When he got back to the hotel, Steve immediately checked his phone, relieved to see a message from Natasha simply saying "Idiot."
Relieved that Hermione was with her, Steve took a shower, dressed, then went in search of a flower shop to buy the biggest, most obnoxious bouquet of "Sorry-I'm-an-Idiot" flowers he could find, before knocking at Natasha's door who was staying in another cheap hotel nearby.
Natasha opened, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, a towel twisted around her hair, blowing on her wet nails as she looked him up and down. For an instant, Steve wondered if maybe she was not going to let him in, but she called him an idiot again, in Russian this time, knowing full well it was one of the few words he understood in her mother tongue. However, she did step aside to let him in. Inside, Hermione sat on the bed, in the same get-up as Natasha, but with a fierce scowl instead of a smirk.
"You're interrupting our girl's night in. If you want to stay, Captain, you will pay the price and get a manicure," Natasha warned.
Steve's first instinct was to refuse, but he relented with a sigh, knowing Hermione would not listen otherwise. He gave her the flowers, which she pointedly put in a vase using only her magic, then he gave up his hands and dignity.
His big mouth was responsible for their disagreement, so he would accept his punishment, a well-deserved reminder not to go treating dames like they're dainty things that have no mind of their own. He should know better, and, clearly, he was the one who needed protecting here.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I truly am. But I can't help being afraid when you get hurt, especially when you don't have your wand."
"But that's why we have a team. If one goes down, the others pick him up. We have done this for how many years during the war? And I didn't have my wand back then either, remember? I'll be fine. Besides, Natasha has been teaching me some combat skills."
Hermione made an awkward karate chop at him, spilling most of the varnish bottle on the bedspread.
"She is not that good," Natasha mock whispered while Hermione tried to clean up the pink mess.
"Oi! What about female solidarity?" Hermione protested.
"You can't have it both ways, darling." Natasha said, batting her eyelashes.
Hermione pouted but admitted she was quite right.
"I'll get better," she promised. "Natasha always sneaks out of the shadows when you need her anyway."
It was true the Russian spy had helped them out before, and seeing their track record, he had no doubt they would need allies again sooner rather than later. It was another good reason to let the two women abuse his nails in any case, although he personally thought the sparkly hot pink was going to clash terribly with his Captain America uniform.
The night dragged on and Steve somehow ended up sleeping on the couch while the ladies shared the bed. If Tony got wind of his staying over with them, he was so going to lie about the sleeping arrangement or the other man was going to be insufferable.
The next morning, he got a bit of revenge, because contrary to him, the ladies could have done with a couple more hours of sleep. Nothing to be done about it except grab some coffee on the way because Fury was waiting.
Natasha left them halfway to meet up with Clint, in their way to complete their own mission, although neither he nor Hermione had any idea what it was about. Not for the first time, Steve wondered if it was a good idea to keep secrets amongst themselves and hoped it wouldn't come to bite them back in the ass.
Fury's secret hideyhole was in a shipping container, lost amongst thousands of similar containers at the docks. Steve realized the guy had been ready for every eventuality for a long time. His plan B probably had a plan C and D.
The four of them went over blueprints of the Triskelion, specifically of the lower levels where the helicarriers were covertly being built. The whole operation was planned like clockwork, which bothered Steve to no end because he knew plans always went to shit. Hermione did too, and she was telling Fury as much, but he was obstinate, to say the least.
"Each and everyone of you is an experienced fighter," Fury snapped. "I expect you to follow the plan to the letter so we hit the main targets, but I also expect you to rely on your instinct and haul ass out of there if it goes sideways."
So they met again under cover of night, as close to the target as they could, four dark shadows that melted into the background. Despite his misgivings, Tony was completely unrecognisable: his armour's proportions had been changed just enough that it didn't scream Ironman. The paint job was a full black without the telltale glow in the chest, or anywhere else for that matter. Steve wondered how his repulsors would look. Could he be recognized then? Or would he still look like an evil knock-off?
This operation was still rubbing Steve the wrong way. He wasn't used to being on this side of the law, sneaking around dressed like a bank robber… it just felt wrong, and only the knowledge that he was going to thwart Hydra's plans made it worth the headache.
Fury stopped at a hidden entrance and pulled his eyepatch down. Steve couldn't see what was going on with that but the high-tech lock turned green and clicked open, as easy as that. Too easy, some might argue, but Steve wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
They all filed in, as quietly as shadows. It took a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the darkness inside, only illuminated by a few security lights. He knew the place was going to be huge, but he hadn't realized how much. Their small team looked like mere ants in comparison, so it was difficult to imagine what sort of damage they would be able to cause, if it weren't for the amount of explosives they were carrying, that is.
Fury pointed at Hermione and Tony, then up towards the roof and they gave twin thumbs up before weaving their way up in the darkness. Then Fury looked at him and Steve nodded. Everyone knew what they had to do.
They all moved so quietly, Steve wouldn't know there were three people inside who weren't supposed to be. Even, if by some stroke of bad luck, a patrol of Hydra agents walked by, they would be hard pressed to find them. Fury veered off to the first Helicarrier, the one that looked mostly finished, so Steve jogged at a light trot to the second one. To give credit where it was due, he knew exactly where to go to cause maximum damage thanks to Fury's intel. The Helicarrier was a maze of corridors, and this unfinished version with crates blocking paths and wires dangling from everywhere like Hydra tentacles trying to make a grab at him, did not make his progress any easier, but he was finally in place, at the heart of the ship: the computer console that controlled everything. With that destroyed, the helicarriers were so much dead weight and it would take months just to replace it, never matter rewiring everything. Steve carefully placed the explosive charge, the timer preset so everything blew up at the same time when everyone was safely out. He hoped the others were faring as well.
Finding his way out was much quicker and he ran into Fury already heading to the third ship.
"You take care of it," Fury whispered. "I'll check on the others."
Steve nodded. They all had enough explosives to finish the job in case one of them had been incapacitated. Fury truly was thorough when he planned something, and maybe, just this once, a plan would actually work out to the end without any complications.
Once he had dealt with the third Helicarrier which was even more of an empty husk than the second one, Steve made his way in the same direction Fury had taken. There was still twelve minutes left before they were all due to head out and Steve couldn't help but worry something could still go wrong despite going so well up to then.
However Fury was not with the others, lurking in an office instead. Steve peaked in, more explosives strapped around another computer console.
"Can't be too careful," Fury muttered when he saw him. "The others?"
Steve shook his head and looked out at the vast hanger for a flash of something familiar, but only darkness met their eyes.
"There," Steve whispered, pointing North.
Tony's repulsors were discreet enough when he flew slowly, but now, he was clearly blasting at something. "He's been spotted," he added, ready to help him out.
"We have to leave. Eight minutes left. Stark knows that and can be out of here faster than us," Fury said, grasping his arm to stop him.
Steve hesitated. Fury was right, and maybe he wouldn't think twice about it if he knew where Hermione was. Thankfully, the next instant, Tony flew over them and dropped her in his arms.
"That psycho is here. Go ahead, I'll slow him down."
"Psycho?" Fury asked.
"Bucky," Hermione hissed, wriggling out of his arms to stand on her own two feet.
"We can't leave him," Steve protested because with the amount of explosives she and Tony had set up, they were literally bringing the roof down.
"We aren't. We're going to capture him this time," she promised.
They had a very small window of time to prepare, but working together, they were out of the building and into the small crop of woods nearby, crouching in the shadows, ready to entrap the infamous Winter Soldier. Tony, their bait, arrived last, his flying unsteady. Hopefully, he was only pretending to be injured to lure his attacker closer, but seeing how lethal the Winter Soldier was, he could only hope for the best.
At first, Steve thought Bucky had not taken the bait. His target was Hermione after all, but they were sure he would follow Tony to find out where she was hiding. For his part, Tony landed, then turned around and pointed a finger towards a dark silhouette with long hair and more weapons strapped on him than Natasha and Clint put together, as if provoking him. Bucky prowled like a giant cat towards Tony, a predator ready to finish his injured prey. A shudder ran down Steve's spine when Bucky raised a heavy gun that he doubted even the Ironman armour could stop without extensive damage, but before he could shoot, a glorious, earth shattering explosion illuminated the area as if it was a sunny summer day.
Bucky whirled around as they hoped he would, and they all pounced on him at the same time. Steve had him in a chokehold while Fury gave him a good dose of tranquilizer. Tony and Hermione were holding him too, but Bucky was still struggling in his arms, so Fury and Hermione cuffed him with both mundane and magical means, those she could use without her wand in any case, but they only let go of him when he stopped fighting back so much.
"Got him?" Fury asked.
"I think so," Steve replied, refusing to let go completely of him, in part because he was afraid he would still try to escape, but mostly because he couldn't believe he really had Bucky in his arms once more.
"Let's go then."
They all headed back to Stark tower since Tony had prepared a Hulk-safe room, which was their only way to hold the Winter Soldier for now. Steve hated thinking of Bucky as such, but while they sat in the back of the van, surrounding their prisoner on all sides, Steve could see how his friend was lost to whatever he had been turned into.
Hermione sat in front of him, desperately trying to catch his eye and get him to talk, but he only glowered at the floor, jaw clenched, looking for all the world like he was plotting their murders in minute detail. It broke Steve's heart that not a trace of his friend's cocky smile and twinkling eyes was left. How the hell had Hydra sucked out all the sweetness and humour out of him? Did he even want to know? It had to be worse than anything his mind could possibly conjure… Not wanting to misdirect the burning hatred he had for Hydra towards anyone else, Steve looked away.
Once Bucky was safely under lock and key, but comfortably so, they observed him through the one way glass.
"I don't mean to be rude," Tony said, making Fury snort. "But he kinda looks like a lost cause to me."
"Good thing that's my speciality," Hermione muttered.
"In any case, that's a double strike against Hydra. They lost their precious asset and all their battleships." Fury said as he turned away. "That should buy us some time. Keep me updated."
"He really doesn't give a damn," Hermione sneered while she watched him go.
"We don't need him," Steve said, trying to placate her because her hair was charging with static electricity, and the last thing they needed was for her magic to explode out of anger again.
"When will you start?" Tony asked.
"Now," Hermione answered without hesitation.
"Shouldn't you rest?" Steve asked. "You said the mind arts was very tiring, and you don't even have your wand."
"I can manage without, and I think that's exactly what I need right now."
"Ah, she has a point. It feels like…" Tony prodded a finger towards her. "Yep, the air is definitely thicker. Magnetic field?"
"Maybe?" Hermione shrugged. "I'm going in."
"He might attack you," Steve pointed out with a sigh. "Again."
"Not if I immobilise him first."
"I'm coming with you. Just in case," Steve insisted.
He trusted Hermione, but her magic was too unpredictable right now.
"Of course you are," she agreed. "It's Bucky. Come on."
As soon as Hermione touched the door, Bucky was poised to attack, although he seemed to think better of it when he saw the two of them enter. He retreated to the back of the wall instead.
"Bucky," Hermione said softly. "I want to help you. I know you're still in there."
But his face was as blank as ever.
"Remember what you told us? That you were afraid they'd put ideas in your head? That you were afraid they'd change you?"
Steve frowned in confusion for a moment before he recalled that one and only time Bucky had told them about his ordeal under Zola's tender care. Not in detail, but the fear had been real and lingered long after he had rescued him. Was Hermione right? Had Hydra began to change him already by then? Sure, the Bucky he rescued from Azzano had not the carefree, fun loving Bucky from Brooklyn, but to be fair, no soldier was once they got a taste of the battlefield.
"They tried on me too. Remember?" Hermione continued when Bucky gave no sign he even heard her. "But I knew how to protect my mind, and I want to try to protect yours too."
If it's not too late, Steve thought bitterly. No wonder Hermione wanted to give it a try despite her lack of a wand.
"I just need you to sit-"
Suddenly, Bucky bounded into the air, straight at Hermione. Steve came in between them without thinking, just as Hermione's magic lashed out, hitting him instead of their prisoner. Levitating up to the ceiling with no way back down, Steve watched in horror as Bucky stood over Hermione.
"Bucky! No!" Steve shouted, hoping to distract him.
And it worked. His steely eyes glanced at him, lingering for a beat too long, a flicker of doubt maybe, of recognition hopefully… then he too was hit by Hermione's magic, except he keeled over, unmoving.
Hermione took a few seconds to gather herself then looked up at him.
"Sorry!" she said. "Ready to come back down?"
"As if you have to ask," he replied with a huff before the strange bubble of invisible magic around him burst and gravity took hold.
He landed easily on his own two feet and checked on Bucky, kneeling next to him. He pushed back strands of his too long hair, sadness akin to a familiar grief overwhelming him.
"Can you try entering his mind with him immobilised like this?" he asked since Bucky couldn't move and had his eyes open, unblinking.
If Steve didn't know better, he would think he was dead.
"I don't like it, but maybe it's best," Hermione agreed. "Can you, erm... straddle him in case he wakes up. I'll hold his head still."
And so they did. Hermione delicately put his head on her lap so she could keep a steady eye contact with him, while Steve straddled his middle, holding onto his arms, one of which was now a literal weapon. This way, if the spell he was under fizzled out without warning, Hermione would be safe, for a few seconds at least, enough to get out of harm's way.
The process of entering his mind wasn't as easy as Steve had hoped however. Hermione tried her spell several times over, her hissed whisper of "legilimens" growing more desperate with each repetition until she suddenly went quiet. However, her eyes were wide open, unblinking.
Steve counted the minutes passing. Five, ten… Was this a good sign? Bucky's face was still immobilised, unreadable. Four minutes later, Hermione reeled back while Bucky twisted under him and threw up. Quickly, Steve helped Bucky on his side while he retched so he didn't choke on his own vomit.
"Bucky?" he asked as he pulled his hair back, but the metal arm swiped him away, catching his chin.
Not Bucky then. Steve carefully stepped back and helped Hermione up. She looked almost as out of it as Bucky, so he walked her to the door where Tony took over. Steve couldn't leave Bucky alone in such a state though, so he rummaged in the Hulk-proof room, finding towels to mop up the mess, wetting another to clean Bucky up. Hermione's spell had left him as weak as a kitten, so his next attempt to swipe him away fell short.
"You should sleep it off. Clint said it gave him a massive headache when Hermione did that to him," Steve babbled, tapping the side of his head.
With slow and careful movements, Steve passed a wet towel over Bucky's face, wiping away vomit, sweat and whatever Hydra had grimmed him with.
He threw the towels near the door when he was done, wishing he could wash his hair too, but knowing not to push his limits.
"I'm going to carry you to the mattress, okay?"
Unsurprisingly, Bucky didn't answer. Steve looked him in the eye, almost relieved to still see the glint of murder lingering there. For a moment, Steve feared Hermione had fried his brain the way she did electronics. Yet, Bucky didn't protest, but maybe he couldn't. In any case, he would recuperate more easily on the mattress, so Steve went ahead and picked him up.
Bucky was heavier that he had been before, but the discrepancy could simply come from the metal arm he now sported, although he seemed bulkier than he used to be as well. Once he had settled him down, Steve took it one step further and took off Bucky's massive boots. He would sleep better for one, he didn't need them and if it slowed him down even a little in case he tried to escape, all the better. Besides, that and all the rest of his garb belonged to Hydra, and Steve really wanted to tear it all off of him.
Small steps, Steve berated himself.
The least he could do was be as patient with Bucky as he had been with him when he had asthma attacks.
"Sleep as much as you need, Buck," he said.
He sure looked like he could use a decade or two of sleep.
When he exited, Tony was back from tucking Hermione in bed, now looking through the one way glass with a frown.
"That was… intense," Tony said. "Did it work?"
"I don't think so, but at least it calmed him down. He had no strength left to attack me, but who knows how long that's going to last. You're sure he can't escape from there?"
"Not a chance," Tony snorted.
Steve glanced back at Bucky. He almost seemed small and defenseless slumped on the slim mattress on the ground.
"I could use a drink," Tony said. "Wanna join me?"
Steve wished he could get drunk.
"I hope you got something strong enough," Steve replied, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his friend and lover, found, but still lost.
"Doubt it, but I've got more than you can possibly drink. Let's see how much you can handle. For science."
Steve shook his head, but followed Tony. He had tried to get drunk once, after Bucky fell from the train. Bottle after bottle of strong liquor, and nothing to show for it, not even a slight buzz or mild hangover… But he would let Tony talk his ears off, if only so he didn't dwell on their utter failure at helping Bucky. So far, they had only managed to bring him back and make him slightly ill. He really didn't recognize them at all. Not him, not Hermione. They might as well be strangers, and it broke his heart.