"I was an assassin." Bucky looked up from fiddling with the engine. It was just a distraction to get her to play out her hand.
"You could just kill her. Or in the spirit of your new rules, torture her, to tell the truth. Or ask nicely?"
He shook his head, his go-to for dislodging the Voice's bad ideas.
Cold sleet began to plunk on the hood when he slammed it shut. Alex didn't jump.
She did startle when he drove the metal fist deep into the fender; abandoning Sam's counsel that the old GMC was something to be cherished and not abused.
That move gained him the desired effect. It left her with a discernible full body tremor.
His eye wasn't distracted by the faint shake of her pink hair though, instead, he watched her hand, the one holding the semiautomatic.
"She's afraid of you."
The gun barrel shimmied left then right. Her arm dropped down faintly with the weight; it's sight moving from his face, to his neck, then a jerk back towards his head. The whole scene was familiar, something he'd faced a thousand times before except in the past it wasn't a young girl.
"Make it a headshot." He whispered. "You can do that right? Shoot a man in the eye from six feet away."
Even the dark couldn't hide her uncertainty.
"Here, I'll help you. I'll come closer, just a step or two." He moved along the fender.
She twisted in the driver's seat to follow him; the gun pointed out the window.
"Anything less than a headshot and you've got a fight on your hands. The DEA taught you that right? Maybe not. Fury then. He knows this."
"Don't come any closer." Her words were as tremulous as her body.
"Nope. Right here is perfect." Bucky kept his voice low. "Funny thing about memories. The dead are there. So are the living. I remember what I did."
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Did I tell you I was an assassin? Hand of Hydra. The asset. A killer of men. Women. Children."
A calculated step back drew her forward; the hand with the gun extended out the window.
Before she could blink; his metal hand wrapped around her wrist. He pulled.
The gun went off.
Alex sucked in a gasp then, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Bucky dragged her through the window as he staggered back towards the ground.
She landed on top of him and stammered between sobs, "No! I didn't mean to."
He laid splayed on the ground glaring up at her straddling him.
"I lied! I know where Sam is. I'm not Hydra, please don't kill me!"
"Get off. Get the...heck off of me."
"Where did I shoot you?" She patted his chest and neck.
"Stop it." She landed ungracefully on her ass as he rolled up and flexed his shoulder.
"She's just an impressionable child. Like the girls in the Red Room. Maybe we shouldn't kill her yet."
"Should we knock? Or sneak in the back door?" Natasha glanced sideways at Steve as he studied the blast doors wrapped in fall's withering vines.
"Good chance she's lying." He muttered as they stood on a low hillside overlooking a dilapidated complex.
"No doubt. She's pretty pissed at you."
Steve offered a confused look.
"You stood her up. Then you ran off with, you know, the Winter Soldier."
"I didn't stand her up. Or run off with the Winter..." He quit trying to defend himself.
"She lost her job, her career, her reputation. All from helping you and an international fugitive. Then you lost her phone number."
"Can we please focus here."
"I'm focused. I think your plan sucks but I'm focused."
Steve turned towards the road below them as Fury's vehicles slowly pulled up out of sight of the complex.
"I didn't run off with the Winter Soldier." He corrected under his breath. "I ran off with Bucky."
"Fury's here with Sharon, it's go-time." She whispered.
Steve followed her down the hill. "Wait. My plan? I stole the idea from you. Get captured. Work from the inside."
The plan discussion with Fury before leaving his compound was succinct.
"We need to get in there and take them down." Steve had every intention of kicking in the front door and fighting his way through each and every occupant.
Fury was skeptical. "A full assault on a 1950's underground missile silo? You and whose army? Not mine. I don't have an army."
"Then we knock on the door and fight our way through to the top guy."
"Rogers, if I saw your angry face on my front door surveillance cameras I am not letting you in."
Steve paced out his frustration. "We, I will find a way in. You heard the chatter on the police scanners. Cops chasing black SUV's chasing a GMC pickup truck. You can send your troops out there to intercept Hydra's goons, that works for now. And I have faith in Bucky's ability to outrun them, for a while anyway. But we can cut off the heads with this move. So either help me get in there or I will go on my own."
Natasha intervened. "I have an idea. It involves pain. Handcuffs. And some acting. You up for that Rogers?"
"I live with Bucky. Of course, I'm up for that." He answered her skeptical look with, "Real, we are very real. Not acting. But I'm up for acting in this situation and I refrain from commenting on the handcuffs. Or the pain."
"Stop while you're ahead, Steve."
Natasha's plan was classic old-school spy stuff. Pretend to be captured, get brought into the lair, get free with a hairpin or paperclip, open the doors for reinforcements. It involved beating one another up, an oddly satisfying task for both of them.
Steve was insistent. "They'll never believe us without this."
She pulled her punches at first.
"Nat, I heal fast. Do this."
The end result was an impressive array of black, blue, purple and red colors overlying diffuse swelling and one closed eye. For Steve.
He refused to hit her. So Fury did.
Unfortunately, part of the plan relied on the precarious faith Fury had in Sharon's commitment to his offer of leniency. They all hoped it would buy her loyalty for a couple of hours if not for Steve then at least for Fury.
Sharon sent a tight-lipped smile towards the well-camouflaged surveillance camera at the entrance to the Widow's silo. A panel by the door slid open, she blinked, then brought her eye close to the scanner.
The entrance didn't open right away.
"Come on." She tapped her boot on the gravel.
A familiar woman's voice answered. "Sharon my dear, you're late. And you have company."
"Yes. Unforeseen delay. The company. I think you'll be pleased." She turned to the vehicle and waved abruptly for the car to roll up so the camera could capture the occupants.
Sokolov smiled as she watched the images on the surveillance feed.
"Very nice surprise Ms. Carter. I see you have a Black Widow with you." Natasha was curled in the back seat, hands, and feet bound with zip ties.
Sharon opened the trunk to what appeared to be a battered and unconscious Steve in handcuffs. She drummed her fingers nervously on the trunk while the old Widow took it all in.
"Impressive. You did this yourself? Subdued both of them?"
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Sharon. It made her next move a bit easier. "Yes. I did. I drugged him. I kicked her ass. And I shot Fury. Now here we are. Romanova is loyal to herself, you understand that Agent Sokolov. As do I. No one's going to look out for us except us."
She stalked up to the video feed. "Do you want him? The Soldier. That's all you talk about. The Asset. Pasha. Well, here you go. I am about to deliver the bait. He'll come running to you when you hang Steve Rogers out. He'll sniff the wind for his blood like the pathetic dog he is and come running. So, let us in and we get on with this mess or I drive off with the perfect Steve fucking Rogers and this Widow and I work our own deals with the very rich and numerous entities that are interested in your precious Soldier."
Sokolov began to clap. "Very good performance Ms. Carter. I'm not a fool as you know. But I do agree with your assessment. My child will come running home if he knows his lover is here and in danger. Very good indeed my dear."
The blast doors slowly ground open.
A scrap of boots on the concrete floor caught Sam's attention.
"That you Barnes?" His voice was muffled and dry; a byproduct of the dusty hood he'd been wearing for the past several hours.
He was trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving by that little shit of a girl. All the twister moves he applied to his escape efforts only gave him rope burn and a monster cramp in his thigh that shriveled his balls and brought tears to his eyes.
The toe of a classic black Gortex combat boot slipped into view. As much as he hoped that toe was attached to Barnes' size 11 feet standing in front of him; he had been dreading this moment when Barnes found him tied up and hooded. Bested by a munchkin.
"Come on." He rasped out.
Sam was confident Barnes had made it out once Hydra hit the place. The horde of soldiers running in and out of the clinic sounded like a scene out of a melodramatic cop movie, complete with the squeal of tires and shouts of, "He went that way."
He took solace in the image of him smirking as he flipped them the metal finger salute as he sped off into the sunset.
Sam whiled away his time in bondage struggling and imaging all the ways that he and Barnes could torment the girl. Although he took personal satisfaction in the idea of tormenting her himself. There was a perverse feeling of glee when he thought about how Barnes could likely take payback to a whole new level even if he had turned over a new leaf and wasn't torturing or killing anyone anymore.
He felt supremely betrayed that she'd lured him into the basement by appealing to his mother's proper upbringing of being a gentleman.
"Sam I need help lifting a box." He loathed the way she formed the words with so much fake innocence. He, of course, complied immediately, abandoning his post as the official Barnes Sitter only to find himself with a needle full of lorazepam stuck in his butt as he went down for the long nap. On the upside, she helped him to the chair so he didn't crack his skull on the concrete floor.
Now he was hoping that all that Wintering savvy would fall into place once they'd gotten away and Barnes would come to his rescue.
"Say something. It's you right?" His words were muffled.
The boot moved one way then the next. No words. No movement to untie or unhood him.
"Come on, I know you're enjoying this shit. Get me out of here."
The boots moved behind him and stopped.
"I know it's you. I can smell you. That damn coconut shampoo in the bathroom. I know you used it. Stop this shit and let me out."
The point of a knife pressed against the back of his head and faintly grazed his skin.
"Barnes? Or not? Hydra uses coconut shampoo?"
The knife slowly lifted the hood off his head and tossed it to land at his feet. He twisted around to catch a glimpse of whoever was behind him but they kept just out of his vision pacing slowly. Sam's thoughts drifted to that stalking predatory stride from D.C. "Shit. You are Barnes right?"
A hand came to rest on his shoulder; a black fingerless glove. The knife tugged at the rope on his hands.
"Enough with the games. Let's get out of here." He pulled up and out of the chair falling to his knees as the ropes around his legs trapped him. He swung around kicking to get free. "Barnes!"
Bucky stood in the shadows of the room. Quiet and still. He had clearly raided the storage facility for the black leather vest and a wealth of weapons. The shield was leaning against the stairs. His face was blank; gray-blue eyes flat and cold.
"You OK? Let's just cut to the chase. If you're Barnes then talk to me. Anything. If you're triggered, you're wintering then let's just throw down and get the ass-whipping over with."
Bucky didn't respond at first.
"Fuck you Birdman."
"Never thought I'd be glad to be called Birdman."
"You let a two-legged unicorn tie you up."
Sam wanted to argue but decided it was a mute point. He was right.
"You're dressed for a fight, I see." He took in all that was Barnes at the moment. A darkly lethal threat of guns and knives; and cold determined anger. Sam had seen him as the emotionless killing machine in D.C. and the self-loathing, reluctant fighter in the tunnels. This was different. He was pissed, well armed with weapons and 70 years of experience in his memory. Not to mention an optimized mood stabilizing medication regime on board. This was going to get interesting.
Bucky checked the clip on his Glock. "I'm going after him. You can come along or not. Up to you."
Sam rubbed his wrists. "He specifically said not to follow him. No matter what."
"He told you to tell me that?"
"Yes, he did."
"Did he tell you to stop me?" He pulled the shield onto his forearm.
"No. He didn't mention that come to think of it."
"Then you're job is done."
Sam dug his uniform out of the destroyed apartment. "Hey, how'd you find me?"
"The girl told me."
"You beat it out of her right? Please say you at least made her cry."
Bucky shook his head and paused at what was left of the back door. "She cried. Does that help?"
"Yes." Sam did an internal fist pump.
They headed for the pickup. He threw the flight pack in the back and paused to study the array of weapons and a distinctly human shaped duffle bag.
"I'm afraid to ask. But here goes. What's in the duffle bag?"
"A body."
"I was kidding. About hurting her. Is she alive? I hope."
"You still alive?" Barnes poked at the bag with the rifle he pulled off his back.
A stream of profanities spewed forth putting her in a league with Barnes himself.
"Why the bag? Just curious."
"She shot me."
"Awkward. Do you need bandages? I know where they are back there in the clinic."
Bucky answered with an icy glare. One of his best looks.
"No really. Are you shot?" Sam persisted.
"Sometimes having a metal arm comes in handy."
"Did you just make a pun, well an almost pun?"
Bucky sighed.
"No really. I'm so proud of you. An almost pun. Wow."
Sharon's voice was muffled by the trunk but Steve was sure he heard her say the planned dialogue.
"We worked together. Romanova and I. He likes to get on his high perfect horse and bark orders at everyone. She's done taking orders from them."
Sokolov sounded skeptical. "Why would she turn on them?"
Natasha had predicted that.
Sharon hissed. "I told you. The same reason I'm done with him. I've lost everything by being loyal to him and he acts like he doesn't even know me. Instead, he ran off with that piece of shit, your precious..."
"Be careful, child. The asset has my favor. You should keep that in mind."
"Fine. She helped them and got the same raw deal. A fugitive from the Accords. A life on the run. Besides, she's no fool, there's money to be made."
Steve shook off the loose cuffs and leg irons and braced for the next part of the plan. Attack the first person to open the trunk and work his way through the building until he had the Widow and the man in charge.
Natasha's sudden moan was unnerving. They had hoped Sokolov would bite on their flimsy offering. At least give Nat the benefit of a talk. The zip ties were rigged, she could get away if needed. But the next sound of a soft thud followed by another moan left no doubts. The plan was falling apart before it got started.
Footsteps approached. A click. The trunk started to rise.
A male voice with a distinctly Russian accent, "Captain Rogers. It will be a pleasure to spend time with you."
The trunk rose. Steve dove forward to crash into the darkly dressed man in the center of his vision. He wasn't expecting to be airborne and thrown against the wall.
He scrambled to regroup and charged again. The man was taller than Steve, broad shoulders and rock solid when his fist connected with his gut.
Steve found himself sprawled in a slide across the floor to crash into a generator.
He rallied with a roundhouse kick, a flurry of punches; a front kick. All of his efforts were met with a hand pushing him aside or an impassive immoveable stance.
A pause to take in the man before him brought back hints of the past. His opponent finally came into clear view. A dark and thin face smiled at him. Tight red-hued skin clung to the skull as if all the muscle and flesh had been eroded away to leave only ligaments and bone. It wasn't his enemy from years earlier but Steve allowed the quick thought that somehow Hydra had tried again. And failed.
"We have never met if you are wondering. I know, I must give you pause. But I do know who you are. We will soon become great friends."
Steve threw everything he had into the next punch but that face took it with barely a turn. The back-hand that followed sent Steve crashing in a heap against the wall. A gloved hand caught his throat, dragged him up to his feet and pinned him.
He struggled against the choking hold as the light faded. The mind can do funny things when it starts to fade. The grip around his throat felt like Bucky's metal hand.
Steve thought he could hear his voice, and just as the blackness fell, he could see him standing over the man's shoulder.
"Are you gonna answer that?" Sam glanced at Bucky and pointed at the cell phone bouncing across the dashboard as they sped down the highway towards Fury's compound.
He ignored him.
"That phone is ringing. It's Alex's phone. Maybe we should answer it."
"I will. In a minute." He pushed the truck faster.
"What? Here. I'll get it."
Bucky hit the brakes hard and threw it in park.
A muffled "Fuck." Wafted in through the broken back window.
"Don't fucking touch it."
"Got it!" Sam threw his hands up. "Let it ring."
"This is it, Soldier. Time to pay the price for betrayal."
Bucky stared at the insistently ringing phone a few seconds longer before hitting answer.
Sam watched his face as the conversation unfolded.
Sharon's voice was clear. "Sergeant Barnes?"
Bucky let her wait. He needed the coldness to grow.
She kept talking.
"Sergeant Barnes. Or should I say Asset?"
His voice was steady when he finally engaged. "Where is he?"
"All in good time. We need you to come in."
"Back to this again. I'm hanging up."
Sharon's smirk played in her voice. "You won't hang up. You want to know where he is."
Sam could see the tension settle in his jaw even if his tone stayed passive.
"Let's not play games. I know you have him."
"This is no game, Soldier."
"I want to talk to him, now."
"In time."
"Put. Him. On the phone."
The Widow's voice overrode Sharon's. "Let him talk to his Captain."
Bucky could hear the shuffle of people moving, the phone changing hands.
A familiar breath, then, "Buck?" Steve's voice was thick and slurred.
"Rogers."
Bucky had a hundred things he wanted to say. "You're a fucking idiot, why'd you go without me, you left me sleeping naked and alone with Birdman watching me."
He managed. "You OK?"
"Fine. Don't you dare come here."
"First. This is about getting me there and second no fucking way I leave you with that monster."
Steve rasped. "You need to run, now. Right now."
"This is just stupid. I want the address." He yelled at the phone. "Where the fuck are you?"
"It's over. You can't help me. Run and don't look back."
"Is that what you'd do, Rogers? Run and leave me?"
A deep male voice with a Russian accent cut in. "You want to know where your precious Captain is? Yes?"
This voice was new but the tone of amusement brought back cold memories.
"Yeah. I want your fucking address. And whoever the hell you are, he better be alive and in one piece when I get there. Or I'll take you apart..."
The phone went dead. A few seconds later an address appeared.
"Soldier, you can't win this fight. Hydra, Mother, they always win. You know this."
Bucky staggered down the road behind the truck trying to catch is breath. A deep ache overwhelmed logical thoughts. He abandoned the truck when he felt the rush of panic grab at his chest when the phone went dead.
He didn't want to come apart in front of Wilson or the girl.
"Keep it together, Barnes. Think. You can do this. Shit."
"Go home, Soldier. It's what you should have done months ago. None of this would have happened ifyou had just gone home. Go now. Maybe she'll let him live."
Bucky knew what he had to do. What he should have done all along. It was time to face the past.