Winter Soldier's Endgame

by WintersSunrise

After FATWS, Bucky is in serious legal trouble and gets an idea in his head about how he can finally make amends. He decides to go back in time and try to save Tony Stark. Things don't go according to plan. Standalone sequel to my previous story: Winter Soldier Resurrection. You don't have to read that one to understand this one, though it provides a tiny bit of extra context.

4. Chapter 4

When Steve came to, the world around him was raining ash and dust. It was quiet—far too quiet for a battlefield. Every part of him hurt. His skull pounded, but he forced himself to lift his head. Thanos' forces were dissolving around him. Battlefield survivors stood still in stunned disbelief.

Steve groaned as he pushed himself to sit up. His eyes scanned the area until he spotted Tony crouched in his suit in front of a dark figure. The beautiful glow of the infinity stones caressed the fallen man's left arm, the energy sending scorching tendrils up the neck, into the….

He breath caught in his throat when he recognized the face.

Steve pushed away the pain and forced himself to his feet, stumbling toward the two men. He fell to his knees next to Tony. The other man's dark brown eyes snapped to him, confused, almost horrified. Tony shook his head, indicating he was lost about what just happened.

Steve turned his gaze onto the dying man in front of him. The face was unmistakable, as were the unfocused dark, blue eyes. The hair was shorter, and there was stubble on the soft jaw instead of the heavy beard, but it was Bucky. Somehow.

And he was dying. Steve looked around, searching the mass of bodies for the other Bucky—the long hair, the beard, but he didn't find him.

He wasted no more time, turning his gaze back to the friend in front of him and then, onto the bright stones nestled in the large metal glove encasing Bucky's vibranium hand. The arm itself glowed, looking almost one with the gauntlet. With one swift motion, he yanked the glove off the hand and set it to rest between himself and Tony.

Steve looked back up into the ashen face of his oldest friend—the heavy eyelids revealing slivers of blue that seemed to focus on something far in the distance.

"Bucky."

The eyelids fluttered open, the eyes drifted until they settled on Steve's face. Bucky's lips moved. His chest trembled, then a choke escaped him. Steve felt the sting of tears. His vision blurred, and the hot wetness spilled onto his cheeks. He had no idea what was happening, or how this version of Bucky was here, but it was Bucky, and he'd somehow saved the Universe.

Steve yanked off his mask so Bucky could see his face, then grabbed his friend's hand, encasing it in both of his.

Bucky tried again, and this time managed a whisper. "My pocket."

Steve sprang into action. He knew the effort those words had cost his friend. He patted down Bucky's pants pockets, but found nothing, then went to the outer jacket pockets but again came up empty handed. Finally, he reached into the jacket and felt the inner pocket. His fingers brushed against paper. He pulled out two envelopes.

There was handwriting on each one – the first one read, "George and Winnifred Barnes."

"For my folks," Bucky's voice croaked.

Steve was confused for a moment until he remembered they'd have to head back in time to return the stones, then it became clear. Bucky had never gotten to say goodbye to his parents. This was his chance.

"God, Buck…" When he looked back up into his friend's face, he knew Bucky was gone. A sob escaped him. He leaned forward, resting the top of his head against Bucky's still chest. Steve felt a hand on his shoulder.

Tony's voice was soft, inches from his right ear. "The other one's addressed to you."

Steve forced himself to lean back. He hadn't realized he'd dropped the envelopes. Carefully, he picked them up. He set the one addressed to George and Winnifred on Bucky's leg, then turned the other one over and opened it. He pulled out a single sheet of paper and unfolded it.

The name at the top was his.

"Steve," the word morphed, blurred, and tears fell on the paper. He blinked, forcing himself to focus on his friend's last words. He read them softly out loud.

"I know you must be confused. I hope I didn't screw this up. If I did, then I'm sorry won't cut it. You won't be around to read this. So, if you are reading this, then I hope that means Thanos is dead and Tony is alive.

You've probably figured out that I'm from the future—a little less than a year, actually. I know we're not supposed to mess with timelines, but we already have. You found your happily ever after with Peggy. I know that hasn't happened for you yet, but I also know the idea is already in your head. You're a man of your word, and you made her a promise. You both deserve happiness. I'm glad you lived a wonderful life. You deserve it—perhaps more than anyone ever has."

Steve's voice broke, a sob escaping him. He closed his eyes, but the tears fell, cascading down his face and neck. He felt the paper gently pulled from his hand. He heard Tony take a breath and opened his eyes to look at him.

Stark held the paper in his hand and gave Steve a gentle smile. "I got this, Cap."

Just then, the warmth of another figure settled on his other side. Steve glanced over to his left and blinked through the tears to see the dirty, bloodied, and bearded face of his Bucky. The other man's confused, blue eyes drifted between Steve and the motionless, crumpled figure of the other Bucky. Steve shook his head. He didn't have an answer for the unspoken questions in those eyes.

Tony cleared his throat, then looked down at the letter and began reading.

"In the original version of this battle, Tony saved the universe."

Stark's voice caught, and he paused for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued. Steve closed his eyes to listen to his friend's final words, in Tony's voice.

"I don't want to take that away from him. He forced the stones from the gauntlet and used them to defeat Thanos' army. It cost him his life. He left behind a little girl who needs him, and a wife who loves him. He's the real hero here, not me. Make sure the world knows that."

Tony took a hitched breath, then continued.

"I made a list of amends after you left—bad people I had helped as the Winter Soldier, good people I hurt. I never put Tony Stark's name on that list because there was no way I could make amends for killing his parents. There was no way I could be of service to him. He died saving us.

Then something happened back in my time—months from now, and this idea came to me. I can't bring back the Tony of my time, but I hope I can create a timeline where Morgan gets to grow up with her father and Pepper gets to grow old with him. That assumes he keeps himself out of trouble, of course.

I'm sorry for the rift that I caused between you two, and between the Avengers. I hope you don't see my death as throwing away those sacrifices. This is the only thing I could do for you—at least some version of you. The world gets to trade up from a 106-year-old headcase to Tony Stark.

I leave behind no one except Sam, and he'll be okay, I hope. He doesn't deserve to be burdened with my brand of craziness. Hell, up until a few weeks ago, he barely tolerated me. I don't blame him. He sacrificed a lot for me, and I tried to kill him twice. I know he only did it for you, though. He's loyal, and a very good man. Tell him I appreciate everything he gave up to help me. He risked never seeing Sarah or his nephews again. That's a lot…too much. He's not the only one who made that kind of sacrifice. Clint. Wanda. Scott. Natasha. That's bad math.

Remember Mrs. Doyle used to say math doesn't lie? She was right. I know what you're going to say. I passed that class only because you coerced me into studying for the final instead of hanging out with Becky Russo. You're right. In the grand scheme of things, though, passing that class didn't really help me in my future endeavors. Bad joke, I know."

Tony stopped to take a breath. Steve let the silence wash over him, a tiny smile on his lips knowing that, even in his last days, Bucky's humor survived. Steve choked back the emotion swelling in his throat. He felt a hand on his left shoulder. Bucky from the present.

Tony continued. "Don't worry, Steve. I'm okay with this. I should have died a long time ago. I don't belong here. The world doesn't know what to do with me, and I don't know what to do with myself. The only reason I made it this far is I didn't want to let you down or dishonor the sacrifices of your friends.

But, the truth is, I'm broken, and not even Shuri and a court-appointed therapist can fix me. I've made some terrible calls—and I can't blame Hydra or the Winter Soldier. The recent ones were on me—James Buchanan Barnes. Looking back over the past century, I've been the cause of so much death and destruction. I know I couldn't help most of it, but the body count is undeniable. The world would have been a better place had I never been born.

I hope, in your timeline, I can change that. That's selfish of me, I realize. I'm not sure whether I'm doing the right thing. I hope I am. It's all I ever tried to do…when I had a choice.

Don't worry about the other me, the one in your timeline. You deserve to live your life and stop sacrificing yourself for me. Yes, he's a mess. I was—am—a mess. But I hope what I've done makes things a little easier for him. The only advice I can give him is to not shut down. I did. I pushed people away—Sam, in particular. There's so much that's been broken and pieced back together inside me that I was afraid if I opened up and let any of the crap inside me out, I wouldn't be able to hold it together, and I'd crumble. I never risked finding out. He has to risk it if he hopes to make it through.

There's one last thing I hope you know. You're a little brother to me. You always have been. I'm finally going to be okay. I've gone from one fight to the next for almost 90 years. All I ever wanted after remembering who I am—who I used to be—was peace. Twice, I tried to fight for things bigger than myself, and twice I failed. I hope this third time's the charm. Don't grieve for me. Just give me an awesome eulogy and remember me for who I once was—that kid from Brooklyn who tried to keep your punk ass out of trouble.

Goodbye, Steve.

Your friend and brother in spirit,

James Bucky Barnes

P.S. I guess I should let you know there's a time travel machine in my motel room. Parker inn off Saratoga Blvd. Room 4. Someone should probably go retrieve that and keep it safe. Also, there's about $100 bucks left of the cash Sam slipped me. Give it back to him—your Sam, anyway. Tell him, 'Thank you' for me.

Finally, I've made a list of amends for after I get the infinity stones. I'm not sure how successful I'll be at working through that list before the stones do me in, but—heads up—there may be some people who need help having things explained to them and getting to where they're supposed to be. If so, I know you and the others will make sure that happens."

Steve heard Tony take another long, deep breath. A hand came down on his right shoulder. Steve didn't open his eyes. He fell forward and grabbed the still, hard shoulders of Bucky's body and sobbed for all that had been taken from his friend.

Even with everything Hydra had done to Bucky, some part of him had held on—but he hadn't been okay. He wasn't okay. This wasn't right. None of it was right. He'd left Bucky back in '44. He'd be damned if he'd leave him now.

No! No way in hell!

This was not how Bucky's story would end. He deserved a shot at happiness. He deserved at least a few years of a life without torture, brain wipes, and battlefields.

Steve straightened and opened his eyes. His gaze dropped to the gauntlet, and he picked it up.

"Cap?" Tony's cautiously inquired.

Steve looked around and spotted a broken piece of his shield. He picked it up and pushed the stones out of the gauntlet one by one, letting each one fall gently to the ground until only the time stone remained. Then, he lifted his hand and slipped the glove over it.

"Stop!" A firm voice commanded. Steve looked over and saw the stern face of Dr. Strange. "You don't know how to use that. You could cause an endless time loop."

Steve set his jaw and shook his head. "I can't let him die."

Dr. Strange held out his hand. Steve eyed him skeptically.

The sorcerer gave him a hard stare. "I do know how to use that. You have my word. I'll try to bring him back."

Steve nodded as Strange took the glove from him, slipped it over his hand, then held out his arm. A green circle appeared, and Strange placed his fingers on it, pointed it at Bucky's motionless body, then dialed it slowly counter clockwise.

-0- -0- -0-

A blur of motion and time swirled around him. He was on the ground, then moving backward and upward onto his knees. The world around him seemed to dissolve momentarily, and he was on the ground again, crashing into something hard. Air rushed into his chest, tinged with smoke and dust, and he realized he was gasping. That meant he was breathing – and he was alive. Images coalesced in front of him. Bodies. Colors.

Blue. Red and Gold. A red cape.

He blinked up at them, and the images solidified. He found himself staring into several faces—Steve, Tony, and Dr. Strange. Thor and green Banner stood behind the sorcerer.

His gaze slid over them, coming to settle on his own. A momentary wave of disorientation washed over him as he looked at his own battered, bearded face, and then realization returned.

He was in 2023, at the battlefield with Thanos.

That realization brought panic that he'd somehow screwed up and the entire universe would die and be reborn thanks to him. "Thanos." He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping the area, searching for Chitauri, Thanos, for…

There was nothing, just a cluster of survivors, along with Steve and the others.

"Thanos is gone. You destroyed his forces." Steve said, his voice soft but heavy.

Relief drained the breath from Bucky's lungs, but confusion soon took its place. He focused on Steve's bloodied, dirt-streaked face. Tear tracks lined his cheeks. He looked like something that had been swallowed and spit back out.

"What happened?" Bucky asked. "How am I alive?" Then, a thought occurred to him. "Am I alive?"

Dr. Strange answered. "Your friend Captain Rogers here was about to make a cosmically foolish decision and unsuccessfully attempt to use the time stone to rewind your physical essence to an earlier state. I intervened and did it for him—successfully, of course."

Bucky stared at the sorcerer, processing the man's words. "You used the time stone to bring me back?"

Strange nodded.

Bucky leaned his head back and sighed. Well, this development really put a crimp in his plan. What was he supposed to do now? He had no way back to the timeline he'd came from—as much as that one sucked, it was where he belonged. Having two of him in one timeline was never part of his plan. The world certainly didn't need a duplicate of him; one had done more than enough damage.

He took a deep, resigned breath. "You're a real pain in the ass, Steve."

All of a sudden, Bucky found himself pulled into a crushing hug against his old friend. "Hey," He couldn't help but smile against Steve's shoulder and brought his arms up to return the embrace. After a moment, Steve pulled back, and Bucky sank against the pile of debris behind him as his gaze darted from face to face. "Um, why didn't anyone think of that with Tony the first time around?"

"Well, would you look at that?" Clint's voice interrupted the moment.

Bucky watched as all heads snapped up. Steve pushed himself to his feet with a groan, his gaze focused on something behind Bucky. Clint held out a hand and gestured in the same direction.

Bucky rose to his feet and turned to follow their gazes. The Avengers complex stood about a football field away, looking new and completely unscathed. Large tents reminiscent of the ones the U.S. army used in WWII peppered the battered grounds around it. He stared, dumbfounded, at the sight. The restoration of the Avenger's complex hadn't been on his list, nor had the cluster of WWII tents. When he was using the gauntlet, he vaguely remembered hearing the moans of the injured around him and thinking about himself and the other prisoners returning to base camp after being captured by the Germans. The idea of having a soft place to land for the injured around him had just popped into his mind, but it had no specificity to it. Had that shadow of a thought from his dying brain somehow created this? And, if so, what other things had he inadvertently done?

"I'll get these stones to safety." Dr. Strange's voice interrupted Bucky's stupor. The sorcerer seemed entirely unfazed by the building's appearance.

"What the hell is happening? Where are we?" an unfamiliar male voice exclaimed.

All heads turned toward the voice and, for a moment, time seemed to stop as Bucky stared at the two figures standing a few feet away. He recognized them instantly. The older man with the gray hair wearing a slightly vintage business suit was Howard Stark, and the blonde woman standing next to him was his wife Maria. She wore a light blue business dress. A string of pearls adorned her neck.

Tony stumbled toward them. "Mom? Dad?"

Maria Stark tilted her head and looked at her son, her brow creased. Tears filled her eyes. "Tony?"

Tony dropped hard to his knees in front of them, disbelief evident in the slouch of his shoulders and the limpness of his arms. He shook his head.

"My God." Pepper came up alongside him in her silver suit, her helmet retracted. Her eyes were fixed on the couple in front of him. "Tony…." She reached down and put a guiding metal hand on his arm and helped him back to his feet.

"What's happening here?" Howard Stark asked, his eyes darting around the torn landscape, hopping from face to face, and then settling on Bucky.

Bucky froze under that gaze, vaguely aware of his past twin making a fast retreat, but his own feet refused to move under the force of the once-dead man's stare. Howard's attention was soon diverted when Tony took a couple of stumbling steps toward them and pulled each one into a firm, ecstatic embrace.

"What's happening?" Fear laced Maria Stark's question, and her right hand absently clutched at her throat. "Tony? What's happened to you? You're hurt, and…and you look so much older."

Tony leaned back. "This is going to take some time to explain, Mom. Just…" He turned to glance back at Bucky, his eyes and face wet, and swallowed hard. "Thank you."

Bucky nodded an acknowledgment. Suddenly, other voices rose, some familiar, some not. Movement caught his eye, and his gaze shifted to the shock of red hair walking toward Banner. Yori's son was a few feet behind her, terror on his face as he stood in one spot and took in the chaotic surroundings.

Steve stood alongside Bucky, taking in the developments one by one as they became evident, until his eyes, too, found the familiar redhead.

"Well, this is unexpected." Natasha walked up to Thor and Banner. Both men's heads whipped toward her, but Banner looked as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"Natasha?" Bruce whispered.

She studied him skeptically. "Is this an alternate dimension? Is that where I got sent?"

Banner pulled her into a gentle hug. "How are you here? I tried to bring you back."

Clint was there suddenly, his eyes glistening, an odd emotion that looked like a mixture of joy and anger on his face. He stared at her, and she pulled away from Banner, giving the green guy an affectionate pat on the arm, to meet Clint's steady gaze with a firm one of her own.

"Clint." She nodded her head. "I guess this answers the question of which of us would win in a fight."

His face broke out into a huge grin, and he hugged her. "Damn you! Goddamn you, Natasha!"

Banner walked up to Bucky, shaking his head. "Was this you? How?"

Clint and Natasha turned toward him as well. Bucky glanced over at Steve, who looked to be completely and utterly shell-shocked.

"The guardian of the stone told us this couldn't be undone," Clint said.

Bucky looked into Natasha's face. She seemed human. He wasn't sure his idea would work. In fact, he still wasn't sure it had. His stomach dropped for a moment as he considered the possibility that the woman before him was nothing more than a facsimile that looked and sounded like Natasha, but was empty inside.

"I'm not sure if I did the right thing here." His looked from Natasha to Clint and back again. "How do you feel?"

Natasha eyed him curiously. "Confused." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "I take it I have you to thank for this, somehow?"

"Bucky?" Steve prodded. "Why did it work for you and not Banner?"

Bucky sighed. "When I was in the hotel room working out my list of things I wanted to accomplish with the stones, I wasn't sure about Natasha. I remembered that Banner had tried, but she couldn't be brought back. I took a break and turned on the T.V. for a few minutes. A science fiction show was on." He glanced at Steve. "Star Trek. It was written in your book. Did you ever watch it?"

Steve nodded. "A little."

"Well, turns out there are a lot of different Star Treks. I have no idea how many, and they all seem to take place in different times or places. It's confusing. Anyway, one of them has a guy named Ryker with a beard, and the episode had to do with a transporter accident that made a duplicate of Ryker. The transporter sort of reads a person's pattern, kills them, and then makes a copy of them somewhere else. Well, in the episode, the original Ryker didn't get killed, just copied. Anyway, it gave me the idea. If I couldn't resurrect Natasha, could I make an exact duplicate of her in the moment before she died?"

"So, I'm a…copy?" Natasha's face went slack.

"I'm not actually sure if you're the copy or the original," Bucky explained. "I just wished for a copy and for you to be here. It was more of an image and concept in my head. But one of you died, and one of you came here." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save you completely. One of you still died."

Banner spoke up. "Does it really matter if you're the original or a copy? If the copy is exact, it's the same as the original. He basically created a Star Trek transporter effect to read your pattern and bring you here."

"But what about the soul?" Clint asked. "He said a soul for a soul."

"Can a soul be copied?" Natasha asked.

"And what happened to the other Natasha's soul?" Clint asked.

Bucky shook his head. He wasn't even sure there was a soul, or a God—he used to believe in such things, but after everything he'd seen, he couldn't imagine there being one all-powerful God, certainly not a loving one, anyway. If there was no God, was there even a soul? Maybe all he or anyone else was was simply an arrangement of atoms and the soul was the collection of thoughts, feelings, and memories that made up each person.

"I'm sorry. I don't know." Bucky looked into her green eyes. "Did I make the wrong call? Is this worse?"

Natasha smiled. "I don't feel any different than I did before. So, thank you, I guess."

Clint moved forward and stopped to stand a few inches from Bucky, studying him for several seconds. Bucky held his gaze, prepared to take the punch, if that's what Barton needed.

"Clint," Steve put a gentle hand on a Barton's arm.

Barton leaned forward and pulled Bucky against him. "Thank you," he whispered, then gave Bucky a quick pat on the shoulder as he tilted back slowly to cast a smug look at Steve. "I'm glad I picked your side to help save this guy." He flashed a muted smile, then offered Natasha one final, long look. "Let's go help some of the survivors." He swiped quicky at his eyes as he walked off.

She nodded and, with a lingering look at Bucky, followed Clint as he led the way. Banner nodded approvingly at Bucky, then smiled and leaned forward. Bucky once again found himself pulled into a hug, but this time the force of it almost made him pass out.

"Bruce," Steve's voice intruded, "ease up. I think you're crushing him."

"Oh, right, sorry." Banner released Bucky. "Thank you, man."

"You're…welcome." Bucky gasped, sucking in a much-needed breath. He still hadn't gotten used to having people look into his face and thank him instead of beg for their lives.

Banner turned and headed after Natasha and Clint to help the injured. Bucky watched them leave. It felt awkward being hugged so much. Except for a couple of recent incidents with Steve and Sam, the last time he could remember hugging another human being was in 1943.

Bucky took a breath and spotted RJ Nakajima. The young man had wandered only a few feet away from his spot. He was wearing the same sweater and lanyard that he had on the day Bucky shot him.

Bucky swallowed and slapped Steve gently on the arm. "I, uh, I have to go deal with something." He walked toward RJ, vaguely aware of Steve following behind, at a slower pace, giving him space.

Bucky approached RJ. He didn't think the man would recognize him without the face mask and long hair. That was one small blessing.

"Hey." Bucky cautiously approached the younger Nakajima. "RJ, right?"

RJ turned to him suddenly, surprised, terrified. "What? I…" He swallowed. "There was a guy. He had a gun. He…" RJ shook his head and looked around. "Where am I? What's happening?"

Bucky held his hands up, trying to imagine what RJ must be feeling. One minute, he'd taken a bullet through the head, and the next minute, he was here. It would be a lot for anyone to process. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay. I know you must be pretty overwhelmed and scared. You're okay. You're safe here. It's a lot to explain. You're Yori's son, right? I know your father. He's been very worried about you." Bucky gestured toward the tents surrounding the Avenger's campus. "Why don't you come with me. We'll get you situated, and then arrange a ride home."

RJ hesitantly moved closer to Bucky. "Where am I?"

"You're in New York."

RJ stopped and shook his head. "That's not possible, I was…."

"At the Hotel Inessa, I know. It's okay, we'll explain it all. It's going to take some time. Just follow me. I promise you'll be safe."

RJ nodded absently, still taking in the devastation around him. When he reached Bucky, he looked back at him. "Thank you, uh…who…" His voice trailed off as he looked into Bucky's eyes. "Do I know you? Who are you?" There was a hesitation in his voice.

Don't recognize me. Bucky took a deep breath and forced a reassuring smile. "My name's Bucky. You like Red Bean Mochi, right?" He hoped to distract RJ from trying to piece together why he seemed familiar. "Your dad told me that's one of your favorites. I know he'd love to share some with you when we get you back home."

"Have we met?"

Bucky hesitated. "Once."

RJ tilted his head. "Where was that? Was it with my Dad?"

"No." Bucky turned toward the tents. "We can talk about that later, but right now, there's a lot going on here, as you can see." He swept a hand out at the smoldering debris and bodies. "Let's get you to one of the tents, okay, so I can work on helping some of these injured."

That seemed to do the trick, because RJ nodded and moved to follow Bucky. "Of course." He coughed and looked around. "But..what happened here?"

"It's a long story," he answered, as he led RJ to one of the tents and set him down on an empty cot. He offered the young man a reassuring smile. "Good thing you have your name tag on you." He pointed to the dangling lanyard. "We'll get you a ride to Brooklyn soon, okay?"

RJ just nodded as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

"I don't think you're going to have active service," Bucky said. "You gonna be okay here for a little bit?"

RJ nodded once again, absently, as he stared down at his phone.

Bucky turned to leave, but RJ's soft voice stopped him. "Is this...Yomi?"

Bucky glanced back at him. "No. You're very much alive."

"Hey, does anyone know who this is?" Bruce's voice carried from a distance.

"Stay here. You'll be okay," Bucky told RJ, then ducked out of the tent.

He spotted Steve a few feet away, helping an injured Wakandan into a tent. Bucky followed Bruce's voice, navigating around a pile of debris, and saw Banner Hulk standing near two huddled figures—a mother shielding her little girl. Bruce took a step toward the two but stopped and shifted awkwardly on his feet as soon as the trembling woman screamed and tightened her hold on her toddler.

Bucky came to a halt, feeling sucker punched. He knew their faces. He'd seen them regularly in his sleep for the over forty years. He hadn't meant to bring them back. They'd been gone too long.

Banner looked at him. "Is this one of the people you mentioned in your letter?"

The letter? Bucky blinked. Shit. He'd forgotten about the letters. How did Bruce know what he'd written?

"Barnes?" Bruce prodded.

"Right." Bucky looked at the woman and the three-year-old girl. He knew their names and that the mother was someone Hydra had considered a threat.

He walked up to them, held his hands out at his sides and, in the softest, most reassuring voice he could muster, spoke to them in Russian. "Ne boysya. Nikto ne prichinit tebe vreda. Ty v bezopasnosti." Don't be afraid. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe.

The mother looked up at him, her brow furrowed with confusion for a second, then her expression melted to horror. She screamed, holding up one trembling hand as she shoved her daughter behind her. "Net, pozhaluysta, ya ostanovlyus'. YA unichtozhu vse, chto u menya yest' na Dmitrii. Pozhaluysta, otpusti nas. Ne delay bol'no moyemu rebenku." No. No, please, I'll stop. I'll destroy everything I have on Dmitry. Please, let us go. Don't hurt my baby.

Bucky took a step back. There it was—the thing he was used to—begging, pleading. She had begged him back then, just like this, wrapping herself around her daughter. He'd killed them both. He hadn't been wearing his mask back then, so she'd obviously recognized him immediately.

Bucky swallowed hard. He heard footsteps behind him.

"Who are they?" Steve whispered to him.

Bucky glanced briefly at Steve, trying to talk around the sudden lump in his throat. "Anya Petrov. Her daughter is Sophia." He looked away as he forced the words from his throat. "I assassinated them when I was the Winter Soldier. I didn't mean to bring them back. They died in 1979."

"I'll go get someone to help," Banner said, then quickly headed out of sight.

Bucky studied the shaking woman as she hugged her daughter. Sophia's scared brown eyes peered up at him, tears on her cheeks. Her chin quivered. Her small hands clutched at her mother's shirt.

Bucky backed further away. "YA ne prichinyu tebe vreda." I'm not going to hurt you. He looked at Steve. "I'm going to find Natasha." She spoke Russian and would probably have more success calming them. He was terrifying them. He had to get out of there.

"Right here." She moved past him, then crouched down in front of the woman and child and spoke softly to them in Russian.

"Are you okay?" Steve's firm hand came down on his shoulder, and he guided Bucky away.

They turned. A lone figure stood several yards away. His shoulders were hunched, and blood dripped down the side of his face, but the long hair, beard, and firearm made him unmistakable.

"Bucky." Steve moved forward, limping alongside as they approached the other super soldier.

They stopped a few feet away. Bucky looked at his counterpart from a year ago and recognized the emotions in his dark eyes.

The other man held his gaze. "What exactly have you done?"

"Made amends, the best I can." He paused for a moment. He knew what the other man was thinking because the thoughts were his own. "I didn't mean to bring them back after all these decades. I wouldn't want to do that to someone. Their faces just…"

The past Bucky took a breath, "…popped into your head?"

Bucky nodded. He eyed his past self. He remembered taking pretty much a direct hit from Thanos' ship. He'd been out of commission for a couple of days, so he knew his counterpart didn't have much left in his fuel tank. "You should take a load off. I remember what I felt like after this battle."

"I'll be fine." The tone was flat, almost suspicious.

"You took a big hit. You've got a fractured tibia, busted ribs, a five-inch gash in your right side, and a concussion." He took a step closer to his younger self in anticipation. "You won't die, but—"

When his wounded twin crumpled to his knees, the firearm dropping from his right arm, Bucky was there first, putting a hand on his chest to keep him upright. Steve was a close second behind, though he moved stiffly as he crouched beside both of them.

The wounded soldier groaned, then managed a self-deprecating smile up at them. "Okay, so, maybe 'fine' is a bit strong of a word, but I'll live."

The sound of a thruster gave the older Bucky notice of an incoming, and he rose to his feet as Sam dropped from the sky a few feet away. He smiled at the Falcon. "Nice of you to join the party, Sam."

Sam looked at him, confused, then down at the other Bucky. "What the hell is going on here?"

Suddenly there was a commotion, and they all turned to see 13 men, some dressed in dark flight gear, others in bright orange jackets, stumbling around, panicked, confused.

Bucky stared at the men, heat rising to his cheeks, stinging his eyes. There they were—all the men he'd killed on the helicarrier in 2014, men who'd given their lives to help Steve. A couple of the airmen spotted him, their faces shifting from confusion to sudden alertness. Two of them raised firearms at him.

Steve was instantly in front of him before Bucky could stop him, barking a quick order, "Stand down!"

They looked confused, but slowly lowered their guns. Steve's shoulders relaxed. "It's going to be quite the explanation, gentlemen." He nodded at Sam. "Can you show these guys to the tents?"

"On it," Sam said, giving Bucky another quizzical look.

Steve turned to the younger Bucky and crouched next to him. "Let's get you patched up, buddy."

-0- -0- -0-

After a very long night of explaining the impossible to a lot of confused people, tending injured, settling those who needed a crash pad into the tents, and arranging to get others where they needed to be, Bucky was relieved when Sam, Steve, and the others finally crashed themselves in the restored Avengers complex.

Dr. Strange and the other sorcerers had helped quite a few of the survivors get back home. RJ was back in Brooklyn already, and Bucky wished he could have seen that reunion. Even if it wasn't the Yori he knew, it was still Yori, and it made him happier than he could remember being in a long time to imagine the look on the older man's face when he saw his son.

Tony had located a younger sister for Anya in Saint Petersburg who was now 66 years old, and one of the sorcerers had opened a portal to take her and her daughter home. Bucky had kept his distance. His very presence terrified her, and it wasn't worth further traumatizing her to try to apologize or explain. She would have a huge adjustment, but at least she had family to help ease the transition.

Tony spent a good portion of the evening catching up with his parents and introducing them virtually to Morgan. Clint had spent two hours on the phone with his family. Bucky figured the arrow-wielding Avenger would be heading off to reunite with them as soon as he could.

The Wakandans had set up a few medical tents to help the injured and established a perimeter to keep reporters from harassing those recovering. From the outside, the simple tents looked like something out of WWII, but anyone who stepped inside was greeted to the most jaw-dropping technological display of medical prowess on the planet. His younger self was in one of those tents, getting patched up by Shuri and others. She'd shooed the Avengers out of her way, demanding they leave her to her work and get sleep so they would be of some use later. Those who were too seriously injured for the tent had been transported to Wakanda directly, thanks to the sorcerers. Others with more garden variety injuries were transported to local hospitals or released.

There were lots of happy reunions and lots of sad goodbyes. As exhausted as Bucky felt, he was too wired to sleep. He had no long-term plan. The Starks and Banner had already started working out the logistics of whether it was possible to send him back to his future timeline. That wasn't a timeline that held much in the way of promise for him, but it was where he belonged. Then there was the matter of Sam in that timeline, who'd once again broken the law to help him. Bucky wanted to return to make sure Sam didn't pay the price…again.

He told them none of what had happened in the future. It wasn't their problem, it was his, and there would be nothing they could do about it, anyway. If he was being truly honest with himself—something he rarely was, he knew—he also didn't want them to know what he'd done. Right now, the people around him smiled at him. They hugged him. They liked him. They saw him as Bucky Barnes, recovered former Winter Soldier, Steve's friend, guy who just helped save the universe.

He didn't want them to see him as the guy who helped break Zemo out of prison and got an innocent man killed. He didn't want to have to explain to them what he would be heading back to when he returned to his own timeline. He was riding a high of emotions he hadn't felt in a long time, and seeing disappointment or, worse, judgment on Steve's face was an image he didn't want to take with him into the Raft.

If they weren't able to figure out how to get him home, then he'd have no choice but to either stay where he was or find that happy little corner of time Sam suggested.

So, once everyone was asleep, he quietly made his exit to retrieve the time machine, tablet, and his few belongings. He settled up his bill with the motel front clerk, and then made his way back to the Avenger's complex to get the device to safety before heading off for a few more errands. As he stood in front of the restored building, the pack slung across his chest and the inactive time travel box in his left hand, he smiled.

He might spend the rest of his days in the Raft, but until then, he had time to celebrate making good on his amends and even enjoy life a little. It would likely be his only last real chance to do so, and he didn't want to waste that opportunity.

-0- -0- -0-

When Steve opened his eyes, he heard the soft sounds of music, barely perceptible through the door. The room was bright enough that he knew it was late in the day. His whole body ached. Shuri had patched him up a bit last night, but there were far greater wounded that needed tending—including Bucky.

Still, going head to fist with Thanos had really done a number on him. His head still ached, and, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he realized his left leg and ribs still had healing to do. He needed to go check on Bucky in the medical tent. He knew his friend would be okay because…

…Bucky's future self had saved the universe. The fog of fresh sleep cleared from Steve's head and he pushed himself to his feet, giving into a groan as his ribs and leg protested. He slipped on a white T-shirt and jeans and stretched his aching leg experimentally, then looked out his window.

Tents still peppered the grounds, along with dozens of media vans and reporters. He sighed. Now that they'd won the battle, they'd have a lot of hard work dealing with the aftermath.

There were two Bucky's he needed to check on. Chaos had reigned last night with so many moving parts between the injured and the resurrected that he hadn't had a lot of time to process the situation, much less have a sit-down with future Bucky about why he'd come back and what the hell they were going to do next.

Even with the uncertainty ahead of him, he smiled as he grabbed the Kimoyo comm bead from the top of the dresser and pocketed it, then headed to the door. He finally felt the stress and gloom of the past five years wash away. Bucky had saved the universe, and Steve couldn't have been prouder of his friend.

He pushed the door open, and the music became clear. He recognized the old tune immediately—Take the A Train by Duke Ellington. He followed it down the hall, around a corner, and into the kitchen. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Bucky was in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a black, short sleeved T-shirt, hovering over a hot stove and stirring a large pan of scrambled eggs while he swung his shoulders and hips to the music. Several plates rested on the kitchen island, each one piled with food. One held a large stack of pancakes, another bacon and sausage, and a third offered biscuits and muffins. Empty grocery and bakery bags rested on a neighboring counter. On the coffee table a few feet away from the kitchen sat a brown satchel and, next to that, a rectangular transparent box with a dimly glowing energy source inside.

As the music took a turn, so did Bucky, spinning in front of the stove and then grabbing the pan and dumping the eggs onto the only empty platter on the kitchen island, using the spatula in rhythm to the music to scrape the pan.

Bucky looked up at him and grinned. "I figured you'd be up soon. I didn't want this to get cold."

Steve's jaw was slack as he stared at his friend. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was looking at the Bucky he knew in 1943. "What…" He shook his head. "What is all this?"

"Breakfast!" Bucky smiled brightly, still swinging to the music. "Okay, more like lunch since it's after noon." He leaned forward with a conspiratorial look and lowered his voice. "But who says you can't have pancakes for lunch?"

"Where did you get all this?"

"Grocery store. With the blip, it was closed. I left Stark's name. Hopefully no one comes to arrest the other me for breaking in. That would be awkward. I did manage to find a bakery that was open and got us some fresh muffins. I figure everyone's earned a good meal, and I delivered quite a bit of food and bottled water to the tents." He smiled and spun as the music picked up tempo. "Do you remember this?" He gestured to the speakers in the ceiling. "I never could teach you how to swing dance. I certainly tried. You always tripped over the rock step trying to keep the beat." Bucky demonstrated a quick rock step and triple step, then spun around and turned off the stove as he set the pan back on the burner and tossed the spatula into the sink.

"I would pay to see that," Natasha's amused voice interrupted just as the song ended.

Sam and Clint arrived, Clint giving a stretch and a yawn as he surveyed the buffet and leaned against the counter. "What's all this?"

"Sit down," Bucky waved at the lounge area adjacent to the kitchen, complete with a small dining table, sofa, and chairs. "Take a load off. I'm the only one who didn't get pummeled by Thanos last night," he eyed Natasha. "Well, almost the only one, but you really took one for the team, so you get a day off, too."

The next song started overhead, and Bucky smiled. "Have you heard this one?" He eyed Steve. "Guy named Elvis. He's pretty good. Wasn't on your list, though." Bucky started dancing again as he grabbed plates and utensils and set them on the counter next to the food. "Man, music really took off in the 50s, huh? I missed it all because of, you know, Siberia—" He waved a hand in the air, "but I spent some time early this morning playing catch up." He spun around.

The Siberia comment stung for a moment, evoking an unpleasant image in Steve's brain that he'd tried to avoid focusing on ever since he realized Bucky was alive. The thought soon faded, however, as he watched his friend. He hadn't seen him so excited—so full of joy—since just before the war. This was the Bucky he knew, the one he really missed. This was the Bucky that made him laugh, looked out for him, and rolled with the punches. The one that, even when he was fighting off the bullies, rarely lost his temper and tended to treat them like a naughty younger brother needing guidance.

Steve looked around at his friends, and a warmth in his chest grew as he watched their reactions. It felt so damn good to have them see Bucky like this—the way he used to be before Hydra brutalized him. Natasha sat on the arm of the couch, a disbelieving smile on her face, as though she were trying to reconcile the Winter Soldier she'd encountered with the goofy guy dancing before her and working in the kitchen.

Clint leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head tilted, an amused smirk on his face. His eyes occasionally darted to Natasha, and he'd grin, then watch Bucky again.

Sam just stood behind the couch looking dumbfounded. When Steve caught his eye, the Falcon smiled and shook his head, then mouthed, 'Is he on something?' Steve shrugged and then shook his head. He was sure this Bucky wasn't high on anything—with the super soldier metabolism and healing abilities, neither of them could get drunk or high, at least not without much higher doses. Even then, it wouldn't last very long.

A mischievous grin broke on Bucky's face and he waggled his eyebrows at Steve, then abandoned his kitchen duties to dance an Elvis impression in the middle of the room.

When Elvis started singing, "Well, please don't ask me what'sa on my mind, I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine," Bucky waved a hand at his head, then gave Steve a cocky look and put his arms out to the side to indicate the appropriateness of the lyrics to his particular situation.

Steve couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Even Clint gave a short chuckle, and Natasha grinned, almost giving into a laugh. Sam just studied Bucky as if he thought the whole thing might be a dream.

As the song wound to an end, Steve propped himself on the other arm of the couch and asked, "Did you get any sleep last night, Bucky?"

Bucky shook his head, "Nope, too wired. Took care of some stuff," he pointed to the transparent rectangular box on the coffee table and then swept his arm out to the buffet on the counter, "and ran down the musical rabbit hole. FRIDAY was very helpful in catching me up." He raised his voice and glanced the ceiling. "FRIDAY, play that Swing Jive Bunny song you recommended." He looked back at Steve. "One song, lots of the 50s, and a little swing. You gotta hear it."

The fast-paced song started playing, "Come on, everybody! Come on everybody!" then immediately shifted into Glen Miller's In the Mood. Bucky immediately went into the swing moves that Steve had seen him do so often on the dance floor while trying to impress a date.

Bucky spun closer to him and started on the fancy footwork he had been so good at. "Did you ever learn how to do this? Come on, don't tell me you still can't dance," he teased, grinning.

Steve laughed and shook his head, heat rising to his cheeks as the other Avengers eyed him with amusement.

"Yeah, Steve, come on, show us some of those 40s moves," Natasha prodded.

"Uh, no." He replied. "This was all your thing, Bucky."

Bucky gave a disappointed shake of his head. "I can't believe you never learned."

"I can dance," Steve countered.

"No, no, no," Bucky shook his head as the song moved into Rock Around the Clock and changed his steps. "Swaying back and forth to slow music doesn't count as dancing, man. You barely move your feet."

Natasha threw a grin at Steve and cocked her head. "He's actually pretty good."

Steve noticed her foot tapping to the rhythm and held back a smile. "Yeah, he always was. It's one reason he never had a problem getting a date back in the day."

Bucky cocked his head and gave a wink. "Just one of many."

Natasha finally chuckled and leaned toward Steve. "Wow, he's really full of himself right now."

Clint grabbed a plate and started piling on some pancakes and eggs. "Yeah, the guy saves one little universe, and he thinks he's all that and a bag of chips."

"Ah!" Thor walked into the kitchen, "So we celebrate with food and dance! Splendid!"

"Tony saved the Universe, I just saved Tony," Bucky spoke up, then he tilted his head and glanced at Natasha, "and a few others."

She responded with a grateful nod.

Thor grabbed a plate and took the rest of the pancakes.

"There's another platter keeping warm in the oven, along with some more eggs," Bucky announced, giving a spin to the music.

When the mash-up returned to Glen Miller's In the Mood, Bucky engaged some fancy footwork toward Steve. "It's a damn shame you have two left feet, man. I did my best to make you presentable on the dance floor for…"

"Your dates' friends," Steve finished with an amused shake of his head. It felt good to be needled by Bucky and to see him so alive and happy, as if the past 80 years hadn't happened.

His friend's enthusiasm was contagious, and with a bashful smile, Steve got to his feet. During the last few seconds of the song, he moved next to Bucky and did the footwork alongside him. His ribs and leg protested a bit, but even with his fresh injuries, he realized he did a pretty great job and didn't trip over his feet once.

When the song ended, Bucky beamed at him and gave him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. "I knew you had it in you, man. It only took 80 years and the super soldier serum, but I knew you had in you."

Natasha clapped. Thor and Clint joined in.

"Now, we eat!" Thor proclaimed, taking his dish to the small dining table.

Steve knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help the giddiness. He realized they had a lot to talk about with Bucky-from-the-future, but there was no denying the man standing a few inches away was James Buchanan Barnes, and it looked like he was doing okay…more than okay, which was unexpected considering the solemn, agonizing contents of the letter.

He pushed thoughts of the letter aside and reached out to pull Bucky into a firm hug. He took few moments to indulge in having his friend back, feeling his heart beating and the breath moving in and out of his chest, before pulling back and giving him a long, solid look straight into his dark blue eyes.

Bucky's right hand came up and laid a good-natured open-handed shove on the side of Steve's face. "Go take a load off and eat, buddy. You look like road-kill."

"I will," Steve nodded and slid past Bucky.

He went to the oven and retrieved the extra platters of food, then piled an empty plate with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. As he made his way to the dining table, taking the last empty seat as he eyed Sam, Thor, and Clint, his eyes drifted to the window. He could see the tents scattered on the landscape. He needed to go check on the survivors, and see how the Bucky from his time was doing.

"He's okay," Bucky said, grabbing a piece of bacon from the platter and taking a bite. "I took a pretty big hit from Thanos' ship, but in a couple of days, I was…he will be almost as good as new."

Natasha made her plate and sat on the couch as Bucky moved into the kitchen to get some cups.

"Who wants coffee? Orange juice?"

"You're just a real Mary Poppins," Sam commented around a bite of food.

"Hey, like I said earlier," Bucky replied. "I'm the only one who didn't get a beat-down by Thanos and his army last night, so I figure the least I can do is make breakfast. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam, and don't talk while chewing." He flashed a sardonic smile at the Falcon.

"Dying and coming back counts as a beat down," Steve said.

Bucky shrugged. "But the time stone made me good as new. Thanks for ruining my whole dramatic self-sacrifice, by the way."

"Anytime," Steve replied, then shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Bucky scooped the mugs of four handles in one hand, then grabbed the coffee pot and brought it to the table, setting them all down in the center. "Since none of you ingrates answered me, you can help yourselves." He looked up at Natasha. "You?"

She waved him off. "I'll get some coffee in a bit."

Bucky nodded and made himself a plate, then poured a glass of orange juice and ate at the counter.

Steve sat in silent gratitude as his gaze wondered over the people in the room. There were a few moments last night when he'd almost given up hope of a victory. Then, Bucky had come along. From what the letter had said, last night almost ended tragically. This day had no doubt been more painful—having lost Tony and Natasha—and having to mourn them both while dealing with the aftermath of the reconstitution of half the universe's population.

He heard footsteps padding down the hall. A moment later, Wanda appeared. Her eyes went to the food, and she smiled softly. "Who made breakfast?"

Thor raised his coffee mug to Bucky. "The man from the future!" Then, he gulped the coffee and threw the mug onto the floor, grinning when it shattered into several small pieces. "Ah, it feels good to do that again."

"Thanks. You can just call me Bucky. We didn't get to chat much the first time around."

"Indeed, there was little time for conversation in Wakanda" The Asgardian nodded. "We owe you a great debt for your willingness to sacrifice your life. You are a brave man."

Bucky smiled, but Steve noticed he seemed suddenly uncomfortable. A bit of his earlier mirth had started to drain, but his eyes still had a joyful glint. "Uh…thanks."

Wanda grabbed a plate and looked across the counter at Bucky. "Good morning."

"Good afternoon," he replied.

She turned around, the plate of food in her hand. "Have any of you watched the news this morning?"

Steve shook his head. "No."

"Most of us just woke up," Sam added.

Wanda glanced up at the ceiling. "FRIDAY, play the news."

An almost invisible screen in the wall near the kitchen sprang to life. Chaotic images flashed one after the other on the screen—a mother hugging a child, a bald eagle soaring, cars swerving to avoid pedestrians who rematerialized out of thin air.

"The battle at the Avengers complex appears to have been ground zero for a new day with dramatic worldwide implications." The image of a female newscaster came on. "The sudden re-appearance of the The Vanished has brought the globe to a standstill. We're just now learning the implications of whatever events caused the phenomenon. The Earth appears to have gotten a new lease on life. Scientists measuring climate conditions have indicated that atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases have plummeted, effectively bringing about a reversal of climate change. Marine scientists have noted a complete removal of all plastics and trash in the planet's oceans. Mercury levels have also dropped dramatically. In short, the damage caused to the planet's air, water, and soil by human industrial activity has been abruptly and mysteriously reversed. States particularly impacted by climate change have already seen improvements. Rain graced several California communities early this morning, bringing much-needed relief to drought-stricken farmers and providing some hope that the changes to our climate will be long-lasting and ease the state's wildfire troubles."

Steve watched in awe as the images on the screen switched again to show rain covering California farmlands, a humpback whale breaching in ocean waters, and, finally, a shot of Icelandic glaciers. He tore his gaze away and looked at Bucky, then realized all other eyes were also on the man currently slouched over the counter munching on a piece of bacon.

Bucky swallowed and gave a sheepish glance around the room. "I guess it worked."

"Climate change?" Sam asked incredulously.

Bucky took a sip of his orange juice, then shrugged one shoulder. "I made a list in advance." He sighed. "The clean air and water probably won't last long, but we get a reprieve on climate change…at least for another century or so, right?"

Steve could hardly believe what he was seeing and hearing. It was like a dream. Not only had Bucky managed to destroy Thanos and his army, bring back Natasha and dozens of others, but he'd also somehow had time to reverse climate change and clean up the planet.

"What else did you do?" Wanda asked, but there was a note of sadness in her voice.

Steve recognized the grief behind her words. His heart ached for her. He understood the pain of that kind of loss.

Bucky apparently did, too, because he lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at her. "I'm sorry. He was on my list. I didn't have time before…"

She offered a soft smile. "It's okay. Thank you for trying."

Clint cleared his throat. "So, um, what else did you do?"

Bucky took a breath and straightened, then immediately slouched back against the kitchen sink. "I guess we'll have to see. Things I didn't get to were Vision, some of the others who died in Wakanda during the first battle…" his voice trailed off. "I couldn't hold out long enough."

Steve closed his eyes briefly, remembering how he's slipped the glove from Bucky's hand, hoping, somehow, that his friend hadn't been too far gone to save…even though he'd known it was futile. "I removed the gauntlet."

Bucky nodded. "I thought I felt it slip off." He gave a tiny smile, his eyes flickering to Steve. "I think I was pretty much gone, then, anyway. It wouldn't have made any difference."

"So, uh…" Natasha intruded hesitantly, "what's with the tents?"

Bucky sucked in a breath as if his mind were suddenly switching gears, then straightened and looked at her a moment. "I don't know." He started putting some of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "I didn't mean to that, or this," he waved at the room around him. He paused over the open dishwasher and looked at Steve again. "You remember the trek over Austria back to base camp?"

Steve nodded. It wasn't something he'd likely forget. It had been long, grueling, and dangerous. Bucky and the others had already been in rough shape after their imprisonment, but somehow, they'd made it…most of them.

"Well, my mind went there, you know, life flashing before my eyes, I guess. I remembered how amazing it felt to walk into the allied camp and have a soft place to land."

Steve knew exactly where Bucky's mind had gone. "So you knew we had injured and resurrected people who'd need a soft place to land, and you pictured the tents of the base camp?"

"It wasn't a conscious decision." Bucky put a couple of the pans into the open dishwasher. "Folks needed a place to recuperate, and I guess whatever went through my brain was enough to manifest all this." He waved another hand in the air, then took a shaky breath. "I just hope my messed-up brain didn't subconsciously manifest any unpleasant surprises."

Well, there was a thought, Steve pondered darkly. If that was the case, they'd deal with it when it came. As he watched Bucky load the dishwasher, he noticed the other man's movements getting slower, his shoulders slouching a bit more, and the mirth drifting from his face. Whatever natural high Bucky had been feeling was obviously beginning to give way to exhaustion.

"I have to go check on…well…the younger you." Steve rose to his feet, grimacing slightly at the painful tug in his ribs and the protest from his injured leg. "Why don't you let us finish the clean-up and you go get some rest?"

"Sure," Bucky replied, and his quick acquiescence was all the confirmation Steve needed that the other man was starting to hit the proverbial wall of exhaustion.

"Speaking of your younger self," Sam piped up from the table, "we gotta figure out what to call you. We can't be calling you Bucky and our Bucky Bucky."

Steve chuckled inwardly. It was getting awkward and confusing. As the news continued to play on the screen, Steve absently eyed the images of post-blip reality and thought how much like a dream all this sometimes felt.

"How about James?" Natasha offered.

Bucky shook his head quickly. "No. Too formal and it always makes me feel like I'm in trouble." He scrunched his face at Steve playfully. "Besides, it would be weird hearing you call me James."

Steve agreed. The name wouldn't feel comfortable coming off his tongue. "What then? We have to figure out different ways to refer to you two."

"Well, how about you call the younger me Buck and the older, wiser me, Bucky?"

Sam chuckled. "Because you're older, you get the longer name...Is that it?"

Bucky turned to look at Sam and threw him a sarcastic grin, then patted Steve on the shoulder. "I think I'll go take you up on that offer and get some rest."

Steve gave Bucky an approving nod just before he saw the older couple come through the door, their footsteps barely discernible over the noise from the television and the distant, muffled hum of activity from the reporters and tents outside.

When Bucky turned, he almost ran straight into Howard Stark. He jumped back, slamming so hard into the edge of the refrigerator's door that it caved a little from the force. Maria was directly behind Stark, and she flinched slightly at Bucky's reaction. The utter surprise from Bucky once again gave Steve a clue about how exhausted he must be. It wasn't easy to sneak up on the super soldier.

Bucky stood frozen, pinning himself against the refrigerator door, his eyes wide and almost, Steve thought…terrified? The silence from the other Avengers made the sound of the television suddenly seem louder.

"Sergeant Barnes." Howard nodded at Bucky.

Bucky stared at him but didn't say a word.

"Oh, hey, there," Tony limped in, his voice light and care-free even though he looked a little worse for the wear after last night, but his words were quick as usual. "Did we spring this on you?" He slid past Howard and slapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Good job with climate change and the oceans, by the way." Tony pointed to the newscast. "Anyway, my fault. Sorry. I should've given you a heads up that Mom and Dad wanted to see you."

Bucky looked at Tony as if he had grown a second head.

Steve didn't like the wild-eyed look of trepidation in Bucky's eyes and a sudden wave of protectiveness filled him. "Hey, Tony, maybe now's not the best time."

Howard walked up to Steve and gave him a grin. "Hey, Cap, it's damn good to see you." He looked him up and down, and then gave the room a once-over "Where's the shield?"

"Hello, Howard. It's good to see you, too. Thanos got the better of it, unfortunately."

"Damn, shame."

"It served me well."

Steve kept an eye on Bucky. The other man's gaze drifted from Tony, to Howard, and flicked almost furtively every few seconds to Maria. She stared at him, her right hand absently going to the pearls around her neck. Steve noticed the subtle way Bucky shifted to bring his vibranium arm behind his back, out of sight.

Howard turned back around to face Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, Tony brought us up to speed about what Hydra did to you, and the fact that Maria and I are here right now, alive, getting a chance to meet our granddaughter."

Bucky's brow furrowed in obvious confusion. Whatever he was expecting from the Starks, Steve guessed it hadn't been that. Slowly, Bucky's shoulders began to relax, but his eyes still revealed the depths of his discomfort.

"I'm sorry to hear what they did to you. Rogers was devastated after he came back from that mission. We all were." Howard extended a hand to him. "But I'm glad you survived, and I'd like to thank you. If things had happened differently, we never would have lived long enough to meet Morgan."

Bucky stared at the hand as if it might sprout fangs and bite him. After a few seconds, he looked over Howard's shoulder at Maria. She managed a somewhat shaky smile.

Slowly, Bucky extended his right hand and clasped Howard's, giving it a hesitant shake. "You don't need to thank me. I want to thank you…for flying Steve behind enemy lines. If you hadn't, none of us would have made it out." He swallowed hard, his eyes starting to glisten, and he shifted on his feet as he dropped his hand away from Howard. "I…I'm, uh…"

"No need to say anymore." The elder Stark smiled. "We're going to be working on a way to get you home, son. Banner and I have been at it most of the night while Tony got patched up by the Wakandans." He shook his head. "Their technology puts anything I ever dreamed up to shame."

Bucky simply offered a grateful nod.

"Okay, then, Sergeant." He looked at Steve again and smiled. "Cap. I'll leave you be for now. We have another video chat with our granddaughter. Maria's going to be leaving in a couple of hours to go meet her in person." He put a hand on his wife's shoulder, and they turned toward the door.

"Howard?"

Bucky's voice stopped the elder Stark, and he turned back to look at Bucky. "Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

"What…Um, Whatever happened to the flying cars?"

Howard looked confused, obviously taken aback by the question. "What?"

Bucky tilted his head. "1943, World Exposition of Tomorrow. You said a few years." A hint of a smile touched his lips. "It's been over 80, and we still don't have flying cars."

Howard laughed. "You were there?"

"Yes, sir…Last night before I shipped off."

The older Stark leaned in and slapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Military contracts and all that."

Tony was finishing off a piece of bacon when he interjected. "You want flying cars?" He snapped his fingers. "Done! I'll get you a flying car. Whatever you want. Anything you need," he walked up to his father and gave Bucky a light tap on the arm, "you just let me know."

Bucky seemed dumbfounded by Tony's offer. "I…I don't need a flying car…although…it would be useful in Brooklyn." He gave a tired smile. "Right now, I'll just settle for a few hours of sleep."

"You've earned it." Tony eyed the transparent box on the table, then veered off toward it, pointing at the object. "Is this what I think it is?"

Bucky nodded. "The time travel device. There's a platform that pairs with it that's downstairs. The tablet that operates it is in the pack."

"Got it." Tony eyed the spread of food. "You make all this?"

Bucky nodded again.

"Well, that explains the call I got from Bellaru Grocery this morning. Did you raid half the store?"

"I brought enough for everyone." He gestured toward the windows and the tents outside.

Tony nodded approvingly. "Good thinking. Thanks for this, too, by the way." He waved at the ceiling. "Would've taken forever to rebuild, not to mention costing a small fortune. You saved me hundreds of millions of dollars…I'm not sure insurance covers alien attack."

Steve smiled, understanding the subtext of Tony's comment regarding the price of the complex after Bucky's almost apologetic explanation for using slightly illegal methods for obtaining food and supplies and sending the bill to Stark.

Tony grabbed another piece of bacon. "FRIDAY, tell Banner and Rhodes to get up here if they want to eat." Tony popped the bacon in his mouth and reached down to pick up the transparent box. He held it up and studied it for a moment, then shrugged. "Here I thought I was super awesome cracking time travel, and it turns out, you can't throw a dime without hitting one." He looked at Barnes. "Where'd this come from?"

"Siberia….At the facility where I was kept."

"Didn't we destroy that?"

"We pretty much did, yes."

"Well, in all fairness, it was mostly me doing the destroying." He looked up at his mother and father and waved them off. "Dad, Mom, I'll catch up with you."

Steve noticed the hesitant glance Maria gave Bucky and could only imagine what she must be thinking. The fact that she hadn't said anything spoke more than any words could, and Steve hoped Tony was being sensitive to how overwhelming this must all be for his mother. Howard Stark had known him and Bucky back in the 40s, but she hadn't. She never signed up for any of the craziness that had come her way. Howard put a hand on her shoulder and, with a final look at Tony, Steve, and then Bucky, walked out with his wife.

"So, where's the food?" Banner asked as he arrived, glancing back down the hall at what Steve assumed was Howard and Maria.

James Rhodes was right behind him and followed the scientist into the kitchen. Steve immediately noticed Rhodes' legs. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but his legs were free, with no tell-tale blue lights indicating robotic braces beneath the fabric. Steve couldn't help but smile and be impressed by just how much Bucky had been able to accomplish during his brief time with the infinity stones.

Rhodes immediately spotted Bucky as Banner grabbed a plate and starting piling what remained of the food on it. The scientist made his way to the dining table and plopped in the seat Steve formerly occupied, saying a brief "hello" to Thor, Clint, and Sam. Wanda sank onto the sofa near Natasha.

"Hey, man," Rhodes walked casually up to Bucky and eyed him for a few seconds, then gestured at his legs. "I understand I have you to thank for this?"

Bucky gave a quick shake of his head, a humility in his eyes that Steve had always admired, even back in Brooklyn when his friend did his best to play it cocky. "You don't owe me any thanks." He clenched his jaw. "What happened to you was because of me. I just…fixed it."

"Nooooo," Rhodes said with exaggerated emphasis, "what happened to me was because of Tony." He shot an apologetic smile Tony's way, but Stark seemed to take the comment well, waving a hand and nodding.

Rhodes looked at Steve, holding his gaze for a few seconds. Steve recognized the apology behind the look. A lot had happened over the past couple of years. With Thanos, they hadn't really had a chance to officially patch things up.

"And me, actually," Rhodes turned his attention back to Bucky. "Look, the Accords screwed things up. Turns out, Rogers was right about Siberia, Vienna, and you. We had one grainy, crappy photo to go on and no hard evidence, and we didn't want to listen to what Rogers was trying to tell us. Security was an embarrassment because Zemo gained access to you with almost nothing more than a stolen security badge." He sighed and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm sorry. If we'd stopped to listen, things might have turned out differently."

"OBVIOUSLY!" Tony interjected. "We wouldn't have walked into Zemo's trap so blindly, and maybe I wouldn't have tried to kill you. Maybe." Tony walked up to Bucky and stopped in front of him. "I owe you an apology, too, you know, for trying to kill you, and for the arm." He waved at Bucky's vibranium one.

Bucky shook his head. "Zemo has a way of knowing what buttons to push on people."

Tony continued. "Doesn't matter. Let's be honest. I tried to murder you. A good old-fashioned assassination. I knew you weren't to blame. I'm a smart guy, right? I knew it, but I didn't care. I wanted revenge, and I would've killed you. I almost killed Cap," he threw a quick gesture Steve's way. "I wasn't trying to kill him, of course, but I certainly did a number on him. I didn't listen to him. He…" Tony's voice broke for a second, and he looked away, his eyes momentarily going to the news screen, but not focusing on it. "He practically begged me to stop, and I didn't listen. I would have killed you right in front of him."

Steve's injured leg suddenly felt weak, and he dropped onto the arm of the sofa. He noticed the sympathetic look from Natasha, but suddenly he was back in the bunker, kneeling in front of Bucky, looking up at Stark and pleading with him.

'He's my friend.'

'So was I.'

"And, well, turns out, I was wrong. I was not only wrong, I was…" Tony shook his head. "I had some time in the Bunker, did a bit of recon, digging into what was left of their files. I saw some of what they did to you—"

Steve noticed the sudden shift in Bucky's expression. What had Tony seen? Why had he never reached out to Steve about it after Berlin? Steve rose to his feet, feeling something had just taken a very wrong turn.

"—It gave me nightmares, to be frank, but it also made me understand in a way I couldn't ever before just how little choice you had in anything. You were a victim, and I was just another guy adding to—"

Bucky took a few steps backward toward the counter. "What did you see?"

Tony stopped talking and looked at Bucky. Steve rose to his feet closer. Whatever humility or mirth had been on Bucky's face earlier was gone, replaced by something dark and wounded. Tony seemed to notice the change, too, because he suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Rhodes must have, too, because he eyed Tony and said, "Um, I'm going to check on the reporters and tents outside," and made a quiet, hasty exit.

Everyone else in the room had grown silent. Only the sound of the television filled the room for several seconds.

Tony cleared his throat and glanced down at the floor for a moment, looking uncharacteristically hesitant before he looked back up at Bucky. "Some garden variety stuff. It was all very old footage, nothing recent, but…" He took a deep breath. "A few minutes of a medical diary on the surgery to attach the arm from the 40s, one of your first sessions in…the chair they used to," Tony waved a hand toward his head, then paused and took another breath, this time slow and deep. He held the silence for a few seconds, before continuing. "And one from 1949…the young woman, in the hospital gown, that they wanted you to…"

Bucky reached his left hand out to the kitchen island as if to steady himself. Muscles in his jaw clenched.

"I didn't know what I was going to see," Tony explained. "I was just gathering information."

The edge of the countertop broke under Bucky's grip, the granite crumbling. Bucky glanced down at the damage, and kept his gaze lowered. His voice matched in volume. "You…shouldn't have…"

Steve couldn't hold back any longer. "What footage?" He took a few steps toward Stark.

Bucky's head snapped up. "No. No you aren't seeing it. No one has a right to watch that kind of thing done to another human being against her—" He gulped a breath, "—our consent." Bucky opened his hand and the granite chunks clattered to the floor. His chest heaved in quick, shallow bursts.

Steve started toward Bucky, but Tony was closer and moved quickly to Bucky's side.

"Hey, hey," Tony placed a tentative hand on Bucky's arm. "I know what this is. I've been there. Sit for a moment."

Bucky pulled away from Stark, then moved wordlessly to the armchair and plopped himself down. He leaned forward, taking in a few deep gulps of air, and ran his fingers through his short hair, his right hand trembling.

Natasha spoke in a low voice as she leaned toward Bucky. "If it's what I think it is, it's a horrific but effective tactic they use. You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for."

Bucky dropped his arms, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. He stared at Stark, his gaze almost accusatory. "Who else saw it?"

Tony crossed his arms uncomfortably in front of him. "Secretary Ross. I'm not sure who else."

Bucky closed his eyes. His jaw twitched.

"Look, say the word, and I'll get into their servers and make sure every copy I can find is destroyed," Tony promised.

"The word." Bucky said, opening his eyes to look directly at Stark.

Tony's gaze was firm and his voice low and serious when he answered. "Consider it done."

Bucky gave a clipped nod, then launched himself out of the chair and headed back into the kitchen. He opened a lower cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and twisted off the cap.

Steve eyed Sam and the others quickly, catching the concern in their eyes. Clint watched Bucky particularly closely, a distant, knowing pain behind his blue eyes.

Steve wished he knew of a way to help his friend, but how could anything reverse 80 years of Hydra brutality? "You can't get drunk. Believe me, I tried after you fell from the train."

Bucky raised the bottle in the air and gave Steve a dark look. "Maybe you just didn't try hard enough, man." Then he tilted the bottle and drained half of it in a few seconds before lowering it and taking it with him as he sank back into the armchair. He quickly downed another long drink, then looked at Stark. "You said anything I need?" He tilted the bottle toward him, then set it down on edge of the coffee table. "I haven't gotten drunk since 1943. How about something a whole lot stronger?"

Tony nodded. "I used to have a bottle of 192 proof Spirytus Vodka around here somewhere. If it's still here, it's yours. FRIDAY, get more of it here by the end of the day."

"Procuring it now," came the feminine, Irish voice.

Steve sank onto the end of the sofa near Bucky and gave Tony a reproachful look. "This won't help.

Bucky tilted his head back against the chair and gazed up at the ceiling but didn't reply.

Steve brushed a hand over his face. Whatever footage Tony had seen must have been bad. It was one thing to know, on an intellectual level, that Hydra tortured and brutalized Bucky, but actually seeing it… He tried not to think about what Tony might have seen, but he couldn't help but wonder which was worse, his imagination or the reality?

Steve rose to his feet and walked to the window, peering down at the tents. The Bucky from his timeline was down there, facing the same demons and doing a bang-up job of putting on a stoic face. Things had all happened so fast, that he hadn't had the chance to spend any real one-on-one time with his old friend. After all these decades… he'd found out Bucky was alive, and it had all just been one fight after another

He really needed to go check on the younger Buck, but he wanted to keep an eye on the older Bucky before he decided to work his way through another bottle of liquor. Steve withdrew the Kimoyo bead, flicked a finger over it, and placed it face-up in his palm like Shuri had shown him. A holographic image sprang to life. He saw Shuri from the side, and she glanced up at him as she continued working on something off hologram.

"Hello, Captain Rogers," she greeted with a quick nod. "Perhaps you can convince him to stay put a little longer?"

"How is he?"

"Irritating." She smiled at someone off hologram.

Steve smiled. "Can I talk to him?"

The image flickered for a moment, and then Buck's bearded face emerged.

"Hey, Steve, what's going on with….you know?"

Steve wasn't quite sure how to answer that question given how the morning was going, especially since the older Bucky was within earshot. Things had started off so well, but he wasn't sure where Bucky's head was at the moment. "It's been interesting. Banner and the Starks are trying to figure out a way to get him back to his timeline. How are you doing?"

Buck offered a slight smile. "Better. I don't need to be here. I was just about to head up."

Steve wasn't sure that was a good idea, but he needed to see Buck in person, and have a private chat with Shuri. "Stay. I'm heading down in a few minutes." He closed his fist around the bead and stuffed it back into his pocket.

He glanced back at the group and noticed that everyone was trying their best to appear preoccupied with something else. Clint, Banner, and Steve were engaged in conversation at the dining table. Tony was leaning against the counter, intently studying the time travel device in his hand, as if, by staring at it, he could unlock its secrets. Natasha and Wanda were conversing quietly on the couch. The news continued to play in the background, and Steve saw an external shot of the Avenger's compound with the tents and a "LIVE" notation at the bottom of the screen.

Bucky was still on the couch, his gaze remaining fixed on the ceiling, but his chest rose and fell at a slow, steady pace. Steve hoped that meant Bucky was finally surrendering to sleep—even if partly induced by the copious amounts of whiskey he'd downed.

Steve walked up to Tony, making sure to keep his next words low, hoping the sound of the television would mask them. "How bad was it?"

Tony's gaze flickered away. "Bad." He paused for a long moment, eyeing Bucky and then finally looking back at Steve.

Steve heard Natasha's footsteps, and she stopped alongside him. "Some subjects can be particularly difficult to condition. I assume the serum made Bucky's brain more resistant to the traditional methods and the electrostimulation, which is why they kept having to do it. Just a guess. But there's a technique to eliminate a subject's barriers to killing on command." She looked at Tony.

Stark nodded.

"What technique?" Steve knew Stark was holding back out of deference to Bucky, and the remarkableness of that sudden loyalty wasn't lost on Steve, but Bucky's life was on the line. In less than a year, it looked like his friend's demons would catch up to him enough to drive him to a suicide mission.

He had to stop that from happening, and the only way he knew to do that was to know what he was dealing with. "I need to know. He came here to die, and that means that the Buck from our time needs help, or in less than a year, we might lose him."

Stark took a deep breath. "They…Look, I'll give you the gist, but if you want the dirty details, you'll have to get it from him, and I'm only telling you this so you can help him. You're the only one whose really been able to so far, outside of the Wakandans, and I'm sorry I didn't make it easy for you."

Steve shook his head. It was time they put the past two years behind him.

Tony took another breath and continued, his words hurried, as though that were the only way he could get through them—like ripping off a band aid. "He was in a room, his metal arm and legs restrained, and they took serious measures on that arm. It wasn't the one he had in 2014. It must have been the initial model. They brought in a girl and told him to kill her. He refused. They tortured her in front of him, did a number on him, too, and he fought hard, believe that about your friend. He fought. Hell, he even took the gun and turned it on himself at one point, but they'd made provisions for that, too."

Steve grabbed the edge of the counter with that revelation. Bucky had tried to end his life before, but Hydra hadn't let him. Steve tried to reconcile the fact that he was glad Hydra kept Bucky from ending his own life, even knowing the decades of misery he'd experience afterward. Death would have been a blessing, but then Bucky would've died without having a chance at a real life. At least now, if they could help him, Bucky might have a shot at a normal life.

Finally…" Tony's breath caught in his chest. It was obvious that the memory was almost too much for him. "Well, he put her out of her misery. By that time, they'd worked him over so much that I think they almost lost him. A doctor shot him up with something. When he came to, he was…crazed…." Tony shook his head, his gaze going to Bucky, who appeared to be asleep in the chair. "The restraints didn't budge, but his shoulder did. He ripped the arm off to break free."

Jesus. Steve closed his eyes at that gruesome image.

"Before he bled out," Tony added, "He managed to kill the lead guy. Obviously, they saved him. From the damage, I assume that's why the replacement arm is attached so far into the side of his chest.

Steve tried to quell the anger that rose in him. They'd had to carve out torn flesh to attach a new arm.

He felt Natasha's hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Steve. The depths of their brutality sometimes still astonishes me. What they did, they did to condition him to kill on command. If they followed the protocol, then she wasn't the first. They did it over and over again, bringing in dissidents and enemies that they needed to get rid of, until he realized that, by resisting, he was only condemning them to a longer, more painful death. At that point, he'd kill whoever they put in front of him on the first command, and eventually, without hesitation. That would have been the first successful stage of the conditioning."

"And that was in 1949," Steve whispered, feeling gut punched. Hydra had captured Bucky in 1944. "It took them five years to get to that point. What did they do him before that?"

"Don't go down that rabbit hole, Steve," Natasha warned, giving his arm a squeeze. "Believe me. No good comes from it."

A muted grunt and the rustle of fabric yanked Steve's attention back to Bucky. He was sitting upright in the chair. Wanda was closest to him, a startled look on her face that instantly faded to sympathy.

Steve was there in an instant, dropping down on the empty couch cushion. "You okay?"

Bucky eyed him furtively and nodded once. His gaze darted around the room. All three men at the table had noticed and were staring unabashedly, but when his gaze met theirs, they suddenly became engrossed in conversation.

Smooth, guys, Steve berated silently, then looked back at Bucky. Bags puffed beneath his red-rimmed eyes. The alcohol and fatigue had obviously made an impact. He needed rest—solid rest. "Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Bucky sighed and relaxed into the chair. "That's not going to happen for some time, I'm pretty sure." He sounded drained.

Steve was torn. He really needed to talk to Shuri and check on the Buck from his timeline on the grounds below, but he hated to leave the older Bucky. All he needed was five minutes.

"Can you hang out here for a few minutes?" He asked Bucky.

Bucky gave an insulted grimace and nodded. "What the hell? Yeah. Get out of here and do what you need to."

Steve smiled at that reaction. "I'm going to head down to check on things and see how the other you is doing," Steve announced, getting to his feet again and catching Tony's eye.

He trusted all his friends to keep an eye out for the wayward time traveler, but in light of recent events, Steve figured Tony was particularly motivated. The Iron Man gave him an affirming nod, and Steve hurried out of the room.

-0- -0- -0-

Shuri smiled at Yama as the Dora Milaje hopped off the recovery table. "Good as new, see?"

Yama nodded at her and, without another word, grabbed the vibranium spear and slipped out of the tent.

Buck sat on the edge of his recovery table and tried not to seem impatient. Although his leg and side still ached, he was feeling good enough to leave and find a shower and a change of clothes. With everything that had happened, he hadn't had a chance to process recent events. He wasn't sure he could process them in any way that would make sense. If he thought too hard about any of it, his already refurbished mind might meltdown beyond repair.

In Wakanda, for a brief moment, he thought he could finally put war behind him. When he first came out of cryo, everything in Wakanda had been so overwhelming—from the technology that seemed more like magic to the nightmares, flashbacks, and excruciating reconstruction of a mind he wasn't even sure would be worth anything in the end.

Yet, he'd received more kindness in Wakanda than he ever had before. Shuri had known what he needed, even when he hadn't—a peaceful plot of land away from the overwhelming. No technology. No wars. No weapons. No missions. Just land, air, soil, animals, and water.

Then, T'Challa presented him with a vibranium arm and told him the fight was coming. The next thing he knew he was staring down an enormous alien armada and fighting alongside a talking raccoon.

Aliens. From outer space.

And they weren't in flying saucers or from Mars. They were from much farther away and they were like nothing he could have ever imagined. That was the second time he'd found himself fighting a war that he lost.

At least this time, they won the battle—thanks to his future self. That fact was yet one more entry in the book of bizarre he had yet to process. On top of everything, he wasn't even sure whether he was still a wanted man.

Suddenly, the tent flap parted and an instantly recognizable figure in jeans and a white T-shirt entered. In a world that was new, strange, and almost incomprehensible, the comfort provided by the deep familiarity of the man walking up to him was almost painful in its intensity.

"Hey, Steve."

Steve broke into a wide grin and walked up to him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "How're you doing, Buck?"

"About as good as can be expected, considering the end of the world just came and went." He softened his words with a crooked smile. "How's the other…uh, me?"

"About as good as can be expected considering," Steve parroted back, then turned and looked at Shuri, who was hovering in front of a holographic display that appeared to be the inside of another tent, with a patient on a recovery table and a man in a white lab coat standing over him.

Shuri glanced at him as she ended the holographic display. "Hello, Captain Rogers."

"Thank you for all this," Steve waved a hand around. "You and the other Wakandan medical personnel have made the difference between life and death for a lot of wounded."

She bowed her head slightly. "The war may have been won, but many still battle for their lives. It is our duty to do everything we can to ensure they do not lose."

"We're all grateful. How is he?" Steve jerked a chin in his direction.

Buck raised his eyebrows at being talked about like he wasn't in the room.

"His physical wounds will heal completely."

Buck hopped off the table, making a determined effort not to wince at the pain that shot up his tibia. "Can I get out of here now?"

"In a moment," Steve gave him a firm look.

"You may be a Captain, Steve, but I'm not in the army, anymore." He was beginning to wonder why everyone was so determined to keep him in a tent. "Is there something you don't want me to find out about my future self? What? Am I a basket case, or an asshole, or something?"

Steve smiled and turned to face him. "I'm not trying to keep you from meeting yourself." He grimaced at the obvious awkwardness of that sentence. "I just need a moment with Shuri, then we'll go up together."

Buck nodded as Steve caught Shuri's eye again and headed toward the tent flap. She gave Buck a look that he interpreted as a command to stay put and then followed Steve outside.

-0- -0- -0-

Steve eyed the line of media vans about 100 yards away, held back by the force field perimeter erected by the Wakandans. Dr. Strange's sorcerer friends had proven extremely useful in helping Shuri and the others travel back and forth between New York and Wakanda in mere seconds.

Speaking of which, Steve wondered where Dr. Strange had taken off to. He hadn't seen the man since last night and hadn't properly been able to thank him for saving Bucky's life. He made a mental note to try to get a message to him later.

For now, he turned his attention to Shuri. "We didn't have time to talk before…with Vision," the name caught in his throat. If he hadn't pulled that gauntlet off Bucky's hand….

She offered him a sympathetic nod.

"Anyway," he continued, "I wanted to thank you for helping Bucky and giving him sanctuary the past two years."

"It is a debt my brother owed, and the right thing to do."

"Well, thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I'm not sure he'd still be alive." He studied her dark, inquisitive eyes and saw understanding behind them. "How is he? Really?"

"The Winter Soldier programming has been removed. The code words no longer hold any power over him."

"How did you accomplish that?"

"I developed an algorithm to remove the influence of the trigger words."

"What about the trauma he's experienced?" Steve hoped she could find a way to help Bucky recovery more fully.

"The last thing I wanted to do is to remove all of who James Barnes is and was by trying to remove the past 80 years of his memories with Hydra." She glanced back at the tent. "I attempted to root out the memories that yielded the greatest emotional trauma, but when the mind experiences trauma, it often seeks solace in more pleasant memories of the past, forming a connection between those neural pathways. By attempting to eradicate those traumatic memories, I could have destroyed the others. I could also inadvertently have destroyed who is is—his personality, quirks, loves, and dislikes. In essence, I could have destroyed James Barnes, and the man left in his place would be someone else. That was a conversation I had with him, and he chose not to risk losing his memories of his family, and of you." She cocked her head at him. "Has something happened?"

He took in the information she provided and tried to fathom all that she and Bucky had worked through over the past two years. He wished he could've been there for his friend. As he pondered her question, he thought about how much to reveal. If anyone could help Bucky, it was her, but what he'd found out was so deeply private. Did she know? Had Bucky ever told her?

"The Bucky from the future came here on a suicide mission."

Shock touched her eyes, and her face looked suddenly sad. "I had not heard the details, but I knew that he had traveled here from the future, obtained the gauntlet, and saved the universe. However, we have all been willing to sacrifice our lives for the greater good. Do you believe there was more behind his sacrifice than that?"

Steve shook his head. He didn't know for sure, but the letter Bucky had written him certainly gave him a glimpse into the dark nature of his friend's inner turmoil. 'I should have died a long time ago. I don't belong here. The world doesn't know what to do with me, and I don't know what to do with myself.'

Those words still made something go tight in his chest. "I don't know. He wrote me a letter, and I think he feels like he doesn't have a place here. It sounded to me like he found solace in death."

"He is tired of war." Shuri's voice sounded sad. "It was unfortunate that we could not provide him a longer reprieve from it."

Steve nodded. Thanos had made that impossible. He suddenly remembered Bucky's words back in Bucharest, and they made more sense now than they had at the time.

'It always ends in a fight.'

The words had been said with a resigned hopelessness that, at the time, with German special forces closing in, Steve hadn't had the luxury to truly ponder.

"Is there anything you can do to help both Buckys?"

She nodded. "Perhaps, when I have a moment, I will reach out to you, and we can talk more."

"Thank you. I don't want to leave him too long. Is there anything you need from us?"

She shook her head. "As I told you earlier, we have all that we need. If Stark needs any help figuring out how to get the future James Barnes to his own timeline, I can make time to assist. Otherwise," she flashed a cocky look up at him, "leave me to my work."

Stay out of your way. Message received. Steve smiled at her. For someone so young, she sure had a commanding presence. "I'll get the other Buck out of your hair."

"Just make sure he does not overexert himself. We have mostly healed his wounds, but even with our technology and his enhanced healing abilities, the regenerated tissue needs time to stabilize, and his body needs rest."

"Will do." Steve ducked back into the tent and saw Bucky leaning against the recovery table, eyeing him expectantly.

"Well, can I get out of here now, or am I going to have to try to stage a jail break from Shuri?" Bucky asked.

Steve smiled and jerked his head toward the tent flap. "I just made your bail."

Steve saw something flicker over Bucky's face at that joke, but he couldn't quite pin it down before it gave way to a firm nod and what looked like a forced smile from the other man.

"'Bout time," Bucky said, walking up to him and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Let's go, pal." Steve headed out of the tent with Bucky close behind. He noticed the slight limp, but opted to keep that observation to himself for the time being.

As they headed into the complex and upstairs, Steve tried to keep the anxiety he felt from showing in his posture and his expression. He had some trepidation giving his Buck yet one more thing to have to deal with—and coming face-to-face with one's future self was definitely enough to throw anyone for a loop.

As they made their way into the kitchen, Steve instantly surveyed the scene. Bucky was still slouched in the chair. He held had a cell phone in his hand and was scrolling through something. Wanda was on the couch watching the news play on the screen. Tony was pacing near the window, talking to someone though his comm piece. From the context, Steve guessed it was a reporter or a politician trying to get more details about what the hell had happened yesterday and working out some hasty logistics about next steps.

Natasha was now at the dining table, chatting softly with Clint, Thor, and Bruce. Steve wondered when Clint would be taking off to reunite with his family. He was slightly surprised to wake up and find him still hanging around, but knowing Clint as he did, he figured the man's sense of obligation drove him to stick around and see them through the thick of the aftermath.

Then, of course, there was Natasha. Clint had watched her die. Steve could only imagine what kind of hell that had been.

Buck walked into the room behind him, and Steve shifted so that he could keep an eye on both Buckys. The younger Buck's eyes immediately scanned the room, darting from Thor and hovering a moment over Bruce's large green figure before quickly darting to Tony.

Steve saw the uncertainty behind his friend's gaze and remembered that this Buck hadn't been around for the heart-to-heart between Tony and the future Bucky.

Finally, Buck's gaze drifted to his slightly older counterpart.

Bucky was already looking up at him, the cell phone resting on his lap. The two men stared at one another for a few seconds, then Buck pointed to the empty bottle of whiskey on the table.

"So, we're drinking hard liquor in the middle of the day now?" Buck said.

Bucky's expression remained flat. "Well, when I left my time, it was just after midnight, and I arrived around noon, which makes it…" his eyes rolled upward for a second as he apparently did the calculation, "somewhere around, well, midnight again my time, I think, and that's factoring in the time difference between New York and Louisiana."

"You were in Louisiana?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm married to your sister now," Bucky said.

Steve hadn't expected that bit of news, and neither had the younger Buck given the expression of stunned disbelief on his face.

"What?" Sam shot out of his seat.

Bucky cocked his head over at Sam. "Relax, man, I'm just messing with you."

Sam jabbed a finger at Bucky and sank back to his chair. "Not funny."

"It kind of was," Bucky retorted, but the words were filled with more exhaustion than mirth.

The younger Buck drifted over to the table. He cocked his head and seemed to study Banner and Thor.

"Uh, so, you're Thor, right?"

Thor nodded. "Indeed."

"As in the God of Thunder?"

Thor gave a smile. "You are correct."

Buck shook his head as if trying to process that information, then he looked at Banner Hulk. "And you're, Doctor Banner?"

"Yes, we met only briefly, I know."

"You looked different."

"Yeah." Banner shrugged.

Buck studied him a moment longer, confusion evident on his face. "Are you also an alien?"

Clint gave a chuckle, but Banner seemed taken aback. "Uh, no, but…I can see how you might jump to that conclusion there."

Steve realized only then that Bucky hadn't actually had a full introduction to all the Avengers. He'd met Bruce in his normal human form only briefly when they'd arrived in Wakanda, and then Thanos' ship had arrived and everything went to hell. He hadn't even been formally introduced to Thor, who'd just arrived in the middle of the fight.

Then, Bucky had vanished with the half the universe, and he'd only been resurrected a few hours ago – and then once again put into the middle of the most epic battle the universe had ever seen.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Steve walked up to him. "I forgot that all of this is pretty new to you."

Buck gave him an almost shy smile. "Well, I know most of the people here…either by trying to kill them or from Berlin, so, yeah, it's a bit awkward." He took a breath, and Steve suddenly felt like an ass. So much had happened. It had been five years, but for Bucky, it had been mere hours. He'd been asked to fight, come face to face with the dead body of his future self, watched himself be resurrected, then shoved into a medical tent and been left to ponder what the hell had all just happened.

"You could say that. I mean, aliens? A talking racoon. That tree…creature? Meeting my future self. It's been…a lot... Actually," Buck paused suddenly, looking even more uncertain, "now that I say it out loud, I think this might all actually be a dream. That would make a lot more sense. I'm probably unconscious in a lab in either Wakanda or…Russia even? Maybe this has all been one very vivid hallucination or dream."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Bucky muttered, lifting his head to look at his counterpart. "It's not. I've thought that many times, but it just keeps going, and we don't dream in cryo."

The younger Buck looked solemnly at his Bucky. "It is definitely a dream." He nodded decisively then shook his head as if it had been obvious the whole time. "I mean, I'm here talking to my future self, in a room with a big green guy and Thor the God of Thunder—"

"Indeed!" Thor slammed a fist on the table.

"-after just fighting alongside a talking racoon and alien tree with death branch arms. Also, my future self brought back a lot of people I've killed in recent history using a magic glove, so yeah, it's a dream."

Bucky actually chuckled and tilted his head back once again in a display of resignation. "Okaaay, since you put it like that, maybe it is a dream. Who knows, maybe I'm still captured by the Germans, battling pneumonia, in Zola's lab, and the past 80 years have just been one very long fever-induced dream or hallucination."

"Exactly," Buck agreed. "I thought that the first time I saw Steve in his new body. Maybe that was a dream, and it just never ended. I mean, come on, Steve who should be in Brooklyn, suddenly looks very different and somehow made his way behind enemy lines and rescues me and the other guys, all by himself, from the Germans, then Schmidt lifts his face off to reveal a red skull. That's objectively dream material."

Steve watched the two men bicker about the fabric of reality and thought it best to put an end to the no-win argument. "It's not a dream."

"Bullet-proof argument there, Cap," Tony clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Dreams sometime tell you that," Bucky said.

"Exactly," younger Buck agreed.

Tony walked up to Buck casually, his right hand suddenly enveloped in an Iron Man glove, and zapped the former Winter Soldier in the right side. Buck jumped with a quick grunt, clutching his right side exactly where the shrapnel had sliced into him and giving Tony a disbelieving look.

"Not a dream," Tony declared, "though your logic is undeniably sound."

"Tell me about it," Bruce chimed up from the table. "I'm almost convinced now that this might be a dream.

Tony shrugged. "Dream or not, you kind of have to go with what's happening as if it were actually happening."

Well, there's a valid point, Steve thought, hoping the two Buckys saw it that way, as well, so they could move on from the 'is it or isn't it a dream' debate.

Thor rose from the table. "Thank you for the meal, Bucky from the future." Thor looked at Steve. "I must take my leave from you now. I have another matter to attend to, but I will return to bid you all a final farewell."

Steve nodded and watched Thor leave, then turned his attention back to Buck, who was staring uncertainly at Tony, his lips pursed. Buck looked hesitantly over at Steve. "Dream or not, I'm just wondering…. Am I…under arrest?"

Shit. Steve hadn't even thought much about that. He and the other Avengers had been on the run for two years, and Buck was given sanctuary in Wakanda. But now that the war was over and Buck was no longer in Wakanda…

"No," the older Bucky piped up, tilting his head back once again to look up at some indefinite point on the ceiling. "Not, yet, anyway."

Not yet? Steve caught the dismayed look Tony threw his way.

"But once the dust settles," Bucky seemed to wince at the dark appropriateness of that phrase, "yeah. Then there'll be judges, court-appointed lawyers, media, a few protests, a conditional pardon, and court-mandated therapy to reassure people you won't go-" he raised a fist in the air, "—you know. That is, if it all happens roughly the same way it did before."

"Shit." Sam muttered from the table. "I haven't even had time to think about any that. I wonder if that goes for us, too?"

"Oh, you're all heroes," Bucky waved a hand in the air. "Untouchable, at least for a while."

"So are you," Sam countered.

"Not exactly." Bucky closed his eyes, his words soft.

Steve wondered if his friend was finally going to give in to sleep as he tried to imagine what life had been like for Bucky after the battle. From the letter, it sounded like he had gone through that alone, for the most part, and that didn't sit well in his gut.

"Bullshit." Tony walked up to Buck and Steve and shook his head. "Everyone in this room took part in saving the universe, so screw them, and you really took one for the team," Tony threw a glance at Bucky's half-conscious form, then turned that gaze to Buck. "Friday, get the lawyers on it, will you?"

"Engaging counsel now. Also, the vodka has been procured and is sitting in the lobby."

"So," Clint began from the table, "what're the next steps in all of this?"

That was a very good question, and one Steve had been on and off pondering all morning. "The Wakandans are taking the lead on the medical front and working with Strange's group ferrying people across the globe. That's leaves us to deal with the media and the political fall-out. There are a lot of confused, frightened people out there who need answers."

"Yep, and I've been on the phone with several of them already, not to mention trying to figure out our time travel dilemma." He pointed to Bucky, who now appeared to be asleep.

Steve hoped that was true. He had no idea when Bucky had gotten sleep before his trip through time, but as the hours wore on through the day, it was obvious he was draining the tank. As if the other man could sense his thoughts, Bucky's brow furrowed and a tiny whisper of something that sounded Russian escaped his lips.

Buck sighed and propped himself on a bar stool near the counter. "Well, damn."

"What is it?" Steve asked.

Buck gave him a sad look. "I'd hoped after time the nightmares would fade. I know what he's dreaming about. It's a bad one, and it's about to get worse."

Wanda pushed herself off the couch and moved behind Bucky. She eyed Buck and then Steve, her eyes seeking permission. "I can help him. All I need is a good memory."

Steve hesitated a moment. He'd seen first-hand how effectively Wanda could plant memories and images into a person's head, and they would seem very real. He knew Bucky desperately needed sleep. Exhaustion was evident in every line on his face and muscle in his body. As he lay sleeping in the chair, Bucky grimaced, and his right hand clenched into a fist. His breathing quickened. Whatever nightmare he was having was getting worse. Either Bucky would wake up from it, or Steve would have to wake him up. Without sleep, Steve wasn't sure how much longer Bucky would remain functional. Not even super soldier stamina could run on empty forever.

"You can do that?" Buck asked.

Wanda nodded.

"You helped me in Berlin. Maybe you can help the other me now." He nodded. "Coney island. The Cyclone."

"Come on, man." Steve threw him a glance.

"Outside of that one thing, we had a great day."

Wanda smiled softly and raised her hands to Bucky's temples. Scarlet energy danced from her fingertips, into Bucky's temples. The news played on the screen. Steve heard mention of the infinity stones on the broadcast, and he turned to see a photo of Vision with the caption "mind stone" underneath.

Sudden movement whipped Steve's attention back to Wanda. Bucky was on his feet, his back straight, his face firm and stoic. He looked around slowly, scanning the room, his eyes sliding from Tony to the group at the table, stopping ever so briefly on Banner.

"Wanda was just trying to help you with a nightmare," Steve explained.

Bucky tilted his head at him and raised his left arm. His eyes locked on the black and gold vibranium, and his brow furrowed.

Buck took a step forward as the other Bucky's head snapped up at him. The confusion on his face grew more intense as he studied his younger self. Then, his gaze darted again to Steve. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then he leapt in the air, his metal arm raised, and sailed toward Steve.

Buck intercepted so fast, raising his own vibranium arm in defense, that Steve knew he must have seen the attack coming. Metal clashed with metal. Bucky twisted, grabbing Buck's arm and using his other hand to send a hard fist into the younger man's right side. Buck doubled over, and as Bucky spun around him to head toward Steve, Buck charged forward with a guttural growl and sent the other soldier crashing to the ground.

Steve launched himself at the same time Tony activated his suit, but Banner was there before either of them. As Bucky snapped to his feet, Banner's large green arms grabbed him from behind, securing him in a firm bear hug. Bucky struggled like a wild man, yelling in rage as he jerked and kicked, but Banner's hold remained unyielding.

"What happened?" Steve looked at Wanda for answers, but her horrified, tear-streaked face told him she wasn't in any condition to give solid answers.

She shook her head, backing into the window. "I'm sorry. I…" Her eyes darted to the screen in the wall, which now showed an external image of Stark tower.

Steve lowered his voice. "It's okay. We'll figure it out." He knew Wanda had been through hell and her grief over Vision was still raw and fresh. For her, it hadn't been five years. It had been less than a day.

Buck was on his feet, staring at the other version of himself currently fighting Banner's hold with everything he had.

"Come on, little guy, settle down," Banner tried to soothe, but his words had the opposite effect.

Bucky belted out an angry scream and slammed his head back, smacking it firmly into Banner's chin, but the green guy didn't even flinch. Steve noticed the fingers on Bucky's right hand scrambling at his pantleg, obviously searching for a pocket—probably hoping to find a knife, Steve mused darkly.

Reaching into his pocket, Steve withdrew the Kimoyo comm bead and flicked a finger over it, then held it in his palm. Shuri's image sprang to life. She opened her mouth to greet him, but before she could, he cut to the chase.

"We need you here. There's an incident with our time traveler."

"Of what variety?" she asked

"I think he's having a flashback. I'm not sure. Wanda attempted a telepathic intervention and it seems to have backfired."

A mixture of disappointment and reproach darkened her face, but she nodded. "On my way. I hope you have not broken him after all the time I spent fixing him up."

-0- -0- -0-

Shuri looked at Amwerri in his white lab coat. "I am needed in the Avengers complex." She walked over to a small cabinet, reached in, and pulled out a compact gray case. "It appears they have broken our White Wolf from the future."

Amwerri nodded at her. "His wounds are deep. May Bast be with him."

Shuri gave a silent prayer herself and left the tent.