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.
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 6
Norman hid his surprise at seeing Captain America and three others standing on his front stoop, all four keeping their expressions carefully neutral.
"My name is…"
"I know who you are."
Without skipping a beat, Steve continued, "Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, and Sam Wilson."
Glancing down, Norman saw that Lucy was sitting with her tail at rest, just the tip moving. Over the din of traffic from the highway, he heard a gentle purr. Pushing the door wide, he swept his arm in invitation. "Come in. Have a seat while I get us a nosh and something to drink."
"We're not…" Maria started.
Norman cut her off by turning his back and heading for the hallway door. "Nonsense. Sit-sit-sit. I'll be back in two shakes."
~~O~~
Though the older man had made it clear he didn't want help, Natasha shared a moment of silent communication with Steve then followed Norman down the hall to the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder, giving in when she graced him with a smile. "I'll give you a hand, Rabbi."
"Norman, please." In the kitchen, his eyes met hers, and without warning, he smiled too. "I could never say no to a pretty girl."
Natasha didn't respond to the obvious flattery as she took the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. "I hope you don't mind us showing up without calling."
He made a sound dismissing her implied apology. "I had a feeling Captain America would be coming around. Didn't know he'd be bringing such charming company."
"We're not here to intimidate or trick you into telling us anything said to you in confidence." She picked up the tray with the lemonade and five glasses while Norman tucked a tin of cookies under his arm. "We need to find Barnes…"
"…before he kills someone?" He stopped in the hallway next to a closed door Natasha guessed to be another bedroom, slanting a small nod at it. "Not saying it's not possible, but I had some time to observe that boy. He's a very troubled soul who can't forgive himself for what wasn't his fault." The small amount of humor was gone, replaced by a combination of anger and sadness as he touched his temple. "I've seen the look before, in the camps. Mengele, the Schutzstaffel and the Red Skull, they took away thousands of Jews, Romani, Poles, the Soviet prisoners of war, the disabled, mostly the young men. Did experiments on them. So many were killed. Others they turned into mindless automatons who blindly followed orders.
"James is nothing like them. Those schmucks brainwashed him. Made him to do what they wanted, and he could do nothing to stop it. There are some who think this Red Skull and the Holocaust were bobbemyseh, an old wives tale. May God forgive me, but every night, I wished upon Hitler, Himmler, Mengele and their kind are mesa masheena. A death more horrible than that they brought on their prisoners."
Giving Norman a nudge with her elbow, Natasha whispered, "I'd've said blödes arschloch, but we'll go with schmuck."
He chuckled and shook his head, pointing a finger at her. "You, my dear, are no ordinary shiksa."
Natasha pursed her lips as a smile threatened to turn into a grin. "You have no idea."
Norman laid a hand over hers where it held the tray. "James is a good boy, a mensch. But he's ferblunjit. Confused and lost. Has to sort it all out in his head. Come to terms with the horrible things they made him do. Maybe then he'll feel worthy again."
"He feels remorse?"
Norman tapped his chest over his heart. "Every minute of every day. And it's worse when he's asleep." He shrugged. "If James wasn't a good guy at heart, Lucy wouldn't be here and two families would be sitting Shiva."
Clenching her jaw to prevent it dropping open, Natasha cleared her throat. "When did he leave? Did he say where he was going?"
He inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled. "Left last night. As for where, Ididn't ask, and he didn't tell. Said it was best for all. Educated guess, I'd say somewhere familiar. A place that holds fond memories for him. A place where he was happy." Their eyes locked again and Norman nodded with satisfaction, urging her toward the living room. The cat was on Steve's lap purring loudly as he rubbed under her chin and between her eyes. Apparently she preferred to spread the love around because she suddenly jumped down and went to Maria next. She rubbed her hand over the cat's head.
Natasha set the tray on the coffee table and poured the lemonade, handing a glass to each of her friends while Norman opened the tin of cookies, took out two and passed it to Steve. He took a sip of the drink to be polite then held the glass in one hand and the cookie in the other. "Sir…"
Norman interrupted Steve's attempt to question him with a chuckle. "She's very clever, your Natasha, Captain Rogers. She smiled, and I was helpless to resist her charms."
"Excuse me?"
Taking a seat between Norman and Steve, Natasha crossed her knees, and brought the glass to her lips for a long sip of the cold beverage. "I have everything we need to find Barnes."
"Uh, okay."
The relief from her friends was palpable, as was a small amount of confusion. But Natasha didn't care. Their curiosity would be appeased soon enough. One side of her mouth went up. "Drink up, Rogers. We don't want to overstay our welcome."
The group left as soon as it was polite to do so. Not a word was spoken as Steve drove to the corner, turned left and eased to a stop at the light, each lost in their own thoughts. The light changed and Steve stepped on the gas. At the next light, he looked over his shoulder at Natasha, who was once again in the back seat with Sam so Maria could sit at shotgun. She'd get the two of them together if it killed her.
With a flick of his hand, Steve signaled a left turn then a right onto the highway entrance ramp.
From the back seat, Sam said, "Where're we going?"
"Road trip."
"To where?" Maria asked.
Natasha and Steve snorted together. "Brooklyn."
~~O~~
Out of sight of the synagogue, James gave more than a passing thought to an idea. Actually, more than one. He had to ditch his current look for one less conspicuous. And he needed money. From what he'd seen, the few bills burning a hole in his pocket wouldn't last long.
Changing directions, he returned to the abandoned warehouse where he'd spent his first night of freedom. On his way from the river, he'd seen a library just a few blocks away. In the morning, he would bum one of their computers to research ways of making some fast cash. More than that, he had to find a way to secure a steady source of income.
In the warehouse's office, James tossed his duffle on a chair and shed his jacket. Taking the cap off, he tossed it on the desk and went down the hall to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he pushed his hair back and turned his head side to side. If he tied his hair back or colored it that might work.
Rubbing the back of his right hand down his bristly cheek, he decided the beard would stay in some form, at least for now. At the library, he'd look up the current fashion for men's facial hair and make changes accordingly.
He let the water run while baring his chest, then splashed his face. The water dripped onto his chest, the feel of the drops as they slid down to his waist reminding him that he was a living, feeling, thinking man capable of exerting free will and making his own decisions.
His life since the day he'd died had been all about killing. The mission. Always the mission. Until the fight with Steve sent him into a spiral, a swirling mass of questions that no one would answer.
The metal fingers of his left hand touched his cheek, feeling the sting of a slap. And deep inside, he heard voices. Saw a scene unfold as if he were watching a play from the wings.
But I knew him. Here is this place of pain and bitter cold, James felt out of place, alone, his voice lacking the unflinching confidence it had when he fought Steve and the woman.
Prep him. The other man's voice was unemotional and lacking empathy for the hurt he would cause.
Another voice joined the first two. Anxious, almost as if he cared what happened to the man under his supervision. He's been out of cryo-freeze too long.
Then wipe him and start over.
The flashback moved into the real world, shooting pain throughout his body like a bolt of lightning, burning its way along the path of every nerve, lighting up his brain and causing his muscles to contract.
James fell to the floor, curling into a defensive ball. But you couldn't defend against yourself. What had merely been painful a few moments ago was now unbearable. His screams echoed from the tiled walls of the bathroom, falling around him, pelting him with pebbles of vibration.
When his human brain could take no more, and he was teetering on the brink of madness, he shut down. A switch flipped, and that was all he knew for a long time.
Morning Glory Diner and Grill
Philadelphia
Once they were on the road, talk was sparse, each wrapped up in their own thoughts and plans for what lay ahead of them.
Natasha stared out at the scenery as it passed, the images only slightly blurred as Steve was keeping to the speed limit to avoid drawing the attention of the locals. And every now and then, he would cast a glance over at Maria
The radio was playing a tune from the forties, soulful with a lot of brass, and apparently Steve didn't realize that he was singing along.
You'll never know how many dreams
I've dreamed about you
Or just how empty they all seemed without you
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Steve exhaled long and loud at the end of the song. And this time, when he sneaked a peek at Maria, she was looking back. A rig's air horn blasted telling Steve he'd wandered into the other lane. He yanked the wheel and kept his eyes focused on driving.
A short time later, Natasha's stomach growled loud enough to be heard by Sam. Leaning forward, the ex-military man said to Steve, "What say we get something to eat and stretch our legs, Steve?"
"We'll stop in Philadelphia."
Less than fifteen minutes later, the foursome were perusing laminated menus while the server poured water and prattled on about the specials, his tone telling them he didn't care one way or the other. "…and for dessert coconut cake, cheesecake and cherry pie."
Except for the desserts, nothing the young man had described sounded good to Natasha. "Could you give us a few minutes to decide?"
The server shrugged one shoulder and walked away.
Natasha chose something basic, BLT, extra tomatoes and fruit salad. Then, she tuned out the noise around her, thinking over what Norman had said and she'd shared with the others at the beginning of their road trip. They would most certainly talk more on the subject, and hopefully come up with some ideas for finding Bucky. She'd tried thinking of him as James, the name he'd obviously given the rabbi, but couldn't do it, and neither could Steve. His best friend would always be Bucky in his mind. James Barnes was common enough that no one would associate it with Captain America's deceased best friend, which is probably why he used it.
Sam laid the menu on the table, drawing her focus. "I've been thinking."
One side of Steve's mouth curled in a teasing grin. "Don't hurt yourself."
Sam ignored him as he continued. "For seventy years, HYDRA's been thawing Barnes out, sending him out on missions, and shoving his ass back in the deep freeze for seventy years."
"And?" Maria asked.
"Did he ever try to go off the grid? From what I've heard, Barnes was laid back, but he didn't take crap from anyone. He broke through the brainwashing this time. How do we know he hasn't done it before?"
Showing that she was listening even though she and Steve were still smiling at each other, Maria gave Sam her attention. "Good point. There's bound to have been some trial and error, especially at the beginning, until they'd refined the process."
"That's my point. How did they locate him when he didn't return to base?" Leaning back in his seat, Sam looked down at his hands and back to Steve.
The tone of Sam's voice told Natasha that Sam had a point, and she waited patiently for him to make it.
"HYDRA had to have some way to track him, like the chips they put in cats and dogs in case they get lost."
Natasha, Maria and Steve all stared at Sam in shock. It hadn't occurred to Natasha that Bucky might have attempted to go off the rails in the past. "Hill?"
Maria nudged Steve, and he jumped up to let her out then scooted all the way to the wall so he could see out the window. She strode quickly through the dining room and out the front door with the phone to her ear. "You're about to earn your keep, Harrington. We need you to find someone for us."
The door closed behind her, cutting off whatever else she said. Through the window, Natasha watched Maria pace and talk, and pace and wait. Then, she abruptly stopped, her eyebrows drawing tightly together over her nose indicating confusion. With an angry poke, she shut off the phone and headed for the door. Whatever the news, it wasn't good.
She dropped into the seat next to Steve, carefully set the phone down as if she were trying not to throw it at the wall and crossed her arms. "Harrington did a scan for any anomalous readings connected to Barnes' implant."
They waited, but she didn't immediately continue, and Natasha recognized that she was attempting to curb her anger and disappointment. "And?"
Maria huffed in annoyance. "It was a good idea, Wilson."
Sam reached for his iced tea. "But?"
"The only unusual readings came from an abandoned warehouse in DC." Maria met the eyes of her companions. "And that's not possible. We're all agreed that Barnes is headed for New York, right?"
Steve nodded, his forehead crinkled in thought. One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Brooklyn is where we grew up. It's where his parents are buried. Until he joined the Army, he'd only left the boroughs once, to go to basic. That has to be where he's headed."
Keeping his voice low, Sam leaned his forearms on the table. "There's no other place besides Brooklyn that has happy memories for him?"
Smirking, Steve raised one eyebrow. "During the war, we were stranded in Leipzig while Falsworth was treated for a respiratory infection. Bucky met a Fräulein at the bar attached to the inn where we holed up. I seriously doubt he's headed for Germany though."
"Steve's right. Brooklyn's our best bet," Natasha put in. "Let's get going. I had my contact prepare us a safe house."
~~O~~
Sam took out his wallet so he'd been ready to grab the check when it arrived, realizing the mistake he almost made. Using his credit card would give anyone looking for them a paper trail, and that brought up a half thought that now reached culmination. "Just out of curiosity, how do you plan on getting by now that your source of income is literally in the drink?"
The women shared secret smiles, Natasha speaking for them. "Don't know about Steve, but most SHIELD agents have a contingency plan in place. And plans in case that falls through. Offshore accounts under a variety of aliases that don't link directly back to SHIELD, safe houses, contacts that no one else knows about."
He nodded understanding. "Playing devil's advocate here, but what would you do if you didn't have that safety net? Say you're stranded. Gas tank is empty, you've been living on those samples the grocery stores hand out, and you've had to sleep in your car for the last week. What would you do?"
Natasha's smile turned into a smirk. "Get someone else to foot the bill of course."
Looking from one woman to the other, Sam thought she was joking. But the look on hers and Maria's faces told him otherwise. He scoffed. "You seduce some gullible rich dude into giving you money? Now that I'd like to see."
Annoyed that his companions seemed to be laughing at him, even Steve, Sam made an after you gesture, inviting them to carry on. He expected Natasha to go for the glory. But he was taken aback when Maria stood up. He knew her expertise within the organization had been in a high-level command position.
Maria removed her vest, took the tie from her hair and shook it loose, then, to his shock, she reached inside the front of her tank top to bring her breasts front and center making them more prominent. Using her palms, she pulled the bottom edge of her top up ever so slightly, then lowered the waistband of her jeans until there was nearly a four inch gap allowing her perfectly shaped navel to show. Then, when her expression went from bantering to seductive, at that moment, Sam would've have given her anything she wanted. A stranger didn't stand a chance.
Leaning forward so that he could now see down the front of her top, she whispered huskily, "Watch and learn, Falcon."
As she walked away, her usual purposeful stride turned into a feast for the male eyes. She didn't just walk. She turned it into a show. The longer strides caused her backside to roll gently from side to side. The right side dipped down, around and up, the left following suit, the combination making a lazy figure eight and giving Sam ideas.
Once outside, she went to their car and lifted the hood so it blocked what she was doing. She came back into view shoving a hand in her pocket then proceeded to rub dirt on her clothing, arms, neck and over her forehead until she looked like she hadn't had clean clothes or a shower in at least a week.
Getting into the driver's seat, she waited, and soon, a fortyish man driving a sports car worth more than most people make in a lifetime parked next to her. Maria tried to start the car without success, slamming a hand on the steering wheel in frustration when it made a sickly rrr-rrr-rrr sound.
The man stopped at the bottom of the steps to watch for a moment then made his way to the driver's side. Maria buzzed the window down, and a short conversation ensued. She got out, gestured wildly, presumably telling her transfixed audience a tale filled with poverty, hardship, adversity, suffering, frustration, anger and disappointment. And not a word of it true.
Sam watched in astonishment as Maria convinced the man to give her a stack of bills. She waved her hands, shaking her head, but he insisted. Blinking to stop tears, she held him in a loose hug for a moment then stepped back, brushing away the fake tears.
The man waved, got in his car and drove away. Maria waved back as she tucked the money down the front of her top. She came back inside and again took her seat next to Steve. "And that, Falcon, is how it's done."
Sam's jaw fell open when Maria dropped a credit card on the table, followed by the cash. He pointed a finger at her. "He gave you cash, and you still lifted his credit card?"
The server brought their food and was gone. Maria relaxed back in her seat. "I'm not going to use it. I took it as a demonstration. Someone with sketchy ethical practices would rack up thousands in charges long before he even knows it's missing. I, on the other hand, will simply return it, anonymously of course. The cash I'll donate to a worthy cause."
Turning sideways in his seat, Steve gave Maria a relieved smile. "I'm glad you're on our side."
Her shrug was meant to be offhand, a physical rejection of his praise. But from the look on her face, that carefully nuanced expression of disinterest, it wasn't. "Yeah, well, I haven't always been a good girl."
Conceding the argument, Sam poured ketchup on his plate for the fries, and the group spent the next few minutes fueling their bodies. Most of Sam's burger and fries were gone when he finally stopped to finish off his iced tea and signal for another. After refilling their glasses, the server wandered away once more.
Maria stole one of Steve's fries, giving him an impudent grin when he mock frowned at her. One eyebrow twitched upward in a question, and Steve, the softy, turned his plate, offering her more of the fried potato wedges.
As one, the four companions reached for the check engendering much good natured hilarity as they each vied for the privilege of paying. Natasha backed off first. Sam gave up next, leaving Steve and Maria to fight it out. The super-soldier gave in when Maria waved one of the bills in the air and the server came running. He scooped up the check, plucked the cash from her hand and darted away again.
~~O~~
As they reached the car, Steve's phone vibrated. Using his thumb, he opened the text message, tapped out a quick reply and returned it to his pocket.
Though Maria, Sam and Natasha wanted to push on, Steve outvoted them on the question of stopping for the night. He pulled into a motel, parking where it couldn't be seen from the office. Sam went into the office and paid for two doubles.
Inside the room he shared with Sam, Steve propped pillows against the headboard and flipped through the channels while Sam got ready for bed. The fall of SHIELD was weeks in the past, and he was glad to see less coverage on the news channels. He didn't like going around in disguise all the time.
He didn't find anything worth watching so Steve shut the television off, tossed the remote on the bedside table and sat there thinking until there was a knock at the door in the pattern the four friends created. He rolled out of bed, peeking through the gap in the curtain just in case. Satisfied, he let Natasha and Maria in. They claimed the chairs at the small round table just as Sam came out of the bathroom. Now, all four were in sleep pants and t-shirts.
Maria held out a device smaller than a cell phone and they talked about nothing while Sam checked for hidden listening devices. He finished the sweep, shut the device off. "Good to go."
"We're going to need back-up to find Bucky."
Sam shifted his feet. "We need to keep the lowest profile possible. Bringing your SHIELD buddies in on this op would attract attention none of us needs. Now, I know a few people. Dependable, discreet, few family attachments. All but one is unemployed at the moment. Can handle themselves in a fight." He hitched one hip onto the corner of the battered dresser. "I can give 'em a call. Have them meet us here so you can look 'em over. If they meet with your approval, we can make plans." His eyes landed on Natasha and Maria who hadn't so much as twitched an eyebrow. "I know you've got a stockpile of weapons hidden somewhere."
Maria handed him her phone with a smirk.
Motel 9
Philadelphia
The Next Morning
Natasha rolled to the floor between the double beds, her left hand automatically reaching for the
Glock she'd hidden the night before, aiming at the motel room's door. A muffled thump told her Maria's instincts had taken over as well.
Both women got to their feet and crept to the window when a fist beat on the door of the room next to theirs followed by a male voice calling out, "Yo! Wilson! Open up!"
A female voice, rough with sleep and irate, yelled over the cries of a baby, "Shut the **** up or I'm callin' the ******* cops!"
Using one finger to widen the gap between the curtain and the window, Natasha spied four individuals, three men and one woman, standing in front of Steve and Sam's door. The biggest of them raised his fist to pound on the door again, stopping with his hand raised when it was opened. Sam's voice came from inside greeting them. The door creaked as Sam stepped outside to invite them inside. Knowing they were watching, he tossed a grin over his shoulder, adding a wink on the end.
Natasha shook her head as she twitched the curtain back into place and set the safety on her weapon before going to her duffle bag on the dresser. "They're early."
"Too early." Huffing, Maria, set the safety on her own weapon. "Bunch of eager beavers. They weren't supposed to arrive until after coffee o'clock."
The sound of bare feet slapping on the sidewalk stopped in front of their door. Natasha opened it and found Steve still in his pajamas with his hand in the air, ready to knock. He pointed his chin in the direction of excited voices coming from next door. "They're here."
Natasha pinned Steve with an "oh, really" stare. He tried hard to maintain eye contact, but his gaze kept shifting over her shoulder, tracking Maria as she moved about the room gathering her clothes. "We'll be there in a few minutes."
Suddenly averting his eyes, Steve quickly returned to his room. Natasha closed the door, turning around to see Maria, her arms crossed and grasping the bottom edge of the tank she'd worn to bed, preparing to take it off. She'd obviously started to undress to tease the super-soldier. "You enjoy teasing him way too much, Hill."
"Gotta make your own fun sometimes, Romanoff."
Shaking her head, Natasha took her bag into the bathroom to change.
A few minutes later, the women let themselves into the other room. Their smiles of welcome were wiped away at the sight of several handguns pointed in their direction.
TBC
The Schutzstaffel (SS), literally "Protection Squadron" was a major paramilitary organization under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party (NSDAP) in Nazi Germany, and later throughout German-occupied Europe during World War II. It began with a small guard unit known as the Saal-Schutz ("Hall Security") made up of NSDAP volunteers to provide security for party meetings in Munich. In 1925 Heinrich Himmler joined the unit, which had by then been reformed and given its final name. Under his direction (1929–45) it grew from a small paramilitary formation to one of the most powerful organizations in Nazi Germany. From 1929 until the regime's collapse in 1945, the SS was the foremost agency of security, surveillance, and terror within Germany and German-occupied Europe.
Bobbemyseh = an old wives tale
Meesa masheena = unnatural death
Shiksa = non-Jewish woman
Mensch = a good guy
Ferblunjit = lost
"It's Been a Long, Long Time" was a 1945 popular song, written by Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn, that became a major hit at the end of World War II. The lyrics are written from the perspective of a person welcoming home his or her spouse or lover at the end of the war.
Fräulein = single woman