Bucky waited outside the Triskelion while Sam handled Pierce and Rollins. Because of future Rollins, Hydra knew Romanoff had infiltrated the Council, and unless Sam intervened, Pierce would likely kill her immediately. The two of them were spread thin, but he had faith in Sam.
They'd decided to wait until after the mission was successful to make a move on their Rollins. It was too risky to do anything else. If their presence was revealed, Hydra would be after them, making it far more difficult for them to intervene. They were most effective working in the shadows… for now, anyway.
He knew what was going to happen next, and he couldn't let it play out the same way. He helped himself to a secret Hydra storage facility. The black bag he carried was filled with explosives.
It didn't take him long to create a distraction that cleared out the launchpad and then set devices on every aircraft, demolishing Steve's air support.
-0 0 0-
The Winter Soldier scrambled from beneath the hunk of metal and stared at his target. When he regained consciousness after being choked out, something shifted in his brain. The code words no longer controlled him, but the mission prerogative remained.
"You know me," said the man who had just inexplicably saved his life.
The voice was a splinter in his brain. Something in the deep cavern of his mind stirred, bringing pain and a hollow ache to his chest that melded with the throbbing of his right shoulder. His ears rang, and an unusual feeling that a part of his brain identified as anger bubbled forth.
"No, I don't!" His metal arm swung out, made contact.
But he did. There was something about the man…his voice…his eyes.
"Bucky..."
That name. It twisted a thing deep inside of him. His chest was tight. He was damaged. The beam…the fight…something was terribly wrong.
"...you've known me your whole life."
He swung the metal arm again knocking his target down. The target got back up.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
Pain in his skull. Intense.
An alley. A toppled trash can. A small man with eyes just like the ones staring at him now.
"Sergeant James Barnes shipping out for England first thing tomorrow."
His head throbbed. Pressure built behind his eyes. "Shut up!"
The target took off his mask, stumbled, bleeding.
"I'm not gonna fight you." The target dropped his shield. "You're my friend."
He stared at the target. Those blue eyes. He knew them.
Not possible.
He yelled, lunged forward, decision made. "You're my mission!"
He punched the target. Again and again. Six times, until the right side of the target's face was almost demolished.
That determined face. One clear blue eye, the other swollen shut. His mission was almost complete. The target would be eliminated.
But that face. He knew it. Bloodied. He'd seen it that way, too. His lungs felt like ice.
His metal fist hovered in mid-air. An image sprung into his mind. A dark room, that face above him, strong arms pulling him up, dragging him off a table.
White mountains. A train. That face again...looking down at him, screaming. "Bucky!"
"Then finish it..." the target said, looking up at him with one eye, "...cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."
Something in his brain cracked, sending an iciness down his spine and bringing a sting to his eyes. The image in front of him blurred, and suddenly the man was smaller, standing with sad eyes in front of a closed door.
Metal screeched. The deck fell away, and the target with it. His metal hand grabbed a beam, and he hung there, watching as the man fell, hit the water, and disappeared.
Falling. Snow, pain, and blood. Death in the edges of his fading vision.
If he did nothing, the target would be eliminated. The mission prerogative clawed at his brain, demanded obedience as smoke and fire surrounded him.
The smoke was gasoline and burning flesh, the groans of the wounded on a battlefield. It was a cake, burning in the oven while a woman in a yellow apron fanned a towel toward the open window. It was the cloud from the factory chimney three miles from their apartment.
Their apartment?
A thing, deep and mutilated, screamed. An urge swelled, driving away the mission prerogative. It was something he didn't understand. A feeling. A heat behind his eyes. A tightness in his chest.
His metal fist opened, and he fell after the man with the determined eyes and familiar voice that split his brain in two.
-0 0 0-
They'd been so close to victory, but somehow it had all gone wrong. Pierce couldn't believe that they failed even with the benefit of future intel. It had to be Fury. Finding out the man was alive had been a punch to the gut, but that would explain the drone that had intervened when he was about to kill Romanoff.
Fury still has connections, and he wasn't shy about using them. At least Rollins had proven useful in small ways. They had been able to save the Zola computer and prevent Romanoff from releasing Hydra's secrets.
He turned to his daughter. She'd traveled through time to save his life. He saw himself in her eyes, but she had her mother's curly auburn hair. His tone was gentler when he spoke to her. "We suffered a momentary setback, but thanks to you I'm alive, and there's still hope we can turn this around."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm glad I got to spend this time with you, but it would have been nice to see Project Insight succeed." When she pulled away, she glanced at Rollins as if to gauge his response to their failure.
The older Rollins stared at the metal chair in the center of the room. "We still have a chance to change things. Romanoff never got a chance to dump all of Hydra's secrets on the Internet. I'm sure that's next on her agenda… her and Rogers'. We need to give them something else to focus on, and I know one thing that will be irresistible to Rogers." His lip quirked upward with a twitch of his eyebrow. He looked far too cocky for a man that had already failed several times. "The Asset. After pulling Rogers from the river, the Asset will head here. The first time around, he was out for blood. He was unstable. Hydra was in tatters, and everyone was scrambling. He came here and destroyed the chair, most of the equipment, and took whatever was useful to him. This time, we'll be ready for him. All we have to do is get him in that chair, say 10 words, and send him after Rogers. The Captain won't be able to resist trying to save his old friend. That will keep him and Romanoff occupied long enough for us to prepare our next move."
Pierce walked to the chair, placing one hand on the cold metal arm. So, the Asset broke his leash and was heading back on a mission of vengeance? It wasn't the first time the Asset had gone rogue, at least according to the mission reports he reviewed, but Hydra had recaptured him every time. Now, with a heads up, they'd be prepared.
He nodded and turned to the younger Rollins. "Round up as many men as you can, full gear, Protocol Z, and this time you'd better not let him slip out of your grasp like you did Rogers."
-0 0 0-
He couldn't believe the nightmare unfolding before his eyes. They'd changed things, and while they had successfully stopped Project Insight, they'd changed too much in the process. Romanoff hadn't released the Hydra-SHIELD data, and Pierce was still alive.
He knew where his younger self was heading after leaving Steve on the bank of the Potomac. First he'd take some time to nurse his wounds. He'd see an advertisement on the side of a bus about the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, steal some clothes and cash, and sneak his way past security. He'd stand in front of a face he barely recognized and read a brief biography of a man named James Buchanan Barnes. He'd watch the video of a man that looked like him laughing with the man who'd called him Bucky.
The experience would rattle things inside his brain that he hadn't known were there. He would read about how he had fought Hydra, been captured and experimented on, and even though he wouldn't remember it yet, something deep inside of him would know it was true. That same thing inside of him would scream—a ball of rage and anguish—and when he left the Smithsonian, he would head for the bank. He rationalized it tactically as a way to obtain weapons, money, and information, but really it was retribution.
Bucky took a hidden position on a rooftop across the street from the bank. Instead of finding the bank in disarray, with a handful of armed guards and scientists, the Soldier walked into a trap. Pierce and the two dozen men he'd seen entering were waiting for him.
That Bucky wouldn't escape Hydra. Bucky thought about waiting with a sniper rifle until they emerged. He could follow unseen and wait for an opportunity. Putting a bullet through his younger self's head would be a kindness, and since time travel was nothing like what he'd seen on most sci-fi shows, it wouldn't take him out of existence. Probably.
But he didn't have the stomach for that, not yet. He tapped his earpiece to open the connection. "Sam…"
"All clear on my end. Pierce made it out alive. The Council and Natasha are still breathing, so I think it's pretty safe to say we have created a new timeline. We've done all we need to do. Time to go home."
He struggled to formulate the words necessary to let Sam know just how fucked things had gotten. Bucky couldn't leave knowing that this alternate version of himself was still Hydra's slave — a human drone — or have a chance of sleeping knowing that he'd take more lives. He dropped his forehead on the cool cement of the rooftop and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then swallowing the lump in his throat.
"I can't leave." Bucky looked back up at the bank building across the street. The Winter Soldier hadn't emerged, and no Hydra goons had yet fled, which meant the trap worked. "He… The other guy, The Winter Soldier…"
"You want us to bring him in? If it's a new timeline, yeah… Let's do it."
Bless Sam for being willing to put himself in harm's way just to give this version of Bucky Barnes a better future, one without two years on the run, without the UN bombing, without Zemo, and hopefully without a grueling fight with Tony Stark.
"They have him. Pierce didn't die, Hydra's secrets aren't on the Internet. I originally came back here after the Potomac to destroy the base and the chair and load up with cash and weapons. The first time around, there were a few armed guards and a handful of techs and scientists. Rollins must've told them I'd come here, because they brought in a bunch of guys. No one has emerged, so they have him… Me. I can't let Hydra use me to kill more people."
He knew Hydra well enough to know who the top targets would be.
Steve. Natasha. Tony. Probably Fury and Hill, too. Maybe Carter.
"Shit."
Yeah.
-0 0 0-
They re-conned back at the motel room. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Sam could tell by his rigid posture, square shoulders, and unwavering, distant stare that his friend was trying to keep a lid on his emotions. It had been almost three non-Blip years since anyone was able to use the code words against Bucky, and yet still his go-to response when dealing with anything emotionally taxing was to shut down.
"It's too late to try to preserve the timeline." Sam dropped onto the next bed and faced Bucky. They'd already changed things too much. He wished he knew what that meant. What were the repercussions for changing a timeline?
Bucky's gaze remained fixed on a point on the far wall. "Agreed."
They were out-manned. If they tried to take on Pierce, the Strike team, and the Winter Soldier by themselves, things might not go down in their favor. "I think we need to contact the Avengers."
Bucky gave an almost imperceptible nod. "It'll have to be you."
The response surprised Sam. He thought for sure Bucky would jump at a chance to see Steve. Convincing Steve that they were time travelers was going to be hard, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if Bucky were the messenger. As soon as Steve woke up in the hospital, he'd be dead-set on trying to find Bucky.
If this time Bucky happened to just waltz right up to him, Sam was pretty sure Steve would do just about anything Bucky asked.
"I think it should be both of us," Sam countered. "He might think I'm an imposter and he might not buy the time travel story coming from me. I remember how he was after he woke up from the hospital. If you go to him, I think there's a better chance he'll listen. Remember, he might trust me right now, but he's only known me for a short time. He's known you his entire life."
Bucky shook his head. "No."
Sam's anger flared at the flat rebuff. He shoved it down. Getting hot under the collar wouldn't solve anything. "Just no? No discussion. Just no."
Finally, Bucky turned his head to look at Sam. "We can't risk things going south with Stark like they did last time. To take on Hydra and the Winter Soldier with minimal casualties, the Avengers will have to work as a cohesive unit. That's unlikely to happen if Stark finds out I killed his parents."
Ah. Sam took a breath, his earlier anger melting. Bucky was dealing with a lot — this had to be bringing up a whole pile of fresh trauma. If they did things differently this time around, maybe broke the news to Tony in a different way….
"What if we are successful in extricating the younger version of yourself? Tony's going to find out eventually."
Bucky's gaze went distant again, but he gave a slow nod. "We can deal with that once Hydra is out of the way. We can't let what happened last time happen again. There's too much at stake." Bucky's eyes locked on him again. "And I'm not just talking about Hydra."
Sam sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "You don't have to remind me. I know. Ultron. Thanos." It was just the fate of the world that hung in the balance. "Okay. I'll take point with the Avengers. What are you going to do?"
"Surveillance. If Pierce does send the Winter soldier after Steve or any of the other Avengers, I'll do what I can to stop him and give you a heads up."
Sam hoped it didn't come to that, because the younger, brainwashed version of Bucky Barnes was a force to be reckoned with. He held nothing back in a fight, and he was armed to the teeth. If it came down to a fight between older Bucky and younger Bucky, well…
"You're gonna need more than a gun and a couple of knives if you go up against your younger self and the Strike team. Take the shield."
Bucky shook his head. "Thanks, but it's too bulky and conspicuous." He raised his vibranium arm. "This'll do just fine. When you talk to Steve, don't tell him I'm here. We don't need that complication."
Sam frowned at the request. For a man who'd spent the last year grieving the loss of his best friend, Bucky sure seemed hell-bent on avoiding contact with Steve. What was up with that?
-000-
Sam stood outside the hospital, a hood and sunglasses obscuring his face. Steve was under guard inside, recovering from the injuries he sustained in his fight with the Winter Soldier. Sam's younger counterpart was inside as well.
He debated going directly to Tony Stark, who was probably in the best position to do something about Hydra and the Winter Soldier due to the extensive resources at his disposal and the fact that he was not laying in a hospital bed with multiple bullet wounds and a broken orbital socket. However, Bucky was adamant about contacting Steve first, and even though Steve needed to rest and keep his ass horizontal for at least a few more days, Steve was still the best option. He was more likely to listen to Sam's crazy time travel story, and Sam already knew Steve would do anything to save Bucky.
All Sam had to do was wait for his younger counterpart to go to the restroom, which – he looked at his watch — he would do in about 15 minutes. His counterpart would be gone for about 25 minutes, taking the time to check in with Sarah and watch a few minutes of the news coverage about the devastation over the Potomac. Sam intended to use every second of those 25 minutes to nod his way past the guards and convince Steve that time travel was a reality.
As Sam walked through the front doors of the hospital, he tried not to imagine what was happening to the younger Bucky Barnes in that bank building. They had to play it smart. A frontal assault on Hydra, with the Strike team still in place and the Winter Soldier at their disposal, was almost sure to result in disaster. Yet, he couldn't get the image of that chair out of his head. He'd never seen it in person, but the photographs had been enough to incite his imagination and turn his stomach.
Was Bucky in that chair now or had they already wiped him? How much of himself and Steve had he remembered after the helicarriers? What if Hydra wasn't planning on wiping him? What if, instead, they just put a bullet through his brain?
With a heaviness in his stomach that felt like imminent disaster, he slipped into the stairwell. He took the stairs two at a time and waited behind the door, glancing at his watch until it was time. When he heard the murmur of voices, he eased the door open and peered out into the hallway just in time to see his younger self heading away, toward the restroom.
He slipped out of the hoodie and left it on the floor. He'd chosen an outfit as close to what his 2014 counterpart was wearing so, hopefully, the guards wouldn't give him a second look. When his younger self was out of sight, Sam waited until the guards were looking the other way, then slipped into the hallway.
He squared his shoulders and walked directly toward them. "Forgot my phone," he said, putting on his most disarming smile, and breezed past them into the room.
Steve woke when the door clicked shut, and even though Sam knew what to expect, his breath still caught at the sight of that battered face and steel blue eyes that emanated a cosmic level of intensity.
Sam had been so wrapped up in the mission that he didn't stop to think what it would feel like to see Steve again in the flesh, a few feet away. It hurt in a way that brought a sting to his eyes. Shit. If it felt like this for him, how much worse had it been for Bucky following Steve around all this time?
Steve's eyes narrowed, and he shifted in the bed, taking in a pained breath. This wasn't the first time Steve had woken. It had been only a few hours ago when Sam's younger self had been sitting in a chair next to the bed with Marvin Gaye playing on the cell phone, and Steve opened his eyes for the first time after surgery.
At the time, with three serious bullet wounds, a concussion, and a broken orbital socket, Sam hadn't been sure whether Steve would pull through. The medical team hadn't been sure, either, but the serum worked its magic, and Doctor Banner provided something experimental meant to keep a supersoldier under during surgery. Back then, Sam had heard the stories, but even those had not prepared him for the speed at which Steve recovered.
Steve's gaze tracked him as he walked to the bed, and there seemed to be more suspicion than friendship in those eyes. What was that about? How could Steve know—?
Sam scratched at his beard. Damn. That was a stupid detail to overlook, and even recovering from the worst beating of his life, Steve noticed immediately. Of course he would, just like he'd noticed something was off in the elevator the first time Hydra tried to take him out.
Talking straight was always the best tactic when dealing with Steve, so Sam got right to the point. "Hi Steve," he croaked out the greeting, and his cheeks grew hot as he cleared his throat. Why was he so nervous? "It's good to see you. It's been a long time."
Steve tilted his head. "Has it?" The intensity of his gaze did not match the weakness of his voice. Steve was putting up a good front, but Sam knew just how badly Steve was hurting, and the pain wasn't all physical.
"You've noticed my beard's different, haven't you?" Sam dropped into the chair. "I've only got about 20 minutes until the younger version of myself walks through that door—" Sam suppressed a smile as Steve's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "— So I'll get straight to the point. I'm from the future. I know how crazy that sounds, but if you give me a chance, I can prove it to you."
Steve grabbed the remote and raised the head of the bed until he was sitting upright at a slight angle. "Time travel?"
Sam could only wonder what was going through Steve's head. "I'm afraid so. If I was a Hydra imposter, don't you think I would've gotten the beard right and come up with a better story than time travel? When Bucky was beating the crap out of you on the helicarrier, you told him you would be with him until the end of the line. Then you fell into the Potomac. He jumped after you and pulled your tight ass out of the river."
The beeping of the EKG picked up pace and Steve leaned forward with a pained gasp.
"Stop." Sam put a gentle palm on Steve's chest. "I know what he means to you, and that's why I'm here. You were right. He's a good guy, the kind we save, and right now he needs saving. After he pulled you from the river, he went back to the bank building where Hydra kept him to destroy the chair used to wipe his memories and, I suppose, to get a little payback. The first time this happened, he succeeded…and disappeared for two years. This time, they knew he was coming. They set a trap. I'm not sure what they're gonna do with him, but it won't be good. If they don't just kill him—" Stupid! Why did he lead with that? He pushed Steve back, and the fact that he was able to was a testament to how badly Steve was hurting. "I don't think they will. He's been one of their most prized assets for over 70 years—their only functional super soldier." Now wasn't the time to break the news about the five unstable super soldiers in cryo- suspension in Russia.
Steve's expression held enough skepticism to make it clear that he didn't completely believe Sam, or more likely, didn't know what to believe. Sam knew he needed to do more convincing and, he looked at his watch, he had 15 minutes left to get it done. "We met jogging. You were running laps around me, and every time you passed, you said 'on your left.' Romanoff pulled up to pick you up and asked if we could direct her to the museum because she was looking for a fossil. I'm telling the truth. I'm not wearing a photostatic veil, you can check, and if I were going to make up a story to deceive you, it would be a hell of a lot more believable than I'm a time traveler from the future."
Steve's expression was almost unreadable, but there was a fire behind his eyes that Sam had seen a few times before. There was a storm beneath the calm facade.
Steve glanced at the door, and Sam wondered if he was going to call for the guards. If he did, things would get a lot more complicated.
Finally, Steve looked back at him. "When Romanoff and I showed up on your doorstep, what did you make us for breakfast?"
Sam gave into a long sigh and smiled. "After you chased the Winter Soldier?" Sam hoped it had played out the same. "All the eggs I had, sausage, bacon, and toast. You cleaned your plate but were too polite to ask for more. I could tell you were still hungry. I'd read about your metabolism, so I cooked up a stack of pancakes that you polished off in record time."
A muscle twitched in Steve's jaw, and his gaze went distant for a moment. He threw off the covers and reached for the bed rail.
Sam grabbed the rail with both hands and pushed back. "You're in no condition to do anything but lay there and rest." Steve was stubborn, but with Bucky's life in the balance, Sam hoped he would listen to reason.
Steve pushed back, sending the rail clattering down hard enough to make Sam glance at the door and worry about the guards. "Where is he?"
"If you go after them like this, Steve, they'll win, and they'll probably just put a bullet in him." Sam grabbed Steve's shoulder and gave it a squeeze to soften the words, but being direct was the only way to break through that stubborn resolve. "I didn't come here to have you go after them. I came here because I need the Avengers, and the Avengers follow you. Hydra has somebody from the future feeding them information — Jack Rollins. No one knows I followed, and we need to keep it that way."
The door opened. "What the hell?" A slightly younger Sam Wilson stood in the doorway, mouth agape, with two wide-eyed armed guards behind him.
-0 0 0-
"Get him in the chair." The voice belonged to Alexander Pierce and the words were cold and clipped.
Hands grabbed his arms and yanked him upright. His right arm erupted in agony. He screamed and kicked, but the drug robbed his strength. They had been waiting for him. He took eight of them out and tried to retreat, but they had him surrounded and attacked in waves, armed with stun batons and tranquilizer guns. He took hits all over his body, and when he fell forward, the batons dug into his back.
Rough hands slammed backwards into the chair. The chair. It would hurt. He remembered that much, and that it would take away the images flashing through his brain—the man he knew with the golden hair and the blue eyes.
His mission. His target. But he knew him, and this was all wrong.
The chair would take it away before he could find out whether the man in blue had been telling the truth.
"Bucky, you've known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
No!
The figures blurred around him, but he gritted his teeth and surged forward, metal arm whipping out, connecting with flesh. There were grunts and screams and the sting of a stun baton in his right side, but he made it out of the chair. He wouldn't let them take this away from him. He needed to find out how he knew the man.
"You're my friend…. I'm with you 'til the end of the line."
"Secure him, goddamn it!" Pierce shouted, his voice breathy and pained.
Guns fired, and he felt the sting of more tranquilizer pellets in his neck, the back of his thighs, and the flesh of his right arm. The end of a baton connected with the base of his skull, sending a jolt of electricity through him. The room spun, and bitter bile touched the back of his throat.
They grabbed him, lifted him, and shoved him back into the chair. The restraints closed around his arms, and the metal halo came down. He arched away from it as his vision dimmed and the drug stole the last of his strength. When the electricity hit, the pain drove away all thought, searing through the images of the golden-haired man and leaving emptiness in its wake.
-000-
The Avengers assembled, even Thor, who still had both of his eyes and hadn't yet experienced the tragedies that would temporarily undo him. Sam tried not to stare, but seeing Natasha and Tony in the flesh felt surreal. This was now a new timeline, so there was no guarantee either of them would die before their time. Still, he itched to say something.
What was the etiquette for breaking the news to someone that you knew the date and manner of their potential death?
"I figured out time travel?" Tony paced the lounge of the tower and threw a cocky glance over the other Avengers. "That settles it! I'm underpaid!"
Sam couldn't help but smile. Despite all that it happened between him, Steve, Bucky, and Tony, he knew this overly confident, narcissistic version of Tony wouldn't last… at least not completely. The man would mellow and mature over the next decade, but he'd never lose his edgy wit.
The Falcon version of Sam was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest. After an initial minor freak out that was embarrassing to watch, he'd grown quiet. Being in the room with a doppelgänger was unnerving.
Sam had envisioned several different reactions to his time travel story. When Steve limped in with him in tow, after having called a meeting of the Avengers, Sam wished he had taken a photo of the faces in the room. Their expressions were priceless.
What he hadn't expected was how easy it would be to convince them that he was from the future. Stark and Banner gave him the once over and confirmed that he was genetically identical to his younger self. Banner mentioned something about the length of a thing on his chromosomes called telomeres and how they compared to Falcon. The explanation was full of technobabble but seemed to convince Banner that Sam was, in fact, who he said he was.
"It's hard to believe," Sam's younger counterpart muttered with a slight shake of his head and furrowed brow. All heads turned to the newest, unofficial Avenger, and he looked up with a slack jaw and narrow eyes. "He almost killed me twice, and you're telling us, the way it happened in your timeline, he gets his memories back and becomes a regular guy hanging out in Brooklyn?"
Sam nodded. He fudged a few of the details, because if he explained that he and Bucky were friends and handled a couple of missions together, Steve would suspect Bucky was the associate Sam alluded to when explaining how he ended up traveling back in time. He didn't want to lie to Steve and pretend he had traveled alone, but Bucky wanted to fly under the radar on this one, and Sam understood why. If Steve knew that future Bucky, with all of his memories, was nearby, he would be gung-ho on seeing him, and that would be a delay and a distraction they could not afford.
This Steve was different from the one a decade from now. This Steve was only a couple of years out of the ice and just found out the lifelong best friend he'd watched die was still alive. Sam remembered how desperate Steve had been to find Bucky, and he hadn't even known at the time whether the man he knew still existed.
Still, he'd have to call Bucky into this eventually. They needed his expertise on Hydra base operations and manpower. Sam glanced at Tony, who was still pacing and muttering to Bruce about time travel. They really couldn't afford that distraction before taking on Hydra. After they took down the remnants of Hydra and rescued the Bucky of this timeline, they'd figure out a way to break the news to Tony, hopefully in a way that didn't have him spiraling into a murderous rage.
"You have the benefit of foresight," Steve said, leaning against the arm of the couch and folding his arms. "We've got to move soon to get to him before they relocate him." 'Or do something worse' remained unspoken but hovering in the air. "What's the play?"
Sam nodded his appreciation. Other than Natasha, the Avengers didn't know him. Steve was making it clear that he trusted him.
Sam gave an appreciative nod. "My associate's been keeping tabs on the bank building they're using as their base of operations. He's still there. They probably wiped his memories again…" Steve coiled tighter into himself on the arm of the couch, and Sam gave him a sympathetic tilt of the head. "I'm sorry, Steve, but he probably won't remember you again. Any progress you made breaking through to him on the helicarrier is likely lost. If we get him back, we're gonna have to start from scratch again."
"So, Falcon from the future," Natasha leaned forward in the armchair, studying him as though he were a puzzle to unravel, "Who is this mysterious associate of yours?"
"I'm not the Falcon, anymore." Sam took a breath.
"Oh?" she cocked an eyebrow.
"It's not important. Just call me Sam. You can call him"–he jabbed a thumb at his 2014 counterpart, whose chin snapped up– "Falcon to make it less confusing." Now was not the time to explain how he became Captain America. He wasn't sure there would be a good time for that conversation. "My associate is an expert on Hydra." Now that the Avengers were assembled and they were going to have to come up with a plan quickly, he'd have to reach out to Bucky. "He's…" Antisocial? Reclusive? Broody? "…a bit of an introvert." He tapped his ear comm. "Hey there, White Wolf, the Avengers are assembled. What's your status?"
"How nice of you to check in. I've been on this rooftop for eight hours. I'm hungry, cold, and I have to take a dump. Oh, and they're all still inside as far as I can tell. I haven't seen anybody leave, but there are blind spots I can't see."
Sam smiled at the grumpiness and Bucky's tone. "You're hangry, aren't you? Man, you gotta pack more protein bars."
"I'm not angry."
"Hangry, not angry. H-A-N-G-R-Y."
"That's not a word."
"It's a word. It means you're grumpy because you're hungry, and you are. Look it up on your phone."
"Whatever."
Sam wished he could see the consternation on Bucky's face right now, but he had the bemused expressions on the Avenger's faces to enjoy instead. "You wish you had Red Wing right now, don't you?"
"No."
"Don't be stubborn. I know he's grown on you."
"You know it's a machine, right?"
Teasing Bucky was always fun, but they were on a timeline. "The Avengers are on board. How soon can you come to Stark Tower?"
"How about I don't?"
"You've got intel we need to plan the operation. Don't be a baby. Get your ass over here."
"Tony doesn't know, right?"
Sam grimaced, swallowing a lump of guilt as he looked at Tony to see the man— and everyone else—staring at him. The com volume was too low for anyone to pick up… even Steve, he hoped. "No."
"How is Steve?"
"Stubborn as usual." Sam knew Bucky was probably feeling a mountain of fresh guilt about putting bullet holes into Steve and pummeling his face into an unrecognizable mess. "He's fine. You know that."
Steve straightened, his eyes turning to slits.
Shit! Sam recognized that look. The man was suspicious.
Maybe he should just tell them all now that his mysterious associate was Bucky Barnes. Or he could wait and see the look on Steve's face when Bucky walked in. That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
If he told them now, Steve would probably be an insufferable mess. Yeah. It made sense to wait, and if he happened to get a bit of entertainment out of the process, well that was just a bonus. After two years on the run because of Steve and Bucky, he deserved a little payback.
"I've got something," Bucky huffed. "Stand by."
The line went quiet for a couple of minutes, while Sam waited with gritted teeth, ignoring Tony's background chatter with Bruce.
Finally, Bucky said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
-0 0 0-
When Bucky saw the black van pull out of the underground parking garage and turn the corner, he had only a few seconds to make a tactical decision— follow it, or stay and keep an eye on the bank building. He couldn't tell whether the Soldier was inside the van, but if Hydra was on the move, he needed to figure out where they were going.
He shoved the binoculars into his pack, slipped on his ski mask, and took off after the van. If he ran too fast, he'd draw attention to himself. Instead, he used the cover of darkness to leap between rooftops, keeping an eye on the van below.
When the vehicle took a turn, he had to scale down the side of the building to follow. When it stopped at a red light, he adjusted his pace. Feeling conspicuous in the ski mask, he reached into his pack and swapped it for the baseball cap, pulling up the hood of his jacket to help hide his face further.
If he could get a bug on the van, he could keep ears on them even if he lost sight of them. Sam may have grumbled about the delay following Rollins back from 2024, but the extra minutes gathering equipment was paying off. Bucky withdrew a magnetic filtering mic from his pack, and when the light turned green and the van pulled into the intersection, he flicked it at the vehicle like he used to skip rocks off water and watched with satisfaction as it hit its mark on the side of the van. It was dark and small enough that it should remain unnoticed.
He paired his ear comm and phone to the device, but most of the audio he picked up was background noise—the crunch of tires on the street and the sound of the engine. The occupants inside were surprisingly quiet with only occasional chatter.
One of them mentioned Project Hindsight.
The van slowed and pulled to the curb near a coffee shop. Bucky stopped and turned toward the window of the storefront nearest him, pretending to be fascinated by the display of books and magazines.
He stopped breathing when he spotted the familiar figure walking across the street. Pepper Potts. There was no way that was a coincidence. Why was she in DC? If Hydra was after her, it had to be to get to Tony.
Pepper was only 40 feet from the coffee shop when the rear doors of the van opened. Rumlow and Rollins hopped out, with Rumlow looking as smug as ever. Bucky clenched his vibranium fist and imagined smashing it into that face. If they put up a fight, he might just get his wish.
Bucky was pretty sure it was the younger Rollins on the team, but he had to be careful regardless, because either man would recognize him, and he couldn't use any future tech or reveal his metal arm without tipping them off.
He turned his back to them, far enough away that he didn't draw their attention. The serum gave him a sensory edge in the darkness. He turned the corner, keeping an ear out for sounds of the struggle as he slipped back into the ski mask, grabbed a gun, and set the pack next to a dumpster.
He broke into a run a moment before Pepper yelped, moving faster than he had in a long time. With the element of surprise and enhanced speed and strength, he relieved both men of their handguns and shoved them at the other armed strike members inside the van just as one opened fire. He almost used his metal arm as a shield in reflex but caught himself and spun at the last moment. The bullet grazed his temple.
That was way too close. He returned fire and placed himself in front of Pepper as she dashed toward the coffee shop. The Strike team bailed. Rumlow and Rollins leapt into the van, closing the rear doors as it sped off and turned the corner with a squeal. He felt a moment of dismay that they hadn't put up more of a fight, but then the van clipped a parked car and drove it into the side of a building.
"Shit!" He was pretty sure the car was empty, but if it wasn't, the occupant was almost certainly injured. He ran up to check and breathed a relieved sigh when he confirmed there was no one inside. The entire front end of the car was inside the building, and Bucky peeked in to make sure there were no casualties. It was an office, quiet and dark, after hours, thankfully.
He was just about to leave when he heard a noise, something between a squeak and whimper coming from around the corner. God, he hoped it wasn't a child. The sound was weaker the second time but more drawn out, and he followed it.
He found the source beneath the pile of fresh debris from the other side of the wall. "Damn."
-0 0 0-
It was dark, and still there was no sign of Bucky. Sam tried to reach him several times on the comm and burner phone to no avail. He kept checking his phone every two minutes, hoping for a response. If he didn't get one soon, he would send one of the drones to triangulate Bucky's position via the ear comm.
Tony ordered a stack of pizza for the group, and Sam suggested a couple of extra pies since he knew Bucky would be starving by the time he arrived. The man with the supercharged metabolism really needed to learn how to pack snacks. Everyone lounged around munching, except Steve, who stood ramrod straight facing the large window overlooking the city.
Sam slipped the phone into his pocket and walked up to Steve. "We'll save him."
Steve looked at him, his eyes sad and his lips curving upward in an unconvincing smile. "You said he gets his memories back, but what's he like? Is he…" Steve's shoulders sagged and his words faded with a sigh.
"I don't know what he was like back in 1945," Sam placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, "but he's remarkably okay." Not great, but Bucky was getting better. Little by little, he was learning to uncoil his defenses and connect with people, mostly Sam, Sarah, and the boys. "When we get your Bucky back, it won't be easy. There's a rough road ahead, I won't lie or sugarcoat it. I wasn't there for his recovery. He spent two years on the run, doing all that on his own. He doesn't talk about it. He did get some help to free his mind from the codewords. I don't know what he went through, but I know it wasn't easy." He huffed a bitter laugh at his inadequate choice of words.
Those two years must've been hell for Bucky, and when they finally found him, there'd been no time for comfort or a soft landing. Steve had spent two years desperately searching for Bucky, and when he finally found him, the whole world was trying to kill him, and Steve's first real conversation with him ended up being an interrogation.
Hopefully this time, they could do better.
"Sir, my security protocols are being overridden," Jarvis announced.
"Jarvis, what the hell? We talked about this after the last time!" Tony lamented, drink in hand.
"Does this mean the guy is here?" Banner asked from the sofa, munching on a slice of pizza.
Thor was sprawled in the armchair, Mjölnir on the floor next to him. He leaned forward, apparently delighted by the prospect. "I most certainly hope so. I am eager to meet this second traveler through time."
Sam's ear comm came to life with Bucky's voice. "I'm on my way up, Sam. Make sure no one shoots me, please, and by no one, I mean Romanoff."
Sam breathed out the knot of worry that had taken hold of his chest and slapped Steve on the arm. "He's here." He jerked his chin toward Natasha. "Don't shoot him."
The elevator dinged, and everyone turned to look as the doors opened. The figure that stepped into the lounge was unrecognizable even to Sam, and the only way he was sure it was Bucky was by the gloved hands, casual shoulders, and even stroll. He was dressed all in black, with a cell phone in one hand and a black bag in the other. Sunglasses and a baseball cap obscured the upper half of his face.
Sam threw a glance at Steve. The man's back was stiff and every line on his brow was visible. He was practically vibrating, a desperate shimmer in his eyes that gave Sam a twinge of guilt in his chest.
Steve couldn't know that this was Bucky—could he? Could he recognize the jaw? That distinctive mouth? Or did he just achingly hope that it was?
Tony set his drink on the bar. "Jarvis, tomorrow you and I are going over those security protocols."
Bucky pocketed his phone and dropped the bag on the floor. "Your security protocols are a decade out of date."
Bucky took off his gloves and stuffed them in his jacket pocket. All eyes snapped to the black vibranium hand. When the sunglasses and baseball cap came off, Sam noticed the gash on the left side of Bucky's face and was just about to ask him about it when a strangled sound ripped out of Steve.
Okay, so maybe not giving Steve a heads up was a dick move, Sam berated himself, but he wasn't sure Steve's reaction would have been any different even with a warning.
"Bucky?" Steve croaked, taking two steps forward and then stopping, his jaw slack and arms limp at his side.
Bucky gave a lopsided smile and jerked his head toward his vibranium arm. "More or less." He walked toward Steve, never quite making eye contact, and slapped him on the arm. "It's good to see you, Pal."
Steve reached out, but before he made contact, Bucky swiveled away, tilting his head upward to take in the vaulted ceilings. "Nice. I never got a chance to see the Tower from the inside."
Oomph. Sam felt that rebuff in his soul. Steve dropped his hand, eyes shimmering, and looked at Sam with a world of pain and confusion on his face.
What the hell is that about? Sam wondered. That certainly wasn't the reaction he expected from Bucky, who had spent the last year grieving Steve and talking about him as though the man had never done a wrong thing a day in his life.
"Holy shit." Clint approached Bucky with surprising casualness and extended his hand with a smile. "You know your name's up on a memorial wall at the SHIELD Academy? It's damn good to meet you. I guess they're going to have to take it off since you're alive."
Bucky stared at the hand for a moment as the lines on his face softened. His lips twitched upward, and he shook Clint's hand. "Technically, we've met before. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Hydra is on the move, maybe going after people close to Avengers. Get your family under protection."
"I don't know who you met," Tony said, "but it wasn't him. The man doesn't have a family."
Oh, shit. It was at that moment that Sam realized no one ever told Bucky Clint's family had been a secret. From the grimace on Bucky's face, it was obvious he recognized he might have just put his foot in his mouth.
Bucky cleared his throat. "My mistake."
"Wait?" Tony leaned against the bar and grabbed his drink. "You don't have a family, do you?"
Clint and Natasha exchanged uncomfortable glances. Finally, Clint sighed. "Well, if there was any doubt before, there isn't now. You two are definitely from the future. My family is off the books, not even in the computer. They're safer where they are."
"You shittin' me?" Tony took a gulp of his drink and set the glass back down. "For real? A family? Does that mean…kids, too? A dog? Spill the beans, Legolas."
Bucky gave one an apologetic tilt of his head. "Sorry, man. I thought everybody knew, but since I owe you one now, here's a tip." He tapped his ear with one finger, "You might want to look into some ear protection."
"Shit, really?" Clint looked at Sam, and Sam gave an affirming nod. "Thanks, man. I will."
"Ooh! Ooh!" Tony raised his hand. "What about me? This is better than going to a fortune teller."
Bucky fidgeted and caught Sam's eye. "We've got time for all that later," he grumbled, turning away. "Right now, we have to deal with Hydra."
Steve took a step closer, his eyes about as big and round as a lost puppy. "Bucky, how did you—"
Bucky turned back to Stark, his back to Steve. "The Strike team made a play for Pepper."
"What?" Tony pulled out his phone.
"She's fine. I intercepted," Bucky said.
"Is that what happened to your face?" Tony asked distractedly as he dialed. "Pepper, are you—"
Sam could hear Pepper's voice, which sounded remarkably calm, but he couldn't make out the words.
"Why didn't you call me… Oh…" Tony glanced at his phone screen and swiped. "You did. Sorry. Happy? Great. The police? A man in black. Uh-huh. Black jacket? Jeans? Black gloves? Short hair? Yep, I think I know who it was, and I just moved him to the top of the Christmas list. You want me to send a drone suit as a body guard?... I did get rid of them…in Malibu, but I couldn't exactly blow up things in the middle of Manhattan, and isn't it a good thing I've kept a few around?... You sure? See you soon." His face went hard. "This won't happen again."
Tony pocketed his phone and looked at Bucky. "Seems I owe you one."
Bucky shook his head. "You really don't."
Sam could read between the lines of Bucky's terse response. Fortunately, the others didn't have the context, except for Natasha and Steve, who exchanged quick glances. Sam wasn't sure whether Steve knew at this moment that Bucky was responsible for the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark, but it was obvious from the expressions on both of their faces that they suspected something.
Now certainly wasn't the time to bring it up. They couldn't afford to have Tony lose his shit.
"Bucky," Steve took a step closer, his voice more insistent, "how did you survive that fall? What did they do to you?"
Bucky moved toward one of the pizza boxes on the counter. If Sam hadn't spent a few months figuring out the subtleties of Bucky's many shades of stoicism, he'd have been convinced Bucky couldn't be bothered to give Steve the time of day. But he'd grown to know Bucky well enough to notice the subtle clench of his jaw and the way he moved, with his hands close and his shoulders down.
Bucky's indifference was a façade, but Sam couldn't figure out why the hell he was giving Steve the cold shoulder. It was painful to watch.
Was it resentment because Steve left? Maybe Bucky had unresolved anger. The man sure as hell wasn't good at processing his emotions. His go-to method of coping was repression. Sam didn't know if that was because of the time in which he grew up or because Hydra tortured the emotions out of him…or both.
Bucky lifted the lid of one of the boxes and glanced around the room. "I'm starving. Anyone mind?"
Sam waved a hand in the air. "We ordered extra just for you. Help yourself, man. Maybe you'll relax a little once you have food in your stomach. There's beer in the fridge."
"Thanks." Bucky set a plate on the counter, piled it high with pizza, and retrieved the beer from the fridge. He leaned against the counter, devoured a slice, drained half the beer bottle, then said, "Hydra's up to something. My guess is, they made a play for Pepper to get to you, Tony. Maybe they're trying to destabilize the Avengers, cause distractions. Operation Insight failed, but they managed to avoid some of the damage that occurred originally. Romanoff never got the chance to release all of their secrets. That should be the first thing on our agenda. We need to get all the information out there so the rats start jumping ship."
Bucky set his beer down and looked at Natasha. Sam couldn't quite read his murky expression, but it was obvious he was mulling over his next words. She held his gaze, stiffening in a way that made it obvious she wasn't completely over their previous encounter. Sam couldn't blame her. That version of Bucky had been downright terrifying.
"How's the shoulder?" Bucky scratched the back of his head and scrunched his nose. It never ceased to amaze Sam how Bucky's features could transform from terrifying to lost puppy in the blink of an eye.
The man still had a mountain of guilt weighing him down.
It was obvious Natasha picked up on it in the way her shoulders relaxed and she almost smiled. "It aches a little."
Bucky fidgeted, almost leaning forward as though his ribs were bothering him. Sam wondered if he sustained more serious injuries during his fight with the Strike team. He wouldn't put it past Bucky to keep quiet about something like that.
Sam was just about to ask when Bucky gave one of his rare, disarming smiles and shrugged. "I'm sorry about that, not that I had any choice in the matter, but I'm really glad I didn't kill you. You end up taking one for the team in a big way, and a lot of people, including myself, owe you a debt of gratitude." He cleared his throat and looked at Tony. "You too, by the way."
"Oh?" Tony perked up. "Do I save New York again, or something?"
"Something like that," Bucky muttered, throwing Sam another glance.
"What about me?" Falcon piped up. He'd been so quiet up to that point. Sam was reminded how starstruck he'd been by the other Avengers, even if he tried to play it cool. "Don't I even get an 'I'm sorry' for the steering wheel, or, you know, kicking me off the edge to my almost death?"
Bucky leveled an icy stare at Falcon that made the other man hunch his shoulders ever so slightly. Sam shook his head. He could tell by the subtle twitch at the edge of Bucky's mouth that he was debating messing with Sam's younger and stupider self.
"Hey," Sam berated his junior, "cut him some slack. He didn't have a choice. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park for him, either."
Bucky took a breath and said, "I'm sorry, Sam…" He told Falcon, "…really sorry you can't drive for shit."
Falcon glared while Sam smiled, but it was Thor's guffaw that filled the room. The Asgardian shot to his feet and descended on Bucky, grabbing his hand and giving it a few solid pumps, then slapping his shoulder hard enough to make Bucky fight to keep his balance. "I like a man with wit. If you are a friend of Steve Rogers, I would be honored to call you friend, as well. I am Thor Odinson of Asgard."
Bucky nodded with a lopsided smile. "I know who you are. You helped save the world, too."
There'd be time for explaining Thanos later, but right now Sam really wanted to find out what Bucky was hiding. He walked up and reached out to open Bucky's jacket, but Bucky slid away fast enough to make it clear he was hiding something.
"What gives?" Sam wasn't going to let him get away with whatever he was trying to get away with. "You take a hit during your encounter with the Strike team?"
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Steve straighten. Since the moment Bucky stepped off the elevator, Steve hadn't taken his eyes off him.
"No, other than the bullet graze." Bucky tapped the gash on his forehead and held his arm close to his left side.
Sam was sure he could almost make out a lump, and he was pretty sure it moved. "You're hiding something."
Bucky shook his head. "I'm not hiding anything."
He was definitely hiding something, and whatever it was, it just made a sound.
"Let me take a look." Sam took a step forward, and Bucky took a step back.
"Back off, man. I'm fine," Bucky insisted.
The ding of the elevator interrupted the moment. When the doors opened, Pepper and Happy hurried out.
"She's fine, boss," Happy said, "but we couldn't find the guys that did it."
Tony rushed for Pepper, but stopped an inch away from her, acting casual, though his face betrayed him. "Maybe we should've let you keep Extremis a bit longer. You could have taken out those Hydra goons all by yourself."
Shook her head. "No thanks." She looked at Bucky and gave him a slow look up and down, then her eyes narrowed. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the guy that stopped them from grabbing me."
Bucky dropped his gaze to his feet, then looked up with a crooked smile as she walked toward him. He extended his hand. "I'm Bucky."
"Well, Bucky," she ignored his hand and hugged him. "Thank you. You could have stuck around."
Something mewed, and Bucky leaned back as Pepper dropped her gaze to his jacket.
Sam knew Bucky was hiding something. "What's up, man. What have you got?"
Bucky's shoulders slumped. He sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, looking down with a tender smile. "You couldn't stay asleep just a little while longer?" He reached in and pulled out a filthy, mottled gray-brown fuzzy thing and cradled it against his chest as it squirmed and meowed. He looked downright embarrassed as he gazed up at the others. "The Strike team crashed into a parked car during their getaway. I went to see if anyone was hurt. No one was, but I heard something. Found this one. The mom and a sibling were dead beneath the rubble. I didn't find any more kittens."
Of all the things he thought Bucky might be hiding, a kitten wasn't even close to being on the list. Sam couldn't help but smile at the incredulous look on the faces of his younger self and Natasha, as if they were trying to reconcile the cold, efficient assassin with the guy in front of them who just pulled out a street kitten from his jacket pocket.
This was priceless. Sam looked at his phone and snapped a quick picture, earning a scowl from Bucky. "You keep this up, I'm going to start calling you soft soldier." Another thought occurred to him. "I thought dogs and cats didn't get along." At the confused expressions of the people around him, he added, "he apparently picked up the nickname White Wolf during his time. . . in recovery."
Bucky shrugged as he scratched beneath the kitten's chin. "What was I supposed to do? Leave her there to die? When I put her in my pocket, she fell asleep. I was going to come here for a debrief and then find an emergency vet and drop her off."
"Don't you dare." Pepper held out her hands and Bucky handed her the tiny creature. She cuddled it against her chest, and it promptly scampered up her shirt and nestled in the crook of her neck. "Let's get you cleaned up," she cooed the kitten. "Happy, see if you can find a vet that will make a house call to give our guest a once over."
"Right on it." Happy nodded at Tony, then headed into the elevator and left.
Natasha and Clint walked up to Pepper, and Clint leaned forward to scratch at the little fur ball's head. The kitten batted at his hand and gently licked the tip of his finger. Sam had to admit it was adorable, but the creature was in desperate need of a bath.
Sam turned to Bucky. "I can't believe you kept that kitten inside your jacket pocket. You're going to have to dry clean that thing now."
Bucky shrugged. "I spent hours on the filthy rooftop getting crapped on by birds."
"We'll get that dry cleaned for you." Pepper placed her hand on Bucky's arm. "May I?"
Sam stifled a smile at the surprised look at Bucky's face as he slipped out of his jacket and handed it to Pepper, stammering an awkward, "Thank you."
"This little cutie can't be more than a few weeks old," Clint said, then cooed at the kitten. "What are we going to do with you?" He asked the little furball as it rolled on its back on Pepper's shoulder and swiped at his hand.
"We'll have to find a home, but in the meantime I think we're going to need supplies." Pepper glanced at the ceiling. "Jarvis, will you order a litter box, food, and a cat bed for delivery tomorrow?"
"Oh no!" Tony put up his hands and shook his head. "I'm not having some filthy disgusting litter box in the tower."
Pepper scratched at the kitten and glared at Tony. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just temporary."
"If I had time, I'd make something to clean up after that flea bag, but I don't," Tony said. "Jarvis, make it an automatic litter thing…" He pointed a finger at Bucky. "If that thing infests us all with fleas—"
"We'll get some flea preventative," Pepper interrupted, walking up to Bucky and eyeing him critically. "We've got to do something about that nasty gash. You're not supposed to block bullets with your forehead."
Bucky ducked his head and smiled sheepishly. "I'll have to remember that from now on." He probed at the gash with his fingertips. "It's fine, though, barely a scratch." He walked back to his plate and worked on another slice of pizza.
"Man…"
Sam looked over to see his junior self shaking his head. He tried to imagine what he would be thinking. It wasn't too hard. He remembered, with a flush of regret, telling Steve that Bucky wasn't the kind you saved. He hadn't fully believed back then that Bucky had no control over his actions. Maybe the guy had been brainwashed, he'd thought, but he still made a choice to kill people.
He knew better now.
"You're telling me you went from psycho killer to guy that can't leave a kitten to fend for itself?" Falcon asked.
Sam noticed the almost imperceptible tightening around Bucky's eyes and thought back to his own careless comments. He enjoyed giving Bucky a hard time, but not here. Not now. This was a whole shit show of reopened wounds for Bucky. "Cut him some slack," he told his younger self. "The guy literally didn't have a choice."
Steve edged up to Bucky, tense and hesitant, and directed his gaze to the dog tags hanging around his neck. "You still have those?"
Bucky gave a single, curt nod. "They were found in a box in the bunker where I was kept."
"Sam says you got your memories back?"
Bucky took a swig of his beer and looked at Sam. "Yes."
He was avoiding Steve's gaze, and Sam still couldn't figure out what that was about.
Steve took a step closer. "You know me?"
Bucky gave Steve a sideways glance before apparently deciding he needed to inspect the label on the beer bottle. "Yeah. I read about you in the museum. You're Steve Rogers." His lips twitched, and he took a breath as he grabbed another slice of pizza. "Yeah, I know you. You're the punk that got paint on my favorite shirt just before my date with Delores."
A smile broke over Steve's face so quickly it almost hurt for Sam to watch. This was the Steve that learned only a couple of weeks ago that the best friend he thought died in 1945 was still alive.
Steve jerked his chin toward Bucky's metal arm. "That was you on the roof?"
Bucky nodded. "Saving your ass from mine?" He took a swig of his beer. "Yes."
"And outside Sam's apartment?"
"Yep."
Natasha took a step forward and placed her hands on her hips. "And were you the one that blew up the planes outside the Triskelion? I reviewed the footage, and it wasn't the other guy."
What? Sam hadn't heard about that and from the furtive glance Bucky gave him, Sam knew the answer was yes.
"It was." Bucky picked at the label on his beer bottle.
"Why the hell would you do that?" Falcon asked.
Sam had to think about it for a few seconds, but he'd known Bucky a lot longer than his younger self had, and he knew what happened originally. Still it would've been nice for Bucky to clue him in. "He did it to save lives."
Bucky set his beer on the counter and shoved his hands in his pockets as he swept his gaze quickly around the group, finally settling on Natasha. "The first time around, they sent me to take care of the situation. I killed thirteen good men who would have given Steve and Sam valuable air support."
Pepper set the kitten on the floor and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a washcloth and starting the faucet. Sam smiled as Clint immediately intercepted the furball.
"So no air support, no need for anybody to die?" Bruce asked.
Bucky gave a curt nod. "That about covers it."
"You all can keep up the interrogation," Pepper said as she approached Bucky with a wet rag, "but he took a bullet saving my life tonight." She dabbed at his forehead as he gave her a wide-eyed look, his eyes occasionally darting to Tony. "That's deeper than it looks," she said with a frown. "You might need stitches."
He pulled back slightly and offered her a shy, shaky smile. "I've had much worse."
"Not very reassuring." She glanced over her shoulder at Tony. "We've got a spare room for him and future Sam?"
"In this old place?" Tony waved a hand. "Naah, we're totally cramped on space."
"There's not gonna be much time for sleeping." Bucky gave Pepper's hand an appreciative pat, but the look he gave Sam was all business. "Hydra's moving fast, and they've got an advantage in this timeline. Originally, when Hydra and SHIELD fell, they weren't able to hide in the shadows because Romanoff released everything to the public. They scrambled. This time Hydra took control of SHIELD's east African headquarters, the Tree House, and a few other sites. They're no doubt shoring up more now, and they'll keep doing that until we can shine the light on all of it. We're going to have to plan our attack. We need to move as soon as possible, preferably before they mobilize the Winter Soldier, because I really don't want to have to shoot myself."