn't worth the pain." He sat up and watched as a snow-plow rumbled past in the morning light, the snow had slowed to flurries. "But I guess if I don't learn about my mistakes, I won't ever get a chance to learn from them." He lay back down and flexed his metal hand in front of his face, "maybe I can even fix some of them."
"See James, I knew you still deserved the name 'Bucky'" The Captain said sleepily.
The sun broke through the cold clouds as Steve and Bucky fell asleep.
