Chapter 12: Jumping the Timeline

Steve watched as Shuri worked on the detached vibranium arm. Bucky sat bare-chested on a chair in the building's lab with one of Steve's blue T-shirts draped over the back. It was just the three of them. Steve tried not to stare at the connecting piece that made up Bucky's shoulder, but he couldn't help thinking back to what Stark had said before about Bucky tearing off an early model of arm…or the gruesome image it had evoked. He was glad he hadn't seen the video. The mental image he manufactured was terrible enough on its own without having the actual, living scene burned into his brain.

And how many more horrors like that had Bucky endured in his 70 years under Hydra's brutal control?

"The geo-location feature is disabled…as is the kill switch," Shuri said with a teasing smile as she lifted the arm and presented it to Bucky.

He managed a brief, almost apologetic grin in response to that. "You're too kind. Thank you."

She tilted her head, and her expression became serious again. "My diagnostic showed minimal damage from the electrical surge you mentioned earlier; however, I have enhanced the shielding and biomechanical interface protection. Should a similar situation occur, you should be more protected from the adverse effects. However, given the properties of vibranium, I cannot eliminate the risk altogether.

Bucky nodded as he took the arm and slipped it onto the connecting shoulder piece. His face grimaced for a moment, almost as if the attachment process produced discomfort, then he gave the arm an experimental rotation. "Thank you."

Shuri bowed her head quickly. "You are welcome." She turned and headed off toward another workstation against the far wall.

Steve walked up to his friend. "So what happened?"

Bucky grabbed the shirt from the chair back and slipped it over his head. "Just another day at the office." He smiled briefly as his head popped through the neck and he slid his arms through the holes. "It doesn't matter, anymore. That situation's resolved back in my timeline."

"The supersoldiers, I take it?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. "Yes, it was one of the new supersoldiers."

"You took them on yourself, it sounds like? You and Sam?"

Bucky shrugged. "Mostly."

Steve thought about what that other timeline must be like with the Avengers decimated. "What happened to the Avengers? Do they even exist anymore in your timeline?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really. Stark's gone. You're gone." He swallowed hard at that, and Steve once again wished he could punch his alternate self. "Wanda," Bucky continued, "is MIA. Vision's gone. Clint is with his family. Banner's…somewhere…grieving, I assume. I don't really know where he went. Thor, last I heard, was somewhere out in space," Bucky waved a hand upward. "And, well, Natasha is still dead."

Steve felt a twinge in the center of his chest as he imagined that bleak world. Just a few hours ago he'd said goodbye to Thor. He'd tried to convince the Asgardian to stay on Earth, but Thor was adamant about leaving. Too bad. It sounds like Earth could use all the help it could get during its post-Blip recovery.

"So, it's basically you and Sam?" Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head. "Actually, it was mostly just Sam in the beginning. I pushed myself into that mission when he mentioned the group he was after had members that were obviously too strong. It's not like we were very buddy-buddy at the time, but he was pretty much the closest thing to a friend that I had…have…in my timeline."

Steve was beginning to understand Bucky's decisions better. He remembered the feeling of walking into the bunker in Siberia and expecting to face five supersoldiers with Bucky at his side. Two against five. How many had Bucky and Sam been up against?

"If you hadn't stopped them, what would have happened?" Steve asked.

Bucky took a breath and shook his head. "I don't know. Without the Avengers, it'd be left to the governments. A lot of people would've died. Given the support the Flag Smashers had, the chaos after the Blip, and their enhanced abilities…who knows. You like to think the worst won't happen, but you and I have seen enough to know that sometimes it does, and by then, it's too late."

Steve studied the lines on his friend's tired face and recognized the burden he carried by the heaviness in those murky blue eyes.

"It's a good thing you stopped them, then," Steve said.

Bucky rose from the chair and tilted his head. "I know what you're saying…what you're trying to do. Thank you. I told Ayo that Zemo was a means to an end, but the end doesn't always justify the means. I traded lives." Bucky lowered his voice and glanced away. "You never did."

"Maybe I should have." Steve drew in a long, deep breath and thought back to his decision with Vision. "I didn't make the right call back in Wakanda. I was trying to save Vision, but in the end, it was hopeless. If we'd destroyed the mind stone a whole lot earlier….who knows? Things might have turned out a lot differently."

Steve felt the warm clasp of Bucky's hand on his left shoulder. "Hey man," Bucky said, "maybe, maybe not. Frankly, Thanos had the rest of the stones, and my guess is he would've destroyed our planet in retribution. Or, he' would've used the time stone like he did and just wound Vision back further. You don't know that it would've turned out any differently. In fact, it might have turned out worse. Maybe we never would have been able to reverse the damage."

"Maybe." Steve met Bucky's firm gaze. "Maybe the same goes for your timeline. Who knows what would have happened if the Flag Smashers hadn't been stopped. How many more people would've died?"

Bucky offered a weak smile. "Maybe. Thank you." The smile touched his eyes. "And thank you for coming back. Having you around will do a lot of good for the other me. He won't feel so alone."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

"Not even with Peggy?" Bucky asked.

Steve bowed his head, thinking of her face, her intelligent, mischievous eyes. "I promised her a dance. I gave it to her. It was hard to leave her behind, I won't lie, but I know she lived a good life after me. She married. She had children." He felt the swell of renewed grief in his chest as he imagined what could've been. "Just not with me."

Bucky gave Steve's shoulder another squeeze. "You saw her?"

Steve nodded. "I had to make good on my promise. We danced. I explained things the best I could without revealing too much. I told her to move on and enjoy the rest of her life, and that the future needed me…and her. She accepted the explanation the best anyone could. I hope it eased her grief a little."

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked softly.

"Yeah." Steve had no regrets about his decision, but that didn't stop him from missing her. He'd always miss her. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Bucky's arm slid across Steve's shoulder as he muttered with a mock southern drawl, "Come on, pal. How about we take a load off in front of one of these newfangled moving picture sets before we ride off into the time traveling sunset?"

Steve smiled and leaned against his friend as he walked with him to the door. "That sounds pretty perfect right about now."

Just before they reached the doorway, T'Challa appeared. He was dressed in a long, dark brown jacket and stood stiffly before them.

Steve heard Bucky suck in a breath as he stopped before the royal leader. Steve figured Shuri had told the Black Panther about how Bucky had freed Zemo, and it was obvious that Bucky expected that T'Challa wouldn't be pleased.

Bucky slid his arm off Steve's shoulder and met T'Challa's gaze. T'Challa held that gaze, then his dark eyes slid to Steve. A subtle smile played at his lips, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever T'Challa was there for, it wasn't to berate Bucky.

T'Challa reached behind the wall to the right of the doorway. He pulled his arm back to bring forward a shining new shield. It was similar to the one Thanos had destroyed, except that the center circle around the white-silver star was black and the rings going from inside to outside were red, white-silver, and blue, respectively.

"Captain Rogers," T'Challa held out the shield, "I believe you could use a new vibranium shield."

Steve reached out tentatively. He could barely believe his eyes, and T'Challa's generosity touched him deeply. Steve looked over at Bucky to see surprise in his eyes and a silly grin on his face. Bucky nodded at him and gave a quick raise of his eyebrows, looking almost exactly as he had that day when he'd yelled, "Let's hear it for Captain America!"

"Thank you." Steve looked back to T'Challa and offered a grateful bow of his head as he took the gift. The shield felt even lighter in his hands than the other one. He hefted it a few times and turned it around. The straps on the inside appeared to be vibranium mesh. Steve looked back up at T'Challa and smiled. "It feels…perfect."

"Hey there." Tony appeared behind T'Challa.

The Black Panther moved aside, and it was then that Steve noticed Morgan standing next to Tony, her tiny hand clutched in his right one. Pepper walked up behind them both, her gaze immediately going to Bucky, and her face broke into a huge smile.

"So," Tony said, moving into the room. "Morgan here won't shut up about something." He rolled his eyes, and Morgan giggled.

Steve and Bucky stepped back to give the trio more room.

Pepper put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "She has been very insistent."

"Go ahead," Tony told his daughter. "You nagged me enough. Don't chicken out now."

Morgan smiled and ducked her head shyly as she walked up to Bucky. Her small head tilted up at him, and her inquisitive eyes studied his vibranium arm, then went to his face. "Thank you for my Dad, and for my Grandma and Grandpa." Then she turned slightly and wrapped one arm around her dad's leg as she continued to stare up at Bucky.

Steve studied Bucky, noting the stunned look in his eyes and the uncomfortable—almost bewildered—look on his face. Bucky blinked as though he suddenly realized he needed to reply and managed a shaky smile. It was obvious Bucky wasn't used to having people thank him for saving their lives, and Steve hoped there'd be many more of these moments in his friend's future.

Bucky seemed to gather his senses about him and gave Tony and Pepper a quick glance, then knelt in front of Morgan and looked her in the eyes as he replied softly, "You're welcome."

The little girl held her right hand out to him. Bucky smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling, and extended his right hand. He barely closed his fingers around her palm as he gave it a gentle shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Morgan," Bucky said. "My name's Bucky, by the way."

She smiled shyly. "I know. Dad told me."

"Oh." Bucky looked up at Tony, then back down at Morgan. "What else did your dad tell you?"

"That you're really old."

Bucky laughed. "Yes, I am."

"Are you really over a hundred? Sometimes Dad jokes."

Bucky nodded. "I'm a hundred and six, actually. How old are you?"

"Four."

"Ah, single digits," Bucky said. "One-hand stuff. I don't have enough fingers and toes for my age."

She giggled, then pointed to his metal arm. "Does that have lasers?"

Bucky laughed. "No, but I'm going to ask the person who made it why it doesn't. That's a great idea." He glanced quickly back at Shuri with a mischievous grin, and she swept her gaze incredulously upward and shook her head affectionately.

"Okay, munchkin," Tony said, patting her on the head and ruffling her hair, "enough with the tech suggestions for now." He stooped and picked Morgan up.

Pepper took a few steps toward Bucky, then looked him square in the face, her eyes almost sad. "Thank you for Tony," she whispered, low enough that Morgan couldn't hear.

Steve wondered exactly what Tony had told Morgan. The little girl obviously knew Bucky helped her dad and was responsible for her grandparents being in her life, but from Pepper's reaction, it was obvious Tony had sugar-coated the facts. Of course, he would. Morgan was only four years old, after all, but she was a sharp four-year-old.

Bucky nodded at Pepper. "You're welcome."

She shifted uncertainly on her feet as she studied him. "Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?"

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded.

Pepper leaned forward and pulled Bucky against her, then whispered in his ear. Steve couldn't quite make out the words, but from the sudden red flush around the edges of Bucky's eyes, he knew they had made an impression.

-0- -0- -0-

Tony held the cloned tablet in his hand as he nodded at the two men about to step on the platform. The quantum signature lock was fastened around the flesh of Bucky's right wrist, indicating it was active and engaged with a string of solid green lights. The brown pack was slung across Bucky's chest. Rogers stood next to Bucky in the field in front of the machine, a medium gray case in his right hand and a large, round leather satchel in his left.

The men would need to make two trips, one to get them before the timeline split, and then forward again so the wristlet could direct them to Bucky's Timeline. Steve didn't need a wristlet for the initial trip. He'd follow Bucky like a trailer hitched to a truck, since Bucky and the platform would all be going to the same point on Bucky's timeline. Steve's wristlet was safely shielded in the case for his return trip.

Both men were dressed casually in jeans and long-sleeved T-shirts. Rogers wore a blue one, and Bucky the laundered gray one he'd arrived in. Steve's brown jacket covered his, and Bucky wore a simple black one. Bucky held the original tablet in his hand. He'd be the primary operator, and Tony would keep an eye on the quantum signature locks and the back-data calibrations from his cloned tablet.

As far as time travel machine platforms went, the one before him was far less elegant and sophisticated than the Pym-Particles-based version they had used to retrieve and then return the stones. However, the actual device itself, encased in a transparent, protective box, was so elegant and sophisticated that he wasn't sure whether it had originated on this planet or another one.

"I hope this works like it should," Banner said, standing beside him, towering over him.

Tony hoped so, too. The science was sound. The math checked out.

"It should," Shuri said. She stood a few feet away, a Kimoyo bead in her hand, projecting a complex quantum matrix in the air. "We've triple checked all the calculations."

Tony glanced over the small group around him. Buck, Sam, Wanda, Banner, Shuri and Natasha were all present and they'd all said their goodbyes to future Bucky. Now, the only thing most of them could do was watch, except for Banner and Shuri, who were the mental muscle for this particular mission. Banner was operating the backup control panel while Shuri was synchronizing the wristlet locks and double-checking the calibrations to Bucky's quantum signature. Tony used the tablet to ensure the platform and the device were both synced to that signature, as well.

Tony eyed Bucky and said, "Anytime you're ready."

Bucky nodded an acknowledgment, and his gaze swept over the group, finally resting on his counterpart. He took a few steps closer to the other man.

"I wish I had some grand words of advice," Bucky told his younger self, "but really, I haven't done such a bang-up job of figuring things out. The only real advice I can give you is…" he paused, a subtle smile playing on his lips, "…cut your damn hair and shave that beard. It's not a good look, and your crap friends should've said something."

Sam barked out a laugh and clapped a hand on Buck's shoulder.

Buck smiled and shook his head in apparent disbelief. "I'll take it under advisement."

"I said something," Shuri spoke up, "a couple of times in Wakanda, if you recall."

Bucky grinned at her. "That you did." He gave the group a three-finger wave and then turned back to Steve. Together, they hopped up on the platform. Bucky looked down at the tablet, his fingers dancing over the screen.

Tony glanced down at the cloned tablet in his hand, watching the data enter on his screen. Barnes should arrive the night before he originally had in this timeline, well before the split and a few days before Thanos arrived…only he'd be in New York, in this empty field in the middle of the night. As Bucky prepared to hit the final activation button, Tony studied the two men about to head into an alternate, future timeline and wondered what that other timeline was like.

How were Pepper and Morgan doing? How had Morgan handled his death? How was Pepper dealing as single mother? Was she running Stark Enterprises, or had the reins been turned over to someone else?

He tried to imagine his amazing little girl at his funeral, and the thought almost broke something inside of him. He wished he could be there for that other version of Morgan…. But he had to be content with knowing that he'd be there for his Morgan, if he managed to keep his head above water and not do anything too stupid over the next few decades.

He saw Bucky eyeing him closely, and he nodded a final thank you at the man. Bucky glanced back at Steve and set a firm hand on his elbow.

"Thank you for coming with me, buddy," Bucky said.

"Anytime, Pal," Steve said with a smile, shifting slightly closer to Bucky and setting the case and round satchel down next to his feet.

It looked as though the Cap were adjusting his stance to better center himself in preparation for a bumpy ride. Bucky had explained that this method of time travel was a little more disorienting than the other method.

Tony watched as Steve smiled and thought he sensed something odd from Barnes. He knew Bucky wasn't happy about Steve risking his life even a little bit to travel back with him, but as far as plans went, Tony felt this one was as solid as it could be considering they were dealing with some other timeline and alternate versions of people they knew. If those people were essentially the same as their counterparts in this timeline, assuming nothing drastic had happened in the year to change them in any fundamental way, then hopefully Bucky should get the help he'd need.

Hopefully. There were a lot of ifs with the plan, though, and Tony didn't much like ifs. He'd been burned by them too many times in the past, and yet still, he found it necessary to deal with them. There really was no other viable alternative short of trying to kidnap one futuristic former Winter Soldier and forcing him to abandon his Sam in his timeline.

Bucky's hand hovered over the activation button, then, suddenly, he twisted and swept a leg out as he tried to shove Steve off the platform with his free arm. Steve obviously had seen the move coming, because he was prepared, shifting his weight at the last minute and grabbing Bucky's arm. In a single movement, he was behind Bucky, his arm around Bucky's neck. Bucky dropped the tablet to the platform and used his other hand to reach back, preparing to grab Steve and send him sailing over him.

"Now, Tony!" Steve yelled,

Tony tapped the activation button quickly before the two men managed to damage the tablet or wristlet in their struggle. The Platform, and the two men, vanished.

"Son of a bitch!" Tony rushed up to Shuri, who looked at the empty field with a shocked expression. "That dumb, stupid, idiotic…" he took a breath. "I swear to God," he looked over at the younger Buck and pointed at him, "you…" Hell, he couldn't even be mad at that version of Buck. Based on the expression on the other man's face, he was as shocked and alarmed as Tony.

"Captain Rogers obviously anticipated this," Shuri remarked.

Tony nodded. "Steve knows his friend well, that's for sure." They'd grown up together, Tony reminded himself, and that reflection brought with it a new wave of guilt for his actions in the Bunker a few years ago.

Things would have gone so much differently if Tony had managed to kill Barnes back then. He knew, ultimately, that decision would've haunted him forever and no doubt devastated Steve. There would have been no repairing their relationship after that.

And Tony knew he would never have forgiven himself after the agony of watching his parents murder had dulled. He sent a silent note of thanks to Rogers for stopping him back then. In doing so, Steve had not only saved Bucky's life, he'd save Tony a level of guilt he wasn't sure he could've recovered from.

"Do your thing again, Cap," Tony whispered at the empty space where Steve and Bucky had stood moments before. "Godspeed."

-0- -0- -0-

Steve's ears were ringing as the world solidified around him. He found himself kneeling on the platform. Bucky was on his hands and knees beside him, shaking the obvious disorientation from his head. The tablet, satchel, and case were next to Steve's right leg, and he grabbed the case. He couldn't risk losing what it held inside.

Bucky's eyes met his. They flashed first with anger, then softened.

"You're one stubborn punk and you really piss me off sometimes," Bucky said, grabbing the tablet and pushing himself to his feet.

"I know you too well, pal," Steve grinned and slapped Bucky on the shoulder, then looked around.

It was night. The field was empty. No one was around, which was just what they'd hoped. Now, all they had to do was jump forward again, and hopefully get diverted into Bucky's timeline.

"Ready?" Bucky asked him.

Steve nodded. "No time like the present."

Bucky grimaced at that bad joke and shook his head. He glanced back down at the tablet, tapped on the screen a few times, and then the world dissolved in a flurry of electricity once more.

Steve found the second trip just slightly disorienting than the first since he knew what to expect, but he still ended up on his knees. He looked up to see Bucky already getting to his feet. Bucky slipped the tablet into the pack, then reached in and pulled out the cell phone he'd arrived with, holding it up as he checked the screen. It was night again, and they were in that same empty field.

"The burner phone's got service," Bucky said. "I can't risk calling Sam, though. I'm a wanted man here, and any contact I have with him will just implicate him further."

Steve nodded. They'd charged the phone fully a few hours before, so at least they'd be able to use it to monitor news and other information. Steve crouched down and opened the case, pulling out two small photostatic veil devices. He eyed the other items in the case briefly—the wristlet for his return trip and the two other holodevices Tony and Shuri had given him.

He didn't bother checking the large compartment underneath the devices. He wouldn't need the uniform just yet. For the time being, he and Bucky needed to keep a low profile.

"When are we?" Steve asked.

Bucky glanced down at the phone. "One day after I left. It's 1 a.m."

Steve placed one photostatic veil device behind the top lobe of his ear and handed the other to Bucky. "Here you go. Stark said the power source for these should last us a while, at least a week of continuous use."

Bucky took the device gratefully and placed it on his right temple, beneath his hairline and just above his ear. "These things sure do come in handy. So, we should probably not bother wasting the charge when no one's around…as long as we stay off cameras."

Bucky looked back down at the phone in his hand, his thumb selecting an Internet icon. Steve shifted closer so he could get a clear view of the screen as Bucky scrolled through news headlines.

He clicked on one that said, 'Authorities widen search for former Winter Soldier Barnes."

Steve clasped what he hoped was a supporting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Bucky."

Bucky nodded briefly at him, but his eyes revealed that he didn't quite believe those words.

On the phone's screen, the news story opened. There was a video with a thumbnail of Bucky's face and story text below. Bucky scrolled through the text, and Steve read the words as they flashed by, noting that the "manhunt" for Barnes had expanded to the entire United States and that special measures were being taken at the airports, bus terminals, and border crossings.

Bucky scrolled back up to the video and clicked on it. After a brief delay, the video began playing.

A newscaster's voice spoke over an image of Bucky's face. It looked like a recent booking photo.

"James Barnes, the former Hydra assassin dubbed the Winter Soldier, has thus far evaded capture. Authorities consider him extremely dangerous and urge anyone who encounters him to avoid contact. If you believe you have information relevant to Barnes' whereabouts, authorities urge you to dial your 911 immediately but do not approach him."

The video shifted to Sam, standing on the porch of a blue, southern-style home. The caption below read, 'Sam Wilson, Captain America.'

Despite the circumstances, Steve smiled at that.

"Barnes is not dangerous," Sam's hollow voice rang from the phone's speakers. "That is all I can say on the matter at this time."

"Captain, how do you respond to reports that Barnes had help in the assault against the Stark security personnel last night? Were you involved? How do you explain your presence with Barnes and escaped convict Zemo in Madripoor?"

Sam shook his head. "No further comment." He turned and walked back into the house.

The video shifted to the face of a newscaster. "Details about the nature of the assault at the vacation cabin are scarce as we have been unable to obtain a statement from executives at Stark Enterprises. However, the leaked video from a bar in Madripoor has made authorities concerned that Barnes may be unstable and unpredictable. We will show a clip from that video shortly but caution that it may be upsetting to sensitive viewers."

The image cut to a dark bar. Bucky was dressed in tactical gear. A man took a swing at Bucky. Bucky grabbed his arm, delivered a few punches, and then kicked him, sending him sailing into another man several feet away. Others came into the fray. Steve saw Zemo and Sam in the background. Zemo had a smug smile as he observed, then at one point, it looked as though he pushed a bystander into the fray. Bucky dispatched that man, too, then sent another man sailing into a metal beam.

Bucky looked away and clicked off the phone as the newscast came to an end. Steve saw the muscles clenching in his friend's jaw, the tight lines around his eyes, and the subtle slouch of his shoulders.

"That doesn't look good," Steve admitted to his friend, "but you were undercover. We can explain that."

Bucky looked at him. "People just see the Winter Soldier. Zemo made sure of that. All anyone has wanted is an excuse to lock me up." He held up the phone. "This gives it to them…I gave it to them, and I dragged Sam down with me."

"We're just going to have to take this one step at a time," Steve said. He reached down and closed the case, then grabbed the handle and, with his other hand, picked up the round leather satchel that carried his shield. "Let's get going."

Bucky nodded, and they hopped off the platform. Bucky pocketed his cell phone, then removed the time device from the platform. He handed it to Steve, who quickly opened the case and set it inside, then closed the cover again. Bucky folded the platform and eyed it.

"We can carry it, but it'll be awkward," he said. "You're gonna need it to get home."

"Let's work on finding a car."

Bucky stared at him for a moment, and Steve knew he was thinking over things, weighing options. "I'm calling Sam."

"I thought you said—"

He trailed off when Bucky pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked on the only contact number that came up. It said, simply, "S." Bucky hit the speakerphone icon. After four rings, Sam answered.

"It that really you?" Sam's voice sounded alert, so Steve figured he hadn't been sleeping.

"I told you last time I wasn't going to let you take me in," Bucky said, his voice hard. "But if you ever want to know what I took from Stark, meet me asap. Are you in NY?"

"D.C," Sam answered, his voice flat and cautious.

"Meet me at the bench. Three hours. Come alone. No cops. No Feds," Bucky ended the connection and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Steve didn't like what he was hearing. "You think his communications are being monitored?"

Bucky gave a quick, affirming nod.

"And you're going to have him turn you in, aren't you?"

Bucky gave another nod, and the look on his face told Steve it wasn't up for discussion.

-0- -0- -0-

Bucky and Steve sat on the wooden bench overlooking the lake. It was almost 4 a.m. with clear skies and an almost full moon that cast an ethereal glow on the water's surface.

"You sat right where you are now," Bucky told him.

Steve tried to imagine the scene—a much older version of himself sitting here with a new shield after spending a lifetime with Peggy. What had that other Steve Rogers' life been like?

One thing confused him about the whole idea. "I don't quite understand how I was here if I created a new timeline," he told Bucky, glancing only briefly at his friend before turning his gaze once again to the pristine beauty of the pre-dawn lake.

Bucky shrugged. "Above my pay grade, man. I have no idea how it works. Maybe you did create a new timeline. Maybe, somehow, the two branches merged. Maybe…Maybe…Maybe." He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe you even figured out a way to hop timelines back to your original one, like I just did."

"I can't imagine I went back in time, stayed there, and left you in the hands of Hydra." Steve really had no idea what the alternate version of himself had done. Had he tried to rescue Bucky? Or had he just led an unassuming domestic life with Peggy?

Bucky looked over at him. "It would be nice to think there's some version of me out there that never became the Winter Soldier."

Steve met Bucky's sad gaze. "I hope there is. I hope that guy had a happy, normal life."

Bucky managed a smile and looked back over the lake. "Maybe with a wife, a couple of kids. Barbecues. A dog. A swimming pool." His smile turned into a grin. "Maybe he even lives near his best friend, and they hang out, spend holidays and birthdays together with their families. His kids come over to play in my pool." He gave Steve another glance.

Steve smiled as he imagined such a life, taking curious note of Bucky's mention of a wife, as though the revelation during Shuri's session had never happened. Would Bucky have been happy with that life? "That would be beautiful…but why do you think you'd have the pool?"

Bucky laughed, and Steve relished the sound of it. It was so rare to hear these days.

"Because you're more of a cheapskate than I am."

"Frugal," Steve corrected, then heard the subtle hum in the distance. "That Sam?"

"Yep."

Moments later, Sam dropped beside them. Steve took a good look at the alternate version of his friend—the new Captain America. He liked the upgraded suit and the shield behind the back. He smiled as Sam removed his goggles.

Sam's dark eyes fluctuated between a range of emotions—confusion, joy, sadness. "Steve?"

"Hey, Sam." Steve stood to face him. "I like the new look."

Sam gestured toward Bucky and shook his head. "Thanks to him and the Wakandans." The new Captain reached out and pulled Steve into a hug. "Where are you from?"

"Another timeline—the one Bucky saved." Steve pulled back and turned to look at his other friend.

Bucky rose from the bench. "Hey, Sam. It's good to see you again."

Sam's eyes glistened as he studied Bucky, then said, "You saw me a little over a day ago. How long has it been for you?"

Bucky shrugged. "A few days—a few very long days."

"How are you alive, man?" Sam walked up to him finally and gave him a firm, solid hug. "How are you here?"

"It's a long story." Bucky cleared his throat as he returned Sam's embrace. "But the gist of it is Steve had Dr. Strange use the time stone to bring me back after I fixed things with the gauntlet."

As Bucky pulled away, Sam gave him a final clap on the side of his arm.

"So," Bucky took a breath, "you're going to bring me in."

Sam looked stunned for a moment, then cocked his head in dismay. "What?"

"I'm turning myself in…to you."

"That's…"Sam shook his head. "I don't understand. Why did you come back here if that's what you're doing?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Bucky explained. "Because you already risked too much for me. I saw the news. I know they've got enough on you to make your life miserable with or without bringing criminal charges. But I won't risk you going to prison on my behalf."

Sam shook his head. "I can handle this, man. You don't have to worry about me."

"Take me in, Sam, or I'll turn myself in. If I do that, someone's likely to start shooting at me. They're less likely to start shooting if you bring me in."

"Damnit, Bucky." Sam's dark gaze drifted from Bucky to Steve and back again. "You're serious about this?"

Bucky nodded.

Sam sighed. "Well, we better do it soon. I wasn't followed, but I don't want to risk them figuring out anything if they were eavesdropping." He paused, his face somber. "I hope the fact that you're here, Steve," Sam looked directly at him, "means you have a plan?"

Steve reached down and picked up the satchel and the case. "I'm going to knock on some doors."

-0- -0- -0

Steve used his photostatic veil to remain incognito at the corner of the long city block. He watched from a distance as Sam walked Bucky up to the large concrete steps leading to the New York City Police Department building. A cluster of armed officers lined the steps, and the top doors were already open. Sam had called ahead only a few minutes ago, not wanting to give the media a heads up. Even so, somehow, there was already one news chopper hovering overhead.

Sam was in full Captain America gear. Bucky's hands were clasped behind his back. Even though Steve knew this was all planned and what Bucky wanted, his chest physically ached as he watched it go down. Seeing Bucky paraded up steps, past a line of steady rifles ready to take him out if he moved one step out of line, was an image he knew he'd never get out of his head. It brought him right back to Bucharest, watching as armed officers descended on Bucky after the disastrous chase, handcuffing him, searching him, and manhandling him into an armored vehicle.

Sam and Bucky disappeared through the doors, and Steve took a deep, steadying breath. He trusted Sam to watch out for Bucky for the next few hours. In the meantime, Steve had a few people he needed to drop in on.

-0- -0- -0-

Pepper jolted awake at the sound of the doorbell. "Someone is at your front door," came the voice of the AI over the speakers. She glanced at her window. It was still dark outside, but a hint of the approaching sun touched the curtains. The blue digits of the AI screen on her bedside said it was 5:20 a.m.

"FRIDAY, show the front door," Pepper instructed. The screen switched to the porch view. The face she saw there had her scrambling out of bed. She grabbed the robe from the back of her door and slipped it over her T-shirt and underwear.

It couldn't be….

She broke into a jog and slid to a stop in front of her door. She peeked through the pane in the door and saw him standing there, looking just like the day he left. A cross-body bag hung on him, and he carried a medium case in one hand and a round brown satchel in another. It seemed like just the thing that would carry a certain shield.

She opened the door. "Steve Rogers?"

He smiled at her, but it looked sad. "Hello, Pepper. I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour. Can I come in?"

She backed up a step, not completely sure whether she was dreaming. "What are you doing here? How are you here?"

He walked in, and she closed the door behind him, then flicked on the switch. Soft light flooded the room, and she studied him closely. It really was Steve Rogers. What was one supposed to say in such a situation? He couldn't be here. She knew the story. Steve Rogers was gone.

He turned to her. "I need your help." He set the round satchel down, propping it against the wall, then lifted the gray case. "Do you have a table I can set this on?"

She nodded. "Uh, yeah." She still wasn't sure she could believe her eyes. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" It seemed the appropriate question to ask someone who'd just returned from…wherever.

He shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you."

She guided him into the dining room and pulled out a chair for him. He sat down, and then gestured for her to take a seat. Wordlessly, she dropped into the chair across from him.

"This is going to be difficult for you, and I'm sorry about that. It's a lot to explain. I'm not from your timeline."

"Well, that's a start," Pepper said. So, this had to do with another timeline? Okay. She could get behind that idea. Bucky and Sam had stolen the time travel device they'd turned over to Stark Enterprises in the first place…and the Steve sitting before her must be the result of that little act of misappropriation. Although, since it had been in their possession to begin with, she supposed it might not exactly qualify as theft.

"I need your help with Barnes," he told her.

She nodded. Now it was really beginning to make sense. "Go on."

"I understand he borrowed a time travel device."

"You could say that. I'm guessing that's how you're here?"

He nodded. "He went back in time and saved Tony."

The air left her lungs suddenly. Tony…

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you," Steve continued, his voice soft. "In my timeline, Tony's alive. Bucky used the stones. He brought back…a lot of people. He's made my timeline a much better place. This will help explain it all."

Steve opened the case and withdrew a small device that looked about the size of a large thumb drive. He closed the case lid, set the device on top of the lid, and tapped it. A holographic image sprang above the case.

She sucked in a sharp breath as she stared into the faces of herself, Tony, Morgan and two other people she recognized from photos and videos—Howard and Maria Stark. She couldn't take her eyes off the image, but she listened for Morgan upstairs. She didn't want her plodding down to see this. Fortunately, the house was silent, until Tony's holographic image spoke….

"Hello, Pepper," Tony's image began. "I'm sorry to do this to you. I'm really sorry I'm…not there…in your timeline. I wish I could be there for you both. I hope you're both doing okay. I know you are. Hopefully the alpaca isn't still decimating the berries?" He cleared his throat. "Well, this is all going to be one heck of a story, so I'll just dive in. Bucky Barnes from your timeline went back in time to the playdate we had with Thanos." He glanced at Morgan on his lap. "Barnes got the gauntlet before I did. He saved the universe. He brought back my parents. He brought back a lot of people. Hell…" Tony glanced at Morgan again. "I mean, heck, he reversed climate change, cleaned up the planet's air and water, and even gave Rhodey a new pair of legs."

Tony put his arms around Morgan, who leaned into him. "This little girl here gets to know her grandparents."

The holographic projection of Maria Stark waved at her. "Hello, Pepper." She glanced at the holo-version of Pepper next to her. "It's been wonderful getting to know you and my granddaughter."

Pepper felt tears in her eyes, and the holographic image blurred. She wiped quickly at her eyes as her own voice rang from the display.

"Barnes needs your help. I can only imagine what you're going through, because I imagine what I would be feeling right now, if I were where you are, watching this. There's a timeline—our timeline—where all this is happening," holographic Pepper placed her hand on Tony's shoulder, "thanks to James Barnes. I know he's done some things over there that maybe weren't the best, in hindsight, but we all know that's happened before."

"Sokovia," Tony said quickly. "The Mandarin." Tony raised a hand in the air. "My fault. Totally. Here I am with my happy family, getting a chance to watch Morgan grow up, spend time with my Mom and Dad. Dad even kind of likes me a bit," Tony glanced at his father and cocked his head. "Though, he likes Morgan way better."

The holographic projection of Morgan giggled.

"Thank goodness," Howard Stark chimed in, "that she has her mother's disposition."

"But her father's sense of humor," holographic Pepper added.

Pepper found herself laughing as renewed tears spilled down her cheeks. Was all of this real?

"Okay Potts, do us a favor here," Tony said, "Help that guy. Use all the resources you have. Lawyers. PR. Call in markers, favors, throw your weight around. Throw the weight of Stark Enterprises around, even if you have to bulldoze through the board. Barnes gave us a chance at a life. He deserves a chance at one, too. If you have the ability to make anything right over there, use it. What else is all that for, anyway? You told me that once. See, I do listen…I love you. The other me. Me. It doesn't matter. You know. I'm sorry you're having to do this on your own. I know you're up for it, but I wish the other me had been able to be there for both of you." He covered Morgan's ears with his hands, and the little girl smiled and grabbed his hands with her tiny ones. Tony continued. "I expect you'll never remarry. Carry my picture with you everywhere. Kidding." He cocked his head. "But when you find someone, for the love of God, don't let him convince you to get rid of Gerald. I know you love that little alpaca."

The display ended. Pepper sat in silence, staring at the empty space previously occupied by the happy family from that other timeline. She'd managed these past months to fill the hole caused by Tony's death with work, Morgan, and all the other things that went along with a life like hers. But now, suddenly, she felt it all over again. The loss. The grief. Tony….

"I'm really sorry, Pepper." Steve's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She looked at him, pushed her grief aside, and squared her shoulders. "What do you need, Cap?"

-0- -0- -0-

T'Challa gazed at the screen somberly, watching the grim news as the man he'd come to know as White Wolf was paraded up concrete steps, hands clasped behind his back, with Sam Wilson behind him. He could not condone the actions of the man whose image hung on the crystal display, but it nevertheless pained him knowing what lay ahead for him.

A bead on his wrist chirped, and he rolled it into his palm. A holographic image sprang above, and the person that greeted him caused him to find the nearest chair and sink into it.

"It seems like I'm always coming to you for help," the image of Steve Rogers said.

T'Challa could barely believe his eyes. "Captain." He nodded at the man. "Or, perhaps I should ask who I am speaking to, exactly?"

Steve gave an understanding tilt of his head. "I'm not from your timeline. When Bucky escaped, he went back in time to the battle with Thanos. He got the gauntlet before Tony did, and he saved the universe. He made our timeline a lot better than it otherwise would have been. He brought back a lot of people—Stark's parents, victims of the Winter Soldier. He even reversed climate change and cleaned up the planet. Dr. Strange used the time stone to resurrect Bucky. That wasn't part of Bucky's plan."

T'Challa was glad he opted to sit down for this conversation. He tried to imagine that world—a clean planet, a world with Tony Stark still in it. That seemed like a good world.

"I know what Bucky did with Zemo had some pretty dire consequences, especially to a couple of people, in particular. I am not here to make excuses. However, you understand the dangers of the supersoldier serum. You also understand the things that have been done to Bucky over the past 80 years. There's someone who has a message for you." Steve raised his hand. "Give me one minute. She showed me how to do this."

The image flickered and was then replaced with one of himself standing next to Shuri. He wore a long brown dress jacket. Shuri wore a black, sleeveless shirt. They both stared at him.

"I hold no love for what the White Wolf did in your timeline," T'Challa's other self began. "Nevertheless, I urge you to help him. He made difficult decisions under difficult circumstances, much like Rogers had to do when Thanos sought the mind stone. Decisions do not have the benefit of hindsight, and many more lives would have been lost had the serum been used on additional subjects. We only just finished fighting one battle. While war seems a constant across the universe, our world needs to breathe. It cannot be allowed to decay into another war so soon. Wilson and Barnes helped stop such a war." His holographic self paused and seemed to consider his next words carefully. "You and I are not strangers to making grave mistakes. It was our own actions that helped lead to the rift between the Avengers. We did not listen to Rogers or Barnes back then, when our father was killed. We sought only vengeance. Do not make the same mistake again. Listen to what Rogers has to say, but first, my sister will explain further why we would ask that you use the resources at your disposal to assist the White Wolf."

Shuri nodded. "Brother, I understand that in your timeline, shortly after the battle ended, James Barnes was arrested. He had no opportunity to return to Wakanda to continue his recovery. You know the great burden he carries. His wounds are deep. While we were able to remove the effect of the code words, he still suffers from the effects of decades of conditioning that Hydra inflicted upon him to twist his mind to their purpose. He had a mission to complete. He completed it at all costs. That is how he was conditioned. He is not to blame for what was done to him. We cannot denounce him for not being allowed to continue his therapy, or for suffering the lingering effects of decades of abuse. He wanted only serenity, but we asked him to fight, and he did. We must help him learn how to live outside of a mission and to integrate into society. He cannot live the rest of his life on a field, in a hut, and he does not deserve to spend the remainder of his days in a prison cell. The White Wolf is one of us. We must help him, big brother. It is the right thing to do." She nodded firmly. "If you have any doubts about the authenticity of this recording, Captain Rogers will deliver the Kimoyo bead I gave him to your Shuri and she can verify that the bead is indeed, from Wakanda, and that this recording is authentic."

The holographic display shifted again, and Steve Rogers appeared once more. "I know I've asked this before. I'm asking again. Can you help him?"

T'Challa considered the situation. It was not an easy decision, and there were grave consequences for whichever path he chose.

"I can help him, I believe," T'Challa replied. "However, this is not like Vienna. In this case, I believe, our friend has committed the crimes for which he is accused."

Steve bowed his head slightly. "I understand what you're saying. He freed Zemo in order to stop someone from creating an army of supersoldiers. You know what such an army is capable of. Zemo is locked up in the Raft in your timeline, and he's not getting back out. I cannot second-guess Bucky's decision. I've made some bad calls myself…bad calls that cost lives. I've broken the law, too." Steve met T'Challa's gaze. "You know the man that he is. If you believe justice is served by him spending the rest of his days in the Raft, then I will respect your decision. I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen to him, either way. He saved a lot of people in my timeline, and he didn't have to come back to this one to face the consequences of his actions. He chose to do that. I tried to convince him otherwise. He believes himself unworthy of a life. He believes he deserves to be locked up. He refused to leave Sam to take any of the fall for what he did. That's the kind of man he is, and that is not someone I'm going to leave in a cage. One way or the other, I'm going to help him."

T'Challa studied the image of Steve Rogers. He thought back to the man he knew as James Barnes…the White Wolf. As a friend, he wanted to help the White Wolf. As a King, however, he had to think more deliberately.

"I will consider the matter," T'Challa told Rogers. "Where is our friend now?"

"In a federal detention center. Pepper has paid a retainer for legal representation. He's got the best lawyers, so that should keep him relatively safe for the time being."

T'Challa nodded. "You are concerned for his safety?"

"I know there are still people who would like nothing more than to get their hands on him."

T'Challa took in a deep breath, settling on a decision. "I will do what I can for you and the White Wolf."

Steve released an audible breath. "Thank you, T'Challa."

T'Challa offered a gentle smile. "I know better than to argue with any version of my little sister."

-0- -0- -0-

Steve broke into Bucky's Brooklyn apartment using one of the lasers that Sam provided him. He cut through the deadbolt, then forced the knob. It was less conspicuous than breaking the door in. The photostatic veil had effectively kept him incognito, and he'd been able to navigate the city without drawing too much attention…although the round satchel and case he carried did turn a few heads. It was late, just past midnight the morning after Bucky had turned himself in, and no one was around to see his forced entry. He'd had a long day, and though his mind was racing with the recent events, he knew he'd need to try for sleep.

He carried Bucky's bag with the tablet, the gray case, and the round satchel with his shield and kicked the door closed behind him. It didn't latch, but it had a flip lock inside that he used to keep the door closed. He'd deal with the latch and deadbolt replacement later. Sam had been good enough to take possession of the platform, promising to keep it safe until Steve needed it. He figured 'safe' meant somewhere with Pepper.

Steve looked around the small apartment. Bucky said he was paid through the end of the month, and that he'd left his key on the counter during a previous situation. He hadn't known if or when he'd be back at that time. Bucky didn't elaborate on what that other situation entailed.

Steve spotted the key on the kitchen counter. His gaze drifted over the rest of the apartment. A large, sofa-style chair rested against the far wall, and a television set faced it, slightly askew. A makeshift bed with a pillow and blankets lay crumpled on the floor next to the couch. The place was barren, minimally functional.

Now that Bucky was in custody, no one should be watching the Brooklyn apartment. Steve walked past the chair and television toward the small kitchen in the back of the apartment. He set the bags and case next to the kitchen counter and eyed his options as he reached a hand behind his ear and pulled off the photostatic veil. The sofa chair was far too short for him to sleep comfortably, so it looked like he'd be crashing on the floor. He wondered how long Bucky had lived in this apartment and why he didn't at least have a mattress like the one he'd used in Bucharest.

He thought back to his conversation with Sam when he'd first met the Falcon…that lying on a bed felt like sleeping on a marshmallow. Looking around the sparsely furnished apartment, it was obvious that Bucky didn't put too much emphasis on physical comfort. Steve could only imagine the conditions Bucky had lived in under Hydra…or when he'd been on the run for two years after the helicarriers had been destroyed. Perhaps this was his idea of comfort?

This apartment didn't have the feeling of a home, and the thought of Bucky—who had grown up in a full apartment surrounded by his parents and siblings—living alone in this tiny, bare-bones apartment made Steve's chest ache with regret. God, how he wished his alternate self had stayed. With a sigh, he grabbed the remote from the T.V. stand and turned on the television as he dropped onto the chair. He flipped until he found news. He sat through talk of the Global Repatriation Council, the fallout from the Flag Smashers, and then, finally, Bucky…

A female newscaster sat behind the desk, an image of Bucky's booking photo on a square graphic to the right of her head. "Former Winter Soldier James Barnes has been transferred to a federal detention center in an undisclosed location," she said.

Steve knew Bucky was still in New York thanks to the lawyers and Sam. Pepper had given him an encrypted cell phone, so he was able to communicate with her and Sam to give and receive updates. Tony—from his timeline—had given him $25,000 in cash, and that, too, was in the gray case, stashed in the lower compartment beneath his uniform.

Steve listened to the broadcast. It was all information he already knew…until the anchorwoman mentioned Bucky's jail break.

"We have obtained a copy of the security footage showing the breakout. In the footage, Barnes can be seen clearly emotionally distressed moments prior to his escape. Experts are calling into questions Barnes' capacity to stand trial, and his attorneys have insisted on a full psychological evaluation prior to any transfer or extradition proceedings."

The image shifted to footage showing a jail cell. Bucky was sitting on a bench, his shoulders slumped. Then, suddenly, he toppled sideways, slamming into the wall. His chest heaved, his shoulders shook, and he buried his face in the elbow of his right arm. The video had no audio, but the visual was enough. Steve clenched his fists and took a slow, deep breath as he watched his friend break down for all the world to see. He knew how closely Bucky guarded his emotions these days, even from his closest friends. It felt like another violation to have his suffering paraded across televisions all over the world.

Steve then watched as Bucky got hold of his emotions—lifting his head and rising to his feet. His wet eyes scanned the area briefly before settling on the camera. Steve saw the moment decision settled on his friend's face.

Bucky raised a hand waved at the lens, then turned around, pulled back his vibranium arm, and punched a hole in the wall. He followed through, bulldozing his way through the brick and out to the parking lot.

"The cost to repair the damage to the detentions is estimated at over thirty thousand dollars," the newscaster said as the camera cut back to her. "However, given the rise of enhanced individuals, the governor is considering upgrades to select prisons across the state. At this time, the cost to taxpayers of such an endeavor is unknown, but financial experts estimate it would likely be at least several hundred million dollars."

Steve clicked the power button on the remote and turned off the television. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then dialed Sam.

"Hey, man, how are you doing?" Sam asked as soon as the line connected.

"I'm…tired."

"You landed?"

"Yep." Steve leaned back in the chair. "How is he?"

"He's…Bucky. Stoic. Quiet. That's what I hear, anyway. I still haven't been able to actually see him…after turning him in and being the hero," Sam almost spat the last word, "but the lawyers have, and they've kept me in the loop. He's in a secure building in New York City. Heavily guarded."

"Do you know the location?"

"Yep. I'll text you the address. How did things go with T'Challa?"

"He's onboard."

Steve heard an audible breath from Sam.

"That's great," Sam said. "Pepper and T'Challa…that will help."

"What are the lawyers saying?"

"Well, there's some good news!" Sam's voice raised to a hopeful pitch. "The Germans don't actually have any hard evidence against Bucky on the prison break, but they also aren't backing down on extradition. They've got a lot of circumstantial evidence they're hanging their hats on. It doesn't look great that he and I showed up with Zemo in Madripoor, and that was all caught on video. I'm working on a statement with the lawyers. Basically, top secret government undercover stuff to stop the Flag Smashers, which we did. Since I'm now Captain America and brought in the infamous former Winter Soldier, I'm pretty much off the legal radar and everyone's new hero. They have Bucky solid on the jail break in Louisiana, unfortunately. It sucks. I'm out here. He's in there. He saved an entire universe, and the world hates him right now… Well, except for a few people."

Steve knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He hoped they'd be motivated to help. "Have you been able to reach them?"

"Yes. Carrying the shield has its perks, that's for sure."

"And?"

"At least three of them are willing to make public statements," Sam said.

Steve felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. They were off to a good start—things seemed to be going their way. The variables were lining up in the right direction, at least.

"They wouldn't be here today without Bucky," Sam added, "and that would not have been an easy death. I'd say that's some solid motivation. I think we can count on them, politics be damned. If anyone knows the stakes of what we were up against, it's them. I'm pretty sure I can get Perez onboard, too. That'd be four total."

Steve closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The exhaustion was starting to set in. "Thank you, Sam."

"Thank you, Cap. You didn't have to come here, into this shit-show."

"He's my friend. I told him I'd be with him to the end of the line. The version of me here didn't honor that. I can't stay here forever, but I can see him through this. Whatever it takes. And if it comes down to it…"

"I know," Sam said. "I'll miss him, but he deserves a life. Just like you do. Don't beat yourself up over this. You couldn't have known. Well, the other you, anyway."

Steve managed a tired smile at that. "Goodnight, Sam. I'll touch base tomorrow. I'm keeping the phone on. Call me if there's any change."

"Will do. Goodnight, Cap."

-0- -0- -0-

Eva Klein was a night owl. She always had been, but at her age, sleep came harder and harder. She was the queen of naps, but staying asleep for more than a couple hours at a time was a super power that belonged to others. She envied those special individuals.

As she sat in her recliner and watched the man on the screen curled into himself in the prison cell, she found herself going through a kaleidoscope of emotions. Initially, she felt a certain satisfaction watching his agony. Her grandson could no longer cry or grieve or feel anything. Then, she felt guilty for taking pleasure in his suffering.

She was old, but she knew how to use the Internet. Some technology was a bit perplexing since her five-year Blip hiatus, but she had always been good at adapting, and she prided herself on being self-sufficient, no matter her age. So, she knew how to look up information on her tablet. She even kept in touch with her many children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces on social media.

When she searched for information on the man who had helped free the person who killed her grandson, she read things she wished she could forget. She remembered things she often tried to forget. Screams. Faces.

The Nazis had destroyed so many lives. She'd been only a small girl when they'd destroyed hers, but she had rebuilt another one—a good one—despite them. Decades later, they were still destroying lives.

She knew that man on the screen was over 100 years old—older, even, then she was. He had lived through the Nazis. He had fought them, and then he had been captured by them. Experimented on. Turned into a killer. She learned all that from the Internet. She'd read the words, but reading and knowing were two different things. She'd tried to imagine what those words truly meant to the man on the screen.

What kind of man had he been before the Nazis captured him? What had they done to him? Most importantly, what kind of a man was he now?

-0- -0- -0-

It was his eighth consecutive hour of staring at the wall in his dimly-lit cell. He had no clock to reference, but he'd had decades of experience keeping internal track of time during missions. It had been a necessary skill. Missions involved waiting, watching, hunting, and knowing the precise moment to strike….in whatever conditions he found himself in.

The lawyers had come and gone. The collar around his neck itched and elicited an unwelcome sensory memory that made his fingertips tingle. The gray cotton shirt and pants they'd made him change into were comfortable enough but provided little warmth. The floor was cool against his bare feet.

He was hungry. Breakfast was still several hours away and would probably be eggs and a piece of fruit. Such a meal would be enough for anyone with a normal metabolism, but the two meals they'd hastily provided him over the last couple of days were insufficient for his serum-enhanced physiology. Between his surrender, transfer to a secure location, visits from the lawyers, and the powers that be dealing with the media, feeding him had been an afterthought for everyone until his stomach grumbled audibly. The lawyers were working on that, too, they'd told him.

Hunger didn't bother him too much. He'd never had a problem dealing with the sensation, at least not over the past 80 years. As the Winter Soldier, it had been a perpetual state of being and a secondary concern he barely noticed. After the helicarriers, during his initial weeks on the run, food had been scarce and obtaining it often meant risk. He'd learned to function on the bare minimum.

Bucky had tried for sleep, but it wasn't coming easily. Sleep would help pass the time, at least. He spent an hour doing pushups and sit ups, trying to keep his body active and his mind occupied enough to ignore the unpleasant sensation of the collar around his neck, but ultimately, he realized he was just burning energy and inflaming his hunger.

He was only on Day Two. It wasn't so bad, other than the collar and the boredom. They'd explained that the collar was a necessary safety mechanism. It had a GPS tracker in it and could deliver a supersoldier-sized electric shock. His lawyers had argued that the collar was cruel and unusual punishment. Apparently, they were filing a motion. There'd be a hearing in a few days.

His lawyers. He managed a smile at that. Leave it to Steve. The lawyers had told him that their retainer had been paid and a trust account formed. Bucky had a pretty good idea who to thank. There was only one person around with that kind of money who would have any interest in helping him. He wasn't sure how Steve had convinced her, but he knew his friend was at least partially responsible, somehow, for the assist.

He wondered what Steve was doing at that moment. He assumed Steve had found his way to the apartment, gotten in, and probably realized he had nowhere to sleep except the floor. Bucky should have warned him about that. They'd discussed where he'd stay. Sam was too high profile, and they didn't want to risk the press getting a glimpse of Steve Rogers.

What would Steve would think about his paltry apartment? It wasn't set up for guests. It was a place to store a few things, sleep, eat, shower, and watch the news. That was all. He hadn't had a home in a very long time.

Come to think of it, his prison cell wasn't all that different than his apartment. It was a place to sleep, eat, go to the bathroom, and shower on a schedule. He hadn't had a shower yet. It wasn't much of a priority, and he had no idea when they'd decide he needed one. He figured they probably wanted to handle him as little as possible. He saw the way the guards looked at him. He knew they were aware of his history and capabilities. He somehow suspected they had all drawn the short straws.

They had nothing to fear from him, but they didn't know that, and that made them nervous. He knew nervousness often led to overreaction, so he tried his best to give them no reason to react, for their own welfare as well as his own.

When they brought his food, he moved to the far wall as instructed, away from the tiny slide-in shelf that he couldn't possibly escape from, anyway. When the lawyers came again—an older woman with wild white hair and a younger man with European elegance—he spoke to them through the glass barrier of his cell. It was a cell much like Zemo's in Berlin, except that the transparent barrier was reinforced with a micro mesh and three times as thick. A comm system in the wall allowed him to hear and speak to people on the other side. Cameras were focused on him at all times, even when his attorneys were present. Except that, apparently, the audio on the cameras was turned off for the lawyers. That's what they'd told him—attorney-client privilege.

The lawyers asked him a lot of questions and encouraged him to tell them the truth so they could provide a proper defense. He did. He told them everything. There was no use lying or trying to cover up facts at this point. He told them that Sam had nothing to do with breaking out Zemo. Sam didn't even know about it until after the fact, and he'd objected the entire time. The only reason Sam had gone along with it was because it had already been done and Zemo had information that they needed to find who was making the serum and where the new crop of supersoldiers were located.

He told them about the note he'd slipped the prisoner that had started the fight and allowed Zemo the distraction he needed to make his escape.

They'd asked him question after question. Had he talked with Zemo before that visit? Had he ever had prior communication with Zemo after Siberia and before the prison break? Did he know Zemo would kill someone? How did Zemo know where to meet him? What would he have done had Zemo not made the rendezvous? Why didn't he let Walker or the Dora Milaje take Zemo when they wanted to? Why didn't he secure Zemo when Walker and the Dora Milaj were fighting? How did he know where to find Zemo to turn him over to the Wakandans?

They interrogated him for three hours. It reminded him of his debriefing back in the War, after escaping the Germans. The lawyers finished for the day and said they'd be back tomorrow. They told him to comply with all orders given and that, if he had any issues, he should ask to speak with his counsel as soon as possible.

He had no problems complying. That was something he'd been programmed to do, and as Shuri pointed out, while the programming may have been removed, the underlying conditioning was still very much a part of him. It felt like slipping into an old coat. Heavy. Frayed. Worn. But familiar.

-0- -0- -0-

Steve carried the case as he stepped off the private jet Pepper had generously provided. He'd had about nine hours to kill in flight, and he'd used every bit of that time working. He'd checked in with Sam, and Bucky was still in the same holding facility and his lawyers were successfully giving everyone involved in Bucky's prosecution and detention a massive legal headache. From what he'd heard, they'd filed three separate motions for injunctive relief and a civil lawsuit related to Bucky's prison conditions…and it only been a little over 72 hours since his surrender.

Pepper had sent him the files he requested. That had been a delicate discussion, and one he hadn't relished. Fortunately, she knew what files he meant and even where they were located. She had not, she explained, watched any of them except for a few seconds to confirm she would be sending him the right ones. Tony, she'd told him, had warned her about not viewing any of them. He'd said she'd never get the images out of her head.

-0- -0- -0-

The Chancellor had just ended her call with the Governor of New York when her aide entered. She tapped her pen on her notepad and pondered her options. Things were getting complicated, and she did not like complicated.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," Karl began, looking nervous.

"Yes?" she answered in English. She'd been on the phone with so many American politicians and journalists lately that she had started speaking German to the Americans and English to her own staff.

"You have a very insistent visitor."

"I have nothing on my calendar."

"I think you might want to meet this one."

She eyed him skeptically. There were very few unscheduled visitors who would merit such an announcement. "Who is it?"

"Captain America."

She leaned back in her chair, peering at the young man across her mahogany desk. "Captain Wilson flew all this way unannounced to talk to me about his friend?"

Karl shook his head. "No. Captain Steve Rogers."

She dropped her pen. "Where is he?"