Cara felt like she was on trial as she stood in of Natasha's piercing gaze. She looked at the floor, taking in the dull, dirty and stained tiles. The other woman was silent, and the silence was becoming almost unbearable. She looked up, and Natasha crossed her arms.

"Well?" Cara said. "Say something."

"How long?" Natasha said.

"How long what?" she replied.

"Don't do that with me. How long have you been with him?"

"A month or two. It was a few weeks after SHIELD went down."

"And how long has that been going on?" she said, gesturing to the room.

Cara crossed her arms. "Not long."

"Mmm," Natasha said, not looking like she believed her. She chose to ignore that.

"Steve can't know he's here," Cara said. "Please. Bucky isn't ready. He told me he isn't, and I promised him I would keep him safe."

"Steve thinks he was taken by HYDRA again," she said. "I did too. Now we're going to raid a base. We all almost died last time we tried that."

"Nat," she said. "I'll help you, we'll help you. That's what we're going to do anyways. But you can't let them know he's there. Let this just be another mission where one party doesn't know everything. Please, I'm begging you."

"Steve is driving himself insane over this. You know, he thinks it's his fault? All of it?"

Cara winced. "Look. After we take this base down, we can let Steve know he's okay. But then Bucky and me are going away, alright? He's been through so much-"

"We all have," Natasha said darkly.

"I know. I know that. But this is someone I can help. Did you know that he wakes up screaming almost every night? He hasn't gotten to the point where he can forget yet, where he can hide it. And sometimes he gets these flashbacks, and he just... repeats his name, over and over again. The machine the they used to wipe his mind nearly destroyed it, and the arm they gave him nearly killed him. He thinks it's all his fault, and I don't know if I can ever change his mind. Please. I can't see him get hurt because of this. Please. I just can't see him get hurt again."

Natasha stared at her, and something seemed to click in her head.

"How did you manage to get yourself into this, любимый?" Natasha said, shaking her head. Cara flinched the name. Beloved.

"Don't call me that. That's not who I am. I will never be that again. And I was trying to help him, I was just trying to help Bucky. I tried to keep him safe. He's my friend."

"Looks like you two were a bit more than friends," Natasha quipped. Cara felt her cheeks burn.

"It's not like that," she said. "It's... I don't know. Just not like what you think. It's nothing."

Natasha raised her eyebrow. "Really?" she said, the corner of her mouth twitching. Cara recognized that look. She was teasing her. "Maybe I should choose a different profession, because obviously I can't read people. Apparently, kissing in a closet means nothing."

Cara shook her head. "You're still a jerk, you know that?" she said, but even she couldn't hide her smile.

"Look, Cara," Natasha said. "I know you want what's best for Bucky, and so do I, but I have other people to think about. Sometimes it's the needs of the many against the needs of the few. I'll keep those two off your scent, for now. But you have to keep up your side of the bargain. You have to let Steve know that Bucky's alive and well."

"So... You'll help us?"

"Yes," she said.

"Thank you, Natasha," she murmured. "I won't forget this."

"You better not," Natasha said, before glancing down at the ring on Cara's finger, as she walked away. "Go make sure your husband is alive in there. If you stay in the last car of the train, Sam and Steve won't find you. I'll do what I can after that."

"We're not really married."

Natasha gave her a smirk. "I know that."

"I would have told you if I was."

"Good," Natasha said, as she turned her attention to the bruise on Cara's cheek, making a small noise of disapproval. "How did you get hit in the face? Are you worrying about your kicks too much? Are you not blocking? I taught you better than that."

"Out of practice, I guess," she said, as her hand flew up to it, her fingers hovering over her skin. "Anyways. Didn't really stand a chance. It was a supersoldier, and I'm just me."

"Him?" Natasha said, nodding at the closet. Cara shook her head.

"No, HYDRA agent working for the Deathless," she said. Natasha's face hardened a fraction.

"They're looking for you?" Natasha said.

"Of course they are. It's them. That's why we're running," Cara said. She paused. "I don't like that they're working together."

"Cara, the Deathless, and HYDRA, they've been working together for years," Natasha said. "Since you were a child and before that. I've been reading up on them. I knew you wouldn't want to, but someone has to know something."

Cara stomach dropped a little. "Of course. Of course HYDRA had to help them," she said, letting out a shaky, frantic laugh.

"Cara," Natasha said gently. "It's alright. It was just funding and protection in exchange for scientific advancement."

"So. If there's ever been anything even just a little bit evil, HYDRA's been there?"

"Pretty much," Natasha said grimly. She paused, looking slightly unsure, eyes darting to the door again. "How much does he remember?"

"Bits and pieces," Cara said. "Sometimes there will be a flashback, and sometimes he recognize a name, and more's coming back to him, but... I don't know if he'll ever get it all back."

Natasha nodded, and looked like she wanted to ask something else before she cut herself off. "Okay."

"He has nightmares," Cara said quietly. "They're pretty bad."

For the briefest of moments, Natasha suddenly looked incredibly sad. "You can't live in our world and not have nightmares. You can't live like us, and be unscathed."

"I know that, Tasha."

Natasha hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Cara?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you made it out. Too many people didn't. Good people."

"I know," she said quietly. "But good people? They're never the ones to make it."

Bucky waited for Cara to come back in, hands clenched at his sides. If Cara couldn't convince the woman to not tell Steve, he was prepared to fight his way out. He couldn't face them yet.

Not yet.

He could hear her hushed voice faintly, clearing arguing with the other woman. Natalia. Natasha. If there was enough room to pace in here, he would. he didn't know how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? The door swung open sharply. He braced himself. It was Cara. She was smiling.

"She won't tell them," she said. "If we go to the last car, she'll keep them away from us."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"I trust her," she said.

"Why?"

"She's saved my life, Bucky. She's a good person," she said. She tilted her head back. "Come on."

He didn't move.

"Bucky Barnes, you are not staying in there this entire ride."

"Who's gonna stop me?" he mumbled under his breath, but he stepped out, following Cara to the last car. His eyes darted around, looking for any sign of... Anyone. There were too many people after him, he could hardly keep track of it all.

"Sit on the inside, by the window," she murmured in his ear. "Keep looking down, at me. Smile like I said something sweet. Keep your body angled towards me."

He did, smiling a small smile that made it look like he adored her as he sat. She moved with him, leaning against him, his metal arm draped over her shoulder.

"Keep one arm over my shoulder, try to block my face. Then lean forward and we'll talk. We just got married. We're in love. Sell it."

"Why are you in charge?" he said. "I'm older, and more experienced." He put his arm over her shoulder, stiffly.

"I was a spy, and this was my specialty," she said, staring into his eyes, acting like she had said something profound. "You were frozen for half a century. I know what I'm doing."

"But I'm older."

"You're being a child."

"I'm not child. As you pointed out, I'm almost a hundred."

Her mouth quirked up in a quick smile, that she quickly hid, pretending to be annoyed.

"Shut up, Barnes," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, and closing her eyes. "You should get some rest."

"I can't, not here," he said. Not on a train full of strangers. Not on a train with old friends.

She didn't answer, shifting closer to him, and almost subconsciously, he held her tighter. He studied her, taking in the discolored skin on her cheek, split lip, black eye. He could feel her breath on his skin, her heart beating next to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered holding others like this. He remembered holding her like this, when there had been no doubt in his mind that he loved her.

He didn't know if he still did. The feeling admittedly still lingered in his chest, but along with it was a seed of doubt, of fear, of betrayal, and bitterness. She felt the same, and she looked the same, and he saw through the mask she put on sometimes, catching glimpses of the Cara that he had known. He didn't know what it meant. He knew who she was. There was no need to pretend anymore.

So who was he seeing?

He glanced out the window at the trees rushing by. His fingers tapped idly on the armrest. He had taken a train somewhere before the war, but couldn't remember where, or why, or when, exactly. His mother had been with him, and two of his younger sisters (he couldn't remember which ones, or their faces, or how old they had been). He had been drawing a picture of Buck Rogers, the comic hero that both he and Steve idolized. They had fought to be him when they were playing pretend.

("His name is Buck, Steve. That's me. Buck, Bucky."

"His last name is Rogers, and that me. Last names are more important. Besides, your real name isn't even Bucky."

"Neither is his! His name is Anthony, and that's worse than James. He's Buck, so I get to be him!"

"Ma! Bucky's being a jerk!"

"Mrs. Rogers! Your son is wrong!")

As he stared at the drawing through the scope of his memories, the man, an ex-soldier, being frozen in the past until he lived in future. A man out of time.

Looks like we both got to be Buck Rogers, Stevie, Bucky thought, somewhat bitterly.

He remembered that later, there were other comic heroes, but by then, he had stopped spending money on them. He had had to help feed his family first. He knew their names. The Clock, the Phantom, Wonder Man. There were real life superheroes too, or rumors of them made into stories by companies for a cash grab. People like Doctor Occult, the Sandman, Namor, the Human Torch, Zatara, and his own friend, Captain America himself. A few issues of the Captain America comics had been sent to the Commandos, and Steve had laughed his ass off when he saw that Bucky was a snot-nosed kid, a sidekick. Who died. (Of course his character had to die in a explosion. Of course he did.)

When he had still been in DC, before going the Smithsonian, wandering around in stolen clothes, one of the first things he saw was a comic stand, filled with brightly colored pages and art, some new, some old, some larger and bound, some single volumes. There was a sheriff surrounded by corpses, bizarre art depicting fairy tale characters in New York, a large green man tearing through a building, an older looking comic showing a man that looked like an ant, a woman with an ankh necklace (Bucky felt like he knew her). The one he had been drawn to was the one with Captain America. He had flipped through it, and he knew he had read it before, sitting around a snowy campfire, in the middle of a forest somewhere in Europe, drinking bitter ration coffee. He had seen the picture of the young Bucky dying, and had thrown it to the ground like it had burned him. He hadn't even known why then.

The shop owner, who was reading one of his books looked up. (The panels showed a man in a bat suit cradling a bloody, dead child, checking his pulse, finding it silent... "A death in the family," it read.)

"Dude! That one was a new print of a classic! You gonna pay for it?"

Bucky had stormed off, and when the man tried to stop him by grabbing his jacket, he had broke his arm.

Cara shifted against him, making him lose his train of thought. Her red hair fell in her face. Without meaning to, he brushed it away, fingers lingering on her skin. Her breath caught, and she looked up at him, blinking those wide green eyes. He glanced down sharply.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No," she said quickly. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

He looked away. "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep," she said. "I can't sleep. Not here."

Not on a train of full of strangers, full of old friends.

Her unspoken words were the same as his.

"You okay?" she said.

"Ever read comic books?"

"No."

"You should. The old ones."

"I know the inspirations. They're just fairy tales, myths based on speculation and wisps of reality. What's the point?"

"The point? I don't know. It's fun, I guess. At least, it was."

He turned back to the window.

"How much longer?" he said quietly, stretching out his hand on the armrest to his side.

"We'll be there soon."

He nodded slowly, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away in his stomach.

The tapping of his fingers started up again.

-... ..- -.-. -.- -.- / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .. / .- - / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .- ... - / .. ... / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... ..-..

I am James Buchanan Barnes

James Buchanan Barnes

Who is James Buchanan Barnes?

A/N: I have so much to say on this chapter. So much. The author's note is almost longer than the chapter.

I'm so, so, so sorry.

WinterWidow happened, although I'm trying to stick to MCU canon, and in the MCU, Natasha is with Bruce (I am not going to share my opinions on that here because I have many), so I don't think we'll be seeing any of it in the present. Cara and Natasha are pretty close here, and I see them bonding over some of the shit that's happened to them.

I totally headcanon that in the MCU/DCEU/DCTVU that all these superhero types attract a lot of attention, and so the writers in that world do what any writers do, and make stories out of them (happens in this universe too. see any show with a basis in crime for many examples). But like all writers, they took poetic license with some facts, and some things the general pubic just doesn't know, so you end up with Bucky Barnes being fifteen years old (he still dies though because comic writers are sadistic sociopaths who kill off children, and I'm allowed to say that because I want to be a comic writer, and also that's a rant for another day).

Buck Rogers. Buck Rogers is a pop culture icon and one of the precursors to the superhero genre. He was a WWI vet who got accidentally fell asleep in science stuff and didn't age for a few hundred years, waking up in the future. He was first published in the newspaper in 1929. If you're telling me that 12 year old Steve and Bucky did not fight over who was really Buck Rogers, we have very different versions of the boys living in our heads. I haven't read any Buck Rogers comics, but my dad did make me watch the first the episodes of the show from the 70's. That was an certainly an... experience.

I'd like to say, I'm not the first one to mash up DC and Marvel together. There's been JLA/Avengers, a Death of the Endless cameo at Hulk's wedding, and Hellstrom knows Constantine (so maybe it just means that the Vertigo universe bleeds everywhere but idk).

The Jason Todd reference. Oooh boy where do I begin. If you're not much of a DC fan, Jason Todd was the second Robin. DC had this idea to have readers decide his fate through a phone line and then they killed him off at the hands of the Joker, traumatizing both me and Batman forever (because, much like comic writers, comic readers are sadistic sociopaths, and I can say this because I am one). There used to be this old joke that was like "No comic character stays dead except for Uncle Ben, Bucky Barnes, and Jason Todd." (2005 was a big year in bringing back the dead). Batman and Captain America are like, I don' t know, equivalents on either side of the DC and Marvel spectrum, they're the ones that fight, and solve mysteries together (while saying that, I can argue for the same Superman/Cap as well, but that's getting off topic). Bucky was a sidekick (he isn't now, and he'll fight anyone who says so) and so was Jason (haven't read much Red Hood but i'm assuming that he too will fight because he is Jason). So yeah, lots of similarities between Jason and Bucky. Basically I'm batfam trash, and it's there to cause pain to my fellow batfam trash.

The other names here are early comic characters who I imagine were out fighting crime and having comics written about them, although note: the Human Torch is not Johnny Storm but Jim Hammond, and the Sandman is not Morpheus, but Wesley Dodds.

I'd like to imagine that while Bucky was "dying" in the canyon, he met Death of the Endless, and that's how he knew her on the comic cover. She seems like the kind of person (concept... thing) you'd want with you in a situation like that.

Right, okay, I just wrote an entire essay about like three paragraphs. I'm so sorry. Nerd out. If you actually read through this, congrats. As a reward, you get to, I don't know. Get something. An excerpt from next time, a question with an honest answer. Something.