This is a very long chapter, but I didn't want to split it into two, mainly because I think it would have been obvious where the story was heading, but also because you would've got a short chapter that was all heartbreak.
Thanks to bewilderebeest and magic-in-us on Tumblr for their help with crafting a suitable Russian phrase.
Darcy's out of bed, pulling clothing on and grabbing her glasses, without really deciding to move. She's not in full control of her body, watching it happen from the back of her own head, the adrenaline taking control. Meanwhile, Nat keeps talking.
"It was just an ordinary mission, nothing to do with Rumlow. We thought it was an old Hydra archive, one an informant conveniently gave up a few days ago. Bucky was covering us, until there was a small explosion, a distraction, so we didn't notice until there was static coming from his comms link. When Sam went up to get a look, he was gone. We ran the footage and it looks like Rumlow went up there personally and cornered him—used some trigger word we didn't know about—he just crashed."
"Who was Bucky's handler?" Darcy asks as they leave her quarters, power walking in the direction of the ops room.
"It doesn't matter, it wasn't their fault. They were trying to cover three people at once, and two of these people were in the middle of the explosion."
She's right, but Nat's wise in not passing on their name to Darcy, because she's ready to launch a world of pain in someone's direction. If it can't be Rumlow or any of the shitstains from Hydra, she will find another target.
"Steve's pissed you were pulled from missions and he's blaming Maria."
Darcy shakes her head. She recognizes the parallel Nat is probably trying to point out to her. "She was right to do it. Besides—does he not know?" Surely if he was aware of what had happened between her and Bucky, he wouldn't still expect her to act as his handler.
She doesn't ask Nat if she knew. It would be wasting her breath.
"He knew something was up with Bucky, but didn't know it was related to you."
"Do you—" Her steps falter. "Do you think he wasn't as careful as he could have been?" It's a horrific thought, that he might have been so distracted by his personal life that it gave Rumlow a window of opportunity. That somehow she might be partially responsible for this.
"I think Rumlow lured us there on purpose and had this whole thing planned for a long time," Nat says firmly. "No one is responsible for this but him."
They've reached the ops room, which is in chaos, and Nat ushers Darcy over to the small cluster of people near the Mission Control desk. Maria, Sam, and Steve are waiting beside it, debating something. They greet her with varying degrees of exhaustion, and repeat what Nat's already told her, fleshing out some of the details.
She even gets to watch the footage, and listen to playback of Bucky's audio feed, like this week isn't already the worst one she's ever lived through.
They'd sent one of the tiny floating cameras from the bank vault up to monitor him, just in case. Gold star to the handler for making sure they had some visual on him. Not that Darcy wants to see it unfold, and yet she can't turn away. It hurts to see him, the first time since he left her quarters the other day, especially since she's still drawn to him. The way he moves across the rooftop—fluid, powerful, in control—makes her chest tight.
Nothing happens for long minutes, not until there's a blast of light. The explosion, happening off camera, though Bucky's attention is all on it. He's tense, utterly still.
The prevailing theory is that the noise from the blast must have covered Rumlow's approach. He moves heavily but Bucky doesn't react until he's right behind him on the rooftop. He says something—something which isn't picked up—and Bucky slumps like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
"If Rumlow wasn't wearing the mask, I'd be able to lipread what he said," Nat says, "but with it…"
"I don't get it," Darcy replies. "Why can't we hear the words? I know the camera doesn't have a mic, but Bucky's headset should have picked it up."
They turn the footage on again, syncing the audio with it, rather than running them separately. This time, it's obvious the audio file cuts short during the explosion, descending into crackling.
"It doesn't make sense," says Steve. "No one else's did that and we were right in the middle of it."
"I don't think it's that simple." Nat's scrutinizing the footage of Rumlow approaching Bucky. "There is no way Rumlow should have got that close, but Bucky doesn't even blink."
"You think they were running interference?" Darcy asks.
"They could have intercepted the signal and replaced it with their own. That was what the explosion was distracting us all from."
"Alright, I'll get IT on it," says Maria. "See if they can prove that theory, and either trace the new signal or find our lost audio."
"Is that going to help get him back?" Steve asks.
"It's a lead, and we should be as thorough as we can be," Maria replies.
She catches Darcy up on what they've already done, and what the agents in the ops room are currently laboring over. They've scoured surveillance footage until they located Rumlow and henchmen carrying Bucky away to a waiting SUV, then tracked that through the streets until it was abandoned at a helicopter launch pad. The helicopter only took them to an airstrip outside the city limits, and now they're scrutinizing all flights which left it since. They've also had a team out to search the airstrip.
"We're following up all of the flight plans—there weren't many at that time of night—to check they're legitimate, as well as getting airspace radar records to see if there were any unrecorded flights."
"What about if they didn't leave by air?" Darcy asks.
"Good question." Maria turns to a sleepy-looking Sarah. "We need to check the footage of all vehicles leaving that airstrip. I need to know when, and I need to know where they went."
Sarah nods and switches tasks.
There's nothing more Darcy can do, so she logs and joins in scouring surveillance footage. It's thankless toil, but it someone has to do it, and that won't be Steve or any of the Avengers. They're going to go kicking down doors.
At some point she sleeps: not in her own bed, but curled up on a sofa with Nat in the corner of the ops room. She's too exhausted to dream.
The following day passes in a haze of caffeine and grainy images. She listens to leads being discounted around her: the flights out were not run by Hydra, the vehicles that left the airstrip didn't go anywhere special. They've sent people out to interrogate the people on those flights and in those vehicles, they've stripped down the airplanes looking for evidence and come up empty-handed. Darcy has stared at camera recordings of those planes landing and emptying out until her eyeballs refused to function anymore.
She sleeps that night in her own bed, but this time she dreams. Her head plays a loop of Bucky slumping, like someone had ripped the life from him, and then him in that awful contraption, screaming for them to let him go. She's not much rested when she returns to the ops room in the morning.
It takes three days for IT to confirm that their theory about the audio was correct. Actually, it takes three days for Tony Stark to do it, and while he can't get them a recording of what was being fed to Bucky through his earpiece, he can get them the end of the actual audio from the rooftop. Rumlow's voice is muffled by the mask, but it's enough for Nat to recognize the words he's speaking.
"Отбой, сержант," she repeats. "Basically, 'Light's out, Sergeant'."
"They probably repeated it to him on a loop in his earpiece," Maria theorizes, "but as his conditioning had degraded so much, it only dropped him in person."
"At least we can get it wiped from his programming when we get him back," Steve proclaims. Beyond that, it doesn't help them. The signal which transmitted directly to Bucky was done locally, probably from the SUV, and it's a dead end. Another one.
Nat can't stand to be confined to the facility. She and Steve go out in the field, each following separate paths. Nat is stalking Hydra through the shadows, while Steve is smashing his way through their known bases and personnel.
The hours blend together so much that Darcy doesn't realize a week has almost passed until Maria sends her home—she's worked too many hours and needs to take a day's break. Darcy doesn't know what to do with the free time. She notices how quiet it is when she shuts the door to her quarters, but there's no point going to the Avenger's common room—no one will be there. Instead, she curls up on her sofa and channel surfs until the TV turns blurry. It's not tiredness, it's tears.
Friday must summon Jane, because suddenly she's there, rocking Darcy in her arms.
"It'll be okay," she soothes, and Darcy clings to the lie, because no matter what happens—whether they get him back or not—she can't see how it will be.
Darcy wishes she could say her breakdown provides clarity and gets it out of her system. Instead, she's still running on fumes, repulsed by food despite the constant ache in her belly—an ache which isn't hunger. Nightmares still plague her sleep. Nothing will get better until they find Bucky, not when they know what Rumlow will be doing to him.
Her one small crumb of comfort is that they won't kill him. That's too simple, a clean blow against Steve. Taking back their asset and using him against the Avengers is the perfect way to make Steve suffer, to make it linger.
In her frustration at how easily they disappeared, Darcy goes back to the very beginning, to the events of that night. She personally follows the SUV out of the city on the footage, goes over the helicopter logs and double checks that it's definitely the same one which landed at that airstrip. She also makes sure the flight time couldn't have allowed any deviation to another landing place. There are holes in the surveillance footage from the airstrip, ones Hydra exploited, so she doesn't see who exits the helicopter or where they go afterward. For all she knows, they parachuted out and left the pilot to make his own way out of there.
She pulls up a map of an area around the airstrip, making sure there aren't any other roads they missed—unlikely, she knows, but she has to check—or if they could even have left in an off-road vehicle. Unlikely, because it's a thickly wooded area. Satellite view shows a few gray rectangles in a sea of green, with a blue line cutting through nearby.
"Maria," she calls, "did we ever check the waterways?"
There's a flurry of activity as it turns out the river is passable by boat and actually carries a lot of traffic. It gives them a probable route, but with no footage on the river and no record of who's traveled on it, it doesn't narrow things down much.
"I think it might do," says Nat when they pass the knowledge on. "Bucky wouldn't have stayed down long, and when he woke it was going to be harder to get him back down. Plus we know Rumlow can't travel for too long without needing oxygen. Their destination had to be relatively close. Even if they didn't stay long, it will give us a lead."
Teams are sent out to search the length of the river, which feels like an impossible task to Darcy. Even if they get a clue to an onward location, it will probably only lead to another clue and another destination. They'll be chasing their tails until Bucky re-emerges as their weapon.
Will he even remember her?
The thought hits her hard, and this is her moment of clarity. Of course he won't remember her. This, this is the punchline of the universe's grand joke: she cannot be Bucky's soulmate because he is destined not to know who she is.
Maria doesn't ask questions when Darcy submits her request for a transfer to Manhattan, but signs the paperwork. It's probably the dark rings under her eyes that convince Maria to get Darcy out of direct ops. She's also kind enough to agree to let her stay until Bucky's home, but only if that's within the next month. Otherwise, she's gone, only peripherally involved in the mission and kept up to date on its progress.
She's glad Steve isn't around to hear about her decision.
It's three weeks since Bucky was taken, and her health is suffering for it. Pepper has ruled that she can only work five days out of seven, a maximum of fifty hours within those five days, and she must see a counselor to remain on active duty. It takes an intervention from Thor to stop Darcy being transferred to Manhattan immediately, but even with that Darcy knows it won't be long until she shatters and has to go.
She's following another lead, after remembering what led them to the bank vault in D.C.: electricity usage. Both Rumlow's treatment and the equipment required to program Bucky need a lot of it, so maybe if she looks for spikes in places where they shouldn't be, she'll find something. There are a surprising number of 'empty' warehouses along the river's edge which turn out to be drug operations when Steve bulldozes his way into them. He's being reckless, in his own way, reluctant to wait for back-up, even if Maria keeps reminding him that he's not actually bullet-proof.
It's the approach he takes with Nat's newest potential lead. She's been gathering gossip from the underworld—sometimes with stealth, sometimes with fear and pain—and it's led her to a crumbling industrial unit a mile from the river bank in a city downstream. There's a telltale surge in power usage which gets Darcy's hopes up even when she knows she should crush them.
"It was Hydra, but we already cleaned it out," Nat says as she calls it into mission control. "I remember coming here."
"Why would they go back?" Darcy wonders.
"Could be a double bluff," Nat suggests. Steve doesn't care. He overrides Maria and insists on taking a small team in. Since Nat's already on the ground, she agrees to be part of it, a moderating edge if she can be.
They send the tiny cameras in so the ops team can follow events, but the first person in is Nat. She's convinced Steve that an element of surprise is a better approach than a full-frontal assault.
Darcy watches her drop from the ceiling and land on Rumlow's shoulders. He tosses her away, but not before her Widow's Bites have fried the mask. She's up and running before anyone can take aim at her, dodging behind the crates lining the space, and then they're distracted by the arrival of Steve and the cavalry.
Bucky's in the middle of all this, strapped to the chair, topless and weaponless. He's Nat's destination. By frying Rumlow's mask, she's reduced his capacity to issue commands and knock Bucky out again. Instead, she emerges from behind the chair to tear loose the straps keeping Bucky in place, careful to stay out of reach of his metal arm.
He's agitated by the commotion, on his feet as soon as he realizes he's free, and immediately goes for Nat. He's like a wild animal, but a wild animal who knows how to match her blow for blow. She aims a kick for his head, misses, and is tossed onto her back. Darcy winces but if Nat's winded she doesn't show it, springing back to her feet from her prone position and keeping out of his reach.
Steve's shield goes whipping past him and he staggers, blinking like he's taken a head blow. Nat takes the opportunity to sprint away, taking the fight to one of the Hydra goons instead. He's down within seconds, her Bites eating through the men with ease. Already their number has been reduced, the attack apparently coming as a surprise, but some of them just won't stay down.
Bucky's stalking through the carnage without a care for the bullets whipping past him. He pauses above the body of a fallen Hydra agent, stooping to retrieve his gun. Nat yells a warning to Steve, who's across the room in a flash, ripping it from his hands.
"No, Buck. This isn't your fight," they hear through Steve's mouthpiece.
He blinks at Steve, but only for a moment, before he's lashing out again, coming up against the shield.
"Come on, Bucky, we've done this before. You know me."
Bucky doesn't stop his assault, not until Steve staggers and falls to his knees. Rumlow is behind him, his face a mess of scars. Their circling led them close to where he lay, and though Darcy can't see what he's done, there's trickle of blood coming from Steve's mouth.
There's silence in the ops room.
Bucky's stopped moving too, his chest heaving as he turns his attention to Rumlow. His gaze is not friendly.
He wrenches the shield from Steve's grasp and leaps, his boots hitting Rumlow's chest and knocking him back into the ground with enough force that Darcy can see his ribs give way. A bloody knife drops from Rumlow's hand and goes clattering across the ground. Then the shield scythes through the air, into Rumlow's skull, until it bites the ground.
Rumlow goes slack and Bucky steps away, pulling the shield with him. There isn't much left of Rumlow's head.
Nat comes up beside Bucky and whispers something to him. He crumples to his knees, and she catches him before he hits the floor, laying him down gently. Then she turns her attention to Steve, putting pressure on his knife wound.
"We got him," she announces through her mouthpiece. "He's coming home."
Darcy slumps over her desk, dimly aware that someone is sobbing. It's when she feels a reassuring hand on her back, rubbing circles, that she realizes it's her.
Sam helps Nat provide medical treatment until the clean-up crew arrive with a quinjet to give them a ride home. The rest of the team remain behind to destroy the chair. Steve's wound is grave, even for him, and it's a tense time in the ops room until they receive word the jet has touched down.
Two people are stretchered to the medical bay, and Darcy wastes no time in rushing over. Both are unconscious, but only one is critical. Bucky has been strapped down and locked in a room designed to keep Bruce's alter ego contained, at least until he wakes up and they can assess him. Steve is in surgery with a punctured lung.
"Honestly, they probably should let him sleep it off and heal himself," is Helen's opinion on that.
Darcy finds herself standing vigil outside Bucky's room, despite the fact that he sleeps on for hours. Maria comes to her at one point.
"He's back," she says. "You ready to go?"
"Just…give me a couple of days."
"Alright. You need a few days rest anyway. We all do. Tell Friday when you're ready and we can get your move arranged."
Sam and Nat join her when Steve is out of surgery and resting.
"How long do you think he'll be out of it?" Darcy asks.
"It can't be much longer."
"And what then?" Darcy's staring through the glass panel into the room where Bucky is 'sleeping'. He looks peaceful, at least, despite the restraints.
"The conditioning was already breaking down," Sam says. "Look at the way he took down Rumlow—he might not have immediately recognized us as friendlies, but he didn't see himself on Hydra's side either."
Nat nods in agreement. "Bucky had come so far that three weeks of trying to re-establishing programming which had been pretty comprehensively stripped away wasn't going to be very successful. I think it'll be quicker to undo their hard work this time around."
"I hope you're right," says Darcy. But there's that niggling feeling inside, that notion that she's reached the end of the line with Bucky, and she can't shake it.
Steve's awake first, despite the fact that he's had enough drugs to sink an elephant. They take turns sitting with him, trying to keep him distracted from the pain.
"He awake yet?" is the first question out of his mouth when Darcy arrives with a massive bunch of grapes.
"No, but the anesthetist is wondering if we can get a trigger word programmed into you which will keep you down."
Steve rolls his eyes, then narrows them at her. "Have you slept yet?"
"I've napped." On the cold, plastic chair outside Bucky's containment room, with the memory of Rumlow's head splitting like a watermelon jerking her awake before she could reach deep sleep. She wonders whose job it is to clean Steve's shield.
They talk about inconsequential things while he munches on the grapes, but there's a sense of peace in him she's not seen for a while. It's mission accomplished, at least until Hydra rears another ugly head.
"I know Maria thought she was doing the right thing when she pulled you working missions with Bucky," Steve says, "but I'm going to insist you're reinstated. When he goes back out in the field—if he wants to—he needs someone watching him to make sure this kind of thing can't happen again."
"Steve…" she begins, grasping for the right words, before realizing they don't exist. "I'm not going to be here. I'm going to Manhattan."
He frowns, pushing himself to sit upright even though it clearly pains him. "Is Maria behind this? I can talk to her—"
"No, Steve. This was my choice. I asked to go." She can't look him in the eye as she says it, tries to push him back down even though it's like shoving at a slab of marble. The frown deepens.
"But he needs you."
She shakes her head. "No, he doesn't. He needs uncomplicated friendship and a handler who won't be distracted by life outside the mission. I can give you names of people I trust to do that role, but it's not me anymore."
His jaw is tight, his face radiating the disapproval that he does so well. She steps away and sighs.
"I'll say goodbye before I leave. Do you want me to send Sam through?"
He doesn't respond and she shuffles out of the room, breathing deeply when the door shuts behind her and the weight of his disappointment is lifted. She always knew he would react like this, though it doesn't make it any easier to bear.
She returns to Bucky's room, to find Sam and Nat staring through the glass with concerned expressions. She follows their gaze to find Bucky, awake and untied, pacing the small space.
"When did he wake?" she asks. What she really means is 'Why didn't you come get me?'
"Not long ago," Nat replies. "I went in and did it." At Darcy's questioning stare, she explains, "I knew there had to be a phrase to reverse the original command, so I tried a few until one worked."
"He wasn't really sleeping," Sam cuts in. "More like stasis."
"So why didn't you wait until I got back?"
"We weren't sure what we'd be waking up," says Nat. "I didn't want you to be around if it was messy."
Darcy crosses to the window, and the fact that Bucky doesn't notice the movement means it must be a one-way mirror she's looking through. She's able to watch the way he stalks the small space, muscles rippling under skin—they still haven't given him a shirt—his gaze unfocused and jumpy. She notices the black words on his upper back, and averts her eyes before she can read what they say. They don't belong to her; they're private.
Instead, she turns back to Sam and Nat. "It's him, isn't it? The Soldier, rather than Bucky?"
Sam gives a cautious nod. "For now."
"He recognized me when I woke him," Nat says. "But that might just have been from the fight before. He didn't know me."
"We're going to let Steve go in first. It was Steve who broke through last time, we're going to let him try again. Beyond that, time and therapy will be our best hope. Let whatever conditioning they re-established degrade on its own."
They have the best doctors available, even if they won't get close until Bucky is calmer. He's with people who will take care of him. She's done here.
"I'm leaving," she announces. Nat doesn't even feign surprise, but Sam's shocked.
"We just got him back."
"Which is why it's the perfect time to go. He won't even know I'm gone."
"And what about when he remembers and wonders where you are?" Sam presses.
"Tell him I'm in Manhattan, though I don't think that's a question you'll have to answer."
Nat's shaking her head, making her feelings about Darcy's decision clear. "What about the rest of us?"
"You functioned fine before I came along. I need to find my own place in the world."
"Your place is here with us." Darcy turns to find Steve at the end of the corridor, dragging an IV pole beside him.
Darcy purses her lips while Nat strides up the corridor to usher Steve back to his hospital bed. "I have to go pack," she mutters, turning her back on Steve and his attempt at changing her mind using his Captain America is disappointed with you face.
She's left alone for the rest of the day, and it's depressing how quickly she can pack up her life in the facility. The clothes all fit in one suitcase, her other possessions into a few cardboard boxes. Some things she decides to leave behind and gift to other people: her mind flashes briefly on Bucky's stark quarters, but she shoves the thought away while she dumps ombre candlesticks into a box with Jane's name on.
Maria emails her to let her know that Darcy will be traveling to Manhattan with her the next day. Otherwise, Darcy will have to drive herself when she's ready. It'll be the first time Darcy's actually traveled on a quinjet, but she's not excited by the prospect. Mostly she's tired—beyond tired, an exhaustion that lingers in her bones. Maybe it will be lift when she's away from the facility, maybe she will have to learn to live with it.
Nat's there in the morning, casting a resigned gaze over Darcy's stuff waiting to picked up. "Are you at least going to say goodbye to him?"
Darcy shrugs. "I don't know what good it will do."
"For your sake."
"I don't—don't know if I want to while he's like that."
"He's calmer today; he recognizes Steve, though he's not sure why. You should give it a try."
Hope swells, unbidden, and Darcy hates it, but it's unties her tongue before she can control herself. "Okay."
Nat won't let things drop as she leads her to Bucky, who's been moved to a less bombproof cell. "What will you do when you see him again? Because you probably will. Steve's at Stark Tower all the time. Even if you can find excuses to wriggle out of coming back here, your paths are bound to cross. Won't it be harder when that happens when he looks at you and doesn't even recognize you, than staying here and letting him get to know you again?"
"And end up back in the same position? No thanks."
The room Bucky's in now is bigger than yesterday, though it's still pretty basic. There's a cot fixed to the wall, and chairs bolted to the floor. A small door in one corner leads into what Darcy presumes will be a bathroom area. Only the soft decor and ample lighting makes it feel less like your average prison cell. Steve is sat on one of the chairs, apparently healed from his injuries, while Bucky's perched on the edge of his cot. Another man is sat in there with them. She can't see his face, and he isn't wearing a white coat, but she'd put money on him being a doctor of some kind.
Nat taps on the door and all three heads swivel towards it, confirming the window looking in is another one-way mirror. Steve makes his way over to guard the door while Nat opens it. He takes stock of Darcy and for a moment she thinks he's going to turn her away, but he steps aside to let her through. Bucky's attention is focused on the corridor beyond the door—she can see him plotting to make a move—but it snaps to her when the it closes.
His brows knit together as he takes her in, but there's no spark of recognition that she picks up on. Just curiosity and suspicion. There's still a hint of a cornered wild animal to him, but he's gone from lashing out to taking up as little space as possible, curling himself up against the wall. She wishes they'd give him a t-shirt.
"This is Dr Adebayo," Steve introduces. The doctor gives her a nod but doesn't rise from the chair. He doesn't appear to be taking notes, and Darcy notices the sweat patches under his arms. She supposes that the Soldier's reputation will do that to a person. She should be more concerned for herself—frightened wild animals have a tendency to lash out, and an unarmed Bucky is still a dangerous Bucky—but he looks so pitiful with his wide, skittish eyes and shallow breathing that it's hard to be so. She remembers their conversation, so many months ago, about not appearing like a threat to him, and she doubts that's changed.
"What are we calling him?" she says to Steve. She doesn't bother to lower her voice, mindful that Bucky will hear her anyway. Whispering will just raise his hackles further.
Steve shrugs and looks over the doctor.
"Is there something you'd prefer to be called?" Dr Adebayo asks, addressing Bucky, who considers the question before shaking his head.
She looks to Steve for further guidance, but he gestures for her to speak, using the most passive-aggressive hand-gesture she's ever been subjected to. Instead she faces Bucky, letting Steve drop back a few paces so she's on her own. She shoves her hands in her pockets and decides to skip the preamble.
"I guess this is goodbye."
He blinks at her, shifting slightly on the cot, and speaks for the first time.
"Those words…" He's confused again, lost in his head as he searches for some memory he's lost. "I know those words."
His reaction makes her lose her train of thought. She turns to Steve with her own confusion, but he's staring at her with his mouth gaping open.
"Sure you know those words, Buck," he says. "I used to tease you about them all the time."
She still doesn't understand what's going on, even as Bucky shuffles closer to the edge of the cot, until his feet brush the floor. He mumbles something which Darcy doesn't catch, and speaks directly to Steve. "You used to say that to me."
"I did."
She shares a bewildered look with the doctor.
"Is it true?" Bucky asks, looking between her and Steve. She can only throw an exasperated glance at Steve.
"Is what true?" she asks, but Steve opts to answer Bucky instead.
"Yeah, I think it is." The corner of his mouth is curling into a smile, even as Bucky pads towards her, and she's getting alarmed.
"What did you used to say to him?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch. Steve makes no move to keep Bucky away, and Bucky comes to a stop right in front of her, his face lit with wonder.
"I said 'Those are awful strange words for your soulmate to say'," is Steve's reply. Bucky sinks to his knees and wraps his arms around Darcy's hips, resting his head against her belly.
From this angle, she can see the silver words on the skin of his back.
I hope you all enjoyed Rumlow's death!
There's only an epilogue to go, in which I will try to make sure everyone understands how Darcy only just became Bucky's soulmate.