Barnes had set up alerts for the communities nearest the coordinates they'd provided to Steve, hoping that he'd be smart enough to take his team with him on any sorties. Reports of warehouse fires, unexplained explosions, and known terrorist suspects trussed up like turkeys and delivered to the doorstep of local law enforcement, were music to their ears.
Sounds like Stevie's keeping himself and his pals busy...
"We haven't exactly been living the life of Riley, ourselves." They'd wreaked some havoc as well, going as far afield as Montana. James had groused about travelling to the ass end of nowhere in the middle of the winter, but it had been worth the trip, as they'd destroyed what they hoped was HYDRA's main server farm. They were both glad to get back to the city they considered home just in time for spring.
But then there was the attack on Avengers Tower... followed by a rampage in Johannesburg... chaos in Seoul... and finally Sokovia. The live coverage was unbearable to watch unfold, and the news of the aftermath was even worse. Barnes had an uneasy feeling that he'd been in that castle, during his time as the Soldier, while James claimed to have blocked most of that out. Steve had made it out alive, but they could tell within moments of the only interview he had agreed to appear in, that the experience had left him a different man. The end of the interview took them both by surprise.
"Do you have any last words before we go, Captain Rogers?"
"Yes. This is for Bucky. Check the Emerald City post - you have some mail waiting."
Son of a bitch... I can't believe he remembered that. Or that I do, for that matter.
James explained that one summer, he and Steve read a book about espionage during the Great War. It had described how a spy ring left messages for each other in books at a local bookstore. They had done the same, using their favorite books at the local library.
"So - where do we start looking?"
The Pacific Carnegie Library was still where it had always been, just off of Fourth Avenue. And sure enough, tucked into the middle of Tik-Tok of Oz was an envelope, labeled "For Bucky".
"Buck -
I got your letter - thanks for letting me know you're okay. We've been hitting some of the sites on your list - thanks for that too. Sam says you're welcome, and you owe him a new car. And a a parachute.
I wish I understood what you were going through - and I wish I could help. You know I'll always be there for you to the end of the line.
I'm leaving the city - we've got a new site upstate. If you want to contact me, I've got a trusted friend checking in where you found this on a regular basis ... or you can just call me when you're ready to come home.
I miss you too, jerk.
Steve."
There was a phone number at the end of the letter - Barnes added it to his contact list, while James memorized it. This was followed by a very spirited discussion between the two of them, followed by several reconnaissance missions over the next several months. James had insisted in leaving Steve a reply in the meanwhile. Gossip and news blogs gave them a way to check in on him, but not vice versa. It wasn't much, but they hoped it would tide him over.
"Steve -
Message received, loud and clear. I'm working on it. Promise.
Yours,
Bucky"
They finally found a likely location, and while Barnes thought the plan was damned risky, James insisted.
"At least wait until it warms up a little - I don't want to freeze my ass while we're waiting."
Steve wouldn't make us wait long.
"He might not have a choice."
"Hey, Cap..." Steve knew Sam well enough by this time to recognize the note of warning in his otherwise calm voice. Sam had been suspicious from the moment Steve had gotten a text from an unknown number that simply had a set of coordinates, followed by "The stupid is ready to come home."
Steve stalked through the abandoned machine shop towards Sam's voice. Turning the corner, he saw Bucky slumped next to a large piece of equipment, his metal arm held captive.
"Buck." He looked up with a determined gaze. "Do you remember me?"
"Your mom's name is Sarah. You used to wear newspaper in your shoes." The quietly triumphant smile on Bucky's face made the past seventy years fade away to nothing, if for only a moment.
Steve looked for the control panel on the machine, but it had been destroyed by whoever had left Bucky here to suffer. When he picked up a metal pipe, Bucky shook his head.
"No... don't let me out. Gotta destroy the arm. You're not safe until it's dead."
"What do you mean, Buck?" Steve said gently, hunkering down to meet his eyes. He reached out to brush the long hair from his face, only to have his friend push his hand away.
"Stevie, the Soldier's still after you. We're fighting him, and he's weakening, but he can do a hell of a lot of damage with that arm. Don't let me outta here til it's disabled or destroyed." His voice was urgent and his eyes burned. Steve wasn't sure what to think - had Bucky done this to himself? He knew he had no idea what toll the brainwashing and electroshock procedures had taken on his friend, but this seemed an extreme action to take. And what had Bucky meant by "we're fighting him"?
Sam had caught the end of the conversation. "Okay - how do we disable it?"
Bucky shook his head. "Don't know... wait." He closed his eyes as if in concentration. "There's something back behind... on the shoulder blade. Once or twice, they did something and it turned the whole thing off. Hurt like hell..." He looked up at Steve. "I'm sorry... that's all I got."
Sam stood and stepped away, gesturing for Steve to follow.
"This would have been a lot easier a week ago." Steve couldn't argue. A lot had happened over the past seven days. Bucky's message could hardly have come at a worse time, but Steve would face the hounds of hell and worse for the chance to bring him home.
"If we call Tony..."
"Nah, he won't believe us." Sam was right. Steve had shown Tony the letter, and the footage; but he'd thought it was just some sort of HYDRA trap; and that one close call in Maine just further convinced him.
"Even if he did... "
"Who knows if the accords would let him help." What had started with the fall of SHIELD the previous year had only intensified with President Ellis' reveal of the "alien threat" and the Advanced Threat Containment Unit. The Accords were designed to help protect the American people, but so far had only succeeded in drawing a line in the sand. Tony had made his position clear; as had Steve. He was glad to have Sam on his side.
"We're on our own."
"Maybe not." After a moment, Sam continued. "I know a guy."
It was getting difficult to concentrate. Barnes had stopped the press right at the point of crushing the arm, and the biofeedback system registered the pressure as a persistent, throbbing ache. He'd smashed the control panel before either of them could reconsider their plan.
The Soldier wasn't happy either. He'd showed up not long after Steve walked into the room. James had insisted they leave all their knives behind; although it made Barnes feel naked to be unarmed. It was a wise decision, as the Soldier had reached for a blade as soon as Steve turned his back.
Asshole. We gotta get rid of this guy. And soon.
They watched Steve in whispered conference with his flying pal... Sam Wilson, that was his name. James felt a brief stab of jealousy, immediately regretting it. Of course Steve had made friends since he'd been brought back, rescued from the ice. This guy... Wilson... he'd had Steve's back there on the helicarrier. So he'd have to deal with the envy, knowing his friend had only ever chosen a precious few worth his time and trust.
Steve had found a folding chair somewhere; he sat, their knees nearly touching, and passed over a bottle of water. Barnes took a few slow sips. "Sam knows someone he thinks can help - he's going to make a few calls, What happened, after you pulled me out of the Potomac?"
"Went to ground - found a safe house and fixed myself up. Tried to go back to base, but it was compromised. Same with the Mission Head's house."
"Mission Head... do you mean Alexander Pierce, Bucky?"
He shrugged. "Didn't know his name. Wasn't something the Soldier needed." He paused, remembering the briefing in the Mission Head's kitchen. "He shot her for no reason, Steve." That image had stayed with him; it was his first clue that maybe he wasn't on the right side after all, no matter what his handlers had said. He dropped his head, unable to look Steve in the eye. "He sent me to find you. To kill you. And I damn near did."
"But you didn't. Then what, Bucky?"
"Went to the museum and saw your exhibit. Saw... us, the Commandos. Started remembering stuff." That brought a smile, small and sad though it was.
"What else do you remember?"
"You were scrawny, and sick a lot. But stubborn, goddamned stubborn. You hated bullies and never stood down from a fight. I remember... sitting in the bleachers at a Dodgers game. Doing odd jobs at the corner grocery for apples. Sitting on the fire escape, drinking beer on a summer night."
"What else, Buck? How about Peggy, Peggy Carter?
Sharp as hell, a terror on the firing range and an absolute knockout in that red dress.
"English gal, with the SSR? I remember a little. She was a peach, but never even gave me the time of day - she was sweet on you. Didja finally try your luck with her, Stevie?."
"Not really. I waited too long." A distant look on his face, he went to reach for something in his left front pocket.
Steve kept her picture in his compass... always carried it in that pocket.
But instead he pulled out his phone and read something on the screen. "It's Sam. Good news, the guy - Lang's his name - agreed to help. Bad news, he can't get here until tomorrow morning at the earliest." His phone buzzed with a second message. "Sam went to get some supplies - looks like we're sleeping rough tonight. "
"You and Wilson don't have to stay - I'll be alright." It didn't seem right to ask anything more from them. The fact that they'd come for him at all was a miracle. Barnes gestured toward the machine. "It's not like I'm going anywhere." That actually got a bit of a laugh from Steve.
"Not a chance, jerk. Not letting you out of my sight again, even if you are pinned down at the moment."
They heard a car pull up, just outside the building. Steve sprang to his feet and was running for his shield, while the Soldier searched for anything within reach to use as a weapon.
"It's just me, guys... sorry - shoulda let you know I was coming. My bad." Wilson stepped into the room, arms laden with bags. "There's more stuff out in the car."
"Sam - you almost got a shield right between the eyes. And your timing stinks on ice." Steve grumbled, but James and Barnes were both too focused on getting the Soldier back in line to pay much attention to anything else for several minutes.
Huh - kinda felt like if the Soldier was gonna fight alongside Steve, not against him. Maybe he's starting to come around, too.
In the meanwhile, Wilson had pulled together a makeshift table and were setting out containers of food. "Wasn't sure what you liked, Barnes, so I got a bunch of simple stuff to share - egg drop soup, chicken fried rice and beef and broccoli."
"Soup. Please." The throb of the arm and the adrenalin rush had left them feeling overwhelmed, and conversation was a struggle. Barnes held the container close to his chest, enjoying its warmth while sipping it slowly. Watching the two men eat and listening to their easy banter - just for a moment, he was with the Commandos again, celebrating after a successful raid. James realized this was perhaps the first memory from the war that he actually didn't mind remembering.
"Buck, you need more than that. Here." Steve held out a chunk of meat between chopsticks. He leaned forward and took a bite... not bad. Steve then moved closer and proceeded to share the rest of his meal. Barnes was vaguely embarrassed at first, until James reminded him how often they'd helped Steve with a bowl of soup or oatmeal when he was feeling poorly.
Wilson was talking about how he'd found out about this Lang character. James had a feeling they weren't hearing the entire story, but secrets and surprises were apparently nothing new for any of them nowadays.
"Ok - I get that the master's degree in electrical engineering is gonna help us, but you said he's got other special skills... like what?" He recognized the note of irritation in Steve's voice.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Rogers. Wait and see."
"And how do we know we can trust him?"
"Fair question, but from what I've heard, he's our kinda man. Does what's right, even if it's not exactly legal." Finished with his meal, Wilson rose easily to his feet. "I'm gonna start setting up camp."
Wilson had planned well - a propane heater and gas lantern, sleeping bags and air mattresses. Steve and Wilson scrounged several crates and cardboard boxes to assemble a rough semi-reclining platform next to the machine for him, topped with a partially-inflated air mattress.
I've slept worse places. At least this is dry and doesn't smell like a cow pasture.
Barnes thought the comment was worth repeating to a larger audience, and they seemed to appreciate both the humor and his return to the conversation, as he hadn't spoken a word since asking for the soup. However, once the sun set, Wilson seemed on edge again. He waved Steve over for another conference. While he couldn't catch what he said, Steve's reply was loud and clear.
"Bucky wouldn't lead us into a trap! You want someone to stand guard? Fine, I'll take first watch." Steve grabbed his jacket and shield and stalked out of the building.
Wilson, looking sheepish, came back over to the circle lit by the lantern. "All I said was maybe we need to keep an eye out for the dudes we've been after for the better part of the last year. I didn't mean it the way he took it. I'm sorry. " He sighed, kicking at a bit of trash. "I admit, I wasn't sure this trip was going to be worth it - no offense. But when Rogers puts his mind to something, you just can't stop him. He's a big old mountain of stubborn."
"Imagine all that attitude in a package half the size." Barnes paused, realizing this was the first time he'd spoken directly to Wilson since they'd officially met. "And for the record, this place has nothing to do with HYDRA." He stumbled a bit over the last word.
Wilson nodded. "Good to know. So - how long have you been pulling Rogers' ass out of the fire?"
"Since practically forever. He and his ma lived down the street. Made him move in with me when she died. How about you?"
"He was running rings around me out at the National Mall and stopped for a chat. I told him I worked at the VA as a counselor, and he swung by. Next thing I know, he and Romanov - the redhead from the overpass, remember her?"
"Yeah... she okay?" She had been a threat, an obstacle to completing the mission, so the Soldier had shot her. But James had done what he could to make sure it wasn't a kill shot.
I never hit a lady - and I wasn't happy about shooting one, either - tried to make my feelings known. Wish I'd had that power on other missions.
"Yeah - you just winged her. She healed up fine. Anyway, the two of them show up at my front door on the run. That's pretty much when the shit hit the fan."
"And you stuck around through the shit storm." He hadn't realized the depth of Wilson's loyalty to a man he hardly knew.
"Hell yeah - he's Captain freaking America. And he needed someone watching his six... but I guess you got that covered now."
Barnes gestured to his captive arm. "Not quite ... and maybe not for awhile. Besides, we're talking Steve here - plenty of stupid to go around."
Wilson laughed. "Ain't that the truth!" He then sobered. "Finding out you were still around changed him, Barnes. Tore him up when he read what they'd done to you."
Wait, what? No... Steve can't find out what they did - how much blood is on my hands...
"What do you mean, Wilson?" Barnes spoke slowly, hiding his rising panic.
"Romanov has Russian connections. She was able to scare up some files on the Winter Soldier project. She was trying to help. Sounds like you think otherwise."
"Yeah - not stuff he needed to know."
Ain't that a goddamned understatement.
Barnes felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, and Wilson must have sensed it, as he stretched and yawned theatrically. "Well, I'm beat. Can I get you anything before I turn in, Barnes?"
"I'm good, thanks." He pulled the sleeping bag up around his shoulders - zipping it up had felt too restrictive, so it was laid out flat instead.
We are so far from good, Wilson... you have no idea.