AN: once again, I am aware that I am claiming a lot of creative right with this one. The story about the Hulk is not accurate, the factions of the KGB, Red Room and my own creation: Unit 37 is not canon, etc.

Please let me know if I need to add a chapter explaining my reasoning for Bucky's quick recovery from the devastating news (and perhaps my whole reasoning behind his recovery… Just for interests sake… up to you guys)

R&R if you like!

Once again, OC centric at times, now also Bucky centric. Warning: mention of sex, but nothing explicit.

I also want an opinion: If there is enough merit I am more than willing on continuing with more detail in this story. At present moment I am rushing it because I just want it out of my head. But there is a LOT more to it than this. So please review if you want it to continue. There might still be a part 3, but if you want more, just shout.

PART 2: Something to hold on to

"Your face is going to stay that way." Amy's voice startled Steve back into reality. He had been staring into space with a concerned frown for more than half an hour.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

She scoffed. "It does nothing to me."

"How are you holding up?" He asked, distracted again.

She scowled at him. "A lot better than you, evidently."

"I'm serious." He insisted, annoyed by her nonchalance.

She sighed. "What do you want me to say?" She asked as she sat down beside him. "Not everything in life can be easy, Rogers. It's gonna take a while for him to get his bearings back. And you have to admit, regardless of how different he is, it's pretty damn nice to have him back."

"I was worried he'd be too different for you." Steve ventured.

She smiled then. "Nah. He's still in there somewhere. And all we have is time. So I'm just glad he's not doing it alone anymore. Between the two of us I'm sure we make one hell of a buffer-shock for reality, don't you think?"

Steve smiled, earnestly. He was relieved that everything was going so well now, although he was cautious about it too, something had to give eventually.

They sat on the balcony of Steve's apartment in silence for a while before Bucky appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the sliding door and sipped at his coffee. Now that Amy was making it again he seemed to drink far too much of it, but Steve was not prepared to argue about it.

"What are you two conniving?" Bucky asked tiredly. He still wasn't sleeping properly.

"The state of Rogers's nerves, as it were." Amy smiled slyly.

Bucky scoffed and extended the mechanical arm to her. He'd noticed that, in her own strange way, she seemed to like the hunk of scrap metal. She stood up and buried herself into his arms.

"What're you so nervous about, punk?" He asked, still holding on to her.

"You two." Steve admitted. He could not help but smile at the insertion of the nickname. Bucky had done it before, but this was the first time that it was unconsciously done.

"I thought it was my job to worry about you." Bucky objected light-heartedly.

"Seriously? I think after everything, I am entitled to at least a little bit of recognition."

"Why? You still don't know how to pick your fights." Bucky snorted.

Steve laughed and shook his head. Since Amy had showed up he's started joking about being the Winter Soldier. This reference to his fight with Steve was nothing new. It had taken quite some getting used to for the Captain. He also started talking about facing Fury at some point. At least he was making some progress. But Bucky was far from alright, still.

"I think we need to get your cyborg ass to bed, babe." Amy stated as she watched him yawn again. It was late, the night was nippy and dark already. He did not argue with her, maybe he needed sleep, no matter how restless it would be.

It had not taken much for the Soldier to leave the motel room he had been staying in for Amy's lavish hotel room. Granted it felt strange as hell for him to be in such luxury, he didn't mind much. The blackout curtains helped him sleep and she was there with him, so he wasn't complaining. The first night they had spent together here he could not sleep at all. She had fallen asleep in his arms and he eventually got up and sat in an armchair next to the bed, just watching her sleep. To his relief he realized that when she was in the bed with him he did not thrash around like he did when he slept alone, but he pulled a gun on the wall several times, which did little for his confidence in his ability to stop himself from accidentally shooting her in one of his fits. It didn't take long for Bucky to become frustrated with his slow progress. He'd imagined that he would progress faster with Amy back in his life, but he felt like his progress had slowed to a crawl.

"Rain?" He said, staring at the ceiling while she lulled between sleep and consciousness with her head in the crook of his right shoulder. His metal arm was folded up under the pillow under his head.

"Hmm?" She hummed sleepily. Where he had been dead tired when they got back he was wide awake now.

"Don't you ever get scared?" He asked. At first he had hesitated with such questions, but she insisted on them, as asking would help his recovery. All in all he knew that she was sort of an expert on this business, so he relinquished his resistance easily enough. It felt wrong to rely on her the way he was, but he noticed that she was holding on to that reliance as much as he was.

"Scared of what?" She mumbled, a little more awake now.

"Of me."

This made her prop herself up on an elbow with an eyebrow raised to chastising heights. "What the fuck for?" She demanded, more playfully than anything else. Surely she knew where this was going.

"It's an honest question." He objected. "I'm not always at my full wits when I wake up like that. And the Winter Soldier is still in there. What if I shoot you? Or choke you? Or something." He wasn't nervous or angry, just curious. She seemed to have logical answers to these conundrums that made him a little less worried about them, and she didn't deny the possibilities that were logically sound, so he felt he could trust her to be honest about it.

Her expression changed to a more contemplative state. "Well, the chances of that happening are slim, but I hear you." She stated before continuing in a pensive manner. "Honestly, there's a lot I can do to make you snap out of it. So I'm not worried about choking, and even if you do that then it's gonna take a lot to actually hurt me, I took the serum too, remember? And as for the shooting, seeing as you don't shoot the walls and you always seem to actively assess the situation the few times you have pointed the gun at me, I sincerely doubt you would shoot to kill. Don't get me wrong; I'm not all that eager to take a bullet for your delirious ass, but it wouldn't be the end of the world."

Its times like these that Bucky wasn't sure whether he wanted to kick her ass or kiss her.

"What if I do kill you?"

"I won't let you. I promise." It was a tentative promise as she considered it carefully. Bucky had realised by now that there were some rules in their relationship which he didn't think was anything new. One of these rules seemed to be that they don't make promises they can't keep. This was a huge comfort to him as he found that it was far easier to trust her words when he knew she wasn't going to give him false hope, or say something just because she thought that was what he wanted to hear.

He said nothing to that, there was nothing to say, he just pulled her down back onto his shoulder.

She yawned. "Get some sleep. You can shoot me tomorrow."

Oddly enough he had to laugh at that. Her view of the world, as twisted as it was, seemed to comfort the broken pieces of his mind. He felt as if he couldn't really do anything that would horrify her, and that was more than someone like him could ever ask for.

It was the first time that week that he got some sleep. It was only in the small hours of the morning that he awoke, but not violently or with a start as he was used to. He woke up groggy and slowly, distantly aware of something. As Bucky attempted to focus his mind he realized what was going on. Amy was mumbling in her sleep. At first he couldn't make out what she was saying, but as his head cleared he made out a few muted words, and then found he wished he hadn't listened. She was repeating something. He caught the words 'say it', 'dead', and 'Barnes'… The way she was saying it seemed uncharacteristic; needy and panicked.

"Rain." He whispered, rubbing her cheek. As soon as her eyes snapped open they searched his face. There was a pain there he hadn't noticed before, an urgency. For a moment she seemed shocked and disoriented, but then she reached out to him suddenly and pulled herself close to his chest. Their legs intertwined and he folded his arms around her, he could feel her shaking. He noticed then that she was crying.

"Are you okay?" He whispered into her hair. He wasn't sure what to do about this, usually he was the one clinging to her.

She hugged him tighter, but nodded. "Yeah. It happens." She finally said, but her voice still sounded small. For the moment he just held on to her until she had stopped shaking. Then she finally turned around, but he still kept his arms around her. She held on to both of them, completely unaffected by the mechanical arm, sometimes he sincerely doubted that she even noticed the fact that it was metal.

"What was that about?" He inquired once he was sure she was calm.

She sighed and whispered. "The usual. You, falling."

He groaned. "I'm sorry."

She huffed. "It's not your fault."

"Well… technically…"

"You know what I mean, Bee."

X-X-X-X-X

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Steve asked quizzically as Amy sat on his kitchen counter waiting for the kettle to boil.

"I don't see why not."

Steve shook his head. "What makes you think it's a good idea for Bucky to just march into Stark Tower and start playing twenty questions with Fury? He's not ready!" Steve protested.

"I'm pretty sure that's for him to decide."

"I'm right here." Bucky interjected. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest next to the counter.

"I don't like it. You don't know what Fury is like. He's gonna want to know everything, and he won't take no for an answer." Steve maintained.

"I know that. But I don't see the point in sitting around here waiting for the grass to grow, Steve."

"So you're willing to put it all at risk because you're bored?"

Bucky shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not going to sit around here doing nothing when I can give the world some answers. And yeah, it's not gonna be fun, I get that. But I'm not some porcelain doll whose gonna break at any moment either. At some point I need to face reality."

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. Just make sure Fury doesn't pull on strings that don't need pulling." He said pointing a finger at Amy accusingly. She smirked at him and eyed Bucky.

X-X-X-X-X

Rogers was not wrong about Fury. He asked a lot of questions and demanded answers pretty adamantly. But you can only smash your head against a brick wall so many times before you start to get dizzy. For once the Soldier thanked fuck for his programming. There wasn't much that Nick Fury could do to intimidate him.

"What is it with you two? Huh?" Fury asked, defiantly as he looked up at Amy after an hour of butting his head on blank stares or clicking of metal fingers from the Winter Soldier in front of him. "Can't you throw a guy a bone?"

"We'll throw, eventually." Amy admitted. "Patience is a virtue, kid."

This drew an amused chuckle from Bucky, finally softening his icy stare. "Maybe you just don't ask the right questions." He added.

"That pretty much amounts to the same thing the doctor, over here, told me months ago. Right after she promised to spill some important beans. Then you showed up and this is the first I've seen of her since." Fury remarked.

"Well then let's get started!" Amy chirped. "Where's Banner?"

"Banner? Why start with him?" Fury questioned.

"Because the last thing you want is a big green blotch on the side of Stark Tower. A showdown between the Hulk and the Winter Soldier is not on my 'things to see before I die' list." She gave back carelessly.

Bucky was entirely unscathed by this. Fury put his palm over his face and shook his head. "God help me with these people." He mumbled to himself.

X-X-X-X-X

"Why exactly do you think I'm going to start a fight with James?" Bruce inquired as Amy stuck the needle into his arm with expert precision.

"That's not what I said."

"Well then, what is it?"

"It's kind of hard to explain, really. Your personalities are strangely similar at present, I mean, how he is now is a lot like you. Situations like that are always tangible. He might not be as quick to pick up on things that annoy him as you are, but a lot of what he does reflects parts of you that you'd rather keep hidden. And my concern is that this triggers your… issue, to come to light. Even if it's subconscious, the brain is a funny thing Banner." Amy explained as she finished drawing blood.

"So basically you're saying that something like annoyance can trigger a subconscious reaction that would cause me to change?" Bruce asked for clarification.

"Essentially." She confirmed. "But it's not just that. The reaction you have, coming from a trained eye, seems to be less about rage and more about self-preservation. James is, even now, still a loose cannon to you guys. You know what he can do and allowing him to get so close is a personal risk for all of you. So I wouldn't be surprised if you are a little higher strung than usual."

"You're pretty perceptive." Bruce gave back. "I don't think anyone else has really noticed."

She smiled. "Fear and caution are limitations to perception."

Amy dripped a small amount of Bruce's blood onto a microscope slide and peered at it through the lenses. "Damn. It's not green." She mused.

"Sorry to disappoint." Bruce chuckled. He had to admit that he was thankful for her unperturbed manner of going about these things.

She crossed her arms over chest when she straightened back up, then scratched her head. "I'll have to run some more tests, for safety's sake, but from what I can see there is nothing too concerning just yet."

By the time Amy was done with her examination on Bruce she returned to the main floor to find Bucky deep in discussion with Natasha in pure Russian. He seemed happy to speak the language again, maybe she needed to remind him that she speaks it fluently as well. They were discussing Tony while he sat on the opposite side of the table staring at them. Once Tony realized that Amy was now standing behind him, he swivelled around on the chair and gave her a big, obviously fake, smile. "Can I play with his arm?" Tony asked like a naughty child asking to play with his dad's laptop.

"Sure. But I'd be careful if I were you, Stark. He bites." She answered as she walked over to the, now silent, ex-assassins.

"You really want me to sit around while Stark pokes around in this thing?" Bucky asked raising the offending bionic limb in front of his face. His sleeves were rolled up, so the metal gleamed in the morning sunlight. Amy closed her fingers over his mechanical hand and kissed the cold metal with a smile.

"It'll make him so happy." She said turning to Tony while still holding Bucky's hand. "Just look at him, Bee. He's just like a scalded puppy, sitting all the way over there, begging for some attention."

"You know, you are exactly like my father said you'd be." Tony smirked sarcastically.

"That's because you're just like your father." She gave back, earning a grunt from Tony.

X-X-X-X-X

As the sun was setting on the horizon Steve went in search of Bucky, only to find him lounging on the stairs of the elaborate terrace of Stark Tower. As he approached he realized that Bucky was smoking again, which he hadn't done since before he enlisted.

"And that?" Steve inquired as he sat down on the other end of the steps.

Bucky looked at the cigarette, half distracted. "Old habits die hard, I guess." He shrugged.

"You okay, though?"

He nodded. "A whole lot better than I should be."

"Can I ask you something?" Steve ventured.

"Ya just did." Bucky retorted. Statements like that would annoy most people, but to Steve it was music to his ears. The Asset shrunk back into the darkness a little more every day, bringing his friend back piece by piece.

"Smart ass."

"Punk."

Steve laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But seriously now. Why don't you ever talk about it?" The question was stated with care, but the Captain had learned that the best way to get an answer out of him was to just go ahead and ask the question. Questions rarely had repercussions worse than a shrug and a change of subject.

The expression on his friend's face turned questioning. "At first I just didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to remember. It sent me into a panic state, which I fucking hate. But now I just don't see the point. It's not gonna help anyone, or change anything, so why the fuck bring it up in the first place. Honestly, I'd rather people not get stuck on it, so I shut up about it." There was surprisingly little emotion behind the statement. It was more a scientific type of explanation than a confession really.

Steve nodded, that made sense to him, in a way. "Well, I still think it would help you to talk about it to someone."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Like a shrink?"

Steve exhaled. "No!" Then he added. "Unless that's your thing. But I meant someone like me, or Lou, or even Natasha."

"Why do you call her that?"

"Lou?"

Bucky nodded.

"Because it annoys her." Steve admitted with a defiant smirk.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. "Of course."

They decided then that it was time to head home, respectively.

X-X-X-X-X

"What is it about coffee?" Natasha's voice brought Bucky out his reverie as he sipped listlessly at his coffee.

"Huh?" He huffed.

"You drink way too much of it and it always seems to send you into this other world."

"It helps me remember the good stuff." The Soldier admitted. His head was particularly fuzzy today so he was weary of his surroundings and his interactions. This haze had been happening a lot lately, and he didn't like it one bit.

"You know, you're not wrong to be suspicious of SHIELD, even now." Natasha ventured tentatively.

"Is that a confession?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Maybe."

"What do you wanna know?" He vaguely picked up that she was trying to talk in circles, so he spared her the trouble.

She looked away, suddenly seeming uncertain of herself. "Nothing specific, I guess. You're just… interesting. You know that the maintenance methods that Chekov and Valinkoff used on you was later employed to reinforce Red Room training?"

"Maintenance methods?" He inquired.

"You know," Her smile reappeared for a brief moment, a sadder smile this time, one that spoke of her own secrets. "The rain, the snow… the sex." She all but whispered this, careful of who might hear. The last thing that Natasha wanted was to share this knowledge with anyone but him.

For a moment the fog cleared from his mind and he looked at her, searchingly, lost in a vortex of doubt. It had never even occurred to Bucky that someone else in his immediate vicinity would know about that. It was a well-known fact that the Russian brand of cognitive recalibration found its roots in Operant Conditioning, but few people really understood how severely the punishment versus reward principles were enforced to reinforce such extreme pathways. He hadn't even told Amy about it, although a part of him was convinced that she knew anyway.

"You were in the Red Room?" He asked, sounding more alarmed than he'd intended.

She nodded once. "It's hard to explain to people why you just can't bring yourself to hate them. The KGB, the Red Room, Unit 37. They're fucked up in their own special way, but for some reason they're not half as horrifying as the rest of the world. Despite everything they did to me, I can never quite drive the longing from my mind." She admitted mutely, her voice shaking almost inaudibly. Bucky figured she was looking for reassurance, reassurance that this didn't make her a monster. But how could he give her that, if he was fighting that same fight?

He hesitated for moment, struggling to place his thoughts back into a logical order. "Life is easier their way. They don't care and they do what they want. They know that there is no tomorrow, so they take without caution or consequence. All things in excess all the time because they can. Even the language is violent and indulgent. Life is easier that way. No need to apologize or stand on accord." His words hung in the air between them for a few moments. It was a confession that both of them had been too afraid to make in the past, one they had considered too cold and inhuman to be valid. But now that someone shared the view, it left both their minds wondering into different directions.

It seemed like a long time before either of them moved from their spots. Natasha was the first one to get up.

"Natasha," He said before she could leave. She stopped and turned back to him.

"I… Amy always said that it's the human disease, to want what you can't have. I think that's why it seems so… inviting. They make you think that all you want is rain, snow, and sex, so it's easier for them to always give you what you want, or what you think you want, if you do what they ask. It's not real." The realization was alien to him and didn't seem to fit into the holes in his mind, but it felt so right to say it, not matter how much it sucked. When he met Natasha's eyes again she was blinking back tears, but smiled at him anyway. A silent 'thank you' for a truth she could have never found by herself.

It was an odd sensation to the Winter Soldier; to help someone. He found he liked it. It awoke something inside of him that had been dormant. The side of him that suddenly was very sure of why he'd enlisted in the first place, and the side of him that was suddenly very sure that Steve's pining was a point of concern. He shook his head as if to try and dislodge this new volition, but it was there to stay.

X-X-X-X-X

Bucky was sprawled across the bed in the hotel room, listening to the faint sound of Amy in the shower. His mind was wondering away from him again, and this time he didn't do much to try and stop it. In truth, he had made a sort of peace with these slivers of memories his mind presented him with. They had become less intrusive and less violent since he had come into contact with people on a more regular basis. Who could have guessed?

He was so deep in thought by the time she was done that he did not notice her standing in the doorframe, staring at him. Her mind was reeling and her heart raced. There was something she needed to tell him, but for the first time in her life was not sure how to go about it. A large part of the old James was back, but PTSD, especially complex PTSD like this was infinitely complicated. Not to mention all the consequences that long term cognitive reinforcement and maintenance had. It was something she could not have told him initially; he would have withdrawn from her immediately, but he was making progress, he was connecting with Natasha and allowing Tony to play with his arm. He was reaching out to more people now, so he had to be told, before he found out from someone else. They had never kept things from each other, and she was not planning to start now.

"I need to tell you something."

He propped himself up on his elbows, focusing his attention on her as she stood there in the doorframe. She had her torn jeans on and a simple black tank-top, her hair was wet. For a moment the sight of her distracted him from the worry in her voice. Although they had shared a bed ever since the first night they'd been back together there had been no sex. At first he was too afraid to touch her, and then she had urged him to wait until he was sure he could trust himself fully, she did not want him to bury himself in physical sensation. Something about sublimation or something along those lines, he couldn't remember the word, but it made perfect sense at time. He hadn't been ready for it before, he'd have used it to distract himself from the pain. Now was a different story, the pain seemed far away as she stood there with the glow of the white bathroom light behind her.

"James." He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

"Yeah? You wanted to tell me something."

"I didn't tell you before, because I thought you would… see it differently." She began, choosing her words wisely. "But you're getting better now, and I think you're in a good enough place to make a conscious decision about it, a decision that comes from a place that can reason, whatever the outcome of your reasoning might be, it won't come from a place that is bitter." This made him much more attentive to her words, and it made his blood rush to his head. This wasn't like her at all.

"What is it?"

She pursed her lips. "I spent a lot of time in Russia during the 80's and 90's. Made some friends there who appealed to the sicker side of me. The side that is inquisitive beyond reasonable reservation. I had access to their research and I consulted on some of their projects. Specifically the Winter Soldier programme…."

For a moment his world went numb and words lost all meaning. She'd worked for Unit 37, willingly…

"Did you know?" He managed to ask.

"Of course not. Chekov wouldn't let me near any of it. He gave me the basics and told me it was a Hydra experiment. I knew nothing but the bare minimum I needed to give them the right cues to follow, the right rewards to give, perfected the schedule and the input methods." She gave back. "But I didn't ask either. I could have, but I didn't." She admitted.

"Why not?" The blank haze hung heavy in his mind, and in his soul.

"I had no reason to. There was no one left in the world for me to worry about. It was just something else I could learn."

A silence followed. He slowly sat up and let his head fall forward, running his hand through his hair. He didn't know what to think about it, what to make of it. Bucky had always known she was capable of darker things than the general population, it is that way with all scientists, but he'd never imagined that he would come to one of her pawns. He wanted to deny all of it, to tell her it didn't matter, that she had no reason to worry. But it did matter. In that moment, it mattered. She could have stopped this.

"I need a… I can't…" He stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. He realized that he was shaking. A part of him wanted to lunge out and strange her now, earnestly, for good measure.

"You need time. I know." She stated cautiously. "Should I leave, or do you want to take a walk?"

"I don't know." He answered, gritting his teeth. "Maybe it's better I stay here." He added a few moments later.

She nodded and left silently, leaving a whirlwind of emotion behind her. In spite of everything Bucky was grateful for her confounded fucking honesty.

For a long while he simply sat there, heart pounding a million miles a minute. He tried to keep his breathing steady at least, but he was failing. He strained the fingers on his left hand and before he knew what he was doing he leapt up and shattered the huge mirror in the corner of the fancy room. He stared aimlessly down at the shattered shards of glass. Shattered like his mind, fragmented like his memories, useless…

Images flashed before his mind's eye. Images of his time in Russia, doing Ivan Chekov's bidding. How he'd been treated there was infinitely better than how he'd been treated in Germany, but even that had taken time to materialize. They treated him like a child. Beat him half to death when he fucked up, but pumped him full of cocaine and vodka when he'd done well. And when he had pleased them, truly pleased them, they'd give him girls… As many as he wanted to do with whatever he pleased. He'd felt vaguely human then. After a few years working for the Russians they stopped sticking him in Cryo so often, he went under only once every 3 years, instead of once every 6 months. And more importantly, they didn't wipe him after every mission. Sometimes an entire year would go by without him having to go back to the chair. Beatings he could handle, even the Cryo wasn't always that daunting, but the chair… He felt a shiver of rage and fear wrack his body as the memories of that pain flashed through his tired mind. He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply and baling the metal hand into a fist.

She could have stopped all of this 30 fucking years ago, but instead she saw fit to help them. There were some things he couldn't reason around. He was pissed, and he had every fucking right to be.

The soldier stormed off, abandoning his concern for the well-being of the public. He needed air.

X-X-X-X-X

Amy decided that wondering around aimlessly wasn't going to do her any good so she headed straight for Stark Tower; she needed the distraction that was Tony Stark. She had expected a reaction like this, no matter how much it hurt her, she knew it was necessary and that she couldn't keep it from him. Still, it wasn't pleasant and it left her with something she wasn't used to, something she fucking hated; uncertainty.

Amy knew it would take time for him to process this. It was a low blow. But it needed out. If this did mean the end of her second chance with him, then so be it… although she wasn't sure herself if she could handle that. None the less, she refused to live a lie, refused to hide it. You face up to your actions, always. This was never negotiable to her, not when she decided to spent the rest of her life with a soldier and definitely not now.

Tony was still awake, which didn't surprise her. Pepper was in DC for business so he didn't sleep much.

"You told him, didn't you?" Was the first thing that came out of Tony's mouth when she stepped out of the elevator.

She nodded, suddenly fighting tears. Howard Stark, Tony's father, had been a dear friend to her, one of the few people in her life she was willing to let in, and after James and Steve died, Howard became her sole comfort. He carried her through the worst part of her life, and Tony was a lot like his father.

"What did he do? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Tony asked as he got up from where he was sitting.

"No, he didn't hurt me. But he's pissed. I knew he would be. But it still sucks."

"Are you okay? No wait, stupid question. Do you want me to kick his ass? I can totally kick his ass. Just say the word and I'll suite up" She interrupted him with a small laugh and a hand on his chest, "Calm down kid, I just need a distraction." She stated, wiping an idle tear from her cheek.

"Luckily for you that's exactly what I'm good at it!" Tony proclaimed before dragging her by the arm to the bar where he poured her a drink and pulled up two of his translucent screens.

"I've actually been meaning to show you something." He said as he clicked around on them, clearly looking for whatever it is he wanted to show her. Once he found what he was looking for he swivelled the screen so she could see what was on it.

"I got the results back for Banner's blood sample and since you weren't here, and I'm, well, me, I was impatient so I compared his sample with the records from Steve's blood, and look at that! The mutations are exactly the same." Tony exclaimed. He tended to become quite exacerbated when he was excited, he'd been that way all his life, even as a child telling her that he'd made a paper boat float down the stream. He didn't remember this, of course, he had been young the last time she visited the Starks, quite some time before they died.

She looked intently at the screens, her mind focused on work now, a switch she had all but mastered flipping. "I had expected as much, actually." She said as she inflated the sample referred to on Tony's screen as 'rage monster'.

"But how? Why? The radiation? The ricochet? The big green bad guy?" Tony stammered.

Amy chuckled. "It actually has less effect than you might think. He got the serum itself right, he buggered up the process though, but that isn't all that impressive actually. The Hulk is just a reaction of consequence, if he had been ready for the serum himself then the mistake in the process he made would have had no effect at all."

"All that gamma radiation would have done nothing?"

"Nope."

"Seriously, what is in that serum?"

"It's not that, Tony. The radiation exposure would take time to manifest, and by the time it starts to have an effect the serum would have protected him against it already." She explained, amused by Tony's level of interest.

"Then why the angry, scary, green son of a bitch?"

She laughed. "The serum is an actualizing agent. It facilitates a state of continuous and sustained self-actualization. If you administer it to someone who is not actualized then you are forcing someone into a physical and mental state that they are not ready to sustain. It's a defence mechanism. The Hulk is who he thinks he needs to be in order to be the best possible version of himself, or at least, it is the warped and twisted manifestation thereof, and it's affected by his mind-set at the time as well. He did it for the wrong reasons, and that translates into the final product. Never heard of the Red Skull?"

At that last bit Tony blinked and threw his hands up in the air. "Of course!" Then he looked at her with a slightly uncharacteristic glint of concern in his eyes. "So, is there anything you can do for him?"

"Me? No. This is something he has to do for himself. And he's not gonna like it. That I can promise you." Amy answered.

Tony did not press her any further. He changed the subject and started talking about a whole lot of nothing, the way that only a Stark could. He made her laugh and protest and explain. He made her elaborate on details about people she'd known years ago who interested him, places she had been that he wanted to see, and things of historical significance she had been involved in. She appreciated this banter more than she could ever say, it kept the nagging pain and guilt at arms-length away from her.

It was only once Banner showed up that they realized they'd been there all night.

Amy wasted no time in informing Bruce of her findings about his blood, after she had chased Tony off to bed.

"That doesn't make any sense." Bruce said thoughtfully, staring at the sample layouts on the screen. They had relocated to a lab, where Banner was more comfortable.

"It makes perfect sense. It just isn't what you want to hear." She ventured. Amy was far less concerned about angering him than other people were.

"Then how am I supposed to get rid of him?" Banner demanded, visibly trying to keep himself calm.

"Well, in truth, it's easier said than done. It's purely psychological. And even if you get it right then he will never really go away, you'll just be able to have full control, all the time, even during an episode when you choose to bring one on."

"How is that possible?" Bruce asked, now more interested in what she had to say.

"You can still get to that point where you are actualized. But in order to do that you need to be at complete peace, with all of you. Even him." She answered.

Bruce laughed, bitterly. "You have such a positive outlook on life." He stated sarcastically.

Usually she'd find this funny, but today was a little difficult for her. "Hence my level of personal and professional success in this particular area you braved so blindly, doctor Banner. In fact, one would reckon I'd be a little peeved that you decided to try and copy my procedures for your own personal gain, but thankfully, as you so sardonically pointed out, I have a positive outlook on life, so live and let live."

At that she left him to do with the information what he pleased. In the end it did nothing to her whether he used it to his advantage or not, at least in this her hands were clean.

After her encounter with Banner, Amy decided that it was best to go do something productive while she bought time for James to process the devastation she had wracked on him the previous night. She wasn't sure whether it was a good thing for her to go home, so she went down to the VA to find Sam, maybe she could help out there for the day.

X-X-X-X-X

Bucky spent the night wondering about aimlessly, avoiding people as far as possible, trying to wage the war in his head in silence. As the hours dragged on and the sun began to rise over the ocean he found himself standing with his arms resting on the railing of the peer, where he'd found her waiting for him that first day. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here or how long he'd been standing here. The realization of where he was and why he was there began to turn his mood from blind anger to tired despair. He sighed heavily and rested his head on his folded arms.

Amy was the one thing in his life that had never hurt him. She was everything, always had been, and he couldn't believe that she would do something like this. Now that his anger was melting away he could think a little more clearly, but the heaviness in his heart weighed him down.

He loved her, fiercely. He knew this. But this hurt. They had never allowed their love to hurt them. It was supposed to make them stronger, better. Not the puppy-dog highschool love they saw in their friends, the ones that burned bright only to wither and die, turning sour. Theirs was supposed to be different. And now this…

He forced the pleasant memories of her aside and tried to remember Russia, his handlers, the things they did to him. He shivered as the images flashed before his mind's eye. And still, he found himself thinking, if he ever had to go back to being the Winter Soldier and he had to choose his handlers, he would go with the Russians, without a doubt. Germany was bad, it was terrible and he was nothing more than an experiment, a subject to them, but Pierce was the worst. Pierce was a monster. He had him wiped almost once a month and stuck in Cryo sometimes 12 times in one year. He hurt him more and took more from him the few short years he'd been the Soldier's handler than Germany and Russia combined.

The Russians might have treated him like a child, but at least he was human, as human to them as the rest of the world was. They're a hard and unforgiving people, but they are honest and they helped him a lot as well.

As the warmth of the rising sun settled on his body his heart began to defrost, ever so slowly as small realizations began to dawn on him.

It was probably better in Russia because she was pulling some strings in how he was handled. His time in Russia probably helped him because she was the only one who knew what she was doing and Chekov listened to her. The fewer wipes and less Cryo was possible because she was so good at coaching them to do the maintenance and the reinforcement in a way that it wasn't necessary for them to start over or preserve pathways so violently anymore. And what reason did she have to care at the time? Everyone she loved was gone, he was gone. He had left her, he'd gone to war and died.

He sighed heavily as tears spilled from his eyes, defeated. Bucky couldn't blame her for this. He couldn't be angry at her for this. As desperately as he wanted to blame someone and to be angry at someone, it couldn't be her. He loved her too much, he needed her, he wanted her. All of her, the bad parts too, the broken parts, parts that he had broken. And she wanted him too. That's why she didn't lie. She told him because she loves him and respects him. She told him because she loves all of him, even the bad and broken parts.

He lifted his face to the rising sun and sobbed. Crying for the first time in 72 years.

Once the deep sorrow had leaked out of his soul he was left with a strange sort of peace and he felt more alive than ever. He'd forgiven Amaryne, but more importantly, he had forgiven himself…

X-X-X-X-X

Amy hadn't been at the VA for long before Sam came to tell her that Tony had been looking for her. When she called Stark she was more than a little surprised to hear that James had called there looking for her. He told Tony he was waiting for her back at the hotel room.

To say she was nervous was an understatement.

When she opened the door to the hotel room she found him standing by the window, staring out across the city, silent as the grave. A small part of her consciousness noted the fact that the mirror in the corner had vanished and the room had been valet cleaned, she figured he hadn't been here all night after all.

He said nothing as he turned around and came to stand in front of her. He said nothing as he put his metal hand under her chin and brought her face up to kiss her. Gently at first, but then deeper, until he was almost breathless. He said nothing as he lifted her shirt over her head. He said nothing when she asked him if he was sure this was what he wanted, he only kissed her again.

He lowered her onto the bed and they sealed their promise to each other, once again, in a haze of sweat and release. Release from the bonds that bound them to their past. Release from the pain they had, unwillingly, inflicted on each other.

It was only after the haze had begun to abate from them that he spoke for the first time. And when he spoke she realized that there was truly very little left of the Winter Soldier in the man in whose arms she found herself.

"I love you."

X-X-X-X-X

A few weeks passed where they didn't do much but talk. They switched their phones off and stayed in the hotel room. There was a lot of talk, a lot of laughter, some tears, and not a small amount of sex. They had a lot of time to catch up on.

Eventually though, they knew they would have to immerge and face the music.

Bruce Banner was still pissed at Amy, so he kept his distance at best. Steve picked up on the change in his friends before anyone else did and he was as happy as a kid in a candy store to say the least. Natasha and Bucky still had their heated Russian discussions, most of them concerning Tony or Fury.

Fury had given up on getting answers by now, and the current political situation was so suspiciously calm that they hadn't been called on a mission in almost 3 months.

One day it just so happened that they got to telling war stories. Steve obviously had quite a few of these. Natasha had a share of her own, and so did Barton. Amy did her fair share of talking as she had seen the most for the longest. These war stories weren't of the heavy kind that weighed them down, but rather the kind that left them laughing. It surprised most of the when even Bucky added his two cents, mostly about the Commando's and one particularly hilarious situation he'd come face to face with Russia, involving his handler and a transvestite…

Sam mostly listened, but everyone was far too interested in the Falcon to allow him to say nothing. His experience was more recent so it shed some light on the current state of affairs.

The night went on for quite some time before people started heading home. Amy and James, along with Sam were the last remaining aside from Tony and Pepper, who lived in Stark Tower permanently. While Amy was helping Pepper carry glasses and bottles back to the bar where the cleaning crew would get to them tomorrow Tony was seeing Steve out. Bucky stood by the door, swigging on a beer, looking at the girls chatting and laughing, the sense of peace he'd found after his breakdown had not left him yet. Sam appeared next to him, shaking his head at Amy who saw fit to twirl around the cold marble floor with bare feet.

"Doesn't she ever get cold?" He asked Bucky.

"She likes the cold. Says it reminds her she's still alive." Bucky noted.

"Gotta be some irony in that." Sam gave back.

Bucky huffed, "And don't think she hasn't pointed it out yet."

There was a few moments of calm silence before Sam spoke again, more hesitantly this time.

"I don't know how you sleep man. I mean, I haven't seen half the shit you've seen, but I can't sleep worth a damn."

Bucky figured that Sam had his own issues, but he didn't think it was this bad. Maybe he was luckier than he thought.

"I didn't, at first."

"What changed?" Sam asked.

"Not sure. I guess I did. I stopped trying to kid myself into believing it was a fight I had to fight alone. I mean, no one will ever really get it, but a lot of people are trying to get it. And that makes more of a difference than I ever thought possible." Bucky ventured. He had never put it into words like that before.

"Guess you've got a point." Sam stated. "But it's not just that. The nightmares are one thing, but it's stupid shit too. Like my bed. I got so used to sleeping in the rough that when I get home the damn bed feels like a marshmallow, like I'm gonna fall right through it. And I can't stand that feeling, like I'm falling."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, I get that too." He admitted, then he smiled to himself as Amy threw herself at Tony when he immerged from the lift, catching him off guard and making him duck as if she was gonna clock him in the face. "But it's not so bad when you've got someone to hold on to."

X-X-X-X-X

When they got back to the hotel room that night they didn't go straight to sleep, for a while they just lay there, entwined in each other. Bucky was lulling between sleep and wake as Amy played with her own hair, something she always fervently denied doing.

"Babe." He croaked.

"Hmm?" She hummed as she turned her head to look at him.

"Will you cut my hair tomorrow?" He asked.

When she didn't answer he opened one eye to find her grinning at him from ear to ear.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And so the locks of dark hair that partially marked him as the Winter Soldier were cut off the next morning to reveal a pleasantly familiar face the next time he looked in the mirror. Bucky Barnes was back to stay.

X-X-X-X-X