Sam was not above whining at this point in their day, "Come on Barnes, let the paramedics do their job. Steve's leg is a mess, you look like a bit player in a horror movie, my butt's hanging outta my uniform and Nat's looking good as always. It's time to get a beer, or for you, iced tea. We all need a month's worth of sleep." His quiet cajoling didn't help his nerves or the situation as he positioned himself near Bucky where he stood his ground centered in the corridor, an unresponsive Steve wrapped around his back.

Sam tried to banter his way closer, "Nice field dressing on Steve's leg, is that an IV pole and belts? Hate to think how you picked up that skill." The sidelong warning glance from Bucky was easily visible in the jittering light of multiple flashlights trained on him by Fury's men. Sam stopped his advance.

"Rogers is looking pale, is that even possible with the serum?" Fury took up a position behind Sam.

"Apparently so, if he loses enough blood?" Sam never shifted his gaze from Bucky and didn't lower his weapon.

Natasha worked to de-escalate the tension, she crept closer, her tone soft, "Barnes, you did it, you found Steve. You saved him. Now I need you to talk to us. Steve's looking bad; we need to know if you're you, that we're good to go here." Her stance remained neutral, but her hand was on a stun disk. "Judging by the number of knee-capped Hydra operatives lying around, you were Barnes a few minutes ago, and you've got Steve, I know that's what matters, but there is this issue right now." Natasha nodded and shifted her eyes to the woman standing between Barnes and themselves, "Agent Sokolov."

Bucky's haunted stare was a familiar given; it remained an intimidating factor. The abrupt halt in his steps when they ran towards him added to their concerns, but the engulfing welcome stopped short when the old Widow slipped beneath his arm to stand directly ahead of him. Her hand went to his chest; a bloody screwdriver hovered near his throat. "Good evening. It is a pleasure to see all of you again." Her voice cracked, lacking it's usual authoritative tone. She nodded in return towards Natasha.

A faceless voice behind Fury whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "I've got the kill shot on her, Sir."

Fury countered, "Hold that." Then asked, "Sergeant Barnes, what is your status?"

Bucky's rasped "No," went unheard for a heartbeat, he pushed it out again, "No. Don't shoot her." His shift to balance their weight broke the tension in his stance; it brought a grunt of pain from Steve and a jump to the lights covering them. He mumbled, "She's with me," then louder, "With us, she's with us."

"You are joking, right?" Sam couldn't hide his level of being pissed off.

"Barnes, you still haven't answered my question." Natasha remained focused. "Last I saw you..."

Bucky interrupted, "Good. Me, I'm Bucky. Not him." He shook his head as his gaze went from Natasha to Sam and back again.

He muttered, "Never again," when his eyes met Mother's cold stare. He returned her hard look and added, "You are only alive because of Steve." A step forward into her space, "I don't care that you killed Shostokov, I don't care that you saved me." Another step pushed the point of the screwdriver into his neck, he leaned close to her face, "He said not to kill you. I'll do that for him, not you. It's over. Now, get the fuck out of my way." He stumbled forward, knocking her aside, her startled look and command of, "Soldat," went ignored. The clatter of the screwdriver hitting the floor confirmed her capture when Fury's men swarmed past him. That, and the sound of her curse, "I will always be in your head, Soldat, you will never be free of me."

His steps grew stronger, pushed forward by the tightening embrace of Steve's arms around his shoulders, a tilt of his head tucked Steve's breath closer to his skin. A small and secret feeling of contentment crept into his mind as he carried him up the corridor towards the launch bay and away from his past.

"How's Rogers?" Fury's absent demeanor didn't make his concern any less sincere, although he continued to stare out the passenger window at the darkened snowy landscape under a moonless sky. The best kind of night for a high-security transfer.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and took her eyes from navigating the SUV long enough for a glance, "Imagine Rogers in traction, high on excellent drugs, pining for his best friend for the past three days. That's how he's doing. The real question is 'How's Sam holding up?'" Their shared laugh was subdued and fell away quickly.

"Speaking of Barnes..."

"Dodger. No word. No sightings. Nothing. He's a ghost, you know."

"I find that hard to believe; he'd just disappear after everything that just happened." Fury wiped at condensation on the window.

A slight shrug as she turned down a dirt road with two similar vehicles following, "He wanted to go with Steve to the hospital, we stopped him, Steve begged him not to come, too dangerous for him. When I looked out the back window of the ambulance, he was standing next to Sam. Then he wasn't."

Fury turned towards her, "You don't think he went after Hydra again? Or looking for Sharon? We didn't find her for hours."

"No. I'd say he's close. He wouldn't want to leave Steve. But ultimately, he's off his meds, like it or not; they helped with the paranoia, the seizures. He hasn't been back to any of our known locations. I know that much."

"Rogers knows he's missing?"

"No." She bit her lip, "We haven't told him. He thinks he's lying low. We'll tell him soon. We need to secure Sokolov; then I'll start looking for Dodger." Their conversation fell away until she glanced at him again, "I'm sorry about Sharon." She checked the rear-view mirror, "She betrayed you."

Fury shook his head, "Disappointing; that I didn't see it coming; for both her and us. She was a good agent once. Money and revenge blinded her. What an inglorious end gutted at the bottom of a silo."

"Sokolov's a dangerous woman, Nick. Ninety pounds, elderly, she can fool a lot of people into thinking she's just someone's much-maligned grandmother." She parked the vehicle close to the waiting chopper. "Are you sure the Raft is the right place for her?"

Fury shook his head and made his way out of the SUV, "If not the Raft then where? There's no place else. I know you're worried about her ability to fool people, but the Raft is the best we have to offer."

Natasha murmured, "That's what I thought," as she crossed to meet the old Widow and her guards as they converged at the chopper.

"Ms. Romanova, it is good to see you again. How is my Soldat? Well, I hope." The strain of the last few days showed in Mother's new-found frailness, her voice quiet, her hand splinted and wrapped. An inexperienced eye might think it was cruel to have an old woman with chain shackles around her feet and wrists, attached to her waist. No one there that night was inexperienced.

"Your Soldat is dead and gone. Agent Sokolov. Nothing to discuss." Natasha noted how her words drove her shoulders inward; her head bowed, she refused to be fooled by the display. "Time to go to your new home." She nodded towards the guards as they reached to steady the old woman's steps. She shook them off with an unexpected fierceness to struggle on-board on her own.

"Both of you will be coming with me of course?" Sokolov called from the chopper bay. "It was such a memorable experience the last time we flew together, do you remember that? He nearly took us out of the sky that day. Magnificent." Her smile was made all the more disturbing by her eyes closed; head tilted back hum of satisfaction.

Fury deadpanned, "No. I'll pass. Thank you. But Ms. Romanova is always up for a thrill ride. Isn't that right, Natasha?"

"All about the thrills." She climbed into the co-pilot's seat, threw on the headset and gave the pilot a thumb's up. He nodded in return.

"Ms. Romanova, do you think my Soldat will abandon me? You don't know him very well if you think that. He will come for me. He'll shoot this out of the sky and whisk me away to safety." Sokolov's voice barely rose over the sound of the blades.

Natasha didn't answer her directly, but her gaze fell on the pilot. He stared straight ahead, adjusting the controls, intent on the night sky. She shifted her look towards the passing landscape below and kept it there as the pilot turned to face the guards, a gun in his hand, he shot each one. Mother was the last to go down.

"You care about her don't you?" Natasha whispered as they dragged the guards from the idling chopper and laid them on their sides.

Bucky didn't answer.

"She knew you'd do this. She knew you'd save her."

"You of all people should understand this. It isn't simple. And - I am not saving her." He finished putting zip-ties around a guard's ankles and wrists.

She grabbed his arm and tugged him to face her, "I get it. This way you know where she is. You control her, you get the final say. But what about Steve, what are you going to tell him? That you squirreled your tormentor away at a private prison run by nuns in the middle of the Canadian tundra?"

"Yes. No. That's between him and me. Besides, it's perfect. You have no idea." He pulled away and headed for the chopper door.

She followed him, "Don't lie to him, not now. He might be more understanding than you think."

"No. You and I, that's it. He'll twitch then he'll blab it accidentally at some big Avengers reunion and ..."

"No, not his style at all." Natasha caught up with him, her lean against the pilot's door kept him from opening it, "I suspect, you don't want to tell him because you'd rather he thinks you've put her in the past."

"Enough with the psych analysis, I have a therapist, I know I need to call him, been busy lately. He's on my to-do list. Oh and let's address the real question, yes, I'm back on my meds." Bucky slid his arm between her and the chopper and nudged her aside.

"Good to know, but not my point. Barnes, we're only as sick as the secrets we keep."

Bucky laid his body against the door, his forehead on the window and muttered, "Then the two of us are two damn sick individuals."

"I don't disagree." She tucked herself close beside him.

"Maybe, I'll tell him." He rolled his head to face her, "I get it. What the fuck do I know about shit like this? I know guns, knives, killing. That's it."

Natasha pushed his hair from his face, "Well, even the two of you are never too old to learn." She paused for a heartbeat then left a kiss on his cheek and stepped out of his way, "Be safe and do us a favor, don't make him wait too long. He mopes. It's disgusting."

"I noticed. Trust me." Bucky jumped in and pushed the engines to take off; he called to her, "Natalia. Ah, you know, thanks, thank you. Right. Okay. See ya, soon."

Natasha settled on the ground next to the tranquilized guards; she watched the chopper's blip of lights until it was far in the distance before she sent the 911 text to Fury. One last glance at the horizon, before she zip-tied herself and waited for their rescue. She rehashed her story of the Hydra operative pilot overpowering all of them. She mumbled, "Barnes, I've lied to Fury, you want me to lie to Steve, I've supposedly been overtaken by a single rogue Hydra agent; my reputation is taking a hit on this one, you're gonna owe me big time."

Steve slipped in and out of the drug and pain-induced stupor for several days after the admission to the private hospital arranged by Fury and Cassie. Only a select handful of caregiver's entered his room, Alex and Jonah drifted through his awareness, all the others were nothing more than floating bodies with blank faces and mumbled kind voices. He never questioned when everyone called him Mr. Smith. Sam once again, stayed close.

"Where is he, Sam? Is he here? Is he safe?" Steve slurred his words. The same questions every day, multiple times a day, forgetting he'd already asked. Forgetting they'd already answered.

Sam's responses became rote, "He isn't giving us his location. No, he's not here. Yes, he's safe."

It didn't take long for Steve to regret his mandate to Bucky, "No you are not allowed to come to the hospital. I'll turn you in myself if you show up." He was grateful that Bucky groaned at the empty threat, but he felt the profound pain of wishing he'd ignore his don't-follow-me directive.

Natasha drifted in after the first few days; she looked tired, worried. Not her usual state.

Steve grilled her as well, "Is he hurt? Did Stark find him? Nat, where is he?"

"No more hurt than when you last saw him. No word from Stark. I don't know where he is." She answered in a way that was technically not a lie.

His fever-fueled dreams came while awake and asleep. In them, he thought he saw Bucky, moving through the room in the darkness; watching over him from the chair; he was sure Bucky held the cool cloth that brushed across his forehead and neck each night.

"I know he was here last night, Nat. I saw him."

"I have no knowledge of that, Steve. He's got us on a need to know basis."

Each night Steve tried to stay awake, watching for him, but the medications and night sweats overtook him. He'd fall asleep only to wake fitfully to find a lanky nurse in long sleeve scrubs and latex gloves puttering around the room. He swore the man offering his silent protection had a ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses as well. The reassuring presence was accepted and allowed him to drift off to sleep again.

The night finally came where he woke to find his hand tangled in that ponytail as Bucky slept with his head on Steve's chest, his metal arm thrown across his abdomen. "Buck? It's you. I thought I was dreaming."

"Of course it's me. You think I listen to your stupid mandates?"

"Not safe here pal."

"Safer here with you than out there alone." Bucky pushed himself up to hang over Steve and study his face. "Not so feverish tonight right?"

"Better, yup."

"Good. You're looking at me instead of staring at the light fixtures, guess that's a good sign." He crawled a knee on the bed and leaned to press a careful kiss on his lips.

Steve pulled him close, his hand still tangled in his hair, he kept the kiss going. He pushed his tongue to slip between Bucky's lips asking for more; he teased his mouth open and slid his tongue deeper, hungry for the taste of him.

Bucky pulled back, "Maybe we should wait. In case you haven't noticed, you're in traction." He titled his head towards Steve's trussed up leg.

His words were barely out when Steve pulled him back into the kiss; he dragged his tongue along his lips until he relented and let him in.

Bucky told himself he wasn't going to let this happen, had lectured himself each night as he sat watching over him, matching Steve breath for breath, that he wouldn't have sex with him as he laid in traction in a hospital bed.

But, Steve owned all of Bucky. He gave in to Steve's insistent hand as he pushed his metal fingers down between his legs to stroke his half-hard cock. He welcomed getting lost in the push of Steve's tongue deep into his mouth, the taste of him sent a flush of warmth across his skin. He bit and tugged at his lip, only to fall back to their mouths pressed together, driving his tongue deeper.

Steve moaned softly into Bucky's mouth as he dragged the metal fingers the length of his cock, his hand wrapped around Bucky's, guiding the hesitant touch. He folded his metal fingers around the shaft, and moved their hands together, his fingers entwined with the metal, they worked to stroke his cock to hardness. A flush of heat rolled across his abdomen as he pictured his hand guiding, leading Bucky's to bring him to come.

The need to feel his skin against his own was the only reason he pulled his hand away to let Bucky's tight and sure grip keep going on his own. Steve snaked his hand under Bucky's scrub top to take a fist-full of his abdomen, pulling a groan. He raked nails down his chest and dragged his hand across his skin until a fingertip slipped across his nipple, the touch pulled a shiver from Bucky.

Steve wanted more than a tremor he wanted a rush of adrenalin, he pinched his nipple, twisting and pulling until he heard the whine and felt it roll into his mouth, it sent a rush of blood between his legs.

Bucky pulled out of the kiss and dropped his head to Steve's chest, his cheek rubbing against the hospital gown until he found his nipple, he dragged his tongue across the material, making it wet and revealing, he bit hard to pull a gasp from Steve. He dragged his cheek across his chest again to find the other nipple; he looked up to catch Steve's eyes following him. He smirked and licked his tongue deep across the hard erect nub.

Steve's gasping moan was as much for the nearly forgotten endearing smirk as it was for the play with his nipples. The wet soaking tongue caress, the bite and twist between his teeth drove his urge to climax, but the flash of his Bucky from their childhood in that smirk and the look of mischief in his eyes pushed Steve to come. His loud moan was covered by Bucky's lunging kiss, as he stroked his cock through the spasming come and kept pulling at him slowly until Steve guided his hand away from the over-sensitive skin of his groin.

Bucky's knee slipped off the bed as he took in the wetness that spewed across his metal hand and up Steve's abdomen, his loud "Look at you what a mess!" Was followed by a growing hysterical laugh that Steve wrapped up in his arms and pulled close to reverberate into his chest. A laugh that had been missing from Steve's life for seventy years.