A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.

Note 2: This story is being revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.

Special Note: Thanks go out to the "Guest", who found a mistake that shouldn't have been made. Have you ever read something over so many times that you know something's not right, but you can't figure out what? *facepalm*

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 5

James kept his expression carefully neutral, giving the much older man time to process what his mind was telling him couldn't possibly be real. After a while, Dum Dum's jaw snapped shut as he rubbed a hand over his weathered face and said in a stunned whisper, "Beat me daddy eight to the bar. That really you, Barnes?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to respond with a smartass remark as he would've in the past. Instead, he said, "You're looking well, Dugan."

"Bah. I'm old. Been old for a long time." So Dum Dum wouldn't strain his neck, James pulled a folding chair from behind one of the displays and sat down. The old man's eyes never left his face except to take in his attire. He pointed at the exhibit with his chin. "Thought I was the last Howling Commando 'till they fished Rogers out of the North Sea. Now you're here, looking the same as you did when you, uh… Where you been all this time?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"After what we've seen and done, psht, I'll believe almost anything." James looked at the floor, glancing up when Dum Dum gripped his arm. "Anyone with the sense God gave a goose can see you've got troubles aplenty, Barnes. You gotta let 'em go before they eat you alive. Take it from a man who knows. After the war, I came home angry at the world. Couldn't keep a job, drank myself stupid every night for months." He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Wrecked my car, and ended up in the VA. Got dried out and talked to a doctor who helped me see that it wasn't only me I was hurting with my actions. Once I figured it out, well, these eyes started seeing what had been staring me in the face all along."

"What?"

Dum Dum looked at the gold ring on his left hand, his expression softening into a wistful smile. "A cliché, Barnes. Before you is a man who was transformed by the love of a good woman. Helen was a nurse on my ward, a widow with two young kids. We married within the year, had a couple more. The kids grew up, had kids of their own. Got three great-grandkids, and another on the way." Nodding, he indicated the direction the young man had gone. "Robbie's the oldest. Heading to college in the fall. Majoring in computers or some such."

"Sounds like you've had a good life, Dugan." James's enhanced hearing picked up the patter of applause, telling him that the film had ended. He didn't want to be seen with Dum Dum, and there was Norman to attend to as well. James stood, putting an end to their conversation. "I have to go."

Dum Dum held out his phone. "Got a number? We could maybe talk."

Part of James wanted to say yes because he needed to be around people with whom he had shared experiences. He also needed the comfort of familiar surroundings to help him remember the man he once was, to see if he could be that man again. To do that, he knew where he had to go. "Sorry."

With one last nod, James left his old friend alone, weaving through the crowd exiting the theater to Norman's side. He helped the old man stand, and together, they returned to the synagogue.

In silence that spoke louder than words, Norman shuffled down the hall to his room. He called out for Lucy. The cat gave James a look of reproach as she trotted past with her fluffy tail in the air. Norman's door close with a click, leaving James feeling worse than if the old rabbi had slammed it.

James shoved his clothes and other belongings into an old duffle bag he bought with the money he made working for Eugene. In the living room, he dropped several bills on the table next to where Norman sat to watch television.

Moving silently down the hall to the kitchen, James stopped with one hand on the doorknob. Then, before he could change his mind, he let himself out and started walking in the direction of the rail line where he planned to hop a train.

~~O~~

Norman heard the kitchen door close and padded quickly down the hall followed by Lucy. He picked her up and together, they watched James cross the street. Lucy murped at him. To console her-and himself-he rubbed her neck until she purred. "It's just you and me now, bubbeleh. We'll keep each other company, right my tsatskelah?"

Lucy made a sound of agreement as James turned a corner and could no longer be seen. With a sigh, Norman said, "Have a good life, Bucky Barnes."

~~O~~

The crowd from the tour spilt in two, flowing around Dum Dum like water around a rock in a stream, their excited chatter merely background noise to his thoughts. When he heard about Rogers coming back from the dead, he thought, as the rest of the world probably did, that it had been a fluke, a freak of nature that only happened once in a lifetime. He was startled out of his ponderings when his great grandson returned.

The boy stared in the direction Barnes had gone. "Who's that guy, Gramps?"

Gramps shook his head and huffed without humor, "Nobody, Robbie. A ghost."

The boy grinned. "Cool. He looks a little like that Barnes character. Let's ask if he'll be in our vid."

"Do your Gramps a favor, boy, and forget you saw him," Dum Dum stated in his no-nonsense tone. Wisely, Robbie didn't pursue the subject.

The Dugan men finished their tour of the Smithsonian, though Dum Dum barely noticed. They returned to the National Mall just as the sun was going down. Soon, they found a good vantage point for watching the entertainment. When the sun was nothing but a thin strip of turquois along the horizon, the mayor announced the firework display. To Dum Dum, the pops, bangs, whistles and flares reminded him of the war and missions he'd gone on with his team. Lost in thought, his head jerked around when Robbie touched his shoulder. "Time to hit the asphalt, Gramps. Mom and Nana will have a cow if I don't get you home."

The elderly soldier harrumphed. "Damn women, always hoverin'. Can't even go to the damn latrine alone these days. A man needs his space, boy. Those women are crampin' my style. Know what I mean?"

The boy chuckled. "Yeah. Mom's always tellin' me to clean my room and do my chores. Not much difference."

He shot a look of reprimand over his shoulder. "Your momma shouldn't have to bust your chops to get you to do your share of the work around the house. She and your dad aren't here to wait on your sorry ass. Pull your share of the weight. It'll be good for you. Besides, no dame's gonna want to hang out with a slob. This guy, George Carlin, he had it right when he said women are crazy and men are stupid, and that women are crazy because men are stupid. Don't be the one that gives the rest of us a bad name." A thought occurred to Dum Dum. "I never see you with a girl. Are you-what do they call it these days?"

Again Robbie huffed, longer and louder than before. "I'm not gay, Gramps. My friend Gavin is and so's Tanya. But that doesn't matter. They'll always be my friends."

"I agree. You are what you are, boy. And don't let anyone tell you different. That crap about God hating gays is just that. Crap! God made us all different for a reason."

"Why?"

Dum Dum shrugged. "We're not supposed to know His plan for us."

The fireworks ended and Robbie began pushing the wheelchair toward the shuttle that would take them to the parking area. "You don't believe in free will?"

"Course I do." The old man chuckled. "Why d'you think people screw up all the time? Bah! They don't trust their instincts. Think they know better than God. Idiots." Silence hitched a ride then, not leaving until they were nearly home. Robbie parked in the driveway and shut off the engine and pocketed the keys as he went to the rear of car to get the wheelchair. With Robbie's help, Dum Dum stood, turned and sat in the chair. He flipped down the foot rests, unlocked the wheels and rolled back so the door could close. "Remember what I said, boy."

"I will, Gramps."

Later, when Dum Dum had gotten dressed for bed, he muted the television and picked up his cell phone, holding it in one hand, thinking about his next move. With a sound of frustration, he scrolled through his contacts list until he came to Rogers' name. After the recent mess, he wasn't certain if the number would work. Couldn't hurt to try. The phone rang twice, clicked and continued. In his experience, that meant the call was being forwarded. And a few moments later, he heard Rogers' voice asking him to leave a message. "It's Dugan. Rogers, you are not going to believe who I saw today…"

~~O~~

Steve saved the message from Dugan and hit the end key on his way to the War Room, as Natasha called the common area. He shoved the phone into his back pocket, stumbling to a stop at a very odd sight.

Natasha, Maria and Sam were in the middle of a yoga routine. Soothing music played in the background. Their backs were to him, and it took all his will power to stop the blush that threatened to turn his face pink when they bent at the waist to touch their toes and Maria's backside filled his vision.

Maria wore black spandex shorts that stretched taught over her firm backside, the muscles clenching with each movement. It gave him ideas that were out of place in their current situation, and Maria would be the first to say so. And if they knew what he was thinking, Natasha and Sam would gang up on the two of them dispensing advice, something along the lines of "We could die tomorrow, so go for it."

Movement drew his wandering attention to the fact that Maria had come upright and was watching him with a smirk that said she knew where his mind had been. "What's got your boxers in a bunch, Rogers?"

His eye roll was for her alone then he got serious again. "We've got a lead on Bucky. Who's with me?"

Not surprisingly, Steve's three closest friends insisted on joining him. He nodded once in agreement. "Then shower and suit up. Wheels on the pavement in twenty."

His friends grumbled as they left the room, but it was good-natured. They understood the need to run down a hot lead before it cooled off.

Steve changed as well, putting on a plain T-shirt, sneakers and jeans. He grabbed a grey hoodie and the fake glasses he's worn while he and Natasha were hiding from Rumlow and his team of assassins. With the ball cap pulled low, no one would look at him twice. The same for Sam. Though Steve could never envision a moment when Natasha and Maria wouldn't draw attention. Both were inherently sensual, making it seem as effortless as breathing. Walking behind them turned a casual stroll into a smorgasbord for the eyes. The sway of their hips was similar yet subtly different. In the absence of any other visual clues, he'd still be able to tell them apart.

He pushed back the curtain that covered the entrance to his room, affording him some measure of privacy, though it wasn't much bigger than a storage closet. When he took into consideration the fact that he'd shared quarters with a dozen other men in boot camp and slept on the ground or a bedroll while on missions with his team, the room was almost luxurious in comparison.

The plan for following the lead on his best friend poofed out of existence when Steve was confronted by Maria dressed casually in low-riding jeans, sneakers, and a white scooped-neck tank top. Whenever they were alone, she always smirked the way she was now, making him work to keep from stuttering. Taking a deep breath to calm his rapid heartbeat didn't help because now he could smell her subtle fragrance. Citrusy with an undertone of basil, opposites that complimented each other in a near-perfect melding.

The hallway was narrow. For two people to pass each other, they had to turn sideways. As Steve approached Maria, she stood her ground until the last moment, barely giving him enough room to squeeze past. Her blue eyes sparkled with humor as he averted his eyes when he realized that, in this position, he could see down the front of her top. He muttered, "Excuse me," and quickly left the area with Maria's husky chuckle catching up to him as he turned the corner into the dining room.

~~O~~

Maria watched Steve scurry away like a startled rabbit. She should've felt bad for teasing him, but was having too much fun. Her smile waned as she reached into her sleeping cubicle for her denim vest and sunglasses. On her way to join the others, she slapped a cap on her head and pulled her ponytail out the back. Her phone was shoved into one back pants pocket and her wallet into the other just as she reached the dining room.

One of the agents vetted by Maria's former subordinate Eric Kripke was seated in front of an array of electronic equipment. His name was Eli Harrington, and he'd been the boat's chief of communications. Normally clean-cut with a military short haircut and ramrod straight spine, Harrington was slumped down in his seat with the keyboard on his lap. His sandy brown hair had grown out and a fuzzy beard covered the lower half of his face. The clothing he wore, baggy cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a tacky Hawaiian shirt over a white wife-beater, virtually guaranteed that he'd slide way under the radar of anyone hunting the castaway SHIELD agents.

"Your roots are showing, Harrington," Maria said to let him know she was there.

He huffed and reached for the sustainable water bottle on the table. "Eli."

"I'm not in the habit of calling subordinates by their first names."

His reflection on the monitor smirked. "We're not agents anymore, Maria."

"That situation is in flux." Shrugging into her vest, she rolled her eyes at his snort, though he couldn't see, and wouldn't care if he knew. "We'll be back sometime after dark. Don't wait up."

On that parting shot, Maria left through the steel door that guarded their refuge.

As she drew close to the vehicle, a battered twenty-year old mid-sized sedan with a large trunk filled with weapons, Maria could see Sam and Natasha already seated in the back seat. Steve was behind the wheel, leaving shotgun for her. From the looks on all three faces, there had been much debate about who would sit where. And she saw right through their matchmaking schemes. Yes, she was attracted to Steve. Though his physique was way above that of the average man on the street, he was no Thor, but then who was?

~~O~~

Eli waited all of ten seconds after the heavy metal door had clanged shut behind Hill to crank up the music to head-splitting volume and toggle over from data he was analyzing to his favorite Throwback Thursday game: Galaga.

~~O~~

Seeing her coming, Steve started the engine and waited until she buckled her seatbelt to put the car in gear and aim for D.C. Taking out her phone, Maria quickly tapped out a text, hearing a near simultaneous dual beep from the back seat once it was sent. Satisfied that she'd put the fear of Hill into them, she put the device away and stared out the window, only partially invested in the scenery until Steve spoke.

"We'll start at the Smithsonian. Question the staff."

"That's us," Natasha announced indicating herself and Sam while checking out her weapon. Sam did the same then shoved the nine-millimeter into the back of his pants and pulled his jacket down to cover it.

Steve glanced at Maria and back to the road. "There are video cameras all over the place."

Turing to look at Steve, Maria made a half smile. "That's me. I'll hack in and send the feeds to Harrington for analysis."

"What's your part in this plan, Steve?" Sam tapped a rhythm on his knee with his right hand.

For the first time since leaving the cave, Steve smiled and shrugged sheepishly. "Distraction."

He parked on a residential street. They got out and joined him at the rear of the car. Natasha crossed her arms and shifted all her weight onto on foot. "What kind of distraction, Rogers?"

Steve opened the trunk with a grin. "A third grade class from Benjamin Franklin Elementary is having a field trip today. While Maria's hacking the museum's video feeds, everyone will be too busy to notice."

Puzzled, Maria picked up one of the items, gave it a cursory examination and dropped it back in one of the open boxes. "You're going to pass out Iron Man dolls?"

"They're action figures," Steve stressed, "not dolls."

Sam nodded at what had to be hundreds of toys. "How will handing those out keep security off balance? I mean, they're just toys. Do you really want to draw that much attention?"

"I'm not." Steve's smug grin grew wider. Looking up into the sky, he pointed. In the distance and quickly approaching, they could see a red and gold streak. As it got closer, the streak turned into the shape of a man, and was soon hovering above them. "Thanks for coming, Tony."

"No problem, Cap. I was just working on a project for the military that could have real world applications in the public sector. Running a little behind, but I'll catch up." The power in the suit's repulsors dimmed and Iron Man landed beside them on one knee. He stood as the visor retracted, and Tony's bearded face peered out at them. "Besides, when Captain America needs your help, it's easier just to agree."

Astonished and trying not to show it, Maria closed her mouth, shooting Steve a glance and nod. "Good idea."

"Of course it was, Agent Hill," Tony picked up one of the toys, using it to point at the other four. "Jarvis'll scan their network, leaving the Scooby gang to meddle."

How Natasha resisted rolling her eyes at the billionaire, Maria didn't know. She just wanted it all to be over as soon as possible. And not just this, but all of it. HYDRA, being hunted, taking down the Winter Soldier, hiding in a cave under a series of abandoned warehouses wasn't what she signed up for when she joined SHIELD.

~~O~~

Standing in a dark corner, Steve watched Stark interacting with the kids, and doing a slam-bang job. Over the years, Steve had come to the realization that his first impression of Stark was right and wrong at the same time. And aside from the occasion spat due to differing political and religious views, they'd actually become good friends.

The whisper of rubber soled shoes on the carpet heralded the approach of another. From the corner of his eye, Steve saw the elderly guard he'd spoken to on many occasions. Time to put Natasha's interrogation lessons to work. "Virgil." Nodding at the people milling about, he remarked, "Still drawing huge crowds, I see."

The old man crossed his arms over his thin chest. "The government lies all the time. What're the chances they'd be telling the truth about Captain America being a traitor? Zip. Zilch." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. "A big, fat goose egg. All the times we've talked, I think I got to know you just a little." One arm swept through the air, taking in the crowd. "These people, they don't believe it either. In fact, I've been seeing some new faces since the you-know-what hit the fan."

Feigning just the right amount of disinterest, Steve muttered, "Anyone in particular stand out?"

Virgil stared at the ceiling, thinking. "You know, there was this one guy…" he shook his head and shrugged. "There was something about him. Stood right over there for about twenty minutes, staring at photos and reading the blurbs. Over and over."

"What'd he look like?"

"Little under six feet, one-sixty," Virgil cocked his elbows to signify a muscular physique, "buff. Couldn't see his face that well on account o' the ball cap and long hair. Had a beard, the kind you grow when you've been roughing it in the woods for a month and didn't wanna shave. Kept his left hand in his pocket the whole time. Not much of a talker."

Stark was telling his audience a story about the invasion. All were listening raptly, the children holding their breath in wide-eyed wonder as he described flying into the vortex with the bomb. To this day, Steve was still amazed that his friend had survived the fall, thanks to the Other Guy.

Sneaking a glance at his watch, Steve inquired, "He came in alone then."

"All but this last time. He was with an older man. Don't think they're related though."

"Oh?"

Virgil shrugged. "I think he's a rabbi."

Giving up the pretense of indifference, Steve let his curiosity show. "What'd he look like? The older man."

Tilting his head to the side, Virgil seemed to be examining the memory for details. "White hair, five-nine, maybe. Blue jacket and cap, no facial hair." He chuckled. "Looked a little like one of those wrinkly dogs, but without the cuteness. Why you wanna know, Cap? Captain Rogers?"

Steve heard the guard calling his name, but didn't respond. It was time to meet the others by the WWII memorial. He hustled out the main entrance, jogged across the street and sat under a tree with his back against the trunk with his legs crossed.

One by one, his friends joined him. He got to his feet, brushing the grass and leaves from the back of his pants. "What did you find out?"

Maria's expression was solemn and excited at the same time. She cued up the photos and turned the phone so he could see, using her forefinger to scroll through. The first showed two men, one old and stooped, and the other young, with a straight back. While they could see the older man's features clearly in every screen capture, the younger man seemed to know exactly where the cameras were. All that could be seen was his back and sides. In the one photo from the front, his head was tilted down hiding his face.

With a touch, Maria started a video that ran for about 20 seconds then stopped on a poor quality image of the man. "Do we have enough to run the facial thing?" Steve asked.

Natasha snorted. "We're already doing facial rec on the old man."

The phone beeped, and Steve moved behind Maria for a better view of the display. The man's vital statistics were listed below a more formal photograph of the older man in a conservative suit and yarmulke.

Name: Shulman, Norman Yitzhak

DOB: 29 September 1929

Age: 82

Profession: Rabbi, Temple Shalom in Arlington

Marital Status: Widower

Children: Son, Robert; Daughter, Davina

Grandchildren: Mark, Isabella, Candice, Sabrina, Nathaniel, Zelda, Bonnie and Joseph

Great Grandchildren: Annabelle, Daniel, Roger

"Unfortunately, there's not enough of the guy he's with."

"It's Bucky," Steve stated brusquely as he headed for the car. The others hurried to catch up, Sam and Natasha again taking the back seat. This time, he didn't even bother getting annoyed. All of his attention was focused on finding Bucky now that they had their first solid lead.

~~O~~

It was lunch time at Temple Shalom, and out of habit, Norman set the table for two. Shaking his head, the rabbi returned the extra plate to the cabinet. James had only stayed with him for a few days, yet he considered them friends. He and Lucy missed their buddy. The boy wasn't much of a talker, but he was company.

From the things he'd said, but more what he didn't say, James thought he was a fershtinkiner. But Norman knew better. James was a real mensch. Cats were excellent judges of character. And any man worthy of a cat's devotion be a good man or Lucy wouldn't have convinced him to take her in. Nor would he have saved the lives of the little girl and the man driving the car. As his mother used to say, James was good people. Over his meal, he said a prayer that James would find happiness in the future.

Hours later, Norman had carried his laptop to the living room to work on his sermon for the weekend when the doorbell rang. Lucy ran to the door, waiting patiently for him to open it so she could greet their guest.

The bell rang again, and Norman huffed in annoyance. "Oy! Keep your pants on. Don't move as fast as I used to…"

His voice trailed off in shock at seeing two men and two women standing there smiling in a way he didn't like at all. The taller man nodded. "Afternoon, rabbi." He paused, for dramatic effect, it seemed. "We'd like to talk to you about Bucky Barnes."

TBC

Bubbeleh = term of endearment, honey, darling

Tsatskelah = cute little girl