Steve hovered around Bucky but tried not to look like he was hovering. Despite all the aches and pains from battling the brainwashed version of Bucky and the stitches still in his face, he felt energized. It was almost unbearable being this close to Bucky, seeing him in the flesh and looking so much like he did back in 1945. There were a few more lines on his face and a heaviness in his eyes that was even deeper than it had been during the war, but it was indisputably Bucky.
The way he crinkled his nose was achingly familiar. As he spoke with Sam, sometimes his lips would turn upward with a hint of a mischievous smile, not quite taking shape, more like a ghost of the cocky, lopsided grin Bucky used to flash with little provocation.
Steve couldn't believe Bucky survived that fall, but he had, and he broke through Hydra's conditioning. There he was, a few feet away. He remembered Steve — their history together, what they meant to one another, having risked their lives for one another over and over again— but this Bucky wanted nothing to do with him.
The rejection hurt more than any of the blows he'd taken from the metal fist. He wanted to touch Bucky, to put an arm around him like he used to, just to confirm with his own senses that he was solid and real. He ached to be close to him, ask him what happened after he fell from the train, find out how he got his memories back…and ask why Bucky hated him.
Did Bucky blame him for falling off the train? As Steve watched Bucky talking quietly with Sam a few feet away, he felt his chest tighten in a way that made it difficult to breathe. There was a familiarity between Sam and Bucky that he used to have with Bucky.
Of course Bucky blamed him for the train. Steve suggested the mission, roped Bucky into the Howling Commandos when he'd just come off weeks of being tortured and experimented on in Schmidt's factory, and even though Bucky had refused to leave Steve in that burning factory, Steve left Bucky at the bottom of a ravine.
Sam glanced his way, and Steve quickly averted his gaze, looking out the window at the glistening New York night. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the other man stepped away from Bucky and approached.
"Bucky insists we should move as soon as possible," Sam said. "We should relocate to the conference room and plan our attack."
Steve nodded. The other Bucky was out there back under Hydra's control. What the hell were they doing to him? "Agreed." He turned to gather the others when Sam put a hand on his shoulder.
"How are you doing, Steve?"
Steve glanced at Bucky to see him crouched on the floor playing with the freshly bathed kitten that was now fluffy and white. "He hates me."
Sam huffed and shook his head. "That man could never hate you."
God, how Steve wished that was true. "He barely looks at me, barely talks to me. He must blame me for what happened to him, and he has every right to because it was my fault. All I had to do was grab him, and I couldn't even do that. I left him for dead at the bottom of the ravine to continue the mission and get Zola into custody, but for what?" He'd been such a fool, and betrayed the best friend he ever had. "Zola used SHIELD to rebuild Hydra. It was all for nothing."
"He doesn't blame you, and it wasn't for nothing." Sam crossed his arms, his eyes unwavering as they studied Steve. "Zola gave you intel about Schmidt's plan, and you used that to save millions of lives. There is no way you could have known that Bucky survived the fall. I don't know what's going on with him. I sure as hell didn't expect him to give you the cold shoulder. He's been grieving you…"
Steve's chin snapped up. He was dead in Bucky's time? Sam's voice trailed off and he grimaced, obviously realizing he might have said too much.
"I'm dead?"
Sam took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. "It's a long story. It has to do with aliens and time travel. Bucky and I will tell everybody what happens after the mission. We both think it's better that way so that everyone's heads are clear and their focus is on the rescue."
Steve turned to face him directly. The future that Sam and Bucky hinted at seemed too dire to leave to chance. "I don't want to be morbid, but what if neither of you survive?"
"Oh, I'm surviving, and Bucky is pretty much like Kenny from South Park. The man has more lives than that cat over there." Sam jerked his head toward Bucky and the kitten.
Steve couldn't help but smile as he watched Bucky crouched next to Clint, who was dragging a phone cord along the floor for the kitten to chase.
"I get your point, though," Sam continued. "Bucky and I talked about that, too. We've got a contingency plan." Sam slapped him on the arm. "Let's get everyone together in the conference room."
-0 0 0-
"Before we begin," Tony said, tossing the vibranium shield at Steve, who caught it effortlessly with wide-eyed surprise and a grateful smile, "this was fished out of the river." He took a seat at one end of the table and looked at Bucky. "Do I have any health issues in the future that I need to get ahead of now?"
While the Avengers clustered around the table smiled, Bucky suppressed a grimace. There was, and it came in the form of an alien armada and ancient stones. He was determined to do whatever he could to ensure that Natasha, Tony, and everyone else in the room survived Thanos. If they could give the Avengers a few years head start against Thanos, hopefully it wouldn't be much of a fight if and when the aliens arrived.
Bucky stood at the opposite end of the table, with Sam seated on his left and Steve on his right. Since Bucky was the resident Hydra expert, they suggested he take the floor first. "Nothing you need to worry your doctor about, that I'm aware of." Unfortunately, they didn't have time for banter or small talk. Hydra was moving fast. They needed to move faster. Bucky withdrew his phone and sent the loaded images onto the hollow display against the glass wall. The first image was of the bank building. "This is the Hydra base where I was kept.… where I am being kept. Everyone who works in the bank is Hydra, the actual bank is just a front. We have to assume that, by now, they've wiped the memories of my counterpart and loaded him up on drugs."
Bucky kept his gaze on the opposite end of the table, making fleeting eye contact with Romanoff, Stark, and Barton and steadfastly avoiding Steve's battered face. Those eyes were always so goddamned expressive, and the situation was hard enough as it was without that complication. He was here to do a job, and when that job was done, he and Sam would be gone.
Nothing good would come from letting himself get attached to this Steve.
Still, in the periphery of his vision, he caught the way Steve straightened. "Drugs? What drugs?"
Bucky nodded without looking over. The days after he'd walked away from the helicarrier were disorientating and painful. He'd been dealing with flashes of memory, a broken arm, and withdrawal from the cocktail of drugs Hydra had been pushing through his veins before and after every mission.
"I'm not sure. Performance enhancers, maybe. Emotional regulation. It's not like they ever told me." He'd gone on the run, and by the time he ended up in custody and then under Wakanda's protection, all those drugs were out of his system. There were no samples to test. Not even the red book had formulas, just names of cocktails Hydra had made up. Things like белый шум, which translated to white noise, and дьявольский-X, a name that referenced something devilish.
Bruce pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "How do they wipe his memories, exactly?"
Bucky took a breath and swapped out photos. The metal chair in the center of the safety deposit vault hovered on the display, and he avoided looking directly at that, too. He didn't need to. It was forever burned in his memory. "This device sends high-voltage electric current into his brain and induces amnesia."
"Man, how do you have that on your phone?" Sam asked, giving Bucky an unwavering look that made him feel like a subject under study. "Hell, why do you have that on your phone?"
That was a conversation for a different time.
Bucky put his palms on the table, letting the solid surface ground his thoughts. "It's targeted to the areas of the brain that contain personality, emotions, morality…everything that makes a person a person. The most severely impacted region is the hippocampus. He'll retain muscle memory, speech, practical knowledge, etc., but he won't know who he is, and he won't remember his previous encounters with any of you. Don't under-estimate him."
He paused to take a breath. Talking about it as though it was happening to someone else didn't make it any easier. The chair had stolen everything from him, over and over again.
He heard Steve's breathing quicken and didn't need to look at him to know the other man got the message. He won't remember you.
From the way Romanoff stared across the table at Steve, Bucky knew Steve's face held all his emotions. The man had a pretty good poker face, but it wasn't perfect. He knew what it was like for Steve to listen to this because he knew what it would be like for him if their situations were reversed. He didn't want to cause Steve pain, but it was imperative that everyone at the table understood what they were dealing with. Steve made progress with the Winter Soldier on the helicarrier, but that progress would have been wiped away by the chair.
"Hydra uses activation sequences to brainwash people. Their Winter Soldier program yielded techniques that allow them to override a person's will and gain their compliance. In less than a year, they'll have a chemical agent that will enslave any subject exposed to it." He looked directly at Natasha. "Your sister will be a victim of that."
Tony leaned back in his chair. "Sister? Jesus! Does everybody have a secret family I don't know about?"
Natasha stiffened, her palms going flat on the table surface. "How do you know about my sister? Do you know where she is? Can we get to her?"
"She'll break free from the Red Room. If we're able to dismantle Hydra, that'll go a long way in giving the Avengers and SHIELD the edge to deal with the Red Room. Sam and I will give you all the intel that we have, but time is of the essence, and we need to focus on the mission at hand."
Natasha's chin came up. "The Red Room's gone."
Steve clasped his hands and leaned forward. "So is SHIELD."
Bucky shook his head. So much had happened during the months after Project Insight collapsed. He didn't know all of it, but he found out enough to know that Hydra wasn't as dead or scattered as everyone would've liked to believe, and SHIELD would rise from the ashes.
"The Red Room still exists, and don't count SHIELD out completely yet. As we speak, Coulson's working on resurrecting it."
From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Steve straighten in surprise. It felt good to be the person in the know for once. From the moment he walked away from the riverbank, he felt like a thing adrift in the ocean, at the mercy of the tide and waves, with no land in sight.
He listened with half an ear as Sam brought the team up to speed about Coulson's mysterious resurrection.
Six years ago, when T'Challa approached Bucky with the vibranium arm and information about an impending alien attack, he barely any time to wrap his head around it before Steve arrived. There'd been precious little time to acclimate to the new arm. Everything had been rushed, and they'd had no chance to catch up.
Then the aliens arrived, and it was time to fight all over again. It had seemed like a losing battle, and he'd been sure that would be the end of the line for him. . .until Thor arrived.
And it had been the end of the line for him. . .almost. In a blink of an eye, he turned to ash, then found himself standing in the same spot five years later, having no idea what had happened and being told by a sorcerer that the fight was in New York and everyone needed to join.
The past 80 years of his life had been like that—waking up to new faces, time passing in leaps, being told what to do with little explanation. His sudden time-travel induced prescience was a new feeling, similar to the one he remembered from when he was young, had more control over his life, and enjoyed the confidence of youth.
Now, here he was, a traveler through time, knowing the fates of everyone seated around the table. He knew that, without intervention, Tony Stark would create an A.I. that would almost destroy the world, wipe an entire country off the map, and kill hundreds of people.
Eight years after that, Tony would sacrifice himself to save the universe. Natasha Romanoff would do the same thing. Clint Barton would lose his entire family for five years and become a vigilante, then reunite with them again before experiencing hearing loss. Bruce Banner would merge with the Hulk and lose the use of his arm. Sam Wilson would become Captain America…
…and then there was Steve. He'd find the life he always wanted, one that wouldn't include Bucky.
"Does anyone ever die?" Tony asked from the other end of the table. "You, Cap, now Coulson?" Tony flung his hand toward the door. "Are my dear old mom and dad gonna walk through that door?"
The air rushed from Bucky's lungs as though he had been punched in the gut by Thor. He glanced at Sam long enough to see the pinched, sympathetic look on his face. Now was most certainly not the time.
Bucky cleared his throat and pointed to the display. "Originally, the bank vault was minimally staffed after the helicarriers were destroyed. That's not the case now. I counted at least two dozen agents, not including the medical and science team and Alexander Pierce. They set a trap for the Winter Soldier, so we can assume they're heavily armed with automatic weapons, high-capacity stun batons, potent tranquilizer guns, restraints that not even Steve could break, along with high-tech surveillance and security systems."
Tony drummed his fingers on the table. "I think I can do something about that, but why bother? You bypassed mine pretty easily."
Bucky nodded. "And that's an advantage that we have. I managed to grab a few things from the future facility before Sam and I followed Rollins and his companion back in time. All that tech is 10 years more advanced than anything here. It includes surveillance, anti-security, signal jamming, and tracking devices, along with weapons. I should be able to take out the bank security easily, at least for a short time. It'll be long enough for us to get the drop on them. I think our best plan of attack is to release all of SHIELD and Hydra's secrets shortly before we engage."
"Distract them?" Barton asked.
"Yes," older Sam chimed in. "Last time the shit hit the fan and the rats jumped off the sinking ship."
"Did you find a way past the authentication requirement?" Steve asked.
Tony huffed. "Ye of little faith. My hack on our earlier adventure gave me what I needed to go deeper." He held up a hand. "No need to apologize for raking me over the coals about that. You're welcome."
Steve gave a shallow smile that looked almost begrudging.
"It's all ready to go," Romanoff stated. "All we have to do, quite literally, is hit send."
"Perfect." Bucky turned back to the display and brought up a schematic of the bank building.
They spent the next two hours developing a solid plan to infiltrate the bank, take out the Hydra cell, and rescue his younger counterpart. He felt good about their odds, and more importantly, he was confident their strategy was solid enough that none of the Avengers would find themselves casualties. They had Thor and Hulk in their corner, and that was some solid muscle.
Romanoff would do the honors and release the secrets on the Internet. The Avengers would hit the bank building an hour before dawn. It was midnight, and everyone got to their feet to head to bed for a few hours of sleep when an explosion blew out the side of the room.
-000-
Bucky coughed dust from his lungs. There was gunfire and the sounds of screams from outside. He bolted to his feet and assessed the situation with a single visual sweep. Older Sam was face-down on the floor, not moving. Shit! He'd been sitting closest to the explosion.
Thor, Falcon, and Banner were nowhere to be seen. Natasha and Clint were engaging four Strike goons, and Tony was just getting to his feet. As the smoke and dust began to clear, more figures emerged, descending on Tony and Steve.
The masked, long-haired figure with the methodical walk was unmistakable. One of the Strike team members opened fire on Tony before he could call his suit, and Steve sprang into action, blocking the bullets with his shield. The Soldier anticipated the move and took advantage of the distraction, his gun poised at Steve's head.
There was a groan from Sam, but Bucky had barely a moment to indulge in relief that the man was alive. He launched himself just before the Winter Soldier pulled the trigger. The Soldier spun, metal fist swiping through the air, but Bucky anticipated the move—one of the advantages to fighting his younger self—and twisted, grabbing the metal wrist with his vibranium hand and continuing the momentum to send the Soldier through the air and into the far wall.
As the Soldier fell to the floor, he rolled to his feet, metal arm coming up to catch the shield before it hit him in the chest. Bucky risked a glance back at Stark, relieved to see the man fully suited up and using his repulsors to take out the rest of the Strike team. The floor was littered with unconscious Hydra soldiers.
"Go!" Steve told Stark, gesturing at the hole in the wall that let in the cool night air.
Sounds of the commotion below and above told Bucky that Hydra had created a distraction to draw Thor and Banner outside. It was obvious they hoped to take out the more vulnerable Avengers.
The Soldier flung the shield back at Steve, who caught it, but the force sent him into the wall. The Soldier raised his gun toward Bucky and opened fire. Bucky activated the Wakandan force field on his vibranium arm just in time to stop the bullets, disintegrating them on impact. Steve shot him a brief inquisitive glance before stepping in front with the shield and facing the Soldier, who still had his gun ready.
"Buck, stop! You know me. I know you do. You remembered before."
Stupid idiot punk. As the Soldier opened fire, Bucky shoved Steve out of the way and huddled behind the force field. "Make sure Sam and the others don't die!" He barked at Steve. "I can take care of him."
Steve hesitated only a moment, then spun to shield Natasha and Clint as a helicopter rose and peppered the room with bullets. Sam groaned and shifted.
Bucky blocked more bullets from his counterpart and rolled over to Sam, using one foot to push him into the corner, out of the line of fire. The distraction cost him because the Soldier swung around and fired. Bucky barely had time to raise his arm with the force field.
He had enough of his younger, brainwashed self. He knew all the man's moves, and more importantly, he knew how to incapacitate him. With a growl, he launched himself forward, ramming the Soldier with the forcefield enough to stun him, then deactivated the field and swung around to grab him from behind, using his stronger vibranium arm to wrap around the metal bicep and twisting the not-quite-healed right arm back. The Soldier let out a pained yell and used his powerful legs to drive them both backward into the wall, but Bucky held on and began to recite the words that still plagued his nightmares.
"Zhelaniye."
The Soldier threw his head backward, trying to make contact, but Bucky anticipated the tactic and evaded.
"Rzhaviy."
The Soldier bucked and struggled against him. Each word tore from Bucky's throat like acid. He knew what he was doing to the Soldier, what it felt like to have one's mind invaded, penetrated by words that, one by one, stripped away will, or in this case, overrode one program with another. It was a violation, a rape of the mind—something he'd never voiced out loud, not to his therapist and not even to Shuri.
Bucky was halfway through the activation string when the battle sounds died and the Avengers began to reassemble inside. The Soldier's struggles got more desperate, the plates in the metal arm shifting and the gears grinding with strain. Steve rushed forward, grabbing the Soldier's wrists and pushing him back against Bucky and into the wall.
It was getting hard to breathe from the strain of the fight and the pressure of the Soldier's body against his torso, but he only needed a couple more seconds. The moment the last word ripped from Bucky's throat, a shiver coursed down his spine.
The Soldier went still.
Bucky took a moment to catch his breath, his insides shaking from more than just the fight. I'm sorry.
He straightened with resolution. He'd done what he had to do, and now he needed to make sure it worked. He couldn't remember a time when the activation string had overlaid an active one without a wipe or cryo- in between. "Soldat?"
"Ya gotov otvechat."
Ready to comply. The phrase made his skin crawl.
Bucky released his hold. The Soldier remained motionless, staring straight ahead. Steve let go and took a cautious step back. Sirens howled from the street below, and the sound of approaching helicopter blades hovering in the air told Bucky the media had almost certainly arrived. Hydra's chopper bid a fast retreat.
Sam was getting to his feet, and Bucky took a moment to assess him. Blood streaked down the side of his face, and he swayed a bit as he surveyed the mess, his eyes finally going to the Winter Soldier.
"You good?" Bucky asked.
Sam probed at the gash on his forehead. "I'll live."
Falcon landed, his wings snapping shut and his eyes going first to the Soldier, then to Bucky, and finally Steve. "What the hell just happened?"
"Hydra." Bucky moved in front of the Soldier, nudging Steve out of the way. "He won't hurt any of you now. He'll do what I say, but he has a kill switch embedded near his heart. If Hydra realizes he's captured, they'll activate it."
"Jarvis, get the Faraday room ready," Tony said. "Until then, jam all signals. Nothing gets in or out, hard lines only."
"Acknowledged," the AI responded.
Tony gestured toward the Soldier. "So…when you say he'll do anything…?"
Bucky swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the Soldier. "Anything."
Sam rubbed the back of his head as his gaze darted between the Soldier and Bucky, his eyes pinched with a hint of disbelief and pain. "Was your arm always able to do that?"
"No. I got an upgrade." Bucky decided to leave it at that. Out of respect for King T'Chaka, he didn't want to reveal that the Wakandans had the most advanced technology on the planet unless he had to.
Sam's gaze lingered on the Winter Soldier… on Bucky. "I know using the code words was necessary, but taking control of someone's mind like that…it's still messed up, man."
Bucky bit the inside of his lip. This entire situation was messed up.
The Avengers all looked a little battered, except for Thor and Banner, as they clustered around and stared at the Winter Soldier. Their scrutiny made Bucky fidget, and he could almost feel a ghost of the chair's electricity as he scratched at the back of his head. This had been him not so long ago—the robotic, brainwashed slave of Hydra. He'd seen videos and photos of himself as the Winter Soldier, of course, but looking at himself in the flesh, staring straight ahead with blank eyes, made his insides twist into knots.
"Nat and I will secure the prisoners," Clint said.
Bucky searched the faces of the Hydra squad, but he didn't see Rumlow or Rollins, which was unusual. Those two assholes were usually leading these strikes. Hydra must be switching things up for a reason. The goons sent were likely canon fodder to keep the Avengers busy while the Soldier went in for the kill.
Steve nodded. "We can't turn them over to SHIELD obviously. I'm not sure the police can handle them, or that they haven't been infiltrated by Hydra."
"There's a room on the 12th floor I've been working on." Tony glanced at Clint. "It should hold them."
Thor picked up two men—one in each hand. The heavy sound of footsteps drew everyone's attention to the door, where three Iron Man drones entered and began picking up the rest of the fallen Hydra agents.
Bucky caught Clint's eye. "Strip them down to their underwear, and see if there's any bodycam footage. Scan them for implants and check for oral cyanide capsules."
"Oh, that'll be fun," Clint said, as he helped Natasha grab a man and haul him toward the door.
Falcon crossed his arms. "You're awfully bossy for a Sergeant."
Bucky threw a glare at him. "Raise your hand if you've spent 70 years inside Hydra." He raised his hand, and his remained the only one in the air.
"Fine," Falcon grumbled, walking up to the Soldier hesitantly. His dark eyes studied the motionless man. "Is he in some kind of trance?"
"You could call it that. He's awaiting orders." Bucky decided to give some. "Remove all clothing and weapons except for your pants. Place the removed items on the table." He pointed to the dusty conference table.
Immediately, the Soldier began to undress, relying on his metal arm to do most of the work and favoring the injured right one. He started with his boots and socks, then placed multiple firearms one by one on the table, followed by two knives, grenades, ammunition, his mask, and finally his vest, shirt, and belt. When finished, he stood at attention, his bare flesh mottled with gashes, burns, and bruises.
"Dear God," Sam breathed, voice laced with anger.
Steve sidled up to Sam, breathing heavily, the shield hanging from his hand. He stared at Soldier-Bucky with pinched brows and pained eyes. Bucky knew Steve was searching for some hint of that guy he used to know, but he wouldn't find it. Not yet.
Tony walked next to Steve and tilted his head at the Soldier. "Bark like a dog."
Bucky dropped his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to drive back a memory inside an aircraft transport when a bored Hydra strike leader ordered him to cluck like a chicken, among other things, to entertain the guys during the long flight.
Steve threw a hard glare at Stark. "Tony…"
"He'll only listen to the person who completes the activation string," Bucky explained.
"So you?" the Falcon confirmed.
Bucky nodded. If anyone was going to control his younger self's mind, it should be him.
"We need to treat his injuries ASAP." Steve looked into the Soldier's eyes. "How long will this state of mind last?"
"Until it doesn't." Bucky could only remember a handful of times when he broke through the activation string, but most were in the early phases of his conditioning, with the exception of the helicarriers and Berlin, after he'd conked his head on the helicopter glass. Both times, he'd lost consciousness. "Even without the words controlling him, he's dangerous. He doesn't remember who he is. He's a product of Hydra's conditioning." He needed to make sure that none of the others—especially Steve—dropped their guard around the Winter Soldier.
"Our guests are secure," Clint returned with Natasha. "Thor wanted to stay to supervise the droids."
"He likes watching them work," Natasha added. "I think he also likes flexing his muscle around the Hydra goons."'
Clint walked up next to Steve and gazed at the stiff figure of the young Bucky Barnes staring blankly straight ahead. After a moment, Clint sighed and shook his head. "Poor bastard." He threw a sideways glance at Natasha and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I've done the brainwashing thing. It sucks."
Bucky hadn't been there during the battle of New York, but he'd heard about Loki using the Scepter to gain control of Clint and others.
"So what do we do with Robocop in the meantime?" Tony asked, stepping out of his suit.
"His name is Bucky," Steve and Sam said in unison, then exchanged surprised glances.
Bucky caught Sam's eye and gave an appreciative nod. The entire situation was awkward and turned his old scars into fresh wounds. Still, he was the only person in the room who knew what this version of himself needed most. It was something he hadn't gotten until Wakanda.
Bucky moved to his younger self's left side. "I'm going to disable your metal arm as a safety measure, then we'll set you up in a secure room and examine your injuries. You can take a warm bath or shower, and we'll make sure you have food and comfortable clothing. You're safe here for now."
Sam shifted to face him. "Now we're taking his arm away?"
"It's a weapon." Bucky appreciated Sam's concern for his younger self, but the best thing he could do for that version of Bucky and everyone else was to disable the Soldier to make sure no one got hurt. "If anything goes wrong, he'll be easier to manage without it." Bucky caught Stark's eye. "I'll need some tools to get inside the arm."
"What's wrong with his right arm?" Dr. Banner asked.
Steve took an audible breath. "I broke it when we fought on the helicarrier."
-0 0 0-
Steve watched in anguished fascination as Bucky closed the panel on the titanium arm. They were in a large, windowless area dubbed the Faraday room with blinking cabinets against one wall that Steve was pretty sure were computer server banks, and a laboratory workstation on the opposite wall. A couch, a few chairs, and a store-bought robotic litterbox that Tony grumbled about for fifteen minutes offered minimal, hastily arranged comfort. This was the most shielded room in the complex and they'd likely be spending significant time within the four walls. Everyone was present, even Pepper and the kitten, which was currently sitting on a work table batting a tool dangerously close to the edge.
Fortunately, Pepper and their feline guest had been seeing the veterinarian at the time of the attack.
The younger Bucky sat motionless throughout the process, even during the blood draw, with his eyes ahead and back straight, his right forearm in a plastic and Velcro splint procured by Dr. Banner until they could get images of the arm. It left his hand free but supported his wrist and forearm. Banner examined him from head to toe and determined the other wounds were superficial, except for a couple of heavily bruised ribs that indicated likely fractures.
He looked too thin, as though he hadn't eaten since the helicarriers went down over the Potomac. If his metabolism was like Steve's, even a couple of days without food would start to show.
The magnitude of it hit him all at once, and he had to suck in a breath to keep from exploding and driving his fists into something. What drugs were in Bucky's system? How many times had they wiped his memory? Did it hurt every time they froze him? What else did they do to him?
Banner stood in front of the Soldier. "Do you have any other injuries that aren't obvious?"
The Soldier glanced up at the doctor.
"Answer their questions," the older Bucky instructed.
The clipped way the order was given had Steve grinding his teeth and pushing back the urge to defend Bucky against…the future version of himself, and that was something he could barely wrap his mind around.
"Unknown," Soldier-Bucky said flatly.
"Anything else hurt?" Banner prodded.
The Soldier's brow furrowed.
"Is there any other pain sufficient to indicate a serious injury that will require attention?" Bucky asked.
The Soldier took a breath. "No."
Tony did a quick electronic scan and located the implants—one in the leg and two in the chest. Bucky informed them that one of the chest implants was a neurological relay for the arm. The other was the kill switch. The one in the leg was dual-purpose. It was both a trackable sensor and less lethal means to disable him.
With a hefty dose of local anesthetic and a scalpel, Banner removed the implant in the Soldier's leg. After a thorough cleaning, it went to Tony for study.
The brainwashed version of his friend was still naked from the waist up, but they'd rounded up a pair of gray sweatpants for him. Even if Bucky healed as quickly as Steve, his broken bone couldn't be one hundred percent after such a short time, but the bastards running Hydra sent him into battle nevertheless.
Steve tried once again not to stare, but he still couldn't quite believe this was all happening. Bucky was alive, a few feet away – two versions of him.
The scars on the bare-chested Bucky's shoulder stole Steve's breath. He assumed the older Buck had a matching set. God, he hated Hydra, hated the Russians who had done this, hated everyone and everything responsible.
Including himself.
What had it taken to turn the man he once knew—so full of life, gumption, and sass—into this empty shell that ten words would turn into a ruthless, robotic assassin? What had it taken to steal his memories and override his will?
How long had Bucky lay at the bottom of the cold ravine before the Russians found him? While Steve was trying to get drunk in that war-torn bar, Bucky had been fighting for his life all alone. While Steve was getting a shower back at base or laying his head on his cot, Bucky was being brutalized.
Steve felt like throwing up, but as the bile touched the back of his throat, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Are you okay, man?" Falcon asked in a low voice, moving closer.
Steve didn't trust his voice, so he nodded instead, noticing the older Bucky's gaze flicking toward him but never quite landing.
"So what do we do with Pinocchio here until he becomes a real boy?" Tony asked as he tossed the tool he'd been using on the bench.
Steve's anger erupted hot and volcanic. He surged forward, fists grabbing the front of Tony's shirt and shoving him into the wall. "His name is Bucky."
"Hey!" The older Bucky yanked him back and slid in between them. "Back off, Steve. Sticks and stones and all that."
Tony straightened his shirt, throwing a dark glare at Steve. "Yeah, Cap, get a grip."
Steve met Bucky's eyes, the ones that were now looking directly at him, unwavering and challenging, laced with something dark and tumultuous that Steve couldn't quite identify. At least Bucky was looking at him now, and Steve was locked in place by that gaze.
God, how he'd missed Bucky. Even though his friend was inches away, the distance between them seemed insurmountable. Steve didn't want to leave either Bucky, but his insides were threatening to revolt, and he didn't trust himself to stay in the room. He straightened, turned away, and marched stiffly out of the room.
A couple of minutes later, after he had dumped the remnants of dinner into the toilet and was standing over the sink, spitting a mouthful of water into the basin, Sam entered, a fresh bandage on his temple. "I won't bother asking if you're okay, but you need to keep it together, man. He needs you."
"Does he?" Steve stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. The face looking back at him reeked with the accusation. "I've been nothing but bad news for him. Even as kids, he was always taking punches because of me. When I was sick, he took care of me. When my mother died, he was there for me." Steve gripped the edges of the sink and glared at the failure staring back at him. "The one time he needed me the most, I let him down. I asked him to follow me into the jaws of death, and then I left him there."
"It wasn't your fault, Steve. Bucky doesn't blame you. He never has."
Steve pushed away and looked at Sam. "Yes, he does. He had my back on the train in '45, but no one had his. You see the way he looks at me… The way he barely looks at me."
"I'm not sure what that's about, but it ain't that." Sam paused and took a step closer. "I know this is a lot, but this guilt complex isn't good for you and it sure as hell isn't going to be good for Bucky…and, uh, don't worry about the arm. He heals surprisingly fast, just like you." He batted Steve on the arm with a familiarity Falcon hadn't yet attained, which told Steve this Sam knew him a lot better than the younger one. "You want to do something for your friend?"
"If there was anything I could do for him, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
A soft smile played on Sam's lips, but his eyes were filled with sympathy. "Go back out there and be there for him. He's had a rough 70 years. Give him a soft landing and smother him in kindness, even if he tries to kill you for it."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I took some liberties with upgrades to Bucky's arm-hoping that in the upcoming Thunderbolts movie, Bucky's arm might have a few upgrades. We'll see.
Reminder: This story is also being posted on Archive of Our Own - one chapter a week over there (I post 2-3 chapters as one chapter every 2-3 weeks here on FFN).
