"You let him go in there alone?" Bucky tracked a menacing line so that Fury was less than an inch beyond his fingertips. His rage was held back not by self-control but warned off by multiple weapons aimed at his body.

"It was his plan and he's not alone, Romanova is with him." Fury wiped the blood from his mouth.

"Great, let's go home then, they'll be fine." Bucky continued his prowl.

Fury defended, "He went in there with the kind of plan he comes up with. Full speed ahead. He may not call himself Captain America but he's still serum enhanced, still…"

"Bullheaded."

"I was going to say an Avenger but bullheaded works just as well. He enlisted Sharon's help."

"Sharon? How?" Bucky ran his hands through his hair, trying to steady the growing tremor.

"You're not very good at taking those medications, pal."

His muttered, "Stop it" was missed by Fury.

But not by Sam, "Barnes, come on," He slipped in close beside him, "Let's take a step back."

Bucky veered and kept pacing, "What kind of help?"

"She brought them in as prisoners. Get them inside, they'd get free."

"Prisoners? Did he trust her to help them? He trusted her?" Bucky's barked laugh fell into a groan as he bent to brace his hands on his knees.

His pause erupted into a lunge at Fury. The force slammed them back against the SUV. "You let him do this, you let him walk in there as her prisoner?" The metal fist choked Fury's protests, a knife pressed to his gut stopped his struggle.

Shouts of "Stand down" and "Let him go" went ignored.

The cold hard press of a Beretta deep against his neck got his attention. "Stand down soldier or it'll all be over right now." A faceless man had a clean kill shot if he put a hair's worth of pressure on the trigger.

Sam's muffled voice came through, "Back off! I got him. Get the hell off him!"

An arm snaked through his metal elbow, a hand grabbed the back of his neck, the familiar voice again, "Not this way, Barnes, let's get out of here. You can't help him if you're dead."

Bucky tugged away from Sam's hold as he dragged him towards the pickup. He stalked to the bed, threw the tailgate down and grabbed the Barrett sniper rifle. The duffle bag kicked at him with a muffled "Hey!" He ran the knife up the bag precariously close to Alex's face before dragging her off the tailgate by her heels. "Get the hell out of here. Go find something productive to do." He shoved her away from the truck.

"I am productive, I helped you didn't I?" She straightened her clothes and came back at him.

"Time for being cute is over." He mumbled as he reached to drag a bag of ammunition closer. "This is life and death. You need to go home."

"I don't have a home, anymore." She leaned in nearly under his arm. "You - got it wrecked." Alex stared at him with defiance.

Bucky stopped. "I know." He sighed and faced her. "I'm...sorry. I'm a bad man with a whole lot of bad people after me. That's why you need to go."

She grabbed his right wrist. "The gold bracelet, the cord. You're not wearing it. Why?"

"The cord?" He pulled away and stepped back. "Ah, I - I traded it." He retreated towards the cab of the truck.

She followed. "It was a gift. It was yours. You traded it?"

"Yeah, it was mine." He dug through an array of trash and guns that littered the cab. "I get to do what I want with it. So I traded it."

"I hope it was worth it, giving it away like that." She persisted standing within inches of him.

Bucky pulled the shield from the cab and carefully fit it to his forearm. He mumbled, "I thought it was worth it at the time. Not so sure now." He pushed past her.

She started to follow, "Where is it and who has it?"

He spun around, grabbed her jacket and shoved her against the truck, "Why are you so focused on that stupid cord, it wasn't real gold, or else I woulda sold it or kept it."

Sam slipped an arm between them, "Okay, no fighting kids."

Bucky pushed him away and stepped back, "Sorry I gave it away. I'm an asshole that way. Get over it." He stalked towards the hill overlooking Sokolov's compound.

"It was yours, it was a gift." She yelled as he climbed, leaving her and Sam behind.

Sharon whispered. "Things are fluid, very fluid."

Natasha maneuvered to prop her back against the wall. She nodded and pulled at the zip-tie on her wrists. They didn't give according to the plan. "Let's cut to the chase here. Who's side are you on right now?" A glance past Sharon told her she was in a cell that overlooked the center of the silo. Two guards stood beyond the open door.

"My side." She tugged at the zip-tie around Natasha's feet and looked over her shoulder.

"Listen, Carter, you knew about that red-faced Hydra operative when you led us in here."

"Not that you'll believe me, but no, I did not."

"Bullshit, you knew what we were walking into here." Natasha leaned into her.

She pushed her back, "No. I did not know he was a freak even beyond those two freaks you follow. I spoke to him on the phone. That's it."

"Back to my question. Whose side are you on?" She grabbed Sharon's shirt.

Sharon pried at her fingers, "I told you, Romanova," then slipped something small and hard up Natasha's sleeve. "My side. It'll all be over soon. So no need to worry." She stood and jumped back from the groin kick that Nat unleashed despite being hog-tied on the floor. "Rogers has a broken leg. The man-child is on his way. Sokolov will die a happy woman when the Soldier dies with her. But not before the brains of the operation gets his revenge." She strolled to the cell door. "That's it, in a nutshell, I'd say. Not that you can do anything about any of it. You'll die right here when it's all over."

The cell door slammed behind her. "She's secure gentlemen. She won't be around much longer so if you're interested." She winked. "Later when I'm gone, you might check her out."

Natasha shot her an obligatory snarl then repositioned to face the wall. She murmured quietly, "So, a quick recap and a gift. Sharon, you are a piece of work." She fingered the pocket knife tucked up her sleeve.

The red dot sight was steady and squarely centered between Sam's eyes. He held his hands up. "They're my friends too." He'd followed Barnes to his hilltop vantage point.

"Let me help you get in there." He kept his hands in the air waiting for that red dot to move along.

"You can't help me." Bucky finally relented and holstered the Glock.

"I can help. Two's better than one. I know you're really a plus one with that arm and serum but you can't do this alone. You don't even have an advantage, they know you're coming, they know you're here already and let's face it, that Voice is so loud I heard it myself..."

"Stop it. I get it. I'm a mess but this is it all I got. A screwed up head, a wealth of weapons and no plan. Except get him, get them out alive."

"Getting pretty hot in here, Soldier. Anxiety's ramping up, a memory-wipe would be helpful right about now, clear out the clutter, free your mind to think."

He shook his head slowly.

"That Voice offering any sage advice? Like 'How 'bout letting Sam help you' or 'Let's work with Fury.'"

Bucky prowled a few steps away.

"Barnes, you can't do this alone, I know it's Steve, I know you feel responsible, but he doesn't see it that way."

He stalked up to him, "Shut up! Don't tell me how he sees it, or how I feel."

Sam put his hands up again, "Fine. Not telling you anything else. What do they expect you to do?"

He resumed prowling, "They expect me to give up."

"Or, they hope you will."

"They expect me to find another way in." He ran his hands through his hair and kept pacing.

Sam stepped into his path. "So which is it? Give up or find another way in?"

Bucky stopped but kept looking at the ground.

"Barnes, they know you're here. They think you'll give up to save him."

"No. They know I'll give up to save him." He muttered, "She knows I'll give up."

"Then let's talk this out because no matter what you decide to do." Sam stepped closer. "I'm going in behind you or with you or by finding another way in. Like it or not I'm in this fight." He pointed at the compound and leaned in, trying to make eye contact. "That's Steve and Nat in there. Our friends. So two of us are better than one."

Alex interrupted with a high pitched clearing of her throat. "I'd like to help."

Bucky rolled his eyes then stalked towards her, "Listen, you two-legged unicorn..."

"Enough with the name-calling!" Alex didn't back up when he got to her, instead, she poked a finger into his chest.

"Whoa, are you out of your mind?" Sam jumped in and grabbed her arm to redirect her finger pointing. "Alright now that is how to lose a hand real quick." He maneuvered between them.

She pushed to get around, "The cord, who has it?"

Bucky took a step away from them, "Stop with the damn cord. I'm a jerk, I gave it away. Get over it."

"No really, who has it, I need to know."

He swung back towards her, "You don't need to know anything. Get the hell out of here."

Sam stood with one hand on Bucky's chest and the other holding Alex by the collar.

She shouted, "Tell me where it is!"

Sam groaned and pulled her aside, "He really is a jerk, the more you go straight at him, the less likely he'll tell you anything. Trust me. Either trick him or offer him food."

Bucky resumed his prowling assessment of his target.

"You gave away her present, hurt her feelings, just admit it, you liked it and gave it to Steve because it meant something to you. You are a jerk and completely out of touch with your feelings."

He unholstered the Glock to tap the butt not lightly against his forehead.

Alex hissed from behind Wilson, "No I won't get over it. And yes you are a jerk. The cord has a tracker in it."

He shot back over his shoulder, "Thank you. So glad you and the Voice in my head are in agreement."

Sam spun her around to look at her, "You planted a tracker on Barnes?" An all-out laugh started, he thought better of it and saved it for later when he could make fun of him in the safety of Steve's presence.

"You planted a tracker on me?" He turned around and stepped towards them slowly. "All those months ago, you put that damn cord on me like it was something special and it had a tracker in it?"

"Yes. Not such a stupid kid after all."

Sam saw it coming but Bucky was capable of being pretty damn quick when he was motivated. He lunged at them and knocked him to the ground.

Alex tried to run but he caught her arm and dragged her back. She kicked, punched and generally put up a decent struggle but none of her moves affected him. He hoisted her over his head with a guttural growl.

"Barnes!" Sam threw himself into his back, knocking him a few steps forward all while holding her at arm's length in the air. "Let her go! Don't do this, she's a kid!"

Bucky let her drop down-into a tight hug.

She dangled there for a moment while Sam hung off Bucky's metal arm. A squeaked "Ouch, too tight," cued him to let her fall to the ground.

"What the hell?" Sam rushed to check on her.

"Steve. I gave it to Steve. Is it working? Can you find him?" He thrust his metal open palm near her face, "Give it to me."

"He's coming for you as I said he would." The old Widow whispered close to Steve's ear. "He is so predictable and easily manipulated."

He blinked her into focus, "He's going to kill you." He struggled with a distinct drugged after-effect that colored what he was seeing and feeling. He wondered if this was what Bucky was talking about when he went on one of his "These meds suck, too many side effects" tirades.

She smiled as she patted the back of his hand. "His will is weak. I control him. He'll kill who I tell him to kill." Sokolov tested each restraint as she circled around him, slipping a finger under the straps until she came to his right leg and hesitated. "He wasn't that way in the beginning. Those first handlers struggled with him even after he learned of your death." She wrapped her hand around his thigh. A flash of throbbing pain shot through his groin. He pressed his head back against the chair fighting to hide how much that particular touch hurt. He vaguely recalled being tossed like a rag-doll up a flight of stairs before the big guy stomped on his thigh until the bone snapped. Sokolov's fake smile greeted him when he came out of the fog.

"Good to hear he was the same asshole I knew back in the day." He muttered through gritted teeth as he strained against the chair and restraints to take in the room.

"I broke him. He resisted but eventually, I won."

"You tortured him." He began to flex both arms, pushing against the leather bands that held him in the chair. "You wiped away his memory. That's not winning."

She moved to his right arm and adjusted the flow of an IV. "Just some fluids to keep you hydrated. Well and some sedatives to control you. That break will heal quickly, but it serves our purpose for now. These restraints wouldn't hold without the added incentives of chemicals and a fractured leg. Our Soldier taught us that."

He pushed against the head restraint to follow her. "What do you want with him? It's over, he's out, let him go."

"He is still worth something to us, to me." She muttered.

"You nearly destroyed him. You know he hears voices right? He can barely function without medication. You can see that. He said you gave him the meds. Let him go." He pushed against the restraint on his left leg. There was no moving the right one, for now.

"His work is not finished." She crossed behind him.

Steve studied the room as much as his drugged vision would allow. "I met your new version, he seemed more - enthusiastic than Bucky."

"Yes, we have more willing participants these days. Winter Soldiers that don't require mind wipes or persuasion. They are loyal to the cause of their own free will."

"Then let him go. His memory is crap, your wipes and torture took care of that." He gauged the size of the room by the echo of their voices, the distance from the chair to the walls.

"After his betrayal in Boston? Letting him go is impossible. He knew that when he attacked us. Besides he has our secrets."

"Like what? Where you left the car keys? Or your grandmother's recipe for blini? Yeah, he told me about the Russian pancakes you'd feed him every morning. Hot chocolate and blini with whipped cream." He pulled out all the Russian references he could recall from Natasha's late-night monologues while working on the Project Barnes Offensive.

She moved back towards his injured leg. "I have a low tolerance for disrespect Captain. I'm sure he's told you that."

"He never even mentions you. And I'm not a Captain, anymore."

"That is good to know. It tells me everything I need for the moment. Thank you."

Steve watched as her hand slid up from his ankle to hover over the distinct deformity of his femur. He braced for her touch.

"You see, I made him that way. He doesn't tell you about me because he is a good Soldier, obedient to his training, obedient to me. Always obedient to me."

She wrapped her hands around either side of the break and twisted. He drove his head back against the chair, stifling the scream as she watched him try to hide the pain from her.

Sam sat on the ground and studied the schematics of Fury's silo that Alex had on her phone. "That right there. That vent, it's a draft vent, I can shimmy down there."

Bucky stood over him, looking out over Sokolov's compound.

"Assuming both silos are basically the same, that vent will lead to the old control room." Sam pointed to a tall cement pipe sitting isolated past the mound that contained the blast doors. "There's a door to the outside on the other side of that hill. I get in, get the doors open, Fury and his crew come to the rescue."

"That vent is too small for you." Alex offered as she looked over his shoulder. "I can fit in there."

Bucky closed his eyes. Listening to the Voice's constant undercurrent was irritating enough. Now with each hour away from the last dose of the medications it was getting harder to keep his thoughts straight never mind sort through Wilson's attempts at humor and the girl's feisty backtalk. He took a deep breath searching for some steadiness as things began to unravel in his mind.

Sam shook his head. "No. Unacceptable risk. Thank you for the tracker, the schematics, the weapons and what else? The sedative hangover from the clinic? Yup. Your work is done here."

"Fine. Do it yourself. I'll stand by and watch you get stuck."

Sam defended, "I'm skinnier than I look."

He glanced at the increasingly distressed look Bucky was wearing. "Easy-peasy," he lilted.

Bucky frowned, "We are so dead. Well, you are all dead. I, on the other hand, will be in hell."

"Hey, this might work. Come on. We'll get Fury's people in there. Steve and Nat are already in there. Sharon's what? Fifty-fifty on our side? Forty-sixty probably."

"Sure. Let's do this. What can go wrong? I've been missing Hydra anyway. At least they didn't make me clean the toilet."

Sam looked puzzled, "Steve makes you clean the toilets? That explains a lot."

Bucky reluctantly dumped some of his weapons on the ground. "I need these two, and that one, bring that bag of ammo and that one over there."

"Barnes, seriously I'm just one man."

"Ok if not those then at least bring this." He pulled the shield from his forearm and held it out towards him.

"No, no, no." Sam shook his head and stepped back.

"Just for now. I can't bring it in there. I can't lose it." He pushed it towards him. "When they take me down, I don't want them..."

"What's the point of having it if you don't use it, Barnes?" Sam pushed it back towards him.

"You'll bring it in there. If I'm still standing, if I'm still me. You can give it back." Bucky thrust it towards him again.

Alex interrupted. "You do that a lot don't you? Give away gifts?"

Sam closed his hand on the edge of the shield and frowned but tugged on it.

Bucky held on. "You're just holding it, temporarily, until you give it back in there. Right?"

"Yes holding it only." Sam laughed, "I will not give it away, I will give it back."

Bucky let go after a moment of tug-of-war then headed down the hill away from Alex. "Wilson, I need to talk to you. Come here."

Although he was leery of anything that Barnes ended with "Come here," he went anyway.

"If this goes south if the Widow wins and well, you see that I'm him again. I'm, you know."

"I get it, Barnes."

"You need to end it. Bullet to the back of the head." He muttered and pointed at his temple.

Sam shook his head, "Barnes, not gonna happen. We'll get out of this. You'll get out."

"You don't know her. I can't fight her." He whispered. "I can't go back there."

"We'll get you out. We'll all get out."

Bucky grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled him close. "If we don't, if I don't, you need to end it. Put me down. Swear it."

"I am not swearing to that. Steve would never forgive me."

He relaxed his hold but didn't let go, "He's a dreamer. He thinks I just need some therapy and a few gallons of ice cream."

"Now we're talking two different things." Sam laughed, "Who you are now in all of your asshole glory and then there's the Winter Soldier."

Bucky frowned at the asshole comment but kept pushing, "She's going to put me back in that chair, you know that, right?"

"I know she wants to try but things are different now. You have us. Me and the unicorn." He nodded towards Alex.

"This isn't a game, Wilson. Promise me. If you see that I'm the Soldier again, you'll put a bullet in my brain, what's left of it." Bucky stood chest to chest with him.

Sam could feel the tremor through the Kevlar vest. He wondered how much of it was the missing medications or genuine fear.

"I can't make that promise. You've come back from what they did. Steve never gave up. I was a skeptic but both of you proved me wrong. You made me a believer now you're stuck with that. I'm on Team Cap or Nomad or whoever the hell he is."

"Steve, he's Steve." Bucky mumbled then, "If you don't have the balls," he pushed him away, "then ask Romanova, she'll do it. She doesn't care about forgiveness."

"Where's Romanova?" Steve licked bone-dry lips.

"All in good time. She is alive and well for now. You'll see her soon but first, a history lesson spanning the last seventy years. So much to learn about your old friend. He had raw potential in the beginning, but stubborn and difficult. It took some of my finest work to shape him into the asset."

"He hates you." The straps on his left arm began to stretch from his twisting efforts.

"Perhaps. But don't we always hate those that correct us, those that keep us in check. He is an unruly child as I'm sure you've discovered these past few months." She laughed and stroked his hair.

He tugged his head away from her hand despite the restraint. "Give it up before he gets here and kills you."

She circled around him, "You know he nearly starved himself to death in the early days. He thought you died, he gave up. Until we found a replacement. That was my idea, you know. He never knew that." She whispered, "I watched them through the windows. He was very happy with you, well, not you."

The overhead lights went dim. The crackling sounds of old audio filled the room. English words, Russian words, laughter, all filtered in through the speakers embedded in the walls and rumbled through the room. Most of it was Bucky's voice, strained and cracked but recognizable. His words were in English at first. As the old Widow had said, defiant, angry. Steve could hear the pain in his tone, he steeled himself against the sound of Bucky struggling with his emotions. He knew what it would sound like. He remembered Bucky crying once as a kid. He couldn't remember why but he knew the sound and how it made him feel sick inside. Then Bucky's voice started speaking in Russian, halting and whispered it grew over time more fluent and confident and the English words disappeared. Steve pushed against the head restraint to find Sokolov, "Bucky was always a smart guy. Now he's multi-lingual. Good for him."

A grainy image stumbled to life surrounding him. One picture morphing into another. All of them of Bucky, before the war, in uniform, as a Howling Commando. The cycle of still images rolled around the room and fell across Steve's body. He could see Bucky's face play out across his legs and abdomen. The reel of pictures ended with Bucky on a surgical table his left arm a bloody stump. Steve felt the fear he had in his eyes even across seventy years. The images began to loop again. An endless cycle of who he was up to the fall with his voice playing in the background.

Sokolov's voice nearly startled him close to his ear. "This is how you remembered him before the fall. Yes?"

"What's your point?" He twisted to bring his eyes close to hers.

"Progression, you need to see how he fell, not just the famous fall from the train but his fall as a human. From the man you loved to a weapon that no one could love except his maker." She crossed behind him.

"You loved him? This is a joke, right? You fucking destroyed him, you didn't love him. You don't destroy what you love. You sick pathetic..."

She lunged for his right leg and slammed her fist into the break.

He dragged in a breath before,"He hates you."

Her fist drove into the break again, "He isn't your friend, your lover, he isn't Sergeant Barnes." She moved so he couldn't see her again but could still hear her voice. "He is the asset. My weapon, my child. Damaged and forever changed."

Steve closed his eyes, "He doesn't belong to you, he isn't a weapon. You damaged him but brokenness can be healed."

"Look, look at this. You'll enjoy this part Captain." She appeared on his left pointing at the oversized image in front of them.

The excitement in her voice pushed him over the edge with the pain driven nausea. He fought to keep from vomiting as he opened his eyes to the sepia-toned video of Bucky with a blond-headed strapping young man who looked a lot like himself.

"It's uncanny how that handler looked so much like you. We searched a very long time to find just the right candidate. I'm very proud of this part. He cared deeply about him. About you." She crossed out of his sight.

He tugged at the restraints on his arms, twisting in the darkened room. "Hey, come back. He did tell me something about you and that Captain America wanna-be."

Sokolov moved so he could see her again. "Go on."

"He told me he gutted that guy when he remembered me. He said that he never cared about you. That you wanted him to call you mother and he detested it. You made him vomit. He said he chose me, not you. He chose me over you and he'll do that again when he kicks in your front door and wipes the place down with that muscle-bound jerk you have following you around that's masquerading as a Winter Soldier."

"We shall see, Captain, we shall see who he is loyal to soon enough. He's on the grounds even now."

She smiled as she closed the door leaving Steve alone with all of what Bucky never wanted him to know.

Bucky strode up to the blast doors, the picture of a well-armed dark danger as he methodically scanned the terrain. He directed a cold glare at the surveillance camera and paused. His thoughts went down a quick checklist: The tracker device slipped into a make-shift pocket in his waistband, a small knife tucked in the vest against his scars and the memory of his last few minutes with Steve. He wanted that quiet moment tucked in tight together, arms and legs tangled, naked in the dark to be the last thing he consciously remembered before he turned off all logical thought and chanced losing everything again.

"A glorious day Soldat. Coming home. Mother will be so pleased. Although I'll be sad to say goodbye to you once the mind-wipes begin. I've enjoyed our adventures these past few months, especially your sex moans."

Bucky steeled his will to stop the Voice's ramblings from disrupting his grasp of their frail plan before he took a step back, closed the metal fist and commenced pounding at the seam of the blast doors. His shoulder ached at first from the percussive effects of vibranium meeting the steel but that soon passed as it always did. The sensors adjusted and settled to give greater force to each blow and allow his flesh to absorb the kickback and pain. The opening started to give and bend under the force, he kicked at the weakness until his hip grated its protest. He started screaming to push through the pain.

"Your last stand, Soldier? Is that what this is? At least the last one you'll remember."

Sharon stood leaning against the wall, arms and legs crossed. She watched Gieta Sokolov as she stared intently at the surveillance image of Bucky kicking, pounding and screaming at the blast doors.

"He is beautiful isn't he?" She cooed more to herself than to Sharon.

"Sure, beautiful. If you're into that kind of emotional dysregulation."

The old Widow smiled as she ordered the soldiers, "Let him in but you are not allowed to harm him."