In the Stark Industries airplane on the way to Bangladesh, Bucky took out the gear Tony gave him. He plugged in the earpiece and heard a female voice say, "Hello, Sergeant Barnes. It's good to be able to talk to you finally."
Bucky kept his voice low, to not disturb a sleeping Bruce in the couch at the front of the cabin. "Thank you. Call me James, though. It'll help me get used to it out in the world."
"Of course, James."
The voice was slightly different than he recalled hearing in Stark's building. "Am I speaking to Friday?"
"My name is not Friday."
"What would you like to be called? Otherwise, you're just the lady inside my head."
"You may call me Lady."
Bucky let out a soft laugh. "Alright, that'll work. Lady, would you please give me a rundown on the Kutupalong refugee camp."
"I'm happy to help you, James. Kutupalong is located in the southernmost region of Bangladesh and is the world's largest refugee camp…"
By the time the plane landed, Bucky had a handle on the grim situation on the ground. "Thank you, Lady."
"You're welcome."
"Did you get any sleep?" Bruce stretched in his seat towards the front of the plane. They hadn't spoken since the very beginning of the flight from New York, and Banner's undemanding manner had put Bucky right at easy.
"Nah, but I don't need much sleep."
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Bucky grabbed his backpack and followed Bruce to deplane. Bruce stopped before descending to the tarmac and turned to Bucky. "Um, call me David in front of everyone."
"First name or last name?"
Bruce reached out his right hand. "Dr. David Banner. Nice to meet you."
Bucky chuckled and shook his hand. "James Grant. Not a doctor. What can I do to help?"
The first few days, Bucky helped wherever needed the most: reinforcing tents, delivering water and food, guard duty. About a week into their stay, while delivering medical supplies to Bruce's workspace, Bucky saw a little girl who was missing a right arm. She was sitting with an older woman and man, and Bruce was explaining prosthetics options to them. The fear on the little girl's face reached somewhere deep inside Bucky, who walked over and took off the glove on his left hand. The little girl's eyes widened. Then Bucky pulled up his left sleeve and slowly placed his arm in reach of the little girl, who timidly touched it. He murmured some of the phrases he'd picked up over the last week, ones that meant my name is James and what's your name and it'll be okay and you're doing great. The adults stood up, still talking to Bruce, but the little girl hugged Bucky around his waist, and he gently patted her head with his vibranium hand.
Once they were alone, Bruce said, "You're really good with kids."
"Spent a lot of time with them in Wakanda."
"Did you have much experience before?"
Memories of a distant past flooded Bucky's mind. "I had sisters."
"Any family left?"
"Yeah, I've got some great-nieces and nephews around."
"Does your family know you're alive?"
Bucky shook his head. "I'm one hell of a secret to have to keep."
A sympathetic look flitted across Bruce's face. Bucky had no doubt that Bruce had made similar tough decisions since the Hulk because part of his life.
"Maybe assist me with the kids?" Bruce seemed embarrassed to ask. "My friend here who knows me, actually knows the big guy, sends a lot of children my way. He thinks it'll be easier for me to deal with, but I've never been great with kids and what has been done to them makes me so angry."
The refugee camp exposed humanity's breadth of injustice and brutality, enough to anger them both. After a particularly grueling day, Bruce called Bucky over to his tent. "I'm feeling a bit green around the edges. Mind hanging out with me for a while?"
Lady murmured in his ear, "I calculate an 85% probability that Dr. Banner just wants your company, but thinks you would refuse."
Bucky smiled at Bruce. "Sure. I could use some company myself."
The interior of Bruce's tent was a spartan as Bucky's - a twin bed, a desk and chair, and a chest to store belongings. There was a hint of lavender in the room, a soothing scent. Bucky wondered if Bruce used aromatherapy to relax.
"Tea?"
"Thank you."
A small generator powered minimal electricity to their quarters, enough to keep electronics charged and to run a hot plate and electric tea kettle. Bruce gestured for Bucky to take the desk chair.
"Sorry I don't have milk or sugar to offer you."
"No worries." Bucky looked at the mug of tea now in his hands. He didn't have tea preferences. Or maybe he would someday when he remembered he was allowed to have preferences at all.
Bruce sat down on the bed and took a sip of tea. His shoulders immediately loosened up. "So, how are you holding up here?"
Bucky smiled ruefully. "You think I, of all people, would understand the cruel and inhumane shit people do to each other, but I still find myself appalled most of the time."
"That just means you're human."
Lady whispered in his ear, "See, I told you. You're human, not a monster."
Bucky wondered if Lady would always be so chatty and focused his attention on Bruce. "How are you?"
"Frustrated that I can't do more."
"That bringing out the big guy a bit?"
"Just a little bit. Mostly it's the doctor part of me that's angry."
Bucky felt a kinship with Bruce. He also thought of himself as being a good man, or at least having been one before World War II trained him to kill and Hydra wielded him as a weapon. Bruce was a gentle and caring man, and the Hulk's deeds weighed upon him much as the Winter Soldier burdened Bucky.
He thought of the vials in his case. "If you had the ability to get rid of the big guy, would you?"
"No, not anymore. We're in a much better place than we used to be. He listens to me more, and I've started listening to him instead of resenting and resisting him." Bruce shook his head, sadness written all over his face. "I wish we'd gotten there earlier. Would have spared a lot of casualties."
"Well, I keep blaming myself for not breaking my chains sooner, so I understand."
Bruce stared at Bucky in disbelief. "What you accomplished was astonishing. I've seen some of the Hydra records. It took them years to break you, and to overcome that level of programming by yourself? It's miraculous, truly."
Steve was the miracle, Bucky thought. "I don't know that I'd have been able to break free without Steve. Seeing him just…"
Bucky was drawn back into his memories of Steve's face, his voice, the feel of his body under his hands as they'd fought that day. The Asset had never experienced familiarity before, and not just that, but the bond, the rightness of being with Steve, even as he tried to obey his programming.
"Thank goodness for super soldiers." Bruce broke into Bucky's reverie. He was disturbed by the hint of envy in Bruce's voice.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Banner, but I'm glad you didn't succeed. The world doesn't need more super soldiers."
"The serum is capable of so much more than that."
"But that will never be its intent. Steve signed up for it, for all the right reasons. But I woke up on a table, forever changed, without any consent to what happened to me. For what happened to me after."
"That wasn't your fault."
"I know that, or at least I try to believe that. But I'm still a weapon. The people who made me, who want more like me, will always look at the serum as a weapon."
"When you look around here, though, don't you wish these people had your healing powers?"
Bucky looked down at his hands, one flesh, one metal, clutching each other. "Do you know my enhanced memory capabilities means I remember every kill I made in excruciating detail? Their last words, the screams, …"
Bruce said, "I lose the details. I wake up confused, just knowing I did something bad."
"Shuri asked me if I wanted her to delete the memories, the bad ones. I kept them because I need to own what I did, to earn the right to keep the good memories."
"That must suck."
"It really does." But he could tell Bruce wasn't convinced yet that the serum was inherently a bad thing. Bucky paused to think of what he could possibly say to make Bruce understand. "Do you know I sometimes have to concentrate to feel pain? You could hit me over and over again, the green guy could, and I wouldn't feel it til later, possibly when it was too late to keep my injuries to a recoverable level."
"This voice in my head" he gestured to his earpiece "reminds me to eat. I'm a child of the Depression, I know hunger and deprivation, and most of the time, I still don't remember to eat. And I have to give myself permission to enjoy food. To taste it. To dislike cilantro and to savor chocolate ice cream. I have to remind myself how to want things."
To want things like… Bucky took a deep breath to ease his tension. "Do I wish folks could heal like me? Of course, I do. But what I've gone through…" Bucky gesticulated to the camp around them. "… what these people are going through show we're not ready yet. Someone will weaponize any form of this serum. That's the only thing in my life I'm sure of now that Steve is gone."
Bruce knew he'd lost the debate. "God, I wish I could argue against that, but I can't."
Seeking to reassure the very kind man across from him, Bucky said, "I know you'd only want to use it for good. This isn't a personal thing."
Waving Bucky's apology away, Bruce said, "I haven't pursued the serum in a long time. I promise I won't do it again."
"And if you hear about someone working on it?"
"I'll let you know."
"Thank you." Bucky drank the last of his tea. "For the tea and the company."
"This discussion didn't upset you?"
"Not at all." Bucky paused to figure out exactly what it was he was feeling. "It just reminded me I'm still scared all the time."
"Of what?"
"Of losing the control I've struggled to get back."
"I completely sympathize with that." Bruce stood up and smiled shyly at Bucky. "More tea?"
Bucky looked up at the man who probably understood him most now that Steve was gone. "That'd be great."
The men spent the rest of the evening talking about other random things, from the mundane to the sorts of things they couldn't talk about with anyone else. Food, music, the botany of Wakanda, meeting aliens and traveling through space. Bucky couldn't help but wonder at the weirdness of his new life.
As he walked back to his tent, Bucky held an imaginary conversation with Steve in his head. You were right. Banner is a good guy. Had a nice chat with him. Wish you could have been there.
"You miss Captain Rogers." Lady popped into his thoughts.
"I'll never stop."
"It'll get easier in time."
"Nah." Bucky entered his tent and sat down on his bed. "Anyone else? Sure. Not Steve, though. This will never not hurt like hell."
"May I make a suggestion?"
Bucky suspected this was a little forward for an AI assistant, but was game. "Of course."
"As long as you're here with Dr. Banner, you're still Bucky Barnes, the best friend of Captain America. Perhaps you should go somewhere nobody knows you, so you can learn to be James Grant."
"What, are you my therapist now?"
"If you like."
Bucky wondered if Lady could sense him rolling his eyes. "Nope."
"If you don't mind me asking, what is your plan for the future?"
That was an awfully open-ended question, so Bucky focused on the immediate. "I want to stick around for a few months. I can do good things here. Then, well, it isn't the safest option, but I want to go back to the States. Bounce around a little." He thought of his desire to make amends for his past deeds. "I could do more volunteering. Stark gave me enough money, so I don't have to work if I don't want to. I can just see where I'm needed the most."
"That sounds like something Captain Rogers would have approved of."
He couldn't tell if that was approval or censure in Lady's tone. He recalled Sam asking him about making decisions without thinking of Steve. Bucky had lived so long without a moral compass, programmed to not care about anything. But caring about Steve had saved him. Steve was his compass. And without Steve in his life, he truly felt adrift. Leaving this camp and Banner would mean unstructured days and nights, so many decisions to make on his own.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop considering Steve in everything I do. I'm just not ready."
"Do you think you'll ever be?"
Bucky laid back on his insubstantial mattress and stared at nothing until he fell into an uneasy slumber, filled with dreams of Brooklyn and Steve and the lost chance of home.
