Chapter 11 Confession
Steve opened the door to his bedroom and peeked inside. He held a large glass of ice water in his hand. Bucky was still on his side, snoring slightly, his mouth open. A small pool of drool was on Steve's pillow. There were only two other times he could remember seeing Bucky completely drunk, and one was after Steve's mother had died. Bucky had convinced him to spend the night at his place, and they'd worked their way through a bottle of whiskey. Steve had been much more of a lightweight—literally and figuratively back then—so he hadn't lasted nearly as long as Bucky.
But he remembered feeling the room spin, and Bucky's arm sliding around his shoulder, pulling him close. That had been the final straw to the wall he'd erected in front of his grief. He had no family left…no one except Bucky. He remembered sobbing against Bucky, then at some point passing out and waking up the next morning feeling embarrassed. Bucky had said he couldn't remember much of anything after the fourth shot, but Steve could tell he was lying.
The other time he'd seen Bucky drunk was after he'd escaped with Steve from the German base and gotten back to camp. After a medical exam and a particularly grueling debriefing with Allied intelligence officers, they'd gone out for some R&R with a few of the guys, and Bucky had downed quite a few shots that night, though he seemed to hold his liquor a lot better. Looking back, Steve didn't know whether Bucky had actually been drunk or faked it. Steve hadn't been sure whether Bucky had been celebrating or trying to forget being strapped to Zola's table.
Steve closed the door and set the glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. He sank onto the floor and leaned against the wall next to the head of the bed. The chair had been starting to get uncomfortable. He pulled his cellphone out of his denim pocket and scrolled through the day's news.
It was all about the "Blip," as it was being called now. Happy reunions. An article on the long-term impact of the reduction of greenhouse gases. A video on the awkward situation around property rights and compensation after homeowners returned to find their houses had been sold.
The low audio from the mobile newscast must have broken through Bucky's alcohol-and- fatigue-induced slumber, because the other man groaned. Steve watched Bucky's eyelids open slowly, then blink as his confused blue eyes took in his surroundings. Finally, his gaze spotted Steve, and his brow furrowed for a moment. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard, his expression twisting to revulsion.
"Where am I?" He croaked, looking around again.
"In my room." Steve grabbed the glass from the nightstand and held it out to Bucky. "How's the hangover?"
Bucky swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position. He glanced at the glass and took it with a grateful smile, downing the water quickly and leaving nothing but ice.
Bucky set the glass back on the stand, rested his forehead in his hands, and gave a long sigh. "Not great, but not as bad as I remember them feeling. Frankly, I don't think I'm entirely sober yet."
"So, are you still mad at me?"
"Yes."
Steve sighed heavily. "We're still friends, though, right?"
Bucky looked up at him incredulously and muttered, "Don't be a dumbass." A weak smile touched his lips. "Nothing'll ever change that on my end…short of getting my memory wiped…or having a telepath mess with my head."
"She was trying to help. Even the younger you thought it might be worth a try. It ended up being a bad idea in hindsight. I'm sorry."
Bucky dropped his head back into his hands. "I know. How is she?"
"She's been holed up in her room ever since. Nat spoke with her, but she's pretty devastated. With Vision, it's been a lot for her, and this was another blow."
"I should probably go talk to her. She's just a kid, I know."
"Not quite, but she's close enough, especially compared to us."
Bucky lifted his head and gave a smile at that. "Compared to us, everyone is." His smile faded, and he dropped his head again. "Look, Steve, the younger me mentioned that, um…"
"It's okay. You could've told me."
"I don't feel that way now, just so you know." Bucky looked back up at him. "We've both changed. You left. I've got a whole new life. A messed up one, but whatever… It doesn't need to be weird between us."
He should be relieved that Bucky had moved on, so why did it feel like a hole opened up in his chest? "I'm glad."
-0- -0- -0-
Bucky tapped on the door lightly, listening for movement inside. He heard the rustle of fabric, then a soft, "Who is it?"
"Bucky." He hoped his tone sounded amicable enough.
"Come in," came the hesitant reply.
Bucky opened the door to see Wanda sitting on her bed. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was the tip of her nose. She held a tissue in her hand and wiped quickly at her nose, then scooted over toward the far edge of the bed.
Bucky entered and closed the door behind him. The room was nice, with muted gray walls and colorful poofs scattered along the floor. A guitar rested against the far wall.
He sat on the opposite side of the mattress and pointed to the guitar. "Do you play?"
She shook her head. "Not well. My brother liked to mess around on the guitar, though."
Right. Bucky had learned enough about Wanda over the past couple of years. He remembered hearing that she'd had a brother who'd sacrificed himself to save Clint and a child. Crap. She'd known almost nothing but loss. He knew what that felt like.
He wasn't sure how to start the conversation, so he just dove in. "I know you only meant to help. The way I reacted, well…"
She shook her head and dropped it forward. "You don't have to explain." Her voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry."
"I know you are. It's okay. Really." He ducked his head to get a better look at her face. "No harm done, other than to my pride." He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
She raised her head and met his gaze. "You're…okay?"
He nodded and tapped his forehead with one finger. "Yeah. Just no more messing around up here. It's all held together with duct tape and string."
She managed a weak chuckle at that. "I won't. I promise."
-0- -0- -0-
When Bucky made his way back to the kitchen, he saw the group clustered around the sofa and armchairs. He only caught the tail end of the conversation from Tony, who was slouched in the armchair and mentioning something about a quantum signature to Shuri, who sat elegantly in the opposite armchair. Bruce and Natasha were on the couch, and Steve was leaned back in one of the dining chairs next to Buck and Sam.
The conversation died the moment he walked into the room. Bucky gave them a two-finger wave, trying not to appear as self-conscious as he felt. He spotted the empty platters on the kitchen counter and stopped in his tracks when he saw the refrigerator. One door was completely missing.
He pointed to it. "The coffee table couldn't have done that. What happened?"
His younger self spoke up. "The vibranium arm. There was a…hiccup."
Bucky nodded. He had almost forgotten about that. Shortly after the battle with Thanos ended, he'd had a couple of similar hiccups. "Yeah, I remember that." He raised the arm. "It's all good now."
Wanda entered, and Bucky felt slightly guilty for the relief he felt that all eyes were suddenly on her instead of him. She gave a tiny smile to the group, then hurried to the dining table and dropped into one of the empty chairs.
"How are you feeling, White Wolf?" Shuri asked.
"Hungry." He eyed the empty platters.
"So, what? No hangover?" Tony asked. "I'm jealous."
"Just a small headache," Bucky offered. "Super serum recovery." He tried for a smile but thought it might have ended up looking more like a grimace. "Where's Clint?"
"Back home with the family," Steve said.
"How is your arm?" Shuri asked. "I can disable the geolocation feature for you, if you like."
He nodded at her. "I'd like." Then he turned, eyeing the time device resting on the counter briefly before inspecting the empty refrigerator. "You seriously didn't leave me anything?"
"You snooze, you lose," Natasha quipped.
"Quit your belly-aching," Sam said. "We've got food on the way, if they can manage to get past the reporters and aren't too put off by the Wakandans. We promised a big tip."
Bucky leaned forward against the counter and rubbed at his right temple. He hadn't had a headache since..well…Hydra. But that had been a whole different kind of headache. It was oddly nice to just have a normal, garden variety, alcohol-induced one.
Tony stood up and walked up to him. "So, we read the letter Sam wrote you."
Come on, man. Bucky dropped his head forward. Couldn't they give him a break? "You all really need to learn boundaries."
"Probably," Tony slapped the countertop, "but we can work on that later. Now, we're talking about the whole you going to the Raft thing. What gives?"
Bucky lifted his head, suddenly feeling every one hundred and six of his years, and realized that at least three of the people in the room would not let this go. He could either lie, but Steve would pick up on that, or tell the truth, and well…he really didn't want to have to explain that whole mess.
How could he ever get anyone to understand that he'd helped Zemo escape from prison?
Zemo.
T'Challa and Shuri certainly wouldn't understand. Neither would Stark. He already knew how Sam would react.
And he'd have to tell him about the lives that decision had affected. On the practical side, he knew that, right now, Nagel was blipped back into existence. The Power Broker would find the doctor, and the Flag Smashers would start doing their thing. He could stop all of that before it even began by telling the Avengers everything.
As he met Stark's dark gaze, he decided the entire conversation would go a lot easier if he didn't have to watch their reactions. He'd probably get through it a lot faster, too. He moved to the window and leaned against the pane, feeling the breeze from the broken one brush against his face and neck.
The cool air felt wonderful. He gazed out over the cluster of tents against the twilight landscape. If he didn't know any better, he could almost imagine he was back in base camp, in 1944.
"Bucky?" Steve prodded. "Come on, man."
They definitely weren't going to let this go.
Bucky figured he might as well get it over with. "After the Blip, things got difficult for some people. There's a group that cropped up called the Flag Smashers. They wanted to keep things the way they were during the Blip rather than have people be resettled to where they originally came from. Sam was tracking them. They were stealing things, escalating their tactics. They were strong. Turns out, they got their hands on more supersoldier serum. A lot of it. At first, we didn't know how much. We encountered eight supersoldiers. We didn't know where they were getting the serum or how many more of them there were. If they were creating an army…" he took a breath, imagining all the damage he had done over the past 80 years, "…it would be bad." He looked over at Steve briefly. "You know how much damage just one of me did. Can you imagine hundreds of me?"
Steve bowed his head sympathetically, a silent urge to continue.
Bucky looked back over the tents. "I thought Hydra had something to do with it. I didn't know for sure, but they were a good guess, and they don't play nice. Were they doing to others what they did to me? How much serum did they have? What were their plans? The world is in a delicate place. Where there's chaos and sudden change, there's opportunity for de-stabilization. For conquest." He took a deep breath before moving to the next part of the story. "I thought Zemo would have information. I knew what I needed to do to get that information. Nothing much mattered to me except finding out how many supersoldiers there were and where that serum was coming from. That was the mission, and the mission at all costs, right? If there were some casualties, those would be acceptable losses. So many more lives would be lost if the wrong person created an army of supersoldiers. The math was undeniable. That's what I thought, so….I helped Zemo break out of jail. He killed one guard, and I got another guard injured in the prison fight I caused to create a diversion." His throat closed for a moment, and he stopped to swallow, forcing a slow, deep breath into his lungs. The room was silent, and he didn't dare look at any of their faces. "It turns out that Hydra had nothing to do with the new supersoldiers. It was someone called the Power Broker who was trying to create them to sell to the highest bidder.
"We had to go to Madripoor to find that out. I played the part of the Winter Soldier… pretended that Zemo controlled me." The last word caught in his throat.
God….Saying it all out loud sounded terrible.
"Just an undercover assignment, right?" Bucky forced himself to continue. "I've done worse. Again, the mission. That's all that mattered. Zemo sure knows how to push buttons, and he will push them as hard as he can. Anyway, my performance was captured on cell phone videos, so that got out. After my pardon, it didn't go over well. At the time, I didn't know about the guards in Berlin, though. I found out only recently.
"The leader of the Flag Smashers—she was just a girl really. Her name is Karli Morgentheu. She stole the serum and used it to create a small army of supersoldiers to force the world to bow to their demands. They stole medicines, killed people. They took hostages…members of the Global Repatriation Council. They were going to kill them. They almost succeeded. We stopped them. Barely. There was a lot more to it. A lot more going on with the new Captain America and the shield and Sam, and I just…" he shook his head. "Ayo wasn't happy with me. She tried to take Zemo into custody, but then Walker, the new Captain America, wasn't having it. He wanted Zemo. They fought. I intervened. I didn't think she was going to kill him, but she…I don't know, she looked like she might seriously injure him. We fought. I was just trying to get her talk about it, but she wasn't in the mood. That's when I found out that she could take the arm off. Anyway, I'm not exactly welcome in Wakanda for the immediate future." He took another deep breath, imaging that look on Ayo's face when she'd said, 'Bast damn you, James!' and how, in that moment, he felt betrayed—that their friendship had been a lie. They'd never trusted him. They just saw him as a broken man that they had a duty to fix, and they made sure to include appropriate safeguards that they didn't bother to disclose to him.
The irony of it all was that they had been right to include those safeguards.
"I did turn Zemo in after it was all over, and he's in the Raft now." Bucky couldn't help the pained chuckle that escaped him. "And for my part in all of that—for getting a guard killed—Leon Klein is his name, that's where they're probably going to send me. Supersoldiers don't get regular prison cells. So, the poetic justice in all of this is that I will get to spend the rest of my life in the same prison as Zemo. I can only hope we're far enough away that I don't have to listen to him yammer on for the rest of my life. He's convinced the Winter Soldier is still inside me, and he'll spend every day trying to prove that."
Bucky paused to take a breath as he gazed at the orange sliver of sun still hovering above the torn horizon. "But when it comes down to it, I did it. I'm the reason Leon Klein was killed. I'm the reason that the guy making the serum is dead. He wasn't a saint, but we found him, and Zemo managed to find a gun and execute him. That wasn't the plan. Wilfred Nagel is his name, and right about now, he's one of the half who returned from the Blip. He worked for Hydra, then when Hydra fell, the CIA recruited him. Soon, the Power Broker will recruit him. I can't say whether he deserved to die, but I do know that guard in Berlin didn't. He was just doing his job, keeping bad guys behind bars…one really bad guy that I helped free, and in doing so, I got him killed and another guard seriously injured. So," Bucky shrugged, "there you have it. I can't blame any of that on the Winter Soldier or Hydra. That was all me."
Bucky closed his eyes, pushing back the sting of tears. Since he was being honest, he might as well tell it all exactly the way it was. "They arrested me. I broke out, but escape wasn't my primary goal. I deserve to face the consequences. I figured I had nothing to lose and, well, this idea had come to me before. I just…" He shook his head. "That's a long story." He opened his eyes and focused on one of the tents in the distance, using it as an anchor. "Anyway, I haven't done a lot of good. The body count keeps piling up. I thought maybe I could help some other timeline. Make amends. Save Tony. Erase some of what the Winter Soldier did—Howard and Maria Stark, Yori's son, a few others. Bring back Natasha, Vision, make things…better. I knew it wouldn't affect my timeline, but at least it would make a difference somewhere else…to some other Morgan and some other Yori. I know we're not supposed to mess with timelines, but Steve already did. Frankly, so did the rest of you when getting the stones—there were hiccups. The universe was still ticking along. And, in the end, I'd still face the consequences for my decisions and Leon Klein's family would have the justice they deserved. They wouldn't know it, but they'd still have it. And, to be honest, I found that idea a whole lot preferable to spending my life in the Raft with Zemo." He paused for a moment, listening to the oppressive silence. "It was a perfect plan, too. I spent hours going over footage, notes, finding the right moment to grab the gauntlet. And it worked…until Steve and Dr. Strange decided to save me." His chest felt tight, and it became harder to breathe. "Now you know. I came here really for me, as a way out. I'm no hero, just a messed-up guy with serum in his veins, and that makes me a danger. Zemo was right about one thing. The serum corrupts. It amplifies. What it amplifies in me isn't good, and nothing can ever change that."
The room was still completely silent. He couldn't make himself look at anyone, so he decided to just keep talking. "If you can send me back, I'll go. I'll face the consequences for my actions. Sam gave me some help. I tried to keep him out of it as much as possible, but on the off chance he's getting any flack for this, I need to be there to make sure he doesn't pay the consequences for my decisions. I've ruined enough lives as it is." Heat stung his eyes, and the tent's image blurred. "So there you have it. This is the guy many of you sacrificed two years of your lives to save." He didn't dare blink, lest the tears spilled onto his cheeks.
He let the silence linger for several long seconds and then he sucked in a breath and forced himself to look over. He inwardly jumped when he realized Steve was a foot away, staring at him with eyes that radiated something that he thought looked like a mix of reproach and pity. Bucky hadn't even heard Steve move, much less approach.
-0- -0- -0-
Steve could practically feel the pain and self-loathing wafting from his friend as something physical in the air. Bucky's words painted a visual picture of a world in chaos and a very traumatized, imperfect man struggling to make his way in all of it. The thought of a mere five super soldiers in Siberia had spurred him and Bucky to do some desperate things back in Berlin. The thought of an army of super soldiers was incomprehensible.
And if Bucky thought any one of them had been an unwilling victim, like he had been…
Steve couldn't condone breaking out someone like Zemo, but he couldn't second guess Bucky's actions, either. He'd told Wanda not too long ago that sometimes we can't save everybody. Sometimes, people die in this job, and if we can't find a way to live with that, nobody gets saved.
He saw the unshed tears in Bucky's eyes as he stood there, inches away. Bucky hadn't even acknowledged his presence—he just stared out, leaning against the glass as though it were the only thing keeping him upright, and excoriating himself for all to see.
Finally, Bucky turned his head, and Steve saw the surprise in his eyes. It caused the tears to spill onto his cheeks, and his chin quivered. He quickly looked away, returning his gaze to a distant point outside. Steve couldn't find the right words, and saying the wrong thing would be devastating to both of them. Instead, he reached out to put a hand on Bucky's shoulder.
He felt the hint of tremors beneath his grip.
"Don't." Bucky's voice was low and strained. "Please."
It was the desperate "please" that caused Steve to drop his hand. He felt the plea in his gut. He wanted somehow to comfort Bucky, but he didn't know how, anymore. Back in their day, he could always reach out and put a hand around his friend or pull him into a hug. Bucky had been so much more affectionate then.
But Hydra had brutalized Bucky in so many ways and for so long, that the days of him being comfortable with that kind of vulnerable affection were long over…and that hurt just to think about. All Steve wanted to do was pull Bucky into one of those hugs and tell him he understood, it would all be okay, and they'd figure it out.
Because Bucky had spent so many decades having his body and mind violated and his consent deemed irrelevant, Steve dared not risk doing that to his friend. He looked over at the younger Buck who was leaning forward in the chair, his eyes focused on his future counterpart. Steve knew his friend well enough to recognize the self-doubt and fear behind that gaze. Buck had to deal with so many different things being thrown at him in a short period of time, with almost no time to process or even understand most of it. Listening to the whirlwind of self-loathing words from another version of himself had to be devastating to his own sense of recovery.
Buck's gaze shifted to Steve, and Steve hoped he'd find some guidance in those eyes. Buck simply shook his head tersely. Neither of them had any idea how to help the desolate man in front of them. Steve looked to Sam next. At least he had some experience dealing with traumatized soldiers.
Sam rose from the chair and slowly approached. He stopped a few feet away, giving both men space. "No one here can have any idea what you're experiencing or what you've been through. We aren't going to second guess decisions in what sounds like a pretty impossible situation. Every single one of us has made decisions that cost lives…decisions we rehash and regret every day, so we're not in any position to judge anything about what you did. None of that is relevant."
Bucky closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand quickly across his face, then leaned his head against the glass. Steve could still see the subtle tremors that coursed through his friend's body.
"I'm sorry," Sam continued. "We've pushed you to share things you weren't ready to share. We've invaded your privacy—myself included. We did it because we're trying to help you, but it wasn't right. You get to set the pace from now on. If you don't want to talk, you don't have to talk. If you just want to sit in a room and stare at the ceiling, go ahead. If you want to punch something, we'll get you something to punch. If or when you're ready to talk or cry or yell, we'll be here for you."
Steve felt an overwhelming sense of relief that Sam was there. This was Sam's true superpower. Steve turned his gaze back to Bucky, who was once again staring outside. The tears were running more freely now, silent in their escape, but that's all the indication Bucky gave that he heard a word Sam said.
Tony spoke up, leaning forward in the armchair. "You saved the world—our world. I don't care what you did in your timeline. You brought back my parents, Natasha, you gave Rhodes his legs back, and for crying out loud, you reversed global warming and cleaned up the planet. You know what I did when I had the stones? According to you, I destroyed Thanos' army. That's all. Nothing else. You know what Bruce did? He brought back half the population. You worked through a list. Because of you, this timeline we're all living in is kind of awesome. So, like I said, I don't give a rat's ass what you did in your time. I don't even care if you really came here to kill yourself and saving me and my parents was just the cherry on top. That doesn't change the fact that you did save me and you did bring back my parents, and you did all those other things while you were busy dying. You're here. We're here, and the only other thing I have to say is….Thank you." Tony sighed.
Tony's words hung in the air for a few moments.
Then Natasha cleared her throat and added, softly, "You're not the only one in this room who has done things they regret, who made a decision that hurt an innocent person."
The subtle quiver on that last word caused Steve to study her face. He saw something in her eyes that told him she was thinking of something specific and deeply painful.
"Yeah, none of us are judging," Bruce added. "I'm sure there's a way we can help you. It doesn't seem right you going back to your time to risk spending the rest of your life in a prison cell…especially not after all the good you've done here."
Shuri rose from the armchair and shifted so that she was facing Bucky. "White Wolf, why did you not return to Wakanda in your timeline after the fight with Thanos? We could have assisted with your continued recovery."
Bucky rubbed his eyes with his fingers and then glanced at her. "There was Tony's funeral, then Steve had to return the stones. Shortly after that, I was arrested…and there was, you know," he shrugged, "a high-tech jail cell, lawyers, therapists, courts. I was granted a conditional pardon, but it meant regular visits with a court-appointed therapist in New York. I managed to miss one of those while dealing with the supersoldiers, and they wasted no time issuing a warrant for my arrest."
Steve closed his eyes as he imagined all that, and it made him suddenly furious at his alternate self for leaving Bucky to deal with that fallout. Had that other Steve even thought about what might be next for Bucky, or had he just assumed his friend would be okay with Sam watching out for him? Instead, of having Steve in his corner, Bucky had ended up once again in a cage, a victim of a justice system that didn't truly understand what had been done to him and siphoned him into a conventional regime of forced therapy and check-ins with someone who, no matter how competent, couldn't possibly have been as much of a help to him as Shuri and the Wakandans.
"Screw that. Not gonna happen here," Tony said suddenly, looking at the younger Buck. "The lawyers are already working on it. You had no control over what you did, so there's no criminal intent. Factually innocent, which means no conditions because no crime, but we're already working on a full unconditional pardon prior to any charges being filed to short-circuit any legal proceedings." Tony paced back and forth a few steps. "As for Berlin and your resisting arrest thing, well, they had orders to shoot to kill onsite. Self-defense. And the airport? That's on me." He cocked his head. "Money buys the best legal representation, and that's something I can do for you this time around."
The younger Buck looked stunned but managed to give a grateful, shaky nod to Tony. Steve made a mental note to have words with Tony later. He needed to let him know how much his support meant to him and both Buckys.
Shuri also expressed her obvious gratitude to Tony with a smile, then turned back to Bucky and asked softly, "Do you remember back in my lab, after we freed you from the control words…the discussion you had with myself and Amwerri about Winter Soldier conditioning?"
Steve turned his attention back to Bucky, taking a couple steps back to give him space. He knew Bucky well enough to recognize the man's inner struggle to keep his composure. Bucky pulled away from the glass and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He shifted to look at Shuri. Somehow, his eyes looked bluer, more intense. Bucky always wore his emotions in his eyes…even as the Winter Soldier, and that's one of the reasons Steve had known back on the helicarrier that his friend was still somewhere inside the soldier Hydra had created.
Bucky nodded at her.
"We were able to remove the effect of the code words," Shuri continued, "but not even our technology can completely eliminate the affects of decades of intense psychological conditioning and trauma. To do so would be to destroy the person you are and leave someone else in your place. That would have been murder."
"We discussed that," the younger Buck interjected. "I remember."
Shuri glanced at Buck briefly and nodded, then returned her attention to Bucky and continued, "The conditioning you experienced to become the Winter Soldier involved more than just code words. It involved emotional repression, biddability, compliance, and mission imperative."
Bucky's eyes never left her face. When he spoke, his voice was shaky, strained. "I know that."
She tilted her head sympathetically. "I know that you do, and that is why you can defeat it, but such defeat will take time. You spoke of the mission frequently and that you felt that you needed to complete it. That is how you were conditioned. You were brought out of cryogenic stasis only when it was time for a mission, and each time, your mind was wiped and you were provided the details of the new mission. Once you completed the mission, you would provide a mission report, and when there was no longer a need for you, you were returned to cryogenic stasis. You therefore only ever existed when there was a mission, and the mission was always paramount."
Steve watched Bucky's expression shift in consideration of her words. The despair and self-loathing on his face morphed to something akin to realization, and then horror. He slid down the glass pane to sit on the floor, his knees bent and his arms draped over his legs, then looked up at Shuri.
"You're saying the code words may be gone, but the Winter Soldier isn't?" Bucky took a deep breath and dropped his head on arms. "You're right. I don't know how to exist outside of a mission. I just keep going from one mission to another. The fight with Thanos….working through my list of amends….stopping the supersoldiers and finding the serum….and finally, coming back here to get the gauntlet. It's all just been one mission after another." He raised his head and gazed at Steve. "That's all I'm good for. I don't know how to do anything else. I've just been…" he swallowed and looked away, "existing. Going through the motions convincingly enough to satisfy the government that I can live like a normal human being in society, but…I can't. That isn't possible for someone like me."
Steve lowered himself to the floor near the armchair closest to Bucky and leaned his back against the chair. "That's not true, Bucky." The hopeless desperation in his friend's voice tore at him. "It is possible. You've been doing it. Look at everything you've done for the people in this room. Give yourself time to adjust, and to heal."
Shuri's tone was gentle when she spoke. "Captain Rogers is correct. I did not mean to imply that you are still the Winter Soldier or that you are incapable of existing outside of a mission. My hope is to help you understand that your brain has been conditioned a certain way for 80 years, and it will take more than the brief time you have been free of the Winter Soldier programming to counter that conditioning. You cannot defeat such conditioning, however, until you recognize that you are affected by it." She knelt in front of him. "Much progress has already been made. You are free of the code words. You've overcome the aversive conditioning associated with your name. You have your memory and identity back—and you did that part all on your own, White Wolf, even before you came to Wakanda. You are stronger than you think." She sighed heavily, sympathetically. "But I also know that you have been pushed, many times, to the limits of human endurance for longer than any other person who ever lived has, according to what we know. You must give yourself time and leniency. Know that you will experience great progress, but also great setbacks, and forgive yourself for those setbacks. They are an inevitable part of the recovery process."
Bucky stared quietly at her for several seconds, obviously considering her words. Steve wasn't sure what was going on in his friend's head until he saw the slight dip of his chin and the flash of guilt in those blue eyes.
"My setbacks," Bucky began, his voice low, "cost other people their lives." He straightened and took a breath. "Do you have a way to send me back to my timeline?"
Steve understood what Bucky wasn't saying, and it made him suddenly angry. "You don't belong locked up, Bucky. Stay here. There's a place for you here."
Bucky shook his head. "I'm not going to leave Sam to deal with whatever he might be dealing with. I'd be wondering the rest of my life if he paid a price for helping me. Besides," he pushed himself to his feet, "I should face the consequences for my actions. It's the right thing to do. I can't change what I did, but I can own up to it."
Steve stood up to face Bucky. He had to get through to him. He couldn't let the other man throw his life away. There were other means of making amends. Saving lives. Helping people. Bucky had so much potential, and he'd already paid more dearly than anyone ever should thanks to Hydra.
"Owning up doesn't mean giving up. You don't have to go back and turn yourself in."
Bucky smiled softly at him. "You would man. You did. Back in '43. When we got back to base camp. You walked right up and surrendered yourself."
"That's different." Steve shook his head. "And you're forgetting I didn't surrender myself this last time for violating the Accords. I was on the run for two years."
"Because of me," Bucky retorted. "Enough is enough, man. Focus on that guy," he jerked his chin toward his younger self, who straightened suddenly, then Bucky continued, "He maybe still has a shot." A flash or regret crossed Bucky's face as he met his counterpart's gaze and added, "I'm sorry man. When I had the stones, I could've fixed you. I didn't even think about it. I spent hours going over the list, adding things, scratching things off, and I never once thought about doing that."
Sam took a step closer to Bucky and said, "Maybe it's time you started thinking about yourself. Look, man, I don't know what happened in the future, but I saw that hologram. I know that you jumped out of a plane without a chute to help me…and I could tell that was the last thing you wanted to do, but you did it, anyway. You put yourself last, man. Start putting yourself first every once in a while. You are worth it. I don't know why you think you aren't. You have a room full of people here who went through a lot to help you because we believe you're worth it. And, frankly, you proved us right. If we hadn't helped you back then, things would have gone a lot differently with Thanos. A lot of people wouldn't be here."
Bucky walked up to Sam and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks man. That's why I need to head back to my timeline, if I can. You stuck your neck out for me. I'm not going to leave you hanging."
"I can take care of myself."
"Yes, you can, but you already gave up enough for me." Bucky smiled sadly. "You have Sarah and the boys to think about. They lost you once, and they need you in their lives. I'm going back because it's the right thing to do for everyone." He turned to Shuri and asked her, "So? Verdict on getting me back?"
She faced him with a slump of regret in her shoulders. "It is possible. On a quantum level, as we all progress through a timeline, there are subtle changes to the fundamental particles that make up our atoms. These changes can be used as a signature. Because you traveled here from your timeline, that signature is readily available…both from the time device and from your own subatomic configuration. It should be a relatively simple matter to create a device that stores and recognizes that signature."
Tony stood and strolled up to them. "Already in the works, and almost done. That tablet you provided was quite useful. It pretty much had everything we needed to understand that little device. I'm not thrilled about the idea of sending you back to your timeline, but it's your choice. Since the alternative is to make you stay here against your will, you get to call the shots. All we have to do is attach the device to you, send you backward before the timeline split, and then forward again. The device will route you back to your timeline, much like a railroad track switch directs the path of a train."
"How safe is it?" Steve asked. An idea was forming on a way he might be able to help future Bucky.
Tony shrugged. "In theory, it should work. Of course, it's never been tested, and it's not like there's a way to test it. It requires a time branch and quantum signature, so Barnes' trip back will be the test run."
Shuri nodded. "The science is, however, sound. It should work."
"Okay then." Steve walked up to the time device resting on the counter near the refrigerator and picked it up. "You go back, I go back."
"What?" Both Bucky's chimed simultaneously.
Steve looked at the younger one. "Don't worry, buddy. I'm coming back." He glanced at Tony and Shuri, then asked. "Can I do that? Can I go with him and then get back to this timeline?"
"No way," Bucky said, stepping closer to Steve, his shoulders square, challenging.
Tony nodded. "Yeah. We'll make you a quantum signature lock. All you have to do is come back again before the split, activate the signature lock, and go forward. It'll route you here."
"Not gonna happen." Bucky walked up to Steve, but Steve slid away, the time device held in his hand.
"Non-negotiable," Steve told his friend. "If you're going back, I'm going with you. I'm going to do my best to make sure they don't lock you up…even if I have to pound every door in Washington and Berlin. I'm betting a visit from an MIA Captain America will turn a few heads, don't you?"
Bucky bit his lower lip in obvious frustration. "This has never been tested. You're risking your life. I'm not gonna let you do that."
Steve glanced at Shuri. "How big is the risk?"
She sighed. "The theory is solid. I believe it will work flawlessly. However, there is no guarantee."
"What are the chances it goes wrong?" Steve asked.
Shuri looked at Tony, obviously pondering the question, then replied, "Slim. There is a chance during either trip that the quantum signature won't be properly read, and you'll travel to the other timeline…or potentially to another timeline with a similar quantum signature. However, that would be highly unlikely. If that did happen, you could attempt to travel back again before the split and then re-boot the signature lock. With a second attempt forward, the signature lock would likely direct you to the correct timeline."
Steve nodded. That was good enough for him. "That's an acceptable risk." He looked at Bucky, then added firmly. "I'm going with you."
"No," Bucky's voice was firm, "you're not." He held out his hand. "Give that to me."
Steve shook his head. "Nope."
"Steve…" Bucky warned, taking a breath. "Give it to me."
"Not gonna happen, buddy."
Bucky smiled incredulously and shook his head. "You really are a punk, man." When Bucky looked back, there was genuine affection in his eyes. "Okay. We'll do it your way."
Bucky walked up to him and reached out a hand as if to clasp him on the shoulder, but Steve knew the man. He'd always been pretty good at telling when Bucky was lying, so he was ready and evaded Bucky's attempt to redirect at the last minute and grab the device.
"Come on, damnit!" Bucky took a breath, eyed Steve firmly, then lunged forward.
Steve side stepped quickly, but Bucky anticipated the move and swept a leg out, taking Steve's out from under him. Bucky's vibranium hand made a play for the time device still clutched in Steve's hand, trying to save it from any impact, but Steve was way ahead of him, holding it up and twisting his upper body to avoid the grab.
"Steve, I swear…" Bucky grabbed Steve's waistband and hauled him backward.
Steve found himself in a wrestling match on the floor with Bucky, clutching the time device like a football as Bucky's hands attempted to wrestle it from his grip.
"You're gonna break it!" Bucky yelled angrily.
"You're gonna break it if you don't back off, and then you'll have no choice but to be stuck here." Steve hoped that thought would get through to his friend.
Steve felt an elbow jab hard in his right side, knocking the breath from him long enough for Bucky to wrap his vibranium arm around Steve's wrist and yank upward. Steve kept his hand firmly gripped around the device even as Bucky tried to use pressure on the wrist to get Steve to release.
"Let go of it," Bucky hissed, yanking Steve to his feet.
"You know I won't," Steve countered.
Steve watched the frustration play over Bucky's face, and finally his friend turned to look at his younger counterpart while still keeping a firm hold on Steve's wrist. "Are you going to help me out here," Bucky asked his younger self, "or just watch?"
Buck raised his hands and shook his head. "I'm staying out of this one."
Bucky's jaw clenched, and Steve saw the intense blue eyes snap back toward him. Determination lined his friend's face, and Steve knew he wasn't going to relent so easily. The vibranium hand clenched harder around his wrist. Steve felt his tendons squeezed. His radius ached. Still, he kept his grip on the device and his gaze locked with Bucky's.
He heard the younger Buck get to his feet suddenly, but Steve wasn't worried. He knew both Bucky's, and he knew how to play this one. He had no intention of giving in because that meant Bucky would likely spend the rest of his life in a cage.
"Damnit, Steve!" Bucky released his grip on Steve's wrist with an angry jerk backward. Then, he shoved himself forward, inches from Steve's face, and whispered, "You were gonna let me break your wrist, weren't you?"
Steve pulled the device closer to him and held Bucky's angry gaze. "You weren't going to break my wrist." He'd known that all along.
Bucky huffed with disbelief and stumbled backward a few steps. "You… he pointed angrily at Steve, "need to stop trusting me like that."
Steve set his shoulders back firmly. "I trust you with my life. Always have. Always will."
Bucky sank into the empty armchair closest to him, his shoulders slumped with defeat, and shook his head. "I literally tried to kill you a few hours ago, man."
Steve leaned against the arm of the couch. "That wasn't really you, and that wasn't your fault."
Bucky looked up at him. "Why are you doing this? You're risking your life for nothing. You can't help me. This isn't like Vienna. This time, I actually did what they've accused me of."
"This isn't up for discussion, anymore." Steve was tired of arguing in circles with Bucky. "I'm going back with you, and we're going to check all the boxes. We'll make sure Sam's in the clear. I'll do whatever I can to make sure you don't spend the rest of your life in a cell, and if it doesn't work out, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I'll have as much time as I need, and when I come back here, I'll have only been gone a few minutes."
And, if need be, Steve added silently, you'll be coming back with me…and we'll figure it all out from there.
Bucky sighed. "Seems like I don't have much of a choice about it."
Steve hated the way Bucky phrased that, but he couldn't disagree. "Not about this."
"Great." Tony clapped his hands. "Give us a few…, or, uh, maybe a bit more than a few...hours and we'll have both quantum signature locks ready to go."
Sam walked up to Bucky—who looked completely dejected slouched in the armchair—and tapped him lightly on the arm. "Looks like you've got a few hours of guaranteed freedom. Anything you want to do?"
-0- -0- -0-
Bucky popped more nuts into his mouth and then took a swig of beer. He, Sam, and his younger self were lounging on the couch in the entertainment room in front of a high-definition, theater-sized screen on the wall. Empty containers of delivered Chinese food rested on the small coffee table in front of the couch.
Bucky hadn't really gotten into the whole T.V. thing. No one had home televisions back in the early 40s, and as the Winter Soldier, he'd simply gone from mission to cryo to mission again. It was only during the past year, after Wakanda, that he even had access to a television.
The only thing he ever really watched on a television, other than a couple of things in Steve's book, was news. It was all very new to him. The commercials were…a lot. Loud. Obnoxious. He hadn't yet figured out its appeal, but apparently binge watching was a thing.
So, when he told Sam he wanted to see if binge watching was all it was supposedly cracked up to be, the other man had almost gleefully shown him the streaming services and told him there would be no commercials, then asked him what he was in the mood to watch. There were almost limitless options.
Considering everything that had happened and what was likely in his future, he'd said comedy, and now he was watching something called 3rd Rock from the Sun about aliens—again with the aliens—but at least these ones weren't trying to take over the planet. He wasn't even sure they were smart, though he did get a kick out of the old guy in the kid's body and the security officer as a towering, no-nonsense woman named Sally.
It wasn't until he saw the character named Sally blissfully making meatloaf and suddenly realize she had dead cow on her hands that he grasped the appeal of the show and, for the first time in a long time, let out a surprised, genuine laugh and took another sip of his beer. The effects of the vodka had worn off a little while ago, and the beer was about as strong as water for his enhanced system. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered drinking it at all.
"Ah, so you like this show?" Sam asked with a smile.
Bucky tilted his head. "It's not bad. A little silly."
"Hey, sometimes silly is just what we need."
Bucky took another sip of his beer. Silliness wasn't something he'd had much of since about 1943.
When the episode ended, his young counterpart glanced over at him. "We haven't had much of an opportunity to talk."
"Not much to talk about."
"You've got nothing for me? Tips. Warnings. What am I doing? Do you have a job? Where do you live?"
Bucky took a breath as he picked up the remote and stopped the streaming service from automatically moving onto the next episode. "This is a whole new timeline, so just because my life is a certain way, doesn't mean your life will be a certain way. No, I don't have a formal job. I've helped Sam out a few times," he glanced at the Falcon, who raised his eyebrows, "so you can call me a consultant for the government. I live in a tiny Brooklyn apartment. There's nothing much to tell."
"You mentioned something about a list of amends?" Buck shifted to look at him.
Bucky closed his eyes briefly. He didn't want to think about any of that. He really just wanted to turn off his brain and watch the stupid show. "It was something the therapist suggested I work on. Not everyone I helped put into power as the Winter soldier ended up behind bars, so I gathered evidence on put them away. For victims of the Winter soldier, there's not much I can do to make amends. I could give a couple of family members closure, tell them what happened, answer questions, let them yell at or curse me."
Sam shifted toward him. "Did it help?"
Bucky shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it helped one or two."
"Did it help you?" Sam clarified.
As Bucky dipped his head to look at Sam, he was sure the answer to that question was written on his face. "Not really."
Buck pushed up from the couch. "It's been an enlightening conversation," he said, sarcasm evident in his cocked eyebrow. "I've got to head to the medical tent for another therapy session with this arm. Have a blast." He pointed to the T.V. and walked a bit too quicky out of the room.
Bucky 's pressed play on the next episode when a deep voice intruded.
"Ah, there you are, man from the future."
Bucky looked up to see Thor walking toward him. Natasha was right behind him. Bucky furrowed his brow and studied the large Asgardian, wondering why he was suddenly back.
Thor plopped himself down on the couch next to Bucky and eyed the television, then slapped a hand on Bucky's chest. It almost knocked the wind out of him. He really wasn't used to having so many people around who were as strong or stronger than him, and he found that he liked that feeling. With everyone else, he had to watch himself—make sure he didn't use too much pressure when shaking hands or tap Sam on the shoulder too hard. He went through most of his life the past two years having to constantly mind his own strength…especially at 'normal' gatherings like Sam's with lots of people and children.
Sometimes, he found it exhausting.
"What is this?" Thor waved a hand at the television.
"A sitcom," Bucky answered, looking over at the man. "I thought you'd left."
Thor nodded. "I will take my leave soon, but I promised to return to bid a final farewell before doing so." He looked quickly around. "Where are Stark and Rogers?"
Natasha curled into the adjacent recliner. "In the lab going over some final details about how to send this guy home."
Thor shifted to look at Bucky. "Natasha has told me the challenges you will face upon your return."
Bucky took another sip of his beer and then shoved more nuts into his mouth. He turned his gaze back to the television and sank a little lower into the cushion. He didn't want to keep talking about that. All he wanted to do was sit on the couch and be absolutely useless for a little while before he had to head back and face the unpleasant music.
Thor nodded despite not having received a reply, then rose suddenly and went to the compact refrigerator in the tiny kitchenette. He retrieved a beer and dropped back into the couch, popping it open and letting the cap clatter to the ground as he turned his gaze to the screen.
"I myself have done a lot of this recently," Thor began, his voice suddenly softer. "I believe I understand something of what ails you. Perhaps I can introduce you to the game of Fortnite."
Bucky glanced briefly at Thor, eyeing him more seriously for the first time. The change in the man's appearance over the last five years was certainly remarkable. Thor had left shortly after the funeral the first time around, so the only information Bucky had about the Asgardian was what he'd gotten from Sam and the Internet. All he really knew was that Thor had lost his home and blamed himself for not stopping Thanos in Wakanda. Judging from Thor's appearance, the last few years had been difficult ones.
Bucky wondered whether Fortnite was something that had helped get Thor through those hard years. "What is that?"
"It is a game of many players," Thor explained, "where great battles can be fought and won."
Bucky took another swig of his beer and turned his attention back to the screen. "Sounds a bit too much like a day at the office for me."
Thor gave into a deep chuckle and nodded. "Indeed, perhaps it is." He took a long drink of his beer and then held it out toward Sally on the television. "This will do just fine. I like her spunk!"
"I think she might be a he," Bucky mused, though he wasn't even sure whether the fictional aliens had male and female genders given the way they talked about the bodies.
"Well, that dress fits him quite nicely," Thor observed.
-0- -0- -0-
Sam looked up as Steve stopped in the doorway to the entertainment room. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky give them an acknowledging nod, then return his attention to the screen. He and Thor had been in the same spot for the past two hours. They hadn't even moved to use the bathroom.
Natasha got to her feet and headed out the door to talk to Steve. Sam followed, moving a few feet into the hallway with them.
"How are things going in the lab?" Sam asked.
Steve gave an encouraging nod. "Tony, Banner, and Shuri have made remarkable progress, and I think we have a decent plan forming."
"That's something," Natasha said.
"How long have they been like this?" Steve asked, jerking his chin toward the two men sitting motionless, side-by-side, on the sofa.
Sam looked back at them. What he saw were two men who had both been through their own personal hells and hit the proverbial wall. The past five years had not been kind to Thor. As Sam studied the Asgardian, he could tell there was a positive change in the man after the battle with Thanos…now that they had won. Thor was climbing out of his personal hell hole, but he was good enough to recognize when another soul needed a rest stop along the way.
"It's nice," Natasha observed, "that Thor gets him right now."
"You read my mind," Sam commented.
"How has he been doing?" Steve asked.
"Well," Sam sighed, "I told him whatever he needs, and he needs this right now. No expectations. No talk. No thinking. Just mindless entertainment, and his mind is a blank slate as far as television is concerned. I think the only thing he's ever watched other than news is a few Star Trek and I Love Lucy episodes. He hasn't even gotten to the Star Wars or Rocky movies yet."
Steve's eyes stayed focused on Bucky in the other room, and Sam had a pretty good idea what was going through the Captain's mind.
"You can't beat yourself up over a decision you never made."
Steve looked at him, a flicker of surprise on his face. "Am I that easy to read?"
"When it comes to your super-sized guilt, you are."
Steve shook his head. "I just keep thinking about what it must have been like for him after the other version of me left. I can understand why I would've done that. I can't lie and say the thought hasn't crossed my mind. It has. When I saw Peggy…" His voice trailed off. "But hearing what happened, not just with Bucky, but with the world, I wish there was a way I could punch the other me square in the jaw."
"You couldn't have known," Sam tried to reassure him.
"I should have thought ahead." Steve returned his gaze back to the room and the two men seated next to one another. "He just barely got his mind back, and then he's thrown into another fight—the biggest fight of them all. After that, he's arrested, put in a jail cell, given a lawyer and probably a bunch of psychological evaluations, and then a conditional pardon." Steve took a deep breath. "I should have been there for him. He was always there for me."
"You can be there for the Buck of our timeline," Natasha said, her voice gentle, then she looked at Sam and added, "and from that letter you read, Sam, I gather you will be there for the other Bucky when he returns to his timeline."
Sam shook his head, thinking back to that letter. There had been so much in it that made his head spin. He hadn't even fully processed it all yet. "Yeah, and as Captain America, apparently. That just doesn't feel right."
Steve smiled at him. "I think it fits you perfectly."
-0- -0- -0-
Steve returned to the lab to see Tony, Banner, and Shuri clustered around the table in the lab. They'd been working out the final details of how to return the stones and get Bucky back to his own timeline. Steve was beginning to feel a little more at ease now that it looked as though they had a solid plan. He hoped it worked, but there were, admittedly, a lot of variables involved. Whenever there were variables, there was opportunity for things to go awry.
Tony dropped the tiny chip into the top of the small holoprojector. The device was about the size of thumb drive and would fit easily in a pocket. He placed it in the open shell of a small, hard case.
"This should do it, Dad." Tony nodded at the projection of his parents next to Pepper and Morgan and waved goodbye to his little girl. "I love you kilotons," he told her.
She giggled and leaned against her mother. "I love you 3,000 and more!"
Pepper smiled. "Goodnight, Tony."
"Goodnight, Pepper, Mom, Dad…Morgan, bed, now." He killed the holographic image and turned toward Steve.
"It's great that she gets to know them," Steve said.
"Yes, it is. I think they love her more than me," Tony replied.
Steve gave a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure that's not true. But, uh, how is everything going? Is that the last bit?" Steve pointed to the hard case. He was anxious to get the stones and Hammer back where they belonged and deal with Bucky's situation. "What about the other device?"
"That's it," Tony replied, "and, yes, we're ready to go. We can return the stones anytime."
Steve nodded. "That'll be our first priority." He hoped the trips into the past went smoothly, and this time, he planned on returning.
"No rush in sending Bucky Darko back anytime sooner than necessary." Tony leaned back against the table and glanced at Shuri, then asked her, "You and T'Challa—you're sure it'll work?"
She nodded. "I am." She placed the Kimoyo bead in the case next to Stark's drive. "They will be able to verify the authenticity."
"I'll be glad when all the stones are back where they came from." Banner sighed and adjusted his glasses. "The sooner the better."
Steve looked at the three people in front of him and, for a moment, realized just how lucky he was to have what had to be the smartest people on the planet putting their heads together to help Bucky and their respective timelines. The whole thing was a bit surreal considering how, just a few years before, Tony had been of a completely different mindset.
Not that he could blame Stark given how it all went down. Fortunately, all that was in the past, and Tony's little girl now had her father and her grandparents. He'd be damned if he'd let the man responsible for that spend the rest of his life in a windowless, super-charged cell.
-0- -0- -0-
Bucky found himself once again standing in front of his friend and saying goodbye. This time, they were inside the Avenger's lab rather than an open field. His younger self was on his right, and Sam was on his left. Steve smiled at him, the stones securely nestled inside a small case almost identical to the one he'd carried in the other timeline.
Bucky tried to ignore the familiar ache in his chest and told himself that, this time, things would be different. Steve had made it clear he intended to come back, and Bucky believed him, but a part of him wondered if that resolve might waffle the moment Steve laid eyes on Peggy Carter.
Even if this Steve did come back, nothing would ever change things in his timeline. His timeline had already been cast. Steve was gone. The most he could hope for was that the Bucky Barnes of this timeline would get his best friend back.
Steve's gaze drifted over the three of them. He turned to the younger Buck and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll see you in about five seconds, buddy. Don't do anything stupid until I get back."
Buck smiled at Steve. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you?"
Bucky observed the exchange, almost overwhelmed by the sense of déjà vu. Those had been the same words he and his Steve had spoken just before leaving the first time around. It made sense this Steve would say the same thing. They were essentially the same person with just a slightly different sequence of events between them.
Steve then turned to Bucky and clasped him similarly on the shoulder. "I'm coming back."
Bucky nodded, but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him answer. Instead, he reached out and pulled Steve against him hard, listening to his breathing and taking a moment to appreciate the fact that, whatever happened over the next few seconds in his time, he'd had this chance to see his friend one more time.
"Hey," Steve pulled back after a few seconds and looked him firmly in the eyes, "I'm coming back. Five seconds. That's all it'll take for you."
Just don't be an old man when we see you again, Bucky pleaded silently.
Steve moved to Sam next and gave him a nod and a grin. "Make sure these guys don't get into trouble over the next five seconds."
Sam chuckled. "No promises." He punched Steve lightly on the shoulder. "Be careful. See you soon."
"Anytime, Cap." Tony prodded from his position at the controls next to Banner.
Shuri hovered at a nearby table, working over two devices that looked like small high-tech ankle monitors. She looked up briefly from her work and caught Bucky's eyes, then gave him a reassuring smile. He took a breath and turned back to Steve just as the man hopped up on the platform.
Thor's Hammer was already on the platform. Steve turned and pushed the suit activation button on his left wrist. The quantum protection suit engaged, covering him. He grabbed the Hammer.
"Going Quantum," Banner began, "in three…two…one."
Then, Steve vanished.
Bucky closed his eyes.
"And returning," Banner continued, "in five…four…three…two…one."
Bucky swallowed. He felt a vibration through the floor and a deep, bone-rattling hum. The pressure in his chest gave way to blessed relief, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Steve in front of him, a smile on his face and a large brown paper bag in each hand.
"What's that?" the younger Buck asked, pointing to the bags.
Bucky looked down at them, and the familiar smell tickled his nose.
No. It couldn't be….
Steve set them on the floor, reached into one of the bags, and pulled out two very large hero sandwiches from Paddleworth's deli.
"I can't believe you did this," Bucky eagerly grabbed one of the sandwiches. "Ah, man. This is fresh, isn't it?"
Steve nodded, his face split by the hugest grin Bucky could remember seeing in a long time.
"Made a few minutes ago." Steve gave the other sandwich to Buck and then pulled out two more. "I got you each two, and the rest are for everyone else."
"You are my favorite person, man," younger Buck took the two sandwiches and found an empty chair near a small table. He immediately unwrapped one and took a large, indulgent bite. "Steve," he mumbled around his mouthful, "I love you."
Steve laughed and grabbed one of the sandwiches, opening it himself. The others in the room soon clustered around the bags, grabbing sandwiches like children at a candy bowl.
Bucky held his up and sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar aroma that brought him instantly back home to the streets of Brooklyn. He closed his eyes, imagining himself there, standing in front of the deli. If he walked a few blocks east, he'd be at his folks' place, hurrying up the steps, through the front door….
"You okay, buddy?" Steve's voice intruded on Bucky's inner sanctum, and for a moment, he held onto the illusion, imagining it was the Steve from 1943.
"Yeah." Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve in all his Captain America glory standing in front of him, and the illusion vanished. "Just thinking of home."
He felt the subtle sting touch his sinuses and snake behind his eyes. He blinked, taking a steadying breath. God, how he missed his folks…his sisters. All of it.
"Come on." Steve slid an arm over Bucky's shoulder and guided him over toward his younger counterpart.
They retrieved a couple of empty chairs from a nearby workstation and joined Buck. Bucky set his sandwiches down on the table and unwrapped one. He took a moment to relish the impressive sandwich…the meat, cheese, glint of peppers, and oozing sauce that was the sole and proprietary creation of the lovely couple that owned the deli and that you just couldn't find anywhere else…
He cheeks tingled in anticipation as he lifted the hefty mass and took a large bite. It tasted just like he remembered. This moment—with Steve and his younger self inches away and the decadent taste of fresh bread, capicola, salami, pepperoni, and cheese in his mouth—was probably the closest he'd get to anything like heaven.
Sam pulled up another chair, and Bucky scooted his over a few inches to make room around the small table.
"This smells amazing," Sam said, unwrapping the parchment around the sub-shaped thing on his lap. "Thanks, Steve. I can't believe I'm about to dig into a sandwich from the 1940s." He lifted one half of the massive hero. "This job definitely has its perks."