"Damn, I can't believe it worked!" Sam's nano-tech Pym suit vanished as he looked around the dark, empty alley in Manhattan, leaving him in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with the shield and wings on his back.

Bucky was dressed similarly, with a black bag in his right hand. He whipped his phone out of his back pocket and held it up, as if that would help it recalibrate to local time any better. Sam raised an eyebrow and bit down on the teasing barb on the tip of his tongue.

"March 17th, 2014, 2:04 a.m." Bucky pocketed his phone and brushed a stray bang away from his eyes before adjusting his wristwatch to the local time. His hair had grown just enough that he almost looked like his Smithsonian photos. His expression was all business, but the tight lines around his eyes betrayed his calm exterior.

Sam knew this had to be messing with Bucky's head in all kinds of ways. Neither of them wanted to be there, but an old enemy had reared his greasy head and gotten his hands on Pym particles.

The streetlights cast a pale yellow light on Bucky's face, creating shadows that played across his grim expression. "I'll try to kill Nick Fury in eight hours."

Sam knew what Bucky was thinking, but interfering in that assassination attempt wasn't on their agenda. "Fury survives. You know what we're here to do—find and stop Rollins. Minimal changes." Their goal was to stop Rollins from creating a new timeline branch, one in which Hydra ruled the world. "We find Jack Rollins, persuade him to tell us what he's done and what information he's told others, then we fix what we can and take his ass back to 2024."

They lucked out with intel about the theft of Pym Particles and arrived at a secret Hydra base a few minutes too late. The firefight was a short one. They managed to take out half a dozen hired goons. An hour later, after reviewing security footage that showed Jack Rollins and a woman step onto a platform and vanish into thin air, they coaxed intel out of their prisoners and liberated encrypted data from the computer that was no match for Sam's Wakandan tech. After Bucky searched the place for useful weapons and devices, which he stuffed in a black bag liberated from one of the prisoners, they followed.

Bucky gave a curt nod. "I got it. You do your thing. I'll do mine. I'll protect Steve and make sure Project Insight goes down in flames if I have to blow up the helicarriers myself."

Sam took a step closer. This was going to be a hard mission, even if everything went smoothly. Bucky would have to tail Steve without making contact. That alone would be torture for the man. Hell, it would for him , too. Unfortunately, that wasn't all they had to deal with. They'd most likely have to deal with the Winter Soldier, too.

Sam could only imagine what was going on in Bucky's head. "You sure you're okay?"

Bucky's only response was another tight nod as he turned and headed out of the alley, his back straight and his gait stiff.

"Shit," Sam huffed as he followed.

-0 0 0-

The hotel room had two twin beds, mold in the bathroom, and a carpet that smelled faintly of urine, but it was cheap, and they wouldn't be spending a lot of time in it. If they were lucky, they'd be back home before they had to spend a second night.

Bucky listened to Sam settle on top of the bed. Sleep was a good idea. They would both need to be sharp and focused tomorrow. Still, he couldn't tear himself away from the window. It was three a.m. At that exact moment, a younger Bucky Barnes was being kept in a bank vault, having no idea who he was. In a few hours, he'd be sent to kill Nick Fury.

If Jack Rollins succeeded, that Bucky Barnes — the Winter Soldier— would assassinate Steve Rogers on his way home, before he stepped inside to find Nick Fury. With Steve dead, there would be no one to stop Project Insight. Fortunately, Rollins had no idea they had followed, which gave them the advantage.

"You should get some sleep, Buck." Sam's voice was heavy with fatigue.

Bucky sighed and closed the curtains. "I know, but I don't think that's in the cards tonight." He sat on the end of the empty bed and sucked in a deep breath in a futile attempt to ease the tension coiled in his gut like a defensive serpent.

Sam shifted on his side, his face barely visible in the darkroom. "There's a chance you'll end up going one-to-one with yourself tomorrow, and no offense, but you were a real asshole. You're gonna need to be on your game."

"Gee thanks." Bucky shot Sam a look and hoped the irritation was plainly visible on his face even through the darkness. "That'll make it so much easier for me to fall asleep."

Sam's shadowy figure sat up and leaned over to the nightstand between the two beds. He reached for his phone, the screen turning on to cast a harsh white light onto his angular features. A moment later a soothing, hypnotic melody filled the room.

"Take off your shoes, lay back, and close your eyes. Picture yourself in a dark room, which shouldn't be too hard since that's exactly where we are. If your thoughts start to wander, just bring them back to visualizing the darkroom. Doing that and focusing on this music has been scientifically proven to promote sleep."

Bucky shrugged and pulled off his boots. It was worth a shot. Sam usually knew what he was talking about when it came to this kind of stuff. He fell back against the mattress, resting on top of the covers, and closed his eyes. He was able to keep his thoughts focused on the music and imagery of the dark room for about a minute before they started to drift toward unpleasant memories….

Memories of a chair driving electricity into his brain, battering Steve's face over and over again, and kicking Sam into freefall and a narrow escape from death.

Each time his thoughts wandered, he pulled them back to the music and pictured himself lying in the dark hotel room. It took a while. He wasn't sure how long. At some point, he fell asleep, jolting awake when Sam slapped his leg and told him it was time to get moving.

The scent of coffee banished the remnants of morning fog from his brain. Sam pointed to a disposable coffee cup and brown paper bag on the nightstand next to the bed. With a grateful smile, Bucky drained half the coffee and opened the bag to find a hefty egg and sausage muffin sandwich. He scarfed that down and finished the last of the coffee.

He must've been really out of it if Sam had been able to get dressed and head out without waking him. Sam was being unusually considerate. It felt nice to have someone care about him enough to bring him breakfast.

He was still dressed, so it took them only a few minutes to empty his bladder, put his boots and gloves on, and slide the knife and Glock into places where they would not be seen even by the most discerning eye.

The square white bag on the end of Sam's bed told Bucky that his friend had also done a bit of shopping on his morning excursion. Waking up before sunrise was a trait Sam and Steve shared. He, on the other hand, couldn't seem to fall asleep before midnight, and if the nightmares left him alone, he could sleep until the light peeking around the edges of the curtains prodded his eyelids open.

"There's a jacket and a change of clothes in there for you." Sam jerked his chin toward the bag.

Bucky checked out the contents, pulling out a black jacket that would help to further conceal any weapons he might need. There were also basic items, like a couple of pairs of socks, underwear, and a new toothbrush.

Bucky gave Sam a firm stare before they headed out to emphasize his next words. "Don't take any chances. You get into any trouble, let me know immediately, and get the hell out of there."

Sam straightened and cocked an eyebrow. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know."

"Without the suit, you're vulnerable." Bucky intended to do everything in his power to make sure Sam made it home to Sarah and the boys, even if that meant reminding the newly minted Captain America that he didn't have superpowers. Bucky eyed the case on the floor that housed Sam's Wakandan-made suit. There was no way Sam could fly around in that thing without drawing an obscene amount of attention, and for this mission, they had to stay under the radar. "You find a safe place to stash it?"

Sam nodded and opened it, putting on his wrist control and palming one of the small drones. He cooed at it as if it were a baby bird, and then closed the lid. "Yep. We better get a move on." He slipped the drone into a pocket inside his jacket and looked up at Bucky. "Same goes for you." He tapped his earpiece. "You figure out how you're going to stop yourself from killing Steve without messing up Nick's fake death?"

Bucky took a breath. He was still working out a plan, but if the Winter Soldier didn't believe Nick Fury was dead, then he'd continue his mission, and this time Nick might end up in the ground for real. "I've got a few ideas."

-0 0 0-

Bucky hadn't done this in a while — staying still and silent, waiting for the target. He knew the exact time that he'd gotten into position on the rooftop on this night, years ago for him, when his target had been Nick Fury. Now. He waited for a different target. His younger self wasn't going to arrive for at least a couple of hours, if things went similarly to how they had the first time. He gave himself a head start, though, just in case.

He stayed crouched in the shadows a rooftop away, to the side of the route that would provide the Soldier's escape. He was confident he could be so silent and well-hidden that even his Winter Soldier self wouldn't detect his presence. When the soldier took a position, Bucky would be off the side and behind him, the perfect vantage point to launch a distraction at just the right time, because he knew the exact moment when Steve Rogers would become visible on the motorcycle, heading home for the night, oblivious to the assassin waiting on a rooftop and an injured Nick Fury in the apartment.

Fury had arrived twenty minutes ago, just as the day's light was beginning to fade. Bucky had to hand it to the guy. If he wasn't looking for the man, Bucky never would've seen him enter the building, limping and clutching his arm to his side.

It was a cool evening, but not terribly chilly. The jacket provided plenty of warmth. Dressed all in black, he knew he was invisible. Stealth was like a familiar blanket. Even now, he still felt most comfortable as an invisible observer.

When he finally caught a glimpse of himself slinking onto the rooftop like a shadow moving with the moonlight, the rifle slung over his shoulder, the breath went still in his lungs. The silver arm caught a reflection from a lamp mounted on a nearby building, and if Bucky hadn't been looking in that exact direction, waiting for himself to arrive, he never would've seen it.

Tension coiled his muscles into tight knots. It was dark now. The Soldier had tracked Fury here.

The Soldier.

He wanted to shoot to his feet and scream at the top of his lungs, "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes! Stop! This isn't you."

He couldn't say any of that. It wouldn't break through to the other man even if he did, but the plan was to try to preserve the timeline and prevent it from branching because, apparently, that was something best avoided.

But Steve had gone back in time and stayed there, and still the world remained. How bad could changing a timeline be? Steve would never be content to sit invisibly on the sidelines and watch bad things happen.

Did you go after me, Steve? Or did you leave me in Hydra's clutches?

He pulled his thoughts away from that question. It always sent him spiraling into the chaos of What Ifs. Besides, if Steve had created another timeline branch, he wouldn't have ended up on that bench…right?

When he heard the motorcycle, he withdrew the rock from his jacket pocket. It was old school and cliché but in this particular case, it would do the trick if his timing was perfect… and Steve's life depended on his timing being perfect.

He saw his younger self adjust the rifle, his body pressed on the hard rooftop. The moment Steve came into position, the Soldier would fire. Bucky imagined Steve's head snapping back, his body flinging off the motorcycle, rolling several feet and then lying still and lifeless.

He raised his right hand, gripping the rock tightly, and when he saw the headlight on the street below, he flung the rock. In the darkness, his eyes lost sight of it as it sailed across the gap between the buildings, but he heard the clink of it as it bounced off the titanium arm. The soldier spun around, rifle aimed and a knife in his other hand, ready to attack.

But of course, there was no one there. Bucky held his breath, still and silent, out of sight, making sure he didn't move a muscle. Even the slightest motion would be enough to draw the other man's attention, and then he'd have a situation on his hands.

The moment the mission prerogative took over became evident when the Soldier's head turned away and his eye pressed to the scope. Bucky knew the other man's senses would remain tuned to his surroundings, one part of his brain searching for a potential attacker while the other focused on his targets.

Fortunately, Steve was now in the building, heading up the stairs to his apartment.

Bucky knew what would happen next. He knew what he—the Soldier—would do. He would wait, just as he had before, for Fury to stand. The thermal sensors would show the movement, and the moment Fury moved into position, the Soldier would open fire. Three shots. From the Soldier's vantage point, Steve wouldn't be a sure kill, so the Soldier would wait, hoping for a shot.

Steve wouldn't give him one.

Bucky already had his escape route planned. When the first shots rang out, he waited long enough to make sure things were proceeding as they should. When the clatter of breaking glass signaled Steve's pursuit, Bucky held his position as the Winter Soldier ran across the rooftop while Steve pursued from the floor below.

The Soldier leaped to the next rooftop and, as Steve crashed through another window, the Soldier slid to a halt, turned, and swung the rifle upward, taking aim. Bucky stiffened. Steve was now the Soldier's target. Before, Steve hadn't been the target. Not yet. Not until after Steve visited Pierce and refused to play ball.

Bucky didn't have time to think or weigh pros and cons. He didn't even have time to revel in the fact that Steve was a few feet away, in the flesh, or to wish the circumstances were different so he could walk up to his old friend, pull him into a long hug, and tell him everything that's going to happen—but, damn, how he wished he could. That wasn't part of this mission. His mission was to save Steve's life and make sure the Insight helicarriers never got operational

Steve had the shield. He'd block the bullets, but Bucky couldn't risk things going sideways. If Steve sent his shield sailing through the air like he had the last time, he'd be vulnerable, and the Soldier would take the shot.

Bucky aimed the Glock and fired, hitting the Soldier's Russian rifle as he launched himself backward off the roof. He knew he'd draw both men's attention as soon as he fired, and he couldn't risk being seen. He landed lightly on his feet and took off running.

The Soldier's feet beat in fast pursuit, but Bucky was already gaining distance. The Soldier's attention would be diverted with Steve close behind. In a second, Steve would send the shield into the air. It would give Bucky the time he needed to escape.

He remembered that moment well. He had not been briefed on Captain America or Steve Rogers because Steve hadn't been a target yet.

He hadn't known the man carried a shield. And yet, somehow, he recognized the sound of Steve's gait, shifting into place to adjust his weight and grunting as he sent the shield through the air. Bucky's ears had picked up the faint hum of air over the vibranium saucer. He knew what to expect, turning without even realizing why, his arm coming out instinctively to catch the shield.

Even then, he hadn't remembered Steve, but there was an itch in the back of his brain that made him pause a moment before returning the shield with enough force to drive Steve several feet backward.

Bucky forced his thoughts to the present mission. Steve would be in danger until the mission was done. A few miles away, he flagged down a cab. His next stop was the medical facility where Steve would meet Natasha. The Soldier still had his mission, only this time, Steve and Natasha were on the list a day earlier than they had been thanks to Jack Rollins and his associate.

He didn't know how Rollins had orchestrated all this—to convince Pierce to do things differently. Had he presented proof of time travel? Come back with video footage? Waltzed right up to his younger double?

The how didn't matter as much as the why. Rollins wanted Hydra to win this one and change the course of history.

He told the cab to drop them off a mile away from the medical facility. The walk would give him time for a check. He tapped his earpiece. "Stop one is complete. What's your status?"

Sam's voice came in clear. "The geezer is safe and sound?"

Bucky rolled his eyes at the code name Sam insisted on giving Steve. It was a two-for-one jab at both of them. "He's fine."

"The strike team is en route, so keep your distance. I'm tracking our guy, but I'm not sure which Rollins he is. No sign of the second traveler." There was a pause, then, "You good?"

Bucky knew what Sam was asking. "Yeah." He was, as long as he didn't think about things too much — like the fact that he could walk right up to Steve and say, 'hey buddy, it's been a while' or that, a few moments ago, he got a solid look at himself from the outside as the monster that Hydra had turned him into.

-0 0 0-

Holy hell… Cold snaked up from the pit of his belly into the center of his chest when Sam saw Rollins and two other black-clad goons leave the bank building. He half-expected to see The Winter Soldier with them, but he wasn't, which meant he was most likely still in the bank building…having who knows what done to him.

Bucky.

The Winter Soldier.

Memories rattled in his brain, clashing with emotions he struggled to clamp down on. That was his friend, a man he'd come to know and respect. Sam remembered how terrifying the Winter Soldier had looked the first time he'd seen him standing in front of his car on the freeway after tossing Sitwell in front of a truck.

A windowless black van pulled up and the group jumped inside. Letting them go felt wrong. Even though he knew how things would play out if he and Bucky succeeded in their mission, there was a voice in his brain that sounded a lot like Steve insisting that if he could change something for the better, he should.

If they preserved the timeline by ensuring events happened as close as possible to the way they had the first time around, Bucky was still in for a world of hurt. He would spend two years on the run before getting captured and used by Zemo. He'd also kill a lot of people between now and then.

I fucking hate this. He tapped his earpiece. "I've got a visual on Rollins and some Strike goons. They just left the bank."

"I've got a visual on Rollins in a glass elevator at the Triskelion," Bucky's voice answered in Sam's ear.

"That means the guy who just left is our traveler." Sam fed instructions to the drone through his wristband, sending it after the van. His display confirmed the attachment of the acoustic device, and he recalled the drone. He couldn't risk it being spotted. "I've got ears on them."

The cold in his gut turned to ice as he listened. "Heads up. They're heading your way. I think they're going to try to take Steve out right after he downs the jet."

"Understood…"

"I can get there, but without my wings they will get there first."

"No. The bank is their base. Keep your eyes there. I've got… I can't… God dammit."

Sam tensed. He didn't like the sound of that. "What is it? Are you okay?" Damn, he really wished he could use his wings.

"I always knew he was a crazy punk, but Jesus…!"

"What is it, Buck?"

"This kamikaze idiot just jumped twenty-some stories. I heard about it, but seeing it is a whole different thing." There was a scraping noise and the rustling of fabric, then quick footsteps and heavy breathing . "I'm moving into position."

"Be careful." Sam didn't like sitting still. He sure as hell didn't like leaving Bucky to go solo against whatever Hydra goons they intended to throw at Steve. "Do you have a plan on how to stop them without being seen?"

"I have a plan."

Sam grimaced. He could tell from Bucky's tone that was all he'd get, payback, no doubt, for their first mission together. "I'm not gonna ask."

Bucky's breath huffed in a way that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

-0 0 0-

Bucky didn't know exactly where the Hydra team would plan to ambush Steve, but he knew approximately where Steve had taken down the Quinjet. Given Steve's penchant for slipping out of traps, Hydra would want to take advantage of their prescience and attack Steve at his most vulnerable. That would have to be after he destroyed his motorcycle, which meant Bucky had at least until the jet appeared before he had to come up with a plan.

The biggest obstacle was the bridge itself. It left few places to take cover. Unless the Hydra group switched to air transportation, they'd have to use the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge to intercept Steve. If he could get to that access point before they arrived, he'd be able to delay them long enough to clear the way for Steve and hopefully remain an invisible benefactor.

-0 0 0-

The ear-splitting sound of tires screeching and metal scraping against a hard surface battered Sam's eardrum.

"All secure." Bucky sounded breathless.

The tension melted from Sam's muscles. He didn't even realize how anxious he'd been until he heard those words. "Did you crash the van?"

"Everyone's alive, though a couple will have nasty headaches. It delayed them long enough for Steve to make his escape. I can't engage Rollins without being seen, so I'm heading to the next location."

-0 0 0-

The Winter Soldier. Steve wasn't sure whether he could trust Romanoff, but he believed her about the Winter Soldier. She seemed genuinely off-balance back at the hospital when Hill confirmed the bullets used on Fury were Soviet slugs with no rifling.

The assassin he'd chased last night was fast and strong. He had to be enhanced. There was another player—a figure in black that had taken a single shot at the Soldier and then vanished so quickly that Steve wasn't sure whether he'd actually seen him or his eyes had played tricks on him in darkness.

When he first heard the shot ring out, he thought it was Agent 13, but unless she was enhanced, there was no way she could have made it there that quickly. The murky glimpse he'd gotten of the mystery figure gave him the impression that it was a male–someone as fast as him and the Winter Soldier.

There was also the suspiciously-timed crash after the Triskelion. He'd clocked the black van that looked like the ones SHIELD used…two seconds before the front right tire blew out and it crashed.

His gaze strayed to Romanoff as he steered the Chevy truck toward Camp Lehigh. She might have an idea who the new player was, but though she seemed genuine and she had given him back the drive he stashed in the vending machine, he wasn't entirely sure whether she had a hidden agenda like she had during the Lamurian Star mission. He'd keep his guard up around her.

-0 0 0-

Keeping up with Steve Rogers had never been easy, even when he was five-foot-four and weighed 95 pounds, but it was harder now that he had the serum and was actively trying to outrun Hydra. Bucky was forced to steal a motorcycle to make his way to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey. He kept his distance and observed, just in case things happened differently.

It went against every instinct he had to sit back and wait for Hydra to drop a bomb on top of Natasha and Steve, but he kept reminding himself that both of them survived. He'd already scouted the place. There were no signs that anyone from Hydra arrived first.

He watched from a tree several hundred feet away as Steve and Natasha made their way onto the base and broke into the building that, from the outside, looked like an armory. Then, he waited. His vibranium fist tightened around the tree branch when he heard the distant hum of the rocket. Even though he knew it was coming, he flinched when it hit. Steve and Natasha would be buried underneath the rubble.

The explosion was nowhere near as large as he expected it to be to kill Steve and Natasha several stories below the surface…in the room that housed Zola's AI mind.

Shit! "Sam, we have a problem."

"I do NOT want to hear that," Sam said in Bucky's ear.

"Hydra bombed the Army base, but I think they used a smaller rocket. My guess is Rollins told them Steve and Natasha survive. So their goal here is to flush them out and have them go to your place, where they'll have a perfect opportunity to take out all three people standing in their way." They didn't want to sacrifice their prized A.I. "That damn Zola computer is likely still intact."

Bucky spotted Steve and Natasha working their way out from beneath the rubble, evading the Hydra agents in making their way to the truck. "I have eyes on Stat," he told Sam, using their code word for Steve and Natasha, even though they were almost positive no one would be able to hack into their comm, or even know that they needed to try. Nobody should know they were here, and even if they did know, the technology was a decade out of date. The only people who might have something from 2024 were Rollins and his traveling companion. "I'll get ahead of them."

Bucky hurried to his motorcycle. Knowing where they were heading allowed him to keep a safe distance. He took advantage of the motorcycle to go off-road, taking a shortcut to get well ahead of them. He needed to arrive first…but there was something that kept stabbing at the inside of his skull like a hot poker.

It wasn't within the mission parameters. It wasn't a good idea. Sam sure as hell wouldn't approve. It would waste too much valuable time.

But the memory kept playing over and over until he knew he had no other choice. If he pushed the motorcycle hard and kept his eyes and ears tuned to cops, it would be doable.

-0 0 0-

He adjusted the black ski mask on his face and glanced at his watch. If things happened the way they did, and there was no guarantee they would, she would walk out that door in two minutes. She'd head to the elevator at the end of the hall.

There'd be no witnesses. He'd already disabled the camera on this floor. The mask was an insurance policy against the unexpected.

He hid in the corner, dressed in black and concealed by shadows. He heard her footsteps, the jiggle of the doorknob, and the whisper of air as the door opened.

She stepped out, adjusting the blackstrap of her purse, and closed the door behind her. She turned away from him, heading directly toward the elevator. He slid away from the corner, steps fast and silent. When she stopped at the elevator and pushed the call button, she reached into her bag. She was looking for her cell phone, but it wasn't there.

He struck before she turned around, his arm sweeping around her neck. His grip was tight enough to ensure no sound escaped her throat as he cut off the blood supply to her brain long enough for her to crumple against him. He eased his grip immediately, not wanting to risk permanent damage.

"I'm sorry, but this is for the best," he whispered against her ear. It was stupid. She couldn't hear him, but the urge to apologize pushed the words out of him.

She'd only be out for a few seconds. He eased her gently into the elevator and reached his arm inside to hit the button for the lobby. She would likely be stirring by the time it arrived.

The elevator doors closed, and Bucky made his escape through the same window in the storage room around the corner at the other end of the hall. As he scaled down the fire escape, his vision blurred with the impact of what he'd done.

There was no going back now. He'd changed the timeline. Renata would live to see her son and two daughters again. He hopped onto the street below, slid onto his motorcycle, and hurried to his next stop.

-0 0 0-

"So this is where you used to live?" Bucky had a clear view of the side entrance. He felt like a peeping Tom, hidden within bushes at the edge of the neighbor's property at the crack of dawn. He'd already done a sweep of the area, and it was clean.

He hadn't told Sam about Renata yet. He hadn't decided whether he was going to. He should, but he couldn't undo what he'd done, and Sam wouldn't approve of him changing the timeline.

The Winter Soldier hadn't yet arrived, which gave him and Sam the advantage. Sam was at a distance, scoping out the area with one of the tiny, quiet Wakandan drones that should, hopefully, go unnoticed.

"Yeah, up until I had to go on the run after helping to save your ass," Sam said through the comm. "You got something to say about it?"

The challenge in Sam's tone drew a smile out of him. So defensive, Sam. "It's nice. Quiet neighborhood. Too many windows and about half a dozen entry points. At least you have the blinds closed."

"I was working at the VA center. I wasn't an Avenger. I'm not expecting the world's greatest assassin to be trying to take me out. Just don't let me get a bullet to the head please…or anywhere else?"

"The Winter Soldier will go for Steve first. He's the highest priority target. You'd be second on the list because you took out one of the helicarriers and you're going to be the new Captain America." The Soldier would strike the moment Sam opened the door. Bucky had to neutralize the threat before then. "Don't worry. Tell me when you see me arrive, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Don't get killed by yourself. Can you imagine how confusing that would be when you get your memories back… ? Shit. I see him. Heat signature shows a figure taking position in a tree under heavy cover. He's 300 feet southeast of your position. Younger and slightly-less-buff me is finishing my jog. I should be arriving within the next 5 minutes."

Steve and Natasha would knock on Sam's door a couple of minutes after he arrived. Bucky had to neutralize the Winter Soldier before then. Sneaking up on his counterpart would not be easy. After the incident on the roof, he'd be on high alert, ears tuned to his surroundings even more so than usual, eyes scanning the area.

"Sam, can you bring the drone close to the Soldier without being in danger of having him shoot it down? I need a distraction. He's fast, as I'm sure you remember, and a damn good shot, so you'll have to be careful."

It was strange talking about himself in the third person, and every time he referred to that hollowed-out shell as the (Winter) Soldier, something caught in the back of his throat.

"Yes, I remember." There was a tightness in Sam's voice that made Bucky wince. "I got it."

He grabbed the ski mask from his back pocket and slid it over his head before moving away with careful steps toward his target. Even though the mask was nothing like the hard mask of the Winter Soldier, it felt too confining…and almost suffocating despite the holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth. After almost being spotted that night on the roof, however, he couldn't take any chances.

He kept to the shadows in the brush, watching where he placed his feet, mindful about making even the slightest noise that would give away his approach. It was taking too damn long. Steve and Natasha had arrived. They'd knock on Sam's door any second.

Come on , Sam. Timing was critical, and he knew Sam was waiting for the strategic moment, but Bucky's stomach churned with bile as he waited, reminding him that he had not eaten since early yesterday. He'd need to load up on calories soon. If his body was a car, it would use up fuel like an old Chevy suburban…one of the downsides of the serum.

He was ready, 40 feet away from his target when he heard the drone. Its flight was almost silent, but it gave a suspicious whirr as it dove closer to the tree where the Soldier was perched, rifle pointed at Sam's place. The Soldier's body barely moved, except that his head tilted up and, in the space between heartbeats, his right arm moved with a blur of motion and sent a knife at the drone. Fortunately, the drone's sensors and defensive mechanisms were a hair faster, no doubt thanks to Sam's anticipation of the attack, and it dipped out of the way… almost. The blade brushed the outer edge of a wing, sending the little drone into a brief tailspin before it regained control.

The Soldier refocused his attention instantly on the door now opening, where Steve and Natasha stood. Bucky launched himself forward, angling his vibranium shoulder to ram the base of the tree. One shot rang out just as he hit the trunk, and the Soldier toppled from the branch, twisting to land on his feet, the rifle swinging toward Bucky.

Bucky had the advantage, and his leg was already sweeping through the air. His foot rammed his younger self squarely in the gut, driving the air from the Soldier and sending him crashing into another tree.

The Soldier rolled just as the shield embedded deeply into the trunk. Bucky spun to see Steve a hundred feet away, leaping over a fence. When Bucky turned back, the Soldier was gone.

Shit! Bucky ran. Steve was just as fast as him, maybe even faster. He was younger, too, and at the peak of his physical conditioning.

"Sam, I've got a problem." The words were breathy and clipped as his lungs worked at maximum capacity to keep up with the muscles working overtime in his legs, pushing to gain distance between himself and the stubborn mass of 'I can do this all day' in hot pursuit.

"I see that."

From somewhere behind him, the drone's lasers fired.

"I've slowed him down. Take a hard left at the blue house."

Bucky saw the single-story townhome with white shutters and slowed enough to make the turn without careening into the street and potentially hitting an oncoming car.

"Take another right after the red brick building. There's a tunnel that will take you to a busy commercial district."

Bucky followed Sam's instructions. When he got to the end of the tunnel, he yanked off his ski mask and stuffed it in his back pocket. He skidded to a near halt, and forced himself to walk as he emerged from the dark tunnel into the bright morning sunshine, his chest heaving. Then he melted into the crowd of people in suits carrying fancy purses and briefcases.

"We lost him."

"You opened fire on him?" He knew Sam hadn't hit Steve, but he had to have gotten pretty close to slow the man down.

"Wipe that scowl off your face. Red Wing fired into the ground in front of him. It saved your ass, didn't it?"

"It's weird that you name your drones."

"You should be nicer to them. They're your nephews."

Bucky rolled his eyes as he ducked into a breakfast shop. Now was his chance to fuel up. "No, and stop saying that. They're flying pests."

The café was cramped, with two bistro tables against the window and a long counter. The woman behind the register gave him a quizzical look. He pasted a smile on his face and tapped his ear. "Bye, honey, gotta go."

The woman smiled and straightened as he studied the menu written in chalk hanging on the wall behind her. "I can help you whenever you're ready," she said.

With the promise of food, his stomach rumbled loudly. The mixture of smells in the place made his cheeks tingle. He'd gone too long without food. His credit card wouldn't work since his account wouldn't be created for almost 10 years, but being on the run had taught him a valuable habit. He always kept enough cash on him to get him by in an emergency.

"I'll have five breakfast burritos with extra meat, a cinnamon roll, and a large cup of coffee, to go."

-0 0 0-

Bucky sat quietly on the edge of the bed and cleaned the plates of his vibranium arm with a white motel rag. Sam threw the empty Chinese containers in the small trash can and turned in the chair to look at Bucky. The man had barely said a word since they got back to the motel room. He knew Bucky well enough by now to know that the quieter he got, the darker his thoughts.

They had 15 hours until Project Insight launched. Sam spent the majority of the mission eavesdropping and gaining intel while Bucky thwarted his counterpart's numerous assassination attempts. Things were happening differently, but were they different enough to create a new timeline?

Sam had no idea, but the thought was a sticker in the back of his mind, poking at him, incessant in its irritation. At what point did they say 'fuck it' and step out of the shadows? After observing the freeway battle from a distance, Sam knew that's what was weighing on Bucky's mind.

That had been another close one. The battle progressed just as it had before until Steve and the others were taken into custody. This time, the Strike team knew that Hill had infiltrated their group. They'd planned to dig four graves instead of three and wipe out all their resistance in one swoop.

Bucky and Sam prevented that, but it had been a hard few hours. Watching the freeway battle was agony for Bucky. Sam could tell that by the crevice between his eyes and the tendons sticking out in his neck. Several times, Sam had to stop Bucky from launching himself into the fray.

It wasn't to protect Steve. Not this time. They knew how the battle would go, and they wouldn't intervene unless things took a turn. No, this time it was about the minivan on the freeway, riddled with bullet holes. There were names and faces on the other side of those bullet holes…names and faces that Bucky knew, because he counted them amongst his victims, even though with all the bullets flying around, there was no way to tell who fired those shots.

Too many civilians had gotten caught in the crossfire. Had they done the right thing by not interfering? It didn't feel right to sit back and watch people die. Now, in the silence of the room as the day faded and Bucky sat rigidly on the bed cleaning the same plate on his arm over and over again, Sam had the sickening feeling that he made a terrible mistake.

Could he have watched it play out if AJ and Cass were in that van?

For a moment back there, Sam thought Bucky would ignore him completely.

The anguish had been clear in his wet, crinkled eyes, and Sam almost had to decide whether it was worth a physical confrontation. It wasn't until Sam reminded Bucky that if the Strike team saw them, the jig was up. They'd become targets, or taken out, and there would be no one to stop future Rollins from making sure that Project Insight launched… and millions of people would die, including Doctor Strange, Tony Stark, Steve, and so many others.

If they tried to interfere, with so many high-powered firearms and Hydra agents, things would get messy no matter what. Even if they saved the people in the minivan, they'd have changed things that might mean others would die who hadn't originally. Did they have that right? Steve never traded lives, but that's exactly what they would be doing by interfering.

That was when Bucky finally conceded and stood down, his face pale and his right hand trembling, a haunted look in his eyes that Sam hoped to never see again. Now, back at the hotel room, the weight of that decision was crushing them both.

"You've been cleaning that one plate in your arm for the past 10 minutes." Sam leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "They died ten years ago for us." He said it as gently as he could, but Bucky still coiled forward. "We're not supposed to be here."

Bucky winced. The rag went still in his hand, but his head stayed down. "But we are here. There have already been half a dozen…changes." He swallowed and looked up. "Maybe this is already a new timeline."

Sam leaned back and let the breath out of his lungs. "Neither of us are time travel experts, but back when Bruce and the others were gathering the stones, it was important for them not to interfere with the timeline. We don't have to know the why, we just have to trust that Doctor Banner and Tony Stark know this stuff a helluva lot better than either one of us."

It sounded like a logical argument, but it didn't diminish that aching knot in his gut. If they were doing the right thing, why did he feel like a murderer?

"I'm not going to stand by and watch people die again." Bucky's voice was barely a whisper, but his gaze was steady. "I won't risk the mission. You were right about intervening on the freeway. It was too risky." He hesitated and cleared his throat before continuing. "You should know that, if I have a chance to stop people from dying without risking the mission, I'm going to. I don't care if it creates a new timeline. We're already in one. You know that. Too many things have happened differently. Zola for one."

Sam closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, trying not to think about that bullet-riddled minivan. He hated time travel, and he really hated Hydra.

AUTHOR'S Note:

This story is complete, posted regularly. I post shorter chapters more frequently on my AO3 account, which is open to all guests (so you don't need to make an account). The story has the same title and should be easy to find with a simple title search.