So, this is just a tad late, to say the least. I apologise; it was basically due to a very large amount of real life stuff pushing me off track, and some trouble getting back on it!

This chapter, at least, is relatively lengthy. That may or may not be a good thing :-).

Chapter Twelve

The cell was a simple room divided by a transparent panel through the middle that looked like ordinary glass but was probably some kind of ultra-special futuristic reinforced type. On one side was a station of monitors and tablets, with a desk and several office chairs and one door. There was probably a door on the other side too, but it fit so seamlessly into the wall it was impossible to tell where it was. The only furniture on that side was a sink, a lavatory, and a bed, all bolted to the floor.

In the adjoining room there was another monitor, one that showed a constant view of both halves of the cell, and before he entered Bucky stood for a few minutes, watching it.

The Winter Soldier was awake. Someone had removed the body armour and dressed him in a loose top and running pants, which made him look somehow smaller, despite the heavily muscled physique and metal arm. Bucky had been worried that he'd still be irrational, vicious, angry, but there was no fight left in the figure who sat on the bed, looking dazed, as Steve talked to him softly from the other side of the glass. He sat with his hands digging into his thighs, his gaze focusing on Steve and then tuning out to stare at the wall next to him before focusing back with a startle. When Bucky could see any expression at all, it vacillated between hopeless resignation and potent terror. Which didn't mean that the anger wasn't there, he supposed. Just that he couldn't summon the will to bring it to the fore.

It was hard to hear exactly what Steve was saying; it was low and gentle and full of reassurances about blame and encouragements about the future. Like he was talking to a frightened animal, really, but Bucky felt no resentment for that. It was pretty clear that Steve knew what was needed, and indeed, he could see his future self slowly, fractionally, relaxing his stance as Steve continued to talk.

He tensed up again when Bucky entered Steve's side of the room and turned to face him, but that wasn't exactly surprising. Bucky took a deep breath. "Hey," he said in greeting.

The Winter Soldier's eyes were wide, and they skittered anxiously over to Steve, who looked encouraging.

"Hello?" His voice was low and hesitant when he replied, as if he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to do so, and god, didn't that just bring up all sorts of unpleasant implications?

Bucky swallowed and managed a tight smile. "I…don't exactly know what to call you, sorry. Future-Bucky? Present-Bucky? Me?"

The Soldier frowned apprehensively. "They called me the asset."

Bucky heard Steve's breath hitch and he tried not to grimace. "Okay, I don't think that's—"

"Your name is Bucky," said Steve, firmly. "If it gets confusing we can just clarify things. It's not like it would be the first time someone had to deal with talking to two people with the same name."

Bucky gave a faint snort. "Probably the first time they were the same person, though," he said. When Steve looked up at him, as if worried that he'd overstepped, Bucky smiled briefly, reassuringly. "It's okay. It's only right. Look, Steve, I want to… can I speak to him? Alone? Just for a little bit."

He'd been worried that Steve would be offended, but there was only support and understanding in his eyes. "It's probably better that the cameras stay on," he said. "But JARVIS can monitor them without anyone else needing to see. I'll get some food." He turned back to the Soldier. "You must be hungry. You always liked pumpkin soup; will that do?"

His future self looked uncomfortable. "I…think?"

"Then I'll get that. If you tell JARVIS when you're done?" He looked at Bucky.

He smiled weakly. "That's fine. I…thanks." Steve nodded and exited, leaving him alone with a glass wall and his future. There was promptly a silence that escaped being as awkward as the ones in the panic room only because there wasn't rope and weapons involved.

This time, surprisingly, it was the Winter Soldier who broke it. "You're angry at me." He said it as a statement, not a question.

Bucky furrowed his brow. "No."

The Soldier's face creased into an expression of disbelief.

"I'm not." Bucky sighed and grabbed one of the chairs, sitting down so that he could look himself in the eyes. "What's the point? Why would I be angry? Because you gave into them after god knows how many years of torture? It's not like I can say that I wouldn't do the same, because guess what? I did. Or I will, or however the hell else you say it. Now, if you want to ask you whether I was angry at Hydra…"

"I tried to kill you."

"No." Bucky gave him a bleak smile. "You tried to kill you. I was a means to an ends. I hope that now that I'm out of reach you won't try a more direct approach, though."

The Soldier frowned. "No. There wouldn't be any…I had to make it better. I could still help to—"

Bucky let out a breath. "Okay. We can work with that."

The Winter Soldier stared at him. "I didn't stop. When I knew it wouldn't work. I knew it would hurt the world… I didn't stop."

"So it appears that seventy years of torment and brainwashing can make you a tiny bit irrational." Bucky gave a bark of laughter that didn't quite succeed in being casual. "I guess I've got that to look forward to."

The Soldier narrowed his eyes. "They…Steve's scientists said they were looking for a way to stop that."

Bucky shrugged. "They are. They're looking for the needle of hope in the haystack of possibilities. But who knows? We might get lucky in the next few hours."

The Soldier closed his eyes briefly, and Bucky knew that he didn't have to explain further. When his future self opened them again, the deep and terrible resignation was back. But all he did was give a small nod and say, "Okay."

Bucky took a deep breath. "When I asked you what you remembered," he said. "You mentioned a piano in a bar, and singing."

The Winter Soldier looked a little confused. "Yes," he said. When Bucky just waited, he opened his mouth again hesitantly. "There were men around a table. They were singing. In…English and French? And you… I…" He stopped. "We didn't join in, at first, but later? After the…there was a lady?"

"Peggy. She was in red?"

"Yes." The Soldier looked at him questioningly.

"That was Peggy Carter. She was Steve's girl, or at least I guess she would have been if…" He sighed. "She was real sweet on him. And he barely knew what to do about it but he was sweet on her too." Bucky felt his lips curl into a fond smile. "That was the day Steve put together the Commandos. It was the first down time we had after… after Steve rescued us all from Schmidt's camp. I was still trying to get my head together, or my head around all the changes. I mean," he raised his eyebrows at the Soldier. "You've seen pictures of him before the serum, even if you don't remember at all—"

"I… I do. Some," he replied.

"Right," Bucky grinned ruefully. "He was the skinniest thing you'd ever see, and suddenly he was this… six-foot Adonis who could take down a platoon of soldiers with one arm tied behind his back. I didn't know what to think – I was wondering whether it was all some kind of hallucination at first. Anyway, he came in and talked to me, wanted to make sure I was in on his insane idea to track down Hydra's forces, and after Peggy came to talk to him, and he blushed like a high schooler with a crush, we just sat and chatted at the bar. Like we were back in Brooklyn, and that was when I really knew it was him. He'd changed so much, and he hadn't changed at all. Then later he pulled me over to the others, who were singing this awful song about…"

"What." The Soldier stopped. Blinked. He was craning forward ever so slightly. "What did you talk…"

"Talk about?" Bucky frowned in thought. "Anything and everything, really. Steve gave me some stories from the films he was in." He gathered momentum as it came back to him. "Like- this one time, he and his 'battling allies' were supposed to be walking in front of this fake background, and they were using a treadmill so the walking looked real. Except Steve hadn't really walked on a treadmill much and he got out of step. The next thing you know, he tripped and this poor guy behind him was bowled over by six foot of solid muscle. The thing was, the camera was rolling and film was expensive, and they all knew that, so all the other actors kinda froze, trying to figure out how to save the scene, and then one guy turns to the camera, all gung-ho, and says—"

"'Captain! You found the spy in our midst!'" said the Soldier. Then he snapped his mouth shut, looking startled.

Bucky stared at him, and then slowly grinned. "Yeah," he said. "That's what he said."

The Soldier looked back, expression torn in a thousand different directions. "I remembered…just that line. Not the rest but that story, I…" He bit his lip, and then leaned forward, fingers grazing the glass barrier that divided them and his expression coalesced into something that was almost…hungry. "What…what happened next?"

"After we chatted? Then we went around to the other Commandoes." Bucky watched himself carefully, and then pulled the chair closer. "Let me… let me tell you all about them."

When Bucky walked into the kitchen a while later, Steve was concentrating on pulverising vegetables in a rectangular plastic device that was making a god-awful noise. He jumped when Bucky walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder, and then quickly reached out and turned the machine off.

Bucky grimaced. "That thing sounds like you were murdering a cat."

Steve looked slightly embarrassed. "I was gonna just heat up a tin of soup, but I didn't know how long you were going to be, and these blenders can do anything in no time flat – I figured I'd cook up the vegetables and make the soup fresh."

"That's where all the technological research went? Blenders? I think the flying cars would have been a better investment."

Steve smiled slightly. "They are really powerful blenders. There's a show on the internet where the salesman blends up everything from ice to phones."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Why would anyone want to blend a phone?"

"I don't think he thought that people really would, so much as he thought it might be something that people would watch. Seemed like a waste, though," he added.

"You're telling me."

"Being less wasteful is one thing we had over folks nowadays, I think," said Steve. He looked back at the blender. "It's pretty much ready now. I guess I'll go serve it out?"

"No," said Bucky, and when Steve looked confused he hurriedly continued, "I mean yes! Obviously don't throw the food out; I just wanted to talk."

"Should we leave him – you - alone? I don't know whether—"

"He's okay," said Bucky. "JARVIS is looking after him and we need to…. Steve." He paused, suddenly unable to go.

Steve gazed at him, a tense expression started to spread over his face. "Bucky."

He swallowed, and looked at his friend determinedly. "Steve, I think we need to look at the reality of the situation here."

Steve's jaw clenched. "The reality of the situation is that I have two experts who are working on this—"

"Two experts who have been working on this since the moment I got here, and who are no closer to finding a solution. Meanwhile—"

"That's not—"

"Meanwhile, these…cracks in the bubble that's keeping me here are happening more and more! I saw one of them while I was talking to him. Two when I was coming back to talk to you! You don't know, no one knows, whether these are dangerous or not, and you don't know whether it'll do the world damage if you wait until the whole bubble collapses. You can't afford to find out, Steve. You can't afford to take that risk, and you don't know how to change the world to safely take the Winter Soldier out."

"Bucky, we are not— Tony and Bruce are looking for a solution!"

"They won't find one, Steve! They'll keep trying, because they want more than anything not to let you down, but there just isn't any practical way—"

"Then we'll find an impractical way!" Steve's eyes were blazing, and god, when he saw him like this, with that determined, set look on his face, all he could see was the skinny, stubborn little punk who never backed down from a fight. He wondered whether he'd still see that, when he was the Soldier. Was that one of the things he'd remember, a sudden flash of those eyes that stood out amongst the sifting fragments of memory?

"There is no way, Steve. I need to go back now. We need to let history take its proper path. I know how it's supposed to go. I read—"

"That is not its proper path! I refuse to believe that we need to let this happen to you. You know what they… Bucky, no." And now the expression in those eyes was changing, from determination to a heartbreaking devastation that Bucky had never wanted to see.

He looked, anyway. He needed to do this, needed to make Steve understand. "Steve." He stepped forward, clasped his shoulder. Like he used to do when they were kids, to comfort his best friend and to calm him down. He felt calm; disconnected, in contrast to Steve's obvious despair. This was Bucky's job, after all. Still looking after Steve, even in the next century.

"We can still fix this," said Steve, softer, now, but no less upset.

Bucky squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "History needs the Winter Soldier. God knows, that's screwed up, but it turns out that history doesn't really care." When Steve went to open his mouth again, Bucky added, "And don't try to say anything about letting someone else take my place. You wouldn't do that, Steve. You couldn't. You couldn't give yourself over to them to save me either, so stop even considering it. You think I did damage under their thumb? God only knows what they could do with you."

Steve shut his mouth with a snap. Then he said, miserably, "If we could just fix—"

"You keep using that word, Steve. 'Fix.' Thing is though, that's not what you're trying to do. You fix something that's wrecked, but really, you want this to never be broken at all. You're trying to unbreak the situation and Steve, you can't. It's already broken." He tried to smile, tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the tears in Steve's. "You're standing here talking to me, but you're really just talking to a ghost. If you want, if you really want to fix the situation, you need to go help me. You know where I am."

"I know that he's…." Steve's voice was lost, despairing. "But the thought of my best friend having to go through all of that, when there's something I could have done—"

"Steve, stop. No." Bucky shook his head, exasperated. "You can't change things right now, and there was no way you could have changed things before, either. You played your part in history! You did everything you could. You took down Schmidt, like you said you would, and there's no way you could have known what would happen after that. You have nothing to feel guilty about!"

"What about what I did recently? I lied to you about all of this. If I'd just told, maybe it wouldn't have been so—"

Bucky sighed and pulled Steve closer, curled his arm around his back. "You know, I was actually mad about that to start with. Then I thought about it, and I realised that firstly, you were just trying to protect me, and secondly, I was being hypocritical, because if I were in your place I would probably do that exact same thing. I'd try to protect you, 'cause Steve, that's what I've always tried to do."

Steve's smile was watery, "Yeah. You always have."

Bucky smiled back sadly. "So here's the thing now." He looked steadily into the eyes of the man that he'd followed into death and back. "Now? It's your turn to protect me. I want you to promise me—" He swallowed painfully. "I want you to promise you will never give up on me. I want you to promise that you'll be my friend when I need one the most. That you'll tell me all about all the things I need to know. That you'll bring me back."

"You know I will, Buck." Steve looked back at him, and though tears spilled down his face, his expression was determined. "I promise."

"I might…I might not be the same person anymore. I've forgotten so much. But Steve? Underneath it all, you know there'll be one thing that I could never forget."

Steve enfolded him in his arms, and Bucky went gratefully, hugging him tightly, eyes closed as he tried to fight back a sob. When they finally broke apart and stepped back, Bucky looked at his best friend and forced himself to smile. "Now go back to him," he said, and Steve laid a final hand on his cheek, and left.

Bruce was talking to Tony when he walked back to him. Tony had clearly been arguing; he was flushed and looked nowhere near like the casual, cocky man that Bucky had first met. When he turned around and saw Bucky's face, his expression dropped into pinched mask of unhappiness, and he stormed out the door before Bucky could say a thing.

Bruce winced and looked at Bucky apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. Tony…Tony doesn't take these kinds of things well."

Bucky looked back at the door. "Not having things go the way he wants?"

"He sees it as a failure, and of course, any failure in his presence must be a failure of himself."

"Not that much different than Steve, then," said Bucky. It made sense. Steve always did attract the self-sacrificing types. "He's still going to help, though?"

Bruce nodded. "He's going to check the gem. I can do a last check through the calculations from here. I've called Thor, too, like you asked."

"Right," Bucky smiled tightly.

Bruce's expression was full of sympathy. "It shouldn't take long. If there's anything else you want to do…."

"No," said Bucky. Then: "Or…maybe. I…"

"Yes?"

Bucky took a deep breath. "What does it…what does it feel like? I mean…to not be yourself. To not be in control."

Bruce hesitated, mild surprise in his eyes. "It's—" He stopped; seemed to think about it for a second. "It's like…being in the ocean. Miles from anywhere. Sometimes you've got your head above the water and you can see what's happening, just in fits and spurts. And then you get pulled down again, into the darkness."

"Sometimes you struggle—" said a soft voice, and Bucky started and turned.

Clint was at the doorway, Bucky's original clothes over one arm and a crutch in the other. He looked…haunted, and Bucky knew without asking that something had happened to him too. Something that made him all too empathetic.

Bruce looked over at Clint knowingly, "But sometimes it's almost peaceful. Detached from all of your everyday problems."

Clint nodded regretfully. "Until you're pulled out, back on dry land, and then… all you can do is count the damage."

Bucky watched them both morosely. "I..."

"Yeah." Clint smiled at him tightly.

Then Bruce added softly, "But remember," he said, "where you are now."

"With you guys?" Bucky said.

"With friends," said Bruce.

Clint nodded and added, "We'll have to do a rematch on the shooting range one day, after all. Not that the result's in any doubt..."

This time Bucky managed a small grin. "You might have some competition this time around."

"Looking forward to it." Clint nodded and passed the bundle of clothes to him. "Be seeing you," he added, almost casually, but the expression in his eyes was anything but. Bucky nodded back and then...

Then Tony walked in and said, "Okay, it's set," and the moment was disturbed. They broke eye contact, and went to work.

A few minutes later, Bucky sat numbly on the floor, doing up his jacket and trying to remember whether the top button had been fastened when he arrived. Bruce and Tony had said that it was better that he didn't have anything around him when they sent him back, so they left him sitting cross-legged in an empty room while they organised moving the time gem. At least it was carpeted, he thought, semi-hysterically. He wouldn't want to be uncomfortable before they sent him back to be mutilated and tortured, after all. God knows he should eke out every small crumb of comfort he could get before—

"Sergeant Barnes! You asked for me?" Thor swept through the door and into the room, looking confused, and Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up at the broad-shouldered alien, momentarily nonplussed, and Thor, to his credit, modulated his vocal tone to be less bombastic. "I apologise. I have heard of the decision that you have made, but I'm not sure how I can assist."

"I wanted…I wanted to ask. If you could—" Bucky stopped, barely suppressing a strangled sob. Thor stilled, concerned. "Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky stared up at him. "I can't," he whispered.

Thor waited patiently for him to talk.

"I can't do this." Bucky closed his eyes. It made it easier to say. "I can't…I can't go back knowing what's going to happen to me and trust myself to just let it! I've been trying to keep a brave face for Steve and for everyone. I don't want them to feel even worse about this but god, do you what they're going to do to me? How little will be left of everything I worked for, everything I am?" He opened his eyes up, staring desperately up. "I'm a coward. I know I'm a coward. Steve would be able to do this without even— " He stopped abruptly. Swallowed. "You said you had a way to…to take memories away. To make it so that when I go back, I won't know—"

"Sergeant Barnes. Be calm." Thor's voice rung with authority, and suddenly Bucky knew why people had once called him a god. When he continued, his voice was softer, almost gentle. "A coward," he said, "would never make a decision such as this."

Bucky stared at him, wordless.

"There is no shame in fear. Even the greatest of warriors fears, and the trials you freely submit yourself to would test even those of Asgard. And yet, you are willing to do this, for the good of your world. I respect your sacrifice, and it will be remembered." He gazed down at Bucky, solemn and unjudging. "I have the means to clear your mind in my possessions. I will fetch it, and return soon."

Bucky watched him mutely as he walked away, still unable to speak but endlessly grateful. Then he closed his eyes again, and sat listening to the noise around him. The hum of the building's "climate control", as they'd called it, the murmur of conversation as Tony and Bruce brought the gem in and set it up, the muted tapping of fingers on those odd, futuristic tablets. An amazing place, the future was. He would be around to see it all, and maybe, if he was lucky, there would be enough left of himself to appreciate it. He hoped. So very much, he hoped.

When the background murmurs stopped, he finally opened his eyes again. Thor had stepped through the doorway, and Bruce and Tony stood off to the side, silent and gloomy. Tony fiddled with a tablet, refusing to meet his eyes, but Bruce. Bruce watched him, and nodded reassuringly. Bucky nodded back, managing the faintest smile of appreciation, and then Thor stepped forward.

He wore a pair of fine, gold-embroidered gloves, and he held in his hand…. It looked like a rock. It was smooth and grey, with a simple symbol scratched on one side. Thor knelt directly before him and reached an enormous arm around to support the back of his head. Then he pressed the stone into Bucky's own hand and it…

The world turned hazy, the walls melting away like butter. For a second, just a second, he felt a sharp spike of panic and then... Then he breathed deeply, and let himself sink beneath the waves.

Bucky yelped as a sharp pain jabbed into his ribs and snapped upright, blinking rapidly. "Oww."

Jim Morita, fellow Howling Commando and comrade in arms, smirked at him. "Sorry I disturbed your rest, but I'm supposed to be taking over on guard duty. Don't know whether I'm going to be able to do as good a job though; you're setting a high standard."

Bucky gave him a look, and then glanced around while rubbing his side. He was propped against the wall of the hut they were using a base, neck cricked and covered with a dust of snow. Jesus Christ, had he fallen asleep? Outside? On guard duty? Okay, that was just embarrassing. "I, uh…" He fished, trying desperately to come up with an acceptable explanation.

Morita cocked his head and looked at him speculatively. "You okay, Bucky? I thought for sure you'd broken something when you got knocked out of your sniper nest last night but you said you were okay. If you banged yourself on the head..."

Bucky groaned and shook his head. "I'm okay, I swear. Just behind on sleep, and there really wasn't anything happening out here."

"Cap would be able to…"

"Don't tell Steve!" When Morita raised an eyebrow he made a face. "I swear I'm fine; just had an off night." He shook his head again, trying to shake out the odd, unsettling feeling behind his eyes, and then shivered as the cold abruptly caught up to him.

Morita frowned thoughtfully. "Well, try not to make me regret not making an issue of it."

"I will! Honest! I'm real sorry." He shivered again. "Is it just me, or have the nights suddenly gotten a lot more chilly the last week or so?"

Morita sighed and shrugged, apparently deciding that the matter was settled. "It's getting more uncomfortable, for sure," he said. And Morita was smiling at Bucky as he helped him up, so Bucky couldn't explain the sudden shudder that went down his spine when he added, "But, you know how it is. Winter's here."

Sorry again for the delay, and thank you so much for all of your encouraging feedback. Any comments, observations or quibbles on this chapter are appreciated!

Again, thanks to my beta, Airawyn, for making this much more polished :-).