Disclaimer: I own nothing and this is my head-canon.

James Buchanan Barnes: A Winter Soldier Story

Chapter 20 - Revelation

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Listen to "Breathe Me" by Sia

James was cold down to his bones and he couldn't seem to get warm. He coughed again and again, shuddering under layers of blankets as Steve slid his chair closer to James' bed. Steve had insisted that a hot bath might help, but James had only shaken his head in silent protest. He wanted nothing to do with being submerged for a good long time.

He blinked slowly and when he turned his head to look at Steve, Sam was there instead, head lolling over his chest, drowsing in the chair beside James' nightstand. James looked long and hard at Sam's face, startled when he took a long, slow blink and the face morphed into Bruce's.

It seemed as though every time he shut his eyes, James was looking into a new face, though there only ever seemed to be one person at a time in his room—he realized, with no small amount of panic, that he was drifting through time.

Blinking again, a head of red hair and bright green eyes were looking down at him where he lay. Reaching a cold hand for Natasha, James muttered her name again, stilling when he saw someone standing behind her. His eyes weren't focusing—was it Ruger?

"You bastard," James' brow furrowed in anger and he gritted his teeth, calling on all of his strength to lunge at the man, but his weakened body betrayed him and he fell to the floor beside the bed, hands still grasping for Ruger.

"l'll kill you! I'll kill you, Ruger!" Saliva flew from James' mouth and he wrapped his fingers around the man's throat. Spots were appearing in his vision and his strength suddenly waned, causing him to buckle over and hit his head against the nightstand.

Ruger was hacking from the crush of his windpipe and Steve was helping the man to his feet—Steve! Get away from Ruger! What are you doing?— while Natasha pushed James forcefully back onto the bed. His vision suddenly cleared enough to understand that it wasn't Ruger who had been standing behind Natasha. It was Bruce.

As though trying to spare him from feeling guilty about strangling Bruce, James brain commanded him to stare at a fixed point on the wall: a dot, probably a piece of dust smudged against the taupe paint. Tony's Tower was immaculate, the cause of the mark being a mystery to James, and he spent the next few seconds trying to determine how it had gotten there. Or, it had felt like seconds…

"Bucky?" Steve. Steve was there. Steve was sitting on James' bed. "Bucky, snap out of it…"

"There's dirt on the wall," James throat felt like sandpaper. He pointed at the dot and Steve exhaled loudly, leaning away from the bed and scratching the discrepancy from the wall. Relief. James was relieved now that it wasn't there anymore. Everything was chaos, but at least the wall was clean again.

"Have you been staring at a piece of dirt for ten minutes?" Steve's tone sounded broken, sounded sad.

Don't be sad, Steve. The dirt's gone, everything's fine now.

"Bucky?" Steve sat down on the side of the bed again and laid a hand on James' shoulder, running his thumb along James' skin and sending a chill through his spine. Steve was hot. Scalding even. James was laid bare to the sensation because there was no more dot to stare at.

"I'm cold," James murmured, starting to tremble as goosebumps made their way up and down his flesh. And no wonder—the blankets had been kicked away and his torso was bare. He wanted to be warm again, wanted to feel the sun on his skin or the heat of another body, and he asked himself why he was cold. Because you were in cryo-sleep and they forgot to warm you up, a clinical voice hummed in his head.

Cryo-sleep… The gel invading the spaces of his body, the crackle of frost snapping at his skin, the fullness of the liquid inside of his lungs, creeping into every crevice… James' eyes roamed to Steve's sitting form, his breathing becoming difficult as he imagined his lungs being filled with the wet stuff.

Can't breathe. Steve's torso was bare, just like James, but there were random windings of light gauze around his chest and arms, skin covered in ridged scorch marks that were set with deep purple and dark brown.

Can't breathe. Steve's face and hands were covered in the rashes as well, but they looked to be healing fast.

"What happened to you?" James' eyes went wide. Still can't breathe. Do I even need to breathe? I seem to be doing fine without air.

"S'not important." Steve summoned a smile, but James knew it was only meant for his comfort.

Inhale. Gasp. Sputter. Black dots appearing in his vision again. "How'd I…?" James trailed off.

How did I get out of the tank? I was pulled out. That's not how it's supposed to work—they didn't follow procedure—he shouldn't have been taken out like that—was that why he couldn't think?

"You dropped into the tank, didn't you? You fished me out."

Steve nodded solemnly, jaw muscles working. James' train of thought switched gears again and he struggled to breathe, but with the dot gone from the wall, James' mind was occupied with organized bullet points:

Point one: He'd attacked Natasha when Ruger had used the trigger word.

Point two: Steve's body was burnt from jumping into the tank to save him.

Gasp. Heave. Cough.

Point three: Sam was sporting a forearm that was wrapped in gauze as well.

What was he trying to do again? Oh, that's right: breathe. Gasp.

Point Four: He'd mistaken Bruce for Ruger and nearly strangled him to death.

Black bubbles dancing in his vision again. Maybe he should count those instead of bullet points, but they kept flickering away. Choke. Sputter. Gasp.

Point… what number was he on? Tony… though Tony had already found a semblance of forgiveness, the guilt at killing Tony's father ate at James' innards.

Clint was the only one he hadn't wronged, but he knew how close the archer and Natasha were, so by harming her, he'd harmed Barton. Was there anyone else on the list he hadn't damaged?

An invisible hand pulled a lever in James' head and he couldn't remember where he was or what he'd been doing. "Don't let Zola take me again, Dougan! I can't do it again!" James' anguished plea didn't sound like his own voice.

"Dougan's dead," Steve murmured quietly, holding James' hands in both of his. James eyes widened and he felt as though they may roll out of his head if he opened his lids any wider.

"Cholera…" James sounded like a frightened child—he felt like one. "Zola's giving it to them, I don't know why—I don't know why it hasn't killed me, like it's killed them… but I'm too sick to keep this up for much longer…"

"Bucky, you're not behind enemy lines anymore," Steve brushed the hair away from James' face with his fingers, tucking locks behind his ears. "We rescued you, remember? We walked back to camp—you got better, remember? We went out for drinks, Peggy said she was gonna go dancing when the war was over. War's over, Buck. Do you remember where you are?"

But James seemed to be stuck in the past. "He made me sick, Steve. I thought I was gonna die. And then he'd put me back in the cell with Dougan and Gabe and… and Jim." He finally looked Steve in the eye, focusing on his friend's face. "Dougan took care of me, Steve. He and Gabe, they kept me going. Told me I'd see you again." The smallest flash of a smile passed over his face. "Dougan was right…"

Steve's touched expression said that this was new news to him, a story he'd never heard.

Why can't I focus? Why can't I keep track of my thoughts? Why do I keep switching? I want to see Natasha again. No! I can't, Hydra will make me hurt her again. I want to see her. I don't want to see her.

"Steve," He whimpered helplessly. "Is this… is it real, are you here?"

"I'm here, Bucky," Steve squeezed his hands hard, but James could only feel it in one hand. Was his left arm asleep? It must be, he couldn't feel anything. Wait… he didn't have a left arm. That's right. No more tattoo.

"Steve," James felt the tears roll down his cheek. "Am I losing my mind?"

"I don't know," Steve finally answered. Truth. James liked truth, even though it was hard to take sometimes. Truth was good. Truth was… I want to see Natasha.

James stopped talking after that, despite their many efforts to get him to speak. If a question couldn't be answered with a nod or a shake of the head, then they were out of luck.

Keep them away. But I need them. I'm dangerous. Go away. But, God help me, I need them. Help me. Go away. Go away. Help me. Go away.

Go away.

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Listen to "Landfill" by Daughter

Natasha was bitter. Her arms were crossed as she sat in the chair she'd dragged to the wall outside James' room, just beside the door. In the five days since he'd been rescued, she'd tried to come into the room, but always he would tell her to leave once he saw her— one time, he'd been so adamant that he'd shouted at her with his lungs' fullest capacity, bulging veins in his neck as he warned her back before collapsing.

What had she expected? That once James had been saved that everything would return back to normal? Happily ever after? She should know better than that. But it didn't make her resentment any easier to bear. Natasha only wanted to help…

"He's angry with himself for letting them order him to attack you," Sam explained, standing over her with his hands on his hips. "He doesn't want to do it again."

Natasha had nodded, but it still hurt. What was she supposed to do now? She knew she would wait, she knew she would sit outside his door until… well, until what?

"He's so quiet now." Natasha murmured absently, recalling the first time James had left the room: He had floated like a ghost, wandering aimlessly through the tower and staring out the large windows at the skyline below. Every one of the tower's inhabitants would attempt to comfort him, but he wouldn't acknowledge them.

"I don't know how to break through to him." Her face softening from a frown. "James doesn't scream at night the way he used to and I guess I should be grateful for that, but the quiet bothers me so much more." She wasn't sure why she was talking to Sam about this, but it probably had to do with how approachable the charismatic man made himself.

"I tried to sneak in a few nights ago," She admitted, ducking her head. "Thought he wouldn't notice. Thought he might actually be grateful and… I dunno, snap out of it, I guess. But he just opened his eyes… he got up and left. Found somewhere else to sleep."

"You've got a beating heart like the rest of us, Natasha," Sam said as he knelt on the floor in front of her chair, laying a hand on her knee. "Even if you pretend it's colder than any of ours. James is already trying to deal with this alone, don't you make that mistake—we're here if you need us."

"I've been through worse—" She started to say, but Sam cut her off with a frustrated laugh.

"And that makes this any less painful now?" He raised an eyebrow at her, rising to his feet again and shaking his head. "Is that what they taught you in Russia? Deal with it all by yourself? Well, you're not taking orders from them anymore are you? So, why would you cope the same way they instructed you to? That doesn't make any sense, Natasha." Sam crossed his arms and looked down at her.

She hadn't expected his words to strike her so hard, but he was right. Her heartbeat fluttered and for the first time since they'd returned from the sewer, she acknowledged the full weight of her emotions—what was she feeling? Betrayed and useless. Betrayal because James wouldn't let her anywhere near him, wouldn't let her into the room or into his head.

"Honestly," Sam was still talking with his hands on his hips, standing above her, "I think you need—"

The heaviness in her chest constricted her breathing and she sprang to her feet, sliding her hands around Sam's waist and burying her face in his chest.

"Uh," He was taken aback by her embrace. "A hug. That works, too." He lowered his arms to wind around her, laying his cheek on her head. She just stood and breathed, allowing the closeness of another person to help process these unruly emotions boiling inside of her. And then she felt something else behind her.

"Natasha sandwich," Sam laughed, vibrating her cheek against his chest. Steve was holding the both of them from behind her. Okay, so the hugging thing had been helping, but this was a bit much…

And then another person enveloped them all in his enormous hold. When had he come back? This was getting ridiculous.

"Ah, my friends," Thor's loud voice boomed over Natasha's head. "All will be well. No need for such defeated embraces after such a victory."

"I'm feeling snubbed. I didn't get a ticket to snuggle-con 2013." Tony said from somewhere beyond the heap of flesh that was Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Thor.

"S'okay, I didn't either," Banner laughed, and Natasha could practically hear him holding a hand over his mouth.

Natasha said something, but her head was still pressed to Sam's chest because of the many arms surrounding them, and no one heard her. Her cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

"Um?" Barton's voice came from somewhere beyond the huddle. "I'm looking for Tasha?"

"She's the gooey center of that lollipop in the hallway." Tony laughed. "Get licking, Barton."

"I…" Steve was struggling to move away from her, but didn't make it very far. "Er, I can't move until Thor lets me go…"

"My apologies," The thunderous man released them, stepping away with a huge grin.

Natasha took in a full breath as the many arms withdrew and, disgruntled, stepped away from Sam. "That is why I have a hard time with affection."

"I've got no regrets," Sam was grinning from ear to ear, nudging her shoulder. "The Black widow, ex-KGB assassin, and deadly member of the Avengers just hugged me. That's almost as awesome as being best friends with Captain America."

"What brings you to Tony's tower of terrors?" Clint smirked at the Asgardian behind Natasha.

"I am here to intervene on James' behalf," Thor announced. "Sir Stark has made me aware of the situation with your brother, my friend," He clasped a large hand on Steve's shoulder, "I know what must be done. If you will heed my counsel and grant me permission to act, I can assure you James shall fight alongside you once more."

Natasha's brows rose. Stark? Of all people… but then she was distracted by the silent, but powerful exchange between Thor and Steve. They seemed to be speaking without words, eyes heavy with understanding, sympathy, and remorse.

I, too, know what it is like to lose a brother. Thor's expression looked to say. Roger's head bowed and then he looked toward James' room. "I don't… he won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone, not even Natasha."

Thor's face lit up with understanding and his eyes strayed to Natasha's, as if to communicate that he understood there was something between her and James. Or there had been, which is what Natasha's bearing must have told him because he cocked a brow at her.

"Uh, Steve," Sam waved a hand at the demi-god in a red cape. "I don't think this is such a good idea—has Bucky even met—"

"It's fine, Sam." Steve nodded, opening the door to James' room and allowing the tall Asgardian to pass through.

"It gladdens me to know I have your trust in this, Captain," Thor literally ducked under the doorway so as not to hit his head and then turned around to face them all in the hallway. "But I fear I must ask for more: Whatever you hear from within this room, please disregard it. I cannot command you, but I entreat you, do not interfere.."

A flurry of concerns popped into Natasha's head—and apparently a few others' heads as well—but Steve only nodded and turned to look at them all, as though he was pleading for them all to agree.

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Listen to "Bloodstream" by Ed Sheeran

Natasha wasn't sure what to make of "whatever you hear, please disregard it," but after an hour of nothing but silence beyond the closed door, there was a distinct sound of something crashing and something else being crushed. It took every ounce of Natasha's self-control not to jump up and dash into the room, and when James' frantic shouting came next, she almost caved—but Steve's hand on her arm stopped her.

She glared into his face, silently condemning him with words she would never say: You were late once already, don't you dare be late to save him a second time! Natasha was convinced by now that it was pointless to refute her protective nature regarding James—he was alternately strong and vulnerable, stoic and emotional, quiet and loud, but no matter his mood or the reasons behind it, she felt she could weather whatever mood or mind James was under.

James hollered loudly and an object crashed against the other side of the wall closest to Steve, causing him to flinch and grip Natasha's arm that much harder. Thor's immense baritone finally answered, a gentle and kind tone filling the air and landing soothingly on all ears that heard it. James was arguing with him over something and Natasha heard the rollings of thunder overhead.

A crack of lightning sounded and still Steve held her back from reaching for the door. "Give him some time," Steve said in a controlled voice, probably saying it to himself as much as her.

"Let me go," Natasha warned, determined to storm in and demand that Thor leave James alone, but another clap of thunder silenced her, a shriek of terror accompanying it.

And then silence.

Natasha was panting with the effort it took not to act on the adrenaline running through her veins and clenched her eyes shut, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. She heard nothing else from the room and it unnerved her, causing her hands to shake.

"Steve?" Once she opened her eyes, she couldn't take them off of the door and even though Rogers' hand was no longer on her arm, she couldn't find the will to move toward it without his consent. "Steve?"

Rogers looked just as unsettled as her and nodded, causing her to dart forward and throw the door open. The room was trashed, the bed having been flung over on its side and the glass from the windows littering the floor. Cloth from the sheets were scattered about and a large black circle adorned the floor, strange symbols and insignias adorning it. Thor and James were gone.

"Did Thor...?" Natasha stepped in, glass crunching beneath her boots, but she was certain she knew the answer. "They're gone, Steve."

Sam rounded the corner instantly, hand on the doorway as he leaned into the room. "Holy sh—"

"He took him?" Steve looked around helplessly, standing above the black scorched circle on the floor. "He took him to Asgard?" he whirled to face Sam. "Why? Why would he do that?"

Sam shook his head, clearly just as mystified, when Tony appeared behind him and rolled his eyes. "Look at this—it's like If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, but with ninjas—tell me the rest of the rooms are okay—"

"Shut up, Tony." Natasha snarled, stomping out of the room.

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rev`e`la`tion: the divine or supernatural disclosure to humans of something relating to human existence or the world.

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Thank you for your patience! I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this chapter, but it was difficult to format it just the right way :P

I keep playing that post credit scene from Ant Man over and over again in my head and I can't believe I have to wait another year to figure out what in the world is going on! UGH! Until then, fan fic, it is!

Next Chapter on Monday night—I really want to get the next chapter to flow as perfectly as I see it in my head.

Responses to reviews for Chapter 19:

TardisAJB—Thank you for bearing with me—happy stuff is coming!

Cairistiona7—you flatter me! Have safe travels :) And I hope I'm still on the right track, but you be sure to let me know if you've got a prompt for the story ;)

Mmelody6—and a flurry of smiles to you, too! :D

Qweb—breathe! I think there's a part of Sam that sees the differences between the Captain America image the media wants everyone to see and the flawed, imperfect character Steve truly is. I've always loved Sam for this, for being able to see Steve on his best and worst days, and for still being his friend despite it.

Steve r0gers—thank you so much! It was hard to write, having dealt with that kind of terror before and trying to bring it into text without freaking out!

Isabelele—thank you thank you thank you!

"guest"—I'm glad you love it—more to come!

Mmelody6—you're very welcome (in reference to the post-credit description)

A big thank you to all followers and favoriters of this story!