Hi everyone! This is my third fanfiction in English (I'm French), so I'm sorry if some phrases seem awkward or grammar mistakes. I've read the text several times to make sure it is easy to read, but please tell me if you notice any mistakes.

About the story: it takes place after "Captain America : Civil War" SPOILER WARNING!

It doesn't follow the original ending and instead of going to cryo, Bucky choose to go back living to Romania. In this version, he doesn't remember exactly everything about his old life, but he does remember Steve.

Disclaimer : Captain America doesn't belong to me.

Pourparlers

Romania – October 26th 2016

Morning air was crisp and still fresh from last night. The mellow sun was slowly creeping up in the sky, warming frozen earth with honey-like rays streaming down from between the trees. It smelled like moist earth and trunks. Yellow leaves spread on the canopy and bunches of mushrooms sprout out from the ground and nestled near moss-covered stumps. Dried leaves covered the earth like a patchwork of red and yellow and brown.

Well, this was definitely a charming picture and Tony Stark was walking right into it. It looked like a grand opening from a Hollywood blockbuster movie. But Tony was no hero, and this was no movie. A branch snapped in two as he stepped on it. "Shit!" Tony grumbled under his breath as he glanced furiously at his brand-new but now muddy sneakers.

If someone said to Anthony Stark last year that he would be walking all alone in some forest in Romania next fall, Tony wouldn't have believe it. Tony-From-Last-Year would have most probably laughed, drinking from his glass with one hand and the other tucked around Pepper's waist. Pepper was his girlfriend last year. Tony-From-Last-Year would have most probably had some kind of stroke if he had known Pepper would break with him within few months, leaving him to spend Christmas on his own. The last few weeks, he had busied himself by going to boring receptions just to try drink himself into a stupor with champagne flutes.

Thinking about it, it may be better for Tony to be here, in the middle of some forest in Romania. He couldn't bear his vacant tower with its empty flats anymore. He couldn't bear with Vision anxiously hovering him. Rhodey was the only one to bring him some comfort these days, but he left to stay with his family for a few weeks. Tony reached the bottom of misery. He couldn't deal with New York, with charity meetings, with his guilt. He wanted to busy himself, to have a change of air.

He stepped once again onto some dead branch and it broke loudly from beneath his sneaker. Tony swallowed back another curse and hoped the loud caws from ravens perched somewhere in the ash trees – or were they oaks? Charms? – were enough to drown out his deafening stomping. He felt like a hunter — a lousy one at this point — but a hunter, nevertheless.

His prey? A man crouching by a massive tree, picking mushrooms and storing them into a white plastic bag. Tony took a few seconds to carefully look at his bowed back. The man was wearing a threadbare jacket with a ratty shirt beneath. A battered cap concealed his face but not a bunch of black locks running almost all the way down to his chin. He too looked like a character out of a Hollywood blockbuster, a rather pitiful one.

Tony was carrying his F.R.I.D.A.Y watch. She was his sole teammate these days. She was an IA, but an IA with a personality and that was good enough to keep him company. She was now completely silent, probably feeling how significant this moment was.

Maybe she overestimated how important the moment was, because she deemed unnecessary to inform Tony about the figure appearing right behind him, approaching slowly on silent feet. Tony startled before turning around slightly to keep Barnes in his vision while looking at the intruder. Steve Rogers stood a few steps away. His ridiculous, star-covered outfit was nowhere to be seen. The man was wearing an unsuspicious green parka and frayed jeans. His famous shield was obviously absent from his arm.

The man did not smile. "Hello, Tony," he said without fanfare.

The millionaire looked back toward Barnes. He was still absorbed by his mushrooms, blissfully ignorant about how the man who had tried to kill him stood a few steps away from him with the man who tried to defend him. It looked a little too perfect, a little too good to be true. Barnes had the serum. His senses were enhanced and that included his hearing. Yet he remained blissfully unaware about the danger and Tony decided to play along.

"Capsicle," he answered. The old nickname had lost all playfulness. Rogers didn't blink. His face remained relaxed despite a slight frown, but his muscles tensed beneath his ugly parka. His eyes didn't waver once from Tony's, not even to glance to Barnes. He was resolute not to allow Tony the slightest chance to attack.

"I'm not going to pretend and ask you what you're doing here –"

"Good, neither do I."

" – So I'm going to ask you to leave. Right now. You have no business here."

Tony-From-Last-Year would have scoffed. Tony-From-Last-Year would have had a sharp retort to shoot back at Rogers's face. Tony-From-Today had nothing but a blank mind and a cold, ugly anger lurking just beneath the surface.

"Neither have you, Captain." He said, tone icy and sharp.

Rogers shrugged and frowned and clenched his fists. In that order. Already Tony's huge brain was filling with probabilities and tactics. With F.R.I.D.A.Y's assistance and counting on fact Rogers had came unarmed, Tony had reasonable chances to succeed in a fair fight. He was mentally preparing himself to another apocalyptic battle, but Rogers shook his head.

"I'm not Captain. I gave up that title along with my shield."

"I could give it back," Tony replied dryly."The shield, I mean."

"You could give up hunting down my friend," Rogers shot back.

Silence. They were having the exact same conversation for months, play and rewind, again and again. Tony looked at Rogers and Rogers looked at him while the local wildlife was slowly waking up all around them up the trees and down in the bushes. Tony was the first to look away from their silent staring contest to check that Barnes was still there, collecting muddy mushrooms in his white plastic bag. He paused to peep inside. Was he actually counting them? Tony stared at the empty sleeve where the left arm would have been. It filled with air and swung lifelessly at Barnes' side. He was a vulnerable target. Tony wouldn't even need Iron-Man's suit.

"If you attack him, I will stop you," Rogers immediately said, as if he was reading his thoughts.

He looked sick at the prospect though, but was too stubborn to back off.

"You don't have the jurisdiction to conduct an arrest, not in U.S. and even less here." Tony said.

"You don't have any right to be here," Rogers retorted hotly, eyes blazing fiercely.

"I've got every damn – " Tony cut himself up, clenching his jaws shut tightly. Tears burned just beneath his eyelids while his heart stomped furiously in his aching chest. He blinked back tears, bones feeling icy cold and a lump in his throat. He felt lonely and powerless and utterly lost. What was he doing here? What the hell was he doing here?!

Rogers' stern face softened slightly. Genuine sorrow pooled in his eyes as he looked at Tony in damned pity. It wounded him like a cutting blade. Rogers had no right to bear grief, had no right while Tony was – while Tony's parents were –

"I'm sorry about Siberia," Rogers said. Tony barely heard his voice among the racket inside his own mind. His hatred was eating him alive and he was literally drowning in grief.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Rogers continued stubbornly. "I shouldn't have kept it from you. But Buck –"

He interrupted himself, opening and closing his mouth mutely several times. He was looking for the right words and didn't find any. Tony wasn't only Tony anymore. He was the grieving son who discovered how his parents had been killed. He was the man who could kill Barnes. Bitterness spread in his body like ink spread onto a piece of paper. He could feel it coating his tongue. He pursed his lips.

"Killing Buck won't bring them back," Rogers said with a deep frown.

"I don't expect them to," came the dry retort.

"Revenge isn't a solution."

"He killed my mom."

"He wasn't in controls. Tony, you know that. You know that wasn't him."

Oh, Tony knew. Tony knew everything about the Winter Soldier project, from the first rapport typewritten in 1944 to the last published in 2013. He had gingerly read everything Natasha had dropped on the Web, all confidential information detained by S.H.I.E.L.D – by H.Y.D.R.A. He had read about Barnes' capture, his captivity, how he lost his arm and gained his metal prosthesis. He knew about the electric shock treatment and the brainwashing and – He knew.

So why couldn't he just forgive Barnes?

Tony pointed at man's back."I saw him kill my parents," he seethed."My dad recognized him and got his head smashed anyways. My mom had nothing to do with any of this, but your dear buddy killed her just because she was there!"

Because she saw everything. An unwanted witness. Just collateral damage.

"Break as many eggs as you like. My son was one of them. He was working with a humanitarian organization in Sokovia, in the town you decided to destroy. You think you're fighting for us. But truth is, you only fight for yourself, without any care for consequences. My son was a consequence. He was my sole child, Stark. To you, he's probably collateral damage, isn't he? But he had a family and a whole future ahead of him. His name was Charlie Spencer. He's dead, and I blame you."

Different words from a different conversation rung in Tony's mind, blinded by rage. His blood was lava, burning hot in his veins coming up all the way to his head, and he felt like it was going to burst from the pressure. Tears leaked from his eyes and his nose run, like he was just a damned kid.

A sob was climbing inside his throat. He quickly swallowed it back, not wanting to attract Barnes' attention. Barnes had gotten back to his feet and was walking away slowly. Tony promptly followed him, keeping safe distance between them. He heard Rogers stepping up behind him.

They walked among trees for long minutes, following a crooked, un-marked path. Barnes was moving forward with long, sure strides, while Tony slid several times on the leaves. He bit back a curse each time, eyeing angrily his sneakers. Rogers trailed behind, a quiet and impassive shadow. It was impossible for Barnes to not have noticed them already. But the super-soldier didn't look back once to glance at his two chaperones. He stopped in front a greenish stump and crouched over it, lowering his bag to the ground.

He went back to picking mushrooms under Tony watchful eye. The millionaire could feel raw emotions raging inside his head, but the few minutes of silent walking with cold, fresh air in his face had helped him to quiet his mind.

Rogers stopped next to him. "Why is he here? Why leaving Wakanda?"Tony asked, rolling his eyes when Rogers clenched his jaw and stayed silent."Oh come on, don't pretend. I know the Cat-King had brought the two of you back to his country."

Rogers looked like he'd ingested a lemon. Tony snorted. This wasn't a secret. He had always known T'challa had offered them his protection when Tony came back home – alone and his heart utterly destroyed in thousands of cutting pieces – from Siberia. The two super-soldiers had disappeared from the face of Earth. Wakanda was among the smallest countries in the world, but it fulfilled a significant role in international trading, thanks to its vibranium ores. Wakanda was pretty much the only vibranium producer active on the international market. That gave to the otherwise tiny state an important weight to its diplomatic opinions and decisions. If the young king decided to defend an international criminal, no country would dare to question his decision in fear to see its vibranium imports stopped.

Wakanda was most likely the only country where Barnes could hope to lead a peaceful life. So what was he doing here? The guy was gathering mushrooms in some Romanian forest instead of living safe and cozy behind Wakanda's borders.

"T'challa did grant Bucky his protection," Rogers confessed, nodding slightly. "He's even been offered the Wakandian citizenship. But he wanted to leave. He's afraid to drag T'challa and Wakanda in this - this whole mess. And he wanted to come back." He pratically spited out the last words. Tony's eyebrows shot up.

"To come back where?"

Rogers sighed deeply, but gestured vaguely all around them. "Here, in Romania. He was trying building back his life in Bucharest before the Vienna's attack. He had started gaining memories of his old life and was building new ones by living here. He wasn't doing a really good job at it, but he was trying."

'Before T'challa and Rhodey and a bunch of Romanian policemen came barging into his sad, shabby flat,' was what Rogers did not say but what Tony heard anyways. He couldn't lie to himself and pretend their intervention did not help Zemo to get his hand onto the Winter Soldier, finally achieving revenge. Tony scrubbed his weary face with his hand in deep frustration.

"You know, he genuinely likes this country," Rogers said with a fray smile."I don't know why."

Tony nibbled his dry lips. "Mushrooms, maybe?" he supplied tonelessly.

Barnes's plastic bag was getting quite full now, but the super-soldier kept stuffing it with muddy mushrooms. It was an awfully domestic picture. Tony frowned. Did he actually come all the way here to actually look at Barnes and picking up mushrooms? What was he looking for? Answers? Peace of mind? Or just plain, boring revenge?

A bird started chirping somewhere high up the trees. Barnes looked up, trying to locate it. Some acorns dropped on the moist ground carpeted with dried leaves. The sun poured warm rays over red and yellow trees. Patches of golden light spread on the ground, falling on Tony and Rogers like some damn projector. Tony observed his shadow stretching in front of him, from his feet all the way to gnarled roots coming out from damp, muddy forest earth.

Rogers started talking again. "He has changed. Bucky I mean. He's not the same man from 1944. He does remember some of our time before the war, he remembers people and faces and names. But he doesn't recall which face comes with which name. Sometimes, he speaks several languages before realizing none of them are English. He behaves differently. He's got different opinions about many things, well, practically everything to be honest. Did you know he used to hate mushrooms before?"

Tony snorted disdainfully. "Is this supposed to get me all emotional and in a forgiving mood? Should I shed a tear?" His mouth was parched. He nervously fingered his watch. F.R.I.D.A.Y was keeping it warm and comforting against his skin. If things turned sour, from one side or the other, F.R.I.D.A.Y would protect him.

Rogers sighed loudly. "No. Yes. I don't know. I'm just telling you how I feel. I'm – I'm happy to have him back."

"Even how he is now? You just said he was not your old buddy from the war," Tony replied.

Good, old, loyal Sergeant Barnes was no more. Rogers and the rest of the world were stuck with the new – and not the best – version of James Buchanan Barnes. Rogers blinked slowly as he considered his answer. He watched as Barnes slowly stood again, clutching his plastic bag over-stuffed with mushrooms in his only remaining fist. Tony caught himself staring at the empty sleeve, waving gently with the wind. The Winter Soldier's metal arm had been one unique piece of sophisticated technology, both from an engineering and biomechanics point of view. Tony couldn't regret wrecking it. Now, Barnes was only a man missing his left arm. Harmless and weak.

"Even as he is," Rogers answered finally. "He's not the same. He remembers more of his life being the Winter Soldier that he remembers his life being my friend in the 30's."

"And you're sure he does remember you?" Tony couldn't help but remain skeptical. Hearing Rogers, it seemed more and more obvious that Barnes retained more memories from his time as HYDRA's attack dog that as Captain's BFF. But a somewhat warm, yet still sad smile stretched over Rogers's face. He was looking at Barnes with shining eyes like the big, emotional dork he was. Intently focused onto the Captain – a man who had been his friend and still refused to be his enemy – Tony wasn't even staring anymore at the (ex) assassin just a few feet away from him.

"He does," Rogers said firmly. "Though he remembers less that he wants me to believe. But that's alright. He remembers what's important."

Somehow, Tony already knew the Captain's answer would be something incredibly cheesy and predictable. Rogers didn't disappoint. "He remembered me because I recognized him. I knew him, and he couldn't let that go. He remembers we've been friends since school."

Damn. Was that an actual sob Tony heard in Rogers' voice? Steve eyes remained dry but they were shining the exact same way they did when Steve remembered his old life before his sleep in the years gone in a blink of an eye. To him, the thirties seemed just a few years back instead of decades away. Now, Tony was scientist. Chances for two buddies born during the First World War and who had grew up together in the middle of the Great Depression era to meet again a whole century later after both of them had been frozen like two slabs of bacon were approximately zero. And yet, here they were. Barnes and Steve were contradicting the most basic mathematical rules of their universe by simply being here.

Barnes and Steve. Tony looked at Cap and thought that, maybe, Barnes was the only anchor linking Steve to his past where he could never return. Barnes was the only link between his old life and this new century the Cap definitely never thought he could reach even as an old man. Steve Rogers was a fossil, lost in an unknown era. He was a living piece of history, torn from his time and dropped here, in what he still thought as the future instead of the present. But Barnes... He was from both timelines: he was still old Sergeant Barnes — even when barely able to gather some memories from his life before the war — and he was also the terrifying, cold-blooded, brainwashed killer who literally helped to shape this new century. Barnes was the sole link for Steve to reconcile his past to this harsh reality where everyone he knew was either dead or old enough to be his great-grandparent.

Steve straightened up sharply. Tony flinched slightly and instinctively followed Cap's line of sight. Barnes was facing them. Tony froze. Blue eyes lined up with his, unflinching yet filled with fright. Tony stared at Barnes – his prey – who clutched his stupid, mushrooms-filled bag in his right hand, stupid cap covering his stupidly long hair. Did Barnes really believe the outfit would conceal his identity? Tony saw Barnes' muscles tensing beneath his coat. He was ready to fly, ready to run away. Yet he stayed standing there, staring at Tony like he couldn't move.

Burning, familiar fury took over surprise. Tony felt it swarm him up like a wave, setting his blood on fire. Blurry, black-and-white images from the surveillance camera – December 16th, 1991, 1:11 am – played in his head, again and again. F.R.I.D.A.Y was with him. He could fight. He could do something. Uncontrollable rage was fueling him up, screaming inside him and making his heart beating faster and faster against his ribcage. Yet his muscles remained frozen. His body was a statue, refusing to cooperate. Just like Barnes, he couldn't move.

There was no more Steve. There were only the trees and Tony facing Barnes. Barnes was glaring at him almost defiantly, like he was refusing to flee away from his impending death, blatantly ignoring all his instincts screaming at him to run. And just like that, Tony was a hunter again. He was a hunter, his rifle pointing at his prey and his finger ready to press the trigger. And yet he couldn't do it. He was watching his only opportunity to get revenge grew smaller and couldn't understand why his finger wasn't pulling this fucking trigger. Why, why, why?

Tony couldn't say if it had been seconds or minutes before whatever charm Barnes and him were under broke. Barnes blinked, as if coming up from a dream, and was quick to regain his senses. He stepped back, lowering his head so his cap was hiding the top of his face. Tony's eyes were glued to him as Barnes looked over Steve to exchange a quick glance and some unspoken words, and then walked away. He kept his gait slow, as if he wanted to provide Tony a chance to change his mind and finally take his one and only opportunity. Or maybe he walked slowly because he knew Tony wasn't going to do anything. He was a prey aware that the hunter would never fire at it.

He eventually disappeared from sight, lost somewhere between massive tree trunks. Tony was alone in the woods along with Steve who sighed in profound sun was shining like it was summer instead of fall, warming up damp air. Golden light struck down upon red and green and yellow leaves, lightening them up in brighter colors. Cramped muscles came loose ever so slowly, as tension poured out of Tony like water pouring from a dam. He lowered his shoulders and felt utterly exhausted.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

His skin felt tight and uncomfortable, irritation bubbling up in his belly. "I don't know," he snarled between clenched teeth. "What do you suggest? A picnic? A cruise on the Danube? I should maybe begin writing my damned memoirs, and I'll title them 'How I let my parents' murderer go'!"

He shouted the last three words. They reverberated beneath the trees, slicing through the peaceful silence like a gunshot. Steve was looking at him with his huge, sad Labrador eyes. Tony sighed wearily. "Christ, I don't know. I'll go back home. It's useless to stay here any longer."

What a pitiful, useless trip it had been. Tony wasted both his money and his time you to watch James Fucking Barnes picking up mushrooms in a Romanian forest. Well, he could afford it. He was a millionaire.

"Are you planning to stay here with him for long?" he asked, his eyes glued to the vacant spot where Barnes had disappeared.

Steve shrugged. "For as long as he would allow me, I guess. We have a lot to catch up."

That was an understatement. Tony tried and failed to feel anything but disdain and bitterness.

"Do you think we could call it a truce?" Steve asked then out of the blue while Tony was busy feeling sorry for himself.

Anger, disgust and grief twisted together in his stomach. "Don't you think that it is a little bit early for that?" he retorted, more sharply that he intended.

Steve looked crushed, but he nodded his head solemnly. "Even if we do not agree," he said, "I don't want us to be enemies. You're a good man, Tony."

Tony thought about Pepper who left him, bitterly cursing at him before slamming the door behind her. About the resentful mother whose kid Tony had unintentionally, unknowingly killed. And about Rhodey who may never walk again. He thought about Barnes falsely accused of the Vienna's attack.

Tony didn't feel like a good man. He felt like a human disaster that couldn't do a single thing right. What his big, genius brain and his damn fortune were good for if he couldn't do anything right?

He knew Steve was waiting for an answer – he could practically smell it in the air, the waiting, the hope – but when he opened his mouth, his mind came up utterly blank. This conversation was over. So he just said: "Goodbye, Captain."

This time, Steve ignored the title. "Goodbye, Tony. And please, take care of yourself."

Leaves creaked softly as Steve walked away, following Barnes' path and disappeared behind a trunk. Alone and trying very hard not to feel dejected, Tony turned away and made the long, slow way back. His jet operated by F.R.I.D.A.Y was waiting for him at the edge of the woods. His head was empty, and his eyes felt dull and glassy. Memories of his parents haunted him. He could still smell his mother's perfume, her gentle hands softly petting his cheeks as she did when she kissed him on the forehead. "Oh, Tony …" she would say when her teenage son had a temper tantrum or an existential crisis. "Your father loves you, honey. He just doesn't know how to say it."His breath hitched. He lifted up a hand and palmed his cheek, as if expecting to feel Maria's hand beneath his fingers. But he merely felt his stubble cheek.

Eyes blurred with unshed tears, he stared at the ground where leaves were reduced to colorful patches of brown and gold. He blinked and watched tears fell at his feet. Air was balmy against his skin, heavy with smell of fresh bark and damp earth. A gentle breeze rustled leaves still on the trees. Atmosphere was quiet and peaceful while Tony felt his heart shattered in thousands of pieces that were ruthlessly tearing him up from the inside. He sniffled loudly and stopped to rub angrily at his reddened eyes. In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

One unread message from Pepper.

'Can we talk? Btw, I love you, idiot."

The end

I hope you've liked it. Please feel free to let me know what you think!