This is the longest chapter I have written between my two fics. Also, fair warning, this is a flashback galore chapter so...yeah. Enjoy!

BUCKY

Brooklyn Apartments, New York
2017

Bucky climbed the steps as quietly as he could as he followed the crow. He cringed here and there at the creaking the steps made as he pressed his foot down on specific steps. He kept climbing, though until he got to the fifth floor. He stepped out of the stairwell; the lights brighter than they had been a year ago from what he could remember. He began to walk down the long, narrow hall, eyes glancing at the doors on either side of him before he stopped at the door that had the number 509 and he stood there, not knowing what he should do.

A weight suddenly landed on his bare shoulder and he turned his head. One black, beady eye regarded him with what looked like to be a key in its beak. Bucky lifted a hand and the key was dropped into it. As soon as the key contacted his palm, he was pulled into another memory.

2000

"Where should we put the spare key?" asked an eighteen-year-old Steve as he held it up. They had just gotten settled the apartment after Bucky, who was nineteen, took him in after his mother succumbed to an illness a few weeks earlier.

"On top of the door frame?" Bucky suggested with a grin, causing Steve to look at him, unimpressed.

"On top of the door frame? Seriously?"

"Do you have a better Idea?"

Steve opened his mouth before he paused and his mouth fell shut, which made Bucky grinned in triumph before grabbing the key, opening the door and, after making sure no one was around before reaching up and carefully setting the key on top of the door frame. Then, he went back in and closed the door, dusting off his hands.

"No one's going to see it." Bucky stated with confidence.

"Whatever you say, Buck."

Bucky shook his head and, after a taking a deep breath, he slotted the key in and turned it and the key turned effortlessly, the lock unlocking with a click. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open and he stepped inside, the door closing behind him, eyes looking over every square inch he could see.

The living room was just how he remembered it, which was surprising. It was still a decent size for two people with a familiar couch that was nestled against the wall with a coffee table in front of it. There was a window on the far wall that looked out on the alleyway below. Across from the couch was a TV that was mounted on the wall. Below it was another table that had a DVD player, some DVDs and two framed pictures.

He made his way over and picked up the first picture. It had him and Steve celebrating getting the apartment, which was his idea to boost up Steve's mood. It had been taken by him as well, hence the picture seemingly been taken crookedly.

He set it down and picked up the second. It was of both him and Steve again, his time it was when Steve had turned twenty-one and they both had a drink in their hands. It was, once more, taken by him, trying to stretch his arms as out as he could before taking a picture.

2003

"Happy birthday, birthday boy!" Bucky stated as he walked into the apartment, a case of beer in his hand. He closed the door behind him before walking over to the couch and sitting next to Steve, who was busy sketching something that Bucky couldn't see. He didn't mind as there's only one thing on his mind; making sure that Steve had his first drink with the older.

He watched as Steve flipped the sketchbook closed, setting it down on the coffee table before giving him full attention before eyeing the case that he held in his hand. Bucky just set it down on the ground, took one bottle out of the case, opened it and handed it to Steve before grabbing and opening one for himself.

"Come on, Stevie. Don't be so uptight. You turned twenty-one, you know you need to have at least one drink on your birthday. It is law."

"I doubt that." Steve mumbled before they gently knocked their bottles together and he took a sip. His face automatically pinched from the taste and Bucky let out a bark of laughter. Steve gave the older a mock glare before grumbling and taking another sip while Bucky took a large swig.

Bucky set the frame down before walking into the kitchen/dining room. The sink, cabinets, fridge and stove all sat snugly against one wall while a rather small table stood in the middle of the room, three chairs were pushed into it.

He took a breath and set a hand one a countertop.

2005

"What are you trying to make?" Bucky questioned as he peered into the pan that held…well, something burnt.

"It was supposed to be Pancakes." Steve muttered as he stared at the pan. "I was trying to cook us a good breakfast this time since you worked late last night."

Bucky pat Steve's back soothingly. "Well…. A for effort. Come on, let's have breakfast at that one café- the one with that cute waitress you're always looking at."

He slung his arm around Steve's shoulders cheerfully, ignoring his best friend's stuttering and the pink tint that dusted the other's cheeks.

He turned and walked out of that room, through the living room and stopped at the closed door that was Steve's room. He steeled himself as much as he could before he pushed the door open, holding his breath as it swung in a wide arc and hit the wall with a dull thud.

A bed was against the wall, right next to the window that was on the far side of the wall. The bed was made, ready for its once occupant to come and sleep in once more. A dresser was on the other side of the room with an old TV sitting on top of it. There was just enough room for some framed pictures to sit. There was a closet on the opposite wall of where the bed sat, still closed. On the wall above the bed, there was an Uncle Sam 'We Want You!' poster.

He made his way over to the dresser, looking at the frames and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. They were all from their childhood- well, Steve's favorites anyways. One was from when they had first met, the second was when they were in middle school and last was after their graduation.

He shook his head before heading out of the room, down the hall and stopped in front of his own door. He didn't hesitate to open the door and walking in- before stopping in surprise at what he saw.

The set up was Identical to Steve's but his bed had clearly been slept in. The covers were a mess and the pillows were not in their proper place. The TV was a small flat screen and was mounted on the wall above the dresser, so there were more framed pictures that sat. He knew for sure he had the same type of TV that Steve had before they were murdered.

He shook his head and made his way to his old bed, leaning down and grabbing the covers. Papers fell out of the folds when he lifted it, making him frown. He dropped the cover before peering closing at one and he could see a very familiar handwriting. To him though, other than a few words, everything was gibberish, like this specific paper was used for some equations.

The same could be said for another paper that he caught sight of, but it seemed to have dried up tear stains on it.

He felt his throat tightened as a thought entered in his mind on just who was staying in the apartment, on who had been obviously sleeping in his bed.

He stepped away before walking over to the dresser, looking at the framed pictures that sat there. The first one was of him and Steve again, this time it was them going to prom with their dates. The next was their first Christmas at the apartment and when he got to the third picture, he paused when it got the first Halloween, he and Steve had…with Tony.

He was wearing tactical gear Tony had gotten for him along with some black face paint around his eyes- at least, he think it was face paint- and Tony was is the generic scientist outfit. Steve was in a military dress uniform from the WW2 era. Tony was standing between them, arms thrown over both of their shoulders. He was grinning while Steve was smiling and he was trying to keep a stoic expression, which was a fail because the corner of his lips was turning upwards.

He lifted his hand and slowly touched it.

2009

"Hold still!" Bucky heard Tony huffed in front of him as he kept his eyes closed. He could feel smaller hands smearing the black face paint on his eyelids and the area around his eyes. "I'm almost done."

"Is this added touch really necessary?" Bucky questioned the younger.

"Of course, I don't actually have any masks so this will have to do as the next best thing."

"If you say so, Tones."

"I know so." Bucky could just hear the cheekiness in Tony's tone. "Done."

Bucky opened his eyes before he went straight into the bathroom and peered in the mirror at his reflection. The black around the eyes were heavily smudged with some streaks going past his eyebrows and cheekbones.

"Scoot." Tony nudged him out of the way so the other could wash his hands and Bucky watched as the black paint went down the drain.

"You two almost done?" asked Steve from the living room.

"Almost." Tony answered.

"Hurry up, we're gonna be late!"

"Be patient, ya punk!" Bucky shouted back playfully before going behind Tony and shuffled passed and through the door, walking into the living room.

"I'm not even going to ask what Tony was thinking." Steve deadpanned once he saw Bucky's eyes.

"Oh, shut up, Steve." Tony grumbled as he walked into the living room after Bucky. "Gotta make do with what you got."

Bucky watched as Steve just rolled his eyes and adjusted his tie.

"Let's go, Doctor, Assassin. Time to get this show on the road." Steve was out the door already, making Bucky snort before he followed with Tony.

Bucky took a shuddering breath, letting his fingers fall from the picture. God, he was so hung up on Steve that he didn't even think about how Tony must feel once he learned of their deaths. He was a terrible friend.

His eyes lingered on the picture before he looked to the next one and his breath caught in his throat. The picture was the most recent one prior to his death, a few months before. He was laying on his back, obviously asleep on the couch. A foot was planted on the floor while his other leg was stretched out.

What really got Bucky, though, was that Tony was laying on him. The younger had slotted himself between Bucky's legs comfortably, stomach against Bucky's crotch, head laying on Bucky's chest. He could see Tony gripping onto Bucky shirt while Bucky had an arm wrapped around his waist, and it was obvious that Tony was asleep also from the content look on his face.

He swallowed and touched the picture.

2016

Bucky took a swig of his beer as Tony took a swig of his and Steve taking a sip of water, much to Tony's and Bucky's amusement. Since that first time drinking with Bucky, Steve had decided to just chose water often, but Steve did have his moments where he does choose to drink.

Tony let out a laugh at something Steve had said, making Bucky eye the two. They were getting long, which was great. Hell, Steve even said that Tony could be his best man at any future weddings that Steve may have. Bucky couldn't talk, though, he had said the same thing. Although, it was much more strained with Bucky, giving his feelings for Tony.

"Brooooklyyyyyn…" Tony drunkenly drawled as he leaned heavily against the said man.

"Yes, Tony?" It was clear to Bucky that he really should cut Tony off- he had multiple of bottles already.

Tony didn't say anything, he just nuzzled into the other man with a mumble. Bucky listened as Tony's breathing evened out, signaling that he was now asleep. With a sigh, Bucky maneuvered them until he was laying on the couch and Tony was laying on top of him, an arm securely around the other's waist.

"Don't you two look cute." Steve teased, making Bucky shoot him a look. Steve just threw him a grin before starting to clean up and Bucky just dozed off after a few minutes.

A caw broke him out of the memory, making him blink and look. The crow was on top of the TV, head turning to look at the closet before looking back at him. With a deep breath, he stepped away from the dresser, walked over and opened the door. All the clothes he had was inside- except for a few articles of clothing.

He knelt to peer at the bottom of the closet and there, he could see a box. He carefully opened it and the tactical gear was all clean and void of wrinkles and any forms of dirt. He took it all out of the box, as well as the old boots beside the box, And changed his pants before putting on the rest of the technical gear before he paused and looks down at the sleeve that was covering his new arm. He reached up and gripped the sleeve before he ripped it off in one, solid motion. Then, he was putting on his boots, grab the face paint and did his best to recreate Tony's work. He made sure to put it back where he found it, washed his hands before putting on the fingerless gloves.

After walking out and replacing the key from where it was, he got onto the roof to stare out to the darkened city, the crow landing on his shoulder. He reached his flesh hand up to feel his lower jaw and he knew that he was going to have to find something, a mask, to hide the lower half of his face.

He will figure that out and then, he will move on with the mission.

Burning the HYDRA organization to the ground once and for all.