Chapter Four: Pass and Bypass

There were days when Bucky was almost able to forget about politics. He would wake up in the morning, think about what he was going to do with his day at S.H.I.E.L.D. or in whatever limited free time he would have on his day off, ignore the news, and play with Winter. He would put on his chain of family heirlooms, press his hand to each one for the passing of a heartbeat, and then tuck them into his shirt without letting himself get bogged down in old memories. He would go about his life without thinking of the garbage happening at the Ministry because he was free now, or at least as free as any of them could be when the entity they required liberation from was their own government. Nevertheless, he was happy to stay separate from all that bullshit and only deal with that part of his life as necessary rather than the unfortunate alternative he'd lived for so long.

Then there were other days when politics had nothing better to do than test how well he remembered what absolute crap they were.

Unfortunately, it appeared that today would be one of the latter.

HEAD OF DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT STEPS DOWN – NEW HEAD APPOINTED

In the wake of the recent outcry against a Muggle accused of kidnapping over five dozen children during the last six months and allegedly using them for experiments into the nature of magical inheritance, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Janet van Dyne, has stepped down from her post.

Van Dyne, who has held the same position for fifteen years, declined comment this morning as she left the Ministry for good. Many of her supporters and critics alike, however, have wondered about the timing of her departure. In recent statements, van Dyne has indicated that both she and the Aurors she oversees will not rest until everything about the incident has been uncovered and a cohesive picture of the events leading up to it has been created. She has so far been true to her word: the department has seen Aurors working around the clock at the Ministry and in Belgium where the children were found in an attempt to locate any accomplices the as yet unnamed Muggle may have had in this endeavor.

Now, however, van Dyne has offered no explanation for her egress except to say that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement "requires new leadership in order to strive toward the best vision for the future." Many would say that she has already worked toward that very goal for over a decade, but the former department head was unwilling to give any further insight into what is really happening behind closed doors at the Ministry.

Many of van Dyne's critics, however, think they've figured it out. One high-ranking Ministry official who prefers to remain nameless had this to say about her resignation: "While she's served admirably for many years, it's no secret that Janet is getting older. Her post is for the young, those with the energy and vision to take the department where it needs to go in our changing world. That, unfortunately, isn't a place Janet can take it."

Apparently, the person who can is Jack Rollins. The former employee of the Department of Mysteries, title and duties unknown, has been appointed by the Minister to take van Dyne's place as of Monday. While Rollins has been unavailable for comment, Minister Pierce issued a statement during his announcement about Rollins's credentials and suitability for the job.

"Jack Rollins was a student at Durmstrang during my time as headmaster, and both then as well as today, I have yet to meet an individual with more promise. His experience is classified and cannot be released to the public without opening the British Wizarding community up to potential threats, but I can assure you that his work to keep us safe has been invaluable. In light of Janet van Dyne's resignation, I trust no one else for the job."

That may be, but there is no denying that Rollins has some pretty big shoes to fill as he starts his run as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Monday.

For more about Janet van Dyne – page 11

For more about the Belgium case – page 13

"So, how deep is this bullshit about her resigning?" asked Bucky as he chewed on a slice of toast.

Steve snorted. "Deeper than Tony's pockets."

"That's pretty deep."

"I'm pretty sure it breaks records for deep."

"No one he trusts more," repeated Bucky contemptuously, tossing the paper aside in disgust. "He's been out of school just as long as we have. That's not enough time for him to be that well connected."

"Or that well tested," agreed Steve. He rolled his eyes as he collapsed in the chair across the table and stole the other half of Bucky's toast. He looked so tired after yet another all-nighter that Bucky didn't even berate him for it. "His record in the Department of Mysteries being classified sounds like an excuse to me. Smoke and mirrors to get people's attention off the fact that this is the worst possible time for Janet to get kicked out."

Frowning, Bucky mused, "I don't get it, though. I mean, no one's blaming her for what happened, and that's usually what gets people the boot like this. She's done everything she can to look into what happened—she's doing her job."

"Maybe that's the problem." Steve's eyebrows were furrowed in thought as he continued pensively, "Pierce wants to keep the whole Hydra thing hushed up, right? Janet tried to talk to him about it, but he's really sticking to this whole demon Muggle out for blood story."

"So, if she wouldn't let up…"

"Pierce got rid of her to get her to," finished Steve with a nod. "Not that we can prove it."

Bucky snorted, reclining back in his seat. "Of course not. No one ever can. The guy's slippery. Stupid politicians."

Steve simply hummed in agreement, glancing at the clock over the stove like he had somewhere to be. It was second nature by now: recently he'd been practically glued to his desk at the Ministry trying to figure out what was going on. The only time he allegedly got up appeared to be to use the bathroom or join some of the rest of the team in Belgium to do more examinations of the building and the wards. Peggy, obsessed as she also was with solving the case, had been the one to call Bucky and tell him in no uncertain terms that Steve was not allowed to come into the Ministry today. It was Saturday, and Steve hadn't had one of those off in so long none of them could really remember the last time. Hell, Bucky hadn't been much better with everything happening at S.H.I.E.L.D. recently. This was one of the first days he felt confident that he could stay away without things going to shit, though, and he had been determined to have one day with no mention of any of this shit—at least until Steve had come waltzing in with the Daily Prophet, destroyer of hope and crusher of dreams.

Now he was really shooting for today to be as stress-free as possible. If they were going to have to deal with the fallout of all this on Monday, they should get the weekend to do something else in preparation for the potential nervous breakdown they would both be suffering soon enough.

"All right," he declared with a resolute nod. "Text Sam and Clint. Tell them to grab their brooms and meet us in Hogsmeade."

By the time he made it halfway to his room, Steve was still sitting at their kitchen table blinking uncomprehendingly at him.

"Was I not speaking English, Rogers?"

Shaking his head, Steve argued, "I can't go. I've got stuff to do."

"Oh?" Bucky turned back, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and an innocent expression on his face. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"There's so much work to d—"

"Which is something you're not doing today."

There was that old Steve Rogers Does Not Approve expression. "Buck, I can't just skip out."

"You're not skipping out—they gave you the day off," countered Bucky with raised eyebrows.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't. You have the day off, that means you don't have work to do."

"There's plenty I could do here."

"Name one thing."

A pause. A long pause.

"Exactly."

"I could at least check and see if they need me to do anything," Steve sighed halfheartedly. Bucky could see he already knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win, and it was a testament to just how tired Steve was that he wasn't attempting to fight Bucky harder on this.

"If they need you, they'll call," he reasoned.

Steve nodded reluctantly before pointing out, "They might need you at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Then they'll call. But right now, we're going to Hogsmeade and we're going to play pick-up Quidditch because we're going to go insane if we don't get a day to just freeze all this out and be normal."

"There's no arguing with you on this one, huh?" chuckled Steve with a weak smile.

Bucky grinned back. "Nope. I have it on good authority that you aren't allowed within ten feet of the Ministry of Magic under pain of torture—for me—from your girlfriend."

"She wou—"

"Don't care. I'm more scared of her than I am of you. So get your ass up and get your broom."

It had been a while since Bucky took out his broom just for the sake of flying around, and he felt a refreshing sense of freedom as he kicked off the ground in the empty fields outside Hogsmeade. There was a certain weightlessness to flying that had nothing to do with his feet being dozens or even hundreds of feet in the air; he couldn't explain it, but it felt like all the weight he'd been carrying around with the stress piled on them was left down below for him to return to later. If things kept going the way they had been, he would have to do this more often.

Sam, Clint, and Steve seemed to feel the same way. Sam and Clint had been all-stars at S.H.I.E.L.D. since they started there, yet the last couple of weeks were where they really shined. Clint, who was generally abrasive as a rule, was loved by all the kids for his sarcasm and inability to treat anybody as if they were broken or somehow less than anyone else. That was something Bucky had always appreciated about him: even at Bucky's lowest, when he'd lost sight of who he was and where he was going in life, Clint hadn't treated him like glass. He hadn't walked around on eggshells waiting for the moment when Bucky would break. Neither had most of his friends, but they'd still been more gentle with his fragile psyche as a result of the trauma he'd suffered. Clint had no qualms about telling him he was an idiot or that he needed to pay attention or that he was being stupid blaming himself for things that had nothing to do with him. His was the voice that metaphorically smacked him upside the head and ordered him to snap out of it. That was something the kids flocked to: a person who would see them for who they were and not mince words to spare their feelings.

On the other side of things, Sam's gentleness had garnered him quite a few fans as well. There were plenty of counselors working at S.H.I.E.L.D., both in full- and part-time capacities, but none were as popular as Sam. There was something about him, as there always had been, that exuded understanding even though he could be a sarcastic little shit when the fancy struck him. He had a sense of humor anyone could relate to and find funny; the kids felt at ease around him the way they would with a big brother, and he was always able to gauge their needs as if he were exactly that. He and Clint had become such staples at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility that Bucky was positive no amount of money could fully compensate them for all the good they were doing. Neither one could be found sleeping on the job (figuratively or literally) since the kids from Belgium had arrived; they had worked just as long and hard as Bucky and Steve to see to it that everyone was taken care of. There was no argument: they deserved a day off as much as anyone else.

That didn't stop them all from checking their cell phones every few minutes just in case a call came in, but hey, they were adults now and occasionally had to act like it.

Thankfully, they could at least lower their adult-behavior quota to relatively fifty percent for today to just relax as they tossed around a basketball as their makeshift Quaffle in a two-on-two match. (Bucky had considered buying a set of actual Quidditch balls to make it more realistic, but there were too few of them playing and they didn't get an opportunity like this often enough to make the astronomical price of the set worthwhile. Even just the Quaffle was more than he felt comfortable spending, which was really saying something.)

Their game wasn't nearly as sophisticated as what they'd played at Hogwarts, but they made it work. Steve and Clint were on one team while Bucky and Sam were paired up on the other, enchanting the basketball to launch itself into the air at the start of the match. They'd been scraping the bottom of the barrel on supplies and therefore brought two cardboard boxes from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s storage space that were floating in the air as goalposts. They did their job: Steve caught the Quaffle on the first launch, jetting around Bucky to take the shot as Sam followed on his tail.

Bucky managed to veer around and get in Steve's way, throwing a hand in front of the ball so it bounced off instead of going through their box. Sam, who ducked behind Steve's broom, caught the fumble and turned for the opposite end of their impromptu pitch. In front of the other goal, Clint had taken up his post as Keeper—he was fine with playing Chaser, but it looked like he and Steve wanted to have a system. He was hovering to the side as he followed Sam's movements, gauging where he would shoot from. He thought Sam was going high—

Sam went low—

"Shit!"

Laughing, Bucky high-fived Sam before they launched the ball and started over.

Now, Bucky wasn't one to gloat, especially with his friends—but it was truly pathetic just how huge a margin Clint and Steve lost by. And Bucky would never let them forget it.

As they made their way back into town, windswept and a little chilly from the still cool April air, Bucky was pleased to realize that they'd spent the whole day just goofing off and he hadn't thought about work once. There was a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest at the thought, but he quashed it as soon as it cropped up. Yes, there were children who needed help and yes, it was his job to provide that help. That didn't mean he was supposed to give up his life, though. Steve was an Auror—it was literally his job to put his life on the line for those in need, but that didn't obligate him to put his life on hold either. They were still human beings, and unlike his mom, Bucky refused to let his whole life be about work.

So they piled into the Three Broomsticks, grabbed butterbeers and some pastries, and took a seat by the window where they could see Hogwarts in the distance. It was obviously not a Hogsmeade weekend or else the place would be packed with students, so there was plenty of time and space for them to just lounge around and chat amiably the way they hadn't been able to of late with all the professional-speak they needed to engage in.

Eventually, of course, the conversation devolved into teasing about the embarrassing moments of their youth—which it appeared Clint had more of than any of them.

"Man, do you remember the time in our fifth year when he thought Stark was on the level about those potions that would make you remember everything you needed for your O.W.L.s?" laughed Sam. Steve guffawed as Clint glared at them.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"Wait, if it didn't help, what did it do?" demanded Bucky incredulously. Clint was always smarter than most people gave him credit for, so Bucky found it astounding that he'd been naïve enough to think that there was a potion for that. He definitely wasn't the only one, but still.

Snorting, Steve began to explain, "It gave him boils o—" before Clint cut in.

"It meant my beautiful face was marred for a week until Madam Bishop could figure out what was in that potion," he grumbled, patting his cheeks like the blemishes might return at the mere mention of them.

"Soooo…typical Thursday?"

"Y'know what Barnes—"

"That's nothing compared to what T'Challa did when he found out," chuckled Sam, shaking his head at the recollection of what Bucky could only assume was quite a spectacle. "He actually found a way to duplicate the potion and poured it in Stark's drink during the leaving feast."

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Bucky, laughing loudly as Sam descended into fits of hysteria. "That's amazing!"

"Stark didn't think so," grinned Clint with an edge of old, deep-seated vindication. "I'm pretty sure that's really why Fury made T'Challa Head Boy, though."

"Yeah, because it couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that he was at the top of our class," challenged Steve without heat, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, yeah, that too."

Bucky chortled at the memory of T'Challa's face when he'd told them about his achievement. Although he was used to being praised for his fine work, it still came as something of a shock to him to see that the highest academic honor at Hogwarts had been awarded to him not because he was royalty, but because he deserved it. Bucky understood a little of what that was like given the impact his mother's legacy had on him (and the pity people felt for him after everything that had transpired, though he tried not to think about that), but it had to be so much more intense when you were a literal prince.

That, conveniently enough, reminded him that they hadn't seen T'Challa in almost a year. He was living in Wakanda now that he had diplomatic responsibilities to uphold, so he was frequently too busy to grant them an audience, as Clint liked to put it. An idea occurring to him, Bucky dug his phone out of his pocket and ordered, "Hey, huddle together."

"Why…?" inquired Clint suspiciously, his expression darkening when he saw Bucky tap the camera app on his phone and switch it to selfie mode. "Aw, hell no, man."

"We've gotta let our dear friend know what he's missing," shrugged Bucky with an only half-joking look of solemnity. There was much groaning and fussing, mainly from Clint, but eventually they managed to scoot together to get a picture. Steve and Sam just smiled because they were losers while Bucky put a finger to his face to indicate that a tear was falling from his eye; true to form, Clint crossed his eyes and imitated having buck teeth just as Bucky hit the button.

If the idiot thought he would retake the picture, he was sadly mistaken.

After adding the caption, "Wish you were here!" like a terrible Muggle postcard, he followed up with a middle finger emoji before shooting off the text. He surfaced to find Clint and Sam had somehow instigated a rousing debate on which subject was more useful at S.H.I.E.L.D. (joint Muggle and magical sports, which was Clint's area of expertise, or Muggle technology, which was Skye's), while Steve was staring out the window, looking wistfully up at the castle in the distance.

"Do you ever miss it?" asked Bucky quietly. Sam glanced over before continuing their conversation on the other side of the table, kindly offering them a bit of privacy.

Steve didn't answer at first, shrugging after a long moment. "Maybe a little. Those weren't the best days, but they were pretty good. What about you?"

"I do," confirmed Bucky. He kept his eyes locked on their alma mater so it would be easier to continue. "I mean, I don't miss the bad shit. I'll never miss that, but… It was safe there. We didn't have to worry about the stuff we do now, you know? I miss that. Life wasn't easier but it wasn't so complicated either. Most days we were just worrying about passing our classes and now we've got the whole world to think about."

"Well," pointed out Steve tentatively, "you always had more to worry about than just classes."

Ain't that the truth. "Yeah, I guess I did."

They sat in silence for a minute before Steve asked him, "If you could, would you go back?"

Oddly enough, Bucky had ruminated over that very question occasionally ever since they'd graduated. He hadn't been sure what his answer would be before, but as he reflected on everything they'd managed to accomplish—the lives both of them had saved and the good they'd done for the world in general—he couldn't be selfish enough to wish he could take it all back just to return to a time when things were a little simpler.

So, smiling sadly, Bucky turned back to Steve and responded, "Nah. There's no going back now."

Steve nodded slowly, and Bucky could tell from the look in his eyes that he understood everything Bucky had been referring to the way he'd always been able to comprehend the things Bucky didn't say. And that was all okay. They were grown, but they were still Steve and Bucky. Sam and Clint were still their friends. They'd come a long way, but they remained those two little boys from Brooklyn who Bucky had once thought he'd lost.

And if T'Challa sent him a selfie of his unimpressed face five minutes later, well, that just proved his point even more.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident, and Bucky was happy to report to Nat and Peggy on Sunday night that both he and Steve had managed to spend two days doing nothing for their respective jobs. Both women were inordinately pleased. Bucky figured it was a compliment to how much they'd been working recently and honestly, there was no one better to look after S.H.I.E.L.D. in his off hours than Nat anyway, so the place was in good hands.

That meant that when Monday morning dawned and they got up to prepare for work, Bucky was as relaxed as he could possibly feel given the circumstances. There hadn't been any emergencies, no more awkward lies from the Daily Prophet or Pierce—it was just him and Steve alternating between playing with Winter and playing video games. It felt like when they were kids again for the first time in years, and Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn't missed doing that. Once everything calmed down, he'd told Steve that they would need to do it more often, to which the latter had heartily agreed.

Sadly, that would have to wait. Steve returned to the real world first, leaving Bucky to feed Winter and give her a few head scratches before he Apparated to Crawley. His cat had been coming with him so often recently that he thought she, too, could use a break from all the kids who wanted to pet and play with her. It wasn't that she didn't like the attention—far from it—but she had earned an extra day off, especially now that there were other animals to occupy the kids' time so she didn't have to. And she wasn't exactly putting up a fuss to go with him anyway, so he took that as agreement.

When he arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D., it was still early enough that things were relatively quiet: kids still in bed, night crew finishing up the last of their shifts, morning crew not quite on the clock yet. It was admittedly one of his favorite times of day. As much as he loved what they did and interacting with the kids, it was always nice to begin the day on a quiet note to steel himself for anything that might be thrown their way. He hadn't really gotten that for the last couple of weeks.

Which, of course, should have told him that today wasn't going to be any different.

They made it to nine o'clock before Skye came sprinting into his office with panic written in every line of her face. "Bucky, we've got a huge problem!"

He was already out of his seat and coming around his desk as he demanded, "What is it?"

All manner of terrible things were running through his mind's eye: a kid had gotten hurt, there had been a fight, one of the staff had been injured somehow, someone was sick. They'd made the facility as safe as they could for the children who stayed there as well as everyone employed by S.H.I.E.L.D., but Bucky had long since learned that there was no telling what could happen regardless of all the preparation they'd put in. He didn't really remember that being the case when he was a kid, yet miracles happened around children. If he believed something couldn't be broken, they broke it; if he believed something couldn't be accessed, they accessed it. It was sort of like those pictures of animals on the internet that got themselves in weird places and no one had any idea how the hell they managed it. Children were somehow exactly that sort of conundrum. So he considered every single thing that could have gone wrong in the instant it took him to get up only to find out that there was one thing he'd missed.

"There's a bunch of people from the Ministry here, including Rumlow," explained Skye, leading the way out of Bucky's office as they made a beeline for the elevators.

"What are they doing here?"

"He said they're here to take the kids."

Bucky stopped dead, gaping at Skye as if she'd grown another head. That would probably make more sense than what had come out of her mouth. "What the hell do you mean, they're here to take the kids?"

"I don't know," she shrugged helplessly, jogging to catch up as Bucky stretched his strides to double their usual length. "Natasha's down there with Wanda keeping them in the lobby, but he's got an order from the Ministry and he's not backing down."

"Yeah, we'll see about his order," muttered Bucky darkly. They entered the elevator and he jabbed the button for the first floor, clenching his fists and attempting to bring his breathing back under control. The last thing he needed was to lose his temper at Rumlow and whoever he'd brought with him, regardless of how incensed he was at the gall this took. He'd known they hadn't seen the last of the Minister's interference, but he hadn't thought this was the next step.

Those thoughts didn't do much to help his endeavor to calm himself, and by the time the doors opened, Bucky was back in a towering rage. As he passed by Thor's classroom, he poked his head inside despite the fact that he was interrupting a lesson. "Thor."

The blond turned to look at him from the front of the room with a confused yet prepared expression as soon as he saw Bucky's face. Holding up a finger to the kids, who were now watching with curious gazes, he moved to the door and whispered, "What's happening?"

"Lock down the room and all the others. Don't let anyone in or out until I get back, got it?"

"It shall be done," he agreed, turning back to the room.

Bucky didn't wait to watch him follow instructions as he turned back towards the lobby, which was so packed with people there nearly wasn't enough room to stand. They weren't Aurors, that much was certain, yet Bucky had no idea what department they were from since he didn't recognize their robes as anything from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. At their head was Rumlow, facing off against Nat where she was blocking their path back into the building. Wanda and Clint were right behind her; Clint still had his bow in hand from where he must have been teaching archery in his sports class, and he definitely appeared ready to use it at the slightest provocation.

"What's going on here?" demanded Bucky, moving past them to step up beside Natasha.

Rumlow turned his gaze on him with his trademark shitty smirk. "Barnes, we're here to take custody of the kids from the Belgium case currently in your care."

"You don't have the authority to do that."

"I think you'll find I do." He broke off to open a padfolio he was carrying, retrieved a sheet of parchment, and held it out to Bucky.

"I told you last time," argued Bucky without taking it, "you have no jurisdiction here. Those kids are under our protection, and we don't work with anyone but the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or Muggle authorities—when necessary."

Rumlow nodded. "I know. That's where my orders came from."

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky glanced down at the document for the first time before reaching out to take it as if the thing was cursed. Unfortunately, he only felt like it was.

Mr. Barnes,

It is the will of the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that the children recovered from the Cinema-Theatre Varia in Belgium be taken into custody by the Ministry until such time as homes may be found for them, whether temporary or permanent, among members of the Wizarding community. Pursuant to the latest amendment to procedures followed by the Office for the Welfare of Magical Children as enacted by Minister Pierce this past Friday, children who are involved as witnesses or offenders in any criminal proceedings may be placed under Ministry care and custody at any point in time while the proceedings are ongoing. As such, you will be required to surrender any children taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D. who are involved in the Belgium investigation to present Ministry authorities upon request.

If you should have any questions regarding the updated procedures and policies, you may feel free to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or myself personally.

Jack Rollins

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Bucky could only gape down at the letter, reading it four times in rapid succession with his eyes falling repeatedly back to the seal of Rollins's new office at the bottom of the page. It was fresh, it was genuine—

"It's a load of shit," he breathed. His gaze shot up to Rumlow's face to see him looking smugger than ever before. It was all Bucky could do not to sink his fist into that smirk.

"I'm afraid it's official," was all Rumlow replied with, utterly insincere and uncaring in the face of the predicament this put Bucky and S.H.I.E.L.D. and all the kids in. "So, if you don't mind, you can go get the kids or we can."

Shaking his head, Bucky spat, "You're not taking them anywhere until I get verification on this."

Rumlow gestured magnanimously and shrugged. "Sure, take your time. I've got all day."

"Nat, with me," he grunted, offering one last scowl at Rumlow before storming back towards the classrooms with Natasha close on his heels.

"I don't think they're going to give us much choice, Yasha," she breathed once they were well out of earshot and turning the corner to enter her gym. There hadn't been any students in there, so Thor hadn't locked up that room the way he had all the others.

"They can't just take them!" raged Bucky, rounding on her. "Or do you think this is all just fine?"

Nat quirked an eyebrow at him, effectively deflating his accusation. "Of course I don't, but are you really going to try to stand up to the Minister like this? You've got no support here aside from us, and that's not going to be enough right now. They'll take the kids anyway. The last thing they need to see is violence on top of everything they've already been through."

"I know that, Nat, okay? I know that, but this isn't right! He may be the Minister, but this reeks of corruption for so many reasons!" Bucky threw his arms up and tugged on his hair for a moment before jamming a hand into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "When an organization isn't under your power, you don't change the law to make it so they have to be. It's corrupt and it's creating a government monopoly on control. Pierce will be the new Stalin pretty soon."

"You're not wrong," sighed Nat, frowning as he dialed. "Who are you calling?"

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his teeth. "That letter said to call the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do. I'm not letting those kids go until I hear it from Steve that I have no choice."

There was no argument from Natasha, and they waited in silence as the line rang and rang and rang. Bucky was about to hang up and try again when the call eventually connected, only it wasn't Steve on the other end.

"Bucky?" whispered Peggy's voice. There was an echo, as if she was speaking in an area filled with tile—like a bathroom.

"Peggy, where's Steve?" he inquired immediately, feeling his stomach beginning to roil with anxiety.

"Right now he's in Rollins's office with some of our teammates getting briefed on how we're to handle the Belgium case moving forward," she responded immediately. She was still speaking quietly and quickly like she was afraid of getting caught. As if sensing he'd put that together, she continued, "I took a bit of a detour when I saw you calling. They can't do anything when I tell them I was having lady problems without being accused of sexism, so it's fine. What's going on?"

Ignoring the urge to laugh at Peggy's brilliance, Bucky gave her a quick recap of the last few minutes and even read the letter to her. Much to his dismay, she didn't make one peep of aggravation or surprise from the other end of the call. Shit, that means…

"You already knew," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"We found out this morning when Rumlow came down to collect the letter," she confirmed miserably. "Steve would have called, but they've been keeping us busy with how things are going to work under the new regime, so there hasn't been time."

"No, it's…it's fine." That was the biggest lie he'd told in a long time, and he knew that she was well aware of it. "Is there anything we can do to fight this?"

There was a brief pause. "Not without getting yourself arrested for withholding evidence in an ongoing investigation or even kidnapping now that they're officially in the Ministry's custody. You can appeal to the Minister, but nothing short of that is going to stop it from happening."

"So I just let them go and hope for the best."

"Unfortunately, that's the most we can do for now until we have more information about how things are about to change. Whether they're at S.H.I.E.L.D. or in Ministry-provided housing, you're more use to those children free rather than rotting away in a cell in Azkaban for contempt."

Bucky dropped the phone away from his ear, lowering his hands to his knees as he tried to digest that. It was true, there was no doubt about that, but it didn't make this any easier. After a few seconds, he brought the phone back up to his ear and muttered, "Okay. You go before you get in trouble."

"I'll keep my ears open and let you know if we hear anything else."

His gratitude was sincere if unenthusiastic as they disconnected and, reluctantly, he turned to face Natasha. From the look on her face, she'd already figured out what they had to do. She didn't say it, though, giving him a minute to come to terms with everything so he didn't blow the gasket that was already about to pop. It took a few minutes, not that it helped him much, then he nodded in firm affirmation of what was going to come next. However, if Rumlow thought he was getting off easy, he was nuts.

"I'm going to go back out and talk to them. I want you to get Thor and the others to take the kids back upstairs. Help them gather their things—clothes, toys, whatever—before you bring them back down. Bring their therapy pets with them."

Smirking slightly, Nat inquired, "Do you really think Rumlow's going to want to tow all that around with them?"

"Personally, Nat, I don't give a shit," grumbled Bucky, moving past her toward the corridor again.

This isn't the end, he reminded himself as he strode into the lobby with his head held high. They win this round, but I'm not giving up. They'll have to go over my dead body to win this war.