A/N: Fair warning, though I have a few more chapters just about ready to go after this one, the update-delay warning remains in effect. I am getting busier IRL and won't have as much downtime to sit down and plan/write chapters. I'll try not to let the story languish TOO much, but it is necessarily not at the top of my priority list.

I'm still not convinced this one is perfect, but it's trying to strike a very tricky balance and I'm getting tired of re-reading it. I'm calling it close enough here.

Enjoy!

"Which one do you want first?" The colonel is alone, apparently; just like before. Bucky had been half expecting an entourage. Maybe some more doctors to poke him and make vague noises of surprise while they make notes that he won't be allowed to look at.
Phillips takes a seat matter-of-factly, facing Bucky, who's still perched on the edge of his cot.

Bucky shrugs, unenthused.
"Either."
He'll probably hate the news either way, whatever it is.
He doesn't much trust the army's version of 'good news' anymore. They told him Steve's transformation into this enormous, unfamiliar super-soldier was 'good news'. That Captain America was a great stride forward in the war effort. Bucky had been under the impression that ending the damned war was the goal. Apparently he'd been mistaken.
Bucky fails to see how anything about sticking his best friend on the front lines with a giant target painted on his chest is remotely 'good'.

Phillips' eyebrow hikes up just a hair, but he doesn't comment on Bucky's clearly sour mood.
"Alright," he says, calm and nonplussed. "The bad news is, you did get some bastard version of the super-soldier serum." the colonel informs him bluntly, not even bothering to sugar-coat it. "Blood tests confirmed it this morning. Serum experimentation was apparently the entire purpose of that lab."
Bucky says nothing.
"Seems you were lucky enough to get a fairly advanced version of the shit that didn't kill you right away, but as you are keenly aware, hurt like hell. It's always a bumpy ride, but apparently the shock to the system was usually fatal before your dose. Maybe it still would be on anybody else - they're not sure why you survived. Either way, you got lucky."

Bucky snorts at that and looks at his hands.
Lucky. Right.
Phillips is watching him closely. He ignores it as best he can.
Bucky's not as surprised as he probably ought to be. Much as most people seem to think he's a stupid goon, he can put two and two together just fine, thanks. After talking to Steve and then to Phillips right after, he'd had his suspicions about what exactly they were doing to him in there.
He just hadn't really wanted to think about it.

"So what's that mean? I'm gonna turn into Superman... like Steve?"

"No." Phillips shrugs. There's a faint edge of something Bucky can't quite put his finger on in the colonel's otherwise neutral expression. "It'd be nice, but no such luck. Bastard version, remember?
It -ironically- is what kept you alive on that table, when under normal circumstances we would not be sitting here having this conversation because you'd be six-feet under, Sergeant." He pauses, as if for effect. "Like I said: lucky.
But best I've been informed, it's got bugs. Kinks they never worked out.
You're gonna have side-effects, but even our best have no idea what kind - not without doing an examination themselves- and even then they're not sure of anything."

"Great." Bucky mutters, shaking his head with a quiet, mirthless chuckle. "Just great. So I'm a time-bomb, that's what you're tellin' me? …-Sir."

"Stow the bullshit, Barnes, I'm getting to the good news." The colonel's tone lacks bite. He sits back and crosses his arms.
"You're getting out of here. Whole unit is, in fact. We're bugging out to London ASAP to figure this thing out."

Bucky nods because it's expected, but he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Great. A new holding cell. Fantastic. So he can have all new people poke at him and lock him away from the rest of the world. Same shit, different day. He can't even bring himself to care anymore.
He's a little surprised at just how foul his own mood is, but he can't quite muster the energy to shake it off. … Nor can he convince himself that he should bother.

"Best news is," Phillips continues, undaunted "you're not gonna keel over and die - at least not anytime soon. Whatever was in that stuff, nothing seems to have been immediately toxic, and even if it was, your blood'll filter it for the time being. Shock is usually the part that gets you. And you survived that."
Phillips darts a cryptic, sidelong look at him. Bucky looks away. Phillips goes right on anyway, talking to the side of Bucky's head as if he had his full, undivided attention.
"For the time being, son, as far as anyone knows, you're fine. Better than fine, if we're counting your reflexes and healing time." He pauses, waiting for Bucky to look at him. Bucky does, briefly, when the silence starts to get to him.
"-And as long as that continues to be the case, we can all just consider all this a real bad dream, and get on with the business of winning this war. You can get back to being a soldier instead of a lab rat - and don't tell me you haven't been dreaming about that, because I'm not blind, Barnes."

Bucky says nothing and returns to uncomfortably studying the floor.

He's not so sure he wants to go back to being a soldier either, but it's not like he has a choice...

Phillips leans into his space. Bucky shifts back a fraction of an inch.
The colonel lets him.
"You're getting out of here. Today."
Bucky's gaze snaps upward so fast he's amazed he doesn't topple over backward. He's finally getting out of this dungeon. He's finally getting out-
The colonel cuts him off before he can say a word. "You'll be bunking with Rogers for the short term, because god knows I can't keep you two idiots apart without one of you doing something incredibly, amazingly stupid." The colonel cocks his head, something like a grudging smile just hinting at the edges of his lips. " … It's usually Rogers, to be fair."

"Sir, what-"

"-But-" Phillips interrupts, eyes abruptly as cold and hard as steel. Bucky falls silent. He swallows hard as his mouth goes dry, but he doesn't blink.
"You start feelin' 'funny' - you so much as sneeze, Barnes - and I wanna know about it. We are not taking any stupid chances with this mess. You understand me?"

"Yes sir. I do." Like hell, Bucky thinks.
He's had enough of labs and doctors to last a lifetime. He'll be fucking dying before he sets foot back in an infirmary again voluntarily. He's really starting to understand how Steve has always felt about hospitals...

"Good. Now collect your gear and go find your new babysitter. And for the love of god, keep the tearful reunions to yourselves." Phillips adds with some derision.

The colonel makes no move to get up, now that the conversation is over. If anything, he seems to settle in more. Like he's waiting for something. He's seems almost… expectant.
Bucky falters.

"Sir-"
He hesitates, half expecting to be shut down again.
He gets a slight head tilt in reply and nothing more.
The colonel sits impassively, watching him. Like he knows exactly what Bucky's about to say, and he's just waiting for him to have out with it.
He doesn't appear to have any interest in helping him along.

"Does-" Bucky hesitates again, then makes himself spit the words out. "Does Steve- Does Captain Rogers ...know about… about any of this?"

"No." The colonel moves then, suddenly looming large and close enough that Bucky is abruptly very claustrophobic. He shuffles backward, but the colonel seems to move with him, and it gains him no distance.
"And it's gonna stay that way."

Bucky tries to shrink back, though he couldn't say what he's actually afraid of. He can feel the colonel's eyes boring into his skull, straight through his eye sockets. His breath speeds up and he has to fight the urge to push past this man and bolt. Whatever protest he was about to raise, it shrivels and dies on his lips.
He finds that he can't look away, much as he wants to.
He swallows involuntarily, his throat making a strangled squeak noise that could've been words a few minutes earlier.

Phillips' voice crack over him like a whip as he leans in a fraction of an inch closer. Bucky backs up.
"We both know Rogers gets real, real stupid where you're involved, Barnes."
Bucky does know that. He's had 20-odd years to get used to Steve's crazy, reckless streak. He doesn't dare nod, though. He can't help but feel like he's not allowed to.
"One-man invasion stupid." The colonel goes on. "AWOL stupid." The colonel's words are crisp and relentless. "Dangerous stupid." They beat against Bucky's skull in a constant driving rhythm.
"That kid is a danger to himself and everyone around him when he tries to play hero." the colonel continues, his voice like a razor. Bucky winces and shies away from him, trying not to let it show. The colonel doesn't appear to notice.
"I don't need him stupid. I need him focused on stopping Schmidt, and for that I need him smart. Rogers can be a good soldier under the right conditions, but you are the tipping point."
A thick finger prods him lightly in the chest. Bucky backs up a bit more, scrabbling for space.

"Sir-"
Phillips is crowding him.
Bucky inches back until he can feel the curtain behind his cot brushing against his shoulder, but the colonel just won't let him have any breathing room. He's bent at the waist, inches from Bucky's face, and alarm bells are screaming in Bucky's brain. The room starts, inexplicably, to tilt and spin. He's getting dizzy. The colonel is too close, too threatening, and he just can't handle it anymore. His chest tightens with oncoming panic. He fights it down.
Not here. Not now.

Phillips either doesn't notice how distressed Bucky's getting or just doesn't care. He continues ruthlessly.
"You're either a help, or you're a distraction." He bites off the words; calm, hard, and dangerous. His tone is ice-cold iron. "I don't need any distractions in my unit. You play ball or you get the hell out of my Army. You understand me, Sergeant?"

Bucky is sweating. He's distantly aware that a vein is bulging in the colonel's neck, inches from his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings back, and struggles to find his voice.

"I think so, sir."

It comes out thin and strained. He drags in a quiet breath of relief when the colonel abruptly moves back out of his space, feeling his heart pounding near out of his chest. He crumples just a bit, whatever fight he had left going out of him. He hopes to god that Phillips didn't notice that.

Bucky is shaking. He wraps his arms around himself to try to hide it.
He already hates himself, but he has no choice. Much as he wants out, he's got to stay, and that means he's got to play by the rules he's just been handed. ...Well bludgeoned with, more-like… but semantics aren't important now.

Getting out isn't an option anymore. Not with Steve here.
He can't leave; couldn't even if they offered him a plane ticket and a fond farewell tomorrow. … Not that they would.
No matter that he's been dreaming about Brooklyn since he shipped out...
He can't go anywhere but here, no matter how desperately he'd like to be anywhere but here.

Bucky know his best friend better than he knows himself. He knows exactly what will happen if Steve goes charging off with an army at his back and nobody to reign him in. Somebody will get lucky, or Steve will get stupid. Either way, Steve will get killed.
Bucky can't risk that.

He knows with absolute certainty that he can't let Steve face this thing without him, no matter how fucking terrified he is.
The problem is, Steve won't back down - doesn't know how to back down- no matter what kind of danger he's in. No matter what crazy-ass thing he's told to do, Steve will do it or die trying. They just have to get him fired up and point him in the right direction. Bucky's seen it a hundred times.
God knows Bucky's had to pick him up and clean him up more times than he can count, in the aftermath.
Steve's too reckless. Too brave. He's done this before with bullies at school, then with street toughs after. He gets an idea in his head and then he doesn't think, he just does. He goes and hopes for the best.

Bucky knows all too well what happens to guys who do that on a battle-field. He had to sign condolence letters for a couple of guys in his unit not too long before the clusterfuck of a battle that got them him captured and half his unit vaporized.
He knows what happens to 'heroes'.

Steve'll get himself killed inside of a week in combat without Bucky here to watch his back. It's not hyperbole - it's fact. And Bucky will never be able to live with himself if something happens to Steve. Never.
He's still trying to come to terms with the fact that his best friend let himself be turned into a science experiment the moment Bucky's back was turned. He can't take the idea of anything worse.

Bucky hates himself more than he's ever done - and that's saying something- ...but it doesn't matter.
He's going to lie to Steve.
He's going to lie right straight through his teeth to his best friend, and he's going to smile when he does it. While he lies to the guy that saved his life not one week ago.

It's not like it'll be the first time.

Bucky's lied to Steve half a million times, because there just wasn't a better way to keep the stupid little punk safe and breathing; not with that kid's stubborn streak.
He'd lied about enlisting. He'd lied that he'd eaten his dinner with the boys on his way home - he doesn't need anything else to eat tonight, honest -Steve should have his half. He's lied a hundred-thousand times to protect Steve.

That's all this is, really… it's just...
It doesn't matter if it's for Steve's own good - his own protection. It doesn't matter if he's saving Steve from himself. He still feels like a bastard.

He makes himself look the colonel in the eye, swallows hard… and nods.
"I think so." he repeats, stronger.

The colonel looks away, and if Bucky didn't know better, he'd think he saw the briefest flicker of regret… even shame on his face. It's gone a moment later, and he's sure he imagined it. The army doesn't ever feel bad. About anything. Ever.
He knows that well enough by now.

"Welcome back to the world, Barnes." Phillips says flatly, leaving him alone to gather his things.
Alone with his scattered thoughts, now worse than ever.

Bucky thinks being dragged outside and shot might've been kinder.

A/N: If you think Phillips is being OOC, be patient. There is a reason for what he's doing here, and you'll see it in a few more chapters.

You might not like him any better afterwards, but it will make more sense.