Chapter 1
Wolves weren't supposed to be without packs but ever since Steve left Bucky has been floating. There was no one around him he trusted enough to shift with but he felt his inner wolf clawing away in the back of his mind demanding to be let out. He ignored it. He'd found a pattern to calm the listlessness of the wolf. Get up, go to therapy, stare at his therapist while she writes passive-aggressively in her little notebook, and then run as far as his legs could take him. The wolf wanted to snap its teeth around her neck and it's the first time they'd agreed about something since Bucky got most of his memories back.
She knew. Bucky knew she knew about Vienna, about Zemo, and the damned book about him pretending to be a psychiatrist yet here she was scratching away trying to play mind games to get him to talk. He hated it. He had spent too much time in his goddamn life with governments trying to fight over him like a piece of meat. The U. S. government was the first and most recent contender and Bucky wasn't naive to that. They wanted the Winter Soldier but what they had was Bucky Barnes.
His therapist paused and tapped her pencil twice on her notepad. He clenched his fist in discomfort and then relaxed each finger on his metal hand. For as fucked up as Zemo was he still made a more believable psychiatrist than the woman in front of him. If this was the type of person the VA was hiring to talk to vets it was no wonder so many of them were walking around fucked in the head.
"James, do you want to tell me about the nightmares?"
No. No, he really didn't.
"I don't have nightmares."
It was true. How could they be nightmares if he'd done everything in them? They weren't nightmares, they were memories.
His therapist sighed and began scratching away. The sound grated on his ears. The wolf growled.
"Can you not?"
"Hmm, why don't you tell me about how your inner shift is doing today James?"
His inner wolf would really like to take a bite out of her fucking notepad! That was how his inner shift was doing.
"Fine," He grunted. She sighed again and set down the notepad. He could tell this was going to go the same way his first five sessions had gone. That was exactly nowhere.
"James, I can't help you if you won't let me in on what's going on in your head. You haven't shifted in three months, that's concerning. There are professionals that can help you reconnect with your inner if that's what you need."
That wasn't what he needed. He could feel the canine prowling under his skin every waking moment of his goddamn day. He couldn't explain that to his therapist though how the hell could she possibly understand what that felt like?
"I'm fine."
The problem wasn't that he couldn't feel his inner wolf; the wolf was always on the edge of his mind. His problem was that sometimes the wolf and him were too much in sync and Bucky couldn't hold the wolf back. He couldn't distinguish where he ended and where the wolf began. Frankly, it was terrifying and Bucky was worried that if he shifted one day the wolf or him, or maybe both of them would simply decide not to shift back at all.
Everyone shifted, that wasn't strange. Some people were just more open about it. They could go prancing around Central Park as a pony if they wanted. Bucky couldn't even with deprogramming. Predator shifts were always seen as unpredictable, at least in the 40s they had been. Steve told him there'd been a predator rights movement in the 70s and public opinion was changing but that didn't help him feel more comfortable. All the public sees when they look at him is the Winter Soldier; he doesn't want to see the shitstorm that comes from them figuring out he has a predator shift too. He remembers the back alley beatings predator shifts would get in Brooklyn until they snapped and tore out some fuckers' throats, then came the 'justified' execution and the story in the paper about how predator shifts were too unpredictable and dangerous to be trusted. It was a cycle and the world might have changed a lot since the forties but fear and hatred were eternal.
No, even if Bucky's inner wolf wasn't feral it wouldn't be a good idea for him to shift.
Shuri managed to pull the programming out of him in Wakanda but his wolf was too feral. It ran on instinct and after being locked away for so many years without him shifting he wasn't really in the driver's seat. He was terrified, as the soldier his memories of the handful of times he'd been forced to shift were pure pain. The wolf didn't play by any of HYDRA's rules and the conditioning didn't carry over. After his handlers realized that they'd done everything to keep him from shifting. What good was an asset if it bit you?
The first time he'd shifted of his own volition in the twenty-first century he'd spent a week in the woods and when Steve finally found him he nearly took a chunk out of his back leg before Steve's golden retriever whine found its way through and the wolf had dropped him like a gooey sack of rocks. Bucky remembered the instant relief and sense of belonging when the wolf put together who exactly Steve was. He was pack, the last of his pack and the wolf settled.
But now Steve was gone, retired, and Bucky wasn't sure if he unstoppered the wolf without him if he'd be able to put the genie back into the bottle so he simply hadn't shifted.
Bucky was far from the only one with a fucked up inner shift. In the war they called it shellshock, people got so messed up that they lost their balance between their conscious mind and their instincts when they shifted. Some people couldn't shift back.
He remembered one guy whose inner shift was a beagle, whenever the shelling started the guy just turned. He'd curl up into a ball with his head buried under his paws and whine. He was a risk to his whole goddam unit. It was in that hellish winter in Bastogne when it finally caught up with him. He got shot in a foxhole by Germans one night in a raid, at least that was the official story. There were other stories Bucky remembered from the war that were worse. He'd heard stories of men shifting and killing their way through their own unit, no recognition between friend and foe. Some people deserted; they just lost it and slipped off into the woods never to be seen again. Animals weren't meant for war and humans were just animals.
"James, James, are you still with me?" Dr. Raynor's insistent voice poked its way through his memories. He blinked back to focusing on her. His body was far from the bloody fields in France.
"Want to tell me what you were thinking about?"
"The war."
She scratched something else into her notebook. He glanced at the clock. It'd only been fifteen minutes. This was going to be a long session.
Bucky Barnes didn't get Sam Wilson. He'd been texting him daily for the last three months. Bucky had not responded once. Not to the 'How are you?', not to the 'If you need to talk', and certainly not to the 'Steve wouldn't want you to be by yourself'. He wasn't sure what sort of obligation Wilson thought he was under since Steve left but whatever it was he wasn't. Bucky was doing fine. He went to therapy and he tracked down the people he'd wronged. That's it, that's all he needed. So what if he slept on the floor in his apartment? He liked it better that way.
As much as he didn't want to deal with Sam Wilson's persistence he understood why Steve left the birdbrain the shield. He wasn't like Steve, not exactly but there was something there, the same iron will that Steve had, the never faltering moral compass.
It was the right choice. That's why when he turns on the five o'clock morning news and sees a green soldier parading around in the stars and stripes with the shield he crushes his ceramic coffee cup in his metal hand.
It feels like Hydra just strapped him to the chair and ran 1000 volts through his brain. It didn't compute.
It was like when they set Steve up to sell war bonds. It had to be a joke. The DoD didn't seriously think they could find another blue-eyed blond soldier boy and stick him in the costume like everything was fine.
The anger bubbles up. It wasn't the damn shield that made Steve Captain America. It was spitting in the face of his legacy and everything they'd sacrificed in that war and since then.
No, Steve had given that to Sam, and here was some little punk who had never met Steve saying they were like brothers.
His inner wolf howled and Bucky just barely resisted putting his fist through the TV. The shield wasn't technically his territory but Bucky would pay money to see someone try and explain it to the wolf. And right now there was some smug jackass holding that shield like he owned it.
There was only one person with an explanation for how this happened and his name was Sam Wilson. Bucky grabbed his coat on the way out. Wilson had some explaining to do.
Bucky wasn't sure what he wanted to say to Sam. He hadn't been able to find the words on the plane or on the ride to Shreveport's air force base. The soldiers on guard duty parted like the red sea after they see his id. He pretends he can't hear the way their heart rates pick up when they look at him. There are posters of the Steve imposter everywhere looking so self-satisfied. Bucky wants to punch something and has to resist the urge of tearing down every one he comes across as he makes his way towards the hanger. It doesn't take him long to sniff out Sam in the cargo hold. Sam looks surprised and unhappy to see him as he follows the other man through the air force base.
As soon as Sam sees him he breathes a barely audible curse under his breath, "Don't start." He orders.
Bucky ignores him, "You had no right-"
"We're not doing this. You're not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It's over, Bucky." Sam dismisses his eyes focused on the tablet under his fingers. Bucky wants to growl, he tamps it down as Sam continues, " I have bigger things to deal with now."
"What could be bigger than this?" He doesn't manage to keep the growl fully out of his voice this time and Sam looks up and furrows his eyebrows before he flips the tablet around for Bucky to see.
"This guy."
There's a man with a red handprint over some sort of hockey mask. It looks like there's some sort of fire burning behind him. Bucky shrugs. He doesn't recognize the man or the symbol marking his mask but that doesn't mean much, not with him being gone for five years.
"He has connections with rebel organizations all over Eastern and Central Europe, and he's strong. Too strong." Sam gives him a meaningful look like that phrase is supposed to mean something to him.
"And?" Bucky snaps. He feels frustrated, he came here for a fight and Sam isn't giving him one so he wants the birdbrain to get to the goddamn point.
"Well, he's been connected to this online group called the Flag Smashers. Now, Redwing traced them to a building somewhere outside of Munich. So that's where I'm going." Sam shrugs on his wing pack and climbs inside the plane the young airman who keeps looking at Sam like he's a god come to earth climbs into the cockpit. Bucky let out a groan; this is a terrible idea. Sam and some wet-behind-the-ears hero worshipper headed off to god knows where to track some secret organization. There's absolutely no way that could go sideways.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, no you're not!" Sam holds up his hand like the simple gesture could force him back.
Bucky sneers he was a highly trained assassin; he'd like to see someone here try to stop him from getting on that plane. The young airforce man seems to pick up on his train of thought and thankfully says nothing as he climbs into the plane. Sam scowls but Bucky could really care less what Sam thinks. Sam thinks Redwing counts as backup.
From there, his day only gets worse. Bucky could deal with jumping out of a plane without a parachute. He'd done it before, his terror from heights has nothing on pure muscle memory from decades of active duty. He could deal with getting his ass handed to him, it'd been happening since he was a kid. He could even deal with the knowledge that they have half a dozen super soldiers running around and causing havoc. What he can't deal with is goddamn John Walker and his sidekick coming down from the sky and acting like they're his goddamn savior Jesus Christ. The sanctimonious stuck-up bastards.
It only goes downhill from there. They get thrown from the truck and the Flagsmashers get away with the vaccines. It's going to be a long walk to the nearest city.
"We gotta figure out where the serum's coming from," Bucky mutters. He has the scent of the people on the truck but he's not exactly a tracker and they're long gone by now. Their scent had a burnt synthetic smell to it that wasn't in any way natural. He could recognize them if they came close again. He won't mention it to Sam yet, outside of Steve and a handful of Wakandians; there's no one alive that knows what his shift is and he'd like to keep it that way.
"Yeah. And how in the hell after 80 years are there eight Super Soldiers runnin' loose?"
Bucky's silent on that too. He has a pretty good idea of how that's possible but that's not an easy subject to talk about either. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to even broach the topic with Sam because Walker and his posse roll-up.
"So that didn't go as planned, huh?" Walker says with a half-smile. It might look charming on someone else but on Walker it just looks smug. Bucky glares. He gestures for the driver to slow to a roll so he can chat and invites them into his little paddywagon. Obviously, the man must be as dense as a brick wall to think that's a good idea.
Bucky only gets into the shitty truck because Sam does and he refuses to let Sam out of his sight with people he doesn't trust. Walker continues to ramble and Bucky tunes him out, he digs his metal arm into his wrist focusing on the pressure as his eyes lock onto the shield Walker has on his back. Steve's shield. The Howlies' shield. Their shield. The wolf paces unhappily under his skin. It wants nothing more than to snatch the shield and to run. Bucky wishes he could. Hell, he'd spent half of the plane ride to Louisiana thinking through his options.
He could probably steal the shield and run off to Wakanda again, it was made with metal stolen from them anyways, so technically even they had more of a claim to it than Walker. Not that the American government would see it that way. The only problem is that if he did that his pardon would definitely be revoked and he'd probably never be able to leave the African nation again. He wouldn't mind it except- his eyes land on Sam. He has some unfinished business Steve left to him and he has a few more names he needs to scratch off his list before he goes back to the goats.
Bucky zones back into the conversation happening around him just in time to hear Walker say, "Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together."
"That's not happening," Bucky doesn't realize it's him that's spoken until all the eyes in the vehicle are suddenly on him. His hackles rise at the sudden attention and he lets go of his non-metal arm, alert and ready to move if something happens.
"I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-" Walker starts.
Bucky doesn't let him finish, "Just 'cause you carry that shield, it doesn't mean you're Captain America." The wolf lets out a happy yip in his head as Walker flinches back at the words, settling roughly back into the metal truck bed.
"Look, I've done the work, okay?" It sounds pathetic on his ears. Bucky bets he never faked his medical records in six different states to try to get into a war that would definitely kill him.
Bucky meets Walker's blue eyes in a challenge, "You ever jump on top of a grenade?"
"Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It's a thing I do with my helmet. It's a reinforced helmet. It's a long story, but, any…Look, we've got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?"
Bucky bites the inside of his check to contain the low growl. Sam must hear something from him because he gives him a concerned glance. Bucky tries to pass it off with a roll of his eyes, but inside he's furious. This motherfucker's audacity.
Sam lets his eyes slide back to Walker as he answers. Bucky doesn't understand why he's giving Walker the time of day, "They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip. Maybe they're just trying to help."
Bucky snorts. Yeah, usually people that are trying to help jack up on unstable chemicals and steal refugee relief supplies. No, if Bucky had to guess this was about far more than just terrorism or even the world reordering. The Flagsmashers might be nobodies but they'd got their hands on a resource coveted by every government, army, and underground organization on the planet. This was deeper than whatever their motto was.
"We can work out their motives later," Sam says, "Right now we need to figure out where they're going. How'd you track 'em here? The Flagsmashers?"
"Uh," Walker and his sidekick share a long look. Bucky crosses his arms he can already tell this is going to be good. He learned to read bullshit on an officer's face eighty years ago and he's never been wrong, "No, we didn't track them, we tracked you, uh, through Redwing."
Sam sucks in air through his teeth, "You hacked my tech?"
Bucky's eyes narrow. He knew you couldn't trust any government agency as far as you could throw them. They all had skeletons in their closets. Hell Bucky had put a lot of skeletons there himself but this was different, Sam- the Avengers, they were supposed to be different especially after what Sam and Steve did in D.C. They should have been different; they'd earned that.
Walker chuckles like he didn't admit that their government was spying on an American hero, "Sorry. It's not exactly hacking. It's government property. Kind of the government." Walker gestures to himself and Bucky glares, thinking about what it would feel like to stick a knife into Walker's hand, "Does he always just stare like that?"
"You get used to it." Sam's voice is fake light. It's different from his earlier tone and Bucky doesn't understand why they're still in this goddamn truck.
"Okay, look," Walker clears his throat, "you know, things have gotten kind of, uh…"
"Chaotic." Sam provides flatly.
"We have a lot of resources. If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could…" Walker prompts a hopeful look flickering over his face like somehow they should just forget about the spying and the shield.
"No," Bucky speaks for both of them. He would rather go back to the Red Room than work with these two.
The sidekick finally speaks up, "Look, I got mad respect for both of y'all. But you were getting your asses kicked till we showed up."
Bucky holds in his scoff. The only reason any of those new super soldiers walked out alive is because the Avengers, and that's what Sam was, didn't typically do lethal missions. Their strength had thrown him for a moment, but if he'd been trying to be lethal no one would have walked out of there alive. Bucky was a killer there was no way around that and sometimes it took more focus when he was fighting to stop himself from dealing lethal blows than from not killing his opponents. "Who are you?"
"Lemar Hoskins." The man puffs up his chest like the name is supposed to mean something to him.
"Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins." Sam prods, ever the polite one between the two of them.
"I'm Battlestar. John's partner."
"'Battlestar'? Stop the car!" Bucky yells and he doesn't even wait before he's throwing himself out of the truck bed and landing in a crouch beside the road. He can't keep looking at those people for one more minute or he's going to lose what little grip he has left on his self-control. He takes off at a brisk walk. He needs to get out of hearing range; he can't listen to anymore. Battlestar? What did they think titles like that were for? He bets they probably think he goes around calling himself the Winter Soldier proudly. Names have meanings: Captain America, the Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, they aren't something that can be picked up without care, and if those two can't understand that and think that this is a game that's a dangerous thing. His vibranium arm whirls as he clenches his fist.
Walker and Hoskins are goddamn children playing at being heroes and it's going to get people killed.
"Bucky!" Sam calls behind him, his feet falling heavy on the gravel, "Wait up."
Bucky doesn't stop but he does slow down. As much as he doesn't want to admit it he's gone and gotten himself involved in this shit. He'll help Sam take care of this, he'll make him see what a mistake it was to give up the shield but Sam definitely isn't going to like their path forward. Bucky can already start to see the pieces sliding into place and they don't make a pretty picture.
Shifts ran in families. If they weren't outright the same animal then they'd at least be in the same species. Kids with mixed shift families could get more complicated and sometimes turned into animals that neither of their parents were.
That's why Bucky isn't surprised to see that Isaiah's grandson is a stag just like the man himself. That doesn't mean he's prepared to deal with the young buck fully shifting in the house as Isaiah flings the metal platter across the room embedding it in the wall as he yells for them to get out of his house and leave him and his family alone. They leave with stag horns pointedly showing them out.
They barely make it off Isaiah's front lawn before Sam turns on him, "Why didn't you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up?!" Sam snaps out his voice is taut like a whip and bordering on hysterical. His eyes flicker black for a second before returning to brown. He's having such a visceral reaction he's about to shift. Bucky thinks his words over carefully, "I asked you a question, Bucky."
"I know," Bucky says, keeping his tone even. Nothing about this is easy.
"Steve didn't know about him?" Sam's exhale is too quick as his volume increases like he's about to have a panic attack. The anger hiding his inner turmoil.
"He didn't. I didn't tell him." Simple words, the truth. Bucky's soul was already stained, Steve's didn't need to be, besides that wasn't what Isaiah wanted or needed.
"So you're telling me that there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?" Sam hisses out angrily, his eyes are all black now as he glares.
A siren whoops behind them flashing blue and red.
"Hey," The deep voice of a policeman.
"What's up, man?" Sam's voice instantly evens out, he's hiding his anger and his eyes flick back to brown in an instant. Bucky can hear his heartbeat pick up and he starts to sweat. Bucky frowns at the stress reaction.
"Is there a problem here?" The cop inquires from his cruiser, his partner stepping out of the car and walks towards them.
"No, we're just talking."
"We're fine." Bucky inserts. His wolf doesn't like being boxed in like this.
"Can I see your ID?" The officer nearest to them asks, one hand held out expectantly the other resting on his hip holster.
"I don't have ID. Why?" Sam asks, his voice is still neutral but his heartbeat spikes up again.
Bucky gets between the officer and Sam. It's pure instinct, a way to make himself the target and also show the threat what they'll be dealing with if they step closer to his pac- to Sam.
"We're just talking," Bucky repeats again. He doesn't like this.
"Is he bothering you?" The officer in front of them asks.
"No, he's not bothering me." Bucky nearly snorts at the ridiculousness, "Do you know who this is?" Bucky gestures behind him at Sam.
It takes a minute but then there's a look of recognition in the cop in the car he loudly whispers to his partner, "Hey, these guys are Avengers."
His partner immediately pales, "Oh, God, I am so sorry, Mr. Wilson," The cop chuckles nervously, "I didn't recognize you without the goggles." He holds his hands up in circles around his eyes, " I'm really, really sorry about this. The…"
Another set of sirens whoops behind them as two other police cruisers show up cutting them off from the street. The officer in the cruiser must have radioed for backup.
"Guys," the cop sighs, "just wait here, okay? Just…I'll sort this out." There are hushed whispers from across the road that Bucky can make out every syllable. It seems like cops were shitheads no matter the decade. He tunes them out as he turns to Sam.
"I didn't… I didn't tell anybody because he had already been through enough." Bucky whispers to Sam. He can still feel the unease dripping off Sam but he wants Sam to understand. He needs Sam to understand that sometimes after everything all you want to do is forget. If the world knew Isaiah would never be at peace again, just like him. Sometimes Bucky wishes he was still on the run in Eastern Europe where he was just one more face in the masses.
Sam purses his lips, "We'll talk about this later."
The same officer as before returns looking like he's about to tell them their mother's dead, "Mr. Barnes, there's a warrant out for your arrest."
Bucky blinks he hadn't expected that.
"Look, the president pardoned him for all that." Sam tries stepping past Bucky to interject. Bucky doesn't give him the chance, cutting off his approach to staying between him and the cops.
"Not for that. You missed your court-mandated therapy. It's like missing a check-in with your PO. I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes, you're under arrest."
Bucky doesn't even think as he holds out his hands for show and the familiar weight of handcuffs clink across his wrists. Bucky sighs, he's not looking forward to seeing Dr. Raynor. This day kept getting better and better.
Dr. Raynor was standing next to Sam, chatting with him just beyond the hallway from the holding cells. Even from this distance her image was perfectly manicured, not a hair out of place. Bucky grimaced but moved closer. He'd better get this over with.
His enhanced senses pick up the conversation before he even pushes the doors open into the main lobby of the police station, "Sam. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Dr. Raynor. I'm James's therapist." Bucky frowns at the title. Therapy is not the word he would use for their sessions.
"So nice to meet you." Sam's baritone replies, Bucky can imagine the smile he must be giving Raynor, "Thank you for getting him out."
"That was not me," Bucky makes it halfway across the lobby to Sam before the comment registers.
"Christina. It's great to see you again." Walker's unwelcome voice sounds. Apparently, today was a test from God.
"You gotta be kidding me. You know him?" Bucky shoves his way into the conversation interrupting before Sam could say some other polite bullshit or worse yet say thank you to Walker.
"Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day." Dr. Raynor says, not letting anything else into her voice. She doesn't need to. Bucky had googled good ol' Johnny Walker after he'd seen him showboating around in the shield. Walker did special ops, some were off the grid black ops, if Raynor as a psychiatrist was involved with any of that it meant she did interrogations. Of course, the U. S. government had given the hundred-year-old POW a black ops interrogator. Why wouldn't they?
He let out a low chuckle. When did the country he'd once vowed to protect get so fucked up?
"I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I'd step in. Bucky's not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer." Bucky pauses his urge to snort at Walker's confidence that they would ever work together at his last statement. No more court-ordered therapy? Okay, that was something. Not enough to make him want to work with Johnny boy but he'd take that.
"We haven't finished our work. Who authorized this?" Dr. Raynor demands. She's standing up straighter trying to assert dominance over the situation. It would be amusing if the person she was trying to do it didn't have two feet and a hundred pounds on her. As it was it was just sad.
"He's too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I. You too, Wilson. I'll be outside." Walker gives them a little smile and waves before heading to the front of the station.
The word asset rockets through his head. Asset. Asset. Soldat. The wolf howled.
"James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam." Bucky doesn't even recognize his body is moving until he's sitting down this time in an actual interrogation room. Asset compliance. Of course, that's why therapy had been part of his pardon. The government wanted to see exactly what was left in his brain to fuck with. They were hoping his semi-unstable self would spill his guts to their court-appointed operative because the U.S. government was always looking for more assets, more weapons. They could never have enough.
"So… Who would like to start?" Raynor says. Bucky stays quiet, turning over the missing pieces. His eyes are glued to the door, his instincts are urging him to run, to move, to rip out the threat's throat. His wolf didn't like the therapy session at all. His wolf didn't want to be in this room and they were in complete agreement on that front.
"All right, look, Dr. Raynor? I get it, why you want me to talk to Freaky Magoo over here. But I'm 100% fine."
Bucky took in a long breath through his nose. Sure Sam wasn't about to have a panic attack but his heart rate was still elevated from earlier. God forbid Bucky ever work with someone that actually knew what the definition of fine actually was.
"It is my job to make sure that you're okay," Bucky narrowed his eyes at that, "And so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional, but it's the only way that I can see if you're getting over whatever's eating at you." Sam wasn't here because Raynor was worried about his well-being. He was here because Bucky had been with him, because they thought they could use Sam or because they wanted to see how Bucky reacted. The wolf was prowling in his head, awake and on guard.
"This is ridiculous," Sam said resting his hand across the table. Bucky stayed silent. He didn't trust himself to not growl if he opened his mouth right now.
"So, who wants to go first? No volunteers? Wow. How surprising. Okay. We're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?"
"No Doc can't say I am," Sam replies leaning back in his chair and sighing.
"Okay, it goes like this," Raynor crosses her hands as she explains, "Suppose that while you're sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?"
A still silence takes over the room as Bucky says nothing and Raynor looks between the two of them expectantly. That's fine Bucky would very much appreciate it if it stayed silent until they could leave and then he would make it a point to never see Raynor again mandated or not.
Sam fidgets and it's all over as he turns to glare, "Bucky, would you say something? I don't want to be in here all night because you're being a stubborn ass."
"You want me to say something." Bucky says flatly, staring at Sam, "You want me to talk about all the shit I've seen or," He twists towards Raynor, "maybe you just want to know what other secrets I have locked up in my head?" It's more words than Bucky has said in a long time. More words since he said goodbye to Steve. Bucky can't seem to stop the words from tumbling out. He's afraid if his lips stop moving he might not ever talk again, he might lose his words so he doesn't stop he goes for the kill. "Well, I don't want to talk about that bullshit, so sorry doc. You see what Sammy and I here have to work out is pretty damn simple and now that we're actually stuck in this goddamn room I guess maybe he can finally answer," Bucky locks his eyes with Sam's, "Why did you give up that shield?"
Sam flinches back like he's been slapped. Then like a rubber band he's jolting forward, cold fury in his voice, "Why are you making such a big deal out of something that has nothing to do with you?"
"Steve believed in you. He trusted you! He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield, that is… that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy." Their legacy. The Howlies' legacy. The last good thing they'd done. "He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing." Bucky can feel his voice reverberating in his throat as he finishes. It's a growl, he can't stop it. He can hear Raynor making her skritchy skritch scratch notes in that fucking notebook!
"Shut up!" Sam hisses his eyes going black again like he's going to shift. Bucky rolls his shoulders back, a challenge, "Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?"
Bucky scoffs.
"You know what, Doc?" Sam stands up. His metal chair screeches against the floor, "I don't have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we're done, we both can go on separate, long vacations and never see each other again and you can keep doing the staring or whatever it is you do in this cyborg's session."
"I'd like that." Bucky lets out. The wolf hasn't calmed and Bucky's words and the thought of Sam leaving behind them has it whining like a puppy. Bucky shoves it so far down he can barely feel his shifts mournful cries. It won't last but he needs this to be over, he can't deal with this emotional whiplash.
"Great. Well, let's get to work. Thanks, Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better," Sam dips his head angrily at Raynor and if Bucky was in a better mood he might laugh at Sam's rudeness as it was he just wanted to be gone, "I'll see you outside." Sam grits out as the door swings open and Sam exits.
Bucky wastes no time scrambling to follow them even as he hates the thought of turning his back on Raynor. He has his hand twisting the doorknob open when Raynor calls after him, "Thank you. That was really great."
Yeah, he bets it was. Bucky slams the door on the way out and the whole wall shakes.
He'd told Sam they needed Zemo and he was right. Walker had nothing. The people he might have once trusted for intelligence were out of the picture or behind the times due to the snap. There was one group obsessed with super soldiers and that was HYDRA. Right now there was only one living person that had HYDRA's secrets. That's why he was in Germany. He feels like he's hyped up. Nothing good ever happens to him in Germany.
The guard in front of him is leading him through the maze-like prison. They're four levels below the surface and the number of rooms is thinning. The wolf can feel the danger in the air and he's on edge as he enters the maximum security section of the prison.
Bucky's not usually one for small talk but the looming silence has him shooting questions to the guard as they walk, "What's he turn into?" He asks the guard as they head towards the doors at the end of the hallway.
Steve had pulled Zemo's records but his shift wasn't listed and after the fall of the Sokovian government, their records were scattered to the wind. That or as a member of a covert ops team they kept it under lock and key. The guy hadn't flinched let alone shifted in Siberia even when Steve damn near choked him out. That took some iron will; shifts didn't like sitting on the sidelines when they were hurting.
"Damned if I know. The guy doesn't shift."
Bucky stopped for a half step, "Doesn't shift?"
"Hasn't not in the six years he's been here. We'd have caught it on camera. If that doesn't tell you there's something wrong with his mind I don't know what does. We brought in specialists, psychologists," Bucky grimaces; he can only imagine how badly Zemo tore them up. People that knew how deep the rabbit hole of the human mind went weren't the kind of people that wanted therapy, "The guy ran them all off. After the first year, the department didn't bother."
Six years. Bucky hadn't shifted when he was on ice but between the mind wipes and the years frozen time was spotty then. Even he'd shifted in the last six years, infrequently but at least it was something and he was far from a beacon of stability.
The guard pointed him to the door, unlocked it, and gave him a nod as he stood at attention. Bucky dipped his head in thanks and walked into Zemo's cell.
The lighting was dim and the grey concrete walls with soundproofing were dismal. Despite the construction, the cell was comfortably furnished. There was a plastic chair and several thick books stacked on a small desk.
It was a far cry from the prisons Bucky had spent time in the last time he was in Germany. Figures the bad guys get treated softly while the good guys get tortured.
"Rusted, longing," A gravelly voice begins in Russian with no hesitation. The inner Wolf snarls and Bucky doesn't blame him. He keeps a straight face and stares Zemo down.
Zemo is sitting there in a grey jumpsuit. He's clean-shaven, his hands are folded in his lap. He looks like the picture of peace despite the words demanding compliance and violence pouring out of his mouth.
Bucky takes a breath, "That doesn't work anymore."
"I know. I wanted to see what you would do." Zemo leans forward on his bed. His face is now lit by the overhead lights, "Something is still in there."
Bucky manages to restrain his snarl but just barely. He takes a deep breath. The sanitized environment prickles against his nose. He takes another breath and stares Zemo down letting him babble but he tunes it out focusing on the blinking light of the security camera in the corner. Constant observation for six years, unlike Bucky Zemo hadn't been among the snapped so it really was a true six years.
When Zemo finally gets tired of hearing himself talk, Bucky speaks up, "Someone recreated the super-soldier serum. I need to find out who."
Zemo stands from his position on the bed and approaches the glass wall, his head cocked to the side watching him in interest. Bucky can see the gears turning in his mind.
"You are assuming HYDRA has something to do with this which is why you came to me. Which means you are desperate." His analysis is spot on and every one of his statements rings true. Zemo folds his hands behind his back and stands up straighter, a small half-smirk forming on his lips, "Lucky for you I know where to begin."
It's not that Bucky wanted to break Zemo out of prison, he just didn't have any other options. He tried to explain it to Sam the best way he could but he could hear Sam's heart rate accelerate with every word.
Sam looks one second away from popping into his squirrel form on pure instinct to continue his screeching.
"He practically broke himself out," Bucky growls out. He doesn't see how Sam doesn't get this. They're on a limited-time run to do this right. If they miss the Flagsmashers or their supply line and the serum gets released there's no way that they're getting the genie back into its bottle. Sometimes you have to do things that are a bit unsavory to accomplish what needs to be done. It was the price that had to be paid.
"Oh, no you did not. That doesn't make it better, Bucky that makes it so much worse!"
"If I could just-" Zemo starts from the sidelines where he's watching this verbal sparring match.
"NO!" Sam and him scream in unison. The last thing they need is Zemo butting in and reminding him exactly how terrible of an idea this is. The problem is they have no contacts, between the return of the blipped and the chaos governments are facing all over the world, global intelligence wasn't what it used to be. Not that Bucky was complaining, what it used to be was HYDRA and he shivers to think what HYDRA would have done in the five years of the blip.
Zemo was a genius and more importantly was an intelligence operative. The Winter Soldier had never been in charge of finding intelligence or planning operations. He was the weapon, the asset sent out as the executioner. Sam was good in a fight, and not bad at planning but he was too good. He was no Clint Barton or Natasha Romanov. Sam cared just as much about how the job got done as that the job was done. Sometimes Sam Wilson reminded him so much of Steve it made him want to put his fist through the wall. Bucky didn't have a problem with getting his hands dirty, he didn't have the tools though, Zemo had the tools and Bucky had no problem getting him out of his box to use him. Isn't that what Zemo had done to him in Vienna after all?
Turnabout is fair play.
Author's Note: I'm back on the Madrifour (Sam/Bucky/Sharon/Zemo) ship. I can't help myself it never left my brain. This was supposed to be a one-shot and now it's almost 17K! I don't know what happened! This is a retelling of TFATWS in a world where everyone has an animal shift. Bucky's shift is a wolf, a white wolf even! You'll have to wait and find out about the other three but please guess away in the meantime. Hope you enjoyed and feel free to drop a comment if you feel so inclined!