BigBangVIP: I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. It was a lot of fun to write an action scene. This one doesn't have any action but I hope you like it anyway.
UrFan: She will definitely be happy to see Steve again even if it happens before or after New York *winky face*
A/N: The last part of this chapter was loosely inspired by a story and comic called Rescue on devianart. I can't remember the name of the creator, but I give all props to that person for the train station scene. Everything else but the name and location is my own.
Chapter 27: The Alternate 2008
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a small room. The wallpaper was a dull green with grey stripes running down the length of the wall. The floorboards looked stained, as did the flat ceiling. A fan was making lazy circles above his head. He was laying on a squeaky mattress. It was uncomfortable, but nothing he wasn't used too. There was a worn table next to the off-white door which led to the unknown. Next to him, an old Philco Cathedral radio was playing a soft melody. The woman's song sounded familiar, but the Winter Soldier could not place it, his head felt too full of thick wool. In fact, he couldn't remember anything. How did he get here? Why was he here?
The sound of a door squeaking open caught his attention. Another off-white door had been pushed open to reveal a bathroom. But that was not what confused the soldier. The figure of woman was leaning against the doorframe. He couldn't see her face in the dimly lit room.
"Wake up, Sweetheart," she said softly. The soldier frowned. The woman pushed herself off of the doorframe and took a few steps closer to the bed. He could see her now. She was wearing a dark green velvet dress with black heels. Her hair was curled down with one big swooped curl against the right side of her forehead. Her lips were painted dark red against her pale skin. Even the black pearls laced along her collarbone stood out tremendously. Something deep down inside him stirred. Something that told him he knew her.
"Sweet – heart," he tested the words, trying to recall the name.
"Wake up, Sweetheart," she said a little firmer this time. "You need to wake up, Bucky." The woman's wrist flicked something at the soldier's chest. With his metal hand, he caught the item midair. Carefully, he turned his wrist and opened his hand. A pair of worn dogtags sat coolly in his palm.
Barnes, James B.
Sergeant 32557
107th Infantry
The soldier blinked. Suddenly, the woman was right in front of his face. Her nose was almost touching his. He could feel her warm breath on his face and it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. He tensed up as she leaned in, touching her nose to his. Her green eyes closed and the soldier felt himself wishing she'd open them again. She hummed and lightly rubbed her nose against his in an Eskimo Kiss.
"I love you Bucky Barnes," she whispered. Then, very lightly, almost as if it never happened, the mysterious woman placed a soft kiss against the soldier's lips.
The Winter Soldier jolted awake. These odd – flashes were happening more and more the longer he was kept awake. They were terribly unpleasant. In most of them, he was strapped down; a small man in a lab coat standing over him with some sort of strange headgear. But this one, this one was the best yet. He dug his palms into his temples. He knew he knew that woman. Everything about her screamed familiar. Even the scent of her perfume hung in his nostrils. That name…Sweetheart. The Winter Soldier growled and threw the thin blanket off of his lower body. He walked heavily to the bathroom mirror and stared at himself. The soldier never cared about his appearance. There was no need. But looking at himself now, he didn't look right. The soldier lightly ran his fleshy fingers over the growing facial hair. That shouldn't be there. Next, he twisted the ends of his shoulder-length hair. That's wrong too. He grew more and more agitated as he stared at himself.
With a loud grunt, he bashed his metal fist into the mirror, shattering it. The cracks distorted his reflection. This was how he felt; the distorted image of someone else. With a shake of his head, the soldier turned away. He had an assignment to prepare for. The lingering scent of lavender would not distract him from his mission.
You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.
I felt warmth seep into my body. I felt comfortable like I was waking from a nice deep sleep. As if someone had pulled wool from my ears, I could heard the deep singing voice of Dooley Wilson accompanied by a soft piano. Everything was still black as I slowly opened my eyes. I blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. A plain high ceiling greeted me. When I turned my head to the side, I could make out the outline of the objects in my sight. A block-shaped side table with a mason jar full of fairy lights and a portable speaker was directly to my right playing the soft music. A bit passed that was a tall bookcase and a plush looking lounge chair. I could just barely hear what I thought was the crashing of waves against rocks although I could not see any windows. Sitting up, I noticed what could have been a large flat screen TV across from the bed with a short coffee table under it.
I pushed the soft sheets off of my body and examined the clothes I was wearing. I had on long white pajama bottoms that felt like silk and a matching tank top to go with it. My arms and legs felt shaky as I slid my legs over the side of the bed. Getting up slowly, I fumbled around for the switch to the lights in the mason jar. When I finally had light, I saw that the room was rather large and the carpet beneath my feet was soft. As I suspected, this room had no windows and yet I could hear the ocean. I breathed deeply to keep myself from panicking. I had no idea where I was. I didn't know what ocean I was near. I didn't even know what year it was.
Despite not having any windows, there were, however, two doors. The first door I opened led to an equally large bathroom. A thought flickered through my mind – only Howard would need a bathroom this big. The second door I tried did not open when I turned the knob the first time. On the second try, it softly clicked and I was able to push it open. I peeked my head out of the doorway, not knowing what to look for. When I touched the Time Stone the first time, I landed in Howard's garden and he and Mr. Jarvis were alerted to my presence immediately. This was very different.
The door to the room I woke up in was at the end of a hallway down some stairs. Not finding any light switches, I guided my way by running my fingers against the walls. They felt like rough rock or some kind of stone. As I crept up the short staircase, I found myself on a landing with two options; go up another staircase or walk to the left down another hallway. Choosing to go up the second stairs, I tripped on the last step and stumbled to the ground. I found myself in a dimly lit living space. The light was coming from the full moonlight spilling in from a glass wall looking out over an ocean. The walls were smoother up here with lots of glass windows and doors and three large skylights. Modern art pieces lined the walls and were placed in the corners of the open room. Two electric guitars were on display near the glass wall and a large black grand piano sat on a raised platform facing away from the ocean. In the middle of the room was a lowered area with a few couches and a brick fireplace.
As I looked around the unfamiliar home, I noticed a glowing blue panel on one of the walls. When I walked up to it, I saw that it was a clear touch screen with the thermostat dial, outside temperature, and date and time lit up on it. The time was two in the morning. The date – May 2nd, 2008 – the same day I had left.
"I'm back," I whispered.
Suddenly, the blue screen on the wall turned red. A stern voice from within the room rang out, "Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!"
I started to panic as I heard the numerous clicking of doors locking all around me. I had to collect my bearings and prepare myself for a fight if need be. A shiver ran down my back when a piercing whine alerted me that I was not alone in the living room anymore. I raised my hands slowly as a gruff voice told me to turn around. When I was facing the opposite direction, I was in front of the man who, a long time ago, could have been my prospective employer. He was average height for a man with a strong build. His brown hair was pushed back from his face which sported an eerily familiar style of facial hair. His deep brown eyes glowered as he frowned. He oozed a confidence and smugness that took my breath away. A large circle the size of a fist was glowing blue under his grey AC/DC shirt. One of his hands was extended towards me, encased in red and gold metal with a blue repulsor pointed at me threateningly.
"Don't move, or I'll shoot," Tony Stark grunted. I felt my legs shaking. "How did you get in here," I felt my mouth move but my voice wouldn't come out. "How did you get into my home?!"
Iron Man almost had his repulsor pressed against my forehead when I shouted, "The Time Stone! An orange stone! It sounds crazy, but it's not! My name is Macie Mitchell, I'm a doctor. I'm –" I never got to finish my sentence. Tony Stark had backhanded me with his iron hand, launching me across the room into a wall. I passed out before it came crumbling down on me.
I woke with a start, finding myself in a soft bed again. I groaned as I sat up, feeling my joints crack and pop. Like father, like son, I suppose. Howard hit me in the head when he first met me too, albeit, not that hard. I shielded my eyes from the sunlight filtering in through a glass wall that looked out over the ocean.
"Good morning, Doctor Mitchell," a voice chimed.
I looked away from the glass expecting to see the British man who spoke to me. But there was no one. I was alone in the room. "Hello," I asked tentatively.
"Hello," the disembodied voice replied back. "I am glad to see you are awake at last."
"Uh – excuse me," I rubbed my eyes.
"You have been asleep for two days. Would you like me to check your vitals, Doctor Mitchell?"
I tried to process what the voice had said but I was too confused, "Okay – sure."
A beam of red light came out of the ceiling, making me jolt. It zoomed down my body from head to toe and back up again. After a moment of silence the voice spoke once more, "Everything seems to be normal. Your heart rate spiked upon being scanned, but that is common upon one's first scan."
"What are you," I blurt out as I backed into the bed, falling.
There was a moment of silence before the voice came back, "I am J.A.R.V.I.S."
"What," I murmured. "But – Mr. Jarvis was a man. A real life flesh and blood man. Not a – a –"
"Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. I am an artificially intelligent computer system designed to take care of the daily operations within Mr. Stark's house."
"Mr. Stark? Howard," I exclaimed as I stood up. I rushed door, ready to throw it open when I heard the lock click. I jiggled the doorknob a few times before grunting in frustration.
"Doctor Mitchell, please…"
"Let me out of this room! If you can control everything then let me out!"
"Doctor Mitchell, I am under strict programing not to –"
"I need to see Howard! I need to know where I am! What is going on?"
"I'd like to know that too," a voice said from behind me. Leaning against the now open door was Tony Stark. My heart ached when I looked at my best friend's son. His arms were crossed threateningly over his chest. The deep frown on his face melted away. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Where am I," I asked softly, ignoring his question.
"Malibu."
"And – it's 2008?"
"Yup."
I bowed my head, eyes prickling with tears. "He's gone? Isn't he? They all are?"
This time, Tony Stark ignored my questions, "Dad had his theories about what happened to you. He told me you were his best friend. He always hoped he'd see you again. He said – no matter where you went, you always came back to him. I guess you lied," Tony Stark then snapped his fingers. "Follow me." He turned around and left the way he came. I continued to stare. My body refused to move. The shock rooted me deep into the hardwood floors. When he realized I hadn't followed, Tony Stark popped his head from around the corner. "Uh, hey, Old Maid? This way."
Curiosity finally got the best of me and I slowly followed Tony Stark. We went down a hallway and some stairs before arriving at what looked like a cross between a basement, garage, and a lab. The walls and door were made of glass and a blue touch screen appeared on the glass when Tony Stark approached. He pressed some numbers and with a beep, the door unlocked. He walked in, holding the door open for me. Inside were numerous tables piled high with metals and other junk. A row of buffed up cars lined the back wall which was rock. I tentatively walked in, not knowing what to expect. Howard's son went over to an old metal cabinet. As it creaked open, I looked around. More metal cabinets were placed around the walls and an old jukebox shone brightly across from where Tony was rummaging through something. There was a desk near the jukebox that had two large flat screen computers on top. A large white monitor of sorts was next to that. Tony's snapping brought my attention back to him. He was now sitting in a black leather armchair. Between him and an empty armchair was an old film projector. There was already a reel set up to it.
Tony Stark did not look at me when he spoke. "This film has been sitting in that cabinet since 1990. My dad left everything in it to me. I hadn't touched it until two days ago when you showed up here. I found this," Tony motioned to the film. I took a deep breath, ready to ask about a billion questions, but Tony Stark silenced me. "This is your explanation."
He turned to the projector and pressed the on button. The image flickered for a few seconds but when it became clear there was one word as the title. DOLLFACE. I suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. The image of a man appeared. He was older – much older – but I would never forget what Howard Stark looked like. Howard was standing in an office, swirling some kind of liquor in a glass. He swallowed the contents and then looked at the camera. His aged eyes were tired and full of deep sadness.
"Hey there, dollface," even his voice sounded tired. I was trying to control my breathing as I slowly sat down in the empty chair. It was Tony Stark's turn to stare. "If you are watching this, then welcome back to 2008. The last thing I think you'd remember is being on Johann Schmidt's plane back in 1945. The plane crashed and my team was never able to find your body. Unfortunately, we never found Captain Rogers either."
The reel went on for an hour. Howard explained that, while my body had never been found, he believed that I had done the right thing and the Time Stone had brought me back to 2008. But he said there was a chance that I would wake up in an alternate timeline. One where, my past was no longer my past. It existed in another time entirely. Howard explained that the Time Stone held properties that we'd never even begin to understand. When Howard's team searched parts of the wreckage, the stone was lost. The life I knew before I got sent back in time – and everyone in it – was gone forever. So, in a colossal act of love and respect, Howard had me erased from history. My name, my image, everything about me was omitted from history. Texts and audio recordings and video footages were all doctored to have me removed. Anything that I had been a part of that was unable to be cut out was destroyed. Howard and his partners made sure that no one would know who I was. Together, he and my old war friends were giving me a new life. But I didn't want a new life. I didn't sacrifice my life to be forgotten by everyone who I cared about.
At the end of the reel, Howard, who hadn't looked into the camera since the very beginning, stared right into to lens. "Tony, I know you're watching this. All of the stories I've told you, everything is true. Take care of her for me. She's my best friend."
The film faded and the empty reel clicked off. The breath I had been holding burst out in a long pant. I wiped away the tears and cleared my throat. Tony, who had been slouched in his chair, looked over at me. I could see so much Howard in him. It hurt.
"How did he die," I whispered.
"Car crash. Mom and dad – gone," Tony stood up, rubbing the back of his head. "He left a few things for you. Papers, letters, photos, one of the footages from some campaign he didn't – or couldn't destroy."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, well – he didn't talk about the war much. When he did, you were all he talked about. Made me promise never to tell anyone. Honestly, I thought he made you up. But here you are."
"Here I am," I repeated in a small voice. "What's going to happen now?"
Tony blinked, "Now? Now you live your life."
The Winter Soldier, dressed in all black, walked along Line 4 at the Meydan-e Azadi Metro Station in Tehran. He kept his head down, avoiding contact with anyone who passed him. The man came to a stop in front of a wall of lockers. Robotically, he reached out and touched the combination lock for a small locker at the top of the row. He couldn't remember when or why he had gotten this locker in this country. The Winter Soldier just knew something important was there. With a small click, the door opened. He reached up and felt a paper box. Careful not to crush it, the soldier brought the delicate box down to eye level. His heart raced as he opened the lid.
The soldier leaned against the locker and slid to the ground. He let out a pained groan which he hadn't known he was holding in. The contents of the box were yellowed and stained, but well preserved for their age. Placing the box on his knees, the soldier gently removed a small stack of letters. They were bound by twine. He noted that despite the age of the letters, the twine was fairly new. They were addressed to a Bucky Barnes. The same name on the dogtags in his dream. His hand shook as he turned the stack over, reading the return address. Macie Mitchell. Tears welled in the Winter Soldier's eyes.
"Macie," he breathed.
Under the letters had been a dried up sprig of lavender. He gingerly picked it up and held it to his nose. With his eyes closed, he inhaled deeply. It smelled like the perfume from his dream. The soldier's heart beat rapidly as he turned his attention to the heaviest content of the box. Dogtags. The exact same from his dream. Everything stamped on those tags were stamped on the ones he now held in his shaking hand. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks and is heart ached. It was all coming back to him now. He was Barnes, James B. He remembered being strapped to a table. He remembered the little man in a lab coat. He remembered the pain. But with the pain came his most cherished memory. He was called Bucky.
There was one more item in the paper box. It was a faded photograph. The backside was facing up and, in loopy writing, was the words 'When or Where, Sweetheart'. Underneath the writing was a skewed lipstick mark. The Winter Soldier's hand trembled again as he reached in for the final bit of his lost memories. It took all the courage he had to flip the photo over. What he saw made him sob. A woman was sitting up against roses in a garden. She had a large smile on her face and her eyes seemed to sparkle even in the photograph. She had green eyes, the soldier remembered. Beautiful green eyes like a forest. Macie Mitchell. His Sweetheart.
"I remember you," he told himself. His voice shook as he touched her face. "I loved you."
