Chapter 11: The Long Road Home

AN: Bucky's finally going back to the US as a free man. Some important plot points are coming up, to lay the groundwork for the later stories. Also the WW2 memorial mentioned wasn't built until 2006, but I like to think it went through because of Steve's memory and the want of his memorial.

Be warned, I think there is going to be lots of emotional crying in this chapter, so have tissues handy. I might cry writing it.

So sorry for the length, I didn't realize that it had gotten so long until I saw the page numbers. Well, it is the long road home, so why not a long chapter.

thank you to my one reviewer for pointing out the little mistake I had made. I added the big reveal to Peggy and Stark just for you.


Joyous Guard: Never had there been a more beautiful sight to Bucky and Steven's eyes than when they saw the shining manor on the hill and the cliff and sandy beach below. Bucky all but wept when the ship finally docked and he stepped foot onto soil he hadn't trod in forty years. Arion and Steven caught him and held him up when his knees threatened to collapse under the onslaught of his emotions. Joy and sorrow, flooded his body, and were most prevalent in his mind. The night before, they had removed his trackers and threw them into the sea, along with the kill-switch and other control features not necessary to the arm's function. When this was finished, it was as if a veil had lifted from his mind, and for the first time realized that someone was missing from the group. A face that at first he couldn't place a name to until he remembered the day Steven was born. Against logic and driven by fear he asked, when the group was together, the question that was troubling his mind.

"Where's Steve?" The group collectively froze on the spot, and Bucky looked at them with worry and mounting fear that something was terribly wrong. "Where is Steve?" he asked again with a harder voice, but they all could sense the fear and dread in his voice. They all remained silent for a long moment, sorrow and old grief clouding their features. Panic raced across Bucky's features and his breathing became uneven. It was Peggy who finally broke the silence and put words to Bucky's mounting dread.

"Steve," Peggy said, her voice cracking and eyes filling with tears. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat and steeled herself for the conversation that she thought she would never have. "Steve…" she paused took a cleansing breath and continued, "a few weeks after your… after you fell… Steve went after the last HYDRA base. It was in the Alps, and Steve was able to get us in. We almost didn't make it in time. Schmidt… he built a plane that could take him and several bombs to the states. He called the bomber the Valkyrie and with it he was going to raze the world's major cities to the ground. By the time we got there, Schmidt had already taken off. Steve was lucky to get on the plane. That was the last time I saw him." Peggy could barely hold the tears back, just by looking at Bucky's face. Heartbroken couldn't even come close to the expression on his face. He looked crushed and devastated. His tears flowed freely and he clenched his jaw, desperately holding back the sobs building in his chest. He opened and closed his mouth several times; not trusting his voice not to crack. Peggy soldiered on. "By the time we made contact again, he told us that Schmidt was dead and… the plane was… was headed for New York."

Bucky let out a gasping sob then, and clutched at Arion's offered hand. Steven stood aside, his face like stone save for the tears running like rivers down his face. He knew what happened next. After all, it was how they finally broke him.

"Steve," Peggy croaked, tears finally flowing, "he… he put the plane in the water… somewhere off Canada in the arctic. He saved the world, and gave his own life for it!"

The dams finally burst and Bucky let loose a choked wail. Arion gathered him into his arms and let Bucky wail and scream into his chest, all the while tears of his own were running down his face and into Bucky's hair. Bucky clutched at him for dear life, and Arion let him. He became Bucky's anchor of emotion, and pillar of strength, while Bucky crumbled and fell to pieces in his arms. Bucky's sobs and wails were an ugly thing; all gasping breaths and gut wrenching screams. Steven's grief was quiet but every now and again, his breath would hitch and a small whimper would escape his mouth. Arion looked up at him and saw the aged grief and hopeless despair in his son's eyes. With a tight smile, he lifted his arm and beckoned him in. With a sob, Steven collapsed into his father's embrace, and held onto his parents as he grieved with them. It took several minutes to calm him down, but eventually Bucky stopped wailing and screaming out his anguish. He pulled away from his beloved and their son with a quivering smile, and looked at Peggy.

"Did he suf…" Bucky asked and swallowed down a sob. "Was he afraid? Did he suffer?" Peggy kept a stiff upper-lip but even her resolve not to break down in tears was cracking. Even forty years later, and the pain was still strong.

"I stayed on the line with him," she said softly. "I spoke with him the whole time. We… we made plans… to go dancing." Bucky let out a watery giggle at that.

"He was a horrible dancer," Bucky said with a watery smile. "Had two left feet; you'd never know he was mostly elvish!" the group shared a weak chuckle, and Bucky looked back at Peggy again. "What else?"

"I told him I'd show him how to dance," she said softly. "He…" Peggy took a fortifying breath to stop her crying and smiled at Bucky. "Howard said it… it was likely he hit his head on the instrument panel. He probably never felt a thing." Bucky let out a wounded sound, and buried his face in Arion's chest again.

"He would have been unconscious, probably had a concussion," Howard said hollowly, staring into his drink. "He would have slipped into a coma from hypothermia and … it would have been like he fell asleep. I doubt he felt anything after the crash." Howard stared at his drink for a long time, remembering the first recovery mission, when he made the decision to keep looking for Steve; not Captain America, Steve. "I still look for him. Every year, I look, but we have no idea where he went down."

"You mean you never found him!?" Bucky shouted; his face contorted with horrified shock. Howard shook his head.

"Officially, Steve was labeled Missing in Action, possibly dead," Howard said with a hollow voice, "the army won't declare him officially dead until they find the body. There ain't no body; nobody ain't dead; as they say. Hence the search and recovery missions every year that I fund out of my own pocket. They stopped; I didn't." Bucky smiled weakly at his old friend. Howard smiled back with a little more life in his eyes again. "I will find him, Barnes. I promise. If it takes me 'til the next millennium to find him, I will. Steve won't stay out there forever. He'll get his funeral, he'll be with his parents; you have my word!"

Bucky felt the weight of the past few days greatly. And finally being on friendly soil again, allied soil, made his heart soar. He walked into the house, remembering with perfect clarity the last time he stood on those floors and walked the halls, he was with Steve. He felt alive again, and more himself than he had in years. Bucky made for the living room but stopped and turned into the library. He smiled in nostalgia. It was exactly the same. The rug, the sofa, the chairs; even the book shelves were the same. The only thing different was the large painting over the fireplace mantle. Bucky smiled softly and sadly. It was the painting Steve did of the photograph he took of Fëanor and his whole family, reunited and reconciled. It was the picture Bucky had liked the most out of the lot, and Steve had put his paints to use and made his one and only painting. Bucky and Steven had thought it was gorgeous, but Steve was a perfectionist when it came to art, and worked at it for weeks before he finally gifted it to the elf as a Christmas present. Bucky sighed and sat down on the familiar sofa before curling up on his side to rest.


He was a woken several hours later by a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bucky blurrily blinked up at his host and smiled contentedly. He sat up and stretched languidly like a cat before he made note of the tray of food before him with a grin. Joshua smiled and let him dig into his simple meal of mashed fruit and a rich vegetable and beef broth. Steven warned them not to give his Ada any heavy solid food for a few days, to let his stomach re-accustom itself to anything but nutrient mush. Bucky looked up from his soup and saw Adrian smiling at him from the other loveseat. Steve flashed him a quick smile before he focused back on his food. A few moments later the others arrive just as Bucky was setting down his bowls, licking his lips and the spoon several times to get every last drop. He blushed at the collective chuckle it produced from the others, and set the spoon down.

"So," Maedhros said with his arms crossed over his chest, after a long pause, "Steven told us about your little identity issue." After a second of confusion and furrowing his brow, Bucky gasped and nodded, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

"Ah, that," he said with a small awkward smile, "it's not so much of an issue as it used to be."

"Ada," Steve said with a stern scowl. "Yasha is completely separate personality and has a great deal of the Soldier's instincts and conditioning, built into his psyche. I wouldn't say that it is a non-issue in the least!" Steven glared. He knew Yasha's mind, he was in his mind enough to know the difference between them, and Yasha was a problem. Bucky smiled and chuckled.

"It's not an issue anymore, because," he said, "Yasha is no longer a loyalist."

"That's impossible," Steven exclaimed, "he was formed from the Soldier and was made to be loyal; he can't not be: it's in his programming!" Bucky sent his son a cold and hard look.

"Just like it's in my programming, Steven; in yours," he said, and Steven flinched. Bucky'd struck a nerve just as he had intended, but his face softened and he smiled. "And I didn't mean he was never a loyalist. I said, he is no longer a loyalist; big difference! He ceased to be after he realized some things, chief of which was that he was being used, and saw what they put you through. He wants no part of it; not any more. Michael is going to help me with him, and as soon as Yasha is ready, he is going to make him his own body." Steven started and looked at his Ada in shock. The others held similar expressions of disbelief.

"Who's Michael," Stark asked. Steven and the others winced. Bucky looked uncertain but felt a calming nudge from the current passenger in his mind.

"Michael is, ha… well, he's Michael," Bucky said unsure as to tell his friend's he was currently possessed by the most powerful of all the archangels.

"St. Michael the Archangel, general and commander of the Holy seven Legions," Steven answered for him. Stark's gaze zeroed in on the sergeant with skepticism.

"There's no such thing," Stark snorted. Bucky's eye twitched and Steven looked at the others for help but they just shrugged their shoulders. They had no idea how to convert ardent skeptic Howard Stark into believing that an honest to God Archangel was using their sergeant as a vessel.

Suddenly Bucky felt himself being shoved down as Michael surged to the surface with ire and irritation, and the others gasped in shock as his eyes began to glow and turned vibrant cobalt. The whole room began to shake and the lights flickered out. Lightning flashed, and just like at the base the massive shadowy outline of wings began to spread across the wall.

"This is you problem, Howard Stark," Michael said, his voice echoing with a thousand others, "You have no faith." Howard paled and sank back in his seat. And just as suddenly as he arose, Michael dove back under the surface; pushing Bucky back up again. Bucky looked at Stark with a look that said "you believe me now?" and Howard chuckled nervously, before tugging at his collar.

"Peg is never going to believe this," He mumbled.

"I think she believes just fine," Peggy said from the doorway, the picture of composure. But signs of shock and no small amount of fear could be seen in her eyes. Michael had shocked and unnerved her.

"So Michael, "Howard chucked nervously, taking a sip of his drink, "He can do that?" Stark asked. Bucky nodded.

"Then why does he need you," Steven asked, and Bucky licked his lips as his brows furrowed in thought. It took him a moment before he spoke and haltingly answered.

"Michael says that it is possible to create a vessel for himself," he said carefully as if he was trying to wrap his head around the idea or the concept. "but it takes a lot of time and energy to do that, and most of the time they don't look right because they are rushed, also because it is very noticeable, and he wants to stay off his brothers radar; so to speak. He says that it will take time, and that is time he didn't have. Yasha has agreed to this." Bucky said imploringly, "he agreed to remain under the surface for as long as it took to make his body. I know this is confusing, it's confusing me, but Michael hasn't lied. I can feel it. It's different now. Yasha's thoughts are not tangled in mine anymore. And the Soldier is even farther down; I can hardly feel the … anything about it anymore!" Bucky smiled, full of wonder and joy, and after a moment Steven did too. There was relief in his grin as well as joy, for Steven did not want to take another life; especially not one that had been his only refuge in his darkest hours.

"So he's safe," Stark asked. Bucky nodded, and the group smiled and sighed in relief. "Good! Well," Howard said with a clap of his hands, "now that we have that messiness out of the way, Fëanor and I are going to get to work on the skeleton of the internal structure. We could use your help too, Steven," he said and pointed at the technopath. Steven blinked in surprise and smiled.

"I'd be delighted to help, Howard," he said. He stood up and started to follow the two inventors out of the room. "I actually have some ideas about improving the artificial nerve-system. Have you ever heard of fiber optic wires?" Bucky smiled, as the conversation finally drifted out of the room and beyond his hearing.

Bucky sighed in relief, at Howard's quick deflection back to what he cared about. It was clear the inventor was unnerved, but he wasn't the type of man to show it. Peggy moved into the room briefly after Steven and Howard had left and set her hand on Bucky's shoulder in a sign of comfort but quickly left. Michael was an unknown to her, and she needed time to process what she had seen and heard. The others took it quite well but Peggy and Howard didn't see what Michael did, and the Archangel had no intention of a repeat performance in the near or distant future. A wistful smile stretch across his face as he pushed those thoughts out of his head and focused on his son. He looked up at the group, and wished that a certain someone was there with them.

"Steven's going to be having a blast," he said to Arion and the group. His smile was wistful and serene, but there was a touch of sadness to it. "I wish Steve was here," he said and Arion moved to sit beside him and took his hand. Bucky's smile returned but it was filled with age old hurt. "He would know how to encourage Stevie's talents." Bucky paused and gripped Arion's hand tighter as the tears threatened. "I always knew he was gonna die first, it's just… I never wanted to see the day come, ya know? I did everything I could to keep him alive, and what does he do?" Bucky laughed brokenly, "The moment I leave he gets shot up with that Serum, and joins the War! He was supposed to stay away!" Bucky sobbed, "The minute I'm gone, he went on a damned suicide mission and killed himself to save the world!" Bucky ranted a snarl on his face but tears in his eyes. He broke down in tears when Arion wrapped his arm around him. "I miss him so much!"

"It's alright, love," he said, "Steve wouldn't want you to dwell. He would want you to live your life. Make something better for yourself than what you were given. Take your life, take what HYDRA gave you and turn it into something good; into something that can help people!"

Bucky calmed and genuinely thought about what Arion said. To make his life something good again, would be a big snub at HYDRA and all their work on him, but to turn what they had created into something that could save lives instead of destroy them; that would be the ultimate snub of all. Bucky thought for the first time about his life after the War. What he'd planned to do with himself, and how he was going to make the world better. A smile grew on his face as he remembered his pre-med courses at the Manhattan College, where he took his electives with Steve for cheap just before the war broke out. Then he realized that he could go back to that: go back to school to become a doctor, just as he had planned to be. With the knowledge he had from HYDRA on anatomy and with some extra studying, he could be a doctor. Bucky smiled and thought if he could be a doctor and he wanted to snub HYDRA, then why not take their own weapon and turn it into something that could make ordinary people's lives better again after being broken. A surgeon, he thought, he could be a surgeon. With extra work he could be the best in his field, but Bucky wanted more. He wanted to not only be the best, no; he wanted to pioneer a new field of surgery and prosthetics.

"I am going to use this against them," he said, flexing his metal hand, and looked up at Arion. "I am going to use what they gave me and become a doctor for this," he said motioning to his metal hand. "I am going to become a surgeon of prosthetics and limb re-attachment. I am going to make things right." Arion smiled and wrapped his arms around his beloved.

"You have my support, James," he said, "but first we need to ensure that you have your freedom returned." Bucky nodded and pulled away to look him in the eye.

"What do you need me to do," he asked.

"We already told Steven this," Arion said. "It is only fair that you know the plan too." Bucky nodded and settled in to listen. For the next few minutes Bucky quietly listened to Arion explain Fëanor's idea about taking what they knew, what he and Steven knew, to President Reagan. Bucky sat quietly in introspection thinking about every possible outcome.

"Do we have any idea how he will react," he asked after a moment. The group looked at each other with nervousness and no small amount of worry. If Bucky rejected this idea, then they had no idea what to do about his freedom.

"Not in the slightest," Falsworth finally said. "But that's no less than what we used to go on for our plans back in the good old days. I do think it's worth a shot, Sergeant. After all you are a War Hero, and a member of the Commandoes." Dugan laughed and patted Bucky's shoulder to loosen him up.

"I have it on good authority, that Reagan idolized us Commandoes," Dugan said, and Arion looked at him in surprise and apprehension. "What? Am I not allowed to have sources? I have ears, I read the papers; watch the news too. He's mentioned it several times, many times saying that he wished he took the time to get to know Rogers, before he took off for Europe and became a big Hero. The last time, he said that he wished that he had the chance to meet the man that Steve talked so much about. That was you, Barnes. Steve talked about you to Reagan on his tour. Reagan said he wished he had the chance to know you." Dugan spread his arms wide and grinned. "Well, now he has the chance!" Bucky looked at Dugan in shock, and a blush spreading a little across his cheeks. Steve was still changing his life, even after he was gone. He might just have given him the chance he needed.


The next few weeks were nothing short of slow for the rescue team. It felt as if time could not go any slower than it did. Many a comment was made on it being as slow as molasses in January, but time moved ever forward as it always does. Howard and Peggy avoided Bucky for quite a few days before they managed to get past the shock, but after that it was business as usual; slow. The only times when it felt as if time was rushing past were in the middle of the night. Bucky seemed fine in the light of day, but all could tell that the nights finally came to take their toll on the poor man. Many a time the Commandoes or one of the team with more sensitive hearing would wake to his echoing screams of torment. More than once Steven had to go into the room to physically restrain him lest he hurt himself and the baby. And it wasn't just the screams that disturbed them, it was the wails and begging afterward, when he had woken but was still trapped in the nightmare's clutches.

After nearly a week straight of night after night, waking to his screams and begging, Steven finally crumpled under the weight. After finally snapping Bucky out of his episode, Steven left the room and found a dark corner to slide down the wall and huddle into himself in. He sobbed into his bony knees and wept bitter tears at his own helplessness. He huddled there for a long while, overcome by his own helplessness and the despair in his own heart, and more than once he felt the darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision; beckoning him away. Steven shook his head and pushed down his feelings of despair, because he knew that nothing good would become of it. He still sat there and cried at his Ada's brokenness, even though he was far more broken than his Ada; the sharp edges in his mind and black spots in his memory were more than enough proof of this.

He finally looked up when he heard careful footsteps approaching his hidden place. When he did, he saw Maedhros standing before him with a sympathizing smile. Steven watched as the redhead folded his long legs and tall form up and into the spot beside him. Maedhros didn't look at him but kept his eyes on the pattern of the wallpaper across from them. After a moment Steven looked back at his knees and tried to push away his emotions.

"When I first came back from… there," Maedhros said after a moment, and Steven looked up sharply to stare at him. "My brothers didn't understand. I would have nightmares every night. Not even my Findekáno's warm touch and soothing presence could keep the dark visions away. It was so hard to be strong when all they saw was a broken elf, not their big brother. After a while, I started taking sleeping draughts so I wouldn't dream. Don't think you are alone, Steven," he said and finally turned to look at the younger half-elf, "you are far from alone! I understand what you are going through, and it will take time to become yourself again. Just wait, you'll see." Steven smiled weakly and nodded. If anyone knew what they were going through, it was Maedhros.

"Thanks," Steven said after a moment. "I needed to hear that." Maedhros turned and set his hand on Steven's knee as he moved to stand.

"It will get better, Steven," he said and smiled, "you will see. It just takes time. Time is the only thing that can heal this wound; Time and a listening ear." Steven tried to muster a smile but it turned brittle and was more of a grimace than a smile. Maedhros turned and was about to walk away, when Steven spoke, his eyes distant and hollowed out.

"The first time they had me kill someone, I cried until I threw up," he said. Maedhros stopped, turned around to look at him and saw the haunted look in Steven's eyes. "I curled up into a little ball in my cage and cried, like I was a baby. I didn't start crying until they had me in the van, heading back to base. When I started, I couldn't stop. I finally realized what I was about to become, what they made me into, and all I could do was cry." Steven laughed bitterly, and didn't hide the tears running down his face. Maedhros sat down in front of him, just to give Steven something tangible to look at. Steven locked eyes with him and gave him the most broken and helpless look Maedhros had ever seen outside his own mirror.

"I realized I couldn't do it. It was after that that the psychic conditioning started; for both of us. For Ada, it was a sequence of words they recited after a wipe, when he was removed from cryo: ten words. That's all it took to turn Ada into a killing machine. For me, it was so much worse! They made phrases and little rhymes into something that would make me compliant enough for a memory imprint. All they had to do, when the mission was done, was to say the pass-phrase and it would all unravel. I would wake up, and realize what I had done. Every time they took me out, was a living nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. Ada at least couldn't say no; of course not. They kept him so hopped up on the drugs and the conditioning tied him up so much that he was no better than a robot! Just give him the target and he would take 'em out. Didn't matter how, our where, he would do it; and you couldn't run fast enough or far enough to get away." Maedhros sat in silence and lent a sympathetic ear to Steven's woes. After a while Steven calmed down and Maedhros slid over to wrap his arm around Steven's shoulder. Steven leaned into it with all the desperation of a man who was touch starved, and just needed simple human contact without pain.

"It will get better, Steven," Maedhros said. "Just by talking, it is getting better, isn't it?" Steven sniffled, and nodded. A small smiled pulled at his lips, and he buried himself deeper into the redhead's embrace. That is where the two were found not much later, by Arion: Steven leaning into Maedhros' chest, with Maedhros' arm around the blond man. Arion smiled and moved to Steven's other side. When Steven looked over and saw him, he pulled away and instantly fell into his father's arms. Steven wept and clung to him for a while until he finally had control of his emotions.

"It will be better, my son," he said. "Don't you worry; it will get better soon."

And he was right. The following days were blissfully nightmare free, and Steven was rested enough and strong enough to get to work with Howard and Fëanor. The work kept him from dwelling. Fëanor's internal work was nearly done, by the time Arion finally approached him with the plan to go to the President with their information and throw themselves on his mercy. It was no lightly thing for Steven and Bucky to consider, but if turning States evidence was the only way to get rid of the men that controlled and used them for good, then that was only one course they could and would take.


Returning to the States was a trial in and of itself, what with Bucky having to go through security and other pains just to set foot in Washington DC. But when they did arrive, Steven and Bucky were squirreled away into a hotel near the White House. Bucky thought it ironic that the first monument he would see returning to the States a free man would be the White House, when he had never seen it before and had never been to Washington in his life. Steven was just glad for the plush accommodations Howard had procured for them. Stark had gone back home after Steven off handedly suggested that he take the designs to his son, Tony, so that the two of them might work on the robotics and electronic part of the Arm together. Steven smiled at the thought that Howard was getting to know his son better because of his own Ada, and his work would help a man he had only ever heard about in stories.

Bucky, on the other hand, was going stir crazy, waiting for Arion and Peggy to return from setting up their meeting, and private conference. He prowled the room like a caged tiger, and after a good hour of watching him do this, Steven had finally had enough.

"Ada," Steven snapped, causing Bucky to jolt and look sharply at him, "please, stop! Worrying won't help anything, and your pacing is driving me nuts!" Bucky fisted his hands in his hair and growled in frustration.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Bucky asked harshly, jerking his hands away from his hair. He shrugged his shoulders and spread his arms wide in frustrated confusion. "just stay here until my fate is decided and they send in the swat teams to take us down, or maybe wait for the bullet to go through my head?!" Steven rolled his eyes at Bucky's dramatics, and set aside his reading to sit up and look at his Ada.

"You're thinking of the absolute worst case scenario, Ada," Steven said. "I've done my recon, this guy won't do that." Bucky snorted in derision. "Ada, he's as old as you… no, wait, he's actually older than you! He's a responsible man and he genuinely cares about people, Ada. He kept the film reels about Auschwitz. He wanted people to know the truth! Ada, they're calling this man the best thing for the country since Roosevelt and the greatest republican since Lincoln! He's a good man, Ada. He joined the reserves before the war! He did everything he could to help us troops over here." Bucky looked skeptical and worried, but there was a seed of doubt, and Steven lunged for it like a lioness. "He liked Steve, Ada." Bucky looked up sharply, his eyes wide as saucers.

"He did," Bucky asked timidly. Steven nodded fervently with a grin.

"Yes, he did," Steven confirmed. "Reagan said that he could only wish that he could live up to Steve's goodness and faith in humanity, and his hope to make the world better. He has said many a time that he wished Steve was on his cabinet to council him and to give him hope and advice. Ada, he idolizes Steve, and does everything he can to make this world the better place Steve wished for. I remember Steve mentioning meeting him. He said he was a good man. Those are Steve's words, Ada; not mine! Have a little faith in Steve's judgment."

Bucky calmed a little and sagged in on himself, before he nodded in acquiescence and sat down in a chair by the bed to watch the TV. Steven sighed in relief and picked up his reading. After a moment though, he had to put it aside again, when Bucky started tapping his finger on his thigh and bouncing his leg up and down.

"Ada," Steven said softly, "what's really bothering you?" Bucky looked at his son sheepishly and worried his lip for a minute. "Ada, I could just read you; you know that." Steven raised his brows encouragingly and Bucky finally caved.

"Steve's memorial is here," he said, and Steven's eyes went instantly soft and sad with understanding. "I thought I would get a chance to see it before I go to the axe," Steven opened his mouth to rebuke this, but decided against it. "I know Steve's grave is next to his ma, and his Dad's, but I would like to see the memorial wall. They had a statue of Steve commissioned by some artist from New York; it was a guy Steve knew. There's a picture of it in the history books in Fëanor's library. It was exactly what Steve would want: nothing flashy or overstated, but classical and … I cried when I saw the picture. He captured every bit of Steve's essence and the sorrow in the figures." Steven knew what statue Bucky was talking about and a lump lodged itself in his throat. He saw it too.

The statue evoked the memory of Michelangelo's pieta, with Steve kneeling on the ground, his shield cast aside as he held Bucky's lifeless form in his arms. The artist knew Steve just enough to express the expression of Steve's face with perfection: shock and bone deep grief. Behind him was Bucky's ghostly image carved from marble, his face calm but still invoked a sense of sorrow from his face. Bucky's ghostly hand was setting on Steve's bronze shoulder. Bucky's ghostly form was draped in his field uniform with his dark blue pea coat, whereas the one in Steve's arms was wearing his army field greens; something Bucky had not worn since he joined the Commandoes had was given his new uniform. It portrayed his Ada as a regular soldier that Steve mourned over and felt the loss of keenly; something that Steve had felt very much, in reality. Every soldier lost under his command was a son, brother, husband, that would not be going home, and Steve never wanted to feel that guilt. So he became the shield, he went first, or no one went. He would rather risk his life than the lives of his men. It defined him, and the world hardly ever saw it. Only in his Memorial statue was this shown. The plaque was even made with Steve's own words.

"I would rather die myself, than see good men go home in boxes. I will gladly pay the price of freedom, if it meant not one more life is lost. This is my choice."

Steve's words reminded the world that saw it, that that was precisely what he did; Steve paid the ultimate price for freedom, and never came home. Steve's statue marked the entrance to the memorial. It was the first thing people saw when they went in, and the last when they left. It was a reminder of how high the price of freedom was to Steve and those that loved and lost him: his life and the life of his dearest friend. His last words to Peggy, that were not intimate, were cast into bronze for all the world to see. Every school child knew his words to Peggy from the moment they released the recording on the tenth anniversary of his death.

Those words, simple as they were, were a constant reminder of the sacrifice Steve made so that others could live free; a sacrifice he made so willingly. Steven swallowed down his tears and looked up at his Ada, seeking his understanding. Bucky's gaze was only imploring, an aching need to see Steve's face, if only in bronze, and get some closure to his pain. After a moment Steven nodded.

"Okay, Ada," he croaked behind his tears. "We'll go, but I'm not letting you go out there looking like this."

Steven stood up and pulled his Ada to the closet. He opened the wardrobe to show him Bucky's fine dress greens. Bucky gasped, when he saw it. He hadn't worn it since that last night in New York with Steve at the Fair, and to his shock, there, lined up above his left breast pocket, were his medals. Every ribbon from every honor he was given throughout the war was perfectly lined, little metal medallions dangling and covering one another. Everything was there, just the way he had worn it, belt hat and all. Bucky almost cried, when he saw the Purple Heart with valor, knowing that it was because of his fall he was awarded that. Steven pulled the uniform out on its hanger and handed it to his Ada with a smile.

"Put it on, and I'll do you up to look like an old man. No one will notice you dressed like that."

Bucky smirked at Steven's antics and took the uniform over to the bed to start work on getting dressed. It only took a few moments to strip down to his skivvies and socks, and re-dress in the uniform. As he did, Bucky felt himself going through motions that were as easy as breathing. The pants came first, and then the undershirt, then the blouse and tie, before he put on the coat; always careful it didn't wrinkle. Bucky pulled on his shiny black shoes and laced them up. Once he was finally squared away, he had Steven pull his hair back in a French-twist braid at the nape of his neck. The hat went on last, and Bucky found himself putting it at a jaunty angle, just as he used to. He didn't even realize he was doing it; it was all muscle memory. Bucky looked in the mirror and took in a sharp breath through his nose.

"I look like me again," he said staring at his reflection.

And indeed he did. Every line and bulge reflected to his former self. And though his hair was long, Bucky still saw that young soldier he once was staring back at him. Bucky looked at the medals pinned to his chest and realized this is what he would have looked like if he had made it through the war and came home.

Steven smiled and hugged his Ada from behind. Bucky smiled back at him in the mirror and held Steven's arms closer to his body. Steven pulled away and with a wave of his hand, Bucky jerked back. He saw that his face had suddenly become far older, and his hair was now shot with white. Steven grinned at his handy work and Bucky ran a hand over his face. He laughed, when he found that it was still smooth to his hand but not to his eye.

"You like it, Ada," Steven asked. "I've been using things like this for a while now. They're like a glamor, so it's only what you see; like a mask made of light." Bucky chuckled and marveled at his aged face.

"Amazing," Bucky awed, looking left and right for any kind of flaw, "Stevie, you do this all the time?" Steven nodded. "Wow! My son is Merlin!" Steven blushed and Bucky pulled him in for a hug. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you. Now," he said turning around and clapping Steven's shoulders, "we should get going before it gets too crowded." Bucky moved to leave but Steven cleared his throat. "What?" he asked in confusion his hand on the door knob. Steven shook his head and smiled.

"We should leave a note so they know where we're going, if they get back before we do," he said. Bucky flushed in embarrassment and went back to the end table to write a note on the note pad.

"Gone to the Memorial; be back before lunch."

Steven smiled, when Bucky signed it with his own name and a few kisses. Minutes later they were out the door and on their way to the memorial. Foot traffic was light and they didn't meet much resistance before they finally came to stand before the memorial. The statue was even more impressive in person than it was in pictures, and it evoked more emotion too. Bucky and Steven slowly walked the walls and the domes until they reached the Wall of Freedom. There Steven and Bucky stood motionless as they gazed at the stars of the men that died in the war and for freedom. Bucky stood beside the wall and set his hand on it, before he bowed his head, knowing that one of those stars was for Steve. He moved to stand before the wall proper and looked down. Before their feet lay a simple placard carved from stone.

HERE WE MARK THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

Bucky crumpled then, and fell to his knees, covering his mouth with his gloved hand. He reached out and placed his free hand on the plaque feeling the smooth stone and cut letters under his fingers. His hand fell to cover the word Price for a moment, before he moved and sat back on his haunches; his head bowed. Steven knelt down beside him, and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. The Price of Freedom; such simple words, yet they evoked so much power and emotion: simple words that conveyed the truth of everything.

Steven and Bucky knelt there for several moments before a hand came to rest on Bucky's left shoulder. The two looked up and saw a young soldier's face smile sadly down at them.

"You lose a friend in your unit, sir," he asked. Bucky smiled sadly and warmly.

"Son, you don't know the half of it," he croaked. The soldier smiled, and Bucky noted he was a young lieutenant and an Army Ranger. "I lost my best friend. He was my captain."

"I haven't thought about this place in a while," He said, "I like to come and look at the Captain's Memorial to remember the important things." The man turned and held out his hand. "Phil Coulson, Sergeant. It's an honor to meet you. What unit were you in?" Bucky smiled at the innocence in the young man.

"107th infantry of New York," he said with a small but proud smile. "I was later reassigned to a different unit after mine was rescued in Italy in '43. I didn't mind. I had a hell of a Captain to follow." The Lieutenant smiled before offering the two men a brief salute, and waking away.

"Thank you for your service, Sergeant," he said as he dropped the salute, "I hope we new recruits can measure up." Bucky smiled at the man as he walked away, glad there was someone who cared. As they looked over their shoulders, as the man walked away, they saw Arion and Peggy walking towards them. The two shared a look, before they straightened their appearance and stood to meet their fate.


Bucky walked through the halls of the White House toward the Oval office with something a bit like excitement and apprehension churning in his gut; just being in the same building as the man who would decide his fate made his stomach churn and twitch. Steven held his hand and gave it a squeeze every now and then to reassure him that everything was going to be fine. Before he knew it, he was standing before the door of the Oval Office waiting to be admitted to his meeting. Bucky sat down in one of the plush chairs, and tapped his thumbs together, generally just doing anything to alleviate his stress. The carpets were beautiful, and he had no doubt that Reagan's wife picked them, Bucky thought with a whimsical smile. Everything about the look screamed classy and elegance, that seemed more up a woman's alley than a cowboy like Reagan.

Before they knew it the door opened and a young secretary came out to meet them, clutching a black leather binder that could only be an itinerary planner. She smiled at them and waved them up.

"The President will see you now," she said. Both Bucky and Steven stood up, smoothed their jackets, straightened their collars and ties in stress, before following Peggy and Arion inside, as the lady ushered them inside. She closed the door behind them and left them to it. Bucky pulled his hat straighter, and tried to calm his face. The mask Steven gave him was gone, showing the eternally youthful features he carried now.

Bucky took in the cream and silver qualities of the rug and the rust red and gold drapes, before his gaze was finally brought to the man sitting at the ornate desk. Bucky swallowed back his nervousness, as he took in the aged actor's face. His dark brown hair was shot with silver, and his recognizable handsome face was lined with age, but signs of many smiles. He wore a simple grey suit with a dark red tie, and his hair was pulled back in the same style he always wore it in. while the man looked old, he was by no means frail. His physique was still strong and slim, and he looked good; despite the lines of age upon him.

He was sitting in his chair with his hand's folded carefully on the top of the desk, his expression neutral, but still showing signs of sympathy. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped forward. As he did so, Reagan stood up from his chair to stand calmly behind the desk. Bucky removed his cap, when he reached the desk, tucked it under his arm, sharply clicked his heels, straightened his back, and pulled a very formal salute.

"Sergeant James Barnes, reporting in, SIR!" he snapped out on reflex. Steven pulled into his own stiff backed salute but kept his eyes on the man before them. Bucky took his eyes off the wall and moved them to the man before them. Reagan was straight faced and blank for a moment, until he clicked his own heels and returned their salutes.

"At ease, Sergeant," he said, dropping the salute. "You too, Captain." Steven and Bucky dropped into parade rest and looked at the now smiling President. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Sergeant." He said and came around the desk to shake Bucky's hand. "I've heard so much about you. Please have a seat," he said after dropping Bucky's hand, motioning them to the two cream colored sofas. Steven shook Reagan's hand when he offered it and moved to sit beside Bucky on the left sofa. Peggy took her seat in the high-back, and Arion carefully sat down on Bucky's right; taking his hand and offering comfort.

"Now," Reagan said once he was finally settled, "how can I help you? Director Carter, and Agent Adria have already given me a briefing on this, and I must say it is … incredible, and saddening. I do hope that I can help you both, Sergeant; Captain." Bucky let go of Arion's hands and laced his fingers together before him, elbows on his knees. He looked every bit the penitent man seeking mercy.

"I can give you the names, aliases, and locations of every KGB sleeper agent, spy, or plant inside the US," he said. Reagan's eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded for him to continue. "I can also give the names and aliases of similar agents in the UK, France, and most of the western world." Reagan nodded and leaned forward.

"And what do you want in return," he asked. Bucky's eyes went misty and he swallowed back his tears. He looked down at his hand, and tried to calm his breathing.

"I want my life back," he croaked when he looked up. "They took everything from me, and I just want it back! I want to have what they said we could have, after the War: a house, the promise of a paid education, and a future." Reagan looked thoughtful for a moment before he turned sympathetic eyes back on the younger man.

"I can understand that," he said, "and if your information is good, it would be invaluable to us. Sergeant Barnes…" Reagan paused and seemed unsure of how to ask his question for a moment, "I was told that the reason you have this information was because you were one of the KGB's agents. If I am misinformed, please correct me. Right now, all I want is the truth." Bucky swallowed hard against a lump of regret and grief that lodged itself in his throat.

"No, ah… that was … your information was correct," he said softly and haltingly. Bucky turned his tear-filled eyes on the older man and gathered what little courage he had left. "When I fell from the train, I was hurt; badly. Steven found me, tried to patch me up, but they found us first. They … conditioned us; turned us into weapons." Bucky squared his jaw, removed his left glove, and mustered up his finally words, "I became the Fist of HYDRA: the Winter Soldier." Reagan sat back with a long breath and stared at Bucky and his silver hand for a long time. He contemplated something for a long while, Bucky could tell, before he came to a conclusion. Reagan stood to his feet and went back to his desk. He pressed the intercom and the secretary answered.

"Yes, Mr. President?" she asked.

"Could you bring in a tape recorder and a video camera, Miss Drake," he said. "And cancel my appointments for the next few hours."

"Of course, sir," she answered, "will that be all, Sir?"

"That will be all, Sue," he said and ended the call. Bucky gasped and shock and relief. He dropped his head to his clasped hands, and thanked every saint and God in heaven for mercy. Reagan turned to look at him, before he moved to kneel before Bucky and took his clasped hands away from his forehead.

"Bucky, I need to know everything that happened to you both out there. I need you to give a full testimony of what happened after you fell, and what they did to make you into the most notorious assassin in the world. Can you give me this, Sergeant? I need all of it, if we are to prosecute these men to the fullest extent of the law in the States, and be tried for War Crimes under the Geneva conventions." Bucky gasped and looked up with an awed smile, turning to look at Steven with hopeful eyes.

"I'll tell you everything, Sir," he said.


This is the written transcript of Sergeant Barnes (AKA the Winter Soldier's) testimony against the terrorist organization known as HYDRA and their core leaders and scientists. Below is his affidavit; sworn before three witnesses, followed by Captain Buchanan (AKA the Winter Knight's) own affidavit.

The witnesses are as follows:

Director Margaret "Peggy" Carter of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistic Division (SHIELD)

Agent Arion Ingwion "codename: Míriel Adria" of British Intelligence and MI6

President Ronald Reagan of the United States of America

Court authorized person(s):

Legal Assistant to US Attorney General Edwin Meese; and Lawyer for the White House (name omitted for personal protection)


(Blank camera screen for a moment before it changes to show three men sitting together on a sofa. They are in the Oval Office, and a figure speaks just off screen.)

"We're on, Sergeant. Just tell us everything you remember. Take your time."

(The man in the middle squirms in his seat before he looks up at the camera. There is a microphone set up on the table attached to an audio-tape recorder.)

"I don't know how to start." (He whispered, uncertain.)

(The man to his right touches a gentle hand to his back.)

"Start with your name, and go from there." (He said, and the man in the middle nods.)

(He looks up at the camera and begins to speak.)

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was… I am a Sergeant in the US Army. My friend's call me Bucky. I was assigned to the 107th infantry of New York in the year 1943. I was sent to Italy were my company and several others were tasked with taking the city of Azzano. We were captured by the Nazi splinter group known as HYDRA. We were… taken to a factory in Krausberg, no… um…k… Kreischberg … where, uh…um…"

(The man looks visibly disturbed and swallows. He licks his lips and continues.)

"Where we were forced to work on the factory floor to make Schmidt's bombs. When we were no longer strong enough to work, some of us were taken back into an isolation ward on the other side of the factory, where… a… where a man named Arnim Zola experimented on us."

(The man's gaze became distant and blank.)

"We could hear their screams all the way across the factory, in our cells. They didn't stop, and when they did, they came and took another one. I lost my whole unit, and most of my company. They went after another of my men sometime after … maybe three weeks. I took his place."

(There are tears in his eyes now, and his is visibly struggling to stay calm.)

"At first it was blood draws, and then the injections started. It burned like fire in my veins! I don't know how long after that it was that Steve… Captain Rogers… came for us. All I remember was repeating name, rank, serial until that was all I could do to stay conscious. Then Steve came."

(The man smiles, but it is sad and pained.)

"Everybody knows what happened next."

(There are chuckles off camera. The man off camera clears his throat before he speaks.)

"When did you notice something was wrong?"

(The man in the middle looks pensive and slightly confused before he answers.)

"I didn't really. Not at first. It started out as little things. My aim was better, my stamina improved. I started hearing things more clearly and from further away. I could run faster, and jump higher. I started noticing that I could understand things faster, and calculate complicated problems in my head. I didn't notice until it all just piled up, and before I knew it I was almost as strong as Steve, and I could keep pace with him in the field."

(The soldier, for it was finally seen that he was indeed wearing a uniform, looked embarrassed, when he looked to the man off camera.)

"Why didn't you say something to your superiors?"

(The soldier grimaced and winced.)

"Because I was scared; I heard what they wanted to do to Steve, and I wasn't about to go back to a lab, when I just escaped one. I didn't want to be experimented on anymore. I thought that the… differences… were useful, so I kept quiet. I didn't want to be shipped back home to a lab. I wanted to stay. I wanted to help."

(The soldier laughs.)

"Besides, who else was going to watch Steve's flank? He didn't do it himself, and I wasn't about to let him fend for himself; no matter how strong and damn near indestructible they made him!"

(The man off camera laughs with the soldier for a minute before he sobers and asks another question.)

"What happened after you fell, Bucky?"

(The soldier took a shuddering breath, and tries to calm his nerves.)

"Steven, found me. I hit my head, so I… I don't remember much; just flashes. The first real thing I can remember after falling was… cold and um… pain… in my side and my arm. I fell into a river and was half on shore when Steven found me. It all goes fuzzy after he pulled me out of the river, but um… I remember soldiers… dressed in… Russian uniforms. They had me on a litter. There was… blood … in the snow. My arm was gone… it just stopped above … my elbow. Everything after that is… just… flashes. Them putting on the first arm…"

(The soldier's gaze turned distant as he went silent.)

"Sergeant, how do you remember that; them putting on the arm?"

(The soldier's face twisted in pain and fear.)

"Because I was awake! They strapped me to an operating table, and… just… started working me! There were drugs, no anesthetics, nothing! I felt everything!"

(The soldier sobbed and began to shake, as if he was not mentally present in the room.)

"The bone saw, as they cut off the end of my arm; the knives as they pulled tissue away from bone: I felt all of it! I must have passed out after that, because when I woke up, it was on me. It looked just like this one, only it was much heavier." (He paused for a long moment, running a hand up and across his left side.) "The first time they made me use it, I broke all the ribs on my left side. They miscalculated the bone to weight strength ratio, so they had to replace the ribs and collar bone to reinforce that side. That meant more surgery. Steven knocked me out before they started, and kept me asleep until it was over. They made him heal me so they could start conditioning right away."

(The soldier went silent again. The man off camera asked a question.)

"Bucky, what did you mean by 'reinforce that side'?"

(The soldier looked up and smiled bitterly.)

"They replaced all the ribs on my left side, along with the collar bone and shoulder blade with metal versions to create stronger anchor points for the arm's covering and the weight. The first version was only robotic from just above the elbow down; the rest was metal sheathing and armor that they could take off to do maintenance on the attachment point. This was later replaced in '57 after a failed mission resulted in the arm's destruction and the rest of my arm being shattered beyond repair. The fully robotic arm was attached above the shoulder and used more anchor points; it was almost as heavy as the first, but in comparison, much lighter."

(The man off screen sighed, and huffed a teary breath before he asked another question.)

"Bucky, you said they conditioned you. Was this like training or…?"

(The soldier interrupted.)

"Torture; it was torture. Physical abuse, mental, but mostly they just put me in isolation until I broke down enough for them to start programming my mind. They had a telepath… named Nicola Zhukov. He got inside our heads, made us do things we didn't want to because they ordered us to. They combined his work with hypnotic suggestion and brainwashing. It seemed to work, but it never held long enough for it to be useful to them." (The soldier whimpered and started to quietly cry.) "Then they started using the wipes!" (He gasped.)

(The man off camera shifted and leaned into view.)

"The wipes; what are those, Sergeant?"

(He asked and the soldier seemed lost in memories of pain.)

"When I had no memories they could manipulate me, but after I healed from the fall my memories came back; slowly at first, but then more. That's when I realized who it was that had us. They made us strong, fixed my arm and expected that we would be like soft clay to mold. I fought back, killed four guards and a technician, before they stopped us." (He paused and then shook with some old fear, his eyes wide and full of terror.) "They had a chair. They put me in it, and all my memories went away."

(The man just in camera leaned forward and touched the soldier's knee to get his attention. The soldier jerked back and huddled into the sofa.)

"Bucky, how did the chair do this?"

(The Soldier slowly composed himself and calmed his rapid breathing before he spoke.)

"They put this… thing around my head and on my face, like headgear, and it… it sparked like electricity and when it latched around my face, I … everything was burned away. It took them a few tries to get the voltage right, and when they did, they started using Zhukov with the chair to put… words in my head, that… all they had to do was say them, and I went away; wiped clean, prefect blank slate. I did what they wanted, because I knew if I didn't, it meant I had to go back to the Chair." (He looked up at the man with eyes filled with fear and pain.) "That's a Wipe, sir. It means they scrub my mind clean, so I can't remember and I don't want to for fear of the Chair." (He looked back at his hands and the man on his left reached out and took the metal hand in his own.) "In 1950 they moved us to a facility in East Berlin. By then, they had been programming and conditioning us for five years. The combination of the Wipes and brainwashing made me into what was the beginning of the Winter Soldier. It wasn't perfect. I still had episodes where I remembered and lashed out, but for all intents and purposes I wasn't Bucky Barnes anymore. It was in Berlin that The Red Room came. They took over the project, and they wanted perfection. They wouldn't settle for second best."

(The soldier bowed his head and leaned into his counterpart on his left.)

"Second best; what do you mean?"

(The President asked.)

"My version of the serum wasn't complete. It wasn't like Steve's. As far as they were concerned, I was a fluke, and Steven was too. They brought the Serum. I don't know how they got it, but they had enough for a full dosage, like what we gave Steve, and a booster, to fix the problems of the unfinished Serum I had. They injected us with it; Steven got the full dose. I had booster. It worked, but it enhanced Steven's abilities. They deemed it too dangerous to synthesize more from that source and started to work on reformulating it. My own enhancements were boosted, my strength tripled, and my endurance was the same; the problem to them was that it also enhanced my healing to the same as Steve's had been. Wipes only lasted a few weeks before the programming would breakdown, and I began to remember. Reconditioning after those were ten times worse."

(The President pats the man's knee in sympathy, and asked another question.)

"Bucky, after they conditioned you and programmed you, what did they have you do?"

(The soldier shook with silent tears, and covered his face with his hands. He leaned forward and began to sob into them, hunched over his knees. After a moment he composed himself, but tears could still be seen running down his face.)

"It is okay, Ada." (The man on his left spoke up.) "Just tell them."

(The soldier visibly forced himself to calm and answered in tears.)

"Everything; but mostly I was their silent killer. I was an assassin, a spy, a trainer, an escort; I was anything they wanted me to be for the mission. But mostly I was an Assassin. I was a ghost story; a shooter that could make impossible shots, and disappears without being seen. I became the thing of nightmares to their enemies. If you became a liability, they sent me after you. To them I was only 'The Asset'. To the world, or at least to those that believed I was real, they called me the Winter Soldier. They sent me on the impossible jobs, missions, because if it could be done, I could do it; no matter how damaged I came back to them. I couldn't fail, because if I did, I was punished; we were punished. They sent me after anyone that was a threat to them: judges, lawyers, prime ministers, heads of state, doctors, scientists, journalists," (he paused and looked the President in the eyes.) "President's… and even some their own; whoever was a threat to their final goal. They sent me as a message: you can't hide from them, because the Winter Soldier will find you. I did this, against my will, for the last forty years."

(The president took a deep breath, and looked at him in disbelief. He sighed and looked suddenly much older before he asked another question.)

"Why did you stop now? What made you want to escape now; after all this time?"

(The soldier visibly crumpled and hunched in on himself. He began to cry while holding a hand to his belly.)

"Ada, it's okay; you can tell him." (The man on his left said.)

"James, just tell the truth."

(The man on his right finally spoke. His accent was German with a refined quality. He wrapped his arm around the man's shoulders and pulled him into his side. The soldier nodded and swallowed back more tears.)

"They found out…"

(He stopped and tried to compose himself again.)

"They found out what, Sergeant."

(The President asked. The soldier looked up again with shame in his eyes and self-loathing.)

"They found out that … I am a… hermaphrodite, sir. I was born one." (He stopped and fresh tears ran down his face. The Soldier wiped them away with his hand, and took a shuddery breath before continuing.) "They were going to scrub the project. They had been trying to find a suitable replacement for years, but had thus far been unable, until they found out. They got ahold… of… Steve… of Steve's sperm, and … um… impregnated me with it." (The soldier is openly crying now, but still held together enough to keep the sobs at bay.) "Steven overheard that they were going to … decommission the project, and terminate us; after the baby was born. I guess we both still had some self-preservation left, because he found Arion and told him what was happening and how to get to us." (The soldier chuckled and smiled proudly at the man on his left.) "Arion recruited Howard Stark and Peggy Carter to help get us out. Generals Joshua DuLake and Fëanor Noldorean also helped, along with my old team. With their help, we were able to make our escape."

(The President sat back and went out of camera. After a moment he asked another question.)

"Are you sure that no one followed you, or that they can find you?"

(The Soldier smiled, and laughed.)

"They don't even know I'm gone. As far as they know, I was still in Cryo-freeze, when the base blew. It'll take them months to dig through the wreckage; if they ever find out that the base is gone. By then, I will be long gone, and hopefully safely away from their reach."

(The president sat forwards, back in camera, again, his face confused and curious.)

"Cryo-freeze?"

(He asked. The soldier blinked and gasped in realization.)

"Between missions, they kept me in cryogenic hibernation. It was easier to deal with me then, because the reanimation process would leave me weak. They would take me directly to the Chair for a pre-mission Wipe and activation. When the mission was over, they Wiped me again and used my helpless state to lock me back in the tank, and freeze me again; until the next mission."

(The President ran a hand over his mouth in shock, and looked up at the soldier.)

"They did this after every mission?"

(The soldier nodded sadly.)

"Most of 'em."

(He said softly.)

"My God, what kind of animals were these people?"

(The soldier smiled at the rhetorical question.)

"Soldiers, Scientists, and politicians: I can give you their names; every last one. I'll give you the names of every person that hired my 'services' from them. I can give you the names of their allies and contacts in the US and in Western Europe. Every last sleeper agent, mole, spy, assassin, and plant down to the lowest of rank, to the highest; I can give it to you."

(The president looked conflicted, before he spoke.)

"I don't want to start a witch hunt."

"You won't be starting one."

(The man on the Soldier's left spoke up. The president looked up at the young man's hard face.)

"It would be a targeted strike! Every last one of those men and women are loyal to only one thing: their cause, HYDRA's Cause. Absolute control; that's what they want, and they'll do anything to get it! We're prime examples of the lengths they're willing to go to, t'get what they want!"

"Mr. President, we have been given inside data on a terrorist organization growing in our own government. We would be fools not to strike a killing blow with it while we have the chance; while we have the element of surprise."

(Director Carter advised, and the President sighed. He looked thoughtful, and then his face hardened to stone.)

"You're absolutely, Director Carter; and I won't be that fool. I'll do everything in my power to have these men and women prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Sergeant, Barnes?"

(The soldier pulled himself up to attention in his seat.)

"Yes, Sir?"

(The president smiled at his loyalty to protocol. The president stood and went to his desk out of screen.)

"You have risked your life to get me this information, and your freedom. After Captain Buchanan gives his testimony, I am going to recommend that you and your partner be placed in Special Witness Protection; until such a time that we can find all the heads of HYDRA and take them down. You will eventually have to make a sworn statement in court, and before a grand jury, but until then your identity and location will be kept a state's secret. This information will not leave this room, and these tapes will be placed into the care of my personal estate."

(The soldier sat with his mouth wide open in shock. The president finally came back into view with a hand written paper in hand.)

"This country has done you both a great disservice. As two of our most highly decorated heroes, it should have been a priority to recover the two of you, once there was the man power. The fact that you were both swept under the rug and left to rot and be tortured in a foreign enemy nation, it makes my blood boil. I can only hope that, in some small way, this will make up for what was done to you both."

(The president handed the soldier the paper. The soldier took the paper with shock and confusion. He looked at it and his eyes widen. He looked back up at the President with wide disbelieving eyes.)

"It's not official, but I'll have my secretary write a more official one up, but for all intents and purposes, that is a legal, binding document. You can keep that on you for a long as you like. I have a copy for Miss Drake to work from; gotta love carbon paper!"

(The soldier began to laugh and grinned, even with tears running down his face. He stood and wrapped the president in a hug, burying his face in the man's shoulder.)

"Thank you."

(He said so quietly that it was barely caught on audio.)


The days after Bucky confessed his crimes to Reagan, went by in a blur. After Steven determined that the agent in charge of their relocation wasn't HYDRA in any shape of form, and his superiors were clear as well, they went along the rout of finding them a permanent location. Bucky adamantly stated that he wanted to live in Brooklyn, and after a grueling two hours arguing his points, the agent caved and started showing them pictures of safe-houses approved by the Agency. Bucky and Steven vetoed the whole lot stating that he would not bring a child into rundown old roach-motels like the apartments the man suggested.

After that Bucky went about finding the place himself, and after scouring the ad listings for apartments, he found himself staring at the picture of a Brownstone house instead. Bucky didn't know what drew him to the picture, but the minute he saw it, he knew he had to tour it in person. Three more hours with a pushy realtor, Bucky was in love with it. It was old and needed to be brought up to code but the bones of the house were so strong and beautiful, that Bucky could see the potential. The fact that it needed a major renovation worked in his favor, because he could have the security and special phone lines installed without question.

Bucky held his son's arm and smiled at the house.

"What do you think, Stevie," he asked. Steven looked the house up and down from an assassin's point of view for a second then from an artistic perspective. He smiled and hummed.

"It's got potential. And if Stark works on it, it might be ready before the baby's born," Steven joked. Bucky laughed. "I like it. It's exactly what I thought home would look like." Bucky smiled and pulled his son into a one armed hug. Bucky placed his hand on his lower abdomen, with a contented smile. There wasn't much of a bump yet, but there was an obvious displacement of his washboard abs. Bucky wanted a house to walk over the threshold into with his husband, before he was too big to fit into his uniform.

The wedding was planned, and the venues were ready, all they needed was the dress from his sisters and the ring's from Fëanor.

"What do you think," the realtor asked with a sugary smile. Bucky grinned back.

"We'll take it!" he said and the realtor beamed at them. She moved to the table with the papers to get them ready for signing. "I think Nelyo's going to like it too."

"Nelyo," Steven asked. Bucky nodded.

"Yep," he answered, popping the p at the end. "Fëanor wants us to have extra protection. You're not going to be there always, and Arion has work in London; so Fëanor suggested that Nelyo and Huan come to stay with us, as company and protection." Steven looked skeptical but thought it over and smirked. Fëanor was still a tactical genius even if people didn't acknowledge it, and his plan was fool proof.

"They always manage to think of something," he said and Bucky grinned at him as he moved to the table, and signed the first page. He sighed as he signed the last document, realizing that he was at long last owning his own home.


TBC…

AN: so sorry this was so long. I started writing and then new scenes, I didn't even plan, popped out of nowhere. This was probably my longest chapter to date, and best if I am being honest. And I was right I did cry. Sorry, not sorry, if I made you cry too.

Also if any of my frequent readers are any good at drawing complicated multiple figure drawings, I would love it if I had a picture of that Memorial Statue of Steve I described. I would do it myself, but I have trouble with perspective and proportions on occasion. Some poses just vex me! Forward to friend artists if you have 'em.

Next chapter, Bucky goes home; Lots of crying there too. So much emotional crap! Why did I do this to myself? Oh, yeah, right, I like doing this stuff.