So I guess people are enjoying this? A couple people mentioned how it's hard to imagine he would go out in public with no jacket or gloves. I mean, to me, that's more conspicuous than not. In this day and age, what with the wars overseas, technology is advancing, and we're not terribly far away from those kinds of limb replacement. He could easily tell someone it's a prototype. Or just shove his hand in his pocket. Not that I think anyone would go out of their way to ask. And the t-shirt I think would cover up the star so the recognizable part isn't showing (not that I think it was recognized by anyone…)

I dunno—this is just my interpretation of the general direction I think the MCU is taking, not necessarily how it'll get there, but I really have strong feelings that this is where it's headed.

Review and let me know your thoughts—good, bad, whatever :D

Chapter 4

"Was it you?" Tony demanded. "Did you cause that accident?"

"Tony, what are you talking about?" Clara placed herself between the Winter Soldier, who she knew was about to go on the offensive—she could tell from the tilt of his head, the way his eyes were pinned to Tony.

"Did Hydra hire you to kill my parents in 1991?" Tony demanded, voice shaking in anger. He tried to push Clara out of the way, but she managed to stand her ground.

"Tony, back off—"

"I don't know."

Everything in the room froze.

"You don't know?" Tony snapped. Pepper joined Clara in pulling him back away from the Winter Soldier.

"He has amnesia, Tony—he doesn't even know who he is," Clara grunted, managing to push him back into the desk.

"Well let me tell you who he is based on the files I've been reading all day," Tony snapped, walking back around to his computer. He put his fingers to the screen, tapped a few buttons, and then dragged them across the surface. Suddenly the room was full of words and videos.

The Winter Soldier had seen some outrageous tech working for Hydra, but he had seen nothing like this before.

"You were born in—" Tony began angrily.

"1918," Clara gasped.

"My real name is James Barnes," he told her quietly. "Steve called me Bucky when I met him the other day."

"And today?" Tony guessed, pulling up a video of the helicarriers crashing.

The Winter Soldier didn't respond to him, but he felt Clara step closer to him, regardless of the things he knew she could see all around her. The things he had done over the past few days. He'd killed Fury. He'd tried to kill others. He was the reason the hospital she found him in was so full. The reason she was in that hospital.

"Steve is in the hospital right now," Tony told him. Just another among the many he had put in a similar situation. Why was Steve special? Something in his mind told him he should be.

"I knew him," the Winter Soldier said quietly, walking over to a wall with a few sepia photos. There weren't many—only two or three, but he knew they were him. One he was standing with Captain America.

"Why can't I remember any of this?" he growled, whipping around to his accuser. "If you think you know me so well, why can't I remember being Bucky? Why can't I remember being anything other than the Winter Soldier?"

"Tony, stop this," Pepper said finally.

"This is helping no one," Clara declared. She rounded on Tony. "You have proof Hydra may have had a hand in your parents' deaths, but you have no proof it was him. He has some form of amnesia. Repressed memories have been making themselves known since I met him in the hospital this morning."

"Wow," a new voice murmured. "And I thought I had anger issues."

"Not the time, Bruce," Tony muttered, losing steam.

The Winter Soldier's eyes lingered on the news reels of him in the black mask and goggles, destroying the highway in his pursuit of Steve and his friends. He remembered those. He remembered those as he dragged Steve's body out of the Potomac.

Could he be more than the Winter Soldier? What had driven him to be that? What had made him leave behind that life—leave behind Bucky and become this emotionless assassin? The same questions over and over. He felt like he was running in circles now.

"I was in the army," he murmured, looking back behind him at a sepia photo of him in uniform. He remembered that.

"Drafted," he sighed to himself, no longer in Stark's tower, but in a 30s style kitchen. He gripped the counter and stared down at the letter lying in front of him. He'd been drafted into the war. His life was about to change.

He folded the letter and stuffed it in his jacket pocket, leaving the kitchen, crossing the living room. Ignoring his mother who was calling him name, he slammed the front door shut after him. He wasn't thinking about where he was going, but he ended up in front of the most familiar door in the world.

Kicking aside the brick he picked up the spare key and let himself in.

"Hey, Buck," a voice called to him when he entered the kitchen, flopping down into a kitchen chair. "Hey, what's wrong? Is your mom okay? Rebecca?"

God, how was he supposed to tell Steve—Steve who wanted nothing more than to join the army—that he'd been drafted, forced to do something he would rather do anything but.

The memory faded as insistent words, "Hey, wake up," broke through his confused stupor.

"Connie," he breathed, blinking, wondering how he gotten on the floor.

"Would it be alright if I checked your head?" the man Tony had called Bruce was asking him, hovering over him.

Again, someone was giving him a choice. He nodded his consent after making sure he had no needles or anything of the sort on him. He was wearing simply khaki's and a button down, the sleeves rolled up.

Bruce's fingers flitted lightly around the back of his skull at the back of his neck and behind his ears. The look on his face was not one he ever liked seeing on the faces of the scientists at Hydra.

The Winter Soldier pushed them all away, standing up. "What?"

"Look, I can't say I know what you've been through," Bruce started, "but I know what it's like being a lab rat. But I really want to do a scan of your head—I think Hydra may have implanted something in your head."

"What?" Clara led the soldier to a chair Pepper dragged over from the desk. Without asking, she placed her fingers behind his ears, his hands shooting up and gripping her wrists tightly. When he realized she hadn't been doing anything with malicious intent—he had vastly over reacted—he let his hands slide off her wrists and she continued to prod lightly.

"I can feel something behind his left ear—could be nothing, but the amnesia you explained to me—it's not normal."

"How long was I out?" he muttered to Clara, noticing the videos and photos were gone, and the windows were completely dark now, the sun having gone down.

"About half an hour," Tony informed him from behind the computer again.

"I know I told you back at my apartment that we wouldn't go into your past anymore," Clara began, "but I really think we can help you." His eyes locked with hers.

What would they do if he said no? She had already gotten these three other people involved with him—they could turn him into SHIELD or worse—Hydra.

"You've walked into the HQ of Misfits—you're safe here," Bruce tried.

"Once he's back on his feet we can get Cap here," Tony sighed, "If anyone, he'll know the most—"

"No," the Winter Soldier snapped, standing. His head spun and exhaustion was taking over him again. When was the last time he slept?

"Why not?"

"I'm not…the things I've done," he tried to explain in a hurry. "I can't face—I don't—"

"Let's table that idea for now," Clara suggested. "For now, can we let Dr. Banner scan you for Hydra's tech?"

He nodded once, but firmly. "Just—from what I can remember, the doctors and scientists that have handled me in the past—"

Bruce held up a hand and offered a small smile. "We'll take it slow."

The Winter Solder looked to Clara, who only raised her eyebrows, awaiting his response. How had he, in one day, gone from Hydra, his owners, his commanders, to having…free will? Because he'd chanced upon this female doctor in a hospital in DC?

"Alright."

Bruce turned to Tony, "see if you can have an x-ray machine brought up to the lab?"

"Sure. I'll leave you to that, then," Tony murmured from his desk. "We can talk about the arm when the more pressing matters are dealt with."

Clara nodded and followed the other two back into the elevator.

Once the doors were shut and they could hear the elevator leave the floor, Pepper looked at Tony and crossed her arms.

"What?"

"I thought you destroyed the suits."

He gave her a grin and straightened up, shifting his focus from the computer to her. "Come on, you don't think I'd leave us completely defenseless, did you?"

She sighed and walked around the table. "Not at all. I figured you'd give Dummy a gun as defense."

"I gave Dummy a fire extinguisher once and that was the worst decision of my life. I'm not giving him lethal projectiles," Tony argued lightheartedly.

"Tony," she started seriously, cupping his face in her hands to make sure she had his full attention. "I'm sorry about your parents. Really, I am—but whether or not that man had anything to do with it changes nothing."

"Pep, my parents were murdered," Tony whispered to her. "Dad and I might not have gotten along, but they were still my parents. If he had anything to do with it—"

"Then what? You'll have him thrown in jail? Make him suffer?" Pepper guessed. She let him go and stepped away, finding her shoes by the door. "It looks to me like he's already suffering."

Tony let out a puff of air. "I have to let Cap know he's here, though."

"I know," Pepper murmured, moving back to him to give him a lingering kiss. "I'm going to make dinner and go to bed. I'll see you later, I assume?"

Tony gave her another quick kiss before she left. Once he was alone, he immediately dialed the number for Steve's room at the hospital in DC.

"Hello?"

"This isn't Steve, who is this?" Tony demanded.

"This is Sam," the man responded slowly. "I'm a friend—"

"Ah, codename Falcon. Right. Steve hasn't woken up yet?"

"Not yet—who is this?"

"Tony Stark," he explained quickly. "Tell Steve to give me a call when he wakes up—I've got a friend of his here and Steve and I need to have a little conversation."

"Sure thing."