Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!

Recommended Listening: Everybody Hurts by REM, Let It Be the Beatles, and The Way you look Tonight by Bing Crosby, Riverside by Agnes Obel


Ch 27: Brave Face Little Soldier

He stood beside the Vistula River, feeling foolish. Yet, somehow, this felt right. He glanced down at the small flat stone, turning it over and over in his hand, the left hand shoved in his pocket.

It was Rosh Hashanah, which is why he was here at the river, reciting the Tashlikh service, hoping against all hope that he might cast away his sins. It was a time of repentance, of atonement, of making right the wrongs of the year previous, to be sealed in the book of life, rather than blotted from it permanently.

How could he right the wrongs that he'd committed? Was there any possible way to atone, to seek out forgives for the horrors and atrocities committed by his hand?

If he was honest with himself, he didn't deserve forgiveness, not when rivers of blood ran at his feet, and the weight of his actions was stacked against him. Coerced or not, he was still responsible, these deaths, these killings, these actions, even if he'd been Hydra's puppet, he'd still had a choice, and the Soldier had chosen over and over to kill and maim and destroy for Hydra.

Would casting this stone into the river do anything? He didn't know. He didn't know if he was religious anymore. If he even could be religious anymore. Yet there was something comforting about reciting the old prayers that he had learned as a boy and still knew by heart.

He remembered how he and Steve and their families would go cast stones or bread crumbs off the Brooklyn bridge every year during Rosh Hashanah in preparation for Yom Kippur.

"...He will take us back in love. He will cover up our iniquities. You will cast all their sins into the depths of the sea."

The words in Hebrew were slow and award on his tongue. It had been a long time since they'd been spoken by him. The language held a memory deep and rich unto itself. It reminded him of time spent around the family dinner table for Passover, Hanukkah, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and every Shabbat in between. He remembered the prayers spoken by other Jewish soldiers in the trenches. By Steve in the long nights during watch with the Commandos after his rescue. The hope and comfort that it had given them that it had given him. He found it did nothing for him now, not like it had, not like it used to, but then again, it had been a long time since then.

Had he prayed when he was the Soldier? Did the Soldier pray? No. Of course, he hadn't, Hydra hadn't built him for that, there was no room for prayer or religion in the world of the Winter Soldier.

Was that why the words felt hollow now? He didn't know.

Concluding, he glanced down at the stone in his hand and then looked back up to the river and offered up a silent prayer. For all that I am, for all that I've done, may I find redemption and forgives. For all those that have been wronged by me, may they find justice and peace.

Becca, Steve, Natalia, Magdalene, his sister's family, his family, there were hundreds more he could name, thousands perhaps whose lives had been ruined by him, by the Winter Soldier. Sins and transgressions that he could never wash from his skin, black marks against him that could never be erased.

He cast the stone into the water, watching as it sank into the murky depths and then disappeared entirely.

He exhaled slowly, squeezing his eyes shut, tried to focus on the moment, and perhaps find some semblance, some measure, some iota of inner peace.

Forgiveness. Was that even possible? Could he forgive himself for all that he'd done? Would Steve? Would the world?

Furthermore, did he deserve their forgiveness? Could he earn it? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answer, though he was confident of what it would be.

Whatever the case may be, casting a stone into the river wasn't going to change what had happened. It might carry away his sins, but he could still feel them in his mind, in his body, in his very soul. So what could he do? What could make right these wrongs? He didn't know, but perhaps this was a start.


The summer had melted away into autumn, and as the leaves changed around her, and the weather grew colder, Maggie found that her mood likewise shifted. She was irritable, cranky, and frustrated. The search for Barnes had all but ground to a stop, since Sam, Steve, and Nat were focused on training up new Avengers, and the fact that they hadn't found any new leads meant that Maggie had a lot of spare time and energy. It allowed her the opportunity to focus on her survival lessons from Natasha when she had the time away from the Avengers. The lull in activity also gave Maggie a lot of time to sit and obsess over what little information she was finding out about Barnes. Mostly she just wanted to punch things, and so she trained so that she could eventually, effectively, achieve that goal.

"You looking for a sparring partner?"

Maggie turned her head to find Nat approaching the punching bags where Maggie had set up with her jump rope and work out gear. Stopping mid-jump, she winced as the rope hit the back of her legs with a sting. She looked Nat up and down, she was wearing leggings and a white tank-top, looking at ease, yet sharper than any knife Maggie dared handle. "Wouldn't mind the practice. If you're up for it after Avengers Day Camp."

"Someone's salty."

Maggie smirked, "I feel like I'm allowed on occasion."

"You seem to be milking that one for all it's worth," Nat commented. "Finish up your rep while I warm up."

"Milking it?" Maggie echoed with a light laugh, but Natasha didn't respond. They both fell into their familiar rhythm and completed their warm-ups in silence before climbing into the sparring rink

For her part, Maggie had been getting better, at least she felt like she was getting better, but was 1000% certain that Natasha would always be holding back on her, which in some small part Maggie appreciated. While being broken in half by a femme fatal may or may not be on her list of preferable ways to die, she wasn't quite ready to buy the farm, as it would happen. Yet, Maggie was curious. Could she hack it out in the real world? The 'real world' being someplace where she would need to fight to survive, and not the 'real world' as she'd known it back in the spring of 2014.

It all seemed so pointless. They weren't getting anywhere. It was like Barnes had disappeared off the face of the earth, and they were reduced to sifting through every grain of sand for even the tiniest clue of his location. And for what? To find a man who might not even remember who he was, or worse, might be beyond the hope of rescue and who would have to be captured and put down like a wild animal.

It might be better if we just stopped looking if we didn't find Barnes at all.

"Oomph," Maggie grunted as Natasha threw her down onto the mat.

"You're distracted."

"Yeah. You got me." She moaned, sitting up and shaking off the boxing gloves.

"You wanna talk about it?" Nat asked, tossing Maggie a towel and her water bottle before sinking beside her on the floor.

"I just feel that I need to say this because we're probably all thinking it at this point."

"Okay, I'm all ears."

"Have we considered the real possibility that there might be a reason Barnes doesn't want to be found? What if he's still working as the Winter Soldier? What if he doesn't remember being Bucky Barnes at all?" Maggie reasoned before taking a long pull from her water bottle.

Natasha said nothing, but something passed over her face. Was it pain? Was it sadness? Was it regret? Maggie couldn't be sure, but something else pinged in the back of her mind as disparate pieces of files and intel and just downright intuition started to knit themselves into something very nearly intelligible.

"Do you plan on telling Steve that?"

Maggie choked on her water, coughing as it went down the wrong tube, she looked over at Natasha who was watching her with interest. "Are you fucking crazy?" She managed to wheeze after a moment.

"I think it's a valid point. If you want out, you have to tell Steve."

"That's not fair."

"Never said it was fair. But he does deserve to know."

Maggie sighed, nodding, "I know, you're right, per usual." She paused. It was a long shot. It probably wasn't even right, but she had to know, her curiosity was getting the better of her, and if she didn't ask now, she might not get the chance again. "Is he worth saving? Is there a man worth saving, even in the Winter Soldier?" Maggie couldn't look at Natasha as she asked, but she could feel the other woman's eyes upon her, cold and steely but not entirely unkind.

"Why ask me?" Maggie could hear the eyebrow raise in the other woman's question.

"One of 28 young ballerinas with the Bolshoi. One of 28 Black Widow agents with the Red Room." Maggie said slowly, looking over at Natasha, who was still watching her like a cat stalking its prey. If Maggie didn't finish now, she wouldn't get the chance again. "Hydra, The Red Room, The Wolf Spider Program, they're all connected. You knew the Winter Soldier, he trained you, it's in the files, but he was something else, something more..." Maggie faded off, unwilling to insinuate more, not with Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow and Avenger starring her down. Maggie blinked, looking away.

This is it. This is how I die.

"You know, you would make a great spy if ever learned to keep your mouth shut, Ramirez," Natasha said cooly after a long pause.

It was a confirmation or the only confirmation that Maggie was going to get from Natasha. But it only made sense. The woman knew how Barnes moved. She knew where to find information. She knew all the keywords to look for, all of the different ways and different methods that the Winter Soldier and Hydra would use to avoid detection. The next logical step was that they had known each other. Yet, there had been other clues other hints that Maggie had seen both in Natasha's expressions and in the documents she'd read to indicate that The Black Widow Natalia Romanov and The Winter Soldier had been more, much more than just operatives in the field together.

"You've gone after the Winter Soldier before."

"Yes."

"So you'd know if he was leaving bread crumbs for us to find him."

"He isn't."

"So he really doesn't want to be found."

"I'd imagine so."

"Any idea why Natasha?"

There was a pause, long enough that Maggie dared to sneak a glance at the woman beside her. "The only one who would be able to answer that for sure would be James."

James. She'd used his first name. She'd never heard him use his first name. It was jarring, and it felt so vulnerable coming from Natasha. Maggie had so many questions. Why hadn't she told Steve? Did Steve know? Why not say something before now? But Maggie didn't ask, she knew better than to ask that. Frankly, it wasn't any of her business, nor was it Steve's for that matter. But Maggie did know that it would be yet another thing that James Barnes would have to sort out when and if they ever found him.

"I haven't told anyone. It isn't even in my journal." Maggie said slowly.

Natasha nodded, looking up at her, "It's not so black and white, is it anymore?" Her voice and her expression were soft, but Maggie could hear the note of appreciation in her tone.

"No." Maggie shook her head. It wasn't black and white, it hadn't been for a while, but now everything seemed to be in increasingly jarring shades of grey.

Natasha sighed. "He's a murder and a killer, but for that matter, so am I." Natasha paused, taking in a long and steady breath, nothing in her tone and posture, indicating anything about what their conversation might be doing to her. "Even as the Winter Soldier, he was a good man."

The was a long silence as Maggie tried to figure out what to say next. "So what should I do, Nat?" Maggie asked. She'd come to Natasha for guidance, she needed someone to tell her what she should do, but it was quickly becoming apparent that she wasn't going to get a clear cut answer.

"Most don't choose this life, Ramirez, and often the only way out is death. For most of us, it's death. If you see a chance to walk away, a chance for a clean break, take it. Without hesitation. But until then, play things close to your chest, prepare your strategy, and know when it's time to get out."

"And Barnes and Rogers?"

"You'll know when you're ready."

"Will I?" Maggie asked skeptically.

"As I said before, Ramirez, you'd make a good spy if you could learn to keep your mouth shut."

Maggie rolled her eyes, "That's why I became a therapist instead."

Natasha shook her head, rising to her feet, "Come on." She said, extending her hand to Maggie. "We have time to go at least two more rounds before I have to go back to 'Avengers Day Camp,' as you so charitably called it." Natasha grinned, pulling Maggie to her feet.

"How's the gang getting along?"

"They're shaping up."

"Glad to hear it."

"Come on, Ramirez. Less talk, more focus."

Maggie snorted but said nothing as they squared up once again to spar.

Natasha laid her out a few more times before it was time for her to return to the Avengers gym. As they parted, Maggie could feel a deep chasm opening up in her stomach. She was keeping secrets from Sam and Steve, and now they weren't just her secrets but Natasha's as well.

She felt oddly honored that Natasha trusted her not to say anything to Sam and Steve. Then again, Natasha knew that she knew about Barnes and Stark's parents, so perhaps it was a mutually assured destruction type solution to the current predicament. Nevertheless, the fact that Natasha hadn't killed her on the spot meant that she'd reached some kind of relationship status with the other woman. Had Natasha been feeding her all of that information to see if she could or would pick up the various clues found within? Natasha hadn't seemed at all surprised or alarmed by either of the revelations, meaning that she had likely known Maggie would find out long before Maggie did. So it was only logical that Natasha was only giving her what she wanted Maggie to see.

This, of course, left the issue of Sam and Steve. It wasn't so much an issue as a matter of morality with those two. They were soldiers, they didn't think the way that Natasha did, and since Maggie was withholding critical pieces of information from the both of them, to avoid an implosion of the Avengers, it meant that they wouldn't be able to help her if and when things went sideways. Maggie had serious doubts that Natasha would even help her when things went sideways. But that was the point of her survival lessons, that was the point of the training, of the preparation, and of Natasha's warning.

Play things close to your chest, prepare your strategy, and know when it's time to get out.

It wasn't the best advice she'd received, but it also wasn't the worst. The critical thing was is that it would keep her alive. So the question was to know when she should get out. When was the breaking point? When did she decide that this was it? How would she know? Would she know? Or was it something that she'd have to train her gut to and hope that her instincts served her well?

Maggie was tired. She was ready to walk away. They weren't getting anywhere, the world wasn't as friendly to the avengers anymore, things were looking grim, and she found that she was afraid. She'd seen too much, she knew too much, there were some things now that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life. The images from the bunker in Argentina were enough to scar anyone for life, but she had that and then some.

But I made Becca a promise to bring her brother home.

She had made a promise to Becca, and for that matter, a promise in some small part to herself and to Steve. Only now the stakes had changed. This wasn't so she could get her life back, this was so she could walk away alive at all.

Not so black and white now anymore, is it?

That was for damn sure.

Maggie wanted to sink to the bottom of the sea and leave all of this behind. Where was that fortress of solitude again? That seemed like a good option right about now. However, since no icy fortress in the arctic nor a jungle getaway in the tropics seemed particularly forthcoming, Maggie decided to return to her apartment and get back to work.

Maggie spent much of the afternoon engrossed in satellite scans over the old soviet block, circling or X-ing out Hydra bases and hot spots of activity. It wasn't anything new, she and Sam had poured over this set of scans a thousand times, but for the sake of double and triple checking, she was going through them again.

She was so focused on her work that she almost didn't hear Steve come into the apartment, and hover in the doorway to her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, his voice low and small.

"Steve?!" Maggie did a double-take as he appeared in the doorway to her office. He looked like absolute hell. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans, but his hair was mussed, and his eyes look puffy and swollen. She surveyed him, bracing for the bad news, for the calamity, for the tragedy that had somehow befallen the avengers without Maggie noticing. But that wasn't it, wasn't he supposed to be in New York with Becca's kids for the holiday? "Steve, what's going on? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be with the Proctors for Rosh Hashanah?"

"Wanted to let them celebrate without me since this is the first year without—" He stopped himself. "And anyway, I just got in from D.C."

Maggie nodded, watching as he walked from the door to the couch, sinking down onto it like he or it might break without special care. "I'm afraid I don't have anything new for you." She paused, taking a deep breath, her conversation with Natasha from earlier in the afternoon still weighing heavy on her mind. If you want out, you're going to have to tell Steve. She did want out, the only problem was that Sam was wading even further into this, and like it or not she still felt a deep and unyielding loyalty to Sam, and in some small part to Steve. Could she do it? Could she really tell Steve that she was done? Could she tell Steve that his best friend didn't want to be found and that it was just better to give up? Maggie wasn't sure she could, not now and perhaps not ever.

Before she could speak, Steve started again, "Part of Rosh Hashanah is self-reflection and repentance. I wanted to ask your forgiveness and ask for your help."

Maggie felt a lump form in her throat. He wanted to apologize to her? Her? After all that she'd done? With all that, she was hiding from him? It felt wrong. She rose unsteadily to her feet, "Sure Steve, I'm just going to close and lock the door if that's okay, so we're not disturbed." Her voice sounded shrill, almost edging on manic, but if Steve noticed he didn't say anything.

Steve nodded, watching quietly as she moved around the office.

"May I sit next to you?"

Again he nodded, moving over to allow her to sit down beside him. Maggie didn't say anything, watching as Steve turned a compass over and over in his hands.

"I want to apologize for what happened with Becca, it was wrong of me to keep that from you and even worse that I expected you to understand my reasoning." Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Steve continued. "And I want to apologize for everything that has happened to you because of me and because of Bucky." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "You've done far more than I've had any right to ask of you, and I've not been very vocal about how appreciative I am or very good at acknowledging your sacrifices. I should never have gotten you involved, and I'm sorry."

Maggie said nothing. Did he know? Did he know that she wanted to walk away? Was he giving her permission? She didn't know, but right now that didn't seem to be the appropriate thing to bring up. Instead, she focused on the first part of the apology, the part about Becca. She'd mellowed considerably since March, but she appreciated his apology all the same because it recognized that he'd hurt her, and he was trying to set it right. It was all that she could ask of him, all that she could ask of anyone. "I accept your apology," She paused, "and I would like to offer one of my own. I haven't been a very good or very understanding friend recently, and I am sorry, my behavior toward you was unacceptable, you were hurting and grieving. You had every reason to want to keep sensitive information in as tight a circle as possible. I'm sorry."

He nodded, his head and eyes down, focused on the compass he was turning over and over in his hands.

"You said you needed my help?" Maggie asked as gently as she could. Steve looked so fragile as if the slightest sound might break him.

Steve said nothing. This was familiar, the silence, the long deep silence like he was drawing in a breath and finding the strength to say what He needed to say. "Sam told me your granddad had the same thing Peg..." He paused, took a deep breath to control the tremor in his voice before he charged on. "The same thing Carter has. How'd-how'd you deal with that?"

Oh Shit. 'I Just got back from D.C.' He'd been flying back and forth between N.Y. and D.C. since May after the whole Sokovia incident, trying to put out fires. He must've stopped by to see Margaret Carter, and judging by his emotional state, it had not gone well.

"Well." She began slowly, uncertain of how to begin. She clasped both hands in her lap between her knees. "It was hard. I was in college and far away and I couldn't visit him as often as I wanted. When I could—well-he had his good days and his bad days. By the end, he had more bad days than not. That was when it was the most difficult. It was painful. He wouldn't remember me. He normally told me I looked like his granddaughter, sometimes thought I was his daughter, my mother, who had been dead for almost six years at that point." She explained slowly.

"What would you do?" He asked with a sniffle.

"When I was there? Play along. Play the part he needed me to play. It was the only thing I could do for him. Then I would go home and cry. He'd raised me, and near the end, he didn't even know who I was, didn't even know who he was, and what he meant to me." She said. "It was hard to see him like that, and it was hard to make myself go see him, but I did because it's what needed to happen."

Steve nodded. "I'm losing her. She's slipping away. Sometimes she remembers I'm alive. Other times..." He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't think I can keep putting her through that. I can't make her live through the realization that I'm alive. That after all that time I'm back. Every time I go, it's harder to justify when she remembers less and less. It was 70 years for her...but for me...and now that Bucky is...back...and with SHIELD. There's so much I want to tell her...so much that I want to ask her and talk about it's just..." He paused, exhaling a shaking breath. It was taking everything he had to hold back tears. "It's just not fair to do that to her."

Shit.

This situation was nothing like hers. Steve had been gone for seventy years, and for him to show up in the last few years of Carter's life...there was no way for this to resolve itself. "Nothing about that disease is easy or fair or rational, Steve." She paused, chewing her lip. "At some point, you have to ask, how much of this is for your comfort and how much of it is for hers? Learning to let go, before they're actually gone. Grieving for them before they pass away. Playing whatever role they need you to play. That's all you can do for them and for yourself."

"Thanks for that." He said shortly, his head still down. She couldn't see his expression to read it.

"I'm sorry that's not the answer you want to hear." She explained, reaching out hesitantly she put her hand on his shoulder.

"But it's an honest one." He sniffled, stowing the compass in his pocket. "It's the one that I needed to hear from someone I trust."

Trust. Yeah. Maggie nodded, a knot twisting in her stomach. If only you knew Steve. "Whatever you need, Steve."

She couldn't help but think about the conversation she'd had only hours before with Natasha. Barnes didn't want to be found, but she was too much of a damn coward to tell Steve that herself. Wasn't it more of a mercy to just continue looking? Wasn't she doing the right thing by not voicing her suspicions about Barnes and just plugging along trying to find the guy, futile though it may be?

"What if." He began softly, almost so quietly that Maggie didn't hear him. "What if we never find him. Or worse...he...he doesn't know me. With Becca gone and with Peg...I just...I just want someone who knew me as..." He shook his head, turning away from her.

Maggie watched him practically collapse, hunching his shoulders, drawing his legs inward, making himself as small as possible as if he was trying to shed the massive body that made him Captain America and return to being Steve, just Steve.

"We're going to find him, Steve," Maggie said adamantly, drawing her legs up on the couch, she scooted closer to him. "We are going to find him, and he's going to remember you." She put her hands on his shoulders. "You have my word." She might be lying, she might think that they were never going to find him, but that didn't matter. Steve needed hope. Needed a reason to keep going, and if it meant that she compromised her integrity for a white lie, then she would do it. Don't let him forget who he is, beneath all of the Captain America bullshit. Make sure he remembers that there is life beyond all of that waiting for him. That's what Becca had said. That's what she'd told her the last time they'd spoken.

Maggie put her arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. "I see you. Sam sees you." She murmured practically climbing into his lap. She pulled him into an embrace. "We see you, and so will Bucky. I promise." Steve nodded wordlessly, nearly catatonic, he just fell into her. Maggie stroked his head, running her fingers through his hair as his shoulders shook from the effort of holding back tears.

"It's okay to cry, Steve. It's okay to feel what you're feeling." She whispered as tears started welling in her eyes.

She missed Becca. She missed her grandfather. She missed Riley. She missed Suzanne and Bill and everyone she'd ever loved and lost who'd been a mentor and a friend. They would know what to do. They would know how to make this better, how to heal the hurt that Steve was feeling. She was not enough. Not on her own.

It had been an exhausting year and a half. How much longer would it take for them to find Barnes? How much could they endure? At what point would the costs outweigh any benefit? Maggie didn't know.

Steve's phone beeped, and Maggie clambered off him as he removed it from his pocket and examined the screen. He cleared his throat before answering. "Rogers here."

Maggie moved to the opposite side of the couch to give Steve some space. It was another mission. She could tell as Steve's posture and demeanor changed as he returned to being Captain Rogers, Captain America, the living legend. After a moment, he hung up and looked at her. "I have to go. Sorry." He said, rising to his feet. His face was still blotchy, but that was all that remained of the scene she had just witnessed.

"I'll be here when you get back. Be safe?"

"I'll do my best." He nodded.

There was something unmistakably brave in his expression. Not heroic, not the self-assured image of Captain America with his Howling Commandos that she had seen in the newsreels and the propaganda. That wasn't bravery. It was this hurting man, picking up the shield and charging headfirst into danger, not because he wanted to, but because he knew that it was expected of him. Charging into danger so that others didn't have to.

She nodded and watched as he unlocked the office door and walked out. Maggie exhaled slowly, sinking further into the couch cushions.

Maggie didn't have a choice in this. She knew, Natasha knew, and she was reasonably sure that Steve knew that they weren't going to find Barnes, but Maggie had to try, had to keep fighting and keep going even though it seemed hopeless, it was the only way this could end, it was the only way this was going to end.


So what did you think? No ONE absolutely no one is having a good time in this chapter, I swear. Poor Mags is being torn approximately five directions, and then Bucky, poor Bucky (what else is there to say).

Can't wait to hear what you think! Happy Reading!