Chapter 32: Second Chances

Breakfast was waffles with bacon and a poached egg in the lounge. Bucky filled four plates, two piled with heaping portions. His dining companions grabbed their dishes and sat at the table—Natasha, Wanda, and Steve. Bucky took the chair across from Steve and dug in.

"I hear you're a culinary genius, and I don't even get an invite?" Tony interrupted as he strolled into the lounge, a newspaper in his hand. "Rude."

Bucky tilted his head toward the stove. "Help yourself. Didn't realize you were here." Tony seemed to be spending less time with Pepper these days.

Tony tossed the paper on the table near Bucky's plate. "You made the cover of the New York Times."

Two photos of yesterday's salute graced the front page beneath a bold headline, 'Senate Veterans salute Barnes on Senate Floor.' The first photo was of Bucky, taken from the front. He stood, arm up in salute, shimmering eyes straight ahead. The second photo had been taken from the side, a wider angle, showed Senator Thomas standing, facing him.

Bucky skimmed the story. The text focused on the mission to capture Zola and his recruitment by Operation Paperclip, with a sidebar on Bucky saving Senator Thomas's life. The Senator was quoted, "I intend to introduce legislation to ensure that the United States never provides safe harbor to war criminals ever again."

Good for you, Sammy.

His eyes lingered on the next sentence. "According to a recent New York Times Poll, 69% of Americans favor a presidential pardon for Sergeant James Barnes."

"The President wants to meet with you tomorrow," Stark said from the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bacon from a platter by the stove and popping it in his mouth.

Bucky's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "At the White House?" His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket—a text from his lawyer about the meeting with the President.

"I saved his life, you know," Stark said smugly, a waffle in his hand.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow. "Wasn't it Rhodes who saved his life?"

"Rhodey deserves thirty-four percent of the credit," Tony replied.

"Thirty-four?" Natasha asked. "I think he was the one who did the direct saving."

"My suit… and I saved eleven people on Air Force One."

Natasha gave him an incredulous look. "Wasn't your suit used to kidnap the President in the first place?"

Tony pointed the waffle at Natasha. "You're off my Christmas list, Romanoff."

"Oh no," she said with mock sadness.

"So, Barnes?" Tony prompted, waving the waffle in the air. "Tomorrow. nine a.m.? You can't keep wearing the same suit, so I had a few more put in your closet."

"Uh…Thank you. What does he want to talk to me about?" Bucky lowered his fork and glanced anxiously toward Steve.

"The pardon, I imagine. He's waffling. You know politicians. Dress nice. Smile, but not like you do when you're faking it, because that's creepy as hell."

Bucky rose from the table and looked at his phone. "I better call my lawyer."

-0- -0- -0-

The security screening took forever. His metal arm caused consternation and handwringing from secret service and security personnel who had no idea how to screen it. Bucky stood tensely for a thorough full-body pat down, gritting his teeth against the feel of a stranger's hands on him.

When he was finally ushered inside, surrounded by his lawyer, Tony, Steve, White House staff, and secret service agents, he was on edge.

"Tony," President Ellis extended his hand to Stark, "it's always a pleasure."

Stark shook the President's hand. "The pleasure's all mine, sir."

Ellis' gaze shifted to Rogers. "And Steve Rogers, Captain America. It's an honor to have you in the Oval Office."

The two men shook hands, and Steve flashed his perfect smile. "Thank you for taking an interest in Bucky's case, sir."

"Yes, of course." Ellis walked up to Bucky.

Bucky tried his best to smile without looking creepy, but he was painfully conscious of the half dozen secret service personnel in the room, their eyes focused on him. He could only imagine how many more would be present if they knew he'd already assassinated one President.

"Sergeant Barnes." Ellis extended his hand. "Thank you for meeting with me today."

Bucky shook the man's hand gently, anxious that he might squeeze too hard, and that sure as hell wouldn't help his case. He didn't know how to respond, since he'd had little choice in accepting the meeting. He just nodded.

Out of his periphery vision, he saw Tony squeeze the bridge of his nose and shake his head.

"Have a seat." The President gestured to the couch in the center of the room. Bucky took the seat next to the arm. Steve sat next to him. The President sat on the opposing couch, and Tony and Williams dropped into the two vacant armchairs.

"I want to start off by thanking you both for your service to our country during World War II," the President said. "Captain Rogers, you saved a lot of lives when you stopped those German bombs, and Sergeant Barnes, you fought on the front lines and saved Rogers. Without you, there wouldn't have been a Captain America to save us."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said. "You're right. Without Bucky, things would have happened very differently back then. A lot of lives would've been lost."

Bucky glanced at Steve. The man was laying it on thick.

"Thank you, Mr. President," Bucky replied. He crossed then uncrossed his legs and shifted on the cushion.

He didn't know the protocol for visiting a President. He should have Googled it. Should he be standing at attention?

"Sergeant, I can see that you're nervous, and I understand why," Ellis began. "It's a tragedy what happened to you, and I'll be honest, this is a complicated situation. I've had family members of your victims protesting and contacting their senators and my office demanding that you be put on trial."

Bucky met the President's gaze. "I understand. They want justice."

"Yes, they do. On the other hand, I have Veteran's groups, families of POWs, and those still MIA advocating for your pardon. Then there's the problem of how divisive a trial would be, and the fact that some national security secrets might inevitably have to be released in your defense."

That was news to Bucky. He wasn't sure what national security secrets the man had in mind. His old missions couldn't possibly be relevant to current national security, and information regarding his recent missions was in the files Natasha dumped on the Internet.

His final mission prior to the aborted launch of Hydra's Project Insight had been to kill the nuclear engineer protected – unsuccessfully – by Natasha. Was there information related to that mission that threatened national security?

"If I pardon you, how can America be sure you no longer pose a threat…I mean, beyond the programming you endured? I understand that's no longer a concern, but you were trained by America's enemies for seventy years. Men have been held captive for far shorter periods of time and cracked, becoming unstable, brainwashed, so to speak."

Bucky took a moment to collect his thoughts. It was a valid question. A necessary one. "The reason Hydra wiped my memory and put that program in my head was because they couldn't brainwash me otherwise. The serum helped me survive their attempts, and believe me, they got creative. They put me in a cryogenic chamber the first time while developing a protocol to take control of my mind. Now that I'm free of that program and I have my memories back, I'm not a threat. I'm not a killer. I never wanted to be a killer."

"What do you want?" the President asked, leaning forward.

Bucky answered him without hesitation. "Peace. Freedom. A chance to do good."

"Do good how?"

"The aliens that attacked New York will be back," Bucky said. "I'll join the fight against them when they return. If I can help stop them, I'll have played a part in saving billions of lives. I know that won't bring back the lives I've taken, but there's nothing I can do that will."

The President leaned back and crossed his legs. "If I pardon you, that will only apply to federal offenses in the United States. There may still be state charges and crimes the Winter Soldier committed in other countries."

"I understand." He glanced at his lawyer, who gave him a brief acknowledging nod.

"If I pardon you, you're prepared to provide a list of all the missions you conducted as the Winter Soldier?" the President asked. "All your victims? Targets—even those who might have escaped? Everything you know about Hydra secrets not already released on the Internet?"

Bucky looked at Steve for a moment, the unspoken clear between them. With a sigh, he turned back to face the President. "There are things I would rather not become public."

"I can't promise that," Ellis said. "Freedom of Information Act, and if there's not a valid national security reason to withhold, I may not be able to promise information won't become public. It is, however, a condition of your pardon."

It sounded as though the President was inclined to give the pardon, and if that's the condition, Bucky had no choice. His only decision was whether to tell the whole truth or hold back.

"Okay," he said. "I'll give you a list."

"How long will it take you to put it together?" Ellis asked.

"A day if it's handwritten. My typing's not great." He'd probably have to work through the night on it, but he didn't want to take too long and risk the President changing his mind.

"I can assist you with that," Williams offered.

Bucky looked at her and sighed. "I'd rather do this one alone."

She tilted her head. "Are you sure? We have attorney-client privilege."

"I know. No offense. I appreciate all you've done but… I'm sure."

"Agreed." Ellis extended his hand. "Just make sure your handwriting is legible."

Bucky shook the hand. "I will. Thank you, Mr. President." He tilted his head. He had to ask. "So, does this mean….?"

The President smiled. "Yes, Sergeant, if you get me that list, I'll issue the pardon."

Williams cleared her throat and leaned forward. "Mr. President, I spoke with the Office of the Pardon Attorney. Due to the extremely sensitive nature of the information Barnes will be providing, we agreed that if you grant the request for a pardon, we will provide the information at the signing."

"You don't trust me, Sergeant?" Ellis looked straight at Barnes.

Bucky cleared his throat and opted for honesty. "With all due respect, sir, I haven't had a lot of cause to trust anyone over the past seventy years…other than Steve."

Ellis stood. "I want the list tomorrow by noon a.m., one hour before the signing. Non-negotiable. Also, you'll have to agree to regular check-ins with an approved therapist, and that you will fight against the upcoming alien invasion. I've already had papers sent to your lawyer. Press conference will be at one. You, you, and you," Ellis pointed to Barnes, Rogers, and Stark, "will be there for the cameras. I'll make a speech. You'll thank me profusely, Sergeant and Captain Rogers. Agreed?"

"I must insist on a memorandum evidencing our agreement—the pardon in exchange for information," Williams asked.

"Not gonna happen." Ellis folded his arms. "I'm not giving ammunition to my enemies that I was strong-armed into this pardon. Pardons are at my discretion Take it or leave it."

"Can I confer with my client?" Williams asked.

Bucky stood to face the man. "I'll agree." Maybe he couldn't trust Ellis, but his back was to the wall, and Ellis knew it.

Steve looked at Bucky. "Are you sure?"

"It's time to get this over with one way or the other. Either I get a pardon, or I don't, but I can't go on in limbo."

Steve turned to the President, placing a light hand on Bucky's right arm, and said, "I'll be there and promise to put on a good show for the cameras."

"I'm always up for the limelight," Tony added.

-0- -0- -0-

The next morning, Bucky and the group were back in the oval office at noon. Steve was dressed in his uniform for the cameras, the shield at his back.

"Mr. President." Bucky held out the sealed manila envelope with 42 pages listing his missions and targets over the past seventy years. He'd spent all of yesterday and most of the night putting hellish memories to paper.

"Thank you, Sergeant," the President said.

A secret service agent took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the contents, rifling quickly through the pages before handing it to the President.

Ellis read the sheets slowly. Bucky swallowed, eyeing Steve anxiously. The missions were mostly in chronological order, except for one.

The President turned to the last page and went still for a moment, then looked up, his jaw slack. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"

Steve's gaze snapped to Bucky, the unspoken question apparent in his eyes. Bucky hadn't told anyone—not even Steve—that he decided to come clean. He hadn't even decided himself until that morning, which is why he listed it last.

By the look on the President's face, he was reconsidering the pardon. Bucky dropped his gaze to the floor as his insides twisted and his heart pounded.

"Mr. President, you can do whatever you see fit with that information. I understand if you change your mind about the pardon."

Steve stepped forward. "Bucky had no choice in anything he did. He was a victim. He served this country, sacrificed his life for it, and it's about time this country gives him something back. The U.S. government forgave Zola's crimes. Zola experimented on and killed Allied servicemembers. Bucky was one of those victims, and any government that would absolve an evil man like Zola but persecute one of his victims is no government I'd served."

Ellis held Steve's gaze, his face flat but his eyes calculating.

"What the hell is this about?" Tony asked, shifting curiously on his feet.

The President looked at the secret service and staffers and said, "Clear the room, all except our visitors."

A man in a black suit stepped forward. "Sir…."

"Clear the room now."

The man nodded and, within moments, they were alone with the President. Ellis rose and walked around the desk, the paper in his hand. "Kennedy?"

Bucky gave a tight nod, his gaze straight ahead. "The Russians wanted him dead, sir."

The President leaned forward. "KENNEDY?!"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"Kennedy?" Tony this time. "As in John F? Jesus Christ, Barnes, you go big, don't you?"

"It wasn't his fault, Tony," Steve lashed out.

"This is what you didn't want public?" Ellis asked.

"If it gets out, I'll never have a chance at peace," Bucky said. "No life. My past has already disrupted the lives of my sister and her family. This will make it worse."

"Peace?" Ellis asked. "Do the families of your victims get peace?"

Rogers stepped between Bucky and the President. "That's not fair, Mr. President."

"It is a fair question," Bucky said. "No, I'm sure they don't."

Steve slipped his helmet off and stared down the President. "Do you intend to keep your word and pardon Bucky?"

Tony raised his finger. "Mr. President, remember that time I saved eleven people on Air Force one and was sixty-six percent responsible for saving your life? Let's be frank, my army of suits stopped a pretty bad terrorist group."

Ellis looked past Steve to Bucky. "I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. Lucky for you, none of the state governors want to deal with the headache of incarcerating a super soldier and Captain America's best friend. They've all agreed to pardon protections for you, but this…," he raised the paper, "…sure as hell would complicate things with Texas." He took the paper back to his desk, placed it on top of the stack, and slid the entire thing into a drawer. "I'll decide later what to do with that information. For now, we better get ready for the cameras." He pointed at Bucky. "And you better not make me regret pardoning your ass. Got it?"

"I won't, sir."

An hour later, his ankle monitor was removed, and they were outside facing a huge crowd of reporters. The President made a speech, signed the pardon. Steve smiled for the cameras and shook hands with the President. Tony cracked a few jokes and showed off his good side.

The reporters pummeled Bucky with questions. To get through the chaos, he kept his gaze on the horizon and replied to almost every question with the canned answers the Press Secretary had prepared for him—how grateful he was to President Ellis for his second chance and that he looked forward to becoming a productive member of society.

Hours later, he was mercifully in the limousine with Steve and Tony, an accordion-style folder in his hands that Williams handed him moments before being whisked away by a woman in a blue pantsuit.

Inside the folder was a stack of papers and two medium yellow envelopes. He opened one and pulled out dog tags attached to a metal chain.

Bucky studied them. The information was the same, but the tags were new. Replicas. He placed them over his neck. He hadn't felt their weight in almost a century. Hell, he'd worn them for less than two years in the Army, but they had his name.

His identity.

He nestled them beneath the collar of his shirt, feeling the cool metal against his breastbone.

A piece of paper was inside the envelope. He pulled it out and read the handwritten note.

'I called in a favor. It took some doing to find the information for your original dog tags. Welcome back, Sarge.'

It was signed Senator "Sammy" Thomas.

Warmth spread through Bucky's chest, and he grinned, biting his lower lip as he slipped the note back into the envelope.

"Congratulations, Bucky." Steve slapped him on the knee. "It's good to have you back…legally speaking."

"Thanks."

"So, anything you want to do on your first official day of freedom as James Bucky Barnes?" Tony asked.

"I'm exhausted. Sleep sounds good."

"Boring," Tony pouted.

Bucky opened the second envelope and pulled out a check. He blinked at the numbers. "What the hell?"

"A check?" Steve asked. "Army benefits, I take it?"

"Eight hundred thirty-six thousand, two hundred fifty dollars and twenty-six cents," Bucky muttered in awe.

Tony shrugged. "So much for government work. That's all the back pay you get after seventy years? Bullshit."

"Is this not a lot?" It sure as hell seems like a lot," Bucky said, staring at the check. "I don't have a bank account,"

"Easy remedy now that you're all legal," Tony said. "And, no, it's not really a lot. You're not poor, anymore, but you can easily spend that much to buy a condo in Manhattan, even with the depressed post-alien-invasion real estate market."

Bucky rifled through the rest of the file and inspected his replacement social security card, a New York State ID card with a photo that must have been taken by the FBI during his processing, a copy of the signed post-pardon agreement detailing his obligations, and a dizzying amount of additional legal paperwork.

The limo crawled through a mob of reporters and news vans outside the perimeter of the Avenger's grounds. Once through that mess, he hurried from the limo into the building and walked into a party with the Avengers, Doctors Cho and Abodon, Maria Hill, Happy, Pepper, Clint, Laura, and dozens of people he didn't recognize.

"Congratulations, Bucky!" Laura leaned in for a gentle hug.

He was delighted to see the Bartons again. He hadn't gotten to thank them properly for taking him in. "Thank you, Laura." He reached out and shook Clint's hand. "Thank you both for giving me a place to lay low for a while."

Sam walked up to him. "So, how does it feel to be officially alive and a free man?"

"I don't think it's fully registered yet," he answered honestly, loosening the tie around his neck.

It had all been a whirlwind, with events happening so fast he barely had time to process one thing before the next came at him. It felt a bit like riding the Cyclone, but without the fun. Maybe it was more like Steve's experience on the rollercoaster, including throwing up.

By the time the party dwindled his brain was fried. It was evening and he'd stuffed himself with finger foods and cake. He slipped away from the lingering guests and headed to his room, intent on a shower and a change of clothes to something more comfortable than the suit.

In the quiet sanctuary of his room, he undressed and hit the shower, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders under the hot spray to work out the day's tension. His mind played over the laundry list of things he had to do—call Becca, go to the DMV and get a driver's license (which meant a test, which meant studying up on modern New York traffic laws), open a bank account, figure out if he needed a birth certificate and, if so, how to get one, apply for a passport (he never knew when he might need one), and figure out ways to repay everyone who had helped him.

Also, figure out what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life.

He finished the shower, toweled off, and brushed his teeth. Padding into the bedroom, he was reaching for his cell phone when a knock at his door diverted his attention.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door to find Natasha.

"I figured this is where you were headed." Her eyes traveled up and down quickly, and she smirked. "This is a good look on you."

He cocked his head and raised his brows. "What's up, Natasha?"

She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "I thought you would want to know before it hits the news. Senator Atwood is being indicted."

A wave or relief sucked the remaining tension from his shoulders. One down. So many more still out there that he'd helped put into power.

He smiled at her. "It couldn't happen to a more deserving woman."

"You're welcome." She uncrossed her arms and took a step closer. "So, are you exhausted, or would you like to release some energy?"

He gripped the towel around his waist, a flutter in his groin. Was he reading the situation right? Natasha hadn't indicated she was interested in pursuing anything more after their one-night stand.

He tilted his head at her. "What's going on here, Natasha?"

She looked up at him. "Whatever do you mean, James?"

The way she said his name made the hairs on his arms stand up. He was drawn to her, but he wasn't interested in games. People were more casual about sex and relationships today than they were in his time—though men shipping off to war certainly fostered quite a few pleasurable goodbyes back then.

He figured the direct approach was best, especially with Natasha. "Are you interested in something serious here, or just friends with benefits?"

Her grin looked genuine, and a flicker of surprise touched her eyes. "Friends with benefits? Where'd you learn that term?"

"I watch T.V. That's a thing now, right? Friends with benefits. Bootie calls?"

She laughed, and it was the first time he'd heard such a delightfully unguarded sound from her.

"We need to set parental controls for you," she said.

"I'm all done with controls."

"That you are." She slipped past him, her eyes taking in the discarded suit on the bed, then turned to him. "I like you. I don't know what this might develop into." Her smile faded and her eyes grew serious. "I trust you. You're the only person outside of Clint who…understands…." her voice faded away.

He moved toward her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "I know."

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. "I'm glad you got your second chance at a life." Then she pulled back and bumped his chest with her fist. "You've put on muscle."

"All those training exercises and workouts with Steve in the gym. He's hard to keep up with."

She nodded. "Tell me about it." With a sigh, she turned away and headed toward the door. "I take it you just want to rest now? Maybe we can…catch up…later."

"Natasha."

She stopped and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

He grinned. "You made it all about me last time. I'd like to return the favor."

Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes narrowed. "What did you have in mind?"

He tried his best cocky grin and swagger as he moved closer to her. "I've been researching."

Her eyebrows shot upward. "Oh?"

"Yeah. We didn't have sex ed in my day, but now everything's on the Internet. Charts. Diagrams. Videos."

"Diagrams?"

He bit his lower lip, and his face flushed as he remembered a few of the graphic ones. "Oh, yeah. Lots of them."

"What have you learned?"

"Well, warm-up's important. There are specific areas to pay special attention to, and…" he raised his vibranium hand, "I've gotten good finessing the repulsors on this thing. I thought of a use for them I'm pretty sure Stark never envisioned."

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on that," she said.

"So, are you game?"

She grinned and brushed her fingers across his stomach. "Let's see what you've got, Sergeant."

Author's Note:

In honor of the holiday, I thought a few people might enjoy additional reading material. Just in case, I'm posting this chapter a day early. I hope you don't mind! :) As always, I love comments, so drop me a line and let me know what you think.