Bucky and Sam have a conversation. Corrie asks a favour of Bucky and in the process reveals a little more of herself. All errors are my own and unintentional. Would love to hear your thoughts.

A Moment of Doubt.

"You and I need to talk."

Sam stares at Bucky for a long moment as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

"About what?" he enquires, his voice becoming wary. Bucky takes a mouthful of his own before he answers. He needs the caffeine boost, he didn't get much sleep after Corrie's revelations last night and as a result he feels a little crispy around the edges this morning.

"Corrie."

He watches Sam's expression change as he shares with him what Corrie told him, sees the brief shock as well as a deeper anger bloom in his eyes.

"You got any thoughts?" Bucky asks once he's finished.

"Apart from wanting to beat the everlasting shit out of him if and when I get my hands on him? Not right now, no but that doesn't mean that I won't."

"Apart from that, yeah."

Sam shrugs. "I can imagine Corrie is hot on the trail of her deadbeat ex and devising an extraction plan. We're helping her with that, right?"

Bucky nods. "I get the feeling she's been watching us since we first started all of this, seeing if we'd be up to the task if and when she found her daughter."

"I think rescuing Amanda Taylor was a good audition," Sam murmurs and Bucky nods again.

"It makes me wonder why she took this job in the first place though. You'd think, after what she went through, she wouldn't trust a guy again, no matter who he was," he wonders. He did sense a kind of reservation with her at times and definitely to begin with but as the months have gone by, it seemed to have melted away into some kind of friendship.

"Well she trusts Fury and she's read our files. He would've talked about us to her, Cap would've also. Maybe it was because of him, he vouched for you to Fury at Stark's memorial, you can't get better than a recommendation from Captain America himself."

"Maybe," Bucky demurs.

"You're not that guy anymore. We all know that and Corrie for sure knows that now."

"Well she didn't know that guy at all."

"She would've seen the tapes as well as read your file."

"God, how many people have seen those?" Bucky sighs out.

"I'd hazard a guess and say pretty much everyone still employed by SHIELD and connected subsidiaries." Sam sees how Bucky rolls his eyes at that.

"Be glad those tapes exist because we now know what happened to you, what HYDRA did to you and why. If they didn't, if we hadn't, who knows what you'd be doing right now," he reminds him.

"I'd either be dead or sitting in a cell in a Super Max prison doing life without parole, definitely would be if Ross got his way," Bucky murmurs darkly.

"You still think that should've been your punishment?" Sam enquires, his voice quiet. The look Bucky sends him is bleak. Of course he does and it's Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"I thought we'd talked about that? I thought you understood? Nobody holds you responsible for any of that. No court of law would, could or should convict you on it."

"So you're telling me I should just get over it?" Bucky demands sharply.

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" Sam retorts, clearly offended. "Of course I'm not. That's between you and whatever deity you choose to believe in. I'm saying you should begin to forgive yourself. Didn't anything I said to you before this job sink in?"

Bucky doesn't respond but Sam isn't fooled.

"I do hold myself responsible for it, Sam. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, I still did it. I did all of what they say I did and it's something I will never forgive myself for." Bucky's voice is quiet. Sam just regards him for a single long moment.

"I'll say this one more time just to be clear. You were tortured and you were brainwashed. You didn't have a choice in the matter." His voice is level, controlled. "Because you have proved yourself over and over since those dark days. To Steve, to me, to Corrie and to Fury. I know Steve offered you the Shield first and you turned it down and that you recommended me for the job. You turned it down because you think you aren't worthy of the task but you will be. One day."

"You think so?"

"I know so. One day at a time, Barnes, one foot in front of the other but you can start by being a little less harsh on yourself."

"And if any of us thought you were still that guy, you wouldn't be here because none of us would've come within six feet of you," another voice adds and Bucky spins around and sees Corrie standing there, a half smile on her face.

"How much of that did you hear?" Bucky demands. Corrie shrugs as she slowly walks towards them both.

"I won't lie. Pretty much all of it." Her eyes move to Sam.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks. For a long moment both he and Bucky think she isn't going to respond but eventually she nods.

"I am and I'm going to be even better once I get my daughter back. It's okay that you know, I wanted you to know but I couldn't face going through the tale again so Bucky offered to do it instead so he's not breaking any confidences." This time she looks at Bucky and holds his gaze for a long moment.

"Thank you for listening to me last night. I really appreciated it."

Bucky inclines his head. "Anytime," he replies.

And he means it.

It helps that Bucky pretends that the punching bag is Patrick Donoghue.

After listening to Corrie spill her guts, he retreated to his room and spent the rest of the night in some kind of research mode, hunting down any information he could find on the man who had hurt her and taken her kid away from her. He wanted to get the measure of a man who would do such a thing. He's the main reason why he's feeling extra crispy around the edges today, that he wishes it was wasn't a punching bag he's currently fighting against. That he was in front of him, to vent the anger that brews inside of him every time he remembers those pictures Corrie showed him on her phone. Instead he takes it out on the punching bag.

He's alone in the gym this time. He works steadily, pounding the bag, working up a sweat but being careful not to burst it open with his left arm. He's damaged a couple doing that so now he tries to be careful but it's difficult to reign it in.

Corrie enters the gym in time to see the punch bag fly of its hook and hit the floor and roll away. Bucky stays where he is, glaring at it, breathing heavily. She guesses he's been at it for a little while judging by the sweat that gleams on his skin, the way his hair sticks to his forehead and to the back of his neck. He then huffs out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little and he heads towards the damaged punchbag. Corrie follows him and he lifts his head and sees her approach as he leans down to pick up the chain.

"How many is that now?" she enquires.

Bucky glances down at the dormant bag. "Three. Sorry."

"Don't be. We have replacements." She watches as he begins to haul it away.

"At this rate, you might not for much longer," he warns her.

Judging by the split in the leather, he might be right.

She watches as he hooks a new bag up.

"Can I ask you something?" she begins and he glances at her and gives her a restless kind of shrug.

"Sure, I guess…"

"I'd like to ask a favour of you." This time the look Bucky sends her is a little more wary.

"Okay…" He stretches the word out as he begins to unfasten the tape around his right hand. He's obviously decided against potentially obliterating another punchbag today.

"When I first came to America, I wanted to know how to protect myself." She glances at him to see his eyes on her face as he continues to slowly and methodically unwind the tape.

"And did you?"

"Some. Natasha taught me some moves, some tricks but it's been a little while and I'd like…if you're willing…to have a refresh and perhaps, learn some more?" The nerves are squirming a little in the pit of her stomach as she watches how he absorbs her request.

"Well from what I've heard and vaguely remember, Natasha was the best."

"What you vaguely remember?"

A half smile drifts across his face. "I thought you'd read my file? In Berlin? Natasha was one of those who tried to take me down, along with Sharon. Punched me in the nuts I seem to remember…somewhat …vaguely," he reminisces with a slight tilt of his head.

"And that didn't work?" Corrie's eyes go wide. Being punched in the nuts by Natasha Romanoff should've brought him to his knees and kept him there. Bucky shakes his head.

"No. I was triggered at the time. It rocked me back a couple of steps but I had to be knocked upside the head, lights out for the trigger sequence to be broken at the time." He finishes unwinding the tape and he looks at her square in the eye.

"Question. Why ask me? Why not Sharon or even Maria?"

Corrie takes a slow deep breath and ignores the spike in her heart rate.

"Because I need to practice against someone bigger than me. Someone stronger. A guy."

"And you chose me."

"Hey, you don't have to. I can just as easily ask Sam." She begins to turn.

"No. Wait." Without thinking he reaches out and grabs her wrist, quickly letting go as she turns her head and she looks at him. "Sorry." He gives his head a shake, "I was just taken a little by surprise, that's all. Sure. I'm happy to help out. Want to start now?"

Corrie nods.

"Okay," Bucky murmurs and he drops the tape on the floor beside the punchbag and follows her to the mats.

He watches her warm up as he stretches. He can sense her trepidation from where he's standing. Eventually she's ready and she stands across from him, just out of arm's reach.

"One thing, before we get started," Bucky begins and he sees her brief look of puzzlement.

He bites back a smile. "Just don't punch me in the nuts."

He grins as she begins to laugh.

He bends at the waist and pulls much needed oxygen into his lungs and looks up at Corrie who stands nearby, doing the same thing.

"I thought you said you needed a…refresh?" he wheezes and sees how she looks at him.

"I do. I haven't trained like this since before…" She waves her hand around and he understands. Before all of this began.

"Natasha trained you well."

"You were pulling your punches though."

Bucky straightens up but doesn't answer, doesn't confirm or deny her claim.

"You're not denying it." Slowly Corrie straightens up too.

"You don't want me coming at you, Corrie."

"Why not? It'd be the perfect use of what Natasha taught me if you did."

"The difference being, Natasha had years of training and experience. Years. She could and did handle me. You couldn't."

"How do you know?"

"You saw my tapes. You tell me. You held your own just now but trust me, you don't want me in Winter Soldier mode." He sees her wide eyed expression.

"You want to be able to protect yourself against Donoghue. I get that and if you defend yourself against him like you did with me, you'll be fine."

"What if I'm not?" He sees the naked fear in her eyes, the faint tremble in her body.

He wants to hold her, reassure her but he holds himself still. She won't welcome it.

"You are. I'm happy to keep training with you if you want me to but what I won't do is unleash the Soldier onto you so don't ask me again." He licks his lips.

"From experience, men like your ex are cowards. Like I said last night, he thinks that you're weak and that's going to be his big mistake because you're anything but. That's going to be your strength. He doesn't know you now and you're sure as hell not that girl he used to push around and beat. If there's a time when you have to face him alone then you will defeat him. I have no doubt about that. You wouldn't have gone through all of this not to."

"He still scares me," she admits in a tiny voice and this time he does go to her, does draw her into his arms and he does hold her. She remains perfectly still, resting her head against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her.

"Of course he does. What he did to you, of course he does but you'll overcome and you will prevail and you'll get Rory back."

"What if she thinks I'm dead. What if she doesn't want to come with me?"

Bucky draws her away from him and he looks into her eyes.

"And what if she doesn't? What if she's just waiting for you to come and get her? You're gonna locate her and Sam and I are gonna go and get her for you." He hears her take a slow deep breath. She shakes her head.

"No. The day I find her, I'm coming in with you."

A hot shower. He leans forward, bracing one hand against the tiled wall and feels the pound of the hot water between his shoulder blades, hitting that sweet spot just below the base of his neck. When the water hits that spot, he feels his muscles relax, a warmth rush through him. He then lifts his head and the water hits his face instead. He has his dinner date with Katie soon and he will admit to being more nervous than usual. This is their first meeting since the events at the cemetery and he's sure that she'll have more questions. At least they're talking though so he's glad she's keeping that option open. He likes talking to her.

And then there are the photo albums she's said she's made for him. Of the rest of the Barnes clan. And it's bound to contain pictures of his parents as well as his brother and sisters. He's not sure whether he's completely ready to look at them but at the same time there's a need inside of him to see them, to know. He needs to know that they got on with their lives after he was reported missing, killed in action. He knows that they have, he's seen their gravestones proclaiming them to be parents, grandparents and even great grandparents but he just needs to know what happened next. He wants to hear about their lives, the funny stories to go with the sad ones. He remembers the closeness of his parents and his siblings. He wants to know if that continued.

The snow is thick beneath his boots as he heads to the book store. It's freezing cold and the sky looks heavy with the promise of more snow. He huddles up in his jacket, hood pulled up, hands pushed deep into the pockets. The streets are deserted, people choosing to remain indoors. He doesn't blame them.

Katie's storefront appears in front of him and the windows are dark. He knows she will have closed up early for this evening and that the door will be locked. Instead he heads to the door that leads to her apartment and he rings the bell. He waits for her to answer, to buzz him up. After a moment it does and the door clicks open and he goes inside and heads up the single flight of stairs.

He listens as he climbs upwards. Usually he hears the sounds of occupation: the muted sounds of a radio playing, footsteps, even just her voice but there's just silence and for whatever reason, it feels odd, off. The last time he was here, she was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She's not there now.

"Katie?" he calls out and he listens intently. There's no reply. Not a sound. Maybe she's had an accident?

Or maybe…

Slowly he moves his hand beneath the back of his jacket, to the waistband of his jeans and he carefully extracts his gun, holding it firmly in his right hand.

He controls his breathing as he makes his way the rest of the way up, each footstep slow and deliberate. He contemplates calling Corrie or Sam but what if it's a case of she's busy right now and doesn't have time to meet him at the top of the stairs? It would be embarrassing if the cavalry arrived and she was just in the bathroom.

The door is unlocked and it gives a slow quiet squeak as he carefully pushes it open. He slips inside, pauses and listens. He can't hear anything.

He enters the kitchen in slow measured steps, his weapon down by his side, his heart doing a slow deep pound, every single sense on alert.

And then he sees Katie lying on the floor.

He feels his heart stop in his chest, his eyes go wide in horror.

"Katie?"

She doesn't respond. He makes his way to her side, checking doorways and potential hiding places as he does. There's no one else here. He gets to her and drops to his knees beside her prone figure.

"No no no…" he mutters, his heart beginning to gallop.

"Be okay, please be okay…" he whispers to himself as he touches her. She's still warm. He sees the bruises and the swelling; her face and neck. There's a graze at her temple too. She's been beaten, throttled and fear pushes forward.

"Shit," he mutters, feeling for a pulse. Almost sags with relief when he feels a slow sluggish one against his fingertips. He reaches for his phone, intending to call for help. As he does, he hears the quiet creak of the floorboard behind him and he pauses for a millisecond before turning. His eyes widen when he sees Jonathan Kelly creeping towards him, a weapon in one hand. Bucky lunges up to his feet, using the momentum to power forward. His left hand is in a fist and he punches into Kelly's right shoulder. Kelly's eyes go wide and he gasps and drops the gun. Bucky's expression is grim. That bullet wound will still hurt like a son of a bitch. He lifts his right hand as Kelly staggers back, clutching his wounded shoulder and he aims his gun at the centre of his forehead.

"She's just a kid. If you wanted me, you should've just come for me," Bucky tells him.

"And where's the fun in that? I want you to know what it's like to lose someone who means everything to you," Kelly responds, wheezing from the physical pain he's still feeling.

Bucky takes in his pallor, the sweat that's appeared on his forehead. "You don't know me very well, do you?"

"Maybe not but I do know you have a whole family here, nephews, nieces, cousins they're all over the walls. Including you." He indicates the framed photos on the wall in Katie's living room.

"They're irrelevant to this." Then something occurs to Bucky, "God, you're Jack aren't you? The guy who had a coffee date with Katie. Damn it."

Jonathan grins with pride. "It was embarrassingly easy to do. I saw you come into the store after our encounter. Saw you leave too, looking like you saw a ghost. Did some homework. Buchanan Books, a family business, owned by one Katherine Louise Barnes. Had to be a connection somewhere to the famed James Buchanan Barnes. So I introduced myself to her, made out I was looking for a particular book and she was so eager to help, so accommodating." He mocks, "Does she know about your Winter Soldier past?"

Bucky doesn't reply. Instead he lifts the gun slightly higher, bracing his shoulders. Ready.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet between your eyes," he whispers instead and his finger tightens on the trigger. His head twitches to the side when something or someone moves at his right. As he does so, he feels pain explode in his head and then nothing.