Steve was on his second glass of Asgardian Ale, doing his best to get drunk but so far having no luck, when there was a knock on his door. With SHIELD in tatters, he wasn't sure who it could be. Was it about Bucky? He glanced at his broken cell phone on the counter—the one he'd thrown against the wall hours earlier.

Steve hurried to the door.

Sam was there, face grim. "We have him, Steve."

For a moment, he was sure a hole opened up in the center of his chest, sucking out all the air from his lungs. It took him a moment to push the single word from his throat. "Where?"

"Stark Tower."

Within seconds, he was on his bike speeding toward Manhattan with Sam flying above.

Fury greeted him at the entrance. The man shouldn't even be in the country. He was supposed to be a dead man. Steve ran past Fury toward the elevators.

"You don't even know what floor," Fury huffed from behind.

"Stark's lab?"

"Okay, fair guess."

The three of them were in the elevator moments later. Fury's breathing was heavy. Steve was holding his, hands clenched at his sides.

He glanced at Fury. "Is he okay?"

Fury nodded. "He's not seriously injured, but he's unconscious. Banner had something in his toolkit to knock him out."

"How did you find him?"

"More like we found each other mopping up a Hydra facility. Seems your buddy had the same idea we did."

Steve turned to face Fury, hope blossoming hard and painful in his chest. "He's taking out Hydra?"

He remembers…

"Looks that way, but I know that look on your face." Fury's one eye gazed at him with something dangerously close to pity. "He doesn't remember who he is, or you. We tried to get through to him during the fight. If Thor hadn't been part of the operation hoping to find the Scepter, we wouldn't have gotten him. He's fast and slippery."

"Why wasn't I included in this mission?"

Nick gave him a look of barely restrained frustration. "Try answering your cell phone, Captain."

The elevator deposited them on the lab floor. Steve pushed through the doors as they opened and broke into a run.

"Wait!" Fury yelled. "There's something else…"

Steve didn't bother slowing down. He flung the door to Tony's lab open and…

Dear God.

Bucky was unconscious, strapped semi-upright to a table inside a machine, hooked up to an IV and cardiac monitor. Electrical currents danced from nodes on either side of his head, traveling into his temples. A large monitor was plugged into it, cycling through chaotic images of fire and death. Another monitor tracked his vitals.

Bruce and Tony operated a panel of computers. Bruce had the good grace to look apologetic. Tony, on the other hand, gave a proud smile that made Steve want to punch him through the wall.

Footsteps marked Fury's arrival. Steve hurried forward, reaching for the straps holding Bucky to the table, about to tear them apart, when Fury grabbed his arm. "Hold up."

Steve spun, fiery rage making everything hot, and shoved Fury against the wall. "What the hell are you doing to him?"

"Easy, Captain." Fury put his hands up. "He's not being harmed."

"Seems Fury has bigger secrets than any of us guessed." Tony swiveled on his stool, sweeping a hand at the machine. "He won't say where he got this fancy piece of equipment, but it's far more advanced than anything even I have…at the moment."

"An old friend lent this to me. His scientists modified it. It can access memories, and that's what it's doing to Sergeant Barnes right now."

The light clack of hard-souled shoes signaled Hill's arrival. Her eyes darted around the group as she tapped at a tablet in her hand. "I see we're all here. Good." She handed the tablet to Bruce. "Fury's friend has finished uploading the data algorithm."

Steve took a couple of slow, deep breaths and released Fury. The anger still bubbled in his gut, and as he approached the machine and looked into Bucky's still face, he took a few more breaths and blinked away the sting in his eyes. Every instinct screamed at him to get Bucky out of there. It was far too much like how he'd found Bucky in Zola's lab.

Strapped to a table.

Helpless.

Only this time Bucky wasn't reciting his name, rank, and serial number. He didn't even remember them. They'd stolen that from him, wiped his memories and programmed his mind. Steve had watched the surveillance from the Bank base.

When he and Stark had swept through the vault, he saw the metal chair with his own eyes. He watched the footage of Bucky screaming on the surveillance monitor. Then he'd destroyed the thing with his fists and his shield.

The flickering images from the screen beckoned him. The images were gruesome. Murders. Fights. The Chair. Being dragged from a cryogenic chamber. A cage fight with other soldiers.

A man ordering him to strip.

Jesus. Steve closed his eyes, but only for a moment. He needed to see this. Needed to see what they'd done to Bucky.

The room was silent as he watched. The others were riveted, too. Banner and Tony watched the images at a separate monitor on their workstation. Fury and Hill stood on either side of Steve, observing.

It was several minutes when Fury finally turned away. "Jesus."

Hill was next, saying nothing, but her face was a shade paler and her eyes glistened.

Banner looked a shade greener and Tony, for once, seemed speechless, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with a glint of anger as they stayed riveted on the screen.

"How long?" Steve placed a hand on Bucky's arm. He was warm, solid.

Bucky…

"Has he been in this?"

"Until he gets his memories back."

Hill cleared her throat. "We're not sure, Steve. Maybe a week. Maybe a month."

Bruce's fingers flew over the control panel. "The machine reads brain activity in areas related to episodic and semantic memory and analyzes recovery progress. I'm told," he glanced at Fury, "the machine will slowly bring him toward consciousness when it's restored as much of his memory as possible."

Steve studied his friend's slack face. He didn't appear to be in pain. His brow was relaxed, his eyes closed, and his breathing steady. Steve glanced at the adjacent monitor showing his vitals. Blood pressure was normal and pulse steady.

He turned around, back straight and shoulders squared, and looked them each in the eyes. "Are you all sure that this machine is not harming him?"

There was silence for several seconds.

Finally, Bruce sighed and pushed up his glasses. "As sure as we can be. The machine he's in monitors his brain activity. We're keeping tabs on his vitals, as you see. Everything is within acceptable parameters. If we notice the slightest signs of distress, we'll turn off the machine."

Steve nodded and grabbed a chair. He slid it next to Bucky and dropped into it. Bucky's hand was limp on the table. Steve slipped his palm into it and gave a gentle squeeze. He had no way of knowing if Bucky was aware of his presence, but if there was the slightest chance he was, Steve wanted him to know he wasn't alone.

"I'll arrange for a cot to be brought in," Maria said.

It was three of the longest, hardest weeks Steve had ever experienced—and that included the war front—when there was a change. He hadn't left Bucky's side except to deal with basic body functions and, occasionally, brush his teeth and shower.

He hadn't shaved in over a week and a half. Hard stubble had grown on his jaw.

Tony and Banner rotated shifts, along with a scientist Fury vouched for. The man had a vaguely Australian accent and seemed to know his way around the mysterious machine sending electrical impulses into Bucky's brain.

Natasha had arrived a few days prior after getting the news. It was nice of her to drop whatever she'd been doing to come. The more he thought he had her figured out, the more she surprised him.

Banner and Sam were keeping him company in the lab when Bucky made a sound. It was barely a groan. Steve was on his feet instantly, his hand on Bucky's arm as his eyes darted to Banner. "Is he in pain?"

Banner's brow was furrowed as he studied the display. "I don't think so."

A moment later, Bucky groaned again. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and his body spasmed once.

"Turn it off!" Steve placed a palm on Bucky's chest and glanced at the silent display of vitals. Her rate was elevated. Blood pressure normal.

"It's off."

The electrical impulses vanished. A moment later, Bucky's eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were glassy, and his gaze unfocused.

"Bucky?"

Bucky blinked, eyes drifting toward Steve. His brow furrowed, and he looked around the room. The EKG display showed an increasing heart rate.

"It's okay, Buck. Do you know me? Do you know who you are?"

"Give him a moment, Steve," Bruce said. "It might not be best to pepper him with questions."

Bucky's eyes drifted back to Steve, and he blinked several more times. He opened his mouth, and Steve could read his own name on Bucky's lips, but no words came out.

"Get him some water."

Moments later, Sam handed him a cool glass. Steve tipped it carefully against Bucky's lips, letting him drink slowly. He pulled it away after a few sips, not wanting to risk Bucky aspirating the liquid.

"Hey, there, Buddy. You know who I am?"

Bucky swallowed hard, blinking at him. Tears welled in his eyes and cascaded onto his cheeks. "S-Steve?"

Everything shimmered. Steve wiped away his own tears and unfastened the straps holding Bucky to the table. "Yeah, welcome back."

Bucky looked him up and down. He started to tremble, and as the last strap came undone, he folded forward.

Steve caught him.

"I'm s-sorry," Bucky croaked.

"It's okay."

Bucky clutched at him, sobbing. Steve lowered him to the floor, holding on tight, even as Sam wrapped a blanket around them both. He didn't know what the future held, but he had Bucky back, and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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