Chapter 31: Some Things Can't Be Fixed
"I'm worried about him. I haven't seen him leave his room for two days. He keeps his door locked, tells anyone who knocks to leave him alone. The staff put meals outside his door and take away the empty plates."
Natasha heard Steve's voice filtering into the hallway from Dr. Abodon's office. The door was open, and as she passed, she cast a quick glance inside. Steve was perched on the arm of a plush chair, his arms crossed, looking sideways at Dr. Abodon seated behind the desk.
Steve caught her passing glance. She heard the door click shut and knew that Steve's bull-headed stubbornness to try to fix things was likely to make this situation worse. Barnes was in a dark place, one she recognized because she'd been there herself.
She was about to take the stairs when she heard the heavy thud of footsteps and stopped with a sigh.
"Steve." She turned and cocked her head at him. "I didn't hear much."
"It's not that." He came to a stop in front of her. "I know you sometimes roam at night. Have you seen him at all?"
Poor Steve. He was out of his element on this, and she didn't quite know how to break the news to him. "No." She decided on the direct approach. "Have you considered that maybe he needs you to give him space?"
"I'm giving him space!" Steve looked indignant. "I haven't kicked down the door yet."
She smiled patiently. "He's your best friend. You grew up together. He sees you like a brother."
"The feeling's mutual."
"I know." She put a hand on Steve's hard shoulder. "He doesn't want you to see him differently."
"I don't think any less—"
"Differently. I didn't say less."
Steve's jaw went slack, his eyes distant. Then he focused on her. "You know because…?"
Really, Steve? "He's not the only one whose had his body violated in many different ways."
The flash of anguish and concern on Steve's face was exactly the expression she knew Barnes was avoiding.
"I'm sorry, Nat—"
She slapped him on the arm. "Stop it. That's why he's holed up, licking his wounds, avoiding the hell out of you."
"So, what should I do?"
"Try not to fix things. When you see him, don't treat him with kid gloves. If you do, he'll think you see him as weak, broken."
With a deep breath and what appeared to be a monumental internal effort, Steve nodded and dropped his shoulders. "Dr. Abodon said something similar."
"Smart man." She gave him a pat on the arm. "Have faith in your friend. He's proven that no matter how often he gets knocked down, he picks himself back up. Kind of like someone else I know." She winked and kissed him on the cheek. "I've got an errand to run. I'll see you around."
"Thanks, Nat."
"Anytime." She turned and headed to the stairs, taking them quickly.
She went to Barnes' door and knocked twice, feeling slightly hypocritical after what she'd just told Steve, but she knew from experience that sometimes the only way to climb out of a dark hole was to have someone who'd already been there show you the way.
She knocked again but got no answer. "Barnes, Steve's about to have an aneurysm or kick this door down. I can't kick it down as easily, but you know I can pick the lock."
When she heard nothing, she grew concerned. "You better be alive in there."
"I'm alive. Go away."
She smiled and tried the knob. It was locked. "I just need five minutes then I'll leave you alone. If you're doing anything you don't want me to walk in on, now's the time to stop."
When the silence continued, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a tool, making short work of the simple lock. The individual rooms weren't as secured as the exterior of the building with the assumption that anyone this far into the Avenger's complex had clearance.
With a push, she cracked the door open and peeked inside. Barnes was on the floor next to his bed, back against the wall, eyeing her angrily. His eyes were red-rimmed, and it looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"I should've stayed in the Veronica Room. Easier to keep people out," he grumbled.
She slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and sat on the floor to his right. "Atwood's going down. Stark traced the source of the video to a Hydra agent named Eli Kariski. He's on the most wanted list for several agencies. We have copies of texts and call logs between them. She used a burner phone, but Stark triangulated positions and traced the time and source to the US Capitol Building, the day of the senate hearing. Between that and your testimony, the FBI has launched an investigation. It's all over the news."
Bucky remained silent, but she sensed a subtle shift in his posture—a release of tension from his shoulders and arms. She stayed there in the silence next to him for several minutes, taking in his room. The open laptop on the desk, its screen dark. The bed still made, but the comforter crinkled as though he was simply laying on top of it. A pile of clothes in the corner. An empty food tray near the door.
His phone beeped, and she looked down to see it on the floor next to his left leg. As the screen flared to life, she spotted the notifications showing 20 missed calls, 35 texts, and five voice messages. He hadn't answered any of them.
"This will always be with you," she said softly, "but it does not define you."
He didn't move or speak, but she heard a hitch in his breathing.
"When the Red Room had me," she continued, "they owned me. Every part of me. My body was a piece of equipment, to be used, modified, and trained as they saw fit. There's a graduation ceremony for Widows. They sterilize you. It makes things easier. Then they start using your body—to reward allies, seduce enemies, eliminate threats." Her voice trembled on the last words, and she took a breath.
His warm hand slipped over hers, and she gripped his massive palm.
"Clint found me, spared my life, helped me get out." She thought of that initiation mission—the little girl—and closed her eyes against the painful memory. "I was in a dark hole for a while. Believe me, Barnes, you don't want to stay in it too long. It only gets deeper and darker."
He squeezed her hand. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
After several moments, his gravelly voice broke the still silence. "I thought we were on a first name basis?"
She smiled. "Okay, Bucky. I'll leave you alone now like I promised. Just don't stay behind your door for too long. I wasn't kidding about Steve, and Stark's getting grouchy about repairs."
-0- -0- -0-
When Natasha left, Bucky locked the door behind her and leaned against it for a few moments. He was tired, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Galkin. Sometimes, he could swear he smelled the man's rancid tobacco breath.
With a push, he veered toward the shower and let the hard spray pound against his closed eyelids. He lost himself for some time, his eyes snapping open when he realized he'd practically fallen asleep on his feet. He toweled off, dressed, then threw the pile of dirty clothes in the hamper.
Grabbing the phone, he took a deep sigh. He wasn't quite ready to deal with Steve or the others, but he might as well see if any of the messages were important. Some were from his lawyer. He assumed if he was summoned anywhere, Steve or someone would have actually knocked down his door.
He ran through the texts—from Steve, Becca, Jimmy, Sam, Tony, Williams, and Dr. Abodon. He answered the most pressing ones from his lawyer about his pending appointments. His appearance before the Veterans Affairs Committee was in two days.
Great.
Becca and Jimmy were worried. He rubbed at his forehead, guilt gnawing at him. It wasn't right to make his sister worry, not at her age and in her condition. With a resigned sigh, he dialed her number.
"Bucky? Is that you? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Becca, I'm okay. I got your messages. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner."
"I saw you on the news when you left the chambers. Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to testify on your behalf?"
He smiled at the sweet naiveté of her offer. "No, Becca. Thank you."
"Senator Atwood is going to get arrested, I hope."
"Maybe."
"Is the President going to pardon you?"
"I don't know, Becca. How are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm fine. Don't you worry about me, Jim… Bucky. Reporters keep calling us—me and Jimmy, mostly. They want to know about you, what you were like. They ask Jimmy how he feels about being named after you, and he says he's proud to be named after a hero who sacrificed himself to save the world from Hitler and Hydra."
The warmth in her voice almost broke his tenuous control. He didn't feel like a hero. He was just a guy who'd done his job and got captured…twice.
"Thank him for me, Becca. I'm sorry this has affected your lives. I didn't want that."
"Stop it right now. Don't you worry about us. You do what you need to, and I'm praying every night. I have to believe justice will prevail, and when it does, you have a huge family here who is eager to welcome you, hopefully for Thanksgiving. Steve's invited, as always…or any of your friends. They're all welcome."
"I'm not sure if that'll be possible, but I hope so." So much time was ripped away from him. He didn't want the remaining sliver of it he had with Becca to slip through his fingers.
She said her goodbyes, and he promised to keep in touch better. Then he booted up the laptop and dove into the other thing he'd been avoiding. The news.
He spent hours watching clips of the morning session, seeing himself stumble out of the chambers in the afternoon like a newborn foal on unsteady legs, his face pale, and dark bags under his eyes.
He scrolled through news headlines.
'Barnes accuses Senator Atwood of corruption and conspiracy to murder'
'Barnes admits murdering Atwood enemies'
'Source: Barnes was sexually assaulted by captors.'
'Coalition for Victims of Sexual Assault call for Atwood's resignation'
'National League of Families of POWs/MIA demand freedom for Barnes'
'Stark and Rogers refused to publicly disclose details of alleged threat to global security'
'Will aliens be back? President tight-lipped about possible extra-terrestrial threat'
'Stark defends Barnes' assassination of parents Howard and Maria'
'Barnes' namesake calls uncle a hero'
"Winter Soldier's sister says he was a good man'
"Is the world's longest held POW entitled to back pay?'
With a frustrated grumble, Bucky slammed the lid on the laptop and rubbed his eyes.
It was almost evening, and he was reading a book when a hard pounding shook his door. "Buck, you in there?"
Natasha was right—Steve sounded on the verge of breaking down the door. He couldn't blame the guy. If their situations were reversed, he probably wouldn't be so patient.
But he really could do without Steve's patented brand of blue-eyed guilt and pity.
Putting the book down, he slid off the bed and opened the door. Steve's fist was in the air, and surprise flickered over his face.
"About time." Steve slapped him on the shoulder. "We've got a delivery outside, and it's going to take two of us to move it, so get your ass in gear and follow me." Then, he spun and headed briskly down the hallway.
That wasn't quite the reaction Bucky expected. A tiny smile lifted his lips, and he slipped into his shoes and caught up with Steve.
"This isn't taking me 200 feet away from the main building, is it?" He glanced down at his ankle monitor.
"Of course not."
Outside, he saw a metal pallet piled three feet high with boxes.
"New parts for the system Stark's working on to defend Earth," Steve explained. "We need to move this to the hangar. You grab that side. I'll take this one."
Steve slid into position and Bucky lifted with him. The pallet was heavy, but not that heavy, and Stark's autobot suits usually handled manual labor.
Subtle, Steve.
Once they set the load down in the hangar, Bucky straightened and brushed his hands on his legs. "Is that all, or is there another sham task you want to concoct?"
"I have no idea what you mean," Steve said, with an innocent lift of his eyebrows.
"Right."
Steve slapped him on the shoulder. "I ordered pizza, and there's beer in the fridge. It's a nice evening. How 'bout we take it up to the roof?"
"Does the pizza have pineapple on it?"
"Nope."
"Okay, then."
-0- -0- -0-
The sun and the pizza were gone. Steve nursed the last few sips of his beer as he took in the budding stars. Bucky slept in the chair next to him, his head turned slightly to the side, a dribble of spit at the corner of his mouth.
He debated waking his friend and urging him downstairs, but from the heavy bags under Bucky's eyes and the lines of fatigue on his face, Steve was sure Bucky hadn't been sleeping. He didn't want to risk interrupting what was probably the first bit of solid sleep he'd gotten in days.
At some point, Steve drifted off himself, plagued by dreams of two minutes and nineteen seconds on the train in the Alps.
A sound filtered into his dream. A gasp. It pulled him toward consciousness. He lurched forward in his chair, seeing a dark sky and a bright moon that gave him a dizzying sense of disorientation.
A thud to his right pulled his attention, and he saw Bucky on the ground—no, the roof. Steve rubbed at his eyes, clearing the remnants of sleep from his brain. He was on the roof of the complex. They'd fallen asleep after pizza and beers.
"Where am I?" Bucky blinked, shifting on his butt as he looked around.
"Roof of the Avenger's compound." Steve leaned forward to push himself to his feet when Bucky groggily pulled himself back into the chair and curled up awkwardly on his side, his eyes drifting closed.
Deciding Bucky would regret spending the rest of the night contorted in the chair, Steve got to his feet and tugged on Bucky's arm.
"Buck, come one, let's head in."
Bucky grumbled something, then he glanced up through slitted eyelids. "Huh?"
"Come on." He grabbed Bucky's arm and pulled him onto his feet. "There's a bed downstairs."
Eyeing the empty pizza box and beer bottles, Steve decided they could wait until morning as he guided Bucky into the stairwell. Bucky moved like a zombie, eyes at half mast, flirting with sleep all the way to the room.
Once inside his room, Bucky fell face-first on top of the bed. Steve slipped off his friend's shoes, then grabbed the throw blanket from the chair and draped it over him.
"Goodnight, Buddy," Steve muttered, then headed to his own room.
-0- -0- -0-
"Sergeant Barnes, thank you for appearing before this committee today. I know a lot's been thrown at you lately," Senator Thomas of the Veterans Affairs Committee greeted. He was a frail elderly man, with hazel eyes and thin, gray hair.
It's not like I had much of a choice with the summons, Bucky thought. "You're welcome."
Once again, Steve was on his right, and Williams was on the left. Stark, Natasha, and Sam sat in the row behind. The chamber was packed with reporters and spectators.
"I want to clarify something," the senator continued. "I know you were summoned here, but the purpose of this session isn't adversarial. You're the longest held POW in human history, and our goal is to gather information about your unique experience to help determine if we can change or create legislation to better serve our nation's veterans."
Bucky nodded. The Senator seemed genuine. Maybe this session would be different.
Thomas smiled and leaned forward, shaking his head. "It's incredible. You look exactly the same."
Confusion rippled Bucky's brow. Didn't the senator know about the cryogenic chamber?
"You don't remember me, do you?" the Senator asked.
Bucky looked at the nameplate. Senator Samuel Thomas. It was a common name. He had known a Private Samuel Thomas….
"Are you shitting me?" He sank into the back of his chair.
The senator laughed, and a few of his colleagues chuckled. "I served with you briefly. I took two bullets in my right leg. One hit an artery. You saved my life."
A low murmur rose among the mass of reporters. Bulbs flashed.
"Sammy?" Bucky grinned. "Holy cow." He quickly did the math in his head. "You were eighteen when that happened. Now, you must be…"
"Eighty-nine years old, yep, but you have me beat by a few years, Sarge."
Bucky turned to Steve. "This crazy guy enlisted on his eighteenth birthday. Can you believe that?"
Steve grinned, giving the senator an admiring nod. "I'm glad you made it."
"It was a close call," Thomas said.
Bucky couldn't believe the man was still alive, and a senator, especially at his age. "Hey, I remember you used to get sugar reports from a gal. What was her name?"
"Betty." Thomas shook his head. "I can't believe you remember that."
"Yeah, you were sure you were going to marry her if you made it out."
"I was, and I did." He raised his hand to show the ring. "She's a year younger than me and still kicking. We both got very lucky, and we have three children and seven grandchildren—thanks to you, Sergeant Barnes." Thomas slowly pushed himself from his chair, stood straight, and saluted.
Old habits propelled Bucky to his feet, and he returned the salute, even as the panel of senators grew blurry before his eyes and heat rose in his cheeks. A camera flashed in his face, and the sounds of voices and clicking cameras echoed in the space behind.
Damnit, he chided himself, don't start blubbering in front of the reporters.
He sat when the senators returned to their seats. Steve leaned forward into the mic, his hand pressing firmly on Bucky's shoulder.
"Sergeant James Barnes has a habit of saving lives." Steve threw him a side glance. "He saved mine."
Another murmur rose from the gallery.
"Yes, about that." Thomas pointed to a stack of papers on the end of the table where Bucky, Steve, and Williams sat. "Captain, there's a document labelled Exhibit A there. Can you hand it to Sergeant Barnes?"
"Yes, sir." Steve glanced at it. His brow furrowed, then he slid the document over.
Bucky read the description on the cover. It was a report drafted by Steve about the mission to capture Zola.
"Sergeant Barnes, have you seen this report before?" Thomas asked.
"No, sir."
"Because you were officially KIA at the time, I imagine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you take a moment to read it now for us—silently is fine. Take your time."
Bucky opened the cover and began to read Steve's report. The narrative of the events brought him mentally back to that day. The dizzying zip line. The biting cold. The adrenaline as he sailed through the air and his feet touched the top of the train. Getting separated from Steve, pinned down, running out of ammo. Steve tossing him a gun. The two of them working together to take out the Hydra agent.
Then the Hydra soldier coming at them from behind Bucky. Steve taking a hit. Bucky grabbing the shield, firing, getting blasted outside the train. Hanging on to cold metal. Steve calling his name. Reaching for him.
Falling. Screaming. Pain.
The report was factual, but the narrative was laced with blame.
"I walked too far ahead of Sergeant Barnes, resulting in us being separated."
"I turned my back to the open doorway."
"I was down. Sergeant Barnes grabbed the shield and stepped in the line of enemy fire."
When he finished, Bucky ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looked over at Steve.
"Is the report accurate?" Thomas asked.
Bucky leaned into the mic, but his gaze lingered on Steve's anxious face. "For the most part. There are a few things I'd take issue with."
Another murmur from the gallery filled the room.
"What are they, Sergeant?" Thomas asked.
Bucky looked down at the report. "Rogers is taking the blame here. He didn't walk too far ahead of me. I was lagging. We both turned our backs to the open doorway. I distracted Rogers by making a crack about having the enemy soldier on the ropes. Rogers shielded me from enemy fire and got knocked down. I picked up the shield and fired but took a hit from the energy canon."
Steve shook his head. "I oversaw the mission. I was faster and stronger because of the serum. I easily outpaced you. I should have adjusted my lead instead of letting you get too far behind. You didn't distract me. I already had my back turned looking at the soldier you just took out. I should have kept my head on a swivel."
"Gentlemen," Thomas interjected, "the purpose of this isn't to cast blame. Things go wrong in war. Every person on this committee knows that. The purpose is simply to verify the accuracy of the report. This is the first opportunity Barnes has had to do that, not that anyone is doubting you, Captain, but since that's the mission that resulted in Barnes' captivity, it's important foundational information."
Rogers looked at the Senator and nodded. "Understood, sir."
"Sergeant, I understand Dr. Arnim Zola experimented on you when you were captured the first time?"
"Yes, sir," Bucky answered into the mic.
"And the mission on the train was to capture him for the Allied forces, correct?"
"Yes."
"On December 31, 1944?"
"Yes."
"I take it that explains the discrepancy of the day of your 'death' between the museum records and other files? It was just before the New Year?"
"Yes, it was 1944 in the United States, 1945 on the Austrian front," Bucky explained.
The senator nodded. "That mission was successful, of course, other than you as a casualty?"
"Yes, sir."
"The U.S. took custody of Dr. Zola?"
"I believe so. I wasn't around then."
"Of course. Captain Rogers, can you speak to that?"
Steve leaned into the mic. "Yes. We brought Zola to a secured location."
"He provided valuable information?"
"That was the purpose, so yes. I found out later he was still able to communicate with Hydra."
"Yes. That's what I'm interested in." Thomas looked to Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, when you were captured the second time, was Zola involved?"
Zola. He hated thinking about the man, couldn't stand the image of his smug face. He deserved to be tried and pay the price for his crimes. Instead, he'd been given a room, meals… all because he had a mad-scientist brain.
Bucky's memories of that early time in his captivity were foggy. "I believe so, yes. I remember hearing my captors say Zola's name more than once. I have a recollection of seeing his face and hearing his voice when I was being worked on by the Russians—I'm not sure how long after my capture—but I'm not sure if I'm mixing things up in my memory or if I just imagined it. I remember him standing over me outside in the snow, but he was captured when I fell in the Alps. I also remember him telling someone 'The procedure is already started.' Another time, he told someone to put me on ice."
"So, even after he committed crimes against humanity, experimented on POWs—including you—he was essentially recruited into SHIELD but still working for Hydra?"
Bucky shrugged. "That's what I learned. Again, I wasn't around for that."
Rogers leaned forward. "Yes, sir. That's my understanding, too, though I was in the ice when SHIELD was founded."
"Barnes, if he'd been tried and convicted, do you think Hydra would have been able to turn you into the Winter Soldier?"
That was one hell of a question. Bucky wasn't sure he knew the answer. Hydra was resourceful. Maybe they would've. Or maybe they'd have ultimately killed him trying.
"I don't know, sir."
"Do you have an opinion on what should have been done with Zola when he was captured?"
"I do." He threw Steve an apologetic look.
Peggy and Howard were founding members of SHIELD, and he didn't want to speak ill of either of them. He knew how much Steve cared about Peggy, and frankly, she couldn't have known Zola was still working for Hydra. If she had, she would've stopped him.
"What is your opinion, Sergeant?"
Bucky took a breath and met the senator's gaze. "He should have been tried and convicted for his crimes. He should have been locked up for good or executed, preferably the latter so he couldn't do any more damage."
"Captain Rogers, this is a question for you," Thomas said. "As part of the information dumped by Miss Romanoff," the senator cast a quick glance at Natasha in the row behind, "we discovered that Operation Paperclip was a United States initiative that rose from within SHIELD's ranks and allowed Zola to secretly rebuild Hydra inside SHIELD."
"Yes, sir," Steve answered.
"In fact, and I'm not sure I fully understood this, so I'm asking you to confirm, but Dr. Zola's knowledge was somehow transferred to a computer?"
"Yes." Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Probably the world's first A.I., from what I understand."
What? Bucky looked at Steve. This was all news to him. Zola had been turned into a computer?
"You and Miss Romanoff spoke with this computer version of Zola?"
"We did."
"What did he tell you?"
"He was stalling us until Hydra agents arrived," Steve replied uncomfortably.
Bucky could tell Steve was holding something back, but he was still reeling from the revelation that Zola managed to live on as an evil AI.
"He disclosed Operation Paperclips manipulations," Steve continued, "creating crises, manipulating history, making people afraid so that they'd ultimately turn over their freedom to Hydra."
"So, by offering Zola a position in SHIELD, not only did the government unknowingly allow Zola to rebuild Hydra, but we gave him a full pass for his crimes against allied POWs?"
"Twenty-six men, sir," Bucky added.
"Excuse me, Sergeant?" Thomas tilted his head.
"Zola experimented on and killed twenty-six men held captive in the Hydra weapons facility. I was the only subject to survive. Steve found me on the table."
Another low murmur came from the observers.
"Thank you, Sergeant." The senator paused solemnly for a moment. "That certainly puts things into perspective."
Bucky and Steve answered questions for another three hours—on topics ranging from financial benefits to how well Bucky was re-integrating into society and the loss of his limb and new prosthetic. It was lunch when they concluded for the day, and he once again hurtled through the mass or reporters into a waiting limousine.
When they were inside the vehicle, Steve gave a deep sigh and leaned close to him. "I'm sorry about Zola. It shouldn't have happened that way. He had valuable knowledge, but after the war was over, he should have been tried for his crimes."
Bucky gave an appreciative smile, though thinking about Zola living a cushy life after what he'd done set his gut on fire. "That wasn't your fault. You were in the ice."
He wanted to know more about the computer version of Zola, but not in front of Williams. Whatever Steve was holding back was probably not for her ears.
-0- -0- -0-
After returning to the Avenger's compound, Tony headed off to his lab, Williams said her goodbyes and promised to be in touch, and Sam ribbed Bucky about being older than the oldest politician in DC. Natasha was the silent observer, casually nestled on the lounge sofa, a hint of a smirk in her eyes.
Bucky waited until Sam was on his way out, then turned to Steve and broached the topic he couldn't get out of his head. "About Zola and the computer?"
Steve sighed and sank onto the armchair. "Yeah. It was a surprise to us, too."
"Us?"
Natasha raised her hand. "When we were on the run from Hydra."
Ah. When he'd been sent to kill them.
"We found him in SHIELD's old headquarters," Steve explained. "Two hundred thousand feet of 1972 databanks."
"What the fuck?" Bucky dropped into the other end of the sofa opposite Natasha.
"Was it him or just…information?"
Natasha shrugged. "Seemed pretty sophisticated for a computer."
"Definitely had his smug personality," Steve added.
"If it's any consolation, Hydra blew him up trying to kill us."
"Is it possible he's backed up somewhere?" Bucky was still wrapping his head around the concept of artificial intelligence, but what he'd learned from reading about Ultron and watching movies, anything on a computer could be copied or transferred.
"I hope to hell not," Steve whispered, shock in his voice.
"The bunker was offline, so unless Hydra or SHIELD managed to back up two hundred thousand feet of databanks regularly, I doubt it."
"Why the hell would anyone…." Bucky shook his head angrily. "Nevermind." He was about to ask why anyone would want to keep that sick asshole around in computer form, but Hydra had already infiltrated SHIELD by that time.
It's amazing the ethics people are willing to overlook if they have something to gain from billionaires and geniuses, Bucky thought.
Zola killed good men, tortured him, turned him into the Winter Soldier. The people Bucky gave his loyalty and life to repaid Zola with immunity and a position in SHIELD.
"I didn't matter to them," Bucky muttered, his insides tight and his face hot. "None of us did."
"What?" Steve leaned forward. "You mattered Bucky. All the men who died mattered."
He locked eyes with Steve. "Not as much as Zola, apparently."
That asshole paid no price for the things he'd done. SHIELD helped him cheat death.
"Look, Buck, you have a right to be angry—"
The fire in his gut exploded and Bucky launched himself out of the chair. "Damn right I'm angry!"
"Good," Natasha interjected with a curt nod.
Bucky barely heard her as paced. "That fucking psycho asshole fucker tortured me and killed twenty-six other men in his goddamn lab of horrors, and SHIELD offered him sanctuary? A job? There was a kid in the cell with me after Azzano. A kid. Nineteen years old. Paulie Simmons from New Jersey, of all places. Sick as a dog. He watched the others get taken. They never came back. He was terrified. I distracted him, teased the shit out of him for being from New Jersey, told him everything would be okay. I lied! It was all I could do. And then they took him. I tried to stop them. Dum Dum did, too. I was barely hanging on myself, and I was next in line. I saw them carting off his body as they dragged me toward the room. And you know what's fucking ironic?" Hollow laughter rang out of him like the patter of a machine gun. "I HELPED CAPTURE ZOLA! I thought we were taking him out of the equation. I thought he'd be interrogated, we'd gain useful information, and that sick bastard would be locked up for good or a rope put around his neck, but instead, he got stronger. That whole mission was for nothing. I sacrificed my life for what? To give him means to turn me into Hydra's killing machine."
Steve was in front of him, brow furrowed, eyes maddeningly understanding. "I'm sorry, Buck—"
Bucky grabbed the front of Steve's suit jacket with his right hand. "Why are you sorry? How much did you fucking know about their plans with Zola before you went into the ice?"
Steve kept his hands at his side. "I didn't know. I thought the same thing you did—that he'd be interrogated and locked up for good. I figured they'd offer him a deal, but I thought the deal would be he gets to live in a cell in exchange for information."
Bucky released Steve and spun away. He was dangerously close to putting his fist through something, and he needed to control his anger before he said or did something he'd regret. He took several hard, deep breaths, his hands clenched at his sides, and moved to the window to stare at the trees.
"What did you learn from computer Zola?" Bucky asked, when he could speak without gritting his teeth.
"We learned Hydra had Tony's parents killed," Steve answered. "And that Hydra was behind Kennedy's assassination."
Bucky's head snapped toward Steve.
"We didn't know it was you," Steve continued. "Not then. We knew Hydra's Winter Soldier was involved in some of the crises Hydra fed the world, but not the specific missions." He closed the distance between them. "You should be angry. It's about time. I've been angry since the day I lost you. I wanted nothing more than to tear Hydra apart with my bare hands. I promised I wouldn't stop until all of Hydra was dead or captured. All of them. I would never have led us on that mission if I thought they'd roll out the red carpet for Zola."
Bucky's anger dwindled to a simmer in the wake of those words. He couldn't change a thing about what happened, but knowing Zola had gotten away with his crimes would eat at him for a long time.
"Paulie's body never got home," he whispered. "Hydra burned them all, destroyed the evidence."
"I know."
Bucky leaned his forehead against the cool window. World War II ended 70 years ago, but to him it was only a few years. He needed to get out of his head, stop living in the past, and deal with the present.
He crossed his arms and turned to Steve. "They're going to want me to list all my missions, name all the Winter Soldier victims."
"Yes."
Every time Bucky thought about Kennedy, his stomach twisted into knots. "What about JFK?"
"Don't tell them," Natasha spoke up quickly. "That information is not in the information I dumped, at least not in a way anyone would be able to make sense of. No good will come from it."
"If they find out," Steve interjected, "and you didn't disclose it, it won't go well for you, Buck."
"I know." Bucky squeezed at the bridge of his nose. "He's got grandchildren. Family. They have a right to know. The world deserves the truth, but when the world finds out…" he shook his head. "The President won't pardon me if it comes out that I killed a sitting U.S. President. Even if he does, I'll never have any peace. Everyone I meet will know me as the guy who killed JFK. I know I'm being selfish here. I'm not proud of that, but I can't be that guy forever. I don't know what all this is for if I just end up locked up."
"I'll support whatever you decide," Steve said. "Nothing you tell them is going to change the past."
"The Russians were behind JFK, so telling them could do more harm than good, possibly destabilizing international relations," Natasha cautioned. "Whatever you decide, though, don't tell them anymore about your victims until the ink is wet on a deal for your pardon. Trust me when I say, the government can't be trusted."
Bucky already knew that. Hydra. SHIELD. Germany. The United States. The thing they had in common was power-hungry people willing to destroy whoever stood in the way of their agendas.
Author's Note:
It's Saturday! Yay! It has been an exhausting work week, and diving into this fictional world has helped get me through it! Thank you all for your comments and kudos. I've loved reading your reactions. Keep them coming (and, as I said before, I have a thick skin, so fret not!)
FYI: The date of Bucky's "death" has been a point of consternation for me (due to the inconsistencies within the MCU; Smithsonian and a couple other places say 1944, Zola in The Winter Soldier mentions 1945). Since we know it was winter, I jumped on Dec 31st and the international time difference as the explanation for the canon inconsistencies. There, I feel better, now.
