Note: Just a friendly reminder that my character's opinions don't always match my own. Bucky grew up in a society where people didn't often seek out mental health experts, and he hasn't gotten over that.
Bucky woke, sore.
He tried to shift around to relieve the annoying pinch in his side, the dull ache in his collarbone. His arms were too heavy to lift - no. Not heavy. Tied down.
The smell of antiseptic brought him around, and he knew where he was: strapped to the lab table, back in the prison camp just outside of Azzano. They were sticking needles in him, asking him things he couldn't understand. He opened his mouth to curse at them, but it was full. There was something hard between his lips, shoved down into his throat.
Dimly, he heard high-pitched beeping that had never been in the lab, but blind panic struck through him like a bolt of lightning. He tugged sharply at the bindings, heard something snap. His right arm was free, and he clawed at the gag in his mouth, coughing and retching as it came out and out. He dragged in air that hurt going in and going out. Someone yelled above him. Hands tried to push him back down. He shoved them away, heard a crash of equipment.
Something had been rubbed into his eyes - a clear gel he couldn't blink away. Bucky sat up, pushing past the drag of wires and tubes. He heard his own breath sawing out of him, almost sobs as he ripped wire after wire away until he was finally, finally free.
His eyes cleared.
The hospital room around him was in shambles.
Hospital. He was in a new century, New York was blasted to bits, they'd won the war, he lived in a superhero frat house, Steve was...
Steve was...
He couldn't think it, knew he barely had enough control of his sanity without adding that.
Bucky hunched over, an arm wrapped around his aching chest, breathing hard but still feeling like he wasn't getting enough air. Shaking. His bare legs stuck out of a flimsy-ass hospital gown.
Focusing on his quaking knees, he tried to control his breathing. He'd learned a couple things from his forced SHIELD therapy sessions. He tried to be in the moment, here, and not back in a German prison camp. Everyone who had been there was dead, anyway, or was old enough to have one foot out the door. There was no reason to feel this way, to be so frightened he shook...
"Hey."
Bucky glanced up. A black man about his age - his perceived age - stood, leaning against the door frame to the hospital room. His arms were down by his sides, nothing in his hands. "Mind if I come in?" the man asked.
"Free country," Bucky rasped. The breathing tube had torn his throat to shreds. He didn't know who this guy was, or why Bucky was in what looked like a civilian hospital room and not SHIELD medical - maybe he worked for SHIELD. "My team?"
Something like approval flickered in the man's eyes. "Safe. Your pal, Stark, had to get his nose put back into place, but you were the worst off. You're in Kings County hospital - you've been unconscious for two days."
Two days. Bucky glanced around the hospital room, the broken equipment and untethered IV lines that were dripping fluid on the floor. "Did I... hurt anyone?"
"No, man. But there are a lot of scared nurses. You have more tranqs running in your system than can down an elephant." He took another cautious step closer, then held out his hand. "Sam Wilson."
Bucky unwrapped his hand from his side and shook it. There was a trickle of blood from his wrist where he'd ripped out the IV, but the wound was already clotting. "James Barnes, call me Bucky." His throat was clearing a little, as was some of the fuzziness in his head. His own mouth tasted like shit, and his lips were chapped. He was becoming aware of his surroundings again - from the sounds of breathing in the hallway, and the shuffled feet, he suspected the medical staff were hiding just out of view.
He turned to look out the window, seeing black night.
"It's three in the morning," Sam said to his unasked question. It also explained why none of his team were there. "They told me you just got out of ICU."
Bucky started to reply, but it was cut off by a coughing fit. And oh shit, that hurt. Definitely working with busted ribs on top of the collarbone. He tasted something salty in the back of his throat he didn't care to think about, too.
"You alright?" Sam asked. But he didn't move closer. Smart man.
Bucky nodded, waving him away. "Why's a head shrink doing the late shift?"
Sam grinned to show a gap between his two front teeth, but he didn't dispute he was a loony doc. "I don't work here - I work at the VA. Just visiting a buddy." He let his eyes roam up Bucky. "He doesn't like needles very much either."
I like needles just fine, Bucky wanted to say, but the lie wouldn't come. He looked away.
"Anything you need to make yourself more comfortable?" Sam asked. "Water?"
"Pants. It's a little drafty." Plus, he'd make less of a scene if he had to run out of here in a hurry.
Again, he got the impression Sam knew what he was thinking. "I'll see what I can do."
Someone cleared his throat at the door. Sam glanced over his shoulder, then nodded at the man in a lab coat. "The doctor wants to see you, if you're up for it." Which was nice, the way he phrased it. Like Bucky had a choice.
Sam must have read the look on his face. "No one here will force you to do anything, though by the way you're protecting your ribs you're still in a world of hurt. They can give you something to help."
"No needles," he said. "No pills. No..." His jaw tightened. "Surprises."
"No surprises," Sam repeated, like Bucky was being reasonable and wasn't completely off his nut. "You got it."
Then Bucky's sharp hearing caught the first clipped complaints coming from down the hall.
"Remind me again who's name is on the burn unit? Okay, yes, it's technically my father, but I'm not just any visitor. We're a team. The Avengers, maybe you've heard of us...? I should have been-Oh, c'mon, he's Captain America. Hurt a flag burner, yes. A nurse, no."
Bucky smiled, despite himself. And Tony Stark appeared at the door, still arguing with an official looking woman, but walking straight into the room like he owned it, anyway.
Tony stopped short as he saw Bucky up and awake. "Go grab a meal, they said. No way he's waking up for at least thirty-six hours, they said." Tony looked like hell, with double black eyes. There was a white bandage over his nose, with more purple bruises peeping out.
Steve had brought the shield down right over Iron Man's face...
"Did you get a nose job?" Bucky asked, realizing he was staring. Even slightly bruised and swollen, Tony cut a dapper figure in the hospital room.
"Needed one. This is LA, you're not hip unless you're getting your nose redone every five years," Tony replied, and tilted his head to Sam, a question in his eyes.
"Sam's been keeping me company."
"Mr. Stark," Sam nodded, then looked at Bucky. "I'll get the doctor."
Tony hesitated as Sam left as if he wasn't sure of his place, but Bucky gestured him closer and grabbed his hand with the one not wrapped around his own ribs. "How's the team?" he asked, needing to hear it again.
"Worried about you," Tony said. "The mansion's... a total loss. We got swarmed, but Clint and Natasha came out with superficial cuts. Thor's peachy, and Bruce de-hulked halfway to Sacramento, but he'll be okay."
Bucky nodded, his head swimming. He wanted to ask about Steve, but he didn't dare. With his hand still gripping Tony's he tapped out basic Morse Code. WHY NOT SHIELD MEDICAL?
"You gave us a scare, old man," Tony said. The skin around his eyes pinched, but he dipped his head in a slight nod. His hand tapped out a reply on the inside of Bucky's wrist. JARVIS COMPROMISED WITH SHIELD CODES.
Well. Shit.
"So do I get to tell you I told you so?" Bucky asked. "Taunting the bad guy's an idiot move-" He cut off as he inhaled a little too sharply, which caused a coughing fit, which just hurt all over again. Of course that's when the doctor decided to come in, Sam Wilson in tow.
The doctor was a brisk, dispassionate man, but he was armed with only a stethoscope. He made Bucky breathe in and out, and clipped a device on Bucky's index finger, which somehow read his blood oxygen levels and heart rate.
"Your breath sounds have improved, Captain, but your blood oxygen saturation is at ninety-two percent. I'd like that to be higher." He helped Bucky remove the top of the hospital gown and hummed a little at the spot where some sort of tube had been stuck into his chest to reinflate a lung. Bucky tried not to shudder. Unbroken skin was covering it now, purple bruised, but whole. "This is healing nicely, but I'd like to keep you on an oxygen treatment. We'll also need further x-rays and blood-work-"
In his mind's eye, Bucky saw the medical procedures stack up, and him poked and prodded like a lab rat. "No," he said.
"Two days ago, you were suffering from a lacerated liver, two shattered ribs, broken collarbone, and a collapsed lung. Not to mention the blood loss. This is not to be taken lightly, Captain. It looked like someone tried to fillet you alive. If you were any other patient-."
"Well I ain't, and if I'm up on my feet I'm going to stay up."
"I assure you, none of this is invasive," the doctor said with an edge to his voice. "You had x-rays in the Second World War, I presume. They don't hurt-"
"I said no," Bucky growled. Then he added, just to be an asshole, "All I want are pants and a way to check out of this joint."
Tony, to his surprise, jumped to his defense. "He has the right to refuse treatment. I don't recommend it though, Buck. The drugs this man can prescribe you could-no? Okay, then compromise. I'm all about compromise. You," he pointed at Bucky, "agree to stay the rest of the night for observation. You," now to the doctor, "stick to non-invasive tests, which first get run by me or Natasha Romanoff before you ask him. Kapeesh?"
Bucky hesitated, but truthfully as much as he threatened it, he wasn't sure if he was up to getting out of bed, much less walking out of the hospital. Furthermore, Tony wouldn't suggest staying unless he were certain this place was secure. "If it'll make you happy," he grumbled, leaning back on the bed.
The doctor didn't look happy, and Tony shuffled him off to the side for a talk. Bucky caught the acronyms, "POW" and "PTSD" before he turned away.
Meanwhile, Sam Wilson had a look of bemusement on his face - common when dealing with Tony Stark for the first time. "It looks like you've got someone who has your back," he said. "I should check back on my friend. He'll never believe I met Captain America. But hey, if you ever feel like stopping by the VA and making me look good in front of my patients, don't be a stranger."
Bucky's momma didn't raise a fool. He saw it for what it was: a quiet invitation to 'talk about his feelings to a professional' and other phooey. "Thanks," he said to be polite. He and Sam shook hands again, and Sam left.
Bucky rested against the hard hospital pillow, feeling exhausted, wrung out. He toggled a button by the bed that made the top half sit up. It was easier to breathe that way. Forget Wi-Fi, this was the best of modern technology.
Closing his eyes, he ignored the doctor until he left.
Tony pulled up a visitor's chair beside the bed.
"Don't let 'em stick anything in me while I'm sleeping, okay?" Bucky muttered.
"There's a sex joke in there." Tony said.
A laugh burbled up and Bucky winced, pressing against his ribs. "Ah, damnit you asshole."
Tony's smile was fond. He reached over and squeezed Bucky's hand. "Get some sleep."
He was tired, but sleep was far from his mind. He opened his eyes and turned to Tony. "Can we talk?"
Tony went a little still. He cocked his head. "The talk? Which talk? The 'So we kissed and that happened, and I think we should do it again only without interruptions this time' talk? Or the 'we should stay friends' talk-"
"Tony." Bucky rolled his eyes. Then he gestured around the room. He tapped Morse code against Tony's wrist. BUGS?
"Oh. Yeah, probably not wise, unless I..." Tony pulled out his foldable StarkTablet from his pocket. He tapped a few commands, and the TV in the corner fuzzed out. "There we go. What's up, Cap?"
Bucky swallowed. "The Winter Soldier. Did he-did anyone-"
"He got away," Tony said with a wince.
Bucky closed his eyes, the relief making him dizzy. Natasha and Clint were ruthless. If either one had gotten a bead on him...
"Hey." Tony squeezed his wrist. "Look, I know I messed up. No one's surprised. But! I've been working on some new weaponry for the suit, some short range EMPs to counter his automail, or whatever that arm was made of. We'll get him, Bucky. We'll pin him to the wall-"
"No," Bucky said, his eyes opening. "No, shit, you can't. It's Steve."
"Steve? Steve who? Jobs?"
"Rogers," Bucky's throat felt dry. "I don't know how or... why, but-"
Tony's voice was flat. "Steve Rogers. The first Captain America, Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers?" His eyes slid to one of the IV bags, probably wondering what drugs they'd put him on. Bucky bristled.
"I know how loony it sounds," he snapped. "But I swear on my mother's grave, it's him. And he knew me, or he thought he did. Kept asking who I was, like he was lost... and... and I..."
"Alright." Tony's voice held a note of forced lightness. "Steve Rogers, okay. I can work with that. Just... just lay back down. You're wheezing."
And so he was. Bucky smacked the back of his head against his pillow, irritated, feeling alarmingly close to tears.
"There, get comfortable," Tony said. "Okay? Good. You have to keep your oxygen saturation up, or you'll get a visit from Nurse Ratchet."
Bucky nodded. His eyes burned, and he didn't trust himself to speak. He couldn't meet Tony's eyes, didn't want to see worry or pity there. After a couple minutes, the worst passed. His chest didn't feel so tight.
"How is it possible?" he asked when he felt like he could speak without shaming himself with tears. "I saw him die. If I knew he was alive, I... I don't know."
There was an odd note in Tony's voice. "Would you have crashed the plane?"
"Wouldn't have had to," Bucky said. "Steve in my place would have figured out something - you should have seen him, Tony. That plane wouldn't have ever taken off." New York wouldn't have been bombed, he knew it in his core. "He was Captain America."
"I know, babe. I know," Tony said, although there was no way he could. "Look, I'm going to fix this. I just... I'm going to fix it. Why don't you try to get some sleep? Let me run numbers."
He couldn't tell if it was a brush off or not, but Bucky was sore and tired. Emotionally wrung out. He closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax, but every time he drifted off he saw Steve falling off the train, Steve hovering above him, the knife sliding into his ribs. Steve going after Tony. Steve... Steve... Steve... He jerked back from the edge of sleep again and again.
Noticing, Tony reached up, putting his hand on Bucky's forehead and stroking back into his hair. His other hand tapped quietly on his tablet.
Tony's fingers were warm where they trailed against his scalp. He smelled good, too. A bit of cologne that blocked out the antiseptic hospital smell. Bucky tried to focus on that, and eventually slid into sleep.
OoOoO
Bucky watched himself sleep as if he were hovering from the ceiling. Tony, sprawled half in and half out of his chair, was resting next to Bucky's sleeping body, one arm draped over Bucky's chest as if afraid he was going to make a run for it.
Tony looked handsome in the morning sun. Even with the bruising mottling his face, and the fact that his busted nose had him snoring with his mouth open.
Bucky wanted to reach out and touch him, but he couldn't. He wasn't in his own body.
The hospital door opened.
Steve strode in, his long hair in a tangle, his blue eyes cold and merciless. They fixed on Bucky and Tony, and his metal hand reached to his side to draw out a long knife.
NO, Bucky wanted to scream, but he had no voice. He was only an observer. NO, NO, NO.
OoOoO
Bucky woke with a snort. His eyes jerked to the door, but it was firmly shut.
It was a dream. Just a shitty, scary dream.
His subconscious had gotten a few things right: Tony was slumped half in, half out of his chair, and snoring. But he was jerk enough to rest his head on a corner of Bucky's pillow. And no, daylight was not doing him favors, with the mass of purple bruises on his face and a streak of drool on his chin.
Affection stole through Bucky anyway, helping shed the horror of the nightmare. The kisses they'd shared before Hell broke loose at the mansion had been like the best times he'd kissed dames, but slick and hot in a way that was only Tony. And the way Tony had climbed into Bucky's lap had definitely got his motor running.
It was a damn shame in so many ways that they'd been interrupted.
Reaching out, he carefully carded a hand through Tony's hair, making his bangs stick up on end. He trailed his thumb against Tony's temple - one of the few spots that were left unbruised.
Tony stirred, eyes half-opening. "Hey."
"Hey," Bucky replied, shifting closer. Tony smiled and tilted his chin up.
Their kiss was soft, almost chaste. Not enough. Bucky leaned in, seeking more.
Suddenly, Tony hissed and reeled back, his hand snapping up to cover his bruised nose. "Ow, damn it. Bad idea."
"No kidding, you two. Get a room," said a voice from above, coming from a nearby vent. Clint.
"Are you actually in the ductwork?" Tony grumped, straightening to glare upwards. "That is seriously something you think is okay outside the mansion? What were you going to do if my least favorite assassin showed up?"
A razor-sharp arrow head poked out of the vents in answer.
Bucky made himself sit up. He must have been on the mend because his ribs only ached, not felt like they were trying to split apart. Testing, he found he could raise his arm up almost all the way. The collarbone was a lot better. He looked at Tony. "Do you think that doc will let me out of this joint anytime soon?"
"Maybe. Probably not until afternoon. I have everyone up in the Westin for now, and Pepper's looking into rentals in SoCal big enough for six superheroes and my toys."
"What about-" Clint started.
"No. La Jolla's on the blacklist."
"Aw, surfing," Clint whined.
Tony held the weirdest grudge against that city. One day, Bucky was going to get the story, but until then they had work to do. Bucky glanced up to Clint. "Tell the others we need to assemble, here, I guess. I want to get started finding the Winter Soldier yesterday."
"You got it, Cap." There was a very quiet slithering sound - presumably, Clint working his way out of the vents. Then he was gone.
Tony had sat back and was fiddling with his tablet. He didn't quite look Bucky in the eye. "I'll get the doctor."
OoOoO
"These are awful," Bucky muttered as he scraped the bottom of his fifth jello cup. It had bits of fruit in it, though what kind of fruit he couldn't say.
Natasha eyed the crusts of the three bland sandwiches left on the plate in front of him. "Says the man who's plowing through hospital food like there's no tomorrow."
"I regrew part of my liver," Bucky said. "That gives a man an appetite." And this had taken off the bare edge of it, but it was enough. Wrinkling his nose, he pushed the empty cup away.
He was still in the hospital bed, though he'd made a trip to the adjoining bathroom and back this morning with only a moderate amount of pain. He still had no damn pants, though, and if the doctor didn't file the paperwork so he could leave in the next hour he was going to throw away his dignity and walk out, bare-assed.
As if on cue, the door to the hospital room opened and the rest of the Avengers walked in. Bruce was last, looking a little hunched and sheepish, but as far as Bucky was concerned he had nothing to be ashamed of. The Hulk had saved his life by getting him out of the crumbling mansion in a hurry.
Everyone greeted Bucky. (Thor's booming "You are looking well, Captain!" must have carried at least down the hall) and the relief in his team's eyes made him warm.
Tony adjusted a setting on his StarkTablet. "Okay kids. JARVIS has jammed all electronic frequencies in this room - we have a twenty minute window. Let's make it count."
"What were you saying about JARVIS's alarms being overridden with SHIELD codes?" Bucky asked pointedly. He hadn't been in the right frame of mind to go over that last night, but it had been eating at him all morning.
Natasha was the one to answer for him. "SHIELD has a leak," she said, her smoky voice dangerous. "Fury has been alerted, and seems to be taking it seriously - he spoke about getting Alexander Pierce from the World Council involved."
Tony snorted. His feelings about the World Council were clear, and Bucky didn't disagree. They'd been behind the plan - and cover-up - to nuke Los Angeles to stop the Chitauri invasion.
"Uh, do you think there could be a connection between SHIELD and the Winter Soldier?" Bruce asked softly.
Natasha and Clint both shook their heads. Tony looked pointedly at Bucky, an eyebrow raised as if to say 'you aren't getting a better opening'.
Bucky squared his shoulders and tried to look calm and authoritative - as much as he could sitting up in a hospital bed, in a flimsy gown. "About that... I know who the Winter Soldier is." And he made himself recount as much as he could about what had happened, and what Steve had said to him.
The ringing silence after he was done spoke volumes.
"No offense," Clint said, glancing to Natasha, "but you probably had a couple blows to the head during that fight, right?"
"Bucky-" Bruce started.
"I had my doubts, too," Tony said, then held up his hand as Bucky took a breath to protest. "Sorry, Buck, but you have been on all the tranquilizers over the last few days. So, last night I ran a facial comparison scan between Steve Rogers and the Winter Soldier."
He lifted his tablet. "It wasn't easy. Most of the footage from the original rebirth program had been classified and destroyed decades ago. There wasn't much left-"
"What about the old propaganda movies?" Bucky asked. "Steve said he starred in at least three of them."
Bruce was the one who answered. "There was a big fire at the LA film archive in the fifties. A lot of old movie reels were destroyed - not just the Captain America ones.
"Luckily for us, my old man was nothing but thorough. JARVIS found this in his private archives." Tony tapped something on his tablet and the overhead TV flickered to life.
And there Steve was, grainy and in black and white. Bucky, too. There was no sound to go along with the film, but Steve was chuckling and smiling his matinee smile.
Bucky remembered vividly when it was filmed. They'd been on leave in London, but Phillips wouldn't let them go unless Steve said a few words to the press. Bucky had been standing nearby, and a reporter had asked him, "Sergeant, you've known Captain America all your life. What do you think when you see him now?"
Bucky had looked over at Steve and laughed. "My friend."
Up on the screen, his mouth silently formed the words. Steve glanced at him and his eyes squint even further in a smile. Then the short clip repeated.
Clint let out a low whistle, "That's Steve Rogers? He's a big guy. He has two or three inches on you, Bucky."
Bucky's throat felt thick. "Didn't always used to be that way."
"Anyway, here's the interesting part." Tony swiped a few more commands on his tablet. The screen split and a second image appeared - this one in color. "This is from the other day."
It was a still image: The Winter Soldier was turned towards Tony, a moment before Tony had blasted him with his repulsers. His mask and sunglasses were gone. Even with the scruff around his jaw and the longer hair, the similar appearance was striking. Bucky heard an intake of breath from several people.
One of Tony's programs isolated both Steve's and the Winter Soldier's face - lines and targets measuring the spaces between their eyes, the shapes and structures of their noses and lips.
99.8 percent match, flashed at the bottom.
"Facial recognition isn't a perfect science, yet," Tony said as if in apology it wasn't 100%.
"That's... unusually high," Natasha admitted. "Could it be his son?"
"No." Bruce gently took the tablet from Tony to view the readings himself. "Not with this high of a match. This is on the level of identical twins. And there was no evidence of microsurgery scars?" he added to Tony.
"Not that JARVIS found. I mean, they could be hidden, but it's difficult."
"A clone?" Clint asked.
"He remembered me," Bucky said. "Or at least he thought he remembered something about me." He'd read up on cloning when he first got out of the ice: Dolly the sheep and Snoopy the dog, and all the advances scientists were making on bringing back Mammoths. "Clones don't have memories."
"That we know of," Natasha said, crossing her arms.
Thor leaned closer to look at the screen, then nodded once. "It does appear to be your shield brother, Captain."
"It's him," he confirmed. "But how? We-all the Commandos-we burned his body in the ravine. We sent his ashes on."
Bruce looked a little uncomfortable. Everyone shifted around, and even Natasha wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
"Was more than one person able to positively identify his body?" Bruce asked. "I read the reports. The fall was over four-hundred feet."
Bucky swallowed. "His head got... his head hit the rocks, on the way down." Thanks to his enhancements he still had a clear memory of it: The blood in Steve's hair, and a dent in his skull that Bucky still couldn't think about without feeling a little sick. "But his face was fine. And I wasn't the only one who ID'ed him. Dum-Dum, Morita, and all the others did, too. There wasn't a question."
Natasha was suddenly in his face, holding his chin with one hand.
"Nat-what-?"
She stared intently at him. "Tell me that again."
"What?" Bucky gripped her wrist, but her hand on his chin was firm.
"What did Steve look like when you found him?"
Steve's eyes had been open and staring. A look of vague amazement on his face. "Dead," Bucky said flatly.
Natasha turned to the others. "Do you see it?"
"Yeah," Tony said. Clint and Thor look puzzled. Bucky started to object, but Tony held up his hand. "Do me a favor. What did you eat the night before the mansion was attacked?"
Bucky thought for a second. "Chicken Curry."
"Normal reaction." Bruce said.
Finally, Bucky managed to bat Natasha's hand away. "Okay, what the hell?"
"It's an automatic response," she said. "People's eyes normally flick to the right or to the left when recalling a memory."
Clint snapped his fingers. "Hey, yeah. I remember seeing a show about that."
"Yours didn't when you were recalling Steve," Natasha said. "You stared straight ahead - no wavering at all."
"Could be the trauma," Bruce said. "He is experiencing an emotional reaction."
"'He' is right here," Bucky growled.
"I know," Clint said, a devilish glint in his eye he got when he poked beehives. "Try to think of something else traumatic, as a control. Tell us about Brooklyn."
"Tell us something traumatic," Tony repeated in derision. "You are the worst, Clint. That VA guy is going to come and kick your butt and I'm going to laugh."
And no way was Bucky going to wax on 'bout Brooklyn. "So my eyes aren't flicking. So what?"
Natasha shrugged. "It could be nothing. All it means is you're not accessing a memory the normal way."
"It could indicate an implanted or learned response," Tony suggested. "It's possible - there are reports of the Russians implanting memories in their operatives all the way back to the sixties."
A tingle ran up his spine. "Well, I ain't a Russian operative. Plus, someone would have had to do something to all of us Commandos, and for what?"
Tony shrugged, and again he didn't look Bucky in the eye. "For a chance at the most capable and deadly super soldier in the world, Cap? A product of Dr. Erskine, himself? No one knew at the time HYDRA's experimentation on you had turned up roses."
He looked at all of them. "But the memory is real. I can still recall everything. No gaps, no missing time." He'd gone through a phase of watching alien documentaries and supposed 'abductions' on the History Channel and learned all about missing time. "'sides, we're talking about nineteen forties tech, not sixties. I'm more familiar with it than all of you. We didn't have the technology to screw around with people's minds like that, back then."
"No," Clint said. The jerk-ass glint had faded from his eyes, leaving his expression grave. "But HYDRA did have the tesseract. We know she-it can alter people's minds."
"Aye," Thor said softly. "If the wielder wishes it."
Bucky dragged a hand down his face. He tried not to think about that day very much - it hurt. He made himself go through it now, scouring his memories for any hint anything was off. He and Dum-Dum had gathered the other Commandos. They'd repelled down the mountainside. The hike down had taken hours - worse, going up. They'd found Steve, and made the decision to burn the body among his brothers rather than let the scientists cut him to pieces and keep parts of him in jars. Bucky himself had carried Steve's ashes against his heart on the climb back up. Then he had personally sent Steve's remains by postage to Mother Superior, back at the Sacred Heart orphanage for safe keeping until Bucky could get back. That evening, Bucky had started drinking and hadn't stopped until Phillips told him he was to be the new Captain America.
It was all there, and if anything had been altered or changed he couldn't tell.
Bucky shook his head and glanced up to Thor. "Is there anyway to test for it?"
"Perhaps, but as you know, I'm not easily welcome back to Asgard. Any visit would have to be without the All Father's knowledge."
Bruce spoke. "Professor Xavier specializes in anomalies within the human mind."
"Good thinking, Jolly Green. I'll ask him. He owes me a favor." Tony dug in his pockets or his phone. Bucky nodded, numbly, but Tony was already on his way out, his phone to his ear.
"I will consult my mother. The tesseract contains memories of its own. Perhaps there is a way to access them," Thor said giving Bucky a respectful nod before he also left.
Natasha cocked an eyebrow at Clint, who nudged Bruce. The two men made their way out, Clint clapping Bucky on the shoulder as they did.
When the door closed, Natasha turned to Bucky, her arms crossed. "You're compromised," she said softly.
He sighed and leaned back. "You think?"
"Let Clint and I go after him. We've tried it your and Tony's way."
"Playing chicken was Tony's idea-"
"You didn't shut it down - and it made sense to try to call him in the open, but that won't work again." She dropped her arms and stepped closer. "You know Clint and I have different skill-sets. Let us do what we do best."
Bucky rubbed over his brow, thinking. But she had a point. "Okay, but I want check-ins at regular intervals."
She nodded, and turned to leave.
"And Natasha," he said. She stopped. "I know it's Steve, but even if you find otherwise- he comes in alive. You get it?"
She smiled and crossed the room to dot a kiss on his cheek. "Of course."