Bucky slowly drifted awake. His eyes still closed, the first thing he was aware of was the fact that he was lying in a bed far more comfortable than any he'd been in since…well, probably since he'd gone off to war.

That memory in turn made him realize that for the first time since he'd pulled Steve out of that water, his head didn't feel like an oozing mass of wounds and acid. He opened his eyes.

He was in a bedroom. It was simple, a few pieces of furniture that mostly looked unused. The whole thing screamed safe house to a man who'd been in his fair share of them. He noticed his backpack had been placed carefully on top of one of the chairs. He sat up and swung his legs down to the floor.

Mentally, he took stock. His mind felt…at peace. Memories had been coming back piecemeal, distorted, confused, things still buried under a haze of pain and blackness. But now he could remember. Brooklyn, the war, Hydra. All of it sorted. All of it where it belonged. No more nightmarish aberrations twisting together so that he couldn't sort out what was real and what was fantasy, where Hydra and the war merged while Brooklyn took on grotesque shapes.

There were still memories, more now perhaps, that he wished he could forget. Memories that were nightmare enough in and of themselves. But there was still relief in knowing, knowing it was real. Knowing where it fell. Seeing the context and all the other memories around them. And the good memories, the memories from before all that hell, made the hard ones just a little easier to bear.

And he could sense, in a way that he couldn't quite explain even to himself, that the words were gone.

The relief that flooded him at this thought was immense. They were out of him. He was free. For the first time in….decades. It wasn't just a matter of time anymore before Hydra found him and he was lost again.

And then he frowned. Why? Why had they done it? Who had done it? He played the encounter through in his head. Clint Barton had been in the apartment, and the man on the roof…his face had been scared and burned but he was certain it had to have been Brock Rumlow. Two Hydra agents. And who had the other two been? And why would Hydra agents have freed him?

He became aware of distant voices. He stood, and moved towards the door. Opened it a crack and peered down an empty hallway. The voices were coming from the end of the hall, past a half open door.

Quietly, he moved down the hall and stood in the doorway.

At a kitchen table, the young man and red haired girl from the roof sat at one side. They seemed to be the ones doing the talk. At either end of the table sat Rumlow and Barton. Several takeout boxes were spread across the table.

His eyes flicked to the door, then considered retreating to find a window. He could leave now. It was the safer option. But curiosity, something a week ago he would never had indulged, held him for a moment in uncertainty…perhaps he could afford to indulge it now that the words could no longer threaten him…

Before he had quite decided, the red haired girl glanced up, caught sight of him and smiled.

"You're awake! How are you feeling?" And he knew that voice. It had been the voice inside his head. The presence that ripped out the words and then hadn't left him alone, but stayed and guided him through the jagged mess that had been left behind.

He came into the room. Rumlow had instantly stilled, and Clint turned in his chair to face him.

"You are all right?" asked the girl, her concern so evident and so real that Bucky couldn't resist a small flicker of a smile.

"I think so. Yeah. Thanks to you I think? What exactly did you do?" He glanced at her and then back at the two older men, staying ready, accessing the room for threats then accessing it again. Ready to react should either make a move. The young man too. He'd been the one with the speed after all. He was the one that would be hardest to counter.

"I…went into your mind. I repaired what damage I could…I hope I didn't cause any. My powers are still," she shrugged.,"unknown to some extent."

"Powers?" His gaze flicked back to her. "This world keeps getting stranger. Aliens, superpowers," he glanced back at Barton and Rumlow, "Hydra agents deprogramming the Winter Soldier."

Clint cleared his throat. "Why don't you have a seat?" he gestured to an empty chair. "We can talk."

"We have food," the girl said, gesturing to the takeout. "Pietro ordered far too much of it."

Bucky glanced between her and Clint, but the time it would take him to move from sitting to attack was such a fraction of time that he decided he might as well, so warily, he took the seat but didn't reach for the food, nor did he relax. "What do you want?"

"Like I tried to say at your apartment," said Clint, a little ruefully, "I just want to talk."

Bucky frowned. "I read about you in the papers. I know you're an Avenger. And apparently some kind of double agent working for Shield the past couple of years. I suppose that might be a reason for hearing you out. But why should I trust him?" He jerked a thumb at Brock.

Brock gave a humorless chuckle and, moving for the first time since Bucky had entered the room, leaned back in his chair and crossing his legs. "You probably shouldn't. I voted for using the words."

To perhaps everyone's surprise, including his own, Bucky gave a snort of laughter. "Well I appreciate the honesty."

"And speaking of honesty," said Clint, "that story about me was a lie. I never betrayed Hydra, as much as I wish I had. The Avengers told that story to protect me. I think. I haven't exactly been in contact with them since Project Insight."

"So you're both still Hydra agents, I still don't know why I should trust you, and I certainly don't know why you went and broke my programming."

"I was Hydra. I'm not now. I admit, we want your help. But the choice is going to be yours whether you give it to us. If you want, you can walk right out the front door and we won't bother you again."

"Choice…" Bucky let out a deep breath.

He remembered Clint. One mission seven years ago was the only time they'd encountered each other…there'd been more missions with Rumlow. Rumlow had even served as his handler on a few of them. Both men had, in the grand scheme of Hydra, not been that bad. At least not to him. But that wasn't much of a scale he was measuring them on. And they'd both done plenty on behalf of the mission and Hydra

But when he glanced back at the girl, he remembered her in his head. He remembered how her mind felt, there in the back of his own. That he could trust. That had been safe.

"What exactly do you want help with?" he asked tentatively.

Clint reached back and grabbed a folder off a side table. He flicked it open and took out a picture, pushing it across the table to Bucky who picked it up. "Do you recognize that man?"

Bucky stared at the picture, sorting through his memories. It was an amazing feeling to be able to do that. To be able to slide from one to the next, instead of staring into a vast murky pool where everything was hazy and twisted.

"Baron Strucker. I remember him. One of Hydra's many sadists." He shoved the picture back to Clint.

Clint handed him a second photo.

"What's this?" Bucky asked.

"Have you heard about the alien invasion in New York?"

"I've been on the run. Not living under a rock. Plus, there's something called the internet. It's pretty amazing. You should try it."

"Thanks. Call me a hipster but I've already discovered it."

Bucky chuckled again and relaxed just a fraction.

"That scepter was used by the man who led the invasion: Loki. He was able to use it for mind control." Bucky instantly tensed. Clint added quickly, "When last confirmed, Strucker hadn't figured out how to use it for that."

"But I'm guessing he's trying."

"It wasn't his main point of research." It was the first time the young man, Pietro the girl had called him, spoke.

"Strucker's figured out how to use the scepter to give certain people enhanced abilities."

Bucky frowned for a minute and then glanced towards the two on the other side of the table. "Like them?"

"Yeah."

"So they're Hydra too?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl fold her arms, a little defensively and perhaps just a little hurt. He was surprised though at how firmly Clint came back with: "They're not Hydra. Strucker was based in Sokovia. Recruited kids and," he added, though with a slight grin, seeing the way Pietro opened his mouth to argue, "young adults, essentially as test subjects. Told them a bunch of lies and preyed on the fact that Sokovia's a huge mess right now."

"A mess I helped cause if memory serves, which for the first time in about sixty years, it does. Killed my fair share of Sokovia leaders to keep things destabilized." He said it while looking at Clint, but he said for the benefit of the other two. No lies, no hiding of sins.

"Wanda and Pietro here are the only two who survived the experiments but, even though the survival rates were bad enough to convince most sane men to reevaluate…I don't think Strucker's particularly sane."

"And he's in Sokovia? With the scepter?"

"Well actually…no." Clint looked a little embarrassed suddenly. "I lost it."

"Excuse me?"

"He was in Sokovia, but…I kind of uh messed up on retrieving it. Wanda and Pietro helped me get out but…Strucker got spooked, packed up his base and left. Now we have no clue where he's gotten to. Which is kind of where we were hoping you might be able to help us."

Bucky looked up, a little surprised. "I don't know where he is." He tossed the picture back to Clint.

"I know that. But the base he was at in Sokovia, was a top secret, off the books base. The type that, even if you could find some mention of them in the leaked Hydra files, could take years to uncover. Brock was the one that told me about it in the first place because he'd been there. We figure if Strucker was at a base like that, he's likely moved to another off the books base. But we don't know any others. But you…well we thought you might know where more are. Since…" Clint trialed off, a little awkwardly.

"Since Hydra never felt a need to hide locations from me since I'd never be able to remember them." He began to tap his foot. "So what exactly is this? Civil war between what's left of Hydra?" He glanced between Clint and Brock. "Why do you guys want the scepter in the first place and how do I know you'll do anything better with it than Strucker?"

"Hey," said Brock, holding up his hands. "I don't care who's got the scepter. I'm just here to help Clint."

"I'm retrieving it for Nick Fury."

"Fury? I thought you said that story in the papers was a lie?"

"It is. He's…giving me another chance though."

"Why?"

Clint shrugged. "You'd have to ask him that."

"Somehow I don't think that conversation would go over too great given our last encounter." He tapped his foot again, staring at the picture of the scepter that still lay on the table next to Clint's elbow.

He should have no earthly reason to trust Barton. None….except….well, two. One, the Avengers had stepped up and told that lie for him. Steve had told that lie for him. Steve was an idiot who believed the best of everyone, and didn't Bucky know it. Steve would have let Bucky pummel him to death, because he believed so thoroughly. But that belief, that faith…Bucky had always loved that about him.

And then there was the girl setting across the table: Wanda. She'd been in his head. That should make him want to run out of here as fast and as far as he could, after all the ways his mind had been abused and turned against him. But she'd been so deep in there…he'd caught a glimpse of her own.

There was fire there, but it was warm and welcoming fire.

Besides, when the words had been taken out, he'd been given something he thought he'd never have again. Freedom, freedom to stop being terrified. He supposed he could start using it now.

"All right," he said. "I'll help you find the bases."