Chapter Ten: Follow the Money

Steve Rogers considered himself to be a pretty good friend. He tried to listen when someone needed his ear, and he generally tended to offer advice about getting out of a tough spot (sometimes when it wasn't wanted or asked for, but hey, he was just trying to help). He was able to joke around with his friends; they occasionally went out for dinner or just hung around at someone's apartment on a Saturday night. Yeah, they fought sometimes, but that was something that happened with anyone who had differing opinions on things. He and Bucky had argued for years over what was worth getting into fights about, ironically enough. That was a topic of conversation they hadn't had for a long time until just recently, only now it wasn't Steve's fights—or even physical ones at all—that they were talking about.

Bucky had always been a great friend despite riding Steve's ass about those altercations, though, and Steve figured he should get the same consideration for telling Bucky it wasn't necessary to put himself at risk the way he had been just to get back at Pierce. (Since Jarvis had discovered the kids were as safe as they could be now, that was really all there was to this whole espionage game Bucky was playing.) If it made Steve a shittier friend to tell Bucky he shouldn't continue going to the Ministry to sort through their files while the offer was on the table, he would take that and still believe that he was at least a pretty good friend for it.

And he definitely wasn't the best friend someone could have. How many years had he just sat by and let things happen when maybe there had been something he could have done or contributed that would have changed how it all turned out? Those were the idle thoughts that passed through his head sometimes when he was in a nostalgic mood. Would things have been different if he and his mom hadn't given up trying to contact Bucky and his family until they actually got through to someone? Might something have changed if he'd kept writing to Bucky, who may have gotten his letters if he was in Moscow rather than Romania? Would that have reminded Bucky that he had people who cared or made things easier when he came back to Hogwarts thinking he was all alone in the world despite all the friends constantly surrounding him? Steve knew that Bucky still felt that way sometimes; it was his mission to keep that from happening as much as possible, though, which was something a good friend did. He'd see the mood coming on and suggest they go out or do something that would take Bucky's mind off it. If Bucky wasn't in the right headspace to get out of their apartment, Steve would grab Winter and tag team Operation Cheer Up Bucky.

So yeah, he figured that as far as friends went, he was a fairly decent excuse for one. He tried as hard as he could, anyway, which was what mattered most.

That was why he spent most of his day on Friday doing recon that was undoubtedly against Ministry policy and would likely get him fired if someone (or, more specifically, Rollins) happened to find out. Not that he gave a damn about that, nor did Peggy or Jarvis when he enlisted their help. Now that they were off the Belgium case and back to routine crime fighting (as Bucky liked to call it when he wasn't feeling like death warmed over), it gave him plenty of time to arrange their newest mission.

Admittedly, Operation Get Bucky Out of the Ministry had started over a week ago.

Natasha had texted him the previous Wednesday saying only that they needed to talk. That sort of thing always made Steve nervous, although not quite for the reasons most people thought. Usually we need to talk implied that you had done something wrong and were about to hear about it in excruciating detail, oftentimes followed up with some sort of long-term consequence or, in the case of a significant other, breakup. Steve had never cared much about that; if Peggy wanted to get out of their relationship, she wouldn't beat around the bush. He had no doubt in his mind that, given the motivation, Peggy would tell him point blank what was wrong and that she didn't want the relationship anymore. Period. End of story. That was one of the things he loved most about her: she didn't pull punches and she tolerated no bullshit.

So Steve had agreed to meet Nat for lunch that day with only a minimal amount of trepidation over the text. After all, how else was she going to say they needed to talk about something aside from saying we need to talk?

The Nat he'd found at a Thai restaurant not too far from S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the one he usually saw. She'd made it there before him and was sitting at a table in the corner of the main dining room, which was packed with people stopping for lunch in the middle of a busy workday. When she saw him, Nat didn't smile or even smirk. It was almost as if she were staring straight through him as he took the seat across from her with a frown. Never had he seen her so subdued and anxious. It was only because he knew her well that he recognized what those things looked like on her at all, but they'd never been so prominent on her visage before.

"Something's wrong with Bucky," was what she'd led the conversation with, and it had devolved from there. She'd filled him in on Bucky's poor attendance at work and his terrible demeanor and appearance when he did grace them with his presence. Apparently she'd practically begged him to stop the charade at the Ministry just that morning, which was saying something for Nat. What was really surprising, however, was that Bucky hadn't listened. Steve knew that Bucky valued Nat's opinion almost higher than anyone else he knew except for Steve and his mom. There had been many occasions in the past where Steve had lent him a sympathetic ear when he ranted about something Nat had done or didn't understand but was rebuking him for anyway, yet he always calmed down enough to see some sense in what she'd told him.

From what Nat had described, that didn't happen. Or it almost happened, but then it seemed like Bucky made a total one-eighty and said the exact opposite. He'd even called her Natasha, something that was so infrequent an occurrence that Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd used her whole name.

"I don't know what he's getting himself into," Nat had concluded after they finally gave their order to a server, who was quite obviously getting tired of repeatedly asking if they were ready, "but it's not good. You've got to talk some sense into him, because he's not listening to me."

Steve had promised to do his best and gave Bucky shit about it almost every day after, but it never made a difference. Their conversation the night prior had been as close as Steve got to losing his temper when he found that every attempt to make Bucky see reason was met with resistance. That Bucky was able to argue so passionately about his activities at all was practically a miracle: he wasn't even capable of staying awake for ten minutes in the evenings anymore, and Steve had no idea how he was functioning during his long recon sessions at the Ministry. However he was doing it, the fact of the matter was that he wasn't okay and needed to stop before he got even more unwell.

Jarvis and Peggy had been of the same mind and agreed to help in whatever way they could a few days prior. They'd crafted a fairly simple plan that was harder to execute than he'd realized at the time. Steve was in charge of interventions, which he'd made good on Thursday night. Peggy, who had a few friends down in the Office for the Welfare of Magical Children, casually strolled by every now and again to visit but hadn't seen Bucky once since she'd started making the rounds at the beginning of the week. Jarvis, who was already up to his eyeballs in research between his job and the records he'd been searching for Bucky (only to discover that there wasn't really anything of concern to be found), had taken on a third task: hunting down where Pierce was making room for this alleged S.H.I.E.L.D. merger in the event that Bucky agreed to his proposition.

Oddly enough, that was where things truly started getting weird.

"How's everything going over here, darling?" purred Peggy, coming up behind his chair and leaning her elbow on his shoulder.

Steve opened his mouth to say everything was boring because all he had to do today was file paperwork about a witch who'd been doing her best to learn necromancy (never a fun situation for anyone involved) and was brought in for questioning about the deaths of all the household pets on her block Wednesday morning. Instead, his jaw snapped closed in confusion when Peggy didn't wait for an answer before pressing a kiss to his cheek. He couldn't help staring incredulously up at her—that was not professional, and if Peggy prided herself on one thing, it was being a professional.

Ignoring his gobsmacked expression, she ran a finger down from his shoulder to his elbow and whispered, "What do you say to an early lunch break?"

"Uh… I'd say Rollins would probably be pissed?" he slowly answered, eyebrows furrowing.

Peggy almost rolled her eyes but seemed to resist the urge at the very last moment. "I'm sure he'd understand as long as we don't go over our time."

This time, her tone was a little harder and Steve finally caught on to the fact that she was trying to subtly tell him they needed to go somewhere else. He decided Bucky, Sam, and Clint could never find out that he was a professional Auror who hunted dark wizards for a living but couldn't see what was right in front of his own damn nose sometimes.

I'm such an idiot.

Plastering a smile on his face, Steve agreed and set his paperwork aside. It would, unfortunately, still be there when he got back. Peggy shot a glance behind them as they left the department to make sure Rollins's office was still closed up. He wasn't one to open the blinds on his glass walls or keep his door ajar, so odds were as long as he didn't need them for anything, they could slip away and come back before he noticed anything was amiss.

That appeared to be what Peggy was thinking, hustling him further along the corridor until they came to the women's bathroom just past the Office of Records and shoving him roughly inside. As soon as the door closed behind them and Peggy had locked it so they weren't interrupted, Steve rounded on her in total shock.

"What the hell are we doing in here?"

"It was the only place we could think of where there wasn't much foot traffic but all of us could conceivably be in the area without appearing suspicious," she elaborated with a dismissive wave of her hand. Steve couldn't help frowning at her phrasing.

"All of us?"

"I must admit this idea was more uncomfortable in practice than in theory," sighed Jarvis, stepping out of one of the stalls with a sheepish expression on his face.

Snorting, Steve hopped up onto the counter and rolled his eyes. "Well, as long as no one saw you coming in, it should be fine."

"It will be fine either way," corrected Peggy, moving to lean against the sink beside him.

"How d'you figure?"

"We'll just tell them we were planning an orgy and ask if they care to join," she shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Steve could feel his face heating up and glanced furtively at Jarvis to see that he was turning a bright shade of red as well.

Good, at least it's not just me.

"So," coughed Steve after clearing his throat a few times. (Peggy appeared inordinately pleased with herself.) "How about we get to the part about why we're meeting in a bathroom?"

"Right," agreed Peggy, nodding pointedly to Jarvis. "You said you found something in your message."

Jarvis nodded pensively, checking the door one more time to make sure it was locked before lowering his voice to almost whisper. "You'll recall that I assumed there would be some sort of monetary exchange for S.H.I.E.L.D. taking over the duties of the welfare office. Bucky said Pierce was promising resources, so obviously it would make sense that any accounts assigned to that office would be transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D. to use in the fulfillment of their duties."

Steve shrugged a shoulder in deferment. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise; he wasn't even all that good at politics and had learned very little about them in the last two years since getting hired on by the Ministry. It was reasonable to believe that money would come with the territory, though, so he wasn't about to argue—particularly not with an analyst whose literal job was to figure these sorts of things out. Well, that was what he assumed anyway; none of them had any idea what Jarvis specifically did in the Department of Mysteries, but it wasn't something just anybody off the street could handle.

"I was searching through the Ministry's funding accounts," continued Jarvis in the same thoughtful tone, "and I couldn't find any temporary accounts or notes for potential transfers. I had thought there would be at least a note that a certain amount of funding would have to remain in the account for transfer in the future, but it appears to be business as usual as far as that office is concerned."

"Couldn't they be taking funding from other departments or perhaps extra funding somewhere else to account for it?" inquired Peggy with a frown.

Jarvis shook his head. "There's nothing set aside or unaccounted for anywhere that I could see. However, there was an account that I wasn't able to discern the purpose of, but I have no doubt that it is not meant for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What kind of account was it?" asked Steve, quirking an eyebrow when Jarvis paused. "You don't know?"

"You see, that's where the situation gets…sticky," he explained tentatively. "There is an extensive amount of money in that account, and it's listed as being for Research and Development."

Peggy, eyes narrowed, demanded, "For which department?"

If Steve didn't know any better, he would think Jarvis was going to melt into a puddle on the floor under her gaze, but he managed to stand his ground as he replied, "The Department of Mysteries."

"…Then, shouldn't you know what they're using it for?" questioned Steve with an apologetic grimace. He didn't mean to sound accusatory but…well, if the money was going to Jarvis's department, then Jarvis should know what they were using it for.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as that. Jarvis shifted his weight nervously, clearly weighing his words and what he was or wasn't allowed to say under his contract. Steve wanted to tell him that it didn't matter and they wouldn't tell anyway, but he knew that Jarvis wanted to follow the rules. He was one of those guys who wouldn't fight the power unless there was some overt injustice to be dealt with. Steve wasn't quite sure what it must be like to have that sort of dilemma—he tended to think with his heart rather than his head, regardless of how often it had gotten him in trouble over the years. It was worth it every damn time.

Peggy was apparently not feeling as patient as Steve was with Jarvis's quandary and sighed, "Honestly, it's not as though we're going to walk around airing the dirty laundry of the literal bowels of the Ministry whilst shouting your name."

Jarvis's eyebrows twitched in a well, you have a point sort of way, and he blew out a long breath through his mouth. Steeling himself, he finally managed to say, "The Department of Mysteries has many secrets that even those of us who work there are not privy to. If you could see it… I suppose the best way to describe it is that there are many departments all contained within the one, and none of us work with members of the other areas. I go to where my research is centered and that's all—they could be creating a bomb next door and I would never know until it went off."

"Is that likely?" demanded Steve, his mind immediately flashing back to Pierce's reassurances that he would make the Wizarding world safe against Muggles by essentially using whatever means he felt were necessary to achieve that end. That could mean any number of nasty things.

"Perhaps," shrugged Jarvis. "Much of what I handle is based on magical occurrences—phenomena that have no known cause in either Muggle or magical circles and which require further analysis and understanding before we can judge their usefulness or potential harm to the world. I know that our team is one of the lesser funded ones, but I can't say what they would be using this account for."

"You said it was rather substantial," remarked Peggy. When Jarvis nodded in confirmation, she huffed, "Well, that could mean anything."

"Or it could mean that Pierce is playing a game with Bucky just like he was trying to do," countered Steve, glaring down at the floor for a moment until a few pieces slotted together in his mind. He could think in politics sometimes, it just took some effort. "Jarvis said there's no extra money lying around, which means S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't get any funding to go with the other resources, but that doesn't mean it's all where it's supposed to be either. Did you check the history on the welfare office account?"

Realization dawned on Jarvis's face at the prompting and he blurted out, "They funneled the funding out!" Snapping his fingers, he glanced at them as if wondering why they weren't sharing in his moment of genius before comprehending that they needed a little more to go on to do that. "Most of the other accounts have seen average amounts of spending over the last twelve months, but the Office for the Welfare of Magical Children has had tremendous decreases in their balances during the past four months alone. Now that you mention it, the amounts withdrawn would be close to how much was in that research account if no other funding was added from other sources."

"Which it wouldn't be if Pierce was trying to pull a fast one," observed Steve firmly. "He wouldn't want his own money tied to anything here just in case it's not as nice as he wants people to believe."

"Well then, what could he possibly be funneling money into that he would use the welfare funding to accomplish?" posed Peggy, moving to sit beside him on the counter. "If it was a Ministry-wide research project, you would think there would have been funds coming out of a lot of departments, not just one."

"Wait a second, Jarvis—you said this has only been going on for the last four months?" Steve clarified, gritting his teeth when Jarvis responded in the affirmative. "That's almost as long as it's been since he took the kids from the Belgium case back from S.H.I.E.L.D."

Peggy caught on to the implications quickly, her jaw dropping. "He could have hidden the withdrawals by saying they were being used to take care of the influx of children when in reality he was sending it all into this separate account."

Nodding, Steve agreed, "Exactly. Think about it: no one would ask. No one would go looking for the money. Instead it all gets shifted into whatever he wants to do with it while everyone's too busy feeling bad that the kids are dying. If anyone did try checking to make sure they were being taken care of, Pierce could point to the fact that money was being spent and say they were doing everything they could."

"All the while preparing for…something," Jarvis finished lamely with a sigh. "Now if we could only figure out what that is, we'd have everything to finish what we started."

"Keep on it," ordered Steve, sliding off the counter. According to his phone, their early lunch break was nearly over. "Find whatever you can that shows those withdrawals coinciding with any deposits to the Department of Mysteries account. Look anywhere you have to, just don't get caught."

"Right." Jarvis moved toward the door before screeching to a halt and half-turning to inquire, "And what are you two going to do?"

"We'll be watching Rollins's every move," Peggy responded darkly. "If anyone is in on this nonsense, it would be him. The Department of Mysteries is at the center of this and that's where he came from. I hardly believe he's got nothing to do with it."

"Not a chance," agreed Steve. He didn't mention the fact that Rollins had always been in Rumlow's back pocket anyway, which didn't bode well for his innocence when he had such a close connection to the Minister right there.

They waited for Jarvis to exit first and gave it five minutes before Peggy poked her head out, motioned that the coast was clear, and they headed back to their cubicles.

"Do you think we should tell Bucky?" she whispered before they were within earshot of their colleagues.

Steve nodded solemnly. "He can't possibly argue about telling Pierce where to stick it when we've got something on him. We may not know what it is yet, but I'll bet it's more than what he's found."

And if it made Steve disproportionately relieved to know that Bucky would be out of the Ministry and hopefully on the road to recovery by the end of the day, well, that could be his little secret.

So, apparently Rollins was the kind of person who indicated their anger in the quiet sort of way.

Steve tended to prefer people who shouted and cursed and spontaneously combusted. At least then you knew what you were dealing with and when it was over. The silent ones were always more dangerous: they were the ones who figured out the terrifyingly torturous ways to make someone pay for doing what they weren't supposed to, and that was exactly what Rollins did to him and Peggy for taking an early lunch rather than working until the right time.

Carting boxes of old records from their floor to the various other departments throughout the Ministry wasn't exactly the worst thing to happen to them, but it also wasn't the greatest. They weren't allowed to take their time with it either; Rollins had said to report back in one hour to receive another assignment—meaning they had to figure out how to get thirty-seven boxes to fifteen different offices in each of the departments in one hour. Sure, they could use magic, but there was no way they were going to be able to carry them all at once and still leave room for anyone else in the elevators, so it would mean quite a few trips back and forth.

Peggy and Steve decided to split the task: she would take everything on the bottommost floors while Steve handled the rest. It would still take time, but at least it was better than doing it all together.

It also had the added bonus that Steve would be passing through the Office for the Welfare of Magical Children and Pierce's area before he would be heading back to Rollins for more fun. If he could get a quick moment in the right rooms, he could tell Bucky to cut his losses and get out of there early rather than waiting as long as he usually did before heading home to collapse in a heap wherever he happened to land. Steve would have just sent a text, but his phone had indicated that his message was undeliverable the first four times he'd tried.

Fate continued working against him, however. The two boxes he had for the welfare office did require him to go further back than was typical on a cursory walk-by, but he didn't see Bucky anywhere. Steve remembered him saying something about working in a conference room, yet the only one they had was wide open with the lights out, completely devoid of people or files or pretty much anything else that would prove Bucky was there right now.

Frowning, Steve blew through the next few packages until he could pick up the ones destined for Pierce's secretary to see if maybe Bucky was already up there telling the Minister to get lost.

"Hey, Renata," he greeted kindly when he arrived in front of her desk. She wasn't the warmest individual, but she was nice enough if you didn't annoy her by asking her to do you any favors. Like, you know, doing her job or something crazy like that.

"Auror Rogers," she responded idly, inclining her head without looking up from where she was reading one of her magazines.

He waited a second to see if he could catch her eye, but it quickly became apparent that she was planning on ignoring him until he got the picture. Clearing his throat, he attempted, "Is the Minister busy, or can I just leave these in his office so you don't have to worry about it later?"

That got her attention. There was a tiny smile on her face at the prospect of not having to deliver the parcels herself, and she waved a hand magnanimously at the Minister's office door. "He's at a meeting, so you can just leave them right inside for him."

"Sounds good." Steve shot her a blinding grin and walked through the antechamber into Pierce's office. Maybe his meeting was with Bucky, although he wasn't sure why it wasn't being held here instead of wherever else they would be. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind telling him that something was off about this, that not being able to find Bucky or Pierce wasn't a good thing, but he set his concerns aside as soon as it occurred to him. Bucky probably just went home, either of his own accord or from some bullying texts from Nat, and Pierce was the Minister—it was sort of his job to be busy doing stuff that didn't leave him much time for sitting around in his office.

Still, if they weren't here, it would be all right if he just took a quick peek around, right?

Steve set the boxes on one of the chairs before Pierce's desk, briefly checked the door to make sure no one was watching, and slipped behind the desk to glance over what had been left atop the wooden surface. There was disappointingly little to see: Pierce unfortunately kept things rather clean, with nothing laying out for someone to look through. The only item of any import was a folder at the corner of the desk with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it. Steve flipped it open curiously, skimming through the contents to see that it essentially contained the manifest of resources that would be going to S.H.I.E.L.D. if Bucky agreed to Pierce's terms. Steve nearly scoffed at the mere notion of that ever happening, but he was brought up short when he saw a sum of money listed at the very end of the document. Memorizing the number, he resolved to speak with Jarvis later to figure out if it had any relevance.

There was nothing else of interest to be found, so Steve replaced the folder exactly as it had been before and was about to open the top drawer of Pierce's desk when he heard someone clear their throat from the door.

Vasily Karpov, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, was watching him with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Auror Rogers," he greeted tonelessly. "Is there something you required help with?"

"Uh, no, sir," Steve replied immediately. It took everything he had in him not to appear as guilty as he felt for being caught snooping, although he figured Karpov hadn't been there long enough to see him looking at the file and Steve hadn't technically gotten the drawer open yet. There was nothing he could report to Pierce except that Steve was behind his desk.

Steve made sure to change that right away.

"Then what are you doing in here?" inquired Karpov in the same disinterested manner he always had when he spoke. It was no different now than it had been when he was in his sixth year and Karpov was teaching them how to Apparate.

At least he's consistent.

"I was just delivering a couple of boxes for the Minister." Steve shrugged with the best gee whizz smile he could manage. "I thought maybe there was a pair of scissors somewhere to cut the tape so he wouldn't have to later."

Karpov looked like he almost laughed at that. "The Minister would hardly stoop to such base methods as scissors to open a package, Rogers. He does, after all, have full use of his magical faculties."

"Right," chuckled Steve, shaking his head self-deprecatingly. "Smart man."

"Indeed."

The moment stretched uncomfortably as Karpov stared unblinkingly into Steve's eyes, the latter unwilling to drop his gaze and lose the impromptu staring match (slash quest for dominance) that was being waged between them.

Karpov, surprisingly, was the first to fold as he stepped out of the doorway to allow Steve to pass from the office into the antechamber. Smiling in fake gratitude, Steve moved past him and strolled casually through to the lobby, nodding once at Renata before making his way back to the elevators. He could feel Karpov's eyes on the back of his head the whole way and, when he turned to press the button for his department, Steve waved to him in a friendly sort of way when he found that he was correct.

Close call…but worth it, Steve sighed to himself as he reached the correct floor and returned to his cubicle. He barely managed to tell Peggy what happened when they met in the corridor before Rollins called him into his office for whatever other bright ideas had occurred to him in their absence.

Freaking Rollins, grumbled Steve in silence as he Apparated outside the apartment door with a huff.

He had been forced to stay two hours later than usual to record the testimony of the necromancer-wannabe in triplicate. Steve had absolutely no idea why what she had to say was important enough that they needed more than one copy to begin with; it had quickly become fairly obvious that it was just another scrap of revenge Rollins was able to throw on top of him for taking time away from his desk to talk to Peggy and Jarvis. Peggy, oddly enough, didn't receive any extra work aside from box hauling, and Steve suspected that the punishment he'd received was really due to the fact that he was in the women's bathroom rather than taking lunch early. Fortunately, he had a damn good girlfriend, and she stayed to at least offer moral support since she couldn't very well write the reports for him without Rollins seeing the difference in their handwriting. If there was ever a time when Steve thought he should have sprung for a Quick-Quotes Quill, it was in the last couple of hours.

Now he was grumpy, hungry, and tired on top of everything else since Jarvis had dropped his little information bomb on them. Then, to add insult to injury, he realized that Bucky would probably be asleep by now even if he hadn't collapsed right when he got home (which had become the norm), leaving Steve to prepare something to eat while brutally berating himself for not just picking up some takeout before heading home.

Grilled cheese a la toaster it is, he sighed as he retrieved his keys from his pocket and unlocked the apartment door. It wasn't the most substantial of meals (or the healthiest according to the voice in his head that sounded uncannily like Peggy's and his mom's at the same time), but at least it was quick and required little effort. He could deal with that and not a whole lot else right now.

The second he stepped through the door, however, Steve was greeted by the cacophony of his Dark Detectors going off and dashed straight to the bookshelf. His Sneakoscope was spinning faster than he'd realized it could go, lit up and whistling in such a high pitch that he was surprised there were no dogs barking in the vicinity. He'd thought it was just malfunctioning over the last couple of weeks since it had taken to going off randomly at all times of the day or night, but now…he wasn't so sure. His Probity Probe was blinking madly right beside it with his Secrecy Sensor vibrating against the wood of the bookshelf until the whole thing was practically shaking apart.

Batting his hands at them didn't help, to absolutely no one's surprise, and they didn't calm when he tried to touch them either. Unsure of what else to do and left with few options, he drew his wand and thought, Silencio!

The noise immediately ceased, although his Sneakoscope and Secrecy Sensor were still moving as they continued to detect whatever had set them off to begin with. The thought put Steve on edge, and he slowly turned with his wand raised at chest height to survey the rest of the apartment. The living room was clear, as was the hall down towards their bedrooms. Both of their doors and the one leading into the bathroom were open, and he took a few steps toward the hall to inspect them when Winter came darting out of the kitchen. She spotted him and immediately skidded on the hardwood to change directions, attacking his legs with her front paws and meowing loudly at him.

"Hey, Win," he cooed, kneeling down slowly with his eyes still sporadically shifting between the cat and the rest of the apartment just in case she'd been running from something—or someone.

Winter pawed wildly at his knees, stopping to run in a circle before repeating the process. It wasn't exactly a normal habit for her, so he frowned in confusion.

"Buck? You here?"

No answer.

"What's the matter?" he whispered to Winter, holding out a hand to pet her head. "You mad he's not here for cudd—ow!"

For the first time ever, Winter intentionally scratched him and meowed furiously in his face when he stuck his finger in his mouth. She'd broken the skin but hadn't drawn blood; if she'd wanted to, he had no doubt that she would have. Regardless, she was trying to tell him something—and it wasn't that she wanted pets and snuggles like she normally would when he came through the door and Bucky wasn't home.

Steve straightened back up and, apparently taking it as evidence that the stupid human was ready to listen, Winter took back off toward the kitchen with Steve trailing along behind her.

"Shit!"

His wand clattered to the floor as he sprinted through the kitchen and literally slid across the tile floor on his knees toward Bucky's prone form. He was sprawled out right in the middle of the kitchen floor, his limbs bent in an almost unnatural way.

"Bucky?" whispered Steve, shaking him gingerly. When he didn't stir even remotely, Steve grabbed both his shoulders and jerked him upright a little less gently than he'd planned. "Bucky? Bucky!"

Nothing. Bucky remained completely limp and unresponsive, his head hanging back on his neck so far that Steve was worried he was hurting him and hurried to return Bucky more carefully to the floor. Steve's chest was heaving as adrenaline pumped through his system. Leaning over Bucky, he placed his fingers to his pulse point in apprehension, not feeling anything at first…

There!

It was thready, but it was there. Steve fell back on his ass and closed his eyes, attempting to calm the panic that was still waging war against his senses and think. Bucky was unconscious but alive—if he'd fallen, Steve had no idea if he'd hit his head or how hard, so it had been a stupid idea to move him, way to go dumbass, but he wasn't sure if it was best to leave him where he was or take him to the hospital—

He was distracted by Winter, who was pawing at his leg again to get his attention. She appeared to be marginally remorseful about attacking his finger a minute ago—not that that matters because what am I going to do about Bucky?!—and used just the pads of her tiny toes to ensure that his eyes were on her when she hopped over Bucky's leg. She made a beeline for his messenger bag, which Bucky must have dropped when he collapsed, and commenced clawing at the clasp with a pleading mewl in Steve's direction.

"Great, because there's gotta be more," he muttered even as he began scooting across the floor anyway. He cast a glance back at Bucky, feeling guilty for not immediately doing something, but he was breathing and had a pulse so Steve could take three seconds to see what Winter the Danger Detector had discovered in the bag.

With trembling hands, Steve had to try a few times to get Bucky's messenger bag open before he managed it, dumping everything out haphazardly when he realized it would take too long to look through it all in a neater fashion. There wasn't much aside from the normal shit Bucky usually carried with him back and forth to S.H.I.E.L.D.—a notebook, some files on new arrivals to familiarize himself with, two binders of emergency contact information for the staff and their daytime attendees, a bottle of water, and…

"What the hell?" he murmured when Winter immediately hissed at a plain little silver coin that he'd nearly missed underneath one of the binders. It almost looked like a Sickle, but there were no markings on the smooth metal. She absolutely refused to get within two feet of the thing, which was enough to tell him something was off about it, and he waited for her to haul ass back over to Bucky before plucking it off the ground. Despite how warm it was both outside and in the apartment, the metal was ice cold to the touch and actually shocked him as if it were charged with electricity.

I wonder…

After shifting back to check Bucky's pulse again, he quickly got to his feet and sprinted back out to the bookshelf to grab his Probity Probe—what had been a flashing light before was a steady luminescence now. Something was up with that coin, and whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

But that was for another time. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about.

So, Steve absentmindedly popped the coin in his pocket to deal with later and returned to the kitchen, where he retrieved his wand from the floor. Winter was perched on Bucky's stomach, kneading her paws into his chest without extending her claws in the most adorably heartbreaking attempt to rouse him that Steve thought he'd ever seen. Sighing, he didn't bother dislodging her as he grabbed the bottle of water that had toppled out with the rest of Bucky's things, thought of St. Mungo's, and whispered, "Portus."

The bottle glowed blue for a moment before returning to its usual appearance. Steve apologized softly to Winter when he pulled her into his arms, clasped Bucky's hand tightly in his free one, and poked a finger away from Winter's fur to touch the Portkey. The three of them were whisked out of the kitchen and into amorphous space as they were transported to the hospital.

Steve didn't bother worrying about the consequences he could face for creating an unauthorized Portkey—he was an Auror and this was an emergency. He'd make whatever he had to in order to get Bucky the help he needed, the Ministry and the rest of the world be damned.

A/N: ...See you tomorrow? 8D