Steve woke to the sound of a grunt and a thud that shook the bed through the floor. In a second, he was on his feet in the darkness, his eyes adjusting quickly. He heard hard breathing from the other side of the room.

"Bucky?" Steve saw the huddled, shadowy figure of his friend on the floor, half-propped against the far wall.

"I'm okay," came the choked reply.

Steve approached slowly, sitting on the edge of Bucky's bed, a couple feet away from him. He wasn't surprised that Bucky's sleep had been interrupted by what Steve assumed was another nightmare. Shuri's session had dug up old memories and brought them to the surface.

"Sorry I woke you," Bucky said.

Even in the dim room, Steve could see the slight sheen of sweat on Bucky's forehead and bare chest. It took a lot to make either of them sweat.

"Don't be. That's what I'm here for, remember? Moral support." He leaned forward. "I just wish I could do more for you."

"Your being here is enough."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I did promise to be less of a shutdown basketcase, didn't I?" Bucky managed a weak smile.

"Yeah, you did." Steve tried to sound encouraging, but he didn't want to put too much pressure on his friend. "I won't push, though."

"It's just a recurring dream I have sometimes. It never happened. Just a deep-seated fear, I guess."

Steve remained silent, letting Bucky decide how much to tell and what pace to set.

After a few seconds, Bucky continued. "You, me, and Stark are in the bunker in Siberia, right after he blew my arm off. I'm on the ground, he tells you to stay down. You get up, give him that line that you can do this all day. He raises his hand to blast you. I can't get up. I try, but I can't. All I can do is grab his ankle. He kicks me in the head, then he turns, and he blasts you. The walls cave. I know you're dead. In the dream, I know it, and I wake up. Every time, it takes me a few moments to realize it was only a dream."

Steve was surprised by the revelation. He thought Bucky would've dreamed of something that Shuri dredged up during her session. Instead, he was being plagued by a whole different kind of nightmare…something that never actually happened.

And it was about watching him die. Steve never stopped to think that, out of all the trauma Bucky had suffered, what happened at the bunker between the three of them might have added to it. He remembered Bucky telling him in the plane that he wasn't worth of all that.

Guilt was a powerful emotion, Steve knew that firsthand, deep in his soul. He'd had dreams of that day, too. Dreams where Tony killed Bucky in front of him.

Steve slid to the floor. "That was a bad day."

"Yeah," Bucky gave a disbelieving huff. "You could say that."

"Not your fault."

"I know."

"But you still feel responsible?"

"Of course." Bucky nodded. "If it hadn't been for me, none of that would have happened. From the moment you walked into my apartment, it brought you nothing but a fight, one after another. People died. Others almost died. You, Sam, and the others spent years as criminals."

"Is that why you never tried to contact me after the helicarrier?"

Bucky tilted his head. "Between the Hydra bomb in my head and the people who wanted me dead, jailed, or under their control...yeah. I knew what was likely to happen. Back in the Bunker, I didn't know how far Tony would go. I didn't know him as a person like you did. I feared that, after everything, I was still going to be the cause of your death, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it."

You felt helpless. Steve realized just how right Shuri was earlier. He tilted his head back against the edge of the bed. "Would it surprise you to know I had similar dreams? In mine, Tony kills you, and I can't stop it. There's another dream I had after I left you in Wakanda and the war happened there, I dreamt that Killmonger discovered you helpless in the cryo chamber and…killed you. I'm not trying to make this about me. I just want you to know that I understand that particular brand of fear."

Bucky managed a hollow chuckle. "Talk about luck. I go to Wakanda, put myself in Cryo, and immediately thereafter, T'Challa is almost killed and there's a civil war. Sometimes I wonder if I pissed off the wrong person in my youth, and they cursed me."

"You're not cursed, but, yeah," Steve acknowledged, "you have had more than your share of the bad stuff. I'm hoping that changes now. I'm glad that you trusted me enough to talk with me about this."

"I've always trusted you, Steve. You're the only reason I was able to break free of Hydra. I never really thanked you for that…for not giving up on me, even when you really should have. So…thank you."

"I wish I could've done more to help you, but I'm glad you're where you need to be now. I hope I can do more for the Buck in my timeline. I hope what I learn here with you can help me better understand the things he's dealing with—things I never even could've imagined."

Bucky scrunched his face, and Steve could see it even in the darkness. "What, am I? Your practice Bucky?" There was an incredulous smile on his face.

Crap. Steve realized he'd just put his foot in his mouth. "No."

Suddenly, Bucky's face broke into a huge grin, then he titled his head back and chuckled. It bubbled into a genuine laugh.

Steve was caught off-guard by the reaction, but he soon found himself smiling. "No. No. No. You're not my practice…" Well, if he thought about it, actually…. "Okay," he started to laugh, uncomfortably at first, but it grew into something genuine. "Maybe, you are, but I swear I don't mean you to be. It just happens to be working out that way."

Bucky leaned to the side, wrapped his right arm around his abdomen, and laughed with his entire body. Steve found himself laughing harder alongside his friend at the absurdity of it all.

The adjoining door to the room opened, startling them both. It had been there but was so unobtrusive and blended into the wall that Steve hadn't really noticed it. Sam appeared, dressed only in a pair of sweats.

"It's 3 a.m., guys. What the hell is so funny?" Sam looked both annoyed and bemused at the same time.

Bucky and Steve just laughed harder.

-0- -0- -0-

The days passed quickly, the weeks even faster. Four months flew by. Sam had returned to the States, coming back once or twice for brief visits.

The sessions Shuri put Bucky through were grueling. He was exhausted on a mental and emotional level almost all the time, getting short reprieves where he could spend time relaxing with Steve and sometimes Sam, if the new Captain America was visiting. Sometimes they'd explore the city, hike, or tour a museum or gallery. Occasionally, Bucky would catch up with people he'd gotten to know from the villages during his previous stay, introducing them to Sam and Steve.

Bucky knew his time with Shuri would soon come to an end. He sensed there was only so much more she could do for him, short of completely re-mapping his brain and, as she put it, "murdering" the man he was and creating a stranger in his place. Still, despite the psychological toll her sessions took, he felt…more grounded. At the very least, he was more aware of the snares and sinkholes in his mind caused by Hydra's relentless conditioning.

She'd somehow managed even to get him to confront those darker parts of his memories. It was like cutting out old scar tissue—creating a new wound in the process of removing the remnants of the old one. He wasn't sure whether the new wound would heal any better than the old one had. He could only hope it did.

He wasn't "fixed," but he was better. He felt it. His nightmares were far fewer, and she'd put him through enough exercises that he had begun to achieve a level of self-awareness about his triggers that, he hoped, would help him be less reactive and more thoughtful in the future.

He still had a hard time figuring out where James Barnes ended and the conditioning Hydra had driven into his brain began when it came to those innate personality traits Shuri had mentioned during their first official session. He hoped, someday, he'd be mostly James Barnes again, instead of the hybrid human-soldat that he'd become after escaping Hydra.

Tonight, Sam was in Wakanda, and he, Steve, and Bucky were spending their time on the hill in front of his hut. They'd come prepared this time. The hut was cleaned, they had food, water, and a change of clothes. The night sky was clear. Tomorrow, they'd leave for New York.

He and Steve had talked. Bucky knew it was time. Steve hadn't said anything, and Bucky wondered how long he'd be willing to stay, but he knew he couldn't keep his friend in this timeline forever. There was another version of himself that needed Steve even more than he did.

So, he'd let Steve know he would be okay. Shuri had taken him as far as she could. She'd already contacted a therapist she respected in New York who could transition Bucky to a more routine therapy schedule. Shuri would remain available to assist remotely, and if need be, he could always take a trip to Wakanda whenever he needed to recharge.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt optimistic.

They had meant to sleep in the hut, but they ended up falling asleep under the night sky. Morning came too soon. Bucky was awake, sitting at the dead campfire, watching Sam and Steve sleep. Wilson—the goat—huffed up the hill, munching on grass.

Steve opened his eyes first. Bucky smiled as he watched his friend take in the scenery. Waking up on the hillside was one of the best feelings in the world. The goat gave Steve a curious gaze as it hopped up to him. Steve sat up, and his eyes found Bucky immediately.

"Good morning, Buck." Steve scratched Wilson gently behind the ears.

Sam stirred with a groan. "What time is it?"

"Sometime after dawn," Bucky replied. From the angle of the sun, he guessed 7 a.m.-ish, but he hadn't looked at his phone all morning.

He rose and walked into his hut. The box he'd brought with him was in his pack. He reached in and pulled it out, then walked back outside to see Steve and Sam stretching near the burnt wood.

"Here you go." Bucky walked up to Steve and held out the box.

With a curious look, Steve took it and lifted the top off. He smiled, and his eyes welled with tears. It was the photograph of him, Steve, and Sarah during Bucky's 18th birthday.

"I don't want you to forget this," Bucky said.

"I didn't forget." Steve looked up at him. "I just didn't want to ask you for it. It's the only one of us together in your album before the war. Thank you."

Bucky grinned. "I had Shuri scan me a copy, plus," he patted his back pocket, "it's on my phone, too. Also, Shuri made a copy of all the photos for your Bucky, too. Maybe they'll inspire him to reach out to Becca sooner than I did, give him more time with her. They're packed in my bag for you to take with you when you leave."

-0- -0- -0-

Shuri was their pilot for the trip to New York. She wanted to meet with Dr. Brabson—the trauma-informed recovery therapist that would take over Bucky's weekly sessions. Bucky felt almost like a foster dog being handed off from one caretaker to another. He didn't like the idea of a new therapist. Talking to a complete stranger about the dark things in his past wasn't something he felt comfortable with…not even now. But he knew he had to put in the work. At least, this time, it wasn't mandatory. He could go. He could cancel. He could decide when and if he was ready to stop. That, alone, gave him a sense of control.

He trusted Shuri, so he was willing to give Dr. Brabson a chance.

Now, Shuri, Bucky, Steve and Sam were in the field in New York. The platform was in position, the time device attached. Steve stood in front of Bucky, dressed in his Captain America uniform, sans the mask, the shield at his back, and the case resting on the ground next to him.

Steve smiled at him, but there was pain in his blue eyes. "Goodbye, Bucky."

Bucky reached forward and pulled him into a hug. "Bye, Steve."

They held the embrace for a few seconds, then Steve pulled back and gripped Bucky's shoulders. "You're going to be okay?" It was as much a question as a statement.

Bucky grinned. "I've got a new mission now…" He tilted his head toward Sam, "…keeping him out of trouble. I'll try not to get carried away."

"Hey, I've been taking care of myself since before you came along," Sam protested.

Bucky shot Sam a grin, but he couldn't hold it, and it faded quickly. He took a deep breath. This felt so very much like the last time he'd had to say goodbye to Steve. "I'm gonna miss you."

Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulders. "I know there's another you in my timeline, but I'm going to miss you. Goodbye, Bucky."

Steve turned to Sam and gave him a hug, too, then clasped his arm. "The shield looks good on you."

Sam smiled. "It's finally starting to feel right."

"Take care of yourself, Sam."

Steve reached down and picked up the case, then hopped onto the platform. Shuri handed him the tablet. The quantum signature lock bracelet was around his wrist. He set the case at his feet and looked down at the tablet. His fingers tapped a few times. Then, he glanced up, gave Bucky and Sam a salute, and hit the tablet one final time.

Instantly, a hum arose, and the space around the platform warped. A pulse of light erupted, and then Steve and the platform were gone. Bucky heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, then felt Sam's warm hand on his right shoulder.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Bucky nodded and looked over at his friend. "Okay enough."

-0- -0- -0-

Buck was getting anxious. It had been over an hour since Steve and the other Bucky had left, and the field was still empty. Stark had explained that the time travel device Steve was using wasn't precise and would be accurate only within about an hour of the time entered. That meant that, in order for Steve to make sure he didn't show up before his counterpart left, he'd have to set the return time for an hour or so after he originally departed.

They were all clustered around the field. Bucky was seated on the ground, propped against a tree at the edge of the field. The others had all taken to the ground as well. Natasha and Wanda were sitting cross-legged a few yards away, chatting. Tony and Banner were laying on the grass engaged in low conversation.

Shuri and Sam were nearby. Sam periodically glanced Buck's way, his eyes concerned.

On one of those glances, Sam caught Buck's gaze and cocked his head at him. "He'll be back."

Buck simply nodded. He really hoped so, but there were too many things that could go wrong with time travel. Hell, the signature lock wristlets couldn't even be tested. They had no way of knowing whether Steve and the other Bucky actually made it to the right timeline…or even made it anywhere at all. If Steve never returned, Buck would have no way of knowing whether he even survived the trip.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light in the field and a static charge of electricity. A split second later, the platform appeared, and Steve was on it, a case at his feet and a tablet in his hand. Buck was on his feet instantly, and he knew he was grinning like a fool. All of the tension that had been building up in him over the past hour released with a slump of his shoulders and a long, exhaled breath.

Steve's eyes scanned the group.

"Well, look who finally decided to make an appearance," Tony said, now on his feet next to Banner and brushing dirt and grass off his pantlegs.

Steve smiled and hopped off the platform. Bucky and Sam walked up to him, and Bucky gave his returning friend a quick visual once-over.

"Hey, Buck." Steve nodded. "Sam."

Steve set the case down and gave each man a quick hug.

"It's good to have you back," Buck said, trying his best to sound casual as he pulled away from Steve. "And, you can use Bucky now that my other counterpart is gone. Don't think I didn't notice that."

Steve gave a laugh at that. "I have something for you." He crouched down, set the case flat on the floor, and opened it.

Inside, Bucky saw a smaller black box next to a holodrive and Kimoyo bead. Steve handed it to Buck. "A gift from your counterpart."

Bucky took the small black box, curious what the other Bucky could have possibly given him. His breath left his chest when he opened the lid and stared at the contents. It was a stack of photos, nestled perfectly inside the box. The top photo was of him, Steven, and Sarah on the day of Buck's 18th birthday.

"Wow" Sam peered at the top photo. "Seeing you next to Bucky and that woman really drives home just how small you were, Steve. Who is she?"

"My mother," Steve answered.

Bucky heard the subtle grief in Steve's answer and looked up at his friend. "Do you want—?"

Steve smiled. "I already have a copy. Thank you."

Bucky had no idea where these photos came from, but he'd ask Steve for the full recap later. He tilted the box and let the neat stack of photos fall out carefully into his hand, then he set the box down inside the case and gently leafed through each photo. He saw his deployment photo. His sisters. Their children. Vacations. Thanksgiving. Funerals. Lifetimes and events he'd missed.

A flood of emotions he hadn't felt in quite some time swelled within him, and his vision blurred with tears. He wiped quickly at his eyes, felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into Steve's face.

"The dates and events are written on the back of each photo." Steve said. "The other Bucky asked me to give you a message—go see your sister in Indiana sooner rather than later."

So, that's where the photos had come from. Becca. Bucky didn't know what to say. He knew his sister was alive. It was one of the facts he'd discovered when he'd been researching himself after the helicarriers, but he didn't want to risk bringing his brand of trouble into her life. He wasn't even sure whether she knew he was alive. Had she seen the news? Did she recognize him? If so, would she even want to see him?

"She wants to see you," Steve said.

Bucky looked up at him. "Are you telepathic now?"

Steve smiled and shook his head. "No, but I've spent time getting to know this version of you."

"How long has it been for you?" Sam asked.

Steve glanced at the Falcon. "A few months."

"Everything okay with the other Bucky and, the, uh…" Sam tilted his head.

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

Tony walked up and slapped Steve on the arm. "Good. So, he's not locked up?"

Steve shook his head. "All the legal stuff is taken care of." He met Tony's gaze. "Pepper was very helpful." He pointed to the holodrive inside the case. "She left a message for you."

Something that looked like regret flashed quickly in Tony's dark gaze as he picked up the holodrive. "Thanks," he said, his voice uncharacteristically flat and serious.

"And, Shuri," Steve grabbed the Kimoyo bead and handed it to the princess, "your counterpart has loaded quite a bit of information for you. It's all the data she's gathered related to our friend." Steve tilted his head toward Buck. "She thinks this could help you help him, if that's something you're still up for. I know there's a lot going on in Wakanda right now after the blip."

She smiled and took the bead. "If he is willing, he is welcome. I will do my best."

Steve nodded gratefully. "Natasha," he looked at the former Black Widow as her chin came up unexpectantly. "Clint says 'hello.'" Steve smiled. "He was very happy to hear that you—and this is a quote—got the better timeline."

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"He's retired, spending time on the farm with his family," Steve said.

She looked relieved. "I'm glad. He deserves that."

Banner walked up. "So, are you going to give us the recap of what happened with the little guy?"

Steve smiled at that. Bucky grimaced. There were very few people who would ever refer to him as "the little guy."

Bucky spoke up. "I'm not loving the nickname."

Steve chuckled and slapped Bucky on the shoulder. "That's okay, Buck. Compared to Banner, we're all little guys."

-0- -0- -0-

Bucky stood in front of new Stark Tower, carrying potted tulips in his right hand, and looked up at the imposing structure. Steve had left back to his timeline a couple of days ago, and shortly after that, Pepper had sent Bucky a message asking if he had time to stop by. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but he owed her an official "thank you."

He wasn't sure what the etiquette was when paying a visit to someone who had helped save you from a lifetime in prison and who happened to have more money than anyone could ever need…. So, he bought tulips. He had no idea whether she even liked flowers, but it seemed wrong to show up empty handed.

He walked into the lobby of the building and up to the welcome desk. A young man with brown hair looked up at him and smiled. "Good morning, Sargeant Barnes." He pointed to a bank of elevators to his left. "Garden level. She's expecting you."

Bucky stepped into the elevator and saw a button labeled "G" above the 18th floor. He pressed it. After a short ride, the doors opened, and he stepped out onto a rooftop oasis, complete with trees and a pond.

Pepper stood on the far side of the pond and turned toward him as the elevators opened. She smiled brightly and met him halfway.

"Thank you for coming, Sargeant Barnes."

"Bucky is fine," he said, holding out the potted tulips. They were purple. "This is for you, as a thank you. I know it's not much, but I wasn't sure what you liked."

She took the gift and her smile brightened. "Thank you, Bucky."

She turned and walked toward the edge of the rooftop. Bucky followed her. As they approached, he saw a compact sleek, blue vehicle that looked reminiscent of a Porsche, though it had only an "S" as an emblem on the front. The car was parked near the edge of the roof, around the corner of the rest of the towering building that rose in a semi-circle around the garden.

She pointed to it. "Tony left me a message. He said that he promised you a flying car."

"What?" Bucky shook his head. "No. Not at all. It was a joke."

"Well, he didn't see it that way, and he wanted to thank you for bringing back his parents." She gestured to the car. "This is the latest Stark concept vehicle. It's not approved by the FAA yet, but we're working on it. To get approval, it'll have to remain owned by Stark Industries, but it's yours whenever you need to use it…once we get the FAA stuff worked out."

Bucky shook his head. "You've already done enough. I owe you my freedom. I don't need a flying car, but," he couldn't help but smile like a kid as he stared at the machine, "I'd love to see how it works."

She grinned and set the potted plant down next to the raised edge of the roof. "No discussion. It was made especially for you, so whenever you need it—if you're off with Captain America trying to save the world or you just want a quick ride to Indiana, all you have to do is text my assistant and he'll have it ready for you once it's legal. I wouldn't want you to find yourself on the wrong side of the law again. The FAA can be rather cantankerous."

He nodded in shock as he walked up to the vehicle. The car would definitely make it easier to see his sister more frequently or drop by the Wilson home in Louisiana. Sarah and the kids would no doubt get a kick out of the flying car.

Pepper touched the handle of the car's driver side door, and the door seemed to dissolve as if by magic. She slid into the driver's seat. "Nanotechnology," she explained. "Let me show you how this works. I can operate it legally over Stark Tower, as long as I don't go above the upper floor of the building by more than fifteen feet."

The door reappeared, sans the window, and she tilted her head toward the empty seat next to her. "Hop in, Bucky. I'll show you how this works."

He peered over the side of the building, then looked at her with a grin. "That thing's been thoroughly tested, right?" he teased.

She cocked an eyebrow. "The computer simulations have all gone very well."

He chuckled and walked to the other side of the car. He touched the handle, and the door did a similar disappearing act. He slid into the seat. The car sat low, so he had to stoop, but once he was in, it was comfortable. His head didn't hit the roof, and he had plenty of leg room.

The door reappeared. Pepper pressed a button on the dashboard that looked a lot like the ignition on a standard keyless vehicle. The dashboard itself was something out of a sci-fi film. A low hum rose.

"The main button that I pressed starts the car engine," Pepper explained. "The ground car function is electric and self-charging thanks to the latest repulsor technology, which is what allows this thing to take flight. If you want it airborne, it's all voice activated. SPEAR, flight mode."

A Scottish male voice answered. "Flight mode engaged."

"What's with the accented AIs?" Bucky asked.

Pepper grinned at him. "A Tony thing. Since this was his idea, I thought I'd keep up the tradition."

"What does SPEAR stand for?" Bucky asked as the vehicle began to levitate.

"Self-Propelled Electric Aerial Roadster." She cocked her head at him. "It can fly itself, if need be."

"What's the fun in that?"

She laughed as the steering wheel began to morph into a more rectangular control stick. Pepper grabbed it. "This works a lot like a traditional flight system. Push in to nose the craft down, pull back to go up, etc." She looked at him. "I understand you know how to fly."

"Yes." Hydra had trained him on a variety of aircraft. "No official pilot's license, though."

She waived a hand in the air. "Oh, don't worry about that. This falls under special FAA regulations Stark attorneys helped draft after Tony started zipping around in his Iron Man suit."

She pulled up on the wheel, and the hovering car tilted upward. "Because it's a car, it's got pedals," she said, "an accelerator, and a brake, and they work just the same for both ground and air operation."

Her foot hit the accelerator. The craft swooped up into the air at an almost straight angle, and Bucky found himself pinned against the seat. He grabbed the door handle reflexively and looked down at the stunning, dizzying view of the city. He hadn't even thought to look for seat belts.

The car came to a sudden stop at what looked like exactly fifteen feet above the roof of the building. Bucky barely came out of his seat despite the abrupt change in velocity. He glanced over at her in surprise.

"You're lookin' a might peely-walley there, lad," SPEAR's Scottish voice said.

Bucky scrunched his face at Pepper. "What did he just say?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I think he said you're looking a little pale."

"Not me, no way." He smiled. "I've jumped out of planes without a parachute."

"So, what do you think so far?" she asked.

"It's amazing. How did I manage to stay in my seat through that?"

"The same technology that allows this car to hover is used as a type of inertial damper inside the vehicle. It's all computer generated. You'll move around a bit, of course, so you won't feel too restricted, but it's designed as a safety mechanism to avoid having the occupants slam against the cabin. The field increases as needed, depending on change in direction and speed. It operates only when needed—so during flight maneuvers or if the system detects a collision or impending collision on the ground." She pointed toward his door. "But there are standard seat belts, too, so you won't get a ticket using it on the streets…. Would you like to give it a try?"

He nodded. "Hell, yes."

"Watch this." She grinned. "SPEAR, switch operators."

Suddenly her and Bucky's seats were moving. Pepper's moved back into the open cargo area behind, and his slid to the left, then her seat came forward into the passenger compartment. He never could have imagined anything like this growing up in Brooklyn. If someone had told him he'd one day find himself behind the wheel of a flying car high above New York City, he'd have told them they had an active, crazy imagination.

Still, as much as he wanted to give it a try, he was slightly anxious about having Pepper in the car on his test run. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Go ahead," she told him. "SPEAR has all the appropriate safety measures. It's almost impossible to crash. It's got collision detection, course correction, you name it. You can manually override most of those, though. One of the engineer designers has set aside some time to go over all the operations of the vehicle with you, but SPEAR can also answer any questions, as well. We made him as user friendly as we could."

"For an old guy like me?" He replied.

She threw him a cocky smile. "I didn't quite say that."

"Not quite."

He knew he couldn't go very far yet, so he pushed the wheel in and gently hit the accelerator. The car nosed downward. He felt himself shifting forward in the seat slightly due to the pull of gravity, but there was also obviously an invisible force keeping him in his seat.

When the car was only inches above the rooftop garden, he pulled back on the wheel again and hit the accelerator. The car tilted and shot up. He laughed. He almost felt like a kid again. He went up and down several times, then practiced spinning the vehicle in place. It had one hell of a turning radius—zero.

"I'm glad you like it," she said.

He looked over at her. "Love it. I've got to show this to Sam."

"Are you going to let him drive it?"

He shook his head. "Hell, no. He's got his own wings." Maybe he would, once.

She laughed. Then, she looked over at him, serious, as the car hovered motionless ten feet above the rooftop. "Thank you," she said, "for Tony. It helps knowing he's alive in another timeline, even if it's not mine."

Bucky set the car carefully down on the rooftop. He felt the wheels shift into the proper position beneath the car just before the craft touched down. He swiveled in his seat to look at Pepper.

"You're welcome. I'm sorry he's not here for you and Morgan."

"It's enough to know that he's alive," she answered, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

She touched a panel on the inside of the door handle, and the door vanished again. Bucky did the same, and they both slid out of the vehicle.

"There's one more thing I have for you," she told him, moving to the rear of the car.

She tapped the "S" emblem in the back, and a small panel slid back, revealing a tiny compartment. Bucky figured that had to be the smallest trunk he'd ever seen. It was about three feet long and even less deep—barely big enough to hold an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. He grimaced at that thought. He wondered how long it would be before his brain stopped automatically reviewing tactical options.

Inside the trunk was a stack of a dozen worn black journals bound together with twine, each with colored tabs jutting out from the pages. He knew them intimately.

"They were confiscated," Pepper explained, "after you were arrested for the UN bombing. They've been in an evidence locker all this time. When Steve delivered Tony's holodrive, it held a bunch of information he thought I might need to know. This was included. He knew these had been taken from you originally, and he thought you might want them back."

The sight of them brought him back to that time in his life. After pulling Steve from the river, he'd become the Ghost again as he tried to make sense of the images that flashed through his brain and the emotions they brought. The journals had been his way of making sure the memories didn't slip through his fingers. He wrote down every image, every memory, every time a scent triggered something.

When he'd been walking down the street in Scotland, an old man played a horn. The music had stopped him in his tracks. He had no idea where he'd heard it, he just knew he had. It had played in his head for days until, one night, he woke up from a dead sleep with the name of it in his brain and quickly grabbed the journal from the floor next to his thin mattress.

Old Sad Eyes.

He hadn't remembered where he'd heard it, but he knew the title. He knew it was about war—he knew he'd fought in that war. He remembered a blue poster with the Nazi symbol… a mother holding her baby. The words 'Keep these hands off' and, at the bottom of the poster, "BUY the new VICTORY BONDS."

He wrote down whatever he remembered. He scribbled images the best he could, jotted down phrases, names, titles, things….

Coney Island. Hot dogs. The 107th. Dum Dum. Whatever came to him, when it came to him. So little of it had made any sense at first. He had no sense of chronology or even what some of the words had meant.

Eventually, he'd gathered enough that the memories started to coalesce into something he could make sense of. He'd marked pages, underlined, made notes in the margins, and tried to color code things he thought were related.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Pepper sounded concerned.

He took a breath and forced a smile as he glanced at her. "It's just Bucky." He reached in and picked up the stack of journals. "Thank you."

-0- -0- -0-

Steve studied the young woman before him as she prepared to leave. He owed her a debt he wasn't sure he could repay.

"Are you sure, White Wolf?" Shuri stood in front of Bucky, an open portal behind her.

Bucky's hair was shorter now and all traces of the beard gone. He'd taken his counterpart's advice. He looked so much like he had back in 1944, but his face was a bit older, his eyes more haunted.

The sorcerer Wong, waited nearby, the Wakandan Citadel visible in the distance on the other side of the portal.

Bucky glanced at Steve, then nodded at Shuri and said, "Yeah. You and T'Challa will have your hands full for a while dealing with the throne and the post-blip chaos. I know you need to focus on that. I'll just be in the way right now, but when you're ready, I'll be there. If you need me for anything, though…"

"Me, too," Steve chimed in. He wasn't sure what type of situation T'Challa had found when he went back to Wakanda, but after everything the man had done for him and Bucky, he owed him, as well.

Bucky gave Steve an appreciative smile, then finished, "just say the word." He held up the Kimoyo comm bead she'd given him.

She nodded gratefully. "I look forward to seeing you soon. In the meantime, make sure to practice what we discussed, and call me anytime. I can always make time for a remote session until you return to Wakanda for further treatment."

Shuri stepped into the portal, and then Wong closed it behind her with a sweep of his hands.

Steve turned to the monk. "Thank you."

Wong tilted his head. "Now that I'm done playing intercontinental chauffer, it's time for me to take my leave. It's been….interesting getting to know all of you."

Bucky chuckled. "That's the understatement of the year. Thank you again."

Wong opened another portal and disappeared through it.

Steve tapped Bucky on the arm. In the other timeline, he hadn't been around to help Bucky. This time, he would. "Let's take a walk."

Bucky studied Steve quizzically, but a shadow of apprehension clouded his face. "Okay."

Steve realized instantly what Bucky must be thinking and silently berated himself. "I'm not going anywhere. I wanted to talk about some of the things I learned in the other timeline."

"Oh." Bucky fell into step alongside Steve as they made their way slowly around the disheveled grounds of the Avenger's complex.

Steve wasn't sure how to begin the conversation. The things he'd learned in the other timeline wore heavily on him. He'd suspected much of it, known in some part of him that it had to be worse than he could imagine, but he'd been ill-equipped to deal with it before. He hadn't even known where to start. Thanks to Shuri and Amwerri, he was on slightly better footing this time.

He'd learned more about what had happened with Zemo, about the buttons the man had intentionally pushed. "He will do anything you want," Zemo had said in Madripoor, offering Bucky up like a piece of meat.

Those words had meaning. They'd been written in the red book with the black star, along with examples of just what "anything" meant and details of the experiments to turn Bucky from a test subject into an elite assassin. T'Challa had found that book after apprehending Zemo. Everything in it was written in Russian, but a simple scan had translated its contents into both English and Wakandan Xhosa.

The day Steve learned those details was one of the hardest days of his life. The only thing that had kept him going was knowing Bucky needed him to be strong for the both of them, but he'd had to take a moment for himself and break down as quietly as he could in a corner of the laboratory complex, out of prying eyes, and out of earshot.

Bucky hadn't slept for two nights after that session with Shuri. When he finally did, the nightmares came. Steve hadn't even been sure what had woken him, but when he'd looked over at the other bed, it was empty. He found Bucky curled up in the corner of the room, silent and motionless except for the subtle motions of breath.

He knew there would be many nightmares ahead for the Buck of this timeline. The other Bucky had finally started to open up and tell him things he'd need to know. Like how he'd had nightmares every single night after the battle with Thanos. In Wakanda, the bad dreams had diminished, happening maybe once or twice a week, but after coming out of another battle and losing Steve, they'd plagued him all the time. He'd functioned on about two hours of sleep a night for months.

"In the months I spent with the other version of you in Wakanda," Steve began, "I was privy to some…things I know you're probably not ready to talk about right now."

Bucky's step faltered briefly, but he said nothing. Steve risked a glance over at his friend, saw the tightness of his shoulders, the twitch in the side of his jaw.

Steve forged ahead. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you. I can handle it. I already know a lot more than I did a few months ago about what Hydra did to you…what you endured. The fact that you're here and that you have your mind back is a testament to how strong you are. I know you probably don't feel that way right now, but you are one of the strongest people I know. When you're ready to talk about any of it, I'll be here."

Bucky stopped a few yards from the complex and turned to face his friend. Steve straightened his shoulders and met those eyes. He watched the flicker of emotions in them—humiliation, guilt, remorse—and kept his own gaze steady, without judgment.

Finally, Bucky gave a tight nod, and Steve suspected that was the only acknowledgment he'd get at the moment. He considered it progress. He was surprised when Bucky reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"I can't…talk about it yet," Bucky said, his voice barely a whisper, "but thank you, man, for everything. I wouldn't be standing here right now if it weren't for you."

Yet. Steve noticed the word. It gave him hope. "I promised you 'til the end of the line. I do my best to keep my promises."

Bucky cocked his head and smiled at Steve. "For the record, I said that first."

Steve couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Yeah, you did."

As they fell into step alongside one another and headed toward the renewed Avenger's compound, Steve felt grateful that he had Bucky in his life. It made this strange, new world he found himself in feel a bit more like home.

-The End