Marvel Cinematic Universe
The Path Not Taken
By Gabrielle Lawson
Chapter Five
Steve watched Bucky's eyes darting back and forth under his eyelids. REM sleep, it was called. It meant he was dreaming. Steve hoped he was dreaming something nice. He hoped the newer memories of killing people at Hydra's orders would hold off for a while and give Bucky a bit of a reprieve before the weight of it all bogged him down.
Steve went back to his book. It wasn't easy reading. Sam had suggested it to help him understand Post Traumatic Stress Disorder a bit better. It was fascinating though, and a little disturbing when he recognized some of the signs in himself. He didn't get panic attacks or flashbacks but he did ruminate from time to time and even give in to bouts of depression. He didn't stay in them, so that was a good sign. He had always managed to find a few things to be thankful for. When he was young, it was his mom and Bucky's friendship. When Bucky shipped out, it was Agent Carter, Dr. Erskine, and being allowed to enlist. After the serum, it was being strong and healthy for the first time in his life. Even when he was little more than a dancing monkey for selling war bonds, it was getting to travel, to see the country outside of Brooklyn. And garnering the attention of countless beautiful women. He'd felt like what he imagined Bucky had felt like with all the girls fawning after him. In the war, he had Bucky and Peggy until he didn't have Bucky anymore. That was one of the times he'd given in.
After the ice, it was things like he'd told Sam. Horrible diseases cured or wiped out though vaccinations. Technological advances had made many things in life easier, if busier. Movies were in color and had way better effects. Even fanciful things looked very real. The alien invasion of New York was hard, but he'd made new friends in Clint, Natasha, Tony, Bruce and Thor. The last few weeks in DC had gotten very hard, but in the end, he had a new friend in Sam and he'd found Bucky alive.
Steve looked up from the book. Bucky's eyes were closed but still and his brow was creased. He was waking up. Steve felt relief wash over him, but he tamped it down. He needed to read Bucky and meet him where he was.
Bucky's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. But the pain must have stopped him. He turned his head and met Steve's gaze. Steve smiled lightly. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"
Bucky stretched his right hand down to where the bandages would be. He tried sitting again. Steve reached for the bed controls. "Let me help." He tilted up the head of the bed until Bucky was more sitting than laying down.
"Where are we?"
"New York," Steve replied. "Manhattan, in fact. In Tony's tower."
"He has a whole tower?" He pushed back the blanket covering his torso and legs then turned his legs to stand up. Steve offered an arm to help him steady himself, but let Bucky do the work.
"Well, he's Howard Stark's son. He made my shield and upgraded our equipment in the war." Steve looked at Bucky's face for any recognition but he didn't see it. "He was a friend and an inventor. And he was very rich. Your last day in New York, we went to the Stark Expo. We watched him levitate a car. For a few minutes, anyway."
Steve helped him walk to the large window on the opposite wall. "New York," Bucky repeated, like he was trying out the words.
"Yeah, we're from New York," Steve told him. "Not Manhattan though. Brooklyn. Can't see it from here."
Bucky seemed to be scanning the view outside the window. Steve could see the river beyond the other tall buildings, the harbor beyond that. "Who is the woman?"
Steve smiled beside him. "Lady Liberty. That's the Statue of Liberty. She greeted many immigrants coming to America, and soldiers coming home. Though not you and I until now."
Bucky's forehead creased and he stepped back. "No blinds."
"It's okay," Steve assured him. "We're so high up, no one else can see in. Besides, from the outside, these windows are dark, almost black. We're safe here."
Bucky stepped forward again. "Before I saw you, I saw something else. Someone else. But I don't remember now."
"You were dreaming." Steve felt a pang in his stomach. Had Bucky never dreamed as the Winter Soldier or did he just not remember dreaming? "It's normal to forget them when we wake up. The good ones anyway. The scary ones, though, they stick around longer. They're called nightmares."
The elevator dinged and Tony stepped out. "Bucky, this is Tony. He owns the building."
Tony offered his hand to Bucky but Bucky just stared at it then back at Tony. Tony pulled his hand back. "Well, maybe later. Nice to finally meet you, Sergeant Barnes."
Bucky breathed the word, 'Sergeant' as a question.
"I told you we were in the Army. You were a sergeant. That was your rank."
Bucky turned to look at him. "Yours?"
"Captain. That's a little higher, but it didn't really matter between us."
Tony cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, officially, we met yesterday. I flew us here in my helicopter."
"I remember," Bucky told him. "Are you also Steve's friend?"
Tony turned to gaze out the window so Steve and Bucky did, too. "I like to think so. We're more of a team, really. Well, part of a team. We call ourselves the Avengers. We're the good guys. We fight the bad guys." He pointed out the helicopter pad and the streets beyond. "We fought real space aliens right over there. Even here at the tower."
"Space aliens?"
Welcome to the future, Steve thought. "People from another planet. I know, that one is shocking. But even a guy on our team is from another planet, called Asgard. He's strong like us, but not because of any serum."
Bucky looked at Tony. "Are you strong like us?"
Tony put his hand to his chest. "Me? No. I'm just rich, and a genius. I wear a suit that makes me strong. I can even fly in it. I like to make things, new things, better things. So if you ever decide you want a better arm, we can work on that."
"Tony," Steve warned.
"Just planting a seed," Tony said, backing up. "No rush. You hungry? We're about to have lunch in the common room downstairs. You're welcome to join everyone or you can have it brought down to your room."
"I have a room?"
Steve put a hand on Bucky's back. "We should probably get settled in first. Maybe change out of pajamas."
Tony opened his jacket and pulled out one of his tablets from an inner pocket. Steve appreciated that he'd done that in an exaggerated way. Less likely Bucky would think he was pulling a weapon. "Here's the spread. Choose what you want and we'll have it sent down."
Steve took the tablet and nodded his thanks. He steered Bucky toward the elevators. "We do have a room, well, rooms. It's like our old apartment, except bigger, nicer, and not old."
Bucky didn't seem fazed by the elevator and Steve remembered Natasha's realization. He only knew what was relevant for his missions. He's probably used elevators before.
Natasha got a ping on her phone. Olga had come through. She needed a drop zone for the package. It would be there on Tuesday. Natasha checked the map and gave her coordinates to small coffee shop in Hell's Kitchen. Olga sent back a photo of a man and a time in Greenwich Mean Time.
She already hated what she knew of Barnes's treatment at the hands of Hydra. Still, it felt to her to be somewhat voyeuristic. The man didn't know these things for himself. But she didn't think he was ready to know them. And she didn't know if was better to tell him or let him organically remember. If he could remember that far back.
"You gonna eat those fries?" Clint leaned over and pointed to her plate.
"Yes," she told him, slapping his hand away. She put her phone back in her pocket.
Barton scooted closer to her. "I saw the news clips, the viral videos. You really trust this guy?" He'd kept his voice low so only she could hear.
Natasha did likewise. "As long as he doesn't hear the activation words, yes. He's a victim, not a villain."
"Okay." Clint bumped her shoulder. "If you trust him, I'll trust him."
"I need you all on board here," Tony was saying. "I've told Barnes he's safe here. If he's not, I'll secret him away somewhere else. But it would be easier to just keep him here." Clint gave him a thumbs up.
"Seventy years of torture," Thor said. "It would be an injustice to subject him to more. He deserves a chance at redemption."
"If you're on board, Tony," Rhodey stated, "I'm on board. But I don't know where you're going to find a therapist who won't have to report him. And he's gonna need a therapist."
"We've got Sam," Natasha spoke up. "He's a counselor for vets with PTSD. Not quite a therapist but better than none at all. He'll be up on weekends."
"Remind him to get me plans for the wing suit," Tony told her.
Maria Hill held up a hand. "I'm just glad Steve got through to him. Count me in."
That left Banner. Everyone turned to look at him. He looked up from his fries. "I turn into a giant, green rage monster, so who am I to judge?"
Tony nodded. "Right, that's everyone. He's staying with Steve for now. He's only five days out from the last memory wipe so he's still a bit shy."
"Not to mention he just had surgery yesterday for a ruptured spleen," Natasha reminded everyone. "He heals fast, like Steve, but he's not ready for a meet and greet. He's learning to be human again."
Under the table, Clint's hand squeezed hers. Natasha had always been human. Even in her worst days a Black Widow for the Red Room, she'd felt it every time she took a life. Barnes had been erased to a level that far exceeded her undoing.
"I can't super vet every member of my staff up here," Tony said, getting serious. "That means, we have to clean up after ourselves. Cleaners and cooks will have reduced schedules and JARVIS will coordinate so none of them will know he's here. We may have to step in. Pepper just delivered their lunch."
"If he needs to spirited away at some point," Clint whispered, "would he be okay around the kids?"
Natasha wasn't sure. Kids could be unpredictable. She wasn't sure how he'd react if one came running toward him, for instance. "Hopefully, it won't come to that until he's a bit further along."
Clint nodded and went back to eating. Natasha smiled. He'd taken a chance on her just as she had with Barnes. For all his crassness, Clint Barton was a good man. She figured if Fury had sent anyone else after her, things might have gone differently.
"So for now, we just stay out of his way?" Rhodey asked.
"He's met a few people in the last few days." Natasha pushed her plate with the last of fries over to Clint. "Me, then Sam, now Tony. We shouldn't overwhelm him. If you happen to see him, don't make a big deal out of it. Just let him be. We'll try and introduce everyone slowly. No offense, Thor, but we'll probably start with the humans."
"None taken," Thor replied. "I think meeting a God of Asgard would rank as overwhelming only five days from having his memory wiped with electricity to his brain. And my particular skill might remind him of past pain."
As the crowd began to break up, Tony approached her and pulled her to a quiet corner. "Got word back from the neurologist. Definite brain damage, mainly in areas that store memories. But get this, the amygdala handles fear memories. It sits deep in the brain. It's mostly fine, hardly damaged. That's why he feared the machine. The hippocampus though, was effected and it's deep in there, too. Prefrontal cortex is largely fine which is how he can still access all his fighting skills. But here's the kicker: Dr. Salazar doesn't think there's as much damage as there should be."
Natasha mulled that over. "What did you tell him?"
"Not much," Tony replied. "Multiple zaps for several decades. He wants another scan in a week so he can compare. If his brain is physically healing, that explains how he's getting memories back. And why they kept doing it."
"You mean besides them being assholes?" Natasha asked. She didn't think they needed additional reasons. "Besides, he had weeks after the first one and didn't get his memory back. And he was able to decide to save Steve less than twenty-four hours after his last."
Tony nodded. "Steve was the catalyst. After the first wipe, he had nothing to jog his memory, until Zola walked in the room perhaps. But then it's seven hours of hell and a sleepless night. He did attack them after that, which led to his second wipe."
He definitely had a reminder the last time. And he had recognized Steve somewhat after the first fight. So maybe Tony was right. "We should find photos of his family, the Howling Commandos, other things from his past."
"We can do that," Tony said and she could almost see the gears in his head turning. "I'll get JARVIS to scour the internet."
"I think real photos would be useful." There was something tactile about a photo that a .jpg just couldn't match. "I think I'll send Clint on a scavenger hunt."
Bucky was watching a documentary JARVIS had put together to catch them both up on the decades they'd largely missed. They'd finished World War II together after lunch. It had brought a lot of memories back for Steve. For him, it was only a few years ago. For Bucky, it was more distant as he'd been out of the ice now and then. But his memory was still just a few pieces of moments here and there until this last week. Seems his memory worked best in reverse. Most recent events slipped back easier, and in bigger, more connected, pieces. The older memories of his family or Steve were disjointed and fewer in number. Steve worried about what that meant for his friend going forward.
Steve left the living room and went to the bedroom. He texted Sam to see if he was available to talk. The reply was almost instant. Steve's phone began to ring. He answered and held it to his ear.
"How's it going?"
"Slowly. He's awake; he can walk. But still, he just barely remembers me. Or himself for that matter. But he remembers Alexander Pierce and being thawed out at the bank. He remembers from all that way to now."
"Steve, I saw the video. That he can remember anything at all is amazing. And it sounds like it's coming back."
Steve sighed. "I know. I know. I just…. I remember what it felt like when I lost him. When I saw him at the dam.…"
"You got your hopes up? He was going to see you then it would all come flooding back and he'd be the Bucky you lost?"
Steve shook his head. "Yeah."
"It doesn't work like that, man. Think about it. He was in the freezer more often than he wasn't, but he was the Winter Soldier for seventy years. That's more than half of his life. That's longer than he was Bucky Barnes. With luck, and help, he'll get Bucky back, but he's still going to be changed by those experiences. I've been reading your biography.…"
"I have a biography?" Steve felt vaguely mortified.
Sam laughed. "Several. This one's sources are pretty good: Peggy Carter, the Howling Commandos, your old teachers and neighbors, Bucky Barnes's sisters. So you know there's a fair amount of Bucky in here."
Of course, there was. His early life was inseparable from Bucky's.
Sam went on. "My impression was, he was a strong, confident, very good-looking young man. He smiled a lot; he was somewhat cocky but he had the goods to back it up."
Unlike me back then, Steve thought. "Yeah, sounds like him."
"But the Howlies, they don't see it that way. He still had the goods, but he didn't smile that often, except when you were around. That first time he was captured, tortured, that changed him, didn't it?"
Steve sighed. "Yeah, but he was still Bucky. He knew when to be serious and when to joke. He never let me get bogged down in worry or doubt."
He heard Sam sigh. "Some of the other guys saw what you missed. The way his sleep was always restless. That he got lost in his thoughts or sometimes panicked when he wasn't sure where you were. There was a wariness that almost never left his eyes."
Steve looked back in his own memories to his time with the Commandos. He hadn't seen it. Why hadn't he seen it? "I could have helped him."
"Man, you saved him. But he was still trying to take care of you, like he was doing when you were a tiny little man."
Steve felt terrible suddenly. He'd thought their roles had been reversed. He was the bigger, stronger one. He had saved Bucky, taken care of him when was sick on the way back, but Bucky seemed so much better after that. He'd missed that his friend was still hurting. Maybe he was even afraid of what Zola had done to him. And Bucky covered it by cracking jokes, telling stories and making sure that Captain America was ready for the next fight.
Sam must have guessed his train of thought. "Remember what I said about guys from your generation. You hid that sort of thing. You stuffed it, didn't let anyone see you cry. Bucky would have been the same. If the brass thought he had any lingering side effects from the experimentation, they would have locked him up for study. Then he wouldn't be with you. So he hid it as best he could, made sure he was the Bucky you knew."
Steve leaned over so he could see Bucky sitting on the couch. Sam was right. "I don't know what I would have done if they'd sent him home. I know what I wouldn't done if they locked in a lab."
Sam chuckled. "I can imagine. He knew that. And he probably wanted same payback, too. You guys taking out Hydra bases was just the thing for that."
Steve remember Bucky's grim determination as they broke into a base, spraying the occupants with a machine gun while Steve had his shield and a pistol and some of the of others had blue-glowing Hydra weapons. And he remembered the fear in Bucky's eyes after his pistol ran empty on the train.
"Oh, hey, how about some good news? They found your shield in the Potomac. They couldn't find you so they dropped it off with me. Good news for you, that is. Now I've got paparazzi outside my door. So I'm feeling like a leave of absence. Has Tony Stark got a spot for me in that tower?"
Steve laughed. "I'm sure he does. Hey, before you come up, can you get to the Smithsonian, maybe when the crowds are low, do a video walkthrough of the Captain America exhibit? I wanna show Bucky that he was there."
"Yeah, man, I can do that. And Steve, don't beat yourself up about what you didn't notice before. He didn't want you to notice. He didn't want you to worry about him. Just try to notice more now. That's all any of us can do. We can only change what's in our power to change. You can't make him remember, but you can encourage him to remember and you can support him when he processes those memories. The ones with you may be good, but there's decades of memory that will likely haunt him."
Steve blew out a long breath. "I'll do my best. Thanks, Sam."
Steve ended the call then pushed himself up off the bed. He noted that he barely had even a twinge in the places he was stabbed and shot.
Sam came up on Tuesday. The paparazzi had made leaving his driveway difficult but he ignored them and very slowly reversed his rental onto the street. He set the GPS for Stark Tower in Manhattan and used Marvin Gaye to loosen the stiffened muscles in his shoulders and neck as he drove. He had two suitcases of clothes in the back seats. He had a box of other random things he'd like to keep living with in the trunk along with Steve's shield and record player. There was also another box of records from Steve's apartment back there. In the passenger seat, he had his laptop bag and snacks for the road.
He pulled into the rental car return lane at 2pm and turned in the car insurance was paying for. He'd received a check from them for $15,000 for his next car but didn't feel he'd need one in New York. He used Uber to get to Stark Tower. Steve and Natasha helped him load everything onto a cart to wheel to his apartment down the hall from Steve and Bucky. Of course, the shield, records, and record player went to their room.
Tony greeted him personally, which was kind of cool. He also reminded Sam of his offer to build him a new and improved wing suit. Sam let him know he'd take him up on it. He took a ninety minute nap after the drive, then put away his clothes and things. Then he went to Steve's room and knocked on the door.
Steve opened it and stepped aside for him to enter. Bucky had been sitting on the couch but he stood. "Sam," he said.
Sam smiled. "You remembered. Good to see you. How are you feeling? I heard about the spleen."
"Two more days. My arm is fine now."
Sam did his best to not be shocked. One week for a broken humerus! There were definite perks to the super serum. Not enough to make him want it though. "Down to a science. And what about emotionally? How do you feel?"
Bucky froze at the question. "I'm fine."
Sam didn't call him on it. "Good to hear. But you know you can tell Steve, or me, if you're not fine. We can handle it. So what have the two of you been doing to while away the hours?"
"JARVIS made a series of documentaries," Steve said. "We've gone from World War II to the 70s now. Bell bottoms? Really?"
Sam laughed. "Don't blame me! I was a baby then. My parents dressed me."
"The cars were ugly. I preferred the 50s."
Sam was surprised that that had come out of Bucky's mouth. "All the chrome and fins, huh? They were pretty cool back then."
"The music in the 50s was nice, too," Steve added. "The harmonies, the doo-wops and such."
"Maybe I ought to check out these documentaries," Sam commented. "What did you guys think of the Civil Rights era?"
"I didn't like it," Bucky said. He went back and sat down.
Sam wanted to dig into that. "What didn't you like?"
"The white people believed that black people weren't human," he said. "They hurt them."
"Some people still believe that," Sam told him. "But mostly things are better now."
"Gabe was black," Bucky said. "He was smart. Went to college. Spoke French and German."
Sam recognized him as one of the Howlies. "I liked how you Howling Commandos didn't treat him any differently. So what did you think of the 60s? We went to the moon!"
"I killed President Kennedy."
Whoa. Sam hadn't seen that coming. But he probably should have. "How does that make you feel?"
"I shouldn't have. It hurt a lot of people."
Well, that was something. "Hydra made you do it. Remember that. You didn't have a choice."
Steve had gone a little pale at the turn of the conservation. "How were things back in DC?"
Sam took stock and tried to summarize it. "They've started the cleanup in a big way, hoping to salvage some of the raw materials at least from the helicarriers. They came down rather slowly. Not everything broke. Military wants the guns. FBI and CIA want the computers, that sort of thing. They're going through the Triskelion, too. But life goes on. Congress is back in session, starting to hold hearings. We may be called to testify."
Steve blew out a breath. "I hope not."
"Don't worry," Sam told him. "They see you as the hero of the day. Been playing your speech over and over on the news. They arrested four Congressmen and two Senators as Hydra, some of the president's Cabinet. It's quite a shake up."
As he talked, Sam looked around the apartment. No holes in the wall that he could see, so that was good. He walked to the couch and sat down. Steve looked relieved as he sat in the chair. "You know, I admit I've had a few nightmares lately," he said, testing the waters. Steve went pale again. But Sam thought Bucky may have, too. His face was mostly hidden behind his hair, though.
"Really?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, I'll be driving along then an arm will come crashing through the windshield and tear off my steering wheel. The brakes won't work and I'm still going down the road, hoping I don't hit anything."
Steve eyed Bucky, who Sam was sure had stopped breathing. Sam decided to lighten things up a little. "But then I wake up and I'm still at home in my bed. Safe. Sometimes when we experience intense or frightening things, life or death events, nightmares follow. It's a fairly common reaction."
"I… had… a nightmare," Steve said. "I dreamt I was stuck in a sheet of ice, but I could see what was happening beyond it, like the documentaries. I saw Peggy living her life, crying sometimes. And I, um, I saw Bucky with Zola and I would scream and pound on the ice, but I couldn't break it. I couldn't get to him."
Sam nodded. "Things you missed out on, and things you can't change." He turned to Bucky. "What about you? Have you had any nightmares?"
Bucky still had his head down. Sam couldn't see his face but he could see how fast he was breathing and how tense his body looked. Oh, he'd absolutely had nightmares.
"No."
"Bucky.…"
"Well," Sam said, cutting Steve off. "I'm glad one of us can get a good night's sleep. You know, I've never been here before. Maybe you can give me a tour of the tower, Steve?"
Steve looked confused but grateful for the reprieve. He stood. "Sure, uh, Buck, you want to come? You've barely left the apartment."
"I haven't left the apartment," Bucky confirmed without looking up.
"You know you can, though, right?" Sam asked.
He looked up then. And Sam saw something in his eyes. He didn't know him well enough to really read it though. Bucky nodded.
"Okay." Sam walked to the door. Steve hesitated for a moment but met him there.
Steve let out a breath then the door closed behind them. Sam put a hand on his shoulder and led him toward the elevators.
"He lied, Sam. I've heard him wake up suddenly, then he grabs his notebook and heads to the living room. I'll find him asleep on the desk in the morning."
"I know he was lying," Sam told him, smiling lightly. He stopped and Steve stopped with him. "You and I gave him an opening, let him know it was okay to have nightmares. Whatever nightmares he had doesn't sit right with him. If it was him killing someone, like the president, he might be ashamed. That's a conscience, Steve. Or it was Hydra doing something awful to him and that just reinforces that they are the bad guys in his mind."
Steve didn't seem convinced. "So it's good that he lied?"
Sam chuckled. "Well, lying isn't great but he was telling us a lot by lying. So it's okay in this instance. Communication is seventy percent non-verbal. Body language, tone. So, show me around."
"Maybe I should.…"
He turned back toward the apartment. Sam got in his way. "How many times have you left the apartment, Steve?"
Steve dropped his head.
"He chooses to stay," Sam told him. "That's good, shows he's got some autonomy. We're not going to force him into anything unless it's life or death, right? He hasn't had the chance to choose for seventy years. We are going to challenge him, gently, at times, but we gotta let him make decisions. You don't have to be trapped by them."
Steve sighed and nodded. He tilted his head toward the elevators.
Natasha ordered an iced latte and sat down at an empty table. Hell's Kitchen was a seedier part of New York than Manhattan but it didn't bother her. She'd seen worse.
She didn't have to wait long. The man from the photo Olga sent sat down across from her. "I have a package for you." He spoke quietly but didn't whisper, and he had a deep Ukrainian accent.
"Can I buy you a coffee for your trouble?" she asked him.
"Olga says you're even." He slipped a thick manila package across the table then stood up and left.
Natasha took a sip of her latte and opened the envelope. A KGB file came out. The inside cover had two photos pinned to it. One was Barnes's Army photo. He'd been handsome, smiling like that. The other was larger, bathed in blue. His hair was longer and his eyes were closed. His face was framed in a glass window, and she knew what that was. Cryostasis.
She checked that no one was watching and read the cover letter on the opposite side. Everyone knew Stalin was no saint, but they were supposed to be allies when Bucky was found on the banks of the Danube. Stalin had thousands, tens of thousands, of his own people murdered and starved. It probably shouldn't be a surprise that he'd played both sides. Let Hydra keep a small foothold in Siberia. They were probably in Moscow, too, but maybe he didn't know about them. They let him think he was keeping them in check.
The rest of the pages bore this out. One way they let the USSR think they were in line was by sharing the Winter Soldier. That was his Russian name. No Enhanced Manpower Asset here. They helped in the first couple of years after the surgery. Working to break him with their more conventional methods. His handlers were always KGB agents, though they had a habit of being recruited into Hydra. The KBG would turn a blind eye to that as long as they got their Winter Soldier missions.
And there were missions. She found a dozen or so, some even after the fall of the Soviet Union and even the closure of the Siberian base. Vasily Karpov, former KGB, was the handler until Barnes was transferred to America in 2011, to Alexander Pierce. Barnes had been tasked to kill several protest leaders in Eastern Europe in the late eighties, but the revolutions went on in spite of them. Or, it was hinted, because of them. Some became martyrs. Maybe Hydra wanted the Soviet Bloc to crumble.
She found her engineer from 2009. Iran had asked for Russia's help in returning him or killing him. Natasha knew very well how it ended.
There was a page that shocked her. Barnes had been sent to the Red Room. It was a few years before her time there. He was meant to train some of the older girls. But it didn't work out. Despite the Widows' skills, none could match his enhanced strength and reflexes, or that arm. And he was programmed to kill, not to train. Five girls died and the training program was deemed too costly and cancelled. The Winter Soldier was an assassin, not a teacher. Though the instructors had glowing things to say about his conditioning, the level of mastery Karpov had over the former American POW.
Natasha flipped through the pages, looking for where the Winter Soldier base had moved after the Siberian base was abandoned and before Barnes was sent to America. But it wasn't there. She was sure it would be in the info dump. It would be a Hydra base, and not a Russian or Soviet one.
She closed the file. This filled in the missing pieces. And it didn't surprise her at all that the motherland would have dirtied her hands by working with Hydra to turn a good man into a killing machine. She'd done it all on her own to hundreds of little girls.
She tucked it all back into the envelope and put that inside her jacket. She left a tip on the table then made her way back toward Manhattan. She had to try and coax Barnes out for another brain scan.
As Steve finished the tour, JARVIS informed them that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes. "I guess I should head back."
"Oh no you don't," Sam said. "I'm not gonna eat alone in my room but I don't know those other folks. I'll need an introduction."
The elevator opened and Natasha stepped out. "Hi, boys."
"Nat," Steve said. He turned to Sam. "Nat can introduce you."
"Oh, to the other Avengers?" She shook her head. "I'm not up for a big crowd tonight. Thought I might have dinner with Bucky."
"See?" Sam smiled. "Let's go see your other friends for an hour or so."
Steve sighed. Nat had only arrived and she ganged up on him with Sam. Still, she'd eaten with Bucky back at the dam so he trusted her. So Steve relented and he and Sam turned toward the common room.
Steve expected Clint to be there but he wasn't. He figured Bruce would be there and he was. But he thought Rhodey had been away and Thor had been back at Asgard. The God of Thunder smiled when he saw them and pulled Steve into a hard bear hug, lifting him from the floor. "I knew you were skulking about here somewhere!" he said as he set him back on his feet.
"I wasn't skulking," Steve argued. "Thor, this is my good friend Sam. Sam, the God of Thunder."
"God of Thunder?" Sam questioned.
"Please, call me Thor." He clapped Sam on the shoulder a little too hard. "So you, Natasha, Steve, and Hill took down all of Hydra?"
"Well, Fury helped but yeah," Sam said.
Steve steered them toward the table which was beginning to fill up. "You know Maria and you've met Tony. This is Rhodey. He has a suit like Tony's, and this is Dr. Bruce Banner."
"Otherwise known as the Hulk," Banner added sheepishly. "You must be Sam, the one flying around those helicarriers. Very impressive."
Sam blushed. "Thanks. Suit's broken though."
"Did you bring plans?" Tony asked, as he appeared behind Sam.
"Not to dinner," the latter replied.
Tony seemed satisfied with that. "Okay, bring them to my lab after dinner. Let's eat!"
Steve filled his plate then took a seat on the other side of Sam who was sitting by Rhodey. The two of them were talking about the way their suits flew.
"Itis good to see you out and about," Bruce said from his other side.
"It does feel good to be out," Steve admitted. He didn't mind being with Bucky all day but it was kind of relaxing to hear the soft small talk of friends around the dinner table.
Natasha stepped into the common room long enough for Pepper to hand her a tray of food then she took that back down to the living quarters. She knocked on the door with her foot as the tray was quite heavy. Barnes opens the door then took the tray from her and carried it to the dining table just outside the kitchenette. "Where's Steve?"
"He's eating with the team tonight," Natasha told him. "Just you and me, like back at the dam." They passed out the dishes and drinks before sitting down to eat. She let him make good headway into his meal before she asked him how his mission was coming.
"Learning to be human? I don't know."
She looked him over. "Well, you had no problem choosing your own meal tonight. You're dressed in clean clothes; your hair is clean and combed. You look more comfortable than that first day."
"Comfortable." He mulled that for a moment as he took another bite. "Yes, I am more comfortable. I remember Steve. Not just the stories he tells. I remember some things myself."
Natasha smiled. "That's good. Do you remember other things? Your family, the war, your missions?"
He looked away and set down his fork. She reached over and touched his arm. "We know about the missions. We know you had no choice."
He bit his bottom lip. "I killed people."
It was hardly more than a breath. "You had no choice," she repeated. "They didn't give you choices."
"They did," Barnes argued. "Not the mission. The how."
Natasha nodded. "You were trained and programmed. They knew you'd find the most—advantageous—way. They probably knew you were better at strategy than their run-of-the-mill goons. But if you had, at any time, decided not to complete the mission, what do you think they would've done?"
He leaned back and his eyes showed his distress. "They would have punished me. Threatened to shoot me, take me back and punish me."
She leaned forward. "How? You were stronger than them. I wouldn't doubt that you could take ten of those goons before they got you."
He looked away, confused. He started to say something then stopped. He tried again. "Can a person remember something without remembering it?"
Okay, that was a tough one. She pulled her tablet from her bag, queued up the video from the bank to just before the 'treatment' started. She muted it, then showed him. "You're right hand is shaking; you're breathing heavy. Your eyes showed fear. Did you remember what 'wiping' meant or did you just remember it would hurt?"
He flipped the tablet over. "It hurt."
"Yes I do think you can remember some things without remembering specifics. It's called triggering. It happens after we've been traumatized by something that was terrible or life-threatening. They must've punished you a lot before they made you strong. I know they punished you after with the machine."
His eyebrows dropped. "Why?"
"Because they wanted to demonstrate that the serum worked. But you killed about six of them before they stopped you."
"I killed them?" He leaned closer. "And they didn't kill me?"
"You were too valuable to them."
He was looking right through her now. "Asset. They called me Asset. But I was less than them."
Natasha nodded. "They needed to make you think that, to believe it. Because otherwise, you were too strong. So they took your memories away again. But the idea that you were less, that they could punish you, make you hurt, you kept that the idea of that. It kept you in line. And any sign of independence, of stepping out of your place, meant the machine." He touched his arm again. "Enough heavy talk for now. Let's eat. Why don't you ask me some questions and I'll do my best to answer."
Steve looked at his watch. He'd been having such a good time catching up with everyone that he'd lost track of time. It was after ten. Bucky had been alone—except for dinner with Natasha—for hours. And where was Natasha anyway? She hadn't come back after picking up the food. Tony was missing, too.
Steve said his farewells and headed to the elevators. He knocked before he opened the door as he didn't want to startle Bucky. But there was no answer, so Steve let himself in. The table was full of empty dishes but neither Bucky nor Natasha were there. He checked the bedroom and bathroom but he was alone. "JARVIS, where is Sergeant Barnes?"
"Sergeant Barnes is in the med bay."
Steve let the door slam shut behind him. He didn't even bother with the elevators. He'd be faster on the stairs. He emerged just outside the med bay. Natasha and Tony stood beside the bed there. Bucky was sitting on it. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Capsicle," Tony informed him. "We just needed an updated picture of Barnes's brain. And I don't think we need the neurologist to tell us the good news on this one. I can see the difference."
"What difference?" Bucky asked.
Tony threw the image off his tablet into the air. Steve joined Natasha so he could see it the same way the rest of them did. Tony swiped right. "This is from the first scan while you were napping up here." He swiped the other way. "This is today."
Natasha smiled. Steve smiled. He could see it, too. There were less dark areas now.
Bucky was the only one not smiling. "What does it mean?"
"It means that Hydra screwed up," Tony said. "Gave you all those shots or whatever to make you heal fast. Even in your brain. Those dark spots are the damage from the machine they put you in to zap your brain. You had more dark spots last week. So you're healing!"
"That's great news," Steve said, laying a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Should make it easier to remember as it heals."
Still, Bucky wasn't smiling. "That's why they did it? Every mission?"
Steve's smile melted.
"Could have been," Natasha said, sitting beside him. "Or it could have been that Hydra are sadistic bastards and did it just to be extra sure they had you in control."
"I want to go back now." Bucky stood.
"Sure, Buck," Steve told him. "We can go back." They took the elevator this time. Bucky started to put the dishes away, but Steve told him he would do it. Bucky nodded and said he was tired. He headed for the bathroom.
Steve rinsed the dishes then stacked them into the dishwasher. It still wasn't full so he didn't run it. As he wiped down the table, he saw Bucky head to the bedroom. By the time he was done, the light in there was off.
Steve showered and brushed his teeth. He tried to be quiet as he changed into pajamas. On the floor beside the other bed, Bucky's eyelids moved left to right again and again. Steve hoped he was having a good dream, but then he noticed the metal hand was clenched in a fist.
Steve pulled the blankets off his bed and placed his pillow beside Bucky's. As he lay down on his side, he put his hand on Bucky's other arm, hoping that his presence could make a difference, could let the Bucky in his nightmare know that he wasn't alone. Not this time.
