Chapter 30: Legal Woes

Sunlight teased Bucky from sleep. He opened his eyes to unfamiliar wallpaper and a bright room, experiencing a moment of panicked disorientation before the fog cleared from his brain and he remembered where he was.

He heard the faint hum of voices. Forcing himself out of bed, he took care of his morning hygiene quickly, then dressed, choosing a long-sleeved blue Henley to hide his arm. Hopefully, the hand wouldn't be too much of a shock to the kids.

He followed the voices to the dining table near the kitchen. Natasha, Barton, two kids, and Laura—nursing a baby—sat around a table in front of empty plates. Bucky hadn't meant to intrude on a private moment, and he averted his gaze quickly.

"Good morning," Natasha's voice greeted. "We saved you breakfast. It's being kept warm in the oven."

"Ah, thanks."

"You met my wife, Laura," Clint said, "as a hologram, anyway."

Bucky glanced at her briefly and nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. "Nice to meet you in person, Ma'am. I can, uh, come back in a few minutes."

She laughed. "Stay, just give me a moment." She adjusted something on her lap and brought up a thin blanket, setting it over the baby and her breast for privacy.

"Bucky was born in 1917," Natasha said. "He's not used to all our newfangled modern ways."

"Obviously," Laura said. "He just called me Ma'am."

He sensed he'd made a faux pas.

"Go get your food," Clint said. "I understand you super serum guys need to eat for four."

Bucky gave a curt nod. The two children—a young girl and a boy a couple of years older—eyed his hand as he walked into the kitchen and retrieved the plate. It was piled with eggs, bacon, and sausage links. A large, powdery biscuit sat precariously at the edge.

He saw a place set with utensils next to Natasha and slipped into the seat. "So, is Ma'am another of those outdated terms I should avoid?"

Laura grinned. "It's fine, just a bit formal. No need for that here, Sergeant Barnes."

"In that case, call me Bucky." He took a heaping spoonful of eggs.

"What happened to your hand?" the boy asked.

"That's Cooper, the nosy one," Clint said, then pointed to his daughter, "and Lila."

The girl smiled and waved. "Are you really a hundred years old?"

Bucky grinned at her. "Ninety-eight, so almost." He turned his gaze to Cooper. "I fell from a train and lost my arm."

Cooper's eyes went wide. "The whole arm?"

"Yep."

"Can I see it?"

"Cooper, let the man eat," Laura said, then looked down at the blanket-covered infant, "This one is Nathaniel."

Natasha leaned forward. "The little traitor was supposed to be a girl. Oh well."

He finished his eggs just as Nathaniel finished his breakfast.

"Would you mind, Aunt Nat?" Laura asked, handing the little one to Natasha.

"Never. I love babies," she cooed down at the boy, "even if they bat for the wrong team. I'm gonna call you Nat, you know that, right?"

Bucky smiled. This was a side of Natasha he hadn't seen. He wondered what her life would have been like without the Red Room.

Laura began clearing the plates, and Bucky rose. "Let me do this."

"Sit down," she chided him.

"No, really. I barged in here in the middle of the night. I'm eating your food. I've been a bump on a log for too long. Let me be useful… please." He walked up and took the stack of plates from her hand.

Laura held up her hands and sank back into her seat. "Okay, thank you, but from what I saw on the news, you're far from a bump on a log."

Bucky moved to the sink and ran the water. He hadn't seen the news. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Ignorance was bliss, and he wanted to hang on to the little bit of bliss he'd managed.

He soaped up the dishes and grabbed the sponge, wiping away the dirt and grease. He found the suds and the sound of running water soothing. After finishing the breakfast dishes, he picked up a coffee-stained white porcelain cup and began scrubbing, careful not to let it slip from his grip.

The cup was heavily used. Dark stains were thick and deeply embedded in what was once a pristine white surface. It would take effort to clean, so he turned off the water. His hands worked the sponge and the suds, and he took special care with his left hand not to accidentally damage the delicate surface.

Watching the stains slowly fade to reveal the shiny surface beneath filled him with warm satisfaction. It was a remarkable thing to take something worn, wash away its stains, and restore it to its former glory.

When he had removed every blotch and dark line, he gently rinsed the mug, moving his thumb over its smooth surface. He held it up to the light to make sure he'd missed nothing.

There you go. Just like new, little buddy.

He was silently talking to a mug. It was quite possible he'd officially lost it.

-0- -0- -0-

"The Geneva Convention and 18 US Code section 2441 apply here," the woman said.

"The Geneva convention wasn't signed until 1949, Miss Williams. I looked it up," Steve said.

Danasha Williams was supposedly one of the best legal minds in the world with a particular specialty on war crimes. Stark paid her retainer. An arrest warrant hadn't been issued for Bucky, but they expected it soon.

"True, but both Germany and Russia committed acts that violated the Geneva convention after they signed. They performed those acts on Sergeant Barnes. I've reviewed the files and footage presented, and we can make a strong case that he did not willfully commit any criminal acts. Criminal prosecution for crimes like murder requires intent or gross negligence—such as firing a gun into a crowd or driving recklessly. He had no intent, because his memory was wiped, and he was programmed for compliance. Gross negligence doesn't apply here. He was a prisoner of war who was subjected to inhumane biological experiments, torture, and mental compulsion."

"That all sounds great, but how likely is it to stick?" Steve asked.

"Unless there's information I don't know that comes out, I think we have a strong legal case," she said. "That's always the catch—unanticipated information that comes out. Seventy years is a long time for skeletons to build up. How sure are you that there are no surprises?"

Steve took a breath. The man she really needed to talk to was Bucky. He'd have to arrange a call or visit. The one surprise he could think of that could cause everything to be tossed out the window was the assassination of JFK. Bucky's defense would be equally valid for that, Steve was sure, but the ripples of that revelation, if it ever got out, could be disastrous.

"When can I speak with Barnes?" Williams asked.

"Does now work? He's got a Stark phone, encrypted and secure."

"That will work. Do you know what his plan is when the arrest warrant is issued?"

"I don't. We didn't discuss it, but with the kind of people who have been looking for him, I'm worried if he is taken into custody, he'll end up in Hydra's hands again or…."

Dead. With the information in Bucky's head, there were a lot of people who would rather he be dead than free.

"I understand that, but, legally, it's better if he cooperates and surrenders. If he breaks no laws now, we won't have to defend against new charges. We won't be able to rely on a lack of intent or willfulness for crimes he commits after he became mentally competent."

-0- -0- -0-

"This is absolutely delicious." Laura cut into another piece of chicken. "How did you learn to cook like this?"

Bucky blushed. "Cooking shows. I've had a lot of time on my hands lately."

Clint and the kids were enjoying the meal, too. Bucky was happy to pull his weight and repay the generosity of his hosts. Natasha had left shortly after breakfast, and he'd spent the day helping Clint with chores around the property.

"Well, thank you for cooking… and after Clint ran you ragged outside," Laura gave Clint a scowl. "Just because he's like Steve doesn't mean you should take advantage of him."

Clint raised his hands placatingly. "He insisted."

With an easy grin, Bucky gave her a wink. "I did. Like I said, it feels good to be useful."

"Yeah, well you brute-forced your way through post holes faster than I've ever seen," Clint remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You're one hell of a farm hand."

"It felt good to work outside." The sun on his face, the warm air, the sound of birds… it was a nice change of pace after being cooped up for so long.

After dinner, Bucky fought and won cleanup duty. Laura, Clint, and the kids retired to the living room while he cleared the table and washed dishes.

He heard his name and stopped the water to look at the television.

"Sergeant James Barnes hasn't been seen in public since leaving a Philadelphia hospital. The FBI announced an hour ago that it has obtained a federal arrest warrant for Barnes for crimes committed in Washington DC almost one year ago."

The image cut to shaky cell phone footage of him as the Winter Soldier, jumping on top of a car, a rifle in his hand. He stared at the image—the mask, the hair, the tactical gear—and wondered if Becca was also seeing these images.

He couldn't look away. It was seconds after he'd shot Natasha. He was about to finish her when Steve ran at him. His metal fist collided with the shield. He kicked Steve, then fired, hitting only the shield. The screen cut to another view, probably from the security camera Steve mentioned. His mask was gone as he ran past the camera, covered in soot and dirt. It was just after Natasha launched the grenade at him to save Steve from a bullet.

"Is that you?" Cooper turned to look at him.

"Cooper, Lila, why don't you go outside and see if we have any eggs?" Clint said.

"But—" Lila protested.

"Eggs now." Clint gave them a hard stare.

The two children shuffled out the door. Bucky turned back to the sink. He heard the channel change, but he couldn't get the images out of his mind. He rarely had an opportunity to see himself from the outside as the Winter Soldier.

He was a monster. That's what Steve saw when they fought. That's what Natasha saw. And now, that's what Becca—and the world—saw.

His phone rang, and he retrieved it from his back pocket. It was Steve with a video request. He answered it and held up the phone.

"Hey, Buck, how you holding up?" Steve tried for a smile, but even on the small screen, it looked forced.

"Clint and Laura are nice."

"Yes, they are."

"Damn straight," Clint piped up.

"And you evaded the question, so I've got my answer," Steve said. "I have good news and bad news."

"The FBI issued an arrest warrant?" Bucky sighed. "I heard. I hope that's the bad news, because if there's more, I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"That's it. I'm sorry, but there's good news. We've got a great lawyer working on your case. Meet Danasha Williams."

He turned the phone over to someone, and a woman with dark skin and short, black hair smiled at him. "Sergeant Barnes, it's nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances. Are you alone?"

"No."

"Is there a place you can go where we can talk privately?

He tilted his head at Clint and Laura, then went to his room and closed the door. "I'm in a private room now."

Williams looked off camera. "Steve, could you give us a moment in private?"

Bucky shook his head. "Whatever you need to say to me, Steve can hear it."

"It's attorney-client privilege, and should you choose to accept, you'll be my client," she told him.

"Stark's paying you?"

"Yes, he paid the retainer, and he's signed appropriate forms about conflicts and the fact that you're my client, despite who pays the bill. That was going to be my first question. Do you consent to my representing you and Stark paying the legal bills?"

He sighed. "I do."

He didn't have much choice. He wished he'd hit more Hydra safe houses and built up greater financial reserves but traveling with too much cash brought its own problems.

He listened to her spiel about what it meant for her to represent him, then they worked out the logistics of paperwork and communication. Finally, they got to the meat and bones of the issue—the arrest warrant.

"I recommend that you turn yourself in. I can negotiate your peaceful surrender. If you cooperate with the authorities, that'll allow me to focus on the defense of your actions as the Winter Soldier without muddying the waters with new charges related to resisting arrest or obstruction of justice."

He understood her reasoning. He also knew he was unlikely to spend much time inside a jail cell.

"If I turn myself in, I'll likely be dead or missing within a week," he told her.

He could handle dead. Missing is what sent his gut into knots. That was a fate worse than death—one he'd already endured. He couldn't allow that to happen.

"I can negotiate proper safeguards."

"I don't think you understand the type of people we're dealing with," he told her. "They infiltrated SHIELD. Some are members of Congress, the cabinet, and the judiciary."

"I understand all of SHIELD's and HYDRA's secrets were exposed and the appropriate arrests made?"

"Not everything was in those files. Hydra used codes. Some things they only stored on paper so there were no digital records."

"Do you have names?"

"Some. Not all. Those I helped gain power."

"Who?"

Bucky hesitated. He didn't know this woman, and while he trusted Steve and Tony to fully vet whoever they brought in, even they were fallible. Dr. Cho's imposter proved that.

"Can I speak with Steve privately?"

She nodded. "Of course."

A moment later, Steve came on, his face anxious. "We're alone. What is it?"

"This lawyer—you're 100% sure about her?"

Steve nodded, and his furrowed brow told Bucky he understood the reason for the question.

"Yes. She's been fingerprinted, scanned, background checked, put through facial and voice recognition searches, and frankly stuff I don't even understand that's between Tony and FRIDAY. You need a lawyer, Buck, and she's got an outstanding reputation. Stark has used her before with excellent results."

"With the arrest warrant, I can't stay here." He wouldn't put the Bartons in jeopardy.

"What if we can get them to agree to house arrest here at the Avenger's compound?"

Bucky nodded. "If they'll agree."

"I'll get Williams and let you two finish your conversation."

-0- -0- -0-

Natasha nestled the Quinjet in the cluster of trees, then she and Steve hoofed it to the house. She gave two taps on the door, then walked in. Steve saw no sign of Bucky, but the kids rounded a corner and ran up to them.

"Aunt Nat!" Lila squealed.

Natasha picked her up and gave her a squeeze.

Laura walked into the room. "Shhh! I just put Nathaniel down for a nap."

"Sorry for the intrusion," Steve said, his voice low. "Thank you for your generosity in hosting Bucky. Where is he?"

Clint came through a doorway, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Behind the barn rebuilding the chicken run." He jerked his chin. "Here he comes. Guess he heard the jet."

The door opened, and Bucky walked inside, covered in dust, dirt, and a fine sheen of sweat. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and a glove on his right hand.

When he saw Steve, he cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "Do I, um, have time to shower?"

Steve smiled, walked forward, and pulled him into a hug. "You smell terrible. Yeah, go shower. Take your time."

"Okay." Bucky gave him a questioning look, then threw a quick smile at Natasha and headed toward the guest room.

"How's he been, Clint?" Steve asked.

"He's been great. He insists on earning his keep and then some. He cooks. He cleans. He builds fences, chops wood, cleans the chicken coop, and he's only been here two days. Frankly, man, he's making me look bad."

Laura smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband from behind, setting her chin on his shoulder. "He cooks better than either of us."

Clint tilted his head to look at her. "And don't think I haven't noticed the looks when he's working outside. The man needs baggier clothes."

"He most certainly does not," Natasha remarked.

Laura cocked an eyebrow at her, then kissed Clint on the cheek. "A gal can't enjoy a change of scenery?" Then she patted him on the ass. "You're still my main squeeze."

"Main squeeze?" He turned to around to face her.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Yep. I have three others, much smaller and only slightly messier."

-0- -0- -0-

The FBI and Williams were waiting in the conference room when the Quinjet arrived at the Avenger's compound. Steve entered first, with Bucky behind him and Natasha taking the rear.

He sensed Bucky stiffen behind him and picked up on the quickened, shallow breathing. Williams stood, her face solemn, and she walked up to them, extending her hand to Bucky.

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Sergeant."

"Barnes or Bucky is fine," he replied, shaking her hand.

One of the suit-clad men approached. "I'm Special Agent Abner with the FBI. I'm here to inform you that you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and your attorney is present. If you could not afford an attorney, one would be provided for you."

Williams interjected. "We've reached a deal for house arrest pending the resolution of your case." She gestured to an empty chair near her. "Would you take a seat, Bucky? There's a bit of paperwork to go through, and then you'll be fitted with an ankle monitor."

Steve could tell Bucky was nervous, and he had every right to be. This was a crap situation all around, but at least Bucky wasn't running, and he would be safe at the compound until they could figure things out.

If it came down to him going to the Raft or some other prison, they'd deal with that.

Bucky slouched in the chair, and Williams pushed a pen and a stack of papers in front of him. She explained each section, paging through and pointing out important elements. He was required to stay within 200 feet of the Avenger's compound unless otherwise authorized. That meant he wouldn't have free range of the entire property. He had to make regular check-ins with an assigned agent and personally appear as required at all meetings and proceedings. Any violation of the terms would result in immediate incarceration.

Once the paperwork was complete, Special Agent Abner set a case on the table and withdrew an ankle monitor.

"Can you place your foot on the chair?" the agent asked.

With an unhappy glance at Steve, Bucky complied, lifting his denim pantleg. The agent adjusted the fit, then secured the monitor.

"Don't tamper with this device," the agent instructed. "It's waterproof. You can shower with it, but do not submerge it in water, as that can interfere with the signal."

Bucky nodded. "Understood."

The agents discussed final details with Williams, then took his fingerprints and mugshot photos. Once the FBI was gone, Steve and Natasha left Bucky alone with Williams for a private meeting.

Thirty minutes later, Williams departed, leaving Bucky looking like a kicked puppy.

"I know this is crummy." Steve placed his hand in the crook of Bucky's neck and gave a supportive squeeze. "It'll work out."

The look on Bucky's face indicated he was skeptical, but he managed an acknowledging twitch of his lips, then walked out of the conference room.

"He's gone nonverbal again," Natasha noted.

Steve stared at the doorway where Bucky had disappeared. "I'll make sure he's never locked up again."

"You can't promise that, Steve."

He turned to face her. "The hell I can't. If it comes down to it, we'll run. Bucky means more to me than being Captain America. If we have to go underground, disguise ourselves, and find some corner of the world to hide out like hoboes until Thanos comes, we will. Then we'll fight and, if we survive, we'll go back underground."

She studied him a moment, then nodded. "I have connections if you need new identities."

"Thanks, Natasha." He gave her an appreciative smile. "I hope it doesn't come to that, but it's good to know you're in our corner."

"He doesn't deserve to be locked up. I don't want to see that happen, either."

-0- -0- -0-

Bucky spent the next week in a chaotic whirlwind—interrogations with his lawyer present, two independent court-ordered psychological evaluations, and meetings with his attorney.

At least he didn't have to deal with the media. Stark took care of that. Bucky knew there were interview requests, but beyond that, he wasn't involved. He assumed Stark gave standard rejections to all. Thanks to the upgraded security installed after the war games, reporters and other trespassers couldn't get close to the compound without being detected.

If it wasn't for Steve, Bucky wouldn't bother. He'd disappear halfway around the world. There were still a few Hydra sympathizers with money that could be repurposed, but if he left, Steve would look for him and, with an alien invasion on the horizon, that would be a potentially disastrous distraction.

So, he'd cooperate, make things as easy as he could for Steve and the Avengers, even if it meant sitting through a barrage of intensely personal questions from strangers, wearing an ankle monitor that was so useless it was laughable—if he wanted to tear it off and flee, he'd be gone before anyone got close—and waiting for a trial that was sure to be a new kind of hell.

He was on the roof now, in his usual spot, enjoying the early morning air. His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. The caller ID identified his attorney.

"Hello, Miss Williams," he answered.

"Mr. Barnes, do you have a few minutes to talk now?"

"Yeah." He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but he wasn't entirely successful.

It's not like he had anything to do outside of meeting with agents, therapists, and lawyers.

"With the documentation and video footage Stark provided—"

The what? Bucky leaned forward in the chair. "What footage?"

"Footage of experiments Hydra performed on you. It was recovered from operations involving Hydra bases. I thought you knew."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I didn't."

"It's valuable, exonerating evidence," she explained.

"Fine." It was too late to do anything about it, and even if it wasn't, no lawyer could effectively defend him without showcasing the worst that Hydra had done to him.

He was no stranger to humiliation. Having the people around him see what had been done to him would never be worse than going through it with his own flesh and blood.

"I think they're considering the ramifications of a trial and the difficulties in proving, beyond a reasonable doubt, that you had the requisite mental state to be found guilty of the charges against you," Williams explained. "Has Stark or Rogers spoken with you about their conversations with the Office of the President?"

"Of the United States?" Bucky asked. Money really could buy connections.

"Yes. President Ellis. Stark helped save his life. He and Rogers have held conversations with the President about a pending national security threat. I'm not privy to the details, but apparently it's substantial enough to get the President's attention."

The alien invasion. Bucky leaned back in his chair and eyed the clouds above. They were out there, somewhere, maybe even already on their way.

"Anyway," Williams continued, "the President's willing to consider a pardon. I don't want to get your hopes up. It's not anywhere near a sure thing, and there are a lot of players—family members of the victims, the media, advocacy groups. It's politically sensitive. You're going to be summoned before Congress for a hearing. They'll ask you questions about things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier, information you possess that's relevant to national security or has strategic value. Some of the proceedings will be closed. Some parts will be televised, mostly because the politicians want to put on a show for their constituents."

"Congress?" Bucky had no idea what testifying before Congress entailed. He envisioned a room full of suits, probably cameras, how many Congressmen were there? "All of them?"

"No, I'm sorry. I should be more specific. The senate committee on Homeland Security and Government Affairs and the committee on Veterans Affairs. One day each."

"I don't have a choice about this, do I?" he asked.

"No, not if you want to avoid imprisonment."

"When and where?"

"I'll send you the details."

"Great." He heard the roof door open and looked over his shoulder to see Steve. "I'll be there," he said into the phone. "Is that all?"

"For now. Check your email. I'm sending additional documents for your review, and we can talk again when you've had a chance to look at them."

"Thanks," he said flatly, then ended the call and stood to face Steve. "Something up?"

"Just brunch." Steve gave a too-bright smile. "You interested in joining us?"

Bucky shook his head. "I'll be miserable company right now. I'll grab something later."

"You remember that time I caught a nasty flu, my mom had to work, and you kept me company?

"Um…you're gonna have to narrow it a down. You caught influenza a few times, barely survived."

"I know. I was miserable. I might have called you a couple of names when you tried to spoon feed me."

"Oh." Bucky smiled at the memory. He'd been scared shitless that Steve wouldn't pull through, but Rogers was too ornery to quit. "I might."

"Miserable company or not, I'm returning the favor. You can cuss me out all the same but consider this payback." Steve slipped his phone out of his pocket and texted someone. "You and I are having brunch here."

"On the roof?"

"Yep. It's being brought up."

"You're not gonna try to spoon feed me, are you?" His smile was genuine as he held up a metal fist. "Because I've got a metal arm that packs a wallop."

-0- -0- -0-

Arriving at the Capitol, the crush of bodies, cameras, flash bulbs, and microphones sent Bucky into shut down mode. He followed Steve, focusing straight ahead, aware of Stark's footsteps close behind. Natasha and Sam were on either side of him, forming a cocoon of Avengers.

He was grateful for the buffer. Being surrounded and bombarded by questions made every muscle in his body tense, so he kept his hands in his pockets rather than risk striking out if a camera got too close.

The code words might be gone, but the reflexes were still there.

Half an hour later, he was inside the senate chamber, sitting at a table in front of a microphone, facing a group of senators behind their respective microphones. Steve was on his right, his attorney and Stark on the left. Sam and Natasha were seated two rows behind. A glass of water was on the table in front of him.

Atwood.

Bucky locked eyes with Senator Atwood, and the thrum of voices behind him faded under the cold grip of dread. Whatever was about to happen, her agenda would be to protect herself and Hydra secrets. There was a pad and pen in front of him. He scribbled on it, words small enough for Steve and his lawyer to see but shielded from other prying eyes and the collection of cameras behind and in front of him.

He caught the realization on Steve's face, then scribbled over the name.

His lawyer leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Hydra?"

He gave a curt nod.

"Proof?" she asked, again in a whisper.

He shrugged. Other than names of people he took out as the Winter Soldier to help her gain power, he couldn't prove she was Hydra. In the secrets Romanoff released, her name must not have appeared. Hydra often used codes. He was always referred to as the Asset, the Fist of Hydra, or the Winter Soldier, never James Barnes in digital files.

Hydra was extremely careful with anything hackable.

"Sergeant Barnes, Good morning." Senator Brickman, chairperson of the Homeland Security and Government Affairs Committee leaned into his mic. "Now that the preliminaries are done, I want to make sure you're aware that this morning's session is televised and open to reporters. We'll conclude with lunch and reconvene for a private session in the afternoon to discuss matters related to national security. If you need a short break at any time, please speak up. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Bucky replied flatly.

"Can you state your full name and date of birth for the record?"

"James Buchanan Barnes, March 10, 1917."

He spent the next 90 minutes going over everything the public already knew about him—when he joined the army, what unit he served with, his initial capture by German Hydra soldiers serving under Schmidt, his rescue by Steve, the formation of the Howling Commandos, and the mission to capture Zola that resulted in his "death."

"If I may," Senator Travis from Texas began, "I'd like to go back to your captivity under Schmidt. You mentioned Dr. Zola experimented on you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were those experiments designed to turn you into a super soldier like Captain Rogers?"

"That's my understanding."

"But at the time, did you know the purpose of the experiments?"

"No."

"Did you have any suspicions?"

"No. I expected someone would ask me questions about the Allied forces, but no one ever did."

"Do you remember what was done to you during that time?"

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn't thought about those early days in Zola's lab in decades. "Yes."

"And what do you remember?"

"They dragged me into a dark room, strapped me to a table, put something in my mouth, and stuck needles into me."

"Do you know what they injected you with?"

"No, sir."

"How many injections did you receive?"

Bucky wasn't sure why the senator was wasting time on such details.

"I'm not sure. I wasn't conscious all the time. I remember three."

"What do you remember about those three?"

"They hurt. A lot."

"The needles or the effects of the injection?"

"The effects."

"What else did they do?"

"There was a machine that came down to my head. It produced an electric current, I think."

"This was Dr. Zola?"

"Yes, and a couple of other scientists and guards."

"And they never asked you questions?"

"They never asked me questions of a military nature."

"But they asked you other questions?"

"Yes."

"Can you elaborate?"

"I was repeating my name, rank, and serial number. It's what I was trained to do. He kept asking me who I was, and every time I gave my name, rank, and serial number, he hit me with the electricity."

"Did he—"

Senator Brickman interrupted, "The Senator from Texas has used his allotted time. We'll move next to Senator Atwood."

Senator Atwood leaned forward. "First, let me thank you for your service to our country, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky stared at her. He wasn't going to play her game. A flicker of anxiety crossed her face, which told him she was as nervous about his presence as he was about hers. That was good information. With Hydra in shambles, her position was vulnerable.

"Um, I just have a few questions," she continued. "I understand you remember your time with Hydra?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"I think so. I wouldn't know if there was something I didn't remember."

"If you remember your time with Hydra, then you were aware of what you were doing during that time, is that correct?" she asked.

"Yes."

A low murmur ran through the crowd.

She smiled. "No more questions on my end."

Williams leaned into her microphone. "I request that Sergeant Barnes be allowed to expand on that answer."

The chairman nodded. "He can have one minute."

Bucky glanced at his attorney. This wasn't a trial, but it was beginning to feel like one, especially with Atwood on the panel.

"Hydra wiped my memories and programmed me to comply. I was aware of what I was doing. A soldier who wasn't aware would be in a vegetative state and useless. So, yes, my brain was functioning. I knew what a gun was. I knew how to fight. I knew who my targets were. I had no memory of who I was. I had no choice in refusing the order."

Brickman leaned into the microphone. "Can you expand on your statement that you had no choice. What would have happened if you refused?"

Bucky sighed. How was he supposed to explain mind control to people who had never seen it except in bad movies? "I wasn't able to refuse. Anyone who said the code words controlled me."

Atwood tilted her head skeptically. "Come on, Sergeant, you want us to believe that some magic words overrode your will? That even though you were aware of what you were doing, you were merely a puppet?"

"Senator Atwood, you were not recognized," Brickman chided.

She leaned back in her chair.

Bucky stared at her, aware of the cameras behind him. He'd helped put her in power, and he had a duty to help remove that power. Every day she held office was a day she had to abuse her position.

Everything he said was being broadcast to the world. "You know that's true, Senator. How many of your enemies died or disappeared to pave the way for you to take that seat? The New York Times reporter Janice Collins was researching a story about your questionable finances when Hydra ordered her assassinated and her research destroyed."

The murmur of the crowd rose, and Brickman chided the spectators to be quiet.

"Are you making—" Atwood began, but Bucky talked over her.

"Your political opponent Trevor Shilo was leading in the polls during your first political race. Hydra ordered his wife assassinated. It looked like an accident, but you and Shilo knew it wasn't. He withdrew from the race. He had two children left to think about."

"These are baseless accusations meant to deflect." She rose form her seat. "You have no proof because these are lies."

He looked at her calmly. "I'm under oath. I'm testifying that the Winter Soldier was the one Hydra sent to assassinate Shilo and Collins on your behalf. I killed them. Collins' death was ruled an accident—a fire in her home—but if authorities exhume her body, they'll find blade marks on the heel of her right foot and two broken fingers on her left hand. The wound on her heel was made to look like she stepped in glass. If they compare it to the marks on the bone, they'll realize it was a knife. Her fingers were deemed broken during her attempts to escape the fire. I inflicted those injuries on her during my interrogation to ensure no copies of her research remained."

The room was bleakly silent for two seconds, then chaos erupted around—voices, flash bulbs, the sound of low, urgent voices.

Brickman called for order, threatened to clear the room, and the chaos subsided. Atwood's face was white, her jaw hard, but her eyes revealed her fear. Whether he could prove his allegations or not, the net was cast. The story was out there. People would begin digging into her, and the house of cards she'd built would come crumbling down.

He hoped.

If authorities did exhume Collins' body, they'd find exactly what he said they would. He couldn't go back and change what he'd done to that young journalist, but at least he was able to let the world know that she died doing her job—acting as a watchdog for society, trying to preserve America's democracy.

She had done it so well that Hydra had her killed.

Atwood leaned forward. "Sergeant Barnes, you're confessing to murder."

Williams spoke up quickly. "My client confessed to killing, not murder. Murder is a legal definition with elements that have not been proven in a court of law. Sergeant Barnes had no ability to resist Hydra's orders. He was a victim."

Atwood's face went from pale to red. "Chairman, I must be allowed to respond to these allegations."

Brickman took a deep breath. "You have three minutes."

She typed on a laptop in front of her, then spoke to a man standing by a large television screen near the wall. "Will you bring up footage from the Triskelion, I believe the file is JB5T."

The tech nodded and the screen flared to life. Bucky held his breath when he saw himself as the Winter Soldier outside the Triskelion.

He watched as he systematically took out Roger's entire air support, killing man after man. He bit the inside of his cheek when he watched himself kick one of the men into the jet engine. With the fire, smoke, and wind blowing his hair, his face was mostly obscured, but it was obviously him.

"That's you, right?" Atwood asked.

"Yes." He turned a hard gaze on her.

"You were aware that you were killing men trying to help your friend, Captain Rogers?"

"I was aware that I was killing men," he replied carefully. "I did not remember that Captain Rogers was a friend. The Winter Soldier had no friends, no family, no past."

"Ah, yes, here's something." Tony pulled out a handheld tablet and, within seconds, the image on the screen changed. "Since we're on the topic of memories and compliance, this might help clear things up."

Bucky stiffened when he saw himself in the chair in the bank vault with scientists and armed guards.

Atwood was out of her seat. "Are you hacking our computers, Mr. Stark?"

"Nope, just syncing to your display," he replied casually as the video began to play.

Bucky stared down at the glass of water in front of him. He listened as he flung bodies, heard the guns cock, then the murmur of voices.

"Sir? He… he's unstable. Erratic."

He heard footsteps, knew that Pierce and Rumlow were walking in. He glanced up only long enough to confirm that the screen showed Pierce standing in front of him. Bucky knew what was next.

The entire room was about to see just how much Hydra had broken him. As the Winter Soldier, he could've taken out everyone in that room. Instead, he submitted. He let them push him back into that chair and wipe him.

When Pierce slapped him, a shocked murmur erupted. When Pierce ordered him wiped again and his screams filled the room, the room was chillingly silent.

When Stark ended the connection, the silence lingered. Bucky kept his gaze on the glass of water.

"Anyone want to argue how much of a choice Barnes had?" Stark asked. "Here's something else. Hydra ordered my parents assassinated. They sent Barnes—the Winter Soldier—to do it. If I had even the slightest doubt that he had a choice in that, I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting beside him right now."

Williams stiffened beside Bucky and threw an unhappy glance at Stark.

"It's ten minutes to noon," Brickman said, his voice soft. "We're breaking for lunch. We'll resume at one for the closed session. I'm ordering the chamber cleared."

-0- -0- -0-

Steve caught Natasha and Sam's eyes, and they fell into formation around him as he guided Bucky through the pandemonium of reporters to a private room nearby. Heavy doors sealed them inside.

Bucky's shoulders sagged, hands in his pockets, and his gaze on the floor. He offered no resistance as Steve maneuvered him into a chair at the table. Brown bags with an enticing aroma told Steve one of Tony's staff had delivered lunch for them.

"Tell me something, Buck." Steve dropped into the nearest chair and faced his friend. "If this is too much, I don't care what I have to do, I'll end it for today."

Steve was feeling a dozen emotions but tried to keep them all out of his voice. He was both angry at and grateful to Stark. He wanted to pull Atwood apart with his bare hands.

And he was still reeling from having to watch and hear—again—what was done to Bucky. He tried not to imagine how much pain that machine inflicted to cause Hydra's brutally conditioned Winter Soldier—Bucky—to scream like that.

Bucky looked up at him, his expression flat. "I'm fine. I don't have a choice." He glanced at Williams questioningly.

"Not legally," she confirmed. "Unless you're medically unable to continue."

"Let's just get it over with."

She nodded. "And, please, no one disclose any more murders that Barnes allegedly committed during his time as the Winter Soldier."

Stark looked suitably apologetic. Steve rifled through the bags and set out the food. He pushed a container of rice and teriyaki chicken and a pair of plastic utensils in front of Bucky, then set a bottle of water to the side.

Everyone else dug in. The hum of conversation rose. Sam, Natasha, and Tony exchanged barbs, but Natasha shot concerned glances at Bucky. Williams was busy on her phone. Steve kept an eye on Bucky.

He hated what this was doing to his friend. Bucky took a few bites of food, drained the water, but otherwise seemed uninterested in anything around him. Bucky was in shutdown mode. Steve had seen it enough over the past six months to recognize the defense mechanism.

He knew he needed to give Bucky space despite every cell in his body screaming at him to do the opposite. So, he ate in silence and watched Bucky pick at his food, taking half-hearted bites and pushing the rest around.

"Mr. Barnes," Williams looked up from her phone, "I'm fielding requests from reporters for interviews. I take it you're still refusing all interviews?"

Bucky nodded absently, not bothering to look up as he continued to push the food around in the container.

"I know we've already been over this, but do you want to spend time preparing for the next session?" she asked.

"No." Bucky responded flatly.

"Are you okay to continue?" she asked, a gentler shift to her tone. "I need to know. If you can't give your best testimony, say something."

He looked up at her finally. "I spent decades in Hydra's sadistic control. It'll take more than a few politicians in suits asking questions to break me."

Bucky's phone rang, and he withdrew it from his pocket. His eyes went murky when he glanced at the caller ID, then took a breath and answered, "Becca?"

Steve could just make out the woman's soft voice.

"Bucky, I watched the hearing. I…I…" Her voice quivered.

"I wish you hadn't." Bucky closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"It breaks my heart to know they did those things to you, and for so long." Her voice trembled.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause you more pain," Bucky whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you have to get back soon. I just wanted to make sure you know I love you, and no matter what happens, nothing will ever change that. I miss you. I'll pray for you."

Bucky took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. "I love you, too, Becca. Thank you."

-0- -0- -0-

After lunch, they were back in the chambers, this time without the reporters.

"Sergeant Barnes, your lawyer has stated you are willing to provide a list of all Hydra missions you participated in, with details of objectives, targets, and outcomes," Senator Brickman began. "Is that true?"

"I'll tell you what I can."

And hope to hell it's enough, he noted silently. He hadn't discussed his biggest mission with Williams. It wasn't identifiable in the secrets dumped on the Internet.

It was called Operatsiya Narushitel'. Operation Interloper. The elimination of John F. Kennedy and his opposition to the Berlin Wall. If the world found out, he'd never know peace. There'd be reporters, movies, books, and talk shows hounding him for the rest of his days.

The revelation could lead to a dangerous conflict between the United States and Russia that might prove disastrous in the wake of the looming global threat. Two superpowers bumping chests with one another would make Earth easy pickings for Thanos.

On the other hand, didn't Kennedy's relatives and the world deserve to know the truth?

Bucky glanced at Steve—the only person he knew he could confide in about his dilemma because Steve already knew. They'd never discussed it, but Bucky had heard it in Steve's voice and seen it in his eyes when Sam suggested watching the movie with Kevin Costner.

What would Steve do?

Bucky looked down at the table in front of him. Steve would tell the truth. That's what Steve did. Consequences be damned.

Steve saw the world in black and white.

Bucky's world had been gray for so long, he wasn't sure he knew what black and white looked like, anymore.

"I was under the impression you remembered everything from your time with Hydra," Brickman responded.

"Sometimes I didn't know the name of the person I was sent to kill. I wouldn't know if there's something I've forgotten. They fried my brain repeatedly over seventy years."

Plausible deniability. It gave him time to decide. He sure as hell wouldn't be able to go over every mission Hydra sent him on in the few hours remaining.

"My client is prepared to cooperate, of course, but he invokes his Fifth Amendments rights," Williams said. "Pending immunity or a pardon, of course."

The senator's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward. "My understanding was that Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Stark, and Captain Rogers are prepared to testify today about information pertinent to matters of national security."

"I am." Tony held up a hand. "You summoned him here, which of course you have every right to do, but given just about everything you want to ask him would possibly incriminate him, there's that pesky Fifth Amendment thing the very expensive lawyer here referenced."

Atwood spoke up. "He already incriminated himself, and let's not be coy. We have him on video."

Bucky sat quietly while the others traded legal barbs until, finally, he was asked a direct question.

"Okay, Sergeant Barnes, are you at least prepared to provide names of people you allege," Senator Brickman began, giving a quick glance at Atwood, "are Hydra affiliates?"

Bucky glanced at Williams. She cocked her head.

"I am," he answered, looking back at the Senator.

"I object, Senator," Atwood protested. "This would lead to nothing more than an unfounded witch hunt. We cannot take the word of an unstable killer over esteemed members of our own government."

Brickman nodded at her. "I understand your concerns. Obviously, this information will only be used to direct investigations to determine the truth or falsity of the allegations."

"Before we begin, I'd like to probe into the Sergeant's mental state," Atwood asked.

"Five minutes," Brickman conceded.

She leveled a smile at Bucky. "Sergeant, I understand there were code words that controlled you?"

"Yes."

"But they no longer control you?"

"That is correct."

"How were you freed of them?"

"A specialist."

"Name of the specialist?"

"I signed a nondisclosure agreement." Bucky had promised to keep Wakanda technology a secret. He wasn't about to break that promise.

"Convenient," Atwood replied, her gaze skeptical. "So, you have no proof?"

Steve leaned into his mic. "I can confirm Sergeant Barnes' testimony."

"As do I," Stark said.

"Thank you," Atwood sighed, "but the question was not directed to either of you. We'll get to you both later to discuss the pending threat you have managed to convince the President exists." She returned her attention to Bucky. "Are you currently a threat to society, Sergeant?"

Bucky met her gaze firmly. "No. I'm not a killer." Anymore.

"You're mentally stable."

He wouldn't go that far.

"I don't have the urge to kill anyone, if that's what you're asking."

"How can we be so sure something won't trigger you?"

"Bucky has been with us—" Steve began.

"I wasn't asking you, Captain Rogers," Atwood interrupted.

With a sigh, Steve leaned back and levelled a hard look at Atwood.

"The only thing that triggers me is the cost of things today," Bucky replied. "One beer at a restaurant costs almost half of what I made in a week in the army."

The Senators—all but Atwood—chuckled.

"I'm glad to hear that," Atwood replied. "Perhaps you can clarify something for me. You shouldn't have to incriminate yourself to do so. Since you have knowledge of Hydra supporters, can you identify a man for me?"

Bucky tilted his head.

Atwood nodded at the tech by the screen. A video clip of a man with graying temples and hard eyes, wearing a Soviet officer's uniform, came onscreen.

"On vypolnit lyuboy prikaz, kotoryy ya yemu dam?" the man asked. He will comply with any order I give him?

Breath that smelled of tobacco. Yellow teeth….

The meager lunch in Bucky's stomach came back up. He managed to get it into the trashcan beneath the table. A hand gripped his shoulder.

Calloused fingers grabbing his chin. A bracing hand on his shoulder….

He lashed out at the figure behind him, scrambled away, the murmur of voices and crush of bodies were suffocating.

-0- -0- -0-

Steve threw Atwood a look that promised retribution, then ran after Bucky, following him through the double doors and into the mass of reporters. They erupted in chaos, flash bulbs lighting the area like fireworks. Bucky reeled away, and Steve grabbed his friend's shirt jacket and hauled him forward, past the thongs of journalists and into the nearest men's bathroom.

He heard Sam behind him. "I'll keep them out, Cap!"

Inside, Bucky tore aware from him, careening past the empty urinals toward the first stall, which was thankfully vacant. Steve quickly checked the other stalls and saw a pair of feet in the last one.

When that door opened, Steve eyed the man. "I'm going to need you to get out of here as quickly as you can."

The man nodded frantically, bypassing the faucets as he hurried out of the restroom.

"It's clear." Steve moved back to the first stall, but Bucky slammed it closed.

"Leave," Bucky grunted.

Steve slid down to the floor, resting his back against the stall door. "Just one question, Buck. Is that guy still alive?"

"No."

Too damn bad. He hoped the man's death hadn't been an easy one.

"Please, go." Bucky's voice was barely a whimper.

"Okay." Rising to his feet, Steve took a breath. He closed his eyes, clenched his hands into fists, and took a few seconds to steady himself.

He had to get back into the chambers and deal with the senators. He'd give Bucky the space he needed, for a few minutes, at least. As he walked out the door, he was grateful to see Sam standing guard, keeping the reporters and anyone with a full bladder away.

"Hey," Steve put a hand on Sam's shoulder, "can you keep an ear on him and make sure no one gets in?" He jerked his chin toward the restroom interior. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Not a problem," Sam said with a curt nod.

-0- -0- -0-

"It'll take more than a few politicians in suits asking questions to break me."

Bucky almost choked on the bitter chuckle that erupted from him as his words echoed tauntingly in his mind. He hadn't even made it half an hour into the session, and he was hiding on the floor in a stall of the men's bathroom.

Pathetic.

He'd given the reporters quite the show. They were still outside, cameras ready for the second he emerged. He was used to operating in the shadows. Now the entire world saw him. All he wanted was anonymity.

There was freedom in being unknown.

He'd given Atwood exactly what she wanted—a reaction. She'd undone him with a few seconds of video.

Fuck Atwood.

He'd helped give her the power she now wielded. He'd be damned if he let her beat him or anyone else with it again. He got to his feet, unlocked the stall door, and marched to the sink.

Turning on the faucet, he washed his mouth out quickly, then splashed cool water on his face. He grabbed a paper towel and dried off, gave himself a quick once over in the mirror, straightened his shoulders, then pulled open the door.

Sam turned to him. "Oh, hey, man, are you—"

Bucky marched passed Sam. The reporters surrounded him, battering him with flash bulbs and questions. He pushed through them, his hands at his side, his eyes on the door to the chambers. He heard Sam's voice behind him, urging the reporters back, asking for distance.

Seconds later, he was inside the chambers. Steve was standing at the table and stopped mid-sentence, turning toward him, surprise flickering over his face.

"Bucky, I was just in the middle of explaining that we need to continue this another day."

Keeping his eyes on Atwood, Bucky walked to the table. "You want me to identify that man, but you already know his identity, Senator Atwood. His name was Colonel Andrei Galkin. You know why I know him, and that's why you chose him and this clip. He was Hydra. One of the worst. A murderer. A rapist. A sadist. He used me in 1992 to train five more super soldiers. He used me for other things, but you know that, too."

The shock on Atwood's face gave him the only satisfaction he'd felt all day. She hadn't expected him to call her bluff. The expression on the other senators' faces told him they hadn't known.

He tilted his head. "How did you get this clip, Senator?"

Her face went white. "I…um…my aide provided it. I assume it was part of the information dump after the helicarrier incident."

Gotcha. Her reaction told him she'd gotten it from one of her remaining Hydra contacts. It was not part of the files Romanoff leaked. Like a cornered animal after his accusations earlier, Atwood had reached out, hoping to find something she could yield as a weapon to make him appear unhinged.

Instead, she'd incriminated herself. She wasn't very smart, which is why Hydra liked her. She could be controlled.

Brickman gave a deep sigh. "Sergeant Barnes, thank you for your testimony today. I understand from Captain Rogers you aren't feeling well, and that's understandable. I think we're done, but we can work out the details with your lawyer if we need you back. Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark, I'll agree to release you both if you'll agree to re-appear at a later date to testify what you witnessed related to Barnes and the Winter Soldier…and, of course, what you know about the other looming national security issue you've discussed with the President."

"Agreed," Tony and Steve said in unison.

Brickman nodded. "Sergeant Barnes, you're free to go home. I apologize for the distress today has caused you." He cast a disapproving glance at Atwood.

Bucky nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"FRIDAY, bring the limo around," Tony said to whatever piece of equipment on him was listening. "Jesus, let's get out of here."

Bucky walked toward the doors, and Steve ran to get in front of him, pushing through and clearing a path through the reporters. The flash bulbs resumed their assault on his eyes. The questions were unrelenting. He followed Steve outside, saw the waiting limo, and ducked inside. Stark, Sam, Williams, and Natasha followed.

The limo pulled away.

Hill turned to them from the driver's seat. "The compound?"

"Yes," Steve answered.

"Feds are tailing us," Hill announced.

Stark opened the window, waved at the black sedan behind them, then closed it. He reached into a cabinet facing the L-shaped seats and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a cluster of shot glasses.

"Who's up for taking the edge off?" He started pouring and handed the first glass to Bucky. "Barnes, I know this might as well be water to you. Ever try weed?"

"No." Bucky downed the whiskey and watched the scenery crawl by outside as Hill maneuvered the clunky vehicle through D.C. traffic.

Wordlessly, Stark refilled the glass, and Bucky downed it again.

"Here, take the whole damn thing." Stark shoved the bottle into his hand. "You look like you need it. Maybe if you drink it fast enough, you'll even feel it." Stark took a quick, angry breath. "FRIDAY, dig into Senator Atwood. The full workup. Find out where that video came from. She's tied to Hydra, and I want hard evidence."

Stark's nonstop chatter stood in contrast to the silence from the others. Bucky studiously avoided Steve's gaze, though he could feel the weight of those blue eyes and the questions left unanswered behind them ever since the mission to free Sam and Pepper, when Ivanov had used that word…

'plaything….'

You promised you'd never bring it up again, Steve. Bucky took a swig from the bottle. Let it go.