If I still have any readers out there, someone pray for me to get the call I've been waiting for…

Sticking to my tentative, loose schedule.

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Chapter 20

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed with his notebook in his lap, freshly showered and dressed, flipping through the book. She had given it to him several days ago, but the book was nearly full. He still had a good chunk of blank pages left, but a vast majority was filled with thoughts and memories.

Bucky had carefully marked the pages with good memories with a little star in the corner, bad memories with an X, and left his thoughts blank. He didn't want to not write down every bad thing, every mission, because he didn't want to ignore or forget that it had happened. Because it did, it was real.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking down at one memory with a little X in the corner. He had marked the margin with an arrow about halfway down the page. It was a memory of their brain-washing process, them reciting a string of words from a book.

He needed to find that book.

Bucky snapped his journal shut and quietly placed it in the top drawer of the nightstand. He felt ready to rejoin Steve out in the kitchen, smelling the food in the air. It still felt good to be able to make decisions. Doing what he wanted when he wanted.

Freedom.

"I was deciding whether or not I should come get you," Steve explained when Bucky walked into the kitchen to see Steve eating out of a bowl at the kitchen island. "Figured you'd come out when you were ready. I left you a bowl on the counter."

Bucky wordlessly picked up the bowl and began to fill it, the aroma so familiar his chest ached. Maybe this was a bad idea, he thought absently and he turned and sat down next to Steve at the island counter.

Steve was turned away from the counter, angled towards the TV in the other room, the news flashing across the screen. He ate his own meal slowly, watching whoever was speaking carefully.

The first spoonful was intense. He remembered the taste so well. A simple soup from the 30s could help him remember so much. Sensory memory is probably going to be key, Clara had told him once. A smell or taste can trigger memories.

"It's taking investigators some time to search through all the files—it could be months before actions can be taken against those responsible for some of the—the, quite frankly horrible things described in these files," a news reporter was saying.

"They mention me?" Bucky asked quietly, refusing to look.

"Not for what you'd think," Steve laughed humorlessly.

"We mentioned briefly earlier on in the segment that war hero James Buchanan Barnes, ally of Steve Rogers aka Captain America, has been mentioned in depth in these leaked files from SHIELD," one of the newscasters was saying.

"Sergeant Barnes was the only Howling Commando to give his life for his country—or so we thought," the other chimed in. "Barnes was never actually listed as killed. He was only listed as missing, although his family and friends opted for an empty casket funeral when his belongings were shipped home."

"They're talking about me like I didn't just destroy the country's capitol," Bucky said bitterly, focusing on his soup still.

Steve glanced back at him, but said nothing.

"As it turns out, Barnes was alive—captive in the hands of Russian Hydra agents," the newscaster said gravely. She turned to her male co-host. "How awful that must have been."

"According to the leaked files, Barnes was subjected to horrific and—quite frankly—barbaric forms of what can only be described as torture," he said. "But the list of horrifying missions these agents forced Barnes to commit is lengthy—and his targets? High profile political figures all over the world."

"A few of which," the female broke in, "include the parents of Tony Stark, better known now as Iron Man, and even one of our own presidents."

"There we go," Bucky muttered, waving his spoon towards the TV. "Let's talk about that stuff."

"They aren't blaming you," Steve said gently. "Everyone is pretty understanding that you were made to do it."

"It's just passing blame."

"You don't blame the dog in a dog fight—they're being forced to fight, Buck," Steve reasoned. "It's the people, the owners that are responsible. You can't hold someone responsible for something they are forced to do against their will."

"…what's terrifying is how much this group—Hydra—is responsible for," they were saying now. "They are terrorists. And they've been under our noses all along."

"It brings up a good question," the male started. "Who is Hydra? Who do we trust? Captain America? The Avengers?"

"Captain America's very own childhood friend was, as the leaks state, the 'fist of Hydra'. He killed Stark's own parents, and no one knew until now. Why? The internet has been abuzz this week since this news was released, several conspiracy theorists have hypothesized that even Captain America could have been Hydra all along."

Steve turned off the TV and spun around in his chair before leaving it entirely to refill his bowl. The new silence in the apartment was deafening.

"They're trying to discredit you."

"They can try."

"After all you've done. In the war—"

"Controversy sells in the media these days. Not the honest truth. War, controversy, things that cause people to react the quickest." Steve leaned back against the counter, facing Bucky now, and continued eating. "If I've learned one thing since I woke up, it's that the media has changed. Take it with a grain of salt."

"They'll come for me." Bucky leaned back in his stool and pushed his bowl away.

Steve gave him a look and a raised eyebrow, taking Bucky's bowl and refilling it for him. Who knows when his last home cooked meal was? "They can try."

"But—"

"The Avenger's won't allow it. Not if you don't want to."

"I'm not above the law," Bucky argued tiredly.

Steve hesitated. "We'll just lay low, see how all this plays out in the next few weeks. I'll talk to some people tomorrow, see if we can pull a team together to get started on Hydra. Better to start now while they're scrambling than later when their hiding."

Bucky just continued eating in silence.

XXX

Bucky didn't sleep well that night, waking up every so often at the slightest noise. So he was wide awake when Steve woke up at 6 and left the house. Bucky fiddled around in his notebook, jotting down a few things Steve had told him the night before. It's not your fault. Bellow that he wrote, but never forget it happened. Atone.

Bucky's head jerked up when the door opened nearly two hours later and he heard Steve return to the apartment, a second set of footsteps coming in behind him. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a button down Clara had helped him pick out.

He walked down the short hallways slowly, listening to the hum of the two male voices in the main rooms, something releasing in his stomach at the notion that is wasn't, in fact, Clara in the apartment like he'd feared. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"Hey Buck," Steve greeted calmly. "This is Sam."

Bucky froze seeing the other man standing rigid in the kitchen.

"We've met," Sam said slowly.

Apologize for breaking his toys and I'm sure he'll apologize, too, Clara had told him. They stared at each other for a second. "I'm…sorry…" Bucky said after a little mental struggle.

Steve stepped forward, "Bucky," he started, shaking his head.

"No," Bucky sighed. "I need to start somewhere." He looked up at Sam. "I'm sorry. I wasn't in control, I didn't know what I was doing, but it doesn't excuse that it happened or that I did it and I'm sorry."

Sam closed his eyes and held up his hand for Bucky to stop. "I appreciate it, but I understand."

Bucky shot Steve a look, Steve just smiled and shrugged, arms crossed. "Why?" Bucky demanded.

"I'm not saying everything is okay, I'm still pissed you broke my gear—"

"Tony fixed it," Steve interjected.

"—but I can understand the situation enough to know it wasn't your choice. But like you said," Sam grinned, "you still did it, so I appreciate the apology."

Bucky walked past them both and stepped into the kitchen. "I have a feeling that won't be the case for everyone," he muttered.

"No," Sam agreed, "but all you can do is try. It's up to others how they handle it. The main objective is to help you move on and deal with all that's happened."

"I'm working on it," Bucky muttered.

"And it's going to take time," Steve said, pulling a glass out of the cabinet and handing it to Bucky, who looked at it for a second before smirking. "What?"

"This is a real step up," he said, holding up the glass with a smile. "You're ma had those old chipped china cups that were only ever used on special occasions."

"Like Christmas," Steve laughed. "Dixie Cups."

Sam looked between them, confused. "The paper cups?"

"Only the best," Bucky said, filling his glass with tap water.

"We didn't have much growing up," Steve explained.

Sam sat down in the stool at the kitchen island. "But Bucky is remembering?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I remember…most things."

"Well then, how about where we start with hunting down Hydra?" Sam asked.

"Hold on, before that, I need to contact a few more people, see who else we could get to help out," Steve stated. "The more eyes we have the better."

"The more likely it is someone could get killed," Bucky argued, flesh hand gripping the counter tightly in an attempt to control his emotions, his other hand whirred quickly as he flexed the fingers.

"Occupational hazard," Sam told him, leaning back in his stool. "You telling me you didn't think you'd possibly die when you enlisted?"

Something inside Bucky snapped a little and he felt his adrenaline spike a little. "I didn't enlist," he snapped.

Steve put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Regardless, no one is going to come with us unless they know what we're up against. They'll know what's on the line. They can decide for themselves."

"Well, we already know one Russian who would be willing to help us," Sam noted.

"I left her a voicemail already, so we'll see." Steve leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms.

"I know what we need to do first," Bucky told them. "There's a book we need to find, first. I just don't know where it is."

"What's in it?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"Nothing good," Bucky mumbled, putting his empty glass in the sink.